pitied and rejected. Even then you did not shun me, you would not then forsake me; I held you to my breast, and was assured that your heart was wholly mine! You will be rewarded for this goodness, Julia. I cannot attempt to thank you; for no words could explain to you my feelings. But I write, to resign you to absolve you from every promise of affection which you might consider an obstacle to a future attachment. Dear Julia, you are free-I am nothing to you now-I am nothing to any one-I am marked by heaven with a misfortune which must warn every one to shun me. My mother! Did I think when I beheld her corpse-But reflection is only torment. Time can do nothing for me. But you, Julia, may yet love another; you may become a happy wife. Your friends must wish that you should forget me, and that you do not waste the years of your youth in loving one whom you should only pity. Think

on this you whom I have loved-Oh God!-whom I at this moment love so ardently-so tenderly! Think on my misfortune, on my mother's death.-Would you marry me now, Julia? Can you ever love me? Remember what I may become! -I can even now imagine that my reason totters! Leave me-forget me.-I can bear any thing-pity-laughter-any thingonly forget me, and leave me to my fate!

"It is your duty to marry; I am convinced of it. To love me now would be romantic. Would you renounce your station in society for such a thing as I am?A wife-a mother-Julia! these are the ties which must bind you to the world. You will then live respected and beloved; and at the end of life you will be surrounded and regretted by those to whom you were the chief of blessings. Then let no thoughts of me prevent the wishes of your friends. If Captain Elgar deserves your

love, if you think that he does, then, Julia, remember how my mother died, and let this recollection obliterate all tenderness for me. Marry, and I will daily pray for your happiness; I will implore it from God as the only blessing which can give to me now one ray of comfort! When you are united to another, then, Julia, we are separated. Time, eternity, will be then to me without hope; for even in Heaven your heart will not be mine. My father, surely, may now be satisfied: He said it was my duty to leave you free; that it was an act of generosity to absolve you from every promise. I have done so-what can I do more ?-My task is performed now, Julia, my once own Julia!-Tears!-Am I still so very weak?

"This letter will appear to you strangely incoherent-but I resume my pen to bring it to a conclusion :-Write to me, Julia; tell me that you are well; and tell

me, for the last time, that you still love me. Tell me, that although you see the necessity of renouncing me, yet that you do it with some regret. Tell me this with tenderness, and your letter will be to me a sad consolation.-My own-yes, for this once, my own tenderly beloved Julia, farewell!-Think how ardently I wish your happiness, when I can pray that it may never be disturbed by a remembrance of me!"

CHAPTER XXXI.

I gave myself spontaneously to thee
Nor have I ever with repentant thoughts
Look'd back on this resolve.

My lip knows not to speak that which my heart
Doth not first dictate; yet that lip assures thee,
Swears to thee, that I never will belong

To any one but thee.

ALFIERI

Ir was long before Julia's tears would permit her to come to the conclusion of this letter; but when she had read it, she felt happier than she had done at any time since Henry's departure. Henry still loved her this was her first and most delightful conviction. He styled her " his own