refreshing sleep. But these were far from being all she had to endure. The attachment between the affianced parties had one characteristic of true love—its course did not run smooth. Doubts as to the prudence of the marriage, in a worldly, or in a pecuniary point of view, arose among some of Mr. Maclean's friends. His family always expressed, the highest possible sense of Miss Landon's worth, and took a just pride in her literary reputation. Respect for her virtues might, and no doubt did, suggest dissuasives; for any alliance, with a conditional residence at Cape Coast, must have been deemed, to the last degree, unpropitious. It is certain that during Mr. Maclean's absence, in Scotland, in the summer of 1837, it appeared doubtful whether the marriage would take place, nor did her health promise well, at that season, for her capability to undertake a long voyage, and settle, with the smallest chance of safety, in so horrible a climate.
At this time as well as afterwards—indeed, from the commencement of his acquaintance with her to the hour of her death, Mr. Maclean entertained but one feeling in relation to reports circulated to her prejudice. That feeling was contempt—contempt that never once wavered. However the report might be varied, or wherever it might be whispered, or whatever name might be associated with hers to her injury, he equally despised the tale. Not only had everything been related to him, but all had been put to him in the worst light; again and again he was reminded, only to feel the more sympathy for the object of the calumny, and the more confidence in that innocence, of which, indeed, society—if that word must be used—felt
