“I am well aware of that,” replied Lady Julia, growing quite pale, yet without changing the determination of her countenance, or abating any thing from the dignity of her manner: “I am well aware, that on what I am about to do depends my having, or my ceasing from this moment to have, fortune, friends, and a father.” Lord Glistonbury stood still for a moment--fixed his eyes upon her as if he would have read her soul; but, without seeking to elude his inquiry, her countenance seemed to offer itself to his penetration. “By Heaven, there is no understanding this girl!” cried his lordship. “Mr. Vivian, I trust her to your honour--to your knowledge of the world--to your good sense;--in short, sir, to your love and constancy.” “And I, sir,” said Lady Julia, turning to Vivian, after her father had left the room, and looking at Vivian so as to stop him short as he approached, and to disconcert him in the commencement of a passionate speech; “and I, too, sir, trust to your honour, whilst I deprecate your love. Imprudent as I was in the first confidence I reposed in you, and much as I have suffered by your rashness, I now stand determined to reveal to you another yet more important, yet more humiliating secret--You owe me no gratitude, sir!--I am compelled, by the circumstances in which I am placed, either to deceive or to trust you. I must either become your wife, and deceive you most treacherously; or I must trust you entirely, and tell you why it would be shameful that I should become your wife--shameful to me and to you.” “To me!--Impossible!” cried Vivian, bursting into some passionate expressions of love and admiration. “Listen to me, sir; and do not make any of those rash professions, of which you will soon repent. You think you are speaking to the same Lady Julia you saw yesterday--No!--you are speaking to a very different person--a few hours have made a terrible change. You see before you, sir, one who has been, till this day, the darling and pride of her father; who has lived in the lap of luxury; who has been flattered, admired, by almost all who approached her; who had fortune, and rank, and fair prospects in life, and youth, and spirits, and all the pride of prosperity; who had, I believe, good dispositions, perhaps some talents, and, I may say, a generous heart; who might have been,--but that is all over--no matter what she might have been--she is ‘A tale for ev’ry prating she.’ Fallen!--fallen! fallen under the feet of those who worshipped her!--fallen below the contempt of the contemptible!--Worse! worse! fallen in her own opinion--never to rise again.” Lady Julia’s voice failed, and she was forced to pause. She sunk upon a seat, and hid her face--for some moments she neither saw nor heard; but at last, raising her head, she perceived Vivian.