many of your former secrets, that I flattered myself you would trust me even with this."

"I tell you I have no secret," said Pierce, trying to smile.

"Come, come, indigestion doesn't bring the tears into the eyes of youngsters of your age. Have you quarrelled with Lady Eda?"

"Quarrelled! no. What makes you think that ?"

"What? why, the certainty that something has gone wrong between you two. There's only one thing that could happen to make you unhappy that I know of."

"What's that?" asked More.

"Why, a positive question and a negative answer to be sure! but I don't think this is likely."

Why not?" said Pierce.

"Because it seems to be all plain sailing.

It is evident she likes you."

"Liking is not loving," said More.

"That remains to be proved," returned

Mr. Gregory.

What if it has been proved?"

"And her answer was

no?" said Mr.

Gregory, with a look of surprise.

"Mr. Gregory, you are worming a secret out of me; a secret that is not altogether mine."

"Do you doubt the interest I take in you both?" said Mr. Gregory, feelingly. "I have no other daughter now-I had once-" and the old man's voice trembled as he spoke. "Your secret is safe with me," he added. "She has refused you?"

"For ever," said Pierce, giving way to his emotions as he spoke.

"I am surprised," exclaimed his friend. "Poor fellow!" he said, half to himself. "It is a heavy trial, a very heavy trial for a young heart; One, and only One is able to console us in such afflictions." He took More's hand as he spoke, and his eyes filled with

tears. "Yes, Pierce, I have suffered in my time, but God has always comforted me. Pray to Him."

So saying, Mr. Gregory left the room.

Next morning the chaise was at the door as soon as breakfast was over. Arthur Longvale was perhaps the only person in the house, who sincerely regretted the departure of his friend. More, himself, was able at least to look cheerful; and Lady Eda felt how much better his absence would be for both of them. In the preparation for departure, More watched for an opportunity to put his letter into her hands. She was standing by her cousin ; he went up to her to say good-bye, placed the letter in one hand, and pressing the other, said "God bless you!" These were the last words he spoke to her and from that hour, many a long day

:

intervened before Lady Eda and Pierce More met again.

CHAPTER VII.

THE abrupt and perhaps unexpected termination of this period in our narrative, may possibly be a source of such irritation to the class of critics distinguished by the denomination of Malevoli,' that we feel bound to interrupt its progress and pause to make a short deprecatory digression, lest the untimely wrath of these descendants of "Momus and Etcætera the Younger," destroy their own appetite for what is hereafter to follow. To dismiss for ever from the stage of action the all-important

personage of the heroine while one half of the tragedy yet remained to be performed, would be a solecism so contrary to received opinion, that the "second price" would visit their resentment of it upon the manager's or author's head, by totally absenting themselves from the theatre.

If we have been at all successful in painting the portrait of our heroine, such as she really was, to our eyes a very interesting creature, the more gratuitously-unkind must appear the act by which she is removed from our presence. Yet we have no alternative. Of all the qualifications of a historian, veracity is universally admitted to be the most essential. If the young gentleman whose private history we have taken upon ourselves to transmit to posterity, did happen to meet with a charming creature," we, as historians, are as little responsible for this incident, as for the other which befel him

to part without a prospect of meeting her again.