their
acquaintance), "with every advantage which this world can afford, will
soon be called into society, in which I never can have any pretence to
enter. You will, in all probability, form a splendid connection before
(if ever) we meet again. You have my prayers, and shall have them when
seas divide us, for your happiness."

Seymour was so choked by his feelings, that he could say no more--and
Emily burst into tears.

"Farewell, Emily! God in Heaven bless you," said Seymour, recovering
his self-possession.

Emily, who could not speak, offered her hand. Seymour could not control
himself; he pressed her lips with fervour, and darted out of the room.
Emily watched him, until he disappeared at the winding of the avenue,
and then sat down and wept bitterly. She thought that he was unkind,
when he ought to have been most fond--on the eve of a protracted
absence. He might have stayed a little longer. He had never behaved so
before; and she retired to her room, with her heart panting with anguish
and disappointment. She felt how much she loved him, and the
acknowledgment was embittered by the idea that this feeling was not
reciprocal.

The next morning, when the hour had passed at which Seymour had stated
that he was to leave the spot, Emily bent her steps to the cottage, that
she might, by conversation with her friend Mrs McElvina, obtain, if
possible, some clue to the motives which had induced our hero to behave
as we have narrated.

Susan was equally anxious to know in what manner Seymour had conducted
himself, and soon obtained from Emily the information which she
required. She then pointed out to her, as her husband had done to
Seymour, the improbability, if not impossibility, of any happy result to
their intimacy, and explained the honourable motives by which Seymour
had been actuated,--the more commendable, as his feelings on the subject
were even more acute than her own. The weeping girl felt the truth of
her remarks, as far as the justification of Seymour was attempted.
Satisfied with the knowledge that he loved her, she paid little
attention to the more prudent part of the advice, and made a resolution
in his favour, which, as well as her attachment (unlike most others
formed during the freshness of the heart), through time and
circumstance, absence on his part, temptations on hers, continued
stedfast and immovable to the last.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

First Moloch, horrid king, besmeared with