Listen to me, Gertrude, you will condemn me, be it so; but I implore, I beseech you to believe me true." Then, without further hesitation, Caroline briefly yet circumstantially related all those events in her life with which our readers are so well acquainted.

She did not suppress one point, or endeavour in the least to excuse herself, and Lady Gertrude, as she listened to that unvarnished tale of youthful error, felt her heart glow more warmly towards her companion, and her eye glisten in sympathy for the pain she felt Caroline was inflicting on herself.

Lady Gertrude could feel for others; twice had her carriage been announced, but she heeded not the summons; a third came just as Caroline had ceased to speak, and silently she rose to depart.

She met the imploring look of her young friend, and folding her to her heart, she said, in a low and gentle voice-- "Ask not me, my dearest girl; St.Eval shall come and speak for himself." She kissed her affectionately, and was gone.
Caroline seated herself on a low couch, and closing her eyes on every outward object, she gave herself up to thought.

Might she indeed be happy--were the errors of her former years so forgiven, that she would indeed be blessed with the husband of her choice?
Had St.Eval so conquered pride as again to seek her love--would the blessing of her parents now sanctify her marriage?
it could not be, it was too much bliss--happiness of which she was utterly unworthy.