certainly he, with his two attendants, as he turned into a side-path
which led to the house!  A confused recollection of having seen
somebody who resembled him, immediately occurred, to puzzle and
torment her with endless conjectures.  Five minutes sooner, and
she should have seen his face, and been out of suspense--was ever
any thing so unlucky!  His steady, bold step, and the whole air of
his person, bursting as it were from a cloud, pleased her, and gave
an outline to the imagination to sketch the individual form she
wished to recognize.

     Feeling the disappointment more severely than she was willing
to believe, she flew to Rousseau, as her only refuge from the idea
of him, who might prove a friend, could she but find a way to
interest him in her fate; still the personification of Saint Preux,
or of an ideal lover far superior, was after this imperfect model,
of which merely a glance had been caught, even to the minutiae of
the coat and hat of the stranger.  But if she lent St. Preux, 
or the demi-god of her fancy, his form, she richly repaid him by the
donation of all St. Preux's sentiments and feelings, culled to
gratify her own, to which he seemed to have an undoubted right,
when she read on the margin of an impassioned letter, written in
the well-known hand--"Rousseau alone, the true Prometheus of
sentiment, possessed the fire of genius necessary to pourtray the
passion, the truth of which goes so directly to the heart."

     Maria was again true to the hour, yet had finished Rousseau,
and begun to transcribe some selected passages; unable to quit
either the author or the window, before she had a glimpse of the
countenance she daily longed to see; and, when seen, it conveyed
no distinct idea to her mind where she had seen it before.  He must
have been a transient acquaintance; but to discover an acquaintance
was fortunate, could she contrive to attract his attention, 
and excite his sympathy.

     Every glance afforded colouring for the picture she was
delineating on her heart; and once, when the window was half open,
the sound of his voice reached her.  Conviction flashed on her;
she had certainly, in a moment of distress, heard the same accents.
They were manly, and characteristic of a noble mind; nay, 
even sweet--or sweet they seemed to her attentive ear.

     She started back, trembling, alarmed at the emotion a strange
coincidence of circumstances inspired, and wondering why she thought
so much of a stranger, obliged as she had been by his timely
interference; [for she recollected, by degrees all the circumstances
of their former meeting.] She found however that she could think
of nothing else; or, if she thought of her daughter, it was to wish
that she had a father whom her mother could respect and love.

CHAPTER 3

WHEN PERUSING the first parcel of books, Maria had, with her pencil,
written in one of them a few exclamations, expressive of compassion
and sympathy, which she scarcely remembered, till turning over the
leaves of one of the volumes, lately brought to her, a slip of
paper dropped out, which Jemima hastily snatched up.

     "Let me see it," demanded Maria impatiently, "You surely are
not afraid of trusting me with the effusions of a madman?" "I must
consider," replied Jemima; and withdrew, with the paper in her
hand.

     In a life of such seclusion, the passions gain undue force;
Maria therefore felt a great degree of resentment and vexation,
which she had not time to subdue, before Jemima, returning, delivered
the paper.

          "Whoever you are, who partake of my fate,
     accept my sincere commiseration--I would have said
     protection; but the privilege of man is denied me.
          "My own situation forces a dreadful suspicion on
     my mind--I may not always languish in vain for freedom--
     say are you--I cannot ask the question; yet I will
     remember you when my remembrance can be of any use.
     I will enquire, why you are so mysteriously detained--
     and I will have an answer.
                                  "HENRY DARNFORD."

     By the most pressing intreaties, Maria prevailed on Jemima to
permit her to write a reply to this note.  Another and another
succeeded, in which explanations were not allowed relative to their
present situation; but Maria, with sufficient explicitness, alluded
to a former obligation; and they insensibly entered on an interchange
of sentiments on the most important subjects.  To write these
letters was the business of the day, and to receive them the moment
of sunshine.  By some means, Darnford having discovered Maria's
window, when she next appeared at it, he made her, behind his
keepers, a profound bow of respect and recognition.

     Two or three weeks glided away in this kind of intercourse,
during which period Jemima, to whom Maria had given the necessary
information respecting her family, had evidently gained some
intelligence, which increased her desire of pleasing her charge,
though she could not yet determine to liberate her.  Maria took
advantage of this favourable charge, without too minutely enquiring
into the cause; and such was her eagerness to hold human converse,
and to see her former protector, still a stranger to her, that she
incessantly requested her guard to gratify her more than curiosity.

     Writing to Darnford, she was led from the sad objects before