doubt not but Lord Mowbray will be himself again."

"Never!" exclaimed her sister, with unwonted energy. "My pride revolts at the bare idea; and although my attachment to Lord Mowbray is of that deep and enduring nature, which I never can feel for another individual, yet nothing shall induce me to make the slightest advance towards one who would now, perhaps, repel rather than return it. Yes, Louisa, my pride revolts"

"Pride, Emily!-is this your incentive to action ?"

"Not pride altogether;-delicacy, too, opposes the slightest advance on my part."

"But I merely wish you no longer to encourage the attentions of Sir Richard Mordaunt ; you have long been acquainted with Charles's sentiments on this subject; and hitherto you were not wont to act in opposition to his wishes."

"Oh, mention Sir Richard Mordaunt no more; his very name is revolting to me; and to-morrow," she added, now carried away by the ardour

of her feelings to a contrary extreme of error ; "to-morrow I shall give particular directions never again to have him admitted."

"Nay, now, you are better than good," rejoined Louisa; "however, I shall not longer detain you by discussing the propriety of adopting such a summary mode of treatment, as the sudden exclusion of one towards whom but yesterday you evinced such decided preference."

Her sister smiled whilst concluding this sentence; and a silence of some moments ensuing, in which Emily seemed buried in reflection, she at length said

"This night I feel so powerfully oppressed by an indefinable sense of I know not what, mingled with fearful anticipations of some dark tale about to be revealed, in which my fate is deeply involved, that I find it impossible to divest myself of boding thoughts."

Her

And her pale cheek and languid air too faithfully attested the truth of her statement. sister, however, endeavouring to laugh off her fears, kissed her playfully-assuring her that she should begin to suspect her of playing the

heroine, and actually becoming romantic, if the morning sun failed to disperse the cloud which seemed to hang over her. But, alas! what a morning for poor Emily!

CHAPTER VII.

"Farewell! a word that must be and hath been

A sound which makes us linger-yet-farewell!"

BYRON.

WHEN all were assembled at breakfast, the gloom which had pervaded the party the night previously appeared rather to have increased than diminished; unbroken silence prevailing, as if by mutual consent, amongst the juniors of the party;—and the first words spoken were uttered by Lady Ravensdale, who, addressing Lord Mowbray, proposed his accompanying her in a morning drive, to call upon an acquaintance, at some distance.

But he seemed as though he heard her not ;and on Lady Ravensdale repeating her proposal, started from a reverie, as he falteringly replied"Most willingly should I accede to your proposal; but, I grieve to say, that circumstances over which I can have no control, urge my imme

diate departure from Ravensdale. This day, my beloved friends," he added, "I must bid farewell to the spot, which shall ever be associated with the happiest moments of my life, and to those friends of my bosom, whose welfare I value far more than my own existence."

This intelligence, uttered by Lord Mowbray in broken accents, produced an effect on his auditors, closely resembling an electric shock.

"This day!" at length ejaculated Lady Ravensdale.

"This day, Mowbray !" said Charles; "surely you are not-you cannot be serious."

And at once all eagerly opposed his determination-all save her alone to whom at this moment utterance was denied. The sudden announcement of Lord Mowbray's intention had, in fact, a stupifying influence on the few remaining faculties which Emily on that day was mistress of; for a moment the painful shock had caused her cheek to flush deeply with distressing emotion ;—then the capricious blood, which had mantled high, abruptly retreating, left it wan and colourless-or, at best, of that unearthly hue, not unfrequently ascribed