"I am not disappointed," he said to me shortly after the marriage, "for I can hardly be said to feel disappointment where hope never existed. Nevertheless, I do feel that I have lost the one vision of pleasure which I have loved and doated on; the one faint idea of happiness to which I have clung so fondly and so despairingly. The wave of my destiny was rough, but there was one beautiful bark riding over its surface; —the wilderness I had to traverse was long and dreary, but one tender flower was blooming by the way-side;-the night in which I wandered was dark, but one lovely dream almost made that darkness dear to me!-and now!-that bark is wrecked!-that flower is faded!that dream hath vanished! I know that all things are ordered rightly; but the religion which forbids us to repine, does not also forbid us to weep!"

This bitter sense of utter hopelessness did not however prevent him from performing those duties which he owed to himself, to his friends, and to his Maker. He applied himself with increasing assiduity to the Law, the profession which his parents had chosen for him; and, by constant employment, endeavoured, if not to banish affection, at least to smother remembrance. In the few hours which he gave to relaxation, he fled from the solitude which nourished his sadness, to the haunts of gaiety and amusement. His conversation was again enlivened by anecdote; his manners resumed their former suavity; and many who were entertained by his talents, or flattered by his attention, perceived not the blow which he had received, and the dejection which he could not shake off. But there was a settled melancholy on his features, which to me spoke volumes. It was observable too, that his future prospects, which he had in happier days dwelt upon with pride and enthusiasm, were now seldom mentioned by him, and when mentioned, were alluded to in a reckless manner, which seemed to express, "the days I have on this earth are few! why

should I take care for the morrow?" His efforts were undiminished, and his resignation was undisturbed; but his efforts were without ambition, and his resignation was without hope!

Suddenly the public attention was roused by a separation between Lord Ruthven and his Lady. Few things could have produced a greater surprise in the fashionable world. They had been always looked upon as models of conjugal attachment; nothing had ever appeared to throw the slightest gloom over their happiness. The manners of Lord Ruthven had been since his marriage unchanged;-or, if any alteration had taken place, they were rather more courteous than before. The liveliness of Mary Fitzroy was not diminished in Lady Ruthven. Now, however, that a separation had taken place, a hundred little circumstances, trifling in themselves, but interesting when considered in relation with the event which followed, were recounted. It was recollected that when Lady Ruthven dropped her fan, her husband looked down, but made no offer to stoop for it, and that Lady Ruthven blushed as it was presented to her by a stranger. It was remarked, that although at evening parties, and in places of public amusement, Lady Ruthven was always seen leaning on her husband's arm, a casual visitor had seldom found them seated in privacy together. One gentleman remembered to have called one morning when Lord Ruthven's manner was unusually repulsive, and the spirits of his Lady unusually depressed. She was pale and feverish, and upon his remarking that she appeared unwell, Lord Ruthven frowned at the observation, and the Lady trembled, as she turned the conversation to another subject. Such circumstances as these afforded topics of discussion to the high circles; but all endeavours to discover the immediate cause of their separation were fruitless; the mystery was inexplicable.

No clue was to be derived from the behaviour of either

of the parties. The cold austerity of Lord Ruthven's demeanour did not invite question, and the heart of Lady Ruthven suffered, but her lips never complained. Neither by word nor action did she betray that she thought herself wronged, or oppressed. By her husband's friends she was darkly accused of petulance, of affectation, of coquetry: such insinuations as these she bore patiently, and weightier charges even they did not dare to circulate. It was an interesting sight to look upon a beautiful wo'man, who had now just attained that age at which other females mingle in the world and its dissipations with hourly-increasing relish, relinquishing without a sigh the publicity to which her rank and talents were entitled; burying the fascination of her loveliness and her wrongs in unpresuming seclusion; and finally, suffering the breath of reproach to taint her own fame, instead of attempting a defence which might have injured the character of her husband. Under such circumstances the frivolous would enjoy the commiseration their misfortunes would excite, and the revengeful would endeavour to interest their hearers by narratives of domestic grievances, dictated by an animosity alike unjustifiable and disgusting. Lady Ruthven went not to these sources for relief in her affliction: she had a consolation and a support of which none but the religious can be sensible.

She became an inmate of the house of her sister Mrs. Mervyn, whose affection did all that care and attention could do, for the revival of her spirits. She seemed to be in good health, and joined without reluctance the little parties of intimate friends which were occasionally assembled at the house; but Dr. Mervyn soon perceived that she concealed in her heart a disease which no medicine could alleviate-no assiduity overcome. Its advances were slow-but certain !

I was present with poor Edward at one of these little coteries. It would have been prudence in him to have declined an invitation which prepared for him so severe

a shock, but he was bent upon seeing her once more, "and after that," he said, "I shall" he did not conclude the sentence, but his look spoke all that he meant to express-" I shall die happy." His unfortunate attachment had hitherto been a secret between him and me: he promised me that no one should divine it from his behaviour that evening, and he kept his word.

Although we arrived early, the greater part of the company were there before us. Lady Ruthven was sitting with her sister; and her child, a beautiful girl, which already began to remind us of her mother's infancy, was playing at her knee. Lady Ruthven seemed pale and fatigued; but there was nothing in her features or behaviour which showed a consciousness that she was the object of general attention. A person unacquainted with her history would have observed in her nothing remarkable, but ill health without peevishness, and loveliness without affectation. Many of the present party came, eager with curiosity or envy, to scrutinize every look and criticize every action of a lady whose life had excited so much interest. But she disarmed these inquisi tive tempers by the ease of her demeanour, in which there was nothing unusual, nothing constrained; and she diverted from herself our attention, by the perfect carelessness which she evinced to it. The conversation at first turned upon general subjects, and Lady Ruthven bore her part in it, not perhaps with the liveliness which was hers in better days, but still without any very apparent depression. But I observed that her sister studiously avoided an allusion to any topic which might have recalled to her mind her former sufferings; and if any such allusion was made, the conversation was carefully, though almost imperceptibly, directed into another channel. Mrs. Mervyn, however, was by some untoward accident called away for a few minutes; and a circumstance then took place which immediately destroyed the success which her affectionate caution had hitherto obtained.

An old gentleman, who by some strange fatality had just returned from abroad, totally unacquainted with Lady Ruthven's history, had been surprised at the silence which had been assiduously observed upon the subject of Lord Ruthven, and not aware of any uneasiness which could be produced by the words, he said, "I have not seen you, Lady Ruthven, since your wedding-day! It seems to me only yesterday;-and yet I think two years have elapsed!"--Her cheek grew rather paler as she bowed assent. He continued unknowingly to wound her feelings: "I do not see Lord Ruthven in the company! I hope he is well !" "I believe Frederick," she began, but that familiar name recalled too forcibly the recollection of other days. She stopped, and blushed deeply. Immediately recovering herself, and observing the inquisitive glances which were thrown upon her, she continued with greater composure, "I believe Lord Ruthven is in Paris!" Morton's brow was flushed, but he said nothing; the gentleman perceived that he had done wrong, and was silent.

In the course of the evening some of the young people proposed dancing. Lady Ruthven was asked to join them. "I was once very fond of dancing," she said, "but I now prefer looking on!---besides," she added, "I am a married woman!" and, in the beautiful smile with which she spoke, you might almost read the happiness of a bride; but it vanished immediately. However, when she found that one was wanting to complete the set, she joined the dancers, and went through the quadrille with elegance, if not with animation.

Various subjects were afterwards discussed, and the lady again conversed freely,-I had almost said cheerfully. The glow which her face retained from dancing gave her an appearance of health; and I heard Mrs. Mervyn remark to a friend, that she had not seen her sister so well since her marriage. Her husband whispered to me, that appearances were not to be relied upon. At