hock
of my disobedience was too hard for him to bear. He died, and in vain have
I sought a place of repentance, though I sought it with tears.

"I have suffered much; but though I cannot conceal from you that your
father threw away the best portion of his life, his death was not without
hope. I cling to the trust that his sins were washed away, and his soul
made clean in the blood of the Saviour. Then, by the memory of all that I
suffered, and of that father whose features you bear, whose dying words
gave testimony to my faithfulness and affection to him, I conjure you to
conquer this unfortunate passion, which, if yielded to, will end in your
unceasing misery.

"There was little of my large fortune left at your father's death; we have
been almost dependant on your uncle. Yet it has not been dependance; he is
too generous to let us feel that. On your father's death-bed, he was all in
all to him--never leaving him; inducing him to turn his thoughts to the
future opening before him. He taught me where to look for comfort, and bore
with me when in my impatient grief I refused to seek it. He took you, then
almost an infant, to his heart, has cherished you as his own, and now looks
forward to the happiness of seeing you his son's wife; will you so cruelly
disappoint him?"

"I will do whatever you ask me, dear mother," said Alice. "I will never see
Walter again, if that will content you. I have already told him that I can
never be to him more than I have always been--a sister. Yet I cannot help
loving him."

"Cannot help loving a man whose very birth is attended with shame," said
Mrs. Weston; "whose passions are ungovernable, who has already treated with
the basest ingratitude his kindest friends? Have you so little pride? I
will not reproach you, my darling; promise me you will never see Walter
again, after to-morrow, without my knowledge. I can trust you. Oh! give up
forever the thought of being his wife, if ever you have entertained it.
Time will show you the justice of my fears, and time will bring back your
old feelings for Arthur, and we shall be happy again."

"I will make you the promise," said Alice, "and I will keep it; but I will
not deceive Arthur. Ungrateful as I may appear, he shall know all. He will
then love some one more worthy of him than I am."

"Let us leave the future in the hands of an unerring God, my Alice. Each
one must bear her burden, I would gladly bear yours; but it may not be.
Forget all th