It was handed to him while he was in full tide of gay and successful conversation, in a whole room-full of company.
He turned deadly pale when he saw the writing, but still preserved his composure, and finished the playful warfare of badinage which he was at the moment carrying on with a lady opposite; and, a short time after, was missed from the circle.

In his room, alone, he opened and read the letter, now worse than idle and useless to be read.

It was from her, giving a long account of a persecution to which she had been exposed by her guardian's family, to lead her to unite herself with their son: and she related how, for a long time, his letters had ceased to arrive; how she had written time and again, till she became weary and doubtful; how her health had failed under her anxieties, and how, at last, she had discovered the whole fraud which had been practised on them both.

The letter ended with expressions of hope and thankfulness, and professions of undying affection, which were more bitter than death to the unhappy young man.

He wrote to her immediately: "I have received yours,--but too late.