ing to the result, which, we trust, our readers have expected from the integrity and purity of her character. "If I had remained ignorant of his faults," she thought, "I should have had some excuse; I might then have hoped for assistance and blessing in my attempts to reform him. It would be presumption to trust, now, in any efforts I could make; and what right have I, with my eyes open, to rush into a situation where my own weak virtues may be subdued by trialsmust be assailed by temptation? Oh! when I heard him speak lightly of religion, how could I hope he would submit to its requisitions and restraints? I started at the first thought, that he was unprincipled; and yet I have always known there was no immoveable basis for principle, but religion. Selfish—vain—how could I love him! And yet—and she looked at the other side of the picture—his preference of me was purely disinterested—an orphan—destitute—almost an outcast—liable to degradation—and he has exposed himself to all the obloquy I may suffer—and does he not deserve the devotion of my life?" A moment before, she would have answered her self-interrogation in the negative; but now she seemed losing herself in a labyrinth of opposing duties. She thought that she ought not to place implicit reliance in John's statements. He might have exaggerated Erskine's faults. In his situation, it was natural he should; but he had such a calm, sober way with him, every word bore the impress of truth. The story of the gambling
