CHAP. VI.

"Some say, no evil thing that walks by night,
In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen,

Blue meagre hag, or stubborn uulaid ghost,
That breaks his magic chains at curfew time,
No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine,
Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
Do you believe me yet? or shall I call
Antiquity, from the old schools of Greece,
To testify the arms of chastity?"

MILTON.

“BUT, but,” added Elizabeth, in the same faltering voice in which she had expressed her acquiescence to his wishes, "I-I should like to have"›

"What, my angel?" finding she paused, eagerly demanded the enamoured Eaton, as he hung over her. "Speak your wishes freely; for if wealth can enable you to gratify them, they shall be gratified."

"To have an effort made to overrule my father and mother's objections to being present at the ceremony," languidly returned Elizabeth.

"Then I will go myself directly to Heathwood, and see what I can do to prevail on them to come hither."

Elizabeth bowed her thanks; and passionately kissing her fair hand, Eaton withdrew, to set out as he said on his journey to Heathwood.

Disturbed, distressed, in an agony of mind, in short, to which no language could do justice, Elizabeth would have retired to her chamber the moment he was gone, but that she apprehended she should offend Mrs. Elford by doing so. Of the absence of Eaton this lady took advantage, to expatiate on his pleasing manners, the many amiable qualities he appeared possessed of, and the consequent happiness Elizabeth must experience with a man so every way worthy of her, and possessed besides of a fortune adequate to commanding every enjoyment, every luxury this life could

afford; in short, she said whatever she deemed likely to dispel the cloud which, it did not require her penetration to perceive, hung upon the beauteous brow of Elizabeth, plainly evincing her heart took no pleasure in the prospect before her, all dazzling and glittering as it was.

Never, indeed, had she known what real wretchedness was till the present moment, when she found herself on the point of being united to a man for whom she no longer felt a sentiment of regard. So agonizing was the idea of this union to her, that, more than once, she was tempted to decide on retracting her consent to it, but was still prevented, by the consideration of the disappointment such a measure would be productive of to her father, and the derogatory light in which it must make her character appear: but her thoughts were not entirely occupied by herselfwhat Delacour felt at the failure of his scheme relative to her, engrossed them not a little.

About sunset Mr, Eaton returned, but

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unaccompanied by her parents. They could not prevail upon themselves he said, to come into the neighbourhood of Glengary-"I trust, however," he added, “you will not suffer yourself to be much vexedby their refusal, particularly when you reflect, than in a day or two you'll join them again at Heathwood."

Elizabeth, however, could not help bitterly regretting their refusal to come, as she fancied she should have derived both support and consolation from their presence.

Like the mail, it being our intention to proceed as expeditiously as possible, well knowing that tedious books, like tedious journeys, are fatiguing in the extreme, we shall never follow any of our characters into the closet, for the purpose of detailing their soliloquies, apostrophes, or private cogitations, except when we see an absolute necessity for doing so, in order to elucidate some particular circumstance; we shall now, therefore, in pursuance of the above determination, content ourselves with merely saying, that Elizabeth, on

the morning destined to give her to Mr. Eaton, appeared with a countenance melancholy but calm, an eye downcast, but unmoistened by a tear.

Mrs. Elford had made it a point that the ceremony should be performed in a consecrated place; accordingly, an old ruined chapel, a few furlongs from the house, and sunk in a deep hollow, amidst rude rocky mountains, was the one fixed on for the purpose.

The moment breakfast was over, the impatient lover arose, for the purpose of conducting his bride thither. She involuntarily recoiled as he approached to take her hand, but, almost instantly recollecting herself, suffered him to do so, without any further manifestation of reluctance. They were attended by Mrs. Elford, the clergyman, and another gentleman to act the part of nuptial father.

The wild and mournful solitude of the chapel, the desolation every where conspicuous in it, aggravated the feelings, and rendered still more chilling the sensations