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here, and she knows too that you are too well pleased with each other not to excuse her absence. And so, good people, for the present farewell! I must go to Bing. ley's, in Piccadilly, to look at a new fancy dress. She has the prettiest taste. Well, farewell, I shall meet you again at dinner, and i engage you to-morrow to accompany Agnes and myself to take a second look at my fancy dress. But farewell for the present."

"Dearest Agnes, what should forbid our immediate union?" said he. "I have mentioned in my letter the only foible in the otherwise wholly-faultless character of the Captain. He is resolved that together with his name 1 shall procure that boundless wealth which shall again restore his family to their former pleasure. He has proposed himself our union, as he had previously learned from Lady Priscilla that you were her intended heiress."

Agnes here informed him of his error, and the clause of Lady Priscilla's will, by which the three hundred thousand pounds was settled, only jointly, on herself and Mr. Beachcroft, and that she was to lose

With these words she ran out of the room. "What a pity," said Bellasis, "that so much good humour and under. standing should be thrown away and lost in the levities of fashionable dissipation." Lady Beachcroft here entered the apart-the whole of her share, if consenting to ment, and as Bellasis could no longer con- an union with any other. verse with Agnes, he requested her to give him a private interview on the following morning, to which she consented without scruple.

In her impatience to see Bellasis, Agnes arose earlier than usual on the morning following her visit to the Opera. Every sound at the door quickened the motion of her heart. Bellasis did not appear till a late hour, aud Agnes was about to receive him with some appearance of indignation, when he excused himself as having been detained at one of the public offices.

"The Captain, my father," said he, "bad a fracas at the theatre with a Baronet."

"I hope the affair has gone no farther," said Agnes.

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"It has terminated without danger," continued Bellasis; as the quarrel occurred in so public a place, the gentlemen were observed, and watched home by the police officers. The meeting, the duel, was fixed for six this morning; the partics met, and each fired their first pistol. The Captain's ball went through Sir Harry's hat, the Baronet's passed away with still less effect. The police officers came up, and the parties were conducted before a magistrate every thing was at length terminated to the general satisfaction, and nothing further can ensue."

The conversation now took a more particular direction; Bellasis condoled with Agnes on the loss of Lady Priscilla, and then insensibly proceeded to the subject of his passion.

Before Bellasis had time to answer, Lady Beachcroft entered the room, and the conversation for the remainder of the visit became general. Bellas's was at length compelled to depart, without any further explanation with Agnes. Lady Beachcroft civilly invited him to repeat his visit as often as his leisure would admit.

In no very pleasing mood of mind did Agnes accompany Miss Beachcroft to their room to dress for dinner. "Agnes," said the latter young lady, "I have a secret for you; what will you give me for it?" Nay," replied Agnes, "I cannot tell its worth till I know it."

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"I have more than one," said she; "but I'll tell you them all in order. In the first place, then, you will never have my brother, Mr. Beachcroft. In the sccond place, my brother, Mr. Beachcroft, will never have you; and in the third place, you will be married whether you will or not, before the month is out." Agues reproved her for this trifling.

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Nay, nay, my Lady Mirabel," resumed Miss Beachcroft, you will find what I say is true; you know you cannot marry without your guardian's consent; but he it seems is resolved to have you married whether you consent or not. I can assure you the business is resolved upon, for I overheard every thing.”

"And what did you overhear?" said Agnes.

"Be secret, and I'll tell you, Agnes; for upon my word I love you as well as I should a sister of my own, and therefore will de

as much for you, even against my own father. Well, Mirabel and my father had a long conversation this morning in the library, and you was the subject. The library is separated from the closet in the next room only by a wainscot partition; the closet is large enough to lie snug in, and there is more than one hole in the wainscot. My father, I can assure you, thinks he's very safe and silent, and concealed in his library, but I know more than one of his secrets, and I'll tell them you all some time. Why, would you believe it, my dear, he is not even so true to my mother as he ought to be, for I have seen my lady's maid in the library with him, when he has locked the door, and commanded the servants not to suffer him to be interrupted in his important occupations."

"But tell me," said Agnes, "what they said about me, for I am only concerned with my own affairs."

"Well then, after compliments and so forth," rejoined Miss Beachcroft, " my father asked the wretch, Mirabel you know I mean, whether he loved you as much as he appeared, and whether he thought he could reconcile himself to take you without a farthing? And Mirabel said candidly enough (hang them all, I say, these men are candid enough to one another, extravagant as their compliments are to our faces), and so Mirabel said, no ; that

he certainly intended at length to marry, but that he had a mortgage on his estate, which he expected to be enabled to pay off by his wife's fortune."

"Well, and what's all this to me," said Agnes; how am I concerned with this?"

"You shall hear," said Miss Beach. eroft, “if you will have but patience, but you must let me tell my story my own way. Well, and then my father asked him how much his mortgage was, and Sir Harry said, thirty thousand pounds. Then what would you say to a wife of fifty thousand, said my father; an estate worth thirty thousand, and twenty thou sand in money. And Sir Harry asked, if you would have that, and my father said he would ensure it him: and then they looked over Lady Priscilla's will. And Sir Harry started when he came to the clause which cut you off of your share of the le

gacy unless you married my brother.'Yes,' says my father, the money, in case of her refusal to this intended union, is to be divided between my son and me. I speak candidly, Mirabel, it is to my interest to prevent the union, and thus to obtain my share of the legacy, to which I think I have the better title, as Lady Priscilla was my sister. Assist me in this, and I will engage that the fortune of Agnes shall be worth fifty thousand pounds."

"And what said Mirabel?" demanded Agnes.

"Why an agreement was immediately made, and after some delay you are to become my Lady Mirabel."

"I hope they will ask my consent first," said Agnes.

"No, indeed," replied Miss Beachcroft, "I believe they do not think that a very necessary preliminary; but I have told you all I know, for they went out together to St. James's Coffee-house to conclude the affair.",

This conversation was interrupted by Lady Beachcroft, who invited them, as the day was fine, to accompany her to Kensington Gardens; the coach was at the door, and they accordingly departed together.

The day was brilliant, and the Gardens full. Lady Beachcroft happened to meet an old friend, the Dowager Countess of Shuffleton. Agnes and Miss Beachcroft walked at some distance behind, that they might not interrupt the conversation of the two dear friends. Wearied with the length of their walk, and seeing one of the covered seats before them, Agnes and Miss Beachcroft turned into it, when Agnes met an eye which almost rendered her motionless with terror, though she knew not what she had to fear. It was that of the stranger who had observed her with such a fixed gaze in the theatre. The fellow seized her hand. "Now then," exclaimed he, "who are you, what are you, whence are you?-Speak, for I must know."

These words, and the action which accompanied them, were spoken so quick, that had Agnes been enabled to have returned any answer, she would not have known what to have said. Miss Beachcroft, after the terror of the moment, called out for assistance. The fellow looked out, and

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seeing Lady Beachcroft and her companion, and some gentlemen at the further extremity of the walk, betook himself to flight, and was in a moment concealed amongst the trees.

Agnes had nearly recovered her terror when Lady Beachcroft approached. Upon hearing what had occurred, they concluded that she had been assaulted by a maniac. This conjecture still further augmented the terror of Agnes and Miss Beachcroft, and her mother, at their joint request, hastened to return to their coach, but not before she had accepted for herself, Agnes, and her daughter, an invitation to the Countess of Shuffleton's rout on the following night.

Upon Agnes' return home, she had time to reflect upon her situation in the family of Sir George. She well understood the interested designs of her guardian, and as the surest method of defeating the proposed alliance, she resolved, without furher delay, to declare her decided repugnance to the union with Mr. Beachcroft, and thus at once surrender all right to the invidious legacy. She was persuaded that this would satisfy Sir George, who was only seeking the same ends by other

means.

But what then was to be the end of her love for Bellasis, she knew not; she only knew that justice, honour, and even common honesty, required her immediate sacrifice of the legacy, the conditions of which she was so firmly resolved not to fulfil. Full of this resolution, she inquired whether Sir George was in his library, that she might inform him of her inteutions, but learned that he had gone on a visit out of town, and was not expected home till the evening of the following day.

Agnes thought it more advisable to await his return, than to signify her in tention to Lady Beachcroft, who concerned herself with little but her fashionable dissipation.

Sir Harry was again a guest at dinner, and the only gentleman present. Agnes thought that the offensive freedom of his manners daily increased. Having an opportunity of a few moments, he again earnestly declared his passion, and solicited her pity according to the usual forms. Agnes again repelled him with in

dignation; the Baronet, however, appeared undaunted, and Agnes saw that it would be an affair of no inconsiderable difficulty to rid herself of so importunate

a suitor.

When Agnes was again alone, she could not but reflect on the singular occurrence in the Garden: the more she meditated on the subject, the less was she enabled to understand it. A secret presentiment persuaded her that the incident was of more importance than it appeared, and she found it difficult to persuade herself that the man who had addressed her was but a maniac. She could make nothing of it, however, and therefore endeavoured to banish the subject from her mind.

She happened at this moment to throw her eyes upon her dressing-table, and saw a letter addressed to herself. Opening it with some curiosity, she found its contents as follows:

"All is not gold that glitters, beware; no more at present from a

"FRIEND IN NEED."

Agnes read it again and again, she endeavoured to conjecture the writer; conjecture, however, was vain. It was evi dently one who feared discovery; the orthography was not altogether what it ought to have been. It could not be a servant in the house, for Agnes knew none of them who were in any manner likely to take any interest in her concerns. And to whom could it allude? of this she was equally ignorant. She was in some doubt whether she should shew the billet to Miss Beachcroft, but at length decided in the negative, as that young lady, however cheerful in her humour, and ever frendly to her, was so volatile, that she would have published this incident through the family. Agnes resolved, moreover, to embarrass herself no longer with conjecture, but to wait till the event, or some progress towards it, should explain what she at present so vainly endeavoured to develope.

In thoughts like these Agnes passed a sleepless night, and arose pale, and fatigued in spirits as in strength, on the following morning.

Upon entering the breakfast parlour, to her mingled indignation and surprise,

Mirabel caught her in his arms, and saluted her. Lady Beachcroft only smiled, and Sir Harry, without deigning even an apology, carelessly left the room. Lady Beachcroft rallied her on the blush of indignation which mantled over her face; but Agnes, educated in the modesty of nature, could not reconcile herself to liberties, which a woman of fashion would think sufficiently punished by a tap of her fan.

Sir George had not yet returned; Sir Harry was to accompany them to the rout in the evening, and therefore again dined with them. Agnes was impatient for the return of Sir George, that by satisfying his cupidity by the voluntary surrender of the legacy, she might escape the persecution of Mirabel's further addresses.

Sir George, however, returned not, though it was already a late hour, and the dinner had waited some time. Whilst Agnes was meditating in her mind the part she had to act, Miss Beachcroft abruptly entered the room. "My dearest 66 save me, or 1 Agnes," exclaimed she, am ruined. I shall never be able to shew my face again."

"What has happened?" said Agnes, alarmed, "for Heav'ns sake keep me not in suspense. Let me know the worst."

"Well, promise me, that you will take it upon yourself.”

"Let me know it first," said she, "or you cannot expect me to answer you."

"Well, then," said she, " promise me not to scold, and not to look with a long grave accusing face, and I'll tell it you.Bless my soul," continued she, seating herself at the dressing table, "what a vile glass; why I do protest that I look most horrible in it."

"Well, but you forget that you are ruined," said Agnes, smiling.

“Oh dear, yes, and so I am, my dear, if you do not assist me, my dear. Come, I'll tell you how it is; you must know I took a hand last night with the Dowager Rubout, and whilst mamma's back was turned, we agreed to treble stakes; and so, would you believe it, I have lost a hundred and twenty pounds.”

"Good Heavens," exclaimed Agnes,
how do you mean to pay it?"

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Why, that was what I thought of," said she, "for a long time; and only see how I settled it. Bless me, I shall never get through the story. Hark! they are all below stairs, I do believe, constable and all; you must take it all on yourself, or I am ruined for ever."

Agnes was really alarmed, and intreated her to explain herself more intelligibly.

"Well then, I sent my maid Lyddy,” said she, "to pawn my necklace. You must know there is a famous Jew who

takes in diamonds and trinkets of ladies of
Well, I told Lyddy to go to
fashion.
this Jew, and if any questions were asked
to say it was her own. I forgot, you know,
child, that Lyddy has no business with a
necklace of such value. But all would
have been very well if the girl had gone
to the right person; for the Jew is a man
of fashion, let me tell you, and is accus-
tomed to these things. But instead of
hey, did you ever see any one
that
so horribly flushed as I am, or is it your
glass, child?"

"Well, but finish your story," said Agnes.

"Well, instead of going to the right Jew, as I was saying, you must know she went to the first pawnbroker she met, and so the fellow stopt her, and asked how she came by the necklace; and to make short of the matter, took the poor girl up, and she is now in prison. Lord help me, what is to be done?"

"How did you know all this?" said Agnes.

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Why the girl sent me this letter by a porter, she has kept my secret. Now I'll tell you how we must manage it: you know our necklaces are precisely the same. Here, you must let me put your's on, and you must acknowledge mine as your's, and say, that my father is so miserable, and so close with you, that he compels you to pledge your jewels; and you know he dare not, at least he will not scold you as be would me, should he discover me."

Before Agnes could reply, Lady Beachcroft interrupted the conversation, by summoning them to dinner.

[To be continued.]

THE REFUSAL.

A NOVEL under this title has made its | appearance, within a few weeks, from the pen of Mrs. West, the celebrated authoress of many popular works, which for their imagination, their high strain of morality, and elegant diction, have rarely been equalled in the present age of ephemeral literature. The novels of Mrs. West are not of that class which breaks forth from the shops in periodical abundance, and deluge the town with frivolity and nonsense. We shall, on account of the eminence on which this writer stands, give a copious extract from the present work. The story may easily be connected with the following extract.

Emily Mandeville, an orphan heiress of a large fortune, has been educated with much privacy in the country by her excellent aunt, Lady Selina Delamore. At the age of twenty she comes to reside with her uncle, Sir Walter Mandeville, in Devonshire, an old general of large fortune, and a great humourist. Here she first meets with Lord Avondel, a man nearly double her age, but not too old to be the hero of the piece and Emily's lover. His Lordship is thus introduced:

"Nature had formed the mind of Lord Avondel in one of her most capacious moulds, and all who saw him early in life pronounced him born alike for honourable celebrity and domestic felicity. He had just obtained possession of his estate when he became attached to a lady whose merit and beauty counterbalanced the objection which his friends might form to the smallness of her fortune; and this was still further obviated by her prudence and retired habits. Their union was determined upon, the day was fixed, and the Earl set out for Avon Park to prepare for the reception of his bride. The separation was to be very short, and the intended bridegroom indulged in all those dreams of perfect felicity which a marriage, contracted under the happiest auspices, could suggest to a sanguine temper, animated by a strong attachment to a lovely amiable object. Such was Lord Avondel's situation, when he received a letter from the woman he thus idolized, to tell him this dream of happiness was at an end, that she was imperiously compelled to renounce him for ever; and that as she should never see or hear from him more, No. IV. Vol. I.-N. S.

she called upon him, as he valued his honour and his peace, to forget her, and from that moment consider himself liberated from a most

unhappy engagement. He hastened to her residence; it had been only a temporary one. She and her servants were gone, and had left no clue to discover her retreat. Her letter seemed to be dictated by the deepest anguish of mind, but whether it were the anguish of guilt or of sorrow he knew not. It was a dreadful mystery, but it still remained an uudiscovered one, as from that moment he had neither seen or heard of her proceedings or abode.

"A disappointment so unexpected, so inexplicable, stamped an indelible impression on Lord Avondel's character. To petrifying surprise succeeded the deepest dejection. Somewhat of indignation, however, mingled with his regret. Among the various unfounded conjectures to which this incident gave birth, envy and censoriousness circulated a report, that passion had transgressed the bounds of virtue, and compelled the lady to a temporary retirement. Conscious of innocence, Lord Avondel silently left the improbable calumny to refute itself But a thought shot across his mind-could that angel countenance, where purity seemed to sit blushing at her own attractions, be indeed the vizor of specious blandishment, the treacherous appendage of a polluted person and contaminated soul? and was this obscure elopement the impulse of contrition, or the stern injunction of neces sity, shuddering at impending discovery, and fearing to plunge into aggravated guilt? Away with the unworthy thought! If fiends can speak and look like the holy inhabitants of heaven, what avails discernment.

"Lord Avondel was not one of those meek, tranquil characters who can fold the arms of patience over a bosom throbbing with anguish. Domestic life was now a vacuum, England was a desert. His country's banners were fly. ing on the continent, and under their martial shade he might forget the lover in the soldier. Impelled by a powerful desire of sacrificing that life nobly which he had ceased to value, he joined the allied army, while his wrongs and sorrows furnished conversation for every tea. table in London, and rebusses and acrostics no longer pretended to involve the polite world in superlative perplexity.

"I have already stated, that his merit soon obtained the distinctions which he sought, but A a

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