Mr Lyndsay felt his presence was useless, and, therefore, resolved on returning home. But, before he went, he sought an interview with Miss St Clair.

"I flattered myself," said he, "that before I lost sight of you again, I should at least have had the satisfaction of knowing the nature of the evils you are exposed to-but Mrs St Clair's situation puts an end to that hope for the present. I trust I leave you in safety, and I shall not stay long away—but if, in my absence, anything should occur to alarm you, promise that you will write to me instantly." Seeing her hesitate, he quickly added, "I am not seeking to engage you in any clandestine correspondence. Fabhor all concealment as much as you can do, but-must I say it? -you require a protector."

"I have my mother-my uncle," said she, faintly, for she felt that her lips belied her when she named her mother, and she shrunk from the idea of appealing to her uncle; "and, besides," added she, "I have mama's solemn assurance, that this person has left Scotland, probably for ever;" but the manner in which she said this, showed how little reliance she placed on this assurance.

"I cannot, to you, say what I think," said Mr Lyndsay; "but will you then promise, if ever you have the slightest reason to suppose you are again to encounter the insolence of that manand Lyndsay's soft mild eyes flashed fire as he spoke," promise me, then, that you will instantly claim Lord Rossville's protection."

But Gertrude dared not promise, and she remained silent.

"As it is," continued he, "I scarcely know whether I am justified in withholding from him what I have witnessed-"

"Oh! do not-dear Mr Lyndsay, do not, I beseech you, breathe a syllable of what has passed to Lord Rossville, or any one else—for my sake, do not

"For your sake I would do much—well, then, you give me your word—"

"Do not urge me-why should you involve yourself in trouble-perhaps in danger-for me? ---already you have risked your life to save mine -No, leave me to my fate, whatever it is."

"I hate the word fate," said Lyndsay; “like chance, it is a word easily pronounced, but nothing more;' so I shall not leave you to anything

so vague and mystical. As for me, I am no duellist, and, besides, this person scarcely appears to be of that rank in society, which would, what is called, entitle him to such satisfaction. Be assured, therefore, you will find me a bloodless champion-but without some assurance from you, I will not leave you unprotected."

Gertrude gave him her hand

"My dear, generous cousin!" said she, much affected by the interest he showed for her, "I promise, that if ever I am again in difficulty, and can have recourse to your assistance, I will-more I cannot-I dare not promise."

"Then, with that I must be satisfied-look upon me as your friend, my dear cousin, and let us leave the rest to Heaven-Farewell!”

Lyndsay's absence caused a blank to Gertrude, which she in vain tried to fill up-for, to an affectionate heart and refined taste, what can supply the want of that social intercourse, which is the very aliment of the soul? Nothing could be more triste than this state of existence. The only varieties she experienced were in the querulous complaints of her mother-the verbose harangues of Lord Rossville-the senseless questions of Lady

Betty-and the twice-told compliments of Mr Delmour.

"Is this life?" sighed she-" Ah! how different from what I had pictured it to myself— and thus I am absorbed, and this is life!""

But Gertrude only felt what all persons of acute sensibility have felt in similar situations, that" to be no part of anybody, is to be as nothing."

CHAPTER XXI.

Avaunt! and quit my sight!-let the earth hide thee!
Macbeth.

THE dreary monotony of a snow-storm now reigned in all its morbid solemnity. All nature was shrouded in one common covering-neither heavens nor earth offered any variety to the wearied sight-any sound to the listening ear. All was sameness and stillness-'twas as the pulse of life stood still-of time congealed; or if a sound perchance broke the dreary silence that reigned, it fell with that dull muffled tone, which only denoted the still burdened atmosphere.

Nothing can be more desolate and depressing than this exterior of nature to those who, assembled under one roof, are yet strangers to those fire-side enjoyments-that home-born happiness which springs from social intercourse. Here were no intimate delights-no play of fancy-no plea