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,

comprehended this scene, gave vent to her affliction in
sobs. Her mistress turned to her:
" Cheer up, my Lucy. We shall do well enough, my
girl. Our state i's bad enough, without doubt, but despair will make it worse."
The anxiety that occupied her mind related less to herself than to her father. He indeed, in the present instance, was exposed to prosecution. It was he who was
answerable for the debt, and whose person would be
thrown into durance by the suit that was menaced. The
horrors of a prison had not hitherto been experienced or
anticipated. The worst evil that she had imagined was
inexpressibly inferior to this. The idea had in it something terrific and loathsome. The mere supposition of
its being possible was not to be endured. If all other
expedients should fail, she thought of nothing less than
desperate resistance. No. It was better to die than to
go to prison.
For a time she was deserted of her admirable equanimity. This, no doubt, was the result of surprise. She
had not yet obtained the calmness necessary to deliberation. During this gloomy interval, she would perhaps
have adopted any scheme, however dismal and atrocious,
which her father's despair might suggest. She would not
refuse to terminate her own and her father's unfortunate
existence by poison or the cord.
This confusion of mind could not exist long. It gradul
ally gave place to cheerful prospects. The evil perhaps
was not without its timely remedy. The person whom
she had set out to visit, when her course was diverted by
Craig, she once more resolved to apply to; to lay before
him, without reserve, her father's situation, to entreat
pecuniary succour, and to offer herself as a servant in his
family, or in that of any of his friends who stood in need
of one. This resolution in a slight degree consoled her;
but her mind had been too thoroughly disturbed to allow
her any sleep during that night.
She equipped herself betimes, and proceeded with a
doubting heart to the house of Mr. Melbourne. She was
informed that he had risen, but was never to be seen at so
early an hour. At nine o'clock he would be disengaged,