mutually free and unfettered. He returns after nearly fifteen years absence, he finds me altered, my bloom faded, my youth fled; fled too is that joyous spirit which once had power to charm him. He silently acknowledges that his feelings towards me are changed even as I am changed. There is nothing dishonourable in this. But never shall he know my folly, for well shall my woman's pride combat my woman's love." She sank her head upon the table, and we were silent for many minutes; then suddenly throwing herself before me, she said, "Cousin Dorothy, faithfully have you kept my secret during a weary course of years: you will not now, I think, betray me; yet promise me that, whatever strange chances may befall, whatever unforeseen events may occur,-that, in short, let what will betide, it never shall escape your lips that once I was beloved by Lyndham, that he was-that he, alas! is-all in all to me."

I thought that she must be under the influence of delirium, or how could she imagine that if, after having, for so long a period, religiously kept the trust reposed in me, at a time too, when I believed her love to be reciprocated, I should now, when I saw her crushed to the earth, when I knew her to be virtually rejected, basely betray the confidence she had placed in me. Grieved and offended I answered, "You might have spared me this Viola,

you at least should have known me better; but since you thus doubt my truth, it is possible that my bare promise may scarcely content you; bind me therefore by any oath you please to name,-I will subscribe to it."

"I adjure you then,” said Viola, "by the sacred memory of your mother."

The intensity of despair had given a wild sublimity to her manner, and a tone of lofty command to her voice; she looked, as must have looked a prophetess of old at the moment of inspiration.

"A more solemn adjuration, Viola, you could not have chosen, but I accept it."

"And now," she said, relapsing into her usual calm, self-possessed manner, "here perishes the last memento of my folly;" as she spoke she held over the candle a letter, which at one glance I recognised to be the same she had received from Mr. Lyndham a few days before his departure. The flame caught it, and quickly it was consumed; she gazed fixedly on it until it was reduced to ashes; and then turning to me, said, "Good night!" she put her hand within mine, it was icy cold, and shot a sudden chill even to the very marrow of my bones. I seem to feel that touch now.

"Good night," she said; "you have seen me, Dorothy, in my hour of weakness, but it is

for ever passed. I am purposed that to-morrow shall find me strong to endure, and resolute to act."

I left her, to weep, to watch, to pray, to meditate, to any thing but sleep.

CHAPTER X.

Is all the counsel that we too have shar'd,
The sister's vows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hasty footed time

For parting us,-O! and is all forgot?"

SHAKSPEARE.

However we do praise ourselves,

Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,

More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are."

SHAKSPEARE.

I DARE not trust myself to particularize the occurrences of the next few months. Suffice it then to say, that soon, too soon I perceived wherefore Viola had so earnestly extorted from me that promise of secrecy. Her naturally quick perception, sharpened as it was by her peculiar situation, (for what so quick to discern, or sensitive to feel, as slighted love) had enabled her with "prophetic eye," to forsee that, which I only perceived after the lapse of many weeks.

There was much in the guileless simplicity, and

feminine softness of Lucy's character, which bore a strong analogy to the poet's exquisite delineation of Miranda; and not more pure, more devoted, and scarcely more sudden was the love which the fair Milanese conceived for Ferdinand, than that which Lucy soon betrayed for Lyndham. So strictly secluded indeed had been her life since the days of her childhood, that she might almost have said with Miranda, "This is the third man that e'er I saw;" and truly could she have averred, "the first that e'er I sighed for."

To one of Mr. Lyndham's haughty and imperious disposition, few things could have been more attractive than Lucy's devoted tenderness, which spoke in her eyes, and betrayed itself in every word she uttered. There was a deference to his opinions, a rapt attention to his discourse, a trembling susceptibility to his praise, and an almost tearful deprecation of his displeasure, which could not fail to captivate, nor less perhaps did her girlish beauty win on him who was an avowed idolater of feminine loveliness. Still, even to Mr. Lyndham, I would not willingly be unjust'; and certain it is, that no sooner did he perceive the interest he had excited in Lucy's young and inexperienced heart, than he made a faint effort to detach himself from the fascinations of her society. But no sooner did Mrs. Sidney perceive that Mr.