Q\ 'tHE TWO MONUMENTS. 



His landlady apologised by saying he was very unwell; but she 

 would at once infonn him of my arrival. After waiting about a 

 quarter of an hour, I heard a step in the passage ; the door opened, 

 and in walked my friend Harry. But oh, how altered ! His once 

 fine manly form was withered, and shrunk to nothing ; his eyes, 

 which once used to sparkle with delight, were now dull and spirit- 

 less ; his countenance was sad ; and disease had plainly stamped 

 his hand upon his brow. On my rising to receive him, he held out 



his hand and said — "Thanks, dear T- for this visit; I have 



long been wishing for you." 



" You would have had me sooner, my dear Harry, had I known 

 you had been ill ; but I only arrived home two days ago, and finding, 

 among other con'espondence, letters from you hastened down here 

 as your last letter requested " 



" For which you have my thanks. But let us have some break- 

 fast, when you shall hear my short but melancholy history." 



Breakfast was ordered in, and we sat down ; I with a traveller's 

 appetite, Harry with that of an invalid. After a few moment's 

 silence my friend began. 



"You will, perhaps, remember T , the ball we attended 



while staying with our friend C , about six months ago." 



" Yes, and the fair stranger too." 



" Well, of her I have to speak. I need not explain to you what 

 passed between Miss Harcourt and myself up to the time I wrote 

 to my father : you know all that, and his reply. But you do not 

 know what has occurred since ; I will tell you. After receiving that 

 cursed letter, you will remember I left C Hall, and imme- 

 diately proceeded to Emily's lodgings. She was in and alone. In 

 a short time, with the usual quick perception of her sex, she saw 

 something was wrong ; hi a few minutes she wrung from me the 

 contents of that letter— nay, the letter itself. She scanned over its 

 harsh sentences, each word of which was a dagger to her heart ; she 

 wept, oh! how the dear girl wept! while I, I who loved her so 

 much,— whose very existence was wi'apt up in the being before me, 

 stood silent. Silent! but why? — not for want of words — not 

 because I did not feel ; but fearing, had I spoken, it would have 

 been to curse the writer of that fatal letter — aye to curse my father ! 

 While thus occupied," continued Mordant, after a long pause, 

 " Emily's mother entered, and seeing her daughter in such distress. 



