s in consequence of a strong effort, "that perhaps may
expose me to censure in your eyes--But I have long permitted you to use
the language of friendship--perhaps I might say more--too long to leave
you when the world seems to have left you. How, or why, is this
imprisonment? what can be done? can my uncle, who thinks so highly of
you--can your own kinsman, Milnwood, be of no use? are there no means?
and what is likely to be the event?"

"Be what it will," answered Henry, contriving to make himself master of
the hand that had escaped from him, but which was now again abandoned to
his clasp, "be what it will, it is to me from this moment the most
welcome incident of a weary life. To you, dearest Edith--forgive me, I
should have said Miss Bellenden, but misfortune claims strange
privileges--to you I have owed the few happy moments which have gilded a
gloomy existence; and if I am now to lay it down, the recollection of
this honour will be my happiness in the last hour of suffering."

"But is it even thus, Mr Morton?" said Miss Bellenden. "Have you, who
used to mix so little in these unhappy feuds, become so suddenly and
deeply implicated, that nothing short of"--

She paused, unable to bring out the word which should have come next.

"Nothing short of my life, you would say?" replied Morton, in a calm, but
melancholy tone; "I believe that will be entirely in the bosoms of my
judges. My guards spoke of a possibility of exchanging the penalty for
entry into foreign service. I thought I could have embraced the
alternative; and yet, Miss Bellenden, since I have seen you once more, I
feel that exile would be more galling than death."

"And is it then true," said Edith, "that you have been so desperately
rash as to entertain communication with any of those cruel wretches who
assassinated the primate?"

"I knew not even that such a crime had been committed," replied Morton,
"when I gave unhappily a night's lodging and concealment to one of those
rash and cruel men, the ancient friend and comrade of my father. But my
ignorance will avail me little; for who, Miss Bellenden, save you, will
believe it? And, what is worse, I am at least uncertain whether, even if
I had known the crime, I could have brought my mind, under all the
circumstances, to refuse a temporary refuge to the fugitive."

"And by whom," said Edith, anxiously, "or under what authority, will the
investigation of your conduct take place?"

"Under that of Colon