did not acquaint her mother with her intentions, lest that judicious parent should disapprove of the measure adopted; but, for the first time in her life, ventured to act upon her individual responsibility.

Never, perhaps, was a runaway couple more excusable, or entitled to more charity, than were Henry and Rebecca, as they rode to an adjoining state, where the marriage ceremony could be performed lawfully, without the intention of the parties having been previously made known to the community. They were pronounced 'man and wife,' received a testimonial of the fact to take with them from the clergyman, and returned to the home of the friend before mentioned, in a few hours after Rebecca left her home.

Many young ladies, situated as was this unfortunate girl, would have at once told a kind mother, as was hers, all that she had done; but Rebecca knew that it would occasion this dear parent regret, to learn that she had resorted to such a step, and for that reason resolved not to inform her of it, until after the lapse of a few days, at least.

Henry and Rebecca both wished to have her father know that they were married, yet dreaded the moment when a knowledge of the fact should reach him. They agreed together, that it would be best to live separately, as before. In doing so, however, they were not happy. The bare thought that they were thus acting the part of deceivers, notwithstanding their strong inducements to do so, disturbed them, and preyed upon the spirits of the hitherto confiding and ingenuous daughter.

Often did she weep, in view of her father's unkindness,

and wish that he possessed a heart to enjoy the blessings so lavishly bestowed upon him by a benign Providence.

It is presumed that Rebecca is already forgiven for the erring, premature step she has taken, by the reader, who sees in his or herself, faults, if not as glaring as the one under consideration, yet such as call for the exercise of that charity which vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, thinketh no evil, believeth all things, hopeth all things.' It is also believed, that even the callous-hearted father will be regarded with a more softened feeling, as his history is further traced, and the deep anguish of his soul seen, in enduring the afflictions which the indulgence of avarice had procured for him.

Secret revealed

becca's health

CHAPTER XIII.

Sternness of Mr. Dunbar - Its effect upon ReJames exposed to Danger from the Turks - Sickness of Rebecca-Dr. Felton-Reconciliation-Death of Rebecca -Remorse of her Father.

Mrs. Dunbar was quick to perceive the uneasiness of her daughter, but imputed it to the stern treatment the gentle girl daily received from her father; and dreamed not that there was in her breast a feeling of self-reproach commingling with that of sorrow.

It has been said that Rebecca was lovely; it was true, also, of her that

'Outward loveliness was index fair
Of purity within

She had been the almost constant companion of her mother, and by her cheerfulness and innocent vivacity had beguiled that loved friend of many an hour of sad reflection. The least change in her was, therefore, a source of anxiety to Mrs. Dunbar, who would, if possible, to benefit her dear child, have sacrificed even life itself.

This lady affectionately communicated her feelings to her one day, as they sat together in the sitting-room. Rebecca, who well understood the character of this loved parent, was not altogether unprepared to learn the fact,

that the happiness of her mother was affected by the feelings she was conscious of having betrayed; and, weary of concealment, she unbosomed all her heart, with the same delightful, child-like confidence with which she had ever been accustomed to treat her mother.

On becoming acquainted with the important truth, that Rebecca had formally entrusted her earthly happiness to the keeping of one who, in her opinion, was a suitable companion for her, various emotions were excited in her breast. She could not reprove Rebecca, though grieved at the idea of what they both would suffer from the unrestrained violence of the feelings of her misguided husband, when he should be informed of the fact that his daughter had acted so decidedly in opposition to his fondest wishes.

As Mrs. Dunbar remained silent a short time, after the disclosure above-alluded to had been made, her daughter was fearful she had incurred her displeasure, and said, affectionately putting her arms around her mother's neck, 'You will forgive me, mother, will you not?'

'I do, my child, most heartily forgive you,' replied the mother; yet fear you have been the means of making both yourself and me unhappy, perhaps, during life.'

'I hope not,' answered Rebecca. 'I do hope that ere many months have passed, my father will think differently from what he has done heretofore. It may be that when he is aware that I am under the legal control of another, he will cease to mention the subject that has, of late, shed so much gloom throughout our dwelling. It was the hope of this which induced me to do as I have done, without consulting you, as I was apprehensive that you would disapprove of the course I wished to pursue.'

6

'I should have advised you to act differently,' said Mrs. Dunbar, still, it is not a matter of surprise to me that you have yielded thus to your inclinations. You cannot recall the past, but you will now be called to exercise much meekness, and a temper of mind that may, if possi ble, reconcile your father to you, as I am confident he will be offended with both Henry and yourself.'

6

Is it best, mother, to inform him that I am married now,' asked Rebecca, or shall it remain a secret to him, until it may be hinted by some one of the friends to whom it is known?'

'By no means, my dear child,' answered her mother; 'act no longer a double part, no matter how great may be the temptation; it is ignoble to do so; and you will feel degraded in your own estimation if you attempt to practice anything bordering upon dissimulation. Wherein you have done wrong, it will be magnanimous to confess it; go to your father and tell him, with that reverence which becomes a child, the whole truth, and then entreat his clemency; this is the only right way.'

'I am convinced that I ought to do so, immediately,' replied the daughter, 'yet how can I perform a task so hard?'

'Look for help,' said the mother, to that rock which is higher than you.'

'I will try to,' faintly responded Rebecca; upon which her mother arose and left her daughter alone in the room. Mrs. Dunbar had not been absent long, when, on looking out of the window, the trembling daughter saw her father approaching the house. Her first impulse, if obeyed, would have led her to leave the room; but, after a