sharer.  Your own heart can best determine whether upon their principles you are or not.”  He appeared mortified and chagrined; and we had walked some distance without exchanging a word or a look.  At last he rejoined, “I plead guilty to the charge, madam, which they have undoubtedly brought against me, of imprudence and folly in many particulars; yet of malignancy and vice I am innocent.  Brought up in affluence, inured from my infancy to the gratification of every passion, the indulgence of every wish, it is not strange that a life of dissipation and gayety should prove alluring to a youthful mind which had no care but to procure what is deemed enjoyment.  In this pursuit I have, perhaps, deviated from the rigid rules of discretion and the harsher laws of morality.  But let the veil of charity be drawn over my faults; let the eye of candor impartially examine my present behavior; let the kind and lenient hand of friendship assist in directing my future steps; and perhaps I may not prove unworthy of associating with the respectable inhabitants of this happy mansion; for such I am sure it must be while honored with Miss Wharton’s presence.  But, circumstanced as you and I are at present, I will not sue for your attention as a lover, but rest contented, if possible, with that share of kindness and regard which your benevolence may afford me as a friend.”  I bowed in approbation of his resolution.  He pressed my hand with ardor to his lips; and at that instant General Richman entered the garden.  He approached us cheerfully, offered Major Sanford his hand with apparent cordiality, and told us pleasantly that he hoped he should not be considered as an intruder.  “By no means, sir,” said Major Sanford; “it is I who have incurred that imputation.  I called this afternoon to pay you my respects, when, being informed that you and your lady were abroad, and that Miss Wharton was in the garden, I took the liberty to invade her retirement.  She has graciously forgiven my crime, and I was just affixing the seal to my pardon as you entered.”

We then returned into the house.  Mrs. Richman received us politely.  During tea, the conversation turned on literary subjects, in which I cannot say that the major bore a very distinguished part.  After he was gone, Mrs. Richman said, “I hope you have been agreeably entertained, Miss Wharton.”  “I did not choose my company, madam,” said I.  “Nor,” said she, “did you refuse it, I presume.”  “Would you not have me respect the rights of hospitality towards your guests when you are absent, madam?” “If you had acted from that motive, I own my obligations to you, my dear; but even that consideration can hardly reconcile me to the sacrifice of time which you have made to the amusement of a seducer.”  “I hope, madam, you do not think me an object of seduction.”  “I do not think you seducible; nor was Richardson’s Clarissa till she made herself the victim by her own indiscretion.  Pardon me, Eliza—­this is a second Lovelace.  I am alarmed by his artful