thin, and confidence has left me. Let me see her mother
first. My cruelty to her has been mixed with kindness, and she may give
me some heart."

And he turned to the apartment where the mother sat.

"Your confidence will not be restored by anything the mother can say!"
rejoined Pringle, who was getting alarmed for the success of his
efforts. "Alice is now mistress here, and must be won by contrition, and
a prayer for forgiveness."

"Ho!" interjected Wallace. "To what tends this mummery? Must I take you
by the hand, and lead you to one who, for years, has seen you in every
flitting shade of the hills, and heard you in every note of the sighing
winds of the valley?"

"To hate me as I deserve to be hated!" replied Hayston, still
irresolute. "None of you can give me any ground for hope, and seem to
push me on to experience a rejection which may seal my misery for ever!"

Wallace smiled in silence, beckoned Pringle into the room beside the
mother, and taking Hayston by the arm, with a show of humour that
accorded but indifferently with the real anguish of doubt and dismay by
which the young man's mind was occupied, forced him on to the first step
of the inside stair.

"You are now fairly committed!" said he, smiling; "to retreat, is ruin;
to advance, happiness, and love, and peace."

And he retreated to the room where Pringle was, leaving the youth to the
strength or weakness of his own resolution. His tread was now heard,
slow and hesitating, on the stair. Some time elapsed before the sound of
the opening door was heard; and that it remained for a time open, held
by the doubtful hand, might also have been observed. At last it was
shut; and quick steps on the floor indicated that the first look had not
been fraught with rejection.

The party below were, meanwhile, speculating on the result of the
meeting. Even the mother was not certain that it would, at first, be
attended with success. Alice had yielded no consent; and it was only
from the mother's construction of her looks, that she had given her
authority for the interview.

"All is now decided, for good or evil," said Wallace. "Go up stairs, and
bring us a report of the state of affairs."

The mother obeyed; and, after a considerable time, returned, with her
eyes swimming in tears.

"Is it so?" said her friend. "Is it really so? Has all my labour been
fruitless?"

"No," replied she; "but I could not stand the sight. I found her lying
on the breast of Hect