in which it appeared to his astonished bride; but when she sighed, because she feared that she was not the first who had subdued his affections, he smilingly assured her, that she should be the last—that no other should ever be dear to him again.
Calantha, in manner, in appearance, in every feeling, was but a child. At one hour, she would look entranced upon Avondale, and breath vows of love and tenderness; at another, hide from his gaze, and weep for the home she had left. At one time she would talk with him and laugh from the excess of gaiety she felt; at another, she would stamp her foot upon the ground in a fit of childish impatience, and exclaiming, "You must not contradict me in any thing," she would menace to return to her father, and never see him more.
If Lord Avondale had a defect, it was too great good nature, so that he suffered his vain and frivolous partner, to com-
