his secrets shall be buried as in a sepulchre;

and soon, most soon shall I perish with them. . . .

Calantha paused in the narrative; she gasped for breath; and wiping away the tears which struggled in her eyes: "If he treated my friend with unkindness," she said, "dear as he has hitherto been to me, I will never behold him more." She then proceeded.

"All enjoyment of life has ceased:—I am sick at heart. The rest of my story is but a record of evil. To exhibit the struggles of guilty love, is but adding to the crime already committed. I accuse him of no arts to allure: he did but follow the impulse of his feelings: he sought to save—he would have spared me: but he had not strength. O my father, you know Lord Glenarvon—you have felt for him, all that the most grateful enthusiasm could feel; and for the sake of the son whom he restored to you, you must forgive him the ruin of an ungrateful child, who