on a Mrs. Churchill, an old friend, and distant connexion of our family. I was received with great hospitality; and, liking the neighbourhood, accepted her invitation for a more lengthened visit. I soon lingered there from another motive. I became attached to her grandaughter; and Lady Marchmont, just then married, was the intimate friend of Miss Churchill, and was aware of my affection even before its object. I left, bound by no engagement, as I wished to consult my mother. Lady Marchmont considers my conduct most unjust, what, alas! it was to Ethel—Miss Churchill, I mean,—and resents it for her friend's sake. I have made no inquiries—I never shall. The very sorrow I may have inflicted on one woman, will make me doubly anxious to guard it from another. The happiness of Constance is to me the most sacred thing in the world. What, in this case, would you advise me to do?"
Lord Norbourne was silent, for he was touched to the heart: at last his voice became sufficiently steady to reply. "To do nothing: leave it to Constance's own good sense to dis-
