detailed to Mr. Wilmot his feelings upon the occasion, as far as he could without trenching on what he owed to the baroness.

Mr. Wilmot fixed his eye keenly upon

him as he proceeded, and as the varying colour of Charles's cheek, and quicklychanging expression of countenance, added much to his tale, he seemed to read every circumstance in the very bottom of his heart; and when Mr. Melville had concluded, he started suddenly from his seat, and, for a moment, walked rapidly backwards and forwards in deep thought.

66

Charles," said he at length, "by asking my advice, you imply that neither of you are as yet criminal. My advice is that you quit Paris immediately. You start, But are you a Christian?-are you a man of honour? for on either principle you should do as you would be done by and with regard to the baroness, will you trust your honour in my hands ?-It is as safe as in your own: I will compromise you in nothing; but first let me tell you, I know

every circumstance of her history better than you do better perhaps than she does herself. Now then, Charles, tell me, will you trust to me?"

"I will,” replied Charles firmly. “But what do you intend to do?"

"To write to her," answered Mr. Wilmot; " and I am sure that she herself will desire you to leave her."

Charles paused a moment-“ Well,” said he at length, "do as you think fit; but I am sure, Wilmot, you will not hurt her delicacy. Remember all I have told you all I can tell you is, that I love her."

Mr. Wilmot smiled-" After a fashion," answered he, sitting down to write. "But do not fear," he continued; "I know no. thing but what you have told me, and your loving her casts no shadow upon her

character."

Mr. Wilmot wrote, sealed the letter, and dispatched it without shewing it to Mr. Melville; but readers are allowed to

be

be in all secrets, and therefore its contents may be fairly laid before them.

66

"Rue de la Paix, 14th Feb. 1821. MADAM,

"You will be surprised, no doubt, that a stranger should address you, and still more so when you are aware of the subject on which he does it. In undertaking a difficult and unpleasant task, I have but one consolation-in knowing it to be my duty, and but one reliance on the goodness of your heart. I am as unlikely to flatter you, as you are to wish that I should; but I am willing to conciliate your good will, by expressing my real opinion of your character, and am inclined to shew how much confidence I place in its rectitude, by leaving an important point entirely to your decision.

"In the first place then, let me inform you that I am perfectly well acquainted with your history, from authority beyond

dispute.

dispute. I will not dwell upon what you owe to your husband, however unkind his conduct may have been to you-I will not dwell upon what you owe to yourself, however you may have been mortified by his neglect, for I feel confident your own sense of honour will speak more strongly than any language I could use. Yes, madam, unprotected as you are, in the centre of fascination and seduction, without any one to guide you, in the very metropolis of vice and immorality, flattered, courted, and assailed, I do not doubt you.

"But what I will ask you is, can you reconcile it to yourself to see an ardent, inexperienced young man-in a word, Charles Melville, daily becoming more and more attached to you, when you cannot, when you dare not, when you ought not, to return his affection? I say you cannot! for ask yourself calmly-is your heart so free, are all those feelings so totally annihilated, which you once entertained towards the baron de S? Madam, I

think not. Does your mind never entertain the idea that some circumstance unknown to you may have made your husband act as he has done, without ever losing the affection he bore to you from his earliest youth? I know not whether Mr. Melville has informed you of his attachment; all I know is, that he is attached to you, and that he intends to spend tomorrow evening at your hotel. I cannot pretend to control him; but might I offer my advice to you, you would decline his visit, inasmuch as every time he sees you, serves to confirm a passion that I have no doubt may yet be crushed. This for his sake. For yours, inasmuch as your reputation, if not your honour, may suffer. It is yet unstained, free from reproach; you are looked up to for the steadiness with which you have hitherto walked in right; you are admired for the brilliance of your talents, and the beauty of your person; you are loved for the warmness of your heart, and the benevolence of your disposi