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 with hasty strides. At last, he threw himself upon a chair—"Beg his pardon!" exclaimed he: "Oh Elvira! Elvira!" and he hid his face in his hands, whilst the big tears trickled through his fingers, and Lord Edmund, the stern, courageous soldier, the philosopher, the hero, and the statesman, wept, actually wept, like a feeble child.

"Oh Edmund!" exclaimed Rosabella, approaching him, and taking his hand—"I cannot bear to see you in distress. Would to Heaven that by the sacrifice even of my life I could relieve you!"

"Rosabella, you will drive me to distraction."

"Not for worlds, Edmund; on the contrary, were I mistress of worlds, I would cast them at your feet."

"I know it—I know it; but spare me now."

"Spare you, Edmund! Spare what? spare my reproaches, mean you? Alas! you need not fear them. Am I not devoted to you? Is it not for your sake that I have thus passed the boundaries of my sex? Are you disgusted with