Page:The Wanderer (1814 Volume 4).pdf/153

 Juliet perceived it, and changed colour. Tears gushed into her eyes, and her head dropt upon the neck of her friend. "Oh my Gabriella!" she cried, "if my silence wounds, or offends you,—it is at an end!"

Gabriella, instantly repressing every symptom of impatience, warmly protested that she would await, without a murmur, the moment of communication; well satisfied that it could be withheld from motives only that would render its anticipation dangerous, if not censurable.

With grateful tears, and tenderest embraces, Juliet expressed her thanks for this acquiescence.

Of Gabriella, the history was brief and gloomy. She had entered into business with as little comprehension of its attributes, as taste for its pursuit; her mind, therefore, bore no part in its details, though she sacrificed to them the whole of her time. Of her son alone she could speak or think. From