ty apart, mingled in peril and
became one. Minutes rolled on, and the great waves came dashing round
them. They stood on the loftiest eminence they could reach. The spray
broke over their feet: the billows rose--rose--they were speechless. He
thought he heard her heart beat, but her lip trembled not. A
speck--a boat! "Look up, Emily! look up! See how it cuts the waters.
Nearer--nearer! but a little longer, and we are safe. It is but a
few yards off;--it approaches--it touches the rock!" Ah! what to them
henceforth was the value of life, when the moment of discovering its
charm became also the date of its misfortunes, and when the death
they had escaped was the only method of cementing their--union without
consummating their guilt?

FROM ERASMUS FALKLAND, ESQ., TO THE HON. FREDERICK MONKTON.

I will write to you at length to-morrow. Events have occurred to alter,
perhaps, the whole complexion of the future. I am now going to Emily to
propose to her to fly. We are not _les gens du monde_, who are ruined by
the loss of public opinion. She has felt that I can be to her far more
than the world; and as for me, what would I not forfeit for one touch of
her hand?

EXTRACTS FROM THE JOURNAL OF LADY EMILY MANDEVILLE.

Friday.--Since I wrote yesterday in these pages the narrative of our
escape, I have done nothing but think over those moments, too dangerous
because too dear; but at last I have steeled my heart--I have yielded
to my own weakness too long--I shudder at the abyss from which I have
escaped. I can yet fly. He will come here to-day--he shall receive my
farewell.

Saturday morning, four o'clock.--I have sat in this room alone since
eleven o'clock. I cannot give vent to my feelings; they seem as if
crushed by some load from which it is impossible to rise. "He is gone,
and for ever!" I sit repeating those words to myself, scarcely conscious
of their meaning. Alas! when to-morrow comes, and the next day, and the
next, and yet I see him not, I shall awaken, indeed, to all the agony of
my loss! He came here--he saw me alone--he implored me to fly. I did not
dare to meet his eyes; I hardened my heart against his voice. I knew the
part I was to take--I have adopted it; but what struggles, what misery,
has it not occasioned me! Who could have thought it had been so hard
to be virtuous! His eloquence drove me from one defence to another,
and then I had none but his mercy. I opened my heart--I showed him its
weakness