tand me--what answer
shall I return?"

Alonzo sighed: for a few moments he was silent.

"Perhaps, said the stranger, you may consider the _mode_ of this message
as bearing the appearance of indecorum. If so, I presume, on reviewing
the incidents which to--which _enforced it_, as the most safe, the
_only_ means of sure communication, you will change your opinion.
Probably you would not wish finally to decide until you have visited the
lady. This was my expectation, and I am, therefore, ready to introduce
you to her presence."

"No, sir, said Alonzo, so far from considering the message indecorous, I
esteem it a peculiar honour, both as respects the lady and yourself. Nor
is it necessary that I should visit the lady, to confirm the truth of
what you have related. You will not, sir, receive it as an adulatory
compliment, when I say, that although our acquaintance is short, yet my
confidence in your integrity is such as to require no corroborating
facts to establish your declaration. But, sir, there are obstacles,
insuperable obstacles, to the execution of the measures you would
propose.

"Your frankness to me, demands, on my part, equal candour. I assured you
that I was unmarried, and had no prospect of entering into matrimonial
engagements; this is indeed the fact: but it is also true that my
affections--my first, my earliest affections were engaged, unalienably
engaged, to an object which is now no more. Perhaps you may esteem it
singular; perhaps you will consider it enthusiasm; but, sir, it is
impossible that my heart should admit a second and similar impression."

The stranger paused. "Recent disappointments of this nature, he replied,
commonly leave the mind under such gloomy influences. Time, however, the
soother of severest woes, will, though slowly, yet surely, disperse the
clouds of anguish, and the rays of comfort and consolation will beam
upon the soul. I wish not to be considered importunate, but the day may
arrive when you may change your present determination, and then will you
not regret that you refused so advantageous an overture?"

"That day will never arrive, sir answered Alonzo: I have had time for
deliberate reflection since the melancholy event took place. I have
experienced a sufficient change of objects and country; the effect is
the same. The wound is still recent, and so it will ever remain: indeed
I cannot wish it otherwise. There is a rich and sacred solemnity in my
sorrows, sir, which I