"I

scene, had not Carlo bounded from another part of the garden, barking with joy to meet the hand that had often caressed him. Bertha started up, and was running past him. He stopped her, earnestly imploring that she would not fly from him in the few last moments in which they might ever meet. go tomorrow," he said; "and who can say when I shall see you again?" Ellen had begged her not to go, and Conway gently led her back to the seat, placed himself between them, taking a hand of each, and addressed them mutually as follows: "Will you remember me when I am far off, and will you sometimes wish for me? Ellen, sister, (as he had been accustomed familiarly to call her,) you will not forget me, though Bertha may. To her my presence has lately seemed painful; yet I cannot endure to think that my absence will be a joy." Bertha, whose spirits had been subdued, and whose heart was already breaking by the remembrance of the sufferings which she had been relating to her friend, affected by the tender reproaches

of Conway, and by the look of fondness which he fixed upon her, again burst into an agony of tears. "This is too too much," said she, and was rising. "If you knew all, Captain Conway!" said Ellen. "He must not know it, Ellen, he must know nothing," interrupted Bertha: "by all your love for me I conjure....." ""Be easy, my Bertha," replied Ellen: "I will divulge nothing you ought to wish concealed." "Perhaps," said Conway, "I already know it. Dear dear Bertha!" said he emphatically-but, checking himself, only added, "Should I ever return to England, the first wish of my heart will be to find myself remembered here; and if I might indulge a hope, but-you could not if you would." He paused, and looked tenderly on Bertha, whilst tears swam in his expressive eyes. She made no reply by eye or word ; he could control his emotion no longer; but, hastily kissing a hand of each, hurried away.

"The God of battles preserve him!" said Ellen, as he left the garden. Bertha spoke

not, moved not; her eyes were fixed on the ground, and her whole mind absorbed by some deep feeling. At last, with a sigh that rose from the bottom of her heart, she said, "He is gone! one of the few who interest themselves for the unhappy Bertha." Ellen thought that the interest was stronger than he chose to avow: but she prudently forbore awaking a suspicion of the kind in the breast of her friend, lest, deceiving herself, she might deceive her; and almost in silence she accompanied her on her way back to the Mansion.

Conway left Albany the next morning. Whenever he happened to be mentioned by the friends who sincerely loved and valued him for the goodness of his heart, the sweetness of his temper, his just and honourable principles, and, united to the moral and social virtues, his high and heroic qualities, Bertha sat in silence, a silence so profound and full of expression, that no one ventured to notice it, or inquire into its cause.

Edmund still resided at the Rectory. He was the man her heart and fancy had preferred; she viewed him as a being of superior order; and while she thought of him as the destined husband of another, she involuntarily wished herself that other. She treasured his presents, she preserved every mémorial that could recall him to her mind, and every word he had written, almost every thing he had touched. To one who had but few objects to love, those who awakened her affections were almost idolized; and Bertha, in the ardour of her heart, often believed it impossible any other man than Edmund could inspire her with affection. But a heart of fifteen is happily not composed of such, mimosa materials as to wither from the first touch it may revive beneath the breath of kindness, and bloom in the sunshine of affection. Edmund loved Bertha as a child; Conway approached her as a woman; and her heart insensibly felt and acknowledged the difference. Then Edmund was betrothed

to Julia. Conway's tenderness had left an impression upon her mind, though it had not communicated itself to her heart; but she remembered how he looked, and what he said; and though she loved him, she was not (she thought) in love with him. Besides, she was scarcely fifteen, and was yet called child.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

Printed by Richard and Arthur Taylor, Shoe Lane, London.