"I think so, most truly."

"And his circumstances and station befit your own?"

"In point of wealth and station he is undoubtedly beneath me; but in nature, in heart, I am certain he is all I could wish."

"And, knowing this, how could your father sanction my suit?"

"He knew nothing of these circumstances, sir. I have, from necessity, kept it a secret from him. May I trust you to do the same?"

"You may, indeed. I would not sanction duplicity between father and child; but neither would I have you sacrifice your happiness to a father's pride. In early youth, had she, who won my first affections, been as true to me, through such a test, as you have been to him you love through this, I would, probably, have never occupied the position of an old and disappointed suitor before you here."

"I would gladly reveal all to my parents, but that I know and dread the consequences. And when they learn the course I have this day pursued with you, the storm will perhaps be no less fierce."

"Fear nothing, Della; from this hour I am your sincere and devoted champion, in all causes wherein I believe you to be _right_. The confidence you have placed in me shall never be betrayed. Your father I will gradually turn aside from the ideas he has cherished with regard to you and myself. It is all better, no doubt, as it is; this, I must admit, however lonely my heart may throb in saying it. I had hoped to be happy in holding you to that heart, as one of its own rightful treasures. I will now strive to make myself happy in seeing her so I could not win. Whenever you want a friend, my child--one faithful and sincere, and uninfluenced by selfish motives--you will ever find one in the old man who has dared to love you, and whom you have this day rejected."

Della placed both hands in General Delville's, and looked up earnestly and trustfully into his noble face.

"Believe me, I always will."

"And I may continue to be a welcome visitor here?"

"Always, always."

"Enough, Della. Farewell."

"Adieu, _mon ami_!"

The General's tall figure passed into the lofty hall, and Della heard the door close behind him. She hurried to a window, and watched him as he descended the steps and entered his carriage, then, with a feeling of reverential affection for that proud spirit and noble heart which an hour before she had scarcely expected to feel, she passed out of the parlor on her way to her own room. Traces of tears were still upon her cheeks, and her whole face still bore evidence of recent agitation.

As she was about to ascend the stairs, Mrs. Delancey's maid met her, with the message that her mother desired an interview.

"Say to my mother, that I beg to be excused for a few moments, but will be with her presently," said Della, proceeding up the stairs.

The girl obeyed, but returned immediately, and over-taking Della on the stairs, said:--

"Mistress says you must come instantly, Miss; that she wishes to see you before you go to your room."

Dispelling, as far as possible, all traces of agitation, Della returned to her mother's apartment. The moment Mrs. Delancey's eyes fell upon her child's features, she held out her hand, with a bland smile, exclaiming:--

"Ah, Dort, I see how it is, dear; couldn't get through with a proposal without crying a little, eh? Rather undignified, I must say, but perfectly natural for unexperienced girls, I suppose. Allow me to congratulate you."

Della pressed the hand her mother gave, and made an effort to speak; but choked, faltered, and failed entirely, bursting into a violent fit of weeping instead.

"Really, my child, you surprise--you shock me; if you can't behave any better now, what will you ever do at the wedding? Really, I am ashamed of you! At your age I had received seven offers, and never shed a tear!"

"Perhaps you didn't accept them, Madam; and so, sever the ties which bound you to father and mother, and home," said Minnie, who had entered just in time to hear Mrs. Delancey's last remark.

"That's true enough," returned the lady, as if she had not thought of the fact before. "Della, you can go to your room till you are more composed; I will tell your father what has happened, so your timidity will be spared that."

"Oh, don't tell him anything, mamma; don't tell him this," sobbed Della.

"Nonsense, Dort; worse and worse. Go to your room, and don't make your appearance again until you can come with a face more composed, and features not all swollen and distorted by weeping."

Della obeyed, and her mother saw her no more that night.

"Oh, Minny!" exclaimed the young girl, as the privacy of her own apartment was gained, and she threw herself, still sobbing, on the quadroon's bosom; "didn't you know before I went down that I never would accept him, that I never could marry him, never?"

"Yes, Miss, I knew it."

"Yet you implied to mamma, Minn, that you believed I had accepted him, and you know she thinks I tell you everything. Oh, Minny, you musn't tell falsehoods for my sake!"

"I told no falsehood, Miss; I only asked your mamma a simple question, that you might get free, as I knew you wished to be."

"But I know she thought you meant that."

"It is wrong for people, to jump so hastily at conclusions."

"But, Minny, you know you intended mamma should jump at that."

"Well, Miss Della, don't chide me now about it; if it got you off without any more questions you are very glad, are you not?"

"Of course, if it wasn't falsehood."

"It certainly was not, Miss Della; now dry your eyes, and I will show you something."

"A letter, Minn, from--from _him_?"

Minny smiled, and nodded her head.

"Bathe my eyes, then, and I won't shed another tear."

Minny obeyed; and Della, with trembling fingers, tore open the letter, and perused it.

"Is it good, Miss?"

"Sweet Minny, read it yourself."

The quadroon took it, and, as she stood behind her mistress, the tremor which seized her frame, when she looked upon that handwriting, was unseen and unthought of by any but herself.

"Delightful, Miss Della."

"Yes; now, Minny, put it with the rest."

"You won't have it beneath your pillow then, for the first night?"

"No, Minn; put it away. I am going to dream of General Delville, to-night, if I can--the best and noblest, and kindest man, excepting somebody you know, that ever I knew."

"Indeed, Miss! I'm so glad he proved so."