of the husband of Mary
Westbrook. He consented to Sarah's marriage with William Elton, and
offered a liberal dowry on the condition that she should yield to the
wish of Elton himself, an adventurous young man, who desired to try his
fortunes in the New World. His daughter he must remove elsewhere.

While this was going on, Alice's child, long delicate and drooping,
became seriously ill. Symptoms of decline appeared; the physician
recommended a milder air, and Devonshire was suggested. Nothing could
equal the generous, the fatherly kindness which Templeton evinced on
this most painful occasion. He insisted on providing Alice with the
means to undertake the journey with ease and comfort; and poor Alice,
with a heart heavy with gratitude and sorrow, consented for her child's
sake to all he offered.

Now the banker began to perceive that all his hopes and wishes were in
good train. He foresaw that the child of Alice was doomed!--that was one
obstacle out of the way. Alice herself was to be removed from the sphere
of her humble calling. In a distant county she might appear of better
station, and under another name. Conformably to these views, he
suggested to her that, in proportion to the seeming wealth and
respectability of patients, did doctors attend to their complaints. He
proposed that Alice should depart privately to a town many miles off;
that there he would provide for her a carriage, and engage a servant;
that he would do this for her as for a relation, and that she should
take that relation's name. To this, Alice rapt in her child, and
submissive to all that might be for the child's benefit, passively
consented. It was arranged then as proposed, and under the name of
Cameron, which, as at once a common yet a well-sounding name, occurred
to his invention, Alice departed with her sick charge and a female
attendant (who knew nothing of her previous calling or story), on the
road to Devonshire. Templeton himself resolved to follow her thither in
a few days; and it was fixed that they should meet at Exeter.

It was on this melancholy journey that occurred that memorable day when
Alice once more beheld Maltravers; and, as she believed, uttering the
vows of love to another.* The indisposition of her child had delayed her
some hours at the inn: the poor sufferer had fallen asleep; and Alice
had stolen from its couch for a little while, when her eyes rested on
the father. Oh, how then she longed, she burned to tell him of