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“We want but one more couple, and here they are,” said Sheldon, as Clarence and Caroline came up.

“Will you join this set?” asked Clarence, in a low tone.

“Not this one,” she replied.

“Miss Gay does not wish to dance now,” her companion said, and they moved away.

But the cotillion was speedily formed without them, and the dance proceeded.

Half an hour after, while Henry Clarence and Caroline were sitting on a lounge, engaged in close conversation, Sheldon came up, and bowing in his most graceful manner, and, with his blandest smile, said,

“Can I have the pleasure of dancing with Miss Gay, this evening?”

“No, sir,” was the quiet, firm reply of the maiden, while she looked him steadily in the face.

Sheldon turned hurriedly away, for he understood the rebuke, the first he had yet met with in the refined, fashionable, virtuous society of one of the largest of the Atlantic cities.

The heart of Henry Clarence blessed the maiden by his side.

“You are not averse to dancing, Caroline?” he said.

“O no. But I do not dance with every one.”

“In that you are right, and I honor your decision and independence of character.”

During the remainder of the evening, she danced several times, more frequently with Henry than with any other, but never in a cotillion of which Sheldon was one of the partners. Much to the pain and alarm of Melvina, Clarence did not offer to dance with her once; and long before the gay assemblage broke up, her appearance had failed to produce any sensation. The eye tired of viewing her gaudy trapping, and turned away unsatisfied. But let Caroline go where she would, she was admired by all. None wearied of her chaste, simple and beautiful attire; none looked upon her mild, innocent face, without an expression, tacit or aloud, of admiration. Even the rebuked, and for a time angered, Sheldon, could not help ever and anon seeking her out amid the crowd, and gazing upon her with a feeling of respect that he tried in vain to subdue.

Melvina had sought to produce a “sensation” by gay and imposing attire, and after a brief and partial success, lost her power. But Caroline, with no wish to be noticed, much less to be the reigning belle of the evening, consulting her own pure taste, went in simple garments, and won the spontaneous admiration of all, and, what was more, the heart of Henry Clarence. He never, after that evening, could feel any thing of his former tenderness towards Melvina Felton. The veil had fallen from his eyes. He saw the difference between the desire of admiration, and a simple love of truth and honor, too plainly, to cause him to hesitate a moment longer in his choice between two so opposite in their characters. And yet, to the eye of an inattentive observer nothing occurred during the progress of Mrs. Walshingham’s party more than ordinarily takes place on such occasions. All seemed pleased and happy, and Melvina the happiest of the whole. And yet she had signally failed in her well-laid scheme to take the heart of Henry Clarence–while Caroline, with no such design, and in simply following the promptings of a pure heart and a right taste, had won his affectionate regard.

It was some three or four months after the party at Mrs. Walshingham’s, that Melvina Fenton and Caroline Gay were alone in the chamber of the latter, in close and interested conversation.

“I have expected as much,” the former said, in answer to some communication made to her by the latter.

“Then you are not surprised?”

“Not at all.”

“And I hope not pained by the intelligence?”

“No, Caroline, not now,” her friend said, smiling; “though two or three months ago it would have almost killed me. I, too, have been wooed and won.”

“Indeed! That is news. And who is it, Melvina? I am eager to know.”

“Martin Colburn.”

“A gentleman, and every way worthy of your hand. But how in the world comes it that so quiet and modest a young man as Martin has now the dashing belle?”