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292 of it. I am not given to flattery, nor do I mean to praise you, but to say that only which is your due. You behave yourself with a circumspection so proper, that I think you are a pattern to your sex,"

Taking Rosilia's hand, and pressing it fervently within hers, her tears fast flowing as she spoke, she proceeded, "Could I, my dear girl, see my son lead you to the altar, it would be one of the happiest days I have seen for many a long year. It is the wish most dear and nearest to my heart. My son, my own dear Edward, as I told you before, idolizes you."

Overpowered by maternal recollections, she again paused. To promote the happiness of that son, so much beloved by her, to what mean artifices she was descending! with what deep self-love, with what fraudulent inventions, did she spread mists over the path of Rosilia, the gloomy hue of darkness over that glowing light which had opened upon her destiny, never to be re-illumined! Into what bitter invectives did she launch against the injured Harcourt!

"His calling," said she, "at the house, what an insult was it! One of the grossest that could be offered to a woman of virtue. Ah, my dear child! I hope he will never cross your path again. The