vile rumours," said Lady Vernon, "the consequences would be dreadful indeed; her pride and delicacy would be mortally wounded. Oh, my poor, dear, innocent child! in whose pure imagination, a belief, even of the guilt of which she is openly accused, never could find a place against one of her own sex, and to be thus profaned in the eyes of the public!"

Here a paroxysm of tears interrupted the mother; and, as I beheld them chase each other down that venerable, and hitherto calm countenance, where shame had never before brought a blush, I execrated myself.

A note was now delivered to Lady Vernon, and another to her husband. The father reddened to his very brow as he perused it, and anger flashed from his eyes.

"He shall answer for it!" said he, throwing the letter on the table; but at this moment Lady Vernon dropped, fainting, from her chair,

and we both ran to assist her. She soon revived; and, pointing to the letter, begged that the carriage might be immediately ordered.

"We must go for our poor child," said she, turning to Lord Vernon with a look of unutterable anguish ; "the house of Lord Annandale is no longer a befitting abode for her."

"Read these," said Lord Vernon, laying down the note to his wife, and handing both to me. "I will not, Lord Nottingham, so far insult the purity of my injured daughter as to imagine that blame can attach to her; but, with her youth and inexperience, she may, through ignorance of that world into which she was too early thrown, have been neglectful of the appearances which, in the tainted atmosphere of London, are more studied than the reality of virtue. But you, my lord, who knew the danger, surely you have not been so culpable, so cruel towards my daugh

ter and towards us, whom you professed to like, as to have exposed her, by your attentions, to the vile imputations now cast upon her honour? Her unworthy husband-for unworthy he must be, not to have better guarded the treasure we confided to his care, and for believing that

guilt could attach to our child — writes to say that it is his intention to seek legal redress, and that he wishes Lady Annandale to leave his house."

"Let us go immediately for our daughter," said Lady Vernon; and she rang the bell impatiently, to order her carriage.

I glanced my eye over the letters, scarcely conscious that I had not even attempted an answer to Lord Vernon. What answer could I make, overpowered as I was with the oppressive weight of regret for the injury I had inflicted on their daughter, and on them? Annandale's letter was cool and collected, con

taining only a few lines, stating his intentions nearly in the words that Lord Vernon had repeated. Lady Annandale's note was nearly obliterated by tears, and ran nearly as followsfor every line of it is imprinted on my memory:

"Mother, dear mother! I am accused of a crime of deep die. Your child is disgraced and dishonoured; but you will not believe her guilty, though all the world beside may condemn her. If I fancied you or my father could for a moment imagine me guilty, even in thought, of the crime with which I am charged, I could not live. Why, why did I ever abandon you? I am all bewildered, and have but one feeling, one wish left; and that is, to quit this hateful roof, and (die had been written, and then half defaced) return with you to the home of my infancy-there to hide myself from the shame that has seared my

very soul, and destroyed for ever the peace of AUGUSTA."

your

And all this was my work! Oh, Mordaunt, to what fearful results does the indulgence of selfishness lead!

"You will feel the propriety, my lord," said Lord Vernon, gravely, but more in sorrow than in anger, " of our avoiding all intercourse with you for the future."

I attempted to utter something, but he stopped me; and, waving his hand, begged me to remember, that to him no exculpation of the honour of his child was necessary, because he never could doubt it. I felt that I ought to withdraw, and left their presence, writhing under the consciousness that I had inflicted the deepest wound on their peace, and destroyed the reputation and happiness of her who is dearer to me, a thousand times, than life itself. I am wretched, my dear Mor