aken several turns, and
retired into the little arbor, where you and I have spent so many happy
hours, before Major Sanford entered. When he appeared, a consciousness
of the impropriety of this clandestine intercourse suffused my cheek,
and gave a coldness to my manners. He immediately penetrated the cause,
and observed that my very countenance told him he was no longer a
welcome guest to me. I asked him if he ought so to be, since his motives
for seeking admission were unworthy of being communicated to my friends.
That, he said, was not the case, but that prudence in the present
instance required a temporary concealment. He then undertook to
exculpate himself from blame, assuring me that as soon as I should
discountenance the expectations of Mr. Boyer, and discontinue the
reception of his address, his intentions should be made known. He was
enlarging upon this topic, when we heard a footstep approaching us, and,
looking up, saw Mr. Boyer within a few paces of the arbor. Confusion
seized us both. We rose involuntarily from our seats, but were mute as
statues. He spoke not a word, but casting a look of indignant accusation
at me,--a glance which penetrated my very soul,--turned on his heel,
and walked hastily back to the house.

I stood a few moments, considering what course to take, though shame and
regret had almost taken from me the power of thought.

Major Sanford took my hand. I withdrew it from him. "I _must_ leave
you," said I. "Where will you go?" said he. "I will go and try to
retrieve my character. It has suffered greatly by this fatal interview."

He threw himself at my feet, and exclaimed, "Leave me not, Eliza; I
conjure you not to leave me." "Let me go now," I rejoined, "or I bid you
farewell forever." I flew precipitately by him, and went into the
parlor, where I found Mr. Boyer and my mamma, the one traversing the
room in the greatest agitation, the other in a flood of tears. Their
appearance affected me, and I wept like an infant. When I had a little
recovered myself, I begged him to sit down. He answered, No. I then told
him that however unjustifiable my conduct might appear, perhaps I might
explain it to his satisfaction if he would hear me; that my motives were
innocent, though they doubtless wore the aspect of criminality in his
view. He sternly replied, that no palliation could avail; that my
motives were sufficiently notorious. He accused me of treating him ill,
of rendering him the dupe of coquet