be kind," and you will
thank me for it hereafter.

_Juliet._ Well then, I _will_ write the note. And if it _must be done_ I
will do it immediately; for if I allow myself to think about it long, it
will grieve me so much that I shall never have resolution to go through
with it. (_She goes to the desk and writes._) There now, Edward, read
this note.

_Edward_, (_reading_.) "Though convinced that it is better our intimacy
should cease, it is not without regret that I decline all further
intercourse with Madeline Malcolm. For her health and happiness I offer
my best wishes; but in future we can only meet as strangers.

"JULIET LANSDOWNE."

Now seal and send it.

_Juliet._ Oh, Edward! it is hard to give up Madeline. But I believe you
are right, and I ought not to regret it.

_Edward._ I _know_ I am right.

Juliet then rang the bell for a servant, to whom with a quivering lip
and hesitating hand she gave the note, desiring him to leave it next
door for Miss Malcolm.

After breakfast, when Juliet was again alone with her brother, she said
to him, "Edward, I have never yet concealed any thing from my parents. I
think if I were to disclose to them the whole truth, I should feel less
miserable."

Edward approved of this determination, and they went together to their
mother, to whom Juliet candidly related the whole history of their going
to the theatre in disguise. She kindly endeavoured to throw as little
blame on Madeline as possible; and Edward tried to apologize for
Juliet's partiality for this dangerous girl, and for the yielding
gentleness of disposition with which his sister had allowed herself to
be influenced by her; and for her want of judgment in not perceiving the
faults of Madeline in as strong a light as they appeared to every one
else.

Mrs. Lansdowne's pleasure, on finding that her daughter had consented to
give up this very improper intimacy, counterbalanced her regret at
Juliet's having been persuaded by Madeline to join in the folly and
indecorum of the preceding evening. For this, however, she thought the
girls had been sufficiently punished by all they had suffered at the
theatre, and during their ignominious flight from it.

Madeline's parents had no suspicion of her having been at the play in
disguise, and the idea of confessing it to them never for a moment
entered her head. She was highly indignant at Juliet's note; and
fortunately her resentment wa