The novels of Charles Brockden Brown, consisting of Wieland;or, The transformation. Arthur Mervyn; or, Memoirs of the year 1793. Edgar Huntly; or, Memoirs of a sleep-walker. Jane Talbot. Ormond; or, The secret witness. Clara Howard; or, The enthusiasm of love. With a memoir of the author.

TItE SECRET WITNESS.

153

This address was heard by Ormond without surprise;
but his countenance betrayed the acuteness of his feelings. The bitterness that overflowed his heart was perceptible in his tone when he spoke:" ost egregiously are you deceived. Such is the line
with which human capacity presumes to fathom futurity.
With all your discernment, you do not see that marriage
would effectually destroy me. You do not see that,
whether beneficial or otherwise in its effects, marriage is
impossible. You are merely prompting me to suicide:
but how shall I inflict the wound? Where is the weapon?
See you not that I am powerless? Leap, say you, into
the flames. See you not that I am fettered? Will a
mountain move at your bidding, sooner than I in the path
which you prescribe to me?"
This speech was inexplicable. She pressed him to
speak less enigmatically. Had he formed his resolution?
If so, arguments and remonstrances were superfluous.
Without noticing her interrogatories, he continued:"I am too hasty in condemning you. You judge, not
against, but without, knowledge. When sufficiently informed, your decision will be right. Yet how can you
be ignorant? Can you for a moment contemplate yourself and me, and not perceive an insuperable bar to this
union?"
"You place me," said Constantia, "in a very disagreeable predicament. I have not deserved this treatment from you. This is an unjustifiable deviation from
plain dealing. Of what impediment do you speak? I
can safely say that I know of none."
"Well," resumed he, with augmented eagerness, "I
must supply you with knowledge. I repeat, that I perfectly rely on the rectitude of your judgment. Summon
all your sagacity and disinterestedness, and choose for
me. You know in what light Helena has been viewed
by me. I have ceased to view her in this light. She
has become an object of indifference. Nay, I am not
certain that I do not hate her,-not, indeed, for her
own sake, but because I love another. Shall I marry
her whom I hate, when there exists one whom I love
with unconquerable ardour.?"