"In truth," returned Mrs. Marbury, "I am willing to suffer some inconvenience from the heat, for the sake of hearing this great preacher."

"But, aunt," said Rosamond, "if you get sleepy, you will not hear him after all."

"O!" replied Mrs. Marbury, "I am never sleepy in church. I am always so attentive that I never feel in the least drowsy."

"O! indeed, aunt, I have often seen you asleep in church," exclaimed Rosamond.

"Impossible, Rosamond, impossible," cried Mrs. Marbury. "You are entirely mistaken. It must have been merely your own imagination."

"Why, dear aunt," said Rosamond, "my father and mother, as well as myself, have all seen you asleep in church. If it was not true, the whole family could not imagine it. It was but last evening, I heard my mother say, that she wished you had not taken a notion to go to church with us on Sunday, as it would prevent her from inviting Miss Leeson, whom she likes far better than you. She said, beside, that fat people take up so much room, that they are always encumbrances every where; and that there was no use at all in your going to church, as you slept soundly all the time you were there, and even breathed so hard as to disturb the congregation."

"And what did your father say to all this?" asked Mrs. Marbury, turning very pale, and looking much shocked and mortified.

"My father," answered Rosamond, "said that, on account of your money, we must endure you, and all the inconveniences belonging to you; for if you were kept in good humour, he had no doubt of your leaving him all your property when you die."

Mrs. Marbury looked aghast. She burst into tears, and Rosamond, finding that she had gone quite too far, vainly attempted to pacify her.

"You may go home, child," exclaimed Mrs. Marbury, sobbing with anger, "you may go home, and tell your father and mother that I shall not trouble them with my company at church or any where else; and when I die, I shall leave my money to the hospital or to some other institution. How have I been deceived! But I shall take care in future not to bestow my affection on those that have any expectations from me."

Rosamond, now very much frightened, declared that she could not take such a message to her parents; and begged her aunt to screen her from their displeasure, by not informing them of the communication she had so indiscreetly made.

Her alarm and agitation were so great, that Mrs. Marbury consented, out of pity, not to betray her to her father and mother; and to excuse herself from going to church with them (which she declared she could never do again) by alleging the heat of the weather, and the probable crowd.

"And now, Rosamond," said her aunt Marbury, "do not think that I feel at all obliged to you for having opened my eyes as to the manner in which your parents really regard me. Their behaviour to me, as far as I could judge for myself, has always been exactly what I wished it; and if their kindness was not sincere, I still thought it so, and was happy in being deceived. And now, after what you have told me, how can I again think of them as I have hitherto done? You have acted basely towards them in repeating their private conversation, and cruelly to your kind aunt, in giving her unnecessary pain and mortification. You have caused much mischief; and who has been the gainer? Not yourself certainly. You have lost my good opinion, for I can never like a tell-tale. I had heard something of your being addicted to this vice; but till now I could not believe it. I shall not betray you to your parents, though you have so shamefully betrayed them to me. But you may rely on it, that sooner or later the discovery will be made, to your utter shame and confusion. Now you may go home, with the assurance that you can no longer be a welcome visitor at my house."

Rosamond departed, overwhelmed with compunction; and in the resolution (which she had so often made and so often broken) never again to be guilty of a similar fault. She gave her aunt's message to her parents, and Miss Leeson was invited to accompany them next day to church.

Two days after, Mrs. Evering went to visit Mrs. Marbury, and to her great surprise heard from the servants that she had left town with some western friends who were returning home; and that she purposed being absent from Philadelphia five or six months; dividing her time among various places on the other side of the Alleghanies, and probably extending her tour to Louisiana, where she owned some land.

Her going away so suddenly without apprising them of her intention, was totally inexplicable to Mr. and Mrs. Evering; and they justly concluded that she must have taken some offence. Rosamond well knew the cause, and rightly supposed that her aunt finding herself unable to meet the family with her former feelings towards them, had thought it best to avoid seeing them for a very long time.

The confusion visible in Rosamond's face and manner when Mrs. Marbury was spoken of, aroused the suspicions of her father and mother: and on their questioning her closely, she confessed, with many tears, that she had really informed her aunt of what had passed on the subject of her accompanying them to church. But as tell-tales have very little candour where themselves are concerned, and as tale-telling always leads to lying, she steadily denied that she had been guilty of the slightest exaggeration in her report to Mrs. Marbury; protesting that she had told her nothing but the simple truth.

From that time, Rosamond was not allowed to visit or call at any house unaccompanied by her mother, who was almost afraid to trust her out of her sight. Her parents avoided discussing any thing of the least consequence in her presence; always remembering to send her out of the room. This mode of treatment very much mortified her; but she could not help acknowledging that she deserved it.

Her father received no intelligence from Mrs. Marbury. He and Mrs. Evering both wrote to her at different times, endeavouring to mollify her displeasure; but not knowing exactly where she was, the letters were not directed to the right places, and did not reach her.

For a long time Rosamond was so unusually discreet, that her parents began to hope that her odious fault was entirely cured.

One day, her chamber having been washed in the afternoon, it was found too damp for her to sleep in with safety to her health; and her mother told her that she must, that night, occupy the room adjoining hers. This room, which was but seldom used, was separated from Mrs. Evering's apartment by a very thin partition; and communicated with it by a door which was almost always kept closed; the bed in each of these chambers being placed against it.

Rosamond, having been awakened in the night by the fighting of some cats in the yard, heard her father and mother in earnest conversation. They had totally forgotten her vicinity to them; and as tell-tales are never wanting in curiosity, she sat up in her bed and applying her ear to the key-hole of the door, she distinctly heard every word they said, though they were speaking in a low voice.

She was soon able to comprehend the subject of their conversation. Mr. Evering was lamenting that the failure of a friend for whom he had endorsed to a large amount, had brought him into unexpected difficulties; but he hoped that he would be able to go on till the sums due to him by some western merchants should arrive.

Next evening, Rosamond was permitted to go to a juvenile cotillon-party, held once a fortnight, at the ball-room of her dancing-master. To this place her mother always accompanied her; and while Mrs. Evering was sitting in conversation with some ladies, a boy named George Granby, who was frequently the partner of Rosamond at these balls, came up and asked her to dance. They were obliged to go to the farthest end of the room before they could get places in a cotillon; and while they were waiting for the music to begin, George, who thought Rosamond a very pretty girl, asked her if she would also be his partner in the country-dance. She replied that Henry Harford had engaged her, at the last ball, for this country-dance.

"Oh!" replied George Granby, "Henry Harford will not be here to-night; his father failed yesterday."

"True," said Rosamond, "I wonder I should have forgotten Mr. Harford's failure, when my father lost so much by him. But when the fathers fail, must the children stay away from balls?"

"Certainly," replied George, "it would be considered very improper for the family to be seen in any place of amusement when its head is in so much trouble, and when they have lost all they possessed."

"O then," exclaimed Rosamond, "I hope my father will not fail till the cotillon-parties are over for the season. There are but two more, and I should be very sorry to give them up. I hope he will be able to go on, at least till after that time. How sorry I shall be when he does fail."

"I believe you," said George; "but what makes you talk about your father's failing? I thought he was considered safe enough."

"Ah! you know but little about it," answered Rosamond. "I heard him tell my mother last night, that he was in hourly dread of failing, in consequence of the great losses by Mr. Harford, and of his own business having gone on badly for a long time. However, say nothing about it, for such things ought not to be told."

"They ought not, indeed," said the boy.

As soon as George Granby went home, he repeated what he had heard from Rosamond, to his father, who was one of Mr. Evering's creditors. The consequence was, that Mr. Granby and all the principal creditors took immediate measures to secure themselves; and Mr. Evering (who could have gone on till he got through his difficulties, had he been allowed time, and had the state of his affairs remained unsuspected,) became a bankrupt through the worse than indiscretion of his daughter. Had Mrs. Marbury been in town, or where he could have had speedy communication with her, he doubted not that she would have lent him assistance to ward off the impending blow. But she had gone away in a fit of displeasure, occasioned, also, by the tattling of Rosamond.

Mr. Granby, who was the chief creditor and a man of contracted feelings and great severity, showed no liberality on the occasion; and proceeded to the utmost extremity that the law would warrant. Every article of Mr. Evering's property was taken; and indeed, since it had come to this, his principles would not allow him to reserve any thing whatever from his creditors.

The scene that ensued in the Evering family, on the day following the ball, can better be imagined than described. Mr. Granby had at once informed Mr. Evering of the source from whence he had derived his information with respect to the posture of his affairs; and when Rosamond found this new and terrible proof of the fatal effects of her predominant vice, she went into an hysteric fit, and was so ill all night, that her parents, in addition to their other troubles, had to fear for the life of their daughter. The sufferings of her mind brought on a fever; and it was more than a week before she was able to leave her bed.

Her father and mother kindly forgave her, and avoided all reference to her fault. But she could not forgive herself, and on the day that they left their handsome residence in one of the principal streets, and removed to a small mean-looking house in the suburbs, her agony was more than words can express. All their furniture was sold at auction, even Rosamond's piano, and her mother's work-table. Their most expensive articles of clothing were put away, as in their present circumstances it would be improper to wear them. The house they now inhabited, contained only one little parlour with a kitchen back of it, and three small rooms upstairs. Their furniture was limited to what was barely useful, and of the cheapest kind. Their table was as plain as possible; and their only servant a very young half-grown girl.

This sad change in their way of living, added to the stings of self-reproach, almost broke Rosamond's heart; and her pride was much shocked when she found that her father had applied for the situation of clerk in a counting-house, as a means of supporting his family till something better should offer.

At length Mrs. Marbury returned; having hurried back to Philadelphia as soon as the intelligence of her nephew's failure had reached her. How did she blame herself for having taken such serious offence at what now appeared to her almost too trifling to remember. All her former regard for the Evering family returned. She sought them immediately in their humble retreat, and offered Mr. Evering her assistance to the utmost farthing she could command.

To conclude, Mr. Evering's affairs were again put in train. He resumed his business; and a few years restored him to his former situation.

This sad, but salutary lesson produced a lasting effect on Rosamond; and from that time, she kept so strict a watch over her ruling passion, that she succeeded in entirely eradicating it. She grew up a discreet and amiable girl; and no one who knew her in after years, could have believed that till the age of fourteen she had been an incorrigible tell-tale.