“No one wishes to offend me; and yet—but no matter, I came to tell you something, but I dare say it will only set you off into hysterics, or something of that kind. I have made a discovery, a painful, heart-rending discovery. It ought not to concern you, but you have a woman’s heart, and can sympathize with me.” “What, what has happened?” cried Georgie, sitting up, and turning her eyes full upon Miss Eliza. “Nothing very serious, I hope.” “That depends,” answered the spinster, sitting down on the floor with a swoop of her garments that raised a little whirlwind around them, and leaning her elbow on Georgiana’s lap. This was a favorite position with Miss Eliza when the spirit of extreme youthfulness grew strong within her. “That depends on the susceptibility of the heart that is wounded. Oh, child! may you never be gifted with those exquisite feelings which make up that heavenly thing called genius in a human soul; but without that you can never know how I suffer, how the pride of suppressed tenderness struggles in this soul!” Georgiana had heard these intense rhapsodies before, and knew what trifling occasions could bring them forth. She closed her eyes wearily, and laid her head back on the cushions of the chair, waiting in weary patience for the explanation that might be long in coming. “No wonder you sigh; no wonder the lids droop over your eyes. My own are full of unshed tears. But I must be brave. I will be brave, and struggle against the destiny that threatens me.” Georgiana sighed a little wearily and moved back in her seat, for Miss Eliza’s arm pressed heavily upon her. “Is there—is there a man on earth that may be trusted, who is not ready to break the heart that confides in him?” Georgiana shrunk back from the prying glance fixed upon her, and strove against the thrill of pain that passed over her. “Whom are you speaking of, Miss Eliza?” she inquired, in a faint voice. “Of the man whom you, weak, silly thing, have loved vainly; and I—oh! too well!—too well! He is faithless, like the rest—cruelly, cruelly faithless—I saw it with my own eyes. After that scene in the carriage, too, when my hand rested in the firm clasp of his; when his eyes met all the maidenly tenderness that flooded mine. Oh, Georgiana! that was a heavenly moment; but the earthquake has come; the tornado is passed, and my heart lies a wreck under his feet. ‘He may break—he may ruin the vase, if he will, But the scent of the roses will cling to it still.’” Here Miss Eliza took out her cobweb of a handkerchief, and wiped some mythical tears from her pale, gray eyes. Then grasping the handkerchief tightly in her hand, she cried out, “But you cannot feel. He never loved you, never encouraged your love.” Georgiana started up, and shook the arm from her lap with some impatience. “Who are you talking about? What does all this mean?” she said.