This time I had the honour of his choosing his seat next me; and, as I saw that he only pretended to eat in order to appease his uncle, I told him in a low voice I believed he was ill. 'My mind is my disease,' he said. Ah, then, thought I, he does perhaps repent! I longed to talk to him, but I could think of no subject, no name but _Peggy_; and Peggy I had not courage to mention. I made an awkward remark upon our ride to the water side; then I introduced as awkwardly, and to as little purpose, the time of my leaning out of my chamber window. Murden, unconscious of my meaning and allusions, heard me composedly; and I ended only where I began. He found me absent and embarrassed; and, though little suspecting that _his mind was_ also _my disease_, his attentions were more exclusively mine, than I had ever before experienced them to have been. A few minutes before the company separated, Murden said to me, 'I am informed, Miss Ashburn, that you intend visiting our poor Indian to-morrow morning.' 'Yes,' I said, 'I had ordered my horse early for that purpose.' 'I should request your permission to attend you, madam; but I am in some sort engaged to eat my breakfast on brown bread and new milk at a farm-house.' 'A farm-house!' said I. 'Yes, madam,' rejoined Murden, as calmly as though he had carried content and joy into that farm-house, instead of remorse and misery; 'Yes, madam, the most charming spot in this country. My constant house of call in the shooting season. Many pleasant brown bread breakfasts and suppers have I eaten there.' So unblushing, so hard-hearted a confession absolutely startled me. I had already risen to retire, he rose also, and said, 'Will you, Miss Ashburn, allow me to ride with you in the morning?' 'And neglect the farm-house, Mr. Murden.' He replied, 'the time is of little consequence, I can go there afterward.' 'Oh, but it is,' said I, '_now_ of infinite consequence. Not for the world would I be the means of your dispensing with one title of your promises to that farm-house. Pray,' said I, turning back, after having bade him good night, 'Mr. Murden, do you correspond with Clement Montgomery?' Again I became reconciled to him; again I was persuaded, that he repented of his error, and that he is not hardened in his transgressions, for he understood the fullest tendency of my question. His countenance instantly expressed shame, surprise, and sorrow too; and his voice faultered while he said-- 'Why, Miss Ashburn, why should you wish to know that?' And when he added, 'I do indeed, madam, correspond with Mr. Montgomery,' he looked from me. My _good night_ was more cordial than the former one; and I hope, that, if Murden finds his breakfast at the farm-house less pleasant than heretofore, its usefulness will increase, as its pleasure ceases. Day-light bursts into my chamber. In another hour, I shall prepare to visit the Indian. My Sibella, farewel! CAROLINE ASHBURN LETTER VIII FROM CLEMENT MONTGOMERY TO