coiled one hour
ago. Could a long career of guilt and shame thus deface and obliterate
that divine and godlike image, in which man was formed? He must have
loved my mother. Desperation for her loss had plunged him into the
wildest excesses of dissipation. From my soul I pitied him. I would
never cease to pray for him, never regret what I had done to save him
from ruin, even if my own happiness were wrecked by the act. I had tried
to do what was right, and God, who seeth the heart, would forgive me, if
wrong was the result.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Letters from Mrs. Linwood and Edith waited me at home. Their perusal
gave me an opportunity to collect my thoughts, and an excuse to talk of
them, of Grandison Place, rather than of topics connected with the
present. Yet all the time I was reading Mrs. Linwood's expression of
trusting affection, I said to myself,--

"What would she say, if she knew I had parted with her splendid gift,
unknown to my husband, whose happiness she committed so solemnly to my
keeping?"

I told Ernest of the interesting circumstances connected with Mr.
Brahan's house, and of the picture of my mother I so longed that I
should see. The wish was gratified sooner than I anticipated; for that
very evening, it was sent to me by Mr. Brahan, with a very elegant note,
in which he asked me to take charge of it till the rightful owner
appeared to claim it as his own.

"It _is_ like you, Gabriella," said Ernest, gazing with evident
admiration on the beauteous semblance; "and it is an exquisite painting
too. You must cherish this picture as a proof of your mother's beauty
and your father's genius."

I did cherish it, as a household divinity. I almost worshipped it, for
though I did not burn before it frankincense and myrrh, I offered to it
the daily incense of memory and love.

As Margaret consented to remain a week with her friend Miss Haven, we
were left in quiet possession of our elegant leisure, and Ernest openly
rejoiced in her absence. He read aloud to me, played and sung with
thrilling melody, and drew out all his powers of fascination for my
entertainment. The fear of his discovering my clandestine meeting grew
fainter and fainter as day after day passed, without a circumstance
arising which would lead to detection.

One evening, Mr. Harland, with several other gentlemen, was with us.
Ernest was unusually affable, and of course my spirits rose in
proportion. In the course of conversation, Mr.