I turned to her, and our eyes met. She saw that I was uncommonly agitated, and her concern for me prevented her speaking. I bent close to her ear and said, read this immediately—pointing to the page—and remember that my life depends on what you do. I hurried from her, and walked up and down the narrow street until the lecture was over; which, to my fevered apprehensions, seemed never to have an end.
At length the door opened, and I saw one, and another, and then groups, descend the steps; the young lady appearing amongst the last, moving slowly, so as to give me time to see and approach her. When at the bottom of the flight she stopped, for a moment, and as I came near her she said, in a low tone, "Here are the notes, and I have added a few lines to them; good night." It was well she said this, as the giving me the paper, as I requested, would have plunged me into despair. I need not say that I hastened to my lodgings, that I might read the precious contents; for I could not but augur favourably of them from the manner of her giving the paper to me. Under my own impassioned scrawl were these lines.
"Notwithstanding the fear of giving you pain, I must return the leaf; for I should not like to leave it in the book. My whole manner must be a convincing proof that I have a high esteem for your character, and that I feel a strong interest in your welfare; more than this I dare not say. I am entirely dependent on my uncle; and it has been his wish, for many years, to see me the wife of his grandson—the person who has always accompanied me to the lectures. You need not fear that this event will ever take place, as my disinclination to it has long been known to the young man; and neither he nor my uncle have any power to compel me. In saying thus much I do not wish to en-
