St. Orville had held. It had proved a temporary security to him, and her grateful heart paid homage to it. Upon this bough she now seated herself; for curving upwards, it formed a commodious seat. The horrid adventures of that lake, and all the virtues of her young benefactor, who so narrowly she escaped the misery of seeing sink from her sight for ever, forming her meditations until her young benefactor himself struck her view, and who, in the wild impetuosity of his feelings, threw himself at her feet.

Lord St. Orville, finding that he was perfectly well this morning; (or, at least, anxiety to see his father, and the adored preserver of his parent's, and his own life, making him believe himself so); arose at his accustomed hour, but soon, from learning the time his mother retired to rest, knowing he should have little chance of seeing Julia for some hours, and not venturing to present himself uncalled before his father, (on whom he almost trembled for the effect of their first meeting) he bent his steps to the cilff, to speak his animated thanks to

Julia's agents in his preservation. He only found Dame Jones at home; whose joy at seeing him safe and well sensibly affected him; and as if, by inspiration, knowing what then would give most pleasure to the dear preserver of her children to talk upon, related to him every word, look, and motion of Miss De Clifford, when she came to summon aid for him, and how she had herself unchained and taken Neptune with her, to his rescue.

"What could have induced Julia, in defiance of that terror she had ever unaffectedly evinced at this formidable animal, even to enter his kennel alone, and herself give him freedom? Was it solely compassion; or could it, could it be love?" The question, though only a question, excited such emotion, that, too mighty for concealment, he made his retreat from Mrs. Jones's, and hastily descended to the scene where Julia had been actuated to such exertion for his and his father's preservation; he had walked round the lake, shuddering at the danger they had so providentially escaped; and his heart throbbing with gratitude to

heaven and Julia, until he saw our heroine approaching.

This unexpected sight of her, set every emotion of his heart in wildest tumult; and so full of love and tenderness he found it, that he dared not at that moment accost her, lest he should betray his bosom's secret: hastily he therefore retired into the Boscade; but still carefully taking his station where he could observe her. He saw her kiss the branch of the willow which he had held by." Was this the gratitude of humanity, or of love?" was a prompt question from his panting heart. "But who was to answer it?-Time, and Julia."-And now he beheld her pensively seat herself, and shortly after apply her handkerchief to her eyes. "Tears! Were they awakened by recollection of the distressing scene of the preceding day, or were they excited by the calumny which malice had dared to attack her spotless fame with?" However, caused by what they might, he could not bear that Julia should shed tears; and rushing towards her, his heart overflowing with every tenderness, he threw himself on his knees be

fore her; and grasping her hand, which was unemployed by her handkerchief, he pressed it to his lips, his heart exclaiming,

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"My Julia!-my life!" when suddenly recollecting himself, he audibly repeated a terminating s. and added, "preserver."

Julia now trembling with agitation at his unexpected appearance, and at the emotion he evinced, lost the power for a moment of articulation. She could only aim at raising him by the hand he held of hers, in his tremulous grasp; and with the other to motion to him to sit beside her.

Her wish was law to him, and instantly he obeyed it; but her hand he relinquished not; that he still retained; imprinting kisses on it; and while tears of tenderness and gratitude bedewed her glove, still repeating, "Preserver of my father's life, and mine!"

"Allude not to-speak not ever of yesterday to me, I beseech you," at length; said Julia, "for I never can at all bear to hear of it."

"Never speak to you, of yesterday! Oh!

B 3

Miss De Clifford, do you suppose I can obey you?"

"Never, at least, until I learn to think of the very agonizingly terrible scene with composure if I can, ever.'

"Oh! when shall I think of it, with composure?" said Lord St. Orville. "Can the gliding form of Julia, like the succouring angel of pitying heaven, placing the means of preservation in my father's hands and mine, at the peril of his own life-everbe

"Hush! hush!" exclaimed Julia, "or you will make for me blushes to think how languid my gratitude has been in finding the power so small to thank you; for twice my life preserved, at much terrible hazard of your own. Each time you sadly suffered for my good, and I got not harm at all;-for see, how well I am."

The tone in which she said this, was so resistlessly sweet, the accompanying look so fascinating, that they at once subdued Lord St. Orville's present small share of self-possession, and from excess of trembling agi