bigh
started as she mentioned the name, and after a few moments' silence,
desired Mrs. Wilson to allow him to stop the carriage; he was not very
well--was sorry to be so rude--but with her permission, he would alight
and return to the house. As he requested in an earnest manner that she
would proceed without him, and by no means disappoint her friend, Mrs.
Wilson complied; yet, somewhat at a loss to account for his sudden
illness, she turned her head to see how the sick man fared, a short time
after he had left her, and was not a little surprised to see him talking
very composedly with John who had met him on his way to the fields with
his gun. Lovesick--thought Mrs. Wilson with a smile; and as she rode on
she came to the conclusion, that as Denbigh was to leave them soon, Emily
would have an important communication to make on her return.

"Well," thought Mrs. Wilson with a sigh, "if it is to happen, it may as
well be done at once."

Mrs. Fitzgerald was expecting her, and appeared rather pleased than
otherwise that she had come alone. After some introductory conversation,
the ladies withdrew by themselves, and Julia acquainted Mrs. Wilson with a
new source of uneasiness. The day the ladies had promised to visit her,
but had been prevented by the arrangements for the ball, the Donna Lorenza
had driven to the village to make some purchases, attended as usual by
their only man-servant, and Mrs. Fitzgerald was sitting in the little
parlor in momentary expectation of her friends by herself. The sound of
footsteps drew her to the door, which she opened for the admission of the
wretch whose treachery to her dying husband's requests had given her so
much uneasiness. Horror--fear--surprise--altogether, prevented her from,
making any alarm at the moment, and she sank into a chair. He stood
between her and the door, as he endeavored to draw her into a
conversation; he assured her she had nothing to fear; that he loved her,
and her alone; that he was about to be married to a daughter of Sir Edward
Moseley, but would give her up, fortune, everything, if she would consent
to become his wife--that the views of her protector, he doubted not, were
dishonorable--that he himself was willing to atone for his former excess
of passion, by a life devoted to her.

How much longer he would have gone on, and what further he would have
offered, is unknown; for Mrs. Fitzgerald, having recovered herself a
little, darted to the bell on the other s