doubt united them once more into one.

He altered his route to L------, and despatched from thence a short note
to Emily, imploring her to meet him that evening by the lake, in order to
arrange their ultimate flight. Her answer was brief, and blotted with
her tears; but it was assent.

During the whole of that day, at least from the moment she received
Falkland's letter, Emily was scarcely sensible of a single idea: she sat
still and motionless, gazing on vacancy, and seeing nothing within her
mind, or in the objects which surrounded her, but one dreary blank.
Sense, thought, feeling, even remorse, were congealed and frozen; and the
tides of emotion were still, bid they were ice!

As Falkland's servant had waited without to deliver the note to Emily,
Mrs. St. John had observed him: her alarm and surprise only served to
quicken her presence of mind. She intercepted Emily's answer under
pretence of giving it herself to Falkland's servant. She read it, and
her resolution was formed. After carefully resealing and delivering it
to the servant, she went at once to Mr. Mandeville, and revealed Lady
Emily's attachment to Falkland. In this act of treachery, she was solely
instigated by her passions; and when Mandeville, roused from his wonted
apathy to a paroxysm of indignation, thanked her again and again for the
generosity of friendship which he imagined was all that actuated her
communication, he dreamed not of the fierce and ungovernable jealousy
which envied the very disgrace which her confession was intended to
award. Well said the French enthusiast, "that the heart, the most serene
to appearance, resembles that calm and glassy fountain which cherishes
the monster of the Nile in the bosom of its waters." Whatever reward
Mrs. St. John proposed to herself in this action, verily she has had the