that she is on the point of being dragged to a loathsome dungeon, for
want of the paltry sum of fifty pounds! Retrospection may convince the
man of her heart, that her soul is superior to mercenary considerations;
else, she would not now be reduced so low in the power of her enemies:
she scarcely knows what she writes--her heart bleeds--her brain is on
fire!

"'Celestial sounds! Peace dawns upon my soul,
And every pain grows less. Oh! gentle Altamont,
Think not too hardly of me when I'm gone,
But pity me. Had I but early known
Thy wond'rous worth, thou excellent young man,
We had been happier both. Now 'tis too late.
And yet my eyes take pleasure to behold thee!
Thou art their last dear object.--Mercy, Heav'n!'

"Your affectionate,
"And (shall I confess it?)
"Too affectionate,
"ALICIA."

Marvel was settling some accounts with Wright when this note was put
into his hands: scarcely had he glanced his eye over it, when he started
up, seized a parcel of bank notes, which lay on the table, and was
rushing out of the room. Wright caught hold of his arm, and stopped him
by force.

"Where now? What now, Marvel?" said he.

"Do not stop me, Wright! I will not be stopped! She has been barbarously