ss, and pain, and suffering, that I feel the consolation which
arises from our trust in another. This consolation, however, though
true, is sad, and the very joy it gives is melancholy, because it arises
from that mysterious change which withdraws us from existence; and when
it leads us to happiness we cannot forget that it is through the gate of
the grave. But still it is a consolation, and a great one--to a sufferer
like me, the only one--we must all die."

Like a strain of soft but solemn music, these mournful words proceeded
from her lips, from which they seemed to catch the touching sweetness
which characterized them.

"I ought not to shed these tears," she added; "nor ought you, dear
Charles, to feel so deeply what I say as I perceive you do; but I know
not how it is, I am impressed with a presentiment that this is probably
our last meeting; and I confess that I am filled with a mournful
satisfaction in speaking to you--in looking upon you--yes, I confess
it; and I feel all the springs of tenderness opened, as it were, in my
unhappy heart. In a short time,"--she added, and here she almost sobbed,
"it will be a crime to think of you--to allow my very imagination to
turn to your image; and I shall be called upon to banish that image
forever from my heart, which I must strive to do, for to cherish it
there will be wrong; but I shall struggle, for"--she added, proudly
--"whatever my duty may be, I shall leave nothing undone to preserve my
conscience free from its own reproaches."

"Take comfort, Lucy," he replied; "this will not--shall not be our last
meeting. It is utterly impossible that such a creature as you are should
be doomed to a fate so wretched. Do not allow them to hurry you into
this odious marriage. Gain time, and we shall yet triumph."

"Yes, Charles," she replied; "but, then, misery often grows apathetic,
and the will, wearied down and weakened, loses the power of resistance.
I have more than once felt attacks of this kind, and I know that if
they should observe it, I am lost. Oh, how little is the love of woman
understood! And how little of life is known except through those false
appearances that are certain to deceive all who look upon them as
realities! Here am I, surrounded by every luxury that this world, can
present, and how many thousands imagine me happy! What is there within
the range of fashion and the compass of wealth that I cannot command?
and yet amidst all this dazzle of grandeur I am