ut I durst not listen. My
course of life hitherto has been through scenes of gentleness and peace,
and I could not look on your bustle and dissipation without alarm. Yet
was I persuaded to mingle in your sports yesterday--that day hallowed by
the last fiat of its Creator, wherein the soul, freed awhile from the
cares of earth, may prostrate itself in homage before Him who said, 'It
is mine!' Justly punished for trifling with my better thoughts, my
escape shall not be without its acknowledgment."

Sir John was silent. She stood before him like some purer, brighter
thing than could be deemed akin to this polluted earth.

"Those siren waves were bearing me on to the gulf where"--She paused a
moment, shuddering at the dark retrospect of the past. "Where all your
pomp and pageantry will be overwhelmed, and yourselves, for ever, in the
same irretrievable ruin!"

Sir John looked uneasy, and his eye wandered, as if in search of some
object wherewith to throw off these gloomy anticipations. The maiden
again spoke:--

"It seemed as though a veil, invisible heretofore, were suddenly
undrawn. The glory and the baseness, the splendour and the pollution,
were at once revealed. The hand unseen had drawn it aside. I would now
shun--I hope for ever--- these paths of folly; and I bid farewell to
your pleasures without a murmur or a regret."

Sir John, courtier though he was, ardently and willingly rendering
homage at the shrine of pleasure and dissipation, was awe-struck.
Conscience echoed a fearful response; and he shrank before the reproof
he could not shun.

"Without regret!" said he, faltering and abashed. "I had hoped--perhaps
wished--but it was too presumptuous. My purest thoughts would have
sullied so pure a shrine."

"Stay, Sir John; though the confession be humbling to a maiden's pride,
yet my heart tells me 'tis the last time we meet; and it is the only
acknowledgment,--I render it to your honesty and good faith." Her voice
grew hesitating and tremulous. "There was a tendril twining about my
heart; but it is wrung off, and I am again--alone!"

Her heart was full, and her whole frame convulsed by some overpowering
emotion. An adieu died upon her lips; but she resolutely refused any
further communication. Hastening to the courtyard, she mounted her
little white palfry, and quitted for ever those fascinating and
dangerous allurements, which, having once felt, few have had the power
to withstand.

We need scarcely add,