her Attorney carefully to abstain from giving Mr. Otway the least intimation of her new tie, she burst upon him in the moment of his entrance at Mr. Scriven's house, dressed in fashionable attire, which had succeeded in all the gay colouring of a London milliner's shop, to the garb of sorrow in which he had seen her arrayed in _one_ personal interview after her husband's death. The only time of their meeting had been upon that occasion, when he begged permission to consider himself as guardian to her child, thus proving that, though he had ceased to _love_, he still felt the kindest and most sacred interest in her fate. Disgusted now beyond the power of controlling his feelings, he put a speedy termination to a conference, the manner, as well as the matter of which had excited his utmost indignation; and assuring her that if any undue advantage was taken by her influence over the minor, a suit should be immediately commenced against her and her husband, he took a hasty leave. Frightened by these menaces, the lady retired, and soon announced her departure to the Continent, where, about two years ago, she died of a broken heart. Mr. Otway's business completed, he quickly returned to his favourite retreat, and loved to wander alone along the beach which surrounds a part of his demesne. My dear father once caught him upon a rocky promontory with pencil and paper in his hand. The question of 'what is that? Has Otway secrets with _me_?' was answered by 'it is a worthless scrap; take it, but Henry touch not that chord again--it jars upon my ear, and spoils all harmony.' I will now read you the lines which my father obtained by this surprise. It is the only poetry which even mamma has ever seen of her friend's writing.--Here Emily read to me the following stanzas:-- _On first seeing Stella in a coloured dress after her second marriage._ "Stella! thy beauty rested on the shade Of sorrow's lonely night, like that fair flower,[A] Queen of the dark, whose tender glories fade In the gay radiance of a noon-tide hour. "That flower supreme in loveliness--and pure As the pale Cynthian beam thro' which unveiled It blooms--as if unwilling to endure The gaze by which such beauties are assailed. "And in the solitude of Nature's sleep, Unfolds such treasures to the midnight gloom, As gem the vault of Heaven in silence deep When widowed wanderer seeks the mouldering tomb. "Yes! like the velvet-soft, and snowy star, Wrapped in thy sable garb, it erst was thine, With unassuming lustre, spreading far, In mild and chastened majesty to shine. "Each stranger footstep that approached the fane, Eager to view, yet fearful to intrude; Seemed to partake the dread of giving pain, By glance unhallowed, or by finger rude.