hild--she calls
me, and I cannot stay." Nor did he long.

To none else did her father that night reveal the purport of this
singular disclosure, except to Mrs. Sinclair herself--but the next
morning before breakfast, the secret had been made known to the rest.
All trouble and difficulty, as to the conduct they should pursue, were
removed in consequence of Osborne's intention to ask his father to
sanction their attachment, and until the consequence of that step should
be known, nothing further on their part could be attempted. On this
point, however, they were not permitted to remain long in suspense,
for ere two o'clock that day, Mr. Osborne had, in the name of his son,
proposed for the hand of our fair girl, which proposal we need scarcely
say was instantly and joyfully accepted. It is true, their immediate
union was not contemplated. Both were much too youthful and
inexperienced to undertake the serious duties of married life, but it
was arranged that Osborne, whose health, besides, was not sufficiently
firm, should travel, see the world, and strengthen his constitution by
the genial air of a warmer and more salubrious climate.

Alas! why is it that the sorrows of love are far sweeter than its joys?
We do not mean to say that our young hero and heroine, if we may presume
so to call them, were insensible to this lapse of serene delight which
now opened upon them. No--the happiness they enjoyed was indeed such
as few taste in such a world as this is. Their attachment was now
sanctioned by all their mutual friends, and its progress was unimpeded
by an scruple arising from clandestine intercourse, or a breach of duty.
But, with secrecy, passed away those trembling snatches of unimaginable
transport which no state of permitted love has ever yet known. The
stolen glance, the passing whisper, the guarded pressure of the soft
white hand timidly returned, and the fearful rapture of the hurried
kiss--alas! alas!--and alas! for the memory of Eloiza!

Time passed, and the preparations necessary for Osborne's journey
were in fact nearly completed. One day, about a fortnight before his
departure, he and Jane were sitting in a little ozier summer-house in
Mr. Sinclair's garden, engaged in a conversation more tender than usual,
for each felt their love deeper and their hearts sink as the hour of
separation approached them. Jane's features exhibited such a
singular union of placid confidence and melancholy, as gave something
Madonn