and he, too, gazed upon it. Alice remarked with bitterness, how full of melancholy love was that long and silent gaze. The rest of the walk was passed in grave silence, until the stately trees of Cunnington Park appeared in view, then, turning towards her companion, Alice timidly asked him to notice the golden rays of the sun streaming between the branches; "Does it not make us think of God, that glorious sun!" she added. "And do we not then lament our weakness?" continued Cunnington, sadly. "But why give way to that weakness, Cunnington? Now-now that I am nothing to you, now that you can look upon me with cool feelings, and think of me as one of the many who form our acquaintances through life, I may speak to you as I should not have dared under other circumstances. Stop, Cunnington, do not walk so you fast; you will avoid me afterwards, and I dare not lose this opportunity. Let me tell you all I think of you; let me tell you, yours is not a common mind, it is not capable of stooping to vice, without feeling the most acute pangs of wounded pride. Say, how shall you feel when the world points at and calls out shame! Where shall you hide yourself, when you are shunned as the destroyer of earthly bonds, the leveller of a husband's happiness? Now go, and sin if you can do it, with your eyes open, with the sound of my warning voice still echoing in your ears. I have had strength to show you the precipice, fall headlong into it now if you will." Cunnington seized the young girl's hand; for a moment it trembled in his own, but she quickly withdrew: what right had innocence to repose in the possession of one harbouring passions so stormy? As she timidly withdrew her hand, what a gush of past tenderness flitted by; the recollection of the first time her eyes had met Cunnington's, and mutely acknowledged that she loved; now she had but one wish, to hear him say he would cease to entertain evil thoughts-she could not understand his silence. "Will you not make me less wretched ?" she cried; "will you not tell me you will think of better things?" "I will try," said Cunnington, after a pause. "Thank you! thank you! oh, I will pray for you! I will believe you, Cunnington; and now rest assured your secret is safe : yet, could you confide in your mother, you would feel so much good from her gentle persuasion." "No, no, no!" said Cunnington; " she may be gentle to you, sweet girl, to me she is stern; she has every right to be so. But the struggle is coming on; I must, if possible, pass the Rubicon, and I shall be safe. I will seriously apply myself to higher things." Oh! such a sense of joyousness pervaded Alice's heart as she heard these words; not one selfish thought was there; no mortal feeling could ever be purer, more devoted, more true. Silly Cunnington-to throw aside the love of such a heart! so full of tender and passionate feelings, tempered into feminine softness by the power of a well regulated mind. CHAPTER XX. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, A great sized monster of ingratitudes! Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done. Perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright; to have done, is to hang, Quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail, In monumental mockery. Troilus and Cressida. Lady Cunnington was too much occupied with the care of her husband to give much attention to the young people; if she had enjoyed more leisure she would soon have perceived that something was amiss; but Lord Cunnington continued in a very dangerous state, and the supposed betrothed |