general character, grew from acquaintance, into a sincere friendship. Every thing was arranged preparatory for the nuptials of this gentleman and Laura, when, toward the conclusion of the day preceding that named for their union, Mr. O'Byron and Sir William, observing Laura thoughtful, absent, and often agitated in her manner, recommended to the young people a dance by moonlight, on the level green in the front of the house. This proposal was cheerfully complied with. Sidney Athol, as a stranger, was complimented with Clarinda's hand, and Albany said gaily he then must be content with that of Laura, who blushed deeply, and a tear stood trembling in her eye, while her lover darted at her an expressive glance, and regarded her partner with evident uneasiness. A summons to supper put an end to the amusements of the evening. Three gentlemen from a neighbouring country seat, and who had been the partners of the Miss O'Byrons in the dance, and were frequent visitors at the Hall, remained there to a late hour; and immediately after they were gone, the family party arose to separate. Perplexity and sadness marked the countenance of Laura as she pronounced the adieus for the night; and when her lover pressed her hands tenderly to his bosom, as he led her to the door of the drawing-room, she turned from him, pale and disordered, and in an agitated voice bade him a good night. Her looks and manner during the day had been observed with surprise by Mr. and Mrs. O'Byron ; and hoping to discover the cause of her uneasiness, after the rest of the family were retired to their apartments, Mrs. O'Byron visited that of Laura: but to her extreme astonishment, found her not there. She then descended a flight of steps, which led to a flower-garden and shrubbery behind the house, where she knew knew Laura often walked by moonlight; and there she found her in a shady recess. on her knees, with her face concealed between her clasped hands. On hearing her name pronounced by Mrs. O'Byron, she started from that posture, and approaching her benefactress, her second mother, she pressed her extended hand to her heart and to her lips, and wept passionately. Grieved and embarrassed, Mrs. O'Byron gently enquired what it was that made her thus unhappy, at a time when she had not doubted but joy and gratitude wholly possessed her heart. It was many minutes before Laura could sufficiently recover herself to speak; and at length she told Mrs. O'Byron that she could not feel herself so near quitting that place, and all the objects it contained, so endeared to her heart, without great pain. She then implored her forgiveness, and dwelt on her obligations and attachment to the family, till Mrs. O'Byron reminded her it was time for them both to think of securing a few hours of repose; and hastening into the house, Laura promised she would soon follow her. The next morning, Clarinda, who generally arose with the lark, slept later than usual; but on entering the breakfastroom, she found it empty, and concluded that, except the servants, she was still the earliest riser in the house. She sat down to a harpsichord, and played a morning hymn. Her heart was lifted up with love and gratitude to the Eternal Source of all Good, and a glow of pure devotion animated her lovely countenance. She went to the window of the apartment, which looked into the garden, and distinguished Mrs. O'Byron with her son, walking hastily through a shaded alley at some distance. The next moment Captain Athol entered the room, with wild distraction in his air and looks. "Where is Laura?" he eagerly enquired. "I believe she is not yet arisen," replied the astonished Clarinda. "She is gone!" he exclaimed—“ she is stolen-she is lost for ever!" Clarinda stood motionless as a statue, scarcely believing herself awake. The whole family the next minute crowded around them, and proved what had fallen from the lips of the distracted Athol, not to be the illusion of a dream, for Laura eould indeed nowhere be found. Mrs. O'Byron, on whose mind the scene in the garden, on the preceding night, had left a deep impression, as soon as she was up, went to Laura's chamber, intending to have some more conversa. tion with her, and therefore was the first to discover her absence; and after explor ing many of her favourite walks, she flew. to the chamber of Albany, who was in a deep sleep. When roused by the voice of his mother, and informed of her fruitless search after Laura, he testified extreme surprise and alarm, and soon following E 6 Mrs. |