On beholding the fair European, the gaiety Sir Henry had assumed, suddenly deserted him; in vain he endeavoured to withdraw his eyes and attention from the fascinating maid; emotions but too perceptible agitated him, and the consciousness of betraying his feelings, increased them to the most painful degree. Harland at last observed him, and jealousy whispered that Sir Henry loved Louise. The idea, in an instant, clouded the happiness her presence had given rise to; as Sir Henry, he well knew, must prove a far more formidable rival than Ferrand, whose chief recommendations were rank and fortune; but Sir Henry, to equal attractions, united a person, in which every manly beauty, fast springing to perfection, received additional lustre from an innate elegance of manners. Melancholy, indeed, had too apparently "marked him for her own," but that melancholy rendered him still more interesting. Louise heeded not his agitation or attention, till an accident, trivial in itself, forced it to her observation, and confirmed the suspicion of Harland. In extending her hand to re-place some fruit, a miniature fell from her bosom; Sir Henry took it up, but in restoring it to the fair owner, glanced his eyes on the features it represented. "Oh God, it is herself!"--he exclaimed, and grasped the hand of Louise--but checking the rising sentence, hastily gave the picture, and rushed past Frederick out of the cabin. Frederick instantly followed to ask an explanation, and found Sir Henry in the utmost agitation. "For Heaven's sake, my friend," he exclaimed, "what is the occasion of this strange behaviour? Recollect yourself; nor force the company to surmises perhaps equally injurious to Mademoiselle St. Ursule and yourself. Yield not thus to the influence of your passions, or I shall indeed fear for your reason. Believe me, Sir Henry, I wish not impertinently to pry into those secrets honour forbids your revealing--yet to those you can confide, I must assert my right. You know my heart: it beats with the sincerest friendship toward you: trust it then, Sir Henry--and let it at least share your sorrows!" Sir Henry wrung his hand--"Oh Frederick, that night--that fatal night!--and now Louise"-- "Is, I am afraid, attached to George," said Frederick. Sir Henry did not notice the observation, but continued--"Yet why should I shrink from an explanation? No--I will wait on the Marchioness to-morrow."-- "To that you must first have my consent!" exclaimed Harland, bursting into the cabin. "I love Louise; and, before I will resign the thoughts of her, I will resign my life! You had better, therefore, withdraw your pretensions." "What means this interruption, Lieutenant Harland?" said Sir Henry. "My pretensions to Louise are founded on ties far above your power to controvert or forbid!"