CHAPTER VII.

"Come, Friendship, twine a wreath for me, And weave it with the choicest flowers, To cheat the ling'ring steps of time, And gladden all life's passing hours."

The time now arrived when Theodore was to enter upon his professional studies, and he became engaged in the office of an eminent attorney in New-York. He frequently absented himself, however, to accompany Albert to visit his father's family, and since his acquaintance with Alida, there was a charm that attracted him thither. If he had admired the manly virtues of the brother, could he fail to adore the gentle graces of the sister? If all the sympathies of the most ardent friendship had been drawn forth toward the former, must not all the softer sensibilities of the heart be attracted by the milder and more refined excellencies of the other?

Bonville had become the admirer of Alida; of course he and Theodore sometimes met. He had made no serious pretensions, but his particularity indicated something more than fashionable politeness. His manners, his independent situation, entitled him to respect. "It is not probable, therefore, that he will be objectionable to her friends, or to Alida herself," said Theodore, with an involuntary sigh, and as his visits became more frequent, an increasing anxiety took place in his bosom. He wished her to remain single; the idea of losing her by marriage, gave him inexpressible regret. What substitute could supply to him the happy hours he had passed in her company? What charm could wing the lingering moments when she was gone?

How different would be the scene when debarred from the unreserved friendship and conversation of Alida. And unreserved it could not be, were she not exclusively mistress of herself. But was there not something of a more refined texture than friendship in his predilection for the company of Alida? If so, why not avow it? His prospects, his family, and of course his pretensions might not be inferior to those of Bonville.

But perhaps he was preferred. His opportunities: his prior acquaintance with the lady. Distance was no barrier to his addresses. His visits became more and more frequent. Was it not then highly probable that he had gained her affections?

Thus reasoned Theodore, but the reasoning tended not to allay the tempest that was gathering in his bosom. He ordered his carriage, and was in a short time at the seat of Alida's father. It was summer, and towards evening when he arrived. Alida was sitting by the window when he entered the hall. She arose and received him with a smile. I have just been thinking of an evening's walk, said she, but had no one to attend me, and you have come just in time to perform that office. I will order tea immediately, while you rest from the fatigues of your journey.

When tea was served up, a servant entered the room with a letter which he had found in the yard. Alida received it. "'Tis a letter," said she, which I sent by Bonville to a lady in the village, and the careless man has lost it. Turning to Theodore, I forgot to tell you, that your friend Bonville has been with us a few days; he left us this morning. "My friend," replied Theodore, hastily. "Is he not your friend?" inquired Alida. "I beg pardon, madam," said he "my mind was absent." "He requested us to present his respects to his friend Theodore," said she. Theodore bowed and turned the conversation.

They now walked out, and took a winding path which led through pleasant fields until they reached the water, and continued to pursue their way along the shore till they came to a beautiful and shady grove, where the thick foliage afforded a delightful retreat from the warm rays of the sun, and at the extremity of which was a sloping eminence, which commanded an extensive prospect of the surrounding country, part of Long-Island sound and the junction of the bay with the eastern river.

A soft and silent shower had descended. A thousand transitory gems trembled upon the leafy foliage, glittering in the western ray. A bright rainbow sat upon a southern cloud; the light gales whispered among the branches, agitated the young harvest to billowy motion, and moved the tops of the deep green forest with majestic grandeur; while flocks, herds, and cottages were scattered over the resplendent landscape.

"This is a most delightful scene," said Alida. "It is, truly," replied Theodore, "do you think that New-York can boast of so charming a prospect?" "Yes, one," answered she, it is the walk on the battery, the water prospect is similar to this, but the landscape is not so variegated.

See that ship, Theodore, coming down the sound, how she ploughs through the white foam, while the breezes flutter in the sails, varying with the vivid rays of the sun. "Yes," said Theodore, it bounds with rapid motions over the waves, and ere the day has departed it will probably safely reach the wharf of the city.

They walked leisurely around the hill, and then moved slowly towards home. The sun was sinking gradually behind the western horizon. Twilight arose dimly in the east, and floated along the air. Darkness began to hover around the woodlands and valleys. The beauties of the landscape slowly receded; the breezes had gone down with the sun, and a perfect calm succeeded.

"I shall never forget this charming promenade," said Theodore, as he approached the threshold of the door, with a deep drawn sigh, "and the remembrance of the sweet pensive scenery of this delightful spot, will ever continue to haunt my memory."