her a prey to the Asura of ingratitude; how else should she regret that the genii have plucked a flower from the garden of happiness, and planted it in the breast of her benefactor? She could never be that flower-even if she could dare the wrath of Brahma by the wish for a union with a stranger and an enemy, would the high and mighty among his race, whose smile is courted by the first and fairest of his own people, bestow a thought beyond his pity on the poor and simple Hindu? When did the palm, that rears his lofty head to catch the first kiss of the Maruts, as they come from the fields of heaven, stoop from his height to regard the pale flower that breathes out its little life at his feet?"

CHAPTER VI.

"If I have veiled my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am

Of late with passions of some difference,

onceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviour."

SHAKESPEARE.

WHEN any violent emotion has occupied the mind, it is generally wise to place a night's rest between it and any determination to which we may come, either on the motion itself, or its immediate consequences. There are comparatively few who are able to preserve their judgments cool and unbiassed in the midst of strong excitement; and it is often a matter of surprise

E

to ourselves that the object shall present itself the next day under an aspect so totally different that we scarcely recognize it as the same. Edgar, with the benefit of this soothing influence, sat down to examine the events of the previous day; and having freely admitted to himself that his heart had become subdued by the fascinations of the lovely and brilliant Clara, considered the interview on the course by no means so conclusive against him as he had first thought it. He reflected that he had no further ground than his own apprehensions, for the supposition that Martindale was actually his rival ; and even if it were so, the manner of Clara towards him, which at the time had seemed to mark her preference as decidedly as if it had been declared in actual words, seemed now very easily to resolve itself into the natural feelings of a relative, a little warmed by a reunion after years of absence. He was finishing his reverie by resolving to ascertain, if possible, the precise nature of Martindale's future views, following up the resolution with the soldierly determination, if he found them hostile to his own, not to

yield the prize without a struggle, when he was not a little surprized to hear his chaprassy announce "Martindale saib;" and the next moment found himself in the presence of his supposed rival.

Despite his prepossession against him, he could not but be struck with the open ingenuousness of his countenance, as he entered, and the manly frankness of his tone as he spoke—

"I am come, Captain Arlington, to make a fuller apology for having once thought hardly of you, than I had an opportunity of doing on the course last evening."

"Really, sir, none is necessary at all," said Edgar.

"I owe it both to you and to myself," replied Martindale; "I owe it to you, because I find that a gross misrepresentation of your conduct. led me to think and speak of you unjustly; and I owe it to myself, because if, after discovering that I had been betrayed into an error, I was capable of withholding the only reparation in my power, I should forfeit all self esteem. E 2

We

all fall into mistakes occasionally; this is the weakness of human nature: some, after having been led into a wrong through ignorance, will persist in it through obstinacy; this is littleness of mind and moral cowardice."

The candid manner of this advance, and the look and tone of perfect sincerity with which it was made, could not fail of finding a correspondent feeling in so generous and undisguising a heart as Edgar's. He might be the rival of such a man, but he at once felt that he could not be his foe; and the extended hand was clasped as cordially as it was tendered.

"This is quite a load taken off my shoulders," observed Martindale; "for I hate enmity as I do a dun. Mankind is one great family, and if the worst passions of our nature have so long influenced the race that we can no longer think of universal peace and love, except when we light our cigars, and dream of Utopia, we may still carry the principle in our own hearts, and those hearts will be all the better for it."

"I wish your notions were more generally acted on," replied Edgar; "the world would