beauty of the lady, was commented on, her dress described, and the subject was dwelt on, till Edward, fatigued with her endless gossip, and unable longer to hide his unhappiness, hastily left her, and walked down to the sands to cool the fever which raged in every vein; where we shall, for the present, leave him, till we inquire how the other personages in our story have been disposing of themselves.

Long had Sir Pelham watched for an opportunity of declaring to Catherine the attachment with which she had inspired him. Fortune at last favoured him, and on the day in which Charlotte and Edward parted in mutual anger, Sir Pelham encountered Catherine in a retired and shady part of the road leading from Duddingstone. Here, then, was offered to Catherine Dundas rank and fortune beyond her wishes, but offered in vain; for their possessor had failed to touch her heart. This blow was deeply felt by Sir Pelham, who, in the ardour of his entreaties that she would leave

him some hope of making an interest in her affections, had just taken her hand, when a turn of the road brought Willoughby close upon them.

The earnestness of Sir Pelham, his attitude, and the deep confusion of Catherine as she snatched her hand from him, all convinced Willoughby of the certainty of his misfortune, and casting one glance on them, he fiercely struck his spurs into his horse's sides, and was out of sight in a moment.

There wanted but this to complete the unhappiness of Catherine. Believing that honour required it of her, she had concealed her affection for Willoughby under an appearance of coldness and reserve, but she could not endure that he should think she preferred another.

Shocked and distressed at this scene, and anxious to terminate the entreaties of Sir Pelham, Catherine summoned all her firmness, and again rejected his suit, and in a manner so decided, as at once to deprive him of every hope that his devoted attach

ment might prevail with her to alter her determination. Sir Pelham then, in a broken voice, thanked her for her candour, expressed the most ardent wishes for her future happiness, passionately kissed her hand, and left her.

When Catherine reached Hope Street, the excessive paleness and agitation of her countenance instantly attracted the attention of Lady Lennox, who, alarmed by her evident disorder, entreated her to go to bed, and that she would send off without delay for medical advice; but aware that it was the mind only which was suffering, Catherine persuaded her to relinquish the latter proposal, and insisting that rest and quietness was all she required, promised to go to bed for a few hours. Somewhat relieved by the assurance that her indisposition was trifling, her ladyship kindly attended her to her apartment, and after seeing her in bed, she drew the curtains, closed the shutters, and left poor Catherine to enjoy undisturbed all the luxury of grief.

In an agony of distress, Sir Pelham wandered for hours on the banks of the loch. He felt that Catherine never would be his; and as he recalled every expression which she had used in rejecting his suit, her eagerness and anxiety to take from him all hope of ever gaining her heart, the painful suspicion crossed his mind that she loved another. Who then was his happy rival? Certainly not Spencer, whose attachment to Ellinor he had long known. Could it be Willoughby? He could not believe this possible, as he had seen Catherine's desire to avoid him. In this perplexity, his suspicions fell on the handsome stranger, whom Ellinor evidently knew, but had not acknowledged; and regarding whom she had dropt some hints, connecting him with Catherine; and Sir Pelham, having succeeded in persuading himself that he had a favoured rival, became every instant more irritable and gloomy.

After a long interval, during which he gave himself up to grief and despair, he

suddenly recollected the uneasiness his sister would be suffering in consequence of his unusual absence. He therefore hastened home, and found from the domestics, that Amy, alarmed at his non-appearance, had gone to seek him on the sands. Sir Pelham quickly followed her, and had just reached the beach, when he beheld a sight which shook his whole frame with ungovernable passion. This was his supposed rival walking by the side of his sister, who appeared to be endeavouring to get away from him, when he suddenly threw his arm round her to detain her, and attempted to raise her veil.

"Oh, Pelham, where are you, Pelham ?" exclaimed Amy, in an agony of terror and distress.

"Here!" replied Sir Pelham, and, rushing on the insulter of his sister, with one blow laid him prostrate, threw him his card, and then led Amy home, where a passionate burst of tears came to her relief.

As Amy had not seen Sir Pelham give