ense of
self-abasement, as vivid as the moment I first experienced it. But I
must hasten over this. I had been now about six weeks in Sir Harvey's
house, day after day determining on my departure, and invariably
yielding when the time came, to some new request to stay for something
or other--now, a day's fishing on the Nore--now, another morning at the
partridge--then, there was--a boat-race, or a music-party, or a pic-nic,
in fact each day led on to another, and I found myself lingering on,
unable to tear myself from where, I felt, my remaining was ruin.

"At last I made up my mind, and determined, come what would, to take my
leave, never to return. I mentioned to Sir Harvey in the morning that
some matter of importance required my presence in town, and, by a half
promise to spend my Christmas with him, obtained his consent to my
departure.

"We were returning from an evening walk--Miss Blundell was leaning on
my arm--we were the last of the party who, by some chance or other, had
gone forward, leaving us to follow alone. For some time neither of us
spoke: what were her thoughts, I cannot guess: mine were, I acknowledge,
entirely fixed upon the hour I was to see her for the last time, while
I balanced whether I should speak of my approaching departure, or leave
her without even, a 'good-bye.'

"I did not know at the time so well as I now do, how much of the
interest I had excited in her heart depended on the mystery of my life.
The stray hints I now and then dropped--the stories into which I was
occasionally led--the wild scenes and wilder adventures, in which I bore
my part--had done more than stimulate her curiosity concerning me.
This, I repeat, I knew not at the the time, and the secret of my career
weighed like a crime upon my conscience. I hesitated long whether I
should not disclose every circumstance of my life, and, by the avowal
of my utter un-worthiness, repair, as far as might be, the injury I
had done her. Then came that fatal '_amour-propre_' that involved
me originally in the pursuit, and I was silent. We had not been many
minutes thus, when a servant came from the house to inform Miss Blundell
that her cousin, Captain Douglas, had arrived. As she nodded her head in
reply, I perceived the colour mounted to her cheek, and an expression of
agitation passed over her features.

"'Who is Captain Douglas?' said I, without, however, venturing to look
more fully at her.

"'Oh! a cousin, a second or third c