uture excursions."

Then, rising in his tone, he added, "I am ashamed of you, sir, the son
of a gentleman is not likely to reap any advantage from the society of
strolling vagabonds and prostitutes. I had reason to think, by your
last letters from Portsmouth, that you were very differently employed."

To this very sensible and parental reproof I answered with a demure and
innocent countenance (for I soon regained my presence of mind) that I
did not think there had been any harm in doing that which most of the
officers of the navy did at one time or another (an assertion,
by-the-by, much too general); that we often got up plays on board of
ship, and that I wanted to practise.

"Practise then with your equals," said my father, "not in company with
rogues and street-walkers."

I felt that the latter name was meant for Eugenia, and was very
indignant; but fortunately kept all my anger within board, and, knowing
I was "all in the wrong," allowed my father to fire away without
returning a shot. He concluded his lecture by commanding me to call
upon him the next morning, at ten o'clock, and left me to change my
dress, and to regain my good humour. I need not add that I did not
return to the stage that night, but left the manager to make his peace
with the audience in any way he thought proper.

When I informed Eugenia of the evening's adventure, she was
inconsolable: to comfort her, I offered to give up my family and my
profession, and live with her. At these words Eugenia suddenly
recollected herself. "Frank," said she, "all that has happened is
right. We are both wrong. I felt that I was too happy, and shut my
eyes to the danger I dared not face. Your father is a man of sense; his
object is to reclaim you from inevitable 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 y