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.

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ORMOND; OR,

appointed me. I did not think you could act so inhumanly."
"Nay, beloved Constantia, be not so liberal of your
reproaches. Would you have me deceive her? She
must shortly have known it. Could the truth be told
too soon?"
"Much too soon," replied the lady, fervently. "I
have always condemned the maxims by which you act.
Your scheme is headlong and barbarous. Could you not
regard with some little compassion that love which sacrificed, for your unworthy sake, honest fame and the peace
of virtue? Is she not a poor outcast, goaded by compunction, and hooted at by a malignant and misjudging
world? And who was it that reduced her to this deplorable condition? For whose sake did she willingly consent
to brave evils by which the stoutest heart is appalled?
Did this argue no greatness of mind? Who ever surpassed her in fidelity and tenderness? But thus has she
been rewarded. I shudder to think what may be the
event. Her courage cannot possibly support her against
treatment so harsh, so perversely and wantonly cruel.
Heaven grant that you are not shortly made bitterly to
lament this rashness!"
Ormond was penetrated with these reproaches. They
persuaded him for a moment that his deed was wrong;
that he had not unfolded his intentions to Helena with
a suitable degree of gentleness and caution. Little more
was said on this occasion. Constantia exhorted him, in
the most earnest and pathetic manner, to return and
recant, or extenuate, his former declarations. HIe could
not be brought to promise compliance. When he parted
from her, however, he was half resolved to act as she
advised. Solitary reflection made him change this resolution, and he returned to his own house.
During the night he did little else than ruminate on
the events of the preceding evening. IIe entertained
little doubt of his ultimate success with Constantia. She
gratified him in nothing, but left him every thing to
hope. She had hitherto, it seems, regarded him with
indifference; but this had been sufficiently explained.
That conduct would be pursued, and that passion be