intimacy had given rise to the gossip of the neighbourhood, supposing that Melliphant was courting the widow's hand for the sake of her fortune; but, as the affair never came to a conclusion, such reports at last degenerated into those of scandal. In truth, marriage was not the object or the wishes of either.
Though others, like Melliphant, were admitted to the favourable estimation of Mrs. Belmour, yet, having the staff in her own hand, she was fearful of transmitting it to another, who might feel inclined to limit her indulgences. She had been so long familiarized to Melliphant, that his attentions, once flattering, became received as a due. Of a confined comprehension, she had never penetrated into the deep hypocrisy of his character, having no conception how well he could wear the mask, and thus appear what in reality he was not; accustomed to his society, she felt a regard for him which induced her willingly to perform any act which might be likely to render him a service.
Having thrown himself upon a sofa in her apartment, in a fit of profound musing, during which Mrs. Belmour had accosted him without receiving a reply, she expostulated with him:
"Why, really, Melliphant," said she, "you become intolerable; you are more and more abstracted every day."
His head still rested upon his hand, and he made no effort to speak. Rising, she approached him, when, starting from his seat, a bursting sigh escaped
