that he had been impelled to it as much by resentment for her supposed partiality for Lord Belmour; an error he had entreated her to pardon, as he could never again fall into a similar mistake.

Fitzormond, who derived the greatest part of his present happiness from the society of his daughter, requested not to be separated from her, but that they might form one family, and reside in the house of his late uncle; an arrangement which was equally agreeable to all. The Countess of Delville, who had taken charge of the infant son of her departed Adelina, rejoiced to have them so near her, that the infant might not be deprived by absence of Louisa's affection and that of his father, which he possessed in the highest degree; neither was his affection or that of his amiable wife's lessened, when she presented him another son within a year after their marriage.

When Louisa and her amiable friend

Mrs. Wilmot met, their felicity was increased by each communicating to the other the happiness of their present state, and anticipating the pleasure it would give them to see their children united; an event which Mrs. Wilmot, whose child was a daughter, declared to be not at all improbable, as, from the affection which subsisted between the parents, the children must necessarily love each other with tenderness from their cradle.

1

Louisa found in her friend the same good-humoured vivacity which she had always possessed in an eminent degree, and which did not detract from her merit as a wife and a mother, as she was also the sensible domesticated being her sister Lady Belmour had described her -virtues which her Ladyship did not wish to attain, and therefore, frequently attempted to ridicule.

Lady Stanley, still attached to fashion

1

her son

able life, found more satisfaction in the society which Lady Belmour collected around her, than she did in that of either or daughter, Mrs. Wilmot. But when, according to annual custom, she took up her residence at Stanley-hall, she pressed them to join her there, they gladly availed themselves of her invitation, as these scenes were endeared to each of her children by some tender remembrances: to Louisa they were particularly dear and affecting; there she had first opened her eyes on the light of day, and for a series of years had enjoyed that soft placid happiness, which is only known in early life; there she had first felt the painful, yet pleasing tumults of virtuous love; there too she had nobly struggled to subdue it, and by the force of reason had conquered. She could now revisit those scenes with a pleasing consciousness of having done her duty; and there acknowledge her

gratitude for having received the reward of her forbearance and submission in the possession of him whom she had tenderly loved, but magnanimously given up, when she believed it more conducive to his welfare that she should.

Another and not less endearing consideration strongly attached her to those venerable shades-there reposed the ashes of her lovely unfortunate mother, together with the respected remains of her who had so ably supplied her place, and whose example as well as precept had taught her to expect happiness: only from a life of virtue. There also rested from his pious labours the guide, preceptor, and friend, to whose admonitions she was indebted for the fortitude and strength of mind she possessed which had enabled her to support the two heaviest ills of life, poverty and unmerited disgrace..

To Fitzormond, no less than to his

daughter, this visit to the hall was attended with remembrances of the most tender nature. The big tear which Louisa saw rush into his eye as they approached the village of M- told the nature of his feelings more forcibly than words could have done.

Without imparting their design to each other, the morning after their arrival, the father and daughter repaired to the sacred spot which contained the remains of what had been so deservedly dear to each.

Actuated by the same feeling, no inquiries were made of each other when they met in the solemn abode of the dead. But kneeling on the hallowed turf, they mutually offered up their prayers to the Disposer of life and death, in whose hands were now the spirits of those they wept over, to whom they humbly hoped to be united, when it should be His good pleasure to remove them from a world,