wards the appointed spot; but, though they went on slowly, they proceeded so long without perceiving any thing like a red coat, that they both of them anticipated that some of the contingencies, for which the captain prepared Augusta, had actually occurred.

At last they descried two figures at a distance, walking towards them very fast; and they were soon enabled to decide upon its being Captain Harvey and his friend St. Aubyn. But although Catherine was prepared for the probability of his being so accompanied, and had in the first instance expected to be very much delighted by such a circumstance, the actual fact was very different from the imagination of it. She did not know, till they were put to the proof, how respectable and feminine her feelings were. She had been so much in contact with folly, so much in the habit of hearing of love and lovers, and so impressed by the course of her education with an idea, that to entrap and aim at the other sex was the only proper object of a woman's existence, that she did not thoroughly perceive, till this instant, (however an intuitive sense of delicacy might afford her occasional glimpses of it) how inconsistent with the modesty which really formed a feature in her character, was the situation in which she had so heedlessly placed herself.

She felt her heart throb with agitation at every step that brought them nearer. She implored Augusta to return, and not to meet them; she declared with vehemence that she would go back by herself, and she actually broke away from the grasp with which Augusta retained her arm, intending to realise this resolve; but she poured upon her such heavy accusations of treachery and ill will as she had not the

courage to endure; and shaking in every nerve, overpowered with shame and confusion, her cheeks the colour of the deepest crimson, and scarcely able to keep from crying, Catherine found herself within a few paces of St. Aubyn, and in the next instant a mutual introduction by Augusta of all parties took place.

her ease.

Captain Harvey offered his arm to Miss Belmont, and St. Aubyn very politely made the same overture to Catherine, which she for a long time declined with many an embarrassed "No, I thank you," till Augusta's loud laugh, and her own intense feeling of the awkwardness she was exhibiting, induced her to end the matter by accepting it; and his behaviour being perfectly respectful, she began to be more at It has been said that "truth is uppermost," and it certainly is; for no perfectly genuine emotion can be concealed or misinterpreted. St. Aubyn clearly understood what was passing in the heart of Catherine, and evinced, by the delicacy of his attention and discourse, how much he respected it. But his was indeed the most delicate, the most refined of minds; gentle and persuasive, tender and affectionate, adorned too with beauty at once manly and elegant, it was not without awaking a new and charming interest in the ardent affections of this impassioned girl that he could address her. The walk that for Augusta was nothing but the foolery of an hour, was to Catherine the beginning of destiny, the momentous interval in which every overwhelming passion of her soul awoke to life.

They continued their ramble; St. Aubyn and his companion every instant becoming better acquainted with the character of each other; Augusta and the VOL. I.-C

Captain had very little to learn on either side of their respective merits, beyond what their epistles had revealed. At length Catherine heard a clock strike, which reminded her that the time Mademoiselle had fixed for their return was arrived; and they retraced their steps, still accompanied by the gentlemen, who when the young ladies arrived in sight of their party, took their leave, not without proffering some intreaties for a similar indulgence another morning. The sentiments with which St. Aubyn began to inspire Catherine, were of a character too deep, too sincere, for the sort of frivolous, flirting intercourse Augusta had established with her admirer. Though St. Aubyn had only been known to her an hour, she felt as if his good opinion was almost essential to her existence; and she verily believed she could have suffered any thing rather than have incurred the hazard of forfeiting it. In defiance, therefore, of the frowns and ill suppressed anger of Augusta, she gave on her part a decided negative to any repetition of these clandestine engagements.

St. Aubyn looked a little disappointed, but it was only for an instant. He was gratified in his heart at her refusal; for Augusta being then engaged in con versation with the Captain, he took the hand of Catherine, and in a low voice, "I can scarcely say I regret your determination," said he, because I know that it is right; and because I know how much more deeply I should regret than a disappointment to myself, any thing that tended to lower my sentiments of you."

As he said this, he resigned her hand with an expression of regard more valuable to her than would have been the most enthusiastic protestations. She

left him elevated in her own estimation, for she was satisfied that she stood high in his. She left him in a state of mind for which happiness would be but a faint expression; never had she known any earthly feeling like the dawn of those young emotions. It was in vain that Augusta reproached, and almost reviled her, for her apostacy to the cause, in not consenting to repeat their present imprudence. Nothing had power to disturb her felicity: though sufficiently irritable and impetuous when assailed, she was not now to be provoked to anger; she seemed to tread on air, and to behold nothing about her but visions of beauty. The atmosphere she breathed appeared to her more soft than usual-the sun more gloriousevery human face more cheerful. She saw nothing but a world filled with every thing that was lovely and joyful; and thus an enthusiasm, which as yet was only delicious, began to usurp the dominion over her.

Oh, sweet emotions, why is the hand of fate for ever against ye! Are ye too etherial for these grosser realms ? Is it only in a brighter sphere, and nearer to the divine source from whence ye emanate, that your fruition is to be complete ?

CHAPTER III.

It is not requisite to enter into a minute detail of this period of Catherine's life. She occasionally saw St. Aubyn, but she never met him clandestinely : and her attachment would possibly have died away, if on going to spend the vacation in company with her aunt, Lady Vincent, at the house of a distant relation, she had not found him on terms of the most intimate acquaintance there. Under these circumstances their acquaintance rapidly increased; and their intercourse not being interrupted by Lady Vincent, who appeared to consider and treat Catherine as a child, it was carried on with a constancy and fervour which soon ripened on his side into a declaration of attachment, and on hers into an acceptance of it. But as attachment on the part of Catherine was not a matter of small moment, and as first impressions on an enthusiastic mind have commonly something attractive in the freshness and bloom they exhibit, it may not be uninteresting to permit her to be her own narrator in the history of her heart, by presenting to our readers a letter, written about a month after she and St. Aubyn had been inmates of the same house, to her friend Augusta ; with whom, as in duty bound, most of her emotions had been deposited, as they rose in succession in her mind, in return for the confidential despatches she received relative to her friend's affair with the Captain.

"I was very grieved, indeed, my dear Augusta,