deceive the unsuspicious, kind-hearted Algernon. He detected the
artifice, and scorned the hypocrite. Instead of absenting himself from
the family circle for a few hours, he was now abroad all day, and
sometimes for a whole week, without leaving any clue to discover his
favorite haunts.

Mark at length took the alarm. A jealous fear shot through his brain,
and he employed spies to dog his path. His suspicions were confirmed
when he was at length informed by Grenard Pike, the gardener's son, that
Mr. Algernon seldom went a mile beyond the precincts of the park. His
hours, consequently, must be loitered away in some dwelling near at
hand. Algernon was not a young man of sentimental habits. He was neither
poet nor bookworm, and it was very improbable that he would fast all day
under the shade of forest boughs, watching, like the melancholy Jacques,
the deer come down to the stream to drink.

Where were his walks so likely to terminate as at the widow's cottage?
What companion could the home-tired child of pleasure find so congenial
to his tastes as the young and beautiful Elinor Wildegrave? There was
madness in the thought! The passion so carefully concealed, no longer
restrained by the cautious maxims of prudence, like the turbulent
overflowing of some mighty stream, bore down all before it in its
headlong course. Several days he passed in this state of jealous
excitement. On the evening of the fourth, his mental agony reached a
climax; unable to restrain his feelings, he determined to brave the
anger of his father, the sneers of the world, and the upbraidings of his
own conscience, declare his attachment to Elinor, and ask her to become
his wife.

He never for a moment suspected that the orphan girl could refuse the