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 hastily given to a plan so hopeless and extravagant. But as she passed in her descent a private door which entered into the chapel from the back-stair, she heard the voice of the female-servants as they were employed in the task of cleaning it.

"Married! and to sae bad a man Ewhow, sirs! ony thing rather than that."

"They are right—they are right," said Miss Vere, "any thing rather than that."

She hurried to the garden. Mr Ratcliffe was true to his appointment—the horses stood saddled at the garden-gate, and in a few minutes they were advancing rapidly toward the hut of the Solitary.

While the ground was favourable, the speed of their journey was such as to prevent much communication; but when a steep ascent compelled them to slacken their pace, a new cause of apprehension occurred to Miss Vere's mind.

"Mr Ratcliffe," she said, pulling up her horse's bridle, "let us prosecute no