Clara took my hand and said--

"My poor Harry, so we are going to part. I am going to Italy."

"To Italy, Clara? Oh! no--say no. Italy! I shall never see you again."

"Won't you wear this ring for me, Harry? It is an old favourite of
yours--and when we meet again"--

"Oh! dearest Clara," I said, "do not speak thus."

"Good by, my poor boy, good by," said Clara hurriedly; and, rushing
out of the room, she was lifted by Mortimer into the carriage, who,
immediately jumping in after her, the whip cracked, the horses clattered,
and all was out of sight in a second.

"Why is she gone with him?" said I, reproachfully, turning towards my
aunt.

"Why, my dear, a very sufficient reason. She was married this morning."

This was my first love.




CHAPTER XXXVI.

WISE RESOLVES.