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 opening an aunt's eyes; but the peculiar circumstances of my situation will, I hope, excuse it.

"Your most obedient servant,

"."

This letter enclosed one of Lady Avondale's—one which, however, she had not blushed to write. She read it with terror when Mrs. Seymour placed it in her hands. Cruel Glenarvon! could he have the heart thus to betray me—to my own aunt too. Oh! had that aunt been less indulgent, less kind, what had been my fate?

"You are innocent yet, my child," said Mrs. Seymour, placing her arms around her; "and the early conviction of the meanness and wickedness of him for whom you were preparing to sacrifice so much, will render it easy to reclaim yourself from your present errors, and look with less confidence in future."—"Never, never, will I pardon him," cried