promptly produced his expulsion. The return of the army from Mexico brought with it the young officer whom we have before mentioned. The father of this young man had been a companion-in-arms of Colonel Dumont, and a strong friendship had grown up between the veterans. The tie was severed only by the death of the former, after a life of mercantile misfortunes, and finally of utter ruin. At the period of the father's insolvency and death, Henry Carroll, the son, was a cadet at West Point, and was about abandoning his chosen profession, for the want of means, when Colonel Dumont wrote him an affectionate letter, offering all that he required to complete his studies. This offer, coming from one who had been a heavy loser by his father's bankruptcy, was highly appreciated, and the young student had allowed no false delicacy to prevent his acceptance of the generous proposal, though with a stipulation to repay all sums, with interest. Colonel Dumont, in his regular summer tour to the North, never failed to visit his young friend, whose noble bearing and lofty principle entirely won his heart, and he charged himself with a father's duty towards him. A regular correspondence was kept up between the self-constituted guardian and his _protege_; and the more the former read the heart of the young man, the more did he rejoice that he had befriended him. He read with mingled pride and affection the repeated instances of his daring courage and matchless skill which found their way into the newspapers; while the record of his humanity to a fallen foe contributed to swell the tide of the old gentleman's affection. On his return from Mexico, Henry's first care was to see his devoted friend and guardian, and he accepted his pressing invitation to spend a month at Bellevue. As an inmate of her father's family, he was, of course, a constant companion of Emily. Her radiant beauty had captivated his heart long ere the month had expired; and he saw, or thought he saw, in the heart of the fair girl, indications of a sympathetic sentiment. In the rashness of his warm blood he had allowed himself to cherish a lively hope that his dawning love was not entirely unrequited. He had seen that _his_ bouquet was more fondly cherished than the offerings of others; that _his_ hand, as she alighted from the carriage, was more gladly received than any other; that _his_ conversation never wearied her; in short, there was in all their intercourse an unmistakable exponent of feelings deeper than those of common friendship. In the midst of this delighted existence,--while yet he revelled in the pleasure of loving and being loved,--there came to him, like a dark cloud over a clear sky, the unwelcome thought that it was wrong for him to entangle the affections of his benefactor's daughter. He was a beggar,--the object of her father's charity. Her prospects were brilliant and certain, and he felt that he had no right to mar or destroy them. He knew that she would love him none the less for his poverty; but, probably, her father had already anticipated something better than a beggar for his future son-in-law.