I cannot speak, tears so obstruct my words
And choke me with unutterable joy. —Olney.

With goddess-like demeanor forth she went,
Not unattended, for on her as queen
A pomp of winning graces waited still. —Milton.

That what she wills to do or say
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best. —Milton.

The venerable edifice of Christ Church, the oldest house of worship of its denomination in Philadelphia, still retains the outward appearance it wore five and seventy years ago. But its stately front and exquisite steeple, instead of rising within view of the fashionable quarter of the town, as it did then, now overlooks a wilderness of shops, while its pavement is encumbered on market days with the eggs, chickens, and vegetables of farmers, who chaffer for a cent. The interior of the ancient edifice, however, has undergone great changes, not the least of which is the substitution of comfortable modern sittings for the stiff, high-backed pews in which Lady Washington and the elite of that day used to worship.

The appearance of the Aylesfords in their family pew at Christ Church attracted universal attention. The worthy rector lost no time in paying his respects to them, and was charmed with little Maggy as well as with Kate. He became a frequent visitor. He often seemed lost in thought, as he gazed on the child. At last, when Kate and he were alone together one day, he said,

“I have long wished, my dear young lady, to broach a delicate subject to you. I hope you will not think I wish to interfere impertinently in your family matters; but permit me to ask whether that beautiful child, who has just left the room, is really, as report declares, your cousin.”

“She is,” answered Kate. “But why this question?”

“The daughter of Mistress Margaret Rowan, so called?”

Kate inclined her head in assent.

“From what I know of you then, my dear young lady, and from the kind countenance I see you bestowing on the child, you will rejoice to hear that the fraud, so basely attempted on her mother, utterly failed.”

“What!” cried our heroine, with sparkling eyes, clasping her hands in joy. “Can it be possible?”

“Never was there wife, if that poor girl, whose father I knew in England, was not legally wedded to the late Charles Aylesford, Esquire.”

“Thank God!” ejaculated Kate, fervently.

“Yes! we may well thank the Almighty one,” reverently replied the clergyman; “for out of evil counsel he brought good. But I must explain. It happened in this way.”

The rector then proceeded to state that, a few months before the Aylesfords arrived in Philadelphia, he had been summoned, one evening, to the bedside of a dying man in one of the miserable taverns then, and still existing, by the water-side. The invalid was undergoing the most terrible agonies of remorse, having, on his own confession, lived a life of the greatest depravity for many preceding years. He had been, he said, originally a clergyman of the Church of England, had been left a small fortune, and had graduated at Trinity College, Cambridge. But, having fallen into evil courses, through his fondness for company and wine, he had gradually been excluded from the society he was born for, and, finally, had been obliged to fly to America to escape the vengeance of the law. In the colonies he had met Arrison, had become a confederate in his villainies, and had consented to be the tool of Aylesford and him in the clandestine marriage of Miss Rowan. Neither of his employers, however, were aware of his true clerical character; but supposed his assumption of the robes was only a cleverly managed disguise. Nor was this all. Abandoned as he was, the fallen clergyman had still some conscience left, so that he secretly procured the documents necessary to render the marriage a valid one, in all respects. Subsequently he had left Philadelphia, and had remained absent for years, having only returned, in the last stage of a consumption, a few weeks before sending for the rector. A principal object of his coming back, he confessed, was the desire to make reparation for the great wrong he had done Mistress Rowan. Nothing in his whole career, though he acknowledged to being stained with the blackest crimes, had ever affected him, he said, like his share in that treacherous transaction. He had just succeeded in tracing the poor victim, in discovering that she had been abandoned by her husband, and in ascertaining that she died after a few years of toil and shame, when his disease assumed so violent a character that he was unable to prosecute further inquiries. What had become of the child, whether it was dead or living, he had been unable to ascertain. In this extremity, tormented by restless anguish, he had sent for the rector of Christ Church, and placing in the good clergyman’s hands the proofs of the legality of the marriage, enjoined him to endeavor to discover the fate of the orphan. Having done this, he seemed more at ease, and expired the same night, shortly after the rector had departed.

“As soon as you came to town, and I saw your little cousin in your pew, I felt that the lost child was discovered,” continued the clergyman. “But it was not until I had more certainly ascertained that she was really your blood-connection, that I ventured to take the present liberty.”

It now became necessary to acquaint Mrs. Warren with Maggy’s real parentage, and consequently with one of those transactions in her nephew’s life which had been studiously concealed from her. It was, at first, a terrible shock to the poor creature. But after awhile she became more reconciled to it, finding those excuses which simple, loving hearts like hers always will. It had the beneficial effect, in the end, of making her almost worship little Maggy, whom heretofore she had treated, as we have seen, with comparative indifference. The orphan now came in for the love that had been lavished on Aylesford, and Mrs. Warren entered eagerly into all Kate’s plans for the instruction of Maggy; but especially did the good lady interest herself in what she called the “domestic” education of the child, saying naively to her protege; “my dear, as every woman’s proper destiny is to be a wife, and to be happy as a wife, it is indispensable that you should know how to prepare a good table for your husband, as all men like good eating, and can indeed be best kept in humor by tickling their palates.” This remark was the nearest approach to wit which the dowager ever made; and was slyly quoted to Major Gordon by Kate, as a commentary on his sex.

No one could have progressed with greater rapidity in her studies than did Maggy. Perhaps it is a mistake, into which modern times have fallen, that they put children to school too soon; for, if the young intellect was left unvexed awhile longer, it would probably learn all the quicker when once it began. Certainly, little Maggy, who, at ten years old, could read with difficulty, made the most astonishing progress, so that, by the time she was fourteen, no young lady of her age could boast of so many acquirements. The superior education which Kate herself had received was doubtless of benefit to the child, because it enabled our heroine to impart much instruction not then taught in American schools. In music Maggy had an exquisite ear, while her voice was one of great promise. To hear her sing the simple ballads, then so popular, often brought tears into the eyes of the listeners. It is a strange sight to see such effects produced in our days; but it would be heretical nevertheless to say that we ought to give up opera music in parlors, and return to the artless, plaintive song; for of course we are wiser in this, as in other things, than our ancestors; and it is quite absurd to think that there can be music unless the windows shake, the piano shudders as if in an ague fit, and the dear, sweet performer, opens her month as if she was about to swallow music sheets, instruments and all.

Among those who shed tears, at hearing Maggy’s ballads, were several French noblemen, officers in the army of his most Christian Majesty Louis the Sixteenth, at that time the good ally of the confederated States of America. These members of the most artificial and luxurious court in Europe, the principal part of whom had joined the expedition to reinforce Washington out of sheer ennui, having long ago exhausted every phase of life that even Paris presented, were delighted beyond measure at the artless singing of this innocent child of nature. It was not mere highbred courtesy either, which induced them to extol her simple ballads, though never were men more polished in manner than the French nobility of that day. But, as we have said, the unbidden tears started into their eyes as they listened, and there was an earnestness in their tones, that carried the conviction of truth with them, when they told Major Gordon that they had never heard such singing from the gay Marchionesses of Versailles, or even the stars of the opera.

For it was with Major Gordon that these visitors always came. Whenever a French officer brought letters of introduction to the city, our hero was one of the first he called upon; and the latter took his guest to the Aylesfords, as a matter of course. Indeed, had he not done so, he would have constantly been besieged for an introduction to our heroine, as the Duc de Lauzun, who had met her early in the winter, went back to camp enthusiastic in her praise. “La belle Americaine,” as he called her, had, he said, the grace and refinement of a Marchioness, with a freshness and originality that was perfectly bewitching. It was said of him, by his intimates, that he had really lost his heart; and it is certain that, years after, when he had became le Duc de Biron, he would talk of the fair Philadelphian; and once he was heard to declare, with a sigh, that he had seen, in America, “the sprightliness and beauty of Marie Antoinette, combined with the innocence and truthfulness of St. Pierre’s Virginia;” and it was to our heroine that he referred.

If Mrs. Warren worshipped Maggy, the orphan adored her cousin. It was beautiful, indeed, to see the constant evidences which the child gave of her affection for Kate. When the latter spoke even the most trivial words, Maggy listened eagerly, and seemed by her looks to appeal to others to hear also. On one occasion, when our heroine was sick for a few days with cold and fever, the orphan went almost distracted. She always waylaid Dr. Rush on his retiring, in order to receive the assurance from himself, that Kate was really only triflingly indisposed. When her cousin recovered sufficiently to come down again to dinner, Maggy was nearly beside herself for joy, dancing and skipping about the convalescent, bursting into snatches of song, and continually catching Kate’s hand and kissing it.

This slight indisposition reminded our heroine of an unfulfilled intention regarding Maggy. Kate had early resolved to dower the orphan with a portion of her own wealth, and now, as soon as she had recovered, she sent for her attorney and directed him to make out a deed of gift, in favor of the child, as well as to prepare other law papers for her.

“If anything should happen to me,” she said, “I wish my affianced husband to inherit the principal part of my estate; but I wish, as much, that Maggy shall not be unprovided for; and I desire also to leave a competence to my aunt.”

These generous wishes were accordingly fulfilled. The Major, when he heard of the intentions of his betrothed with respect to himself, would have remonstrated; but Kate silenced him by the gravity of her reply, declaring that, “if he was not worthy to be entrusted with her fortune, in case of her decease, he surely was not with her happiness, if she lived.”

Thus the winter passed on. March, with its blustering winds, succeeded; April, fickle as ever, followed; and May, blushing and beautiful, came in. The appointed time of the wedding had nearly arrived, and every body was on the qui vive for an event which promised to be so dazzling.