The Prince took the letter and tore it in a thousand pieces; exclaiming, “I cannot indeed equal, but I will at least endeavour to imitate your generosity. You chose me as your protector in the hour of danger, when confidence was more hazardous to him who reposed than him who received it. You placed your life in my hands with no other bond for its security than my _honour!_ In the season of my distress you flew to save me: you lavished your property for my release, not considering the improbability of its remuneration! Take my child; her esteem, her affections, have long been yours; let me die in peace, by seeing her united to a worthy man!--_that_ I _know_ you are; what else you may be I will only learn from _the lips of a son-in-law_. Confidence at least shall be repaid by confidence.” At these words the always generous, always vehement and inconsiderate Prince rose from his pillow and placed the hand of his daughter in mine, confirming the gift with a tear of joy and a tender benediction. Glorvina bowed her head to receive it--her veil fell over her face--the index of her soul was concealed: how then could I know what passed there? She was silent--she was obedient--and I was---- deceived. The Prince, on his arrival at the castle of In-ismore, felt the hour of dissolution stealing fast on every principle of life. Sensible of his situation, his tenderness, his anxiety for his child survived every other feeling; nor would he suffer himself to be carried to his chamber until he had bestowed her on me from the altar. I knew not then what were the sentiments of Glorvina. Entwined in the arms of her doating, dying father, she seemed insensible to every emotion, to every thought but what his fate excited; but however gratified I might have been at the intentions of the Prince, I was decidedly averse to their prompt execution. I endeavoured to remonstrate: a _look_ from the Prince silenced every objection: and----. But here let me drop the veil of oblivion over the past: let me clear from the tablets of memory those records of extraordinary and recent circumstances to which my heart can never revert but with a pang vibrating on its tenderest nerve. It is, however, the true spirit of philosophy to draw from the evil which cannot be remedied all the good of which in its tendency it is yet susceptible; and since the views of my parental ambition are thus blasted in the bloom, let me at least make him happy whom it was once my only wish to render eminent: know then, my imprudent but still dear son, that the bride chosen for you by your father’s policy has, by an elopement with a more ardent lover (who followed her hither,) left your hand as free as your heart towards her ever was.