themselves to be tormented with ideal misfortunes. He believed that no
happier destiny could befal a young woman than to be his wife; and he
conceived that that termination would amply compensate for any
calamities she might suppose herself to undergo in the interval. He was
therefore easily prevailed upon, by certain temptations which Mr. Tyrrel
knew how to employ, to take part in the plot into which Miss Melville
was meant to be betrayed.

Matters being thus prepared, Mr. Tyrrel proceeded, through the means of
the gaoler (for the experience he already had of personal discussion did
not incline him to repeat his visits), to play upon the fears of his
prisoner. This woman, sometimes under the pretence of friendship, and
sometimes with open malice, informed Emily, from time to time, of the
preparations that were making for her marriage. One day, "the squire had
rode over to look at a neat little farm which was destined for the
habitation of the new-married couple;" and at another, "a quantity of
live stock and household furniture was procured, that every thing might
be ready for their reception." She then told her "of a licence that was
bought, a parson in readiness, and a day fixed for the nuptials." When
Emily endeavoured, though with increased misgivings, to ridicule these
proceedings as absolutely nugatory without her consent, her artful
gouvernante related several stories of forced marriages, and assured her
that neither protestations, nor silence, nor fainting, would be of any
avail, either to suspend the ceremony, or to set it aside when
performed.

The situation of Miss Melville was in an eminent degree pitiable. She
had no intercourse but with her persecutors. She had not a human being
with whom to consult, who might afford her the smallest degree of
consolation and encouragement. She had fortitude; but it was neither