notwithstanding that still lingering, still acute suffering, were roused
within him, and he resolved he would obey her. She should see her appeal
had not been made in vain; she should never blush for the man she had
honoured with her love; he would endeavour to deserve her esteem, though
they might never meet again. He felt he had been too much the victim of
an ill-fated passion; he had by neglect in trifles encouraged the
prejudice against him, lost himself active and willing friends; this
should no longer be, and Myrvin devoted himself so perseveringly, so
assiduously to his pupil, allowing himself scarcely any time for
solitary thought, that not the keenest observer would have suspected
there was that upon the young man's heart which was poisoning the
buoyancy of youth, robbing life of its joy, and rendering him old before
his time.

That Mr. Hamilton, the father of his Emmeline, that his feelings should
have thus changed towards him, that he should admire and esteem instead
of condemn, was a matter of truly heartfelt pleasure. Hope would have
shook aloft her elastic wings, and carried him beyond himself, had not
that letter in the same hour dashed to the earth his soaring fancy, and
placed the seal upon his doom. He could not be mistaken; Mr. Hamilton
knew all that had passed between him and Emmeline, and while he
expressed his gratitude for the integrity and forbearance he (Myrvin)
had displayed, he as clearly said their love was hopeless, their union
never could take place.

Myrvin had known this before, then why did his heart sink in even
deeper, darker despondency as he read? why were his efforts at
cheerfulness so painful, so unavailing? He knew not and yet struggled
on, but weeks, ay, months rolled by, and yet that pang remained
unconquered still.

And did Emmeline become again in looks and glee as we have known her?
Was she even to her mother's eye again a child? Strangers, even some of
her father's friends, might still have deemed her so; but alas! a
mother's love strove vainly thus to be deceived. Health returned, and
with it appeared to come her wonted enthusiasm, her animated spirits.
Not once did she give way to depression; hers was not that pining
submission which is more pain to behold than decided opposition, that
resignation which has its foundation in pride, not in humility, as its
possessors suppose. Emmeline's submission was none of these. Her duties
as daughter and sister and friend, as well