“On the very day,” he replied, “on which I became acquainted with my birth, when poor Ormond’s rash attempt to put an end to his existence prevented my setting out instantly for Lodore, which I was, indeed, as the letter mentions, in the very act of doing when the alarm was given; for I had long enough vainly struggled with my feelings, while duty and honour forbade me to declare them; another moment of suspense, therefore, when those obstacles were removed, seemed not to be endured!” “And did you say, then, that you received a letter in reply purporting to be from me?” asked Julia, “and——” “I did,” answered Fitz-Ullin, “written in your name, and to all appearance your hand, and even style. I have preserved it, and can shew it you. It contains a gentle, very kindly worded, but, as I mentioned, decided rejection of the proposals made in my letter; and states, as the reason of that rejection, a secret, long cherished attachment, and engagement to Henry, to whom it declares you betrothed. It then reminds me, in the most seemingly artless and confiding manner, of many little circumstances I must myself have observed; and entreats me to keep inviolable the secret thus entrusted to me, either till you should obtain Lord L⸺’s consent, or, when of age, have taken some decided step. It farther requests me, not to make known to any of your family my wishes, lest they should urge your acceptance of my hand. And, finally, it commands me on pain of forfeiting your friendship for ever, no more to renew the subject to yourself, by the slightest allusion to it; even in any private interview that might occur. “On receiving this letter, I passed some days in a species of delirium; I scarcely knew what happened, but that I still continued apparently in attendance on the sick bed of Ormond; while horrible visions haunted me of every circumstance which had at any time raised for a moment suspicions of a secret understanding subsisting between you and your cousin. These were now received as fatal proofs, which long before ought to have opened my eyes. The past, with all its blissful, though presumptuous hopes, was changed in a moment into a wilderness on which I dared not look back! I know I wrote to Mrs. Montgomery, and endeavoured to observe your supposed injunction of secrecy; but, of what I said, I have scarcely an idea. My letter must have been wildly and strangely worded.” “That letter,” said Julia, and she smiled archly, though blushingly, “we all thought was written, in consequence of your disappointment, (as we believed) about Lady Susan. Her marriage, you know, took place just at that time. And that unfortunate being, Henry too,” she added, “confirmed this opinion, by declaring that he was in your confidence; and saying, that you had also written to him on the subject, quite in despair!” Fitz-Ullin could not help smiling in his turn, at the idea of his being in despair about Lady Susan.