M." "P.S .-- Tell Isabella that I would rather cut the knight's throat after all, and end the dilemma that way, than see her constrained to marry him against her will." When Isabella had read this letter, it dropped from her hand, and she would, at the same time, have fallen from her chair, had she not been supported by her father.
"My God, my child will die!" exclaimed Vere, the feelings of nature overcoming, even in HIS breast, the sentiments of selfish policy; "look up, Isabella--look up, my child--come what will, you shall not be the sacrifice--I will fall myself with the consciousness I leave you happy--My child may weep on my grave, but she shall not--not in this instance--reproach my memory." He called a servant.--"Go, bid Ratcliffe come hither directly." During this interval, Miss Vere became deadly pale, clenched her hands, pressing the palms strongly together, closed her eyes, and drew her lips with strong compression, as if the severe constraint which she put upon her internal feelings extended even to her muscular organization.

Then raising her head, and drawing in her breath strongly ere she spoke, she said, with firmness,--"Father, I consent to the marriage." "You shall not--you shall not,--my child--my dear child--you shall not embrace certain misery to free me from uncertain danger." So exclaimed Ellieslaw; and, strange and inconsistent beings that we are! he expressed the real though momentary feelings of his heart.
"Father," repeated Isabella, "I will consent to this marriage." "No, my child, no--not now at least--we will humble ourselves to obtain delay from him; and yet, Isabella, could you overcome a dislike which has no real foundation, think, in other respects, what a match!--wealth--rank--importance." "Father!" reiterated Isabella, "I have consented." It seemed as if she had lost the power of saying anything else, or even of varying the phrase which, with such effort, she had compelled herself to utter.
"Heaven bless thee, my child!--Heaven bless thee!--And it WILL bless thee with riches, with pleasure, with power." Miss Vere faintly entreated to be left by herself for the rest of the evening.
"But will you not receive Sir Frederick ?" said her father, anxiously.
"I will meet him," she replied, "I will meet him--when I must, and where I must; but spare me now." "Be it so, my dearest; you shall know no restraint that I can save you from.

Do not think too hardly of Sir Frederick for this,--it is an excess of passion." Isabella waved her hand impatiently.
"Forgive me, my child--I go--Heaven bless thee.

At eleven--if you call me not before--at eleven I come to seek you." When he left Isabella she dropped upon her knees--"Heaven aid me to support the resolution I have taken--Heaven only can--O, poor Earnscliff! who shall comfort him?
and with what contempt will he pronounce her name, who listened to him to-day and gave herself to another at night! But let him despise me--better so than that he should know the truth--let him despise me; if it will but lessen his grief, I should feel comfort in the loss of his esteem." She wept bitterly; attempting in vain, from time to time, to commence the prayer for which she had sunk on her knees, but unable to calm her spirits sufficiently for the exercise of devotion.

As she remained in this agony of mind, the door of her apartment was slowly opened..