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“How to apologize for myself I know not, nor have I one moment’s time to deliberate. Believe me, I feel my sensibility and delicacy severely wounded; but an ill-fated, uncontrollable passion must plead my excuse. I candidly own that my conduct must appear to you in a strange light; but spare me, I beseech you, all reproaches, and pardon my weakness, for on your generosity and honour must I rely, in this moment of distress.

“A letter of mine–a fatal letter from Dashwood–has fallen into the hands of Miss Helen Temple. All that I hold most dear is at her mercy. I am fully persuaded that, were she to promise to keep my secret, nothing on earth would tempt her to betray me; but I know she has so much the habit of speaking of every thing to her mother, that I am in torture till this promise is obtained. Your influence I must depend upon. Speak to her, I conjure you, the moment breakfast is over; and assure yourself of my unalterable gratitude.

“AUGUSTA —-.”

The moment breakfast was over, Mr. Mountague followed Helen into the library; a portfolio, full of prints, lay open on the table, and as he turned them over, he stopped at a print of Alexander putting his seal to the lips of Hephaestion, whom he detected reading a letter over his shoulder. Helen, as he looked at the print, said she admired the delicacy of Alexander’s reproof to his friend; but observed, that it was scarcely probable the seal should bind Hephsestion’s lips.

“How so?” said Mr. Mountague, eagerly.

“Because,” said Helen, “if honour could not restrain his curiosity, it would hardly secure his secrecy.”

“Charming girl!” exclaimed Mr. Mountague, with enthusiasm. Helen, struck with surprise, and a variety of emotions, coloured deeply. “I beg your pardon,” said Mr. Mountague, changing his tone, “for being so abrupt. You found a letter of Lady Augusta’s last night. She is in great, I am sure needless, anxiety about it.”

“Needless, indeed; I did not think it necessary to assure Lady Augusta, when I returned her letter, that I had not read it. I gave it her because I thought she would not like to have an open letter left where it might fall into the hands of servants. As she has mentioned this subject to you, I hope, sir, you will persuade her of the truth; you seem to be fully convinced of it yourself.”

“I am, indeed, fully convinced of your integrity, of the generosity, the simplicity of your mind. May I ask whether you formed any conjecture, whether you know whom that letter was from?”

Helen, with an ingenuous look, replied–“Yes, sir, I did form a conjecture–I thought it was from you.”

“From me!” exclaimed Mr. Mountague. “I must undeceive you there: the letter was not mine. I am eager,” continued he, smiling, “to undeceive you. I wish I might flatter myself this explanation could ever be half as interesting to you as it is to me. That letter was not mine, and I can never, in future, be on any other terms with Lady Augusta than those of a common acquaintance.”

Here they were interrupted by the sudden entrance of mademoiselle, followed by Dashwood, to whom she was talking with great earnestness. Mr. Mountague, when he had collected his thoughts sufficiently to think of Lady Augusta, wrote the following answer to her letter:–

“Your ladyship may be perfectly at ease with respect to your note. Miss Helen Temple has not read it, nor has she, I am convinced, the slightest suspicion of its contents or its author. I beg leave to assure your ladyship, that I am sensible of the honour of your confidence, and that you shall never have any reason to repent of having trusted in my discretion. Yet permit me, even at the hazard of appearing impertinent, at the still greater hazard of incurring your displeasure, to express my most earnest hope that nothing will tempt you to form a connexion, which I am persuaded would prove fatal to the happiness of your future life. I am, with much respect, Your ladyship’s obedient servant, F. MOUNTAGUE.”