alternately flushed to her face, and then left it of a marbly whiteness.d29-19791 maj i

Happiness with another!" exclaimed Reuben passionately oh! never, never, never! Good Heavens! to what do you allude? I have not ever bestowed a thought of love upon any woman that breathes except yourself; from the first moment I beheld you, you have been the only idol of my soul, the undivided object of my hope. You were my first love, and you must be my last. It may be presumption, folly, madness to say so; but I speak under 3 deep and solemn conviction when I declare, that nothing upon earth, not even your rejection and contempt, can ever eradicate a passion which clings to every fibre of my heart.”

"Oh speak not of contempt, Mr. Apsley,” cried Helen;" you will ever be entitled to my respect, my esteem, my-friendship; but I will be candid, for our mutual peace of mind requires it. I speak not from the impulse of the moment; my mind is unalterably decided; circumstances which I cannot detail, but which

are of imperative influence, compel me to state that I can never-never be yours."

These last few words were uttered in a low and solemn whisper, her attitude remaining unaltered, and her eyes still continuing fixed upon the ground: but not receiving any answer for a few seconds, she ventured to look up; when she observed that Reuben was trembling violently through his whole frame, his lips quivering as he made ineffectual efforts to speak, and his face of a ghastly paleness. At this spectacle, all her resolution and firmness became necessary to prevent the tide of tenderness from overwhelming her heart. Shutting her eyes with a shuddering emotion, she exclaimed in an agitated voice, "For God's sake, Mr. Apsley, compose yourself!-you distress, you alarm

me."

"Oh, no, no, no!" cried Reuben, apparently not hearing her, and striking his hand violently against his forehead; "it can never be; it was arrogance, phrenzy to dream of it: but do not hate-do not despise me, Miss Trevanian: have

c 5

compassion on me;"-his voice softened and trembled, as he added, "for indeed, indeed I am humbled to the dust,-wretched-hopeless, and, I trust, broken-hearted."

you,

"You are cutting me to the quick," exclaimed Helen, "by this despairing language: if you wish to spare my feelings, I beseech Sir, to put some restraint upon your own. Believe me, I have a painful duty to perform: my heart is already too full, too much distressed, to bear the aggravation of your reproaches."

She turned aside, to hide a tear that had

escaped from her eye in spite of all her efforts to restrain it; and not daring to trust herself with a sight of the effect it might produce upon Reuben, should he by chance have discovered it, she walked rapidly from the room, to her own apartment, threw herself upon her bed, and wept for some time without intermis

sion.

hurried

No woman can refuse the man of her heart, and remain for a moment deceived as to the real state of her affections. The pang is too acute, the struggle too dreadful, to allow of self-delu

sion. The whole truth was now revealed to Helen beyond the shadow of a doubt. She loved Reuben-she loved the man to whom Adeline had previously given her heart! Her fainting at the ball she could now attribute to its right cause; others would not fail to assign it to the same source: the pride with which she had flattered herself that a strong mind might repel and defy love at pleasure, was now proved to have been as false as it was arrogant; she had forfeited her own esteem, she stood exposed in the eyes of others, and she gave way to an agony of grief and humiliating self-reproach.

This first ebullition of a spirit, wounded at once in its honest pride and its tenderest feelings, was passionate and painful; but her mind was too penetrating to allow her to be permanently unjust, even in judging herself. After a short time she reflected that the error of her heart was at least an unconscious one, had been confined to her own bosom, and had in no respect influenced her actions.

She was just recovering some little degree of complacency under the influence of this review

of her conduct, when Lady Trevanian entered the apartment, and having long observed a change in Helen's spirits, while she was struck by the marks of present agitation in her face, she sate down beside her, and began to make inquiries as to the cause. Helen's mental wound was not only too fresh and sensitive to allow of its being so immediately probed, but there had long existed, between her mother, and herself, a

tacit

cit understanding upon certain points of a most peculiar and painful delicacy. After her return from her uncle's, many minute circumstances, which would have escaped the observation of anything but conscious guilt, convinced her Ladyship that her daughter had been made fully acquainted with her intrigues and transgressions. She found herself, therefore, not infrequently in the most humiliating of all situations—that of a mother who stands rebuked and humbled in the presence of her own child; and when the public prints, or the scandal of visitors, turned the subject upon conjugal infidelity, Helen invariably quitted the room, to

spare her mother, as much as possible, the dis