Margaret sprang to her feet with astonishment and emotion. 'Is it possible!—have I then the pleasure to see—I am sure—I am most fortunate—' again and again began Margaret, and gave way to an honest flood of tears. I felt that I had placed her in an embarrassing situation. Seating myself, therefore, by her, and taking her hand,—'Margaret,' I said, 'I fear I have been somewhat abrupt with you. Forgive me if I have been too bold in thus foreing on you the history of one for whom I have little reason and less right to suppose you still interested. Bury in oblivion some passages in it, and forgive the biographer if he have expanded a little too freely on feelings which may be unaeceptable to your ear.' I stretched out my hand as I spoke, and we warmly shook hands, as two old friends in the first moment of meeting.
I had been longing to know somewhat of Margaret's own history—-wherefore she had visited Malta, &c.; but sho seemed to have no intention of gratifying my eurosity, and I only too feelingly divined that her parent's altered circumstances had sent her out the humble companion of the Countess of Falcondale 'I am aware,' I said, smiling, 'that I have more than one old acquaintance in this vessel; and, in truth, when I heard that my former friend—I had nearly said enemy—the Countess of Falcondale, was on board, I felt half-inclined to relinquish the voyage.' Margaret hesitated—then said, half-smiling, half-sad, 'I cannot autobiographise as my friend has done. But—but—perhaps you heard of tho unhappy state of my dear parent's affairs and his daughter was prevailed on to take a step—perhaps a false one. Well, well, I cannot tell my history. Peaee be with the dead!—every filial, every conjugal feeling consecrate their ashes!—but make yourself easy; my mother-in-law is not here. You will find but one dowager-countess in this vessel, and she now shakes your hand, and bids you a good night.' Margaret hastily disappeared as she spoke, and left me in state—but I will teaze no one with my half-dream like feelings on that night.
Well, I failed not to visit my noble fellow-passenger on the morrow; and day after day, while we lay on those becalmed waves, I renewed my intercourse with Margaret. It can easily be divined that she had given her hand to save a parent, and that she had come abroad with a husband, who, dying, had there left her a widow, and, alas for me! a rich widow. If limits would allow, I could tell a long tale of well-managed treachery and deception; how the ill-natured eountess suffered me to remain in the belief that the death of Captain Cameron's niece, which occurred at A———, was that of my
