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 blame. Believe me, I am now at least grateful, warmly grateful, for the kindness of your motives."

"Not so," said Walter, bitterly, "the advice of a friend is only meanness."

"Come, come, forgive me; pray, do not let us part unkindly. When did we ever quarrel before? I was wrong, grievously wrong—I will perform any penance you may enjoin."

"Agreed then, follow my admonitions."

"Ah! any thing else," said Madeline, gravely, and colouring deeply.

Walter said no more; he pressed her hand lightly and turned away.

"Is all forgiven?" said she, in so bewitching a tone, and with so bright a smile, that Walter, against his conscience, answered, "Yes."

The sisters left the room. I know not which of the two received his last glance.

Lester now returned with the letters. "There is one charge, my dear boy," said he, in concluding the moral injunctions and experienced suggestions with which the young generally leave the ancestral home (whether practically benefited or not by the legacy, may be matter of question)—"there is one