"Unworthy!" exclaimed Constantia, with an indignant surprise: "are you mad? she is every thing that is pure, noble, and unsullied.”—Jocelyn related the circumstance from which he drew his inference against her honour. "For shame, sir! for shame!" resumed Constantia ;

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your suspicion of such a woman is an insult which I could resent, but that I pity the feelings with which you must learn the injustice you have done her." In a few words she explained the mode of Julia's escape, and accounted most satisfactorily for her appearing in the company of Lady Castlemaine.

"Fool! idiot! that I have been !" ejaculated Jocelyn, groaning with distress of mind. "Oh that every other obstacle were removed with equal ease! Oh that she were purified from family taint and opprobrium, as effectually as she is from all personal reproach! Oh that she were the daughter of any one but Valentine Walton, the Regicide!"

"She is not the daughter of Valentine Wal

ton!" said Constantia solemnly; "and this is the discovery which I am come to communicate

to you.'

"Gracious Heaven!" exclaimed Jocelyn"who then is her father ?"

"That remains to be yet learned," replied Constantia." I have performed my mission. Mrs. Walton's own mouth must furnish what further particulars you desire to know. Hasten therefore to Pippingford Lodge, if you wish to secure Julia and your own happiness; hasten thither, if you wish to protect her from the insults of your rival."

"Insults! Rival!" cried Jocelyn fiercely: "who is the man that dares He stopped,

for Constantia had quitted the apartment, only repeating the word," hasten!" as she closed the door; an injunction which was quickly obeyed, for Jocelyn having rapidly equipped himself for travelling, threw himself upon his horse, and was galloping out of London, in a short time after she had disappeared.

Upon his arrival at the Lodge, a spot with which he was well acquainted, from its being in the immediate vicinity of Brambletye House, he stated to Mrs. Walton, whom he found alone, the particulars of his interview with Constantia, and the object of his visit, imploring her to confirm, if true, the information he had received respecting Julia's birth.

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It is a secret," she replied, "which I had intended to carry with me to the grave, for I would not unnecessarily have disturbed Julia's peace of mind by divulging it, unless by so doing I could have restored her to her real parents, whoever they may be. From the information of our dear Constantia, however, I have learnt that her happiness may be promoted by its being made known to the world, that she is not the daughter of Valentine Walton, and I therefore reveal the truth from the same motives that have hitherto led me to suppress

it.

At

the commencement of the civil wars we resided

at East Grinstead, not many miles from this

spot, happy in every thing but the want of offspring,-a blessing for which we often addressed our prayers to Heaven, but without effect. We were about to embark for the Barbadoes, where my husband possessed an estate, when on the eve of our departure we were alarmed by a cry from one of the chambers, on entering which, we found a female infant, richly dressed, lying on the bed. Considering that from the disturbed state of the country, some child of distinction, suddenly left in orphan destitution, might have been committed to our adoption, or rather, that a benignant Providence had guided it to our threshold in answer to our supplications, we thankfully received the precious gift, christened her Julia from the name of the month in which she was found, and embarked on the following morning for the West Indies. At our return we went to reside in Cambridgeshire, where a conviction of the inutility of all inquiry, and a fear of losing the chief solace of our life, prevented our giving any

publicity to the affair. My dear Julia will ever be the daughter of my heart; and she herself, I trust, has never had reason to complain of the mother who adopted her, although the misfortunes of our latter days have, as you well know, condemned her to a life of melancholy and uncongenial seclusion."

Being informed in answer to his inquiries,

that Julia was in an arbour at the bottom of the garden, Jocelyn hastened to declare the deep and indelible attachment that he had ever felt for her since the first moment of their acquaintance, although various mysteries and misconceptions had hitherto prevented the offer of the hand and heart, which he now implored her to accept.-"The mystery that involves my birth," replied Julia,“ still remains to be solved, though I am afraid there is but little chance of discovering my real parents. If, however, you will accept a poor foundling, who has nothing but her heart to offer you, she will endeavour to atone for the want of other recommendations by the constancy and fervour of her affection."