Emmeline, teized and provoked out of her usual calmness, answered--'That whatever might be her reasons, she was fortunately accountable to nobody for them.' Mrs. Ashwood, provoked in her turn, made some very rude replies, which Emmeline, not to irritate her farther, left the room without answering; and as soon as the carriages drove from the door, she dined alone, and then desiring one of the servants to carry her harp into the summer-house in the copse, she walked thither with her music books, and soon lost the little chagrin which Mrs. Ashwood's ill-breeding had given her. Fitz-Edward, who arrived in the country the preceding evening, after another fruitless search for Lady Adelina, walked over to Woodfield, in hopes, as it was early in the afternoon, that he might obtain, in the course of it, some conversation with Mrs. Stafford and Emmeline. On arriving, he met the servant who had attended Emmeline to the copse, and was by him directed thither. As he approached the seat, he heard her singing a plaintive air, which seemed in unison with his heart. She started at the sight of him--Mrs. Ashwood's suspicions immediately occurred to her, and at the same moment the real motive which had made him seek this interview. She blushed, and looked uneasy; but the innocence and integrity of her heart presently restored her composure, and when Fitz-Edward asked if she would allow him half an hour of her time, she answered--'certainly.' He sat down by her, dejectedly and in silence. She was about to put aside her harp, but he desired her to repeat the air she was singing. 'It is sweetly soothing,' said he, 'and reminds me of happier days when I first heard it; while you sing it, I may perhaps acquire resolution to tell you what may oblige you to discard me from your acquaintance. It does indeed require resolution to hazard such a misfortune.' Emmeline, not knowing how to answer, immediately began the air. The thoughts which agitated her bosom while she sung, made her voice yet more tender and pathetic. She saw the eyes of Fitz-Edward fill with tears; and as soon as she ceased he said-- 'Tell me, Miss Mowbray--what does the man deserve, who being entrusted with the confidence of a young and beautiful woman--beautiful, even as Emmeline herself, and as highly accomplished--has betrayed the sacred trust; and has been the occasion--oh God!--of what misery may I not have been the occasion! 'Pardon me,' continued he--'I am afraid my despair frightens you--I will endeavour to command myself.' Emmeline found she could not escape hearing the story, and endeavoured not to betray by her countenance that she already knew it. Fitz-Edward went on--