ause, because he loved me--because he knew
that I returned his love, and he saw the utter hopelessness that
surrounded us, and he went forth to do his duty; he left me to forget
him, to obtain peace in forgetfulness of one I may never see
again--forgetfulness! oh, not till my brain ceases to throb will that be
mine. He thought to leave me with his love unspoken, but the words came,
and that very hour we parted. He loved me, he knew I could not be his,
and it was for this his living was resigned, for this he departed; and
had he cause to blush for this? pure, honourable, as was his love, too
noble, too unselfish to urge aught that could bid Emmeline forget her
duty to her parents for love of him; bearing every calumny, even the
prejudice, the harshness of my father, rather than confess he loved me.
He is innocent of every charge that is brought against him--all, all,
save the purest, the most honourable love for me; and, oh, is that
indeed, indeed a crime?"

She had struggled to the very last to speak calmly, but now sobs, the
more convulsive because the more suppressed, rose choking in her throat,
and rendered the last words almost inaudible. She pressed both hands
against her heart and then her temples, as if to still their painful
throbbings, and speak yet more, but the effort was fruitless, and she
darted wildly, and fled as an arrow from the room.

Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton looked on each other in painful and alarmed
astonishment, and Ellen, deeply affected, rose hastily, as if with the
intention of following her agitated cousin, but her aunt and uncle
entreated her not, alleging Emmeline would sooner recover alone, asking
her at the same time if she had known anything relative to the
confession they had just heard. She answered truly in the negative.
Emmeline had scarcely ever spoken of young Myrvin in her hearing; but as
the truth was now discovered, many little instances rose to the
recollection of both parents to confirm the avowal of their child, and
increase their now painfully awakened solicitude. Her agitation the
night of Edward's return, when Lord St. Eval laughingly threatened her
with marriage, rose to the recollection of both parents; her extreme
excitement and subsequent depression; her visibly failing health since
Arthur's departure, all, all, too sadly confirmed her words, and
bitterly Mrs. Hamilton reproached herself for never having suspected
the truth before, for permitting the young man to be thus i