As for Westall, after the few first moments of absolute despair, he began to think the case not quite desperate—and though Ellen had not spoken a word of encouragement on which he might suspend a hope, neither had she said or intimated that there existed in her feelings any obstacle to his wishes-there were certain tones and expressions, which are the universal language of tenderness, that he had noticed, and which he now laid up in his memory and cherished there, as the faithful fix their eyes on the twilight of prophecy.

In the course of the morning Charles Westall joined the circle at Mr. Lenox's, whither his mother had already gone. He perceived that the tone of the ladies' spirits was raised, (as was indeed too plain) by Ellen's departure.

Westall delivered to Mr. Redwood the pacquet with which he had been entrusted. Mr. Redwood received it with evident surprise, and said, "you have then seen Miss Bruce this morning?" All eyes were now fixed on Westall, who colouring deeply, replied, "that he had met her accidentally during his morning ride."

"Miss Bruce is quite a character," said Caroline: "every thing connected with her is involved in an interesting veil of mystery-par exempleyour son, Mrs. Westall, cannot speak of meeting her even accidentally, without the most portentous blushes; and there is my dear father-the very soul of frankness-thrusting into his pocket a bundle of private communications received from this same

fair one. Upon my word it is a pity she had not flourished at a court, she would have made a pretty intriguante, instead of resembling the man your favourite Moliere describes, papa, when he says, "De la moindre vétille il fait une merveille,

Et jusques au bon jour, il dit tout a l'oreille."* Mr. Redwood darted an angry look on his daughter, and changing his purpose, he tore off the envelope and threw the bank-notes on the table, saying at the same time," behold the solution of the mystery that provokes your wit, Caroline. I offered Ellen Bruce a little of that which gives us all our boasted superiority to her, and she declined receiving it❞—

"With the advice and consent of counsel, no doubt," answered Caroline, glancing her eye at Charles Westall.

“ Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous, but who is able to stand before envy ?"-rose to Westall's lips; he had the grace, however, to suppress it, and to say in a calm tone, "Miss Bruce is her own best counsellor."

"Doubtless," replied Caroline, "Miss Bruce is wondrous wise; but she is not the first divinity who has admitted mortals to her deliberations.What say you, Mrs. Westall? Does not your son look guilty of aiding and abetting this most dignified refusal of my father's extraordinary patronage ?"

"He swells each trifle to a wonder's height,

And takes his friend aside to say good night.'"

"If I look guilty of aught," said Westall, but the involuntary fault of listening to an implication against Miss Bruce, my face does me great injustice."

"Really, Caroline, my love," said Mrs. Westall, in the hope of averting observation from her son, and perceiving the necessity of turning Miss Redwood from her pursuit, "your raillery is quite too much for Charles this morning: I must interpose my maternal shield. What say you to a

truce and a ride ?"

"A truce, certainly; for I am too generous to fight with one hors du combat, and a ride with all my heart," answered Caroline, "provided Mr. Westall is not fatigued by his accidental morning escort-excursion, I mean."

Mr. Westall, with more gravity than gallantry, and in spite of his mother's entreating looks, said "that he must resign the privilege vouchsafed to him, to fulfil an engagement in the village”—and on this pretext he left the party to pursue their design, while he gave the rein to his own meditations.

17

CHAPTER XIV.

"Who made the heart, 'tis he alone

Decidedly can try us;

He knows each chord-its various tone,

Each spring-its various bias."

Burns.

We must now leave the party at Eton, which we hope that our readers will think has lost its chief interest since the departure of our heroine, and we shall exempt them from attending her in her wearisome progress, since it was diversified by no danger real or imaginary, to recall their attention to the sorrows of the simple amiable little fanatic Emily Allen.

She returned to her monastic seclusion with her aunt, or as she called her (according to the fashion of "the Believers," who acknowledge none but primitive titles and relations,) her elder sister,' more from a habit of passive obedience, than from any distaste to the world. Our readers may recollect that at parting with James Lenox she had received from him a slip of paper, and succeeded in hiding it in her bosom. He had written on it a strong expression of his love, and an entreaty that she would abandon her false religion. From the moment she placed it in her

bosom, her heart fluttered and struggled as an imprisoned bird when her mate approaches her cage. She regarded it as a temptation, but had no strength, hardly a wish to resist it. All her solitary moments (they were rare and brief) were devoted to reading this note over and over again. She felt herself immured in a dungeon, and from this the only gleam of light she could not for a moment turn her thoughts.

The uniform habits and monotonous occupations of this singular community have a strong tendency to check every irregular feeling, and to intercept every vagrant desire. But in vain did Emily try their sedative influence. She was one of the highest, and even there, where few distinctions obtain, most privileged order, called, par excellence,' the church.' Susan's gifts had advanced her to the lead, and Emily's graces were looked upon by the fraternity as the herald blossoms of like precious fruit. But since her return from her fatal visit to the "world's people," she had become an object of intense anxiety to Susan, and of solicitude or distrust to the rest of the society. Susan had no suspicion of the real cause of her discontent; she imputed it to the workings of her natural affections, the dying sparks of which, not quite extinguished by grace, had been rekindled by her late visit to her kindred.

Little did this stern enthusiast imagine, as she watched over her young disciple with maternal tenderness, how much there was of natural and ori