ed to perfume the room. So splendid an appearance betokened some more important object than selling lint. The old lady started—she attempted to speak; but the words faltered on her lips. Mela rose suddenly from her seat;—she blushed and grew pale by turns, but remained silent, as well as her mother. Frank, however, was perfectly at his ease: he now adapted words to the soft melody which he had often played on his lute; and in bold open terms he at length declared his long silent love. Then turning to the happy mother, he solemnly entreated her consent to his union with her daughter. Next he gave explanations of all suspicious and unpleasant circumstances, concluding by declaring that the bride for whom preparations had been making was only the fair Mela herself.
On recovering from her surprize, the ceremonious old lady determined, as a matter of propriety, to take one week’s consideration, though tears of joy were in her eyes, and eloquently spoke the consent she could not. Frank, however, became so pressing, that she was compelled to steer a middle course between old custom and propriety, and the wishes of the new lover; and she delegated her daughter to give an answer agreeable to herself. A strange revolution had been at work in Mela’s virgin heart since his entrance into the room. No stronger proof of his innocence could be imagined, than such a
