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"Don't mention foreign lands, Charles, unless you wish to add to my distress."

"Well, I won't."

"But what has my father done for you at the Admiralty ?"

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Why, I don't know; but I suppose his influence and that of my friend Admiral Nettleleaf are now busily employed to get me posted."

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My dear Charles, if you have not any better interest than this, you may spare your anxiety; my father, believe me, employs all his influence for himself."

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"Fiddle-di-di-have not I heard

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"Let me hear it."

“You have heard enough; come,

my dear sir, 'tis time to prepare for going. Come, come, Mr. Barber, get your dressing case packed up, for I am going to ring for Harriet."

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"But when shall I see you "To-morrow. Won't you come tomorrow? My hairdresser comes every day."

"If you wish it."

"Nay! I do not wish it, if you

will not come."

"I will, my sweet!"

"Then to-morrow you shall hear all

my sorrows.

Don't look sad, sir, for

you cannot guess my tale of mystery." "Did you ring, Miss?"

Yes, Harriet, the hairdresser is

going."

"Here! here! Charles! do let me put this on your finger; and when time shall soften the hardness of that diamond, may December's icicles hang round your sweet's heart."

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"Adieu, Caroline."

Charles as he left the room could not help exclaiming, "O modesty! O virtue is this the pleasing illusion of a dream, or is it the effusion of a heart filled with the purest affection that ever descended from the skies? Does this unsuspecting and innocent girl but embellish the goodness of her heart by embodying the chastest affection that ever shone amongst mortals? But what heart did she speak of icicles hanging around; mine? no; that they never will." He had forgotten the words, "her own." "Then by a com. plaisant dissimulation she wishes to reduce me to the visionary pleasure of illusion. But that cannot be; she is unhappy, and she believes herself miserable till I know her little griefs. Ah! how true it is, the sacrifices of true love are made in the heart, and under the veil of mystery."

But it would require a volume to tell all that passed in Charles's mind that day. He went home from the tailor's, and shut himself up in a dark room till evening, ruminating on all that Caroline had said to him, and conjuring up a thousand pleasant and disagreeable ideas on the results he drew from this strange visit to the daughter of his admiral. The thought of a disclosure confounded his reason and stifled his passion. The hopes of success encouraged him to reflect, and between fear and hope his whole powers were dissipated by the reverie into which he was plunged; he stirred not from his apartments till the servant entered the room, and asked if he were not going to the rout at Lady B.'s that evening.

"Is it night, James?"

"It is, sir."

"I am indifferently unwell to-night;

get me a light supper, I'll go to bed early."

Next day he arose early, went to the tailor's, sent for his artist, and got painted and dressed in the habiliments of Bobbin John the barber, and went to the admiral's. Caroline was at the door of the study to receive him. He ventured to salute her; and she, with a little reluctance and the blush of a friend, offered him at first her cheek. Her affection, esteem, and sincerity could not do less; innocence, virtue, and love would not do more. But to his embrace she clung, forgetful whether the neck of her father or that of Charles supported her trembling and agitated frame. 'Twas one of those attitudes the artist but seldom can transiently glance at, and which WEST might have studied with scientific delight. Neither Charles nor Caroline could remember how long

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