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The oftener Florence and Miss Weldon met, the more strongly were their hearts drawn toward each other; and, at length, the former was encouraged to make an offer of his hand. In coming to this resolutions, it was not without passing through a painful conflict. As his mind dwelt upon the subject, there was a reproduction of old states. Most vividly did he recall the time when he breathed into the ears of Edith vows to which he had proved faithless. He had, it is true, returned to his first allegiance. He had laid his heart again at her feet; but, to how little purpose! While in this state of agitation, the young man resolved, more than once, to abandon his suit for the hand of Miss Weldon, and shrink back again into the seclusion from which he had come forth. But, his affection for the lovely girl was too genuine to admit of this. When he thought of giving her up, his mind was still more deeply disturbed.

“Oh, that I could forget!” he exclaimed, while this struggle was in progress. “Of what avail is this turning over of the leaves of a long passed history? I erred–sadly erred! But repentance is now too late. Why, then should my whole existence be cursed for a single error? Ah, me! thou not satisfied, departed one? Is it, indeed, from the presence of thy spirit that I am troubled? My heart sinks at the thought. But no, no! Thou wert too good to visit pain upon any; much less upon one who, thou false to thee, thou didst so tenderly love.”

But, upon this state there came a natural re-action. A peaceful calm succeeded the storm. Memory deposited her records in the mind’s dimly lighted chambers. To the present was restored its better influences.

“I am free again,” was the almost audible utterance, of the young man, so strong was his sense of relief.

An offer of marriage was then made to Miss Weldon. Her heart trembled with joy when she received it. But confiding implicitly in her uncle, who had been for the space of ten years her friend and guardian, she could not give an affirmative reply until his approval was gained. She, therefore, asked time for reflection and consultation with her friend.

Far different from what Florence had expected, was the reception of his offer. To him, Miss Weldon seemed instantly to grow cold and reserved. Vividly was now recalled his rejection by Miss Linmore, as well as the ground of her rejection.

“Is this to be gone over again?” he sighed to himself, when alone once more, “Is that one false step never to be forgotten nor forgiven? Am I to be followed, through life, by this shadow of evil?”

To no other cause than this could the mind of Florence attribute the apparent change and hesitation in Clara Weldon.

Immediately on receiving an offer of marriage, Miss Weldon returned to Albany. Before leaving, she dropped Florence a note, to the effect, that he should hear from her in a few days. A week passed, but the promised word came not. It was, now plain that the friends of the young lady had been making inquiries about him, and were in possession of certain facts in his life, which, if known, would almost certainly blast his hopes of favor in her eyes. While in this state of uncertainty, he met the aunt of Edith, and the way she looked at him, satisfied his mind that his conjectures were true. A little while after a friend remarked to him casually–

“I saw Colonel Richards in town to-day.”

“Colonel Richards! Miss Weldon’s uncle?”

“Yes. Have you seen him?”

“No. I have not the pleasure of an acquaintance.”

“Indeed! I thought you knew him. I heard him mention your name this morning.”

“My name!”

“Yes.”

“What had he to say of me?”

“Let me think. Oh! He asked me if I knew you.”

“Well?”

“I said that I did, of course and that you were a pretty clever fellow; though you had been a sad boy in your time.”