and under circumstances of peculiar temptation, I was again thrown in the way of Captain Lindsay. He still loved me--he was still the sole possessor of my heart. My virtue, unsupported by principle, and guarded only by pride, yielded to my passions. You, Caroline, were the fruit of our intercourse, which never was suspected.'

Lady St. Clair paused for a few moments, then continued-Caroline, I require of you no promise of secrecy. My life-and far more than my lifemy honour, is in your hands. Only remember this --and remember also, that my determination is not to be shaken ;-I never will survive the discovery of my guilt. That moment in which it is made known to Mr. Lindsay, or to any other human being, shall be the last of my life!"

Caroline shuddered. 'No' she replied, 'no carthly consideration shall ever induce me to divulge it.'

And thus this dreadful interview terminated. Caroline flew to her room and locked the door, to give vent undisturbed to the agony of her heart.

CHAPTER LIII.

RESIGNATION.

Rebus angustis animosus, atque

Hor. Lib. 11. Od. X.

Fortis appare.

Patience and sorrow strove

Which should express her goodliest. You have seen
Sunshine and rain at once; their smiles and tears
Were like an April day.

SHAKSPEARE.

NATURE forced her way, and some hours passed before Caroline could so far command the flood of anguish which at first overwhelmed her heart, as to be able to maintain outward calmness. Her strong powers of mind, and native fortitude alone, would have been insufficient to have sustained her in this dreadful trial, when every earthly stay and hope of happiness were, in one moment, torn away from her for ever; had not the perfect resignation of her soul to the will of God, the uncomplaining submission with which she bowed to his decrees, and the blessed consolations which his spirit poured into her heart, fortified her to bear that tremendous stroke, which, in the moment of secure and unalloyed felicity, crushed her heart, and made the long prospect of forlorn existence, a dreary and cheerless blank. No hope was left.-O how welcome, in that moment of deep despair, would have been the refuge of the tomb! But that refuge she

was not permitted to seek. The long, lingering torture of life was to be endured; years of sorrow and suffering presented their dreary vista before her sickening heart. In the spring of youth her doom was sealed. The light of heaven, the fair face of nature, the refinements and enjoyments of polished life, the pursuits once so dear to her, the delights of knowledge, taste, and science, the intercourse of mankind-all, all, were now tasteless and hateful to her soul. Even the friends she loved scarcely seemed any longer to possess any interest in her affections. Her heart seemed withered--her affections blighted. Consciousness of innocence alone supported her. The unsubdued spirit within, recoiling from its earthly bondage, raised its aspirations to that world where sin and sorrow are unknown, and bade her hopes, though foiled on earth, take rest in heaven. Bitter, bitter indeed, was the burden of life-But I will seek to bear it, for it is the will of God!' cried Caroline, as with clasped hands and supplicating eyes she implored the support of heaven. I will fulfil my appointed course; I bow to his divine dispensations. His will be done!'

She passed many hours in solitude, for Mrs. Cleveland, having tapped at the door of her room, and received no answer, supposed that she had lain down to sleep-exhausted with sitting up the night before with her mother, and she had given orders that she should not be disturbed.

It was in the dusk of evening that Caroline arose from the bed in which, in the first agony of sorrow, she had thrown herself; and having arranged her hair, and obliterated, as far as it was possible, the traces of emotion from her countenance, she rang her bell, and learnt that Lady St. 17*

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Clair was better, and had taken a slight repast in her own room, and that Mr. Lindsay was below, and had been constantly enquiring after her the whole day.

Caroline shrunk in agony from the idea of meeting him. Alas! her grief was not for herself alone. The happiness of another was wrecked with hers. She was doomed to break those vows which united them by every sacred bond of love and faith in the eye of heaven; and without assigning any reason,

with seeming caprice, wantonly to overwhelm the heart which loved her, with misery. She knew how dreadful would be the agony that Lindsay would suffer, and the thought of it almost overcame her fortitude. She was utterly unable to communicate to him herself, the heart-rending sentence that they must part for ever; but, anxious to break it gradually to him, she determined to employ Mrs. Cleveland, to prepare him by degrees for the worst.

She therefore sent for her, and with wonderful calmness begged her to tell him that she was too much exhausted to go down stairs, or to see him; and also to acquaint him that Lady St. Clair had positively interdicted their marriage, and never would consent to it. Mrs. Cleveland could scarcely credit her senses. Lady St. Clair, she was firmly convinced, must be mad;-and when Caroline seriously declared her unalterable resolution to abide by her mother's command, and to break off the match-she began to think that Caroline must be mad also. Finding, however, from the dreadful struggle it cost Caroline to speak upon the subject, and the silent agony written on her countenance, that she was fit for nothing but repose that night -and having no doubt that she would think dif

ferently of the matter in the morning,-she left her, after having been obliged by Caroline's importunities, reluctantly to promise that she would inform Lindsay of Lady St. Clair's refusal to consent to their union; and this promise she performed.

Miserable-Lindsay thought-as man could be -though little dreading what was ultimately to be his doom-he at last left the house, finding all his importunity vain to induce her to see him.

When he returned next morning, unspeakable was his mortification, to find himself still excluded from Caroline's presence; and his indignation against Lady St. Clair's tyranny, knew no bounds. He requested to see her Ladyship, and after some consideration, she determined to grant him this interview, which she felt could not be avoided.

The cold hauteur with which Lady St. Clair avowed her unalterable resolution never to consent to her daughter's marriage with him, and her steady refusal to assign any cause of objection to it, exasperated Lindsay beyond measure. She did not indeed hesitate, by way of blinding him, and preventing the possibility of his entertaining any suspicion of the truth, to drop an artful insinuation that she had other views for Caroline,-which incensed Lindsay still more; and he did not scruple to tell her that her views would be disappointed, for that he was certain Caroline would not marry another; and that he should leave no means untried to induce her (whom he considered already his wife in the eye of heaven), to marry him without her mother's consent-since she could assign no reason whatever for withholding it.

You will attempt it in vain!' said Lady St. Clair, in an unmoved tone. 'Caroline is deter