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perplexed you. I wish for not to dive into your secrets, believe me, if confiding in me would pain give for you. It is very sufficient of me to hear the so sad news that you are miserable, to awaken the whole interest from my mind for you. Heaven knows how strongly fervent I do wish for you happiness; and if I can no longer at all make promotion of it, allow me to sayif any of professions which you have to me said at any time, cause to you embarrassment, perplexity-contribute in any, even small degree, to your misery, erase them for ever off your mind, which I should do too, did not gratitude's claim for the kind thoughts for me which inspired them, forbid my memory ever ceasing them to cherish."

Fitzroy's eyes swam in tears of tenderness; his heart bounded visibly; and he almost gasped for breath ere he could articulate" Generous, noble Julia! my whole heart is thine! And whilst you permit me to hope for your affections, though distant, far distant, the realizing of that rapturous hope may be, no power on earth shall force or lure me to relinquish it. But you shall know every secret of my heart;

for it is right that you should search it deeply, to learn all its follies, its weaknesses; though by them you may find it unworthy the pure gem within your bosom."

"You do depreciate your own worth," said Julia, smiling, "only the exceedingly more judiciously, to give for me astonishment at your great deal value.”

"Oh! no, no; I fear you will be disappointed in my worth; but judge me, oh! judge me mercifully. At what hour do you go to-morrow?"

"At eleven."

"After the fatigue and late hours of tonight, I dare not ask you to rise so early as to meet me in the rectory grounds by eight o'clock."

"Oh!" said Julia, "I never do allow for the late hour I retire, to act for excuse to encroach upon my time for rising."

"Then will you, will you oblige me, by allowing me to-morrow the happiness of accompanying you in your morning walk, that I may pour into your generous bosom every secret of my heart, tell you all my perplexity, and obtain your gentle pity and advice?"

"I will be in the rectory grounds at

eight o'clock, if you do wish it," said Julia. "But why say communications for me, that may only pain make for you? Lord Francis Loraine is older friend than I am; he, too, can judge the heart to man, by sympathetic intuition; and, therefore, more truly better far than I could do. My heart is very equal to the good purpose of being merciful for you, but I know not you so well as lord Francis knows you. He understands of your heart all its secrets, all its windings, its meanings, and its wishes; he might tell very well, what could make for you happiness; and though I should greatly wish to make it for you too, I might not find out for you the way, by not knowing myself the true direction."

Again the gratitude and admiration of Fitzroy were powerfully awakened." Oh, Julia!" he exclaimed, "why hold such fascinating language to me here, where I must only dare, in a cold and languid whisper, thank you? To-morrow, I know, you will not speak so kindly to me; but to-morrow, I entreat, I implore you to meet me."

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Again I do say, I will meet I will meet you, since you so desire it; but remember, I had

greatly rather you would not tell for me any thing that can pain give to yourself: only tranquillize your own mind, and, believe me, mine will be satisfied quite well."

She

Lady Gaythorn and party's carriages were, at this moment, announced. They arose to go; and Julia saw, with disquietude, that one termination of the balcony reached the window, where she and Fitzroy had such an interesting conversation. hoped, however, that no one there had overheard any thing they said; every thing she knew could have reached any ear, however inattentive; but as to Fitzroy, even more than to herself, the idea of lady Enderfield having heard any thing he said must be particularly distressing, she forbore to mention the circumstance to him, who was already so disturbed by mental uneasi

ness.

Fitzroy, with tender anxiety, now wrapt Julia's shawl around her. A deep-drawn sigh reached his ears, issuing from behind where he stood. Lady Enderfield was keenly observing him, and hers was the sigh. He seemed aware that it was, for he started, changed colour, and, without looking round, hurried Julia along; and at the

ball-room door, he softly said—" At this door, Julia, full of hope and joy, I first met you this evening-at this door you sent me from you, full of fond and flattering expectations, to be unstrung-to meet with misery-to be tortured with agonizing pity, for a being I no longer love, no longer estimate."

"Can pity of a being we love not at all, we cannot even estimate, amount for agony ?" said Julia, mildly.

"It can, Julia; for in my bosom is, at this moment, torturing proof."

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Forgive me if I do doubt," she replied. "You mistake make of your feelings. You either still, still do love; or, not accustomed very well to disquietude, you fancy do the saddening thrills of soft compassion are pangs for anguish."

"Oh, Julia!" replied Fitzroy, mournfully and reproachfully, "had your heart ever beat with one throb of affection for me, you could not thus coldly analyse my feelings, when you see me wretched."

"Whatever name the feelings I experience for you may justly claim, I not know of," said Julia, in a tone of wounded