rition was startling enough in itself, but the countenance of the stranger made it still more alarming. It was thin and haggard; the lips were pressed closely together, and his eyes were wild and staring. Honoria gazed at him; she could not speak or move; it seemed to her like a dream, and he had uttered the words, "Merciful Heaven! Miss Conway, are you still here?" before she could believe it was Captain Marryatt. She tried to say something about the cause of her delay and her brother, when he fixed his eyes upon her with a look of such perfect agony as she had never seen before. It was a look which in any human being would have caused her pity; the tears rushed into her eyes-she looked down— when she raised them again he was standing by her side.

"Miss Conway," he said, "you told me once that a fellow-creature was not excluded from your compassion by being wretched-oh, tell me that you hold that faith still!"

She trembled; her lips moved, but she could not articulate.

"If you knew what an object of your pity was now before you—if you knew--”

"If any thing has happened to distress one to whom I owe so much gratitude," she said hastily,

interrupting him, "I should be very much grieved."

"Gratitude to me! O heavens!" He held a small parcel in his hand which he clenched convulsively as he spoke. "Honoria, you owe me a

curse!"

"God forbid!" she almost screamed.

"But if ever one human being owes gratitude to another, I owe it to you. O that a being destined to destruction should have enjoyed the hours of peace and joy which you have given him! It is the last time we shall ever meet, Honoria-I must thank you for them."

As he spoke he threw himself at her feet, seized her hand, and pressed it to his lips.

"Destruction!" said Honoria, shuddering,"Oh, do not speak so!"

"Yes, Miss Conway, the indentures were sealed when I was in my cradle! I am that wretch whose father taught him before he could lisp to hate the only service of which the wages are not death."

"You do not hate it now?" she said, in an earnest voice.

"The time for embracing it is gone."

"It is not!" she exclaimed,-"it never can be!"

66

Oh, Honoria! divine forgiveness is a dream

which I cannot realize. Now and then I have seen it imaged in the kindness of a fellowcreature; and then the thoughts which my mother's tears watered, came back to me, and I felt as if even I might hope. But the last of these moments is fled. Very soon the world will know that I am a guilty man, and oh, Honoria, you will know it too! and there will not be an emotion of kindness to me even in the softest, kindest heart."

He looked into her face-his own was frightfully emaciated from illness and grief. She met his gaze-her eyes filled with tears; yet she did not withdraw them for several moments. It was a long look; she had never looked so at him or any one else before.

"Is it possible?" he exclaimed; "it must be a sick man's dream!—you cannot love me! But, Honoria, if you knew how entirely, how desperately I love you !—Dearest, I will not give you a divided heart-you shall have all-all that was meant for friends, for the world, for myself!Oh, do not drive me to despair!" He grasped her hand in his. There was a moment's pause.

"This must not be," said Honoria, covering her face with her hands-"I have been very wrong-"

"I knew it," he said, "words mean nothinglooks mean nothing-there is no faith to be kept with the erring and the unworthy-but remember, Miss Conway, I was my own accuser, I did not deceive you."

"Hear me," she exclaimed, " for one momentyou have a right to condemn me-I condemn myself. In justice to you I should have concealed this weakness; and think of me as you may, sir," she added in a stronger tone, "it should have been concealed, if you had not spoken of sorrow, and wretchedness, and shame. The thought of relieving your misery, of supporting you against the opinion of the world, of leading you to higher hopes, overcame me, and I forgot—”"

"Forget still-forget for ever that you were not born an angel. You have owned-oh I feel already as if I could break out in thanksgiving to God for it-that you do not hate me—you owned, you know, that it is glorious to love the unworthy."

"Oh! this is vain sophistry," she answered; "I must not cheat myself with it. The greatest sinner in the sight of God and man has a right to love, but it must be pure, disinterested love, that only can exalt and restore him; all other only lowers our standard to that of the object we love.

I dare not do an action under pretence of its being virtuous, which my heart tells me would be selfish."

She spoke in a firm voice. Captain Marryatt made no answer, but hid his face, and sat in silence beside her. Honoria moved: he scarcely seemed to observe it. There was a sound of persons in the hall; he started, and asked with a wild shriek, whose voice that was: she said it was her brother's.

"Your brother's! oh, I cannot face him tonight," he exclaimed; "tell me how I can avoid him." She pointed to a ground window, which led into the garden. He seized her hand, kissed it vehemently, and left the room.