My heart reproved me for listening, I crept back to my chamber—shed one tear—heaved a convulsive, struggling, sigh—breathed on my handkerchief, applied it to my eyes, and joined my friends in the library.

Four months had rapidly passed—'the spot of azure in the cloudy sky'—of my destiny. Mr Morton, I was informed, had returned to the Park, and Augustus, whose health was now thoroughly restored, talked of quitting the country. I advised with my friends, who agreed with me, that it was now become proper for me to visit my uncle, and, explaining to him the late events, justify my conduct. Mrs Harley and her son offered to accompany me; but this, for many reasons, I declined; taking my leave of them with a heavy heart, and promising, if I were not kindly received, an immediate return.

CHAPTER XXIII

On my arrival at Mr Morton's, the porter informed me, he was ordered by his lady, to deny my entrance. My swelling heart!—a sentiment of indignation distended it almost to suffocation.—At this moment, Anne tripped lightly through the court-yard, and, seeing me, ran to embrace me. I returned her caresses with warmth.

'Ah!' said she, 'you are not, you cannot be, guilty. I have been longing to see you, and to hear all that has happened, but it was not permitted me.' She added, in a whisper, 'I cannot love my mother, for she torments and restrains me—my desire of liberty is stronger than my duty—but I shall one day be able to outwit her.'

'Will not your father, my love, allow me to speak with him? I have a right to be heard, and I demand his attention.'

'He is in his dressing-room,' said Ann, 'I will slide softly, to him, and tell him you are here.'

Away she flew, and one of the footmen presently returned, to conduct me to his master. I found him alone, he received me with a grave and severe aspect. I related to him, circumstantially, the occurrences which had taken place during his absence. My words, my voice, my manner, were emphatic—animated with the energy of truth—they extorted, they commanded, they, irresistibly, compelled assent. His features softened, his eyes glistened, he held out his hand, he was about to speak—he hesitated a moment, and sighed. At this instant, Mrs Morton burst into the room, with the aspect of a fury—her bloated countenance yet more swelled and hideous—I shrunk back involuntarily—she poured forth a torrent of abuse and invective. A momentary recollection reassured me—waiting till she had exhausted her 

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