rs; but she pleaded the absolute
necessity of her presence in London so strongly--she
betrayed, besides, something like a deep anxiety for some
coming event--that I was obliged to abandon my attempt, and
limit our acquaintance by the short two hours we had passed
together.

"It will take some time, and another long letter, to tell
you of the many topics we talked over; for, our first
greeting over, we felt towards each other like old friends.
At last she arose to leave me, and never since the evening
you bade me good-bye did the same loneliness steal over my
heart as when I saw her little carriage drive away from the
door.

"One distressing recollection alone clouds the memory of our
meeting: I suffered her to leave me without a promise to
return. I could not, without infringing delicacy, have
pressed her more to tell me of herself and her plans for the
future, and yet even now I regret that, at any hazard, I did
not risk the issue. The only pledge I could obtain was that
she would write to me. I am now at the end of my paper, but
not of my theme, of which you shall hear more in my next.
Meanwhile, if you are not in love with her, I am.

"Your affectionate mother,

"Marian Conway."

We have ourselves nothing to add to the narrative of this letter save
the remark that Mrs. Conway felt far more deeply than she expressed the
disappointment of not being admitted to Sybella's full confidence. The
graceful captivation of the young girl's manner, heightened in interest
by her friendless and lone condition,--the perilous path in life that
must be trodden by one so beautiful and unprotected,--had made a deep
impression on the old lady's heart, and she was sincere in self-reproach
that she had suffered her to leave her.

She tried again and again, by recalling all that passed between them, to
catch some clew to what Sybella's future pointed; but so guardedly had
the young girl shrouded every detail of her own destiny, that the effort
was in vain. Sybella had given an address in town, where Mrs. Conway's
lawyer might meet her if necessary, and with a last hope the old lady
had written a note to that place, entreating, as the greatest favor,
that she would come down and pass some days with her at the cottage; but
her letter came back to her own hands. Miss Kellett was gone.

CHAPTER XX. A SUPPER.

I