Never before having had occasion to throw a gloss on her actions, she
scarcely looked up during breakfast. When the cloth was removed, she
rose suddenly from her chair, and turning to Miss Dorothy, who sat at
the other end of the parlor, with her foot on a stool, said in a low
voice, "Good-by, aunt! I am going to make some particular calls; but
I shall be back in a few hours." Luckily, no one observed her
blushing face whilst she spoke, nor the manner in which she shook
hands with the old lady and hurried out of the room.
Breathless with confusion, she could scarcely stand when she arrived
in her own chamber; but aware that no time ought to be lost, she tied
on a long, light silk cloak, of sober gray, over her white morning-
dress, and covering her head with a straw summer bonnet, shaded by a
black lace veil, hesitated a moment within her chamber-door--her eyes
filling with tears, drawn from her heart by that pure spirit of truth
which had ever been the guardian of her conduct! Looking up to
heaven, she sunk on her knees, and exclaimed with impetuosity,
"Father of mercy! thou only knowest my heart! Direct me, I beseech
thee! Let me not commit anything unworthy of myself nor of the
unhappy Constantine--for whom I would sacrifice my life, but not my
duty to thee!"
Reassured by the confidence which this simple act of devotion
inspired, she took her parasol and descended the stairs.
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