Ferdinand perused this letter with all the marks of the wildest astonishment. "What fatal mystery lurks beneath the expressions in this paper!" cried he, "Of what crimes has she been guilty, but her attachment to me, and wherefore does she accuse herself of ingratitude? Marry again! Oh! Claudina, you little know my heart. There is, there must be some secret with which I am unacquainted, every line in her letter discovers it, why else call me injured? Oh! Ernest, declare this secret, whatever it is, the knowledge cannot make me so miserable as this dreadful uncertainty, this painful imagination."
"From me, Sir," answered Ernest, "you can learn nothing, for I have nothing to reveal; reconcile your mind to this event, which must be for the advantage of both.—Nothing on earth shall make me betray my trust, nor, whilst I live, discover the place of her abode. Should I die, when you are from me, I will take care you shall then, through a particular channel, still hear from,
