think not. Does your mind never entertain the idea that some circumstance un known 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 controh 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

tion. Oh! do not stain so fair a name, even with levity; if not for your own sake, for the sake of those who make it their example.

"I will adduce no more arguments, though perhaps I might offer many on the score of Mr. Melville's family, and the connexions they have wished to form for him in his own country, for I must tell you that his situation is much the same in regard to an English lady, that your husband's was in early life towards you. I will leave it to your own heart to decide; but it is my firm opinion that, till Charles can look upon you with different feelings, you ought not to meet again→→→ you ought not, in pity to him, in justice to yourself, and in duty to your husband, "Believe me, madam, with every feeling of sincere respect,

"Your obedient servant,

"F. WILMOT."

The

The next morning a servant from the hotel of the baroness brought an answer to Mr. Wilmot's letter, and a note addressed to Mr. Melville. Charles tore it open hastily, and glanced his eye from line to line with all the ardour of youthful expectation.

"What does she say, Charles ?" said Mr. "What does she wish you to

Wilmot

do?"

"She says," replied Charles, reading• Before I knew you, my heart had been given to another, and on examining my own feelings, I find that my affection still remains with one who I believe little de

serves it; and she adds- Fly from me

forget me; but no-let me hear of your happiness when you can think of me as a sister."

Charles Melville's feelings were of a very mixed nature; he felt glad that his difficulty was at an end; but a deep shade of regret would come over him, when he thought that he had beheld the beautiful,

the

the fascinating Adelaide for the last time; there was something too of mortified pride mingled with his disappointment; but mortified pride is sometimes a very serviceable agent, and in the present instance, it made Charles struggle hard against sensations he might otherwise have indulged.

"Well, Charles,” said Mr. Wilmot, after his companion had walked up and down the room in silence for some moments, "what do you intend to do?"

66

"I think," replied Mr. Melville, "that we had better leave this place as soon as possible-to-morrow, if it can be done.” "Oh, it can be done certainly," replied Wilmot; "but there is a great deal you have not seen in Paris."

66

"I have seen quite enough of it," answered Charles hastily, "too much I believe. But you have not read your letter, Wilmot."

"I had forgot," rejoined his companion. "Her letter to you decides it; what she

says.

says to me can be of but little import." He opened it however, and read

"Rue de Castiglione, 15th Feb. 1821. "I have been wrong-very

wrong; your letter, sir, has awakened me to a sense of my own weakness, and also to a knowledge of my own feelings. Oh, Mr. Wilmot! you, who seem so well to know my history, must also know how I loved the baron de S; and if you could have seen my very inmost thoughts, you could not have spoken more directly to my heart, than by asking if I never entertained the idea that some circumstance, unknown to me, has made my husband act as he has done, without losing the affection he bore to me from his earliest youth?' It is too true, notwithstanding all his unkindness, my heart still turns towards him.

"How can I thank you? You have saved me from the brink of ruin. The

heedlessness