CONFESSIONS OF A FLIRT.

Auckland Examiner, Volume IV, Issue 273, 16 June 1860, Page 3

CONFESSIONS OF A FLIRT.

Chapter IL {Continued from our last.} Ah 1 cast thou not affection from thee In this bitter world. Hold to thy breast that only treasure fast ; Watch, guard it: suffer not a breath todim The bright gem’s purity.

One short month passed away, anti found me faithful to my promise. I still loved Goodwin St.John. I had written regularly and received letters from him in return full of warm-hearted affection ; he spoke of our reunion with rapture, and blessed me over and over aga’n for the happiness I had giren him. He little knew the frail, inconstant nature of the one he so trusted in, or how utterly unworthy she was of his noble, generous affection. About this time my volatile friend, Lucy Hill, called upon me with the news that she was shortly to be married. She was almost as fond of flirting and admiration as myself; but I had always liked her for her extreme irood-nature. She was almost in ecstacies about her future life ; her hnsbmd and homejwere perfection ; she described her carriages, dresses, and jewellery, in glowing colours, and ended it by asking me to be her bridesmaid.

But you don’t deserve it, you silly thing she said, for doing such a mad action as engaging yourself to a poor parson ; why, with your beauty and tact you might have made a great conquest as I have done. She fluttered away, and I was not half as angry with her as I should have been ; a feeling very like dissatisfaction filled my breast, for the first time since my en-

gagement. I looked round my beautifullv-furnished boudoir, and could not resist the wish that Goodwin hud been rich, and the thought that he was not, made me sigil, and 1 felt fettered ; bnt I chased these thoughts from my mind, and turned my whole attention to the approaching wedding. The old spirit reigned within me,

and I determined to ontshine the rest of the bridesmaids ’ and the bride herself if I could. With this laudable end in view; I selected my dress with the greatest care ; I gave my whole attention to it, and it alone. Goodwin was somtimes forgotten in my anxiety about it. I wrote to him as usual, but my letters were filled with accounts of the coming gaieties , I was always describing some article of dress, or writing upon other topics equally as uninteresting to him. At length he very gently reproved me for thinking so much of the vanities of this world, and ventured to ask me whether I still continued my studies. This, in my present state of mind, was more than i could bear without resentment, so I wrote a short cold letter in return. The day after I had written was

the one on which I was to exhibit my dress and beauty at Lucy's wedding, so J did not hear from Goodwin again until it was over.

It was a beautiful October morning when I rose to dress ; the leaves on the trees in the park presented such a diversity of color as tho sweet morning breeze gently stirred them, that i opened my window and looked out Some of them were sere and yellow, and gleamed like gold in the brilliant sun.-h'ne. The birds in the branches poured fuith such floods of melody from their tiny throats that I listened entranced. They seemed to be recalling me to the path of duty, and with a softened heart, I thought of Goodwin ; but still I did not wish him there, for I knew his presence would be a restraint upon me, and my weak mind was bent upon further conquest. Far better would it have been if I had stayed looking at the trees, and listening to the birds ; but my maid summoned me to dress, and I proceeded to the all-important business of the toilet. I was rewarded for all my exertion, when I stood before my glass ready to go, my white dress so fine and delicate floating round my tall figure like cloud. I wore a scarfof the same thin fabric, a small white bonnet almost covered with roses, and in my hand I held a simple bouquet of moss rose buds. I kissed my dear father, as he attended me to the door and with a proud smile, entered the carriage ; it rolled smoothly along, and i was soon in tbejnidst of a bevy of fair girls waiting for the bride. She eame at last, looking very lovely, in her rich lace veil that almost swept the ground, I was first bridesmaid, and soon found myself in a carriage with Sir Frederick Fanshawe, who was first groomsman. Lucy had told me in a hurried whisper that Sir Frederick was a baronet, and very rich. He was a great friend of Mr Howard’s—the bridegroom—and their estates were very near each other. I looked at him rather curiously ; he was young and handsome ; but there was an expression on his countenance, I did not quite like, at least, it was very different to the clear open look of Goodwin St. John ; yet he was so agreeable that I soon forgot it, and we laughed and flirted merrily.

At length we stood before the alter, and I heard Lucy take upon herself those solemn vows. I liked Mr. Howard and I felt sore my friend would be to him a kind and affectionate wife.

When we returned to Hillsbrook, I soon found of what great consequence Sir Frederick was. All the girls were eager to attract bis attention, and he was courted and flattered on every side ; but to my infinite satisfaction, 1 saw he preferred me to any of them ; he was always near me, and at the ball in the evening, danced with me repeatedly. I was flattered, and t know my eyes were brilliant with ill-concealed triumph. Sir Frederick took me to the carriage, and in an earnest tone begged he might have the happiness of calling upon me in the morning. Hardly knowing what I said I consented. And that morning I received a letter from my betrothed, in answer to the short note I had sent him. He entreated my forgiveness, and wrote so affectionately, that my conscience reproached me bitterly for my conduct. He loved me so dearly, and so fondly trusted me. If I could have received it 'only one day sooner, I might have been saved ; hut it was too late,—too late, I sat with.the letter in my hand, when Sir Frederick was announced. In a moment I put it away and strove to forgot jt. 1 succeeded too well. He was so gay and and brilliant. He complimented me kindly on my appearance the day before, and flattered my vanity so much that I admired him more than ever. I watched his gay equipage, with his stately greys, ns it rolled majestically away, and heaved a sigh of regret as I thought it might have been mine—yes, it was regret, my tie was making itself felt, I began to know that 1 was fast, and honor could not break my bonds.

(To be eoutinued in our next.)