aunt still had power to reach her heart.—"Is she very ill?" "Very dangerously ill," said the man; and without a moments delay, she immediately consented to return. She resolved to part from him she adored; and Glenarvon generously agreed to restore her to her aunt, whose sufferings had affected his heart—whose prayers had moved him, as he said, to the greatest sacrifice he ever was called upon to make. Yet still he upbraided her for her flight, and affirmed, that had she but confided herself in him, she had long before this have been far away from scenes so terrible to witness, and been spared a state of suspense so barbarous to endure. Whilst he spoke, he gazed upon her with much sadness.
"I will leave you," he said; "but the time may come when you will repent, and call in vain for me. They may tear my heart from out my breast—they may tear thee from me, if it is their mad desire. I shall or die, or recover, or forget thee.
