whom. I immediately went in search of Mrs. Lennox, and said I had inadvertently read a letter addressed to her son. Before she could pos

6

sibly have seen what I held in my hand, she exclaimed, Oh! what have I done! You have found Mr. Dunallan's letter to George. What shall I do! George will never forgive me.' George fortunately entered the room at that moment, and as I saw Mrs. Lennox was merely affecting to dread her son's displeasure, I told him of my mistake, showed him what I had read, and assured him, as he really appeared distressed at my having seen this character of myself, that I thought it fortunate I had, as I might correct the faults imputed to me. George took an early opportunity of imparting to me his own views and wishes. He saw his mother's plans for him, and dreaded that I might suspect he had entered into them. I have felt as a sister for George ever since that day: but I must not now spend time in talking of him. Tell me, Elizabeth, do you think it possible for me to look forward to a connection for life with this man without dread?”

Elizabeth shook her head, but remained si

lent.

"I believe," continued Catharine, “you agree with me in thinking what I have already told you, sufficient to take away all hopes of happiness from such an union: yet this is not all. I have described him as a son, and as a master; I have

still to make you acquainted with him as a friend and a brother. You have met with Mr. Clanmar. You know that he and Dunallan were educated together when boys. They afterwards travelled together in Holland, Germany, and other countries. You have heard that Mr. Clanmar, to the inexpressible grief of his friends, brought home a young German lady as his wife, whose character suffered extremely from the suspicious circumstances attending her marriage : in short, had her first child lived, his legitimacy might have been disputed; and this marriage was brought about, the Clanmars say, by Dunallan, whose influence over young Clanmar was then unbounded. The young lady is singularly interesting, and was a mere child at the time of her marriage; so the poor Clanmars are now, in some degree, reconciled to it: but they openly declare they can never regard Mr. Dunallan but as the most detestable of hypocrites; in short, there is something worse than I know in this story, at least there are dreadful suspicions. Young Clanmar, who is universally esteemed as one of the most amiable tempered men in the world, and indeed as very perfect in every way, never mentions Dunallan's name; and though formerly so devotedly attached to him, they now have no intercourse whatever."

"Dear Catharine !" exclaimed Elizabeth, "is

it possible Lord Dunallan knows all this, and yet can suffer you to be united to this man!"

She

"Yes, my own Elizabeth, my father knows it all; but he hates the Clanmars, who have always opposed him in the county, and supposes they have exaggerated these stories. I fear however, they are too true; for I can see no reason for people, so remarkable for pride of birth as they are, choosing to exaggerate stories which are disgraceful to the wife of him, who will soon be the representative of their boasted family. But now, my Elizabeth, I shall tell you the history of his only sister, as we may be interrupted. has been dead, you know, about two years, and left two children. She was older than Dunallan, and before he left Oxford, had, with her father's consent, married a young Englishman of family and fortune. It was on Dunallan's quitting Oxford, that he first showed his dislike to living at home; and he spent much of his time in England at the house of his brother-in-law, Mr. Harcourt. For some time Mr. Harcourt continued one of the gayest and most fashionable men about London, but he gamed so deeply, that he very soon ruined his fortune. Dunallan went abroad in less than two years after leaving Oxford, and remained absent, until called to England by Harcourt's intreaties, whose creditors had become very troublesome. He so arranged matters, that Har

court was permitted to accept of an appointment in India; but, ever cold and unfeeling, he compelled his unfortunate sister to remain in this country, though separation from her now unfortunate but still beloved Harcourt almost deprived her of existence. Dunallan's command of fortune, however, made him all powerful. Harcourt himself intreated his wife to remain. She died two years afterwards of a broken heart. Her children are with Dunallan, or rather with an aunt of his, whom he has got to superintend his domestic concerns, including me, I suppose. And now Elizabeth, you know his character, tell me, my real friend, what do you think I ought to do? I have given my promise to my father; I cannot retract it but if I could delay-if I could induce Mr. Dunallan to give up his pursuit. He has the worst opinion of me. What can I do?"

Elizabeth continued silent for a few moments, then asked her friend whether she thought it quite impossible to change her father's wishes.

"Quite so, my Elizabeth. Ah, if you knew the various means I have tried in vain. I ought not to wish it," added she, rising, and bursting into tears; "I have had many happy years from his kindness; I ought not to repine at sacrificing the rest of my life to him."

"Allow me to speak on the subject to Mr. Dunallan when he arrives," said Elizabeth.

"But would that be fulfilling my promise to

my father? No, no; I must go on.

:

Come here, my Elizabeth look at those woods; look at those distant mountains, and those soft hills still nearer. Look at that smooth lake, as it reflects its surrounding scenery, and tell me what you feel."

Elizabeth gazed with admiration at the glorious scene before her, and then replied, "I feel, Catharine, that I could never be very unhappy with nature around me so sweet, so sublimely beautiful and soothing; unless I had lost for ever some beloved object, with whom I had enjoyed its charms; or was, by some insurmountable obstacle, separated from such a friend. I have feared to ask the question, Catharine; but there is no separation in your case, I fervently pray, which makes an union with Dunallan so dreadful to you."

"No, my dear Elizabeth; you yourself are the dearest friend I have in the world; and you, I hope, will be more with me than you have of late been. My father has watched over my happiness in this respect. In the limited circle in which he has allowed me to mix, there is no one for whom I feel a preference: and I agree with you in thinking, that while I have a heart to feel, and while nature and my friend are left to me, I cannot be quite unhappy. Whatever happens, however, life is not a long affair with any of us; particularly the miserable," added she, her eyes again filling with tears.