renders you capable of forming a just estimate of the woman, who would be most likely to promote your happiness. Your studies are completed; and you have travelled as long as your inclination leads you. It is time, then, that you should think of introducing a daughter into my family. I have on a former occasion mentioned to you, that I would make ample provision for your marriage, and you have now only to prefer any other request to me on the subject. In consulting your wishes, I have every thing this world can give me.

It has long appeared to

me a dreary waste; and had I not an object in you, which still holds me to it, I would gladly lay this weary head to rest." As he concluded, again a tear betrayed his emotion. A long and deep silence ensued; broken only by a sigh which escaped from the Baron at intervals. At length Alphonzo summoned resolution to reply:

"I cannot but be sensible of your kindness, father; and I would willingly. testify it by my conduct. I do not desire to keep a secret in my breast to which you are a

stranger, because I wish to harbour none that I should be ashamed to communicate to you." Here he stopped for a little to compose himself, and again proceeded in his avowal. "You have, perhaps, remarked that I have been absent from the castle more frequently of late; and it is not impossible but you may have your conjectures—I would not say of an evil nature," added the ingenuous youth, while a glow of crimson bespoke him not unmoved, "concerning the cause. It is true, father, and I will candidly acknowledge it, that my affections, if I am not mistaken, are now fixed whence death only can withdraw them. The events of this day have discovered me to myself. You enquired last week, if I had seen Miss du Blesne. At that period I had not, as I stated; but I have since had an accidental interview with her. I met her this morning -and❞—his colour deepening as he spoke"I believe-if she would not refuse my overtures-that"

"You could be happy with her," said the Baron, relieving him from a further confes

to nurse her in person, aided only by the medical knowledge which the Major had acquired amongst his sick and wounded comrades, and by the sweeter and more ef fectual balm of his supplications on behalf of her patient.

Seated beside the bed, gazing on the halfclosed eye, and convulsed visage, of the meek sufferer, she unconsciously gave utterance to her thoughts. "Poor Emily! now I perceive what has so long lain heavy on thy heart. Could I have imagined that in childhood thou hadst placed thine affections, whence thou couldst never recall them, I might have been able sooner to have afforded thee relief. But thy humility, thy meekness, thy resignation, may yet, I trust, not be without their reward." At this instant she was interrupted by observing the lips of her * patient quivering. She listened, and heard her as if communing with herself, through

her slumbers:

"But, oh! why did I betray myself? I

trusted I should have been enabled to meet him with more composure. But it was so

unexpected.... I was quite unprepared. And yet was it not the Divine permission? I require the rod.... and it may, perhaps, be already suspended over me.... But, he could not have remembered me when far away! .... So many years have elapsed since! O no, it is impossible.... He would not have remained so long absent.... He would, at least, have sent me some slight token of remembrance. . . . But, I will carry the secret unrevealed, till I am laid where the weary rest..... O my God, sustain me, that I may not dishonour thy holy religion." She now gradually became more composed. The concluding petition, offered on the altar of the Divine glory, seemed to have gone up as a memorial, and to have brought down an answer of peace. The Spirit appeared to move over the troubled waters of her heart, and they presently ceased their tumult, and the tempest died into a calm. Her muscles resumed their tone; her countenance relaxed into a smile: her bosom heaved more quietly; and she sunk into a deep sleep. From this she

awoke towards evening; and after taking some slight nourishment, and being commended in prayer by her kind friend to the care of Him, who maketh darkness, and it is night,' and whose angels encamp about the bed of his saints,' she again sunk into a tranquil repose, when Mrs. Villaret, feeling that she might now leave her with safety, rejoined the Major, who had been waiting for her with considerable anxiety.

"Well, how is poor Emily?" said he, as Mrs. Villaret entered the room, where he was sitting with Desmaret's Annotations before him.

"Better, I hope. Her agitation seems to have subsided, and she has just dropped asleep. Poor thing! Though she and I have been so long on terms of the closest intimacy, it was only from the most casual expression, that I was ever led to believe that her affections were engaged."

"Ah, my dear," replied the Major, resuming a conversation which had been interrupted; "I can feel for her, and pity her: but, possibly-"