By that sin fell the angels; how can man then
(The image of his Maker) hope to win by it?
Corruption gains not more than honesty.
Shakspeare.
Among the victims whom the crimes and fears of Lord Bellingham made supremely wretched, we must rank his amiable and repentant son, who, languishing to cleanse his house from the foul stain of usurpation, had long resolved to do justice to his injured uncle, and to relinquish his surreptitious honours to Eustace, anticipating the friendship of that noble youth, and the hand of Isabel as the best rewards he could receive. No bridal transport, no yearnings of grateful friendship, no cordial thrill of conscious integrity now cheered the gloom of his future prospects. The father had sinned beyond all possibility of the son's atoning for his crimes. Was it possible for Colonel Evellin or Constantia to bear his sight? Could Isabel ever plight her faith to the son of her brother's murderer? These agonizing forebodings were soon confirmed by the receipt of the following letter:—
"Dear Arthur,
"It is impossible for me to leave the secret chamber to bid you farewel. I can sometimes tranquillize my father. I trust in heaven his life will be preserved, and his reason restored. I know you are innocent, and I know too that I shall always love you; but my heart forebodes we must meet no more in this world. I do not bid you forget me—No; I will implore your daily prayers, for I have great need of patience and fortitude. Solicit for me earnestly at the throne of grace, and thus shew your affection to
Isabel Evellin."
"Our sweet Constantia looks like a virgin-martyr, beautiful and resigned. She bids me say she shall always love her kind friend Arthur. Surely you might write to her, and mention what course you mean to pursue."