the past as well as the future." Despite his father's will, he had resolved not to see Lucy more; and even scorned himself for the impression she had made on him. Condemned as he was to defeat the hopes of Corinne, he felt that, at least, he ought to preserve his heart's faith inviolately hers: no duty urged him to forfeit that. He renewed his solicitations in her cause, by letters to Lady Edgarmond, who did not even deign to answer them: meanwhile, Mr. Dickson assured him that the only way of melting her to his wishes would be--marrying her daughter; whose establishment, she feared, Corinne might frustrate, if she resumed her name, and was received by her family. Fate had hitherto spared her the pang of suspecting Oswald's interest in her sister. Never was she herself more worthy of him than now. During her illness, the candid, simple beings by whom she was surrounded, had given her a sincere taste for English habits and manners. The few persons she saw were anything but distinguished, yet possessed an estimable strength, and justice of mind. Their affection for her was less professing than that to which she had been accustomed, but evinced with every opportunity by fresh good offices. The austerity of Lady Edgarmond, the tedium of a small country town, had cruelly misled her as to the kindness, the true nobility to be found in the country she had abandoned: unluckily, she now became attached to it under such circumstances, that it would have been better for her own peace had she never been untaught her dislike. [1] The Corinnes of this world care little how they pain the Castel Fortes. The mere esteem of such a man would have been worth even the love of twenty Oswalds.--TR. CHAPTER IV. The banker's family, who were forever studying how to prove their friendship, pressed Corinne to see Mrs. Siddons perform Isabella, in the Fatal Marriage, one of the characters in which that great actress best displayed her admirable genius. Corinne refused for some time: at last, she remembered that Lord Nevil had often compared her manner of recitation with that of Mrs. Siddons: she was therefore anxious to see her, and thickly veiled, went to a small box, whence she could see all, herself unseen. She knew not if Oswald was in London, but feared to be recognized by any one who might have met her in Italy. The commanding beauty and deep sensibility of the heroine so riveted her attention, that, during the earliest acts, her eyes were never turned from the stage.