no means indifferent to her who had continued to possess his whole affections. These nascent hopes rapidly expanded as he referred to the letter in which she had rejected his suit, for he could not but feel that circumstances were now materially altered, and that some of the impediments to their union, which were then deemed insuperable, had been removed altogether, while others were considerably modified. Lucy was married, and her residence at Brookshaw now pleaded in his favour; the difficulties that bore reference to the father and aunt Patty were certainly not invincible, since he was most ready to receive them as inmates at the Lodge; and as to his gloomy superstitious views on the subject of man's destiny, both here and hereafter, they were happily eradicated from his mind, which was henceforward open to a participation in her own enviable cheerfulness. Urged by these considerations, and by a daily and hourly increasing love, which told him that Chritty Norberry had now become absolutely indispensable to the permanent establishment of his happiness, he resolved upon again

making her a tender of his hand, grounding his importunity on the changes to which we have referred. Natural diffidence, the awkwardness of presenting himself a second time as a suitor, and the fear of disturbing an intercourse in which he found so keen a delight, and which he might be assured of retaining if he would consent to sink the lover in the friend, withheld him from again formally declaring himself, until an occurrence took place which completely satisfied him as to the state of Chritty's affections, and brought affairs to an issue much more rapidly than he had anticipated.

As he was about to leave the house one morning he received the following letter by the post :

"Infatuated man, once more beware! Though you know it not, I have been watching your footsteps with the friendly intention of saving you from ruin. I find you have renewed your attentions to Miss Norberry, notwithstanding my former caution. Again do

I warn you against her delusions. She is deceiving you, even as you were deceived at Cambridge; she is attached to another, with whom she has lately had several clandestine interviews. If you will not trust my assertions, believe at least the evidence of your own Station yourself this night at the back of Maple Hatch, towards ten o'clock, and you will see her lover escape from the window of the little china-closet, which is their place of assignation. Seek not to discover the writer of this letter; he is your friend, but he is, and ever will be,

senses.

"AN UNKNOWN."

On the perusal of the former calumnious attack upon Christiana, Middleton had burst into an indignant and ungovernable rage; but this second scrawl, though it advanced still graver and more circumstantial criminations against her, was read over with such a thorough conviction of its atrocious falsehood, that it only inspired him with a contemptuous loathing for the wretch who had penned it.

His faith in Chritty's truth and purity was too deeply rooted in his soul to be shaken even for an instant, and, however he might regret the confirmation that some secret villain was still conspiring both against her happiness and his own, he was not sorry that his charges had at length assumed a tangible shape, and that he had named the hour and the spot where, if he attempted to substantiate them, either by himself or his confederates, he might be detected, seized, and forced to confess the motives of his malignity. For this crisis and consummation Middleton had been longing with an intense curiosity, sharpened by a feeling of self-preservation; for, as he knew that some deadly enemy was plotting against his life, he was naturally anxious to free himself from a predicament which oppressed though it could not intimidate his heart. Hargrave had recommended him to go always armed, but this counsel he had rejected, observing that he had rather meet death at once, than die every day by living in the constant dread of it.

On comparing this letter with the previous

one, it was found to be in a different handwriting, though he had no doubt it had been dictated by the same party, as was indeed sufficiently intimated by its contents, and the reference to the love-affair at Cambridge. From the writer's confession that he had been watching his footsteps, he concluded him to be the person whom Hargrave and himself had chased in the plantations, circumstances which only whetted his anxiety to dispel the mystery that surrounded him, and terminate a state of suspense so painful to himself and his friends. Should he, or should he not, communicate to Hargrave the letter he had received? This was a question which kept him for some time irresolute, though he finally decided in the negative, from a lurking suspicion that the whole story might possibly have been trumped up for no other purpose than to decoy him into some ambush, to which he was too generous to expose a friend whose life was so precious, and whose profession exonerated him from sharing a night enterprise of this questionable character: With the jealousy of a