received from Fenton at the time, he had declared that without the knowledge of that circumstance he never would have accepted his uncle Richard's proposition.'

"No doubt, dear mother, you had excellent reasons (as who has not in a like case,) for telling the secret, and abundant consolations for having told it; but allow me to finish my story. Fenton with all these prejudices in Grace's favour, arrives in Philadelphia; is introduced to my uncle, and favourably received. He learns our absence from the city, and determines to follow us immediately; he calls the next morning to take leave of my uncle, and is informed by him with his usual grossierté, of the contents of the letter he had written to Grace. Fenton knew enough of his cousin to believe that she would be as averse from giving her heart, as Falstaff was his reasons, on compulsion; and when I arrived, most opportunely, in Philadelphia on the day he had received this pretty piece of information from my uncle, I found him in a web of such doubts and difficulties, as you sentimentalists, Miss Bruce, are apt to weave about yourselves."

"But we sentamentalists," rejoined Ellen, "since you insist on placing me in that class, are not apt to expose our difficulties to the profane eyes of scoffers."

"No-and so my cousin would probably have lost himself in a labyrinth, from which no device of human ingenuity could have extricated him,

had not some expressions that fell from my uncle revealed to me the secret of his perplexities. I went immediately to Fenton, disclosed to him my discoveries, and suggested the scheme which has succeeded so happily. My uncle Richard knew the young people were together, and believed that all was going on well in obedience to his orders-the complete retirement of my mother's place protected us from observation, and my lofty cousin has been wooed and won in a manner most flattering to her own, and to Fenton's pride."

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CHAPTER XXIV.

"God's holy word, once trivial in his view,
Now by the voice of his experience true,
Seems, as it is the fountain whence alone

Must spring that hope he pants to make his own."

Cowper.

SOME days glided away while the gay society at Lebanon presented nothing to the eye of a casual observer but a brilliant surface of pleasure. But we claim to be among those gifted personages, who, like the Diable boiteux, are permitted to penetrate below the surface, to visit secret retirements, to dive into the depths of hidden thoughts, to explore their recesses, and to discover them to the curious eye. Availing ourselves of our prerogative, we beg our readers to quit with us the thronged piazzas, the dancing hall, the lively coteries that fill the public rooms, and take a peep into the respective apartments of the individuals we have presumed to introduce to their notice.

And first, as entitled to our chief interest, is Ellen-who, in spite of the beseeching looks of Westall and the raillery of Grace Campbell, persisted in secluding herself in her own room.

"What romantic whim have you taken into your head, Ellen?" said her friend, who had followed her from the breakfast-table one morning. “Come, my dear, you must not shut yourself up in this cell any longer-I bring an absolute requisition for you from my aunt Armstead, who has ordered the carriage to carry us all to see the shakers, and ramble about the hills in the neighbourhood, to spy out the beauties of the land. Fenton will take his port-folio with him, and while in sketching nature, he is paying his devotions to his first love, I shall be at liberty to give you a lecture upon your duties."

"Well, Miss Campbell, I will go with you." "Thank you, my dear; but pray do not look as if you were going to the stake.”

This was the day on which Ellen expected a reply to her letter to Mrs. Harrison, and she could not conceal, and dared not explain the reluctance with which she consented to an arrangement that must retard the time of her receiving it. She tried to evade Miss Campbell's scrutiny, by saying with a forced smile, "such a frail creature as I am may well feel dread of a lecture on my duties; but you may perhaps lessen it by telling me what those are that are to be the subject of your preaching."

"Kindness to your lover-frankness to your friend, Ellen. There is poor Westall turned off with the fezzenless bran' of common-place civility, and I, who have poured all my love-lore into

your ears, am obliged to make out the history of your heart as well as I can by the index of the changeful cheek-sometimes deadly pale, and then lit up by a glow that seems the shadow of your thoughts, so quickly does it brighten and fade away. You see, my dear, mysterious as you are, I have noted and comprehend the signs of the times."

"Believe me, my dear friend," said Ellen, taking Grace's hand affectionately, "I have a reason for the suspension of my intercourse with Westall -for my reserve to you, a day or two will, I trust in heaven, end this mystery; and when I am absolved from the necessity of any farther reserve, you shall know all."

"God speed the happy hour, my sweet Ellen, and show me that you have reason, even in your madness."

The ladies were interrupted by Mrs. Westall, who appeared at the door with her work-box in her hand, come,' as she said, 'to sit the morning with Miss Bruce.'

"Miss Bruce is engaged to ride with me, and I hope you will do me the favour to change your purpose, Mrs. Westall," said Miss Campbell, "and occupy a seat in my aunt's carriage, which we want very much to have agreeably filled."

Mrs. Westall assented readily to the polite request, and while she went for her hat and shawl, Miss Campbell said, "your good mother elect has taken you mightily into favour of late, Ellen.