Montague, with feelings totally the reverse of those with which he had been introduced to Mrs. Stanhope; his mind overwhelmed with despair, at the prospect of his promised happiness being blasted, at a moment when he thought it most perfect; flew, scarcely knowing what he did, to the habitation of Minette. The scene he there witnessed, confirmed the truth of all he had heard, as previously some doubts had arisen in his breast, from the high opinion he entertained of Amelrosa, though the bare suggestion of her being unfaithful, was sufficient to render him miserable lest it should prove true.

The horrible conviction he now received. Harrassed mentally and personally, he set down in the violent impulse of the moment, and penned a challenge to Lord Conrade; but after sending a porter and his own servant to his residence, and every part of the town where his lordship was likely to be found, till day closed in, they returned

returned to him, after having made fruitless researches. They had been absent several hours, and by the time they came back, his recollection was restored, his passions calmed, and reason resuming her empire, he was rejoiced at their not having discovered Lord Conrade.

Though a soldier, and the bravest of men, duelling he did not approve. His country's foes he would face undaunted; or to defend a fellow creature, encounter imminent danger; but in cold blood to destroy, he abhorred; and only in such a moment of frenzy as he sustained, could have sent a challenge. He never gave an unprovoked insult, or would brook one; besides, he considered, as Amelrosa had transferred her affections, it would be most wounding to her feelings, should he deprive her favorite lover of life; or, if he fell himself beneath Lord Conrade's sword, occasion him to be tried by the laws of his country, which must cruelly wound her

mind. His passion had never been selfish, but her happiness his first object; and the regard he still retained, which her apparent ill usage could not obliterate, inclined him, since his earliest emotions of rage were subsided, to avoid any action that would give her additional uneasiness; and with these exalted sentiments, exhausted with internal and external pain, he retired to rest, endeavoring to gain a transient oblivion of his severe disappointment.

From the period of her last interview with Montague, Amelrosa sometimes by accident, met Mrs. Stanhope and Catherine on the stairs, though they as studiously avoided her as she did them, and never looked at her but with the most chilling coldness. The striking alteration in her person, and the mournful air that distin guished her, plainly evinced the success of the injury they had meditated; and their guilt forcibly striking them, they could not endure to behold her:-at least such

VOL. III.

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were

were the sensations of Mrs. Stanhope; for Catherine felt little else than a rooted enmity to her; while her mother was conscious, that supposing there had been any impropriety in her conduct, she had no right to interfere and prejudice the gentleman to whom she was engaged, to her disadvantage.

Amelrosa now found it necessary to awaken her fortitude, perceiving if she yielded to despondence, she would be incapable of the most trifling exertion. She wished to inquire after the health of Minette, yet dreaded going to the house, as it would remind her of the cruel scene she had undergone there; and recollected that she must likewise execute the commission Emmeline Glenholme had given her, to make several purchases, and she was more anxious not to neglect her, from being so peculiarly situated with her brother.

That she might have less chance, in her

pre

present dejection, of meeting any of her acquaintance, she left Mrs. Stanhope's early in the morning, proposing to go a shopping after she had seen Minette, and to remain a very short time with her, intending to return home soon. As she knocked at the door she shuddered involuntarily, and slightly asking if Mrs. Belmont was at home, was going up stairs, before she heard the answer, when the fat woman arrested her footsteps, with this address :—

"For sartin, Miss, you'll be disappointed; for poor Mrs. Belmont has left me these two days: howsomever, I've got a bit of a letter for you; and if you dident come in the course of a week, I was to put' it in the post for you. I be main sorry she's a gone; poor thing, she was very ill, and cried fit to break her heart when she got into the poshay with the nurse and the dear baby. She's the most good-natured generous lady I ever know'd, and I love her the same as if she was my own darter, for