D'Arcy's dressing-room, reading to her the daily paper, my eye at length caught what it had often looked for, yet dreaded to see,-the marriage of the Marquis of St. George with Lady Emily Loran.

The ceremony took place in Dublin, from which city (it was announced) the noble and happy pair set off for Loranville Castle, to pass the honeymoon.

I had no sooner seen this dreadful paragraph than I was seized with an intolerable faintness and giddiness, against which I strove in vain, for in a few minutes I fell senseless on the floor. It was a considerable time before I recovered, and when I did, I was in my own room, with dear kind Lady Eustace hanging over and supporting me. I found afterwards that when I fainted, my terrified mistress rang the bell with violence for assistance, while at the same moment Lady Eustace was announced.

The latter lady, after seeing me conveyed to my room, returned to her friend to ascertain the cause of my illness; and upon her mention

ing that I was seized while reading the paper, Lady Eustace carelessly ran her eyes over it, and all her former suspicions were at once confirmed, as she read the announcement which had overwhelmed me.

Faithful to her promise, she gave no hint to Mrs. D'Arcy, but, as soon as she could, came to assist and comfort me.

Never while I live shall I forget her tenderness and delicacy as she whispered consolation, and assured me that my unhappy secret was safe with her. Had she been my own sister she could not have acted with more affectionate solicitude. While she assured me of her sincere sympathy, she conjured me to exert myself to banish from my mind one who had so cruelly deceived me, and who was now the husband of another.

I listened with deep attention and gratitude to her consolation and advice, which I promised to endeavour to follow.

I have often thought since, what would have become of me if I had not had the gentle and judicious support, and undeviating and con

siderate kindness, I uniformly experienced from this dear and noble friend; and it may be imagined with what grief I bade her adieu the day before we set off for North Wales. And I must not forget to mention the pain with which I parted from an equally kind and generous, though perhaps not so judicious a friend, the affectionate and excellent Mrs. Davies.

Nothing, perhaps, is so well calculated to restore health and spirits as change of air and scene, and I considered myself very fortunate in having, just at this time, this very great advantage, in the society too of such an amiable, sensible, and kind-hearted person as my excellent mistress. She herself seemed to derive new life as she approached her dear native land.

I had then never seen Wales, and looked forwards to a visit to that romantic country with no small degree of interest; and so far from that interest being diminished, it increased every step we made into that delightful region.

My recollections of the Isle of Wight were

most pleasing, and I had fancied that nothing could equal the beauty of its scenery. Here, however, every thing was in a very different style. Majestic mountains, charming valleys, with the clearest and brightest of rivers running through them; waterfalls dashing down the sides of the rocks, with occasional glimpses of some noble ruin, completed and varied each day's scene. The people too have such agreeable manners, are so hospitable and warmhearted, so honest, faithful, and religious, that it seems quite impossible not to love and respect them.

After a delightful journey, which, as we performed it leisurely, did not fatigue Mrs. D'Arcy, we arrived, at the expiration of a fortnight from the day we left London, at Castel-y-maenGwynne, (or the Castle of the Great White Stone,) the ancient abode of the Gwynne's, whose present owner, Sir Howell Gwynne, married the sister of Mrs. D'Arcy.

The meeting of the two sisters was very affecting. They had not seen each other for three years, and I fancied that Lady Gwynne

appeared startled at her sister's altered appearance. The joy, however, of the latter was unalloyed, as she saw her beloved sister looking as blooming as she ever remembered her.

Castle-y-maen-Gwynne was situated in the midst of a romantic, wild-looking park, the grounds of which were undulating and varied by rocks, woods, and waterfalls; while a broad glittering trout stream ran through the centre of the park, and from some of the eminences might be seen the glorious ocean.

The genuine hospitality displayed by the master and mistress of this charming domain, the attentive civility and warm affection shown by the numerous, well-conducted servants and retainers formed a strong contrast to the heartless, dissipated, and disreputable set at the unfortunate Sir Thomas Dryden's.

I could not help also contrasting the quiet splendour, the gracious manners, and happy temper displayed in every act of Sir Howell and Lady Gwynne, with the vulgar, stingy, and unfeeling manners of my first mistress, Lady McJames,