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CHAPTER XI.

"I'll be so bold to break the seal for once."

Two Gentlemen of Verona.

As soon as the Westalls were gone, Caroline rose to leave her father's room. 66 Stop for one moment, my child," said he, "I hope that the experience of this day and evening has taught you, if not to be more generous in your judgments, to be more careful in the expression of them. I think you cannot fail to learn this lesson from the story of the blind child, which has furnished the solution to those mysterious morning walks, and that more mysterious night's absence which perplexed you so much, while you had nothing else to employ your thoughts upon."

"Yes, sir, that riddle is read; but Miss Bruce has been so good as to give out another, which even you may be puzzled to solve."

"I shall not make the effort, Caroline. I entreat you to atone by your attentions to Miss Bruce for your unjust suspicions, and for your rudeness this evening; common justice requires that you should do so; and besides, I can assure you, it will not be an easy matter to efface the impression that your unfortunate remarks in relation to her have made on Westall's mind."

"I care not, sir, whether they are effaced or not," replied Caroline, sullenly.

"Pursue your own way then, Miss Redwood. I shall not attempt to guide you."

"Thank you, sir," replied the danghter in a cool sarcastic tone which she could sometimes assume; and then wishing her father a good night, she retired to her own apartment in a state of mind resembling that of a petted child deprived of its playthings.

She was surprised to find that Ellen, who had of late been constantly with Mrs. Allen, was already in her room. Ellen, believing that Caroline was still occupied with her guests, had taken her precious casket from one of her drawers, had placed it on the window-ledge, and was sitting in a deep reverie with her cheek leaning on it, when Caroline's entrance startled and somewhat disconcerted her.

We ought not perhaps to draw aside the veil and disclose her secret meditations. It is better to appeal to the experience of other young ladies to determine whether it is not probable that the thoughts of Westall, and of the animated interest he had expressed for her, had not some part in her reverie, and whether the pleasure he had awakened did not more than counterbalance the pain Caroline had inflicted. There was a newly-fallen tear on the box which would not perhaps justify such a conclusion, but then her face was so bright and peaceful, that a malignant spirit might have

shrunk in despair from the attempt to cast a shadow over it. She rose at Caroline's entrance to replace the box in the drawer. "Ah," said Caroline, "that is your precious casket-is it, Miss Bruce? pray allow me to look at it." She took it from Ellen's hand, and carelessly shaking it, said, "it is quite light, there is something rattles though-should it be a miniature? Lord! I would open it, perhaps the painting will be spoiled-I should like of all things to know whether it is a hoax-now do not look so like a tragedyqueen-all I mean is that it may have been a way your mother adopted to save your feelings-after all, perhaps it is nothing, it is not larger than one of my jewel cases."

"It contains all my jewels, Miss Redwood; perinit me to take it,” replied Ellen with some emotion; for she could no longer endure to see that handled and discussed with so much levity, which she had never touched but with a sentiment resembling religious awe.

While Ellen replaced the box in the drawer, Caroline watched her, saying at the same time, (for she was displeased at Ellen's manner of resuming it) "I cannot have the slightest curiosity about the contents of your box, of course, Miss Bruce-but if they were as important to me as they are to you, I should not hesitate: it is quite silly to suppose there would be any harm in just taking a peep." "My mind is entirely at rest on the subject," replied Ellen. "There are feelings, Miss Redwood,

that can control curiosity-even the most natural and reasonable curiosity. I am sorry that my poor concerns have been obtruded on your notice, but since they have been, the greatest favour you can do me now is to forget them;" then bidding Caroline good night, she returned to Mrs. Allen.

'Forget them,' Caroline could not-the demon of curiosity had taken possession of her mind. She had suffered injurious thoughts of Ellen till she had come to consider her as an enemy of whom it was right to take any advantage. Her self-importance had been mortified by the deference paid to Ellen by the Lenoxes-her self-love offended by her father's excessive admiration. Caroline had the passions of a strong character, and the habits of a weak one. In her idleness her thoughts had brooded over Ellen's conduct, till she had magnified the most trivial circumstances into a ground of alarm or anxiety, but since the arrival of Charles Westall she had almost forgotten her, and quite forgotten her silly fancy of the danger of what she called a sentimental affair' between Ellen and her father.

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The events of the

day and evening had thrown a strong light on her rival, and cast her quite into the shade: this was enough to relume the fires of envy in Caroline's bosom, if they were not already kindled by the interest Westall had manifested in Ellen.

A most convenient opportunity now offered to gratify her curiosity, perhaps to confirm her maficious conjectures. It was possible that the key

to one of her trinket cases might open Ellen's box; there could be no harm in trying just to see if one would suit. She drew out the drawer in which she had seen Ellen replace her casket, and then paused for a moment--but, 'c'est le premier pas qui coûte;" the first wrong step taken, or resolved on, the next is easy and almost certain. She carried the box to the light, found a key that exactly fitted, and then the gratification could not be resisted.

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She opened the box-a miniature laid on the top of it. Caroline started at the first glance as it' she had seen a spectre-she took it out and examined it—a name legibly written on the reverse of the picture confirmed her first impressions. She replaced it in the box-she would have given worlds that she had never seen it but the bold, bad deed, was done; and, past who can recall, or done undo?' After pacing the room for a few moments in agitation of mind bordering on distraction, she returned to the examinatin of the box: there was in it a letter directed To my child.'it was unsealed, unless a tress of beautiful hair which was bound around it might be called a seal. There was also a certificate of the marriage of Ellen's mother to the original of the picture. Caroline's first impulse was to destroy the records : she went to the window, threw up the sash, and prepared to give Ellen's treasure to the disposition of the winds-but as she unbound the lock of hair that she might reduce the letter to fragments,

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