at then!" he exclaimed, as he paced to and fro the
room,--"because her father wronged me, and because I would claim mine
own--must I therefore exclude from my thoughts, from my sight, an image
so fair and gentle;--the one who knelt by my side, an infant, to that
hard man?--Is hate so noble a passion that it is not to admit one
glimpse of Love?--Love! what word is that? Let me beware in time!" He
paused in fierce self-contest, and, throwing open the window, gasped for
air. The street in which he lodged was situated in the neighbourhood of
St. James's; and, at that very moment, as if to defeat all opposition,
and to close the struggle, Mrs. Beaufort's barouche drove by, Camilla
at her side. Mrs. Beaufort, glancing up; languidly bowed; and Camilla
herself perceived him, and he saw her change colour as she inclined
her head. He gazed after them almost breathless, till the carriage
disappeared; and then reclosing the window, he sat down to collect his
thoughts, and again to reason with himself. But still, as he reasoned,
he saw ever before him that blush and that smile. At last he sprang
up, and a noble and bright expression elevated the character of his
face,--"Yes, if I enter that house, if I eat that man's bread, and drink
of his cup, I must forego, not justice--not what is due to my mother's
name--but whatever belongs to hate and vengeance. If I enter that
house--and if Providence permit me the means whereby to regain my
rights, why she--the innocent one--she may be the means of saving her
father from ruin, and stand like an angel by that boundary where justice
runs into revenge!--Besides, is it not my duty to discover Sidney? Here
is the only clue I shall obtain." With these thoughts he hesitated no
more--he decided he would not reject this hospitality, since it might
be in his power to pay it back ten thousandfold. "And who knows," he
murmured again, "if Heaven, in throwing this sweet being in my way,
might not have designed to subdue and chasten in me the angry passions I
have so long fed on? I have seen her,--can I now hate her father?"

He sent off his note accepting the invitation. When he had done so, was
he satisfied? He had taken as noble and as large a view of the duties
thereby imposed on him as he well could take: but something whispered
at his heart, "There is weakness in thy generosity--Darest thou love the
daughter of Robert Beaufort?" And his heart had no answer to this voice.

The rapidity with which lov