Herbert thought that she perceived in Julia symptoms of partiality for her son. It was possible, she thought, that her own might deceive her; but still she observed, and the more she observed the more convinced she became. She communicated her remarks to Mr. Herbert, who instantly exclaimed"Then he loves her, my blessing on them both!" The delighted parents determined to watch and to be silent: they wondered they had never suspected it before; but now they were satisfied, that from all they saw, or imagined they saw, the attachment was mutual; and they prayed it might be fortunate, but prudently resolved not to accelerate it by any observation, or in any way to influence their conduct.

As usual Edmund and Julia met, conversed, sung, read, and walked together; he always met the extended hand of welcome from Mrs. Sinclair; and philosophy, instead of finding reasons for his flying the presence of the woman he loved, or being reserved when with her, advanced very op

posite arguments, which, in cooperation with the sentiments of his heart, led him to pass many hours of every day at the Cottage.

Carlo, the favourite of Bertha, and Rover, the College companion of Edmund, were either jealous of each other as rivals, or entertained feelings of hostility as enemies; they could not agree, and their quarrels at last became not only frequent but bloody. One of them it was thought must suffer the misery of chains, or of imprisonment; and to British dogs of liberty this seemed so dreadful a doom, that neither of their owners would permit the other to pass the sentence. When Edmund said that Rover must be chained up, Bertha insisted that Carlo should; and as the point was never amicably settled, Julia requested that she might take one of the offenders"Rover, if I might ask for him," she said; "but remember, I hold him only in right of another, he is still yours." "He is yours, replied Edmund, "if you will have him. "Go, Rover, thou art a happy fellow," said

he, patting him on his back-" thy master will often think of thee with envy."

One morning Mrs. Sinclair received letters which threw her into the deepest distress. She looked tenderly on Julia, and withdrew to her own apartment. Presently she sent for her. It was evident that she had been weeping, and was still in great agitation. Julia sat down by her, and took her hand. "I had hoped (she said) that my health was so much restored, that any sudden or violent emotion of the mind would not thus affect it: but I fear it is a poor shattered frame patched up only for a little time," Julia had seldom heard her aunt speak despondingly of herself, and these words greatly distressed her; she endeavoured to divert the melancholy that had taken possession of her, and spoke with hope and cheerfulness. Mrs. Sinclair shook her head: "I am very ill; but, O my God," she cried, clasping her hands together, spare, spare my life, that I may yet claim a parent for my Julia." Her emotion overpowered her. When she recovered, she con

sented to walk a little about the garden, Julia still seeking to divert her thoughts from the subject that pressed upon them. But she spoke little, and was evidently oppressed by some deep and unconquerable Ellen had been with Julia a part

sorrow.

of the morning, and Edmund called in the evening. Mrs. Sinclair had retired, and Julia was sitting alone and thoughtful in the parlour; the traces of tears were on her cheeks, and her eyes were heavy and mournful. She spoke of the letters her aunt had received in the morning, and of their effect, as to friends who were interested for her ; she wished she knew their purport, and who were the writers.

"I fear," said Julia, "she has many sorrows; but as she will not impart them to me, I can only participate in their effect, and grieve without affording relief." "Can you guess their cause?" said Edmund. "Partly I can," replied Julia.

replied Julia. "If they are such as to admit of advice or assistance, and if I durst presume to ask Miss Douglas to con

fide what she knows to a friend, one who feels for her, and who would serve her,".... "I am the cause," interrupted Julia, and burst into an agony of tears. "This is very mysterious," said Edmund, "how are you the cause?" "It is all a mystery to me," replied Julia : "I am a mystery to myself, I know not who I am." "Who you are!" said Edmund in astonishment, "are you not the niece of Mrs. Sinclair?" "I believe myself to be so, but I know not. I have no remembrance of my parents: I am told one yet lives, but I know not where, and I know not which." Tears and sobs choked her utterance. Edmund was affected. He had taken her hand, and pressed it in silence to his heart. "O Julia!" at length he exclaimed, "whoever you are, would that you were mine! This arm should then protect you, this breast should shield you, and I would defend with my from every evil." Julia heard, but doubted the reality of what she heard. She gazed at him in speechless astonishment, and her head sunk on the bosom which seemed her

you

life