CHAPTER XXI.

THE following day Lefevre had set apart for a visit to Miss D; and, having made needful arrangements, he started with the sun to fulfil his intention. It was a fine autumnal morning; and, with a heart full of gratified love, he was in a condition to enjoy it. He thought the sun shone brighter than usual; and he drank in, with peculiar relish, the fine bracing air, that was stirring amongst the Surry and Kentish hills. Every object in nature wore a smiling aspect to him, and seemed inviting him back to his long lost pleasures. In present enjoyment, he for a moment forgot the slackened pace of his horse; and, then recollecting himself, clapped his spurs to its side, to hasten him to the object, who had insensibly given a charm to every thing. Lefevre had often pressed the nomination of a day for completing his connection with Miss

D; and he now visited her with a good hope of success at least, he determined to carry the point if possible.

With such determination on his lips, Lefevre arrived at the residence of his friend. But alas! his attention was soon called off from the flattering purpose he had been cherishing. He looked towards the parlour window as he dismounted, for the countenance which generally greeted him no countenance was there; though he had sent information of his coming. He entered the house with trepidation, and passed into the parlour. No one appeared

but the servant.

"Where is Miss D-?" said he.

"In her room I believe Sir," was the reply, as the servant closed the door.

Lefevre walked up and down the room-he was too uneasy to sit. In a few minutes the grand-mother came in. He hastened to her with his usual salutations. With a disturbed air, she retreated a step to avoid them, and spoke not.

"Oh! madam,” cried Lefevre," what does this mean?-pray tell me?"

"Ah! Charles," said she with pity in her voice. Theu suppressing her feeling, continued," Mary sends you this note and parcel, and begs you to excuse seeing her."

This sentence fell like lead on the heart of Lefevre. Agitated as he was he threw himself into a chair, that stood near; and burst the seal of the letter to assure himself of the contents. It was, however, some time before he could read it-his eyes were so dizzy; and after reading it several times, he could not comprebend it--his senses were so confused. He sat with it in his hand in a state of stupor. At length he passed over its contents with more composure. They were as follows:

"With this note I return to Mr. Lefevre his letter of yesterday," and those of every former date. The period is come at which our correspondence must cease for ever. To enter on the reasons of my conduct would be only to reproach you, and this

I will not do. Alas! you must suffer too much from the reproaches of your own conscience. Do me the justice, however, to think, that I am not actuated by caprice and resentment. I assure you the step I have taken is both deliberative and decisive. I have acted under a sense of duty, and directly against the dictates of feeling; and I am conscious of doing right, while I am pained in doing it.

"But the more I write the more I shall distress you. My grand-mother, who has kindly consented to give you this, will answer any question you may think necessary; but the less said on the subject the better. Think no more of me, or of our intercourse, except as it may have an influence in fixing you in the paths of virtue. O, Charles, this is the last letter I shall ever write you! Lost as you are to me, be not lost to yourself-lost to the innocent delights which Providence has so bountifully placed within our reach! Adieu! Adieu!

"To Mr. Lefevre."

"MARY D."

Lefevre concluded from this letter that Miss D had been informed of his past errors in conduct, and that Simpkins had been the informant. He also allowed himself to think, that the circumstances had been aggravated, and that Miss Dhad formed her purpose on a supposition that he continued in the practice of evils which belonged to a past period. Full of this hope, he flew to her venerable relative, who had seated herself at the other extrémity of the room, exclaiming-" Oh madam, there must be some mistake here! Simpkins has maligned me”

"No, Charles, I fear not," replied she, with serious concern.

My daughter and myself were too reluctant to believe any thing against you, to listen to the tongue of malice. Mr. Simpkins, indeed, did send us a long account of your past life, and it gave us uneasiness; but we thought it might arise-wicked man!-wholly from his resentment; and if not, that it was greatly exaggerated. I felt it my duty to be fully satisfied on the subject, and I am grieved to say, it is but too true. There,