He turned upon his heel to depart.

"Sir," said Lord William, "for of your name, I am still ignorant-"

"Lovel, Sir."

"Mr. Lovel, you have spoken well,—and convinced me, I believe, that I had better close my romance here, and proceed to the commonplaces of these affairs. I will return to the inn below; and consider my determination before I declare it. If you have anything further to say, I shall hear from you there.-Good morning, Sir !”

And, with an air of haughty carelessness, he proceeded down the path; and quitted the wood. Charles sat down exhausted, to relieve his heart, by one burst of grief uncontrollable; by one torrent of passionate, manly tears. He then re-entered the house.

Resolved that Lord William should by no possibility again encounter with Louisa, without the sanction of her father-Charles was sitting,

the next morning, before six o'clock, at his studies in the parlour. He never throughout that day lost sight of Louisa. If she walked, he was at her side; if she sat, he was busy at his books. She looked surprised, impatient, restless-but asked no explanation. An air of sweet serenity was in her eyes, which died as the day declined, and was succeeded by the most pathetic expression of disappointment.

What Charles felt through that long day may not easily be imagined; but the anguish and the effort cost him so much, that it was difficult for him to walk up the stairs at night.

Unhappy Charles! to whom the smiles and the tears of the being he so fondly loved, were alike the food for anguish and despair.

CHAPTER X.

THE next morning brought a letter for Mr. Evelyn-a proposal in form from Lord William Melville for Miss Evelyn-and a humble request to be allowed to visit her, and to present himself to her father.

Here was a change!-Such as the fleeting pictures of the drama furnish-But not alone— real life teems with these sudden alternations, these rapid, overwhelming changes; from misery to ecstasy-from rapture to despair.

Those mighty ministers of destiny- Death and Love-equal in force-almost equal in ter

ror, change, with their powerful hands, in some few short hours, the whole scene of human circumstance—the whole character of human story -far more effectually than the mimic shifter on the boards.

Mr. Evelyn, who had so long cherished in secret an excessive pride in his lovely daughter, was raised at once, from the anxiety which anticipation of her future destiny habitually occasioned, to a state of unchastened exultationan exulation which might appear strange in one schooled by the trials of many years, were it not true, that we learn little from any experience but our own. His had lain through life, almost exclusively among those evils, which narrow circumstances occasion to refined and ambitious characters,—and he thought little of any other. Of darker and deeper trials he had known few, and in this case anticipated none.

Mary was confounded, surprised, pleased, and

grieved at once. The brilliant success of Louisa gratified this fond and affectionate sister, almost as much as if it had befallen a beloved child of her own; but the pleasure was clouded by an undefined, uncomfortable feeling, that her relation with this dear friend would be changed; not merely that she must necessarily see her less, but that she must see her differently—she could but indistinctly picture how, but she felt that different it would be.

Then, a man of Lord William's high rank carried with him something most awful to her imagination. The daughters of Mr. Evelyn had been brought up with that too undistinguishing respect for what was noble-that reverence for rank in itself, which formed the only vulgar trait in his own character; and which, certainly, a life passed in a country town, such as was Mary's, was not calculated to correct.

She could not with any comfort fancy so