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completely overcome. Her hand, therefore, rested unresistingly in his, she being perfectly unconscious that he had taken it. She instantly withdrew it as thought returned. The color, which had completely left her, now came back. The thought that she could never return his offered affection, mingled with some feelings of anger at his boldness, caused the warm blood to course more swiftly though her veins, spreading over her brow the marks of distress and anxiety. Leaving the seat, she exclaimed:

“I will return, Mr. Mordaunt."

“Pardon me, Miss Mortimer, if I have offended you. The deep"

“I can listen no more in this place, sir," interrupted Bell.

“May I then hope ?”

"Pardon me, Mr. Mordaunt; but I must command your silence upon this subject. It is my wish that we immediately return."

“Let me call a carriage ; I see an empty one,” said Mordaunt.

“Thank you, sir, I will ride.”

The sun for some time had been beneath the horizon. The gathering darkness, as she stepped into the carriage, seemed to Bell Mortimer as an evil omen.

She was not one to give way to such feelings upon slight cause ; but the darkness which now filled her soul, awoke an indescribable fear; and the remembrance that “coming events often cast their shadows before,” mingled with the loud roaring of the falls, caused her to tremble. “What should I fear?” she asked herself.

- This must be woman's weakness. I must tell him I cannot love him, and that will end it."

Several times, during the ride to the hotel, she essayed to speak her decision. A fear, of which she was herself ashamed, controlled her, and she postponed the subject for the morrow. Language almost refuses terms to describe the anguish of spirit which accompanied Bell that nigiit to her pillow. She feared Mordaunt. But, why? This question was ever present. About an hour before daybreak, she fell into a troubled sleep, only to awaken in a short time, from a horrid dream which pictured her as praying that she might die. Earth appeared no longer to hold any joy for her—death had become her only hope for release. On awakening, the poor girl burst into tears; and for the first time, her cousin Clara, who occupied the same bed, noticed her unhappiness.

“Dear, dear Bell, what has caused you to weep?" said Clara.

Gently twining her arms around Bell, Clara pressed her soft cheek against her cousin's, endeavoring to soothe and comfort her.

“Clara, I am very weak!” said Bell; but the burning tears fell thicker and faster.

“Do tell me what makes you weep, dear Bell? I cannot endure this suspense.”

Bell now arose. Hastily putting on a morning dress, she threw herself again into her cousin's arms, and told her all the events of the day previous.

Clara listened with a painfully intense interest to all she had to say.

What shall I do? I do not--I cannot love him; and yet why this fear? What is it, Clara, that frightens me so ?”

“I do not know, unless it is a warning to you of the future. Oh,” thought Clara, “my dear, dear, cousin, if I dared but to reveal ”

She was about to speak, but at this instant there was a knock upon the door, and Clara's mother was admitted to the room. Bell turned to her toilet to hide her feelings from her aunt.

“Come, girls, we are all ready for a walk. Frederick and Mr. Mordaunt are waiting for you. Your father and mother, Bell, have been up this half hour. The morning has put on all the glories of an Italian sky. A walk will soon adorn your faces. Come down quickly. No loitering."

The morning walk-An Old Friend in Duplicate.

“Good morning, Mr. Griswold. You here at the Falls! This is really a pleasure I had not credited in your favor, sir!” and “Uncle Harry” continued for some little time shaking warmly by the hånd the young gentleman, already pretty well known to the reader, “Thomas Griswold.” “When did you arrive? Are you directly from New York? How is my old friend who owns you for his boy?”

These, and numerous other questions of similar import, were rattled off in “Uncle Harry’s” businesslike way, giving Griswold no opportunity to answer any of them. Griswold was taken by surprise, as well as filled with real pleasure. He had known Mr. Edgemonte from his boyhood as an intimate friend of his father. They were often connected in business operations, which frequently brought Mr. E- to his father's house of late years, Mr. Griswold having retired from the more active scenes of trade.

“Mr. Edgemonte,” replied Griswold, “I rejoice greatly at this opportune meeting. I hail, however, from College; not from New York."

Rusticating, I hope; not rusticated," and Uncle Harry laughed at his own wit.

“The former, I assure you; and, if it needs proof, here is a college chum of mine, whom I beg leave to introduce to you. He will testify in my favor.”

“Certainly, Thomas, certainly! by all means introduce us.'

." “Mr. Edgemonte, my friend, Mr. Melville. Mr. Melville, Mr. Edgemonte.”

“Happy to make your acquaintance, sir. We are very well met. You and Clara, I believe, are old friends, Mr. Griswold. Mr. Mordaunt is with us: and I think I can introduce you to somebody who will set your young blood in a fever. Clara, I know, has told you often about Cousin Bell."

“Why, really you have got a party with you, Mr. Edgemonte. George, we may as well put on our happiest smiles instead of those blues you talked about at daybreak. But we are detaining you, Mr. Edgemonte."

Thus Griswold replied, feeling quite proud of the necessities with which fortune seemed to have presented him.

“No! no! no detention,” replied Mr. Edgemonte. “On the contrary, I shall make a contract that both of you breakfast with me. They are all within trumpet-call, taking a morning view of the Falls. We have an exclusive breakfast at the Cataract House at eight. It is my arrangement, and, therefore, the pleasure of an old friend's boy cannot but be allowable. Mr. Melville is welcome, too; for, if he is a chip off the old block, I know more of him than he thinks.”

Melville looked up in surprise, awaiting an explanation of this singular remark. He had always been told from infancy that he was the perfect picture of

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