“Hugh, we are not, of course, authorized to promise anything in the name of Mrs. Garnet, who is at this moment ignorant of Miss Seabright’s magnanimity; but—I would she were here to answer for herself.” Here the clock struck twelve, and Dr. Hardcastle, lighting another candle, said: “Friends, it is Sunday morning. Let us waive the discussion of worldly matters for to-day. Hugh, you know your chamber. Good-night!” CHAPTER XLI. THE SECRET REVEALED. And in her lineaments they trace Some features of her father’s face. _—Byron._ In the meantime Miss Seabright was preparing to resign her state. Few can estimate the terrible trial it was to this just but ambitious girl to abdicate her elevated social position and step down upon the common level to labor with the common herd. You have already seen how, in the fearful struggle which had ensued—in that dread bosom tempest—all the latent selfishness which marred that noble nature was thrown up and exposed upon the crest of the tossing waves of passion. But if, in this soul-storm, her hidden evil was cast up to view, it was also cast off. And then, when the waves of her heart subsided, and the clouds on her brain dispersed, and the sun of right shone out clear and bright, illuminating her soul, and revealing her to herself—then she saw that there was something in her own nature greater than all her adventitious surroundings. Now she would not have said to Hugh what she had said before, “I am not much, shorn of my beams.” No, indeed, there was consolidating in her heart a noble, steadfast self-appreciation that would no more falsify itself by factitious humility than degrade itself by unjust action. And having once made the sacrifice, and turned her back upon the splendors of her past fortune, there was no regret, no looking back, like Lot’s wife; her face was set to her forward path—her strong, impetuous soul already rushing on to realize her future of loving and hopeful toil with Hugh for her companion and guide. With Hugh! How, the recurring of his very name, the tide of emotion, like the rushing of a mighty river, would roll over her, overwhelming and confusing her soul with a sort of lost, delirious joy! Within this month of sacrifice, how much stronger and more concentrated had become her love for Hugh! And if the Judge of all hearts had demanded a reason for the mighty love that was in her, she would have been constrained to answer, “It is his moral integrity that has mastered my heart. It is his moral integrity that would not waver, for love or for ambition—those two mightiest passions of the human soul. I loved him before, I loved him well enough to have given him myself and all my wealth, but when I found in him a moral rectitude that would not bend for love of me, or hope of grandeur, I was drawn up to adore him. Yes, that is why I would rather