justice had cost her. She had, previous to her interview with Mr. Lloyd, determined not to disclose to him, or Mary Hull, the disagreeable affair of the robbery. She wished to spare them the pain, the knowledge of a perplexity from which they could not extricate her, must give to them. She was sure Mary, whose discernment was very quick, and who knew David well, would, at once, suspect him; and therefore, she thought, that in telling the story, she should violate the spirit of her promise; and, at bottom, she felt a lurking fearfulness that Mr. Lloyd might think there was more of gratitude than affection in her feelings to Erskine; she thought it possible, too, he might not estimate Edward's magnanimity quite as highly as she did; for "though," she said, "Mr. Lloyd has the fairest mind in the world, I think he has never liked Erskine. They are, certainly, very different"—and she sighed as she concluded her deliberations.
Mr. Lloyd, after remaining for a few moments in the posture Jane had left him, returned to his own home, abstracted and sad. 'The breath of Heaven smelt as wooingly,' and the sun shone as brightly as before, but there was now no feeling of joy within to vibrate to the beauty without; and he certainly could not be acquitted of the 'sullen neglect of nature,' that he had deemed treason an hour before.
"I knew," thought he, "she was fallible, and why should I be surprised at her failure? It cannot be Erskine, but the creature of her imagina-
