268 The Portrait : a Sketch. [MARCH, 



the pressure of a hand upon my temples. I looked up. It was her's 

 she was chafing them. The sight of her recalled at once the full pos- 

 session of my faculties. I looked around, and saw we were alone. I 

 sprung from a couch upon which I had been stretched, and throwing 

 myself at the fair creature's feet, poured forth the passion of my soul in 

 a strain of vehement eloquence, of which before that moment I had 

 never been the master. She listened to me without lifting her eyes, 

 till I was silent. Then slowly raising them, she fixed them upon me 

 with an expression that pierced me to the soul, and gave me indescrib- 

 able anguish. " The designs of Providence are inscrutable," said she, 

 with another deep-drawn sigh. " I know not to what it has destined 

 me ! Forget me, Sir ! Forget me ! Would to Heaven ! 



" I can wait no longer !" said her friend, looking into the parlour. 



She started upon her feet for she had been sitting and hastily 

 moved a step or two towards the door. I as hastily followed her, 

 catching her by the hand to detain her " Would to Heaven what?" 

 I exclaimed. 



" That I had never seen you/' was her reply ; and by a sudden effort 

 she withdrew the hand which I was holding. 



" Follow me not !" added she. " Attempt not to detain me !" Her 

 hand was upon the lock of the door. She paused looked at me till 

 her eyes seemed to strain again raised her right hand to her lips. I 

 waited not to allow her to complete the action which I anticipated I 

 sprang towards her she vanished, closing the door after her ; in the 

 act of re-opening which, I heard the hall-door shut ; I followed, and 

 tried to open it. In my trepidation I could not find the way. It was 

 presently opened from without, and the servant entered, followed by a 

 person whom I concluded to be her master, and who opposed my egress. 

 An explanation ensued. It was a medical gentleman, whom the servant 

 had gone to fetch. She had been alone in the house, immediately oppo- 

 site which I had been knocked down had witnessed the transaction 

 and readily suffered me to be brought in, attended by the lovely being 

 in whose cause I had suffered. I hastily recompensed each, and sallied 

 forth, but all trace of the dear unknown one was lost. It totally escaped 

 my recollection at the time, that, by applying at the glove-shop, I could 

 have got a clue to her. 



I rose the next morning in a state of bodily, as well as mental fever, 

 and wandered through the streets as chance directed me. In turning a 

 corner, I came right against somebody. 



" Hallo !" cried Armstrong. " Are you walking in your sleep ? 

 Rouse you, my merry man ! Heavens !" he exclaimed, when I looked 

 at him, " what the mischief is the matter with you ?" I unburthened 

 my heart to him as we walked together. As we were passing St. 

 Thomas's, a friend of his issued from the church, and apparently in a 

 state of considerable excitation. " What's the matter with you ?'' ex- 

 claimed Armstrong. 



" A murder is doing in that church !" 



" A murder !" 



" Yes ; they are sacrificing a young heart to Plutus. I know the 

 parties. The story is told in three words. It is the daughter of an 

 English gentleman of reduced circumstances. She has taken the fancy 

 of a young man of fortune, who has just returned from his travels. 

 Her heart was disengaged, and her parents prevailed upon her to accept 



