"P.S.--I would not have you state your intention of going abroad to any person; and prevent, if possible, any announcement of your departure in the newspapers." No words can adequately convey an idea of Lord Albert's feelings as he finished the perusal of this letter. It was plain, it was clear, that a conspiracy had existed between Lady Hamlet Vernon and Mr. Foley, of which he and Lady Adeline Seymour had become the victims. The detailed process of language cannot concentrate in one point the thousand varied feelings which combined in his bosom all the pangs of self-accusation with all the joy of believing that the precious being whom he had wronged was free from stain. Grief mingled with the conviction that he had again found his own transcendent Adeline, bright in all her purity, only to be convinced, at the same moment, that he had himself placed a wide gulf between them that could never be overpassed; and the knowledge that this was the case excited such overwhelming emotion in his breast as defies the power of language. It would be wrong, however, in this instance, as in all others where reflection points a moral, not to observe the omnipotence of virtue, which, it may be truly said, is a light to lighten our darkness; for in the depth of Lord Albert's present sufferings there was a latent spring of consolation in his heart, the cause of which he could little understand or account for at the moment, and from which he was not prepared to derive the benefit it was intended afterwards to convey; and this consolation was a sense of humble contrition, derived from the consciousness that the blow which had fallen upon him was righteously dealt, and that it was only retributive justice that he should meet his punishment from the very person for whom he had, in the indulgence of his vanity, played with the feelings of another till at length he sacrificed and lost her. This sense of humility is ever the foundation of true repentance; and true repentance brings resignation; and resignation is the balm which soothes a wounded spirit. He soon felt that the merciful ways of Providence had forced him unwillingly to a knowledge of his own fault, and with a contrite heart he kissed the rod that smote him. He felt at once as though a heavy burden were lifted from his breast. None of the double-mindedness, none of the obscure uncertainty, by which of late he had been oppressed and involved, now darkened his path. He was like one who is brought from a prisoned cavern to rejoice in the wholesome air and light of heaven. He no longer hesitated in his course, or wavered how he should conduct himself, but determined to profit by the severe lesson he had received, and act once more uprightly. He felt, as it were, instantaneously, that he had never really loved Lady Hamlet Vernon, and that vanity alone had betrayed him into her snare.