Literary cadet and Rhode-Island statesman. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1827-1829, 1828-09-06

hcsitated Overpowcred with the shame
which every delicate women feels at
owning a preference for which she is
not sure Of an open, decided, honoura-
bic return. With her burning brow cov-
cred in her hands and her whole attitude
expressive Of the most painful and hu-
initiating confusion, she awaited her
cousins calm reply. To her, it would
be a sentence; SO highly did she res
pect her judgment and delicacy, aud
so fcaflessly did she trust her heart IN
her hands
Helen Clapp was not vain girl; nei-
thor was she peculiarly susccpilble;-
but her heart was warm and afieciionatc,
and her gratitude for attentions was 30
intense, that she was ever in danger OF
feeling too deeply, too devotedly. A
painful sense Of her inferior claims TO
personal attractions, contributed perhaps,
to enhance this scnliment,-for Helen
was never deemed beautiful, even by her
most partial friends. To those who
knew well her ardont and generous dis
position = her lofty and pure heart, her
cultivated and refined intellect, her itch,
beautiful imagination, she ever appear
I'D lovely, but to strangers, her countc-
nance was ever uncomcly. A scar On
her temple, gave her face forbidding
expression, aud years Of delicate health
had prevented her da'k complexion from
being en'ivencd with the rich glow that
gives SO much beauty to the brunette.
When animated by conversation, or ag-
itaied with emotion. you would forget
that she was not beautiful, so beaming
was her face, 50 expressive and lnteili.
gent her large hazel cyes-but as emo
ton subsidized, her features rested IN an
expression placid, but repelling.
Mary-Ann Dorr knew her perfectly,
she thought--but as often happens. the
inner feelings Of the heart arc more ap-
parent to strangers eye, than to the UNI
suspectng one of intimate friendship.
There was not n gossip IN the town, who
did not assert tho positive engagement
Of Miss Helen Clapp to young Squire
Weston--and not an eye or heart
which did not truly interpret the smile
aud the blush that overspread Helen's
face, at any allusion to him, save tha; Of
the watchful friend, with whom she, and
who dceming herself fully aware Of the
terms IN which they stood, did not hesi-
tate 10 contradict the assertion Of any
undue interest between the parties. Now
that she did understand Helen's leenngs,
she was surprised and distressed
81 do not woneer, dear Helen, that
you good heart is affected by Weston's
worth and devoted attention to you; you
would not be woman were it Otherwise
until it is openly and honourably claimed.
No, my friend - keep your heart. Why
has not Weston avowed his preference
in plain, manly terms and sought you as
a high-minded man oush. and would
do"
Dear Mary-Ann-what can | do! |
can not, would not for worlds allow Ed
mund to think am waiting for him to
offer his hand; cannot treat him cold
ly, it would be lndelicate; it Is impossi-
ble.' 'No: true you cannot. The con-
quest must be in your own soul, let your
manner 10 him continue as usuaI;Ebut,
as YOU value your peace Of mind, res
train your feelings; regard his profess
ions as idle do not think Of them. 1t is
more necessary than you can imagine
that your affections should be under
your own guidance and regulation; nee
essary not only to your peace, but even
to your purity of mind. Perhaps my
IDEAS on the subject Of the tender pas
sion; as it is called; are singular, dear
Helen, but have never considered that
heart as very valuable, which is so sus-
ceptiblc as to take an impression from
every seal Of beauty and manllncss lt.may
happen TO meet; till its most delicate
sympathies, and most beautiful, hidden
devotcdness, are frtiered away by the
very variety of the action Of that heart.
The confession, that we love, cannot he
repeatedly and variousy made, even in
the chambers Of our own souls, without
injuring the price and purity OF the con-
fession; and to delicate and reflectinS
mind, how far deeper and holier is that
hid treasure Of affection, which wells
up from the guarded fountains Of years,
than the babling, shining rilI, that smiles
in the sun, and spends itself in the smile.
Pardon my sermon, He!en,-and as !
live, here comes the youth himself.'
Edmund Weston entered the apart
ment, with smile and low bow to the
cousins; and very fascinating smile
and bow they were. His fine counte-
nance was flushed with exercise, and
passing round, ho seated himself by
Helen, and threw handful Of roses in
to her lap. There was something so
elegant, so graceful, so altogether what
is called taking in his manner, that