agonizing glimpses of my inner life which
occasionally visit me? But I dare say every man feels them. What are
they, after all, but the superstitious operations of conscience--of that
grim spectre which is conjured up by the ridiculous fables of the priest
and nurse? Conscience! Why, its fearful tribunal is no test of truth.
The wretched anchorite will often experience as much remorse if he
neglect to scourge his miserable carcass, as the murderer who sheds the
blood of man--or more. Away with it! I am but a fool for allowing it to
disturb me at all, or mar my projects."

In this manner would he attempt to reason himself out of these dreadful
visitations, by the shallow sophistry of the sceptic and infidel.

The time, however, he thought, was now approaching when it was necessary
that something should be done with respect to Lucy's approaching
marriage. He accordingly sent for her, and having made very affectionate
inquiries after her health, for he had not for a moment changed the
affected tenderness of his manner, he asked if she believed herself
capable of granting an interview to Lord Dunroe. Lucy, now that escape
from the frightful penalty of her obedience was impossible, deemed it,
after much painful reflection, better to submit with as little apparent
reluctance as possible.

"I fear, papa," she said, in tones that would have touched and softened
any heart but that to which she addressed herself, "I fear that it is
useless to wait until I am better. I feel my strength declining every
day, without any hope of improvement. I may therefore as well see him
now as at a future time."

"My dear Lucy, I know that you enter into this engagement with
reluctance. I know that you do it for my sake; and you may rest assured
that your filial piety and obedience will be attended with a blessing.
After marriage you will find that change of scene, Dunroe's tenderness,
and the influence of enlivening society, will completely restore
your health and spirits. Dunroe's a rattling, pleasant fellow; and
notwithstanding his escapades, has an excellent heart. Tut, my dear
child, after a few months you will yourself smile at these girlish
scruples, and thank papa for forcing you into happiness."

Lucy's large eyes had been fixed upon him while he spoke, and as he
concluded, two big tears, the first she had shed for weeks, stood within
their lids. They seemed, however, but visionary; for although they did
fall they soon disappeared,