"And must my crime be thus perpetuated by those whom I hold most dear? must the misery of my life be renewed, perhaps, in that of her whom I have loved as my own child? and must my son be the cause of wretchedness to the dearest of my friends, through the medium of her daughter? "Forbid it Heaven! I conjure you, my beloved Julia! by our past love--by _tanta fede, e si, dolce memorie, e si lungo costume_, listen to this my warning, my supplicating voice; and let your consent give dignity and happiness to the union of our children. "HELEN PENDARVES." My mother, after having read this letter, covered her face with her hands, and rushed out of the room. It was in a state of anxious suspense that we awaited her return. When she appeared, her eyes were swelled, but her countenance was calm, her look resigned, and her deportment, as usual, dignified. Her assumed composure, however, failed again, when her eyes met those of Pendarves. "My son!" cried she, opening her arms to him, into which Seymour threw himself, as much affected as she was; then, beckoning me to her, she put my hand in his, and prayed God to bless our union. Little of this part of my life remains to be told. My mother had given her consent, and in two months from that period we were MARRIED. Here ends my narrative of a WOMAN'S LOVE. When next I treat of it, it will be as united to a WIFE'S DUTY.