resistance she had practised in abandoning herself to the implicit guidance, direction, and honor of the man she loved, supposing him altogether incapable of error. She trembled as the retrospect of past scenes rushed upon her mind,—at the ruin and desolation they might have involved, in consequence of allowing herself to be swayed by Inclination, unsanctioned by Duty, reason, or judgment. And this was the nature of her reflections: "The loss of Philimore, so cherished by me, is the chastisement which Providence inflicts for the deception I have practised on my parents!"
After a due interval, the reply of Philimore was received. With a beating heart Oriana fled to her apartment, there in secret to ascertain her doom,—to learn whether Philimore would once again bestow on her the sweet soothings of consolation and of hope; or whether, indeed, he was lost to her for ever! She broke the seal, and her eyes, though nearly dim with emotion, traced those well-known characters, but no longer, as formerly, were they pressed to her lips, or folded upon her bosom.
Short was the epistle, and, like the preceding ones, redolent of indifference. "He saw, no prospect of an alliance, and, therefore, urged her to resign herself to the decrees of that Providence, whose ways, though inscrutable, are merciful and just." But why was no kindred feeling of sympathy or regret mingled with his exhortations,—so cold,—so laconic;—saying nothing of himself, or of his health,—and
