am married to this man, Alice, my faith in virtue, in a good
conscience, in truth, purity, and honor, my faith in Providence itself
will be shaken; and then I will despair and die."

"Oh, what do you mean, my darlin' Miss Gourlay?" exclaimed her weeping
maid. "Surely you couldn't think of having a hand in your own death? Oh,
merciful Father, see what they have brought you to!"

"Alice," said she, "I have spoken wrongly: the moment in which I uttered
the last expression was a weak one. No, I will never doubt or distrust
Providence; and I may die, Alice, but I will never despair."

"But why talk about death, miss, so much?"

"Because I feel it lurking in my heart. My physical strength will break
down under this woful calamity. I am as weak as an infant, and all
before me is dark--in this world I mean--but not, thank God, in the
next. Now I cannot speak much more, Alice. Leave me to my silence and to
my sorrow."

The affectionate girl, utterly overcome, laid her head upon her bosom
and wept, until Lucy was forced to soothe and comfort her as well as she
could. They then sat silent for a time, the maid, however, sobbing and
sighing bitterly, whilst Lucy only uttered one word in an undertone, and
as if altogether to herself, "Misery! misery!"

At this moment her father tapped at the door, and on being admitted,
ordered Alice to leave the room; he wished to have some private
conversation, he said, with her mistress.

"Don't make it long, if you please, sir," said she, "for my mistress
won't be aquil to it. It's more at the point of death than the point of
marriage she is."

One stern look from the baronet, however, silenced her in a moment, and
after a glance of most affectionate interest at her mistress she left
the room.

"Lucy," said her father, after contemplating that aspect of misery which
could not be concealed, "I am not at all pleased with this girlish
and whining appearance. I have done all that man could do to meet your
wishes and to make you happy. I have become reconciled to your aunt for
your sake. I have allowed her and Mrs. Norton--Mainwaring I mean--to
be present at your wedding, that they might support and give you
confidence. You are about to be married to a handsome young fellow,
only a little wild, but who will soon make you a countess. Now, in God's
name, what more do you want?"

"I think," she replied, "that I ought not to marry this man. I believe
that I stand justified in the sight of God