"My father was overcome. He could not himself refrain from tears. I felt deeply for him, and would have given any thing to hear this secret cause of grief. But his expressions kept me silent; and I clasped his hands in pity. "'Edgar,' he continued in a loud voice, and speaking through his tears, 'listen to my words. They are sacred. Receive them as you would my dying syllables. You may be distant when the blow falls which divides us. Edgar, I implore you, when you become a man, to let one consideration only guide you in your selection of a partner. Mark me--only one--see that she has a heart--a _virtuous_ heart--and that it be yours entire. Despise wealth-- beauty--family--look to nothing but that. Would to Heaven that I had!-- Edgar--your happiness--your salvation, every thing, depends upon it. I have lost all--I am crushed and ruined; but do you, dear child, learn wisdom from your father's wreck.' "He said no more. I could not answer him, for my heart was choked. In a few minutes he bade me, in a quiet tone, retire to the breakfast room; and shortly afterwards he made his own appearance there, looking as moodily and cross when he beheld my mother, as when he had encountered her at supper on the night before. "Now, sir, I am ashamed to confess to you--but I have asked you to hear my history--and you shall hear the truth in the teeth of shame--that all my sympathy was, from this hour, towards my father, and against my mother. It may be wrong--wicked--but I could not control the strong feeling within me. His words had left a powerful impression upon my mind. His tone, his tears--his man's tears--stamped those words with truth, and I believed him wronged. In what way I knew not--nor did I care. It was sufficient for me to hear it, as I did, from his lips, and to be told that it was not possible to reveal more. Besides, sir, I have already intimated to you that there was little tenderness in my mother's heart for me. She was cold, indifferent, and had never had part in all my little joys and griefs. My father, even with his heavy fault--a fault almost pardoned, as I believed; by the provocation--watched my boyish steps, and rejoiced with me in my well-doing. Nothing had interest for me which was not important to him. He encouraged me in learning. He grudged no money that could be spent in my improvement--he had no joy so great as that which waited on my desire for knowledge. He had been to me a playmate, counsellor, friend, whenever his slender opportunities permitted him to escape to me; and evidences of the most devoted affection had disturbed my youthful heart with an emotion too deep for utterance in the silence and solitude of my schoolboy hours. Yes--right or wrong--by necessity--my sympathy was all for him. And to convince you, sir, that my feelings were enlisted in his cause, irrespectively of self, without the most distant view to my own interest, I have but to refer to the life which I passed under his roof,