A NOVEL.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON:

THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER,
72, MORTIMER ST., CAVENDISH SQ.

LADY GRANARD'S NIECES.

CHAPTER I.

It was a low, sweet song; straight to the heart
The musical tones so softly uttered went,
And dwelt in ling'ring softness there. Anon,
That young voice falter'd-what had marr'd its
strain?

Oh! there were thoughts which throbbed beneath

that brow

To wild excess of agony !

MANUSCRIPT.

MANY, many were the hours in which Elfine mourned the departure of her cousin, and a sense of loneliness, a spirit of repining crept

over her which she could not repel, though Lady Granard, who noticed it, took every method to divert her from its indulgence. In some measure too she succeeded; Elfine at times shone forth with her usual brilliancy of thought, feeling, and action, but these fits of gaiety were never of long continuance, and were generally followed by an abstraction of mind, that plainly indicated there was some secret sorrow of the heart, which forbade their unvaried duration. Poor Elfine! it was not alone the separation from Ada that had quenched her joyous spirit, though that, indeed, she felt deeply; there was yet a bitterer grief at heart. Until the present time she knew not the true extent of her love for Charles Lennox; she had never questioned its existence, or in her career of thoughtless coquetry once turned back to examine her heart; and now, when betrayed into a faulty extreme by that passion, (for it was not less than a passion in the bosom of Elfine) she

found there was another springing into life, deeper, stronger than the former one-the passion of love! Yes, Elfine Harolde loved truly, deeply; and at the ball the words of Charles had awakened her to a full consciousness of the same; but until the circumstance of the miniature that knowledge was gall and bitterness to her. A moment's joy was then gained for she saw that he loved her; but soon, however, it was followed by the misery of seeing the determined coolness he evinced towards her the contemptuous glance she sometimes met when she happened to catch his eye, and again sorrow stole over her heart, surely and stealthily, blighting unto nought each young hope that ere while lived for happiness. In vain did she strive to attain a forgetfulness of her present uneasiness, by having recourse to those occupations which she used to love, her thoughts still flowed in their accustomed channel, and sick at heart, she relinquished with a sigh the song and the dance,