out well; he might grow to love and
to prize her, and she would stand between him and me like an
angel of peace. He could not but admire the faultless beauty
of her face; the poetical nature of her mind; the calm
simplicity of her character. I said this to myself; but while
I said it, my heart whispered a denial. I knew Henry too well.
I had seen too clearly what he admired in me--what subdued him
in some measure to my influence, even in his fiercest moments
of irritation. It was the very points in my mind and character
which were most different from hers. The very defects in
myself, that made me look upon her, as a lost and ruined
sinner might gaze on a picture of the blessed Virgin, these
very defects were what riveted and enthralled him. His last
words rang in my ears as I looked on his blotted and hasty
signature, and my heart sunk within me as I _felt_ "that all
was not over between us."

The next letter I read was from Mr. Lovell; it was thus
worded:--

"My dear Mary,

"Your affection for your brother has always been so great,
that I dread the effect which my present communication will
have upon you. It will take you by surprise, as it has done
me. That Henry should give us subjects of regret and annoyance
would be no strange occurrence; but that he (the goodness of
whose understanding, at least, has never been called in
question)--that he should have acted in so deplorably foolish
a manner, is more than one would be prepared for; the natural
refinement of his character alone might have preserved him
from a connection which is really disgraceful. It is better to
tell you the fact at once, for you certainly could never have
imagined or foreseen such an event. Your brother, without
having made the slightest communication to me, or to any one
else, as far as I can find out, married, last Thursday, at
Bromley Church, the grand-daughter of the woman who was your
nurse, and afterwards his. He looks wretchedly ill and
unhappy, and gives no explanation of his conduct, further than
by repeating, that as he was certain that I would not give my
consent to his marriage (and he is right there), he thought it
best to put the matter at once beyond discussion. In some
ways, bad as it is, it might have been worse. I find that the
girl is only seventeen--very handsome--has been well brought
up for a person in her rank of life, and has a fortune of 5000
_l_. I have refused to see her, as I am determined to mark my
indign