lly
conscious, and glowing with confusion I raised myself from my reclining
position, and attempted to look up into the face of Ernest. But I could
not do it. Contending emotions deprived me of the power of self-command.

"This is madness, Gabriella! This is suicide!" he exclaimed, lifting me
from the grave, and still supporting me with his arm. "Why do you come
here to nurse a grief so far beyond the limits of reason and religion?
Why do you give your friends such exquisite pain, yourself such
unnecessary misery?"

"Do not reproach me," I cried. "You know not what cause I have for
anguish and despair."

"Despair, Gabriella! You cannot know the meaning of that word. Despair
belongs to guilt, and even that is not hopeless. And why do you come to
this lone place of graves to weep, as if human sympathy were denied to
your sorrows? Is not my mother kind,--is not Edith tender and
affectionate? Am not I worthy to be trusted, as a friend,--a
protector,--a redresser; and if need be, an avenger of wrongs?"

"My own wrongs I might reveal; but those of the dead are sacred," I
answered, stooping down and gathering up the manuscript, which was half
concealed in the long, damp grass. "But do not think me ungrateful. What
I owe to your mother and Edith words can never tell. In every prayer I
breathe to heaven I shall call down blessings on their head. And you
too,--you have been more than kind. I never can forget it."

"If it be not too presumptuous, I will unite your name with theirs, and
pray that God may bless you, now and ever more."

"This will never do," said he, drawing me forcibly from the mournful
place. "You _must_ confide in my mother, Gabriella. A dark secret is a
plague spot in the heart. Confide in my mother. It is due to her
maternal love and guardianship. And beware of believing that any thing
independent _of yourself_ can alienate her affections. Can you walk? If
it were not for leaving you alone, I would go and return with the
carriage."

"Oh, yes; I am quite well and strong again."

"Then lean on me, Gabriella. Shrink not from an arm which would gladly
protect you from every danger and every wrong. Let us hasten, lest I
utter words which I would not for worlds associate with a scene so cold
and sad. Not where the shadow of death falls--no--not here."

He hurried me through the gate, and then paused.

"Rest here a moment," said he, "and recover your composure. We may meet
with those who would wonder to se