wish to atone for the pain he had given, and to assure me by his manner
that his confidence was perfectly restored.

"I shall avail myself of your absence," said he, "to pay some of my
epistolary debts. They have weighed heavy on my conscience for some
time."

"And I," said Madge, "have engaged to spend the day with Miss Haven. You
can drop me on the way."

Madge had behaved unusually well during the morning, and did not harass
me at the breakfast table, as I feared she would, about the bold
stranger at the theatre. Perhaps my pale cheeks spoke too plainly of the
sufferings of the evening, and she had a heart after all.

As I went into my room to prepare for going out, my hands trembled so
that I could scarcely fasten the ribbons of my bonnet. Every thing
seemed to facilitate my filial duty; but the more easy seemed its
accomplishment, the more I shrunk from the thought of deceiving Ernest,
in this hour of restored tranquillity and abounding love. I loathed the
idea of deceiving any one,--but Ernest, my lover, my husband,--how could
I beguile his new-born confidence?

He came in, and wrapped me up in my ermine-trimmed cloak, warning me of
exposing myself to the morning air, which was of wintry bleakness.

"You must bring back the roses which I have banished from your cheeks,"
said he, kissing them with a tenderness and gentleness that made my
heart ache with anguish. I did not deserve these caresses; and if my
purpose were discovered, would they not be the last?

Shuddering, as I asked myself this question, I turned towards him, as if
to daguerreotype on my heart every lineament of his striking and
expressive face. How beautiful was his countenance this moment, softened
by tenderness, so delicately pale, yet so lustrous, like the moonlight
night!

"Oh, Ernest!" said I, throwing my arms around him, with a burst of
irrepressible emotion, "I am not worthy of the love you bear me, but yet
I prize it far more than life. If the hour comes when it is withdrawn
from me, I pray Heaven it may be my last."

"It can never be withdrawn, my Gabriella. You may cast it from your
bosom, and it may wither, like the flower trampled by the foot of man;
but by my own act it never can be destroyed. Nor by yours either, my
beloved wife. At this moment I have a trust in you as entire as in
heaven itself. I look back with wonder and remorse on the dark delusions
to which I have submitted myself. But the spell is broken; the demon
lai