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"Oh! make way for me to pass, Mr. Harleigh!" now interrupted Juliet, forcing her voice, and striving to force a passage.

"Did you wish, then," said Harleigh, in a tone the most melancholy, "could you wish that I should still languish in harrowing suspense? or burst with ignorance?"

"Oh no!" cried she, raising her eyes, which glistened with tears, "no! If the mystery that so long has hung about me, by occupying your . . ." She sought a word, and then continued: "your imagination, . . . impedes the oblivion that ought to bury me and my misfortunes from further thought,—then, indeed, I ought to be thankful to Sir Jaspar,—and I am thankful that he has let you know, . . . that he has informed you . . ."

She could not finish the sentence.

"Yes!" cried Harleigh with energy, "I have heard the dreadful history of your wrongs! of the violences by which you have suffered, of the inhuman at-

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