abstracted, dreamy look, as if her thoughts were far away, occupied in very pleasant visions – whether they were now of Ossian-heroes, dark-eyed and dim, we doubt.
She was rather unpleasantly roused to a waking state, however, by a passage in one of Augusta Lenox's last letters, which was,
"What has become of your 'favorite aversion,' Robert Hazlewood? When are he and Mary Morton to be married? I give her joy of him – as you say, how can she?"
Angila colored scarlet with indignation as she read this, almost wondering at first what Augusta meant.
She did not answer the letter; some consciousness, mixed with a good deal of vexation, prevented her.
Hazlewood's attentions to Angila began to be talked of a good deal. Her mother was congratulated, and she was complimented, for every body spoke well of him. "A remarkably clever young man with excellent prospects," the old people said. The young girls talked of him probably pretty much as Angila and Augusta had done – but she did not hear that, and the young men said,
"Hazlewood was a devilish clever fellow, and that Angila Mervale would do very well if she could get him."
That the gentleman was desperately in love there was no doubt; and as for the young lady – that she was flattered and pleased and interested, was hardly less clear. Her bright eyes grew softer and more dreamy every day.
Of what was she dreaming? What could her visions be now? Can she by any possibility make a hero of Robert Hazlewood? Sober common sense would say "No!" but bright-eyed, youthful imagination may boldly answer, "Why not?" Time, however, can only decide that point.
Two more letters came from Augusta Lenox about this time, and remained unanswered. "Wait till I am engaged," Angila had unconsciously said to herself, and then blushed the deepest blush, as she caught the words that had risen to her lips.
She did not wait long, however. Bright, beaming, blushing and tearful, she soon announced the intelligence to her mother, asking her consent, and permission to refer Mr. Hazlewood to her father.
The Mervales were very well pleased with the match, which, in fact, was an excellent one, young Hazlewood being in every respect Angila's superior, except in appearance, where she, as is the woman's right, bore the palm of beauty. Not but that she was quick, intelligent, and well cultivated; but there are more such girls by hundreds in our community, than there are men of talent, reading, industry and worth to merit them; and Angila was amazingly happy to have been one of the fortunate few to whose lot such a man falls.
And now, indeed, she wrote a long, long letter to Augusta – so full of happiness, describing Hazlewood, as she thought, so distinctly, that Augusta must recognize him at once – so she concluded by saying,
"And now I need not name him, as you must know who I mean."
"I must know who she means!" said Augusta, much perplexed. "Why I am sure I cannot imagine who she means! Talented, agreeable, with cultivated tastes! Who can it be? 'Not handsome, but very gentlemanlike-looking.' Well, I have no idea who it is – I certainly cannot know the man. But as we sail next week, I shall be at home in time for the wedding. How odd that I should be really her bridemaid in May after all!"
Miss Lenox arrived about two months after Angila's engagement had been announced, and found her friend brilliant with happiness. After the first exclamations and greetings, Augusta said with impatient curiosity,
"But who is it, Angila – you never told me?"
"But surely you guessed at once," said Angila, incredulously.
"No, indeed," replied her friend, earnestly, "I have not the most distant idea."
"Why, Robert Hazlewood, to be sure!"
"Robert Hazlewood! Oh, Angila! You are jesting," exclaimed her friend, thrown quite off her guard by astonishment.
"Yes, indeed!" replied Angila, with eager delight, attributing Augusta's surprise and incredulous tones to quite another source. "You may well be surprised, Augusta. Is it not strange that such a man – one of his superior talents – should have fallen in love with such a mad-cap as me."
Augusta could hardly believe her ears. But the truth was, that Angila had so long since forgotten her prejudice, founded on nothing, against Hazlewood, that she was not conscious now that she had ever entertained any such feelings. She was not obliged, in common phrase, to "eat her own words," for she quite forgot that she had ever uttered them. And now, with the utmost enthusiasm, she entered into all her plans and prospects – told Augusta, with the greatest interest, as if she thought the theme must be equally delightful to her friend – all her mother's long story about the old Hazlewoods, and what a "charming nice family they were," ("those pattern people that she hated so," as Augusta remembered, but all of which was buried in the happiest oblivion with Angila,) and the dear little house that was being furnished like a bijou next to Mrs. Constant's, (next to Mrs. Constant's! – one of those small houses with low ceilings! Augusta gasped;) and how many servants she was going to keep; and what a nice young girl she had engaged already as waiter.
"You mean, then, to have a woman waiter?" Augusta could not help saying.
"Oh, to be sure!" said Angila. "What should I do with a man in such a pretty little establishment as I mean to have. And then you know we must be economical – Mr. Hazlewood is a young lawyer, and I don't mean to let him slave himself to make the two ends meet. You'll see what a nice economical little housekeeper I'll be."
And, in short, Augusta found that the same bright, warm imagination that had made Angila once dream of Ossian-heroes, now endowed Robert Hazlewood with every charm she wanted, and even threw a romantic glow over a small house, low ceilings, small economies, and all but turned the woman-servant into a man. Cinderella's godmother could hardly have done more. Such is the power of love!
"Well," said Augusta, in talking it all over with her brother, "I cannot comprehend it yet; Angila, who used to be so fastidious, so critical, who expected so much in the man she was to marry!"
"She is not the first young lady who has come down from her pedestal," replied her brother, laughing.
"No, but she has not," returned Augusta, "that's the oddest part of the whole – she has only contrived somehow to raise Hazlewood on a pedestal, too. You'd think they were the only couple in the world going to be married. She's actually in love with him, desperately in love with him; and it was only just before I went to New Orleans that she said – "
"My dear," interrupted her mother, "there's no subject on which women change their minds oftener than on this. Love works wonders – indeed, the only miracles left in the world are of his creation."
"But she used to wonder at Mary Morton's liking him, mamma."
"Ah, my dear," replied her mother, "that was when he was attentive to Mary Morton and not her. It makes a wonderful difference when the thing becomes personal. And if you really love Angila, my dear, you will forget, or at least not repeat, what she said six months before marriage."
A NEW ENGLAND LEGEND
"God's blessing on the bonny barque!" the gallant seamen cried,
As with her snowy sails outspread she cleft the yielding tide —
"God's blessing on the bonny barque!" cried the landsmen from the shore,
As with a swallow's rapid flight she skimmed the waters
