ssed; but fell insensibly
into confidential discourse. Darnford represented, "that they might soon
be parted," and wished her "to put it out of the power of fate to
separate them."

As her husband she now received him, and he solemnly pledged himself as
her protector--and eternal friend.--

There was one peculiarity in Maria's mind: she was more anxious not to
deceive, than to guard against deception; and had rather trust without
sufficient reason, than be for ever the prey of doubt. Besides, what are
we, when the mind has, from reflection, a certain kind of elevation,
which exalts the contemplation above the little concerns of prudence! We
see what we wish, and make a world of our own--and, though reality may
sometimes open a door to misery, yet the moments of happiness procured by
the imagination, may, without a paradox, be reckoned among the solid
comforts of life. Maria now, imagining that she had found a being of
celestial mould--was happy,--nor was she deceived.--He was then plastic
in her impassioned hand--and reflected all the sentiments which animated
and warmed her.

-- -- -- --
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

CHAP. XVI.

ONE morning confusion seemed to reign in the house, and Jemima came in
terror, to inform Maria, "that her master had left it, with a
determination, she was assured (and too many circumstances corroborated
the opinion, to leave a doubt of its truth) of never returning. I am
prepared then," said Jemima, "to accompany you in your flight."

Maria started up, her eyes darting towards the door, as if afraid that
some one should fasten it on her for ever.

Jemima continued, "I have perhaps no right now to expect the performance
of your promise; but on you it depends to reconcile me with the human
race."

"But Darnford!"--exclaimed Maria, mournfully--sitting down again, and
crossing her arms--"I have no child to go to, and liberty has lost its
sweets."

"I am much mistaken, if Darnford is not the cause of my master's
flight--his keepers assure me, that they have promised to confine him two
days longer, and then he will be free--you cannot see him; but they will
give a letter to him the moment he is free.--In that inform him where he
may find you in London; fix on some hotel. Give me your clothes; I will
send them out of the house with mine, and we will slip out at the
garden-gate. Write your letter while I make these arrangements, but lose
no t