nd I directed my steps, by some secret impulse against which I
struggled in vain, to the Wilderness. "I may as well see the spot where
I was so deluded," I thought, and recognized every object--alas! with
what different feelings--as I drew near the trysting-tree.

"It was there," thought, "I saw Amy for the first time, as she was
flying for protection; it was there I rushed forward to save her; it was
there, under the oak"----As I directed my eyes to the spot, my heart
leaped as if I had seen a spirit; for there, on the identical turf, with
a work-basket on her lap, sat Lucy Ashton, or rather Mrs Shookers.

"So you've come at last!" she said. "Well, better late than never.
Here's your seat all ready. I have expected you a long time."

"Are you a woman, or a fiend in human shape?" I began.

"Oh! a fiend by all means, if you like; but what has kept you all this
time from Bushy Park? I am afraid your father won't give his consent;
you would have come to me sooner if he had. But come, sit down and tell
me all."

So saying, she went on with her knitting. She was lovelier than ever.
She was dressed in a black silk gown, and wore a long black mantilla
over her head. I had never heard any thing so musical as her voice, nor
seen any thing so beautiful as her smile.

"I shall certainly not be your dupe any longer," I said; "and, believe
me, the coquetry that might be captivating in Miss Elizabeth Juffles, is
simply disgusting in Mrs Shookers of Singapore."

"Had not you better send out your opinion by the next India mail? Betsy
has sailed by this time, and will just get out in time to receive your
letter."

"Then, if you are not Betsy Juffles, tell me, in Heaven's name, who and
what you are?"

"I'm a young girl of nineteen, who promised once to accept the hand of a
young gentleman of the name of Rayleigh, who told me a hundred times he
did not care about my family--that it was myself only he cared for: and
he even went down to tell his father of the resolution he had taken,
without making enquiry as to either my birth, parentage, or education. A
wild young man he was, and rather changeable; for sometimes he would
have made sonnets to my eyebrows, if he had had the gift of verse;
sometimes he would have stabbed me to the heart, if he had had a dagger;
sometimes I was his adorable Lucy Ashton; then his tantalizing Miss
Poggs; then his hated Betsy; whereas, all the time, I was nothing but
the selfsame anonymous but fascina