and her heavy languid eyes seemed to contradict her efforts to be cheerful at the breakfast-table-vain efforts!-for Mortimer spoke not; wrapt in impenetrable gloom, he scarcely touched his breakfast, scarcely noticed the little Noel, who had endeavoured by his playful antics to attract a smile. The silent meal was interrupted by the arrival of the post-bag; and never was a well-filled letter-bag more welcome to Constance than at that moment, when she saw that Mortimer was brooding on something intensely painful.

"A letter from my mother to announce her return from France," said Mortimer.

"O how glad I am!" exclaimed Constance.

"It is rather mal-à-propos, however," said Mortimer; "she will, I fear, delay the execution of my plans, for she requires my attendance immediately in London, where she has business to transact."

"But I hope she is well?"

"Yes, quite well." He threw the letter, with evident dissatisfaction, to his wife. It expressed Mrs Mortimer's anxiety to be once more with her happy son and daughter, and intention, if they were to be at home, to spend the summer with them. A faint hope of change or delay brightened the countenance of Constance. Mortimer saw it. "No," said he, "do not think of it; my resolution is fixed; my preparations shall be made directly; before summer is over we shall bid adieu to Pool Basset."

"And your mother-my dear mother, as I may truly call Mrs Mortimer

66

My mother must bear my loss as she did before; I could not-no, not for worlds would I expose myself to my mother's lectures now!"

The momentary joy Constance had felt was again depressed; and while she mechanically opened her letters, she could think only of the blow that was preparing for poor Mrs Mortimer.

Ferdinand sat without speaking for a length of time; then, rousing himself as if by an effort, he said at last, "I had intended to have gone this morning to inform the Normans of my intentions, but my mother's letter will prevent me. And, really, it would be difficult to explain the affair to them."

"And quite unnecessary, I think," said Constance.

"Is it possible you think so? Would you complete your cruel work by departing without one explanation-one adieu !"

"I would bid Julia many a tender adieu, for I feel much affection for her; but I will explain to no person whatever, our motives for leaving home. Undoubtedly there is every reason that delicacy and regard for Julia can suggest, for not confiding them to her or to Lady Norman."

"And my mother," said he; "what a welcome it will be to my mother to tell her I am going to America! She will endeavour to dissuade me, but she will fail.-Do you know, Constance, I have all my life wished to live in America."

"Live in America! I thought you were only going to visit it for some months."

"Well, perhaps it may be so; I know not yet; but I confess I should like to settle there, and remain in a country where we should be unfettered by the turmoil and the forms of social life, and see the boundless grandeur of nature in full perfection."

Mortimer might have declaimed for ever to his wife on the grandeur of nature in the western world; his words fell senseless on her ears. To live in America! torn for ever from her parents! all her latent hopes thus destroyed! Poor Constance again reproached herself; reasoned again on her conduct; but ended in the conviction that she had been right. She now resolved to make no objection to his determination, and, by refraining from opposition at present, hoped to calm her husband's disturbed mind; supported by a shadowy idea that he might yet, perhaps, be himself disgusted at the lonely liberty he now desired.

In consequence of his mother's letter, Ferdinand set out immediately on his journey to London, having arranged to meet Constance at Clarens Court; and all necessary preparations for the voyage being put in train, so that all might be ready punctually, Constance wrote to Clarens Court to announce her intended visit. Before she left home she went to see Lady Norman and Julia. She sat long with them, but, dreading the violence of Julia's feelings, should she mention their plan to her, she only informed her that they were going away for a long time. She afterwards wrote to her a slight sketch of their intentions. Constance felt much for her;

but Julia's feelings were violent, and, therefore, they soon exhausted themselves; and they were of so transient a nature, that Constance could not have sympathised with her had she well understood her character. She loved Julia, and judged mildly of her faults. Sympathy and mercy cast their gentle shadows over her mind; and while they softened the stern dictates of justice, they suggested the truth, of which she was indeed conscious, that, even to those who had had better education and wiser friends than Julia Norman, the influence of Mortimer had been almost irresistible.

CHAPTER IV.

And panting care is lurking there,
And dark ambition's swell;

And some that part, with bursting heart,
From objects loved too well.

And many a grief, with gazing fed

On yonder distant shore;

And many a tear in secret shed,

For friends beheld no more.

Yet sails the ship with streamers drest,
And shouts of seeming glee;

But oh! how loves the mortal breast,
To hide its misery!

HEBER.

THE unexpected intelligence of the intended visit of Constance was received by her father but a few hours before her arrival. The joy which it had caused soon fled when they beheld her pale and agitated countenance; and her appearance excited so much anxiety and so many inquiries, that she had scarcely time to prepare them for the shock which she must inflict. By degrees, and with many interruptions, both from agitation and from dreading the effect on their feelings, she communicated to them Mortimer's wish to leave England; and having at last named North America as their destination, she said no more.

It was enough, at their age, to know that the Atlantic Ocean was to separate them. It was enough to see these tender parents already overpowered by only a small part of the affliction they were yet to endure.

They inquired what caused such a sudden resolution; but Constance was on that point impenetrable. No expression dropped from her that could convey any idea but that it was his wish to see other countries, and visit unknown regions; and that she thought the inactivity of his tranquil life at Pool Basset required some change.

When Mrs Mortimer's affairs were arranged, she and Camilla, suffering deeply from the afflicting plans which had been unfolded to them, accompanied Ferdinand to Clarens Court. The two families were united in grief as in friendship; and Mrs Mortimer promised her daughter-in-law, that, after her departure, they would remain for some time with her father and mother;-sympathising friends, indeed, equally overwhelmed with the same affliction.

Mrs Mortimer vainly expected some explanation from Constance of the cause of their plans; but she waited in vain.

"My dear daughter," said Mrs Mortimer, when the time of their departure drew near, "I have forborne to investigate, but I see there is some mystery. I know my son's countenance, and perceive there is a wound rankling in his soul—a painful wound. I do not ask you what it is, but I think it right to tell you that I observe it; because, hereafter, circumstances may force you to confide in some friend, and I, his mother, know best the inward workings of his mind."

Constance embraced her in silence, cast her tearful eyes on the ground, and, after some moments of hesitation, she replied:

"Offences must come in this imperfect world, but to reveal them is often only to aggravate them, and may produce unmitigated pain; believe me, if a little cloud has for a moment overshadowed our happiness, silence will assist in dispelling it; and Ferdinand, though not wont to have any concealment from his dear mother, will hereafter approve of my reserve; it is the same to my own mother as to you."

"Whatever has happened, whatever may happen, I feel that my son's happiness, his honour, his high character, will be preserved by your steady, uncompromising integrity. I know well that no imprudence of yours will ever tarnish the lustre of his fame-of his name, I However I may may say. wish to know what concerns my son (and you will think it natural that I should), I esteem your prudence, I love your gentle firmness;-happy man, to have such a wife!"

"You will, I hope," said Constance, gratefully pressing her hand, "consent to Ferdinand's proposal, and live chiefly at Pool Basset; it will be a gratification to me to know that you and Camilla are at that dear place, which I shall always love."