tunate 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 father? No, no; I must go on. my 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, 1 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.

Elizabeth threw her arms around her friend, and wept with her, but could find no subject of consolation.

“Who is this aunt of Dunallan's ?” asked she at length.

"She is the most unfortunate human creature I ever heard of," replied Catharine," she has lost her husband, and her whole family of six children. She is talked of as a good sort of woman, but a religious enthusiast. I suppose, poor soul, her misfortunes have affected her understanding, and I feel that I ought to pity her; yet what a companion! Dunallan is equally gloomy and enthusiastic. Oh! my father, what a cruel choice! As he says of me, he is the complete opposite of what I could ever find it pos

sible to love. But here comes Martin, and I must bid adieu to this subject. My heart feels relieved by conversing with you, my own Elizabeth; but perhaps if I am not to appear very unhappy to my father, it will be necessary to avoid in future such softening intercourse."

Elizabeth agreed; and embracing each other, as if in giving up this soothing confidence, they had given up their last consolation, Elizabeth left her young friend with the wondering Martin, who had come earlier than usual to call her lady on this eventful day.

Martin had suspected, however, that Mr. Dunallan's arrival was no cause of joy to her young mistress. Catharine's early rising, and the tears in her eyes, confirmed her suspicions, and made her less unwilling to agree to her lady's determination to wear a very plain morning dress.

Catharine had no desire to please Mr. Dunallan. If she could have concealed her face, or deprived it of the power of expression, she would have been more satisfied. She had an additional cause of uneasiness in the numerous spectators who must witness her feelings. Lord Dunallan, from a dread of his daughter's gentle submissive looks, and melancholy sweetness of manners, which were now the only means she used to induce him to pity her; and perhaps from a dread of his own feelings, when about to part from a child he loved next to his family and name, had invited the neighbouring families in succession for several weeks. To none of them had Catharine imparted her dislike to her approaching marriage; and though the younger part wondered at their beautiful companion thus agreeing, like one of the royal family, to be united to a person she

had scarcely ever seen; and the elder envied the father who had so submissive a child; yet both ascribed this submission to pride, and the same love of family so remarkable in Lord Dunallan. Catharine had perceived this, and the idea of their observing all her actions thus prejudiced, chilled and discouraged her yet she resolved not to transfer their disapprobation from herself to her father by the slightest hint of the truth.

2*

CHAPTER H.

LORD DUNALLAN was alone in the breakfast room when Catharine entered. He received her with tenderness; kissed her forehead; and pressed her hurriedly to his bosom; glanced at her pale countenance; then saying he had forgot something, (she did not hear what,) he left her: but she heard him sigh deeply, which brought tears into her eyes, and confirmed her determination to conceal from him and every one else the dejection she felt.

Elizabeth soon joined her, and then Mrs. Lennox, her son George, and Rose his sister: the St. Clairs of the Isle, Sir Archibald and Lady Cameron of Glenmore, their son, and two daugh

fers.

Every eye during breakfast was turned towards Catharine. Elizabeth endeavoured to divert the attention of the party by proposing plans of amusement for the day, and this in some degree succeeded.

"Miss Dunallan has expressed no preference," said young St. Clair at last. "Miss Dunallan, I know you are fond of riding. Shall we ride? "Oh no! dear Miss Dunallan," exclaimed Rose Lennox, "do consent to the sailing party." "But if Catharine prefers riding," said Miss Cameron.

"We can ride first," replied Catharine," and then sail. The day is charming; we shall have