--that it is your husband who
watches you with such jealous scrutiny. He must not know who I am. I am
a reckless, desperate man. It would be dangerous to us both to meet.
Guard my secret as you expect to find your grave peaceful, your eternity
free from remorse. When can I see you alone? Where can I meet you? I am
in danger, distress,--ruin and death are hanging over me,--I must flee
from the city; but I must see you, my child, my sweet, my darling
Gabriella. I must learn the fate of my lost Rosalie.

"The curtain falls,--I dare not write more. Walk in the ---- Park
to-morrow morning at ten o'clock, where I will wait your coming. Come
alone,--I ask only a few moments. A father pleads with his child! As you
hope for an answer to your dying prayers, come, child of my
Rosalie,--child of my own sad heart."

Once,--twice,--thrice I read these lines,--the death-warrant of my
wedded peace. How could I resist so solemn an appeal, without violating
the commands of a dying mother? How could I meet him, without incurring
the displeasure of my husband? What possibility was there of my leaving
home alone, when Ernest scarcely ever left me; when, after his return,
if he chanced to go out, he always asked me how I had passed the time of
his absence? How could I preserve outward composure, with such a secret
burning in my heart? A sigh, involuntarily breathed,--a tear, forcing
its way beneath the quivering lash, would expose me to suspicion and
distress. What could I, should I do? I was alone, now; and I yielded
momentarily to an agony of apprehension, that almost drove me mad. On
one side, a guilty, ruined parent; on the other, a jealous husband,
whose anger was to me a consuming fire. No, no; I could never expose
myself again to that. I trembled at the recollection of those pale,
inflexible features, and that eye of stormy splendor. The lightning bolt
was less terrible and scathing. Yet, to turn a deaf ear to a father's
prayer; to disregard a mother's injunction; to incur, perhaps, the guilt
of parricide; to hazard the judgments of the Almighty;--how awful the
alternative!

I sank down on my knees, and laid my head on the marble slab on which I
had been seated. I tried to pray; but hysterical sobs choked my words.

"Have pity upon me, O my heavenly Father!" at length I exclaimed,
raising my clasped hands to heaven. "Have pity upon me, and direct me in
the right path. Give me courage to do right, and leave the result unto
Thee. I