proving, that courted, admired, as he could not but feel he was by all around him, his noble hostess perhaps excepted, yet all was as nothing, now that her favour had been so strangely and suddenly withdrawn.  His tone, his manner, as he presented to her a note from Annie, of which he had been the bearer, strengthened this illusion; and Caroline, as she retired to rest, felt more and more convinced they were indeed mutually and devotedly attached, and that her obedience to her parents could not weigh against the duty she owed herself, the love he had evinced for her.  Annie’s note strengthened this determination.

“I give you joy, my dear Caroline,” she wrote, “on the opportunity you will now enjoy of receiving Lord Alphingham’s attentions, undisturbed by any of those wayward fancies which have lately so destroyed your peace.  Do not, for heaven’s sake, by squeamish notions of filial obedience and dutiful conduct—­which I do assure you have been very long out of date—­destroy your own happiness.  When parents cease to care for the true welfare and felicity of their children, it becomes our positive duty to care for them ourselves.  Mr. Hamilton has given you no reason for his command to withdraw yourself from the attentions of Lord Alphingham; and surely that is the clearest imaginable proof that he really has none to give, and that it is merely to gratify his own unjust displeasure at your rejection of St. Eval, as if in such matters you had not an undoubted right to decide for yourself.  He cannot suppose that you will now be contented with that which completely crosses your own wishes, merely because he desires it.  That was all very well in your childhood, but at present, when your own reason must be satisfied, he has no right to expect obedience.  The whole conduct of your parents, you have owned to me yourself, has been lately such as to alienate your affection and confidence.  They hold your will enchained, my poor friend; and if you have not the spirit to break it, now a fair opportunity occurs, forgive me, if I say I can no longer offer you consolation.  Lord Alphingham loves you, and long ere this, had it not been for your mother’s extraordinary conduct, would have proposed, and you might have been now a plighted bride, or still happier wife.  I much doubt, by a few hints he dropped, if his late departure from town was not occasioned by Mr. Hamilton’s positive refusal to sanction his addresses to you.  If he has demanded your hand, and been rejected without your knowledge, your father and mother have treated you with much confidence and affection, have they not?  Can they, dare they expect to receive yours, when such is the case?  Is it not a clear proof your happiness is not to be consulted in any marriage you may form?  It is ridiculous to imagine that your mother has penetrated, in some degree, your feelings for Alphingham, though perhaps not to their extent; and not approving of it, for no reason whatever, she desires you to shun his society.  Your father