there, and lots of game. Hallo! what now?'

This exclamation was occasioned by the sudden stoppage of the coach at
the park-gates.

'Gen'leman for Staningley Hall?' cried the coachman and I rose and threw
my carpet-bag on to the ground, preparatory to dropping myself down after
it.

'Sickly, sir?' asked my talkative neighbour, staring me in the face. I
daresay it was white enough.

'No. Here, coachman!'

'Thank'ee, sir.--All right!'

The coachman pocketed his fee and drove away, leaving me, not walking up
the park, but pacing to and fro before its gates, with folded arms, and
eyes fixed upon the ground, an overwhelming force of images, thoughts,
impressions crowding on my mind, and nothing tangibly distinct but this:
My love had been cherished in vain--my hope was gone for ever; I must
tear myself away at once, and banish or suppress all thoughts of her,
like the remembrance of a wild, mad dream. Gladly would I have lingered
round the place for hours, in the hope of catching at least one distant
glimpse of her before I went, but it must not be--I must not suffer her
to see me; for what could have brought me hither but the hope of reviving
her attachment, with a view hereafter to obtain her hand? And could I
bear that she should think me capable of such a thing?--of presuming upon
the acquaintance--the love, if you will--accidentally contracted, or
rather forced upon her against her will, when she was an unknown
fugitive, toiling for her own support, apparently without fortune,
family, or connections; to come upon her now, when she was reinstated in
her proper sphere, and claim a share in her prosperity, which, had it
never failed her, would most certainly have kept her unknown to me for
ever? And this, too, when we had parted sixteen months ago, and she had
expressly forbidden me to hope for a re-union in this world, and never
sent me a line or a message from that day to this. No! The very idea
was intolerable.

And even if she should have a lingering affection for me still, ought I
to disturb her peace by awakening those feelings? to subject her to the
struggles of conflicting duty and inclination--to whichsoever side the
latter might allure, or the former imperatively call her--whether she
should deem it her duty to risk the slights and censures of the world,
the sorrow and displeasure of those she loved, for a romantic idea of
truth and constancy to me, or to sacrifice her individual wishes to the
fe