which I know not
how I shall be extricated? And do I entertain a hope? No, Miss Woodley,
nor ever will. But suffer me to own my folly to you--to entreat your
soothing friendship to free me from my weakness. And, oh! give me your
advice, to deliver me from the difficulties which surround me."

Miss Woodley was still pale, and still silent.

Education, is called second nature; in the strict (but not enlarged)
education of Miss Woodley, it was more powerful than the first--and the
violation of oaths, persons, or things consecrated to Heaven, was, in
her opinion, if not the most enormous, yet among the most terrific in
the catalogue of crimes.

Miss Milner had lived so long in a family who had imbibed those
opinions, that she was convinced of their existence; nay, her own reason
told her that solemn vows of every kind, ought to be sacred; and the
more she respected her guardian's understanding, the less did she call
in question his religious tenets--in esteeming him, she esteemed all his
notions; and among the rest, venerated those of his religion. Yet that
passion, which had unhappily taken possession of her whole soul, would
not have been inspired, had there not subsisted an early difference, in
their systems of divine faith. Had she been early taught what were the
sacred functions of a Roman ecclesiastic, though all her esteem, all her
admiration, had been attracted by the qualities and accomplishments of
her guardian, yet education, would have given such a prohibition to her
love, that she would have been precluded from it, as by that barrier
which divides a sister from a brother.

This, unfortunately, was not the case; and Miss Milner loved Dorriforth
without one conscious check to tell her she was wrong, except that which
convinced her--her love would be avoided by him with detestation, and
with horror.

Miss Woodley, something recovered from her first surprise, and
sufferings--for never did her susceptible mind suffer so
exquisitely--amidst all her grief and abhorrence, felt that pity was
still predominant--and reconciled to the faults of Miss Milner by her
misery, she once more looked at her with friendship, and asked, "What
she could do to render her less unhappy?"

"Make me forget," replied Miss Milner, "every moment of my life since I
first saw you--that moment was teeming with a weight of cares, under
which I must labour till my death."

"And even in death," replied Miss Woodley, "do not hope to shake th