r. Arthur
devoted himself to Mrs. Hill and me. I was bewildered and distracted at
the position in which my rash conduct had placed me, and I was very
silent. Arthur exerted himself to amuse me, and under the spell of his
attractions my remorse was smothered.

I have not spoken to you yet of the wonderful affection which Mrs. Hill
lavished on me. You have seen it lately, but it was the same from the
first. She made me her daughter at once, as far as her conduct to me
could do so, though I had been some months her companion before she
declared her intention of formally adopting me.

Day followed day, and Arthur was always by my side. A new feverish dream
of happiness encompassed me, and it was only in the quiet of wakeful
nights that I thought of my mother and sisters and brother, and longed
to hear some news of my sorrowful home. Every night my wrestlings with
my selfish nature grew weaker and weaker. I could not risk exposure and
banishment from Arthur's presence. I left Paris for Rome without writing
to my mother.

You will hate me, Margery. I hate myself. I gave myself up to the
delight of the hour, and in selfish happiness drowned the reproaches of
my conscience, till I told myself at last that it was too late to undo
what I had done. Time flew, and I became engaged to Arthur, secretly at
first, for he dreaded his father's displeasure. We went from place to
place, staying a few months here and a few months there. We spent a year
at Rome, and Arthur was with us nearly all the time. When we had been
some time engaged, Arthur confided in his father, and asked his consent
to our marriage. Sir Arthur was hopelessly enraged at the idea, and, as
we could not marry without his consent, we have been obliged to be
patient ever since. Arthur has always kept telling me that he knew his
father would relent in time. And he was right. The time has come. Sir
Arthur has at last reluctantly withdrawn his opposition, and we may be
married on any day in the future which I may choose to name.

Stay, stay! do not ask me any questions, or I shall not be able to go
on. Let me tell you everything before I stop. I used to dream that when
I was married to Arthur, when no power on earth could separate us, I
would confess who I was, seek out my mother, and ask her forgiveness.
Remorse never left me, and I had bitterness in the midst of my
happiness. Arthur suspected that I had trouble which I would not share
with him, yet I could not bring m