try, bearing with me the full treasure of my happiness in the confidence of being loved. Her image never left me. It forsook me not on sea or on land, in the tent, in the siege, or on the battlefield. She was the subject of my prayers, and of my dreams of all thoughts-all passions-all hopes which moved my being.

"In a moment I became the creature you now behold me. The struggle between life and death was a long one; but in pain and suffering her image was still with me, and I recovered.

"Then I released her from her promise. For worlds, I would not have bound her to a creature like myself. I received a cold answer to my letter; I saw her, on my arrival in London, happy, and careless of my fate, and, in less than two

months, she was married to another.

"Tell me not to banish her from

were but a waste of words to do so.

my heart. It

Believe me,

I have striven strongly, fearfully, and vainly, and I know it cannot be."

At first, when I had done speaking, Laura bent her head forwards to the table, and, pressing it with her hands, remained in that posture for about a minute; then, as if suddenly acquiring strength to

command her emotion, she once more turned her face towards me, and it was calm :-I say calm,for, although deep pity and interest were never more legibly expressed, her countenance retained no trace of more violent emotion.

66

Cyril," she said, "yours is indeed a melancholy tale. I know--at least, I think I knowyour character, and can imagine through what suf ferings you have passed. I would comfort you, Cyril, but what have I to offer but tears? You see they are yours," pointing at the same time to my hand, already moistened with them,—“ take them, they are my all."

"Yes, Laura, I receive them, and, believe me, with a grateful heart," raising at the same time my hand to my lips, and kissing away the drops that lay on it. "Earth can now afford nothing more precious than these tears. The wounds for which they afford no balm are indeed incurable.".

Though I cannot comfort you," she resumed, "I would yet entreat you, by all you hold dear on earth,—and surely, Cyril, there is still much to which your heart grapples,-not to yield your self to despondency. You have been, and are,

perhaps, yet destined to be tossed on a stormy sea. To your eye no haven may be near,-no ray of hope may shine in the surrounding darkness;—but you are alike called on by reason and religion, to buffet with the waters to the last, and, at least, not to sink a supine and willing victim in the abyss.

"Let your trust be in that God who raised the tempest, and can again calm it. Cast yourself on Him, with a full reliance on His mercy, and He will not forsake you in the struggle."

I was silent, and she proceeded.

"I am a bad preacher, Cyril, and I fear I weary you. I have touched on a subject, perhaps too sacred to be even alluded to by one like me. Pardon me, for I have indeed spoken in the fulness of my heart."

Most beautiful and benign was the expression of her countenance at that moment. Never had her eye gleamed more brightly;-never had the music of her sweet voice fallen so meltingly on my ear. But the tears, which, as she spoke, had ceased to flow, again fell fast, and bending down her forehead, she covered it with her hands.

"Do not think, Laura," and I took her unresisting hand as I spoke; "do not think, Laura, though

my heart be not now fitted to receive them, that your words have fallen on a cold and an ungrateful soil. They have been treasured here they may long lie dormant, but they shall not die; and it may happen that, like bread cast upon the waters, their consolation may be found after many days. Forgive me, Laura, for the pain which it is too evident I have occasioned you. There is no other being on earth to whom I could have disclosed the secret that preys on me. It concerns not me alone, but with you it is safe.”

She answered only by a look, that spoke plainly as words, "can you doubt it?"

Much did we talk of on that morning; and the voice of her sweet soothing was not without its influence on my irritable spirits. She spoke comfort to me, and I was comforted, for I knew that she shared my sorrows; and as we parted the thought stole, almost unconsciously, into my heart, that if, in my brighter days, I had loved Laura Willoughby, happiness might yet have been mine.

CHAPTER XI.

Though hills were set on hills,

And seas met seas to guard thee, I would through;
I'd plough up rocks steep as the Alps in dust,
And lave the Tyrrhene waters into clouds,
But I would reach thy head.

Nor sleep nor sanctuary,

BEN JONSON.

Being naked, sick; nor fane, nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom, 'gainst

My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it
At home upon my brother's guard, even there,
Against the hospitable canon, would I

Wash my fierce hand in his heart.

Coriolanus.

On the morning following this conversation, the post brought me two letters. The first I opened was from my uncle. I had written to him since my return; but as it was probable we might never meet again, I had not thought it necessary to inflict on him the pain of learning the nature and consequences of my wounds