AS I am in the way of confessions I may as well acknowledge that,about this time, I paid more attention to dress than ever I haddone before. This is not saying much - for hitherto I had been alittle neglectful in that particular; but now, also, it was nouncommon thing to spend as much as two minutes in the contemplationof my own image in the glass; though I never could derive anyconsolation from such a study. I could discover no beauty in thosemarked features, that pale hollow cheek, and ordinary dark brownhair; there might be intellect in the forehead, there might beexpression in the dark grey eyes, but what of that? - a low Grecianbrow, and large black eyes devoid of sentiment would be esteemedfar preferable. It is foolish to wish for beauty. Sensible peoplenever either desire it for themselves or care about it in others.If the mind be but well cultivated, and the heart well disposed, noone ever cares for the exterior. So said the teachers of ourchildhood; and so say we to the children of the present day. Allvery judicious and proper, no doubt; but are such assertionssupported by actual experience?

We are naturally disposed to love what gives us pleasure, and whatmore pleasing than a beautiful face - when we know no harm of thepossessor at least? A little girl loves her bird - Why? Becauseit lives and feels; because it is helpless and harmless? A toad,likewise, lives and feels, and is equally helpless and harmless;but though she would not hurt a toad, she cannot love it like thebird, with its graceful form, soft feathers, and bright, speakingeyes. If a woman is fair and amiable, she is praised for bothqualities, but especially the former, by the bulk of mankind: if,on the other hand, she is disagreeable in person and character, herplainness is commonly inveighed against as her greatest crime,because, to common observers, it gives the greatest offence; while,if she is plain and good, provided she is a person of retiredmanners and secluded life, no one ever knows of her goodness,except her immediate connections. Others, on the contrary, aredisposed to form unfavourable opinions of her mind, anddisposition, if it be but to excuse themselves for theirinstinctive dislike of one so unfavoured by nature; and VISA VERSAwith her whose angel form conceals a vicious heart, or sheds afalse, deceitful charm over defects and foibles that would not betolerated in another. They that have beauty, let them be thankfulfor it, and make a good use of it, like any other talent; they thathave it not, let them console themselves, and do the best they canwithout it: certainly, though liable to be over-estimated, it is agift of God, and not to be despised. Many will feel this who havefelt that they could love, and whose hearts tell them that they areworthy to be loved again; while yet they are debarred, by the lackof this or some such seeming trifle, from giving and receiving thathappiness they seem almost made to feel and to impart. As wellmight the humble glowworm despise that power of giving lightwithout which the roving fly might pass her and repass her athousand times, and never rest beside her: she might hear herwinged darling buzzing over and around her; he vainly seeking her,she longing to be found, but with no power to make her presenceknown, no voice to call him, no wings to follow his flight; - thefly must seek another mate, the worm must live and die alone.

Such were some of my reflections about this period. I might go onprosing more and more, I might dive much deeper, and disclose otherthoughts, propose questions the reader might be puzzled to answer,and deduce arguments that might startle his prejudices, or,perhaps, provoke his ridicule, because he could not comprehendthem; but I forbear.

Now, therefore, let us return to Miss Murray. She accompanied hermamma to the ball on Tuesday; of course splendidly attired, anddelighted with her prospects and her charms. As Ashby Park wasnearly ten miles distant from Horton Lodge, they had to set outpretty early, and I intended to have spent the evening with NancyBrown, whom I had not seen for a long time; but my kind pupil tookcare I should spend it neither there nor anywhere else beyond thelimits of the schoolroom, by giving me a piece of music to copy,which kept me closely occupied till bed-time. About eleven nextmorning, as soon as she had left her room, she came to tell me hernews. Sir Thomas had indeed proposed to her at the ball; an eventwhich reflected great credit on her mamma's sagacity, if not uponher skill in contrivance. I rather incline to the belief that shehad first laid her plans, and then predicted their success. Theoffer had been accepted, of course, and the bridegroom elect wascoming that day to settle matters with Mr. Murray.

Rosalie was pleased with the thoughts of becoming mistress of AshbyPark; she was elated with the prospect of the bridal ceremony andits attendant splendour and eclat, the honeymoon spent abroad, andthe subsequent gaieties she expected to enjoy in London andelsewhere; she appeared pretty well pleased too, for the timebeing, with Sir Thomas himself, because she had so lately seen him,danced with him, and been flattered by him; but, after all, sheseemed to shrink from the idea of being so soon united: she wishedthe ceremony to be delayed some months, at least; and I wished ittoo. It seemed a horrible thing to hurry on the inauspiciousmatch, and not to give the poor creature time to think and reasonon the irrevocable step she was about to take. I made nopretension to 'a mother's watchful, anxious care,' but I was amazedand horrified at Mrs. Murray's heartlessness, or want of thoughtfor the real good of her child; and by my unheeded warnings andexhortations, I vainly strove to remedy the evil. Miss Murray onlylaughed at what I said; and I soon found that her reluctance to animmediate union arose chiefly from a desire to do what executionshe could among the young gentlemen of her acquaintance, before shewas incapacitated from further mischief of the kind. It was forthis cause that, before confiding to me the secret of herengagement, she had extracted a promise that I would not mention aword on the subject to any one. And when I saw this, and when Ibeheld her plunge more recklessly than ever into the depths ofheartless coquetry, I had no more pity for her. 'Come what will,'I thought, 'she deserves it. Sir Thomas cannot be too bad for her;and the sooner she is incapacitated from deceiving and injuringothers the better.'

The wedding was fixed for the first of June. Between that and thecritical ball was little more than six weeks; but, with Rosalie'saccomplished skill and resolute exertion, much might be done, evenwithin that period; especially as Sir Thomas spent most of theinterim in London; whither he went up, it was said, to settleaffairs with his lawyer, and make other preparations for theapproaching nuptials. He endeavoured to supply the want of hispresence by a pretty constant fire of billets-doux; but these didnot attract the neighbours' attention, and open their eyes, aspersonal visits would have done; and old Lady Ashby's haughty, sourspirit of reserve withheld her from spreading the news, while herindifferent health prevented her coming to visit her futuredaughter-in-law; so that, altogether, this affair was kept farcloser than such things usually are.

Rosalie would sometimes show her lover's epistles to me, toconvince me what a kind, devoted husband he would make. She showedme the letters of another individual, too, the unfortunate Mr.Green, who had not the courage, or, as she expressed it, the'spunk,' to plead his cause in person, but whom one denial wouldnot satisfy: he must write again and again. He would not havedone so if he could have seen the grimaces his fair idol made overhis moving appeals to her feelings, and heard her scornfullaughter, and the opprobrious epithets she heaped upon him for hisperseverance.

'Why don't you tell him, at once, that you are engaged?' I asked.

'Oh, I don't want him to know that,' replied she. 'If he knew it,his sisters and everybody would know it, and then there would be anend of my - ahem! And, besides, if I told him that, he would thinkmy engagement was the only obstacle, and that I would have him if Iwere free; which I could not bear that any man should think, andhe, of all others, at least. Besides, I don't care for hisletters,' she added, contemptuously; 'he may write as often as hepleases, and look as great a calf as he likes when I meet him; itonly amuses me.'

Meantime, young Meltham was pretty frequent in his visits to thehouse or transits past it; and, judging by Matilda's execrationsand reproaches, her sister paid more attention to him than civilityrequired; in other words, she carried on as animated a flirtationas the presence of her parents would admit. She made some attemptsto bring Mr. Hatfield once more to her feet; but finding themunsuccessful, she repaid his haughty indifference with stillloftier scorn, and spoke of him with as much disdain anddetestation as she had formerly done of his curate. But, amid allthis, she never for a moment lost sight of Mr. Weston. Sheembraced every opportunity of meeting him, tried every art tofascinate him, and pursued him with as much perseverance as if shereally loved him and no other, and the happiness of her lifedepended upon eliciting a return of affection. Such conduct wascompletely beyond my comprehension. Had I seen it depicted in anovel, I should have thought it unnatural; had I heard it describedby others, I should have deemed it a mistake or an exaggeration;but when I saw it with my own eyes, and suffered from it too, Icould only conclude that excessive vanity, like drunkenness,hardens the heart, enslaves the faculties, and perverts thefeelings; and that dogs are not the only creatures which, whengorged to the throat, will yet gloat over what they cannot devour,and grudge the smallest morsel to a starving brother.

She now became extremely beneficent to the poor cottagers. Heracquaintance among them was more widely extended, her visits totheir humble dwellings were more frequent and excursive than theyhad ever been before. Hereby, she earned among them the reputationof a condescending and very charitable young lady; and theirencomiums were sure to be repeated to Mr. Weston: whom also shehad thus a daily chance of meeting in one or other of their abodes,or in her transits to and fro; and often, likewise, she couldgather, through their gossip, to what places he was likely to go atsuch and such a time, whether to baptize a child, or to visit theaged, the sick, the sad, or the dying; and most skilfully she laidher plans accordingly. In these excursions she would sometimes gowith her sister - whom, by some means, she had persuaded or bribedto enter into her schemes - sometimes alone, never, now, with me;so that I was debarred the pleasure of seeing Mr. Weston, orhearing his voice even in conversation with another: which wouldcertainly have been a very great pleasure, however hurtful orhowever fraught with pain. I could not even see him at church:for Miss Murray, under some trivial pretext, chose to takepossession of that corner in the family pew which had been mineever since I came; and, unless I had the presumption to stationmyself between Mr. and Mrs. Murray, I must sit with my back to thepulpit, which I accordingly did.

Now, also, I never walked home with my pupils: they said theirmamma thought it did not look well to see three people out of thefamily walking, and only two going in the carriage; and, as theygreatly preferred walking in fine weather, I should be honoured bygoing with the seniors. 'And besides,' said they, 'you can't walkas fast as we do; you know you're always lagging behind.' I knewthese were false excuses, but I made no objections, and nevercontradicted such assertions, well knowing the motives whichdictated them. And in the afternoons, during those six memorableweeks, I never went to church at all. If I had a cold, or anyslight indisposition, they took advantage of that to make me stayat home; and often they would tell me they were not going againthat day, themselves, and then pretend to change their minds, andset off without telling me: so managing their departure that Inever discovered the change of purpose till too late. Upon theirreturn home, on one of these occasions, they entertained me with ananimated account of a conversation they had had with Mr. Weston asthey came along. 'And he asked if you were ill, Miss Grey,' saidMatilda; 'but we told him you were quite well, only you didn't wantto come to church - so he'll think you're turned wicked.'

All chance meetings on week-days were likewise carefully prevented;for, lest I should go to see poor Nancy Brown or any other person,Miss Murray took good care to provide sufficient employment for allmy leisure hours. There was always some drawing to finish, somemusic to copy, or some work to do, sufficient to incapacitate mefrom indulging in anything beyond a short walk about the grounds,however she or her sister might be occupied.

One morning, having sought and waylaid Mr. Weston, they returned inhigh glee to give me an account of their interview. 'And he askedafter you again,' said Matilda, in spite of her sister's silent butimperative intimation that she should hold her tongue. 'Hewondered why you were never with us, and thought you must havedelicate health, as you came out so seldom.'

'He didn't Matilda - what nonsense you're talking!'

'Oh, Rosalie, what a lie! He did, you know; and you said - Don't,Rosalie - hang it! - I won't be pinched so! And, Miss Grey,Rosalie told him you were quite well, but you were always so buriedin your books that you had no pleasure in anything else.'

'What an idea he must have of me!' I thought.

'And,' I asked, 'does old Nancy ever inquire about me?'

'Yes; and we tell her you are so fond of reading and drawing thatyou can do nothing else.'

'That is not the case though; if you had told her I was so busy Icould not come to see her, it would have been nearer the truth.'

'I don't think it would,' replied Miss Murray, suddenly kindlingup; 'I'm sure you have plenty of time to yourself now, when youhave so little teaching to do.'

It was no use beginning to dispute with such indulged, unreasoningcreatures: so I held my peace. I was accustomed, now, to keepingsilence when things distasteful to my ear were uttered; and now,too, I was used to wearing a placid smiling countenance when myheart was bitter within me. Only those who have felt the like canimagine my feelings, as I sat with an assumption of smilingindifference, listening to the accounts of those meetings andinterviews with Mr. Weston, which they seemed to find such pleasurein describing to me; and hearing things asserted of him which, fromthe character of the man, I knew to be exaggerations andperversions of the truth, if not entirely false - things derogatoryto him, and flattering to them - especially to Miss Murray - whichI burned to contradict, or, at least, to show my doubts about, butdared not; lest, in expressing my disbelief, I should display myinterest too. Other things I heard, which I felt or feared wereindeed too true: but I must still conceal my anxiety respectinghim, my indignation against them, beneath a careless aspect;others, again, mere hints of something said or done, which I longedto hear more of, but could not venture to inquire. So passed theweary time. I could not even comfort myself with saying, 'She willsoon be married; and then there may be hope.'

Soon after her marriage the holidays would come; and when Ireturned from home, most likely, Mr. Weston would be gone, for Iwas told that he and the Rector could not agree (the Rector'sfault, of course), and he was about to remove to another place.

No - besides my hope in God, my only consolation was in thinkingthat, though he know it not, I was more worthy of his love thanRosalie Murray, charming and engaging as she was; for I couldappreciate his excellence, which she could not: I would devote mylife to the promotion of his happiness; she would destroy hishappiness for the momentary gratification of her own vanity. 'Oh,if he could but know the difference!' I would earnestly exclaim.'But no! I would not have him see my heart: yet, if he could butknow her hollowness, her worthless, heartless frivolity, he wouldthen be safe, and I should be - ALMOST happy, though I might neversee him more!'

I fear, by this time, the reader is well nigh disgusted with thefolly and weakness I have so freely laid before him. I neverdisclosed it then, and would not have done so had my own sister ormy mother been with me in the house. I was a close and resolutedissembler - in this one case at least. My prayers, my tears, mywishes, fears, and lamentations, were witnessed by myself andheaven alone.

When we are harassed by sorrows or anxieties, or long oppressed byany powerful feelings which we must keep to ourselves, for which wecan obtain and seek no sympathy from any living creature, and whichyet we cannot, or will not wholly crush, we often naturally seekrelief in poetry - and often find it, too - whether in theeffusions of others, which seem to harmonize with our existingcase, or in our own attempts to give utterance to those thoughtsand feelings in strains less musical, perchance, but moreappropriate, and therefore more penetrating and sympathetic, and,for the time, more soothing, or more powerful to rouse and tounburden the oppressed and swollen heart. Before this time, atWellwood House and here, when suffering from home-sick melancholy,I had sought relief twice or thrice at this secret source ofconsolation; and now I flew to it again, with greater avidity thanever, because I seemed to need it more. I still preserve thoserelics of past sufferings and experience, like pillars of witnessset up in travelling through the vale of life, to mark particularoccurrences. The footsteps are obliterated now; the face of thecountry may be changed; but the pillar is still there, to remind mehow all things were when it was reared. Lest the reader should becurious to see any of these effusions, I will favour him with oneshort specimen: cold and languid as the lines may seem, it wasalmost a passion of grief to which they owed their being:-

Oh, they have robbed me of the hopeMy spirit held so dear;They will not let me hear that voiceMy soul delights to hear.

They will not let me see that faceI so delight to see;And they have taken all thy smiles,And all thy love from me.

Well, let them seize on all they can; -One treasure still is mine, -A heart that loves to think on thee,And feels the worth of thine.

Yes, at least, they could not deprive me of that: I could think ofhim day and night; and I could feel that he was worthy to bethought of. Nobody knew him as I did; nobody could appreciate himas I did; nobody could love him as I - could, if I might: butthere was the evil. What business had I to think so much of onethat never thought of me? Was it not foolish? was it not wrong?Yet, if I found such deep delight in thinking of him, and if I keptthose thoughts to myself, and troubled no one else with them, wherewas the harm of it? I would ask myself. And such reasoningprevented me from making any sufficient effort to shake off myfetters.

But, if those thoughts brought delight, it was a painful, troubledpleasure, too near akin to anguish; and one that did me more injurythan I was aware of. It was an indulgence that a person of morewisdom or more experience would doubtless have denied herself. Andyet, how dreary to turn my eyes from the contemplation of thatbright object and force them to dwell on the dull, grey, desolateprospect around: the joyless, hopeless, solitary path that laybefore me. It was wrong to be so joyless, so desponding; I shouldhave made God my friend, and to do His will the pleasure and thebusiness of my life; but faith was weak, and passion was toostrong.

In this time of trouble I had two other causes of affliction. Thefirst may seem a trifle, but it cost me many a tear: Snap, mylittle dumb, rough-visaged, but bright-eyed, warm-heartedcompanion, the only thing I had to love me, was taken away, anddelivered over to the tender mercies of the village rat-catcher, aman notorious for his brutal treatment of his canine slaves. Theother was serious enough; my letters from home gave intimation thatmy father's health was worse. No boding fears were expressed, butI was grown timid and despondent, and could not help fearing thatsome dreadful calamity awaited us there. I seemed to see the blackclouds gathering round my native hills, and to hear the angrymuttering of a storm that was about to burst, and desolate ourhearth.