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.

THE ENTHUSIASM OF LOVE.

85

conjured to complete his own happiness and that of a
worthier woman.
" There were many generous pleas by which my cousin
might have accounted for her conduct: she knew that
the marriage he offered would never be crowned with her
father's consent; that, on the contrary, his hatred.and
vengeance would pursue them forever; that Wilmot would
thereby forfeit the honour already plighted to another,
would inflict exquisite misery on that other and on himself, and would forever cut himself off from that road to
fortune which had now been opened to him.
"She was candid enough to confess that these considerations, though powerful, did not singly dictate her
conduct. Her heart was in reality full of grief: despondency and horror took possession of her whole soul.
She hoped to protract the discovery of her personal con*dition to a very late period, and then, when further concealment was hopeless, designed to put I violent end to
life and all its cares.
"Meanwhile, Wilmot's conscience being somewhat relieved by my cousin's answer, he gave himself up without
restraint to the pleasurable prospects before him. The
day of happiness was near at hand; he had little leisure
for any thing but the offices of love and tenderness, and
was engaged on the evening of a fine day to accompany
his mistress, with a numerous party, on a rural excursion.
The carriage, ready to receive them, was at the door, and
he only waited in a court before the house till the lady
had adjusted her dress for the occasion.
"His mistress, Adela, having made the requisite adjustments, came out. She looked around for her lover in
vain. Some accident, it was easily imagined, had called
him for a few moments away. She collected patience to
wait; but she waited and expected in vain. Night came,
and one day succeeded another, but Wilmot did not appear. Inquiries were set on foot, and messengers were
despatched; but Wilmot had entirely vanished.
" Some intelligence was at last gained of him. It appeared that, while walking to and fio in the court, two
persons had come up to him, and after a short dialogue
had retired with him to an inn; there they had been