knights and paladins, of romance and song, and chivalry." " I must own that I was completely deceived by Viola's manner, and, long after they had all retired to rest, I sat ruminating over the probable causes that might perchance have induced a change of sentiment. Had she, I thought, like him, been shocked by the personal ravages which time had made ? but no, I felt this was impossible, for Mr. Lyndham was not in the least altered. Before his departure, he had, like many men of his dark complexion, looked some ten or fifteen years older than his actual age; and now time, with a fine sense of retributive justice, was making him due reparation, for Mr. Lyndham certainly did not appear to have aged one single year since last I saw him; besides, I could not but mentally acknowledge that had he come among us bent and emaciated, wretched and poverty-stricken, Viola's devoted affection would have known no diminution, perhaps it would rather have strengthened her love. In manner, too, Mr. Lyndham had decidedly improved; there was a pervading suavity and amenity, a studious consideration for the feelings of others, which in former days he had never evinced; even to me he was now sedulously polite. The education of the world, the school of life, had, as far as might be judged from outward circumstances, greatly benefited him. Once only during the evening had Viola evinced any agitation; and that was when, in answer to a question addressed to him by Mrs. Sidney, as to the cause of his long absence from town, Mr. Lyndham said that he had been summoned on legal business by an old friend who had lately succeeded, in right of his mother, to a magnificent estate in the south. There was a tremor on Viola's lip as she asked, "Is Lady Sarah then dead ?" "She is," replied Mr. Lyndham hurriedly; and he quickly changed the conversation. Viola was evi dently not aware that she had followed the train of her own thoughts rather than of Mr. Lyndham's words, when she thus divined that he was alluding to Turretcliff and its inhabitants; but with this solitary exception, Viola had never, even for one moment, lost her self-possession. Midnight came, and found me musing. At length I resolved upon retiring to rest; as I passed Viola's apartment, I was surprised to find, from the light that gleamed beneath the doorway, that she at least was wakeful as myself. I paused one moment, and I distinctly heard her pacing the room with hurried and uneven step; I thought too that I distinguished a faint sob. Agitated as I was, I paused not to consider, but hastily threw open the door. In the centre of the room stood Viola, an open letter was in her hand, whilst the fragments of another lay strewn about the floor; she was in the act of trampling a withered flower beneath her feet; a small casket was on the table near her; I had seen that casket before. "What do you here, cousin Dorothy," she exclaimed; "why are you not in bed? if you have any thing to say, speak it quickly. I would be alone." Her sweet, silvery-toned voice was harsh and untuneful, its accents grated on my ear. There was an unnatural fire in her eye, and a fierce excitement in her manner which scared me. It was the first time she had ever spoken unkindly to me: it was the first time she had made me feel my presence might be deemed intrusive, and bursting into tears I turned to leave the apartment. "Forgive me, Dorothy," she said; "forgive me if unintentionally I have pained you; but there are sorrows which we would veil from every eye, which we would fain conceal even from ourselves; there are griefs for which friendship has no balm-affection no solace. Then leave me, oh, leave me. It is over, Dorothy, it is past; fool, fool that I have been! That look, that one look, what did it not reveal? Hopes fondly cherished, which had burned brightly through that long series of years; a love which neither time, nor doubt, nor absence, had had the power one moment to estrange; all, all vanished before that withering, blighting look." Unable longer to restrain my indignation, I exclaimed, "Falsehearted, dishonourable" "No, no, no," said Viola, interrupting me, "I have only myself to blame. What right had I to expect that it should be otherwise? He has broken no engagement. By no vows of constancy did he bind. himself at parting; no protestations of unchanging affection did he offer; we separated 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 befal, whatever unforeseen events may occur,-that, in short, let what will betide, it shall never escape your lips that once I was beloved by Lyndham, that he was-that he, alas! isall 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 may 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-anything but sleep. CHAPTER XXVII. Is all the counsel that we two have shared, SHAKSPEARE. However we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, 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 secresy. 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 foresee 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, |