to Sir Edmund’s pursuits, and to her own trials, but by bestowing her hand on another.  The first dawning of this idea was accompanied by the most violent burst of anguish; but, far from driving away the painful subject, she strove to render it less appalling by dwelling upon it, and labouring to reconcile herself to what seemed her only plan of conduct.  She acknowledged to herself that, to remain still single, a prey to Sir Edmund’s importunities and the continual temptations of her own heart, was, for the sake of present indulgence, submitting to a fiery ordeal, from which she could not escape unblamable without the most repeated and agonising conflicts.

Three months still remained for her of peace and liberty, after which Sir Duncan would go to Edinburgh.  There she would be sure of meeting with the loved companion of her youthful days; and the lurking weakness of her own breast would then be seconded by the passionate eloquence of the being she most loved and admired upon earth.

She wrote to him, repeating her former arguments; declaring that she could never feel herself absolved from the promise she had given Lady Audley but by that lady herself, and imploring him to abandon a pursuit which would be productive only of lasting pain to both.

Her arguments, her representations, all failed in their effect on Sir Edmund’s impetuous character.  His answer was short and decided; the purport of it, that he should see her in Edinburgh the moment she arrived there.

“My fate then is fixed,” thought Alicia, as she read this letter; “I must finish the sacrifice.”

The more severe had been the struggle between love and victorious duty, the more firmly was she determined to maintain this dear-bought victory.

Alicia’s resolution of marrying was now decided, and the opportunity was not wanting.  She had become acquainted, during the preceding winter in Edinburgh, with Major Douglas, eldest son of Mr. Douglas of Glenfern.  He had then paid her the most marked attention; and, since her return to the country, had been a frequent visitor at Sir Duncan’s.  At length he avowed his partiality, which was heard by Sir Duncan with pleasure, by Alicia with dread and submission.  Yet she felt less repugnance towards him than to any other of her suitors.  He was pleasing in his person; quiet and simple in his manners; and his character stood high for integrity, good temper, and plain sense.  The sequel requires little further detail.  Alicia Malcolm became the wife of Archibald Douglas.

An eternal constancy is a thing so rare to be met with, that persons who desire that sort of reputation strive to obtain it by nourishing the ideas that recall the passion, even though guilt and sorrow should go hand in hand with it.  But Alicia, far from piquing herself in the lovelorn pensiveness she might have assumed, had she yielded to the impulse of her feelings, diligently strove not only to make up her mind to the lot which had devolved to her, but to bring it to such a frame of cheerfulness as should enable her to contribute to her husband’s happiness.