 the veil of futurity to unite each grace of person and of mind, and enduing her with all, every human claim upon my feelings seemed condensed, and revived in this new one. Oh, hope! sweet substitute for happiness, whose mental gildings dawn periodically upon the soul, like light upon creation, awakening and invigorating every active principle of being; recalled by this irresistible influence even from

the dark, the dreary grave, each troubled heart arises, and shaking off the heavy dews of sorrow, slowly resumes its wonted habits. The pale converts of experience no longer dare appropriate the darling object of their wishes, but meekly then receive the appointed pleasure, prepared alike either to enjoy or to resign it. As thus the maternal tye engrafted itself in my soul, I perpetually endeavoured to impress that of my dear unfortunate; friend with the same train of ideas. Alas, in vain!—Ra∣ther surprized at finding me sensible of consolation, than disposed to receive it, she gradually withdrew a confidence I did not easily miss, and delivered herself up to that cold and sullen despair, which un∣settles every principle. Intreaties and arguments soon lost all effect on her. Starting at times from an impenetrable reverie, a broken sigh would overturn all I could urge, while continued adjurations produced too often a marked disgust. Obliged at intervals to quit the cabin (lest even my present situation should fail to protect it from intruders) and listen to

the hateful addresses of her boisterous lover, often did the seat of reason appear shaken in this dear unfortunate on her return, and a vague and extravagant gaiety would suddenly give place to the deepest gloom and inanity. I saw these fluctua∣tions with horror, and dreaded the mo∣ment when a rude demand of marriage should bring her fate to a climax. Ah, not without reason did I dread it! One evening, after a conversation of this kind, I perceived her more than usually disturb∣ed. Neither my prayers, nor the pour∣ing rain could bring her from the balcony, where for hours she told her weary steps. I started at last from a momentary slum∣ber on her re-entering the cabin. The dim lamp burning in it, shewed, her with a slow, and tottering pace approaching the last asylum of Lord Leicester; sinking by this repository of her breaking heart, she clasped her hands upon her bosom with a most speaking sense of woe; while over it her fair locks fell wild and di∣shevelled, heavy with the midnight rain, and shivering to its beatings. The wet

pery of her white garments spread far over the floor, and combined to from so perfect
