bdued her opposition--subdued it
the more readily, perhaps, from the knowledge that her son could
accomplish his designs without her aid, by turning into money the plate,
jewels and pictures received from his father. Edward Houstoun's first
act, after securing the execution of his designs, was to inform Lucy of
the progress he had made. His own absence from New-York at this time
would have excited his mother's surprise, and might have aroused her
suspicions; but the haste with which he had left the Glen furnished him
with a plausible excuse for sending his own man to look after clothing,
books, &c., that had been forgotten, and by him a letter could, he knew,
be safely sent.

A few days brought back to him his own letter, with the intelligence
that Lucy had left Farmer Pye's family. Whither she had gone, they could
not, or would not tell. Setting all fears at defiance, he went himself
to the Glen--he sounded and examined and cross-examined every member of
the farmer's family; but in vain were his efforts. He learned only that
she had declared her intention of supporting herself by her own
exertions, instead of continuing dependent on the Lady Houstoun--that
she had returned the lady's last donation, through the farmer, with many
expressions of gratitude, and that she had left home for the house of
an acquaintance in New-York, from whom she hoped to receive advice and
assistance in the accomplishment of her intentions. She had mentioned
neither the name nor place of residence of this friend, and though she
had written once to the good farmer, she had only informed him that she
had found a home and employment, without reference to any person or
place. Edward asked to see the letter--it was brought, but the post-mark
told no secret--it was that of the nearest post town, and the farmer,
opening the letter, showed that Lucy had said she had requested the
bearer to drop it into that office. Who that bearer was, none knew.
Bitter was the disappointment of Edward Houstoun. A beautiful vision had
crossed his path, had awakened his noblest impulses, kindled his
passionate devotion, and then vanished for ever. But she had left
ineradicable traces of her presence. His awakened energies, his
passionate longings, his altered life, all gave assurance that she had
been--that the bright ideal of womanly beauty and tenderness, and
gentleness and firmness, which lived in his memory, was no dream of
fancy. He anticipated little pleasure no