And here let me pause, Miss Ashburn, to remark how strongly I discovered in her mind I had pictured and panted to possess. When I first approached her in the wood, tottering under a hermit's disguise, I could perceive, as it were, her collecting spirits embody themselves to repel my fraud. 'It matters little to me,' said she, 'who or what you are, since I well know you cannot be what you would seem.' Conscious rectitude forbade her to fear me,—it forbade her to mix me with her ideas in one shape—all her all prevalent love forbade it in another.—I saw her once—when the time, the place, the circumstance would have appalled me into agony! When, unseen, I echoed her bursting sigh, from behind the monument, I saw her a moment mute with surprise, then, call into her mien a dignity so firm so undaunted, that it might have spoken lessons to a hero.

After Miss Valmont left me in the armoury, I waited another hour; and assuring myself, from the still silence that prevailed, my passage was undiscovered, I returned to my cell, which I believe none had entered since I quitted. The succeeding night I revisited farmer Richardson's.

John Thomas, ever delighted to talk, came on me open-mouthed, with a tale newly brought from the castle: namely, that Miss Valmont had seen and spoken with the hermit's ghost in the wood.

And next, Madam, to prevent suspicion and enquiry, I deemed it proper to join you and my uncle's party at Bath. There, in the midst of the crowds, was I alone. I saw but one form. I heard but one voice. I began to despise Montgomery; to assure myself, against conviction, that she did not could not love him; and had promised my heart I know not what of success and felicity when—the contrast past; his letter came; and I, in the saloon, in your presence, before a crowd of witnesses, behaved like a fool and a madman. Pardon, Miss Ashburn, in consideration of my despair, any surprise or shock my conduct gave you. Never can you know what were the feelings of that night. Love had no concern therewith. It was a night of hatred, revenge and rage.

Adieu, Madam. I have filled up the last space of my paper, and my narrative must rest till I return to the farm.

The blessings of an uncorrupted mind ever, ever, be your possession.

A. MURDEN


LETTER VI

FROM THE SAME—TO THE SAME