en-hearted into her grave. You, like
all other men, will forget this; but what a warning ought it to be to
you, that sooner or later, guilt will be productive of misery. This you
have fully proved; your licentious conduct with this woman has ruined
her peace for ever, and Divine vengeance has dashed from your lips the
cup which contained as much happiness as this world could afford. Nor
has the penalty fallen on you alone: the innocent, who had no share in
the crime, are partakers in the punishment; we are all as miserable as
yourself. But God's will be done," continued she, as she kissed my
aching forehead, and her tears fell on my face.

How heavenly is the love of a sister towards a brother! Clara was now
everything to me. Having said thus much to me on the subject of my
fault (and it must be confessed that she had not been niggardly in the
article of words), she never named the subject again, but sought by
every means in her power to amuse and to comfort me. She listened to my
exculpation; she admitted that our meeting at Bordeaux was as
unpremeditated as it was unfortunate; she condemned the imprudence of
our travelling together, and still more the choice of a residence for
Eugenia and her son.

Clara's affectionate attention and kind efforts were unavailing. I told
her so, and that all hopes of happiness for me in this world were gone
for ever.

"My dear, dear brother," said the affectionate girl, "answer me one
question. Did you ever pray?"

My answer will pretty well explain to the reader the sort of religion
mine was:--

"Why, Clara," said I, "to tell you the truth, though I may not exactly
pray, as you call it, yet words are nothing. I feel grateful to the
Almighty for his favours when he bestows them on me; and I believe a
grateful heart is all he requires."

"Then, brother, how do you feel when he afflicts you?"

"That I have nothing to thank him for," answered I.

"Then, my dear Frank, that is not religion."

"May be so," said I; "but I am in no humour to feel otherwise at
present; so pray drop the subject."

She burst into tears. "This," said she, "is worse than all. Shall we
receive good from the hand of the Lord, and shall we not receive evil?"

But, seeing that I was in that sullen and untameable state of mind, she
did not venture to renew the subject.

As soon as I was able to quit my room, I had a long conversation with my
father, who, though deeply concerned for my happines