of himself; till she actually thought she would tell Ann--a bitter
recollection then roused her out of her reverie; and aloud she begged
forgiveness of her.

By these kind of conflicts the day was lengthened; and when she went to
bed, the night passed away in feverish slumbers; though they did not
refresh her, she was spared the labour of thinking, of restraining her
imagination; it sported uncontrouled; but took its colour from her
waking train of thoughts. One instant she was supporting her dying
mother; then Ann was breathing her last, and Henry was comforting her.

The unwelcome light visited her languid eyes; yet, I must tell the
truth, she thought she should see Henry, and this hope set her spirits
in motion: but they were quickly depressed by her maid, who came to tell
her that she had heard of a vessel on board of which she could be
accommodated, and that there was to be another female passenger on
board, a vulgar one; but perhaps she would be more useful on that
account--Mary did not want a companion.

As she had given orders for her passage to be engaged in the first
vessel that sailed, she could not now retract; and must prepare for the
lonely voyage, as the Captain intended taking advantage of the first
fair wind. She had too much strength of mind to waver in her
determination but to determine wrung her very heart, opened all her old
wounds, and made them bleed afresh. What was she to do? where go? Could
she set a seal to a hasty vow, and tell a deliberate lie; promise to
love one man, when the image of another was ever present to her--her
soul revolted. "I might gain the applause of the world by such mock
heroism; but should I not forfeit my own? forfeit thine, my father!"