perceived Rosemaldon and his father walking on the lawn. Ernest sprang forward in joyful surprise, as soon as he saw the vehicle, and stood impatiently waiting until the servant had opened the door; then, entreating Dungarvon to accompany him to the library, he hastened into the house; and for a full hour they were shut in there alone, engaged in conversation.

If Dungarvon had felt unhappy at the thought of the approaching explanation, which, in making Ernest aware of his cousin's misconduct, and enabling him to depart from his engagement to her with honour, would, at the same time, oblige him to declare that Horatia never could be his wife; what were the feelings of our heroine, when the carriage drove off, which was to convey the Earl to Gunnersdown? The sacrifice was completed. Ernest's misery would be averted by her father, 'twas true; but her own life would henceforward be a blank. She watched the carriage until it disappeared between the thick hedges which lined the road; then slowly turning from the

door, she went up to the Countess, and related every particular of their journey, together with the behaviour of the guilty steward, on his death-bed, and the confession he had made regarding his devices against Rosemaldon and herself. The Countess listened with alternate horror and gratitude to Providence. The wretch was gone who had watched every chance and opportunity to destroy their happiness; and Rosemaldon having fortunately escaped his machinations, and being still unmarried, she suffered her mind to dwell on the delightful prospects which seemed at length opening to their view. Horatia would be the wife of Ernest, and live at Gunnersdown, the beautiful home of her own childhood.

"Let me wish you joy," she said, in a gladdened voice: "the events of the last few hours have changed the aspect of affairs completely, and your virtue, my dearest Horatia, will at last be rewarded by happiness."

"Alas, no!" answered Horatia; "I have not yet informed you:" and she repeated all that had passed between Dungarvon and

herself, his view of the duty imposed upon them, and her consequent promise not to see the Marquis in future.

"Dear, inconsiderate girl, what have you agreed to? the Earl is too severe:" and the Countess added, "I cannot believe that your father will persist in enforcing a promise wrested from you, and without the consideration which you were bound, in honour to the Marquis, to give to such a demand. His mother, Horatia, was my first and kindest friend; and I should hold myself guilty of a crime towards her, though dead, did I yield my consent to this rejection of her son. You were the first choice of Rosemaldon; he loved you before his engagement to his cousin took place; and surely, when her treachery is unveiled, and her love proved to be a passionate desire for his rank and fortune merely, the severest censurer cannot find fault with you for marrying the only man you have ever loved, or with Ernest for his fond devotion."

"My father will never consent," said Horatia, making a desperate impulse to speak com

posedly; "you have not studied his character as I have; and you cannot imagine, therefore, the tenacity with which he retains any opinion which he has formed, particularly where his honour is concerned. I am sure he would rather lose his life than the respect of mankind."

"He was always too hasty in forming his decisions," answered the Countess, with a sigh;

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and, with all his noble and generous qualities of heart and mind, he is fond of power. This is an affair on which he should not have decided alone. The Duke of Gaston would have been the friend on whom he might have safely depended for aid and counsel. Few men have much experience in the softer emotions of the heart; generally, they reason and command, when they should feel."

"That is not the case here," said Horatia, who looked up to her father as the model on which she had, from her earliest childhood, based every idea of a high-minded and perfect character: "he loves me better than himself, and has ever treated me with the tenderest indulgence. If I seemed reluctant to give up Rose

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THE COURTIER'S DAUGHTER.

maldon, it was because I had begun too soon to shadow out pictures of happiness which honour forbids us to realize: it is not that I doubt my father's right to dictate to me; I submit to his decision, and I feel that it is a proper one.'

"I will say no more," answered the Countess; "if you are able to relinquish Rosemaldon for the world's opinion, I can only lament your determination. I cannot reverse it."

Horatia opened the window, and leaned out. The night was beautifully clear and still: not a sound was heard, but the gentle rustling of the fragrant orange leaves, and the murmur of the moonlit stream. "How lovely!" whispered Horatia; "silence has a voice which speaks of security and peace, tranquillity to the heart. Whose voice was that?" she cried, throwing back the long ringlets from her face.

"Nothing, my love," answered Lady Dungarvon," you are over-excited."

Horatia listened intently.

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Again I hear

it. Hush he is there, in the room below,