She has saved my life; she has been my guardian angel;—and yet she disclaims it all. She will hear nothing on the subject, seems pained and distressed when it is alluded to, and assured me, with energy, that she had been the cause of nothing but evil to me.-What she meant by this I can't imagine—she would not explain. I suppose she sees I am in love with her-has sense to know that I cannot, or ought not, to marry herand so thinks I owe her nothing but evil, for making me miserable.

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Lady Hunlocke, who pays me a short visit every day, evidently sees my passion, and seems to be inexpressibly delighted with it. She says Carline,' (for that is her strange name), 'is a most wonderful and admirable creature, with finer natural endowments of mind and heart, than any being she ever knew.' Even the old Doctor says, and he is not in love with her, that Mademoiselle Carline is a most extraordinary and superior young woman.’

Would that she had not been a waiting maid!

I am miserable with my perplexities and uncertainties, when I think about them-but the moment I hear her voice and see her smile, I am in heaven. I should not be writing to you now about

them, my good friend, I can tell you-if she had not left me, under the pretence of taking the air a little; but she is up with the lark, and out walking long before my eyes are unclosed to the light of day; and I believe she went away, only because the old German woman, who sits here knitting all day long, acting the part of duenna, left the room for some reason or other, and Mademoiselle Carline is so punctilious, she won't stay with me a single moment alone.

Here she comes !-Preceded by the old grandmother,-like Hecate and Hebe. I hear her voice! Adieu! Tolly adieu!

LETTER XX.

CAROLINE ST. CLAIR TO MRS. BALCARRIS.

Grindelwald, Monday, September 22.

My last letter* would inform you, that through the mercy of Providence, our patient was out of danger. He is now so well, that we might leave him with perfect safety, and safe conscience; but though extremely anxious that we should have gone to-day, especially as Philips, Lady Hunlocke's man-servant, arrived yesterday from Interlachen, recovered from his fever,-I have not been able to persuade Lady Hunlocke to set off. She defers it from day to day, under some pretext or other—and continually importunes me to let her have the 'éclaircissement', as she called it, before we go. Now I never mean to have any 'éclaircissement' at all. I probably never may see Mr. Breadalbane again so long as I live, and desire always to continue 'Mademoiselle Carline' in his belief and remembrance. However, as Lady Hunlocke has promised-and I know she will keep her word-never

* Not printed.

to disclose the truth to him without my consent, which I never will give-I feel easy on that point. Lady Hunlocke has made out that he is Breadalbane of Breadalbane, nephew and heir presumptive of Lord Roslin, just coming of age and into possession of a large paternal property in Fifeshire. This discovery has set her inventive genius to work, and I really believe is the sole cause why she is so averse to go;-not that she cares a straw for him herself, but I see clearly that she wants him to take a fancy to me--a fancy which idleness and opportunity may possibly generate-but which absence will assuredly speedily annihilate.

But the season is now so far advanced, that unless we set off almost immediately, it will be impracticable to make our proposed little tour of the High Alps at all-so that I believe we shall really go the day after to-morrow-at least she has promised me that she will; and also, that she will not acquaint Mr. Breadalbane with her intended departure. I am interrupted by a summons to the sick room, from the surgeon.

Monday Night.

How shall I relate to you my dear Georgiana, the scene of this morning! It has overwhelmed

me with agitation and distress, such as I never before experienced.

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I was in Mr. Breadalbane's room, after the surgeon's departure, and had just finished bandaging the wounds on his head, when the servant opened the door, and said in her native German or rather Swiss, the only language she can speak-that ' a gentleman was coming up to see the gentleman.' At the same moment I heard upon the stairs, the voice of Mr. Lindsay! I knew it too well to be mistaken. Had I left the apartment, I must have met him at the door. There was barely time-so few are the stairs in this little dwelling-for me to fly into the little room, or rather closet, which communicates with Mr. Breadalbane's room, and lock myself in—but even this I could not accomplish before Mr. Lindsay had caught a glimpse of my retreating figure-though fortunately not of my face. There, I was compelled to remain during his whole visit, which I believe lasted two hours; for the little place I was in has no other outlet than through Mr. Breadalbane's chamber, to which it appertains.

You can never conceive the feelings of shame and confusion which overwhelmed me, while secreted in this equivocal and humiliating situation! To be found by Mr. Lindsay, although he knew not