evitable ruin. As for me, if he
knew of our connection, he could only despise me. He sees his son
living with strolling players; and it is his duty to cut the chain, no
matter by what means. You have an honourable and distinguished career
marked out for you; I will never be an obstacle to your father's just
ambition or your prosperity. I did hope for a happier destiny; but
love blinded my eyes: I am now undeceived. If your father cannot
respect me, he shall at least admire the resolution of the unhappy
Eugenia. I have tenderly loved you, my dearest Frank, and never have
loved any other, nor ever shall; but part we must: Heaven only knows
for how long a time. I am ready to make every sacrifice to your fame
and character--the only proof I can give of my unbounded love for
you."

I embraced her as she uttered these words; and we spent a great part
of the night in making preparations for my departure, arrangements for
our future correspondence, and, if possible, for our future meetings.
I left her early on the following morning; and with a heavy, I had
almost said, a broken heart, appeared before my father. He was, no
doubt, aware of my attachment and the violence of my passions, and
prudently endeavoured to soothe them. He received me affectionately,
did not renew the subject of the preceding night, and we became very
good friends.

In tearing myself away from Eugenia, I found the truth of the French
adage, "_Ce n'est que la premiere pas qui coute_;" my heart grew
lighter as I increased my distance from her. My father, to detach my
mind still more from the unfortunate subject, spoke much of family
affairs, of my brother and sisters, and lastly named Mr Somerville and
Emily: here he touched on the right chord. The remembrance of Emily
revived the expiring embers of virtue; and the recollection of the
pure and perfect mistress of ---- Hall, for a time, dismissed the
unhappy Eugenia from my mind. I told my father that I would engage
never to disgrace him or myself any more, if he would promise not to
name my late folly to Mr Somerville or his daughter.

"That," said my father, "I promise most readily; and with the greater
pleasure, since I see, in your request, the strongest proof of the
sense of your error."

This conversation passed on our road to Portsmouth, where we had
no sooner arrived than my father, who was acquainted with the
port-admiral, left me at the "George," while he crossed the street to
call on him. The