what I had
done. There I sat, Edward's affianced wife; and any moment
after this fact was made public, my persecutor might seek him
or Mr. Middleton, and tell them that but for me, Julia would
be still alive; and when summoned to deny the foul charge, and
confound the vile calumniator, should I say, "Yes, I struck
the helpless child in my anger, but I meant not to kill her; I
have buried the secret in my heart; day by day I have received
her father's blessings, and her mother's kisses, in
hypocritical silence. I have listened, Edward, to your words
of love; I have promised to be your wife, with a lie in my
mouth and deceit in my heart; but now I am found out, and I
implore mercy at your hands; and that you will believe me when
I say, that I did not mean to kill my cousin;" and may be, (I
exclaimed, interrupting myself with a burst of anguish,) may
be, he would not believe me! There is no medium in Edward's
judgment when truth is concerned; implicit confidence on the
one hand, unmitigated condemnation on the other. Oh! how
dreadful it would be to meet his eyes, from which love would
have vanished, and to feel that no protestations, no appeals,
could reach his heart; hardened, as it would be in that hour,
against the miserable deceiver who had usurped its tenderness
and betrayed its trust.

After an hour of harassing indecision I determined to consult
Henry, and sitting down at a table near the open window, I
wrote to him the following letter:--

"The last time I saw you, my dear Henry, you gave me reason to
hope that I might in future consider you as a friend. You bade
me open my heart to you, and seek your aid when new
difficulties should beset my path. The moment is come when I
must do so, and if you will not, if you cannot, save me,
nothing can. I once told you, that I never intended to marry
Edward; and, believe me (you know I have ever spoken the truth
to _you_, Henry, even at the risk of rousing your utmost
anger); believe me, when I say that _then_, and even as late
as twelve hours ago, such a resolution was the steady purpose
of my soul. An involuntary, spontaneous acknowledgment of
affection, which escaped me in a moment of imminent peril to
him, incurred in rescuing me from a similar peril, was
followed by an assumption on his part, that our marriage was
to be the natural result of such a confession. My uncle
considered it in the same light; and I found myself involved
in an engagement, which, in cool