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 whTch it was withdrawn on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 for disciplinary action and moy re 
 trenTJcou'Te.ephone Cen.er, M3-8400 
 
 MAR 2 4 19^9 
 
 FEB 2 A 1993
 
 
 A6KES; 
 
 
 OR 
 
 BEAUTY 
 
 AND PLEASURE. 
 
 
 BY 
 
 G. W, 
 
 M. REYNOLDS. 
 
 
 VOL.1. 

 
 AGNES; OB, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 8^3 
 
 4 
 
 ^ 
 
 laPTEK 
 
 
 ind well-to-do attorueys were r?- 
 lea.-«d frnru itirir prufe«8ioiial avocsitionsaD<lsettii;g 
 outoii CouHneutal tours or trips to watering-places. 
 The holidays w.jre at hand ; for Putrliament aad 
 j Westmiaatdr Hall have their breakiug-up days, as 
 O'jn tale opens in the monlh ot Augnst, 1829 well as soUoolt.— though we much question whether 
 That »unu«l period of dissipation and gaiety which | there be so unalloyed a blitheness and so hearty an 
 is called "the London seas lu," had drawn to a | exuberani-,e of the spirits at'eudant upon the euian- 
 oloje; aud all tbrt rank and fashion of the metro- ' cipation of the old hoys from the senate and the 
 polls were hastening ont of town. Members of ' forum as with toe young ones from the desk aud 
 Harliaioent were throwing aside their beuatorial ) the satchel. 
 
 duties to be o9 to the moors: the gentlemen of ' The fashionable world was howoTor going out of 
 No 1.
 
 AOSU: OB, BKIDTT 1.9II FLEIICBI. 
 
 town ; and from tU the mansions of the West , 
 End tiaTelUng-chariots and post-chaisea, Cfowded ' 
 nUh a liring freightage and cumbered with ■ 
 luggage, were rolling away to country-seats 
 or to favourite sea-side resorts, ilarriageuble 
 young ladies, who bad been whirled and waltzed 
 and qaadrilled through the season— but who in. 
 stead of picking up husbands under the BU3pi«s 
 of man*UTring mammas, had caught oalj cada. 
 Terous complexions — were on their way to woo 
 back the colour to their cheeks amidst a rural ^ 
 atmosphere or in sea-breezes ; so that in due lime j 
 they might return, with a renovated bloom, to 
 plunge anew into London dissipations and east the 
 matrimonial net once more in the heated, troubled 
 waters where gold and silver fishes were to be j 
 caught. 
 
 How few of all those denizens of the fashion- 
 able world could look back with satisfaction upon 
 the season which was just over ! Their existence, | 
 instead of having marched with the digni&ed : 
 steps of conscious usefulness, had been partially ; 
 whirled with feverish rapidity through exciting and | 
 wearing dissipations, and had partially dragged 
 itself languidly through pursuits as frivolous as 
 they were enervating. The effects upon health 
 were felt in the fact that those who had worn 
 rouge before, were now compelled to use a 
 deeper tint to cover tiesh wrinkles : while those 
 who had hitherto blushed with their natural bloom, 
 were forced to find a substitute in an artificial hue. 
 And with the loes of all that freshness of beauty, 
 was there no impairing of the freshness of the 
 disposition likewise? 'With the waning of the 
 rose upon the cheeks, was there no withering of 
 all the loveliest flowers of the soul ? While 
 wrinkles gathered upon the brow, were there no 
 hard lines impressing themselves upon the heart? 
 res : for even the crow's-feet that are "raced by 
 lissipation at the corners of Beauty's eyes, are 
 iccompanied in their growth by a corresponding 
 carping of the ioiegination and by a proportionate 
 tnarring of the purity of the fancy. Beauty en- 
 '.ers into fashionable life fair and stainless as the 
 alabaster statue : but after a time she emerges 
 thence like a painted waxen effigy, the picture of 
 everything that is spoilt, tawdry, and meretricious. 
 When the day comes that Beauty finds herself 
 forced to shed the artificial tint of the rose upon 
 her pale and jaded cheeks,— rest assured, gentle 
 reader, that she has arrived at the point when her 
 mind is invested with a corresponding artificiality, 
 and that it is only the outward gloss which con- 
 ceals the hollowness of the heart within. The 
 Genius of Mischief— a hideous hag who conceals 
 her ugliness under a beautiful mask, and whose 
 spiteful sardooism is hidden beneith looks of 
 falsest blandishment— sits at an everlasting spin- 
 ning-wheel, weaving her silken tissues of sin and 
 sorrow for the female votaries of Fashion. 
 
 But the season of 1S29 was over ; and London 
 was going out of town. What food was there for 
 conversation and for scandal during the journey to 
 country-seats and to watering-places !— and how 
 much was there to gossip about until new topics 
 for tittle-tattle, for mysterious confidence, or for 
 bold open slander, should transpire ! Who would 
 have thought that Lady So-and-so should have 
 k<»a ruined, and that the bailiffs were in her 
 WiOM at tk« very time when she gave that but 
 
 brilliant party to a thousand guests I Who co-^d 
 have fancied that the proud and brilliant Hon. 
 Miss Such-a-one could have possibly eloped with ft 
 penniless subaltern in the army ? And how strange 
 it was that another ItUe of fashion should have gone 
 in the very midst of the season to pass a few mont j» 
 at some country. seat of which nu one had ever 
 heard before, and with some old aunt whose exist- 
 ence was apocryphal ? And how infamously young 
 Lord So-and-so had behaved in not proposing to 
 Lady Mary after flirting with her throughout the 
 season!— and what a thorough want of taste did 
 the Hon. Augustas Such-a.one display in remain- 
 ing insensible to the beauty of " mamma's youngest 
 daughter," who had just been brought out! Ah, 
 brought out indeed ! Does not the phrase, — shed 
 what gloss upon it you will, or shroud it in 
 phraseology as delicate and as elegantly mystical 
 as possible,- but does it not mean, we ask, in its 
 naked truthfulness, that the young marringeable 
 daughters of fashion are paraded in gilded saloous 
 before the eyes of titled and wealthy bachelors, in 
 the B«:ne way that a horse-dealer at bis stables 
 leads forth hb animals one after another, and 
 makes them exhibit all their best points to the 
 flats whom he is seeking to eatch f 
 
 Ah ! go, then, to your country-seats and to the 
 watering-places, ye votaries of fashion ! Carry 
 thither yoor reminiscences of the season that is 
 just over— yoitr languid memory of its enjoyments 
 and your rivid sense of its disappointmenw— your 
 recollection of/e(etand waltzes, and your bitter 
 consciousneas of blighted hopes and baffled schem- 
 ings— your gossiping, your scandal, and your 
 slander ! Go thither, likewise, to woo from the 
 firesh air tome slight renovation of that bloom 
 which has been lost in the heated atmosphere of 
 crowded drawing-rooms ! — and peradventure yo 
 may partially succeed. But ye will not win back 
 aught of the genuine freshness of youth— none of 
 that simplicity of mini which began to depart in 
 the very first hour that a masculine arm encircled 
 your waist in the voluptuous dance, and that 
 masculine eyes looked down with Ubertine hardi- 
 hood into your own : ye will not find either at 
 country-seats or watering-places the rejuvenescing 
 springs of those generous impulses of character 
 which have been subdued ^r crushed beneath the 
 Aveight of the gems and jewels which decked 
 you for the saloons of fashion ; — and if you dare 
 look down deep into your own hearts, you can. 
 not shut out from yourselves the conviction that 
 ye have been rendered altered beings by the 
 ordeal of a London season. A mother's pride, as 
 false as it is. frivolous- a dandy's idle flattery— 
 a fop's silly compliment — or an abigail's hollow 
 sycophantic adulation, may tell you, young 
 Beauty ! that you are marvellously improved since 
 you escaped from school-girl restraints and en- 
 tered the great world as a lady of fashion. You 
 may be told that in dress you have acquired a 
 tasteful elegance— that the dance has taught you 
 to step with graceful ease — that you have a 
 statuesque carriage of the head and bust— that 
 your conversation has gained a captivating charm 
 — and Chat your manners have acquired an aiisto. 
 cratic polish : but pause and ask yourself whether 
 in point of real and veritable attractiveness yju 
 have gained by exchanging the genuine gashing 
 freshness of the youthful feelings for the artillc.ai
 
 BEiUIT iHT PLEiS-U-ES. 
 
 friToUties of fashion. No lunger poatcssing your 
 own artless candour, vou mistrust the words «ud 
 the actions of all who are brought in contact with 
 you : you plunge with false excitement into plea- 
 sure, having lost the naturally buoyant spirit 
 which gave its healthful charm to iuooeeut re- 
 creation : you are no longer willing to put favour- 
 able interpretations upon words, nor generous con- 
 structions upon actions : you listen with incre- 
 dulity even to the sublimest truths, should they 
 happen to be told you : you look without a sincere 
 admiration upon things that are really admirable; 
 — and if you should chance to become the victim 
 
 Iof calamity or wrong-doing, it does not render you 
 charitable to the misfortunes, to the sufferings, or 
 the frailties of others. No !— for you are an 
 I altered being: your mind is warped, your imagi- 
 nation is led astray, and your fancy is fevered by 
 the sinister influences of that idol of fashion at 
 whose shrine you have become a votary. 
 
 It was the beginning of the month of August, 
 in the year 1829, as we have already said,— when, 
 a little after eight o'clock in the evening, a young 
 gentleman issued from the coffee-room of a 
 fashionable West End Hotel, where he had been 
 dining. He was about twenty-three years of age 
 — tail and well made. Without being handsome, 
 he might be termed good-looking; for the slight 
 flush of wine that was now upon his countenance 
 concealed the traces of dissipation which wou'.d 
 have otherwise been apparent. His hair was 
 dark : he had 6ne eyes, but somewhat thickly pen. 
 cilled brows — a rather large mouth, but a very 
 good set of teeth. He was dressed with con- 
 siderable elegance ; and though there was a cer- 
 tain air of the libertine about him, yet bis 
 bearing and his manners bespoke him to be, by 
 social position, a gentleman. 
 
 Pausing for an instant upon the threshold of the 
 hotel, he yawned and looked languidly up and 
 down the street, as if at a loss what next to do 
 with himself. And such was the fact. The 
 breaking-up of the season had just taken his 
 usual companions out of town— while he, for a 
 very good reason, was* compelled to remain in 
 liondon. In truth, he had no country-seat of his 
 own, nor any wealthy friends who appeared to 
 esteem him sulEciently to invite him to one: while 
 his purse was too slender and his resources too 
 much exhausted to enable hira to stand the ex- 
 penditure of a watering-place. He was almost 
 ashamed at being seen alone, as it were, in Lon- 
 don when all the fashionable world had left it : 
 but necessity left him not a choice — there was no 
 help for it— and at the hotel he had hinted, as if 
 in tt casual way, in the presence of the waiters, 
 that pressing business connected with a legacy 
 just left him, compelled him, to his disgust and 
 annoyance, to remain for the present in the 
 capital. 
 
 The tale of the legacy was however a little fie- 
 tion, which served a double purpose— in the first 
 place accounting for his unfashionable presence in 
 London when the season was over ; and in the 
 second place enabling the young gentleman to add 
 the cost of his dinner to the already somewhat 
 lengthy bill standing against him at the establish- 
 ment. The hotel-keeper and the waiters however 
 had full confidence in him ; for during the past 
 t«o or three years he had expended considerable 
 
 suras at the house ; and acc(<rdii 
 appearance he was still in the 
 
 But how deceptive are such appearances: A 
 man may continue to dress well, display a watch- 
 chain festooning over his waistcoat, smoke his 
 cigars, wear lemon-coloured kid gloves, and drop 
 in with half-a-dozen "young gentlemen about 
 town " to dine off turtle and venison at an hotel, 
 without in reality having any of his once good 
 fortune left. And such was precisely the case 
 with Morton Evelyn — the young gentleman of 
 whom we are speaking. 
 
 Nut that he was utterly penniless : for in his 
 pocket-book he possessed bank-notes to the ex- 
 tent of about fifty or sixty pounds -tbC' remnant 
 of the last fire hundred which he hKrI sold out of 
 the Eank of England. Ee could tiius have paid 
 for his dinner if he thought fit : but it would oava 
 seemed odd to settle for a single repast when he 
 owed for twenty or thirty ; and moreover it. was 
 against his system to pay where ho might obtain 
 
 He lounged along the street, wondering parti- 
 ally what he should do with himself to while away 
 two or three hours until it was time to return 
 home to his lodgings — and wondering partially 
 what he should do for the means of existence at 
 all, when the contents of his pocket-book were ex- 
 hausted. He strolled into Regent Street : and iif 
 there were fewer fashionaijie loungers in that fa- 
 vourite evening resort, there were quite as many 
 unfortunate females as usual. Evelyn scarcely 
 glanced at the flaunting creatures, with their 
 painted cheeks, and their hollow eyes that cast 
 forth enticing lookr. : he was too much accustomed 
 to the scene to find any novelty in it. Presently 
 however he found his attention gradually settling 
 upon a young girl, who, though plying the trade 
 of infamy, yet seemed to be new at it: for there 
 was no wanton hardihood in her looks— no paint 
 upon her cheeks : she had not lost all the first 
 freshness of her youthful beauty : there was neat- 
 ness and no tawdriness in her attire ; and she ap- 
 peared even to shrink from public notice rather 
 than to court it. Morton Evelyn lingered to 
 watch her for a little while ; and as the blaze from 
 a shop window streamed full upon her counte- 
 nance, he saw that there was a shadow of despair 
 upon it. Though not much given to mural rellec- 
 tions, it struck him that there- was the element of 
 sincere penitence in that young soul, if a philan- 
 thropic hand were stretched forth to drag her up 
 from the abysm of degradation and infamy into 
 which she had sunk down. He looked at her 
 again : he contemplated her more attentively : her 
 countenance, naturally of an exceeding beauty, ap- 
 peared to show that the heart-break had begun ; — 
 and Morton, touched by the spectacle, hurried on- 
 ward to escape from it. 
 
 But the despairing, anguished face of that un- 
 fortunate girl, haunted him as he continued bin 
 way ; and he thought to himself, " Well, after all, 
 I shall nut be much the poorer if X give her a 
 trifle." 
 
 Ho retraced his steps : ho could not immediately 
 discern her amidst the gay flaunting tribe that 
 thronged the street ; and a pang like that of a 
 remorse struck to his heart for not having imme- 
 diately relieved her. But all of a sudden 1j»
 
 iGSES: OK, BRACIY AXD 
 
 csught a glimpse of her round the corner of a 
 narrow diverging street : she had evidently re- 
 tired thither into the comparative obscurity, to 
 drag her load of grief away from the more bril- 
 liantly lighted thoroughfare in which it seemed 
 to be BO out of place and where it attracted 
 60 little sympathy. She was leaning agnii 
 doorway, as if to support herself: and Morton 
 Evelyn beheld her raise her hand and press it l< 
 her brow, as if to sooth that dull aching which de 
 epair had infused into her very blood, and which 
 she was not yet sufficiently profligate to dispel by 
 means of the excitement of strong drink. 
 
 " My poor girl, you are ill," said Morton Evel 
 accosting her : for he did not like to say, " You 
 ire unhappy :"— he meant to relieve her, but he 
 did not want to elicit a tale of sorrow which might 
 be true or might be false. 
 
 " 111 ?" echoed the girl, recovering herself with 
 
 a sudden start. " Oh no, sir ! I am not ill. I " 
 
 and then she burst into tears. 
 
 " Come, come," said Morton, " do not give way 
 
 to grief! "We shall be noticed and that will 
 
 be devilish inconvenient. People will take me for 
 s fool or a milksop." 
 
 But even as that dissipated young man of plea- 
 sure thus spoke, he felt that his eyes were growing 
 dim with a moisture of which he was half 
 ashamed ; and he hastily drew forth his purse. In 
 one end were two or three shillings in silver : in 
 the other was a five pound note. He did not like 
 to offer the girl the silver; and he could not afford 
 to part with the bank-note. For an instant he 
 thought of entering a shop to ask for change : but 
 his pride was conflicting with his better feelings; 
 j and he had a horrible dread of being noticed and 
 taken for a spooney who was being cajoled by a 
 ' syren trickster. He hesitated — and again looked 
 in the girl's countenance. She was now weeping 
 softly : the sympathy which she had elicited had 
 evidently proved a balm to her poor wonnded heart 
 "How came you reduced to this?" suddenly 
 asked Morton Evelyn, forgetting his previous in- 
 tention not to tarry to elicit a tale. 
 
 The girl's narrative was brief. Her name was 
 Lncy Maitland : she had been seduced from a 
 comfortable home in the country, under a promise 
 of marriage — she was brought up to London, 
 where she was abandoned Ov her seducer • she had 
 become destitute— and the landlady of her lodg- 
 ings had bidden her go earn money in the streets, 
 or else retnm not thither again. ' The narrative 
 ■was told with a mingled pathos and artlessness, as 
 well as with so profound a moumfulness, that 
 Morton Evelyn felt convinced it was true, not- 
 withstanding his general incredulity in such mat- 
 ters. He hesitated no longer: he placed the five- 
 pound note in her hand, and was hurrying away, 
 ashamed lest be should be seen in the performance 
 of so good an action. 
 
 But he had not sped many paces, when a gentle 
 hand was laid upon his arm ; and the low musical 
 voice of the girl was breathing in his ear. 
 
 "Pardon me for detaining you, sir," she said 
 ■with the deepest emotion : " but. Oh ! you know 
 not what you have done ! Yoa have saved me — 
 I feel convinced you have saved me !" — and now 
 her accents were full of a grateful exultation. " I 
 beseech you to tell me your name, that I may re- 
 t in my prayers I" 
 
 Morton Evelyn, being but little of a religiou« 
 turn of mind, was on the point of sending forth i 
 from his lips the light laugh of scorn,— when, as 
 he flung his glance upon the girl's countenance, 
 he beheld something so unmistakably sincere in 
 its expression, so holy even in its fervid gratitude, 
 that the laugh was hushed upon bis lips; and with 
 a feeling of piety sueb as he had never experienced 
 before, he said, " My poor girl, if it please you to 
 know my name for such a kind purpose, it is 
 Morton Evelyn." 
 
 " I shall never forget it I" were the touchingly 
 emphatic words which Lucy Maitland spoke in 
 response ; and there was likewise something 
 solemnly sincere iu her accents and her looks. 
 
 The next instant she glided away— not back into 
 the brilliantly lighted street, but along the ob- 
 scurer one, as if glad to escape from the former 
 thoroughfare where women made a market of their 
 charms. 
 
 " I wonder whether it was all true f" said 
 Morton Evelyn to himself, as he returned into the 
 Quadrant : but though he thus mused inwardly, 
 there was the conviction in his heart that the tale 
 teas true ; and to his credit we must add that he 
 did not regret the noble bounty which indeed he 
 could so ill afford. 
 
 The scene had left upon his mind a certain im- 
 pression — almost a dispiriting one— which he was 
 anxious to shake off. Therefore again with re- 
 newed force recurred the question — What was he 
 to do to wLile away the time? Almost unwit- 
 tingly his etepi were bent towards a closed door 
 over which a brilliant lamp was burning ; and 
 then he suddenly stopped short, saying to himself 
 th a species of shudder, "No — not here !" 
 It was a gambling -house at the door of which 
 he had for an instant halted, and whence he now 
 turned away. In that den Morton Evelyn had 
 lost a considerable portion of the fortune which he 
 had inherited on coming of age two years back^ 
 and which, as the reader has seen, was now re- 
 duced to all that he had about him. He walked 
 , struggling against his inclinations to seek the 
 gaming-table. His moral courage was every mo- 
 ment giving way, until at length he found himself 
 musing iu this strain : — 
 
 I have about fifty or sixty pounds left ; and it 
 must all go shortly. Then what is to become of 
 me ? May I not as well endeavour to convert it 
 five or six hundred ? They say that luck 
 changes when fortune is at the lowest ebb. I can- 
 not always be a loser ; and even if I did lose 
 rything to-night, it would only be accelerating 
 the position in which I must inevitably be placed 
 le course of a few weeks ; whereas, on the 
 other hand, it is quite possible I may come out of 
 the gambling-house with enough to carry me on 
 r a twelvemonth in the comparatively quiet way 
 which I am now living." 
 
 The reader has seen that with all his eztrava- 
 nee, his dissipation, his lax principles, and his 
 false pride, Morton Evelyn was not utterly defi- 
 ■nt in good feelings : but he wanted the stamina 
 the moral courage — which would have made 
 m a better man and a more U8?ful member of 
 society. In the present instance his want of re- 
 solution prevailed ; and he entered the gambling- 
 house. 
 
 la the room to which he ascended, there wai
 
 ACXLS: OR, BEAUTY 
 
 PLKABCBB. 
 
 the usual scene — a table covered with green baize, 
 the croupiers sitting with their rakes, one of them 
 hftving before him a tinboi containing the notes 
 and gold whicli constituted *' the bank." Eight or 
 ten persons were seated at play — most of them 
 being dissipated and decayed members of the 
 fashionable world, who, like Morton Evelyn, bad 
 not the means of goin^;; out of town, and were 
 equally ready with excuses to account for their un- 
 faahioaable presence in London. With most of 
 them Mr. Evelyn was acquainted ; and after some 
 little conversation, be sat down to play. 
 
 For a while fortune seemed in Evelyn's favour ; 
 and the content* of his pocket.book were doubled. 
 He became exhilarated : he felt convinced that at 
 last his luck had turned; and be played mora 
 boldly. His hope was however disappointed : the 
 tide set in against him : be drank wine— be grew 
 desperate— he would not believe that this night 
 was to witness the contirmation of his ruin — until 
 his last bank-note was swept away by the crou- 
 piers rake. 
 
 Then Morton Evelyn became almost wild with 
 despair; and the pride which had made him so 
 much dread lest bis generous sympathy for a 
 fellow-creature's misfortunes should bo observed, 
 did not prevent him from giving way to loudly 
 uttered maledictions upon his own folly. But 
 there was no sympathy for him iu that den where 
 blacklegs and sharpers and fallen gentlemen con- 
 gregated. The game continued : Morton Evelyn 
 remained almost unnoticed ; and throwing himself 
 upon a chair, he looked the picture of ruin itself. 
 His dark hair was all tossing in disorder above the 
 countenance from which the flush of wine bad 
 passed away, leaving it deadly pale : his features 
 were rigid — his brows were corrugated— and one 
 clenched fist rested upon the table, while the other 
 hand supported his h'^ad. Thus, for some minutee 
 he remained motionless as a statue — but with a 
 sinister light in his eyes, as if the brain in its de- 
 spair were revolving projects of suicide. 
 
 Suddenly Morton Evelyn started up — dashed his 
 hat upon his head— rudely repulsed a couple of 
 " kind friends" who, having profited by his lusses, 
 begged him to remain to supper— and rushed forth 
 from the gambling-house. There was a hearty 
 laugh on the part of those whom he left behind : 
 but he heard it not— ot at least did not heed it. 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 IHB CHUKCH-TADLT. 
 
 MOBTOH Etelth did not live at the hotel where 
 he had dined. For purposes of economy, and that 
 he might he the better able to maintain a good 
 appearance out of doors, he had for some months 
 past occupied a cheap lodging in one of those 
 pleasant little villa-residences which even at the 
 date whereof we are writing were springing up in 
 every suburb of the metropolis. Thitherward he 
 now bent bis way— on foot— for the expense of a 
 hired vehicle would have denuded him of his last 
 shilling. 
 
 It was a considerable distance from the scene of 
 bis fatal losses that Morton Evelyn was thus con- 
 
 strained to walk ; for the villa where ho dwelt whi 
 quite on the outskirts, and might almost be said 
 to stand in the open country. "With feverish brain . 
 and with a sad tightness at the heart, the ruined 
 gamester proceeded on his way. He strode -with 
 a rapidity which was akin to the excitement of 
 bis feelings : be took no note of any objects which 
 he passed : it was rather by instinct than by actual 
 observation that he pursued the proper rjute. 
 
 At length he was in the outskirt: the air 
 seemed purer and fresher : it fanned bis cheek — it 
 cooled his brain. He relaxed his pace: his 
 thoughts grew more collected : he was becoming 
 accustomed to the conviction that ho was an 
 utterly ruined man. Now be looked about him to 
 see exactly where he was; and at the same instant 
 a neighbouring church-clock began proclaiming 
 the hour of midnight. There was a short cut 
 through the churchyard ; and Morton proceeded 
 to take it;— for though it was one of those isolated 
 and lonely churches whicli might have been seen 
 at the time in certain suburbs of the metropolis, 
 before the enterprise of builders and the require- 
 ments of a growing population hemmed them in 
 with houses, — Evelyn had no tinge of superstitious 
 fear in bis character. 
 
 It was rather a dark night— but yet not oo com- 
 pletely obscure as to prevent some of the most 
 recently raised tombstones from gleaming white 
 and ghastly above the resting-places of the dead. 
 The last sounds of the clock had died vibratingly 
 away into the silence of the place and the hour; 
 and the very atmosphere itself seemed to sleep 
 more heavily over the graves of the departed, than 
 
 Morton was pursuing his way, when it suddenly 
 struck hioi that he beheld a light flashing for an 
 instant through a little window that was on a 
 level with the ground, and which belonged to the 
 vaults beneath the church. The light however 
 had instantaneously disappeared ; and Evelyn 
 thought that it must have been mere fancy on his 
 part. He was again walking onward along the 
 narrow path which intersected the church-yard, 
 when he beheld the light again, and again did it 
 as quickly disappear. Thoughts of resurrection- 
 men swept through his brain ; and he was on the 
 point of shouting out to raise an alarm— for there 
 were three or four hoMses within earshot— when it 
 struck him that the oflicials of the church might 
 be possibly engaged in preparing a vault for the 
 reception of some member of the family to which 
 it belonged. Still he had a strange feeling of 
 curiosity about him on the point : he had no 
 superstitious terror; and perhaps, likewise, he was 
 in that mood when a person clutches at any adven- 
 ture that may divert the thoughts from a painful 
 topic. Be all this as it may, — certain it is that 
 Morton Evelyn crept stealthily towards the little 
 window, and listened. There was no glass to that 
 window — merely a range of iron bars. He could 
 hear voices speaking in a half-subdued tone; and 
 he distinctly caught these words, "Now, sexton, 
 what have we here ? This plate upon the oolfiu- 
 lid " 
 
 'Prav 
 
 oore cautious, sir, how you throw the 
 ) lantern," replied another voice, " or 
 
 light I 
 
 it may be seen outside." 
 
 " Yes, yes— I'll take care !" responded the first 
 gpeaker. "After all, there is no barm in what wt
 
 Aami: OK, BliPTJ iKD 
 
 " I'm not quite so sure thftt there's no harm in 
 't, Mr. Waldron," interrupted the eeiton : and he 
 went on speaking— but Morton Eveljn could no 
 longer catch the words that he uttered, 
 
 WaldroQ ! — that name wao familiar to his ears : 
 or at least he had some slight acquaintance with 
 a person who bore it. And that it was the same 
 individual, too, of whom he was thinking, he felt 
 convinci'd from the tones of his voice, Mr. Wal- 
 dron was a lawyer; and Eveljn fancied, from cer- 
 tain circumstances, that he could possibly conjec- 
 ture the motive of his being in a church-vault at 
 such an hour and evidently in a stealthy man- 
 Evelyn at once passed on to the nearest door of 
 the church ; and he found that it was closed, but 
 unlocked. He unhesitatingly entered, and began 
 groping his way towards the door communicating 
 with the vaults, which he happened to know was 
 situated oi> the ground floor of the tower, for he 
 had once out of curiosity looked into that church. 
 At the very instant he reached the threshold, he 
 heard footsteps ascending; and he therefore 'waited 
 until Mr. Waldron and the sexton emerged from 
 bilow. The latter now carried the lantern, which 
 only shed a thin streak of light— for to this ex- 
 tent was it darkened. 
 
 " Don't be aUrmed, Mr. Waldron," said the in- 
 truder. " It is I— Morton Evelyn." 
 
 "Evelyn?" ejaculated the sexton in a voice of 
 terror. " Why, that's the very vault " 
 
 " Hush !" said Mr. Waldron : and stepping 
 forth from within the low arched door, he asked, 
 "Why, good heavens, Mr, Evelyn! what brings 
 you hither f" 
 
 " A mere accident," replied Morton, " I live 
 in this neighbourhood — I saw a light flashing 
 through the vault-window — and so, inspired by 
 curiosity " 
 
 "Well, well," interjected Mr. Waldron, who 
 was evidently rendered somewhat nervous by the 
 incident : " there is no harm done. Of course 
 you will say nothing about it ? Tuu may guess 
 that I am continuing my researches " 
 
 "Yes— I comprehend ! Indeed, I thought as 
 much !" replied Morton. " But the sexton said 
 anmethiog— m a word, Mr. Waldron, do you 
 think — have you any reason to suppose that these 
 researches of your's may possibly, after all, regard 
 me?— for never was there a man who stood more 
 in need of some hopeful promise than I do at this 
 instant !" 
 
 Morton had been hurried along by the excite- 
 ment of hie feelings,- and also by certain recollec- 
 tions of the circumstances which had first made 
 him acquainted with Joshua Waldron, the lawyer, 
 — thus to give excited utterance to those thoughts 
 wherein hopes and fears were blended. 
 
 " H;ah.'— not another word now, Mr. Evelyn !" 
 •aid Waldron. "But call upon me tomorrow as 
 early as you like— say ten o'clock " 
 
 " I will ! I will !" responded the ruined game- 
 ster, with the anxious suspense of a partial hope. 
 " But tell u:e," he added in a whisper, — "just one 
 word- only one word .'—dare I expect " 
 
 " I really can say nothing now," interrupted 
 Waldron. " I have been taking notes of the 
 names upon certain cofBn-lids down below ; and I 
 
 cannot judge of their importance until I co^opara 
 them with other dates and particulars which 1 
 have at home. But come to me to-morrow— and 
 we will talk the matter over," 
 
 Though there were many reasons why Morton 
 Evelyn should not entertain the wild hope which 
 had sprung up in his mind, — yet in proportion to 
 the desperation of one's circumstances, does hope 
 itself become extravagant. This is human nature; 
 and Morton Evelyn was no exception to the rule. 
 It was the drowning man suddenly clutching at 
 a straw. In his enthusiasm Evelyn grasped the 
 lean hand of the lawyer,— who was a thin, elderly, 
 sharp-featured little man : and he then rushed 
 out of the church. 
 
 It was in a species of intoxication that Evelyn 
 reeled rather than walked home to his humble 
 lodging. He would not listen to the suggestiona 
 of his own reason: he would not suffer himself to 
 look upon the dark and dubious side of the picture: 
 the bright one completely dazzled his imagination. 
 From utter obscurity, his world's pathway seemed 
 to be suddenly lifted ioto the blaze of a glorious 
 light. In this frame of mind was it that he 
 reached the little villa-residence ; and when 8eek« 
 ing his couch, he lay ^ake, revelling in a thou- 
 sand wild fancies — abandoning himself to hopaa 
 and visions of the most fantastic character. At 
 length slumber stole upon his eyes ; and the same 
 subjects grew all the more wild and fantastic in 
 the real dreams of sleep. 
 
 When be awoke in the morning, his thoughts 
 were somewhat more sobered down ; and he re- 
 flected thai, after all, he had given way with too 
 much enthusiastic credulity to the dehcious whis- 
 perings of hope, and that he ought to have 
 weighed the thousand chances existing against the 
 realization of any such brilliant visions. Still, lei 
 the reader understand, Mr. Evelyn was far from 
 being depressed, and that he cherished a vague 
 idea that the encounter with the lawyer would not 
 turn out altogether to his disadvantage. Thus 
 meditating, ho dressed himself— partook of his 
 breakfast — and having finished by nine o'clock, 
 had a full hour b fore him to walk the distance to 
 Mr. Waldron's office. 
 
 This ofhce was situated in Lincoln's Inn 
 Fields : but Mr. Waldion's private house was in 
 Eussel! Square. Wc have already said that the 
 lawyer was an elderly, thin, sharp-featured man: 
 we may now add that he had a cadaverous coun- 
 tenance, but piercing restless eyes that seemed 
 capable of looking one through and through. He 
 was a widower, and had two children — both 
 grown, up daughters, of whom we shall presently 
 have to speak. His cha:nber3 indicated the attor- 
 ney in good praclioc. Tlioy were on the ground- 
 fl .or of one of those large old-fashioned houses 
 in Lincoln's Inn Fields which at no very far-back 
 date were the m.'insions of the British aristo- 
 cracy. Tbo house vphere the name of Joshua 
 Waldron appeared upon the panel just within the 
 doorway, contained large rooms with enormous 
 mantels and heavy cornices— ami a wide staircase, 
 with gigantic balustrades on which the hand could 
 cmly rest, but couM not possibly grasp. Mr. 
 Waldron'a front office had a double desk placed 
 at the windows, — what may be termed the gable 
 of the desk being surmounted by a dingy brass 
 framework, sustaining huge ledgers a'-^i largfl
 
 books, which were handy there for the clerks who 
 •at on either side. Of these underlings there 
 were three— a chief clerk, a copying clerk, and an ' 
 out-door clerk. 
 
 The 6rat was an elderly man, rejoicing in the 
 name of Timperley, and who in personal appear- 
 ance was not very much unlike his master— 
 except that instead of having merely a sharp, 
 •hrewd, and business-like expression of counte- ; 
 nance, he had a sinister one. It was from be- j 
 neath his shaggy overhanging brows that he 
 looked at any one with whom he was conversing : I 
 but even this look was askance— and it was always [ 
 furtively withdrawn if such person happened to 
 gaze ifttenlly upon Mr. Tipjperley himself. It 
 was whispered that he had once been an attorney 
 in good practice— but that either having been 
 struck off the rolls for some misdeed, or through 
 having dwindled down into a poverty that pre- 
 vented him from taking out a certificate, he was 
 compelled to accept the post of clerk in the office 
 of Mr. Waldron. 
 
 The out-door clerk was the best-dressed of the 
 three ; and had a certain dashing air of gentility 
 about him ; so that what with his gold chain, his 
 well-polished boots, and the new coat which, when 
 in-doors, he kept carefully folded up in his desk, he 
 was a very respectable representative of the esta- 
 blishment of Joshua Waldron when attending in 
 the Nisi Prius Courts, or occasionally when lunch- 
 ing with a bankrupt whom he was taking through 
 the Court in Basinghall Street. As for the copying 
 clerk, he was a middle-at;;ed man in a suit of seedy 
 black, and a dingy white neckcloth with limp 
 ends; so that he might be mistaken for a decayed 
 methodist parson. He had -a very large family; 
 and as he was very often drunk, his wile— a foor 
 sickly woman, in a scanty shawl, and generally with 
 & child in her arms — might of a Saturday evening 
 be seen hanging about in the neighbourhood of 
 the office, to intercept her husband and his salary, 
 lest he should slip off to the Brown Boar and 
 expend three parts of his earnings. 
 
 Such were the components of Mr. Waldron's 
 front office : but his own private room was fitted 
 up in a style where the handsome and the business- 
 like might seem to blend. Thus the substantial 
 chairs of Kussia leather were encumbered with 
 papers : numerous documents, apparently having 
 fallen by accident from the writing-table, were 
 strown upon the rich carpet : the glass doors of the 
 book-case, containing a splendid law-library, were 
 for the most part swinging negligently open; and 
 there was such a pile of correspondence in front of 
 the attorney himself, that an innocent-minded 
 visitor would be lost in wonderment how he could 
 ever find time to get through it. 
 
 Punctually at five minutes to ten Mr. Waldron 
 arrived at his office ■ and punctually at ten o'clock 
 Morton Evelyn made his appearance. To his in- 
 quiry in the clerks' room whether Mr. Waldron 
 were within, he received an affirmative reply from 
 Mr. Timperley, who ushered him into the inner 
 office. Mr. Waldron now assumed a more reserved 
 •nd business-like air than he had worn on the pre- 
 vious night when caught in the act of issuing from 
 the vaults of the suburban church; and without 
 proffering his band, be made a motion for his 
 riaitor to be seated. 
 
 "Let me see, Mi. KT'lynf" be said, lying back 
 
 T AMD PLiiiaDEB. 7 
 
 in his own chair, with hit pen behind his right 
 ear and his thumbs caught in the arm-holes of bis 
 waistcoat: "I think tljat when von and I met 
 before— I do not allude to last night, you 
 know " 
 
 " I will explain exactly how "it was, sir," inter- 
 rupted Morton, but with a certain air of deference 
 and respect towards one who he believed might 
 possibly become the arbiter of his destinies. " It 
 was about a year ago — I received a letter from you 
 requesting mo to rail, as you fancied that you had 
 a clue to some business which would be to my 
 advantage. I came accordingly. You asked me 
 who my father was, and who my grandfather. I 
 told you. Tou then questioned me concerning the 
 relatives or progenitors of my grandfather : but I 
 was unable to give you any information on those 
 points." 
 
 " And why were you thus unable ?" asked Mr. 
 Waldron. 
 
 " I explained the reasons at the time, sir," re- 
 sponded Evelyn. "My father was a Liverpool 
 merchant; and in that town he died when I waii 
 only twelve years of age. My mother had been 
 dead since my childhood : my paternal grandfather 
 died before I was born. Thus you see, sir, that I 
 was left an orphan at too early an age to hai e 
 heard much about the family to which I belong? d 
 — or at least to have remembered whatsoever I 
 might have heard. At my father's death I vias 
 sent to school in the neighbourhood of London; 
 and thence to college till I came of age. Om of 
 my guardians died before I had attained Jiy 
 majority — the other shortly afterwards. I do not 
 know of a single relative that I possess in the 
 whole world ; and thus you see, sir, the informa- 
 tion I was enabled to give you in respect to my 
 family when you sent for me a twelvemonth ago, 
 was of a sufficiently meigre description." 
 
 " Have you any armorial bearings accomfanied 
 by a pedigree ?" inquired Mr. Waldron. 
 
 " To speak the truth,** responded ITortOQ 
 Evelyn, " I have not. My family was sirjply a 
 mercantile one " 
 
 " And what did I say to you at the tia e you 
 called upon me a twelvemonth back p" dec landed 
 Mr . Waldron, who listened with an insc tutable 
 expression of countenance to all that his visitor 
 was telling him. 
 
 "You gave me to understand, sir," replied 
 Morton Evelyn, who was now upon the tenter- 
 hooks of suspense, " that you had a clue to a con- 
 eiderablo fortune— and even to something besides 
 — but which you did not specify -" 
 
 " Go on," said Mr. Waldron curtly. 
 
 "You proceeded tO intimate," continued Mor- 
 ton, " that all these advantages rightfully belonged 
 to some family bearing the name of Evelyn— that 
 you had expended thousands and wasted whole 
 years in the search after the lawful heir " 
 
 " But what did I say to you in respect to your 
 own chances?" demanded Mr. Waldron. "The 
 fact is, I have seen so many Evelyns upon the 
 subject, that unless you assist me with explana- 
 tions of what occurred in your own particular 
 case, I shall be jumbling and confounding matters 
 — though my head is generally pretty clear on 
 
 " You bade me, sir, ascertain who my grand- 
 father's father was," responded Morton. "I went
 
 i.eilBB: 
 
 BEAUIT ISD PLEAtrSB. 
 
 lo Liverpool and made inquiries: but it appeared 
 that he had nnt settled there until he was thirty 
 years of age — and no one knew anything of his 
 antccedente. Then I advertised in the news- 
 papers, offering a reward for the baptismal certifi- 
 cate of Andrew Evelyn " 
 
 "That was your grandfather ?" interjected Mr. 
 Waldron inquiringly. 
 
 " Yes — my grandfather/* answered Morton i 
 '' because, you know, if I bad been fortunate 
 enough to find that coreiScatc, it would have in- 
 formed me of the names of his parenls." 
 
 "And the result of your advertisements?" asked 
 :he lawyer. 
 
 ." They were fruitless," rejoined Evelyn. " I 
 came and reported all these things to you, sir ; 
 and you then told me that you were sorry I had 
 taicen so much trouble and gone to such an expense 
 — for that, after all, you did not think I could 
 possibly belong to the family to which you had 
 alluded." 
 
 " And therefore," aaid Mr. Waldron, " you 
 thought no more of, the matter— you took no 
 further steps— and you let it slip out of your 
 thouEihts?" 
 
 " That is the exact truth, sir," responded Mor- 
 ton. " I totally lost sight of the subject until last 
 night,— when passing through the church.yard, I 
 heard you speaking in the vault. Then it instan- 
 taneously struck me that you must be prosecuting 
 your researches " 
 
 " True !" said Mr. Waldron, now suffering him- 
 self to smile : " for you knew very well that I 
 could not be a resurrection-man. And what then?" 
 
 " When the sexton mentioned the name of Eve- 
 lyn in connexion with that vault," answered Mor- 
 ton, •' I confess that a wild hope sprang up within 
 
 " An i why should you have entertained such a 
 hope ?" asked the lawyer. " Have you the slightest 
 reason I o suppose that any of your ancestors were 
 interred in London ?" 
 
 "Ko particular reason, sir. Only," added Mor- 
 ton, with a smile, " I must have had ancestors, and 
 they must have been buried somewhere. And 
 then, too, I will admit that last night " 
 
 " 1 have not forgotten the words you addressed 
 to me," interrupted Mr. Waldron. " You were in 
 such a condition that no man living ever stood 
 more in Leed of a hopeful promise than you did 
 last night. Such was your statement. Explain 
 it." 
 
 " It may be all summed up in a few words, sir," 
 answered Morton : and then, after a moment's 
 pause, he added, with a partly mournful, partly 
 L'Xcited emphasis, " I am penniless !" 
 
 " Humph !" said Mr. Waldron : and his thumbs, 
 quitting his waistcoat armholes, his hands dived 
 down into his breeches pockets, as if it were the 
 instinctive movement of one who could thank 
 jod that he was not penniless. " In a word, Mr. 
 Evelyn, you have run through all your fortune — 
 Tou have no profession nor trade — the friends 
 whom you have hitherto found, are unable or un- 
 wilUng to assist you — and, in plain terms, you 
 know not exactly what to do. Have I guessed 
 rightly r 
 
 "You have, sir — God knows that you have!" 
 i«xclained Morton. " I have been exceedingly 
 fcolish — Tery, very silly " 
 
 " The past cannot be recalled— but it may be 
 atoned for," interjected Mr. Waldron. "From 
 those cofHn-lids last night I gained some little in- 
 formation — but still comparatively nothing to 
 speak of. Nevertheless, I think that this infor- 
 mation may have afforded me a clue, which must 
 be followed up. Now mind, Mr. Evelyn— I do not 
 want to excite any wild hopes compose your- 
 self give not way to excitement but I 
 
 think it is possible — nay, even probable, that you 
 may be the lawful heir to this great wealth— and 
 — and — to something more But no matter !" 
 
 " Oh, my dear sir !" exclaimed Morton, all his 
 hope reviving: " what joyous tidings " 
 
 " There now ! you are exciting yourself ! Be 
 calm, sir I am going to summon my head clerk. 
 I desire that you will be collected before him :" — 
 and Mr. Waldron spoke almost sternly ; but yet 
 it was with' a sort of friendly or even paternal 
 sternness, as if with the best possible intentions 
 he sought to curb the wild liightB of the young 
 man's imagination. 
 
 " I will be calm, sir !" said Morton, exercising 
 a strong effort over his own feelings. 
 
 Mr. Waldron now summoned his bead clerk, 
 who came bowing obsequiously into the private 
 
 " Timperley," said Mr. Waldron, " in that affair 
 of the Evelyn family, you know — I think that this 
 gentleman here has a very good chance. — Please 
 be quiet, sir !" he added aside to Morton, who was 
 on the point of bounding from his seat at those 
 hopeful words. 
 
 " Indeed, sir," answered Timperley, with the air 
 of a man who was not at all astonished at what be 
 heard, but who awaited further explanations. 
 
 "Yes," continued Mr. Waldron ; " I think that 
 Mr. Morton Evelyn has a very fair chance. He 
 has done me the honour of appointing me his soli- 
 citor in the business; and you will draw up an 
 agreement, Timperley, according to the terms of 
 which Mr. Evelyn guarantees to me twenty per 
 cent, on all moneys that I may succeed in recover- 
 ing for him. Is it not so, Mr. Evelyn ?" 
 
 Though Morton had really assented to nothing 
 of the sort, yet he was only too glad to proclaim a 
 prompt afKrmative; and Timperley again bowed 
 obsequiously. 
 
 " Mr. Evelyn has given me the requisite in- 
 struclions how to proceed," continued Waldron ; 
 " and in the present situation of affairs I cannot 
 have the slightest objection to advance Mr. 
 Evelyn such sums as he may require for his im- 
 mediate use. Draw a bill of exchange, Timperley, 
 and fill up a warrant-of-attorney, for five hundred 
 pounds. — Pray be seated, my dear sir 1" blandly 
 added the lawyer, turning towards Morton, who 
 was again on the point of springing from hii 
 seat. 
 
 Timperley bowed and withdrew ; and Waldron 
 said, "Pray, Mr. Evelyn, do not give way to this 
 e::citement. I have not told you that you are the j 
 rightful heir— I am not sure that you are— but I 
 think that your chance is just sufficiently good to | 
 warrant me in running some risks. I am going | 
 to fill you up a cheque for five hundred pounds. I 
 hope you will live with siiitaWe economy— but still j 
 in a manner becoming your station ; and if you i 
 will dine with me at five o'ciock this evenini;, I 
 shall be happy to see you. You will find nobody at
 
 my lioase In Russell Square exoept my yoiuiger 
 daughter and myself ; — aud over a glass of claret 
 in the evening you and I can talk more upon these 
 matters. By the by, we will try the advertise- 
 ments again. While I fill up the cheque, do you 
 draw up the advertisement, offering fifty guineas 
 reward to the person who shall supply the bap- 
 tismal certificate of the deceased Andiew Evelyn, 
 merchant of Liverpool ; and put in the years about | 
 which, according to your idea, he must have been | 
 bom. Wind it up by desiring that the informa- j 
 tion may be addressed either to yourself or to your } 
 solicitor— naming me." 
 
 Morton was only too glad to fulfiUinstnictions I 
 which seemed so fraught with business-like pro- j 
 mise : and in drawing up the advertisement, he 
 did not give his address at his own lodgings, but | 
 at the hotel where he was accustomed to dine. 
 Tl« cheque was written: ilr. Timperley retui'ued 
 No. 2.— AoxEi 
 
 into the private room, with the bill of exchan.TO, 
 
 the 
 
 1 the 
 
 which last-mei.ii ■'! • -a-is to the effect of 
 
 makingoverto 'i ' i Iron twenty per 
 
 cent on all suiiK > , I :. :.» agenoyshould 
 
 be recovered fuf .M^ki-j^ L, _.y;i. 
 
 "As for this bill and waaaut-of-attomey," said 
 Mr. Waldrou, with a careless smile, '■ 1 shall 
 never think of a.sking you for the five hundred 
 pounds or any other moneys that I may advance, 
 unless I succeed in carrying out the business with 
 which you have been kind enough to entrust me. 
 Not another word, my dear sir:— but be so kind 
 as to sign those documents; for my time is 
 valuable:"— and Mr. Waldron lugged up a hugs 
 gold watch from the depths of his fob. 
 
 Morton hastened with enthusiastic alacrity to 
 sign the different documents. Mr Timperley ob- 
 sequiously showing him where he waste affix h'S
 
 10 
 
 AGSIS: OE, BEAUIT ASD PLHAsrEE. 
 
 !!?Eature. The old clerk then retired ; and llr. 
 Waldrcn said, "Here is your cheque, Mr. Evelyn. 
 Do not be too extravagant— but on the other 
 hand do not hesitate to make me your banker for 
 the supply of your moderate wants. Ah ! by the 
 bve, as you have less to do than I have, you may 
 as well take this advertisement of yours to the 
 Time* newspaper office; and pay for half-a-dozen 
 
 " My dear sir," said the overjoyed Morton, " I 
 have not words suiEeient " 
 
 " Enoagb, Mr. Evelyn !" interrupted Waldron. 
 " At five o'clock punctually I shall expect you in 
 Eussell Square." 
 
 The attorney shook Morion by the hand ; and 
 the latter issued from the office with a brain so 
 exultant that he felt as if he were intoxicated, and 
 the whole of Lincoln's Inn Fields seemed to be 
 turning round. A cab was passing : he jumped 
 into it, and drove straight to the banker's. There 
 he procured cash for his cheque ; and thence he 
 proceeded to the newspaper office, where he paid 
 for the insertion of the advertisement. Confident 
 that he should inherhit an immense fortune— and 
 believing that Waldron knew more respecting the 
 validity of his claims than he had in the first in- 
 st.ince chosen to admit— Morton lost no time in 
 .•emoving from his lodgings at the suburban villa- 
 residence to a handsome suite of apartments 
 which he hired in a fashionable quarter of the 
 West End. He then dressed for dinner,— all 
 these proceedings having occupied the day; and 
 1- unctually at five o'clock he knocked at the door 
 of Mr. TTaldrou's handsome house in Eussell 
 Sijuare. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 HOKOKIA WALDROX. 
 
 Btntisa his ride thither, Morton Evelyn had been 
 busy in speculating upon the entertainment he 
 should receive, the additional information be might 
 obtain from Waldron's lips in respect to the one 
 grand topic, and also what might be the appear, 
 ance of the lawyer's younger daughter. Morton 
 could not help thinking that if there were the 
 least family resemblance, Miss Waldron must be 
 a thin, hatchet-faced, vixenish-looking young lady, 
 with a lean figure. Indeed, he came to the con- 
 c'.usion that he had thus pretty accurately depicted 
 the portraiture of the lady whom he was about to 
 meet. 
 
 A footman in a handsome livery escorted Mor- 
 ton Evelyn up a well-carpeted staircase to the 
 drawing-room, — on entering which the visitor was 
 received by Mr. "Waldron, who hastened forward 
 tu welcome him with cordiality. At the same 
 time a tall, handsome, elegantly dressed young 
 lady, about twenty years of age, rose up from the 
 eofa : and the lawyer said, "Permit me, Mr. Eve- 
 lyn, to introduce you to my daughter. Miss "Wal- 
 
 Morton was for an instant smitten with asto- 
 nishment : but with the well-bred ease which he 
 possessed, he quickly recovered himself— bowed to 
 the lady— and at once glided into that light com- 
 monplace conversation which a man of the world 
 
 always has ready at his command. Miss Waldron 
 welcomed her father's gueit with a sufficient 
 degree of afTubility, though there was naturally 
 something reserved and dignified, if not absolutely 
 haughty, in her disposition and manner. In 
 respect to her personal appearance, she had li^ht 
 hair flowing in ringlets upon shoulders wh^^h the 
 low evening-toilet completely exposed, and which 
 were of dttzzling whiteness. Indeed, her com- 
 plexion was exquisitely fair; for her beauty waa 
 that of a perfect blomU. Her large blue eyes de- 
 noted strength of mind and firmness of purpose, 
 rather than feminine gentleness and soft serenity 
 of character. Her countenance was an oval, ter- 
 minating in a sensuously rounded chin: hei 
 profile was aquiline ; and the full lips of luscious 
 redness enhanced the voluptuousness of her gene> 
 ral expression. The face was however a very 
 fine one — striking and handsome. The neck 
 was faultless in its modelling and its snowy white- 
 ness : but it wanted the swan-like curvature to 
 render its carriage completely graceful. It seeoied 
 to be an alabaster column gradually spreading out 
 at its base, and expanding into the noble foun- 
 dation of a magnificent bust. Indeed hep figure 
 was somewhat on a large scale, with full and well, 
 developed contours, but yet not bordering on an 
 embonpoint too luxuriant for perfection of sym- 
 metry, elegance of motion, or lightness of step. 
 Her arms, bare to the shoulders, were robust, yet 
 sculptured to an exactness of proportion in re- 
 ference to the entire shape ; while the folds of her 
 dress defined the sweeping length of the lower 
 limbs. She had a fine set of teeth: her hands, 
 though of a plumpness corresponding with the 
 general fulness of her formation, were well- 
 shaped, — her fingers tapering even beautifully. 
 Thus, altogether. Miss Waldron was a very hand- 
 some young woman, though of a style of beauty 
 that seemed to appeal rather to the sense than the 
 ■entiment. 
 
 Morton Evelyn was, as we have seen, astonished 
 beholding so handsome a person in Mr. Wal- 
 dron's younger daughter ; and he could not pre. 
 vent his looks from expressing admiration. She 
 was lady-like in her manners, notwithstanding 
 that tincture of reserve and haughtiness to which 
 we have alluded ; and she assuredly bad no affec- 
 tation nor frivolity about her. We have already 
 hinted that her mind was somewhat masculine ; 
 d Morton soon found that she had a pretty 
 general knowledge of the routine of law-business, 
 as well as a good insight into her father's affairs. 
 At the dinner-table she enacted the part of a 
 hostess with all possible propriety,— just pressing 
 her hospitality far enough to show the guest that 
 he was welcome, without however approaching the 
 ulgar extreme of endeavouring to force him to 
 partake of this or that dish after be bad once de- 
 
 When Miss Waldron had retired, Morton 
 Evelyn expected that the lawyer would enter into 
 particulars with regard to the one grand topic 
 hich so deeply interested him: but though Wal- 
 dron speedily touched upon it, and even conversed 
 thereon at length, it waa like dealing with 
 generalities. He entered not into details— h« 
 played as it were around the topic. He intimated, 
 for example, that he had been on various 
 successful in similar affairs ; that he had i
 
 AGSE8 : OK, BEACIT ASD PLEASnEB. 
 
 anciaimed dmrlen^s for numbers of persons ; that 
 be had ferreted out moDejs which were lying in 
 different places, and after more or less time and 
 trouble had discovered their rightful owners; and 
 that when once he entered upon any such par- 
 ticular pursuit, he spared neither trouble nor 
 expense to arrive at the end. 
 
 ** "Would you believe it, Mr. Evelyn," he said : 
 " I keep a gentleman constantly engaged at the 
 British Museum in making researches for the 
 furtherance of these matters." 
 
 "I have no doubt of it," replied Morton. "But 
 ■would you permit me to ask " 
 
 " How I first came to know anything about this 
 fortune to which I trust your claim will be 
 proven ?" exclaimed Waldron. "Why, it was sin- 
 gular enough. When I myself was one day en- 
 gaged at the Museum, looking over manuscripts 
 and old books, in search of some lost links in a 
 
 particular pedigree that must have been about 
 
 twelve years ago 1 stumbled over something 
 
 that afforded me a hint by which I failed not to 
 profit, I made farther researches : the matter 
 grew clearer and clearer : then I pursued my in- 
 vestigations elsewhere— I consulted the books of 
 the Bank of England and the Commissioners of 
 the Sinking Fund — in a word, Mr. Evelyn, I have 
 been engaged for twelve years in following up this 
 very aflair which has led to our acquaintance." 
 
 "And what do you suppose, Mr. Waldron," 
 inquired Morton, " may be the probable 
 amount " 
 
 " Ah ! whatever I may receive as my own 
 ebare," interrupted the lawyer, filling his glass 
 and passing the decanter, " I can assure you I 
 shall have fully earned it : for heaven knows the 
 trouble I have taken, the time I have lost, the 
 money I have expended ! There is not iu the 
 British islands a single family bearing the name of 
 Evelyn with which I have not communicated. 
 You would be astonished at the number of Evelyns 
 there are ! Then I have spent days and days in 
 searching amongst pedigrees at the Heralds' Col- 
 lege — in perusing wills at Doctors' Commons — in 
 turning over mouldy documents in the State Paper 
 Office,— yes, and even in penetrating into vaults 
 and taking notes from coffin plates," added the 
 lawyer with a significant smile. 
 
 " Your labour has been indeed great," observed 
 Morton. " But might I ask •" 
 
 " And then too," pursued Waldron, " the parish- 
 registers that I have searched — the money I have 
 spent in advertising— the correspondence I have 
 been compelled to sustain — the myriads of inter- 
 views I have granted to visitors respecting this 
 business— it is altogether incredible 1" 
 
 " I can believe it," observed Morton. " And 
 now at length you do really believe *' 
 
 " We shall see, my dear sir— we shall see !" ex- 
 claimed the lawyer, as if anticipating the question 
 that was about to be put. " The next few months 
 
 will tell us more. I think— indeed I hope 
 
 But however you must wait patiently for a time, 
 as I have done for years 1 And now. Miss Wal- 
 Jron will be expecting us in the drawing-room." 
 
 To the drawing-room they accordingly ascended ; 
 and during another hour that Morton Evelyn re- 
 :. mined beneath that roof, not another syllable was 
 ^al 1 upoa the one grand topic. When he rose to j 
 take his leave, Jlr. Waldron assured him that he 
 
 would be always welcome at the house; and 
 Honoria— for that was Miss Waldron's Christian 
 name — shook hands with him at parting. 
 
 As be rode home to his lodgings, Morton said to 
 himself, " Yes— it is evident that Waldron knows 
 he is at last upon the right track, and that 1 am 
 the heir to this wealth ! But he is guarded and 
 reserved — and naturally so. He is a lawyer— and 
 he exercises professional caution. Besides, he is 
 really quite right in keeping his secret tolerably 
 close ; for if, after all, I should turn out not to bo 
 the heir, it would not do for him to have given me 
 a sufficient insight into a matter which he chooses 
 to be followed up by himself alone. His daughter 
 is certainly a splendid young womau and alto- 
 gether they are very nice people." 
 
 Morton Evelyn was now in possession of funds 
 which would have enabled him to follow the world 
 of fashion out of town if he thought fit : but he 
 had no longer any inclination to quit the metro- 
 polis for the present. It was important that ha 
 should remain on the spot to pay unremitting at- 
 tention to the grand business that so vitally con- 
 cerned his interests. On the following day ha 
 settled some pressing liabilities which he had in- 
 curred ; and amongst other debts thus liquidated, 
 was his hotel-bill. He called in Bussell Square ; 
 and finding Miss Waldron alone, passed an agree- 
 able hour with her ; so that on taking his leave, ha 
 was still more impressed with~the exceeding beauty 
 of her person. 
 
 Several weeks now passed, during which Mortoa 
 Evelyn led a more regular life than for two or 
 three years he had done. He did not revisit the 
 gambling-table : he had not the slightest inclina- 
 tion so to do : the excitement of the business in 
 which he now found himself engaged, was quite 
 sufficient for him. He moreover became intimate 
 with the Waldrons, and was a constant visitor at 
 their house, where he was always most cordially 
 welcome. Honoria Waldron's eider sister wag 
 married, and was a year older than herself: this 
 lady and her husband were likewise now within 
 the range of Morton's acquaintance. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Lister — for that was their name — were hos- 
 pitable people : they lived in good style and gave 
 pleasant parties. The Waldrons likewise received 
 a great deal of company ; and Morton's name was 
 never omitted from the list of invitations at either 
 house. He soon perceived that there were several 
 young gentlemen who were anxious to pay their 
 court to Honoria Waldron : but she evidently 
 favoured none of them; whereas in a short time 
 she appeared to consider that Morton Evelyn was 
 the guest who stood upon the most friendly and 
 intimate footing at her father's house. Thus 
 Morton— half by his own accord, and half by the 
 irresistible influence of circumstances — was gradu- 
 ally led oa to pay marked attention to Honoria 
 Waldron. 
 
 As for the business, Mr. Waldron seemed to be 
 satisfied with the manner in which it was pro- 
 gressing ; though in respect to its details he left 
 Morton almost as completely in the dark as at 
 first. But in consequence of those reflections 
 which Evelyn had made on his way home from his 
 first dinner in Kussell Square, he abstained from 
 putting any pointed questions to the attorneyj 
 and aa the latter from time to time dropped a hint 
 ■which was more and more encouraging to Mor-
 
 BEAUTT A.BD PLEA9UBB. 
 
 loii'n hopes and prospects, tho young gentleman 
 Hii.:d to say to himself, " AVcll, it is better I 
 : huuld let "Woldron go on in his own wny, and 
 not pester him willi queries, nor endeavour to drag 
 him into premature rerolations." 
 
 Morton's time was fully occupied. There were 
 always new advertisements for him to draw up and 
 insert in the public journals : a considerable portion 
 of the correspondecce which these advertisements 
 elicited from all quarters of the country was ad- 
 dressed to Morton's lodgings ; and though be care- 
 fully perused it all, yet having but little aptitude 
 for business— notwithstanding that he was in other 
 respects intelligent enough — be became completely 
 bewildered amidst baptismal cerlififates, copies of 
 pedigrees, long descriptions of lineage, and all 
 
 business. Daily, at about eleven o'clock, he made 
 his appearance with all the letters at Mr. Wal- 
 dron'sofBce: and there perhaps be was engaged 
 for an hour in making memoranda which be could 
 not understand, and takiog notes which enveloped 
 him as it were in a fog. But Mr. Waldron seemed 
 to look upon everything that was being done with 
 a far more lucid gaze, and to be perfectly satistied 
 with every successive step that was taken ; so that 
 this was sufficient for Morton Evelyn. From the 
 lawyer's office he was wont to wend his way to 
 Eussell Square, where his morning calls grew 
 longer and longer ; while his evenings were now 
 invariably spent there, unless he happened to be 
 engaged at the Listers' — but even in Ibis case he 
 was certain to meet Honoria. We should add that 
 another cheque for five hundred pounds was one 
 day presented to him in a friendly oSf-hand 
 manner by Mr. Waldron ; and another bill, with 
 its accompanying warrant- of-attorney, was duly 
 signed under the special auspices of Mr. Tim- 
 perley. 
 
 And now the reader may ask whether Morton 
 
 Evelyn really loved Honoria Waldron ? But to 
 
 answer the question properly, we ought to enter 
 
 into a disquisition upon love itself, and draw the 
 
 distinction between that passion which arises from 
 
 I admiration of a handsoine face and a &oe figure, 
 
 I and that sentiment which, being of a more €>sthetic 
 
 j quality, is purely sentimental and is engendered 
 
 I by all the softest and most delicate traits of the 
 
 i feminine character. However, without elabora- 
 
 I ting the subjects, we may observe that it was the 
 
 j former feeling which Morton Evelyn experienced 
 
 I towards Honoria Waldron. He was enamoured 
 
 j of her beauty : she was a woman of whom as a 
 
 I wife he could be proud ; and moreover there was 
 
 a tinge of selBshness in bis calculations. 
 j " Her father is rich," he s^id to himself; " and 
 be will be richer still when this business of 
 I mine is brought to a conclusion. When he dies, 
 I all his fortune will no doubt be left between his 
 j two daughters. Thus, in any case, an alliance 
 I with bis family must prove an excellent match for 
 I me : for if I succeed in this business, the money 
 I which reverts to the old man as a pet centage will 
 come back to me again ; and if I fail, I shall have 
 ' secured a good position, together with a handsome 
 j competency. As for any littie defects which I 
 may have noticed in Honoria's temper or disposi- 
 tion— lUey are indeed nothing; for what being is 
 ] perfect iu this world ?" 
 I i'he reader is now prepared to Icarn that 
 
 i 
 
 Morton Erelvn made up his mind to propose to 
 Honoria Waldron. He had ah-eady recoived suf- 
 ficient encouragement, alike from her father and 
 herself — or we perhaps ought to say that he bad 
 seen sufficient indications to convince him that bis 
 suit would not be rejected by either. He there- 
 fore availed himself of an opportunity to declare 
 his attachment to Honoria Waldron ; and be woa 
 accepted, conditionally on a reference to bee 
 father. Mr. Waldron gave his assent; and thus 
 Morton became the acknowledged suitor of tb« 
 attorney's daughter. Mrs. Lister — who was al- 
 most as handsome as Honoria, and who certainly 
 possessed several traits of a more amiable chara^ 
 ter— had always received Morton with kindness; 
 and she now welcomed him as her future brother* 
 inlaw. Mr. Lister— who was a merchant — ft 
 good-natured, hospitable man, some few yean 
 older than his wife— bad also taken a liking to 
 Morton ; and thus there was not the least impedi- 
 ment to what the world would call '* the coosum* 
 mation of his happiness." 
 
 Mr. Waldron now manifested the most substan- 
 tial proofs of a generous and friendly liberality. 
 He presented Evelyn with a cheque for a couple 
 of thousand pounds, to hire and furnish a hand- 
 some house at the West End of the town; and 
 again were certain little formal documents signed 
 under the auspices of Timperley. 
 
 "For," as Mr. Waldron smilingly observed, 
 " when the grand business is brought to a conclu- I 
 sioD, there can be a settlement of all those little 
 
 Moreover Mr. Waldron intimated that he might 
 have given this couple of thousand pounds as a 
 dower to his daughter : but be knew that a bus- 
 band naturally liked to be independent of his wife; 
 end therefore he preferred the course which he was 
 now adopting. Morton thanked the lawyer with 
 an effusion of gratitude, and lost no time in fitting 
 up a commodious house for the reception of his 
 bride. 
 
 It was at the commencement of autumn, in 
 1829, that we introduced Morton Evelyn to our 
 reajers: it was in the flrst week of February, 1830 
 — precisely six months afterwards — that the nup- 
 tials were celebrated. The wedding tour was ac- 
 complished; and ai length we behold the bride- 
 groom and bride installed in their new mansion. 
 Months passed away; and though the grand busi- 
 ness thus dragged itself slowly along, yet Mr. 
 Waldron from time to time spoke more and more 
 confidently, until at last it came to be regarded as 
 a matter of course that Morton was the heir to 
 that vast property, concerning the details of which 
 he was still kept'in the dark. Mr. Waldron libe- 
 rally supplied him with money ; and it seemed ai 
 if there could have been no possible drawback tu 
 Morton's happiness, were it not that those little 
 defects of temper and disposition which he had 
 observed on Honoria's part during the period of liis 
 courtship, were now gradually taking mote palpa- 
 ble developments. He found that she was raor* 
 worldly-minded than he had thought her — that she 
 was self-willed even to imperiousness — that she 
 was growing tyrannical towards her domestics: and 
 he even feared that she was m-jre than selfish— she 
 was heartless. But he humoured her for a variety 
 of considerations. He loved her after his own 
 fashion; and he was proud of possessing so haad-
 
 AOIfES: OR, BKAUTT 
 
 PLKASUHE. 
 
 tome a wife. He moreover felt that he loy under 
 the deepest obligations to her father ; and being 
 naturally good-hearted acd generous-minded, he 
 always feared lest he himself should be in the 
 wrong in thwarting her wishes or refusing com- 
 pliance with her will. Nevertheless, as time pro- 
 gressed, his misgivings increased with regard to 
 the temper and disposition of Honoria. But on 
 the other hand, her conduct as a woman was 
 marked by the strictest propriety. She was too 
 proud for levity, and too sensible to encourage 
 adulation. In the same way she was too strong- 
 minded to be either a coquette or a flirt : indeed, 
 though fond of the gaiety and recreation of society, 
 ebe despised and abhorred its frivolities. Thus 
 Morton Evelyn experienced not the slightest cause 
 for jealousy ; and h5 possessed a wife whose superb 
 beauty was a source of gratification to his pride, 
 while it engendered not the slighU-st 
 
 At the close of the year 1830, Honoria pre- 
 •ented her husband with a daughter, upon whom 
 the name of Agnes was bestowed : for this was 
 the Christian name of Morton's deceased mother — 
 and Mr. Waldron, with a mysterious signiGcancy, 
 hinted that it was well to retain in the family 
 any honoured names which had belonged to Mor- 
 ton's progenitors. A few weeks previous to the 
 birth of Agnes, Mrs. Lister had likewise been con- 
 fined of a daughter ; and upon this babe the ma- 
 ternal name of Floiibel was bestowed. As the 
 reader may imagine, there were great rejoicings at 
 those two happy events; and Morton Evelyn 
 experienced all a father's pride and bliss when 
 contemplating the tiny face of his little Agnes. 
 Indeed, be had now every reason for being happy, 
 inasmuch as it was only a few days after the birth 
 of Agnes that Mr. "Waldron gave him the joyous 
 intelligence that the grand business itself was 
 verging towards a successful climax. 
 
 At length the day — the long-wished for day 
 •rrived, when Morton Evelyn was to receive full 
 explanations from Mr. "Waldron's lips. Little 
 Agnes was precisely one month old ; and Honoria, 
 completely convalescent, seemed more beautiful 
 than ever. She was likewise in a charming 
 humour as her husband imprinted a kiss upon her 
 cheek when rising from the breakfast-table to 
 hasten away to her father's ofllces : for Honoria 
 was naturally as much rejoiced as he himself at 
 the prospect of the speedy inheritance of vast 
 wealth. We ought perhaps here to observe that 
 though Honoria, previous to her marriage, had 
 beet tolerably conversant with her father's affairs, 
 yet she had always assured her husband that in 
 respect to the one grand secret Mr. Waldron had 
 maintained as much mystery towards herself as 
 
 It was with a light footstep, and, if possible, a 
 Btill lighter heart, that Morton Evelyn entered the 
 outer olHce in LiuC'dn's Inn Fields, and inquired 
 if Mr. 'Waldron had yet arrived? Timperley 
 looked up from bis desk with a significant smile 
 upon his usually sinister countenance, as he bade 
 Evelyn " good morning," and replied in the af- 
 firmative to his question • for the head clerk evi- 
 dently knew that this was the grand day for reve. 
 lations. The next moment Morton was in the 
 private room, where his hand was at once grasped 
 with a fervid cordiality by the lawyer 
 
 "Now, my dear Morton, sit down," said Mr. 
 Waldron, "and listen to the explanations which I 
 have to give. I will at once tell you that your 
 prospects are even more brilliant than I have 
 hitherto sufi'ered you to foresee or anticipate j and 
 if I have maintained so utter a secrecy on the 
 point, alike to Honoria and yourself, it has been 
 from the kindest motives ; for I was fearful that 
 if I raised your hopes too high, the disappointment 
 in cas3 of failure would have been sufficient to 
 crush your spirit altogether." 
 
 "I have always given you credit, my dear sir, 
 for the best of motives," replied Morton, quivering 
 with a joyous suspense. 
 
 "And you have exhibited a most praiseworthy 
 patience," resumed Waldron : "you have laboured 
 likewise with assiduity ; and at those times when 
 you least understood what you were doing, you 
 were in reality affording most material aid to the 
 progress of the business It has been, as you 
 have perceived, an affair of tediousness and of 
 difficulty — a tangled skein that to many minds 
 would have appeared impossible of unravelment. 
 But at length all is accomplished; and our labours 
 are about to be rewarded." 
 
 Mr. Waldron paused for a few moments— drew 
 his chair closer to the desk — and with a look where 
 joy blended with a business like air, he continued 
 in the following terms: — 
 
 " You are now to learn, Morten, that you are 
 the heir to enormous wealth. There are both 
 estates and ready money ; and the entire property 
 can be obtained with ease— without the slightest 
 litigation — merely with the fulfilment of certain 
 necessary forms— affidavits to b? made, documents 
 to be signed, and so forth. The ready money — 
 origioally a sum of no very considerable amount — 
 has accumulated by means of compound interest 
 to its present magnitude. The sum consists of no 
 less than two hundred thousand pounds." 
 
 " Good heavens ! is this possible ?" exclaimed 
 Morton, almost wild with joy. 
 
 "It is possible— it is true!" responded the 
 lawyer. " But do not excite yourself : be rational 
 in your rejoicings ; for you have not yet heard 
 half the happy intelligence which I have to com- 
 municate. The original sum lay for many long 
 years in the Bank of England, where, by means of 
 compound interest accumulating over and over 
 again, it reached its present vastness — when it was 
 paid over into the Sinking Fund, from the Com- 
 misioners of which Fund it can be recovered with- 
 out delay or difficulty. The estates are situated in 
 Wiltshire ; they long ago reverted to the Crown 
 through the non-appearance of an heir : but from 
 the Government they can be recovered with the 
 same ease as the money from the Sinking Fund. 
 Those estates cannot produce Jess than six thou- 
 sand a-year." 
 
 " It is marvellous !" said Morton, scarcely able 
 to credit the evidence of his own ears. 
 
 " But even this is not all," resumed Mr. Wal- 
 dron. " With those estates is associated a title. 
 They were purchased by a grant from Parliament, 
 as a reward to a distinguished personage for great 
 and important services which he rendered in the 
 copacity of Governor- General of India. That 
 personage, Morton, was your progenitor. A cen- 
 tury and a half has elapsed since Sir William 
 Evelyn, liaviiigtcrniiuato -Ibis useful and honour-
 
 iONES: OK, BEACIT 
 
 able career, as Viceroy of tlie Ano;lu-lotjiaD posses- | 
 eions, returned to this country to receive the ' 
 thanks of Parliament, the gift of the estates to 
 which I have alluded, and the peerage of Ormsby. 
 You, Morton Erclyn, are his lineal descendant-^ 
 you are the heir to his wealth— you are Lord | 
 Ormsby !" I 
 
 3Ir. Waldron bad been speaking slowly and in 
 measurei terms ; but these concluding announce- ! 
 uients he made more deliberately and cautiously 
 still; for he perceived that a faintness, produced 
 by an overpowering joy, was creeping upon Evelyn. 
 Indeed it would be impossible to describe the effect 
 of those revelations; and unable to give utterance 
 to a word, Morton took and pressed the lawyer's 
 band, retaining it for some moments, while the 
 tears trickled down bis cheeks. 
 
 " And now, my dear ilortoo," said Mr. TTal- 
 droD, after a long pause, during which the young 
 man regained bis self-possession, " I have told you 
 everything. But you cannot immediately assume 
 the title which belongs to you : you must wait 
 until the assembling of Parliament— which will be 
 in a month or six weeks— when certain forms or 
 ceremonies will have to take place before a Com- 
 mittee of Privileges of the House of Loris ; and 
 your right to the title will be immediavely recog- 
 nised. Indeed, as we have now all the documents 
 which are requisite for obtaining possession of the 
 fortune and estates, those same papers necessarily 
 establish your claim to the peerage. To-morrow 
 we will give the proper notices in respect to the 
 money and the land ;— and now you may hasten 
 home to communicate all these joyous tidings to 
 Honoria." 
 
 Morton Evelyn again pressed his fatber-in-law'e 
 hand with fervour; and he hastened from the private 
 room— for he was burning with a joyous anxiety 
 to carry the intelligence to his wife. In the front 
 ofiSce Mr. Timperley— who had evidently been all 
 along in his employer's secret— descended from his 
 high stool ; and making a low bow to Morton, 
 said, "Permit me to congratulate you, sir— or I 
 ought more properly to address you as my lord." 
 
 " No— not yet, Timperley — not quite yet !" ejacu- 
 lated Evelyn : but bow pleasing did that title a{ 
 ** my lord*' sound to his ears I 
 
 The old copying clerk— whose brain was fuddled 
 \jnth the lingering effects of the previous night's 
 potations— gazed with stupid wonderment : while 
 the out-door clerk, imitating Mr. Timperley's ex- 
 ample, leapt down from his stool and bowed to 
 Morton ; though he was as much at a loss as the 
 old copying clerk to understand the meaning of 
 the scene that was passing : fur of the three offi- 
 cials Timperley alone had been in the secret. 
 Morton threw down a five-pound note, desiring 
 that the clerks would regale themselves to cele- 
 brate his good fortune ; and he sped homeward. 
 
 The house was reached: he rushed up to the 
 drawing-room — where he found Mr. and Mrs. 
 lister seated with Honoria ; and in a moment the 
 tidings were communicated. Honoria, as the 
 reader may suppose, was too strong-minded to 
 faint : but she was sufficiently enamoured of 
 wealth and titles to give vent to the most joyous 
 exclamations on receiving the announcements from 
 her husband's lips. Mr. and Mrs. Lister proffered 
 their sincerest congratulations ; and Morton' felt 
 more proud than ever of his wife, as be thought 
 
 to himself that a coronet would sit gracefully in- 
 deed upon that superbly handsome head. 
 
 CHAPTEK IT. 
 
 Thbouohoui that day Morton Evelyn was a prey 
 to all the restlessness, the feverish excitement, and 
 the wildering sense of an intoxicating joy at the 
 brilliant prosprcts which lay before him. He had 
 no power for deliberate reflection : he was like a 
 child suddenly surrounded with quantities of new 
 toys. He embraced his wife a thousand times, and 
 lavished the most fervid caresses upon his babe. 
 Honorift was more sedate and reasonable ; but she 
 was in such an excellent humour that she did not 
 utter a syllable of rebuke or remonstrance for 
 what she nevertheless conceived to be the ex- 
 trcvagance of Morton's conduct. He could not 
 long remain in.d ors : he felt as if the whole world 
 were interested in his happiness — and he longed 
 to impart it. He was like a woman anxious to 
 communicate a secret to all her gossiping friends. 
 
 Morton sped to the hotel where in his bachelor- 
 days be was wont to dine, but where for upwards 
 of a year past he bad been almost a . perfect 
 stranger ; and he told his tale to the landlord, to 
 the waiters, and to two or three acquaintances 
 whom he met in the coffee-room. He was wild — 
 almost delirious with happiness. He proceeded 
 to the shops where he was accustomed to deal ; he 
 made purchases of things that he did not want, 
 that he might find opportunities of publishing his 
 affairs as widely as possible. He ordered home 
 quantities of the costliest jewellery as presents for 
 Honoria ; for was she not shortly to be hailed as a 
 Peeress ? and must she not deck her superb person 
 with all the most brilliant gems? Morton wan- 
 dered about the streets, stopping every acquaint, 
 ance in order to tell his tale, and bestowing the 
 most fervid pressures of the hand upon individuals 
 to whom he was only slightly known, and whom 
 he had previously been acci'stomed to pass with a 
 simple bow of recognition. He met a gentleman 
 who held a high repute in the fashionable world, 
 and whom he had originally encountered at one of 
 Mrs. Lister's evening parties. This gentleman 
 proposed that Morton should become a member of 
 the very aristocratic and exclusive club to which 
 he himself belonged : the offer was gratefully ac 
 cepted; and the fashionable gentleman promised 
 to propose Evelyn's name that very day. 
 
 A night's rest sobered down somewhat the wild- 
 ness of Morton's joy— or at least calmed its deli- 
 rium ; and after b'eakfast he set off for Mr. 
 Waldron's office. The lawyer was already there, 
 and awaiting him. Morton sat down; and Mr. 
 Waldron said, " I have drawn up the requisite 
 documents to be served as notices upon the Com- 
 missioners of the Sinking Fund and the Govern- 
 ment, They are ready for your signature." 
 
 Timperley made his appearance with the papers, 
 which Morton at once signed; and Mr. Wal iron 
 said, " Take a cab, Timperley— and leave these 
 notices in the proper quarters." 
 
 The clerk bowed and disappeared; and Wol- 
 droD, pointing to an immense pile of documents
 
 AG5ES : OB, BEAUTY AKD PLEASDEE. 
 
 tied round with red tape, said, '■ All these regard 
 you, my dear Morton. I do not know whether 
 you have the patience or inclination to look them 
 over at present " 
 
 "Perhaps," interrupted Efelyn, " it would an- 
 swer all purposes if you were to explain to me 
 precisely bow it is that X am the lineal descendant 
 of Lord Ormsby." 
 
 "His lordship was a widower and childless," re- 
 plied Waldron, " at the time he was raised to the 
 peerage. He had risen from comparatively no- 
 thing ; and the family to which he belonged — 
 your family, Morton — was a very poor one. 
 Whether it were through pride or from any other 
 motives, it is impossible at this distance of time 
 to discover; but certain it is, from some tradi- 
 tionary facts which have j*ome to my knowledge, 
 that your ancestor Lord Ormsby had long l>?en 
 estranged from all his relatives. Indeed, so com- 
 plete was this estrangement, that there is every 
 reason to believe those relatives themselves were 
 ignorant that the great man who after twenty 
 years* absence in the East, returned to England 
 laden with honours and to receive fresh ones, was 
 identical with their poor kinsmen of former times. 
 Certain it is, also, that at Lord Ormsby's death 
 
 15 
 
 y," answered Mr. Waldron. 
 make yourself thoroughly ac- 
 y particular." 
 ' said Evelyn, " I had better 
 
 'But be 
 
 
 for 
 
 the 
 
 property — although his lordship left a nephew be- 
 hind him. This nephew was in such destitute 
 circumstances that he was the inmate of .1 work- 
 house. He was a depraved and dissipated man ; 
 and his reason was impaired by a long course of 
 intemperance. Therefore, all things considered, it 
 really is not surprising that the peerage and the 
 property should have remained without a claimant. 
 That nephew of whom I have been speaking, waa 
 the father of the Andrew Evelyn to whose name 
 your recollections went back, and whose lineage it 
 was so requisite for us to trace. Tou now per- 
 ceive, my dear Morton, what intricacies I have 
 had to fathom — what a tangled skein to unravel ; 
 and if on the one hand you have to blush that 
 there should have been a worthless pauper in your 
 family, yet on the other hand you have to rejoice 
 in a lineage tracing itself back to a proud peer." 
 
 "And neither my father nor my grandfather 
 suspected their noble descent ?" said Morton, who 
 had listened with the deepest interest to Mr. Wal- 
 dron's statement. 
 
 " Assuredly not," -replied the lawyer ; " for if 
 either of them had entertained the slightest scin- 
 tillation of an idea of such a descent, the task 
 which has been so dif&cult for us, must have 
 proved a comparatively easy one for them to 
 accomplish. I have succeeded in ascertaining that 
 your progenitor Andrew Evelyn was only a small 
 tradesman at Birmingham, in a very poor way of 
 business, at the time when he removed to Liver- 
 pool, at the age of about thirty, and began laying 
 the foundation of that mercantile establishment 
 which your father subsequently raised to so 
 flourishing a condition. In short, all the parti- 
 culars at which I have been thus rapidly glancing, 
 together with many corroborative evidences, are 
 contained in these papers;" — and Mr. Waldron 
 again pointed to the huge pile which was on the 
 desk before him. 
 
 . " Sliall I be personally examined before the 
 Lords' Committee of Privileges?" inquired 
 Morton, 
 
 "Most c( 
 '• Indeed you 
 quainted wit! 
 "In that 
 take the papers with me, and lose no tin 
 dressing myself to the study of them." 
 " By all means," rejoined the lawyer, 
 sure and take great care of them ; for in a few 
 days they will have to be submitted to those autho- 
 rities at whose hands we are claiming the money 
 and the estates," 
 
 Morton promised that he would take the utmost 
 care of the precious documents; and he bore them 
 I away with him. On returning home, he found 
 1 Honoria reading the Morning Post ; and with a 
 flush of pride upon her handsome countenance, she 
 I directed her husband's attention to a particular 
 I paragraph. It was to the effect that " the Ormsby 
 Peerage, which had so long remained in abeyance 
 —together with the accompanying wealth— wa» 
 about to bo claimed by Morton Evelyn, Esq., a 
 lineal descendant of the long deceased peer." 
 
 It was no wonder that this piece of intelligence 
 should have thus been caught up by some penny-a- 
 lining caterer for the public press, inasmuch aa 
 Morton himself had published it so widely on the 
 preceding day. His joy was extreme; and his 
 pride was immensely flattered when he perused 
 that paragraph. 
 
 He and Honoria sat down to read the docu- 
 ments : but the task was for ilorton a dull one — 
 and his brain was not yet sufficiently composed to 
 enable him to catch the sense of the involved, tor- 
 tuous, and obscure legal verbiage. He therefore 
 soon abandoned it, declaring that on the morrow 
 he should be in a more congenial mood for such a 
 study. 
 
 Three or four days passed ; and Morton Evelyn 
 found that all the friends and acquaintances whom 
 he now met, addressed him as " my lord," and 
 treated him with the utmost distinction. He fell 
 in with his fashionable friend, who informed him 
 that he had been elected a member of the Club 
 under the title of Lord Ormsby. 
 
 " Eor we all saw the paragraph in the news- 
 papers," added the gentleman ; " and as it will be 
 merely a matter of form to obtain the recognition 
 of the Peers, you are already Lord Ormsby to all 
 intents and purposes. Allow me therefore the 
 pleasure of introducing your lordship to the 
 j Club." 
 
 Morton was introduced accordingly; and h« 
 i was greeted as Lord Ormsby by several noblemen 
 } and gentlemen whom he met there. A Duke, a 
 Marquis, a couple of Earls, and three or foul 
 I Barons, had thus sanctioned his immediate as- 
 sumption of the title : why therefore should ha 
 I not assume it ? Had he not for years past been 
 entitled to that proud rank, if he had but known 
 it ? And besides, it was so sweet to be addressed 
 as " my lord ;" and he should feel so proud in 
 hearing his Honoria styled " your ladyship." 
 Yes ; assuredly, he would at once take up his title 
 —at least with Mr. Waldron's permission. 
 
 Away, then, to the lawyer's office to consult hitn 
 on the subject. Mr. ^7aMron heard what he had 
 to lay— reflected for a few moments— and then 
 gave his assent. The delighted Jiorton hurried 
 home to tell Honoria that she was thenceforth to 
 be called Lady Ormsby : e. hint to the same elVect
 
 AOITES: OB, BBAtrrr aKD MFISTEB. 
 
 was given to the domestics; and the swelling The U 
 aounas of " my lord" and " mj- lady" began to j with dism 
 echo through the house — while the unconscious ' of fierce 
 babe Agnes was spoken of as the Hon. iliss say that 
 Evelyn. < ^ had takei 
 
 A few more days passed ; and favourable an- be gone. 
 
 wjer and his clerk were at first stricken 
 ay ; and then Waldron, bending a look 
 latred upon Tiaoperley, as much us to 
 it was all through him this occurrence 
 1 place, waved his hand for him to ' 
 Timperley accordingly issued from the 
 
 swcrs were received io respect to the notices which private room, closing the door behind him ; while 
 had been served by Timperley. The Commis- Waldron settled his countenance into a stern 
 eioner of Woods and Forests were quite prepared to resoluteness of expression, as if his mind were 
 give up the estates in Wiltshire— the Commis. already made up how to deal with the present 
 sioners of the Sinking Fund were equally ready to emergency. 
 
 assign the two hundred thousand pounds— so soon "And thus it is all a dream!" said Morton, 
 ae the satisfactory documentary evidence should be dashing away his tears: "nay, worse than a 
 I'coduced. Everything was thus going on well ; dream !— a vile hellish fraud ! And you, llr. WaU 
 and a day was appointed for Morton and his soli- dron— yoi» are a villain I' 
 
 citor to wait upon the Commissioners of Woods ' " Bemember, sir,'' replied the solicitor sternly, 
 and Forests and the Commissioners of the Sinking " that I am your father in-law." 
 Fund. I " But not the less a villain !" ejaculated Evelyn, 
 
 On this day Morton was to be at Mr. Waldron's with a look that was half haggard, half infuriate. 
 ' And if I be a villain, sir," r.torted Waldron, 
 
 ffice at eleven o'clock punctually, - 
 meanwhile having gained some dim and ^ague 
 knowledge of the contents of the voluminous docu. 
 ments which be had undertaken to study. It 
 happened that Morton, in his eagerness to be 
 pjnctual, was a quarter of an hour before his time 
 at the lawyer's chambers in Lincoln's Inn Fields. 
 He had caught a glimpse of the old copying-clerk 
 shuffling round the corner of the nearest street 
 and diving into a public-house to obtain his morn- 
 ing's potation ; and the out-door clerk was absent 
 
 Westminster Hall. There 
 
 " I have the means of throwing all the burden 
 of that villany upon your shoulder.s." 
 
 "No, by heaven, I am innr>cent ! — yon know 
 that I am innocent!" cried Morton: "and the 
 best proof is that not for worlds will I consent to 
 pro5t by that villany which is all your own '." 
 
 "You will consent — and you will profit by it,** 
 answered the lawyer coldly. " Toink not that I 
 am in your power : it ij you who are in mine." 
 
 "No, s:r — there is justice upon earth," er- 
 
 Iront office when Morton entered it; and he 
 gliding towards the door of Mr. Waldron's private 
 room, when he was suddenly transfixed with asto. 
 nishment on bearing the usually obsequious, re* 
 spectful, and low-speaking Timperley ejaculate in 
 a menacing manner, "Well, Mr. Waldron, those 
 are my terms ! I insist upon ten thousand — and 
 I will not take a shilling less." 
 
 " Hush, Timperley ! be reasonable !" said the 
 
 one in the claimed Morton : " and fay the living (Jod ! I ' 
 
 vindicate myself. Oh, to think that 1 should have 
 become ensnared in these fearful meshes ! But I 
 will cast them off- 1 will be another Samson rand- 
 ing the bonds which his enemies have put upon 
 him. Just heaven ! that you could be so guilty I" 
 "You had better compose,yourself and listen to 
 me," replied Waldron ; still with a cold and almost 
 scornful confidence. 
 
 Speak ! What have you to say?" gasped Mot- 
 
 !awyer, in a half-frightened, half-conciliatory ton Evelyn, sinking down upon the chair from 
 :one. which in his excitement he had sprung up. 
 
 " I am reasonable," replied Timperley, still in a ' " You have no^ seen enough of me," resumed 
 peremptory and menacing voice. "I am not Waldron, " to judge how fully capable I am of ar- 
 going to risk puttinj ray neck into a halter for ; ranging all my plans in a manner consistent with 
 fjch a beggarly trifle as five thousand. So if you my own vi9ws,my own interests,and my own safety, 
 don't accede to my terms, I will blow the whole Have the kindness to cast a glance over all our deal- 
 affair and spoil your game. There has been for- , ings together, and over all the progressive steps 
 ^ery — there is now to be perjury " i that have been taken in this business. How stand 
 
 " Hush, hush ! — for God's sake hush !" said we ? Simply as attorney agd client. I have 
 Waldron. " Consider all the expenses that I been acting for you, according to the information 
 
 iiave been at But come, Timperley, we will and instructions which you have given to me. I 
 
 f plit the difference ! You shall have seven thou- am your dupe. You came to me and told me that 
 lanJ five hundred." | you had these expectations. Yuur tale was plau- 
 
 "Not a shilling under the ten thousand!" was sible— and I listened to it. So completely did I 
 the clerk's stern response. "You had better believe it, that I advance! you considerable sums 
 make up your mind, or I will tell Evelyn when ho of money : I moreover suffered you to marry my 
 comes that it is all a rascally fraud and that lie is daughter. At the very outset — in my head clerk's 
 no more a Peer than I am." [ presence — I said that you had h ^noured me by 
 
 At that moment tiio door— which Timperley had j placing your affairs in my hands and appointing ' 
 no doubt unguardedly left ajar when entering j me jour solicitor. Nay, the very agreement which 
 to speak to his employer— was thrown wide open, I you signed in refereaoe to the per-ceutage, speci- 
 aod Morton Evelyn staggered into the private ' fies the same facts, and is in the same sense. It 
 room. His countenance was as pale as death : ' was you that inserted the advertisements in the 
 ije gasped for utterance ; but he could not speak — ' newspapers — you who received the correspondence 
 the power of articulation was suspended. Sinking ' which they elicited — you who supplied me with 
 down upon a chair he gazed with a vacant wild. 1 all the notes and memoranda that were requisite 
 ness, first at Waldron, then at Timperley; and ! for the complete making-out of the case. If there 
 his feelings suddenly tiudin''' vent, he hurat inte ! has been a tale invented concerning the iclatiau- 
 iinrs. I ship of a workhouse pauper to the deceased IJocd
 
 Ormsbv, it is jou whc have invented it ! If there 
 have been deeds forged to establish those facts, it 
 ie you who hare forged them ! They are all in 
 your own handwriting. In a word, there is not 
 a step that has been taken but what you have 
 furnished the instructions : there is not a parti- 
 cular which has been recorded but what yi ii are 
 the author of it. At least, Mr. Evelyn— or Lord 
 Ormsby, as you are, and as you must be called — 
 such ie the complexion which the whole matter 
 wears : such is the colour which I can give to it 
 before the world. And now I ask whether I can- 
 not prove that it is I who have been made the 
 dupef" 
 
 Morton eat aghast as he listened in speechless 
 dismay to these announcements which came otie 
 upon another, striking him as it were blow upon 
 blow. He was shocked and appalled a^ the awful 
 amount of viUany thereof bis father-in-law had 
 No. 3.— Ague*. 
 
 been guilty : he trembled with affright at the v?eb 
 which had been so artfully woven around him. 
 His mind had a horrible clearness for the contem- 
 plation of the truth of what Waldron had said 
 when declaring it was in his power to prove that 
 he was the dupe;— and now, when the lawyer had 
 ceased speaking, Morton gave vent to a low groan. 
 
 " Surely," continued Mr. Waldron, flattering 
 himself that his son-in-law was completely crushed, 
 and that he could mould him entirely to his will, 
 — " surely you will not renounce that title which 
 you were in such haste to assume and which it is 
 80 sweet for you to bear ? Think of your wife and 
 your child " 
 
 '■ Oh, my child !" exclaimed Morton, in a thrill- 
 ing voice of agony and with a kindred anguish 
 depicted upon his countenance. " To think that 
 my babe should grow np under the auspices of a 
 father who would know himself to be a villain if
 
 18 
 
 AOIKS ; OB, BBAUTT ASD TLEAsrEI. 
 
 he conscntcfj to pro6t by this infernal cheat ! To 
 think, toe, that tho time may come at the moment 
 1 deem mjself most secure, when an accident may 
 betray me— when the hand of justice may tear 
 away the mask from my countenance— and when a 
 felon's doom may overtake me ! Xo, by heaven ! 
 I will not advance another step in this fraud ! 
 
 " And I will do it 1" ejaculated Waldron, his 
 countenance livid with rage. " You are in my 
 power in every respect. Turn whatsoever way 
 you will, and you encounter me as the arbiter 
 of your destinies. You owe me thousands : 
 I have your bills and bonds — I can plunge 
 you into a debtor's prison I I can tax you with 
 fraud, and send you to a felon's gaol ! Kow 
 then, dare you speak of renouncing those golden 
 benefits which it is in your power to grasp ? No, 
 no, Morton ! be not so foolish," continued Mr. 
 WaldroD, speaking in a conciliatory tone. " The 
 effects would be frightful ! You would cover your- 
 self with ridicule as well as with infamy ! You 
 would involve me, Honoria, and your child in your 
 own ruin ! You think me rich : I am a beggar ! 
 1 have spent thousands for thirteen years past in 
 this very business .' I have neglected ray profes- 
 sion— I have sacrificed my resources! As for 
 future danger, Morton, there is none ! Detection 
 is impossible— no accident can ever betray you ! 
 I defy the whole world to discover the fraud of 
 those documents — unlets in your madness or folly 
 you reveal it. Kow you see that my position is a 
 desperate one ; and if you plunge me into ruin, I 
 will prove horribly vindictive. Oh ! in my ven- 
 geance I will forget daughter and grandchild— I 
 will think only o( y<m as the cause of my destruc- 
 tion, I will overwhelm you ! Look how the case 
 will tell against you. A ruined gamester comes to 
 ine with a tale which I believe ; and I am made 
 his dupe ! Ihia is the complexion the business 
 will wear !" 
 
 All Mr. Waldron's cold insolent self-possession 
 was gone : he was terribly excited i and thus with 
 mi'gled menaces, remonstrances, entreaties, argu- 
 mprts, and assurances, he endeavoured to persuade 
 Morton to continue in the path of villany in which 
 his mac'oinations had placed him. Evelyn was re- 
 flecting in agony of mind upon his wife and child 
 —but chiefly upon his child,— that innocent babe 
 who though but a few weeks old, he already 
 loved so fondly I — and he had to decide whether 
 he should becoma a villain for her sake, or whether 
 on the other hand ho should plunge her into 
 poverty. He could not make up his mind. 
 
 " Mr. Waldron," he aaid in a deep hollow voice, 
 vrhile his countenance indicated how terribly his 
 leelings had been harrowed, " I csnnat give a de- 
 > ision at present. I must take some hours to de- 
 liberate calmly : for even if I were to say j/et at 
 this moment, I could not proceed another step in 
 
 the I 
 
 
 " Take time then," answered Waldron, now in- 
 finitely relieved : for he felt assured that his last 
 speech bad touclied Morton deeply, and that he 
 would yield to his views. 
 
 Evelyn rose, took up his hat, and walked forth 
 from the private room. As he passed through the 
 front office, he encountered the sinister looks of 
 Timperley : but he quickly averted his own re- 
 gards, and went out into the fresh air. 
 
 Scarcely was he gone, when Timperley pasaed 
 into the inner room,— this time being careful to 
 close the door behind him, 
 
 " See what you have done !" ejaculated Waldroo, 
 turning fiercely upon the accomplice of his ini- 
 quity. 
 
 " Is everything ruined ?" asked Timperley, who 
 in bis anxiety to learn how matters stood, woa 
 heedless of his employer's reproach. I 
 
 " No, no— I hope not !" replied Waldron, " I ! 
 think it will be all right. But, Ah ! perhaps he ' 
 means to go and consult his wife ? He will tell : 
 her eveVythiog " ; 
 
 " And she is not a fool," interjected Timperley : j 
 " she will advise him " j 
 
 " Yes, yes ! Honoria will be on our side !" i 
 ejaculated Waldron. " But I had better go and ! 
 prepare her : or at least I had better be present I 
 whUe they are conversing together. Send at once, j 
 Timperley, and fetch me a cab. Ah ! by the bye, 
 you had better take a cab also, and invent some 
 excuse for the postponement of these appointments. 
 It will look odd else ! If you have anything tc i 
 communicate, you will find me at the West End." ' 
 
 In a few minutes Waldron was seated in a cab ; i 
 and when he reached bis destination, he founi j 
 that Morton Evelyn had not yet returned. 
 Honoria was alone, i 
 
 We must here inform the reader that from the \ 
 very first instant of Evelyn's introduction to the I 
 house in Eussell Square, eighteen months back, j 
 Honoria had been aware that it was intended be I 
 should claim the peerage and wealth of Ormsby ; 
 though her father had kept her in ignorance of the 
 one main fact that he had really no legitimate 
 right nor title thereto. Honoria had kept the 
 secret of as much as she did know until it suited 
 her father's purpose to reveal it to Morton. For 
 it was first of all deemed desirable by both father 
 and daughter, to secure him as a husband for the 
 latter ; and when this aim was accomplished, it 
 still continued necessary to multiply an-t tighten 
 the meshes around him. For the lawyer— a keen 
 reader of human character — had discovered many 
 evidences of good principle in Morton Evelyn; 
 and he was afraid that if the young man should 
 suspect ttie legitimacy of the proceedings he would 
 abandon them altogether, unless he were under 
 the pressure of coercion. When it was known 
 that Honoria was in a way to become a mother, 
 the lawyer resolved to wait until Evelyn should 
 have tasted the joys of paternity ; for Waldron 
 thought he wcu!-1 make any sacrifice of feeling 
 and of principle for his child. Hence the delay 
 which had taken place before bringing the busi- 
 ness to a crisis. 
 
 Honoria had now to learn that her father had 
 been guilty of a fraud — that her husband had dis- 
 covered it— and that if he persevered, he would be 
 winning rank an I riches at the expense of bis 
 conscience. She had likewise another secret to 
 learn, — which was, that her father's pecuniary 
 afi'airs were hopelessly involved, unless redeemed 
 by the consummation of the cheat. Honoria was 
 at first shocked on hearing these truths : but she 
 speedily recovered her self possession. Though 
 virtuous as a wife, her general principles were none 
 of the most scrupulous ; and, as both her father and 
 Timperley bad foreseen, she strenuously adopted 
 their views. She could not endare the idea oi
 
 ASNES; OB, BEAUTY AND PISASUEE. 
 
 i poverty ; she had no strength of mind for such an 
 I alternative as this: — she had tasted the sweets of 
 aristocratic rank ; and she would sooner put a 
 period to her existence than have to look the 
 world in the face and confess that she was not 
 Lady Ormsby after all, but plain Mrs. Evelyn 
 still. 
 
 " Best assured, father," she said, after a long 
 conversation with Jlr. Waldron, " that I will talk 
 Morton over. I can do anythinrr with him! — he 
 will not dare refuse to act according to my wishes. 
 But why does ho not come ? You have already 
 been here two hours Ah, that is his knock !'* 
 
 Morton had been wandering about, deliberating 
 with himself— if indeed thoughts that were full of 
 a wildering anguish can be said to constitute deli- 
 beration at all. Still he had ultimately made up 
 bi» mind what course to adopt ; and the reader 
 will speedily learn his decision. 
 
 He ascended to the drawing-room ; and on en- 
 tering it, he ejaculated, " Ah !" upon beholding 
 bis father-in-law with his wife, 
 
 " Morton — dear Morton !" exclaimed Honoria, 
 hastening forward ; " where have you boen ? — why 
 have you remained absent so long ?" 
 
 " Honoria," said Evelyn, with a tone and look 
 which left both her father and herself in utter un- 
 certainty relative to any decision to which he 
 might have come, — "I suppose that you know 
 everything ?" 
 
 " Yes — everything, dear Morton," hastily replied 
 his wife, with the most winning and cajoling air. 
 "But do not look so strange at me ! Tell me what 
 you mean to do ?" 
 
 " What would t/ou have me do ?" asked Evelyn, 
 fixing his gaze with anxious searchfulness upon bis 
 wife's splendid countenance. 
 
 " Ob, dearest Morton !" she answered, with re- 
 doubled cajoleries ; " for your sake, and for our 
 
 beloved child's you see I put myself entirely 
 
 out of the question 1 think that you must 
 
 make a little sacrifice of feeling " 
 
 "Ah! I comprehend!" interrupted Morton, 
 with BO strange a voice and look that Honoria 
 shrank baek from him. "You call it a little 
 sacrifice ef feeling ? O Honoria, Honoria !" he 
 added, now with bitterness in his accents and 
 anguish in nis countenance, " that yo» could wish 
 me to become a villain !" 
 
 "This is absurd!" said Honoria, turning dis- 
 dainfully away from bim : for since her cajoleries 
 had failed, she now meant to try the effect of an 
 imperious mood, 
 
 " Wretched man I" cried Morton, addressing 
 himself to Waldron ; " is it thus that you have 
 tutored your own child ?— is it thus that with your 
 own iniquity you have infected the mind of your 
 daughter ? Is it possible that human viUany 
 could have reached such an extent ?" 
 
 There was something so dignified in Morton's 
 look and manner at the instant— not the false 
 dignity of aristocratic assumption, but the nobility 
 of conscious innocence reproaching consummate 
 guilt— that Waldron became for a moment cowed 
 and abashed ; and he forgot the power which he 
 wielded over Morton Evelyn.- At that crisis the 
 door opened; and Timperley, looking in, said, " I 
 beg pardon for intruding— but the appointments 
 hold good for to-morrow." 
 
 "Ah! — to-morrow!" ejaculated Evelyn in 
 
 strange accents : and he rushed from the room, 
 nearly knocking down the head clerk, who was 
 lingering upon the threshold to draw some infer- 
 ence from the scene before him. 
 
 " Stop him ! he is mad !" exclaimed Waldron, 
 rushing towards the door. 
 
 " Morton, Morton ! — dear Morton ! come back I" 
 cried Honoria, also speeding forth upon the land- 
 ing. 
 
 But at that instant the front door was closed 
 violently ; and the three persons upon the landing 
 — Waldron, Honoria, and [Timperley — conteoiplated 
 one another with dismayed looks, 
 
 " What can he mean to do ?" at length asked 
 Waldron, with frightened accents. 
 
 " Depend upon it he will never come back !" re- 
 plied Timperley, with one of his most sinister 
 looks. 
 
 "Hasten to the office," exclaimed Waldron, 
 " and hide the papers ! lu his madness he may 
 go and destroy them ! I shall be there pre- 
 sently." 
 
 Timperley hurried down the staircase; and 
 Waldron, retreating into the drawing-room, flung 
 himself upon the sofa, exclaiming, " Good heaven ! 
 what does he mean to do?" 
 
 Honoria remained standing at the head of the 
 stairs, with her looks fixed upon vacancy. ifc 
 strong revulsion of feeling was taking place within 
 her. At length she paced slowly into the drawing, 
 room ; and closing the door, she advanced up to 
 Waldron. There she placed herself iu front of 
 him, and gazed upon him for a few moments with- 
 out speaking a word. 
 
 " Father," she said, at last breaking that omi- 
 nous silence, " you have done all this. See how | 
 high-minded and ho<v well-principled my husband 
 is ! Oh, a change has taken place within me — 
 and I loathe myself for having given way to the 
 temptation of riches and titles, and for having en- 
 deavoured to seduce Morton into crime. My 
 noble-hearted Morton, where have you gone t 
 Will you not come back to the wife who loves you 
 now more in your poverty than ever she did when 
 you had all your brilliant prospects before you ?*' 
 
 Honoria's voice had risen into wildly passionate 
 and vehement accents ; and she stretched forth her 
 arms as if to woo her husband back to them 
 
 "Honoria, you should not reproach me!" said 
 Waldron, starting up from the sofa. " Morton 
 will come back!— Oh, he must come back! My 
 God ! if he does not, X am ruined !" 
 
 "And your ruin, father, is a punishment for 
 your guilt !" exclaimed Honoria. " Give lua 
 back my husband — that high-minded, generous- 
 hearted husband of whom I never felt really proud 
 till now ! Oh, he has tied before your frightful 
 menaces ! It isyoa that have driven him from me I 
 No — he will never come back !—— never !" 
 
 It was in a voice of rending anguish that she 
 spoke ; and it seemed as if there were another 
 voice whicli echoed in her heart the desolating 
 word, "Never !" 
 
 Waldron remained with his daughter until a 
 late hour in the night. A servant was despatched 
 to the office to learn if Morton had been there i 
 but the man returned with a negative answer. 
 \V'aldroa was driven to despair : Honoria wept 
 over her babe, which she had never nuned nor 
 fondled so much as she did noir. Sometiuu'.i iiiui
 
 20 
 
 XeSEI; om, BBAUTT ASD FLEASUBE. 
 
 overwhelmed her father with reproaches : some- 
 times she besought him to tell her over and over 
 again what ho bad said to Eveljn at the olSce, so 
 that she might judge whether there were a chance 
 of her husband coming back : — then she would 
 remain silent for a while, plunged in the deepest 
 despondency : and then she would seek to cheer 
 her spirits by thinking of the kind looks and 
 sweet words with which she would welcome Mor- 
 ton when he should return. But he returned not ! 
 Not a syllable of message nor a line of note came 
 to relieve her from suspense : so that at midnight, 
 when the despairing Waldron took his departure, 
 the distracted Honoria sought her couch, with her 
 babe nestling in her bosom. 
 
 Several days elapsed— and no tidings were re- 
 ceived of Morton. His mysterious disappearance 
 was mentioned in the newspapers ; and in those 
 same journals advertisements were inserted im- 
 ploring him to return to his distracted wife. But 
 still he came not— nor did these appeals elicit any 
 response. Had he committed suicide ? Honoria 
 dared not ask herself the question ; while Waldron 
 at length felt convinced that such must be the 
 ease. 
 
 And one morning there were confusion and dis- 
 may, horror and consternation throughout Wal 
 dron's house in Eussell Square. The lawyer had 
 hanged himself during the night. The intelligence 
 was broken delicately to Mrs. Lister and Honoria. 
 The former, who had remained in utter ignorance 
 of her father's villany, was overwhelmed with grief: 
 but the latter received the announcement with 
 an apathetic coldness. It now became known to 
 the world that Waldron's affairs were in a hopeless 
 condition of insolvency at the time of his death ; 
 and his suicide, together with Morton Evelyn's 
 disappearance, gave birth to surmises that there 
 must have been something wrong in respect to the 
 claims upon the Ormsby peerage and property. A 
 Government official called at the office in Lincoln's 
 Inn Fields, to inquire for the papers relative to 
 those claims: but Mr. Timpcrley, who received 
 the visitor, assured him that there were no such 
 papers now at the office, and that Mr. Waldron 
 must have disposed of them previous to the fatal 
 resolve which he had doubtless taken to put a 
 period to his existence. 
 
 Honoria never confessed her knowledge of her 
 father's guilt ; nor did she give utterance to a syl. 
 lable of explanation in respect to her husband's 
 disappearance. Mr. Timperley for his own sake 
 kept the secret likewise. Honoria did not long 
 survive the events which we have been relating : 
 she had received a blow which undermined her 
 health ; and in less than a year from the date of 
 those catastrophes, the little Agnes was motherlecs. 
 Her aunt, Mrs. Lister, took charge of her ; and 
 she became a companion for her cousin Floribel, 
 who was only a few weeks older than herself. 
 
 But before closing this chapter we have yet 
 another tragic event to record. Mr. Lister, by 
 the neglect of a cold, was overtaken by a severe 
 illness, which prostrated him for weeks ; and 
 when he began to recover, he returned too soon to 
 his counting-house in the City. He experienced a 
 relapse, which proved fatal; and Mrs. Lister was 
 left a widow, but in tolerably comfortable circum- 
 stances. This calamity happened when Floribel 
 and Agnes were about six years old ; and the two 
 
 little girls were now the only solace of the 
 amiable and excellent Mrs. Lister, who loved her 
 niece as dearly as she did her own daughter. 
 
 FOBMATIOH 
 
 ACftCAIHIAjrCEa. 
 
 OuB narrative is about to take a leap of some 
 seventeen years and a half, which will bring us 
 into the n).\ddle of the summer of 18*1'8. During 
 that interval what millions and millions of occur- 
 rences had taken place, afl'ecting the interests of 
 the millions and millions of human beings upon 
 the face of the globe ! How many births had been 
 rejoiced at!— how many deaths deplored! How 
 many individual fortunes built up ! — and hov 
 many destroyed! How many hearts cheered!— 
 and how many broken! How many children 
 grown ap to fulfil all the hopes of their fond 
 parents ! — and how many to go astray and turn 
 all those bright anticipations into the bitterness 
 of disappointment ! Ob, what a bustling active 
 world is this ! — how illimitable are its vicissi- 
 tudes ! how countless are the incidents which are 
 crowded into the narrowest space of time ! 
 
 Seventeen years and a half, we said, had passed 
 away since the memorable occurrences which have 
 formed the principal theme of the previous chap, 
 ter. One afternoon — on a beautiful day in the 
 first week of July, 1848— precisely as the Horso 
 Guards' clock was striking the hour of four, a 
 young gentleman issued forth with a number of 
 brother-clerks from one of the Government Offices 
 in Whitehall. Having nodded to each other that 
 curt familiar " farewell " which expresses as it 
 were the idea of but a brief separation, and that 
 they would meet again in the same office on the 
 morrow, — they parted to proceed on their re- 
 spective ways. The young gentleman to whom 
 we have specially alluded, was a remarkably hand- 
 some and prepossessing person. Though quite a 
 stripling — for his age was midway betweea 
 eighteen and nineteen— yet he had a certain man- 
 liness about him, which displayed the dignified 
 of having entered fully upon life, 
 had recently received the appointment of a 
 clerkship in the Home Office ; and might there- 
 fore well consider himself to be fairly launched in 
 the world. He was moderately tall of stature— 
 of slender figure— and of perfect masculine sym- 
 metry. His limbs were well-knit, denoting alike 
 activity and strength; while bis carriage was 
 ' d by a certain natural ease and elegance 
 which were in moat refreshing contrast with the 
 affected airs and mawkish dandyism of many of 
 those brother-clerks from whom he had just 
 parted. 
 
 We must say a few more words relative to this 
 young gentleman before we follow in his footsteps 
 way from the Home Office. He 
 had dark hair, which clustered in natural curls 
 about a well-shaped head; and his countenance 
 had that openness and candour o' expression which 
 might even be considered more prepossessing than 
 the strict regularity of his somewhat delicately 
 chiselled features— or which at all events gave ad- 
 ditional interest to that perfect type of
 
 XaSSS; OB, BEAVIT AHD FLBi.3UBB. 
 
 beauty. There was something frank as well as 
 ipirited in the look of his large clear dark eyes,— 
 and sotnetbing that indicated goodness of dis- 
 position as well as firmness of character in the 
 espression of the well-shaped mouth. He was 
 dressed well— that is to say, genteelly, without the 
 slightest approach to foppishness or coxcombical 
 pretensions. His plain black neckerchief was 
 tied neatly, but without any evidenoe of study or 
 straining to produce an effect with an egregious 
 bow ; »o that the made-up dandy would have pro- 
 nounced it to be absolutely negligent. Altogether 
 he might be regarded as the representative or 
 type of the fine English youth unspoilt by the 
 affoctations, the frivolities, and the artificialities, 
 which of late years had obtained so strong an in. 
 fluence and tended to render young Englishmea 
 80 nauseatingly ridiculous. 
 
 The youthful clerk whom we are thus noticing, 
 pursued his way through the various thorough- 
 fares leading towards the Eegent's Park. Occa. 
 sionally he looked at his watch, evidently to time 
 himself, 60 that without rendering the process of 
 walking a laborious toil, he might still proceed 
 with a sulHcieDt quickness to enable him to reach 
 his destination with a punctuality that should pre- 
 vent him from keeping the dinner waiting. 
 
 Scarcely had he entered the Eegent's Park, 
 when he suddenly started even in the midst of 
 his walk ; and a glow of pleasure heightened the 
 uatural animation of his fine countenance. A 
 little way in front of him— proceeding in the same 
 direction, but at a less rapid pace than himself — 
 were two young ladies, whom he had at once re- 
 cognised. Their backs were towards him ; and it 
 was not so much by their dress that he thus knew 
 who they were, as by the beauty of their figures, i 
 They were both of the same height, and above the i 
 medium stature, if not actually tall. Dark 
 ringlets escaped from beneath the bonnet of one ; 
 and she was somewhat of a fuller shape than her j 
 companion— but still of a form that was perfectly | 
 modelled. Light tresses, of a golden auburn hue, 
 fell from beneath the bonnet of the other ; and , 
 her figure was of a more sylphid slenderness than 
 that of the first.mentioned young lady. The 
 Government clerk knew them each by those 
 tresses— knew them each by those shapes ; and | 
 thus their toilets had really nothing to do with , 
 this recognition. Yet we must say one word in 
 respect to those costumes. That of the dark- [ 
 haired, Hebe-shaped young lady was characterized 
 by its richness as much as by its elegance: while , 
 the toilet of the fair-haired and sylphid damsel j 
 was perhaps more pleasing on account of its sim- 
 plicity and utter absence of pretension. 
 
 The young clerk now relaxed his pace, in order i 
 to remain for a little while behind those ladies, 1 
 that he might indulge in the choice of whatsoever 
 reflections their presence— or we ought rather to j 
 say the presence of one of them had excited in his 
 mind. The reader may have already surmised 
 that he was not acquaiuted with them otherwise ' 
 than by sight ; for if he had been on speaking 
 terms, he would have felt only too glad to accost 
 them, that he might enjoy the happiness of their 
 society. Presently, however, on reaching the cor- 
 ner of one of the roads which intersect the Re- 
 gent's Park— the young ladies paused, as if deli- 
 berating io which direction they should proceed— 
 
 whether they should repair homeward, or extend 
 their ramble. While thus conversing the dark- 
 haired one happened to look round ; and as the 
 young QDvernment clerk now saw that his pre. 
 sence was perceived, he dared not, for courtesy's 
 sake, continue to linger behind those charming 
 creatures : but he was compelled to pass them by. 
 He did so, and continued his way : but it was not 
 without flinging a furtive glance towards one;—' 
 and that one was not the dark-haired, Hebe-shaped 
 beauty, but her companion with the tresses of 
 auburn gold and with the sylphid form. 
 
 " That, dear Agnes," said the dark -haired girl, 
 " is the young gentleman who has lately come into 
 our neighbcurhood, and who lives with his mother, 
 you know, at Belmont Cottage. He goes past the 
 Villa regularly every morning at nine o'clock ; and 
 returns as regularly at five. I wonder what he 
 can beP At sU events be ia exceedingly good- 
 looking." 
 
 " Hush, my dear Floribel !" said Agnes : " it i» 
 not becoming to notice the looks of young gentle- 
 men who are strangers to us." 
 
 " Heavens, Agnes !"— and a half.stifled scream 
 burst from the lips of the dark-haired Floribel, as 
 seizing her companion's arm, she drew her forcibly 
 back at the very moment they had commenced 
 crossing the extremity of the diverging road. 
 
 The ejaculation of alarm was caused by the sud« 
 den approach of a horseman whose steed was evi* 
 dently unmanageable ; and in another instant the 
 young ladies would have been run over. It was a 
 gentleman of very handsome and distinguished 
 appearance who was thus the unwilling cause of 
 their alarm and danger; and though he was per- 
 fectly skilled as an equestrian, yet so high was the 
 spirit of his horse, mingled perhaps with vicious- 
 ness, that he had evidently lost all control over it. 
 Now it began to rear and plunge : then it launched 
 forth its hind legs as if to kick its rider from its 
 back ; and then it rushed upon tke path to which 
 the affrighted damsels had retreated. There was 
 now again a moment of serious imminent danger 
 for those young ladies,— when all of a sudden an- 
 other person appeared upon the scene of excite- 
 ment. This was the Government clerk ; and 
 boldly rushing in front of the horse, he caught the 
 bridle, close up to the bit, on either side with his 
 two hands,— though actually perilling his life in 
 consequence of its terrific plungings. He made 
 the horse back itself into the road : its rider leapt 
 off; and his groom coming up at the moment, the 
 animal was consigned to the man's charge. 
 
 '' Lead him home, William," said the gentle- 
 man. "God knows I am no timid rider- but it 
 IS downright folly to risk one's neck in this 
 fashion." 
 
 The groom- who was dressed in an elegant 
 livery, and who himself bestrode a splendid animal 
 — touched his hat, and led away the vicious steed, 
 which continued to exhibit certain unmistakable 
 signs of an evil temper as it was being conducted 
 
 There was a ifiingled levity and haughtiness in 
 the tone as well as the manner in which the dis- 
 mounted rider addressed his domestic : but, as we 
 have already said, he was handsome, and had a 
 distinguished appearance. He was tall— taller 
 even than the young Government clerk : his age 
 might be about two and twenty ; he had an arista-
 
 AGNES; OB, BEAUTY AKD PI.EASU11E. 
 
 cratic prufile, slightly aquiliao, — the short, haugh* 
 tily curving upper lip wearing a mouatacbo of a 
 trotvn hue, and which was at least a couple of 
 shades darker than his hair. 
 
 But while we are thus pausing to describe him, 
 both be and the Oorernment clerk had addressed 
 themselves to the two young ladies, — the former 
 eipressing his regret that his steed should have 
 been the cause of so much alarm and peril — and 
 the latter giving utterance to such re-assuring 
 words as courtesy and circumstances suggested. 
 Agnes, the fair- haired damsel, recovered her self- 
 possession much more speedily than her compa- 
 nion; aud with the most bewitching modesty, 
 blended with a bashful confusion, she acknowledged 
 the apologies of the moustached gentleman, and 
 expressed her gratitude to the Government clerk. 
 But Floribel, the daik-haired maiden, clung to the 
 railinjfs for support, and still gave vent to ejacula- 
 tions of terror, even when all cause for alarm was 
 past. If either of the two gentlemen were the 
 least inclined to be malicious or hypercritical, he 
 might have fancied that there was some little de- 
 gree of affectation in these continued evidences of 
 alarm on the part of the dark-haired maiden. In- 
 deed, it seemed as if she wanted to be coaxed into 
 being encouraged and reassured, rather than ac- 
 complishing that end by an effort of her own will. 
 The gentleman with the moustache was therefore 
 most earnest in persevering in his reiterated apolo- 
 gies; aud Floribel at length suffered herself to be 
 pacilied. t 
 
 " I can assure you, ladies," said the gentleman 
 with the moustache, " I am perfectly wretched at 
 the idea of having, though so innocently, exposed 
 you to such an alarm- Permit me to announce 
 myself as the Hon. Mr. Hector Hardress; and 
 may I beg permission to pay my respects to- 
 morrow at your own abode, in order to satisfy 
 my mind that \ou will by that time have re- 
 covered from the effects of this incident f " 
 
 "We thank you, sir," replied Agnes, with a 
 certain modest self-possession, as well as with an 
 air which was meant to decline the proffered visit ; 
 " but we are now completely recovered." 
 
 " Yoit, Miss," said the Hon. Hector Hardress, 
 with a smile of the blandest affability, " have more 
 nerve than your companion.— I am sure you will 
 excuse me for saying so," be added, turning 
 towards Floribel ; " and when I consider that I 
 was the cause of your exceeding alarm, I hope 
 you will not refuse mo the opportunity of assuring 
 myself that it has produced no serious effects?" 
 
 " It really is not necessary," answered Floribel, 
 with a half-smiling bashfulnese : " but as you seem 
 to persist — and it will be rude on our part to de- 
 cline— I must mention that we live at Sidney 
 Villa— at no great distance hence— in the neigh- 
 bourhood 'of St. John's Wood." 
 
 A look of displeasure for a moment flitted across 
 the beautiful countenance of Agnes, as her com- 
 panisn accepted the proposal of Mr. Hardress to 
 call : but sue immediately regained her wonted 
 look of modest sweetness, as if she felt that it was 
 after all a mere act of ordinary courtesy on Flori- 
 bel's part. 
 
 We should observe that the young clerk bad 
 started slightly— but so slightly that the move- 
 ment was almost imperceptible — when the Hon. 
 Hector Hardress had announced his name ; and 
 
 for a moment he gu2ed upon him with mingled 
 interest and attention. Then, while that little 
 colloquy between Hardress and Floribel was pro- 
 ceeding, the young clerk rapidly deliberated ia 
 his mind whether he should offer to escort the 
 ladies to their residence, which was close by his 
 own home. But he thought he saw something in 
 the modest retiring manner of Agnes which wu 
 averse to any precipitate idea of improving the 
 acquaintance which had merely arisen from an ac- 
 cident ; and he did not even ask if A« also might 
 be permitted to call upon the morrow — though he 
 inwardly resolved that this step he would at least 
 take. 
 
 The Hon. Hector Hardress now raised his hat 
 to the ladies— bowed slightly to the young clerk — 
 and strolled away with the fashionable lounging 
 air of a gentleman who had no earthly thing to 
 do except dispose of his time for his own special 
 amusement— a process which on occasions might 
 be languid enough. 
 
 " I have the honour of being a neighbour of 
 your'e. Miss Evelyn," said the young clerk, thus 
 addressing himself to Agnes when Hardress had 
 lounged away. " Perhaps you will permit me to 
 name myself as Mr. De Tere." 
 
 Agnes inclined her head with a sufficiently 
 courteous acknowledgment of this announcement; 
 and Mr. Dr Tere, now raising his hat in his turn, 
 walked rapidly on. 
 
 " He knows who we are, you see," said Floribel 
 to Agnes as soon as the Government clerk was 
 beyond earshot. " But he said nothing of call- 
 ing " 
 
 " And I am sorry, Floribel," answered Agnes 
 gravely, " that you gave permission to Mr. Hard- 
 ress. And yet, my sweet cousin," she immediately 
 added, " I really cannot blame you; for inasmuch 
 as he persevered with his request, you could not 
 well refuse. It was courtesy for courtesy." 
 
 " What a distinguished-looking young roan!" 
 ejaculated Floribel. " An Honourable too ! He 
 must therefore be the son of a Lord. I wonder 
 who his father is ? I daresay we have some book 
 at home that will tell us." 
 
 " I really have no curiosity on the point," re- 
 plied Agnes. " He will doubtless call to-morrow ; 
 and pray, my dear cousin," continued the young 
 lady, with looks and accents of the most artless 
 beseeching, " do not give utterance to a syllable 
 that shall encourage him to repeat bis visit." 
 
 " Eest assured, Agnes," rejoined Floribel, with 
 something like a look of annoyance at an entreatj 
 which she perhaps interpreted as a remonstrance, 
 " I shall do nothing indiscreet or unladylike. But 
 really, my dear cousin, if we are always to lead 
 this hermit-like existence— visiting only a very few 
 families, including those odious Timperleys " 
 
 " Bemember, my dear Floribel," interrupted 
 Agnes, again speaking seriously, " that Mr. Tim- 
 perley was the confidential clerk of our poor 
 grandfather ; an I am sure he and his wife haTa 
 always shown a very kind feeling towards us." 
 
 " But his look Ewould be sufficient in a court of 
 justice to condemn him !" exclaimed Floribel Lister. 
 { " Oh, my dear cousin !" cried Miss Evelyn, in a 
 ' tone of romonst-ance, " how can you judge thus 
 j by appearances ? Mr. Timperley has raised him- 
 I self from the condition of a poor clork to that at 
 an affluent praotitioaer— — "
 
 A05BS: OB, BEADTT AND 
 
 ■* And yet I ftm convinced that my mother had 
 no very high opinion of him," responded Miss 
 lister. 
 
 '• TTLy do you entertain this sentiment?" asked 
 Agnes. 
 
 •* Because my mother did not leave us to the 
 guardianship of Mr. Tiinperley, nor entrust our 
 aioney to his keeping," replied Florlbel. "Facts 
 soeak for themselves." 
 
 " Alas !" said Agnes, in a mournful voice ; 
 ' your mother, Floribel— that kind aunt whom I 
 myself loved as if she had been my mother also — 
 died too suddenly to make any arrangements for 
 our guardianship." 
 
 " And that at least is not to be regretted," in- 
 terjected Floi-ibel : " for deeply as I deplore my dear 
 mother's loss, as you are well aware, I cannot feel 
 sorry because she did not leave us under the care 
 of persons who would perhaps have swayed a 
 tyrannical authority over us. Thank heaven ! 
 we are our own mistresses — we have a eufEcient 
 income — we have a beautiful little villa and gar- 
 
 " And yet, Floribel," interjected Agnes, " you 
 were only a few minutes back deploring what you 
 term the hermit-like existence which we lead." 
 
 " I only meant, my dear cousin," responded 
 Miss Lister, " that we ought to encourage a little 
 more society at our residence : for we really see 
 nobody. A friend now and then to drop in for a 
 inomiug call— there surely is no barm in that! 
 But come, Agnes, our discourse has grown almost 
 into a dispute; and I think it is the first time 
 since my dear mother's death, two years and a 
 half back, that we have ever talked so warmly." 
 
 " Heaven forbid that we should dispute, sweet 
 cousin !" rejoined Agnes emphatically. " Perhaps 
 my words were grave and serious : but they 
 assuredly were not warm — at least not in the 
 sense that you imply. However, let the subject 
 drop: for here we are at home." 
 
 The two young ladies had continued their walk 
 while thus conversing; and they now reached an 
 iron gate in the wall surrounding the somewhat 
 spacious garden in the midst of which their villa 
 stood. It was situated on the outskirt of the dis- 
 trict of St. John's Wood, and had a most pic- 
 turesque appearance. The front of the building 
 had a verandah running its whole length, shading 
 the windows of the drawing and dining-rooms, aa 
 well as the breakfast parlour, which were all on the 
 ground-floor. The garden was beautifully kept ; 
 and several handsome statues were scattered about 
 the grounds. 
 
 Tne front door was opened by a parlour-maid 
 of about thirty, and of most respectable appear- 
 ance ; and if an observer had been by, he would 
 have seen that it was with a glance of pride min- 
 gled even with affection that she surveyed her 
 two beautiful young mistresses as they returned 
 home after their ramble. Having put off their 
 walking apparel, they repaired to a species of 
 boudoir which they habitually occupied — and 
 which, with its casements reaching do>vu to th* 
 ground, looked upon a lawn at the back of the 
 house. There Floribel threw herself with a lan- 
 guid air upon the sofa, where she began caressing 
 « pet spaniel ; while Agnes at once took a seat at 
 her work-table and soon busied herself with s'me 
 embroidery. 
 
 But leaving the fair cousins fo? awhile, let as 
 return to young Do Tere, whom we left pursuing 
 his way homeward. Much as he deplored the 
 alarm which the beautiful damsels had experi- 
 enced—and deeply as he shuddered at the thought 
 of the danger they bad escaped — he was neverthe- 
 less in one sense pleased that the incident should 
 have occurred. It afforded him that introduction 
 to Miss Lister and Miss Evelyn which he had 
 longed to obtain, but for which he had hitherto 
 found no opportunity. For the four or five months 
 that he and his mother had dwelt in that neigh- 
 bourhood, Charles De Vere had been interested in 
 those two young ladies who dwelt by themselves in 
 the picturesque villa. He met them frequently 
 in his walks; he saw them regularly at church 
 every Sunday ; he often beheld them, through the 
 bars of the iron gate, rambling in their grounds: 
 but until this day he had never been enabled to 
 address them. 'The interest which he had at first 
 experienced in both, had gradually merged as it 
 were into a tender admiration of one ; and this 
 one, as the reader has seen, was Agnes. Whether 
 he actually loved her, Charles De Yere had not 
 reasoned sufficiently with himself to arrive at any 
 conclusion on the point: but if he had searched 
 deeply into his heart, he would have found that 
 her image had made no ordinary impression there I 
 Thus was he supremely happy that be had at 
 length formed her acquaintance, and that he had 
 a suiEcient excuse for calling at Sidney Villa on 
 the following day. 
 
 It was with even a lighter step and a more 
 animated countenance than usual, that he burst 
 into the little parlour where his mother was seated 
 at Belmont Cottage ; and having imprinted the 
 usual filial kiss upon her ch-'ok on returning from 
 his office, he exclaimed, " Ob, such an adventure ! 
 Do not be alarmed, dear mother ! — no misfortune 
 has happened ! But if I have been a few minutes 
 later than usual——*" 
 
 " In that case," said Mrs. De Vere, smiling 
 with maternal pride and affection upon her hand- 
 some son, " I am sure that my dear boy has l^ 
 proper and suflicient explanation to give." 
 
 " Only conceive I" cried Charles : " a gentle- 
 man's horse was unmanageable in the Park- it 
 nearly ran over two young ladies — and I saved 
 them ! And who do you think they were ? Those 
 beautiful girls in whom you and I have both been 
 80 much interested " 
 
 A singular expression for a moment flitted over 
 the countenance of Mrs. De Vere : but it was so 
 transient that her son perceived it not; and she 
 quietly said, "Tou mean the two young ladies 
 who reside at Sidney Villa?" 
 
 "Tes- Miss Evelyn and Miss Lister," re- 
 sponded Charles. " But the gentleman who rode 
 the unmanageable horse, and whom I really think 
 I saved from a severe fall — who do you fancy he 
 was? None other than the Hon. Mr. Hector 
 Hardress — the son of Lord Mendlesham, you 
 know, who procured me the Government situa- 
 
 Mrs. De Vere dropped her kerchief; and as she 
 stooped to pick it up, she again composed her fea- 
 tures, over which an expression still more strange 
 than the former had flitted— not quite so tran. 
 iiently— but of a more marked character : and yet 
 again her son perceifed it not— for that pretext of
 
 i.eSSe: OE, BBACTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 dropping the kerchief had enabled her to veil 
 
 ' Yes, it was none other than Mr. Hardress," 
 proceeded Charles ; " for he mentioned his name 
 to the young ladies. He is to call upon them to. 
 morrow. And I also, I suppose," added young 
 I De Vere, bis voice now suddenly faltering and his 
 manner hesitating, — " 1 also must pay my respects 
 — after the incidents of to-day." 
 
 At this moment a female- servant entered the 
 parlour to announce that dinner was served ; and 
 Charles followed his mother to the dining-room. 
 
 Belmont Cottage was a pretty little residence- 
 picturesque enough in its appearance — but without 
 the advantage which Sidney Villa possessed in the 
 addition of a good garden. It stood a little way 
 back from the road, and had some shrubs in front 
 of it, with a small enclosed space behind : but as it 
 was a new building, and the Se Veres were the 
 first tenants— moreover as they had only been a 
 few months in its occupation— there was not as yet 
 time to give that place in the rear the appearance 
 of a veritable garden. The house itself was neatly 
 and comfortably, though by no means handsomely 
 furnished : it indicated the possession of a com- 
 petency, but nothing mora, on the part of its occu- 
 
 Mrs. De Vere herself was a lady whose age 
 did not in reality exceed thirty-seven, though she 
 looked two or three years older. She possessed 
 the remains of great beauty, both of face and form : 
 but she was of a pale and somewhat sickly appear- 
 ance ; and a close observer would have noticed 
 that the traces of care as well as of indisposition 
 were upon her features. She was quiet and lady- 
 like in her manners : her voice had an habitual 
 melancholy of tone : and her movements were slow 
 and languid. All these circumstances would have 
 been perceived by any one seeing her for the first 
 time : but Charles, constantly residing with her, 
 failed to take special notice of all those little de- 
 tails to which his eye was so accustomed. He 
 knew that his mother did not enjoy particular 
 good health ; but he had no idea that she had any 
 cause for mental disquietude. 
 
 During the dinner-time, while the parlour-maid 
 was present, the conversation was not renewed 
 upon the topic which the announcement of the re- 
 past itself had interrupted : but when Mrs. De 
 Vere and her son were again alone together, it was 
 the former herself who renewed it. 
 
 " I have been thinking, my dear boy," she said, 
 " upon all you were telling me when first you 
 came home. As you are aware, I have some slight 
 
 acquaintance- " — and hero her voice became 
 
 for an instant tremulous : but concealing her 
 emotion, whatever it were, with a cough, she 
 went on to speak with firmness, — " as you 
 are aware I have some slight knowledge of 
 lord ilendlesham and his family ; and, I happen 
 to know that his son Hector Hardress has very 
 high and proud notions. Therefore, Charles, if 
 you should again happen to meet him, you must 
 not avail yourself of the little incident of to-day , 
 as a pretext for claiming acquaintance with him 
 hereafter." 
 
 ** Certainly not, my dear mother, if it be against 
 your wishes !" exclaimed young De Vere. " And 
 yet methought that my position is that of a gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 " But he is the son of a nobleman," Mrs. De Vera 
 hfcstened to observe ; " and in a word, Charles •" 
 
 " Enough, mother !" he cried, with filial readi. 
 ness to obey her. "I will do as you bid me. 
 Should Mr. Hardress acknowledge me the next 
 time we meet, I will merely return his salutation 
 and pass on. But " 
 
 " I know what you are about to say," inter- 
 rupted Mrs. De Vere : and then gajing earnestly 
 at her son, as if some little suspicion had arisen 
 in her mind relative to the interest which he took 
 in the two young ladies of Sidney Villa, she asked, 
 " Have you any particular wish to call upon Miss 
 Lister and Miss Evelyn to-morrow ?" 
 
 Charles blushed— and for a moment looked 
 down : but suddenly raising his eyes with the 
 frankness that was natural to his character, he 
 was struck by the manner in which his mother 
 was contemplating him. 
 
 " Surely," he exclaimed, " there can be nothing 
 wrong in calling upon those young ladies ?"— and 
 it was even with a feeling of intense uneasiness 
 and most anxious suspense that he spoke ; for ho 
 feared to put an interpretation upon his mother's 
 looks. 
 
 "Nothing wrong !— no, heaven forbid!" she 
 cried. " Those young ladies conduct themselves 
 with the utmost propriety ; and their character is 
 unimpeachable. God grant that they may remain 
 thus !" she added, with a deeper fervour than eh« 
 would willingly have displayed had she been at 
 the moment the complete mistress of herself. 
 
 " My dear mother, your words alarm me," said 
 the young man. " Why should you doubt that 
 Miss Lister and Miss Evelyn would always con- 
 tinue to deserve the respect of society ?" 
 
 " You mistake me, my dear boy," responded 
 Mrs. De Vere, with her natural gentleness. 
 "Those young ladies are very young to be left 
 to their own control : they must be nearly of the 
 same age — and that age cannot be eighteen. How- 
 ever well-principled and right-minded they may 
 be, yet this is an age too tender for them to be 
 left, inexperienced and artless as they no doubt 
 are, to the temptations, the snares, and the de- 
 ceits of the world. This is the reason, Charles, 
 that I feel so much for them." 
 
 " Oh, my dear mother !" exclaimed the young 
 man, " why do you not visit them? — why do you 
 not call upon them P" 
 
 "I?" almost ejaculated Mrs De Vere: then 
 again recovering her composure by an instan- 
 taneous effort, she went on speaking with her 
 usual placidity of tone and manner. " You know, 
 Charles, that I dislike all society— that my health is 
 not sulhciently good to enable me to court it — and 
 moreover, as those young ladies were already living 
 in this neighbourhood when we arrived here, it 
 would not be consistent with etiquette for me to 
 be the first to call upon them. No, Charles— I 
 shall court no society ! And remember, my dear 
 boy, this is not the first time I have warned you 
 that so long as you live with your mother, until 
 you settle otherwise in life, your existence iriH be 
 a gloomy and a monotonous one." 
 
 " Never, my di:ar parent !" he exclaimed : " for 
 heaven's sake do not think so I I would suoner 
 renounce every idea of calling upon all the Miss 
 Evelyns and all the Miss Listers in the world, thiui 
 that you should entertain sueh an idea'."
 
 AGNES ; OK, EEADTT AND PLEASUEE. 
 
 The young man sp^/fce more fervidly in hi3 
 joueroiii filial enthusiasm than the real state of 
 his heart in respect to Agnes Eveljn warranted 
 him to do : but still it was no wilful nor deliberate 
 deception on his part. It however had the effect 
 of subduing in his mother's mind the suspicion 
 which a few minutes back she had entertained 
 concerning the nature of the interest that he felt 
 in the occupants of Sidney Villa. 
 
 "Yes," she said, after a pause, during which 
 ebe reflected deeply, " you may pay your respects 
 to those young ladies to-morrow, if you can absent 
 yourself for an hour or two from the Office for 
 the purpose. But do not, my dear boy, make any 
 overtures in respect to a visit from myself to those 
 young ladies; and if they themselves should 
 happen to speak in that sense,, give theiu at once 
 to understand — but without an appearance of 
 rudeness— that your mother is loo great an in- 
 valid to see any society whatsoever." 
 
 KO. 4— AGSE8. 
 
 Charles promised to bear in mind Mrs. Vo 
 Vere's instructions; and bo retired to his couej 
 with his mind full of the imago of the beautifu! 
 Agnes, and with the joyful hope of beholding her 
 on the morrow. 
 
 CHAPTEIi VT. 
 
 rLOEIBEL ASD AGSE3. 
 
 That morrow came ; and now we must introduce 
 the reader, even more particularly than we have 
 hitherto done, to the two charming occupants of 
 Sydney Villa. 
 
 It was an hour past noon ; and if we peep into 
 that boudoir to which we have already alluded, we 
 shall find Floribel reclining in a s.rt of languid 
 indolence upon the sofa, while her cousin was
 
 2? 
 
 AGKES ; OE, BEAUTY A!tD PlEAsrBB. 
 
 icated at her work-table. The room was elegantly 
 furnished : there were beautiful statuettes of 
 alabaster upon the mantel ; and vases of flowers 
 gave a perfume to the air. Though both the 
 maidens were surpassingly beautiful, yet was there 
 ft contrast in tbeir styles of loveliness as well as 
 a marked dilTcrencc in their dispositions and 
 habits. Floribel had hair of raven darkness, while 
 that of Agnes was of the precious hue in which the 
 auburn resembles, light burnished gold. Flcribel 
 had large dark eyes, the light of which was not 
 flashing nor dazzling; but it was a lustre that 
 seemed to swim as it were in a soft languor, which 
 would even have been sensuous, were it not attem. 
 pered by the unmarred innocence and unspoilt 
 purity of her mind:— while on the other hand 
 Agnes had large blue eyes, clear and deep in their 
 hue, soft in their expression almost to melancholy, 
 and so full of refluoti.'jn and feeling that they 
 seemed only made to contemplate the heavens. 
 Floribel's complexion had the slightest and faintest 
 tinge of the brunette, but with a rich sunny tint 
 I upon the checks, where the warm blood mantled 
 at times, with any passing emotion, into the depth 
 of the carnation. The complexion of Agnes was 
 stainlessly fair, beautifully transparent, and with 
 the polish of the marble on it: yet it was not 
 of a dull dead white, nor that opaque paleness 
 which constitutes inanimation itself: it was the 
 pure warm living flesh moat delicately tinted with 
 a pale pink, which deepened upon the cheeks into 
 the softest blush of the rose. Youth and health 
 lent all their charms to both countenances and to 
 both forma : but the expression of Floribel's face 
 was that of a languid joyousness— while that of 
 Agnes was chastened into a serene and tranquil 
 ' happiues?. 
 
 • Then, in respect to the shape, that of Floribel 
 I clready betokened the expanding luxuriance of a 
 I Hebe-iike beauty; while that of Agnes had the 
 I slenderness of the sylph, softly modelled and 
 moulded into an admirable justness of proportions. 
 I There was a glowing richness about the whole per. 
 I son of Floribel which seemed to denote a nature 
 j whose feelings would be warm and whose passions 
 ! would be strong if suHected to the influences cal- 
 ! culated for their development : — while the more 
 , ctherialised soul of Agnes appeared to shine and 
 1 breathe through her with the chastest reflection. 
 There was a certain idea of luxuriousness irresisti- 
 I bly associated with Floribel : while Agnes was in. 
 I vested, as an angel, with a halo of purity and 
 innocence. You would look for love in its soft 
 voluptuousness in the dark eyes of Floribel:— you 
 would look for it in its most aesthetic purity in the 
 eyes of Agnes. You would fancy that the former 
 was fitted to lounge out her existence upon the 
 ] luxurious cushions of an oriental harem : while you 
 I would think of Agnes as a being of whom you 
 1 could not only be proud as a wife, but on whom 
 1 you could rely in the fullest confidence for the ful- 
 filment of all the sacred duties of that position. 
 ! Yuu could conceive that a husband might take de. 
 I light in beholding the superb form of Floribel 
 1 clothed in richest velvet, with gems flashing amidst 
 her ravep hair, pendant to her ears, circling her 
 seek and finely modelled arms, and shining upon 
 the luxuriant contours of her half.exposed bus 
 ) ,but on the other hand you could imagine that 
 ft husband would be best pleased to behold 
 
 ?s in the simplest apparel, trusting to her owe 
 ty as her chief adornment, a simple camellia 
 contrasting with the golden glory of her hair, and 
 eye of the observer being left to imagine 
 instead of to feast itself upon the charms which 
 the high corsage of the raiment should conceal, 
 word, if a sculptor or a painter required a 
 model for the personification of Plgasuke, Flori- 
 bel might best be chosen : while if on the other 
 hand a model was required for the delineation of 
 Beauit in all its virgin purity and its immaculate 
 lence, Agnes would be the object of the statu- 
 ary's or the limner's choice. 
 
 Yet it must not be supposed from the above 
 description which we have given of Floribel, that 
 vas devoid of good principles, or that there 
 grossness in her thoughts. Constitutionally 
 was indolent ; and by nature she was thus 
 luxurious in her appearance. She would prefer 
 the amusement of a novel to those tasks of em- 
 broidery, light work, and really intellectual studies 
 rith which her fair cousin was wont to while a^ay 
 ler own time. If Floribel could have had her 
 wn way, she would have been every evening at 
 arties and amidst gay society : while on the other 
 hand Agnes would have been thankful if no invi- 
 tations and no visits ever came to disturb the even 
 ir of her existence. Floribel was fond of 
 decorating the apartments with costly ornaments 
 frivolous nick-nacks : while Agnes was contented 
 if she beheld the vases filled with beautiful flowers. 
 Floribel lay late in bed of a morning, especially in 
 winter, when she shivered at the slightest cold : 
 but Agnes always rose early— in summer to walk 
 in the garden before breakfast, and in winter to 
 bustle about in order to promote by activity that 
 healthful circulation of the blood which could not 
 be acquired by bending over the fire. 
 
 Thus, as the reader has seen, there was a re- 
 markable contrast between the two cousins— not 
 merely in the styles of their personal beauty, but 
 likewise in their tastes, dispositions, habits, and 
 characters. "We might elaborate a thousand little 
 details in order to exemplify the latter differences: 
 but we have said enough to enable the reader to 
 form his idea of them; and the progress of our 
 narrative will in its incidents tend to the further 
 development of the contrast. 
 
 It was, as we have said, about one o'clock ia 
 the afternoon, when Floribel and Agnes were in 
 their elegantly furnished little boudoir, — the 
 former reclining indolently upon the sofa, the 
 latter engaged with her embroidery. The time- 
 piece upon the mantel proclaimed the hour: and 
 Flunbel started up, crying, " Good heavens ! is it 
 so late ? I had not an idea that it was more than 
 eleven o'clock !" 
 
 " You must have been completely absorbed, my 
 dear cousin," answered the gentle Agnes, with a 
 smile, ■' in that volume which you have been read- 
 ing." 
 
 The hook had however long ago glided from 
 Floribel's hand, and was lying upon the carpet. 
 
 "Yes— no," she said, snatching it up: "I have 
 not been reading it for an hour past. I do not 
 much like it. The heroine appears to stand upon 
 the most ridiculous scruples when the alternatives 
 are to obey her cruel parents or else to run away 
 with her lover; and he himself is a hero not over 
 and above to my taste— for if he had only pressed
 
 AGNES- OE, BEAUTY AND PLEASUEE. 
 
 her a little more, she certainly would Lave yielded 
 to his solicitation to elope. Then there might ha»e 
 been a fine chapter about Gretna Green — a pur- 
 suit—all the excitement of the chase and the dight 
 — and the successful realization of the loTers' hopes 
 
 at last. Ah ! if I had written the book " 
 
 " 1 am sure, Floribel," said Agnes, halt gravely 
 and half in sweet good-humoured raillery, " you 
 would not have inculcated so' bad a moral as to 
 represent the heroine enjoying happiness as tha 
 result of disobedience to her parents." 
 
 "I know nothing about the moral," responded 
 Floribel: "but I do know that the book would 
 have been infinitely more amusing if the plot had 
 progressed as I have suggested. But you, my 
 dear cousin, understand nothing about novels — 
 unless they are Walter Scott's or Cooper's. You 
 are better calculated to give an opinion on Mil- 
 ton's Paradise Lost, Thompson's Seasons, or 
 Crabbe's Works,— of none of which would I read 
 a line if you were to give me a thousand pounds." 
 " We all have our different tastes," observed 
 Agnes, with another sweet smile, — which, playing 
 upon her bright vermilion lips, displayed the teeth 
 that were comparable only to pearls. 
 
 " Yes— but I do not altogether envy your tastes 
 at times, Agnes, when I see you buried in your 
 Milton or your Thompson :"— and as Miss Lister 
 also smiled, it was in a scornful and contemptuous 
 manner,— her slightly pouting lips, which looked 
 in ther richness like divided cherries, displaying 
 two rows of teeth which were as faultlessly even 
 as those of Agues, but more like ivory than 
 pearl. 
 
 Ihere was a temporary silence ; and tiMc Fli 
 bel— who was really good-natured— forgetting that 
 little sentiment of petulance which she bad 
 an instant displayed, exclaimed, " But it is one 
 o'clock ! — we shall have visitors coming, and I am 
 not dressed to receive them !" 
 
 " Indeed," said Agnes, " you are perfectly well 
 dressed for a morning costume— even too much 
 
 80 " 
 
 " Oh, but I shall change my toilet !" cried 
 Floribel. " And you, my dear Agnes— in that 
 
 simple muslin dress— you really are not fit " 
 
 " I certainly shall not change it," replied Miss 
 Evelyn, firmly yet softly. 
 
 '• Ah, my dear cousin, you never think of ren- 
 dering yourself as attractive as possible !"— and 
 thus speaking, Floribel quitted the boudoir. 
 
 Agues Evelyn had not been many minutes 
 alone, when Eachel— that respectable looking par- 
 lour-maid to whom we have already alluded— 
 entered the boudoir, and placed a letter in the 
 hand of her young mistress. It had just arrived 
 by the penny post : the address was written in a 
 fluent feminine hand, and was directed to Miss 
 Evelyn. Eachel retired ; and Agnes opened the 
 letter. Her astonishment may be conceived when 
 she found the contents to run as follow .— 
 
 " The writer has reason to believe that the Hon. 
 Hector Hardress intends to call at Sidney Villa. 
 This gentleman is too much addicted to gaiety and 
 pleasure— too fond of dissipation and irregular 
 pursuits— to be an eligible acquaintance for either 
 Miss Lister or Miss Evelyn. This warning ema- 
 nates from no scandalous spirit nor from one who 
 would stoop to slander. It is the truth !— aud the 
 
 writer has suflicient faith in the propriety of Miss 
 Evelyn's sentiments and feelings, to be convinced 
 that the caution will not pass unheeded. 
 
 " As Unknovtn Feiehd." 
 
 The frank and candid nature of Agnes Evelyn 
 revolted against anonymous communications, which 
 from their very irresponsibility might at a first 
 glance be looked upon with suspicion. But the 
 warning contained in this letter at once struck her 
 as having a significancy which was in accordance 
 with the truth, and which ought not therelure to 
 be neglected. She bad not failed to remark on the 
 previous day that there was a certain commingling 
 of levity and hauteur about Hector Hardress, 
 when addressing his oomestic— and a certain ful- 
 some cajolery when addressing Floribel. Generous 
 therefore though she usually were in forming her 
 judgments of people, yet she could not now repel 
 the conviction that the anonymous warning waa 
 more or less consistent with the truth. She re. 
 gretted that circumstances should have occurred to 
 render herself and her cousin acquainted with Mr. 
 Hardress : but she resolved that if he called he 
 should receive no encouragement on her part to 
 renew his visit. Her first impulse was to show tha 
 letter to Floribel, from whom she had no secrets— 
 for the two young ladies had been brought up 
 together, as if they were sisters instead of 
 cousins. But on second thoughts she refiected 
 that Floribel would be sure to express her in- 
 dignant disbelief of all anonymous slanders ; 
 and that looking upon Hector Hardress as the 
 innocent object of one of these cowardly calum- 
 nies, she would for that very reason prove all 
 the more courteous and friendly towards him. 
 Thus Agnes came to the conclusion that it would 
 be better to retain the anonymous letter a secret ; 
 — though it pained her to do so ; for utterly guile, 
 less and completely frank-hearted, the young 
 maiden liked not the thought of adopting any 
 mystery towards her whom she loved as a sibter. 
 
 Scarcely had she destroyed the letter, when a 
 loud double knock resounded through the house ; 
 and Agnes — without the least excitement, but 
 calm and self-possessed— folded up her embroidery, 
 which she placed in her work-box ere she proceeded 
 to the drawing-room. There she found the Hon. 
 Hector Hardress aud Floribel ; for Miss Lister 
 had hastened from her chamber to the reception, 
 room the moment she heard the double knock. It 
 was evident to Agnes that Floribel bad received 
 the young patrician gentleman with a graciousness 
 which he might interpret as a friendly welcome ; 
 for he was already cdhversing with her about the 
 opera and other light matters with tha air of a 
 familiar acquaintance. The demeanour of Agnes 
 towards him Aas strictly lady-like and polite — but 
 nothing more. Indeed her words and her manner 
 at once gave him to understand that she looked 
 upon him in the light of on almost complete 
 stranger whom an accident had introduced. But 
 Hardress was a man of the world : ho affected not 
 to perceive that there was aught chilling in his 
 reception by the younger of the two ladies ; and 
 having made his bow to Agues, he glided again 
 with well-bred fashionable case into the topics 
 which her appearance had for a moment inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 Sow there was another knock at the fcunt-door )
 
 AONES; OB, BEAUTY AITD PLEASUBB. 
 
 and Mr. De Vcre was announced. The young 
 Government clerk had obtained leave of absence 
 from bis otEce for the remainder of the day ; and 
 he was thus enabled to pay this visit. Floribel — 
 who had really no preference for either, but only 
 wished to encouraf^e the calls of agreeable visitors 
 — welcomed Charles De Vere quite as graciously 
 as she had received Hector Hardress ; while Agnes 
 was less reserved and ceremonious towards the new- 
 comer. In the first place, in her manner towards 
 Hardress she was naturally under the influence of 
 the anonymous letter : while on the other hand she 
 could not help reflecting that it was to the daunt- 
 less intervention of De Voro that she and her 
 cousin were indebted for their safety on the pre- 
 ceding day. 
 
 The Hon. Hector Hardress at once saw that the 
 same incident which had introduced himself to 
 Sidney Villa, had given Charles De Tere an equal 
 claim to be a visitor there. We have already said 
 that be was a thorough man of the world ; and he 
 knew that if the ladies should happen to entertain 
 a friendly feeling towards the youth who had 
 rendered them so signal a service, it would not be 
 good policy on his own part to treat that young 
 man with coldness or hauteur. He therefore at 
 once assumed the most friendly demeanour towards 
 Charles De Vere,— whose hand was already grasped 
 in that of Hector Hardress before he had time to 
 fulfil his promise to his mother by merely bestow- 
 ing a distant salutation. It really was not young 
 De Vere's fault, nor any wilful breach of faith to- 
 wards his parent, that he thus found himself sud- 
 denly shaking hands with the son and heir of Lord 
 Mendlesham. 
 
 But during the half-hour which the call lasted, 
 Charles De Yere endeavoured as much as possible 
 to avoid becoming the object of Hector's civilities ; 
 though in doing this he bore in mind his mother's 
 qualifying injunction that he was not to exhibit 
 any pointed rudeness. Thus whatsoever little re- 
 serve he displayed might well have been taken 
 for a modest difSdence on his part ; and to this 
 did Hardress attribute it. It transpired in the 
 course of conversation that Charles De Yere 
 was a clerk in the Home Office: but in order 
 to avoid anything bordering upon communica- 
 tiveness, he did not mention the fact that it was 
 Hector's own father who had procured him that 
 situation. 
 
 The two gentlemen took their leave together ; 
 and when he reached the gate opening upon the 
 road, Hardress manifested an inclination to walk 
 with De Vere, or at least to linger for a little con- I 
 versation : but Charles, raising his hat, somewhat 
 abruptly hastened awoy. On reaching his home, j 
 Charles informed his mother that he had been to j 
 call at Sidney Villa and that ho had encountered 
 the Hon. Mr. Hardress there. He proceeded to 
 describe, with the natural frankness of his dispo- 
 sition, precisely how he had acted and everything 
 that had taken place— detailing indeed all the , 
 salient points of the conversation with an ingenuous j 
 minuteness. Thus Mrs. De Vere was rendered j 
 aa completely acquainted with everything that had 
 occurred at Sidney Villa, as if she herself had been 
 
 As Charles had a half holiday, and there was 
 yet ample leisure till dinner-time, his mother 
 agreed to accompany him for a walk. They ac- 
 
 cordingly issued forth together, and rambled into 
 
 the Regent's Park. 
 
 "You did well, my dear boy," said Mrs. Ba 
 Vere, " to abstain from mentioning to Mr. Hector 
 Hardress that it was his father. Lord Mendlesham, 
 who procured you your present situation. Indeed. 
 I forgot to tell you before— though perhaps there 
 was no need for it— but it is as well now to men- 
 tion the fact that his lordship does not wish hts 
 intervention in the matter to be known, for fear 
 lest it should bring upon him a host of other 
 claimants upon his kindness and interest." 
 
 "And how were you fortunate enough, mother," 
 asked Charles, "to succeed thus with his lord- 
 ship ?" 
 
 " He was acquainted with my family in earlier 
 years," replied Mrs. De Vere. "But referring, 
 Charles," she added hastily, " to the incidents of 
 the afternoon, I think you told me that one of the 
 young ladies was much more Dolite than the other 
 to Mr. Hardress ?" 
 
 " Yes —that was Miss Lister," responded Charles. 
 "Miss Evelyn was more reserved and distant 
 towards him : I even thought that she was cold 
 and formal, as if in the most ladyliko manner 
 giving him to understand that his presence waa 
 not exactly welcome, at least to herself." 
 
 "And do you think it was welcome to Mist 
 Lister ?" inquired Mrs. De Vere. 
 
 " My opinion is," rejoined Charles, " that she 
 is a good-humoured, gay, and somewhat thought, 
 less young lady,— who with a certain elegant iudo. 
 lence about her, is fond of chatting and gossiping 
 — I don't mean maliciously or scandalously, you 
 know— heaven forbid 1" 
 
 " But you think she is fond of society ?" ob. 
 •erved Mrs. De Vere. " And Miss Evelyn ?" 
 
 " Oh ! she is much more quiet thac her cousin," 
 exclaimed Charles. " She does not laugh near so 
 much : there is a more delicate softness in her 
 manner— a more retiring bashfulness— I scarcely 
 know how to explain myself without drawing a 
 comparison which would perhaps be invidious and 
 unfair towards Miss Lister." 
 
 "What you mean, Charles," said Mrs. DeVere, 
 "is that Miss Lister is more free, open, and at her 
 ease with strangers or new acquaintances than 
 Miss &relyn. And Miss Evelyn, you told me, in- 
 quired about myself?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Charles. " When I spoke of my 
 mother, she said that she had noticed you at 
 church, and occasionally walking out; and it was 
 in a tone of sympathy that she asked if you were 
 in good health ? It was then that anticipating 
 any overture on her part towards an acquaintance 
 with you, dear mother, I hastened to inform Miss 
 Evelyn that you never went into society, and that 
 your habits are quiet and domesticated.— But 
 really," added Charles, lowering his tone, and at 
 the same time looking around him, " I cannot 
 fancy why that elderly ill-dressed female keeps 
 hanging about us !" 
 
 These words directed the attention of Mrs. De 
 Vere to something which she had not before 
 noticed ; and glancing in the direction to which 
 her son's looks had just been turned, she perceived 
 the object of his remarks. This was a female 
 about sixty years of age, whose countenance bore 
 the unmistakable traces of dissipation, and whose 
 expression was sinister. She was of middle staturt
 
 i.G5E8; on, BKAUTT A5D PLEASUEB. 
 
 —thin almost to emaciation — and stooping in her 
 gait. She was very indifferently dressed, — her 
 ftppearance bespeaking poverty, and this poverty 
 the result of an irregular course of Ufa. 
 
 '• She has been hanging about us," said Charles, 
 •■ for the last ten minutes or a quarter of an hour. 
 When we turn, she turns : she has passed us by 
 two or three times, and taken a good stare at us 
 
 and now she is still upon our track ! If 
 
 I thought she was a deserving mendicant, I 
 would give her something: but I do not like her 
 looks." 
 
 " No— they are bad enough," said Mrs. De Vere. 
 ** Yet if she were a beggar she would scarcely hesi- 
 tate to accost U3 However, offer her a few 
 
 pence, Charles, and bid her go her way." 
 
 Young De Vere was about to comply with his 
 mother's suggestion, when on again looking round 
 he could no longer see the old woman: she had 
 probably disappeared amidst the neighbouring 
 trees. The incident was therefore quickly for- 
 gotten : and the discourse was continued between 
 the mother and son as they now retraced their 
 way homewards. 
 
 " All things considered, and apart from my 
 having obtained the situation," said Charles, " are 
 you happy, my dear mother, in having exchanged 
 our neat little residence in the country for Bel- 
 mont Cottage in the neighbourhood of the busy 
 
 " I am happy, Charles," she replied, '' when 
 doing anything which contributes to you' comfort 
 or welfare. I certainly liked the quie* and seclu- 
 sion of our rural home in Leicesters'iire; and to 
 you likewise it must have been endttred, as the 
 place where you spent so many, manj vears— in 
 tbo neighbourhood too of the school wU'^re you 
 
 "And was it not thers, dear mother," asjjed 
 Charles, in a gentle voice, " that my father 
 died?" 
 
 Mrs. De Vere did net immediately answer : 
 she turned her head away— and at length she 
 tremulously murmured the monosyllable, "Yes!" 
 
 " Forgive me, my dear mother," said Charles, 
 " if I have touched on the subject which always 
 affords you so much pain— that subject on which, 
 you know, I so very very seldom touch !— but the 
 question rose to the tip of my tongue; and, Oh! 
 is it not natural that at my age I should like to 
 learn something of my poor deceased father— that 
 f ither who died, as you have told me, in my in- 
 
 " Yes, yes— it is natural, my dear boy !" said 
 Mrs. De Vere. " But do not pursue the subject 
 now ! Another time, Charles— on a more fitting 
 occasion — when I can better compose my 
 thoughts " 
 
 " Enough, mother !" he exclaimed : " not another 
 syllable for the present !" 
 
 He instantaneously changed the discourse; and 
 in another half-hour Belmont Cottage was reached- 
 Dinner was soon after served up ; and when the 
 repast was concluded, Mrs. De Vere took her work 
 —while Charles had recourse to a book. 
 
 He frequently interrupted his reading to con- 
 Terse with his mother ; and presently, when raising 
 his eyes for this purpose, he happened to glance 
 through the window; for it was still quite lijht on 
 that long evening of summer. 
 
 " Ah !" he ejaculated : " that old woman 
 again !" 
 
 Mrs- De Vere likewise looked up; and she per- 
 ceived the sinister-faced ill-dressed crone whom she 
 and her son had noticed in the Park, now loi- 
 tering in front of the railings- She rang the bell ; 
 and when the female servant answered the sum 
 moES, Mrs- De Vere said, '"'Take these pence, 
 Margaret, to that poor woman. She doubtless 
 wishes to ask for charity, but is afraid." 
 
 The domestic issued forth accordingly ; and both 
 Mrs. De Vere and her son observed through the 
 window that the maid was detained for a few 
 minutes in conversation "by the old woman. Then 
 the domestic re-entered the house,— the crone still 
 lingering in front of it. 
 
 " I wonder what sho can want ?" exclaimed 
 Charles. " Perhaps she is not contented with 
 
 what you have sent her out or she may have 
 
 some real tale of distress to tell: in which 
 case " 
 
 " Tf you please, ma'am," said the maid, now re- 
 appearing in the room, " that poor woman begs 
 that she may have a moment's conversation witli 
 you- She says that sho knew you in other 
 days " 
 
 " Knew me ?" ejaculated Mrs. De Vere, with ti 
 sudden start. 
 
 " So she says, ma'am," continued the servant- 
 woman : " but she says that it was in other cir- 
 
 " Ah, poor thing!" interjected Charles: "she 
 may have known better times!" 
 
 "And she says," proceeded Margaret, " that if you 
 should not happen, ma'am, to recollect her face, you 
 will probably bear in mind the name of Chicklade." 
 
 Mrs. Do Vere gave no answer, and made no 
 movement. She sat perfectly still, as if in reflec- 
 tion : but had any very scrutinising regards been 
 fixed upon her countenance at the moment, they 
 would not have failed to observe certain evidences 
 of a terrific inward struggle which she was exert- 
 ing every effort to veil outwardly. Charles hap- 
 pened to be glancing through the window at the 
 time ; and the maid-servant had remained close by 
 the door, so that she was not in a position to dis- 
 cern the face of her mistress- 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. De Vere, at length breaking 
 silence — and there was something hollow in her 
 voice, though scarcely perceptible, so preternatu- 
 rally strong was the power she was exercising over 
 herself. " I have some faint rccol.ection of a per- 
 son of that name, whom I knew in different cir- 
 cumstances. But show her, Margaret, into the 
 
 breakfast- parlour and I will see what the poor 
 
 woman wants with me." 
 
 The domestic again retired ; and ia a few mo- 
 ments Mrs. Da Vere rose from her seat, looking 
 slowly around the room as if in search of some- 
 thing. Indeed it was for a pretext to procure the 
 temporary absence of her son ; and catching a 
 glimpse of a pliial upon the mantel, she said, 
 "Ah ! my dear Charles, I had well-nigh forgotten 
 that this medicine of mine is finished. The pre- 
 scription ought to be in the writing-case " 
 
 " I will run to the chemist's and have the bottle 
 refilled," eiclaimed Charles, not pausing an instant 
 to reflect why it could be that his mother assigned 
 to him a task which the servant was in the habit 
 of performing.
 
 30 
 
 i.SX£3; OB, LElLVrt AITD FLEASCCE. 
 
 The next moment he was issuing from the cut. 
 tage ; add Mrs. De Vere proceeded to the breakfast- 
 parlour. 
 
 On entering that room, she closed the door be- 
 hind her ; and as she turned to do this, a deadly 
 pallor swept over her countenance : but when she 
 again looked towards the old woman, that ghastU- 
 ness of aspect was gone — and it was only her 
 wonted paleness that rested upon her cheeks. Her 
 look too was now perfectly collected. 
 
 " Tou wish to see me, my good woman ?" said 
 Mrs. De Vcre, in a compassionating tone : *' and 
 if it be to tell a tale of distress and suffering, rest 
 assured that I shall not refuse you relief :"— at the 
 same time she drew forth her purse. 
 
 " Don't you remember me ?" asked the hag, 
 evidently somewhat taken aback by this mode of 
 address, as well as by that unblenching calmness 
 of demianour which Mrs. De Vere now wore. 
 
 " How can I remember you, my poor woman," 
 asked the lady, " when to the best of my know- 
 ledge I never saw you before ?" 
 
 " And yet your servant," rejoined the hag, 
 " told me that you seemed to bear in mind the 
 name of Chicklade." 
 
 *' I did not say so," responded Mrs. De Vere : 
 and it was still with an unfailing calmness that 
 she gave utterance to this untruth. 
 
 •'Strange!" muttered the woman; "and yet I 
 could have sworn to it, although so many years 
 have elapsed !" — then drawing closer to Mrs. De 
 Vere, she fixed her small reptile-like eyes upon the 
 lady's countenance, as it scanning every lineament 
 with the minutest scrutiny. 
 
 '•' Tell me what you require," said Mrs. De Vere : 
 " and if it be in my power I will bestow such 
 charity as I may deem you worthy of." 
 
 But while she was thus speaking, the counte- 
 nance of Mrs. Chicklade expanded or else con- 
 tracted—we scarcely know which term to use— 
 into an expression of sardonic sigoificancy ; and 
 with a leer of insolent meaning, she exclaimed, 
 ** It won't do ! you can't carry it off with this high 
 air of your's ! I'd swear that I am not mistaken ! 
 Come, iet me whisper a word in your ear." 
 
 Before the lady could possibly prevent the move- 
 ment—and indeed she was perhaps so transfixed 
 and petrified with her feelings as to be utterly in- 
 capable of drawing back a single pace — Mrs. 
 Chicklade had advanced close up to her and had 
 breathed something in her ear. The eiTect was 
 instantaneous. Mrs. De Vere started as if a rep- 
 tile had just stung her ; and a look so haggard and 
 woe-begone — Oh! so woe-begone — seized upon her 
 countenance, that the old hag exclaimed with a 
 leer of malicious triumph, "Ab, I knew I was 
 right !" 
 
 Mrs. De Vcre sank into a chair, and placed her 
 band upon her brow as if to subdue the sense of 
 excruciating anguish which had fastened itself on 
 her brain. There was a silence of upwards of a 
 minute,— during which Mrs. Chicklade watched 
 the effect which her whispered words had thus 
 produced. But suddenly Mrs. De Vere started up 
 from her seat ; and clutching the rid woman by 
 the arm, she looked with haggard eyes into her 
 countenance, saying in a deep hollow voice, " You 
 did net drop a word to my servant relative to 
 thi$ }•' 
 
 " Not a word," replied Mrs. Chicklade. " It 
 
 would have done m 
 well that when you 
 
 " Enough !" interrupted Mrs. De Tere, releac 
 ing the woman's arm from her grasp aa abruptly 
 aa she had seized upon it : and it was now with a 
 strong recoil that she stepped back. " You shall 
 have gold !— you shall have the wherewith to im- 
 prove your circumstances ! — but come not near 
 me again 1 Think not that because I yield this 
 time, I shall on any future occasion consent to be- 
 come the victim of extortion ! No — I will perish 
 sooner !" 
 
 An undefiuable expression of sinister malignity 
 passed over the hideous countenance of Mrs. 
 Chicklade : but so transient was it that Mrs. Do 
 Vere, in the desperate state of her mind, hoped 
 that her own eyes had deceived her and that no 
 such ominous look had in reality appeared upon 
 that wrinkled face. Her purse was upon the table : 
 she emptied it of its contents, which amounted to 
 about eighteen or twenty pounds in gold, silver, 
 and bank-notes ; and pointing to the money, she 
 said, '' Take it! — and I beseech you to trouble mo 
 no more !" 
 
 It was evidently an immense treasure in the 
 eyes of that harridan, who had fur a long time past 
 known penury and distress as her constant com- 
 panions. The sum even appeared to be greater 
 than she had expected to receive ; and it was thui 
 under the infiuence of her joy that Mrs. Chick- 
 lade exclaimed, " Don't be afraid, ma'am ! Yoo 
 have done the thing handsome: it will just give 
 me a lift in the world— and I sha'n't bother you 
 
 Mrs. De Vere sank down once more into the 
 chair from which she had started up ; and she 
 made an impatient gesture for the old woman to 
 be gone. A dizziness was in her brain — a film 
 was coming over her eyes— her thoughts were 
 growing confused ; and it seemed to her imagina- 
 tion as if some horrible spectre which had been 
 terrifying her was now passing away from her pre- 
 sence. It was not until she heard the door close 
 that she was re-awakened to complete conscious- 
 ness of everything that had happened. Then the 
 unfortunate lady pressed both her hands to her 
 wildly throbbing brows,— murmuring, "My God, 
 my God! wherefore such a dreadful trial as this?" 
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 THE (JAltDEH. 
 
 TuBEE months passed away ; and during this 
 period Charles De Vci^ had improved his ac- 
 quaintance with the beautiful inmates of Sidney 
 Villa. His calls were at first made at properly 
 distant intervals : but by degrees they grew more 
 frequent. Floribel always welcomed any agree- 
 able person who might drop in to help her while 
 away the time which she would otherwise languish 
 through in a sort of dreamy listlessness ; aud 
 Agnes received the young gentleman with an 
 affable courtesy. Charles became deeply ena- 
 moured of the b.'autiful Miss Evelyn, in whom ha 
 beheld something fresh to admire and' love every 
 time that he was in her society. He found that
 
 AGNES: OH. BSAUTT AND PLEASTIEB. 
 
 her disposition was amiable and artless— that her 
 mind was well cultivated— and that she uncon- 
 sciously as it were gave utterance to the noblest 
 thoughts, proving the strict rectitude of her prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 The Hon. Hector Hnrdregg likewise called fre- 
 quently at Sidney Villa : for Floribel gave him 
 sufficient encouragement to do so. This encou- 
 ragement on her part was however within the 
 strictest limits of lady-like courtesy and pro- 
 priety—just in the same way as she behaved to- 
 wards Charles De Vere himself, or any other male 
 acquaintance whose conversation she considered 
 agreeable. Ag-nes had at first done all she could, 
 by means of cold reserve, to discourage these visits 
 on the part of Hector Hardress ; and she had like- 
 wise remonstrated with Floribel against suffering 
 him to repeat his calls so frequently. But as 
 Miss Lister— though good-natured and good- 
 humoured— was self-willed, and had an argument 
 in support of everything she did, these remon- 
 strances were of no beneBciel effect ; while on the 
 other hand they threatened to disturb the harmony 
 which had hitherto reigned between the cousins. 
 Agnes therefore was at length compelled to desist 
 from speaking upon the subject ; and thus Hector 
 irardress continued to call at the villa even more 
 frequently than Charles De Vere. 
 
 The manner of Mr. Hardress was so perfectly 
 respectful in its air of well-bred friendliness— and 
 his conversation, though light and superficial, wag 
 yet so consistent with the most gentlemanly pro- 
 priety—that Agnes, little experienced as she was 
 in the ways of the world, began to think that 
 he must have been maligned by the contents of 
 that anonymous letter. Fearful therefore, in the 
 natural generosity of her disposition, that she 
 mi"ht in the first instance have yielded to the in- 
 lluence of calumny and have done him some in- 
 justice, she gradually suffered the coldness and 
 reserve of her manner to wear off; and though far 
 from becoming absolutely cordial in the reception 
 which she gave him, she no longer by her de- 
 meanour made him comprehend that his visits 
 were distasteful to herself. 
 
 If Hector Hardress were all this time becoming 
 enamoured of either of the young ladies, his man- 
 ner did not show it. It seemed as if he strove to 
 be on equally friendly terms with both — and as if 
 indeed he merely called from friendly motives as 
 well as from courtesy, and from the pleasure which 
 any young man feels at finding himself in the 
 society of beautiful young ladies. 
 
 In respect to Charles De Vere— he, with the 
 
 bishfulness of his age, and with that species of 
 
 timid fear which characterizes a first love either 
 
 with a young man or young woman, studiously 
 
 veiled the sentiments that he experienced towards 
 
 Agnes. In this there was neither actual deception 
 
 nor harm. But on the oth&r hand there waa a 
 
 little deception which Charles was practising in 
 
 another quarter — and which, though natural 
 
 enough with a youth who loved for the first time, 
 
 I had really some harm in it. In short, be con- 
 
 j cealed from his mother the frequency of his visits 
 
 to Sidney Villa. The discipline of a Glovernment 
 
 I Office is so lax that the clerks may obtain frequent 
 
 i holidays, or absent themselves for two or three 
 
 H hours afe a time on any trifiiug pretext ; and thus 
 
 / Charles had no difficulty in finding the leisure to 
 
 t 
 
 pay his visits to Sidney Villa. Often, therefore, 
 when his mother fancied he wa=< assiduously en- 
 gjiged in his duties at "Whitehall, he was in reality 
 within a stone's throw from Belmont Cottage, 
 seated with the cousins in their drawing room, or 
 rambling with them in their spacious and beauti- 
 ful garden. At first Charles had reproached him- 
 self for the little deception he was thus practising 
 towards his mother: but, alas for frail humanity! 
 it is the case with even the host of natures that 
 when they become accustomed to those smcU 
 duplicities and subterfuges which are associated 
 with the tender passion, the whisperings of con- 
 science are more or less easily stifled. 
 
 We have yet a few additional observations to 
 make before resuming the thread of our narrative. 
 During that interval of three months to which we 
 have alluded, it necessarily happened that Hard- 
 ress and De Vere frequently met at Sidney Villa. 
 True to the line of policy which he had at first 
 marked out for himself— and which consisted of 
 a determination to render himself agreeable to 
 all the acquaintances of the two cousins whom he 
 might happen to encounter at the villa, in order 
 that he should thereby prove agreeable to the 
 young ladies themselves — Hardress always ob- 
 served a most friendly demeanour towards Charles 
 De Vere. It was a friendliness which rendered it 
 impossible for the other to continue reserved or 
 distant : it was the sunshine melting the snow in 
 the latter*s own despite, end even when it did its 
 best to retain its frigidity and to resist the -thaw- 
 ing influence. Young De Vere— naturally frank- 
 hearted, as we have described him — could not 
 oppose a studied churlishness of manner to those 
 seeming overtures of friendship, and which over- 
 tures were invested with all the alluring gloss 
 which the well-bred refinement of the patrician 
 Hardress knew so well how to throw over them. 
 
 *' After nil," Charles would say to himself, " the 
 advice given me by my mother was occasioned 
 only by the apprehension lest Lord Mendlesham's 
 son should think that I was not good enough to 
 associate with him and should treat me with cold- 
 ness. She feared lest my pride should be wounded 
 by any haughty disdain on his part. Her counsel 
 was therefore good and well-meant— but the neces- 
 sity for following it has not arisen. It is suffi- 
 cient that I have not been communicative with 
 Mr. Hardress, nor suffered him to learn how I am 
 under so deep an obligation to his father for the 
 official position that I hold." 
 
 The reader now comprehends the precise terms 
 on which those characters in whom he is most in- 
 terested, stood with regard to one another at the 
 expiration of the interval of three months. It 
 was now the close of September: the weather was 
 still sunny and delicious ; but the trees had begun 
 to assume their autumnal tints. Many of the 
 flowers which were the special favourites of Agnes, 
 had faded or disappeared altogether : the fairesS 
 and most delicate of the floral beauties of her gar- 
 den were gone; but still there was suQieient of 
 pomp and gaud and loveliness in many of the re- 
 maining embellishments of the parterres to please 
 the eye and to perfume the atmosphere. 
 
 It was one forenoon that Agnes Evelyn was 
 rambling in the garden, while Floribel was loung. 
 ing in dreamy luxurious indolence upon the sofa in 
 the boudoir. Agnes had thrown oo a large sfjaw
 
 I)'J 
 
 A0HK8; OS, BEACTT ASD PIEAIUBK. 
 
 hut ; aud Bhe was attired in a neat tnotain^-des- 
 iabillif, the verj simplicitj of which was elegance 
 iisflf. Xothing could exceed the loveliness of her 
 sppearance ; and as she wandered amidst the 
 mazes of tlie arenues, the light drapery defined 
 her sjlphid form against the dark back-ground of 
 the dense folioge of the evergreens. Her well, 
 shaped feet, with their arching insteps, trod lightly 
 upon the gravel- walks ; and the skirt of her dress 
 now and then revealed the delicately rounded 
 ankles. There was a gentle breeze subduing the 
 sultriuess of the noon-day sun ; and upon that 
 zephyr's breath floated the ribbons of the large 
 straw hat— while at the same time it seemed to 
 play kissingly amongst the luxuriant tresses of her 
 bright auburn hair. 
 
 It happened that whUo Agnes was thus walking 
 in the garden. Hector Hardresp arrived at the 
 villa,— on this occasion at least an hour earlier 
 than usual. It was not without premeditation 
 that he thus made his appearance at such a time. 
 He wished to be certain that no other visitors 
 vsould be there at the same moment ; and he was 
 looking out for an opportunity of speaking alone 
 to one of the cousins. He had arrived on foot; 
 and on reaching the iron gate of the garden, which 
 happened to be open, he caught a glimpse of the 
 aylphid form of Agnes moving amidst the ever- 
 greens at a little distance. 
 
 " Ah !" he ejaculated, with an expression of sa- 
 tisfaction upon his countenance : and be entered 
 the garden. 
 
 AVithout proceeding direct towards the house, 
 he at once struck into a winding path, which in a 
 few moments brought him to the avenue where 
 Agnes was now rambling. She was proceeding 
 towards the further extremity : her back was 
 turned to the visitor— and she was unconscious of 
 his presence. He had leisure to regard the 
 sylphid form that was before him,— to mark that 
 sculptured slope of the shoulders — that slenderness 
 of the waist — those hyperion tresses which shone 
 like gold when they fluttered forth beyond the 
 shade of the large hat. And now Agnes stooped 
 to examine some flowers upon the border; and 
 [ HardresB caught a glimpse of the beautifully 
 I shaped feet and the delicately rounded ankles. A 
 I few moments afterwards Agnes reached a spot 
 ' where there was a large statue of Diana upon a 
 pedestal ; and she stood to contemplate it. We 
 have already said that there were several statues 
 interspersed about the garden, — some having been 
 selected according to the taste of Floribel, some 
 according to that of Agnes. This one of which 
 we are speaking was in the latter category; and 
 as it was a very beautiful work of art, the young 
 lady seldom passed it without pausing for a few 
 moments to contemplate it. It does not require 
 a very fanciful imagination to discern something 
 allegorical in the scene itself — that beautiful 
 maiden gazing upon that admirable statue! For 
 was there no type in the Groddess of Chastity 
 which applied to Agnes herself? Yes — it was so : 
 but Hector Hardress, though tolerably well read 
 in the classics, possessed not a mind of a suffici- 
 ently delicate contexture to be struck by the truth- 
 ful force of that natural allegory. 
 
 Agnes now heard a footstep advancing; and 
 looking around she beheld the Hon. Hector Hard- 
 rets, it was in the very nature of her artless 
 
 disposition to he at most times self-possessed and 
 composed ; and thus it was even scarcely with ■ 
 start that she became aware of his presence ; while 
 it seemed perfectly natural that on calling to pay 
 a visit, and perceiving her to be in the garden, he 
 should join her there. Tet if there were in the 
 mind of Agnes any thought at the instant mure 
 prominent than another, it was a slight sentiment 
 of surprise that Hardress should not have sought 
 her cousin in the drawing-room : for bearing ia 
 mind the cold reserve which she had for weeks 
 maintained towards Hector, and which had only 
 recently worn off — recollecting too that it was 
 Floribel who generally sustained the conversation 
 with him when it turned upon operas and novels 
 and other superficialities — Agnes naturally con- 
 ceived that ilr. Hardress preferred her cousin's 
 society to her own. 
 
 "Perhaps I ought to apologize. Miss Evelyn," 
 said Hector, after a few observations had been 
 exchanged, " for making my appearance at such 
 an hour at your abode: but I confess that I had a 
 fixed object iu view.*' 
 
 " Indeed, ilr. Hardress ? " said Agnes, wonder- 
 ing what that object could be, but almost inclined 
 to think it would prove some frivolous triviality. 
 
 '• Yes, iliss Evelyn." he continued, " I have a 
 purpose which I can no longer defer, and yet even 
 now I scarcely know in what manner to approach 
 the subject. Pray be patient with me ! It is im- 
 possible that for three months I could have visited 
 at Sidney Villa without becoming deeply sensible 
 of the beauty ot otu who is in every way worthy 
 of my regard. To behold that one— to be fre- 
 quently in her society— to enjoy her conversation 
 
 — to listen to the tones of her voice Ah ! I 
 
 should he possessed of a heart of stone if I had 
 remained unsusceptible ol all those influences !" 
 j Agnes thought to herself, "He loves Floribel; 
 and he chooses to consult me before he avows 
 himself to her. It is kind— it is delicate — it is 
 discreet on his part 1" 
 
 "What answer may I expect. Miss Evelyn?" 
 continued Hector. "Dare 1 indulge in a hope? 
 , — may I venture to flatter myself that I shall not 
 be doomed to the bitterness of disappointment ?" 
 
 " I thank Tou, Mr. Hardress," responded 
 Agnes, with a soft maidenly dignity, blending 
 with a greater friendliness of manner than she bad 
 ever yet displayed towards him, " for the compli- 
 ment you are paying me, and for the honour 
 which you are confering upon me, by addressing 
 me thus in the first instouce. But I know not 
 
 how to answer you unless it be by putting a 
 
 preliminary question." 
 
 " Oh, ask me anything," exclaimed Hector, 
 whose inward rapture was so great as almost to 
 subdue the enthusiasm of his tone; "and rest 
 assured that I will deal frankly and candidly n itii 
 you !" 
 
 Hardress rose still higher in the lady's estima- 
 tion ; and every lingering influence (if any there 
 still were) of the anonymous letter passed away 
 from her mind. 
 I " The question I would put, Mr. Hardress," pro- 
 I ceeded Agnes, "is whether your parents. Lord 
 and Lady Meodleebam, are acquainted with the 
 step you are now taking i" 
 
 " Frankly, Miss Evelyn, they are not," rejoined 
 I Hector. " In the first place I felt it to be uo-
 
 rytc open my heart to them, until I had 
 prOTiouBly acquired the certainty that my suit 
 would not be unacceptable to its adored object. 
 Secondly, my father has his pride, and his preju- 
 dices : these cannot be overcome in a moment- 
 it will be the work of a little time— and cautiou on 
 my part is all the more necessary inasmuch as 
 during my father's lifetime I am totally dependent 
 on his purse for my income." 
 
 " You speak candidly, Mr. Hardress," said 
 Agnes, in a tone of approval ; "and your con. 
 duct is honourable and straightforward. But still 
 that pride and those prejudices to which you have 
 alluded " 
 
 " Ah, Miss Evelyn !" exclaimed Hector, " where 
 i« the love that is happy enough to have no ob- 
 stacles to encounter ? Can its sincerity be believed 
 in if it exists not in spite of them?— and is not 
 jta very strength to be proven by its success in 
 
 .- Mrmounting them ? I had flattered myself" 
 
 So. $.— Adbes. 
 
 and here it struct Agnes that his voice assumed a 
 certain tenderness which ought perhaps more pro- 
 perly to have been reserved for the moment when 
 he should addren himself to Floribel— " I had 
 flattered myself tuat if this love of mine were re- 
 ciprocated, there need be but little delay in the 
 consummation of my happiness. I allude to a 
 private marriage " 
 
 "No— never!" exclaimed Agnes emphatically. 
 " I am convinced that Floribel " 
 
 " Pray listen to me, Mis* Evelyn !" interrupted 
 Hector emphatically. " Your cousin Miss Lister 
 might object : but there are a thousand arguments 
 in favour of that course. I am of age— the mar- 
 riage would be a legal one — and I have no right 
 to sacrifice my happiness to the pride or preju- 
 dices of parents. Again, during the time that the 
 concealment of such an union might be necessary 
 until I should have prepared Lord and Lady Metj- 
 dleBham for the intelligence, my means are amply
 
 31 
 
 ASSES; OB, BBACTT ASD PLEASUEB. 
 
 su£&cieat fur tbe proper luaintenancd oi her who 
 would thus become my beloved bride. In a 
 
 word " 
 
 "Enough, Mr. Hardrees," said Agnes, firmlj 
 jet kindlj : " your reasonings, however well meant 
 — and I give you credit for tbe most honourable 
 sincerity — have failed to convince me. You have 
 sought my opinion ; and I now give it. Seyer 
 
 with my concurrence shall Floribel " 
 
 " Floribel ?" ejaculated Hardress, stopping short 
 in his walk with Agnes along the shady avenue ; 
 and his look suddenly became full of bewildered 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Hardress," continued Agnes— though 
 at a loss to conceive the cause of his strange looks ; 
 " I never could counsel my cousin to become your's 
 by a clandestine alliance. And remember, I am 
 b.' no means confident that she regards you other, 
 wise than as a mere friendly acquaintance. I 
 hope that in the circumstances in which you are 
 placed in regard to your parents, you will not 
 
 speak to Floribel on the subject " 
 
 " Good heaven ! is it possible that such an error 
 should have existed all this time f" exclaimed 
 Hardress. " It is not Floribel whom I love!— it 
 is not your cousin who has won my heart ! It is ] 
 you, adored and beautiful Agnes !— it ii your, i 
 self !" 
 
 For a few instants Miss Evelyn gazed upon ! 
 Hector with a look of mingled bewilderment and i 
 affright : then she suddenly became filled with con- 
 tusion, the roses blushing upon her cheeks : but by ' 
 a transition as rapid as the preceding ones, she 
 regained her self-possession; and she said, " U 
 ^vas indeed an error of which I was most: innocent ! 
 But while now thanking you, Mr. Hardress, in 
 
 another sense " 
 
 " Oh, Agnes !" he exclaimed, " do not destroy 
 the hope which you have conjured up !— do not 
 dash me down from the height of my happi- 
 ness " I 
 
 " Stop, sir 1" said Agnes, with maiden dignity 
 and firmness, though without anger— for tbe young 
 patrician had neither spoken nor done aught that 
 was otherwise than flattering and complimentary 
 to herself ; " this is language to which I must not 
 listen — because it is out of my power to give 
 you the slightest hope or the faintest encourage. 
 ment." 
 
 " Agnes !" he cried, " you are reducing me to 
 despair ! By heaven, I adore you!" — and seizing 
 
 ( her hand, he was on the point of conveying it to 
 
 I his lips. 
 
 I Then that young maiden of less than eighteen 
 
 j years of age, displayed all a woman's dignity ; and 
 exclaiming, '■ Eelease my hand, sir !" she forcibly 
 
 - drew it from him ere bis lips had touched it. 
 
 Hardress was maddened by the intensity of his 
 
 [ passion, as well as the pressure, though so tempo, 
 rary, in which he had retained that beauteous 
 band, so white, so soft, so warm. His eyes were 
 
 I devouring the transcendent loveliness of her coun- 
 tenance, and wandering rapidly over the faultless 
 
 outlines of her shape, 
 
 He was not the master of 
 seized her in his 
 arms,— exclaiming, " By heaven, Agnes, you shall 
 be mine !" 
 
 His hot breath fanned her check : but before 
 that pure damask cheek of her's was polluted by 
 the lustful kiss of bis lips, the indignant girl, sud- 
 
 denly inspired with a preterhuman strength, bad 
 torn herself from bis arms. At the same instant 
 there was a crashing and rushing amidst the ever- 
 greens-some one darted forth — and as if a flash 
 of lightning had struck him, Hardress was levelled 
 upon the ground. 
 
 It was Charles De Vere who had thus suddenly 
 appeared upon tbe scene. 
 
 Hector sprang to bis feet ; and with a savage 
 cry be was about to rush at the young Govern- 
 ment clerk,— when Agnes, who had ahready flung 
 a glance full of gratitude upon Charles, exclaimed, 
 " Dare not, Mr. Hardress, to make this place the 
 scene of your violence !" 
 
 "No— you are right!" said Hector, in a voice 
 hoarse with rage, while his countenance was 
 ghastly pale and the quick workings of his fea- 
 tures showed how deep was the concentration of 
 his fury : then without uttering another word, he 
 flung a look of vindictive hatred upon Charles — 
 picked up his hat, and sped away. 
 
 We must here interrupt the thread of our nar- 
 rative for a few moments to describe how it was 
 that young De Vere bad happened to make hta 
 appearance upon the spot at that particular mo- 
 ment. He had obtained a whole holiday from his 
 Office; and inspired by his cherished yet untold 
 affection for Agnes, he had repaired to the villa, 
 without much reflection upon the somewhat early 
 period of tbe day for such a visit. On arriving 
 at the bouse, he learnt from Bachel that Mis« 
 Lister was not yet visible (for she had only just 
 gone up to put off her morning negligee), and that 
 Miss Evelyn was in the gEirden. Charles had 
 therefore hastened to join Agnes in her ramble, — 
 blessing his stars at the lucky prospect of finding 
 himself alone with her. He caught a glimpse of 
 her white drapery through the evergreens: he 
 approached from tbe opposite side of the verdant 
 barrier ; and then voices met his ear. Hardresfl 
 was speaking,— was speaking too of love ! Charles 
 was transfixed to the sput. He was incapable of 
 becoming a deliberate, wilful, and premeditated 
 listener : but he had no thought now for anything 
 but the one subject which so vitally concerned 
 him. It was the subject upon which all his 
 earthly happiness depended! Therefore he lis- 
 tened. Good heavens ! Hector Hardress was 
 avowing his love to Agnes ; and Agnes was not 
 rejecting him ! — her words were tantamount to an 
 acknowledgment that his suit was not disagree- 
 able ! And now Hardress speaks of a clandestine 
 marriage ! What will Agnes reply ? Charles 
 was full of the poignant agony of suspense. Ab, 
 she repudiates the idea with firmness— she re- 
 fuses her consent I Still she loves him ; and 
 Charles is reduced to despair ! No, no ! she loves 
 him not !— it is all an error- she was thinking that 
 Hardress merely did her the honour to consult her 
 in respect to her cousin Floribel. Joy ! joy ! the 
 heart of young De Vere bounds and leaps within 
 him. But, Ah ! what is that ? Hardress speaks 
 vehemently. An insult to Agnes ! Oh to punish 
 the author of that insult !— to strike him down! 
 And it was done. 
 
 Hector Hardress fled: Charles remained alone 
 with Agnes. Warmly yet modestly did she ex- 
 press her gratitude for bis chivalrous conduct; and 
 he exclaimed in an impassioned tone that so long 
 as he bad an arm to protect her, no Uviog being
 
 A03IE3; OK, BEAUTV AND PLEASURE. 
 
 should injure a single hair of her head. In the I pering in his soul, which seemed to give him the 
 excitement of her feelings, and in the wild appre- assurance that he was not an object of indifference 
 hension which had now sprung up in her mind, i to her. They were already placed upon terms of 
 Agnes did not catch the full signi6cancy of that , a friendly intimacy ; and the way in which she had 
 declaration; and she hastened to say in a voice of thanked him for his chivalrous intervention on her 
 tremulous entreaty, "Promise me, Mr. De Vere — behalf, was replete with the moat fervid gratitude. 
 promise me, I conjure you, that this incident shall It is true that gratitude and friendship are not the 
 ipleasant results ?" component parts of love : but still they frequently 
 
 The words of Agnes suddenly reminded Charles 
 of the position in which he now stood towards 
 Hector Hardrcss ; and he was smitten with the 
 conviction that a duel must be the inevitable eon. 
 sequence. But without absolutely pledging him- 
 self to reject any hostile cartel that might be sent 
 to him, De Vere said a thousand hurried things to 
 assuage Miss Evelyn's alarm ; and the impression 
 he thus succeeded in making upon her mind, was 
 to tlie effect that her wishes should be attended to. 
 She herself was now safistied : for she knew too 
 little of the imperious nature of the world's bar- 
 baric " code of honour " to be aware that if Charles 
 refused to accept a challenge he would be branded 
 as a coward. 
 
 Oh ! gladly would young De Vere have availed 
 himself of this opportunity to avow his love for 
 Agnes: but the natural delicacy of liis mind made 
 him reflect that the moment was most inopportune, 
 and that such a procedure on his part would be 
 taking an ungenerous advantage of the service 
 which he had rendered the young maiden. Tet it 
 was evident, from the manner in which she now 
 addressed him, that they were suddenly placed on a 
 footing of friendly intimacy which was very dif- 
 ferent from the mere acquaintanceship that had 
 previously subsisted. Charles felt that it was 
 already a great point gained ; and his heart beat 
 with exultation at the thought of having been 
 enabled to render so signal a service to the beauti- 
 fal creature whom he adored. 
 
 " And now, Mr. De Vere," she said, still trem- 
 bling with the effects of recent agitation, the sense 
 of an insult received, and that fear of the conse- 
 quences to its avenger which had only just been 
 assuaged, — " you will not think me rude if I ask 
 you to leave me. I must tell all this to my 
 sousin ; and I would fain be alone with her when 
 I speak of the ungentlemanly conduct of one 
 person and the noble generosity of another." 
 
 " Yes, I will leave you. Miss Evelyn," replied 
 Charles : and for a moment he pressed the fair soft 
 
 prove the stepping-stones by which the soul ad- 
 vances towards the shrine of the softer sentiment. 
 Such was the reflection which the young Govern- 
 ment clerk made as he issued forth from the 
 grounds of Sidney Villa. 
 
 Endeavouring to compose his looks as much as 
 possible, and to banish from them the reflection of 
 that tell-tale joy which he was very far from wish- 
 ing to banish from his heart, he bent his steps 
 homeward. The front door had a handle by which 
 he could let himself in ; and he was proceeding to 
 the parlour to inform his mother that he had « 
 holiday, when he stopped short on hearing her 
 voice speaking inside that room with a tone of un« 
 usual excitement. 
 
 "Again, then— and for the last time will I yield 
 to you !" Mrs. De Vere was saying. " But under- 
 stand me well! my mind is made up— my deter- 
 mination is taken " 
 
 Another voice interposed something— but what 
 it was Charles could not catch ; and hearing the 
 handle of the door move as if some one were about 
 to issue forth, ho retreated into the opposite apart- 
 ment; for if ho were caught standing there, it 
 might be fancied that he was playing the part of 
 an eavesdropper. In a few moments he heard 
 some one leave the house; and looking through 
 the window, he instantaneously recognised that 
 sinister-looking old woman who three months back 
 had sought an interview with his mother. Until 
 this moment it had never struck Charles otherwise 
 than that Mrs. Chicklade had been the object of 
 mere charity on his mother's part : but now he 
 was astonished and bewildered as he reflected that 
 there must be something like extortion in her pro- 
 ceedings. It was not so much the abstract sense 
 of the words which he had just heard fall from 
 Mrs. De Vere's lips : but it was the excited tone 
 in which they were uttered that engendered his 
 suspicion. The words themselves might merely 
 have conveyed a remonstrance for the renewal of 
 a mendicant application to a source whence relief 
 hand which had been snatched away from his ; had been on a former occasion afl"orded : but it 
 rivjl, but which was now, in all the frankness of was so unlike hia mother to address harsh or pe- 
 an ingenuous gratitude, extended towards him- ! remptory language to anyone — especially an un- 
 self. ' fortunate creature in whose better days she had 
 
 "And remember," added Agnes impressively, known her. 
 while there was a pathetic earnestness in her ' But while these reflections were passing rapidly 
 beautiful blue eyes as well as in the liquid tones of through the mind of the young clerk, itrs. De 
 her sweet voice,— " remember, Mr. De Vere, that Vere entered the roo:a. She started; and an 
 there are to be no serious consequences from the ejaculation in which there seemed to be something 
 deplorable incident of this day." even more than surprise, burst from her lips — 
 
 " None, Miss Evelyn !" he exclaimed : and then, while Charles noticed that for an instant she 
 as he turned away from her, he added, but in a wore a strange ghastly look, 
 voice inaudible to herself, '■ Not if consistently " My dear mother," he cried, bounding towards 
 with mine own honour I can adhere to the as- her, " something has happened to annoy you f 
 
 lurance I have given you, beloved and beautiful That old woman " 
 
 Agnw I" '• When did you return, Charles ?" demanded 
 
 There had been nothing in the looks, the words, Mrs. De Vere abruptly : " when did you coma 
 or the manner of the young lady to inspire Charles in f" 
 
 with the conviction that his passion was recipro- "Not three minutes ago," replied the young 
 Mted y but still there was some secret voice whis- man.
 
 ASHES ; OE, BEACTT ASD PIEASUKB. 
 
 " And perhaps you sought me in the other par- 
 lour ?" said Mrs. De Vere, endeaTOuring to pre- 
 vent her looks and tone from betrajing the 
 strong feverish anxiety with which she put the 
 question. 
 
 " Tes," answered Charles : " but I heard the 
 sound of jour voice— you were speaking excitedly 
 —I was afraid of being thought a listener— and I 
 came in here." 
 
 " And you heard me say," gasped Mrs. De Vere, 
 — " Tou heard me saying something " 
 
 " Frankly, my dear mother," rejoined the young 
 man, astonished and pained by this scene, " 1 
 heard you tell that woman that it was for the last 
 time — that you were determined — and that your 
 mind was made up. I heard no more." 
 
 *' Ah I" said Mrs. De Vere, with a deep sigh indi- 
 cative of the strong relief which that assurance 
 had conveyed to her. 
 
 " But tell me, dear mother," ejaculated Charles, 
 " what all this means. Surely that woman has 
 no reason for threatening or extorting " 
 
 *' No, no, my dear boy !" interrupted Mrs. De 
 Vere; "what reason could she possibly have? 
 But misery has rendered her desperate — she 
 epoke of suicide— in short, I know not what " 
 
 " Ah, now I understand I" cried Charles, fancy- 
 ing that he had obtained a complete reading of 
 that which a moment before was a painful and 
 bewildering mystery. " She threatened you in 
 that sense— it is not an uncommon mode of pro- 
 cedure with such persons — and you yielded to the 
 species of extortion ! Tou did right to say that 
 your mind was made up, and that you were re- 
 lieving her for the last time ! Should she repeat 
 her visit, I should advise you not to see her." 
 
 "No— I will not again see her," answered Mrs. 
 De Vere. "But what brings you home so soon 
 to day ?" 
 
 " The senior of my office gave me a holiday," 
 responded Charles : " and I thought that you 
 might probably like to take a walk on this beauti- 
 ful afternoon." 
 
 Mrs. De Vere agreed to the proposition : and 
 they went out together. They remained absent 
 for about a couple of hours ; and on their return 
 te Belmont Cottage, Margaret, the parlour-maid, 
 said to Charles, " If you please, sir, a gentleman 
 has just been to call upon you : he has left his card 
 — and he says that if you will favour him with a 
 visit in the course of the evening he shall be at 
 home to receive you." 
 
 It instantaneously struck young De Vere that 
 the call of this gentleman was connected with the 
 incident that had occurred in the grounds of 
 Sidney Villa ; for the card which Margaret placed 
 in his hand, bore a name with which be was 
 utterly unacquainted. Charles however exercised 
 the completest mastery over his feelings and his 
 countenance ; and assuming a careless tone, he 
 said, "Ah, Captain Fitzherbert ! I recollect!— 
 I was introduced to him the other day by one of 
 my brother-clerks." 
 
 " But what can he possibly want with you, 
 Charles ?" asked Mrs. De Vere, as she and her son 
 entered the parlour together, and the housemaid 
 retired. " I hope it is not to engage you at any 
 party of young men whose means are perhaps 
 
 much greater than your's Besides, Charles, 
 
 you must not accept hospitalities without return- 
 
 ing them— and you know that I cannot roceivo 
 company at the Cottage." 
 
 "Oh, no, my dear mother!" he exclaimed : '• I 
 am sure it is for no purpose of that kind ; because 
 I am not intimate enough with this Captain Fiti- 
 herbert to be invited as bis friend. In short, I 
 do not know what he can possibly want with me 
 — unless it be to procure some information which 
 the papers in my office may be enabled to afford." 
 
 " Ah !" said Mrs. De Vere, her countenance 
 brightening up, because not for an instant could 
 she suppose that her son was deceiving her : " it 
 is doubtless as you have just surmised." 
 
 " I will call upon Captain Fitzherbert after 
 dinner," said Charles, 
 
 It pained the young man more than we can de- 
 scribe to play this part of duplicity towards his 
 mother : but there was really no help for it. Thai 
 he was to be challenged to a duel seemed only too 
 evident. He must accept that cartel for his 
 honour's sake : but if he were to drop the slightest 
 hint thereof to Mrs. De Vere, he knew that in the 
 frenzy of her alarm she would be certain to adopt 
 measures to prevent it. It cost him no mean 
 effort to continue in the maintenance of a complete 
 mastery over his countenance, so as to prevent the 
 betrayal of his feelings throughout dinner-time; 
 and it was with equal difficulty that he could force 
 himself to partake of the repast. Not that young 
 De Vere was a coward:— very far from it! He 
 possessed the highest spirit and the most chivalric 
 courage : but still he could not blind himself to 
 the fact that bis life was to be imperilled— and if 
 it were lost, good heavens ! what would be the 
 anguish of his poor mother ? It was for her there- 
 fore that his inward feelings were racking him; 
 and when he gazed upon her countenance— when 
 he met the regards of fondest maternal aCfeotioD 
 that were from time to time bent upon him — 
 his soul was smitten with the sensation as if of a 
 death-like sickness. Nevertheless by a series of 
 almost preterhuman efforts he continued so to bear 
 himself as to prevent Mrs. De Vere from enter- 
 taining any suspicion that his mind was thus 
 troubled. 
 
 It was a little after six o'clock when Charles De 
 Vere, rising from the table, bade his mother a 
 temporary farewell, and issued from the house to 
 call upon Captain Fitzherbert, whose address, as 
 indicated by his card, was in Jermyn Street, St. 
 James's. As Charles passed by Sidney ''''ilia, his 
 spirits were cheered, while apostrophising the 
 image of one of its beautiful inmates, he inwardly 
 ejaculated, " Ah, Agnes ! it is for your sake that 
 my life is to be endangered !" 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IHE DUEL. 
 
 On reaching Jermyn street, Charles De Vere found 
 that Captain Fitzherbert only inhabited lodgings 
 over a perfumer's shop ; and he therefore con- 
 cluded that this personage was an unmarried man. 
 The private door was opened by a young page in 
 a handsome livery : and the moment Charles an- 
 nounced his name, the youthful domestic con- 
 ducted him upstairs to a handsomely furnished
 
 AGKES; OB, BBACIT AHB PISASUEE. 
 
 S7 
 
 your own likewise. In short, the affair is an un- 
 fortunate one ; and as the world generally glres its 
 own colouring to tales of this description, if they 
 transpire, it were infinitely better that silence 
 should be altogether observed in the matter." 
 
 Charles, having cordially expressed bis approval 
 of the resolution thus arrived at, took his depar> 
 ture. He had bethought himself of a gentleman 
 named Summers, who was in the same Office with 
 himself — and with whom, of all his brother-clerks, 
 he was most intimate. Mr. Summers was a single 
 man, some three or four years older than De 
 
 •partment, where a gentleman was seated alone at 
 his dessert. 
 
 This was Captain Fitzherbert. He was a short, 
 thin, red- haired man— about thirty years of age : 
 ho was dressed fashionably, but with perfect good 
 taste ; and he rose with a kind of reserved courtesy 
 to receive hi." visitor. 
 j " Pray be seated, Mr. De Vere," said Captain 
 Fitzherbert, indicating a chair. "You have per- 
 haps already surmised for what purpose I called 
 at your house. I did not of course leave any ex- 
 planatory message with the domestic ; and I am 
 
 glad that you have come this evening, as all the I Vere ; and the latter had happened to recollect 
 arrangements can be made for a meeting to- j that the other was once engaged in an affair simi- 
 morrow morning. In a word, Mr. De Vere, the lar to that in which he himself was now involved. 
 Hon. Mr. Hardress has honoured me by naming ' Mr. Summers resided in the neighbourhood of 
 me as his friend on the occasion." j Soho, at no very great distance from Jermyn 
 
 "Perhaps, Captain Fitzherbert," said our young Street; and thither Charles repaired. He found 
 hero, "you will be good enough to instruct me in his friend at his lodgings : he told him everything 
 the course which I have to pursue ; for this is the ■ that had occurred— but likewise taking care to 
 first affair of the kind in which I have ever been mention the agreement which had been settled in 
 concerned — and I am completely ignorant of the respect to the total suppression of Miss Evelyn's 
 usual mode of proceeding." name in connexion with the cause of the quarrel. 
 
 " Mr. De Vere," answered Captain Fitzherbert, Mr. Summers— though with considerable reluc- 
 " I learn from my principal that you have griev- I tance, on account of his friend's youth— at length 
 
 ously insulted him pray do not interrupt me, consented to act on his behalf; and certain pre- 
 
 sir !— it is not the duty of a second to discuss the liminaries having been agreed upon, so as to pre- 
 merits of a case like this ; it is suiEcient for me to vent the necessity of any farther communication 
 know that the Hon. Mr. Hardress considers him- I that evening between the two, our young hero 
 self to be sorely aggrieved— and the alternatives ' took his departure. 
 
 for you to decide between are an ample written [ It was past nine o'clock when he reached Bel- 
 apology or a hostile meeting." j mont Cottage ; and again was he compelled to 
 
 " An apology, Captain Fitzherbert," replied , exercise a powerful control over himself when re- 
 Charles, " is impossible ; because that would be appearing in the presence ot his mother. Painful 
 expressive of a sense of wrong-doing on my part : as it was to him, he was still necessitated to con. 
 
 whereas " tinue in the course of duplicity on which he had 
 
 " Enough, Mr- De Vere !" interrupted the , already entered ; and he assured Mrs- De Vere 
 
 ofiicer : " explanations are needless. It is sufll- that his surmise was correct, and that Captain 
 
 cient that you decline to apologize. You have | Fitzherbert had the most particular need for some 
 
 now therefore to name'some friend whom you can ' information which certain papers in the Office to 
 
 put in immediate communication with me ; and ! which Charles belonged could alone afford. Mrs. 
 
 we will make every arrangement for the meeting ; De Vere was satisfied- though she thought it sin. 
 
 ' at an early hour to-morrow morning. By the bye, I gular that Captain Fitzherbert should have given 
 
 I there are convenient places in the neighbourhood j her son so much trouble when seeking a favour 
 
 I of your own residence; and if your second shall for himself: but still this idea on her part did not 
 
 prove agreeable, we will select one of them. You even amount to a misgiving— still less to a sus. 
 
 will have the less distance to proceed ; and this i picion that there was anything wrong. 
 
 will avoid the necessity of your leaving the house Charles retired to his chamber— having as usual 
 
 at an hour so early as to excite the suspicions of embraced his mother ; and there was the sickening 
 
 Mrs. De Vere." thought in his mind that perhaps it was for the 
 
 really know not any friend," exclaimed last time he had thus imprinted a kiss upon her 
 
 . Charles, " to whom I can address myself for t,,.^^ 
 ' a purpose." 
 
 "Surely, Mr. De Vere," rejoined Fitzherbert, 
 " there must be some gentleman in your 
 Office " 
 
 " Yes — I know one !" ejaculated Charles. 
 " But suppose that any disagreeable consequences 
 were to ensue— would it not be better that the 
 name of the young lady herself should be spared 
 the annoyance of publicity ?" 
 
 " The very thing, Mr. De Vere, which I was 
 about to propose to you !" interjected Captain 
 Fitzherbert. " In case of either yourself or Mr. 
 Hardress being wounded — or anything worse — the 
 rest may be compelled to fly to the Continent for 
 a time ; and as we only could tell the tale, there 
 may be a solemn agreement amongst us to remain 
 silent upon the subject. This is the desire of Mr. 
 Uardress ; and I am glad to perceive that it is 
 
 cheek ! Indeed when alone in his apartment, he 
 could scarcely keep back his tears, as he reflected 
 that within a few hours he might possibly be lying 
 maimed or wounded, or even a stark corpse, in 
 that very bed which he was now about to seek. 
 We should however observe that ihere was one point 
 on which he was spared all anxiety. This was in 
 respect to the pecuniary position of his mother : 
 for as she had an income of her own, of about two 
 hundred pounds a year, the loss of his salary, in 
 case the worst should happen, would not plunge 
 her into poverty. 
 
 Before he retired to rest, he wrote two letters- 
 one addressed to his mother, the other to Miss 
 Evelyn. In the former he conjured his parent to 
 forgive him for the duplicity which he had prac. 
 tised towards her, and which only had arisen from 
 the necessity of adopting every precaution to pre- 
 vent an interference in respect to the pending
 
 BEAriT A5D PLEA3CKB. 
 
 duel, which would cast suspicion upon his courage 
 tnd tarnieb his honour. In the other letter be 
 delicately avowed bis love to Agnes,— declaring 
 that when at the last moment be should stand in 
 the presence of his enemy, her name would be 
 coupled with that of bis mother in the prayer 
 that he should be breathing to heaven ; and be 
 likewise besought that she would now and then 
 devote a thought to the memory of one who bad 
 loved her with so much silent, untold devotion. 
 Having finished these letters, Charles felt easier in ' 
 bis mind : it seemed as if all earthly duties were ' 
 now performed, and that naught remained but to | 
 abide the issue of the coming encounter. He re* 
 tired to bis bed, and slept serenely until five ' 
 o'clock in the morning. 
 
 He now rose and dressed himself noiselessly ; and 
 carrying his boots in his band — so that he might 
 glide down the staircase with the stealthiness of a 
 ghost — he issued from bis chamber. Opposite to 
 bis own door, was that of his mother's room ; and 
 the young man could scarcely repress a suffocating 
 sob as be thought perhaps he was doomed never 
 again to behold that affectionate parent. Was 
 she sleeping, dreamless even of a suspicion of the 
 peril ttiat awaited her son ? — or was she awake, 
 and fancying that he sfiU slept ? Charles could 
 not help askiog himself these questions; and for a 
 raoraent they nearly unmanned him. But be 
 exerted his strength of mind ; and stealing down 
 the staircase, gained the passage. There be drew 
 OD bis boots ; and noiselessly let himself out of the 
 house. 
 
 It was only halfpast five : he had a walk of 
 about twenty minutes before him : and the ap- 
 pointment was for six o'clock. He was therefore 
 in plenty of time ; and he was the first to reach 
 the ground— the particular place having been 
 arranged between himself and Mr. Summers on 
 the preceding evening. In a few minutes Sum- 
 mers himselt appeared ; and to this gentleman's 
 charge did De Vere consign the two letters which 
 be bad written— but which, as a matter of course, 
 were only to be delivered in case that their writer 
 should fall in the duel. 
 
 ■We will now return to Belmont Cottage. Sirs. 
 De Vere was indeed sleeping at the moment when 
 ber son was passing her chamber door to go forth 
 to the hostile encounter. She had been for many 
 hours awake during all the early part of the night, 
 — her mind troubled with the image of that old 
 harridan who seemed determined to haunt her. 
 Mrs. De Vere had at length faUen into a slumber 
 wbicU was rendered all the more profound by 
 mental exhaustion ; and she slept until about 
 halfpast six o'clock. Then she rose— for it was 
 her habit to rise early, in order to have breakfast 
 punctually at iiall-past eight, so that Charles 
 should be eniiblea to leave the house at nine, and 
 thus allow bimstll an hour to walk to the Home 
 Office, where his duties commenced at ten. 
 
 When Margaret was summoned, as usual, to 
 assist at ber mistress's toilet, she intimated that 
 Mr. De Vere must have gone out for a walk ; for 
 bis chamber door was ajar, and the front door was 
 unlocked. Charles was seldom in the habit of walk- 
 ing out before breakfast, lor the simple reason 
 that he had the prospect of so long a walk after- 
 wards : but even when be did stroll forth ere the 
 .1 was served up, it was never at so 
 
 early an hour as half-past six. Mrs. De Vera 
 now entertained some little misgiving : then she 
 thought of that visit from Captain Fitzherbcrt, 
 and of ber son's absence for more than three hours 
 in the evening. It struck her likewise that there 
 bad been something peculiar in his manner at 
 dinnertime and after bis return from his visit to 
 Captain Fitjherbcrt. She recalled several little 
 peculiarities of look and abstractions which had 
 not made any particular impression on her at the 
 time, but all of which now came trooping rapidly 
 in upon her recollection. The longer she reflected, 
 the more alarmed she grew : there was the idea of 
 a duel vaguely Boating in ber mind ; but she could 
 not settle herself to the belief that Charles had 
 by any possibility become involved in such a 
 peril. 
 
 With increasing uneasiness Mrs. De Vere ra- 
 pidly performel her toilet; and she descended 
 from her chamber to look forth anxiously from the 
 front door in the hope of beholding her son. It 
 was now only seven o'clock ; and she thought to 
 herself that if he bad indeed gone merely for a 
 ramble, he might not return until breakfast-time, 
 which was half-past eight ; and thus she would be 
 compelled to endure the growing horror of this 
 suspense for a mortal hour and a half. In a few 
 minutes he made bis appearance : he was hurrying 
 along, unconscious that bis mother was at the cot- 
 tage door awaiting him. There was confusion in 
 his brain— ghastliness in his looks ; while bis step 
 was uneven as if he were intoxicated. Mrs. De 
 Vere bounded forward to the gate, with a half- 
 stifled cry of alarm upon ber lips ; and the sound 
 reaching the ears of her son, instantaneously re- 
 called bim to a sense of bis position. Then was 
 it that with the exertion of a preterhuman effort 
 be suddenly became calm and collected in his 
 manner and bearing ; though an ashy whiteness, 
 as if of lingering terror or horror, remained upon 
 his countenance. Mrs. De Vere dared not ask him 
 a question : his presence had to a certain extent 
 relieved her from the suspense she had been endur- 
 ing; and as she now beheld two or three labourers 
 approaching on the way to their work, she passed 
 into the house, Charles following her. 
 
 " Tou look annoyed, my dear mother," be said, 
 affecting his wonted light-hearted cheerfulness and 
 youthful gaiety. "Perhaps you were surprised 
 that I went out earlier than usual ? But the 
 morning was so beautiful— the air was so fresh — 
 and the birds were singing so sweetly, as if uncon- 
 scions that the band of Autumn bad tinged the 
 leaves of the trees " 
 
 "Charles, my dear boy!" ejaculated Mrs. De 
 Vere, who, having closed the parlour door, now 
 advanced up to him, fixing ber eyes half reproach- 
 fully, half anxiously upon his countJnance; "for 
 heaven's sake cease these duplicities- and be my 
 own candid, frank-speaking, ingenuous son once 
 again ! What have yon been doing ?" 
 
 " I, mother ?"— and the young man endeavoured 
 to send forth that light laugh of merry joyousness, 
 which, when he was really gay and cheerful, was 
 wont to ring in masculine melody &om his lips: 
 " merely enjoying the loveliness of the morn- 
 ing " 
 
 " Charles, it is false !" interrupted Mrs. D? 
 Vere, with an excitement and a vehemence which 
 surprised and startled the young man. " Xoa
 
 A»KE3; OB, EEiUTT 
 
 FLEASUBE. 
 
 must not continue to practise this deceitfulncas. 
 Good heavens.! how could you have become so 
 changed ? Ihere was a time until very recently 
 when every syllable you spoke carried the contic- 
 tion of truth ! But tell mc, Charles,— drive me 
 not mad!— tell me what you bave been doing?" 
 
 " My dear mother, compose yourself ! Why- 
 why," faltered the young man, — " why do 
 you " 
 
 " Why do I excite myself thus ?" ejaculated 
 Mrs. De Vere. " It is you yourself that are goad- 
 ing me in this manner ! O, Charles ! I have en- 
 dured the most frightful suspense " 
 
 " My poor mother !" — and the youth, bursting 
 into tears, strained her to his breast, embracing 
 her with even a vehemence — or we might say 
 a violence of fervid feeling. '* And you have suf- 
 fered on my account— and all because I absented 
 
 " No, Charles !" exclaimed Mrs. De Vere, sud 
 deniy disengaging herself from the warmth of that 
 filial embrace to all the sweet luxury of which she 
 had for a moment yielded : " it was not simply 
 because you absented yourself— but because there 
 was something sinister and suspicious in that ab 
 eence ! Why came Captain Fitzherbert hither ? 
 — why the mystery of his visit ? What could he 
 want with you ? Confess the truth, Charl 
 
 Tou have — you have Oh ! I shudder to give 
 
 utterance to the words!" 
 
 " Mother, tranquillize yourself, I entreat !" he 
 exclaimed, now terribly agitated. 
 
 " Charles !" she said, as if in a voice of solemn 
 adjuration, " you have been fighting a duel !" 
 
 The young man started back in" such a way 
 that the very movement itself, even more than the 
 ghastly look which accompanied it, sent an instan- 
 taneous conviction of the truth of her surmise 
 flashing in unto the brain of his mother. 
 
 " Ah, I thought so !" she wildly cried. " My 
 God, that you should have risked your life!— that 
 life on which my own depends ! O Charles, you 
 know not how dear you are to me ! But, Ah !" 
 she literally shrieked forth. ** what is this upon 
 your sleeve ! Blood ! Just heavens, 'tis blood !" 
 
 "Not my own, mother!" exclaimed her fear- 
 fully excited son : " nor am I a murderer— for my 
 opponent in the duel is but slightly wounded ! 
 Yet, Oh! the wild horror of my feelings when I 
 saw that he was wounded— but knowing not 
 where, fancied that it might be mortal! Oh, 
 mother!" he said, "if you knew the anguish I 
 hare endured, you would consider it sufficient 
 punishment for any duplicity on my part towards 
 yourself !— you would not upbraid and reproach 
 
 These words were uttered in accents of such 
 earnest appeal— in tones so plaintively toucSihg- 
 that Mrs. De Vere's heart melted towards her 
 son ; and with the tears trickling from her eyes, 
 •he caught him in her arms. 
 
 "No, my poor boy!" she murmured: "I will 
 not reproach you any more. I feel convinced that 
 you must have suffered deeply 1 Yes- and I am 
 likewise confident that there must have been some 
 
 " It was so, my dear mother. Listen !" ex- 
 claimed Charles. " I was returning home yester- 
 day, when I beheld a gentleman — a gentleman, 
 
 as he is at least by birth and name — grossly 
 insulting a young lady. What could I do i" I 
 did that which any man of even the most ordinary 
 spirit would have done : I levelled him to the 
 earth. Ah, my dear mother !— suppose that you 
 bad a daughter who had been placed in the posi- 
 tion of that young lady, you would have been un- 
 able to find language sutficient to express your 
 gratitude towards him who might have avenged 
 her insulted innocence ! Nay, more— you would 
 have admired him for hia conduct I WeU, mother, 
 no more than this have I doue : it was a duty — 
 and I performed it. I did not lell you on my 
 return home what had happened; I spared your 
 feelings, for I had my suspicion of what would bo 
 the consequences ; and I was determined to meet 
 them boldly. I have done so. 1 myself am un- 
 hurt : yet heaven forbid that I should ever again 
 bo hurried through such an ordeal ! I take God 
 to witness that I studied to fire wide of my anta- 
 gonist : and yet I hit him ! He is wounded in 
 the arm— but only slightly— so slightly indeed 
 that the surgeon who was present declares he will 
 
 " But the penalties for this duel, my dear boy ?" 
 said Mrs. De Vere, who at one time was weeping 
 with anguish, and at another gazing up at him 
 with a mother's true pride and admiration: " the 
 consequences " 
 
 " There is nothing to fear," he answered. 
 " Not a soul will whisper a syllable in respect to 
 this duel. It was agreed beforehand that naught 
 should be said ; and as the result is so compara- 
 tively trivial, it is all the more easy for that agree- 
 ment to be adhered to. My antagonist will keep 
 his room for a few days : a fall from his horse, or 
 some other pretext, will be the alleged cause ; and 
 all will be over." 
 
 " Heaven be thanked that it is no worse 1" 
 murmured Mrs. De Vere with a sensation of in- 
 describable relief. " Oh, my dear boy ! how can I 
 possibly blame you ? You have put the case in 
 language as nobly eloquent as your own couiiuct 
 was admirable, and as your courage has been chi- 
 valrous. But tell me, Charles- this antagonist of 
 your's- who was he ?" 
 
 " His name, my dear mother, is far from un- 
 familiar to your ears— and this is the most dis- 
 tressing part of the transaction ! Of all men he 
 is almost the last with whom I would have wil- 
 lingly or wilfully sought a quarrel— inasmuch as I 
 am indebted to his father's influeoce " 
 
 " Charles !" cried Mrs. De Vere, with another 
 half'Stified shriek, and with a look which seemed 
 to have horror in it : " what mean you ? Un- 
 happy boy ! is it possible " 
 
 "Mother!" exclaimed our young hero, speak- 
 ing passionately, " you will drive me mad with 
 these reiterated reproaches ! I tell you that it 
 was not my fault ; and I ought scarcely to blame 
 myself even it I had ere now laid Hector Hard- 
 ress dead upon the ground 1" 
 
 " Ob, my God ! my God!" murmured Mrs. De 
 Vere, clasping her hands in indescribable anguish 
 as sbo sauk upon a seat : " to think that this blood" 
 —uu\ she pointed to her son's coat-sleeve— " should 
 
 An idea of some horrible mystery, yet vague 
 and bewildering, smote the mind of the young 
 man J and he eiclai:c>d, "Good heavens, mother!
 
 AGyEa; OE, BBATTTT AITD PLKASCBB. 
 
 you look and speak as if 1 had perpetrated some 
 appalling crime ! There is not even ingratitude 
 in the deed : for I sought it not— it was forced 
 upon me. Tell me what is passing in jour 
 thoughts ?" 
 
 "Nothing, Charles— nothing more than what 
 you can too well fancj," responded his afflicted 
 mother. " lly ideas are all in confusion ! But 
 tell me, are you convinced — positively convinc 
 that Hardress will not speak of this — not even to 
 his father— not even to his own ueareat and dear- 
 est relatives?" 
 
 " I am convinced he will not !" replied De Vera. 
 " He proclaimed as much just no*, when in an 
 agony of grief I sustained him in my arms. No 
 — he will not ! Tranquillize yourself therefore, 
 my dear mother ! Lord Mendlesham will never 
 Jeam that he for whom his kind interest provided, 
 has confronted his son in the deadly duel. Besides, 
 Hector Hardress would not for his own credit's 
 •ake have the incident published abroad : for it 
 would redound little to his honour that he was 
 thus chastised for an insult to a young lady. If 
 the fear of my being charged with black ingrati- 
 tude be all that is now in your mind " 
 
 " It it all, my dear boy !" answered Mrs. De 
 Vere, still hurriedly and excitedly : " it is indeed 
 all ! And, Oh ! instead of repining thus, and seem- 
 ing to reproach you, I ought to go down upon 
 my knees and thank God that yoa are restored 
 to me uninjored !" 
 
 The mother and son now once more embraced 
 each other ; and for the present we will leave 
 them, in order to direct the attention of our 
 readers to the next scene which marks the course 
 
 It was a few hours later on that same day — in- 
 deed, to be more particular in respect to time, it 
 was between two and three o'clock in the after- 
 noon, that Floribel Lister was receiving visitors in 
 the garden of Sidney Villa. The young lady was 
 seated on a sofa in the shade of an arbour which 
 had been fitt«d ap under her own auspices, and in 
 the immediate neighboorhood of which the had 
 caused to be placed a beautiful statuary group re- 
 presenting Yenus and Cupid. When we beheld 
 Agnes contemplating the effigy of Diana, we sug- 
 gested an allegorical fancy : — we asked whether 
 there were nothing typical in the inanimate statue 
 itself, relative to the lovely maiden who at the 
 time was surveying it P May we not now offer a 
 kindred suggestion in reference to Floribel ?— may 
 we not ask whether the vioinage of the Goddess of 
 Pleasure was not typical of the luxuriant appear- 
 ance of. that beautiful girl who was now seated 
 upon the sofa in the well-appointed arbour ? 
 
 Floribel was elegantly dressed. Her raven hair 
 fell in massive tresses upon her bare shoulders of 
 sculptural beauty, and upon the bosom which the 
 low corsage almost half exposed. The scarf which 
 she had at first thrown on to cover those nude 
 shoulders and that voluptuous exposure of the 
 bust, had fallen as if quite by accident— though in 
 reality there was the studied refinement of a 
 coquettish art in its intentional removal. It now 
 lay in graceful negligence upon her arm, as if she 
 vere utterly unconscious that it had quitted its 
 proper resting-place. Tet it was really through 
 no improper wish to display her charms that she 
 bad done this: the act itself might seem some- 
 
 but the intention was so far 
 bsolutely pure, that it was merely 
 
 I what 
 Tenia), if 
 
 a giddy inconsiderate coquetry. It assorted 
 I what too with that half-air of languor which was 
 I constitutional with Floribel, and which, if a scarf 
 I got displaced or a book fell, rendered her too 
 I indolent to readjust the former or to pick up 
 J the latter. 
 
 She was in company with three young gentle- 
 men, who had all happened to call at the same 
 time ; and as she had told Bachel that she would 
 receive any visitors in the arbour— to which she 
 was about to retire with her book, after the per- 
 formance of her toilet— they were shown thither 
 accordingly. The last-comer was a handsome, 
 dark-haired person, about three and twenty— with 
 somewhat luxuriant whiskers carefully curled, and 
 with a Grecian profile. Scarcely had he paid his 
 respects to Miss Lister, and nodded familiarly to 
 the other two gentlemen — with whom he was in- 
 timate—than the Hon. Mr. Clifford (for such was 
 his name) assumed an air of mysterious confidence, 
 evidently having some piece of Intelligence to im- 
 
 " I'll be bound," said the youngest of the three 
 gentlemen, who had been leaning over the back of 
 the sofa on which Floribel was seated, and who 
 had a slight moustache, brown hair, and a foolish 
 insipid look,—" I'll be bound that our friend Clif- 
 ford has some grand secret 'to tell us." . 
 
 " A secret, my dear Lowden," replied Mr. Clif- 
 ford, " that you would like very much to know ; 
 for of all the scandalous gossiping fellows I ever 
 met with, you are the very worst." 
 
 This retort created a laugh, in which no one 
 more cordially joined than the silly object of it 
 himself, 
 
 " Well, what is this secret of yours, Clifford ?" 
 asked the third gentleman— or rather nobleman, 
 for he bore the title of Viscount Mervyn ; and aa 
 he sat in a chair just in front of Floribel, the 
 sunbeams gave a reddish hue to his hair, his 
 whiskers, and his moustache, which were all 
 naturally light in colour. 
 
 " I must premise," said Mr. Clifford, " that it 
 is indeed a very great secret ; and you must all 
 faithfully promise that you will not breathe a 
 syllable of it elsewhere." 
 
 " Oh ! we will all promise," said Floribel, 
 laughing with a languishing sweetness ; " though 
 I dare say it is only some piece of tittle-tattle 
 which you, Mr. Clifford, have picked up in the 
 course of your morning calls." 
 
 " I can assure you. Miss Lister," answered the 
 gentleman thus addressed, " it is no silly gossip : 
 it is a sterling and substantial fact. It was whis- 
 pered to me by a friend of mine— a surgeon whom 
 I will-^t name— whose services were enlisted in 
 the case, and which services were to some little 
 extent required. Now really there must be no 
 repeating the information I am giving you ; be- 
 cause this friend of mine, the surgeon, would 
 not for the world have it suspected that he was 
 the author " 
 
 "Tou are talking of a duel, I declare!" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Lowden, at the top of a cracked 
 voice, and at the same time caressing his incipient 
 moustache. 
 
 " Positively a duel !" said Lord Mervyn, fasti- 
 diously playing with the point of hii own far mora
 
 AGNES: OH. BEAt'TT AND PLEA 
 
 ^^-v' -3 1 
 
 CICELr NEALE. 
 
 luxuriant moustaclie. "On my soul! This is re- 
 markable— very remarkable— positively !" 
 
 "4,.i"''',''°l' nothing else," rejoined the Hon. 
 
 Sir. Clifford, whose handso 
 
 1 countenance 
 
 emedreally too intelliuLUt to belou"' to 
 was thus enacting the part of a pe^ty scandal- 
 monger. And who do you think were the prin. 
 cipals ? We all kuow them both— one very inti- 
 mately—the other as a casual acquaintance whom 
 we have had the honour of meeting at Sydney 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Floribel, now smitten 
 with a suspicion; for her cousin had told her 
 on the previous day of the conduct of Hector 
 Hardress and of the gallant interference of Charles 
 De Vere. 
 
 "Yes," continued Mr. Clifford, " they are two 
 — " "'■ '" but what was the precise 
 
 cause of the duel I am unable to say, for my i 
 friend the surgeon hims.lf was not let into the 
 secret. There wa-i, however, a lady in the case • 
 Ah, Miss Lister ! how many lives have b^en eh- 
 dangered at different times, in various countries ' 
 and in all ages, on account of your sex '" ' ' 
 
 "And whose fault is it ?' ' asked Floribel,-sneak- 
 ing more gravely than usual : for we have already 
 said that she was good-hearted, and she knew that 
 her cousm Agnes would be distressed on hearing 
 that a hostile meeting had taken place on her ac- 
 count. 
 
 •• It is your fanlt—the fault of all your sex " re 
 plied Mr Clifford, with a tender look ; " for being 
 beautiful— and captivating— and bewitching " 
 
 • But tell us," exclaimed Mr. Lowden, " who 
 were the principals in this affair f I am dvin? 
 with curiousity " *
 
 ■12 
 
 AaXES; OR, BEACTT AlTD PIBASCBR. 
 
 " Ti'S— djing with curiosity— positiTcly !" in- 
 terjeited Lord' ilervyn, 
 
 " Well, I will not keep you in suspense," re- 
 sumed Clifford. " The principals were our Iriend 
 Hardress and young Do Yere." 
 
 Ejaculations of astooisbment burst from the lips 
 of Clifford's auditors— astonishment that was un- 
 feigned on the part of Lowden and Lord Merryn, 
 but which was afTected on that of Floribel. ilr. 
 ClifTord proceeded to describe that Hardress was 
 slightly wounded — but that the whole affair was 
 enreloped in much mystery and had been hushed 
 up with all possible precaution. He therefore 
 again begged his listeners to regard the matter in 
 the light of an inviolable secret ; and they faith- 
 fully promised that they would do ao. Presently 
 the young men took their leave of Fioribcl,— who 
 then anxiously awaited the return of Agnes ; for 
 Miss Evelyn had gone to call upon the Tim- 
 perlejs. 
 
 When Agnes came back, she learnt from her 
 cousin as much of the particulars in respect to the 
 duel as that young lady was enabled to communi- 
 I oate. Agues was deeply afflicted that the lives of 
 two human beings should have been perilled on 
 her account; but on the other hand there was a 
 material solace in the n-Uection that the conse- 
 quences had been so slight. She experienced a 
 warmer admiration for Charles De Vere's conduct 
 than she had ever felt before ; and no doubt there 
 was the thought in her mind that since it was 
 fated for one of the combatants to be wounded in 
 the encounter, it was at least a source of satis- 
 faction to know that it was not he in whom she 
 was naturally most interested. 
 ' Scarcely had Agnes partially recovered from the 
 Bgilation into which the intelligence had thrown 
 ■ her— and to dispel which she had left Floribel in 
 ! order that she might roam by herself in the gar- 
 I den— when she perceived Charles De Tere entering 
 I at the gate. The young man hastened towards 
 I her, little suspecting that she had learnt the secret 
 
 iof the duel: but he was at once struck by the ex- 
 pression of her countenance. Those beautiful fea- 
 ! tures were a faithful reflex of the sentiments that 
 [ were stirring in her soul : they denoted gratitude, 
 i admiration, and sorrow, all commingled. 
 
 *' Mr« De Vere," she said, in a low deep voice 
 that was full of emotion, as she proffered her 
 j hand, " I know everything ; and you have perilled 
 your life on my account !" 
 
 " And can you pardon me," he exclaimed, " for 
 having violated the species of promise that I gave 
 you, Jliss Evelyn ? But, Oh ! I can assure you 
 that it was not I who provoked the duel ! I 
 WHS challenged — and 1 was bound to accept the 
 cartel !" 
 
 '• It is rather for me," replied Agnes, still 
 speaking with much emotion, " to implore your 
 forgiveness that I, however unwillingly, should 
 
 have been the cause " 
 
 I " Ob, speak not thus !" cried Charles : and then 
 i he checked himself, for he was about to give utter- 
 ance to the enthusiastic language of love— and he 
 1 was again withheld by the idea that it would not 
 j be generous to avail himself of the species of claim 
 which circumstances had given him upon the 
 ' beautiful Miss Evelyn. 
 
 They walked together for some time,— Charles 
 aflording such an account of the duel as he 
 
 thought proper to give, without entering inta 
 those details in respect to his mother which would 
 only have rendered the narrative all the more 
 painful for Agnes to listen to : and then ha 
 bethought himself of asking, " But how could you 
 possibly have learnt the secret?- for we agreed 
 amongst ourselves to keep it inviolate '." 
 
 "My cousin learnt it," replied Agnes; " but I 
 am not at liberty to tell you how, Mr, De Vere — 
 and I pray that you will not press me upon tho 
 point. I do not think that the tale will be re- 
 peated elsewhere ; and if it should be, most sin- 
 cerely do I hope that it will not act to your pre. 
 
 Again Charles was on the point of enthusiasti- 
 cally proclaiming that he cared not what might 
 happen so long as it was for the sake of Agnes 
 that he suffered ; and again too he checked him- 
 self, giving some response that was couched in 
 terms of mitigated fervour. When they separated, 
 he was if possible more enamoured than ever of 
 the beauty, the amiability, the modesty, and the 
 generous disposition of Miss Evelyn; while she, 
 on her part, reflected with a deeper feeling than, 
 she had before known upon the handsome counte- 
 nance as well as the noble character of Charles D© 
 Vere. 
 
 CHAPTEB IX. 
 
 CICELY IfEALB. 
 
 The reader will not have forgotten that tho offices 
 of Mr. Waklron, the deceased grandfather of 
 Floribel and Agnes, were situated in Lincoln's Inn 
 Fields. Those offices still served the purposes of 
 a legal practitioner : but instead of the name of 
 Waldron appearing in the passage just inside the 
 front-door, that of Timperley was engraven on a 
 brass plate fixed upon the door itself. The hoas» 
 was no longer let out in a series of offices : it wai 
 wholly in the tenancy of Mr. Timperley, who re- 
 sided there with his wife and a numerous establish- 
 ment of domestics. 
 
 After the suicide of Waldron — between Beven- 
 teen and eighteen years anterior to the date which 
 our story has reached — Mr. Timperley was left to 
 wind up whatsoever legal business his deceased 
 master had left unfinished,- it being supposed that 
 this duty would simply consist in assorting all the 
 various documents for their respective owners, as 
 a preliminary to their being handed over to other 
 solicitors. But in a short time the name of Tim- 
 perley was substituted for that of Waldron on the 
 wall of the passage ; and it likewise figured with 
 due professioual qualification in the " Law List." 
 Waldrou's successor, moreover, managed to retain 
 several of his late employer's best clients; and 
 thus for awhile he went on, with a gradually in- 
 creasing practice, much to the surprise of many 
 who had fancied that Mr. Timperley could not 
 possibly have been worth a shilling, much less 
 have been enabled to command the several hun- 
 dred pounds requisite to take out an attorney's 
 certificate and carry on such a business. As years 
 went by, the number of Mr. Timperley's clients 
 augmented : he assumed the appearance of a well- 
 to-do practitioner; and from this phase he gra-
 
 AOITES ; OB, BEAUTY ASD PLBASUEE. 
 
 iliently passed into that of a wealthy one. It 
 iuited either his purpose or his inclination— per. 
 baps both— that his offices should be beneath the 
 same roof as his own residence : he therefore in 
 due time became the tenant of the entire house in 
 Lincoln's Inn Fields,— the ground-floor being set 
 apart for business-uses, and all the upper storeys 
 being sumptuously furnished for the private dwell- 
 ing. Then was it that the brass-plate appeared 
 upon the front-door, to announce that the mansion 
 iras in the entire occupancy of Mr. Timperley. 
 
 When we now again introduce Mr. Timperley 
 t'l our readers, we find him to be a man about 
 tixty-five years of age — with the same sharp, 
 shrewd, business>like expression of countenance as 
 heretofore — but yet with a certain blandncss 
 veiling as it were the sinister portion of that ex- 
 pression. The consciousness of wealth, the satis- 
 faction which he felt at having rebuilt in his old 
 age those fortunes which in his youth he had by 
 improvidence hurled down, the re-enjoyment of all 
 comforts and luxuries, and the experience of that 
 homage which in this country is ever paid to 
 riches, no matter by whom possessed, naturally 
 effected that partial change in Mr. Timperley's 
 looks ; so that anybody who now gazed upon him, 
 would be impressed with the idea that he was a 
 shrewd, keen, and business-like person, not alto- 
 gether deficient in benevolence— straightforward 
 in his dealings, and of strict integrity. Indeed, a 
 very different being was Mr. Timperley with his 
 blue coat and brass buttons, his buff waistcoat, his 
 black kerseymere pantaloons, his well-polished 
 boots, his diamond pin in his shirt-frill, his gold 
 chain and massive seals pendant from his fob, — a 
 Tery different being did he thus appear from what 
 he was when poorly apparelled, a mean-looking, 
 cringing, bowing clerk in the timo of Joshua 
 Waldron. 
 
 It will be remembered that the deep-laid plot 
 in respect to the Ormsby Peerage had been reli- 
 giously kept a secret by Honoria even on her 
 death-bed ; while Mr. Timperley for his own sake 
 had as studiously concealed it. Suspicions there 
 were at the time that something must ba wrong in 
 respect to that matter, on account of Morton 
 Evelyn's sudden and mysterious disappearance, 
 and of Waldron's suicide— although this latter 
 tragedy might be attributed to the ruin of his 
 pecuniary affairs. But those suspicions had gra- 
 dually died away; and everything which related 
 to ilorton Evelyn's transient pretensions and as- 
 sumptions, had now been long forgotten. Mr. and 
 Mrs Lister however had not liked Timperley ; and 
 tims they confided not their affairs to his profes- 
 sional keeping. Not that they knew of anything 
 positively wrong against him: but they had shared 
 at the time in the general misgivings respecting 
 tl«e affair of the Ormsby Peerage, and they knew 
 that if Mr. Waldron were himself guilty of any 
 underhand work in the business, Timperley as his 
 confidential clerk could not possibly have been in- 
 nocent. During Mr. Lister's lifetime, he and 
 'Ximperley were merely upon speaking terms : but 
 after bis death the lawyer contrived to ingratiate 
 himself, by a great show of sympathy and kind. 
 ness, to some 'little degree into Mrs. Lister's 
 favour — yet not sufficiently so as to induce her to 
 leave him the guardian of her daughter and niece, 
 He had however displayed no auuiosity— what- 
 
 ever he might have inwardly felt— at a proof of 
 distrust which, as the successor of the deceased 
 Waldron, he might have regarded as an actual 
 insult and flagrant slight: but, on the contrary, 
 he exhibited the most benevolent interest on be- 
 half of the young ladies. He even wished that 
 they should altogether take up their abode be- 
 neath his roof: but this was an arrangement to 
 which Floribel would not for a moment consent. 
 Wo should however observe that with respect to 
 the guardianship of the young ladies, no arrange- 
 ment had been made by Mrs. Lister at all : for she 
 herself had perished too suddenly, by means of a 
 crushing malady, to take the requisite step for 
 such a purpose. All that she had done at some 
 preiious time was to settle her pecuniary affairs 
 in such a way that through the medium of a 
 banker her daughter and her niece should become 
 her co-heiresses. Therefore it was merely in this 
 disposal of those pecuniary interests that Mr. 
 Timperley had any reason to feel slighted or 
 offended, if he thought at all upon the matter. 
 
 The lawyer's wife was about ten years younger 
 than himself, and consequently midway between 
 fifty and sixty at the time of which we are now 
 writing. They had been married since their youth- 
 ful period, when he was in the enjoyment of that 
 first phase of prosperity which by his improvidence 
 he had destroyed ; and she had belonged to a very 
 respectable family. The protracted interval of 
 comparative poverty which she had experienced 
 while her husband was for years a mere clerk in 
 Waldron's employment, had not divested Mrs. 
 Timperley of those ladyHke manners, tastes, and 
 habits, in which she had been brought up; and 
 thus, when her husband, again restored to the 
 "Law List," entered upon his second phase of 
 prosperity, ho had a wife who could glide na- 
 turally as it were into these changing circum- 
 stances. When once established at their house in 
 Lincoln's Inn Fields, they gave parties ; and Mrs 
 Timperley performed the duties of a hostess with 
 a ladylike courtesy. Floribel disliked them both, 
 from the simple reason that she fancied her mother 
 had mistrusted them : but Agnes, more inclined to 
 judge generously where there was no positive 
 ground for entertaining suspicion, felt grateful for 
 the attentions she and her cousin received from 
 their hands Indeed the two young ladies were 
 always invited to Mrs. Timperley's evening enter- 
 tainments; and Floribel was too fond of society to 
 remain away from those parties simply on ac- 
 count of her dislike for the persons who gave 
 
 The reader will recollect that Agnes had been 
 to call at the Timperleys while Floribel was seated 
 with her visitors in the arbour on the occasion 
 when the Hon. Mr. Clifford revealed the secret of 
 the duel. Agues had a special object for paying 
 the visit on this particular day. She had learned 
 that an orphan niece of Mrs. Timperley had come 
 up from the country to reside altogether with her 
 relatives in Lincoln's Inn Fields; and therefore 
 Miss Evelyn had deemed it only an act of courtesy 
 to call upon that young lady. Floribel, being in 
 one of her indolent moods, had excused herself 
 from accompanying her cousin : but when they 
 were seated together at the dinner-table in the 
 evening, after the interview between Agnes and 
 Charles De Tere, Miss Lister bethought herself of
 
 AS5E8; OK, BEAriT X»P PIBASCKB. 
 
 a topic on which her curiosity for want of a better 
 was now excited. 
 
 " You have forgotten to tell me, my^Sear 
 Agnes," she said, as lounging back in her chair, 
 ahe played languidly with a bunch of grapes, 
 " about your visit to the Ximperleys to-day. Did 
 you see Miss Xeale ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Agnes : " I was introduced to 
 Miss yeale ; and I have no doubt she will call 
 upon us in a day or two." 
 
 " And what sort of a person is she P" inquired 
 Floribel. 
 
 '■ Having been only half-an-hour in her society," 
 rejoined Agnes, " I cannot very easily pass a posi- 
 
 " But at least you can tell me what she is 
 like ?■' said Floribel. " How old is she ? is she 
 handsome or ugly— lady-like or otherwise — tall or 
 short— stout or thin?" 
 
 "How many more questions, my sweet cousin ?" 
 asked Agnes, with a soft smile. "But let me en. 
 deavout to answer you as well as I can. I 
 should think that Miss ^'eale " 
 
 " What is her Christian name t" inquired 
 Floribel. 
 
 " Cicely," responded Agnes. 
 
 " A pretty name !" said Floribel. " I hope her 
 face coresponds therewith." 
 
 " I was on the point of telling you," replied 
 Agnes, stiU smiling, " that Cicely I^'eale is about 
 two-and-twenty years of age, so far as I can judge. 
 She is tall, and of very handsome shape. Without 
 being absolutely beautiful, she is certainly good- 
 looking. She has luxuriant hair of a light brown, 
 which she wears gathered up in a loose knot — a 
 •tyle that well becomes the expression of her coun- 
 tenance. She has fine blue eyes " 
 
 " You are making her out actually beautiful," 
 interjected Floribel. 
 
 "But stop, my dear cousin!" cried Agnes, 
 laughing. "To be very critical, I must pronounce 
 her mouth too large — her lips too full, though not 
 actually coarse ; and then too I gladly admit that , 
 this fault is redeemed by a superb set of teeth. 
 She seems affable, yet slightly pensive, and at 
 times abstracted." 
 
 "Perhaps her parents have only recently died ?" 
 •lid Floribel. 
 
 "Her father has long been dead," answered 
 Agnes : " her mother died nearly three years ago 
 —indeed about the time that your poor mother, 
 Floribel " 
 
 "Then she is not in mourning?" said Miss 
 Lister ; " and the grief for her mother's death 
 must have worn off? Where has she been living 
 all this time ?— and why is she only now coming 
 to reside with her uncle and aunt ?" 
 
 " S're has been living someahere near Cam- 
 brr^e, I believe," replied Miss Evelyn : " but your 
 other question, Floribel, I am unable to answer. 
 From something that Mrs. Timperley said, how- 
 ever, I fancy— but mind, I am not sure — that Miss 
 2i"eale has been living by herself." 
 
 "And therefore, perhaps, tired of that mode of 
 life, and the period of her mourning being some 
 time past," said Floribel, "she has come up to 
 London to mix in society. And she is right too ! 
 —for what would this world be if it were not for a 
 little gaiety and recreation P' - 
 
 let us leave the two cousins in the miist of 
 
 their conversation for the present, and direct th» 
 attention of our readers to another part of th» 
 theatre of our story. 
 
 It was a couple of days after that of which we 
 have been speaking, and at about two o'clock ia 
 the afternoon, that a tall, good-looking, well-dressed 
 young lady was passing through Lincoln's Inn 
 i Fields. This was Cicely Neale. She has already 
 [ been partially described : bat we will give the 
 picture a few more touches in order to render it 
 complete. Miss Seale was an exceedingly fine- 
 grown young woman, carrying herself perfectly 
 upright, but with a graceful ease bordering upon 
 elegance. She had a beautiful complexion, with 
 little colour upon the cheeks— yet not of an insipid 
 paleness. There was a certain softness of exprea- 
 sion in her large blue eyes : but yet it did not 
 seem to be altogether of sentiment— it bespoke 
 some feeling which an observer could not alto- 
 gether understand. The rich fulness of the lipa 
 and the roundness of the chin gave to the lower 
 part of her countenance a certain air of sensuoua- 
 ness, which was however neutralized by the ex- 
 pression of the upper part. She was robustly 
 formed, without bordering upen actual stoutness; 
 her contours were full and rich, yet all the pro- 
 portions being adapted to a perfect symmetry. 
 Thus her shoulders had a fine slope — her arms 
 were well modelled — her waist was slender— her 
 ankles were admirably rounded — and her feet were 
 long, narrow, and well shaped. We should add 
 that her full pouting lips were ever habitually 
 held slightly apart, — thus revealing a glimpse of 
 the superb teeth which Agnes Evelyn had no* 
 failed to eulogize. 
 
 Cicely Jfeale had been into Holborn to make a 
 few purchases ; and she was now returning to the 
 house in Lincoln's Inn Fields, to accompany her 
 aunt Mrs. Timperley for an airing in her carriage. 
 She was pursuing her way, absorbed in certain 
 reflections that were occupying her mind ; and she 
 was thus unconscious of being the object of atten- 
 tion on the part of a female who, entering the 
 square from one of the converging streets, bad 
 suddenly caught sight of her. This was none 
 other than Mrs. Chicklade : bat a great chaogo 
 had taken place in her appearance since we first 
 described her. She was handsomely dressed, but 
 with a certain degree of gaudiness that ill became 
 her sixty years, the emaciation of her frame, her 
 sinister countenance, and her stooping gait. She 
 riveted her reptile-like eyes upon the fine form of 
 Cicely Neale: at first she stood still to contemplate 
 her as if with some little degree of uncertainty in 
 her mind; and then, suddenly convinced that she 
 was right, she followed her. As Miss Neale did 
 not turn her head, and was evidently unconscious 
 of being thus the object of attention, Mrs Chick- 
 lade accelerated her pace and speedily overtook 
 her. 
 
 " Miss Xeale I" she said, in a peculiar tone, as 
 if asserting a fact which would not admit of dis- 
 pute in case there should be an inclination to 
 deny it. 
 
 Cicely stopped short : but the instant her g3z^ 
 was bent upon the sinister-looking countenance ot 
 Mrs. Chicklade, a scarcely describable expression 
 of disgust, annoyance, indignation, and hatred 
 seized upon her features. 
 
 "And so you are in Lmdon, Miss?" conti:v.i.>i
 
 AONES; OB, BEA0TY AKD FLEASUB^ 
 
 the old woman, affecting a simpering air. " Per- 
 faapa I can guess why : and if so " 
 
 " Woman, I teill and can have nothing to do 
 with you !" interrupted Cicely, with looks and 
 accents indicative of an abhorreoce and a disgust 
 that were becoming more and more intense. 
 
 "Perhaps you may think it well to alter your 
 decision, Miss," said the old woman. " I have 
 plenty of time on my hands : I have been down 
 in the world since last I saw you— but now, thank 
 G-od ! I am getting up again " 
 
 " Blaspheme not, woman !" interrupted Miss 
 Neale indignantly. " Whatsoever you may be 
 thankful for, must doubtless have been attained 
 at the expense of some fellow-creature's misery." 
 
 " That is as people take it," rejoined Mrs. 
 Chicklade, with a calmness that was in itself hor- 
 rible, as if she quietly gloated over her misdeeds. 
 ** I tell you, Miss Neale, that I have time upon 
 my hands, and that my services may be useful. 
 You can scarcely act for yourself: you will re. 
 quire some one else to act for you;— and why not 
 as well employ me, since I already know so much ? 
 In short, 1 am resolved that you shall enlist my 
 
 services " 
 
 " Ah ! would you force your odious self upon 
 me?" ejaculated Cicely. "Think you that lam 
 compelled " 
 
 " Dare you quarrel with me, Miss Neale ?" 
 asked Mrs. Chicklade, looking the young lady full 
 in the face. " If you felt strong enough, either 
 in your own position or in your own purpose, to 
 reject and scorn me, would you have remained 
 standing here for five minutes exchanging these 
 words with me ?" 
 
 Cicely seemed to be struck by the speech thus 
 addressed to her, as if there were indeed truth in 
 it, and as if it revealed to her the full sense of her 
 own weakness of position or purpose, which- 
 soever it might be. She reflected for a few mo- 
 ments ; and then she said, " Yes— I may have 
 some questions to put to you. But we cannot 
 linger in conversation here. Call upon me to- 
 morrow, precisely at twelve o'clock." 
 
 " To-morrow is Sunday, Miss," said the old hag, 
 — adding with a half-scornful leer, " Perhaps you 
 may bo at church ? ' 
 
 " Come tomorrow, I say, at twelve o'clock pre- 
 cisely !" repeated Miss Neale, with angry petu- 
 lance. " I live at that house yonder. If you come 
 as the clock is striking, you will find the front 
 door ajar. Enter— and I shall be waiting for 
 you." 
 
 " I will be punctua'l to the instant," said Mrs. 
 Chicklade : and as she turned to depart in another 
 direction, she muttered to herself, " I thought so! 
 When once they have known me, they cannot do 
 without me. Things are looking up : the tide of 
 fortune is changing— and at length I am in luck's 
 way again." 
 
 Meanwhile Cicely Neale was continuing her 
 way homeward — but with a slower pace and even 
 a more deeply thoughtful look than before she had 
 encountered Mrs. Chicklade. Mingled with the 
 expression of her countenance was an air of an- 
 noyance, which presently found utterance from 
 her lips, as she murmured, " What ill fortune 
 could possibly have cast that vile wretch in my 
 way ? Ah ! she is one of those creatures who, 
 ■n-nen once known, will continually cross one's path 
 
 I —and to get rid of whom one might almost bo 
 I driven to the perpetration of a crime !" 
 1 , The following day was Sunday. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Timperley always made it a rule to go to church 
 with the utmost regularity ; and they likewise in- 
 sisted that as many of their domestics as could 
 possibly be spared should attend divine service 
 also. This much of the habits of the household 
 had been already intimated to Miss Neale ; and 
 she had therefore fixed her appointment with Mrs. 
 Chicklade for an occasion when it could bo most 
 conveniently kept — that is to say, with the least 
 chance of attracting any particular notice. At 
 breakfast-time on the Sunday morning. Cicely 
 pleaded a very severe headach as an excuse for 
 not accompanying her uncle and aunt to church ; 
 I and they accordingly went without her. All the 
 I servants, with the exception of the cook and the 
 housemaid, likewise proceeded to the temple of 
 \ worship ; and Cicely Neale with some degree of 
 I anxiety awaited the moment when Mrs. Chicklade 
 was to make her appearance. A few minutes be- 
 I fore twelve. Cicely assured herself that the cook 
 was in the kitchen and that the housemaid was 
 busy with her work in the bed-chambers up-stairs. 
 She stole down from the drawing-room— set th» 
 front door ajar — and then lingered in the hall, 
 until that door was pushed completely open just 
 as the church-clocks were proclaiming the hour of 
 mid-day. Cicely motioned Mrs. Chicklade to oloss 
 the door cautiously; and she then led the way into- 
 Mr. Timperley's private office — that being the- 
 most convenient room in which they might con- 
 verse together without the fear of the presence of 
 any stranger in the house being suspected by 
 either of the domestics who had remained away 
 from church. 
 
 We should observe that it was very far from 
 Mr. Timperley's habit to leave unlocked the door 
 of his private office : but it happened on this pre- 
 sent occasion that he had done so, the key being in 
 the door. Immediately after breakfast he had 
 descended to his office, where he had remained en- 
 gaged for about half-an-hour— until his butler had 
 requested him to look into the cellar, on account 
 of some little accident which had befallen a bin of 
 choice wine : and on ascending from the lower 
 regions, Mr. Timperley found his wife waiting for 
 him in the hall. She was rather impatient— it 
 was close upon eleven o'clock ; and he had there- 
 fore at once snatched down his hat from a peg aod 
 issued with his wife from the house. To this cir- 
 cumstance was to be attributed Mr. Timperley's 
 oversight in leaving the key of his private room 
 in the lock. Miss Neale had observed that it was 
 there when descending to set the front-door ajar ; 
 and she at once perceived that it would be the 
 best place for her interview with Mrs. Chicklade ; 
 — so that thither she accordingly conducted the 
 old woman. 
 
 The writing-table was strown with documents, 
 which Mr. Timperley had been examining previous 
 to his departure for church ; for he did not hesi- 
 tate to devote an Kour or two to such professional 
 study on a Sunday ; and thus, as the reader has 
 doubtless already conjectured, the lawyer's regular 
 attendance at a place of worship was for mere ex- 
 ternal show. 
 
 Cicely Neale and Mrs. Chicklade were now ia 
 the private office together. There was an expre»-
 
 AOKE3 : 
 
 PLEASOBB. 
 
 eion of calm resolve on the counteuance of the 
 former — the placid determination of one who bad 
 mode up her miod to a particular course of action, 
 unless anything should transpire to suggest a 
 change of policy. Mrs. Chicklade was attired 
 itith the same gaudiness as on the preceding day 
 so that she looked like a mummy dressed up ii 
 flaunting apparel. She simpered and smiled to i 
 certain extent, but mereiy for the purpose of con 
 ciliation — and not to enact the part of one whi 
 felt that her power over another was so slight as 
 to require the occessory means of cajolery and 
 sycophancy. 
 
 •' Now tell me," said Miss Neale, adopting some- 
 what of an air of command, " what do you know 
 of him ?" 
 
 " He is in London, as doubtless you fancied," 
 replied tha old vioman; "or else you yourself 
 would scarcely be in the metropolis likewise." 
 
 " Yes— I conjectured that be must be in Ion- 
 don," said Miss Neale. " Do you know anything 
 of bis pursuits — his occupations— his proceed- 
 ings ?" 
 
 " I have seen him on two or three occasions in 
 the neighbourhood of St. John's Wood," rejoined 
 Jlrs. Chicklade. " That is a little way beyond the 
 Eegent's Park- " 
 
 " I know it well," interrupted Cicely. " When 
 a girl I lived in London ; and I am well acquainted 
 with its principal neighbourhoods. Besides, I 
 have acquaintances at St. John's Wood. But pro- 
 ceed. I feel convinced that you can tell me more. 
 You are not a woman to miss an opportunity of 
 playing the part of a spy in respect to any one 
 whom you may have ever known." 
 
 " I am going to tell you all I know," answered 
 Mrs. Chicklade. " He in whom you are interested, 
 
 young 
 
 ladi( 
 
 " What kind of ladies ?" asked Cicely, a alight 
 flush flitting over her countenance. 
 
 " Eespectahle young ladies, and eminently beau- 
 tiful," rejoined the old woman. " They live at a 
 bouse called Sidney Villa " 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated Cicely, for a moment struck 
 with astonishment. " You mean Miss Lister and 
 Miss Evelyn ?" 
 
 " 1 do," replied Mrs. Chicklade. " Do you 
 know them ?" she asked. 
 
 " They visit at this house," answered Cicely : 
 " they are the same to whom I just now alluded. 
 Miss Evelyn was here two or three days ago ; and 
 Miss Lister was here yesterday. It was my in- 
 tention to call upon those young ladies— they 
 are cousins — to-morrow : but after what you have 
 
 told me" and here Miss Neale stopped short, 
 
 looking bewildered as well as afflicted, and even 
 
 " Yes, it is true," continued Mrs. Chicklade, 
 " that he visits at that house ; and nfter what you 
 have just said, your position evidently becomes all 
 the more perplexing and difficult; so that you 
 Btand in all the greater need of an astute, clever, 
 and discreet assistant like myself. I am a woman 
 who " 
 
 " And why think you," asked Miss Neale, who 
 had not heeded Mrs. Chicklade's latter observa- 
 tion!!, — "and why think you," she said, her voice 
 baring a certain hollowness in it, as if under the 
 influence of powerful emotions agitating in her 
 bosom, but which she was endeavouring with all 
 
 her power to control, — " and what think you is 
 bis object in visiting at Sidney Villa t Those 
 young ladies are of a respectability which forbids 
 the thought that his aim can bo a base one." 
 
 " Then perhaps he means marriage," eaid Mrs. 
 Chicklade ; and with a furtive look she watched 
 the effect of the suggeation she bad just thrown 
 out. 
 
 Cicely Neale was already pater than usual : but 
 now for a moment she became ghastly with the 
 death-like pallor which overspread her counte- 
 nance : her lips themselves— those lips which were 
 naturally of so rich a redness— became white; and 
 they quivered as she seemed to gasp for the 
 power of utterance. At length she aaid in a low 
 deep voice, but rather as if musing to herself than 
 actually addressing the old woman, " And he dares 
 to think of marriage — with another .'" 
 
 " There can be little doubt of it !" said Mrs. 
 Chicklade. " Indeed, I heard a whisper in the 
 neighbourhood to this effect -" 
 
 " It is false, woman !" ejaculated Miss Neale, 
 with a sudden fierceness of tone ; and ber eyes, 
 which naturally were so soft in their expression, 
 flashed forth fire, as if the pure deep blue of the 
 summer-night's heaven became all in an instant 
 vivid with a blaze of lightning. " You only tell 
 me this because you think that you will render 
 your services all the more necessary to mo !" 
 
 Cicely had rightly fathomed Mrs. Chicklade's 
 motive: but the old woman met her blazing looks 
 with an audacious hardihood ; and resolving to 
 stick to the untruth, she said, "Yes, I have beard 
 that report in the neighbourhood of St. John's 
 Wood. If you disbelieve me, go and inquire for 
 yourself." 
 
 Miss Neale again grew profoundly agitated — 
 but rather with the warfare of inward feelings, 
 than with those that were outwardly betrayed,— 
 unless it were by a returning ghastliness of look 
 and a momentary quivering of the ashy lips— 
 those lips which seemed of so luscious a beauty 
 when full of their rich redness, but which looked 
 absolutely hideous when the vital colouring had 
 thus fled from them. 
 
 " And has that same rumour said more ?" she 
 at length asked, in a hollow voice : " has it as- 
 scribed 7iM attentions to either of those ladies in 
 
 Mrs. Chicklade was on the very point of boldly 
 proclaiming one of the cousins at random, when it 
 struck her that she might overshoot the mark, and 
 that the more she enveloped the whole aifuir in 
 mystery, uncertainty, and doubt, the more certain 
 it was that her own services would be engaged by 
 Miss Neale. She therefore eaid, " I have not as 
 yet been able to glean so deep an insight into all 
 that is progressing at Sidney Villa. Bat if you 
 know those young ladies, you are aware that they 
 are surpassingly beautiful." 
 
 " Yes— I have seen them," said Cicely, heaving 
 a profound sigh ; " and they are indeed the love- 
 liest girls my eyes ever rested upon. Oh ! I feel," 
 she added, as she flung a despairing glance into 
 a mirror over the mantelpiece, " that I myself am 
 not to he compared to either of them !" 
 
 "Take courage, my dear— take courage," said 
 Mrs. Chicklade, in a half southing, half patron- 
 ising tone : but she stopped short, and eren quailed 
 for an instant, at the look of intente loathing
 
 AGSES; OK, BEAUTY AND PtEASUEE. 
 
 and disgust which Cicely's fine eyes darted upon 
 her. 
 
 "Cease, woman!" ejaculated the young lady. 
 " If from my own heart I receive not the inspira- 
 tion of courage, it is not to be gained from the lips 
 of such as you !" 
 
 •'Well, well, Miss— I did not mean to offend 
 you," said Mrs. Chicklade. " I only thought that 
 if I were entrusted with this business, I would 
 very soon devise some scheme to upset all the 
 young gentleman's hopes and ideas in that 
 quarter." 
 
 " Now listen to me !" said Miss Neale, speaking 
 in a firm tone of voice and wearing a decisive look. 
 •* I do not mean to avail myself of your services. 
 The rose of love has already been poisoned by the 
 sliaie of the snail passing over it. Tears — aye, 
 the bitterest tears — have gone far to wash that 
 slime away, as the crystal shower from heaven 
 might wash it from the rose : — and it shall be 
 no more polluted by such venomous contact 
 I sought this interview but to elicit from your lipi 
 whatsoever yott\night have to tell me. I would 
 have questioned you yesterday— but we could not 
 speak in a public place. You have come to my 
 appointment — you have answered my queries — and 
 1 will reward you. We then separate ; and hence- 
 forth we continue utter strangers to each other 
 as would to God we had always been !" 
 
 These last words were spoken with a sudden 
 sinking of the voice, but yet with accents the fer- 
 vour of which seemed all the more concentrated 
 because the tone itself was thus lowered. Cicely 
 felt in her pocket fur her purse : but she had left it 
 on the toilet-table of her bed-chamber. 
 
 " Eemain here for a few moments," she said, 
 " while I fetch you your recompense." 
 
 Miss Neale issued from the private office — first 
 peeping cautiously forth to assure herself that the 
 coast was clear. She ascended to her bed-chamber, 
 and possessed herself of her purse: but on de- 
 scending again, she perceived that the housemaid 
 was sweeping down the lower flight of stairs 
 Cicely could not pass her, for the servant was in a 
 position to behold her re-enter Mr. Timperley's 
 I private office. This misadventure was terribly 
 annoying, and even alarming : but there was no 
 immediate help for it — nothing but a little pa. 
 tience and a trusting in the chapter of accidents. 
 Miss Neale was compelled to enter the drawing- 
 room, the door of which she however left open' in 
 order that she might hear when the housemaid 
 had finished her work upon the stairs. Cicely had 
 adopted the precaution of taking the key from the 
 lock of her uncle's door when first she conducted 
 Mrs. Chicklade into the private office : b-ut what 
 if the housemaid should happen to try that door 
 and find it unlocked ? what if it were even a part 
 of her duty to penetrate into the ofiice in order to 
 aet it to rights ? Cicely had only been a few days 
 at the house ; and she was not so entirely ac- 
 quainted with its habits and customs as to be be- 
 yond the reach of those fears. She therefore re- 
 mained a prey to the inteusest alarm for nearlv 
 twenty minutes, during which the housemaid Wi.3 
 dusting down the stairs and sweeping out the 
 hall. Never did twenty minutes seem so much 
 like twenty hours to the anxious and suspenseful 
 Miss Neale !— never, in her whole life had it struck 
 her that any maid-servant was bo unnecessarily 
 
 long in the performance of her. work ! And then, 
 too, it was now a quarter to one— church might 
 soon be over— the Timperleys and their domestics 
 might return at any moment ! 
 
 But all these apprehensions with which Cicely 
 was torturing herself, proved to bo unfounded. 
 The housemaid finished her work in the hall, and 
 I descended into the kitchen. Then Cicely glided 
 down the stairs, and noiselessly re-entered the 
 private ofSce. 
 
 " Here," she said to Mrs. Chicklade, as she de- 
 posited tiventy sovereigns upon the table, "is the 
 recompense which I have to olfer. Tou may 
 judge by its amount that it is not a mere reward 
 for the slight trouble I have this day given you in 
 coming to meet me — but that it is a parting pre- 
 sent from one who requires your services no longer, 
 and who never again means to use them. Go your 
 ways — and cross my path no more !" 
 
 Mrs. Chicklade gathered up the money without 
 a word : but when she had secured it about her 
 person, she said with a bold insolent air, " And so 
 you intend, Miss Neale, to conduct your future 
 proceedings without my assistance ?" 
 
 " Such is my intention," answered Cicely, with 
 calm resoluteness of manner. 
 
 " And what if I insist upon being engaged as 
 your instrument and agent?" said the woman. 
 
 " I should reject your peremptory demand," 
 replied Miss Neale, " with as much determination 
 as I have ere now declined the proffer when it waa 
 more civilly made." 
 
 " Would you threaten me ?" asked the old wo- 
 man, her reptile eyes gleaming with a sinister 
 light. 
 
 " You would care no more for my threats than 
 I should care for yours, were you to utter them," 
 responded Cicely, still with a calm and quiet re- 
 soluteness of tone and manner. 
 
 " And yet I could tell a tale," said the woman, 
 with another malignant flashing of those hideous 
 eyes of hers. 
 
 " Tell it !" said Cicely ; " and see how much I 
 shall care for it !" 
 
 Mrs. Chicklade now ga«ed upon the young lady 
 with an astonishment as much unfeigned as in its 
 betrayal it was involuntary ; and then suddenly 
 changing her whole demeanour — ^ either because 
 she fancied that Cicely must have some strong 
 ground for thus defying her, or else because she 
 herself did not deem it politic to quarrel with one 
 who might after all need her services and who paid 
 for them so liberally — she said, " Come, come. 
 
 Miss! I was but jesting don't be angry with 
 
 me ! If you won't let me assist in this matter, 
 you must of course have your own way : but in 
 case you should require my help, I may as well 
 let you know where I may be found " 
 
 "No!" said Miss Neale resolutely; "it is use- 
 less to maintain even the shadow of an idea that 
 our intercourse is to be continued or renewed. I 
 do not want to know your address. You have got 
 your reward and beware how you ever again 
 come across my path. And now leave me!" 
 
 Mrs. Chicklade again flung an involuntary look 
 of astonishment upon Miss Neale,— evidently mar- 
 velling how it was possible she could assume such 
 high ground and speak so dictatorially : but she 
 beheld in Cicely's countenance nothing to afford a 
 clue to the reading of the mystery : those features
 
 43 
 
 AG5«S; OB, BEAtTTT AND PLEASCBS. 
 
 etill wore an expression of calm reaoluteness and 
 6ied determination. The old woman therefore 
 mored towwtde the door which Cicely opened for 
 her: and the youag lady having assured herself 
 that the coast was still clear, afforded Mrs. Chick- 
 lade egress from the house. A glaoce, flung forth 
 from the front door, convinced Miss Neale like- 
 wise that the Timperleys were not yet returning 
 homeward through the square ; and having re- 
 placed the key in the door of the private office, she 
 stole back to the drawing-room, perfectly satisfied 
 that Mrs. Cbicklade's visit remained unsuspected 
 by the two servants who were in the house. 
 
 AVhen the Timperleys returned home from 
 church, the lawyer discovered that he had left the 
 key of his private office behind him. He hastily 
 entered that room — but came forth again, tolerably 
 well satisfied that no one had penetrated thither 
 during his absence. Still he deemed it expedient 
 to assure himself more completely of this fact ; 
 and summoning the housemaid, he said, as if in a 
 sort of indifferent manner, " You didn't happen to 
 go, Mary, into my private room while I was away 
 at church— to dust it— ur anything of that 
 kind?" 
 
 "Oh, no, sir J" at once replied the young 
 woman. " I am sure I did not know Whether it 
 was unlocked or not : for your orders are so posi- 
 tive that the inner office is never to be touched 
 onlv at such times when you give permission " 
 
 " Well, well, Mary— all right !" said Mr. Tim- 
 perley. " Only I happened to leave my key 
 behind — and there are so many valuable papers 
 tossing about— that I feared " 
 
 But the rest of Mr. Timperley's speech was lost 
 in indistinct mutterings, as with the key in his 
 pocket he ascended the stairs to the drawing- 
 
 " Cicely, my dear," inquired Mrs. Timperley, 
 "how do you feel now f" 
 
 " My headach is a little bettor," replied Miss 
 If eale : " but 1 have never once quitted this sofa " 
 —.for on a. sofa she was half-reclining-" all the 
 while you have been at church." 
 
 Mr. Timperley was rejoiced to hear this 
 assurance from his. niece's lips; for it saved him 
 putting the question whether she had by any 
 accident had the curiosity to penetrate into his 
 sanctum. 
 
 " But you still loot pale and ill, my dear girl," 
 said Mrs. Timperley: "and you must take care 
 
 of 
 
 "Oh, I shall be better to-morrow, my dear 
 aunt !" responded Miss Ncale •- and with a slight 
 cough she concealed a sigh which she could not 
 
 altogether repress. 
 
 CHAPTEK X 
 
 MB. TlilPEELEY. 
 
 PritCTCALLT at ten o'clock on the following 
 morning, Mr. Timperley entered his private room, 
 and s^t down to look over the letters which he 
 had previously just glanced at while seated at the 
 breakfast-table. He had not been many minut' 
 in his professional sanctuary, before there was 
 tap at the door communicating with the outer 
 
 ffice : and the clerk who entered announced Lord 
 Mendlesham. 
 
 The nobleman made his appearance : the clerv 
 withdrew : and the lawyer rose to receive bis 
 patrician patron with a low bow. Lord Mendle- 
 sham was a man of about five-and-forty years cf 
 age— tall— upright— and somewhat stoutly built, 
 yet not inclining to corpulency, nor with any 
 clanuy inelegance of figure. He had dark grey 
 eyes, which were exceedingly intelligent and ex- 
 pressive—an aquiline countenance— and all the 
 evidences of having been in his youth exceedingly 
 dsome. His hair, which was ufa dark brown, 
 had only just begun to be mingled with grey : but 
 ^8 much worn away from off the temples and 
 from the front part of the crown— which partial 
 baldness however, by giving height to the forehead, 
 added to the noble and intellectual expression of 
 the countenance. His lordship was well, yet 
 plainly dressed ; and the dust upon his boots indi- 
 cated that he had walked from his own abode at 
 the West End to the lawyer's house in Lincoln's 
 Inn Fields. 
 
 Having taken the seat which the clerk had 
 placed for him. Lord Mendlesham motioned to Mr. 
 Timperley to resume his own chair: and he at 
 once opened his business by saying) " I call to 
 consult you on a very unpleasant affair." 
 
 Indeed, my lord ? I am sorry to hear it," 
 said Mr. Timpe;-ley; though in bis heart he was 
 really glad— for the unpleasant affairs of his clienta 
 were lucrative ones ,to himself. 
 
 We.shouldthowever here observe that Mr. Tim- 
 perley was npt Lord Mendlesham's regular legal 
 adviser, but was merely honoured with some small 
 portion of the nobleman's affairs. 
 
 "Have you heard no rumour, Mr. Timperley ?" 
 inquired Lord Mendlesham : " has nothing met 
 your ears— nothing of a peculiar nature ?" 
 
 " Ifothing, my lord," replied the attorney, 
 " which can in any way afford me a clue to what 
 is now passing in your lordship's thoughts." 
 
 " Then I can tell you, Mr. Timperley," rejoined 
 Mendlesham, " that it is a most unpleasant busi- 
 ness, and one which has given me the greatest 
 annoyance ever since the rumour reached my ears 
 on Saturday evening. Indeed, I should have come 
 to you yesterday, only that I fancied you legal 
 gentlemen are fond of going out of town on the 
 Sunday " 
 
 " ^'o, my lord," interjected Mr. Timperley. " I 
 always make it a rule to attend a place of worship 
 on the Sabbath ■" 
 
 " Well, well," interrupted Mendlesham, as a 
 slight and scarcely perceptible expression of in- 
 credulous scorn for an instant curled his haughty 
 upper lip : " in any case, then, I did well not to 
 disturb you. And now at length I may consult 
 you. That wild boy of mine has been fighting a 
 duel !" 
 
 "What? the Hon. Mr. Hector perilling his 
 precious lifel" exclaimed the lawyer, affecting a 
 deep sympathy. " I have not the pleasure of the 
 Hon. Mr. Hector's acquaintance — indeed I only 
 just know him by sight : but still for your lord- 
 ship's sake I am deeply afflicted." 
 
 " I have not told you all," exclaimed Lord 
 Mendlesham. "Who do you think was bit 
 
 antagonist ? Xone other " and here 09 
 
 fixed his eyes with a look of peculiar signiG-
 
 AQNES; OK, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 11 
 
 Jincy on the lawjer— " none other than Charles 
 De Vere !" 
 
 " Good God ! is it possible ?" exc'.aimed Mr. 
 Timperley, with a sudden start which was indeed 
 tuost unaffected. 
 
 " It is as I tell jou," resumed Lord Mendle- 
 sham, in a low mournful Toice. " The rumour 
 was wafted to mj ear on Saturday night at the 
 
 CarltoD " thus alluding to the aristocratic 
 
 club to which he belonged, and which will show- 
 the reader that his lordship was a member of the 
 high Torv party. "The moment I heard the re- 
 port of this duel, I knew that it must be a true 
 one : for Hector has been confined to the house 
 for the last few days with some ailment of the 
 arm, sustained, as he alleged, by a fall from his 
 tiorse, ad which he represented to be so slight as 
 :o render medical attendance unnecessary." 
 
 "And what did your lordship do on hearing this 
 tsport ?" inquired Timperley. 
 
 " I did not choose to speak to my son upon the 
 subject," responded Lord Mendlesliara. " I was 
 (earful of betraying all that I felt. You can un- 
 derstand me well, Timperley ?" 
 
 "I do, my lord!" responded the attorney. 
 "Bit what is to be done? The affair has taken 
 place— and I presume there it will end." 
 
 "Do you not comprehend," exclaimed Mendle- 
 sham, with bitterness in his accents as well as 
 with impatience in his manner, " that the inci- 
 dent is fur a thousand .reasons most unpleasant? 
 After a duel, those who were lately enemies are 
 always more friendly disposed towards each other 
 than' ever ! -that which was previously a mere 
 acquaintance, ripens into friendship ! Do you 
 note understand me, Timperley ?" 
 
 " I do, my lord," responded the solicitor. " It 
 is indeed for countless reasons most inconvenient! 
 —and if I alrealy fathom your lordship's purpose, 
 it is to devise something to preyent this fnendsbiy 
 
 /
 
 AGSEB; OE, BEAVIT A5D PLEASCKE. 
 
 from growing — this intimacy from epringing ap. 
 First of all, does joiir lordship know the cause of 
 the duel ?■■ 
 
 *' That is a point," replied Mendlesbam, "on 
 which I have been utterly unable to obtain any 
 information, beyond the fact that there was some 
 female in the case. For this reason also it is re> 
 quisite that researches should be made, and per- 
 haps measures taken." 
 
 " Precisely so, my lord," answered JTimperley. 
 - And your lordship has fortunately determined 
 not to speak upon the subject to your son P" 
 
 "I cannot, Timperley— I will not do it!" ex- 
 claimed the nobleman. " It is for you to take 
 the matter in hand. Lose no time over it— be 
 35Cret, and be 
 
 grew deeply dejected ; and he muttered to himself, 
 " Yet what help is there for it ?" 
 
 He locked up the letter in his desk ; and when 
 he had taken out the key, he tried the drawer to 
 convince himself that it was securely fastened and 
 that no one could penetrate into its mysteries 
 during his ibsence. He then issued forth from 
 bis office: but instead of walking through Lin- 
 coln's Inn Fields with the pride of conscious 
 wealth and importance, as bis demeanour was 
 wont to be, he had a half-dejected, balf-bewildere<i 
 look, as if some very great change had Baddeoly 
 taken place in his circumstances. 
 
 " The day after tomorrow, five thousand 
 
 pounds !" he muttered to himself : and then he 
 
 endeavoured to 6nd consolation in the thought 
 
 " Your lordship knows that you can trust me," I that be could certainly pay the amount without 
 
 3iid Mr. Timper'ey, bending in his torn a signili- | finding his purse very much the poorer for it after- 
 
 cant look upon the nobleman. '■ For how many [ wards : but there was no real solace in the reflec- 
 
 long years have I faithfully kept the important tion ; for be loved money dearly — he cared not 
 
 secret " I how bard he worked to obtain it— and he by no 
 
 " True, true, Timperley I" said Jlendlesham ; j means liked the idea of parting from it without 
 "and I have a grateful sense of your conduct iu ! an equivalent. 
 
 the matter. But lose no time in fathoming this j Presently taking a cab, he rode up to St. Joha'^ 
 affair ! Yon will know where first to address I Wood, and hade the driver make inquiries for & 
 
 yourself ascertain ail you can and then we 1 little villa-residence called Belmont Cottage. Tlio 
 
 mav consult upon what is requisite to be done." I habitation was soon found ; and Mr. Timperley 
 Having thus spoken. Lord Mendlesbam tcKik I alighted at the door. His summons was answered 
 his leave of the attorney.— who, after the noble- j by Margaret the housemaid, who did not however 
 man's departure, remained for some moments in I know him — for on replying in the affirmative to 
 reflection upon all that he had heard. He was \ bis query whether Mrs. De Vere were at home, 
 just rising from his seat to issue forth and enter she asked what name she should take in to her 
 upon the business now entrusted to him, when a j mistress ? 
 
 clerk entered and handed him a letter. Mr. Tim- " It is of little consequence," replied Mr. Tim- 
 perley glanced at the handwriting; and perceiving perley. "Say a legal gentleman wishes to speak 
 that it was in a scrawling vulgar style, as if coming I to Mrs De Vere." 
 
 from some indiiferently educated person, he sus- ] Mrs. De Tere herself now appeared upon the 
 pe cted it might be some appeal to his charity ; for 1 threshold of the parlour door ; for she had seea 
 Mr. and Mrs. 1 iroperley did a great deal in the I Mr. Timperley alight ; and she affably requested 
 ostentatious philanthropic way — and as their i him to walk in. He at once accepted the : 
 
 bounty was regarded in many quarters as the 
 sincere emanation of a natural benevolence, they 
 bad numerous appeals, both verbal and written, 
 from poor distressed persons. Mr Timperley was 
 therefore on the point of laying down the letter 
 again, to be read at his leisure, when a second 
 thought suggested that it might perhaps be just 
 as well to open it. He did so— and first looked at 
 the signature: it was the name of a woman, but 
 unknown to him. He perused the letter, which 
 was not very long ; but its contents must have 
 been exceedingly significant — for they produced 
 t'cie most powerful effect upon the lawyer. He 
 became pale as death— the letter dropped from his 
 hands— and he staggered back a pace or two as if 
 seized by a sudden v-rtigo. Indeed it was some 
 - minutes before he could at all regain any portion 
 of his wonted composure and self-possession ; and 
 I tSen taking up the letter, be again perused it 
 from beginning to end. 
 
 •■ Five thousand pounds !" he muttered to him- 
 j s?lf : " five thousand pounds, to be flung as it were 
 I iato the street ! It would be just the same if I 
 j were to count five thousand golden sovereigns 
 j into a bag, take the treasure with me, and toss it 
 I over the parapet of Waterloo Bridge ! Five thou- 
 sand pounds at one swoop ! — it is scarcely to be 
 thought of!" 
 
 Tet when Mr. Timperley again glanced at the 
 ill-written letter which lay before bim, bis look 
 
 tion ; and when he was alone with Mrs. De Vere, 
 he said somewhat abruptly, " I suppose your son 
 is not in the way at this hoar ?" — for it was now 
 about noon. 
 
 "' ]N'o — be is at bis office — or at least I hope so,* 
 answered Mrs. De Vere, heaving a profound siga 
 as she thought of the recent duel, coocerniog 
 which she had little doubt in her mind that Mr. 
 Timperley had come. 
 
 " Ah ! and it would be as well if he were 
 always at the office !" said the lawyer, whose 
 manner was not a whit more polite than it need 
 be : on the contrary, it appeared as if Mr. Tim- 
 perley were more or less avenging on Mrs. Da 
 Vere the bitter annoyance and vexation occasioned 
 him by the ill-written letter- "What does the 
 young fellow mean by going and getting himseif 
 into such scrapes — picking a quarrel with the very 
 last person in the world that he ought to quarrel 
 with :" 
 
 " I know it — I know it !" exclaimed the un- 
 happy mother, bursting into tears. " Ob, Mr. 
 Timperley ! if you only knew what anguish I hav^^ 
 suffered on account of this deplorable affair, yon 
 would not speak so harshly to me ! But honr has 
 it possibly become whispered abroad " 
 
 " I don't know," rejoined Mr. Timperley. " It 
 was mentioned to his lordship at bis dub : he has 
 however said nothing to his son Hector upon tbs 
 subject. And now, madam, perhaps voii will
 
 A0NE3; OE, BEACIT AND PLEASUBB. 51 
 
 have the kindness to tell me all jou know about countenance, as she gently said, " I myself have 
 it ?" sedulously abstained from any chance or risk of 
 
 " I know nothing more than that Mr. Hardress , forming the acquaintance of those young ladies." 
 bestowed some insult upon a young lady in the j " Well," continued Mr. Timperley, " you 
 presence of Charles : — Charles considered himself must get every particular out of your son when 
 bound to resent it— and hence the due'." I ho returns home this evening. Ascertain who tha 
 
 " But the young lady— who was she ?" de- ; lady was— find out on what terms he is with 
 manded Mr. Timperley. , Hector Hardress : in short, for your own sake" — 
 
 " My son did not mention the name," replied j and now he looked Mrs. De Vere in the face with 
 Mrs. De Vere ; " and indeed, from the way in a peculiar significancy — " as well as for that of 
 which he told me the tale, I should conceive that others, you must glean every requisite detail. I 
 the lady herself was a stranger to him." | shall call upon you again to-morrow, at about the 
 
 " And was he previously acquainted with Hector same hour— or perhaps a little later," added Mr. 
 Hardress ?" inquired Mr. Timperley. Timperley, as he bethought himself of other ap- 
 
 " He was," responded Mrs. De Vere, with a pointments for the earlier part of the next day. 
 deeply mournful look. "They met some three] He was now about to take his departure— when, 
 months back— at the house of mutual acquaint- as an idea struck him, he stopped short, exclaim- 
 ances who reside in this neighbourhood." | ing, " By the bye, the Michaelmas quarter has 
 
 "Indeed!" said Mr. Timperley. "And who just passed; and you have not as yet called as 
 might these be ?" i usual. Therefore I may as well settle that little 
 
 "Two highly respectable young ladies," rejoined matter while I am here." 
 Mrs. De Vere, " whg live at that picturesque villa I Thus speaking, he produced his pocket-book, 
 which you see yonder " and counted down bank-notes to the amount of 
 
 " Why, I know them well !" exclaimed Mr. fifty pounds : while Mrs. De Vere, with another 
 Timperley. " I have known them ever since they | slight flush upon her usually pale countenance, 
 were born !" j penned a receipt. The lawyer consigned it to his 
 
 " True !" murmured Mrs. De Vere to herself, pocket-book, and issued from the cottage. As he 
 " It must be so !" | re-entered the cab, he thought for a moment of 
 
 " What are you saying, ma'am ?" asked Mr. calling at Sidney Villa, in order to ascertain if pos- 
 Timperley, not catching the sense of the words. eible during the course of conversation with the 
 
 " I was merely thinking that this is a most un- . cousins, whether either of them was indeed con- 
 fortunate complication," responded Mrs- De Vere , nectedwith the recent duel: but another moment's 
 evasively. ; reflection decided him to leave the gleaning of all 
 
 " Unfortunate indeed !" ejaculated the lawyer, j particulars to Mrs. Do Vere herself : for he fancied 
 "It is strange that neither Miss Evelyn nor Miss ! that Miss Lister or Miss Evelyn might possibly 
 Xister should ever have happened to mention ' ' ' " ' . . n.- . - 
 
 my hearing that they were acquainted with either 
 
 Hector Hardress or your son. But Ah ! I recol- know he had any acquaintance with Mrs. Da Vere, 
 Icct ! I have scarcely seen the young ladies for lest they should question him on the point, 
 the last three months— Mrs. Timperley has been j Mr. Timperley accordingly directed the cabmaQ 
 unwell, and given no parties. Do you think it to retrace his way through Camden Town : but 
 possible, ma'am, that the quarrel could have been instead of proceeding to his ofiioe in Lincoln's Inn 
 about either Miss Lister or Miss Evelyn ?" ' Fields, he desired that h? might be taken to the 
 
 "I really do not know," answered Mrs. De debtor's prison in Whitecross Street. Arriving 
 Vere : and she was indeed this time telling the ' there, Mr. Timperley alighted ; and ho was evi- 
 exact truth. ! dently well known to the oiEeials— for the mo- 
 
 " Then you must find out every particular from ^ ment his countenance appeared at the various iron 
 jour son," resumed the lawyer, speaking with an gratings, the barred gates were opened— and he 
 air of authority. " His lordship cama to me ere passed into one of the compartments of that 
 now, considerably agitat-ed " I spacious establishment. He bestowed half- 
 
 " Oh, I would rather that anything should have patronising, half-familiar nods upon the several 
 happened than this I" exclaimed Mrs. De Vere. turnkeys who thus displayed so much alacrity to 
 " But it is not my fault ! I entreat you to he- , give him admittance : for the wealthy lawyer— 
 licve that I am in no way to blame- my conduct i who practised only in heavy cases, chancery suits, 
 has been most cautious and circumspect " et cetera— was regarded in a very different light 
 
 "Well, well," said Mr. Timperley, "we must ' from the needy, seedy, boozing attorneys that in- 
 see how to make the best of the matter. I do not j fested the precincts of debtor's gaols at one time 
 blame you — neither does his lordship: it is a co- | and those of the Insolvents' Court at another, 
 incidence— and an unfortunate one. We are all , Mr. Timperley plunged into the Middlesex da- 
 eircumspect ; and it is hard to find our paths [ partment — the special place of detention for 
 crossed as it were by these untoward incidents. I | prisoners who were arrested by the officers of the 
 did not give your maid-servant my name ; and j Sheriffs for the county, in contradistinction 
 therefore your son need not know that such a per- ' to those who were captured in the bailiwick 
 son as Mr. Timperley has called. It is fortunate [ of the City Sheriffs. In the large, low, ill- 
 that I was thus guarded ; for he may have heard j lighted room, crowded with prisoners and filled 
 my name mentioned at Sidney Villa— and it is just with tobacco-smoke, it would have been a diflacult 
 as well that the young ladies there should not i thing for an uninitiated visitor to pitch in a 
 know that I have any other acquaintance in this | moment upon the particular individual whom he 
 neighbourhood." |_might have come to see. But Mr. Timperley 
 
 A slight flush appeared upon Mrs. De Vere's ! knew at which of the many tables to find the 
 
 n ' have seen the cab proceed to Belmont Cottage and 
 !r , stop there, and he did not wish that they should 
 
 UKlV'ERsiTy OF 
 "-Ul^JO^S LIBRARY
 
 AOSE8 ; OE, BEACTT AHD PLEASURE. 
 
 object of his own visit thither ; and through the 
 haze of tobacco-smoke be discovered the person 
 whom be sought. This was an old man of at 
 least seventy — very respectably attired— and en- 
 joying the luxury of clean linen, which was an 
 advantage possessed by few of bis fellow-prisoners, 
 as a glance Hung around upon the motley assem- 
 blage would speedily have shown. The aged indi- 
 vidual to whom we are alluding, at onco started 
 up from his scat on beholding Mr. Timperley ; 
 and an expression of auxiou?, almost feverish sus- 
 pense seized upon his thin, pale, wan countenance. 
 He was tall, and stooped considerably : bis frame 
 was emaciated ; and yet it hal a certain wiry 
 vigour about it, considering his great age, Mr. 
 Timperley beckoned bim forth from the room ; 
 and they passed out into the paved court-yard to 
 which the prisoners had access for purposes of 
 exercise, and which was shut off by high walls 
 from the ether compartments of the establishment. 
 There the lawyer and his client began pacing 
 slowly to and fro together. 
 
 "What lidings, Mr. Timperley— what tidings 
 have you brought me f" asked the old prisoner in 
 accents of feverish suspense that corresponded with 
 his looks. " Is there a possibility of any arrange- 
 ment according to vty terms ?" 
 
 " None— on Uiose terms," replied Mr. Timper- 
 iff : " the case must come on again before the 
 Lord Chancellor next Term ; and as my clerks are 
 drawing out the fresh affidavits, I have called on 
 you for a few little particulars which are requi- 
 
 They then conversed together upon the business 
 to which the lawyer alluded ; and from this dis- 
 course a listener— had one been by— might have 
 gleaned that the old prisoner was plaintiff in the 
 great Chancery suit of " Barrington versus Dal. 
 ham" — that the case had already lasted about 
 thirty years— that Mr. Waldron was originally 
 employed for the plaintiff- that Mr. Timperley 
 had succeeded him in that professional capacity — 
 and that the matter was to be again argued very 
 shortly before the Lord Chancellor — the said 
 arguing being for about the hundredth time since 
 the suit first commenced. Our supposed listener 
 would moreover have gleaned that Mr. Barrington 
 had once ridden in his carriage — had possessed a 
 town-bouse und a country-mansion — equipages, 
 horses, and hounds— but that all these evidences 
 of wealth had long ago been so utterly swept away 
 that they only existed like a dream of the past in 
 the old man's mind. For five-and-twenty years 
 be bad been a prisoner in Wbitecrosa-street — ever 
 hoping that the " next Term" would see his case 
 settled and himself a rich man once again— but 
 ever destined to find that he must wait patiently 
 till the " next Term ;" so that Term after Term 
 had gone by, years bad faded past, and there be 
 was a prisoner still— but still looking forward with 
 the feverish anxiety of hope to the speedy settle- 
 ment of his much in7olved affairs. 
 
 " But have you hinted, my dear sir," he in- 
 quired, as he and Timperley walked to and fro in 
 the prison-yard together, — *' have you hinted to 
 the opposing attorneys that I would agree to a 
 compromise — that if Dalham would surrender me 
 up the estate in Norfolk, the three farms in £ent, 
 the houses in the City, and the read; money io 
 the Accountant' General's bands " 
 
 "Have you reflected, Mr. Barrington," asked 
 Timperley, with an ill concealed sneer, " that you 
 are demanding just three-fourths of the whole 
 object of litigation ? Sir John Dalbam's attorneys 
 ridicule the proposition " 
 
 "And I will not bate another farlhing of my 
 claim !" ejaculated the old man, querulous and 
 trembling with excitement. "I know that it is 
 good! Waldron know it — and you know it, Mr. 
 Timperley !" 
 
 *'If I had not thought so," responded the at- 
 torney, "I should not have taken it up at a ven- 
 ture at poor Mr. Waldron's death, nor should I 
 have gone on laving out my good money in pro- 
 secuting the matter. But just reflect, Mr. Bar- 
 rington. You have been here many years— you 
 have seen your family, once numerous, dying off 
 one by one " 
 
 " My God, it is true !" ejaculated the old man, 
 with a sudden burst of anguish ; " and there ar» 
 only Gustavus and ^yinifred left!" 
 
 "And for those grandchildren you must have 
 a deep affection, Mr. Barrington?" said Timper- 
 ley, as if catching at a chord which he fancied 
 might most deeply vibrate to the heart's core of 
 his aged client. 
 
 " Yes, yes— I love them well !" exclaimed Bar- 
 rington. " It cut me to the quick when poor Gus 
 insisted upon going to sea— and there is Winnie 
 who toils with her needle to support herself and 
 her poor old grandfather " 
 
 "Well, then, Mr. Barrington," interjected Tim- 
 perley, " for these considerations — for the sake -of 
 your grandchildren — you ought to be a little more 
 reasonable in your views. Eemember, law is a 
 ticklish thing to deal with ; and though your claim 
 is founded upon the strictest right, yet I think that 
 I should not be doing my duty as your legal adviser 
 if I were not to suggest that one-third for in- 
 stance " 
 
 " Never, Mr. Timperley !" cried the old man, 
 stopping short and looking the attorney fixedly in 
 the face. " I will remain and rot in gaol sooner ! 
 You know as well as X bow I have been robbed 
 and plundered by Sir John Dalbam — how kept out 
 of my just rights: and I have sworn that when- 
 ever X issue forth from these walls, it shall bo in 
 the enjoyment of at least three-fourths of my just 
 due, if not of the whole. So far as compromise 
 goes, X have recently made concessions, for poor 
 Winnie's sake, which but a few years ago I never 
 would have thought of! Ask me to yield no fur- 
 ther : X will not do it ! Besides, this next Term " 
 —and here the aged prisoner returned to harp 
 upon his old string — " the next Term must see the 
 settlement of the business." 
 
 " Well, X hope so," said the lawyer, the least 
 thing dubiously. 
 
 " Now look you, Mr. Timperley," exclaimed the 
 old man, eyeing bis solicitor with keenness : " if 
 you have any disinclination to prosecute my busi- 
 ness, tell me so at once— tell me so frankly — and 
 I will find another attorney to take it up. You 
 long ago withdrew the allowance you were wont 
 to make: but X did not grumble at that — I 
 thought it was euflicient for you to advance the 
 fees and incur all the expenses requisite for carry- 
 ing on the case. But now if you hesitate " 
 
 " I do not hesitate, Mr. Barrington," interrupted 
 Timperley, looking for a moment frightened at the
 
 ashes; OB, BBAUTY AHB rLBASDBB. 
 
 53 
 
 independence of his aged client's suddenly dis. 
 played spirit. " I will go on with the case ; but 
 I only thought I was doing the duty of a legal 
 adviser — and — and — as a Christian/' added Ticn- 
 perley, " to proffer a suggestion." 
 
 " Let me never again hear such a suggestion from 
 your lips !" ejaculated Harrington. " No no ! I 
 will not yield to the oppressor ! I must become 
 rich — very, very rich once again — for the sake of 
 Gu9, who has gone as a sailor — and of poor Winnie, 
 who toils so laboriously with her needle " 
 
 " Well, well, Mr. Barrington," interrupted the 
 lawyer, wreathing bis countenance into an expres- 
 sion of friendship and sympathy, " you shall have 
 your own way ; and I will do the best I can for 
 you. Let me see ? I have taken down in my 
 pocket-book the little memoranda I required : the 
 affidavits and briefs shall be prepared— and they 
 •hall be sent in a few days for your inspection." 
 
 " Ah, here is Winnie !'* exclaimed Mr. Barring- 
 ton : and his countenance brightened up with an 
 almost childish delight as he beheld his grand- 
 daughter advancing towards him. 
 
 Mr. Timperley now took a hurried leave of his 
 aged client, — bowing with sufficient politeness to 
 Winifred as he passed ; for he had on two or three 
 former occasions seen the young girl with her 
 grandsire : but he had never exchanged half-a- 
 dozen words with her. Indeed he studiously 
 avoided her, though without seeming to do so : for 
 he was always afraid lest she should appeal against 
 the withdrawal of that one poor guinea a week 
 which he was wont until within the last two or 
 three years to allow Mr. Barrington. 
 
 Winifred hastened towards her old grandsire, 
 and kissed him upon both cheeks with a degree of 
 affection that had something fervid and vehement 
 in it ; as if she considered him to be so completely 
 dependent upon herself for the very bread which 
 he ate — so helpless in respect to all bis own re- 
 sources—that she was prepared to make any sacri- 
 fice on his behalf, and do anything for that poor 
 old man whose prisonage was now of a quarter of 
 a century's duration. 
 
 She was about eighteen years of age— some- 
 what short of stature, but very well formed ; 
 and there was a certain gentility and gracefulness 
 in her appearance which if she had been seen else- 
 where and suitably apparelled, would have left no 
 doubt in the mind of the observer that she was a 
 young lady by present social position, as she indeed 
 was by birth. She had light hair and blue eyes : 
 her complexion was clear— but her cheeks were 
 pale, until they flushed with the agitation of her 
 feelings on bounding forward to embrace her 
 grandfather. She evidently possessed a good con- 
 stitution and naturally vigorous health: for what- 
 soever labour she might accomplish, or whatsoever 
 cares she might have, had not attenuated the form, 
 which was naturally plump, full, and well rounded. 
 Nor did her cheeks display the slightest haggard- 
 ness : their pallor, and a certain pensiveness of 
 the general expression, were the only indications 
 that Winifred Barrington toiled hard or was un- 
 happy. As for her apparel, it was exceedingly 
 neat— but of the plainest and simplest materials. 
 Tet the straw bonnet was so tastefully trimmed 
 with its cheap ribbon— the cotton dress was so well 
 made and so scrupulously clean — the somewhat 
 scanty shawl was worn with so much unstudied 
 
 grace— the hose which displayed the well-rounded 
 ankles were of such snowy whiteness— and th* 
 half.faded kid gloves defined such symmetrically 
 shaped hands, that Winifred's toilet altogether 
 would have produced the impression at a first 
 glance that it was costlier and better than it really 
 
 Winifred Barrington had known the prison 
 from her infancy : her earliest recollections were 
 associated with it. She could carry back her 
 memory to the period when, as a little child, she 
 used to sit upon the table at which her grand- 
 father seated himself in the great, long, low- 
 pitched ward, rendered hazy with tobacco-smoke. 
 She recollected full well how her father used to sit 
 for hours together, looking over papers with her 
 grandsire ; and she bore in mind how at about 
 eight years old she was put in mourning for that 
 father's death. Then she remembered how het 
 visits to the prison used to be fewer and farther 
 between, because she went as a weekly boarder to 
 school — whence her mother fetched her away every 
 Saturday evening that she might go and dine with 
 her grandsire on the Sunday— on which occasions 
 he always had a few pence to give her to take back 
 to school on the Monday. Then the next im. 
 portant date in het memory— marking the age of 
 fifteen — was her mother's death, — an incident for 
 which she again went into mourning : but she 
 recollected that the money for this mourning, as 
 well as for the funeral itself, was with difficulty 
 raised by her old grandsire :— during the lapse of 
 years he had been getting poorer since the first 
 gleam of Winnie's prison experiences. After her 
 maternal parent's death she had lived with a 
 widowed aunt, the mother of Gustavua who haa 
 been already referred to, and who was consequently 
 Winifred's cousin. Then that aunt died, when 
 Winnie was about sixteen ; and it was soon 
 afterwards that her cousin Q-us went out to sea,— 
 some last compassionating friend of the ruined 
 family having procured for him a berth on board 
 a merchant ship. It was a hard thing for the 
 cousins to part : but they knew they could not 
 live together ; and G-ustavus, possessing an inde- 
 pendent spirit, was resolved to earn the bread of 
 his own industry. Winifred was now altogether 
 alone in the world: for what protection to her was 
 her helpless old grandsire in prison ? He was 
 penniless ; and she had to earn money, not merely 
 to support herself, but to maintain him likewise. 
 
 And now the reader comprehends how it waa 
 that Mr. Barrington had a decent suit of clothea 
 upon his back, as well as linen that was scrupu- 
 lously clean. And every day he had his meals, 
 which if not sumptuous, were at all events regular, 
 wholesome, and sufficient. He enjoyed his two 
 diurnal pints of porter : he had his tobacco and 
 snuff; and of a Sunday, when the repast was 
 slightly more luxurious than on other da>s, he was 
 enabled to cheer himself with an additional allow- 
 ance of strong beer, or else with a little spirits 
 which Winifred smuggled in for him. This last 
 indulgence was contrary to the prison regulations; 
 and from the earliest date to which her recollec- 
 tions went back, she remembered the painted in- 
 scription at the entrance of the ward, denouncing 
 pains and penalties against any one who might in- 
 troduce spirituous liquors. But Winnie would 
 cheerfully risk the House of Correction rather thtta
 
 AG5ZS; OB, BEACXT ASD PLEA3LBE. 
 
 timidly forbear frutn furnishing eometbing to cheer 
 her old grandsire ivhea in his dejected moods : all 
 the toinkeje knew that now and then there was a 
 little bottle at the bottom of Winnie's basket; but 
 not for worlds would they have thought of search- 
 ing it. Taey had known her from her infancy ; and 
 though their occupation was one but too well cal- 
 culated to render their hearts somewhat flinty, 
 thej could not help being touched by the girl's 
 derotedness to the long-incarcerated captive. 
 
 OiJ age is naturally— and we had almost said 
 'lecessarily selGsh. This is probably a well-meant 
 dispensation of heaven ; for it would be too much 
 lor old age to bare the cares of others to attend to 
 as well as its own. Thus, with all his affection 
 for his granddaughter, ilr. Barrington did not 
 think quite so much as he ought to have done 
 whether she were not depriving herself of many 
 necessaries in order to furnish him with comforts : 
 be did not even reflect that she must work most 
 marvellously hard with the needle, and ply it most 
 profitably likewise, to maintain him with all he 
 wanted. Things appeared to go on well enough 
 in this respect : she never complained — on the 
 contrary, she always assured him that she lilted 
 work and could obtain plenty of it, as well as a 
 fair remuneration ; so that he who knew nothing 
 about such things was contented and satisfied. It 
 is true that ho sometimes read in a weekly liberal 
 newspaper how milliners and slop-workers toiled 
 from morning to night for a few pence ; and then 
 'je would thank heaven "that his dear little 
 "Winnie belonged to a superior order of seam- 
 stresses and knew no such miseries as those !" 
 
 Winifred always begged her grandiire to main- 
 tain the utmost secrecy with reference to his re* 
 sources— and to drop a hint that his lawyer con- 
 tinued to make him an allowance; and this re- 
 commendation was backed by the little remnant of 
 pride which had survived all his misfortunes. The 
 gaol' officials and the prisoners generally believed, 
 therefore, that Mr. Barrington still received the 
 guinea a week, with an occasional five-pound note, 
 from ilr. Timperley : yet even with that impres- 
 sion, and in the absence ot the knowledge that 
 Winifred absolutely furnished everything, there 
 was still su^cient iu her devotednesa to her grand- 
 sire to melt the meet hardened hearts and subdue 
 the most libertine. Indeed it appeared to be a 
 sort of general understanding that old Barrington's 
 granddaughter was to be treated with the utmost 
 respect, and that nowhere in the prison an insult- 
 ing look was to be thrown upon her nor an im- 
 proper word breathed in her ears. We may add 
 that her own demeanour tended in the first in- 
 stance to command, and subsequently to ensure 
 the continuance of this air of respect towards 
 herself : her looks were modest and retiring : she 
 seemed as if she had never breathed the contami- 
 nating atmosphere of a gaol; and when seated 
 with her grandfather in the common ward, where 
 a hundred captives besides himself were congre. 
 gated— some the very refuse of society— she looked 
 like a lily that had sprung up in a brake amidst 
 rank and noiious weeds, without being choked, in- 
 jured, or impaired by their vicinage. 
 
 "Did llr. Timperley bring any good news?" 
 inquired Winifred, when she had embraced the 
 old man with that vehement ardour of affection to 
 which we have already alluded. 
 
 '■ My case will come on again next Term — 
 
 that is in another month," responded Barrington. 
 " I am sure it "will be settled then, Winnie— and 
 we shall be rich— Oh, so rich, you cannot con- 
 ceive ! W n I get the decision in my favour, 
 
 ' you shall ; -, and hire a beautiful house 
 
 j No, I forgot 1 we shall have plenty of houses 
 of oar own : but you shall go and buy me a car- 
 riage—for i have sworn I will never leave these 
 walls unless in my carriage. And you shall have 
 such beautiful clothes and such fine jewellery ! — 
 
 i and won't poor Gus be pleased when you write 
 and tell him that he is to come home as quick 
 as be can to be rich for the rest of his life ? And 
 
 I then you shall never do another stitch of work, 
 unless it is some delicate embroidery, or something 
 of that sort. And we shall have plenty of ser- 
 vants, and a good cellar, Winnie ; and then there 
 will be no need to smuggle a little brandy for your 
 old grandfather at the bottom of your basket. Oh, 
 we shall be so happy !— and we shall quite forget 
 that we ever saw the inside of this odious 
 place I" 
 
 Winifred forced herself to look much happier 
 than she really felt : for at the approach of every 
 Term, ever since she could remember, she had 
 heard her grandfather speak in the same strain ; 
 and the vision had yet to be realized. Hope itself 
 had grown sick within her ; and though she under- 
 stood but very little indeed of her grandsire's 
 affairs, yet she could not help fancying that if he 
 had really justice on his side, the law could 
 scarcely be so unjust as to keep him thus long 
 without his rights. But she saw that it cheered 
 and gladdened him to indulge in those bright 
 prospects ; and even if they were all a delusion, 
 she would ratb'^r that the poor old wanderer over 
 life's vast dese-t should revel in the visions of 
 oases, splendid cities, and elysian spots, which the 
 mirage conjured up, than that he should behold 
 naught but one continuous dreariness of waste 
 before him. 
 
 " Timperley must have thought me mad," con- 
 tinned Barrington, " to suppose for an instant that 
 I would agree to surrender two-thirds of all my 
 claim as a means of effecting a compromise, No, 
 no ! I will not do it ! I should still leave those 
 Dalhams rich ; and it b requisite to appease my 
 vindictive feelings, as well as to satisfy my own 
 sense ot retributive justice, that I should im- 
 poverish them. Cursed— hated Dalhams ! Winnie, 
 my darling, you must abhor and loathe the very 
 
 The girl gased for a few moments with an ex- 
 pression of consternation and affright upon her 
 grandfather's countenance : and her lips even 
 wavered as if a bushed shriek were passing behind 
 them. But with a powerful effort she curbed, con- 
 quered, if not absolutely crushed her emotions; 
 and she said gently, " Grandfather, those are 
 strong terms for one Christian to use in respect 
 
 She saw that the old man was about to burst 
 forth again in a passionate tirade against his op- 
 ponents ; and in order to turn the conversation, 
 she suddenly assumed a joyous look, as she said, . 
 " Oh, grandfather ! you know not for what nice 
 young ladies I am working at this moment. They 
 live up at St. John's Wood. You remember Mr. 
 Williams, that baker who was here some time and
 
 BEAUIT ASD TLSASITBE. 
 
 who went through the Insokenls' Court ? Well, 
 he is established again in Camden Town : be sup- 
 plies Sidney Villa with bread — he spoke to one of 
 the servants— a nice woman, name'* Eachel— on 
 my behalf: Eachel spoke to her youL mistresses 
 —and they have given me work, '^r'l should 
 rather say that one of them has— Miss Evelyn: 
 for her cousin, Miss Lister, does not appear to 
 trouble berseif much about such matters." 
 
 "Well, my dear Winnie," said the old man, "I 
 am glad to hear that thiogs are going on so well. 
 I am sure you will not have to work much longer ; 
 for all the new affidavits add briefs will be ready 
 in a few days— the case will come on next Term — 
 and I shouldn't at all wonder if we eat our Christ- 
 mas dinner outside these walls. Then 1 tell you 
 what we will do, Winnie," conlinued the old man, 
 hia usually wan countenance lighting up with joy 
 at the idea. "We will regale all the prisoners 
 with roast beef, plum-pudding, and strong beer at 
 our own expense ; and we will make every heart 
 happy throughout this place, where I am certain 
 w« shall not be at the time. No ! for my business 
 must be finished next Term." 
 
 Winifred tutored her own countenance to look 
 radiant with hope likewise : but in comparison 
 with the real feeling that was in her heart, it was 
 aa the effulgence of a brilliant chandelier in a 
 nobleman's mansion to the feeble sickly glimmer- 
 ing of the solitary candle in the working-man's 
 garret. 
 
 The young girl having assured herself that her 
 grandsire possessed every requisite for the day, 
 took her leave of him,— embracing the old man 
 with all the vehemence of aifection as before : but 
 as she passed from the prison irto the street, a 
 shade came over her countenance -and she mur- 
 mured to herself, " Oh, how I am' deceiving him ! 
 Good heavens, how he is deceived !" 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 THE DEEAM. 
 
 Thb incidents which we are now about to relate, 
 occurred on the day following that one of which 
 we have been speaking in the previous chapter. 
 
 We again introduce the reader to Sidney Villa. 
 Agnes rose at a somewhat early hour, as usual, — ■ 
 leaving her cousin fast asleep in the couch wliich 
 they jointly occupied. The beautiful Miss Evelyn 
 was more than ordinarily cautious in not disturb- 
 ing Floribel ; for she had reason to believe that 
 her cousin had passed a restless night, and she 
 therefore considerately left her to the enjoyment 
 of the profound repose in which she was evidently 
 now steeped. 
 
 Agnes walked forth into the garden, until 
 Eachel came to announce that breakfast was 
 served : then the charming maiden stole to the 
 bed-chamber to take a peep at Floribel : but the 
 latter was still slumbering ; and Agnes still for- 
 bore from disturbing her. It was not until past 
 ten o'clock that Miss Lister awoke ; and then she 
 would partake of nothing but a cup of tea ; for 
 •hs said that she felt indisposed— and she looked 
 
 "My dear c 
 
 a," said Agnes, sitting down by 
 
 the side of the bed, and looking anxiously upon 
 Floribel's countenance, '' I am afraid you passed 
 a disturbed night— indeed I know that you 
 did " 
 
 "Ah, I recollect!" interrupted Floribel, a dead 
 pallor seizing upon her cheeks. " I awoke with a 
 sudden start — 1 alarmed you— you asked what was 
 the matter with me — but I forget the reply that I 
 gave." 
 
 " You did not answer me for some minutes," 
 responded Agnes ; " and I saw by the rushlight 
 which was burning in the room, that you seemed 
 terror-stricken : in fact, my dear Floribel, your 
 lips were white — but as I felt convinced that you 
 were labouring under the influence of some dread- 
 ful dream, I did not choose to question you any 
 more on the subject." 
 
 " Yes, I remember," said Floribel : " I told 
 you after a little while that it was a frightful 
 dream !" 
 
 Miss Lister now reflected deeply for upwards of 
 a minute ; and Agnes, watching her countenance 
 with a look of anxiety and concern, saw that her 
 cousin was still suS'ering under the influence of 
 that tery painful vision. 
 
 " I cannot understand how such a dream 
 could possibly have haunted me," said Floribel, at 
 length breaking silence and speaking in a low 
 thoughtful tone. " It must have been on account 
 of that romance which I was-reading just before 
 we went to bed : and yet there was nothing in its 
 pages to find so horrible a reflection in my brain 
 during the slumbers of the night. No— it must 
 have bad another source," she added, mournfully. 
 
 " Tell me this dream of your's, my sweet cousin," 
 said Agnes. " Not that I ever attach any degree 
 of importance to dreams " 
 
 " Ob, no ! I should hope not !" exclaimed 
 Floribel eagerly, though she seemed as if she were 
 otherwise impressed inwardly. " But explain to 
 me, dear cousin, what you think is the cause of 
 them. You have read more learned books than 
 ever I have troubled myself with ; and you are 
 generally able to give a reason for things of this 
 kind." 
 
 Agnes saw that her cousin had some very 
 serious and particular motive for soliciting infor- 
 mation on such a subject ; and she meditated fur 
 a few instants upon the nature of the answer 
 which she should give. 
 
 " I will try and explain," she said, " what my 
 notion is of dreams. The mind, you know, 
 Floribel, never sleeps : the memory is ever awake. 
 But this mind is not always in the same state. 
 Sometimes— indeed generally— when we are awake, 
 it is under the guiding power of reason ; and 
 then we can think of what we choose and shape 
 our thoughts according to our will. But when 
 we are asleep, that power of volition sleeps also : 
 the reasoning faculty, so to speak, is in abeyance. 
 But as the mind sleeps nut, and most ever go on 
 thinking— for thought is identical with its own 
 vitality— it runs riot and revels in all kinds of 
 vague, contused, inconsistent, or eccentric ideas. 
 Thus, when we are awake, and the reasoning 
 power holds its sceptre, our trains of thought are 
 rational : and we do not heap together a mass of 
 incongruous ideas. But when we are asleep, and 
 reason has for the time-being abdicated its throti », 
 the mind cannot discipline its reflections, but
 
 AOKES; OB, BBAUTT AHD PLKASUBB. 
 
 I groapi together all sorts oF images and impres- 
 aiODS, without sequence— without method." 
 
 *' Then, according to your theory, Agnes," said 
 Floribel, " the mind must be alnsys thinking. 
 And yet we do not dream all night long." 
 
 " There you are wrong, my dear cousin," replied 
 Miss ETelyn : " we do dream all night long: but 
 when we awake in the morning we only recollect 
 those dreams which were most vivid and impres- 
 aive at the time. Have you never felt, when 
 slowly awakening, that the last of a train of 
 thoughts seemed to be just gliding out of your 
 mind ? — and then you could not remember what 
 they were. This was the end of a dream But I 
 have something more to say upon the subject. The 
 mind is stored with millions of images and im- 
 pressiocs, received from books, conversation, per- 
 
 ' sonal experiences, and all external circumstances. 
 As a matter of course this immense crowd of 
 
 I images and impressions is infinitely varied— com- 
 prising the beautiful and the horrible, the pleasing 
 and the painful, the enrapturing and the shocking. 
 When we sleep, the mind— for want of the active 
 wholesome impulse which our own volition and 
 reasoning power give to it when we are awake — 
 plunges as it were into that vortex of varied 
 images and conflicting impressions, and conjures 
 them up at random. Nevertheless, they some- 
 times appear to weave themselves together in a 
 sort of natural sequence; so that the dreamer 
 fancies himself to be hurried through a train of 
 successive adventures. And observe ! when we 
 sleep the mind is always more likely to reproduce 
 the latest or the most prominent impressions made 
 upon it during the day ; so that we sef::^ 
 enact in our slumber that which we performed 
 whsTi we were awake ; but the circumstances so re 
 enaowd are usually exaggerated, either in thei: 
 beauty or their horror, their pleasure or their pain 
 fulness, by the fantastic aberrations of the min< 
 when the reasoning power is dormant. Tou can 
 in a moment understand how erratic and wayward 
 is the mind when the volition slumbers or the 
 reasoning power dozes ; for even if when wide 
 awake we abandon ourselves to reverie, we soon 
 find ourselves falling into a train of fantastic 
 ideas, for the very silliness of which we blush the 
 moment we start up from that reverie again." 
 
 Floribel listened with a deep attention to thesa 
 explanations which Agnes gave so lucidly, and yet 
 «itb s certain modest basbfulness as if she were 
 ftfraid of incurring the suspicion that she sought 
 to make a display of her superior intelligenc*. 
 ■When she bad ceased speaking. Miss Lister re- 
 flected deeply for upwards of a minute ; and then 
 she said, with a sudden brigbtening-up of the 
 countenance, " Well, if it be so, and if dreams are 
 only fantastic incongruities — you must further 
 prove the excellence of this theory of your's when 
 you have beard the vision which so much dis- 
 turbed me last night." 
 
 Agnes prepared to listen with attention; and 
 Ploribel commenced her explanations in the fol- 
 lowing manner:— 
 
 "1 dreamt that it was in the middle of the day, 
 and that 1 had just returned home from making 
 some purchases at the West End. I fancied that 
 amongst other things I had bought a new bonnet, 
 which 1 wire on my return to the villa. Me- 
 thought that on entering our toilet-chamber, I 
 
 found you in one of those simple light dresses 
 which you are so fond of wearing ; and you imme- 
 diately began to express your regret that I should 
 have purchased a bonnet which you declared to be 
 much too gay and flaunting for a young unmarried 
 lady of my age. We had some little argument on 
 the subject ; and I remember that I was so angry 
 I at length tossed down the splendid bonnet on 
 the carpet. Then I fancied that Eachel entered 
 to say that some unknown friend had sent us each 
 a present ; and we desired that those presents 
 might be brought into the room. There was at 
 this point some little confusion in my dream ; for 
 I cannot precisely recollect how the objects were 
 conveyed into the apartment : but the next phase 
 of my vision is most vividly depicted in my 
 memory." 
 
 Here Floribel shuddered perceptibly; and it 
 was with more curiosity than Agnes was wont 
 ordinarily to experience, that she awaited the con- 
 tinuation of the narrative. 
 
 " I next fancied," proceeded Floribel, " that you 
 were standing at the toilet-table, preparing to 
 open a beautiful box, elaborately carved, and 
 inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It seemed to be of 
 ebony, and was about the siie of a work-box. At 
 the same time I was preparing to open a very 
 large box which had been deposited on the floor. 
 I thought it was of a singular shape: it was as 
 long as a co£Sn, but yet not of a coffin's form : it 
 seemed to be a very lengthy trunk, but remarkably 
 narrow. 1 was full of wonder as to what it could 
 possibly contain : but I conjectured that it might 
 be some exquisitely modelled statue. I opened 
 it ; — and, O Agnes ! a hideous death's head grinned 
 up at me from the isterior of that box. It was a 
 skeleton from around the bleached bones of which 
 I had drawn away the winding sheet ! At the 
 same instant you were taking forth from the 
 ebony box a simple chaplet or wreath of flowers ; 
 and it was then that I awoke with a start— and I 
 think with a cry— from the strange and frightful 
 dream." 
 
 The countenance of Agnes, which had for a few 
 moments expressed horror at a portion of the 
 recital, now became deeply serious. She reflected 
 profoundly ; and Floribel wbtohed her with atten- 
 tion. There was a long interval of silence : and 
 it was at last broken by Miss Lister, who said, 
 " Is there anything in this dream, Agnes, to 
 change your opinion in respect to the theory which 
 you just now advanced ?" 
 
 Agnes started on being thus addressed ; and for 
 a moment she flung a strange look upon Floribel, 
 —a look in which compassion, astonishment, pain, 
 and dismay were singularly blended. 
 
 "I can almost coojecture what is passing in 
 your mind," said Miss Lister. " Tou see that the 
 dream has produced a certain effect upon me ; and 
 I will candidly admit that for a while it wore— 
 perhaps still wears a significant importance. That 
 is why I asked you your opinion of dreams; 
 for I knew that you were better skilled in such 
 subjects than 1 myself could possibly be. Yet I 
 am not altogether withoat common sense. I may 
 be thoughtless at times— it is my nature perhaps; 
 and still that dream had for me a typical or . 
 allegorical significancy." 
 
 " Do not think so, my sweet cousin !" ezclaimeii 
 Agnes, pained on Floribel's account for the tiirn \
 
 OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASUKE. 
 
 
 ■^'hich the eonversfttion was now taking. " Your 
 dream only tended to corroborate my theory to 
 *he effect that visioDB are the fantastic grouping 
 uf certain images and impressions when the mind 
 is no longer uo ier the control of the reasoning 
 power." 
 
 " And yet you yourself have shown," said 
 Floribel, " that those images and impressions 
 themselves must in the first instance have had 
 reference to real facts and veritable circumstances. 
 In a word, my dear Agnes, was I not led 
 through the medium of a dream to appreciate the 
 difference betttiit our characters sad dispositions? 
 I had purchased the fine bonnet for which you re- 
 monstrated : a gift of a simple chaplet of fiowers 
 • as seat to yourself— while to me was forwarded 
 the hideous proof that all earthly splendour and 
 pomp, beauty and pride, must end in a ghastly 
 skeleton at last !" 
 
 No. 8.— Agses. 
 
 Though Agnes would hav» avoided, if possib^, 
 this climax to the previous subject, yet she wi* 
 now seized with a sentiment of joy that her cous-.« 
 should have thus interpreted her dream ; ao i 
 throwing her arms round Floribel's neck, she ex- 
 claimed, " Oh ! without entering into the theory of 
 dreams, believe that this one has been sent to yoa 
 for a good purpose! Yes, my sweet cousin! — all of 
 which we are proud in this world — as well aa all 
 that may flatter our pride — becomes vanity at 
 last !" 
 
 Miss Evelyn was indeed as much surprised a3 
 rejoiced to find that her cousin had taken tha 
 vision so seriously, and that she had bo willingly, 
 as it appeared, accepted the illustration which 
 forced itself upon her. But still, in another sense, 
 Agnes was pained : her natural generosity and 
 modesty were hurt by the idea of receiving the 
 meed of compliment to the prejudice as it were of
 
 AOSES; OK, EEArXT AJTB PLE ABUSE. 
 
 the couain whom she loved: fur the sioiple wreath 
 of flowers was in strong contrast with the ghastly 
 grinning skeleton i 
 
 Floribel now Beeme4 oesirous to abandon the 
 topic : she had felt the necessity of relieving her 
 mind of the species of weight which the dream 
 had left upon it ; but when this task was accom- 
 plished, she was equally anxious to turn away 
 from a disagreeable subject. Agnes was also 
 I-ady to direct the discourse into a more cheerful 
 channel; and she remained for an hour by the 
 bedside, until Floribel signified her intention to 
 rise and dress herself. 
 
 Agnes returned into the garden to give way to 
 ter reflections. The dream appeared to her most 
 extraordinary ; for according to her own theory, 
 there must have previously been the lurking con- 
 viction in Fioribel's mind that she was too much 
 tidictcd to the vanities and frivolities of life : or 
 how could the impression have been conjured up 
 in her brain when she slept ? and how could it 
 have embodied itself in the form of a fantastic 
 allegory ? That Floribel comprehended and appre- 
 ciated the true character and disposi'ion of Agnes, 
 was likewise apparent ; or else this idea could not 
 '.ave also found its typical representation amidst 
 t ic phases of the vision. Tijus, for some personal 
 r.'asons, Agnes was pained by the incident ; but 
 I'r other considerations she was rejoiced, inas- 
 Muoh as she sincerely hoped the dream would 
 ; roduce a lasting beneficial effect on the mind of 
 :':oribel. 
 
 At about one o'clock in the afternoon of that 
 d y, "Winifred Barrington called at Sidney Villa to 
 d. liver some work which she had finished, and to 
 r ceive some other materials to make up. Floribel 
 wr.s now lying indolently upon the sofa in the 
 I udoir : Agnes was engaged in reading some in. 
 t^ructive work. "Winifred was introduced into 
 i;.e presence ef the cousins,— Floribel taking little 
 i.nice of her, while Agnes addressed her in the 
 kindest manner. "Winifred was by no means 
 beautiful ; she could scarcely even be called pretty : 
 but her appearance was very interesting. There 
 iras a mildness in her blue eyes, and there was a 
 eeftness in her voice, which went irresistibly to the 
 heart that beat with generous sympathies. And 
 CJch a heart was that of Agnes. She had been 
 tiild by Kachel that "Winifred was an orphan, and 
 t'lat she was devoted to an aged grandsire who had 
 long been the inmate of a debtor's goal; and this 
 mrrative was in itself sufficient to enlist Miss 
 Evelyn's warmest interest on Miss Barrington's 
 lehalf. Indeed, tears of gratitude came into "\yiDi- 
 ■rcd's eyes when she found how kindly Miss Eve- 
 -vu spoke to her — how the young lady expressed 
 the utmost satisfaction at the work which "Winnie 
 i;ad brought home — how she could not think of pay- 
 jog so moderate a demand as that which the seam- 
 stress made for her labour— but how she insisted 
 i:pon doubling the price— and how with the most 
 ( jnsiderate delicacy she turned aside to wrap up 
 ibe mocoy hostily in a little piece of paper, and 
 •lien gently glided the packet into "Winifred's 
 aand 
 
 "Hbto you walked all the way from your abo5e, 
 Miss Barrington ?" inquired Agnes. 
 
 The response was iu the affirmative. 
 
 ""What! with that large band-box and bundle?" 
 o-c)aimc-d Miss Evelyn. " Oh, then I am sure 
 
 you must stand in need of rest and refreshment — 
 and you shall have both !" 
 
 Ringing the bell. Miss Evelyn consigned Wini- 
 fred to the care of Kachel,— assuring the young 
 seamstress that by the time she had recruited her 
 strength the other materials which she had come 
 to fetch should bo in readiness for her. A hur- 
 riedly whispered instruction to Eichel from the 
 lips of Agnes, informed the good-hearted servant, 
 woman how Miss Barrington was to be treated : 
 she was not therefore taken to the kitchen, but 
 was conducted to the breakfast-parlour, where a 
 tray covered with refreshments was speedilv placed 
 before her. Miss Evelyn then purposely delayed 
 looking out the promised materials, in order that 
 "Winifred might have the longer interval to refresh 
 and rest herself. At length, when Agnes began 
 to address herself to that task, a visitress arrived 
 at the villa. This was Cicely Neale, who wa» 
 shown into the drawing-room; and thither Floribel 
 at once repaired, Agnes intimating that she would 
 follow in a few minutes. 
 
 Miss Lister was rejoiced that some one had 
 thus arrived to break in upon the gloomy feeling 
 which her dream had left behind it ; and the wel- 
 come she gave Miss Neale was therefore exceed- 
 ingly cordial. Cicely not merely owed a rail to 
 the cousins at Sidney Villa ; but she likewise had 
 a special object of her own to serve — namely, to 
 discover whether a certain person was indeed led 
 to visit at that place by any tender sentiment 
 and if so, to which of the two cousins his addresses 
 were being paid. We should observe that Cicely 
 knew nothing of the recent duel ; for the whis- 
 pered rumour thereof had extended but through- 
 out a very limited circle- and Mr. Timperley had 
 said not a syllable upon the point to either his wife 
 or niece. 
 
 After some general conversation with Floribel, 
 Miss Neale thought of turning the discourse iu 
 the channel which she hoped might serve her pur- 
 pose. She began by asking Miss Lister if she did 
 not feel dull living in such a comparatively secluded 
 neighbourhood ? — to which question Floribel re- 
 plied, with a languid air, that the time certainly 
 hung heavy on her hands occasionally, but that 
 they were not without visitors. Cicely, with a 
 smile, begged Miss Lister to run over the cata. 
 logue of these visitors, — adding, " You must not 
 think mo impertinent : but as I mean, with your, 
 permission, to call upon you frequently— and as we 
 are to be very great friends, you know — I am 
 anxious to learn whom I may have a chance of 
 encountering here." 
 
 •' Many, if not most of our friends— especially 
 the lady-ones," responded Floribel, " are likewise 
 acquaintances of Mrs. Timperley. But I think 
 wo have some few who are not known to your 
 uncle and aunt. For instance, there is Lord 
 Ifervyn," she continued, — " the eldest son of the 
 E.irl of "tTiUsborough " 
 
 " What sort of a person is he ?" asked Cicely. 
 
 " Not a very bright young nobleman," replied 
 Floribel : " he has not much to say for himself — 
 and is very fond of repeating his words. The 
 Hon. Mr. Clifford is infinitely more agreeable. 
 Then there is Mr. Lowdcn— very well connected 
 and very insipid. "We used to be visited also b} 
 
 thf Hon. Mr. Hardress Ah! and then there 
 
 is Mr. Do Vire, who though only a government
 
 AOSE3 ; OE, EEAUTT A»D PLKASUEE. 
 
 clerk, is certainly a very nice young gentleman. 
 He lives close by. As for Mr. Harclress, I do not 
 tiiinK he will ever make his appearance at Sidney 
 Vina again " 
 
 " Is he ill ? or has he fjone abroad ?" inquired 
 Miss Neale ; " or what else is the reason that de- 
 prives you of so aristocratic a visitor ?" 
 
 •• Hush !" said Horibel : " I hear Agnes' foot- 
 steps—and she dues not like me to indulge in what 
 she would call gossiping." 
 
 Miss Evelyn now made her appearance, — 
 having taken the promised materials to Winnie 
 Barrington, who had already enjoyed a good hour's 
 rest at the hospitable villa. But Bachel still de- 
 tained her there a little longer in conversation ; so 
 that Cicely Neale presently took her departure be- 
 fore Winifred. 
 
 We must now leave them for a brief space, 
 while we transfer the attention of the reader to 
 Beimont Cottage; for on this particular day of 
 whicQ we are writing, a perfect cloud of incidents, 
 all or greater or lesser importance, as will pre- 
 •entlv oe seen, were destined to take place, cither 
 simultaneously or in rapid succession. 
 
 It was about one o'clock, when Mr- Timperley 
 called, according to appointment, at Belmont Cot- 
 tage. He found Mrs, De Vere awaiting his arri- 
 val ; and tilie instant Margaret had retired and the 
 door had closed, the lady said to him, " We must 
 be quick with our discourse, Mr. Timperley : for 
 Cbarl<-s intimated in the morning that he should 
 be home very early this afternoon in order to take 
 me out for a walk. You have not come in a cab, 
 I see " 
 
 " No— I rode in the omnibus to Camden Town," 
 replied Mr. Timperley; " and I walked thence to 
 Belmont Cottage. What tidings have you for 
 me p Did you question your eon ?" 
 
 " I have but little more to add to what you 
 already know," rejoined Mrs. De Vere. " It 
 almost seems as if Charles had an aversion to be 
 catechised on the subject — which is only natural 
 indeed, for he looked upon the duel with the 
 greatest horror. He tells me that during the 
 last three months he has occasionally met Mr. 
 Hardress, who was always very civil and courteous 
 towards him ; but he assures me that the lady con- 
 cerning whom the quarrel took place, was a per- 
 fect stranger to him." 
 
 " To whom ? — to jour son ?" demanded Mr. 
 Timperley. 
 
 " Yes— a stranger to Charles," replied Mrs. De 
 Vere. "I have now no more to tell you. It 
 is quite evident that the dispute had nothing to 
 do with either of the cousins at Sidney Villa ; or 
 else Charles would have at once confessed it." 
 
 Mr. Timperley rtllected for a few moments ; 
 and then he said, '• What if Charles were io be 
 appointed junior attache to some foreign Em- 
 bassy—or to be removed to the storekeeper's office 
 ■it Portsmouth, Plymouth, or some place remote 
 :rom London ? Do you not think it would be 
 
 " Yes !" exclaimed Mrs. De Vere, vehemently 
 iud gratefully ; " for a thousand reasons it would ! 
 i ho idea of coming to iondon never pleased me: 
 t what could 1 do ? His lordship insisted on 
 iding for Charles in his present position ; and 
 ow, Mr. Timperley, how imperious his lord- 
 in having his will obeyed." 
 
 "Do you think," inquired the lawyer, " that tho 
 friendship between the two young men will be re- 
 newed after the duel— and that it will even be 
 cemented by the very fact itself ?" 
 
 "At all events, Mr. Timperley," replied Mrs. 
 De Vere, " these are casualties to be guarded 
 against. You have seen his lordship ?" 
 
 " I saw him last evening," responded the solici- 
 tor. " We talked the matter over : I said that I 
 was to see you again today, and I would inquire 
 whether you had any objection to either one of 
 the propositions which I have just made on behalf 
 of your sou?— You have none ; and therefore in a 
 few days you may be prepared to learn that some 
 better appointment has been procured for him — 
 but at ft iliatanca from London." 
 
 " Oh ! assure his lordship that I shall only be 
 too grateful !" cried Mrs. De Vere. 
 
 Mr. Timperley rose to take his departure ; and 
 recollecting something, he asked, "Do you know 
 where Sir John Dalbam's villa is situated? I am 
 aware that he has some such pretty little place out 
 in this neighbourhood : I called at his town resi- 
 dence last evening, aud learnt that he was at St. 
 John's Wood. I want to see him— and I may as 
 well kill two birds with one stone." 
 
 Mrs. De Vere happened to know where Sir 
 John Dalbam's suburban villa was situated, about 
 a mile distant from her own cottage ; and she de- 
 scribed the route to Mr. Timperley. He accord- 
 ingly took his leave. 
 
 Mrs. De Vere saw by the time-piece that it was 
 now two o'clock; and she went up-staira to put on 
 her bonnet and shawl— for at this hour Churlea 
 was to return home. Scarcely had she finished 
 her toilet, and descended to look forth from the 
 front door to see if that son whom she so dearly 
 loved was as yet coming up the road, when sho 
 beheld Mrs. Chicklado approaching. This woman 
 was even more flauntingly dressed than when we 
 described her interviews with Cicely Neale ; anj 
 she affected a juvenility of apparel which was ab- 
 solutely ridiculous. Sho had on a large straw hat 
 with flowing ribbons ; and she was bedizened with 
 jewellery — most of it of a sufficiently trumpery 
 description. Mrs De Vere was recoiling in min- 
 gled disgust and terror from the threshold of the 
 door,— when Mrs.Chicklade, with a smile, or rather 
 insoleut leer upon her countenance, motioned her 
 to stop. Mrs. De Vere was paralysed by the 
 mysterious power that the vile woman wielded 
 over her; and though all trembling, she was trans- 
 fixed to the threshold of the open front door of the 
 cottage. 
 
 " I am not coming to trouble you to-day," said 
 Mrs. Cbicklade, stopping at the gate of the fence 
 which bordered the little front garden: "I have 
 got other game ia hand. But I don't admire 
 pride — and yon were on the point of running in. 
 doors without speaking to me." 
 
 Mrs. De Vere was infinitely relieved when sho 
 found that the woman was not bent upon paying 
 Belmont Cottage a visit ; but still she could not 
 give utterance to a word — for she could not bring 
 herself to say anything courteous, and she dared 
 not speak in an opposite sense. 
 
 "Pride indeed!" ejaculated Mrs. Cbicklade, 
 determined to give herself airs and take offence at 
 Mrs. De Vere's inclination to retreat into the house. 
 " I should like to know what reason "
 
 CO 
 
 AosEs; on, BEACrr ihd pleasurb. 
 
 " HuBh, for heaven's sake !" interrupted Mrs. 
 I;eVere: "the servants will overhear you! — my 
 Son will he here in a moment !" 
 
 •' And who cares about your servants or your 
 eon ?" cried the insolent woman. " If I thought 
 fit, and had time, I would walk in and use the 
 
 hous 
 
 
 "Never!" ejaculated Mrs. DeVere, now worked 
 up to a pitch bordering upon frenzy. ""Why do 
 you torment me thus ? Have I not dealt libsrally 
 towards you ?" 
 
 " Yes— but the last time I was here you dared 
 to threaten me," replied Mrs. Chicklade, who took 
 a malignant pleasure in torturing the poor lady. 
 " It is all very well for you to give yourself airs : 
 but remember !" — and here she added some words 
 in a very low voice and with a fiend-like sardonism 
 
 Mrs. De Vere, already very pale, now became 
 absolutely ghastly; and she staggered back a pace 
 or two, so that it was only by a sudden effort she 
 could prevent herself from falling. Mrs. Chick- 
 lade gave utterance to a malignant laugh ; and as 
 if satisfied with the amount of pain that she had 
 inflicted, she rapidly continued her way. Mrs. De 
 Vere, without again glancing along the road in 
 search of her son, retreated into the parlour ; and 
 sinking upon the sofa, gave way to her lamenta- 
 tions. In the bitterness of her grief she was so 
 completely off her guard that she forgot her moans 
 and sobbings and her impassioned ejaculations 
 might be overheard by the cook or housemaid, if 
 either happened to be nigh : but fortunately for 
 ber they were both beyond earshot at the time. 
 
 " Wretched, infamous woman !" ejaculated Mrs. 
 De Vere ; " evil genius that has crossed my path 1 
 fatal spectre that seems doomed to haunt me ! Ob, 
 if ever there were a moment when I felt inclined 
 to do some desperate deed to rid myself for ever 
 of your persecutions— it is now !" 
 
 " For God's sake, my dear mother, what is the 
 matter?" asked Charles, as he suddenly rushed 
 into the room. "But I need scarcely inquire! 
 Ihat hag has been here again! I met her— I 
 knew her despite her tawdry finery ! Methought 
 that she leered impudently upon me ! Oh, my 
 dear mother ! there is some mystery attached to 
 this wretch!— it is not through mere charity that 
 you have assisted her — you must know, as well as 
 I now do, that she is no deserving object for such 
 bounty !— and yet she comes to you !" 
 
 "It is nothing, my dear boy she did not 
 
 come to me— I declare positively she did not!" 
 exclaimed Mrs. De Vere, speaking vehemently. 
 " I was thinking of other things " 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear mother !" interrupted 
 Claries, deeply distressed : " but this is evasion 
 on your port— though doubtless for a kind purpose. 
 My car caught the words which you were utter- 
 ing : they were words of terrible import and, 
 
 Oh, my dear mother ! it could have been no ordi- 
 nary provocation that evoked such language from 
 the lips of one so good, so kind, so amiable as you 
 
 " My dear boy," answered Mrs. De Vere, even 
 more distressed than her son, and terribly hewil. 
 dered whot reply to give,—" there are dark mo- 
 ments that come over me — and in those moods I 
 Bcarcelj know what I say ! AVords over which I 
 have no control escape my lips— and then I am 
 
 cruelly distressed to think that I could have been 
 so unguarded — eo foolish !" 
 
 " Well, my dear mother," interrupted Charlea, 
 unwilling to inflict additional anguish on bis be- 
 loved parent, though he was very far from satis- 
 fied with the excuses which she had just made, — 
 " let u9 say no more upon the subject." 
 
 " No, not another word !" ciied Mrs. De Vere, 
 as if immensely relieved by what her son had just 
 said. "The dark mood has passed now — I am 
 once again contented— tranquillized— happy— for 
 you are with me ! You see that I am all ready to 
 accompany you in the pleasant walk which we 
 promised ourselves for this afternoon,— and now, 
 my dearest Charles, let me not behold a shade 
 upon your countenance— for you shall see none on 
 
 " Oh, I would do anything to render you happy, 
 my dear mother!" exclaimed young De Vere, 
 affectionately embracing his parent. " Come, let 
 us sally forth," he added, assuming a cheerful 
 tone : " the weather is beautiful— it is the delicioua 
 autumn season of the year- and the fresh air will 
 do you good." 
 
 The mother and son accordingly walked forth 
 together, — not repairing towards the Kegent'e 
 Park, which was their usual lounge— but proceed- 
 ing in the contrary direction, so as to get as mucb 
 as possible into the most secluded spots. 
 
 We must now return to Miss Neale — who, is 
 we have stated, took her departure from Sidney 
 Villa before Winifred Barrington had finished the 
 conversation in which Rachel was detaining her 
 in the parlour while Cicely bad been engaged with 
 the two young ladies in the drawing-room. Mrs. 
 Timperley had brought Miss Neale in her carriage 
 as far as the Zoological Gardens in the Kegent'e 
 Park- which the lawyer's wife, with a lady-friend, 
 had gone to visit. Cicely was to rejoin Mrs. Tim- 
 perley there : but on issuing forth from Sidney 
 Villa, she found that she had still a good hour to 
 dispose of. Indeed she had mistaken the time — 
 or else she would have prolonged her call upon the 
 two cousins. Having certain affairs occupying 
 her mind. Cicely was in no mood to roam about 
 with two elderly ladies, looking at wild beasts, 
 monkeys, reptiles, and birds : she would rather be 
 alone with her own thoughts. She therefore de- 
 cided upon rambling a httle while in the neigh- 
 bourhood where she now found herself; and per- 
 haps to this conclusion she was somewhat impelled 
 by the hope of falling in with the individual 
 whose image was uppermost in her mind — the one 
 concerning whom she had received certain infor- 
 mation from Mrs. Chicklade, and relative to whom 
 likewise she had endeavoured to obtain intelli- 
 gence at Sidney Villa. 
 
 Cicely had not gone very far ere she caught a 
 glimpse of a female figure which she thought was 
 familiar to her; still she could scarcely believe 
 that the old harridan bad gone to such an out- 
 rageous length as to deck herself with a large 
 straw hat and long streaming ribbons. But in a 
 few moments Miss Neale acquired the certainty 
 that it was indeed none other than Mrs. Chick- 
 lade ; and an expression of bitter annoyance swept 
 over the countenance of the young lady as she 
 murmured to herself, " The old wretch is deter- 
 mined to interfere in my affairs ! For what other 
 purpose could she possibly be here ?"
 
 AOWES ; OB, BBACTT ASB PLBAaUBX. 
 
 61 
 
 Oioelj was on the point of turning away and 
 proceeding in some other direction, so as to avoid 
 a meeting with Mrs. Chicklade,— when a second 
 thought struck her. 
 
 " If she persist in thus meddling with matters 
 which concern only myself, she will end by com- 
 promising me seriously. I have a difficult game 
 to play : it must be played well and prudently : a 
 single false step on my part, or any meddling 
 folly on the part of another, may destroy every- 
 thing ! Besides, to think that this vile wretch 
 should dare thrust herself forward ! No — by 
 heaven ! it shall be put an end to, I care not 
 how !" 
 
 Such -were the rapid musings of Cicely Neale ; 
 •nd when she arrived at this final decision, her 
 rich red lips were compressed as if with the firm 
 resoluteness that had taken possession of her soul. 
 She quickened her pace, and speedily came up 
 with Mrs, Chicklade. The old woman was nothing 
 abashed on perceiving Cicely : perhaps she rather 
 expected such a meeting than otherwise. 
 
 '* One word with you! — follow me !" said Miss 
 Neale in a peremptory and indeed imperious tone 
 — ns if it were she who had a right to command, 
 and as i*' so far from feeling that she was in the 
 old woman's power, it was she herself who in 
 reality had the means of coercion within her 
 reach. 
 
 S'je turned into a lane leading between some 
 fields which the hands of speculating builders had 
 not as yet begun to deface ; and Mrs. Chicklade 
 followed, until a sufficiently secluded spot for the 
 interview was reached. There Miss Neale sud- 
 denly stopped short ; and turning round upon Mrs. 
 Chicklade, she demanded in a resolute, almost 
 stern voice, " What are you doing in this neigh- 
 bourhood ?" 
 
 " I may as well ask what you yourself are 
 doing," replied Mrs. Chicklade insolently. " I 
 suppose the streets, roads, alleys, lanes, and other 
 thoroughfares of London and its neighbourhood 
 •re as open to me as they are to you " 
 
 "Cease this impertinence !" interrupted Cicely, 
 her large blue eyes, which were usually of a soft 
 eipression, now flashing the sudden fire of indigna- 
 tion. " All this jargon on your side would be very 
 well under ordinary circumstances : but it is other- 
 wise with you and me. I bade you beware, the 
 day before yesterday, how you ever again crossed 
 my path " 
 
 " And what if I care not for your threats ?— 
 what if I threaten in return ?" demanded Mrs. 
 Chicklade : but still she could not be altogether as 
 insolent as at this moment she wished; fur there 
 was something in the resolute looks of Cicely 
 Neale— something in the haughty carriage of that 
 fine tall form now drawn up to its full height 
 — which cowed and overawed the coarse vulgar 
 mind of the old woman. 
 
 " You have addressed mo in this language 
 before," responded Cicely; "and I have told you 
 that I am not moved by your threats. Tell the 
 tale if you will — and who will believe you? To 
 whom that I care about, can you obtain access 
 to tell your tale at all ? I who have experienced 
 so much, and have yet so much to do in the world, 
 am not to be intimidated by such a comparative 
 trifle as your menace. But observe ! — and under- 
 stand me well I I am vindictive, horribly vindic- 
 
 tive !— and if you dare again cross my path, I will 
 crush you as I would a worm ! Now you under- 
 stand how it is I am enabled to defy you, and 
 why it is that I do not dread you. By nature 
 good, kind, and generous— though I say it of my- 
 self—yet am I capable of any deed— aye, even the 
 eitremest, to rid myself of one who dares haunt 
 me, or who dares intrude upon the path which I 
 am pursuing !" 
 
 " Do you mean, Miss, that you would murder 
 me ?" asked Mrs. Chicklade, now actually fright- 
 ened at Cicely's flaming looks, sternly resolute 
 language, and dilati-ug form : for the old woman 
 felt herself to be attenuated and feeble— and there 
 she was, in a lonely spot, in the presence of a tall 
 fine-grown young person in all the vigour of health 
 and strength. 
 
 " Murder you ?" ejaculated Cicely. "Ask me 
 if I would place my heel upon the venomous 
 reptile that was insidiously gliding towards me 
 to plunge its fangs into my flesh ! — ask me, in a 
 word, if driven to the extremity of turning round 
 in self-defence, I would not do anything to rid 
 myself of one who seems resolved to become my 
 foe ! And this is not the first time 1 have said to 
 myself that you are a wretch of that odious nature 
 — a vile creature of that abominable stamp, which 
 would almost justify a crime as the means of rid- 
 ding one-self of you !" 
 
 While Cicely was thus speaking, in language 
 partly fierce, partly scornful, and partly abhorrent, 
 a suspicion stole into the mind of Mrs. Chicklade. 
 She knew herself to be a coward with all her inso- 
 lent bullying ; and she thought that Cicely, 
 having fathomed her real character, was endea- 
 vouring to overawe and intimidate her by meant 
 of threats which she was in reality altogether 
 incapable of carrying out. This idea, although 
 associated with her own innate consciousness of 
 cowardice, inspired the old woman with courage j 
 and she exclaimed, "Very well, Miss! you choose 
 to threaten me— you think fit to make me your 
 enemy ! I wanted to be your friend — I came up 
 into this neighbourhood to watch and observe 
 what might be going on, so that I might bring 
 you the necessary information : but as it is " 
 
 " Cease, vile woman !— irritate me no more 1" 
 ejaculated Cicely ; " or by heavens, I shall do you 
 a mischief ! Beware ! I give you due warning !" 
 —and the naturally mild blue eyes of Miss Neale 
 were now flashing forth vivid fires; while her fine 
 if not handsome courrtenance was distorted with 
 the fierceness of her emotions ; and her superb 
 bust was swelling and dilating as if it would 
 burst its prisonage of corset. " Beware, I repeat ! 
 — say not another word to irritate me — or as you 
 are now a living woman, you shall in a few 
 minutes be a dead one ! 1 will fly at your throat 
 — my fingers shall tighten like an iron vice upon 
 your neck 1 will throttle you !" 
 
 Mrs. Chicklade was now once again com- 
 pletely cowed, afi'righted, and overawed. Cicely 
 seemed to be inspired with the fury of a de- 
 moness ; and all the wickedness of a fiend was 
 for a few moments depicted on that countenance 
 which usually expressed far softer feelings, blendea 
 even, as we have formerly said, with a certain sub- 
 dued air of sensuousness. The old woman was 
 evidently bewildered for a brief space what to say 
 or how to act— until she was startled from her
 
 e-2 
 
 AOSIS; OK, BEArii- A5D rLT.i.SVB.B. 
 
 eoDSternstion by the sudden peremptory lilting of 
 Cicely's arm, accompanied by the abrupt utterance 
 of the words, " Tua have beard me— you utder- 
 stand me— and now begone!" 
 
 Mre. Chicklade turned away ; asd for aboat a 
 
 minute she walked rapidly along the lane : then 
 
 she relaxed her pace— glanced over her shoulder — 
 
 and perceiving that Cicely was still standing on 
 
 the spot where she bad left her, she took courage 
 
 at finding that there was such an interval between 
 
 herself and that young lady who for a while had 
 
 seemed to bo inspired with all the fiercest passions 
 
 I of a demoness. True to her character of a malig- 
 
 I nant female*bully when she fancied herself to be 
 
 safe, Mrs. Chicklade shrieked forth, " Ah ! you 
 
 would kill me — would you? Beware! — you have 
 
 made me your mortal enemy— and we shall see 
 
 ; whether you are in reality so indifferent as you 
 
 I pretend to be with regard to all I can tell !" 
 
 I Having thus vented her fury, Mrs. Chicklade 
 
 I again turned and darted along the lane until it 
 
 I joined the main road,— where she felt taat she was 
 
 I completely safe. 
 
 Cicely had advanced a step or two on being thus 
 
 I menaced and taunted by the vile woman ; and 
 
 I then she had suddenly stopped short, while her 
 
 I countenance became ghastly with rage— the rich 
 
 hue tied from her full pouting lips, leaving them 
 
 j livid white— and her eyes flashed sinister fires. 
 
 Thus she stood for a few moments ; and it was not 
 
 easy to fathom the precise nature of the dark 
 
 thoughts that were passing in her mind. She 
 
 moved not until Mrs. Chicklade was lost to. her 
 
 view ; and ther, muttering something to herself, 
 
 Aliss locale followed rapidly in the same direc- 
 
 tiaa. 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 "iVs must now return to Winifred Barrington, 
 whom we left at Sidney Villa, still engaged in 
 conversation with the good-hearted parlour-maid 
 Eache], who had conceived a great interest in the 
 young seamstress in consequence of the very 
 favourable representations which Mr. 'Williams, 
 the baker, had put forth concerning her. 
 
 '•■ And do you think, my dear Miss Barrington," 
 asked Eachel, " that your grandfather will in 
 reality gain this law-suit in the long run r" 
 
 " I do not know — I hope so," replied ATinifred. 
 " It has lasted for a great number of years : but 
 Mr. Timperley called yesterday " 
 
 "Mr. Timperley?" ejaculated Eachel. "li he 
 your grandfather's lawyer ?" 
 
 " Yes," responded Winnie : " he has been his 
 solicitor for the last seventeen or eighteen years— 
 ever since the death of his former attorney, Mr. 
 Waldron. I have often heard my grandfather 
 say so." 
 
 " How singular !" said Eachel. " Xou do not 
 know, then, that these ladies— my young mistresses 
 —are the granddaughters of that same Mr. Wal- 
 dron of whom you have just been speaking?" 
 
 "No — I never heard it before," rejoined Wini- 
 fred in astonishment. " But yuu must remember 
 that this is only the second time I have been to 
 Sidney Villa " 
 
 "I am sure that Miss Bvelyn," inlermpio'. 
 Eachel, " will, if possible, become all the more in- 
 terested in you on this very account. Ah! I 
 should add that the youn» ladies are well ac- 
 quainted with Mr. and Mrs. Timperley: indeed :: 
 is their niece Miss Keale who has just been her« 
 to call." 
 
 " Ob, then, perhaps your young ladies will speak 
 to Mr. Timperley on my grandfather's behalf?" 
 said Wmifred : and then by her looks she appeared 
 as if she regretted having proffered the request. 
 
 " Miss Lister, though as kind-hearted a young 
 I lady as any I ever knew," responded Rachel, " is 
 I scarcely likely to give herself any trouble in the 
 ] matter: but Miss Evelyn will joyfully do all she 
 I can to serve you. You must however tell me in 
 what manner she can advance your grandfather's 
 , interests. Does not Mr. Timperley perform his 
 duty ? You may speak candidly to me, my d^ar 
 Miss Barrington : do not be afraid to explain what 
 J is passing in your mind." 
 
 Thus encouraged, Winnie said, " I understand 
 very little of all these law-aiTairs : but still I fancy 
 that my poor grandfather has at times had some 
 reason to believe that Mr. Timperley might have 
 pustied on his business with a little more rapidity. 
 ! Still I must frankly confess that Mr. Timperley is 
 { doing it all on speculation ; and therefore it is not 
 ! to be supposed he would put himself to any extra- 
 ordinary degree of expense, because there is the 
 I chance that he may never obtain a single farthing 
 
 " I am sure," exclaimed Eachel, " that Miss 
 Evelyn will say a good word to Mr. Timperley for 
 your poor grandfather. You told me, I think, 
 that he w«B once rich " 
 
 " Yes— very rich : but thai; was before I was 
 born," responded Winifred. " Heaven grant that 
 even if he do not become rich again, he may aC 
 least acquire sufficient to pay off the liabilities 
 which keep him a prisoner in that dreadful place i 
 though I fear that " 
 
 " Are those liabilities heavy ?" inquired EacheL 
 
 " I do not exactly know," rejoined Winifred . 
 " but from some few little things which I have 
 gleaned at times, I fancy that it is not so mudi 
 the amount that originally kept my grandfiather in 
 prison, as the complicated nature of the affair^ 
 themselves. But now I fear that if the prison- 
 doors were thrown open and ho was told that lu- 
 was free, he would not avail himself of his liberty : 
 for he has grown very eccentric and peculiar — an-: 
 he has over and over again vowed that he will 
 never leave the gaol unless it be as a rich man, 
 the gainer of his suit, and with his own carriage 
 at the gate ta receive and bear him 
 
 " How singular !" ejaculated Eachel. "Do you 
 think, my dear Miss Barrington, the poor old gen- 
 tleman's mind has grown morbid ?" 
 
 " He is in the full possession of his intellects," 
 replied Winnie : " but still, you know, the ideas 
 must necessarily become limited to a very narrow 
 circle under the influence of so long an imprison, 
 ment. It is likewise only too natural that some 
 I of these ideas should take the aspect of prejudices, 
 ' and in that sense become firmly rooted in the 
 mind." 
 
 "Ab, true!" said Eachel, with a sympathetic 
 sigh, " You are of course aware that your grand.
 
 AGSES: 
 
 S, BEAUTY AFB PLEASUHE. 
 
 m 
 
 in Dalham, possesses a 
 great distance hencQ^ 
 
 father's opponent, Sir 
 Uautiful little villa at 
 a mile or so away ?" 
 
 " I know it." said Winifred, in a tone that was 
 more subdued than that in which she had pre- 
 viously been speaking : and for an instant a slight 
 flush crossed her countenance. 
 
 The good-hearted Eauhcl conceived that she 
 was touching on a delicate and painful topic when 
 ihus alluding to Sir John Dalbam, whom "Winifred 
 might naturally regard as her grandsire's perse, 
 cutor and foe; and she therefore hastened to 
 change the topic. The discourse was continued 
 for a little while longer ; and then Winifred took 
 ner departure, carrying her bandbos in one hand 
 • and a small bundle in the other— this latter con- 
 taining the materials which Agnes had ere now 
 giren her to be made up into morning-dresses. 
 
 Just as Winifred emerged from the iron gate 
 belonging to the grounds of Sidney Villa, she be- 
 held a gentleman approaching at a little distance ; 
 and she immediately recognised him. The reeog. 
 nition was mutual ; and the gentleman seemed 
 pleased as well as surprised to behold Miss Bar- 
 riugton there. He was about forty years of age 
 —of moderate stature, of slim figure, and with a 
 tolerably good-looking countenance. He bed dark 
 hair and whiskers^an aquiline nose — a well- 
 ehapcd mouth— and a pair of dark piercing eyes. 
 The expression of those eyes as well as the general 
 contour of the features indicated strong passions, 
 which might be moved either for good or for evil, 
 but which would go to the extreme according to 
 Mhichsoever impulse they obeyed. He was hand- 
 somely dressed, and was evidently a gentleman by 
 eucial position as well as in appearance. 
 
 " Ab, Winifred— you here ?" he said, for a mo- 
 ment stopping as Miss Barrington saluted him 
 with a respectful courtesy, which nevertheless was 
 constrained and embarrassed, while the colour 
 went and came in rapid transitions upon her 
 cheeks. "One word with you!" continued the 
 gentleman : " but not here, in sight of those win- 
 dows," he added, glancing through the bars of the 
 gate towards Sidney Villa. "It would be com. 
 promising you. If you have time, come on for a 
 lew moments to the lane." 
 
 Winifred signified assent by a slight inclination 
 of the head ; and the gentleman passed rapidly 
 along the road, she following at a distance which 
 would not lead any observer to imagine that she 
 was thus purposely pursuing the same track. By 
 the way in which he had alluded to the lane, and 
 in which she bad implied her assent to his pro- 
 posal that she should join him there, it was evi- 
 dent enough that she was no stranger to the place 
 — while indeed the inference would be that she 
 bad met the gentleman there before. As she 
 walked along, with her bandbox and her bundle, 
 there was a profound pensiveness in her looks ; so 
 that for a while she did not even attempt to strug- 
 gle against whatsoever emotions were agitating 
 within her. 
 1 , A walk of about ten minutes brought Winifred 
 I to the lane, into which the gentleman had already 
 proceeded ; and it was the same wherein Cicely 
 I Noale's encounter with Mrs. Chicklade had oc- 
 l cjrred about half-an-hour previously. The lane 
 :, was narrow and shaded with trees : there was 
 \ Eioreover a bend in it which a: s certain distance 
 
 might shield any one from being soen by the 
 passers-by in the read from which it diverged. It 
 was just beyond this bend that the gentlema:i 
 stopped to await Winifred's coming up ■ and in a 
 few moments she joined him there. 
 
 Dropping her bandbox upon the green swcr' 
 which bordered the lane, and placing the bundle 
 on the top of it. Miss Barrington stood with down- 
 cast eyes in the presence of that gentleman. Thore 
 was still a certain restraint in her looks and man- 
 ner; but it would have been difficult for an unini- 
 tiated observer to define from what source this 
 feeling of embarrassment arose. 
 
 " How is your grandfather, Winifred ?" asked 
 the gentleman, in a voice that was kind, and with 
 looks that grew soft as his naturally piercing eyes 
 were bent upon her. 
 
 " He enjoys good health," answered Miss Bar- 
 rington, only for an instant raising her own look", 
 and immediately bonding them down again. " His 
 spirits are good likewise — because," she added 
 hesitatingly, " he is now full of hope once more 
 
 or rather I should say, that hope of his has 
 
 acquired feverish strength; for of itself it has 
 never abandoned him." 
 
 The gentleman reflected in silence for upwards 
 of a minute ; and then he said, " Can 1 not be of 
 any assistance to you to-day, Winifred ? This 
 meeting was an accidental one — but still I thought 
 that possibly " 
 
 " No, sir— I thank you," she interrupted him, 
 with a firmness that notwithstanding bed some- 
 thing deejily respectful in it. " To a certain 
 extent I have accepted your bounty — your 
 charity " 
 
 " Use not such terms as these, Winifred J" cried 
 the gentleman : " you pain and afflict me in- 
 fiuiLely. Have you not a thousand claims r — am 
 1 not bound " 
 
 "No— I havo never regarded it in that light," 
 responded Winifred. " Yuur conduct has proved 
 most generous towards me :— in tny heart I am 
 grateful, even though with the lips 1 speak so 
 little of gratitude, and though my manner may 
 perhaps be equally deficient in expressing it. But 
 Oh ! you can full well comprehend what I must 
 feel when standing in your presence — scarcely 
 able to look you in the face " 
 
 " Winifred, this is foolish 1" interrupted the 
 gentleman, now modulating his voice to accents 
 the softness of which might have- been sympathy 
 or tenderness, we cannot at present say which : 
 " and I have told you over and over again that it 
 it thus foolish ! Give not way to these emotions; 
 You know what in my own heart I think of you — 
 or else my conduct would not havo been what it 
 has! Cheer up, Winifred " 
 
 " Sir," she interrupted him, in a tremulous 
 voice, " I thinl: that this is the last time I shall 
 
 meet you — at least under such circumstances 
 
 though heaven knows whether we ever can meet 
 in the world otherwise than stealthily. But " 
 
 " What mean you, Winifred ?" asked the gentle- 
 man : " what mean you when you say that you 
 think this is the last time ?" 
 
 " I have found so k-nd a friend," responded 
 Miss Barrington, "in a young lady at that house 
 from which you ere now saw me issue, that by mine 
 own industry alone— for the exercise of which she 
 has promised to furnish me ample occupation, and
 
 AGNES; OB, BBADII iLND PLSASUBE. 
 
 flhe giyes is so geocruas in a 
 
 'ord, sir, 1 hope and trust that benoefortb I shall 
 no longer be rorapelled to receive from your 
 bounty that which my own labour will be com- 
 petent to produce." 
 
 Again the gentleman reflected deeply for up- 
 wards of a minute ; and then he said, " Are you 
 sure, Winifred, that you are giving expression to 
 your thoughts with the most perfect regard to 
 truthfulness ? — or is this a mere delicate excuse 
 OD vour part to put an end to our meetings?" 
 
 " No !" she exclaimed, with something like 
 vehemence : " if such were my sole purpose, I 
 should not have sought a pretext— I should frankly 
 and candidly explain it now." 
 
 "Yes, I think you would — I am sure you 
 would !" ejaculated the gentleman ; " and yet I may 
 as well give utterance to that which I was ere 
 now on the point of sayiug. Listen, Winifred ! 
 If you be inspired only by the thought of putting 
 an end to tbefe meetings, 1 will cheerfully make 
 an arrangement by which at some place, and 
 under suitable circumstances of secrecy, you may 
 continue to receive the same sum which you have 
 hitherto thought fit to accept at my hands— or 
 any other sum that you may name, be it ten 
 
 times as much " 
 
 " No, sir !" she again interrupted him ; and now 
 she looked full in his face as she spoke. " I am 
 devising no pretext — I require none. For my 
 own sake aloiu I would have never, never ac- 
 cepted the slightest bounty at your hands; and 
 this you know — though it may indeed appear un- 
 gracious and ungrateful on my part to speak in 
 euoh terms. But for my grandfather— that poor 
 
 lielples."! old mam Oh, no ! I could not see 
 
 him want j and therefore ^But you know tht 
 
 i-est !" 
 
 " And do yon think, Winifred," asked the 
 sreutlemau, " that you have now a prospect 
 of earning a sum sufficient for all your require 
 ments f " 
 
 "I hope so— I believe so, fhe replied. "If 
 not, sir, I shall not hesitate to avail myself of 
 bounty again. And now we must part. I would 
 say much to you : indeed when first I resolved, 
 scarcely half-an-h©ur back, upon taking the step 
 ■with regard to you which I have been explaining, 
 1 fancied that at our next interview I should have 
 much to eay. But whether it be that this inter- 
 view has taken place with an unexpected sudden- 
 ness, at a moment when it was so little looked for 
 — or whether it be that a crowd of harrowing and 
 torturing thoughts, of which yo» can full well 
 comprehend the nature, has overwhelmed in my 
 mind all to which I had intended to give utter- 
 ance — I cannot say. Certain it is, however, that 
 
 I must now leave much unsaid unless it be to 
 
 give you the parting assurance of that feeling 
 which alone can subsist in my heart after every 
 thing that has taken place between us. I havi 
 done, sir. And now farewell!— leave me !" 
 
 The gentleman lingered however for a few mo 
 ments : he seemed desirous to say something, and 
 yet hesitated to give utterance to it. At T-ngth 
 lie abruptly exclaimed, " Farewell then, Winifred 
 What ! not even your band at parting ?" 
 
 " Ob, yes !" she said : and she placed her ham 
 in his own. 
 
 " God bless you !" he cried : and again it wa 
 with a look that might be either deepest sympathy 
 
 e a still more tender feeling, we cannot say ■ 
 ,n suddenly dropping her hand, he hurried 
 off, passing farther along the lane, and was 
 speedily lost to her view. 
 
 Winifred remained standing upon the spot 
 where he had left her : but now, instead of there 
 being a profound dejection in her look, there was 
 certain air of satisfaction, although mournlui— 
 and her bosom heaved and fell slowly with a long 
 deep-drawn sigh. Almost immediately afterward* 
 she heard a movement in the hedge at a little dis- 
 tance ; and glancing in that direction, she started 
 a reptile had stung her, on beholding the 
 person who was making her way througa -Jn 
 opening where her garments rustled againat the 
 bushes. 
 
 "Ah, Miss Barrington ! is it you?" exclaimed 
 he woman, whom our readers have doubtless 
 Iready suspected to be Mrs. Chicklade. " Well. 
 this is strange ! I am destined to meet numbers 
 of my former acquaintances to-day— and all within 
 space of an hour or two. I caught a glimpse 
 of that gentleman as he was taking leave of you 
 after pressing your hand so fervently ; and 1 re- 
 cognised him in a moment. I am glad that you 
 
 lie still But what ails the girl? Are jin» 
 
 too going to show ofiT your airs and treat me with 
 indignity !" 
 
 I do not wish to insult you," answered Wia- 
 
 shrinking in aifright from the sudden fierce* 
 
 ness of look which Mrs. Chicklade bent upon her : 
 
 but I really would rather that you should not 
 
 know me — that you should not notice me " 
 
 Which is as much as to say," ejaculated the 
 woman, " that you are ashamed of your old 
 friend !" 
 
 ' Friend ?" echoed Winnie, her cheeks glowing 
 with a sudden indignation ; and the same galvaoio 
 shock seemed to vibrate through every nerre, in- 
 spiring her with the strength and courage to repu- 
 diate the idea of friendship with such a creature. 
 
 " Yea— friend, I said," rejoined Mrs. Chicklade. 
 " And what then ? Did I not prove your friend t 
 Had it not been for me, would you have known 
 him whom you have just met so stealthily and 
 who pressed your hand so fervidly— doubtless lesT- 
 ing something substantial in it ?" 
 
 Winifred was now worked up to such a pitch of 
 indignation that all alarm on account of the wo- 
 man's violence was dispelled in order to give place 
 to the stronger feelings of loathing, disgust, and 
 abhorrence. Ker gentle nature appearetl to be for 
 the time-being utterly changed ; and with crimson 
 cheeks as well as with flashing eyes, she exclaimed, 
 '• Begone, vile woman ! Every word you utter is 
 a foul insult ! Leave me ! Our paths lie different 
 in the world— although for a single moment they 
 may once have seemed to meet !" 
 
 " Oh, it is thus that you also defy me ?" ejacu- 
 lated the woman, boiling with iudigmitioni " It ia 
 the same with all of you. If I serve you yesterday, 
 you treat me with scorn to-day. But, Ah! may 
 I not be avenged to-morrow? Lo-k you, Misa 
 Barrington! Do you think I am ignorant that 
 in Whitecross-atreet prison there is au old man— 
 your grandfather — who believes you to be every- 
 thing he could wish " 
 
 " And surely human nature is not so bad,** ex- 
 claimed Winifred, a dead pallor now overspreading 
 bet countenance, — " surely the heart of do woman
 
 AaNES; OE, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 
 
 is 80 fiendishly malignant — so thoroughly depraved 
 —as to suffer that the lips should breathe aught, 
 whether true or false, into the ear of that poor old 
 man, which may add to the afflictions he already 
 endures, and which for a quarter of a centm-y he 
 has known ! ' ' 
 
 " Ah ! I have touched you — have I ?'* exclaimed 
 Mrs. Chicklade, with a savage malignity of couu- 
 
 ' But no ! no ! — he would not believe it !" cried 
 BaiTington : " he would not believe it ! He 
 I me too well— he has too much faith in 
 
 tena 
 
 " Do not flatter yourself that it is so." ejacu- 
 lated the woman. " Could I not tell a tale that 
 would convince bim ? Aye ! — and here is the 
 proof — here is the reward I received !" she con- 
 tinued, drawing oft her glove and displaying a ring 
 No. 9.— Aqnes. 
 
 I upon the little finger of hor right hand. " It waa 
 your mother's— you told me so at the time " 
 
 '•Oh, my God!"— and Winifred wrung her 
 hands bitterly ; then goaded to desperation by the 
 threats which Mrs. Chicklade had held out, and 
 which the poor gii'l knew she was only too capable 
 of carrying into execution, she cried, " Swear that 
 you will not do me this mischief, or I shall do you 
 a worse one first ! There is the feeling of the 
 tigress within me •' ' 
 
 '• Hush, fool ! — we are observed I" suddenly ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Chicklade, waving her hands me- 
 nacingly. 
 
 Mrs. De Vere .and Charles had, as the reader is 
 aware, set out for their walk in the most secluded 
 ueighboiu-hood of their residence ; and it chanced, 
 or else it was willed by fate, that they should 
 come suddenly upon the scene which the bend in
 
 OE, DKAriT 
 
 [lisput. 
 
 low revealed to their view— the joung 
 nd the old woman engaged in vehement 
 
 " It is the hag !— that old wretch !" ejaculated 
 Charles. 
 
 " For heaven's sake, let us retire !" said Mrs. 
 De Vere in accents of the moat painful and earnest 
 entreaty — at the same time that she literally 
 (iraorged back her son sufEcicntlj round the bend 
 in the lane to shut out the two disputants from 
 their view. " Come quick, my dear boy !— it is no 
 business of our's!" 
 
 " By heaven, my dear mother," ejaculated the 
 generous youth, "it »» my business!— for that 
 fiendish old woman is capable of doing that young 
 ^irl a mischief !*' — and he disengaged himself 
 from bis mother's arm, which was grasping his 
 own tightly. 
 
 "Come with me! — come with me, I command 
 you !" she cried, almost frantic. 
 
 ** My dear mother," ho responded, firmly yet 
 kindly, " in all things would I obey you where 
 Tou have a right to exact my filial obedience. 
 But here is a case in which I must and will inter- 
 lere I I have already seen enough of that vile 
 l-.ng to know that she is capable, of any degree of 
 
 These words were spoken with feverish haste — 
 yet, as we have already said, with mingled kind- 
 ness and firmness. Charles was about to rush 
 away, when Mrs. De Vere, again seizing him by 
 I lie arm, passionately cried, "Stay, I entreat 
 
 " Pardon me, mother— forgive me for this 
 violence !— but I must— I will !" 
 
 He DOW again disengaged himself from his 
 parent's frenzied grasp; and saying, "I will over- 
 take you in a few minutes!" be rushed back to- 
 wards the spot where he had caught a glimpse of 
 the young girl and the old woman. 
 
 All that we have described as having taken 
 place between Charles and his mother, occupied 
 indeed but a few moments; and he therefore 
 Q'jickly reappeared round the bend in the lane, 
 111 the presence of Mrs. Chicklade and Winifred 
 Barrington. They were now gazing at each other 
 ill silence, as if waiting for a sufficient interval to 
 elapse for those who had ere now become transient 
 witnesses of the scene to get beyond earshot ere 
 they renewed their discourse. It was with a firm 
 step and decisive look that Charles advanced to- 
 wards them ; and returning with a look of scorn- 
 ful defiance the malignant. leer of the old woman, 
 lie tu;-ned to "Winifred, saying, ""What harm is 
 this wretch doing you f Look upon me as your 
 prrtector!" 
 
 "I think," said Mrs. Chicklade, "you had 
 better leave us, sir, to settle our own quarrel by 
 ourselves or else I may perhaps teW you some- 
 thing that you would little like to hear." 
 
 " Silence, vile woman !" exclaimed our young 
 hero: "you are dealing with one who defies your 
 menaces — and you may thank your sex that you 
 are not levelled with the ground !— Come with me, 
 Mies," be added, again addressing himself to Wi- 
 nifred, " I will conduct you to a place of safety." 
 
 " Bbe dares not go with you !" said Mrs. Chick- 
 lade, DOW perfectly coot and collected in the gloat- 
 ing enjoyment ot her malignity. "Tou will re- 
 main here, Miss Barrington— will you not ?" and 
 
 she beet a sigoifioant look upon Winifred, at the 
 same time displaying Uie ring upon her hand. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said "VVinnie in faltering accent! tc 
 Charles; "I prefer remaining here— we have 
 something to talk about — I am not afraid of her — 
 but I thank you very sincerely all the same for 
 your kind intentions." 
 
 Mrs. Chicklade bent upon Charles a look of 
 sardonic triumph, as she said, "You see I was 
 right ! and now take care that I don't find t/a» 
 
 out presently But no matter! Opportunity 
 
 will serve for that purpose !" 
 
 " And is it really your wish," asked young De 
 Tere of Winifred, " that I should retire, leaving 
 you in the company of this woman— whose threats 
 I utterly disdain." 
 
 " Yes, it is my wish," responded Miaa Bar- 
 rington. 
 
 Charles fancied that there was something very 
 peculiar in the expression of her countenance- 
 something half wild, half vacant ; and he there- 
 fore hesitated for a few moments. But he had 
 really no pretext for tarrying there any longer: 
 he had done all that was consistent with his gene- 
 rous sense of duty ; and he felt that any additional 
 interference on his part would assume an aspect of 
 downright obtrusiveness or impertinent curiosity. 
 He therefore bowed to Miss Barrington, and 
 slowly retired. 
 
 Eetracing his way round the bend in the lane, 
 he looked forward in search of his mother : but he 
 could not see her. He was surprised — for be fan- 
 cied that she would have lingered for him, though 
 even if she had walked on at her usual pace, she 
 still could not be at any great distance. He con- 
 tinued his way, marvelling what had become of her, 
 —deeply grieved that he should have offended her 
 for an object for which after all his services were 
 not required,— and even still more poignantly dis- 
 tressed at the idea of the mysterious connexion, of 
 some sort or anuther, which evidently sabeiMed 
 between herself and the old hag. His former sus- 
 picion on this head bad just been most painfully 
 confirmed by the dark threats which Mrs. Chick- 
 lade had flung out against himself — and which, 
 when taken in connexion with the strange and 
 terrific words he had only an hour back heard is- 
 suing from his mother's lips, seemed to indicate 
 that over that parent of his the infamous woman 
 wielded some strong power. 
 
 While tortured with these reflections, Charles 
 pursued his way till he reached a point where two 
 roads branched ofT, either of which would lead him 
 towards Belmont Cottage, but one being a some- 
 what nearer route than the other. He struck into 
 that shorter one : for he fancied that bis mother 
 might have proceeded more quickly than usual, 
 and that she was already perhaps advancing along 
 this particular road on her way homeward. Charles 
 went at a swift pace : but the end of the road 
 was reached, and he beheld not Mrs. De "Fere. A 
 few roicates more and he was at the cottage. His 
 mother had not returned. He waited for about 
 a quarter of an hour ; and then, as she came not, 
 be fancied that he must have missed her by some 
 unaccountable means, and that she mi^ht still be 
 wandering about, equally surprised end anxious at 
 his own disappearance. He therefore set out 
 again in search of her — this time taking the 
 longer route of the two to which we have alluded ;
 
 A6XE3; on, EEAC] 
 
 but as he threaded it, etill no Mrs. l>e Vera was I 
 to be seen. 
 
 He now once more reached the tortuous lane 
 which in recent pages has been so often alluded to ; 
 and he was inspired by curiosity to ascertain whe- 
 ther the old hag and the youug milliner were still 
 in the same spot. He advanced slowly round the 
 bend in the lane : he came within sight of the 
 place where be had so fruitlessly endeavoured to 
 interfere in the quarrel ; and a spectacle did in- 
 deed meet his eyes ! 
 
 But very different was it from anything that 
 he could possibly have anticipated ; for there, 
 upon the grass, lay the old hag, a lifeless corpse — 
 and two police-constables were bending over her ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE MUEDEB.— SIB JOH!f DALHASI. 
 
 The first glance had convinced Charles De Vere 
 that the old woman was indeed a corpse ; for her 
 countenance was livid— r the eyes, wide open, were 
 fixed with a glassy stare— and as the policeman 
 raised the form, it hung in a lifeless manner. 
 Moreover, the ejaculations which our young hero 
 caught issuing from the lips of the constables, con- 
 firmed the dreadful idea— even if any such con- 
 firmation were wanting at all. An indescribable 
 horror seized upon the young man : he stopped 
 short— and then staggered back, his hat falling 
 from his head, and he only preserving himself 
 from falling likewise by a sudden and powerfully 
 exerted energy. 
 
 " Murder's work has been done here, sir !" said 
 one of the policemen. "Lookl there's the mark 
 upon the unfortunate creature's neck. By Jove ! 
 it must have been bands of iron that grasped her 
 with such effect !" 
 
 " She's been throttled— that's quite clear !" ex- 
 claimed the other constable. 
 
 Charles De Tere now approached close up to 
 the spot ; and he beheld the marks to which the 
 policeman alludeti. A fierce and deadly gripe had 
 indeed been taken of the wretched woman's 
 throat: the traces of the fingers were there : the 
 nails had left deep indentations in the flesh, A 
 brooch — of a common and even trumpery cha- 
 racter, which had fastened Mrs. Cbicklade's scarf, 
 or rather large silk cape which she wore— was 
 smashed; so that one of the constables observed, 
 " No doubt the murderer got his knee upon the 
 poor wretch and held her down upon the grass 
 while he throttled her." 
 
 "Tes," said Charles De Vere, giving audible ex- 
 pression to his dismayed and bewildered musings ; 
 " it could scarcely have been that girl whom 1 saw 
 quarrelling with her ! " 
 
 " A girl quarrelling with her ?" ejaculated one 
 of the officers, catching at what instantaneously 
 struck hiin as a clue to the hideous mystery. 
 ** Be so kind, sir, as to tell us what you know." 
 
 " I repeat," said Charles, •' it is impossible it 
 could have been that girl. An 1 yet " 
 
 " Indeed, sir, you must explain yourself," ex- 
 claimed the officer firmly. " Whatever your 
 thoughts on the subject may be " 
 
 " I certainly did behold oomethtug," said Charles, 
 
 T A>rD PLEASUHE. I 7 
 
 in a faltering tone; for ho was dismayed and 1; - 
 wildered by a thousand horrible ideas. " In short, 
 some little while back — half-an-hour or so — 1 was 
 walking in this lane with my mother— I heard the 
 sounds of altercation — I saw this unfortunate 
 woman disputing with a young person having the 
 air of a seamstress or milliner of a superior clas^ 
 
 Indeed, if it had not been for her bandbuxes, 
 
 I should have taken her to be a lady " 
 
 " Did you hear any threats, sir, come from thio 
 young person's lips?" asked the constable who was 
 performing the part of questioner. 
 
 " I certainly must admit that at the moment 
 when I first became aware of the quarrel," re- 
 sponded Charles, though with hesitation thus 
 giving utterance to the recollections which came 
 back into his mind — for he was loth to criminate 
 an interesting young female whom despite all sus- 
 pieious circumstances he could scarcely bring him- 
 self to regard as the authoress of so foul a crime, 
 — " I certainly must admit that she was speaking 
 
 very vehemently doubtless however she waa 
 
 much provoked. Ah ! I remember, she said that 
 there was the feeling of a tigress within her." 
 
 "Ah! she said that, sir— did she?" exclaimed 
 the police-constable, glancing quickly at his com. 
 paniun, as much as to imply that they were ou the 
 right track to the discovery of the guilty person. 
 '■' And what else did you hear, sir ?" 
 
 " I was almost immediately afterwards upon 
 this spot," replied De Vere. "The two females 
 had at once ceased speaking on beholding rny 
 
 mother and myself and I, thinking that the 
 
 poor girl was being ill. treated, menaced, or coerced 
 into mischief by this woman — I came forward, I 
 say, to offer her my protection." | 
 
 "And what then transpired, sir?" asked the j 
 constable. t 
 
 " The young person refused all interference on 
 my part," answered De Vere : " she said that she 
 preferred remaining with the woman— that they 
 
 had something to talk about Ah! I rfcoil.^it 
 
 another thing too!" ejaculated Charles, feeli;i=; 
 the absolute necessity of telling the whole truth, 
 and all the more so inasmuch as each successive 
 remembrance that arose in his mind tended all 
 the more forcibly to criminate the youug mil- 
 
 " What else do you recollect, sir ?" asked the 
 constable. 
 
 " That the girl had a strange, half-wild, half, 
 vacant look — so that I thought her reason wns to 
 
 some degree unsettled or I should perhiips 
 
 rather say that I scarcely knew what tu think. 
 But at all events this woman" — and here he 
 pointed to the corpse — '• seemed to exercise some 
 extraordinary power over her; for with a signifi- 
 cant look, and merely displaying a ring " 
 
 *' A ring ?" said the constable, inquiringly. 
 
 " Yes— I recollect perfectly," rejoined De Vere : 
 " it was a ring on the little finger of her right 
 hand " 
 
 " But it is not here now !" interjected the con- 
 stable, holding up the deceased woman's rigiic 
 hand, which was ungloved— and the glove it»elf 
 was lying upon the grass. 
 
 " Is'o— the ring is not there !" ejaculated Charic? 
 "But I have a perfect recollection " 
 
 " Let us look at the other hand," interrupted 
 the police-officer : and be diew off the glo\ e.
 
 63 
 
 AGNES ; OB, BEAUTY AlfB PLEASrBB. 
 
 " Here are three rings on these fingers— but Done 
 on the little finger." 
 
 " And neither of those rings," said Charlei em- 
 phatically, " is the one that I saw. I could not 
 help noticing it, because I thought there was 
 something so significant in the waj in which the 
 woman displayed it — as it there were a secret con- 
 nected with it, and she felt that she had the power 
 of using it as a means of coercion. It was a 
 lady's ring — a ruby in the middle, set round with 
 pearls— I could not possibly be mistaken on this 
 
 " It is an important one," observed the police- 
 official, glancing at his companion, who nodded 
 assentingly. " It does not seem that the person of 
 the murdered woman has been rifled : as much 
 jewellery as she was likely to have about her is 
 still here, with the exception of that ring. The 
 crime was not therefore perpetrated for the mere 
 purpose of rubbery — that's as clear as daylight ! It 
 looks like a deed of vengeance. But did you hap- 
 pen to hear any name mentioned ?" 
 
 " Ah, I recollect !" said Charles : " the old wo- 
 man addressed the young one as Sliss Barrington. 
 And now I think I have told you all I can possibly 
 call to mind." 
 
 " Well, sir," responded the ofiicial, " you must 
 be so good as to attend at the Coroner's Inquest 
 to-morrow— and perhaps at the police-court, if we 
 succeed in finding out this girl Barrington. Tour 
 name and address, if you please, sir?" 
 
 Charles produced his card, intimating at the 
 same time that he was a clerk in the Home Office. 
 The constables had noticed that he averted his 
 eyes as much as possible from the hideously dis- 
 coloured countenance of the murdered woman— 
 and that when compelled by the incidents of the 
 conversation to turn bis looks upon the corpse, it 
 was with a strong visible shuddering and with all 
 the evidences of a profound horror. They there- 
 fore intimated that as the spectacle was one only 
 too well calculated to shock his feelings, there was 
 not the slightest necessity for him to remain any 
 longer upon the spot. Charles De Vere thankfully 
 availed himself of this permission to retire ; and 
 hastening away, he bent bis steps homeward. 
 
 On first beholding the corpse of the woman, a 
 thousand ideas, as we have already said, arose con- 
 flictingly in the young man's mind. Vividly he 
 recollected how that hag had haunted his mother ! 
 ^with equal vividness too bad those words which 
 that very afternoon he had caught from his mo- 
 ther's lips, flashed to bis mind ! " Wretched, infa- 
 mous woman! evil genius that has crossed my 
 path ! fatal spectre that seems doomed to haunt 
 me! Oh, if ever there were a moment when I felt 
 inclined to do some desperate deed to rid myself 
 for ever of ijour persecutions, it is now!" — Those 
 were the words : and they swept into Charles 
 Ee Vere's memory as if they were a shower of 
 molten lead- drops smiting his brain. A horrible 
 suspicion had thus for an instant crossed him in 
 respect to his own mother: for why had she dis- 
 appeared so mysteriously ? why had he failed to 
 overtake her t why had he not found her at the 
 cottage en his return thither ? No wonder, then, 
 thut he had staggered and nearly fallen, on first 
 beholding the murdered woman !— but the effort 
 with which he had so abruptly saved himself, was 
 accompanied by the equally sweeping recollection 
 
 of the dispute between Miss Barrington and the 
 old woman. Now, after all that bad transpired — 
 especially with the circumiUnce of the missing 
 ring— Charles had no doubt that Mrs. Chicklade 
 had met her death at the hands of the young 
 seamstress ; and he well-nigh Liathed himself for 
 having, though only for an instant, entertainel u 
 horrible a suspicion in respect to his own mother. 
 He literally writhed as it were within his entire 
 being, as he sped along towards Belmont Cottajjo ; 
 and in a voice of indescribable agony, he exclaimed 
 aloud, " Forgive me, mother !— for God's sake 
 forgive me !" 
 
 It was in a state of wild excitement that he 
 reached his home ; and on hastening into the par- 
 lour, he found Mrs. De Vere seated there. . 
 
 " Good heavens, Charles ! what is the matter ?'* 1 
 she inquired, springing up from her chair, her 
 countenance as pale as death and her whole form / 
 quivering. 
 
 " That woman, mother," cried her son,- " that 
 woman " ! 
 
 " Tes, yes, Charles ! For God's sake speak !** 
 — and Mrs. De Vere tottered to her chair, oa 
 which she sank down, I 
 
 " That woman is— is— murdered !" rejoined the ! 
 youth, who in the violence of his own excitement 
 did not notice how tremendously Mrs. De Vere 
 was excited also. 
 
 " Murdered !" she said. " Is this possible ?" 
 
 " Tes— murdered !" exclaimed Charles : ■' and 
 I fear by that very young girl whom we saw dis- 
 puting with her. Oh, it was a dreadful spectacle ! 
 — the bare recollection of it " 
 
 " Sit down, Charles — and compose yourself. 
 Here ! take a glass of water !" and his mother 
 was now all alacrity to give him the refreshment. 
 
 Charles drank at a draught the contents of the 
 tumbler ; and then he proceeded, in hurried and 
 broken sentences, to explain to his mother all that 
 bad occurred. He told her how bis intervention had 
 been rejected by the young milliner — how he had 
 gone in search of his mother— how, on not finding 
 her at the cottage, he had sped uif again in an- 
 other direction- how he had thus found his way 
 back to the spot where the altercation between 
 the two females had taken place — and how he had 
 discovered the lifeless form of the hag, with the | 
 policemen bending over it. As he progressed in 
 
 it was in a more collected manner, too, that he 
 recapitulated everything which had taken place 
 between himself and the constables. Mrs. De ' 
 Vere listened with an expression of fearful inte- | 
 rest upon her countenance ; and she occasionally I 
 interrupted the earlier part of the narrative by I 
 questions in respect to what the old woman had I 
 said when Charles had offered Miss Barrington bis ; 
 protection P 
 
 " It is a dreadful occurrence," she observed, ! 
 when the whole story was complete. " To think 1 
 that a young girl— such as you have described 
 this Miss Barrington to be, and such as she struck 
 me from the hasty glimpse which I obtained of 
 her " I 
 
 " Oh, shocking indeed I" ejaculated young Da \ 
 Vere. "But how waa it that I missed you, j 
 mother ?" 
 
 " I can scarcely tell," she answered. " I must 
 have gone one way while you took another. Ah !
 
 AOITES; OB, BSAniT AKD PLKASrEK. 
 
 and then I recollect I atnick across the fields 
 
 Bat there is one thing, Charles one thing 
 
 which I should rejoin. It is that when yon ap- 
 pear before the Coroner — or elsewhere — to give 
 your evidence — it will be unnecessary, you know, 
 my dear boy — quite unnecessary indeed, — for it 
 can have nothing to do with the testimony " 
 
 " AVhat do you mean, my dear mother?" in- 
 quired Cb-vrles, almost impatiently ; for Mrs. De 
 Vere was hesitating, stammering, and falt«ring. 
 
 " I mean, Charles," she continued, " it will be 
 aUogether unnecessary to state that the unfortu- 
 nate woman ever hung about our residence " 
 
 " Ah, my dear mother !" exclaimed the youth, 
 "I wish in the name of God you would tell me 
 wherefore that woman haunted and persecuted 
 you — why you were afraid of her — and why you 
 gave utterance to those bitter, bitter words which 
 met my ears when I returned home this after- 
 noon ?" 
 
 " Did either of the policemen seem to know 
 who the woman was ?" asked Mrs. De Tere, with 
 a strange look. 
 
 " No : they said nothing upon the subject," 
 replied Charles. " I do not think they bad the 
 •lightest notion who she was. Sut I was so be- 
 wildered and dismayed — 80 shocked and horri- 
 fied " 
 
 "It was natural, my dear boy," said Mrs. De 
 Vere. " But in reference to the questions you 
 just now put to me, I must tell you— as I have 
 told you before— that I knew this Mrs. Chicklade 
 in other times, when she passed as a respectable 
 woman in society. She fell into very wicked 
 paths ; she became a vile abandoned creature— so 
 infamous indeed that she was utterly cast ofif by 
 sU her acquaintances, who, like myself, had been 
 deceived in her. You may suppose therefore, my 
 dear Charles, that ic was not a very pleasant thing 
 for me to find such a bad woman suddenly pre- 
 senting herself;— haunting me — making drains upon 
 my purse " 
 
 " But why, mother, in the name of heaven did 
 you submit to all this P" exclaimed Charles, be- 
 wildered and frightened at what he heard. 
 
 "Can you suppose — i/ou, my own son — can you 
 suppose, I ask," said Mrs, De Vere, with an air as 
 if she were half shocked, half indignant, " that the 
 woman exercised any legitimate or well-grounded 
 power over me? But do you not know how 
 brittle is our reputation in this world, and how 
 the surface of the purest mirror may be dimmed 
 with the foulest breath ? Suppose, for instance, 
 that a notorious villain, cheat, and swindler pre- 
 sented himself to claim a renewal of an acquaint- 
 ance with you, en the ground that you had once 
 been intimate at a period when you knew not his 
 real character; and suppose that in the despera- 
 tion of his circumstances he threatened to malign 
 end calumniate you if you yielded not to his ex- 
 tortionate demands, — would you not dread lest 
 your reputation should catch an infection from 
 such a source, from the simple fact of its being 
 proclaimed that friendship and intimacy did really 
 once exist between you ? You, however, as a man 
 might have the moral courage to spurn the wretch 
 and bid him do bis worst. But with a woman, 
 Charles, it is different 1— and when the woman too 
 13 a mother, think you that she would not tremble 
 if an infamous creature, capable of any wickedness. 
 
 to parade a tissue of the most shocking 
 misrepresentations — falsehoods — lies — diabolical 
 inventions, before her own son ?" 
 
 "Enough, dear mother!" ejaculated Charles: 
 " I comprehend how cruelly you have been tortured 
 — how vilely and unjustly persecuted by this un. 
 principled creature ! Oh, I was wrong to press 
 you for explanations ! I now feel that a son ought 
 never to compel a parent to enter upon self-vindi- 
 cation when he knows that this parent of bis is 
 virtue itself ! Ab, my dear mother ! does it not 
 look like heaven's own retribution that the evil- 
 doing woman should have thus met her death in 
 the neighbourhood where she sought to do so much 
 mischief ?" 
 
 " It does seem so, Charles!" answered Mrs. De 
 Vere solemnly. 
 
 We must now take a temporary leave of the 
 mother and son at Belmont Cottage, and shift the 
 scene of our narrative, although to no very great 
 distance. It will be remembered that in the 
 middle part of this memorable day of which we 
 are writing— or to be more particular as to the 
 hour, it was at two o'clock, that Mr. Timperley 
 issued from Belmont Cottage, having previously 
 ascertained from Mrs. De Vere where Sir Joha 
 Dalham's suburban villa was situated. We did 
 not choose at the time to interrupt the contiauous 
 narrative of all those meetings and incidents which 
 related to Mrs. Chicklade, by following Mr. Tim- 
 perley : but we must now return to him. 
 
 Sir John Dalham's villa was situated at a dis- 
 tance of about a mile from Belmont Cottage. It 
 was not a spacious dwelling; for Sir John was a 
 widower, having only one son — and thus his esta- 
 blishment, in a family sense, was exceedingly 
 limited. But on the other hand he maintained 
 many domestics both at his villa and at his town- 
 mansion. He had horses and equipages at both. 
 If therefore the suburban residence were not ve-y 
 spacious so far as the main building was concerned, 
 it had numerous outhouses, together with some ten 
 or a dozen acres of paddock and garden-groun Is. 
 It was to this place that Mr. Timperley bent his 
 way on foot ; and he was speedily admitted into 
 the Baronet's presence. Sir John was a man far 
 advanced in life : indeed he had already passed his 
 seventieth year ; and to look at him, one would 
 have marvelled that he could have attained such 
 an age. He was shrivelled and withered— attenu- 
 ated almost to a skeleton — with a repulsive cada- 
 verousness of countenance. Yet the small keen 
 grey eyes had a wondrous vitality in them : they 
 were eyes which appeared capable of locking a 
 person through and through, and penetrating into 
 the most secret recesses of the soul. Hard deep 
 lines, traced by strong passions, blended with the 
 wrinkles which were impressed by age ; and it 
 would soon be found by any one coming in con- 
 tact with Sir John Dalham for the first time, that 
 a powerful intellect maintained its fire in what 
 might at the first glance seem to be the form of a 
 shrivelled mummy. 
 
 Mr. Timperley was ushered into a moderate- 
 sized but sumptuously furnished room, whero the 
 Baronet, wrapped in a French flowered silk 
 dressing-gown, and with a black velvet skuU-cap 
 ornamented with a gold tassel, was seated at a 
 table on which luncheon had just been served up. 
 All kinds of delicacies that coald possibly tempt a
 
 iGNES; OB, BEAUTT 
 
 PLKASURE. 
 
 jaSid appetite, ajipeared upoo that board : there tbat hope ? Yuu tell him his case is a good 
 was a uumerous assortmeat of exquisite wines one?" ! 
 
 and lijaeurs ; and a stout, well.fed lacquey, in " And then I draw up his pleas and affidavits,' ' 
 gorgeous lirery and with powdered hair, stood bo- rejoined Titnperley, "in a way that makes it a 
 bind the u'd Baronet's chair. very bad one." 
 
 '• Ah. Mr. Tiinperley !" said Sir John Balbam " To be sure ! to be sure !" said Sir John, rui)- 
 the moment the solicitor was announced: "you bing his hands. " Keep the old villain in gaol ! — 
 are welcome. Pray walk in. Give Air. Timperley keep him out cf bis just rights ! I am not to bu 
 a chair— and then leave us," he added, turning to beggared for him. But what about the compro- 
 his domestic. mise, Mr. Timperley ?" 
 
 " Being up in this neighbourhood. Sir John, " I touched him upon that ground," answered 
 on some little business," said Mr. Timperley, the lawyer : " but as I feared and anticipated, he 
 when he and the Baronet were alone together, " I was inaccessible. As delicately as I could— and 
 thought I would just drop in upon you. I called yet with a certain degree of firmness, as if exer. 
 in Berkeley Square last evening, and was told that cising the authority of an attorney towards his 
 
 you were at St. John's Wood " client— I suggested that were he to offer to accept 
 
 " Yes," observed the Baronet, " I frequent this one-third " 
 
 place as much as possible in the fine weather. But " Yes, yes— I would give that," interjected Sir 
 what tidings have you brought me ?" John Dalham, " to avoid any farther risk — al- 
 
 " Everything progresses, Sir John, as you though you, my dear Mr. Timperley, have taken 
 could wish," replied ilr. Timperley, rubbing his good care that the case shall hang on so long. But 
 hands and bending a significant look upon the what said he in respect to the compromise?" 
 Baronet. " I was there yesterday — I saw the old " He would perish sooner — or something to that 
 
 man " effect," rejoined Timperley. " I appealed to him 
 
 "Ah! and he doubtless still clings to hope?" for the sake of his grandchildren: but it was o( 
 eried the Baronet, with a chuckle which threw no avail— the old man is as obstinate as he can be. 
 him into a violent fit of coughing that left him Ah ! by the bye. Sir John, there was one thing 
 
 exhausted for three or four minutes afterwards, which rather alarmed me " 
 
 while his eyes looked horribly bleared and blood- ' " Eh ? eh ? what is that ?" inquired the Ba- 
 ahot. ronet, who in the sudden nervousness which seizel 
 
 Mr. Timperley did not however seem to take upon him, spilt half the contents of the wine-glass 
 the slightest notice of this incident: but with bis ; which he was conveying to his lips, 
 double eyeglasses he appeared to be absorbed in " Barrington actually threatened to take his 
 the contemplation of a very fine picture, though business out of my hands," responded Timperley, 
 not uf a very decent subject, tbat was suspended " and entrust it to another solicitor. He fancied 
 
 to the wall opposite to where he sat. For the that he saw some hesitation in my conduct " 
 
 lawyer knew Sir John Dalham well, and was i " But he does not suspect you?" cried Sir John: 
 aware that nothing annoyed him so much as to "he does not think that you are playing him false T' 
 take notice of bis ailments or infirmities. " No," answered Timperley : " we parted very 
 
 "•\VeU— andso you were with the old man yes- good friends— and I promised to send him the 
 terday P" said Sir John, at length regaining some new affidavits in the course of a few days. My 
 of the breatii which the violent fit of coughing had only fear is that the greater his experience in 
 well-nigh utterly expelled from his attenuated frame, studying all these law-matters, the more probable 
 " And how does he look ■ He does not wear as it is that he will detect the points which I pur- ' 
 well as I do, I'll be bound?" added the Baronet, posely leave open for your counsel to sei»e upon as 
 with a most malignant expression of counte- the ground of demanding a postponement of the j 
 Qgu^e. final judgment and for moving to put in fresh j 
 
 Mr. Timperley might have said that if he were ajfidavits." j 
 
 an actuary in a Life-office he would infinitely " Don't be afraid, my dear Mr. Timperley," said 
 lather grant an assurance on behalf of Mr. Bar- Sir John Dalham, though he himself was still | 
 riogton than on that of Sir John Dalham : but it nervous and quivering : " trust to your own inge- j 
 
 It has never failed you yet ; and besides, 
 I am always ready and willing, you know, to 
 sharpen its edge with something of this sort." 
 
 Thus speaking, the Baronet drew forth a num- 
 ber of bank-notes, which he handed to Timperley, 
 who received them with a low bow. 
 
 " It is a pity— a very great pity," continued Sir 
 
 John, " that the old man cannot be starved into a, 
 
 duty surrender. We anticipated great things, you know, 
 
 when you withdrew the guinea a week " 
 
 " Yes— but it was impossible to foresee that this 
 girl Winifred, his grandchild," interjected Tim- 
 perley, " would be enabled to supply him with 
 funds. For my part I can't make it out. Vrom 
 all I learn, the girl is virtuous; and yet it is im- 
 possible that by the exercise of her needle she can 
 maintain the old man and herself as respectably 
 ; ha !" also ciiuckled Sir John : " the next as she does. She must have some friends— or else 
 eh? Well, and of cjurse you encourage she must be the mistress of some peraoa who sup- 
 
 the lawyer's purpose to tell the truth 
 wheri.- he knew it would be unpalatable. He 
 therefore exclaimed, " How does he look ? Like a 
 corpse, Sir John! It is impossible he can last 
 
 " But vou are keeping up the old game, my 
 dear Mr.' Timperley?" said the Baronet eagerly 
 and anxi'jusly. "You ate " 
 
 " Djing everything in your interest, as 
 >.ound," replied the solieilor, with a low deferential 
 i»nw, as iC to a patron whom it suited him full well 
 t". serve. "The old man is full of hops for t'le 
 nert Term— always the next Term, you know. Sir 
 /i:hn(''— and bere Mr. Timperley chuckled with a 
 eaodued delight as if making himself merry at the 
 ex;^eDse of bis unfortunate client the prisoner in 
 Whitccross Street. 
 
 ■'ill
 
 A<JIfE9; OK, BTJAUTT AND PLEASTJHE. 
 
 71 
 
 coDsummately 
 
 plies her purse. Yet if so, si: 
 ek'lful in the art of hypocrisj.' 
 
 " I wish we could find out, Mr. Timperlcy,'* said 
 6ir John. "It would be a fine card for us to 
 plity, if we could by any means deprive the girl of 
 her resources. The old man would in that caae be 
 Bpeedily starved into a surrender : and instead of 
 ofiV-rin^ him a third, we could make him content 
 himself with a sixth, or even a tenth portion of all 
 he claims." 
 
 " I will think how it is to be manag:ed," an- 
 swered Mr. Timperley. " Eest assured, Sir John, 
 that whatsoever 1 can do to meet your views or 
 forward your interests, shall be done ! And now I 
 I will take my departure." 
 I *' Stop '—one word !" ejaculated the old Baronet. 
 
 **D.^ you ever happen to meet my son ?" 
 I '■ ^err, very rarely," answered the solicitor. 
 
 I " We merely bow and pass " 
 
 i "To be sure! that's right!" interrupted the 
 
 Baronet. " I would not for the world he should 
 
 puspect anything of what is going on betwixt you 
 
 . and me. Kodtrick is a strange fellow, you know, 
 
 Mr. Timperley : I have told you so before. He 
 
 ; already entertains a strong opinion about this 
 
 case : he considers that Barrington is ill-treated — 
 
 ( and if he once knew how excellent an understand- 
 
 I ing subsists between you and me " 
 
 I '' But he does not know it— and he must not 
 I know it !" said the lawyer emphatically. " Never 
 
 j from my lips shall a syllable drop " 
 
 1 "Heaven knows none shall ever fall from 
 j znine !" exclaimed Sir John. " I shall outlive that 
 1 old villain Barrington yet ; and ia one way or 
 j another I shall conquer ere I die. But if, Mr. 
 Timperley, by one of those casualties which do 
 . sometimes cut short men who might naturally hope 
 I to live many years,— if, I say, a premature death 
 I should overtake me, that son of mine would make 
 I a perfect fool of himself in respect to this lawsuit 
 ' — he will be for giving up everything to the Bar- 
 I Fingtons— he will leave himself a perfect beggar— 
 I be will inherit a title without a shilling to main- 
 I tain it ! You see, Mr. Timperley, that all these 
 1 reflections are very painful indeed ; and there are 
 ' times when, I assure you, I am driven to my wits' 
 ' ends." 
 
 * '* But Mr. Dalham has never entered so deeply 
 I into the merits of the suit," observed Timperley, 
 1 " as to be aware of the real excellence of Barring- 
 I tnn's claim, or to suspect the chicaneries by means 
 I of which you have been so long fencing it off? At 
 I least, my dear Sir John, I think that such is the 
 ! assurance you have often given me ?" 
 
 *' It is a long time Mr. Timperley, since you and 
 I I happened to speak on that particular subject," 
 ■ rejoioed the Baronet. " Several times I have 
 j been on tha point of tellin- you, when something 
 j has always transpired to prevent it, that within 
 I the last two or three jears — I do not exactly re- 
 [ collect how long — Roderick has seemed to take a 
 i greater interest in this suit ; he has made more 
 inquiries— he has looked deeper into it— he has been 
 j to my solicitors— in short, I don't know how it is, 
 J but it was only a little while ago he was suggest- 
 I ing that if I and Barrington agreed to halve the 
 
 I v7bole property " 
 
 I "And you. Sir John, of course scorned the 
 
 I idea }" exclaimed Mr. Timperley. 
 
 j ''Aye — and more than that," continued the 
 
 Baronet, with a tiendishty maiiguant expression of 
 countenance, " I vowed that I would invoke the 
 bitterest curses on Kodorick's head if he ever da7?d 
 again plead before mc on behalf of those Barring- 
 tons. I took the most deadly oath that I would 
 cover him with my maledictions if \^e ventured to 
 seek thera, speak to them, or succour them ia any 
 way. More than once hav? I spoken in these 
 terms to Roderick within the last two or three 
 years; and he has been touched by my words— for 
 he has always been accustomed to regard me with 
 respect. You know, my dear Mr. Timperley, how 
 wild he was wont to be— how he used to plunge 
 headlong into debt— and how I invariably came 
 forward to extricate him from his difficulties. 
 Well, he is not ungrateful — he knows, between 
 you and me, that if as a father I have not set him 
 the most moral of examples, yet that at all events 
 I have ever been a most indulgent parent " 
 
 " True, Sir John !" said the solicitor : "and rest 
 assured that Mr. Dalham will continue to do his 
 duty towards you while you live, and be faithful 
 to your memory when you shall have gone hence." 
 
 " Nevertheless," exclaimed the baronet, " let us 
 leave nothing to posthumous chances; but let us 
 do all we can either to break old Barrington'a 
 heart, or else to starve him into a surrender with 
 the least possible delay. Perhaps one of these 
 aims may be accomplished through the medium of 
 his grand daughter ? At all events you will see— 
 you must make inquiries about her — you mu«t not 
 let the grass grow under your feet." 
 
 "Trust to me. Sir John," replied Timperley i 
 and he then took his leave of the old Baronet. 
 
 On issuing forth from the grounds attached 
 to the villa, the solicitor was wending his way 
 through the fields, when he beheld the subject of 
 the concluding part of his discourse with the 
 Baronet approaching from a little distance. This 
 was Mr. Dalham. He was walking slowly, and in 
 a thoughtful mood, with his eyes bent downward. 
 Timperley saw that he was as yet unnoticed by 
 that gentleman; and not caring to fall in with 
 him, he at once struck off behind a hedge which 
 concealed him from Mr. Dalhara's view. He thui 
 escaped an encounter with the Baronet's eon. 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 THE ACCUSATION. 
 
 Wi; must now direct the attention of the reader 
 to a couple of decently-furnished rooms on the 
 second floor of a respectable house in Aldersgate 
 Street. This street, we may observe for the bene- 
 fit of those readers who may not happeu to bo 
 well acquainted with the metropolis, is in the olose 
 vicinage of Whitecross Street Prison. Tbs two 
 rooms to which we have alluded, constituted the 
 lodging of Winifred Barrington. 
 
 It was at about half-past four o'clock in t^e 
 afternoon uf the day of which we are writing, 
 that Winifred returned to her abode, with her 
 bandbos and bundle. She had ridden from 
 Camden Town in an omnibus, to the nearest poinK 
 where the vehicle could deposit her; and ghe had 
 thence hurriedly walked homeward. On knocking 
 at the door, admission was at once given hci'
 
 AONES; I 
 
 BEAUTY AND PLEASUBB. 
 
 by the laiiiUucly— a middle-aged good-natured 
 matrou, who had conceived a great friendship for 
 the grand-daughter of the unfortunate old pri. 
 Boner in Whitecross Street. Mrs. Slater— for that 
 was the landlady's name— poseessed a little an- 
 nuity of some twenty or thirty pounds a year, 
 from one of the City Guilds to which her husband 
 had belonged ; and she converted her humble 
 means into a competency by letting portions of 
 her house in ready-furnished lodgings. Being a 
 thoroughly respectable woman, she was very par- 
 ticular whom she thus harboured; and conse. 
 quently, during her sojourn there, Winifred had 
 never fallen in with any improper acquaintances. 
 The rooms which she occupied were small : but 
 Winifred, with a view to economy, would long ago 
 have given up one and contented herself with a 
 single apartment, had not Mrs. Slater insisted 
 upon her young favourite retaining them both at 
 a reduced rent. 
 
 On opening the door for her on the present 
 occasion — the maid-servant being out at the time 
 — Mrs. Slater was at, once struck by Winifred's 
 appearance. Sbe lotbed exceedingly agitated : 
 there was something strange altogether in her 
 aspect; and the worthy dame was seized with the 
 apprehension that some aew calamity had over- 
 taken the prisoner in Whitecross Street. 
 
 " 1 hope there is nothing wrong, Miss P" she 
 said ; for knowing that Winifred was a lady by 
 birth as well as by education and by manners, she 
 always treated her with respect. 
 
 "No— nothing," answered the damsel: and with 
 her box in one hand and her bundle in the other, 
 she passed hastily by Mrs. Slater, in a few mo- 
 ments disappearing up the staircase. 
 
 " Something has however happened to the poor 
 girl, I am convinced of it !" said the worthy 
 woman to herself, as she closed the door and 
 slowly retired to her own parlour. "I have often 
 seen her look unhappy : but she never seemed so 
 strange as she is this afternoon. What can it 
 possibly mean ? I would go up and renew my 
 inquiries— only I am afraid of being thought in- 
 trusive." 
 
 Having brought her musings to this point, 
 Mrs. Slater presently sat down to her tea-table ; 
 and as she lingered over her little repast, she con- 
 tinued to reflect on the agitated and excited looks 
 of her favourite lodger, until she gradually sank 
 into a doze. 
 
 It was about an hour later that the landlady 
 was startled by a loud imperious knock at the 
 frontdoor; and when the maid-servant had an- 
 swered the summons, Mrs. Slater heard the 
 sounds of two men's heavy footsteps in the pas- 
 sage. Then her ear caught the words, "Want 
 Miss Barrington ?" which were ejaculated in ac- 
 cents of mingled consternation and affright by the 
 domestic. 
 
 "Yes— Miss Barrington. You say she lives 
 here ?" answered a rough commanding voice. 
 " Which floor ?" 
 
 " The second," responded the maid-servant. 
 "But good gracious! is it possible " 
 
 "Hold your tongue, and don't he foolish," in- 
 terrupted the same rough voice that had before 
 ■poken : and then the heavy footsteps of the two 
 men began hastily to ascend the stairs. 
 
 Xh«>o were two police ofliciala. Immediately 
 
 after the corpse of Mrs. Chicklade was borne from 
 the scene of the tragedy to the nearest public- 
 house, the police had instituted inquiries in the 
 neighbourhood ; and they had quickly learnt that 
 a young seamstress, with bandbox and bundle, bad 
 been seen to call at Sidney Villa. Thither one o( 
 the policemen bent his way ; and without pre- 
 viously explaining his object, he elicited from 
 Bachel Miss Barrington's address. He then hur- 
 riedly stated for what purpose he required it: but 
 he tarried not to hear the indignant exclamations 
 of the worthy woman against the possibility of 
 Winifred being the authoress of so frightful a 
 deed. We will here pause only for a single in- 
 stant to state that the report of the murder dif- 
 fused throughout Sidney Villa the same horror and 
 dismay which were already experienced in the 
 neighbourhood wherever the tale was known: 
 hut Agnes experienced even stronger feelings still ; 
 for she was alike afllicted and indignant at the 
 thought that so amiable a creature as Winifred 
 could have been deemed guilty of such a crime. 
 
 The reader has however no difficulty in now 
 comprehending the purport of the ominous visit 
 paid by the two police-officials to Mrs. Slater's 
 house. They ascended to the second floor : they 
 opened the first door which presented itself, ob- 
 serving no ceremony in the process ; and Wini- 
 fred started up from her seat on thus beholding 
 
 " Ah I you know what we coma for," said one 
 of the constables, laying his hand upon the girl's 
 shoulder. " We want you for the murder of tba 
 old woman." 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the strange 
 horrified look which Miss Barrington bent upon 
 the police-oi&cer : her countenance became ghastly 
 something appeared to waver upon her lips — but 
 it was inarticulate : and then with a scream she 
 sank upon a chair. 
 
 "And, by Jove, here's the ring!" exclaimed 
 the other police-official, snatching up the jewel 
 from the table where it lay. " A ruby in the 
 middle— with four pearls eet round it ! The very 
 
 " Great God ! I am innocent !" cried Winifred, 
 throwing beraelt upon her knees and wildly clasp- 
 ing her hands. " 1 take heaven to witness that 1 
 am innocent ! Give me that ring ! I conjure 
 you not to take it from me ! Oh, you know not 
 what it has cost me to obtain it !" 
 
 "Ah, but we do know," rejoined ono of theoffi. 
 cials " and that's what we are here for. Come, 
 get up, my girl: this gammon won't do for us I 
 You must come along to the station." 
 
 The oflicer who thus spoke, raised Wmifred by 
 force from her suppliant posture ; and the unfor- 
 tunate girl gazed upon him with the vacancy of 
 an idiot. She seemed as if her senses had com- 
 pletely broken down beneath the weight of this 
 stupendous calamity. Thus she stood for a few 
 moments : then, as if su denly smitten with the 
 consciousness of her posi ion, she gave vent to 
 another wild scream,- again clasped her hands in 
 a paroxysm of indescribable agony— and saok 
 back in the chair. 
 
 " Come, young woman," said one of theofficials, 
 aking up her bonnet and shawl : " if you don't i 
 
 choose to move of your own accord, 
 you by main force that's all." 
 
 ! must can7
 
 "Where? To prison? O G-oq I m; poor grand' 
 lather 1"— and with another wild cry she sank 
 senseless on the floor. I 
 
 The coDstables conveyed her down the stairs: 
 an empty cab was passing the house at the mo- \ 
 ment: it was stopped— and Winifred, still in a , 
 lileless condition, was placed in it. Fortunate for 
 her was it that she was thus deprived of conscious- 
 nes8 at the time; for the rumour had spread that 
 two constables had entered the house to arrest 
 Boraebody, and a crowd had begun to collect. The 
 cab drove rapidly away— but not before one of the j 
 officers bad hurriedly whispered to a friend whom 
 he recognised amidst the group, the cause for 
 which their prisoner was arrested. 
 
 Mrs. Slater, on learning from her maid-servant 
 that the two men whose heavy footsteps she had : 
 heard were police-constables, had felt assured that i 
 they must be labouring under some strange mis* 
 Uke in seeking MIsa Barringtun—until she sud- 1 
 JNo. la— Agnea 
 
 denly recollected the young lady's agitated appear- 
 ance on returning home after an absence of somo 
 hours. Full of anxious curiosity, she stole up tbo 
 stairs to listen v but when she heard that it was 
 nothing less than an awful charge of murdor 
 which was made against her favourite lodger, tho 
 worthy dame was seized with such a fearful con- 
 sternation—such an overwhelming bewilderment— 
 that how she found her way down-stairs again, she 
 never afterwards could remember. She only just 
 succeeded in gaining the interior of her parlour, 
 when she sank down in a swoon — to the increased 
 affright of the already alarmed and dismayed 
 
 The domestic did 
 presence of mind : bi 
 
 however entiriy lose hep 
 he instantaneously began 
 
 this process she was ultogether unassisted— for the 
 other lodgers who in addition to Winifred occupied 
 rooms beneath that ruuf, were all o*2t at the time.
 
 iGSES; OB, BBAriT A!H) PLEAStJHE, 
 
 After awhile Mrs. Slater was brought back to con- 
 sciousness ; and she then burst into tears as well 
 as lamentations. 
 
 " Oh Mary !" she said, wringing her hands, " I 
 can't believe it's true! What! Miss Winifred 
 
 No ! I can't breathe the word ! I should as 
 
 soon think that I myself was capable of such a 
 crime ! And yet her strange looks ? Well, well ! 
 1 don't know wlmt to think of it! But the dis- 
 grace that, whether or no, will be brought on this 
 house that's always been so quiet and respectable !" 
 
 " Oh, ma'am !" cried the servant.girl, weeping ; 
 •it will be enough to kill her poor old grandfather 
 — at his age — and suffering so much as be has 
 done for so long a time !" 
 
 "Ah!" said Mrs. Slater, her natural goodness 
 cf heart triumphing over that temporary display 
 of sel6sbne&3 in regard to whatsoever taint might 
 be thrown upon the respectability of her house ; 
 " you remind me of a duty that I really ought to 
 perform ! It would be shocking if the intelligence 
 is conveyed rudely and abruptly to that poor old 
 man. Even if his grandchild is guilty, it is no 
 reason why he should suffer on her nccount : but 
 if she should be innocent, it is all the more in- 
 cumbent on me to do that which she cannot now 
 
 do for herself 1 mean to comfort or console 
 
 the poor gentleman." 
 
 The maid-servant heartily approved of Mrs. 
 Slater's decision ; and she rushed up-stairs to fetch 
 the worthy woman's bonnet and shawl. Mean- 
 while Mrs. Slater took her market-basket ; and she 
 deposited therein a bottle of wine— a seed cake, 
 which she had made as a little regalement for her- 
 self— a couple of pots of jam, and two or three 
 other little delicacies. A few minutes afterwards 
 she was wending her way in the direction of the 
 prison. She was met by one or two of her neigh- 
 bours, who questioned her in respect to the hor- 
 rible report concerning Winnie Barrington which 
 was circulating in the district : but Mrs. Slater— 
 though heartily fond of a gossip, which is a little 
 weakness charactertistic of all lodging.house- 
 keepers— would not pause to do more than em- 
 phatically express her conviction that her favourite 
 iodger must be innocent of the dread crime im- 
 puted to her. In a few minutes she reached the 
 prison ; and after the exchange of some common- 
 place observations with the turnkey, she dis- 
 covered to her satisfaction that she had out- 
 stripped the rumour so far aa that establishment 
 was concerned. 
 
 But it was now too late for any visitor to be 
 admitted within the walls, unless under very pecu- 
 liar circumstances indeed ; and the turnkey offered 
 to convey the basket to Mr. Barrington. But Mrs. 
 Slater whisperingly explained to him the melan- 
 choly purpose for which she had come ; and the 
 man was horrified and astonished at what be 
 heard. 
 
 "No, no!" he said, "I never will believe it! 
 What ! Miss Winnie that I have knowed ever 
 since she was a child, to go for to do such a thing 
 as that! I'd just as soon fancy I could eat my 
 own head as that she is guilty. But it will be a 
 sad blow all the same for the poor old genelman j 
 and it's werry kind of you, Mrs. Slater, to come 
 to break it tenderly to him. You shall see him 
 in this room off the lobby here. Just walk in and 
 sit down fur a minute or two till he comes." 
 
 The worthy woman accordingly passed into the 
 room indicated by the friendly turnkey ; and she 
 had not been long there when Mr. Barrington 
 made his appearance. He knew Mrs. S'ater well; 
 for she had sometimes accompanied Winifred to 
 see him on a Sunday — and she had uccasionally 
 called alone at the prison to convey him some 
 little present on her own account. Tlius the old 
 man was by no means surprised to find her there; 
 and he entertained not the slightest apprehension 
 that anything was wrong. 
 
 " Ah, my good friend," he said, shaking her 
 heartily by the hand : " you do not neglect the 
 poor old prisoner. Bat the time is not far distant 
 now when I shall have it in my power to show you 
 my gratitude. The next Term must see the end 
 of my business ; and then I shall be rich, Mrs. 
 Slater " 
 
 " Ah, my dear sir !" interjected the good woman, 
 shaking her head mournfully, and with difiieulty 
 keeping back her tears ; " but riches don't always 
 constitute happiness. There's many and many a 
 I drawback " 
 
 " Yes— but my drawback has lasted for • 
 quarter of a century !" exclaimed the old man ; 
 " and therefore it must have an end." 
 
 " Q-od alone, sir, can decide that !" said Mrs. 
 Slater, with a look which she meant to be omi- 
 nously significant, so as to prepare the prisoner 
 for the terrilic announcement which she had to 
 
 " Yes — God decides everything," responded Mr. 
 Barrington. "But God is just— and he does not 
 for ever heap misfortunes upon the heads of those 
 who have not merited them." 
 
 " Oh, pray my dear sir, for heaven's sake talk 
 not thus!" ejaculated Mrs. Slater, to whom the 
 old man's words seemed, urtder existing circum- 
 stances, to savour almost of blasphemy. 
 
 " Well, well," he said, " it is perhaps wrong to 
 mix up holy names with our worldly affairs : but 
 as I was telling you, Mrs. Slater, the day is not 
 far distant — only next Term — when I shall be 
 rich— and my dear Winnie will be rich— and she 
 shall ride in her carriage— and she shall wear 
 
 beautiful jewels " 
 
 . " Ob, Mr. Barrington ."—and the worthy 
 woman was now weeping bitterly and sobbia^ 
 convulsively. 
 
 " Good God ! what is the matter ?" exclaimed 
 the old man, now suddenly seized with alarm. I 
 " Has anything happened to my dear Winnie ? i( ( 
 she ill ? You have sent for a doctor— have joii 
 
 " Oh ! how can I ever tell you what has oc- 
 curred ?" gasped and faltered the kind-hearted 
 woman; for she was profoundly affected. " But I 
 am sure she is innocent, sir ! Oh, I am confident 
 
 " Innocent .'" echoed the old man with a bewil- 
 dered gaze. " Innocent ?" he repeated. " Why, 
 she is goodness itself 1 Innocent ?" 
 
 " Yes, I am sure she is !" cried Mrs. Slater, 
 vehemently ; " and I should have told the police- 
 officers so if I had not swooned away !" | 
 
 " Police-officers ?" echoed the old man, now ; 
 trembling violently. "What on earth do you | 
 mean ? Who has dared say anything against my 
 dear little Winnie ? Ah 1 I see something dread- 
 ful has happened!" 
 
 I
 
 AQNES ; OK, BBAUIT ASD PLEASttBS. 
 
 " Sometl.iiis (ireadful, indeed, Mr. Barringtou!" 
 exclaimed ilrs. Slater. "For God's sake prepare 
 yoarself ! Tl.o blow will be terrible !" 
 
 "Ob, what do joumean?" — and the poor old 
 man was now quivering nervously from head to 
 foot : and he was looking into ilrs. Slater's coun. 
 tenanco wit'u the most poignant aniiety as if to 
 fathom the truth. " Courd poor 'Winnie have 
 done anything wrong ? Perhaps disappointed in 
 receiving money due to her — fearful that I might 
 want— and so— and so— she may have taken some- 
 thing tbat did not properly belong to her at the 
 time— but she meant to pay for it at a future 
 
 "Ob, Mr. Bsrrington ! it is much worse than 
 this!" faltered Mrs. Slater, again sobbing violently. 
 " I mean tbat the charge which is made against 
 her is much worse— for I know that she is inno- 
 cent Ob, I am sure she is !" 
 
 "Good God! what is it?"— and the old man 
 trembled like an aspen leaf. "Tell me! tell 
 me!" 
 
 "Some woman — but pray compose yourself— 
 some woman has been — now don't shake and 
 tremble like this— she may not be dead after all, 
 jou know s'ue might only have been very seri- 
 ously hurt— though at first they thought she was 
 
 killed and some how or another poor Miss 
 
 Winnie has been suspected arrested 
 
 But " 
 
 " Impossible !" exclaimed the old man, bis 
 bowed form suddenly becoming as upright as if he 
 was in his prime, "ily ATinnie a murderess' 
 No, no! I (vould sooner believe anything than 
 thia! You are mad!— you are labouring under 
 aome horrible delusion !" 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Barrington! it is not I who am 
 .—it is the wicked people who have accused poor 
 
 Miss Winnie !" and Mrs. Slater could not give 
 
 utterance to another syllable ; her voice was choked 
 in an agony of weeping. 
 
 " My God ! my God !" moaned the wretched 
 old man, now sinking upon a seat and clasping his 
 hands in anguish. " I do indeed see tbat some- 
 thing terrible has happened!" 
 
 For some minutes he rocked himself to and fro, 
 gazing stedfaslly upon vacancy— giving utterance to 
 no sound, not even so much as a moan : and Mrs. 
 Stater, wiping away her tears, looked at him with 
 apprehension- fur she thought that his senses ware 
 abandoning Lim. 
 
 " Where is my Winnie ?" he suddenly ex- 
 claimed, starting up from his seat, "I will go to 
 her ! For many a long year she has comforted 
 me: I will now go and comfort her! The poor 
 girl ! 1 think I see that sweet face of her's look- 
 ing mournful— Oh, so mournful !— and those beau- 
 tiful eyes filled with tears ! Good God ! I cannot 
 endure it ! My darling, darling Winnie— I come 
 to thee !" 
 
 Xbe old man strode towards the door : but Mrs. 
 Slater, now again weeping bitterly, caught him by 
 the arm, exclaiming, "For heaven's sake be tran- 
 quil, Mr. Barrington ! Tou know you cannot go 
 out ! I will do everything I can for your poor 
 Winnie ! But you— you are a prisoner !" 
 
 "Just God, it is true!" ejaculated the old man: 
 and ho staggered back to bis scat. " It is like a 
 iriKbtful dream !— it is as a death-blow ; Winnie, 
 Winnie, where art thou ? Tou in one prison— 
 
 I in another ! O heaven, it is enough to drive on^ I 
 
 Then the old man began to weep— again rock- 
 ing himself to and fro ; and Mrs. Slater regarded 
 him with illimitable compassion. All that selfish- 
 ness of old age which had so long rendered him 
 indifferent to the amount of work that his grand- 
 child might have to toil through in order to sup- 
 port herself and him, was now melted and absorbed 
 in the strength of the tenderness which he veri- 
 tably experienced towards her. It would be im- 
 possible to conceive a more heartrending spectacle 
 than that of the old man's grief, as it was now 
 presented to the view of the wortly loJging-house 
 keeper. 
 
 " If they have taken my Winnie from me," be 
 said, in the whimpering tremulous tone of childish 
 old age. " they have taken the only prop that sus- 
 tained me. Her cousin is far away across the seaa — 
 she has but me to look to — and I cannot go to her ! 
 She cannot come to me ! Bars and bolts to keep 
 her secure ! — bars and bolts to keep me secure i 
 Oh, the wretches! to have taken away the old 
 
 And now the unfortunate prisoner's grief be- 
 came so violent that Mrs. Slater was seriously 
 alarmed. She endeavoured to breathe soothirg 
 words in his ear : but he repulsed her. 
 
 " JTo, no ! I will go to her !" he cried, again 
 suddenly starting up from bis seat. " Nobody 
 shall keep me back ! — nothing shall restrain me !" 
 
 Again too did Mrs. Slater catch him by the 
 arm,— reminding him, though with all possible 
 delicacy, that he was a prisoner. He stopped short 
 — he gazed upon her with a wild vacant stare — 
 her alarm increased— she thought that he was 
 going mad— when all of a sudden he gave vent to 
 a hollow groan and sank down senseless upon the 
 floor. 
 
 Mrs. Slater summoned the turnkeys ; and the 
 unfortunate old man was borne up to the infir- 
 mary of the prison, — the ofiicials assuring the 
 worthy woman that every attention should bo 
 shown him. 
 
 On issuing forth from the gaol, with a sad 
 tightening at the heart, Mrs. Slater remembered 
 ! her pledge to do all she could for Winnie ; and 
 having made inquiries respecting the particular 
 t station-house to which it was most probable the 
 unfortunate girl had been conveyed, she took a 
 cab and proceeded thither. The officials could not 
 however permit the interview which the worthy 
 woman so much desired to have with her : but 
 they assilred Mrs. Slater that as much attention 
 had been shown her as circumstances would permit. 
 
 " And do you really think she is guilty, sir ?" 
 inquired the lodging-house-keeper of the Inspector 
 into whose presence she had been ushered. 
 
 " I cannot give an opinion, ma'am," was his 
 guarded reply. '' We shall know more about it 
 to-morrow when the magistrate has taken the 
 business in hand." 
 
 " Ahl I feared there was something wrong !" 
 said Mi'S. Slater, thus inconsiderately giving- audi- 
 ble expression to her painful musings. ** It struck 
 me like a presentiment of evil when I opened the 
 door for the poor girl and saw how strange and 
 agitated she looked " 
 
 " Indeed?" said the Inspector, catching at these 
 words. " And pray what time was this I"
 
 AONES; OB, BEACTT AITS FLEASaBI. 
 
 . Slater was dow suddenly shocked by (he i well nigh drivea to distraction with the idea that 
 
 that she had been unconsciously be- ' if the intelligence should reach him abruptly, it 
 
 trayed into a statement which might act most , would be sufEcient to strike him dead upon the 
 
 prejudicially to the very being 
 ahe was so deeply interested. She felt as if she 
 had committed a crime : she could hare torn out 
 her tongue by the roots. 
 
 " Your evidence is important," said the Inspec- 
 tor; "and you must hare the goodness to attend 
 to-morrow morning at the police-court. Be so 
 kind as not to fail ; or else— I mean no offence, 
 ma'am — the magistrate will issue his warrant to 
 compel you to come forward." 
 
 " Oh, what have I done ?" murmured the un- 
 happy woman, sinking upon a seat, where for some 
 minutes she remained in the most painful medita- 
 tion. 
 
 At length she became aware that she was the 
 object ef curiosity on the part of three or four 
 persons who were lounging in the station-house ; 
 and rising from her seat, she collected her 
 thoughts sufficiently to address the Inspector 
 •gain. 
 
 "Would jou have the goodness to convey a 
 message to the unfortunate girl ?" she said, in a 
 voice, tremulous with emotion. "It will be a 
 great kindness and a real act of mercy. Tell her 
 that her friend Mrs. Slater has broken the intelli- 
 gence to her poor old grandfather, who has borne 
 the blow — as well as — as — as — could be expected." 
 The Inspector promised to fulfil the worthy 
 woman's wish; and the latter then took her de- 
 parture, saying to herself, " It was better I should 
 send in that little falsehood about her poor grand, 
 father to the unhappy Winnie, than to have either 
 left her in suspense or to have suffered her to h 
 the exact truth." 
 
 But as slie retraced her way homeward in 
 cab, Mrs. Slater bitterly repented the unguarded 
 expressions she had let fall from her lips — while 
 •be trembled at the idea of having to attend at 
 the police.office on the morrow. 
 
 But in the meanwhile what of Winifred her 
 •elf ? She had awakened from a state of uncon. 
 Bciousness to find herself in a cab with a couple of 
 police- officials, on her way to the etation-house. 
 At first it all appeared to her like a frightful 
 dream— until her thoughts being collected, she 
 could no longer shut out from herself the convic. 
 tion of its reality. Then she again and again 
 protested her innocence in the most passionate 
 terms— until she found from the answers of the 
 constables that it was useless to appeal to them. 
 To the Inspector at the station-house she renewed 
 her protestations, with the hope that he had the 
 power to adjudicate in the case. But here again 
 she was bitterly disappointed; and she was con- 
 signed to the care of the female searclier— for it 
 was feared in the dreadful excitement of her feel- 
 ings that she might lay violent hands upon her- 
 self. She thus at all events escaped the discom- 
 fort of being locked up in one of the ordinary 
 cells— though it was now all the same to the 
 wretched Winifred into what den she was thrust : 
 for personal comfort was as the most miserable 
 of trifles in comparison with the awful position in 
 which she found herself placed. 
 
 The reader will scarcely require to be informed 
 that the unhappy girl thought with poignant an- 
 guish of her poor old grandfather; and she was 
 
 spot. But after awhile her frightful apprehensions 
 on this point were destined to experience a material 
 relief, when the Inspector delivered Mrs. Slater's 
 message. Winifred— not suspecting for a single 
 instant that the worthy woman had for the best of 
 purposes misrepresented the actual truth — wa» 
 oonrforted by the assurance thus conveyed to her; 
 and clasping her hands in grateful fervour, she 
 prayed for some time in silence. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE EXAMINATIOir. 
 
 Evert dweller in the metropolis knows what a 
 sensation is created and how much morbid curiosity 
 is excited, when the intelligence begins to spread 
 of a barbarous murder having been committed 
 within its precincts. Second editions of the even- 
 ing newspapers were published, in the present in- 
 stance, with an account of as much as the penny, 
 a-lining purveyors for the press had been enabled 
 to pick up : but the morning journals of the en- 
 suing day contained ampler details. Mrs. Chick- 
 lade's body had been identified ; and it will perhaps 
 be as well if we were to lay before our readers the 
 following extract on this point from one of those 
 daily prints last alluded to. 
 
 The passage ran thus;— "It seems that the un- 
 fortunate victim of this barbarous, and in some 
 sense mysterious crime, is a woman of the name 
 of Dorothy Chicklade. Her age appears to have 
 been about sixty ; and she had recently occupied a 
 somewhat expensive lodging in a bouse, which iv 
 however of questionable repute, in Norton Street, 
 Fitzroy Square. It was the landlady of this house, 
 who, reading the account in one of the evening 
 papers, proceeded to the tavern where the corpse 
 lies, and at once ideutiSed it. It is but decent to 
 refrain as much as possible from speaking to the 
 prejudice of the dead: but truth compels us to 
 state that the antecedents of the unfortunate vic- 
 tim of this tragedy will not bear too close a scru- 
 tiny. The young person against whom the heavy 
 weight of suspicion presses, has hitherto borne 
 an exemplary character — though it is now difficult 
 to reconcile the belief of her virtue with her con- 
 nexion with such a woman as the deceased. In 
 justice however to Winifred Barrington, it must 
 be remarked that she has for some time aided 
 materially to the support of an old grandfather 
 who has been for many years an inmate of one of 
 the debtors' prisons of the metropolis, and who is 
 the plaintiff in the long pending and well known 
 Chancery suit of "Barrington versus Dalham.' 
 We understand that Mr. Timperley, the eminent 
 solicitor of Lincoln's Inn Fields, and who is Mr. 
 Barrington's attorney in that suit, has generously 
 undertaken to conduct the defence of his client's 
 granddaughter. At a late hour last night Mr. 
 Timperley had an interview with the prisoner: 
 but we believe we are correct in asserting that be- 
 yond a general protestation of her 
 declined making any statements."
 
 E, BEAFTT ASD PLKA8CTBB. 
 
 Long before the usual hour at which the magia- 
 trat€ of the district poHce*ofHce was accustomed to 
 take bis seat, a crowd collected in the neighbour- 
 hood to obtain a glimpse of the prisoner on her 
 arrival. In anticipation of this display of morbid 
 curiosity, the unfortunate girl was not conveyed 
 to the police-office in the prison.van : but just be- 
 fore the night cases were disposed of, she was 
 brought thither in a cab, in the custody of the 
 inspector and another officer. The cab drew up 
 close to the magistrate's private door; and the 
 wretched Winifred was hurried from the vehicle 
 into the building, with an expedition that greatly 
 disappointed the bulk of the assembled crowd. 
 The glimpse which however was obtained of her 
 countenance by a few persons who were nearest to 
 the officers that kept the way clear, showed them 
 that Winifred was deadly pale, but that her fea- 
 tures were rigid— either through utter despair, or 
 else through the firmness of an unnatural hardi- 
 
 hood unless indeed it were with the inward 
 
 consciousness of innocence: but that this last- 
 mentioned solution was the correct one, few — very 
 few imagined. All the circumstances of the case, 
 BO far as they had been disclosed by the news- 
 papers, tended to fix the guilt unmistakably upon 
 her ; and though there were no demonstrations of 
 ill-feeling on the part of the assembled multitude, 
 yet the general impression was entirely against the 
 prisoner. 
 
 It was not long after Winifred's arrival at the 
 police-court that the magistrate siijnified his read 
 ness to enter upon the case. The unhappy gi 
 was now conducted into the court, and stationed 
 in the dock. The place was thronged : but Wi 
 fred, after one quick glance flung around, looked 
 neither to the right nor to the left, but kept hei 
 eyes bent downward for a long period. Those 
 persons, however, who had obtained a view of the 
 prisoner on her entrance — and those who were in 
 a position to watch her countenance still — were 
 struck with astonishment that a young person 
 who had nothing forbidding or malicious in her 
 looks, but on the contrary, everything prepossessing 
 —could have perpetrated such a crime. Mr. Tim- 
 perloy, as the attorney who had engaged himself 
 to conduct Winifred's defence, was already present 
 in the court: the witnesses were in a private 
 room, waiting to be summoned in due order. 
 
 In reply to the usual questions put by the 
 Clerk of the Court, Winifred stated that she was 
 nearly eighteen years of age — that she had latterly 
 resided for some time at Mrs. Slater's in Alders- 
 gate Street — and that she was by avocation a 
 seamstress. Her answers were given in a low and 
 tremulous tone ; and her countenance was now 
 much less rigid in its expression than at the 
 moment when she was so hurriedly conducted 
 from the cab into the building. 
 
 Scarcely had the Clerk of the Court taken down 
 Winifred's answers, when Mr. Wardour — an 
 eminent barrister — made his appearance, in the 
 becoming forensic costume of gown and wig. He 
 took his seat in the place allotted to counsel ; and 
 bowing to the magistrate, said, " I am instructed, 
 your worship, to appear oa behalf of the prisoner, 
 Winifred Harrington." 
 
 The anhappy girl herself took scarcely any 
 notice of the circumstance : but Mr. Timperley 
 nppearelto be excited with astonishment and in- 
 
 dignation at the announcement made by Mr. 
 Wardoufc 
 
 " I am the attorney," he said, " for the defence: 
 and as yet I have called upon no member of the 
 bar to give bis services in the matter. May £ 
 ask the learned gentleman by whom bo is in- 
 structed ?" 
 
 " It is sufficient for the magistrate to know- 
 that I am instructed," responded Mr. Wardour; 
 " and the unfortunate prisoner perhaps best know,-; 
 whether she possess any friend in the world who 
 is likely to have thus far interested himself in 
 her?" 
 
 Winifred started as if from a painful dream, on 
 finding herself thus suddenly appealed to: but her 
 idejxs were quickly collected. She thought within 
 herself that she had but two friends in the world 
 who were at all likely to bo caring for her at that 
 moment ; and these were her old grandfather and 
 the gentleman whom she had met near Sidney 
 Villa. Without precisely comprehending from 
 Mr. Wardour's speech which of these two friends 
 was the one who had retained him in her defence, 
 she nevertheless knew that from either source the 
 good; and she said, after a very 
 refiectioo, " I will thankfully accept 
 the services of this gentleman." 
 
 At the same time she gently inclined her head 
 towards Mr. Wardour ; and Mr. Timperley, fling- 
 ing upon her a strange glance, said, " Young 
 woman, you know that I was influenced only by 
 the most disinterested motives, and by a sense of 
 duty towards your grandfather, whose attorney I 
 am, in undertaking your defence." 
 
 Winifred made no answer : indeed she knew 
 not what reply to give. She felt that friendship 
 was at work from some quarter or another, and 
 that she could not possibly do better than leave 
 herself entirely in the hands of whomsoever it were 
 that Mr. Wardour now represented. 
 
 " Giving you due credit, Mr. Timperley, for the 
 best possible motives," said the magistrate, with a 
 blaod smile— for he was well acquainted with th» 
 lawyer, and frequently dined at his house,—" it i» 
 clear that the prisoner has elected to be defended 
 by Mr. Wardour; and therefore *" 
 
 " I understand your worship," interrupted Mr. 
 Timperley, with a low bow ; " I shall not inter- 
 fere with the progress of the case : but I shall 
 remain to watch it for the sake of the prisoner's 
 afflicted old grandfather, whoso attorney I have 
 for many years been." 
 
 " Let it be thoroughly understood," said Mr. 
 Wardour, " that I am far from intending any 
 rudeness or disrespect towards Mr. Timperley, 
 whom I know to be an eminent solicitor ; and E 
 am sure that on this point I am likewise express, 
 the feelings of him who has instructed me, 
 iigh his solicitors, to appear on the prisoner's 
 behalf. I would not improperly usurp Mr. Tim- 
 jy's functions : and I am sure that every one 
 give him credit for the excellence of his mo- 
 1 in the task which he would have under- 
 taken." 
 
 The learned gentleman's explanation is per- 
 fectly satisfactory," responded Mr. Timperley. 
 These little amenities between barrister anil 
 wyer having succeeded those remarks which at 
 first threatened to engender a wrangle, the case 
 as proceeded with.
 
 78 
 
 JiaSES; 02, BEACTT AKD PLEAStTEB. 
 
 Tbe first witness who was called was the senior 
 of the two policemen who had discovered the dead 
 bodj. Ho commeDCod by stating that he was on 
 duty in the immediate ncijhbouriiooil, when he 
 was relieved by a comrade ; and they walked a 
 little way together, in conversation. At the bend 
 in the lane they beheld a female form lying upon 
 the grass which bordered the road ; and they found 
 that the woman was dead. The constable explained 
 that a young gentleman, whose name was De Vere, 
 almost immediately afterwards came up to the 
 spot, and that in consequence of certain intelli- 
 gence which he gave, ho (the constable) followed 
 up the clue which terminated in the arrest of the 
 prisoner in the dock. 
 
 " I produce a ring," continued the police-officer, 
 " which I found upon the table at the prisoner's 
 lodging. This ring I have reason to believe be- 
 longed to the deceased. When 1 took it from the 
 table, the prisoner was very much excited ; and 
 flhe exclaimed, ' You know not what it has cost 
 nte to obtain it /' or words to that effect." 
 
 " Did she protest her innocence of the crime 
 imputed to her ?" asked Mr. Wardour. 
 
 " She did," was the response. 
 
 " Perhaps she protested it vehemently ?" asked 
 the learned gentleman. 
 
 " \es," replied the constable : "ehe was greatly 
 excited. But we are too much accustomed to 
 protestations of that sort " 
 
 " Stop !" ejaculated Mr. Wardour : " this is not 
 evidence— and you must not make such remarks." 
 
 The constable stood down from the witness-box ; 
 and his comrade who was with him at the time 
 the murder was discovered, was next examined. 
 His testimony was however merely corroborative 
 of that given by the precediug witness. 
 
 "The lane is a very lonely one, I believe ?" said 
 Mr. Wardour. 
 
 " It is, sir," answered the constable. 
 
 "And thus," continued Mr. Wardour, "it was 
 quite possible for any other person besides the pri- 
 soner in the dock to have passed that way, about 
 the time the murder must have been committed, 
 without being noticed by the constable upon that 
 beat ?" 
 
 " Quite possible, sir," answered the policeman. 
 
 He was now directed to stand dowuj and the 
 Clerk of the Court inquired if Mr. lloadowbauk, 
 the surgeon who had examined the body, was m 
 attendance. The reply was in the negative,— ac 
 companied however with an assurance ou the 
 part of the Inspector that be would shortly be 
 
 "We will in the meanwhile put Mr. De Vere 
 into the witness-box, your worship," added the 
 Inspector. 
 
 Charles was accordingly now introduced ; and 
 as he entered the Court, Winifred recognised in 
 him the young gentleman who had so kindly in- 
 terfered in her behalf when she was disputing 
 with the old woman. The unhappy girl was how- 
 ever too much agitated at tbe time — and her mind 
 was now too much benumbed by the awful sense 
 of her position — to be enabled to recollect with 
 clearness every detail to which Charles De Vere 
 might possibly depose. As lor the young man 
 himself, ho looked pale and care-worn ; and he 
 forbore from glancing towards the prisoner — for 
 liis Buspiciuns amounted almost to convictions 
 
 against her, and in the natural generosity of his 
 heart he could not bear to think that one so young 
 and of such prepossessing appearance had been 
 capable of so foul a crime. 
 
 It was with clearness and precision that be 
 gave his evidence— but yet with the unmistakablo 
 air of one who only came forward in the dischargo 
 of a melancholy duty, Winifred shivered to the 
 very confines of her entire being when she dis- 
 covered how damnatory De Vere's testimony was 
 against her. Step by step, as he proceeded, was 
 an impulse given to her memory ; and she nov.r 
 recalled to mind each successive detail which he 
 specified. She knew that he was exaggerating 
 nothing— misrepresenting nothing — that he was 
 telling the exactest truth without swerving a 
 hair's breadth on the side of augmentation or sup- 
 pressiou. She perceived likewise that he tolJ 
 what he knew in the fewest possible words— si 
 that he gave no false colour, either of a deopened 
 or of a mitigated shade, to the particulars of bis 
 testimony. 
 
 Wheii in the first instance he stated that hii 
 ear had caught those words—" Tkereis thefcelht-j 
 of the tigress tcitliin me !" Wmifrtd felt that slie 
 was lost ; and there was a powerful though sub* 
 dued sensation in the Court. When be spoko 
 of the riog which ho had beheld upon the right 
 hand of the deceased, and (hen pronounced the 
 ring which had been found at the prisoner's lodjr- 
 ings to be the self-same one, there was a still 
 deeper sensation : but Winifred made a sudden 
 and abrupt movement as if about to speak. 
 Whether it were, however, that she thought better 
 of it— or that the words to which she would have 
 given utterance, died away in her throat— the 
 spectators could not tell : but certain it was that 
 she remained silent— her head drooped lower than 
 hitherto upon her bosom — and she did not again 
 raise her eyes while Charles De Vere was in tho 
 witness-box. Mr. Wardour asked him "out very 
 few questions in cross-examination; and theaa 
 were put with a most gentlemanly courtesy— for 
 every one present admired the straightforward, 
 honest manner in which our hero had given his 
 evidence, and appreciated the feelings of mournful 
 reluctance aijaiust which he had been compelled to 
 struggle in the performance of his duty. 
 
 Tbe next witness was Mrs. Slater; and thiB 
 worthy woman was in tears when she entered the 
 box ; so that her appearance greatly affected tho 
 already sufficiently distressed AViuifred. Indeed, 
 the tears now began to trickle down the prisoner's 
 cheeks; and thero was a moment when she clung 
 to the dock as if to save herself from falling 
 A glass of water was handed to her : but she only 
 just touched it with her lips ; and then by a strong 
 voluntary effort she conquered her emotions— or at 
 least the outward betrayal of them in the same 
 intenseness as for tho few preceding minutes, 
 
 Mrs. Slater deposed to the effect that Miss Bar- 
 rington had lodged at her house for about two 
 years — indeed ever since the death of an aunt 
 with whom she had previously dwelt. Tho good 
 woman, wiping away her tears, burst forth in a 
 warm eulogy upon Winifred's character : she had 
 suddenly become armed with a courage which sur- 
 prised herself, when expatiating upon this point. 
 Many a oompassionaliug look was now turned 
 upon the prisoner ; and it seemed as if for a mo*
 
 AGUES : OH, BEAtriT AKD PLEASrEE. 
 
 ment ihe audience forgot, in the new feeling of 
 interest thus created, all those details of Charles 
 De Verc's evidence which were so damnatorj 
 against her. But that more kindly feeling was 
 speedily dissipated— or at least it merged again 
 into the conviction of her guilt, when Mrs. Slater 
 was compelled reluctantly to confess that on re- 
 turning home on the preceding day, at ahout four 
 o'clock, Winifred had a strange wild agitated look. 
 At the conclusion of her evidence, the worthy 
 woman was assisted out of the Court in an almost 
 fainting state ; and she returned to her house, 
 very seriously indisposed. 
 
 Tlie next witness examined was the conductor 
 of an omnihus plying hetiveen Camden Town and 
 llie City. He stated that shortly after three 
 o'clock on the previous day, the prisoner, Winifred 
 Barrington, entered his vehicle. It struck him at 
 the time that she was very much excited : and he 
 asked her if any one had insulted her ? She only 
 looked at him vacantly and made no answer. He 
 •observed that she continued to be more or less 
 igitatcd during the ride ; and on one occasion he 
 perceived that she had drawn her glove from her 
 hand and was contemplating a ring upon her 
 linger. Ho described the ring; and it corre- 
 sponded with the one then in Court. When shown 
 it, he at once recognised it. He had noticed all 
 those particulars from the fact that for a consider- 
 able portion of the journey it happened that 
 Winifred was the only inside passenger. The con- 
 ductor was an honest-looking, good-tempered 
 man : he g»ve his evidence in a straightforward 
 way ; and Mr. Wardour had no questions to ask 
 him. 
 
 The next witness examined was Eachel, house- 
 keeper at Sidney Villa. This kind-hearted woman 
 was much affected on account of Winifred, whom 
 she could scarcely believe guilty, and yet on the 
 other hand could scarcely believe her innocent. 
 She merely deposed to the fact of Miss Barring- 
 ton having been at Sidney Villa during a particu- 
 lar period of the preceding day — that period being 
 shortly previous to the time when the murder 
 uust have been committed. 
 
 Mr. Meadowbank, the surgeon, was next in- 
 troduced into the witness-bos. He apologized to 
 the magistrate for being so late ; but excused him- 
 self on the ground that he had been making a 
 most careful examination of the corpse of the 
 deceased Dorothy Cbicklade. He deposed that 
 the woman's death had been unquestionably 
 caused by strangulation — or in ordinary parlance, 
 that she had been throttled. He lucidly explained 
 how the external traces of fingers griping the 
 tiiroat with fierce violence, corresponded with all 
 the internal marks and symptoms. There was 
 likewise about the corpse suiScient evidence to 
 prove that a knee, or srme heavy object, had 
 pressed violently at the bottom of the chest,— this 
 statement corroborating; the opinion which the 
 policemen had expressed when accounting for the 
 manner in which tha brooch was broken. Mr. 
 Meadowbank farther stated, in reply to a question 
 put by the magistrate, that the deceased woman 
 was of attenuated frame— that she could have pos- 
 sessed little physical strength— and that therefore 
 it would not have required a very strong person to 
 c.-erpower her. 
 
 "Cuuid you judge from the finger-marka on 
 
 I? 
 
 the neck," inquired Mr. Wardour, " of the size of 
 the hands the gripe of which must have inflicted 
 death ?" 
 
 " No," replied tha surgeon,—" or at least, it 
 would be a very difficult matter to speculate upon, 
 inasmuch as the entire neck is much swollen, and 
 the marks left by the fingers are thus propor- 
 tionately altered." 
 
 " Look at the prisoner's hands," said Mr. War- 
 dour ; " and tell me whether you think that those 
 fingers were large enough to leave such traces as 
 you discovered on the neck of the deceased ? I 
 myself," added the learned counsel, "looked at the 
 body this morning. Be so good, Miss Barrington, 
 as to take off your gloves." 
 
 The unhappy prisoner — who appeared to hava 
 sunk into a half numbing torpor during the deli- 
 very of the surgeon's chief evidence — had seemed 
 to arouse herself suddenly when her counsel spoke, 
 as if she were all in a moment reminded with gal. 
 vonic vividness that he was the one who could 
 alone say a word in her behalf. She drew off her 
 gloves, and with timid modesty displayed her 
 hands. Every one who beheld them was struck 
 [ with astonishment at the singular beauty of those 
 hands, so white, so small, so delicate in their sym- 
 ' mctry The surgeon descended from the witnesB- 
 I box, and examined those beautiful hands with con- 
 \ siderable attention for upwards of a minute — 
 j during which there was so profound a silence in 
 the Court, that a pin, if dropped, might have been 
 ' heard to fall. And in the meanwhile Winifred's 
 eyes were bent bashfully downward ; and now, for 
 [ the first time this day, there was a slight tint upon 
 her cheeks, as if the rose were jealous of having 
 1 so long resigned its empire to the pale away of tha 
 I lily. 
 
 I Mr. Meadowbank returned to the witness-box; 
 I and all regards were now fixed upon him. 
 
 " Do you think," asked Mr. Wardour, " that 
 I Ihe hands of the prisoner were those which left 
 their marks upon the neck of the deceased ?" 
 "I should indeed be very sorry to say that they 
 I were," replied Mr. Meadowbank : " but as an 
 I honest man, I am compelled to admit that they 
 1 might have been." 
 
 I " You must endeavour, sir," said Mr. Wardour, 
 ; " to give us a positive opinion. I will shape my 
 I question in another way. Do you think that 
 [ those delicate fingers "—pointing towards the 
 ' prisoner — " could have left upon the neck of the 
 I deceased marks of such a length, width, and 
 I depth as you have seen thereupon ?" 
 I "There is no doubt," answered the surgeon, 
 " that the matter is open to the belief that larger 
 I hands inflicted those marks. But still it is my 
 duty to observe that discolouration spreads rapidly 
 I in cases of strangulation by violent throttling ; 
 I and the original marks are altered, disfigured, and 
 changed thereby, as well as by the swelling which 
 
 j "Yet you think, Mr. Meadowbank," said tha 
 ! learned counsel, " that it would be more satisfac- 
 tory for those who wish justice to take its course 
 by smiting the guilty person only, if a prisoner 
 with less delicate hands stood in the dock ?" 
 
 " I certainly should speak more positively OH 
 the point," answered Mr. Meadowbank. 
 
 " That will do, sir," said Mr. Wardour, who 
 I thereupon sat down with the'complaeent satisfao*
 
 aKES; OK, BBAUTT AHD PLEASCBB. 
 
 tiou of a couDsel nho has gained at least one point 
 in favour of his client. 
 
 The Inspector here intimated that this was the 
 case for the prosecution ; and in repi; to a ques- 
 tion bj the magistrate, be answered that be did 
 Dot think he should be enabled to produce any 
 additional evidence if a remand took place for 
 «uch a purpose. 
 
 "Do you wish to make any observations, Mr, 
 Wardour ?" inquired the magistrate. 
 
 ** I am well aware, your worship," responded 
 the learned counsel, " that the matter must go 
 elsewhere for a more complete investigation, and 
 that you have no alternative but to commit the 
 prisoner for trial. Moreover, as I have yet had 
 no opportunity of communicating with my client 
 — nor have the solicitors through whose medium 
 I am instructed by the prisoner's friend — I shall 
 eay nothing in her defence upon the present oc- 
 casion. I would only express the hope that the 
 judgment of the public will be suspended until a 
 jury of her countrymen shall have pronounced a 
 final opinion." 
 
 Again Winifred made a movement as if to 
 ■peak — her lips wavered — but again did she re- 
 main silent. Her eyes were bent downward once 
 more ; and no one could tell, from the fixed ex- 
 pression of her countenance, whence the roseate 
 tint had all fled, what was passing in her 
 thoughts. 
 
 It was only three o'clock in the afternoon ; 
 and in reply to the magistrate the clerk of the 
 court stated that the depositions would all be in 
 readiness by five. It was therefore resolved that 
 the case should then be completed, in order that 
 the prisoner might be finally committed for trial. 
 The magistrate, conceiving that she must feel 
 very faint after being so long in the dock, directed 
 suitable refreshments to be given her; and in 
 compliance with a request made by Mr. Wardour, 
 he allowed the unhappy girl to retire to bis own 
 private room. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 THE MAOISTBAIES' BOOM. 
 
 We have already said that Agnes Evelyn was 
 greatly afflicted on receiving the intelligence of 
 the crime imputed to Winifred Harrington. 
 Agnes had conceived a warm interest in the old 
 prisoner's grandchild ; and she could not at first 
 possibly bring herself to entertain the conviction 
 that one so amiable, so mild in her manners, so 
 grateful for whatsoever was done for, and so well 
 epoken of by all who knew her, could conceal a 
 heart BO black or instincts so diabolically mis- 
 chievous. Nevertheless, when Agnes read the 
 account in the morning paper — or at least as 
 much as the journal disclosed of the nature of 
 the evidence which weighed against Winifred, she 
 felt to a certain degree staggered, and her favour- 
 able opinion received a shock. Still she came not 
 to the conclusion that Winifred must necessarily 
 oe guilty ; and the amiublo young lady said to 
 borself, "As a Christian I will nut abandon her 
 Ro long as there remains the least chance that 
 (he may, after all, prove the victim of ciicumstan- 
 
 Early on the morning of the day following the 
 murder, a police constable called at Sidney Villn 
 to intimate to Bacbel that she must attend at the 
 police-court ; and Agnes inquired of the officer 
 whether she might be allowed to see Winifred ? 
 The reply was that if the young lady thought fit 
 to be at the Court in the afternoon, when the 
 examination might possibly be over, she could 
 no doubt have her wish gratified. The amiable 
 Miss Evelyn then bethought herself that legal ad- 
 vice was necessary to a person in Winifred's posi. 
 tion - and on this subject she likewise spoke to 
 the constable. But be informed her that Mr. 
 Timperley, on reading the case in the" evening 
 papers, had repaired to the station-house, and had 
 intimated to Miss Barrington that he would take 
 her defence in hand. 
 
 Agnes — ever mindful of everything which re- 
 lated to charitable or benevolent aims— remem. 
 bered that Winifred was the support of her 
 grandfather in prison ; and she enclosed a bank- 
 note for ten pounds to the Governor of White- 
 cross Street, requesting that it might be applied 
 to the unfortunate old gentleman's use, and simply 
 signing herself as " A Friend." She sent off the 
 packet by a trusty messenger ; and having per- 
 formed this deed of generosity, she inquired of 
 Floribel whether she felt inclined to accompany 
 her presently to the police-office to see Winifred ? 
 Miss Lister had hoivever a thousand excuses to 
 urge : she would not prejudge Winifred, but yet 
 she could not countenance her until her character 
 was thoroughly cleared up ; indeed even were it 
 otherwise, she could not pos^bly think of going 
 to a police-office, where there were all kinds of 
 low people and noxious odours : besides, she had 
 a headach— she wanted to lounge upon the sofa 
 — she had just got into the midst of a most in- 
 teresting part in a new novel— and she also ex- 
 pected two or three very agreeable persons _ to 
 call at the identical time when Agnes proposed 
 to pay a visit to Winifred. 
 
 Miss Evelyn did not press the point ; for she 
 would rather go alone than have an unwilling 
 companion. She sighed inwardly as she thought 
 to herself that the effect of the dream was already 
 wearing oiT— that her hope of its leaving a benefi- 
 cial infiuence behind it was doomed to disappoint- 
 ment—and that her cousin was yielding as much 
 as ever to the frivolities and vanities of Ufa. 
 Agnes felt however that she could not very well 
 proceed alone to the police-office ; and she wai 
 wondering whom she should seek as a companion, 
 when she suddenly recollected Cicely Neale. She 
 was the more inclined to make Miss Neale her 
 associate in the expedition, inasmuch as by first of 
 all repairing to Lincoln's Inn Fields she might 
 learn either from Mrs. Timperley or from Cicely 
 what the lawyer himself thought of Winifred'a 
 case. 
 
 To Lincoln's Inn Fields did Agnes accordingly 
 repair; and she touud Cicely Neale alone — for Mrs. 
 Timperley had gone out to make some purchases- 
 Cicely received Agnes with the most cordial wel- 
 come ; and the young ladies almost immediately 
 began to converse upon the tragedy. 
 
 " I know this Winifred Barrington," said Agnes ; 
 " and she was at the villa at the same time with 
 yourself yesterday." 
 
 " Qood heavens, how ihockiDg P exclaimed
 
 Cicely, who Hi\ not ( i ?,ftf nie tIv\Mk 6t to an- 
 noanea that she bad been acquainted with one 
 who was also connectoa with the tragedy— namely, 
 the viotim Mrs Chicklade herself 
 
 "Perhaps, my dear Cicely,' answerel Ajnes, 
 •it may not after ail prove so soocuinj that 
 Winifred has been beneath my roof: for what if 
 her innocence were to transpire ?" 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Miss Neale: "do you 
 entertain any such hope ?" 
 
 " I should be very sorry to admit," replied Miss 
 Evelyn, " that I am thoroughly convinced of 
 Winifred's guilt." 
 
 " But all the circumstances tend frightfully to 
 fcci crimination," rejoined Cicely. " Have you 
 t'an the morning paper ? Ah ! by the bye, a 
 gentleman whose name you have mentioned to me 
 — Mr. De Vere— is a principal witness against 
 her." 
 
 Ha 11.— Ao»Ba. 
 
 "Tl'S— T ha-ra seoa to-day's paper," answer 
 Agnes. " But what is your uncle's opinion ?" 
 
 " You know, perhaps, that he has taken the case 
 in hand," said Miss Neale, — " entirely through re- 
 spect for old Mr. Barrington, the aoottsed girl's 
 grandfather. My uncle went up last OTening ts 
 the station-house ; and he saw Winifred Barring- 
 ton. He returned with the firm conviction of her 
 
 "Good heavens 1 is this possible?" exclaimed 
 Agnes, her countenance exhibiting the utmost dis- 
 tress : then, after a pause, she added emphatically, 
 " If Winifred Barrington should prove guilty, it 
 would be almost sufficient to destroy one's oonfl- 
 dence in human nature I" 
 
 " Seeing that you are thus disposed to be pre- 
 possessed in favour of Winifred," said Cicely, with 
 an air of concern, " it grieves me to be compelled 
 to make you acquainted with my uncle's private
 
 lion. He 
 
 loH 
 
 AGXES; OE, BEACTT AKD PLBASUBE. 
 
 1— he has had a large [ slipped a liberal fee into his hand as a reward for 
 
 i.;i<enence in the world — and of all persons, 
 l:iv,vers may perhaps be considered the most 
 snrewd in judginj the secret thoughts and feel- 
 ings of others. 'Mrell, then, my dear Agnes, Mr. 
 limperley came home very much distressed from 
 itis interview with that girl last evening; and he 
 HS'iured my aunt and myself that he has not the 
 ii'nst doubt as to her guilt." 
 
 On hearing these words, Agnes was about to 
 c-iy that she would abandon her idea of paying a 
 lisit to Winifred— when her compassionate feel- 
 ings again got uppermost; and she observed, "I 
 Lave a great inclination to judge for myself. It is 
 Eot that I pretend to any skill in phrenology or 
 in reading the human soul through the medium of 
 the physiognomy: but in the present case I have 
 n secret impulse— a species of presentiment— I 
 know not how to eipress myself— which decides 
 me on paying this visit. Dare I ask you, my 
 dear Cicely, to accompany me ?" 
 
 "Oh, ask me anything but that!" exclaimed 
 -Miss Neale, with a visible shudder. " The bare 
 idea of a police-court is enough to frighten one 
 
 "Pardon me for making the request," said 
 A^nes: "but if you will not accompany me, I 
 uiust go alone." 
 
 " I sheuld be sorry to think that you ventured 
 lliilher without the countenance of some friend, 
 said Miss Neale, deliberating within herself; " and 
 therefore, if you arc so positive, and nothing can 
 deter you, my dear Agnes, I will go with you 
 
 Miss Evelyn expressed her gratitude for this 
 assent on Cicely's part ; and at about half-past 
 Ino o'clock in the afternoon, the two young ladies 
 nent forth together. And a couple well calculated 
 to attract interest and attention were Cicely and 
 Agnes. Cicely was the taller of the two, though 
 Miss Evelyn herself was above the medium 
 stature ; and if Miss Neale furnished a splendid 
 specimen of a fine-grown, robustly formed young 
 v.oman— Agnes presented the most perfect model 
 of the sylph. Both had light hair : that of Cicely 
 was now drawn partially off the forehead, am' 
 srranged in the French fashion, which admirabl 
 became her : that of Agnes was in bands, reaching 
 low beneath the ears. Both were well-dressed 
 yet without what might be called pretension ; 
 and if critical judgment were applied to their 
 toilets, it would have been decided that Miss 
 Efelyn's was the more tastefully neat and ele- 
 gantly simple. 
 
 It was shortly after three o'clock when they 
 reached the police-office in a cab which they had 
 taken for the purpose, A crowd was collected in 
 the street : but the young ladies, remaining a little 
 apart from the outskirts of the multitude, ad- 
 dressed themselves to a police-constable ; and he 
 chanced to be the very one whom Agnes had seen 
 
 I the I 
 
 old them that the examina- 
 
 tion was just over, and that the prisoner was to 
 be committed for trial. Agnes was much shocked 
 at this intelligence : but Cicely began questioning 
 the officer in respect to whatsoever had transpired 
 during the investigat; 
 
 lity. When in the passage with which the 
 private door communicated, Cicely renewed her 
 questions ; and the officer rapidly sketched the 
 leading features of the examination, — not forget- 
 ting to mention that part which so specially re- 
 ferred to the delicate hands of the prisoner and 
 the marks on the neck of the deceased. 
 
 Ah, ladies," he added, " I have no doubt, from 
 all that I have heard, Mrs. Chicklade was a bad 
 
 enough woman in her way " 
 
 Come!" said Miss Neale hastily; "let us go 
 see the unfortunate girl, since that is the ob- 
 ject of our visit." 
 
 " She is in the magistrate's private room, ladies 
 —and a constable is there," said the officer: " nor 
 will you be suffered to see her without a witness." 
 " That is of no consequence," responded Agnes ; 
 " for we have nothing of a private nature to say 
 to her." 
 
 The officer now led the way along the passage ; 
 and Cicely whispered to Agnes, " Everything here 
 strikes cold to the heart ! It produces a senaation 
 as if we were never to be liberated again !" 
 
 " What then must Winifred feel ?" asked Miss 
 Evelyn, with a profound sigh : " and still more, 
 what must she feel if she should happen to be 
 innocent ?" 
 
 Cicely had no time to give any response ; for a 
 door at which the constable had gently tapped was 
 now opened ; and he stood aside for the two 
 young ladies to enter. They passed in accordingly 
 —the door was closed again— an officer, who was 
 in the room, placed his back against it— and they 
 found themselves in the presence of the unfortu- 
 nate Winifred. She was seated at the moment in 
 a mood of the profoundest abstraction— her head 
 bent forward— her eyes looking down, but fixed on 
 vacancy — her hands clasped together, yet in that 
 listless manner which showed that they had thus 
 mechanically joined themselves — while the arms 
 drooped to their full length. Her bonnet was on 
 the floor— her shawl was flung negligently upon 
 the table : her countenance was very pale— and her 
 lips were compressed. 
 
 " Here are some ladies come to see you," said 
 the police-constable in whose charge she was. 
 
 But Winifred did not hear the announcement : 
 she remained motionless, the effigy of blank de- 
 spair itself. 
 
 " Here are some ladies, I say," cried the ofljcer 
 
 in a louder tone, " who are come " 
 
 " Hush ! do not startle her suddenly !" inter- 
 rupted Agnes, who for the few moments that had 
 elapsed since her entrance into the room, had been 
 contemplating Winifred with the most steadfast 
 attention. 
 
 The young girl had been all that day accustomed 
 to hear rude rough voices speaking around her ; 
 and thus she ha8 paid no attention to the words of 
 the constable. But the soft sweet voice of Agnes 
 Evelyn stole upon her ear : she heard it at once. 
 Thus may it often be with a sleeper in the night- 
 time, who slumbers on unconscious of the din of 
 the tempest which is roaring and raging with- 
 
 ilse you will soon be surrounded by 
 the crowd." 
 
 fie at once gave them admittance by means of 
 the magistrate's private entrance: and Agnes 
 
 ' You had better walk in, ladies," said the con- out : but if the voice of some beloved one breaks, 
 
 ' " -^ J-3 >- however lowly and gently, upon the silence of the 
 
 night, it is heard— it sinks through the medium 
 of the ear down into the heart, and tuuchos some 
 chord which in its vibration arouses the sleeper
 
 AGNES ; OK, BEAUTY AND PLEASUKE. 
 
 into wakpiulnM8. And so it was now with the 
 Jull deep reverie of the unhappy "Winifred. 
 
 " Ob, this is kind— most kind !" she said, start- 
 ing up from her seat and flinging a look upon 
 Agnes, whose voice, as we have said, she had at 
 once recognised : then she elanoed towards Cicely 
 Neale — but this young lady was a stranger to 
 her. 
 
 " Winifred ! Winifred !" exclaimed Miss Evelyn, 
 in a voice of solemn adjuration; "tell me that 
 you are innocent ! Look up to heaven — and 
 imagine that you are speaking ia the presence of 
 the Deity himself!" 
 
 It was a look of fervid gratitude mingled with 
 a beatific enthusiasm, which Winifred flung upon 
 Agnes— as if she felt that the young lady herself 
 seemed like an angel sent from heaven : and sink- 
 ing upon her knees, she said, '' Oh ! believe me — 
 believe me, I am innocent !" 
 
 "And I do believe you !" responded Agnes, ex- 
 tending her hand to raise Winifred up. " This is 
 my friend Miss Ifeale— the niece of Mr. Timperley 
 ^and she agreed to accompany me " 
 
 But Agnes stopped short; for she perceived that 
 Winifred was now gazing strangely upon Miss 
 Keale ; and she glanced quickly towards her com- 
 panion. Cicely's countenance was serious and 
 grave, as if she approved not altogether of the 
 precipitation with which her friend Agnes had 
 rushed to the conclusion of Winifred's innocence. 
 
 " That young lady," said Miss Barrington, with 
 a deeply sorrowful countenance, " believes me to 
 be guilty. And no wonder! — for circumstances 
 have terribly combined against me. Nearly every 
 one thinks that in the presence of those circum- 
 stances it is impossible I can be innocent !" 
 
 " Cicely— my dear Cicely," hastily whispered 
 Agnes, " you wrong the poor young woman — I 
 am convinced that you do !" 
 
 " I should be indeed sorry to prejudge others 
 severely," said Miss Neale, speaking in a tone 
 that was audible to Winifred as well as to Miss 
 Evelyn herself: " but doubtless, as we have come 
 hither in the capacity of friends and sympathisers 
 — if friendship and sympathy be merited. Miss 
 Barrington can have no possible objection to ox- 
 plain the circumstances which seem to press so 
 heavily against her." 
 
 At this moment there was another tap at the 
 door ; and the conversation was suspended while 
 the constable opened it. A stout, middle-aged, 
 good-looking gentleman made his appearance. 
 This was Mr. Wardour, who had laid aside his 
 forensic costume, and who had come to have an in- 
 terview with his client. His name was at once 
 gratefully ejaculated by Winifred ; and thus the 
 two young ladies loarat who he was. 
 
 " I was not aware," said Mr. Wardour, hesitat- 
 ing whether to enter, " that I might possibly be 
 intruding." 
 
 " We are mere visitresses, sir," said Miss Neale. 
 
 " My companion Miss Evelvn entertains a strong 
 
 feeling of sympathy on behalf of the accused ; 
 
 and I was just observing that this is the opportu- 
 
 I nity for the prisoner to explain those circum- 
 
 . stances which at present combine fearfully against 
 
 her." 
 ! " As you may suppose, ladies," said Mr. War- 
 I dour, " my own object in coming to this room was 
 to have some discourse nith my client. I can 
 
 scarcely suppose that she will hesitate to speak iu 
 your presence ; and as for the constable here, ha 
 is bound to secrecy in respect to whatsoever he 
 may overhear." 
 
 Mr. Wardour sat down ; and Winifred lookc.l 
 first at him— then at Agnes and Cicely- then at 
 the police-constable, with a strange expression I't' 
 countenance, as it she longed to say somethiii;;, 
 and yet on the other hand had cogent reasons for 
 remaining silent. 
 
 " If our presence be a source of embarrassment," 
 said Agnes, in a kind and gentle voice, " we will 
 withdraw." 
 
 "How is it possible," asked Miss Neale, " that 
 we who com© with the most friendly motives, can 
 be any restraint on Miss Barrington ? Those 
 who oifer sympathy and friendship where both aro 
 so much needed, have a right to be convinced that 
 they are manifesting their good feelings in the 
 proper direction." 
 
 Agnes could not help thinking there was some- 
 thing very worldly-minded, almost to harshness 
 and severity, in Cicely's speech ; though still, on 
 the other hand, she cuuld not conceal from her- 
 self that it indicated a becoming cautiousness : — 
 and she therefore made no comment upon it. 
 
 " To you, Mr. Wardour," said Winifred, in a 
 tone that was tremulous with grateful emotions, 
 " my best thanks are due. And, oh, sir !" she 
 cried, with a sudden gush of enthusiasm, at the 
 same time sinking upon her knees, " believe me — 
 I am really innocent !" 
 
 " Winifred," said Agnes, hastening forward and 
 bending down towards the unhappy girl as she I 
 
 Cfuro '(♦oil tl.of 
 
 still retained her kneeling posture, — " tell that 
 worthy gentleman everything! I beseech you to 
 have no secrets from him ! Eemember it is he 
 who is your representative in the solemn tribunal — 
 it is he who stands as it were between yourself and 
 disgrace— between your safety and your condem- 
 nation—between your life, and — and " 
 
 But Agnes stopped short — she could sot give 
 utterance to the dreadful phrase "the scaffold," 
 though she would have urged that frightful con- 
 sideration as a means of inducing Winifred to re- 
 pose the fullest confidence in her legal adviser. 
 
 " Yes, dear young lady !" exclaimed Miss Bar- 
 rington, starting up from her knees, " I will deal 
 candidly with Mr. Wardour: but— but— I must 
 speak to him alone ! I cannot in the presence of 
 
 others Oh, I scarcely know what I say I" — 
 
 and she suddenly burst into tears. 
 
 She turned away towards the window. Cicely 
 Neale shook her head ominously ; while Mr. War- 
 dour, rising from his seat, hastened to whisper to 
 Agnes, " It has often come within the range of my 
 experience, that persons situated as this unfortu- 
 nate girl is, may have explanations to give wMoh 
 can only be confided to the ears of their legal ad- 
 visers. Yet this must not be regarded either as a 
 proof of guilt, or as an evidence of ingratitude 
 for the kind sympathy which may be offered." 
 
 " I understand, Mr. Wardour," replied Agnes, 
 also speaking in a low voice : " it will be advisable 
 for my friend and myself to withdraw. Wc will 
 go. But first of all tell me— tell me, Mr. War- 
 dour— if you do not consider the question an im- 
 proper one — tell me, what is your opinion ?" 
 
 The barrister drew Miss Evelyn still farther 
 aside; and he whispered to her, but with em-
 
 AQItES; OB, BBADTT AVP TiriiHtm. 
 
 phatie accenu, ■■ M; cnnricHon is that (be la in- 
 
 " Hearen be thanked !" muriuured Agnes, 
 trembtiog with a deep sense ot joj. 
 
 " Yet," contioued ilr. "Wardotir, " I am as 
 ignorant as jou jourself are of what may be the 
 real interpretation of all those circumstances that 
 hare combined so strongly against her. And I 
 must moreover remark that though as a man I 
 believe her to be innocent, yet as a lavyer I can- 
 not shut my eyes to the fact that unless the ex- 
 planation of those circumstances be most satisfac- 
 tory, and be likewise corroborated by additional 
 testimony, a jury can come to no other conclusion 
 than that she is guilty !" 
 
 A shade of moornfulness gathered over the 
 countenance of Agnes as Mr. 'Wardour thus spoke ; 
 and she murmuringly whispered, " But she will 
 tell you everything— she has promised to be candid 
 —and we will now leave you with her," 
 
 '' It is impossible, iliss Evelyn," responded the 
 barrister, " that I should abstain from eipressing 
 my admiration for the generous, the noble, and 
 ti-uly Christian feelings which you have displayed 
 towards this unfortunate girl. I do not therefore 
 mind intimating to you that there is a certain 
 degree of mystery in the way in which I have 
 been retained on her behalf. She possesses a 
 friend who will do everything to serve her, and 
 who is firmly convinced of her innocence. The 
 assurances of this friend of hers — the representa- 
 tions thus made to me concerning her— have in- 
 fluenced my own mind, and have triumphed as it 
 were over the belief which in quite an opposite 
 sense I should have entertained, if judging only 
 I from the nature of the evidence." 
 I " Tou mean, Mr. Wardour," said Agnes, " that 
 the evidence would have led you to regard your 
 ' client as guilty, were it not for those private re- 
 presentations which have been made to you ?" 
 
 " Such is my meaning. Miss Evelyn," rejoined 
 the barrister. "And now let me entreat you to 
 steal gently forth with your friend. It will be 
 advisable to avoid a painful scene at parting from 
 the poor girl ; and I will give her the assurance 
 that if you withdrew stealthily it was not through 
 any change of sentiments in her behalf^" 
 
 While this discourse was being hurriedly carried 
 on in whispers between Agnes and the barrister, 
 ■Winifred had seated herself in the window-recess, 
 where she at first wept silently and with averted 
 countenance. She then gradually relapsed into a 
 profound state of abstraction— that half.benumbed 
 condition of the mind in which all the most vital 
 energies are crushed and weighed down by the 
 dream-like nightmare of stupendous consternation. 
 It was of this opportunity that Mr. Wardour was 
 desirous the two ladies should avail themselves ; 
 and Agnes, touching Cicely's arm, aroused the 
 latter Irom a profoundly thoughtful mood into 
 which she herself had sunk. Hiss Evelyn 
 beckoned her away— they glided noiselessly to- 
 wards the door— it was opened by the poUceman 
 — and the two ladies passed out. 
 
 The noise of opening and shutting the door 
 aroused Winifred froru ner deep numbing reverie; 
 and she started up from her seat. 
 
 " They are gone !" she exclaimed, clasping her 
 handa wildly ; " and now perhaps they Imth be- 
 Uere me guiltj !" 
 
 " S^o- you possess the sincerest sympathy of 
 that amiable and excellent young lady, Mias 
 Evelyn," answered Mr. Wardour. " Hush ! no 
 more at present !"— then turning to the police- 
 man, the barrister added, " You can leave us to- 
 gether, officer." 
 
 The constable at once recognised the privilege 
 of a legal adviser in respect to his client ; and 
 he quitted the apartment. 
 
 " Miss Evelyn believes that you are innocent," 
 said Mr. Wardour to Winifred, when they were 
 alone together : " and if she departed thus 
 abruptly, it was in consequence of my advice ; 
 for I saw that you have something to say to me 
 to which you could not give utterance in the pre- 
 I sence of those ladies." 
 
 Winifred reflected profoundly for a few mo- 
 I ments ; and then she asked, " By whom, Kr. 
 Wardour, were you instructed to appear on my 
 behalf r 
 
 " I was instructed by one," replied the bar- 
 rister, " who evidently entertains the profoundesC 
 interest in your welfare— one who proclaimed to 
 me his conviction of your innocence — one with 
 I whom you were made acquainted through the 
 
 I very medium of that woman " 
 
 j " Enough '." ejaculated Winifred, a deep crim- 
 son now suffusing her countenance, which a mo- 
 ment before was ghastly pale. " Then he has 
 
 told you " 
 
 i " Absolutely nothing !" responded Mr. War- 
 I dour, — " nothing more, at least, than what I have 
 already stated. He said that everything besidee 
 existed as your secret, which he bad sworn to retain 
 I inviolate. Ignorant of all the details of the evi- 
 ■ dence which might be brought against you, he 
 , looked forward with hope and confidence to your 
 ! discbarge from custody ; for it was Ute last night 
 j that he came to me — and the evening papers con- 
 I tained but a short paragraph upon the sad subject. 
 I He did not therefore at that time anticipate 
 I such a result as your committal. And now, MJM 
 
 I Barrington, it is for you to explain " 
 
 I " Yes, sir— I will explain everything !" eaid 
 I Winifred, with a sudden access of firmness. "I 
 j will give you these explanations for several rea- 
 ' sons. In the first place because I so emphatically 
 ' pledged myself to Miss Evelyn that I would do 
 I so : in the second place because your own gene- 
 ! rous and noble conduct towards me demands my 
 j fullest confidence ; and in the third place because 
 I yon at least shall be enabled, whatsoever may 
 1 be the result, to give the assurance of my inno- 
 cence to such kind friends as Miss Evelyn and 
 Mrs. Slater who have shown that they believe 
 me guiltless." 
 
 " But you forget. Miss Barrington," said Mr. 
 Wardour, " the most important reason of all 
 ; wherefore you should give me these explanations. 
 I It is that I may use them for your defence whtn 
 
 the time shall come " 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Wardour!" exclaimed Winifred 
 firmly ; " it may be that those explanatioDi 
 shall never be thus used at all ! In a word, 
 it is under the seal of the strictest secrecy that 
 I am about to tell you everything." 
 
 " Do you mean me to understand, Miss Bar. 
 rington," asked Mr. Wardour, in amazement. 
 " that you will not avail yourself of every pus 
 sible meant to prove your i
 
 AQKES; OB, BBAUIY AND FLSASUBE. 
 
 " I mean »ir," abe responded, with continued to haye to grope his way in the dark. Besides, 
 6rnines8, " that I will not ayail myself of the he was not uomindful of the fact that though a 
 explanations I am about to give you, for my de- pledge of secrecy might prerent him from dealing 
 fence on the day of trial." I in a direct manner with the explanations hia 
 
 The barrister gazed with wonderment upon the , client offered to give, ~ yet that he might be 
 young woman ; and at length he said, " Under- , enabled to draw upon them indirectly, and with- 
 stand me well. Miss Barrington. It is my duty out a violation of the sacred confidence reposed in 
 as your advocate to put into requisition every him, for materials to serve as hints and suggea- 
 possible means that shall come within my reach | tions fur the line of defence to be adopted on the 
 to demonstrate your innocence ; and therefore I ' day of the trial. And then, too, there 
 
 can give no pledge of secrecy on any poii 
 atiog thereto." 
 
 " In that case, sir," answered Winifred mourn- 
 fully, " I must recall my pledge— I must remain 
 silent." 
 
 "Good heavens!" cried Mr. Wardour, "what 
 deep mysterious meaning is there in all tbisp" 
 
 But Winifred gave no answer : she only looked 
 with a deep deprecating sorrow upon the benevo- 
 lent and intelligent countenance of the barrister. 
 
 " Tou assure me," he resumed, " that you are 
 
 " Ob, yes !" she cried, clasping her hands to- 
 gether,— "as innocent as you yourself are !" 
 
 " Do you apprehend," inquired Mr. Wardour, 
 " that your explanations, if given, would iucul- 
 pate any other person in whom jou may be in- 
 terested ?" 
 
 " No !" rejoined Winifred. ** I am utterly at i 
 
 could be the perpetrator both shall be respected." 
 
 tmgency to be associated with the pledge of 
 secrecy— or rather with the maintenance of that 
 silence ; and it was expedient that he should learn 
 what anticipated event could possibly exercise so 
 powerful an influence over the circumstances ia 
 which his client was placed. All these considera- 
 tions, therefore, decided Mr. Wardour in the 
 course that he should adopt; and he at length 
 said, " I will give you. Miss Barriogton, the 
 solemn pledge which you require." 
 
 " But remember, Mr. Wardour," said Winifred, 
 " that this promise is not to be lightly given ! — it 
 is not to be hereafter violated, and then the viola- 
 tion itself justified— or attempted to be justified — 
 by the plea that confidence was sacrificed by the 
 barrister to the vital interests of the client !" 
 
 " All this I understand. Miss Barrington," was 
 the response: "or at least I understand that it is 
 your earnest wish and solemn stipulation — and 
 
 of the crime. I swear to you that this is the 
 truth !" 
 
 " Perhaps, then. Miss Barrington," resumed 
 Mr. Wardour, — " pardon me for what I am about 
 to say— but it is necessary, — perhaps you are ap- 
 prehensive that your revelations — I scarcely know 
 
 how to express myself But, in short, the de- 
 
 ceased woman's character was a very bad one — 
 she may have beguiled your innocence — she may 
 have led you astray as she has doubtless done 
 
 many others in her time " 
 
 " Ob, Mr. Wardour !" cried Winifred, with 
 burning blushes upon her cheeks; "give me an 
 opportunity of telling you the entire tale !— swear 
 to me that you will respect it as a secret to be 
 revealed only in a certain contingency, which I 
 will likewise explain 1 mean in case a particu- 
 lar event should happen which, alas ! may be 
 
 only too probable! Swear to me, in this sense, I 
 ' repeat — and I will at once tell you everything. 
 I Then you will know all ! You will comprehend 
 I wherefore I gave utterance to those words respect- 
 ing the spirit of a tigress being aroused within 
 nw— you will understand also how the ring came 
 into my possession— and what I meant when in a 
 paroxysm of anguish I besought the constable not 
 to take it from me, /or that he was ignorant how 
 much it had cott me to obtain it ! Oh, let me in 
 confidence tell you everything ! I would fain 
 merit your good opinion— and it would be a deep, 
 deep solace to me to know that I have placed you 
 in a position to give the assurance of my inno- 
 cence wheresoever sympathy is experienced on my 
 behalf!" 
 
 Mr. Wardour meditated profoundly for some 
 minutes : he was much struck by the impassioned 
 and vehement manner in which Winifred had 
 spoken ; and he reflected within himself that for a 
 thousand reasons it would be better, as her advo- 
 cate, to be acquainted with the whole truth than 
 
 Yes, Mr. Wardour," continued Winifred, now 
 drawing close to the barrister and speaking in a 
 low deep voice and with a strange fixedness of 
 look: "yes— even though I should be brought to 
 the very extremity itself— that I should have one 
 foot planted upon the steps leading to the scaf- 
 fold !" 
 
 " I understand— and I assent !" rejoined the 
 professional gentleman. " Strange, unaccountable 
 girl that you are !" he exclaimed, contemplating 
 her earnestly; and he thought within himself, 
 " There is either idiocy to deplore in all this — or 
 else there is something magnanimous and self- 
 sacrificing to admire !" 
 
 Winifred now took a chair opposite to that in 
 which Mr. Wardour had seated himself; and she 
 commenced her narrative. But we are not at 
 present enabled to initiate the reader into the 
 mysteries of these explanations. Suffice it to say 
 that they were listened to with the profoundest 
 interest— and that when they were concluded, Mr." 
 Wardour argued at length with his young client. 
 She however proved firm to her purpose; and that 
 purpose remained utterly unshaken when Mr. 
 Wardour took leave of her. 
 
 Soon after five o'clock Winifred Barrington was 
 conducted from the magistrate's private room, and 
 was again placed ia the dock. All the witnesses 
 were once more present (with the exception of 
 Mrs. Slater, who had been taken home ill) to hear 
 the depositions read over ; and the magistrate then 
 formally committed the prisoner to Newgate, to 
 take her trial at the next session of the Central 
 Criminal Court for the murder of Dorothy Chick- 
 lade. 
 
 On the following day the Coroner held an in- 
 quest upon the body, at the publichouse to which 
 it bad been conveyed ; and the same testimony 
 (with the exception of that of Mrs. Slater) as had 
 been given before the magistrate, was adduced at
 
 86 
 
 1GSE3; OK, BEiDTT ASD PLEAStJEE. 
 
 this jMond investigation. TUe prisoner was not 
 however present at the inquiry : for many of our 
 readers are doubtless aware that the Coroners for 
 Middlesex have long been at lojgcrheads with the 
 magistrates in respect to the right of having pri- 
 soners under such circumstances brought up before 
 them ; and the Secretary of State has refused to 
 interfere with the authority of a magistrate's re- 
 mand or committal. Thus, in consequence of this 
 dispute, 'Winifred was spared the ordeal of being 
 present at a second examination into her ease; 
 aivd we must now leave the unfortunate girl in 
 Kewgate. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIL 
 
 TSB LEXIEBS. 
 
 It was between eight and nine o'clock in the 
 evening of the day on which Winifred's examina- 
 tion at the police-eourt bad taken place, that 
 Cicely Neale, dressed in very plain apparel, and 
 with a thick black veil concealing her counte- 
 nance, alighted from a cab in Fitzroy Square. She 
 at once dismissed the vehicle, and bent her way 
 on foot towards Iforton Street, which is in the 
 immediate neighbourtood of that Square. 
 
 Kortcin Street is not famed for its exceeding 
 respectability: indeed within the last year or two 
 the nuisances occasioned by houses of evil repute 
 in that thoroughfare, have been brought before 
 the public through the medium of the newspapers, 
 and have been rendered subjects of CDmplaint on 
 the part of the tradesmen and the few respectable 
 persons who dwell in the locality. Of an equally 
 bad renown was Norton Street in the year 1S4S, 
 of which we are writing; and yet Cicely Neale, 
 in spite of having read in the daily journals that 
 such was its ill fame, was now wending her way 
 thiiUer — unattended — between eight and nine 
 o'clock in the evening. 
 
 On entering the street. Cicely glanced, by the 
 «id of the lamp-light, at the numbers on the doors 
 of the houses, to see which way they ran; and 
 having ascertained the point, she proceeded in the 
 direction of a particular dwelling which she 
 sought. She soon reached it; and she rang at 
 the bell — for she would not use the knocker, for 
 fear lest the sound might arrest the notice of the 
 passers-by. The door was almost instantaneously 
 opened by a middle-aged woman, somewhat flaunt, 
 iogly dressed, although she was nothing but a ser- 
 vant. She gave ft certain significant leer — at once 
 closed the front door when Cicely bad crossed the 
 threshold— and without saying a word, conducted 
 her into a parlour, where the curtains were closed, 
 lights were burning, and a fire was also blazing— 
 for it was the beginning of October, and the even- 
 ings were cold. 
 
 " You perhaps expect to meet some one here, 
 ma'am ?" said the woman, with a half-fawning, 
 half-familiar manner. 
 
 '■ No," replied Cicely, with a species of disdain- 
 ful peremptoriness. " I wish to speak to the 
 mistress of the house— Mrs. Maddox, I believe 
 her name U ?" 
 
 " Oh ! very good, ma'am," responded the 
 woman. " Mrs. Maddox shall be with you im- 
 mediately." 
 
 She then retired; and in less ttian « minnte 
 Mrs. Maddox made her appearance. She was a 
 woman of about forty : she had evidently once 
 been handsome ; but her cheeks were now covered 
 with rouge ; and her figure had lost all its pristine 
 symmetry in a gross embonpoint. She was ap- 
 parelled with a mingled richness and tawdrincss ; 
 she had a bold insolent look, and a manner which I 
 was less fawning bat more familiar than that of 
 her domestic. j 
 
 Cicely had remained standing in front of the 
 fire, with her veil still closely drawn over her 
 countenance, and so disposed in several thick folda 
 as to defy as much as possible the gaze of Mrs. 
 Maddox from obtaining a glimpse of her features. 
 The instant the woman of the bouse made her ap- j 
 pearance, Miss Neale turned towards her; and i 
 through that thick curtaining veil she sorveyed | 
 her with s keen penetrating glance, as if to aseer- j 
 tain vfhether she were a person likely to fall into | 
 the views and objects which had brought the 
 young lady thither. i 
 
 "Pray be seated, ma'am," said Mrs. Maddox, | 
 politely placing a chair for the accommodation cf 
 her visitress. ] 
 
 " It is not necessary," answered Miss Neale, | 
 disguising her voice somewhat. "My business { 
 will be soon explained; and you can speedily state | 
 whether it is in your power to assist me in my 
 aim. I may not take up more than half-a.dozea | 
 minutes of your time : but here are as many 1 
 guineas to recompense you." 
 
 " I'm sore, ma'am, I'm exceedingly obliged," 
 answered Mrs. Maddox, accepting the coins which 
 were thrust into her band, and inwardly hoping i 
 that it might indeed prove in her power to assise | 
 the object of one who gave such an earnest of her I 
 liberality. ; 
 
 " I shall speedily come to the point," proceeded ! 
 Miss Neale ; " but I may as well observe in the 
 first instance, that if you be able and willing to | 
 render me the service I seek, double the amount j 
 which I have just placed in yoor bands ahall be I 
 ^ours." '. 
 
 "•I am willing enough, ma'am," rejoined iin. | 
 Maddox ; " and if I should be fortunate enough 
 
 to find myself able But won't you sit down, 
 
 and take a glass of wine or some little refresh- ! 
 ment ?" j 
 
 " No," answered Cicely, who perfectly well com- ! 
 prebended that the woman's curiosity was piqued 
 in respect to her countenance over which she so j 
 carefully maintained the folds of her veil. "And ' 
 now to the point. I believe it was in this house — I 
 at least so the newspapers say— that Mrs. Chick- 
 lade " 
 
 " Ah, yes ! poor dear creature !" said Mrs. 
 Maddox, suddenly deeming it expedient to fall 
 into the dismals. " As good a woman " 
 
 " Nonsense !" interrupted Cicely : " none of this 
 maudlin hypocrisy with me !" 
 
 " AVell, ma'am, I dare say you are right," an- 
 swered Mrs. Maddox quickly : " for a more in- 
 famous old ha» than Mrs. Chieklade never existed : 
 and perhaps it is quite as well " 
 
 " I have not come to discuss the merits of that 
 question," interjected Cicely, with a renewed 
 peremptoriness of tone. " Have the kindness to 
 listen, with as little comment of your own as i>os- 
 dWe. Mrs. Chieklade lived here— and I supposa
 
 AGNES ; OB, BEAUTT AKD PLEASDEE. 
 
 87 
 
 that when the intelligence reached you of her 
 death, tou thought proper to lock up her boxes 
 and other effects, whatsoever she may have pos- 
 sessed, in case any one should come forward to 
 claii" them as her heir?" 
 
 " Ob, dear me, ma'am !" exclaimed Mrs. Mad- 
 dox, for a moment looking frightened : " every- 
 thing belonging to the poor dear 1 mean the 
 
 shucking bad woman, has been taken the utmost 
 cars of : and if you, ma'am, have any claim, and 
 will of course prove it " 
 
 " I a claim upon the woman ?— heaven forbid !" 
 cried iliss Neale, disdainfully. 
 
 '■ Well, ma'am," responded Mrs. Maddoi, 
 taking courage, " I was thinking to myself that a 
 young, elegant, and handsome young lady such as 
 
 '• Cease thia flattering nonsense," interrupted 
 Cicely. " How do you know that I am hand- 
 some ? It is the very reverse : I am as ugly as 
 Sin," she added, feeling quite confident that the 
 dense folds of her veil might well enable her thus 
 to calumniate her ow;n good looks. '^ Understand 
 me well ! I have no claim upon the late Mrs. 
 Chicklade: I should hang or drown myself if I 
 bad the misfortune to be of the remotest kinship 
 with such a person. Neither am I come to inter- 
 1 fere with anything that you may have done in 
 reference to her goods and chattels. If you found 
 a hoard of guineas in her bos and substituted half- 
 
 pence, 
 
 
 Goodness gracious !" exclaimed Mrs. Maddox, 
 "what a singular lady you are!"— and she 
 affocted to bold up her hands in admiring asto- 
 
 " Perhaps eo," rejoined Miss Neale quietly. 
 " But whatsoever you may have done with money 
 or trinkets belonging to the deceased, you will at 
 least admit that if there were any letters or papers 
 in her box, they are of no use to you." 
 
 " Oh, dear me, ma'am !" ejaculated Mrs. Mad- 
 dox, " I can assure you I never opened a single 
 letter that I found in the box " 
 
 "Well then there were letters," interrupted 
 the young lady with emphasis. " That admission is 
 made— and it is a step in the right direction. 
 Now the object of my visit may be explained in a 
 few words, I want you to give me up every docu- 
 ment, letter, paper— even to the veriest scrap— that 
 you may have found in Mrs. Chicklade's box. J)o 
 this at once— and I make up to twenty guineas 
 the sum already placed in your hand." 
 
 " Well, ma'am, I confess," answered Mrs. 
 Maddox, straining her eyes with all her might to 
 penetrate through the folds of Cicely's veil, yet 
 without appearing to do so— and failing also in 
 the attempt, for the thick black lace was imper- 
 vious to the woman's regards; "well, ma'am, I 
 confess that there was a little packet of papers ; 
 and I take heaven to witness I have not yet had 
 time 1 mean to say I have not had the imper- 
 tinent curiosity to pry into them." 
 
 "But you have put them away somewhere?" 
 said Miss Neale inquiringly: "you did not give 
 them up to the police when they came to the 
 house ; for if you had, the incident would have 
 been mentioned at the examination of the mur- 
 deress to-day— and I was at the Court and have 
 learnt everything that transpired, besides reading 
 it all in the evening paper." 
 
 " Well, no, ma'am," rejoined Mrs. Maddox, "I 
 did not give the letters up to the police. In the 
 first place these fellows are so excessively bump- 
 tious that I for one should not think of helping 
 them in any single respect. In the second place, 
 though I agree with you that Mrs. Chicklade was 
 a bad woman, yet there would be no use in letting 
 the poor wretch's private matters come before the 
 world. And in the third place, ma'am, how do I 
 know but what some respectable and good names 
 might be delicately mixed up in those letters? 
 You understand mc, ma'am ?" 
 
 " I understand you so well," answered Cicely, 
 " that I should bo a fool to suppose you do not 
 penetrate the reason for which I want to get pos- 
 session of those papers. C see plain enough that 
 you have secreted them ajmewhere; and you were 
 right in so doing. Now, here is the money," 
 added Miss Neale, shaking her purse to show that 
 it was well filled ; " and when you produce the 
 papers, my pledge shall be liberally redeemed." 
 
 " And you promise me, ma'am," said Mrs. 
 Maddox hesitatingly, " that it's all square, and 
 that this is no plant put upon an unsuspecting 
 body " 
 
 "Nonsense!" ejaculated Cicely, the emphasis 
 with which she spoke receiving an impulse from 
 her disgust at the slang terms made use of by the 
 woman. "Do you think that if the police' had 
 suspected you had secreted such papers, and that 
 they were of any use, so wretched a trick as this 
 would be resorted to as a means of obtaining 
 them, when a scarch-warraat might be issued and 
 a posse of constables would overwhelm jour esta- 
 blishment in a moment ?" 
 
 " True !" said Mrs. Maddox, her mind evidently 
 relieved by this stern and home-thrusting line of 
 argument from the lips of her strange visitress, 
 " Well, ma'am, the papers may bo your's; but still, 
 as they are perhaps of more value than I at pre- 
 sent have an idea of, I would rather wait till to- 
 morrow before I conclude the bargain " 
 
 "Now or never!" interrupted Miss Neale em- 
 phatically. " I see what you are aiming at. It is 
 to get a better prico for your papers, 1 will give 
 you twenty guineas in addition to the sum you 
 have already received— and not one shilling more ! 
 You may be cunning— but I am decisive. Wo 
 now understand each other. Not another word is 
 necessary. Accept or decline the bargain, just as 
 you think fit : but tell me now and at once," 
 
 " Well, ma'am, it shall be as you wish," re- 
 sponded Mrs, Maddox, who saw that she had in- 
 deed a decisive character to deal with : then, with 
 a significant smile, she asked, " Isn't it rum, 
 though, that you should have been standing all 
 this while just above the very things we have been 
 talking about ?" 
 
 " Not at all extraordinary, since you have con- 
 cealed them there," observed Miss Neale;— and 
 she stepped off the hearthrug as Mrs. Maddox 
 stooped down towards it. 
 
 The woman rolled it partially up and raised a 
 portion of the carpet which it had covered : she 
 then lifted a piece of one of the planks forming 
 the floor ; and from the recess which it revealed, 
 she produced a small packet of letters, tied round 
 with a dingy bit of ribbon. Cicely had plunged 
 her regards into the recess, so as to make sure 
 that all the documents which it contained were
 
 AGHES; OE, BEAUTT A>tD PLEASUKE. 
 
 being handed OTor to her ; and eatisSed upon the 
 point, she counted down twenty guineas upon tha 
 table. These Mrs. Maddox grasped with avidity ; 
 and Miss Neale, having aecured the packet about 
 her person, issued from the room. 
 
 " Permit me ?" said Mrs. Maddoi, officiously 
 hastening forward in the passage to open the front 
 door. 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself," said Cicely, getting 
 before hen "I would rather open the door for 
 myself." 
 
 At the same time— while with one band upon 
 the latch — with the other she dexterously drew 
 forth the key ; and this little proceeding was to- 
 tally unsuspected by Mrs. Maddox. 
 
 " Grood evening, ma'am," said Ibis woman, won- 
 dering whether she should ever see her strange 
 visitress again, and wondering also what her face 
 could be like : for never once throughout the in- 
 terview bad she obtained tha slightest glimpse of 
 Miss Neale's features. 
 
 "Good evening," answered Cicely: and she 
 issued from the house. 
 
 The front door closed behind her— she thrust 
 the key into the lock— turned it— drew it forth, 
 and then dropped it down the area. 
 
 " I cannot now be followed !" she said to her- 
 self, as she passed rapidly along the street. " The 
 woman knows not who I am— suspects not— and 
 never can ascertain! She was burning with 
 curiosity— but I have disappointed her in every 
 respect!" 
 
 Miss Neale was infinitely delighted with the re- 
 sult of her visit to the house of questionable repu- 
 tation in Norton Street. She walked on at a quick 
 pace, in order to obtain a cab as speedily as pos- 
 sible to take her home : but just as she was turning 
 a corner into another street, she was suddenly 
 caught round the waist by a tall young gentleman, 
 who was smoking a cigar, and who exclaimed, 
 " Whither away so quick, my pretty one ?— for I'll 
 be bound that this veil covers no common-looking 
 
 The words were spoken with the insolent fami- 
 liarity of a young rake who fancied that he was 
 fully justified in thus treating any female whom he 
 might chance to meet alone in that neighbourhood 
 and at that hour of the evening. The single ejacu- 
 lation, " Ah !" came from the lips of Cicely, as by 
 a sudden turn she released herself from the arm 
 that had been thrown round her waist : and then 
 she stood for a few moments u if irresolute what 
 course to adopt. 
 
 " Come, lift that veil of your's," said the young 
 rake, " and let me see the features it covers. If 
 the face corresponds with the form " 
 
 " Follow me !" Miss Neale suddenly said, speak- 
 ing in a feigned tone as she laid her hand upon 
 the gentleman's arm : and she hastened along 
 the street, having satisfied herself by a glance 
 thrown over her shoulder, that he was upon her 
 track. 
 
 The adventure seemed to promise amusement, if 
 not novelty; and the gentleman had not thcrofore 
 hesitated to obey her invitation that he should 
 follow. She led the way into Fitzroy Square; 
 and when the disreputable quarter which she had 
 just visited was thus escaped from, she stopped 
 short. The gentleman immediately rejoined her ; 
 uid the raised her veil. 
 
 " Cicely !" he ejaculated, startiog back in aston- 
 ishment : " is it possible ?" 
 
 "Tes- it is I, Hector," she answered, "I 
 have sought an interview with you — and accident 
 has now favoured my wish." 
 
 " Accident indeed !" cried the Hon. Mr. Har- 
 dress— for he the gentleman was. "And a pretty 
 place I find you in " 
 
 " Hector," interrupted Miss Neale, half-iodig- 
 nantly and half- reproachfully, "if I were indeed 
 reduced to that state of infamy which is implied 
 by your suspicion, whose fault would it be ? But 
 bad as you are— and badly therefore as you may 
 judge of others — you cannot seriously and delibe- 
 rately think that I have sunk down to such de. 
 gradation as this I" 
 
 " My dear girl," answered Hector, now caress- 
 ing his moustache with a cool superciliousness, 
 while his tone indicated a sort of half-insolent, 
 half-patronising familiarity, " it certainly is not 
 unnatural I should have entertained such a sus- 
 picion on finding you in such a neighbourhood. 
 Perhaps you would believe me if I were to pro- 
 claim that my sole object in visiting it was to dis- 
 tribute religious tracts, or seek to reform some of 
 the unfortunate creatures " 
 
 " A truce to this hideous mockery !" ejaculated 
 Miss Neale, with accents of indignation and dis- 
 gust. " For my own sake I will tell you why I 
 am here. Do you not know that a certain person 
 who on occasions has only too well served your 
 purposes " 
 
 " Ah ! you allude to Mother Chicklade ?" inter- 
 jected Hardress, with a cool contemptuousness of 
 
 tone. " Well, she has met her death at last ■ 
 
 but I cannot see what that has got to do with 
 your presence in this neighbourhood." 
 
 " Are you ignorant that the vile woman herself 
 lived in this neighbourhood P" demanded Cicely: 
 "have you not read that much in the news- 
 papers?" 
 
 "Yes— now that I recollect," said Hardress, 
 " she did live in the very street from which you 
 were issuing forth so rapidly." 
 
 "And perhaps," continued Cicely, "it may 
 occur to you that there was a possibility of this 
 woman being in possession of some letters or 
 billets in which my name might be mentioned : 
 for I believe that she was occasionally honoured 
 by receiving a written communication from the 
 gentleman whom I am now addressing ?" 
 
 There was a certain sarcasm and a subdued 
 bitterness pervading Miss Neale's accents as she 
 thus spoke; while her eyes were fixed upon the 
 countenance of the young patrician. 
 
 "Ah, yes," he said, with a careless indifference 
 of tone and manner; "it is probable that if the 
 dame were in the habit of preserving her papers 
 at all, she may have had specimens of my hand- 
 writing amongst them." 
 
 " And although the Hon. Hector Hardress," 
 continued Cicely, " may be utterly indifferent in 
 respect to his own name being found figuring 
 amongst the papers which such a woman might 
 possess, it is not so with me. If those letters 
 were published to the world, the Hon. Hector 
 Hardress need not hold his head one whit less 
 high than at present : the colour need not deepen 
 upon liis cheeks : he would liave no fear that tha 
 finger of scorn would point at him — that bis com-
 
 panions would shun him— or that society would 
 repudiate him. But is it so with me? No, 
 
 Hector— and jou know it ! Ton may make a 
 jest anj a boast of that which to me would be 
 oe^Tudation, dishonour, and ruin ! And now do 
 you comprehend wherefore I could have done ao 
 much violence to my feelings as to plunge amidst 
 those mazes of infamy— dive for a few minutes 
 into one of those cesspools of abhorrent vice and 
 loathsome impurity— and purchase with gold those 
 documents which may possibly be the proofs and 
 records of my own shame ?" 
 
 " And was it really for this that you visited tbc 
 neighbourhood ?" inquired Hector. 
 
 "for no oth?r reason," responded Cicely; and 
 the tone of both was growing more serious. '" I 
 am residing with my uncle and aunt in Lincoln's 
 Inn Fields : I have stolen forth on some pretext 
 • — and I have accomplished my aim. Perchance 
 It may prove that my apprehension was groundless 
 No. I2.-A0NES. 
 
 and my precaution unnecessary ; but if so, at 
 least no harm will have been done. If however, 
 on the other hand, the apprehensiuu were well 
 founded and the precaution were well taken, so 
 much the better ! I shall in that case have saved 
 myself from the total loss of those wrecks of hap- 
 piness which your perfidy has left me." 
 
 " And how long have you been in London, 
 Cicely?" asked Hector, not appearing to notice 
 the bitter allusion contained in "her last words. 
 
 " Only a few days," she replied. " I waited 
 and waited to see whether the dream in which I 
 was cradling myself would be fulfilled— whether 
 your long silence would at length be broken and 
 
 nted for: I could 
 
 resign 
 
 idea that I was utterly abando 
 became impossible to live any longer in such a 
 delusion — to feed myself with hopes which only 
 turned into the gall of despair; and so I resolved 
 to come up to London. You know that after my
 
 no 
 
 AGSES; OE, BBACTT AND PLEASCBB. 
 
 mother's death, my aunt Mrs. Timperley wished 
 me to reside henceforth with her ; you know also 
 the motives for which I refused. But every letter 
 which I from time to time received from my 
 aunt assured me that I should find a home with 
 her whenever I chose to accept it ; and therefore 
 I at length gave up the cottage — 1 left the neigh* 
 bourhood of Cambridge — and I came to Lon- 
 
 *' And perhaps you have done well, Cicely," 
 answered Hector, again relapsing into his accus- 
 tomed tone of careless indifference and fashionable 
 languor; "for the reputation of a young lady, 
 living in the neighbourhood of a University — 
 alone and unprotected — could scarcely fail to 
 suffer. Not that 1 believe there was ever a sus- 
 picion entertained of anything that passed between 
 you and me : for, thanks to the assistance of the 
 old dame that has just met her death, everything 
 was so well managed as to defy suspicion. So 
 that now being in London — and as I have under- 
 stood that your uncle and aunt, though I have not 
 the pleasure of knowing them, see a good deal of 
 society — you will have an opportunity of capti- 
 vating some handsome and wealthy young fel- 
 low " 
 
 " Your words are an outrage !" suddenly ejacu- 
 lated Miss Neale with vehemence. " Is it pos- 
 eible that you can mean to insult me thus?" 
 
 " Insult you, my dear girl ?" reepoaded Hard- 
 Tess. " I really had do such intention. You jusc 
 now said something of making a boast of one's 
 amours : but I pledge you my honour that I have 
 never breathed your name disrespeetfulty." 
 
 " If I thought that you had. Hector," quickly 
 rejoined Miss Keale, her eyes flashing with fierce- 
 ness, " I would be bitterly avenged — much as I 
 have loved you— and much," she added, her voice 
 losing its vehemence and sinking into a mournful 
 lowntss, " as I still love you." 
 
 " Well, I am sure," observed Hector, "if there 
 was any harm in my expressing the supposition 
 that you would endeavour to settle yourself com- 
 fortably by marriage " 
 
 "Dare not allude to it!" ejaculated Cicely. 
 " Do you think that I would play so treacherous 
 a part towards any honourable and confiding man 
 who in the belief of my virtue should offer me 
 his hand ? No— I would not do it ! Or again, 
 Hector," continued Miss Neale, gaaing fully upon 
 him with her large blue eyes, " do you think that 
 I have released you from your sacred pledges and 
 solemn promises— or that 1 have resigned my love 
 and my hope?" 
 
 " Cicely," answered Hector, " you are no silly 
 romantic girl- your age, I remember, corresponds 
 Dretty closely with my own— and therefore you 
 are tweiity-two. You are a young woman, and 
 not a puling Miss fresh from the boarding-school. 
 TTou must therefore know what value to attach 
 to the oaths and protestations made by a young 
 fellow when he was a student at the University. 
 I see that we must umlerstand each other " 
 
 '•■ It was precisely for this reason," interjected 
 Cicely, " that I was anxious to obtain an inter- 
 view with you ! For your peace and for my own 
 reputation, I have forborne from seeking you at 
 your father's mansion. But now at last we have 
 met : and I will ask you. Hector Hardress, to tell 
 me whether you seriously and deliberately intend 
 
 to become perjured and forsworn — whether yea 
 can scatter to the winds all the vows which you 
 invoked heaven itself to attest— and whether you 
 dare treat with levity the awful oaths you pledged 
 to me in the sight of God?" 
 
 " Now look you, my dear Cicely," answered 
 Hector, "all this would read uncommonly well in 
 a romance— it would be startling and effective- 
 but it will not do for a reasonable couple standing 
 in the midst of the very uarom»ntic region of 
 Fitzroy Square." 
 
 " By this admixture of levity and insolence- of 
 superciliousness and outrage," said Misa Neale, "I 
 am to understand that you dare beeomo a perjurer 
 — that you have the courage to be forsworn » 
 Beware, Hector Hardress! — there i» retribution 
 to b« dealt by the hand of an cfTended heaven ; 
 and there is vengeance to be indicted by that of a 
 wronged and deceived woman ! You have a sister, 
 the beautiful Josephine— you have often s[»ken to 
 me of her — you have mentioned her lovingly and 
 affectionately when you were a different being fron. 
 what you now are,— when you were unspoilt by 
 the frivolities, the duplicities, and I am afraid that 
 I may even say the viUanies of that dissipated 
 world in which you are moving. But if any one 
 were to deceive your sister as you have deceived 
 nu — if any one were to wrong and outrage Jar as 
 
 you have wronged and outraged me " 
 
 " Come, Cicely," interrupted Heotor, " this is a 
 topic on which I do not choose to converse." 
 
 "And yet it is one on which you shall hear 
 me !" replied Miss Neale, with that firmness which 
 belonged to her character. " I see that I have 
 j touched you upon a vulnerable point. You wouli 
 avenge your sister's disgrace— you would seek to 
 wipe away her dishonour in the blood of her be- 
 j trayer ! But if such be your feelings and such 
 j your sentiments, how can you entertain the hope 
 I of playing in your own person the part of a be- 
 1 trayer with impunity ? Cicely Neale has a heart as 
 1 well as the Honourable Josephine Hardress. She 
 has likewise a reputation as well as that lady ; and 
 her good name is as dear to her and to her fricmis 
 i as that of the Honourable Josephine Hardress is 
 j to herself and to her own family ! Therefore, 
 1 once again I say " 
 
 ' " Cicely," interrupted the young patrician with 
 'vehemence, "I will hear no more upon the sub- 
 ject ! You are not so mad as to think that I can 
 espouse you. But after everything that has taken 
 place between us, I am willing to repair to the 
 
 estent of my power whatsoever wrong " 
 
 " Stop, Hector !" cried Cicely, her cheeks be- 
 coming excessively pale, and her white teeth 
 I gleaming between the full lips whence the rich 
 ! colour had fled, and which were quivering with 
 the strength of her emotions : " it would only 
 require this last insult to turn all my love into 
 hatred and to render me implacably your foe ! 
 But lot us not come to that ^jint : drive me not 
 j to that extreme ! Oh, i am well aware that 
 when the diadem of purity has once fallen from 
 ! the brow of a woman, her libertine betrayer 
 j rushes to the conclusion that with gold he may 
 indemnify her— that with gold he can heal the 
 wounds that his perfidy has dealt in her sensitive 
 I and too confiding heart 1 And doubtless there 
 I are many women who will accept that indemniS 
 I cation, and who in the sordidneas, the selfishness
 
 ASHES ; OB, BEAUIY AST) PLEASUSE 
 
 uod the depravity of their feeliDga will regard gold 
 as a balm for those wounded hearts of theirs. 
 But I am not one of them !" 
 
 "In the name of heaven, Cicely," cried Hector 
 Hardress, " cut short this tirade, and tell me to 
 what it is all to lead. We have already stood 
 here for a good half-hour— and we shall presently 
 sttract disagreeable notice." 
 
 "To you, at least, such notice cannot bo un- 
 pleasant," answered Cicely, with a haughty, 
 ominous coolness of tone and manner, — " inas- 
 much as you voluntarily seek neighbourhoods of 
 a confirmed evil repute. As for myself, I can 
 speedily escape from the inconvenience of any 
 special observation :"— and she drew the folds of 
 her veil over her countenance. " As for that 
 speech," she continued, " which you have so un. 
 generously and with so much want of manly cour- 
 tesy denominated o tirade, I will cut it short. I 
 no longer deceive myself with the slightest hope 
 in your honour, your good faith — no, nor even in 
 your compassion and your mercy. But you shall 
 not trample. Hector Hardress, even upon the 
 worm, with impunity !— for that worm shall turn 
 against you. If you scorn and despise me, I will 
 be' signally avenged !" 
 
 " I am sorry to bear you speaking in this strain, 
 Cicely," responded Hardress ; " because it is really 
 insensate on your part, and you will perhaps only 
 drive me to the declaration that I defy such vague 
 and empty threats." 
 
 " They are neither vague nor empty," answered 
 Miss Heale, with a strange firmness ff tone, as if 
 she were confident of being enabled to carry out 
 her menaces with a fearful effect. " It is impos- 
 sible that an injured woman, who devotes herself 
 heart and soul to the task of vengeance — who 
 broods over it by day and dreams of it by night— 
 who is ever on the watch for the opportunity to 
 execute it — who is determined to shrink at nothing 
 that may tend to the furtherance of her purpose 
 
 uUimately fail in the attainment of her object. 
 That opportunity may present itself to-morrow— 
 or it may be patiently awaited for years: but 
 still sooner or later it will come ! Oh, rest as- 
 sured that it will come ! And now, Hector, 1 1 
 have no more to say. You have decided that 
 hatred is to take the place of love : let it be so ! 
 She who was most devoted in her love, can prove \ 
 most implacable in her hatred." j 
 
 Having thus spoken, Cicely jSTeale glided rapidly 
 away from the spot where she had for upwards of 
 half-an-hour stood in discourse with the young 
 patrician ; and he remained gazing after her with i 
 A certain vague sensation of dismay and affright, I 
 until she disappeared from his view in the nearest \ 
 street diverging from the square. He then forced 
 himself to give utterance to a low chuckling laugh 
 of scorn and contempt: but by degrees these were 
 veritably the feelings which took possession of his 
 mind in regard to Cicely IsTeale, when the stronger 
 and sterner influence which her parting words ' 
 temporarily shod upon him had worn off. i 
 
 But let us return to Cicely Neale. When at 
 some little distance from Fitzroy Square, she re- 
 laied her pace: she began to walk more slowly: 
 she required leisure as it were to collect her j 
 thoughts and review deliberately everything that 
 ha4 taken place between herself and Hector Hard- ' 
 
 ress. Hatred was henceforth to become the sub- 
 stitute for love; and it is a sad, sad period of % 
 woman's life — a fearful turning-point in her des- 
 tiny, when she has to open her eyes to the tre- 
 mendous reality of such a position as this. The 
 letters which she had obtained at the house ia 
 Xorton Street were now almost forgotten : she 
 thought only of her blighted hopes— of the wrong 
 she had sustained— of the perfidies which had mode 
 her a victim. She even forgot for some while that 
 she was pursuing her way on foot instead of taking 
 a cab, — until at last she stopped short, ejaculating 
 within herself, " All that I now feel is a weakness 
 — whereas I ought to be strong !" 
 
 Then a change took place within her. With a 
 mighty effort she repelled as it were the softness 
 and the mournfulness of her emotions : she nerved 
 herself as though it were for a struggle — as if she 
 had undertaken some stupendous enterprise or 
 some exploit needing a marvellous display of 
 heroism. She summoned a cab, and proceeded to 
 Lincoln's Inn Fields. 
 
 On returning to the lawyer's house, Cicely Ncale 
 soon retired to her chamber, for it was now close 
 upon eleven o'clock. She sat down to examine 
 the packet of papers which she had brought with 
 her from Norton Street. And well was it for her 
 that she had obtained possession of these docu- 
 ments ; for she soon found that there were indeeii 
 letters amongst them, witten by Hector Hardress, 
 which related to herself, and which compromised 
 her even more than she could possibly have ap- 
 prebended. She perceived that the love of Hector 
 was never such as during her dream of bliss she 
 had fancied it to be — and that from the very first 
 he must have intended to betray her. She saw- 
 that in these letters he spoke of her with a levity 
 which was incompatible with a real affection — and 
 that her seduction, instead of having been the 
 result of a moment when the passion of both was 
 stronger than their discretion, was from the first a 
 deliberately intended project on his part. It would 
 be impossible to describe how the large blue eye» 
 of Cicely Neale flamed up with the most sinister 
 fires— how her whole countenance became con- 
 vulsed with the workings of her inward emotions 
 —and how between her pale lips and her gleaming 
 teeth hissed forth more than once the words, " I 
 will be avenged !" 
 
 But amidst that packet of papers there were 
 several other letters, in addition to those which, 
 when a student at the University, Hector Hard- 
 ress had written to Mrs. Chicklade. There were 
 epistles from several noblemen and gentlemen, 
 bearing different dates, and having reference to a 
 variety of intrigues, in which the services of that 
 infamous woman were required. But Cicely Neale 
 experienced not the slightest interest in the mys- 
 teries that were thus revealed to her knowledge: 
 her whole thoughts were absorbed in everything 
 that concerned herself. Nevertheless, she care- 
 fully examined each successive letter which she 
 took up ; and the very last one which came to 
 her hand— the one which lay at the bottom of 
 the pile, but which bore the most recent date — 
 suddenly excited a new feeling of interest in 
 her. 
 
 She recognised the handwriting; and she was 
 astounded. She opened the letter ; and then her 
 wonderment grew into the most stupendous eur-
 
 92 
 
 AGKEB; OK, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 prise that ever seized upon a human being. The 
 contenks of this letter were very brief; but they 
 must have been significant enough— or at least 
 they rapidly conjured up ideas and associations 
 which now absorbed Cicely's mind to such a de- 
 gree that her own wrongs as well as her thoughts 
 of vengeance were for the time forgotten. 
 
 " Heavens ! is it possible ? can it be ?" she asled 
 within herself; and with her elbow resting on the 
 table, and her hand supporting her head, she fell 
 into the profoundest meditation. 
 
 At length she slowly began to waken up as it 
 were from that depth of thought. She now sorted 
 all the letters :— those which bore no reference to 
 her own affairs, she consigned to the flames : but 
 those which had been written by Hector Hardress 
 to the deceased Mrs. Chicklade, as well as that 
 one epistle of stupendous import which had filled 
 her with so much wonderment, she carefully 
 locked up in her desk. It was long however 
 before she retired to rest : she had so much to 
 think of ;— and when she did at length seek her 
 couch, her slumber was haunted with strange, 
 wild, and fearful dreams. 
 
 Before concluding this chapter, wo will put the 
 reader in possession of some few additional facts 
 respecting Cicely Neale, Her father was the 
 brother of Mrs. Timperley : ho was an attorney, 
 and in practice at Cambridge. Being a man of ex- 
 travagant habits and inclined to dissipation, he 
 was neglectful of his business: he was therefore 
 poor ; and when his brother-in-law Mr. Timperley 
 was down in the world, he was unable to assist 
 him. Cicely was an only child. Her father died 
 when she was a gii-1 ; and the widowed Mrs. Neale 
 retired with her orphan daughter to a cottage 
 some three or four miles distant from Cambridge. 
 Mr. Neale had left his affairs in a condition so 
 closely bordering on insolvency that when his 
 debts and funeral expenses were paid, there was 
 nothing left for the widow and child. Mrs. Neale 
 had however three or four relations residing in 
 difTerent parts of the country, and who were in 
 easy circumstances. They generously contributed 
 enough for her maintenance ; and they paid for 
 Cicely's boarding-school expenses.' "When Cicely 
 was about nineteen years of age, she lost her 
 mother; and the relations just referred to, each 
 offered her a homo until something could be done 
 to place her out in the world, — one and all sug- 
 gesting that she must endeavour to earn her bread 
 as a governess, for which capacity she had been by 
 education qualified. Mrs. Timperley, however, 
 who wrote to Cicely about the same time, proffered 
 the orphan girl an asylum without any such con- 
 dition as that which was attached to the proposals 
 of her other relatives. On the contrary, Mrs. 
 Timperley with frankness stated that she should 
 like to have her niece as a companion, and even 
 hinted at the possibility of her adoption by Mr. 
 Timperley and herself, as they were childless. 
 Cicely Neale— possessing a spirit but little suited 
 for the servility and drudgery belonging to the 
 life of a governess— at once rejected the offers of 
 all the relations on her mother's side, and she 
 half made up her mind to accept the proposal 
 made her by Mrs. Timperley — though she did not 
 immediately signify this much to the lawyer's 
 wife, but merely stated that she would give a 
 final answer when her feelings should have some- 
 
 The late Mrs. Neale had been a parsimonious 
 and saving woman. Quito different from her hus- 
 band, she abhorred extravagant habits; aud her 
 economy had merged into meanness, — though per- 
 haps her conduct deserved not so harsh a term, 
 inasmuch as if she hoarded to the extent of her 
 power, it was for the sake of her daughter. Thus 
 she did not expend the full allowance made by her 
 relatives; and after her death, upwards of two 
 hundred pounds wero diecr)vered by Cicely in her 
 mother's writing-desk, ^7ith this provision the 
 orphan Miss Neale was enabled to remain at the 
 cottage until such time that she should decide 
 finally upon her half-formed resolve of acceptiug a I 
 home in Lincoln's Inn Fields. But after the lapse 
 of a few months a circumstance transpired which 
 induced Cicely to change her mind altogether upon 
 that point. Accident threw her in the way of 
 Hector, then a student at one of the Colleges 
 of the University. They met occasionally and 
 stealthily. Cicely— then an artless unsophisticated 
 girl of between nineteen and twenty, but with no 
 more experience in the world than if she had been 
 four or five years younger— soon learnt to love tlie 
 handsome and elegant Hector with the fondest do- 
 votion; and she believed that this love was reci- 
 procated in all its purity and sincerity. 
 
 For a young lady to be seen with a student of 
 the University was death to her reputation ; and 
 this much Cicely knew, — her mother having fro- 
 quently counselled her to avoid the chance of form- 
 ing any such acquaintance. Miss Neale's modesty 
 aud propriety of feeling — which supplied the place 
 of that more worldly-minded prudence which ex- 
 perience would have furnished— made her hesitate 
 to continue those stealthy meetings which were so 
 constantly exposed to the risk of observation ; and 
 she could not possibly receive Hector at her own 
 cottage. Then was it that Hector had recourse to 
 a stratagem which ho foresaw would serve a double 
 purpose : namely, that of quieting Cicely's scruples, 
 and in process of time rendering her his victim. 
 We must here state that about three miles further 
 away into the country an elderly woman was tem- 
 porarily inhabiting a little cottage. This was Mrs. 
 Chicklade, who for some reason which we need not 
 pause to describe, had been compelled to leave 
 London until a storm which threatened her should 
 have blown over. Hardress had seen her in Lon- 
 don, and had there availed himself of her services 
 in his libertine pursuits. One day, when riding 
 out into the country in the neighbourhood of Cam- 
 bridge, he recognised his old metropolitan acquaint- 
 ance Mrs. Chicklade, in front of the little cottage ; 
 and her presence suddenly suggested an idea to re- 
 lieve him from his bewilderment how to act in future 
 with regard to Cicely Neale. He soon came to an 
 understanding with Mrs. Chicklade ; and the plot 
 was put into execution. Cicely was assured by her 
 lover that there was a highly respectable person 
 residing at a suitable distance, at whose cottago 
 and beneath whose auspices they might thence- 
 forth meet. The unsuspicious Miss Neale fell 
 into the snare ; and Mrs. Chicklade's habitation 
 became the scene of her future interviovs with 
 Hardress. On every occasion when Hector pur- 
 posed to be there, he wrote to Mrs. Chicklade, who 
 forthwith found an opportunity of communicating
 
 IGNES ; OB, BEAUTY AND 
 
 with Cicely ;— and thus meeting after meeting took 
 place until the young ladj's honour was sacrificed 
 to Hector's passion. Still Cicely was full of faith 
 and confidence in her lover ; for he continuously 
 vowed in the most sacred and solemn manner that 
 he would make her his wife eo soon as circum- 
 stances should permit. After the lapse of a few 
 months the storm which hung over Mrs. Chick- 
 ladc's head in the metropolis was dispelled; and 
 she returned thither— taking with her, as we have 
 seen, the letters which Havdress had written to 
 her on various occasions, and in which he gave her 
 minute details how to deal with Cicely. Another 
 elderly woman succeeded Mrs. Chicklade in the 
 occupation of the cottage a few miles distant from 
 Cambridge; and there the meetings of Cicely and 
 Hardress were continued, until the latter left the 
 University. 
 
 On parting from Cicely, when thus about to 
 enter upon the great world. Hector Hardress re. 
 newed all hia vehement protestations of undying 
 love and unchangeable fidelity. He represented to 
 her that inasmuch as he was now of age, he was 
 his own master,— and that if he could not obtain 
 the consent of his parents to an alliance with her, 
 he would sooner prove disobedient to their autho- 
 rity than desert or deceive the being whom he 
 loved so well. And Cicely Neale put faith in all 
 he said : she bad no reason for supposing that he 
 was all the time deliberately beguiling her. Tbey 
 parted. He wrote occasionally from London, each 
 letter containing some subterfuge or pretext for 
 delaying his marriage— each letter also growing 
 colder and shorter. Vague alarms began to arise 
 in the mind of Cicely Kealc : but still she endea- 
 voured to cling with desperate tenacity unto j 
 hope: for it she were to loosen her grasp thereon, I 
 she felt that she should fall into the abysm of I 
 despair. Circumstances however occurred to i 
 strengthen her apprehensions, and to give more I 
 tangible substance to the misgivings that were j 
 forcing themselves upon her mind. Mrs. Chick- 
 lade again appeared in the neighbourhood of 
 Cambridge : certain reports relative to her true 
 character, accidentally reached Cicely's ears : she i 
 was led to make secret inquiries— and the result j 
 was to unveil to her the infamy of the occupation 
 which for many years Mi s. Chicklade had pursued, i 
 She gave money to the woman to induce her to 
 leave that neighbourhood ; and fortunately for 
 Miss Neale's reputation, the vile woman was 
 always faithful enough in keeping the secrets of i 
 those who suffered her to make demands upon j 
 their purses. Yet though her eyes were now | 
 opened to the iniquity of Mrs. Chieklade's cha- 
 racter. Cicely was still far from suspecting that her 
 seduction bad all along been a deliherate intention 
 and settled plan on the part of her lover : she 
 thought that he also might in reality have been 
 deceived in respect to the exceeding blackness of 
 that woman's character. Even when his corre- 
 spondence ceased, and weeks grew into months 
 without bringing another letter from his pen to 
 the anxious and suspenseful Cicely, she did not 
 dare permit herself to think that he had proved a 
 wilful and deliberate betrayer of her peace, her ' 
 innocence, and her happiness. Finally, as he wrote i 
 not — and as be returned not — she resolved to pro- ] 
 cecd to London, that she might ascertain what 
 were his pursuits, obtain an interview with him, [ 
 
 and endeavour to persuade or compel him to fulfil 
 the solemn pledges he had given her. Besides, 
 even apart from these views and considerations, 
 it became absolutely necessary for Miss Jlenle to 
 take some decisive step in regard to her own posi- 
 tion, inasmuch as the funds which she had found 
 in her deceased mother's desk, and on which (to- 
 gether with a gift from Mrs. Timperley) she had 
 economically subsisted for about three years, were 
 now exhausted. She arrived in the metropolis i 
 and beneath the roof of her uncle and aunt she 
 readily found a home ; but she had not been many 
 days in London, when, as the reader has seen, she 
 fell in with Mrs. Chicklade. From this woman she 
 learnt that Hector Hardress was accustomed to 
 call at Sidney Villa; and when Cicely herself pro- 
 ceeded thither she endeavoured to ascertain, when 
 in discourse with the beautiful cousins, whether 
 it were really true, as the vile woman had reported, 
 that Hardress was paying his court to one of them. 
 The result of her visit was a complete conviction 
 that the heart of neither Agnes nor Floribel had 
 been won by her own perfidious lover. 
 
 The reader may perhaps marvel how Cicely had 
 adopted so firm and bold a bearing towards Mrs. 
 Chicklade on the occasion when they met in the 
 metropolis. Miss Neale's disposition was peculiar : 
 her character possessed no ordinary degree of 
 strength when circumstances arose to deraaad the 
 exercise of that vigour. She knew that if she 
 cringed to Mrs. Chicklade — if she exhibited weak- 
 neess or timidity, she should never be enabled to 
 shake off the hateful incubus : but she had flattered 
 herself that by means of a resolute bearing, the 
 adoption of a tone of defiance, and an appearance as 
 if she cared infinitely less for the vile woman's 
 threats than she in reality did, she would overawe 
 and intimidate instead of being overawed and inti- 
 midated herself. Such indeed were her hopes, untij 
 she suddenly found them baiHed by the display of 
 inveterate malignity and the proclamation of un- 
 compromising hostility which the infamous woman 
 had made during their interview in the lane,— that 
 lane in which Mrs. Chicklade was so sooH after- 
 wards found stretched upon the grass, the victim 
 of assassination ! 
 
 But passing away from that incident— and re- 
 turning to Cicely Neale, after her visit to Norton 
 Street, and after her interview with Hector Hard- 
 ress — we must proceed to state that she no longer 
 laboured under the slightest delusion in resject to 
 the past conduct of her seducer. The lettere which 
 she had been perusing, revealed unmistakably the 
 fact that Hector's love had never been based upon 
 sincerity, but that it was from the first a gross pas. 
 sion, with a perfidious object. All his vows had 
 been wilful perjuries— all his oaths deliberate 
 blasphemies. The dark iniquity of bis proceedings 
 towards her was revealed in all its hideousness i 
 he had never intended to espouse her I Oh, it ii 
 a bitter, bitter thing when a woman has to open 
 her eyes to the conviction that she has been but 
 the mere object of a passing amour — the subject of 
 a sensualist's phantasy— the toy of a heartless 
 libertine ! And such was the bitterness that now 
 diffused its gall throughout the soul of Cicely 
 Neale.
 
 CHAPTER XVIIT. 
 
 THE IWO EKG 
 
 J:3 was about a fortnight after the incidents which 
 we have been relating, that Charles De Vere \ 
 called at a somewhat earlier hour than was his 
 wont at Sidney Villa. Indeed it was barely noon 
 when he presented himself at that picturesque 
 abode. Although it was now past the middle of 
 the month of October, yet ail the trees and plants I 
 in the garden of the villa seemed to be of a fresh- ' 
 ness and greenness not observable elsewhere : they i 
 had taken less of the autumnal lints than the i 
 trees and plants in other gardens in the same 
 neighbourhood ; while the flowers appeared to ' 
 enjoy a kindred healthiness and to flourish in their j 
 delicacy and beauty to a later period than in other | 
 spots. No doubt the skill of the gardener, and I 
 the protection of the high boundary-wall which 
 broke the violence of bleak winds, had much— if j 
 not everything— to do with the facts just men- 
 tioned : but still it seemed most appropriate that 
 the abode of beauty should thus be surrounded by 
 beauty's objects; aud a sweet pleasurable super- 
 stition might invest the shrubs and flowers of the 
 garden with a charmed existence in compliment 
 to the charms of those lovely beings whose abode 
 was thus embellished. 
 
 It was a fine warm day on which Charles De 
 Vere presented himself at an earlier hour than 
 usual at Sidney Villa ; and it struck Kachel, as 
 she conducted him into the drawing-room, Jhat 
 there was a peculiar animation on his counte- 
 nance, as if hope, joy, and pleasure were mingling 
 with suspense. Although he in reahty desired 
 onlv to see one of the young ladies, yet he in- 
 quired for both, as in courtesy and propriety 
 bound to do. The answer was precisely that 
 which he had expected : Miss Lister was not as 
 yet visible— but Miss Evelyn would join Mr. De 
 Vere immediately. 
 
 Accordingly, in a few minutes Agnes entered 
 the drawing-room ; and after the exchange of a 
 few general observations, Charles De Vere began 
 to approach the subject which had brought bim 
 thither. He had previously arranged and pre- 
 pared in his mind how he should introduce it and 
 the terms in which he should explain himself : but 
 he suddenly found that he was in the condition 
 of a schoolboy who goes up to the master's desk 
 with the conviction that he is perfect in his task, 
 but who, when about to commence, discovers that 
 it has all slipped out of his head. 
 
 " I am sure, Miss Evelyn," said Charles, " I 
 ought to apologize for intruding at such an early 
 hour in the day— but— but— I had something to 
 communicate — and I thought — that — that — at 
 least 1 dared flatter myself that joa might be 
 
 sufficiently interested * 
 
 " I do not thiiik from your manner, Mr. De 
 Vere," said Agnes, with a slight fluttering of the 
 heart as if under the inUaenoe of a presentiment 
 —but yet she spoke with a modest composure, 
 «bile the flush which swept over her beautiful 
 oountenanoe was slight and transient,—" I do not 
 think from your manner that you can have any 
 disagreeable announcement to make concerning 
 
 yourself; and I need hardly say that if it b« 
 otherwise, anything which favourably regards 
 your interests can scarcely prove indifferent to me 
 when I recollect the obligations under which I 
 remain towards you." 
 
 "A thousand thanks, Miss Evelyn, for thia 
 assurance I" exclaimed our hero. " In a word, I 
 am shortly to leave the Home Oifice — my position 
 will he considerably improved — this morning's 
 post has brought mj mother a letter, to the eff'ect 
 that I am appointed junior paid attachi to the 
 British Embassy at the Court of Naples." 
 
 " I sincerely congratulate you, Mr. De Vere," 
 answered Agnes, " upon this elevation." 
 
 " I am to leave London," continued Charles, 
 "immediately after that unfortunate girl's trial 
 shall have taken place : for, as you know, Miss 
 Evelyn, I am unhappily thrown into the position 
 of a principal witness against her." 
 
 " I know it," said Agnes, softly and mourn- 
 fully ; " and though you, Mr. De Vere, have been 
 compelled to come forward, as an honourable man, 
 to give your testimony, yet I am confident that in 
 your heart you share in the hope which I enter- 
 tain, that despite all the fearful combination of 
 circumstances against her, she may be enabled to 
 prove herself innocent." 
 
 "Oh, I can assure you, Miss Evelyn," exclaimed 
 the generous-hearted youth, " that it would leave 
 upon my mind a saddening influence for the re- 
 mainder of my life if that young innocent-looking 
 girl were indeed proved guilty of this dreadful 
 crime ! And yet I know not how she can possibly 
 be innocent ? But leaving so mournful, so dis- 
 agreeable a topic for the present, — may I be suf. 
 
 fered to approach another la a word. Miss 
 
 Evelyn, the improvement that has taken place in 
 my prospects — the career that is opened for me — 
 the opportunity which I now have of raising my- 
 self to wealth, to honour, and distinction— all these 
 circumstances embolden me to make at once that 
 revelation which, if I had continued but a com- 
 paratively humble clerk in a Government Oflioe, 
 might have been long deferred." 
 
 Again did Agnes experience a certain fluttering 
 at the heart : again did a slight and transient flush 
 pass over her lovely countenance ; for with all her 
 innocence, her ingenuousness, and her artlessness, 
 it was impossible that she could escape the influ- 
 ence of that presentiment which told her upon 
 what subject our hero was about to speak. 
 
 " The other day, Miss Evelyn," he continued, 
 " after that incident to which I need not more 
 particularly refer, I should have been bold enough 
 to throw myself at your feet and oifer you the 
 homage of a heart which truly, faithfully, and de- 
 votedly loves you : but I feared that it might seem 
 as if I were presuming on what had then taken 
 place— and therefore I remained silent. But 
 
 " Mr. De Vere," interrupted Agnes, in a low 
 tremulous voice, while her heart was fluttering 
 more and more, and the colour went and came in 
 rapid transitions upon her countenance, " I will 
 not for a moment be guilty of such affectation or 
 duplicity as to hint that I feel otherwise than 
 honoured — flattered " 
 
 " Oh! tell me, Agnes, that I may hope— tell me 
 that I am not altogether an object of indifference 
 to you !" — and Charles De Vere threw himself at
 
 AGNES; OE, BEAniT AND PLEASUBB. 
 
 96 
 
 her feet, taking ber hand, but not daring to press 
 it to his Ups. 
 
 "No, Mr. De Vere," she tremulouslj mur- 
 mured: "you are not an object of indifference to 
 me. Eise, I beseech you!" 
 
 " Oh, your words enable me to indulge in every 
 hope!" cried our enthusiastic hero: and the tell- 
 tale blusU that was upon the cheeks of Agnea em- 
 boldened him to carry her band to his lips. 
 
 That hand was not instantaneously withdrawn ; 
 and his heart bounded with joyous hope— for he 
 felt that his love was reciprocated. He rose from 
 his suppliant poeturo— he placed himself by the 
 side of Agnes— and there was a paradise of rap- 
 turous feelings in his soul. 
 
 " But tell me," she said,—" tell me, have you 
 spoken to your mother upon this subject ?" 
 
 " I have, Agnes," he answered, with a noble 
 frankness in the expression of his countenance. 
 " When my mother had ere now communicated 
 the contents of the letter which announced my 
 appointment, I candidly revealed to her the state 
 of my feelings in reference to yourself. The result 
 was her free permission that I should call and 
 make the same avowal to you." 
 
 " And yet she does not know me," murmured 
 Agnes: " we have never met." 
 
 " Oh ! but my mother has heard sufficient of 
 you," exclaimed Charles, " to feel proud at the 
 idea of possessing such a daughter.in-law. She 
 only stipulated that our engagement — if I were 
 happy and fortunate enough to find my fond hopes 
 realized— should continue for a period until my 
 position should be better assured. And, Ob, 
 Agnes ! now that I am relieved from all suspense, 
 I can endure to look Epoo the prospect of separa- 
 tion with but little bitterness ; for 1 shall know 
 that your image mill prove the incentive to urge 
 
 The lovers continued to discourse for some time 
 longer; and when Charles took his departure, it 
 was with joy and rapture in his heart— for he 
 knew that he had not vainly nor hopelessly loved 
 the beauteous Agnes Evelyn. 
 
 When our heroine herself had composed her 
 own feelings somewhat, and collected her thoughts, 
 she at once repaired to Fluribel, — to whom in the 
 genuine frankness of her nature she communi- 
 cated what had occurred. 
 
 " I Congratulate you, my dear cousin," replied 
 Miss Lis;er, embracing Agnes : " for Charles De 
 Tere has evidently a brilliant career before him. 
 He may some day become an Ambassador— he is 
 sure to be created a Baronet— and perhaps he may 
 rise to a Peerage." 
 
 " Of all these things, Floribel, I thought not at 
 the time," answered A^-nes : " I thought only of 
 his good qualities— the noble frankness of his 
 character— big generous disposition- his devoted 
 attachment to his mother, of which we have 
 
 " And now, my dear Agnes," said Floribel, with 
 a blush upon her cheeks, " I will tell you a little 
 secret of my own. I too have had an offer !" 
 
 " Indeed, my dear cousin !" exclaimed Miss 
 Evelyn, ia astonishment, " It could not have been 
 
 to-day and yet you have not given me your 
 
 confidence " 
 
 " It was yesterday, Agnes," interrupted Floribel, 
 qnickly recovering from the temporary confusion 
 
 into which she was thrown. " Somehow or another 
 
 I did not like to mention it to you or at least 
 
 I meant to avail myself of the first fitting oppor- 
 tunity " 
 
 " But not for a moment can I think, my dear 
 Floribel," said Agnes, " that you had any more 
 
 powerful reason 1 mean that you cannot be 
 
 ashamed " 
 
 "Ashamed?— no !" ejaculated Miss Lister, with 
 a momentary flush of mingled indignation and 
 confusion upon her countenance. " Theodore Clif- 
 ford is no stranger to you " 
 
 " The Hon. Mr. CliSurd ?" eiclaimed Agnes, ia 
 stilt greater astonishment than before. 
 
 " Yes," proceeded Floribel, now speaking firmly, 
 and even peremptorily, as if feeling the necessity 
 of asserting her right to act as she thought fit in her 
 own supposed interests, rather than argue the point 
 at length : " Theodore Clifford yesterday offered 
 me his hand, as he vows that I have long possessed 
 his heart. And pormit me to add, Agnes, that I 
 think the son of Lord Windermere is as good a 
 match for me as the young attache can possibly 
 prove for you." 
 
 Agnes could not help fancying that there was a 
 certain want of feminine delicacy in the pointed, 
 worldly-minded manner in which her cousin put 
 the subject ; and after a few moments' reflection, 
 she asked ia a gentle voice, " And do you, my 
 sweet Floribel, really love Mr. ClifTurd ?" 
 
 "Oh! I am convinced that I love him !" re- 
 sponded Miss Lister ; " for is he not exceedingly 
 handsome ? is not his profile purely Grecian t is 
 not his countenance intelligent? are not his man- 
 ners fascinating ?" 
 
 "But his father?" suggested Agnes: "has he 
 assented to this alliance ?" 
 
 Floribel hesitated, looked confused for a few 
 moments, and then said, " Of course it is hardly 
 to be expected that Lord Windermere would 
 blindly give such an assent. His lordship does 
 not know me, and has never seen me : but Theo- 
 dore assures me that when once we are united, it 
 win be sufficient for him to present me to his 
 father in order that I shall be received with open 
 arms." 
 
 " You do not mean me to understand, my dear 
 cousin," said Agnes, with affrighted looks, " that 
 the marriage is to be a clandestine one? No! — 
 you would have never listened to Mr. Clifford if 
 he had ventured to breathe such a proposition to 
 
 " How strangely you are talking, Agnes !" ex- 
 clnimed Miss Lister, now adopting an offended air, 
 " It is very natural that Mr. Clifford, seeing how 
 I am courted by several young gentlemen of rank 
 and position, should wish to secure me with the 
 least possible delay. It is natural likewise that I 
 should accept the offer of a patrician's hand " 
 
 "I'ou know that Mr. Clifford," interrupted 
 Agnes, "is the youngest eon of Lord Windermere, 
 and that he is entirely dependent on his father's 
 purse ? Ho has no profession " 
 
 "But he is going into the House of Commons 
 ;it the next election," rejoined Floribel ; " and I 
 shall feel both proud and flattered to be introduced 
 to the world as the wife of the Hon. Mr. Clifford, 
 .\I.P. Besides, although it may sound like vanity, 
 yet to you, my dear cousin, I may confess thtt I 
 have a suQlciently good opinion of myself as to
 
 oc 
 
 AGNEa; OB, BBAL'TY AKD PLEASDEE. 
 
 feci confident that Lord Windermere will not con- | 
 6ider that he is disgraced in his daughter-in-law. 
 In a word, A^nes, the bridal will soon take place — 
 quite privately, you know— but you can act as the | 
 
 bridemaid " 
 
 " Good heavens, Roribel !" exclaimed Miss Eve- 
 lyn, with renewed consternation, affright, and 
 grief; *''is it possible that you have gone to such 
 lengths with Mr. Clifford ?" 
 
 " This is unkind !" said Floribel, now having 
 recourse to weeping. " I did not a few minutes 
 back remonstrate with you — I congratulated 
 
 you " 
 
 "Your own heart told you, Floribel," said 
 Agnes, gently yet firmly, *' that there was nothing 
 precipitate, indiscreet, or imprudent in my con- 
 duct—no intended violation of the obedience due 
 to a parent — nothing secret nor clandestine. Oh, 
 my dear cousin! it grieves me profoundly — it 
 pains me poignantly, to be compelled to address 
 you in such terms!— but never, never can I con. 
 sent to assist in any way in a proceeding which 
 inspires no confidence, and which I fear is not cal- 
 culated to insure your happiness !" 
 
 " Then we will say nothing more upon the sub- 
 ject, Agnes," exclaimed Floribel, now really in- 
 dignant without the slightest affectation of anger. 
 '• It is loo bad that you should take me thus to 
 task, as if you were older than I — whereas if age 
 gave any rights, they would belong to me, for I am 
 a few weeks older than you." 
 
 Agnes endeavoured to pacify Floribel— to reason 
 with her calmly and gently — to make her compre- 
 hend that she was precipitately taking a step on 
 which depended the rem-iinder of her life's happi- 
 ness : but Floribel shut herself up in a sort of 
 sullen reserve. Perhaps iu her own heart she re- 
 cognised all the truthfulness of her cousin's observa- 
 tions — all the justice of her remosstrances: but she 
 was infatuated and self-willed— she was bent upon 
 pursuing a particular course — her vanity was ilat- 
 tered— her ambition received the promise of being 
 gratified — and she would not retract. At length 
 Agnes felt the necessity of speaking so iirmly that 
 ] Floribel began to fear lest her cousin should actu- 
 I ally take steps to break off the intended marriage 
 I —such as fur instance by communicating with 
 Lord Windermere. She grew frightened : she 
 I threw off her sullenness and reserve ; she em- 
 i braced Agnes, and promised to rellect awhile ere 
 I she committed herself by any further pledges or 
 i promises to Theodore Clifford. 
 
 Miss Evelyn— being herself all guileless and 
 artlessness— could not for a moment imagine that 
 1 her cousin was deceiving her : she was therefore 
 ' rejoiced at the intention which Floribel now pro- 
 i claimed ; and fervidly returning her embrace, she 
 I murmured, with tears upon her cheeks, " I felt 
 
 sure you would not act rashly upon the point." 
 1 Miss Lister answered in a manner that was 
 akin to the duplicity of the tactics she was now 
 I adopting; and Agnes was completely deceived. 
 I The • ell.principled young lady's mind felt as if 
 I a considerable weight had been lifted off it ; and 
 temporarily leaving Floribel, she repaired to Bel- 
 mont Cottage, to form the acquaintance of Mrs. 
 De Vere, according to aa arrangement which she 
 bad made with Charles. 
 
 We will here interrupt the thread of our narra- 
 tive for a few moments in order to explain how 
 
 Mrs. De Vere had been induced to give her con- 
 sent to an engagement between her son and Miss 
 Evelyn. For certain reasons of her own, she bad 
 hitherto abstained from forming any acquaint- 
 ances in the neighbourhood : indeed it had been 
 altogether against her own wish that she ever 
 came to reside in the vicinage of London at all. 
 But in this she yielded to superior influences ; 
 and when Charles revealed to her his love for Miss 
 Evelyn, she felt that it would be useless as well as 
 "se — whatever her own private feelings might 
 be — to attempt to thwart a passion against which 
 she could openly advance no argument. She pur- 
 posed to accompany her son to Italy ; and she 
 therefore saw that if she were now to form Miss 
 Evelyn's acquaintance, it would not necessarily 
 lead her any further into a circle of society in her 
 own neighbourhood. Besides, the plea of ill- 
 health could not he advanced against the recep- 
 tion of one for whom her son had conceived so 
 strong an attachment; and thus her assent to re- 
 Miss Evelyn was but a natural consequence 
 to that other assent which she could not possibly 
 refuse— namely, that Charles might ' declare his 
 love to Agnes. 
 
 Miss Evelyn paid the visit to Belmont Cottage, 
 where she remained for upwards of an hour in 
 conversation with Mrs. De Yere, of whom she 
 formed a very favourable opinion. And euch, it 
 would seem, was the impression that she made 
 upon the mind of that lady herself; for Mrs. De 
 Vere frequently contemplated Agnes with an air 
 of deep, mournful, and tender interest during this 
 
 Not long after Agnes left home to call on 
 Mrs. De Vere, the Hon. Mr. Clifford arrived 
 at the Villa. Ho was quickly joined by Floribel 
 in the drawing-room. We have already spoken 
 of him as a handsome, dark-haired young gen- 
 tleman, of about three-and-twenty, with luxu- 
 riant whiskers and a Grecian profile. His coun- 
 tenance was intelligent ; his manners were pecu- 
 liarly fascinating ; his figure was good ; and he 
 dressed with very excellent taste. In respect to 
 his disposition and character, the render will 
 glean the fullest details during the progress of 
 our story. 
 
 Th.5 moment Floribel made her appearance in 
 the drawing-room, to which Mr. Clifford had been 
 shown, he hastened forward, took her hand, ana 
 pressed it to his lips. They sat down together ; 
 and as he still retained that fair hand in his own, 
 he said, " Have you yet spoken, dearest Floribel, 
 to your cousin !" 
 
 " I have," answeued the young lady, the colour 
 rlsi-ng to her cheeks ; " and I am afraid that she 
 will never give her consent " 
 
 " You speak, my beloved Floribel," interrupted 
 Theodore, "as if you were alluding to an elder 
 sister or to some other relative having a right to 
 dictate and coerce." 
 
 " When I used the word consent, Theodore," 
 rejoined Miss Lister, " I intended to convey the 
 
 idea that But no matter ! In short, Agnes 
 
 believes that I am taking time to reflect and to 
 consider." 
 
 " And do you, my sweet Floribel," asked Clif- 
 ford, with a somewhat reproachful look, yet oae 
 that was full of tenderness, " require time for 
 euch reflection and for such consideration i Do
 
 \ i 
 
 yon not plaoe implicit reiianc* upon me ?— hare 
 jou not erery faith in my lore— my honour— my 
 iincerity P" 
 
 " Yes, dear Theodore— yes ! every faith !" an- 
 swered the young lady. " Oh, I am sure that you 
 love me !— and you know that I love you in return ! 
 Tell me that you love me, Theodore ?" 
 
 ■ Devotedly !"— and Theodore Clifford, winding 
 
 arms round the beautiful Floribel's waist, 
 
 • -rii her to his breast, covering her lips and 
 
 >3 with kisses so impassioned— so fervid, that. 
 
 Aud you will consent, dearest Floribel," he 
 ■ , in a tone of tender entreaty, " to become 
 mine— mine without delay ? Oh ! as years shall 1 
 esteem the minutes which are yet to elapse ere you 
 <«n become indissolubly mine! But why should 
 our happiness be delayed ? If your cousin Hiss 
 Evelyn, with an extreme of cautiousnesa that 
 No. 13.— Agnes. 
 
 almost amounts to the injuriousness of suspicion, 
 should bid you reflect and deliberate, rest assured 
 that she will never view with pleasure the alliance 
 that your own heart prompts you to form ! If 
 therefore our union must for 'every reason take 
 place stealthily and privately, may it not as well 
 be solemnized to-morrow as a week, or a month, or 
 a year hence ? Ob, dearest Floribel ! consent to 
 make me happy with the least possible delay— and 
 all the most devoted love which man can show for , 
 woman shall be testi6ed by me towards you !" ' 
 
 In this manner did Theodore Clifford continue 
 to plead ; and Floribel yielded to his supplication. 
 She consented to elope with him, if he could so 
 arrange all the details of the proceeding that 
 Agaes should not suspect her design until it was 
 
 t late for her to take 
 
 any measure to prevent i 
 
 With flushing cheeks, with eyes swimming in min- 
 gled tenderness and confusion, and with°palpitat- 
 iog bosom, did Floribel thus in tremulous whispers
 
 PLEiiUBK. 
 
 signify to Theodore Clifford that she yielded to his 
 eapplications. A lover is alwajs ready-witted in 
 triumphing over difficulties ; and perhaps Theo- 
 dore had been revolving certain plans in his mind 
 before he called at the villa on the present occa- 
 sion : perhaps he had foreseen that Agnes would 
 raise obstacles ;— perhaps likewise he did not alto- 
 gether regret that she had done so, inasmuch as 
 from that circumstance ho was enabled to propose 
 to Floribel a stealthy and secret departure. He 
 assured her that every arrangement should be con- 
 ducted with the utmost circumspection— that he 
 would lose no time in procuring a special license — 
 that they would journey to some secluded village 
 where the marriage could be solemnized— and that 
 immediately on their return to London, he would 
 lead her into his father's presence, they would 
 throw themselves upon their knees before Lord 
 ■Windermere, and his lordship's forgiveness of his 
 son would be accompanied by the acknowledgment 
 of his daughter-in-law. 
 
 Floribel listened to all these assurances, which 
 more than ever convinced her of the honourable 
 character and devoted love of her admirer: but 
 still there was one diinculty to get over- How 
 could she leave the villa unperceived by Agnes ? 
 They deliberated for some little time ; and at 
 length a plan was arranged. Theodore Clifford 
 then again embraced Floribel fervently : and he 
 took his departure to carry out the arrangements 
 which had been settled between them. 
 
 At a distance of about half a mile fitom Sidney 
 Villa, and in the neighbourhood of Kentish Town, 
 resided a widow-lady named Sheridan, who was 
 accustomed to visit at Mr. acd ilrs. Tiroperley's. 
 There Agnes and Floribel had formed her ac- 
 quaintance: she occasionally called at the viJa ; 
 but inasmuch as she was frivolous in her conversa- 
 tion, affected in her manners, and prone to gossip- 
 ing, she was no favourite with Miss Evelyn. 
 Floribel however had rathei token a fancy to her, 
 — considering her to be an ;igreeablo and enter- 
 taining person. It happened that on the very day 
 of which we are writing, Jlrs. Sheridan had sent • 
 note, inviting Miss Lister and Miss Evelyn to take 
 tea with her in the evening : but Agnes had sig- 
 nified her intention to decline the invitation, while 
 something hod prevented Floribel from expressing 
 at the moment any decision upon the point. She 
 cow resolved to accept that invitation ; and the in- 
 stant Theodore had taken bis departure she sent a 
 note to this effect to Mrs. Sheridan. 
 
 When Agnes returned from her visit to Mrs. 
 De Vere, Floribel informed her that the Hon. 
 Mr. Clifford had called,— adding, " But I can 
 assure yffu, my dear cousin, that I was not un- 
 mindful of the promise I had previously given to 
 
 Miss Evelyn expressed her delight at what she 
 considered to be Floribel's prudence and good 
 sense ; and not for an instant did she suspect that 
 she was being deceived by her cousin. She slated 
 how she had passed a very agreeable hour with 
 Mrs. De Tere, whom she represented as an 
 amiable, mild, lady-like person ;— and after some 
 little conversation in this strain, Agnes betook her- 
 self to her embroidery. 
 
 "Oh, I forgot to mention," said Floribel, while 
 half-rcclining^on a sofa, with a novel in her hand, 
 " that I wrote jnst now to Mrs. Sheridiin, to the 
 
 effect that I would pass an hour or two with her 
 in the evening, and making some suitable excuse 
 for your inability to accept the invitation." 
 
 " If I had thought that you really desired to 
 accept it, Floribel," answered Agnes, " I would 
 have gone with you. But now it would seem 
 capricious on my part " 
 
 " Oh ! I have no particular wish," exclaimed 
 Miss Lister: "only I fear that it would seem 
 strange, as Mrs. Sheridan has on two or three 
 occasions invited us— and we have always refused 
 hitherto." 
 
 " Gro then, my dear cousin," said the unsus- 
 picious Agnes : and she thought to herself that a 
 little recreation would have a beneficial effect for 
 Floribel after what had pasefld in refeienee to 
 Theodore Clifford. 
 
 It was shortly after eight o'clock in the eren- 
 ing that Floribel entered a fly, or hackney-vehicle. 
 which had been engaged to take her to Mrs. 
 Sheridan's. She felt a tightening at the heart as 
 she look leave of Agnes ; and she could aoarcely 
 prevent herself from embracing her beautiful 
 cousin with a degree of fervour which might have 
 raised a suspicion that the leave-taking was felt to 
 be one which would prove of longer durstioQ than 
 a mere two or three hours. But Floribel thought 
 to herself that she had gone too far to retreat ; 
 and having therefore to play a particultft part, she 
 succeeded in veiling whatsoever emotions she felt 
 on the occasion. She went:— and the unsuspect- 
 ing Agnes remained alone in the drawing-room at 
 Sidney Villa. 
 
 As the vehicle was rolling along, Floribel felt 
 that the tears were trickling down her cheeks. 
 She hastily wiped them away, and strove to per- 
 suade herself that she was fcolisb to yield to this 
 weakness— that she was only consulting her own 
 happiness in the step which she was taking — and 
 that when once, as the honoured bride of Theedore 
 Clifford, she should be received by Lord TVinder- 
 mare, she would have every reason to rejoice at 
 the courage, firmness, and decision which she was 
 manifesting now. As for the duplicity of which 
 she was guilty towards jVgnes, she felt assured 
 that her amiable cousin would cheerfully pardon 
 her, and on her return to London would speed to 
 welcome her as the bride of Theodore Clifford. 
 Still she could not help feeling a sensatoi of 
 grief, which for a moment had bordered on 
 anguish, at thus voluntarily separating herselt 
 from that cousin with whom she had been 
 brought up since her earliest infancy, from whom 
 she had never before been parted, and whom she 
 really loved with a sisterly fondness. Therefore, 
 under all these cuoQicting inflaences, it was with 
 some difficulty that Floribel could cempose hor 
 feelings and smooth her countenance by the time 
 she reached Mrs. Sheridan's house in I' 
 of Kentish Town. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 TEE ELOFEMBXT. 
 
 B was only a very smrvll party which Mrs. 
 Sheridan gave on this occasion, — just, as she ex- 
 pressed it, a few of her neighbours dropping in to
 
 K, BBAITTT AND PLBA3tTEK. 
 
 99 
 
 :;l'<; her quite in a friendly way, without formality 
 or ceremony. Slie was a woll-meaning woman 
 enough: her wealinesses did not amount to vices; 
 and she would not for a moment have become an 
 aceomplice in the meditated elopement. Her in- 
 vitation had therefore been made a convenience of, 
 as the reader has seen, to forward the plans settled 
 between Floribel Lister and Theodore Clifford. 
 
 There were about a dozen guests at Mrs. 
 Sheridan's house : four old people sat down to 
 whist : the more juvenile portion of the company 
 recreated themselves with music. Floribel seemed 
 more than usually gay : her spirits were partially 
 forced, and partially borne up with the bright 
 hopes in which she was cradling herself. When- 
 ever for a moment a sensation of remorse on ac- 
 count of her duplicity to Agnes, or of regretful 
 omotiun at Ka7iag separated herself from that 
 much-loved CQUsin, crept into Fioribel's heart, she 
 toot refuge in merry-soundinj laughter ; she flew 
 to the piano to play a cheerful air ; or she started 
 soroo gay and joyous topic of discourse. Every 
 one present thought that Miss Lister had never 
 before proved herself so amiable, and had never 
 seemed in better spirits. I 
 
 There was an or-mota timepiece upon the mantel 
 in Mrs. Siieridan's drawing room ; and as the 
 hands drew nearer and nearer towards the indica- 
 tion of the hour of eleven, Fioribel's heart flut- 
 tered more and more— she had all the greater dif- 
 ticuky in concealing her real agitation beneath a 
 semblance of outward natural gaiety. The time- 
 piece struck the hour;— and then Floribel, watch- 
 ing an opportunity when the whist players were 
 deep in their game, and the rest of the company 
 were gathered about a young lady at the piano — 
 glided unperceived from the room. The domestics 
 were employed in laying the supper-table :— of 
 this Floribel assured herself — she caught up her 
 veil and scarf in the breakfast-parlour, where she 
 had left those articles — and unperceived by a soul, J 
 she passed out into the garden at the back of the 
 house. This she threaded ; and in a few moments 
 reached a gate opening into a lane, where a post- 
 chaise was waiting, and where Theodore Clifford 
 was in readiness to receive her. At that instant 
 a severe pang shot through the heart of Floribel : 
 it was almost a sense of consternation which seized 
 upon her brain ; and if the hand of any guardian 
 genius had been stretched forth to hold her back, 
 she would have yielded to the friendly interven- 
 tion. And if, too, there had been a saving voice 
 to whisper a single syllable of warning in her ear, 
 she would not have remained deaf to it. It re- 
 quired at that moment but the weight of a straw 
 thrown into the balance, to induce that young 
 girl— hitherto rash, self-willed, and willfully self- 
 blioding also — to retract all that she had been re- 
 solved to accomplish ! 
 
 But no guardian hand was there — no saving 
 voice mingled with the breeze which was whisper- 
 ing along the lane and ruffling the autumn-tinted 
 foliage of the trees. One last look did Floribel 
 fliogbehinil towards the house which she had thus 
 60 stealthily quitted, — a look in which there was 
 a momentary expression of anguished entreaty, as 
 if imploring that some one would even yet come 
 forth thenae to save her. But the next moment 
 she waa inside the chaise, clasped in the arms of 
 her handsome lover; and then in the rapturous 
 
 feelings which took possession of her soul, all re- 
 morse and all regret were forgotten ! 
 
 Kapid and varied however were t!ie transitions of 
 feeling which Floribel was doomed to experience ; 
 —and this indeed is ever the case with those who 
 are taking a step that hovers in doubt betwixt the 
 approval or disapproval of their own consciences. 
 A moment before, while she stood upon the steps 
 leading down from that garden-gate, she would 
 have consented to be saved if any one had been 
 there to save her : — another mnment, and she ex- 
 perienced feelings of soft ecstatic rapture when 
 clasped in the arms of her lover :— then, yet an- 
 other moment, and a strong revulsion of feeling 
 took place within her. Her soul received a sud- 
 den shock as the thought flashed to her mind that 
 she was alone in that chaise with Theodore Clif- 
 ford. 
 
 " Where is the maid whom you promised to 
 have in attendance for me ?" she softly and tremu- 
 lously inquired, with scarcely courage to put a 
 question which might seem to imply distrust of 
 her lover— and yet on the other hand impelled by 
 delicacy of feeling to put it. 
 
 " You know not, dearest Floribel," answered 
 Theodore, " how distressed I am at this disappoint- 
 ment. But believe me, it is not my fault ! An 
 elderly lady-friend of mine faithfully promised to 
 supply the requirement : but at the last moment 
 the girl whom I expected made not her appear- 
 ance. I was bewildered how to act But 
 
 heavens, Floribel ! you are weeping I" 
 
 And so it was. Again had the sense of her im- 
 prudent conduct returned to Fioribel's mind : the 
 tears were trickling down her cheeks— they were 
 glistening in the light which was shed by moon ( 
 and stars into the vehicle. 
 
 " Oh, Theodore !" she murmured, her voice 
 broken by sobs ; " what must you think of mo 
 that I consent thus to travel with you— alone ?" 
 
 " If you had refused, Floribel," he at once an- 
 swered, with some little degree of vehemence, " I 
 should have fancied that you had no trust nor con- 
 fidence in me; and I should have considered there- 
 fore that for some reason I was held unworthy to 
 become your husband." 
 
 " Oh, I indeed feel that there ought to be every 
 confidence between us !" exclaimed Floribel, wiping 
 away her tears— for an instant smiling softly and 
 tenderly upon her lover — and then casting down 
 her looks beneath the luminous earnestness of his 
 
 He passed his arm round her waist — drew her 
 towards him— and covered her cheeks with kisses, 
 until those cheeks glowed with burning blushes, 
 and she felt that there was a fervour of passion in 
 his embraces which made her tremble and shrink 
 away from them. For be it remembered that 
 Floribel was strictly chaste in her virgin thoughts: 
 no gross ideas had ever entered her imagination ; 
 and though naturally of a warm temperament, yet 
 the unimpaired purity of her soul would have been 
 proof against the wiles of deliberate seduction, 
 while it would also have shielded her from any 
 attempt to surprise her virtue in a moment of 
 seeming weakness. Giddy and thoughtless sho 
 was — self-willed and rash, as the reader has seen — 
 too much prone to regard superficial or ephemeral 
 circumstances as the elements of happiness- too 
 confi/^ing in her disposition — too indolent to reason
 
 MW 
 
 AQNEa; OS, BEAUTT AMD rLEASDBlI. 
 
 deliberatelj when it was for her good, and yet on 
 the other hand too ready to conjure up a thousand 
 arguments in support of any project whereon she 
 had set her mind. Thus, though her character 
 was without strong moral stamina, she was purely 
 Tirtuous : her innate sense of modesty was not 
 marred by the element of levity that was in her 
 disposition; — and so she trembled and vague fears 
 sprang up in her mind, as she felt that there was 
 something more fervid, more passionate in the 
 kisses which Theodore imprinted upon her cheeks 
 than was completely consistent with the chastity 
 and purity of love. 
 
 Cliil'urd saw that he bad shocked and frightened 
 bis beauteous companion ; and he hastened to 
 efface the impression which his passionate fervour 
 had thus made upon her mind. He spoke to her 
 in the softest and tendcrest manner : in Ihe most 
 delicate terms did he assure her of his affection : 
 he expatiated on the happiness they would enjoy 
 when united beyond the power of any human law 
 to separate them ; and thus in a few minutes 
 
 ' rioribel was completely reassured: — she was like- 
 wise completely happy. It was sweet for her to 
 listen to this tender language : she had sufEoient 
 
 ' vanity to be flattered by the compliments, which, 
 
 ■ delicately and without fulsomeness, Clifford inter- 
 
 ■ wove with his protestations of imperishable affec- 
 j tion and with his expatiations upon their prospects 
 
 of happiness. Again were all remorse and regret 
 forgotten : Agnes was only remembered as one 
 who in a few days would be happy to welcome her 
 cousin as the bride of Theodore Clifford; and when 
 he again kissed her cheek, she felt neither shocked 
 nor frightened— she trembled not, neither did she 
 immediately withdraw from his embrace — because 
 now there was no passionate fervour in those 
 kisses : they seemed to be but the chaste testi- 
 monials of a pure, manly, and honourable love. 
 
 The post-chaise proceeded at a rapid rate ; the 
 6rst stage was soon accomplished — the horses were 
 changed— and away sped the equipage again. It 
 was a little past one o'clock in the morning when 
 the second stage was accomplished, and a small 
 
 ■ town was reached. The night was frosty; and at 
 I this hour the chill set in with bitterness. Clifford 
 t gently suggested that it would be well if his be- 
 I loved were to take a few hours' rest at the place 
 j which they had thus reached,— adding that they 
 ' could pursue their way at eight o'clock towards 
 j the village where he proposed that the ceremony 
 
 should be solemnized, and where he promised that 
 I they should arrive, before mid-day. Florihel, now 
 all confidence, expressed her willingness to leave 
 every arrangement to her lover; and moreover 
 she felt the bitterness of the chill— for she was but 
 lightly clad, and though bis cloak was wrapped 
 around her, she had no warm furs to protect 
 her. 
 
 A halt was accordingly resolved upon at the inn 
 where the post-chaise now drew up. All the in. 
 mates had retired to rest : but a chambermaid 
 was speedily summoned from her room ; and she 
 signified her readiness to attend to the require- 
 ments of the travellers. Clifford intimated that 
 they needed two rooms ; and he asked whether it 
 were possible to have any warm negus supplied at 
 that hour ?— observing that both himself and his 
 eompaaion were well-nigh perished with the cold. 
 The chambermaid conducted them into a parlour. 
 
 where there happened to be a remnant of lire in 
 the grate ; and she promised that all their wantf 
 should be quickly attended to. In a few minute« 
 she returned, bearing a tray containing wine in a 
 decanter, hot water, sugar, and all that was requi- 
 site for making the negus that had been ordered. 
 Clifford displayed the most delicate attentions 
 towards Florihel,— conducting himself, alike in 
 speech and in looks, in a manner calculated to 
 maintain all the confidence with which he bad 
 succeeded in inspiring her;— and that confidance 
 was complete. 
 
 " Tou must have suffered much from the cold 
 niglit air, my sweetest Florihel," he said ; " for 
 I myself felt its bitterness. It must be many 
 hours since you partook of any refreshment— and 
 this negus will warm you." 
 
 ■While thus speaking, Clifford was standing at 
 the table mixing the beverage ; while Florihel sat 
 cowering over the remnant of fire in the grate. 
 She did indeed feel bitterly cold ; and she could 
 scarcely keep her teeth from chattering. Clifford 
 approached her with the steaming glass in his 
 hand, and he delicately pressed her to partake of 
 its contents. She did so— but drinking merely a 
 portion of the negus ; for she was naturally most 
 abstemious in respect to any except the weakest 
 beverages. The chambermaid soon returned to 
 intimate that the rooms were now prepared for 
 the reception of the travellers : Theodore re- 
 spectfully wished Florihel good night, — simply 
 pressing her hand, and not offering to embrace 
 her in the presence of the domestic. 
 
 The young lady followed the chambermaid to 
 the room prepared for her reception. The do- 
 mestic had considerately lighted the fire, which 
 was now blazing and sparkling in a manner to 
 diffuse an air of cheerfulness about the room. 
 The maid retired; and Florihel used all possible 
 despatch in disapparelling herself ; for she felt 
 drowsy— which she attributed to the numbing 
 influence of the cold. She sought the couch ; 
 and not many moments had her head rested upon 
 the pillow, when she sank into a profound slum- 
 ber. 
 
 We must now return to Sidney Villa. The 
 beautiful Agnes occupied herself with her em- 
 broidery and her books after Florihel had taken 
 her departure to proceed to Mrs. Sheridan's house ; 
 and thus engaged, our interesting young heroine 
 whiled away the time until past eleven o'clock. 
 She then began to think that the party at Sirs. 
 Sheridan's must be a more agreeable one than 
 Florihel had expected to find it— or else her 
 cousin would assuredly not have remained so late. 
 Time passed : it was now midnight ; and still no 
 Floribel! Agnes thought of retiring to rest: but 
 she lingered in the drawing-room, saying to her- 
 self, " She cannot be many minutes now." 
 
 Another hour elapsed: it was one in the morning 
 —and still Floribel came not. The pure-minded 
 Agnes was very far from entertaining the slightest 
 suspicion of the real truth : her former idea that 
 her cousin had found the party an agreeable one, 
 was confirmed by her continued absence ; and 
 Agnes said to herself, " The supper is perhaps 
 late ; and as Floribel is a general favourite in 
 society, Mrs. Sheridan and the guests will not 
 suffer her to depart. But she csnnotpossibly bo 
 long now I"
 
 AaSES; OE, BEAUTY AND PLEASCEE. 
 
 101 
 
 Having sat up till this hour, Agnes thought 
 that she might just as well remaia until her 
 cousin's return : but as the hands of the time-piece 
 on the mantel drew nearer and nearer towards 
 the announcement of two o'clock, our young 
 heroine began to grow uneasy. Ilachel, who was 
 also sitting up, entered the drawing-room on some 
 pretext, but in reality to ascertain if Miss Evelyn 
 were prepared for this protracted absence on her 
 cousin's part. Agnes however merely intimated 
 her belief that Miss Lister could not be many 
 minutes longer ere she returned ; and Eaohel with- 
 
 Still time passed on without the appearance of 
 Floribel ; and now, as it was nearly three o'clock in 
 the morning, the uneasiness of Agnes was en- 
 hanced into positive alarm. She summoned 
 Eachel, and expressed her wonder that her cousin 
 had not returned, — adding, *' Miss Lister led me 
 to believe that she should be home early. I am 
 really afraid something must have happened- 
 though I can scarcely conceive how this could b 
 the case and no message from Mrs. Sheridan to 
 that effect." 
 
 Eachel at once volunteered to proceed to Mrs. 
 Sheridan's residence, which was only about half a 
 mile distant from Sidney Villa ; and Agnes thank- 
 fully accepted the offer. Away went Eachel ; and 
 during tbo twenty minutes that her absence lasted, 
 Agnes endeavoured to reason with herself against 
 the vague fears that were creeping over her — but she 
 could not subdue her uneasiness. Eachel returned 
 with consternation and dismay upon her counte- 
 nance. The party at Mrs. Sheridan's had broken 
 up at one o'clock : but Miss Lister had suddenly 
 disappeared at eleven. Mrs. Sheridan and her 
 guests were alike astonished and hurt at that 
 abrupt departure, which was all the more unac- 
 countable inasmuch as Miss Lister had not availed 
 herself of the hackney- vehicle which had returned 
 to bear her home. Indeed, Mrs. Sheridan could 
 only conjecture that Miss Lister had taken a sud- 
 den offence at something, although the hostess 
 was utterly unaware of having given cause for 
 such displeasure. AH these particulars Eachel 
 had learnt from Mrs. Sheridan's parlour-maid, 
 who had risen from her bed to answer the good 
 woman's summons at the door. 
 
 Agnes listened with affright and dismay to these 
 communications. At first she was so bewildered 
 she knew not what to think : she burst into 
 tears, and experienced a grief which seemed to be 
 utterly inconsolable. At length a taint suspicion 
 — yet vague and uncertain as the sound of far- 
 distant bells in the ear — began to steal into our 
 heroine's mind. She repelled it— or rather she 
 endeavoured to do so: but it returned and grew 
 stronger. Was it possible that Floribel could 
 have voluntarily absented herself? Yes!— all 
 circumstances combined to force upon Agnes the 
 conviction that such had been the case. It was 
 but too evident that her cousin had stealthily 
 glided away from Mrs. Sheridan's house: she had 
 not therefore been carried off by force. But for 
 what purpose could she have so absented herself? 
 Oh ! was it on account of the remonstrances which 
 Agnes had addressed to her, with such well-meant 
 earnestness, against a rash and precipitate union 
 with Thcudore Clifford ? Our unhappy heroine 
 feared that she now saw it all ! 
 
 Eachel — who was deeply attached to both the 
 young ladies— was also weeping; and she anxiously 
 watched Miss Evelyn's countenance to discover 
 what was passing in her thoughts. But Agnes 
 would not as yet explain herself thoroughly to th» 
 domestic, for fear lest by any accident the mys- 
 tery should receive a different solution— in which, 
 case she knew that she would feel sorry for having 
 breathed aught prejudicial to the cousin whom she 
 so dearly loved. She retired to her chamber, 
 where she gave way to the grief that filled her 
 
 As early as nine o'clock in the morning, Mrs. 
 Sheridan presented herself at Sidney Villa ; and 
 Agnes at once received her. That lady, on hear- 
 ing from her parlour-maid of Eachel's visit to her 
 house long after the party had broken up, had in- 
 stituted inquiries; and from a police-constable 
 she learnt that precisely at eleven o'clock on the 
 preceding night, a post-chaise had stopped in the 
 lane at the back-gate of the garden. The con. 
 stable, having been led by curiosity to watch from 
 a little distance, had seen a lady issue forth from 
 that gate : she was received by a gentleman in 
 a cloak and travelling cap : ho handed her into I 
 the chaise, which at once drove away in a north- 
 erly direction. The tale seemed to be confirmed . 
 by the fact that the bolts by which the garden- i 
 door of Mrs. Sheridan's premises was secured, were I 
 found that morning to have been drawn back, j 
 The policeman, wo should add, was at too great a ; 
 distance to observe the countenances of the gentle- i 
 man and lady to whom he alluded : but so far as ' 
 the few details of his description went in respect 
 to their stature and figure, there could be little 
 doubt that the one was JB'loribel and the other 
 Theodore Clifford. 
 
 The suspicions of Agnes were thus fully con- 
 firmed; and though overwhelmed with grief on 
 account of the imprudence of the step which her 
 cousin had taken, she nevertheless felt assured 
 that the elopement was fur the purpose of imme- 
 diate marriage. For the sake of Floribel's rcputa- 
 tion, she therefore at once assured Mrs. Sheridan 
 that such was the fact,— at the same time men- 
 tioning the name of the Hon. Mr. Clifford as that 
 of the individual with whom her cousin had un- 
 questionably eloped. Mrs. Sheridan took her de- 
 parture; and then Agnes proceeded to reveal to 
 Eachel all that she had hitherto suppressed. This 
 worthy woman was of course afilicted to think 
 that Miss Lister should have deemed it requisito 
 to take such an extraordinary step, when by the 
 2ise of her own will she might hare set 
 Miss Evelyn's remonstrances at naught: but still 
 she had too high an opinion of Floribel's good 
 principles to fancy for a moment that the elope- 
 ment had any other object than that of marriage. 
 
 ~ ignes knew not what course to adopt. 
 
 She felt so uneasy, wretched, and afilicted that it 
 
 1 if she must do something— but she was 
 
 bewildered by her own thoughts. If s'le could 
 
 ly find the slightest clue to the trsc'i which 
 
 Floribel and Theodore Clifford had taken, she 
 
 Id speed after them — she would not allow her 
 
 in to proceed to the aliar without at least 
 
 g accompanied by herself. But that clue was 
 
 rly wanting ; for though the post-chaise had 
 
 departed from Mrs. Sheridan's gate in a northerly 
 
 direction, how could conjecture hit upon the pre-
 
 IJJ aossb; OB, BEAO: 
 
 cise road which it had taken ? or how could in- 
 quiries be instituted upon such a point ? Agnes 
 therefore came to the conclusiuu that there waa 
 reall; nothing to be done in the matter, and that 
 she must endeavour to remain quiet until she re- 
 ceired some tidings of her cousin. She tboujht 
 to herself that Floribel vould nut be si) cruel as to 
 leave her very long in suspense, and that she 
 would be certain to write immediately after the 
 ceremony should have made her an honourably 
 wedded wife. 
 
 The rumour soon spread in the neighbourhood 
 that M'ss Lister had eloped with some gentleman 
 belonging to a high patrician family; and the 
 report failed not to reach Belmont Cottage at an 
 early hour. Charles was profoundly afflicted — for 
 he knew full well that bis belured Agnes would be 
 overwhelmed with grief. His first impulse was to 
 speed to Sidney Villa and proffer his consolations : 
 but Mrs. De Vere represented that it would be 
 more consistent with delicacy and propriety of 
 teeling if she herself were to call upon Miss Evelyn 
 in the first instance. Charles assented ; and Urs. 
 De Vere proceeded to Sidney Villa. Agnes had 
 however shut herself up in her chamber, having 
 given strict injunctions to Kachel to deny her to 
 everybody — her determination being to receive no 
 visitors, and to avoid all conversation upon the 
 painful subject until she should be in a position to 
 proclaim that her cousin had become the wife of 
 tbe gentleman with whom she had taken her de> 
 parture. Subsequently, however, when she heard 
 laiil ills. De Vere had called, she felt sorry she 
 had not proved accessible to that lady, considering 
 toe nature of the engagement which subsisted 
 "oL-tween herself and Charles. She therefore wrote 
 u note to Mrs. De Vere, apologizing for not having 
 seen her, and hoping to have that satisfaction on 
 the morrow. 
 
 In the afternoon Cicely Neale called at Sidney 
 ^'llla. To her likewise did lUchel explain that 
 her young mistress was too much distressed to see 
 any one : but Cicely declared that she could not 
 think of abandoning her friend to the painful 
 companionship of her own thoughts. £achel ac- 
 cordingly took it upon herself to introduce Miss 
 Ifeale into the presence of Agnes ; and the latter 
 was glad that her dependant had in this instance 
 disobeyed her instructions. Cicely said as much 
 as she could to'comfort Agnes : but she was care- 
 ful not to encourage too much hope that every, 
 tiling 'would terminate in a manner to dispel much 
 of Atiss Evelyn's grief in respect to her cousin ; 
 for Cicely had strong inisgivLuss in her own mind 
 relative to the purity of Mr. Clifford's intentions. 
 Not that she had any positive reason for suspect- 
 ing that gentleman, with whom she was indeed 
 totally unacquainted ; but her own sad experiences 
 had taught her to think lightly of iiatrician 
 honour when a too confiding female was con- 
 cerned. 
 
 "I can assiHre you, my dear Agnes," said 
 Cicely, "that my uncle and aimt were much 
 distressed when the intelligence reached Lincoln's 
 Inn Fields just now. You must permit me to 
 remain with you for a day or two. I cannot think 
 of leaving you altogether alone under such 
 painful circumstances ;— and if you will consent 
 to receive me as a companion and treat me as a 
 
 friend ' ' 
 
 Agnes interrupted the speech by throwing her- 
 
 self weeping into Miss Scale's arms : she did in- 
 deed now experience the want of a companion and 
 of a friend ; and she therefore gratefully assented 
 to Cicely's proposal. 
 
 It was about eleven o'clock at night when the 
 two young ladies separated, to retire %u their 
 chambers. An apartment adjoining the one which 
 Agnes occupied, had been prepared for Cicely : 
 but upon being conducted thither, she made no 
 immediate preparation to seek her couch. On 
 the contrary, the instant she found herself alone, 
 her proceedings were of a strange and singular 
 character. Having evidently from the first made 
 up her mind to pass a day or two at Sidney Villi, 
 she had ordered a box containing changes of ap- 
 parel and the requisites of the toilet, to be sent by 
 a carrier ; and this box had arrived in the course 
 of the evening. She now opened it ; and from 
 amongst the dresses which it contained, she drew 
 forth a pair of pistols. These she deliberately 
 began to load ; and when the task was accom- 
 plished she looked at her watch. It was then 
 half-past eleven o'clock. 
 
 '* At midnight it is to happen !" she muttered 
 to herself : and a singular expression of miugled 
 raje, distress, and firm resolution passed over her 
 
 She now extinguished the tapers ; and without 
 disappsrelliug herself, or making the slightest pre- 
 paration for rest, she sat down in the dark, and 
 soon fell into a profound reverie. But we must 
 leave her for the present, and direct the attention 
 of tbe reader to certain incidents that were passing 
 elsewhere. 
 
 A f«w minutes before midnight a postchaise 
 drew up at a little distance from the boundary- 
 wall belonging to the garden of Sidney Villa ; and 
 two persons alighted. Cue of them bade the 
 postilion make a little circuit in the neighbour- 
 hood, for fear lest the circumstance of such an 
 equipage stopping there should attract the atten- 
 tion of any belated persons returning to their 
 homes. The postilion was further directed to be 
 at the iron gate of Sidney Villa in about a quarter 
 of an hour's time. The chaise accordingly rolled 
 away ; and the two individuals who had alighted 
 from it, proceeded to the gate which has just been 
 alluded to. This was locked, as those persons in- 
 deed expected to find it: but having satisfied 
 themselves that no observer was nigh, they at once 
 . scaled it. 
 
 I Without maintaining any further mystery on 
 I the point, we may as well at once inform our 
 readers that these persons were Hector Hardress 
 and his valet. 
 
 The latter was a man of about five-and- 
 thirty years of age — thoronglily tmprincipled 
 
 had been for about a twelvemonth in the service 
 of his present master. 
 
 "Now, Luke," said Hector, so soon as they 
 were within the garden belonging to Sidney Villa, 
 " you thoroughly understand all that we nave to 
 do?" 
 
 "Everything, sir," was the man's ready re- 
 sponse. " It is not a very difficult matter to 
 can-y off a young lady, provided you can prevent 
 her from screaming in such a way as to alai-m the 
 household." 
 
 " There will be no fear of that," rejoined Hec-
 
 ! ; OE, BEAUTY AND PLKASUEB. 
 
 1U3 
 
 tor,— " thank' to the discovery of chloroform! 
 £ut remember, if we happen to meet any one of 
 the servants ** 
 
 " I will grapple her at once," answered Luke ; 
 " and trust to me, sir, that not a word shall issue 
 from her lips provided that you will be prompt in 
 applying the handkerchief with that stuff you 
 speak of to the nostrils, so as to quiet her alto- 
 gether." 
 
 "All our proceedings," rejoined Hardreas, " shall 
 he conducted with promptitude and energy. You 
 have your mask about you ?" he added, taking one 
 from bis own pocket and adjusting it upon his 
 countenance. 
 
 The example was immediately followed by Luke 
 Corbet ; so that master and man, with those block 
 vizards, had the air of burglars. The precaution 
 of concealing their faces had been suggested by 
 Hardress in case they should have to deal with 
 any of the domestics of Sidney Villa,— his object 
 being to involve in as much mystery as possible 
 the authorship of the bold outrage which he con- 
 templated. 
 
 The diabolic plan which he had formed, may 
 be briefly explained. His purpose was to carry 
 off Agnes Evelyn to a secluded house which he 
 had hired some ten or a dozen miles distant, and 
 where he resolved that her honour should be sacri- 
 ficed to his passion. He calculated that when 
 once she found that his triumph and her own dis. 
 grace were accomplished, she would of necessity 
 accept the position of his mistress, and that no 
 disagreeable consequences would result from the 
 villanous outrage by which it was intended to 
 make her his victim. Hector Hardress had been 
 for the last few days hatching this plot in concert 
 with his valet Luke Corbet : and when in the 
 course of the day which had just passed, the intel- 
 \igence reached him of Floribel's elopement, for- 
 tune appeared to be favouring his nefarious scheme 
 by the removal of one whose presence in the villa 
 had previously appeared to constitute no mean 
 difUculty, inasmuch as Hector knew, or at least 
 believed, that the cousins occupied the same 
 cbambtr. 
 
 Having adjusted the masks upon their faces, 
 Hector and his valet approached the villa. In 
 one front room only was a light to be discerned ; 
 and this was glimmering through the curtains 
 which were closed within the casement of that 
 chamber. Hardress had no doubt that this was 
 the room in which hie intended victim slept ; and 
 he instantaneously comprehended its position in 
 reference to the staircase, which he hoped very 
 shortly to ascend. Passing round to the rear of 
 the premises, ho and his valet at once commenced 
 their operations ; for Hardress was well acquainted 
 with all the arrangements and details of the esta- 
 hlishment, alike fi-om a knowledge of the interior 
 as from observation made in respect to the exterior 
 in those time.'; ^vht;n he was accustomed to call at 
 the house and had walked in the garden with the 
 yonng ladies. There was a glass-door which had a 
 shutter fixed up within. A glazier's diamond, 
 with which the valet was provided, speedily and 
 noiselessly cut out one of the squares of glass ; 
 and a small centre-bit, plied dexterously, soon 
 made a hole sufficiently large for the introduction 
 of a hand. The screw which retained the shutter 
 wa« now quickly removed by taking off the nut 
 
 fastening it on the inner 'ide. Then the shutter 
 was cautiously lowered ; and the extraction of an- 
 other pane of glass enabled Hector to introduco 
 his hand and unlock the door. If the key had 
 not been found in the lock — or if there should 
 have happened to be bolts which could not be 
 reached from the outside — the alternative would 
 have been to cut away a sufficiency of the glass 
 framework to admit a human form ; and for all 
 these eventualities the valet was provided with the 
 requisite implements. But the key did happen t& 
 be in the lock ; and no bolts proved to be fastened. 
 The entry into the house was thus effected : 
 Hardress and the valet found themselves in a pas- 
 sage communicating direct with the hall. A com- 
 plete silence reigned throughout the villa ; and 
 treading with the utmost caution, they advanced 
 towards the staircase. This they ascended ; and 
 they gained the landing communicating with the 
 
 I principal chambers. But now a chance had to be 
 encountered against which at the outset it was 
 scarcely possible to provide, and which therefore 
 
 I had to be left to the chapter of accidents. It was 
 whether the door of Agues' room should be found 
 locked or unlocked. On this chance Hardress 
 knew full well depended the success or failure of 
 his nefarious project. 
 
 Noiselessly, on tiptoe, did Hector advance to the 
 door of that chamber where the gUmmering light 
 had been seen through the curtained windows 
 from the outside. He grasped the handle— he 
 turned it with the utmost caution— his heart leapt 
 with a criminal exultation as the door yielded to 
 his touch. Slowly he opened it sufficiently to 
 listen: all was silent within. A little further ha 
 opened it, so as to be enabled to look into the 
 room ; and at the same time his hand clutched a 
 kerchief which was strongly impregnated with 
 chloroform. Agnes was wrapped in a profound 
 slumber. The light which was burning on the 
 toilet-table, played upon one side of her oouate- 
 nance, thus revealing with a Rembrandt effect the 
 rugularly formed and beautiful profile. The luxu- 
 riant masses of the golden auburn hair lay float, 
 ingly over the pillow: one fair arm was beneath 
 her head— the other reposed, softly curved, upon 
 the counterpane. It was the slumber of angelic 
 innocence in which she was steeped: a halo of 
 purity and chastity appeared to surround her; and 
 yet the better feelings of the profligate patrician 
 were not touched by the spectacle : — on the con- 
 trary, his evil passions were all the more power- 
 fully excited. 
 
 He was advancing on tiptoe towards the couch, 
 when all of a sudden Luke Corbet kicked his foot 
 agsiust some piece of furniture as he was follow- 
 ing his master ; and Agnes started up in affright. 
 Terror and consternation however sealed her lips 
 long enough to enable Hector Hardress to reach 
 the side of the couch ; and the kerchief which he 
 clutched in his hand was thrust into the yor.rg 
 lady's face at the very instant when a cry for as- 
 sistance was about to peal forth from her tonsuc. 
 She sank back upon the pillow in a state of im- 
 conscionsness ; and it was oU the work of a mo- 
 ment from the time that her eyes opened ustil they 
 thus closed again. But just as Hector Hardress 
 was on the very point of winding his arms around 
 her form to lift her from the couch, an ejaculation 
 burst from his valet, Luke Corbet; and on look-
 
 iog round, he beheld another person upon the 
 
 This was Cicely Neale, nith a pistul in each 
 hand. Her countenance was pale — but it ex- 
 pressed the firmest decision, mingled with indig- 
 nation—almost with rage. Hector, who had 
 little expected to find the victim ct his seduc- 
 tion beneath that roof, was transfixed to the spot; 
 and through the ejelet holes of his mask his looks 
 were riveted in confusion, bewilderment, and dis- 
 may upon Cicely Neale. A glance had shown her 
 •bat Agnes was Ijing in a state of unconscious- 
 iipss; and she lost no time in profiting thereby. 
 Xoiselessly closing the door, she made an impe- 
 rious gesture for Luke Corbet to pass farther into 
 (be room, so as not to be betwixt herself and that 
 door ; and he at once obeyed her — for the man 
 seemed utterly overwhelmed with terror at the ap- 
 pearance of Miss K"eale. 
 
 "Xow, Mr. Hardress," she said, in a voice which 
 although subdued, was most firm and decisive in 
 its accents, "sit down at that table— commit to 
 paper a solemn declaration that within ten days 
 from the present time you will make me your wife 
 — or mercilessly will I shoot you through the 
 
 As she thus spoke. Cicely held one weapon 
 levelled point-blank towards Hector's countenance, 
 and the other towards Luke Corbet. The expres- 
 sion of her features was that of the strongest re- 
 solve; and Hector Hardress, who know her cha- 
 racter and disposition vreW, trembled with an 
 almost mortal terror as he felt that his life hung 
 upon a tLread. 
 
 " Hasten, sir," she said : " there is not a minute 
 to lose ! Decide!— you know that you are in my 
 
 And Hector saw that such was the case. All 
 thi.' circumstances of his predicament swept 
 throusrh his mind in a moment. The forcible yet 
 stealthy nature of the entry which had been 
 .. 'f ected iTito thf house — the black masks -which he 
 :;;:.. l.i-; i : ]ii|':iiii;iu wore, and which would be re- 
 
 :l'i H li 1>\ A_ u(?3 when she retui-ned to con- 
 
 ,1 ;i ■ .--:j;iicsiiokeacasoof burglary in which 
 ,;■; 1 [i;vulu:il v.ould be justified in shooting the 
 .Ittuirrs on the spot. 
 
 i'or a siu-le iu.^tant ho thought of rushing 
 at Cicely and endeavouring to overpower her ; 
 but the pistols were most menacingly levelled 
 at himself and his follower ; and there was in 
 the expression of Miss Neale's connten.ance 
 so much stern decision that Hector dared not 
 attempt violence nor hesitate another instant 
 what course to pursue. 
 
 He accordingly .sat down at a table on which 
 there were writiug-materials ; and as Cicely 
 bent over hiui to dictate, he shuddered with 
 a cold horror on feeling that the muzzle of 
 one of the pistols was touching the back of 
 his head. He was completely in the power of 
 that strange, coui-ageous, desperate young 
 woman ; and he was compelled to yield to her 
 imperious will. 
 
 " Seek not," she said, in a firm though whisper- 
 ing voice, " to disguise or alter your signa- 
 tui'e with the hope hereafter raising a doubt 
 in respect to its genuineness ; for I am not to 
 be trifled with ! To me it is now the same 
 whether this night I wreak a deadly but safe re- 
 venge for all my wrongs— or whether I coerce yon 
 into such a pledge of atonement which you will 
 not dare violate." 
 
 y AND n.EiSCKE. 
 
 Tbe signature of Hector Hardress was alBied 
 to the document, the contents of which he had 
 written to Cicely's dictation ; and as he rose from 
 the chair, she imperiously signalled the valet to 
 approach and affis his own signature as that of a 
 witness to the deed. But all this while she so 
 levelled the weapons that they held the lives of 
 master and man hanging as it were to threads ; 
 and Luke Corbet crept like a grovelling coward 
 towards the chair which she so peremptorily indi- 
 cated. He nevertheless wrote his name plainly 
 and boldly enough; and then Cicely, motioning 
 towards the door, gave utterance to the single im- 
 perious word—" Begone !" 
 
 Utterly crest-fallen, discomfited, yet full of an 
 impotent rage to which ho dared not give vent, 
 Hardress stole forth from the chamber, followed 
 by his valet. But ere Luke Corbet passed the 
 threshold, he turned his head for a moment; and 
 through the boles of his mask he flung upoi. 
 Cicely a rapid look. She answered it with a 
 glance of triumphant intelligence; and then tbe 
 men disappeared from her view. 
 
 Miss Neale now advanced towards the couch; 
 and finding that Agues was still wrapped in the , 
 profoundest unconsciousness, she look up the 
 document from the table — and stealing back to 
 her own chamber, secured it, together with the 
 pistol's, in her box. 
 
 "Had he refused- or had he attempted the 
 least violence," she murmured to herself, " I would 
 have consummated my vengeance ruthlessly ana 
 remorselessly I But it is far better so !" — and she 
 glanced triumphantly towards the box in which 
 the deed was secured. 
 
 She then returned into Miss Evelyn's chamber: 
 but she did not immediately adopt any measures j 
 for the restoration of the young lady. It did i 
 not suit h^r purpose that an alarm should be 
 raised until Hector and his valet were safe i 
 out of the premises, and consequently out of pur- | 
 suit. 
 
 The house was all quiet : the entire scene had | 
 passed unheard and unsuspected by the domestics ; 
 and thus Agnes could never know that Cicely had • 
 suffered some little while to elapse ere she ad pted 
 t '.le requisite means to bring her back to conscious- 
 
 When Miss Nealo fancied that a sufficient in- 
 terval had gone by to place Hector aed Luke 
 Corbet beyond the reach of any danger, she began 
 to bestow her attentions on Agnes. 
 
 Our young heroine -slowly opened her eyes — for 
 the stupefying effects of the chloroform did not 
 pass immediately away ; and now Miss Neale 
 thought it pnident to summon the domestics and 
 to assume an excited and terrified exjiression cf 
 countenance. 
 
 The villa was therefore speedily a scene of con- 
 sternation and dismay : but Cicely soon began to 
 perform a par: of heroic boldness, by descending to 
 ascertain (as she said) whether the burglars were 
 still upon the premises. Kachel would not suffer 
 her to proceed alone ; and the means by which 
 thj entry ha 1 been effected was very quickly 
 ascertained. We need hardly observe that 
 Agnes was powerfully excited when, being 
 brought back to complete consciousness, she ! 
 rememWod bow she had seen two individuals 
 with black masks in her chamber. But no- 
 thing had been cai-i-ied off ; and thus Miss ! 
 Evelyn and the domestics fancied they had every j 
 reason to congratulate themselves that they had '
 
 PLEASURE. 
 
 Cicely's eipUnations were soon given, and were 
 u a matter of course fully believed by those who 
 listened to them. She said that on retiring to her 
 chamber she felt no inclination to sleep, and that 
 she had therefore sat down over one of the books 
 which she found there. She read for some time — 
 until becoming sleepy, she was about to commence 
 the process of disapparelling herself, when she 
 thought she heard a door open upon the landing. 
 Fearing that Miss Evelyn might be ill— or at all 
 ereots convinced that something unusual was 
 taking place— Cicely went on to say that she 
 issued forth from her own room ; and perceiving 
 that the door of Miss Evelyn's chamber was half 
 
 " Then, to my consternation," proceeded Cicely, 
 " I beheld the two men ; and • or; escaped my 
 Ko. 14.— A9BB8. 
 
 lips. I wonder that you" — now addressingherself 
 to the servants—" heard it not. The burglars were 
 instantaneously seized with a panic — and they fled. 
 I do not hesitate to confess that for some few mo- 
 ments I was so overwhelmed with terror as to b9 
 almost in a fainting condition : I had no power to 
 give vent to another cry, nor even to move from 
 the chair on which I bad sunk down. If the 
 wretches had only known what the state of my 
 feeling was, they would not have hurried off so 
 precipitately: — but crime often makes cowards of 
 those who are seeking to perpetrate it." 
 
 The matter continued to be discussed for soma 
 while longer : but it was evident to Cicely that 
 Agnes did not for an instant suspect that one of 
 the masked individuals was Hector Hardress ; and 
 it did not suit Miss Neale's purpose to afford any 
 enlightening information upon the point. No ap> 
 prehension was entertained that the supposed bur- 
 glars would take it into their beads to return ; and
 
 IOC AGNES; OB, BEA 
 
 thus it -was not deemed requisite to com. 
 rauricate with the police.authorities until the 
 morning. Cicely passed the remainder of the 
 night in the chamber of Agnes, towards whom 
 she displayed attentions that enlisted the most 
 friendly and grateful feelings on the part of our 
 heroine. 
 
 At an early hour in the morning Eachel 
 proceeded to the police-station ; and an In- 
 spector, with a couple of constables, at once 
 accompanied her to Sidney Villa. Having 
 carefully examined the premises, the officers 
 expressed their opinion that the burglary 
 had been clumsily executed and was evidently 
 the work of novices in the art. They inquired 
 whether Miss Evelyn purposed to offer any 
 reward for their apprehension ? - but Agnes 
 did not wish to take a step which would attract 
 public attention to the villa and make it the sub- 
 ject of newspaper-paragraphs. She accordingly 
 declined to adopt the suggestion that had been 
 thrown ont. The officers nevertheless assured her 
 that every endeavour should be made to get upon 
 the tr.ick of the burglars ; and they recommended 
 varioufl precautions which might be adopted for 
 rendering the premises thenceforth more secure. 
 These hints were adopted b; Agnes ; and for the 
 remainder of the day carpenters and smiths were 
 employed at Sidney Villa in establishing bettor 
 defences than those nhieh had previously existed 
 against burglarious attempts. 
 
 The officers could not help thinking there was 
 some strange mystery in the occurrence : but still 
 they did not disbelieve Cicely Neale's explanations 
 — nor did their suspicions in any way settle upon 
 the domestics. They instituted all possible in- 
 quiries in the neighbourhood, but could learn 
 nothing to afford them the slightest clue to the 
 authors of the outrage ; and Miss Neale inwardly 
 rejoiced that everything should thus have passed 
 off in a manner so well suited to the furtherance 
 of those views which she had founded upon the 
 previous knowledge that Hector Hardress contem- 
 plated the proceeding in respect to Agnes. The 
 source whence Cicely had obtained the information 
 on which she had so resolutely acted, is no doubt 
 already suspected by the reader; for the adven- 
 turous and persevering young lady had succeeded 
 in bribing Luke Corbet to her interests. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE " CAinABINE JIILLAED." 
 
 The scene of our story now shifts to a far-distant 
 quarter of the world ; and the reader is about to 
 be introduced to scenes of an interest widely dif- 
 ferent from those on which his attention has 
 hitherto been riveted. Yet it must not be ima- 
 gined at the outset that the episoHo on which we 
 are about to enter, is utterly disconnected from 
 the thread of our story : on the contrary, it will 
 be presently found that they are all links of the 
 same chain — and if for the time severed and scat- 
 tered, yet destined sooner or later to resume their 
 appropriate junctions and fittings. 
 
 A large merchant hip was ploughing the waves 
 of the Caribbean Sea. and making fortbe island 
 of Jamaica, from which it was still however at a 
 
 TY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 considerable di.«tance. It was an English 
 vessel, and had originally been fitted out in 
 that spirit of enterprise which was excited 
 in England at the time thereof we are writ- 
 ing, by the first reports of the discovery 
 of gold in California. The " Catharine Mil- 
 lard," named after one of the daughters of 
 its owner, had thus been freighted from the 
 port of London with that species of merchan- 
 dise which it was presumed would obtain a 
 ready sale in the Calif mian gold-regions ; 
 and the Captain— an intelligent and enter- 
 prising man — had received discretionary powers 
 in respect to his future proceedings after his 
 arrival in California. The venture had proved 
 most successful : and the Captain, judging 
 by all the information he received at the 
 nascent town of San Francisco, determined to 
 undertake a trading expedition to the West 
 Indies, whence with the produce of those islands 
 it was his resolve to return to California ere be 
 bent his course back again to England. In the 
 execution of these plans it is evident that a long 
 period of time most necessarily be involved, and 
 the crew had to calculate upon a protracted ab- 
 sence from their native country. But the officers 
 and men all shared in the enterprising spirit of 
 their Captain : the Catharine Millard was a fine 
 vessel— there was the novelty of visiting countries 
 previously unknown, except by name, to most of 
 the crew— and there were likewise opportunities 
 of a little private traffic for their own individual 
 advantages. Moreover, the voyages had hitherto 
 been prosperous enough: twice had Cape Horn 
 been doubled— and with the exception of those 
 ordinary dangers which invariably attend upon 
 ships visiting that quarter of the world, there had 
 been nothing to constitute any very startling fea- 
 tures in the expedition. Thus at length, after a 
 lapse of about twenty months since the Catharine 
 Millard first cleared out of the Thames, it was 
 now ploughing the sea which washes the shores of 
 the West India Islands. 
 
 It was evening: the sun had set — the breeze 
 was blowing strongly— and the Catharine Millard 
 was pursuing its way under as much canvass as it 
 was thought prudent to carry, considering that 
 the aspect of the heavens was of a somewhat 
 menacing character. Leaning over the bulwarks, 
 and watching the waves as they rolled past— 
 sometimes in dark undulating volumes, at others 
 gleaming with their white foam through the in- 
 creasing obscurity of the hour— was a youth who 
 held the position of a junior officer. He was a 
 fine, tall, handsome-looking yoUng man, with an 
 expression of countenance in which a noble frank- 
 ness blended with the calm hardihood and serene 
 fortitude of the sailor. The thick clustering curls 
 of his dark brown hair, which he wore somewhat 
 long, were waving beneath the gold-laced edge of 
 his blue cap ; and his large blue eyes were, as we 
 have already said, fixed upon the waves as they 
 rolled past. He was now more thoughtful than 
 usual ; for habitually he was gay and cheerful- 
 he was fond of the profession in which he had 
 embarked— the excitement of a sailor's life suited 
 his bold, enterprising, and somewhat reckless dis- 
 position — and he had moreover from the outset 
 resolved upon forming a fine career for himself, 
 Why, then, was he thoughtful now ? Was it that 
 he entertained any dread lest his sanguine hopes 
 should be disappointed f — was it that through the
 
 OK, BEAtriT AND PLBA8DEK. 
 
 107 
 
 tyranny of superiors any damp had been thrown 
 upon his mind or any unjust curb put upon his 
 naturally fine spirits? — or was it that bis heart 
 began to fail him as he beheld the indications of 
 an approaching tempest ? Is o — it was nothing of 
 all this. Being a general favourite on board the 
 Catharine Millard, he had every reason to be 
 gratified with the kind treatment he experienced 
 from the Captain and at the hands of his brother- 
 officers, as well as with the respectful attachment 
 which all the sailors displayed towards him. His 
 confidence in his own power of pushing his way 
 in the world had received no shock ; and' as for 
 alarm at the prospect of an approaching storm, 
 this gallant midshipman knew not what fear was. 
 But a melancholy for which he himself could not 
 possibly account, had gradually, stolen over him — a 
 creeping sense of gloom that not even the natural 
 buoyancy of his spirits could dispel;— and thus, 
 though he did not actually abandon himself to it, 
 yet he was drawn as it were involuntarily beneath 
 its influence until at last it appeared to gain the 
 atrength of a presentiment of some evil. 
 
 With an effort to shake it off, our young mid- 
 shipman suddenly quitted his motionless position 
 at the bulwark ; and he was about to join another 
 officer who was standing near the man at the 
 wheel, when a hand was laid upon his arm— and 
 a trembling, quivering voice asked, ** Do you— do 
 you think, Jlr. Barrington, that— that— there is 
 any danger?" 
 
 The question was put by an old man, whose age 
 could not have been a day less than sixty, and 
 might have been two or three years more advanced 
 — but whose shrivelled, attenuated form had be- 
 come wiry, hardened, and tanned as it were, into a 
 condition of self- preserving vigour. He was short 
 of stature— stooped very slightly— and habitually 
 walked with a firm step, though at the present 
 moment he was trembling in every limb : for 
 weatherbeaten with voyage and travel though he 
 were, inured to hardship, and experienced in perils 
 both by land by sea, he had nevertheless failed to 
 acquire the grand quality which if not inborn, is 
 at least usually gained from the circumstances of 
 such a life— namely, that of courage. But then 
 this old man was one of that class whose minds are 
 ever haunted by countless apprehensions. The 
 sharpness of his thin features— the keen gaze of 
 those eyes wherein suspicion ever seemed to lurk 
 — the strong compression of the thin lips — the 
 deep lines which, different from the wrinkles 
 of old age, marked his countenance — and the 
 general manner of mistrust, reserve, and timi- 
 dity which characterised him, — all denoted the 
 miser. Such was the individual who, creeping 
 towards the young midshipman, put that tremu- 
 lous question whether any danger were to be ap- 
 prehended i 
 
 "AVhy, Mr. Elverstone," answered the youth, 
 "there is always more or less danger, yon know, 
 to those who have but some pieces of timber as a 
 harrier betwixt them and eternity. But if ever 
 timbers were well joined together — and if ever a 
 vessel showed a handiness in doing her work — it is 
 assuredly in respect to the good ship Catharine 
 Millard." 
 
 '* You sailors always give me some such reply as 
 this — always !" said the old man, petulantly and 
 querulously. " I never in my life knew a seaman, 
 old or young, who did not swear that his ship was 
 
 the best that ever swam— though perhaps all the 
 while it was the veriest leaky old tub " 
 
 "Tou had better go down below, Mr. Elver- 
 stone," interrupted young Barrington : " for I 
 don't hesitate to tell you that it is likely to prove a 
 rough night. Though with a good ship and plenty 
 of sea-room " 
 
 " Always these same phrases !" ejaculated tho 
 miser, still more petulantly and querulously than 
 before. " I — I don't know how it is— but you 
 sailors are the' most reckless dare-devils " 
 
 " Surely your experiences of the sea," rejoined 
 Barrington, " ought to inspire you with more for- 
 
 '* It is just on account of those very expe- 
 riences," said the old man, " that— that I feel— you 
 understand me— a little nervous. But do tell me 
 — for you have always spoke kinder to me than 
 any one else from the very first day that I em- 
 barked at San Francisco -" 
 
 Here the miser's speech was interrupted by a 
 sudden command on the part of the Captain to 
 take in more sail ; for the power of the wind was 
 increasing. Elverstone's alarm likewise increased: 
 but the young midshipman had sped away from 
 him to attend to his own duties ; and as the spray 
 was now beating in sharp showers over the deck, 
 the trembling old man descended to his berth. 
 
 Again, in about ten minutes, Gustatus Barring- 
 ton was leaniijg against the bulwark, contemplat- 
 ing the rolling waves which were now successively 
 crested with foam ; and again did an unknown 
 saddening influence steal more and more heavily 
 upon his mind. Again too did it assume the sen- 
 sation of a presentiment : but the natural fear- 
 lessness of the youth's disposition would not permit 
 him to anticipate any serious danger from the 
 tempest that might probably arise. His thoughts 
 travelled far, far across the ocean — until he at 
 length found himself saying silently in the depths 
 of his soul, " God grant that nothing has happened 
 to my dear cousin 'Winuie or to my poor old grand- 
 father 1" 
 
 Nearly all sailors are superstitious ; and though 
 the natural intelligence of Gustavus Barrington 
 preserved him from a gross infection of that super- 
 stition with which he was placed in contact, yet he 
 had been brought within its influence at too tender 
 an age to be enabled to escape it entirely. His 
 present mood was full well calculated to encourage 
 the feeling, until at length he resolved to bear in 
 mind the particular date on which he was thus 
 affected. 
 
 "The/i/a ofOdoher," he said to himself : "I 
 shall not forget it. After all, it will most 
 likely prove to be nothing more than one of 
 those strange desponding feelings for whicla 
 one cannot accotmt at the time ? — and perhaps, 
 when I return to England, I shall find by a 
 comparison of notes that those whom I hold dear 
 were as happy at this hour as under their un- 
 fortimate circumstances they possibly cotJd be ? 
 Oh, Winnie ! to embrace you once again— and 
 you too, my poor persecuted grandfather— how 
 rejoiced shall I be!" 
 
 Gustavus Barringrton turned away from the btil. 
 wark and joined his brother-officers, with whom he 
 conversed for some little whi e. The weather grew 
 more and more threatening ; the strength of the 
 wind was increasing into the violence of a gale : 
 the waves ran higher and higher ; and their sum-
 
 108 AOHES; OS, BEA.CtY ASD FLEAaUBE. 
 
 mite, breaking into foam, gleamed ghasti; through waters. But buojant she rose— the raging 1 
 
 the increasing darkness ot the night. Ail the 
 usual bustle and activity belonging to such cir- 
 cumstances on board a ship, were now displayed. 
 The mandates of the Captain were sent forth 
 firmly and steadily, but with somewhat more 
 peremptoriness than usual, as if to convey the im- 
 pression that they must be instantaneously obeyed. 
 And it was likewise with steadiness, though with 
 an alacrity which appeared to take every passing 
 moment into account, that the various orders were 
 executed by the seamen under the guidance of 
 their oiEcers. Thus, for the next hour the time of 
 Gustavus Barrington was fully employed, as well 
 as that of the rest of the crew. 
 
 But now came an interval of a few minutes 
 during which he was again standing by himself on 
 the deck ; and then towards him again crept the 
 trembling old miser. 
 
 " Tell me, Mr. Barrington," he said, — " pray, 
 for God's sake tell me ! do you think— do you, I 
 mean, entertain the slightest apprehension — I 
 don't mean fear you know — because to imply that, 
 would be insulting a brave young gentleman like 
 
 you ; but— but " 
 
 "Eeally, Mr. Elveistone, you had better keep 
 below," answered the youth, speaking kindly how- 
 ever, for he could not help pitying the wretched 
 old man, although he full well knew his hard, 
 griping, avaricious disposition. 
 
 " Well, well, I will," said the miser : " but pray, 
 pray promise me one thing ? Look you, my dear 
 Mr. Barrington— my dear Gustavus— for you are 
 
 a good youth if there should be any danger 
 
 you will let me know first of all— before the other 
 passengers— you will not leave it till the last— you 
 will come and whisper in my ears — you will give 
 
 me a kind hint " 
 
 " Sest assured, sir," interrupted Gustavus, with 
 a slight display of indignation at the manifest self- 
 ishness contained in this appeal,— " rest assured, 
 sir, that if there be any danger, and if an extreme 
 case should arise — which I really do not expect — 
 the Captain will adopt all requisite precautions for 
 the safety of his passengers and crew." 
 
 "Yes, yes— I know it," interjected the old man, 
 in a strange nervous state of querulous petulance 
 and abject helplessness. " But then, in those 
 cases, there is no respect for persons or property- 
 
 and you, my dear Gustavus Heavens, how the 
 
 ship pitches ! — you, I say, must take care of me, 
 for I am an old man The timbers creak fright- 
 fully ! — and if it should come to anything very, 
 
 vert/ perilous The spray is blinding !— you must 
 
 get me first into a boat— or on a raft— anything, 
 ray dear young man ! — but for God's sake do not 
 desert me !" 
 
 " I shall desert no one to whom I can render 
 the slightest assistance," responded Gustavus. 
 " But I repeat, your apprehensions may be al- 
 together imfounded — you are meeting danger 
 
 half-way " 
 
 At this moment the ship experienced a violent 
 shock, as if it struck against some object which 
 standing up from the depth of the ocean, checked 
 its progress : but it was an immense wave that 
 broke over it. Quick as lightning did Gustavus 
 Barrington throw his left arm round (tie old man, 
 while with his right hand he firmly grasped a 
 rope, for an instant it seemed as if the vessel 
 were submerged and engulfed in the roaring 
 
 swept off the deck— and the miser was clinging, 
 half dead with affright, to the youth who by his 
 sudden presence of mind had saved him from being 
 borne away by that terrifically sweeping gush of 
 waters. 
 
 " Oh, my God !" faltered forth the miserable 
 wretch, gasping for breath like one that was half. 
 drowned ; " I know we shall be overwhelmed 
 presently ! Fool — idiot that I was to leave a 
 
 place " 
 
 "Where you would have been murdered for 
 your gold," responded Gustavus, " if you had re- 
 mained. But pray go below, Mr. ElverBtone— I 
 conjure — I command you I" 
 
 " Tes, yes— in a minute," he tremulously re- 
 plied : " but— but — when I am below, it seeme to 
 me as if the danger was a thousand times greater. 
 And yet here it is awful ! My God, those dreadful 
 waves ! — this fearful hurricane .' — the creaking and 
 groaning of the timbers, as if the ship itself was a 
 living thing ! Oh, my dear Gustavus— good young 
 man— excellent youth— you will have pity on me — 
 
 land if the worst should happen " 
 
 " Yes, yes, Mr. Elverstone," ejaculated Gus- 
 tavus. " But you must go below." 
 
 " One word more !— only one word !"— and the 
 old man now spoke rapidly, while both bis hands 
 clutched the youth's arms with their bony, wiry 
 fingers— and his eyes were fixed keenly through 
 the darkness upon Barrington's handsome counte- 
 nance. *' I have got a little gold — not much, you 
 know— very, very little— but still it is toma—mi 
 
 if you save me " 
 
 " 2^0 inducement of this kind," interrupted 
 
 Gustavus, " is necessary to " 
 
 "Stop! stop!— do not be so hasty! I don't 
 
 mean to insult you but do for heaven's sake 
 
 think of me ! Think of me first of all-if the 
 worst should arrive — as I am sure it will ! And 
 you know that chest of mine— you have seen it 
 
 in my berth Well, my dear Gustavus " 
 
 Here again the usual warning was given by 
 those who were on the look-out : again did a 
 mighty sea sweep over the ship, making it reel 
 and quiver and tremble as if its huge bulk were 
 but a mere elastic reed in the midst of the troubled 
 waters : and again was the old man saved by the 
 timely interposition of the generous Gustavus. 
 Once more the Catharine Millard rose buoyant on 
 the agitated sea ; and then Gustavus bore the old 
 miser, more dead than alive, down to ;lus berth. 
 The instant he was there, Elverstone threw himself 
 upon the chest which contained his treasures; and 
 recovering all the keenness of his vitality, he re- 
 newed his half-tremuJous, half-passionate entrea- 
 ties to the young midshipman in the same strain 
 as I eforc. But Gustavus tarried not to hear him ; 
 and clo ing the door of the cabin, he rushed upon 
 deck. 
 
 The tempest was now rapidly rising to its 
 full height,— presenting all its features of awful 
 sublimity and of teror to those minds that 
 were susceptible of these influences. But 
 there was no fear on the i art of the officers 
 or men of the Catharine Millard. A sense of 
 danger there was — and a serious sense too ; 
 but there was no craven alarm. Every one 
 continued in the performance of his duty 
 with a calm steadiness of purpose, and yet 
 with all the alacrity which skilful experience
 
 AGNES; OB, BEAUTT ANB PLEASUKB, 
 
 taught and which every successive exigency de- 
 manded. And the waves were now rolling, in 
 landsman's terms, " mountains high" — the wind 
 had acquired the violence of a hurricane — the 
 vessel pitched, and in all its timbers it creaked 
 and groaned like a living thing; while the rattling 
 of the cordage mingled with the other voices which 
 were inseparable from the tempest. His garments 
 saturated with water — his brown locks fluttering 
 in their heavy dampness beneath the cap which 
 the leathern strap had retained upon his head— 
 Gustavus Barrington was second to none in 
 activity with which he performed his duties. 
 gloomy presentiment was forgotten now : the sense 
 of danger, rising superior to every mental element 
 of weakness, had inspired him with a thrilling 
 courage — the excitement of the strongest forti- 
 tude. He thought of his cousin and of his grand- 
 sire— but not in a way to render those images a 
 source of weakness ; on the contrary, they seemed 
 as incentives to the performance of his duty in a 
 manner which might make them proud of him, if 
 he should survive this awful night and return in 
 due time to England to tell the tale. 
 
 And as that night advanced, so did the tempest 
 seem to gather fresh power and to acquire from 
 fche Demon of the Storm fresh elements of fury. 
 Yet bravely did the good ship roll on under the 
 small amount of canvass that it now carried ; and 
 in its buoyancy it seemed to defy the power of the 
 billows to engulf it, or that of the winds to scatter 
 it as (k wreck upon the ocean. 
 
 It is not our purpose to enter into unnecessary 
 details relative to this scene of storm, which every 
 instant grew more awful amidst the stupendous 
 darkness of the night. The sea continued to 
 break over the ship— at one time carrying away 
 a portion of its bulwarks, and at another staving 
 in the principal boat. After a while it became 
 evident that danger was indeed most imminent ; 
 and the Captain now made all requisite prepara- 
 tions for the worst. The rudder was gone— the 
 ship was leaking — and she was drifting likewise at 
 the mercy of the hurricane, which might at any 
 moment carry her upon a rock or sand- bank. The 
 passengers — who had hitherto for the most part 
 remained below in compliance with the earnest 
 injunctions of the Captain — rushed upon the deck ; 
 and a wild scene of horror ensued. Mothers were 
 pressing their children to their bosoms : females 
 who had no children— and were in this sense hap- 
 pier than the others— were flying about in every 
 direction : frenzy was displayed by husbands and 
 father.^ on one side — while on the other they 
 sank down in blank helpless despair. But where 
 was the old miser ? Amidst the bustle and 
 activity occasioned by the preparations which 
 had been made in case the worst should ensue, 
 Gustavus Barrington had forgotten the wretched 
 being who had so earnestly and piteously 
 entreated to be remembered by him. All of 
 a sudden the youth recollected him ; and con. 
 vinced that the crisis was now approaching 
 — feeling likewise that he was an object of 
 reliance on the part of the helpless old man 
 —and generously anxious to do his best to 
 serve a fellow-creature in that awful hour of peril, 
 the youth resolved to seek him. Making his hasty 
 way amidst the empty casks, the hencoops, the 
 planks, and the spars, which had been crowded 
 confusedly en the deck in order to serve the last 
 
 io;i 
 
 moments of the expected emergency, Gustavus 
 sought everywhere for the object of his interest. 
 The dread spectacle of lamenting women and 
 children crying in their agonizing terror made his 
 heart bleed : and, oh ! he felt as if he could at the 
 instant offer up his own life as a propitiation to 
 the fury of the Demon of the Storm if by that 
 sacrifice he could purchase the safety of all the 
 
 Vain was the rapid search of Gustavus upon 
 the deck for the old miser ; and he rushed down 
 below. He tore open the door of Elverstone's 
 berth ; and there a strange spectacle met his eyes. 
 A lantern, swinging to the ceiling formed by the 
 deck above, showed Gustavus the old miser kneel- 
 ing by the side of his chest, and thence from 
 smaller boxes taking quantities of gold, alike in 
 nuggets and in dust, and with the precious metal 
 filling two or three leathern bags which had pre- 
 viously contained other articles. There was some- 
 thing but too well calculated to shock the mind of 
 Gustavus Barrington in the spectacle which he 
 thus beheld,— that wretched old man's last care 
 being devoted to his gold at an instant when death 
 was hovering around, bat-like, upon the huge 
 sable pinions of the storm ! 
 
 " For heaven's sake come ! — come quick, I say!" 
 exclaimed Gustavus : and bit hand clutched Elver- 
 stone's shoulder. 
 
 "One minute! only one minute!" shrieked 
 forth the miser, lifting his countenance, on the 
 haggardness of which the sickly light of the 
 lantern fell with the ghastliest effect. 
 
 " Not a minute, madman tliat you are !" cried 
 Gustavus: and he made a movement as if to wind 
 his arms about Elverstone's form and carry him 
 thence by force. 
 
 "No, no! Keep olT!" literally shrieked forth 
 the miser. "I go only with what I possess about 
 me ! Good heavens ! to be thrown as a beggar 
 upon the world 1 No ! no 1" 
 
 Half wild with agony of terror on account of 
 the storm, and with the dread of being torn away 
 from the treasures that were dearer to him than 
 even life itself, Elvcrstono completed his prepara- 
 tions with a remarkable celerity. His leathern 
 bags were filled — in another moment they were 
 slung upon a belt which he had got ready for the 
 purpose — and this belt he fastened round his 
 waist. Although but a few instants were wasted 
 in these additional proceedings, yet Gustavus 
 could scarcely restrain his impatience so far as to 
 allow the old man to complete them ; and he even 
 threatened to abandon him to his fate if 
 he did not at once follow him to the deck. 
 But still there was something more to do. 
 The miser had taken off his coat in order 
 to secure his treasru'e the more effectually about 
 his person ; and he now proceeded to resume that 
 garment 
 
 " Come quick, I say !" cried Gustavus : " or by 
 heaven I will leave you, insensate that you are !'' 
 
 " What ! and allow every one to see these bags 
 and suspect what they contain ?" querulously 
 cried the old man. " No, no !— by heaven I will 
 not do it ! See ! the coat is half on. There now 
 the other sleeve ! And now " 
 
 But here he was stopped short by a tremendous 
 shock which the ship sustained, — a shock more 
 powerful than any that it had yet experienced 
 during the three or four hours that the fearfnl
 
 110 AGSES : OE, B 
 
 tempest had lasted. Tbe miser was thrown Tio- 
 leDtly OTer the opeo chest from which he had been 
 takin; forth his gold ; while Gustavus waa sa 
 powerfulty hurled against the door-post of the 
 cabin, and thence on the floor itself, that he was 
 stunned. 
 
 For a few minutes did he thus remain in a state 
 of unconsciousness— from which on slowly awaken- 
 ing, he fancied that he was under the influence of 
 a dream. But a crowd of fearful recollections 
 soon trooped in unto his brain, rapid as the tem- 
 pest that was sweeping over the devoted ship- 
 rapid too as the gush of waters into her battered 
 hull ! The lantern was extinguished : Gustavus 
 was enveloped in total darkness; and springing to 
 his feet, he was about to rush towards the stairs, 
 when he bethought himself of the miser. He 
 groped about for the old man, and quickly found 
 him lying across the open chest. He was mo- 
 tionless ; and Gustavus muttered to himself, " He 
 
 Sut Elverstone groaned: the young midship- 
 man spoke to him hurriedly and excitedly ; and 
 the miser returned some answer, though feebly 
 and indistinctly : yet as he lived, the generous 
 Barrington seized him in bis arms. He bore him 
 up the stairs ; and scarcely had he reached the 
 deck with his burden, when the wild cries of 
 human voices mingled their last notes of agony 
 with the terrific chorus of the raging wind and 
 the roaring billows. 
 
 Some minutes elapsed before Gustavus Barring- 
 ton succeeded in completely comprehending his 
 present position : but after a hurried search all 
 over the deck— after calling forth many familiar 
 names and receiving no response— he found that 
 himself and the old miser were alone left in the 
 vessel. The boats were gone, except the one 
 which had been rendered useless by the violence 
 of the billow that stove it in ; and more than half 
 the hencoops, spars, and casks which but a short 
 time past encumbered the deck, were likewise 
 gone. The ship was lying motionless, with the 
 sea beating terrifically over its bows; so that 
 Gustavus knew that it must have got upon a rock 
 or a sank-bank — but he conjectured that it 
 ■was the latter. The departure from the devoted 
 Catharine Milbrd must have been effected 
 with all possible despatch— indeed -with the 
 wildest of haste on the part of crew and 
 passengers ; and it was no wonder if in the 
 confusion attending that awful moment, the 
 absence of himself and the old miser shotxld 
 not have been noticed. But as for the fate 
 of at least some portion of those who had 
 abandoned the ship, it was but too plainly and 
 awfully told by the agonizing cries that had 
 mingled their shrill piercing accents with the deep 
 bass of the ocean and the thnndering diapason of 
 tie storm. 
 
 But what was now to be done? There 
 w.is for an instant a feeling as if of thank- | 
 fulness in the he.'irt of Gostavus that he 
 should have been delayed by the old miser 
 in the cabin ; for life still remained to him, 
 while he had only too mnch reason to be- 
 lieve that all who tad left the ship had found 
 a sepnlchre in the deep waters. Yes — life 
 remained unto himself; and where there 
 was life there was hope ! Gustavus resolved to 
 do nothing rashly, and yet to avoid if possible 
 falling into the other extreme by suffering thnnigh 
 
 I delay. The ship, as we have said, waa motion- 
 less as a bulk, though it quivered and vibrated 
 throughout its entire length as each rapidly aoc- 
 ceeding billow dashed with appalling din and fary 
 over its bows. Its forepa.-t was lifted up some- 
 what; and it heeled over a lii>tle on one side: but 
 the point which Gustavus had to judge of and to 
 speculate upon, was whether it were likely to hold 
 together until daylight. He knew the dawn was 
 not far distant; and if it were possible for himself 
 and his aged companion to remain on board the 
 wreck until light succeeded to the awful darkness 
 of this night, they might be rescued by some pass- 
 ing ship. 
 
 Bidding Elverstone remain where he was and 
 cling fast to a rope so as to avoid being washed 
 away by the sweeping billows, Gustavus descended 
 into tbe cabins to ascertain to what extent the 
 water had risen within them. He procured a 
 lantern, which he lighted ; and he continued his 
 investigations with mingled despatch and caution. 
 From all appearances by which he could judge, he 
 came to the conclusion that of the two desperate 
 alternatives it would be better to remain upon the 
 wreck than for himself and his aged companion to 
 trust themselves to a raft upon the seething, roar- 
 ing cauldron of the ocean. This decision he com- 
 municated to Elverstone : but the old man ap- 
 peared not to comprehend the words which the 
 youth uttered ; for, lying upon the deck and me- 
 chanically clutching fast to the rope which Gus- 
 tavus had £0 fixed as to protect him, he murmured 
 vaguely and in a semi-idiotic manner, " Yes— the 
 gold < 'tis all safe !" 
 
 * For a moment the high-minded Barrington waa 
 seized with a feeling of ineffable disgust for the 
 wretch who thus clung to his treasure where it 
 would have been sufficient to cling only to hia 
 life : but the youth had far more important sub- 
 jects for bis thoughts than to abandon his mind 
 to any particular reflections relative to so piteous 
 a wretch. He began to busy himself in prepara- 
 tions for the emergency which might arise at any 
 With bis own arms and his own un- 
 
 aided strength, he performed a task which in other 
 circumstances would have reqnired several 
 men to accomplish. Flinging off his jacket 
 that he might work all the more freely, he 
 got together spars and planks — he attached 
 them one to another with strong cordage — 
 and he lashed them to empty casks. He "was 
 careful in the first instance to commence his 
 labours on a part of the deck where the bulwarks 
 had been carried away, so that his raft might 
 be with the least degree of trouble committed 
 to the raring element at the first indication 
 of an awful crisis being at hand in respect to the 
 ship. 
 
 By the time the raft was Cnished, Gustavus 
 was so exhausted that he sank down upon 
 the deck, where he lay for some minutes 
 with energies completely prostrate. The .«pray 
 kept beating over him— until at length ho 
 aroused himself once more ; and again he 
 descended to the cabins. There he procured 
 a bottle of spirits ; he imbibed a larger 
 dram than ever in his life had hitherto passed 
 his lips ; and he proceeded to ponr some of 
 the exhilarating fluid down the throat of the 
 old miser, who appeared to have sunk into a fct. 
 less apathy of mind and a complete physical 
 numbness. The potent cordial infused life, and
 
 OE, BEADTT AKD PLEASUEE. 
 
 beat, and strength into Blrerstooe's frame; and 
 beooming completely conseious of his positioa once 
 more, he murmured, " Good jouth ! excellent 
 Gustarus! I knew you would not abandon 
 me !" 
 
 Young Barrington proceeded to inform the old 
 man of the preparations he had made for their 
 escape, if the moment of need should come and 
 compel them to leave the wreck ; and Elverstone 
 kept exclaiming, " Good youth ! excellent Gus- 
 tavus ! you shall have a portion of my gold. I 
 do not possess much — but you shall have the 
 full half— I mean the quarter of one of these 
 bag8 " 
 
 " Talk not of your gold !" ejaculated Oustavus. 
 " If you had to swim for your life, it would help 
 to sink you ; and the god of your existence would 
 thus become the demon to plunge you down into 
 the abyss ! Haste— rise— get upon the raft— and 
 let me fasten you to it : for at the first cracking 
 of the timbers— at the first warning sound— we 
 must in the twinkling of an eye commit ourselves 
 to the ocean !" 
 
 The wretched helpless old man suffered himself 
 to be guided by the youth who had already saved 
 his life more than once during this fearful night, 
 and who seemed to have his energies so completely 
 about him. Elverstone accordingly arose from 
 the spot where he had been crouching down upon 
 the deck in the safest place that Gustavus could 
 have deposited him in ; and clinging to hia young 
 companion, he advanced to the raft. On this he 
 seated himself ; and Gustavus prepared to attach 
 a cord round the old man's waist and then fasten 
 it to the ropes which held the spars and planks 
 together. 
 
 " For God's sake don't touch my gold ! don't 
 take it !" earnestly whispered the avaricious 
 wretch, while through the obscurity his eyes 
 were penetratingly fixed on the youth's counte- 
 nance as if in an agony of suspense to ascertain 
 what his real purpose might be. 
 
 But Gustavus was too indignant to make any 
 response : and yet instead of abandoning the old 
 wretch to his fate, as he might have been well 
 
 young man now felt that he had done as 
 much as mortal man could do on behalf of a 
 fellow-creature. 
 
 " Tou are a good youth," said Elverstone ; 
 " and — and — I will treat you well. Only save 
 me — for God's sake save me," he continued, with 
 drivelling childishness : " and you shall have your 
 fair share ' ' 
 
 " Instead of appealing thus to me," answered 
 Gustavns solemnly, "you should lift up your 
 prayers to Him whose name yon have just men- 
 tioned !" 
 
 " Yes, yes — I will pray," responded Elverstone ; 
 " but — but — I know not how. Teach me." 
 
 Gustavns was infinitely shocked at this 
 evidence of the deplorable religious ignorance 
 of that old man, — a man who in the wor- 
 ship which he had given undividedly unto 
 
 the Eternal. But quicldy conquering his feel- 
 ing of repugnance towards his aged com- 
 panion, the youth prayed aloud ; and Elverstone 
 followed him — but with a nervous tremulousness 
 of ftcccnts, as if he were a wretch proceeding to 
 
 the place of execution and in the almost desperate 
 condition of his guilty soul repeating the words 
 that flowed from the mouth of the chaplain. 
 
 At length daybreak began to appear in the 
 eastern horizon— at first slowly and fitfully ; for 
 the sombre storm-clouds hung heavily with their 
 dark gloomy curtainings upon the canopy of 
 heaven. Gustavus kept his eyes riveted upon 
 that point where the sun was struggling to pierce 
 with its rays the obscurity that remained from 
 night ; and gradually the gleam advanced — gradu- 
 ally it grew stronger and stronger, until the en- 
 tire prospect of the surrounding ocean was re. 
 vealed to the view of the youth and his aged 
 companion. Not a sail was to be seen, save the 
 canvass which hung to the yards of the wreck ; and 
 though Gustavus swept the ocean with a glass, and 
 carried his regards sorutinizingly all round the 
 horiaon, no hopeful sign could he discern. Nor 
 was there so much as a speck upon the sea to 
 permit the belief that any of the ill-fated crew 
 of the Catharine Millard still held existence in this 
 world ; and the generous- hearted youth shed tears 
 as he sadly murmured to himself, '^ Alas, they 
 have doubtless all perished !" 
 
 He again descended to the cabins, to procure 
 some refreshment : but he now found that the 
 water was much higher in the ship thau he could 
 have anticipated ; and moreover that there were 
 certain ominous sounds which made him fear that 
 she must soon go to pieces. In short, at about 
 an hour after daybreak Gustavus came to the con- 
 I elusion 'that it would be an act of madness to de- 
 I lay any longer the departure from the wreck ; for 
 I if the ship should suddenly heel over or break iu 
 I the midst, himself and his aged companion would 
 I inevitably be sucked down into the vortex, and per- 
 I haps crushed amongst the parting planks and beams. 
 j He therefore communicated his intention to Elver- 
 1 stone ; and having supplied himself with as much 
 j biscuit as he could find in the cabins, as well as 
 I with a small cask of fresh water, Gustavus pre- 
 pared to commit the raft to the ocean. This was 
 easily accomplished. Inasmuch as it had been 
 fashioned at a part of the deck where the bulwarks 
 had been torn away ; and as the ship itself heeled 
 somewhat over on one side, the slope gave an im- 
 petus to the raft the moment Gustavus cut the 
 cords which had hitherto retained it in a fixed 
 position. The proceeding was accomplished with 
 perfect safety; and the raft, launched upon the 
 troubled waters, with those two human beings 
 upon it, was borne away by the force of the tide 
 from the neighbourhood of the wreck. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 KINGSTON. 
 
 had not been long seated on the raft 
 with his aged companion before the apprehensiou 
 began to seize upon him that its construction was 
 not sufiiciently solid to enable it to resist the vio- 
 lence of the waves. It was tossed up and down, 
 hither and thither— now being elevated high upon 
 the summit of a mighty wave — then lieing plunged 
 deep down into a yawning abyss. The cords were 
 so strained at one moment that they became per-
 
 K, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 ccptibly loose at another ; and if the raft 
 went to pieces there was the danger of those 
 who were upon it being crushed by the Bub- 
 sef|uent collision of the planks. Besides, Gua- 
 tavus knew that Elverstone had not the power 
 or energy to cling long with his arms to a 
 single plank, it by the rupture of the raft 
 the cordage which retained him should be broken 
 also. 
 
 Every time the youth was borne by the raft to 
 the top of a billow, he swept his straining eyes 
 aroimd : but naught could he see except the wreck 
 so lately quitted, the wide expanse of the swelling 
 ocean, and the sombre clouds above. Yes — there 
 were birds now and then winging their flight 
 through the air, dipping their wide-spread wings 
 in the foaming crests of the waves, and ever and 
 anon circling above the raft as if almost prepared 
 to swoop upon those while living, whom they 
 doubtless expected presently to have as their prey 
 when dead. The youth's heart sank within him : 
 he dared not non think of the cousin whom he 
 luved eo tenderly, and of his venerable grandsire, 
 from whom nearly two years back he had parted 
 in England : but still their images kept presenting 
 themselves to his view — and he recollected how 
 earnestly they had reasoned against his resolve of 
 goin- to sea when first in the glow of youthful 
 confidence he had vowed that he would eat the 
 bread of his own industry and carve out a career 
 for himself. 
 
 Presently the catastrophe which young Barring- 
 ton had for some time dreaded, took place, by the 
 sudden snapping of the cords at one extremity of 
 the raft ; and a shriek of agony pealed forth from 
 the lips of the old miser : for two of the planks, 
 when parting and then quickly and violently 
 coming together again, bad crushed one of his 
 legs between them. At the imminent peril of 
 being swept altogether off the raft, or of expe- 
 riencing a similar injury, the generous. hearted 
 Gustavus lost no time in assisting his aged com- 
 panion : and matters were now every instant 
 getting worse and worse. The tossing of the 
 planks which were disunited at one end, speedily 
 produced a similar severance at the other; and 
 tuen a wild shriek rang over the ocean — for Elver- 
 stone, being hurled from the plank to which he 
 vainly strove to cling, fell hack into the boiling 
 billows. Ko possible assistance could Gustavus 
 render him : he had disappeared from the view ; 
 and the youth, cUnging to the remnant of the 
 raft, was being borne rapidly away by some cur- 
 rent from the scene of the catastrophe. Again a 
 cry rang in his ears : he looked back — and there 
 lor an instant he caught a glimpse of the miser 
 rising above the water as fa; as his waist, just as 
 if he had been propelled straight upward by some 
 power from below. And Oh ! what a hideous 
 ghastly countenance it was of which the youth 
 caught that one last transient glimpse ; for the 
 form of the drowning man sank straight down 
 again ; and though Gustavus continued to look 
 for some time with an agony of suspense in 
 the same direction, he beheld not the miser 
 again rise from the turbulent waters that were 
 engulfing him. 
 
 The incident completed the causes for deep de- 
 spondency on the part of Gustavus Barrington. 
 Iiittle as he would have valued the companionship 
 <jf such a man as Elverstone in the great world 
 
 where there were other associates to select, 
 — yet there, on the bosom of th.at wide sea, 
 the companionship of any human creature was 
 to be desired in preference to the awful 
 and stupendous solitude in which the youth 
 now found himself. Hope was utterly aban- 
 doning him. His energies had been so over- 
 taxed during so many hoiurs in the past night, 
 that a reaction was now rapidly setting in — 
 a prostration alike of mind and body ; so that 
 he began to feel as if it were useless to cling 
 any longer to that plank, and as if he might 
 as well glide off it, and put a speedy end to his 
 anguish and his despair. But no ! — to do this 
 were suicidal ; and he said within fcimself, " It is 
 my duty to cling as long as possible to that life 
 which God has given me !'' 
 
 The pious reflection cheered him. ; and in a few 
 moments this cheerfulness was changed into a 
 sudden joy as he caught a glimpse of something 
 which he fancied was a sail in the distance. It 
 was from the summit of a billow that he thus be- 
 held it : then down into the trough of the sea 
 went the remnant of the raft to which he was 
 clinging :— up the ascent it laboured : the emi- 
 nence of a wave again tossed it amidst its foam 
 and dashing spray ; but, O joy ! there was indeed 
 a sail in the horizon ! 
 
 The experienced eye of Gustavus Barrington 
 soon convinced him that the vessel to which the 
 sail belonged was proceeding in a direction calcu- 
 lated to afford him every chance of being per- 
 ceived and saved, although he knew that some 
 considerable time must yet elapse before that 
 hope could be realized. Nevertheless, all his ener- 
 gies, mental and physical, were again resuscitated : 
 he clung with tenacity to those planks which 
 floated between himself and utter destruction ; 
 and from the depths of his soul the sincerest 
 prayers went up to heaven, beseeching that he 
 might not be .disappointed. In due time he was 
 enabled to discern that it was a square-rigged ship 
 of large size ; and a little while afterwards he 
 came to the conviction that it was a man-of-war 
 — for his eye could trace two dotted rows of port- 
 boles. And now, when nearer still, he began 
 waving his kerchief; every time the remnant of 
 the raft bore him to the summit of the billows, 
 he raised his signal as high as his arm could 
 stretch out above his head ; and hope grew 
 stronger and stronger in his breast. 
 
 Once, when floating on the top of one of those 
 mighty rolling waves, the planks turned in such 
 a way that the wreck, which was at a consider- 
 able distance, met his view : but while his eyes 
 were still fixed upon it, it suddenly heeled over 
 and sank in deep water. It seemed as if it were 
 destined that the adventurous youth should be- 
 hold the very last of the ill-fated ship in which 
 he had taien the initiative of his profession, and 
 which, young though he were, had already af- 
 forded him such terrible experiences of the perils 
 and horrors which belong to a nautical career. 
 
 From the direction where the Catharine Millard 
 had gone down, the youth's eyes were again 
 turned towards the superb ship in the distance : 
 his judgment was correct — it was a large two- 
 decker, carrying the English flag. And now, O joy 
 again ! his signal was answered. The ship's course 
 was slightly altered ; and he knew that it was for 
 bis sake. At length he beheld a speck upon the
 
 AONES; OE, BEAUTY AND PLEASURS. 
 
 llS 
 
 lit ^^^^xilL 
 
 surface of the sea betvfem himself and that man- 
 ot'.war : it was the boat that was coming to his 
 assistance. His energies maintained him until 
 that boat was close up with him : he was taken on 
 board— a few fervid words of gratitude escaped 
 bis lips — and he fainted. 
 
 When he returned to consciousness, he was 
 being lifted from the boat up the high towering 
 side of that floating castle ; and he was at once 
 borne to a comfortable berth. Every attention 
 was shown him ; and when he gave particulars of 
 the shipwreck, boats were despatched in every 
 direction in the hope of picking up some of the 
 crew of the ill-fated Catharine Millard. But 
 none were found ; and thus every circumstance 
 eeemed to ratify the dread idea which young Bar- 
 riogton had from the first formed— namely, that 
 they bad all been engulfed in the depths of the 
 
 ngry ( 
 
 the West 
 
 India Islands, to which station it belonged ; and 
 therefore it was not inconvenient for the Captaia 
 to run to Kingston in Jamaica, to land Gustaviis 
 there. He had two motives in begging to be 
 taken to that destination. In the first place, it 
 was the destination of the Catharine Millard ; and 
 if any of the crew had by a chance escaped, they 
 would find their way thither. In the second place, 
 there was at Kingston a correspondent of the firm 
 to which the ill-fated vessel had belonged ; and 
 thtough that gentleman's agency Gustavus hoped 
 to be enabled to obtain a berth in some ship to 
 England. We should add that during the short 
 time that he was on board the British man-of-war, 
 his gentlemanly bearing — his intellectual yet un- 
 pretending discourse— the sympathy created by his 
 tale— and the admiration which his heroic conduct 
 inspired (for of this last there was sufficient evi- 
 dence in the manner in which he had been found) 
 won for bim the esteem sod friendship of all the
 
 lU 
 
 AG5ES; OB, BBAtTTT 
 
 ofiBceis. As ho had lost eTerjthiog by the ship- 
 wreck, they generously made a subscription of fifty 
 guineas, which they presented to him in a manner 
 alike so delicate and friendly that he could not pos- 
 sibly decline that tribute of their good feeling. 
 When he parted from them, he was accompanied 
 by their best wishes ; and the Captain furnished 
 him with a certificate in proof of the circumstance* 
 under which he had been picked up, so that the 
 correspondent of the London firm of Millard and 
 Co. might not entertain any doubt as to the truth 
 of the narrative which he had to tell. 
 
 It wag at about fire o'clock in the evening on 
 the fourth day after he had been so providentially 
 rescued from the perils of a watery grave, that 
 Gustavus Barrington was landed from the ship-of' 
 war at Kingston. He speedily found the com- 
 mercial establishment of Mr. Finnock : but this 
 merchant had gone to his country-house, which 
 was about three miles off. Gustavus deemed it 
 his duty to report with the least possible delay the 
 loss of the Catharine Millard ; and he therefore ob- 
 tained a vehicle to take him to Mr. Finnock's re- 
 sidence. 
 
 On arriving there, he was at once conducted 
 into an apartment, where an elderly gentleman 
 and a young female were seated at a table covered 
 with wines and fruits. The elderly gentleman 
 was iounging at an open window near to which 
 the table was drawn ; and he was smoking a 
 cigar. There was not a very strong light in the 
 room ; and the glance which Gustavus threw upon 
 the young female, showed him that she had a very 
 dusky complexion, as if she were a quadroon or 
 mulatto. 
 
 Grustavus was well dressed, in a suit of plain 
 clothes which had been furnished him by one of 
 the young ofiicers on board the English ahip-of- 
 war ; and thus his gentlemanly bearing was at 
 once a passport to a favourable reception. Mr. 
 Finnock— who in business hours was precise, re- 
 served, and active — in his leisure hours was good- 
 humoured, heritable, and indolent. He bade his 
 visitor be seated, and at once helped Lim to wine 
 before having learnt anything beyond his name, 
 which the domestic had announced. Gustavus 
 however soon entered into particulars by describ- 
 ing who Ue was, explaining the total loss of the 
 Catharine Millard, and giving a few hastily- 
 sketched details of his own miraculous escape. 
 He then produced the certificate furnished him by 
 the Captain of the British man-of-war, and with 
 whose handwriting Mr. Finnock happened to be 
 acquainted. 
 
 While the merchant was occupied in perusing 
 that certificate, Gustavus, in looking round the 
 apartment, again settled his eyes for an instant 
 upon the young female, whose presence indeed he 
 had almost forgotten while telling his tale to Mr. 
 Finnock. For this young female was engaged in 
 some light needle-work at the time Barrington 
 entered ; and having just glanced at him for a 
 moment, her eyes sank upon the work again. She 
 spoke not a syllable ; and when Gustavus now 
 once more looked at her, she was still engaged 
 with her needle as attentively as before. He 
 cotdd not very well distinguish her features, in 
 consequence of the light and the way in which 
 her bead was bent forward : but a glance at 
 her figure coavayed the impiession that the light 
 
 dress which she wore defined a well-modelled 
 shape. 
 
 " Nothing can be more regular, Mr. Barring- 
 ton," said the merchant, " than this guarantee of 
 the truth of your narrative. The Captain of the 
 British ship, I observe, is careful in noting that a 
 barrel attached to the planks which bore you, had 
 the letters C. M. upon it ; and C. M.," ho added 
 with a smile, " stands for Catharine Millard. The 
 poor ship is gone ; and the underwriters in Eng- 
 land will suffer. The circumstance is an unfortu- 
 nate one for you, yoang gentleman : but still you 
 must be thankful that you have escaped with your 
 life. I must see what is best to be dons for you. 
 Meanwhile take some wine— help yourself to fruit 
 —here are choice cigars— and now tell me more at 
 length the particulars of your marvellous escape." 
 Gustavus accepted the hospitable invitations to 
 address himself to the refreshments ; but he hesi- 
 tated to light a cigar, on the ground "that it 
 might be disagreeable to the young lady." 
 
 " Oh, not at all, I can assure you," she said, 
 now speaking for the first time since Gustavus had 
 entered the room : and the richnesa of her voice, 
 which seemed full of a golden harmony, flowed 
 upon bi« ear with an effect that was for an instant 
 startling and then enrapturing. 
 
 It waa startling, because, though soft and low, 
 it nevertheless had that fulness of melody which 
 we have just endeavoured to illustrate by the 
 sound of the most precious metal j and Gustavus 
 was astonished that such a delicious voice, with 
 such purity of accent and such lady-like intona- 
 tion, should have emanated from the lips of a 
 mulatto whose countenance he was more than half 
 prepared to find of a repulsive ugliness. She 
 raised that countenance at the same time that she 
 spoke- but only for an instant. Tet those were 
 assuredly fine large lustrous black eyes which 
 flung their looks upon Gustavus; and it struck 
 bim that she was not altogether so very ugly, 
 though be still could not rightly distinguish her 
 features. 
 
 " Ob, Emily does not care about smoke," ex- 
 claimed Mr. Finnock. " She is my niece, Mr. 
 Barrington — a good girl enough — and as I am an 
 old bachelor, she superintends my household. I 
 ought perhaps to have introduced you. How- 
 ever, better late than never. Mr. Barrington— 
 Miss Finnock." 
 
 Gustavus bowed— the young laiif slightly in- 
 clined her head ; and then the merchant repeated 
 his demand for a detailed account of the youth's 
 escape. Gustavus commenced the tale ; and in 
 order to explain how it happened that he was left 
 on board the ship when it was abandoned by the 
 Captain, the crew, and the passengers, he waa 
 compelled to recite the episode connected with the 
 old miser Elverstone. This episode his modesty 
 would naturally have induced him to suppress, or 
 at least to cut very short, inasmuch as he could 
 not be otherwise than aware that in its main fea- 
 tures it spoke most favourably for his own conduct. 
 As he had once commenced he was compelled to 
 go on; and Mr. Finnock put so many leading 
 questions that every detail was at length elicited. 
 Warm were the praises bestowed by Mr. Finnock ; 
 and as Gustavus happened to glance towards Miss 
 Emily, he observed that the work had fallen upon 
 her iap ; and her large black eyes were iUed ear-
 
 AOSE3 ; OK, BEAtJIT AND PLEA3UEE. 
 
 115 
 
 r.e&tly upon him as if expressive of the deepest 
 interest in bis recital. 
 
 Those ejes were instanianeously withdrawn — 
 the work was snatched up again— the duskj coun* 
 tenance was bent down orer it ; and all this took 
 place 60 suddenly that Gustavus was fur a few 
 instants bewildered whether the bright eyes had 
 really been filed upon him at all, or whether it 
 were not a delusion on his own part. But again 
 his looks wandered slowly over the shape which 
 the light dress defined ; and he became convinced 
 that it was one of no ordinary symmetry that he 
 was thus regarding. A fine bust and a slender 
 waist were undoubtedly possessed by Emily Pia* 
 nock : and now, as the looks of Guatavus were 
 bent lower, they settled upon a foot of the most 
 exquisite shapeliness which, together with a por* 
 tion of a well-rounded ankle, peeped forth from 
 beneath the skirt of that dress. The well-made 
 shoe and the well-fitting silken hose delineated 
 the modelling of that foot and ankle; and Gus- 
 tavus was now beginning to think that Emily 
 Picnock must be a little more worthy of his at- 
 tention than he had at first supposed. But still 
 he could form no positive idea of the outlines of 
 her profile or the general contours of her linea- 
 ments. 
 
 "Well, Mr. BarringtOD," said Mr. Pinnock, 
 •* you have suffered great hardships, and you have 
 displayed a remarkable courage throughout a most 
 painful ordeal. It would be my duty in any case, 
 for the sake of my friends the ilillards in London, 
 to show every attention to one who has suffered 
 while engaged in their service : but in the present 
 instance there is something more than mere duty 
 
 — it is with an unfeigned pleasure However, I 
 
 hate long rhodomontading speeches ; and there- 
 fore to come to the point at once, you must make 
 this house your home for as long as you like, and 
 I will do all I can to further your views here- 
 after." 
 
 " I will certainly accept your kind hospitality, 
 Mr. Pinnock," replied Gustavus, " until through 
 your generous assistance I may obtain a berth in 
 another ship " 
 
 " Well, well," interrupted {he merchant, " we 
 shall see all about that. Emily, my dear, Mr. 
 Barrington is our guest : go and make all requi- 
 site arrangements." 
 
 Emily at once rose from her seat : but as she 
 turned abruptly round at the same instant to de- 
 posit her work in the drawer of a little side-table, 
 Gustavus again failed to catch a distinct view of 
 ber features : and he could not help thinking 
 within himself, " She mtist be ugly after all ! Poor 
 girl, she knows it, and she studies to conceal her 
 countenance as much as possible from the gaze of 
 a stranger !" 
 
 But while making these reflections, the youth 
 was following Miss Pinnock with his eyes as she 
 advanced towards the door ; and if bis mind were 
 again filled with painful misgiTiogs in respect to 
 her coantenance, it at least entertained no doubt 
 •oncernbg the admirable symmetry of her form. 
 She was tall and upright ; but this reed-like 
 •traightness was utterly apart from stiffness. On 
 the contrary, there was an elegant ease and grace- 
 ful flexibility of the entire figure, as she walked, 
 which gave additional charms to the excellence of 
 that symmetry. She bad broad shoulders, but a 
 
 slender waist ; and the sweeping length of her limbs 
 indicated their flowing outlines beneath the light 
 dress which she wore : for this dress was scanty 
 enough on account of the heat of that West In- 
 dian climate. The neck was long and arching: 
 the head was admirably poised upon it ; and luxu- 
 riant masses of coal-black hair descended upon 
 the finely sloping shoulders. The skirt of the 
 dress being rather short, not merely revealed the 
 beautifully- shaped feet and ankles, but for a mo- 
 ment afforded a glimpse of a leg that was modelled 
 to the perfect symmetry of a statue. The next 
 instant the door closed behind Miss Pinnock : but 
 she disappeared without once turning her face 
 towards the table— so that Gustavus found him- 
 self heaving a sigh as he inwardly thought, 
 " What a pity it is that so splendid a figure should 
 be so ill-matched with an ugly face ! — for ugly I 
 am convinced she is /" 
 
 Mr. Pinnock lighted another cigar — compelled 
 his young guest to follow his example — passed 
 round the wine — and continued to descant upon 
 the loss of the Catharine Millard, or to ask fresh 
 questions upon the subject. Another hour thus 
 went by: but Emily returned not to tho r-^om. 
 Gustavua was wishing that she would, though he 
 could not rightly understand why — unless it were 
 that he experienced the utmost curiosity to have 
 a full view of her countenance. At length Mr. 
 Pinnock rose from the table, and offered to con- 
 duct the youth to the chamber which had by this 
 time been prepared for him. It was therefore 
 evident that Miss Emily had retired for the night; 
 and there was something that bordered upon a 
 feeling of disappointment in the youth's mind 
 that she did not reappear, oven if only for a few 
 instants. 
 
 "I am going into Kingston early in the morn- 
 ing," said Mr. Pinnock, as he shook hands with 
 Gustavus at the door of the chamber to which he 
 conducted him; "and as you will no doubt like to 
 look over the town and the shipping, you can ac- 
 company me. Breakfast will be served at about 
 half -past eight o'clock." 
 
 Young Barrington retired to rest ; and he soon 
 fell asleep to dream of shipwrecks, the old miser 
 and his gold, his cousin Winifred, his grand- 
 father in Whitecross Street prison, and Bmily 
 Pinnock, whom his fancy depicted with the most 
 elegant of figures and the ugliest of faces. His 
 imagination was at first erratic in these visions : 
 but it presently began to settle itself more and 
 more on the last-mentioned object. He dreamt 
 that he was entering the room where he had 
 passed the evening with Mr. Pinnock and his 
 niece — and that on crossing the threshold, he per- 
 ceived the latter standing at a casement with her 
 back towards him. He fancied that he stood to 
 admire that shape in which elegance of symmetry, 
 gracefulness of carriage, and youthful elasticity 
 blended with a voluptuous richness of contours. 
 He thought that after a little while he advanced 
 farther into the room— that the sounds of his foot- 
 steps fell upon Miss Emily's ears — and that with a 
 sudden start she turned round towards him. And 
 now he fancied that he obtained a full view of her 
 countenance ; and a sensation of pain, sorrow, and 
 disgust seized upon him — for his imagination de- 
 picted that face as being deeply scarred with tha 
 ravages of the small-pox, the marks looking all tho
 
 u^ 
 
 AONBS; OE, BEAUII ASD PLEASUEE. 
 
 more hideous on account of their hue being dif. 
 ferent from the duskiness of her quadroon com. 
 plexion. He thought too that a broad flat nose, 
 great coarse thick lips, and a set of loathsomely 
 decayed teeth, completed the picture of this ugli- 
 ness, and rendered it absolutely revolting. It is 
 true that in imagination he again beheld a remark- 
 ably fine pair of large lustrous black eyes : but it 
 appeared to him that instead of in the slightest 
 degree redeeming the intense ugliness of the face, 
 they only threw it into a more hideous relief by 
 the strength of contrast and by the light which 
 those luminous eyes shed upon all the features. 
 
 Such was the dream of Gustavus; and so strong 
 an impression did it make upon his mind, that 
 when he awoke in the morning he felt convinced 
 that though it were, but a vision, it had depicted 
 the reality so far as Emily Pinnock was concerned, 
 lie therefore thought within himself that he must 
 after all have attained a better view of her face 
 the preceding evening than he could possibly re- 
 collect to have done— and that the dream had re- 
 peated, but in a more vivid manner, the impression 
 that was made upon him at the time. Still he 
 wondered that on retiring to rest he had not been 
 enabled to form a better idea of Miss Pinnock's 
 lineaments than be had done; and thus, though 
 there was some little perplexity in his brain, he 
 had no doubt with regard to the main prominent 
 fact, that the merchant's niece was in reality pos- 
 sessed of a very superb figure, endowed with all 
 the softest graces and the most voluptuous charms, 
 but that she was unfortunately cursed with a re- 
 volting ugliness of countenance. 
 
 Having performed his toilet, he descended to 
 the apartment where he had spent the preceding 
 evening, and where he now expected to have all 
 his ideas in respect to Emily completely confirmed 
 by meeting her there. But he found Mr. Pin- 
 nock only in the room ; and this gentleman wel- 
 ;omed him with the most cordial hospitality. 
 Tub table was spread with all kinds of tempting 
 viands, near the open window; and the merchant, 
 at once sitting down, bade his guest be seated also. 
 Gustavus flung a glance over the table ; and he 
 perceived that the arrangements were only made 
 for two persons : it was therefore evident that 
 Miss Emily was not to join them at the morning 
 
 " My niece," said Mr. Pinnock, in the course of 
 conversation, " is an early riser, and she usually 
 takes her breakfast long before I do. She gets 
 out for a ramble before the heat of the day sets in 
 —and besides, my young friend, you must not 
 think it any ill compliment to you that she is not 
 here to preside at the breakfast-table after the 
 fashion of Old England : but she is very bashful 
 — we live a retired sort of life— and she sees few 
 strangers." 
 
 Gustavus expressed the hope that his presence 
 at Mr. Pinnock's abode might in no sense cause 
 any embarrassment; and he thought it only proper 
 to add that while in one sense he was pleased to 
 find Miss Pinnock did not adopt any formalities 
 on his account, yet that the absence of the lady of 
 the house from the table must necessarily always 
 bo a source of regret to those who were partaking 
 of its hospitalities. 
 
 " Emily is a good girl," said Mr. Pinnock ; 
 "and when you come to know ber better, you will 
 
 like her. I daresay that when her bashfulness 
 wears off in respect to yourself — you being a 
 stranger — you will become very good friends to- 
 gether : for I can tell you candidly that I don't 
 mean to part with you in a hurry— I shall endea- 
 vour to indemnify you by two or three weeks of 
 rest and recreation for the hardships and suffer- 
 ings you have endured." 
 
 Having thus spoken in a benevolent and good- 
 humoured manner, Mr. Pinnock jumped up from 
 table: for a neat little chaise bad just driven 
 round to the front of the residence. Gustavus 
 followed the merchant from the house ; and with- 
 out seeing anything of Emily, he took his seat in 
 the vehicle. Kingston was soon reached ; the 
 merchant and the youth alighted at the door of 
 the former gentleman's business-establishment j 
 and they entered the counting-house. 
 
 " Now, my young friend," said Mr. Pinnock, 
 " before you go out to amuse yourself, you and I 
 have a little business to transact together. Too 
 have lost everything by the shipwreck — and there- 
 fore you are in want of everything. I am going 
 to write you a cheque— I shan't charge it to Mil- 
 lard and Co.— it is simply a matter betwixt you 
 and me — and when you are a rich man," added 
 Mr. Pinnock with a good-natured laugh, "jou 
 shall repay me— and not before." 
 
 He was accustomed, in those moods when re- 
 laxing from the severer considerations of business, 
 to speak at times with great volubility ; and that 
 speech had been made with such rapidity that 
 Gustavus could not possibly edge in a word. He 
 however at length found an opportunity to explain 
 that he was in no want of funds ; and he ac- 
 quainted Mr. Pinnock with the handsome conduct 
 of the officers on board the ship-of-war, as well as 
 the delicate manner in which the gift had been 
 bestowed upon him. 
 
 "Very well, then," said the merchant, "you 
 require no money at present : but remouiber 
 that when you do, I shall be most happy to act as 
 your banker. Now go and see whatsoever is 
 worth seeing. If you find your way home to Mount 
 Pleasant— which is the name of my suburban resi- 
 dence—before I am ready to return, well and 
 good : but if not, the chaise will be here at four 
 o'clock, and you can accompany me." 
 
 Gustavus thanked the kind-hearted merchant 
 for all the favours that he was receiving at his 
 hands; and he issued forth from the counting, 
 house. He wandered about for some two or three 
 hours, amusing himself by the inspection of all 
 that was worth seeing in the capital of Jamaica: but 
 as it is not the purpose of this story to digress into 
 topographical descriptions, we shall not pause to 
 depict the leading features of Kingston. 
 
 After a while Gustavus began to think that it 
 would be as well if he commenced giving his 
 orders and making his purchases for the recon- 
 struction of his wardrobe. He accordingly visited 
 several shops, buying shirts, hose, and handker- 
 chiefs at one — ordering clothes at another— boots 
 and shoes at a third. Toilet necessaries were not 
 forgotten ; and finally young Barrington entered 
 a linen-draper's repository to buy gloves, which he 
 had hitherto forgotten. He was standing at the 
 counter, paying for the articles he had purchased, 
 when he beheld a well-dressed young lady stop for 
 an instant at the window and fix her eyes upon
 
 A(JH1!9; 
 
 ASD PLBASCEB. 
 
 117 
 
 FOme of the gooas there displayed. Sho wao of 
 dark complexion ; but though the duskiness of her 
 skin was that of the olive hue, it had none of the 
 disagreeable sallowness which usually blends so 
 damagingly with the deep tint of the brunette. 
 She was singularly beautiful : her profile, deli- 
 cately aquiline, was perfection itself ; and there 
 was a certain haughtiness :n the expression of her 
 exquisitely formed mouth. The lips were of the 
 richest red— the upper one slightly fuller than the 
 lower; and as they were apart at the moment, 
 they afforded a glimpse of teeth of ivory white- 
 ness. The eyes were large, luminous, and remark- 
 ably handsome ; their ebon fringes, though long 
 and thick, could not curtain the brilliancy of the 
 rays which those orbs shot forth. It was only for 
 a few instants that this young lady — whose age 
 appeared to be about nineteen or twenty — lingered 
 at the window of the linendraper's shop ; and then 
 she was gone. 
 
 Gustavus Barrington was much struck by that 
 exceedingly handsome countenance of which he 
 had thus caught but a transient glimpse,— yet a 
 glimpse sufficient to leave upon his mind the full 
 impression of its extraordinary beauty. He has- 
 tily gathered up the change which lay upon the 
 counter, and left the shop somewhat precipitately ; 
 for he longed to obtain another view of that young 
 ladv and satisfy himself whether the beauty of 
 her shape corresponded with that of her features. 
 He sped along the street— he overtook and passed 
 several young ladies of a dusky complexion— but 
 not one proved to be the cynosure whom he sought. 
 He did not remember how she was dressed— though 
 the impression made upon his mind at the moment 
 be had caught the first glimpse of her at the I 
 shop-window, was that her apparel was indicative 
 S ^oniihtv and taste. He beheld several ladies 
 whose raiment had these characteristics : he has- i 
 tened after them— passed— and looked round when | 
 he might do so without rudeness: hut still he dis- ! 
 covered not the object of his interest. 
 
 •*She is marvellously handsome I" he said to 
 himself, as he at length desisted from his vain 
 search— and it was with a feeling of disappoint, 
 ment that he did 30. "If she possess a figure as 
 fine as Emily Pinnock's, she must be the most 
 splendid woman in creation, notwithstanding the 
 duskiness of her complexion. Ah ! if Emily her- 
 self were only blest with such a countenance, she 
 would not be so anxious to hide it with what her 
 uncle in his fondness terms her bashfulness !" 
 
 Qustavus continued to roam about Kingston, 
 endeavouring to persuade himself that there were 
 plenty of objects of interest yet to contemplate- 
 though it was in reality with the secret hope of 
 again encountering the possessor of the handsome 
 face which he had s?en through the shop-window. 
 He did not for an instant imagine that he was in 
 reality already enamoured of that countenance: 
 he believed that it was mere curiosity; for he fan- 
 
 cied that he never could 1 
 
 any on 
 
 nuch as 
 
 he loved his cousin Winifred. But here we may 
 as well observe that when the two cousins had 
 parted in EcgUnd nearly a couple of years back, 
 there had been no avowal of a tender attachment 
 between them ; and yet when they had embraced 
 over and over again, they had both felt that there 
 was Bomelhing in their hearts to which they 
 longed to give utterance with their lips 
 
 feeling which they yearned to shap« in langmago : 
 but yet they had not done so ! They were then so 
 young!— and even in the midst of their intense 
 grief there was diffidency and bashfulness. They 
 had therefore parted without forming any verbal 
 engagement, and yet with some kind of sympa- 
 thetic intuitive feeling that they loved each other 
 and were bound by ties of a stronger and more 
 tender character than those of mere kinship. And 
 thus, while voyaging upon the wild ocean, Gus- 
 tavus had always thought of Winnie as a being 
 dearer to him than a cousin only, though he had 
 never so far settled his reflections as to give way 
 to such serious deliberation on the point as to say 
 within himself, " Winifred will some day become 
 my wife !" 
 
 We have recorded these few little explanalions 
 for the purpose of showing that although Qus- 
 tavus dearly loved his cousin Winifred, and had 
 constantly thoug'it of her since the painful mo- 
 of their separation, yet that he had never 
 come to a conclusion so pointed and so matter-of- 
 fact as to look upon himself as her future hus- 
 band. It was an indefinite, unstudied, and un- 
 analysed feeling that he entertained towards her : 
 and thus while now thinking of the handsome 
 mulatto countenance which bad caught his view 
 through the linendraper's shop-window, it did not 
 for a moment strike bim.that ho was entert:iinin^ 
 thought at all traitorous or perfidious towards 
 bis absent cousin Winnie. Yet that countenance 
 as now deeply impressed upon his mind : and he 
 lught himself frequently reiterating the wish, 
 Ob, it Emily Pinnock, with her splendid figure 
 3ly possessed that beautiful face !"' 
 At length Gustavas was warned by a reference 
 to his watch — which was amongst the articles be 
 had been purchasing — that it was time to rejoin 
 Mr. Pinnock at his counting-house. Thither he 
 accordingly repaired : a few minutes afterwards the 
 chaise was at the door ; and they took their seats 
 in the vehicle. Mr. Pinnock, who bad been all 
 sedateness and seriousness during the hours of 
 business, now resumed his natural hilarity and good 
 temper as easily as if it were a different garment 
 that he was putting on. He chatted blithely- 
 pointed out various aspects of interest as they 
 passed along — and vowed that he had an excellent 
 appetite for the dinner which they should find 
 ready to be served up on their arrival at Mount 
 Pleasant. But before they reached their destina- 
 tion a little incident occurred which we must men- 
 
 As there was plenty of time until the dinner- 
 hour, Mr. Pinnock had driven out of the direct 
 road, and made a circuit in order to show Gus- 
 tavus the boundary of the estate which he pos- 
 sessed. In one part the road wound for a space 
 near the sea-sbore ; and it was at a point where the 
 route turned inland again, that the chaise was passed 
 by an individual who was on foot, walking slowly 
 in the contrary direction. So far as Qustavus 
 could judge of him, he was a middle-aged man, 
 with grey hair— tall and thin— dressed slovenly, and 
 even shabbily. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Mr. Hargrave," said Mr. 
 Pinnock, as the chaise swept round the corner. 
 
 The individual thus spoken to, merely made a 
 sign of recognition, which was more curt than 
 courteous : and he continued 1 
 
 some I courteous 
 
 way.
 
 118 
 
 AOKES; OB, BEilTTT AJTD PLEASCEB. 
 
 1 „ 
 
 "1 have shown you maDj objects of interest 
 which, as artists would say, belong to nature or to 
 still life," answered Mr. Pinnock : " but now you 
 bare just seen a human peculiarity." 
 
 " You called him Mr. Hargrave, I think f " said 
 young Barrington. 
 
 " Yes— that is the name by which he is known 
 in these parts," replied the merchant ; " though I 
 am euro I cannot tell you how it was ever dis- 
 covered — for he never opens his lips to speak to a 
 8f)ul. Ah ! perhaps when he took the little cottage 
 yonder, he must have given a name to the owner ? 
 Of course he must !— that is how it transpired. It 
 never slruok me before!"— and the worthy mer- 
 chant looked as if he were highly pleased at the 
 discovery he had just made. 
 
 " But who is Mr. Hargrave p" inquired Bar- 
 rington, becoming interested; for it was evident 
 there was some degree of mystery attached to that 
 individual. 
 
 'To speak positively," rejoined Mr. Pinnock, 
 
 one knows for certain ; but if 1 may hazard a 
 conjecture, he is some poor crack-brained gentle- 
 man whose reason has been unsettled by misfor- 
 tunes—I will not be so uncharitable as to suggest 
 the probability of crimes." 
 
 " How long has he been living in this neigh- 
 bourhood p' asked Gustavus. 
 
 "Some two or three years," was the merchant's 
 response. " I think I have heard he came from 
 New Orleans : but I scarcely take him to be a 
 Yankee by birth— though I'm sure I know not 
 why I should say so. Our intercourse has never 
 eitendod any further than the slight exchange of 
 civilities which you have just seen pass between 
 
 "Or rather, I should say," interrupted Gus- 
 tavus, "a civility on your part and an uncouth 
 curtness on his." 
 
 " Well, well, it may be so," said the good- 
 natured merchant: "but as he is unmistakably 
 wrong in the upper storey, we must make allow- 
 ances for him. He is a strange being, ^o one 
 seems to know kow he lives ; for according to all 
 report he never receives any remittances through 
 any agent in Kingston — and yet from all I hear, 
 he honourably pays his way and owes no one a 
 shilling. But then his expenses are trivial enough : 
 they are next to nothing ; for he lives by himself 
 in a hermit-like fashion — with an old deaf and 
 dumb nigger, who inhabits a neighbouring but, to 
 do what is requisite in the shape of his household 
 affairs." 
 
 "X»u are describing to me a singular character," 
 observed Gustavus. 
 
 "Yes — but I ought to add," said Mr. Pinnock, 
 "that he evidently possesses good traits— for he is 
 remarkably fond of children. He distributes pence 
 amangfit them— he will watch them at their sports 
 — but he never speaks to them. They themselves 
 are afraid of him, notwithstanding his kindness : 
 for the folly of parents amongst the ignorant 
 orders, you know, often makes a bogie of any in- 
 dividual of peculiar and eccentric habits, and whom 
 people in reality know nothing at all about. But 
 here we are at home " 
 
 Gnsfavus had beea so absorbed in the interest 
 of this conversation that he had not noticed how 
 near they had been drawing towards Mount 
 Plea.<^ant. They now alighted ; and yonng Bar- 
 
 riogton hastened up to his chamber to make some 
 change in his toilet for the dinner-table— and fer 
 which purpose he bad now the means, inasmuch 
 as the articles he had purchased at Kingston had 
 been sent home. 
 
 CHAPTER SXIt 
 
 BSIILT PISSOCK. 
 
 Oir repairing to the dining-room, Gustavus Bar- 
 rington found Mr. Pinnock impatient to sit down 
 to the repast which was spread upon the table,— 
 while his niece Emily was bending over some 
 plants that were placed on an ornamental stand in 
 one of the open casements. Her back was towards 
 the youth as he crossed the threshold : but again 
 was he struck by the admirable symmetry of her 
 shape and the perfect modelling of her feet and 
 ankles. 
 
 " Come, my dear Mr. Barrington !" exclaimed 
 the merchant ; " I am sure you must have a good 
 appetite — unless indeed you lunched in Kingston t 
 By the bye, Emily was there for an hour or two, 
 engaged in shopping ; and I wonder you did not 
 meet." 
 
 At this moment Miss Pinnock turned away 
 from the window ; and as Gustavus had not met 
 her in the morning at the breakfast, table, he was 
 hastening to pay his respects to her, when he now 
 for the first time within the walls of that dwelling 
 caught a complete view of her countenance. For 
 an instant he stopped short in amasement, — his 
 heart at the same time being seized with a sudden 
 palpitation, produced by the blending influences of 
 joy and uncertainty : then he looked again— and 
 there was no longer .. doubt in his mind ; for the 
 countenance which he was now contemplating 
 with rapture was the same which he had beheld 
 through the tradesman's shop-window in King- 
 ston. 
 
 It was well for him that Mr. Pinnock was al- 
 ready settling himself at the dinner-table, or he 
 could not have failed to observe the various emo- 
 tions which his youthful guest thus displayed. But 
 Miss Pinnock did perceive them \ and her large 
 luminous black eyes were fixed upon Gustavus for 
 an instant, ere with her habitual bashfuloess she 
 turned away and glided towards her seat. Young 
 Barrington now recovered his self-possession : but 
 his heart continued to palpitate, and almost to 
 leap within him, at the circumstance which had 
 just so strangely revealed itself. For, after all, 
 his dream was an utter delusion ! Instead of the 
 flat nose and the coarse thick lips which the image 
 of his vision had presented to his view, he beheld 
 a faultless profile, delicately aquiline— the lips ex- 
 quisitely formed, and of the richest redness. In- 
 stead of cheeks marked and seared with the 
 ravages of the small-pox, he beheld a skin that 
 seemed to be of velvet softness, and through the 
 duskiness of which the warm blood mantled in 
 blushes. Finally, instead of a set of loathsomely 
 decayed teeth, he beheld two rows of polished 
 ivory, — teeth indeed that were of perfect beauty, 
 well-sh.iped, and faultlessly even. Yes— this was 
 Emily Hnnock, who with that handsome counte- 
 nance and that beantiftil fignre constituted the
 
 AGNE3 ; OB, BEATTTT AND PLEA8CBB. 
 
 loTeliest creature that ever the ejea of Gustayus 
 had rested upon ! 
 
 Oq the preceding evening he had addressed 
 little or none of his conversation to the young 
 lady : but now it was chiefly to her that he spoke ; 
 and he found that as her bashfulness towards a 
 stranger was gradually wearing off, she answered 
 him at greater length and presently began to 
 make comments of her own, so that the conversa- 
 tion should not be altogether sustained by him- 
 self. And he found likewise that she ventured to 
 look at him with less constraint and confusion 
 than at first. The impression that she was 
 amiable, intelligent, and accomplished stole upon 
 him by degrees ; and by the time the dessert was 
 placed upon the table, he was completely under 
 the induence of the many fascinations which the 
 young lady possessed. When he retired to his 
 chamber that evening, it was to dream of Emily 
 Pinnock— but in a manner very different from 
 that in which she had appeared to him in the 
 vision of the preceding night. 
 
 He arose at an early hour in the morning, in 
 the hope that as she was accustomed to breakfast 
 before her uncle, he might be permitted to take 
 bis own meal in her company : and this hope was 
 realized. They sat down to table together : she 
 was far less constrained or embarrassed than even 
 when they had separated on the previous day : she 
 began to treat Gustavus with that friendliness 
 which blends with courtesy on the part of a host 
 cr hostess towards a guest; and he saw that Mr. 
 Pionock's prophecy had every chance of being 
 fulfilled, to the effect that when they came to 
 know each other better they would be very good 
 friends. When Mr. Pinnock himself made his 
 appearance, he inquired it Gustavus purposed to 
 accompany him into Kingston : but the youth ex- 
 pressed a wish to ramble amidst the adjacent 
 scenery— though he spoke witi some little con- 
 fusion and hesitation. 
 
 " My dear young friend," exclaimed the good- 
 natured merchant, " pray do whatsoever you think 
 fit. It is my desire to render your sojourn 
 amongst us as agreeable as possible, and not to be 
 any restraint upon your actions. I dare say 
 Emily will presently show you whatsoever features 
 of attraction there are upon the estate.— or if 
 you like to roam about by yourself, she will not 
 .think it any ill compliment." 
 
 While the merchant was giving utterance to the 
 concluding portion of his speech, Emily had again 
 bent down over her favourite flowers ; and her 
 uncle issued from the room as the chaise was now 
 at the door. For a few minutes after his depar- 
 ture, there was silence in the breakfast-parlour j 
 for Gustavus felt somewhat embarrassed— he 
 wished to have Miss Emily's society in his pro- 
 posed ramble, but he scarcely dared ask for it. 
 She on her part had heard what Mr. Pinnock 
 said : but she was too much embarrassed to proffer 
 the fulfilment of the suggestion he had thrown 
 out. Thus she was bending over the flowers, the 
 long rich tresses of her coal-black .hair drooping 
 down to the leaves and buds which she appeared 
 to be contemplating, but her posture defining all 
 the flowing outlines of her symmetrical and some- 
 what voluptuous shape. At length Gustavus, 
 feeling that this silence oould endure no longer, 
 plucked up bis courage aa wcil as he could— 
 
 119 
 
 though it was still with some degree of hesitation, 
 stammering, and faltering, that he said, " If it 
 would be agreeable to you. Miss Pinnock — if you 
 have nothing better to do— and if it will not be 
 taking you away from any duties in-doors— I 
 should be honoured and flattered by your company 
 
 " Ob, with much pleasure !" she replied, raising 
 her head and for a moment bending her looks 
 upon young Barrington, while her ivory teeth 
 were revealed by the affable smile of her lips. 
 
 She hastened from the parlour ; and in a few 
 minutes she was ready for the pedestrian excur- 
 sion. She was dressed with great simplicity 
 though with exceeding neatness : the apparel she 
 wore set off her dusky beauty and her fine shape 
 to their fullest advantage ; so that Gustavus 
 thought she looked even more fascinating as well 
 as more strikingly handsome than when she was 
 dressed with greater richness and elegance at the 
 time he beheld her in Kingston on the preceding 
 day. 
 
 They walked forth together ; and the ciroum- 
 stances of the ramble tended to enhance their 
 mutual friendliness of manner and to smooth down 
 the formalities of mere courtesy into something 
 like intimacy. There were occasionally difficult 
 paths to take or little bridges to cross ; and Gus- 
 tavus was ready to give his hand to the young 
 lady, — though these attentions were indeed far ; 
 from necessary, inasmuch as she was familiar with | 
 every inch of the ground over which they were 
 walking. They visited the huts where dwelt the 1 
 free negro families that laboured upon the estate : [ 
 Miss Emily had a kind word for every one, — 
 though at the same time she maintained a certain 
 degree of dignity; and Gustavus perceived that I 
 there was some amount of pride in her disposition, 
 — a pride that at any moment could change into 
 hauteur, so that the expression of ber countenance ] 
 was not altogether unreflecting of the phases of | 
 her mind. Towards those whom she knew well, 
 there was no bashfulness in her manner— no re- ' 
 straint, no reserve : and Barrington therefore com- 
 prehended that it was only towards strangers who j 
 might be either her equals or her superiors, that ; 
 she experienced any awkwardness until she came : 
 to know them well. 
 
 As they were pursuing their walk, they pre- , 
 sently came to a spot where some dozen of little 
 black children were disporting together ; and at a 
 short distance stood Mr. Hargrave, the misan- 
 thropic individual whom Gustavus had seen on the 
 preceding day. Ho was leaning against a tree, 
 with his arms folded across his chest, and survey, 
 ing the children as they were engaged in their 
 sports. He was motionless as a statue : his eye* 
 were riveted upon the little swarm of negro juve- 
 niles : and he did not appear to observe the ap- ; 
 proach of Miss Pinnock and her companion. They 
 advanced near enough to mark the expression of 
 his countenance ; and Gustavus could now per. 
 ceive that it was filled with a profound melan. 
 choly,— with which however a certain bitterness 
 and also vacancy were blended ; so that the youth 
 was more than ever impressed with the belief that 
 the unfortunate gentleman could not be altogether 
 right in his mind. We have already said that Mr, 
 Hargrave was tall and thin, and he had grey hair. ; 
 Handsome he could never have been in the strict j
 
 accopUnce of the terra : but that in his 
 more youthful period he might have merited 
 ihc less positive epithet of " good-looking," 
 was. quit" possible. He had dark eyes which 
 shone hrishtly ; and once, when for an instant 
 he smiled at some peculiar antic on the part 
 of one of the black children, he displayed a fine 
 set of teeth. 
 
 "I saw that gentleman yesterday," said Gus- 
 tavus in a low tone to Miss Pinnock. "Your 
 uncle told me of his peculiarities and eccentri- 
 
 " Yes— he is a very strange being," responded 
 Emily. "He always bows to me with a suffi- 
 cient degree of courtesy : but we have never 
 yet exchanged a syllable. Ah, he notices us 
 now!" 
 
 At that instant Mr. Hargrave suddenly 
 started from his motionless attitude against 
 the tree : and lifting his hat to Miss Pinnock, 
 he turned away : walking slowly along, like one 
 vrbo was in profound thought, he was ■ soon 
 lost to the view amidst the neighbouring trees. 
 
 Gustaviis and Eniily pursued their ramble; 
 and presently the young lady pointed out 
 to her companion a small cottuge and a 
 still more diminutive hut, which stood in the 
 midst of a little garden. These were re- 
 spectively the habitations of Mr. Hargrave 
 and the old negro who attended to bis household 
 
 While returning from their walk, Gustavus 
 and Emily perceived a tall black man ap. 
 preaching. He was a finely-b\iilt, athletic fel- 
 low, with a form that would have served 
 admirably as a model for the statue of a gladiator ; 
 but his countenance, having the true African 
 stamp of features, was by no means equally de- 
 serving of commendation. 
 
 As this negi-o advanced, Gustavus observed 
 that Emily drew closer to his side ; and as he 
 offered his arm — which he had not hitherto 
 done — she at once took it. He even fancied 
 that she dung to him as if in some sort 
 feeling that it was to the arm of a protector ; 
 and he was struck by the idea that she had 
 some great and powerful reason for enter- 
 taining an apprehension on account of that in- 
 dividual. 
 
 The negro slackened his pace as he ad- 
 vanced ; and though he made a profoundly 
 respectful salutation, yet his looks were for a mo- 
 ment flung upon Emily in a manner which Gus- 
 tavus conceived to be sinister though incompre- 
 hensible. They were looks which might have 
 indicated either a fierce vindictive resentment or 
 else the bm'ning desire of lustful passion — but 
 which it was the youth could not in his own mind 
 determine. 
 
 "Good morning, Nelson," said Miss Emily, 
 as she and Gustavus passed the tall, strong-built 
 negro : and these few words were in acknow- 
 ledgment of the respectful salutation he had 
 made. 
 
 "Does that man belong to Mr. Pinnock's 
 estate ?" inquired Gustavus, when he and Emily 
 were at a little distance from the spot where 
 they had passed the negro. 
 
 " No," she replied : " he belongs to the neigh- 
 bouring estate— but he has acquaintances amongst 
 my uncle's people ; and besides, h« is often sent 
 on our plantation with messages from bis 
 master." 
 
 " Pardon the observation. Miss Pinnock," said 
 Gustavus, after a moment's pause, " but me- 
 thought you liked not altogether the presence 
 of th.it man?" 
 
 Emily did not immediately give any reply : 
 
 ■ AND PLEASURE. 
 
 but at the expiration of a few moments she 
 said, with the candid tone of one suddenly re- 
 solving to unbosom herself to a friend, " I confess 
 you are-right, Mr. Barrington. And yet I know 
 
 not how it is perhaps I am very foolish' 
 
 but to apeak frankly, I never behold that man 
 without an indescribable sensation of terror 
 creeping over me. Yet his conduct has always 
 been respectful enough — and therefore I suppose 
 it must be on account of something in his 
 looks. They are looks which I do not dare 
 meet : I huiTy past him without venturing 
 to raise my eyes, and yet with a feeling as 
 if I thus incurred the danger of being 
 suddenly seized upon by him unawares. Now 
 I am certain you will consider mc a very silly 
 girl " 
 
 " Heaven forbid. Miss Pinnock ! ' ejaculated 
 Gustavus, with much earnestness: "for though 
 our acquaintance has been so short, yet I have 
 with increasing pleasure 'discovered that yon are 
 intelligent,' ' 
 
 The hand which hitherto had rested upon the . 
 youth's arm since Emily first took it when the 
 negro appeared in sight, was now gently with- 
 drawn ; and as her looks were bent downward, | 
 Gustavus could not catch a glimpse of her counte- | 
 
 " Perhaps she thinks I am flattering her," 
 he said within himself ; " and she is o&nded ? 
 — Miss Pinnock." he continued, addressing him- 
 self to the young lady. "I know that you are 
 too intelligent to be alarmed without a cause ; 
 and I will confess that there was something in 
 that man's looks as we passed him which I did 
 not like." 
 
 " Ah, you thought so ?" exclaimed Emily, 
 now suddenly raising her countenance : and 
 there was nothing in its expression to justify 
 Barrington's fear that she was offended. " Then 
 you consider that it is really not altogether with- 
 out just grounds that I have conceived an aversion 
 for that man?" 
 
 " So far from it, " rejoined Gustavus, with 
 serious energy, " that I entreat j-ou to beware . : 
 him." 
 
 " Good heavens, Mr. Barrington !" exciainn 
 Miss Pinnock ; " you are now indeed complett-1 
 confirming all my apprehensions ! Yet wL 
 should I be afraid of him? I have never doi- 
 
 him an injury 1 have always endeavoured t > 
 
 speak ci^Tlly to him, as you just now heard me 
 
 and he would be vei-y wicked to think of 
 
 doing me a mischief." 
 
 There was so much unaffected candour and 
 artlessness in this speech that it afforded the 
 strongest possible proof of the innocence of the 
 young lady's mind. She was evidently in fear of 
 Nelson's malignity o7ily : her thoughts were too 
 pure to suggest that her beauty might have in- 
 flamed his passions and that her person was the 
 object of his lust. 
 
 Therefore, while Gustavus discovered in Miss 
 Pinnock a new trait to excite his admiration, 
 he was on the other hand firmly convinced that 
 the looks, at fii-st so incomprehensible, which 
 the negro had bent upon her, were indeed ex- 
 pressive of the desires with which his soul was 
 inflamed. 
 
 But while he repeated the warning that Emily 
 should be on her guai-d against any evil that 
 Nelson might be capable of towards her, he 
 was careful to avoid the slightest hint which by 
 enlightening her in respect to the real nature of 
 the danger which she had to apprehend, might 
 shock the delicacy of her mind and enlarge the 
 range of her thoughts which by yirgin chastity 
 were circumscribed.
 
 AGNES; OB, BEAUTY AND PLEASCKE. 
 
 ii,Mir;ijlfA!i''fc*^^^^^ 
 
 Several days passed ; and Guslavus was thrown 
 much into the society of Miss Pinnock. They 
 walked out together ; and when they were indoors, 
 he sat reading to her while she was at her work. 
 All bashfulneSB, awkwardness, and confusion were 
 banished on both sides ; and an intimacy was 
 springing up. Indeed, Gustavus thought that he 
 was learning to regard Emily Pinnock with the 
 sincerity of friendship ; while she on her own side 
 entertained a similar impression. Mr. Pinnock 
 Beemed well pleased that they were getting to be 
 such good friends : for, as he declared, it delighted 
 him to find that Gustarus was enjoying himself 
 at Mount Pleasant and that Emily did not suffer 
 the time to hang heavily on his hands. 
 
 But one day— at the expiration of a week after 
 Barrington'a arrival at the merchant's hospitable 
 abode — Emily was compelled to go into Kingston 
 on a shopping excursion ; and as ahe said nothing 
 to encourage Gustavus to offer to accompany her, 
 No. 16.— AOJTBS. 
 
 he dared not mate the proposal— for he fancied 
 that she would rather be alone when engaged in 
 such a pursuit. He accordingly rambled forth by 
 himself : but he felt as if his spirits had expe- 
 rienced a cause for depression— as if the walk 
 could not possibly be agreeable without the pre- 
 sence of his usual companion. It was therefore 
 almost in a melancholy mood that he wandered 
 along, listjess and indifferent wiih regard to the 
 direction which he was taking. He presently 
 found himself upon the sea-shore, at no great dis. 
 tance from the spot where he had first met Mr. 
 Hargrave. Gustavus sat down to contemplate that 
 wide expanse of sea now reposing in a tranquillity 
 which was unbroken by even a single ripple, but 
 which only a week back had been so furiously agi- 
 tated by the demon of the storm. Gustavus 
 sought to rivet his attention upon that ocean that 
 he might poetically apostrophise it in reproachful- 
 nesa for its treachery : but his thoughts kept re-
 
 
 AQiraB; OB, B£AC/Tr AMI fLBABOJlB, 
 
 verting to Emily. He hatl seen her set off for 
 Kicgstou, in the chaise wbicli had been sent to 
 bear her thither : she was again dressed with min- 
 gled richness and elegance — and he could not de- 
 termine whether he most admired her in this latter 
 garb, or in that apparel which she habitually wore 
 and which was characterized by so much neatness 
 and simplicity. Indeed, he fancied that in either 
 way she was eminently handsome and fascinat- 
 ingly beautiful,— though ho frequently said to 
 himself, " But I do not tho less love my dear 
 cousin Winnie! Oh, no !— I never can love any 
 one better than TVinnie ! Besides, she is a rela- 
 tion—while Emily Pinnock is only a friend!" 
 
 AYhile Gustavus was thus engaged in contem- 
 plating tho ocean— but with his thoughts chielly 
 fixed upon Emily Pinnock, with an occasional 
 reference to bis cousin 'Winifred— he perceived 
 some dark object dealing near the shore at a little 
 distance. At first he fancied that it was a piece 
 of timber : and indeed for some time he scarcely 
 devoted any particular consideration to the object 
 at all: but at length the idea gradually began 
 stealing in unto his mind that it was a corpse 
 which he thus beheld. He rose and advanced 
 towards it ; and it was now so close upon the 
 shore that his suspicion was at once conlirmed. 
 It was indeed a corpse! Gustavus forthwith pro- 
 ceeded to drag it upon the strand; and then he 
 found it to be the body of the old miser Elver- 
 stone. But so disfigured were the remains of the 
 deceased — so hideously loathsome was its counte- 
 nance, on which the fishes had banqueted — that it 
 was only by the apparel the youth was enabled to 
 establish the identity. 
 
 Yes— the corpse of Elverstone it assuredly was ! 
 —for there, beneath the outer garment, were the 
 leathern bags in which the avaricious old man had 
 disposed of his gold. Gustavus recoiled from the 
 revolting spectacle ; and as he turned aside, he 
 beheld Mr. Hargrave standing at a short distance, 
 steadfastly looking on with bis arms folded across 
 hi? breast. 
 
 "The sea gives up its dead," said Mr. Ilargrave, 
 in a low deep voice, " as the heart of man must 
 sooner or later give up the mysteries which lie in : 
 its most secret depths !" ' 
 
 " But if those mysteries," replied Gustavus, 
 seized with curiosity to draw the misanthrope into ' 
 conversation, " consist of misfortunes only, and be 
 not associated with crimes, the heart can be sen- 
 sible of no more pain in surrendering them up, 
 than the corpse when thrown upon the land occii- 
 sions to that deep and silent sea " 
 
 "True!" said Mr. Hnrgrave : and fixing his 
 eyes with penetrating scrutiny upon Gustavus, he 
 added, '" Your words were cunningly arranged, 
 young man, to fathom the secrets of my heart. 
 Ah ! there is a blush upon your cheeks. Y'ou 
 sought to learn whether, if the mysteries of this 
 heart of mine were given up, they would speak 
 of misfortune only, or of crime ? But fear not : 
 I am not angry. Pirhaps if I were a criminal, 
 my cheeks would have burnt with even a ruddier 
 glow than your own — but they did not. How- 
 ever, let that pass. Y'on unfortunate stranger" 
 — and he pointed towards tho corpse — " whose 
 remains you have dragged forth from the boscm | 
 
 of the ocean " 
 
 " Ho is no stranger to me," interrupted Gustsivus. 
 
 time ' 
 
 " I know him — his na 
 shipwrecked at the si 
 cisely eight days back." 
 
 " Ah ! then you know him by his apparel t" said 
 Mr. Hargrave: " for if tho mother that bore him 
 were to come hither at this moment, she could nut 
 recognise in that loathsomely disfigured counto- 
 nance the face of her own offspring." 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Barrington : " it was by his 
 raiment that I first had an idea who he was: but 
 that idea is confirmed beyond the possibility of 
 , doubt by these leathern bags in which the wretched 
 man secured his gold." 
 
 " Tell me that tale of your shipwreck," said Mr. 
 Hargrave, surveying Gustavus with interest and 
 I attention. 
 
 I We have already said that the youth was well 
 pleased to enter into conversation with a roan 
 j whose habits had hitherto been so completely taci- 
 turn since his arrival in the neighbourhood of 
 Kingston ; and Gustavus accordingly began to tell 
 the history of his shipwreck. He however sought 
 to sp^ak as modestly as possible of himself in re- 
 ference to the old miser Elverstone: but he soon 
 found that Mr. Hargrave was as keen in penetra- 
 ting the truth and as pertinacious in questioning 
 him as Mr. Pinnock had been on the first evening 
 of his introduction to that merchant. Thus after 
 a little while Mr. Hargrave wormed out of Gus- 
 tavus every particular in respect to the youth'« 
 generous conduct towards Elverstone; and it was 
 with increasing attention and interest that the 
 misanthrope surveyed the young sailor. 
 , "You arc one," he said, " who are seeking your 
 J fortune in a career of danger and vicissitudes. If 
 
 the deceased miser Elverstone have relations " 
 
 { " I happen to know," interrupted Gustavus, not 
 i foreseeing what was to be tho drift of Mr. Har- 
 grave's speech, " that he had neither kith noi 
 kindred on the face of the earth. We often con- 
 versed together on board the ill-fated Catharine 
 Millard : I believe that 1 was the only person to 
 whom he took any liking or with whom he would 
 discourse in the least degree freely ; and he has 
 often told me that he stood alone in the world — 
 : an isolated being, having outlived all his kindred 
 < and having no soul with whom ho could claim re- 
 lationship, or by whom relationship unto himself 
 could be claimed." 
 ' "Then, in that case," said Mr. Hargrave, "take 
 you possession of the gold which the miser had 
 hoarded up. It is your's for many reasons. Y'our's 
 because you were the last with whom he spoke on 
 earth — your's because you sought to save his life, 
 with a thousand perils to your own— your's bo- 
 cause he promised to reward you if you should 
 succeed in saving him— and your's because you 
 have just dragged bis corpse ashore from the sea 
 which has given it up." 
 
 "Yet none of all. these reasons," replied Qus- 
 tnvus, " appear to me sufficiently valid to establish 
 mo in the possession of that treasure. I would 
 not touch one particle of that gold unless right- 
 fully entitled to it: — and rightfully entitled I 
 neither am nor ever shall be." 
 
 Mr. Hargrave contemplated Barrington long 
 and steadfastly; and at length he said, " AVhat ! 
 is It possible that I meet a human being who will 
 not readily stretch forth Uis hand to clutch gold 
 whensoever it is uQered to hia grasp P But come !
 
 AONES ; OR, BEAUTY AHD PIEABCBE. 
 
 123 
 
 you imagine perhaps that I might prove an incon- 
 Tenient witness of Iho fact — and you would no 
 longer hesitate to self-appropriate a part if I were 
 to suggest that we share the treasure between 
 us?" 
 
 " So far from my being prepared to agree to 
 any such arrangement," replied GustaYus, with 
 some degree of indignation iu his look and tone, 
 ** I will not permit any one to lay a baud upon 
 that treasure until the proper authorities be upon 
 the spot to take possession. I know not to wliom 
 it may rightfully belong: but iu England I know 
 that there are Lords of tho Manor who have pri- 
 vileges iu such cases — and it may be the same 
 here : or perhaps the gold should by virtue of the 
 law pass into the public treasury of tho island— or 
 bo devoted to soipe special charity. In any case J. 
 
 " Enough, young man ! enough !" exclaimed 
 Mr. Hargrave : " you shall have your own will. 
 You could not for an instant imagine that I — a 
 sort of outcast— a being mure isolated than that 
 miser could possibly have been at the time he 
 spoke to you of his isolation, — you cannot con- 
 ceive that I could crave any portion of that trea- 
 sure ? I have no taste for gold ; because gold is 
 only valuable so far as it can enhance the en- 
 joyments of life — and I have lost all taste for life 
 itself. Not to nie, then, does whatsoever amount 
 of gold those leathern bags may contain, appear in 
 any other light than the earth itself upon which 
 the corpse reposes. But yo«, young man, in the 
 very bloom of existence- well-favoured and high- 
 epiriled— with the loftiest aspirations, yet deficient 
 in the means of attaining their object— generous 
 of heart, yet lacking the power to display all your 
 noble generosity, — that you should reject that 
 treasure is to me most marvellous ! AVby, what 
 have not human beings done for gold ? The 
 honour of tho proudest men has been purchased by 
 it ! — the virtue of the most beautiful women has 
 sold itself for that same precious metal ! Justice, 
 though blind-folded, has nevertheless been so daz- 
 atled by its luminous rays penetrating through her 
 bandage, that she has taken the glittering ore and 
 tossed it into her balance, so that the wrong 
 aide has weighed down and the side of right has 
 gone up! Yes— every crime known upon this 
 earth has been perpetrated for gold 1 And yet 
 you recoil even from that which may in the 
 slightest degree savour of a fault, when it is pro- 
 posed that by so doing you may suddenly become 
 
 " Yes— I recoil," responded Gustavus : " and 
 not for worlds would I self-appropriate that trea* 
 
 *' Excellent young man!" exclaimed Mr. Har- 
 grave : " rest assured that though you are thus 
 acting from the purest and most disinterested mo- 
 tives, your conduct will nevertheless meet it.^ 
 reward. Eemain you here with the curpse :— you 
 who are armed with the defences of the noblesl, 
 qualities, can best protect the dead from the rifling 
 hand of any intending plunderer." 
 
 Having thus spoken, Mr. Hargrave hurried 
 away from the spot ; and he was speedily lost to 
 
 conjectured from the misanthrope's words, as well 
 as from the abrupt manner in which he had taken 
 himself off, that ho purposed to fetch aseietanco to 
 
 remove tho corpse to some suitable place for its 
 reoeption ; and be therefore resolved to fulfil tho 
 instructions he had received by tarrying to keep 
 guard over it. He sat down at a little distance, 
 with bis eyes however averted from tho loathsome 
 spectacle ; and thus upwards of an hour passed. 
 At the expiration of that interval he beheld some 
 persons advancing towards tho spot ; and he soon 
 perceived that these were four of the negroes be- 
 longing to Mr. Pinnock's estate. They carried 
 amongst them a species of bier, on which lay a 
 large cloth wherewith to cover the dead. The 
 corpse was placed upon the bier ; and the negroes 
 bent their way toward*? Mount Pleasant, — Gus- 
 tavus following. But ho saw nothing more of 
 Mr. Hargrave. 
 
 The negroes deposited the corpse iu a hut about 
 a quarter of a mile distant from Mr. Pinnock's 
 residence; and having locked the door, they gave 
 Gustavus the key,— one of them stating that they 
 had thereby followed out the instructions which 
 Mr. Hargrave had given them. The youth took 
 the key and proceeded homeward. He found that 
 Emily bad returned about an hour back ; and she 
 was already acquainted with the iiuding of tho 
 body of the deceased miser Elverstone; for Mr, 
 Hargrave had been thither to request that assist, 
 ance might be sent down to the sea-shore for its 
 removal to some safe convenient place until an in- 
 quest could be holden upon it. Miss Pinnock 
 had likewise been informed that tho dead body 
 had a considerable quantity of gold about it : but 
 she did not breathe a syllable to the effect that 
 she was also acquainted with the manner in which 
 Gustavus had refused to self-appropriate that gold 
 — although there was something in her looks 
 which made the youth suspect that Mr. Hargrave 
 had not remained altogether silent upon the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Shortly afterwards Mr. Pinnock arrived at the 
 house ; and on entering the apartment where 
 Emily and Gustavus were seated, he exclaimed, 
 "You need not tell me a single syllable of any- 
 thing that has happened ! I know it all ! That 
 extraordinary fellow Hargravo cams to me at 
 the counting-house ; and for half-an-hour ho 
 idemnified himself in the shape of talk for whole 
 years of taciturnity. AVIiy, what do you think, 
 Emily ? This noble-minded young guest'of our'a 
 refused to enrich himself when by stretching out 
 his hand ho could have done so, and when ho was 
 actually enjoined to do so by one who advanced a 
 thousand reasons to persuade him that he would 
 be justified in doing it.^" 
 
 " I know it, uncle," answered Emily, in a quiet 
 tone ; and yet there was a slightly perceptible 
 vibration of tremulousness in her accents. 
 
 " Ah, you know it ?" ejaculated Mr. Piunook. 
 " Then I suppose Hargrave was as communicative 
 to you as ho was to me? He told mo that he had 
 been here, and that he had seen you. His tongue 
 appears to be completely unlocked, and that it 
 only required such unlocking in order to rattle 
 away at a fine rate and make amends for a past 
 eternity of silence. But since you know every- 
 thing, Eoiily, you have of course been expressing 
 to Mr. Barrington all that was fiatteriog and com- 
 plimentary in respect to his noble conduct?" 
 
 " I have said nothing flattering or compli- 
 mentary to Mr. Barrington, uncle," retained
 
 AGSEB; OB, BEAHTr iND PLEASCKB. 
 
 Emily, in the same quiet tone as before, and also 
 with the same tremulous Tibration of the accents. 
 
 "What!" cried Mr. Pinnock, "you have not 
 told him how every good and honest person must 
 admire this conduct on bis part?" 
 
 " I said nothing of all this," rejoined Emily ; 
 " because the satisfaction experienced by a heart 
 conscious of its own integrity, is a far higher 
 reward for a good deed than any praise which 
 
 besto 
 
 It was in a lower voice than before that Emily 
 Pinnock thus spoke; and as the last words Auwed 
 forth from her lips, her largo dark eyes flung a 
 look upon Gustavus, — a look which was full of the 
 warmest and loftiest admiration for that conduct 
 which she had been eulogizing in a mannt 
 once so lady-like and so delicate. And the heart 
 of Gustavus felt the influence of that look: it 
 swelled with rapturous emotions — it seemed to 
 him as if he felt a more affectionate sentiment of 
 friendship towards Emily Pinnock than he had 
 ever previously experienced, strong as that senti- 
 ment had already been. He felt too that if they 
 had been alone he could have strained her in his 
 arms, or have fallen at her feet to press her hand 
 to his lips and thank hor for having deemed his 
 conduct worthy of so much kind, delicate, and 
 generous consideration on her part. 
 
 " That Hargrave," exclaimed Mr. Pinnock, " is 
 a very extraordinary man— and a very good man 
 too, or else I am exceedingly mistaken ! He is 
 
 resolved But no matter! I am not going to 
 
 tell secrets aqd now therefore let us sit down 
 
 to dinner." 
 
 Throughout the remainder of that evening 
 Gustavus Barrington could not help thinking 
 that there was a diS'erenoe in Emily's manner 
 towards him — but a difl'erflnce of a pleasing and 
 enrapturing character. She displayed not merely 
 the ingenuous candour and open-heartedness of 
 friendship : but there was something softer still- 
 something that seemed to border almost upon 
 tender interest, without however amounting to 
 any actual manifestation of love. It was as if 
 she felt herself drawn closer to him by circum- 
 stances,— as if there were a sympathy attracting 
 heart to heart, — as if many barriers which on ac. 
 count of the briefness of their acquaintance had 
 previously existed between them, had been sud- 
 denly hurled down, — as if, in short, they had 
 known each other for a very long period and a 
 corresponding degree of conflding intimacy was 
 the result. 
 
 On the following day there was an inquest upon 
 the body ; and Gustavus was summoned as the 
 principal witness. He identified the corpse ; and 
 being questioned by the Coroner, gave some de- 
 tails in reference to the shipwreck. Mr. Hargrave 
 was likewise summoned : but he simply deposed 
 to the fact of having seen Gustavus drag the 
 corpse ashore. The proceedings quickly termi- 
 nated; and a suitable verdict was returned. Gus- 
 tavus looked about for Mr. Hargrave when he 
 issued from the hut where the ceremony took 
 place I but the misanthrope was nowhere to be 
 seen. The youth accordingly repaired to Mount 
 Pleasant, to accompany Emily for a walk; and he 
 still found that the beautiful quadroon displayed 
 towards him a manner which savoured somewha 
 of the artless familiarity and confiding franknes 
 
 of a sister— though it difTered in this respect, that 
 there was a certain subdued tenderness about it. 
 He felt happy — elate — enraptured with joy — 
 though all the while believing, or at least endea. 
 vouring to persuade himself, that in the feelings 
 which he experienced towards Emily Pinnock 
 there was nothing which in any way impaired or 
 interfered with the affectionate regard he had 
 been wont to entertain for bis cousin Winifred. 
 
 On returning to the house after their ramble, 
 Emily and Gustavus were surprised to find that 
 Mr. Pinnock was at home, it being a full hour 
 earlier than that at which he was wont to make 
 his afternoon appearance at Mount Pleasant. 
 
 "There!" he at once exclaimed, starting np 
 from his seat— with one hand clapping Gustavus 
 upon the shoulder— and with the other pointing 
 towards the table in the drawing.room where this 
 scene took place : " those are for you !" 
 
 Gustavus and Emily both glanced at the table, 
 upon which they beheld a small box of common 
 wood, and a letter of a long ofHcial shape, bearing 
 a very large seal. This document was addressed 
 to " Gustavus Barrington, Esq.," and the youth 
 proceeded to open it. It was a letter from the 
 Governor of Jamaica, couched in terms the most 
 flattering to Gustavus. It set forth that having 
 heard from Mr. Hargrave how Mr. Barrington 
 had refused to possess himself of the gold founa 
 about the person of the deceased Mr. Elverstone — 
 and that having likewise heard from Mr. Pinnock 
 how Mr. Barrington had behaved in the kindest 
 and most generous manner towards Mr. Elver- 
 stone during the a^vful perils of the storm anJ 
 shipwreck — the Governor of Jamaica had awardea 
 to Mr. Barrington the amount of golden treasure 
 that bad been found upon the person of the de- 
 ceased. 
 
 Scarcely had Gustavus read this document, 
 when Mr. Pinnock snatched it from his hand; 
 and giving it to Emily, he cried, " Eead this— and 
 see how highly it tells on behalf of our young 
 
 Miss Pinnock took the letter : but as she read 
 it, she partially averted her countenance, so that 
 her features were veiled by the long massive 
 tresses of her black hair from the view of Mr. 
 Pinnock and Gustavus. The merchant began to 
 open the box containing the gold which had been 
 sent from the governor's house— while Gustavus, 
 thinking at the moment nought of the precious 
 metal, had his eyes fixed upon Euiily Pinnock. 
 She slowly looked round:— there was a glowing 
 admiration in her regards, — a flush of enthusiastic 
 joy upon her cheeks,— all bespeaking the nature 
 nd the strength of the emotions that were swell- 
 ng in her bosom. But deeper grew that blush as 
 she suddenly perceived that the eyes of Gustavus 
 were fixed upon her ; and her own eyes were in- 
 stantaneously withdrawn— but not before thos« 
 luminous orbs had poured upon Gustavus a flood 
 of light, brilliant yet tender— shining yet full of 
 softness— and which seemed to envelope his entira 
 soul in its halo. Then he again felt as if h^ 
 Id seize her in his arms and strain her to his 
 breast : he felt as if he longed to press to his heart 
 that form which seemed glowing with emotions 
 excited on his account, — to drink in the sweets of 
 her lips and to look down into the depths of her 
 superb dark eyes.
 
 AOITEB; OB, BEAUTT 
 
 Siniier was shortlj afterwards served up; and 
 Mr. Pinnock explained how the incident with re. 
 spcct to the Governor of Jamiaca had been 
 brought about. 
 
 "I told jou yesterday," he said, " that Har- 
 grave came to my counting-house and discoursed 
 at a rate as if he were determined to show that 
 he really possessed a tongue and could use it. He 
 was enthusiastic in his eulogies of your conduct, 
 Gustavus. He said that he had seen so much 
 wickedness in the world that to meet with an 
 honest and upright heart was like being lifted 
 from pandemonium into paradise. He vowed 
 that you should be recompensed for your gene- 
 rosity towards Elverstone and your integrity in 
 refusing to possess yourself of the miner's gold. 
 I was very well disposed to aid him ; and away 
 we went to the Governor. The result of our pro- 
 ceedings is now known to you— and I am happy 
 in being enabled to congratulate yuu on the pos- 
 session of a fortune of at least fourteen or hftecn 
 thousand pounds." 
 
 The heart of Gustavus leapt with joy on hear- 
 ing how rich he had suddenly become ; for so 
 ignorant was ho of the value of the precious 
 metal, that his ideas had not extended beyond a 
 tenth part of the sum which Mr. Pinnock had 
 just named. To that worthy merchant he ex- 
 pressed his gratitude for the kind intervention he 
 had adopted on his behalf, in company with Mr. 
 Hargrave; and he resolved to seek the earliest 
 opportunity of conveying a simitar tribute of his 
 thanks to the misanthrope himself. 
 
 When he retired to rest that evening, Gustavus 
 began to deliberate what course he should now 
 pursue. Nearlv two years had elapsed since he 
 ieft his cousin "Winnie in a state of comparative 
 poverty, and his grandfather still the inmate of a 
 prison. He had now the means of surrounding 
 them both with every comfort— perhaps indeed of 
 eflfecting the liberation of his grandsire ; for Gus- 
 tavus was as ignorant as Winifred herself of the 
 extent and nature of the old man's liabilities— and 
 in the mingled enthusiasm and inexperience of 
 youth he thought that fourteen or fifteen thousand 
 pounds constituted a sum that could accomplish 
 almrst anything. 
 
 " It was but a week ago," he said within him- 
 self, " that I wrote to Winifred to tell her how I 
 had just escaped from the awful perils of ship- 
 wreck and had found friends in a strange land. 
 But now it is my duty to take ship with the least 
 rossible delay for my native country, and bear 
 »o those beloved relatives the gold which Provi- 
 dence has given me." 
 
 For an instant there was a feeling of unspeak- 
 able joy in the young man's heart — a gush of 
 emotions which made that heart swell, his lips 
 quiver, and the tears come into his eyes: but the 
 next instant he found himself heaving a profound 
 sigh — for the image of the beautiful quadroon 
 Beemed to rise up before him, and he was smitten 
 with the feeling that it would be nard indeed to 
 part from f^oe with whom he nad formed so affec- 
 tionate a friendship, ^h ! he looked upon it as 
 friendship! — but jen was friendship so tender ? 
 and when ha it ever so completely taken upon 
 itself the semblance of love ? 
 
 The youth lay awake for some time, reflecting 
 upon the course which he ought to pursue; and 
 
 feeling that duty was paramount, he resolved upon 
 performing that duty at every sacrifice of his own 
 sentiments and of his own incliuatioaa in respect 
 to Emily Pinnock. 
 
 CHAPTER XXUr. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 At breakfast.time on the following morning Mr. 
 Pinnock proposed to convert Gustavus Barring- 
 ton's ore into its value in sterling money,— offer- 
 ing to undertake the task, and giving the youth 
 tho assurance that he would make the best bargain 
 which was possible on bis behalf. The merchant 
 however added that two or three days might 
 elapse before he should be enabled to effect this 
 object ; and therefore Gustavus said nothing at 
 that moment of his intention to leave Jamaica 
 with the least possible delay. Two or three days 
 more or less would make no very great difference 
 —besides, he must have a little time for his pre- 
 parations for the voyage— and then too, Emily 
 Pinnock looked so exceedingly handsome and was 
 in such good spirits that he could not possibly find 
 it in his heart to say a syllable that might distress 
 her; for he flattered himself that on account of 
 the friendship which subsisted between them, abo 
 would be as much grieved as ho himself was at 
 the idea of separation. 
 
 Mr. Pinnock went off into Kingston, taking the 
 box of gold with him : Gustavus and Emily sallied 
 forth for their usual ramble. Tho youth expressed 
 a desire to see Mr. Hargrave, in order that he 
 might assure that gentleman of the gratitude he 
 experienced for his generous conduct towards hira; 
 so that the young couple walked in the direction 
 of the cottage where the misanthrope dwelt. 
 Hitherto Gustavus had never spoken of his family 
 affairs to Miss Pinnock : he had never even so 
 much as mentioned his cousin Winifred nor his 
 grandfather : but now he was led on to do so by 
 the course which the conversation took. For 
 Emily Pinnock, while repeating her congratula- 
 tions on his good fortune, ingenu:)U3ly observed, 
 " You will now at least be independent of a sea- 
 faring life, Mr, Barrington ; and you need not 
 again risk those ocean-perils which I am sure no 
 one would court unless actually compelled by cir- 
 
 This speech — so artlessly made, and arising 
 from the purest and most ingenuous feelings- 
 startled Gustavus somewhat, and made him sud- 
 denly ask himself, " Can she possibly believe that 
 I intend to settle in Jamaica altogether, or esta- 
 blish myself for the rest of my life at Mount 
 Pleasant?" 
 
 Yet there was a feeling within hira as if it 
 would not be very disagreeable to be forced to 
 adopt these alternatives: but on the other hand 
 the sense of duty was still uppermost: ho was re- 
 solved to return to England without delay— and 
 it struck him that he ought to communicate this 
 intention to his companion. 
 
 "You speak, Miss Pmnock," he said, "as if 
 there were no necessity for me again to go forth 
 upon the great ocean. But whether as an officer 
 or as a mere passenger on board some ship, I shall
 
 12C 
 
 AQHES; OB, BEArTT ASD PLSASVBE. 
 
 vhiob 
 
 shortly hare to ilni-e tbe same peril: 
 alike who emuark on that element have to en- 
 coauter. I have relations in England,— an aged 
 grandsire, who has experienced much misfor- 
 tune — a cousin whom 1 left in comparative 
 poverty " 
 
 "And you aro doubtless anxious to rejoin 
 them?" said Emily, in a \ov voice, and with her 
 looks bent downward, as she walked by the side of 
 Gustaviis. 
 
 " Oh ! is it not my bounden duty ?" he ex- 
 claimed, in a vehement manner which showed 
 that the sense of duty whereof ho spoke was 
 struggling painfully against some strong inclina- 
 tion of nn opposite tendency. *' Am I not bound 
 to hasten back to those who may perhaps be suf- 
 fering and whose distresses I may be enabled to 
 alleviate ? Yes ! —I am sure that with your gene- 
 rosity of heart you would even urge me " 
 
 "Then you seriously think of leaving us?" in- 
 terrupted Dmily : and there was something strange 
 in her tone, as she continued to keep her looks 
 bent downward, while walking by the youth's 
 side. 
 
 Gustavus could not immediately give the reply 
 which he felt it would grieve himself to utter, and 
 which he feared it wouM grieve the beautiful 
 quadroon to hear: but after a few moments' re- 
 dection, bo said in a gentle and subdued voice, 
 " I have experienced so much kind hospitality — 
 so much generous friendship at Mount Pleasant, 
 that it will afflict me infinitely to bid adieu to a 
 place where the shipwrecked stranger has found a 
 home and friends. But I have only one course to 
 pursue— the course dictated by duty— and I must 
 obey the mandate." 
 
 "And no one would attempt to dissuade ilr. 
 Barrington from such a course," said Miss Pin- 
 nock, still in a voice that was low in tone, and 
 strange in its accents— and still with a counte- 
 nance so bent downward as well as half averted 
 that Gustavus could not calch the slightest 
 glimpse of it. 
 
 " I have already told you," he said, " that I pos- 
 sess an aged grandfather who for years past has 
 
 been plunged into the deepest afflictions and 
 
 then too there is my poor cousin Winifred " 
 
 " Ah ! your cousin," said Miss Pinnock, " is a 
 lady, then ?" — and for an instant she glanced 
 towards Gustavus : but her looks were the next 
 moment withdrawn as rapidly. " I thought per- 
 haps he was a young gentleman — like your- 
 eelf " 
 
 " Ob, no !" cried Gustavus ; " Winifred is a 
 girl of about eighteen— as amiable and good a 
 
 " And perhaps beautiful too ?" said Miss Pin- 
 nock. 
 
 " Beautiful ?" repeated young Barrington, slowly 
 and deliberately. " Well, I never thought of Win- 
 nie's looks. But now that you ask me," he con- 
 tinued with the most perfect ingenuousness, " she 
 is certainly very prepossessing — though I do not 
 Vnow that she could be called beautiful." 
 
 " But she is amiable, and good, and prepossess- 
 ing," said Miss Pinnock ; " and of course— of 
 
 course you are very fond of her you have 
 
 thought constantly of her dun-ng your cepara- 
 tion " 
 
 "Oh, constantly!" exclaimed Gu.?t,arus; "and 
 
 I feel convinced that she has thought incessantly 
 of me. Sho possesses such an aOTectiunate 
 heart!" 
 
 "And — and — you have corresponded — p«». 
 haps ?" said Miss Pmnock. " You— you " 
 
 Here her voice suddenly seemed to break down, 
 ns if it were all in a momovt stifled in gaspings. 
 She even appeared to stagger at the instant u 
 she walked. 
 
 "Good heavens. Miss Pinnock!" exclaimed 
 Gustavus, " what is the matter ?"— and stopping 
 short, he seized her hand. 
 
 By that movement he obtained a glimpse of her 
 countenance : the tears were trickling down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 "You are weeping, Miss Pinnock !— Oh, you 
 are weeping !" cried Gustavus, who was both be- 
 wildered and afllicted. "Emily— Miss Pinnock i 
 mean^pardon my boldness— but for God's sake 
 tell me what I have said or done to give yon 
 pain?" 
 
 He still retained her hand in his own : she 
 made but one slight effort to withdraw it — and 
 then she seemed to abandon it to him as that 
 effort wns ineffectual. Her countenance was bent 
 downward : but still Gustavus could sec that she 
 continued to weep— and passionately too— while 
 her bosom was convulsed with sobs, — that weep- 
 ing and those sobbings being altogether beyond 
 her power of control. 
 
 "Emily!" he exclaimed, "for heaven's sake 
 tell me what thus afflicts you ? Is it because I 
 must depart ? Oh ! but if you knew how much 
 the idea afflicts me likewise — how great is the 
 
 distress which the prospect excites Ob, Emily ! 
 
 you would not doubt my friendship!" 
 
 The quadroon girl suddenly withdrew her hand ; 
 and wiping her eyes with equal rapidity, she drew 
 herself up to her full height : she seemed all in a 
 moment to put on that dignity which belonged to 
 her disposition ; and bending the full power of her 
 superb dark eyes upon Gustavus, she said, " How 
 can you be afflicted to depart, when you love your 
 cousin Winifred — you are doubtless engaged to 
 her — and you will return to England to espouse 
 her ?" 
 
 Then all in a moment a veil fell from the eyea 
 of Gustavus Barrington : quick as the flash of 
 lightning illumines the recesses of a previously 
 pitch-dark cave, revealing all the features that 
 were unknown before, was the state of the youth's 
 own mind revealed unto himself. He compre- 
 hended that he loved the handsome quadroon ! 
 
 " No, Emily !" he exclaimed, " I am not pledged 
 to my cousin Winifred!— no word of love has 
 ever passed between us. It is only as a brother 
 might regard a pure sister that I look upon my 
 cousin. But Oh ! if I dared speak— Yes, yes, X 
 will speak! it is you whom I love, Emily!— you 
 only who can constitute my happiness !" 
 
 A half-subdued cry of joy, rich and melodious 
 in the fulness of the heart's gushing emotions, 
 escaped from the lips of the superbly handsome 
 quadroon; and the next instant she was folded in 
 the arms of Gustavus. She sank upon his breast 
 as if weighed down with the sense of happiness — 
 as if languid and half-fainting beneath the ecstatic 
 [wwer of her own feelings. And Gustavus presBed 
 hislipsto her's- and he covered her cheeks and 
 her hrow with kis3cs-nnd he strained her npain
 
 AfllfESj OB, BBAtJTT AND rLBASCBB. 
 
 127 
 
 and sjain to his breast. Tliose lips gave back the 
 kiss— long, delicious, and voluptuously tender: 
 those cheeks burnt and glowed beneath the other 
 kisses which he imprinted on them ; and as her 
 full bosom heaved against his chest, he could feel 
 the wild quick palpitations of her heart. 
 
 " Yes, Emily," he murmured. "I love you— 
 and you only !" 
 
 A long deep-drawn sigh of pleasure was the 
 only response which the benutiful quadroon could 
 give to this assurance ; for her heart was too full 
 of ecstatic emotions to enable her lips to frame 
 a single syllable. For some minutes Gustavus 
 thus retained her in his arms, until he suddenly 
 perceived some object moving amongst the trees 
 ».t a little distance : and then he relaxed his hold 
 upon her. She at once seemed to bo recalled to 
 her own self-possession ; and completely disen- 
 gaging herself from his embrace, she bent upon 
 him a look that was full of the deepest, most im- 
 passioned love— while her cheeks were still glow- 
 ing with blushes, and her bosom was still heaving 
 with the emotions that swelled within it. 
 
 He said nothing of having seen any ono 
 •mongst the trees : ho did not choose to alarm 
 or shock her by the intelligence that she had 
 possibly been observed when clasped in his arms. 
 Indeed, he himself speedily forgot the incident in 
 the enthusiasm with which he renewed the out- 
 pourings of his love. They walked on together — 
 she now leaning upon his arm, and drinking in all 
 the fond things to which in his youthful rapture 
 he was giving utterance. At length he exclaimed, 
 as if suddenly seized with perplexity and bewil- 
 derment, " But can it be possible that so much 
 happiness is a reality ? — or is it all a dream ? Tell 
 me, Emily— do you really love me ?" 
 
 " Yes, I love you, Gustavus," she answered, in 
 the golden melody of her voice : then suddenly 
 raising her countenance, which had hitherto been 
 at>ain cast down, she displayed it, all glowing with 
 the animation of joy, and love, and fondness, to 
 the view of her companion. " "Why should I 
 deal in any ridiculous affectations with you, after 
 the avowal which has come from your lips P No 
 — I will not. I will frankly and candidly reveal 
 all I have felt. The very first moment I beheld 
 you, it was not with indifference. I listened to 
 the story of your shipwreck ; and 1 was inspired 
 with an enthusiastic admiration for all that you 
 had done on that awful, that memorable occasion. 
 Days passed on— and 1 delighted to be your com- 
 panion. Y'our lofty and noble behaviour in re- 
 spect to the dead miser's gold enhanced the admi- 
 ration I already experienced for your character. 
 But it was not until within the hour that is now 
 passing, that I comprehended the real state of my 
 feelings. When however you spoke of departure 
 
 and of your cousin— Oh ! then But enough, 
 
 Gustavus! I love you — yes, I love you— I feel 
 that I could not live without you!" 
 
 "And I, dearest Emily," responded the enrap- 
 tared youth, " could not live without yo» .' Oh, 
 our separation shall not be long ! — not one mo- 
 ment longer than I can possibly help !" 
 
 " Separation f" tjaculated the quadro^jn, sud- 
 denly flinging a look of wild dismay upou her 
 lover. " You will not leave me, Gustavus \" 
 
 "Oh ! believe me, Emily," he cried, "it will go 
 to my heart to bid you fareweii even tot a few 
 
 weeks ! But 1 must return to England before I 
 dare hope for the crowning of my happiness. I 
 have duties to perform— sacred and solemn duties 
 —and these must be accomplished, even though 
 instead of a mere sacrifice of feelings it were the 
 sacrifice of life itself!" 
 
 "Oh, no!" she wildly and passionately ex- 
 claimed, "you must not leave me! Consider tho 
 perils of that frightful ocean from which you 
 have once so providentially escaped : it were mttd- 
 nes9, it were wickedness to daro them again ! No, 
 no — it must not be ! There is no sacrifice that I 
 would not make for you— nothiug you could ask 
 of me that I would not perform I— and I have a 
 right to expect tho same at your hands !" 
 
 " Good heavens, Emily!" exclaimed Gustavus, 
 infinitely distressed ; " would you have me aban- 
 don my aged grandsiro— my cousin who lany bo 
 steeped in poverty ■" 
 
 " No— I would not have you abandon them," 
 interjected Emily : " heaven forbid ! But by 
 means of correspondence and of trustworthy per- 
 sons, you can ett'ect on their behalf all that you 
 deem requisite to do and all that your present 
 wealth enables you to accomplish." 
 
 " And incur the risk of being taxed with the 
 blackest ingratitude towards those who love me 1" 
 exclaimed tho noble-minded youth ; " to be ac- 
 cused of having lost all love for the relations who 
 are dear to me, and to whom I know that I also 
 am most dear ! O Emily! You would not ask 
 mo to do all this ? You know that I shall hasten 
 to return to you ! My God, Emily ! can you 
 doubt it when I declare that you are dearer to 
 me than life itself? But love— oven the fondest 
 and the most devoted— has its duties to perform, 
 and must make its sacrifices- and this is now our 
 
 The beautiful quadroon gave no response : s'oo 
 reflected profoundly, and also with a deep melan- 
 choly, Gustavus watched her countenance with 
 tho utmost anxiety : it was a gloriously handsome 
 countenance ; and it went to his very soul to ho 
 compelled to say or do aught that could inflict 
 pain upon the possessor of such « face,— infinite 
 pain to use language or resolve upon any step 
 that might cause that bosom to swell with any 
 emotions that were not akin to happiness. But 
 the sense of duty was strong in the young man's 
 mind ; and he was resolved to perform it. Pas- 
 sionately and devotedly though he loved Emily 
 Pinnoek, yet was he determined to do violence to 
 his feelings rather than appear deficient in affec- 
 tion towards the grandsiro who had known so 
 many years of suffering, and tho cousin whose 
 sweetness of disposition, whose amiability, and 
 whose sisterly love he remembered so well. 
 
 " If it be necessary that you should undertake 
 this voyage," said Emily, at length breaking 
 silence, " it is not for me to dissuade you from it. 
 I know that you love mo, Gustavus— I judge of 
 your feelings by mine own. I have every fiith in 
 your constancy — your fidelitv — your honour. I 
 ought rather to admire you for the magnanimity 
 which temporarily snerifices the heart's feelings to 
 a sense of duty, than seem even for a single in- 
 stant to upbraid or reproach you. Go then, Gus- 
 tavus !— and when you return, you will find yojr 
 own Emily prepared to receive you with the mcitt 
 enthusiastic joy!"
 
 128 
 
 AGBBS; OE, BBAUTT AlID PLBASUBB. 
 
 " Oh, now you speak," exclaimed Gustavus, " in 
 a manner that is worthy of you !"— and again ho 
 folded her in his arms. " I will presently reveal 
 everything to your uncle— I will speak candidly to 
 him— I will tell him that we love— and I will ask 
 bis sanction to the institution of a solemn engage- 
 ment between us." 
 
 Emily — whose feelings again appeared to be 
 steeped in melting rapture and soft subdued de- 
 light, as her head reposed upon her lover's breast 
 — assented to the proposition he had just made; 
 and that assent was murmuringly given in the 
 melodious tones of her golden voice. Long they 
 wandered about the plantation: completely en. 
 grossed were they by the language, the feelings, 
 and the thoughts of love : and arm-in-arm they 
 returned at last to the house. It was however 
 now only two o'clock in the afternoon — the 
 hottest portion of the day ; and there was still a 
 considerable interval to the dinner-hour. Emily 
 bad some little household matters to attend to ; 
 and Gustavus found himself for awhile alone. He 
 then suddenly recollected that one of the objects 
 for which he bad walked forth— or at least in that 
 walk bad taken a particular direction along with 
 his companion— was not effected. He had not 
 proceeded to Mr. Hargrave's residence : the image 
 of the misanthrope, as well as everything that 
 concerned him, had completely slipped out of the 
 youth's mind. He felt that be was guilty of in- 
 gratitude or of negligence towards the individual 
 who had demonstrated so kind and generous an 
 interest on bis behalf, and to whom indeed he was 
 indebted for the fortune which be now possessed. 
 He accordingly resolved to repair the omission 
 with the least possible delay ; and he set off for 
 another long walk, again bending his steps in the 
 direction of the misanthrope's cottage. 
 
 While upon his way he reflected upon every- 
 thing that had taken place between Emily Pin- 
 nock and himself. He felt bow deeply, how in- 
 tensely, how passionately he loved her ; and there 
 was an indescribable luxury of feeling in the 
 knowledge that be was beloved in return. It 
 seemed to him as if he still felt her glowing cheek 
 pressing against his own— that bis lips were still 
 fastened to ber's— that he was still drinking in the 
 •weets of her fragrant breath— that her large dark 
 eyes were still gazing up at him with the devoted- 
 ness, the fondness, and the adoration of her soul — 
 and that her bosom, still resting against his breast, 
 enabled bim to tell the quiok pulsations of her 
 heart. Oh, to possess such a being — to call her 
 his wife— to live for her alone — to know that she 
 lived for him only— to be enabled to gaze upon 
 her with the pride of an admiring husband,— this 
 was a prospect fraught with indescribable happi- 
 ness for the contemplation of the enthusiastic 
 Gustavus Harrington ! 
 
 He had proceeded to a considerable distance, 
 I and he was in the midst of his delicious reverie, 
 when ho suddenly became aware that some one was 
 approaching ; and the next moment he recognised 
 Mr. Hargrave. The misanthrope was dressed in 
 precisely the same style as on former occasions 
 when Gustavus had seen him : bis apparel, which 
 once had been good, was shabby, almost thread- 
 bare; and his whole appearance denoted, if not 
 actanl slovenliness, at least a considerable indif- 
 ference to the niceties of tha toilet. His demea. 
 
 nour was grave and serious : but Gustavus couid 
 not help noticing somethiog, which indeed bad 
 struck him on the occasion when they met by the 
 side of the drowned miser's corpse — namely, that 
 there was a certain gentility of manner about the 
 misanthrope, which seemed to speak of far better 
 times and of a period when be moved in auite 
 another sphere. 
 
 " I was proceeding to your residence, sir," said 
 Gustavus, hastening forward and seizing the mis- 
 anthrope by the hand, " to convey to you the as- 
 surance of my illimitable gratitude for the good- 
 ness and the generosity you have displayed 
 towards me." 
 
 "Enough, young man! — enough!" said Mr. 
 Hargrave curtly, if not petulantly. " Best assured 
 that if my only motive bad been to be thanked, 
 you would have stood but little chance of any in- 
 tervention on my part." 
 
 " And yet, my dear sir," responded Gustavus, 
 " such conduct as that which you have shown to- 
 wards me, cannot be repaid by the gratitude of a 
 a lifetime !" 
 
 " After all," said Mr. Hargrave, in a more 
 courteous tone, " it is as well to possess a grateful 
 heart. Gratitude is a flower that can seldom 
 thrive amidst those evil passions and feelings 
 which are the weeds of the soul. And now what 
 do you purpose to do P Do you mean to tarry in 
 Jamaica? or do you intend to return speedily to 
 your own native land ?" 
 
 " I propose to leave Jamaica in the course of a 
 few days," answered young Barrington ; " and if 
 it be possible that I can do augbt for you in any 
 part of the world, no matter bow remote " 
 
 " Nothing ! nothing I" interrupted Mr. Har- 
 grave. "No one living can do anything to serve 
 me ! But listen to me, young man :"— and the 
 misanthrope's dark eyes were fixed keenly and 
 piercingly upon Gustavus. " I will not insult you 
 by the supposition that you are capable of reward- 
 ing Mr. Finnock's kind hospitality with so black 
 
 an ingratitude No, no 1 you cannot : for you 
 
 have already proved to me that you possess a 
 
 grateful heart and besides, a young man who 
 
 has displayed so many noble qualities and lofty 
 attributes as you have done, rises far above all 
 such suspicion." 
 
 " Good heavens ! what mean you, Mr. Har- 
 gravS ?" asked Gustavus, perplexed and even 
 frightened by the strange language thus addressed 
 to him. 
 
 " Tou are young," continued the misanthrope: | 
 " your age cannot exceed twenty ; and youth, even 
 though endowed with the noblest qualities, is apt 
 to be precipitate, thoughtless, and impulsive. 
 The youthful heart obeys its own inclinations ' 
 without thinking of the consequences : the happi- | 
 ness of the day is sufficient for it, without dream- 
 ing of what the morrow may bring forth. Be- 
 ware, therefore, young man, bow you suffer your- 
 self to be hurried along by the sweeping current 
 of a rapidly formed passion !— but still more must | 
 you beware how you tutor an innocent and artless 
 girl to love you— you who are, as you assure me, ' 
 on the eve of your departure from an island to 
 which you may perchance never return !" j 
 
 Gustavus could no longer doubt the point of J 
 Mr. Hargrave's allusion; and now be suddenly ' 
 recollected something which for houri past he had I
 
 AGNES; OE, BEAUTY AND PLEAStTEE. 
 
 '1'^ 
 
 Mi 
 
 forgotten,— tLat object moving amongst the trees 
 •t a distance when he was retaining Emily Pin- 
 oock in his arms. Tbe colour mounted, vivid and 
 glowing, to the youth's cheeks ; and he said in a 
 hesitating and faltering tone, " I know what you 
 mean, Mr. Hargrave— you saw eomethinj that 
 took place — you were amongst the trees '* 
 
 " And what am I to understand," demanded 
 the misanthrope, " by this present confusion on 
 your part ? Is it possible that yoa have whis- 
 pered guilefully in the ear of the oerchsmt's 
 daughter ?" 
 
 " Guilefully ?" echoed Gustavus. "No, sir! I 
 »m incapable of it !"— and he now looked Mr. 
 Hargrave fully and frankly in the face. "I con- 
 fess that I love Mr. Pinnock's niece — she loves 
 me in return— she has consented that I shall pro- 
 ceed to England— I have promised to come back 
 so Kon as certain affairs shall have been duly 
 Ko. 17. — Aoiisi. 
 
 settled— and moreover I intend this very day to 
 speak to Mr. Pinnock upon the subject." 
 
 " 'Tis well, young man," said the misanthrope i 
 " your intentions are honourable— you will appeal 
 to the young lady's father — and it is suQlcient. 
 Mr. Pinnock loves his daughter — though unao- 
 knowledged as such " 
 
 " Ah ! what mean you ?" ejaculated Gustarus, 
 who had been wondering why the misanthrope 
 spoke of them as father and daughter, when the 
 vouth himself looked upon them only as uncle 
 and niece. 
 
 " Ob, it is scarcely a secret," ejaculated Mr. 
 Hargrave : " or else perhaps I should be the last 
 man in existence to betray the mystery if it were 
 one worth keeping. But all tbe neighbourhood 
 knows the real truth ; and Mr. Pinnock himself 
 will most probably reveal it to you when you are 
 presently alone together. He has never been
 
 130 AONES; 
 
 mnrried— and that is perhaps all the greater | 
 reasoD why he should not be a saint. He has his 
 failings and his weaknesses a? well as other men. 
 There was a mulatto womau on hia estate; and 
 she became the mother of n child, of whom Mr. | 
 Pinnock was the father. That child has grown 
 up into the Emily whom you know and love, i 
 iter mother, as J have heard, died in giving her 
 birth ; and Mr. Pinnock reared the oQspring of 
 this amour. But partly from motives of delicacy 
 towards the world — partly because it is no uncom- 
 mon thing amongst the wealthy planters of this 
 island— and partly, perhaps, to save the feelings j 
 of the girl herself by keeping her in ignorance of 
 her real parentage, — ho styled her his niece. | 
 But whether she be still in ignorance " [ 
 
 "Oh, yes! I am convinced she is!" erclaimed 
 Gustavus, astonished at all he had hoard. " She 
 is herself too candid and conliding to suspect tlie 
 truth of any tale which may have been lold her 
 by one whom she lores, reveres, and iocks up to : 
 she is too artlosf, cjii vacoceni to fathom the 
 mysteries " 
 
 " Well," interrupted Mr. Hargrave, " it is not 
 of the slightest cousequence : the girl is what she 
 is, no matter what her parentage may have been. 
 But still I thought it better that you should know 
 the truth at once in respect to Emily Piunock. — 
 And now, young man, I have only one more word 
 to say. Let me see you again, if^erfectly con- 
 yenient to yourself, bjl'orc you leave the island." 
 
 Having thus spoken, Mr. Hargrave turned ab- 
 ruptly away; and Gustavus for some minutes fol- 
 lowed bim with his eyes, uutil lio disappeared be- 
 hind some neighbouring trees. 
 
 "Singular being that he is!" thought the youth 
 Co himself, as he began to retrace his steps home- 
 ward. " He manifests the utmost interest in me 
 —his heart has not been altogether spoiled by the 
 calamities which may have seared it us if with the 
 blasting lightning : for calamities they must have 
 been which made him what ha id!— of crunes he 
 must ever have been incapable ! And as for the 
 .ale that ho has lold me in reference to the birth 
 of my beloved Emily, 'tis not of the slightest 
 consequence. Legitimate or illegitimate — the 
 daughter or the niece of Mr. Pinnock— she is still 
 the same beautiful, charming, and adorable object. 
 Ob, I love you, Emily ! I love you !" 
 
 Guslavua reached Mount Picasant just at the 
 very moment that Mr. Piunock was alighting 
 from his ctiaise ; and the worthy merchant ex- 
 claimed, " I have not been able to effect to-day a 
 sale for your gold. But I am promised an excel- 
 lent bargain for to-morrow. Iiere ! take the 
 box— and lock it up in the cupboard in your 
 chamber, I have brought it home again fur secu- 
 rity's sake : I would not leave it at my counting- 
 kouse— and your own room is the most secure be- 
 neath thii roof." 
 
 Emily Pinuoct had como forth from the open 
 casement of the druwiiig-room to welcome the 
 merchant's return ; and Gustavus bent upon her 
 a siguificaut look, as much as to imply that in a 
 very short time be nould avow his love and make 
 known his suit to him who afier all must be tlie 
 arbiter of (heir destinies. He took the box, has- 
 tened to Iris chauiber, and secured it in the cup- 
 board, lie then proceeded to the drawing-room; 
 and shortly aftertvards dinner was announced. 
 
 ID PLKASCEE. 
 
 During the meal both Gustavus and Emily wore 
 somewhat embarrassed and silent : but Mr. Pin- 
 nock did not perceive that there was anything 
 peculiar in their manner ; {or though acute 
 enough in business-affairs, he was slow to recog- 
 nise the indications of love; and moreover when 
 others were silent, ho was accustomed to chatter 
 away with a volubility wliich might make up fur 
 any deficiency on the part of Lis cimpanions' 
 tongues. Shortly after the dessert was placed 
 upon the tabic, Emily rose and quitted the room; 
 — and now came the moment at which Gus- 
 tavus had resolved to open his mind to the mer> 
 chant. 
 
 The youth could not endure suspense ; and be 
 therefore speedily entered upon the topic. At 
 first be proceeded Uuenlly enough, while eipati- 
 ating upon the many merits of Emily Pinnock : 
 but when he touched upon the avowal and the 
 entreaty to which this preface was to lead, he bo- 
 came confused- he stammered, hesitated, and fal- 
 tered—he blushed and grew nervous,— and all the 
 more so when he perceived that Mr. Pinnock was 
 staring at him with the open eyes and open mouth 
 of amazement. For it had never once entered the 
 worthy man's head that there was any probabilitv 
 of the dashing young sailor falling in love with the 
 quadroon girl his daughter. 
 
 "You u.ean me to understand, then," at length 
 said Mr. Pinnock, finding how Gustavus was 
 floundering amidst a mass of verbiage from which 
 he could not disentangle himself — and it was with 
 a half serious, half good-humoured smile that he 
 
 to understand, then, that my Emily's black eyes 
 have stolen away your heart ? AVhy, you have 
 not known each other quite ton days yet !" 
 
 " I have already assured you, my dear sir," in- 
 terjected Gustavus, " that I know Miss Piunock 
 as well as if we had been acquainted as many 
 yearf. I beseech " 
 
 " Have you spoken to the girl herself upon the 
 subject ?" asked Mr. Piunock. 
 
 '* I have," was the reply : " and were it not for 
 the happiness of having experienced a favourable 
 answer, i siiould not now be appealing fur your 
 assent." 
 
 " The deuce ! Tais grows more and more seri- 
 ous," ejaculated the merchant, sending forth a long 
 whiff of smoko. " Well, but you are both young 
 — though truly I can have no objection to the for- 
 mation of an engagement for you know my 
 
 opinion of you— you are an honourable young 
 man " 
 
 "Oh, then you have given your astent!" ex- 
 claimed the overjoyed Gustavus, seizing the mer- 
 chant's hand and pressing it with the most grate- 
 ful fervour. 
 
 " Why, it appears," said Mr. Pinnock, smiling, 
 " that you have both anticipated my consent by 
 agreeing on the subject between yourselves. What 
 alternalivo have you loft me except to agree also ? 
 But there is one thing of which J must inform 
 you," he continued, his countenance becoming 
 serious: "and mind, if you think it constitutes 
 any harrier or any prejudice, you shall be free to 
 recall your proposals " 
 
 " I know, sir, to what you nllurle," said Gus- 
 tavus : " and so far from entertaining any prejudice 
 on the subject "
 
 AGXEB; OE, BEAniT AND PLEASUEB. 
 
 131 
 
 " Ab ! jou know it ?" cried Mr. Pinnock. " But 
 Emily herself " 
 
 " Is undoubtedly ignorant on the point," «t 
 once added young Barringtcn. " The tale reached 
 
 " Oh ! I daro say," interrupted the merchant, 
 " it is no very great secret after nil ! The niggers 
 know it to a ninn— and doubtless you have been 
 chatting with them — and they are fond of a 
 gossip. But you tell me that you mean to return 
 to England without delay— that you wish to form 
 this engagement, and that you will come back 
 speedily to fulfil it?" 
 
 "Such 19 my intention," answered Gustavus, 
 Ilia heart beating with rapture at having obtained 
 the merchant's assent to his suit for the beautiful 
 Emily's hand. 
 
 There was some little more conversation on the 
 subject : but Gustavus did not think it necessary 
 to inform Mr. Pinnock that ho had received the 
 iolelligence relative to the quadroon's parentage 
 from Mr, Hargrave. It was a point on which he 
 delicately forbore from expatiating, not only on 
 account of the 8ubj;'Ct itself, but likewise because 
 he did not wish it to be thought that Mr. Har- 
 grave, whose intentions were evidently must kind 
 and generous towards him, had descended to mere 
 gossip or tittle-tattle. 
 
 And cow Gustavus was burning with a joyous 
 desire to acquaint Emily with the result of his 
 appeal to Mr. Pinnock ; and as he suddenly caught 
 a glimpse of a white drapery at a little distance 
 in the garden, he started and looked eagerly forth 
 from the easement. The worthy merchant com- 
 prehended what was passing in the youth's mind 
 and what thus excited him ; and with a gay laugh, 
 he said, " Go, my dear boy— fly to your beloved. 
 I know that you long to be with her; and it 
 would be cruel to detain you." 
 
 Forth from the open casement did Gustavus 
 accordingly speed; and in a few moments he was 
 with the quadroon girl. With fervid rapture did 
 he strain her in his arms ; and she therefore com- 
 prehended that her uncle (as she regarded Mr. 
 Pinnock) had given an affirmative response. Again 
 she clung to her lover with all that impassioned 
 fondness which she had previously displayed 
 towards bim ; her beautifully modelled arms — 
 warm, plump, and firm, but with a skin of velvet 
 softness— were thrown about his neck ; and the 
 ardour with which his own caresses were bestowed, 
 was equalled by that with which Emily's moist red 
 lips gave them back. 
 
 " You are mine, dearest Emily ! I am your's !" 
 exclaimed Gustavus: "your uncle has given his 
 consent — the engagement exists between us — and 
 we have confirmed it with our kisses ! Oh, a few 
 weeks will soon pass! — and on my return from 
 England I shall conduct you to the altar !" 
 
 "Then you are decideil upon undertaking this 
 voyage, Gustavus F" said the quidroon, who was 
 now walking slowly by his sidv; and her large 
 luminous eyes, glancing up at his countenance for 
 o moment, were immediately afterwards bent 
 downward. 
 
 "Dearest, dearest Emily! have I not already 
 assured jou," asked Gu'tavu?, '■ that it is a duly 
 paramount above all other considerations P— and 
 have not you yielded your assent that this duly 
 must be accompUshed f" 
 
 rmuringly replied : "it must be 
 speak no more upon the sub- 
 
 " Yes," she i 
 so and let 
 
 "Only one single word, dearest Emily! — only 
 I one word more upon that topic !" exclaimed the 
 1 young man. *' To.morrow your uncle will con- 
 vert my ore and gold dust into money ; and then 
 I will I lose not a moment in taking my departure, 
 
 so that I may return all the more speedily " 
 
 But at this instant Gustavus stopped short; 
 for some white dropery at a little distance amongst 
 the shrubs of the garden, caught the eyes of him- 
 self and Emily, — the latter at once saying, 
 ' "Hush!" 
 
 Although the evening was row far advanced, 
 1 yet the heavens were beautifully clear ; all sur- 
 rounding objects wero distinctly visible ; and 
 moderate-sized print might have been read. The 
 white drapery was advancing; and in a few mo- 
 ments its wearer revealed himself in the person of 
 the colossal blaek who bore the name of Nelson. 
 j Again, as on the former occasion when they met 
 ! this man, did Emily shrink towards her lover and 
 cling to his arm as she took it ; and such wero the 
 ■ suspicion and mistrust which Gustavus enter- 
 ' tained for the hideous negro, that he held himself 
 in readiness to defend his well-beloved against an 
 attack which he could not help thinking the man 
 was quite capable of making. But Nelson only 
 bestowed a respectful salutation on both ; and he 
 continued his way towards the villa, bearing in his 
 , hand a letter, which was evidently the cause of his 
 j presence there on the occasion. Indeed, wo may 
 as well observe that it was some friendly eomrau- 
 nieation from Mr. Thurlow, Nelson's master on 
 the neighbouring estate, to Mr. Pinnock. 
 
 "That horrible negro always terrifies you, 
 j dearest Emily," said Gustavus, when Nelson had 
 I disappeared from their view. "For heaven's sake 
 1 be careful when I am away from you! — do not 
 ! wander forth alono in unfrequented places! You 
 promise me this, dear Emily ?" 
 
 " I promise you, Gustavus," she replied. 
 They continued to roam together in the garden 
 until beyond the hour when coffee was usu illy 
 served up; and on returning to the apartment 
 in which Mr. Pinnock was still seated with his 
 wine end cigars, that genlloman good-naturedly 
 and gaily exclaimed, " Oa ray soul, you will make 
 a handsome couple 1" 
 
 Gustavus gazed with enthusiastic fondness upon 
 the beautiful quadroon, through the duskiness of 
 whose complexion the warm blood mantled richly, 
 while her looks were bent down in modest confu- 
 sion at Mr. Pinnock's remark. 
 
 At length, Emily's usual hour for retiring 
 arrived: but Gustavus sat up a little longer with 
 Mr. Pinnock, who was fond of a gossip with a 
 companion. At lust however young Barrington 
 sought his own chamber ; and previous to disap- 
 parelling himself, he emptied his pockets, as was 
 his wont,— depositing their contents .upon the 
 drawers, and placing his clothes outside the door 
 to bo brushed by the domestics in the morning. 
 Amongst those contents of his pockets was the key 
 of the cupboard in which he had secured the gold ! 
 and Gustavus could not help taking a peep at hie 
 treasure before he retired tu rest ; for he thought 
 within himself how much happiness the ] 
 of that wealth would enable him to infuse i
 
 132 
 
 AGNES; OE, EEACIY AND rLBASUEE. 
 
 minds of his aged grandsire and bis cousin Wini 
 fred, when in a short time he should again be 
 with them in Lundon. 
 
 Haling re-locked the door of the cupboard 
 and laid the key upon the drawers, Gustavus 
 sought bis couch. The bliss which filled bis soul 
 kept him for some while awake : but at length 
 slumber stole upon bis eyes — and then in a short 
 time he slept profoundly. When bo awoke in the 
 morning, it occurred to him that there was a cer- 
 tain grateful freshness in the atmosphere of bis 
 chamber which was not usual until he opened the 
 window, as he was in the habit of doing every 
 morning the instant be stepped out of bed. But 
 as be now descended from bis couch, he perceived 
 that the window was open ; and yet he felt per- 
 fectly confident that it was closed ere he sought 
 
 window, opening inward like a pair of folding- 
 doors ; and it struck him that the fastening 
 having been negligently secured, must have given 
 way during the night. Attaching no further im. 
 portance to the circumstance, Gustavus proceeded 
 to perform his ablutions and bis toilet with all 
 possible haste ; for he had caught a glimpse of 
 Emily's white drapery in the garden, and be 
 was in a hurry to join her. In a quarter 
 of an hour he was descending the stairs ; and 
 then in a few moments he was by her side. 
 Pervid was the embrace in which he strained her ; 
 and the beautiful quadroon girl seemed to cling to 
 him more lovingly, if possible, than ever. They 
 walked for a little while until the breakfast, which 
 they were accustomed to take alone together, was 
 announced to be in readiness : and then they en- 
 tered the villa. It was not until they had finished 
 that Mr. Pinnock made his appearance ; and as he 
 was always late in the morning, his repast was 
 quickly partaken of. The chaise drove round to 
 tbe door; and the merchant, rising from the table, 
 exclaimed with a smile, as be addressed himself to 
 Gustavus, but glanced towards Emily, " I suppose 
 it is of no use, my young friend, to ask you to 
 accompany me ? You are better engaged." 
 
 "Yes — with your permission," replied Gus- 
 tavus, blushing with youthful confusion. " I would 
 rather remain at Mount Pleasant." 
 
 " Well, then, farewell to both of you till din- 
 ner-time!" cried Mr. Pinnock ; and he was speed- 
 ing forth through the open casement to enter his 
 chaise, when suddenly recollecting something, he 
 eicloimed, " Ah ! I had well-nigh forgotten the 
 box of gold !" 
 
 "And I had totally forgotten it!" cried Gus- 
 tavus, with a smile. "I will fetch it this in. 
 
 He hastened out of the room — rushed up the 
 stairs— and burst precipitately into his own cham- 
 her ; for he knew that Mr. Pinnock was in a hurry 
 and must not be kept waiting. In a moment the 
 key was taken from his pocket : the next moment 
 it turned in the lock ; and the door of the cup- 
 board was opened. 13ut Gustavus started, while 
 a cry of affright and amazement burst from his 
 lips: fur tbe box of gold was gone ! He passed 
 bis band before bis eyes : be fancied that a mist 
 must be obscuring his vision. Ho looked again : 
 but no ! — there was nothing upon the shelf!— it 
 was empty I and so was every other sbelt in that 
 cupboard : for the youth had used it only for tbe 
 
 one occasion of placing tbe box therein :— his own [ 
 effects were all deposited in the chest of drawers. 
 
 With another cry— wilder and more penetrat- 
 ing than the former one — Gustavus rushed dona 
 the stairs, fevered in brain and frantic in looks. 
 
 " Good God ! what has happened ?" exclaimed 
 Mr. Pinnock, the instant tbe youth burst into the 
 parlour. 
 
 "Oh! what is the matter?" asked Emily, 
 bounding towards him with affright depicted on 
 her beautiful features. 
 
 " The box has disappeared !" gasped forth Gus- 
 tavus : " the gold is gone !" 
 
 A cry burst from tbe lips of the quadroon; and 
 an ejaculation of astonishment from those of Mr. 
 Pinnock. 
 
 " Ah, I recollect !" suddenly exclaimed Gus- 
 tavus, who was terribly excited. "That window 
 which I found open ! Oh ! —and that villanous- 
 looking negro! Yes, yes!— it is all too clear! 
 He must have beard me speak of the gold last 
 evening ! I see it all ! Nelson is the rob- 
 ber!" 
 
 "Yes— Nelson must be the thief!" hastily 
 ejaculated Emily: and then bursting into a flood 
 of tears, she exclaimed, " Oh, my poor Gus- 
 
 " But this must be at once investigated !" cried 
 Mr. Pinnock, almost as much excited as the two 
 lovers themselves: "it is most serious! it is most 
 abominable! Come— let us see !" 
 
 Thus speaking, he rushed from the room, and 
 sprang up the staircase towards the youth's cham- 
 ber, — Gustavus himself and the beautiful qua- 
 droon girl closely following. The cupboard-door 
 stood wide open, as Barrington had just left it; 
 and all the shelves were empty. 
 
 "Why, what is this?" suddenly exclaimed 
 Emily : " a pane of glass has been cut out !" 
 
 Mr. Pinnock and Gustavus turned abruptly 
 towards tbe open casement ; and there, sure 
 enough, they beheld the cause of the quadroon's 
 ejaculation. The pane of glass which was nearest 
 to the handle of the contrivance for fastening the 
 window, had been abstracted ; and Gustavus ex- 
 claimed with passionate vehemence, " Yes— it is 
 but too evident ! The burglar entered my cham- 
 ber by tbe window ! — he must have stolen in while 
 I slept ! None other than the villanous negro 
 could have done it!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 FLOEIBEl'S NEW HOME. 
 
 TuE scene once more changes : the attention of 
 the reader must be brought back, across the wide 
 lantic, to the British metropolis. 
 It was the end of October— ten days after the 
 disappearance of Floribel from Sidney Villa; and 
 ve are about to peep into a splendily furnished 
 irawing-rootu at a house in May Fair. The house 
 tself was not largo — but it was commodious, and 
 fell-appointed in every respect. The apartment to 
 vhich we are introducing tbe reader showed that 
 10 expense hud been spared in fittiug it up in the 
 must sumptuuus style; and it mi;;ht be taken as a 
 specimen of the manner in which all tbe other
 
 OK, BEADTT AND PI.EA9URE. 
 
 133 
 
 rcomt in the habitation were furnished. The dra- 
 peries were of the most costly description : the 
 carpet was so thick that the delicate foot of a 
 female treading thereon would be completely con- 
 cealed in the pile. On the mantelpiece there was a 
 tplendid clock of or-molu, consisting of a group 
 of figures retaining the dial between them, — the 
 whole covered with an immense glass shade. The 
 paper of the walls was of scarlet and gold ; and 
 the hangings were to match. Massive marble 
 pedestals, elaborately sculptured, sustained vases 
 of alabaster, filled with flowers from Covent Gar- 
 den Market. 
 
 Upon a lounge, or demi-sofa, Floribcl was half, 
 reclining. It was about one in the afternoon ; and 
 she was still in her morning negligh. Her raven 
 black hair floated in massive tresses upon her 
 ahoulders and down her back : the French muslin 
 wrapper afforded something more than a glimpse 
 of the beauteous bosom over which it was but 
 lightly fastened. It defined all the expanding 
 richness of a form which still preserving a youth- 
 ful symmetry, nevertheless promised to be of 
 voluptuous luxuriance ; — and that glowing rich- 
 ness which we have previously described as charac- 
 terizing the whole person of Floribel, was now 
 more marked and impressive to the sense than 
 when we first beheld her at Sidney Villa- One 
 delicately-shaped foot, thrust into a light slipper, 
 peeped forth beneath the skirt of her drapery as 
 she thus half.reclined upon the sofa. 
 
 Upon an elegant little table of rosewood most 
 elaborately carved, stood a casket of jewels, which 
 a neatly dressed, handsome, and genteel-looking 
 lady's-maid, who was standing by, had but very 
 recently brought in ; and that it was a new gift 
 was likewise evident from the fact that Floribel 
 was attentively scrutinising each costly article that 
 the casket contained. In the midst of her occu- 
 pation, a parlour-maid— youthful, genteel, pretty, 
 and well-dressed, as was the other fenjale de- 
 pendant—entered the room, bearing a massive 
 silver salver containing decanters of wine, and a 
 silver filagree basket filled with cakes. In a word, 
 there was every evidence to denote that Floribel 
 was surrounded by all the luxuries and comforts 
 that money could purchase,— magnificent fur- 
 niture and costly jewels, delicacies for the table, 
 and servants to anticipate her slightest wish. 
 
 But the Hon. Theodore Clifi'ord was not there. 
 And was Floribel completely happy ? — was perfect 
 felicity at the bottom of that almost childish de- 
 light with which she first contemplated jewel after 
 jewel and gem after gem— or of that coquettish 
 look with which she placed a wreath of pearls upon 
 the raven darkness of her hair, and flung her re- 
 gards upon her maid as if to inquire how the or- 
 naments became her p The maid was of course in 
 raptures— subdued only by the respect which she 
 observed towards her mistress — at the costly ob- 
 jects which one after another Floribel drew forth 
 from the casket; and the young lady's vanity was 
 infinitely flattered by the well-turned compliments 
 which her abigail continued to pay her. And with 
 her pride thus flattered with the means of embel- 
 lishing that really magnificent beauty of which she 
 was so fully conscious, and of which she might be 
 pardoned for being proud, was Floribel happy ? If 
 •be were, why was it that every now and then the 
 lips which Bmiled as the eyes dwelt upon the con- 
 
 tents of the casket, were for a moment compressed 
 as if to keep down a sigh ? Why was it tnat ever 
 and anon a shade of pensiveness came over the 
 young lady's features, and abstraction succeeded 
 to the delight with which she gazed upon lewels 
 and gems, — an abstraction which showed that her 
 thoughts were silently wandering elsewhere until 
 she suddenly awoke as it were from her reverie 
 with a start, and spoke in a gay voice as if to con- 
 vince her domestics that gaiety was the sole and 
 unquestioned occupant of her heart I 
 
 " Put down the tray upon another table. Alice," 
 said Floribel, thus addressing the parlour-maid : 
 then again turning to the lady's-maid, she asked, 
 " Are not these things beautiful, Catharine?" 
 
 " Beautiful, ma'am !" responded the abigail. 
 "And everything chosen with such taste ! avory- 
 thing so well suited to your particular stylo of 
 beauty!" 
 
 "You flatter me, Catharine!" said Floribel, 
 seeming to smile deprecatingly, but in reality 
 vrell pleased at the incense of adulation which was 
 ofi'ered up to her. 
 
 " I only meant to speak the truth, ma'am,' 
 replied the lady's-maid. " I hope I do njS givo 
 offence by remarking that Mr. Clifford displays 
 the most excellent taste ?" 
 
 " Ob, no ! praise my husband as much as you 
 like!" cried Floribel: "it is very different from 
 praising rae !" 
 
 " Pardon me for adding, ma'am," said Catha- 
 
 rine, " that Mr. Clifford's taste displays itself in 
 
 ything — not merely in the selection of gems, 
 
 in the choice of her who is best fitted to wear 
 
 them." 
 
 What ! another compliment ?" cried Floribel, 
 laughing in a manner which displayed the two 
 of her brilliant teeth, pure and without blem- 
 s stainless ivory. " You are really incorrigi- 
 But yet in everything you say in respect to 
 Mr. Clifford's tastes, you are perfectly right : it is 
 really exquisite! and the promptitude with which 
 he does everything is not less remarkable ! This 
 house taken, as one may say, all in an hour, and 
 fitted up from floor to roof in three short days !— it 
 1 if he worked miracles with Aladdin's lamp !" 
 There are certain inspirations," said Catha- 
 rine, " which always make a man act as if ho were 
 ;ising magical powers;- and this is the inspi- 
 ration of love," she added timidly, as if she feared 
 that she might seem too bold in her discourse. 
 
 " Yes, love !" said Floribel, slowly throwing 
 herself back against the cushions of the sofa, and 
 appearing to concentrate all her feelings in the 
 luxurious sense of love. " That sentiment, as you 
 have justly observed, Catharine, works marvels. 
 What has not man achieved for the object of his 
 love?— and what likewise has he not sacriliced ? 
 To love may be attributed many of the proofs of 
 most gigantic strength, as well as many of the 
 evidences of the most pitiable weakness, associated 
 
 ith 
 
 am," said Catharine, 
 
 "All this is t 
 though for an instant she looked somewhat bewil- 
 dered at the high-flown strain in which her mis- 
 tress was speaking. " If I should not be thought 
 too bold, I should venture to remark that you, 
 ma'am, ought to be completely happy: fur the 
 Hon. Mr. Clifford appears determined that you 
 shall want for nothing."
 
 134. 
 
 !; OE, BEAUTT AHD PLEASrBB. 
 
 "Oh, yes! I am completely happv," exclaimed 
 Floribel : but yet it was with a species of e~ 
 though scnrccly perceptible, that she gayo vei 
 the ejaculation. " Eow could I be otherwise ? My 
 husband, as you say, surrounds me with all I 
 wish ; and my least wants are anticipated." 
 
 " And then, too," added Catharine, " Mr. Clif- 
 ford belongs to one of the noblest families, 
 course, ma'am, you will soon be introduced — 
 
 " Ob, yes, yes !" exclaimed Floribel, snatching 
 up one of the jewels aHd regarding it with every 
 appearance of the most earnest attention. " Of 
 course, as the marriage took place clandestinely, 
 Mr. Clifford has to prepare the way with his 
 
 family; but in a short time, no doubt Ah, 
 
 what a beautiful rubv, Catharine ! And what 
 pearb ! Look, Alice ! You need not be afraid to 
 approach:" for the parlour-maid was standing at 
 a respectful distance, and yet straining her eyes to 
 catch a glimpse of the costly contents of the cas- 
 ket. 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am !" sho exclaimed, hasten- 
 ing forward to gratify her curiosity. " Oh, what 
 beautiful things ! How " 
 
 And she stopped suddenly short. Floribel 
 looked at her, and asked with n half.smile, as if 
 she penetrated her thoughts, "What were you 
 going to say ? Speak fearlessly." 
 
 " I was going to say, ma'am," replied Alice 
 bashfully, and with more real sincerity than the 
 more worldly-minded and experienced Catharine 
 had been inspired with in her flatteries, — " I was 
 going to say, ma'am, how dearly Mr. Clifford 
 must love you to give you such beautiful things !" 
 
 " Yes— to be sure ! ho adores me ! I know he 
 does!" said Floribel. "There is every proof of 
 it! It is true he cannot be always here, because 
 until he breaks the marriage to his father Lord 
 Windermere " 
 
 At this moment the door opened ; and a middle- 
 aged, sedate, respectable-looking man— somewhat 
 florid of countenance, and inclined to corpulence 
 — dressed in a suit of black, with a white neck- 
 cloth, and linen of snowy purity— entered the 
 room. This individual fllled'the united posts of 
 steward and butler. He bowed respectfully, and 
 ssid, "If you please, ma'am, I have just com- 
 pleted the arrangement of the cellars. The cham- 
 pagne and hock which came last evening, have all 
 been stowed away. Here is a list, ma'am, of the 
 wines, which my master ordered me to give you ; 
 and here is the wine-mercbant's list, that in 
 case you should choose to make any addition to the 
 
 " if o, Bateman," said Floribel. " I think in all 
 conscience there is sufficient according to your 
 own list! Eighty dozen of wine!— and I who 
 scarcely ever touch it !" 
 
 " Permit me to observe, ma'am," said Bateman, 
 with another bow, " that when you begin to give 
 balls and parties, the wine soon goes ; and as there 
 is still plenty of room in the cellar " 
 
 "Eeally, Bateman," interrupted Floribel, with 
 an air of languid fatigue, " you had better dpeak 
 to your master on the subject. He knows more 
 about it than I." 
 
 " My master's instructions are, ma'am," re- 
 joined the steward, " that I ehould take my orders 
 :rom you in all things." 
 
 ".A.h, well !' said Floribel, "it is very kind and 
 
 very considerate ! What wero you going U tell 
 me?" 
 
 " That there is still plenty of room in the 
 cellar, uia'am," responded Bateman ; " and if you 
 will condescend to glance at the wine.merchant'a 
 list, you will see, ma'am, that I have made pencil 
 marks against a few sorts that with all due de- 
 ference you ought, ma'am, to have. I would sug- 
 eest, for instance, twelve dozen of sparkling 
 Moselle : 'lis lighter than Champagne, and more 
 fitted for supper.parties. Then there is Chablis 
 — excellent with oysters. Sir dozen I have 
 marked " 
 
 "I see," said Floribel: "and there are half-a- 
 dozen others. Well, you had better order them ; 
 and then the collar will bo complete.— There u 
 nothing like having one's arrangements eifeotive 
 at the outset," added Floribel, thus addressing 
 herself to Catharine as Bateman bowed and 
 quitted the room. 
 
 " Every incident proves, ma'am," responded the 
 lady's-maid, " how determined Mr. Clifford is that 
 you shall want for nothing, and that when you 
 begin to receive company your table shall be tha 
 envy of all your guests." 
 
 "■ True !" said Floribel. " A husband'a lore 
 displays itself in these attentions to the material 
 elements of comfort and happiness. Ob, yes ! ha 
 loves me very much !" 
 
 But here again we pause to ask whether Flo. 
 ribel was altogether happy ? Perhaps Catharine 
 — who was a very keen observer — might have 
 fancied that her mistress strained and strove 
 somewhat to persuade herself that she veritably 
 enjoyed a happiness without a drawback, — or at 
 least to reason herself into the belief that she 
 our^ht to experience it, though there might be a 
 lurking sense in her' mind that some element to 
 render that happiness complete was wanting. Had 
 Floribel been more a woman of the world, she 
 would not have talked so much to her maid of 
 her husband's love : she would not in the presence 
 of witnesses have endeavoured to find so many 
 proofs of it in all the circumstances by which sho 
 was surrounded ; — much less would she have 
 striven to elicit from the lips of others so many 
 assurances to corroborate the very thing of which 
 she was endeavouring to persuade herself. 
 
 Again the door opened; and a groom in a vefj 
 handsome livery made his appearance. 
 
 " You have taken the note, George ?" said 
 Floribel, as the colour went and came in rapid 
 transitions upon her countenance. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," was the reply. " I took a cab, 
 according to your orders ; and 1 was not long iu 
 reaching Sidney Villa." 
 
 •' And whom did you see ?" inquired Floribel 
 quickly, at the same time vainly endeavouring to 
 conceal the tremulousness which pervaded her en- 
 tire form. 
 
 " First of all, ma'am," replied the groom, " I 
 saw a female— the housekeeper I should mp- 
 
 "A!i! E;iehel doubtless?" ejaculated Floribel, 
 her heart lluttering more and more. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am— that was the name: I beard 
 Miss Evelyn call her by it." 
 
 " Ah ! then you saw my cousin ? you saw Miss 
 Evelyn ?" said Floribel eagerly. 
 
 " The young lady came out directly the house-
 
 AGNES ; on, BEAUTT AND PLEA3UKE. 
 
 135 
 
 keeper went ia to say that Mrs. CuJTord's servant 
 bad arrived." 
 
 "Tben you gave her the note?" 
 
 *■ Yea — I gave Miss Evelyo the note, ma'am,'* 
 
 "And what then? Tell me what followed?" 
 cried Floribel with much emotion : " tell me 
 ©vervH'ing !" 
 
 " "Why, ma'am, then"— and the groom liesitated. 
 
 "Speak, speak!" exclaimed Floribel. "What 
 happened, I ask ? I command you to tell me !" 
 
 " Why, ma*am, Miss Evelyn burst into tears of 
 joy; and — aud— sho almost fainted." 
 
 "Dear Agnes!" murmured Floribel; and the 
 tears started forth from her own eyes. But in- 
 stantaneously dashing them away, she said, " And 
 Miss Evelyn read the note ?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," rejoined the groom; "and she 
 said that she should come at once— she should 
 be here almost as soon as I could get back." 
 
 '•Enough," said Floribel, waving her hand for 
 the livery-servant to withdraw. 
 
 " If you plfase, ma'am," he said, before he re- 
 tired, "at what hour will you please to have the 
 parriage ?— and ia it to be the close-carriage or the 
 opL'n calcche 7 It is a beautiful day, ma'am— 
 and quite warm, thou;;h the end of October." 
 
 " I do not know thnt I shall go out at all to- 
 day. Perhaps Miss Evelyn may stay to dinner. 
 At all events I have no orders to giva at pre- 
 sent." 
 
 The groom bowed and retired. One of the 
 maid-servants also quitted the room; while the 
 other remained to set a few little things to rights; 
 for in a newly furnished house there are al^nys 
 these sorts of attentions tu bo paid— especially 
 when an upholsterer, obeying a wholesale order, 
 has had but three days fur the completion of all 
 
 Floribel fell into a profound reverie, until she 
 heard a double knock at the door : then she 
 started, and sat quivering with suspense, the 
 colour again coming and going on her beautiful 
 countenance. In a few moments the door opened, 
 and Agnes rushed into the room. 
 
 "Dearest Floribel !" she 'exclaimed. 
 
 "Dearest Agnes!" cried the young lady : and 
 they were clasped in each other's arms. 
 
 Long did they thus remain embraced. It 
 seemed as if Agnes could not sufficiently as 
 herself that Floribel was restored to her— thi 
 was a reality and not a dream ; while on the other 
 hand Floribel appeared to experience the fulGlment 
 of a previously existing want to cling to some one 
 on whose love and friendship she could rely. Tiie 
 maid retired from the apartment; and the tn-c 
 cousins sat down together. 
 
 "You are pule— and you seem careworn, mj 
 sweet Agnea," said Floribel, as they looke;l at eacL 
 other, their hands fondly clasped. 
 
 "Oh, my dear cousin, I am happy now !" re 
 plied Agnes : — " Oh, perfectly happy !'* she onthu 
 siastically added, as raising Floribel's hand to hei 
 lipg, she caught sight of the wedding-ring upoi 
 her finger. 
 
 " But you have suffered much on my account ?' 
 said Floribel, in a low and mournful voice'. 
 
 "Yea, — Ob, much!" exclaimed Agnea. ": 
 
 knew you had gone to marry Mr. Clifford " 
 
 - Oh I ynu knew it ?" interjected Floribs 
 quickly. "But hew? how?" 
 
 Oh ! you were seen to depart from Mrs. She- 
 n's house with a young gentleman— t!io polico 
 constable saw you — and then I knew that this 
 g gentleman could be none other than Then- 
 dore CliiVord whom you already loved. But why 
 you not write to me, Floribel? A single line 
 
 word even Ou ! you know not the uu- 
 
 ni?s3 you would have spared me !" and the tears 
 trickled from the eyes of Agnes at the thought of 
 all the anxiety she had undergone. 
 
 "For heaven's sake do not weep, my sweet cou- 
 sin !" said Floribel, weeping likowUe. 
 
 "Xo! no ! I am happy now!" cried our ami- 
 able heroine, straining Floribel to her busom ; — 
 " and all the more so," she added, in a softer and 
 gentler tone, "because whatsoever little scintilla, 
 tion of fear and doubt I might have experienced, 
 has now disappeared -pardon me, dearest Flo- 
 ribel, for saying so !" — and again she glanced at 
 the marriage-ring, but this time significantly. 
 
 At the moment a slight flush crossed Floribel's 
 countenance : but so transient was it, th^t when 
 the next instant Agnes raised her eyes agaio, she 
 perceived it not. 
 
 "Oh! I should have written to you," said Flo- 
 ribel; "but I was determined— no doubt it was a 
 silly vanity on my part— but still such was ray 
 
 feeling 1 was determined, I say, to wait until 
 
 I could receive you in a house of my own. Ah ! 
 my dear Agnes, it was natural I should wish to 
 convince you of my happiness, after you had doubt- 
 less thought that I had Jled from our own home 
 only to encounter disappointment and misery." 
 
 " And you are completely happy, Fioribel ?" said 
 Agnes, gazing earnestly with her beautiful blue 
 eyes into the large dark ones of her cousin. 
 
 "Ob, happy! — can you doubt it ?" cried Flo- 
 ribel, suddenly starting up from her seat. "Look 
 around at this splendid room ? Is it not elegantly 
 
 furnished? See this 
 
 
 Wl 
 
 magnificent diamonds! what pearls ! what rubies! 
 Here is a sweet watch— a real Breg»iet ! and here 
 is another, exquisitely enamelled at the back ! Look 
 at this choice of gold chains ! and here are rings 
 fitted for the fingers of a queen ! Ah ! here is the 
 list of the wines in our cellar. Eighty dozen ! — 
 and about forty more to be added ! But como 
 with mo over the house." 
 
 "And where is Mr. Clifford? where is Theo- 
 dore your husband ?" inquired Agnes. 
 
 " Oh, he is not here at present," responded 
 Floribel. "I must tell you that he has a difficult 
 
 game to play with his father with whom he is 
 
 accordingly compelled to pass several hours each 
 
 day ■' 
 
 " IIuw long then have you been in London since 
 your marriage ?" askel Agnes. 
 
 "Let me see ?" said Floribel. "We were mar- 
 
 ried " and again the slight flush passed tran* 
 
 sieutly over her countenance, but still so slightly 
 and so transiently that Agnes perceived it not, — 
 " we were married on the 21st : we returned to 
 London on the 23rd." 
 
 "And this is the 31st!" said Agnes, somewhat 
 
 reproachfully. "A whole week in London " 
 
 *' Ah ! but we first of all went to an hotel " cun- 
 
 tinned Floribel, "while Theodore took this house i 
 
 then there was the furnishing and the hiring of 
 
 for we keep seven, Agnes!— a lady's 
 
 id — a parlour-maid— a housemaid — atiteward —
 
 136 
 
 AOITES; OB, BEACTT AHD PLEAStTHB. 
 
 groom— a coachman— and of course a cook. But 
 1! these things, as I was saying, required a little 
 time to arrange ; and you will admit there has 
 been no delay ?" 
 
 " And you have not as yet seen Lord Winder- 
 mere ?" said Agnes. 
 
 " No— not yet," replied Floribel quickly. " But 
 that is nothing. Theodore will bring it all about 
 as speedily as possible : there is plenty of time. 
 But come, my dear Agnes, and let us look over 
 the house. I myself am scarcely as yet acquainted 
 with all that it contains. Ah ! tell me, dearest 
 Agnes, you have forgiven me for the little cheat I 
 put upon you the evening when I left you ?"— 
 and Floribel's lips quivered as she spoke. 
 
 "Ob, speak no more of it, my dear cousin!" 
 murmured Agnes. "It is done, and cannot be 
 recalled— even if you had the wish." 
 
 "Oh, no! I have not the wish— I am com- 
 pletely happy !" exclaimed Floribel : but there was 
 a slight though scarcely perceptible hysteria in 
 her tone in the very endeavour which she made 
 to force it to too high a pitch of exultation. " I 
 should be in such enthusiastic spirits— Oh ! I 
 should indeed ! were it not for the necessity of 
 living apart from you, dearest, dearest Agnes I" 
 
 " When a young lady marries," replied Agnes 
 Beriously, " s«e must abandon all kith and kin for 
 her husband's sake. It is sufficient for me, dear 
 cousin, to know that you are happy ; and if 
 Theodore loves you " 
 
 " Oh ! look at all these proofs of his love !" 
 cried Floribel, pointing to the casket of jewels. 
 '•■ But como ! I have not yet taken you over the 
 
 Floribel accordingly began to conduct her 
 cousin throughout the dwelling,— which, as we 
 have before said, was not very extensive, but 
 commodious and elegantly appointed. It was 
 evident that no expense had been spared on the 
 fitting up of the establishment; and Agnes won- 
 dered somewhat, for she did not think that the 
 Hon. Mr. Clifford, dependent on his father as he 
 was, could be rich enough for such an outlay. 
 Floribel pointed out every object worthy of notice ; 
 and these were many — so many indeed that she her- 
 self was almost as much making a first acquaint- 
 ance with them as her cousin Agnes was. She 
 was continuously adducing the various details 
 of the house's appointments as proofs of Theo- 
 dore's affectionate consideration for herself, — until 
 at length Agnes began to think it strange that 
 Floribel should thus incessantly harp on the same 
 string. The generous-minded and unsophisticated 
 Miss Evelyn was very slow to entertain suspicion : 
 but she could not now defend herself against a 
 certain uneasy feeling — she scarcely comprehended 
 for what— as Floribel continued to discourse in 
 that strain. 
 
 " You see, my dearest cousin, how beautifully 
 the place is fitted up," said Floribel, as they re- 
 turned to the drawing.room after having duly in- 
 spected the house. " Do you not thick Theodore 
 must love me very dearly to provide such a sweet 
 abode ?" 
 
 " He lives with you, Floribel," answered Agnes, 
 "and therefore it is as much for his own comfort 
 and convenience as yours. Besides, a husband 
 generally fits up a house according to bis means. 
 At the same time, my dear Floribel^" Agoes 
 
 hastened to observe— for it suddenly struck her 
 that the matter-of-fact way in which she was 
 speaking might savour of unkindness — though 
 she was indeed only expressing the thoughte 
 which received their impulse from that vague 
 and dim misgiving which had previously arisen 
 in her mind,—" at the same time, dear Floribel, 
 there can be no doubt from all you tell me. that 
 Theodore does indeed love you very sincerely." 
 
 "Oh, yes! he does!" cried Floribel; "and my 
 maids were telling me so just before your arrival." 
 
 "Your maids?" said Agnes. "You do not 
 converse lightly with them upon a subject which 
 is invested as it were with a kind of secret sacred- 
 
 " Oh ! but the girls are already much attached 
 to me," exclaimed Floribel. " Look ! I will give 
 you another proof of Theodore's love :"— and she 
 hastened to open an elegant writing-desk which 
 stood upon a cheffonier. " See ! here are all the 
 bills that he has paid for furniture, plate, car- 
 riages, horses, wine, and a quantity of other 
 things. He has given them t.) me— and he has 
 assured me that everything is mine." 
 
 Agnes, obedient to the first impulse of her ex- 
 cellent disposition, was about to pour forth the 
 warmest congratulations on this generosity on 
 Theodore Clifford's part, — when she was suddenly 
 smitten with an idea which sent a sickening sen- 
 sation to the heart. Yet she scarcely compre- 
 hended it : it only seemed to her singular that a 
 husband should bid a wife consider furniture, 
 plate, horses, and carriages, all as her own. She 
 fancied they were things which, constituting as it 
 were common property between a husband and 
 wife, could not be talked about as to whom in par- 
 ticular they should belong. She looked at Flori. 
 bel ; and then she asked in a gentle, hesitating voice, 
 " And where were you married, dearest cousin ? ' 
 
 " Oh ! at a little village in a secluded spot," 
 exclaimed Floribel,— " eighty or a hundred miles 
 from London — I really do not know bow many 
 but its name is Elmdale." 
 
 " Then everything was ready for the cere- 
 mony ?" said Agnes, who felt considerably re- 
 lieved by the ready answer thus given to her 
 question. 
 
 " Oh ! there was a special license, you know," 
 responded Floribel; " and with that the process is 
 easy enough. Here ! look at this album !"— and 
 she bent over the supeib book which she bad just 
 turned to open upon the table. 
 
 " It is very handsome," said Agnes : and in her 
 affectionate solicitude on ber cousin's behalf she 
 would fain have asked some more questions rela- 
 tive to the bridal; but she experienced a sensa- 
 tion of diffidence, as if she almost felt that Flo- 
 ribel herself rather avoided the topic every time 
 she approached it. 
 
 " You will stay and dine with me, Agnes ? Oh, 
 you must pass the remainder of the day ! I sbait 
 be aft alone if you do not— for Theodore has pro- 
 mised to dine with his father, who has a largo 
 party." 
 
 " Oh, yes- 1 will stay with you," exclaimed 
 iliss Evelyn ; and her heart felt wounded on Flo- 
 ribel's account — for she could not help thinking 
 that it was somewhat cruel for a bride of only ten 
 or eleven days to be thus left for so many hours 
 by her husband.
 
 AONES; OK, BEA.UTT AND PLEASURE. 
 
 said Floribel, " whnt did 
 igbbourbood when thej 
 
 " And now tell 
 people think in 
 heard of what had happened ? 
 
 " Oh ! let us not speak about it," said Agnes : 
 "it 13 all past and done now." 
 
 '■Yis— but tell me a few particulars on the 
 subject," urged Fluribel. " Cbarlea Da Vere tor 
 instunce — and his mother " 
 
 " I assured tbem, and every one else whom I 
 
 hnro seen," replied Agnes, " that jou had left 
 
 bidney Villa to espouse Mr. Clifford ; and then 
 
 there was nothing for them to say. Ab 1 1 should 
 
 jio. 18.— AosES. 
 
 tell you that Cicely Xeii'.e came to the villa ; she 
 was most kind — she stayed with me — and she 
 saved me from a fearful peril which threatened me 
 — or at least she saved the house from being 
 robbed !" 
 
 " Saved you, Agnes ? Good heavens, my dear 
 cousin! what do you mean? You frighten me i*' 
 exclaimed Floribel. 
 
 A'Tues briefly related the adventure with the 
 supposed burglars, Floribel listened with atten- 
 tion, and with a countenance expressive of the 
 deepest sympathy, — exclaiming when the narrative
 
 AeSES; OK, BBADII AND TIXUVWS. 
 
 was finished, " Good heavens, Agnes ! how shock- 
 inj to think that you should have incurred such 
 
 a danger ! And no clue has been obtained " 
 
 '• Not the slightest," responded Miss Evelyn. 
 "In all probability the burglars will never be de- 
 
 The cousins continued in conversation until the 
 hour arrived when it was necessary for Floribel to 
 go up and dress for dinner ; for she still retained 
 her morning negligee. By the time her toilet was 
 accomplished it was half-past five o'clock, at which 
 Iii>ur the dinner was served up. The two coi 
 sat down together. Agnes could not help sighing 
 as she thought of the bridegroom being absent 
 from his table ere the honeymoon was one third 
 uvci'j and us she glanced at Floribel their eyes 
 iiicl. The colour went and came on Floribel's 
 countenance— for she penetrated what was passing 
 in the mind of Agnes ; and in a low voice, which 
 was tremulous despite her endeavour to render it 
 as calm and composed as she could, she said, in a 
 whisper, so as not to be overheard by the servants 
 in attendance, " It is only for a short time, Agnes, 
 that Theodore is thus compelled to sacritice me as 
 it were to bis father. But when a marriage takes 
 place under clandestine circumstances — for the 
 truth must be told — everything cannot be com- 
 pletely smooth at first." 
 
 Agnes, deeply commiserating her cousin, instan- 
 taneously endeavoured to assume a cheerful air : 
 she forced herself to speak with gaiety ; and Flo- 
 ribel thanked her with a glance of gratitude. The 
 dinner was exquisitely served, and consisted of 
 dainties sufficient for a dozen persons. But al- 
 though there were only two, yet all the ceremony 
 of large parties wag observed, — the parlour-maid 
 wailing, assisted by Bateman, who stood the 
 whole time at the sideboard, whence he handed to 
 the girl the plate, the finger-glasses, the wines, the 
 dessert, and everything that was required for the 
 complete service of the table. 
 
 " I would gladly escape from all this ceremony," 
 said Floribel, when the domestics had withdrawn : 
 " but Theodore is accustomed to it— the servants 
 do it as a matter of course— and it would seem 
 strange if I were to forbid them." 
 
 Again Agnes sighed— but this time in so sub- 
 dued and stifled a manner that her emotion was 
 not noticed by her cousin. Our heroine could not 
 help thinking that such ceremony, as cold as the 
 massive silver plate itself, could scarcely contri- 
 bute to real domestic comfort or happiness. 
 
 After having sat a little while longer at the 
 table, the cousins ascended to the drawing-room, 
 where Floribel begged Agnes to try the splendid 
 piano which Mr. Clifiord had purchased for 
 her. It was a magnificent instrument ; and 
 Agnes played tome lively airs, — not choosing 
 this particular style through any settled purpose 
 nt the moment—tbough when she had finished, 
 tlie idea stole into her mind that she had done so 
 in order to cheer Floribel's spirits. Then this 
 thought naturally made her ask herself whether 
 her cousin's spirits really required such cheering ? 
 — and though she struggled against the imprea- 
 »ion, yet she could not help feeling that there was 
 a something wanting to convince her that Floribel 
 was indeed perfectly happy. The bridegroom was 
 absent, it is true : but even this circumstance did 
 not seem altogether to account for that senti- 
 
 ment of commiseration and sympathy which Agnes 
 found herself entertaining on her cousin's behalf. 
 " Why should I feel thus ?" thought Agnes in 
 her own mind : and she could not satisfactorily 
 reply to the question. 
 
 Cofl'eo was presently served, the small china 
 cups being brought upon a massive silver salver ; 
 so that this formal ceremony again made the 
 thoughts of Agnes revert to the simpler yet far 
 more comfortable style in which she and her 
 cousin had been wont to have their own tea-table 
 served nt Sidney Vdla. At length Agnes, observ- 
 ing by the splendid or-molu timepiece that it was 
 nine o'clock, thought it time to depart ; and she 
 intimated this much to her cousin. 
 
 " I will send you home in the carriage," ex- 
 claimed Floribel : and she had darted to the bell- 
 pult before ber cousiti had time to declare that she 
 should be contented with a humbler mode of con- 
 veyauce. 
 
 The carriage was ordered : and when the ser- 
 vant hud retired, Agnes said, " Excuse me, dear 
 Floribel, for speaking to you on a little matter of 
 business : but when once it is settled there will be 
 no further need to revert to it." 
 
 " What do you mean, my dear cousin f" in- 
 quired Floribel in astonishment. 
 
 " I was alluding to our pecuniary affairs," re- 
 plied Agnes. "Your lamented mother— my own 
 beloved aunt— left us co-heiresses. The half of the 
 
 income is therefore your's " 
 
 " Agnes, not another syllable upon this point!" 
 exclaimed Floribel. "Everything is now your's! 
 Keep it all, my sweet cousin ; you will be the 
 richer— and I am enchanted that it is so; for 
 you know that 1 am already rich !" 
 
 " I shall say no more, then, upon the present 
 occision," rejoined Agnes ; " but remember, Flo- 
 ribel, I shall always hold your share of the inconte 
 at your disposal. And now I will go and prepare 
 for departure." 
 
 " Catharine will accompany you to the cham- 
 ber," said her cousin, ringing the bell. " Excuse 
 for not going with you— hut I have a few little 
 presents in my writing-desk for Eachel : I will 
 look, them out— and I will get you to take them." 
 Agnes smiled sweetly upon her cousin as sho 
 turned to leave the room ; for such generous cou- 
 siderateness on Floribel's part had not been 
 her usual characteristic ; and the amiable Agnes 
 well pleased that she should thus think of a 
 faithful and devoted servant. On issuing forth 
 upon the landing, Agnes found Catharine ready 
 tb the wax-light to conduct her to the chamber : 
 t on arriving there, Miss Evelyn dispensed with 
 the young woman's services. She was accustomed 
 to put on her own bonnet and mantle without 
 such assistance- Catharine accordingly re- 
 tired ; and Agnes remained alone in the room. It 
 low that a deep depression seized upon her: 
 she could scarcely account for it — still less could 
 she shake it oiF; and sinking upon a chair, -she 
 burst into tears. A presentiment of something 
 wrong oppressed her mind, — though what it was 
 she dared not allow herself to conjecture. For 
 some minutes so deeply absorbed was she in pain- 
 ful thought, that she did not hear the double 
 knock at the door, which to ethers announced 
 some arrival. Her feelings obtained full vent i 
 then sho hastily wiped her eyes ; and blaming lier>
 
 AOITES; OK, BEAnTY AND PLEASniE. 
 
 self for her weakness — endeavouring to persuade 
 herself too that it was utterly unfounded — she 
 completed her toilet. She now beard the carriage 
 stop at the door ; and catching up the taper, she 
 began to descend the stairs. 
 
 That double knock at the door to which we have 
 alluded, announced the return of the Hon. Mr. 
 Chfford. His countenance was slightly flushed 
 with wine ; and it ac-iiuired even a more height- 
 ened glow as he sprang up the first ascent of stairs 
 towards the drawing-ruom. Entering that apart- 
 ment — and merely swinging the door behind him, 
 without perfectly closing it— ho received Floribel 
 
 "Ob, this is kind of you, Theodore!" she ex. 
 claimed. "A full hour before I expected you !" 
 
 "The dinner party at my father's was a very 
 slow affair," responded Theodore ; " and so I got 
 away as soon as I could." 
 
 Floribel did not perceive that the answer was 
 not altogether very complimentary to herself, — 
 implying as it did that if the party had been o:ure 
 agreeable Theodore would not have left it so 
 
 "Who do you think is with me?" she ex- 
 claimed. " Agnes is here !— she camo in the after- 
 noon—she dined with me " 
 
 "lam glad of it, Floribel," said Clifford. "I 
 wish jou to have a little society. But I suppose 
 you bavo not " — and ho hesitated-" you have 
 
 " I know what you would say, Theodore," said 
 Floribel, in a half mournful voice. "No— I have 
 told her nothing : I dare not ! Oh, would to God 
 til at I could tell her something that might be 
 satisfactory ! But ^/oti, Theodore— have you 
 spoken to your father ? have you succeeded with 
 
 him :-" 
 
 " I have broken the ice, my dear girl," an- 
 swered Clifford : "I have prepared him — I have 
 dropped a few hints — but I could not say too 
 much tO'day, for he was not in the very best of 
 
 " This is unfortunate ! most unfortunate !" said 
 Floribel. *' Ob, Theodore ! there are moments 
 when I feel very, very unhappy " 
 
 " Pray use not this language, my dearest love !" 
 said the young man in the most earnest tone of 
 entreaty. " You will render me likewise very un- 
 happy ! 1 am doing all that 1 can to ensure your 
 comfort and welfare——" 
 
 " Yes— I know it ! I know it, dear Theodore !" 
 interjected Floribel, enthusiastically. " Oh, I know 
 that you love mo very much !— but you must not 
 indeed be vexed or angry with me if I press you 
 on this point. All the happiness of my life de- 
 pends upon it ; and you know, my beloved Theo- 
 dore, that I have not uttered a syllable of reproach 
 since that dreadful scene " 
 
 " No, no I you have kept your word, Floribel I" 
 said Theodore quickly: and again did the ilus!\ of 
 wine heighten into a ruddier glow upon his coun- 
 tenance. " You have behaved admirably in that 
 respect !" 
 
 *" And therefore you will reward mo as soon as 
 pusaible," said Floribel, in an appealing voice, 
 " by the fulfilment of your promise ? . Oh, you 
 must do it soon, Theodore I— for I tremble in tho 
 presence of my cou,-iu — she asked me a thousand 
 questions — I thought every instant that she would 
 
 beg me to show her tho marriage certificate — and 
 if she had made such a demand, what reply could 
 I have given ? Oh I I would sooner perish than 
 be compelled to look my virtuous cousin in the 
 face and confess that I am not married I" 
 
 At this moment a sound as of a candlestick 
 dropping on the landing — instantaneously followed 
 by another sound, liko that of the sudden fall 
 of a human form— reached the ears of Theodora 
 and Floribel ; and with ejaculations of alarm they 
 both rushed to the door. It had, as we have 
 already said, been negligently left ajar when Mr. 
 Clifford entered ; and as Floribel now fore it open, 
 her cousin Agnes was seen stretched motionless 
 upon the landing. 
 
 "Great God! she knows all!" cried Floribel, 
 in accents of tho most piercing anguish ; and she 
 fell back senseless in tho arms of Theodore. 
 
 CHAPTER XXT. 
 
 THE COMPACT. 
 
 At the samo time that this scene was taking place 
 at the house in Mayfair, another scene to which 
 we must direct the attention of our readers, was 
 occurring elsewhere. 
 
 It was about nine o'clock on this same evening 
 that Cicely Neale alighted from a cab in tho 
 neighbourhood of the entrance to tho Regent's 
 Park. She at once dismissed the vehicle, and 
 drew her veil closely down over her countenanoe. 
 She walked about for a few minutes, as if looking 
 fur some one whom she expected to meet there, 
 and who possibly might be unable to recognise her, 
 veiled as she was. At length she accosted a man, 
 who was dressed in a neat suit of black j and she 
 said, " Luke, it is I." 
 
 " I hopf) I have not kept you waiting long, 
 Miss," observed the man, who, as the reader will 
 recollect, filled the post of valet to tho Hon. 
 Hector Hardress. 
 
 " No, no," responded Cicely. " I have ot.iy 
 been here a fow minutes. X)o you think your 
 master will come ?" 
 
 " I am sure of it. Miss," rejoined luke Corbet. 
 
 "Ah!" said Cicely, with this brief and lowly 
 uttered ejaculation expressing her satisfaction. 
 
 "Tell me everything that occurred there is yet 
 
 plenty of time !" 
 
 "You know, Miss," resumed Luke Corbet, 
 
 that it was about three o'clock this afternoon 
 hen you gave me the note, together with your 
 
 "And you told me that you did not think your 
 laster would return to the house till about five 
 clock, so as to be in time to dress for dinner ?" 
 " True, Miss," answered Corbet ; " and it was 
 jout ten minutes past five when he returned. 1 
 then gave him the note, saying that I bad acci- 
 dentally met in the street the young lady who 
 performed so singular a part at Sidney Villa 
 exactly ten days back, and that she had given me 
 jillct to deliver to him. Ho seemed dread- 
 fully annoyed, and ejaculated, * Ah I I expected 
 imcthing of this sort; fur the ten days within 
 hich I promised to make her my wife, are jnst
 
 140 
 
 AGSE8; 0«, BKAT7TT kW PLBA.8CBE. 
 
 expiring r — He then read the billet, and a gleam 
 of satisfaction appeared upon his cuuntenancc. — 
 ' She writes more temperately than I could have 
 anticipated,' he said : ' she desires me to grant her 
 an interview this evening at half-past nine o'clock 
 just within the gates of the Kegent's Park. Per- 
 haps she has become reasonable at last ; and she 
 will accept some such terms as those which I 
 hinted at to her a little while ago.' " 
 
 If Cicely Neale's veil had been raised at the 
 moment, Luke Corbet would have seen how scorn* 
 fully disdainful, how loftily contemptuous was the 
 smile which wreathed the young lady's full red 
 lips, and how kindred fires flashed forth from her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Ah! he thinks that I am yet to be appeased, 
 and satisfied with gold!" she muttered to herself: 
 then speaking audibly to Luke Corbet, she said, 
 " And so you think it is tolerably certain that he 
 will come P" 
 
 "After all that ilr. Hardress said when I gave 
 him the billet," replied Luke, "I feel convinced 
 that he will keep the appointment. Of 
 Miss, being entirely devoted to your intere: 
 after all your generosity towards me, I j 
 word or two to further your views,— yet taking 
 good care not to excite his suspicion against my- 
 selt'.— ' It is a very ugly business, sir,' I observed ; 
 'and I do hope you will be able to settle it.'— 
 'Well,' he replied, 'I think I shall; for Miss 
 li'eale must see when she comes to reflect, how 
 impossible it is that I can fulfil the promise which 
 she extorted from me.'— 'Pray bear in mind, sir,' 
 I added, ' that if Miss 2<"eaie were to show that 
 paper to his lordship your father, it would lead to 
 all sorts of unpleasant inquiries: I should be ques- 
 tioned ; for my name, you know, sir, appears as a 
 witness to the document; and everything would 
 inevitably come out in reference to the night entry 
 into Sidney Villa.'—' Yes, it is indeed very serious,' 
 said my master ; ' and between you and me, Luke, 
 I would do anything short of marrying Miss Neale 
 to set the affair at rest.' — ' Besides, sir,' I con- 
 tinued, ' with all due deference it has struck me 
 that Miss Xeale might make another use of the 
 document : she might put it into the hands of a 
 lawyer and sue you for breach of promise of mar- 
 riage. Her uncle, you know, sir, is an attorney, 
 and is noted as one of the sharpest practitioners 
 in London. It would be a very awkward affair 
 if such a thing took place, and if you had to de- 
 fend such an action. I should be put in the wit- 
 ness-box ' ' I see that you are devilishly afraid 
 
 of yourself,* interrupted Mr. Hardress, with some 
 show of angry impatience ; ' but the trouble of the 
 affair is much greater for me.' — ' Permit me to 
 observe, sir,' I rejoined, * that I have nothing but 
 my character to depend upon ; and if this were 
 lost through an exposure of the share which I 
 
 had in that business the other night' 'Heaven 
 
 forbid that there should bo any danger of such 
 a thing!' ejaculated Mr. Hardress. 'But pray 
 say no more upon the subject ; and trust to me to 
 deal with it successfully.'— That was all that took 
 place ; and now. Miss, you know everything." 
 
 " Tou are serving me faithfully, Luke," replied 
 Cicely ; " and you know that I am not ungrateful. 
 Here ! take this purse — it contains twenty 
 guineas." 
 
 'A thouaanii thanks, Hiss," reepoaded the 
 
 valet, bowing profoundly as he pocketed the do- 
 nation. " You may command me in every- 
 thing." 
 
 " Do you think," asked Miss Nealc, " that if 
 your master went upon a long journey he would 
 take you with himp" 
 
 " I am almost certain that he would," rejoined 
 the valet,—" unless indeed it was a journey ibe 
 circumstances of which he wanted to keep very 
 
 secret " 
 
 " It is a journey with myself to which I allude," 
 interrupted Cicely : " and therefore, as you are 
 
 already acquainted -" 
 
 " Oh ! in that case. Miss," exclaimed Luke, " it 
 is next to certain that Mr. Hardress would take 
 
 me with him. But might I ask " 
 
 " Ask me nothing now !" interrupted Cicely. 
 " If be did not take you with him, it were need- 
 less for me to enter into explanations; and if he 
 should take you, there will be time enough to give 
 them, ^'ow answer me frankly, Luke. You are 
 still willing to serve me to the very utmost, even 
 at the risk of being suspected or even discovered 
 by your master in so doing ?" 
 
 " I am decided !" rejoined Corbet. " What- 
 ever may happen, I have faith in your liberality. 
 If you succeed in bending Mr. Hardress to your 
 purpose, I shall continue in the service of you 
 both : but if you fail, and he should discover that 
 
 I have been betraying him " 
 
 "Then I have promised to provide for you i" 
 ejaculated Cicely ; " and you have already re- 
 ceived more than one earnest of my liberality." 
 
 " I am contented. Miss," answered Corbet, with 
 a bow, " to leave myself entirely in your hands." 
 
 " 'Tis well !" said Cicely. " But we must now 
 separate ; and I will hasten to the appointment 
 which I hope and believe, after all you have told 
 me, your master will keep." 
 
 Cicely Neale then glided away from the spot 
 where this conversation had taken place; and in 
 a few moments sho reached those gates of the 
 Eegent's Park, in the immediate vicinage of which 
 she was to meet Hector Hardress. On gaining 
 the place of appointment, she slackened her pace 
 — walked to and fro — and reflected upon the 
 course which she was now adopting. In a few 
 minutes Hector came lounging along, smoking a 
 cigar. He adopted this air of fashionable ease 
 and indolence in order to make Cicely Xeale fancy 
 that he cared much less than he in reality did for 
 the position in which he found himself placed 
 towards her. When, therefore, he discerned the 
 young lady — whom he at once recognised by her 
 tall form, the fine contours of her shape, and her 
 upright carriage, notwithstanding that she was so 
 closely Veiled — he affected to be all the more 
 tl^ss in his demeanour, so as to seem to be all 
 the more easy in his own mind. But not for an 
 instant was Cicely deceived by this appearance 
 on his part. She now thoroughly comprehended 
 his character and disposition : the letters he had 
 written to Mrs. Cbickladc, and which had so re- 
 cently fallen into Cicely's possession — together 
 with the information just gleaned from Luke 
 Corbet — had fully enlightened the young lady 
 upon that point ; so that she was enabled to smile 
 contemptuously at her seducer's present attempt 
 to assume a careless, off-hand manner. 
 
 " Tou have come," she said, accosting him in
 
 AGNES; OK, BEAUIT 
 
 PLEA3UBE. 
 
 141 
 
 i-IigUt 
 
 
 the neighbourhood of a g 
 terrace where they thus m 
 
 " Ah, Cicelj ! i8 it you ?" ejaculated Hector, as 
 if it were only at this moment that he recognised 
 her. "I really did not know you at first! — you 
 are so closely veiled !" 
 
 " No matter," said Miss Neale : " you are now 
 continced that it is I. As for my being closely 
 veiled, it would be fatal 
 which I have yet left, i 
 young gentleman at this hour and at this place." 
 
 "The little reputation?" echoed Hardress in 
 surprise. " I do not understand you. "Who knows 
 of what has happened betwixt you and me? If 
 the reputation of every young lady who has gone 
 a trifle astray, were as 
 
 which her words conveyed. Everything on her 
 part— all her recent proceeding;:?, at the meeting iu 
 Fitzroy Square as well as at Sidney Villa, together 
 with her present conduct— struck Hector aa being 
 the result of firm, fierce, yet cold-blooded resolute- 
 ness. His conscience too told him that she was 
 his victim — that the wrongs she had sustained at 
 his hands were immense ; and he therefore trem. 
 little reputation t bled as ho walked by the sido of this young lady 
 seen meeting a | who had told him that she carried about her per- 
 son the means of suddeuly levelling him dead at 
 her feet ! 
 
 " You asked for the explanations — and I have 
 given them," said Cicely, in the same quiet tone 
 as before, and without appearing to notice the 
 effect which her words had produced : though 
 
 " You do not understand what 1 mean— but reality through the folds of her veil, her large blue 
 you shall presently know," interrupted Cicely, j eyes had glanced piercingly and penetratingly upon 
 " First of all let mo remind you," slio continued, ; Hector's countenance. " I wont to pass a day or 
 as they slowly walked together along the terrace, [ two," she continued, "at Sidney Villa, to keep 
 "that the ten days have expired, and that during Miss Evelyn company, afllictod as she was by the 
 this interval I have vainly awaited a communica- | sudden flight of her cousin. I sat up reading in 
 tion from you." | my chamber — I heard a voice in her room — and I 
 
 " Why, my dear girl," ejaculated Hector, " it sped thither with my piotols. Despite your mask 
 was I who was waiting to learn what denouement I recognised you, as you are aware, in a moment, 
 it might please you to give to that pleasant little | My first impulse was to shoot you through the 
 comedy of the other night. Ah ! perhaps you will i brain, that my vengeance migljt be wreaked in a 
 have the kindness to tell me how it happened that | moment, and under circumstances so unexpectedly 
 I found myself so suddenly confronted with you, ' favourable that they necessitated not my own self- 
 pistols in your hands " j destruction as the immediate result : for I should 
 
 * Listen," interrupted Cicely; "the explanation 
 is soon given,— and I have no objection to afi'ord 
 it. Indeed, it may perhaps be as well ; as you will 
 thereby obtain a new insight into my character." 
 " One is always pleased," said Hardress, in a 
 style that was languidly flippant, " to discover 
 fresh traits of amiability in any young lady — 
 though how the deuce I could reconcile such traits 
 with the presentation of a brace of pistols in those 
 
 fair hands of your's " 
 
 "If you will listen, I will explain," said Miss 
 Neale, displaying not the slightest emotion of 
 either impatience or anger at the tone and 
 language of the young patrician. " You know 
 that when we met in Fitzroy Square, exactly a 
 month back, I held out certain threats— 1 bade 
 you beware of my vengeance— because your treat- 
 ment of me had been infamous and the sense of 
 my wrongs was intoleriible. I did not speak in- 
 considerately nor without a fixed resolution: I 
 went straightway and purchased a pair of pistols. 
 — ' If,' said I to myself, ' I ever behold Hector 
 Hardress paying attentions to a rival, here is one 
 pistol to stretch him dead at that rival's feet; and 
 here is another to put an immediate period to my 
 own existence. I shall have been signally re- 
 venged, and I can then die !'- ^ 
 I thought, Hector ; and from 
 weapons have ever been ready to my hand." 
 
 Cicely paused for a moment, and then quietly 
 added, " I have them about my person now." 
 
 Hector Hardress was no conurd, as the reader 
 has seen. He had fared <''luii-lcs De Veio iu a 
 duel ; and indeed he jiOssessed a considerable de- 
 gree of courage. But the announcement made to 
 him by Cicely Neale suddenly smote his heart with 
 an uncontrollable terror ; and his countenance be- 
 came very pale. There was something in the cold 
 quiet deliberation of the voice in which she spoke, 
 that gave a. fearful efT.-ct to the 
 
 have proclaimed that it was a burglar that I had 
 shot :— how was I to suspect that the mask con. 
 cealed th3 countenance of the Hon. Mr. Hard- 
 ress ?" 
 
 Hector shuddered as he felt the truth of all 
 that Cicely was saying, and thought to what a 
 thread his life had hung for a moment on that 
 particular night. He flung away his cigar : it 
 seemed to produce a sickening sensation ; — and ho 
 spoke not a word. 
 
 " Yes," continued Cicely, still with a calm 
 quietude of tone which was more terribly impres- 
 sive than the most impassioned emphasis would 
 have been, " my first thought was to kill you on 
 the spot. But a second idea instantaneously 
 flashed to my brain : my plan was suddenly al- 
 tered—and 1 compelled you to sign the paper, 
 
 " But is it possible, Cicely," asked Hector, now 
 beginning to recover his self-possession, " that you 
 can entertain such horrible ideas towards mo— 
 that your vindictiveness can be so terrific ?" 
 
 " Estimate my wrongs. Hector," responded Miss 
 
 Neale, " and then calculate what the amount of 
 
 my vindictiveness might justifiably be. But let 
 
 us come to the point at once. Do you intend to 
 
 as thus that j fulfil your compact? — will you make me your 
 
 t instant the bride? will you conduct me to the altar ?" 
 
 The younij patrician glanced penetratingly to- 
 wards Miss Neaic, to ascertain whether she were 
 feeling beneath her garments to clutch one of the 
 pistols which ho firmly believed that she had abouL 
 her: but ho gathered courage on observing that 
 she was walking by his side as quietly and ai much 
 without any suspicious movement as at first. He 
 therefore said, yet with a certain hesitation and 
 laltering of tone, " You have asked me whether I 
 am prepared to lead you to the altar ? I ain 
 sure you scarcely expect that I shall answer ^6,s 
 But what- what- if I were to eay v.o ?"
 
 112 
 
 AOKES; OB, BEA.VTT AKD PLSASDBB. 
 
 ' I should not be exceediogly astonished," ro- 
 Mis9 Neale. " Indeed, to speak frankly, 
 I came more or less prepared to rccciTo a negatite 
 answer from jour lips." 
 
 " Ah, Tott are beeoming reasonnble, my dear 
 girl !" exclaimed Hector, rejoicing at what he con- 
 ceived to be a corroboration tf the impression pro- 
 duced upon bis mind by Cicely's billet. 
 
 " I must confeijs, Hector," proceeded Miss 
 Keale, " that during the last ten days I have 
 thought very seriously of Iho step which I was 
 urging jou to take. I reilccted that such a mar- 
 riage would be fraught with only utter misery to 
 
 us both " 
 
 girl !" ejaculated Hector, in 
 t: "you are indeed 
 
 " Cicely, my de 
 accents of joy and 
 reasonable " 
 
 "Pray listen to 
 mildly but firmly. 
 
 ?," interrupted Miss Neale, 
 • Tes — those were my reflec- 
 tions : and perhaps that is the reason why during 
 the ten days which have elapsed since the signing 
 of the compact, I have not demanded its fulfil- 
 . ment." 
 
 " Cicely, your conduct is admirable !" cried Hec- 
 tor, seizing her hand and pressing it with a joy, if 
 nnC with a gratitude, which was most unfeigned. 
 
 '•Do listen to me. Hector!" she continued: 
 " for if I purpose to release you from the written 
 pledge you have given me, I mean you neverthe- 
 less to do me an important service." 
 
 " Anything, Cicely ! Speak !" cried Hardress. 
 "Whatever lies in my power " 
 
 " It is a service," pursued Cicely, " which you 
 can easily render, and which will prove exceed- 
 ingly beneficial to me. But I must give you a 
 few explanations. First of all, then, it appears 
 that one of my deceased mother's rich relatives of 
 whom you once heard mo speak " 
 
 " To be sure! I recollect!" cried Hector. "Tney 
 wanted you to go out into the world as a gover- 
 aess, or something of tho sort— you refused — and 
 thev withdrew their countenance from you." 
 
 " Exactly so," answered Cicely. " Well, one of 
 
 these relations, an old aunt, residing Have you 
 
 ever been to York?" 
 
 " JTever," replied Hector. 
 
 "Well then, residing at York," continued Ci- 
 cely, " has recently, it appears, been instituting 
 inquries concerning me. She did not know that 1 
 bad come to reside in London with Mr. and 3Irs. 
 Timperley ; and her inquiries were therefore first 
 instituted at Cambridge, where her agent, through 
 whom she was making her investigation, learnt 
 
 things to my prejudice perhaps joii best know. 
 
 Hector, bow our connexion could have trans- 
 pired " 
 
 " I call God to witness," ejaculated the young 
 natrician vehemently, " that never did my lips 
 
 '■ But Ah ! pcrlijps that infamous woman Mrs. 
 
 Chicklade— or that other woman, you know, who 
 succeeded her in tho occupation of tho cottage 
 where we used to meet — may have whisper- 
 ed " 
 
 " Well, no matter," interrupted Stiss Neale : 
 " the mischief is done— it signifies not how. Very 
 ocrlaiu it is that a report has been made to my 
 aunt at York that I was courted by you at Cam- 
 bridge, and that if wo were not privately married 
 we ought to have been — at least for my reputa- 
 tion's sake. Well, my aunt does not seem to hare 
 
 arrived at the worst conclusion upon the point : 
 on the contrary, she seems to cherish the hope and 
 to cling to the belief that our connexion was an 
 honourable one, but that for certain family reasons 
 you have not as yet dared give publicity to our 
 union. My aunt is exceeding ill— she cannot live 
 many weeks, perhaps not many days: she has 
 thirty thousand pounds to bequeath— and she has 
 written to me a very long letter, in which her de- 
 cision is made known. Here it is," added Miss 
 Neale, producing a letter from her pocket : " you 
 can read it by the aid of this lamp." 
 
 "It is not necessary, my dear girl," replied 
 Hardress : " you can explain its contents." 
 
 "Very well, then," said Cicely: "it will save 
 time, for the letter is a long one and is crossed. 
 My aunt tells mo therein that if I will visit her, 
 accompanied by my husband— if it be only for a 
 single day — she will raako me her heiress— she 
 will leave me her fortune — — " 
 
 "Too worthy old dame!" ejaculated Hector, 
 "And it is thirty thousand pounds?" 
 
 " Yes : she is explicit in her letter. In your esti- 
 mation," continued Cicely— "you who will one day 
 be so rich — the amount is insignificant : but to me 
 it is immense ! Indeed it is an almost fabulous 
 fortune. If I had never known you. Hector,— 
 if this unfortunate connexion had never taken 
 place between us — I should at this moment find 
 myself the heiress to that fortune beyond doubt or 
 questioning. It is through you therefore that I 
 run the risk of losing it ; and it is consequently 
 yo!» that are in duty bound to help me to its ac- 
 quisition." 
 
 " By heaven, my dear Cicely !" exclaimed Hard- 
 ress, "nothing will afford me greater pleasure. 
 And now I comprehend the condition on which 
 you will release me from that compact " 
 
 " Yes— that is the condition," said Miss Neale. 
 •*You now understand what I meant by ere now 
 alluding to as much as toas left of my reputation. 
 It were useless to tell you that after your conduct 
 towards me I continue to entertain any love on 
 your behalf ; and therefore, when the other night 
 I made you sign the paper, pledging yourself to 
 lead me to the altar, it was only in the hope of 
 obtaining a good social position and being released 
 from dependence on my relations in Lincoln's Inn 
 Fields. I will not even pretend that I sought to 
 tranquillize any qualm of conscience— to heal my 
 wounded honour— or to repair my injured virtue. 
 No ! — in seeking to become your wife, it was 
 simply that I might obtain an independence ; for 
 I said to myself, ' Ho will be compelled to allow 
 me a competency, even if he will not live with 
 me !' — Thus you see that when love was destroyed 
 in my heart, my views becirae entirely selfish : 
 but this letter of my aunt at York— which reached 
 me yesterday morning — has changed as it were 
 the exigencies and necessities of my position." 
 
 " To be sure 1" exclaimed Hector Hardress : " a 
 fortune of thirty thousand pounds will settle yoa 
 in comfort for the rest of your \\U !"— and he in- 
 wardly chuckled at the thought that he should be 
 most ellcctually rid of her. 
 
 " You fully compreheud, therefore," continued 
 Cicely, " that to me this matter is one of the most 
 vital importance. My aunt is already more than 
 half inclined to believe that I am really a legally 
 and honourably wedded wife ; and not a single
 
 BEA.DTT ASD 
 
 W3 
 
 doubt will remnin in her mind if you consent to 
 aid me in the manner whicU must naturillj sug- 
 gest itself to jour understanding." 
 
 " Oil, I fully comprehend !*' exclaimed Hector 
 Hardress. " It is a little innocent cheat which 
 we must put upon the old lady ?" 
 
 " Precisely so," responded Miss Neale. 
 
 " Then you wish me to accompany you to 
 Voik ?" aaid Hector inquiringly. 
 
 " It is absolutely necessary. Tou can surely 
 give mo three days of your tiuie, when I am ab- 
 solving you from a cumiiact which, it fulBlled, 
 would devote the whole remnant of your existence 
 unto me!" 
 
 " I will give you three days— or five— or seven, 
 for that purpose and on this condition," rejoined 
 Hector. " When do you wish to start f" 
 
 " To-morrow morning, by an early train," re- 
 plied Cicely. " There must be no delay in the 
 matter ; for my aunt is very ill " 
 
 " There shall be no delay so far as I arn con- 
 cerned !" exclaimed Hardress. '• 1 can easily get 
 away from London for a week, if it be necessary. 
 
 will meet you therol'oro at the station to-moirow 
 morning " 
 
 " .it nine o'clock," said Cicely. " We shall 
 reach York in the evening— we shall first of all 
 repair to an hotel— and thence will I despatch a 
 messenger to my aunt with the intelligence that I 
 have arrived with my husband, and that wo both 
 of us solicit permission to pay our respects to her 
 immediately." 
 
 '• Good !" said Hardress : " lay your plans as 
 you like— and rest assured that when in the pre- 
 .*euce of your aunt, I will perform to perfection 
 the part of a loving husband towards you. I will 
 call her ' dear aunt," and will manifest such con- 
 cern for hor illness " 
 
 If you do all this. Hector," exclaimed Cicely, 
 a tone that appeared to be full of gratitude, " 1 
 shall forgive you for all the past— and we shall be 
 good friends for the future !" 
 
 " I am delighted to hear you speak thuS;" cried 
 Hardress. 
 
 "And I am delighted," rejoined Cicely, "to 
 and that you exhibit so much readiness to 
 succour me- Ah I by the bye, my aunt must 
 of course be led to suppose that you are very wed 
 off, and that we are cot courting her merely 
 for the sake of the money which she has to 
 leave." 
 
 " We will go to the best hotel and engage hand- 
 some apartments there," exclaimed Hector. " I 
 will take my valet with me— we «tli live sump- 
 tuously—in short, if the old lady, who seams fuad 
 of making inquiries, should send any private 
 ag2nt to ask questions at the hotel, eycrything 
 shall be satisfactory." 
 
 " And in this case the fortune will be mine!" 
 said Cicely, at the same time raising her veil nn.l 
 gazing up with an animated countenance at her 
 patrician companion. 
 
 "But there ia one little thing which has just 
 struck me," said Hardress, who could not help 
 thinking that Miss ^N'eale looked handsomer and 
 more captivating than ever ; " and this is that if 
 we play the part of husband and wife for a few 
 days at the hotel — and if we so conduct our pro- 
 ceedings as to satisfy any inquiries which the old 
 lady ma; make— we must in every particular be- 
 
 have as if WD were really man and wife. Tou 
 understand me, Cicely ?" 
 
 "Yes— I understand you. Hector," said tho 
 young lady, bending down her looks. " I have 
 not become a prude — I do not mean to affect a 
 virtue which you know that 1 possess not. For 
 the time being," she added, in a lower tone, " I 
 will be to you as a wife." 
 
 Hector— inspired with some of the former pas- 
 sion with which Cicely's personal charms and 
 voluptnous beauties had filled him— passed his 
 arm round her waist, drew her towards him, and 
 imprinted a kiss upon hor lips. She abandoned 
 herself to his embrace for a few moments ; and 
 then she disengaged her form from the arms that 
 were thrown about it. They had by this time 
 reached a retired portion of the Park; and they 
 began to retrace their way towards the gates by 
 which they had entered it. 
 
 " Tell me, my dear Cicely," said Hector, as they 
 walked along together, — " tell me, now that we 
 are good friends once again, why yo:i came to this 
 appointment armed with your pistols, si-nce it was 
 your purpose to propose eo amicable a method of 
 settling the matter ?" 
 
 " I was not sure that you would consent to 
 assist me," replied Miss Neale : " I feared that 
 in consequence of recent circumstances you might 
 be vindictive against me ; and therefore, if you 
 bad refused to render me the service which is 
 so vitally important as the only means of giving 
 back happiness to my existence,— if you had re- 
 fused, I say, I should have killed you first and 
 myself afterwards." 
 
 Hector shuddered: but immediately throwing 
 oS* tho disagreeable sensation which these words 
 produced, ho said, " Well, it is indeed much better 
 that the business should be thus amicably ar- 
 ranged, and that we should be good friends once 
 more. Besides, the jaunt will be a pleasant one 
 under all circumstances; and 1 shall have the 
 happiness of being with you a;^ain, for a short 
 while ; for I love you. Cicely— and family reasons 
 alone have prevented me from making you my 
 wife." 
 
 " We will not discuss the past," answered Miss 
 Ncale : and then she added in a gay tone, " Be- 
 sides, you must recollect that while we ace to. 
 gether we are to maintain all the affectionate ap- 
 pearance of man and wife. Here we separate. 
 Farewell for the present, Hector." 
 
 Cicely gave him her hand, which he pressed: 
 and she then hurried away, again drawing down 
 her veil. 
 
 On issuing from the Regent's Park, Cicely took 
 a cab and proceeded to tho Strand. It was 
 now late : but she.found a chemist's shop open„ 
 She entered it, atjd purchased some laudanum, — 
 alleging that it was for the toothach, though she 
 had never suffered from such an iotliction in all 
 her life, her teeth being pure and sound, without 
 speck or blemish. Having made her purchase, 
 she returned to Lincoln's Inn Fields— where she 
 had some ready-iavonted tale to account not only 
 for her absenco ot that evening, but likewise for 
 the journey she purposed to undertake on llie 
 morrow.
 
 AC5ES; OB, BEJLUTV 
 
 PLEASCBE. 
 
 c n A p T E i: XXVI. 
 
 IDE POET WINE. 
 
 At a quarter before nine on the ensuing 
 Cicely Xcale aliglited from a cab at the terminus 
 in Kuston Square; and she was immediately 
 joined by the Hon. Hector Hardress, who had 
 already arrived. At a little distance stood Luke 
 Corbet, carrying in his hand a small portmanteau 
 containing his master's effects. 
 
 " I have already taken the tickets," said Hector, 
 pressing the band which Cicely proflVred him ; 
 <■ and by means of a small bribe I have obtained 
 the promise of a compartment for ourselves. We 
 shall be all alone together; and we can converse 
 on the part which we have to perform. My ser- 
 vant of course travels second-class." 
 
 Hector and Cicely took their seats in the com- 
 partment which the guard of the train was keep- 
 ing f.>r their special accommodation ; while Luke 
 Corbet — who had received a sigoifioanc glance 
 from Miss Neale — ensconced himself in a second- 
 class carriage. The bell rang— there was the 
 usual rush of passengers to their seats— the usual 
 hurrying to and fro of porters and other olHcials 
 — and then the train moved on. 
 
 Cicely Ueale displayed a most amiable de- 
 meanour towards Hector Hardress; so that it 
 even appeared as if she had never experienced a 
 cause to smart on account of any wrongs endured 
 at his hands. She smiled and conversed gaily: 
 she permitted his caresses; and after a while sbo 
 returned them, just as she was wont to do io past 
 times at the cottage in the neighbourhood of 
 Cambridge. Hardress was completely happy. 
 He had not only freed himself, as he thought, 
 from the persecutions of Cicely, from her vindic- 
 tiveness, and from the consequences of the com- 
 pact signed at Sidney Villa,— but he had got back 
 a mistress whom be liked as such, though he never 
 loved her sufficiently to think for a moment of 
 making her his wife. To him the whole affair 
 was a perfect pleasure-excursion : he rejoiced in 
 the excitement of railway-travelling— he had a 
 handsome and agreeab'e companion— and he 
 moreover promised himself no small degree of 
 amusement iu duping and cajoling the old aunt at 
 York. On the other band, Cicely was really in 
 excellent spirits ; for she foresaw the complete 
 success of the deep-laid scheme which she had iu 
 hand. 
 
 The hours passed away ; and at length a halt of 
 about twenty minutes was made to enable the 
 passengers to take refreshments. Hardress and 
 Cicely alighted as well as the rest ; and MissXeale 
 at once sought an opportunity of saying a word 
 to Luke Corbet, unpeiceived by his master. This 
 I opportunity was obtained ; and she hastily whis. 
 1 pered to the valet, " Mr. Hardress will presently 
 desire you to put a bottlo of Port and glasses in 
 our compartment. Mind that you pour the con- 
 tents of this phial into the bottle ! Everything 
 that I have in view depends upon it." 
 
 She slipped into Luke's hand the phial of lauda- 
 num which she had purchased in London on the 
 preceding evening; and the valet darted upon her 
 a significant look, as much as to imply that her 
 instructions should bo obeyed to the very letter. 
 
 I Cicely then hastened to rej .in Hector Hard- 
 ress at the refreshment-table ; and they ccm- 
 mencod their luncheon. He ordered sherry : ba: 
 Cicely said to him, " You know that I never drinit 
 it !" — adding with a smile, " It always tastes to 
 mo like antimonial wine !" 
 j " What will you have, then ?" inquired Hector. 
 
 "Some Port— which I will mix with water." 
 
 "Then I will take Port likewise," added 
 Hector : and the command was given to the 
 waiter accordingly. 
 
 " I am no judge of wine," said Cicely when the 
 Port was supplied : " but this appears to be ex- 
 cellent." 
 
 "Yes— it is very good," observed Hardress: 
 " and it is a pity that they allow us so short a 
 time to procure our refreshments here — for I 
 could drink a pint of this wine to my iolinite com- 
 fort and satisfaction.'* 
 
 " What is to prevent you from having a bottle 
 placed in the railway-carriage ?" asked Cicely. 
 " You can order some biscuits likewise : and I 
 should infinitely prefer such a luncheon to this 
 cold meat," she added, pushing the plate away 
 from her. " Besides, I wish to see you enjoy your- 
 self — you shall smoke your cigar — you know that 
 I do not care about it— and the compartment is 
 all to ourselves." 
 
 Hector was delighted to find Miss Neale thus 
 amiable; and he readily agreed to her proposi- 
 I tion. 
 
 I "There is your valet," said Cicely, glancing 
 towards the door, at which Luke Corbet was 
 lounging so as to be in readiness to be summoned. 
 " Bid him place in the carriage all that we re- 
 quire." 
 
 Hector accordingly beckoned Luke to opproach ; 
 and the instructions were given. When Hector 
 and Cicely resumed their seats in their own com- 
 partment, they found a decanter of Port.wine, a 
 couple of glasses, a paper-bag containing biscuits 
 and cakes, and half-a-dozen cigars, in readiness for 
 use. The train moved on; and Cicely, still with 
 a most amiable smile, said, " Now light your cigar. 
 Hector — and suffer me to perform the duties of 
 cup-bearer." 
 
 '• Why not say Hebe at once ?" asked Hector, 
 likewise smiling as he paid this compliment, which 
 , he followed up with a kiss upon the full red lips 
 of his -companion. 
 
 " You are indeed a kind and most affectionate 
 husband," she said, laughing gaily; "and yoa 
 shall see how attentive I can be as a wife." 
 
 "And the old lady at York," added Hector, 
 also laughing heartily, "shall pronounce us the 
 most loving couple she ever saw in her life. But 
 are you sure that the smoke will not annoy you?" 
 he inquired as he took up a cigar. 
 
 " I am no fastidious young lady," responded 
 Cicely, smiling. 
 
 Hector accordingly lighted the cigar ; while 
 Miss Neale b;gan to eat one of the little cakes 
 from the paper-bag. 
 
 " And now," she said, " since I have set myself 
 up as a judge of wine to-day, I will pass my opi- 
 nion on this fresh supply of Port." 
 
 She filled a glass— took one sip of it^ contents 
 —and said, laughing, " I don't know whether it is 
 that being in such good spirits I am prepared to 
 ! enjoy everything to day — but really it strikes me
 
 I ne»er before appreciated the merits of wine. 
 Ah, there is a beautiful country-seat !" 
 
 And as Hector turned his looks in the direction 
 indicated by Miss Ifeale, she from the other win- 
 dow, which was open, tossed out the remaining 
 rontents of the glass which she held in her nand. 
 It was done in the twinkling of an eye; ani when 
 Hector turned towards her again, she seemed as if 
 ehe were just finishing the process of imbibing the 
 wine with her lips. 
 
 " Well, my dear girl," cried Hector, laughing, 
 "I do indeed think that wine must be to your 
 t»ate;— and now you shall perform the part of 
 Hebe to me." 
 
 Cicely was about to take up the other glass : 
 but Hardress, who was playfully happy, insisted 
 that he would drink out of the same glass as his 
 fair companion : so she filled it accordingly. 
 
 "Ah!" he said, as be swallowed about half the 
 No. 10,— AoNaa. 
 
 contents ; " cigars and Port-wina do not ^o well 
 together. The former seem to impart a queer kind 
 of acrid taste to the latter," he continued. " But 
 never mind ! it is my fault if I spoil good wine by 
 means of the weed." 
 
 He finished the contents of the glass, and went 
 on puffing his cigar. Cicely Neale rattled away 
 in a joyous strain : she talked incessantly. Hec- 
 tor was delighted : he thought he had never found 
 her so agreeable ; and he still fancied likewise that 
 he had never seen her looking so handsome, ifter 
 awhile she filled him another glass, the contents of 
 which he drank ; and he took another cigar. Pre- 
 sently he remarked with a smile that she was not 
 doing justice to the luncheon of her own cbjioe; 
 so she ate another cake, and half filled a glass with 
 wine,— observing, " It is really eicellent : but I 
 am compelled to be more moderate than you." 
 
 Hardress began to feel rather drowsy: but he
 
 146 
 
 AOJTES; on, BEiDTY AND PLEA3PBE. 
 
 endeavoured to ehakc off tliis inclination to 8 
 ber ; and Cicely again pointed out some object 
 of interest in the distance. Hector turned to 
 look at it; and again were tbo contents of Miss 
 Neale's glass tossed from the window. Again too 
 after a little while, Cicelj's-fair band presented 
 a bumper to Hardress: and he, with an effort 
 against his increasing drowsiness, drank off the 
 
 Soon afterwards his eyelids felt as if thej 
 being weighed down ; and he said, " I am afraid. 
 Cicely, I have taken too much wine — or el 
 must be these cigars— they are uncommonly strong 
 — travelling too always makes me sleepy " 
 
 " Then why should you not sleep ?" ejaculated 
 the amiable Miss Nenle. "Come! take this seat 
 next to me — pillow your head on my shoulder 
 — and I will watch over you. You know," she 
 added gaily, " I must study how to play the part 
 of an affectionate wife, the better to deceive the 
 dear old aunt at York." 
 
 Hector— who now felt himself totally incapabh 
 of struggling against the increasing sense of droW' 
 siness- placed himself next to Cicely, and pillowed 
 his head upon her bosom. She tlu-ew her arm 
 around him, and began to hum a tune as if she 
 were rocking a child to sleep. 
 
 " This is delicious !" murmured Hector, in a 
 low languid voice ; and in a few minutes he slept 
 profoundly. 
 
 Several hours passed— during which many little 
 incidents occurred, in which Cicely and Luke Cor- 
 bet were the principal actors; while Hector Hard- 
 ress continued in a state of profound unconsci- 
 ousness. Four or five times during the lapse of 
 these hours, more of the drugged wine was poured 
 down bis throat, so as to retain him in that state 
 of stupefaction- Cicely being careful, however, not 
 to administer an excessive dose. 
 
 When Hector began slowly to awaken from the 
 long Irance into which he had been plunged, he 
 strove to collect bis ideas. But his head ached 
 fearfully, and his thoughts were all in confusion. 
 At length he became aware that he was in bed — 
 that he was not alone— and that a light was burn- 
 ing in the room. It was a strange room — he had 
 never been there before. Vague and jumbled re- 
 collections of railway travelling — Miss Neale — 
 Port- wine and cigars, began arising in his mind : 
 but he thought that he must be dreaming — until 
 contemplating the countenance of his companion, 
 who appeared to sleep, he recognised Cicely. 
 Then he pressed his hand to his brow, and began 
 to reflect more deliberately, until he so settled 
 all his ideas that he remembered everything that 
 had taken place down to the period when he fell 
 asleep with his head reposing on Cicely's bosom. 
 But not for a single instant did he suspect that 
 any treachery had been played upon him, or that 
 the wine was drugged. 
 
 And now, as he again turned his looks towards 
 Cicely Jfeale, her large blue eyes opened— her full 
 red lips parted with a gay smile ; and throwing 
 her arms round his neck, she said, "Why, my 
 dear Hector, the cigars and the wine did indeed 
 produce an effect upon you ! You were ^uite 
 tipsy — unless it were " 
 
 " Egad 1 I must have been so 1" be ejaculated. 
 "But where are we?" 
 
 " Where should we be but at York ?" responded 
 
 Cicely. " Did you not say that we were to put up 
 at the best hotel and engage the handsomest apart- 
 ments P" 
 
 " To bo sure ! all right !" ejaculated Hardross 
 " But what o'clock is it ?" 
 
 Cicely at once took her watch from beneath the 
 pillow i and though the bands indicated three 
 o'clock in the morning, she said quietly and col- 
 lectedly, " It is just half-past eleven." 
 
 The fact was that they had not been at tho 
 hotel for more than about three hours : but it did 
 not suit her purpose to let Hardress know how late 
 they had arrived there." 
 
 " Half-past eleven !" he exclaimed. " Then 
 how long have we been in bed ?" 
 
 " Tou, my dear Hector, were put to bed the 
 moment you were brought into the house," re- 
 plied Cicely : " but I did not retire till ten o'clock. 
 I did all I could to awake you— as did Luke 
 likewise : but we could not possibly succeed." 
 
 " This is extraordinary !" said Hardress. " I 
 never slept so before. I have a dreadful pain in 
 the head " 
 
 " Now, don't be alarmed, Hector," said Cicely : 
 " but I do verily believe that you had a rush of 
 blood to the head ; for while you were sleeping in 
 the train, your countenance was so flushed— you 
 breathed so heavily— and when we nrrived at 
 York, it was impossible, as 1 have already said, 
 for Luke and me to arouse you. But you are 
 better now i" 
 
 " Well, I don't know. I am awake— and that's 
 all that can be said. My head aches frightfully 
 — my tongue is parched — I would give the world 
 for some soda-water !" 
 
 " Just what I foresaw '." ejaculated Cicely, as 
 she leapt out of bed. " I ordered some to be 
 placed in the room." 
 
 " How kind of you !" said flardress : and tho 
 next moment he received a tumbler of the re- 
 freshing beverage from the fair hand of Miss 
 Neale. "What the deuce will the people of the 
 house think ?" he continued, as he gave her back 
 the glass. "They of course supposed that I was 
 dead drunk ; and here is a pretty beginning for 
 this old aunt of your's ! If it gets to ber ears, 
 she will form a nice estimate of my clmracter !" 
 
 "All this I have taken care of," replied Cicely, 
 as she returned to her place in the couch; "and 
 Luke was duly tutored by me. I represented that 
 you had been seized with a fit " 
 
 "Admirable Cicely !" cried Hardress. " It was 
 the best thing you could do. But what a ready 
 invention you possess 1" 
 
 " Yes— a very ready one," she said, laughing : 
 but there was a hidden meaning in her words. 
 "You must keep your chamber all day to-mor- 
 row ; and I will not communicate with my aunt 
 until the day after. If she do not learn when we 
 arrived, we need oClt no excuse for the delay in 
 paying our respects to her : but if she should find 
 it out, we need only repeat the same story which 
 I have told the servants of the hotel — and we may 
 throw in a little pathos about the delicate state of 
 your health — the excitement of travelling — and so 
 forth." 
 
 "True!" said Hardress: "and as for keeping 
 my chamber, I really think that I shall bo com- 
 pelled to do so; for I feel downright ill." 
 
 It must have been a flow of blood to tlic
 
 i ; OE, BEAITTT AND PLEASFEB. 
 
 147 
 
 head," observed Cicely ; " for jou did not drink 
 60 very much wine after all. I had my share of 
 it. as you know ; and it produced not the slightest 
 effect upon me." 
 
 " Then it mutt have been an effusion of blood," 
 rejoined Hector. " I will consult the family phy. 
 siciaa when I get back to London. But how was 
 I got to the hotel ?" 
 
 "Luke and I placed you in a hackney-vehicle," 
 answered Cicely; "and we brought you hither. 
 The moment the chaise stopped at the door, out 
 came the waiters. ' Can I have apartments,' I 
 said, *for my husband and myself, and for our 
 domestic ?' — The response was immediately in the 
 afErmativc.— ' My husband Mr. Hardress is very 
 ill," I said : ' he has had a fit, to which I regret to 
 say he is liable: but he will be well in a day or 
 two.'— The waiters assured me that every atten- 
 tion should be paid you : you were borne into the 
 hall ; and there the landlady herself came forward 
 to render her succour." 
 
 " You told Luke," said Hector, " to keep up the 
 story that wo were man and wife ? — for previous 
 to our setting off 1 had only just hinted to 
 
 in the face and tell him such a thing— although 
 he knows very well that I am travelling with you 
 as your mistress. But you best know whether 
 he is discreet or not ?" 
 
 "Ob, he is discretion itself!" rejoined Hector : 
 *' and DOW that 1 bethink me, I gave him suOl- 
 
 cient instructions Besides, even if I had not, 
 
 the fellow would not run out of hia way to let the 
 people of the hotel mto the secret. Whenever a 
 gentleman travels with a lady in this way, she al- 
 ways passes as bis wife." 
 
 " Well, then, there is no fear," said Cicely, as 
 if completely reassured. "But now compose your- 
 aelf to sleep— and you will be better ia the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 There was already a drowsiness coming over 
 Hector Hardress : he yielded to it ; and in a few 
 minutes he again slept profoundly. When he 
 nest awoke he found himself alone : but the light 
 of day was now shining brightly in at the win- 
 dows. Cicely, with her toilet only half achieved, 
 emerged from an adjoining dressing-room, on 
 hearing Hector move in the couch ; and throwing 
 her arms about his neck, she inquired how he felt. 
 
 "A little better— but only a little," ho an- 
 flwered. " I have a strange heaviness in the 
 head " 
 
 " Another sign," ejaculated Cicely, " that it 
 must have been an effusion of blood ! Eemain in 
 bed— I will see about your breakfast almost im- 
 mediately — and 1 will pass the whole of the day 
 with you in thi.s chamber." 
 
 Miss Nealc hastened bfick into the dressing- I 
 room, where she speedily finished her toilet : and j 
 she then rang the bell for one of the servants of 
 the establishment. 
 
 A chambermaid soon appeared : and Cicely 
 said, '■ My hu.sband is too ill to get up ■ 
 to breaktast : he will take it in bed. Will t 
 you not, dear Hector f" j 
 
 " I think I had better, my dearest wife," re- i 
 sponded Hardress, who thoirght it requisite to ap- 
 pear as uxoriously affectionate as she seemed to be i 
 
 fondly tender. 
 
 The chambermaid inquired what the lady and 
 gentleman would like for their breakfast ?— and 
 Cicely gave her the needful instructions. 
 
 " What a strange sound this Yorkshire dialect 
 has !" observed Hardress, when the young woman 
 had retired. " It is not unlike the Scotch." 
 
 " By no means unlike," replied Cicely ; " and I 
 have often heard the same thing remarked be- 
 fore." 
 
 The chambermaid soon reappeared : she spread 
 the breakfast-table ; and Cicely hastened to sup- 
 ply Hector with his repast. He however felt sick 
 at the stomach, and could scarcely force himself 
 to swallow two or three mouthfuls of toast ; 
 though he was faint for want of food. He how- 
 ever drank a considerable quantity of tea; and 
 this beverage refreshed him somewhat. 
 
 Scarcely was the breakfast over, when there was 
 a gentle tap at the door ; and Cicely hastened to 
 see who was there. It was the landlady, who had 
 come to inquire after Hector's health. As she was 
 an elderly matron. Cicely at once asked her to 
 walk in; and the landlady, advancing into the 
 middle of the room, said, " I hope, sir, you find 
 yourself better this morning?" 
 
 " Why, thank you, the tea has refreshed me a 
 little," replied Hector; "but still, as I was just 
 soying to Mrs. Hardress " 
 
 " His head is still very bad," said Cicely ; " and 
 even the slightest sound makes it ache worse. I 
 mean to iseep him quiet all day in this chamber." 
 
 "That's right," said the landlady. "But do 
 you not think, ma'am, that medical advice " 
 
 " My wife will tell you," exclaimed Hector, 
 " that I cannot endure the sight of a doctor " 
 
 " That is perfectly true," interrupted Miss 
 Nealo : then hastily turning to the landlady, she 
 said, " Leave us now ; for talking only makes his 
 head worse." 
 
 " I am going, ma'am," replied the landlady. 
 '■ But permit me to observe that every attention 
 which can be shown '.' 
 
 " Yes, yes— I know it ; and I thank you," in- 
 terjected Hardress. " My wife has told mo how 
 kiud you were last night " 
 
 The landlady's countenance suddenly wore a 
 singular expression— as well it might, on hearing 
 he.-self thus thanked for something she had not 
 done; for she was in bed asleep when the guests 
 arrived at the hotel. Cicely hastened to escort 
 the worthy matron to the door ; and as it closed 
 behind her. Hector said, " Well, on my soul ! tho 
 more I hear the people of this establishment 
 'speak, the more I am slruek by the peculiarity 
 of the Yorkshire dialect. I did not think it was 
 like what I find it to be." 
 
 " It is indeed peculiar," answered Cicely. 
 
 Hours passed on : Hector remained in bad— 
 :ind Miss Neale sat by the side of the conch, 
 conversing with him, oi- reading to him 
 from a hook which she had found in their sitting- 
 
 At length it was time to thint of ordering 
 diunrr; .■ind Hector now found himself so much 
 bi'tlcv that he expressed his ability to partake of 
 souu'tliiuL,' at that repast. He proposed to sum- 
 mon thL- chambermaid : but Cicely exclaimed with 
 a lau.;h, '■ A\Tiat ? — do you imagine she will know 
 anything about the larder ? Let us ring for the 
 waiter." 
 
 The bell was accordingly rung : the chamber.
 
 148 
 
 AOKEB; OS, BE&UIT AND PLEA8DBE. 
 
 mons; but she was ficsirpd ioje, their style of architecture, an'l their Reneral \ 
 
 mai'1 answered the 
 to send up the waiter. In a fnw minutes the 
 waiter made his appearance; and with a bow he 
 expressed a hope that Mr. Hardress felt better. 
 
 " My husband is decidedly better," said Cicely : 
 then in a whisper to Hector, she added, " These 
 people arc all determined to overwhelm us with 
 their civilities." 
 
 "What would you like for dinner, sir ?" asked 
 the waiter, shifting his napkin from beneath the 
 right arm to the left, because a hotel.waiter al- 
 ways seems as if he felt himself bound to accom- 
 pany his queries with a business-like gesture. 
 
 " Oh, I must leave it to my wife !" exclaimed 
 the young patrician. " Settle the matter with Mrs. 
 Hardress." 
 
 Cicely forthwith proceeded to order such little 
 delicacies as might appear best calculated to tempt 
 the appetite of the invalid ; and the waiter retired 
 to communicate his instructions to the cook. Hec- 
 tor now thought that he was well enough to get 
 up and move tnto the sitting-room, so that he 
 might enjoy his dinner with all the more comfort; 
 and Miss Keale offered no objection to the pro- 
 posal. The young patrician found himself refreshed 
 by his ablutions : the fact of moving about in the 
 room likewise tended to dispel the remnant of gid- 
 diness which he had experienced ; and by the time 
 dinner was in readiness to be served up, Hector 
 was also in readiness to partake of it. 
 
 The apartment where he now rejoined Cicely, 
 was well lighted and handsomely furnished. It 
 was the commencement of November : the weather 
 was exceedingly cold — a magnificent fire blazed in 
 the grate — and the draperies of the windows were 
 closed. The table was neatly laid ; and a smoking 
 tureen of soup was soon placed thereon. Hector 
 did justice to it: then followed fish, poultry, game, 
 and sweets in due succession; and Cicely's patri- 
 cian companion contrived to make an excellent 
 repast. He drank a few glasses of wine: his 
 spirits rose — he was in an excellent humour — and 
 as he contemplated Miss Neale, he thought to him- 
 self that she was a superbly grown young woman, 
 and that be should not at all mind if his present 
 trip with her was extended to a few weeks instead 
 of a few days, so long as she did not ask bim to 
 make her bis wife in reality. Presently— during 
 the interval between the dessert and the entrance 
 of coffee — Hector, rising from bis chair, lounged 
 ■owards one of the windows. Fulling oside the 
 curtains, he looked through the panes into the 
 wide street in which the hotel was situated; and 
 as he contemplated the features of that thorough, 
 fare by the light of the gas-lamps, he exclaimed, 
 "Well, I had not an idea that York was so fine a 
 
 ' Ah ! I recollect," said Miss Neale, "you men- 
 tioned, I think, when we were in London, that you 
 had then never been to York ?" 
 
 "Never," answered Hector : " this is the first 
 time. Whereabouts is the Cathedral ;■" 
 
 "Somewhere in that direction," rejoined 
 Cicely, who was now standing by his side at the 
 
 " And where may your delectable old mmt 
 live f" inquired Hector, with a pay laugh. 
 
 " I only know the name of the street," re- 
 sponded Cicely : " but I am ignorant of itswhere- 
 aboats. This is likewise my first visit to York." 
 
 " The longer I contemplate these lofty boild- 
 
 nppparance," continued Hector, " the more do they 
 remind me of the streets in Edinburgh." 
 
 " Indeed i" ejaculated Cicely. " Then Edin- 
 burgh must be a very fine city ?" 
 
 " Yes — some portions of it," responded Hard- 
 ress, — " all the new part. But what on earth is 
 that great towering object we behold yonder ? I 
 declare that it looks exactly like Edinburgh 
 Castle ?" 
 
 Why, that is York Castle, to be sure . ' re- 
 joined Cicely. " It is a famous building, as I have 
 read in books and have often been told. Come, 
 my dear Hector," she added, throwing her arm 
 round his neck, " let us return to the cheerful 
 fire; for everything looks so bleak and cold out 
 of doors, that it makes me shudder with a glacial 
 chUI." 
 
 The young patrician pressed his lips to those of 
 Cicely as her countenance was upturned towards 
 him ; and he suGfuted her to lead him back to bis 
 seat. Coffee was soon afterwards served up ; and 
 by the time the fragrant Mocha beverage was dis- 
 cussed it was ten o'clock. Miss Neale suggested 
 that they should retire to rest, for fear that Hector 
 might do himself harm by sitting up too long. He 
 had no objection to withdraw in such companion- 
 ship ; and they accordingly sought their chamber. 
 
 When they rose in tho morning, Hardres* 
 found himself perfectly well ; and he was in ex- 
 cellent spirits. 
 
 " Now, my dear girl," he said, laughing gaily aa 
 they sat down together at the breakfast-table, to 
 which Cicely at once hurried him without giving 
 him time to have a single peep from the window 
 of the sitting-room, " we must soon think of letting 
 the dear old aunt know that wo are at York." 
 
 " Yes, Hector — we can delay it no longer," re- 
 plied Cicely. " Oh, I promise you," she exclaimed, 
 now laughing in her turn, " we shall have some 
 excellent amusement ! But I was thinking how 
 it would flatter the old lady if you yourself were 
 to write her a little note, to be enclosed with 
 
 " And why shouldn't I ?" asked Hector. " By 
 all means let us keep up the joke ! There ! I have 
 done eating ! You may pour me out another cup 
 of coffee— and I will pen the note while you finish 
 your breakfast." 
 
 "Oh! I have also finished," ciied Miss Neale. 
 " Stay ! here are writing.materials. What fun it 
 is, to be sure !"— and Cicely laughed so as to dis. 
 play her brilliant teeth. 
 
 The next moment she spread out an open port, 
 folio on the table before Hector: she arranged 
 a sheet of paper — she dipped the pen in the ink — 
 I and she placed it in his hand, at the same time 
 I bending down and imprinting a careaa upon his 
 forehead. 
 
 "Now yon must dictate to me what I am 
 to say," exclaimed Hector. "_We will of 
 course' betnn by putting ' Yorl:, November the 
 third ' -" 
 
 " No. no ! never mind that now !" interrupted 
 Cicely Neale : "let us make haste ! Come, begin 
 with ' My dear Madam.' " 
 
 " Very weU !" said Hector, laughing : " have it 
 your own way ! And now i)roceed." 
 
 Cicely accordingly dictated the letter which 
 Hector wrote : hut "both dictation and writing 
 were frequently interrupted by merry peals of
 
 AGBESJ OB, BBACTT AND VLEi.3VRE. 
 
 149 
 
 laughter as well as by the playful exchange of 
 caresses. The letter, when completed, ran in the 
 foUowinft manner :— 
 
 " My dear Madam, 
 "Although this is the first time I have ever had 
 the honour and pleasure of addressing you, I have 
 nevertheless long known you well by repute ; for 
 your niece, my beloved Cicely, has frequently men- 
 tioned you to me in the most affectionate terms. 
 Believe me, therefore, when I convey to you the 
 assurance that it will nfford me infinite gratifica- 
 tion to make your acquaintance; and I hope to 
 have this pleasure with the least possible delay. 
 If I did not perform that which was no doubt a 
 duty in asking your assent to the alliance of your 
 niece Cicely with myself, it was because I feared 
 lest from any reason an obstacle should be thrown 
 in the way of our union. This declaration will 
 serve as a proof of my deep affection for her whom 
 I am proud and happy to call my wife ; and I am 
 confident that when we present ourselves to you, 
 you will look smilingly upon us and give us your 
 blessing. Believe me, my dear aunt — for so you 
 must now permit me to call you — the love I bear 
 for your dear Cicely is only equalled by the pride 
 with which 1 shall in a very short time present 
 her to my family. If there has been anything 
 secret and clandestine in the circumstances at- 
 tending our union, it arose entirely from family 
 reasons : but I am resolved that I will act in a 
 way that becomes a man who has no cause to 
 blush for the partner whom he has taken unto 
 himself. I could say much more: hut I prefer 
 withholding additional explanations until I have 
 the pleasure of accompanying my wife into your 
 presence, — an opportunity which I hope will bo 
 afforded me with the least possible delay. 
 "Believe me, my dear aunt, 
 
 " Tour's most dutifully, 
 
 " Hectoe Haedeess." 
 
 " Kxcellent !" ejaculated Cicely, lavishing ca- 
 resses upon the young patrician : " nothing could 
 be better! This will have its effect!" 
 
 " And now you must write r/our note," said 
 Hardress. 
 
 " Oh, it is already written and put into an en- 
 velope duly addressed !" cried Cicely, as she gaily 
 disengaged herself from the arm which Hector 
 h^d thrown about her waist : then, having rung 
 the bell, she said, " See ! I put your letter inside 
 myown— both under the same cover. Here! lend 
 me your ring with the crest on it, to seal the 
 envelope." 
 
 Hardress complied with the demand : ho also 
 folded and held a piece of paper to enable Cicely 
 to melt the wax for the sealing of the letter. 
 That seal was stamped with the young patrician's 
 crest ; and by the time this was done the waiter 
 entered the room in answer to the summons o£ the 
 beU. 
 
 "Bid our valet step up, if you please," said 
 Miss Neale. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am :" — and the waiter withdi-ew. 
 
 Cicely kept Hai-dress talking in front of the 
 fire until Luke mad** his appearance ; and then 
 bounding tcw.anls the T.ilet, she exclaimed, ' ' Take 
 
 this immediately to ihe post!'* she added, 
 
 suddenly sinking her voice to a whisper, and dart- 
 ing upon Corbet a significant look. 
 
 "Yes, Miss," replied the valet: and he inslau- 
 taneously quitted the room. 
 
 At the same moment Hector Hardress lounged 
 towards the window ; and on gazing through the 
 panes, he was struck by tho spectacle which met 
 his view. 
 
 " Good heavens. Cicely !" he exclaimed, " if I 
 did not know that wo were at York I could swear 
 that this was Edinburgh ! But if ever in my life 
 
 I saw Edinburgh Castle And by heavens! 
 
 there is something exactly like Scott's Menu- 
 meut ! Good God ! the railway-station too ! — 
 and this is Princes Street! Cicely, we are in 
 Edinburgh !" 
 
 " Yes— we are in Edinburgh," replied Mi53 
 IS'eale, with a tone, look, and manner of calm quiet . 
 confidence. 1 
 
 " Cicely ! what does it mean ?" asked the young [ 
 patrician, contemplating Miss Neale with affright 
 and dismay, and with suspicions of some treachery 
 agitating in his mind, though he knew not what 
 it was that ho suspected. " Cicely!" he repeated 
 with vehemence, " what does it mean, 1 ask?" 
 
 " It means," she rejoined, in the same collected 
 manner as before, " that I am your wife according 
 to the law of Scotland— and this law holds good in 
 England." 
 
 A cry- or rather yell of savage rage burst from 
 the lips of Hector Hardress, as the whole truth 
 blazed upon him like a fiood of overwhelming 
 light. He made one bound forward to dash 
 Cicely upon the floor : but her demeanour over- 
 awed him ; and with a hollow moan he sank anni- 
 hilated upon a seat. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE STEiTEGIC MAKEIAGE. 
 
 Yb3— SO dignified, yet without the slightest arro- 
 gance, was the mien of Cicely Neale— so full of 
 confidence, yet without any display of overweening 
 triumph, was her look— so resolute her hearing for 
 the purpose of seif-defence — that Hector Hard- 
 ress was overawed and discomfited. Her tall form 
 was drawn up to its full height : there was a 
 gentle flush upon her cheeks -~ there was the 
 steadiness of a heroine in her gaze ; and yet with 
 all that queenUness of demeanour, there was the 
 indescribable gloss of a lady's elegance and grace 
 over all. 
 
 Hector Hardress was ghastly pale : his under 
 jaw had fallen as if the hand of death were upon 
 him : his half-open mouth afforded a singularly 
 vacant expression to blend with the look of di»- 
 may and consternation which otherwise marked 
 his countenance. He lay back rather than 
 sat in the chair, his eyes riveted upon Cicely 
 — his whole demeanour seeming as if the 
 fierce rage of the hyena had been suddenly sub- 
 dued in the overawed pusillanimity of the spaniel. 
 Never was a woman more imposing in her 
 calm dignity than Miss Neale at that moment ! 
 — never was a man more completely cowed, ci-ushed, 
 and overwhelmed than Hardress at that same 
 time ! 
 
 There was a deep silence for upwards of two or 
 three miimtes ; and then Cicely, breaking that 
 pau&e, said in a calm, quiet tone, '' If you value
 
 160 
 
 i; OB, BBAUTT ASD PLEA9UBE. 
 
 your own self-respect, Hector— and if you would 
 BTcid drawiD*; down the laugh of ridicule on your 
 head — you nill abstain from any disturbance 
 ivilbin the walls of this hotel." 
 
 " By God !" vociferated Hardress, springing up 
 
 from his seat, " it is the foulest trick But 
 
 ]'Bhaw ! it can't possibly hold good !" 
 
 " Do not endearour to delude your mind with 
 this fallacious hope," responded Cicely. " The 
 most foolish of all men is he who deceives him- 
 self." 
 
 " But it is a cheat— a fraud !" cried Hector, the 
 fury of whose rage was subdued by the sickening 
 sense of the fact that there might be really more 
 validity in his acknowledgment of Miss Neale as 
 bis wife than he was willing to admit. " It is 
 utterly impossible that 1 can be held bound by 
 any such absurd stratagem ! What ? just because 
 1 have called you my vife in the presence of a 
 servant or two " 
 
 " Listen, Hector !" interrupted Cicely ; " and 
 at least study to envisage your position in all its 
 bearings. Not for a moment do I hesitate to con- 
 fess that a trick has been perpetrated oa my part : 
 but let us see to what extent all its details are 
 ramified. In the first place I have your agree- 
 ment, duly signed end attested, to the effect that 
 in ten days you will make me your wife. At the 
 expiration of that time we appear in Edinburgh : 
 you speak of me as your wife in ihe presence of 
 the chambermaid, the landlady, and the waiter : 
 you call me Mrs. Sardres9~jou seem in their 
 estimation to be straining for every opportunity 
 to give them to understand and to impress it upon 
 them that 1 am really your wife. But you do 
 more ! Tou write to my aunt, telling her tbat I 
 am your wife — apologizing for our clandestine 
 union— declaring that you will shortly present me 
 to your family — invoking that aunt's bless- 
 ing " 
 
 "Ob, but this is monstrous. Cicely !" exclaimed 
 Hector, stamping bis foot with impotent rage. 
 " That aunt of your's is doubtless a creation of the 
 fancy ! ' 
 
 " What ?' ejaculated Miss Neale, laughing : 
 " Mrs. limperley a creation of the fancy ?" 
 
 '• Mrs. Timperley !" echoed Hardress, with re- 
 newed consternation. 
 
 "Tes, to be sure!" rejoined Cicely : " that is the 
 aunt to whom you have written; and the letter 
 has already gone to the post, enclosed in one from 
 myself, dated from Edinburgh, and written in a 
 strain not very dissimilar to your own." 
 
 Once more was Hardress rendered utterly 
 aghast : he was crushed aod overwhelmed. But 
 suddenly recollecting something, he exclaimed 
 furiously, " Then that villain Luke is your accom- 
 plice!" 
 
 " An accomplice do you call it ?' said Miss 
 Jfeale tjuietly. "Well, I at once admit that he 
 has succoured me in my undertakings " 
 
 "' Ah, by heaven ! X suspect something!" ejacu- 
 lated Hector, upon whose brain light after light 
 
 was bursting, '■ That scene at Sidney Villa 
 
 tell me. Cicely, it was not accidental— you were 
 forcwariied — you were there on purpose — it waa 
 all a deep-laid plot— and this is the result ?" 
 
 " It is useless for us now to descend into these 
 details," replied Cicely. " Let us speak of those 
 things which immediately coocern us. 1 have 
 
 confessed that Luke Corbet has aided me on 
 several occasions. 1 like not a spy any more than 
 you can like him : the man who has sold his ser- 
 vices to me at a price, would sell them to any one 
 else for a higher bribe. Therefore, if you and I 
 are to live iggether, I should propose to reward 
 him liberally and discharge him, but with a cha- 
 racter tbat will obtain for him a situation else- 
 where. If, on the contrary," continued Miss 
 Neale, speaking as if the alternatives which aha 
 thus put were a matter of indifference to her, 
 *' we do not live together, you can of course dis- 
 pose of your valet as you like— but I shall reward 
 him." 
 
 While Miss Neale was thus speaking, Hector 
 Hardress was redecling with a calmer deliberation 
 than he had yet experienced since the develop- 
 ment of the stratagem whereof be was the dupe. 
 He saw that if he were really tied by indissoluble 
 bonds to Cicely- if she were indeed his lawful 
 wife— it would be useless for him to assume a hos- 
 tile attitude ; for by so doing the whole truth 
 would become known to the world and he would 
 be unmercifully laughed at in society. If there- 
 fore the marriage was actually valid, he felt that 
 it would ba better to make a merit of necessity, 
 to put a good face upon the affair, and to pretend 
 that it was altogether a love-match ; so that in- 
 stead of experiencing ridicule, he would become 
 the object of additional interest in the sphere in 
 which he moved. He in consequence resolved to 
 take advice upon the subject, and ascertain 
 exactly how he really did staud with regard to his 
 lady-companion. 
 
 It must not however be supposed that because 
 he came to this determination, or because he was 
 enabled to reflect deliberately, he was either com- 
 pletely cool or resigned to his lot. Nothing of 
 the sort. It was merely that his rage was much 
 subdued by the consciousness of the iautility of 
 displaying it, and tbat he felt himself to be in a 
 position where it was advisable to act with policy 
 rather tban with passion. 
 
 " Cicely," he said, " I am going out for an hour. 
 I do not hesitate to confess that my object is to 
 ascertain to what extent I am really enmeshed by 
 the toils you have laid to ensnare me." 
 
 " By all means do so !" responded Cicely, with 
 an air of calm confidence. " I cannot have tha 
 slightest objection. But remember that if you 
 run away altogether, I shall not be the less your 
 wife— and I shall hasten to London to seek you at 
 
 '• I pledge myself," rejoined Hector, " that I will 
 come back in one bour. Whatever be the result 
 of the inquiries I am about to institute, you and 1 
 must come to an amicable understanding to- 
 gether." 
 
 " No doubt of it," answered Cicely. 
 
 Hector inclined his head slightly by way of 
 s;ilutation — snatched up his hat — and hastened 
 from the room. Kl' met Luke Corbet upon the 
 stairs; but he stopped not to say a word to his 
 valet : ho was determined to take no step of any- 
 important nature until he should have first con- 
 sulted an advocate n ith respect to his true pontioD 
 towards Cicely. 
 
 Immediately after bis departure from the hoteli 
 Luke Corbet— who had been upon the watch, and 
 who was most anxious to know how matters pro-
 
 AGXE8; OB, BKAUir AND PLEASnBK. 
 
 greesed— ascended to the apartmeat where Cicely 
 remaioed. 
 
 " May I hope, Mies — ma'am— Mrs. Hardress," 
 said Luke, not exactly knowiog how to address the 
 yonog lady, " that all goes well f I knew that the 
 mystery must be discovered tbis morning : I felt 
 convinced it could not be maintained any longer ; 
 and when you gave me that letter to put in the 
 
 p«9t " 
 
 "And that letter has gone to the post?" in- 
 quired Cicely. 
 
 "Yes, Miss— within five minutes after it wag in 
 my hand," was the response. 
 
 "Everything progresses according to my best 
 wishes, Luke," said Miss Ncale. "I feel con. 
 vinced that in another hour I shall be recognised 
 as your master's wife. But whatsoever may bo 
 the result, here is a handsome reward for you. 
 You have served me well and faithfully." 
 
 Thus speaking, she placed hank.notes to the 
 amount of a hundred pounds in Luke's hand ; and 
 the valet expressed his gratitude in words and 
 with many profound saluiations, 
 
 " I think all was managed eicellently. Miss ?" 
 said the man. " The wine did its work— and the 
 shiftings from one railway line to another passed 
 off admirably." 
 
 " It was impossible that anything could have 
 been better," replied Cicely. " But, as I told you 
 at the lime, everything depended on that wine." 
 
 Luke withdrew; and Cicely waited in calm con- 
 fidence for Hector's return. When she was again 
 alone in the room, she did not give way to any 
 passionate outburst of exultation — she did not 
 abandon herself to any enthusiastic ebullition of 
 joy : her demeanour was that of one who had suc- 
 cessfully accomplished a scheme which from the 
 very outset she had been certain of achieving. 
 The reader must not however suppose, from these 
 observations, that she was indifferent with regard 
 to tUis success : on the contrary, there was a deep 
 inward satisfaction— but it was rational, sedate, 
 and without agitation. 
 
 Id about an hour Hector returned. He was 
 very pale ; but the expression of his countenance 
 was that of a calm firmness, as if he had resolved 
 on some particular course to be pursued. He 
 closed the door; and taking off his hat, advanced 
 towards Cicely, saying with a slight bow, " I re- 
 cognise you as Mrs. Hardress." 
 
 Cicely had foreseen this ; she felt convinced that 
 such would be the course into which Hector would 
 find himself by circumstances impelled. Never- 
 theless, when thus recognised as a wife — when ad- 
 dressed in tbis manner for the first time without 
 fiction or pretence— when suddenly struck by the 
 consciousness that she was no longer a 
 honoured young woman in her own estimation, 
 but that she could lift her head high and look the 
 world in the face— she did now at length expe 
 tience a strong enthusiasm of the feelings ; and 
 for a moment they so far overpowered her that she 
 sank down upon a seat, quivering with emotion, 
 She could have wept : indeed up to the very 
 brims of her eyelids rose the tears — but by 
 strong effort she kept them back ; and recovering 
 her self-possession, she said, " You are now con- 
 vinced, Hector, that I have in nothing miscalcu*^ 
 lated the effects of my proceedings ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam," he replied, sternly, " I have 
 
 indeed learnt that by stratagem and fraud you 
 have established a claim upon me ; and that claim 
 I have already recognised. You are the Hon. 
 Mrs. Hardress." 
 
 There was a deep silence for a few minutes, — 
 during which Hector had likewise taken a chair, 
 on which he sat with a cold stern expression of 
 countenance ; and Cicely appeared not to be 
 atebing him, though she was really doing so 
 with a furtive but earnest attention, 
 
 I presume," Hector at length said, " that the 
 story of the thirty thousand pounds is as much a 
 fiction as the aunt at York ? But of course it is ! 
 
 1 a fool to ask such a question." 
 
 And what if I really posst-ssed thirty thousand 
 
 ads ?" said Cicely, now alfcoting to play with 
 her kerchief, but in reality still fixing her eyes 
 penetratingly upon Heetor. 
 
 3f what avail to put such a query ?" he de- 
 manded, with a cold disdain, slightly broken by an 
 accent and a gesture of impatience ; " for I well 
 know that you have nothing, and that you are de- 
 pendent on the Timperleys for everything." 
 
 Be not too sure of that which yon assert," re- 
 joined Cicely, in a tone which was sufficiently 
 peculiar to make Hector start and survey her with 
 
 "If you possess thirty thousand pounds," he 
 said, " there would be something like a better 
 excuse than any I can yet offer to the world for 
 having "—ho gulped at the word, and then added, 
 " for having married you." 
 
 " Within four-and-twenty hours after my re- 
 turn to London," replied Cicely, — " I do not say 
 our return, because I know not whether you ac- 
 company me " 
 
 " Suppose that I do," interjected Hardress ; 
 " what then ? Within four-and-twenty hours of 
 
 our return " 
 
 " I will produce to you the proofis," rejoined 
 Cicely, " that I have thirty thousand pounds of 
 my own— but every shilling of which, remember 1 
 will be settled on myself." 
 
 " Is this true. Cicely ?" exclaimed Hector in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 " You know my character and my dispositiiin," 
 answered the young lady proudly : "judge thereby 
 whether it is likely that I should descend to such 
 a mean useless falsehood. Y'ou have found mo 
 playing a deep game and carrying out an intri- 
 cate stratagem. But wherefoi-e ? Because you 
 yourself had deceived me for a long time past: 
 indeed, you had deceived me from the very begin- 
 ning ! Everything, therefore, was fair which I 
 might do in order to compel you to render me an 
 act of justice. Now I have succeeded; and I 
 shall not think of deluding you with the idea that 
 1 possess a fortune in order to win for a couple or 
 three days those attentions which would be more 
 than ever withdrawn if the instant should come 
 for me to confess to you that it was a deoep. 
 tion." 
 
 " But how is it possible. Cicely " 
 
 " No matter how it is possible," she interrupted 
 him. "I tell you that within twenty-four hours 
 
 after my arrival in London " 
 
 " If I thought this," ejaculated Hector, starting 
 up from his chair, — " if X thought that you really 
 possessed such a fortune in your own riglit— why, 
 I should care much less and then too, it would
 
 smooth down a thonsanJ difficulties my father 
 
 anil mother would be the more likely And 
 
 after all, Cicely, you are very penteel and pood- 
 looking But thirty thousand pounds ! I don't 
 
 see how, unless old Timperley " 
 
 "Never mind how it becomes mine!" inter- 
 rupted Cicely. " I swear to you that if I 
 fulfil not my word, I will leave England — I will 
 flee away to another country — I will leave 
 you unmolested — and you shall never hear of me 
 
 Hector was now convinced that Cicely was 
 speaking the truth; and he exclaimed, "If you 
 fulfil your words, it will mitigate much of the 
 bitterness that I now feel !" 
 
 CHAPIEE XXVIII. 
 
 cicely's BOWBT. — THE IKIAl. 
 
 It was on the second day after that of which we 
 have just been writing, and a considerable sensa- 
 tion prevailed in the precincts of the Old Bailey j 
 for this was the day fixed for the trial of Winifred 
 BarringtoD. 
 
 We have before noticed how great was the ex- 
 citement produced in the metropolis by all the de- 
 tails attending the foul crime of which she was 
 accused ; and though this excitement had sus- 
 tained a lull during an interval of a month since 
 the tragedy had taken place, it was now revived 
 by the approaching judicial investigation. A true 
 bill had been returned by the Grand Jury ; and 
 as the public could only judge of the case from 
 the statements which had been published in the 
 newspapers — and as nothing had transpired of 
 what Winifred had privately communicated to 
 Mr. Wardour, the barrister, after the examination 
 at the police-court— the general impression was 
 most unfavourable to the prisoner. Yet there 
 was not a total absence of sympathy. It was 
 known that she was young, of interesting appear- 
 ance, and an orphan : it was known likewise that 
 she had supported her aged grandfather in prison ; 
 nor less was it currently rumoured that there were 
 some few individuals who entertained an idea of 
 her innocence. Amongst these was Mrs. Slater, 
 the worthy landlady of the house where Winifred 
 had resided at the time of her arrest ; and Mrs. 
 Slater had lost not a single opportunity of pro- 
 claiming that idea to every one with whom she 
 conversed on the subject. Not that she had any 
 positive ground for making the assertion : it arose 
 simply from her knowledge of Winifred's cha- 
 racter and the faith which the good woman there- 
 fore bad in her young friend. 
 
 And how had Winifred endured a montli's im- 
 prisonment in Newgate ? She had been very ill ; 
 and she remained the whole time in the Infirmary. 
 She was several times visited by Mrs. Slater and 
 Mr. Wardour : she received two or three kind 
 messages from Miss Etelyn, sent through the 
 medium of Eaehel : but Agnes deemed it prudent 
 not to visit the young seamstress in the prison, 
 for the newspapers mentioned the names of those 
 who sought her there, and this was a degree of 
 publicity which Miss Evelyn naturally shrank 
 from. 
 Yes— Winifred had been very ill in one gaol_ 
 
 while her old grandfather was confined to his bed 
 in the infirmary of another. As often as it was 
 possible Mrs. Slater went to see the old man, to 
 whom she bore the tenderest messages from his 
 grand-daughter ; and to Winifred did she carry 
 back whatsoever affectionate sayings the old man 
 himself had to send. But though still perfectly 
 lucid in respect to his law affairs, Mr. Barrington 
 seemed to have become comparatively childish 
 when speaking of the terrible calamity that had 
 overtaken Winifred. He vehemently protested 
 his conviction of her innocence, though with- 
 out seeming to have any definite idea of 
 how she could be innocent, and at times he 
 would passionately affirm that it was all a vile 
 trick on the part of his enemies the Dalhams to 
 crush him entirely. 
 
 Within two or three days of the trial, Wini- 
 fred appeared suddenly to commence regaining 
 her physical strength, as if it thus came back by 
 an effort of her own will. It was the natural 
 result of her mind gathering together the scat- 
 tered remnants of its fortitude, as she felt the ne- 
 cessity of arming herself with all her courage for 
 the approaching ordeal. Thus, when the memo- 
 rable morning came, she almost felt as if she had 
 not been ill at all ; she dressed herself with neat- 
 ness — she partook slightly of the meal that was 
 served to her ; and she assured the matron in the 
 infirmary that she was thoroughly nerved for the 
 occasion. But when the fatal moment arrived for 
 Winifred to appear in the dock— when she was 
 proceeding thither, and knew that she must almost 
 immediately stand in the presence of the Judges, 
 in the midst of a crowded court, the one object on 
 whom all regards would be riveted — her courage 
 seemed to fail, her knees bent under her, and 
 she would have fallen, if the turnkey who was 
 conducting her had not suddenly lent his arm to 
 sustain her drooping form. The contact of that 
 man, who in Winifred's eyes was the very per- 
 sonification of Newgate and all its associated hor- 
 rors, suddenly startled her into the keenest sense 
 of vitality again ; and she continued hoc way. A 
 few instants more, and she was in the dock ! 
 
 The Judges had taken their seats— the barris- 
 ters were assembled — the jury were being sworn 
 -the court was crowded almost to suffocation. 
 There was the buzzing, humming tone of subdued 
 whispered discourse, as AVinifred entered the 
 dock: but the moment she made her appearance, a 
 dead silence fell upon the assemblage, and all eyes 
 were fixed upon her. Winifred strove to main- 
 tain her composure— or at least to support herself 
 with a becoming fortitude : but she beheld nothing 
 distinctly. There was in her mind the strong and 
 painful knowledge that she was the focus for the 
 regards of all present : she felt as it were that 
 countless eyes were riveted upon her— but she 
 distinguished them not. The tribunal seemed to 
 swim round — to grow larger and larger— to bo 
 filled with forms which kept on dilating in pro- 
 portion as the dimensions of the place itself thus 
 extended— until she lost all idea of where the walla 
 could be, and felt as if she were in the midst of a 
 lultitude stretching all around to the very hori- 
 on itself. But all in a moment she was awakened 
 p from this species of feverish reverie by her 
 elbow being nudged ; and the turnkey whispered 
 in her ear, " You must plead !" 
 
 Then suddenly — as if a new phase in the pane-
 
 AaNE8j OB, BEAUTY ASD PLEASURE. 
 
 Trr^.-^ 
 
 rams lad presented ilstlf with ligblning rapiditj 
 —Winifred Barrington beheld everything with 
 clearness. Tlitre were the Judges upon the bench 
 — there Iho jury in the box— there, seated at the 
 table, were the barristers, amongst whom was Mr. 
 Wardour ; and all around were the densely 
 packed masses of spectators. The clerk of the 
 court was asking Winifred whether she were 
 guilty or not guilty ? 
 
 "Not guilty," she replied, in a voice which was 
 low but clear and distinctly audible, and the firm- 
 ness of which astonished even herself. 
 
 Then the counsel for the prosecution rose to 
 open the case. At that moment an individunl, 
 having the appearance of the " boots " or porter 
 at a tavern, contrived to force his way through 
 the crowd in the body of the court; and making 
 towards the barristers' table, ho touched the arm 
 of an old gentleman who was standing just behind 
 Mr. Wardour. 
 
 No. 20.— Aqkes. 
 
 Beg your pardon, a 
 iper : "but I believi 
 
 said tho man in n 
 )u are Mr. Timper. 
 
 "Yes— that is my n 
 known solicitor of Linco 
 do you want?" 
 
 " I was charged, sir," answered tho man, " to 
 deliver this note into your hands." 
 
 " Ah !" said Mr. Timperley, at once recognising 
 the handwriting ; and he opened the billet. •" I 
 will come directly," he added, when he had glanced 
 over the few lines which formed the 
 
 The hotel-porter— for such thn man was— re- 
 mained to have a good stare at Winifred Barring- 
 ton ; and having thus gratified his curiosity, ho 
 again worked his way through the crowd : but 
 Mr. Timperley had preceded him, and was already 
 issuing from tho court. The lawyer hurried down 
 the Old Bailey— passed into Ludgate Street— and
 
 154 
 
 AGh-E?; OK, BEACTT AXD PLEASCBE. 
 
 thence into Bridge Street, Blackfriars. llore he 
 entered a large and well-known family hotel ; and 
 addressing bimeelt' to a waiter in the hall, he said, 
 " I wish to see Mrs. Hardress." 
 
 " This way, if you please, sir :"— and the do- 
 mestic conducted the attorney up the staircase to 
 n handsomely furnished sitting-room on the first 
 
 Cicely, who was alone in that room until Mr. 
 Timperley thus made his appearance, started up 
 from the sofa where she was seated ; and hastening 
 to greet the old man, she esclaimed, " ily dear 
 uncle, I am delighted to see you !" 
 
 " And I, my dear Cicely, am very glad to see 
 you," responded the lawyer, as he shook her band 
 warmly. " Well, you have done something good 
 for yourself : but you have lost me, I fear, an ex- 
 cellent client " 
 
 " How so ?" ejaculated Cicely in astonishment. 
 
 *' Why, don't say a word to your husband Hector 
 — for it is more or less a secret — but I have been 
 engaged to some litile extent for his father Lord 
 Mendlesham, for many years past." 
 
 "His father cannot yet know of our marriage," 
 observed Cicely. 
 
 "Well, but he musthenrof it soon," rejoined 
 Mr. Timperley ; "and he will be sure to think that 
 I have intrigued to bring this marriage about. But 
 no matter, my dear girl ! You are the Hon. Mrs. 
 Hardress to all intents and purposes — and you 
 will some day be Lady Mendlesham. Tou have 
 brought honour into the family, my dear— I am 
 proud of you. Your aunt will receive you with 
 open arms But when did you arrive from Scot- 
 land ?" 
 
 " Late kst night," answered Cicely,—" too lato 
 to call in Lincoln's Inn Fields?" 
 
 " And your husband Mr. Hardress f" said the 
 lawyer ; " I have not as yet had the pleasure of 
 his acquaintance." 
 
 " I purposely suggested a variety of commis. 
 sions for him to perform, and which will oc- 
 cupy him for an hour or so— because I wished to 
 see you alone in the first instance. He has gone 
 out." 
 
 " Ah, you sly puss. Cicely I" excla-.-ncd the law- 
 yer : " now at length it is all explained why 
 you begged your aunt a little while back to let 
 you have two or three hundred pounds. No won- 
 der that you would not explain your object, but 
 that you assured her the use of the money would 
 be greatly beneficial to your interests ! You were 
 preparing this surprise for us ; and I suppose that 
 as Hector with his extravagancies is never very flush 
 in a pecuniary sense, you had to bear all the ex- 
 penses !" 
 
 " You have not guessed very widely of the mark, 
 my dear uncle," answered Cicely, whom we must 
 now call Mrs. Hardress. 
 
 " But how came you to know that I was in the 
 court, waiting to hear the trial of that unhappy 
 girl ?" asked Mr. Timperley. 
 
 " Immediately after breakfast," replied Cicely, 
 "I sent the hotel-porter to Lincoln's Inn Fields; 
 but he returned with the intelligence that you had 
 gone to the Old Bailey to hear the trial. So then 
 
 I penned that note " 
 
 " Ah ! and you say in it," ejaculated Mr. Tim 
 i perley, " that it is highly important you should see 
 I me without delay. Fray be quick with your es- 
 
 S ■ : 
 
 planations, my dear Cicely," continued the lawyer; 
 " for I am anxious to hear this trial. You are 
 aware that the prisoner is the grand.daughter of | 
 my client Mr. Barrington, the poor old man 
 who has been for so many years in a debtora" 
 prison." 
 
 " I sbsU not detain you long," replied Cicely. 
 " But how think you it will go with Winifred Bar- 
 rington .'" 
 
 " Ah ! how can it go with her," exclaimed Mr. 
 Timperley, shaking his head in an ominous man- 
 ner, " in the face of all the evidence which is ac- 
 cumulated against her ? But there is one very 
 
 strange thing— I can't at all make it out " 
 
 And what is that ?" inquired Mrs. Hardress 
 quickly. 
 
 " Why, by some means or another a person has 
 got upon the jury— an individual who csn scarcely 
 have any right to be there — and what it means I 
 cannot understand." 
 
 " Do you suppose that he is prejudiced against 
 Winifred Barrington, or that he b favourable to 
 her r" asked Cicely. 
 
 " Well, there again I am puijled," rejoined the 
 lawyer. " He ought to be prejudiced — it is in 
 the nature of things that ho should be ; and yet 
 on the other hand, from certain information wHch 
 I received about a month back " 
 
 " Well," interrupted Cicely, " you are in a 
 hurry to return to the court— and I likewise have 
 plenty to do with my time ; for I must hasten and 
 pay my respects to my aunt in Lincoln's Inn 
 Fields." 
 
 " To be sure !" said Mr. Timperley. " Now 
 therefore for this business " 
 
 " My dear uncle," interrupted Mrs. Hardress, 
 " have the kindness to answer me a few questions. 
 Your replies will constitute the best possible pre- 
 face to the business which I have to introduce." 
 
 " Proceed, my dear girl," said the lawyer, who 
 now be;an to tliiok there was something pecu- 
 liar in the tone and manner of his niece, as well 
 as in the way in which she contemplated 
 
 " In the first place, my dear uncle," 
 Cicely, " as you have not any relative of your own, 
 
 I presume that you regard myself as your wife's 
 nearest relative " 
 
 "To be sure! I understand you!" exclaimed 
 Mr. Timperley : " I regard you as my own nearest 
 relative. Was not your father the brother of my 
 
 "Well then," continued Cicely, "regarding me 
 as your nearest relative, you of course inteni to 
 make me your heiress ?" 
 
 " My dear girl, what a question !" ejaculated 
 the lawyer. " Do you know that it is highly im- 
 proper " 
 
 " I only know that I want an answer to my 
 query," interrupted Mrs. Hardress. " But I will 
 suppose it already given, ^^'ell then, I am to con. 
 sider myself your heiress. Now, you are im- 
 mensely rich — and it will not hurt you to put me 
 in immediate possession of a portion of the ample 
 fortune which you intend to leave me in your 
 will." 
 
 Mr. Timperley started from his seat— angrily 
 snatched up his hat— and said in a sharp quick 
 manner, "If this is the important business, Mrs. 
 Hardress, for which you have summoned me hither, 
 
 I I beg to decline discussing it with you. Indeed, I
 
 AOSE8 ; OE, BEADIT ASD PLEASUEE. 
 
 155 
 
 -But : 
 
 matter ! Good i 
 
 " One word, if you please, my dear uncle," said 
 Cicely in a quiet tone. " You know not how much 
 the idea that is doatins in my mind, regards your 
 own best interests." 
 
 *' What on earth do you mean ?" demanded 
 Mr. Timperley, stopping short as he was proceed- 
 ing towards the door. " What can she mean ?" 
 he inwardly asked of himself; for as he turned 
 his looks towards her, there was something in the 
 expression of her countenance which again struck 
 him as most peculiar. 
 
 " You are ilattered, my dear uncle," said Cicely, 
 " that I should hu»o formed such a brilliant match 
 —you will be able to boast of your niece, the 
 Hon. Mrs. Hardress for the present — Lady 
 Mendlosham hereafter— you aro now allied as it 
 were to a very aristocratic family -" 
 
 "And what of all this?" demanded the lawyer 
 »harply. 
 
 " With such advantages accruing to yourself," 
 responded Cicely, " you cannot possibly sufler mo 
 to be a dowerless bride. In short, my dear uncle, 
 I have taken it upon myself to promise Hector 
 that my dowry shall amount to thij-ty thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 " Cicely, you are mad !" exclaimed the lawyer : 
 and he actually for the moment fancied that his 
 niece was taking leave of her senses. 
 
 " I never was moro sane in my life," she re- 
 joined, with an amiable smile, but with a look 
 which implied confidence in the part which she 
 was performing. " Thirty thousand pounds " 
 
 "Eidioulous, Cicely!" cried the lawyer, with a 
 gesture of impatience. " Do you think that I am 
 going to give my hard-earned wealth to be dissi- 
 pated by the extravagancies of your patrician 
 husband?" 
 
 "It is only a negotiation which I am opening," 
 answered Ciooly : then taking a paper from her 
 bosom, she said, " Is this letter, my dear uncle, 
 worth thirty thousand pounds ?" 
 
 Mr. Timperley, at the sight of that document, 
 started as if bitten by a serpent : most hideously 
 ghastly became his countenance; and it was a 
 strange hollow gaze of dismay and consternation 
 which he fixed upon his niece. Her looks were 
 now no longer unintelligible to him: he compre- 
 hended the meaning of that calm confidence— that 
 tranquil assurance, which her manner had through- 
 out been displaying. 
 
 " You see, uncle, that I know everythuig," she 
 eald impressively: "but without another syllable 
 of discussion let us bring this matter to an issue. 
 Write me a cheque for thirty thousand pounds — 
 or give me your undertaking that that amount 
 shall be forthcoming in the course of to-morrow 
 — and this letter is yours, to be burnt in that 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the strange 
 horrified gaze which Mr. Timperley fixed upon 
 Cicely, as she still displayed the letter, but at the 
 same time taking care to hold it in such a man* 
 ner that it could not be suddenly snatched out of 
 her hand. Her own looks now denoted an im. 
 placable determination, though there was nothing 
 overbearing in theoi. 
 
 "How came you by that letter?' asked ili-. 
 Ximperlcy, in % low hollow Toic«. 
 
 " I cannot tell you," answered Cioely. ".Suffice 
 it for you to know that if it bo destroyed in 
 yonder fire" — and she pointed to the grate — "no 
 living soul but myself and you could proclaim 
 what its contents were." 
 
 " Is it so. Cicely ?" ejaculated the lawyer, put- 
 ting the question with tremulous earnestness: 
 " are you tolling me the truth ? But your hus- 
 band " 
 
 " Think you I would have entrusted him with 
 such a secret ?" cried Mrs. Hardress disdainfully. 
 " Do you suppose that Hector accompanied me 
 willingly into Scotland for the purpose of recog- 
 nising me as his wife ? I!^o, no ! — your own good 
 sense tells you that there was an under-current of 
 circumstances- perhaps coercion- perhaps strata, 
 gem— on my part. And that something of this 
 sort has actually occurred, you can only too well 
 surmise from the fact of my having obtained a 
 sum of money from my aunt a little while back, 
 wherewith to carry on my proceedings. You see, 
 therefore, that I am no ordinary person — that I 
 possess energy, perseverance, and prudence. I 
 had my fortune to make— and I am making it. I 
 have entrusted to my husband no secret which 
 could in any way give him a power over myself 
 or any one connected with me." 
 
 " I never till now. Cicely, comprehended your 
 real character," answered the lawyer; "though I 
 have ilattered myself that none was more skilful 
 than I in reading the human heart. But this sum 
 which you demand ■" 
 
 " I dare not take a shilling less," interjected 
 Cicely; "for I have promised Hector that my 
 dower shall be thirty thousand pounds." 
 
 " Consider, my dear girl," said Mr. Timperley, 
 now adopting a cujoling tone and look, " the sum 
 is immense ! You would not play the part of 
 intimidation and coercion towards your uncle ! 
 Have I not given you a home ?— has not your 
 aunt advanced -you money on the mere faitii of 
 your assurance that it was for your benefit?" 
 
 "And am not I doing you an immense se-vioe," 
 exclaimed Cicely, "by putting in your possession 
 tliis document ?" 
 
 • "True, true, my dear girl!" ejaculated the 
 lawyer : " I do indeed recognise the extent of 
 this service. And nevor to your husband- and 
 never to your aunt " 
 
 "Do you think I would breathe a syllable 
 concerning this ?" ejaculated Cicely, as she held 
 the letter before the lawyer's eyes. " Understand 
 me well ! — or if you understand your own cha- 
 racter, you can all tho more easily comprehend 
 mine. I am intensely selfish— I am a hypo- 
 crite and a dissembler, as well as an astute strat.- 
 gist. My heart was once a good one — but it is 
 changed. I have now no heart for any one but 
 myself. All my sympathies are concentrated in 
 my own egotism. To achieve mj own aggrandise- 
 ment I would trample upon every other considera. 
 tion : I would scruple at no crime, so long as X 
 had the certainty of shielding myself from its con- 
 sequences. My affection for you is just as much 
 as your'a is for me. The jame in respect to my 
 aunt ! I owe neither of you anything; for you 
 were both selfish inofi'eriug me an asylum at your 
 house ; aud I was selfish in accepting it. You 
 knew that I was what the norld calls a fine young 
 woman, and that I should embellish your drawing-
 
 AaSES; OB, BBADTT ASD FLEA3CSB. 
 
 rocm when you received quests— that I should be 
 an attraction, in short. You liliewise fancied that 
 I should form some alliance which would reflect 
 honour, credit, and respectability on yourself and 
 your wife. Now you see, uncle, that I compre- 
 hend you both thoroughly ;— and you comprehend 
 
 Mr. Timpcrloy listened in astonishment, not al- 
 together unmingled with admiration and satisfac. 
 tion, at this voluntary self-unveiling of his niece. 
 The bold hardihood with which she proclaimed her 
 real character excited his admiration— and all the ] 
 more so, because it was a character which in its I 
 unprincipled and unscrupulous qualities was per- 
 fectly akin to bis own. Uis satisfaction too was \ 
 excited, because he saw at a glance that with such j 
 a character the secret connected with that letter j 
 was altogether safe, provided he yielded to her I 
 pecuniary demand. She had thrown aside the 
 mask from her countenance ; and he was now 
 enabled to look her in the face— to encounter her 
 gaze, as one bad person may without being abashed 
 meet the regards of another. 
 
 " Yes, there is now a mutual understanding," 
 he said ; " and you shall have the dower which 
 you require. I will give you an undertaking " 
 
 " "Write it at once," interjected Cicely ; " and 
 order your clerks in the course of the day to draw 
 up a deed which shall settle the whole amount 
 upon myself." 
 
 " Ah, you are wise, Cicely — you are wise !" said 
 the lawyer, as he sat down at a table where there 
 were writing materials in readiness. 
 
 Mr. Timperley then proceeded to pen the un- 
 dertaking which he had agreed to give; and when 
 it was concluded. Cicely read it with attention. 
 
 " That will do," she said, taking the paper from 
 tho table — for she had bent over her uncle's shoul- 
 der to read it : and she now handed him the letter 
 which had possessed the taliamanic power of elicit- 
 ing the largo amount constituting her dowry. 
 
 Mr. Timperley took that letter, his countenance 
 becoming animated with a strange sinister satis- 
 faction ; and hastening to the Greplace, he tossed 
 it into the grate. He waited until he perceived 
 that it was reduced to tinder ; and he then 
 stirred the tire so that there should be no possi* 
 bility of a fragment of that letter remaining to 
 afford the slightest clue to the secret which its con- 
 tents might have revealed. 
 
 "Now, Cicely," he said, again turning toward? 
 his niece, " you will tell me, my dear girl, how 
 that document fell into your hands ?" 
 
 " Not now, at all events," replied Cicely : " on 
 some future occasion perhaps. But speed you 
 back to the court, or whithersoever else your busi- 
 ness may take you; for I know that your time is 
 precious." 
 
 "And I may rely upon you. Cicely?" said the 
 lawyer, fixing his earnest gaze upon her. 
 
 " You know that you can," she responded signi- 
 ficantly, " for more reasons than one." 
 
 " True !— for more reasons than one !" repeated 
 Mr. Timperley : and taking up his bat, he issued 
 from the apartment, 
 
 We must now return to the tribunal of justice 
 in the Old Bailey, and see what has been taking 
 place during Mr. Timperley's absence. 
 
 It will be remembered that Winifred was sud- 
 denly etattled from a dream-like illusion of tho 
 
 senses, by being called upon to plead guilty or not 
 guilty, and that she had given her reply firmly in 
 the latter sense. Now all objects in the court 
 were plainly visible to her, and were no longer 
 seen through the phantasmagorian medium of a 
 painfully self-deluding imagination. The indict- 
 ment was read— the counsel for the prosecution 
 was opening the case. For some minutes "Wini- 
 fred kept her eyes bent downward, as if she could 
 thereby shut herself out from becoming the tocui 
 for all the regards of that crowded court. At 
 length the recollection began slowly to dawn in 
 unto her mind that her life huog to a thread, 
 which twelve men, seated iu an adjacent box, 
 could with their verdict either snap in a moment 
 or strengthen to the consistency of the stoutest 
 cord. She was impelled by a species of fearful 
 curiosity to study tho countenances of those men 
 who were thus the arbiters of her destiny. She 
 looked towards them, furtively and timidly at 
 first— then mora attentively. Her eyes settled 
 upon the foreman. He was an elderly man, with 
 a great hook nose, on the middle of the bridge of 
 which rested a pair of huge silver spectacles. 
 There was something very grave if not stern in 
 the expression of his countenance ; and Winifred 
 experienced a sensation of heart-sinking as she 
 thought to herself that there was little chance 
 of such a man being swayed otherwise than by 
 the details of the evidence ; and alas ! she 
 knew that this evidence weighed moat strongly 
 against her. As her eyes slowly wandered over 
 the other jurors, she suddenly gave a slight start ; 
 for there was a countenance amongst them which 
 instantaneously struck her as being familiar. She 
 looked again, with wonder and perplexity in (ler 
 mind. Yes- assuredly it must be he ! She passed 
 her hand athwart her eyes, for fear lest she were 
 the victim of some strange unaccountable optical 
 delusion ; and then she looked again. It was no 
 delusion ; for how could she possibly fail to recog- 
 nise that pale countenance, shaded by dark hair, 
 and with its black whiskers— that aquiline profile 
 — that well-shaped mouth — those dark piercing 
 eyes? Yes, it was he!— that gentleman of about 
 forty years of age, of moderate stature, and of 
 thin figure — the very same indeed whom Winifred 
 had met at the gate of Sidney Villa and had fol- 
 lowed into the bye-lane on that memorable after- 
 noon when the murder was committed for which 
 she now stood arraigned before a tribunal ! 
 
 Ou that day to which we are referring, the 
 gentleman was very handsomely dressed; but now 
 he was apparelled with exceeding plainness, in tho 
 style of a respectable tradesman. He wore a 
 simple suit of black — with no jewellery dia- 
 played, except a watch-chain of moderate price. 
 The jurors sat in two rows in tho box: he was ia 
 tho back row, and quite in a corner. He ap- 
 peared not to be taking the sliirhtest notice of 
 Winifred : his eyes were fixed upon the barrister 
 who was detailing the case for the prosecution. 
 There was now no longer a doubt in Winifred's 
 mind that in this particular juror she beheld the 
 gentleman who was so well known to her, and 
 through whose assistance she had obtained tho 
 services of Mr. Wardour. That pale-faced gen- 
 tleman had never visited her during her month's 
 imprisonment : but he had not forgotten her ! 
 No— he was there, iu the jury-box !
 
 AONES; Olt, BEAUTY AKD PLEABUEE. 
 
 157 
 
 But why bad be obtained admission thither P 
 why did he constitute himself one of the ominous 
 twelve on whom her fate depended ? Winifred 
 knew that it could not possibly be to ensure her 
 condemnation : she was equally well convinced 
 that his purpose was to befriend her. She ex- 
 perienced a sensation as if her heart were rising 
 up into her throat with the hopeful emotions that 
 were now excited within her ; — and as she glanced 
 
 I towards the barristers' table, she encountered the 
 looks of Mr. Wardour. He saw that she had only 
 just perceived the friend who had by some means 
 
 i obtained admission to the jury-box : he eompre- 
 bended what was passing in her mind ; and having 
 flung upon her that significant look, ho again 
 
 I turned his eyes towards the counsel for the prose. 
 cution. But Winifred felt no longer as if she 
 were utterly friendless in the midst of the tribu- 
 nal; and her soul was fortified. 
 
 The counsel for the prosecution finished his ad- 
 dress; and the witnesses were now summoned in 
 due order. The first witnesses were the two 
 police-constables who had given their evidence 
 before the magistrate as already detailed in a pre- 
 vious chapter. One of them, in deposing to the 
 circumstances of the arrest at Mrs. Slater's house, 
 identified the ring which he found upon the table 
 in Winifred's room ; and he repeated the words 
 which in her excitement she had uttered on the 
 occasion—" Ton know not what it has cost me to 
 
 Charles De Vere was now called into the 
 witness-box. He stated that he was a clerk in 
 the Home Office at the time when the murder 
 occurred, but that he had since obtained the ap- 
 pointment of junior paid attache to the British 
 Embassy at the Court of Naples. With the same 
 clearness and precision that he had displayed 
 before the magistrate a month back — and with the 
 same unmistakable air of one who only came 
 forward in the discharge of a melancholy duty — 
 our young hero gave his evidence. When speak- 
 ing of all he had seen pass betwixt the prisoner 
 and Mrs. Chicklade in the bye-lane, Charles re- 
 peated those words which had burst from Wini- 
 fred's lips on the occasion :— " There is the feeling 
 of a tigress within me !"—ani although this fact 
 was »ell known before, it nevertheless produced a 
 powerful sensation amidst the audience. 
 
 The next witness was Mr. Meadowbank, the 
 surgeon, who gave evidence precisely similar to 
 that which ho bad adduced when before the ma- 
 gistrate. Then came Mrs. Slater ; and this worthy 
 woman interspersed her answers to the questions 
 put to her, with vehemently uMered eulogies upon 
 Winifred's character. The omnibus conductor 
 and Miss Evelyn's housek-oeper, Eachel, were 
 summoned to repeat the depositions they had 
 made before the magistrate ; and the case for the 
 prosecution was closed. 
 
 In the meanwhile Mr. Timperley had returned 
 into the court ; and having worked his way 
 through the crowd, he had resumed his stand in 
 the immediate vicinity of Mr. Wardour's place. 
 Be it understood that Mr. Timperley was not the 
 solicitor for the defence : other lawyers had been 
 engaged to conduct it and to draw up the briefs 
 for Mr. Wardour :— but it was considered by those 
 present to whom Mr. Timperley was known, that 
 it was only natural he sh', uld experience a lively 
 
 interest and curiosity on behalf of the grand- 
 daughter of his client Mr. Barrington. 
 
 The case for the prosecution being closed, Mr. 
 Wardour had now to rise to enter upon his defence 
 on behalf of the prisoner. Just at the very mo- 
 ment that he was thus rising, the learned gentle- 
 man flung a rapid glance upon Winifred. It was 
 one of those looks which are without significancy 
 to the common observer, but which are full of 
 meaning with those between whom a secret rests. 
 Though so short and transient, there was indeed 
 for Winifred a world of meaning in that look. It 
 was full of the most earnest appeal and almost 
 plaintive entreaty on the part of that most excel- 
 lent man, that he might be allowed to take his 
 own course and embody in his defence whatso- 
 ever had been communicated to him privately by 
 Winifred. But the young girl simply shook her 
 head, while her features assumed an expression of 
 mournfullest resignation, blended with the firm- 
 ness of a heroine. Mr. Wardour heaved a pro- 
 found sigh, which he however concealed under that 
 slight cough with which a public orator is wont to 
 collect the powers of "nis voice ere entering upon 
 his speech. The profoundest silence now reigned 
 throughout the court; and Mr. Wardour began his 
 address to the jury. 
 
 In a prologue, couched in the most pathetic 
 language, Mr. Wardour gave a sketch of the Bar- 
 rington family, showing how the poor old grand- 
 father had been a prisoner for five-and-twenty 
 years in Whitecross Street, and how he was the 
 plaintiff in one of those interminable Chancery 
 suits which have proved the scandal and disgrace 
 of British law and justice. Ho described how 
 Winifred had lost her father when only eight years 
 of age— how at fifteen she had lost her mother — 
 and how for about a twelvemonth afterwards she 
 had lived with a widowed aunt, until that relation 
 was likewise summoned away from this world by 
 the cold hand of death. 
 
 "And now," continued Mr. Wardour, "com- 
 menced the most serious trials which the uiifortu- 
 nato prisoner at the bar had known down to the 
 date of which I am speaking. Alone as it were in 
 the world— having just attended the remains of 
 a fond relative to the grave— having parted from 
 a cousin of about her own age, whom the misfor- 
 tunes which struck this doomed family blow upon 
 blow, had sent to sea— Winifred Barrington, at the 
 age of sixteen, as I tell you, was left alone in the 
 world. But there is oven something worse than 
 mere loneliness : it is when the position of tbo 
 struggling individual is hampered by the wants 
 and necessities of another who has to be fostered 
 and cared for. Such was Winifred's position: for 
 sho had not merely to think of herself — she had 
 to think of her granclsire likewise. A protectcr 
 he could not bo to her; for all his energies and 
 powers were circumscribed to his prison-house — 
 and beyond the walls thereof his supervision in re. 
 spect to this young girl could not range. And how 
 do we find Winifred Barrington behaving ? Did she 
 abandon herself to despair ? did sho succumb to 
 temptation? No!— she encountered her destiny 
 with the courage of a heroine ; and she began to 
 toil arduously for her bread. Yes — she toiled not 
 to shpport herself alone, but to minister to the 
 comforts of her aged, helpless, captive grandsire. 
 You have heard from the lips of that highly re-
 
 168 
 
 AOSE3; OE, BBAUIT AHD PLEASUBB. 
 
 spectable vfoman, Mrs. SUter, how for two years 
 "Winifred Barriugtoa resided in her house with an 
 unimpeachablo character. You have heard from 
 those same lips how this poor toiling girl herself 
 lived sparingly, that she might convey little 
 luxuries with a foud devotion to the old man in 
 his captivity. You have unimpeachable testimony 
 to the amiability of disposition, the kindness of 
 heart, and the unwearying benevoleDce of the 
 prisoner in the dock ; and yet you are asked by 
 the counsel for the prosecution to find her guilty 
 of a most barbarous and savage deed of assassi* 
 nation ! No, gentlemen of the jury ! such a ver. 
 diet will never be returned by you; because it 
 would be utterly incompatible with the incontro- 
 vertible idea that she is by nature amiable, meek, 
 generous, and benevolent!" 
 
 For some little while longer did the learned 
 gentleman cuutiuue in this strain, so that there 
 was many a humid eye in court ; and Winifred 
 herself was weeping softly but plenteously. 
 
 " It would be impossible to disguise the fact," 
 continued Mr. "Wardour, " that there was some 
 sort of acquaintanceship between the prisoner in 
 the dock and the deceased Mrs. Chickladc. Jfor 
 will I attempt to blink the circumstance that Mrs. 
 Chicklade was a woman of an abandoned cha- 
 racter. They are seen in altercation together in a 
 secluded spot : but who can tall what was the 
 subject of that altercation ? Mr. De Vere, the 
 only witness whose evidence touches upon the 
 point at all, can throw no light upon that portion 
 of the subject. But the young girl was heard to 
 ordaim passionately ' that there was the sjtirit of 
 the tigress within her.' The woman was therefore 
 evidently provoking her; and if you suppose that 
 in a moment when goaded to madness, the young 
 girl acted in accordance with the impulse of such 
 feelings, you will rather bo inclined to adopt the 
 merciful alternative and to pronounco a verdict of 
 manslaughter instead of a verdict of murder. 
 Then there is the affair of the ring. I will at once 
 admit that the ring was at first on the finger of 
 Mrs. Chicklade, and that it was subsequently dis- 
 covered in the prisoner's possessiou. But what if 
 this very ring was the object of the altercation ?— 
 what if the young girl, beholding it on Mrs. 
 Chicklade's finger, recognised in it an object of in- 
 terest which once had belonged to herself, but 
 which had been lost?— and what if she gave to 
 Mrs, Chicklade for the restoration of that ring, 
 the hard-earned gains of an entire week — the pro- 
 duce of sis days' toil ? If this were the fact, 
 would it not account for the excited words which 
 she had addressed to the police-constable — * Tok 
 hnoio not what it has cost me to obtain it T Can 
 you for a moment suppose that this young girl, 
 so steady in her habits, so honourable in her deal- 
 ings — with all parsimony, and with no extrava- 
 gance — committed a murder to obtain possession 
 of that ring ? Mrs. Chicklade had other jewellery 
 at the time about her person ; and this was not 
 touched. Her purse was in her pocket — it had 
 money in it : that likewise was untouched ! If a 
 murder had been committed for the sake of 
 plunder, why was the greater portion of the 
 temptiug booty left behind ? Again, too, the 
 young girl sought not to conceal the ring, uor 
 made away with it the instant it came into her 
 possessiou. Xh» officers of justice whs proccedei 
 
 to take her into custody, found it lying on the 
 table in her apartment. She did not snatch it up, 
 with a guilty consciousness of the signilicaacy of 
 its presence, the moment the officers made their 
 appearance. On the contrary, gentlemen of the 
 
 jury- 
 
 . think it is fair to infer from the evidence 
 
 of the constables that she was ignorant of the 
 object of tbeir visit to her lodgings until they 
 themselves explained it. Indeed, I utterly deny 
 that my uulortuuate client had any hand iu tho 
 death of the deceased Mrs. Chicklade. It was a 
 bye lane where she met her death— a very lonely 
 lane, where perhaps not mure than fifty persons 
 might pass individually and at different times in 
 the course of a day. It was a spot as favourable 
 as can ba well conceived for a deed of assassina- 
 tion to he perpetrated by some one entering that 
 lane a very short time after Winifred Barringtoa 
 had issued from it. Now let us look at the evi- 
 dence of the surgeon. He tells you that same 
 thing which he first said before the magistrate, — 
 that he should be very sorry to alllrui that tho 
 small delicate fingers of the prisoner were tho 
 same which clutched the neck of the deceased 
 woman." 
 
 " At the same time, Mr. Wardour," interposed 
 the Judge, consulting his note-book, " Mr. Mea- 
 dowbank the surgeon has added that as an honest 
 man ho is compelled to admit that those marks 
 miglit have been made by the prisoner's fingers." 
 
 " True, my lord," continued the learned coun- 
 sel : " but still there is a perceptible doubt floating 
 in Mr. Meadowbank'a evidence on this point ; and 
 I claim for my client the benefit of that doubt. I 
 say therefore, gentlemen of the jury, that tho 
 marks which were visible upon the person of tho 
 deceased woman were made by hands far more 
 powerful as well as larger than those of the pri- 
 soner. I insist upon this point; for the hands 
 of my client are singularly small and delicate ; 
 whereas those marks — for I saw them myself— 
 were produced by fingers of larger dimensions and 
 capable of more energetic pressure." 
 
 Mr. Wardour continued his able defence for a 
 considerable time longer. He was listened to with 
 an almost breathless attention by every one pre- 
 sent ; and several times during his oration, Wini- 
 fred, amidst her weeping, thought within herself, 
 " O heaven, what power host thou bestowed upon 
 the language of this man 1" 
 
 At length he sat down, much exhausted : but 
 he rose again almost immediately, to examine seve- 
 ral witnesses to speak to the character of Winifred. 
 These consisted of the governor and several turn- 
 keys of Whitecross-Straet Prison. They all testi- 
 fied to the invariable propriety of Winifred's con- 
 duct when visiting the gaol ; and they spoke 
 feelingly of her behaviour towards her aged grand- 
 sire. 
 
 The case for the defence being closed, the coun- 
 sel for the prosecution made a brief reply. He 
 insisted that Mr. Wardour's explanation in re- 
 ference to the ring was unsatisfactory. It was no 
 reason, ho argued, that because Winifred had 
 merely the ring in her possession, she had not com- 
 mitted tho crime imputed to her ; because she 
 might have been startled and impelled to sudden 
 tlight by some real sound or vague terror beioro 
 she had time to complete the work of plunder. 
 
 " But I admit," <aid Ibe counsel for the prose*
 
 agues; OE, BEAriT AHD PIEASUEE. 
 
 159 
 
 culion, " that I do not think the foul deed was i come to a verdict without leaving the box. But it 
 perpetrated expressly for the sake of plunder. All ) was not so ; for they speedily retired for the pur- 
 the evidence seems to indicate that the crime was \ pose of private discussion. Time wore on; and 
 the result of a quarrel ; and therefore the plunder Winifred now sat in the dock, a prey to the 
 was probably an afterthought. As for the marks | acutest suspense. An hour passed : — it was 6v8 
 of the fingers on the person of the deceased, it is ; o'clock. The Judge now directed the jury to be 
 well known that these will by the process of swell- | sent for ; and he inquired whether they had any 
 ing and discolouration, undergo a change, so that i chance of coming to a speedy verdict ? 
 what was at first a mark comparatively delicate, , " I scarcely know, my lord," replied the fore- 
 may grow and expand into a larger one." | man. " Eleven of us are agreed to the verdict 
 The learned Judge now began to sum up ; and ' which we feel it our duty to return: but the 
 bis review of the whole case was most lucid and twelfth is of an opposite opinion." 
 impartial. He said that there was a feeling in his "I will wait half an-hour," said the Judge; 
 mind that something had been kept back on tho : "and as there is only one dissentient, I daresay 
 part of the defence— that either the prisoner had \ you will have agreed by that i 
 
 refrained from being explicit, and therefore her 
 
 counsel's instructions were imperfect ; or that t 
 
 counsel had Jiis own reasons as a lawyer for i 
 
 volving in ambiguity and mystery the whole pi 
 
 ticulars of tho in( ' ' 
 
 Mrs, Chicklado in 
 
 to Mr. Wardour's observations upon the allerna- deringly forced U[ 
 
 lives of a verdict for manslaughter or murder, jurors were prepared 
 
 The jurors bowed, and again withdrew. An- 
 other half-hour of most torturing suspense for 
 Winifred, as she eat in the dock, her face buried 
 in her hands ! Siie could full well conjecture who 
 w between the prisoner and the ona was that held out in opposition to his 
 the byelane. Then in reference colleagues; and the conviction was therefore ehud- 
 
 ' mind that eleven of tho 
 doom her to the scaffold. 
 
 the Judge plainly told the jury that they must Oh ! could that one continue to hold out in the 
 not be guided by those suggestions. Their verdict ' face of all the testimony which had convinced tho 
 must either bo an acriuittal or wilful mKcrfer. i eleven others? 
 
 Suppose that the prisoner, argued the Judge, had ■ The half-hour passed — the court was still 
 rushed out of the lane and had cried to the first crowded — no one had quitted bis place, with the 
 person she met that she bad accidentally slain a exception of the jury, who were now re-entering 
 woman in a quarrel, the affair would have worn a their box. 
 
 different complexion. But if she really were the ] " Gentlemen, are you agreed ?" inquired the 
 cause of the woman's death, she had sought to ' clerk of the court. 
 
 conceal the crime : she had fled stealthily away. I " We are not, sir," answered the foreman ; 
 The jury had likewise to bear in mind the fact that "and there seems to be no chance of any such 
 after the prisoner had passionately declared that agreement. There is only one who holds out— the 
 the spirit of the tigress was aroused within her, | same as at first." 
 
 she had time to grow cool and compose herself " Perhaps it is some point of law," said the 
 during the few minutes that Mr. De Vere was \ Judge, " which the gentleman may wish to LaTo 
 on the spot, generously offering hie protec. j explained to him ?" 
 
 tion to the young girl. Thus, having refused j " No, my lord," replied the foreman of tho jury; 
 that protection, and preferring to remain upon "it is nothing of that sort: his dissent is upon 
 the spot, it could only have been for the I the whole case." 
 
 purpose of renewing the altercation; and if the I "Then, gentlemen, I am sorry for you," re- 
 death of her opponent were the consequence, it ! joined the Judge ; " but you must be locked up ; 
 must be held under such circumstances to be j and I will come down to the court again at eight 
 wilful murder. At the same time the Judge ' o'clock to receive your verdict." 
 begged the jury to weigh all the other arguments ' The jurors accordingly withdrew once more: 
 BO powerfully adduced by Mr. Wardour ; and if the Judge quilted the bench, and departed in his 
 the slightest doubt remained upon their minds, , carriage to his own home to dinner. Most of the 
 they were to give tho prisoner the benefit of that , barristers likewise departed ; and Winifred was 
 doubt by a verdict of acquittal. ' conducted back into the prison. The audience 
 
 It was now four o'clock in the afternoon ; and 1 remained almost to a man at their posts. 
 the case was left in the bands of the jury. Mr. | Two hours and a half elapsed: the clocks of 
 Wardour's speech had produced a considerable | tho City churches were striking eight, when the 
 effect for the time-being on a large portion of the ' Judge, who had come back to the court, resumed 
 
 audience, whose opinion accordingly turned 
 favour of Winifred. But that effect was soon im- 
 paired by the reply of the counsel for the prose- 
 cution ; and it was further diminished by the 
 eumming-up of the Judge. Indeed, tho general 
 impression now was that in the face of the evi- 
 dence the jury could come to no other conclusion 
 than that Winifred was guilty. Such was visibly 
 the sentiment of tho Judge and of the greater 
 portion of the Bar ; for instead of retiring as if it 
 were a doubtful case in which the jury might bo 
 supposed to require leisure for deliberation, they 
 remained in their respective seats. 
 
 Meanwhile the jurors had grouped th 
 
 the bench. The jurors were 
 now again summoned back to their box ; and 
 Winifred was once more placed in the dock. A 
 dead silence prevailed : breathless was the sus- 
 pense. And Mr. Timperley, now seated at the 
 barristers' table, was still in the court,— as was 
 likewise Mr. Wardour. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the jury," inquired tho clerk, 
 "are you agreed?" 
 
 " Unfortunately," answered the foreman, look- 
 ing very gloomy and very hungry, " we appear to 
 bo farther off from an agreement than ever. ^Va 
 r.ro now seven one way and fivo the other The 
 ceeded in bringing foui' 
 
 together ; and it seemed as if they would actually j others round to bis opinion."
 
 Judge, "jou live development to lier richly-modelled eontours. 
 must be locked up o^ain. I have no objection to , The symmetry was of such statue-like perfection 
 wait en hour: but if at nine o'clock you are not , that it would only have been impaired by such un- 
 agreed, you will be locked up for the ni»ht." natural artifice; and as she walked in freedom, 
 
 The jurors again retired ; and the Judge sat every movement was characterized by an elegant 
 upon the bench, alternately reading the evening , elasticity. Although at so early an hour in the 
 paper and conversing with the lord Mayor, morning, the heat was already oppressive ; and thus 
 Winifred was kept in the dock : the number of the lightness of Emily's vesture was a comfort at 
 the audience remained undiminished. j well as a becoming mode of setting off her dusky 
 
 " He has brought /oiii- round to bis own view !" j loveliness. Nothing could be finer than the polish 
 ■Winifred kept repeating to herself. " Oh, how he j of her skin, looking like tinted alabaster, so smooth 
 must have striven for me!" j and even, and conveying an idea of the firmness 
 
 The hour passed— and the jury were a;ain sum- ; of the flesh itself, yet also associated with the im. 
 moned. In reply to the usual question put by the ' pression of velvet softness. It was as if the most 
 clerk of the court, the foreman said, " There are ' perfect statue which ever emanated from tho 
 now seven on the side where at first there was chisel of an ancient sculptor, bad become aniinaled 
 only one: there are consequently five in favour of , with the Promethean fire of life— and as if having 
 But there ia not hurriedly cast light draperies around itself, 
 
 ndering with all the unstudied graces of natural 
 don't know," said the Judge. " If only the I movement and gesture. 
 
 A large straw hat protected the quadroon girl's 
 countenance from the burning rays of the sun ; 
 and a basket was slung to her arm. Sut her 
 mood was pensive: her eyes were bent down aj 
 she walked slowly through the garden attached la 
 the villa of Mount Pleasant. AVith that though! - 
 
 one had continued to bold out, I should deem it 
 my duty to discharge you: but inasmuch as h( 
 has brought sis others to his own opinion, I am 
 bound to leave the matter to the continued infiu- 
 ences of discussion." 
 
 ' Would it be too much to ask your lordship to 
 
 wait another hour?" inquired the foreman, Lcsi- j ful air the long ebon fringes of the eyelids half- 
 tatingly. curtained the luminous orbs themselves : the rich 
 
 " I will wait another hour," responded the i red lips were slightly apart, affording a glimpse of 
 Judge. j the snowy teeth, like closely set kernels in a cleft 
 
 That hour elapsed : then another ten minutes of moist red fruitage. She was reflecting pro- 
 was begged: and finally, at a quarter past ten i foundly— painfully and sorrowfully ; and ever and 
 o'clock— when Judge, barristers, audience, and i anon as she proceeded, a deep sigh made the half- 
 prisoner were well-nigh exhausted— the jury re- r revealed bosom heave, swell, and then sink again, 
 turned for the last time into their box. Through the garden she bent her steps, until she 
 
 " Gentlemen, are you agreed f " inquired the | reached the bank of a little crystal streamlet ; and 
 clerk of the court. I here she paused. On this spot bloomed the love- 
 
 " We are, sir," was the foreman's response. ! liest flowers and flourished the choicest fruits of 
 
 "How say you, gentlemen?" demanded the 1 the garden. It was Emily's custom to cull the 
 clerk. " Guilty or Not Guilty ?" j sweetest of these flowers and pluck the most 
 
 "Not Guilty," rejoined the foreman. ; luscious of those fruits for the decoration of the 
 
 A faint cry escaped from Winifred's lips ; and I breakfast-table ; and she had been wont to take a 
 
 she was borne senseless from the dock. j pleasure in tho proceeding— especially since Gus- 
 
 ' tavus was an inmate of the villa. But for the last 
 
 ! day or two, and particularly on this morning of 
 
 i which we are writing, the beauteous quadroon 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIX j ceased to eiperienco that pleasure : for she now 
 
 scarcely took pleasure in anything, for reasons 
 
 IIIE BAKE OP IHB STEEAMLET. i that will presently be explained. Nevertheless, 
 
 I she still adhered to her custom : but it was in a 
 
 The scene of our story again shifts to that West ] mechanical sort of manner, without pausing (or 
 
 Indian isle where the destinies of Gustavus Bar- the purpose of selection, that she culled flowers 
 
 rington had cast him- It was three or four days I and gathered fruits on the bank of the streamlet. 
 
 after the loss of the box containing the ore and ' Her basket was soon full ; and then she sat down 
 
 gold dust, — that loss which had suddenly reduced i close by the purling brook, abstractedly gazing on 
 
 him from wealth and independence to compara. its gently flowing tide and giving way to her re- 
 
 tive poverty or dependence once more,— when the ' flections once more. 
 
 following scjne took place. ' Presently, ia the same mechanical way in which 
 
 At a very early hour in the morning — much she had plucked the fruits and flowers, Emily drew 
 earlier than she was accustomed to issue from the oS' her slippers and her hose; and she bathed her 
 villa— Emily Pinnock walked forth. She was at- | feet in the streamlet. The clear waters gurgle.l 
 tired in the simplest negligee— & mere wrapper around her exquisitely shaped limbs which were 
 thrown around her form,— tho pliant and almost I thus consigned to their refreshing coolness ; and 
 gauzy folds of the muslin displaying the exquisite those waters almost seemed to play with them 
 symmetry of her shape, and following as it were the ' with the consciousness of a sentiment. For seve- 
 very movements of her beauty with a grace which ral minntes did the beauteous quadroon continue 
 only the sentiment of an anchorite could disosso- seated thus; until she was suddenly startled by 
 ciate from voluptuousness. She wore no corset — hearing some one advancing amongst the trees; 
 there was no artificial means of compressure to give and looking round, she beheld Gustavos- 
 nddiiional slcndcrness to the waist or a more efTco- 1 lie too had come forth to walk at that early
 
 AGNES: OB, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 
 -%-^^^^— 
 
 ^W|«Sc^ ^- 
 
 momiDg bour ; and on account ok' the oppressive 
 heat, ho too was lightlj clad. He knew uot he 
 should meet Emily Pinnock there : ho was igno- 
 rant indeed that she had quitted the house. He 
 could not keep the eouch on which ho had lain 
 tossing feverishly under the influence of his pain- 
 ful thoughts ; and he bad therefore roamed forth 
 in one of those moods in which a man's afflicted 
 mind fancies that there n\ay be a more congenial 
 solitude amongst trees and shrubs in the open air 
 than within the four walls of his own chamber. 
 
 Emily Pinnock, on catching a glimpse of the 
 advancing form of Gustavus, hastily drew forth 
 her limbs from the water, and sprang up to her 
 feet. She likewise snatched up her basket : but 
 ehe forgot her hose and her slippers — she recol- 
 lected not that her feet were naked— she was full 
 of confusion and agitation. 
 
 "Good morning, Emily," said the young man, 
 No. 21.— A0KE3. 
 
 whose air was preoccupied and whose looks were 
 careworn. " Tou are out betimes ?" 
 
 " And you too, Gustavus," she replied, in a 
 voice of the most plaintive mournfulness. 
 
 " Oh, it is different with me !" he ejaculatei 
 " I cannot rest ! Sleep does not visit my eyes— 
 1 toss about upon a feverish couch — and it is a 
 relief when the earliesf hour comes at which I can 
 
 " Yes — you are indeed altered, my dear Gu--- 
 tavus," said Emily, fixing her large dark eyes with 
 indescribable tenderness upon him— a tendernesa 
 in which there was also a certain blendiog of 
 compassion. "So altered indeed are you," sho 
 added, in a lower cadence of her sweet liquid 
 voice, " that I almost fear you have ceased to lovd 
 
 " How often have you told me this within the 
 last two or three days ?" ejaculated young Bar-
 
 162 
 
 AOKES; OB, BEAVTT A2!D FLBA.aU£B. 
 
 rington with a slight gesture of inipstience. "Do 
 you think 1 can bo happy and conteoted with mj 
 present lot ?" 
 
 " If that fortune had never been plaeed in your 
 hands, Gustavus," answered Emily, in a mild de- 
 preeating manner, " would you not have been 
 happy and contented with yoar lot ? Tou were 
 
 happy when you were first here " 
 
 "Ah! because I had never even formed so wild 
 a hope as that I should become the possessor of a 
 fortune !" exclaimed Gustavus : " I could not 
 possibly foresee that heaven would place in my 
 hands the means of bearing happiness acros 
 wide Atlantic to those who are dear to me in my 
 own native clime ! Bat all of a sudden I was 
 enriched— and then as suddenly my riches 
 snatched away from me. It is this that maddens 
 me !" 
 
 " Perhaps, Gustavus, your treasure will yet bs 
 recovered," said the quadroon falteringly, as her 
 eyes were bent down upon the contents of her 
 basket, while her beautifully formed fingers played 
 nervously with the fruits and flowers. 
 
 " What chance is there of it ?" ejaculated Gus- 
 tavus, again speaking with impatience. "That 
 hideous negro on whom our suspicions settled, 
 resolutely denied the robbery ; and candidly must 
 I confess that there was an air of honest sincerity 
 about him when he was taxed with the burglarious 
 theft." 
 
 "Tou do not know these blacks so well as I, 
 Gustavus," observed Emily : " they are full of de- 
 ception and hypocrisy, as my uncle himself has 
 likewise told you. Bemember that Kelson could 
 not prove that he was in his hut upon Mr. Thur* 
 low's estate throughout that entire night " 
 
 " How could he prove it, since he lives alone ?" 
 demanded Gustavus. " On the other hand, be it 
 borne in mind that for the same reason no one 
 could prove he was absent. In short, Emily, it is 
 useless to discuss the matter— my treasure is gone, 
 irrecoverably and mysteriously — and you are 
 wrong to attempt to buoy ms up with the hope 
 that I shall ever get it back." 
 
 " Oh, Gustavus ! how harshly you are speaking 
 to me !" murmured the quadroon, the tears trick, 
 ling from her eyes and falling like diamond-drops 
 of rain upon the fruits and (lowers in her basket. 
 "Tou seem in your accents to reproach me for the 
 calamity which has overtaken you." 
 
 There was indeed something more than harsh- 
 ness—there was even a species of brutality in the 
 abrupt, impatient, cutting manner in which the 
 youth spoke. Tet he dearly loved Emily. But it 
 is one of the idiosyncracies of human nature— one 
 of the worst and most morbid peculiarities of the 
 human mind — to visit first of all the bitterness of 
 the heart's affliction upon the object of that heart's 
 I love. Tet let us not be mistaken ; for we do not 
 include the gentler sex in what may seem to be a 
 wholesale accusation. For woman luver displays 
 this evil feeling; it is only man who does it. 
 And at times the best of men will thus act. Gus- 
 tavus Barrington possessed a disposition as good, 
 a heart as generous, a soul as magnanimous as 
 any being of his sei; — but still he was not exempt 
 from that weakness to which wo have alluded I 
 
 Tes — he had spoken harshly and oven brutally 
 to the quadroon girl : but tho gentlo reproach 
 which she bad uttered, eaddeniy made bim awars 
 
 of the unkindness of his conduct. His heart wa? 
 touched — his thoughts were called back from their 
 painful abstraction- and he gaied upon her with 
 attention and with deepening interest. He saw 
 that she was weeping : he beheld how beautiful 
 she looked : his eyes wandered over her ■ entire 
 form ; and now, for the first time during the pre. 
 sent interview he observed that her feet wero 
 naked. Her slippers and her hose upon the bank 
 of the streamlet showed what she had been doing : 
 his presence had evidently startled her from tho 
 midst of bathing her limbs ; and there he had kept 
 her standing with her naked feet upon the hot 
 parched ground. This circumstance, though really 
 so trivial in itself, appeared to the youth to en- 
 hance the unkindness of his treatment of tho 
 beautiful quadroon girl ; and suddenly folding her 
 in his arms, he passionately exclaimed, " Forgive 
 me, Emily ! ily conduct has been most cruel to- 
 wards you ." 
 
 Sown fell the basket of fruit and flowers, aa 
 with a cry of joy the quadroon felt herself strained 
 to her lover's breast. There she nestled, weeping 
 ani sobbing in tho very plenitude of her ecstatic 
 feelings ; for she found that she was loved once 
 more. 
 
 "Oh, my sweet Emily!" continued Gustavus, 
 as he now proceeded to restore to the basket the 
 fruits and flowers which had fallen from it, " I 
 have been half mad— I have scarcely known what 
 I was doing ! I have been uncourteous towards 
 your excellent uncle and unkind towards yourself I 
 But now it is all over. Perish the recollection of 
 the fortune which I have lost ! Insensate that I 
 have been to suffer the incident thus to prey upon 
 my mind, when the possession of your love ought 
 to have sufficed for my happiness!" 
 
 3h, now you speak like yourself again, dear- 
 est, dearest Gustavus !" cried the quadroon, with 
 gushing exultation of feeling, aa her luminous 
 black eyes bent a fond adoring glance upon her 
 : then selecting the most beauteous flower 
 from tho basket which he had restored to her, she 
 in a lower tone, and with a timid bashfulness 
 of manner, " Accept this from my hand, Gustavus, 
 proof that you harbour no sentiment but that 
 of love for me." 
 
 )b, none, none, Emily!" cried the youth en- 
 thusiastically, as he took the flower ; and having 
 kissed it, he placed it beneath his vesture next to 
 heart. 
 
 I will join you in a minute, Gustavus," said 
 the beauteous quadroon : " and we will return to 
 the villa together." 
 
 e glided towards the bank ; and Gustavus 
 walked aside for a few moments while she resumed 
 her hose and slippers. Concealed amidst the trees 
 throughout the scene which we have been describ- 
 was Mr. Hargravo the misanthrope. He 
 had heard everything— he had beheld everything; 
 but he himself was unseen by the lovers- his pre- 
 there was unsuspected by them. He now 
 slowly and cautiously retreated ; and almost im- 
 mediately afterwards Emily Pionock rejoined 
 Gustavus. 
 
 " I feel, my beloved," said the youth, passing 
 his arm round her waist as they walked slowly 
 along together, " that ray conduct has been most 
 ungenerous and most urikind towards vou. But 
 Oh I the possession of that treasure had inspired
 
 AOHE3; OB, BBACTY AND PI.EA8UEB. 
 
 me with the hope of doing so much good in Eag- 
 land and infusing such happiness into the hearts 
 of my aged grandsire and my cousin Wioifrcd ! 
 Now that hope is destroyed— and I will endea- 
 vour to banish from my mind the I act that it ever 
 existed. Jly voyage to England is abandoned— it 
 would be purposeless now— and I remain here, to 
 think only of love and my adored Emily!" 
 
 A thrill of exultation and happiness swept like 
 a galvanic shock through the entire form of the 
 beautiful quadroon ; and uf her own accord she 
 upturned her countenance towards that of Gus- 
 tavus that he might imprint a caress upon her 
 lips. Joy was dancing in her luminous eyes — her 
 bosom was throbbing with a kindred sentiment. 
 As for Gustavus himself,— intoiicated with the 
 bliss of those feelings with which the presence and 
 the contact of the beauteous quadroon inspired 
 him, he forgot his lost treasure — he forgot his 
 grandsire and Winifred — he thought only of 
 the present happiness which was within his 
 teach. 
 
 The lovers gained the house ; and they sat down 
 to breakfast. They lingered over the repast, be- 
 cause there was so much joy in being thus 
 together ; for though there had been no real 
 quarrel betwixt them, yet they felt as if they 
 were experiencing all the sweetness of a recon- 
 ciliation. Mr. Pinnock presently made his ap- 
 pearance; and Gustavus rose to greet him with 
 all that frankness and gaiety of temper which he 
 had been wont to display until the last two or 
 three days. 
 
 " Well, my dear boy," said the worthy planter, 
 "you are beginning to recover from the effect of 
 the severe blow you received? It was a great 
 calamity truly : but the youthful mind should 
 never give way to despondency as you have 
 yielded." 
 
 " Forgive me, my dear sir," said Gustavus, 
 pressing Mr. Pinnock's hands ; " for I am now 
 myself again. 1 am afraid that I have behaved 
 rudely, churlishly, and ungratefully, in wandering 
 away from the house, or in keeping my own cham- 
 ber, when I ought to have been thankfully availing 
 myself of the hospitalities of your dwelling " 
 
 " Say not another word upon the subject !" 
 ejaculated Mr. Pinnock. " Why, where is Emily 
 running to now ? She quits the room at the very 
 moment our conversation is growing interesting ! 
 Ah ! perhaps she thinks it is about to take a more 
 serious turn, and that you and I may have some- 
 thing to discuss. Well, so we have." 
 
 Thus speaking, Mr. Pinnock sat down to the 
 breakfast-table ; and while heaping viands on his 
 plate, he went on discoursing. 
 
 " I have already hinted to you, my dear boy, 
 that if you like to remain with me altogether, I 
 can render your services available in superintend- 
 ing tho plantation, so that nut for a single in- 
 stant need juu with any false pride or fastidious 
 delicacy fancy that you are eating the bread of 
 dependence. You love Emily— and sha loves you. 
 You have now no need to rush across tho Atlantic 
 and beparate from her, — though at the same ' 
 if you wish to go and see your relatives before 
 you settle down in Jamaicn, 1 have told you that 
 I will be your banker tor all expenses." 
 
 " A thousand thanks, my dear sir !" oxelaimad 
 Gustavus i " but I have now totally abuudoued 
 
 the idea of that voyage Oh, yes ! totally aban- 
 
 Vety well, then," continued Mr. Pinnock: 
 I will remain with us ; and in as short a time 
 consistent with prudence, delicacy, and pro- 
 priety, you may lead Emily to the altar. Now 
 ?n, no thanks ! I know you are a grateful 
 ung fellow — I have conceived an affection for 
 u— and that is enough !" 
 
 Having thus spoken, Mr. Pinnock rose from 
 the table, pressed the youth's hand warmly, and 
 hurried from the room; for the chaise was at the 
 door to bear him into Kingston. Gustavus soon 
 joined Emily, who was waiting for him in tho 
 garden ; and he told her everything which had 
 just taken place between himself and Mr. Pin. 
 nock. His entire appearance — his manner, the 
 animation of his countenance, the tone in which he 
 spoke— all denoted the liveliest joy ; so that the 
 beautiful quadroon now seemed completely happy 
 once more. 
 
 In the middle of the day, when tho heat of the 
 sun was most sultry, Emily remained in the house, 
 in order to attend to certain domestic duties ; and 
 Gustavus sauntered towards the sea-shore. He 
 was fond of looking upon that element on which 
 he had voyaged in the Catherine Millard; and not- 
 withstanding that his voyage had experienced so 
 calamitous a termination— notwithstanding like- 
 wise that with his present plans and prospects it 
 was little likely that a seafaring life would ever 
 again become his profession— yet did he still retain 
 much of that interest in respect to the ocean 
 which had in the first instance tempted him to 
 embark upon it. Seeking a secluded and shady 
 spot upon tho sea-shore, Gustavus threw himself 
 down upon the strand to contemplate the expanso 
 of waters; and from the image of Emily his 
 thoughts travelled across that ocean to tho rela- 
 tives whom he had left iu England. He could 
 not help again sighing on account of the loss of 
 that fortune which would have enabled him to ad. 
 minister so materially to the comforts of his grand- 
 father and of Winifred : but the more he reliccted 
 upon the sudden disappearance of his treasure, the 
 more mysterious did it seem. 
 
 While engaged in these meditations, he heard 
 footsteps approaching ; and looking round, he bo. 
 held Mr. Hargrave. He had not seen the misan- 
 thrope for some days — indeed not since the occa- 
 sion when he expressed his gratitude lor that 
 eccentric individual's intervention on his behalf 
 with the Governor of Jamaica. He now started 
 up to his feet, and pressed with grateful fervour 
 the hand which he at once seized upon, and 
 which for a few moments was abandoned to his 
 clasp. 
 
 " I have heard of your misfortune, young man," 
 said Mr. Hargrave : " but it was only this morn- 
 ing that I learnt it. I have been indisposed, and 
 have scarcely crossed the threshold of my own 
 dwelling. There I hear nothing : for the old 
 negro who attends upon me, never opens his lips 
 unless I lirst speak to him ; and as u general rtile 
 I care too little to hear the sound uf the human 
 voice to give encouragement to discourse. Ah ! 
 there is an exception however : tor 1 take delight 
 in listening to the prattle of children, because my 
 rr.ind feels satisfied with the certainty that there 
 i:j no guile in their joyous gossip."
 
 164 
 
 AGSSS: OR, BK4UTT ASD PLEiSUEB. 
 
 " Tou must have a very evil opioion of human 
 nature generally ?'* said Gustavus. 
 
 "And who that possesses the slightest know, 
 ledge of the world," exclaimed Mr. Hargrave, 
 "can entertain any other opinion ? I know that 
 you are a good young man, and that therefore 
 you are one of the isolated exceptions. If it were 
 Dot 80, I nerer should have conceived any interest 
 in your welfare— I never should have taken any 
 thought on your account. I should not have 
 helped you the other day to the possession of a 
 little fortune— much less should I now express my 
 commiseration and sympathy on account of its 
 loss." 
 
 "I am grateful to you, sir, for your good 
 opinion of me and for your kind feeling," said 
 Gustavus. " The loss is to me a sad one indeed ! 
 — for I have relations in England to whose com- 
 fort and welfare " 
 
 "Yes- 1 know it," interrupted Mr. Hargrave. 
 " You have a grandfather and a cousin " 
 
 "Ah !" ejaculated Barrington : "and how did 
 you become aware of these facts ? I do not think 
 that I mentioned them to you on the last occasion, 
 when we mot " 
 
 "Oh, yes you did," responded Mr. Hargrave 
 curtly; for he saw that he had been speaking 
 somewhat incautiously, and he was apprehensive 
 lest it should be suspected by the youth that he 
 had been an unseen listener to bis conversation 
 with Emily in the morning. "And so you are 
 very anxious to do something for your grand- 
 father and your cousin ?" continued Mr. Har- 
 grave. "I suppose, therefore, that they are 
 poor ?" 
 
 "My grandfather has been for five.and-twenty 
 years a captive in a debtors' gaol," answered 
 Gustavus, in a tone of mournful solemnity; " and 
 
 my poor cousin Winifred— an orphan heaven 
 
 knows how friendless she may be at this mo- 
 ment !" 
 
 The tears trickled down his cheeks: but he 
 hastily wiped them away, exclaiming, " After all, 
 it is useless to repine for the loss of gold, which 
 seems to have disappeared beyond a chance of re. 
 covery !" 
 
 "But how happens it," inquired Mr. Hargrave, 
 "that your grandfather can have been for so many 
 years a prisoner in a debtor's gaol ?" 
 
 " I scarcely know," replied Gustavus, " how he 
 first became involved in diiHculties : but he has 
 been engaged in a Chancery suit which seems in. 
 terminable ' ' 
 
 "Does he not employ honest and straightfor- 
 ward solicitors ?" inquired Hargrave, — " if such 
 indeed are to be found on the face of the earth," 
 he added bitterly. 
 
 " In the first instance," rejoined Gustavus, " my 
 grandfather employed a Mr. Waldron; but that 
 gentleman committed suicide. There was some 
 
 strange mystery attached to the circumstance 
 
 I am unacquainted with any details certain 
 
 however it is that he destroyed himself; for so I 
 have heard my grandfather say ; — and as ha was 
 succeeded in his business by a Mr. Timperley, 
 this Mr. Timperley became my grandfather's at- 
 torney. Indeed," added Gustavus, " the suit of 
 
 ' Barriogton cersus Dallam ' is as famous " 
 
 " llather say infamotit .'" ejaculated Hargrave 
 with vehemence. 
 
 " Then you do know something about it f " asked 
 Gustavus, surveying the misanthrope with mingled 
 surprise and curiosity. 
 
 " I know nothing more about it than what you 
 have just told me," responded Mr. Hargrave: 
 " but surely the epithet of infamout is not too 
 strong in its application to the case of a man who 
 has been held in custody for twenty, five years f 
 Why, a burglar could not be punished more >e- 
 
 "True!" said Gustavus. "Yet it is a circum- 
 stance arising out of the English law, and there- 
 fore tolerated, I suppose, by the British constitu- 
 tion ; and Englishmen seem generally to be very 
 proud alike of their laws and their constitution." 
 
 " Proud indeed I" echoed Mr. Hargrave, with 
 the bitterest sarcasm. " But if you had not lost 
 this little fortune " 
 
 " Oh ! I should have borne it all to my grand- 
 father and my cousin !" ejaculated Gustavus, with 
 enthusiastic fervour. " Even if such a sum 
 would not liberate my poor grandsire, it would at 
 least contribute materially to his comfort and hap- 
 piness But alas ! it is useless to speculate on 
 
 the subject, for the gold is gone I" 
 
 Mr. Hargrave reflected for a few moments; 
 and then he said, with a curtness that was by no 
 means unusual with him, " I suppose you intend 
 to marry Emily Finnock i-" 
 
 "Yes," responded Gustavus. "Did I not 
 assure you the other day that my love was most 
 honourable ? I have spoken to her father — he 
 has consented— ho has held out certain advan. 
 tageous prospects " 
 
 " And you do not mean to go to England ?" 
 demanded Mr. Hargrave. 
 
 "Alas! it is now useless." 
 
 " To be sure ! to be sure ! The gold is lost, 
 and you have no longer the means of administer- 
 ing to the comfort and happiness of your relatives. 
 Ah ! by the bye, I think I heard that your sus- 
 picions in the first instance fell upon s negro 
 named Nelson ?" 
 
 " Yes— but I can scarcely say that they rest any 
 longer in that quarter : indeed I have now no 
 right to suspect liim— it would be a flagrant in- 
 justice on my part " 
 
 "I see," said Mr. Hargrave, "that your prin. 
 ciples are very good. Under the impression of 
 such a serious loss it would not be astonishing if 
 in the soreness of your mind you did harbour sus- 
 picions that were unjust " 
 
 "Oh, no! I am incapable of that!" replied 
 Gustavus, with a tone and air of such frank sin- 
 cerity that the misanthrope could not help gazing 
 upon him with admiration. 
 
 "And therefore you now suspect nobody?" said 
 Mr. Hargrave. 
 
 " The whole affair is most mysterious," replied 
 Gustavus : and he described all the circumstances 
 attending the loss of the ore and gold dust, pre- 
 cisely as they are already known to the reader. 
 
 "Well, young man," said the misanthrope, "it 
 is a oreat misfortune— ^nd I pity you." 
 
 With these words Mr. Hargrave abruptly rose 
 from the fl{)ot where he had been seated in dis- 
 course with younj Mr. Barringtoo ; and he 
 hostened away. When he had taken his depar- 
 ture, Gustavus reflected on all that had passed 
 between them ; and he said to himself, " He is in-
 
 AGNES ; OB, BEAUIT AND PIEASOEB. 
 
 105 ) 
 
 deed an eccentric and eingular heing — but evU 
 dently good-hearled ■:' 
 
 At the expiration of a little while Gustavus 
 likewise quitted the seashore; and he began to 
 retrace his way towards Mount Pleasant. He was 
 soon in the neighbourhood of that crystal stream- 
 let where his interview with Emily Pinnock had 
 taken place in the morning ; and now all of a 
 sudden a piercing scream smote his ear. It was 
 the voice of his Emily— and she was shrieking for 
 help ! Instinctively Gustavus caught up a large 
 stick which happened to lie in his path— and he 
 rushed forward amidst the trees, in the direction 
 whence the cries came, A few moments, and he 
 was on the spot where his succour was so much 
 needed!— for there was Emily struggling in the 
 embrace of the colossal African Nelson, "\7hat 
 then ensued was the work but of a moment ; for 
 the stout bludgeon which Gustavus held in his 
 hand, fell with terrific violence upon the head of 
 the negro, who was literally burled by the blow to 
 a considerable distance. 
 
 With a wild cry of joy Emily flew into her lover's 
 arms. The negro picked himself up in the slow 
 and languid manner of one who was half-stunned 
 and Btupiiled by the blow which had felled him ; 
 but his eyes glared with a devilish hatred and 
 fiendish vindictiveness upon Gustavus. 
 
 " Begone, villain !" cried the youth ; " or by 
 
 heaven Ah !" he suddenly ejaculated, as an 
 
 idea struck him ; and springing towards Nelson, 
 he caught him by the throat and hurled him to 
 the ground. " All my suspicions concerning you 
 have come back to my mind !" continued Gusta- 
 vus, with fierce and vehement utterance. " A vil- 
 lain who would thus outrage a young lady, would 
 ecruple not to commit any other crime ! Tell me, 
 wretch — where is the gold of which you plundered 
 me?" 
 
 The negro — now completely subdued, and na- 
 turally a coward— spoke in a tone of entreaty, 
 begging Gustavus not to do him a mischief; hut 
 still he vehemently protested his innocence of the 
 charge of robbery. Young Borrington was un. 
 decided how to act; and still fur a few moments 
 he clutched tbo prostrate negro so forcibly by 
 the throat as almost to strangle him — until the 
 thought struck the youth that though Nelson 
 might yield to the dictates of his brutal lust and 
 endeavour to coerce Emily to his purpose, yet it 
 really did not follow that he should likewise be the 
 author of the robbery. 
 
 " Begone, villain !" suddenly ejaculated young 
 Barrington ; " and rest assured that your master 
 Mr. Tburlow shall be made acquainted with your 
 diabolical conduct towards this young lady [" 
 
 He now suffered Nelson to rise; and the negro 
 began to move off, with an air in which a dastard 
 Eubmissiveness was blended with a sinister and 
 lurking vindictiveness. Gustavus turned from him 
 with abhorrence and loathing, and offered Emily 
 his arm, to which she clung with a fervid tenacity, 
 tjuddcnly the negro gave vent to a terrific howl, or 
 rather a cry of rage and spite, as if it emanated 
 from the throat of a wild beast; and plunging 
 amidst the trees, he was the next moment lost to 
 the view of the lovers. 
 
 Gustavus — despite his natural courage, which 
 amounted to a chivalrous heroism — was startled 
 by that terrific cry of savage rage and fierce ma- 
 
 lignity which so suddenly burst upon his ear ; 
 while Emily fainted in his arms. He hastily bore 
 her to the side of the streamlet : he laid her upon 
 the bank — he dipped his kerchief in the crystal 
 water— and he bathed her countenance. She still 
 had on the same light dress which she had worn 
 in the morning ; and this had become so much 
 disordered in her struggle with the ferocious negro, 
 that her bosom was all bare. As she came back 
 to consciousness, sho threw her arms about her 
 lover's neck— she strained him in her embrace, as 
 if by its very ardour she sought to convey to him 
 the expression of that gratitude which her lips 
 could not as yet shape in words. And he himself, 
 overjoyed at her resuscitation, strained her with 
 equal fervour to his own breast. There they wore, 
 alone together on the bank of that streamlet — tho 
 umbrageous foliage of the fruit trees shielding 
 them from the beams of tho sun !— there they 
 were, in that delicious shade ! They were folded 
 in each other's arms : the superb dark eyes of 
 Emily were gazing up full of love and passion 
 into the countenance of Gustavus. Ho caught 
 from the warm and impassioned quadroon the in. 
 toxication of feeling which had taken possession 
 of herself ; — and thus were they alone together I 
 
 CHAPTEIi XXIX. 
 
 THE TEEA8DEE. 
 
 An hour afterwards Gustavus was in his own 
 chamber at Mount Pleasant. He was seated at 
 the open casement ; and he was wrapped in pro- 
 found rellection. His mind was not altogether at 
 ease : but still it was in that state which can 
 scarcely bo described — for pleasing and painful 
 thoughts were conflicting within him. 
 
 From this deep abstraction he was presently 
 aroused by the sound of Mr. Pinnock's vehicle 
 arriving from Kingston ; and starting up from his 
 seat, Gustavus began to dress fur dinner. Whim 
 he descended to the dining-room, he found Emily 
 engaged in arranging tho flowers in the \|jse3 ; 
 while Mr. Pinnock was telling her, in his wonted 
 accents of cheerfulness, all the news that ho had 
 brought from Kingston. The looks of the beau- 
 tiful quadroon and Gustavus presently met ; but 
 at the same time a deep blush mantled upon the 
 countenance of each. Mr. Pinnock noticed not 
 the circumstance : he was in a hurry to eit down 
 to dinner, for the table was already spread for the 
 repast. Neither Gustavus nor Emily mentioned 
 a syllable of the adventure with the negro Nelson ; 
 nor had the youth taken the slightest step to. 
 wards making Mr. Thurlow, Nelson's master, ac 
 quainted with the outrage that had been attempted 
 upon Miss Pinnock. 
 
 On the following day— at that sultry noontide 
 period when Emily was wont to remain in the 
 house— Gustavus again strolled from the villa, and 
 took the direction of the sea shore. He had not 
 been long there when he perceived Mr. Hargrave 
 approaching ; and on beholding the misanthrope, 
 the colour suddenly mounted to tho youth's face. 
 But the nest instant ho conquered, or at least coa. 
 coaled whatsoever feeling it was which thus made
 
 168 
 
 AOSES; OE, BEArTT ABD FLEASUSE. 
 
 him blush : and he accosted Mr. Hargrave with 
 his wonted Irankness. 
 
 " If you have an hour to spare," said the misan. 
 thrope abruptly, " I desire that jou will come with 
 mo to my littlo cottage yonder. 1 wish to speak 
 to you particularly." 
 
 " To speak to me particularly ?" said Gustavus, 
 who for a moment felt as if he were quailing be- 
 neath the penetrating eyes of Mr. Hargrave. 
 
 " Tes. For what other purpose should I ask 
 you to come to my house ? J at least have no 
 sinister design in reference to you," he added, 
 with a strange eignificancy. 
 
 "Ob, my dear sir!" exclaimed the youth, "how 
 can you think that such an assurance as this is 
 requisite ? If I hesitated for« moment — or seemed 
 to hesitate— it was only because it appeared to me 
 etrange " 
 
 "' That I should have anything of importance to 
 say to you ?" exclaimed ilr. Hargrave ; " or, in- 
 deed, that I should speak to you at all— for you 
 bare of course been told that since I came to re- 
 side in this island I have never been accustumed 
 to speak to any one P Well, no matter ! There 
 are persons for whom even a misanthrope like me 
 may be inclined to make an esoeption ; and there 
 may be circumstances which render such an eicep- 
 tion necessary. Come with me, I say." 
 
 '•"Willingly," responded Gustavus; and he fol- 
 lowed the misanthrope towards the cottage. 
 
 Not another syllable was spoken during the 
 walk thither; but each individual seemed to be 
 absorbed in his own peculiar reflections. There 
 was a certain degree of nervousness and apprehen- 
 sion in the mind of Gustavus, as if he more or less 
 dreaded what might be the topic on which Mr. 
 Hargrave meant to discourse with him ; while the 
 misanthrope himself had a stern expression of 
 countenance, and his lips were closely compressed, 
 as if it were indeed something of no mean import- 
 ance for which he was leading the youth towards 
 his home. 
 
 They reached the cottage, which they entered ; 
 and Mr. Hargrave conducted Gustavus into a 
 small parlour, very modestly furnished. The in- 
 stant the door was closed, Mr. Hargrave turned 
 sharp round upon Gustavus, almost with an air as 
 if he meditated some treacherous attack; and he 
 said, " Would you like to know who was the thief 
 of your box of gold ?" 
 
 " Good heavens! is it possible that you know?" 
 exclaimed Gustavus, amized at a question which 
 seeiued to be full of hope, and which so abruptly 
 broached a topic that was very different from the 
 one to which his nervous apprehensions had been 
 pointing. 
 
 "Yes — I know who abstracted your treasure," 
 replied Mr. Hargrave. " But in the first instance 
 behold it!" 
 
 With these words, he applied a key to a cup- 
 board—opened the door— and displayed the well- 
 known box which had contained the treasure. 
 Gustavus could scarcely believe his eyes : he felt 
 as if be were in the midst of a wild bewildering 
 
 " liOok !" continued Mr. Hargrave, unfastening 
 the staple and lifting the lid of the box : " the 
 gulden contents are here, safe and secure! You 
 •re again rich, Gustavus ! And now, in the name 
 et heaven, take your treasure, and be off to Sag- 
 
 land with it as quick as possible. Tou have no- 
 thing: more to do in Jamaica and if you are 
 
 wise ;»ou will never come back to the island 
 again. ' 
 
 In the wild enthusiasm of his joy and the be- 
 wilderment of his senses at thus regaining his lost 
 treasure Gustavus failed to catch the entire pur- 
 port of the misanthrope's words. Yes— there was 
 the box ! and there were its golden contents ! But 
 bow could they possibly have come into the hands 
 of Mr. Hargrave ?— how cduld he be their restorer ? 
 because not for an iostant was it to be supposed 
 that he bad been their purloiner. 
 
 '■■ Oh, how good and kind a friend are you to 
 me !— a friend in every sense !" exclaimed Gus- 
 tavus, when he was at length able to give utter- 
 ance to a word. " Strange unaccountable being 
 that you are ! But, ah ! you have forgotten to 
 tell me who was the thief that purloined this trea- 
 sure;— and yet you commenced by asking me whe- 
 ther I wished to know." 
 
 " And do you still wish to know?" inquired M>. 
 Hargrave, fixiog his eyes with mingled keenness 
 and commiseration upon the youth. 
 
 " Yes— I wish to know," rejoined Qastavus. 
 "Why should I not f 
 
 " Then you shall know !" answered the misan- 
 thrope; and after a pause, he added slowly, and 
 accentuating every syllable, " It was for no pur- 
 pose of mere vile plunder that the treasure was 
 taken from you : it was to serve another and very 
 different end— it was to prevent you from going to 
 England — it was to keep yuu in Jamaica : for the 
 thief was none other than Emily Pionock herself !" 
 
 " ;S^o, no!— tell me not this !" exclaimed Gus- 
 tavus, with a wild cry of mingled anguish and 
 astonishment. "What! Emily do a thing like 
 this ? No, no ! I would believe many things — I 
 would beUeve almost anything rather than that 
 Emily Pinnock could be guilty of such a crime !" 
 
 "Poor Gustavus!" said Mr. Hargrave, with 
 more feeling than he had ever yet displayed to- 
 wards the youth ; " you must end by believing it. 
 You are indeed young in the world that you 
 shrink from believing that which at the slightest 
 hint ought to be evident to your senses ! Tes— 
 inexperienced must you be that at the very outset 
 you did not suffer your suspicions to fall upon the 
 right person." 
 
 Gustavus had sunk aghast and dismayed upon 
 a seat : a torrent of tears now gushed forth from 
 his eyes, and bis breast was convulsed with heart- 
 wrung sobs. Suddenly he started up; and seizing 
 upon the box of gold, was rushing towards the 
 door, when the misanthrope held him back with 
 an iron grasp, exclaiming, " What are you about 
 to do, rash youth ?" 
 
 " To hurl this gold into the stream which winds 
 near your garden!" ejaculated Gustavus. "Ac- 
 cursed gold, which has proved the means of de- 
 stroying my faith in one whom " 
 
 "Be calm, Gustavus!" said Mr. Hargrave: 
 " this frenzy of excitement will avail you in no 
 possible way ! So you think that you can pass 
 through life without experiencing some of those 
 bitter lessoos which belong to the lot of humanity ? 
 You are now taking your initiation in the si-hool 
 of these harsh btem teachings. Severe though 
 this lesson be, pray ta. God tuat you may never 
 have a severer I"
 
 ASSES ; OE, BEAUIY AITD PtEASUEE 
 
 1C7 
 
 "Oh! what lesson of life could bo mora ter- 
 rible ?" cried Guslavus in accents of despair, as he 
 fiung the box upon the table with a force which 
 almoet shook down that piece of furniture. " But 
 tell me, how knew you all this? — how knew you 
 that it was Emily who did it ?" 
 
 ;." I first conjectured it," replied Mr. Hapgrave ; 
 " and it has since been proven to me by circum- 
 stantial evidence. If you have patience as well 
 as the inclination to listen, I will tell you every- 
 thins." 
 
 " I have patience — I will endeavour to be 
 calm !" rejoined Gustavus : but he was shivering 
 with an inward excitement. 
 
 " Now, I am going to deal frankly with you," 
 resumed the misanthrope; "and you must not be 
 angry if I tell you that yesterday morning I was 
 a listener to the entire conversation which took 
 place between yourself and Emily Pinnock on the 
 bank of the streamlet." 
 
 " 3^01* a listener, Mr. Hargrave f" cried Gus- 
 tavus, partly in astonishiaent and partly in indig- 
 nation. 
 
 " Yes— a listener," he coolly and quietly re- 
 peated. " But I did not go thither for the pur- 
 pose of listening: it was accident that led my 
 steps in that directional saw your meeting with 
 Emily— and fancying there was something strange 
 in your manner, I stood concealed that 1 might 
 observe you. Do you think that 1 was actuated 
 by any vulgar curiosity ? No, you cannot imagine 
 it ! But you are well aware that I experience a 
 degree of interest in you ; and 1 will even confess 
 that I was smitten with pain when I saw how 
 depressed and downcast you looked. I was then 
 ignorant of the loss of your treasure— I had heard 
 nothing of it — for it was perfectly true that I had 
 for three or four days been confined at home by 
 indisposition. So you see, Gustavus, that I did 
 not listen or watch from any bad motive, nor from 
 any unfriendly one." 
 
 " No, no, Mr. Hargrave ! I am sure you did 
 not !" exclaimed Gustavus ; " and I was wrong to 
 express any angry feeling !" 
 
 "Enough, my dear boy ! —let that pass," said 
 the misanthrope. "Well, I listened and I heard 
 everything which took place between yourself and 
 Emily. The loss of your treasure was then for 
 the first time revealed to my knowledge; and I 
 felt assured I could at once, it I had chosen, lay 
 my hand upon the authoress of that calamity. I 
 purposely sought you on the sea-shore in the 
 afternoon of yesterday ; for it was then my inten- 
 tion to communicate my suspicion— but I was 
 held back by the thought that it was but a sus- 
 picion after all ! I left you with a determination 
 of taking some step to investigate the matter, 
 though I scarcely knew what plan I should adopt. 
 At a later hour I met the negro Nelson, who 
 was rushing along as if in a frenzy. I imme- 
 diately stopped him. These negroes entertain a 
 species of superstitious terror of myself— but a 
 terror which is also mixed witli a certain degree 
 of reverence and respect. Nelson therefore 
 stopped when I commanded him. I inquired the 
 cause of his excitement. I spoke gently and 
 kindly to him : the follow was moved somewhat- 
 he dropped a few words from bis lips — and they 
 afforded a clue to the comprehension of something 
 that had happened ia lefereuce to Emily and your- 
 
 self. Then, by dint of further questioning, coax- 
 ing, and cajoling— by dealing gently with the 
 man, and speaking reassuringly to him — I elicited 
 all that he had to reveal." 
 
 Mr. Hargrave paused for a few moments, and 
 then said, " Was it not during the night of tho 
 20th of October that your treasure was lost?" 
 
 " Yes," replied , Gustavus : " it was on the 
 morning of tho 21st that 1 discovered the loss— 
 exactly five days ago." 
 
 " And it was on that night," proceeded Mr. 
 Hnrgravc, " that Nelson beheld Emily Pinnock at 
 tho casement of your bed-chamber !" 
 
 "Alil" ejaculated Gustavus: "then, alas! it 
 must be true. But still— but still, what faith can 
 we put in the words of that villanous negro ?" 
 
 " Every faith," responded Mr. Hargrave, 
 " when a particular assertion is corroborated by 
 events. Now listen ! that negro confessed to me 
 that he hos for some time past been fired by the 
 beauty of Emily Pinnock ; and he has been driven 
 almost to frenzy by the contemplation of her 
 charms. In the evening preceding the night 
 when your treasure was stolen, Nelson was sent 
 with a noto from Mr. Thurlow to Mr. Pin- 
 
 "True !— and it was that circumstance, coupled 
 with the idea that ho mijht in the garden have 
 overheard something which Emily and I were 
 saying in reference to tho gold— it was this, I re- 
 peat," continued Gustavus, "which led me in the 
 first instance to fix my suspicions upon him." 
 
 "Yes— on that evening," continued Mr. Har- 
 grave, " Nelson beheld you walking in the garden 
 together : but it really does not appear that he 
 overheard you say anything to each other in re- 
 spect to the gold. But he was again maddened 
 by the sight of Emily Pinnock : he has confessad 
 to mo that if tho Enemy of Mankind had sud- 
 denly appeared before him and offered him the 
 possession of Emily in exchange for his immortal 
 soul, he would have greedily clutched at the com- 
 pact. Ho returned home to his hut — he shunned 
 his companions— he refused to join in their even- 
 ing sports — he shut himself up in his dwelling. 
 But he could not sleep ; and at length, goaded by 
 his evil passions— that state of mind in which he 
 felt he must do something desperate to possess 
 himself of Emily— he stole forth. No oua beheld 
 him " 
 
 "No," interjected Gustavus; "for every one 
 of his fellow-negroes subsequently vowed that 
 Nelson had not quitted his hut." 
 
 " But he did, nevertheless," continued Mr, 
 Hargrave ; " and ho stole towards Mount Plea- 
 sant. There he concealed himself amongst the 
 trees, watching tho house— racking his brain for 
 some means of penetrating and making Emily hia 
 own, oven though he might subsequently en- 
 counter the penalty of death upon tho scaflbld i 
 But while he was still watching from his lurking- 
 place, in the middle of that night, he beheld a 
 casement open— ho saw some one in a night- 
 toilet there— he recognised Emily ! He knew 
 it was yuur chamber ; and the idea that Emily 
 was already possessed by you was intolerable to 
 his mind. Ho retreated from hia hiding-placo 
 — ho stole back to his hut. Oa the morro'.v, 
 when suddenly arrested and taken before his own 
 master, Mj:. Thurlow, the magistrate, on a chai yo
 
 las 
 
 AQSES; OB, BEAUTY A^'D PLEASUBB. 
 
 of stealing tlie golJ, ho waj about to reveal 
 nhat he had done and what ho had seen, when 
 the thought struck him that if he were to make 
 coDfession of a burglarious intent for the purpose 
 of committing one species of outrage, it would 
 be deemed evident that ho was thoroughly capable 
 of having perpetrated the other. So ho con- 
 tented himself with a vehement denial of the 
 imputation,— well knowing moreover that no one 
 could prove he bad quitted his hut during the 
 past night. He was at once discharged for want 
 of evidence." 
 
 " And then," ejaculated Gustavus, " I was sorry 
 that he bad been accused, for in my moments of 
 deliberate reflection I felt that there had really 
 been no evidence on which to suspect him." 
 
 " I new come to the transaction of yesterday," 
 continued Mr. Hargrave. " Nelson, still having 
 the image of Miss Pinnock constantly in his mind, 
 happened to be passing along the bank of the 
 streamlet which separates Mr. Pinnock's and Mr. 
 Thurlow's domains,— when he beheld Emily at a 
 little distance. She was alone; and without an 
 instant's hesitation the negro sprang across the 
 stream, presented himself before her, and vowed 
 that he would possess her, even though he were to 
 be put to death the neit moment. You however 
 appeared upon the spot — you rescued Emily — and 
 the negro fled. It was in the midst of his flight 
 that I stopped him, as I have already told you; 
 and I succeeded in eliciting from him all the par- 
 ticulars which I have just been reciting." 
 
 "Then Nelson," said Qustavus, with a trem- 
 bling voice, " knows — or at least suspects that 
 Emily took my gold ?" 
 
 " So far from knowing it, be does not even sus- 
 pect it," replied Mr. Hargrave. " These negroes 
 are naturally delicient in readiness of wit ; and 
 Nelson is perhaps more than usually dull in this 
 respect. He believes that Miss Pinnock has sur- 
 rendered herself to your arms, and that for this 
 purpose she was in your chamber : but he had no 
 knowledge of any motive which she might have to 
 abstract your gold— he knew not that she was 
 anxious to take some step which might prevent 
 you from proceeding to England. Thus to him 
 the loss of the treasure has been, and still remains, 
 a profound mystery. If for a moment he had in- 
 tended to explain to Mr. Tburlow what he saw on 
 the night when he watched Mount Pleasant, it was 
 only for the purpose of proving that he could not 
 have entered your chamber, for that some one else 
 was there. But as we have seen, a second con- 
 sideration made him hold his peace upon that 
 point." 
 
 " And now tell me, my dear sir," inquired Gas- 
 tavus, "how you came to discover the bos of 
 
 gold?" 
 
 " I hud already full well conjectured," proceeded 
 Mr. Hargrave, " from what I overheard yesterday 
 morning between yourself and Emily, that she had 
 abstracted the treasure : but when yesterday after- 
 noon I learnt that tale from Nelson's lips— the 
 tale of how she was seen at your casement in the 
 night— I had no longor any doubt. I was con- 
 vinced that my suspicions were correct. I at once 
 took the resolution to sift the matter to the very 
 bottom ; and I deliberated upon the course which 
 1 should arlopt. I asked myself how Emily could 
 have disposed of the box ? Not in her own cham- 
 
 • 1 not in any place where it was likely to be 
 discovered sooner than it might suit her views for 
 such discovery to be made ! Tou had told me 
 that you were shortly to marry Emily : so I rea- 
 soned within myself that when this marriage 
 should have taken place, and when you should ba 
 indissulubly linked to her, she would some day 
 suddenly pretend to have discovered the lost trea- 
 sure. With this aim she had doubtless hidden it 
 where it could be readily found again. Such were 
 my reflections. But where had she hidden it? 
 She had most probably buried it. Where had she 
 buried it ? At no great distance from the house, 
 because the box was heavy for her to carry, and 
 because on the night of its abstraction she would 
 have been afraid to remain too long absent from 
 her chamber. Thus was it that I reasoned; and 
 under these impressions I last night penetrated 
 into the garden of Mount Pleasant. It was a 
 beautiful night, and every object was perfectly 
 clear. I examined well all that part of the garden 
 which was nearest to the back door, by which I 
 concluded that Emily might have stolen forth on 
 the night of her exploit. I had the ramrod of a 
 gun with me ; and I probed the earth in every spot 
 which I thought at all likely to have been selected 
 for the concealment of the treasure. It was chiefly 
 in those places which a gardener would not require 
 to disturb for some time, that I patiently and care- 
 fully pursued my researches. At length they were 
 successful : for in the midst of a clump of trees the 
 ramrod struck against something bard. I went to 
 work— I scooped out the earth with a mason's 
 trowel which I bad taken with me for the purposo 
 — anil there is the result!" added Mr. Hargrave, 
 pointing to the box of gold. 
 
 Gustavua bad listened with a most painful inte- 
 rest to this narrative, which tended to show his 
 Emily in so evil a light, but which on the other 
 hand as lucidly displayed the sagacity, the fore- 
 thought, and the perseverance of the misanthrope. 
 When the tale was coflcluded, young Barrington 
 heaved a profound sig.1 ; and then be said to Mr. 
 Hargrave, " Accept my sincerest gratitude for all 
 that you have so successfully done to restore to 
 me my lost treasure. It was you who obtained 
 tho gold for me in the lirst instance ! — it is you 
 who have given it to me back again when I had 
 deemed it irrec jverably lost I" 
 
 "And now," asked Mr. Hargrave, fixing his 
 eyes keenly upon the youth, " how do you pur- 
 pose to act ? A ship will leave for England the 
 day after to-morrow " 
 
 "And by that ship I depart !'• responded Gis- 
 
 " 'Tis well, young man," said tho misanthrope. 
 "Adhere to that resolution — and I shall esteem 
 you. Emily Pinnock is no wife for you ! Of that 
 you must now be well assured ! You and I shall 
 meet again— yes, once again, and for toe last time. 
 The day after to-morrow the ship leaves for Eaj- 
 land : I shall see you at the moment of embark- 
 ation — for I may have something to communicate 
 — or perhaps a letter of which you will become 
 the bearer. And now go ! Take your box with 
 you— and may you make a good use of the trea- 
 sure which has again fallen into your hands!" 
 
 Gustavus reiterated the assurance of his grati- 
 tude towards Mr. Hargrave; and shouldering bis 
 box, he took his departure. Ibe state of his mind
 
 AGNES; OB, BEAITTT AND PLEASURE. 
 
 was now a t\yofold character: he experienced 
 an immense joy at the recovery of his wealth ; 
 but his i-efleetions in reference to Emily Pinnock 
 were gloomy indeed — far more gloomy than even 
 the keen-sighted Mr. Hargr.ive could possibly 
 have anticipated. In this frame of mind — ex- 
 hibiting as it were a quality of the brain, one 
 portion throbbing with joy, the other maddened 
 with a deep sense of grief— Gustavns pursued his 
 way ; and he reached Mount Pleasant. It was 
 now about three o'clock in the afternoon : he 
 entered the sitting-room from the garden, by 
 means of a casement wliieh stood open ; and he 
 deposited his box upon the table. Emily was not 
 there ; he sat down to await her presence. Not 
 many minutes had he thus tarried, when the doov 
 opened ; and it was with an ejaculation of joy that 
 1 bounding towards him, when she suddenly 
 
 the box upon the 
 
 Emily at once comprehended that everything 
 was discovered— though she had not the slightesi 
 conception how the tliscovery could have btt-u 
 brought about. Indeed, she hnd uo immeili:i'..- 
 leisure for such reflection, for tin lii-M. t.uik Ijm' 
 with a stupifying effect : she ^t;iL:ji-ixil back a:;. I 
 sank upon a sofa, Giistavus :iilv:moal towar.l 
 the casement and closed it : he next proceeded to 
 shut the room door, which Emily in her joy at 
 beholding that he had returned from his walk 
 sooner than she expected, had left open ; and then 
 accosting her, he taid in a voice full of emotion. 
 " I did not think that you coidd li.ive done 
 this <■■ 
 
 " Pardon me, Gustavus !" she exclaimed, throw- 
 ing herself at his feet; "for you know it was 
 through my love of you that I did it ! I could 
 not endure the idea of separation. I pictured to
 
 170 
 
 AGNES ; OB, BEAUTY ASD PLEASUEE, 
 
 myself a thousand things — the dangers of the sea 
 — shipwi-eck — conflagration! O Gustavus, I 
 should have died if yon had left me — and I 
 thought that you wished me to live that I might 
 btconie yoin-'s f" 
 
 Emily spoke in a voice so full of a touching 
 pathos — so eurucst in its appeal— so sincere in its 
 assurance of love, that Gustavas was already 
 moved. 
 
 She was kneeling at his feet — she had 
 thrown tor arms aiDund him— it vpas in- 
 dead an ignobly supplicative posture for her 
 to assume towards him ; hut still he coiUd 
 not bid her rise, for that would have seemed 
 like an overture of reconciliation— and though 
 he was moved somewhat, yet it was not 
 sufficiently for him to be reconciled to his offend- 
 ing mistress. 
 
 ■'You do not speak to me, Gustavus," she 
 said, passionately and cntreatingly ; " you have 
 ".eased to love mc— or else you are seeking the 
 tjrst ready pretext to cast me off and abandon 
 me. But no, no, Gustavus ! you will not do 
 this? The quadi-oon girl is yonr's by the 
 tenderest of ties — she is already your wife in 
 the sight of heaven— she has abandoned herself 
 to you ;^and it would not be mere desertion 
 on your part — it would be the most infamous 
 betrayal !" 
 
 " Oh, that fatal moment of weakness in 
 which we both erred- both sinned!" exclaimed 
 Gustavus, with passionate rage and remorse ; 
 '* it has bound me to you by a bond which 
 I dare not break— though eveiy other bond 
 would I have broken after the discovery of this 
 day!" 
 
 Slowly did the quadroon girl rise up from 
 her suppliant posture : and bending her large 
 dark eyes with indescribable tenderness as 
 well as mom'nfulness upon the youth, she 
 said in tremulous accents, "If it will be 
 more conducive. Gustavus, to your happiness 
 that you should leave me— that you should 
 desert and abandon me— depart! I will sacri- 
 fice myself for you ! Disgraced and dishonoured 
 m in every way— in my own 
 i in youv's— I ^all soon pine 
 and fade— my days will not be long on this 
 earth — and when you are atar off— perhaps 
 wedded to your cousin Winifred— you will 
 think of the quadroon Emily, who thought 
 no sacrifice too great to prove her love for 
 you — who gave you first her honour and then her 
 life!" 
 
 The tears were now streaming fast down the 
 cheeks of Gustavus. 
 
 Never had Emily seemed so eminently 
 beautiful as she was at this moment ! Those 
 I large dark eyes of her's were full of ten- 
 ; derness and pathos instead of the glow and 
 : fervour of passion ; and her voice — that 
 fluid musical voice— had such softly mourn- 
 , ful cadences as she now spoke, that Gus- 
 tavus was all but unmanned ; still he was not quite 
 
 i "EmUy," he s.iiJ, hastily dashing aw.ay his 
 tears, "it cuts me to the very soul to give utter- 
 ance to such words— but all confidence is now lost 
 
 j bet-seen us, and where there is no confidence theie 
 
 i can be no love!" 
 
 I "Oh! is my ci'ime so very, very great?" 
 
 ' she inquired, in the same melancholy aeceiks 
 
 I as before. " Did I irrecoverably make awa,y 
 
 I with your gold ?— did 1 so dispose of it 
 
 I that it never coiUd benefit your relations 
 
 1 in England ? No ! I merely coaci'aled it 
 
 I for a, period ; for I swear to you that on 
 i 
 
 the very day which would nisite us, I should 
 have thiown myself at your feet— I should haTO 
 told you everything— and I should have said 
 to you, ' Now lose not a moment in trans- 
 mitting the treasure to your gnmdsiro and 
 your coufiu !' — And would they have Uieu 
 much the worse for tarrying a few short weeks 
 before this gold reached Ihem ? Oh, if the 
 entire case was reversed, Gustavus— if it were 
 you who had bidden «ii/ gold and I had just 
 made the discovery — I should look upon it as a 
 proof of your ardent devoted love, and I should 
 pardon you!" 
 
 It was still with the most melting pathos 
 that Emily spoke, while she threw into her 
 entii'e demeanour so much dejection — so much 
 despondency — and at the same time so much 
 tenderness, that Gustavus was profoundly 
 touched. 
 
 According to the transition of her feelings did 
 the colour come and go beneath the transparent 
 duskiness of the skin : but the redness of the Ups re- 
 mained ; and as they moved in speech, they 
 displayed the teeth of ivory whiteness. Her 
 bosom palpitated— its undulations were re- 
 vealed by the rising and sinking of the 
 light dress which defined her contours ; and 
 altogether she was a being whose appearance 
 was only too well calculated to impart success 
 to the appealing prayer which she was ad- 
 dressing to a hitherto ardent and impassioned 
 lover. 
 
 Nevertheless, as Gustavus still' appeared 
 to waver and to hesitate — as he was "strug- 
 gling .igaiust the powerful sympathies and 
 the strong affeciions which agitated withm 
 him — the beautiful quadroon continued her 
 speech. 
 
 " After all," she said ; " for what are 
 you blaming me so severely ? for what are 
 you thinking of abandoning me ? For a 
 deception which I have practised ! You know 
 that it would be ridiculous to call it a theft 
 — prepo.iteroua to imagine that I intended to 
 self-appropriate your gold ! Have I not all the 
 luxuries and comforts that I desire? is not 
 my uncle rich ? and shall I not be his heiress ? 
 Well then, it was not a theft : it was a de- 
 ception. But oh, Gustavus! have i/ou too 
 not been guilty of deception, though of an- 
 other kind — and have you not made me youi* 
 accomplice therein ? Is not my good uncle 
 deceived while he continues to imagine that 
 I am pure and stainless P — and daie you go to 
 him and say that in return for his ho.spitality 
 and kindness you h.ive seduced bis niece f No 
 — you dare not ! — you are compelled to dissem- 
 ble in his presence — and that dissimulation is 
 deception!" 
 
 " But, Emily !" returned Gustavus, after a few- 
 moments silence, " such deception as this is very 
 different " 
 
 "Hear me, Gustavus." interrupted the quad- 
 roon: "I have yet a "few more words to say. 
 Yes — wc are both guilty of deception in 
 havhig committed a weakness— a crime— and 
 yet in daring to look my uncle in the face 
 as if we were still both pure and vh-tuouii 
 as at first ! And then too, did we not sup. 
 press the incident of the outrage committed 
 l)y the negi'o ?— and why did we suppress it ? 
 Because our own Buor followed closely there- 
 upon— because it almost appeared to be a 
 consequence brought about by the other's 
 villany— it threw > 1 together at the mommt 
 —it nuns;- me faiu ing and with a disordereii I 
 dress into your, arms— and you profited by I
 
 AGNES ; OK, BEAUTY 
 
 the opportunity ! Therefore was it as if by 
 tacit consent that we held our pence in re- 
 spect to S^elsou's outrage ; for I know that 
 you felt as I did— and this feeling w:is that 
 wo dared not touch upon a topic wliioh had asso- 
 ciations that would have brought the blushes of 
 shame to our cheeks. Oh ! pardon this long dis- 
 course, Gustavus 1 I do not blame you — I do not 
 reproach you : I love you, if possible, more than 
 ever ! — but my object is to prove that if you your- 
 self are not altogether guiltless of deception, it is 
 cruel to -meet mtj deception so heavily and so 
 
 All the time the quadroon was thus speaking, 
 young Barrington felt as if he could fling his arms 
 about her neck and strain her to his breast : and 
 yet some contrary power held him back. There 
 was a world of eloquence in the soft pathetic 
 energy of her language ; and yet bo could not 
 help feeling that there was a world of fine- 
 drawn sophistry in it likewise; for the de- 
 ceptions whereo'f she spoka were discrepant in- 
 deed from that deception which she hor=eii had 
 committed. , „ 
 
 And then too Gustavus thought of Mr. Hargrave 
 — of the pledge which he had given the misanthrope 
 to leave the inland with the least possible delay ; he 
 remembered how Mr. Hargrave had declared that 
 ho should esteem him if he remained faithful 
 to that pledge ; and Gustavus felt that he 
 could not easily endure the scorn and contempt 
 of such a man as Hargrave. 
 
 Thus he stood irresolute how to act : he knew 
 not what course to adopt. , , ^ ., 
 
 " Am I to remain unforgiven ?" asked Emily, 
 after a pause, during which she stood like 
 a suppliant before him, with all the native 
 unstudied graces of form and attitude, and 
 with her luminous dark eyes bent downward 
 and curtained by their long ebon fringes. 
 " I have already said, Gustavus, that il you 
 feel your happiness will be ensured by a aban- 
 doning me, I am ready to saciifice myself 
 for your sake. But at least forgive me ! 
 Leave me not in anger 1 I am not the same 
 to yon now as I was before we erred and sinned : 
 I am your wife in the sight of heaven— and you 
 must not lightly resolve upon refusing your par- 
 don to one who has so sacred a claim upon 
 
 "jtefuseit? No! no!" ejaculated Gustavus : 
 and the next moment Emily was clasped in his 
 arms. 
 
 There is an ineffable luxury in a reconciliation 
 between lovers. The ki-sses with which they seal 
 it are the sweetest and most fervid that can be 
 bestowed— their arms strain each other with 
 a stronger pressure— they appear as if anxious 
 to efface by means of present demonstrations 
 of affection the impressions of recent unkind- 
 ness. ' 
 
 And so was it now with Gustavus and 
 Emily ; and while the youth held the boautif ul 
 quadroon in his arms — pressed his lips to hers 
 — drank iu the fragrance of her breath— and 
 caught from her luminous eyes the transfusion 
 of her own fond enraptured feelings, he thought 
 no more of Hargrave— he thought of nothing 
 in the whole world but the bliss of the present 
 moment. 
 
 When tho first ebullition of these feelings 
 attendant upon reconciliation had passed, Gus- 
 tavus and Emily had leis\ire for deliberate dis- 
 course. 
 
 The youth explained to the quadroon every- 
 thing which had taken place between him- 
 pi>lf and Mr. Hargrave ; and Emily now learat 
 for the first time how she had been seen by 
 
 AKD I'liEASHRE. 171 
 
 the negro at the casement of her youthful 
 lover's room on the night when she abstracted 
 the box of gold. She confessed to him all the 
 truth. 
 
 "I penetrated into your chamber," she 
 said, " determined to take the only step which 
 crjuld prevent you from leaving the island 
 and seeking your native land. Gently I opened 
 the door ; your regular breathing convinced 
 me that you slept. I bent over you, Gus- 
 tavus— I should have imprinted a kiss upon 
 your brow but that I feared to awaken you. 
 I jiossessed myself of the box of gold : and 
 then, to give a burglarious colom- to the 
 whole proceeding, I opened the ca-emeut, and 
 with the diamond of my ring I cut a pane ■ 
 of glass, so that it iiiiglit seem as if it had 
 bceii done from the oulsido, and that its ob- 
 ject was to allow a baud to be introduced to 
 open the fastening insidf. You may con- 
 ceive how violently my heart palpitated, and 
 how I dreaded every moment lest you should 
 awake ! But you slept soundly : and my 
 task was accomplished I swear to you, Gus- 
 tavus, that when on the following morning I 
 witnessed your mental anguish at the loss of your 
 gold, I commiserated you— Oh ! deeply, deeply 
 commiserated you !— and it went to my heai-t to 
 keep the secret ! But love is selfish : and, Oh !' 
 «i,y love is so strong, so devoted, so fond ! — and 
 through its very fondness has it won me your 
 pardon !" 
 
 '• Yes, dearest Emily," replied the infatuated 
 youth : " not another syllable of reproach shall 
 y"U over hc.ir from my lips ! But we have been 
 s.iMkiug of deceptions— and now it seems to me 
 that some new deception will have to be practised 
 to account to your uncle for the recovery of this 
 gold." 
 
 "Do you think," asked Emily, after a few 
 moments' reflection, " that Mr. Hargi-ave will 
 tell my uncle everything when next they meet ? 
 — for if so, I should never again dare look 
 my uncle in the face. He is a man of the 
 strictest probity and the utmost rectitude of 
 principle ; while on the other hand he comprehends 
 nothing of such love as we experience for each 
 other. Therefore his anger against- me would be 
 all the gre.aterf" 
 
 "' I feel convinced that Mr. Hargrave will 
 say nothing to your uncle upon the subject," 
 replied Gustavus. " He has evidently left the 
 entire matter in my hands. If he had meant 
 to pursue any special course of his own, 
 would he not have brought the box of gold 
 hither and restored it to me in the presence 
 of Mr. Pinnock, at the same time revealing 
 all he knew in reference to yourself, so as 
 the more effectually to cover you, my poor 
 Emily, with shame ? But no, ulr. Havgra.Te 
 has not thus acted. He looks upon it as my 
 business— and mine only ; and so will ho 
 leave it. I do not hesitate to tell you that I 
 shall for ever forfeit the esteem of that strange 
 man who luis shown me such goodness ; but, 
 ah ! Emily," adcied the youth with a sigh, "there 
 are many, many sacrifices to be matle for the sake 
 of love '." 
 
 " Yes— many, many sacrifices," murmured the 
 quadroon, winding her anna about her lover's 
 neck. " And now tell me, Gustavus, is it neces- 
 sary at all— is it absolutely needful th.at mv 
 uncle should bo informed of the recovery of the 
 gold?" 
 
 The youth reflected for a few moments ; 
 and then he exclaimed " No ! it were better 
 to keep the. secret altogether than to entangle 
 ourselves in a web of ai-tifices . and deceptions.
 
 AONES; OE, BEATJTT AlfD PLEASURE. 
 
 If I were to tell him that I found the box 
 buried in the gardeu, he would not believe 
 the tale ; it would naturally strike him that 
 no person having incxured the risk of a 
 burglary for the sake of the treasure, would 
 forthwith burj* it in the garden of the very 
 houie where the deed was perpetrated. And 
 then, too, he would ask me how I came to 
 dig so as to discover it ? — whether it were 
 the result of information received or of accident ? 
 It would be necessary to devise a thousand 
 falsehoods ; and the wilful telling thereof wotild 
 be worse as well as more dangerous than the 
 mere suppression of the fact that the box is 
 recovered." 
 
 Emily was only too glad to support the reason- 
 ing of her lover, and to encourage him in the con- 
 clusions to which he had just arrived. 
 
 Fortunately for their project none of the 
 laboui-ers on the estate and none of the domestics 
 of Mount Pleasant had seen him passing along 
 with the box on his shoulder ; and consequently 
 lie felt certain there was nothing to fear on this 
 
 Gustavus now hastened up to his chamber 
 with the box ; and he once more secured 
 it in the cupboard whence it had been ab. 
 stracted. 
 
 " I will take an early opportunity," he said 
 to himself, " of transmitting this treasure to 
 England by some secret and secure means. 
 But as for my own voyage thither — that is 
 no longer to be thought of! It seems written 
 in the book of destiny itself that I shall remain 
 altogether here with my beloved and beauteous 
 Emily!" 
 
 Though Gustavus had so positively proclaimed 
 his conviction that Mr. Hargrave would say 
 nothing upon the subject to Mr. Pinnock, 
 yet he conld not prevent certain doubts and 
 misgivings on the point from floating in his 
 mind. 
 
 He therefore resolved to see Mr. Hargrave as 
 soon as possible, and to explain to him that 
 he had consulted his happiness by pardoning 
 Emily. 
 
 The youth liked as little as possible the 
 idea of having to confront the misanthrope 
 with such a tale : but he saw that it was ab- 
 solutely necessary, and he nerved himself to 
 swallow the bitter pill. 
 
 Accordingly, on the ensuing day — during 
 those sultry hours when Emily was wont to re- 
 main indoors — Gu-stavus proceeiled to the sea- 
 shore where on former occasions he had met the 
 misanthrope. 
 
 But Mr. Hargrave did not make his appejir- 
 ance ; and the youth, after vainly taiTying for 
 some time, i)roceeded in the ilii-ection of the 
 cottage. 
 
 He found Mr. Hargrave at home, seated in 
 the parloui* where their interview of the pre- 
 ceding day had taken pl,ice. He was employeil 
 in writing ; but the instant Gustavus crossed 
 the threshold of the little i-oom, he threw do\^-n 
 his pen and surveyed him with keenest atten. 
 tion. Indeed there was a certain mistnist 
 immediately expressed in Mr. Hargrave's look ; 
 and this rapidly increased in proportion as young 
 Harrington's confusion became the more evi- 
 dent. 
 
 " I did not expect to see yon before to-morrow 
 when the vessel takes its departure for England," 
 si'.id the misanthrope. 
 
 "Tou will think me very foolish, sir," faltered 
 Gustavus, colouring deeply ; " but — but — I have 
 
 changed my mind " 
 
 " Oh," said Mr. Haijrave drily, " I have no 
 
 right to think upon the subject at all : and there { 
 is no need why 1 should trouble myself with your 
 vacUliatious." 
 
 "Certainly not, Mr. Hargrave," rejoined the 
 youth, stammering and blushing still more than at 
 tiKit. " But I thought — after everything that had 
 taken place " 
 
 " Now, the truth is," exclaimed the misan- 
 thrope, starting up from his seat, "you are a 
 love-sick boy, and yon have suffered yourself to 
 be cajoled by Emily Pinnock's wiles. Well, you 
 are not the only one of your sex who has be- 
 trayed this weakness. Womnn is at the bottom 
 of every mischief in the world ; and how could 
 I have hoped that you could prove yourself an 
 exception illustrating strength and fortitude r 
 You are not a Samson ; and therefore an Emily 
 Pinnock, with considerably less than a Dalilah s 
 fascinations, could, I have no doubt, easily be- 
 guile you." 
 
 There was an exceeding bitterness in Mr. 
 Hargrave's accents as well as in his language, 
 though his tone was also coldly contemptuous. 
 Gustavus smarted and writhed tmder the terrible 
 infliction : he was fnl! of eonf usion — he knew not 
 what to say. 
 
 " And so you have doubtless abandoned your 
 intention to convey that gold to your aged 
 grandsire who has been twenty-five years in 
 prison, and to your cousin Winifred — the poor 
 orphan who is heaven knows how friendless ! 
 These were your own words — eh ! — of two or 
 three days ago r"— and now the expression of 
 the misanthrope's countenance was both stem 
 and contemptuous. 
 
 "I will send them that gold!'' exclaimed the 
 youth, with difficulty keeping back the tears 
 that started to the very brims of his eyes. "Oh ! 
 not for a single instant was I so selfish as to 
 think of keeping it for myseK ! And if, Mr. 
 Hargrave, you would only do me one last act of 
 kindness — if jou yourself would favour me by 
 sending the gold ' ' 
 
 "I?" ejaculated the misanthrope: "and why 
 should I send it ? But of course I can answer 
 the question myself :" — then gazing with stem 
 steadiness upon the youth, he added, "'Ton have 
 concealed from Mr. Pinnock the fact of the re- 
 storation of this gold !" 
 
 " Tes — for Emily's sake. Oh, I love her, 
 Mr. Hargrave !— and if you only knew her 
 better " 
 
 " I know her well enough, judging from the 
 influence which she seems' to_have acquired over 
 you." 
 
 "Tou speak strongly, sir," said Gustavus, 
 now becoming somewhat indignant at the tone 
 adopted by Mr. Hargrave in respect to the well- 
 beloved quadroon. "But I hope and entreat 
 that yon will make to her father's ears tio re- 
 velation which may in any way prejudice that 
 gentleman against her ?'' 
 
 "You may rest a-ssm-ed," answered the misan- 
 thrope, " that I shall interfere no further in your 
 affairs. Pui-sue yonr own course. I was a fool 
 for attempting to influence it with a good pur- 
 pose. Tears and years have elapsed since I took 
 an interest in any human being ; and thus, on 
 the very first occasion that I take a forward 
 step which I deem calculated to bring me nearer 
 to my fellow-creatures, I am rudely burled back 
 again into the depth of cynicism, disappointment, 
 and .ipathy." 
 
 " For God's sake do not believe that I am 
 ungrateful!" cried Gustavus, infinitely pained 
 by the bitter language of one whose friendship he 
 had so much esteemed. 
 
 "Enough! Leave me!" ejaculated Mr. Har-
 
 AGNES ; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASUKE. 
 
 grave : and he imperiously waved his hand to- 
 wards the door. .,„ ^ 
 
 " No— we cannot part thus ! said Gustarus m 
 an anguished tone. 
 
 "Leave me, I say!" exclaimed the misan- 
 thrope authoritatively : and he at once resumed 
 his writing. 
 
 Gustavus lingered for a few moments : then 
 with a profound sigh he turned and issued from 
 the room. , , , 
 
 Slowly did he wend his way back towards 
 Mount Pleasant ; and it was not until again in 
 the society of his hclovcd Emily that he could 
 console hfm.H-lf for the exceedingly unpleasant 
 nature of this lust interview with Mr. Har- 
 
 Several days passed : the youth continued to 
 be as infatuated as ever with the beautiful 
 quadroon, who studied her utmost to indemnify 
 him by her own caresses and proofs of love, for 
 whatsoever vexations he might have under- 
 
 ° Mr. Pinnock remained in profound ignorance 
 of the discovery of the box : he, however, fre- 
 quently alluded to it;' and on those occasions 
 Gustavus felt as if he must throw himself at the 
 merchant's feet and confess the entire truth. 
 But he dissembled his emotions, though it cost 
 his conscience a bitter pang as the conviction 
 was forced upon him that he was daily and 
 hourly losing more and more of the natural 
 frankness of his disposition, and was proportion- 
 ately becoming experienced in the artifices of 
 hypocrisy. . , . i. 
 
 As for the box itself, it remained m the cup- 
 board where it was concealed ; for Gustavus 
 found no means of conveying it secretly to a ship 
 that it might be forw.arded to England. Dui-ing 
 these few days which thus elapsed since his last 
 interview with Mr. Hargrave, he did not again 
 see that gentleman. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE BRIDAL DAT. 
 
 It soon became known in the neighbourhood 
 that Gustavus Barrington was shortly to con- 
 duct Miss Pinnock to the altar ; and many of 
 the leading families called at Mount Pleasant to 
 pay their "civilities towards the young couple, as 
 well as to form the. acquaintance of the bride- 
 groom himself. Gustavus was pleased with the 
 attentions thus shown him : he was likewise 
 proud of the admiration which was invariably 
 testified in Ijomage of the beauty of his mtended. 
 Mr. Pinnock treated him as if he had known 
 him-from his birth : indeed the worthy merchant 
 displayed towards the youth a paternal attach- 
 ment. The preparations for the bridal were 
 makin" progress : and Gustavus looked forw.ard 
 with pleasure to the day which woiUd give Emily 
 the title of his wife. . 
 
 But did he write to his cousin and uncle m 
 England, to acquaint them with his contem- 
 plated marriage ? No— he dared not. Amongst 
 the few little drawbacks to his happmess, was 
 the idea that "Winifred would regard that mar- 
 riage of his as an inconstancy towards herself, 
 and that both she and the old man would con- 
 sider he had abandoned them by settling himself 
 in a far-off clime. 
 
 Each day did he vow to take some step in 
 order to transmit the box 
 fives, as the best proof he 
 had not forgotten them, and as a salve likewise 
 
 to his own conscience in respect to Winifred. 
 But something always transpired to prevent mm 
 from adopting that course. His walk mth 
 EmUy was prolonged— or visitors arrived to offer 
 their congratulations on the approaching bridal 
 —or else (which was indeed the mam obstacle) 
 the youth knew not how to convey the box 
 into Kingston and ship it on board a vessel, 
 without attracting some notice or exciting some 
 suspicion. , , ,. 
 
 At length, as Gustavus was one day rambling 
 forth alone, he suddenly encountered Mr. Har- 
 grave. At first he stood full of confusion ; and 
 the misanthrope himself did not immediately 
 speak. ., -J 
 
 "I have not seen you, sir, for ten days, said 
 Gustavus, at last breaking that embarrassing 
 
 " I suppose that I have not chanced to walk 
 in the same spots whither your footsteps led 
 you," responded Mr. Hargrave drily; "but if 
 you had really wished to see me, you might have 
 sought me at my residence." 
 
 "I was fearful— after our last interview, 
 faltered Gustavus, "that I had so sunk in your 
 estimation " . ,, 
 
 " We will not discuss past matters again, 
 interrupted the misanthrope. "Ton have for- 
 given Emily Pinnock— you are gomg to marry 
 her— the preparations are making for your bndal 
 —and as you cannot now in honour retreat trom 
 your pledge, neither should I attempt to dissuade 
 you from the engagement. But what have you 
 done with the gold V" 
 
 "Ah, my dear sir!" ejaculated Gustavus, 1 
 am now as much embaiTassed with that trea- 
 sure as if I had dishonestly become possessed of 
 
 " Of course you are ! How could it possibly 
 be otherwise ?" demanded Mr. Hargrave. " But 
 in this instance I am willing to assist you— for 
 the sake of your grandfather and your cousin 
 who may be suffering the pangs of poverty in 
 England." , „ , 
 
 "Oh, if you will do this," cned Gustavus, 
 "you know not how infinitely I shall be obliged 
 to you, and what a weight will be lifted from my 
 mind !" ,, ^ , 
 
 " 'Tis well," said the misanthrope: "I have 
 promised to succour you — and I will do so. This 
 night, precisely at twelve o'clock, I will send a 
 trustworthy person to receive the box. At that 
 hour he shall be under your casement : you wJl 
 be in readiness— and you will lower down the 
 box by a rope. By the adoption of these pre- 
 cautions no one in the house besides yourself 
 need be aware of what is being done. To- 
 morrow the box shall be shipped at Kingston for 
 conveyance to England ;— and to-morrow like- 
 I wise you can write your letters of advice to your 
 grandfather and your cousin." 
 
 "In every respect you are a fnend to me ! 
 exclaimed Gustavus, seizing the misanthrope's 
 hand and pressing it with fervour. "Oh, my 
 dear sir, think not ill of me " 
 
 "Enough !" interrupted Mr. Hargrave, some- 
 what abruptly withdrawing his hand. " Ah ! 
 by the bye," he continued, " you rememher that 
 the other day when you purposed to leave 
 Jamaica, I told you I should have a letter to 
 send by you to England. I will give yon that 
 letter to-moiTow— and you shall enclose it in the 
 one which you are to write to your grand- 
 father. Do not be surprised when you find 
 that it is addressed to old Mr. Barrington him-
 
 174 
 
 AGNES ; OK, BEAUTT AND PLEAST7BE. 
 
 "Ye?, " rejoined Mr. Har^-ave. "But you 
 need not be afraiil that I purpose to make 
 any representation at all prejudicial to your' 
 self. Such is not my object — but the humour 
 has taken me to sympathise with the poor old 
 gentleman." 
 
 "Oh, this is indeed good of yon!" cried Gus- 
 tavus. " Obligation after obligation do you lay 
 me under !" 
 
 " To.night, at twelve o'clock precisely, be 
 upon the look out !" said Mr. Hargrave curtly ; 
 and he then hastened away, aa though unwilling 
 to prolong the interview. 
 
 This scene took place in n road boriared on 
 one side by a dense line of trees ; and at the 
 very instant that the misanthrope hurried off, 
 as just stated, it struck Gustavus that he not 
 merely heard a slight rustling amongst those 
 trees at a little distance, but he felt almost cer- 
 tain that he likewise caught a glimpse of a human 
 form. 
 
 He at once sped in that direction ; he plunged 
 amidst the trees — but he beheld no one. He 
 looked evei-ywhere about— he even examined the 
 ground to ascertain if there were any traces of 
 footsteps : but there was naught to justify bis 
 suspicion that a listener had been concealed 
 there. 
 
 He returned into the road, and pursued his 
 
 way towards Mount Pleasant, — where, on being 
 
 at once joined by Emily, be communicated to 
 
 , lier the arrangement he had just made with Mr. 
 
 i Hargrave. 
 
 I The quadroon had all along been most ani- 
 
 I ious that the box of gold shoiild be by some 
 
 ! means shipped off to Kngland ; for so long as 
 
 I it was in the house she nerer felt entirely safe 
 
 I with regard to her loTCi^she feared lest at any 
 
 I moment he should alter his mind and insist upon 
 
 I becoming himself the bearer of the treasure to 
 
 I his relations in his native land. Now, there- 
 
 j fore, that it was at length to be removed from 
 
 Mount Pleasant, and that Gustavus diopped no 
 
 hint of any desire to accompany it, Emily was 
 
 much rejoiced ; and she accordingly ex])ressed 
 
 her approval of the plan devised by Mr. Har^ 
 
 grave. . 
 
 Gustavus retired to bis chamber at the usual 
 hour — namely, a short time before eleven o'clock ; 
 for Mr. Pinnock was wont to keop him with him 
 for some little while after Emily had withdrawn 
 from the sitting-room. 
 
 On being alone in his own apartment, Gus- 
 
 I tavns drew forth the bos of gold froin the 
 
 I cupboard, and fastened aroimd it the end of a 
 
 cord which he had taken the precaution of pro- 
 
 cm-ing as a means of lowering it from the case- 
 
 lueut. 
 
 'I'he night ■ 
 
 (r;i-taTns wondered who was the trustworthy 
 pei-son that ilr. Hargrave purposed to send to 
 receive the treasure : but after a moments re- 
 flection he concluded that the individual must 
 be Sambo, the old negro who attended upon 
 liim. 
 
 Then Gustavus began to wonder what the 
 misanthrope intended to write to his old grand- 
 father in London : but he was by no means 
 uneasy on the point, for he felt convinced that 
 Mr. Hargrave was a man of his word, and he 
 had promiised not to make any representation 
 which might prejudice the youth in the opinion 
 of hi.-> relatives. 
 
 In these and other reflections, with which the 
 image of the beaiitcous quadroon was frequently 
 blended, did Gustavus while away the time imtil 
 
 his watch showed that it was close upon the 
 midnight hour. 
 
 He then bethought himself that it would bo 
 better to extinguish his light ; for if any one 
 should happen to be passing in the neighbour- 
 hood of the villa at the time when the ^x was 
 being lowered from the casement, the proceed- 
 ing would stand all the greater chance of being 
 observed if the taper were kept burning. He 
 therefore extinguished it ; and estimating as well 
 as he was able the minutes which had to elapse 
 until midnight, he at length noiselessly opened 
 the casement. 
 
 Almost at the same moment his car caught 
 the sound of a slight rustling amidst the adjacent 
 trees ; and this sound wsis followed by the light 
 and stealthy tread of cautiously advancing foot- 
 steps. 
 
 A figure stopped underneath the window : but 
 it was too dark for Gustavus to recognise the 
 individual. 
 
 The box was in readiness : the yonth lifted it 
 — he was on the very point of placing it on the 
 window-sill in order to be thence lowered by the 
 rope, when the silent air was suddenly broken 
 upon by the report of a pistol, instantaneon^ly 
 followed by a second. 
 
 A cry "of mortal agony rang forth from be- 
 neath young Ban-ington's casement ; and this 
 was immediately followed by the heavy fall of a 
 human form. 
 
 Though with hair standing on end and blood 
 curdling with horror, yet Gustavus mechani- 
 cally deposited the box upon the floor ; and then 
 thmstiug forth his head from the casement, he 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 " Good heavens ! what is the matter ?— what 
 has happened r" 
 
 He thus spoke because he at the instant be- 
 held a couple of men hurrying through the 
 garden towards the spot where the individual lay 
 beneath the window ; and one of those men car- 
 ried a lantern, which thus revealed their forms 
 to the youth. 
 
 "Don't be afraid, Mr. Barrington !" ex- 
 claimed a voice, which the yonth at once re- 
 cognised to be that of an upper servant, or 
 bailiff, belonging to the domain of Mount Plea- 
 sant, " it is only a robber who is very rightly 
 served." 
 
 "A robber?" ejaciUated Gnstavns, in accents 
 of wild horror : for he fancied that it was the 
 faithful and inoffensive negro attached to the 
 service of Mr. Hargrave yho had thus met a 
 violent death. 
 
 Indeed, in the frenzy of his harrowed feelings, 
 the youth was on the very point of giving vent 
 to ejaculations that woiJd have at least excited 
 suspicion, if not actually betrayed something in 
 connexion with his own arrangement for that 
 particular hour, — when a gentle hand was laid 
 upon his shoulder, and a sweet voice said in his 
 car, — 
 
 " Hush !" 
 
 Emily was standing behind him ; and he at 
 once tui-ned towai-ds her. 
 
 "For heaven's sake beware how you betray 
 cver>-thing !" whispered the quadroon hurriedly : 
 and the youth now saw that she was only par- 
 tmUy dressed. 
 
 " But murder has been committed ! — a hide- 
 ous murder!" he ejaculated, though in a sub- 
 dued tone — " the murder of a faithful and trust- 
 worthy person " 
 
 '■ Hush ! hush !" snid the quadroon, in an | 
 agony of terror. "They are beneath the win- ! 
 dow— they will hear yon " 
 
 " And ty heaven they may hear me, Emily —
 
 AGNES; OE, BEAUTY AND PLEASUB 
 
 175 
 
 for the truth must be told !" rejoined Gustavus, 
 (Hiivcriug with hoiTor at the lU'ed which had 
 been cousumroatcd. " His ileath lies at my 
 door!" he continued. '*ilis blood will be upon 
 my head!" 
 
 " Tell everything if yon will, Gustavus," said 
 the quadroon : " bat remember that if a Finale 
 sylluble of disclosui-e be made in respect to the 
 
 gold, everytliiuij must come out and what 
 
 will then be thought of me ?" 
 
 •^But still — but still, Emily," said Gus- 
 tavus, " there are considerations beyond all 
 others " 
 
 "Ah! what is that I hear?" suddenly 
 ejaculated the quadi-oou. " Nelson ! Is it pos- 
 sible ■" 
 
 "Nelson?" echoed Gustavus: and ho again 
 looked forth from the casement. 
 
 The baililt and his companion were now 
 bending over the corpse — for the wietched 
 man was indeed dead ; and the light of the 
 lantern was streaming full upon his countenance. 
 
 "Yes — it is Nelson — Mr. Thurlow's nigger," 
 said the bailiif, in a loud voice. " A pretty ras- 
 cal !" 
 
 "Perhaps he stole the young gentleman's 
 gold after all ?" remarked the bailiff's com- 
 panion : " and was coming on a second esncdi- 
 tion " 
 
 " Nehon, do you say?" cried Mr. Pinnock, 
 "who. clad in a dressing gown, now rushed oat of 
 the back door of the housse. 
 
 " Then you need say nothin?, Gastavus ! " 
 whispered the quadroon; "for the wretcli has 
 only most deservedly anl righteously met his 
 fate." 
 
 " Ah !" ejaoukted O^i.'^tavus, as he again 
 turned towards Euiily : " I remember that iiis- 
 tling among the trees — tha* glimpse which I 
 fancied I caught of a form ! Eetire to your 
 room, dear Emily !— rest assured that I will say 
 nothing that shall be calculated to compromise 
 you !" 
 
 A hastily snatched embrace, and the qu.ad- 
 roon glided away. 
 
 Gustavus, agiiiu thrusting his head from the 
 casement, exclaimed, — 
 
 " Have I indeed heard aright ? — is it Nelson 
 who ii. kUled f " - 
 
 " Yes, and no other, my boy," replied Mr. 
 Pinnock. "I am sony you should have been 
 so alarmed — I hop? some of the women htive 
 gou'? to iioor Emily — for' the report of the 
 I)istol3 were sufficient- tp send her off into a 
 
 " Do not be alarmed on my account, dear 
 nncle," said the young l.idy, now spe.iking from 
 her own casement ; " though I have indeed been 
 terribly frightened !" 
 
 " Get to bed aiain, my dear," ejaculated the 
 mer:;hant ; " it is only a villain, who after all 
 has met his righteous doom." 
 
 Several domestics of the household had by 
 this time followed their master to the spot ; and 
 Gusiavus lost no time in tran.-ferring the box of 
 gold back into the cupboard whence he had just 
 taken it. 
 
 Having secured it there, he sped down stairs 
 and joined the group, to whom the bailiff 
 vrnH just expkining how the affair had hap. 
 pee.ed. 
 
 '•"Why, you see," he s.aid, "it being the turn 
 of me and my mate here to watch the premises 
 to-uif'ht- — " 
 
 " You must know, Gustavus," interrupted Mr. 
 Pinnock, " that ever since the mysteriom rob- 
 btiry of your gold I have ordered the premises to 
 be watched —though certainly until to-night I ' 
 
 fancied it was very much like shutting the stable- 
 door after tho steed was stolen. But go on, 
 Jackson." 
 
 "As I was saying, sir," continued the bailiff, 
 to whom this mandate was addressed, "X and 
 my mate were coming through the plantation 
 yonder, just this side of the wooden briilgo, M'hcn 
 thi-ough the obscurity of the vrrh. t.p ':n- .-o;i;J 
 one cwws that bridge: and ■- \ ' ;! v.tih 
 at a suitable distance. We i ; < : ! ■ 
 
 garden fence; and then we h . .■.:■. m, : .u.. 
 So said I to my mate, 'He'.; u.-l iUe I^iicu 
 into the garden, I'll be bound !'— And my mate 
 said the same. Then we crept along till at last, 
 .«urc euough ! we saw the fellow just upon the 
 spct where he now lies. Cr.\ck wont my pistol— 
 and, almost immediately attcrwardi, crack went 
 my mate's!" 
 
 ""And that's all," added Mr. Pinnock; "for 
 the result is before us ! Now move the corpse 
 to an outhouse, and let information be given to 
 Mr. Thurlow as well as to the coroner 1 lie very 
 first thing in the morning. Come, let's be ol^' to 
 our chambers again : there cannot be the 
 slightest necessity for us to lose our uocdtul 
 rest for the sake of a viUanous wretch such as 
 ihU V 
 
 The dead body was accordingly borne away to 
 an outhouse : Mr. Pinnock, Gustavus, and tlie 
 domestics ascended to their respective apart- 
 ments again. • 
 
 But Gustanis could not sleep : the image of 
 of tho slain negro haunted him. It was not 
 that ho had any remorse, compunction, or re- 
 gret on Nelson's account ; for it was only too 
 evident that by some means or another the 
 villanous negro had taken the place of the 
 tru.stworthy mesfenger whom Mr. Hargr.ave 
 had purposed to send to receive the box of gold. 
 
 But still Gustavus was by nature so merci- 
 ful and so ivver-f to the flieddiii? of Imiiiau 
 
 blood, that i- o—i.i -•■'^ '■ ^^ ;„,„.;„„ :,, 
 
 certain sjn" i , i 
 
 as in the (!: 
 
 the ecenc \ 
 
 morning a i, ' i : i ii I i 
 
 thatrestle?3 ;4ninber lie eoutiuuud to beliuld the 
 
 image of the slain negro. 
 
 lie rose at an early tt)ur and at once set off to 
 Mr. Hargrave's cottage. At the very instant 
 th,at ho entered the little garden in which it 
 stood, the misanthrope was coming forth from 
 his front door. 
 
 " 'What brings you hither so early ?" inquired 
 Mr. Hargrave. " You look pale and ill. Has 
 anythmg happened ? — has anything gone wrong ? 
 Did not tho affair of last night go off success- 
 fully ?" 
 
 "In the name of God, Mr. Hargrave," ex- 
 claimed the youth, "whom did you trust to 
 fetch tho box ?" 
 
 "'Whom should I trust but my faithful old 
 Sambo, who never speaks unless he is spoken to, 
 and who has no more idea of idle gossiping than 
 a child of a twelvemonth old H But what has 
 hatipenecl ?" 
 
 " Sambo never came," res;ionded Gustavus; 
 " some one else came in his stead " 
 
 "'What! Sitmbo idle or treacherous!" ex- 
 chiimcd Mr. 'Hargrave. 
 
 "Ah! that remains to bo discovered," rc- 
 tnrneil Gustavus. " iiut he who came in his 
 steail was Nelson." 
 
 " Nelson ?" ejaculated the misanthrope in dis- 
 m.ay. " And you gave him the gold i" 
 . " Accursed gold ! " cried the youtli vohe- 
 mcntly : " it has produced nothing Vut per- 
 plexity, vexation, double dealing, and honor
 
 176 
 
 OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 tliroughout ! Accursed fjoW, I bay ! But who 
 could have hoped that a miser's gold would 
 bring anything to its possessor but trouble and 
 ill luck i" 
 
 "Ah! yon have not been to siea," said Mr. 
 Hargrave, in a tone that was slightly contemp- 
 tuous, '• without becoming imbued with the 
 superstition of sailors ! And now will you please 
 to explain to me everything that has hap- 
 pened r" 
 
 " Mount Pleasant has been watched by Mr. 
 Pinnock's people ever since the loss of the gold," 
 replied Gustavus ; " and of that fact I was 
 ignorant. In a word, Nelson is dead — the watch- 
 men f.hot him as a robber !" 
 
 "And serve him right !" said Mr. Hargrave ; 
 " for though I cannot understand how he took 
 Sambo's place, yet the motive wiis clear enough. 
 I suppose that there is now a tremendous 
 sensation at Mount Pleasant — eveiything is 
 
 " Nothing is known ! " rejoined Gustavus. 
 " When I parted from you yesterday 1 had 
 reason to believe that there had been an unseen 
 listener to our conversation in the road ; and 
 therefore when the tenible catastrophe hap- 
 pened last night, I at once comprehended that 
 this listener could have been none, other than 
 Nelson." 
 
 " Then it only remains for ns to question 
 Sambo," said Mr. Hargrave. " But when I 
 bethink me, the old man will be frightened by 
 your presence. Do you remain here — or walk 
 
 into my cottage— while I go to his hut that 
 
 is to say, if he is there, and if Nelson has not 
 murdered him." 
 
 Gustavus shuddered at the bare possibility of 
 the realization of the horrible idea ; and he 
 walked in the garden while Mr. Hargrave 
 sped to the little hut where Sambo dwelt. He 
 remained there for about ten minutes ; and 
 therefore Gustavus was relieved from his ap- 
 prehension that Sambo had been made away with. 
 
 At the expiration of that interval Mr. Har- 
 grave reappeared from his servant's hut ; and 
 young Bai-rington immediately hastened to accost 
 
 "That villain Nelson," said Mr. Hargrave, 
 " oveiTeached himself at last. I have got it all 
 out of poor Sambo. But first I must tell you 
 that after I left you yesterday, I went into King- 
 ston to give notice to the captaiu of a ship that 
 it was very probable a box containing mineral 
 specimens would be consigned to his charge this 
 morning. Then I retiu'ned to my cottage ; and 
 it was between nine and ten o'clock, just before i 
 I retired to rest, that I gave Sambo his instruc- 
 tions. But it now appears that as Sambo was ' 
 making his way towards Mount Pleasant be- j 
 tween eleven and twelve last night, he met 
 Nelson, who seemed to be coming towards him I 
 in a very great hurry. 'Ah!' said Nelson, 'it 
 is fortunate I have met you ; for I was just 
 running across to your hut to tell you that you I 
 are not to come to-night. Mr. Barringtou has '. 
 sent me with the message : there is a party at I 
 Mount Pleasant ; he will not be able to get 
 away from the drawing-room to do the busi- 
 ness ; and besides, all the servants will be 
 about.'— Sambo naturally bi-lieved the truth of ! 
 this message, delivered as it was by one who 
 evidently possessed sU intimate an acquaintance 
 with the transaction that was in hand. He 
 accordingly retraced his way to his hut, little 
 dreaming bow the villany of Nelson had prove<i 
 the means of saving his life : for if it had 
 been otherwise, and if Sambo had been suf- 
 fered to continue in the performance of the 
 
 duty entrusted to hii 
 edly perished by the 
 stretched Nelson a corpse beneath yc 
 
 he would have assur. 
 stol shots which 
 window." 
 Yes— it was heaven's own retribution against 
 the vilLinous Nelson!" said Gustavus. "And 
 now, Mr. Hargrave, will it be necessary at the 
 
 Coroner's inquest " 
 
 "For ns to give any information upon the 
 subject?" exclaimed the misanthrope. "Assur- 
 edly not unless indeed you have altered your 
 
 mind in respect to Emily, and you are no longer 
 desirous of shielding her from exposure in the 
 mat I* of the pui'luining of your gold ? For if 
 one thing comes out, everything must of course 
 becxpLained." 
 
 "Oh, my dear sir!" cried the youth, "I am 
 very far from having an inclination for any such 
 exposure !" 
 
 " Then say nothing upon the point," re- 
 joined the misanthrope. "We have no qualm 
 of conscience to appease : it is not our fault 
 that the vile negro met his death. He was 
 meditating a robbery — thai is only too evident 
 — and as you yourself ere now said, it wa.s 
 heaven's retribution. Mr. Pinnock ha<l a right 
 to have his grounds watched ; and the watchers 
 had a right to shoot any one whom they caught 
 stealthily lurking there for an improper pur- 
 pose. I may think myself very fortunate that 
 when I stole into the grounds the other night 
 to hunt after the box of buried gold, I did not 
 get my brains blown out by the watchmen. It 
 must have been a narrow escape for nie, you 
 sec, Gustavus — for I had not the remotest sus- 
 picion that the premises were being actually 
 
 watched. However, let that matter pass 
 
 and now to return to onr former topic. The 
 proceedings at the inquest will be but a for- 
 mality — an affair of but five minutes — and in 
 two or three days the matter will be no more 
 thought of." 
 
 Gustavus now took his leave of Mr. Har- 
 grave, and at once hastened back to Mount 
 Pleasant. 
 
 In the garden he met Emily, who was exceed- 
 ingly anxious and uneasy at not having found 
 him there as usual when she descended from her 
 own cham))er ; for she dreaded lest some com- 
 punctious feeling on his part, or else advice on 
 Mr. Hargrave's, should lead to a full revelation 
 of all the circumstances which had led to the 
 catastrophe. 
 
 The quadroon was therefore rejoiced when 
 on encountering him, she obseiTed that his fea- 
 tures were placid and unruffled ; and she was 
 still more completely relieved when he informed 
 her of the particxdars of his interview with Mr. 
 Hargrave. 
 
 In the course of the day an inquest was holden 
 upon the corpse of Nelson ; and as the misan- 
 thrope had predicted, it was a mere formality. 
 
 The two watchmen gave their evidence ; and 
 the juiy retm-ned a verdict in accordance there- 
 with. 
 
 Gustavus was well pleased that the affair had 
 passed off thus tranquilly : while the quadroon 
 was not only dehghted on that account, but also 
 because the very man who could tell an evil tale 
 concerning her — how he had seen her one night 
 at the casement of Barrington's room— existed 
 upon the earth no longer. 
 
 In respect to the box of gold, Gustavus ceased 
 to entertain a superstitious notion— which in- 
 deed was only momentary at the time — concern- I 
 ing it ; and he was resolved to adopt some prompt ! 
 measure, unattended likewise with danger, for its 1 
 tran.smission to England. Thereadywit of Emily 
 Pinnock now came to his assistance. She sug-
 
 AGNES; OE, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 gested that Le should purchase numopous heavy 
 articles, such fts jiirs of pickles and preserves, 
 under pretciic' of sendingf tbem as a present to 
 bifi friends in Eiiglaod. This course was adopted: 
 the box of i:«li was placed in the middle of a 
 much larger packing case, all the remaining 
 portion boing closely tilled up with bay ; and in 
 this fondition the case weighed no heavier than 
 if it had actually been filled with the demijohns of 
 pickles and the jars of preserves. It was duly 
 8'iipped, Mr. Piunock himself becoming the un- 
 C'lnseious agent of the rocnoval of the very bos of 
 gold the supposed loss of which he continued so 
 much to deplore. As for the jars which Gustavus 
 aad Emily had been careful in not puckiug in the 
 Case at all, they were stowed awav in a cupboard 
 in the quadroon's chamber, and of which she pos- 
 sessed the key. 
 
 A few more daifs elapsed— and the one fixed 
 ftr the bridal at length dawned, it was a bright 
 No. 23.~Aqn-s. 
 
 beautiful day, in the early part of If ovember ; autl 
 everything now seemed to smile auspiciously upon 
 the approaching *unian of the lovers. Gastavua 
 was indeed completely happy ; for he would not 
 now permit even a sinijle tliought relative to 
 Winifred to mar his felicity. He had sent her 
 his treasure, and ho thought he had done enough 
 by enriching her. Need we say that Ernily expe- 
 rienced a degree of happiness which could not be 
 excelled by the feelinsj of any other heart? And 
 eminently beautiful did she appear, when in her 
 bridal raiment she entered the drawing-room 
 where Gustavus, who was himself handsomely 
 dressed, hastened forward to receive her. Mr, 
 Pinnock was likewise there — as were also the two 
 bride's-maids. These were the daughters of a 
 neighbouring planter, named Adair, and of cuu- 
 siderablo wealth. Two or three other guests were 
 expected to arrive in order to bo present at the 
 holy ceremony; and afterwards the number was
 
 wedding breakfast. Tbere nas to be no departure 
 eteenliere for tbft booejmooD, — this custom being 
 but littb practiaeJ amongst tho dwellers in that 
 hot climate wbero travelliDg was avoided as much 
 as possible. 
 
 We have alreadj said thaS Emily Pinnock 
 looked very beautiful; and we may now observe 
 tbat lier natural charms were enhanced by the ex- 
 quistte taste of ber becomhig toilet. Her cuunte- 
 nance was animated with happiness— the rich car- 
 nation mantled beneath ber transparent brunette 
 skiu— and her eyes, so large and handsome, shone 
 with a kindred lustre. The young bridegroom 
 seemed in every way well worthy of that beautiful 
 bride. He was dressed handsomely and elegantly, 
 the costume setting off bis slender well-shaped 
 H^ure to the utmost advantage. His countenance 
 likewise beamed with pleasure and delight; and 
 he gnzcd with mingled pride and fondness upon 
 the beautiful quadroon as she clung lovingly to 
 bis arm. 
 
 There were yet, as we have said, other guests to 
 be awaited ; and there was still more than half- 
 an-hour to intervene before the carriages would 
 arrive to take the bridal party into Kingston, 
 where the holy ceremony was to be performed. 
 Indeed, it was now only a little past tea o'clock 
 in the forenoon : but the bride as well as the 
 bridesmaids had their bonnets on and were in per- 
 fect readiness to set out when the proper 
 
 " I hope the Miss Thurlows and their father 
 will not keep us waiting," said ilr. Pinnock, 
 looking at bis watch. "There is however little 
 fear of that; for my friend Thurlow is always 
 punctual in bis appointments as well as with his 
 
 *• And r saw Jane Thurlow last evening," said 
 the elder Miss Adair ; " and she assured me that 
 her father, herself, and ber sister would be here by 
 half past ten at the latest." 
 
 " And Mr. Adair ?" inquired Mr. Pinnock : 
 " he left jou to come alone— eh ?" 
 
 " I have already told you, Mr. Pinnrck," re- 
 sponded Miss Adair, " that be was compelled to 
 drive into Kingston after setting us down at 
 Mount Pleasant ; for you know that a mail- 
 steamer leaves for England at noon; and my 
 lather " 
 
 " Oh, to be sure !" ejaculated Mr. Pinnock ; 
 "'business must be attended to; and your father 
 would not be the rich man that he is if be bad 
 ever neglected his eiTairs. But you said that he 
 would be here presently ?" 
 
 " He had merely some inetruetiona to give to 
 bis head clerk," replied Miss Adair; "and 1 know 
 that havinij done this ho will at onco drive hither 
 without delay." 
 
 "Here be com. s !" ejaculated Mr. Pinnock, 
 who from the drawing-room c<>sement had just 
 caught sight of Mr. Adair's carriage approaching 
 up the avenue. 
 
 la a few minutes Mr. Adair had joined the 
 bridal parly. He warmly greeted Gustavus, to 
 whom be had taken a liking although their ac- 
 i|uaintance was so brief; and he addressed Emily 
 with a kind of friendly familiaritv, for he had 
 known her from her childhood. He then turned 
 to converse with Mr. Pinnock, while the two Miss 
 
 ;, DKAUXr AXD PIEASURB. 
 
 npany for the Adairs joined Gustavus and Emily at the farther 
 extremity of the apartment. 
 
 " No particular news from England by the mail 
 that came in yesterday," said Mr. Adair. " Every- 
 thing is quiet there— though on the Continent of 
 Europe things continue to be very much un- 
 settled:" — for my readers will bear in mind that 
 these scenes which we are relaiiu;; occurred at 
 
 " I had so many letters by yesterday's mail," 
 said Mr. Pinnock, " that I really had not time to 
 look over the newspapers, beyond glancing at the 
 Markets and the Money Ariiclos: anil then I for- 
 got to bring the newspapers home with me from 
 my office last evening. Not however that I sup- 
 pose I should have read much of them; fur what 
 with the preparations for to day's ceremony " 
 
 " To be sure ! to be sure !" cjnculated Mr. 
 Adair ; " your time has been thoroughly occupied. 
 Nor on my part did I find much leisure to look 
 over what may be termed the English domestic 
 
 news though, by the bye, I recollect reading 
 
 something about a murder which has been com- 
 mitted in London and which appears to have pro- 
 duced a very great sensation." 
 
 "Indeed?" said Mr. Pinnock. "But for my 
 part I seldom take the trouble to read such narra- 
 
 " Nor I as a rule," rejoined Mr. Adair. " In- 
 deed, if you were to ask me to give you an accu- 
 rate sketch of this particular case to which I am 
 alluding, I do not think that I could perform the 
 
 task. However, it seems that a youog girl 1 
 
 forget her name was arrested upwards of a 
 
 month back on a charge of murdering some ol.l 
 lady of no very excellent character. It took 
 place in the neighbourhood of St. John's 
 Wood " 
 
 " Only listen to papa !" said the el lest Misii 
 Adair, in a subdued tone to her sister, Gustavus, 
 and Emily : " how can he think of talking of such 
 horrible things on an occasion when nothing but 
 the most cheerful topics ought to enter into the 
 discourse !" 
 
 " Ob, leave them to themselves, my dear sister !" 
 said the younger Miss Adair. " When they have 
 finished their present subject, they will talk of th« 
 prices of sugar, and ginger, and so forth, until the 
 carriages arrive." 
 
 " And what is the name of this young mur* 
 deress of whom you are speaking?" asked Mr. 
 Pinnock, in a careless conversational way, as he re- 
 mained at the other extremity of the room with 
 his friend Mr. Adair. 
 
 " Well, I really forget," replied the latter 
 gentleman. " I have the worst head iu the 
 world for remembering names — unless they are 
 connected with business," he added with a smile i 
 •' and yet I recollect, when glancing over the Lou- 
 don newspapers last night, tbere was something 
 iu the girl's name which struck i^e «ith the force 
 of a loincidence ; but I can't for the life of me 
 now call to mind what it was. However, it is of 
 no consequence— though, as I just now said, the 
 crime seems to have created great excitement ia 
 the British metropolis. The accused young lemale 
 appears to be very interesting and preposseM- 
 
 ing- 
 
 'Of course!" ejaculated Mr. Pinnock: 
 
 'all
 
 iONES; OK, EEADIT ASP PLEASURE. 
 
 179 
 
 yoDDg ladies who commit a crime are sura to be 
 de»cribed as interesting. It is just the same with 
 our own Jamaica newspapers as with the English 
 ones. The public everywhere have a morbid taste 
 in these matters; and the press panders to it. 
 Perhaps," added Sir. PinnocK, with a smile, " the 
 old lady whom the girl murdered, was likewise a 
 Tery interesting person?'* 
 
 "No, no— 1 didn't tell you that!" ejaculated 
 Mr. Adair, laughing. " On the contrary, if I re- 
 cotloct aright, she is represented as bein» a woman 
 of bad character ; and this renders the alTair all 
 the more mysterious— because, according to what 
 1 read, it seems unaccountable that a girl who had 
 previously borne such an irreproachable character 
 ae the accused, could have had any connexion with 
 the old wretch who has been assassinated." 
 
 " Do for heaven's sake, my dear papa," ex- 
 claimed the elder Miss Adair, "discourse upon 
 something else!— for we cannot help overhearing 
 ^vhat you say, and it is p ;rfectly horrible to broach 
 snch topics on such an occasion as the present !" 
 
 " 1 have got no more i\-i say upon the subject, 
 ray dear," responded Mr. .Vdair, smiling. " Ah I 
 liere are the Thurlon s !" 
 
 Mr. Pinnock hastened fro.^i the apartment to 
 welcome the new-comers, who wern opeedily in- 
 troduced to the drawing-room. These were Mr. 
 Thurtow and bis two daughters ; and the usual 
 I greetings were exchanged. The two Miss Thur- 
 lows ascended to Emily's bed-chamber to uiako 
 some little amendment to the toilet which had 
 been rumpled in the carriage that had brought 
 them ; and Mr- Pinnock, with true West Indian 
 hospitality, proposed to Mr. Adair and to Mr. 
 Tburlow to take some little refreshment previous 
 to setting off into Kingston. Fur this purpose 
 those three gentlemen adjourned to the breakfast- 
 parlour where the refreshments were spread ; so 
 that the bride and bridegroom now remained alone 
 with the two Miss Adairs. 
 
 " If I had chosen," said the younger Miss 
 Adair, " I could have refreshed my papa's me- 
 mory with regard to the recent topic of his dis- 
 course : for 1 glanced over the London Times last 
 evening, and I read some particulars concerning 
 the crime. In the 6rst place I recollect the date: 
 it was the fifth of October." 
 
 "The fifth of October?" ejaculated Gustavus, 
 with a sudden start. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" inquired Emily, who 
 perceived his emotion, 
 
 " Oh, nothing ! nothing !" he hastily responded, 
 as he instantaneously recovered himself. 
 
 " Now I insist," said the elder Miss Adair, 
 " that we do not take up a topic which I just now 
 en much deprecated when my father and Mr. 
 Pinnock were discoursing on it." 
 
 "No —certainly not 1" said Emily : " it is pain. 
 ful and horrible !" 
 
 "Tea— painful and horrible," repealed Gus- 
 tavus, scarcely however knowing what he said : 
 
 min.t mis sirangely agiiatcd, 
 
 Tlw fifth of October was a date which he 
 bau tor some lime ceased to recollect with 
 HDv degree of siguiticancy : but now it had been 
 Buddenly recalled to his memory. His thoughts 
 w<>re refiected back to that day when on board the 
 Catharine Millard he found himself haunted by 
 
 some vague presentiment which bo could not 
 shake off, and which indeed had grown upon him 
 with such a superstitious power at the time that 
 he had said to himself, " The fifth of October ! I 
 shall not forget it !" 
 
 And now, as this date was so vividly brought 
 back to his memory, a cloud of other ideas and 
 associations came sweeping in unto his mind. I£o 
 recollected how, when on board tlio Catharine 
 Millard, and under the inttuence of that evil pre- 
 sentiment, he had been smitten with vague appre- 
 hensions lest anything should be occurring at that 
 particular moment to his relatives ia England. 
 Ho felt that he had then cared for those relatives 
 far more than he had recently done ; and he was 
 smitten with a feeling of remorse at the idea of 
 having now for ever cut himself off, as it were, 
 from those whom but a month back he would not 
 for the world have thought of abandoning. No 
 wonder, therefore, was it that at this moment his 
 conduct towards Winifred should suddenly assume 
 the aspect of a perfidy, and that though he had 
 never actually breathed in his cousin's ears the 
 language of love, yet that he was proving faithless 
 to that species of tacit understanding of constancy 
 and fidelity which had existed between them at 
 the time when he left England. Thus, altogether, 
 a sudden damp was thrown upon the young 
 bridegroom's spirits; and he felt as if he were 
 standing upon the threshold of the perpetration of 
 a crime. 
 
 Av this juncture Mr. Pinnock returned to the 
 drawing-room ; and as he filing a package of newa- 
 popers upon the table, he exclaimed, " Come ! we 
 must be upon the alert ! The carriages will be 
 here in a few minutes !" 
 
 " What have you got there ?" inquired Gus- 
 tavus, starting up from bis seat and saying the 
 first thing that came into his head in the hope of 
 turning his ideas into some new channel. 
 
 "Oh! it is nothing but a packet of London 
 newspapers which Mr. Thurlow has just given 
 me," responded Mr. Pinnock. 
 
 "Ah, London newspapers!" ejaculated Gus- 
 tavus, who felt himself irresistibly impelled by 
 his gloomy presentiments to glance at those jour- 
 nals. 
 
 Be it borne in mind that it was the younger 
 Miss Adair who had happened to mention that 
 she glanced over the newspapers on the preceding 
 evening; and it was she who had mentioned that 
 daie of the Hfth of October which suddenly pro- 
 duced such an eU'ect upon the bridegroom. She 
 noticed that there was something strange— her 
 recollection was quickened — she was suddenly 
 struck by that very coincidence to* which her 
 father himself had ore now vaguely alluded while 
 talking to Mr. Pinnock; and she hastily whis- 
 pered to Emily, " It is stranje-most strange! — 
 but the name of the young English murderess is 
 also Barrington Winifred Birrington!" 
 
 A deadly pallor instantaneously overspread 
 Emily's countenance, — a pallor the ghastlinesa 
 of which might bo seen throujih her brunette 
 complexion; and Mr. Adair's two daughters were 
 now seized with a wild affright. At the same 
 time a terrific cry burst forth from the lips oi 
 Gustavus, who had just opened the packet of 
 newspapers and had glanced rapidly over the first 
 which came to hand. There his eyes at once set.
 
 180 
 
 3; OK, BBAUTY AND PLEASUKB. 
 
 tied upon the words " Mtstekious Mvkdee at 
 St. John's Wood :" and glancing down tbe 
 column, be beheld the name of Winifred Bar- 
 rlngton .' 
 
 All was DOW confusion, consternation, and dis- 
 may in that drawing-room. Gustavus had sunk 
 in horror upon a chair, the newspaper dropping 
 from his hand ; while Emilj, springing towards 
 him, threw her arms about his neck, exclaiming 
 wildly, "No, no! it is impossible! — it must be 
 some fearful mistake !" 
 
 " Good heavens, Gustavus ! what is the matter, 
 my dear boy f" cried Mr. Pinnock, who under- 
 stood nothing of the cause of this strange and 
 alarming scene. 
 
 As for the two bridesmaids, they were likewise 
 seized with consternation, which was blended with 
 horror, because they did suspect something of the 
 actual truth. 
 
 " She is innocent ! she is innocent !" exclaimed 
 Gustavus wildly : and in his fearful excitement he 
 pushed Emily away from him. " What ! Wini- 
 fred a murderess? No— impossible ! But it is 
 for me to make her innocence apparent !'* 
 
 With these words, uttered in accents of the 
 most thrilling excitement, Gustavus sprang from 
 his seat, and he rushed from the room. Cries 
 burst from the lips of the bride and the brides- 
 maids, while Mr. Pinnock bounded after the fugi- 
 tive bridegroom. Upon the landing Gustavus 
 met the two Miss Thurlows, who were just de- 
 Bcending from the chamber where they had been 
 amending their toilet ; and he dashed madly past 
 them. On the stairs he encountered Mr. Adair 
 and Mr. Thurlow, who were ascending from the 
 refreshment-room: — and past them he likewise 
 in frenzy sped. Snatching up his hat in the hall, 
 he darted forth from the house. 
 
 Mr. Pinnock's phaeton was at the door : Gus- 
 tavus sprang into it — seized tbe reins — and urged 
 the horses away at their fleetest pace ; so that the 
 domestic who was standing close by their heads, 
 had only just time to step aside to save himself 
 from being run over. Towards Kingston drove 
 the half-frenzied youth. The image of Winifred 
 
 uppermost 
 
 
 of i 
 
 angel of innocence "unjustly accused ; while the 
 image of Emily Pinnock was like that of a tempt- 
 ress who had seduced him away from his duty 
 towards the other. For such was the morbid, 
 almost maddened state of his mind, that he was 
 utterly unable to deliberate rationally ; and he 
 was labouring under the poignant, anguished im- 
 pression that everything which had occurred to 
 Winifred might have been avoided but for his per- 
 tidy towards her. 
 
 In this wildly excited frame of mind Gustavus 
 'eacbed the harbour and sprang from the vehicle. 
 The mail-steamer was at that moment about to 
 start ; and in a few seconds he was on board. His 
 agitated appearance — the strange precipitation 
 with which be had sprung upon the deck of the 
 vessel— together with his full-dress costume as a 
 bridegroom, naturally excited a lively sensation on 
 the part of the spectators on the quay and the 
 passengers on board. The captain of the steam- 
 packet hastened to accost the youth and to de- 
 mand an explanation : but Gustavus, tossing his 
 purse towards him, bade him take the passage- 
 money. The captain had nothing more to say : 
 
 the youth could pay his fare— no officer of justice 
 appeared to oppose his departure from tbe island 
 — and he had consequently a right to be on board 
 that vessel. The ropes were on the very point of 
 being cast loose, when a person was seen making 
 his way quickly through the crowd of spectators ; 
 and he reached the steam. packet's side. Hp sprang 
 on board, and in a few moments accosted Gustavus 
 Barrington. All who beheld the proceeding, fan- 
 cied that there was about to be a scene of some 
 kind or another : but they were disappointed. 
 Nothing more than a brief rapid colloquy took 
 place ; and this may bo described in a few words. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Hargrave ! is it you ?" ejaculated 
 Gustavus, as that singular individual accosted 
 
 *' And you are going to England ?" said the 
 misanthrope ; " and I can understand why :— for 
 alas, poor young man ! I have just been reading 
 tbe English newspapers " 
 
 " Oh! is it not dreadful?" exclaimed Gustavus: 
 " and I who was beguiled to remain so long in tbe 
 
 " Give this letter to your grandfather," said 
 Mr. Hargrave. " I had prepared it expressly to 
 send by this packet : but little did I think that 
 you yourself would become the bearer of it. Fare- 
 well— and may God bless you !" 
 
 Mr. Hargrave wrung the youth's band ; and 
 then hastening away, leapt out of the vessel— 
 which he had only just time to do, for the ropes 
 were now cast loose and the huge paddle-wheels 
 were turning. The stately steamer began to move 
 out of the harbour ; and now a carriage arrived 
 amidst the spectators on the shore. That carriage 
 belonged to Mr. Thurlow, who was himself in it, 
 as well as Mr. Pinnock. The latter was very 
 much excited ; and when he found that the steamer 
 had already taken its departure, be exclaimed, " By 
 heaven, we are too late ! How can 1 carry back 
 this intelligence to poor Emily, who ia already well- 
 nigh heart-broken !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 AFTEE THE TEIAL. 
 
 TnB scene once more shifts to England ; and we 
 return to the Old Bailey, where we left Winifred 
 Barrington at the moment when the emphatic 
 verdict of ]fot G-uilty had been delivered by the 
 foreman of the jury. Winifred fainted; and she 
 was at once borne from the dock. The Judge, 
 without passing a single comment upon the ver- 
 dict which had been returned, ordered that tbe 
 young girl's discharge from custody should imme- 
 diately take place; and he was then about to quit 
 the bench, when Mr. Wardour made au appticatioa 
 that the ring which had figured as so important 
 an item in the evidence, might be given up to 
 Wmifred. The Judge at once complied with bis 
 demand; and he then retired. One of the jury, 
 men instantaneously availed himself of the termi- 
 nation of the proceedings to glide out of the box ; 
 and be quickly disappeared. This was the one 
 who had held out and who had succeeded in the 
 long run in bringing all the others round to bii 
 own opinion. But the eleven other jurymen Itn*
 
 AQHES; OB, B£A.UT£ AND FIBASUBE. 
 
 rcred for a few minutes, and looked at one another 
 as if inquiring whether aftei all they had done 
 their duty ? Indeed, they seemed to be like men 
 awakening from a hallucinating epell which had 
 been cast upon them. 
 
 " AYho is this Dalham ?" at length one of them 
 asked of his companions. 
 
 " I do not know : but I of course thought that 
 he must be well known to some of us," was the 
 reply given by another. 
 
 Attain they looked at each other ; and then 
 there was a general confession that each and ail 
 were entirely unacquainted with Mr. Dalham, and 
 had never to their knowledge seen him before that 
 day. 
 
 " You know," said the foreman, " that it was 
 mentioned two or three times in the course of the 
 trial— and indeed the public prints had before 
 stated— that the girl is the grand-daughter of the 
 old man who is plaintiff in the Chtacery suit of 
 * BarringtoQ versus Dalham.' But that is Sir 
 John Dalham the Baronet " 
 
 " And he has a son," observed another jury- 
 man. " But surely " 
 
 ** Well, it would indeed be odd," said another, 
 " if this very Dalham who has been our colleague 
 and who brought us round to the verdict we have 
 delivered, should either be Sir John's son or any 
 other relation. I remember being struck by the 
 coincidence that a person bearing the name of 
 Dalham should be in the jury-box : but then I 
 thought that the name was by no means an un- 
 common one." 
 
 " But how was he qualified to be on the jury at 
 all ?" asked the foreman, whose countenance in- 
 dicated a growing confusion and mystification the 
 more the matter was discussed, and who also 
 looked as if he fancied that they were now putting 
 amongst themselves those questions which ought 
 to have been asked before. 
 
 ' I remember very well," said one of the jury- 
 men, " that about three weeks or a month back a 
 small bookselling business in Paternoster Row 
 changed hands, and the name of Dalham displaced 
 that of Simpson over the door. This is doubtless 
 the Dalham who has been acting with us to-day ; 
 and if so, he was qualified to sit as a juryman. 
 At all events the thing is done — whether by some 
 trick or other it is too late for us to inquire : and 
 perhaps for our own sakes the less we say upon 
 the subject the better. For my part I am famish- 
 ing, and shall get home to supper without further 
 delay." 
 
 The other jurors seemed to think this was the 
 best course to be adopted ; and they accordingly 
 separated. « 
 
 In the meanwhile Mr. Dalham— the particular 
 juryman whose name had just formed the topic of 
 discussiflQ — was hastily wending his way up Lud 
 gate Hill. He speedily reached Paternoster 
 Eow; and on arriving in that narrow thorough- 
 fare, he turned into a bookseller's shop over the 
 door of which his own name was conspicuously 
 painted. It was the only shop the door of which 
 was open in the street at that late hour in the 
 evening: but the shutters had been put up. Pass- 
 ing through the shop, Mr. Dalham entered the 
 counting-house at the hack ; and there his pre- 
 sence awakened an elderly man who was taking a 
 I nap in an easy chair by the fireside. 
 
 " Well, sir, have you succeeded ?" inquired this ' 
 individual, as he bowed respectfully to Mr. Dal- : 
 
 " I have," was the reply ; " I have vindicated 
 the cause of innocence unjustly accused. And 
 now, Mr. Simpson, you may have your own name 
 painted over the shop front again to-morrow 
 ing ; and I will give you the reward which I 
 promised for your generous complicity in this 
 
 Thus speaking, Mr. Dalham drew forth his 
 pocket-book; and thence he took a number of 
 bank-notes, which he placed upon the desk. 
 
 I have been a bookseller for three weeks," ; 
 said Mr. Dalham, with a smile; "and now I re- 
 tire from business. Your customers, Mr. Simp- 
 \ill no doubt think it strange that you re- 
 to the establishment again after having osten- 
 sibly abandoned it for that short period: but you 
 11 know how to keep your own counsel." 
 '^ Trust to me, sir," replied the old bookseller, 
 as he took up the bank-notes which Mr. Dalham 
 had placed upon the desk. "I am glad to have 
 been enabled to render you this assistance." 
 
 Mr. Dalham then took his departure; and on 
 the following day his name was erased from the 
 shop front. 
 
 While this little scene was taking place, a cab 
 was conveying Winifred away from the Old Bailey. 
 She was not alone: she was sustained in the arms 
 of her kind friend Mrs. Slater, who could scarcely I 
 restrain within reasonable bounds the joy she ex- 
 perienced at the young girl's acquittal. Winifred ' 
 — having been with some difiiculty recovered from 
 the state of unconsciousness in which she was 
 borne from the dock— was still almost over- 
 powered by her emotions : she felt as if she ha I 
 been awakened from a long and hideous dream, 
 the crushing influence of which still lingered 
 upon her soul : she could scarcely believe that it 
 was a reality— that she was indeed free— that 
 she was no longer within the horrible walls of 
 Newgate — and that she was seated in that 
 vehicle at liberty to proceed whithersoever she 
 thought fit. Need we inform the reader that 
 the cab was ordered to drive in the first instance 
 to Whitecross Street Prison, that the joyous Intel- I 
 ligence of Winifred's acquittal might be without j 
 delay communicated to her old grandfather ? Such | 
 was the case; and on reaching the prison, itrs. | 
 Slater alighted to speak to one of the servants of i 
 the Governor ; for the gates had long been closed i 
 and the turnkeys had taken their departure. The 
 Governor's servant faithfully promised that an im- 
 mediate communication should be made to old 
 Mr. Barrington: but Winifred could not obtain 
 permission to see him at that late hour. Indeed, 
 she had not entertained the hope ; for she full well i 
 knew the regulations of the establishment. It ; 
 was however sufficient for her that her grandfather ' 
 should be at once put out of all suspense in refer- 
 ence to the result of the trial; and as the cab { 
 rolled away from the door of the prison, it was i 
 with an indescribable luxury of feeling that she i 
 said to herself, " By this time he knows that I aoi 
 free— and he is happy !" 
 
 Mrs. Slater's house was soon reached ; and 
 Wmifred was once more in her own lodging. 
 
 An affecting scene was it on the following morn- 
 ing when the young girl and her old grandfather i
 
 AGITKS; OE, BBADTT . 
 
 PLEASDEE. 
 
 met. This interview took place in a room ad- 
 joining the entrance-lobby of the prison ; for 
 Winifred did not lilie to penetrate at once into 
 the gaol, where she knew that she should be an 
 object of marked curiosity. Therefore to the room 
 ndjoining the lobby was the old man summoned 
 from the inBrmary; and there the grandfather and 
 grand'iaughter were folded in each other's arms. 
 Both wept copiously. There was a childishness in 
 the old man's weeping, m his broken speech, and 
 in his- entire manner ; and Wmifred subbed so 
 convulsively that it seemed as if her heart were 
 about to burst with a sense of calamity rather 
 than as if it were throbbing with joy at being re- 
 stored to tbe arms of the old man whom she loved 
 so tenderly. 
 
 " I knew all along how it would end, my dear 
 girl," said the old man, in a whimpering tone : " I 
 knew that you were innocent, and that they would 
 not dare condemn you. But tell me all about it, 
 my sweet Winnie." 
 
 " Another time, my deir grandfather," she 
 hastily replied : " let us now speak of yourself. 
 You have been very ill — but you have wanted for 
 nothing. Mrs. Slater has assured me that this 
 was the case; and she told me truly— did she 
 
 "Tes, yes, "Winnie— I had everything I desired : 
 but that was of no consequence, for I could not be 
 happy as long as I knew that you were in that 
 dreadful place. Ah, my dear Winnie ! I have met 
 with a great deal of sympathy. Mrs. Slater has 
 been very kind to me, and has brought me all 
 kinds of nice things. And that young lady too 
 
 whom you worked for " 
 
 " Miss Evelyn," said Winifred. " Yes— Mrs. 
 Slater told me that Miss Evelyn had sent you 
 
 ■everal little presents " 
 
 "And then, regularly every Saturday evening," 
 continued tbe old man, "two guineas were for- 
 warded to me, enclosed in an envelope, and evi- 
 dentlv directed in a feigned hand. I can't think 
 
 from whom the money came " 
 
 " It was some kind friend, dear grandfather, 
 who chose to remain unknown," said Winifred, 
 slight flush passing across her countenance ; for she 
 doubtless knew, or at least suspected who was the 
 author of that anonymously bestowed bounty 
 " And now tell me," she continued, anxious tc 
 keep her grandfather's attention diverted from the 
 circumstances of her trial and acquittal, — '* tell 
 me how gets on the lawsuit ? Do you still em- 
 ploy Mr. Timperley ?' 
 
 "Yes — ob, yes," responded tld Barringtoni 
 " for Timperley has never seemed so sanguine ol 
 success as during the last month. Still I think 
 that he might have drawn the affiiavits stronger 
 — and there were several points which I had 
 make him amend : but I think, after all, he i: 
 very worthy man— he expressed so much sympathy 
 on your account, and said how sorry he was the 
 case had been taken out of his hands. By the bye, 
 Winifred, how did that happen ? I never could 
 rightly understand it : — and who was it that in- 
 structed Mr. Wardour to appear for you ?" 
 
 *• If.>w pray do roe a favour, my dear grand- 
 father," said Winnie ; " and do not let ua talk oi 
 think any m- re of tbe dreadful past: let us rejoice 
 ia the preseiit, and hope for the future. 1 am 
 again in my old lodging at worthy Mrs. Slater's — 
 
 1 sure I shall not want for friends— I shall ob- 
 
 as much work as 1 can possibly accomplish — 
 
 that dear kind Miss Evelyn will be certain to as- 
 
 t me— and everything will therefore go on just 
 
 e same as before those terrible things happened 
 
 to me I shall come and see you every day ; and 
 
 1 the Sunday I shall pass the entire afternoon 
 
 ilh you— and you must endeavour to make your- 
 
 self happy, and not say another word about the 
 
 misf'Ttunes that I have gone through." 
 
 Tell, well, Winnie," said the old man, " I wiU 
 do everything you tell me. It really seemed as if 
 heaven itself had deserted us all at one time : for 
 
 poor Gustavus was shipwrecked " 
 
 Oh, how I wept when 1 read his letter !" said 
 Winifred, the tears now again gushing from her 
 " But what a strange coincidence ! Almost 
 at the very time that I was arrested on that ter- 
 rible accusatien, was poor Gus enduring all the 
 h'jrWs of shipwreck: The 5th of October tor me ! 
 — the 6th of October for him 1" 
 
 3ut he has fallen in with a kind friend," in- 
 terjected the old man : " that Mr. Pinnock of whom 
 he writes, seems to have been as good as a father 
 to him." 
 
 "Poor Gustavus!" murmured Winifred: and 
 then she added in a blither tone, "We shall doubt- 
 less see him shortly; and then what happiness and 
 joy for us all! Oh, I shudder — I feel horrified at 
 
 the thought that he will read of all this Yes, 
 
 by this time he must know it — and therefore his 
 
 own feelings But, ah ! 1 was wrong to revert 
 
 to painful topics after I had so earnestly entreated 
 that you yourself would abstain from them !" 
 
 "YeSj yes, my dear child— we must endeavour 
 to be happy," said the old man; " and we will not 
 talk of the past. God is good to us after all. Tbe 
 life of our dear Gus was saved — your innocence 
 is proved— and this Term will very likely see the 
 successful issue of our tedious lawsuit." 
 
 The conversation between the old man and 
 Winifred was long ; but the greater portion of 
 it was interesting only to themselves. Mr. B»r- 
 rington expressed his intention of leaving the in- 
 firmary and descending to his ward, so that he 
 might again be amongst his old companions— 
 though he proclaimed his conviction that it would 
 be for no very lengthened period that he should 
 now have to remain in prison, inasmuch as the 
 present Term could not possibly fail to see the 
 issue of his lawsuit. 
 
 When Winifred took her departure, she hae- 
 tened to obtain a copy of the rimes, which was 
 tbe newspaper that her grandfather habitually 
 read ; and she returned to her lodgings to 
 peruse the account of her trial. She was re- 
 joiced on finding that the name of Dilham was 
 not mentioned as that of one of the jurymen ; 
 and indeed nothing was said to lead to the sup- 
 position that there had been any special mo- 
 tive at work to influence the jury in their final 
 decision. 
 
 Winifred had scarcely terminated the perusal 
 of the report, when the servant of the lodging- 
 bouse entered her room to announce that a 
 gentleman desired an interview with Miss Bar- 
 rington. Winirred conjectured who the gentle- 
 man was; and she lost no time in descending 
 to Mrs. Slater's parlour, to which the visitor bad 
 been shown, — the worthy landlady herself not
 
 OE, BEAUTY ASD PLEA3UEB. 
 
 183 
 
 being at home at the cime. ^Vinnie was ri<;bt in 
 her supposition— it waa Mr. Dalham who was 
 awaiting her presence ; and we may here at once 
 obserre that he was the per8ona;;e whom she had 
 met near the neighhourhood of Siilney Villa and 
 whom she had followed into the bye*lane, upon 
 the memorahle day of Mrs. ChickUde's murder. 
 TVe then described him as a man of about forty 
 years of ai^e — of moderate stature— of slim Bgure 
 — and tolerably good lucking countenance. His 
 hair and whiskers were dark; his prolile was 
 aquiline ; bis eyes were large and pierciu^. Tlie 
 ciprcssioD of his countenance indicated strong 
 passions, which, as we hare previously said, might 
 be moved either for good or for etil, but n 
 would go to the extreuje according to whulst 
 impulse they obeyed. 
 
 " Winifred," he said, as the young girl made 
 her appearance, '* most heartily do I congratulate 
 you on the result of yesterday's proceedings 
 and taking her hand he pressed it fervently. 
 
 "But it was to you, ilr. Dalham," she ret)iied, 
 with the accents of strong emotion, " that I 
 indebted for this result. Oh ! how generous and 
 how good has been your conduct towards 
 Yes, and to my grandfather likewise I — for I 
 learnt from his lipa sufficient to convince me that 
 every week you have been the anonymous source 
 
 of bounty towards him. " 
 
 " But ho suspects it not P" said Eodorick Dal- 
 ham hastily. 
 
 " Heaven forbid !" ejaculated Winifred with 
 vehemence. " Ob, I trembled ere I read the ac- 
 count in the newspaper " 
 
 " My name, you perceive, was not mentioned," 
 interjected Mr. Dalham. " The accounts in all 
 the morning journals are precisely the same." 
 
 "Oh, if your father knew how you have be- 
 friended me," cried Winifred, clasping her hands, 
 " the consequences would be terrible! He would 
 discard you— he would disown you ! Ob, Mr. 
 Dalham, how immense is the debt of gratitude 
 which I owe you !" 
 
 " Speak not of that, Winifred," responded 
 Eoderick Dalham. " It is impossible to help 
 admiring your virtues and the magnanimity of 
 your character. But let me solicit a few explana- 
 tions from your lips— although 1 have little diffi- 
 culty in conjecturing the reasons that induced you 
 to suppress all those circumstances which might 
 have told so well in your defence." 
 
 "Has not Mr. Wardour explained to you every- 
 thing ?" inquired Winifred. " On the day when 
 the examination before the magistrate took place, 
 I revealed all the circumstances to that gentlemon." 
 " But it was under a promise of implicit secrecy 
 on his part," rejoined Dalham ; " and therefore he 
 would repeat nothing— no, not even to me ! I did 
 not press him; and indeed I knew not whether 
 there might be any secret which you would wish 
 
 to keep from mv knowledge " 
 
 " Hu, no, Mr. Dalham ! I am incapable of 
 aueh ingratitude !" exclaimed Winifred ; " for to 
 you would I tell everything, even in preference to 
 Mr. Wardour himself !" 
 
 ■- That mystery relative to the ring," said Dal- 
 ham, — " I cannot completely fathom it : and yet 
 Bethinks 1 can comprehend how it must have 
 
 fallen into the vile woman's hands " 
 
 ** 'Xhat ring belonged to my mother," answered 
 
 Winifred. " You know under what circumstance* 
 you and I first ipet," she continued, a deep blush 
 overspreading her countenance. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Dalham, speaking hastily, for 
 he was perfectly aware how painful the subject 
 luust be to the young girl. " But about the 
 ring " 
 
 " I will tell you," s'ue responded. " That vile 
 woman Mrs. Chickla. e came one Sunday afternoon 
 to Whitecross Street Prison to see some man who 
 was there. This wos about two years ago ; and 
 she then beheld me for the first time. She after- 
 wards stopped me in the street and began to ad- 
 dress me in a strain which I could not at first 
 understand, bat of which a dim comprehension 
 began at length to arise in my mind. She told 
 me how I might earn much gold and lead a life of 
 pleasure and of indolence : but I need not tell 
 you, Mr. Dalham, what the wretch said— for you 
 can well understand the tenour of that insidious 
 discourse which such a woman was likely to hold 
 unto me. It was at the time when I was eo truly 
 wretched : it was just after my aunt's death, when 
 my cousin Gustavus had gone to sea, and when I 
 was thrown utterly on my own resjuices. I was 
 driven almost to madness; for in imagination I 
 beheld my poor grandfather storving — and Oh! 
 the bare idea thereof cut me to the very quick! 
 Yet when that old woman addressed me in the in- 
 sidious language of temptation, I recoiled from it 
 in horror the moment I began to comprehend it. 
 She waylaid mo several times ; and on each occa- 
 
 which she used. The state of my mind was grow- 
 ing day by day more desperate, and I listened to 
 her in spite of all the loathing and repugnance 
 that I entertained. At last, one day, I found the 
 slender stock of money left me by my poor aunt 
 utterly exhausted; and I dared not lell my grand- 
 father how I was situated. Ho thought I had 
 money still left ; and he desired me to bring him 
 different things— little comforts that he needed; 
 so that it was with a reeling brain I listened to 
 his words. I had no money and no work ; and I 
 had already made away with as much of my ap- 
 parel as I could possibly dispense with. But I 
 had ray mother's ring still left. I had to decide 
 whether I would part with it, or whether I should 
 keep it and see my grandfather die of starvation. 
 I decided upon the former course: I would dis- 
 pose of the ring. I took it to a pawnbroker's— but 
 he refused to receive it unless I gave a reference 
 to prove my respectability and thus show that I 
 had come honourably by it. I issued from his 
 shop in despair. In the street I met Mrs. Chick- 
 lade, who seemed to be lying in wait for me, 1 
 have read in romances how men in moments of 
 desperation have sold their souls to the Evil Oue ; 
 t was in a siuiilar mood that I accosted that 
 in. I told her my tale— and she offered to 
 dispose of the ring for me. I assented : I was to 
 meet her again in an hour or two. 1 met her — 
 she Icjd me a tale of diiEeulties which she had to 
 encounter — how she had left the ring at some 
 place, and how two or three days must elapse be- 
 fore its sale could be effecled. Then I was indeed 
 frenzied. She whispered evil words in my ear — I 
 scarcely knew what I was doing — 1 was mad at 
 the time — 1 suffered tier to lead me to her own 
 abode and there I met you!"
 
 181 
 
 AOSES; OE, BEAUlr AND PLEA9CEB. 
 
 "Yes, yes," again said Mr. Dalham hastily. 
 " But the ring ?" 
 
 " Subsequently, whea the vile woman learnt 
 liow in you I had accidentally encountered the 
 sun of my grandfather's enemy, and how you had 
 ])romised tu befriend me, she said that she must 
 be paid her reward for having introduced me to 
 one who was thus inclined to succour me; and slie 
 expressed her intention of keeping the ring as her 
 recompense. Vainly did I remonstrate— vainly 
 [lid 1 entreat and threaten: she threatened a 
 thousand things in return— and I was compelled 
 to yield. Then nearly two years passed away; 
 and often and often when I thought of your gene- 
 rosity and goodness in supplying the means of 
 keeping my aged grandsire from starvation, I 
 could scarcely begrudge Mrs. Chicklade the pos- 
 session of the ring, although it bad been my poor 
 mother's, as her reward for having been the means 
 of introducing me to you. But on that memo- 
 rable day when I met her in the bvo-lane imme- 
 diately after my interview with you, I beheld the 
 ring upon her finger : she displayed it to me with 
 a boastful triumph— and I implored her to suffer 
 me to repurchase it. 1 could not bear to see that 
 ring which had belonged to my pure and good and 
 virtuous mother, on the finger of that loathsome 
 wretch ! I had just received a handsome remune- 
 ration from Miss Evelyn, of Sidney Villa, for some 
 work I had done : but it was money that ought to 
 have lasted for upwards of a week in the mainte- 
 nance of my grandfather and myself. Yet I re- 
 solved to make any sacrifice sooner than leave the 
 ring with that vile woman. I therefore gave her 
 the entire contents of my purse : I left myself 
 penniless, inwardly resolving to dispose of part of 
 my wardrobe to obtain the wherewith to adminis- 
 ter to my grandsire's comforts until fresh earnings 
 should reward my hard toil. This, Mr. Dalham, 
 IS the history of the ring; and thereat Mr. War- 
 dour hinted in his speech somewhat more plainly 
 than I considered to be perfectly consistent with 
 his promise to keep my history a secret." 
 
 *' He did not violate your confidence," replied 
 Mr. Dalham ; " for even if you had told him no- 
 thing, his natural ingenuity would have helped 
 him to some such solution of the mystery as that 
 which he hinted at in court— and his reputation as 
 Q barrister compelled him to seize upon whatso- 
 ever idea was suggested or pointed at by the very 
 circumstances of the case itself. But why should 
 you have been so particular in veiling that trans- 
 action in such utter mystery ?" 
 
 " Oh ! why was I particular in shrouding every- 
 thing in mystery to the utmost of my power?" 
 exclaimed Winifred. " Because to have revealed 
 a portion would have been to afford a clue to the 
 discovery of everything ; and I would sooner have 
 perished — yes, 1 would sooner that yesterday's 
 verdict should have been the very opposite of 
 what it was, than that the whole tale should have 
 been made known ! You yourself respected my 
 secret when you first communicated with Mr. 
 Wardour ; for you simply told him that you had 
 been introduced to me through the medium of 
 Mrs. Chicklade, but that my virtue was unim- 
 peachable. Ob, yes, Mr. Dalham ! there were a 
 thousand reasons for the course which I have been 
 pursuing!— a thousand reasons for my silence in 
 respect to everything which related to my tempo- 
 
 rary connexion with that vile woman ! Could I 
 confess for what reason she had originally kept the 
 ring ? Who would have believed the tale that 
 when I suffered her to introduce me to a gentle- 
 man, I found in that gentleman a man of honour 
 who scorned to take advantage of the circum- 
 stances which had thrown me in his way ? I 
 would have died upon the scaffold sooner than 
 
 mention your name yes, I would have perished 
 
 rather tlian have had it yesterday proclaimed in 
 the court from Mr. Wardour's lips that I had 
 been thus introduced to a gentleman, and that this 
 gentleman was Mr. Dalham, the son of my grand- 
 sire's opponent in the lawsuit ! For, as 1 have 
 before said, if your father knew that you had in 
 any way succoured those who hear the hated name 
 of Barrington, he would have discarded, disowned, 
 and disinherited you — and your noble generosity 
 to me and my poor old grandsire would have been 
 the cause of your utter ruin I" 
 
 " This magnanimous motive on your part, Wini- 
 fred, I all along understood," said Roderick Dal- 
 ham; " and I knew that it was useless for me to 
 remonstrate, for that you would remain firm to 
 any resolution you had formed. Besides, X also 
 felt that the whole secret connected with Mrs. 
 Chicklade was your own, and that you had a right 
 to deal with it as you thought fit." 
 
 "Moreover," continued Winifred, "there were 
 other reasons which prompted me: I dared not 
 suffer your ua-ue to be in any way mentioned^I 
 dared not allow it to transpire, because it would 
 have killed my grandfather with grief if it had 
 come to his knowledge that ho had for nearly two 
 years past been subsisting on your bounty, while 
 believing that my own earnings were the source 
 of the comforts which he enjoyed. Thus, sooner 
 than your name should have been mentioned, i 
 was prepared to sacrifice myself!" 
 
 "Yes, yes— so I understood it, admirable girl 
 that you are!" exclaimed Dalham: "but I was 
 resolved to save you. For this purpose I so 
 managed as to get upon the jury; and if that 
 project had failed, I was resolved to stand up in 
 the court and proclaim all I knew rather than that 
 a hostile verdict should have been pronounced 
 against you. You, Winifred, were prepared to 
 encounter death rather than reveal those circum. 
 stances which would have caused my father to cast 
 me off for ever : I on the other hand was equally 
 resolved to bring all that ruin upon myself rather 
 than that your innocent life should be sacrificed. 
 Heaven knows how the wretched woman came by 
 her death ! — heaven knows who was her murderer I 
 — but all the points of evidence which weighed 
 strongly agiiiiist yourself —the expressions which 
 fell from your lips, and which were overheard by 
 young De Vere — all could have been explained 
 away by the revelation of the circumstances at- 
 tending your antecedent knowledge of Mrs. Chick- 
 lade. Admirable girl that you are 1" repeated 
 Roderick Dalham, "you would in the fist in- 
 stance have sold your virtue in orJor to procure 
 bread for your grandsirej— and now you would 
 have surrendered up your young life rather than 
 ruin me with my father by proclaiming that for 
 two years past I had been your friend!" 
 
 There was a brief pause, during which Roderick 
 Dalham contemplated Winifred with looks of 
 warmest admiration ; while her eyes were pen-
 
 sively bent downirard, she being unconscious that 
 Le was thus surveying her. 
 
 " Winifred," ho at length resumed — and now he 
 Epoko in a lower and more tender tone than at 
 iii-st, — " I came to you on this occasion not merely 
 to converse relative to the past, but to make you 
 a proposition. I am double your age— I have 
 been dissipated and wild in my time ; hut it these 
 circumstances do not utterly shut me out from 
 the attainment of the hope that I cherish, one 
 word from your lips will render me perfectly 
 happy. I love you— and I olfer you my hand. 
 We will wed in secret,- so that neither my father 
 nor your grandsire " 
 
 "No, Mr. Dalham— it is impossible!" inter- 
 rupted Winifred, whose look and tonS were alike 
 firm and decisive. " A thousand, thousand thanks 
 for the honour which you are doing me— for the 
 favour which you would confer upon mo ! — but it 
 caoBOt be 1 Numerous reasons compel me, Mr. 
 So. 24.— Agues. 
 
 Dalham, to give this negative response. As .t 
 benefactor— as one who in spite of all the strooi; 
 injunctions and frightful threats of malediction 
 issued by a father— yes, as one who has been bold 
 and chivalrous enough to befriend those who bear 
 the name of Barrington, you have a right to be- 
 come the arbiter of my destinies. But you will 
 not use your power despotically ?" 
 
 "No — not for worlds!" exclaimed Eoderick 
 Dalham. " You know, Winifred, that I would do 
 anything to insure your happiness : but I should 
 hate myleir were I to do aught that might render 
 you unhappy. Long have 1 admired your charac- 
 ter without ever dreaming that this admiration on 
 my part would expand into a more tender senti- 
 ment. But when I think of all the miseries you 
 have undergone, and of the noble sacrifices which 
 you were prepared to make,— when I think like- 
 wise that circumstances seem lately to have been 
 blending the threads of our destinies-bringing iis
 
 )E, BEACTT AHD PIEASCEB. 
 
 nearer aad nearer to each olhcr — placiog it in mj 
 power to save your life— rendering me as it were 
 necessary to you, — when I contemplate all tbeae 
 thioj3 " 
 
 "Yei," interrupted ^Vinifred, "there bare in- 
 dec'l been strange coincidences ; and you hare had 
 it in your power to render me immense eerrices. 
 But nerer can I regard you otherwise than aa a 
 friend. Indeed, I will be candid with you, Mr. 
 Dalfaam," continued Winifred, with blushing cheeks 
 and downcast looks : " there has been a love in 
 my heart— perhaps it still lingers there — though 
 1 am endearouring to stifle it a lore for an- 
 other—one who is absent— who has himself suf- 
 fered deeply " 
 
 " You mean your cousin GuBtavns," said Ro- 
 derick Dalham. "'VTeli, it is natar.'il, Winifred; 
 and may you both he happy together ! Tet why 
 did you speak of stifling this love of your's ?'* 
 
 "Alas! because I know that the happiness 
 which you so generously hope that we may enjoy, 
 is an impossibility ! If lore be not dead in my 
 teart, it must at least be triumphed over by the 
 effort of my own strong will. Never will I ac- 
 compary Gustavus to the altar I never will I be- 
 stow this hand upon him ! I believe that he loves 
 
 me yes, I am confident of it— and that he went 
 
 forth into the great world with the hope that 
 happier days would come wben we should be 
 united, never again to separate. And I too have 
 dreamt the same! — but that dream can now never 
 be realized !" 
 
 " Good heaven, Winifred !" ejaculated Eoderick 
 Salbam, " why do you speak in this desponding 
 tone ?" 
 
 " Do you forget, sir," asted the young girl, 
 with a voice and look of melancholy sweetness, 
 " that to your generosity I am indebted for the 
 rescue of my life fiom the hangman's loathsome 
 toach and the halter's hideous pressure ? Have I 
 not passed through the ordeal of 2*ewgate ? have 
 I not breathed the contaminating atmosphere of 
 felocry ? Has not a horrible accusation been made 
 against me ? — and though yesterday acquitted, yet 
 is there no lingering degradation attaching itself 
 to my name ? In a word, I have become an ob- 
 ject of notoriety " 
 
 "So, no — of sympathy!" ejaculated Dalham. 
 "The whole world now looks upon you as inno- 
 cent !" 
 
 " It may be so, sir— and I hope it i?," answered 
 Winifred : but her look and her voii-e both alike 
 inf'icated doubt and mistrust upon the point to 
 which she was alluding. "At all events I feel 
 that one who has passed through the dread ordeal 
 from which I have just issued, is not a fitting 
 bride for a nble minded, generous hearted young 
 man such as Gugtavus." 
 
 ** Your mind, Winifred, has received a terrible 
 shock from recent circumstance^" responded Mr. 
 Dalham : '■ aad yon contemplate everything 
 through this morbid medium. Best assured that 
 you will think differently when your spirits ac- 
 quire their wonted healthy tone. Tea— believe 
 nee, you will y?t be happy with vour cousin Gus- 
 tavus!" 
 
 Winifred shook her head mournfully ; and Eo- 
 derick Dalham, fearing to pursue a topic which 
 was evidently painful, turned the diieourse into 
 another channel. He delicately proffered pecu- 
 
 niary assistance ; but it was with the greatest dif- 
 ficulty he could induce Winifred to accept any- 
 thing from the contents of his purse- and then it 
 was only a small sum which she would take, so aa 
 to meet her expenses until her own industry with 
 the needle should once more become productive. 
 Boderick Dalham departed, full of a tender admi- 
 ration for the young girl ; and she ascended to her 
 own chamber to reflect upon everything that had 
 passed at this i 
 
 CHAPIEE SXSir. 
 
 cicely's hew plot. 
 
 Tt bis been seen that Cicely, on her return from 
 Edinburgh, continued to exercise the completest 
 coercion over her uncle Mr. Timperley. This gen- 
 tleman was only too glad to possess himself of the 
 letter which his niece had displayed to him, at the 
 enormous cost of thirty thousand pounds. The 
 sum was duly pai3 ; for Mr. Timperley was very 
 rich, and was accustomed to hold the chief portion 
 of bis funds in a manner that should be readily 
 available at a few hours' notice. Hector Hardree* 
 — although in a measure prepared for any pro- 
 ceeding however extraordinary on the part of hi( 
 bride — was nevertheless as much astonished as 
 pleased when be found that she had kept her word, 
 and that her dower was so handsome. She now 
 stipulated that the marriage ceremony should be 
 duly performed according to the rites of the Eog- 
 lish Church ; and Hardress offered no objection. 
 She was already bis wi-> in point of law ; and it 
 could make but little difference to him that she 
 should become his wife in point of religious cere- 
 mony also. The marriage was accordingly solem- 
 niied with the utmost privacy, — Mr. and Mrs. 
 Timperley being the only witnesses. A marriage 
 settlement had previously been drawn up by Mr. 
 Timperley, in virtue of which Cicely exercised ab- 
 solute control over her fortune : but she assured 
 Hardress that so long as he conducted himself in 
 a becoming manner towards her, he should be sup- 
 plied with the means of enjoying all the pleasures 
 of life and living accordiog to his rank and sta- 
 
 Mr. Timperley was careful to conceal any spite 
 or vexation whl-b he might cherish towards his 
 niece for the coercive power which she bad exer- 
 cised over him. He was one of those men who 
 always make the best of a bad job— he saw that 
 Cicely's marriage with a scion of the aristocracy 
 would greatly increase his own consequence— and 
 it was moreover his interest to keep on friendly 
 terms with Cicely, for reasons which cannot be at 
 present explained. Mrs. Timperley was so de- 
 lighted at the brilliant alliance contracted by her 
 niece, that she highly approved of what she be- 
 lieved to be her husband's spontaneous bequest of 
 the thirty thousand pounds — although she mar- 
 velled that he should have been so generous in r». 
 apect to the young lady's dower. 
 
 Immediately after the silemnizition of the pri- 
 vate marriage, the Hon. Mr. and Mrs. Hardrei* 
 took a genteel house at Baiswatcr; and they fur- 
 nished it elegantly, but not too expensively — 
 otherwise a considerable encroachment would bare
 
 A5B PUASOBB. 
 
 187 
 
 bccn made upon Cicely's dower. Some few of 
 Heotor'a male friends called upon them the mo- 
 ment they were settled in their new home : but 
 none of the ladies of the aristocracy stopped in 
 their carriages to leave a card at that bouse. No- 
 thing waa known to the discredit of Cicely : but 
 etill the union of Lord ilendleshara's eon and heir 
 with a lawyer's niece was considered to be a 
 match not deserving of countenance, — at least so 
 long as Hector's own family abstained from stamp- 
 ing it with their approval. Lord and Lady ileudle- 
 eham vowed that they never would accord this ap- 
 proval ; and they haughtily proclaimed that " the 
 young woman styling herself the Hun. Mrs. Hard- 
 ress, should never cross the threshold of their man- 
 eion." 
 
 This saying was by some means or another 
 wafted to Cicely's ears ; but instead of eshibitiog 
 either indignation or annoyance, she simply said, 
 in her usual quiet tone of confidence, " We shall 
 •ee." 
 
 Lord Mendlesham was, as the reader will recol* 
 lect, to a certain extent a client of Mr. Timperley, 
 through whose hands the income allowed to Mrs. 
 De Vere was paid. Mr. Timperley was therefore 
 acquainted with a certain secret in respect to Lord 
 Mendlesbam; and his lordship, upon hearing of the 
 marriage, naturally conceived that the old lawyer 
 had inveigled Hector into this alliance with his 
 niece. His lordship went privately to Mr. Tim- 
 perley'a office to reproach him on the subject : but 
 Mr. Timperley vowed and protested that he was 
 perfectly innocent on the point, and that ho was 
 not even aware his niece was acquainted with 
 Hector until after the elopement took place. As 
 a proof of this statement, Mr. Timperley dis- 
 played the letter written by Hardress from E lin- 
 burgh ; and Lord Mendlesbam was compelled to 
 be satisfied. 
 
 " Nevertheless, Timperley," he said, " I never 
 will acknowledge your niece as my daughter ; and 
 if you make such a request on her behalf, there 
 shall be an immediate end of all dealings betwixt 
 you and me. Tou know that 1 have privately re- 
 commended you a number of excellent clients ; 
 and you must therefore calculate whether it be 
 worth your while to quarrel with me— especially 
 as aucb a quarrel would only be for a fruitless pur- 
 pose, inasmuch as you would not succeed in your 
 aim. No !— sooner than yield, I would suffer you 
 to turn spitefully round upon me and proclaim all 
 you know of a certain episode in my life !" 
 
 "My lord," replied Mr. Timperley, obsequi- 
 ously, "I will never betray the secret; and I 
 humbly hope that your lordship will not with- 
 draw from me that patronage which though pri- 
 Tately demonstrated, has nevertheless been of tho 
 utmost service." 
 
 " On the understanding, therefore, ihat you 
 never mention to me the name of your niece," 
 replied the nobleman, " I will consent that in all 
 other respects you and I remain the same towards 
 each other as heretofore. As for my son, I shall 
 make him a small allowance. 1 cannot at my 
 death exclude him from bis heritage of titles and 
 estates: but so long as I live, I will exercise the 
 paternal power — and I will discard him !" 
 
 Having thus spoken, the indignant Lord Men- 
 dlesbam left the attorney's office. 
 
 We should observe that althougb Cicalj had 
 
 been informed by her ancle that Lord M3uale- 
 sham was one of his clients, she suspected not 
 that there was any particular secret between 
 them ; or else she would have very soon extorted 
 it to use for the purposes which she had in view. 
 When Mr. Timperley had mentioned to her that 
 his connexion with L:>rd Mendlesham was of a 
 private character, and that the fact was not to be 
 repeated to Hector,— Cicely had supposed that 
 they were mere money-affairs to which her uncle 
 alluded; for she knew that he was accustomed to 
 advance loans to the aristocracy : but she did not 
 consider such a circumstance in respect to Lord 
 Mendlesbam to be of sufficient importance to be 
 called to the aid of her own projects. In other 
 words, she did not conceive that tho power of 
 Mr. Timperley as a money-lender would bo suE- 
 cient to induce Lord Mendlesbam to stilb his 
 prideful feelings and acknowledge her as his 
 daughter-in-law. She therefore looked to other 
 means for the accomplishment of this aim. 
 
 Hector Hardress had necessarily discovered that 
 his valet Luke Corbet had for some time past 
 been playing a treacherous game towards himself 
 and one that was in favour of Cicely. Now that 
 Cicely had succeeded, and that Hardress submitted 
 to his destiny, he might have pardoned Luke Cor- 
 bet and buried the fact in oblivion: but every 
 fashionable young gentleman likes to have a valet 
 in whom he can trust— and Luke was no longer 
 trustworthy. Xaerefore Hector decided upon dis- 
 charging him the moment they returned to Laa- 
 don; and Cicely knew that it would be an outrage 
 upon her husband's feelings to take the valet's 
 part. She therefore assented to his dismissal : 
 hut she obtained the promise that a good character 
 should he given to Luke whenever ic might suit 
 his purpose to obtain another situition :— and she 
 privately added with liberality to the bribe she 
 had already given the man. She had moreover 
 still some work for him to do, in furtherance of 
 certain projects which she was about to carry on 
 unknown to her husband. 
 
 Cicely was ambitious ; and she was therefore 
 enterprising, as all ambitious people are. She bad 
 succeeded in making a good match : she had al- 
 ready the title of Honourable prefixed to her 
 name ; and in tho course of events she would be- 
 come Lady Mendlesbam — a peer's wife 1 But all 
 this was not suf&cient. She must be recognised 
 by her husband's family; and as the result of that 
 recognition, she must be introduced to the best 
 society. These were her aims ; and she was re- 
 solved to accomplish them. Besides, there was a 
 tincture of viodictiveness in Cicely's disposition ; 
 and she felt that it would be sweet to humble the 
 pride of Lord and Lady Mendlesbam, as well as to 
 force those ladies of the aristocracy who now kept 
 coldly aloof, to hasten to overwhelm her with their 
 courtesies. 
 
 It was a month after the marriage that the iaci- 
 ats occurred which we are about to relate. One 
 ining Cicely was seated alone in her elegantly- 
 furnished drawing-room at Bayswater ; and half- 
 reclining upon the sofa, she was reflecting on her 
 projects. Hector had gone out to dine with some 
 friends at an hotel ; for Cicely encouraged him in 
 seeking amusement away from home — not merely 
 because bis occasional absence was convenient to 
 herself, but likewise because she did not wish him
 
 A05B8 ; OE, BBiUTT ASD PLBASCEE. 
 
 to become disgusted with the monotony of a re- 
 tired life. The deep reverie of the Hon. Mrs. 
 Hardress was presently interrupted by the en- 
 trance of the footman, who was dressed in a plain 
 but neat livery ; and be said, " If you please, 
 ma'am, Luke Corbet requests the favour of a few 
 minutes* interview." 
 
 " Ah ! I daresay," observed Mrs. Hardresi, 
 with an air of careless indifference, " he comes 
 for a reference as to character ; and I will there- 
 fore see him." 
 
 The footman retired ; end in a few moments 
 Luke Corbet made his appearance. He bowed 
 low, and looked to see that the door had been 
 closely shut by the retiring footman. 
 
 " TTell, Luke," said Cicely, " what tidings have 
 you for me ?— and are they good?" 
 
 " As good as you could wish, ma'am," replied 
 Luke. " Selina has broached the subject — aqd 
 the young lady has agreed. Indeed, it was high 
 time — for it cannot possibly be put off any longer. 
 It is only a wonder how it could have been con- 
 cealed so long " 
 
 " And you are certain that she agrees ?" in- 
 quired Cicely with mingled anj^iety and exulta- 
 tion ; though she instantaneously composed her 
 feelings and became placid as before. 
 
 " She cannot do otherwise than agree, ma'am," 
 rejoined Luke ; " and she is deeply grateful. 
 Seiiua told her everything that I bad suggested 
 — which was according to your instructions. 
 
 IS astute, wary, and trustworthy. Besides, her 
 own interests are so deeply concerned " 
 
 "To be sure, ma'am," said Luke. '•' We have 
 been engaged for a consi.Ierable time— but we 
 bad not saved enough to dare think of marriage 
 until your goodness began to open a better pros- 
 pect " 
 
 ** And now, Luke," interjected Cicely, " there 
 will be nothing to interfere with the crowning of 
 your wishes. In a short time you aud Selina may 
 marry : you will have a pretty little capital to 
 begin the world with. Or you can both go into 
 the same service in some family— you as valet or 
 butler, your wife as housekeeper— where married 
 persons are not objected to." 
 
 " To be sure, ma'am," responded Luke. " I re- 
 presented all this to Selina; and therefore she en- 
 tered into the scheme. It is only now for you to 
 say when it shall be carried out." 
 
 " I will leave London to-morrow," rejoined 
 Cicely ; " and they may come if they like the day 
 after. But you are sure that the house at Hastings 
 is in every way fitted for the reception " 
 
 " I have already assured you, ma'am," replied 
 Luke, " that your instructions were completely 
 attended to. You know I have never deceived you 
 in any respect, nor misrepresented anything " 
 
 "Ifo— you have always served me faithfully. 
 But there is still one point on which I entertain 
 certain misgivings. I allude to the possibility of 
 a sufficient excuse being invented " 
 
 " You have nothing to fear, ma'am, on that 
 bead," exclaimed Luke. " Selina assured me that 
 bfr young mistress could easily devise the means 
 for absenting herself from home for six weeks or 
 a couple of months " 
 
 1 
 
 '•Then, in that case," sai* Cicely, "everything { 
 is settled. I repeat, I shall leave London to- 
 morrow. By the bye, I am to be Mrs. Han- 
 burv ?" 
 
 " Precisely so, ma'am," responded Luke, with a 
 significant smile ; " and your visitress is a Mri. 
 Colebrook." 
 
 "Good;" said Cicely. "Take this— and now 
 leave me." 
 
 The man bowed on receiving the gold wbioh 
 Cicely placed in his hand ; and when he had 
 quitted the room, an indescribable look of mingled 
 triumph, commiseration, and malicious vindictive- 
 ness swept over the countenance of Cicely. 
 
 "Poor girl!" she murmured to herself; "she 
 is amiable, I am told— and yet I must sacrifice 
 her to my own interests ! But it is impossible in 
 this world to succeed in the accomplishment of 
 one's selfish aims, without crushing the feelings of 
 others. If I behold a superb flower in the midst 
 of a parterre and desire lo possess it, I must 
 trample en some of the smaller flowerets in order 
 to make my way towards the object of my 
 fancy." 
 
 Cicely now waited patiently until her husband 
 returned — which was not much before midnight ; 
 and he was somewhat surprised to find that she 
 was sitting up for him — for this was the first time 
 she had done so, 
 
 " I hope you have enjoyed yourself, my dear 
 Hector ?" she said, welcoming him with a smile. 
 
 " Perfectly," he responded, with an equal degree 
 of good-bumour- 
 
 " I am glad of it. We did not merry to make 
 each other miserable, nor to be a coercive check 
 upon each other's actions. You have the advan- 
 tage over me : you have society — and I have none. 
 Nevertheless, the more you enjoy yourself the 
 better I shall be pleased ;— and I wish, by the bye, 
 that you would to-morrow purchase that horse to 
 which you took a fancy, and of which you spoke 
 this morning." 
 
 " You are very good. Cicely," answered Hector. 
 " I wish you yourself could devise some mean* 
 for your own recreation — something by way of a 
 
 "An opportunity has presented itself," rejoined 
 Cicelv. " I have this evening received a visit from 
 an old schoolfellow of mine-a lady who is mar- 
 ried, and settled at Hastings. She has insisted 
 that I should pass a few days with her ; and I 
 therefore think of accepting her proposal." 
 
 "By all means!" said Hardress. "When do 
 you purpose to set off ?" 
 
 " To-morrow morning," was the reply, — " unlet* 
 you have any objection ?" 
 
 " Not the slightest !" exclaimed Hector. " On 
 the contrary, I am truly and sincerely glad that 
 you have this opportunity of obtaining a little re- 
 creation. Where can I write to you if I should 
 have anything to communicate .•'" 
 
 " To the care of Mrs. Hanbury, Mowbray Villa, 
 near Hastings. She tells me that it is a beautiful 
 little place — a mile and a half from the towi — 
 and quite secluded — a charming retreat indeed. 
 And Hastings, you know, in this December season, 
 has a climate as genial as that of Brighton." 
 
 " I am sure you will enjoy yourself," rejoined 
 Hector. " But you will return before Christ- 
 mas?"
 
 5; OK, 
 
 ASP PLEASUBB. 
 
 "Oh, J«!" csclaimed Cicely. "This is but 
 the fifth of the month, you know ; and at the very 
 outside I shall not remain absent more than a 
 
 On the following morning the Hon. Mrs. Hard- 
 rese took her departure from the house at Bays- 
 water, and was conveyed in her own carriage to 
 i the London Bridge railway-station. She on some 
 excuse dispensed with the attendance of her lady's- 
 maid ; and she therefore travelled by herself in 
 the train to Hastings, where she arrived in the 
 afternoon. Thence she took a hackney-fly to 
 Mowbray Villa,— which little residence was pre- 
 cisely as she had described it to her husband 
 Hector, and which description was in accordance 
 with the one she had received from Luke Corbet. 
 Although it was now the beginning of December, 
 yet as the garden in which the villa stood was 
 tilled with evergreens, some of which had grown 
 to a considerable height— and as there was i fine 
 grass plat in front of the house, and the railings 
 were painted a bright green, and there were green 
 balconies and verandahs, besides green Venetian 
 abutters — the place had altogether a cheerful 
 aspect. It was two o'clock in the afternoon when 
 Cicely arrived; the day was fine— there was no 
 bleakness in the atmosphere ; and thus all circum- 
 Btanees combined to impress her with a favourable 
 idea of Mowbray Villa. 
 
 When the hackney-fly stopped at the gate, a 
 gardener who was employed within the enclosure, 
 hastened to attend upon the new comer ; and on a 
 bell being rung, a neatly-dressed elderly female 
 issued forth from the villa. She was followed by 
 a pretty and genteel looking housemaid; and as 
 they had no doubt that Cicely was the lady whom 
 they expected, they curtsied, and ushered her into 
 the drawing-room — while the gardener carried her 
 trunk into the hall. 
 
 " Mrs. Hanbury, I presume, ma'am ?" said the 
 elderly female, who was the housekeeper: and this 
 question she put when the pretty maid had re- 
 tired and she was alone with Cicely in the draw- 
 ing-room. 
 
 " I am Mrs. Hanbury," ansivered Cicely. " I 
 suppose it is scarcely nec ssary to repeat the terms 
 on which my servant engaged Mowbray Villa?" 
 
 "For two months certain, ma'am — perhaps for 
 three," replied the housekeeper. "Terms, four 
 guineas a week, with all requisite attendance. 
 You see, ma'am. Captain anj Mrs. Campbell, 
 my master and mistress, always go to London 
 during the winter ; and therefore if they can let 
 the villa ready furnished for a few months, they 
 have no objection." 
 
 "Certainly not," rejoined Cicely. "But I sup- 
 pose that my servant dropped you a hint in re- 
 ference to the actual purpose for which the villa 
 was required for a couple of months— though of 
 course the man could nut speak to you so frankly 
 on the subject as I myself can." 
 
 " He said sufficient, ma'am," responded the 
 housekeeper, " to afford me an insight into the 
 matter : but of course that's nobody's business ex- 
 cept their's whom it concerns. Ho paid me a 
 month in advance — and I gave hira a receipt. 
 But if I may be so bold, ma'am," continued the 
 housekeeper, with a mysteriously significant air, 
 " I would recommend Mr. Saunders— a very clever 
 practitioner. He is an elderly gentleman— mar- 
 
 ried— and will keep a secret. If he should in 
 after-life see the poor dear young lady " 
 
 " Mrs. Colebrook is the name she will choose to 
 pass by," interjected Cicely. 
 
 " Well, if Mr. Saunders should meet her in 
 after-life, either in a bye lane where there is no- 
 body else but their two selves, or in the midst of a 
 room crowded with people, he will not appear to 
 recognise her — he will pass her just for all the 
 world as if he had never in his life seen her be- 
 fore." 
 
 "That is just the medical attendant who will 
 suit," said Cicely. " He shall be engaged on your 
 recommendation. I see that you are a woman of 
 circumspection and prudence. This is an affair in 
 which the dishonour of a young lady, if it should 
 by accident transpire, would redound upon an en- 
 tire family; and therefore we cannot be too cau- 
 tious. But I have yet something to tell you — 
 something to confide to your discretion. The 
 young lady does not know me by sight : she only 
 knows me by name. It is through the medium of 
 her lady's-maid that I have become interested in 
 the matter. The truth is But what is your 
 
 " Mrs. Bulkins, ma'am, at your service," re- 
 plied the housekeeper. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Bulkins," continued Cicely, " the 
 truth is, that this young lady of whom we are 
 speaking, believes the villa to be my own— or at 
 least my own proper habitation; and she does not 
 know that it is merely temporarily hired for her 
 special accommodation. She thinks that her lady's- 
 maid was once in my service at this very villa; 
 and that I, not being quite so well off as I could 
 wish, have agreed to reoeivo the young lady during 
 the time of her trouble. It is an innocent cheat 
 you see, Mrs. Bulkins, and cannot make the 
 slightest difference to you; but still it is necessary 
 that the tale should be consistently persevered in 
 by all with whom the young lady may couie in 
 
 " Oh, I understand, ma'am I" said the house- 
 keeper, simpering and curtseying as she received 
 the couple of guineas which Cicely slipped into her 
 hand. " I will take care that if the young lady 
 should happen to speak to the housemaid con- 
 cerning you, there shall be no contradiction given 
 to the tale it has pleased you to tell." 
 
 "And Mr. Saunders likewise," suggested Cicely. 
 
 " And Mr. Saunders likewise," added Mrs. Bul- 
 kins. 
 
 Here the colloquy terminated ; and Cicely began 
 to roam through the villa that she might make 
 herself acquainted with every nook and corner 
 thereof, so that she might not seem at a loss in 
 respect to its topography when her visitress should 
 arrive. The house was very well furnished, and 
 possessed every comfort for the use and accommo- 
 dation of a genteel family ; for the Campbells were 
 well off, but mean to a degree ; and it was there- 
 fore their habit to make the letting of Mowbray 
 Villa in the neighbourhood of Hastings pay for 
 the lodgings which they occupied in tho metropolis 
 during their winter sojourn there. 
 
 On the following day, at about two o'clock, the 
 Hon. Mrs. Hardress— now bearing fur the nonce 
 the name of Mrs. Hanbury — was on the look-out 
 for the expected arrival of the voung lady who 
 was to bear the name of Mrs. Colebrook. Not
 
 100 
 
 AOKES; OE, HBkVrX AM) FLEA8UBB. 
 
 however that Cicely thoug!.t the young lady would 
 make her appearance much before the evening : 
 for in order to arrive there at two in the afternoon 
 it would be necesBary for her to leave by an early 
 train in the morning— and it was more probable 
 that she would consult her convenience by taking 
 a later one. And Cicely was right: for it was not 
 until seven o'clock in the evening that a hackney- 
 ily from Hastings drew up at the gate of the villa. 
 Cicely hastened forth, followed by Mrs. Bulkins 
 and the housemaid, to receive the visitress. A 
 young lady, enveloped in a cloak and with a black 
 veil over her countenance, alighted from the 
 vehicle : she was evidently in a state of consider- 
 able agitation — for she clung to Cicely's arm for 
 support. Then her. maid descended; and Cicely, 
 in order to keep up appearances, said, " How do 
 you do, Selina ?" 
 
 "Quite well I thank you, ma'am j and I hope 
 I find you the same," was the ready response. 
 
 Cicely now conducted Mrs. Culebroolc into the 
 villa ; and on reachmg the drawing-room where 
 the lanops were lighted and a cheerful lire was 
 blazing in the grate, the young lady shook Cicely 
 by the hand, faltering forth, " Oh, Mrs. Hanbury, 
 how can I ever testify my gratitude for all this 
 kindness?" 
 
 " Don't be excited or agitated, my dear Mrs. 
 Colebrook," responded Cicely : " consider this 
 house to be your home. I have taken every pre- 
 caution—I have told the servants a suitable tale— 
 n medical gentleman is engaged to attend upon 
 you — one in whose honour you may place 
 
 " Ob, what kindness !" murmured the young 
 lady, as she sank upon the sofa, overpowered by 
 her feelings. 
 
 Selina in the meanwhile had been hastening 
 over the house with Mrs. Bulkins, to make her- 
 self acquainted with its arrangements, fur pre- 
 cisely the same reason which had influenced Cicely 
 on the preceding day — namely, that she might not 
 be at a loss in any respect when in the presence of 
 her mistress, but on the contrary might seem 
 quite familiar with the place where she was sup- 
 posed to have lived before. Seliua was a genteel- 
 looking woman, of about two-and -thirty— of plain 
 countenance, though not actually ugly — of good 
 manners, ready wit, and somewhat unprincipled 
 disposition. At the same time she was incapable 
 of any action positively criminal : but her moral 
 notions were not so stringent as to prevent her 
 from making money by a complicity in the plot in 
 which Mrs. Hardress was engaged. Moreover, 
 Selina, as wo have seen, had been successfully 
 courted by Luke Corbet; and they had only re- 
 quired a little improvement in their prospects in 
 order to think seriously of matrimuny. 
 
 During the few minutes which elapsed after 
 Mrs. Colebrook's introduction into the drawing- 
 room, while she expressed her gratitude to Cicely 
 and then sat overpowered by her feelings on the 
 Bofa, she retained her veil over her countenance in 
 such a way that Mrs. Hardress could barely catch 
 a glimpse of her features. Cicely however already 
 knew that she was beautiful ; and that partial 
 j glimpse was sullicicnt to confirm the impression. 
 I Selina now entered to conduct her young mistress 
 J to the chamber prepared for her reception j and 
 there she remained for nearly hal(-au-bour. 
 
 At the expiration of that interval Mrs. Ool«< 
 brook returned to the drawing-room, in a plain 
 evening toilet. She no longer wore a veil OTer 
 her countenance ; and thus Cicely was at length 
 enabled to obtain a full view of her. And truly 
 beautiful she was. Her age was between twenty 
 and twenty-one: she was of fair complexion, and 
 had glossy auburn hair. There was an expression 
 of peculiar sweetness in her features— an expression 
 of candour and innocence ; so that it seemed 
 strange how such a being could have yielded to 
 the wiles of the seducer. Yet so it was ; for this 
 young lady was, as the reader must have already 
 comprcheaded, in a way to become a mother 
 without being a wife. Yet although an interval 
 of six weeks would scarcely elapse ere the crisis 
 must arrive, yet was the fact so little, if indeed at 
 all perceptible, that Cicely would never have sus. 
 pected it unless previously informed of the circum- 
 stance. The young lady was tall and well formed, 
 with a remarkably tine bust: but she stooped 
 slightly— though very slightly, and not in an un- 
 graceful manner. It was as the flower slightly 
 inclines upon its stalk. She had large blue eyes, 
 full of a soft pensiveness— regular features, de- 
 licately shaped- an oval countenance— red lips— 
 and faultless teeth. There was in her bearing all 
 the grace of an elegant relinement; and though 
 her manners were frank and affable, without the 
 slightest tincture of pride, yet was it easy to per- 
 ceive that she was a yiJung lady of distinction, and 
 that ber accustomed place in society was in an 
 exslted sphere. 
 
 Cicely surveyed her with admiration, blended 
 with sympathy and remorse. Indeed for a few 
 moments Cicely was staggered in her purpose; 
 and she thought within herself, " No ! I never can 
 betray this beautiful and amiable young lady!" 
 
 But a feeling of selfishness was not long ere it 
 predominated over those better sentiments; and 
 Cicely's heart was hardened. 
 
 Three days passed, — during which Mrs. Cole- 
 brook became accustomed to her new home; and 
 even in that short time she learnt to look upon 
 Cicely as one of the dearest and kindest friends 
 whom she had ever possessed, — the friend who was 
 saving her from the exposure of her frailty, from 
 shame and dishonour. She did not once allude 
 to the author of her misfortune ; though Cicely 
 well knew who her seducer was — that secret 
 having been revealed to her by Luke Corbet, who 
 had heard it from Selina. And Cicely also well 
 knew that the unprincipled individual had re- 
 cently betrayed another too confiding girl ! 
 
 Mr. Saunders was introduced to the villa : b« 
 was all urbanity and kindness- ho had received 
 his cue from Mrs. Bulkins— and he said not a 
 syllable which was calculated to raise a blush to 
 
 9 unfortunate patient's cheeks nor to humiliate 
 
 r in his presence. Thus everything progressed 
 
 favourably as circumstances would permit. 
 
 On the fourth morning after the young lady's 
 arrival at Mowbray Villa, Cicely received a letter, 
 which was delivered to her when seated at the 
 breakfast-table, and which appeared to cause her 
 much chagrin, Mrs. Colebrook watched her ouuo- 
 tenance with anxiety ; tor in certain circumstances 
 a female who is jjaeed in a false position, in- 
 variably fancies that whatsoever sinister ocoors 
 directly regards herself.
 
 ASKES; 
 
 PLEASUEE. 
 
 131 
 
 "This 13 indeed roost annoying!" said Cicely, 
 assuming an air of groat vexation as she referred 
 to tbo letter. " I would rather that anything 
 should have happened " 
 
 " My dear Mrs.--IIanbury," said the young lady, 
 much agitated, " I hope that I am in no way a 
 source of embarrassment to your proceedings " 
 
 " Oh, do not think of such a thing !" ejaculated 
 Cicely. " 1 am annoyed because 1 find myself 
 compelled to leave you for a few days. I have 
 received the intellitjence that a very dear friend of 
 mine, residing at Dover, is about to proceed to the 
 Continent on a two years' trip ; and she wishes to 
 see me before she departs. 1 am afraid that you 
 will be dull during my absence— fspeeinlly as you 
 persist in not stirring beyond the grounds of the 
 villa " 
 
 " I shall assuredly be dull, my dear friend," re- 
 plied the young lady, '*' because 1 shall miss you 
 so much ! But you must not think of me ; and I 
 must endeavour to divert my mind as well as 1 am 
 able. I beseech you, Mrs. Uanbury, not to annoy 
 yourself on my account." 
 
 It was accordingly decided that Cicely should 
 depart. Uer young friend threw herself into her 
 arms, and embraced her with as much affection as 
 if they had known each other for years instead of 
 days. But gratitude is a soil in which the flowers 
 of friendship and love speedily spring up, to bloom 
 most luxuriantly. Again was Mrs. Hardress 
 smitten with remorse and moved with the ten- 
 derest sympathy : but when seated in the vehicle 
 which was conveying her into Hastings, she again 
 hardened her heart — and seltishoess predominated 
 over every other consideration. 
 
 " She is lulled into a sense of the completest 
 security," thought Cicely : " she will remain there 
 in the confidence that she is safe. Little suspects 
 she the storm which is brewing ; — and would to 
 God that 1 were not the evil genius whose hand 
 was constrained to grasp the thunderbolt ! But it 
 must be so : I can think only of myself ! Perish 
 all other considerations !" 
 
 It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when 
 Cicely arrived in London ; and on reaching the 
 railway station, she took a cab for the West End. 
 In due course the vehicle stopped in front of a 
 stately mansion ; and Cicely alignied. Her sum- 
 mons at the front door was speedily answered by 
 the hall-porter ; and she inquired, " Is his lord- 
 ship at home ?" 
 
 " He is, ma'am," was the reply. " What name 
 shall I send up ?" 
 
 " It is needless to send any name," answered 
 Cicely : " his lordship does not know me— but I 
 coiue upon very important business." 
 
 " And yet, ma'am," said the hall-porter, who 
 though slill proi'oundly respectful, nevertheless 
 began to survey Cicely with some little degree of 
 suspicion, as if lie had an idea who she might 
 possibly be, — "it is u£ual to send up the 
 
 " Well, tbetlj »ay Mrs. Hanbury from Has- 
 tings," interrupted Cicely, who saw the necessity 
 of giving a niioe of some kind. 
 
 The hall porter's countenance instantaneously 
 cleared up. He had for a moment suspected that 
 this might possibly be the Mrs. Hardress who on 
 DO account was to be admitted into the mansion : 
 but that bold specification of another name and of 
 
 an address at such a distance from the metropolis, 
 set the man's mind at rest. He accordingly sum- 
 moned the footman, and bade him conduct the 
 lady into his lordship's presence. Cicely inwardly 
 exulted at the success which had thus far attended 
 her proceedings : for although she bad never be- 
 fore been to this mansion, she had thought it by 
 no means unlikely that some of the domestics 
 might know her by sight— in which case she would 
 have found the portals closed against her : for the 
 reader has by this time comprehended that it was 
 Lord Mendlesham's palatial abode at which Cicely 
 had now presented herself. Having been con- 
 ducted up a wide and splendid staircase, Mrs. 
 Hardress found herself upon a landing embellished 
 with fine pictures and porcelain vases, and whence 
 two long passages branched off, communicating 
 with various apartments. The footman threw 
 open a door, and announced, " Mrs. Hanbury." 
 
 Lord Mendlesham, who bad been seated alone 
 in that room, rose from his chair and bowed some- 
 what atiflly — or with what might be better de- 
 scribed as a haughty courtesy ; for the name of 
 Mrs. Hanbury was utterly unknown to him. Yet 
 when, on a second glance, he beheld a fine young 
 lady, handsomely dressed, and of very genteel ap- 
 pearance, he unbent somewhat from his aristo- 
 cratic hauteur, and indicated a seat, saying, " I do 
 not think I have previously had the honour of 
 Mrs. Uanbury's acquaintance ?" 
 
 Cicely now beheld her father-in-law for the first 
 time ; and she saw before her a man in his forty- 
 sixth year — tall, upright, and somewhat stoutly 
 built — with dark grey expressive eyes, an aqui- 
 line profile, and the brown hair slightly mingled 
 with grey and worn away from off the temples and 
 the front part of the crown. His countenance was 
 intellectual ; but his whole demeanour indicated 
 the patrician pride of one of the high Tory school. 
 
 " I have to request your lordship's patience for 
 a few minutes," said Cicely, who had the easy 
 affable manner of a gentlewoman, and who was by 
 no means embarrassed nor overawed by finding 
 herself in the presence of this proud peer. " I 
 come from Hastings, where I have seen some one 
 who is connected with your lordship, and in whom 
 you are naturally much interested." 
 
 " I scarcely know to whom you can possibly 
 allude, madam," replied the nobleman coldly; "for 
 my daughter the Hon. Miss Hardress is at Brigh- 
 ton ; and as for my son In short, I have ceased 
 
 to be interested in him at all." 
 
 " It is to your lordship's daughter that I al- 
 lude," responded Cicely. 
 
 "To coy daughter? and you say that you have 
 seen her at Hastings ? "Well, it is quite possible 
 she may have paid a visit thither— it is not very 
 far from Brighton. But I hope, Mrs. Hanbury," 
 added Lord Mendlesham, now speaking with 
 some degree of anxiety, " that you are the bearer 
 of no evil intelligence in respect to my beloved 
 child ?" 
 
 "The Hon.- Miss Hardress," answered Cicely, 
 " is not staying at Brighton, and has not been to 
 Brighton at all. She is staying at Hastings -" 
 
 " This is ridiculous, Mrs. Hanbury !" ejaculated 
 the nobleman ; " and I cannot conceive for what 
 reason you should come to me with such a tale. I 
 yesterday morning received a latter from my 
 daughter at Brighton^—"
 
 193 
 
 OK, BEACTT AS 
 
 " I know it, my lord j for mjseif seot it to 
 Brighton to be post there." 
 
 " What ?" cried the nobleman, now starting 
 with uneasiness : "is it possible that some dupli- 
 city But no ! Josephine is incapable of it !" 
 
 "Your lordship imagines tliat your daughter 
 Josephine," said Cicely, " has gone to pass a few 
 weeks with a widow lady named Elwards : but 
 that tedy does not now reside at Brighton at all— 
 ahe is on the Continent " 
 
 "Good God! what is all this that I hear?" 
 ejaculated Lord Mendtesham, starting up from his 
 seat in a violent state of agitation. " "U'bo are 
 you, madam ? — and why should my daughter be 
 at Hastings ?" 
 
 " She is residing with me, my lord, at a secluded 
 Tilla about a mile and a half from the town ; and 
 when you learn how I have befriended her," 
 added Cicely, with a look of deep mysterious 
 meaning, " you will thank me — you wiU pour 
 forth your soul in gratitude; for never did an un- 
 fortunate betrayed young lady stand more in need 
 of a friend than your daughter Josephine !" 
 
 Lord Mendle>bam grew pale as death : the 
 strong man staggered beneath the blow inflicted ' 
 by those words, as if he were a child reeling from [ 
 the buffet of a giant hand ; and sinking upon his I 
 chair, he gazed on Cicely in mingled consternation 1 
 and dismay. In fact, for the last month or six 
 »o«k8 ho aud Lady Mecdlesham had fancied that ! 
 Josephine was not altogether in her usual health : 
 but she had refused to receive a visit from the 
 family physician— she had suggested that a little 
 change of air was all that she required— and hence 
 the permission accorded by her parents for her to 
 set off (as they thought) for Brighton. Xever 
 until this instant had Lord Mendlesbam enter- 
 tained the slightest suspicion of the dreadful 
 truth : but now it burst upon him with all the i 
 overwhelming force of an irresistible conviction. 
 
 " My God; my God !" he murmured ; " is this 
 possible ? — am I disgraced and dishonoured in 
 both my children ? Oh, it was sufficient that 
 Hector should have gone wrong, without Jose- 
 phine being likewise brought so low!" 
 
 " The secret is safe, my lord," said Cicely : " of 
 this you may rest assured ! — and it will therefore 
 depend upon yourself and Lady Slendlesham 
 whether it shall remain so." 
 
 " If I did not think it was safe," responded the 
 nobleman, in a low hollow voice, — " if I thought 
 there was the slightest chance of exposure, I would 
 blow out my brains: for a man who is dis- 
 honoured in his daughter, cannot look the world 
 in the face !" 
 
 " I repeat the assurance," r<>joined Cicely, 
 '* that the secret is entirely safe ! Selina, your 
 daughter's maid, is trustworthy ; and your lord- 
 ship may judge from the manner in which 1 have 
 eome to you, whether 1 myself am likely to betray 
 that secret. Indeed, I have a greater interest in 
 maintaining the honour of your family than you 
 can as yet possibly conceive." 
 
 But the wretched nobleman heard not these last 
 words i or if he heard them, he paid no especial 
 heed to them : but rising from his seat, be paced 
 to and fro in an agitated and excited manner, — 
 ejaculating, " My God I what shame, what degra- 
 dation for my proud family ! Josephine seduced ! 
 —Josephine whom I believed to be the pattern of 
 
 virtue !— it seems impossible! But, Ah! that 
 villain Clifford whom she loved ! Fool, fool that 
 I was so sternly to forbid his suit ! Yes, yea— I 
 see it all !— the girl's anjjuh when I ordered him 
 from the house — the woe-begone look she flung 
 upon me ! Insensate that I have been ! But 
 my God ! how can I ever break this frightful in- 
 telligence to my wifa ? It will kill her !" 
 
 In this manner did the unhappy Lord Mendle- 
 sbam give vent to his despair, while pacing to and 
 fro in that apartment. For awhile he seemed un- 
 conscious of Cicely's presence, — until abruptly 
 stopping short, he seized her hand ; and pressing 
 it warmly, said in a voice tremulous with emotion, 
 " You are indeed a kind friend to my unhappy 
 daughter ! — yes, a friend to us all in endeavouring 
 to throw a veil over her dishonour ! You say she 
 is residing at your house?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord," replied Cicely ; " and every 
 precaution has been taken to protect her secret 
 from the knowledge of the world. I swear to you 
 that ic rests entirely with yourself " 
 
 " Oh ! can you for a moment doubt," ex- 
 claimed Mendlesbam, " whether I myself am anx- 
 ious to save my unhappy child from eternal 
 degradation ? But how came you acquainted 
 with her secret ?" 
 
 " Xn matter, my lord," replied Cicely : " you 
 see tb..t I im her frieui. Perhaps I may ask a 
 
 " Ask anvthiog, aud it shall be granted !" ejacu- 
 lated toe nobleman. " If you saved my life, or 
 the lift? of my daughter, I should become your 
 eternal debtor ; — and now you are saving some- 
 thing which is even dearer than life— you are 
 saving the honour of the family !" 
 
 " You see, my lord," continued Cicely, with seri- 
 ousness alike of tone and look, " you are afflicted in 
 your cliiliren : but pardon me for asking whether 
 these atliictioas may not in some sense be a punish- 
 ment for your own haughty pride ? Start not— 
 and be not angry with me that I use terms 
 apparently so harsh. Because there has long been 
 a species of feud betwixt yourself and Ljrd Win- 
 dermere, you sternly forbade the suit of his son 
 Theodore Clifford ; and when you found that he 
 had stealthily entered your house to pay his ad- 
 dresses to your daughter, you banished bim under 
 all circumstances of ignominy. Then, in respect 
 to your son Hector " 
 
 " Speak not of him !" ejaculated the nobleman 
 vehemently : " he has naught to do with the pre- 
 sent unfortunate affair!" 
 
 " And yet, my lord," said Cicely, with a firm 
 decisiveness of tone, " it suits my purpose to epeak 
 of your son Hector." 
 
 " Madam," cried the nobleman, " you are abus- 
 ing the power which circumstances have given you 
 over me !— you are touching upon s topic which 
 cannot possibly concern you !" 
 
 " More perhaps than your lordship imagines," 
 responded Cicely. " Did you not ere now promise 
 that anything I might ask as a reward for tue 
 friendship which I am displaying towards your 
 daughter " 
 
 " Yes, yes!" ejaculated the excited nobleman ; 
 " and if this friendship of your's be not disinte- 
 rested, but can be recompensed by gold " 
 
 "Ko, my lord," said the young lady proudly i 
 " I seek not gold as a reward. But I would ask
 
 you to whose friendship Josephine Herdress has 
 a better right to look, than to that oi her own 
 eister-in-law ?" 
 
 "What!" ejaculated Mendlesham, a light 8 ud- 
 denlj Hashing in upon his mind, and his counte- 
 nance as rapidly becoming stern and severe. " Y'ou, 
 then, are not Mrs. Hanbury " 
 
 " No, my lord— I am Mrs. Hardress :" and 
 Cicely rose from her seat with a look of calm dig- 
 nified confidence. 
 
 Under the impulse of his indignant feelings 
 Lord M'.-ndtesham extended his arm towards the 
 door; and the command to quit the bouse was un 
 the very point of bursting from his !ips, when he 
 was all in a moment overwhelmed by the recollec- 
 tion that his daughter's honour was in the keeping 
 of the woman whom he was thus about to outrage. 
 His arm dropped, as if paralysed, to his side — 
 and he bent upon Cicely the look of one who felt 
 2Jo. 25.— Aghbs. 
 
 himself entirely vanquished, — saying in a low 
 
 "I am your son's wife," responded Cicely; 
 "and I claim to be acknowledged as ^our daugh^ 
 ter." 
 
 There was a silence of upwards of a minute^ 
 during which Lord Mendlesbam reflected deeply: 
 but there was agitation in his thoughts, as was 
 proved by his pale quivering lips. At length be 
 said in a hoarse voice, " And if I refuse ?" 
 
 " If you prove implacable, my lord," replied 
 Cicely, "I also shall be implacable! Deal with 
 me in a manner of becoming kindness; and there 
 is no kindness that I will not show towards your 
 daughter— who heaven knows is in need of much! 
 But if you regard me as an enemy, then will yon 
 be provoking an hostility which on my side shall 
 be merciless and terrible !" 
 
 "What, what du you require ? — what, what do
 
 ▲os£8; OB, beaut; asd plbascbb. 
 
 Tou demand i" asked the noblemao, ia a tremulous 
 Toice. 
 
 " I require and demand (be same trentmeut at 
 the bands of yourself and Lady ilendlesbam as 
 if I bad been a bride of your own selecliou for 
 your sou Hector! I reijuiie that with tbe least 
 possible delay you shall see Hector, receive him 
 in your arms, and tell him that be is pardoned ! 
 1 require your lordsbip aud Lady Mendleebam to 
 visit us at our house at Bayswater, and to make it 
 known throughout tbe entire circle of your ac- 
 quaintance that you are uut merely reconciled to 
 your son, but that on knowing your daujbter-in- 
 law, you fiod btr to be in every way worthy of 
 the family into which she has entered ! As for 
 money, I care nothing! I brought my husband 
 thirty thousand pounds as a dower; and at the 
 death of my uncle, who is wealthy, I myself shall 
 be rich. Now, my lord, you know my require- 
 ments and my demands:— are they to be con- 
 ceded ?" 
 
 The nobleman bad found leisure during this 
 long speech to ponder each detail as it progressed, 
 and to make up his mind bow to act. Accord- 
 ingly, when Mrs. Hardress had finished. Lord 
 Mendlvsham at onco said, " Cicely, I yield ! I 
 consent! 1 acknowledge you as my daughter in- 
 law. Alt yoa have asked shall be fulfilled !" 
 
 He presented bis band, which Cicely slightly 
 touched with her lipe: it was a mere form on her 
 part — fur she knew that this reconciliation was 
 something extorted, and not a spontaneous efllu- | 
 enco from any benevolent kindness on tbe part of j 
 the nobleman. I 
 
 " It cannot be until to-morrow,** be said, " that ' 
 I may present jou to your motber-in-law: fori 
 have now a very painful task to perform— I must 
 break to her the frightful intelligence you have 
 brought— I dread the consequences— she will be 
 overwhelmed with grief and despair! But does 
 Hector already know everything?" 
 
 " He knows nothing, xny lord," replied Cicely ; 
 " and if you desire it, he need never know of his 
 sister's shame.** 
 
 " In the name of heaven, keep it from him !" 
 cried the nobleman, thankful for the assurance be 
 thus received. "I know bis fiery spirit— he would 
 at once seek to inflict condign vengeance upon the 
 villain Theodore Clifford " 
 
 "Fear nothing, my lord," interrupted Cicely: 
 " I promise you that Hector shall continue in 
 ignorance of this calamity. But remember that 
 to-morrow you are to see him; and it will be for 
 yourself and Lady Mendlesbam to maintain such 
 a demeanour that be may suspect nothing." 
 
 '*TeB, yes I — we must indeed dissimulate,** re- 
 plied the nobleman, "not only before him, but be- 
 fore the world likewise!** 
 
 Alter a little more conversation, Cicely took her 
 departure from the mansion of her father-in-law ; 
 and re-entering the cab which had brought her 
 thither, she ordered herself to be driven home. 
 That interview with Lord Mendlesbam bad been 
 a long one ; and it was past seven o*clock when 
 Cicely reached Bayswater. Hector had gene out 
 to dine ; and she patiently awaited bis return. 
 She bad every reason to congratulate herself upon 
 the success of ber plans : the height of bcr ambi- 
 tion was attained— she was already acknowledged 
 as Lord Meadlesliam*« daughter ia-law— on the 
 
 morrow tbe carriage of that nobleman and hie 
 wife would drive up to tbe houso-and within a 
 few days the entire aristocracy would learn that 
 tho reconciliation was complete. Then all tbe 
 connexions and friends of the family would call to I 
 pay their respects to the Hon. Mr. and Mrs. ' 
 Hardress ; and Cicely*a pride wouhl be in every 
 sense vindicated and gratified. As she reviewed I 
 all the circumstances which bad tuuded to elevate I 
 her to the pedestal on which sho now found ber- f 
 self standing, she experienced a glow of exultation I 
 at the ingenuity with which she had combined ber 
 various plans, as well as at the indomitable perse- | 
 verance with which she ha 1 carried them out. Al- | 
 though a woman, she felt proud of possessing the j 
 strength of the most masculine mind ; and she had 
 indeed good cause to exult in the energy of her 
 character. 
 
 Hector returned home at about eleven o'clock, 
 little suspecting the joyous tidings which awaited 
 him. Tiiese were speedily imparted; and he em- 
 braced Cicely with a sincere fervour. She said 
 nothing of his sister Josephine : she had arranged 
 with Lord Mendlesbam, previously to taking leare 
 of him, a tale to account for the sudden change 
 in the sentiments of himself and her ladyship. 
 Hector was loo much rejoiced to be very pointed 
 in pulling his questions as to the means by which 
 tbe reconciliation had been brought about ; and 
 for the same reason be was easily satisfied with 
 the explanations given by Cicely. 
 
 Everything took place according to the agree- 
 ment made between Mrs. Hardress and Lord 
 Mendlesham. That nobleman and bis wife called 
 on the following day ; and within forty-ei;;ht hours 
 it was known tlrou^hout tbe fashionable world 
 that the family recjnciliation was complete. The 
 consequence was soon demonstrated by the stop- 
 ping of numerous carriages at the door of tho 
 house at Biiyswater ; and the elegant papier 
 machi tray on the table of Cicely*8 drawing- 
 room was speedi'y filled with the cards of tho 
 elits of the nobility and gentry resident in Loa- 
 dou. 
 
 CHAPIEK SXSIir. 
 
 THE IBEABUEB.- THE AEEIVAL. 
 
 AGXE3 EvELTS- though overwhelmed with dis- 
 tress, on account of the discovery which she ha.l 
 made that her cousin Floribel was not united to 
 Theodore CUBford in matrimonial bonds— did not 
 however forget her sympathetic feelings on behalf 
 of Winifred Bjrrington. She bad from tbe very 
 first believed that 'WiDifred was innocent, though 
 sho was utterly unable to fir her suspicions on any 
 one else as the murderer of Mrs. Chicklade. Agnes 
 was a firm believer in the truths of religion and in 
 providential intervention ; and thus to ber devout 
 and confiding mind tbe acquittal of Winifred in 
 the face of such strong circumstastial evidenae, 
 appeared to be heaven'a own interposition on be- 
 half of the innocent. Accordingly, no sooner wai 
 Winifred released from prison, than Agnes sent 
 ber a message desiring her to come to Sydney 
 Villa ; and she purposely prepared a considerable 
 quantity of high-priced work to give to the jiour
 
 AQITES; OB, 
 
 FLBASUBB. 
 
 106 
 
 pri, as an excuse for providing her wilh the im- 
 mediate means of a comfortable subsistence. 
 
 Winifred was not therefore compelled to seek in 
 any other quarter for work ; and setting herself to 
 her task, she seemed to have rehpsed into her 
 former mode of life. So she had as far as industry 
 went, and so far as paying the same devoted at- 
 tention as ever to the wants of her grandfather: 
 but in other respects Winifred was changed. The 
 iron of misfortune had penetrated deeply into her 
 soul, making a wound which could only be healed 
 in time if the circumstances of her life progressed 
 favourably, but which the slightest additional cala 
 mity would lay bare anew. That pensiteness 
 which had always characterized her counteni 
 bad now deepened : her cheeks, always pale, were 
 still more colourless than was their wont: a tear 
 more frequently glided forth from her soft blue 
 eye; and she had a slightly careworn look as if 
 having recovered from a recent illness. She spoke 
 less to Mrs. Slater, to her grandfather, or to whom- 
 soever else she was brought in contact with; and 
 her voice had a subdued and softly clouded tone, 
 as if it had grown accustomed to keep back si;>hs. 
 Indeed, it was impossible that any young female of 
 AVinnie's age could have gone through so much 
 without experiencing the lingering iniluence of 
 those dread misfortunes. 
 
 About three weeks had passed from the date of 
 the trial; and it was now the end of Novetuber, 
 One morning the post brought a letter, addressed 
 to Winifred in the well-known handwriting -of 
 Guetavus; and her countenance became animated 
 with joy. Be it recollected that she was utterly 
 ignorant of the attraction which had detained 
 Gustavus in Jamaica : she sia}ply believed that he 
 was waiting to obtain a passage as junior officer in 
 a ship to bring him to England. With trembling 
 hands she tore open the letter ; and the feelings 
 which she experienced on perusing it were of the 
 strongest and most conflicting description. In 
 that letter Gustavus told her how he had become 
 possessed of a treasure, consisting of gold ore and 
 dust worth about fourteen or fifteen thousand 
 pounds; and all this treasure her cousin had sent 
 home for the use of herself and her grandfather. 
 It had been shipped to her : she was to bo the 
 recipient of it : for Gustavus expressed his convic- 
 tion that she would use the little fortune in a 
 manner most conducive to the interests of their 
 venerable relative. Here was indeed joy for Wini- 
 fred ! She could scarcely believe her eyes — her 
 brain reeled — and she would have fainted had she 
 not exerted an almost preter-human power of self- 
 command in order that she might finish the 
 letter. 
 
 Then she went on to read how Gustavus had 
 received from Mr. Pinnock certain business offers 
 which would at once give him a good position, 
 with perhaps a prospect of partnership in the 
 worthy merchant's establishment ; and how there- 
 fore he had decided for the present upon remain- 
 ing altogether at Kingston. Gustavus in his letter 
 dwilt SLimewhat emphaiicilly upon having sent 
 over the tcliole of the treasure to his cousin and 
 grandfather; and the reader will comprehend the 
 motives which influenced him at the time he had 
 tbus written, when he was endeavouring to place 
 a salve upon his own conscience and quiet its 
 qualms on account of the perfid; of which be more 
 
 or less felt himself to be guilty towards Winifred, 
 But as Winnie now read this letter, she had not 
 the slightest suspicion of any sinister or hidden 
 design on the part of her cousin; and she there- 
 fore looked upon the transmission of the whole of 
 the treasure as a proof of his unchangeable good- 
 ness of heart. Winifred was likewise of far too 
 unselhsh a disposition not to be rejoiced at the 
 excellent prospects which Gustavus now had be- 
 fore him ; yet on the other hand she naturally felt 
 grieved at the idea that a lengthened period might 
 elapse ere sl.e again saw him. But then she said 
 to herself, " And yet perhaps it is all for the 
 better ! Of me be must not think again as he 
 may have been thinking! He will lind a bride 
 amongst the daughters of the rich planters of that 
 island, — one whom he will not be ashamed to 
 acknowledge as his wife, and against whom sus- 
 picion has never restad!" 
 
 It was a long time that morning before Wini- 
 fred Barrington could even so far compose her 
 feelings as to descend to Mrs. Slater's parlour and 
 show her kind friend the letter. Indeed its con* 
 tents were suflicient to upset the reason of that 
 poor girl, who at the time she received it was 
 working fur her bread, and who thus suddenly 
 found herself rich ; for the treasure had been sent 
 on board the same vessel which brought the letter, 
 and therefore it was already in England. At 
 length, ho^^ever, Winifred sought her good friend 
 Mrs. Slater; and when that worthy creature be- 
 came acquainted with its contents, she seemed as 
 if she could dance for joy. She instantaneously 
 insisted that Winifred should hasten away to the 
 prison and communicate the news to Mr. Bar- 
 rington : but Winnie had already made up her 
 mind to take the advice of her friends upon this 
 point. She saw that Gustavus must have had 
 strong motives in addressing the package to her- 
 self, and in so earnestly enjoining her to see that 
 its contents were disposed of in a manner most 
 beneficial to the old man ; and her naturally .^uick 
 intelligence had f itbomed those motives. 
 
 " No," she said to Mrs. Slater ; " I will not im- 
 mediately show my grandfather this letter. In 
 the 6rst place it contains a piece of intelligence 
 which must be broken delicately and by degrees 
 to one of his age and shattered nerves; and in 
 the second place, even if he survived the shock of 
 joy, he would be for instantaneously expending 
 this sum in the prosecution of the suit by which 
 he hopes to gain a far larger fortune. I will go 
 and consult Mr. Wardour." 
 
 Mrs. Slater recognised, when the exuberance of 
 her joy was past, the sound sense of this reason- 
 and it was agreed -that the affair should in 
 the meanwhile be kept a profound secret. Off 
 went Winifred to Mr. Wardour's chambers; and 
 she found that gentleman seated in his private 
 rootD, at a table covered with briefs and law-books, 
 all apparently in the most " admired disorder." 
 He received Winifred with kindness ; and he was 
 immediately struck by the animation which per- 
 vaded her countenance. She could not speak -she 
 was gasping for breath under the influence of her 
 varied feelings : but as she sank upon a seat, she 
 handed him the letter. 
 
 He took and read it ; and his own oountenaoce 
 speedily expanded with joy and satisfaction, 
 ng Winifred's hand, he pressed it in warmest
 
 196 
 
 5E8 ; OB, BBAUTT ASP FLEASCKI. 
 
 think ] 
 
 congratuUlion : and then h( 
 derstand, Miss Barrington, whr you have come to 
 consult me ; ami I k-t-l flittered. "We must sit 
 down and discuss the business ciilmly and quietly." 
 Wioifred could however, as the reader is already 
 aware, tell Mr. Wardour very little concerning her 
 t^randt'ather's aflfaira: she did not even know at 
 whose suit he was a prisoner, though she did not 
 think that it was Sir John Dalham himself who 
 had originally put him into gaol. Indeed, she was 
 |iretty sure that the cause ot his arrest a quarter 
 <>f a century back was in some way distinct from 
 
 " Well, my dear girl," said Mr. Wardour, " I 
 will institute private inquiries and ascertain what 
 ( can of the matter. 1 daresay that in the course 
 of a few days I shall be enabled to obtain a com- 
 plete insight into your grandfather's aSairs, so far 
 as the causes of his arrest and long detention are 
 concerned. In the meanwhile keep your own 
 secret; and when the package arrives from Liver- 
 pool, you can let me know. I will introduce you 
 to an honest dealer in bullion who will give you the 
 best price for your gold ; and we will then invest 
 the money in your name in the Bank of England, 
 until we decide how it is to be disposed of." 
 
 Winifred thanked Mr. Wardour for bis kind 
 advice; and she was rising to depart, when he 
 said, "You will not any longer work with your 
 needle, Winifred ? Tou had better let me become 
 your temporary banker for such funds as you may 
 require." 
 
 "Ob, no, sir !" she exclaimed : "and yet I thank 
 you for your kindness ! I shall make no altera* 
 tion in my mode of life ;— and perhaps indeed the 
 whole of that money will be required to release my 
 poor erandfather from prison '." 
 
 "Well, well," said Mr. Wardour, "we shall 
 see :" — and it was with a real paternal affection 
 that he shook her by the hand. 
 
 Winifred went forth from the barrister's cham- 
 bers; and returninsj to her own lodgings, she sat 
 down to her work — though she could not now 
 progress so rapidly as was her wont; for her heart 
 was full of joy at the idea that her old grand- 
 father might possibly be soon freed from impri- 
 sonment As for Mr. Wardour,— when Winifred 
 had left him, indeed just as the door was closing 
 behind her, he could not help ejaculating, " 
 rable giri ! you are truly one in a thousand 
 hundred and ninety-nine out of that thousand, 
 would have at once taken from me as much as I 
 thought fit to advance— and would have set off to 
 buy fine clothes and to enjoy a holiday. But i/au 
 return to your needle ; and j/ou are afraid even of 
 touching a shilling, lest tiiere should not be sulfi- 
 rient left to effect the liberation of your grand- 
 «ire !" 
 
 Three or four days passed, during which Wini- 
 fred's looks greatly improved. She lost that care- 
 worn aspect which recent misfortunes bad left 
 behind: her step grew lighter — the tone of her 
 voice more cheerful. She bad fully resigned her- 
 self to what she deemed the necessity of thinking 
 no more of Gustavus otherwise than as her very 
 dear cousin ; and resignation itself is mental placi- 
 dity. But she had real causes for happiness : the 
 prcspecis of Gustavus were excellent, according to 
 tbe fltatementa in his letter — and she herself pos- 
 sessed the means ot either releasing her grandsire 
 
 Admi- . 
 Nine 
 
 I from gaol, or at all events of surrounding him 
 ' with every comfurC and luxury for the remainder 
 ' of his life. 
 
 It was in the forenoon, a few days after Wini. 
 fred's interview with Mr. Wardour— and she wm 
 seated in her neatly furnished apartment, occupied 
 with the work which Agnes Evelyn had supplied 
 her. She was thinking of her grandfather and of 
 Gustavus,- wondering how long it would be be. 
 fore Mr. Wardour would ascertain anything defi- 
 nitive respecting tbe posiiiun of the old man's 
 affairs— wondering likewise whether her cousin 
 would ever return to his native land, and if so, 
 when she might expect to behold him again, — she 
 was thus engaged in profound reflection, we say, 
 when she beard a loud double knock at the front 
 door. It was given as if by one who was either 
 impatient or imperijus; aud therefore it startled 
 her somewhat. Then she beard tbe front door 
 open and shut ; and then tbe hasty footsteps of a 
 man were ascending the stairs. Who could this 
 be? ^~ot Mr. Dalham : hi» movements were alow 
 and even languid— but these steps were now ad- 
 vancing rapidly ! And they had passed the first 
 lauding : it was evidently towards Winifred's own 
 apartments that the visitor was coming! Could 
 it be Gustavus ? If o— utterly impossible ! How 
 absurd was the thought '. But the door opened — 
 and it was Gustavus who thus abruptly made hii 
 appearance ! 
 
 " Winifred — dearest Winifred !" 
 
 "Gustavus — dearest Gustavus!" 
 
 These were the ejaculations which burst forth 
 in a wild thrilling joy from the lips of the two 
 cousins; and the next mimeni they were clasped 
 in each other's arms. The tears streamed from 
 the eyes of both : their very happiness took the 
 semblance of a convulsing g..ef — for they sobbed 
 and gave vent to short, broken, unintelligible 
 ejaculations. Again and again did Gustavui 
 strain Winifred to his breast ; and Oh ! how her 
 heart throbbed and how her bosom palpitated a< 
 she received and gave back the fond fervid caresaei 
 that were lavished upon her ! So ineffable, ao 
 ecstatic, so all-absorbing was the delight expe. 
 rienced by this youthful pair, that they thought 
 not of anything beside the happiness of this meet- 
 ing and that they were restored to each other. 
 Gustavus forgot Emily Pinnock as completely afl 
 if he had never known her; and Winifred forgot 
 her vow to stifle her love for her cousin as com- 
 pletely as if she had never formed it ! 
 
 At length what may he termed the delirioaa 
 and almost frenzied violence of their joy began to 
 abate. Winifred disenjaged herself from her 
 cousin's embrace — but taking his hand, she held it 
 pressed between both her own, and she gaxed 
 upon him with all that fond interest which seeks 
 to assure itself that tbe countenance which two 
 years ago went away si hanlsome in its youthful 
 beauty, had come back unmarred by any of the 
 incidents through which the world-wide traveller 
 had passed. And it was with a similar feeling 
 that Gustavus contemplated Winifred ; and satis- 
 factory tD both was this survey. Both had grown 
 since the separation : the youth had become more 
 manly — the giri more womanly ; and tbe radiaooe 
 of joy rendered each countenance more attraetira 
 and interesting in tbe eyes of th? other. 
 
 Again they embraced; and then they sat down
 
 AOHKS; OB, BKAniY AND PLEiSUHK. 
 
 197 
 
 —but with their bands still fast locked, as if the; 
 
 feared that by the looseniQg of those hands they 
 
 might suddenly be separated again. But still 
 
 their hearts were too full to give utterance to 
 
 aoythiog beyond a few broken and tremulously 
 
 j murmured ejaculations of endearment; and still 
 
 i they continued to gaze upon each other as if 
 
 I asking whether it were really possible that they 
 
 were thus reunited, or whether it were all a 
 
 dream ? 
 
 It was a long time before their feelings grew 
 sufficiently composed for deliberate discourse. At 
 length Gustavus inquired concerning his old 
 grandsire ; and then he asked whether Winifred 
 had received his letter announcing the transmis- 
 sion of the treasure ? She replied that she had, 
 and that in the morning of this very same day she 
 had received an advice from Liverpool to the effect 
 that the case would be aiiuost immediately sent 
 off by luggage-train for London. Then there 
 was a pause in the discourse; for Gustavus knew 
 not how to commence any explanation of the 
 cause of his sudden arrival in England — and 
 Winifred knew not how to touch upon those re- 
 cent misfortunes which would compel ker likewise 
 to give explanations. And yet neither noticed 
 that there was any tincture of confusion or em- 
 barrassment in the mnnner of the other : it seemed 
 to each as if the joy of this meeting had again put a 
 seal upon the lips of the other, — a joy that was 
 too deep to find utterance in continuous discourse ! 
 At length Gustavus broke this silence by ex- 
 claiming, "Oh! my dearest, dearest Winifred, how 
 terribly you must have suffered! It was on the 
 tenth of November that I first read in the English 
 newspapers of the frightful occurrence. That 
 moment 1 departed from Jamaica, abandoning 
 friends— prospects— everything, in order to hasten 
 unto you !" 
 
 "Dearest Gustavus!— and you have done all 
 thia?" said Winifred, in a voice that was scarcely 
 audible, so clouded was it with emotions. " Oh, 
 you have sacrificed too much for my sake !" 
 
 " By heaven, darling AVinnie, I would have 
 sacrificed everything for your sake !— and I <Ud 
 sacrifice everything !" exclaimed the youth vehe- 
 mently ; but his words had a deeper meaning than 
 his cousin suspected or than she could even pos- 
 sibly dream of. " But no matter ! it was my duty 
 —and I have performed it ! Yes— not merely my 
 duty, but my inclination likewise !— for Oh ! nut 
 for worlds could I have abandoned you, my dear 
 Winnie, when such hideous circumstances en- 
 vironed you !" — and again he pressed her to bis 
 
 ny arms— to proclaim that I 
 ou again— but that hence- 
 have me with you as a da- 
 
 ' Ob, Gustavus 
 
 she 
 
 have believed me innocent — you must have 
 thought me still worthy of your generous interest, 
 to have done so much 1" 
 
 " Innocent 1" he ejaculated : " I knew that you 
 were innocent 1 I would have doubted an angel 
 from heaven if he had descended to tell me the 
 contrary ! But oh ! the horrible anguish I en- 
 dured for the first fortnight of the voyage home- 
 ward, until we met a ship from England :— and 
 then how inefidble was my joy when I read in the 
 Bewspapers with which the ship furnished us, that 
 you had been acquitted ! Then, dearest Winnie, 
 instead of excruciating impatience it was all 
 joyous impatience that 1 felt to reach my Ba.livo 
 
 land— to fold you 
 would never leav 
 forth you should t 
 fender and proteci 
 
 Winifred was weeping softly yet plenteously : 
 and now, with a sudden convulsing sob, she fal- 
 tered forth, " But you have not resigned all those 
 
 brilliant prospects -" 
 
 " I have resigned everything," ejaculated the 
 youth,— "yes, everything, everything! And oh I 
 let me never again think of Jamaica ! In a word, 
 let us not think of the past at all !— let us think 
 only of the present and the future!" 
 
 Winifred was indescribably touched by the con- 
 duct of her cousin. There was much to explain 
 relative to her own life since they bad parted two 
 years back, especially her connexion with Mrs. 
 Chicklade : but ho, without asking or awaiting 
 the slightest explanation, treated her as one who 
 could not bo otherwise than pure, innocent, and 
 immaculate : it was a blind confidence arising 
 from the most magnanimous generosity. And 
 Winifred, feeling that she was pure and chaste 
 despite the ordeals through which she had passed 
 — enjoying the consciousness of that virtue which 
 had been preserved to her, in the hour of despair 
 and temptation, by the generosity of Roderick 
 Dalham— was enabled to look her cousin in the 
 face while she reiterated her thanks for all the 
 noble saeritices which he had made upon her be- 
 half. Then she gradually merged into explana- 
 tions :— but can the reader blame her if she sup- 
 pressed something which there was indeed no 
 necessity to reveal ? She did not state the precise 
 truth in respect to the ring : she suffered Gustavus 
 to understand that in the bitterness of her poverty 
 she had sold that ring (o Mrs. Chicklade whom 
 she had accidentally met within the walls of the 
 prison. She did not therefore reveal how it was 
 that she had first encountered Roderick Dalham : 
 but this circumstance she likewise attributed to an 
 accident :— and then she expatiated fervidly upon 
 the delicate generosity of that gentleman in 
 supplying her with funds for the maintenance of 
 her grandsire. It was intelligible to Gustavua 
 why Winifred had maintained so perilous a re- 
 serve in respect to her defence when upon her 
 trial, from the fact of the absolute necessity of 
 suppressing everything that might cause the name 
 of Roderick Dalham to transpire. In a word, 
 Gustavus beheld everything that was consistent 
 and truthful in his cousin's narrative : he sus- 
 pected not for a moment that there was the 
 slightest suppression of facts or deviation from 
 the precise hue of sincerity : and he sighed in- 
 wardly as he thought that Jic was not enabled to 
 deal with equal candour and frankness towards 
 Winifred ! 
 
 " And now, my dearest cousin," he said, " X 
 must go and see our poor old grandsire. But ho 
 
 must be prepared to receive me And ah! when 
 
 I bethink me, I have a letter for him— a letter 
 from that strange gentleman, Mr. Hargrave, whom 
 I mentioned in my letter, you know, as the prin- 
 cipal author of the good fortune which overtook 
 me in respect to the treasure." 
 
 " Mr. Hargrave ?" said Winifred. " I never 
 heard our grandlather mention such s name, nor 
 state that he ever possessed such a triend or ac- 
 quaintance. This letter, therefore "
 
 198 
 
 AOITES; OB, BXAUTT AKD FLBASm. 
 
 "I knovr not what it contains," replied Gus- 
 tavus : " but I think it must be something impor- 
 tant ; f(.r Mr. Ilargriwo is not a man to trifle 
 awaj his time in writing letters of mere courtesj. 
 Besides, I knoiT from the consersations we had to- 
 gether that he was utterly unacquainted with our 
 
 grandfather Kowever, we shall soon see what 
 
 the nature of this communication is." 
 
 Winifred now explained to Gustavus the course 
 she had adopted in consulting Mr. Wardour re- 
 lative to old Mr. Barrington's affairs ; and the 
 youth highly approved of the proceeding — though 
 indeed he was in that jojous state of mind which 
 would have led him to approve of anything which 
 his cousin might have done. And now worthy 
 Mrs. Slater was informed of the return of Gus- 
 tavus; and warm were tho expressions of gratitude 
 which the youth poured forth to that excellent 
 friend whom his cousin Winnie had found so 
 stanch and true in the time of her trouble. 
 
 The two cousins set off towards Whitecross 
 Street; and on reaching the prison Gustavus re- 
 maiaed in the lobby while Winifred entered to 
 seek her grandfather and break to him gradually 
 the fact of his grandson's return to England. 
 We need not dwell upon this portion of our nar- 
 rative : sufljco it to say that Winifred conducted 
 the proceeding with all suitable delicacy— and that 
 the old man, being duty prepared, was conducted 
 to tho private room adjoining the lobby, where he 
 was speedily folded in tho arms of his grandson. 
 The joy of Mr. Barrington took as childisu a com- 
 plexion as whfen he embraced Winifred after her 
 acquittal. He whimpered and sobbed ; and he 
 overwhelmed the youth with a thousand questions, 
 interjecting numberless comments upon the pro- 
 gress of his own lawsuit, and assuring his two 
 grandchildren over and over again that they 
 should shortly ride in their carriage. After a 
 while Gustavus produced tho letter which had 
 been confided to him by Mr. Hargrave, — accom- 
 panying the proceedings with a few brief explana- 
 tions of how it came into his hand, 
 
 " Bead it— read it, my dear boy," said the oVl 
 man nervously. " It is perhaps some friend who is 
 sending me important information to be embodied 
 in an affidavit j and if so, we must have Timperley 
 here at once." 
 
 " Stop, my dear grandfather ! — not so fast !" 
 interrupted Gustavus, with a good-hlimoured tone 
 and smile. " Let us first see what Mr. Hargrave 
 eaya." 
 
 "Yes, yes— read it," said the old man, with 
 
 Gustavus accordingly opened the letter ; and he 
 read its contents, which ran at follow : — 
 
 " Mr. Barrington will pardon a complete stranger 
 for venturing to proffer his advice on a certain 
 point ; but this advice which he has to give, is so 
 vitally important to Mr. Barrington's interests that 
 Mr. Hargrave feels it a boundenduty to lose no 
 time in affording it. Besides, Mr. Hargrave has 
 experienced so deep an interest in Mr. Barring- 
 ton's chivalrous-rainded and high-souled grandson 
 Gustavus, that it is impossiijie to feel otherwise 
 than interested also in every one connected with 
 thiit upright, virtuous youth. But now to the 
 point. If the ntlurnoy to whom Mr. BiiiTioglon's 
 affairs are entrusted, he that same ilr. Timperley 
 
 who many years back was a clerk in the employ- 
 raent of Mr. Joshua Waldron of Lincoln's Inn 
 Fields— then that Mr. Timperley is a villain cf 
 the blackest dye. There is no duplicity, treachery, 
 deceit, or wickedness of which he is not capable. 
 Mr. Hargrave is no traducer nor scandalisor : nor 
 would he for the world speak without just grounds 
 for the strong aspersion which he thus throws 
 upon the character of that man. Let Mr. Bar- 
 rington beware ! 
 
 " Mr. Hargrave earnestly entreats that this 
 letter may be thrown into the fire the moment it 
 shall have been read. He also begs that in what. 
 soever course Mr. Barrington may adopt towards 
 Mr. Timperley, no syllable of allusion may be 
 made to the source whence the warning has ema- 
 nated. In a word, Mr, Hargrave is inspired only 
 by the feelings of friendship and duty in the mea- 
 sure which he is now taking ; and ho therefore 
 relies upon Mr, Barrington's honour for inviolable 
 secrecy on the points where silence is enjoined." 
 
 Such were the contents of the letier which Gus- 
 tavus read aloud to his grandfather and Winifred. 
 Consternation seized upon the young couple when 
 the villanous character of Timperley was so boldly 
 proclaimed : but a terrible excitement took posses- 
 sion of the old man. 
 
 " Timperley a villain ?" he cried, wringing his 
 hands; " and I so completely in his power ! But 
 
 " It is ! it is !" exclaimed Gustavus : " I am 
 convinced that Mr. Hargrave is incapable of 
 stating an untruth! Ah! now I remember, he 
 once or twice spoke with exceeding bitterness of 
 
 " Do not give way to grief, dear grandfather," 
 said Winifred, throwing her arms about tho old 
 man's neck. "I have not told you before- but 
 there is a kind friend at work for you— Mr. War- 
 dour I mean— his attorneys are respectable— and 
 now that you must at once break off with Mr. 
 Timperley, you shall see those lawyers— you shall 
 see Mr. Wardour— and they will advise jou how to 
 proceed." 
 
 While Winifred was thus speaking, with her 
 arms folded about the old man's neok and her 
 plump youthful cheek resting against his wrinkled, 
 almost ileshlesa face, many thoughts came trooping 
 in unto his mind. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he said, in tho nervous querulous 
 voice with which old age expresses its excited feel- 
 ings ; "it is so! it must be so! Timperley is a 
 villain ! For years and years has the suit dragged 
 on !— for eighteen years it has been in his hands ! 
 I have always told him his affidavits were not 
 strong enough— delays which never ought to have 
 occurred were constantly arising — sometimes the 
 counsel he employed was ill — at other times he 
 broke down for want of facts which ought to have 
 been supplied ! Yes, yes — I see it all ! I have 
 been betrayed — sold — kept here like a felon to rot 
 for a lifetime in gaol— crushed— trampled upon 
 -Oh, my Gjd ! it is fearful 1" 
 
 And if all Ibis were fearful, so was the exoito. 
 ment of the old man as he rose from his scat and 
 paced to and fro in the apartment, — at one mo- 
 ment aobbiug and whimpering, then beating bis 
 breast or wringing his hands, and giving vent to 
 vehement ejaculations. The affnotionate grand-
 
 AGKE3; OB, BEiOir AND PLEASUEE. 
 
 199 
 
 children experienced the greatest difficulty in tran- 
 quillizing their aged relative : but at length they 
 Bucceeded, though only by dint of the solemn pro- 
 mise that they would go off to Mr. Wardour and 
 consult him in respect to the best means of getting 
 rid of Mr. limpcrley without delay. They accord- 
 ingly departed for this purpose : but before they 
 left the room where this scene took place, Gus- 
 tavus threw Mr. Hargrare's letter into the fire 
 which was burning there. 
 
 This matter was accordingly put into an imme- 
 diale train for final arrangement, under the auspices 
 of Mr. Wardour, who introduced the two cousins 
 to the eminent firm of Chancery solicitors into 
 whose hands hn ricummenJed that the business 
 should be transferred ; and it was an understood 
 thing that Mr. Timperley should be called upon to 
 give up without delay all the papers and docu- 
 ments in his possession connected with the case of 
 " Harrington v. Dalham.'* The new solicitors un- 
 dertook to setllo Mr. Timperley's bill of costs, if 
 he should venture to send in such an account, he 
 having all along agreed to conduct the suit as a 
 matter of speculation, himself to be paid only in 
 the eventuality of success: for the reader has al- 
 ready seen that he could very well afford to make 
 such a compact, inasmuch as he was better paid 
 by Sir John Dalham to protract the suit than he 
 could possibly have been by Mr. Barrington for 
 bringing it to a close. 
 
 Having transacted their business according to 
 the promise made to their grandfather, the two 
 cousins proceeded to report the issue to the old 
 man — with whom they dined in the prison ; for 
 this was a gala-day to celebrate the return of 
 Gustavus, and Winifred took care that the festival 
 ahould be a bounteous one. On leaving the prison 
 at about five o'clock in the afternoon, the cousins 
 returned to Mrs. Slater's house, to inquire if the 
 package containing the treasure had arrived ? — 
 and they received a negative answer. Gustavus 
 at once suggested that as the package was to come 
 by the luggage-train, according to the advice which 
 Winifred had received from the shipping-agents at 
 Liverpool, it might be a considerable time on the 
 way ; and on its arrival in London it cttight remain 
 for awhile at the terminus before the carriers' ; 
 waggon would bring it down to Aldetsgale Street. 
 TLerefore, all things considered, it was plain they 
 could not well expect it until the morrow. 
 
 Gustavus had now to seek out a lodging for 
 himself, as his sense of delicacy told him that he 
 could not with propriety dwell beneath the same 
 roof with Winifred ; and moreover Mrs. Slater 
 hod really no accommodation for him. But a 
 lodging was soon found in the same street, and at 
 that worthy woman's recommendation ; so that 
 this little matter was quickly settled. And now, 
 on that evening, while sealed together, Gustavus 
 began to broach to his cousin a subject on which 
 bis mind was bent and his resolve taken. 
 
 " I am restored to you, dearest Winifred," he 
 eaid, pressing her hand fondly and gazing tenderly 
 upon her countenance : " I am ccme to be your 
 defender and your protector, that you shall no 
 longer be alone in the world, to encounter its 
 penis and to bo the victim of its calamities. 
 Whatever misery as well as whatever happiness 
 there may be in etore for us, we shall share to- 
 gether " 
 
 I " No, dearest Gustavus," replied Winifred, 
 ! gently disengaging her hand, and bending down 
 ; her looks, over which an expression of anguish 
 flitted ; " it must not be ! To you am I as a 
 ■ sister : to me you are as a very dear brother 1" 
 j " Winifred !" ejaculated the youth, smitten with 
 surprise and grief at a straiji of language which 
 I he had so little expected from her lips : " what 
 , mean you ? — why cannot this be ?" j 
 
 '* Because — because," replied the weeping girl, | 
 ' shuddering as if all the ice-chill of December which | 
 prevailed out of doors, had suddenly concentrated 
 its bitterness to smite her to the very heart's core, 
 — " because, Gustavus, I have been in a prison^ 
 my name ia rendered notorious— and though ao- 
 quited, yet there may be some— My God! it is 
 possible ! — who believe me guilty !" 
 
 A convulsive sob for an instant choked her ut- 
 terance ; and Gustavus was about to break in with 
 vehement ejaculations, when she placed her finger 
 upon his lip and said, " Hear me, my dear cousin 
 — hear me, I beseech you ! This that you demand 
 must not be. Whoever passes through the ordeal 
 of a felons' gaol, although subsequently proven in- 
 nocent, nevertheless has a taint upon the reputa- 
 tion which no jury's verdict nor judicial decision 
 can ever wipe away." 
 
 " Winifred, you are driving me mad !" ex- 
 claimed Gustavus vehemently. " But answer me, 
 my sweet cousin," he said, suddenly assuming a 
 milder manner and a softer tone, for he saw that 
 he had affrighted her : " tell me, Winifred— do 
 you love me r"" 
 
 " Ob, God knows how deeply and how fondly I 
 love you, Gustavus I" she replied, clasping her 
 hands in anguish at the thought that happiness 
 was within her reach, and yet that she dared not 
 
 " Oh, you love me !— thank heaven that you ] 
 love me I" exclaimed the youth : "but yet I never ' 
 doubted it! You shall be mine, Winifred !— you 
 cannot refuse to bestow your hand upon one who 
 has made every species of sacrifice for you !" — 
 and here a ghastly expression of remorseful an- 
 guish for a moment swept over his countenance : 
 hut Winifred observed it not, for at the time her 
 looks were bent downwards— a violent struggle 
 was taking place within her. | 
 
 '* Gustavus," she at length said, in a low deep 
 
 voice, " I had intended it should be otherwise 
 
 but after all you have done— after the sacrifices 
 you have made on my behalf — ' — you have a right 
 to command and I obey !" 
 
 A wild cry of joy burst from the youth's lips; 
 and the image of Emily Pinnock, which for a mo- 
 ment had risen up before his mental vision, was I 
 again forgotten in the fulness of his present hap- ! 
 piness. He strained his cousin to his breast ; and 
 as Winifred's head reposed upon his shoulder, she 
 said, '* But are you sure, Gustavus, that the day j 
 can never, ncvi^r come when you will repent of 
 this ? Suppose that our grandsire should become 
 rich, and that he should leave us wealthy — will 
 not your spirit be cliafed and -iour suul be galled 
 if you see the world looking coldly on your 
 wife?" 
 
 " Coldly ? it is impossible !" ejaculated Gus- 
 tavus. "You are innocent, Winifred— and thai 
 is sufllciont ! If the world look coldly upon an 
 innocent person, the sooner we renounce such a ; 
 
 i
 
 AOXES; OK, EEACIT A5D PLKAStTBB. 
 
 world and truat to our own domestic hearth on/y 
 for bappLoeEs, the better ! You shall be miDe ! 
 —and with the least possible delay efaall I ac* 
 quite a legal right to defend and protect jou !" 
 
 Could Winifred offer a remonstrance against 
 her cousin's generous purpose r could she refuse 
 her assent to become his wife ? ^o ! — such a 
 course on her part would have been contrary to 
 human nature; and she was but a mere mortal 
 after all. 
 
 On the following day, at about one o'clock, the 
 cousins repaired to the prison ; and Gustavus re- 
 quested the grandfather's assent to his union with 
 ■Winifred. Now for the first time a hint was 
 dropped to the old man that there was some little 
 ready money to which the family couIQ look as a 
 resource, and which Gustavus had obtained in Ja- 
 maica. To be brief, Mr. Barrington cheerfully 
 gare bis assent to the marriage of his grand- 
 children : indeed, the poor old man was in many 
 respects well-nigh childish — and be would have 
 refused his assent to nothing which tbey might ask 
 of him, so long as their demands did not touch 
 upon his stubborn notions with regard to his law- 
 
 Gustavus and Winifred remained with their 
 grandfather until about five o'clock, when they 
 took leave of him. As they were about to issue 
 from the prison, the turnkey at the outer gate 
 said to Winifred, " I think, iliss, you will 6nd a 
 young lady waiting for you at your lodgings when 
 you get back." 
 
 "Indeed!" ejaculated Winnie. "Why do you 
 think so ?" 
 
 " I will tell yon," answered the turnkey. " It 
 was just about one o'clock— was it not ? when you 
 and ilr. Gustavus came this afternoon. Well 
 then, it must have been about half-past one that 
 a young lady came to the gate " 
 
 "Please to describe her," said Winifred, with a 
 faint suspicion that it might possibly be Agnes 
 Evelynwbo had called for some benevolent purpose 
 
 " That would be rather diifi:ult, iliss," rejoined 
 the turnkey; "for she bad a very thick veil over 
 her face; so that in plain terms I couldn't so 
 much as catch the least glimpse of her counte- 
 nance. But she had a very pleasant voice— she 
 put three or four questions to me about Mr. Bar- 
 rington— she evidently knew everything concern- 
 ing his long imprisonment. I told her that ymi, 
 Mr. Gustavus, bad just returned home from 
 abroad ; and I said that in point of fact you were 
 both at that moment with your grandfather, and 
 that Tou were likely to remain inside the walls till 
 five o'clock." 
 
 " And what did the young lady aay P" inq-jired 
 Winifred. 
 
 " She said she should like to see you, Miss," 
 continued ibe turnkey; " but she would lot suffer 
 you to be disturbed while you were with your 
 grandfather. She asked me where you lodged ; 1 
 told her— and she declared her intention ot going 
 and waiting fur you at your apartments. She 
 expressly desired that no intimation of her visit to 
 the prison should be made to either of you in the 
 meanwhile; and so I did not think it necessary to 
 •end in word that the young lady had been. But 
 I suppose you will find her at your lodgings " 
 
 " How do you know that she is young ?" in- 
 quired Winifred. 
 
 ] " Trust me to tell that much by a woman's 
 figure and voice !" responde i the turnkey, with a 
 smile. " Well, as I was about to say, the young 
 lady thanked me for my civiiity, and tripped 
 lightly away." 
 I " It is doubtless Miss Evelyn," said Winifred to 
 ! her cousin, as they proceeded along the street. 
 I " And yet it is strange that she should have io- 
 I quired my address ; for her housekeeper Eachel has 
 
 " Miss Evelyn may have forgotten it," answered 
 Gustavus ; " and that perhaps is the very reasea 
 I why she called at the prison." 
 
 "Oh! if it should be Miss Evelyn," exclaimed 
 Winifred, " I shall be so annoyed to think of her 
 being kept waiting for nearly four mortal hoars at 
 my lodgings ! I will hasten home as quick as erer 
 I can." I 
 
 Gustavus conducted Winifred to the door of I 
 Mrs. Slater's house, where he left her, as he did I 
 not think it proper to intrude upon the interview 
 which might be about to take place between bis | 
 cousin and Miss Evelyn, or whosoever the visitresi \ 
 should be. Immediately on entering, Winifreii | 
 said to the servant of the lodging.houae, " Is ! 
 there a lady waiting for me, Mary ?" ] 
 
 " A lady has called. Miss— but she is not wait- 
 ing," responded the servant-maid. 
 
 " Who was she .' and what did she say ?" in- 
 quired Winifred hastily. 
 
 "I don't know who she was. Miss: she gave 
 no name— but she seemed to know you very well, 
 and all about you, as well as your grandfatbit 
 and Mr. Gustavus. She spoke very kindly ** 
 
 " Did you see her face ? ' asked Winifred. 
 
 " yo, Miss," rejoined Mary : " she wore a thick 
 dark veil " 
 
 " And she left no message P" demanded Wini- 
 fred. 
 
 " I was going to tell you. Miss. She first asked I 
 if you were at home ; and when I said you were 
 not, she observed that she thought so, as she had 
 reason to believe that you were at the prison. 
 Then she said she would sit down in your room 
 and wait till your return. I told her it was likely 
 you would not be in till five ; and 1 offered to run 
 and fetch you. She said she did not mind wait- 
 ing, and that I was by no means to disturb you 
 while you were with your grandfather. So I 
 showed her up to your room ; and there she sat 
 down. But in about ten minutes I heard her 
 descending the stairs — she told mo she bed 
 changed her mind — she would not wait, but that 
 she would call again to-morrow at one o'clock 
 punctually." 
 
 Winifred thought that it must be either Miss 
 Evelyn, or else some lady who on the recommen- 
 dation of Agnes had come with a benevolent in- 
 tention of giving her work. She therefore resolved, 
 to be at home on the morrow to receiye the visit- 
 ress, whoever she might be, at one o'clock. Gus- 
 tavus returned shortly after six to Uke his lea 
 with Winifred; and as the case containing the 
 treasure had not as yet been delivered, they re- 
 solved to repair to the railway station in the 
 morning to make inquiries for it. 
 
 At nine o'clock on the following day Gustavus 
 arrived to breakfast with Winilred ; and when Ibe 
 repast was finished, they prepared to set off to the | 
 station in Euston Square. i
 
 JOSEPHIXE 
 
 ' Ej the bye, Winnie, you had better take with 
 you the letter of advice which you received from 
 the agents at Liverpool," said Guatavus ; " for it 
 will establish your identity as the person who 
 alone has a right to receive the package." 
 
 Winifred accordingly looked in her workbox 
 for the letter which she had deposited there : but 
 it was not to be found. She searched elsewhere : 
 still no letter was to be discovered. She grew 
 frightened, and began blaming herself for care- 
 lessness in having perhaps left it lying about, in- 
 stead of placing it, as she thought, in her workbox : 
 but Gustavus reassured her by exclaiming, " It is 
 of little consequence, Winnie. Your identity is 
 easily established in case of need ; and moreover I 
 can prove that I was the person who through Mr. 
 Pinnock'a agency consigned the case to your name 
 in London." 
 
 The cousins accordingly took a cab : and they 
 proceeded to Euston Square. On making an in- 
 No. 26. — AasES. 
 
 the 
 
 I quiry of the first official whom they me 
 ' railway-station, they were referred to a clerk ia 
 the Goods' Department. This place was so little 
 accessible to females, encumbered with merchandise 
 as it was, that Gustavus left Winifred on the pas- 
 sengers' platform while he went to prosecute tho 
 inquiry. On finding the clerk whom he sought, 
 he said, " I have called about a case which ought 
 to have arrived from Liverpool yesterday or the 
 day before, directed to Miss Barrington, No. — , 
 Ai'dersgate Street." 
 
 " I recollect somet'uiog about that case," replied 
 the clerk, turning over the leaves of a book in a 
 quick business-like manner. " Barrington you 
 say was the name ? Is it Winifred Barrington ?" 
 
 "The very same," responded Gustavus. 
 
 "Well then, it's all right," continued the clerk: 
 "here's the signature in the books— and the case 
 was fetched away yesterday afternoon." 
 
 " What ?" ejaculated Oustavus, in surpvise
 
 202 
 
 AallEB; OB, BKA.UTT AND PLBISDBE. 
 
 There must be some 
 
 miogled with 
 
 " No mistake, sir, I can assure you," replied 
 the clerk. " I nosv recollect perfectlv ! — the young 
 lady showed me the letter of advice " 
 
 "Good heavens !" exclaimed Gustayus : " tUo 
 letter of advice ?'* 
 
 "Yes, sir. But I hope there's nothing wrong : 
 for though the case seems to have been shipped 
 from Jamaica as containing pickles, it was in 
 reality a box of gold dust— as the Custom House 
 officers discovered at Liverpool. But it was 
 cleared by the agents, and all charges were paid 
 You look ill, sir f" 
 
 "III?" repeated Gustavus, with a bewildered 
 vacancy; and he felt that bis brain was reeling. 
 
 " I hope to God there is nothing wrong ?" again 
 said the clerk, now looking frightened. " Ilere is 
 the signature — it was a dusky young lady — very 
 handsome " 
 
 " Ah !" gasped Gustavus : for at the same mo- 
 ment that this description was given of her, his 
 eye settled upon the signature of Winifred Bar- 
 rington in the book which the clerk presented to 
 him, and he recognised the handwriting only too 
 well ! 
 
 " Really, air, you begin to alarm me most seri- 
 ously," said tho clerk. " It is quite evident " 
 
 "Ko, no — do not be alarmed!" interrupted 
 Gustavus, with a preterhuman effort regaining 
 somewhat of his lost self-possession. " I see that 
 it is all right. Do you know where the lady 
 lives ?" 
 
 " Ob, yes— to be sure ! It is in the book 
 there " 
 
 " Ah ! certainly ! I quite forgot ! Aldersgate 
 Street, of course ! Pray forgive me for the trouble 
 I have occasioned— but it is a family matter " 
 
 " Well, sir," exclaimed the clerk, in haste to 
 get about some other business, " as long as there's 
 nothing wrong so far as we are concerned " 
 
 "Oh, nothing, nothing'— I can assure you!" 
 rejoined Gustavus : and lil;e a drunken men he 
 reeled away. 
 
 He speedily encountered Winifred on the plat 
 form where he had left her ; and she was at onci 
 struck by his altered appearance; for bis counte- 
 nance was haggard and ghastly to a degree. The 
 very natural idea that emote her was that some- 
 thing had occurred in respect to the treasure ; and 
 smitten with commiseration on he 
 count, she said emphaticiilly, " ^ 
 happened, dear Gustavus, do not give way to de- 
 spair !" 
 
 He tried to speak — but he could afford utterance 
 
 to nothing intelligible : he merely gasped forth a 
 
 few inarticulate sounds ; for there was madness in 
 
 bis brain and sickness in his heart. Giving his 
 
 f arm to 'Wioifred, he hurried her out of the station, 
 
 not help perceiving that something bad happened. 
 
 Gustavus threw himself back in the vehicle, as 
 if utterly crushed by the tremendous sense of 
 calamity ; and Winifred, seeing that it was of no 
 use to question him, said to tho driver, " Back to 
 Aldersgate Street." 
 
 The cab rolled away ; and Winifred drew down 
 the blinds— for Gustavus was now sobbing and 
 weeping bitterly. That the treasure was lost, 
 
 Winnie felt only too well persuaded ; and think- 
 ing that it was this— and this alone — which bo 
 affected her cousin, she entreated him to be com- 
 forted. 
 
 " It is only for our poor grandfather's sake that 
 t myself am distressed," said "Winifred : " for to 
 me it is just the same to work for my bread in 
 future as I have hitherto done. And you, Gus- 
 tavus, are young — and there are plenty of situa- 
 tions which you can obtain " 
 
 " Oh, Winifred dearest !" he murmured ; " you 
 know not how wretched I am!" — and he literally 
 wrung his hands in despair. 
 
 "For God's sake compose yourself, Gustavus!" 
 she said. " Surely, surely all hope need not be 
 abandoned? The police-authorities may be ap- 
 pealed to " 
 
 "No, no— it is useless !" he vehemently ejacu- 
 lated. " A vile trick has been played us " 
 
 " Ah ! perhaps that letter which was lost in my 
 room," said Winnie, now thinking that after all 
 the blame would redound upon herself, " is in 
 some way connected " 
 
 " No, no— do not in any sense yield to self-re- 
 proach !" said Gustavus. '' Look you, dear Win- 
 nie!" he continued, seeing the absolute necessity 
 of exercising a mastery over his emotions, lest be 
 should suddenly let fall from his lips some word 
 that would excite suspicion. "There b a deep 
 mystery in all this — for the present we must say- 
 nothing about it — not even to Mrs. Slater nor to 
 
 Mr- Wardour and thank GJod, our grand- 
 
 father knows naught concerning it ! But the 
 railway authorities will investigate " 
 
 " Then there i» still hope !" interjected Wini- 
 fred : " and you, my dear cousin, must not despair. 
 Do you know that for an instant I was wonder- 
 ing whether the visit of that young lady yesterday 
 could have anything to do with the matter — 
 especially as she was alone in my room for a 
 little while — and I am almost convinced I saw 
 that letter safe in my workbox in the forenoon 
 yesterday." 
 
 "Nothing can be more likely!" ejaculated Gus- 
 tavus, catching at an idea which had just slruok 
 him — or rather suddenly resolving upon a parti- 
 cular plan to be carried out. "Unprincipled 
 people are full of all kinds of wicked devices in 
 London " 
 
 " Ah ! if I thought there was any wickedness 
 in that strange visit yesterday," said Winifred, 
 " how truly distressed should I be that I left t!ie 
 letter in my unlocked workbox." 
 
 "Again I conjure you not to reproach your- 
 self," interrupted Gustavus. "I tell vou what 
 we must do. But will you be entirely guided 
 by me ?" 
 
 " Ob, yes, Gustavus ! Can you doubt it ?" asked 
 Winifred affectionately. 
 
 " These sorts of robberies," he continued, " are 
 often perpetrated with the hope of obtaining a 
 good large sum for the restoration of tho stolen 
 property : because it is scarcely probable that the 
 thieves in the present instance could go and dis- 
 pose of their plunder. Well, then, if for argu- 
 ment's sake that lady should call again for tlie 
 more I think of it, the more I am convinced she 
 xoas an accomplice in the villanou3 transaction, as 
 
 the disappearance of the letter proves lot ma 
 
 be at your lodgings to receive her. If she shouH
 
 OE, BEAUTT . 
 
 PtEAStJHE. 
 
 ■203 
 
 reallj be either Miss Eveljn or any other Udj on 
 legitimate business, I can apologize for your ab- 
 sence — I can state that I am your cousin — and I 
 can send and fetch you." 
 
 So great had been the grief of Gustavus that 
 Winilred was ready and willing to do anything 
 she could to tranquillize his mind ; and she was 
 moreover so much unnerved herself that she did 
 not perceive the somewhat absurd sophistry of his 
 reasoning. Therefore, so soon as they reached 
 A-ldersgate Street, she suffered him to escort her 
 <the cab being dismissed) as far as Whitecross Street 
 Prison; and he left her with an injunction that 
 she waa to remain there until he either sent for 
 her or came to rejoin her. They tbus tempo- 
 rarily separated ; and Gustavus proceeded to Mrs 
 S]ater*3 : for it was now verging towards one o'clucli: 
 — the hour when liio veiled voung lady had said 
 she would repeat her visit. 
 
 On entering the lodging- house, Gustavus said 
 to the maid-servant, " If that young lady who 
 called yesterday, should come again, she may 
 doubtless ask for my cousin. Request her at once 
 to walk up-stairs— do not say that Miss Barring- 
 ton is out— and do not mention my name. I 
 know what it all means— it is a little matter which 
 requires to be conducted thus carefully.'^ 
 
 Mary promised compliance ; and Gustavus as- 
 eended to his cousin's apartment. It would be 
 impossible to describe the agony of mind expe- 
 rienced by this wretched young man. Emily 
 Pionock was in London !— she was evidently 
 armed with terribly resolute purposes; for she 
 bad already been at work with a fatal activity ; 
 and that she now meant to reveal everything to 
 Winifred, was only tuo apparent ! Gustavus 
 walked to and fro in his cousin's room, at one 
 time like a lion chatiog in his cage — at another 
 like a despairing wretch who was on the point of 
 being dragged forth to the place of execution. At 
 one moment his countenance was flushed with a 
 vivid fever-heat : then his face became ghastly and 
 his features all distorted. Thus half an-hour 
 passed : some adjacent church clock struck one— 
 and then a double knock resounded through the 
 house. Gustavus heard the front door open and 
 shut : then his ears caught the tre-id of female 
 footsteps, accompanied by the rustling of gar- 
 ments, ascending the stairs ;— and then those 
 steps ceased just outside the door of the room. 
 
 That door was opened ; and a form, well known 
 thou;;h closely veiled, entered the apartment. 
 
 "Ah! is it jou ?" ejaculated Emily Pinnock, 
 in a low half-suppressed tone : and glancing round 
 to assure herself that the maid-servant had re- 
 tired, she threw back the veil from her counte- 
 nance of dusky beauty. 
 
 CHAPIES xx:civ. 
 
 THE QUADROOS IS LO::fDOS. 
 
 Emily Pisxock had left Kingston in a steam- 
 packet which started on the second day after the 
 departure of the one in. which Gustavus was a 
 passenger : but inasmuch as the former was some- 
 what swifter than the other, it reached Liverpool 
 pool but a few hours later than the rival vessel 
 
 She quickly ascertained — from some remarks 
 j which caught her ear in respect to the mail- 
 I steamer which brought Gustavus— that she was 
 I thus close upon his track ; and as there were seve- 
 ral Transatlantic packets unloading at the time, 
 she looked about to see if by any possibility she 
 could discover him. While thus engaged, she 
 caught sight of a package which she full well re- 
 I cognised ; for she herself had helped Gustavus to 
 , stow the box of gold therein, instead of the jars 
 of pickles and preserves which it was supposed at 
 Mount Pleasant had been bought for that pur- 
 purpose. She could not see the direction upon it 
 i as it happened to be turned downward : neither 
 I did she exactly remember what address Gu.itavus 
 had written on it at the time : but she knew that 
 old Mr. Sarrington was in Whitecross Street 
 Prison ; and thus she felt sure that on her arrival 
 in London she should be enabled to find a clue to 
 the whereabouts of her perfidious fugitive lover. 
 When she thus caugtit sight of the package, no 
 ulterior idea entered her mind ; and if she con- 
 templated it attentively for a few minutes, it was 
 only because it was something which was so in- 
 i timately associated with the faithless one whom 
 she had come to seek. 
 
 Not perceiving Gustavus anywhere about, s'.ie 
 I was even angry with herself at having for a mo- 
 ment yielded to the idea that he might be still ia 
 Liverpool. 
 
 "No, no!" she said bitterly to herself: "he is 
 I on his road to see and console his Winifred, who 
 will now become all the more dear to him since 
 J she is acquitted !" — for the intelligence of the 
 I trial's result had already been made known to 
 Emily Pinnock, in a way simitar to that by 
 j means of which Gustavus himself had obtained 
 the knowledge while yet upon the high sea. 
 
 The beautiful quadroon now determined to pro- 
 j ceed to London ; and having made inquiries rela- 
 I tive to the trains, she repaired to the railway- 
 station. Tills was the first time she had ever been 
 in England: everything was therefore completely 
 novel to her in this country : but her demeanour 
 was such as to lead a stranger to suppose that she 
 was labouring not under the slightest embarrass- 
 ment or feeling of awkwardness, but that she was 
 perfectly well acquainted with English customs, 
 circumstances, and afi'airs. She had all her self- 
 possessicn about her; and as she was anxious to 
 ' avoid the proffer of assistance or advice on the 
 1 part of strangers, she was careful to assume a 
 mien best calculated to repel any such overture. 
 ; Now, it happened that in her anxiety to be in 
 full time for the train, she was a good half-hour 
 beforehand ; and thus she had ample time to sur- 
 vey the station, and watc!i the progress of all those 
 gigantic and bustling ar.Mnjcnients which are as- 
 sociated with railways. While thus looking about 
 her, Emily was suddenly called upon to stand out 
 I of the way while a large wain, laden with pack- 
 ages of all descriptions, drew up at a particular 
 spot to be unloaded. As Emily watched the pro- 
 cesj of rapidly discharging that waggon of its con- 
 tents, she c:.ught sight uf the well-known case 
 which contained the treasure of ore and gold-dust. 
 At that moment a young man, with the air and 
 bustling habits of a clerk, came hastening to the 
 spot were the w..ggon was being unloaded ; and 
 seeing the gv\ard of a train standing near, he m-
 
 201 
 
 iOHES; OK, BBACIT AND PIEASCBB. 
 
 quired, " Do you belong to the luggage. train that 
 is going to take all these goods ?" 
 
 "Yes," was the reply. 
 
 " Then have the kindness to keep a special eye 
 on this case," said tho young man, whom we may 
 as well observe was a clerk to the shipping agents 
 to whose care the case had been consigned by Mr. 
 Pinnock. " We have abeady written to advise 
 the party in London of its arrival at Liverpool, 
 and that it would be sent on with the least pos- 
 sible delay : but you had better tell your people at 
 Euston Square that the case is only to be given up 
 to the party on our letter being shown : for, I re- 
 peat, it is important to be careful in this matter." 
 
 " I will attend to it," answered the guard of the 
 luggage-train. " I suppose that the caso con- 
 tains " 
 
 " Hush ! no matter !" said the clerk : and then 
 he whispered something in the guard's ear. 
 
 But at this moment the bell rang as a summons 
 for the passenger-train which was about to start ; 
 and Emily Pinnock hastened to take her seat in a 
 first-class carrriage. There were some other lady- 
 travellers in the same compartment : but Emily 
 maintained a most reserved silence throughout the 
 journey ; for she had read of the numerous stra- 
 tagems, tricks, and devices by which unprincipled 
 persons, with fair-seeming exteriors, entrapped 
 the unwary in England ; and she was resolved to 
 be constantly on her guard. 
 
 It was about two o'clock in the afternoon when 
 Emily Pinnock reached the great metropolis. She 
 had already learnt, at the hotel where she tem- 
 porarily stopped at Liverpool, the address of a re- 
 respectable family-hotel in London ; and taking a 
 cab at the station, she ordered the driver to pro- 
 ceed thither. In about twenty minutes the cab 
 -cached the hotsl; and Emily alighted. A couple 
 of idle street-boys who were loitering near— ob- 
 serving the quadroon's dusky complexion, and 
 taking her to be some foreign lady whom they 
 might make their victim— rushed forward as if to 
 render an olEcious assistance. One caught up her 
 trunk and was rushing with it into the hotel for 
 the purpose of diverting her attention from the 
 proceedings of his companion, who was at the in- 
 stant endeavouring to dive his hand into Emily's 
 pocket with a view to her purse. But at that in- 
 stant the waiter and porter came forth to receive 
 the lady ; so that the boy bearing the trunk was 
 quickly relieved of his burden ; and a gentleman 
 coming along the street, collared the other active 
 youth, who was at the very moment gliding away 
 with Emily's purse in his possession. This gen- 
 tleman had at a glance fathomed the proceeding ; 
 —and to make the young thief surrender tho 
 purse, and then to consign him to the care of a 
 policeman, was now the work of but a few mo- 
 ments. Indeed, it was all done before Emily was 
 scarcely aware of the risk she had incurred of being 
 deprived of her well-filled purse. She now ex- 
 pressed her warm thanks to the gentleman, — 
 whom on thus addressing, she found to be a per- 
 son of about forty years of age, good-looking, and 
 handsomely apparelled. He bowed courteously to 
 her, and sternly reproached the cabman for not 
 taking more care of the young lady, and for suffer- 
 ing her thus to be mobbed as it were by boys 
 whose very appearance denoted their calling. The 
 cabman grumbled out some excuse, received his 
 
 fare, mounted the box, and drove off. The geotts' 
 man, struck by the remarkably handsome ooun. 
 tenance and superb figure of the quadroon, would 
 fain have lingered in discourse with her, that he 
 might improve the acquaintance which acciden* 
 had enabled him to form : but with a graceful 
 salutation, and a few more words of thanks for the 
 service he had rendered her, Emily passed into the 
 hotel. 
 
 She was conducted to a private apartment; and 
 as the dusk set in very early at that December 
 season of the year, she resolved to wait until the 
 morrow's daylight before she took any farther step 
 in pursuance of the designs which had brought bet 
 to England : for the little incident at the door of 
 the hotel had tended to confirm her resolve to be 
 constantly on her guard against the perils and ini- 
 quities to be encountered by a stranger in the 
 British metropolis. The voyage across the At- 
 lantic had left behind it so strange and disagree, 
 able a swimming in the head, that everything ap- 
 peared to be moving up and down in Emily'i 
 imagination. It was so in tho railway-train— it 
 was now so in her apartment at the hotel. She 
 felt indisposed; and she retired to rest at a very 
 early hour in the evening. But it was a long time 
 before the quadroon could compose herself to sleep. 
 The bed in which she lay seemed to be heaving up 
 and down, thus producing a most sickening and 
 unpleasant sensation ; while her thoughts were 
 likewise of a nature calculated to keep her awake. 
 She was now in the same metropolis with her 
 faithless lorer : she felt convinced that he was in 
 London ! Perhaps within the lapse of a few hours 
 she should see him ? — and perhaps within tho 
 same space her own fate would be decided, whether 
 she should succeed in wooing him back to her 
 arms, or whether she should be compelled to 
 punish his infidelity by means of a deadly ven- 
 geance? 
 
 It was not until deep in the night that slum* 
 ber stole upon the eyes of Emily Pinnock ; and 
 thoroughly exhausted both in mind and body, she 
 slept until a late hour in the forenoon. Indeed it 
 was past eleven o'clock when she awoke ; and con- 
 sulting her watch, she was surprised at the length 
 of time she had slept. Starting from the couch, 
 she performed her toilet. The dizzy sensation had 
 now entirely passed away from her brain : she 
 felt well in health, and resolute in all her pur- 
 poses. Having partaken of breakfast, she desired 
 the waiter of the hotel to purchase her the best 
 Guide to London, alleging that her object was to 
 obtain suggestions for visiting the principal sights 
 and objects of interest; and her order was speedily 
 executed. The little book thus furnished her, was 
 a complete gazetteer in its way : it contained de- 
 scriptions of prisons as well as of palaces ; and 
 thus Emily Pinnock quickly ascertained the where, 
 abouts of the gaol in which old Mr. Barriogton 
 was confined. Taking a cab, she proceeded into 
 the neighbourhood of Whitecross Street Prison : 
 and dismissing the vehicle, she drew her thick veil 
 closely over her countenance. In a few minutes 
 she reached the gate of the prison, where it was 
 her object to make certain inquiries, so that she 
 might be thereby guided in the course which slio 
 should subsequently pursue. As the reader huj 
 already seen, Emily was informed by the turnkey 
 that Oustavus and Winifred were at that vary
 
 AQHE3; OK, BEAniT ANP PLEA3UBE. 
 
 305 
 
 time in the prison ^itU the old man, and that 
 there they were likely to remain until five o'clock. 
 Emily had no desire to create a scene within the 
 walls of that establishment : neither did she 
 choose that any message should be sent in to 
 Winifred, for fear lest on coming to answer it 
 she might be accompanied by Gustavus — in which 
 case the scene would occur in the street. There- 
 fore Emily, on ascertaining where Winifred 
 lodged— for this was the principal object of her 
 inquiries— remunerated the turnkey for his civi- 
 lity, and hastened to Aldersgate Street. 
 
 On arriving at Mrs. Slater's house, Emily, as 
 we have seen, decided upon waiting in Winifred's 
 apartment until her return. Thither she was 
 accordingly shown by the maid-servant Mary. 
 All this while Emily had carefully concealed her 
 countenance ; for she did not wish Gustavus to 
 obtain the slightest hint of her presence in Eng- 
 land, for fear lest in his desperation he should flee 
 away, as in a similar state of mind ho had fled 
 from Jamaica. It was her plan that the revela- 
 tion of her presence should strike him with the 
 suddenness of a blow, so that the matter between 
 them might be at once brought to a crisis. 
 
 Emily found herself alone in Winifred's apart- 
 ment. She sat down— gazed about her— and said 
 to herself, " It is here that my rival lives. Ah, 
 my rival! — but how long shall she remain so? 
 Must not this day decide her fate and miiie 1 If 
 in the first instance I meet her alone— as I hope 
 to do — I will tell her everything, so that she may 
 at once discard from her heart that youth who 
 has evidently at one time been as faithless towards 
 her as he has since proved faithless towards me. 
 Then, if everything be suddenly brought to an 
 end betwixt Gustavus and AVinifced, he can have 
 no earthly excuse for not fullilling his oath and his 
 duty, his pledges and his obligations, towards my- 
 eelf ! But if, on the other hand, the two cousins 
 shall presently return together — and if I must 
 confront them both at once— it will serve my pur- 
 pose just as well; for I shall mercilessly unmask 
 Gustavus and proclaim everything in the presence 
 of his cousin Winifred !" 
 
 Such were the reflections and such the plans of 
 Emily Pinnock, during the first ten minutes that 
 she found herself alone in Winifred's apartment. 
 As sho gazed about her, the idea stole into her 
 mind that it would be expedient, if possible, to 
 discover beforeh,ind the real sentiments of Gusta- 
 vus towards Winifred,— whether he had hurried olT 
 from Jamaica to England solely under the influ- 
 ence of the horror produced on his mind by the 
 sudden discovery of her frightful position, and 
 thus with the mere intention of succouring her — 
 or whether it were obedient to the impulse of a 
 resuscitated and reawakened love. If Emily could 
 only find any of the letters which Gustavus had 
 written from Kingston to Winifred, her uncer- 
 tainty on these points would be set at rest. She 
 was alone in that room : — why should she not in- 
 stitute a search ? No sooner thought of than 
 done ! There was the workbox upon the table ; 
 and this was the very first object of her investi- 
 gation. Ah, there was a letter ! What was it ? 
 Not from Gustavus— not from Kingston ! No— 
 but from Liverpool ! — the very letter of which she 
 bad beard a clerk of the shipping-agents speak to 
 the guard of the luggage- train 1 An idea flashed 
 
 to Emily's mind : she possessed herself of the 
 letter— and then hastened from the bouse, leaving 
 with the servant-maid a message to the eff'ect that 
 she would return on the morrow at one o'clock. 
 Taking a cab in Aldersgate Street, Emily ordered 
 the driver to proceed to the Buston Square ter- 
 minus. 
 
 From the conversation which she had overheard 
 at the railway-station at Liverpool, as well as from 
 the contents of the letter which she now had in 
 her possession, Emily Pinnock comprehended how 
 easy it would be to obtain possession of the trea- 
 sure. This would bo a most important point for 
 the quadroon to gain : it would be giving her an 
 immense advantage over Gustavus ; — while, on 
 the other hand, she felt perfectly convinced that 
 after everything whicli had taken place between 
 them, he would never dare employ legal measures 
 of coercion. With a heart thus exulting in an- 
 ticipated triumph, Emily Pinnock reached Euston 
 Square ; and now she composed her countenance 
 for the part she had to perform. She likewise 
 raised her veil ; for she felt that any appearance 
 of concealment or extreme reserve might only 
 tend to engender suspicion. On making an in- 
 quiry, sho was directed to the Goods' Department; 
 and there she addressed herself to the clerk whose 
 duty it was to attend to business of this descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 " I have called concerning a case which I expect 
 from Liverpool," said Emily, in a tone of calm 
 confidence, " and which was originally shipped at 
 Kingston." 
 
 " What name, ma'am ?" inquired the clerk, 
 struck by the beauty of the quadroon. 
 
 " Perhaps I should do well to show you a letter 
 which I have received from the agents at Liver- 
 pool :"— and Emily at once produced the document 
 to which she alluded. 
 
 " Ah, I recollect!" said the clerk, who had re- 
 ceived an intimation from the guard of the lug- 
 t;age-train relative to that particular case. " You, 
 then, I presume, are Miss Barrington ?" 
 
 " I am Miss Barrington," responded the qua- 
 droon, steadily and quietly meeting the clerk's 
 
 " Winifred Barrington ?" muttered the clerk to 
 himself : for the name, in connexion with the 
 lato trial, was fresh in his memory. " It is sin- 
 gular! — the same name— and the Christian name 
 so peculiar ! But still this can't be she who was 
 tried !"— and thus musing, he again surveyed Miss 
 Pinnock. 
 
 " Do you know whether the case baa arrived ?" 
 she asked. " Ah ! perhaps you are struck by the 
 similitude of names ?— but it is only a coinci- 
 dence. Heaven forbid that I should be that other 
 Winifred Barrington of whom you are doubtless 
 thinking!" 
 
 " Ob, no. Miss ! I was certain you could not 
 be !" ejaculated the clerk, because he had read at 
 the time a description of Winifred's appearance, 
 and it differed exceedingly from that of the qua- 
 droon now before him. " But pardon me— my time 
 is precious. There is a case which arrived just 
 now, corresponding with the specifications in that 
 letter of advice. It would have been sent on to 
 your house this afternoon : but if you come, Miss, 
 to take it away with you, you have only to sign 
 the hock and it is at your disposal."
 
 AGNES; OK, BEAHir AND PLEASCKE. 
 
 of the case are eo precious, 
 end I have already been very uneasy in conse- 
 quence of the delay in its delivery, I will take it 
 with me now. 1 have a cab outside," continued 
 [ Emily, speaking in a steady tone ; " aud as I have 
 I received a private letter from Mr. Pinnock, who 
 ; shipped the case at Kingston, I know precisely its 
 ! size and description." 
 
 .Emily then added a few little details, which 
 • convinced the clerk, if any additional reason had 
 been wanting, that she was the identical Winifred 
 I Barrington who alone had a rightful claim upon 
 j the case. He therefore presented the receipt- 
 ! book for her signature; and wh' n with a firm 
 hand sbr. had signed the name of Winifred Bar- 
 rington, the case was left at her disposal. It was 
 speedily conveyed to the cab, upon the roof of 
 which it was placed ; and as the address on it 
 j was Aldersgate Street, the quadroon, careful of 
 I maintaining appearances, ordered the cab to pro. 
 I ceed thither. Away went the cab : but it had 
 not gone to any considerable distance, when 
 Emily pulled the check-string, and the driver de- 
 scended. 
 
 " I have to send that package somewhere 
 abroad," said Emily ; " and I may as well com- 
 plete the businoss without having it first taken to 
 my abode in Aldersgate Street and then having it 
 removed to the shipping-agents'. Do you know of 
 any shop where with the utmost despatch the case 
 could be covered with tarpaulin or oil-cloth, so as 
 to render it water-tight ?— for it contains articles 
 that may spoil. I shall pay you well for your 
 trouble." 
 
 The cabman — anticipating a liberal fare, and 
 therefore willing to oblige — at once drove to a 
 shop with which he was acquainted, and where in 
 the course of half-an-bour the case was completely 
 enclosed in a strong black tarpaulin. The name 
 and address upon the case were thus concealed. 
 The quadroon now inquired for a large card, on 
 which she wrote these words :— " Miss Pinnock, 
 Mount Pleasant, Kingston, Jamaica. To the care 
 of Messrs. Millard and Co., West India merchants, 
 Lime Street, City." 
 
 These proceedings seemed sufficiently legitimate, 
 straightforward, and natural in tho eyes of the 
 cabman— and all the more so when Emily bade 
 him drive at once to the establishment of the 
 Messrs. Millard. On arriving in Lime Street, 
 Emily inquired for Mr. Millard, the head of the 
 firm : and she was introduced into that gentle- 
 man's presence. On mentioning her name, she 
 was cordially welcomed by Mr. Millard, who had 
 that very morning received a letter from Mr. Pin- 
 nock in Jamaica, announcing the visit of his niece 
 to Eogland and opening for her a credit with the 
 firm in Lime Street. As a matter of course Mr. 
 Millard was anxious to offer the hospitalities of his 
 house at Clapham to the niece of one of his most 
 valued correspondents : but Emily on some pre- 
 text—which we need not now pause to describe— 
 dispensed with the suggested arrangement. She 
 consigned to Mr. Millard's care the tarpaulin- 
 covered case which she had brought, and which 
 was directed to herself, desiring that he would 
 keep it until she gave further instructions in re- 
 spect to its ultimate disposal. Taking leave of the 
 merchant, Emily resumed her seat in the cab, and 
 proceeded to Charing Cross, where she alighted. 
 
 Having liberally recompeused the cabuiuu, she re- 
 turned to her hotel on foot, exulting in the succeaa 
 of the plan which she had adapted in regard to 
 
 On the following day Emily Pinnock was puno- 
 tuiil to the appointment which she had made with 
 ^Fiuifred through the message confided to the 
 maid-servant at Mrs. Slater's house ; but on arriv- 
 ing there, and being ushered up to Miss Barring- 
 ton's apartment, the quadroon found herself la the 
 presence of G-ustavus. 
 
 '•' Ah ! is it you ?" she ejaculated, in a low half- 
 suppressed tone, when she had turned to assure 
 herself that the door was closed by the retiring 
 maid-servant : for as we have already stated to the 
 reader, Emily was by no means inclined to make 
 a scene anywhere. 
 
 Though Guslavus was prepared for this meeting 
 —though indeed he had courted it us the only 
 alternative upon which in his desperation he 
 could throw himself— yet now that he stood face 
 to face with Emily, he felt as if he were about to 
 suiTer annihilation. He knew that she hod been 
 deeply, deeply wronged : he felt himself to bo a 
 criminal of perhaps even a greater magnitude 
 than ho really was. His pale countenance, his 
 nervously working features, his quivering form, 
 and his entire manner, betrayed the violence of 
 the agitation which was taking place within him. 
 As for the beautiful quadroon herself, — she had 
 stopped short on throwing back her veil and ut- 
 tering the ejaculation which we have above re- 
 corded ; and her large luminous eyes were now 
 fixed upon Gustavus with an expression which ha 
 could not possibly fathom. 
 
 " And thus, sir," sho said, at length breaking 
 silence, "you have deemed it expedient to meet 
 me, instead of suifering me to 
 
 " Emily," he replied, in a low hollow voice, 
 " you see before you one who is so deeply, deeply 
 wretched, that if you say but a syllable too harsh 
 or utter a reproach too severe, some desperate 
 deed will end the miseries which have already be- 
 come well-nigh intolerable ! Look how I am 
 crushed I Your presence in England— the deed 
 you have done in reference to the gold " 
 
 " Gustavus," she interrupted him, " there need 
 be no harsh language flowing from my lips : on 
 the contrary, I am even yet prepared to forgive 
 everything and with ma to forgive is to for- 
 get ! But it is upon this condition— that with 
 the least possible delay you do your duty towards 
 me— you make me your wife !" 
 
 The youth groaned bitterly ; and the name of 
 *' ~\Viuifred!" was in his anguish involuntarily 
 ejaculated from his lips 
 
 " Do you mean me to understand," exclaimed 
 Emily, her eyes now flashing fiercely, the blood 
 mantling upon her cheeks, her bosom swelling, and 
 her whole form appearing to dilate with indigna- 
 tion,—" do you mean me to understand that when 
 you dared to woo me, yuu loved another— and 
 that this love has since asserted its empire to my 
 immense prejudice i* If it be so, Gustavus, then 
 were you all along a vile deliberate seaucerl- 
 then did you systematically set to work to be- 
 guile me and to rob me of my honour !" 
 
 "No, uol — by heaven no!" ejaculated the 
 youth, almost Freniicd at the idea that his conduct
 
 AGKE3; OE, BEiCTT AND PLEASUU 
 
 could posatbly admit of such a terrible interpreta- 
 tion. " I thought that I loved you, Emily !— God 
 knows I thought it siocerely and firmly ! But if 
 tLie truth must be spoken, it was an infatuation — 
 u delusion— a spell that was cast upon me by the 
 magic of your beauty and by all the circumstances 
 wherein 1 was placed 1" 
 
 "And do you mean me to understand, sir," de- 
 manded the quadroon, her eyes flashing fires far 
 fiercer than before, the blood crimsoning the very 
 duskiness of her complexion, her full red lips 
 wreathing with the haughtiest scorn, and her 
 bosom swelling as if it would burst through the 
 closely fitting bo.iice, — " do you me^ me to un- 
 derstand, sir, that I was the toy of your passing 
 amour— the victim of your delusion— the sport of 
 the circumstances in which you were placed ? Do 
 not dare to tell me this, Gustavus !— for if you dis- 
 play a hardihood so mfamous— an audacity so 
 stupendous— it is a war to the very knife that will 
 spring up between us, and nothing but your life's- 
 blood will appease my revenge !" 
 
 There was a fearful power in the language and 
 in the looks of the indignant quadroon as she thus 
 addressed the youth, who was overawed by conster- 
 nation and dismay as he heard and as be stood all 
 trembling before her. 
 
 " For God's sake speak not to me thus, Emily !" 
 faltered Gustavus : " every syllable you utter iS 
 titber a thunderbolt to shock or a dagger to 
 
 pierce! I beseech you to listen to me and 
 
 then God knows you must become the arbitress of 
 my destinies !" 
 
 " Speak, sir," said Emily, a flush of triumph for 
 
 
 " Two years ago," resumed Gustavus, " I left 
 England— a mere boy, not understanding the 
 nature of the feelings which 1 experienced for my 
 cousin Winifred. Constantly did I think of her 
 while in the vessel which for thousands of miles 
 ploughed the Pacific seas : but never did I pause 
 to analyze the sentiments with which I thus 
 thought of "Winifred. Then circumstances threw 
 me as a guest at Mount Pleasant. It is no idle 
 flattery to say to you, Emily, that no heart which 
 is at all susceptible could remain altogether un- 
 moved by the fascinations of your beauty. AVe 
 were constantly together— my thoughts seemed to 
 be in a continual confusion when I was with you 
 — I was not the master of myself — you were an 
 enchantress shedding upon me ineffable and irre- 
 sistible spells ! 1 walked about as if in a dream : 
 1 was led on step by step — having no moral 
 courage to stop suddenly and say to myself, 'I 
 must and Kill deliberate whether in the secret 
 depths of my own heart I love Emily or I love 
 Winifred l' — Do you comprehend what my posi- 
 tion was p 1 myself understand it ; and yet it 
 seems to me that 1 cannot even now find words 
 strong or expressive enough to explain my mean- 
 
 " Proceed," said the quadroon coldly . 
 
 " i'ou and I were to have been married," con- 
 tinued Gustavus ; " and I endeavoured to persuade 
 itivbett that mine was a happiness without alloy : 
 but, ah 1 1 was compelled to use efforts to thrust 
 away trom my heart the image of Winifred. Yet, 
 as heaven is my judge! I should have married 
 you, Emily— and you know that I should!— but 
 a.'), ju a moment a thunderbolt fell at my feet i 
 
 You know to what I 
 
 ewgpapers 
 
 " Enough on this subject !" interrupted the 
 quadroon : " it is mere useless recapitulation. 
 Come to the point at once— tell me what you «>ow 
 think of Winifred, and what you purpose to do." 
 
 The youth actually reeled beneath the influence 
 of the violent emotions which were agitating him ; 
 and for nearly a minute he gazed with a look of 
 anguished entreaty upon tho quadroon. Then sud- 
 denly sinking upon his knees, he said falteringly, 
 " You ask mo what I now think of Winifred, and 
 what I intend to do ? Oh, I love Winifred !— but 
 you, Emily, are the arbitress of my destinies ! It 
 is you alone who can decide what I am to do !" 
 
 Again did a flush of triumph pass rapidly over 
 the countenance of the quadroon : but Gustavus 
 perceived it not, for his looks were bent downward 
 as he knelt in a posture of humble entreaty and 
 earnest deprecation before her. At length she 
 said, "Else, Gustavus— and answer me!" 
 
 He rose accordingly ; and he now looked her in 
 the face, saying, " Speak, Emily— speak ! Put 
 any question you will, and I swear to answer it 
 truthfully." 
 
 " You love your cousin Winifred ?" she con- 
 tinued, in a cold tone and with an unfathomablo 
 expression in her large luminous eyes. 
 
 " I love Winifred," responded Gustavus, not 
 knowing whether he had everything to hope from 
 Emily's generosity, or everything to dread from 
 her vindictiveness. 
 
 " You love your cousin," she said ; *■ and there- 
 fore you propose to espouse her ?" 
 
 "Such was my intention," faltered the youth 
 timidly. 
 
 " Then answer me, Gustavus," exclaimed the 
 quadroon, her voice now swelling into a tone of 
 solemn adjuration, — " answer me as if you were 
 speaking to a power to whom the utterance of a 
 falsehood would be tantamount to your soul*8 per- 
 dition ? You love Winifred and you would espouse 
 her. But tell me— have you seduced her ? has 
 she confided her honour to your keeping ?" 
 
 It was almost with a cry of horror at the bare 
 idea that Gustavus sail, " No, no ! God forbid ! 
 Impossible !" 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated the quadroon, her cheeks 
 crimsoning for a moment and the next instant 
 becoming as pale as the duskiness of her com- 
 plexion would permit ; " then I will now ask you, 
 Gustavus, who has the greater claim upon you?— 
 she whom you swore that you loved, whom you 
 vowed to espouse, and who is already your wife 
 in the sight of heaven? or she to whom you 
 have also spoken of love, whom you have also 
 promised to espouse, but who is not as yet your 
 bride in heaven's eye ?" 
 
 The young man was for a moment overwhelmed 
 by the unanswerable logic of the quadroon's in- 
 ferences ; and at length he feebly murmured, " Do 
 as you will with me, Enily. For the third time I 
 tell you that you are the arbitress of my destinies. 
 Command, and I obey !" 
 
 " Then hear me, Gustavus," rejoined Bnily. 
 " You know my character well or rather, per- 
 haps, you did not know it when you fled from me ; 
 but now you know it when you find that I hare 
 voyaged across the ocean — daring the perils of 
 the deep in winter's stormy season— to seek you in
 
 A0KE8; OB, BEAUIT AlfD PLEASUEE 
 
 yoar oiva uative land— to claim jou as m; hua- 
 band— to assort a prior right to the fealt; of your 
 heart— to grasp the hand which is mine only, and 
 which can never be bestowed upon another ! Yes 
 — these were xny objects in voyaging across the 
 Atlantic ; and for those purposes am 1 here 
 Think you, therefore, that I am now to be de- 
 terred by a tale of love-sick sentimentalism ? — 
 think you that I will resign all my own rights to 
 the rival whom your boyish vacillation has set 
 up ? No, no, Gustavus ! Perhaps you flattered 
 yourself that I am what the world calls magnani- 
 mous—that 1 am generous— self-sacrificing— self- 
 denying — capable of martyrizing myself for the 
 sake of a fellow-creature — ready to immolate all 
 my own feelings to save some other heart from a 
 pang — content to sit down with the sense of mine 
 own dishonour and unhappiness, that 1 may make 
 the happiness of another ? No, Qustavua !— I 
 am not capable of such moral suicide ! If what 
 I should term utter cowardice and dastard self- 
 abasement, be indeed virtues in your eyes,— then 
 candidly do I confess that there are no such 
 shining lights in the sanctuary of my soul !** 
 
 The quadroon spoke with an inconceivable elo- 
 quence—with a fluency which was in itself a 
 power, apart from the actual sense of the lan- 
 guage. Gustavus listened with a species of stupe- 
 faction : the Dumbing influence of despair was 
 upon bis soul— upon his heart— upon his brain 
 — and in bis very blood. 
 
 " From all that I have been saying," continued 
 the quadroon, "you may judge of what my de- 
 cision is to be ; for you have told me that I am 
 the arbitress of your destinies. Listen then ! 
 Tour gold is in my possession, and so carefully 
 disposed of that never could you find a clue to it. 
 For myself, I covet it not: but I know that i/ou 
 value it as the means of placing yoiir relatives in 
 a happy position. Make me your wife— and I 
 swear by the great God above us that when we 
 stand upon the deck of the vessel which is to bear 
 U3 back to Jamaica, I will sign an order for the 
 treasure to be given up to whomsoever you may 
 appoint to receive it. But if on the other hand 
 you refuse to do me the only act of justice which 
 jou can possibly perform, from that moment my 
 vengeance commences. AVinifred shall know 
 everything — and wo shall see whether your 
 amiable cousin will wed a perjurer and a seducer ! 
 Your grandfather shall know everything!— as 
 widely as possible will I publish your iniquity, 
 although I shall be thereby publishing my own 
 shame at the same time ! As for your gold, it 
 shall be buried deep in the bosom of the Thames. 
 Now you know my decision, Gustavus. You can. 
 not require a moment to make up your own 
 mind : you have told me that I am the arbitress 
 of your destiuiea— and I have spoken !" 
 
 " My God ! my God ! what can I say to Wini- 
 fred?" moaned the unhappy youth, literally 
 wringing his hands in the agony of his mind, and 
 giving involuntary utterance to those words in 
 an audible tone. 
 
 "Always Winifred, Winifred!" ejaculated the 
 quadroon scornfully ; " but never a syllable of 
 remorse on account of the Emily whom you have 
 dishonoured and whom you would have betrayed 
 so foully !" 
 
 "Believe me, Emily," said Gustavus, with the 
 
 meek tone and submissive manner of one whose 
 spirit was utterly crushed, " it is not that I 
 hesitate or refuse to fulfil my duty towards you; 
 for I admit the justice of everything you ad- 
 vanced when asserting your own prior rights and 
 claims. But I think — I think"— and here bia 
 utterance was for a few instants choked by a 
 deep convulsive eob — "it is that I think of poor 
 Winifred, whose heart will be broken I For she 
 loves me— she will be shocked at the black trea- 
 chery of my conduct towards her — and God knows 
 she has already suffered so much !" 
 
 " And is her heart the only one that can bo 
 broken ?" demanded the quadroon in the impla- 
 cable spirit of retort, and yet with the cold confi- 
 dence of one who felt that she had an overwhelm- 
 ing argument against every reason, plea, or pre- 
 text which the youth could advance: "is Wini- 
 fred the only one who can complain of black 
 treachery ? is she the only one who has endured so 
 much? A truce to this weakness— this child's 
 play!— Where is Winifred now ? and is it likely 
 that she may enter at any moment?" 
 
 " She is at the prison, with our poor old rela- 
 tive," answered Gustavus; " and I do not think it 
 
 is probable she will return for the present Ah! 
 
 that footstep! Hush, Emily I Yes— by heaven, 
 'tis she !" 
 
 Time had slipped away so rapidly in the ex- 
 citing interview between the quadroon and Gus- 
 tavus, that neither suspected nearly two hours 
 had elapsed since first they met, and that it was 
 now close upon three o'clock. Yet it was so ; 
 and Winifred, wondering what could thus detain 
 her cousin — uneasy on his account — a prey to 
 many vague apprehensions— had come to seek 
 him. Yes— it was Winifred whose light footsteps 
 upon the stairs had just been heard by those in- 
 side the room ! * 
 
 "My God ! my God !" moaned the youth in an- 
 guish: "what can I do? what can I say?" — and 
 sinking upon a chair, he covered his face with his 
 
 " Eemember, you are mine .'" were the words 
 which breaking in upon the sounds of his own 
 sobbing and convulsive weeping, fell upon hia 
 ears : and then Emily, having thus emphatically 
 spoken, stepped back a few paces. 
 
 The next instant the door opened : Winifred 
 made her appearance — and now for the first time 
 the quadroon found herself in the presence of her 
 rival. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXV. 
 
 WISIFEED AND EMILT. 
 
 WiNirEED beheld a scene which she had indeed 
 little anticipated. Before her stood a tall, hand- 
 some, elegantly-dressed young lady, of dusky com- 
 plexion, who was an utter stranger to her; and at 
 the table sat Guatavus, his face Buried in his hands, 
 and the sounds of his sobbings plainly audible. 
 There was something in the look of the quadroon 
 which instantaneously affrighted and overawed the 
 meek, bashful, timid Winifred,— a look which sho 
 could not however rightly comprehend, but which 
 seemed to speak of mingled triumph and dcfi-
 
 Fo? a few moments Winifred Earringlon atuod 
 transfixed to the spot near the threshold of the 
 door : but suddenly springing towards her cousin, 
 he exclaimed, " Good heavens, Gustavus ! what is 
 the matter ?— what means this wild and fearful 
 «nef ?■■ 
 
 The jouth started up to his feet ; and Oh ! what 
 a ghastly woe-hegone countenance it was which 
 now revealed itself to "Winifred's gaze ! She 
 stepped back in affright ; and her look of an. 
 guished inquiry was thrown upon the quadroon, 
 whom she naturally conceived to be more or less 
 connected with her cousin's painful condition. 
 
 " Hare no sympathy for me, "Winifred !" cried 
 Gustavus vehemently. " I am a villain— I have 
 
 renounced you I O, my God! what misery 
 
 have I brought ourta upon myself and you !" 
 
 Gustavus spoke in a rending tune of anguish, 
 na he wrong his hands in despair; anri again fling- 
 ing himself upon a seat, be covered his counte. 
 No. 27. — Agses. 
 
 nance nilli t'uose hands — for be could notenduroto 
 look his cousin "Winifred in the face. As for Wini- 
 fred herself, she was now almost completely over- 
 whelmed with the announcement that had pealed 
 from her cousin's lips : for what else could it meaa 
 than that the handsome dusky-complexioncd lady 
 had wrought all this change and had consequently 
 a claim upon his affections ? Then, all of a sudden, 
 Winifred remembered that Gustavus in his flrst 
 letter from Kingston had spoken of Mr. Pinnock'a 
 niece, " a quadroon girl :" and a light now flashed 
 in unto her mind. 
 
 " For heaven's sake tell me what all this 
 means ?" said "Winifred, appealing to the qua- 
 droon. " Perhaps you are Miss Pinnock " 
 
 " I am Miss Pinnock," replied Emily : " and 
 believe me. Miss Barrington, I am very sorry on 
 
 A deadly pallor overspread "Winifred's coun- 
 tenance : she staggered, and for a moment seemed
 
 AGSE8: OB, bBACTT 
 
 PLEASCEE. 
 
 as if she were about to fall : but suddenly 
 ing Lerselt with all the coergies thi 
 her, she said in a voice of unaatural 
 " I understand it now, Jliss Pinnock! You have 
 perhaps a better claim upon Gustatus "— here ber 
 voice was for a moment choked—" than I bare t 
 If so, believe me I am not selfish— and it is with 
 sincerity I exclaim, May Gkd's blessings be upon 
 you both !*' 
 
 Such language from the lips of his injured 
 cousin was far more terrible to the mind of Gus- 
 tavuB than if she had suddenly burst forth in 
 vehement and passionate reproaches. 
 
 '• Winifred," he said, throwing himself at her 
 feet, "your words kill me ! Their very kindness 
 ia a aharper dagger than if you spoke in wrath 
 and indigcation !" 
 
 "Else, Gustavus," said Winifred, struggling 
 hard to keep back an outburst of bitter weeping. 
 " Wbatorar vows you may have plighted to this 
 young lady, I entreat you to keep them !— for I 
 now comprehend that you love her — I now see 
 what you meant when you have so emphatically 
 spoken of the sacrifices you made on my behalf!" 
 
 " Yes, rise, Guetavus," said the quadroon : 
 " your cousin forgives you ! Miss Batrington," 
 continued Emily, who was sow herself maSh af- 
 fected—for she had anticipated a very dilTerent 
 scene when Winifred made her appearance, — 
 "your conduct is most admirable, and I shall ever 
 think of you with friendship !" 
 
 Gustavtts had in the meanwhile risen from his 
 suppliant posture ; and hastily taming away to- 
 wards the window, he there stood, the picture of 
 blank despair. 
 
 " Thanks— a thousand thanks for that kind as- 
 surance on your part, Miss Piuaock," said Wini- 
 fred, taking the quadroon's hand. " From the 
 very bottom of my heart do I forgive my cousin ; 
 and therefore let not this circumstance trouble 
 your happiness. I know that he loves vou— I am 
 confident of it ! — it was a terrible sacrifice of 
 feeling for him to desert you— but it was with the 
 most generous purposed on my behalf ! Tell him 
 when he is calm. Miss Pinnock," proceeded Wini. 
 fred, now speaking in a very low voice, " that I 
 entertain not the slightest rancour or ill-feeling 
 towards him. On the contrary, I now know that 
 the proposal be made to myself wag inspired by a 
 generous sense of what he deemed to be a duty. 
 Hon thcrei'ore can I be angry with him ?" 
 
 Though these words were spoken ia so low e 
 tone, yet they reached the ears of Gastavas ; and 
 hastening towards Winifred, he exclaimed enthu- 
 siastically, "You have the disp<?3ilion of an angel ! 
 But all you can say or do does not the less make 
 me f.^el like a villain— as indeed I know myself 
 to be ! " 
 
 " Enough, Gustavus ! — enough !'* said Wini- 
 fred, whose countenance was now completely 
 calm : " you must not thus accuse yourself in the 
 presence of her who is doubtless soon to become 
 your bride ! I conjure you, Gustavus— for my 
 sake as well as Miss Pionock's— compose your feel- 
 ings ! I am confident you have erred more 
 through the pressure of circumstances than 
 through downright wicked intention ;— and we 
 ero all liable to such error '." 
 
 •• But can you be happy, Wmifred ?" asked 
 Qcstavus, his voice still broken with sobs : " can 
 
 you recover that pe«e of mind which 1 fear 1 
 have so cruelly disturbed ? Ob ! let me give yon 
 at least one tittle of joyful iotcliigence ! It is 
 that the treasure is discovered— it shall be re- 
 stored to you— and you shall yet erjoy the satis- 
 faction of seeing our venerable granJsire come 
 fortli from prison !" 
 
 " Yes," said the quadroon ; " the gold is safe. 
 Miss B.trnngton. Yuu can now perhaps full 
 easily imagine how it came into my possession, and 
 •Ay I possessed myself of it." 
 
 "E::ougb, Miss Fianock !" said Winifred ; "all 
 theae explanations are only too paiofttl 1'* 
 
 " Coiao then, Gustavus," said the quadroon, 
 " let us depart !— for the scene itself is most pain- 
 ful ! Bid your cousia farewell :"— and Emily 
 accentuated the last word in a significant manner 
 as much as to imply that this farewell must be 
 looked upon as eternal- 
 
 " Farewell, Gustavus," said Winifred, still with 
 calm countenance and with tearless eyes; and per- 
 haps there was even a slight soft smile upon ber 
 lips, as she extenJed her hand to her cousin in a 
 way which was intended to imply that to the mere 
 shaking of bands was this farewell to be limited, 
 and that they must not embrace in the presence 
 of her who was soon to be his bride : " farewell, 
 Gustavus ! —and may heaven bless you ! Perhaps 
 you will not see your grandfather before you de- 
 part—perhaps you will not like to see him," abs 
 added signiiioanlly ; " and therefore you may 
 leave it to me to say everything kind and affeo- 
 '.ionate on your behalf- You may leave it to me 
 li.kewise," she proceeded, in a voice which now 
 grew somewhat tremulous, " to tell a tale which 
 siiail properly account for your abrupt de^ar- 
 
 Gustavus bod at first taken the hand which waa 
 expended to him ; and he had comprehended the 
 meaning with which it was so extended- He 
 preised it fervidly between both his owo— he was 
 again weeping and sobbing — he felt as if his 
 heart must break ; and Hoable to control his feel- 
 ings, he caught Winifred in hie arms. 
 
 " So, no I I cannot leave you thus !" ho pas- 
 sionately exclaimed. " I will not leave you at all ! 
 I am free to act as I choose ! Emily shall not 
 coerce me ! Let her keep the gold 1— but I will 
 be true to yoa, Winifred— and X will not desert 
 my poor old grandfather !" 
 
 " Eemember," said Einily's voice, speaking low 
 yet impressively in his ear as he was strainioo' 
 1 Winifred to his breast, "you have sworn that I 
 I shall be the arbitrcss of your destinies!" 
 I '-Ob, yes !" cried Gustavus, suddenly unwinding 
 I his arms from about Winifred's form : " bat a man 
 ' may in a moment of desperation pledge his soul 
 I to Satan, and yet his guardian angel may step in 
 I to save him— and his virtue is greater in breaking 
 I the vow than even his crime would be in keeping 
 it! I will not go with you, Enlly!— I will 
 remain faithful to Winifred !" 
 
 Tne young man was labouring under an almost 
 frenzied excitement : his eyeballs glared, and hit 
 white teeth gleamed between his ashy quivering 
 lips. He held both Winifred's hands tight in his 
 own,— she vainly struggling to disengage them. 
 The scene was now acquiring a terribU and fear- 
 ful interest. The quadroon's eyes were flashing 
 fierce fires-the colour was coming and going
 
 ■-GNE3; OK, BEAUTY AND PLEA3TTEE. 
 
 mpidly beneath the duskincas of oer comijlexion — 
 she saw that all in a moment she had lost her 
 Tantage eround, and that nothing but some des- 
 perate effort would enable her to recover it. At 
 least 30 she fancied : for judginj others by herself, 
 she could not conceive that Winifred would now 
 surrender up the lover who displayed so decided a 
 preference for herself. But the quadroon had vet 
 to learn the full extent of Wiaifred's self- 
 sacrificing generosity ; and thus assistance sud- 
 denly came to Emily Pinnock from the quarter 
 whence she now so little expected to receive it. 
 
 All the time that Winifred was held in her 
 cousin's frenzied embrace, she had struggled to 
 disengage hersfif ; but at that moment the qua- 
 droon's eyes were blinded with rage and jealousy, 
 so that she perceived not these efforts on Wini- 
 fred's part. But now Miss Barrington suddenly 
 eisclaimed " Unhand me, Gustavus— and hear 
 
 She spoke in a voice of such unwonted ilvmness, 
 and her words were accompanied by a kindred 
 look of such resolute command, that Gustavus 
 was suddenly overawed : and he released his 
 cousin's hands. 
 
 " Now hear mo !" said Wiuifrod, retreating two 
 or three paces : " hear me, I beseech you— and in. 
 terrupt me not ! My resolve, Gustavus, is irre 
 Tocably taken. Your's 1 can never be ! I would 
 not accept a heart that has even partially belonged 
 to another ! Besides, this young lady asserts 
 claims upon you wiiich she will not renounce ; 
 whereas f, on the other hand, renounce every 
 claim which I might possibly assert. That you 
 love her I know; and that she loves you, is evi- 
 denced by her coming across the seas to claim you. 
 You know, Gustavus, that when you offered me 
 your hand the evening before last, I first replied 
 in the negative ; and that negritivo was dictated 
 by a previous determination on my part. The 
 events of this day will therefore only carry me 
 back to the position in which I was when 1 formed 
 that determination ; and if I can forgive you— as 
 I sincerely do, Gustavus— for everything that has 
 since taken place, there is no harm done. Now 
 you have beard me. I beseech that there may be 
 no more passion nor excitement: for everything is 
 
 settled and nothing," added Winifreii, firmly, 
 
 " can possibly alter my resolution. Farewell, 
 Gustavus ! —farewell, Miss Pinnock i" 
 
 Winifred just gave her hand to her cousin and 
 quickly withdrew it : she gave her hand to Emily, 
 but suffered it to linger fur an additional 
 in the pressure which the quadroon bef 
 upon it. Thei'e was a vertigo in the young man's 
 brain — he knew not what he was duiug — he was 
 not the master of himself— he stared around him 
 in wild vacancy : and then, like one who had sud- 
 denly fallen into au idiotic tranquillity, he suffered 
 Emily to lead him from the apartment. It was a 
 look of fervid gratitude which the quadroon flung 
 back upon AVinil'red ere the door closed behind 
 her ; and she hurried Gustavus down the stairs to 
 the cab in which she had arrived, and which was 
 waiting in front of the house. 
 
 But now that V.'inifred was alone, all the feel- 
 ings she had pent up by the strongest efforts which 
 ever human being made to conquer violent emo- 
 tions—or rather, we should say, to assume a lirm 
 and tranquil exterior while the heart within was a 
 
 volcano, — all those pent up feelings now burst i 
 forth. Winifred sank upon her knees— buried her 
 face in her hands, which rested against the edge ( 
 of the table — and gave way to her grief. She was I 
 alone! Gustavus was gone !— gone with another 
 who had cime to claim him ! Within one short 
 hour all Winifred's hopes of happiness seemed to 
 bo utterly wrecked: for she lovsd her cousin — 
 dearly, dearly loved him ! And now she was 
 alone; and he was gone ! An eternal farewell had 
 been spoken;— perhaps they should never meet 
 a^ain ! In the generosity of her heart, when 
 seeking to smooth down all uifHculties in the late 
 fearful scene, she had volunteered to teli the old 
 man in prison some tale which should properly 
 account for his grandson's sudden disappearance ; 
 but what tale could she devise for such a purpose? 
 And had not the old man's assent been obtained 
 to the union of his two grandchildren ? — how 
 therefore could this abrupt breaking off of the 
 contemplated alliance bo so explained as to save 
 the honour of Gustavus in the estimation of his 
 grandfather, and likewise prove that no fault lay 
 with Winifred herself ? Oh, it was indeed a diiS- 
 cult task which the poor girl had to perform !— it 
 was altogether a hard lot which she had to 
 
 Jf'j wonder, therefore, if she sank down upon 
 her knees and wept bitterly !— no wonder if she 
 thought that God himself had abandoned her 
 when she found herself being smitten by calamity 
 after calamity, blow upon blow ! And no wonder 
 either if the wound which had been made by tho 
 iron of recent misfortune penetrating into her soul, 
 was now opened afresh!- and bo wonder if her 
 heart bled from its very core ! Poor Winifred, 
 thou wast indeed doomed to suffer — thou wast one 
 of tho world's martyrs— innocent, yet oppressea — - 
 virtuous, yet chastised as if saturated with ail 
 vices ! Alas, poor Winifred ! 
 
 She went not from her room during the re. 
 mainder of that day ; and throughout the night 
 which followed, her form pressed not the couch. 
 When tho feeble light of a cold winter's morning 
 gleamed in at the window, it found her seated 
 upon a chair, her arms drooping downward — the 
 hands clasped — her whole attitude that of deep, 
 unutterable despair. But now she rose, and she 
 suddenly said to herself, " I have been wrong thus 
 to yield to affliction !— wrong to imagine that I 
 am abandoned by heaven ! Does not the Book of 
 Life itself give the assurance that those whom thfl 
 Supreme Being loves he chastens ?" 
 
 Winifred knelt down and prayed. She prayed 
 long — not with agony nor with grief, but with 
 earnestness and with fervour : she besought God 
 to give her strength to pass through all her trials. 
 She rose, comforted. She performed her ablu- 
 tions, and she felt refreshed. But she would par- 
 take of no food ; and issuing forth from the house, 
 she walked far away— she walked rapidly, wooing 
 the fresh air to her palo cheeks, and hoping that 
 by the iovigoration of tho body she would like- 
 wise be able to invigorate the mind. At length 
 she began to retrace her steps ; and at about noon 
 she returned to her lodgings. She was met in the 
 passage by Mrs. Slater, who exclaimed, "Tho case 
 is come, my dear Winifred ! I ordered it to be 
 taken up to your own loom. I locked the door — 
 and here is the key."
 
 J12 AGNES; OK, DBACIT 
 
 The worthy wuiuuu, in tho jjj she experienced Ualharn wiih the fact that riches had flowed iota 
 
 at the arrival of the package (though ebe bad < my possession *' 
 
 known nothing of its temporary loss), was eo i " And he is rejoiced," continued Mr. Wardour. 
 great as to prevent her from discerning anything " to learn that your grandfather's affairs are tu 
 changed or peculiar in Miss Barrington'a look or \ be taken out of Mr. Timperley's hands and en- 
 manner, trusted to other solicitors. As a matter of filial 
 " Dili no letter nor message accompany it ?" in- duty li jderick Dalham could not assume a posi- 
 quired Winifred, in a voice which began falter- tivelv hostile demeanour towards his father bv 
 ingly, but into which she almost immediately in- openly espousing Mr. Barringlon's cause in the 
 fused a steady firmness. lawsuit : but still, as you well know, Winifred, 
 "^"o— nothing;," replied Mrs. Slater. " A man lioderick Dalham's sympathies are entirely with 
 
 brought it in a cart 1 think ho said be came that cause— for be knows it to be the just one, 
 
 from a Mr. Millard. 1 signed some book as re- and he deeply feels that his father has been a 
 ceiving it in your name— I gave the man a trifle vindictive persecutor rather than an honourable 
 for his trouble — and he went away." litigant. Indeed," continued Mr. Wardour, 
 
 Winifred expressed ber thanks, took the key of " Eoderick Dalham trembles with the suspicion 
 her room, and hastened up-stairs. There she that there must have been some secret under- 
 found the case, enveloped in the tarpaulin which standing of a treacherous character between bis 
 Emily Pinnock had caused to be fastened about father and Mr. Timperley ; though I was careful 
 it : and a simple card on the outside bore Wini- to say nothing relative to that warning note whicii 
 fred's address. She cut away the tarpaulin with Mr. Barrington received the other day— for I wai 
 the idea that there might possibly be some note delicate in dealing with Eoderick Dalham's feel- 
 inside : but there was none. She did not open ings, and 1 abstained from saying aught that 
 the case— she had no curiosity to see the gold— | might strengthen the suspicion to which I bavc 
 but she murmured to herself, " Heaven bas not just alluded." 
 
 altogether abandoned me ; for if my own happi- " And do you really think, sir," inquired Wini- 
 cess be gone, I have still the means of insuring (red, '• that there has bee^ any such treacheroui 
 
 that of my grandsire !" understanding " 
 
 She now proceeded to the prison ; and she told " If Mr. Timperley bas really been playing a 
 her grandfather a tale of bow Mr. Pinnock in false game towards jour grandfather," interrupted 
 Jamaica had hurriedly sent over to fetch Gus- ^r- Wardour, " it must have been through some 
 tavus back to him — how Gustavus had been com- peculiar motive. As a lawyer one would think 
 pelled to depart— and how this departure took 'lis' he valued his professional reputation, and 
 place too late on the preceding evening for the would be anxious to gain this suit ; while, in the 
 youth to call at the prison to bid his grandsire , second place, as a man notoriously greedy for 
 farewell. In a word, Winifred so managed mat- j money, he ought to desire to bring the matter to 
 ters with the old man as to satisfy his mind com- ' * conclusion that he might 'obtain his costs in case 
 pletely : for as a little stroke of policy, the con- of success, or get rid of an expensive speculation 
 siderato girl had brought him some delicacies for '" case of failure. When therefore we see Mr. 
 his table and some new articles of raiment, to Timperley acting in altogether a diiTerent sense — 
 which his entire attention was accordingly at »oii when we find that a private warning in rs- 
 once directed. , spect to his character has been sent— we can ar- 
 
 On leaving the prison, Winifred repaired to r'^e a' "o other conclusion than that he has all 
 Mr. Wardour's chambers; and to this gentleman along been acting a treacherous part from very 
 she reported that the case of gold had arrived. ' strong motives. But who could make it worth 
 He promised to take immediate measures for the ; li's while thus to act unless it be Sir John Dalham 
 disposal of the ore and dust, so that the amount himself?" 
 
 might be realized in the current coin of the Bri- "True!" said Winifred: "and deeply must 
 tish realm. ' it distress Mr. Eoderick Dalham's mind to 
 
 "There was with me just now," he observed, ^^'^rtain a dishonouring suspicion, however 
 "a gentleman whom you well know, Winifred, ' ^^gue and slight, in reference to bis own 
 and who experiences the liveliest interest in every- , father !" 
 
 thing that concerns you : I need scarcely add that "I tave not been speaking," continued Mr. 
 I allude to Mr. Dalham; and 1 presume that I Wardour, "so strongly against Mr. Timperley 
 wag guilty of no breach of confidence when I in- without certain grounds, which grow more and 
 formed him of the manner in which heaven was , "^"'^ suspicious the farther they are investigated, 
 at length smiling upon you?" I think it will be shortly discovered that your un- 
 
 it was only by a great effort that "Winifred fortunate grandfather has been detained in prison 
 could keep back her tears, or prevent the deep ^y » network of the deepest villany— a network 
 silent sigh from expanding into an audible sob, as the meshes of which were originally woven by 
 she thought how greatly Mr. Wardour was mis- ^■■- Waldron, but which have been since multi- 
 taken ; for though the gold remained, jet he P''^'^ ""d strengthened by the hands of Mr Tim- 
 whom she loved more than all the treasures in perley. However, in a few days 1 shall be enabled 
 the world had been taken from her ! She hap. '" 'i^" yu more." 
 
 pened to be seated with ber back towards the win- Winifred took her departure from Mr. War- 
 dow — the December day was gloomy — and thus four's chambers, pondering on all he had said to 
 Mr. Wardour did not observe whatsoever emotion ''*■'■ ^6 should observe that although some 
 was expressed upon her features. mention had been made to the worthy barristor 
 
 "No, sir — there was not any breach of con- ^f * certain warning letter connected with Mr. 
 fidence," said Winifred, " in acquainting Mr. I Timperley, yet the name of Mr. Hargrave was
 
 AGXES; OK, BEACir ANP PLBA31EE. 
 
 not proclaimed, and the secret of that warning 
 better's source was duly respected. 
 
 Winifred had entered AlJersgate Street, and 
 w&s in the neighbourhood of her lodgings, when 
 she encountered one of whom for the past hour 
 she had been painfully thinking. This was Mr. 
 Dalham. They stopped : he shook Winifred by 
 the hand ; and perceiving that she was pale and 
 careworn, his countenance assumed an air of the 
 deepest concern, as he said, " I was in hopes, Wini- 
 fred, from all ilr. Wardour had very recently com- 
 municated to me, that the days of unhappiness 
 had passed and that the period of bliss and pros- 
 perity had arrived ?" 
 
 Winifred gave uo immediate response : but the 
 tears flowed down her cheeks. 
 
 " Tell me, my young friend," said Eoderick 
 Dalham earnestly, " why are you thus unhappy ? 
 why are you distressed ? Have you not riches at 
 your command ? — is not your cousin returned ? — 
 and am I not to judge from this fact that he has 
 pleajed his suit so effectually that your scruples 
 have been overcome and that you have consented 
 to bestow your hand upon him f" 
 
 *' Air. Dalham," replied Winifred, in a low deep 
 voice, " I ought to have no secrets from you. 
 Everything is at an end between my cousin and 
 myself I" 
 
 " Oh, Winifred ! if you have done this," ex- 
 claimed Boderick Dalham, *• you were wrong — be- 
 lieve me you were wrong ! You have perhaps 
 
 destroyed his happiness as well as your own " 
 
 " Jfo, sir— do not blame me," interrupted Wini- 
 fred : " it was not my fault ! I must not seem 
 capricious, hard-hearted, obstinate, or selfish in 
 your eyes ! Learn then the truth. My cousin 
 
 loved another it was but as a matter of duty, 
 
 kindness, and sympathy that he offered his hand 
 to me But that other— a young lady of trans- 
 cending beauty — a quadroon whom he knew in 
 Jamaica She came over to England— she ar- 
 rived two or three days back " 
 
 " Ah!" ejaculated D.vlham ; " a beautiful qua- 
 droon ! And her name ?" 
 
 " Emily Pinnock," replied Winifred. 
 " Then by heaven 'tis the same I" ejaculated 
 Dalham. " And your cousin Gustavus — is he a 
 
 tall, slender, dark-haired youth " 
 
 "Yes," said Winifred. " But what do you 
 know of Emily Pinnock ?" 
 
 " I know where she is staying," responded Dal- 
 ham : " it is at an hotel at the West End. It 
 happened that at the very moment she alighted at 
 the door, I was passing — I protected her against 
 an impudent robbery that was being attempted 
 
 and to confess the truth, 1 subsequently had 
 
 the curiosity when again passing the door of that 
 hotel, to inquire her name from a waiter who was 
 lounging there." 
 
 " And is she not eminently beautiful f" asked 
 Winifred, with difficulty suppressing a sigh. " But ! 
 
 you say that you have seen my cousin also ■" 1 
 
 "Yes— and scarcely an hour back," rejoined 
 Mr. Dalham. " It was in St. Paul's Churchyard 
 
 1 caught a glimpse of that beautiful qua- j 
 
 droon's countenance in a cab which stopped I 
 
 Ah ! now I comprehend it !— it was at Doctors' 
 j Commons 1 I was struck by that handsome young 
 I man who assisted Miss Pinnock to alight— and 
 I they disappeared together under the archway." 
 
 Winifred understood what this announcement 
 signified ; and though she had renounced her 
 cousin that he might conduct Emily Pinnock to 
 the altar — though she had made up her mind that 
 this marriage would take place— though she had 
 exerted all her energies to resign herself to the 
 irrevocable loss of him whom she loved — yet now 
 did she feel as if stricken by a sudden blow when 
 she learnt that Gustavus and Emily had been seen 
 entering Doctors' Commons : for what other ob- 
 ject could they have than to procure the marriage 
 
 licen 
 
 " Winifred," said Mr. Dalham, again taking her 
 hand and pressing it fervidly, " I fear that I have 
 told you something which has much distressed 
 lyou?" 
 
 " And yet I feel that to be now distressed for 
 all this," faltered the poor girl, '■ is something very 
 wrong. Oh ! I will be calm— I will summon all 
 my courage to my aid !" 
 I '•' Lean on my arm, Winifred — and let us walk 
 I slowly along the street," said Mr. Dalham ; " or 
 we shall be observed by the curious eyes of the 
 passers-by. Eestrain your emotions, I implore 
 you ! It grieves me infinitely to think that you 
 are thus doomed to experience affliction after afflic- 
 tion ! Oh, why will you not suffer me to take 
 your happiness into my keeping ? — why will you 
 not bestow upon me this hand which I covet ? You 
 look upon me as the saviour of your life : will you 
 not make me the guardian of your happiness also ? 
 You will some day be rich, Winifred— whereas I 
 
 myself may be comparatively poor " 
 
 *■ You, Mr. Dalham ?" she ejaculated in aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 "Yes," he replied : "for let me now speak to 
 you seriously upon certain matters. Your grand- 
 father is destined to gain bis suit shortly— I am 
 convinced that he will succeed — and the result will 
 be far more fatal to my father than ever I fancied 
 until yesterday. But yesterday I obtained an in- 
 1 sight into my father's affairs ; and 1 discovered 
 that if by the law's decree he should be compelled 
 j to surrender up the estates which he has so long 
 enjoyed, ruin will stare him in the face- yes, ab- 
 ! solute ruin, AVlnifred ! And that ruin," added 
 1 Dalham, energetically, " will as a natural conse- 
 quence redound upon me T' 
 
 Winifred shuddered throughout her entire be- 
 ing : for, as she leant upon Dalham's arm, he 
 could feel that the strong convulsion thus passed 
 through her. She reflected profoundly and in 
 silence for several minutes. The strongest appeal 
 had been made to her by one to whom she 
 laboured under incalculable obligations ; and as 
 the reader is aware, she possessed a heart capable 
 of any self-sacrifice. 
 
 " To see you involved in ruin, Mr. Dalham," 
 she at length said, in a low but earnest tone, 
 " would be the cruellest affliction that could pos- 
 sibly smite me. Ou ! you have saved my life— 
 and that life would I lay down for your sake ! 
 My God! tell me, what would you have me 
 do?" 
 
 " I would have you do nothing, Winifred, 
 against your own inclinations," replied Boderick 
 Dalham : " but I will put a case to you, and 
 leave it for you to reflect upon. Suppose that 
 
 you gave me your hand " 
 
 "That hand which but a tew days back I would
 
 have 
 
 AGSK8 ; OR, EEACTT AlTD PLKASDEE. 
 
 another p" ejaculated Winifred. 
 " So ! no !— jou would not accept it '." 
 
 '* I would accept it, Winifred, as the most ioes- 
 timable of treasures," rejoined Dalham ; " and 
 though jour heart has been given to another, yet 
 I should not despair of winning it for myself — I 
 mean in the course of time : for I should surround 
 you with all kindnesses— your happiness should 
 be my constant study " 
 
 *•■ Proceed, ilr. Dalhara," said Winifred, in a 
 tremulous voice,— "proceed with the case which 
 joa were about to put." 
 
 "Let us suppose that you gave me your hand," 
 continued Eoderick Dalbam : " neilher my father 
 nor your grandfather need learn the secret. The 
 Buit must now speedily be decided. If it result in 
 my father's favour, you will in due time become 
 enriched through me, your husband : if it result 
 in your grandfather's favour, I shall continae rich 
 through you, ks my wife. For rest assured that 
 in this latter case the old man will leave you the 
 bulk if not the whole of his fortune ; because your 
 Cousin will have espoused a West Indian heiress, 
 and wilt become rich from that source." 
 
 " Give me a day or an hour," said Winifred, 
 " to reflect upon everything you have told 
 me " 
 
 " Take a day or a week, Winifred," interrupted 
 Dalham ; " for heaven knows that I would not 
 have you do anything rashly !" 
 
 '• To-morrow at this same time," said the young 
 moidea, in a low but firm voice, " ray decision 
 sha'l be made known. Meet me here." 
 
 Sue gave him her hand for a moment, and then 
 hastened onward to her lodgings, which she 
 reached without once looking behind her. Shortly 
 after her return home, Mr. Wardour arrived, ac- 
 companied by a bullion-merchant, who was pro- 
 vided with the requisite tests to ascertain the 
 quality of the gold as well as scales to weigh it. 
 The bargain was completed ; and that same day 
 the sum of fourteen thousand five hundred pounds 
 was invested by Mr. Wardour, in the name of 
 Winifred Barrington, in the Bank of England. 
 
 CHAPXEE XXXVI. 
 
 TitE sceno now shifts to the city of Ifaples. 
 There, at about the time of which we are writ-.ng 
 — namely, in the second week of December, a 
 littie more than a mouth after Winifred's trial 
 and acquittal— Charles De Tete arrived to as- 
 sume his post as one of the paid attaches to 
 the British Embassy at the Neapolitan Court. 
 He had come out with the Ambassador him- 
 self, who had been for some few weeks in Eng. 
 land ; and Mrs. Da Vere was to follow him 
 in a short time. This lady had been suffer- 
 ing more than usual of late; and at the time 
 ■when Charles was called upon to leave England 
 his mother was too enfeebled to accompany him. 
 She liowever strove to hide the extent to which 
 she suffered ; and she pleaded as an excuse for 
 remaining behind the necessity of making ar- 
 rangements fur disposing of her furniture and 
 letting Belmont Cottn^ ■, of which she had taken 
 
 a lease. Thus it was agreed that Mrs. De \en 
 should follow her son to Naples so soon as th.-se 
 arrangements were carried into effect. 
 
 Charles had been well educated : he spoke the 
 French language fluently— he had a very decent 
 knowledge of the Italian tongue; and ever since 
 his appointment to the poet of attach^, he had 
 been studying it diligently. He could thus con. 
 verso with tolerable ease in Italian, while he could 
 perfectly comprehend it when it was spoken. 
 
 We are not about to enter into a long nnd 
 tedious description of the component parts of the 
 British Embassy at Naples— nor of the diplo- 
 macies in which young Do Vere was now to bear 
 a certain part— nor of his appearance at the 
 Neapolitan C'jurt— nor of the Viusettled state of 
 the Eingdom of Naples itself at the close of that 
 memorable year of revolutionary movements — 
 1813. Neither are we about to inflict upon our 
 readers an elaborate description of the city of 
 Naples, which looks beautiful even in tba midst 
 of winter, with its magnificent bay in front and 
 the heights of Vesuvius behind : nor is it our pur- 
 pose to usurp the functions of the tourist by de- 
 picting the appearance, the manners, habits, or 
 customs of the Neapolitan people. We have an 
 important cpisodo to enter upon ; and we shall 
 commence tbe recital with the least possible 
 delay. 
 
 It was one evening in the second week of De- 
 cember — a few days after the arrival of Charles 
 De Vere at Naples— that he wandered forth alone 
 into the streets to view their aspect at that hour, 
 and likewise to make some little purchases which 
 be required. The weather had been remarkably 
 mild throughout the day; and though the brecae 
 from the sea had freshened towards sunset, yet it | 
 was far from cold, and there was no bitterness in | 
 the atmosphere. Our young hero's purchaser 
 were soon made ; and as it was now only eight 
 o'clock, he continued to roam through the streets, 
 occasionally admiring the fronts of the brilliantly 
 lighted caftJ3, but for the most part occupied with 
 his own thoughts. He reflected upon the farewell 
 scene with the beauteous Agnes, whom he luved so 
 devotedly : he remembered how she had besought 
 him to tell her candidly whether the disgrace 
 which had overtaken her cousin Floribel, and 
 which was pretty generally known, had effected 
 any change in his sentiments towards herself?— 
 and he silently repeated the fervid words which 
 he had ejaculated at the time, when straining 
 Agnes to bis breast in a farewell embrace, ho had 
 crieti, '■ No, my beloved 1 how is it possible that 1 
 could thiuk the worse of you on account of your 
 poor erring cousin !" 
 
 Charles De Vere likewise thought of the bril- 
 liant prospects that were now open before him, his 
 footsteps having entered upon a diplomatic careo.- 
 in which the natural fervour of his youthful 
 imagination depicted his future course as leading 
 on to the highest honours and dignities. And he 
 thought to himself how happy should he bo when 
 the day should come on which ho would by his 
 pusition be justified in conducting Agnus to the 
 altar. .He thought also of that memorable tritil 
 in which he had been compelled by circumstar^ies 
 to appear as a witness : he was glad that a favour- 
 able verdict bad been pronounced in respect to 
 Winifred- but ho was bewildered when heaskcd
 
 AaSSI; OB, BEAUTY AND PLEASUEE. 
 
 himself how she could in reality be 
 the presence of all the atronj circumstantial testi- 
 mony which had been arrayed against her. 
 
 While thus yielding to his various reflections, 
 Charles de Vcre became unmindful of the course 
 which he was pursuing ; and ho presently found 
 that he was in a (juarter of the city which was 
 completely strange to him. This however gave 
 him no concern ; for he could easily inquire his 
 way, or he might take a veliicle to bear him back 
 to the British Embassy, where he dwelt. He had 
 ,;ot beyond the sphere of the brilliantly lighted 
 itreefs: he bad unconsciously wandered into a 
 lower and moro obscure neighbourhood, and where 
 there were hut comparatively few persons passing 
 in the thoroughfares. As the evening was fine, 
 and Charles bad no iacliuatioa to return to his 
 abode in a hurry, he did not take a public vehicle : 
 but he inquired his way to the mansion of the 
 Sritish Embassy. The first person he thus ad- 
 dressed, happened to be a Erenohman, who was 
 excessively pulite; but as he had only that day 
 arrived in Naples, he was utterly unable to afford 
 the information he required. Scarcely had the 
 Frenchman passed on his way when Charles 
 de Vere beheld another gentleman approaching 
 bim : but as tho particular street where the in. 
 cident occurred was dark in consequence of the 
 shutters of most of the houses being closed, our 
 hero could not obtain more than the most transient 
 glimpse of the individual's countenance during the 
 lew moments that ho addressed him. 
 
 "Would you have the kindness," iaquired 
 Charles in Italian, " to direct me towards " 
 
 "Excuse me sir— but I have no time to devote 
 to any one : " and the individual passed rapidly 
 by. 
 
 His voice was that of a young man : his tone 
 and manner were sufficiently courteous, although 
 the words which he had spoken were in them- 
 selves anything but polite. Young De Vero could 
 not help gazing after him. Ho was a person of 
 middle stature, apparently well dressed, though he 
 was enveloped in an ample cloak which concealed 
 his undcr-garments: but tho cloak itself was such 
 as only a gentleman might be expected to wear ; 
 while it struck our hero that on the ungloved 
 hand by which the stranger retained the cloak 
 across his chest, a brilliant gem glistened. That 
 ho was an Italian there cuuld be littlo doubt from 
 the accent with which he had spoken. He was 
 speedily lost to tho view in tho gloom of the 
 street; and Charles De Vere began to look out 
 for some other person to whom ho might address 
 himself. 
 
 Ho had not proceeded many yards ere he stop- 
 ped at the portico of a small house, where a lamp 
 was burning; and he halted for the purpose of 
 consulting his watch by means of that light. He 
 found that it was now exactly nine o'clock ; and 
 he was wcndering how long it would take bim to 
 return to the English Embassy, when the door 
 beneath the portico opened, and an elderly female 
 histily stepped forth, followed by a younger 
 The rays of the lamp fell for but a single instant 
 upon the countonaucD of the latter female; for 
 t'ao immediately drew back— and tho only 
 sion concerning ber which remained on the mind 
 of Charles De Tore, was that it was a youthful 
 'lace of which he had thus caught a glimpse. The 
 
 elderly female, on the contrary, lingered for a few 
 moments, while sho rapir.ly demanded, " Are you 
 Count Juliano?" 
 
 -No, no!— it is not he!" said the young 
 female, in a tone which might have either been 
 petulant or affrighted : and at th? same instant 
 she stretched forth her hand to draw the elderly 
 female back. 
 
 At that very same moment Charles Do Vere 
 heard the faint, feeble cry of a young child,— 
 that cry being almost instantaneously stilled as 
 if by a sudden pressure against tho bosom of tho 
 younger female, whom he believed to be the bearer 
 of the babe : for it assuredly was not in the arms 
 of the elder. The door was then closed with 
 some littlo degree of violence, as if to intimate 
 to the youth that he was an intruder in that 
 
 He began to walk away slowly, for somo undo- 
 fined sentiment of curiosity prompted him to 
 linger on the spot. It appeared to him as if ha 
 had already become partially involved in some ad- 
 venture of a mysterious or romantic character, 
 lie turned back a pace or two, and looked at the 
 house. It was of respectable appearance, and 
 moderate dimensions— such an one as might be in- 
 habited by a family in easy circumstances belong- 
 ing to the middle class. Tho glimpse which ha 
 had obtained of tho younger female was too tran- 
 sient, brief, and indistinct to enable him to form a 
 conjecture in respect to her apparel, beyond this 
 one fact, that ho recollected she had an ample 
 black veil thrown upon her head, but which was 
 not completely drawn over her couutenance. His 
 memory served him better in respect to the 
 elderly female— or rather, we should say, he had 
 been allowed more time to observe her, and he re- 
 collected that her face was thin, swarthy, and 
 wrinkled ; while in reference to her apparel, it 
 was that of a respectable citizen's wife— indeed 
 precisely what might have been worn by the mis- 
 tress of the house where the little incident oc. 
 
 It now struck Charles De Vere that tho farther 
 he proceeded along that street the greater wouM 
 bo the distance which he was placing between 
 himself and the British Embassy. He therefore 
 began to retrace his way ; and in so doing he 
 again passed by tho portico of the house to which 
 we have been alluding. At that very moment 
 the door again opened— the elderly female peeped 
 forth ; and Charles— afraid that if ho were seen 
 loitering there, somo sinister design might be 
 imputed to him— crossed rapidly over to the op- 
 posite side of the street, and was hurrying away. 
 But the elderly female sped after him, caught him 
 b/ the arm, and abruptly demanded in the Italian 
 tongue, " Have you any particular business 
 here ?" 
 
 " I would not have you think that I was loiter- 
 ing near these premises," at onco replied our 
 young hero, " for any improper motive, nor 
 through any sentiment of impertinent curi- 
 
 " Tjen what is your motive ?" inquired tho 
 female, fixing upon Charles a pair of keen black 
 eyes which seemed fully capable of penetratinoj 
 the gloom of the evening and piercing deep down 
 into the depths of his soul. 
 
 " When jou found me standing for a moment
 
 316 
 
 S, BEADTT AND PI.EA3DEE. 
 
 beneath your portico," he rejoined, " my object 
 was merely to consult my watch." 
 
 " You are not an Italian ?'* interjected the 
 woman hastily. 
 
 " No— I am an Englishman : I belong to the 
 British Embassy — I have lost my way — and I was 
 looking about for some one of whom to inquire 
 it." 
 
 " Oh, is that all ? Then follow me," said the 
 female quickly : and she added in a more cour- 
 teous tone, " I shall have much pleasure in 
 guiding you to the nearest spot where you may 
 obtain a vehicle to take you to the Embassy." 
 
 But scarcely bad she thus spoken, when from 
 the surrounding gloom a figure rapidly emerged ; 
 and by his cloak Charles at once recognised the 
 individual who had refused him the requisite in- 
 formation some few minutes back. But the 
 culler of his cloak stood so high up, and his 
 broad-brimmed hat so far shaded the upper part 
 of his countenance, that the youth failed even more 
 than on the former occasion to obtain a good view 
 of that face. 
 
 " What means all this delay ?— and who is the 
 stranger ?" inquired the cloaked individual, hastily 
 drawing the elderly female aside. 
 
 The woman whispered a few rapid words in his 
 ear : but what they w^re our hero could not catch. 
 The next instant the cloaked individual was hurry- 
 ing away again ; and he was soon lost in the sur- 
 rounding gloom. 
 
 "Now, sir, follow me," said the elderly female : 
 and Charles De Vere at once obeyed her— for he 
 thought that to linger or to hesitate would be to 
 display an impertinent curiosity in respect to the 
 little incidents, which, however mysterious they 
 seemed, might after all have no real importance. 
 
 The woman led him along at a rapid rate, and 
 without speaking another word, until two or three 
 streets were threaded,— when she stopped short in 
 the immediate neighbourhood of a stand of public 
 vehicles. 
 
 "There, sir," she said: "you can find the 
 means of conveyance to your destination. Good 
 night." 
 
 Charles thanked her— and at once summoning 
 a vehicle, took a seat in it, desiring the driver to 
 bear him to the British Embassy. As the hackney, 
 chaise drove off, Charles from the window caught 
 a glimpse of the elderly female still standing at the 
 corner of the street, as if to watch and assure her- 
 self that he really took his departure. 
 
 "There is something strange in all this !" said 
 our hero to himself, "something which the persons 
 engaged therein do not wish a stranger to obtain 
 an insight into ! It struck me that the cloaked 
 individual was quite young and good-looking i 
 ihe same might be said of the younger female 
 whom I beheld beneath the portico — and yet if I 
 were to meet them both again to-morrow, 1 should 
 not recognise thera by their countenances." 
 
 Meanwhile the vehicle was driving onward 
 through several obscure streets, when all of a 
 sudden there was a crash, followed by a concussion 
 which made our young hero bound upon the seat. 
 He was then thrown so violently forward that his 
 hat was crushed against the front part of the 
 vehicle. The fore axletree had broken j and it 
 was fortunate that Charles escaped with nothing 
 more than the severe shaking and a slight abra- 
 
 sion of the skin on the forehead (as hs aiib- 
 sequently discovered), caused by the dashing in 
 of his hat. 
 
 He was compelled to alight ; and having paid 
 the unfortunate driver his fare, he inquired the 
 nearest way to the Embassy. The man directed 
 him : and Charles, thinking that he thoroughly 
 understood how many turnings he was first of all 
 to take to the right and then how many to tho 
 left, resolved to continue his way on foot. But 
 he soon found himself at fault, for he was thinking 
 of those little incidents which he had regarded as 
 more or less mysterious, and which had to a cer. 
 tain extent piqued his curiosity— so that by giving 
 the rein to his reflections he thoroughly lost his 
 way. On being compelled to make this admission 
 to himself, he looked about him : he was still in 
 a poor and obscure neighbourhood, where the 
 shops were shnt up, .where the thoroughfares 
 were but dimly lighted, and where the street- 
 lamps were but few and far between. Ho was 
 just on the point of accosting some one at a 
 little distance to inquire his way, when a female 
 came rushing towards him ; and an ejaculation 
 of surprise burst from her lips. She was en- 
 veloped in an ample cloak, and she wore a black 
 veil completely over her countenance. The im- 
 mediate impression of Charles De Tere was that 
 this must be the yonnfrer female whom he had 
 seen beneath the portico ; and the idea was 
 strengthed into conviction when the plaintive 
 wail of an infant, issuing from beneath her 
 cloak, reached his ear. 
 
 " You are not what you seem !" she said, in a 
 quick excited tone— but her voice was singularly 
 musical: "or at least you were just now in the 
 portico for some purpose which I cannot fathom ! 
 For heaven's sake tell me !" 
 
 " Most solemnly I declare that I was beneath 
 that portico for the mere purpose of consulting my 
 watch, and with no other design. But you seem 
 to be in distress of mind ? Perhaps you need the 
 
 succour of a friend and it so, tell me how I 
 
 can serve you ?" 
 
 There was something in the tone and manner 
 of Charles De Tere which evidently convinced the 
 veiled stranger that he spoke with a chivalrous 
 sincerity while proffering his services : but perhaps 
 the emergency was so great that it was requisite 
 to trust somewhat to chances. 
 
 " Do you really and truly belong to the British 
 Embassy ?" inquired the young female, in a tone 
 of intensest anxiety. 
 
 "■ I do— on my honour I have asserted the 
 truth !" rejoined Charles, instantaneously compre- 
 hending that his veiled querist must have received 
 the intelligence from her elderly companion at the 
 
 " And your name ?" she demanded, with rapid 
 utterance as before. 
 
 " Charles Do Tere," was the response. " What 
 can I do for you ?" 
 
 " As you have a soul to be saved," exclaimed 
 the young female, " 1 conjure you to save the life 
 of this poor babe ! Plnce the innocent somewhere 
 — make no inquiries— attempt not to fathom this 
 mystery until 1 communicate with you, which shall 
 bo in a few days. For the love' of God refuse 
 me not this favour. It is a matter of life ami 
 death ' ' 
 
 As .she thus spoke in a voice of mingled entreaty
 
 AND PLHASIKE. 
 
 
 
 and anguiab, the young female produced tlie babe 
 from beoeatb her cloak— deposited tbe little bur- 
 den in the arms of Charles De Tere— and mui-- 
 muring in a fervid tone, " Heaven will ble« you 
 for this !" she glided rapidlj awaj. 
 
 The whole incident took place in far less time 
 than we have occupied in tbe description. Our 
 joung hero had been so carried on by his excited 
 feelings of mingled curiosity, astonishment, and 
 sympathy, that he was like one bewildered and stu- 
 pified when the young female's singular request was 
 propounded. He had therefore mechanically re- 
 ceived the child in his arms ; and tbe next mo 
 ment he was standing alone with it there. He 
 had not e^en caught on this occasion a glimpse of 
 the young female's countenance ; so that he feared 
 he should not be able to recognise her again. The 
 whole affair might be very romantic— but it was 
 usaredly still more awkward. For there stood 
 Charlea De Vere, with an infant child in his arms. 
 
 No. 28.-AaSE». 
 
 in the middle of the streets of Xaples, between 
 nine and ten o'clock at night,— he having lu pro- 
 vide aa asylum for the babe, and yet being an 
 almost total stranger in the Neapolitan capital, 
 utterly ignorant to whom he should address him- 
 self to take care of the infant ! He quickly began 
 to repent of the chivalrous impulse which had led 
 him to receive the babe in his arms, until he re- 
 collected the solemn assurance that by his conduct 
 be was saving its life; so that his bettor feelings 
 soon became predominant over his regret for 
 having suffered himself to be drawn into the af- 
 fair. 
 
 But what was he to do P The question was be< 
 wilderment itself. Fortunately the infant waa 
 now sleeping serenely in his arms; so that there 
 were no wailing cries to add to his embarrass- 
 ment, oT consummate what might bo deemed the 
 I ridicLtlous portion of his predicament. He walked 
 I oQward, without having the slightest notioa of
 
 218 
 
 JE, BEACTT iSD PL;;ASCEH. 
 
 what plan he intended to «dopt He was in such 
 a strait that it was impossible be could readily 
 make up his mind to any particular course : he 
 was compelled as it were to trust to tho chapter of 
 accidents. On he went,— until he by accident 
 founil himself close by the spot where the adven- 
 ture had occurred to the hackney. vehicle. Some 
 lialf dozjn people were collected on that spot, ren- 
 dering assistance ; and as Charles De Tere con- 
 templated them for a moment from a short dis- 
 tance, he OTerbeard the driver of the broken 
 vehicle say in a tone of veiation, " It is a bad 
 evening's work for me! It nas the only fare I 
 had obtained all day ; and though the gentleman 
 paid me liberally, it will not a quarter make up 
 the cost of the accident, for which I myself ahall 
 have to pay." 
 
 An idea struck our young hero. Hastening 
 forward, he bade the man step aside with him for 
 a few moments; and when the Neapolitan recog- 
 nised the gentleman who had pail him eo libe- 
 rally, he at once obeyed. But he looked with 
 astocisbment at the burden which Ctiarles bore in 
 bis arms, — though he said nothing until our hero 
 himself renewed the conversation. This ha did 
 80 soon as tbey were at a eui'ablc distance from 
 the persons collected about the broken vehicle. 
 
 '■ So you will have to pay for this accident ?" 
 said Charles, thus abruptly initiaring the dis- 
 toatte. 
 
 " The worse luck for me," answered the Neapo- 
 litan. "I hire the equipage by the day, of an 
 extensive jubbiug-master; and I have to pay for 
 all accidents." 
 
 " Are you a married man ?" demanded Charles. 
 
 *'Ye8 — and there again's the worse luck! For 
 
 poor Benedetta — that's my wife— will have 
 
 scarcely bread to-morrow to give the children, of 
 
 which we have five.'' 
 
 "And what is your name?" inquired our young 
 hero, putting his questions with r.ipidity. 
 
 " Jf ino Corso," rejoined the roan ; " and though 
 I say it, signer, it is an honest name, because an 
 honest person bears it." 
 
 " Will you and your wife take charge of this 
 child ?" demanded De Vere : " you shiill be libe- 
 rally paid in advance,— I will tell you who I am 
 — I will give you a proof that I am what I re- 
 present myself-hut you must ask no qutjstions — 
 and you must be secret." 
 
 "It is a bargain, signer !" exclaimed Nino 
 Curso eagerly,—" provided that you fulfil all your 
 share of the compact !" [ 
 
 " Lead me to your house— and you shall see." 
 " Ah ! my house indeed !"' ejaculated the Nea- 
 politan, with a laugh half merry, half bitter : " it 
 is one room in an attic ! But it happens to be 
 close by ; and such as it is, signor, you will be 
 welcome." 
 
 This discourse had taken place in the imme 
 diate neighbourhood of a lamp, the beams of which 
 had shown Charles De Vere that Nino Corso was a 
 man of about eight andthirty or forty— with an 
 embrowned complexion, rather good-looking fea- 
 tures, and a frank, open, honest expression of 
 countenance. On the other hand the Neapolitan 
 himself had every reason to be satisfied with his 
 survey of the youth's appearance : so that their 
 epinion on these points was mutually good. 
 Chulea had likewise bent a look upon the babe : 
 
 but be was not sufficiently skilled in infantine 
 matters to be enabled to tell its age— though h« 
 fancied that it could be scarcely six weeks old. 
 It was decently apparelled, and was enveloped in 
 a large shawl. 
 
 Nino Corso quic'ily led th" way t . the house in 
 which he dwtlt, and which fj.-tunately happened 
 to be barely a hundred yards distant. He led the 
 way up a dart staircase tci the highest storey of 
 the building; and he conducted the young Eag> 
 lishman into a room of poverty-stricken appear- 
 ance, where five voting children lay huddled to- 
 gether in a sorry bed made upon the Soor, and 
 where a good-looking though somewhat carewora 
 woman, of about twoand-thirty, was preparing * 
 meagre supper against her husband's return. 
 N'.t iijimediately perceivin:; that he was accom- 
 panied by any one, Bunedetta gave her husband • 
 kind word and a caress; so that Charles De Vera 
 said to himself, " Taese are really good people ! — 
 and providence has befriended me on this poor in- 
 nocent babes behalf !" 
 
 Nino Cjrso requesed De Vere to enter; and in 
 a few' words he explained to his wife the pro- 
 posal which had been made. Benedetta at once 
 consented ; and she took the child in her arms. 
 
 Fortunately De Vere's purse was well supplied 
 with coin at the moment ; for he had filled it oa 
 issuing from the E ubassy, on account of the 
 purchases which he had to make, but which had 
 not cost him half as much as he had anticipited. 
 He spread upon the table as much Neapolitan 
 coin as would make the sum of about ten pounds 
 in Eoglish money ; and both Nino and Benedetta 
 gave vent to ejacuUUoos of j ly, fur in their eyes 
 the amount was a perfect fortune. Cuarles then 
 gave bis card, which described him as an attach^ 
 to the British Euibassy: but this proceeding was 
 quite needless, the gold being considered an ade- 
 quate guarantee of his respectability and good 
 faith. He enjoined the man and his wife to main- 
 tain the strictest silence and secrecy ; and having 
 promised to call upon them again shortly, he took 
 his departure,— Nino showing him the way to the 
 nearest stand of public vehicles The young 
 Englishman bade him good night, and returned 
 to the embassy, marvelling in no small degree at 
 the adventure which had befallen him. 
 
 CHAPIER XXXVII. 
 
 Il was in the f.^renom nf t'le day following the 
 iocidects w'aich we have just detailed, that C:urles 
 De Vere again rambled forth by himself partially 
 with the intention of seeking Nino Corso's lodg- 
 ings and inquiring after the infant of whom he 
 had as it were become the guardian, and partially 
 that he might be altogether alone to reflfct upon 
 evervthing which had so recently occurred to him. 
 The other gentlemen attached to the Embissy had 
 invited our young hero to accompany them on an 
 expedition to Vesuvius: but he preferred to be 
 alone— and by had therefore on some pretext de- 
 clined their pressing entreaties. He was in a 
 ' complete state of suspense: his curioatty was M-
 
 i; OK, BKACTY . 
 
 rLEAaUUB. 
 
 210 
 
 tiled to the utmost : he longed to latbom the 
 mjstery of thi3 adventure in which he was 
 plunged. He had read Italian novels, romances, 
 and newspapers : he knew thai in Italy there were 
 frequent tales of real life more eitraordinary 
 than any wblich belonged to the sphere of fiction ; 
 and it seemed as if it had been destined that 
 he should not be many dayo on the Italian soil be- 
 fore his actual expei iencos were to corroborate the 
 romantic imaginings which he hai entertained 
 previous to breathing the atmosphere uf this clime. 
 He knew likewise that in these romances of real 
 life love was no mean motive power, and that the 
 darker passions of jealousy and vengeance agi- 
 tated beneath the surface of society, as the pent- 
 up lava of Vesuvius boiled within its mountain- 
 bosom ; — and though we cannot say that Charles 
 T)e Vere actually entertained any apprehension in 
 respect to the adventure wherein he had become 
 engnged, yet in his almost utter ignorance of 
 its details he perceived the necessity of acting a 
 cautious part and being upon his guard. 
 
 The reader may perhaps wonder that he did 
 not at once seek out the obscure quarter of the 
 city in which that house was situated where he 
 had seen the elderly female and the younger one, 
 and there prosecute certain inquiries so as to 
 ascertain who were the occupants of that habita- 
 tion. But our young hero possessed a loftiness of 
 soul and a magnanimity of disposition which per- 
 haps Would have been more worthy of a bygone 
 age of chivalry than of the practical matter-of- 
 fact period of the present day. He therefore 
 considered himself in honour bound to obey not 
 only to the letter, but even in the very spirit, the 
 injunctions which the young lady had given him. 
 "Jlake no inquiries; attempt not to fathom this 
 mt/steri/ until I communicate with you, which 
 »haU be in a few dai/s." Thus bad she spoken ; 
 and her earnest entreaty had been instantaneously 
 followed up by the solemn a'Jjuration — "For the 
 Uve of God rtfuse me not this favour .'" Thus, 
 though Charles De Vere had in reality made no 
 pledge on his own account, he considered that he 
 was placed by circumstances precisely in the same 
 light as if from his lips had gone forth the most 
 •acred of oaths to fulfil that young lady's demand. 
 And if he sought the neighbourhood where he be- 
 lieved that alie dwelt— if he were seen lurking 
 about there— would she not instantaneously sup- 
 pose that regardless of her entreaty, he was 
 abandoning himself only to the impulse of his 
 ouritsily ? This would be mean, ungenerous, 
 unhandsome on his part ; and he said to himself, 
 "No I— as I have thus far become entangled in an 
 adventure so strange and mysterious, I will suffer 
 it to take its own natural course in developing its 
 sec-cts to my knowledge !" 
 
 But let it be well understood that though this 
 was the resolve to which Charles De Vere had pre- 
 viously brought his mind, and in which he was now 
 only strengthening his determination by such say- 
 ings as these, he was not the less a prey to the 
 most exciting curiosity. He felt restless and un- 
 settled ; and thus, having avoided the society of 
 his companions of the Embassy, he was now wan- 
 dering forth without any fixed purpose in view, 
 unless it were to be alone with his reflections. He 
 was proceeding along one of the principal streets, 
 when he pasted a church firum the open portals of 
 
 which came rolling forth the rich tones of a mag. 
 nificent organ. Charles De Vere was passionately 
 fond of music ; and he had always loved the sacred 
 harmony which swells beneath the vaulted roofs of 
 temples of worship. He entered the church ; and 
 with hat in hand, as well as with noiseless foot- 
 steps, he advanced towards the congregation 
 mbled in front of the altar at which the 
 priests were officiating. It being a week-day, 
 this congregation was chiedy composed of the 
 middle and lower orders; and for the most part- 
 as may be seen in nearly all Catholic countries — 
 the worshippers were females. It was a very 
 handsome church : there were several altars and 
 hapels separated by superb screens of sculptured 
 aasonry. In order not to seem singular amidst 
 the devout assemblage, nor to offend any native 
 
 ligious prejudice by having the air of a lounger 
 ■awn thither by mere curiosity, Charles took one 
 of the chairs which were vacant, and knelt in it, 
 —thus following the example of the rest. 
 
 As he was furtively gazing upon those who 
 were immediately in front of him, his eyes settled 
 upon a female figure kneeling in a chair three otf 
 four rows nearer to the altar. A dark velvet 
 bodice, fitting tightly to the form, displayed a 
 most admirable symmetry; while the mantilla-like 
 veil, which had fallen back, disclosed a beautifully 
 sliaped head. The skirt of the lady's dress was 
 of a pale silk: but even while she knelt, it do. 
 fined as it were the ssreepiug length of the lower 
 liinbs. Her sleeves, which descended but little 
 below the elbow, revealed portions of the exqui. 
 sitely modelled arms; and dark auburn tresses lay 
 like burnished gold upon the snowy neck. She 
 was evidently young, though Charles could not 
 see her face ; and he felt convinced that this face 
 must be beautiful. 
 
 Now, perhaps our readers will imagine that al! 
 
 !se were traitorous symptoms on the part of 
 Charles De Vera— traitorous towards the beauteous 
 Agnes Evelyn to whom his heart and his vows were 
 alike pledged. But no perfidious idea entered the 
 brain of our young hero ; and indeed so faithful 
 was he to our bc.iuteous heroine, that he would 
 have fled from any adventure of gallantry even \t 
 it bad presented itself, so that he was by no means 
 likely to seekjjne of his own accord. But still it 
 may be permitted to the most faithful lover to 
 regard with a certain degree of interest the appear- 
 ance of an attractive female, without any ulterior 
 thought; and so it was in the present instance* 
 Charles was moreover struck by her exceeding de- 
 votion : for though her back was towards hira, yei 
 could he perceive by a variety of indications that sua 
 was thus devout. Presently she stooped to pick up 
 her kerchief: then he caught a gliuapse of her sido. 
 face — he beheld the profile for a single momcnt| 
 with that half-vanishing effect which Eembrandt 
 loves to impart to his pictures; and as it happened 
 that a streak of light was slanting through a 
 window fully upon this young lady's countenance, 
 the big tear-drops trickling down her cheek, glis- 
 tened perceptibly. And young she was — and beau* 
 tiful too, as Charles had already surmised ; and La 
 wond'-Tcd why she should be thus moved to weeping. 
 For since bis entry into the church the music had 
 been grand rather than affecting; and it therefore 
 seemed to him as if this young lady were weeping 
 as a penitent, and undnr the influence as it vrere
 
 AG neb; OB, BEACTT 
 
 PLEAS tTEB. 
 
 of her uwn inward thoughts rather than of exteroal 
 
 j Almost immediatelj afterwards the service con. 
 ■ eluded — the congregation rose and began to dis- 
 I perse in different directions. Charles now lost 
 sight of the weeping fair one: indeed he was not 
 any longer seeking her with his ejes— for his feeling 
 of interest had not carried him to that point at 
 which he might reallj be deemed traitorous to his 
 love for the far-distant Agnes Erelyn. There were 
 several beautiful monuments, chapels, and paintings 
 in the church ; and our hero tarried to survey 
 tbem. In the course of a few minutes the auburn* 
 haired stranger was completely absent from bis 
 memory: his thoughts had partially relapsed into 
 the channel which received its impulse from the 
 incidents of the preceding evening; and bis atten- 
 ticn was partially drawn to the objects of interest 
 which he was contemplating. This was the first 
 time he had been in an Italian church ; and he 
 found much to admire. At length he began to 
 think that as all the congregation had withdrawn, 
 he stood a chance of being locked inside the build. 
 ing; so that be began to bend his hasty steps 
 towards the entrance. Bat now he heard the 
 Bounds of weeping and lamentation; and a female 
 voice was giving vent to self-reproaches, as he 
 could tell by the accents, though he could not catch 
 the words which she uitered. Full of the most 
 mournful harmony was that voice ; and its tones, 
 eo replete with affliction and grief, went to the 
 very heart of our generous young hero. He could 
 not precisely tell from which direction came these 
 notes of woe, as he had halted at the moment be 
 tween two pillars which concealed the mourner, 
 whoever she were, frura bis view, and the echoes of 
 the vast vaulted edifice were deceptive. "VV^ith the 
 intuitive dread of intruding upon a grief which, 
 whatever its cause, must in such a place be deemed 
 sacred, Charles De Tere, treading lightly— indeed 
 with almost noiseless footsteps — was continuing bis 
 vay towards the main entrance, when on passing 
 round one of the pillars, he came suddenly in sight 
 of a female form kneeling in front of an altar in 
 one of the small chapels. And that form was the 
 one which had already to some little extent at. 
 tracted his attention during the performance of 
 the service. 
 
 He could not help stopping short and gazing 
 upon the beauteous penitent as she there knelt. 
 She did not perceive him : she was completely ab- 
 sorbed in her mingled devotions and lamentations. 
 Her lips merely murmured a few broken expres- 
 sions; and still without catching their complete 
 sense, Charles nevertheless gathered sufficient to 
 make him aware that she was imploring heaven's 
 mercy and forgiveness. Now she buried her face 
 in her kerchief and wept passionately : then she 
 folded her arms across her bosom and prayed in 
 I deep silence. Since Charles first noticed her in 
 1 the midst of the congregation, she had placed an 
 t elegant lace cap upon her head; but the mantilla 
 j or veil-like scarf lay by her side on the stone steps 
 I of the altar. Every now and then he caught a 
 I anotner glimpse of ber profile : but not once did he 
 j behold her full face during the three or four minutes 
 i that he remained riveted to the spot thus gssing 
 ' opoD her. Then, suddenly recollecting that he was 
 doinp ibe very thing which he had first of all 
 Btudied '.o avoid — namely, intruding upon the 
 
 sanctity of her penitential devotions— he glided 
 behind the pillar and made his exit from the 
 church, without having been noticed by the afflicted 
 stranger. 
 
 Yet why had he lingered even those few minutest 
 Because his soul was filled with an illimitable com- 
 passion for one who though so young was evidently 
 acquainted with much grief, — and this grief he 
 feared was not altogether unassociatcd with faults 
 and errors on ber own part. She could not be 
 more than nineteen or twenty, eo far as he was 
 enabled to judge without having obtained a view 
 of her full face. She was well though not richly 
 dressed ; but she was in the morning costume which 
 every lady, whatsoever her rank, might wear ; and 
 there was a certain grace and elegance about her 
 which would have made her look the ladg, no 
 matter what her apparel might have been. Had 
 that young heart become acquainted with guilt ? — 
 did that youthful bosom harbour a conscience 
 suffering the pangs of remorse ? There was some- 
 thing terrible as well as mournfully interesting in I 
 the spectacle, and this is why Charles De Tere j 
 lingered:— for he would have lingered just the 
 same even if Agnes had been leaning upon his arm I 
 at the time! ! 
 
 He went forth from the church, his mind full of I 
 all that he had seen ; and he continued his way i 
 through the streets without heeding the direction 
 which he was taking, or indeed without having 
 any settled purpose in view. Thus he wandered 
 on for some time, until at length he stopped short 
 and looked about him. The name of the street 
 where ho had thus halted was printed on a small 
 board at the corner ; and he found it to be the one 
 in which Kino Corso dwelt : for the hackney-coach 
 driver had mentioned his address before Charles De 
 Vere took leave of him on the preceding evening. 
 
 " Since I am in this quarter," said our young 
 hero to himself, " I will visit Nino Corso, and see 
 how his good wife Benedetta gets on with the poor 
 little infant whom circumstances have for the 
 nonce thrown as it were under my guardianship. 
 Besides, it almost seems as if heaven itself had 
 directed my steps hither, while I was coming 
 through the streets utterly careless of the way 
 which I was taking." 
 
 We have already said that Nino Corso and his 
 family inhabited a lodging on the highest storey of 
 the bouse where they dwelt, and which was let out 
 to a variety of other tenants. There was a large 
 gateway which always stood open in the day.time ; 
 and no door protected the entrance to the staircase, 
 which was a little way under the arch of that gate- 
 way. De Vc-re began to ascend the stairs; and he 
 had nearly reached the highest landing— indeed 
 he was just in si^-ht of it — when the door of the 
 room which he sought was suddenly opened, and 
 Benedetta peeped forth with a countenance which 
 at once struck our hero as being full of anxiety 
 —though all in a moment it cleared up when she 
 recognised him. Yet, without giving utterance to a 
 word, she instantaneously withdrew into the room. 
 Charles then caught some hasty ejaculation escap. 
 
 en the 
 
 lips- 
 
 -but what 
 
 kne« 
 
 t a very tall man, completely 
 mulil'.-d in a large travelling-cloak, rushed forth 
 from that room, made one stride across the land- 
 ing and disappeared by an opposite door, whicli 
 evidently communicated with another room.
 
 )E, BEAUTY AND rLEABUBI. 
 
 I Our hero thought that this incident was some- 
 I what singular : but be continued bis way, and in a 
 1 few moments reached the top of the staircase. 
 I Benedetta nrw again issued forth, and invited him 
 I to enter. Ui-r countenance was composed — unless 
 j it were that there was a slight glittering 
 uoeasiness in her dark ejes as she saw that Charles 
 was evidently marvelling what could be the mean- 
 ing of the little incident which had just happened. 
 He entered the room, wondering for a moment 
 whether he should find her husband there : but 
 Nino Coreo was not present. It struck him that 
 Benedetta was not altoijether the true wife which 
 Nino doubtless believed her to be, and that she 
 was somewhat too intimate with her neighbour on 
 the same floor. But when he beheld all her 
 children in the room — when he looked again upon 
 her countenance and saw that if it were not com- 
 pletely composed, it expressed only a mild depreca- 
 tion of any injurious suspicion on his part — he 
 thought to himself, " I must not judge too quickly 
 bj appearances ; for in every other respect she has 
 thoroughly the air of a correct and virtuous 
 
 He remembered the kiss with which she had 
 welcomed her husband's return on the preceding 
 eTecing — a glance showed him that her children 
 though poorly clad, were all scrupulously neat and 
 clean— and the babe whom he had confided to her, 
 was sleeping in a new cradle, which had been 
 evidently bought that morning out of the liberal 
 funds which he had left behind him. Everything, 
 therefore, seemed to forbid the thought that 
 Benedetta could be a bad woman;— and yet that 
 incident of the cloaked individual rushing so 
 hastily from her room and disappearing in the 
 opposite one, troubled our young hero's mind. 
 That it was not the cloaked stranger of the pre. 
 ceding night, he was confident ; for the individual 
 whom he had just seen Hit across the landing was 
 much taller than the other to whom we have just 
 alluded. 
 
 *' Welcome, signer," said Benedetta, in a tone 
 which struck Charles as being slightly tremulous; 
 " though I did not expect you so soon — for you gave 
 Nino and me to understand that you would return 
 in a few days." 
 
 " I am indeed afraid," replied Charles De Vere, 
 looking her steadily in the face, " that I am an 
 intruder at this particular moment." 
 
 " No, signor," answered Benedetta: and for an 
 instant her lip quivered, though with her large 
 black eyes she untlinchingly met our young hero's 
 look. "My little charge," she continued, some- 
 what more quietly, as if to turn the conversation 
 — and she glanced towards the cradle — " has 
 taken to me wondrously. He's a healthy boy." 
 
 " Of what age do you suppose ?" inquired 
 Charles. 
 
 " What, signor ! do you not know ?" exclaimed 
 Benedetta in astonishment. ** Surely " 
 
 ** The child is nut mine," interrupted our hero, 
 apeakiog gravely, and with a slight flush upon the 
 countenance : but yet there was all the frankness 
 of an unquestionable sincerity in his tone and 
 look. " But I desired most emphatically that no 
 questions should be asked me." 
 
 "True, signor!" said Benedetta, respectfully 
 *nd humbly. " I was very wrong to judge by 
 appearances : for appcai-aitccs" she added sigoifl- 
 
 221 
 
 estimated at a lirsl 
 
 cantly, " never ought to 
 glance." 
 
 " Let that be an understanding between us,** 
 rejoined Charles, with an equal degree of signifi. 
 cancy ; so that Benedetta's countenance brightened 
 up— for his words were as much as to imply that 
 if she would not judge him suspiciously in respect I 
 to the child, he would be equally careful in ar- I 
 riving at a rapid conclusion with regard to the I 
 incident of the cloaked stranger. } 
 
 " The infant, signor," she proceeded to say, now 1 
 speaking more cheerfully and with more good 
 humoured frankness than at first, " is about six 
 weeks old." 1 
 
 " Six weeks," muttered Chavles, half audibly : I 
 " that was the idea which struck me last night, i 
 And now tell me, lienederta," he continued, " have 
 you discovered any initials upon the clothing of 
 
 
 
 
 " Nothing of all that, signor," answered the 
 woman ; and still she could not help gazing on 
 him with astonishment — though the expression of 
 her curiosity was confined to her looks, and did 
 not again allow itself vent in questioning. 
 
 Charles had not put tijose queries with any idea 
 of obtaining a clue to the mystery into which ho 
 considered himself bound not to seek by any un- 
 due means to penetrate : ho merely wished to dis- 
 cover whether the woman herself had got upon 
 the track of any such clue. Her answer was thus 
 far satisfactory ; and Charles, now rising from the 
 seat which he had taken, bent over the child as it 
 slept in its cradle. It was a beautiful babe ; and 
 our young hero felt a mournful interest in the 
 little innocent who was already, so to speak, the 
 victim of some calamity, though itself utterly un. 
 conscious thereof, 
 
 " Where is your husband ?" inquired Charles, 
 resuming his seat. " But I presume that he is 
 busy in superintending the repairs required by hie 
 vehicle ?" 
 
 " He stepped out, signor, about ten minutes 
 ago to see how they were getting on," answered 
 Benedetta; "and I expect that he will return 
 every moment." 
 
 The answer was given quite naturally ; and yet 
 Charles De \'ere could not help thinking that it 
 sought to convey a more pointed meaning than 
 that which belonged to a simple response to a 
 casually put question. It appeared as if Bene- 
 detta had intended to give him to understand that 
 her' husband's absence was on this occasion so 
 brief and so temnorary it would be ridiculous to 
 suppose that there wns iiny evil intention in her 
 reception of the iudivi lual whom Charles had seen 
 gliding across the Uulioj, — or rather who39 
 
 flled form he had seen, lor not the slightest 
 glimpse hud he obtaiaea of that person's counte- 
 nance. 
 
 :cordiog as Benedetta had intimated, Nino 
 Corso returned in a few minutes : and he ex- 
 pressed his delight at seeing our young hero. 
 After some little conversation, Charles rose to 
 take his leave : and Kino descended with him 
 into the street. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, signor," said the man s 
 " but if the infant is to remain altogether out at 
 nurse, I hope you will leave it entirely with Ueue. 
 delta : for though she has children of her own, 
 fill be like a mother to it— snd your liberality
 
 222 AOS£8; on, BBAOir iXD PLEASrBB. 
 
 I do uol hesitate to confess is of tbe greutust «er- feuinle's countenance inside the portico of the 
 vice to poor creatures lilte us." bouse, that if he were now put iuto tbe witness* 
 
 " My good fellow," replied Charles, " I have box of a court of justice be could not on his oath 
 already tuld your wife that tbe child is not mine— alPirru that tbe face he had then seen was identical 
 and I miy add that I know indeed but very little . with tbe one be bad just beholden. Nevertheless, 
 about it. 1 am not the arbiter of its destinies, on tbe other band, he was morally certain that it 
 But you must ask me no questions; for in respect was so. Be it recollected that when the infant 
 even to the little I do know, I can give no expla- child w,is placed in his arms, the young femalt 
 nations." . [ was so closely veiled be could discern nuught of 
 
 Having thus spoken, somewhat curtly, though her features; and she likewise had worn a mantle, 
 kindly enough, Charles De Vere hurried away. ; But Charles remembered tbe stature; and il was 
 Nothing else wortliy of mention occurred to our ' precisely tbe same as that of the young lady in 
 hero during the remainder of that day. In the . tbe velvet bodice. In imagination be clothed the 
 forenoon of the ensuing one ho had to attend at latter with such a mantle as was worn by her 
 the French Embassy, to transact some little busi. , from whose bands he bad received the child : and 
 ness according to the instructions of bis own ' he felt assured that tbe personal appearance would 
 diplomatic chief, the English Ambassador. This , be identical. And then too, this young lady in 
 occupied him for about an hour ; and be was | the velvet bodice was alBicted, was sulFering deep 
 sauntering through tbe street on bis way home. ; menjal distress, and was pursued by some romorsa. 
 ward, when be happened to pass the church where i 'Was not this circumstance aa'jtber reason to con- 
 he had seen tbe fair penitent on the preceding ^ firm our hero's suspicion that this lady was idon- 
 day. He glanced up the ascent of steps towards , tical with tbe one whom he bad hitherto thought 
 its portals ; and just at that instant he caught a ' of only as the heroine of the mysterious ^dven- 
 _glimpse of the symmetrical figure, with the velvet tores of the other night? 
 
 bodice, tbe pale silk skirt, and tbe lace mantilla Charles Be Vere naturally experienced a degree 
 veil. The next moment the red baize-covered door , of curiosity that was most poignantly excited by 
 opening into tbe church, closed behiad that form ; , the reflections which thus swept through his 
 and Charles was about to pass on, when a feeling ^ brain. Two adventures which until now had ap. 
 which he could not resist, made him linger — then ' peared separate and distinct, were linking thom- 
 stop short — and then enter the church. But let selves together; and circumstances seemed to be 
 it not be supposed that this feeling was either one gradually falling into a channel which should lead 
 of impertinent curiosity, or yet of a character onward to a developmei.t of all mysteries. But 
 whereat Agnes might be offended : it was the , still the youth would not now accost tbe young 
 emanation of a generous heart experiencing the . lady; for if she beheld him there, would she not 
 interest of sympathy and comojiseration for the at once surmise that he was purposely espying 
 woes of a fellow-creature who was so young to be her proceedings? and would she believe that 
 so deeply afflicted. ' accident bad alone Uun^' him in her way on tho 
 
 Tbe service was near upon its conclusion; and ' present occasion? On the other hand, be cculd 
 tbeyoung lady, instead of mingling with tho con- . nut make up his mind to quit the church imme. 
 gregation, or approaching the altar at which the , diaiely, and voluntarily abandon the very track 
 priests were officiating, diverged towards the , on which accident or providence had set htm in 
 chf pel in which Charles bad seen her penitentiuUy respect to tbe elucidation of those mysteries with 
 kncflUng on the preceding day. He was half in. ■ which he was more or less intimately concerned, 
 clined to speak to her — to ask whether it were [ "While be was thus standing irresolute and uu- 
 possible that he could render her a service ?— but , decided behind the pillar, his ear suddenly caught 
 a second thought made him aware of the impro- , the sounds of a man's footsteps on the pavement : 
 priety of such a step, and be therefore hung back, then there was a halt, immediately followed by the 
 Still he lingered in the shade of one of the pillars ; abrupt yet low-uttered ejaculation, " Ah, Ginevra ! 
 and there be stood contemplating the form of the you here?" 
 
 lady, who was by this time kneeling in front of I " Yos, Silvio— I am here," replied that soft 
 the little altar. For a few minutes she seemed to mournful musical voice which Charles immediately 
 be praying devoutly and profoundly, with her \ recognised to be that of the young lady whose 
 kerchief concealing her face : but presently she , lamentations he had heard on the preceding day 
 withdrew that kerchief — she rose from her kneel- , at tbe altar of the little chapel, 
 ing posture— she turned round — and our young j And now the conviction smote bis mind with 
 hero had only just time to disappear completely I the rapidity of a flash of lightning that it was 
 behind tbe column in order to avoid being seen precisely the same voice as that in which the 
 by her ; for he would not have it thought that he young cloaked female had spoken when she had 
 was watching her proceedings. But now for the placed tbe child in his arms. He wondered that 
 first time he bad caught a full view of her face ; be had not before recognised it— though this 
 and though tbe glimpse was so transient, yet did really was not extraordinary, for the rapid and 
 it make an immediate and powerful impression excited tone in which she had spoken when eu- 
 upr.o him. I trusting tbe infant to his charge, was different 
 
 " It must be the same !" he said to himself : from the accents of anguish in which her lamenta- 
 "yes, it must be the same! I cannot be mis- | tions, her repinings, and her selfaccusiags had 
 taken !" 1 been made at the altar. Both voices were musical 
 
 But still he was scarcely so sure as -his self- , — but the tones and notes of the melody wera 
 musings might seem to indicate : for on tbe night different on the two occasions. Now, however, 
 of memorable adventures he had caught so very all doubt was cleared up ; and the identity of tlis 
 fleeting and transitory a glimpse cf the younger ' young cloaked female who bad accosted him in
 
 ASSES ; 
 
 the rtreet, with the young ladj at the church, wos 
 fully and completely established. Charles De Vere 
 was riveted to the spot behind the stately column : 
 the thought never struck him that he might be 
 guilty or impropriety in pliyiog the part of eaves- 
 dropper, or that be was now actually violating the 
 pledge he had inwardly taken not to seek to 
 fathom the mystery ur.til it should suit the pur- 
 poses of the lady herself to clear it up. 
 
 "Yes, Silvio-I am here," was the answer 
 which she had given to the ejaculation of the in- 
 dividual by whom she was accosted. "Is not this 
 the most fitting place," she asked, in a voice of 
 profouodest sorrow, "for one so guilty and so 
 wretched as I, to frequent ?' 
 
 " Ginevra, dearest Ginevra 1" responded Silfio, ' from your aunt and myself ' 
 
 whoso vi.ice was that of quite a young man j " Were you not whispering to my aunt, Silvio?" 
 —and Charles felt convinced it was the s-ime inquired Ginevra; "and whit, under existing cir- 
 which he had likewise heard on the night of cumstances, could you have had to say to her that 
 memorable adventu.-ee; so that he was now en- I might not overhear ? Oh, a terrible suspicion 
 abled to identify Silvio with the cloaked indivi- flashed to my mind !" 
 
 dual who had answered him so abruptly when he " Ginevra, did you— did you really think" — and 
 had inquired his way, and who had afterwards Silvio gasped,- "did you really think that I wai 
 
 come up at the moment when he viras speaking to capable-: " 
 
 tjie elderly female. " Why do you abandon your- "Heaven knows if I wrong you!" responded 
 grief? You surely love me no Ginevra; " and" your conscience can acquit you if 
 But all the 
 
 your own person, bnt actually invoking them as it 
 were upon my iiead ! All this is terrible, 
 Ginevra]— and it is enough to drive me mad! 
 You ask me why I am still in Naples l-and I 
 tell you that I cjonot depart hence so long as by 
 your own conduct you are perilling everything. 
 Y'ou know that 1 could not seek you at your own 
 mansion; but reracmbe'ing that you were in the 
 habit of frequenting this church, I came hither in 
 the hope of meeting you. And we have met ! I 
 might have written— but letters were useless in 
 my ignorance of what your present thoughts and 
 intentions might be -useless also in mv ignorance 
 of what you have done with our child ! When 
 the night before hist you so suddenly broke away 
 
 to love 
 
 I have done you this much inju 
 anxiety of a mother — though a guilty and a 
 miserable one — was suddenly excited in my bosom; 
 and I acted under that impulse ! Now listen to 
 me, Silvio ! Th- babe is safe -I know that it is- 
 and so soon as my mind shall have somewhat re- 
 covered from all the fearful shocks it has recently 
 experienced, I will take measures to place it in 
 other keeping whore the secret shall be inviolably- 
 maintained. Oil this head, therefore, you have 
 nothing to fear. You must deem me mad it you 
 suppose that I am noi as deeply interested as 
 clamatory from ' yourself in throwing the darkest veil possible over 
 
 " Ah 1 now you are speaking rationally, dearest 
 rioevra!" said the young man in a tone which 
 
 implied great mental relief. "Ob, my belove I '* 
 
 'Silence, Silvio! silence!" interrupted Ginevra 
 
 longer- 
 
 " Heaven knows that I oujht 
 Silvio!" she replied; "for this love of our's has 
 been fatal to my happiness —and what is infinitely 
 worse, fatal to the welfare of my immortal soul ! 
 But you, Silvio — what are you doing here ? Why 
 are you still in Naples? Methought that after the 
 message I sent you by my aunt, you would have 
 done me this last favour— you would have fled at 
 once and returned to Vienna " 
 
 "What, ijioevra! and leave everything in a 
 »late of frightful uncertainty ?" exclaimed Silvio : 
 but though his accents were 
 the impulse of his emotions, his utterance was 
 cuardediy low. "Tell me — 1 beseech you, tell me, 
 Ginevra! what have you done with the child !" 
 
 "Do not ask me, Silvio !" she vehemently re. 
 sponded: "you shall never know! No, no ! I i 
 will not place that dear innocjnt within your i firmly. " Wj stand beneath a sacred roof and in 
 reach ! Heaven and yourself, Silvio, alone can ' the neighbourhood of a holy fane. Words expres. 
 tell— unless indeed my aunt was the accomplice of , sive of a guiiry love must not here issue from our 
 jour design " 1 lips— no, n.r elsewhere, Silvio (—never, never 
 
 " Ginevra, do you suspect me ?" .again! But if you wish that my mind should 
 
 " Alas ! I ftar that I have only too much reason speedily recver somewhat of its lost strength, so 
 to suspect something dreadful ! Why was it that that I may be enabled to take the final measures 
 an idea of the kind seemed suddenly to flash in ' which are requisite for the insurance of the safety 
 unto my mind, as if heaven itself thus abruptly of our secret, you will at once solemnly pledge 
 placed me on my guard, that I might save the yourself to depart from N,iple3— to return in all 
 poor innocent babe ?" haste to Vienna " 
 
 "Ginevra!" interrupted the young man, "be-' "Oh! sufier me, Ginevra," interjected Silvio, 
 ware what course you are pursuing ! You have , in accents of earnest entreaty, " to know where 
 become headstrong and self-willed— and you may ' our babe now is, and to learn what intentions yen 
 possibly ruin everything ! You are placing me ' entertain concerning that innocent for the future : 
 
 on the brink of a frightful precipice ; you have j Am I not its lather ? have I not a right " 
 
 already walked up to the very edge of it yourself I " Silvio," rejoined Ginevra, " all the right to 
 You will not be counselled nor advised " dispose of tint babe rests with me, its guilty and 
 
 " If you mean, Silvio," answered Ginevra, in unhappy mother ! Ah, if you knew how terriiic 
 accents of mingled sorrow and reproach, "that I ' is the weiglit which lies upon my soul, you would 
 
 suddenly became mistrustful of the designs of my j pity me my God! you would pity me! I 
 
 aunt and yourself in reference to the poor babe, ' feel as if the gales of heaven were for ever closed 
 
 you are right ! I will suoner dare everything— 1 against me- — — " 
 
 discovery, dishonour, and disgrace " "Oh, it is this— it is this, Ginevra!" ei- 
 
 " And you are daring all these!" interjected ! claimed Silvio passionately, "which I fear more 
 Silvio vehemently J-" not mere'y daring them in ' than anything !"
 
 AQSB3; Oa, BBADIT iSP PLEASUBB. 
 
 in, Silvio ?" demaaded 
 lingled aurpriso and re- 
 
 " What do you u 
 Ginevra, in accents of 
 proacbfulness. 
 
 " I mean," he answered with rapid and excited 
 utterance, *' this yielding on jour part to religious 
 terrors— this abandonment of jour soul to super- 
 stitious influence In a word, Ginevra, tell mo 
 
 —reply to me, I entreat and conjure you! has 
 our tremendous secret been yet revealed in the 
 confessional ?" 
 
 " Ko— not yet, Silvio," she replied, in a voice of 
 calm firmness. 
 
 " Not yet ! Then you mean me to understand 
 that it is your intention " 
 
 "It is my intentioD, Silvio," rejoined Ginevra, 
 in the same calm firm tone as before, " to fulfil the 
 ordinances of my creed— to endeavour to make my 
 peace with heaven by means of confession — to 
 accomplish any penance which priestly lips may 
 enjoin — and to obtain absolution, if possible, for 
 the great sin which I have committed!" 
 
 " Ah ! now can you wonder, Ginevra, that I 
 am haunted by the wildest fears — that I already 
 see exposure and disgrace— infamy and perhaps 
 punishment, staring us in the face -" 
 
 " The secrets of the confessional," interrupted 
 Ginevra, " are never revealed, Silvio, by the holy 
 men to whom they arc conlided!" 
 
 " Oh ! but the bare idea that another person 
 should be acquainted with our secret, Ginevra," 
 exclaimed the young man, — " that there should be 
 any one, whether priest or layman no matter— 
 whom neither you nor I shall ever dare look in 
 the face " 
 
 " You forget that already the secret rests not 
 solely betwixt you and me ! My uncle and 
 aunt " 
 
 "Oh; but they are different, Ginevra!— and 
 you will not deem it offensive if I say that they 
 are selfish and interested people, who for a thou- 
 sand reasons will keep the secret religiously " 
 
 "And 80 will the holy priest," rejoined the 
 young lady, " to whom it is my intention this day 
 to confide it." 
 
 " Frankly speaking," said Silvio, now with a 
 tincture of irony in his lone, " I am so little ac- 
 quainted with these matters, that I would fain 
 acquire information. Tell me, then — when in 
 the confessional, do you men! ion names ?" 
 
 "It is by no means needful," answered Ginevra; 
 "and in ordinary cases names are suppressed. 
 But in the present instance the mere circumstances 
 vyhen fully detailed, will serv<?, alas ! as an only too 
 unmistakable indication of the particular family 
 whose honour is involved— jes, and of the par- 
 ticular individuals through whose deep iniquity 
 that honour has thus become compromised !" 
 
 " And you are resolved, Ginevra, to run this 
 fearful risk i" said Silvio, in a voice of mingled 
 reproach and anger. 
 
 " I am resolved to seek absolution for my sins," 
 replied the young lady, with calm steadiness of 
 tone. " This absolution is only to be acquired by 
 penitence — and penance can only be enjoined 
 through the medium of the confessional. Now, 
 Silvio, you comprehend my resolve, which is irre- 
 vocably taken. If you have yet the inclination to 
 be of service to the wretched but deeply contrite 
 partner of your guilt, you would confer two favours 
 
 " >dme them, Ginevra," said the young man. 
 "The first is that you at once repair to (ha 
 vestiary, where you will now find the holy priesta 
 assembled— that you will ask for Father Falconara 
 — and that you will tell him a penitent awaits 
 him in the confessional near the Chapel of the 
 Magdalen. Having done this, you will within the 
 hour that is passing quit Naples and set out on 
 your return to Vienna." 
 
 No immediate answer was given to these 
 entreaties : but after a pause of nearly a minute, 
 Charles De Vere heard the voice of Silvio saying, 
 almost abruptly, " Yes, 1 will fulfil your behests, 
 Ginevra — I will do these two things which jou 
 have enjoined me. And now farewell !" 
 j " Farewell, Silvio," replied the young lady : 
 I " and if we consult— I can scarcely say our earthly 
 1 happiness, for that I fear is wrecked for ever 
 ' but if we consult the welfare of our immortal soula, 
 I we shall never meet again. Depart, Silvio. 
 Farewell!" 
 
 A moment afterwards Charles De Tere heard 
 the guilty pair separate ; and though they pro- 
 j ceeded in different directions, the pillar behind 
 I which he was placed continued to conceal him 
 from the view of both. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE C0XFES3I0NA1. 
 
 j Thb feelings with which our hero had listened to 
 I the preceding colloquy, were those of an intense, 
 j all-absorbiug, and almost awful interest. He had 
 ( remained riveted to the spot, without once reflect- 
 ing whether he were guilty of impropriety ia 
 lingering a listener there. He had obtained a 
 j deeper insight than be had before possessed or 
 imagined, into some history of guilt — but what 
 its precise extent might be, he was still ignorant. 
 j That it was not a mere ordinary case of seduction 
 I on Silvio's part, or of maiden's weakness on that 
 of Ginevra, he had heard enough to convince him ; 
 I and therefore he could not help thinking that 
 I Ginevra must be the wife of another — that she 
 had proved faithless to her marriage 
 I hence the darker stain with which her conscience 
 I dyed her crime. That she belonged to the higher 
 j order of society, was tolerably apparent from the 
 ■ allusion which Silvio had made to the mansion at 
 which she dwelt : though on the other 
 
 she 
 and I 
 
 seemed rather inconsistent with the fact that her 
 uncle and her aunt should reside at a compara- 
 tively humble house in a mean and poor quarter 
 of the city. Y'et these little details were trivial aa 
 topics of reflection, in contrast with the more 
 terrible and important subjects which accident had 
 brought within the scope of our hero's medita- 
 tion. 
 
 For a few minutes longer he remained behind 
 the pillar, awaiting a favourable opportunity to 
 escape from the church unperceived by either 
 Ginevra or Silvio. The service had terminated in 
 the midst of the colloquy which was progressing 
 between those two — the congregation, which hap- 
 pened to be very small on the occasion, had issued 
 forth — and no straggler had chauced to paa> 
 through the aisle where the preceding aceue toos
 
 A3N3S; 02, BEAUTY AMD PLEAI^UIi 
 
 m^ 
 
 place. Charlea De Vere lingered in order to af- 
 forfj sufficient time for Ginevra to seelt fhe confea- 
 eional, and for Silvio to deliver her message at the 
 Testiary. He was now about to take his depar- 
 ture, when just as be was on the point of 
 emerging from the shade of the pillar, he beheld 
 the form of an individjat) wri*pped in the cowl of 
 • Dominican priest, 6,«d scaring the scapulary 
 of that order, pacing towards the confessional. 
 But at that very instant a current of air some- 
 what disturbed the dark hood which was drawn 
 over the individual's head ; and Charles caught a 
 glimpse of the countenance that was thus for a 
 moment revealed. All his recollections of the 
 >'o. 29. -Agnes. 
 
 night before the last flamed up vividly in hij 
 mind ; and he was smitten with the impresaioB 
 that the face he had just seen was the same which 
 he bad only imperfectly obtained a glimpse of on 
 that night. Was it possible, therefore, that Silvio 
 himself was now by some means personating the 
 priest — that he was usurping the functions of 
 the Father Falcunam whose holy ministration the 
 guilty Ginevra had specially demanded ? 
 
 Charles had drawn quickly back in such a way 
 that the individual — whether Silvio, or Falconara, 
 or any one else— could not possibly have noticed 
 him ; and again behind the pillar did our hero 
 reflect profoundly. If a hideous imposture were
 
 on, BEAIIV AST) PLEASCKE. 
 
 being practised sgoiuat Gioevra, ought he not to 
 interftre and prevent it ? But on the other band, 
 was it not possible that he might be mistaken in 
 his supposition that he had reallv recognised the 
 countenance uf the c'oaked individual nho bad 
 iigured in the iocidents of the night before last, 
 and whom he now knew to bear the Christian 
 name of Silvio ? This consideration held bim 
 back. lie was bewildered bow to act. On the 
 one hand, if he did nothing in the case, be might 
 become en accomplice, so to speak, in a foul and 
 sacrilegious imposture : but on the other hand, if 
 he were to interfere, he might discover that he 
 was labouring under a mistake— that it was the 
 veritable FatUer Fulconara after all— and that by 
 his intervention he would be onlv proving that he 
 had plajed the eavesdropper in respect to the 
 discourse which had ere now taken place between 
 Ginevra and Silvio. If Charles were a Catholic, 
 he would doubtless have run any risk to prevent 
 the possible desecration of the confessional ; but 
 inasmuch as he was a Protestant, be thought that 
 he had better remain entirely on the safe side so 
 far as he himself nas concerned, and leave mat- 
 ters to take their own course. 
 
 Having arrived at this conclusion, Charles De 
 Tere issued from the church, without passing in 
 view of the confessional where the penitent Ginevra 
 was kneeling on one side, and where the individual 
 in the Dominican garb was seated on the other. 
 As he walked slowly through the streets, our young 
 hero continu3d to ponder all he had heard. Tee 
 character of Ginevra would have 611ed him with 
 surprise, were he not already rendered by his 
 reading tolerably well acquainted with the disposi- 
 tion of Italian women. He knew that when once 
 religious influences bad maintained a strong bold 
 upon them, they could not be shaken off; and 
 though they were seldom potent enough to save 
 feminine virtue from the headlong current of guilty 
 passion, they nevertheless brought back the sinner 
 to the feet of the priest, to obtain absolution for 
 the past, leaving the future open either for a re- 
 formed career or else for a relapse into error. Thus 
 superstition blended itself singularly and even fan- 
 tastically with the depravities and profligacies of 
 many of the Italian women ; and they often alter- 
 nated between the influences of the lover and the 
 priest. Indeed it is well known that to be a devotee 
 and an inveterate intrig^iante is common enough 
 with Neapolitan women; and thus Charles De 
 Vere was scarcely astonished at the seemingly con- 
 tradictory phases which Ginevra's character dis- 
 played. That her penitence was however sincere— 
 that her remorse was great— and that she fully 
 appreciated the depth of her iniquity., whatsoever 
 its extent might be, Charles felt convinced : and 
 Lot for a moment did he conceive that she was one 
 ; f those who made a convenient use of the con- 
 ''^Bsional to obtain periodical absolution for her 
 sins with the intention of plunging anew into the 
 ^ortei of profligacy. He even thought within 
 ;.imself that she must naturally be endowed with 
 -ood traits and virtuous principles, hut that a fatal 
 ;i88ion bad proved the stronger, and that her 
 - ason, her sense of propriety, and her deep re- 
 i^^ious feeling had been all insulGeient to bear her 
 •.:p against the power of temptation. Thus, bow- 
 ■verdark her crime might be, she was still a being 
 and sympathy, and to remain 
 
 I merit 
 
 ' within the pale of the most merciful and charitable 
 
 Possessed as he now was of the Christian namet 
 of the guilty pair, and knowing likewise that 
 Ginevra resided at some mansion, Charles might 
 immediately have set on foot such inquiries a£ 
 would have still farther elucidated the mystery, 
 and brought to his knowledge the name of the 
 family whose honour, according to Ginevra's own 
 words, was so seriously compromised. But Charles 
 was still most honourably delicate on the point : 
 he considered himself to be under an obligation to 
 Ginevra to avoid stepping out of his way to ascer- 
 tain any facts beyond those which accident itself 
 might bring within the range of his knowledge; 
 and though our readers may probably fancy that 
 he was over nice and scrupulous on the point, yet 
 such was his disposition, and he followed ita 
 magnanimous dictates. 
 
 As he was proceediag along the street, absorbed 
 in his meditations, he heard bis name suddenly 
 ejaculated in a female tone and in the English 
 language. 
 
 " Ah : there is Charles De Tere !" 
 
 Those were the words that were spoken; and 
 at the same instant our hero beheld a gentleman 
 and lady hastily retreatiog iuside a jeweller's 
 shop,— the lady evidently pulling her ma e com. 
 panion thither, as if she of the two were most in- 
 tere'ited in escaping his notice. Charles stopped 
 short: he bad at once recognised the voice — but 
 as the lady sought to avoid the interview, he was 
 delicate in enforcint; a meeting. He accordingly 
 passed on, but slowly and loiteringly— ever and 
 anon looking back to see whether the couple who 
 had thus avoided him might think better of their 
 conduct and hasten after him. They did not 
 however reappear; and Charles continued bis way 
 towards the Embassy. On arriving there, he 
 found that a Queen's messenger bad just come 
 from England with despatches for the Ambas- 
 sador; acd the hag conlained two or three private 
 letters for our hero. One was from his mother, 
 stating that her hea'lh was much improved, that 
 she had some prospect of letting Beltr'^* Cottage, 
 and that she hoped to be saon enable<t to jiin her 
 son in Naples. Another letter was from Agnes ; 
 and this epistle Charles read over and over again r 
 hut there was one paragraph to which he speciaiif 
 devoted bis attention, and which made him regret 
 that be had just now avoided an interview with 
 the English gentleman and lady who had flitted 
 into the jeweller's shop. He was therefore re- 
 solved to seek them, or at least the lady — which 
 was by no means difficult in a city where tiie 
 names and addresses of all new-comers were regis- 
 tered at the chief ofilce of police. It was the 
 habit for English visit, rs of distinction and gen- 
 tility to leave their cards at the British Embassy : 
 but Charles scarcely thought that those who were 
 now occupying bis attention would have ventured 
 to take such a step. He however consulted the 
 visitor's book in the hall of the ambassadorial 
 mansion : but he found not the names inscribed 
 upon its pages. He therefore set out for the par- 
 pose of pursuing his inquiries at the Prefecture of 
 Police ; and on arriving at that office, he put the 
 requisite question. The answer was given him; 
 and he now leaint that the English gentleman 
 and lady had been two days in Naples, and were
 
 agues; oe, beauit and pleascek. 
 
 nd sijiDg I 
 b, " I was I 
 
 iiting at an hotei chieflj frequented by traTellera 
 of distinction. To that establisbment Charles bent 
 his way; and on matting an inquiry at the porter'a 
 K>dge, he learnt that tbe gentleman nas out, but 
 that the lady was in her apartment. A bell n'as 
 rung— a waiter answered the summons— and cur 
 hero was conducted to that lady's sitting-room. 
 
 He found her alone : she was reclining loung- 
 ingly upon a Bufa ; and as he entered she partiall 
 raised herself, extending her hand, 
 with a half-smile and with a slight bl 
 not altogether unprepared, Mr. De Tere, fv 
 
 Charles took the hand thus prolTered him : but 
 he did not immediately speak. He beut upon the 
 lady a look of mingled commiseration and sorrow ; 
 and then he placed himself in the chair which she 
 indicated. The confusion on her part was tran- 
 sitory : or at least whatsoever she might have in- 
 ternally felt, soon ceased to be betrayed by the 
 expression of her countenance ; so that Charles 
 could not help sighing as he thought that there 
 was a certain degree of hardihood in tbe de- 
 meanour which she was thus so quickly able to 
 assume. She was dressed with exceeding rich- 
 nces— indeed almost with a splendour which rose 
 predominant above elegance and taste; and there 
 
 ;ht 
 
 her 
 
 toilet. The low corsage displayed somewhat too 
 much of the luxuriant contours of the bust; and 
 there was altogether a voluptuous abandonment in 
 the way in which she resumed her lounging, hulf. 
 reclining position when she had shaken hands with 
 De Vere. A tincture of sensuousnoss mingled 
 with the natural glowing richness which charac- 
 terized her whole person : there was a certain 
 boldness in the expression of her large dark eyes, 
 tbe luminousncss of which seemed to swim in a 
 soft languor : and the skirt of the robe was 
 drawn just high enough— it might be by acci- 
 dent, or it might be by a studied coquettish 
 design — to display one exquisitely- shaped foot 
 and symmetrically-rounded ankle. Her taper 
 fingers were r-splendent with rings; the diamond 
 ear-drops flashed forth their jets of light from 
 amidst the heavy tresses of her glossy raven 
 hair; and a superb necklace dcGned, so to speak, 
 the swell of the bosom. Altogether, in that 
 attitude of soft sensuous abandonment — with 
 those looks— and in that garb, — reclining upon 
 the luxurious cushions of the sofa, in a hand- 
 •omely furnished apartment, where the atmosphere 
 was warm and perfumed, — this lady was a being 
 full well calculated to make an impression upon 
 the passions, if not actually upon tbe heart of any 
 man whose affections and allegiance were not 
 already most faithfully devoted to another. 
 
 " You say, Floribel," said Charles, at length 
 breaking silence, and speaking in a grave tone, 
 " that you were not altogether unprepared to meet 
 me in Naples : and yet just now you avoided me — 
 ycu retreated into a shop in company with him 
 whom I wish to God that I might call your hus- 
 band !" 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, Charles," re- 
 sponded Floribel, with a haughty sarcasm in her 
 accents, " for expressing this wish, but perhaps 
 it is not altogether consistent with my onn 
 feelings." 
 
 " tkiod heavens ! what mean you, ii'loribel ?' 
 
 demanded our young hero, astonished and even 
 distressed at the singular speech he had just hear-i. 
 
 " You would not wish to be a wedded wife " 
 
 "I did not say so," interrupted the lady— "I 
 did not even give you to understand thus much. 
 But what I meant— what you may understand— 
 and what I emphatically proclaim, is that I have 
 no wish to be the wedded wile of Theodore Clif- 
 ford." 
 
 " Floribel, you pain me infinitely !" said Charles ; 
 " and if your cousin A^nes were present, she would 
 be profoundly distressed tu hear you thus speak." 
 
 "But Agues is not here," answered Floribel 
 flippantly ; "and even if she were, I should tell tbe 
 truth if tbe to(jio arose ; for I cannot control 
 my own sentiments, and I care not to conceal 
 them." 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated Charles, " I understand !" — 
 and now the feeling of commiseration on Fioribel's 
 behalf again took possession of his soul. " Y'ou 
 
 are not altogether happy with ilr. CiiS'ord " 
 
 " Listen to me, Charles 1" said Floribel : " for 
 as we have met, I will be frank and explicit with 
 you. For a moment 1 would have avoided this 
 meeting; yet it was only a transient feeling of 
 weakness on my part — because as I knew you were 
 at Naples, I should not have consented to come 
 ther at all if I had been too bashful and dilE lent, 
 ■ too shamefaced to encounter your looks. But 
 listen to me ! I thought, when I eloped with Mr. 
 Clifl'ord, that I loved him ; and there,were doubt- 
 less all the elements of love in my heart— but they 
 quired to be fostered, to be evoked, and to be 
 developed by the genial warmth of kiojness on 
 his part. He began by deceiving me. That inci- 
 dent was alone sufficient to throw an ice-chill upon 
 the feelings which were merely nascent and ger- 
 ling in my bosom. He continued his coursa 
 of deception- lie assured me that he would speedily 
 obtain the cooseut of his father to our union,— 
 until wearied and rendered suspicious by his ex- 
 cuses, I took the matter into luy own hands and 
 wrote to Lord Windermere. The answer which I 
 received convinced me of all Theodore's perfidy. In 
 short, Charles, from this and various other instances 
 I discovered that he had never intended to bestow 
 upon me the sacred title of wife; but that it was 
 all along a studied seduction, and that I was there- 
 fore a victim and a dupe ! Do you suppose that I 
 can love such a man as this — or that I could desire 
 our destinies to be indissolubly linked?" 
 
 Charles made no answer : but bis looks con- 
 tinued to indicate mingled commiseration and 
 distress. 
 
 " But this is not all," proceeded Floribel. "My 
 connexion with Tiieodore C.lffutd — I mean from 
 the date that I was foolish enough to elope with 
 him — has only lasted exactly six weeks ; and during 
 these six weeks I have as completely fathomed 
 his character as if we had been inlimate for aa 
 many years. He is selfish, deceitful, and unprin- 
 cipled. I do not besitate to add that he is a 
 
 thorough villain " 
 
 " Good heavens, Floribel I" said Charles, in as- 
 tonishment and even with terror; " what a pictura 
 are you drawing of this young man ! And yet yoa 
 still live with him?" 
 
 " I have two answers to give to these observa- 
 tions on your part," replied Fljribel. " First, ia 
 reference to the picture which I am drawing of
 
 223 
 
 lES; OE, BEAUTT ASD PLEASCBE. 
 
 Theodore Clifford, I deliberately and positively 
 ■ fGrm that it is in do way esnggerateiL You shall 
 judge for yourself. Accident one day threw into 
 my way his pocket-book, in which I found several 
 letters. One was from a young lady whom he 
 had seduced while privately paying his addresses 
 
 to her " 
 
 " Is this possible ?" exclaimed Charles, indig- 
 
 " 1 tell you that I read the letter with my own 
 eyes," responded Fioribel. " I do not know who 
 the young lady is-there was no signature to the 
 
 letter heaven knows she bad reason enough 
 
 for observing the strictest caution, as her parents 
 were unacquainted with her position at the time 
 ■he wrote — though they can scarcely be so any 
 longer, for ere this she must have become a mother ! 
 I gathered from the letter that she belongs to a 
 high family— a family bearing a proud title and 
 enjoying great consideration in the world. That 
 she herself was well-educated, was evident from 
 the style in which she wrote : that she was amiable, 
 affectionate, and loving was likewise demonstrated 
 by that letter. And this young lady had been 
 basely seduced by Theodore Clifford; and she was 
 in a way to become a mother at the very time 
 when be poured forth the protestations of love and 
 devotion in my ears ! Now, Charles, is not this man 
 
 "It is indeed difficult to find a term too severe 
 to be applied to such conduct," responded our 
 hero. " Bift still, Fioribel, you are living with a 
 man whom you appear to hate — whom at least you 
 scorn and despise " 
 
 "That is the second point on which I was about 
 to speak," resumed the young lady. " I have not 
 suffered Theodore Clifford to suspect the extent to 
 which I am acquainted with his iniquities: I have 
 dissembled somewhat. And why r you will ask. 
 As a matter of policy. For the present I am 
 totally dependent upon him — I have no money of 
 
 my own at least none that 1 choose to touch, 
 
 for I have given Agnes everything which I myself 
 might claim ; and therefore, as I could not go 
 forth into the streets and beg, I have been com- 
 pelled to remain with Clifford. He does not love 
 me with any sincerity of sentiment : I know per- 
 fectly well what his feeling is :" — and then after a 
 brief pause, and with a slight culouring of the 
 cheeks, Fioribel added, "Theodore likes me just as 
 any gay and profligate libertine likes a handsome 
 
 " Heavens, Fioribel !" exclaimed Charles, in ac- 
 cents of affliction, " what an existence is this 
 which you are leading ! Oh, how different from 
 the time when happy and innocent, in the so- 
 ciety of your amiable cousin, at your picturesque 
 villa " 
 
 " Do not allude to those times !" interrupted 
 Fioribel quickly : " do not allude to those circum- 
 stances ! My destiny is cast ; and I have accepted 
 
 it. Oh I you have yet to learn, Mr. De Vere 
 
 or I beg pardon for this formality ; lor as you are 
 to marry my cousin, 1 may continue to call you 
 
 Charles as you call me Fioribel But I was 
 
 about to say, Charles, that you do not know how 
 altered my mind has lately become, and how philo- 
 sophically 1 now look upon things in general. Of , 
 course I cannot blind myself to the fact that 1 ] 
 ma; nevei hope to bear the sacred name of wife ; 
 
 but I must live — my disposition is such that 1 cau. 
 not live unless it be luxuriously— I could not face 
 poverty— and there is no earthly thing in the form 
 of honest labour or honourabL' employment to 
 which X can turn my hand. I know therefore 
 what my career must he— and I shall accept it!" 
 
 " Fioribel, you are talking in a strain which 
 fills me with great afllictioo !" ejaculated De Vere, 
 wondering likewise why she should be thus boldly 
 candid and hardily frank in all her avowals. 
 
 " I am sorry that I give you pain, Charles," the 
 said, with a sort of indolent trauquillity ; " but 
 remember that it was not 1 who sought this inter- 
 view—it is you who have come to me. For my- 
 self I would have avoided it ; and of this you have 
 had a proof. But still I knew that we should 
 meet ; and 1 made up my mind that if this were 
 the case, I would enter into the fullest explana- 
 tions. I will tell you wherefore. It is that you 
 may henceforth avoid the society of one who feels 
 herself to be unworthy of your notice !— it is that 
 you may pass me by in the street without acknow- 
 ledging me, and likewise without fearing that you 
 will give offence by thus leaving me unnoticed ! 
 And it is also that I may be spared all moral lec- 
 tures-all entreaties to turn away from the path 
 on which I have entered — all those representa- 
 tions, remonstrasces, intercessions, and prayers, 
 with which Agnes has no doubt already charged 
 you, should you happen to fall in with me " 
 
 " This very day, Fioribel," interjected Charles, 
 " have I received a letter from Agnes ; and in that 
 letter your name is mentioned in terms the moat 
 affectionate, but likewise the most sorrowful: for 
 she knew that you were coming to Italy." 
 
 "Yes— we had a parting interview, and I told 
 her so," observed Fioribel. 
 
 " She beseeches me to see you," continued D« 
 Tere,— " to implore that you will either insist that 
 Theodore gives you the name of wile, or that you 
 will at once abandon him -" 
 
 " Did I not foresee," interjected Fioribel, some- 
 what impatiently, " that all these representations, 
 remonstrances, and entreaties would be made '( 
 But they are useless, Charles ; and I would seek to 
 avoid them. This is why I have dealt so frankly 
 with you. Perhaps in the same spirit I may con- 
 fess that I grieve — yes, grieve bitterly— at having 
 severed the ties which hound me to my cousin; 
 but the evil is done, and it is irreparable! I 
 know what X am : I know what I must continue 
 to be!" 
 
 " No, Fioribel 1" cried Charles ; " you must not 
 continue to be a degraded and disgraced creature! 
 Leave this Theodore Clifford ! If you will not 
 return to your cousin, my mother shall give you a 
 home — I know she will — I can confidently promise 
 
 "Enough, Charles!" interrupted Fioribel:"! 
 thank you— but it must not be. 1 will go nowhere 
 to bring disgrace and shame on those who receive 
 me. This L wish to be' thorougl-ly understood; 
 and if I am dealing so frankly with you, it is that 
 you may tranquillize the mind of Agnes on my 
 
 behalf 1 mean you may give her to understand 
 
 that it is useless for her to agitate and distress 
 herself on my account— but that henceforth she 
 had better look upon me as one dead !" 
 
 " Agnes will never cease to be intereated in 
 you !" exclaimed Charles vehemently. " Do yon
 
 AGSE3 ; OS, BEAUTY ASD PLEAS0EE. 
 
 SGf" 
 
 koov, F.'oribe!, that it is a shocking thing for a 
 
 1 young creature of your age— only just eighteen — 
 
 to apeak as you have been speaking— to accept 
 
 I with so criminal a philosophy a career which it is 
 
 TOD and futile to describe as your fixed destiny, 
 
 inasmuch as by a siugle resolute act you can 
 
 I change all this— and even if you cannot repair 
 
 I the past, you may at least abstain from erring for 
 
 j the future !" 
 
 I " And I have neither the courage nor the incli- 
 I nation to take that resolute step," answered Flo- 
 j ribel. " I know that 1 have fallen— and a fallen 
 creature I must remain. I would not return into 
 the midst of raoral and virtuous society, to be 
 merely tolerated there. I have a certain pride 
 ' after my own fashion. And moreover," she added, 
 the seriousness of her tone and looks relapsing 
 j into an indolent carelessness and a languid indif- 
 ference, " I am formed only for a life ol pleasure 
 I —and a life of pleasure I will lead, ily whole 
 constitution— my habits, my ideas, my tempera- 
 ment-are typical of pleasure. Pleasure is the 
 ' very name which ought to hare been given to 
 
 I " Floribel !" exclaimed Charles, starting up to 
 bis feet, "this is language which But no ! you 
 
 1 cannot be serious — or else you must be very un- 
 happy, and sorrow has produced its influences 
 
 ' upon your brain !'* — and our hero resumed his 
 seat, almost with a feeling of remorse at the 
 abruptness with which he had an instant before 
 acted. 
 
 I " I have no doubt," said Floribel, quietly, " that 
 you are disgusted with me — because I know you 
 
 ' to be good and virtuous; and thank God that 
 
 I you are so," she added emphatically, '• because 
 you are to become the husband of my cousin ! 
 I But again 1 tell you that if I am thus frank in 
 I revealing myself thoroughly to you — if I may 
 j even appear indelicate or bold in unmasking 
 I myself— it is because I wish you to abstain from 
 I those remonstrances and representations whicli 
 ' are indeed utterly useless. Ah! perhaps you 
 : wonder why I should have come to 2f aples ; and I 
 I will tell you. 'When I returned to Londun with 
 I Theodore Clifford, after my elopement, he fur- 
 I niahed a house sumptuously for me— paid for 
 everything in my name — and thus invested me 
 ' with the property so procured. But we had not 
 been long at that house when I found that he 
 was overwhelmed with debts, and that he had 
 raised mouey upon bills in order to fit up the 
 establishment, buy horses, carriages, and so forth. 
 As I have already told you, I wrote to his father 
 Lord Windermere, requiring that nobleman's con- 
 sent to our union. On the same day Theodore 
 was arrested for a considerable sum of money 
 and taken to a lock-up house. My letter to his 
 fjther ha 1 rendered his lordship so deeply indig- 
 nant that when his son wrote to him from the 
 lock-up house, he sent back thn letter in a blank 
 envelope. This mischief was therefore wrought 
 by me — though I had a perfect right to act as 
 ^•vrcamstances had suggested. Still 1 had taken 
 d step which suddenly cut off Theodore's re- 
 sources, and the consequence of which was that he 
 
 lease on certain terms which his creditor pro- 
 poBed. I yielded— and 1 signed some ducumeot. 
 
 This, it appears, was what is called a warrant-oi- 
 attorney, assigning all the furniture, equipages, 
 and so forth to the creditor, who on obtaiuing the 
 security released TheoJore from incarceration and 
 promised to give him ample time to liquidate the 
 liability. But the faithless creditor at once 
 availed himself of the power which the deed 
 gave him; and he swept away everytbiog. Lor.i 
 \Vindermere refused to see his son— otlier debts 
 became pressing — and Theodore found himself 
 compelled to leave Eaglaud. I was by no means 
 sorry, as I wished to avoid the chance of meeting 
 those whom in different circumstances 1 had 
 known. But whither should we go ? That was 
 the question. At length Theodore recollected 
 that he had in Naples a most intimate friend— a 
 
 man of wealth you know him, Charles -I 
 
 allude to Sir Alexander Holcroft." 
 
 "The senior attache to the British Embassy :" 
 ejaculated our hero. 
 
 " The same," rejoined Floribel. " Theodore has 
 now gone to seek his friend Sir Alexander. I 
 must tell you that some two years ago — before 
 Sir Alexander succeeded, by an infant nephew's 
 death, to that title and those estates which he had 
 never hop^d to inherit — he was very poor, and 
 Theodore lent him a few hundred pounils. They 
 have since lost sight of each other; and fur this 
 reason the debt has never been paid. Theodore 
 has now gone to request its liquidation— a de. 
 mand that will immediately be complied with ; for 
 Sir Alexander has become rich. This is the reason 
 we are at Naples." 
 
 Floribel ceased speaking ; and for some minutes 
 Charles Dj Vere remained absorbed in profound 
 reflection. He longed to renew his entreaties 
 that Floribel would quit the man whom she 
 scorned and hated, and adopt a virtuous course : 
 but when he retrospected over ad she had said, 
 he saw how utterly useless it was to return to tlie 
 topic. He had urged engugh to fulfil the earuest 
 injunctions conveyed in that paragraph of his be- 
 loved Agnes Evelyn's letter ; and he coulJ say no 
 more. He therefore rose to take his departure- 
 but he lingered, bending upon Floribel a look of 
 earnest entreaty. 
 
 " You are about to bid me farewell, Charles," 
 she said; "and you must bear in mmd what I 
 have already told you, to the efl'ect that if you 
 choose henceforth to pass me by unnoticed, should 
 we ever again happen to meet, you will be giving 
 me no offence ; and you must not in any way 
 compromise yourself through the generous con- 
 sideration that being the cousin of your Agnes I 
 ought to receive a certain courtesy of treatment 
 at your hands." 
 
 Charles was deeply affected ; and he could not 
 give utterance to a word. But a short time back 
 ho had known Floribel in her innocence and 
 virtue ; and all that he now beheld before him 
 was a complete moral wreck. True, the same 
 Floribel was there in ail the Hebe- like glow of her 
 beauty; and perhaps never had she seemed mora 
 handsome. But the diadem of purity had fallen 
 from her brow; and there was already a meretri- 
 cious hardihood in her looks^an atmosphere of 
 sensuousness enveloping her. Yes— it was a moral 
 wreck, which it pained the generous-hearted and 
 well-principled Charles De Vera to gaze upon, — 
 and all the mure ao because his lips were now
 
 AGNES ; OE, BEACIT AlfD rLBASUBS. 
 
 Killed by a c^joscinusness of tbe futility of any 
 deavour on bis part to drag her away from amidst 
 the wares of destruction and restore liur to a harbo 
 n( safu-ty. He wrung her baud with a warmth of 
 feeling tbe nature of which she fully con 
 henlel; and for a moment there was a slight 
 quirering uf her tips and her eyelids. But it w 
 only fur a moment : she quickly regained her cj 
 plete self-posSL'ssion ; and returning tbe pressure 
 of bis hand, she resumed her seat on the sola 
 whence she had risen up. 
 
 Charles hastened from the room ; and as h 
 again found himself roaming through the street! 
 he mentally ejaculated, " Ala?, poor lost Floribei 
 what can I write concerning thee to Agnes?" 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIX. 
 
 SIB ALEXAHDEK nOLCBOrr. 
 
 Ckasles did not on that day visit tbe h.mse where 
 Sino Corso dwelt, for the hour was late in tbe 
 afternoon when he took leave of Floribei, and be 
 had only just time to return to the Embassy and 
 dress for dinner. Besides, even if there bad been 
 leisure to pay a visit to tbe guardians to whom he 
 bad coufi led Ginevra^s infant child, he had not the 
 inclination ; for his mind was painfully absorbed 
 with cve.'ytbiag that he bad heard from the lips 
 of Floribei. 
 
 He dined at the Ambassador's table ; and on 
 this day there was no one present besides the Am- 
 bassador himself and the principal persons belong, 
 jng to the Embassy. Charles happened to sit 
 next to Sir Alexander Holcroft. This was a gen- 
 tleman of four-and-thirty years of age— tall and 
 good-looking — with pleasing manners and distin- 
 guished appearance. His elder brother had died 
 about three years bacif, leaving an infant son. 
 Alexander had been for some time at variince with 
 his brother, who bad refused to minister to his ex- 
 travagancies. Alexander was steeped in debts 
 and pjverty when the intelligence suddenly reached 
 him that his little nephew had died of convulsions; 
 and thus a'l in a moment he found himself a 
 bsrouet as well as the possessor of a magniScent 
 estate. He now resolved to turn over a new leaf, 
 and become as steady as he was formerly wild and 
 profligate. We will not pause to describe bow it 
 was that he had taken a fancy to the sphere uf 
 diplomecy— but so it happened ; and with bis rank 
 and furlune he found it by no means cifficult to 
 obtain au appointment which might speedily lend 
 to a higher rank in the diplomatic sphere. In 
 respect to the fair sex, Sir Alexander Hulcruft still 
 continued gay, unpriLcipled, and prudigate as 
 ever; but he bad utterly renounced tbe vice of 
 gaming and those low debaucheries in which he 
 was wont formerly to indulge. Such was the in- 
 dividual by whose side Charles was seated at the 
 Amb-issador's table. 
 
 " By the bye, De Tere," said Sir Alexander, 
 during the dessert, and lowering bis voice almost 
 to a whisper, *' I received a visit to-day from some 
 one who has a slight acquaintance with your- 
 •elf." 
 
 " Indeed f" obs.rved Charles, with an assumed 
 air of carelessness. 
 
 "Tes. You know Clifford— Thcdore Clifford 
 I mean — Lord Windermere's sod," continued Sir 
 Alexander ; "be is a tine fellow in bis way, and 
 showed kindness to me at a period when I was not 
 quite so well off as I atn at present." 
 
 " I happen to know that he is in Naples," re- 
 marked De Verc. " But, as you observe, my 
 acquaintance with Mr. Clifford is slight." 
 
 " He spoke of you in very high terms," said Sir 
 Alexander ; " and he was telling me how gallantly 
 you behaved in a little affair which you had with 
 
 Hardr 
 
 Lord Mendlesham's 
 
 few I 
 
 " I am exceedingly obliged to Mr. Clifford," 
 said Charles, Sijmewbat coldly, " for having beeo 
 phased to mention my name with respect- 
 though, to tell you the truth. Sir Alexander, it 
 would be impossible for him to speak of me other- 
 
 " No doubt, my dear fellow," rejoined the Baro- 
 net. " Poor Clifford does not appear to be in the 
 highest posaible feather ; and I should be pleased 
 
 had he come to me in better form 1 mean in 
 
 respect to his dnances. Between you and me, De 
 Tere, I don't mind adding that there was a little 
 matter of some live hundred guineas which I owed 
 Clifford— a thing (hat bad stood over simply be- 
 cause we somehow or another lost sight of each 
 other, and he did not apply to me for it : but I 
 settled with him to day— and since I am telling 
 secrets, I may as well make tbe tale complete by 
 stating that I wa-3 not unmindful of former kind- 
 ness ; and so I wrote him a cheque for a thou- 
 sand." 
 
 " It was very liberal on your part, Sir -Alex- 
 ander," replied De Tere. 
 
 "Not liberal," said the Baronet; "it was a 
 duty under the circumstances. I am going to 
 dine with Clifford to-morrow : he tells me that he 
 has a lady living with him— the handsomest crea- 
 ture that ever was seen " 
 
 " Mr. Cliffjrd was communicative, then ?" in- 
 terjected Charles: and ho mentally added, " But 
 at all events it appears be was delicate enough not 
 to state who the young lady is, or that I am going 
 to marry her cousin." 
 
 " But handsome though this mistress of Clif- 
 ford's is," continued Sir Alexander, in a careless 
 conversational manner, " he seems to be getting 
 tired of her." 
 
 " Indeed !" ejaculated De Vere, with difficulty 
 concealing the indignation and disgust which he 
 experienced at the terms in wl.icb the unprin- 
 cipled Theodore Clifford must evidently ha»e 
 spoken of the unfortunate Floribei, to leave such 
 an impression on the Baronet's mind. 
 
 " Yes — he is tired of her," proceeded Sir -Alex- 
 ander : " but he tells me that there are reasons 
 why he must keep her as lung as she chooses to 
 cliog to him — though he dii not explain what 
 these reasons were. Of course, however, as a man 
 of the world I can understand them,— a little bit 
 of seduction- a girl enticed from her home— and 
 so forth. Ah ! it is the old tale :"— and Sir Alex- 
 ander sipped his wine as if it were a matter of the 
 most trivial consequence and a mere ordinary 
 affair of every.day life to which be had thus 
 alluded. 
 
 " Does Mr. Clifford purpose to make a long stay | 
 in Naples P" inquired Charles. I
 
 «E9; OB, 
 
 3TT ASD FLEASUBK. 
 
 "He is perfectly undeci'ied : he has quarrelled 
 with his father on account of this very girl of 
 ■\thom we were talking— he is overwhelmed with 
 iltjbts in England— and be must therefore remain 
 abroad until the old nobleman gets into a better 
 mood and comes down handsomely with the cash 
 In the meanwhile Clifford must remain somewhere 
 on the Continent— though if he has no other re- 
 sources than the cheque which I gave him this 
 afternoon," added the Baronet, " the sum will not 
 last him very long." 
 
 " A thousand guineas in this cheap country," 
 observed Charles, "ought to last him for at least 
 six months." 
 
 " It would last i/ou twelve or even twenty-four, 
 
 De Vere," responded the Baronet, laughing : 
 
 " because you are not extravagant, and you have 
 
 no small vices. But Clifford is addicted to this, 
 
 jou know:" — and Sir Alexander imitated with 
 
 his wineglass the shaking of a dice box and the 
 
 \ throwing out of the dice upon the table. 
 
 ! At this moment the Ambassador rose from his 
 
 ! scat, coffee having been announced; and the party 
 
 ' proceeded to the drawing-room, so that the con- 
 
 Tersation between our hero and Sir Alexander was 
 
 j thus cut short. When Charles retired to his 
 
 own chamber, be reviewed all that he bad heard 
 
 from the Baronet's lips, and he reflected there. 
 
 I " It is quite clear," he said to himself, " that 
 
 j Clifford has not in any way mentioned me as an 
 
 I acquaintance of Floribel or as being engaged to 
 
 i' her cousin. Perhaps this is as well. Shall 1 see 
 
 j Floribel once more and delicately whisper to her 
 
 I bow lightly and ungenerously Theodore speaks of 
 
 ' her to his friends ? No ! of what avail ? Alas, 
 they are evidently both dissembling, — he his 
 
 k weariness of her, she her hatred and loathing for 
 
 I his treacherous character. Besides, she will not 
 
 I thank me for interfering between herself and 
 
 j him; and all that passed betwixt herself and me 
 
 ! proves that she wishes the farewell which closed 
 
 j our interview to be an eternal one." 
 
 I On the following day, between eleven and 
 
 Nino Corso's abode. As he passed the church where 
 be bad twice seen Ginevra, be for a moment felt 
 an inclination to turn his steps across the threshold 
 of the sacred edifice; but he chec!;ed himself, 
 mentally ejaculating, " Vv'hy should I seek to 
 penetrate more profoundly into these affairs until 
 Ginevra herself shall indicate the period fur the 
 elucidation of the mystery ?" 
 
 He accordingly continued his way ; and in a 
 short time he reached the street where Nino Corso 
 dwelt, Charles had not forgotten the incident 
 in respect to the cloaked stranger whom be had 
 eeengli.ing so rapidly across the landing on the 
 occasion of his preceding visit; and he wondered 
 whether he would on this occasion behold any- 
 thing of that individual. "With this idea in his 
 mind he ascended the staircase : he reached the 
 uppermost landing— and be knocked at the door 
 of Nino Corso's apartment. He fancied that a 
 voice bade him enter : but on opening the door, 
 he at once perceived that he must have been mis- 
 taken, from the sudden confusion which bis pre- 
 sence produced. Benedetta — who was seated on 
 one side of the fireplace, with the infant child in 
 her aims— half started from her chair ; and it even 
 
 struck our hero that ,a low ejaculation of aiurui 
 burst from her lips. But on this point he was 
 not sure ; certain however it was that Beoedetta 
 instantaneously regained her self- possession on 
 perceiving who the visitor was. On the other side 
 of the fireplace an individual was seated, whom 
 Charles at once felt convinced could be none other 
 than the cloaked stranger whom he had seen so 
 mysteriously flitting across the landing on the 
 former occasion of his visit: for over the back of 
 the chair was thrown the ample cloak itself which 
 had enveloped him on that occasion. This person- 
 age likewise half-started from bis seat, as Bsae- 
 detta had done; and his keen dark eyes were 
 riveted with a searching scrutiny upon the 
 countenance of our hero, ife was a man of dis- 
 tinguished appearance, and evidently moving in a 
 sphere far superior to that of the humble tenants 
 of the room where he seemed to be a familiar 
 visitor. His age might be about forty-five: he 
 was drest in black, and a massive gold chain 
 festooned over his waistcoat. He was tall and 
 thin — perfectly upright, with a genteel symme- 
 trical figure. His hair, naturally black, was 
 streaked with grey: he wore neither beard nor 
 whiskers — his face was clean shaven — and the 
 bluish dark hues which indicated where the beard 
 had thus been cut off, threw out into stronger 
 relief the sallowness of his complexion. There 
 were deep lines of thought across his brow : his 
 dark eyes were piercing as those of a hawk ; and 
 his thin compressed lips were indicative of a firm 
 resolute character. His face might be termed 
 handsome, so fur as the regularity of the features 
 was concerned : but the extreme siiUowness of tho 
 complexion, mingling with a certain seTerity or 
 even sternness of the general expression, marred 
 whatsoever effect that well-formed profile might 
 otherwise have produced. That he was an Italian 
 our hero had no doubt. 
 
 Ninu Corso was not present in the room : but 
 the children were. 
 
 Charles De Vere, on crossing the threshold of 
 the little apartment, stopped short with the air of 
 one who seemed to feel that he was an intruder, 
 and who was thrown into the sudden embarrass- 
 ment of not knowing whether he should remain or 
 retreat. The stranger bent upon him, as we have 
 already said, the keenest and most scrutinising 
 regards: Charles glanced towards Benedetta, who 
 at the very moment rose from her seat as if to 
 attract the stranger's attention ; and having done 
 so, she made a quick significant sign. All this 
 was the work of a moment ; but it escaped not 
 our hero's notice. 
 
 " I am afraid that I am intruding," Charles 
 irtiinediately said: "but I knocked at the 
 
 " We did not hear you, signor," interjected 
 Benedetta : " but if we had, it would have been 
 all the same 1 mean that 1 should have bidden 
 
 you 
 
 velco 
 
 Meanwhile the dark-eyed stranger was again 
 contemplating young De Vere with the most 
 earnest attention ; and abruptly risiog from his 
 seat, he took our hero's hand, saying with rapid 
 utterance, " Tou are an Englishman— you arc a 
 young man of honour— frankness and generosity 
 are stamped upon your brow — and I appeal to you 
 as strongly as one human being can appeal to an-
 
 AGSES; OK, BBADIT AND PLEiSrSB. 
 
 ** I do Dot know you, signor,'* answered Charles ; 
 " and therefore I eannot speak of you by name." 
 
 "But yoa might speak of me according to per- 
 sonal description," responded the stranger; "and 
 it is in this that I thrci? myself upon your 
 mercy." 
 
 " The English gentleman will pass his word and 
 will keep it," said Nino Corw, who entered the 
 room at this moment; and he carefully closed the 
 door behind him. 
 
 Charles was infinitely relieved by this man's 
 appearance and by the words which he had just 
 epoken ; for they at once set at rest whatsoever 
 suspicion there might have been in his mind in 
 respect to the fact of the stranger being a second 
 time alone with Benedetta. It was now therefore 
 with all the natural frankness of his disposition 
 that Charles exclaimed, '■ If there be no moral 
 wrong in keeping your secret, signor, rest assured 
 that it shall be kept by me !" 
 
 " I seek no other pledge, and can desire no 
 better," answered the stranger with a look expres- 
 sive of deep gratitude. " Bat remember ! a single 
 word lightly or incautiously spoken " 
 
 "That word shall not be spoken by me," re- 
 joined Charles, "so long as I may in all honour 
 keep silence." 
 
 "Enough, young man !" ejaculated the stranger. 
 "You have secured the gratitude of one who 
 when occasion serves, knows how to be grate- 
 ful I" 
 
 He again wrung our hero's hand : be then en- 
 veloped himself in his ample cloak — and when 
 JCico Corso had peeped forth from the door to 
 ascertain that the coast was completely clear, the 
 mysterious individual sped across the landing to 
 the opposite room. 
 
 "Welcome, signor," said Cjrso, now finding 
 leisure to pay his respects to Charles. " I am not 
 sorry that this little incident should Lave occurred ; 
 because it has cleared up my poor Benedetta's 
 character in your estimation : lor I know that the 
 day before yesterday you must have entertained a 
 suspicion— it was natural enough, though unjust 
 and injurious " 
 
 " Your wife behaved well on the occasion," in. 
 terrupted Charles : " there was evidently some 
 great secret the betrayal of which from her lips 
 uiight have at once convinced me that I was 
 wronging her : but she held her peace, though 
 she gave me signiticantlj enough to understand 
 that appearances were not always to be judged 
 by." 
 
 •• Perhaps you will scarcely require to be told, 
 signor," demanded Corso, " that there is something 
 delicate and peculiar in this business— a merchant 
 who has failed— a worthy good man, but who is 
 thus obliged to hide himself from the pursuit of 
 his creditors until his friends can make arrange, 
 ments by which he may show himself again in the 
 broad light of day." 
 
 " I fancied," rejoined Charles, " after what little 
 I heard, that this was either the case of some 
 political ofi'ender or else of a debtor ; for the un- 
 fortunate gentleman does not look like a criminal 
 —and I have too good an opinion of you both, my 
 humble friends, to imagine that you would become 
 Aooumplices in cheating justice of its due." i 
 
 I "Not for worlds!" exclaimed Corso, with bon<?st 
 • sincerity, " where it is roa^y its due that justice 
 claims. But here is a esse of sheer misfor- 
 
 tuLe " 
 
 " And I honour you for befriending it !" inter- 
 jected Charles. " Toe secret is safe with me: of 
 this you may resi assured— and therefore now no 
 more upon the subject, unless it be for me to re- 
 commend you to exercise a little more discretion 
 
 and prudence " 
 
 " So one comes to our room," said Benedetta, 
 " except that poor gentleman, the house-porter 
 (who, by thfl way, is in the secret), and yourself, 
 signor. I thought it was too early fur a visit from 
 you ; and as the poor ge;:tleman stepped across the 
 landing just to have a quarter of an hour's chat 
 — for he must be dull enough, pent up in his own 
 chamber all by himself, he who has been accus- 
 tomed to such an active bustling life " 
 
 "No doubt, poor gentleman," interjected Charles: 
 "he must deeply feel his altered position. But I 
 repeat, his secret is entirely safe with me. And 
 now tell me, how gets on the little one?" 
 
 *' Well and thriving, as you see, signor," 
 answered Benedetta, holding up the sleeping babe, 
 on whose delicate forehead Charles imprinted a 
 kiss. "Though deprived of the natural nourish- 
 ment of its mother's bosom," continued Benedetta, 
 " it does not pine but takes its food readily ; so that 
 one would really think it had never hung at the 
 breast at all, and had been fed by hand from its 
 birth." 
 
 Charles said nothing : but he thought this idea on 
 Benedetta's part was likely to be altogether con- 
 sistent with the actual facts. He paid some little 
 kind attention to the c'uildren of the worthy 
 couple, who were all present in the room ; and he 
 then took his departure. As he was proceeding 
 homeward, he could not help wondering within 
 himself when Qinevra would communicate with 
 him according to her promise, and what latitude 
 she meant to give herself in respect to the " few 
 days" within which period according to her pledge 
 such communication was to be made. 
 
 On the following day Charles De Vere was 
 walking through the streets in the afternoon— 
 indeed as it was verging towards the hour to dress 
 for dinner— when he was overtaken by Sir Alex- 
 ander Holcroft. 
 
 " Yott are going home to the Embassy, De Yen," 
 said the Baronet, familiarly passing bis arm 
 through that of our young hero; " and my destina- 
 tion is the same. By the bye, I dined yesterday 
 with Clifi'urd at his hotel, as I told you that I was 
 going to do; and 1 was introduced to his lady, who 
 of course passes for the nonce as his wife." 
 
 " And you saw the lady ?" said Charles, en- 
 deavouring to assume a careless look and tone. 
 
 " I tell you, my dear fellow," replied the Biro- 
 net, laughing, " I was introduced to her: so of 
 course I saw her. I never passed a mjre agree- 
 able evening ! Her name is Fioribel -she is a 
 superb creature, and evideotly well educated. 
 Huw Clifford can possibly be tired of such a Hebe 
 I cannot for the life of me conceive !" 
 
 " He is doubtless Tolatile," said Charles. 
 
 "Volatile or not," continued the Baronet, "it 
 would be unpardonable on his part to dream of 
 ridJing himself of such a houri, il it were not that 
 some one else must sooner or later have very r^ood
 
 BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 
 ■-''fill 
 
 Ilk 
 
 tf0W'-%} 
 
 of coDstancj 
 
 reason to forgire iiim for his 
 and t83te." 
 
 " I do not exactly comprehend you, Sir Alex. 
 BDiier." 
 
 '• "Why, I mean, my young friend, that some one 
 must talie Floribe! off Clifford's hands; and vtho- 
 soever the lucky individual may be, he will have 
 reason to thank his stars that Clifford should so 
 indifferently appreciate the treasure of volup> 
 tuous beauty which he possesses " 
 
 Charles bit his lip, and a glow of indignation 
 flushed his cheeks at the thought that the cousin 
 of the pure and chaste Agnes should thus form 
 the topic of light discourse on the part of a liber- 
 tine. But he curbed his resentment ; for in fact 
 there was nothing which he himself could reason, 
 ably resent, and hie- momentary anger was absorbed 
 in a silent sigh of sorrow as the conviction struck 
 hici that Floribel had drawn down all this upon 
 herself, and that she was wickedly sod wantODl; 
 
 A'O. 3(J.-AeiX3. 
 
 pursuing a career which must ever l»y her open 
 to be thus spoken of with levity. 
 
 "I have just been to pay my respects at the 
 hotel, after dining there last night," resumed the 
 Baronet, not noticing those transient evidences of 
 indignation on De Vere's part ; " and I huve 
 passed another agreeable hour with Floribel. Clif- 
 ford was out — the lady was in a very excellent 
 humour, and in good spirits : she chatted gaily 
 
 » hat music is there in her voice ! She smiled 
 
 and laughed what delicious lips ! and whac 
 
 brilliant teeth !" 
 
 " And did you see Mr Clifford to.day ?" ia. 
 quired Charles, scarcely knowing what he said ; 
 for he keenly felt all the awkwardness and eia- 
 barrassment of his position in being compelled 
 thus to listen to a libertine's comments on the at- 
 tractions of the cousin of Agnes. 
 
 "^'o :— Clifford was absent the whole time," 
 responded Sir Alexander ; " and to tell you the
 
 truth I t 
 
 consent, and 1 shall be enabled to aiFord my friend 
 Theodore permission to chuckle in bis sleeve after- 
 wards." 
 
 " What do 70U mean ?" inquired Charles. 
 "My dear friend, how innocent you arc!" ex* 
 elaimed the Baronet. "Do you not perceive that 
 Theodore Clifford being tired of his lady, or per- 
 haps not able to maintain her, wants to get rid of 
 her; and be thinks to himself— ' AVhy not palm 
 her off on my friend Sir Alexander Holcroft, as 
 well as on any one else ?'— CliflTord is a man of the 
 world, you know; and this is just the way 
 tries to serve one's friends." 
 
 " But if you really think so, Sir Alexander," 
 exclaimed Charles De Tere, indignant and dis- 
 gusted in more senses than one, " it ought to be 
 the very reason why you should carefully abstain 
 
 from seeing Clifford any more— or— or " 
 
 " Why, my dear fellow," cried the Baronet, 
 laughing, " I shall really begin to think that you 
 ere smitten by the description I have given you of 
 this lady, and that you mean to look out for her on 
 your own behalf!" 
 
 "Sir Alexander," said Charles, stopping short 
 in the middle of the street— and the colour went 
 and came in rapid transitions upon his coun- 
 tenance: " it is almost an insult But no ! you 
 
 did not mean it." exclaimed our hero, thus sud- 
 denly recoUecling and interrupting himself. " I 
 
 beg your pardon for my seeming impetuosity " 
 
 " Well, your behaviour was positively somewhat 
 singular," said the Baronet coldly. "However," 
 he went on to observe, immediately resuming the 
 wonted off-hand friendly familiarity of his de- 
 meanour, and again passing his arm through that 
 of our hero, " 1 suppose that the hint 1 almost 
 jestingly threw out offended your strict notions of 
 propriety ; and I ought to beg your pardon rather 
 than you beg mine. But we were talking of the 
 suspicion I entertain that Clifford may perhaps be 
 mai:(£uvring to pass off his mistress on me; and 
 you think that I ought to be offended with him for 
 entertaining such a project ? Kow, my dear friend, 
 you are quite wrong. There are certain things 
 which may be done amongst gentlemen without 
 any forfeiture of an honourable repute. I see that 
 you are somewhat cf a novice in these kinds of 
 affairs ; and therefore I will give you a little in- 
 sight into them. Now, for instance, it is just as 
 fair— and just as usual too— that a man should en. 
 deavour to palm off upon bis friend a mistress of 
 whom he is tired, as that he should do pretty 
 nearly the same thing with respect to a horse. 
 You look surprised at the illustration : but I mean 
 
 r what I say. It is quite a common thing for a gen- 
 tleman to palm off upon his friend an unsound, 
 
 i vicious, and made-up brute of a horse for a sound, 
 docile, faultless animal." 
 
 " But this," exclaimed Charles, " is both lying 
 
 I and cheating !" 
 
 j " Hush, hush, my dear friend 1 these are all the 
 
 ( conventionalisms of life — and every grade of society 
 has its peculiar conventionalisms. Thus, for in- 
 stance, in the commercial class, supposing I kept a 
 mere ofBce for business, and you entrusted me with 
 five or ten thousand pounds, and I lived upon your 
 money till it was all spent, — it would be fraud, 
 robbery, and awindling. But mark the difference I 
 
 if I happen to put a brass plale on my tlour, with 
 [ the word Banker upon it ! Why, ihtn 1 might 
 live riotously and luxuriously upon your money, 
 and it would be all legitimate enough. 1 will give 
 you another illustration. If I keep a Utile 
 chandler's shop, my whole stock in trade being 
 wcrth fifty pounds — and in order to increase my 
 business 1 get into debt for goods to the amount of 
 eighty or a hundred more,— if I fail I go to the 
 Insolvents' Court— get terribly blown up by the 
 Commissioner as well as bullied by I he barristers 
 — and I am remanded to prison fur six months for 
 having contracted debts without a reasonable pros- 
 pect of paying them. But now suppose that with 
 scarcely n shilling in my pocket 1 go and take a 
 splendid office in the City— furnish it sumptuously 
 upon credit— call myself a speculator, a contractor, 
 and 80 forth — get hold of people's money, and fail 
 for a quarter of a million,— I go to the Bankruptcy 
 Court — I am treated civilly by the Commissioner — 
 I am mildly questioned by the barristers— and I 
 receive a certificate discharging me from all lia- 
 bilities and setting me free to commence similar 
 operations anew. This is the difference in our 
 glorious Old England of doing things in a petty 
 chandler'a-shop way or doing them whole«ale by 
 thousands." 
 
 " I know that everything you have toll me is 
 true," observed Ch.irles Da Vere : "but I was 
 never before led to reflect upon it so seriously." 
 
 " Well, my dear fellow," continued Sir Alexander 
 Holcroft, with the self-complacency of an expe- 
 rienced instructor who was teaching the young 
 idea bow to shoot. " every grade of society has its 
 conventionalisms of various kinds and species. The 
 old ladies who go to Missionary and Bible meetings 
 at Exeter Hall, pour forth tears ostentatiously 
 from their eyes — and stealthily, under cover of their 
 white kerchiefs, pour the contents of their brandy- 
 bottles down their throats. But they are pious 
 people— and their piety covers all their sins. Again, 
 the highest nobleman in the land— who ia perhaps 
 a Cabinet Minister or has been one, and whose 
 sense of honour is supposed to be as delicate as the 
 reputation of Coesar'a wife that must not even be 
 breathed upon — becomes quite another being when 
 on the Turf, at Newmarket or at Tattersall's. He 
 will Vten and there freely fraternise with all sorts 
 of notorious persons — blacklegs, swindlers, and 
 horse-cbaunters: he will lay his bets according to 
 any private information be may have most impro- 
 perly received ; and he will take his winnings froni 
 hands which in other places and other circum- 
 stances be would recoil from touching. In short, 
 be may plunge headlong amidst all these vile con- 
 taminations, and according to conventional opinion 
 ! himself will come forth uncontaminated : he 
 ny touch all that pitch, and yet not a single voice 
 shall be raised to proclaim him defiled. Nay, more 
 ppose that one of these Turf friends of his be 
 charged with some heinous crime— even murder if 
 you will— and when the villain stands in the felon'a 
 dock at the Old Bailey, our high and honourable 
 nobleman will make his appearance upon the bench 
 show his interest in the case, and perhaps to 
 play his sympathy with his former Turf friend 
 10 is now in such sore trouble. These are facts, 
 De Vere — and you must know that they are ao.^' 
 
 Yes," said Charles sorrowfully ; " the conric- 
 tioD is agaiD brought borne to mo that yon are
 
 AGSES ; OK, BEAOIT AKD PLEAaUBE. 
 
 235 
 
 drawing a true portraiture of society, without the 
 slightest ciaggeration." 
 
 " And if we pursue the subject a little further," 
 coDtinued Sir Alexander Ilulcroft, " it will afford 
 us some curious illustrati.ms of what I term the 
 conventionalisms of society. Suppose, for in* 
 stance, our high and powerful nobleman whom we 
 are citing as an example, should have to appear 
 before a magistrate in any case— either as a wit- 
 ness against some poor cabman who has demanded 
 sixpence more than his tare, or else for being 
 drunk and wrenching off a knocker, or something 
 of that sort,— the magistrate will »ot ask anything 
 about this nobleman's character, and the police 
 will not crowd officiously forward to state that 
 they saw him upon the race-course fraternising 
 with blacklegs, swindlers, and sharpers. But only 
 let some pour devil be taken before that same 
 fnsgistrate on the barest suspicion of having done 
 something wrong, or merely on the vague charge 
 of lurking about to commit a felony — and just 
 mark the difference! The first question the 
 magistrate puts is in reference to his character ; 
 and forthwith a swarm of police-officers crowd 
 forward to declare that the accused has often been 
 seen in the society of notoriously bad persons. 
 Nothing more is needed : away with the wretch 
 to prison and the treadmill ! Now the fact is, De 
 Verc, a great or a rich man is not damned by the 
 reputation of evil associates — whereas on the 
 other hand it is utter destruction to the poor 
 ■devil." 
 
 " Again I must admit that your illustrations are 
 correct," observed Charles : " but what a hideous 
 state of society do they demonstrate 1" 
 
 "Well," said the Baronet coolly, " that is just 
 according to the light in which you may view the 
 matter. But to come back to the original start- 
 ing-point, you will now see that in the midst of a 
 society where conventionalisms have established 
 so many artificialities, inconsistencies, and anoma- 
 lies, it is not astonishing if a friend may be per- 
 roittei to play the rogue in respect to palming off 
 A horse which is really worthless, or if he may be 
 allowed to practise an astute game to palm off a 
 mistress of whom he is tired. Therefore, all 
 things considered, I have not the least right to be 
 offended with Clifford in the present instance- 
 supposing, understand me, that my suspicion is 
 correct, and that he is actually endeavouring to 
 transfer la telle Floribel from his own arms to 
 mine." 
 
 Hero the conversation ceased as the gate of the 
 British Embassy was reached ; and Charles retired 
 to bis own chamber, to dress for dinner, and to 
 ponder with mingled pain, sorrow, and disgust 
 upon the manner in which the name of Agnes 
 Evelyn's cousin was mentioned by the lips of a 
 voluptuary. 
 
 CHAPTER Xi. 
 
 THE BILLET. 
 
 Os tbe following day, between two and three 
 o'clock in the afternoon, Charles De Vere— who 
 had been occupied in diplomatic business the whole 
 of the morning — was passing out of the mansion 
 
 of the Embassy to take his accustoraed walk, 
 when the porter handed him a nnte which bad 
 only been left by a messenger a few minutes pre- 
 viously. Its contents ran as follow : — 
 
 " December 15, 1818 
 "Mt beae Chakles, 
 "Come to me for a few minutes between this 
 hour and eix o'clock, as I wish to speak to you : 
 for we parted the other day in a manner which 
 for certain reasons has since been painfully re- 
 flected upon by me. 
 
 "Floribel." 
 
 Charles thrust, as he thought, this billet into 
 his waistcoat pocket; but it in reality fell upon 
 the pavement, he continuing his way unconscious 
 of the circumstance. He was musing deeply, for 
 he was at a loss how to act. When he had parted 
 from Floribel he had thought it was with an un- 
 derstanding that they were to meet no more; and 
 he most certainly was anxious to avoid the pain 
 of another interview with the lost and dis- 
 honoured young lady who seemed to have made 
 up her mind to adopt a career of profligacy as if 
 it were a fated path from which there was no 
 divergence. His first idea was therefore to step 
 into some coffee-house and write a note to the 
 efi'ect that he declined to call upon Floribel, but 
 that if there were any way in which he could with 
 honour and propriety be of service to her, she had 
 only to signify her commands by letter in order to 
 have them obeyed. Yet a second thought made 
 him resolve to adopt another course — indeed, the 
 very opposite one, and to comply with Floribel's 
 request for an interview. She was tbe cousm of 
 his Agnes— Agnes loved her dearly in spite of her 
 errors and frailties — and Agnes had moreover 
 written to Charles entreating him to do his best, 
 if circumstances permitted, to recall the strayed 
 being into the path of rectitude. It was therefore 
 a dufy which our hero felt that he had to perform 
 to see Floribel again ; and he bent his steps in 
 the direction of the hotel where she was residing 
 with Mr. Clifford. 
 
 On reaching that establishment, he was at once 
 conducted by a waiter to the apartment where he 
 had seen Floribel a few days previously ; and he 
 found her reclining loungingly upon the sofa in 
 that species of voluptuous abandonment which we 
 have already described. On entering the room, 
 Charles flung a glance of hasty scrutiny at her 
 countenance, to ascertain whether she were touched 
 by remorse and whether she had sent for him to 
 communicate any new resolve in respect to her 
 future proceedings: but her looks at once con- 
 vinced him that he must entertain no hope of this 
 kind. The same mingled boldness and sensuous 
 languor as before still characterized the expression 
 of her large dark eyes; her air, her position, 
 everything bespoke the same feelings— the same 
 state of mind, as when be had last seen her. She 
 was the embodiment of voluptuousness in all ita 
 exquisite refinement. 
 
 She extended her band towards him, saying, 
 "Tou did not expect, Charles, that I should thus 
 send for you ; and our interview need only last for 
 a few minutes. First of all I endeavoured to 
 commit to paper what I had to say— but I was not
 
 XONES: OB, SEAUTT AND FLBASCSS. 
 
 satisfied with the terms in which I worded it; and 
 therefore I thought it would be better for us to 
 meet again for a moment." 
 
 " I was in hopes, Floribel," replied De Vere 
 gravelj, as he took a seat, " that you might have 
 reflected with suilicient seriousness — that you 
 might hare exercised your good sense — that not 
 
 only for your own sake but for that of Agnes " 
 
 " No moral lectures, Charles !" interrupted 
 Floribel, with a half smile,—" although," she im- 
 mediately added, " I fully appreciate the excellence 
 of your intentions. It is about Agues that 1 High 
 to speak to you. I think I told you tbo other 
 day that when you wrote to her you might assure 
 her that my course was irrevocably taken— that 
 she need not therefore agitate or distress herself 
 on my account — but that she would do well to 
 look upon me as one dead. Have you as yet 
 written to Agnes ?" 
 
 " I have not written to her since I saw you," 
 answered De Vere mournfully; "for, in truth, I 
 knew not exactly what to say. I cannot deceive 
 her— and not tor worlds could I have committed 
 to paper all the things you said to me !" 
 
 " But you must deceive her, Charles, on this 
 one point," responded Floribel ; "yes, you must 
 deceive her as you value her happiness and her 
 peace of mind : fur on mature reflection I feel 
 that her's is a disposition that must be delicately 
 dealt with. It was to speak to you un this sub- 
 ject that I desired the present interview." 
 
 " And in what sense would you bare me de- 
 ceive herp" inquired Charles. 
 
 "Did you not tell me the other day," pro- 
 ceeded Floribel, " that in the letter which you re- 
 ceived from Agnes she expressed her desire that 
 if you saw me you would insist that 1 should at 
 once abandon Theodore unless he gave me the 
 name of wife. Well then, I have determined to 
 separate from Theodore immediately— this very 
 
 evening — or to-morrow at latest " 
 
 " And what do you purpose to do ? whither are 
 you going?" demanded Charles quickly. 
 
 "Those are my secrets," rejoined Floribel, in a 
 tone which deprecated farther questioning. " It is 
 suflicient to meet the spirit of Agnes' letter to 
 you that I separate from Theodore." 
 
 " No, Floribel !" exclaimed Charles vehemently ; 
 " is is not sufficient, if jou mean to pass to the 
 protection of another !" 
 
 " But you must make it sufficient," responded 
 Floribel: "you must seize upon the fact as a 
 means of tranquillizing the mind of Agnes. Write 
 to her — tell her that inasmuch as Theodore re- 
 fuses to make me his wife, I have separated from 
 him. Agnes, in the delicacy and generosity of 
 her own mind, will at once put the most favour- 
 able construction on the announcement : she will 
 
 think that I have returned into— into what 
 
 shall I call it ?— well, the path that she desires. 
 Tell her that it is my intention to remain alto- 
 gether on the Continent— to bury myself in seclu- 
 sion — and under a feigned name to conceal my 
 identity from the knowledge- of all who might in 
 any way be distressed on my account. These 
 
 will to 
 
 her I 
 
 lety ; 
 
 It IS an innocent deception indeed, it is 
 
 scarcely a deception ; for in the main it is strictly 
 true, because I am about to separate from Theo- 
 dore, (od I am about to take other names, so that 
 
 never henceforth shall I be known hv those of 
 j Floribel Lister." 
 
 I "Do for heaven's sake permit me," exclaimed 
 I Charles, " to present once more a few coosidera- 
 
 I tions to your mind " 
 
 I " Eouugh, Charles !" interrupted Floribel, rising 
 from her seat : " here our interview ends. 1 have 
 told you how to deal with Agnes on my account; 
 and if you love her you will follow my S'lggestioos. 
 It is useless to afilict or distress her more than on 
 ray behalf she is already afilicted and distressed. 
 The truth when unpleasant should not be always 
 told: it would be the height of punctilious fasti- 
 diousness to adhere strictly to the letter of the 
 truth in such circumstances. Nay, more — it would 
 be cruel ! Love and friendship ofteu suggest th© 
 necessity of keeping back the full extent of cala- 
 mity and misfortune. At all events I have now 
 done everything that lies in my power : I havo 
 told you how to deal with Agnes — and I must 
 leave you to follow your own course." 
 
 Having thus spoken, Floribel abruptly quitted 
 the apartment by a door communicating with an 
 inner room ; and Churles found himself alone. Ha 
 remained for a few instants in deep reflection 
 upon all that she bad said ; and he could not help 
 thinking that her concluding speech contained 
 many truthful observations. 
 
 " Yes," he said to himself, as he slowly de 
 scended the staircase of the hotel, " it would in- 
 deed be cruel to afflict and distress Agnes ! I 
 would rather plunge a dagger into my own heart 
 than came her an additional pang ? I will write 
 to her in such a sense as will at least ease her 
 mind somewhat ; and if a little deception be prac- 
 tised, it will indeed be venial in this instance." 
 
 Charles De Vere was issuing from the hotel, 
 with the resolution of returning at once to the 
 ambassadorial mansion to sit down and pen a long 
 letter to Agnes, when he found himself suddenly 
 accosted by Mr. Egerton, another attach^ to the 
 British Embassy. This was a gentleman about 
 eight-and-twenty years of age : he had formerly 
 been in the Guards, asd had acquired some little 
 notoriety as a duellist. His countenance was now 
 grave and serious, as he said, " De Vere, have the 
 kindness to accompany me. I have a hackney- 
 coach close at hand." 
 
 " Accompany you ? Whither f" inquired our 
 hero in astonishment. 
 
 " I will tell you as we proceed," replied Eger- 
 ton. "Come, my dear fellow— be quick ! for the 
 matter admits of no delay. It is serious, I can 
 assure you." 
 
 Charles hesitated no longer— but followed Mr. 
 Egerton, who walked rapidly, to a little distance, 
 ackney-vehicle was waiting. They 
 and the chaise at once drove away, 
 said Charles, " will you have the 
 y dear Egerton, to inform me of the 
 meanmg of this strange proceeding on your 
 part?" 
 
 " I have already told you that it was serious— 
 and so it is in one sense, though to a gentleman 
 it is often an absolute necessity. And, by the bye, 
 as you have once before figured with considerable 
 credit to yourself in a similar aS'air " 
 
 " What on earth can you mean ?" exclaimed 
 Charles : for though be was suddenly smitten with 
 the idea of a duel, yet be could not conjecture 
 
 ihere a 
 
 stepped i 
 
 " Now 
 
 goodness,
 
 3; OE, BEAtriT ASK PLEASURE 
 
 237 
 
 wliGCQ be bad so mortally ofiended as to provoke 
 
 it. 
 
 " I mean, my dear fellow," rejoined Bjerton, 
 
 "that there is a certain person who considers bim* 
 , self ill used and outraged by your conduct ; and 
 j I need only bint that there is a lady in the 
 
 j case " 
 
 I *'Ab!" ejaculated Charles: and then he thought 
 
 within himself, " I always had some vague notion 
 
 that the affair would get me into a scrape :"— for 
 
 hie ideas now at once settled upon Silvio. 
 
 " I see that I have said enough," interjected 
 
 Egerton ; " and indeed the less that is said in such 
 
 the betli 
 
 Wei 
 
 proceeding to a con- 
 ill is settled — everjthiug was ar- 
 ranged in a very few minutes : the other party 
 undertook to provide the weapons — and I at once 
 constituted myself your friend in the matter. 1 
 believe you are a good band with the pistol — at 
 least it is well known that vou winged Hector 
 Hardress " 
 
 " But how came you to be involved in this pro- 
 eent affair?" demanded Charles : " who spuke to 
 you on the subject ? who made the arrangements 
 which you speak of !" 
 
 " Let alone all these questionings," exclaimed 
 Egerton : *' what matter such particulars ? It is 
 Bu65cient that all has been hitherto well and fairly 
 done. During the rest of the ride tell roe what 
 little things you might in any way wish settled, if 
 — you understand me — the worst should happen." 
 
 Charles De Vere did indeed perceive the neces- 
 sity of thinking seriously on the point just sug- 
 gested. He found himself suddenly involved in 
 a duel : be was being hurried with the most inde- 
 cent haste to the appointed spot ; and he knew 
 full well that to retreat would be to brand himself 
 with cowardice — while even to demand a delay 
 would render himself liable to some unpleasant 
 iuspicion. Still be thought that on reacbiug the 
 ground explanations might be demanded on cer- 
 tair points, and thus the probability would arise 
 of his selt-exculpation from whatsoever offence 
 might be charged against him. But, on the other 
 hand, be resolved to prepare himself fur the worst. 
 He took out his pocket-book, and wrote in it a 
 few lines addressed to his mother and to Agnes : 
 be then closed the book and restored it to his 
 
 " If I fall, EgertoD," he said, in a celm col- 
 lected voice, "you will find that pocket-book about 
 my person ; and you will have the kindness to 
 forward it to my mother in Eoglaod. You will 
 oblige me by adding a few lines of your own, to 
 convey the assurance that it was not I who pro- 
 voked this duel, and that it must have arisen from 
 a complete misunderstanding of certain circum- 
 stances." 
 
 " I comprehend !" said Egerton. " Depend 
 upon it that the affair shall be treated with all 
 possible delicacy, not merely by myself, but by the 
 opposite party." 
 
 By this time the backney-coach was outside the 
 suburbs of Naples ; and in a few minutes it 
 stopped under the wall of a rained edifice, which 
 had once been a celebrated monastery dedicated 
 to St. Nicholas. Egerton and Charles alighted— 
 the coachman was desired to wait— and having 
 skirted the wall, the two gentlemen passed into 
 the midst of the ruins. On turning the angle of 
 
 sight of two 
 
 igen- 
 
 a dilapidated tower, they ca 
 other gentlemen at a little dig 
 
 " Why, here are Holcroft and Winton 
 claimed Charles,- Mr. Winton being also 
 tieman belonging to tho Embassy. 
 
 " Of course !" said Mr. Egerton, somewhat 
 surprised at the ejaculation. *' Ah, I see ! — -you 
 are annoyrd that they should bo before us ? Upon 
 my soul, Be Vere, you are a devilish fine fellow — 
 and I am proud ot being your second !" 
 
 *' But you have misunderstood me !" cried 
 Charles ; "or else 1 must be sadly misunderstand- 
 
 " Where is the misunderstanding ?" asked 
 Egerton, with renewed astonishment. " There 
 is Sir Alexander Holcroft " 
 
 " Ah !" ejnculated our hero, aa the true light 
 now burst in upon him. " The misunderstanding 
 exists in this," he at once proceeded to say seri- 
 ously and impressively,-" that if it be Sir Alex- 
 ander Holcroft who seeks to provoke me to this 
 
 " Who should it be but Holcroft ?" demanded 
 Egerton, almost angrily. " You seemed just now 
 to understand the matter well enough when I told 
 you that there was a lady in the case " 
 
 " Frankly speaking," interrupted Charles, " all 
 my ideas pointed to some one else !" 
 
 " Well then, my dear sir," said Egerton curtly, 
 " if you are such a desperate fellow in your love 
 affairs that you incur the risk of having half-a- 
 dozen gentlemen down upon you, it is your busi- 
 ness aud not mine. The only thing to be said is 
 that you are now meeting oae whom you did not 
 expect, instead of another offended party whom 
 you evidently did expect." 
 
 *' Egsrtou," said De Vere, " your words would 
 be an insult under any other circumstances: but 
 here they are an absolute cruelty ! You must not 
 pretend to read what was passing in my mind 
 when just now in the chaise " 
 
 " Mr. De Vere," interrupted Egerton coldly, 
 " do you or do you not mean to afford Sir Alex, 
 ander Hulcruft satisfaction for the offence which 
 you have given him ? That is now the only qjes- 
 tion ; aud I beg that it may be at once decided." 
 
 " I have given Sir Alexander Holcroft no 
 offence," replied our hero firmly ; *' and before I 
 stand in his presence to risk my own life, or with 
 the chance of taking bis " 
 
 " What is the matter, gentlemen ?" inquired 
 Mr. Wiuton, stepping forward ; and as ho was a 
 middle-aged man, cool, sedate, and deliberate, he 
 thought from appearances that there was a mis- 
 take of some kind or another. 
 
 " I am called upon," exclaimed De Vere, " to 
 fight with Sir Alexander Holcroft " 
 
 "Hush, my dear friend 1" interposed Mr. 
 Egerton, who stood to a nicety upon punctilios in 
 affairs of honour : "it is my province and duty as 
 your second to hear and answer questions." 
 
 " Well then, Egerton, what is it ?" asked Mr. 
 Winton. 
 
 '■ 1 am somewhat embarrassed how to reply," 
 said the gentleman appealed to ; " for the fact is I 
 thought that my principal Mr. De Vere 
 thoroughly comprehended in the first instance 
 whom be was to encounter here, whereas now it 
 transpires that be expected to meet some one else 
 — and hence the perplexity."
 
 AGICBS; 
 
 S, BEAUTT A5D PIBABITSS. 
 
 " The whole matter lies in a nutshell," said JXr. 
 Winton. " Sir Alexander Holcrol't feels aegrieved 
 DD certain points which are so well established hj 
 indisputable evidence that Mr. De Vere can have 
 nothing to do but decide whether he will apologize 
 or 6ght f" 
 
 " I cannot apologize," said our hero, " where I 
 utterly deny having given any offence. Perhaps 
 even still more loath were I to stand up in a 
 mortal combat with a roan who has no satisfaction 
 to demand of me, and against whom I myself en- 
 tertain naught but a friendly feeling." 
 
 " It seems," said Sir Alexander Holcroft, now 
 stepping forward from the spot where he had lin- 
 gered at a little distance, " that 1 must have a 
 few words with 3J>. De Vere." 
 
 " I really do not think that Winton and myself 
 can permit it," interposed Egerton, who was ter- 
 ribly afraid that matters might be amicably 
 arranged and that he would be baulked of the 
 pleasure of beholding a duel. 
 
 " Where lives are at stake, ilr. Egerton," said 
 Winton decisively, " we must not stand upon mere 
 punctilios." 
 
 " I will now speak, gentlemen," said Sir Alex- 
 ander Holcroft, " more in detail than I have pre- 
 viously spoken to you on this subject. There is a 
 certain lady to whom I was showing some little 
 attentions ; and it would appear that ilr. De 
 Vere is intimately acquainted with her. Yet 
 though Mr. De Tere and I have two or three 
 times spoken concerning her, he has affected to be 
 altogether unacquainted with her. There was a 
 studied duplicity in this " 
 
 " Sather say, sir," interjected Charles, " that 
 there were motives of exceeding delicacy " 
 
 " Delicacy indeed !" exclaimed the Baronet 
 angrily. " And you heard me almost as good as 
 declare that I should take her as my mistress — 
 while vou vourself were carrying on an intrigue 
 with her!"" 
 
 '■ 1 deny it, sir ! I utterly deny it 1" ejaculated 
 Charles indignantly. 
 
 "This is really too much!" exclaimed the 
 Baronet, now becoming excited. " Oh ! I know 
 very well, sir, that there is a masculine prudery as 
 well as a feminine one ; and you are a proficient 
 in the former. How indignant you pretended to 
 be at the idea of a man endeavouring to palm off 
 his mistress upon another — while you yourself 
 were doubtless inwardly chuckling at the idea that 
 it was your own paramour likewise who was thus 
 being gotten rid of ! Or else, perhaps, you were 
 desirous that matters should remain as they were, 
 60 that you might continue to enjoy stealthy 
 access to the fair one, under favour of the indif- 
 ference of her present protec>or— whereas you 
 might have thought that if she came under my 
 protection it would be different. And then too, to 
 think that I was such a fool as to enter into long 
 arguments and moralise upon subjects with which 
 you perhaps, after all, are mucli better acquainted 
 than I myself !" 
 
 " Sir Alexander Holcroft," said Charles De 
 Vere, the indignant blood flushing bis cheeks, '' X 
 have listened to you with a constrained patience, 
 be<.-ause I was desirous to learn the full extent of 
 your misunderstandings and erroneous construc- 
 tions " 
 
 " By heaven, this ia intolerable I" ejaculated the 
 
 Baronet, now lashed up into a fury. " WTiy, rir, 
 the whole tenour of your conduct has been 
 fraught with a duplicity — a hypocrisy — a doable- 
 dealing " 
 
 " I deny it," exclaimed De Vere. "ExpUDa* 
 tion is easy " 
 
 " What, sir, in the face of this 7" cried the en- 
 raged Baronet, producing a note, which he tossed 
 scornfully to De Vere. 
 
 The youth caught it in his hand— opened it — 
 and started when he perceived that it was the 
 identical billet that Floribel had sent to him, and 
 of the loss of which he had remained completely 
 unconscious until the present moment. 
 
 " Sow, sir," exclaimed the Baronet, " will yoa 
 deny " 
 
 " Tes— I deny everything that you have said I" 
 responded our hero ; " and if you will listen for a 
 moment " 
 
 "My G.jd, he is a coward after aU !" ejacu- 
 lated Sir Alexander. " Perhaps this will raise bia 
 mettle !"— and with his open palm he struck our 
 hero upon the face. 
 
 The very next instant the Baronet was levelled 
 with the ground; and Charles exclaimed, as he 
 turned away from the opponent whom he had 
 thus smitten to the earth, " Sow indeed there is 
 no alternative but that shots should be ex- 
 changed!" 
 
 "Ah!" ejaculated Egerton, quite cheered by the 
 sudden turn which the aspect of affairs had taken; 
 " this is as it ought to be I" 
 
 The Baronet rose slowly from the earth ; for he 
 was half stunned by the tremendous blow which 
 our hero had dealt him with his clenched fist : bia 
 face was pale with rage — and he muttered to his 
 second, '• By heaven, Winton, nothing but that 
 fellow's life-blood shall satisfy me !" 
 
 " Be cool. Sir Alexander," whispered the second : 
 " for De Tere is evidently no coward ; and I am 
 a'all almost inclined to think that there must be 
 some mistake " 
 
 " Impossible !" ejaculated the Baronet : " it is 
 all his cursed duplicity. Where are the pistols i 
 Go and settle matters with Egerton." 
 
 Having thus spoke. Sir Alexander Holcroft 
 seated himself upon a block of stone; and drawing 
 forth a brandy-flask, he applied it to his lips. 
 Not that he required any stimulant for his cou- 
 rage, because he was as dauntless as man could 
 be : but the brandy had been brought in case of 
 need as a restorative in particular circumstances — 
 and having it thus ready to the hand, be availed 
 himself of the stimulant to revive the energies 
 which had been half paralysed by the blow that 
 levelled him. Meanwhile C'narles De Vere, stand- 
 ing at a little distance, was making some addi- 
 tional notes in his pocket-book, briefly allusive to 
 the causes of the duel; — and at the same time the 
 seconds were measuring the ground. 
 
 All the preliminaries being now settled, the 
 seconds stationed their principals, to whom they 
 likewise handed the pistols. The signal was given 
 —but nnly one report was heard. It was Sir 
 Alexander who had fired ; and Egerton, who bad 
 bis eyes riveted upon De Vere, admired immensely 
 the cuol courage which he maintained throughout, 
 The bullet whistled harmlessly by Charles's car; 
 and then he pointed bis own weapcn strmight up 
 into the air and discharged it.
 
 i.OHE3; OR, B£A.iriT ATIV FLEABUBB, 
 
 239 
 
 "Why did jou do that?" demanded Egerton 
 rushing towards him. ' 
 
 " Because I did not thirst for his blood," was 
 the answer. " For (be blow which he gave me, I 
 bad already chastised him. In other respects he 
 18 labouring under an egregious mistake on my 
 account; and I did not w.sh him to fall the victim 
 to an error which is really more or less supported 
 by circumstantial evidence. Lot him take another 
 shot if ho think fit : hot in that case I shall not 
 again discharge my weapon up into the air !" 
 
 Egerton advanced towards Winton, and inquired 
 vhat that gentleman now proposed to do on behalf 
 of his principal ? 
 
 " I should recommend," said Mr. Winton, " that 
 Sir Alexander Holcroft listen to whatsoever ex- 
 planation Mr. De Vere may have to give." 
 
 "Ob !" exclaimed Egerton, who was anxious to 
 gee shots veritably exchanged, " I cannot possibly 
 allow my principal to give any explanations after 
 yours has once refused to listen to tbem." 
 
 " But I," said Mr. Winton, " on the score of 
 humanity, appeal earnestly to Sir Alexander and 
 entrealingly to Mr. De Vere " 
 
 " My dear fellow," interposed Egerton : " there 
 is no such thing as humanity wbero points of 
 honour are concerned." 
 
 " I diflfer from you, sir," rejoined Mr. Winton, 
 coldly and severely : then turning to Sir Alex- 
 ander, he whispered hastily with him for a few 
 minutes. 
 
 " De Vere," said Egerton, speeding towards 
 hia own principal, "you will give no explana- 
 tions?" 
 
 " Certainly not at this stage of the proceed- 
 ings," replied our hero, "Let my antagonist fire 
 again if he think fit." 
 
 " Sir Alexander Holcroft is satisfied," exclaimed 
 Mr. Winton, proclaiming the announcement with 
 a real pleasure depicted on his countenance, while 
 Mr. Egerton looked proportionately annoyed that 
 so pleasant a little affair should be thus nipped in 
 the bud. 
 
 " In that case," said Charles De Vere, " I can 
 have no hesitation in convincing Sir Alexander 
 Holcroft that he has all along misunderstood and 
 wronged me." 
 
 " If you prove that much," said the Baronet, 
 " I shall owe you the amplest apologies !" 
 
 " You will not disbelieve, sir," continued our 
 hero, " the words which were written by a man at 
 the moment before he had to stand in the face of 
 a loaded pistol. Bead this page of my pocket- 
 book." 
 
 Thus speaking, Charles presented the pocket- 
 book to the Barouet, who perused what was 
 written on the page specialty indicated. Its con- 
 tents were as follow (the two first paragraphs, be 
 it understood, having been pencilled in the chaise 
 at a time when Charles imagined that it was 
 Silvio, the guilty Ginevra's lover, whom he was 
 about to meet) : — 
 
 "To MT DEAEEST MoiHEK.— I am unfortu- 
 nately on the poiot of being dragged into a duel 
 through circumstances which involve not the 
 slightest fault on my own part, and the particu- 
 lars of which I have not time to record. If I 
 fall, they will be related to you by others ; and 
 heaven grant that they may be truthfully told, 
 
 and that their proper interpretation may tran- 
 spire. God bless you, my dearest mother ! 
 
 " To MT BELOVED AoxES. — Should the fatal 
 necessity arise for these lines to be shown to you, 
 believe me, dearest, when I declare that never in 
 thought or deed have I proved faithless to the 
 love which I bear you ! 
 
 " Addenda (written upon tho ground). ~\ 
 I now find that I had previously misunderstood the 
 , cause of the due! to which lam provoked. Dearest 
 mother— and beloved Agnes — those causes are 
 connected with Floribel. Yes, dear Agnes ! be- 
 cause in obedience to your wish I sought your 
 erring cousin in the hope of turning her steps 
 into the right path — and because from motives 
 of delicacy I had previously abstained from 
 making the slightest allusion to her— I have en- 
 tailed upon myself the most outrageous suspicions. 
 I must leave it to Floribel to give you a full and 
 faithful account of everything that passed between 
 herself and me. God bless you both !" 
 
 These were the lines which Sir Alexander Hol- 
 croft attentively perused, while Winton and Eger- 
 ton stood at a short distance ; for they compre- 
 hended that the leaf of the pocket-book was for 
 the Baronet's inspection only. 
 
 " One word, Mr. De Vere," said Sir Alexander : 
 and when our hero approached him, he added in 
 a low voice, " I am to understand, therefore, that 
 Floribel is the cousin of the young lady to whom 
 you are engaged ?" 
 
 j Charles replied in the aflirmative. 
 
 I " And this therefore is the reason that she ad- 
 dresses you familiarly by your Christian name in 
 
 [ that billet ?" 
 
 " The reason is as you interpret it," rejoined 
 Charles. " And now, sir, if you will reflect upon 
 everything which has passed between you and me 
 in respect to Mr. Clifford and this erring young 
 lady, you will understand that the feelings which 
 chiefly inspired me at the time, were sorrow, dis- 
 
 I gust, and indignation, that she by her conduct 
 should have laid herself open to be treated and 
 spoken of with libertine levity, and that others 
 should have thus treated and spoken of her." 
 
 1 " I see it all, De Vere !" exclaimed the Baro- 
 net ; " and my error has been deplorable. I 
 tender you the amplest apologies ! Can you and 
 will you forgive me ?" 
 
 " Here is my hand. Sir Alexander," replied our 
 hero, as he proffered it. 
 
 The Baronet grasped it warmly— while Egerton 
 whispered to Winton, "It is a pity the business 
 ended so soon ; for after all, they are two fine 
 fellows to be opposed to each other." 
 
 Mr. Winton turned on his heel without making 
 any reply to the observation ; and the four gentle- 
 men now proceeded to the hackney-coach which was 
 waiting at tho place where it had been left,— the 
 one that brought the Baronet and Winton thither 
 being dismissed. On their way back into Naples, 
 it was agreed that the completest secrecy should 
 be maintained in respect to the affair ; and the 
 driver of tho hackney-coach was liberally re- 
 warded, or rather bribed, to keep Lis own counsel. 
 On reaching the Embassy, Charles De Vere 
 proceeded in his own chamber, where in a few 
 minutes he was joined by Sir Alexander Hol- 
 croft.
 
 210 
 
 X05B8; OB, BBArrr ABD FLEA3CBB. 
 
 Seating himself at the table, S'.r Alezandar 
 
 penned a letter, which he showed to De Vere, and 
 
 f which ran as follow : — 
 
 '•My dear friend." said the Baronet,—" for in 
 sach a light do 1 now reallj consider you after the 
 painful adventures of this day— I wish to consult 
 you, for I feel myself awkwardly situated. I do 
 not pretend to be very straightlaced or particular; 
 but after all that has transpired, I would do co- 
 thing that might prove unpleasant or disagreeable 
 towards yourself. In plain terms, I am alluding . compel me to request that I may be permitted I 
 
 " Mt deae Madam, 
 " Circumstances which have suddenly trana- 
 pired, and over which I hare no control, paiafallj 
 
 to Flo 
 
 " I think, Sir Alexander," said Charles gravely, 
 " that I can partially understand what is upper- 
 most in your mind. She told me this afternoon 
 that she was immediately to separate fiom Mr. 
 Clifford; and from all you had previously said, I 
 
 revoke the promise which I made this morning, 
 and that you will kindly look upon the overture 
 as if it had never been proposed. At the same 
 time believe me when 1 assure you that I must 
 ever regard you with a sentiment of friendship. 
 You are not happy with Mr. Clifford ; and yon 
 
 judged But Oh ! you know not how painful ; desire to leave Mm. la the confidence with i 
 
 ifor 
 
 «ben I think of her amiable 
 
 sutge 
 1 virtue 
 ' Bear with the topic for a few i 
 
 you honoured me, I le 
 I that you bare not funds immediately available at 
 utes," said , your command. May I therefore, without giving 
 
 the Baronet ; " and it will end at once and ior | you olTence, request you to make use of the ea- 
 ever so far as I am concerned. It is true that | closed ?— and if at any future period I can be o( 
 
 a similar manner, I trust tliat 
 ourself of my 
 
 Floribel consented to place herself under my pro- service to you 
 lection. I called upon her this morning — I made ] you will not hesitate 
 
 avail 
 
 friendship. 
 
 ' Tours very faithfully, 
 
 " Aleiasdes Holcbofi.' 
 
 The letter enclosed a cheque upon the Baronet's 
 Neapolitan banker for a sum which in English 
 money may be represented as two thousand guineaa. 
 Charles De Vere could not help admiring the pecu- 
 niary liberality of Sir Alexander Holcrofl; while 
 the whole tenour of his conduct in this concluding 
 scene of the drama was stamped with a generosity 
 all the more retnarkable when the general libertin- 
 
 my overtures — and they were accepted. You 
 may therefore imagine the degree of rage which 
 seized upon me when in the gateway of the Em- 
 bassy 1 picked up the note which you had evi- 
 dently by accident let fall. My measures were at 
 once taken ; and hence the occurrence which 1 so 
 deeply deplore. But that is not now the point. 
 How am I to act with regard to Floribel? If I 
 decline fulfilling the promises I have made her, 
 she will be justified in looking upon my conduct 
 as most ungentlemanly and unhandsome : but on 
 the other hand, I feel after aU which has tiiis 
 afternoon taken place, that it would be an outrage 
 
 upon your feelings to become the cause of leading ] age of his character was taken 
 the cousin of your betrothed more deeply into the i Charles could not therefore offer a syllabi 
 ways of error." 
 
 "It is impossible for me to offer an opinion 
 upon such a subject," replied De Vere. " I may 
 sink in your estimation as a man of the world — 
 you may even look upon me as a milksop or a 
 oaint, though I can assure you I am neither — but 
 to be candid, the whole matter to which you refer 
 is so profligate that I cannot bear to submit it to 
 the process of deliberate reflection." 
 
 Sir Alexander Holcrolt paced the room for a 
 few minutes in bewilderment how to act. He 
 wished to gain possession of a beautiful mistress : 
 but on the other band he was loath to act un- 
 graciously or ungenerously towards our hero after 
 everything that had occurred. At length suddenly 
 stopping short, he said to Charles, *' Tell me 
 franklv, De Vere, wotila there be any breach of 
 friendship betwixt us if I were to fulfil my pro- 
 mise to Floribel ?" 
 
 " I have no right to dictate in the matter," re- 
 sponded our hero ; " and therefore I should say 
 nothing on the point, did you not so frankly and 
 generously appeal to me. My answer shall there- 
 fore be given with equal frankness. As between 
 two men of the world, we should of course con- 
 tinue on speaking terms if you took Floribel as 
 your mistress. But never," adde.l Charles empha- 
 tically, '* could I regard as a friend the man who 
 brought that erring creature one step lower down 
 tt? ladder which she is so fatally descending !" 
 
 " I have asked your decision," said the Baronet; 
 "and now you shall see how I will act. Have 
 you writing materials ? Ah ! they are here." 
 
 but on the contrary he expressed his 
 gratitude to the Baronet :— and from that moment 
 a strong friendship existed between them. 
 
 The letter, with its valuable enclosure, was duly 
 despatched : bat no answer was returned- The 
 Baronet had however taken care that it should be 
 delivered into Floribel's hand unseen by the un- 
 principled Clifford, for fear lest the latter should 
 endeavour to obtain from her the funds with which 
 she was thus provided. On the following day Sir 
 Alexander ascertained that Fioribel had quitted 
 Xaples at an early hour the same morning ; and 
 Clifford at first thought that she bad gone some- 
 where to place herself under the Baronet's pro- 
 tection But of this idea Sir Alexander quickly 
 disabused him ; and Clifford flippantly exclaimed, 
 " Well, I really fancied you had taken a liking to 
 the girl. But no matter where or with whom she 
 is gone, since she is fairly off my hands!" 
 
 He himself shortly afterwards left Naplea for 
 the purpose of visiting Paris. 
 
 On the day after the duel, Charles De Tere 
 wrote a long letter to Agnes, in wbich he informed 
 her that Fioribel had separated from Mr. Clifford 
 
 upon the Continent— to dwell in strict seclusion — 
 and under a feigned name to conceal her identity 
 as the cousin of Agnes Evelyn. Without actually 
 recording the falsehood, Charles so worded his letter 
 that it might impress Agnes with the idea that 
 Floribel meant to pursue a better path, and that it 
 was through contrition she purposed to seek seclu- 
 sion and to change her name. We may add that
 
 Buchwas the signiGcancy which the amiable and 
 beautiful Agnes attached to this epistle from Be 
 Vere ; and though she was for from being rendered 
 entirely bappj on her erring cousin's account, she 
 was at all events much cheered and comforted, and 
 she prajed that the supposed coulrition might be 
 ecmplete and permanent. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 THE BALL AI IDE EMBASSY. 
 
 TnBEE or four dajs elapsed after the duel in the 
 ruins of the Abbey of St. Nicholas, and still 
 Charles De Vere received no communication from 
 Ginevra. During this interval he called again at 
 Nino Cnrsu's lodgings: but he did not on tliia 
 Ko. 31.-A.-;>-KS. 
 
 occaiion beliold the tall distinuuished-looking man 
 who was constrained by circumstances to hide 
 himself beneath the roof of the same house, 
 lieither did he inquire concerning him; for he 
 thought that it would be wrong to exhibit any 
 curiosity upon the point as to whether he were 
 still there or whether he had sought another 
 aaylum. In respect to the continued silence of 
 Ginevra our hero grew uneasy ; for he naturally 
 thought that under all circumstances it was her 
 duty to signify with the least possible delay hjr 
 intentions in reference to her child. 
 
 The British Ambassador and his lady were now 
 to give a splendid entertainment, at which all the 
 elite of the Neapolitan nobility, as well as the 
 most distinguished foreigners then residing at 
 Naples, were to be present. Thare was in the 
 6ret ioBtance a dinner-party, the table being laid 
 tor the aceommodatiun of sixty guests; and as
 
 !I2 
 
 AGJIS8; OE, SEXUIY 
 
 Charles sat neit to Sir Alciander Holcroft, the 
 latter interested and amused bim with brief 
 pi'iuant biogriipbical sketches or anecdotes relative 
 lo the principal personages present. At ten o'clock 
 the doors of the saloons were thrown open; and a 
 continuous stream of carriages, rolling up to the 
 gate of the ambassadorial mansion, set down the 
 company. By half-past ten tiie spacious and 
 magnificent suite of drawing-rooms were 6lled with 
 handsomely dressed gentlemen and elegantly appa- 
 relled ladies,— the gulden flood of lustre giving 
 to the entire scene an air of magnificence and 
 grandeur. The diamonds upon the brow and 
 bosom of beauty reflected that lustre with vivid 
 jets of light : the splendid uniforms of military 
 officers were conspicuous amidst the assemblage. 
 
 Charles De Vere was standing near a window- 
 recess in company with Sir Alexander Holcroft, 
 who now, as previously at the dinner-table, was 
 pointing out to him the most distinguished per. 
 sonages. The greater portion of the company had 
 already arrived ; and dancing soon commenced. 
 As a matter of course the attaches were expected 
 to assist the noble host and hostess as much as 
 possible in doing the honours of the mansion; and 
 Holcroft said to Charles, " TTe must temporarily 
 separate, De Vere, to choose our partners. You 
 are already acquainted with a suflicient number 
 of ladies to enable you to make a good selection 
 for you-self. Hasten then, and let us play our 
 part in giving life to the entertainment." 
 
 Charles was soon involved with an agreeable 
 partner in the mazes of the dance— where his 
 handsome person, his elegant figure, the exquisite 
 taste with which he was dressed, as well as his 
 youtLfulness, attracted general attention ; so that 
 the whisper soon circulated amongst those to 
 whom be was previously unknown that this was 
 the new attache to the British Embassy. 
 
 The dance being concluded, Charles, having 
 conducted his partner to her scat, presently re- 
 joined Sir Alexander Holcroft, who was in excel- 
 lent spirits, and whose conversation sparkled with 
 a liveliness that rendered it even more than usually 
 interesting. 
 
 "You see that fat dowager on yonder otto- 
 man?" he whispered to DeVere: "she is a rich 
 old countess— I forget her name at the moment— 
 and having been a desperate intriguante in the 
 sphere of love, she is e;)W as deeply plunged in 
 the Tortei of politics. Xuat beautiful young crea- 
 ture seated next to her. is her daughter; and 
 although married to a young and handsome man — 
 Ah ! by the bye, there is her husband, talking at 
 this very moment to Egerton- it is confidently 
 rumoured and as generally believed that she has 
 already had two lovers. That tall distinguished- 
 looking man in tho Gkneral's uniform, is the 
 ilarquis of Ortona. It is whispered that in bis 
 heart he entertains most liberal opinions, and that 
 he would gladly 8c« the Bourbon dynasty deposed 
 from the Neapolitan throne. Indeed, at the 
 beginiiing of the present year be experienced some 
 little difficulty, if I have been rightly informed, in 
 convincing tlie Government that he bad not been 
 secretly intriguing with certain conspirators. 
 However, he did succeed — and there he is in his 
 splendid uniform, and his breast corered with 
 orders." 
 
 ^ I have beard something of that consoiracy to 
 
 lKD PLBASCaS. 
 
 which you have just alluded," said Charles; "and 
 if I mistake not, screral of tho most distinguished 
 Neapolitan noblemen were implicated in it i" 
 
 " You have been perfectly well informed," an- 
 swered Holcroft ; " for it is very difTerent in this 
 country from what it is in our's. Here, in Italy, 
 many of tho nobles are devoted to the popular 
 cause. By the byo, it was a strange thing— but 
 not the less a fact as it transpired— that the con- 
 templated rising of the French Republicans at the 
 beginning of the year against Louis -Philippe, was 
 known to the secret societies of Naples; and the 
 R'publicans in this city laid all their plans to 
 make a demonstration against their Government 
 the instant the intelligooee should reach them that 
 the people had risen in Paris But it seems that 
 there was a traitor in the ranks of the Neapolitan 
 liberals ; for early in January— and therefore some 
 six or seven weeks before the French Bevolution 
 broke out — all the machinations, plans, and hopes 
 of the Neapolitan conspirators were fully be- 
 trayed. The result was that some fled in conster- 
 nation : but the greater portion were ciptured and 
 thrown into dungeons. It was in this conspiracy 
 of which I am speaking that the Marquis of 
 Ortona was suspected to have been implicated : 
 but he not merely remained to face the storm, but 
 even succeeded in braving it. Less fortunate was 
 another leading personage amongst the conspi- 
 rators—a certain Count of Camerino, who wa: 
 compelled to fly precipitately. He is a nobleman 
 of wealth and consequence, and had every reason 
 to enjoy his worldly advantages in peace and 
 tranquillity rather than involve himself in all 
 sorts of troubles by taking part in plots and con 
 spiracles." 
 
 " Perhaps he deeply felt t«e enslaved and de. 
 graded position of tho Neapolitan people?" ob- 
 served our hero. 
 
 "There can be no doubt that he was sincere as 
 well as enthusiastic in his conduct," r.j lined Sir 
 Alexander Holcroft : " but for my part I cannot 
 conceive bow a man in bis position CL.-uld run such 
 risks when he had so much to lose personally, and 
 so little to gain." 
 
 " Perhaps he is young and ardent " 
 
 " Ardent he may be, and assuredly he is— but 
 young he is not ; for his age is midway betwixt 
 forty and fifty. He had not long married a beau- 
 tiful young creature — he was a widower, by the 
 bye— and this was his second wife " 
 
 " I presume she accompanied him on his flight P" 
 said Charles inquiringly. 
 
 " No," rejoined the Baronet : " she remained 
 at Naples ; and she used at one lime to visit the 
 Embassy — but now that we are speaking of her, C 
 recollect that I have not seen her lately. It is 
 supposed that the Count of Camerino fled to France, 
 and left bis young wife behind him that she might 
 become the secret means of communication be- 
 tween himself and his liberal friends in the Neapo- 
 litan capital : though I should thiak that this is 
 scarcely probable— lor the Count is a magoanimous- 
 miaded man, and would scarcely expose his young 
 wife to the consequences of detection it engaged iu 
 such treasonable matters. It is far more probable 
 that his flight took place so precipitately there 
 was no time to make arrangements for the Countess 
 to accompany him ; and as it is supposed he went 
 to Paris aul tho French Bevolutiju broke out
 
 toon afterwards, the unsettled condition of that 
 eountrj may have hitherto prevented him from 
 lending for the Countesj to join him in the French 
 capital." 
 
 " And were not his estates confiscated P" in- 
 quired Charles De Xere. 
 
 " It happens," replied Sir Alexander Holeroft, 
 " that though the C'^unt of Camerino is a Neapo- 
 lilan;nobleman, his principal estates are in Tus- 
 cany, and therefore safe from confiscation. He 
 however possesses a handsome house in Naples — 
 where, 1 beliovo, Lis Countess resides. But it 
 suited the King's policy to deal leniently in re- 
 spect to the leading conspirators and their families 
 —for Naples has ever since been in a ferment, and 
 Sicily, 08 you know, was in rebellion ; so that the 
 King and bis Government perhaps deemed it more 
 prudent to leave the unfortunate young Countess 
 in undisputed possession of her home. The Count's 
 son was however compelled to fly " 
 
 " His son ?" repeated Charles. " I thought 
 you said that the Cuunt had only recently mar- 
 ried " 
 
 " Only recently married his second wife, I told 
 you," responded the Baronet. " He had long been 
 ,1 widower— he had one son by his first marriage 
 
 But Ah ! dancing is to bj renewed. Let us 
 
 go and choose our partners." 
 
 The two friends now again separated ; and 
 Charles Do Tero was hastening through the 
 splendid saloon towards a group of fair ones at 
 the further extremity, when he stopped suddenly 
 short — for at the moment he beheld a beautifully 
 dressed lady entering the apartment. Sbe was 
 •ppareUed with mingled taste and elegance : her 
 iiead-dress of black lace set off the shining glory 
 of her glossy auburn hair— her well-modelled arms 
 were bare to the shoulders— the tight. fitting corsage 
 displayed the symmetry of her shape. There was 
 a colour upon her cheeks, — a colour which Charles 
 more than conjectured arose from a strong inward 
 excitement, as her large blue eyes glanced rapidly 
 'round the room. For this was Ginevra — the 
 guilty Ginevra ! — the mother of the child so sin- 
 gularly confided to his guardianship— the penitent 
 whom be had seen in the church ! 
 
 Suddenly smitten with the idea that if he ro. 
 vealed himself too abruptly to her view she might 
 be overcome by her sense of shame, and that 
 her feelings would be betrayed, he stepped aside, 
 half-concealing himself behind a pillar whence ho 
 could still keep his eye upon her. Tue Marquis 
 of Ortona almost immediately hastened to accost 
 Ginevra, to whom he gave his arm ; for she had 
 evidently arrived without any male companion — 
 indeed altogether alone. The Marquis escorted 
 her towards the wife of the British Ambassador ; 
 and the noble hostess gave her hand in a friendly 
 manner to Ginevra. 
 
 " She is, then, after all, a lady of consequence !" 
 thought Charles within himself. " She has evi- 
 dently come to seek me here : lor she knows my 
 name — she knows likewise that I belong to 
 the Embassy. The moment is now approaching 
 when the mystery must be cleared up !" 
 
 Having paid her respects to the British Ambas- 
 sador's wife, Ginevra walked slowly away with her 
 noble companion tho Marquis of Ortona ; and 
 Charles perceived that she was furtively flinging 
 her glances in all directions. 
 
 r AXD pl5:asueb. i :itJ 
 
 '■ She is seeking for me !" ho said to himself ; 
 and he emerged from his half-conoealmeat behind 
 the stately marble pillar. 
 
 In a few moments his eves encountered the 
 looks of Genevra : for an instant she became 
 deadly pale — then her entire countenance was 
 suffused with a deep blush— but in another mo- 
 ment her demeanour was collected and composed. 
 Sho continued to converse gaily — or rather, per- 
 haps, in an assumed tone of fjniety with tho Mar- 
 quis of Ortona, as they both advanced along the 
 same side of the room where Charles was stationed. 
 As they drew near, ho wondered within himself 
 whether she would openly recognise him, or what 
 course she would pursue. At all events he was 
 inspired with tho generous determination to leave 
 tho matter to her own discretion, and not to ap- 
 pear to recognise her unless she herself should 
 give him the first encouragement. 
 
 The Marquis and Giuevra advanced slowly, with 
 that fashionable lounging pace which is adopted in 
 ball-rooms ; and just as they were passing by our 
 j hero, Ginevra darted upon him a significant glance 
 I — then her looks were swept around— and the 
 nest instant she slipped a billet into his hand. 
 She continued her way, still conversing gaily witti 
 her companion ; and as the little incident was the 
 work of a single moment, Ciia.les flattered him- 
 self that it utterly escaped observation. He re- 
 mained for a few minutes longer in the room, and 
 I then retired to some unoccupied apartment, where 
 he proeeeded to open the billet. It contained thesu 
 
 " Generous Englishman, my life's gratitude is 
 your due ! Meet me to-morrow, at the hour of 
 noon precisely, at the door of tho church where I 
 I saw you the other day. As I have hitherto trusted, 
 so I still confidently trust in your honour, your 
 generosity, and your secrecy ! 
 
 " GiNEVBA." 
 
 " Then, after all, she did know that I was in 
 the church ! she did observe me on one of those 
 occasions!" exclaimed diaries within himself. 
 "Porhapashe thinks that I am aware who she is? 
 —at all events she must know that this night I 
 cannot fail to learn her name ! She signs with 
 her Christian name only : but this is perhaps a 
 wise precaution — for there may be more than one 
 Ginevra present ; and if the billet happened to be 
 lost, it would be impossible to identify the parti- 
 cular Ginevra by whom it was penned. Yes— 
 assuredly to-morrow I will keep this appoint- 
 
 Charles then burnt the billet, and retraced his 
 way to the drawing-rooms. There he was almost 
 immediately joined by Holeroft, who said, " Where 
 have you been dancing, De Vere ? I did not see 
 you anywhere in the grand saloon -" 
 
 " 1 stopped out to— to— procure some little re- 
 freshment-for I did not feel quite well " 
 
 " And yet the rooms are cool enough," inter- 
 jected the Baronet: "but there is somewhat too 
 great a profusion of these greenhouse ri^jwers, and 
 the atmosphere is sickly. Ah !" he suddenly eja- 
 culated : " look yonder !" 
 
 " What is it ? ' asked De Vere. 
 
 " You see that lady leaning on tbe arm of the 
 Marouis of Ortona "
 
 ■2U 
 
 XOHES; OB, BEAUX 
 
 " Yes— I hud already noticed her ; and in fact I 
 was ju6t on the point of inquiring whether you 
 might happen to know " 
 
 "Know her? Of course I do/' responded Sir 
 Alexander. "That is the very lady I was talking 
 about just now — the Countess of Camerino." 
 
 " Ah !" and it was with dil£euUy that our hero 
 ceuld repress a sudden start, or prevent his coun- 
 tenance from betraying the emotion which seized 
 upon him. " let us step aside : the Countess may 
 think we are talking of her." 
 
 '-' And what pretty woman does not like to be 
 talked about ? " inquired the Barouet, laughing, as 
 he passed his arm through that of Charles, while 
 they began to make a promenading circuit of the 
 saloon. "The Countess of Camerino knows full 
 well that if we speak of her, it can only be in 
 reference to her beauty or her misfortunes : for 
 never by her conduct has she aflForded the slightest 
 scope for the exercise of scandalous tongues." 
 
 " How the world is deceived!" thought Charles 
 within himself : and then, as the whole conver- 
 sation which he had overheard betwixt Ginevra 
 and Silvio in the church rushed in unto his mind — 
 the entire details seeming to he condensed into a 
 single sentence that might be mentally scanned in 
 a moment — a sickening and even horrible idea 
 struck him ; so that he longed to put a certain 
 question— but he dared not, for fear lest it might 
 create a suspicion in the Baronet's mind. 
 
 " Is she not exceedingly beautiful P" asked Hoi- 
 croft. " I had just been paying my respects to 
 her for a moment before you rejoined me. You 
 see the Marquis of Ortona shows her every pos- 
 sible attention. There is the sympathy of the 
 liberal towards the young and unprotected wife of 
 his exiled friend !" 
 
 "Did you not tell me," inquired Charles, now 
 mustering all his composure to put the question 
 which a few instants back he was afraid to utter, 
 — " did you not tell me that the Count of Camerino 
 had a son " 
 
 "Yes — the Viscount Silvio," rejoined the Ba- 
 ronet. 
 
 Charles felt a cold shudder creep throughout his 
 entire frame. The mystery was cleared up — and 
 a hideous mystery it was ! It was the historical 
 romance of Parisina, so beautifully poetized by 
 Byron, enacted over again ; — the young wife had 
 been guilty with the youthful son of her own hus- 
 band ! A deep sense of loathing towards the cri- 
 minal Ginevra took possession of our hero ; and 
 be almost regretted that he should have become an 
 accomplice, though unconsciously at the time, in 
 anv circumstances connected with that foul domes- 
 tio drama. As he slowly paced round the room 
 with Holcroft, he caught sight of Ginevra at a 
 little distance; she was now standing amidst a 
 group of ladies, she herself the most beauteous of 
 them all I But Charles no lon:;er beheld her as 
 one that was beautiful i his looks recoiled from her 
 as if from a snake with a lovely skin. Holcroft was 
 rattling away in his usual style : but Charles heard 
 nut a syllable that he said,— until suddenly recol- 
 lecting that the deep abstraction of his manner 
 mi^ht arouse the astonishment of his companion 
 ^and then by an eifort be fell into the discourse. 
 The music speedily proclaimed the signal for re- 
 newed dancing; and the friends again temporarily 
 separatcii. 
 
 Charles was compelled to join in this next daoce: 
 but we doubt whether bis partner found hioi a 
 very agreeable companion — for his manner was ab- 
 stracted and he conversed but little. When the 
 quadrille was over, he glanced around to see if 
 Ginevra was still there : but she had retired in the 
 midst of that dance. 
 
 MThea the entertainment was over (and it was 
 kept up till past three in the morning) Charles 
 retired to his chamber, where it was some time be- 
 fore he could compose himself to slumber: for the 
 clearing-up of the mystery had filled his mind 
 with the most painful sensations. At length sleep 
 closed his eyes : but his dreams were agitated asd 
 troubled. 
 
 Precisely at the hour of noon, oor hero bent bit 
 way towards the church where he was to meet 
 Ginevra; and he lingered for a few minutes OQ 
 the steps of the portico, not knowing precisely 
 from which direction she might come. All of a 
 sudden, as he was looking up and down the street, 
 he felt a hand laid lightly on his arm : he turned 
 and beheld Ginevra. She had just issued from 
 the church ; and the idea struck our hero that 
 few stood in need of prayer more than herself! 
 
 " Follow me," she said : and hastening down 
 the steps, she glided along the street. 
 
 At length she turned into a narrower street, at 
 the extremity whereof there was a small square, 
 which not constituting a thoroughfare, was but 
 little frequented except by the inhabitants going 
 out or in their houses. It was now almost com. 
 pletely deserted, and was thus a convenient spot 
 for an interview of a private nature although ic 
 was in the broad daylight. Ginevra stopped ; and 
 she was almost immediately joined by our herj, 
 whose countenance was cold and severe. 
 
 "■ Allow me to repeat," began Ginevra, in a low 
 tremulous voice, with downcast eyes and blushing 
 countenance, " the sincere— the imperishable grati- 
 tude " 
 
 " Lady," interrupted Charles, " I need not sucu 
 assurances as these. Tell me, what is to be done 
 with that innocent babe whom I have consigned 
 to the care of poor but worthy people?" 
 
 "And the babe is well?" asked the Countess 
 eagerly, with all a mother's anxiety, notwithstand- 
 ing that the child was the offspring of shame and 
 crime. 
 
 '■ The babe is well, lady," rejoined De Vere : 
 " but ycu will recollect that I have incurred much 
 risk of being placed in a very false position ■** 
 
 " I know it — I know it !— my God, I know it !" 
 said Ginevra, weeping. " But something shall at 
 once be done to relieve you from this embarrass- 
 ment. If I did not communicate with you be. 
 
 fore, it was that my mind was so distracted 
 
 Indeed when I caught a glimpse of you kneeling 
 in the church the very day after that memorable 
 night, I was for a moment on the point of accost- 
 ing you — but I had not the courage— my heart 
 failed me— and you went away with the congrega- 
 
 Charles was on the very point of stating that it 
 was not so, but that he had lingered in the church 
 aod had seen her kneeling at the altar,- when she 
 suddenly said, " Tell me — was it, as 1 thought at 
 the time, mere accident which took you to that 
 church r or was i^ " 
 
 "It was mere accident," replied oar hero;
 
 ASKE9; OB, BE^UTT AKD PLEA317BB. 
 
 CHAPTER :x: 
 
 THE -n-AEDKOEE. 
 
 ^ and not until last evening did I know that you i 
 wore tb<- Countess of Camerino." 
 
 Obarles had been speaking coldly and severely ; i 
 And now Ginevra looked anxiously but search- 
 iTigly ur into his face, as if to ascertain whether he 
 
 ftad any suspicion of the full extent of her crime, I The sceue now changes to the lodgings o( Xioo 
 or whether he merely believed her to have been Corso in Graciosa Street. It was about ninCb 
 fr«il, without knowing who her paramour was. o'clock in the evening of the day of which w» 
 
 " You treat me coldly," she said, again bending ] have been writing. Nino had just returned home 
 down her looks, while the tears trickled slowly i from his work, and had sat down to supper, while 
 upon her cheeks ; " and it is no wonder ! You [ Benedetta fondled in her arms the child which had 
 must have learnt that my husband " — here she , been consigned to her keeping. Presently there 
 — " has been fur nearly a year \ was a tap at the door : Nino sprang from his seat 
 -Ob, sir ! do not overwhelm ■ to answer the summons, for he suspected who the 
 not, I ponjure you, demand a , visitor was ; and he introduced the tall middle* 
 my lips ! Tell , aged personage of whom we have previously 
 promise * 
 
 single syllable of explanat 
 me only where you have left my child 
 me to keep my secret as I feel convinced that you 
 have already maintained it — and let us sepa- 
 rate V 
 
 Charles De Vere had no inclination to rake as 
 it were amidst the feculence of this domestic 
 drama; neither did he wish to reveal himself in 
 the light of having played the eavesdropper 
 and learnt everything which had passed between 
 Ginevra and her guilty paramour Tiscount Silvio. 
 He therefore said, " Lady, I seek from your lips 
 no explanations. You can judge for yourself by 
 the reception your ladyship last night experienced 
 at the British Embassy, whether I have respected 
 your secret. I shall continue to respect it. Am 
 I to understand that with the least possible delay 
 I shall find myself relieved from all embarrass- 
 ment in reference to that babe ? It is now in the 
 charge of worthy persons, as I have already in- 
 formed you. The man's name is Nino Corso ; and 
 he is the driver of a public vehicle. His address 
 is No. 27, in the Via Graciosa. He and his wife 
 
 are anxious to keep the child " 
 
 " Heaven be thanked !" murmured Ginevra : 
 
 " to their care will I leave the poor innocent ! 
 
 This very day shall those worthy people receive an 
 
 intimation to the effect that they are no longer to 
 
 i look to you as one accountable for the maintenance 
 
 I of that babe." 
 
 I " It is enough, lady," said Charles : " I ask no 
 
 j more. I rely upon your word that this shall be 
 
 done — because under existing circumstances I 
 
 I shall not again visit Nino Corso's dwelling." 
 
 I "Before we separate," said the Countess of 
 
 Camerino, in a voice full of emotion, and with the 
 
 I tears streaming down her cheeks, " suffer me to 
 
 I renew the expressions of that heartfelt gratitude 
 
 i which never can be diminished ! Your conduct 
 
 . has been noble and magnanimous throughout ; — 
 
 and not the least generous portion of it is your 
 
 I present abstention from demanding explanations 
 
 I at my lips. May heaven bless you!" 
 
 Ginevra proffered her hand. She was weeping 
 j —her bosom was convulsed with her emotions- 
 it was a spectacle which melted the generous 
 I heart of the youth, who moreover remembered at 
 the instant how bitter was the remorse which the 
 unhappy Countess had displayed on the two occa- 
 sions he had seen her in the church. He there- 
 fore accepted her hand ; and exclaiming, " May 
 God give you strength to continue henceforth in 
 the right path!" be hurried away. 
 
 '• We are all alone, my lord," said Nino, bowing 
 with the deepest respect. " Pray walk in." 
 
 The nobleman — for such appeared to be his 
 rank, notwithstanding the assurance which Corso 
 had given Charles that he was a merchant who 
 had failed — was enveloped in his capacious mantle, 
 which he no doubt wore to conceal his counte- 
 nance in case any stranger should ascend the stairs 
 at the moment when he traversed the landing. He 
 entered the room and sat down. 
 
 " We have not seen your lordship all day till 
 now," said Benedetta. 
 
 " I have been engaged in writing many letters," 
 replied the nobleman, " which Corso must hava 
 the goodness to deliver carefully to-morrow." 
 
 Benedetta looked distressed : Corso made her a 
 significant gesture as if to bid her avoid displaying 
 any such emotion in the presence of their distin- 
 guished guest. But the keen eye of the nobleman 
 caught both the afflicted look and the signal that 
 was meant to repress it ; and he hastened to ex- 
 claim, " Fear not, Benedetta, that your husband 
 shall be compromised on my account. Not foE 
 worlds would I bring trouble down upon the heads- 
 of yourselves or your family ! Nino will exercise 
 the utmost circumspection in delivering the 
 letters ; and as they all are addressed to discreet 
 and trustworthy persons, there is no danger to be 
 apprehended. It is absolutely necessary that I 
 should at length communicate with my frienda. 
 Here have I been ten whole days in Naples, hesi- 
 tating and deliberating — undecided what steps to 
 take— playing indeed a child's part— having had 
 the courage to come hither, and then feeling as if 
 my energies were suddenly paralysed ! Corso is a 
 worthy patriot " 
 
 " Ob, my lord !" exclaimed Benedetta, " yoa 
 know I am agreeable that my husband should do 
 anything for you : but ever since he ran such a. 
 fearful risk of being arrested, and perhaps sent to 
 the gibbet " — here the woman shuddered visibly — 
 " at the beginning of the year, when the con-* 
 spiracy exploded, he has sworn to me that he will 
 henceforth consider his poor litile children as 
 having paramount claims upon him," 
 
 " Eest assured, Benedetta," answered the nobl»- 
 man, " that Corso will now incur no risk of any 
 kind. I have already pledged myself to you bo«l» 
 that I am not now in Naples for the purpose o( 
 organizing any fresh attempt against the Govern- 
 ment. 1 know that it would not succeed : I knovt 
 the king, backed by thousands of a cut-throat sol- 
 diery, is for the time all powerful. But io respeci
 
 AGXES ; OB, BBAUTT A!CD FLEA^S(7BE. 
 
 to the affai-s -jf R rnic it is Titally important that 
 the leaders ut Italian patriotism should be ia pos- 
 session of cer;aio imp irtant facts whit-h have come 
 to m; kooicledge in Paris. For this reason I am 
 now here ; and when my mission is accomplished 
 in Naples, I shall proceed stealthily to Borne 
 itseif. Now, Benedetia, are you reassured P" 
 
 " Perfectly so, riJy lord," answered Corso's wife, 
 her countenance brightening up. 
 
 " Tbaoks to your arrBagemeats and attentions, 
 my good friends," continued the nobleman, " my 
 presence in Naples is evidently unsuspected by 
 the police-authorities. And you are convinced — 
 are you not ? that the porter of this bouse is com- 
 pletely trustworthy ?" 
 
 " I would stake my existence on it, my lord," 
 replied Nino Corso. " Ho belonged to the same 
 section of the secret society cs 1 myself did last 
 
 " 'Tii enough!" said the nobleman : " he is eri. 
 dently trustworthy. And that young Englishman 
 who surprised mo here the other day " 
 
 " He has honesty written upon his counte- 
 nance," exclaimed Benedetta. "1 told your lord- 
 ship who he was " 
 
 " And I am convinced be is a good and 
 generous-hearted young man," chimed in Nino 
 Corso. " Besides, he suspects nothing : for 1 
 aesured him that your lordship was a merchant 
 who had experienced misfortunes— and he 
 pressed the utmost sympathy." 
 
 " And think you, my friends, that in a suitable 
 disguise," continued the nobleman,—" say for in- 
 stance in that of a priest — I might venture to 
 travel through the Neapolitan kingjom into the 
 Soman States ?" 
 
 " Assuredly, my lord," answered Corso, '' pro- 
 vided you adopt the various precautions of which 
 we were speaking a day or two ago. X-ju your- 
 self can scarcely Snow even when you look in the 
 mirror, how dilTerent your countenance appears 
 with the whiskers, beard, and moustache shaven 
 off; and if you cut your hair close— wear the green 
 spectacles— and assume the garb of a priest, you 
 might pass through a crowd of even your most in- 
 timate friends without standing the least chance of 
 being recognised," 
 
 " 'Tis well," again said the nobleman : '• for 
 though in the cause of patriotism I would dare 
 any risk, yet there are considerations " 
 
 " Yes, my lord," said Benedetta, " there are 
 indeed considerations wherefore you should study 
 your safety :"— then after a little hesitation, she 
 inquired, " Does not jour lordship purpose to 
 suffer her ladyship to know that you are in 
 Naples?" 
 
 "No — assuredly not!" rejoined the nobleman. 
 " There are a thousand reasons against such a 
 course. In the first place, my wife loves me sin- 
 oerely- and she would not rest until she flew 
 Lither to embrace me Who can tell how her 
 movements may be watched by the spies of the 
 p ilice f And if I were to suffer her to know that I 
 am uere, but were to forbid her to come to throw 
 lierseli into my arms, she would be distressed and 
 ticiiea — she might inadvertently betray her feel- 
 ings—in short, it would be most dangerous to per- 
 mit her to come hither, and a needless cruelty to 
 acquaint her witli my presence in iiaples and at 
 the game time prohibit her from comiog." { 
 
 " True, my lord," said Benedetta. " And yet 
 it does seem singular that one should be in Che 
 same city as one's own wife " 
 
 The nobleman's lip quivered with emotion for 
 an instant; and then he said, "Wife, home, and 
 everything must be sacriBced to ona'a love of 
 
 " Where is your lordship's son at present ?" in- 
 quired Benedetia hastily : for she waa afraid that 
 this last speech on the part of the nobleman 
 might produce its effect upon her husband Nino, 
 who until within the last. eleven or twelve monlhi 
 was wont to be deep in all Neapolitan conspira- 
 
 " On the memorable night of the 5th of January, 
 when everything was betrayed to the Government 
 by some treacherous spy," answered the nobleman, 
 "and when a hasty warniug was convey<-d to me 
 
 I my ( 
 
 different disguises as well as in different directtona. 
 To be brief, I went to Paris, and be into Austria. 
 As you may suppose, our correspondence has not 
 since then been very frequent ; for the unsettled 
 state of the Continent has absorbed the time of 
 active men and left them little leisure to write 
 mere letters of friendship or of love. But when 
 last I heard from my son, he was ia Vienna, dwell- 
 ing in quietude and obscurity," 
 
 "Hark !" said Nino Corso : "metbinks Iheaid 
 a footstep upon the stair !" 
 
 The nobleman instantaneously rose from bis 
 seat; and catching up his cloak, he strode across 
 the room towards a high piece of furniture — a 
 sort of bureau or wardrobe, which opened with 
 folding-doors, and which was krge enough to en- 
 able him to stand upright within. But there was 
 no necessity for bis lordship to avail himself of it 
 on the present occasion ; for it was a false alarm 
 on N.no's part. 
 
 "lam nevertheless glad," observed Benedetta, 
 as the nobleman resumed his seat, " that Nine 
 bought that piece of furniture two or three days 
 ago for the special purpose for which it is de- 
 signed: because after the way in which the young 
 Englishman entered the room so abruptly a week 
 
 back, it was really dangerous " 
 
 '• Hush ; ■ said Corso ; " now indeed there is a 
 footstep 1" 
 
 Almost in the twinkling of an eye the nobleman 
 passed into the wardrobe, and closed the doot 
 behind him. Ail was then silent in the room for 
 a few moments, until it was broken by a gentle 
 tap at the door of the apartment itself. Nino 
 rose to open it ; and a female figure, enveloped in 
 iin ample cloak, and closely veiled, appeared out- 
 side upon the landing. 
 
 Is this the abode," she inquired, in a low and 
 scarcely audible voice, " of Nino Corso, the driver 
 of a public vehicle f" 
 
 " It b, Signora," was the man's response ; " and 
 I am Nino Corso." , 
 
 The veiled female at once entered ; and on be- 
 holding the child in B-.nedetta's lap, every other 
 feeling and consideration became absorbed in the 
 fondness of a mother; so that snatching up the 
 infant she pressed it to her bosom, all cloaked and 
 veiled as she still remained. Nino Corso had 
 closed the door; and he and his wife looked on 
 with melting hearts, for they comprehended that . 
 this must be the mother of the obild— tbougli I
 
 A.GNES; OK, BEAUTY AND PLEASUEE. 
 
 very far were they from suspecting who the lady 
 herself was. Indeed we may observe that the 
 worthy couple had oever to their knowledge seen 
 the Countess of Camerino. 
 
 The child, awakened from its slumbers, began to 
 cry ; and Ginevra gave the infant back to Bene- 
 detta'a arms. She then sank upoa a seat, over* 
 powered by her feelings ; and for some minutes 
 she wept and sobbed as if her heart must break. 
 At length she faltered forth, " I need scarcely tell 
 you, my friends, that I hold towards that poor babe 
 the same position which yoit" — now specially ad- 
 dressing herself to Beoedetta—" doubtless hold 
 towards those sleeping children in that bed. I am 
 the babe's mother." 
 
 There was a silence of nearly a minute ; and 
 then Ginevra went on to say, " But I have not 
 come to take the child from you. On the con- 
 trary, if you will consent to keep it, as I have 
 been led to believe you will " 
 
 "Oh, yes, Signora !" exclaimed Benedetta : 
 " we will assuredly keep the child— for we already 
 love it dearly. And our own little ones love 
 
 "Then you shall keep the innocent, my good 
 friends," answered Ginevra; "and you shall 
 bring it up as one of your own. It were useless 
 to attempt to deceive you; all circumstances must 
 from the very first have made you aware that the 
 babe, though very dearly loved by me, its mother, 
 constitutes its mother's shame 1" 
 
 "We ask no questions. Signora— and we seek 
 no explanations," replied Benedetta. " It is suf. 
 ficient for ua that you decide upon leaving the 
 child in our keeping; and by the holy Virgin! 
 we pledge ourselves to rear the innucent with as 
 much fondness as if it were our own." 
 
 "I am sure you will," answered Ginevra, in a 
 voice that was scarcely articulate through the 
 strong emotions that swayed her. "He who con- 
 fided the babe to your keeping, spoke in the 
 highest terms of you both. But him you will see 
 no more ; and therefore have I come to make such 
 arrangemeots as shall be satisfactory to you 
 Here is a sum of money; and every six months a 
 similar sum shall be transmitted to you. A pro- 
 vision shall likewise be made by sume means or 
 another, for the continued payment of such a sum, 
 even though death shull snatch me away. On 
 this bead be not uneasy ! Nut for worlds," added 
 Ginevra emphatically, " would I completely aban- 
 don my puor child for heaven knows that 
 
 even as it is the abandonment is only too great !" 
 
 She again wept bitterly : but all this time she 
 kept her veil so closely drawn and so thickly folded 
 over her countenance, that neither Nino nor Bene- 
 detta could obtain the slightest glimpse of her 
 features. Presently she rose to depart ; and again 
 taking the child in her arms, and turning her back 
 upon the worthy couple, she just sutHciently 
 raised the veil to enable her to imprint numerous 
 kisses on the infant's cheeks. Then, with that 
 veil carefully replaced, she restored the child to 
 Benedetta,— to whom in a broken voice she wbis 
 pered some few parting instructions; and she 
 hurriedly issued from the room. We may add 
 that the sum which she had left behind her, w&s a 
 veryiiberal one; and thus the worthy couple had 
 every reason to be gratified with the result of 
 tho visit. 
 
 The door of the bureau now opened, and the 
 nobleman came forth: but he was pale as death, 
 and he staggered as if intoxicated or about to sink 
 down in a swoon, 
 
 "Blessed Virgin! my lord, you are ill!" ex- 
 claimed Corso, springing forward to sustain th» 
 nobleman. " Indeed the heat must have bcQH 
 suffocating in that place!" 
 
 "Enough to stifle his lordship!" added Bene- 
 detta. "And to think that his lordship should 
 have been pent up there for a whole half-liour!" 
 
 "It is nothing, my friends — nothing," gasped 
 the nobleman : " I shall be better in a few minutes 
 1 am already better now 1 will seek my 
 
 " Stop, my lord, for an instant," exclaimed 
 Corso, " till I'see that the coast is clear." 
 
 But the nobleman did not hear him, or at alt 
 events did not heed him; for witu his cloak upon 
 his arm, he strode, or rather reeled across the land- 
 ing — entered his own chamber— and drew the door 
 behind him. Fortunately, however, there was no 
 one near to observe this incautious removal from 
 one room to the other: and Corso returned to his 
 own chamber, saying to Benedetta, " If the lady- 
 had stayed but a few minutes longer. I am cer- 
 tain his lordship would have been suffocated." 
 
 Four-and'-twenty hours passed; and it was in 
 the evening of the Jay following the incidents 
 which we have just related, that a tall man, enve- 
 loped in a cloak, entered the gateway of the house 
 No. 27 in the Via Graciosa ; and after exchanging 
 a few words with the porter, rapidly ascended the 
 staircase. On re.iching the uppermost land,ing, he 
 knocked in a peculiar manner at tlio door of the 
 room occupied by the nobleman. The nobleman 
 himself appeared upon the threshold; and the visi- 
 tor entered. Dropping his cloak, he revealed the 
 countenance of General the Marquis Oi-toua. 
 
 The two political friends embraced ; and whea 
 they sat down, the Marquis of Ortona was shocked 
 to behold how haggard, how careworn, and how 
 woe-begone was the other's countenance. 
 
 " Goud heaven, my dear Count! you have been 
 very, very ill ?" exclaimed the Marquis, with a 
 look and tone of the deepest conceroo 
 
 "No — I have not been ill, my dear friend— but 
 of course much vexed, and agitated, and ex- 
 cited " 
 
 "Bjubtiess!" said the Marquis. "But do you 
 think it pru-^ent to run this risk '* 
 
 " Nut prudent, but imperative," rejoined the 
 Count. " The aCfaira of Rome demand all the care 
 and anxiety of Italian patriots; for it is now- 
 through the Roman republicans only that Italy can 
 hope to obtain her freedom. But of that anon. 
 Tell me, my dear Marquis — how — how — fares it 
 with— with — -Ginevra ?" 
 
 " Her ladyship is well," replied the Marquis, 
 " though she has suffered much of late. Indeed, 
 for a time she altogether secluded herself " 
 
 "Ah! she secluded herself ?"— and the Count 
 spoke as if the words were hot cinders sticking in 
 his throat one by one as they came up, and parch- 
 ing his tongue as they passed over it. 
 
 "Yes — but can you wonder ? However," eja- 
 culated the Marquis, "the Countess is now better; 
 and the night before last she was at a grand ball 
 at the British Ambassador's mansion." 
 
 "Ah! at the British Ambassador's
 
 AGKES; OR, BEArTT 
 
 PLEA8CBB. 
 
 said the Count. " By Ihe «oy, give me the names, 
 if you can, of the Rttacbes »nd sccr tarics of that 
 Ambusaador f I want them for certain political 
 
 " There is Mr. Wioton," replied the Marquis of 
 Ortona, speaking slowly as he successively recalled 
 the names to his memory : " there is Sir Alex- 
 ander Holcroft— there is Mr. Egerton— and there 
 is Mr. De Vere." 
 
 '■ Enough !" said the Count : and then, with a 
 strange abruptness he observed, " And so Ginevra 
 secluded herself for awhile ?'* 
 
 "Yes— but you need no longer be anxious on 
 her account," replied the Marquis ; " for I tell jou 
 that " 
 
 "Nevertheless," interrupted the nobleman, 
 " every tiling which relates to her " 
 
 " Is of course interesting," added the Marquis ; 
 " and since I see by the letter you sent me to-day, 
 that your presence is to remain altogether a secret 
 from the Counless, you wish to learn how she has 
 borne this long separation?" 
 
 "Precisely so," gasped the Count of Camerino : 
 ■for the reader must have by this time discovered 
 who the nobleman was. 
 
 "At first," resumed the Marquis of Ortona, 
 "your amiable Countess bore up well and cou- 
 rageously against the calamity which separated you 
 from her: but after awhile— it was perhaps three 
 or four months back— she could not endure the 
 gloomy solitude of her palatial home, and she ac- 
 cordingly went to reside with her uncle and 
 
 j "Signer and Signora Visso," interjected the 
 
 Count, with a degree of bitterness which at once 
 
 I struck the Marquis, who nevertheless put his own 
 
 I construction upon the incident. 
 
 ! " .Do not be angry with the Countess, my dear 
 
 f dead," said Ortona. " It is true that her uncle 
 
 j and aunt are comDaratively poor and obscure : but 
 
 it is not for you who entertain such liberal puli- 
 
 i tieal sentiments, to despise your wife's family be- 
 
 j ovuse it is a plebeian oae. From all I have heard, 
 
 ■Signer Visso her uncle is a respectable medical 
 
 practitioner " 
 
 " ATell, well," interjected the Count, "I ought 
 
 •not to be angry. At the same time I cannot for- 
 
 I gtt that when struck by the beauty of Ginevra, I 
 
 1 offered her my hand, it was thoroughly understood 
 
 I Ssetween us " 
 
 i " I know all that you are going to say !" ei- 
 I <^1aimed the Marquis. "You espoused her on the 
 i -condition that she would break off all interc.iurse 
 I with her relations ? And she doubtless pmmised 
 I yoo. Bat she did net foresea tbat you would so 
 •eoon be compelled So ily from the country, and 
 that she should be left elone iu that large man- 
 sion, with no one tat her dcmest-ss to speak to. 
 Beally, my dear Count, you must be reasonable- 
 cad you must admit that if the Countess went to 
 -'>joul-[i a few weeks at the dwcUiog of her rela- 
 
 deed 
 
 «as natural- 
 
 " Yes, yes— I will be reasonable," said C«- 
 morino : and then he curtly added, " Let us there- 
 fore drop the subject. Have you any news ?** 
 
 *• i have something to tell you, my dear friend," 
 responded the Marquis, " which may both surprise 
 :viii) afford you pleasure. Your son the Viscount 
 •4 in Naples." 
 
 ■^Indeed!" ejicuiated Camorino. "This is in. 
 
 i and a pleasure ! But yet the 
 danger which he runs " 
 
 " Rest assured that he is taking proper precau- 
 tions," said the Marquis. ' 
 
 " And how long has he been in TTaples i" in- 
 quired the Count. 
 
 " I only met him last evening," rejoined the 
 Marquis; "and be told me tbat he had arrived 
 but a few hours back. He was coming to seek me 
 at my own house. He said that he was uneasy 
 at not having recently heard from you— and he 
 thought that if any oue could afford him any in- 
 teliigence concerning you, it would be I as your 
 most intimate friend— for he dared not present 
 himself at the mansion nor seek the Countess ** 
 
 " Do you know where he is to be found P" de- 
 manded Camerino abruptly. 
 
 " Yes— he gave me his address. He is liriog 
 at a secluded villa in the suburb." 
 
 " Hasten, then, my dear friend," said the Count, 
 " and bid him come to me. I long to behold him 
 — to embrace him ! But go, Ortona! and let him 
 come to me at once ! As for the intelligence 
 which I have to impart in respect to Ejman af- 
 fairs, I will communinate it to-morrow evening, 
 when you must return to me." 
 
 The Marquis of Ortona resumed his capacious 
 mantle, and bade his friend a temporary farewell. 
 He then took his departure ; and entering the 
 hackney-carriage which bad brought him thither, 
 he proceeded without delay to the suburban villa 
 where the Viscount Silvio was lodging. Toe guilty 
 Silvio was at first seized with a species of conster- 
 nation on learning that his father was in Naples j 
 but 4^e quickly gathered sufhcient from the dis- 
 course of the Marquis to reassure him. 
 
 " Your father is here for political purposes — b* 
 does not mean to see his wife — he is satisfied with 
 the affectionate inquiries he has made concerning 
 her and the assurances I have given him. But 
 he is anxious to embrace you. Doubtless he feels 
 that 6he momentous secret of his presence in 
 Naples may be better entrusted to a young man 
 who has gathered caution from past experience, 
 than to a young lady whose agitated and excited 
 feelings would almost immediately betray them- 
 selves." 
 
 Silvio, completely reassured by what he thus 
 heard, muffled himself in his cloak, and set off 
 without delay to the Via Graciosa. On arriving 
 at the house, he whispered a certain password 
 (with which the Marquis bad supplied him) to the 
 old porter at the entrance; and he then ascended 
 the stairs to the uppermost landing. Then in a 
 few moments Silvio was clasped in the arms of the 
 father whom he had ao cruelly outraged, but who 
 was unconscious that he had been thus foully 
 wronged by his own well-beloved son. 
 
 " Silvio 1 dearest Silvio I" murmured the Count, 
 who, notwithstanding the self-sacrifices he made 
 in his devoted patriotism, was really a man of 
 strung domestic affections. 
 
 " Father ! dearest father !" exclaimed the Vi»- 
 count, now experiencing all the horrors and tor- 
 tures of remorse as he was clasped in the arms ol 
 his outraged but unsuspecting sire. 
 
 "Sit down, Silvio— sit down, my son," said the 
 Count ; " I have things of importance——" 
 
 " Good heavens, fathej- •" cried the Viaconnt, 
 " how ill you look !"
 
 " III, Silvio ?" said the nobleman, his voice now 
 suddenly becoming bitter in its accents: "yes- 
 doubtless I look ill. Yesterday I was quite well 
 — my countenance was not haggard, nor care- 
 worn, nor woe-begone : but last evening " 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! my dear father, what has hap- 
 pened ?" eiclaimed Silvio : " what dangers— or 
 perils " 
 
 " No dangers nor perils, Silvio," responded the 
 
 Count of Camerino; "but Oh! how can I tell 
 
 you, Silvio ? how can I proclaim the infamy ?" 
 cried the unhappy nobleman, starting up from the 
 ohair which be had taken. 
 
 A terrible uneasiness now possessed the young 
 Viscount : for though he saw that he himself was 
 not suspected, yet he knew not what clue bis 
 father might have obtained to Ginevra's guilt, nor 
 
 how the follow 
 
 Dg-ap 
 
 'bt lead 
 
 The youthful nobleman said notliiug ; but he 
 gazed with consternation upon his sire:— for to 
 what other subject could the Count be possibly 
 alluding, if not to that which was uppermost in 
 the criminal Silvio's thoughts? 
 
 " My dear son," continued the Count, his fea- 
 tures expressing the mingled shame, loathing, and 
 rage with which he drew nearer and nearer to- 
 wards the dreadful topic,— "your father has been 
 dishonoured! Yes, I— your parent— have sus- 
 tained an irreparable injury " 
 
 Some ejaculation wavered upon the young Via- 
 count's lips : but the 'father heard it not ; and he 
 went on to say, "Yes, Silvio— the injury I have 
 sustained is signal and immense— and blood only 
 can wash away the stain I In a word, my wife — 
 (jinevra — whom I loved — whom I raised from a 
 humble position to be the partner of my rank and 
 fortune GKnevra has dishonoured me !" added
 
 25) 
 
 the Count in a hoarso voice, and his lips quivered 
 aa be strove to keep back the sob that was in- 
 wardly convulsing him. 
 
 All of a sadden a remarkable degree of cool- 
 nosj and self-possession succeeded the terror and 
 consternatioQ which but a uiomrnt back bad 
 jaraljsed tUo energies of Silvio. He saw that be 
 ^. :is standing upon the edge of a precipice, and 
 tbat if he meant to save himself lie must be 
 armed with all possible calmness, fortitude, and j 
 wariness. Thus while now maintaining a perfect ! 
 command over his features, he throw into them an I 
 expression of indignation and astonishment ; and 
 in a kindred tone be ejaculated, " Is this true, I 
 father?— have you the proofs P bave you acquired 
 the certainty' '* 
 
 "There is no possibility of doubt, Silvio!" in- 
 terrupted the Count. " Oh ! it is a shocking 
 thing for a husband to have to speak of the sbatno 
 of bis wife '. Yet it must be I— and I roust 
 triumph over this weakness, for energy is now re- 
 quired at my hands ! I tell you, Silvia, that she 
 who bears the name of the Countess of Camerino 
 has dishonoured that name ! I'rom her own lips 
 did I ere now " 
 
 " Ah ! then you have seen her r" quickly ejacu- 
 lated Silvio, for an instant thrown off his guard : 
 but the neit moment regaining his self-possession, 
 he added, " I thought I understood differently 
 from the Marquis of Ortona ?" 
 
 " I was in the opposite room," responded the 
 Count, — "it is tenanted by faithful friends— a 
 footstep was beard approaching— and I hid myself. 
 Ah! little thought I who was about to enter! 
 It was Ginevral Yes, Silvio — the proof of her 
 shame is there— the child that she has borne- " 
 
 "The child?" echoed Silvio, unabb to repress a 
 siindder ; for be felt aa if the ground were slip- 
 ping away from hie feet on the edge of the preci- 
 pice where he was standing. 
 
 " Yes, the child," continued the Count of Came- 
 rino, with ghastly face, corrugating brows, and 
 clenching hands,— "the child noich she has borne 
 to her paramour— a young Kn^iUUsian " 
 
 "Ah! an Englishman?" ejaculated Silvio. "But 
 who is he, father ?" 
 
 " Yes — the child is there i" continued the 
 Count, pursuing the Strain of his own dreadful 
 thoughts ; *•' the evidence of her guilt — the proof 
 of her frailty !— and I who for the last ten or 
 twelve days have constantly seen the babe — have 
 even fondled it ! O God ! it is enough to drive 
 one mad!" , 
 
 " And her child is there ?" said Silvio : " and she | 
 came to see it ? and you heard her speak, father p" 
 
 "Yes," answered the Count, in a gloomy 
 sombre tone : " 1 heard her speak— I beard her 
 confess her shame— I heard her make arrange- | 
 ments with those people for the care of her child ! 
 Ob, bow was it that I restrained myself from | 
 rushing forth from my hiding-place, stretching the | 
 vile woman dead at my feet, and throttling the i 
 child as one would strangle a loathsome reptile p t 
 All th» "lightnings of heaven appeared to be cir- 
 culating in my veins and yet I exercised somd 
 
 power over myself " ; 
 
 " Alas, my poor father ! all this is Tery, very j 
 shocking !" said Silvio, affecting a tone of the 1 
 deepest sympathy. " But what would you have j 
 me dor 
 
 " Ah ! that question reminds me of what my 
 duty is— of what my vengeance must be — ai;d 
 how I must be firm and self-possessed tbroughoui 
 this terrible ordeal I Go, my son, under the cover 
 of the darkness of this evening to the British 
 Embassy— inquire fir the junior attach^ Charles 
 De Vere— entice bim hither on some pretext — tell 
 him that you are a messenger from Ginevra — tell 
 him anything you think lit ! — but go and bring 
 bim hither, that I may immolate bim to my 
 vengeance! Do this- and afterwards I will tell 
 you how the guilty Ginevra ahstl be dealt 
 
 " I go, father !" responded the youog Viscount ! 
 and enveloping himself in his cloak, be was moving 
 towards the door, when as if bethinking himself 
 of something, he turned and said, " Perhaps I may 
 not find hitu at the Embassy this evening ? per- 
 haps I may have to wait until the morrow ?— and 
 you know, my dear father, that it is dangerous 
 for me to walk about in the daylight " 
 
 " True, my dear son !" exclaimed the Count > 
 "by all means use every possible precaution I If 
 you return not again tu-uight, I shall understand 
 that you have failed to fall in with the guilty De 
 
 Vere. Then let it be for to-morrow night 
 
 though vengeance is terribly impatient " 
 
 " Yet must you restrain this impatience some- 
 what, father," rejoined Silvio; "for the safety of 
 both of us requires it I Leave everything tome 
 —and if you see me not again to-night, reet 
 assured tlmt to-morrow evening 1 shall be here 
 and that your vengeance shall be gratified !" 
 
 Kttving thus spoken, the Viscount Silvio Came- 
 rino quitted the house, closely muffled in bis 
 mantle, and entering the hackney coach which had 
 brought him thither, he returned to bis own lodg- 
 ings in a state of mind that can perhaps bo better 
 conceived than described. 
 
 CHAPIER SLIir. 
 
 TIIB EtJISS OB SAINT HICHOLAS. 
 
 The reader will remember the scene at the con. 
 fessionul which occurred about ten days previous 
 to the date of which we are now writing. On 
 that occasion Silvio wos stricken with dismay on 
 learning that Ginevra intended to confide her 
 fault to Father Falconara : but finding tbat she 
 was resolutely bent on executing her purpose, he 
 could not refuse to proceed to the vestiary and 
 deliver to that priest the message with which she 
 had charged him. But on entering the vesliary. 
 he found no one there. Then it was tbat a 
 sudden idea struck him. Hastily assuming a 
 cowl which was hanging to a peg in the vestiary, 
 he muffled himself in that Doiuinicsn garb, and he 
 proceeded to the confessional. He had now 
 several objects ia view. He wished to ascertain 
 where the child bad been placed ; for ho dreaded 
 lest the instinct of maternal fondness should lead 
 Ginevra into indiscretions and imprudences with 
 regard to that infant, which would tend to the 
 betrayal of the terrible secret and bring about a 
 complete exposure. It was therefore his purpose 
 to make away with that child, and thus destroy 
 the proof of Oinevra's frailty. He was also
 
 AGHTES : on, BKiTJir 
 
 FLEA9UBB. 
 
 L>51 
 
 OQziouB to discover Ginevra's pieciso frame of 
 miod iu respect to ber crime ; for bo had fancied 
 that she might have possibly coucoiiled much of 
 her real feelings from bis knowledge since she bad 
 learnt to look upon him with doubt and suspicion. 
 For Silvio dreaded lest Ginevra should in her de- 
 spair, or else with the idea of making an atone- 
 ment for her sin, conft-ss everything to her injured 
 husband in a peniteatially written letter, and then 
 retire altogether from the world into tho seclusion 
 of a convent. Silvio likewise adopted that stra- 
 tagem in reference to the confessional in order to 
 prevent the fearful secret from being revealed to 
 Father Falconaro, lest the boly priest should enjoin 
 the avowal ot tho crime to tho outraged Count as 
 the means of disburdening the wretched young 
 lady's conscience. 
 
 With all these aims in view, Silvia had sought 
 the confessional ; and with his countenance cum. 
 plctely concealed by tho muffling hood of the Dd- 
 minicau dress, he had listened to Ginevra's peni- 
 tential outpourings. She confessed the full extent 
 of her iniquity, reproaching herself however far 
 more than she reproached her guilty paramour : 
 but she did not state where nor how tho child had 
 been disposed of. In a low feigned voice— for 
 Silvio was acquainted with Father Falconara and 
 could imitate his voice— be questioned her; but as 
 she became overwhelmed with grief, she heard him 
 not— and be subsequently feared to repeat or press 
 that question lest ber suspicions should be excited. 
 It then only became necessary for him to speak in 
 monosyllobles in answer to certain questions which 
 she herself put. Should she c-anfess everything to 
 ber outraged husband ? No. Would there be 
 safety for her soul's welfare if slio maintained the 
 secret and welcomed him on his return (wlienever 
 this might happen) as if she had never proved 
 faithless to her marriage vows ? Yes. Should 
 she retire to a convent on same pretest ? No. 
 Might she espect absolution ? Yes. Was she to 
 attend the confessional often, and repeat the tale 
 of her iniquity as a moans of self-punishment ? 
 No. Was she thenceforth to remain altogether 
 
 I silent upon the subject p Yes. Might she ap- 
 proach the holy altiir with a sense of absolution 
 from her sins ? Yes. jS'umorous other questions 
 did she put, and to all of them did Silvio give the 
 answers which suited his own purpose. He left 
 her weeping and praying ; and returning to the 
 vestiary, he laid aside the cowl which had so 
 materially aided his purposes. He went forth 
 
 . .from tho church, considerably relieved. He felt 
 convinced that the tremendous secret was now 
 altogether safe, and that Ginevra would study her 
 utmost to maintain it. There was only one point 
 in which he had failed of success; and this was to 
 discover to whose hands the iufaiit had been con- 
 signed. Persevering as well us utterly unprin- 
 cipled, be was resolved, if possible, to fathom this 
 mystery j and it was for that purpose he had re- 
 mained in Naples instead of fultilling bis pledge to 
 Ginevra and returning at once to Vienna. Her 
 uncle and aunt. Signer and Signora .Yisso, were 
 the mercenary creatures whom his gold had bought 
 over entirely to liis own interests : he kept back no 
 Bcerets from their knowledge— and he desired them 
 tu do their best to discover where the child was. 
 Tneo, after the lapse of a few days, ho was anxious 
 to ietra •omo tidiogt io respect to bis father — and 
 
 ! bo conceived that the Marquis of Ortona could 
 aSford him this intelligence : for he dreaded lest the 
 Count of Camerino should take it into his head to 
 come secretly to Naples before Ginevra's mind had 
 sutltcieutly recovered from its recent shocks to be 
 enabled to pass through the ordeal of a meeting 
 without betraying herself to her husband. Silvio 
 had therefore sought the Marquis of Ortona, aud 
 bad falsely assured him that ho had only been a 
 few hours in Naples. 
 
 All the explanations which wo have just given 
 wero necessary to fill up certain gaps iu our narra- 
 tive. We may now resume the thread of our 
 story. 
 
 Silvio, after leaving his outraged hut unsuspeot- 
 ing father, returned to his own lodgings to reilect 
 upon the course which must now bo pursued. Not 
 for a moment could be thin!^ of fuUilling his sire's 
 instructions and enticing Charles Da Vere to tho 
 bouse in tho Via Graciosa ; for bo saw only too 
 plainly that the first word of iiocusation levelled 
 against our hero would elicit assurances completely 
 exculpating him. Indeed Silvio knew, from cer- 
 tain inquiries which Signora Visso had made, thjit 
 Charles De Tere bad barely been a month iu 
 Naples, and that therefore the supposed intrigue 
 with Ginevra could be unmistakably refuted. But 
 what was to bo done ? Silvio, as wo have already 
 said, saw that ho was standing upon the verge of a 
 precipice, down which the least touch or the slight- 
 est false step would plunge him. In a pecuniary 
 sense be was entirely dependent upon his father s 
 there was no entail in respect to the family estates 
 — no law of primogeniture to render them Silvio's 
 ina ienable heritage. If, therefore, bis crime were 
 discovered, he would be for ever discarded by his 
 outraged sire — ho would become a beggar and a 
 wanderer on the face of the earth ! The yjang 
 Viscount's position was thus frightfully perilous, 
 and he saw the necessity of plunging still more 
 deeply into crime, in order toeavo himself from do- 
 tection and exposure in roferenco to the misdeeds 
 already committed. Before he sought bis couch 
 that night he bad settled certain plans in bis mind ; 
 and these, as the reader may imagine, were of the 
 blackest iniquity. 
 
 In the forenoon of the following day, Silvio, 
 closely muffled in his mantle, proceeded to the 
 church which Ginevra was iu the habit of fre- 
 quenting and where ho hoped now to find hor. 
 She was there, kni'oling in the aidst of tho 6oa- 
 gregation. Ho waited until the ceremony had 
 concluded, — remaining tho while concealed from 
 her view; and then, as she was about to issue 
 forth, he accostiid her. 
 
 "One word, Ginevra!" ho said: "it is of 
 paramount importance that I should speak to 
 you !" 
 
 Siie accompanied him into the seclusion of oae 
 of the aisles ; and in a low but reproachful tone, 
 the young Countess said, " Is this the way that you 
 keep your promise, Silvio ? Ten days back did you 
 pledge yourself that withiu tho hour that was tficn 
 passing lou would quit Naples ind seii out for 
 Vienna !" 
 
 " And I should have kept that pledge," replied 
 Silvio; "but I was seized with illaoes— I have 
 been confiued to my bed. Look how pate and 
 altered I am !" 
 
 Ibis, was indeed true; for the Viscount had
 
 362 
 
 B, BBATJTT AKD PLBA8UBB. 
 
 pftssed a night of mental anguish and of distract- 
 itg emotions which gave him the appearance of 
 one who had just risen from a bed of sickness. As 
 Ginevra gazed upon his countenance, her own fea- 
 tures expressed a look of sympathy, which was 
 even deepening into tenderness, when suddenly 
 eierciaing a powerful effort over herself, she said 
 coldly, " And now, Silvio, why do you seek me ? — 
 what matter of importance have you to communi- 
 cate ?" 
 
 " Prepare yourself, Ginevra, for an announcement 
 that may give you a cruel shock— arm yourself with 
 all your fortitude — nerve yourself, I implore " 
 
 " For mercy's sake speak !" said the unhappy 
 lady, becoming as pale as death and trembling all 
 
 " My father— your husband— the Count " 
 
 *' Merciful heaven ! what of him ?" — and Gi- 
 nevra clasped her hands in an agony of suspense 
 and entreaty. 
 
 *' Prepare yourself, I say," continued Silvio : 
 "yout husband is in Naples— and— and — his sus- 
 picions are aroused " 
 
 A shriek was about to peal from Ginevra's lips : 
 Silvio saw that it was so, and he caught her for- 
 cibly by the wrist, saying in a deep earnest voice, 
 " For God's sake be silent !" 
 
 Ginevra looked up at him with the vacancy of 
 despair .; and she leant against a pillar for support. 
 
 *' Yes," continued Silvio, " it is as I tell you ! 
 We stand upon the brink of a precipice— but yet 
 we may be saved ! There is a mine under our 
 feet — and yet I can prevent it from exploding ! 
 Tell me, Ginevra— do you wish that our secret 
 should be kept ? or will you be exposed to the 
 world?" 
 
 " I would perish sooner !" she emphatically an- 
 swered. "But what can you do, Silvio ? — how can 
 you avert this threatening storm ? Oh, heaven 
 have mercy upon me !" 
 
 " I have seen my father — I have ascertained 
 how his suspicions have been excited— I know how 
 they may be set at rest ! Do not question me 
 upon these points— we have no time to lose in use- 
 less discourse— we must act immediately and ener. 
 geticatly ! Will you confide everything to my 
 management ?" 
 
 " 1 will, I will, Silvio !" responded the agonized, 
 almost depairing Ginevra. " Tell me what 1 can 
 do!— ask me anything except to plunge myself 
 still deeper into iniquity !" 
 
 " It is absolutely needful I should see that 
 young Englishman, Charles De Vere " 
 
 " Ah ! then you know " 
 
 " No matter what 1 know," continued the Vis- 
 count, with hurried utterance : " do not stop to 
 Question me ! I tell you I must see this youcg 
 Koglishman— he alone can save us— and he will 
 do it ! I cannot seek him at the English Em- 
 bas- — it is for you to write to him — do this at 
 once — implore him to meet you this evening at 
 sunset, in some convenient spot " 
 
 " And what am I to say to him when wo meet ?" 
 asked Ginevra, cruelly bewildered. 
 
 " Oh !" ejaculated the Viscount impatiently, 
 " you do not understand me ! It is not you that 
 will keep the appointment : it is 1 ! Yes, I will 
 iee him — for I know what to say — I know how 
 to act ! You have promised to leave everything 
 to my discretion-^—" 
 
 " And I will do so, Silvio ! — for on whom can I 
 rely in the whole world ?"— and the unfortunate 
 lady's countenance wore an expression of inde- 
 scribable anguish, while she literally shivered with 
 the violence of her excruciating emotions. '* Only 
 swear one thing— for I see that you know all,— 
 swear, Silvio, I solemnly adjure you, that our babe 
 shall be safe !" 
 
 "I srecar, Ginevra," answered Silvio. "You 
 
 wronged me the other day But no matter ! 1 
 
 am now acting for both our interests ! Hasten 
 
 and write this billet to Charles De Vere Ah ! 
 
 but the place of appointment — where shall it be ? 
 I recollect a convenient spot !— the ruins of St. 
 Nicholas ! Yes, that will do !— and remember, 
 Ginevra, the appointment must be for sunset this 
 evening ! Then to-morrow I will meet you hero 
 again. And now hasten home and despatch the 
 billet to De Vere." 
 
 Ginevra and Silvio separated— the former re- 
 turning to her own mansion in a state of mind 
 bordering on distraction — the latter bending nis 
 way towards the house of Signer Visso. This 
 person, as the reader is already aware, was a sur- 
 geon ; and though outwardly maintaining a cha- 
 racter for respectability, he was in reality unprin 
 cipled, mercenary, and selfish. In him therefore 
 the young Viscount found a ready assistant in all 
 his designs; and Visso on the present occasion 
 promised to succour Silvio's views in the way which 
 he pointed out. 
 
 The last beams of the setting sun were playing 
 upon the Bay of Naples, tipping with gold the 
 pinnacles of the city itself, and casting their flick- 
 ering light upon the slopes of Vesuvius, whea 
 Charles De Vere approached the ruins of St. 
 Nicholas. He had received a billet from Ginevra, 
 earnestly imploring that he would meet her at 
 this hour and at that place, as she had something 
 of the utmost importance to communicate. The 
 youth knew her handwriting from the circum- 
 stance of having received the billet which she had 
 slipped into his hand on the night of the grand 
 entertainment at the British Embassy ; and there- 
 fore he had no suspicion of any sinister design. 
 Ho did not however much like the idea of again 
 meeting the guilty Countess of Camerino, towards 
 whom he experienced a feeling of loathing and 
 disgust : but as he had hitherto become so deeply 
 involved in the circumstances which regarded her, 
 he felt himself almost bound as it were to attend 
 this appointment. Besides, for aught that ho 
 knew, the promised communication might in some 
 way regard his own interests ; or it might have 
 refiTence to the innocent child and the persons 
 who had charg: of it. Thus, all things considered, 
 our hero had pnpedily made up his mind to keep 
 the appointi il ; and be was now bending bis 
 way towards tue ruins of St. Nicholas. 
 
 He could not help thinking that it was a some- 
 what strange coincidence which had led the 
 Countess of Camerino to appoint for the place of 
 meeting the very spot where only a week previ- 
 ously he had found himself one of the principals it 
 a duel : but then he thought, " After all, there is 
 nothing ominous in the circumstance ; for the 
 place is convenient in its seclusion, and may 
 therefore serve for an appointment of one kind as 
 well as of another." 
 
 Thus musing, Charles De Vere entered amongst
 
 AOITES; OB, BEADTT . 
 
 fLElSUBB. 
 
 %h« ruins. The eun had already set, and the di- 
 lapidated edi6ce was involved in semi-obscurity. 
 Still it was light enough to discern all objects ; and 
 Charles looked atound with the expectation of 
 beholding the Countess. He did not however per- 
 ceive her— he saw no one. He passed further 
 into the midst of the ruins — ho stood near a dila- 
 pidated gateway, and again gazed about him. All 
 of a sudden he heard a rustling amidst the ever- 
 greens which grew there in rich luxuriance ; and 
 the next moment two men sprang out upon him. 
 Both had drawn swords in their hands— both 
 rushed furiously at him with the intention of 
 taking his life. At a glance he perceived the 
 terrific danger which threatened him ; and with 
 the abruptness as well as with the force of a 
 tiger springing on his prey, the gallant De Vere 
 darted at his foremost assailant. Grasping the 
 naked weapon which was pointed against his 
 breast, he thrust it aside, and hurled to the 
 ground the individual who bore it. At the sam 
 moment he recognised Silvio. In the twinkiinj 
 of an eye he sprang upon the other ruffian— 
 tall, elderly man, with dark complexion, and wh 
 indeed was none other than the surgeon Yisso. I 
 was by a miracle that Charles escaped a morta 
 thrust from that miscreant's sword : but closing 
 with him as rapidly as thought itself flits through 
 the brain, he dashed him violently against the 
 
 All this was the work of a moment ; and the 
 next instant Charles darted again upon Viscount 
 Silvio, who was just springing up to his feet. Our 
 hero tore the sword from his grasp — and with the 
 violence of the proceeding the blade was snapped 
 in twain. In the meantime up sprang tho sur- 
 geon Visso from the ground : but Charles, with a 
 fragment of Silvio's sword in his hand, rushed to 
 encounter bim. The surgeon was seized with a 
 ludden terror- he turned to fly— his foot tripped 
 — he fell heavily. Then Silvio came bounding 
 forward : be snatched up the surgeon's sword 
 which he had dropped— and with a cry of rage he 
 made a desperate thrust at our hero. At the 
 flame time he drew a dagger from beneath bis gar- 
 ments ; and thus doubly armed, he seemed to hold 
 De Vere's life at his mercy at that instant. The 
 surgeon Visso, perceiving this sudden change of 
 afi'airs, rushed back to the spot— Charles was 
 burled down — and now his very moments seemed 
 numbered, for Silvio was on the point of assassi- 
 nating him — the infinitesimal point of time indi- 
 cated by the twinkling of an eye would have 
 sealed his fate, had not Ginevra suddenly burst upon 
 the scene, giving utterance to the wildest cries ! 
 
 Viscount Silvio, dropping his sword in conster- 
 nation and dismay, turned towards Ginevra— the 
 Burgeon Visso fled— and Charles De Vere started 
 up to his feet. But at the same time he clutched 
 the weapon which the young Viscount had let fall 
 from his hand ; and seizing upon Silvio, he ex- 
 claimed, " Wretch ! I might now take your life if 
 I chose- but I am not an assassin ! 1 will sur- 
 render you up to justice !" 
 
 Silvio made one desperate eS'ort to release him- 
 self : but Charles quickly convinced him that his 
 struggling was ineifectual— for he held him with 
 s powerful grasp, at the same time holding the 
 point of the sword towards his breast, and ejacu- 
 ing, " Besist— and I strike !" 
 
 " Oh ! in the name of all the blessed Saints," 
 cried the distracted Ginevra, " let there be peace 
 between you! Good heavens, in what utter 
 miseries do I find myself involved I Silvio, down 
 upon your knees and implore this gentleman to 
 pardon you ! Grovel at his feet if needful — lick 
 the very dust from his boots — do anything to ob- 
 tain his forgiveness !" 
 
 "Lady," said Charles De Vere, still keeping a 
 firm hold upon his prisoner, " there are outrages 
 which cannot be pardoned! In another moment 
 my life would have been sacrificed — and this 
 wretch, with his companion bravo, would have 
 recked not that a mother should soon be weeping 
 in bitterness for her son ! How, then, can I be 
 expected to show mercy when none was to bo 
 shown to me ?" 
 
 Ginevra clasped her hands in anguish and 
 despair : Silvio's looks were now fierce, sombre, 
 and desperate. 
 
 " Well, let the worst happen !'* he exclaimed, 
 " I am tired of life— and the only favour I ask 
 this gentleman is that he will slay me at once !" 
 
 '* No, my lord," cried Charles, with indignation : 
 " I again tell you that I am not an assassin ! But 
 answer me— why did you seek my life ? what 
 harm had I done you ?" 
 
 " Look you, sir," responded the Viscount, with 
 a desperate recklessness of tone and manner, as if 
 he now meant to abandon himself entirely to his 
 wretched fate without another effort to avert it. 
 "When a man has plunged deeply into sin, and 
 has become inextricably involved in the whirlpool 
 of villanies, calamities, and disasters, it is certain 
 that here and there some one will cross his path- 
 some one will stand in his way — and with tho 
 hope of saving himself he seeks mercilessly to 
 sacrifice whosoever appears thus to thwart him." 
 
 " But I, my lord — what harm have I done you ?'* 
 demanded our hero. 
 
 " Oh ! it is needless to enter into particulars," 
 exclaimed Silvio, not speaking with either scorn or 
 hauteur, but still in the same tone of desperate 
 recklessness as before. " Pray do your worst at 
 once. J. am ready to accompany you to the felons' 
 gaol — aye, even to ascend the steps of the scafTold 
 itself: for I am wearied of this struggle against 
 circumstances— I am tired of battling to emanci- 
 pate myself from the web which my own crimes 
 have woven— and the sooner I escape from this 
 world the better. If life were a garment which 
 could be put off at will, I would with my own 
 hand throw it off at once!" 
 
 "Oh! such language is terrible and hideous!" 
 cried Ginevra, whose countenance was distorted 
 and convulsed with the intense agony of her feel- 
 ings. " Pardon bim — lor heaven's sake forgive 
 him— I entreat you !" and she sank weeping bit. 
 terly at the feet of Charles De Vere. 
 
 " God knows that ho is not io a fitting frame of 
 mind to die!" exclaimed our hero; "and if I 
 thou;>ht that a generous action on my part — — " 
 
 " Oh ! you are good and noble-minded," cried 
 Ginevra, looking up with hope beaming upon her 
 countenance: "pardon him! forgive him! — and 
 he will yet live to bless you for your generosity !" 
 
 There was another moment's hesitation on our 
 hero's part ; and then suddenly quitting his hold 
 upon Silvio's garments, he said, "Depart, my 
 lord— I give jou your life I— ami whatever yoM
 
 AOHES; OK, BElUrr AND PLEASUEB. 
 
 motive may have been in scckiu^ mv death, let 
 mo bope that your veiiKoance is now disarojed !" 
 
 Silvio beat upou Charles De Vere a look in 
 \7bich astonisbmcnt and gratitude were fur a mu- 
 mcnt blended ; and then, aa bis countenance eud- 
 di-nlj grew sombre again, he said in a voico of 
 curresponding gloominess, " 1 scarcely thank you 
 
 for your generosity perhaps it were better that 
 
 I should have gone hence to the gaol and thouce 
 to the scaffold ! But since you will that it should 
 be otherwise, I must yield. Giuevra, do you ac- 
 company me ?" 
 
 " Signer," said the Countess of Camorioo, rising 
 from her kneeling posture and thus addres&ing 
 Charles De Vere, " your conduct towards mo has 
 been altogether of the most magnanimous and 
 generous description " 
 
 " I need not your ladyship's thanks," inter- 
 rupted our hero: "but I must proffer you my 
 own— for you saved mv life! Yet, Ah! when I 
 bethink me, how came you to pen that billet " 
 
 "Oil, Signer! believe not for an instant," ex- 
 claimed Ginevra, " that 1 had a treacherous in- 
 tent or that 1 sought to place your life in danger ! 
 Wo!— I take heaven to witness that I would 
 sooner perish than harm a single hair of your 
 head ! O Siivio ! how could you have done 
 this ?" 
 
 She turned round towards the spot where the 
 young Viscount had a moment b.!fore been stand- 
 ing: but he was no longer there— he bad suddenly 
 taken his departure. 
 
 " Ab, he is gone!" said the Countess: and then 
 bursting into tears, she cried, "Oh, if you knew 
 
 "Alas! I do know everything," exclaimed 
 Charles; " and it seems that the moment is come 
 v.'hen I should inform you thiit I am thus well 
 instructed. Yes, Countess of Camerino! I know 
 binv it is that the Viscount Silvio has obtained this 
 iMSuenco over you " 
 
 "Ah! you know everything ?"— and Ginevra 
 seemed ready to sink down upon the earth with 
 mingled shame and despair. "Yes— you must 
 know everything— or at least you must have by 
 tliis time suspected it ! Ob, Signor 1 do you not 
 hate and loathe me ? — do you not regret that you 
 could ever have displayed the slightest sympathy 
 on my behalf?" 
 
 "There are but few circumstances of life," an- 
 swered Charles De Vere, " in which a person can 
 regret having rendered a service to a fellow, 
 creature. But the services I have rendered your 
 ladyship assume an aspect most perilous to my- 
 self ; and if I am now tarrying in conversation 
 with you here, it is in the hope of learning some- 
 thing that may guide me for the future— for at 
 present it appears to me as if 1 were walking amidst 
 pitfalls " 
 
 " Signor," interrupted Ginevra, " I take heaven 
 to witness that I myself undersiand not wherefore 
 Viscount Silvia should have contemplated a hor- 
 rible deed of assassination ! But my brain is be- 
 wildered— I cannot collect my thoughts — all my 
 ideas are in confusion — i can think of uulbing un- 
 less it be that my husband is in Naples " 
 
 " What ! the Count of Camerino f" ejaculated 
 Charles in astonishment. 
 
 " Yea— the injured and outraged Count of 
 Camerino!" rejoined Gmevra, in a deeply mourn- 
 
 ful Voice. "He is in Naples— concealed 
 where— watching mo in sacret— for his suip 
 have been aroused at least so Silvio 
 
 " And the billet irhich you wrote me ?" 
 Charles. 
 
 " Silvio implored and entreated that I would 
 procure him the means of obtaming an interview 
 with you— he said that you could save us- that be 
 must see you— that he would appeal to your 
 generosity " 
 
 "Atidheoame armed with sword and dagger, 
 and accompanied by a bravo, to kill me 1" 
 
 "Ah, my wretched uncle 1" ciclaimed Gioovra; 
 " him likewise will you pardon ?" 
 
 " Your uncle ?" said Ciiarles inquiringly. 
 
 " Yes— with shame and sorrow do I admit that 
 that man was my uncle, Signor Visso. He lives 
 at that bouse beneath the portico of which you 
 halted on that memorable night — — " 
 
 " I recollect full well," said our hero. " But 
 tell me— for what reason could the Viscous,;, sjek 
 luy life P and wherefore should your uncle succour 
 him in the iuic^uitous attempt?" 
 
 " I swear to you 1 know not ! This morning I 
 met Silvio in the church : he told ms bis falher — 
 my husband — was in Naples: he said also thct wo 
 were suspected — that we stood upon a mine — and 
 that you alone could savo us. Bewildered aui 
 half ilisti-acted, I hastened home and penned that 
 billet which had the elTect of bringing you hither 
 this evening. It was not until the hour filed for 
 the appointment was drawing near, that 1 began 
 to redect upon the step I bad taken. Then uueus; 
 feelings arose within me— vague misgiviugs — mis- 
 trust of Silvio — uutil my apprehensions grew into 
 an intolerable agony, and I sped hither to assure 
 myself that I had not unconsciously become the 
 means for the perpetration of any deed of trea* 
 chery. And heayen be thanked that I came !" 
 
 " Lady, you saved my life," interrupted 
 Charles; "and this I cannot forget. Thanks to 
 you, an affectionate mother will not be doomed to 
 weep in bitterness for the loss of her only son* 
 And there is another too——*' 
 
 Ho was alluding to Agnes : his heart swelled 
 with emotions— he stopped short, and hastily 
 dashed away the tears from his eyes. 
 
 " Signor, 1 comprehend you," said Ginevra 
 gently : " there is one who is dear to you and who 
 would have been crushed down with affliction for 
 your loss ? Y'ou love, then," she continued, in » 
 tone that was very low and tremulous, but yet 
 audible; "and if you understand the power of 
 love, you may perhaps be enabled to make some 
 little allowance fur me. 1 was left an orphan at 
 an early ago— my father died in bankrupt circum- 
 stances— my uncle and aunt gave me an asylum. 
 I am not going to trouble you with a long narra- 
 tive : but 1 crave your tttcc>ntiou to a few hastily 
 sketched facts. It is not quite two years ago that 
 at some grand religious festival I attracted the 
 noiice of the Count of Camoriuu. He inqutred who 
 I was — he sought me at my humble abode— he 
 offered me his hand. At that time I knew no more 
 of love than its mere name. I was dazjied by the 
 prospects of rank and wealth ; I was not happy 
 with my relatives:— can you wonder, therefore, it i 
 accepted the proposal. I becamo the Countess ol 
 Camerino— the marriage was solemnized in private
 
 — nnd from the comp;u-atiyely poor dwelling in 
 (hat obscure quarter of the city, I was suddenly 
 transported to a palatial mansion of whii^h I be- 
 came the mislress. The Viscount Silvio was then 
 absent; and I had never seen hiui. Ho returned 
 in a few weeks ; nnd he was presented to me as 
 his father's youthful bride. I was too youn'jj to 
 play the part of a motherinlaw : I therefore 
 thought that we might be towards one another as 
 sister and brother. Delusive hope ! In a short 
 time 1 found that mv heart experienced strange 
 feelinRS whenever Silvio approached me ; and I 
 trembled all over if 1 happened to find myself alone 
 with bim. 1 became afraid of my own thoughts; 
 I already felt frightened as if I were standing on 
 the brink of a precipice ; but Silvio continued to 
 treat ma with mingled frienuliuess and respect. 
 riien came the memorable fifth of January, at the 
 beginning of the present vear " 
 
 " The date," said Charles inquiringly, " when 
 the conspiracy exploded ?" 
 
 " The same," responded Ginovra. " Alas ! the 
 Count and his son were both compelled tu fly— 
 and 1 remained alone at the palatial mansion. At 
 the expiration of three weeks I learnt through the 
 Marquis of Ortona that my husband the Count 
 was in Paris, and that Silvio was in Vienna. But 
 in the evening of the very same day when I re. 
 ceived this intelligence, Silvio sent me a billet 
 entreating nie to meet him at a particular place. 
 Thinking that he had some tidings to communi- 
 cate in reference to his lather, I hesitated not to 
 speed to the place of appointment. Then he told 
 his love ! He said that scarcely had he reached 
 Vienna when he felt that he could not live without 
 me, and he returned secretly to Naples. I cannot 
 — I need not dwell upon this scene. Suffice it to 
 
 say I listened— I loved— I was weak and I 
 
 fell !' 
 
 Here Oinevra's voice sank to a scarcely audible 
 whisper ; and for upwards of a minute she re- 
 mained silent, the tears falling down her cheeks. 
 At length she resumed in the following manner: — 
 
 "Silvio remained concealed in Naples for a few 
 weeks, until at last I persuaded him to go back to 
 Vienna. I dreaded lest his presence should be 
 discovered by the police; — and there was another 
 reason why it was absolutely necessary for him to 
 return into Austria This was that his father 
 would think it strange if ho did not write ; and 
 any letters that were written, must bo dated from 
 Vienna. So we parted. But alas ! in a short 
 time 1 found that I was in a way to become a 
 mother — the result of my fatal love for Silvio 1 I 
 concealed my position as long as I could ; and 
 then I went to stay with my uncle and aunt 
 ■"'ere I became a mother. About a month hock 
 
 ■'■:> returned to Naples And now. Signer," 
 
 fi Ginevra, thus abruptly winding up her 
 iry, "you know everything." 
 And jiiu say that the Count of Camcrino is 
 
 ■ in Naples?" inquired Charles, " and that his 
 iioions are excited!*" 
 
 ■ So Silvio assured me," replied Gincvra. " But 
 I know not what to think or what to believe ! 
 Ah, Signer ! aU my confidence in Silvio has been 
 destroyed " 
 
 "I know it," said our hero; "and I will now 
 deal frankly with you. You remember your in- 
 crriew with the Vijcount in the church " 
 
 :v iSD I'Lic.'.suuE. a56 
 
 "Yes," exclaimed Ginevra : "it was on tho 
 very day that you yourself were there ! But you 
 had loft the churph before that interview took 
 
 place " 
 
 " No— I was still there— and I heard it all. 
 Thus yi.u see, lady, that at that date I had 
 reason to suspect your love for Silvio was even 
 more than an illicit one : but it was not until tho 
 other night, when for tho first time I learnt your 
 name at the British Ambassador's mansion, that 
 I comprehended the entire mystery ! However, 
 enough on that point. And now in respect to 
 this assassin attack which has been made upon 
 myself, I can only account for it by the siippo. 
 sition that the Viscount Silvio feared that I should 
 treacherously betray tho secret, and that he there- 
 fore sought to remove me from his path. Indeed 
 his own words ere now proclaimed this much " 
 
 "And now I am left in the most horrible 
 uncertainty with regard to my husband !" said 
 Ginevra, wringing her hands bitterly. " Perhaps 
 I shall see Silvio no more: — what am I to do ? 
 I have no friend whom I can consult. Not for 
 worlds would I seek my uncle and aunt : I loathe 
 and detest them ! I have no right to intrude my 
 own griefs and perplexities upon you ; and yet I 
 am in that position which requires immediate 
 action. Ahi I recollect ! — there is one who will 
 counsel me — one who is already acquainted with 
 my fearful secret " 
 
 " Acquainted with your secret ?" ejaculated 
 Charles in astonishment. " To whom do you 
 allude ?" 
 
 "To a worthy priest, who though a young man, 
 is nevertheless renowned for his piety " 
 
 "Do you mean Father Palconara ?" asked out 
 hero quickly. 
 
 " Yes — the same," rejoined Ginevra. "On that 
 very occasion to which you have already referred, 
 when I met Silvio in the church, I confessed to 
 Father Falconara " 
 
 "Lady," interrupted Charles, "you are indeed 
 only too well justified in doubting and mistrusting 
 Silvio ! If it were on that occasion alone that in 
 the confessional you breathed the secrets of your 
 heart. Father Falconara is still ignorant of them : 
 for beneath the Dominican garb was Viscount 
 Silvio himself then concealed !" 
 
 For a moment utter dismay and consternation 
 seized upon the Countess of Camerino: but the 
 next instant a light flashed in unto her mind. 
 Sho recollected the circumstances of that scene in 
 the confessional — especially how she had been 
 answered only in monosyllables ; and thus all 
 that in the agonized and bewildered state of her 
 feelint^s at the time she had failed to look upon as 
 peculiar, now struck her as unmistakably con- 
 firmatory of Charles De Vere's assurance. 
 
 "Ob, that 1 could have ever loved a being 
 capable of such black treachery and such dark 
 crimes as Silvio !" — and the wretched young lady 
 was overwhelmed with a renewed grief. "But 
 why, Signor— oh, why did you suffer this hideous 
 mockery and frightful hypocrisy to take place?" 
 
 "Listen, lady," he replied; "for the circum- 
 stance does indeed demand explanation : I ob- 
 tained but the merest glimpse of tho features 
 concealed beneath tho cowl; and it had likewise 
 been tbe merest glimpse that I had previously 
 caught cf Silvio's countenance —I mean on the
 
 AGKES; on, BEAUTT AND PLEA8UEB. 
 
 memorable night when jou entrusted juur child 
 to my charge. As for Father Falconara, I had 
 never to my knowledge seen him at all. How, 
 then, could I tell that the individual in the Do- 
 minican dress was not Father Falconara ? I 
 suspected it — but I was not sure. This evening, 
 however, I have acquired the certainty that the 
 suspicion was well founded. For the first time 
 have I obtained a full and perfect view of Viscount 
 Silvio's face ; and now therefore would I upon oath 
 affirm that it is the same which I beheld beneath 
 the Dominican hood." 
 
 '* Signer," said Ginevra, in a Toice expressive of 
 utter misery, " I am so completely weighed down by 
 calamities of all descriptions — my path seems to be 
 60 beset with perils, treacheries, and duplicities— all 
 the consequences of my ovrn crime !— that I am 
 reduced to the very verge of despair. I am with- 
 out energy — without power to help myself. I shall 
 return to my home like a doomed person, 
 await whatsoever fresh evils my destiny may bring 
 down upon my head. Upon you, generous English. 
 man, my griefs and perplexities shall be no more 
 obtruded ! Yet there is one last favour which I 
 would implore at your bands " 
 
 " You have saved my life, lady : and besides, 
 you are unhappy !" responded Charles. " I will 
 not refuse you this favour. Speak ! — What is 
 it?" 
 
 "I am not sure whether this morning 1 rightly 
 comprehended Silvio," said Ginevra ; " but the im. 
 
 pression is strong upon my mind and now, 
 
 having received another terrific proof of how 
 
 desperate his character is — I fear Oh ! I fear 
 
 that if be be really acquainted with the place 
 where my poor babe " 
 
 "Enough, lady !" interrupted Charles De Vere; 
 * I comprehend you. Y'ou display the feelings of 
 a mother : they are entitled to respect, and they 
 claim my sympathy. I will repair hence to Nino 
 Corso'e dwelling— I will put him upon his guard : 
 in a word, rest assured that I will give such in- 
 structions as shall protect that innocent babe 
 against any machinations which the unprincipled 
 Silvio may possibly set afoot." 
 
 "A thousand, thousand thanks, generous Signer!" 
 exclaimed the Countess of Camerino in a voice of 
 the most grateful enthusiasm. " And now fare- 
 well !" 
 
 With these words she glided forth from amidst 
 the ruins in one direction, while Charles Da Vere 
 took his departure by another. For precaution's 
 Bake he kept possession of the sword with which 
 his own life had been so terribly threatened half- 
 an-hour back: for the way was lonely between the 
 ruins and the suburb of Naples. Ho however 
 proceeded unmolested : and before he entered the 
 city he tossed the weapon over a hedge into a 
 garden. 
 
 But in the meanwhile what had become of the 
 Viscount Silvio p He had suddenly disappeared, 
 as tbe reader has been informed, at the moment 
 when Ginevra turned round to address her re. 
 proaches unto him; and his intention actually was 
 to speed away from the spot and abandon himself 
 utterly to his fate without another efi'ort to avert 
 exposure and all its frightful consequences. But 
 scarcely was he beyond the ruins, when a change 
 came abruptly over him: his soul sickened at the 
 thought of his guilt becoming kmwn to his father; 
 
 and all in a moment he resulveo to exert his 
 energies in a last desperate effort to save himself. 
 He stole back amidst the ruins— he crept towards 
 the gateway— he listened and overheard everything 
 that took place between Charles and Ginevra. 
 When tbe instant came that they separated, and 
 as their forms were gliding in opposite directions 
 from the midst of the ruins, Silvio stole from his 
 hiding-place, and anxiously looked about to s«e 
 whether Charles De Vere had taken a weapon with 
 him. If he had gone forth unarmed, Silvio was 
 resolved to speed after him and assassinate him 
 with one of the weapons he had left behind. But 
 while one sword lay broken upon the ground, the 
 other was not to be seen :— the Viscount therefore 
 knew that Charles had taken it with him! 
 
 " No matter !" he ejaculated within himself : 
 " he is still in my power ! One bold stroke and I 
 shall yet be safe !" 
 
 While thus mentally exclaiming, Viscount Silvio 
 sped away from tbe ruins ; and with tbe utmost 
 celerity which he could command, he dashed on 
 towards Naples, taking care however to avoid the 
 path which our young hero was pursuing at a 
 comparatively slow pace. 
 
 CHAPTEK XLIV. 
 
 THE THICKEUINO OF THE PIOI. 
 
 It is now time to explain the guilty purposes which 
 Viscount Siltio had entertained previous to the 
 adventure in the ruins. The reader has of course 
 seen that one of these objects was the assassination 
 of Charles De Vere. Had this hideous plan suc- 
 ceeded, Silvio would have hastened to his father, 
 and would have addressed him in some such terms 
 as these:— "You are avenged, my dear father! 
 Smarting under the sense of the tremendous wrong 
 which you have sustained, I found it impossible to 
 wear the mask of dissimulation in Charles De 
 Vere's presence. I reproached him for his villany 
 —high words ensued — we fought— and I have 
 killed him !" 
 
 Thus would Silvio have spoken to his father if 
 murder's work hid that evening been accomplished 
 in the ruins of St. Nicholas. But what other plan 
 did the unscrupulous Silvio entertain ? His mind 
 was made up how to act. He had given Ginevra 
 an appointment to meet him again in the church 
 on the ensuing morning; he would thence on soma 
 pretext have enticed her elsewhere— and he would 
 have assassinated her also ! Indeed, with a devilish 
 iniquity he had planned how to give to this second 
 fiiurder the appearance of suicide. Therefore, if 
 both Charles De Vere and Ginevra had been re. 
 moved from the world, Silvio's secret would have 
 been safe. The former would not have lived to 
 give explanations when confronted by the Count 
 of Camerino— while in respect to the latter there 
 would have been no further dread of a confession 
 issuing from her lips. 
 
 Such were the diabolical plans and such were 
 tbe calculations of the Viscount Silvio previous to 
 the adventure in the ruins : but there, when tbe 
 crisis came, all his foul projects seemed suddenly 
 tered to the winds, partly by tbe prowess of 
 Charles De Vere himself, and partly by the sudden
 
 «pp»Rrance of Ginevrn. Now, however, a new 
 (ievioe— a last and desperate one— had MD/gested 
 itself; and the young nobleman waa hastening to 
 put it into execution. 
 
 Silvio reached the Via Graciosa some time before 
 Charles De Vere; and hastily giving the password 
 to the old porter, the Viscount rushed up the stair- 
 case to his father's room. 
 
 "What tidings, Silvio?" asked the Count of 
 Camerino, whose face was more careworn and 
 ghastlj than on the preceding evening, but in 
 whose eyes there burnt the fires of a stern sombre 
 resolution. 
 
 So. 33. — AeSEB. 
 
 " He is coming, father!— he will be here imni<j. 
 diately !" exclaimed Silvio. " You have but the 
 shortest possible space for your preparations !" 
 
 " And they are soon made, my son," rejoined 
 the nobleman, as he drew a poniard from beneath 
 bis garments. " Here, Silvio, in the middle of this 
 room — upon his knees — shall the young villain 
 vainly implore my mercy ; and I will gloat over 
 his agony and anguish eie I deal the fatal 
 blow!" 
 
 " No, father!" exclaimed Silvio, "you must not 
 do this ! It would be mean and unworthy of you ! 
 Strike him dead at once "
 
 " Silence, Silvio !" ejaculated the Count in a 
 stern voice : " no one eball be permitted to step 
 between me and ray vengeance in the way that I 
 
 The young Vigcount dared not give utterance to 
 another word — but terror seized upon him : he was 
 almost overwhelmed by consternation and dismay ; 
 for he saw that if there were time for explanations 
 between bis father and Charles De Vere, the former 
 would be quickly disabused of his belief in respect 
 to the latter, and everything might bo exposed. 
 The bewilderment which Silvio ciperienced was a 
 perfect excruciation : it was almost a punishment 
 sufGcient to atone for the fearful crimes he had 
 committed. Suddenly an idea struck him; and he 
 saM, " Father, I think it most probable that Charles 
 De Vere will have a sword or some weapon about 
 his person; for these foreigners are cautious when 
 coming into the obscure districts of the city " 
 
 "Let him have weapons," interrupted the Count 
 if Camerino: "do you think he will dare use 
 them ? \Vben I look that young man in the face, 
 and announce to him that I whom he believes to 
 be a ruined merchant or banker skulking away 
 from his creditors, am in reality the Count of 
 Camerino whose wife he has basely seduced — he 
 will be overwhelmed with shame, consternation, 
 and horror — he will not dare draw forth a weapon 
 — but mine will be ready at hand — and as it flashes 
 before his eyes, he will sink down a guilty wretch, 
 all Irembling upon bis knees!" 
 
 " No doubt, father— no doubt !" said Silvio. 
 " But for heaven's sake allow him not leisure to 
 regain the slightest particle of self-possession — 
 drive the dagger deep down into his heart— or if 
 not he will treacherouslv draw forth a pistol, and 
 
 Elieddi 
 
 , may lie weltering in yo 
 
 that of the 
 
 ar own blood instead of 
 who has dishonoured 
 
 " Fear nothing, Silvio," replied the Count : " his 
 doom is sealed ! The warning you have given me 
 in respect to weapons being hidden about bis per. 
 s in, is salutary and shall not be neglected. You 
 will remain here, Silvio : you must see this deadly 
 deed of vengeance !" 
 
 Again the Viscount shuddered to the nethermost 
 T.mfioes of his being; and ho was just upon the 
 puint of devising some excuse to pass over to Nino 
 L'orso's room opposite, when footsteps were heard 
 fiseending the stairs. 
 
 'Now the moment is approaching!" said the 
 Count of Camerino, in a dark sombre voice: and 
 he advanced towards the door, — while Silvio, in a 
 condition of mind scarcely enviable even by one 
 aliuut to be hanged, paced towards the opposite 
 extremity of the little room in the hope of conceal- 
 ing his countenance as long as possible from Charles 
 De Vere. 
 
 Placing himself against the window, with his 
 face towards the curtain, Silvio awaited the ap- 
 proaching crisis with an indescribable agony of 
 Biiapenso. For matters had not progressed as 
 he had hoped and expected : he had fancied that 
 his father would at once strike the young English- 
 man down; but that intimation of leaving a few 
 moments' leisure to gloat over DeVere's condition, 
 was terribly menacing to the safety of the Vis- 
 
 Meanwhile Charles was ascending the ntaircasa 
 fur i:io purpose of swkinj Nino Corso'a apartment 
 
 MI A:<D PLIiASJUliE. 
 
 and executing the mission entrusted to him by Gi- 
 nevra. Just as he reached the lauding he per- 
 ceived that the door of the opposite room stood 
 ajar; for a light was issuing between the opening 
 — and Charles wondered to himself whether that 
 room was still occupied by the insolvent merchant 
 hiding himself from his creditors. 
 
 The next instant that door opened completely ; 
 and the individual whom Charles supposed to be 
 the ruined merchant, appeared upon the threshold. 
 The youth was instantaneously struck by the altered 
 countenance of that personage — so haggard, care- 
 worn, and ghastly was it I His generous soul was 
 smitten with compassion ; for he naturally con- 
 ceived this changed countenance to bo the result of 
 atnictioo on account of his alTairs. 
 
 " Good heavens, my dear sir !" said Cbarlea, 
 hastening forward. " I am afraid you must havo 
 been ill since I last saw you " 
 
 "Pray walk in," said the Count of Camerino! 
 and Charles was struck by the sombre gloominess 
 of the tone in which he spoke, while at the same 
 time he fancied that there was a sinister gleaming 
 in the stranger's dark eyes. 
 
 Charles however readily followed the Count into 
 the room :— indeed he was glad of an opportunity 
 to administer consolation, and to offer such services 
 as he might be enabled to afford. He entered there- 
 fore :— a glance showed him the figure of another 
 man standing at the window, but partially con- 
 ceoled by the curtain as if he were looking from 
 behind it through the casement into the street. 
 Our hero had not time to recognise that figure.* 
 for scarcely had he entered the room when the 
 supposed ruined merchant seized upon him vio- 
 lently with one hand, brandished with the other 
 the naked dagger before his eyes, and exclaimed, 
 " Down upon your knees, villain ! and prepare to 
 die!" 
 
 So sudden was this onslaught— so completely 
 was Charles taken off his guard— and so vigorous 
 was the arm of his assailant, that he was actually 
 forced down into the very position which he had 
 been ordered to take, — namely, upon his knees. 
 Then, ere there was time for a single syllable to 
 go forth from his lips, or before he could even 
 make a single effort to rescue himself, the sup- 
 posed bankrupt merchant added in a fierce vindic- 
 tive tone, " Know me at length ! I am the Count 
 of Camerino !" 
 
 It was no wonder if an ejaculation of astonish- 
 ment burst from Charles be Vere's lips at this 
 if his features should reflect the 
 nd of thoughts which suddenly swept 
 so that to the morbid imagi- 
 nation of the Count of Camerino the youth's looks 
 were those of conscious guilt. 
 
 " I have heard your name, my lord," said 
 Charles : " but little did I think— Unhand 
 me !" he suddenly interrupted himself, " and let 
 me rise ! I have injured you not— neither am I 
 capable of betraying you !" 
 
 " Wretch, you have betrayed me far more 
 cruelly than if you had handed me over to the 
 grasp of justice ! Prepare to die ! Tour last 
 moment is come !" — and the dbgger was lifted 
 high up ready to bo plunged deep down into the 
 heart of our hero. 
 
 A light Hashed in unto the mind of Chariot 
 De Vere : the words just used by the Connt tfetn
 
 i.6IiES; OB, BSIUIT ABB FIEASOBI!. 
 
 269 
 
 ft revelation — our hero coraprebended in 
 
 how suspicion in respect to Uinevia had pointed 
 
 towards himself. 
 
 " By heaven, my lord !" ho exclaimed, " you 
 HroDR me !— you are cruelly deceived !" 
 
 " You lie, wretch !" vociferated the Count. 
 ** The evidence — there— yonder — the child " 
 
 '■ This is madness!" cried De Vere, as all in an 
 instant he sprang up to his feet and caught the 
 arm which was descending to bury the dagger in 
 his breast. " iladman that you are ! I have not 
 yet been quite a month at N^iples !" 
 
 This assertion, so curt and trenchant, so com- 
 plete in itself, having no need of preface nor 
 peroration— staggered the Count of Camerino in 
 a moment. But at that very same instant Silvio 
 came bounding across the room to seize upon De 
 Vere and hold him as an easy prey for the 
 Count's dagger. 
 
 " Stand back, my lord !'* exclaimed Charles, 
 bending a stern look upon the Viscount. " It is 
 not destined that my blood is to be shed this 
 night !" — and it was a significant look which be 
 flung upon the young nobleman. 
 
 " But is this possible ?" gasped forth the Count 
 of Camerino, alluding to the assertion which Charles 
 De Vere had just before made. "Tou have only 
 been a month " 
 
 " Look, my lord ! hero is my passport ! Satisfy 
 yourself." 
 
 Thus speaking, our hero handed the document 
 to the Count of Camerino ; and while the n^ible. 
 man hastily ran his eyes over it, Viscount Silvio, 
 who had left Charles unmolested, seized that op- 
 portunity to whisper in our hero's ear, " He will 
 murder me, his own son — he will murder his wife 
 —he will assassinate the babe likewise, if you be- 
 tray the secret !" 
 
 " Eest assured, my lord," replied Charles, " I 
 shall not travel out of my way to shock and crush 
 a father with the intelligence that he has been dis- 
 honoured by his own son !" 
 
 These speeches were so quickly eschanged and 
 in such low flitting whispers, that the Count of 
 Camerino heard them not : indeed all his atten- 
 tion was absorbed for the moment in the passport 
 which he held in his hands. For a few instants 
 ho looked confounded ; and then suddenly starting 
 as if galvanized by a new idea, be turned almost 
 fiercely upon Charles, saying, " But you may have 
 been at Naples on a previous occasion and with 
 another passport !" 
 
 " Now listen, my lord !" said our hero tirmly 
 and resolutely. " This is so serious a matter that 
 it must at once be set at rest so far as I am con- 
 cerned. ;My conduct shall prove to you whether 
 I am an inuncent or a guilty person. I will coa- 
 sent to rem..in here while you send some trust- 
 worthy messinger to the British Embassy to make 
 all inquiries concerning me : you shall hold that 
 dagger in jour hand, with the point against my 
 breast ; and if when the messenger returns he 
 give you aught but satisfactory intelligence, then 
 may you plunge the dagger into my heart I" 
 
 The Count of Camerino was perfectly bewil- 
 dered : it was impossible that he could resist the 
 frankness and candour of Charles Da Vere's lan- 
 guage and bearing. 
 
 " My God ! what does it all mean ?" he at length 
 eiclaimed. "That child— that child-is it not " 
 
 " My lord," interrupted Charles, " I will not 
 answer you a single question until you havo be- 
 come perfectly satisfied that it is utterly impos- 
 sible I can have any other interest in the baha 
 than that of one into whose hands it was acui- 
 dentally thrown !" 
 
 " By heaven, I believe you !" cried the Count 
 of Camerino. "But lam bewildered! There 
 seems some dreadful mystery " 
 
 " There may be, my lord— and there doubtless 
 is!" said Charles : "but I have no guilty partici- 
 pation in it. Appearances may have been against 
 too— I can understand how you, the Couut of 
 Camerino, a frequent visitor at that room — tbo 
 child itself there — the Countess visiting the place 
 
 the day before yesterday Ah! I see it all! 
 
 Yes, yes— I comprehend it now 1" 
 
 The Count of Camerino was almost inclined to 
 admit at once that he entirely absolved Charles 
 De Vere from the suspicion which had rested 
 against him : but still his recent eiperienccs of 
 the duplicities of the world made him hesitate ere 
 he spoke to that effect. His confidence in hu- 
 manity had been fearfully shaken by his discovery 
 of Ginevra's guilt — his mind was already rendered 
 morbid — he was prepared to take the worst vie.v 
 of things and to believe that dissimulation every- 
 where prevailed around him. After a few mo- 
 ments* reflection, ho said to Charles, " You will 
 wait here till my return. I am going to ma];e a 
 certain inquiry- and I hold you to your pledge 
 that you will consent to be under guard, wuli 
 that dagger imminent above your head. My 
 son, the Viscount Silvio, will act as sentinel " 
 
 "No, my lord!" interrupted Charles firmly; 
 "I have nothing to do with your son — 1 havo to 
 do only with yourself. Into your keeping I may 
 entrust my life: but to the keeping of another — 
 no!" 
 
 The Count was smitten with the idea of somo 
 siuistec or perfidious motive on De Vere's part : 
 all his suspicions flamed up anew — his eyes flashed 
 fierce fires— his brows corrugated— and in a hoarse 
 voice he muttered, " B^ heaven I X half believe 
 him guilty after all!" 
 
 Charles caught tliese words; and as a sudden 
 recollection struck him, he said, " Listen to me, 
 my lord ! If I prove to you that I never was in 
 Naples before my arrival a month back with the 
 British Ambassador, you will bo satisfied ibat I 
 am innocent of any complicity in your dishonour. 
 Look !" he continued, drawing forth his pocket- 
 book and producing a letter; "this is from my 
 mother in England. The very first lines are sig- 
 nificant of tue fact which I am desirous to prove 
 tu your lordship— and you see how recent is the 
 date! Mark these words:- 'By the day ibis 
 letti-r reaches you, my dear Charles, you will havo 
 for the first time set foot upon the Italian 
 shore '" 
 
 "Enough !" interrupted the Count of Camerino, 
 a revulsion of feetiug once more taking place in 
 the youth's favour. " I ought to be convinced 
 
 and yet such is my state of mind Wliat 
 
 think you, Silvin ?" bo demanded, abruptly turn- 
 ing round towards hui son, whose presence for 
 the last few minutes he appeared to have for- 
 gotten. 
 
 " i think, lather," the Viscount hastened to i»- 
 tyniid, "that Signer Do Vera ha» fully acquitted
 
 260 
 
 AaJfBO; OB, BBAriT AXD PtBABUBll. 
 
 and ju8ti6ot! himself— that he is a most honourable 
 young gentleman — that both of us must deeply 
 deplore whatsoever misapprehensions and errors 
 we hare laboured under concerning him — and 
 that we ought to deem him worthy of our friend- 
 ahip instead of our rancour." 
 
 As Silvio thus spoke, he flung a significant 
 glance upon De Vere, as much as to say, *' Since 
 you are sufficiently generous to keep the fatal 
 secret, I am anxious to testify my gratitude." 
 
 " You have spoken well and wisely, my dear 
 FOD," said the Count of Camerino. " Signor De 
 Vere, though you yourself be innocent on a cer- 
 tain point, yet is is evident that you must be ac- 
 quainted with the author of my dishonour — for 
 it was 3/0U who consigned the child to the keeping 
 of the worthy couple in the opposite apartment. 
 I adjure you to name him ! — name him, I entreat 
 and command !" 
 
 "Though making all charitable allowances for 
 your lordship's excited feelings," replied Cliarles, 
 " and indeed profoundly commiserating your 
 lordship on account of the heavy afflictions which 
 in so many ways have befallen you, I am never- 
 theless constrained to deny your lordship's right 
 to coinmand me in any respect. Accident more or 
 less involved me in these mysteries : would to God 
 I had never been thus dragged into their com- 
 plicated web ! But I will not mention the name 
 which you seek to elicit from my lips. This only 
 will I say— and I invoke heaven to attest the 
 truth of the averment — that the individual whose 
 name you demand is no friend of mine !" 
 
 The Count of Camerino again looked deeply 
 perplexed : he bit hie lip— he was more than half 
 inclined to have recourse to the most deadly 
 menaces to elicit the name from De Vere's lips; 
 but his natural sense of justice and the habitual 
 magnanimity of his disposition made him compre- 
 hend that he had no right thus to act. At length 
 he said, " Will you remain here, Signor, for a few 
 minutes P Your pledge shall be deemed suffi- 
 cient—there shall be no terrorism exercised — 
 you are your own master to do as you think 6t. 
 1 now entreat — I do not attempt to command." 
 
 Thus speaking, the Count concealed the dagger 
 about his person ; and Charles De Vere, who for 
 many reasons was anxious to see the issue of the 
 present complex progress of afFiiirs, said, " Yes, 
 my lord — I will remain here until your return." 
 
 "'Tis well," said the Count: and without taking 
 either his hat or cloak, he at once issued from the 
 apartment; so that Cliarles felt convinced ho was 
 merely about to seek the opposite room. 
 
 The instant the door closed behind the Count of 
 Camerino, Silvio approached our hero, saying, 
 "You have acted the noblest part, Signor De 
 Vere " 
 
 " Stand back, my lord !" interrupted Charles, 
 with a cold sternness of voice and look : " how do 
 I know but that you may have a bravo's weapon 
 concealed about your person ? Y'ou saw that I 
 would not trust myself alone with you, unarmed 
 as I am, if you were to have had your father's 
 dagger in your hand !" 
 
 Tlie Viscount had at first turned pale with 
 shame and rage at the taunt thrown out ; he bit 
 bis lip almost till the blood came ; but mastering 
 the emotions which had excited hia hat Italian 
 blood, he said in a meek sorrowfal voice, " You 
 
 have a right thus to reproach me, Signor De Vere : 
 but I swear to you that in the presence of your 
 nohly generous conduct I am incapable of doing 
 you a mischief — and I have now no interest ia 
 attempting it." 
 
 *'Ah! I understand!" ejaculated our hero; 
 " and the suspicion which I entertained was cor- 
 rect ! You sought to make away with me be- 
 cause you feared that if I met your father 1 should 
 prove to him that I had not been guilty towards 
 him, and he would therefore have to seek else- 
 where for the author of his dishonour ?" 
 
 " Y'es— it was so," responded the young Vis- 
 count. " Alas ! Signor De Vere, crime is horribly 
 prolific! It is like the reptile which brings forth 
 a swarm of a venomous brood ! Y'es, Signor — 
 your conjecture is the right one I — and if I dared 
 ask your pardon -" 
 
 " Pardon, my lord ?" ejaculated Charles, scorn- 
 fully ; " there is no pardon for such assassin in- 
 tentions as those ! I gave you your life, more 
 through pity for the frail and wretched accomplice 
 of your deep damning iniquity towards your own 
 father " 
 
 " Hush, for heaven's sake ! he may overhear 
 you !" said the Viscount, trembling all over with 
 mingled rage, shame, and terror. " But tell me, 
 Signor — tell me, I conjure you — is it possible that 
 Nmo Corso and his wife can afford my father the 
 slightest clue to the discovery of the hideous 
 secret ?" 
 
 " I firmly believe they cannot," rejoined Do 
 Vere : then, after a brief pause, be said, as iie 
 looked Silvio fixedly in the face, " Do you know 
 the only means by which this secret which you so 
 appropriately term a hideous one, can be for ever 
 concealed ? Because, for the sake of humanity, I 
 should indeed be glad to know that it could never 
 become developed to the knowledge of your un- 
 happy father ! It is sufficient that he has ob- 
 tained such deep damning proof of his wife's 
 frailty, without being crushed completely to the 
 ground by the discovery of his own eon's crowning 
 
 " What means are there of keeping the secret ?" 
 asked Silvio eagerly. 
 
 " That the Countess of Camerino should retire 
 to a convent," replied Charles, " and that you 
 should never seek to see her more." 
 
 " Oh ! if she could be induced to take this step," 
 exclaimed Silvio, " it would indeed prove effective 
 
 unless indeed at this very moment my father 
 
 be obtaining some clue which we suspect not " 
 
 " I tell you, my lord, I do not think that it is 
 probable," interrupted De Vere. " I will see the 
 Countess to-morrow — I will earnestly conjure her 
 to retire at once to a convent— and I will 
 guarantee to her your own pledge that never 
 more will you seek to intrude your presence upon 
 
 " A thousand thanks But hush!" ejaculated 
 
 Silvio : " was not that a footstep upon the stairs ? 
 — a light footstep like that of a female ?" 
 
 " Y'es," answered Charles : " but it may have 
 been the step of Benedetta— for it is indeed little 
 likely that the Countess would visit this house to- 
 night. Oh, my lord! you see what it is to have a 
 guilty conscience !" 
 
 But here we will leave the two young men to- 
 gether in the one room upon that floor, while wa
 
 K, BBAUTT AKD MEASUEE. 
 
 261 
 
 folloir the Count of Cameriuo into the other. It 
 was Nino Corso's apartment to which he thus has- 
 tened. Nino himself was absent, plying his usual 
 avocation : the children were all sleeping in their 
 beds: Benedetta was preparing the evening meal 
 against her husband's return. 
 
 " Ah, my lord/' she said, as the Count entered 
 her apartment ; "is it you? I thought jou had 
 visitors — I fancied I heard footsteps ascending just 
 
 now to your room and Oh! my lord, for 
 
 I heaven's sake take care ! I tremble on your ac- 
 j count ; for remember that on a former occasion a 
 spy betrayed everything ! Ah ! it is no wonder, 
 my lord, that you ara full of anxiety and excite- 
 ment—you look dreadfully ill — you are pale and 
 haggard " 
 
 "Well, well, Benedetta," interrupted the Count ; 
 " I thank you sincerely for all your generous in- 
 terest on my behalf. Sit down a moment — I wish 
 to speak to you on something of — of — more or 
 leas importance, as it turns out " 
 
 " Good heavens, my lord !" exclaimed the 
 frightened Benedetta ; " no danger menaces you, 
 I hope?— nothing has happened to poor Nino?" 
 
 " Do not alarm yourself," said the Count : " be 
 composed — be tranquil ! Forbear from asking me 
 any questions— but reply to some which I am 
 going to put to you." 
 
 Benedetta seated herself; and completely re- 
 assured on the nobleman's account as well as on 
 that of her husband, she prepared to listen with 
 attention. He continued thus : — 
 
 " Tou will think it strange that I am going to 
 speak to you on such business — but it is through 
 no vulgar sentiment of curiosity. Tell me then, 
 Benedetta — is not the impression on your mind 
 and on that of Nino, that the child there "—and 
 the Count gasped as he alluded to the babe—" be- 
 longs to the young Englishman ?" 
 
 " We have told your lordship all we know of the 
 matter," responded Benedetta. " Sometimes we 
 have fancied that the young Englishman must be 
 the father— but then again, recollecting his as- 
 surances, and the seeming frankness and sincerity 
 with which they were given " 
 
 " But tell me, Benedetta," interrupted the 
 Count; " when the evening before last that veiled 
 lady was here— the lady who confessed herself to 
 be the mother of the child — did it not strike you 
 that she alluded to the young Englishman as if he 
 were the father ?" 
 
 " No doubt it did, my lord," replied Benedetta ; 
 " and I said so to my husband afterwards. But 
 Nino entertained a diiferent opinion " 
 
 " Ah ! and wherefore ?" inquired the Count. 
 
 "Let me see?" said Benedetta. "Oh! it was 
 because the lady never mentioned the young Eng- 
 lishman with any degree of tenderness. I re- 
 member her words : she simply said, ' He who 
 confided the babe to your keeping, spoke in flat- 
 tering terms of you both : but hi/n you will never 
 see again.' — Therefore, my lord, Nino concludes 
 that there was nothing in the lady's speech to 
 falsify the assurance which the young gentleman 
 had given us to the effect that he was not the 
 father of the child." 
 
 " True !" said the Count of Camerino : and he 
 reflected deeply. 
 
 " But why, my lord," asked Benedetta, " are you 
 now interesting yourself " 
 
 " Hush ! ft footstep !" ejaculated the nobleman : 
 and the next instant he was concealed inside the 
 wardrobe. 
 
 Scarcely had the doors of that piece of furniture 
 closed upon the Count of Camerino, when the door 
 of the apartment itself opened, and the veiled lady 
 made her appearance. We should here observe 
 that after the terrific scene amidst the ruins of St. 
 Nicholas, Ginevra had wandered about in an almost 
 distracted state of mind, until thoroughly ex- 
 hausted, she sat down upon a bank just outside the 
 suburbs of Naples. There she bad collected her 
 thoughts : she had meditated upon her position, 
 and upon the course which she ought to pursue. 
 She was wearied of the excitement of the last few 
 weeks : she felt that her reason was tottering upon 
 its throne, and that the endurance of further sus* 
 pense, anguish, terror, and struggling against cir- 
 cumstances, must terminate in utter madness. Her 
 mind was therefore now made up how to act. She 
 would retire to a convent :— there, until the time 
 should arrive when she could take the veil, she 
 would remain inaccessible to every human being 
 except her father-confessor. She would thus shut 
 out from herself all those worldly turmoils in which 
 she was now so painfully involved ; and she would 
 escape her husband's wrath, — believing, as she did, 
 that the discovery of everything was imminent. 
 But ere she sought the convent, she had yet a duty 
 to perform : she must communicate certain parti- 
 culars to those who had the care of her child. No 
 sooner, therefore, was her final resolve taken, than 
 she set off to the Via Gracioaa, where she arrived at 
 the same time that her husband was also in Bene- 
 detta's apartment. 
 
 Ginevra was closely veiled, as on the former 
 d Benedetta said, " Ah, Signora, is it 
 
 " Tes," she replied : " once more and for the last 
 time am I come to visit you ! Tell me, has the 
 English gentleman been here this evening ?" 
 
 " No, Signora," answered Benedetta : " and in- 
 deed from what you told us the night before last, 
 I never expected to see him again." 
 
 "Perhaps he will come presently — indeed he is 
 almost sure to come," resumed Ginevra : " but 
 you may tell him that I have already been — and 
 that it is needless for him to interest himself 
 
 further in my unfortunate afl'airs the message 
 
 I gave him " 
 
 "But is it not natural, Signora." inquired Bene- 
 detta, thus dexterously putting a leading question, 
 — " is it not natural that he should interest himself 
 — he who is the father " 
 
 " Good heavens!" ejaculated Ginevra; "are you 
 labouring under such an error ? Oh ! that young 
 English gentleman is all honour and virtue I— and it 
 was a series of strange accidents which gradually 
 led him on to become interested on my behalf! He 
 has not been a month at Naples— and my acquaint- 
 ance with him dates but from the evening when he 
 confided the poor babe to your care ;— that is pro- 
 cisely a fortnight back !" 
 
 " Ah ! then I was mistaken," said Benedetta. 
 "But perhaps " 
 
 "Do not question me," interrupted Ginevra; 
 " but listen attentively to everything I have to say. 
 t am very, very wretched : the misery of my mind 
 is driving me to madness '. The author of my 
 ruin— the father of that poor babe ther» — may
 
 ^OBBS; OB, BEAUIZ AHD PI,EA9UBK. 
 
 probably come to demand the child at your hands ; 
 nr ho may put in practice some treacherous machi- 
 nations tu obtain pusscesioa of the child " 
 
 "You will tell mo who he is, Signora ?" said 
 Senedelta, " that I may be all the more completely 
 CD toy guard." 
 
 " It is not necessary to mention the name," re- 
 plied the Countess, in a low sombre tone : " for 
 rest assured that he himself will not repeal it ! The 
 warning I have given you is sufficient : watch over 
 ! the poor child — surrender it up to no one— and 
 I believe no tale with which any stranger may seek 
 
 you believe it not, I say, even though you shall 
 
 receive the assurance that the individual who tells 
 it comes on my behalf I The only person who will 
 ever have a right to seek you— the only person to 
 whom I shall ever breathe thp name of the father 
 oi that child — is a holy priest ; and to his ear shall 
 1 to-morrow morning confess everything." 
 
 "And that priest, signora," said Beoedetta,— 
 "you wilt at least tell me !iis name, so that when 
 he presents himself I may know that no treacherous 
 intent is harboured with respect to the child ?" 
 
 "Yes — I will tell you the priest's name," said 
 Ginevra: "it is Father Falconara. To-morrow, 
 ere the hour of noon be proclaimed, will ail my 
 sins be confessed to that holy priest; and by his 
 means shall I at once seek the seclusion of a con- 
 vent. I am rich; and everything that I can com- 
 mand—jewels and money— shall be divided into 
 two equal portions, one for the benefit of the con- 
 vent, the other to remain in the hamls of Father 
 Falconara, who will act as trustee for my child. 
 Therefore every three or six months may you ex- 
 pect to see that holy father, who will bring you the 
 interest of the money confided to his keeping. 
 Through him will you send me word how pro- 
 gresses my child, so that even in the seclusion of 
 the convent I may at least learn that the innocent 
 one thrives beneath your fostering care !" 
 
 Ginevra now took the babe from the cradle and 
 pressed it to her bosom. She wept in anguish — 
 she sobbed convulsively— she turned aside to caress 
 her babe, so that while temporarily raising her veil 
 her countenance might not be seen by Benedetta. 
 The worthy woman herself was deeply affected as 
 she listened to those subs; and she felt the tears 
 trickling down her own cheeKs. 
 
 " Signora," she said, in a gentle voice, " I fear 
 that you have known much unbappiness; and even 
 though you may have been guilty " 
 
 " Guilty i" echoid Ginevra, with an accent of 
 frenzy : " yes— deeply, deeply guilty 1"— and then 
 she added in a lower voice, " But if there be atone- 
 ment in the experience of punishment, my guilt 
 has akeady been more than half atoned for ! 1 am 
 about to quit the great busy world and retire to 
 the seclusion of a convent. Thither shall 1 carry 
 the sense of my guilt! I have already sworn 
 within myself that to no one except the holy priest 
 
 
 breathe the name of him 
 
 .rayer — the accomplice of my 
 
 crime ! Think not therefore that towards 
 worthy friend, I am displaying a want of conti- 
 dence that savours uf ingratitude. And now fare- 
 well ! One last kiss upon this poor innocent's 
 
 cheek God ! it is hard to tear myself away ! 
 
 and this is not the least portion of the fearlul 
 
 punishment that has overtaken me for my guilt I" 
 
 In a half distracted ttate of mind the unfortu- 
 
 nate Ginevra replaced her babe in the cradle: eh* 
 then moved towards the door of the apartment — 
 but she could not leave the room — stie sauk upoa 
 a chair, weeping and sobbing bitterly. Tbcu she 
 again rushed to the cradle : she snatched up the 
 child— she pressed it to her bosom: it cried— she 
 
 gave it into the arms of Benedetta and she 
 
 rushed from the apartment. 
 
 The concluding portion of this scene was so sad, 
 so heartrendmg, so affecting, that Benedetta 
 almost completely forgot the Count of Camerioo 
 was concealed in the wardrobe; so that when 
 he issued thence she started as if with sudden 
 
 "Was it not afflicting, my lord," ehe said, with- 
 out raising her eyes; for her looks were bent 
 upon the child whom she was ende&Tourlog to 
 soothe and tranquillize. 
 
 " Very afBicting," he answered, but in so cold a 
 tone that Benedetta was for an instant struck witU 
 a sensation as if there were heartlessness in it. 
 
 The next moment the Count of Camerino issued 
 from the apartment; and rapidly crossing the 
 landing, he re-entered his own room, where he had 
 left his son with Charles Do Vere. Silvio was 
 pacing the apartment in an agitated manner j and 
 the instant his sire entered, he glanced around, 
 flinging a look of intense anxiety upon his parent'^ 
 countenance. Charles was seated : but he rose ai 
 the nobleman opened the door. 
 
 " Signer De A'ere," said the Count, at once ac- 
 costing our hero, taking his hand, and pressing it 
 with fervour, " 1 have a thousand, thousand apolo- 
 gies to make you !— most humbly do 1 entreat 
 your pardon! — for deeply did I wrong you! I 
 
 have now learnt — no matter how but 1 havt 
 
 learnt that you, Signer, are a young man of truth 
 and virtue. Who the author of my dishonour 
 actually may be, 1 as yet know not. But " 
 
 The Count stopped short, as if suddenly check- 
 ing himself in the additional statement he was 
 about to make: then perceiving Silvio, bo said. 
 
 The perishing wretch abruptly snatched from 
 drowning, or the felon receiving a reprieve upon 
 the scaffold, experiences not a greater relief than 
 that which suddenly seized upon Silvio. He saw- 
 in a moment that he was as yet unsuspected ; and 
 he felt that the old adage which declares that 
 " vrbile there is life there is hope," cow applied to 
 bis own position. 
 
 " Yes, my dear son," said the Count of Camerino, 
 " you were right when you just now decl»ted that 
 wo ought to regard Signor De Vere with frieod- 
 sbip, and not with rancour. I will not detain him 
 here another moment! — it is no longer necessary 
 that I should ask him to tarry within these walls I 
 
 1 You can both leave me: I would be alone; but 
 
 j you, Silvio, come to me again to-morrow evening 
 
 I at tUe same hour." 
 
 j " 1 will not fail, father," responded the Viscount, 
 
 " Put— but — have you obtained any clue " 
 
 " Do not question me, my son," interrupted 
 the Count, — " at least not now ! I would fain be 
 alone. Leave me, Silvio!" 
 
 The young Viscount turned aside to envelope him- 
 self in his cloak and slouching hat, and the Count 
 of Camerino, again pressing Charles De Vere'g 
 hand viith friendly fervour, said in a low hasty 
 whisper, " It is unnecessary for you to visit th»
 
 AGKES; OK, BEAUTY 
 
 rLEASVBB. 
 
 opposite room this evening. Tbe message en- 
 trusted to you bus already been delivered through 
 another channel !" 
 
 Our hero looked astonished .• but the Count 
 said, " Farewell !" and at once turned aside. 
 
 DeVere and Silvio issued together from the 
 room and descended the stuircase. As they passed 
 out into the street the Viscount stopped short, 
 and asked in an almost suffocating voice, " Good 
 heavens! what can all this mean ?— has my father 
 indeed obtained a clue ?" I 
 
 " My lord, I know not what to think," replied 
 Charles De Terc. "But I tremble — I confess 
 that I tremble " 
 
 "O God! what will become of me P" moaned 
 the wretched Silvio. 
 
 "Instead of thus invoking the name of the Al- 
 mighty," rejoined De Vera solemnly, " return to 
 your dwelling, wherever it be — fall down upon your 
 knees— and implore God to have mercy upon you 
 for your sins ! Pray if you can, my lord— pray for 
 yourself and the hapless Ginevra !" 
 
 Having thus spoken, Charles de Vere turned 
 abruptly away, and sped along the street in a con- 
 trarv direction from that which the Viscount Silvio 
 had begun to take on issuing from the house 
 where his father lodged. Our hero made the best 
 of his way back to the Embassy ; and when in the 
 solitude of his own chamber, he deliberated on all 
 that had been taking place. 
 
 "What meant the Count by te:iing me that I 
 need not seek Benedetta's room ? through what 
 other channel had Ginevra'a message been de- 
 livered? Ah! that light step upon the staircase! 
 — could it have been that of Ginevra herself ? Is 
 it possible they have met,— that outraged husband 
 I and guilty wife? 'lis scarcely possible!— or else 
 would she have thrown herself at his feet and con- 
 fessed everything ! But 'tis evident that he still 
 suspects not Silvio ! Yet the plot is thickening— 
 ond I fear the mine will soon explode !" 
 
 In this state of bewilderment, uncertainty, and 
 apprehension, Charles sought his couch. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE CHIEF OP POLICE. 
 
 On separating from Charles De Vere, Viscount 
 Silvio proceeded hurriedly through the streets, a 
 prey to an anguish more excruciating than perhaps 
 any which he had previously experienced : for be 
 was racked with a hideous uncertainty and sus- 
 pense. He rushed on as if seeking to outstrip his 
 own horrible thoughts : — but the bad thoughts of 
 men are never beaten in such a race— they keep 
 up with him— they flock around him — they hem 
 him in— they assume the most appalling shapes 
 to his view — they become palpable and tangible — 
 they aro like fiends lashiug him with scorpions. 
 Silvio naturally possessed a strong mind : but he 
 now felt that it was yielding and giving way 
 before the constant shocks which it had recently 
 sustained. He was almost convinced that his 
 father had at length acquired some clue which 
 must inevitably carry him on to a discovery of the 
 whole truth ; and he recoiled in horror from the 
 idea of again meeting that outraged parent accord- 
 
 ing to the appointment given him for the follow- 
 ing evening. His terrified imagination pictured 
 to itself the Count of Camerino awaiting him 
 in that room which he had just left— bidding him 
 close tbe door — then suddenly overwhelming him 
 with looks of lightning as preluaes to the thunder, 
 words of accusation. Appalled with the idea, 
 Silvio stopped suddenly short in his hurried frantic 
 course through the street : a sense of oppression 
 came over him as if it were a sun-stroke received 
 in a noon-day of intense sultriness. He staggered 
 and reeled to a stone bench in front of the gate ot 
 a marketplace. 
 
 Though the evening air at that Christmas season 
 was actually very cold, and tho wind blew chill 
 from the Bay of Naples, Silvio felt as if he were 
 under the influeuce of a stifling heat, for his very 
 brain seemed to be ou tire. Scarcely conscious 
 of what he was doin^, he took off his hat to woo 
 the wind to his feverish brows ; and at that in- 
 stant the moon, peeping from behind a cloud, fluno 
 its beams upon his face. A man who was passing 
 on the opposite side of the way, caught a glimpse 
 of the Viscount's features — stopped short — aud 
 then retreated to a little distance; for Silvio had 
 all in a moment replaced the hat upon his head. 
 It was not that he perceived that he bad been 
 thus noticed; but ho was suddenly struck by the 
 imprudence of the action ho had committed. 
 
 He now arose from tbe stone bench and con- 
 tinued his way. Tho man continued to watch 
 him from the opposite side of the street, whore he 
 crept stealthily along in the deep shade of the 
 houses. But at a little distance this man overtook 
 another, with whom he was evidently well ac- 
 quainted :— they exchanged a few rapid words, 
 and then they abruptly crossed the street. 
 
 " One word. Signer !" said tho first-mentioned 
 man, laying his hand upon Silvio's shoulder. 
 
 The Viscount's first impulse was to strike right 
 and left and knock down the two individuals— for 
 the street was a lonely and obscure one : but a 
 pistol was suddenly presented before his face, and 
 the words, " My lord, you are my prisoner !" smote 
 his ear. 
 
 These were two agents of the secret police into 
 whose clutches he had fallen. He saw the neces- 
 sity of surrendering at discretion ; and he said, 
 "Harm me not, and I will offer no resistance." 
 
 A hackney-coach happening to come along at 
 tbe instant, and proving to be unoccupied, it was 
 hailed by the police-agents. They entered it with 
 their prisoner, and ordered tbe driver to proce.d 
 at once to the office of the Chief of Police; for 
 this was a most important capture, and one which 
 must immediately be reported to the head authority 
 of the department. Silvio, throwing himself back 
 in the vehicle, spoke not a single word. He 
 scarcely knew whether his arrest wero a subject 
 for rejoicing or sadness. It might lead hiia to 
 the gibbet or to perpetual imprisonment in ii 
 dungeon, and thus in any way separate him from 
 the concerns of the world and the progress of tho 
 iccideuls which a few minutes back had been so 
 frightfully excruciating him. Nevertheless, these 
 were evils from which there might oossibly be an 
 eventual means of escape; whereas it seemed onlv 
 too certain that death or eternal incarceration 
 must now be his fate. A little while ago, and tue 
 images of bis father, Ginevra, and Charles De
 
 261 
 
 «ES; OK, BEAUIT . 
 
 scnB. 
 
 Vere were Tiyidly depicted in his mind : but now I 
 thej bad seemed to fall into a species of obscurity 
 — he beheld recent events as if through a mist : 
 it was the looming gibbet and the yawning dun- 
 geon that were at present hideously nrid in their 
 delineation to his mind's eye ! I 
 
 In a quarter of an hour the official residence of ; 
 the Chief of the Police was reached ; and the two ' 
 agents alighted with their prisoner. The drircr of 
 the hackney-coach, baring been paid his fare, de- 
 parted, utterly ignorant who the captive was that 
 he had conveyed thither, and not daring to ask 
 ' any questions ; for in Naples matters of this de- 
 I ecription are conducted with secreo; as well as with , 
 despatch. 
 
 The young Viscount was escorted into a 
 I waiting-room, where he was detained a few 
 I minutes, while a whispered message was sent up 
 to the Chief of the Police, who was entertaining 
 a party in his drawing-room. Immediately on re- 
 I ceiving the announcement that was whispered in 
 his ear — for all was secrecy and mystery within 
 those walls as well as without— the Chief of the 
 Police quitted his guests, repaired to his own 
 ' private cabinet, seated himself at his desk, and 
 1 ordered the prisoner to be brought into his pre- 
 I sence. We may observe that the Chief of the 
 ' Police was a short thin man, with a dark com- 
 plexion, grey hair and whiskers, keen black eyes, 
 I and deep furrows upon his brow. These were 
 ' however the effect of strong passions rather than 
 of age ; for his years did not much exceed fifty.— 
 The portraiture will no doubt be recognised by 
 every one who has happened to sojourn awhile at 
 j Ifaples. 
 
 I Into the presence of this functionary was the 
 Viscount Silvio conducted by the two agents who 
 had captured him. There was no noise, no cere- i 
 mony. One or two domestics whom they met in 
 the passages leading to the private cabinet, passed 
 by in silence, and did not so much as fiing a look 
 j of curiosity, much less ask a question. They were 
 accustomed to such scenes, and knew that they 
 were not to he pried into. 
 
 Silvio took off his hat in token of respect for 
 the Chief of the Police : but bis demeanour was 
 otherwise coldly stem, with a tincture of haughty 
 defiance. I 
 
 " Viscount Silvio Camerino," said the Chief of 
 the Police, in the grave sententious style of Minis- 1 
 terial authority, " implicated in the treasonable 
 conspiracy which was discovered on the 5th of 
 January of the present year, 1S4S, what have you 
 to say wherefore you should not be at once con- 
 signed to prison to await your trial on those 
 charges ? " 
 
 " I have nothing to say," responded Silvio 
 coldly. 
 
 "Search his person," was the mandate now 
 given by the Minisur of Police. 
 
 Silvio submitted to a process against which he 
 knew it would be useless to resist : but no weapon 
 was found upon him, nor were any documents of 
 the slightest consequence discovered, ' 
 
 " Leave the prisoner alone with me," said the 
 Chief of the Police : and the two agents forthwith 
 left the cabinet. *' They remain in the passage 
 outside," added the Minister, thus intimating to i 
 the prisoner that it would be futile for him to 
 ■ttampt aiif violence or to aim at an escape. | 
 
 Silvio bowed haughtily, as if to imply that bt 
 felt himself to be in the functionary's power and 
 should remain ia a forced quiescence accordingly. 
 
 " You are very young, my lord," resumed the 
 Chief of the Police, " to find yourself thus seti. 
 ously compromised : for you cannot be ignorant 
 of the consequences?" 
 
 " When men undertake certain things, my 
 lord," replied Silvio, " they moat be prepared for 
 all eventualities." 
 
 " But these are serious in the present ease," 
 continued the Minister, fixing his dark eyes keenly 
 upon the Viscount. "The punishment of treason 
 may be the scaffold, and cannot be less than im- 
 prisonment to perpetuity !" 
 
 The suspicion had arisen in Silvia's mind that 
 the Minister was thus addressing him with some 
 ulterior object, and not simply in compliance 
 with official forms. Moreover the idea seemed 
 to be corroborated by the circumstance of the 
 dismissal of the two agents from the room. Silvio 
 therefore said in a more urbane tone than he had 
 hitherto adopted, " When I informed your Excel. 
 lency that I was prepared to meet the conse- 
 quences of my offence, it was under the impression 
 that they were inevitable. But I have not en- 
 joyed ftfe so long, nor do I held freedom so lightly, 
 as to renounce the hope of saving the former and 
 regaining the latter, if such hope may be tole- 
 
 The Minister again looked very hard in Silvio's 
 face ; and after a pause, he siid, as if in a com- 
 miserating tone, " It were indeed a pity if one so 
 young, with so many worldly advantages, and 
 who might shine in society with such effect, should 
 be suddenly cut off from the sphere in which be 
 ought to flourish !" 
 
 " In one word, my lord," asked Silvio, " ii 
 there a means through which I could be restored 
 to that sphere from which I confess that with 
 much regret I have been alienated ?" 
 
 " There is always a means," responded the 
 Chief of the Police, with a hypocritical expression 
 of countenance, '* by which penitence can be dis- 
 played. Tou say that you regret having been led 
 into treasonable practices against his Majesty's 
 sacred person .' This regret evidences contrition 
 —contrition leads to atonement— and atonement 
 may be followed by pardon." 
 
 " If your Excellency be mercifully inclined to- 
 wards me," said the Viscount, " my eternal gra- 
 titude " 
 
 " Gratitude must be shown by deeds as well as 
 words. Answer me. Viscount Silvio ! Were you 
 not present at the very last meeting of the chiefs 
 of the conspirators on the night of the 5th of 
 January ?" 
 
 '■■ I was," replied Silvio, his heart now palpi- 
 tating with hope aa each successive word which 
 fell from the lips of the Minister seemed to be 
 drawing nearer to the point whereat the terma 
 would be specified on which the young nobleman 
 might save his life and regain his liberty. 
 
 " Tou were present at that meeting," continued 
 the Chief of the Police : " you can thereiore re- 
 collect the names of all the rest who were pre- 
 sent ? and you can perhaps furnish an outUne of 
 the speeches that were delivered on the occasion f . 
 
 " Ail this I could do," rejoined SUvio. "Eut,
 
 " yVi-]], io be Bure," laid the Minister coolly, 
 ";uur fatber was amoDgst them. But be wbo 
 wishes to sme himself by displaying contrition 
 and making atonement, must forget all the ties 
 of kinship — or rather he must sacrifice them !" 
 
 "True!" said Silvio: and yet he shuddered as 
 be thus corroborated the Minister's sophisticated 
 aphorism. 
 
 " And are you prepared to make this sacrifice, 
 even in respect to your own father, for the sake 
 of lite and liberty ?" demanded the nily official. 
 
 To die ignominiously and prematurely was a 
 terrible idea : tu languish out the rest of exist- 
 ence in a loathsome dungeon was scarcely less 
 horrible ; and the ViscounI, after a few moments 
 of strong internal struggling, said with the firm* 
 ness of a desperate resolve, " I am prepared to 
 make any sacrifice!" 
 
 " Look here !" said the Minister of Police, taking 
 from a drawer a file of official documents, held to- 
 Ho. 34.— A0HB8. 
 
 gether by a piece of red tope i 
 your eye over these pages !" 
 
 Silvio did so ; and he found that the doeumenta 
 contained all the information to which the Minister 
 had alluded, — the names of the personages present 
 at the last meeting of the conspirators on the 5 th 
 of January, and an outline of the speeches deli. 
 vered on the occasion. The young nobleman's 
 heart sank within him — a cruel sense of disap. 
 poiotment smote him — but the next instant ho was 
 inspired with a feeling of indignation, as he turned 
 his flashing eyes upon the Chief of the Police. 
 
 " Softly my lord !" said this functionary, evi- 
 dently reading what was passing in Silvio's mind: 
 "be not angry— lose not your temper ! 'What I 
 have already said and done wes only intended to 
 try you. A moment's reflection might have con- 
 vinced you that I already long ago possessed the 
 information mentioned, and tliat therefore I coul'i 
 not require it from your lips."
 
 AG5KS; OR, BKACIT ASD rLKASCKE. 
 
 •"Then what do jou mean? and what am I to 
 understand, my lord," inquirerl Silvio, his heart 
 again palpitating under the inliuence of hope, with 
 which however was blended the fluttering of sus- 
 pense. 
 
 " Listen, Viscount ! Tou ere now assured me 
 that you are prepared to make every sacrifice, 
 even that of your own father. Bid you not ?" 
 
 After a moment's hesitation, Silvio aDSwered, 
 "Idid." 
 
 '"Tis well!— let us understand each other rightly 
 as we go on;"— then suddenly fixing his keen eyes 
 upon the young nobleman, the Minister S'iid 
 »ith startling abruptness, " Your father is in 
 Naples !" 
 
 Completely taken by surprise and thrown off his 
 puard, it is not to be wondered if Silvio betrayed 
 by his looks that the Alioister was ri^bt. 
 
 " I knew it !" this fuoi-Mionary instantaneously 
 went on to say. "But 1 hesitate nut to confesj 
 that though my agents for a moment obtained 
 scent of him, they lost it — and they have since re- 
 mained utterly at fault. The capture of the Count 
 of Camerino is more important to the King's G-o- 
 vernment than that of the Viscount Cdmerino. 
 Now do you understand me ? and are wo to uuder- 
 btand each other?" 
 
 Silvio had already plunged so deeply into crime, 
 niike in deed and in intention, that he speedily 
 recovered from the shock which the Minister's 
 words for a moment occasioned him ; and he in- 
 vestigated the subject with a villain's calculating 
 calmness. 
 
 "If the Count of Camerino," be said, "were 
 )etrayed into your hands— and if he knew that I, 
 bis son, had betrayed him— be would disinherit me 
 of all his possessions and estates. Of what use, 
 therefore, were it for me to go forth into the world 
 a beggar ? Belter to perish on the scaffold or exist 
 a captive in a dungeon !" 
 
 " The Count of Camerino," replied the Minister, 
 " need never know that bis son betrayed him." 
 
 '* But look you, my lord," continued Silvio, "I 
 have done something — no matter what — which my 
 father stands upon the brink of discovering, even 
 if by this time he have not discovered it! This 
 fact alone will induce bim to disinherit me. 
 Therefore, I shall still go forth into the world a 
 beggar!" 
 
 "Think you that your father has already made 
 » will to the effect of disinheriting you ?" inquired 
 the Minister. 
 
 'No- 
 
 ISilv 
 
 "Then from the instant that his arrest shall be 
 pffected," responded the Chief of the Police, " he 
 2an have no power to make a will. You therefore 
 
 villi 
 
 
 " Ah ! is it so ?" ejaculated Silvio, unable to 
 I conceal bis joy at the idea of inheriting the pa- 
 ternal estates in the face of any discovery that his 
 father might make with reference to his past ini- 
 quities. 
 
 "It is so," said the Minister; "and I swear to 
 JOU that every lacility which the law can afford 
 •ball be granted " 
 
 " But my father's estates are in Tuscany," in- 
 terjected Silvio: "he has but comparatively a small 
 property in Naples!" 
 
 "So much the better," replied the Minister. 
 " Tou bare nerer been attainted vith treason in 
 
 the Tuscan dominions : your accession to the 
 estates will be prompt and easy." 
 
 " Yet there is one more objection," observed 
 Silvio, with a deep sigh ; " and I fear that it ia 
 fatal. My father has not been attainted with trea- 
 son in Tuscany ; and therefore any will which bo 
 may make even though he be an outlaw in Naples, 
 will hold good in Tuscany." 
 
 "Ah, my lord!" caid the Minister, "you «cem 
 to think that we can only do things by halves : but 
 I will teach you different. What if your father 
 were utterly debarred from the use of writing 
 materials?— or what if any will which he might 
 succeed in making, were torn up and thrust into 
 the fire ? Am not I Chief of the P.jlice P-is there 
 any prisoner in his Majesty's dominions who can 
 retain about his person the smallest scrap of paper 
 if it suits me to have it in my own possession ?— 
 Enow you not that the moment a man enters a 
 prison, it is the same as entering a sepulchre, if I 
 so will it ? In short, my lord, all these .lifficulties 
 you have started are the veriest trides ; and I 
 assure you that in return for the service required 
 at your hand(>, there shall be the recompeose 
 which I see tliat you require. The King's frea 
 pardon, under his own sign-manual, shall be at 
 once placed in your possession when the deed ia 
 
 There was a moment's strong internal struggle 
 on the part of Silvio ; and then he eaid, " Procure 
 the pardon, my lord— let me see it — let me know 
 that I shall at least be rewarded for the tremen- 
 dous sacrifice required of me, and that sacrifice 
 shall be made !" 
 
 " Ah !" said the Chief of the Police, the colour | 
 for an instant flushing his dark complexioned 
 countenance ; " then you mistrust me— you think | 
 that I shall play you false — that I shall avail my- j 
 self of your services and neglect to give the re- i 
 compense " 
 
 Silvio looked the Minister full in the face; and ' 
 said, " You and I, my lord, are about to play a 
 game which neither of us could b-?ar to regard 
 with patience if the slightest spark of humanity 
 lingered in our souls ! You are enticing me to 
 the betrayal of a father ; and from my lips the 
 fatal assent has already gone forth! I have not 
 the courage to recall it. But what our opinion 
 must he of each other ^o» know as well as I. | 
 Do we not stand in the relationship of two Til- { 
 
 " Viscount Silvio of Camerino," interrupted the j 
 Chief of the Police, '• this is language which I I 
 can only pardon by making allo\v«Qcea for the 
 exciting circumstances in which you are placed. 
 Let us however spare unnecessary verbiage". The 
 bargain ia already made, because I assent to your 
 proposition. It is however now too late to pro- 
 cure the document which you demand until tha 
 morning. The full and free pardon must emanate 
 from the olEce of the Minister of the Interior, 
 and must receive the King's signature. You will 
 therefore be compelled to pass the night beneath 
 this roof. Yet every attention shall be shown 
 you ; and you shall be treated as tny guest, with 
 this difference only — that every precaution will be 
 taken to prevent your escape. You will therefore 
 do well not to attempt it." 
 
 "Answer me one question, ray lord!" said 
 Silvio. " Will my imprisoooient here be kept
 
 J1GSE3; OE, BEAUTY AND PLEA8UEB. 
 
 M7 
 
 »ltogetber secret p — will the issue of a pard( 
 a sewet ? In a word, cno everjtbiiig be so well 
 manage.l that ujv father maj not kuow and th 
 world may never suspect that it is I, the Visooun 
 of Caniptino, who have perpetrated this awful 
 crime ?" 
 
 " The secret is veritably in your own keeping," 
 answered the Cliii-f of the Police ; " because if yot 
 breathe not a sentence thereof to a single soul, nc 
 other lips will give publicity unto it." 
 
 "Then be it all as jour Eiceliency has pro. 
 posed," rejoined Silvio. 
 
 " But it is for me to ask a question in my turn,' 
 Slid the Chief of the Police; "and il jou wish 
 the bargain to be kept, you will see the necessii 
 of replying in truthfulness to this quesiion." 
 
 "Speak, my lord," said the Viscount. 
 
 " You are about to remain within these walls, 
 close prisoner, for perhaps twelve hours— more i 
 less. Will your disappearance excite any suspicion ? 
 — will your father miss you during the interval? 
 — in short, will the very circumstance of this dis- 
 appearance cause him to suspect that you are cap- 
 tured, and by alarming him oc account of his own 
 safety, induce him to flee ?" 
 
 "l\o," replied the Viscount of Caraerino: "it 
 was understood that I should not see my falher 
 again until to-morrow evening ; and in no other 
 respect can my disappearance for a few hours en- 
 gender the slightest suspicion at all calculated to 
 mar our pnjects." 
 
 " -'Tis well," said the Chief of the Police. " And 
 now everything is perfectly understood between 
 us. Have the kindness to remain here for a few 
 
 Tne Minister, having thus spoken, issued from 
 bis cabinet, closing the door behind him. Silvio 
 stood in (runt of the desk, hia arms folded across 
 his chest— bis countenance bent downward with an 
 expression of sullen gloomy desperation. Kot many 
 moments however bad ebpsed since be was thus 
 lelt alone, when a curtain at the further extremity 
 of the cabinet was pushed aside, and one of the 
 most beautiful female faces that Silvio had ever 
 in bis life seen, peeped into the room ; for that 
 curtain concealed a private door which opened 
 noiselessly upon its hinges. The charming coun- 
 tenance was however instantaneously withdrawn; 
 for the young lady was evidently startled either on 
 beholding some one there at all, or else at perceiv- 
 ing a flifl'erent person than the one whom she ex- 
 pected to 6nd. The curtain fell into its place; 
 and the lovely vision vanished from Silvio's view. 
 
 A minute ifterwards the Chief of the Police re- 
 entered the cabinet, followed by a footman in 
 livery. 
 
 " Sly two agents are gone, my lord," be said, 
 thus addressing the Viscount in a whispering 
 voice; "and the seal of secrecy rests upon their 
 lips. Have the kindness to accompany this ser- 
 vant, who is placed at your lordship's orders." 
 
 Silvio bowed and followed the domestic from the 
 cabinet— not by the curtained door, but by the 
 one vihich had previously given him admission. 
 The ilinister bowed coldly in acknowledgment of 
 the still colder salute on the Viscount's part. The 
 young nobleman was led by the footman along a 
 passage, where they met no one, into a handsomely 
 furnished sitting-apartment, with a bed-chamber 
 communicating Wsz-lightg were burning upon 
 
 the table, where there was also a tray covered 
 with a variety of refreshments. It was evident 
 that all these preparations had been made on the 
 young nobleman's account. 
 
 "1 hope you will be satis6ed with these apart- 
 ments, Signer," said the fnotcnan, thus addressing 
 Silvio as if he were a civilian — thereby proving 
 that he either really did not know who he was, or 
 else had been instructed not to know him. " The 
 view is certainly not very pleasing ; but as I un- 
 derstand that you are not hkely to pass more (ban 
 the night witbiu these walls, it signiGes little." 
 
 Thus speaking, the footman opened one of the 
 casements; and Silvio mechanicolly looked out, — 
 this being indeed the purpose for which the do- 
 mestic's remarks were made. The windows of the 
 two rooms, which were on the f rst floor, looked 
 upon a small cuurt.yard entirely surrounded by tho 
 high buildings forming the Prefecture of Police j 
 
 to i 
 
 tro . 
 
 vard 
 
 sentinel was pacing, the moonlight gleaming on 
 the point of his fixed bayonet. 
 
 " As it is peKectly necessary to retain pri 
 eoners here for a few hours," said the footman 
 still speaking in the same conversational yet re 
 spectful manner as before, " the presence of a sen 
 tinel «ith loaded musket is only a wise preeau 
 tiou ; for it is not always that we have to deal 
 with a gentleman like you, Si.:;nor." 
 
 Silvio made no response : and the domestic 
 closed the casement, satisfied at having in as 
 lieate a manner as possible shown the captive 
 madness of attempting an escape. 
 
 '■ Do you require anything more. Signer?" asked 
 tho footman, glancing at the Iray upon the table 
 to assure himself that everything requisite for a 
 good supper was there provided. 
 
 " Kothing," answered the Viscount, without so 
 much as flinging another regard upon those pre- 
 parations. 
 
 The footman bowed and withdrew, closing tho 
 door behind him. No sound was heard of either 
 key turning in the lock or of bolt being shot into 
 its socket: yet Silvio knew full well that eveu if 
 such precautions as these had not been taken to 
 ensure his safe custody, it was only because they 
 were renderi'd needless by tho existence of other 
 barriers against an escape. He flung himself upon 
 seat and plunged into his gloomy reflections, 
 
 "Now," he thought within himself, "atu I more 
 than ever a vil'ain ! — a villain of the deepest dye! 
 tented with being the seducer of my 
 father's wife, I have agreed to betray that unfor- 
 tunate sire of mine to the scaS'old! Aio I not a 
 oonster? Just heaven! does tby vengeance 
 leep while such deeds as these are done ? Hast 
 hou no lightnings wherewith to blast the parri- 
 ide .° — hast thou no thuudcrs wherewith to strike 
 him down ere the fulness of his iniquity be con- 
 ed? Oh! I dare not lilt my hand to my 
 for something is burning Mei-e- and I 
 dread lest my fingers should encounter the brand 
 of Cain thereupon ! Wretch, wretch that I am ! 
 power of retreating ? can 1 not yet re. 
 pent and make atonement?" 
 
 But this paroxysm of anguish passed away— 
 or, we should rather say, was absorbed in the in- 
 tense selfishness of the young man's nature, which 
 again asserted its empire. He persuaded himself 
 that he had gone too far to retreat, and that the
 
 2C3 
 
 !E3; OE, BEACIT AKD PLEA9CKE. 
 
 »iep he had promised to take was the only one 
 which could possibly secure to bim the paternal 
 estates, and save bim from becoming an outcast, a 
 wanderer, and a beggar upon the face of the 
 earth. 
 
 He had started from his seat in the midst of 
 that paroxysm : he now resumed it— and perceir- 
 ing the wine upoo the table, he filled a large glass 
 to the brim. The contetts hissed as they were 
 poured down his parched throat,— hissed as if 
 passing over red*hot iron ! Then he again plunged 
 into meditation : but he was now exerting all his 
 powers of sophistry to persuade himself that he 
 was adopting the only course which circumstances 
 had left open. When the guilty mind is thus 
 bent on the consummation of its iniquity, it is 
 only, alas! too easy to conjure up arguments to 
 impel it in its career and to harden it while pur- 
 suing that path. So was it now with the Vis- 
 count of Camerino. 
 
 An hour passed : he looked at his watch— it was 
 I close upon ten o'clock. He bad not the slightest 
 I inclinatioQ to retire to rest. Sleep .^ no! — bar- 
 I dened though his heart were, to slumber was im- 
 possible. How was he to pass the long dreary 
 night ? The fire which had been burning brightly 
 in the grate when he was first shown to that room, 
 was now extinguishing: but there was an ample 
 supply of fuel — and Silvio piled it half-way up the 
 chimney, for he needed every accessory to gire 
 cheerfulness to the scene and to dispel the cold 
 which had gathered around bis heart. He drank 
 another deep draught of wine : he paced to and 
 fro in the room. Ah I there were books upon a 
 shelf- He examined them :— there were novels, 
 romances, poems, and historical works. He took 
 down a volume, but he could not settle himself to 
 read it. He passed into the bedchamber— he 
 threw himself upon the couch : ha was restless- 
 he could not remain there. He rose, and returned 
 to the sitting-room : the monotonous tread of the 
 sentinel in the court-yard below was the only 
 sound which broke the silence that environed 
 bim. In this silence there was something awful. 
 Suddenly he was seized with curiosity to ascertain 
 I whether the door of the apartment was really fas- 
 tened. Gently he tried it ; and he found that it 
 was. He went back to his seat ; and as he sat 
 I gazing upon the fire, he bethought himself of the 
 I beautiful face which he had seen peep from behind 
 i the curtain in the ilinister's cabinet. Who could 
 the lady be? She was young, and, as we have 
 I said, exceedingly handsome. Perhaps the Minis- 
 I ter's daughter ? Silvio wondered whether, if this 
 i were the case, she ever took compassion upon the 
 j prisoners who might be temporarily retained within 
 those walls, or whether her heart partook of the 
 hardness of her father's ? 
 I In order that the reader may properly under- 
 ! stand the incident which we are about to describe, 
 ' we must explain that Silvio was now seated exactly 
 in front of the fire, at a distance of about half-a- 
 dozen paces from it. On each side of the project- 
 ing chimney there was a recess :— one of these 
 I recesses contained some article of furniture: in 
 the other there was nothing. Silvio was thinking 
 of the beautiful countenance he had seen for an 
 iijstant in the Minister's cabinet — bis eyes were 
 riveted upon the fire : but something— perhaps a 
 •light louDd— perhaps ■ partial glimpse of the cb- 
 
 He 
 
 ject that was appearing — caused him 
 regards abruptly towards that empty 
 sprang up from his seat: the beautiful i 
 was there before him ! 
 
 That recess contained a private door 00 admi* 
 rably fitted into its setting that when it was shut 
 no sign of its existence was visible to any one 
 within that room, r^ow that door stood open^ 
 and a young lady, elegantly dressed, appeared 
 upon the threshold. That face, with its luminous 
 black eyes— its red lips— and shaded by floating 
 masses of raven hair, was the same that was al- 
 ready hovering in his memory. She made a sign 
 for him to be silent, and then beckoned bim Co 
 follow her. He obeyed in a species of rapturous 
 bewilderment as to what all this could be,— a be. 
 wilderment so great that it absorbed all the painful 
 ideas that had been recently occupying him. That 
 secret door communicated with an adjoining well- 
 furnished apartment, at the extremity of which 
 there was another secret door : and then there was 
 another handsomely appointed room. There the 
 lady indicated a seat ; and placing herself on aa 
 ottoman close by, she looked bashfully at Silvio as 
 if half afraid of what she bad done. As she had 
 led the way into that room, he was struck by the 
 faultless symmetry of her somewhat voluptuously 
 rounded form : he caught a gimpse of a pair of 
 admirably modelled ankles ; and as her arms were 
 bare to the shoulders, he failed not to observe that 
 they also were of fine sculptural proportions. 
 Altogether she was a being on whom in any cir- 
 cumstances it was impossible to gaze without • 
 feeling of rapture : while the adventure itself was 
 full well calculated to excite the liveliest interest 
 in the soul of the young nobleman. Ginevra was 
 exquisitely beautiful ; but she was not so hand- 
 some as the lady in whose presence he now found 
 himself. 
 
 Addressing him in French, she said, " Do job. 
 speak this language ?" 
 
 " I do," he responded— for indeed he spoke it 
 fluently. " You are not, then, an Italian lady ?" 
 he added, wondering who she could possibly be ; 
 for of course he was now convinced that she was 
 not the Minister's daughter. 
 
 " No— I am not an Italian," she replied ; " and 
 you who speak French better than I, must have 
 seen also that I am not a native of France. No 
 
 matter what my country is 1 am a stranger — 
 
 a foreigner." 
 
 " And yet, beautiful lady," said Silvio, " yoa 
 have taken compassion on the unfortunate Italiaa 
 captive !" 
 
 She blushed— hesitated for a moment — and then 
 said, " Yes, I have taken compassion upon you ; 
 for without knowing of what you are accused— 
 without even being aware of a single particular 
 regarding you — I thought it cruel that one so 
 young should already be acquainted with misfor- 
 
 "A thousand thanks, lady, for this sympathy 
 which you demonstrate towards me '." and Silvio 
 seized her hasd which he pressed rapturously for 
 a moment— but the next instant it was withdrawn. 
 " Who are you ? tell me who you are !— for in 
 a place which one might fancy only to be peopled 
 with demons in a human form, it is as marvel- 
 lous as it is delightful to encounter an angel, 
 presence !"
 
 The lady smiled and blushed as she said, " I 
 have already told you that 1 am a native of a 
 foreign far-off land; and you may know me by 
 the name of Ciprina. Precisely one week have I 
 been within these walls ; and I pant for my 
 liberty !" 
 
 " What, then, lady !" exclaimed Silvio in asto- 
 nishment, " are you also a prisoner ? And yet 
 you are acquainted with these secret doors — you 
 are initiated in the mysteries of this prison- 
 
 " You see that it is so," rejoined Ciprina. 
 
 "The name you bear is Italian," cried Silvio, 
 still wrapped in astonishment; "but in one sense 
 does it most admirably become you— for it is the 
 name of Venus the Goddess of Beauty !" 
 
 " Yet deem not," said Ciprina hastily, " that to 
 my own vanity or conceit am I indebted for this 
 name : it was bestowed by him who caused me to 
 be brought hither." 
 
 "And who was he?" asked Silvio, while he 
 still continued to gaze with rapture upon the 
 'beautiful creature before him. " Was it " 
 
 " Of that no matter— at least for the present," 
 ehe answered. "Let us speak of yourself. Tell 
 me who you are, and of everything that concerns 
 you." 
 
 At that moment a sudden suspicion flashed 
 into the mind of the Viscount of Camerino. He 
 knew with what subtle, stealthy, insidious agencies 
 the purposes of the Neapolitan police were often 
 worked out : in the circumstances of his own 
 position and that of bis father he had already ex- 
 perienced the most signal proof of the unscrupu- 
 lous means thus adopted. What if this lady were 
 a spy employing her siren wiles to fathom the 
 secrets of his soul, and to ascertain for the 
 Minister the nature of the thoughts that he might 
 now harbour in respect to the compact he had 
 made and the pledge he had given ? All the mis- 
 trust which was thus suddenly excited in his 
 mind, was betrayed by his countenance as he gazed 
 npon the beautiful face before him. Ciprina in- 
 stantaneously comprehended what was thus pass- 
 ing in his thoughts— for her cheeks flushed with a 
 sudden indignation ; and rising from her seat, she 
 said, " Return, sir, to your own apartment— forget 
 the indiscretion which I have committed — and if 
 you be a man of honour, as I at first hoped and 
 believed that you were, you will spare me the con- 
 sequences that would probably ensue from a be. 
 trayal of this proceeding on my part !" 
 
 Silvio fell at her feet entreating her pardon. 
 
 " Forgive me, beautiful Ciprina !" he said ; " for- 
 give me for the moment's suspicion with which I 
 have so foully wronged you ! But when a man 
 enters within the walls of this edifice, his entire 
 nature seems to change— he grows mistrustful of 
 every one — and if an angel were to present her- 
 self, as it now happens to me, he would for an in- 
 stant dread lest it were a celestial shape worn only 
 to conceal the demon hearc within I" 
 
 "Rise, sir— rise," said Ciprina, now speaking 
 more kindly. " I make allowances for you— and 1 
 forgive you." 
 
 As Silvio rose from his suppliant posture and 
 resumed his seat, the lady took her own place upon 
 the ottoman, saying, " It was indeed only tou 
 natural that you should be mistrustful of anything 
 Which happens within these walls. I s«e that in- 
 
 T AKD PLEASUEE. 2&9 
 
 stead of in the first instance seeking explanations 
 from your lips, 1 ought to have commenced them 
 on my own account in order to inspire you with 
 confidence. But yet there is one question you 
 must answer me. Tell me — of what are you ac- 
 cused ? for I cannot bring myself to think that it 
 is of aught that you need blush to own." 
 
 " No, lady," responded Silvio : " it is a political 
 charge that is brought against me." 
 
 " I thought so," she exclaimed; "and hence the 
 observance of so much mystery ! Believe me, sir, 
 if such had not from the very first been my im- 
 pression, I should not have displayed any sym- 
 pathy on your behalf— I should not have sought 
 you in your room — nor would you be here in con- 
 versation with me. But now let me say a few 
 words in reference to myself." 
 
 "Beautiful Ciprina," exclaimed Silvio, "if your 
 object be to inspire me with confidence it is unne- 
 cessary ; for Oh ! I already deeply, deeply regret 
 the mistrust which for an instant I displayed. But 
 if you choose to satisfy the fervent and sympathiz- 
 ing curiosity which I feel to learn how you, fair 
 stranger, can be a prisoner within the walls of the 
 Neapolitan Prefecture, I shall listen with the pro- 
 foundest interest." 
 
 " Listen then," she responded, with a sweet 
 smile, which revealed her p?arly teeth. "It was 
 precisely a week ago that I was about to leave 
 Naples. For certain reasons, which I cannot now 
 pause to explain, it suited me to travel alone. 
 Having taken my seat in the postchaise which I 
 thought was to bear me away from this city, I was 
 thinking of a variety of subjects, when the equi- 
 poge all of a sudden diverged from the street 
 which it was threading, and turned in under a 
 gloomy archway. It entered a court-yard ; and the 
 gates of the archway were closed. You may easily 
 imagine that I was frightened by this circum- 
 stance : it seemed all the more alarming because 
 it was 80 unaccountable. The door of the chaise 
 was quickly opened, and an elderly gentleman 
 courteously requested me to alight. I obeyed— 
 for I felt that I was completely in the power of 
 those mysterious hands into which I had fallen, 
 or into which I was treacherously betrayed. The 
 gentleman desired me to follow him ; and he led 
 the way up to this apartment. Here he announced 
 himself to be the Chief of the Police. Conscious 
 of having done nothing to entauijle me in the 
 meshes of the law, I took courage and demanded 
 by what right my liberty was thus violated. The 
 Chief of the Police speedily explained himself : he 
 used but little circumlocution— he came quickly 
 to the point. He had seen me before— he had 
 become enamoured of me : as Chief of the Police 
 he knew as much as it was possible to be known 
 in Naples concerning mo; and as a matter of 
 course he was cognizant of the fact that my 
 passport was countersigned for departure from 
 Naples. Determined to have an interview with 
 me, he had adopted the means to procure it which 
 I have already explained : for it appears, sir," 
 added Ciprina with a smile, " that persons in 
 authority may now do anything in this country, 
 whereas I can assure you that in my own native 
 land it is very different !" 
 
 " And what followed, beauteous lady ?" asked 
 the Viscount. 
 
 ' The Chief of the Police proceeded in a very
 
 ACSES; OB, BEAUir AKT) PLEASUBE. 
 
 business-liko etjle," reeumed C'iprina, '• to make 
 me aware of the position ia which 1 now found 
 mjself placed bv tha whim which he had conceived 
 or the passion which had inBimed him— for it 
 would be a desecration of the name of lot>e to use 
 the term in this eense. He asked me if I would 
 
 agree to live with him as his mistress " 
 
 " Ah, the monster !" ej iculated Silrio : " he 
 dared thus arail himself of bis power and autho- 
 litT to insult jou ?" 
 
 " Interrupt me not," said Ciprioa, with another 
 good-tempered smile ; " or 1 shall never make an 
 end of my narrative. Yes— such was the pro- 
 posal which emanated from the lips of the Minis- 
 ter of Pulice. I can assure you that I was no 
 longer i'lmvi and frightened : 1 saw precisely bow 
 I was situated ; and I calmly iuquired what he 
 would do if I rejected his overture ? It was still 
 as if be were dealing with a mere matter of police- 
 busioess that he answered me. He said that ia 
 the unsettled state of Neapolitan afTairs it was ab- 
 eolutely necessary to keep a vigilant eye upon all 
 foreigners, male and female, who visited the king- 
 dom without any apparent object : he significantly 
 j hinted thai he, the Chief of the Police, was vested 
 ' with full discretionary powers in such matters, 
 and that the doors of the most loathsome dun- 
 geons opened to receive captives at his bidding. 
 But on the other band he was equally precise in 
 his assurances of kindness and liberality if my 
 j answer should prove favourable. What could I 
 ' do, sir ? You see that I am dealing very frankly 
 i with you— I am giving you my confidence that I 
 I may in turn receive yours : and the truth is that 
 I became the mistress of the Ciiief of the Police !" 
 " Is this possible ?" exclaimed Silvio, who could 
 ECarcely in his own mind realize the idea that one 
 so young and exceedingly beautiful could have 
 thrown herself into the arms of that ill-looking 
 \ man of fifty years of age. 
 
 i " It has happened !" responded Ciprina. " Do 
 not blame me— do not let me sufiTer ia your esti- 
 mation : I yielied only to the necessity of my 
 position. Think you that it was better to accept 
 the alternative of a loathsome dungeon or to yield 
 to the overtures of that man? Eeally I had not 
 the courage to adopt the former; and therefore I 
 chose the latter alternative. As I informed you 
 at the outset, the Minister bestowed upon me the 
 Christian name by which I have desired you to 
 address me ; for after everything which has hap- 
 pened, my own real name— the name which I bore 
 in my native land and which was mine when I set 
 foot on the Italian shore— must be for ever aban- 
 doned ! E.-hold me installed beneath this roof— 
 the occupr.nt of a suihptuous suite of apartments 
 — with troops of domestics to do my bidding in 
 all things except to give me freedom " 
 
 " And why does the Minister retain yoa a cap- 
 tive ?" asked Silvio. 
 
 "Because I have as yet been but one week 
 beneath this loof," answered Ciprina : "I came 
 not hither of my own accord— 1 accepted not my 
 position willingly— and therefore the Minister 
 rightly conceives that I should avail myself of the 
 first opportunity to flee hence. Perhaps he sup. 
 poses that by detaining me for a few weeks or a 
 few months in my gilded cage— by surrounding 
 me with luxuries- by lavishing upon me the cost- 
 licat gifts— and by means of every art with which 
 
 men invarijtly seek to ensure the fidelity of their 
 mistresses who are younger than themselves, I 
 aball become reconciled to my position and shall 
 willingly occupy n town mansion or a suburbaa 
 villa without the least inclination to flee away 
 from the protection which has been forced upon 
 me. But the Minister is mistaken! I loathe 
 this gilded cage : I pant for freedom. Already 
 have 1 revolved a thousand plans in my mind : 
 at length I have settled my thoughts upon 
 one which seems feasible— nay more, it is even 
 certain of success ! But in its executioa I 
 require an assistant ; and if your own circam- 
 stances be such " 
 
 "Tell me, beautiful Ciprina," said Silvio, "how 
 came you to be acquainted with the mysteries of 
 these concealed door3 ? — for surely the Minister 
 himself would not initiate you into such secrete." 
 
 " No," rejoined Ciprina : and then she added 
 with an arch smile, '■ But what if the maid who 
 has been assigned to my special personal service, 
 has conceived an affection for me — what if she be 
 devoted to my iaterests " 
 
 " Ah ! this I can easily comprehend," ejaculated 
 Silvio ; " for it is ioipossibte to be even a few mi- 
 nutes in your society without experiencing an 
 interest in your beiialf !*' 
 
 " Fidelia — this maid of whom I speak," con- 
 tinued Ciprina, "is the daughter of one of the 
 officials belonging to the establishment. She has 
 dwelt beneath this roof almost from her infancy; 
 and she is acquainted with many of its mysteries. 
 There are secret doors for various purposes. For 
 instance, if it suit the Chief of the Police to visit 
 a particular prisoner under circumstances of the 
 utmost secrecy, the turnkey need not be appealed 
 to to open the door of the room in which such cap- 
 tive is confined : the Minister has the private door 
 whereby he can seek access to the interior of that 
 apartment. And then too for all purposes of es- 
 pial—and likewise to listen to the conversation of 
 two or more captives who may be placed together 
 in the same room — or for the more convenient 
 removal of a prisoner in the dead of night to 
 the carriage in the courtyard which is to convey 
 him to a fortress where eternal captivity is to be 
 his doom and where he is to be consigned to an 
 almost utter oblivion,— in a word, for all the thou- 
 sand purposes which have to be answered in this 
 dread establishment, you can easily conjecture 
 how secret doors, secret passages, and secret stair- 
 cases are absolutely necessary ! Fidelia is ac- 
 quainted with many of these mysteries; and she 
 has communicated them to me. You perceive," 
 continued Ciprina, with another of her sweet 
 smiles, " that this knowledge has already proved 
 useful, inasmuch as it has enabled me to commu- 
 nicate with you ; and if, as I presume, you would 
 avail yourself of the chances of escape for 
 what prisoner would refuse them?— this know- 
 ledge of mine may be still further utilized." 
 
 " 'Vas it by acciJent, beautiful Ciprina," asked 
 Silvio, " that you peeped into the Minister's cabi- 
 
 " Entirely by accident," she responded. '• I am 
 permitted access thither at any liuie that I may 
 wish to communicate with his lordship. He enter- 
 tains company this evening in his state-saloons; 
 but be informed me that there would be an hour 
 when he would withdraw from his guests to glanea
 
 AOSE3; OK, BEACIT 
 
 :71 
 
 ftn eye ovpr whatsoever despfttches raight deraaod 
 bis immeHiate attentioo. Now, I will tell jou 
 candldiv, sir, that for the last day or two I have 
 been plaviog a game of dissimulation with the 
 MioisCer. I have pretended to be touched by his 
 attentions— to be moved by his endeavours to ren- 
 der my position a happy one in pliort, I have 
 
 sutTered him to believe that it is quite possible I 
 can love him. Eeen, shrewd, suspicious, and 
 Dcistruatful as on all other ptiuls ho may be, yet 
 in this one senfo he is hke every other man- 
 credulous in respect to llie bland assurances which 
 are breathed from woman's lips. I need hardly 
 inform you that this game of dissimulation 1 had 
 entered up"n in the h.jpe of abridjjin^ the term of 
 u»y captivity, and of inducing hira to provide roe 
 with an abode outside the walls and where I might 
 be my own mistress. But I am extending my 
 narrative to a much greater length than I had at 
 first anticipated " 
 
 "Tou were about to tell me, beautiful Ciprinn," 
 said Silvio, " bow it happened that you suddenly 
 passed into the cabinet ?" 
 
 "Ah! true," eiclaimed (be lady. "Well then, as 
 1 have already said, the Minister had informed me 
 that be should be compelled to leave his state, 
 saloons for an hour and seek that cabinet. I un> 
 deistood his meaning : it was an intimation that 
 he would take it kind on my part, and regard it 
 as a proof of affection, if 1 would bestow a few 
 minutes of my society upon him there, as a relax- 
 ation for him amidst the cares of business as well 
 as an agreeable change from the formal ceremonies ' 
 of his brilliant saloons. True, therefore, to my 
 plan of dissimulation, I repaired to the cabinet : I 
 wae entering it when 1 beheld a stranger there. 
 That stranger was yourself. I instantaneously with- 
 drew: but I will confess that on behohiing one so 
 young I was smitten with a feeling of interest— I 
 wondered what offence could be laid to your charge 
 — and 1 shuddered as 1 rellected that the cabinet 
 where I beheld you, was too often the avenue to a 
 fortress and a dungeon !" ' 
 
 " But how did you know that I was a prisoner .''" 
 inquired Silvio. 
 
 "I suspected it from the attitude in which you 
 were standing, and from the look of mingled gloom 
 and despair which I surprised upon your coun- 
 tenance at the moment you glanced up towards 
 me. On returning to my apartment, I bade 
 Fidelia make icquiries : and she did so. She 
 could however ascertain nothing beyond the fact 
 that you were a prisoner, and that you had been 
 consigned to a particular room : nothing more 
 could she learn— no, not even your name ! I de- 
 liberated with myself whether I should yield to 
 the feeling of interest which had taken possession 
 
 of me ; and— you know the result. I have 
 
 now given you my complete confidence— I have 
 
 disguised nothing from you not even my 
 
 shame !" 
 
 ith what feeiings 
 He was at first 
 indignant at the idea tliat the Chief of Police | 
 should avail himself of his power and authority 
 to make certain overtures to the lady, and by ter- t 
 ronsm seek to enforce tbem : but he nad expected I 
 to hear from her lips that she had rejected them i 
 with scorn, and that she was punished by captivity I 
 until she should yield an assen*. When, however i 
 
 informed that s 
 
 had at once sui-ciirobed 
 and that s!io was the misiress of the Minister, all 
 his original suspicions llimed up anew in his 
 
 j mind. It was under the infliienon (.f those sus- 
 picions that he had so closely questioned her upoa 
 
 [ all the various points of her conduct ; and the an- 
 swers were readily given to his queries. Indeed, 
 there was alto^tetlier a sincerity about Cipnna 
 which banisheil those suspicious; and moreover, 
 as Silvio reflected upon everything that he heard, 
 ho said to himself, '■ The very can lour of her 
 avowal that she has become tho .Minister's mis- 
 tress is a proof that sho is n.it dealing falsely 
 with me ! If she were merely acting as his spy, 
 she would have pursued a different course— she 
 would afTect rage, hatred, and bitterness towards 
 him, in order the more completely to throw me 
 off my guard : whereas her laugu.ige has been 
 moderate, and she has assumed no unnecessary 
 vehemence nor passion," 
 
 The result, therefore, of Ciprina's revealings 
 was to win the entire confidence of the Viscount 
 of Caraerino. But now be asked himself whether 
 his acquaintance with this lady would prove of 
 any service to him ? Did he wish to escape ? or 
 would he rather remain for a few hours longer 
 a captive within those walls, and emancipate him- 
 self on the morrow by the fulfilment of his bar- 
 gain with the Chief of the Police ? He hastily 
 reviewed the circumstances of his position and 
 the various influences wjich he deemed it requisite 
 to envisage, to calculate, and to study, 
 
 " If I remain," ho said to himself, " I must 
 fulfil my compact and belray my father to the 
 scalTold. But in so d.iing I shall ensure for my- 
 self the heritage of his estates. On the other 
 hand, if through Ciprina's assistance I escipe, 
 1 shall avoid the fearful crime of parricide — 
 though I may be leaving my sire in a position to 
 discover the fearful secret of my illicit amour with 
 Ginevra, the result of which discovery would be 
 my inevitable disinheritance. But Ah ! if I were 
 to escape, might I not warn my father of the fact 
 that his presence in Naples is known? would he 
 not at once flee? — and then, if Ginevra, yielding 
 to T)e Vere's advice, would immure herself for the 
 remainder of her existence in a convent, the dread 
 secret of my guilt might escape deteciion on the 
 part of my sire ! At all events it were better for 
 mo to avoid the alternative of the hideous crime 
 which was ere now contemplated, and leave all the 
 
 Such was the conclusion to which Silvio came 
 after a few moments of reflection. Ciprina saw 
 that he was meditating : but very far was she 
 frotn comprehending the painful nature and ex- 
 citing subject of his thoughts :— she fancied that 
 he was revolving in his mind the explanations that 
 he had received from her lips and the amount of 
 confidence wliich he might repose in her. 
 
 " Beautiful lady," he at length said, " I now 
 owe you those avowals which your own, so gene- 
 rously and so freely made, reciprocaiiy demand. I 
 am the Viscount SiUio of Camerino : I was en- 
 gaged in the great conspiracy which exploded at 
 the commencement of tuo present year : I fled at 
 the time, and my name was inserted in the list of 
 political proscriptions. Recently I came to Naples 
 in disguise, for certain purposes: -to night I was 
 discovered and arretted. Show me the means of
 
 272 
 
 OK, BEAUTT 
 
 PLKiSUEB. 
 
 a pair of green spectacles, and bis hair «a$ cat 
 quite close. The eerrioe was alreadj being per- 
 formed: there was a email congregation present; 
 and on one of the chairs in the front row, Ginerra 
 was kneeling. The individual to whom we hare 
 just referred, satisBed himself bv a glance that she 
 ' Nothing," answered Ciprina, with downcast , was present ; and with noiseless steps he proceeded 
 ejes and with a blush mantling on her cheeks. \ to the vestiary. Here he found a young priest 
 " We will escape. Viscount !— but it cannot be until , seated, reading some religious book : but he imme- 
 diately rose as the visitor made his appearance. 
 The young priest wae Father f alconara. 
 I " My lord." he said, with anxiety depicted in 
 bis countenance, " is it possible that you are really 
 incurring these fearful risks ? I could scarcely 
 believe Nino Corso when he came to me this morn- 
 
 " Xevertbeless, my dear young friend," inter- 
 rupted the Count of Camerino — for he indeed was 
 the tall individual disguised in the ecclesiastical 
 costume, — "you see that the faithful Nino did not 
 deceive you : for 1 am here punctual to the ap- 
 ' pointment which through him 1 made with you. 
 I But look, and tell me— ia not this disguise com- 
 I plete ?" 
 
 I Father Falconara had been already rapidly and 
 aniiously surveying the Count of Camerino's ap- 
 pearance ; and he said, " If Nino Corso had not 
 told me in what disguise you were coming — and if 
 this punctuality to the very instant bad not proved 
 that it was really you — moreover, if on crossing 
 i the threshold you had not at once made the secret 
 ' sign,— I should have looked upon you as a atranger 
 ■ whom I had never seen before. The disguise is 
 ! indeed complete !" 
 
 " I knew it was so," said the Count. " With 
 whiskers, beard, and moustache shaven ofif'-witb 
 I my hair cut close— with these green spectacles— 
 and in this priestly garb, I was assured by Nino 
 I that 1 might pass amongst my own most familiar 
 I friends without being ret-ognised." 
 I " But your object in Naples, my dear Count f" 
 , said Father Falconara ; " ia it in the desperate 
 
 , hope " 
 
 " Whatever it be, my young friend," inter- 
 i rupted the Count, " I seek not again to involve 
 I you in any of the perils which you have once so 
 I narrowly escaped 1" 
 
 An expression of joy appeared upon the Data- 
 I rally pale face and previously anxious countenance 
 I of the priest, as he fervently exclaimed, " Heaven 
 I be thanked ! You know, my lord," he went on to 
 j say, " that when I was at the University, I and 
 I other students bound ourselves by a most solemn 
 oath to obey the mandates of our political leaders ; 
 and 1 believe you will admit that in the conspiracy 
 which 80 fatally exploded, I performed my duty. 
 I was fortunate enough to remain undiscovered 
 I and unsuspected. But I have since meditated 
 deeply and painfully upon all those things. I am 
 still the fervid patriot that I ever was : but I feel 
 that my position as an ecclesiastic and a minister 
 of the Gospel is utterly incompatible with that of 
 
 the member of a secret society -" 
 
 '■ And I tell you, my young friend," answered 
 the Count of Camerino, " tbat I seek you not now 
 for the purpose of enlisting your services in re- 
 newed struggles for the emancipation of our be. 
 loved Italy." 
 
 " Nevertheless, my lord," rejoined Father Fal- 
 conara, " you must not deem me a recreant or ft 
 
 escape— and I will faithfully succour you in carry- 
 ing them out. Should we succeed, lady," he 
 added, with a tender look, at the same time taking 
 her liaod, "you may command my lasting grati- 
 tude—my devotion- my love 1 What more can I 
 say r" 
 
 "Not until to-morrow night.'" echoed Silvio, a 
 shade of disappointment suddenly coming over bis 
 countenance. 
 
 " No, it is impossible !" she rejoined, with an 
 air of anxiety and concern. " But what is it that 
 you fear? what do you apprehend? Think you 
 that in the meantime the order for your removal 
 may be issued ?" 
 
 '• It is this that I fear," answered S-lvio : but 
 after a few moments' reflection, he exclaimed, 
 "Yet it is possible that I may be enabled to pro- 
 cure a delsy ! Certain proposals have been made 
 to me " 
 
 " For heaven's sake do whatever you can— strain 
 every nerve " ;atcriected Ciprina, " to procure this 
 delay ! You see how much depends upon it ! 
 There are arrangements to make— I must deliberate 
 with Fidelia " 
 
 " Are you well assured, lady, that she is not a 
 traitress and a spy ?— ere you confident that she 
 will not betray you ?" demanded the Viscount. 
 
 " I feel convinced that I can trust her! She 
 has already agreed to assist me — for she has sti- 
 pulated that I take her away with me. Her father 
 is harsh and stern towards her— she loathes the 
 gloomy existence which she habitually leads within 
 these walls : in a word, Viscount, i can depend 
 upon her sincerity. Let not this idea trouble 
 you. Do you perform your part ; and I will 
 accomplish mine." 
 
 "Be it so, beautiful Ciprina!" rejoined Silvio. 
 " I now hold myself entirely at your orders." 
 
 At this instant the door of the apartment 
 opened; and from an adjoining antechamber, a 
 young girl, who had been keeping watch there, 
 emerged. She was about seventeen, and singularly 
 beautiful. But the Viscount had not many mo- 
 Tnenta to contemplate her; for her sudden appear- 
 ance was a signal that he must retire to bis own 
 apartment. Ciprina hastily conducted him thither, 
 opening the secret doors by some means which he 
 could not discern ; and as he crossed the threshold 
 of bis own room, she gave him her hand for a 
 moment. He pressed it to his lips : the secret 
 door then closed upon bim— and he was once more 
 atone in his prison apartment, feeling as if all that 
 had taken place within the last hour was a dream 
 Crom which he had just awakened. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 IHB HUSBAND XND WIIB. 
 
 It was in the forenoon of the day following the 
 incidents which we have been recording, that an 
 individual of fine tall form, and wearing a priest's 
 costume, entered the church which has been so 
 (requeutly mentioned in recent chapters. He wore
 
 bftckbtU?r I Mj political faith is atill as strong as 
 my religious creed: but no man can serve two 
 masters — and it is my duty to hold unto the latter 
 alone ! I have a deep and imperishable sense of 
 all the oblifrations which I owe your lordship : — 
 to you am 1 indebted for the bread which in my 
 youthful years I ate, as well as for the education 
 which prepared me fur the priesthood " 
 
 " Sp^ak nut nf all this, my young friend !" said 
 the Count. *' Were you not the orphan son of my 
 old patriot friend? — and when your father lay 
 upon his death bed, did I not pledge myself to 
 take charge of your welfare ? No more therefore 
 upon that point ! It is no political service which 
 I now demand of you : but there is anuther ser- 
 viee which you can render me •" 
 
 "Name it, my lord!" said the youu^ priest, 
 with all the enthusiasm of a graieful heart; "and 
 ycu shall see how readily 1 mil perform it. But, 
 Ko. 35.— Agnes. 
 
 . wu . it grieves me to observe the look of car© j 
 ' ! which is upon your countenance— that expression 
 of suffering which has just swept over your fea- I 
 
 " I have indeed suffered much," responded the 
 Count of Cimerioo, in a deep sombre voice, — '* nofc 
 merely for my country's sake— not merely as an 
 exile from my native land— but — but — otherwise, 
 my young friend — in my domestic circum- 
 
 " My lord, what mean you ?" asked Falconara, 
 with a louk of the most unfeigned astonishment. 
 
 "Spare me the pain of explanations," said the 
 Count; '* and suffer me to demand at your hands 
 the service I require without entering into those 
 particulars which will unly probe the wounds that 
 are still fresh and bleeding in my heart !" 
 
 The young priest gnzed with the deepest sorrow 
 upon the countenance of his benelactor : but b9
 
 AGSEB; 0£, I>£AlIIr AND FLEXSDSB. 
 
 •yoke not — he prepared to listen in silence to 
 vbatgcev^r the nubleman inight be about to com- 
 
 •' It lias come to my knowledge," proceeded the 
 Count of Camerino, " that jou will be presently 
 summoned to the confessional to receive the 
 avowals of siu from the lips of a penitent '* 
 
 " I have olready received a note, my lord," re- 
 plied Father Falconara, " from one in whom you 
 are deeply interested, desiring me to attend in the 
 confessional within a few minutes of the hour of 
 noon : but it is utterly impossible that from her 
 lips " 
 
 " Yes— it is from her lips," interrupted the 
 Count, with features indescribably sombre in 
 their expression, — "yes, it is from the lips of 
 Ginevra " 
 
 " My lord ?" — and the young priest stopped 
 sborr, aghast and confounded. 
 
 " I\ow, now you know the secret of my suffer- 
 ings I" esclaitned the nobleman : " you have fa- 
 thomed the mystery of the horrible tortures which 
 I am enduring ! Ob ! my young friend, blessed 
 are you in the celibacy of the priesthood, to be 
 exempt from the possibility of such fearful calami- 
 tisu as these 1 For what is more terrible than for 
 a husband to know that be is dishonoured " 
 
 " My lord f again said the young priest, with 
 the air of one who could not give credit to the 
 evidence of his own ears- 
 
 I " You will do this, my young friend ?" said the 
 Count earnestly : " it is the only boon I shall ever 
 ask you to grant ! If you owe me any debt ot 
 
 . gratitude, you will now be amply repaying it. 
 Kven though you be committing a sin, yet must 
 you thus sin for the sake of friendship and grati- 
 
 I tudt! Yes— you must make this sacriflce on my 
 account ?" 
 
 I " Y^>u gave me bread when without you T should 
 have starved," murmured the young priest; "you 
 became my friend when otherwise I should have 
 
 I been friendless — you gave me likewise the means 
 
 I of education which made mo what I am ! I owe 
 you everything— it is my very life therefore which 
 
 you — and you 
 
 nd me in 
 
 I tell 
 
 ^sumed the unhappy 
 before you the most 
 But lor heaven's 
 )n8— time is pass- 
 
 Diillcman ; "am 
 miiieruble wretch 
 silic drag me not into explam 
 iu;4— the hour is approaching' 
 
 •' What — what, my lord, can I do f" asked 
 Fiither Falconara, trembling from head to foot 
 «illj distress at what he heard, for he dearly loved 
 his benefactor. I 
 
 " Every point save one in Ginevra's guilty 
 eirctr is known unto mo," replied the Count; 
 hastily; "and that point must be cleared up. Tuere [ 
 is but one means — and that is through the con- 
 
 Falconara started : for a few moments he be- 
 came dreadfully perturbed — and he faltered forth, [ 
 '• Ko, no ! this I cannot do. Anything but i 
 tltiit, my lord ! Immense though my obligations 
 are towards you, yet the secrets of the confes- 
 BU'ual " 
 
 '■ X ask you not to betray them, my young 
 friend," replied the Count. " I know that they are 
 Eiurc'd when confided to the bosom of a priest; and 
 not for worlds would I ask you to violate that 1 
 sai'Ctity ! But in this instance it is not to a priest i 
 tbiit they are to be confided " j 
 
 "OU! vthat mean you, my lord?" said the 
 Irroibling Falconara. "I adjure you to relievo 
 mi- Irom this state of suspense !" 
 
 "In one word," responded the Count, "suffer 
 me to take your place at the confessional. This is 
 the boon which 1 demand !" 1 
 
 The young priest was standing at the time that 
 the request was thus put to h;m : but he suddenly 
 sank down upon his chair, as if overwhelmed by 
 feelings which struck him with the violence of a 
 blow. He gazed with a strange vacant look upon 
 the Count: for next to the betrayal of the secrets 
 of the confessional, the deed that he was asked to 
 perform was the most sacrilegious. 
 
 bings ! How would you have me act ?" 
 '■The guilty Ginevra will presently be in the 
 confessional," said the Cjunt : " proceed you 
 thither— devise some pretext for not performing 
 the holy ministrations — say that you are under a 
 
 penance -say anything I Y'ou best know what 
 
 excuse may be devieed in order to introduce me 
 as a priest in your place ? This is what I ask of 
 you." 
 
 Father Falconara glanced at a timepiece upon 
 the mantel, and said, " The service is nearly over— 
 the officiating priests will como hither to put off 
 their robes. Go you, my lord, and walk in Cbe 
 shade of the aisle until I rejoin you. Everything 
 
 I shall be done as you command But believe me 
 
 j — Oa! believe me, it is a very great sacrifice which 
 1 am making on your account!" 
 
 The nobleman wrung the young pricst*3 hand 
 and issued from the vestiary. Wuen Father Fal- 
 conara was alone, he clasped his bands, while a de- 
 epaiDing look flitted over his countenance; for he 
 felt as if he were standing on the threshold of a 
 sacrilegious crime. But composing his features as 
 well as he was able, and summoning alt his forti- 
 tude to his aid, he weut out of the vestiary. A 
 glance showed him the form of the Count slowly 
 proceeding amidst the gloom of the ncighbourtog 
 aijie — for it was a dark sombre day at that Christ- 
 mas season of the year. Tue service was juet con. 
 eluded — the congregation were quifing the church 
 —the priests who bad offieiuted were descending 
 from the altar. Another glauee showed Father 
 Falconara the veiled form of G.nevra passing 
 slowly towards the confessional} and it struck him 
 that she staggered in her walk as if under tiie in- 
 fluence of the most harrowing sensations. Father 
 Falconara purposely threw himself ia the way of 
 the two priests who were now approaching the 
 vestiary. They caught sight of the form in the 
 clerical garb that was pacing in the gloomy aisle; 
 and Father Falconara at once said, " Ke is a 
 friend of mine — a holy priest belonging to a vil- 
 lage in the neighbourhood." 
 
 The other two priests entered the vesti iry, put 
 off their robes, and shortly afterwards quitted the 
 church. Father Falconara breathed luoro freely 
 when they were gone; and he advanced towards 
 the confessional. Ginevra was kneeling in the 
 proper place: and the young priest lowered the 
 curtain in such a way as entirely to conceal 
 the entrance of the confessional and to render it 
 almost completely dark within. Taking his own 
 place on the opposite side of the lattice -barrier 
 Itiat separated him from the penitent, he began 
 speaking to her in the sense which the Count him-
 
 AONE3; OK, BEAUXr AND PLEASUEK. 
 
 275 
 
 Nlf suggested. He said that bing under a 
 penance enjoined liim by the Dean for some little 
 dereliction of duty of w bich he had been culpable, 
 he was not in a coudilion to receive her confession 
 nor to grant absolution. He went on to observe 
 that he had engaged the services of a reverend 
 pastor as a substitute ; and he eulogized the cha- 
 racter of the individual. Ginevra, whose mind was 
 made up to confess her guilt that day and ef- 
 fect imtaediate arrangements for retiring into a 
 convent, agreed to confess to the substitute 
 But she said to Father Falconarn, "There is 
 a boon that I had intended to solicit at your 
 bands, but which it was not my purpose to 
 explain until after my confession should have 
 been made. Existing circumstances however 
 force toe to espluin ic now. It is this,— that 
 you will couseut to become the trustee for 
 whatsoever little property I may be enabled to 
 dispose of, and that you will apportion it accord- 
 ing to the instructions I shall give. I am about 
 to abandon the world and seek the holy retire- 
 ment of a cloister. Half of the property to which 
 I have alluded, I bequeath to the convent which 
 I may thus enter :— in respect to tho other portion 
 I will give written instructions which shall be for- 
 warded to you. Do you consent to fulfil the 
 duties which I thus enjoin?" 
 
 " I consent," answered the young priest. " You 
 may command my services to any extent that is 
 consistent with my sacred position and my 
 duties." 
 
 Ginevra expressed her gratitude ; and Father 
 Falconara issued forth from the confessional. Has 
 tily rejoining the Count of Camerino, he gave him 
 the Dominican gown in which to mullle himself, 
 and which had a hood to draw over the head. 
 
 " Now go, my lord," be said ; " and as you ex- 
 pect mercy in heaven for whatsoever oflTences you 
 may have committed against its divine laws, I con- 
 jure you to have mercy upon your wife !" 
 
 The Count made no reply— but he proceeded 
 towards the confessional ; while the young priest 
 returned into the vestiary, in a half-stupified state 
 of mind, as if he were labouring under some awful 
 coDsteroation. 
 
 Meanwhile the Count of Camerino had passed 
 into the ooufeasional, taking care that the curtain 
 which be only disturbed for a moment, should 
 completely cLse the entrance as be had found it. 
 The hood of the Dominican garb was drawn so far 
 over his face as to shade it altogether; and as we 
 have before said, the interior of tho confessional 
 was itself involved in gloom. Thus, everything 
 considered, it was impossible for Ginevra to discern, 
 much less to recognise the countenance of the pre- 
 tended priest— especiftlly as if she looked at it at 
 all, it would be through the lattice-work of the 
 barrier. 
 
 There they were, the outraged husband and the 
 guilty wife, close together — almost in contact — 
 with naught but that barrier between them ! And 
 what a moment was it for the Count of Cameriao ! 
 She whom he had loved so tenderly — whom through 
 that very love he had raised from a comparatively 
 obscure position to be the partner of his rank and 
 wealth— she who had rewarded him with such per- 
 fidiousness — she, the guilty Ginevra, was there, 
 with scarcely the interval of a foot between them ! 
 He could bear ber sobs : but not more plainly 
 
 audible were they than the beatings of his own 
 heart. He could likewise hear her heavy tear- 
 dro{)s falling upon the projecting ledge placed for 
 the support of the huods when clasned in prayer. 
 Tho main circumstances of her gulls he already 
 knew: it was a name that ho wanted — the namo 
 of him who had been the partner of her iniquity! 
 It was not the intention of the Count to reveal 
 himself to Ginevra upon the present occasion: 
 but he required this name that be might wreak a 
 terrific vengeance on the author of his dishonour 
 — ^and afterwards it would be time enough to think 
 how he would deal with his wife. Perhaps ho 
 would remain altogether passive in that respect 
 until she should have sought a convent :— thither 
 ho might send a communication to the effect that 
 ho knew everything — and then he might leave her 
 to the horrors of her remorse, or to the conso. 
 lations of penitence for the remainder of her 
 days. 
 
 Ginevra, little suspecting that her own injurecj, 
 outraged husband was listening to the tale, begaa 
 in a broken voice to make the confession of ber 
 guilt. She mentioned who she was; for she not 
 merely presumed that Father Faloonara had re- 
 vealed this fact to him who was to be there as his 
 substitute — but she likewise deemed it her duty 
 to make her confession as perfect as possible, so 
 that her own self martyrdom might be all tho 
 greater. She spoke in the highest terms of her 
 husband — eulogized his character — praised th9 
 magnanimity of his disposition— and in that same 
 self-martyrising spirit exaggerated if possible bis 
 merits, so as to represent her own crime in all tho 
 blacker light. Then she proceeded to touch upon 
 the delicate ground. 
 
 " Alas, holy father I" she said, " notwithstanding 
 that I possessed this kind, this generous, this 
 noble-minded husband— notwithstanding that I 
 owed so immense a debt of gratitude to him who 
 had raised me up from comparative obscurity and 
 poverty to a position of rank and wealth— the 
 evil spirit had strong hold upon me, and I set at 
 naught all duties, all obligations ! There was ono 
 — a young man of handsome person and fascinat- 
 ing address— a young man who possessed every 
 quality calculated to win the female bearfc " 
 
 "And that young man, daughter?" said tho 
 Count, in a low feigned voice, and addressing the 
 penitent in the character of a holy father con- 
 fessor : " who was he ? what was his name ?" 
 
 "Oh! how can I tell you?" moaned the un- 
 happy lady ; " for it is this that constitutes the 
 horror of the crime that I have committed !" 
 
 " What mean you ?" asked the Count, strickca 
 with such feelings that be well-nigh forgot the 
 necessity to maintain the disguise of his voice : for 
 a vague and horrible suspicion had just smitten 
 his mind — and yet be put it from him with a re- 
 pelling violence, as a man would toss away a 
 noxious reptile. 
 
 " I mean, holy father," rejoined the guilty 
 Countess, " that my sin is of the deepest dye, be- 
 cause—because No, no! I cannot tell you!" 
 
 " Speak, daughter— speak !" said the Count, ia 
 a low hoarse voice, the peculiarity of which failed 
 to strike her only because she was so excruciated 
 by her own feelings. 
 
 " I feel, holy father," she murmured, in a broken 
 voice, " that I never, never can obtain absolution I
 
 276 
 
 AGSES; OB, BEACTT ASD PlBA3CnB. 
 
 —for the partner of my crime Ob, spare me, 
 
 holy father !" 
 
 " Speak, epeak !" the low hoarse voice again 
 said ; and the breath was hot with the feTer>beat 
 which coming from the Count's throat, passed 
 through the lattice-work. 
 
 " Yuu will think me the vilest of wretches, 
 holy father," faltered the miserable Countess, 
 " when I name him— when I tell you who was 
 the partner of my guilt Silvio — my husband's 
 
 A cry of horror burst from the Count's lips ; 
 and Ginevra started up with a faint half-etifled 
 
 " My God, have mercy upon me !" moaned the 
 wretched Count of Camerino, now speaking in his 
 own natural voice ; and then all was silent in that 
 compartment of the confessional where he was. 
 
 But Ginevra, half distracted— for she had only 
 too well recognised that voice — rushed forth from 
 her own compartment ; and in the wild anguish 
 of her mind she tore back the curtain. Her hus- 
 band had fainted : the spectacles had fallen off— 
 the cowl was thrown back from his head — she re- 
 cognised his features: if there had been a doubt 
 lingering in her mind, it was now horribly dis- 
 pelled. She was about to throw herself at his feet 
 and implore his pardon, forgetful that in that 
 state of unconsciousness he was unable to accord 
 it, — when suddenly impelled by another idea, she 
 rushed in frenzy away from the spot. Along the 
 aisle she sped : no stranger was in the church to 
 behold her — and she issued forth from the sacred 
 edifice. On the steps she met Charles De Vere. 
 
 The reader will recollect the promise which our 
 young hero had made Silvio on the preceding even- 
 ing, that he would see Ginevra on the morrow and 
 enjoin her to retire to a convent. He had been 
 detained by business at the Embassy until this 
 moment : he was therefore later than he had in- 
 tended to be. On beholding Ginevra rushing 
 frantically down those steps, he was smitten with 
 astonishment, and for a moment could not give 
 utterance to a word. She recognised him — she 
 stopped short — and with a look of unutterable de- 
 spair she endeavoured to gasp forth something. 
 But she could not :— the words stuck in her throat 
 — she had not the power to give utterance to 
 them. 
 
 "For heaven's sake, what is the meaning of 
 this ?" inquired Charles, at length recovering the 
 faculty of his own speech : " what new calamity 
 has occurred ?" 
 
 " All, all is discovered !" Ginevra faltered forth. 
 " There ! there !"— and she pointed to the church- 
 doors: " my husband !" 
 
 She then hurried away, and was speedily lost to 
 the view of our young hero, who was transfiied to 
 the spot by the horror vrhieh that announcement 
 nad suddenly excited in him. But in a few mo- 
 ments he rushed into the church ; and there he 
 beheld Father Falconara sustaining in his arms a 
 person whom he was dragging towards the ves- 
 tiary. The unhappy Count had already half re- 
 covered his consciousness: he now wholly regained 
 it— but the anguish of centuries had been left 
 upon his features by the incidents of a few 
 moments. Charles recognised him ; and his looks 
 showed Father Falconara that he was far from 
 being a stranger to the events that were passing. 
 
 " This young gentleman is a friend !" laid the 
 Count, in a voice so altered, and Oh ! so sombre, 
 that it was scarcely recognisable as that of th« 
 nobleman ; and the words that he spoke were ad* 
 dressed to Father Falconara. 
 
 The Count then moved towards the vestiary, the 
 young priest and Charles following in silence. 
 When in that place, the Count said, " A short 
 time back I considered myself the most miserable 
 of men : but my position then was a perfect para- 
 dise to what it is now ! You, Signer," turning 
 towards I>! Vere — "can comprehend what I mean 
 when I tell you that I have discovered everything. 
 But where is that guilty woman r" 
 
 "I met her upon the church steps," replied 
 
 Charles: "she sped frantically away 1 fear 
 
 that she will do herself a mischief!" 
 
 "My young friend," said the Count to Father 
 Falconara — and he now spoke in a rapid and ex- 
 cited manner — " the discovery which has been 
 made is horrible, horrible ! But publicity must 
 not be given to it ! Speed you to the mansion — 
 see the guilty Countess— tell her that as she has 
 brought a hideous stigma upon the name which 1 
 gave her, the only atonement she can now make is 
 to avoid attracting the world's gaze upon it ! Tell 
 her to carry the frightful secret with her to a con- 
 vent! Go quick! — do everything that is needful 
 to prevent the catastrophe! What the horrible 
 secret is you will presently learn !^ 
 
 Father Falconara issued from the vestiary : the 
 Count remained there alone with Charles De Vere. 
 
 " I do not wonder. Signer," said the wretched 
 nobleman, " that you should last night have re- 
 fused to breathe the name of him whom hence- 
 forth I can never again call my son : I respect 
 that generosity of feeling which prompted you to 
 keep the terrific secret i You have behaved ad- 
 mirably — nobly! — your conduct has been mag- 
 nanimous to a degree ! But now that the dis- 
 covery is made, I beseech you to give me every 
 particular— at least it any be yet unknown to mo 
 —in respect to the way you have been miied up 
 in these unfortunate affairs." 
 
 Charles De Vere saw no harm in complying to 
 a certain extent with the Count's request. He 
 therefore explained how the child had been origi- 
 nally confided to his keeping : but as he was anxious 
 to avoid embittering the feelings of the unhappy 
 father against the son, he suppressed everything j 
 which might hare this effect— if indeed such an j 
 effect were now possible ! Thus he did not state j 
 that it was through fear of the child being made j 
 away with by Silvio, that Ginevra had confided it 
 to his keeping : but he gave a somewhat different ' 
 complexion to this portion of the tale. Neither [ 
 did he state how he had been enticed to the ruins ( 
 of St. Nicholas, where his life was treacherously ] 
 attempted by Silvio. All these details he gene- j 
 rously suppressed. Becoming a questioner in his 
 turn, he inquired how the Count had made the 
 final discovery ?— though from certain antecedent 
 circuLDstances in respect to Silvio counterfeiting 
 Father Falconara in the confessional, the youth 
 already more than half-suspected the actual truth 
 of the present occurrence. For be it remembered 
 that the Count was dressed as a priest, an.i at the 
 time when he was being dragged by Father Fal- 
 conara to the vestiary the Dominican gown w»5 
 still hanging about his form.
 
 AGNES ; OE, BEAUTY AHD PLBASUBE. 
 
 S77 
 
 The nobleman briefly eiplsioed how Ginevra 
 had visited ]NiDo Corao's lodging on the preceding 
 evening, and how ho had overheard her state to 
 Benedetta her intention of confessing everything 
 to the priest on the ensuing day. The Count re- 
 vealed the remainder of the incident, as it is al- 
 ready known to the reader : but he earnestly 
 besought Charles De Vere to keep the whole af- 
 fair profoundly secret. A pledge to this effect 
 was readily given by the generous youth ; and 
 then he said, "'What will your lordship now do ! — 
 for Oil ! I beseech you to remember that however 
 guilty Silvio may be, he is nevertheless your son — 
 your own iiesh and blood !" 
 
 " I know it— alas, I know it !" replied the 
 Count. " Generous young man ! this appeal shall 
 not be made to me in vain, A few minutes back 
 I thought that I must kill my son — yes, ruth- 
 lessly slay him " 
 
 Charles shuddered visibly, as be said, " No, no ! 
 — for God's sake, my lord, banish such horrible 
 ideas from your mind !'* 
 j " They are already banished," answered the 
 I Count, with a solemn sincerity, " But still such 
 ' stupendous guilt caunjt remain altogether un- 
 punished ! ily wretched son is to come to me 
 in the evening ; and I will then banish him for 
 ever from my sight, I will disinherit him like- 
 wise. This is not a vengeance that I shall wreak 
 —but a just chastisement which I shall inflict !" 
 
 Charles De Vere could not utter a syllable of 
 remonstrance against a decision which the whole 
 aspect of circumstances demanded and necessitated. 
 It was impossible for him to plead more than he 
 had done on the guilty Silvio's behalf: he could 
 not blame the father for disinheriting such a son, 
 
 "And now, my lord," he said, at length break- 
 ing silence, "let me conjure you to return without 
 delay to your abode. You are incurring frightful 
 risks " 
 
 "You know not, my young friend," interrupted 
 the Count, with mingled bitterness and sadness ot 
 look and tone, " how lightly I now hold my life. 
 Yet will I wilfully incur no additional risk, 1 will 
 depart hence— I will return to my humble lodging. 
 We must separate : but before I leave Naples I 
 shall see you again, or 1 shall communicate with 
 you ; for I must find a more fitting opportunity of 
 expressing my gratitude for all the magnanimity 
 of your conduct," 
 
 The Count now readjusted his disguise by re- 
 suming the green spectacles and the ecclesiaslical- 
 sbaped hat, and having pressed with fervour the 
 hand of Charles De Vere, he issued from the 
 church. He was wending his way back to his 
 lodgings, when an idea occurred to his mind ; and 
 he said within himself, " Yes— it will he better to 
 know every particular, however minute ! — it will 
 be better to ascertain every detail of this sad and 
 fearful drama !" 
 
 The Count of Camerino still continued his way 
 towards the same quarter in which the house 
 where he dwelt was situated : but on reaching that 
 neighbourhood, he did not at once return to his 
 lodging — be bent his steps to the bouse inhabited 
 by Signor Visso, his guilty wife's relative. Wo 
 ibould observe that the Count was but little known 
 to Signor and Signora Visso ; for he had never 
 held the slightest intercourse with these persons- 
 he was not even on speaking terms with them. 
 
 He therefore felt well convinced that his disguise 
 wai so complete as to baffle any chance of recog- 
 nition on their part. 
 
 On reaching the house, bis summons at the door 
 was answered by a female domestic ; and on in- 
 quiring for Signor Visao, the nobleman was at once 
 admitted into the room where the surgeon was 
 accustomed to receive his patients— for the domes- 
 tic thought that the seeming priest came to con, 
 suit her master professionally. In a few moments 
 the surgeon made his appearance ; and he bowed 
 with the respect which the citizens of Naples are 
 wont to observe towards members of the ecclesias- 
 tical hierarchy. 
 
 "How can I serve your reverence ?" asked the 
 medical practitioner, anticipating a liberal fee 
 from the respectable appearance of the seeming 
 
 "By dealing frankly with me in reference to 
 the queries which I am about to put to you !" re- 
 sponded the Count, fixing his eyes with a sudden 
 threatening fierceness upon the surgeon. " Your 
 guilty complicity in certain matters is known; and 
 if you value your own safety, you will now deal 
 
 The conscience of Signor Visso was very far 
 from being so pure as to enable him to sustain 
 with calmness or self-possession the shock of this 
 sudden address ; he turned pale, and faltered out, 
 " How have I offended your reverence ? what have 
 I done ?" 
 
 " A few words will explain the object of my 
 presence here," rejoined the Count. " You are 
 acquainted with the Viscount Silvio di Camerino — 
 you are the relative of the Countess Ginevra," 
 
 The surgeon now gazed with an indescribable 
 terror upon the seeming priest ; but he could not 
 give utterance to a word — his tongue clave to the 
 roof of his mouth— he gasped— and guilt was in 
 every sense depicted upon his features, 
 
 "Speak!" said the Count of Camerino, "It 
 was beneath this roof that the frail, fallen woman 
 to whom I have alluded, became the mother of a 
 child — illegitimately — aye, almost incestuously 
 born ! Was it not so ?" 
 
 " It was— it was," said the trembling surgeon. 
 " But who has told your reverence all this ?-why 
 do you come to me? who has sent you ?" 
 
 " It is not for you to question," answered the 
 Count: "it is your part to reply to the queries 
 put from my lips. Listen ! One night — about a 
 fortnight back— that illegitimately born child was 
 consigned by its guilty and half distracted mother 
 to the care of a stranger under circumstances so 
 exceedingly strange and suspicious that they must 
 be investigated. To you these circumstances can- 
 not possibly be unknown " 
 
 " Holy father," interrupted the surgeon, who 
 was under the influence of the direst terror, " I 
 
 will tell you all but whatever be your power 
 
 or authority in the matter, I conjure you to spare 
 me ! Everything wherein I have found myself an 
 accomplice, was dictated or ordered by the Vis- 
 count Silvio. It was he who decided upon 
 making away with the babe !-it was he who de- 
 vised the plan for taking the life of the young 
 Englishman in the ruins of St. Nicholas " 
 
 "Gently," said the Count, who at once per- 
 ceived that his knowledge of the whole iniquitous 
 transactions was indeed hitherto incomplete, onJ
 
 S78 
 
 AGKBS; OB, BEAUTY A!<I> PLBA31/SB. 
 
 ihat be bad much to learn : but bo far from dia- 
 pla.TiuK any iguorance upon the point in the pre- 
 teuec of the surgeon, he said, " Hasten not on in 
 
 00 esolted a manner ; but aostrer me intelligibly. 
 
 1 must tell vou frankly that if I do not as yet 
 know everything in its minutest details, ! bave a 
 clue to the completest elucidation thereof ; nnd if 
 in a single instance you are now guilty of supres- 
 sion or omission, it will be the worse for you in 
 the Irng run ! But on the other hand, if you 
 deal frankly with me, I promise that tou shall be 
 safe." 
 
 An expression of indescribable relief appeared 
 upon the countenance of Signer Visso, as he said, 
 " I Kill answer your reverence frankly." 
 
 " First of oil, then," resumed the Count, " ex- 
 plain to me the circumstances under which the 
 child was consigned to the cara of the young 
 Englishman, Charles De Tere." 
 
 " I have already said," replied the surgeon, 
 "that it was the Viscount Silvir who resolved to 
 make away with the child; bat the Countess by 
 some means or another suspected bis intention — 
 and in order to save the babe she gave it into the 
 keeping of that youug Englishman whom you 
 have named. At the outset Viscount Silvio told 
 the Countess he would place the child in the 
 
 Foundling Hospital contrary to his ezpccta. 
 
 tiona she insisted on accompaoyiog him thither — it 
 was i:. chc evening " 
 
 "Yes," interpjsei the Count; "and your wife 
 went nith them." 
 
 " True," answered the surgeon j " and then it 
 was— somewhere in the streets— that tiie Countess 
 Gincvra suspected evil intentions on Silvio's part 
 —and she fled with the babe." 
 
 " In the second place," said the disguised noble- 
 man, " you bave to speak to me in reference to 
 the attempt that was made upon the life of the 
 young F.Dglisbman." 
 
 "Yes, holy father; and on this point I will 
 aleo be candid," responded the surgeon. " The 
 Viscount Silvio dreaded lest this young English- 
 man should make certain revelations " 
 
 " To whom T' demanded the seeming priest. 
 
 " The Viscount did not enter deeply into parti- 
 culars with me," replied Visso : " he merely said 
 that cverylhiog stood a chance of being discovered 
 — that we all stood upon the brink of a precipice 
 —and that nothing but the death of Signor De 
 Vere could save us. So I assented to the proposal 
 that was made to me " 
 
 " And this was to assassinate the young Eng- 
 lishman !" said the Count. "When was the pro- 
 ject attempted ?" 
 
 " Yesterday evening," rejoined the surgeon, — 
 " at sunset." 
 
 " Ah ! yesterday evening ?** said the Count : 
 and now Silvio's motives became all in an instant 
 clear to Lis comprehension. " But how did the 
 scheme fail ?" 
 
 "In good sooth holy father," responded Visso, 
 "Signor De Vere was in the 6r5t instance too 
 much for the Viscount and myself: but at length 
 we baJ him down— and to confess the truth, ill 
 would it bave fared with him in another moment 
 if the Countess herself iKtd not appeared upon the 
 •cone." 
 
 " Ah ! the Countess appeared ?" said the noble- 
 <n>n. " But you have not told me how she dis- 
 
 covered your abominable project — or whether sho 
 herself was an accomplice in it ?" 
 
 " No, no, holy father ! she was not an accom- 
 plico "' exclaimed Visso. " She had been uncon- 
 sciously made the means of enticing Charles De 
 Vere to those ruins under the pretext of having 
 important matters to communicate: but how she 
 afterwards discovered that evil was intended, I 
 know not. Immediately upon her appearance, C 
 fled from the spot. I have not since seen the 
 Viscount— I have been in fear and trembling — 
 but you have assured me, holy father, that my 
 safety depends upon my candour ; and you hav? 
 told mo likewise that you have the means of 
 judging whether I speak to you with frankness." 
 " Yes— I have those means," replied the Count; 
 " and I see that you have thus fur dealt with 
 sincerity. Have vou anything more to say ?" 
 
 " >"othing, holy lather— nothing," rejoined the 
 surgeon. " Would that I had never meddled in 
 these matters! would that I could now fairly aea 
 the issue of them ! ' 
 
 " Listen to me, Signor Visso," said the Count. 
 "You are acquainted with a fearful secret: for 
 your own sake retain it inviolable ! Let not the 
 knowledge thereof ever escape your lips ! I bave 
 it in my power to guarantee your safety, and that 
 of your wife, upon these conditions : but if you 
 violate them, rest assured that a terrible punish- 
 ment shall overtake you both. In the first placo 
 you plotted for the destruction of an ionoceat 
 child ; and in the second place you grasped the 
 assassin-weapon to take the life of the young Eng- 
 lish gentleman. Do you know what penalties 
 would overtake you for this double crime ? The 
 scaffold— or at least the galleys ! Then beware 
 how you violate the conditions which I have im- 
 posed ! If a single whisper derogatory to the 
 honour of the noble family of Camerino be 
 breathed in Naples, it will at once be attributed 
 to this house as its source ; and then nothing 
 should save you from the vengeance of those who 
 are able to inflict it. You understand me. Fare- 
 Having thus spoken, the Count of Camerino 
 quitted the surgeon's dwelling, and began to re- 
 trace his way to his own obscure abode. He was 
 now thoroughly acquainted with all the magna- 
 nimity of Charles De Verc's conduct: he perceived 
 what our hero had suppressed in reference to his 
 own knowledge of the deplorable series of trans- 
 actions in which he had become mixed up ; and 
 he understood the generous purposes for which 
 this suppression had taken place. And now too 
 he comprehended why it was that on the preceding 
 evening Charles had so emphatically refused to 
 remain alone with Silvio if the latter retained • 
 weapon in his possession. 
 
 " Noble-minded youth ! ' said the Count of 
 Camerino, thus aprostrophizing the imago of 
 Charles De Vere: "you shall assuredly hare your 
 reward !" 
 
 CHAPIEK XLVII. 
 
 TEE 3EA SaOBE. 
 
 We must now return to Father Falconara, whom 
 we left at the moment when he wjg ixuing from
 
 ag:;i:s; ok, ekaciy and pleascee. 
 
 him by the Count of Caiiiorino. Tbe mind of the 
 joung priest was in a state of the most painful 
 ticitement, — nut merely because he had to re- 
 proach himself for a sacrilegious deed in suffering 
 tl.o Count to take his place in the confessional, 
 but likenise because he sympathized deeply with 
 Ihe woes and sorrows of his benefactor. He was 
 >s yet unacquainted with the full extent of Gi- 
 nevra's guilt : he had learnt that she had proved 
 faithless to her marriage vows— hut it was evi- 
 dent that there was siill a darker secret which had 
 yet to be developed to his knowledge. 
 
 The Camerino mansiun was at no great distance 
 from the church; and it was soon reached by 
 I'.ither Fuloouara, who proceeded at a rapid pace. 
 On arriving at the mansion, be inquired for the 
 Counlesa, and was informed by the domestic to 
 whom he addressed himself, that her ladyship had 
 retired t3 her own chamber with the strict com- 
 mand that she was not to be disturbed. 
 
 "But perhaps the Countess will see your revo- 
 j rence," added the domestic, knowing that in such 
 I cases, where ladies denied themselves to all visi- 
 tors, exceptions were usually made on behalf of 
 the father confessor. 
 
 By this time the priest had composed his looks 
 and had gathered a'.l his self-possession to his aid : 
 he accordingly said with his wonted serenity, " Yes 
 —I have no doubt that her ladyship will see me. 
 Let a message be sent to the effect that I call in 
 
 ! reference to the business on which she just now 
 consulted me." 
 A few minutes afterwards Father Falconara was 
 conducted to the apartment where the wretched 
 Ginevra had secluded herself. A terrible altera- 
 tion bad taken place in her during the last half- 
 . hour : her face was as haggard, her eyes as hol- 
 
 !low, ber looks as woe-begone as if she had just 
 risen from her couch after a long illness. There 
 was an expression of settled despair upon her feti- 
 . tures, blended with an aspect that denoted some 
 ! Blerniy fixed resolve. Her desk was open upon 
 I the table : she had been writing — and she held a 
 I sealed packet in her hand as Father Falconara 
 I nas introduced. 
 
 1 " Has your reverence anything to communi- 
 j enle?" she asked in a cold, level, monotonous tone, 
 I as if the announcement of any fresh cal imity could 
 I scarcely add to the desperation of her feelings. 
 " I come from your ladyship's husband," an- 
 Dwered the young priest : " he has charged me 
 
 with certain messages to deliver ." 
 
 "Proceed : I listen," said the Countess. "Per- 
 taps he has discovered the fulness of my guiit ! 
 Perhaps he has cursed his own son likewise ? — 
 for he extorted that name from my lips ! You, 
 Father Fiilcunara, can best settle it with your own 
 conscience ho>v jou permitted him to usurp your 
 
 place in the confessional But Ah ! what ails 
 
 »ou ?" 
 
 Tbe young priest had staggered, and he now sank 
 heavily upon a seat. Tbe tremendous secret which 
 fn bis arrival there he had yet to learn, was now 
 learnt: the fulness of Ginevra's guilt was made 
 known to him. Pure-minded and well-principled 
 ■ — leading an immaculate life — the young ecclesi- 
 astic bad scarcely dreamt that such a horror was 
 possible; and it emote him therefore with the most 
 tremendous effect. Ginevra now perceived that 
 
 I all 
 
 eality had only just 
 
 " Lady," he said, in a voice that was full of 
 emotion, " I have indeed committed a great sin in 
 suffering another to usurp my place at the confes- 
 sional, and in giving utterance to a falsehood as a 
 pretext for that substitution. Alas ! bitter shall be 
 my repentance ! I am under no penance which 
 incapacitates me from listening to the words that 
 flow from the lips of a penitent, or which prevents 
 me from giving ehsolulion. Kneel, sinful daughter 
 — and let us pray together." 
 
 " It is useless," answered Ginevra coldly : " the 
 time for confession and prayer is past. Heaven 
 refuses me its forgiveness ! Step by step it wars 
 at^ainst me, dealing blow upon blow as a punish- 
 ment for my tremendous iniquity !" 
 
 " This is the language of despair," said the 
 young priest, '■ and it must not issue from your 
 lips. Heaven's mercy is illimitable " 
 
 " But 1 am beyond the reach of its influence," 
 rejoined Ginevra, utterly unmoved by the young 
 ecclesiastic's words,—" and deservedly so ! Yes — 
 1 am deservedly beyond the pale of heaven's mer- 
 cies ! for my crime has been very, very great. 
 Leave me to myself — leave me to tint destiny 
 against which it were vain and useless for mc to 
 wrestle. But Ah ! I remember you said that you 
 came hither as the bearer of messages from my 
 husband. What are his mandates? or what is the 
 substince of the curse which he has levelled against 
 me ?"— and there was a terrible coldness in Gi- 
 nevra's tone and look. 
 
 " Your husband has levelled no curse against 
 you," answered the young priest ; " and if he had, 
 rest assured that 1 should not become the bearer 
 of it. No, lady ! not for worlds ! my mission is 
 that of peace and religious consolation " 
 
 " And in the fuiaiment of it," interjected Gi- 
 nevra, with a cold bitterness, "you placo a hus- 
 band in the confessional that from the lips of hie 
 guilty wife he may extort the hideous avowal which 
 at least might have been spared to hiiit !' 
 
 " Ah ! your reproach is indeed but too just !" 
 
 said Father Falconara : "and I deserve it Oh, 
 
 I deserve it I" he added, wiping the tears from his 
 eyes. "But if you know how I was over-per- 
 suaded—the strong appeal that was made to 
 
 " Holy father, I forgive you !" said Ginevra. 
 " I see that in the course which you adopted you 
 were but an instrument in the hands of heaven, 
 which, as I before said, isdealing me blow upon blow. 
 Take this packet— it is addressed to yourself— it 
 contains the iustructions which I just now promised 
 to leave for you. You see, therefore, that 1 had not 
 completely lost all couliJence in your honour, even 
 though I knew that you likewise had turned 
 against me I But what said my husband?" 
 
 " Tiie Count of Camerino says, lady," replied 
 the priest, " that the honour of the family must 
 be outwardly maintained — that the gaze of the 
 world must not be permitted to penetrate these 
 walls and behold the skeleton within this house !" 
 
 " Ah ! my husband speaks in these terms ?" 
 said Ginevra: "and he will not therefore wreak a 
 deadly vengeance upon his guilty son ? This as- 
 surance is at least coosoliog— for heaven knows 
 there has already been a sufHoieaoy of criuie ! Auii 
 what more says my husband?"
 
 SH) 
 
 AGITES : OB, BBACTr AKD PLKASCEB. 
 
 'He CDjoins jou to retire from the world " 
 
 ' Such indeed was my intention !" responded 
 a voice that was colder and more 
 li ocotonous than even at first, 
 
 "Then my mission is accomplisbed," said the 
 priest, "so far as the injunctions of the Count of 
 Camerino are concerned. But I conjure you, sin- 
 ful daughter, to fall upon your knees— to join with 
 me in prayer " 
 
 "^'o!" interrupted Ginevra ; "I caoDot do 
 
 it- 1 will not do it ! at least not now," she 
 
 immcdialely added. " Come to me to-morrow " 
 
 She stopped short — and there was ao singular, 
 so sinister an expression upca her countenance 
 that the young ecclesiastic was affrighted, though 
 he knew not precisely what it was that he appre- 
 hended. 
 
 ■• Come to me to-morrow, I say," repeated Gi 
 nevra ; " and then— and then " 
 
 '■Be it as you will, lady," said the priest; "it is 
 not lor me to force you into prayer when your 
 mind is unfitted for devotion ! Commune with 
 yourself— ask pardon of heaven for the magnitude 
 ol your guilt — and prepare your soul to join with 
 me in intercession on your behalf, when I return 
 according to your bidding." 
 
 Father Falconara secured the sealed packet 
 about his person, and took his departure with the 
 deepest affliction in his heart. 
 
 " Now," said Ginevra to herself, as the door 
 closed behind him, " Ihave finished with all earthly 
 concerns !" 
 
 She repaired to her own chamber, where she 
 enveloped herself in her mantilla ; and descending 
 a staircase, she issued by a private door from the 
 
 We must now return to Charles De Tere. On se- 
 parating from the Count of Camerino, the young 
 t:cuticman wandered through the streets of 
 Ivaples reflecting with deep sadness upon all that 
 liud just occurred. He felt as dispirited as if the 
 calamities which had stricken others had sent 
 their effects rebounding upon his own lead. There 
 ivas a restlessness in his mind— an uneasiness sa. 
 vouring of a presentiment that he had not yet 
 men the issue of the terrible drama. For about 
 two hours did he wander through the city, until at 
 length feeling as if distracted by the din and 
 hustle which prevoiled in the streets, he struck 
 into the suburbs and gained the outskirt near the 
 bca-shore. As he approached the strand, be beheld 
 several boats hastily putting off: the fishermen 
 who manned them were shouting out to each 
 other in an excited tone: it was evident that 
 something had occurred — perhaps an accident — 
 nhich bad produced all this sensation. Charles 
 approached nearer to the scene ; and he inquired 
 ■.t an old fisherman who had remained upon the 
 .-hore, what Lad happened. 
 
 " Some female has plunged into the sea from 
 the top of yonder piece of rock," was the aged 
 IJsherman's reply. 
 
 " Intentionally P" asked our hero with a sbud- 
 tler : " for the purpose of self-destruction ?" 
 
 "Ko doubt of It, Signort" was the response; 
 " it could not have been an accident— for it was 
 done deliberately— I saw it with my own eyes. 
 The wretched creature came advancing over 
 yonder eminence — she went upon the jutting 
 — there she stood for a mom.2ut — and one 
 
 of my sons They are all in that boat, Sig. 
 
 nor " 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Charles : " your son, what of 
 him f" 
 
 " He declares that he saw the female clasp her 
 bands for an instant t be thinks too that she 
 pressed a crucifix to her lips " 
 
 " Alas, poor creature !" said Charles : " she 
 doubtless prayed for forgiveness when standing on 
 the very threshold of a crime! But perhaps it 
 may not be too late to save the unfortunate " 
 
 " Ob, it is too late to save her, Sigcor," replied 
 the fisherman ; " for she never once appeared after 
 she plunged into the water. Perhaps she struck 
 against a fragment of rock at the bottom— or 
 death may have been instantaneous by apoplexy. 
 At all events she is a corpse; and ail that now 
 can be done is to fish up the body and identify 
 
 " What appearance had she f " inquired Charles : 
 " to what class did she seem to belong r" 
 
 " Old age has dimmed my vision," answered the 
 fisherman ; " and besides, the rock, you see, from 
 which she threw herself, is at a tolerable distance. 
 But my sons declared that they thought she wai 
 a lady, as well as they could judge " 
 
 At this moment a cry was raised from the boat 
 that was nearest to the rock ; and the old fisher- 
 man exclaimed, " My sons have discovered the 
 body !" 
 
 And sure enough, as Charles glanced in the 
 direction of the boat whence the cry proceeded, be 
 saw that the old man's sons were lifting the corpse 
 into tbeir little bark. Tbey then began to pull 
 towards the shore, from which tbey were about 
 two hundred yards distant. Our hero was on the 
 point of retreating from the spot and quitting tha 
 scene of the tragedy, for be experienced not that 
 morbid curiosity which affords the generality of 
 persons a fearful gratification in gazing upon the 
 dead : but scarcely had he retraced a dozen steps, 
 when some unaccountable feeling induced him to 
 return and remain. He could not understand 
 why he obeyed the impulse and yet he did 
 
 The boat shot rapidly in towards the shore : bat 
 as the prow touched the strand, the forms of the 
 rowers concealed the corpse from the view of the 
 old fisherman and our hero. In another moment 
 however it was lifted by those who had dragged it 
 up from the depths of the sea; and an ejaculation 
 of horror burst from the lips of Charles De Vere, 
 as his eyes caught a first glimpse of the counte- 
 nance of the dead. For the suicide was Gi- 
 nevra! 
 
 " You know her f" said the old fisherman has- 
 tily. 
 
 "Y'es— I know her— the unfortunate lady!" 
 exclaimed Charles. *' It is the Countess of Came- 
 rino!" 
 
 The old fishermen cared nothing for any reasons 
 that the young Englishman might have in being 
 thus alHicted : all he now thought of was that 
 his sons would be sure to receive a liberal reward 
 lor the discovery of the corpse of a tilled lady. 
 
 "Do you hear that, Marco? do you hear that, 
 Lupo ?" be exclaimed : " and you, little Paulo 1" 
 now addressing the youngest of his lour sons; 
 " do you hear i she is a Countess ! and nothing 
 less than ijold will bo your recompense !"
 
 }'^aciili'i''i3 ni" Joy burst from the lips of the 
 old luau'd suDS ; aod tbej handled the corpse all 
 the luure gently after receiving the announce- 
 ujent. The lifelesa form of Ginevra was soon de- 
 pusiled upun the strand ; and as Charles De Vere 
 bent his shuddering gaze upon it, he beheld no 
 signs of a concussion against a hidden rock. 
 Beautiful she seemed even in death— far more 
 beautiful than during the last few hours of her 
 life ; fur then ber countenance wore a haggurd 
 and despuirutg expression— but now it was placid 
 and serene in the eternal slumber in which her 
 aufferings were furgutten ! The ejes were closed 
 — still and motionless she lay— and upon her 
 bosoo), aitached to a rosary, was the crucifix 
 which the old Bsherman's sons bad seen her press 
 to her lips the very instant she plunged into the 
 
 " Convey this corpse," said Charles, 
 tremulous voice, " to C 
 No. 36.— AesBS. 
 
 
 Cover it — and boar it decently. Tiii-re is tout 7>t- 
 ward." 
 
 Thus speaking-, be placed a couple of pieces cf 
 gold in the hand of the old fisherman ; and leav- 
 ing the party to the performance of their task, 
 he walked slowly and mMurufuUy away from the 
 spot. He had thus seen the end of one of tho 
 principal characters who had fi^-ured in the sad 
 and solemn melodrama wherein he himeelf had 
 likewise borne a part: the tragedy had its mural 
 — for a stupendous crime had been followed by a 
 dread self-inflictLd punishment! 
 
 For some minutes Charles meditated with the 
 most painful ftelings upon the incident that had 
 just occurred; and then he bethought himself of 
 the necessity of communicating it to the Count of 
 Cdmerino. Therefore, on re-entering the city, b« 
 quickened his pace, and in a short time reached 
 the Via Gracioaa. He ascended to the apartment 
 of ^inu Curso; for he did not like to present him*
 
 AOSES; OE, BEAnTI ANP PLEASCBE. 
 
 self in the first instance at the Count's chamber. 
 On entering the humble room, he beheld Bene 
 dstta weeping : her husband was not there -but 
 her children were standing by, surveying their 
 mother in mournful silence. Charles was smitten 
 with Ihe idea of some new calamity having oc- 
 curred ; for he felt convinced that the intelligence 
 of Ginpvra's death could not as yet have possibly 
 reaclieil the habitation where ho now fuund him- 
 self—and indeed he likewise remembered that 
 Benedetta was ignorant who the mother of the 
 child really was, while he also knew that the Count 
 of Camerino was little likely to have enlightened 
 her upon the point. 
 
 Charles was not however kept long in suspense : 
 for Benedetta, rising from her seat, beckoned him 
 to approach the little cradle ; and lifting a snow- 
 white cloth which lay over it, she showed him the 
 child. The infant was dead ! 
 
 " Ah ! mother and babe both alike gone !" 
 murmured the youth, stricken by the coincidence. 
 
 " What mean you, signer ?" anxiously asked 
 Benedetta, who had caught the sense of his 
 
 " I mean," replied Charles solemnly, " that 
 death is not this day contented with having one 
 victim : but two have been demanded ! The 
 wretched mother of that child has ceased to 
 exist !" 
 
 He did not however choose to say any more, for 
 fear of affording a clue to establish the identity of 
 the infant's parent with the Countess of Came- 
 rino. Benedetta continued to weep; and after a 
 pause our hero, glancing towards the cradle, in- 
 quired, " When did this happen ?" 
 
 " Two hours ago, signor," replied Benedetta : 
 " the poor infant was seized with convulsions— and 
 by the time a surgeon arrived it was a corpse in 
 
 There was another pause ; and then Charles 
 asked whether he could see the gentleman who 
 tenanted the opposite apartment ? Benedetta re- 
 plied in the affirmative, and showed him how he 
 was to knock at the door, so as to convey by a 
 signal that it was a friend who sought admittance. 
 Our hero placed in Benedetta's hand some gold as 
 the means for interring the dead infant ; and he 
 then took bis leave of her. On knocking at the 
 opposite door, the summons was answered by the 
 Count of Camerino, who grasped the youth most 
 cordially by the hand. 
 
 " You have been in the other room perhaps?" 
 said the nobleman, in a low deep voice. 
 
 " Yes — I have been there," replied Charles sig- 
 nificantly. 
 
 " Heaven has thought fit," resumed the Count, 
 *' to take from this earthly sphere the offspring of 
 crime— and it wore a miserable affectation to de- 
 plore the event !" 
 
 "No, my lord— it cannot be deplored," rejoined 
 our hero. "Death has been busy to-day— 1 have 
 intelligence to impart " 
 
 "Ah! what mean you ?" inquired the Count 
 quickly. " I see there is something in your looks 
 beyond the effect which the death of that child 
 would produce. Speak, my young friend 1 Per- 
 haps the guilty Ginevra " 
 
 "My lord," said Charles solemnly, "your erring 
 wife has ceased to exist !" 
 
 " But how died she t" demanded the Count, 
 
 trembling all over : " is it possible that the 
 wretched woman, driven to despair " 
 
 " Yes, my lord— she has perished as a suicidal 
 Not half-an-hour has elapsed since I beheld h. r 
 lifeless form dragged forth from the deep waters 
 of the sea !" 
 
 The Count of Camerino sat down: he was still 
 trembling from head to foot with the violence- of 
 his emotions ; and he said, " Unfortunate Gioevra! 
 I did not desire this ! I would not have driviu 
 thee to such a catastrophe! No! — rather, teu 
 thousand times rather would I that thou should'st 
 have lived to atone for thine errors and win the 
 pardon of heaven !" 
 
 All the natural generosity of the Count of 
 Camerino's soul was awakened by the intelligence 
 he had just received ; and he wiped the tears from 
 his eyes. 
 
 "I forgive thee, Ginevra! from the very bottom 
 of my heart do I forgive thee !" he continued, in 
 a mournful tone ; " and henceforth I swear that 
 by me thy memory shall not be contemplated with 
 bitterness ! Oh ! thy fate is a sad and a terrible 
 one — and it seems as if heaven were determined 
 that thou and the offspring of thy shame should 
 pass away from the earth on the same day and al- 
 most in the same hour !" 
 
 There was again a pause ; and then the Count 
 of Camerino, rising from bis seat, said, " My 
 young friend, I have learnt many things since we 
 parted this morning in the church. Already had 
 I every reason to admire the generosity of your 
 conduct throughout these deplorable transactions ; 
 but now there are a thousand reasons wherefore I 
 should admire its magnanimity. Yes — I have 
 learnt all those particulars which you, in the lofti- 
 ness of your mind, suppressed. It has come to 
 my knowledge that my wretched son, as if not 
 satisfied with the odious crime he had already 
 committed, would have superadded iniquity upon 
 iniquity : he would have taken the life of the child 
 —his own child ! —he would have taken your life 
 also! All these things have I heard; and I com- 
 prehend full well wherefore you suppressed them 
 in your explanations of this morning." 
 
 " And how did you ascertain, my lord," inquired 
 Charles, " the particulars to which you have al- 
 luded ?" 
 
 " I have seen the unprincipled villain Visso — 
 and from his lips I extorted everything. Lan- 
 guage has not the power to convey an adequate 
 idea of the admiration which 1 entertain for your 
 conduct ! Eest assured that it will experience its 
 reward!" 
 
 " Beyond your lordship's approval and that of 
 my own conscience," replied Charles De Vere, " I 
 seek no other recompense. Tell me, Count— i» 
 there anything that I can now do under existing 
 circumstances ? — for the corpse of your perished 
 wife has by this time been conveyed to the man- 
 sion — the rumour of the suicide must soon 
 spread " 
 
 " True !" ejaculated Camerino : " that rumour 
 will spread, and the wildest conjectures will get 
 afloat ! Yes— you can serve me in the present 
 case. Hasten to Father Falconara, and learn what 
 took place between "himself and the hapless Gi- 
 nevra— if indeed he saw her at all after she quitted 
 the church. Then go to the Marquis of Ortonai 
 he is my bosom friend— he will accompany you to
 
 A0KE3 ; OB, BEAUTY ASD PLEASUEE. 
 
 the mansion. Together ;ou vill search amoogst 
 tKnevra's papers ; and if you discover any proofs 
 of her frailty— any letters which might betray her 
 crime— destroy tbem— destroy them! The Mar- 
 quis will cause the rumour to be whispered that 
 driven to despair by her husband's prolonged 
 exile, the unfortunate Countess has committed 
 euicide.'* 
 
 " But the Marquis, I presume," said Charles, 
 ** is unacquainted with the terrible mystery ?" 
 
 ",TeB," responded the Count; " but to his ears 
 —and to his ears only— must the fearful secret 
 be communicated ! I have my reasons. In dis- 
 inheriting my son But no matter ! Hasten, 
 
 my young friend, and manage all these things for 
 tne. Perhaps you will return to me in the even- 
 ing, after the painful ordeal through which I have 
 
 jet to pass 1 mean my parting interview with 
 
 my guilty son !" 
 
 Charles had reached the door of the room, when 
 he turned back and said, " My lord, on behalf of 
 tl.at son of yours, is forgiveness impossible P can- 
 not leniency be shown?" 
 
 The nobleman's countenance became gloomily 
 stern, as he said with sombre resoluteness, " No, 
 impossible !" — and then he grasped De Vere's hand 
 in admiration of this last generous interposition 
 on Silvio's behalf. 
 
 Hours passed away ; and it was about nine 
 o'clock in the evening when Charles De Vere re- 
 turned to the Via Graeiosa. He found the 
 Cjunt of Camerino ansiously awaiting his pre- 
 sence. 
 
 "All has been done, my lord, as you desired," 
 snid the youth. " In the first place I saw Father 
 Falconara, who was cruelly shoclted on receiving 
 the intelligence of the wretched end of the Couq. 
 
 " Had he seen her ?" inquired the Count, with 
 bast; utterance. 
 
 " Yes, my lord ; and she gave him a packet 
 containing a document appointing him the trustee 
 of whatsoever property it was in her power to dis- 
 pose of. The whole was to be realized to form a 
 fund for the maintenance of the child ; and thus it 
 is evident that when she left these parting instruc- 
 tions, she contemplated suicide —or else she would 
 have bequeathed a portion of her property to the 
 convent she might enter. Moreover, Father Fal- 
 cjnara, recalling to mind the unfortunate lady's 
 looks and certain expressions which she made use 
 of during their last interview, feels convinced 
 that self-destruction was resolutely settled in her 
 thoughts." 
 
 " And what in referenc3 to the Marquis of 
 Ortona ?" inquired the Count. 
 
 " I saw that nobleman — and I told him every- 
 thing," continued Charles. "Need I say that be 
 was most painfully shocked ?— fur towards yourself 
 be experiences a more than friendship— it is the 
 love of a brother!" 
 
 "Yes— we are very old friends," said the 
 Count, with much emotion. " Did you visit 
 
 " I did," was the reply ; " and the Marquis ac- 
 companied me. The domestics were in conster- 
 nation : but the Marquis said all that he could to 
 soothe and console them — and he expressed his 
 opinion that the unfortunate Countess, frenzied by 
 this protracted separation from yourself, had in a 
 
 moment of despair perpetrated self-destruction. 
 \7e searched among the papers of the deceased— 
 but we found not a line nor a word calculated to 
 betray the fatal secret. The Marquis wished to 
 accompany me hither this evening ; but I repre- 
 sented to his lordship that it would be better for 
 him to await a message from you." 
 
 I The Count expressed his gratitude to De Vere 
 for the manner in which he had fulfilled his in- 
 structions ; and our hero hesitatingly and anxiously 
 inquired, " Have you seen your sou ?" 
 
 "No," replied the Count : "he has not been^ 
 and now I expect him not. Doubtless he has 
 heard the intelligence of Ginevra's death ? And 
 who can tell but that she herself might have sent 
 him a warning word to the effect that everything 
 
 , was discovered ? But even if she had not done 
 so, the fearful rumour of her suicide would strike 
 
 I his guilty conscience with something more than a 
 
 I suspicion ! No— Silvio will not come; and per- 
 
 I haps it is better thus ! 1 have no longer a wife 
 — no longer a son : utterly bereaved am I ! Oh, 
 
 I my young friend ! it requires a preterhuman 
 courage to bear up against such a fate as this !" 
 
 There was a solemn pause ; and then the Count 
 said, as if a sudden idea struck him, "I shall 
 visit the mansion stealthily— I shall bend one 
 last look upon her whom I loved so tenderly ere 
 her guilt became known- 1 shall kneel by the side 
 of the couch where she lies— and I shall implore 
 heaven to have mercy upon her soul ! Will you 
 
 ' accompany me ?" 
 
 " I will, my lord," answered our hero; for the 
 
 I request was too sacred to be refused. " But con- 
 
 j sider the risk you incur " 
 
 ! " I am indifferent on that point," responded the 
 Count : " but even if it were otherwise, there is 
 indeed little Janger of my detection — for at eleven 
 o'clock this night I shall leave Naples." 
 
 "At least, my lord," urged our hero, " resume 
 that clerical garb which you wore in the morn- 
 ing -" 
 
 I " It is already packed up in my trunk— and the 
 trunk itself is in Nino Corso's vehicle. To baffle 
 the police, should they happen to be upon the 
 scent, certain changes of garb are requisite. 
 Dressed as I now am, as a simple citizen, I leave 
 the city of Naples : but when once on the out- 
 skirts, I change my raiment — I become a priest. 
 
 I You do not understand these things ; heaven 
 grant that you never may ! And now let us de- 
 part. All my arrangements for the journey are 
 
 ; made ; I will simply say farewell to Benedetta and 
 leave word where her husband is to take me up 
 at eleven o'clock." 
 
 The nobleman muffled himself up in his cloak, 
 and passed into the opposite room, where he re- 
 mained for a few minutes. He then rejoined 
 Charles De Vere; and he said, "I had forgotten 
 something. Take charge of this packet : it is ad- 
 dressed to the Marquis of Ortona — deliver it to 
 him in the course of to morrow— and express my 
 regrets that I should have been unable to sea 
 
 I him previous to my departure. Whatever else I 
 
 I may have to communicate, is contained in this 
 
 "I will faithfully fulfil your lordship's instruc- 
 tions," answered Charles, as he received the packet 
 ' and secured it about his person. 
 I Our hero and the nobleman then departed from
 
 AQKSS; OB, BEirTT ASD PLEABDBa. 
 
 Ibe heuae, and began threading their «a,v through 
 tbe various streets lea<itn<; t-iwards the Camerioo 
 Mansion. A complete silence was maintained be- 
 tween them : but the Iceen eye of the Count ever 
 and anon flung a look behind, or to the right or to 
 the left, to assure himself that he was not being 
 watched or dogged hj any hirelings of the p-ilice. 
 On this point he seemed to b-? pretty well satisfied ; 
 and the neighbourhood of his own mansion was 
 reached in safety. His own mansion ! Yes—that 
 dwelling from which he had been nearly a twelve, 
 month absent, and which crime had now made de. 
 Bolate ! The owner of that lordly palace was ap- 
 proaching it as if with the stealthiness of a thief; 
 and Charles wondered how he would effect an entry 
 without being observed by his domestics. A ques- 
 tion to this effect our young hero now put lu tbe 
 nobleman. 
 
 " I have already thought well upon the subject," 
 answered the Count of Camerino. " In this unfor- 
 tunat« country it would be the height of indiscre-i'jn 
 to trust to one's domestics; for such is the diabolic 
 Bubtlety of the police, that spies are introducoj 
 into every bouse on which suspicion has fallen — 
 and in the person of the most obsequious lacquey, 
 the readiest page, or the most stolid-looking stable- 
 boy, one of their agents may be concealed !" 
 
 "Then what will jour lordship do?" inquired 
 Charles De Vere. 
 
 " You must lend ma your assistance," replied 
 I he Count. '* The old housekeeper has been for 
 years in my family ; and she can be relied upon. 
 It is fur you to ring at the front gate and ask to j 
 aee tbe woman. In her ear you may whisper the 
 fact that I am in Naples, and that it is my mourn- | 
 fal wish to kneel lur a few instants by the side of 
 my unfortunate nife's remains. She will enable 
 me to obtain admittance by the private door open- 
 ing into tbe garden. Meanwhile I wi^l hasten 
 round to the alley at the back of the grounds —I 
 will scale the wall— and by the time the private door 
 ia opened I shall have reached it." 
 
 Charles and the Count accordingly separated on 
 tbe spot where this little colloquy took place ; and 
 tbe youth proceeded to the principal entrance of 
 the Camerino Mansion. He inquired for tbe house- 
 keeper ; and a page in waiting at once conducted 
 lum to the room occupied by that elderly female. 
 Tae three or four servants whom be met while 
 proceeding thither, wore an expression of tbe deep- 
 est sadness upon their countenances; for death 
 was in that house, and they had loved their de- 
 ceased mistress. None suspected the secret of her 
 guilt; — upon their minds rested the impression 
 that she had committed suicide in a moment of 
 despair on account of the protracted absence of her 
 husband. This same impression likewise existed 
 with the elderly housekeeper, who was sealed in 
 tbe most pensive sadness at the instant when 
 Charles was introduced into her presence. 
 
 He guardedly communicated to this confidential 
 female the fact that the Count was in Naples, and 
 that he sought a stealthy admission into that psla- 
 tial residence where in past times be bad trod with 
 the dignity and freedom of a master. The house- 
 keeper was at first overwhelmed with mingled as- 
 tonishment and apprehension : then she put a 
 thousand questions; but Charles assured her there 
 was no time for discourse — and she therefore has- 
 tened to pertorm lbs pjrt that was rt-q i rt- 1 uT 
 
 her. She led our young hero up the principal 
 staircase: they reached the landing which com- 
 muoicited with the staterooms; and there they 
 threaded a series of passages, towards the top of 
 tbe private suircase Down this they went: tbe 
 housekeeper opened the door at the bottom ; and 
 in a few moments the Count of Camerino emerged 
 from amidst the shade of a group of evergreens 
 which bordered a graasplat in the garden. When 
 he bad entered tbe mansion, and that private door 
 was closed, the housekeeper regarded him for a 
 few instants with an air of mistrust, as if she could 
 not altogether make up her mind that it was her 
 master whom she beheld before her — so altered 
 was his countenance, not merely by the beard be- 
 ing shaven oif and the hair of bis head being 
 cropped close, but likewise by the effects of care 
 and anguish. When, however, be took her hand 
 and spjKe kindly to her, she knc* that it was iD- 
 deed her master ; and she burst into tears. She 
 was giving way to ber lamentations, when the 
 Count entreated her to be calo?, as the slightest 
 circumstance might bjtray bis presence at the 
 mansion; an) the good woman exerted all her 
 energy to subdue her emotions. Sie now led tbe I 
 way up the private staircase ; and first of all con- { 
 ducted the Count and Charles into an apartment, { 
 where she left tbem for a few minutes while she | 
 hastened to assure herself that none of the de- 
 ceased's Ginevra's maids were in tbe chamber in I 
 which the corpse lay. All being in accordance I 
 nith ber vvishes in this respect, she returned to tbe 
 apartment where she bad left ber master and our 
 liero ; and she said, " Your lordship can sow fcl- 
 
 Charles, from motires of delicacy, purposed fo 
 remaiu "here he was; but tbe Couut said in a 
 low whisper, " Cjtno with me, my young friend. 
 I h'lve a particular rea^oa '." 
 
 De A'ere accordingly followed the nobleman 
 from the room ; and toey were led by the house- 
 keeper into an elegantly furnished ante-cbamber, 
 communicating with Ginevra's own apartment. 
 
 " Tarry you here, my faithful servant," sai 1 the 
 Count to the housekeeper, "so that you may give 
 us warning if anything at all suspicious should 
 occur." 
 
 The Count had really little or no fear upon this 
 point: but be wishel to be alone with bis young 
 friend, by the side of the CDrpse in the adjacent 
 apartment. Into that apartment they entered; 
 and the door was closed behind them. There, upon 
 the couch, lay the perished Ginevra, with a sheet 
 thrown over her. The housekeeper bad already 
 informed her master and our hero that precisely 
 as the Countess had been brought home by the 
 fishermen, so had she been l.-iid upon that couch; 
 for as it bad been a case of violent death, it was 
 necessary to await the olE^:i«l visit of the Commia- 
 sary of Police on the morrow, bef ire any arrange- 
 ments could be made for the laying out of th» 
 corpse. 
 
 And BOW by tbe side of that couch on which 
 lay bis perished and guilty wife, stood tbe Count 
 of Camerino ! His arms were folded across bis 
 breast : he stretched not forth a hand to liu the 
 sheet from tbe face of the dead : his features, pale 
 and rigid, indicated the working of strong feeUogs 
 within. Charles at length asked in a low t-.ae, 
 '■ Sliall I raise that coverlet?"
 
 AOKES; OB, BBAUTT AKD PLEA8CB8. 
 
 I "Te», my joung friend," replied the Couot, in a 
 
 ' Toice thflt was scarcely audible. 
 
 ! Slowly did De Vere lift the sheet: calm and 
 
 beautiful lay Ginevra, as if she were sleeping; and 
 
 ' from her countenance had passed away the traces 
 
 I of ell the anguish which she endured at the mo- 
 
 ' znent when she took the fatal plunge into the 
 
 ' waters of the Bay of Naples. The nobleman 
 
 started as if surprised to see that she looked thus 
 
 tranquil and lovely even in her death ; and then 
 
 ; he murmured in a broken voice, "Ob, Ginevra, 
 
 I Ginevra! to think that you should have been so 
 
 I deeply criminal !" 
 
 I There was a pause for nearly a minute, during 
 I which the workings of the Count's features de- 
 noted a strong inward agitation ; and at length 
 t einking upon bis knees, he said, "I forgive tbee, 
 I Ginevra!— for this purpose have I come! And 
 I that you, my dear friend," he continued, address- 
 I ing himsell to Charles, "should be the witness of 
 this proclamation of pardon from my lips, so far 
 ] as the perished one here is concerned, have I 
 I brought you into the chamber of death! All 
 { rancour is banished now — at least with regard to 
 her! — and may her suul repose in peace! Alas, 
 
 ' poor frail, erring mortal " 
 
 I Here the Count's voice was choked by his emo- 
 tions as he took the cold hand of the dead and for 
 ' an instant pressed it to bis lips. Our hero was 
 deeply affected, and tears started from bis eyes. 
 The Count prayed in silence for some minutes : 
 then he rose from his knees — and bending over the 
 face of the dead, he imprinted a kiss upon the 
 ; marbld brow. He made a sign for Charles to re- 
 : place the sheet over that lifeless countenance; 
 and he turned towards the door. He passed into 
 the nnte-ch^ jer, followed by Charles; and they 
 found the 1 isekeeper upon her knees, before a 
 little cruciGx upon a toilet-table. She was pray- 
 I ing devoutly. She rose from her suppliant pos- 
 I ture; and the Count said, " I am about to leave 
 ; ray mansion as stealthily as 1 entered it. Heaven 
 ( only knows whether I shall ever return hither ! 
 But the Marquis of Ortona will receive certain 
 instructions : as a friend be will fulhl them : and 
 I you, my good woman, will find that I am not in- 
 ! different to the welfare of a faithful servant." 
 
 Having thus spoken, the Count of Camerino 
 pressed the hand of the worthy housekeeper; and 
 he then hastened from the room. But scarcely had 
 he set foot in the passage, when there was a rush 
 of heavy steps — four or five police-agents sprang 
 forward— and upon the ears of Charles sounded 
 the ominous words, " You are our prisoner, my 
 lord ! We arrest jua in the Eing's name i" 
 
 CHAPTEK XIVHL 
 
 IHB PEEPECIOBB. 
 
 Wb must now return to the Viscount Silvio Di 
 Camerino, whom we left at the Prefecture of 
 Police, after his strange interview with the beauti- 
 ful Ciprina. Having meditated for a long time 
 upon all that had occurred between himself and 
 that lady, Silvio suught the couch which was pre- 
 pared for him i:i his prison-apartments. Sleep 
 
 8tol'.> upon his eyes; and he slumbered till the 
 morning. When he awoke he could scarcely per- 
 suade himself that all the incidents of the past 
 evening were otherwise than a dream; and he was 
 even compelled to review them deliberately to 
 become convinced of their reality. 
 
 An exquisite breakfast was served up to him: 
 an hour or two passed— and it was about eleven 
 o'clock in the forenoon when the door opened and 
 the Chief of Police made his appearance. Silvio 
 now thought that if there were any treacherous 
 proceeding or insidious espial on Ciprina's part, 
 the moment had come when he should ascertain 
 the fact; and it was therefore with some degree of 
 aniiety aud suspense that he fluniif a searching 
 look upon the countenance of the Prefect. That | 
 countenance was however calm; and there was a ' 
 certain degree of urbanity in the high official's 
 manner as he expressed the hope that the Viscount ' 
 had slept well and had experienced all possible at- | 
 tentions? Silvio, infinitely relieved, at once replied, ' 
 " I have naught to complain of, my lord, on that I 
 score." 
 
 "I regret," proceeded the Chief of Police, "that 
 your detention is likely to last a few hours longer 
 than I could have at first foreseen. His Majesty 
 the King left Naples at an early hour this morn- 
 ing on a visit to a nobleman's country seat at some 
 little distance : and he will not return until five or 
 six o'clock in the evening." 
 
 " It it of no consequence," replied Silvio, as if 
 with a careless manner. " A few hours more or 
 less will make no difference under existing circum- 
 
 " This is precisely what I thought and hoped," 
 said the Chief of Police : " for I remember well that 
 you lAst night informed me you were not to sea 
 your father again until the evening." 
 
 "Yes, my lord- such was the appointment that 
 he gave me," rejoined the Viscount. 
 
 " And therefore," continued theMinister, "every- 
 thing holds good— does it not ?— according to our 
 compact?" 
 
 ''Everything, my lord," answered Silvio. 
 
 " I have not been idle," continued the Chief of 
 Police : " I have already communicated secretly 
 and confidentially with the Minister of the Inte- 
 rior; and the decree for your pardon is drawn up. 
 It needs but the signatura of his Majesty ; and 
 this shall be obtained in the evening. Then, my 
 lord, you will give the information which is re- 
 quired of you ; and the moment that this is done, 
 the decree shall be placed in your hands. But 
 you must not expect the doors of your prison, 
 chamber to be thrown open until the Count of 
 Camerino shall be in the custody of my sbirri." 
 
 " Be it as you say, my lord," replied Silvio, — 
 adding with a certain bitterness of tone, " I see 
 that the compact is so infamous you will not give 
 credit to my sincerity until you have the most 
 positive proof that I am earnest in the fulfilment 
 of my bargain 1" 
 
 The Minister made no reply: but bowing coldly 
 he issued from the apartment. 
 
 It full well suited Silvio's new plans and hopes 
 that this delay should have arisen; and he consi- 
 dered it to be almost providentially favourable to 
 his cause. 
 
 " Heaven itself is interposing," he said, " to 
 1 of the foul crime which
 
 ASKEB; OK, BBAVIT JiSB FLBASUBE. 
 
 nuulJ oven amount to parricide, as the conditioa 
 of m; release ! Ciprina is truthful and sincere ; 
 and she will effect m; deliverance. But Ab! every- 
 thing notv depends upon the alternatives whether 
 ehe be first in executing her own design before the 
 Chief of Police returns to me with the decree of 
 par>ion in his hand V* 
 
 The hours went by, during which the Viscount 
 
 remained in an almost torturing state of suspense ; 
 
 for he feared lest tha Minister of Police should be 
 
 beforehand in the matter— and if this proved to 
 
 be the case, he knew not what pretext to raise or 
 
 what excuse to make to obtain an additional delay. 
 
 j Id the afternoon the door again opened; and the 
 
 j Prefect once more presented himself. Silvio's 
 
 ; heart sank within him. What if the King had 
 
 returned at an earlier hour than was expected ? 
 I " My lord," said the Prefect, " I consider it my 
 I duty to communicate a piece of intelligence which 
 I has just reached me ; and you are the best judge 
 I whether it will be likely to lead to any change in 
 I your plans as already settled." 
 
 " What mean you, my lord ?" demanded Silvio 
 I anxi ^usly. 
 
 I " The young Countess of Camerino," continued 
 I the Minister, " has committed suicide !" 
 I '• Suicide ?" — and Silvio staggered beneath the 
 ; blow which thus suddenly smote him. 
 I " It is even so, my lord. The unfortunate lady 
 i has drowned herself ; and her corpse has been con- 
 I Teyed to the Camerino Mansion." 
 j Silvio clasped his hands in despair ; for he felt 
 I that he was the author, in a manner more or less 
 I direct, of this horrible tragedy — and that be was 
 j the murderer of his own father's wife! 
 
 " It is said, my lord," proceeded the Minister, 
 
 ; " that the young Countess of Camerino committed 
 
 I eelf' destruction in a moment of madness caused 
 
 1 by a prolonged separation from her husband. 
 
 ! You, my lord, perhaps best know whether this be 
 
 the truth ?"— and the Prefect's keen searching eyes 
 
 were Qxed with a sinister sigaiEcancy upon the 
 
 guilty Viscount. 
 
 " I do not understand you, my lord," answered 
 Silvio, with a desperate effort recovering hia self- 
 I possession 
 
 " It is useless for me to beat about the bush, or 
 
 I prove fastidious under existing circumstances," 
 
 I continued the Prefect. " The suicide of the 
 
 ; Countess Ginevra has cleared up to my knowledge 
 
 i Bomething that was previously mysterious. Did 
 
 you not last night tell me that you bad done 
 
 ; something which your father stood upon the brink 
 
 1 of discovering, even if by that time he had not 
 
 ; already discovered it ? Did you not moreover 
 
 assure me that this fact alone would induce him to 
 
 disinherit you? and were you not most anxious 
 
 I upon all these points ? Taat something which you 
 
 I had committed and which the Count of Camerino 
 
 \ stood on the verge of discovering,— was it not a 
 
 I guilty intrigue with the Countess Ginevra? Aa- 
 
 ! ewer me, my lord ! There need be no secrets be- 
 
 tvfixt vou and me!" 
 
 "And what if it even were so?" asked the 
 guilty Viscount. 
 
 " Simply that I would now ascertain," rejoined 
 the Chief of the Police, " whether, under these 
 altered circumstances, you still possess the power 
 of delivering your father into my bands ?— whether 
 the appointment which he gave you for to-night 
 
 I will be kept ?— or whether, dreading the extreme of 
 j treachery on the part of his son, he may not 
 I change bis abode, or else flee at once from Naples ? 
 ■ On all these points, my lord, you, I repeat, are the 
 I best judge." 
 
 , Silvio reflected deeply (or a few minutes ; and 
 then he replied in a gloomy, sombre voice, " I feel 
 convinced that I shall still be enabled to fulfil my 
 compact, odious and horrible though that consum- 
 I mation of all my guilt will be ! But let it be 
 I postponed, my lord, until a late hour to-night. I 
 I have my own reasons— I know what I have to do 
 
 In a word, I can confidently pledge myself on 
 
 I the fulfilment of my compact !" 
 I " 'Tis well, my lord," said the Chief of the 
 I Police : and he took his departure. 
 I When Silvio was alone, he sat down, buried his 
 ' face in his hands, and gave way to bis painful me- 
 ditations. He was a prey to a horrible state of 
 uncertainty. Had his father discovered the tre- 
 mendous secret of his guilt?— and had the 
 wretched Ginevra, in consequence of this disco- 
 very, put an end to her days ? Silvio dreaded 
 that such must indeed be the case ; for he remem- 
 bered only too well the parting scsne with his 
 sire on the preceding evening in the Via Graciosa. 
 And yet, on the other band, was it not possible 
 that the discovery should still be unmade?— and 
 that Ginevra, already overwhelmed by an intole- 
 i rable weight of affliction, had in the distractioa of 
 her mind put a period to her existence ? 
 I " Oh, this horrible sate of uncertainty !" ex- 
 j claimed Silvio, suddenly starting up to bis feet. 
 "I also shall become distracted! But no!— this 
 is childish on my part ! I must be a man ! What 
 shall I do ? Is not my position as well-nigh des- 
 perate as it can be?— and must I not throw my- 
 self upon the first chance that comes P Yes ! —if 
 Ciprina be the first to communicate with me, so 
 much the better ! But if, on the other band, the 
 Chief of the Police be the first to come— like Satan 
 in human form, bearing in his hand the price of 
 my iniquity— I must yield to the pressure of cir- 
 
 As the hours now passed, Silvio was incessantly 
 flinging his eyes into the recess whicb contained 
 the secret door, with the hope that Ciprina would 
 make her appejrance. Dinner was served up to 
 him : ho could scarcely eat a morsel — but he 
 drank copiously of the wine that accompanied the 
 repast. Then he again kept watching the empty 
 recess ; and at length, to his unspeakable relief, ha 
 beheld the door suddenly open. 
 
 The beautiful Fidelia appeared upon the 
 threshold. She placed her finger upon her lip, 
 and made a sign for the Viscount to follow her. 
 Snatching up hia hat ond cloak, he at once 
 obeyed ; and she conducted him into the apart- 
 ment where on the preceding evening he had held 
 that long conversation with Ciprina, This beau- 
 tiful lady was there to receive him; and they met 
 as if they were old friends— for circumstances bad 
 established a certain degree of intimacy between 
 them. He took her hand and pressed it to his 
 lips, as he anxiously asked, " Are the arrange- 
 ments made ? Can we escape ?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied; "everything is settled I 
 Thanks to this faithful girl, whose name of Fidelia 
 is indeed most appropriate " 
 
 " You have promised to take me with you, dear
 
 AGITES; OE, BEAniT AND PLEA3TTEB. 
 
 ^»d^," said Fidelia, " and to let me lire with you 
 hjrceforth, for I detest and loathe this place !" 
 
 " Eest assured," interjected Silvio, "that your 
 welfare, Fidelia, shall ever henceforth be our care ! 
 Tou hare every claim upon our gratitude ! But 
 what is now to be done P— for I tremble, beautiful 
 Ciprina, lest the Trefect should return at any mo- 
 ment to my apartment 1" 
 
 "There need not be an instant's delay," re- 
 sponded Cipt-ina. "But there is a deed more or 
 less desperate for you to perform, my lord " 
 
 "Name it! name it !" eiclaimed Silvio. "Mine 
 is a position that will not salTer me to be daunted 
 by a trifle !" 
 
 " That sentinel in the yard below," rejoined 
 Ciprina, with an anxious look— " he constitutes 
 the only barrier between ourselves and freedom ! 
 Fidelia has possessed herself of all the necessary 
 keys — a carriage is ia waiting at a little distance— 
 we have passports made out in fictitious names— 
 in short, my lord " 
 
 "How am I to deal with that sentinel?" in- 
 quired Silvio. "Shall I kill him?-or shall I 
 risk everything on the issue of a struggle ?" 
 
 "There must be no bloodshed if it can be 
 avoided !" interposed Fidelia, with a visible shud- 
 der. "If you feel yourself strong and confident, 
 my lord, you may overpower him with a blow — 
 you may stun him " 
 
 "But if a single cry escapes his lips," added 
 Ciprina, " we are lost ! Dearest Fidelia, you 
 must consent, as I have already told you, to leave 
 this matter entirely to the Viscount !" 
 
 " Be it so," said the girl : but her beautiful 
 face was very pale. 
 
 " Take this, my lord," said Ciprina, presenting 
 • dagger to Silvio. "The handle is heavy — if 
 you grasp the blade, you miy perhaps deal a blow 
 that shall deprive the man of consciousness— and 
 if we only gain five minutes, it will prove suffi- 
 cient for our purpose ! Come, Fidelia : let us de- 
 part. Every instant's delay is fraught with dan- 
 ger!" 
 
 Ciorina and Fidelia now enveloped themsslves 
 in cloaks which they had in readiness: the Vis 
 count put on bis own cloak, beneath which he 
 grasped the dagger with the determination of 
 using it as effectually as circumstances might de- 
 mand. Fidelia peeped forth from the apartment : 
 the passage outside was clear ; and they all three 
 hastened along it, Fidelia leading the way. At 
 the extremity there was a door, which the young 
 Italian girl opened by means of a pass-key of 
 which she had possessed herself; and a staircase 
 was revealed. When the threshold was crossed 
 the door was closed and locked again ; but as the 
 staircase was involved in total darkness, they were 
 compelled to descend it cautiously. On reaching 
 the bottom, Fidelia said in a whisper to Silvio, 
 " My lord, there is a door which opens into the 
 court-yard. I will leave it ajar for a few instants, 
 —the tread of the sentinel's feet will enable you 
 to judge how to act — watch your opportunity— and 
 if bloodshed can be avoided, for heaven's sake go 
 not to extremes. Ifotheniise " 
 
 She stopped short, with a gasping sound in her 
 throat ; and in the trepidation which seized upon 
 her, she dropped the pass-key on the stone floor of 
 the little ve^dbule at tho bottom of the stairs. 
 
 ** For heaven's sake, be cautious, Fidelia !" 
 
 28? 
 
 said Ciprina, startled by the sound which t!ie key 
 thus made. 
 
 "I am completely self-possessed," said tho 
 young girl, now speaking in a calm tone. 
 
 The next instant the key was heard slightly 
 grating in the lock — the door moved on its hinges 
 —and a faint glimmering of light from without 
 was thrown through the opening into tho vestibule. 
 All was now breathless attention there. Tlio foot- 
 steps of the sentinel were heard at the extremity 
 of the yard— likewise the voice of the man, 
 for he was humming a tune. Slowly he began to 
 retrace his way ; and as he approached the door, 
 Silvio closed it almost completely, but keeping 
 himself in readiness to tear it open when the suit- 
 able moment should arive. The sentinel drew 
 nearer and nearer, still humming his tune: now 
 he passed the door— then quick as thought that 
 door was opened— and Silvio glided over the thresh- 
 old. Following Ciprina's suggestion, he grasped 
 the blade of the dagger with his right hand : with 
 his left he suddenly seized upon the soldier, whose 
 shako fell off— and in the twinkling of an eya the 
 heavy hilt of the poniard came in violent con- 
 cussion with his head. Down he fell as if shot 
 through the heart; and Silvio was fortunate 
 enough to catch the man's musket, so that it fell 
 not with crashing sound upon the stone pavement 
 of the yard. It was all the work of a moment — 
 but a moment of fearful suspense for Ciprina and 
 Fidelia ! 
 
 Silvio dragged the sentinel into the little vesti- 
 bule, assuring the lady and her attendant that the 
 man was not dead, but merely rendered senseless 
 by the blow. Fidelia dosed the door upon the 
 unconscious soldier, and locked it. She hastily 
 led the way across the court-yard : she opened s 
 door on the other side; and this afforded admis- 
 sion into a dark corridor, which was quickly 
 threaded. At the extremity there was another 
 door, which tho pass-key opened : and the three 
 adventurous individuals now entered a small gar- 
 den attached to the Prefecture. 
 
 "We are safe!" said Fidelia, in accents of exul- 
 tation. 
 
 Most welcome was this announcement to Silvio, 
 and scarcely less so to Ciprina, as Fidelia led the 
 hurried way along the gravel walk which was shaded 
 by evergreens. They reached the garden- wall ; 
 tho gate was quickly opened : and they issued 
 forth into a narrow street which was bounded by 
 that garden wall on one side, and by a range of 
 high buildings on the other. Along the street 
 they sped ; and it was at the extremity of this 
 throughfare that they expected to find the vehicle 
 which Fidelia had engaged to be in attendance 
 there. But no such equipage was on the spot. 
 Was it a mistake ? The driver of the vehicle had 
 received half of his remuneration beforehand, so 
 that his services might, as it was thought, be effec- 
 tually secured : but still ho was not there. What 
 was to be done? There were few public vehicles 
 in that particular quarter of Naples ; and it would 
 be dangerous for the fugitives to penetrate into 
 the more frequented parts where a hackney-coach 
 could be procured. They all three stood still and 
 listened in the hope of hearing the approach of 
 wheels. But no such welcome sound reached 
 them. The case seemed almost desperate— or at 
 least a desperate effort must be made to meet thi'
 
 AOSB8; OB, 
 
 ASD PLBAGrSa. 
 
 emergency. Time was slipping awaj ; and it their 
 
 I flight from the Prefecture were discovered, the 
 
 I streets would be quickly inundated by the police 
 
 ' spies in search of them. Ciprina was trembling 
 
 , with alarm lest she should again fall into the power 
 
 of the Chief of Police : Fidelia was ready to sink 
 
 ; with affright at the thought of being dragged 
 
 back into the presence of her stern harsh father. 
 
 Silvio saw that the ladj and the young girl were 
 
 alike incapable of rendering any assistance : and 
 
 suddenly making up his mind, he said, " Remain 
 
 you here for a few minutes — be sure not to leave 
 
 the spot— 1 will hasten off in a direction where 
 
 there is a chance of obtaining a conveyance." 
 
 j Away sped Silvio ; and scarcely had he reached 
 
 the next street, when he heard the sounds of an 
 
 equipage approaching. He stopped — it speedily 
 
 came up— it was passing — it was an unoccupied 
 
 hackney-chaise ; and he hailed the driver. 
 
 " 1 can't stop, sir ? I am engaged !" exclaimed 
 the man. 
 
 " What ! Nino Corso P" ejaculated the Viscount 
 io a tone of joy. 
 
 Kino, instantaneously recognising that voice, 
 pulled in his horse ; and Silvio, hastening forward, 
 I said, " This is a most fortunate meeting, good 
 Nino ! Xou know who I am— you and I have 
 met before:"— and he made the sign which shewed 
 him to be a member of the secret political organi- 
 zation to which they had both belonged. 
 
 " Tes, I know you, my lord," answered Nino 
 Corso; " and I knew also that you were in Naples ; 
 for the porter of the house where I live, told me 
 eo — as did likewise your good father," added 
 Nino, leaning down from the box of the vehicle, 
 ' and whispering these last words in the low tone 
 of extreme caution. " Alas, my lord ! have you 
 heard the sad intelligence .= The Countess of 
 
 "Yes, yes, Nino— I have heard of it— and I 
 am distressed :" replied Siivio. " But I want 
 your equipage. Tou must take me— and you 
 must drive round to the corner of the next 
 
 I street " 
 
 ^ " I can take you, my lord, if you like— and with 
 , pleasure too I" replied Nino : " but I cannot go an 
 ' inch out of my way, nor receive any additional 
 
 company." 
 i " But ycu must ! you must !" ejaculated Sil 
 I vehemently. " I have two companions waiting 
 . for me — a lady and her maid — the case is 
 
 gent " 
 
 ' " My lord," interjected Nino, " I cannot help 
 ] it. Tou really must not press i29 1 In a « 
 , 1 am engaged to take your own father ou 
 ' Naples." 
 
 "My father!" ejaculated Silvio. "And where 
 ; iaheP" 
 
 *'Ah, my lord!" responded Nino mournfully; 
 I " where should his lordship be under such distreas- 
 
 ; iiig circumstances, but by the bedside " 
 
 [ "You do not mean, Nino," said the Viscount, 
 ' " that my father has gone to his own mansion ?" 
 "Yes— I do mean it, my lord. He told Bene- 
 
 detla that is the name of my wife, my lord 
 
 1 . that he was going there with Signor De Vere. 
 
 1 just now ran home for something I had for- 
 [ gotten— and Benedetta told me that they had only 
 set off a few minutes previous. Come, my lord — 
 jump in— time presses " 
 
 "No, no, Nino!" interjected the Viscount : "I 
 cannot go with my father. Ah ! those aouods ! 
 Good night, Nino ! good night ! Pursue your 
 way !" 
 
 Having thus spoken, the Viscount Di Camerino 
 darted off — for he had heard the noise of a vehicle 
 passing along at the lower extremity of the street 
 where this incident took place; and he felt assured 
 that it must be the one which Fidelia had eu. 
 gaged. 
 
 " Good night, my lord," answered Nino Corso i 
 and whipping his horse he pursued his way, won- 
 dering at the young nobleman's excitement. 
 
 The Viscount hurried along the street in the 
 opposite direction : but all of a sudden he was 
 pounced upon by half-a-dozen police agents; and 
 close at hand he recognised the Prefect himself. 
 One of these agents happened to be the very man 
 who had recognised him on the preceding night; 
 and thus he had now no difEoulty in again dis- 
 cerning at a glance who was the wearer of that 
 muffling cloak and that broad-brimmed slouching 
 hat. Kesistance was utterly vain, although the 
 Viscount still had the dagger about his person : he 
 was at once overpowered, and confronted with the 
 Chief of the Police. 
 
 " Keep at a little distance," said the Minister to 
 his egents ; " and leave the prisoner with me.— 
 My lord," he continued, as the cilicials dispersed 
 on different sides of the street, some before and 
 some behind, so that Silvio continued as com- 
 pletely a captive as when their iron grasp was 
 upon him, — "my lord, you have performed an in- 
 famous part; and I now ask you whether you are 
 ready to fulfil your compact— or whether you will 
 return to the Prefecture, to be thence consigned to 
 a dungeon, and thence to be transferred to the 
 scaffold? Speak, my lord — yes or no?— and if 
 your answer be in the atlirmative, hold yourself 
 prepared to act at once ; for you shall not have 
 another chance of deceiving me !" 
 
 "I will fulfil my compact," replied the Vis- 
 count, shuddering at the fearful alternative that 
 was held out. " But do you, my lord, still adhere 
 to your own side of the bargain ?" 
 
 "I will!" answered the Chief of the Police. 
 " Look !" he continued, as he drew the Viscount 
 near to a lamp and drew forth a paper : " here ia 
 your pardon — it is duly signed by the King. 
 When your father is ia my power it shall ba 
 placed in your hands. Now, then, which way do 
 we go ?" 
 
 " This way," answered the Viscount, pointing ia 
 a particular direction. 
 
 ' Good 1" said the Chief of the Police, 
 young nobleman's arm with his left 
 
 takii 
 
 then with his right he drew forth a pistol, adding 
 coolly, " You see, my lord, that it will be useless 
 for you to attempt an escape. Moreover my men, 
 who ate interspersed about, remain upon the 
 alert ; and at the first sign of a treacherous in- 
 tent on your part, you shall be shot down like a 
 dog." 
 
 " I will fulfil my promise," replied Silvio. " You 
 cannot wonder, my lord, that I should endeavour 
 to escape from the Prefecture when the chanco 
 threw itself in my way : but now that it haa 
 failed, I am glad enough to fall back upon our r 
 
 ' As for tbtt
 
 A3NES; OE, BSAUTY AND PLEASUES. 
 
 LCCREZIA MTRANa 
 
 worthless mistress of mine who aided in jour 
 escape, and who fled in jour companj, she may 
 go her wajs— and 1 rejoice that I am well rid of 
 ber. She maj take the girl too " 
 
 I '• Your Eicellency therefore knows everything f " 
 
 I (aid SiWio inquiringk. 
 
 I No. 37.— Ao'km. 
 
 " lou see that I do," rejoined the Chief of tiM 
 Police. "The sentinel, my lord, whom you struck 
 down, is suffering severely from the blow — and 
 perhaps he may not recover. As for your attempt 
 at escape, I certainly ought not to wonder at it t 
 but it ia fortunate for my riewa," added tii*
 
 Ministpr tlrilj, " lliat it has not succeeded. Aod 
 now wbi;her are jou le-din^ us ?" 
 
 "To the Camerino Mansion," replied Silvio. 
 
 " The Camerino Mansion ?" ejaculated the Pre- 
 fect. " Is it possible that jour father has been all 
 the lime harboured Ihrre ?" 
 
 " So, my lord— he has not," interrupted SiWio ; 
 "and it has now become unnecessarj to tell your 
 Ejccllency where he did live. I am already about 
 to perpetrate sufiBcient aiiscbief, without compro- 
 mising the safety of other persons. It is enough 
 for you to know that at the Camerino Mansion my 
 father will be found." 
 
 The Chief of the Pulice and Viscount Silvio 
 now walked on together in silence, the police- 
 agents pursuing their own way, one by one, at a 
 little distance — yet scattering themselves in such a 
 manner as to be ready at a moment's warning to 
 cut oif Silvio's retreat in case he should attempt 
 to fly. They soon came in the neighbourhood of 
 the Camerino Mansion ; and Silvio said, " Be kind 
 enough to remember that portion of our compact 
 which stipulated that my father should not learn 
 who was the author of his betrayal." 
 
 " It shall be remembered, my lord," said the 
 Prefect. "Here we halt." 
 
 The Minister made a sign for his men to ap- 
 proach him ; and he said, " Go, some of you, to 
 the Camerino Mansion — and arrest the Count, 
 whom you will find there. Do not suSer it to 
 transpire in his presence that you have seen bis 
 son with me. Molest no one else within the 
 walls of that habitation." 
 
 Four of the police-agents at once started fop. 
 nard to do the bidding of their Chief, who re- 
 mained with the prisoner and the other two sbirri 
 in the shade of an archway leading to some con- 
 ventual establishment- Scarcely had the four 
 cfBcials set off to the door of the Camerino Man- 
 sion, which was about fifty yards distant, when a 
 chaise came along at a rapid rate. 
 
 " See who is in that vehicle," said the Chief of 
 the Police, significantly, to one of his men. " We 
 shall require a carriage immediately ; and perhaps 
 that one may serve our purpose." 
 
 Toe ifEcial thus addressed, hastened forward 
 and commanded the driver of the vehicle to stop. 
 The man at once obejed, for police-law was para- 
 mount in Naples ; and the official, on opening 
 the door, beheld two feaiales enveloped in cloaks. 
 That significancy with which the Prefect had 
 issued his orders, was evidently well understood 
 by the agent : for he said, " Come, ladies, you 
 must show your passports if not your faces." 
 
 Fidelia, who was one of those two females, could 
 not repress a cry of terror ; and the official ex- 
 claimed, " Ah ! what ?— are these the missing 
 birds? Tuu had belter alight, both of you, and 
 ojme and speak to our Chief." 
 
 The Minister now summoned his agent back to 
 the gateway ; and consigning Silvio to the care of 
 the two shirri, he went forward to the vehicle. 
 
 " Descend immediately !" he said. " Tou, 
 Fidelia, return to your father and beseech bis 
 
 The trembling girl alighted; and as at that very 
 instant another police-agent was passing by, the 
 Minister handed her over to his care, ordering 
 l.im to conduct her back to the Prefecture. 
 Fidelia endeavoured to gasp forth something — but 
 
 IXU PLKASUEB. 
 
 she could not ; 
 
 od the police-agent hurried ber 
 
 on. 
 
 " Ciprina," said the Minister, " you yourself, by 
 your conduct, have put an end to everything be- 
 twixt yourself and me. Go!— you are in posses- 
 sion of your freedom. I care not any longer to 
 keep in a gilded cage a bird that affects to be 
 pleased with my kindness, but who dissembles only 
 tor the purpose of finding the means of escape. 
 Depart !— and see that you are not within the pre- 
 cincts of Naples when the sun rises on the 
 morrow ; or rest assured it will be the worse for 
 you !" 
 
 Ciprina had descended from the vehicle ; and 
 the Prefect imperiously waved bis hand as a signal 
 that she should hasten ofif on foot. She gave not 
 utterance to a word, but sped away, only too much 
 rejoiced to find that she was really in posssession of 
 her freedom. 
 
 "Now," said the Cliief of the Police to the 
 driver of the vehicle, " turn and draw up at the 
 entrance of yonder mansion : for you have a pri- 
 
 We should observe, in order to fill up a little 
 gap in our narrative, that this was actually the 
 vehicle which Fidelia had engaged, as already 
 stated : but the driver of it happened to be a few 
 minutes behind his time. When be arrived upon 
 the spot where Ciprina and Fidelia were awaiting 
 bim, they bade him tarry for a few minutes, as 
 they expected the speedy return of some one who 
 was to accompany them. But ten minutes went 
 by, and Silvio did not make his appearance. Ci- 
 prina was dreadfully alarmed by the delay: Fide- 
 lia was sinking with terror. The minutes to 
 them seemed hours. At length selfishly consult- 
 ing their own safety only, they took their seats in 
 the vehicle, and ordered it to drive off. The result 
 has already been explained ; and it may appear to 
 be a miserably mean and petty vengeance which 
 the Prefect wreaked upon Ciprina to compel her 
 to descend from the chaise and go wandering 
 through the streets at that time of night in search 
 of another conveyance — but bis purpose was 
 twofold, and it was a double revenge which he 
 was thus taking, as the reader will presently see. 
 
 Scarcely was this incident accomplished, when 
 one of the police agents who had been sent into 
 the mansion to arrest the Count of Camerioo, 
 came harrying to the archway with the intel- 
 ligence that the capture was effected. A cjld 
 shudder swept through Silvio's form as he thus 
 heard the tidings which made him aware that bis 
 foul treachery had succeeded, and that he bad 
 given up bis own father to a dungeon and to the 
 scaffold ! 
 
 " Is the prisoner in the vehicle ?" inquired the 
 Chief of the Police. 
 
 " He is doubtless there by this time, my lord," 
 was the response. 
 
 The Minister then whispered a few hasty words 
 to the agent, who sped back towards the man- 
 
 " My lord," said Silvio, in a deep sombre tone, 
 " my iniquity is consummated— give me the price 
 of it ! The King's pardon and my immediate 
 freedom !" 
 
 "Yes— the King's pardon," said the Minister, 
 beginiog to feel about bis person as if for a docu- 
 ment. " Tae King's pardon, you say "
 
 AGXES; OE, BEAUir AND PLEiSUEB. 
 
 291 
 
 " Tesf my lord ! quick, for heaven's sake !" ex- 
 claimed Silvio impaiientiv; "and let me get be- 
 yond the atmospbere of Naples. It seems to me 
 fearfully oppressive ! Bat, Ah! what is this?" 
 
 The ejaculation was caused by the sudden 
 dashing'up of the vehicle to the front of the arch- 
 way, where it stopped short. 
 
 " It means," exclaimed the Prefect, in a tone 
 that was terribly maliiinant, " that as you would 
 have broken your compact if you had the power, 1 
 now break it, for 1 possess that power ! Here is 
 the King's pardon !" — and tearing the document 
 into fragments, he scattered the pieces at the 
 feet of the wretched Viscount. 
 
 A wild cry of anguish burst from Silvio's lips : 
 he felt frantic— as if he were going mad ! 
 
 " Ah, villain !" continued the Chief of Police, 
 "you would take away my mistress — would you? 
 You leagued with her against me! I have thrown 
 her upon the streets as an emblem of the wretched 
 fate to which she will sooner or later come down ; 
 and you, my lord, shall be borne back to captivity 
 in that very same vehicle which you doubtless 
 hoped would convey you into security afar from 
 Naples !" 
 
 " Miscreant !" CTclaimed Silvio, endeavouring 
 with a desperate effort to release himself from the 
 tbirri that he might spring upon the Minister and 
 hurl him on the ground— trample on him— or tear 
 him to pieces. 
 
 But firm was the grasp which those olHcials bad 
 npon him : the Minister gave vent to a mocking 
 laugh of triumph — the door of the chaise was 
 opened— and the Viscount was flung into the ve- 
 hicle. 
 
 " Silvio !" eiclaimed the Count of Camerino, 
 with a cry which showed that he recoiled from a 
 contact with his son as if from that of a venomous 
 reptile. " Unnatural boy !" 
 
 " Pardon, pardon, father !" cried Silvio, in ac- 
 cents of indescribable anguish ; " forgive me, 1 
 beseech you !" 
 
 But at that moment the voice of the Prefect 
 was heard at the window of the vehicle, saying, 
 '•■ My Lord Count of Camerino, it was your own 
 eon who betrayed you into my power!" 
 
 A moan of ineffable agony came from the lips 
 of the wretched father— a shriek of despair from 
 those of the son ; and the ejaculation, " Just 
 heaven !" was uttered by some one who came up 
 to the spot at the instant. 
 
 This last was Charles DeVerc, who thus reached 
 the scene in time to learn the horrifying tale of 
 Silvio's crowning iniquity. 
 
 The equipage drove away, guarded by the sbirri; 
 and the Chief of the Po'.ice, bending a stern look 
 upon our hero, demanded, " Who are you, Signor?" 
 
 " May it please your lordship," said the only 
 police-agent who now remained upon the spot, 
 " this young gentleman was with the Count of 
 Camerino, inside the mansion, at the time of his 
 arrest. But as your Excellency's orders were 
 positive, to molest no one except the Count him- 
 self " 
 
 " Good ! you have performed your duty," inter- 
 rupted the Minister : then turning to Charles, he 
 said, " Again I ask, who are you, Signor ?" 
 
 " My name is De Vere," was the reply ; " and 
 I im an attachS to the English Embassy." 
 
 "Ah! that is different!" said the Prefect, in- 
 
 stantaneously becoming affable and polilie. •' I 
 presume that it was some motive of private 
 friendship " 
 
 " I was present, my lord," answered Charles, 
 who knew the Prefect by sight, " when the body 
 of the unfortunate Countess was dragged forth 
 from the water " 
 
 "Enough, Signor!" sail the Minister. "I 
 seek not to penetrate any further into the circum. 
 stances attending your presence at the Camerino 
 Mansion. Good night, Siguor De Vere." 
 
 They separated,— the Minister returning to the 
 Prefecture in blithe and triumphant spirits, for he 
 had done a glorious night's work. He had cap. 
 tured the arch-conspirator the Count of Camerino 
 —he had revenged himself upon Silvio for fleeing 
 with his mistress— and he hr i punished that mis- 
 tress by affecting to cast her jff as if he cared no 
 longer for her, and by sending her adrift in the 
 streets as a symbol of what siie might expect her 
 eventual fate to be. As for Charles De Vere,— it 
 was with mingled sorrow and horror in his heart 
 at all that had just happened, that he bent his way 
 towards the residence of the Marquis of Ortona, 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 tUCBEZIA DI MIBANO. 
 
 VTe must return to the beautiful Cinrina. This 
 young lady was at first terribly affrighted when 
 the chaise was stopped and she found herself (as 
 she thought) once more thrown back into the 
 power of the agents of the police : but it was with 
 a sudden revulsion of joy that she hailed the 
 announcement of her liberty. She had been an- 
 noyed at being separated from Silvio, whose hand- 
 some person and elegant manners had made a cer- 
 tain impression on her, notwithstanding that their 
 acquaintance was so short ; and she was likewise 
 vexed at being separated from the faithful Fidelia. 
 But these sources of affliction were speedily merged 
 in her delight at finding herself emancipated from 
 the power of the odious Chief of Police. She had 
 money and jewels about her : and she had more, 
 over at a banker's in Florence a considerable sum 
 which she had paid into the hands of a banker 
 at Naples (with orders to transfer it to the Tuscan 
 capita!) prior to her introduction to captivity in 
 the Prefecture. Thus, though she understood full 
 well the vindictive significaucy with which the 
 Minister had thrown her upon the streets at that 
 time of night, she could afford to laugh at the in- 
 cident and to repel any foreboding fears in refe- 
 rence to the future. 
 
 She sped quickly along until two or three streets 
 were threaded ; for she deemed it just possible that 
 the Prefect might repent of having suffered her to 
 escape from his hands, and that he might send his 
 agents in pursuit. She however soon relaxed her 
 pace ; and remembering the warning which the 
 Prefect in his coward vindictiveness had given her 
 —bidding her beware how she shoul 1 he found in 
 Naples at the rising of the morrow's sun— she re- 
 solved to depart with the least possible delay. 
 
 Ciprina was proceeding in the direction of • 
 square where she knew there w.is a stand of 
 vehicles waiting for the teimiuation of the per-
 
 293 
 
 AONES ; OR, BEAOT 
 
 lormaoces at one of the principal theatrea, when 
 gbe stopped for an instant to make way fur an 
 eleganllj-dressed lady who was alighting from her 
 carriage at the entrance of an hotel. The equi- 
 page was a splendid one : the coachman and the 
 two footmen were dressed in gorgeous liveries ; 
 and the appearance of the lady LerEi-lf was most 
 distinguished. An ejaculation indicative of recog- 
 nition which burst from Ciprina's lips, met the ear 
 'jf this lady ; and stopping short, the latter ex- 
 claimed, " What ! is it possible ? Tou here and 
 alone at this time of night !" 
 
 " Your ladyship therefore recollects me," said 
 Ciprina, as she found her hand suddenly taken and 
 pressed in that of the handsome and distinguished 
 owner of the splendid equipage. 
 
 " Can I forget the kindness with which you 
 treated me," asked the lady, " when we were fellow, 
 passengers on board the steam-vessel from Malta ? 
 1 expected you would have favoured me with a 
 call in Naples, according to your promise " 
 
 "It was my intention," answered Ciprina ; " but 
 a thousand little circumstances occurred " 
 
 " M^ell, at last I meet you — and I am glad of 
 it," said the lady. " But do tell me how it hap- 
 pens that you are alone in the streets at this time 
 of night ? My carriage is at your service to take 
 you to your home. Ah ! by the bye, I ought to 
 have it]quired after your husband " 
 
 "With your ladyship's permission," interjected 
 Ciprina, " I will enter the hotel with you for a few 
 
 "By all means!" exclaimed the lady, who 
 seemed sincerely delighted at the proposal. " Shall 
 my carriage wait for you? ' 
 
 " No," replied Ciprina : and she accompanied 
 the lady into the hotel, while the splendid equi- 
 page immediately rolled away. 
 
 We will here pause to say a few descriptive 
 words in reference to the lady into whose society 
 Ciprina was thus suddenly thrown. She was an 
 Italian— but possessed ligdt hair, blue eyes, and 
 an exquisitely fair complexion. Her age might be 
 about dve-and-twenty. She was tall and superbly 
 formed, her figure having a slight inclination to 
 embonpoint, but without any injury to the excel- 
 lence of its symmetry. Her dress was elegant, — 
 the low and tight-fitting corsage, or rather sto- 
 macher, revealing more of a glowing bust than the 
 strictest modesty would permit to be displayed. 
 Her features were regular : the nose was perfectly 
 straight, and beautifully formed : but there was a 
 slightly sensuous expression in the configuration 
 of the mouth and the softly rounded chin. Yet 
 her face was remarkably interesting and pleasing, 
 —indicative of good nature, and almost invariably 
 with a winning halt-smile upon it. Her hair, of 
 a light golden auburn, was drawn back from her 
 stainless forehead ; and it clustered in myriads of 
 ringlets upon her bare shoulders, which were of the 
 purest whiteness. Altogether, she was a being 
 whom it was impossible to survey without a feel- 
 ing of interest ; and, as we have before said, her 
 appearance denoted the lady of distinction. We 
 may, therefore, as well observe, without the main- 
 tenance of farther mystery, that she possessed the 
 rank of a Marchioness — that her name was 
 Lucrezia Mirano— and that she was a native of 
 Tuscany. She was a widow, and enjoyed great 
 wealth. As the reader has seen, Ciprina hud been 
 
 T ASD PLEABtJEB. 
 
 enabled to render her some little service when 
 they were fellow-passengers on board a steam- 
 vessel ; and the good-natured Marchioness of Mi. 
 rano had not forgotten the attention she bad thus 
 received. 
 
 The noble lady had just returned from the thea- 
 tre ; and supper was served up on the table of her 
 apartment in the hotel. She begged Ciprina to 
 be seated, — treating her with the utmost kindness ; 
 for she fancie 1 that there was something wrong, 
 although she could not conjecture what it was. Ci- 
 prina had partaken of but little food throughout 
 the diy, for her mind had been agitated in respect 
 to the escape which was to be attempted in the 
 evening. She now therefore took her place at 
 the table, and ate with a good appetite. She was 
 gay and in good spirits on account of having 
 fallen in witli an acquaintance who treated her 
 with so much affectionate attention. 
 
 " Your ladyship asked me after my husband," 
 said Ciprina: "and I must frankly tell you, that 
 I have left him. I have experienced some strange 
 adventures : the Chief of the Neapolitan Police 
 has made love to me— and to be brief, I find myself 
 compelled to leave Naples before sunrise." 
 
 "Indeed?" ejaculated Lucrezia Mirano. "I 
 should express my sympathy with you, my dear 
 friend, did I not perceive that you are so gay, 
 cheerful, and happy as to be far beyond the neces- 
 sity of commiseration. But it is still possible that 
 I may be enabled to render you a service ; and if 
 such be the case, you have only to tell me how 
 I can further your views or interests. My purse 
 is entirely at your disposal " 
 
 " A thousand thanks, my dear Marchioness 1" 
 responded Ciprina : " but I am amply furnished 
 with funds. All that I shall ask you to do for 
 me is presently to order a postchaise " 
 
 " Whither are you going ?" inquired the Mar- 
 chioness. 
 
 " To Florence," was the reply. " I am anxious 
 to see the beautiful capital of Tuscany ; and more- 
 over I have money in the hands of a banker ia 
 that city." 
 
 "The coincidence is strange!" exclaimed Lu- 
 crezia Mirano. " You are aware that I am a native 
 of Tuscany : indeed Florence is my birth-place— 
 and it was my intention to set out to.morrow on 
 my return homeward. I had ordered my travel- 
 ling-carriage to be in readiness at ten o'clock in 
 the forenoon : but as you say that you are bound 
 to leave Naples before sun-rise, I will cheerfully 
 set off a few hours earlier than I originally in- 
 tended. You shall travel with me." 
 
 " Were it not for the disagreeable alteration 
 which your ladyship must thus make in your 
 plans entirely for my accommodation," observed 
 Ciprina, " I should most cheerfully and thank. 
 fully accept that proposal." 
 
 " And if this be the only reason why you hesi- 
 tate," rejoined the Marchioness, "you need not 
 consider it for another instant. The sun does not 
 rise at this Christmas season until a late hour; 
 and if we take our departure between six ancl 
 seven o'clock in the morning " 
 
 "It will suit me excellently," said Ciprina; 
 " and I again assure your ladyship of my sincereat 
 gratitude," 
 
 " Talk not to me of gratitude," exclaimed tbe 
 Marchioness : " the obligation ia mutual. V'>a
 
 A6HEe: OB, SEACIY ASD FLBASrBS. 
 
 wish to depart from Naples in a comfortable and 
 convenient manner, and jou will have a seat in 
 my travelling-carriage ; I on the other hand shall 
 obtain a pleasant and agreeable companion, in 
 whom I have already experienced no small degree 
 of interest, and to whom I am ready to proffer my 
 friendship." 
 
 "And that proffer is accepted with fervour, and 
 as warmly reciprocated," rejoined Ciprina. i 
 
 The Marchioness rang the bell : and the sum- 
 mons was answered by a page drest in plain clothes, 
 and who presented one of the most perfect speci- 
 mens of masculine beauty. His age was about 
 twenty: be had no beard nor whiskers — but a 
 finely pencilled black moustache contrasted with 
 the vermilion hue of his lips and the pearly white- 
 ness of his teeth. His hair was of raven dark- ; 
 ness, soft and glossy as that of a woman. His 
 slender figure seemed fitting to become a model 
 for a statue of the Apollo Belvidere : bis movements 
 and attitudes were full of an unstudied grace : his 
 manners were as polished as if he were a scion of j 
 the highest aristocracy instead of being a me- j 
 
 " Giulio," said the Marchioness, speaking in a 
 kind tone, and yet with all the dignity of a mis- 
 tress addressing a domestic, " you will be so good 
 as to order the travelling-carriage to be in readi- 
 ness at half-past six precisely. We shall proceed 
 with rapidity, and the barouche may therefore 
 follow at leisure. And remember, Giulio, the 
 picture must be taken the greatest care of." 
 
 The handsome page bowed and withdrew. Ci- 
 prina, while affecting to be engaged with some 
 fruit which she took from a crystal dish, had fur- 
 tively watched Giulio's countenance ; and she 
 failed not to notice the impassioned look which for 
 a moment he flung upon the Marchioness ; but it 
 was at the instant when the eyes of that lady were 
 being withdrawn from his face, so that she herself 
 probably observed it not. 
 
 " And now," said the Marchioness to Ciprina, 
 " we will retire to rest, if you please— as it is late, 
 and we have to rise early." 
 
 The Marchioness was occupying a spacious suite 
 of apartments at the hotel ; there was consequently 
 a chamber in readiness to receive Ciprina ; and 
 one of her ladyship's maids was appointed specially 
 to attend upon her. Ciprina sought her couch ; 
 and exhausted by the incidents of the evening, she 
 speedily fell into a profound slumber. She was 
 duly awakened at an early hour: all things requi- 
 site for her toilet were at hand ; and she presently 
 joined the Marchioness in the breakfast-room. 
 This lady welcomed her with kindness; and it 
 seemed as if the intimacy of friendship had already 
 sprung up between them. The repast being over, 
 they took their seats in the travelling-carriage, 
 which was drawn by four post-horses. The hand- 
 some page and a lady's-maid sat on the box: the 
 remainder of Lucrezia Mirano's domestic suite 
 were to follow in the other equipage. 
 
 " And thus," said the Marchioness, as the tra- 
 velling-carriage was rolling along tbe road outside 
 the precincts of the Neapolitan capital, — "and 
 thus, after being casually thrown together for a 
 little while on board a steam-vessel, we are now 
 reunited and journeying in each other's com- 
 panionship as if we were friends of old standing I" 
 "And X feel," responded Ciprina, "as if our 
 
 acquaintance had been one of years instead of 
 weeks ! But will you tell me, my dear Marchto- ] 
 ness " j 
 
 " Now let us understand each other," inter- 
 rupted the noble lady. " You have already told | 
 me that you are henceforth to be known by the j 
 name of Ciprina; and that the name by which I 
 first knew you must be regarded as having ceased j 
 to exist. Be it so ! I call you Ciprina. Tou 
 must call me Lucrezia : for if you address mo by | 
 my patrician titles, the warmth of my friendship | 
 stands a chance of being chilled by the coldness of | 
 ceremony and formality." 
 
 " Well then, my dear Lucrezia," said Ciprina, 
 " will you now tell me why you have lavished all ' 
 these kindnesses upon me. Almost at the very out- [ 
 set, last night, I informed you that I had separated j 
 from my husband ; and I fancied at the moment : 
 that there was a certain signiScancy in your | 
 smile, as if you did not believe that he was my 
 husband at all." j 
 
 " Certainly I did not believe it," answered the i 
 Marchioness, with a gay laugh which displayed 
 her magnificent teeth. " Without having been an 
 intentional listener, I heard something which 
 passed between you on board the steam-vessel, ' 
 which convinced me that the nuptial knot had not 
 been tied." i 
 
 " And thus, when I presented myself to you last ; 
 evening," continued Ciprina, "alone— at that late 
 hour — and under circumstances which, to say the ^ 
 least of them, were peculiar if not suspicious— i 
 you at once received me as it were with open 
 
 " But let me first of all ask you a question, my j 
 dear Ciprina," interrupted the Marchioness, with 
 another sweet smile. " How was it that you did [ 
 not hesitate at once to reveal the fact that you had 
 separated from your husband— or 1 would rather \ 
 say from him who had passed as your husband? 1 
 How was it, in a word, that you feared not to 1 
 present yourself to me in an equivocal position? 
 Did you think that I was not very fastidious, 
 and that I did not stand upon punctilios ? Come, 
 Ciprina, let the fullest confidence subsist between 
 us, that we may know each other at once and 
 thoroughly." 
 
 " Be it so," said Ciprina. " Tou have in your 
 suite, Lucrezia, a young page of a remarkable 
 beauty : and if you overheard something in re- 
 ference to myself on board the steam-vessel, I on 
 my part perceived something which made me sus- 
 pect that the Marchioness Di Mirano, although a 
 widowed lady, was not insensible to the sweet 
 sentiment of love." 
 
 A slight flush for an instant passed over the 
 exceedingly handsome countenance of Lucrezia; 
 and then, with a gay laugh, she said, " You are 
 right, Ciprina ! And now we begin to understand 
 each other!" 
 
 " I fancied," continued Ciprina, " that I bad 
 fathomed your real disposition; and hence the 
 frankness with which I spoke to you last evening. 
 I did not see the necessity of playing the part of 
 a prude in order to ingratiate myself into your 
 favour " 
 
 " And you were right !" rejoined Lucrezia. " In 
 a word, my dear friend, we tacitly understood each 
 ' other, although we had not then arrived at expla- 
 nations as we have now done. You are young
 
 BEAUir ASD PLFASUEE. 
 
 ODd beautiful ; and I see that you do not mean to 
 ehut yourself up in a convent or lead the life of a 
 nun. In respect to myself, I am rich — I am free 
 —I have not a relation in the world who can in 
 any way interfere with my pursuits or coerce me. 
 You love pleasure, Ciprina; your disposition is 
 breathed, so to speak, in your whole appearance. 
 I also love pleasure ; and there are no considera- 
 tions which prevent me from enjoying it. Observe 
 however ! 1 do not outwardly scaudalize the decen- 
 cies of society : such a course would be an outrage 
 to one's common sense. But to be a prude — no ! 
 that is a character which Lucrezia Di Mirano 
 never can become !" 
 
 " Without saying anything offensive," resumed 
 Ciprina,—" and indeed without meaning that the 
 similitude reaches to the fullest extent, 1 may 
 nevertheless observe that there is a singular re- 
 semblance between your style of personal beauty 
 and that which so eminently characterized a lady 
 of by-gone times who bore your Christian name. 
 I saw a portrait of her in one of tho galleries of 
 Naples " 
 
 " And would you believe it, Ciprina ?" exclaimed 
 the Marchioness ; " my object in visiting Naples 
 was to pui chase, if possible, that very picture ! I 
 had heard of it often ; I bad read descriptions of 
 it. From the lips of friends who had been in 
 Naples, I frequently heard enough to excite my 
 curiosity. 1 passed the summer, as you already 
 know, in Paris; and there I saw a copy of the 
 picture. 1 was struck with the resemblance which 
 it bore to myself; and I was resolved, if possible, 
 to possess the original, no matter at what cost. 
 For this purpose I visited Naples, I saw the pic- 
 ture ; and I was indeed fdr from being aston- 
 ished that those friends who had spoken of it 
 to me should proclaim that if I had originally sat 
 as the subject, the resemblance could not have 
 been more perfect. And yet it was painted cen- 
 turies before I was born " 
 
 " Yes, the resemblance is indeed perfect !" said 
 Ciprina "There is the same profile— the same 
 luxuriance of the golden hair— there are the 
 same blue eyes— the same superbly modelled 
 
 " Hush, hush, my dear friend !" said the Mar- 
 chioness, smiling gaily, though at the same time a 
 slight blush appeared upon her countenance : 
 " you will render me quite vain with your compli- 
 ments!" 
 
 " I am only speaking the truth," answered 
 Ciprina ; " for in personal beauty Lucrezia Borgia 
 was the exact prototype of Lucrezia Mirano ! But 
 did you succeed in purchasing the picture P" 
 
 " 1 did," answered the Marchioness. " It cost 
 an enormous sum ; but, as I have already told you, I 
 was deterojined if possible to possess it. At first the 
 trustees of the gallery absolutely refused to dispose 
 of it at any price : but when they perceived how 
 remarkable was the resemblance which existed 
 between myself and that portrait— and when they 
 heard that by some strange coincidence I bore the 
 same Christian name as the original of the picture 
 —they began to relent : they thought it indeed 
 only natural that I should long to have it, and 
 that it would therefore be a species of cruelty to 
 refuse the favour which I asked. Finally, an 
 affirmative reply was yesterday conveyed to me : I 
 paid the money— I received the picture— and the 
 
 business which brought me to Naples being thus 
 settled, 1 resolved to return to my native Florence 
 with the least possible delay. It was that same 
 picture concerning which you heard me give 
 Giulio such strict injunctions last evening." 
 
 " I congratulate you on having thus succeeded 
 in your aim," said Ciprina. " And now perhaps it 
 is the opportune moment for me to make another 
 little revelation which will help to account for tho 
 frankness with which I last night addressed you 
 and for the grounds on which I judged, when, as I 
 said, I fancied I had fathomed your real disposi- 
 tion. I met you first of all on board the steam- 
 vessel ; and there a little incident led me to sus- 
 pect that the handsome Giulio was something 
 more to his mistress than a mere page. Shortly 
 after my arrival at Naples, I beheld in the public 
 gallery that picture of which we have been speak- 
 ing. I was immediately struck with the extra- 
 ordinary resemblance which you bore to the 
 portrait: I looked in the catalogue — conceive 
 my astonishment on discovering that it was the 
 portrait of a princess who in her time was faoaous 
 for her amours and her gallantries ! Then I 
 thought to myself that if ever the external ap- 
 pearance would be typical of the feelings and 
 passions within, the glorious sunny beauty of the 
 Marchioness of Mirano must tell its tale to some 
 extent as accurately as that of Lucrezia Borgia !" 
 
 " Ah ! but you did well, my dear Ciprina," said 
 the Marchioness, with earnestness and emphasis, 
 " to qualify your observation somewhat. For it is 
 only to a certain extent that I can possibly re- 
 semble my personal prototype, the daughter of 
 Pope Alexander VI. I should be insiilting myself 
 if I were to say more than a few words which are 
 necessary to convey the assurance that I am ut- 
 terly incapable of the crimes which were perpe- 
 trated by that infamous woman." 
 
 " Goiid heavens, my dear Lucrezia 1" exclaimed 
 Ciprina, "such an assurance is indeed most unne- 
 cessary from your lips!" 
 
 " Yes," continued the Marchioness, " I do not 
 hesitate to avow that I may possess the frailties 
 and the weaknesses, if such terms be appropriate, 
 that characterized Lucrezia Borgia : but beyond 
 that limit — no, Ob, no !" — and she shuddered 
 visibly. " I have studied deeply the charac- 
 ter of Lucrezia Borgia : I have read every 
 history which treats of her career — 1 have pro- 
 cured copies of the old manuscripts deposited 
 amongst the archives of Eome and Forrura, which 
 in any way bear reference to the incidents of her 
 life. You cannot be surprised that I should have 
 experienced such an ardent curiosity in reference 
 to one whose Christian name I bear, and whose 
 portrait 1 so much resemble. But there was a 
 still deeper object in this study on my part " 
 
 "And what may have been that object?" in- 
 quired Ciprina, much interested in the turn which 
 the conversation had taken. 
 
 " To tell you the truth, my dear friend," con 
 tinned the Marchioness, " I was affrighted when a 
 few years ago I first learnt how wonderful was the 
 resemblance which I bore to the famous, or rather 
 infamous Lucrezia Bjrgia. I was all the more 
 terrified at the thought that evsn to my very 
 Christian name did this resemblance extend, 1 
 asked myself whether it were possible that in the 
 course of time I could become still more Idea-
 
 srs; OK, BEACIT 
 
 293 
 
 »ified with the realitj of that character, aud who- 
 Iher mj own career coul.l to a still greater extent 
 be regarded as a fulfilment of a prototypical pro- 
 diction ? Then it was that I bfgan to study the 
 life of Luorezia Borgia. I wished to ascertain 
 whether she were wilfully and deliberately wicked, 
 •nd that she committed crimes which any other 
 persoD similarly situated at the time might have 
 easily avoided ; or whether they were the inevi- 
 table necessities, so to speak, of her own position. 
 I sought to discern whether she were a criminal 
 without justification, or whether she were the vio- 
 
 " And the result of your investigation," said 
 
 Ciprina, " was that " 
 
 "She was a wicked, wilful, deliberate criminal," 
 answered the Marchioness; "and that not one 
 single deed of horror and turpitude which she 
 committed was actually necessitated by her posi- 
 tion. Crime may have suited her convenience : 
 but still it was in no sense so imperative as to 
 constitute an eitenuation. Well then, my mind 
 grew tranquil — it threw otF the trouble which had 
 oppressed it; for I felt that though there was an 
 identity of name and a remarkable personal re- 
 semblance, yet that neither this identity nor simi- 
 litude need extend any further, and that it would 
 be my own deliberate wilful fault if there were 
 any parallelism, so to speak, between our careers 
 and our destinies." 
 
 In this manner did the ladies converse for a 
 considerable time after the travelling-carriage had 
 issued from the precincts of Naples. There was 
 now a pause, which was however speedily broken 
 by the Marchioness, who said, " You have not yet 
 told me, Ciprina, what are your plans and what 
 are your views in visiting Florence?" 
 
 " In one sense, my dear Lucrezia, I resemble 
 yourself," answered Ciprina : " I have no relations 
 and no friends who can exorcise any control or 
 coercion over my proceedings : I am altogether my 
 own mistress. I am young in life; and my object 
 is to enjoy it fully. I seek for happiness and 
 pleasure according to my whims, fancies, or incli- 
 nations. When I thought of leaving Naples, I 
 bad no particular view in visiting Florence, be- 
 yond the idea that it was a city of delight which 
 would prove agreeable to me as a place of resi- 
 dence, at least for a time." 
 
 "I am glad you have dealt thus candidly with 
 me," said Lucrezia. " Will you be my guest at 
 Florence ? I possess a palace in the city itself, 
 and a beautiful villa in the Tale of Aroo. Tou 
 shall be entirely your own mistress; and if you 
 choose to be alone, you may live at the palace 
 when I am at the villa— or you may regard the 
 villa as your own when 1 am at my town- 
 
 " I should not wish to be separated from you," 
 answered Ciprina, 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed the Marchioness, gaily and 
 significantly, " there may he occasions when it 
 may suit your convenience as well as mine to be 
 alone — or at least I mean to have the fullest op- 
 portunity of throwing a veil of mystery over one's 
 proceedings. But nhen you reach Florence you 
 will see whether you like my palace and my villa; 
 and I can assure you that ail the attentions which 
 friendship is willing to bestow, and which wealth 
 tnablea its possessor to aifurd, shall be shown to- 
 
 • wards you. Live with mo as long as such an 
 existence is agreeable to you— and the longer the 
 better. If you leavo me, it will not be through 
 any alteration of demeanour on my part ; for such 
 as you now find mc, so shall I always prove. I 
 have taken a liking to you : I have conceived a 
 friendship — an affectionate interest — a sisterly 
 love I may even denominate it : and I am sure 
 we shall be happy together." 
 
 "Oh! it will indeed be my fault if it should 
 prove otherwise !" exclaimed Ciprina : and the 
 two ladies warmly shook each other by the hand. 
 
 There now seemed to be a thorough under- 
 standing between them. The Marchioness Si 
 Mirano sought no explanation in reference to Ci- 
 prina's antecedents ; and Ciprina gave none. In 
 reference to herself, however, Lucrezia volunteered 
 some particulars of her own history. 
 
 " My parents," she said, " belonged to a noble 
 race, but they had fallen into comparative poverty. 
 I was an only child ; and as I grew up, my father 
 (for my mother died in my girlhood) studied to 
 form for me what is termed a brilliant alliance. 
 Accordingly, when I was sixteen, I was intro- 
 duced to the Marquis Di Mirano, who immediately 
 began to pay me attentions which I first looked 
 upon as the innocent unmeaning caresses that a 
 good-natured old man might bestow upon a child. 
 For he was at least sixty years of age^and T, as 
 I tell you, was sixteen. I was therefore one day 
 very much taken by surprise when he asked if I 
 come his wife ? I thought he was jest- 
 ing ; and I ran laughing to my father to tell him 
 of the excellence of the joke. My father however, 
 assured me that it was no jest at all ; for that I 
 xompany the Marquis to the altar. He 
 proceeded to represent that the Marquis was im- 
 mensely rich — that ha possessed estates producing 
 incely revenue— a palace in the city^ a villa in 
 the Vale, and a chateau in the country— that be 
 had no heirs nor relations to look coldly upon me 
 or make me unhappy— and that it rested with my- 
 self to become a titled bride, with the certainty of 
 soon being a rich widow, envied and courted by 
 all fashionable society. I listened with intereat: 
 my heart was free — 1 did not know what love was 
 — I had therefore no positive sacrifice of feeling 
 to make. 1 was dazzled by the prospects held 
 out ; and I gave my assent. I married the old 
 Marquis ; and a year afterwards I found myself a 
 widow. My father died at about the same time. 
 I was thus altogether my own mistress ; and X re- 
 solved to remain so. As you may easily suppose, 
 I soon received numerous offers of marriage ; and 
 many would have been considered by the world to 
 be advantageous alliances : hut X refused them all. 
 I have never known what love is ; and I do not 
 think that I shall ever experience the sentiment 
 in the same way that others have experienced it, 
 and as I have read of it in poems, novels, and 
 romances." 
 
 "Be not too sure, my dear Lucrezia!" said 
 Ciprina : " the heart is sometimes surprised at a 
 looment when the presence of the littlo god with 
 his bow and arrow is least suspected." 
 
 "X have no fear," replied the Marchioness, with 
 a smilei "and nothing should induce me to sur- 
 render up the freedom which I now enjoy. I will 
 not stand the chance of giving my fortune to be 
 dissipated by a spendthrift, nor my feelings to be
 
 29Q 
 
 AGMBS; on, BEAUTT 
 
 PLEASUEE. 
 
 outraged hy a libertine. I haro whims and 
 caprices in respect to the other sex— but no 8U9- 
 oeptibilitj of permanent passion. You have dis- 
 covered, and 1 have confessed, that I am not vir- 
 tuous : but this is the tenour of existence vrhich I 
 Lope to lead for many a long year to come." 
 
 Ciprina herself was not virtuous : but still she 
 could not help gazing with a momentary feeling of 
 astonishment upon her new friend who unhesi- 
 tatingly avowed her libertinage, but who never- 
 theless, by her speech, her look, and her manner, 
 threw over it so exquisite a gloss that it did not 
 look like profligacy or depravity. Yet Cipriua's 
 astonishment quickly passed away, as the convic- 
 tion rushed into her mind that there was after all 
 very little difference, if any, between her own dis- 
 position and that of Lucrezia Mirano. 
 
 The distance from Naples to Florence is about 
 two hundred and fifty miles; and though Italian 
 travelling is none of the fleetest, yet the liberal 
 expenditure of money ensured relays of the best 
 post-horses which each successive station could 
 lurnisb ; and there were no unnecessary halts by 
 the way. Two nights were passed upon the road ; 
 and at length the equipnge entered the Tuscan 
 capital. Ciprina was prepared to find Lucrezia's 
 mansion a handsome one; but she bad little anti- 
 cipated the degree of splendour to which all the 
 details of the establishment reached. The struc- 
 ture itself veritably deserved the name of a 
 falazzo : it was furnished in a style of palatial 
 magnificence ; and the hosts of servants of all de. 
 scriptions seemed innumerable. The gardens at- 
 tached to the palace were laid out after the fashion 
 of those at Versailles, near Paris. In the plea- 
 sure-grounds there were water-works and foun- 
 tains, pavilions and arbours, groups of exquisitely 
 modelled statues, avenues of orange trees, conser- 
 vatories, and green-bouses. As ne bave already 
 hinted, the interior of the palace was sumptuous 
 to a degree : no expense had been spared in the 
 appointments of the numerous suites of apart- 
 ments; and everywhere within those walls the 
 most admirable and interesting works of art might 
 be seen. Statues and pictures, objects of virtil and 
 a profusion of the costliest nick-nacks, met the eye 
 on all sides. All these things were entirely to 
 Ciprina's tajte ; end she thus received anotber 
 pro»f of the resemblance which subsisted between 
 her own disposition and that of her new friend. 
 It was left to Ciprina to select for herself the suite 
 of apartments which she chose to occupy ; and a 
 numerous bevy of domestics were assigned to her 
 special service. Particular equipages were also 
 appointed for her own individual use when she 
 chose to separate her proceedings and arrange- 
 ments from those of the Marchioness ; and thus 
 everything was done to fulfil the various promises 
 which Lucrezia had made her during the journey. 
 It appeared to be the realization of a beautiful 
 dieam! 
 
 On the morrow the piclure which the Marchio- 
 ness had purchased at Naples, was put up in the 
 gallery. It represented Lucrezia Borgia in an 
 elegant costume voluptuously displaying the rich 
 contours of her bust — a book in her hand — but 
 her countenance turned in a manner to reveal a 
 full view of its beauty, while its expression was 
 that of a soft sensuous significancy. 
 
 " I shall never think of that portrait," said 
 
 Ciprina, " as being intended to represent the 
 Pope's daughter. I shall always look upon it, my 
 dear Lucrezia, as ihe portrait of yourself. Ah ! 
 and you are now dressed, too, in a style which 
 fully bears out the resemblance ! Pray take a 
 book ia your hand— place yourself next to these 
 evergreens so as to form a background— and now 
 turn your face towards me, just as that counte- 
 nance seems to be looking out of the canvass. 
 There ! that smile too— that involuntary smile 
 that you gave — Oh! the resemblance is indeed 
 marvellously striking !" 
 
 This little scene took place after the withdrawal 
 of the domestics who had hung up the picture, and 
 when the two ladies were alone together in the 
 gallery. And Ciprina was right. The resem- 
 blance was indeed wonderful; and a stranger un- 
 acquainted with the facts, could not have failed to 
 imagine that it was veritably the portrait of 
 Lucrezia Di Mirano which was suspended there. 
 
 CHAPIEE L- 
 
 THE C0KFES3I0F. 
 
 Wb must now return to the Count of Camerino 
 and his wretched son, whom we left at the instant 
 when they were thrown together inside the chaise 
 which the Chief of the Police had caused to be 
 stopped that it might convey them both to the 
 Prefecture. It would be diflicult to conceive a 
 state of mind more terribly harrowing, more 
 poignant in its excruciating tortures than that 
 which was endured by Silvio. All his various 
 projects, his hopes, and his expectations bad been 
 shattered and levelled with the dust. Separated' 
 from Ciprina and arrested by the police, he had 
 found himself forced suddenly to fall back upon 
 the parricidal idea that by surrendering up his 
 sire to the grasp of the law, he might ensure his 
 own safety as well as the heritage of the paternal 
 estates. But this last resource was likewise de- 
 stroyed, as a project of such stupendous infamy 
 only too well deserved to be!— and all his guilt 
 was made known to his sire— all the satanic 
 wickedness of his conduct throughout its black 
 details was revealed to the knowledge of that out- 
 raged parent! 
 
 The miserable young man sank down in the 
 chaise, and grovelled at the feet of the Count, 
 murmuring, in the most piteous accents, " Forgive 
 me, father !— forgive me!" 
 
 " Silence, unnatural boy !" sternly replied the 
 Count of Camerino. " There are offences beyond 
 all pardon— and yours are of that character ! Ob, 
 the execrable refioement of cruelly which has 
 thrown us thus together I" 
 
 " Father," said Silvio, his voice sounding hoarse 
 and unnatural, " if you have a weapon about you, 
 plunge it into my heart — for I am unfit to live !" 
 
 " Wretch !" cried the Count : " would you seek 
 to make me as vile aod iniquitous as you are f I 
 have no weapon : but even if I had, you would be 
 safe with me— for it is not my hand that shall 
 avenge all the wrongs that I have sustained. 
 Miserable boy ! you ere in the terrilsle grasp of the 
 law ; and even if by any miracle you were to 
 escape from it, yet heaven itself would wreak a ,
 
 terrible Teogeance upon your head! And now 
 address me not again. Let it seem as if the stone 
 wall Bepaiating two dungeons had already sprung 
 up between us : for so it will presently be 1" 
 
 "And perhaps, father," said Sikio, " the next 
 time we meet, it will be upon the platform of the 
 BCaffuld— and then— Oh! t/ten will you refuse me 
 jour forgiveness ?" 
 
 Were it not dark inside the vehicle, Silvio 
 might have eutertained a momentary hope that 
 his prayer would be granted ; for the Count's lips 
 .juivered, and bis broad chest rose and fell with 
 the violence of the emotions that were agitating 
 within him. But quickly exerting an effort over 
 himself, be subdued those feelings — he crushed 
 them as it were beneath the iron heel of the 
 strongest resolution ; and he said, " Silvio, it will 
 only be when we stand together upon the threshold 
 of death that I can forgive you ! Yea —at the in- 
 itant when death shall be about to aepuate us— 
 Jfo. 35.— AoHBS. 
 
 whether it be on the point of striking both, or 
 only one— then, Silvio, may you kneel at my feet 
 
 and I will forgive you but not till then!" 
 
 The young Viscount groaned ; but he said no 
 more. Throwing himself into a corner on the seat 
 opposite to that where his father was placed, be 
 pulled his hat over his eyes, so that the lamp-light 
 lldshing into the vehicle should not reveal his 
 countenance to his sire, nor afford a chance of their 
 eyes meeting. Thus the chaise now proceedeil, in 
 silence so far as the prisoners were concerned ; and 
 the gate of the Prefecture was presently reached. 
 The vehicle passed under the gloomy frowning 
 archway : it entered the outer court-yard — and the 
 gates were then shut. The sbirri opened the door 
 of the chaise, and bade the prisoners alight. The 
 Count was the first to descend ; and he said to the 
 officials, " If you have the slightest scintillation of 
 mercy in your hearts, 1 entreat you to separate m9 
 at once from that miserable young m&o i"
 
 IGKES ; on, EE.ltJTV ASD PLEiSCEB. 
 
 *' Father,*' eaid Silvio, io the wildest tones of 
 the most passionate grief, as he threw himself at 
 his sire's feet, " I beseech and implore that you 
 will fnrgive mo ! Ob, for heaven's sake, forgive 
 
 " No — not now!" sternlj exclaimed the Count: 
 and be was then hurried away by the guards in one 
 direction, while Silvio was dragged off in another. 
 
 Leaving these two unhappy beings in the Pre- 
 fecture, we must return to Charles De Vere, who 
 in the meantime had proceeded to the mansion of 
 the Marquis of Oftona. That nobleman was on 
 the point of retiring to rest when the visit of our 
 hero was announced. lie at once received De 
 Vere; and the moment he entered the room where 
 the Marquis awaited him, the nobleman per- 
 ceived by his countenance that so'iie fearful cala- 
 mity had occurred. The truth was quickly marie 
 known. Silvio's last act of villany had been the 
 betrayal of his sire— retribution had however over- 
 taken the guilty young man— and both father and 
 eon were prisoners ! Tears rolled down the cheeks 
 of Charles as be told the tale, and of the Marquis 
 as he listened to it ; and the latter, clasping his 
 hands, exclaimed, " Oh, what a tissue of calamities 
 and horrors ! — and what heavy misfortunes have 
 fallen upon the head of my most valued friend the 
 Count of Camerino !" 
 
 " Here is a packet," said Charles, " which I was 
 charged to dsliver to your lordship. It was 
 given to me at a moment when the unfortunate 
 Count expected to succeed in accomplishing his 
 escape from Naples ; and therefore whether it be 
 now of any use, -jnder these painfully altered cir- 
 cumstances, for your lordship to inspect its con- 
 tents, remains to be seen." 
 
 The Marquis of Ortona broke the seal of the 
 envelope, wliich was fo'und to contain another 
 sealed packet, and likewise a paper covered with 
 writing. On the envelope of the sealed packet 
 were only these words—" To be opened after my 
 death." 
 
 The poper to which we have alluded contained 
 memoranda of instructions which the unfortunate 
 writer the Count of Camerino had wished to bo 
 carried out in case of his escape from Naples. 
 They chiefly bore reference to his establishment in 
 the capital— to the effect that his mansion was to 
 be shut up, and the domestics to he dismissed, 
 some with pensions and others with liberal pecu- 
 niary presents. 
 
 " But now," said the Marquis, " the mansion 
 will doubtless be confiscated by the Government : 
 yet in respect to the domestics my poor friend's 
 wishes shall be fully carried out. This packet," 
 he continued, alluding to the one on which were 
 written the instructions that it was not to be 
 opened until after the Count's death, "shall be 
 placed amongst my private papers. Alas ! I fear 
 that the day is not far distant whoa the seal of 
 that envelope must be broken !" 
 
 " Dj you really apprehend, my lord," inquired 
 Charles, with a sad tightening at the heart, " that 
 the utmost rigour of the law will be brought to 
 bear upon the Count o( Camerino?" 
 
 The Marquis shook his head gloomily, as much 
 as to imply that there was no hope ; and turning 
 away to conceal liis emotions— for the veteran was 
 weeping plenteously— he locked up the sealed 
 packet in a bureau. 
 
 Charles presently took his leave; and departing 
 from the Marq>iis of Ottona's mansion, he looked 
 about for a vetiicle to take him to the Embassy. 
 As he was proceeding along the street, he beheld 
 Father Falcunara come forth from a houie which 
 the youth was passing at the time. The priest re- 
 cognised Charles ; and approaching him, said in a 
 mournful voice, " How does my benefactor, the 
 unfortunate Count of Camerino, bear the heavy 
 calamities which have fallen upon his head ?" 
 
 " Alas!" replied T)i Vere, " your reverence has 
 yet to learn the particulars of the crowning mis- 
 fortune. The Count is a prisoner — betravcd iato 
 the hands of the police by his own son !" 
 
 An ejaculation of grief had burst from the lip» 
 of Father Faleonara on hearing that the Count 
 was a prisoner : but it was speedily followed by 
 one of indescribable horror on being informed that 
 by bis own son was he betrayed. 
 
 " No, no !" said the priest, " tell me not this, 
 Signor Da Vere I It would be suffi.-ient to make 
 one mistrust the whole human race to be told that 
 such an infamy had been perpetrated !" 
 
 "It is but too true," said Charles: "yes, only 
 too true ! Oh, it is impossible to conceive what 
 must now be the anguish of mind experienced by 
 him whom you love as your benefactor!" 
 
 "And where is the Count?" asked the priest. 
 " I will go to him— I will seek to comfort Ium-~ 
 we will kneel and pray together " 
 
 " He is doubtless at the Prefecture," inter- 
 rupted Charles : " for the Chief of the Police was 
 present upon the spot when the guilty son and the 
 unhappy father were thrown together. Indeed, it 
 appeared to he with a horribh) malignant joy that 
 the Chief of the Police proclaimed to the Count 
 the black turpitude of his son !" 
 
 " Ah! the Chief of the Police!" said Father 
 Faleonara, as if suddenly struck by some idea. 
 
 " Yes," replied Charles : " and according to all 
 accounts, be bears not a good repute for hu- 
 manity." 
 
 "The Chief of the Police!" again repeated 
 Father Faleonara ; and Da Vere was smitten by 
 the singular expression which the pale handsome 
 countenance of the young ecclesiastic now wore. 
 
 Then there was a pause of some moments. 
 
 " The Chief of the Police !" for the third time 
 said Father Faleonara, as if in a sort of dismayed 
 
 " Something is passing in your mind !" exclaimed 
 Charles; "what is it? Do you possibly possess 
 influence in that quarter ? — is there aught 
 that you can do towards saving the life of your 
 benefactor ?" 
 
 The young priest did not immediately answer 
 Charles : but he still stood musing as if under 
 some dismaying influence, or as if his thoughts 
 were touching upon a sphere wherein he dared not 
 let them range, but whence he could not altogether 
 keep them back. It was not an idiotic vacancy 
 hich his countenance expressed : there was a 
 ild and sinister intelligence in it. It was evi- 
 dent that something surpassingly strange was 
 agitating in the mind of that young priest. 
 Charles contemplated him with a species of awful 
 curiosity, mingled with the most painful suspense: 
 
 d at length he said, " For heaven's sake, if you 
 
 a do anyihin.; on behalf of the uufortunate 
 Count, let it be o^'iu' speedily!"
 
 AGNES ; OE, 
 
 AND PLEiSDEE. 
 
 "Yes !" exclaimed the priest ! " it sliall be done 
 speedily !" — and be rushed away, leaving Charles 
 standiDg in the middle of the street, tran: 
 fixed to the spot, wondering whether Falconai 
 had really any plan in hia mind, or whether he 
 ■were altogether demented. 
 
 But in a few momenta our hero beheld the 
 priest rapidly emerging again from the obscurity 
 into which he had seemed to plunge as he rushed 
 in that frantic manner along the street. He was 
 now walking at a slower pace in comparison ; but 
 etill it was a hurried one. As he accosted Charles 
 the latter saw that his face was more than usually 
 pale : indeed it was of a deadly whiteness ; and hii 
 large black eyes were shining with an unnatural 
 brilliancy. 
 
 " I'm going to the Prefecture of Police," he said, 
 in a deep hollow tone. " Those who penetrate 
 thither, are not always certain of coming forth 
 again at will. Go to the Marquis of Ortona— he 
 is a friend of the Count's — and he will befriend 
 me if you assure him that the enterprise in which 
 I am embarking has for its object the salvation of 
 the Count's life!" 
 
 " And what do you wish the Marquis to do ?" 
 inquired Charles anxiously. 
 
 " I wish you and the Marquis to proceed pre- 
 sently together into the neighbourhood of the Pre- 
 fecture, if at the expiration of one hour I do not 
 rejoin you there, you may conclude that I have 
 experienced treacherous treatment — that I am a 
 captive and destined for eternal immurement in a 
 dungeon, unless you both hasten forward to deliver 
 me. Therefore, I say, if at the expiration of one 
 hour from this oomeat I do not join the Marquis 
 and yourself in the neighbourhood of the gate of 
 the Prefecture, do you ring at that gate and de- 
 mand that Father Falconara be at once set at 
 liberty '. The Chief of the Police will not dare re- 
 fuse; and thus my safety will be assured. And in 
 assuring my safety, you will secure the life and 
 liberty of the Count of Camerino ! I trust to you, 
 Signor De Vere, to fulfil my instructions precisely 
 as I have given them." 
 
 " I will— Ob, believe me I will !" cried our hero, 
 overjoyed at the hope which had been held out in 
 reference to the unfortunate Count. 
 
 Father Falconara wrung De Vere's band with 
 the convulsive violence which emanated from the 
 strength of bis emotions; and be again hurried 
 away— while Charles began to retrace his steps to- 
 wards the Marquis of Orlona's mansion. 
 
 Meanwhile the Chief of Police, triumphant in 
 the night's work which he had accomplished, was 
 sitting down to supper in his luxuriantly furnished 
 apartment. He had no guests at his table on the 
 occasion : he ate and drank like a man bent upon 
 enjoying himself after having satisfactorily disposed 
 of a considerable amount of business. He quaffed 
 the sparkling champagne ; and ever and anon he 
 muttered to himself, " I care not for the loss of my 
 beautiful mistress, since I am so signully avenged 
 upon him who doped with her ! But I must be cau- 
 tious in the presence of this fascinating beverage," 
 he presently added, as he held his glass up to the 
 light so tis to obst-rvc the colour and clearness of 
 the wine ; " or it will do me a mischief as last year 
 it aid.' 
 
 deeply in the juices of the grape, that a serious 
 
 
 
 was thought that he could not possibly survive it. 
 Then, deeming himself to be on his death-bed, ha 
 was haunted by all the terrors arising from an 
 ill-spent life — a life that h:idbeen marked by mora 
 than one deed of turpitude only too well calculated 
 thus to trouble his conscience. But he had re- 
 covered ; and instead of taking warning from the 
 remorseful feelings which had then agitated him 
 and rendered the prospect of death terrible, he had 
 gradually glided again into his iniquitous career. 
 
 To return to the immediate thread of our 
 story. The Chief of Police, having quaffed as 
 much champagne as he fancied that he dare drink, 
 rose from the table and was about to seek his 
 couch, when the ringing of the bell at the gate of 
 the Prefecture made him linger with the idea that 
 some new call upon his attention might possibly 
 be about to transpire. A domestic presently en- 
 tered, to announce that a priest who gave the 
 name of Father Falconara, desired an interview 
 with his Excellency. 
 
 " Father Falconara 1" echoed the Minister, for 
 a moment looking surprised : but instantaneously 
 recovering himself, he added, " Let the reverend 
 gentleman be introduced." 
 
 The ecclesiastic was accordingly conducted into 
 the Minister's presence; and he gave the usual 
 benediction, which the gre^^t ofiicial received wiih 
 an air of assumed humility. 
 
 " Be sealed, holy sir," said the Chief of the 
 Police; "and tell me for what purpose I am 
 favoured with a visit from your reverence at tuis 
 
 Let me crave your attention for a short time,' 
 said Father Falconara. " I have just been attend- 
 ing the death-bed of a penitent sinner of whom 
 
 your lordship has some knowledge 1 mean the 
 
 man Birdi." 
 
 " Indeed 1" said the Chief of the Police; and 
 his countenance became fur a moment pale. " You 
 surely do not mean that the unfortunate man who 
 
 just now so seriously wounded by a prisoner 
 
 e effecting his escape " 
 
 Yes, my lord— I alluda to that man," re- 
 sponded Father Falconara. 
 
 And you were called in to give him absolu- 
 tion f" exclaimed the Minister, becoming still 
 more pale than before. " The circumstunco is 
 
 irkable 1 The coincidence extraordinary I" 
 
 Perhaps, my lord, it was providential!" said 
 the ecclesiastic impressively ; aud the Ciiief of the 
 Police evidently understood his meauing, for he 
 trembled fur a moment. 
 
 Then there was silence for nearly a minute ia 
 that room. 
 
 " And the poor fellow is dead ?" observed the 
 Minister, regaining hia self possession. "Ikne.v 
 that the injury he had sustained was very serious: 
 but slip, when he came to his senses and be- 
 sought that he might be taken home to hia wife 
 and children— and when the surgeon gave his 
 
 at to the removal — I certainly fancied there 
 
 a chance of his recovery " 
 
 Xo, my lord," interrupted the ecclesiastic : 
 
 it man is no more ! Scarcely half an-hour has 
 elapsed since Bardi breathed his last, having con- 
 fessed all his sins and received absolution !" 
 
 And thus. Father Falconara," said the I^iois.
 
 ilOI7ES; OB, BEAUTY AITD PLBASrSE. 
 
 300 
 
 ter of Police, with a sombre look, " you have re- 
 ceived a fearful corroboration of the tale whicb I 
 told Tou some eighteen months back, when I feared 
 that I mjself was stretched upon my death*bed 
 and when you came to give me the consolations of 
 religion ?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord," continued the priest : " the 
 guilty and unfortunate Bardi has within the past 
 hour given me a terrible corroboration of the his- 
 tory which I had previously learnt from your lips. 
 But let us put him out of the question: because 
 even though you can full well conjecture what he 
 said to me on his death-bed, yet must it be held 
 sacred so far as he himself is concerned; for it is 
 under the seal of implicit secrecy that the priest 
 receives a confession of the dying penitent I Par- 
 don me, my lord, if I have intruded upon you at 
 so late an hour : but those circumstances to which 
 I have alluded, brought you back into my mind— j 
 and then 1 was struck by the remissness of my 
 conduct in never having again visited you since ! 
 the day when I gave you absolution." I 
 
 *'It was barely necessary, holy sir," answered 
 the Chief of the Police ; " for on the following day 
 my illness took a sudden turn, and I was speedily 
 out of danger. Nevertheless, believe me, I am 
 always glad to receive the visits of the priesthood : j 
 for your holy Order is one of the main supports 
 of the throne " 
 
 " If I have called on the present occasion," in- ' 
 terjected Father Falconara, somewhat abruptly — 
 for he chose not to receive the credit of a loyalty j 
 which he did not deserve, — " it is to confer with j 
 your lordship seriously for a brief space. May I i 
 hope that the exhortations which I addressed unto 
 your Excellency when you deemed that you lay ! 
 upon your death-bed " 1 
 
 " ICow to speak the truth, holy father," said the J 
 Minister, " 1 am by no means sorry that you ' 
 have come ; for I may address jou upon a subject | 
 which I dare not touch upon with any other living ^ 
 person. To be candid, I sleep not well at night : 
 I am haunted by the recollection of that dreadful 
 
 " Speak to me as a friend," said Father Falco- 
 nara; "and remember that you should also speak 
 to me as if I had never before heard a single syl- 
 lable relative to the deed to which you are allud- 
 ing : for a priest must have no memory for what- 
 soever was told him when executing the holiest of 
 his functions and administering extreme unction." 
 
 "I understand you," said the Minister: "and 
 I would fain learn how it is that my conscience 
 still troubles me notwithstanding the absolution 
 which you gave me ?" 
 
 " Describe how it troubles you," said Father 
 Falconara. 
 
 " My dreams at night reproduce, with super- 
 added horror, if possible, that terrible scene " 
 
 " What scene ?" asked the priest. 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed the Minister, almost impa- 
 tiently, " that scene of murder which was perpe- 
 trated " 
 
 " Where?" demanded the ecclesiastic. 
 
 "In the ruins of S:. Kicholas: and not for 
 worlds," added the Chief of the Police, with a 
 shudder, " would I pass by those dilapidated walls 
 after night-fall!" 
 
 " Unhappy man 1" exclaimed the priest : " what 
 think you that you would see ?" 
 
 " What should I see P The gory mangled torm 
 of my unfortunate uncle — the old man whom I 
 enticed thither, and whom with the assistance of 
 one of my creatures, Bardi " 
 
 " Bardi ?" said the priest, " Have I heard 
 that name before ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes — you know it !— and wonderful is 
 the coincirlence which has placed you in a position 
 of twice hearing a confession of the same crime! 
 Why do you pretend that you had not heard the 
 name before ?" 
 
 " Put all that out of the question," said Father 
 Falconara. " What were you telling me ?— That 
 in the ruins of St. Nicholas you assassinated your 
 
 "Yes — you know it! It was to possess UU 
 fortune, which I knew that he meant to bequeath 
 to another " 
 
 " And you poured forth his biood ?" said the 
 ecclesiastic: "you assassinated him? — and you. 
 would tremble to pass near that spot after night- 
 fall ?" 
 
 "Yes: for beneath the grass which grows io 
 dark luxuriance amidst those ruins," said the 
 Minister, "the corpse was interred— the old man'a 
 corpse ! Ten years have elapsed since then — but 
 if the soil were dug up the bones would be found! 
 And Oh! in imagination that skeleton is often 
 evoked from its unhallowed grave, to stand by the 
 side of my couch— to stretch its fleshless arm over 
 and to startle me horribly from my troubled 
 sleep " 
 
 " Unhappy man !" again ejaculated the prieat. 
 "But how was the crime concealed ?" 
 
 " Who knew of it save myself and my accom- 
 plice Bardi, who, as you tell me, has so lately 
 rendered up his breath, having to your ears con- 
 fessed " 
 
 " Well, well," said the priest : " none knew of 
 it but yourself and your accomplice ? The corpse 
 was buried— the crime was concealed ! But how 
 obtained you possession of the murdered man's 
 property ?" 
 
 "A tale readily invented— that he suddenly 
 
 went to Corsica — that there he died then forged 
 
 certificates of death and burial were in time pro- 
 duced — they gave me his fortune as heir-at-law 
 
 But why do you make me recapitulate facta 
 
 which are so well known to you ? Is it to punish 
 me p Tell me, holy father— why I am thus 
 haunted by that spectre when my conscience ought 
 to be absolved of the crime ?" 
 
 " Why do I make you recapitulate these facts?" 
 exclaimed Father Falconara : and now a strange 
 alteration took place in the whole manner, look, 
 tone, and bearing of the young ecclesiastic. " It 
 was to elicit from your lips the confession that you 
 are a murderer !" 
 
 " But was not that confession made eighteen 
 months ago ?" asked the Minister, trembling, he 
 scarcely knew why. 
 
 " Y'es," said the ecclesiastic ! " but thf» it wa» a 
 confession made to me when I visited you aa •. 
 priest and the seal of secrecy was upon my lipsl 
 Now it is a confession which you have made to mo 
 as a friend— and I accuse you, my lord, of the 
 
 foul. 
 
 ^of« 
 
 Father Falconara started up from his chair aa 
 he thus spoke; and the Chief of Police, likewise 
 springing up from his own seat, exclaimed, "What
 
 AGKES; 
 
 BEArTT A.SD PtEASaSB. 
 
 301 
 
 mean you?— what am I to understand by this ask the question ! —for you would not have dared 
 strange conduct on your part ? I sought your to violate the sanctity of your priestly obligatioa 
 ghostly advice " j in such a manner !" 
 
 " Tou are not in the confessional— neither are i " No— I am incapable of it I" answered the 
 Tou stretched upon a bed which may become the ecclesiastic : " but I have appointed the Marquis 
 couch of death !" exclaimed the ecclesiastic. " It is ' and that young Englisbman to watch over my 
 man apeaking to man— not penitent to priest ! Tour life and liberty this night ! I intend to offer you 
 confession is open, and no seal of secrecy is upon ! terms : I can propose a means by which the tale 
 my lips ! My lord, I accuse you of the foul crime | of your foul crime may remain a secret until 
 of murder! There are evidences of the deed— tbe : the end, — buried as deeply in my heart as the 
 skeleton beneath the ruins — tbe forged certifi- skeleton is buried deep beneath the ruins of St. 
 cates! Yes -there are all the proofs !— and I now Nicholas !" 
 
 hold you answerable to the criminal law of this " And what terms are those which your reTO- 
 country !" rence proposes?" asked the Minister. 
 
 Tbe most astute persons in the world may some- "Life for life!" replied Faloonara. " If by 
 times be caught off thiir guard — the most cunning keeping your dreadful secret I save you from tbe 
 and wily may occasionally commit themselves — scaffold, which is the murderer's 
 
 and those who are ordinarily most famous for 
 having their wits constantly about them, may on 
 some occasion or another lose their shrewd fore- 
 seeing qualities. Thus was it with the Minister 
 of Police on the present occasion. He had made a 
 tremendous mistake— he had been guilty of a fear- 
 ful error : but how could he possibly suppose that 
 the pious, sedate, retiring young priest had with a 
 rare ingenuity been spreading a net to ensnare 
 him ? Startled into the consciousness of the awful 
 position in which he had placed himself, the Chief 
 of the Police now gazed on Father Falconara with 
 a look of mingled horror and consternation ; and 
 the young priest, seizing him by the collar of his 
 coat, exclaimed, "I arrest your lordship in the 
 name of the law ! 1 denounce you as a mur- 
 derer !" 
 
 "This is madness!" suddenly ejaculated the 
 Prefect, as with a violent effort he released himself 
 from the grasp which the young ecclesiastic had 
 fixed upon him. " Keep off !— down upon your 
 knees — listen to the terms I myself am about to 
 dictate: or else " 
 
 Tbe Minister did not 6oish the sentence : but 
 tuddenly producing a pistol from a bureau which 
 was near at hand, he presented it towards Fal- 
 conara's head. 
 
 " Beware of what you are doing, miserable man," 
 cried the priest, shrinking not from the weapon 
 which was thus levelled at him. "I may be in 
 your power — you may kill me, but I shall not die 
 unrevenged ! You may thrust me into a dungeon 
 — but it would not be long ere an account would 
 be demanded of me at your hands ! Think you 
 that having undertaken such a task as that which 
 has brought me hither, and knowing how desperate 
 
 your character is, I adopted no precaution Ah ! 
 
 hear you that ring at the gate ? Eest assured 
 that tbe Marquis of Ortona and Signor De Vere, 
 one of tbe attaches to the English Embassy, have 
 come to tbe Prefecture to inquire for Father Fal- 
 
 " Am I to uTiderstand," said the Minister of 
 Police, slowly suffering the muzzle of the pistol to 
 sink towards the ground, while an expression of 
 ghastliness again came over his countenance, aa if 
 he felt that the toils of the net in which he was 
 ensnared were closing in more and more upon him, 
 — "Am I to understand that you have revealed to 
 the Marquis of Ortona and to that young EoglisU- 
 man the fearful narrative which under the seal of 
 secrecy was confided to your ears ? But no!" eja- 
 culated the Chief of the Police; "I am a fuol to 
 
 side, must surrender up unto me some one 
 Q in your heart you have already doomed to 
 the scaffold !" 
 
 Ah !" ejaculated the Chief; " to whom do you 
 allude ? Perhaps to one of those who this 
 
 ght " 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Falconara : " I allude to tho 
 Count of Camerioo. He is my benefactor — the 
 ly friend whom I possess on earth : to him am I 
 iebted for everything ! I have resolved to save 
 him, even though by the adoption of a course 
 hich, believe me, has done no mean violence 
 to my feelings, though I have outraged no law 
 "ther moral or religious. Now, my lord, you un- 
 derstand me ! Let the door of the dungeon open 
 for the Count of Camerino ; and I swear by the 
 most sacred, solemn, and binding of oaths that 
 never again from my lips shall go forth a syllable 
 in reference to the hideous topic of your great guilt!" 
 " But you are asking something," said the Pre- 
 fect, who was still much agitated, — " you are ask- 
 ing something which it is next to impossible for 
 
 " Hark, my lord ! again the ringing at the gate 
 of the Prefecture !" exclaimed Father Falconara. 
 " My friends are demanding me !" 
 
 "Are you sure?" asked the Piefect- and he 
 looked earnestly on the priest's countenance ; for 
 the unscrupulous villain thought to himself that if 
 it were not really as Falconara represented, he 
 would hurry him off to a dungeon whence ho 
 would take care that he should never come forth 
 
 " I understand what is passing in your 
 thoughts," said the priest : " but heaven be 
 thanked, I am not in your power ! A third time 
 they ring!" 
 
 A domestic entered, saying, as he addressed the 
 Prefect, " May it please your Excellency, two 
 gentlemen are at the gate, who insist upon seeing 
 Father Falcjnara. Vainly have I assured theax 
 that his reverence is engaged with your lordship— 
 they persist " 
 
 " Tell them," interrupted the Prefect, " that 
 Father Falconara shall join them in a ter 
 minutes." 
 
 The domestic retired ; and the young priest saia 
 firmly and decisively, " Now, my lord, what is 
 jour decision ?— for there can be no more tarry- 
 ing. It is useless to argue and reason : my mind 
 is made up. 1 came hither for a special purpose— 
 and if you were to offer me the wealth of the 
 Indies, or all tbe worldly advantages that could
 
 A0KE3; OR, BEATITT ASD PLBASUBE. 
 
 poasibly be Leaped together as a bribe, I could not 
 
 be deterred from my course. In a word, therefore, 
 
 I demand the life oud liberty of the Count of 
 
 Camerino — or I denounce the Chief of the Police 
 
 as the assassin of his own uncle !" 
 
 I The iliuister reflected for upwards of a minute. 
 
 I TThat Could he do ? Ho dared not murder the 
 
 I youug ecclesiastic : he dared not send him off to a 
 
 I fortress ; for it was not eo easy to deal with the 
 
 I priesthood as it was with laymen and civilians. 
 
 I Should he boldly refuse Falconnra's demand, and 
 
 I trust to his good fortune to extricate him from the 
 
 I menacing consequences that might ensue ? But 
 
 1 the ilinister knew how fearfully unpopular be 
 
 was, and that at the very first whisper of his 
 
 having committed a deed of assassination on the 
 
 person of his own uncle, the whole populace would 
 
 ! rise and demand justice against him. The Chief 
 
 j therefore found himself compelled to^bmitto the 
 
 I condition which Father Falconara imposed upon 
 
 I him. 
 
 j " I know that the Marquis of Ortona," he said, 
 I "has long been an intimate friend of the Count of 
 
 1 know like\^ 
 
 tha 
 
 ; htive rendered the young Englishman De Vere 
 . acquainted with his lordship, and perhaps interested 
 I in his behalf. I therefore presuo-e that even though 
 1 they mey be ignorant of the means of coercion 
 I which you are exercising over me, they are never- 
 I theless aware of the object of your visit ?" 
 I "They know that I have come on behalf of the 
 I Count of Camerino," replied Father Falconara 
 I "Conduct the business as you think fit— make a 
 I merit of necessity — give it the aspect of a virtue 
 . —do what you will— I care not, so long as my ob- 
 I ject is gained and my benefactor is restored to 
 
 freedom !" 
 I " Ah I you give me this license ?" exclaimed the 
 I Chief of the Police. " It is well : I will avail 
 myself of it. But do you keep your countenance, 
 I and neither by look nor word contradict me in what 
 I I shall say." 
 
 The Minister then rang the bell ; and when the 
 I domestic answered the summons, he said, "Re- 
 quest the two gentlemen who are waiting below, to 
 come hither." 
 
 In a few moments the Marquis of Ortona and 
 Charles De Vere were introduced to the apartment, 
 where they found the Prefect and Father Falco- 
 nara. The former was now all urbanity and polite- 
 ness— while the latter wore an expression of joy- 
 ous hopefulness on his countenance ; so that the 
 nobleman and our young hero felt their own hearts 
 relieved of much of the load which had hitherto 
 been sitting heavily upon them. 
 
 " The influence of this holy man," said the Mi- 
 nister of Police, indicating the ecclesiastic, "has 
 prevailed with me j and I cannot refuse the boon 
 which on his knees he has demanded : for Oh ! it is 
 not a light thing which can bring down a minister 
 of the Gospel to a suppliant posture in the pre- 
 sence of a minister of the law. But you have 
 knelt to me. Father Falconara — have you not ?" 
 
 " I scarcely know what moans of entreaty and 
 intercession I have odopte'd," replied the young 
 priest; "but this I do know— and for this shall I 
 be grateful unio the end of my life — that your 
 Excellency has granted the boon, and the Count of 
 Camerino is about to be restored to perfect free- 
 dom!" 
 
 Ejaculations of joy burst forth from the lips of 
 the Marquis of Ortona and Charles Do Vere as 
 they received this announcement. They seized the 
 hands of the young priest and pressed them 
 warmly : they then made acknowledgment of tha 
 generosity of the Minister — for in such a light did 
 they regard his conduct. 
 
 The reader may have already seen that the Nea- 
 politan Chief of Police was endowed with a consi- 
 derable amount of discretionary power in the ex- 
 ercise of the functions of his high office. Indeed, 
 with a word could he bind or loosen; and in most 
 respects ho was completely irresponsible for his 
 proceedings- though as a mattir of course he bad 
 not the power to decree the fulness of pardon; 
 for that was a prerogative belonging to the Sove- 
 reign alone. Sucli authority however as the Pre- 
 fect could and might exercise, ho was now about to 
 demonstrate, according to the demand of Father 
 Falconara. Again ringing the bell, the Minister 
 said to the domestic who answered the summons, 
 " Let the Count of Camerino be at once brought 
 
 There was now a deep silence of some minutea 
 in the apartment where this scene was taking 
 place; and as the Chief of the Police pursued his 
 reflections, he was struck by the fact that not s 
 single syllable had been spoken on behalf of the 
 Viscount Silvio— not the faintest eilort had been 
 made to save that young nobleman. And the Mi- 
 nister comprehended why the name of that un- 
 principled villain was thus consigned to utter 
 silence, if not to oblivion ! 
 
 In a few minutes the door of the apartment 
 opened; and the Count of Camerino was ushered 
 in by a couple of police-agents. The Minister 
 made a sign, and those agents at once withdrew. 
 The nobleiJian glanced round in astonishment upon 
 those friendly faces which met his eyes, — Father 
 Falconara'e, the Marquis of Ortona's, Charles De 
 Vere's : then he looked at the Prefect, and he was 
 struck by the air of bland alTability which that 
 official deemed it expedient to assume. 
 
 " My friend ! my benefactor !" exclaimed the 
 young priest, hastening forward and throwing his 
 arms around the Count's neck: "you are free! 
 
 " Is this so ?" — and for a few instants the no- 
 bleman was almost completely overwhelmed by his 
 emotions. 
 
 He embraced his three friends one after an- 
 other; and the Marquis of Ortona said to him, 
 "It was Falconara who did it all!— it was he who 
 successfully interceded with his Excellency tha 
 Minister!" 
 
 " It was impossible," said the Chief of the Police, 
 now stepping forward to speak on his own account, 
 —"it was impossible to offer any resistance against 
 the prayers and intercessions of this worthy young 
 minister of the Gospel, who loves your lordship as 
 if he were your own son ! Go, my lord— you are 
 free ! If you remain at Naples, let it be in some 
 sanctuary to which the police dare not penetrate; 
 and I beseech you to lose no time in taking mea- 
 sures to obtain the royal pardon. When reference 
 is made to me on that point, I will give such on 
 answer as shall induce the Minister of the Interior 
 to recommend your lordship's cause to the favour- 
 able notice of tho King." 
 
 "The British Embassy is a sanctuary," said
 
 AQXES; OR, BBAUTT AND PLEASURE. 
 
 303 
 
 Charles J)e Vere, " into which no police-agents dare 
 
 penetrate " 
 
 "And my dwelling," interjected Father Falco- 
 n«r«, " within the preciucts of an ecclesiastical 
 establishment, ro&y likewise become a sanctuary if 
 the Prefect will and ordain that it be so re- 
 
 spected. 
 
 " I pledge my word to that effect," said the ili- 
 
 " And I," said the Count of Camerino, " am 
 now so crushed by tbo weight of calamity — I feel 
 my spirit to be so ompletely broken— my energies 
 to be so thoroughly undermined, that actiTity of 
 life is henceforth for mo impossible. I cannot sue 
 at the Kiog's feet for pardon: but on the other 
 band, 1 swear that henceforth I need not be looked 
 upon as dangerous 1 In the sphere of politics I am 
 dead: my heart is blighted within me! All that 
 I now desire is permission to leave Naples for ever, 
 ond to retire to my Tuscan estates,— there to bury 
 myself in the deep seclusion which can now be the 
 only refuge fur my bruised and wounded spirit." 
 
 " Leave Naples when you will, my lord," replied 
 the Chief of the Police : " my pledge has gone 
 forth " 
 
 I " But Ah !" said the Count, a dark shade sud- 
 
 i denly coming over his features, and then giving 
 place to the ghastliest expression which the imagi- 
 nation can well conceive : "what of him— that un- 
 happy boy " 
 
 " He is a parricide," interjected the Minisler, 
 emphatically : " or at leas', he is in purpose and 
 intention, though not in fact 1" 
 
 "My dear benefactor," whispered the young 
 priest to the Count, '■ 1 did not intercede for Sil- 
 vio : I dared not demand two lives ! And even it 
 I had thought that I possessed influence sufHeieDt, 
 
 I I would not have exerted it on your son's behalf. 
 Ko— I would not!" 
 
 ] "His name ought not to be spoken," said the 
 Marquis of Ortona solemnly. 
 
 I " Yet one word more !" said the Count of Came, 
 rino, turning towards the Prefect : and then with 
 a great effort he asked, " Is my son Silvio to 
 die ?" 
 
 "He is to die," responded the Chief of the 
 
 Police. " In a few days " 
 
 " Ah ! in a few days ?" said the Count, again 
 with a ghastly expression sweeping over his fea- 
 tures. " I must remain in Naples for those few 
 days! I must see him at the last moment ! Yes 
 
 —I must £ 
 
 him ! 
 
 "Impossible !" exclaimed the Minister of Police. 
 "If you obtain not the Xing's pardon you must 
 not tarry in Naples : or if you do tarry in this 
 city, it must be either at the British Embassy or 
 vitbin the sacred precincts of some ecclesiastic 
 establishment. But bow, in this case, can jou see 
 jour son ? I charge you, my lord, not to come 
 hither again !" 
 
 "leave it all to me," whispered Father Fal- 
 conara, in the ear of the Count of Camerino : " I 
 will devise a means to gratify the desire which in 
 the magnanimous spirit of paternal forgiveness 
 jou have formed !" 
 
 The Count of Cjmerino now departed from the 
 Prefecture, in company with the Marquis of Or- 
 tona, Charles Dd Vere, and Father Falconara ; and 
 it waa at the residence of the young ecclesiastic 
 (hat he sought a temporary asylum. 
 
 Three days afterwards the remains of the Coun- 
 tess of Camerino were consigned to the tnmb. The 
 funeral waa conducted witli the utmmt privacy, 
 and at a late hour in the evening : but when the 
 bier was in the church, the Count of Camerino 
 knelt by the side, and repeated the forgiveness 
 which bo had before proclaimed in respect to the 
 guilty and perished Ginevra ! 
 
 A week afterwards there was a hasty trial of 
 several political offenders ; and amongst them was 
 the Viscount Silvio di Cumerino. Sovere sentences 
 were pronounced— for the rei^jn of terror was then 
 at its height in Naples, and from tlie tribunal to 
 the scaffold the interval was short. Silvio was 
 condemned to death ! 
 
 Then a few more days elapsed ; and at the ex- 
 piration of this period the streets were one morning 
 crowded all along a particular direction, for several 
 victims of political vengeance were being conducted 
 to the place of execution. A wretched procession 
 of three heavy jolting carts, drawn by the S'trriest 
 horses, was now wending its way through the 
 streets, amidst that crowd of spectators. The first 
 cart contained three victims— the second two — and 
 the third only one. This solitary individual who 
 enjoyed the aristocratic luxury of being left alone, 
 as it were, in his misery, was the Viscount Silvio 
 di Camerino. His face was of marble paleness, as 
 if indeed he were already a corpse ; but his eye* 
 shone with the strong glaring light of mingled 
 horror and despair. 
 
 The wretched procession continued its way, — 
 preceded, attended, and followed by shirri, while 
 the multitudes maintained a profound silence. 
 Presently the carts began to pass that particular 
 church which has so often been alluded to in the 
 course of this Neapolitan episode ; and forth from 
 the sacred edifice came three priests, whose duty it 
 was to accompany the doomed men from that spot 
 to the place of execution. The first priest ascended 
 into the first cart— the second priest entered the 
 next : but the third priest, standing by the side of 
 the third cart, breathed a few words ia the ear of 
 the Viscount Silvio di Camerino. 
 
 Those words produced an instantaneous and 
 powerful effect : the wretched young nobleman's 
 countenance denoted the violent agitation which i 
 was excited within his breast ; and he exclaimed, 
 " I demand permission to be alone with this holy j 
 priest ! I have something to confess !" \ 
 
 " That permission is accorded," said the officer • 
 commanding the escort of shirri. 
 
 The procession was accordingly stopped. Silvio | 
 di Camerino descended from the cart ; and in the ^ 
 custody of two of the police officials, he was con- [ 
 ducted into the church, the crowd forming a Ifkne I 
 from the cart itself up to the portal of that holy 
 temple, and the priest leading the way. Nee* we | 
 inform the reader that this priest was Father Fal- 
 
 Oo entering the church, the young priest said to ' 
 
 the shirri, " llemain here at the door ; and suffer I 
 
 your prisoner tj accompany me as far as the cja- \ 
 
 fessional. I pledge myself for his security." i 
 
 The two shirri at once acquiesced in this de- i 
 
 mand; and Silvio — quivering from head to foot— ' 
 
 full of nervous ogilation — accompanied Fdlconara ! 
 towards the conlessional. And now from behind a 
 
 pillar, a tall form, enveloped in a cloak, slowly i 
 
 merged. Silvio's first impulse was to bound tor- |
 
 so* 
 
 LGXB3 ; 
 
 3; ACir ASD PLBiSCEE. 
 
 'bicb be bad been tuld 
 m ; but be vas sud- 
 ise of all hi« etupen- 
 
 ward and Hr into tbe a 
 
 would be open to rece 
 
 denlj ovcrvrbelmed by 
 
 dous criminality towards bis father — and be 
 
 down upon bis knees, moaning and lamenting 
 
 bitterly. 
 
 "Silvio," said the Count of Camerino, advancing 
 towards tbe n retched youth, and speaking in a 
 tone where anguish and awe-felt solemnity were 
 strangely blended, " I promised that when death 
 should be at band either for one or for both of us, 
 I would proclaim my forgivencsa— and not till 
 then ! Alas, alas ! that moment is come ! My 
 God ! it is now present ! Oh, fetrful— horrible 
 moment! I forgive thee, Silvio! — I forgive thee, 
 my unhappy son ) — yes, from the very bottom of 
 my soul do I forgive thee !" 
 
 The unhappy father now threw himself upon 
 the breast of tbe perhaps still more unhappy son ; 
 and a most affecting scene ensued. Again and 
 again did Silvio beseech his sire's forgiveness ! — 
 
 i' again and again did tbe parent reiterate tbe as* 
 surance of fullest pardon ! Father Falconara was 
 I BO overcome by bis emotions on beholding this 
 spectacle, that he was compelled to lean against 
 a pillar for support; and when he strove to pray, 
 I broken sentences only emanated from his lips. At 
 . length the Count of Camerino exclaimed, in accents 
 . which denoted the most excruciating mental an- 
 i guish, " This scene can endure no longer ! Fare- 
 ; well, my son ! If thou art indeed penitent, we 
 j may meet again in heaven !" 
 
 Silvio threw himself upon bis father's breast, 
 I aobbing, lamenting, and weeping bitterly. The 
 j young ecclesiastic, now regaining somewhat of bis 
 I uwn self-possession, exhorted them both to arm 
 I themselves with Christian fortitude ; and after one 
 : last, fervid, agonizing embrace, they parted. 
 I Silvio, attended by Father Falconara, returned 
 I to the door of the church, where the two »lirri 
 j were waiting; and back to the cart he was con- 
 j ducted,— the crowd wondering what it was that be 
 ] could have bad to confess. And now it was with 
 > comparative resignation that Silvio went to the 
 1 fatal spot; and while his life was being surren- 
 I dered up, his unhappy father remained kneeling 
 I upon the steps of the altar in the church where 
 I the words of pardon had been spokea and where 
 tlie last farewells bad been said ! 
 
 CHAPIEU LI. 
 
 LUCSEZIA ASD CIFBISA. 
 
 . Wb have given some little description of the Mar- 
 I cbioness di Uirano's palatial mansion in the city 
 of Florence ; and we mny now inform the reader 
 that her ladyship's villa, beautifully situated in the 
 Vale of Atoo, and at a distance of about half-a- 
 dozen miles from the Tuscan capital itself, was as 
 beautifully appointed as the town-dwelling. The 
 furniture was less massive and sumptuous — it was 
 lighter and more elegant : all the arrangements 
 were on a smaller scale— and the villa seemed to 
 be a retreat whence the more stately formality and 
 ceremony which appeared proper and suitable for 
 j the town-mansion, might be banished. And might 
 I not that villa serve as tbe bower of love ? Was it 
 
 ! 
 
 not a retreat admirably adapted for an affair of 
 gallantry ? Even though it was now wintsr, 
 yet were the walks in the garden bordered by ever- 
 greens — the choicest iiowere were in the conser- 
 vatories — the most delicious fruits were in the 
 hot'bouses. There were pavilions and arbours 
 warmed by artificial means ; and the rooms in the 
 interior of the dwelling were so cheerful in their 
 aspect, so luxurious in their comforts, and so 
 beautifully decorated with exotic flowers— the at- 
 mosphere likewise was so warm, and such a deli- 
 cious perfume pervaded it — that the Mirano Villa 
 seemed in all respects to constitute a little temple 
 where beauty might hold sweetest companionship 
 with pleasure, and where tbe soul might steep 
 itself in the delights of an earthly paradise. 
 
 The Marchioness Lucrezia di Mirano was in 
 every sense voluptuousness itself- but not that 
 voluptuousness which is indeed naught but gross 
 sensuality : it was a refined, a polished, and an 
 elegant voluptuousness, elevating the sense so 
 nearly to tbe sentiment that like rainbow-tints 
 they might be said to blend imperceptibly. The 
 reader has seen that Lucrezia confessed herself to 
 have no pretension to virtue, while she bad like- 
 wise declared that she had never known what love 
 was. Still she bestowed not her favours thought- 
 lessly or indiscriminately : on the contrary, it was 
 only where her tastes and fancy were entirely 
 pleased that she would give way to the impulse. 
 But if an overture were made to her by any one 
 without some previous little sign of encourage- 
 ment from herself, Lucrezia would repel the auda. 
 city with as much scorn and indignation as if it 
 tbe most immaculate virtue which bad thus 
 received an insult. She was fond of the pleasures 
 of the table — but never ate nor drank to excess. 
 It pleased her taste to behold a variety of the most 
 exquisite dishes upon the board as well as an 
 tmeot of the rarest and costliest wines; and 
 ivould even lioger long over tbe festal scene 
 she might extend tbe pleasure of beholding 
 all that wealth and taste had there heaped to- 
 gether. But in this, as in all her other enjoy. 
 ;8, Lucrezia combioed sentiment with the 
 sense ; and it was impossible to accuse her of 
 unredeemed sensuality. She bad the passion of a 
 Messalina without bor depravity — the beauty of a 
 Lucrezia Borgia without having a conscience 
 stained by a Borgia's crimes ! 
 
 Such was the Marchioness of Mirano, between 
 whom and the beautiful Ciprina circumstances 
 bad established an intimacy and friendship. Two 
 or three weeks passed ; and during this interval 
 Ciprina read in the newspapers an account of the 
 condemnation and death of Silvio di Camerino. 
 For a few minutes she was shocked : she wished 
 he had succeeded in making his escape on the 
 memorable night when her own safety was as- 
 sured ; but she consoled herself for his loss by the 
 recollection that there were still plenty of band- 
 some young men in the world, and no small num- 
 ber indeed in the Tuscan capital. 
 
 Ciprina was now 
 
 of refined and 
 
 'oluptuous ecjoyment,— precisely such an exist- 
 ence as was best suited to ber temperament and 
 disposition. AVhen she awoke in the morning, it 
 was to gaze around a chamber most exquisitely 
 furnished, and to be attended upon by two or 
 three handmaidens of a beauty so interesting
 
 10 excite the admiration of even their own sex. 
 From her couch Ciprioa was conducted to a bath- 
 room, where the atmosphere was deliciously per 
 fumed, and the water of the bath itself had the 
 fragrance of eau-de-cologne or otto of roses. 
 Then, on issuing from the bath, Ciprioa's luxuriant 
 raven hair was gently and softly combed out bj 
 the handmaidens ; and if it suited the young lady's 
 mood to have music, she had but to speak the word 
 and the wish was complied with. Her toilet was 
 performed with the least possible amount of exer- 
 tion to herself; and as her time was entirely her 
 own, she might linger over it with a species of 
 delicious languor or pleasurable indolence. Then, 
 on joining the Marchioness in the breakfast par- 
 lour, Ciprioa was sure to find her noble frieud pro- 
 vided with sume amusing topic of discourse ; while 
 the repast itself was such as to tempt the most 
 fastidious appetite, or create one where it natu- 
 >ally existed not. Then the forenoon wai spent! 
 Ko. 39.— Aqbeb. 
 
 in lounging orer portfolios of prints— in the 
 music-room — or in the picture gallery— or perhaps 
 by a visit to the conservatories : but never did 
 Ciprica put her hand to needlework,— no, not even 
 to such light embroidery as the most fashionable 
 idleness or aristocratic indolence might choose as 
 the means of whiling away an hour or two. In 
 the afternoon visitors were received— for the Mar- 
 chioness was acquainted with all the elite of Floren- 
 tine society ; or else, if the ladies did not choose 
 to remain indoors, the carriage was ordered and 
 they repaired to the public exhibitions, to day- 
 concerts, or to conversaziones, or to any others of 
 the numerous fashionable amusements with which 
 the Tuscan capital abounds. In the evening the 
 Marchioness generally invited a few friends to 
 dinner ; and three or four times a week her 
 faloons were thrown open at nine o'clock for the 
 reception of those who bad the tntrie at bar
 
 30G 
 
 S-Z3; 
 
 We lia^'fl llius hastily sketched an outline of 
 the mode of life now led by the beautifo! Ciprina 
 AVe ore now ubout to direct the attention of the 
 reader (o a particular evening when there was a 
 more than usually large adsemblage of guests at 
 Iijcrezia Mlrano's tovtn-maosion. A month had 
 elapsed sinc» Ciprina had been an inmate <jf that 
 palatial residence: and it was now therefore verg- 
 in; towards the close of January, in the year 
 1S19. The weather was cold without— hut the 
 atmosphere was warm within those splendidly fur- 
 nished apartments. The magnificent chandeliers 
 poured a flood of lustre throughout the saloons < 
 the brilliancy of that light was enhanced by its re- 
 Hi'clion in the vast mirrors; and the elegantly 
 apparelled guests moved through that blaze of 
 lustre like gorgeous insects in the glorious glare 
 of the sun-light. On this particular evening the 
 Marchioness and Ciprina were tor the first time 
 introduced to a young French gentleman bearing 
 the name of Edgar Marcelliu. Ha bad recently 
 arrived at Florence : he was reputed to be rich ; 
 and he had brought with him letters of introduc- 
 tion which procured hira immediate admission 
 into the best c teles of Floreniine society. He 
 had borne the title of Count previous to the Eevo- 
 lution of ISIS : but by that grand political con- 
 vulsion in his native country all aristocratic dis- 
 tinctions were destroyed, — and at the time of 
 which we are writing they had not been restored 
 under the regime of the usurper Louis Xnpuleon. 
 Thus Count de Marcellin was now plain M. Mar- 
 ctUin : but he was not the less cordially wel- 
 comed in fashionable society at Florence. He 
 was one of those elfgant Parisians who might 
 be put forward as a living argument to support 
 the assertion that the French are the politest 
 and most refined people on the face of the earth. 
 His manners were perfect in their pulisued ele- 
 gance—but yet without fastidiousness ir cox- 
 coabry : on the contrary, there was a manly ease 
 in his bearing which placed liim on good terms 
 with any strangers to whom he might choose 
 to make himself agreeable. He was well edu- 
 cated and intelligent ; and with the most per- 
 fect tact he could vary his conversation over the 
 whole range of fashionable frivolities, and thence 
 throughout the sphere of poetry, the drama, lite- 
 just as he saw would at the time prove suitable to 
 the tastes and intellects of his auditors. All these 
 advantages of manners and mind were accompanied 
 by an equal amount of personal ones. It would 
 be difficult to conceive a more perfect specimen of 
 masculine beauty than this French gentleman. He 
 was between twenty-four and twenty-five years of I 
 age - of the middle height, and with a figure fault- i 
 lessly symmetrical. He bad regular Grecian fea- I 
 turos- black hair, curling naturally- a beard that 
 '.n the punctilious nicety of its trimming formed a | 
 inishing frame to set off the oval of his couote- , 
 nance— and a glossy moustache giving effect to the ! 
 brilliancy of his teeth. Ha dressed with a simpli- I 
 city that was in itself the very perfection of gen- ■ 
 lility: he wore but very little jewellery — yet the 
 single diamond which sent forth its vivid jets of 
 light from the ring upon his finger, was more 
 costly than all the accumulated masses of trinkets 
 with which many another young " fashionable " 
 had bedizened his person. But everything about 
 
 T ASD PLEASCEB. 
 
 Edgar Marcellin bespoke a refined taste, a gentle- 
 manly feeling, and the tact of the man of the 
 world. 
 
 >'o sooner had Elgar Marcellin arri ed in Flo- 
 rence, than all the aristocratic saloons rang with 
 praises of the brilliant Frenchman; so that there 
 was a species of scramble, if we may use the term, 
 as to who should be fortunate enough in tirst ob- 
 taining bis presence as a guest at their entertain- 
 ments. The Marchioness di Mirano bad expressed 
 to a gentleman-friend her desire that M. Marcellin 
 should be introduced to her : the gentleman-friend 
 accomplished the task ; and henbc the appearance 
 of the polished Frenchman at the Mirano mansioa 
 on the evening of which we are speaking. It waa 
 i conversazione : t\ieTe v&s but little dancing:— 
 music, discourse, the inspection of new prints and 
 pictures, and such-like recreations were whiling 
 away the time until the supper room should ba 
 thrown open. At the moment when M. Marcellin 
 was announced, Ciprina was seated on a low otto- 
 man, in the midst of a group who were examining' 
 a small picture by some celebrated master, and 
 which a connoisseur boring that day picked up at a 
 great price, had broaght to display in pursuance of 
 a custom common enough at conversaziones in 
 Italian society. Ciprina was elegantly dressed ; 
 and she looked most ravishingly beautiful. She 
 affected to be perfectly indifferent to the arrival of 
 the brilliant Frenchman who was being made the 
 " lion " of society in the Tuscan capital ; and ahe 
 pretended to keep her eyes riveted on the connois- 
 seur's picture, while all others present were noir 
 glancing towards him wliose name had just been 
 proclaimed from the lips of the lacquey at the 
 gilded portals of the saloon. But Ciprina did 
 nevertheless flmg one furtive look in that direc- 
 tion ; and then turning towards a lady who was 
 near, she said, as if thinking only of the picture, 
 " Well, I do not pretend to be a judge— but I cer- 
 tainly think it is well worth the price whicii the 
 present owner has paid for it." 
 
 " My dear Signora," whispered the lady, in as- 
 tonishment; " is it possible that you can bo think- 
 ing of this comparatively trumpery picture, when 
 the brilliant. Edgar Marcellin has just been an- 
 nounced ?" 
 
 " Oh, indeed !" said Ciprina, as it with a lan- 
 guid air of the most perfect indifference : and then 
 she went on making some additional remarks in 
 reference to the picture. 
 
 Meanwhile Edgar Marcellin, having been wel- 
 comed by the Marchioness di Mirano, was now 
 slowly making his way through the apartment, by 
 her ladyship's side; and while bowing to those 
 persons with whom he was already acquainted, he 
 threw out a variety of complimentary remarks, 
 couched in the most delicate terms, in reference to 
 the splendour of her ladyship's rooms, the taste 
 which had prevailed over their appointments, and 
 the distinguished company which she bad collected 
 on the occasion. Marcellin's quick eye showed 
 him (though he affected to perceive it not) that 
 his appearance had produced an immense sensa- 
 tion, and that he was the observed of all observers. 
 Ifo— not quite ! There was oiw exception. That 
 lady, seated upon the ottoman, and who eppeared 
 to be intent on the survey of a picture which 
 rested against the back of a chair ! — who could she 
 be, that she was thus utterly imiiffereot to the
 
 AGSES; OB, EEACIT A>D PLEAStJBK. 
 
 31)7 
 
 p.-eeence of toe brilliant Frenchman ? It was 
 some such question whic'a Marcellin actually 
 asked of himself; and then he was struck bj the 
 flowing outlines and softly rounded symmetry of 
 the figure upon that ottoman. "VVho was she ? 
 His eyes were turned inquiiingly upon the Mar- 
 chioness, who, smiling, said, " Ob, I am about to 
 present you to that young lady. She ie a very 
 dear friend of mine— she lives with me ilto- 
 gethcr." 
 
 " I shall indeed be proud to form the acqiaint- 
 
 And Marcellin stopped short, as if pausing 
 for the name to be mentioned. 
 
 " The Signora Ciprina," said the ilarchioi ess. 
 " Surely that must be the name of Venus her- 
 self, in your Italian tongue ?" — and Edgar Mar- 
 cellin again turned his eyes, as he spoke, upon 
 j the beautiful shape seuted on the ottoman. 
 } "Ciprina," said the Marchioness, "allow me to 
 I introduce you to M. Marcellin. I must leave 
 I you to form each other's acquaintance ; for the 
 I arrival of other distinguished guests claims my 
 I attention elsewhere." 
 
 Though a thorough man of the world, and 
 
 I therefore perfectly master of himself upon nearly 
 all occasions, yet the young Frenchman could not 
 ' help starting fur an instant with surprise as the 
 exceedingly handsome countenance of Ciprina was 
 1 raised up towards his own, when the introduction 
 took place. Edgar bowed with a respect more 
 profound than in the natural ease of his manner 
 he was wont to display; while Ciprina incliued 
 , her head, not exactly with coldness, but with a 
 k kind of gracious condescension, as if she were per- 
 j feclly indifftrent to the fact that this was the 
 I brilliant Frenchman, and as if she were merely 
 ' treating him with the ordinary ladylike courtesy 
 that she would have shown towards any other in- 
 dividual. Edgar was piqued: but he was too much 
 a man of the world to show it. He a: once glided 
 into Conversation with Ciprina: but he managed 
 to infuse, so to speak, a certain glacial reserve into 
 the politeness of his mien and tone. It was as 
 much as to give her to understand that if she 
 looked upon him as an ordinary individual, he on 
 his own side regarded her as being in no way su- 
 Xerior to the other ladies present. Having con- 
 versed with her for some few minutes, Marcellin 
 bowed slightly, and strolled away with an easy air 
 towards another part of the room. The Marchioness 
 EOun accosted him, and said, "What think you of 
 I my young friend Ciprina ? Is she not very hand- 
 some ?" 
 
 " Handsome ?" said Marcellin, as if vaguely and 
 dubiously. "Well, I really did not notice," he 
 added, with an air of ingenuousness so perfect that 
 the Marchioness was deceived by it. 
 
 "What!" she cried, looking astonished; "you 
 failed to observe that Ciprina is exceedingly beau 
 tiful ? And yet, M. Marcellin, I have been assured 
 that you are a person of exquisite taste !" 
 
 " Ah !" said Ed^-ar, for a moment throwing a 
 certain degree of significance into his looks : " re- 
 member that I had seen your ladyship before I 
 saw the Sigoora Ciprina, and my mind being filled 
 with the one image, afforded no room for any 
 special impression to be made by the other." 
 
 The Marchioness smiled at the compliment, and 
 mcTed away. She presently sought an oppor- 
 
 tunity of speaking to Ciprina, to whom she said, 
 " What think you, my dear friend, of Edgar Mar- 
 cellin ?" 
 
 "He is very well for a Frenchman," replied the 
 young laly, with a seemingly listless air. 
 
 " Very well for a Frenchman ?" ejaculated Lu- 
 crezia di Mirano. " Why, do you not know that 
 the French are the most polished and refined na- 
 tion on the face of the e^rth?" 
 
 "Ah, true! I forgot it," rejoined Ciprina, 
 " when conversing with M. Marcellin ;"-aod it 
 was with an air of the utmost indilTerence that she 
 thus spoke. 
 
 The Marchioness was more and more astonished 
 as she thought to herself that the two handsomest 
 persons in the room appeared to be thus completely 
 apathetic and callous ia reference to each other. 
 
 "It was my intention and object," thought Lu- 
 crezia within herself, " to allow Ciprina the oppor- 
 tunity of making a conquest in this quarter. But 
 as she is so indifferent, methinks that I my- 
 self " 
 
 And with the half-expressed yet significant idea 
 in her head, Lucrezia di Mirano traversed the room 
 iu order to throw herself into the way of the 
 handsome young Frenchman. Edgar Marcellin 
 was spee-iily by her side; they sat dort'n together 
 upon a sofa, apart from the guests generally ; and 
 Lucrezia soon found that rumour had iu no way 
 deceived her in respect to the intellectual accom- 
 plishments of Edgar Marcellin. The evening 
 passed away — the company departed— and as Lu- 
 crezia di Mirano retired to her own chamber, she 
 thought to herself that the conquest of the young 
 Frenchman was already assured. Ciprina also 
 thought of Edgar Marcellin— but in what parti- 
 cular strain we are not at present enabled to inform 
 the reader. 
 
 A fortnight passed from the date of thiit bril- 
 liant entertainment; and EJgar Marcellin called 
 almost daily at the mansion. It usually happened 
 that the Marchioness and Ciprina were both toge- 
 ther in the drawing-room when the young French- 
 man was announced: and when this was the case, 
 his attentions were decidedly not more marked 
 towards one than towards the other. His manner 
 had the ease and frankness of a gentleman louug- 
 iug away some idle time at a house where he koew 
 he was welcome; and it likewise exhibited the 
 increasing friendliness which naturally arose from 
 the frequent repetition of the visits, and which 
 soon began to approximate what may bo termed 
 intimacy. Sometimes however Ciprina happened 
 to be absent when E Igar Marcellin called ; and 
 then the Marchioness gradually began to give him 
 to understand, as far as at the outset she chose to 
 go, that he was by no means an object of indif- 
 ference to her: and Edgar accordingly threw 
 tender looks upon the beautiful Florentine lady. 
 Yet though it thus happened that the Marchioness 
 and EJgar sometimes found themselves-alone toge- 
 ther, it never occurred that the Marchioness herself 
 was absent and that he and Ciprina met tete a-tete. 
 Lucrezia Mirano always took care to be present at 
 the hour when the young Frenchman's visits might 
 be expected. 
 
 One day Ciprina happened to be passing through 
 the picture-gallery on her way to the library, 
 where she wishei to procure somo particular 
 French or English books, of which there was a
 
 308 
 
 1.0SEB; OB, BEAUTY A1II> PLEASCBB. 
 
 , Giulio ?' 
 1 tbia gal. 
 
 Urge asaortment,— when she beheld the handsome 
 young page Giulio turn abruptly away into a 
 windoff-recess; and there he stood with his back 
 towards Ciprina as she passed. Indeed it was 
 evident that he affected to be looking down into 
 the garden, and not to perceive her presence there 
 at all ; so that it at once struck her he must be 
 concealing some strong emotion. Her first im- 
 pulse was to pass on without appearing to notice 
 the young page: but a senliment of curiosity 
 induced her to retrace her way; and accosting him, 
 she said, " Do you happen to know whether the 
 door of the library is unlocked ?' 
 
 " Yes, Signora— I believe so," replied Giulio, 
 but without altering his position at the casement 
 or lurning bis countenance towards Ciprina. 
 
 She now felt convinced that some strong emotion 
 was agitating the young page : her curiosity was 
 still more piqued than at first ; and determined, if 
 possible, to gratify it, she sought an excuse for coQ. 
 tinuing the conversation. 
 
 " What is it that attracts your attention in the 
 garden, Giulio?" she inquired. 
 
 " ^Notbiog, Signora — nothing," he responded 
 somewhat petulantly : " only— I mean that 1 love 
 to— to — look out upon the evergreens— 
 
 " And perhaps you are fond of pictur 
 said Ciprina ; " as I find you lounging 
 lery where there are certainly some beautiful 
 specimens of the painter's art — and none more 
 remarkable than the portrait exactly opposite." 
 
 Giulio started, and dung upon Ciprina a look 
 which was evidently meant to ascertain whether 
 she had an object in making that observation, or 
 whether it had been merely thrown out at random. 
 She now saw that he had been weeping ; and he, 
 struck by the thought that he was betraying his 
 emotion, quickly averted his countenance again. 
 
 "You are unhappy, Giulio?" said Ciprina: 
 "and though perhaps it is scarcely seemly for me 
 to (jueslion you on such a point " 
 
 " Ob, unhappy ?" he exclaimed, in a sudden 
 paroxysm of excitement. " Yes — I am unhappy ! 
 But not to you, Signora, dare I reveal the cause ! — 
 nor if I did, ought I to expect words of sympathy 
 from your lips. No! — but the laugh of ridicule, 
 or contempt and scorn " 
 
 " Giulio, 1 am incapable of ridiculing the sor- 
 rows of a fellow-creature," answered Ciprina. 
 " Therefore, again I say that if it be not unseemly 
 for me to question you — and if you think fit " 
 
 At this moment it struck both Ciprina and 
 Giulio that the door at the further extremity of 
 the gallery opened for an instant and then closed 
 again, genlly though suddenly. Ciprina stopped 
 short, while she and the youth exchanged rapid 
 glances of inquiry. 
 
 "Methought the door opened," said Ciprina, 
 " and that it was instantaneously closed again " 
 
 "The same idea struck me, Signora," answered 
 the page : " but yet it could scarcely have been 
 
 I her ere she had given utterance to words which 
 might almost have been looked upon as savouring 
 of the si^nificancy of an overture, or at all events 
 
 I of being invested with a certain degree of impor- 
 
 " It must have been mere fancy, Signora," said 
 the young page : and with a respectful bow he 
 moved away from the window-recess, bending his 
 steps in the direction of the door which he and 
 Ciprina bad for a moment imagined to have been 
 opened and shut at the further extremity of the 
 gallery. i 
 
 The young lady could not now seek to detain [ 
 him ; and she therefore passed on in the opposite , 
 direction, towards the library. Her curiosity was ! 
 still piqued in reference to the handsome young | 
 page : and she almost resolved to seek another op- [ 
 portunity of questioning him. The allusion to- [ 
 the portrait bad evidently touched a chord which | 
 vibrated in bis heart: she knew the intimacy I 
 which had subsisted between himself and the ilar- | 
 chioness— she had seen no alteration of conduct i 
 on the part of Lucrezia towards him — and she 
 wondered therefore why the youth should be so 
 unhappy. 
 i On the following morning, when the Slarchio- 
 ness and Ciprina were seated at the breakfast- 
 table, the former said, " It is a delicious day, my 
 friend, for the season of the year: and I have 
 conceived a fancy to take a trip to the villa. Will 1 
 you accompany me ? We will pass a day or two | 
 there— or as long a period as you like " I 
 
 " I shall be most happy to accompany you, my 
 dear Lucrezia," answered Ciprina ; " and as for 
 the length of our sojourn at your charming seat 
 in the Tale of Arno, it shall depend entirely upon 
 your own will and pleasure." 
 
 The carriage was ordered to be in readiness at 
 about noon ; and Ciprina presently withdrew to 
 her chamber to perform her toilet for the journey. 
 When, at mid-day, she descended the marble stair- 
 case in company with the Marchioness to enter the 
 carriage, she perceived that Giulio was to accom- 
 pany them, for he was standing at the door of 
 the equipage. He had a pensive melancholy look 
 — though in other respects his features were en- 
 tirely composed ; and Ciprina observed that in- 
 stead of flinging upon the Marchioness a furtive 
 look of love and admiration as he had often before 
 been wont to do, his eyes were bent down- 
 ward as she lightly placed her hand upon his arm 
 while she ascended into the vehicle. Ciprina fol- 
 lowed—the door was closed— Giulio leapt up Into 
 the rumble behind ; and away went the splendid 
 equipage through the streets of Florence. 
 
 The villa was reached ; and the Marchioness 
 said to Ciprina, " I hope, my dear friend, that you 
 will not be dull, or find the time hang heavy upon 
 your hands here to-day ; for it is not probable that 
 we shall receive any visits until the morrow — 
 I have invited no company to meet us at din- 
 
 " No— it could scarcely have been so," said Ci- " My dear Lucrezia," exclaimed Ciprina, " cat 
 prina: "for no one could have hesitated to enter 1 1 not be happy with you? and does not this beau. 
 because " ' tiful place possess all the charms and attractione 
 
 She stopped short, and did not give audible ex- j requisite to make a sojourn here most agreeable ?' 
 pression to the finish of the sentence. What she | " I trust that you will find it so," rejoined thi 
 meant to say was to the effect that no one would Marchioness. " Come ! let us walk through th< 
 retreat from that door on account of her and Giulio ' apartments: for since you were last here, various 
 being there together. But her pride had checked ! objects of interest have been added, — statues,
 
 AGUES ; OB, BEAUIT iHD 
 
 30* 
 
 Taaes, pictures indeed, you remember I told 
 
 ;ou the other day that I had commissiooed a 
 connoisseur to attend a sale for me, with carte 
 ilanche to make what purchases he thought fit ; 
 and the results are now here." 
 
 The new purchases were accordingly inspected ; 
 
 * and Ciprina was much interested in the objects 
 
 which she thus beheld. But she was completely 
 
 astonished on being conducted to the suite of 
 
 chambers specially appropriated to the use of the 
 
 I Marchioness herself. This suite consisted of an 
 
 j elegant boudoir, a bath-room, and a bedchamber. 
 
 j Ciprina had seen them before ; she was then 
 
 I pleased with the luxury and taste of all the ap- 
 
 f pointments; but now she was astonished as well 
 
 as interested, for all those appointments had been 
 
 changed— the boudoir and the bedchamber had 
 
 been completely re-furnished, in a style of mingled 
 
 elegance and sumptuousnees which utterly defies 
 
 description. 
 
 "This is truly beautiful !" exclaimed Ciprina: 
 "the draperies are the handsomest I ever beheld ! 
 These ornaments — these embellishments— all these 
 exquisite panel-paintings — that elaborate gilding 
 
 — those mouldings " 
 
 " Well, I am glad that you are pleased with the 
 apartments," said the Marchioness; "&m 
 be a source of delight to me if you will consider 
 this suite of rooms to be your own?" 
 
 " What ! and deprive you of the apartments you 
 have thus elegantly fitted up for your own use ?" 
 
 "The villa has other suites of apartments," re- 
 joined the Marchioness, with a smile; "and if 
 these be to your taste, perhaps I shall find others 
 equally well adapted to my own liking. At all 
 events, my dear Ciprina, I expect that you will 
 consider this suite as your own ; and therefore let 
 us say not another syllable on the subject. The 
 weather is magnificent — we will go forth and 
 breathe the fresh air of the pleasure-grounds." 
 
 The two ladies walked in the garden; and they 
 whifed away the time until the dinner-hour. They 
 dined alone together : music and conversation 
 made the evening pass rapidly ; and as the Mar- 
 ■ehioness complained of fatigue, they retired at 
 about ten o'clock. 
 
 Ciprijia proceeded to the exquisitely appointed 
 Buite of apartments which she had so much ad- 
 mired, and which the Marchioness had abandoned 
 to her use. Two lady'a-maids assisted at her 
 night-toilet; and they retired when Ciprina was 
 in readiness to seek her couch. But when the 
 maidens were gone, Ciprina did not at once enter 
 that couch : she experienced not the slightest in 
 clination for slumber— she had only sought her 
 chamber thus unusually early because the Mar- 
 chioness herself, complaining of fatigue, had shown 
 an inclination to retire betimes to her own room. 
 Ciprina was delighted with the exquisite appoint- 
 ments in the suite where she found herself: 
 whichever way she turned there was something 
 fresh to admire. The wax-lights which were 
 burning in her chamber, revealed new objects of 
 interest in every direction where her eyes fell. 
 Thus, with merely a loose wrapper thrown around 
 her form— with her raven hair floating over her 
 ebouldera and bosom— and with her naked feet 
 thrust into slippers, Ciprina wandered about the 
 chamber, inspecting all its features of adornment 
 and embellishment. She might have been thus 
 
 occupied about a quarter of an hour, when to her 
 surprise she suddenly beard an equipage driv9 
 rapidly out of the premises ; and on speeding to 
 the window, she discerned by the aid of the clear 
 moonlight the travelling-carriage of the Marchio- 
 ness. Ciprina could not understand what this 
 might mean : she turned away in bewilderment 
 from the casement — but it was only to be startled 
 by a fresh incident that occurred; for a door, the 
 existence of which was hitherto unsuspected b? 
 her, opened in the panelled wall, and the young 
 page Giulio made his appearance ! 
 
 An ejaculation of mingled anger and surprise 
 burst from the lips of Ciprina: but it was an ex- 
 pression of the most unmixed amazement whicti 
 fell from those of Giulio. 
 
 CnAPTER Lir. 
 
 OICII o 
 
 E D O A K. 
 
 Cipriita's anger was for a moment excited by the- 
 idea that the young page had of his own accord 
 audaciously sought that chamber, knowing that 
 she herself was there : but when she perceived 
 how immense was his amazement, she felt con- 
 vinced that his presence was the result of an 
 error. Hastily drawing the wrapper more closely 
 around her form, she said, with a half smile and 
 with a slight blush upon her countenance, " It ia 
 not I whom you expected to meet here, Giulio ?" 
 
 But instead of making any answer— instead of 
 even showing the slightest inclination to quit th» 
 chamber — the young page stood as if riveted upon 
 the threshold of the door which had given him 
 admittance, and which communicated with a 
 private staircase the existence of which had been 
 utterly unknown to Ciprina. Tcs- there stood 
 the youth, transfixed with amazement, gazing 
 upon Ciprina as it unable to believe the evidence 
 of his own eyes : — and then an expression of dark 
 sinister rage swept over his features. 
 
 " By heaven," he muttered, " this is too much t 
 It must have been done purposely ! But tell me, 
 Signora— how came you here ? why did you not 
 depart ia the carriage ? Surely, surely all thi3- 
 has not been done with your consent ?" 
 
 " I do not understand you, Giulio," interjected 
 Ciprina, for a moment inclined to be angry at the 
 thought that she should become an accomplice in. 
 any plot to bring about an intrigue between her- 
 self and a menial : but her curiosity was too much 
 excited to allow her to put an abrupt end to th» 
 scene without first obtaining some explanations. 
 
 " Signora," he said, "pray answer me :" 
 
 " You have spoken to me in egnimas, Giulio,*** 
 she rejoined : " you have addressed to me queries 
 the purport of which I cannot understand. Come ! 
 — under existing circumstances there must be no 
 fastidiousness! Shut that door, and explain to mo 
 why you are here." 
 
 Giulio now seemed absorbed in dark and 
 agitating thoughts ; for this much his countenance 
 denoted. He did not move from the threshold of 
 that secret door : he even appeared to be uncon- 
 scious of Ciprina'a presence, — until suddenly rais- 
 ing his looks, he demanded sternly, " Signora, ho^ 
 came you here ?"
 
 AGUES; OK, BBAPTI AMU l-iEABWBB. 
 
 I " Giulio," responded Ciprina, " you seem to 
 forget the differeuce which subsists between us. 
 You speak to me with an imperiousncss which 
 would elicit the most in iignant rebuke from mj 
 lips were it not that I feel that existing circutn- 
 stauces are as peculiar as they are embarrassing, 
 and t'uat therefore we must give eiplanations. 
 Tor roy part I have nothing more to say than this, 
 — that on arriviog here in the afternoon, the Mar- 
 chioness indicated this suite of apartments to be 
 henceforth my own, whenever 1 might sojourn at 
 the villa." 
 
 " Ah !" — and now the young page appeared to 
 b^gin to have some clue to the reading of a mys- 
 tery which had perplexed him : but the li;;ht of 
 intelligence which shone in his eyes, was sinister 
 and peculiar. 
 
 " And you were ignorant, Signura," he said, 
 " of the intended departure of ijer_ ladyship this 
 night f" 
 
 " Utterly ignorant," replied Ciprina. " I heard 
 the sounds of the equipage suddenly leaving the 
 premises— I looked from the window — I saw that 
 it was the traveling-carriage which brought us 
 hither in the miodlo of the day — I was still over- 
 whelmed with astonishment, when this secret door 
 opened " 
 
 " Ab ! then it was indeed a secret door so far as 
 you, Signora, were concerned ?" exclaimed Gmlio : 
 " and you expected not that your privacy would 
 ' be intruded upon?" 
 
 " Assuredly not !" answered Ciprina. 
 
 " Forgive me, lady, therefore, for this intru- 
 sion !" said Giulio, with a low respectful bow : 
 and stepping back over the threshold; he vanished 
 from Ciprina's view, the door closing in a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Ciprina was almost as much astonished at this 
 last proceeding as she was at the abrupt appear- 
 a-jce of the page in the first instance. Soe bad 
 expected explanations : but he vanished, leaving 
 her curiosity ungratiBed. She was half ioelined 
 to open the secVet door, if possible, and call after 
 him : but she scarcely liked to take this step, for 
 the idea was growing up in her miad that the 
 Marchioness had been purposely mannceuvring to 
 throw Giulio and herself together. Ciprina sought 
 her couch, wondering what explanations the mor- 
 row would elicit ;— and sleep gradually stole upon 
 
 When the maids entered Ciprina's chamber in 
 the morning, one of them said, " You must not 
 be surprised nor annoyed, Signora, if you find 
 yourself alone at the breakfast-table presently; for 
 tb.* Marcbionesj was suaimoL^'^ back to Florence 
 las night " 
 
 " Indeed?" ejaculated Ciprina. "I heard an 
 equipage depart between eleven and twelve 
 o'clock " 
 
 " It was her ladyship's travelling carriage. It 
 appears, Signora," continued the maid, '* that 
 sbOrtly after you retired to your chamber last 
 evening, a messenger arrived with a letter for the 
 Marchioness -I b lievo it was to announce the 
 6U Men and very serious illness of some particular 
 laiiy-l'rieud— so that the equipage was ordered — 
 her ladyship would not allow you to be disturbed — 
 and she set off with the least possible delay." 
 
 " And I presume the Marchioness will return 
 in the course of the day ?" said Ciprina. 
 
 " Most probably, Signora," rejoined the maid. 
 " At all events, if you wish to retjrn to Florence 
 before her ladyship comes back to the villa, there 
 are equipages here " 
 
 ** yo, I am not in any hurry to return to Flo- 
 rence," interrupted Ciprina. " L-t breakfast be 
 served up in my boudoir. But Ah ! when I be- 
 think me, it will be only kind on my part if I 
 send oil a note to the Marchioness, condoling with 
 ber on the illness of her friend, and offering 
 my services if in any way they can be rendered 
 available. Tuerefore bid Giulio come to me pre- 
 sently : I will despatch him to Florence " 
 
 '■ Giulio is not here, Signora," was the reply : 
 " he set off at an early hour on horseback for Flo. 
 rence: bat any other one of the male domestics 
 will perform y.iur errand." 
 
 " Well, we shall see presently," said Ciprina : 
 and her morning toilet being now complete, she 
 passed into her boudoir. 
 
 She was annoyed to find that Giulio was not at 
 the villa. She had really no intention of de- 
 spatching any note to the Marchioness, for she 
 felt assured that the tale of the lady-fiiend'a sud- 
 den illness was only a pretext or an excuse for ber 
 own abrupt departure:— but Ciprina wanted to 
 see Giulio that she might elicit from his lips 
 something more in the way of explanation than 
 on tbe preceding evening she had obtained. 
 
 Ciprina was giving way to her reflections. The 
 morning repast was terminated— she was half re- 
 dining upon a sofa, with ber usual air of indolence. 
 By her beauty she indeed seemed well fitted to oc- 
 cupy that exquisitely furnished apartment, where 
 tbe atmosphere was warm and perfumed, and where 
 love might from surrounding ol>jects find impulses 
 or suggestions for the pleading of its suit. For 
 the pictures suspended to the walls depicted scenes 
 from the heathen mythology relative to the amours 
 of gods and goddesses ; while the alabaster sta- 
 tuettes repiesented kindred subjects. There was 
 no indelicacy either in tbe paintings on the can- 
 vas or in tbe statuary groups : but still the effect 
 was that of a refined sensuousness and exqui- 
 sitely sublimated voluptuousness which couU hot 
 fail to produce a particular impression under cer- 
 tain circumstances. 
 
 Ciprina was reclining upon tbe sofa, giving <ray 
 to her reflections, when the door of the boudoir 
 gently opened, and one of the maids gliding in, 
 introduced a gentleman. She immediately retired : 
 an exclamation of mingled surprise and joy burst 
 from the lips of Edgar Marc-.-llin— for he tbe gen- 
 tleman was ; and hastening forward, ho threw 
 himself at the lady's feet, exclaiming, '■ T.iauks — 
 a lhou3.:nd thanks, beauteous Ctpriiia 1 for this un- 
 expected pleasure ! For, Ou 1 though the pretext 
 was gratifying to my vanity, yet this reality, as I 
 now liod it, is most in accordance with my heart'a 
 desire !" 
 
 This language was utterly enigmatical to Ci- 
 prina : she could not for the life of her compre- 
 hend it : but it was evident that she felt not of- 
 fended with tbe handsome young Frenchman (or 
 the step he had taken. Pleasure, and salisluction, 
 and triumph shone luminously in her eyes, as she 
 gave him ber band, which he pressed to his lips. 
 
 " Ab, Ciprina! dearest Ciprina !" he exclaimed ; 
 " then it is as I have been informed, and you have 
 all along loved me?"
 
 AOFE8; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURB. 
 
 311 
 
 *' I have loved jou, Eiigir,'* she replied, raisin* 
 him up from his supplianc posture, and suffering 
 him lo take a seat upon the sofa. " Yes, from 
 
 the verj insUnt that we first met " 
 
 " And I too felt my heart smitten vith love for 
 yoursalf," said ilarcellin, ajnin pr ssing h;r beau 
 tiful hand to his lips. "But why that coldness 
 and reserve on the evening when we first met ?" 
 "Because," rosponded Ciprina, " all the ladies 
 around seemed to feel that yru came as the con- 
 queror of all hearts— that you were a victor against 
 whom it were utterly useless to struggle— and that 
 therefore the octy alternative was to kneel and 
 submit at unce. But f, Eigar, had my pride : I 
 pretended to he indiiTerent — I treated you as it 
 
 you were a mere ordinary person yet in my 
 
 heart I had the presentiment that the lime would 
 come when we should be different towarls each 
 other;— and then, on the morrow, that presenti- 
 ment—that idea— that hope I may almost term 
 it — was destroyed !" 
 
 " Destroyed ?" echoed Edgar. " And why S( ?" 
 " Because- because," said Ciprina, hesitatingly, 
 " I saw that the Marchioness di Jlirano had been 
 strucE by you — and as I had appeared in the very 
 first instance to he utterly indifferent with regard 
 to you, and had even iu my silly pride expressed 
 as much to the Marchioness, 1 felt that it was 
 only Ihen fair to leave the stage entirely open for 
 herself, and to resign whatsoever aspiration 1 
 might secretly have formed. But you, Edgar — 
 why on your side were you likewise glacial and 
 distant ?" 
 
 " When I entered the brilliant saloon that even- 
 ing," responded Marcellin, " I perceived a sensa- 
 tion and an interest all around,— one lady only 
 seeming to be apathetic and indifferent. That 
 lady was yourself. "We were introduced ; 1 
 treated you as you treated me. 1 b- re myself to- 
 wards you with a cold politeness, — but yet a 
 politeness which 1 strove to render most perfect 
 and unexceptionable in all its details, so that there 
 should be nothing savouring of vindictiveness or 
 insult. And even while we were thus demeaning 
 ourselves towards each other, I could not help 
 thinking that there was in your heart a secret 
 yearning towards me, as I felt that there was on 
 my part towards you. It seemed to me as if we 
 were two superior beings, infinitely above the 
 common range of those around us, and that there- 
 fore we were disputing as it were the arena, 
 Deither choosing to surrender to the other at the 
 first encounter. But afterwards, when I called at 
 the mansion— and when I found that you con- 
 tinued precisely the same towards me, your man- 
 ner being that of a mere lady-like courtesy,-^l 
 began to fai:cy that fur the first time in my life 1 
 was mistaken— that I had in reality made no im- 
 pression upon your heart— or that it might be 
 otherwise engaged. Then perceiving an inclina- 
 tion on the part of the Marchioness di Mirano to 
 
 initiate a little affair of gallantry and you 
 
 must confess, lovely Ciprina, that next to your- 
 self your friend Lucrezia is the most beautiful 
 
 woman in Florence " 
 
 "I have not sufficient vanity to admit the truth 
 of such a compliment," exclaimed Ciprina, smil- 
 ing. "Lucriaia di Mirano is assuredly the moj< 
 beautiful woman without any exception in all 
 Florence !" 
 
 I igar ten 
 
 "Yes — at this moment," interjected 
 derly ; "because the lovely Ciprina is not in 
 Florence, but is here at this charming villa in the 
 Vale of Arno I Oh, is not this Iove*s own chosen 
 retreat ? and ought not I to esteem myself blessed 
 in being permitted to penetrate into this sanc- 
 tuary ?" 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated Ciprina, "you have yet to tell 
 me what circumstance sent or brought you hither ? 
 — and at the same time you must explain what 
 you just now meant by the observation that 
 though some pretest was gratifying to your 
 vanity, yet that the reality, as you now found it, 
 was most in accordance with your heart's desire. 
 And then too you said that you had been informed 
 that I had all along loved you. Pray who on 
 earth could have been this informant ?" 
 
 " The explanation can be given in a very few 
 words," replied Edgar Marcellin. " That hand- 
 some young page -" 
 
 "Ah! Giuli.i.'" said Ciprina, not altogether 
 surprised to find that he was in some way mixed 
 up in the affair. 
 
 " Yes — the handsome page Giulio," proceeded 
 Edgar, "came to me just now, at the hotel where 
 I am residing in Florence. He bade me take 
 horse without delay, and proceed to this villa. 
 Here I was to inquire for a maid bearing the same 
 of Lisetta ; ond of Lisetta I was to demand that 
 she would conduct loe into the presence of her 
 mistress, by whom Giulio nssured me I had all 
 along been sincerely loved. Methought he alluded 
 to the Marchioness di Mirano ; and therefore ilid 
 I inform you, beauteous Ciprina, at the outset that 
 the pretext would have gratified my heart's vanity, 
 whereas the reality which I now enjoy is the grati- 
 fication of my heart's desire." 
 
 " Still I do not comprehend you," said Ciprina ; 
 " or rather methinks that you yourself must be 
 labouring under a misapprehension. You believe 
 that " 
 
 " Oh, play not the part of a prude with me, 
 dearest Ciprina!" exclaimed E'igar Marcellin, 
 " Confess that it was ynu who seut the young pa:;e 
 to me,— that not knowing how I might be .lis- 
 posed towards yourself, you nevertheless felt 
 assured that I should come if invoked in the name 
 of the Marchioness— that you therefore bale 
 
 mind the impression that it was Luerpzia herself 
 summoning me hither ! Yes, Ciprina! it was thus 
 that you acted ! But you judiciously and kiririly 
 suffered it to be announced unto me that she whom 
 I was to meet here had loved me all along! ' 
 
 Ciprina did not think it worth while to enter 
 into explanations with Edgar Marcellin on the 
 points to which he had boen referring. She loved 
 -that is to say, as much as her sensuously- 
 formed heart could experience the passion of love : 
 I was with her— they had been brought together 
 and little indeed did it now matter by what cir- 
 mstances this meeting had been accomplished. 
 Ciprina therefore suffered Edgar Marcellin to ro- 
 under the impressions which it was not 
 worth while to remove; and as she had full license 
 from the Marchioness to use the villa as her own, 
 and >n all respec'.s to act as if she were as much 
 mistress there as her ladyship's self, she invited 
 Edgar to pass the remainder of the day with her. 
 Yet there was still one little circumstance which
 
 312 
 
 E, BEirTT AND PLEA9DRB. 
 
 her ; aa^ this was, that the Marchioness 
 might bo ofTended on learning of this succeeeful 
 though unpremeditated rivatrj on Ciprina's part. 
 Yet as Ciprina felt almost convinced that Lucrezia 
 had intended to throw her into the arms of the 
 page Giu.io, she looked upon the present occur- 
 rence as a commcnsurale little piece of revenge for 
 that still ineiplicable trick. Nevertheless, it must 
 be observed that Ciprina would have been ver; 
 loath to provoke an actual quarrel with the Mar- 
 cbiuness, or seem to be ungrateful for the kindness 
 she bad received at her bands. 
 
 We must now return to Lucrezia's town-man- 
 eion in Florence. The reader has seen how abruptly 
 she quitted the villa between eleven and twelve 
 o'clock at night ; and she was speedily borne to 
 her palatial residence in the city. Ttiere she 
 passed the remainder of that night: for the story 
 ■of the illness of the lady-friend was but a pretext, 
 as we have previously hinted. On the following 
 morning Lucrezia di Mirano was seated at the 
 breakfast-table at about ten o'clock, when the door 
 opened and the young page Giulio entered the 
 room, bearing a crystal dish of hothouse fruits, 
 which be placed upon the board with an air as if 
 nothing unusual had taken place— although per- 
 hsps a close observer and one who knew bim well 
 might have fathomed the uneasiness and restless- 
 ness which agitated as an under-current beneath 
 the calm unruffled surface. The Marchioness gave 
 an involuntary start as she beheld him : but in- 
 stantaneously recovering her own composure and 
 Eclf-possession, she said, " I thought you were at 
 the villa, Giulio?" 
 
 " Your ladyship left me at the villa last night," 
 answered the youth, coldly and sadly : " but I 
 left it at an early hour this morning. 1 thought 
 that wherever the Marchioness di Mirano might 
 be, there was the place of my duties !" 
 
 "And I thought, Giulio," said Lucrezia 
 severely, " that it was the duty of a servant to 
 obey orders. I took you to the villa — and there 
 you should have remained until I bade you return 
 hither or go elsewhere." 
 
 " X see, lady, that the moment for explanations 
 has come," said Giulio, speaking firmly and even 
 with dignity, but entirely without insolence or in- 
 timidation ; so that there was nothing of the im- 
 pertinent menial nor of the cowardly bully in his 
 
 Yes- 
 
 left 
 
 and your ladyship not merely gave me to under- 
 stand that the Sigoora Ciprina was about to leave 
 in the carriage for Florence, but likewise you 
 bade me avail myself at a given hour of the secret 
 staircase and tbe private door; and I was happy- 
 yes, happy once again, for metbought that the 
 puor page Gmlio might not after all have been 
 
 " Enough of this insipid sentimentalism !" ejacu- 
 lated the Marchioness, almost fiercely. "If you 
 had properly finished your tale, you would have 
 stated that on ascending into the boudoir you 
 touod yourself clasped in the arms of one whose 
 beiuty had fired your soul, and who on her own 
 dide lunged for an opportunity -" 
 
 " Good heavens, my ludy ! what mean you ?" 
 TJacutated the young pa(;e, with the most un- 
 feigned astonisliment. " I found myself not 
 «<asped in the lady's arms — she was in jignant and 
 •s.-Tpri8ed — I was filled with 
 
 " And then," interrupted Lucrezia, with bit- 
 terest irony, " all these strong feelings — surprise, 
 indignation, and wonderment— were melted and 
 absorbed in the passion so voluptuous and ten- 
 der " 
 
 " Lady, it was not so!" ejaculated the page, his 
 handsome countenance Hushing a vivid scarlet. 
 " Tbe Signora Ciprina treated me only as a me- 
 
 " False youth !" ejaculated Lucrezia angrily : 
 " why do you thus persist in a ridiculous attempt 
 to deceive me P Nay, interrupt me not ! I com- 
 mand you to be silent, and hear me ! I have been 
 kind to you : but as for loving you, how often and 
 often have I told you when you have been puling 
 and whining at my feet, that tl/e power of love 
 existed not within me? Yuu knew therefore that 
 to me you were nothing more than the object of a 
 passing fantasy, to bo sooner or later discarded 
 as a man discards bis mistress. Well then, I was 
 rejoiced when 1 saw that having triumphed over 
 tbe insane and hopeless passion which you bad 
 been cherishing for me, you had become sensible 
 to the superb beauties of Ciprina; and 1 was re- 
 solved to afi"ord you both the opportunity which I 
 knew you desired. But this aim I sought to ac- 
 complish with a delicacy that should be under- 
 stood, and which would afford no scope for subse- 
 quent discourse or comment. I gave Ciprina my 
 own suite of apartments ; and 1 left the villa in 
 order that she might remain the mistress there. I 
 did not choose, when 1 told you that it was 
 Ciprina who was going to' return last night to 
 Florence, and when I bade you ascend unto tha 
 chamber at a given hour— I did not choose, I say, 
 to look you in tbe face and let you know that I, 
 your mistress, was thus in reality pandering to 
 your pleasures. And now you have the indelicacy 
 and the audacity to speak on these subjects *" 
 
 " My lady, you are mistaken !" eotclaimed the 
 youth, his whole form writhing with agony at the 
 thought of bein^' so much misunderstood. " I swear 
 to you that tbe Signora Ciprina's beauty has never 
 upon me produced the slightest effect! Equally 
 confident am I that towards the Signora Ciprina 
 herself I am an object of corresponding indif- 
 ference " 
 
 " 'Tis false, Giulio !" exclaimed the Marehionsas, 
 now starting up from her seat and stamping her 
 foot with rage and impatience. " I saw you in 
 the picture-gallery together ! It wis the day be- 
 fore yesterday I Y'ou were in the window recess 
 — you were speaking in low and earnest tones — or 
 rather Ciprina was, and you were listening, doubt- 
 less with rapture, to tbe words of love and pas- 
 
 " Good heavens!" ejaculated Giulio, dismayed 
 at the stupendous error into which the Mjr- 
 chioness had fallen concerning him. 
 
 " Ab ! you plead guilty ? " continued Lucrezia 
 di Mirano ; " you find yourself beaten out of the 
 trenches of falsehood — and you confess yourself 
 vanquished ? Believe me, Gmlio, I was not espy- 
 ing your actions— for until that instant I had no 
 suspicion : but 1 was about to enter tbe picture- 
 gallery, and as I opened the door, there I beheld 
 you both! I at once comprehended everything 
 and I withdrew. It answered not my purpose to 
 break in upon your luviog tSte-a-tSte ; and you 
 never would have known that I bad seen yoii
 
 AGXES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 there in that gallery if you had not by your pre- 
 sent deceitful, false, and incomprehensible con- 
 duct " 
 
 " By all the holy saints, I adjure you to hear 
 me !" exclaimed the young page, who was evi- 
 dently suffering an intolerable anguish white la- 
 bouring under the imputations levelled against 
 him by the Marchioness, but in the justice of 
 which she herself most sincerely believed. " Yes 
 -—hear me, I beseech ! — hear me to the end — and 
 then judge me ! I have loved you— I love you 
 ■till : language has no power to describe this 
 love of mine fur you,, lady ! Well then, was it 
 not natural that 1 should be sad and that the iron 
 , of affliction should enter into my soul, when I per- 
 ^ ceived that your favour was being averted from 
 me and that it was turning towards the elegant 
 
 young Frenchman " 
 
 " Oiulio !" interrupted the Marchioness, " if it 
 were not for all that has taken place between us, 
 No. 40.— AQHE9. 
 
 this impertinence on your part should not for a 
 single moment be tolerated !" 
 
 " Ob, call it not impertinence !" said the youth 
 entreatingly : " it is the deep, deep regret— the 
 jealous feeling, if you will— the mingled humilia- 
 tion and indignation " 
 
 "Glulio, enough !" and the Marchioness again 
 stamped her foot with impatience. 
 
 " Lady, you mu&t hear me !" said G-iulio ; " for 
 my narrative will bring me to a concluding inci- 
 dent which more or le?^ regards youraeif. Listen 
 then — and I will be Iwiet — very brief! Loving 
 you as I do, my affliction was immense when I 
 perceived that your thoughts were turning towards 
 another. I watched the progress of this new sen- 
 timent of your's ; and in watching it, I made a 
 discovery which I little anticipated, and which 
 you, lady, can still less suspect " 
 
 '* And that discovery, Giulio ?" said the Mar- 
 chioness, becoming interested in the tale, though
 
 " I will tell you presently," he rejoined. " First 
 of all, in referenco to that scene which took place 
 in the gallery, I must inform you, lady, that in a 
 moment of utter despondency and affliction I 
 Bought the gallery to gaze upon the portrait which 
 though not painted for yourself, constitutes so mar- 
 vellous a representation of your own wondrous and 
 striking beauty. 1 was contemplating this por- 
 trait, I say, when the Signora Ciprina entered the 
 gallery. She was on her way to the library : she 
 saw that 1 was distressed-^she paused to question 
 me— she spoke some few words of sympathy — and 
 as 1 have a soul to be saved, lady, this was all that 
 passed between us ! As for love— a single syllable 
 pertaining thereto— or a single look reflecting the 
 eentiment, — may the Evil One himself at this 
 moment seize upon me if aught of all that took 
 place between the Signora Ciprina and myself!" 
 
 The Marchioness was staggered by the explana- 
 tions thus given. She recognised the possibility 
 of their truthfulness— the idea of their possibility 
 was succeeded by that of their probability ; but 
 before she admitted that the conviction had now 
 impressed itself on her mind, she was determined 
 to know everything to which Giulio had alluded. 
 She therefore said, " And that discovery which you 
 made,— what was it ?" 
 
 "The discovery, lady," responded Giulio, "that 
 Edgar Marcellin loves not you, but that he loves 
 the Signora Ciprina. Yes!— and that she herself 
 loves Edgar llarcellin, is a fact equally certain !" 
 
 "No, no, Giulio!"— and the ilarchioness be- 
 came for an instant deadly pale; then the next 
 moment she said in a cold low voice contrasting 
 strangely with the former excitement of her look 
 and accents, " you have your own motives, Giulio, ; 
 for telling me these things — and I may be per- 
 mitted to judge for myself in respect to the amount 
 of credit to be attached to them !" 
 
 " I am speaking truthfully — I swear that I am 
 speaking truthfully !" exclaimed the youthful page. 
 "Oh! 1 who love so well, can full easily discern ! 
 the evidences of love on the part of others ! The 
 slightest look— the most rapid glance which the 
 eye can throw — the accents of the voice— the flush [ 
 ! which flits across the countenance — indeed there | 
 ' are a thousand signs which ate either altogether j 
 imperceptible to those who love not, or which 
 seem to be the veriest trifles " 
 
 •' But even supposing, Giulio," interrupted the 
 
 [ ilarchioness di Mirano, " that the Signora Ciprina 
 
 loves Edgar Marcellin, and that he loves her in 
 
 I returi^- how does all this concern you? of what 
 
 ; avail is the wonderful discovery which you will 
 
 have thus made?" 
 
 '* Ah, lady ! do you not understand," cried 
 
 Giulio, " that if it be all as I proclaim, it is in 
 
 the tirst place a proof that the Signora Ciprina 
 
 _ could have entertained no particular sentiments 
 
 1 towards myself " 
 
 " Yes — granting this to be so," said the Mar- 
 chioness, " what other lesson would you teach me 
 through the same medium P I think you said 
 that you had some incident to announce, to which 
 all this i.a6 therefore been only a preface " 
 
 "If your ladyship wou d have the proof that 
 the brilliant young French gentleman loves the 
 Signora Ciprina, you need but repair to your 
 
 AGBEB; OK, BBAUIT ASD PIBABOEB. 
 
 scarcely knowing whether to deem the page sin- villa in the Vale of Arno : for Edgar Marcellin is 
 there !" 
 
 " Ah !" said the Marchioness— and the ejacula- 
 tion waa low — half stifled, and deeply concentrated: 
 but so strange a look for an instant swept over 
 her countenance that Giulio was frightened : he 
 had never seen that handsome face wear such a 
 look before :— it was as if a tigress had for that 
 single fleeting moment lent the reflection of its 
 own malignant rage to those features whose as- 
 pect was wont to be so mild, so gracious, and so 
 pleasing ! 
 
 But in another instant that expression was alto- 
 gether gone ; and Giulio fancied that he mast 
 have been mistaken in supposing it to have ex- 
 isted at all. 
 
 "Yes, lady," he continued, "Edgar Marcellin 
 has flown on the wings of love to your beautiful 
 villa in the Vale of Arno; and doubtless at this 
 moment he is clasped in the arms of her whom he 
 adores, in that exquisitely-appointed boudoir where 
 last night I stood for a few minutes in the presence 
 of the Signora Ciprina !" 
 
 " Ah ! Edgar Marcellin is there !" said Lucresia 
 di Mirano, in a voice which might now be taken 
 as expressive of apathy and unconcern. " And 
 you perhaps, Giulio, have done this— it was you 
 who brought it about ?" she added, inquiringly. 
 
 "Yes— it was I, lady!" responded the page. 
 " In thus acting I merely took a leaf out of your 
 own book : I followed the lesson which your lady- 
 ship had taught me. Ton, believing that I loved 
 the Signora Ciprina, took measures to throw me 
 into her arms; and 1 have now taken measures to 
 throw into her arms the one whom she really and 
 truly loves." 
 
 Lucrezia di Mirano remained silent for a fev 
 minutes: — her looks were bent downward — her 
 features were perfectly still — it waa impossible to 
 judge from their expression what was passing in 
 her thoughts. She seemed to be unmindful of the 
 continued presence of the page in the apartment ; 
 — while he watched her countenance with an 
 anxiety showing how uneasy he felt as to the result 
 of the present scene so far as it might regard him- 
 self. At the expiration of that long pause Lucrezia 
 slowly raised her eyes ; and then suddenly appear, 
 ing to be reminded that the page was still in the 
 apartment, she said in the kindest possible tone, 
 " My poor Giulio, you love me very much ?' 
 
 "Oh! I adore you!" — and while the light of 
 the strongest excitement appeared suddenly to 
 flame up in the youth's handsome dark eyes, the 
 glow of joy likewise appeared upon his cheeks, and 
 his whole frame trembled with the agitation of his 
 
 " I cannot blame you, Giulio," continued the 
 Marchioness, still speaking in the same kind tone, 
 " for what you have done in respect to Edgar Mar- 
 cellin and Ciprina. If they love each other— as 
 you assure me they do— it was an act of kindness 
 thus to throw them together. You are however 
 very much mistaken on one point, my dear boy," 
 added the Marchioness ; " and this is to suppose 
 that I entertain any particular regard for -M. Mar- 
 cellin. It is by no means the case ! And now let 
 the subject drop between us." 
 
 The Marchioness inclined her head with an air 
 
 gracious and friendly familiarity, as much as to 
 dIv that there was nothing more to be said and 
 
 oply that there was nothing more
 
 AGNES; OE, BBACTTT ASD PLEASUKB. 
 
 315 
 
 that the youth might retire : but he still lingered 
 —and suddenly throwing himself upon his knees 
 before her, be exclaimed, " Oh ! tell me— tell 
 how is it henceforth to he between you and me ? — 
 for you know, lady, that I love and adore you !" 
 
 '■Between you and me, Qiulio," replied Lucrezia, 
 " it shall henceforth bo just as it has hitherto been 
 And now let your mind be tranquillized !" 
 
 She bent down and dropped a kiss upon his 
 brow as he knelt at her feet : then bidding him 
 rise, she gently pushed him towards the door, so 
 that he was now compelled to retire from 
 apartment. 
 
 CHAPTER Mil. 
 
 THE SIDE IS THE MIST. 
 
 Be it remembered that the scene which we have 
 just described, took place in the early part of the 
 forenoon — or, indeed, at about ten o'clock. Hours 
 then passed away ; and the Marchioness of Mirano 
 remained at her town mansion, as if thus resolved 
 to leave Ciprina in quiet possession of the villa in 
 the Vale of Arno. Lucrezia did not appear to the 
 eyes of Giulio to be in any way dilFerent from 
 what she usually was. Every time he had occa- 
 sion to enter the drawing-room — where she passed 
 the greater portion of that day, and where she re- 
 ceived several visitors— she seemed as if nothing 
 had in any way transpired to disturb or annoy 
 her ; so that Giulio began to think that she must 
 really have spoken truly when she declared that 
 ho had misjudged her in respect to her sentiments 
 towards Edgar Marcellin. 
 
 The evening came ; and soon after the dusk 
 
 began to set in, Lucrezia di Mirano summoned 
 
 Giulio to the apartment in which she was seated. 
 
 "I wish you to proceed for me to the vill 
 
 Giulio," said the Marchioness. " I must write 
 
 note to the Signora Ciprina Indeed, I ought 
 
 to have done this in the morning after I learnt cer- 
 tain particulars from your lips: but I did not 
 
 think of it at the time and then the arrival of 
 
 visitors directed all my thoughts into other chan- 
 nels " 
 
 " I am ready to set ofif at once to the villa," 
 said Giulio; "and by my diligence in repairing 
 thither, will I seek to make up for the delay 
 which has occurred in your ladyship's thus com- 
 municating with the Signora Ciprina. But may 
 I hope that whatsoever I may have done or said 
 will cause no breach between that young lady and 
 yourself?" 
 
 "Oh, not the slightest!" exclaimed Lucrezia di 
 Mirano. " On the contrary, the note which I am 
 going to send to the Signora Ciprina, and of 
 which you must be the bearer, is to beg her to use 
 my villa as if it were her own— to remain there 
 80 long as a sojourn beneath its roof shall prove 
 
 agreeable to her In a word, Giulio, I wish to 
 
 giva Ciprina to understand that she may there 
 enjoy to her heart's content the companionship of 
 the lover whom she has chosen. My object is 
 twofold. It is not only to place Ciprina entirely 
 at her ease on the point which I have named, but 
 likewise to convince both herself and Edgar Mar- 
 cellin that I am experiencing no jealous anger on 
 
 account of what has happened, and that therefore 
 I never entertained towards M. Marcellin himself 
 any other feeling than that of friendship. Now 
 do you understand me, Giulio ?" 
 
 " I do, lady," he replied ; " and I will at onoa 
 become the bearer of the letter." 
 
 " You see, my dear Giulio," continued Lucrezia, 
 "it ought to have been despatched in the morn- 
 ing ; and for more reasons than one I regret the 
 delay which has occurred. However, it cannot 
 now be helped ; and I must console myself with 
 the old adage that it is better late than never." 
 
 Having thus spoken, Lucrezia di Mirano penned 
 a few lines to Ciprina; and having sealed the 
 letter, she gave it to Giulio, saymg, " You will set 
 off at once — you will not tarry at the villa longer 
 than is necessary to deliver the note and ascertain 
 whether there be any reply — and you will than 
 ride back to Florence." 
 
 "I will execute your ladyship's commands with 
 zeal and accuracy, in this as in all other respects:" 
 —and with these words Giulio issued frpm th9 
 
 Ordering a horse to be speedily caparisoned, 
 the young page mounted into the saddle and roda 
 away from the town mansion of his noble mistress. 
 The outskirts of Florence were soon gained ; and 
 then Giulio dashed rapidly aloiij the broad open 
 road which led towards the villa in the Vale of 
 Arno. The distance, as we have already said, was 
 about half-a-dozen miles; and the route lay 
 amidst the picturesque scenery of that vale, where 
 the most charming country-seats stand in tha 
 midst of gardens which are delightful even in the 
 winter season on account of lae evergreens that 
 flourish in such imperishable verdure there. Giulio 
 was now happy. He had plavi-d a bold stroke to 
 cause an immense breach betwixt the Marchioness 
 and the brilliant young Frencutnan ; and he had 
 fully succeeded. But that succi'ss had transcended 
 his most sanguine hopes in one important respect, 
 —and this was that he had not injured himself in 
 the estimation of the Marchi 
 he thought; — and so, as it wtj 
 reason to think ; for had she m 
 him.' had she not promised ( 
 should be betwixt them 
 
 rioss. At least so 
 
 id appear, he had 
 
 spoken kindly to 
 
 (iiat thenceforth all 
 
 hid hitherto been? 
 
 and was he not now bent upon the performance 
 
 of a secret and confidential err lud on her behalf? 
 
 No wonder therefore, if the you'ig page rode along 
 
 with a light heart, and with fei .iiiljs very diiFerenIi 
 
 indeed from those which h^ li ni experienced in 
 
 the morning when he hud first sougUc the presence 
 
 of his noble mistress to come tu explanations with 
 
 her! 
 
 In something less than an hour Giulio reached 
 the villa; and dismounting frojii his horse, he con- 
 signed the animal to a groom, /.dh the intimation 
 that he should require another steed to be in readi- 
 ness in about a quarter of an hour, as he was to 
 return with the least possible delay to Florenoa. 
 He then sought Lisetta, — the young lady's-maid 
 who has been before mentioned in connexion with 
 Edgar Marcellin'a admission iu.'o the presence of 
 "prina. We should here expUin that Lisetta 
 was of all the abigails either iic the villa or tha 
 town-mansion, most in the coniiilence of the Mar- 
 chioness of Mirano : she had ai.ied her mistress in 
 many an intrigue — her discretion was completely 
 to be relied upon— and sho vas prepared to assist
 
 316 
 
 AONES; OB, BEAUTY AND FLSASUSB. 
 
 the Signora Ciprina just as secretly and faithfully 
 as she had acted towards the Marchiooess. But 
 Lisetta was much attached to the handsome 
 Giuiio ; and thus, when he bad sought her ser- 
 vices to introduce Edgar Marcellin into Ciprina's 
 presence in the manner already known to the 
 reader, he had not sought in vain. Lisetta was a 
 young woman of about twenty, with a dark com- 
 plexion and a superb pair of eyes— but in other 
 respects rather interesting than pretty. She had 
 a roguish, espi^gle look; and as the reader may 
 suppose, her virtuous principles were not of the 
 most rigid character — for it was scarcely possible 
 to have been three or four years in the service of 
 liucrezia di Mirano without having caught the in- 
 fection of that lady's immorality. 
 
 Having given his instructions to the groom, 
 Oiulio sought Lisetta ; and when they were alone 
 together, he inquired how matters bad progressed 
 in reference to Edgar Marcellin ? 
 
 " M. Marcellin is still here," responded Lisetta : 
 " but he is going to take his departure presently— 
 for his horse has been ordered." 
 
 " Ah ! he is going to take his departure P" said 
 Giuiio. " But has he been here all day — since the 
 morning— in the boudoir with Ciprina P Tell me, 
 is it so, Lisetta P" 
 
 " It is so," answered the young woman. " And 
 now would you be kind enough to tell me some- 
 thing in your turn, you wicked mischievoufl boy !" 
 continued Lisetta, with arch good humour. "How 
 was it that you knew M. Marcellin would come 
 and ask to see my mistress, thereby meaning the 
 
 Marchionesf f — and why " 
 
 " Don't ask me any questions now, Lisetta," in- 
 terrupted Giuiio. " Another time I will give you 
 all explanations ! You see that I have not a mi- 
 nute to spare on the present occasion ; for when 
 my mission is accomplished I must ride back in all 
 haste to Florence. Hasten and give this note to 
 the Signora Ciprina; and tell her that I wait to 
 bear back to the Marchioness whatsoever answer 
 there may be." 
 
 Lisetta took the note and proceeded to the bou- 
 doir. In a few minutes she returned, with an in- 
 I timation that there was no answer beyond the 
 presentation of the kindest regards of the Signora 
 I Ciprina to the Marchioness of Mirano. Giuiio 
 accordingly prepared to take his departure : he 
 bade farewell to Lisetta — he proceeded to the 
 stables, where he found a horse in readiness for 
 himself, and another groom holding the steed of 
 Edgar Marcellin; for this gentleman was likewise 
 about to return to Florence. Giuiio did not care 
 to fall in with him : he therefore quickly mounted 
 the steed that was prepared for his own use: and i 
 he rode away from the premises. 
 
 But the youth's course was not pursued so ra- ' 
 pidiy in the homeward direction as it had been I 
 when riding from Florence to the villa ; for a deep ' 
 mist was now settling over the Vale of Arno. 
 This description of mist frequently makes its ap- 
 pearance with extraordinary suddenness in that 
 district : and on occasions it attains almost the 
 density of a London fog. It was thus increasing 
 in thickness as the page rode away from the villa ; 
 but as the route was perfectly familiar to him, he 
 experienced no apprehension : he merely felt him- 
 self necessitated to proceed with the utmost cau- 
 tion. The obscurity was completely hemming 
 
 him in : trees, villas, boundary-walls, and all object* 
 that usually greeted the eyes, were lost in that 
 depth of gloom through which no light of moon 
 nor star could penetrate. It was almost the same 
 as a London fog, with this difference — that instead 
 of being yellow it was white, and the eye could 
 see for a distance of about a couple of yards 
 around. 
 
 Giuiio had left the villa about a quarter of an 
 hour, when he heard the sounds of a horse's hoofs 
 coming from behind ; and be felt convinced that 
 this traveller must be M. Marcellin. lior was he 
 mistsken; for the handsome young Frenchman 
 speedily overtook the youth. 
 
 " It is you, Giuiio," he said in a blithe voice, — 
 "is it not? Yes, to be sure!— but through this 
 infernal mist it would be scarcely possible to recog- 
 nise one's own father at a distance of three or 
 four feet ! However, I thought it must be you 
 when first your form began to emerge from the 
 gloom, because I was informed at the villa that 
 you had just been and just left." 
 
 " And you, Signer," said Giuiio, " seem to ride 
 with tolerable fearlessness through this mist ; for 
 you were advancing at a smart trot when you over- 
 took me— whereas I was walking my horse." 
 
 " Pshaw ! do you think I am afraid ?" exclaimed 
 Edgar, with a laugh of reckless gaiety. " Though 
 I have travelled the route but once, yet can I well 
 rely on the sagacity of this steed of mine. And 
 then too, I have such a lightness of heart that I 
 am in a mood rather to enjoy the excitement of 
 a little danger than to shrink from it ! When one 
 has been basking for hours in the rays of beauty's 
 
 eyes — reclining in her arms " 
 
 Yes, Signer," said Giuiio, " you have every 
 reason to be happy ; for the Signora Ciprina loves 
 you dearly !" 
 
 You, my lad, must lead a singular life," said 
 Edgar Marcellin, "performing the part of a mes- 
 senger of love for those two beautiful women ! If 
 I were in jour place, I should be bewildered sod 
 
 intoxicated " 
 
 It does not become me. Signer, who am only 
 a menial," said Giuiio seriously, " to discuss such 
 questions or enter on such discourse as this." 
 
 By heaven, this is excellent, most sedate and 
 virtuous of pages !" cried the gay Frenchman, 
 laughing so merrily that his voice literally rang 
 
 waves of harmonious sound through the deepen- 
 
 g mist. " Such delicacy on your part is almost 
 as misplaced as prudery would be on the part of 
 ther of the ladies you serve !" 
 
 " Excuse me. Signer, for remarking," said Giuiio, 
 
 that it is neither generous nor honourable on 
 your part to speak with such levity of those two 
 ladies. The Marchioness di Mirano has received 
 you as a guest at her mansion " 
 
 " And her friend the beautiful Ciprina has re- 
 ceived me in her arms at the villa," exclaimed 
 Edgar Marcellin. " But for the life of me there 
 is something in all this which I can 'oarcly under- 
 stand, and which I shall be too glad to have ex- 
 plained. I am therefore well pleased to have over- 
 taken you, most discreet and fastidious of all 
 pages !" 
 
 " Signer," exclaimed Giuiio, all his warm Italian 
 blood glowing in his veins, " if it be your purpose 
 to insult me " 
 
 " Hah ! bah ! hah !"— and Edgar Marcellin now
 
 AONES; OB, BEAUTY AND TLBASirBB. 
 
 317 
 
 literally reeled in his saddle as be thus sent forth 
 the merriest peals of laughter. " What ! insult a 
 page— a lacquey — a menial— a valet! This is in- 
 deed excellent ! Truly, I have come to Italy to 
 learn some things which were utterly unknown to 
 me in France ! The idea of a page suddenly turn- 
 ing round upon you and considering himself in- 
 sulted ! But really, my good young man, I did 
 not mean to wound your feelings ; and 1 do not 
 mean to wound them now. On the contrary, I 
 owe you an immense debt of gratitude for having 
 this morning borne me the message of love which 
 led me to the villa to 6od myself clasped in the 
 arms of that beautiful Ciprina. Therefore I am 
 about to make you a present of some half-dozen 
 
 pieces of gold " 
 
 " I require not your gold, Signor," replied Giulio, 
 with proud and scornful accents. 
 
 Again did the gay, light-hearted, thoughtless 
 Frenchman laugh merrily ; and then he said, 
 " You are the most singular of all pages : but I 
 dare swear that we shall be very good friends in 
 the long run ! And now be so kind as to answer 
 me a question or two, that I may know precisely 
 bow 1 am situated and how I am to act. Is your 
 mistress Lucrezia di Mirano a veritable Mar- 
 ehioness ? is she a lady of real fortune f and is the 
 Signora Ciprina also in a condition of pecuniary 
 independence P Or is it all the reverse P and is 
 the magnificence of the town-mansion, as well as 
 the elegant luxury of the country villa, sustained 
 by such little affairs of gallantry as the one in 
 vrhich I 6nd myself involved ? For if so, I shall 
 with the utmost pleasure remit to-morrow a draft 
 
 upon my banker for a handsome amount >" 
 
 " Good heavens, Signor !" exclaimed Giulio, " to 
 what insulting language are you giving vent ! My 
 noble mistress is a veritable Marchioness, bearing 
 
 one of the proudest titles in Italy •" 
 
 " Still she may be an adventuress in money 
 matters," said Edgar : " for at Madrid I have seen 
 a Hidalgo, with the blood of a dozen ducal fami- 
 lies in his veins, standing at the door of a church 
 to receive alms from the friends who had known 
 bim in better days." 
 
 " Signor," said Giulio, " I had formed of you a 
 Tcry different opinion from that which I now en- 
 tertain : I thought that you were a gentleman of 
 
 delicate feelings, refined taste " 
 
 " Ah ! am I now to be subjected to the process 
 of a lecture ?" exclaimed Edgar, again laughing. 
 "You are the most extraordinary of all pages! 
 But do not be offended with me— and let us un- 
 derstand each other. If it be all love on the beau- 
 tiful Ciprina's side, and no selfish interest, I shall 
 be all the better pleased ; for I have really taken a 
 great fancy to the young lady. But if money be 
 required, rest assured that it will be with no nig- 
 gard hand that I shall p.iy for the blandishments 
 bestowed upon me." 
 
 "Enough, Signor!" ejaculated Giulio: "you 
 have made my blood boil to such a pitch that all 
 page though I am, and highly placed though you 
 
 may be — yet " 
 
 " Curb this hot temper of your's, my good boy," 
 said Marcellin. " I really mean no offence ! — I 
 
 only desire to know how I may act " 
 
 "And you have been told," interjected Giulio 
 curtly. 
 " Good !" said Marcellin : " but you will admit 
 
 that if I had not sought the information, I should 
 still have been in doubt and uncertainty on the 
 point ; for if such an adventure had occurred to 
 me in my own native France, I should at once 
 conceive that though there might be an immense 
 talk of love on the part of the fair one, yet that 
 the thoughts were mainly bent on bank-notes. 
 However, in respect to my present adventure, you 
 have set my mind at rest. And now if you will 
 so far condescend," continued Edgar Marcellin, 
 with a sort of good-humoured irony, " to slip these 
 eight or ten pieces of gold into your pocket '^ 
 
 "I want them not! I will not take them!" eja- 
 culated Giulio : and he somewhat violently re- 
 pelled the hand that was stretched out towards 
 him. 
 
 The effect was to make Edgar Marcellin drop 
 the golden coins which he held in bis hand ; and 
 the proceeding on Giulio's part filled the French- 
 man with amazement and anger. 
 
 "What!" he ejaculated; "alow-born menial 
 behave thus to a gentleman !"— and in his rage h» 
 struck Giulio a violent blow across the cheek with 
 his riding-whip. 
 
 Smarting with pain, the young page dealt th» 
 irritable Frenchman two or three severe strokes 
 in quick succession with his own whip ; and Mar- 
 cellin vociferated, "Be quiet! I cannot fight with 
 a lacquey !" 
 
 " Now, Signor," said Giulio, " let us separate. 
 We have been long enough together — too long in- 
 deed ! — and the next time we meet I trust that 
 even though I be no more than a page, you will 
 treat me with the civility and respect which one 
 man owes to another." 
 
 " By heaven, young fellow !" exclaimed Edgar 
 Marcellin, in a tone that vibrated with rage, " I 
 will be signally revenged for the blows you have 
 inflicted upon me !" 
 
 Having thus spoken, Edgar Marcellin galloped 
 away, rushing on madly through the mist as if it 
 were all as clear as day and there was not the 
 slightest danger to be incurred. He did not tarry 
 to alight and pick up the gold coins which had 
 fallen in the road: while Giulio treated them with 
 an equal degree of contempt. 
 
 The young page belonged to a very good family 
 which had become impoverished : he was born and 
 educated as a gentleman ; and thus he had his 
 strong feelings of pride, which perhaps indeed 
 were all the more sensitive when he was reminded I 
 of the humble grade of society that he now occu- j 
 pied. In his own heart he felt himself to be some- | 
 thing much higher than a mere page or menial — 
 for he was the lover of the Marchioness : and thus 
 doubly harrowing to his feelings was any taunt 
 thrown out against him on account of his state of 
 
 vitude. Not for worlds would he receive or 
 
 touch Edgar Marcellin'a gold ; and he now only 
 
 gretted that he had not been enabled to inflict a 
 
 much severer chastisement than he had bestowed 
 
 upon the French gentleman. 
 
 Giulio rode onward— hut at a cautious pace ; for 
 the density of the mist decreased not, and he was 
 not of the same reckless, daring, headstrong dispo- 
 sition as Edgar Marcellin. Besides, Giulio had no 
 faith in the superior sagacity of his own steed ; 
 and he chose not to incur any unnecessary peril, 
 while he knew that complete safety consisted in 
 advancing at a slow rate.
 
 318 AGHES; OB, BBAVIT AHD PLEASITBB. 
 
 More than half the distance had been accom- 
 plished— Giulio was still proceeding through the 
 mist, when be thought he beard the sounds of a 
 horse's feet a little wa; ahead. He listened— for 
 if it were an equipage that was approaching, be 
 was pn^pared to move completely over to the 
 
 experienced some accident. Therefore let ererj 
 inquiry be made and ercry search be instituted, ia 
 case circumstances should unfortunately seem to 
 justify apprehensions of the worst." 
 
 The domestic bowed and retired. In about ten 
 minutes the door of the apartment was again 
 
 side of the road so as to allow it to pass : opened, and M. Marcellin was announced, 
 but' he soon became convinced that it was a single crezia di Mirano rose from her seat to welcome 
 steed which was drawing near, and no vehicle of him in the politest manner possible : but she saw 
 any kind. In a few minutes the form of a horse, that there was something strange and excited in 
 man, mounted on the approaching animal, emerged j his manner, though he was as politely courteous 
 from the surrounding gloom and burst upon the | and as friendly as his demeanour was wont to 
 view of the youthful page. | be. 
 
 " Ah !" was the ejaculation which burst forth " My lady," he said, " I ought to commence by 
 from his lips : but the next instant there was the ' apologizing for paying a visit at this unseemly 
 report of a pistol— a wild cry thrilled from Giulio's , hour— barely half-past eleven in the forenoon," ho 
 tongue — and he fell from his steed, a corpse ! : continued, consulting his watch : " but there is 
 
 The assassin at onco turned and galloped away, more than one reason which has induced me thus 
 
 through the deep mist in the direction of Florence ; to intrude " 
 
 and the unfortunate page was thus left on the spot 1 " My dear M. Marcellin," interrupted Lucrezia, 
 
 'here he fell— so that it seemed as it the foul ] " do you call it an intrusion when you have re- 
 crime were to remain enveloped in a gloom as | ceived my free permission to visit this house at 
 deep as the mist which shrouded the scene itself ' any time?" 
 
 at the time ! i " True, my lady," said the young Frenchman ; 
 
 It was not until sunrise that this deep mist " I will not therefore waste time by proffering any 
 began to clear away from the Vale of Arno ; and excuse for my early visit now. Bo not startled, 
 thus for many long hours had it overspread the Sigoora, if with some degree of abruptness I pro- 
 spot where the foul murder was perpetrated. But claim that I am a man of honour ; because such 
 passing away from thence, we must return into the an assurance may best serve as a preface to what I 
 city of Florence and again speak of Lucrezia di have next to say." 
 
 Mirano. She rose at her usual hour in the morn- I " Such an assurance is altogether unnecessary 
 
 ing : she summoned her handmaidens — and when here," said the Marchioness di Mirano, with an air 
 
 they made their appearance, she inquired if Giulio of the supremest surprise ; " for if it were not 
 
 had returned from the villa ? known at the outset that you were a gentleman of 
 
 "No, mv lady," replied one of the damsels: the strictest honour and of the highest character, 
 
 " but report says that the mist has only begun to you would not have obtained an introduction 
 
 J clear away within the last hour or two— and that ; within the walls of the Mitano mansion." 
 
 ( is in the neighbourhood of Florence ; so that at a i "A man may be honourable in money-matters, 
 
 i distance of a few miles it may still be as dense as or in his dealings with the world in general," said 
 
 • ever." Edgar Marcellin : " but still it by no means fol- 
 
 I " True !" said Xuerezia. " He will return pre- lows that he should be honourable in those little 
 
 I eently, so soon as the mist shall have fully cleared private affairs and intercourses which are veiled 
 
 ' away. Let me know the instant he enters the from the general view. Now, I flatter myself that 
 
 house, because I expect him to be the bearer of I am an honourable man in these latter respects as 
 
 a note from my beloved friend the Signora Ci- well as in the former At least I strive to be 
 
 prina." so ; and of this I am about to give a proof." 
 
 An hour passed — Lucresia's toilet was performed " You really astonish mo by the seriousness and 
 —and she proceeded to the room where the morn- gravity with which you are speaking," exclaimed 
 ing repast was served up. She lingered, as was Lucrezia. " Do tell me, are you in earnest, M. 
 her custom, over the meal, which consisted of the Marcellin ? or is this some jest which you, 
 most exquisite little delicacies, various in their as- naturally gay, lively, and mirthfully inclined as 
 
 BOrtment, and of a light quality as best fitted for you are " 
 
 the first repast of the day : there were several let- " Signora, it is no jest !" interrupted Edgar 
 ters from friends and acquaintances to read— there "and I will at once come to the point. Perhaps 
 were newspapers and reviews to glance over. Thus there has been in my conduct something to lead 
 the time passed : it was now eleven in the fore- you to suppose that being smitten with your 
 noon ; and Giulio had not returned. The Mar- beauty, I was paying particular attentions— and 
 
 cbioness rang the bell and put the inquiry. indeed that I had already significantly " 
 
 " No, my lady," said the footman who answered ! "Oli ! I can assure you," interrupted the Mar 
 the summons. ' " Giulio has not come back ; but cbioness, " I attached not the slightest import 
 
 the mist has all cleared away some hours ago out ance " 
 
 of the Vale, as I have been assured by several per- I " And yet methought," said the young French 
 eons." ! man, " that you bent upon me encouraging looka 
 
 " This is strange !" said the Marchioness. "Let —that vou seemed But I dare not push mj 
 
 somebody proceed on horseback to the villa and explanations any further ! If I have indeed all 
 
 make inquiries. I- should scarcely think that Giulio along misinterpreted " 
 
 would have left last night when the mist came on: , " Oh ! XI. Marcellin," interrupted Lucrezia 
 but if he did, then the matter will become most ' with a certain degree of dig:nity and seriousness, 
 serious— for there can only be one conclusion to ; "you must indeed have misinterpreted my oon- 
 which we can arrive, and that is that he must have duct, it you suppose that it was influenced by
 
 ASKB3 ; OK, BEAUTY AND 
 
 3iy 
 
 any other motiTes than those of hospitality 
 and friendship towards you as a stranger in 
 Florence." 
 
 "Signora," said Mareellin, "I am glad to re- 
 ceive this assurance. Mj vanity had heen de- 
 ceiving me somewhat : I am glad that 1 am dis- 
 abused ! The explanation I have now to give is 
 fimple— and in all candour it must be given. It 
 is that there is another lady who has demanded my 
 fealty and my homage ; and I have consented to 
 wear the chains which her beauty has thrown 
 around my heart." 
 
 " I congratulate you, M. Mareellin," said 
 Lucrezia, with a smile which seemed most un- 
 seltishly amiable, " on having formed such a plea- 
 sant liaison : for I do not suppose that you are 
 alluding to matrimony ?" 
 
 " Heaven forbid !" ejaculated Edgar. " It is 
 one of these liaisons which are not altogether un- 
 known in French society, but which in Italy are 
 far more deliciously frequent." 
 
 " And pray might I ask," said tucrezia, " who 
 is the fair charmer " 
 
 " It was precisely because T intended to mate 
 the revelation," interjected Edgar, " that I pre- 
 faced it with so many apologies. Now, however, 
 that your ladyship has given me the assurance that 
 you beheld nothing serious in my little gallant 
 attentions, and that you yourself in reality meant 
 nothing when you seemed to encourage them, I 
 have all the less hesitation and difficulty in men- 
 tioning the name of the beautiful Ciprina." 
 
 "Indeed!" said the Marchioness. "Again do I 
 congratulate you on your success ; for she is the 
 most beautiful creature in Florence. But I must 
 congratulate her likewise on having achieved this 
 conquest over the brilliant M. Mareellin !" 
 
 The Frenchman bowed ; and then proceeded to 
 say, " But there is another point on which I came 
 to speak to your ladyship :"— and now Edgar's 
 countenance again grew excited and troubled. 
 
 " I see, M. Mareellin," said the Marchioness, 
 
 " that this second topic, whatever it be, is far less 
 
 pleasurable than the former one. Has anything 
 
 distressed you r^" 
 
 I " What would your ladyship think if I were to 
 
 } tell you that a base hound of a page — a valet— a 
 
 ! lacquey— or whatever be may be^has laid his 
 
 j hands upon me ! Or not exactly his hands— but 
 
 worse! — his riding-whip I" 
 I "Indeed, M. Mareellin!" cried Lucrezia, with 
 an air of the most unfeigned surprise : " is this 
 possible ? has such a thing happened ?" 
 
 " It has happened, Signora ! by heaven it has !" 
 exclaimed Edgar, vehemently. " Believe me when 
 I tell you that I am no more deficient in courage 
 than any other individual bearing the name of 
 Frenchman ; and you know that the French have 
 not often been reproached either individually or 
 nationally for a lack of courage. Well then, 
 Signora, it I had been so insulted by an equal— by 
 one in whose veins rolls gentle blood — I would 
 have challenged him ! — with pistol or with sword 
 would we have met !— and the two should not have 
 quitted the field alive ! But it is now different. 
 It is a vile page who has done this ! — and the only 
 means by which he can be chastised, is by igno- 
 minious expulsion from the house in which bis 
 menial services are given." 
 
 " Am I to infer from all this," said the Mar- 
 
 chioness, " that it is a domestic of mine who has 
 behaved in so infamous a manqer ?" 
 
 " Tes— a domestic of your ladyship's," replied 
 Edgar. 
 
 " Then rest assured, M. Mareellin, that not 
 merely shall he be dismissed from my service, but 
 that measures shall be taken, if you will, to chastise 
 him with imprisonment. But, who is he. Can 
 you name the offender, or point him out ?" 
 
 " His name is Giulio, my lady," rejoined Mar- 
 eellin - 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Lucrezia : " Giulio to have 
 done this ? No, no ! it is scarcely possible ! He 
 
 has ever been a good, docile, inoffensive lad 
 
 But when did this happen ?" 
 
 "Last night, Signora," proceeded Mareellin. 
 " To confess the truth, I was at your villa— I passed 
 the day there with Ciprina : in the evening Giulio 
 came, the bearer of a kindly written note from 
 yourself to Ciprina. She showed it to me : it ex- 
 pressed the hope that she was well and comfort- 
 able, and that she had all that she required at the 
 
 " True," said the Marchioness : " it was in this 
 sense that I wrote to her." 
 
 " She sent her affectionate regards, accompanied 
 by a promise to write to you to-day if she did not 
 see you. Then Giulio," continued Mareellin, " took 
 his departure " 
 
 " What ! last night P" exclaimed the Mar- 
 chioness. 
 
 "Yes, to be sure!" replied Edgar. "lam 
 speaking of last night !" 
 
 " Last night ?" repeated Lucrezia. " Giulio set 
 out, you say, to return to Florence last night ?" 
 
 " Most assuredly ! I overtook him on the road- 
 he was riding with a timidity at which I was 
 astonished " 
 
 " Perhaps the mist was dense ?" said the Mar- 
 chioness. 
 
 " So thick," rejoined Edgar, " that you could 
 not see half-a-dozen feet in front of you. Well, I 
 overtook Giulio, as I say ; I exchanged a few words 
 with him. It suited me to make him a present; 
 I offered him some eight or ten pieces of gold— he 
 scorned and despised my bounty — his conduct was 
 most outrageous ! He even dashed the gold from 
 my hand !" 
 
 "Yes, this was indeed monstrous," exclaimed 
 the Marchioness. " But pray continue ; for we 
 have been very uneasy " 
 
 " To tell the truth," continued Edgar Mar- 
 cellin, speaking in a rapid and excited tone, " I 
 struck the youth with my whip, for his conduct 
 was most insulting : and then he hit me in return." 
 
 " Ah ! then you admit, M. Mareellin," said Lu- 
 crezia, " that you were the aggressor?" 
 
 "Aggressor indeed!" ejaculated Edgar, with a 
 look and tone of contempt. " Who ever styled a 
 gentleman an aggressor when chastising the inso- 
 lence of a plebeian ?" 
 
 "Oh! but you must be informed," said the 
 Marchioness, " that Giulio was well bom and 
 bred " 
 
 " I found him a menial— and I treated him ai 
 such," interrupted Mareellin. 
 
 " But how did it end f" demanded Lucreiia ; 
 " for I begin to be frightened " 
 
 " There is nothing to be frightened at, my lady," 
 exclaimed Edgar. " If I had chosen to use brute
 
 390 
 
 )B, BBAUTT AHD PIBASPEB. 
 
 force, I could do doubt have vanquiibed tbo youth 
 in a momeDt and have broken bis own riding-wbip 
 M well as m; own about his ears. But I forbore 
 from placing myself farther in contact with his 
 plebeian skin ; and " 
 
 " And what, M. Marcellin ?" cried the Mar. 
 chionesB ; " for Giulio has not returned— already 
 were we under the most serious apprehenFioi 
 But now— but now, they are increased— they 
 of a different character " 
 
 "Pshaw!" ejaculated Marcellin, with a laugh 
 which at the moment seemed more brutal than 
 merry : " do you suppose I mur " 
 
 At that very instant the door burst open, and a 
 footman rushed in, exclaiming, " Oh, my lady 
 Giulio is murdered !" 
 
 " Murdered ?'* — and as she thus echoed the fear- 
 ful word, a terrific scream burst from Lucrezia di 
 Mirano's lips. 
 
 " Murdered !" repeated Edgar Marcellin, with a 
 sudden start : and becoming pale as death, he 
 in the seat from which he had sprung up at the 
 eudden opening of the door. 
 
 The greatest excitement prevailed in the Mi 
 mansion. The domestic who had rushed into the 
 room to communicate the awful tidings to the Mar- 
 chioness, was the one who had set out on horseback, 
 in pursuance of her ladyship's mandates, in order 
 to institute inquiries concerning the absent one. 
 In the ante-room of the apartment into which the 
 man had now burst, a posse of the servants were 
 gathered, having followed him thither. Some of 
 iiucrezia's maids, perceiving that their mistress 
 was about to faint — or at least fancying such 
 might be the catastrophe — now made their appear- 
 ance ; and Lucrezia accompanied them from the 
 apartment. In the ante-room she obtained a bottle 
 of volatile essence, which she applied to her nos- 
 trils ; and this appeared to revive her. She then 
 demanded explanations relative to the frightful in- 
 telligence that had been communicated to her. 
 These were soon given. The domestic who had 
 aet out on horseback, had scarcely left the suburbs 
 of Florence behind, when he met a peasant with 
 whom ho was acquainted ; and stopping to con- 
 Terse with the man, he learned something which 
 speedily gave a fearful interest to the discourse. 
 The peasant reported that soon after sunrise, when 
 the mist began to clear off, a dead body had been 
 found by the roadside about three miles from 
 Florence. It was that of a genteel-looking youth 
 in plain clothes ; and as there were no papers about 
 his person to identify him, he was conveyed to a 
 neighbouring cottage until the authorities in Flo- 
 rence could be communicated with. He was be- 
 yond the reach of medical aid, having been shot 
 through the heart, so that his death must have 
 proved almost instantaneous. The authorities had 
 sent and fetched the body into the city ; and 
 thither it had been transported just before Lu- 
 crezia's domestic learnt all these particulars from 
 the peasant. Breading from the description that 
 it was the unfortunate Giulio who had thus met 
 an untimely and mysterious death, the domestic 
 turned his horse's head and proceeded to the dead- 
 house of the hospital, to which the corpse bad been | 
 removed. There his worst fears were realized : it 
 was indeed the body of Giulio ! 
 
 Such were the explanations which the Mar- 
 Mirano now received; and they ap- 1 
 
 peared to produce a most powerful effect upon her. 
 At length, seeming to recover her self-possearion, 
 she ordered some of her domestics to hasten and 
 fetch the corpse from the hospital dead-house to 
 her own mansion, so that it might receive suitable 
 burial. Having issued this mandate, she returned 
 into the apartment where she had left Edgar Mar- 
 cellin. closing the door behind her, she walked 
 straight up to him ; and with pale face and rigid 
 features, she said in a deep concentrated voice, 
 " Giulio has been foully murdered !" 
 
 Edgar Marcellin was sitting at the time with 
 an air of semi-stupefaction in the same seat where 
 he was when the Marchioness left the room : he 
 now started up, exclaiming, " Yes — unfortunate 
 youth ! I heard the terrific announcement that he 
 
 was murdered! But my God! you do not 
 
 No ! no ! you cannot suspect " 
 
 " Edgar Marcellin," said Lucrezia emphatically, 
 and with even an expression of fierceness in her 
 countenance, " you stand in a position which is 
 awful to contemplate " 
 
 " Signora," interrupted the young Frenchman, 
 with a look which be suddenly appeared to be 
 seeking to render as calm as possible, " I am inno- 
 cent of this horrible crime ! Good God ! I am as 
 incapable of it as you yourself are !" 
 
 " I hope, M. Marcellin," said Lucrezia, with an 
 air so severe and cold as fully to imply that she 
 did not believe this averment of innocence, " that 
 you will be enabled to make all this good in the 
 presence of tho magistrate, before whom you will 
 assuredly have to appear. For alas ! I regret thmt 
 you should have told me the tale of your quarrel 
 with my page; it will compel me also to appear- 
 and nothing can be more unpleasant " 
 
 "Good God, Signora!" cried Edgar Marcellin; 
 " you do not invest my comparatively trumpery 
 quarrel with your page with so tremendous an im- 
 portance ?" 
 
 " You yourself, M. Marcellin, invested it with 
 all that importance," said Lucrezia; "for you 
 came to me with an excited and troubled maa- 
 
 "Yes— but it was to make complaint that I } 
 came !" interjected Edgar, " not dreami 
 the unfortunate Giulio had ceased to exist 
 other motive could I have had?" 
 
 "I much fear," said the Marchionesa, " that • 
 judge would regard your 
 be nothing bi 
 suspicion " 
 
 " Oh, but all this is monstrous !" eiclaimsd 
 Edgar Marcellin, his cheeks flushing and his eyea 
 flashing. 
 
 Now listen to me!" said the Marchionesa, 
 speaking in a rapid and excited manner. " It 
 would be most painful for me to be compelled to 
 go forward to repeat the tale which you have told 
 me — it might lead to the exposure of everything 
 1 respect to yourself and Ciprina— her reputation 
 ould be ruined — mine would suffer, I being her 
 friend and she living with me ! All this would be 
 fearful! But still more fearful would it be for 
 you to be consigned to a dungeon — to undergo 
 the ordeal of trial — for whether guilty or innocent 
 this would inevitably be the case •" 
 
 " My God ! do you think so ?" murmured 
 Edgar, looking horror-stricken. 
 
 "Alas! alas! I am «ure of it!" rejoinsd Lu- 
 
 What 
 
 i— an endeavour to arort
 
 crezia, growing more and more agitated. " Ah 
 you know not what Italian justice is — wbat 
 Italian law is — what Florentine tribunals are ! 
 No ! and you know not what Florentine dun- 
 geons are !" 
 
 "Ob, but 1 am innocent!" murmured the 
 wretched young Frenchman : *' I am innocent ! 1 
 
 j could look the whole world in the face " 
 
 I " What ! when you more than half confessed 
 I to me that in your rage you would not touch bis 
 plebeian skin, but that you murdered him with a 
 pistol ?" 
 
 " My God ! I never said a word of all the latter 
 
 part of that sentence ! You have put it into my 
 
 mouth !" exclaimed Edgar wildly : " but you could 
 
 not — no, you would not go forward and declare 
 
 j that 1 said it ! You are mistaken ! I do not for 
 
 « moment mean that you wilfully misunderstand 
 
 j or misrepresent me ; but you are in error ! Oh, 
 
 ; SAlieve me, you are in errorl— and I beseech you 
 
 No. 41,— AojfES. 
 
 to think well of it; for 
 
 fell 
 
 is the life of 
 
 fhich may possibly be compro- 
 
 " And I," said the Marchioness, " am utterly 
 incapable of wilfully misrepresenting you: but 
 you did make such an admission! — and when my 
 servant burst into the room, you were confounded 
 and dismayed— your whole appearance testified to 
 your guilt !" 
 
 " No ! no !" — and Edgar shuddered yisibly with 
 excitement. 
 
 " Foolish and insensate man !'* responded the 
 Marchioness, " all circumstances are against you I 
 Kemain in Florence, and I must tell all I know : 
 my duty to society demands this much on my part! 
 But fly from Florence, and it will be useless for 
 me to make any revelation at all since it will lead 
 to naught ! Now, Edgar Marcellin, the alterna- 
 tives are before you, and you can choose! At all 
 events there is the door of tbia apartment— aol X
 
 322 
 
 AOBES; OB, BBAUTT AKD PLBASUBB. 
 
 presence : I can endure 
 
 command you to q 
 you no longer here 
 
 " I go, I go !" exclaimed Marcellin, fearfully 
 agitated. " But as there is a Gjd above us " 
 
 '* Enough !" interrupted Lucrezia, with a stern 
 dignity : " I am not your judge ! Depart, I say !" 
 — and she extended her arm towards the door. 
 
 " My brain is reeling — I know not what I do ! 
 Surely this is madness !"— and Edgar Marcellin 
 pressed his hand to his blow as he leant against 
 a chair for support. 
 
 " Depart !" a^ain said Lucrezia di Mirano, in a 
 siern commanding tone: and again was her arm 
 extended towards the door. 
 
 A groan — a piteous groan burst from the lips of 
 Edgar Marcellin: he endeavoured to speak — he 
 could not : and opening the door, he rushed forth. 
 
 An hour afterwards it was generally known 
 throughout the fashionable circles of Florence, 
 that Edgar Marcellin had abruptly quitted the 
 capital. But this departure was in general by no 
 means connected with fche murder of the young 
 page; M, Marcellin had liberally and honourably 
 paid whatever liabilities he had contracted during 
 his short sojourn in Florence, and he was regarded 
 as a strictly honourable man. The Marchioness 
 kept the secret of what she knew or what she sus- 
 pected (whichever it really amounted to) — save in 
 reference to Ciprina, to whom in the strictest 
 confidence she communicated the circumstances 
 connected with Edgar Marceliin's departure in so 
 hurried a manner from the Tuscan metropolis. 
 
 CHAPIEE LIT. 
 
 WtaiBBED iJSD BODBSIOK. 
 
 The Italian episodes of our narrative have eX' 
 tended to a considerable length; and the last 
 incidents which we have recorded, bring us down 
 to the middle of February of the year 1819. It 
 is consequently more than two months, so far as 
 the progress of our tale is concerned, since the 
 attention of the reader was diverted from the 
 scenes occurring in the British metropolis ; — and 
 it is now therefore time that we should hasten back 
 thither with the least possible delay. 
 
 Contemporaneous with the events of the pre- 
 ceding chapter are the scenes of which we are now 
 about to speak. It was, then, about the middle of 
 February, 1849 -in the forenoon of a day of in- 
 tense cold, with the snow upon the ground — that 
 Winifred Barrington was walking hastily along in 
 the neighbourhood of St. John's Wood. The 
 young maiden was apparelled with her usual sim- 
 plicity and neatness : she looked well in health— 
 and the expression of her countenance was indi- 
 cative of mental tranquillity. Upon her cheeks, 
 which were usually pale, now rested the glow of 
 rich carnation produced by the excitement of walk- 
 ing on that cold day, and through that crisp 
 bracing atmosphere; so that with this colour 
 Winifred looked better and more interesting than 
 usual. 
 
 She was proceeding in the direction of Sidney 
 Villa, when she beheld at a distance a form — a 
 well-known form — advancing along the road. Her 
 heart began to beat violently ; for the appearance 
 
 of that individual never failed to inspire strong 
 emotions in the bosom of Winifred Barrington. 
 This personage was Roderick Dalbaoi, whom we 
 have on a former occasion described to the reader 
 as being a man of about forty years of age— of 
 slim symmetrical figure— with a tolerably handsome 
 countenance— dark hair and whiskers— and large 
 piercing black eyes. We have also said that his 
 was a countenance the expression of which indi- 
 cated strong passions, capable of being impelled 
 to the extremity of either good or evil, according 
 to the influence of circumstances. But we should 
 add that although in the earlier part of his life he 
 had been dissipated, wild, and extravagant, yet 
 that of late he had changed into as completely an 
 opposite course of steadiness, regularity, and pro- 
 priety ; for there was much natural generosity in 
 the soul of Roderick Dalham, associated with the 
 strictest sense of honour— so that he was one of 
 those men who after having *-8own their wild oats," 
 as the phrase goes, often become the best and 
 worthiest members of society. 
 
 On beholding Mr- Dalham at a distance, Wini- 
 fred Barrington stopped short : the colour for an 
 instant quitted her cheeks- but the next moment 
 it returned with even a deeper carnation vividness 
 than before ; and she continued her way slowly at 
 first— and then at a quickened pace — for tho 
 thought suddenly struck her that she mutt not 
 show herself an ungrateful laggard in greeting the 
 generous benefactor to whom she was indebted for 
 the salvation of her life from the hangman's clutch. 
 Therefore, with this thought in her mind, Winifred 
 now sped forward : Roderick Dalham came on with 
 even still greater speed to meet her ; and it waaall 
 breathless with her haste and with excitaii.ent that 
 the young maiden encountered the gentleman. 
 The colour was now of the deepest camatioa on 
 her cheeks ; her moist red lips were apart as she 
 gasped for breath, and they revealed a set of the 
 meat beautiful teeth ; her large blue eyee were 
 bright with animation ; and a stray light brown 
 coming over her forehead, was put back by the 
 beautiful band which she had ungloved in order 
 she might with the more grateful courtesy 
 bestow it upon the benefactor whom she was has- 
 tening forward to meet. Thus, never in Ki>derick 
 Dalham's estimation had Winifred appeared so 
 teresting. Handsome she was not— neither was 
 she beautiful : but most interesting she assuredly 
 was— while her figure, with its softly rounded con- 
 tours, was symmetry itself. 
 
 Winifred," said Mr. Dalham, 'Mt is thus by 
 accident we meet 1" — and it was with considerable 
 embarrassment of manner that he thus spoke — 
 a certain constraint of look likewise— and 
 even with a tremulousness of accent ; though there 
 as warmth, and even fervour, in the pressure 
 hich he bestowed upon the small beautiful white 
 hand that lingered in the clasp of his own. 
 
 Tes, Mr. Dalham," said Winifred : " I cer- 
 tainly did not expect- 1 mean I did not think it 
 
 all likely " 
 
 " And perhaps you did not wish io see me, 
 inifred ?" interjected Roderick Dalham, half 
 proachfully, half deprecatingly : "you have per- 
 haps been offended with me " 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Dalham ! how can you entertain such 
 
 idea ?" cried Winifred, distressed by that which 
 
 struck her as an accusation of ingratitude. " You
 
 AQNE3 ; OH, BKACTT 
 
 PLEAS0BB. 
 
 3S3 
 
 mast IcDOff bow deeplj t am sensible of the immeDse 
 
 ubligatioDS " 
 
 "Yes, Winifred," said Roderick Dalham, gaaing 
 upon Uer couotenance with that scarcely explicable 
 degree of interest whicb has both sadness and 
 pleasure mingled with its admiration. " know 
 that jou possess a gratelul heart : but still, Wini- 
 fred, ;ou must have thought m; last proceeding so 
 very, very strange towards you— your pride may 
 have been wounded— your feelings may have been 
 
 " Ob, my pride !" exclaimed Winifred : " what 
 pride have I that can be wounded? — and as for 
 my feelings, what feelings do I possess which have 
 not already been dragged through the most scath- 
 ing, withering, crushing ordeal ?" 
 
 " There, Winifred ! you are offended with mo !" 
 exclaimed Eoderick Dalham, looking distressed. 
 " Tou speak with exceeding bitterness ; and it cuts 
 me to the very soul to hear this language flow from 
 your lips— or to behold those lips wreath otherwise 
 than in sweet smiles!'* 
 
 "OU, ilr. Dalham!" cried Winifred, with a 
 countenance which denoted a distress that was 
 even far more poignant than his own ; " pardon 
 me— forgive me— I beseech you !" and she clasped 
 her hands entreatingly. " What ! I have spoken 
 bitterly to gou ! — to you, my dearest and best 
 friend ! Oh ! God forgive me for so much wicked- 
 She sobbed audibly : she seemed as if she should 
 sink down overwhelmed by the sudden paroxysm 
 of grief which had seized upon her. 
 
 " Winifred, dearest girl— for heaven's sake com- 
 pose yourself," said Eoderick Dalham, taking both 
 her hands and pressing them in his own : " I did not 
 wish to accuse you — I did not mean it '. No, no, 
 my sweet girl ! I know how terribly you have been 
 tried in so many, many different ways " 
 
 " .ind you do not believe, Mr. Dalham," said 
 Winifred, looking up earnestly and entreatingly 
 into his countenance, while the heaven of her eyes 
 was seen through the shower of her weeping,— 
 " and you do not believe that I am capable of in. 
 gratitude towards you ?" 
 
 " S. would sooner believe in the veriest impossi- 
 bility," replied Eoderick Dalham, with the strongest 
 emphasis, " than entertain such an opinion of you, 
 dear Winifred ! You know that I love you," he 
 went on to say, as his voice sank to a lower and more 
 tender tone: "yes— you know that I love you— 
 joj know that the feeling of interest which I first 
 experienced in your behalf gradually deepened 
 into a sentiment of tenderness, — and by heaven, 
 Winifred 1 though upwards of two long months 
 have elapsed since last I saw you— and though 
 during this time 1 have not sought you, but rather 
 on the contrary have avoided the chance of en. 
 countering you, — yet has my love deepened, and 
 during that interval your image has become all 
 the more profoundly impressed upon my mind. 
 Bat Oh ! I ought not to bo speaking thus !— for it 
 was in order to avoid such a scene as this that I 
 have for upwards of two months kept myself as if 
 utterly estranged !" 
 
 "And I, Mr. Dalham," murmured Winifred, 
 with eyes bashfully downcast, "should havo thought 
 that you were offended with me for some reason 
 or tnother— only that every now and then I learnt 
 from Mr. Wardour that you had called at Uis 
 
 office to make inquiries concerning me— that, as 
 usual, you had spoken in the kindest and most 
 
 friendly terms and therefore, Mr. Dalham— 
 
 therefore I knew— or at least I thought and flat- 
 tered myself," proceeded Winifred falteringly and 
 hesitatingly, " that you could not be offended with 
 
 '■ Offended with you, Winifred ? Good heavens ! 
 bow was this possible ?" exclaimed Eoderick Dal- 
 ham. "' If any offence wero to be taken, it was 
 !/ou who had so much reason to be offended with 
 
 " Never, never !" cried Winifred emphatically. 
 " I knew that you must have had some good reason 
 for not keeping the appointment which I gave 
 you," she continueil ; " and that was sudicient for 
 me. But even if I had thought— which was indeed 
 impossible— but even if I lutd thought, I say, that 
 you were at all slighting me at the time, I could 
 not have been offended. Good heavens, no!— for 
 ever present in my mind is the immensity of the 
 good which you have done me !" 
 
 " Generous girl that jou are thus to speak !" 
 exclaimed Dalham, taking her hand and pressing 
 it with effusion. " But I owe you some little ex- 
 planation—and I beseech you to let me give it." 
 
 " Not unless you think fit, Mr. Dalham," an. 
 swered Winifred ; " for where no offence has been 
 taken, no explanation neoj be given. And do you 
 for a moment think that I should seek to exact 
 any explanation from your lips when all your con- 
 duct towards me has been so noble and so mag- 
 nanimous in great things, that it were impossible 
 to prove otherwise in small things !" 
 
 " Still let me give you this explanation, Wini. 
 fred," said Mr. Dalham. " Take my arm- we 
 will walk slowly onward, for we may be observed 
 standing here together, and it would seem strange 
 that we should linger so long in conversation on a 
 day of such bitter inclemency as this." 
 
 The young maiden took Ejderick Dalham'a 
 arm ; and they walked aljpwly along together^ 
 There was a silence for two or three minutes : 
 but it was at length broken by the gentleman 
 himself. 
 
 '■ Excuse me, Winifred," he said, " if in what I 
 am about to say there may be some slight refer- 
 ence to past incidents. It ia upwards of three 
 months, Winifred, since I called upon you at your 
 lodgings " 
 
 '■ Yes," she murmured : " it was on the sixth of 
 November— the day after the trial !" 
 
 " And on that day," resumed Eoderick Dalham, 
 " I offered you my hand — I declared that I loved 
 you— I proposed that we should wed in secret, so 
 that neither my father nor your grandsire should 
 become acquainted with this alliance. And you 
 refused! — and at the same time you confessed that 
 you loved your coasin Gustavus." 
 
 Winifred heaved a profound sigh ; and as she 
 leant upon Mr. Dalham's arm, ho felt her bosom 
 swell against it with that convulsing emotion. 
 
 "Pardon me, Winifred," he hastened to say, 
 "for alluding to things that are calculated to excite 
 aflliction and distress " 
 
 ' On this score, Mr. Dalham," interrupted 
 Winifred, * I require not your sympathy — I need 
 it not— Oh! believe me, I need it not! If the 
 nam* ot Gustavus excite an emotion within 
 me, it is not because I am afflioted on my own
 
 R'i% 
 
 XOSTS; OS, BEAUTY AHP FLBASDBB. 
 
 •ccount ; but it is because I tremble with appre. 
 hension lest his happiness should have been com- 
 promised by wedding her — that quadroon lady — 
 who came across the seas to seek him " 
 
 " But in reference to yourself, Winifred," said 
 Mr. Dalbam, " do you not feel that you still love 
 your cousin Gustavus ?" 
 
 **' Yes, as a cousin," she responded ; " or as a 
 sister might love a brother : but — but" — she hesi- 
 tated for a moment, and then she added with firm- 
 ness, " But all other love has ceased to exist within 
 me towards Gustavus Barrington!" 
 
 " Winifred, is this possible ?" exclaimed Eoderick 
 Dalham, in a tone which thrilled with joy. 
 
 " It is true, sir," answered Winifred. " I think 
 you know me well enough to be convinced that I 
 am incapable of falsehood ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, Winifred— I know that you are in- 
 capable of all deceit ! — and the natural frankness 
 of your character constitutes not the least of those 
 good qualities which have charmed me. But let 
 me continue my own explanation. 1 have said 
 that it was on the sixth of November — — " 
 
 " The day after the trial," added Winifred softly, 
 " when you saved my life !" 
 
 " It was on the sixth of November," continued 
 Dalham hastily, " that I offered you my hand, and 
 you refused me. Precisely one month afterwards 
 —it was the sixth of December, Winifred— Oh, 
 I remember it well! — I met you in Aldersgati 
 Street. We walked arm-inarm together, as we an 
 walking now; and I again asked you to accom 
 pany me secretly to the altar. I besought you to 
 become my wife in all honour though in privacy ! 
 You did not refuse me then, Winifred," continued 
 Dalham; "but you asked for time to reflect upon 
 all I had told you. You asked for a day or an 
 hour : I bade you take a day or a week ;— and 
 then you said to me — and I remember that your 
 voice was low but firm, 'To-morrow at this time 
 my decision shall be made known. Meet me here !' 
 — It was thus you spoke." 
 
 "Yes," said Winifred : "I remember full well 
 it was in those terms that 1 spoke. And — and 
 Mr. Dalham, on the following day I aas there 
 — true to the appointment— on that very spot 
 where we had parted !" 
 
 " And I was not there, Winifred," exclaimed 
 Dalham; "and 1 am about to tell you why I was 
 not there ! Ob, you have already assured me that 
 you did not regard it as a slight nor as an out- 
 rage — that you did not take ofi'enee thereat — but 
 on the contrary that you knew there must be 
 some good reason for what I did:— and you were 
 right, Winifred ! Yes, I had a good reason ! 
 listen with attention. If I had met you on the 
 following day, you would have made known your 
 decision. If that decision were to be a negative, 
 I knew that it would pain you infinitely to give 
 it ; and therefore I was anxious to save you that 
 affliction. But if on the other hand it was an 
 afiirmative which you were prepared to proclaim, 
 then I thought to myself that it would only be 
 the generous sacrifice of your feelings to a sense 
 of gratitude. I remembered that you had told 
 me how I bad saved your life, and that therefore 
 you were ready to lay down that life for my sake; 
 and I thought that even that very assurance itself 
 conveyed a species of prayer that I would use my 
 power generously and magnanimously. But this 
 
 was not all, Winifred. Do you recollect the dis- 
 course which we held together on that last occa- 
 sion when we met— that 6th of December, which 
 date seems to have been so strongly impressed 
 upon the memory of us both ? I told you that I 
 had only very recently obtained an insight into 
 my father's affairs, and I had discovered that if 
 by the law's decree he should be compelled to sur- 
 render up the estates which be had so long en- 
 joyed, ruin would stare him in the face— which 
 ruin, as a natural consequence, would redound 
 upon me! Do you remember, Winifred, that I 
 told you all this ?" 
 
 " Good heavens, Mr. Dalham !" she murmured, 
 shuddering perceptibly with her feelings of aOiic- 
 tion, " is it possible I could have forgotten any- 
 thing which so nearly concerns yourself? No, no ! 
 I have never ceased to think of it ; and when at 
 the time " 
 
 " Listen to nie, Winifred," interrupted Dalham, 
 "and hear me to the end. When I told you of 
 this discovery which I had made of my father'a 
 perilous circumstances and uncertain fortunes, 1 
 used it as an argument to induce you to bestow 
 your hand upon me. I knew that the lawsuit 
 must speedily be decided : I therefore laid to you, 
 * If it result in my father's favour, you will in due 
 time be enriched through me, should I become 
 your husband : but if on the other hand it result 
 in your grandfather's favour, I shall continue rich 
 through you, if you become my wife.'— It was 
 thus that I spoke to you ; and it was then that 
 you told me your decision should be given on the 
 morrow. But when we separated I thought to 
 myself that my conduct had not been just or 
 generous towards you. I said lo myself, ' I am 
 not dealing properly with Winifred ; I am en- 
 deavouring to coerce her into an alliance with me. 
 I know the gratitude of her heart ; and I am ap- 
 pealing strongly unto it. Circumstances have 
 given me a power and an infiuence over her; and 
 I am using that power ungenerously — I am ex- 
 erting that influence selfishly. If I meet her to- 
 morrow to hear her decision, and if she say yo, it 
 will pain her infinitely to breathe that word from 
 her lips : and if on the other hand she say Te>, 
 'twill be a syllable spoken with the sense of self- 
 sacrifice and self-martyrdom.' — Therefore, Wini- 
 fred, I did not keep the appointment. God knows 
 how it pained me to forego the chance of happi- 
 ness which perhaps might have been within my 
 reach: but yet I was resolved to perform the more 
 generous part— I would not coerce you into an 
 
 There was silence for nearly a minute— for 
 Winifred knew not what answer to make to these 
 explanations which she had just received: she 
 knew not indeed whether they were intended 
 as a final settlement of the entire question to 
 which they alluded, or whether that question being 
 altogether reopened, might necessarily and natu- 
 rally elicit comment from her tongue. 
 
 " I was swayed likewise by other considerations 
 in the course which I then adopted,'" at length re. 
 sumed Eoderick Dalham. " I said to myself. 
 Perhaps Winifred will think that I am now in- 
 [uenced by selfish motives : she may suppose that 
 as the result of the lawsuit may possibly beggar 
 my father, I am seeking to take care of myself 
 by marrying into the very family to whose hands
 
 AOHES; OE, BBACTT AKD PLBASOKB. 
 
 325 
 
 the estates may probably pass.'— And then too I 
 met Mr. 'VTardour, and he told me that he had 
 that very day lodged in your name in the Bank of 
 England the sum of fourteen thousand fire hun- 
 dred pounds, the produce of the sale of the gold 
 dust; so that you were rich, Winifred !— and this 
 was another reason which led me to beware how I 
 acted a part which might incur eren the slightest 
 chance of seeming selfish and egotistical. I do 
 not know, AVinifred, whether I have rendered my 
 explanations sufficiently clear — whether you, my 
 dear young friend, can appreciate all those little 
 details of feeling which I have endeavoured to 
 describe " 
 
 " Mr. Dalham," said Winifred, in a low voice, 
 which was however of silvery clearness — and her 
 bead was bent down so that her cheek rested upon 
 the hand which lay on his arm, — " if anything 
 had been wanting to convince me of the magna, 
 nimity of your disposition, it would now be sup- 
 plied by the explanations you have given me ! 
 Ever thoughtful and considerate with regard to 
 my interests have you been ! — what delicacy has 
 mingled with the generosity of your conduct ! 
 But I can say no more ! Do you, Mr. Dalham— 
 do you," she tremulously asked, " wish to say any. 
 thing more to me ?" 
 
 " Winifred, if I dared— Oh ! if I dared," he 
 exclaimed ."But no ! the same motives as be- 
 
 " Mr. Dalham," she ioterjected, " listen to me 
 — and grant me a boon, I bese«ch you !" 
 
 "Anything, Winifred! — everything!" cried 
 Roderick enthusiastically. "You once told me 
 that you would lay down your life for my sake ; 
 and that was in the truthful fervour of the noblest 
 gratitude ! Believe me, Winifred, it is in no idle 
 spirit of romance that I also proclaim my readi- 
 ness to lay down my life for your sake! And 
 now speak ! — what favour can you require of me ? 
 what can I possibly do to serve you ?" 
 
 " Let us separate now," said Winifred : " let 
 us separate without the interchange of another 
 word except that of Farewell: — but let this sepa. 
 ration be short ! Let us meet again on the third 
 day hence — at this very hoar — but let it be in 
 Aldersgate Street, at my own lodgings. Do you 
 agree? will you consent? — and Oh! will you 
 pardon me if in this particular instance I may 
 seem for a moment to assume a spirit of dicta- 
 tion ?" 
 
 " Yes, Winifred — you shall dictate to me !" an- 
 swered Roderick Dalham ; "and so far from offend- 
 ing me by such dictation, it shall by me be re- 
 garded as a proof of the friendship you entertain 
 for me— the confidence you place in me— and the 
 frankness of that intimacy which exists between 
 us. You ask me, Winifred, whether 1 will do 
 your bidding in a certain respect ?— and I answer 
 Yes. Therefore, my young friend, precisely at 
 the hour of noon, on the 17th instant, will I be 
 with you at your abode in Aldersgate Street : and 
 now in obedience to your other injunction 1 simplv 
 add the word Furewell !" 
 
 Roderick Dalham pressed Winifred's hand to his 
 lips; and then hurried away in one direction, 
 while the damsel continued her own path towards 
 Sidney Villa. H>r summons at the front door 
 was answered by the kind-hearted Rachel, who 
 was a'.ways glad to see Miss Barrington ; and in 
 
 to the inquiry whether Miss Evelyn was 
 at home, an affirmative was given. Winifred was 
 conducted into the little boudoir, where Agnes put- 
 ting aside her embroidery, rose to give her a cor- 
 dial greeting. The beautiful Miss Evelyn was 
 looking exceedingly well ; and us usual, the cos- 
 tume that she wore was characterized by a tasteful 
 simplicity which was elegance itself- Her hair, 
 of auburn, or light burnished gold, was floating in 
 ringlets upon her beautifully sculptured shoulders; 
 and her large blue eyes, habitually soft in thsir es- 
 pression almost to melancholy, beamed sentiments 
 of the kindest interest and friendship as she prof- 
 fered her hand to Winifred Barrington. 
 
 " Pray be seated," said the amiable Agnes. 
 " Come as near the dre as possible ; the weather is 
 bitterly cold — the snow is again falling ! Are your 
 feet wet ?" 
 
 " No, Miss Evelyn," replied Winifred. " I rode 
 from the City as far as the Regent's Park ; and 
 then the distance was but short to your dwell- 
 ing." 
 
 "And now tell me. Miss Barrington, how dc 
 all the affairs progress ? It is a fortnight since 
 I last saw you ; and then you were in great 
 hopes of bringing matters to a speedy settlement 
 so far as your venerable grandsire'a incarceration 
 is concerned. Tell me, then— for you know the 
 deep interest I experience in all that concerns you, 
 —tell me, is there a chance of that hope being 
 speedily realized ?" 
 
 "I believe so. Miss Evelyn — I think so — God 
 grant that it may be so!" exclaimed Winifred, 
 speaking the last words with passionate utterance, 
 
 "There is but one impediment and to be brief, 
 
 it is to consult you, Miss Evelyn— or rather to in. 
 voke your kind aid— that I am now here !" 
 
 "My aid?" exclaimed Agnes. "Oh! you know, 
 Miss Barrington, that if it be indeed possible for 
 me to render you any assistance, I shall do so with 
 the utmost willingness !" 
 
 " I knew that I should not appeal to yoa in 
 vain," rejoined Winifred. " Will you grant me 
 your patience while I give you some little expla- 
 nations ? — and will you also forgive mo, my dear 
 Miss Evelyn, if I am compelled to make certain 
 little allusions to a deceased relative of your's ?" 
 
 " Whom do you mean ?" asked Agnes. " But 
 methinks I understand ! You must doubtless 
 mep.n my grandfather Mr. Waldron, who was for 
 a while yoitr grandfather's solicitor ?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Evelyn," responded Winifred: "I 
 allude to Mr. Waldron. I regret to say that the 
 investigation which has during the last two or 
 three months been instituted into my unfortunate 
 
 grandfather's affairs But I am sure that you 
 
 will forgive me for what I am about to say, because 
 so far from being capable of wilfully " 
 
 " Ob, Miss Barrington !" exclaimed Agnes, 
 " such an assurance is quite unnecessary from your 
 lips ! Proceed — speak frankly and candidly : you 
 cannot give me offence, although perhaps you may 
 iistress me if I should be compelled to iist-ea to 
 aught derogatory to the repute and character of 
 my deceased grandfather, Mr. Waldron ! Yet pro- 
 ceed, Miss Barrington — proceed ! I am already 
 prepared to bear that my grandfather dealt not 
 altogether correctly with your grandsire." 
 
 "Alas, such was the case. Miss Evelyn!" re- 
 joined Winifred. " You know that some time
 
 A0HS3; OB, BBACTT . 
 
 TUiARUItn. 
 
 bick m; grandfather's affairs vere taken out of 
 the hands of Mr. Xiiuperlej ; and under the aus- 
 pices of Mr. Wardour, were placed in those of 
 the eminent 6rui of Cartnright and Co." 
 
 " Yes— you told me of these facts," said Agnes, 
 — " and likewise of the handsome sum of between 
 fourteen and fifteen thousand pounds vhich you 
 had lodged in the Bank of England to be in readi- 
 ness at any moment to effect your grandfather's 
 emancipation." 
 
 " And I have alao at different times told you, 
 Miss Evelyn," said Winifred, " that the Chancery 
 suit of ' Barrington versus DalUm ' has lasted 
 longer than my gran father's imprisonment, and 
 that it was not always very clear whether the 
 latter had been actually brought about by the for- 
 mer. Now mark!— for upwards of thirty years 
 has that lawsuit lasted : fur upwards of fiveand- 
 twenty years has my grandfather been a captive 
 in Whitecross Street Prison ! The truth is. Miss 
 Evelyn, that by dint of the most searching and 
 laborious investigations conducted by Mr. War- 
 dour and Mr. Cartvrright, it has transpired that 
 a network of difficulties and embaraasments, chica- 
 neries— and— aod— excuse me, dear Mies Evelyn— 
 but Mr. Wardour and Mr. Cartwnght make use 
 «f a very strong term— something worse than du- 
 plicities " , 
 
 " Speak it freely," said Agnes. " In a matter of i 
 this kind there must be no hesitation. Perhaps— [ 
 perhaps— those legal gentlemen say wickednesses— , 
 knaveries— or villanies " 
 
 " Well, Miss Evelyn, it is some harsh term of 
 the kind," eaiii Winifred, generously anxious to 
 •Toid the necessity of becoming more explicit. | 
 
 " And that network of wickednesses," said ■ 
 Agnes, in a voice trembling with emotion, — " was j 
 it really commenced by my grandfather? Ah! 
 your looks tell me that it was !— and Ob, I am | 
 deeply distressed 1" ; 
 
 The tears were trickling down the cheeks of the 
 amiable Agnes : Winifred could not endure the 
 spectacle— she sprang forward — she threw her 
 arms round the neck of our heroine, eiclaiming, 
 " Weep not, Miss Evelyn I Good heavens ! You , 
 have no reason either to distress or blame yourself : 
 for God knows that you are innocent of wrong- 
 doing or offence against every living creature ! , 
 Besides, my dear Miss Evelyn, for whatsoever 
 amount of injury your grandfather may have in- 
 flicted on my family, there has been the amplest 
 I atonement in all the goodness and kindness which 
 you have testified towards me !" i 
 
 " This is a most generous assurance on your 
 part. Miss Barrington," said Agnes, wiping away | 
 her tears; " and believe me — Ob, believe me, that 
 if there be now any way in which I can serve you, j 
 jou shall judge by my zeal whether in my own 
 person I am not anxious to make towards you 
 •very atonement for the misdeeds of a progenitor 
 of mine towards an aged relative of your's !" 
 
 " Suffer me to continue my explanations," said 
 Winifred; "and then you will comprehend, my 
 dear Miss Evelyn, how you will be enabled to 
 serve me. Tliirly years ago your grundsire Mr. 
 Waldrtu became auliciior to my grandfather, and 
 began to conduct tua memorable lawsuit against 
 Sir John Dalham. My grandfather's affairs be- 
 came embarrassed— not ou accuunt of the lawsuit 
 — but for other reasons— perhaps extravagance on 
 
 j his part being one of the principal causes. How 
 ever, such was the fact ; and he naturally con- 
 sulted his solicitor in respect to the means of ex- 
 tricating himself. Then Mr. Waldron, for soma 
 purpose relative to which we will not pause to 
 offer a conjecture, began to wind the toils of the 
 I law gradually and gradually around my unfor- 
 j tunate grandsire— aggravating difficulties instead 
 , of mitigating them— complicating all that waa 
 simple — and multiplying the sources of embarrasa- 
 i ment instead of diminishing them. It was the 
 same. Miss Evelyn, as if I were to take this reel 
 of cotton, which is so easy to unwind, and instead 
 of unwinding it at your bidding in a proper and 
 simple matter, were to wilfully and purposely en- 
 tangle it all in a skein of inextricable confusion. 
 Thus acted Mr. Waldron. The consequence was 
 that my grandfather was arrested and put into 
 gaol five-and-twenty years ago, all his property 
 being swept away under warrantsof-attorney, bills 
 
 of sale, executions In short. Miss Evelyn, I 
 
 cannot now recollect all the legal technicali- 
 ties " 
 
 " Alas 1" said Agnes, " apart from all that legal 
 verbiage, the fact is only too sternly patent to 
 your view, that your unfortunate grandsire was 
 sacrificed either by the ignorance or the wicked- 
 ness of mine !" 
 
 "Ohl Miss Evelyn," said Winifred, "there 
 seems to be no doubt— there is really no doubt," 
 she emphatically added, " that all this arose from 
 the wickedness and not from the ignorance of Mr. 
 Waldron. It was wickedness wilful and inten- 
 tional ! — indeed it has become only too clear that 
 my unfortunate grandfather was ruined by his 
 own solicitor. And then at Mr. Waldron's death, 
 Mr. Timperley became my grandfather's attorney ; 
 and he followed in the same course, perpetuating 
 the same work which his predecessor had so fatally 
 initiated — rendering the skein more complicated— 
 tightening the Gordiao knot of ditBculties ! And 
 this has been going on— Ibis fatal terrible work 
 for five-and-twenty years !— seven years, or there- 
 abouts, in the time of Mr. Waldron — and nearly 
 eighteen years with Mr. Timperley ! In short. 
 Miss Evelyn, my grandfather's attorneys, who 
 should have proved his best friends, have been hia 
 most deadly enemies ; for he has not merely been 
 detained in prison upon deeds that could never be 
 made good, or upon others which have ceased to 
 have effect, or upon others again which were easy of 
 settlement — but every manoeuvre has been adopted, 
 every chicanery put into force, every possible in- 
 trigue brought into requisition, to delay the pro- 
 gress of his lawsuit. Now, can you comprehend. 
 Miss Evelyn, how it is that Mr. Wardour and 
 Mr. Cartwright, in unravelling this complicated 
 skein, have discovered and pronounced it to be a 
 web of wickednesses— and— and " 
 
 " Villanies !" exclaimed Agnes indignantly ; 
 " for such indeed they are ! But tell me, my 
 dear Miss Barrington, how is it that your 
 grandfather never looked into his affairs — that he 
 never suspected he was thus rendered a victim and 
 a dupe by Ihuae who ought to have protected in- 
 stead of oppressed, and have sought to raise him 
 up rather than adopt measures to crush him more 
 effectually ?" 
 
 " Oh ! it would seem, from all that can now b* 
 possibly ascertained," replied Winifred, " that al
 
 i; OB, BBACTTY AND FLBA9CBS. 
 
 327 
 
 first my grandfather was reckless and indifferent 
 relative to his affairs, as well as ignorant and help- 
 less as a child in business-matters — dependent 
 likewise upon his attornevs not merely to conduct 
 the lawsuit, but also to afford him the means of 
 living :— then, as he grew older and began to look 
 into his affairs, he became infatuated in the confi- 
 dence which he put in Mr. Timperley ; — and thus 
 in one way or another, my dear Miss Evelyn, 
 he has from the first been rendered an easy dupe 
 to those who for their own purposes made him a 
 victim of their designs." 
 
 " Oh, this is indeed a dreadful tale to tell and to 
 listen to !" exclaimed Agnes, whose noble nature 
 waa shocked, and every generous chord in her 
 heart quivered and vibrated as she heard the nar- 
 rative and thought of the poor old man who had 
 suffered so terriVly. " But what purpose could 
 my grandsire or his successor Mr. Timperley have 
 to serve," inquired Agnes, "in the perpetration of 
 Buch dreadful wickedness as this p" 
 
 " One conjecture — and one conjecture only. 
 Miss Evelyn," rejoined Winifred, "can serve as 
 the solution of this mystery. It is that Sir John 
 Dulhsm's gold has proved the talisman " 
 
 " Ah, I comprehend !" said Agnes. " Sir 
 John Dalhain, being the defendant in that law- 
 
 " And knowing that his cause was bad," inter- 
 jected Winifred, — " certain that if it were left 
 to the common course of justice, it must utterly 
 fail, and that my grandfather's rights must be 
 made apparent,— Sir John Dilham had recourse 
 to all these vile and dreadful means to prolong 
 the suit— to keep my grandfather in prison — to 
 crush his spirit with delays— to break his heart 
 with disappointment ! Oh, Miss Evelyn ! it is a 
 frightful tale of iniquity which I am thus un. 
 raveiling to your comprehension ; and you know 
 not t^ow distressed X am at being compelled to 
 associate therewith the name of your grandsire !" 
 
 " It is kind of you to speak thus, my dear Wini- 
 fred," said Agnei ; " for. Oh ! if you were to hate 
 me as the descendant of one who has proved bo 
 bitter a foe to your own revered relative " 
 
 " if 1 were to bate you. Miss Evelyn," rejoined 
 Wiuil'reH, " I should be capable of hating an angel 
 from heaven ; and God be thanked 1 have no ca- 
 pacity for such wickedness !" 
 
 " Tell me how I can serve you!— Oh, tell me 
 how I can serve you !" exclaimed Agnes : " what 
 can I do to help in the disentanglement of this 
 fearful skein ? Is it money ? You shall have all 
 I can command— raise— borrow— or obtain " 
 
 " No, dear Miss Evelyn— it is not money that is 
 required," replied Winifred ; " for I am possessed 
 of ample funds to eliect my grandfather's libera- 
 tion. But I must demand your patience yet a 
 little while — and then you will see bow you can 
 serve me. The first grand object which I have 
 now in view, is to emancipate my grandfather 
 from prison : the second will be to bring the cause 
 on for hearing before the Lord Chancellor with 
 the least possible delay. The two matters are 
 . however perfectly distinct. In respect to the 
 former everything is arranged — everything is 
 Bettled, with this exception, — that Mr. Timperley 
 holds a document which has the effect of neutral- 
 izing all the other arraui^ements unless it be given 
 up into our hands. That document is of no real 
 
 use to Mr. Timperley as a security : in thi^ sense 
 it is valueless. The only thing is that by using it 
 as a means of coercion against my grandsire, Mr. 
 Timperley may possibly obtain recompenses from 
 Sir John Dalham— always supposing that the con- 
 jecture is the right one, and that Sir John Dal- 
 ham is the principal motive power in alt this 
 complicated wickedness." 
 
 "And Mr. Timperley has a deed, you say," ob- 
 served Agnes, " which for legitimate purposes is 
 of no use to him, but which on the other hand is 
 of vital importance to the furtherance of your 
 grandfather's interests ?" 
 
 "That is precisely the position in which the 
 matter stands," answered Winifred. " But I must 
 further tell you. Miss Evelyn, that we are not 
 quite so much in Mr. Timperley's power as from 
 what I have been saying you might conceive. 
 There is a law process by which Mr. Timperley 
 might be compelled to give up the deed, or else to 
 show good and proper cause why he retains it. 
 We might adopt this hostile course towards him. 
 But in the first place it would cause a considerable 
 delay in the emancipation of my grandfather; and 
 in the second place," added Winifred, with a look 
 and tone of tenderest friendship, " it would lead to 
 consequences most disagreeable to your feelings, 
 my dear Miss Evelyn, inasmuch as it would ne- 
 cessitate a total exposure of the whole transactions 
 of which my grandfather has been rendered the 
 victim ! — it would drag forth the name of Mr. 
 Waldron from the oblivion of the tomb and would 
 cover his memory with degradation and infamy !" 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Agnes; "then now I com- 
 prehend, my dear Wiliifred, that your motive in 
 coming to me has been not merely to seek my 
 assistance, but rather to confer a most delicate 
 favour on myself, and to spare me the pain of be- 
 holding the memory of my grandsire thus dragged 
 infamously to the light of the preseot day. Oh, I 
 thank you. Miss Barrington ! And now tell me, 
 what am I to do in this matter ? Has application 
 been made to Mr. Timperley for the deed ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Winifred ; " and Mr. Timperley 
 has made a dozen different excuses. In a word, 
 Mr. Wardour and Mr. Cartwright were desirous 
 of taking immediate measures against Mr. Tim- 
 perley : but I begged them to delay the matter 
 yet a little while, until I should have spoken to 
 you. For I will tell you what I thought, Miss 
 Evelyn " 
 
 " What did lou think, my dear friend ?" asked 
 Agnes. 
 
 " I happen to know that you are very intimate 
 — or at least that you used to be, with Mr. Tim- 
 perley's niece- Miss Cicely Neale who was— now 
 the Hon. Mrs. Hardress : while the Hon. Mrs. 
 Hardresa herself is said to wield great inffuence 
 over her uncle and aunt, for they gave her a dower 
 of some thirty or forty thousand pounds. I believe 
 that all these are facts. Miss Evelyn ?" 
 
 " Yes — everything you state is I believe per- 
 fectly consistent with the truth," said Agnes. 
 " The Hon. Mrs. Hardress occasionally visits me 
 here ; but I never go to her house. I fear, Wini- 
 fred, you may think that 1 am making use of a 
 subterfuge in order to avoid any interference with 
 the matter in question; and therefore I must tell 
 you #bBt some months ago the Hon. Mr. Hai-dre,^- 
 behaved most insultingly to me "
 
 329 
 
 " Not for a single infltant, toy dear Miss Eve- 
 lyn/' exclaimed Winifred, *' could I deem you 
 capable of subterfuge or duplicity. But in respect 
 to the Hun. Mr. Hardress I can positively inform 
 jou that be is not at tbis moment in London : for 
 when thinking of all these matters yesterday, I 
 took up a newspaper at Mr. Wardour's office, my 
 eye glanced at the name of Hardress — and I then 
 read amongst the Fashionable Intelligence that he 
 had set out with two or three young noblemen on 
 an excursion to Paris ; while the same paragraph 
 stated that the Hon. Mrs. Hardress remained at 
 her beautiful villa-residence at Bayswater." 
 
 *' You are therefore sure, Winifred," said Agnes, 
 " that the Hon. Hector Hardress is not in Lon- 
 
 '* If the newspaper paragraph can be relied 
 upon," rejoined Winifred ; " and I feel confident 
 that it is correct." 
 
 " Then in that case," said Miss Evelyn, " I will 
 at once proceed to Bayswater and see Cicely on 
 this important subject. Have you a description 
 of the deed to which such special reference is 
 
 " Yes," answered Winifred : " here are the par- 
 ticulars :" — and she produced a slip of paper 
 which she handed to Agnes. 
 
 A cab was sent for : Agnes took Winifred as 
 far as the New Eoad : there they separated— and 
 our heroine proceeded to Bayswater. 
 
 CHAPTEE LV. 
 
 THE DEED. 
 
 It was between one and two o'clock in the after- 
 noon—and Cicely was lounging in a voluptuous 
 easy chair, in an elegantly furnished apartment 
 at the villa at Bayswater. She was partaking of 
 breakfast, for she bad been up all night at a 
 brilliant entertainment given by her husband's 
 parents Lord and Lady Mendlesham, whose coun- 
 tenance she bad continued to enjoy ever since she 
 had extorted tbis concession as a reward for saving 
 the honour of her sister-in-law the Hon. Josephine 
 Hardress. 
 
 Cicely, having been in bed for some hours after 
 returning from the entertainment, had at length 
 risen ; and she now looked not as if she bad been 
 dissipating, so to speak, for the greater portion of 
 the night : there was a healthy freshness in her 
 appearance — a bloom upon the skin, — which set 
 off her beautiful complexion with the most bril- 
 liant effect. The reader will scarcely require to 
 be reminded that she was tall and good-looking, 
 without being absolutely beautiful or handsome. 
 She was robustly formed, with full rich contours, 
 voluptuously luxuriant, and yet not bordering 
 upon embonpoint. Her large blue eyes denoted 
 a certain soft sensuousness, but sufficiently refined 
 to be mistaken for a sentimental pensiveness. Her 
 lips were very full, and as pouting as they could 
 be without being absolutely coarse ; and they were 
 I ever habitually held slightly apart, displaying a 
 I magnificent set of teeth. Her limbs were ad- 
 mirably modelled— her arms robustly rounded— 
 the feet and ankles of a perfect symmetry. She 
 was now dressed in a morning negligie ; and as 
 
 AGSE8; OE, BEACTT A»D PLEiSDEB. 
 
 she lay half reclining in her easy chair— her fino 
 form sustained by the floculent velvet cushions- 
 one half-naked arm disclosed as she listlessly 
 played with the luxuriant tresses of her light 
 hair — there was an indescribable air of fascina- 
 tion and voluptuousness about this lady; audit 
 might even be said of her that she was quite 
 capable of wielding over certain hearts a power 
 and influence which many a woman of a more 
 exquisite beauty would fail to exercise. 
 
 We have already said that the room was ele- 
 gantly furnished ; and it exhibited the prevalence 
 of a perfect femiuine taste. The statues holding 
 I wax tapers — the mantel-ornaments — the draperies 
 — the china breakfast service— all testified to the 
 I game effect : while a beautiful little lapdog was no 
 I uninteresting addition to the entire scene. 
 j The Hon. Mrs. HarJress was thus lounging in 
 I her easy chair, when Miss Evelyn was announced. 
 As the reader is aware, this was the first time that 
 1 Agnes had ever called at the villa at Bayswaterj 
 and Cicely was therefore somewhat astonished on 
 beholding her friend— for she cherished a real 
 liking towards our amiable and beautiful heroine. 
 It was therefore a kind welcome which Agnes ex- 
 perienced ; and Cicely waited with some degree of 
 interest and suspense until the object of this visit 
 should be explained— though she was of course 
 too polite to put the question. 
 
 " I am rejoiced to see you, my dear Agnes," 
 said Cicely. " I was thinking of you just now ; 
 and it is moat probable that if you had not thus 
 called upon me, I should have presented myself at 
 Sidney Villa in the course of the afternoon. Have 
 you heard, my dear friend, of your cousin Flo- 
 ribel lately ?" 
 
 " I have heard nothing more of her," replied 
 Agnes, with a saddened look and voice, " since lUr. 
 De Vere wrote about two months back — I read 
 
 you that portion of his letter, you remember " 
 
 " Yes," said Cicely ; " in which Mr. De Vere in- 
 formed you that Flotibel had separated from Mr. 
 Clifi^ord— that she purposed to take another name 
 — and dwell altogether on the Continent in some 
 strict seclusion. Y'es — it must be two months 
 since the date of that letter ! And that is the 
 last intelligence you have received of your cousin 
 Floribel?" 
 
 " The last," rejoined Agnes. " Mr. De Vere 
 has hoard nothing of her since." 
 
 " And Mrs. Vere, whom I met one day at your 
 bouse, and who seemed to be a very nice lady, — 
 has she gone out to ^ori hereon at Naples i" asked 
 Cicely. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Agnes : " Mrs. De Vere left 
 England about three weeks ago. I have since re- 
 ceived a letter from her, notifying he> wfe arrival 
 at Naples. The letter came to England in the 
 British Ambassador's bag; and hence the speed 
 with which it has reached me. And now to speak 
 of yourself for a moment. Cicely,— you are looking 
 exceedingly well. But why so late at bretk- 
 fast f" 
 
 " Because, my dear Agnes, I was up till half- 
 past five o'clock this morning at a brilliant enter- 
 tainment given by Lord and Lady Mendlesham. 
 They were very much annoyed that Hardress 
 would not wait for it ; but be bad made all hia 
 
 arrangemeyts to go to Paris " 
 
 " Yes," said Agnes ; " I learnt through the me-
 
 d'.um of the newspaper that the Hon. Mr. Hard- 
 rcbs had gone upon the Continent. And now, 
 my dear Cicelj, I will touch upon the business 
 which has brought me hither— for this is reall; a 
 business Tisit !" 
 
 " Indeed ! business ?" exclaimed Cicely, with a 
 
 " Yes — it is a great favour that I have to ask 
 of you," continued Agnes ; " but I feel confident 
 that yon will do your best to grant it. you re- 
 member "Winifred Bnrrington ?'* 
 
 " Most assuredly," responded Mrs. Hardress — 
 and it was a sort of start that she gave when the 
 name was mentioned, " How can I forget any- 
 thing connected with that horrible murder ? BuS 
 why do you ask me ?" 
 
 " You know the interest which I took in that 
 poor girl " 
 
 " Did I not accompany you to the police- 
 office f 
 
 So. i2.-Aa»^f.. 
 
 " Yes — I remember !" exclaimed Agnes ; " and 
 you were not as strongly convinced aa I was ot 
 poor Winifred's innocence." 
 
 " But I am nqw— I have been ever since tho 
 trial— indeed perhaps even before it! But what 
 of this Winifred ? Ah ! I recollect that I heard 
 my uncle Mr. Timperlcj cumnlaining bitterly some 
 time ago, of the atFairs of Winifred's grandfather, 
 Mr. Barrington, being taken out of his hands. 
 
 He was excessively angry " 
 
 I " I hope that he is not so exceedingly angry 
 I still," said Agnes ; " for it is precisely in reference 
 I to these afi'airs of Mr. Barrington, and of Mr. 
 Timperley, that I am about to speak." 
 
 Indeed !" ejaculated Cicely. " And what can 
 
 this I 
 
 I be: 
 
 " I will tell you, my dear Cicely : btit the 
 metter is to be as much a secret as possible be- 
 tween you and me. You know that your uncle 
 Mr. Timperley succeeded my grandfather Mr.
 
 AOITEB; OB, BB1.UTT AND FLBASCBE. 
 
 P With mingled shame and sorrow am I 
 
 ed to confess that it was my grandfather 
 
 Waldron who initiated the ruin ol Mr. Bar- 
 
 ri-ston" 
 
 " Oil ! doubtless," exclaimed Cicely, " all clients 
 attribute their ruin to their lawyers !" — and as she 
 thus spoke her musicfil lau^h rang merrily through 
 the room, while her taper tin<;eTS went on playing 
 listlessly with the tresses of her light luxuriant 
 
 " I am sorry to say. Cicely," resumed Miss 
 Evelyn, gravely, " that my grandfather had a 
 direct and positive share in the persecution and 
 the ruin of that poor old man; and I, grand- 
 daughter of the one, wish to make atonement 
 from family to family, by rendering a service that 
 is sought of me by the granddaughter of the 
 other! Pray, dear Cicely, do not turn all this 
 into ridicule — nor laugli at it— nor think that I 
 am attaching too much importance to something 
 which has been told me ■" 
 
 "My dear Agnes," replied Mrs. Hardress, " I 
 will treat the matter as seriously as you yourself 
 are treating it. You know roy readiness to serve 
 you: tell me how this may bo dune, and trust to 
 Ciy good offices to accomplish your behest." 
 
 "Oh, this ij kind of you. Cicely!" exclaimed 
 Agnes : " but it is only what I expected from your 
 friendship. Listen, then ! Ail arrangements are 
 made for the liberation of old Mr. Barriogton, 
 with the exception of one detail ; and that is ex- 
 plained by this paper." 
 
 Agnes produced the slip which she had received 
 from Winifred ; and Cicely, glancing over its con. 
 tents, said, " It is some dee! which appears to be 
 in my uncle Mr. Timperley's possession." 
 
 "And it is precisely that deed which is now re- 
 quired to effect the poor oid man's deliverance. 
 May I trust to you, Cicely ? — dare 1 entreat of 
 you " 
 
 " It the deed be worth anything," interjected 
 the Hon. _ Mrs. Hardress, " my uncle is not ex- 
 actly the right sort of person to give up a security 
 without an adequate consideration ?" 
 
 " I am assured," said Agnes, " that it is worth 
 nothing to him in a proper and legitimate way." 
 
 "Then, if this be really the case," said Mrs. 
 Hardress, — "and since it is to oblige you, my 
 dear Agnes, I promise to fulfil your demand. Yes 
 — you may consider it to be as good as done ! 
 When once I pledge myself to such an extent, I 
 allow no difficulty to stand in the way — no ob- 
 stacle to oppose my will. I will go and see Mr. 
 Timperley this very afternoon ; and perhaps this 
 evening — or perhaps to-morrow morning — the deed 
 shall be in your possession." 
 
 Agnes expressed her liveliest gratitude to the 
 Hon. Mrs. Hardress for this assurance ; and after 
 « little more conversation our heroine took her 
 departure. Cicely then ordered her carriage, 
 and set off to visit her relatives in Lincoln's Inn 
 Fields. 
 
 On arriving there. Cicely learnt that her aunt 
 Mrs. Timperley had gone out to pay a round of 
 visits and was not expected home for a couple of 
 hours: but Mr. Timperlfv was in his office, and 
 disengaged at the moment. To that private office 
 did the Hon. Mrs. Hardress accordingly proceed; 
 and on making her appearance she greeted her 
 uneie just as if she entertained the utmost respect 
 
 I and affection for him — while he on his part pre- 
 tended to be very glad to see her; for this was the 
 
 I sort of demeanour, which, as it were by tacit con- 
 sent, they bad respectively agreed to adopt to- 
 
 I wards each other. Cicely sat down; and the 
 
 j lawyer was about to consign some documents back 
 to the particular place from which they had been 
 taken, when Cicely's quick eye caught sight of 
 the endorsement upon the packet ; and she said 
 with a significant look, " Ah ! the affair of Morton 
 Evelyn and the Ormsby Peerage ?" 
 
 I "Yes, Cicely," answered the lawyer, with a 
 peculiarly knowing expression of countenance : 
 
 I " Morton Evelyn and the Ormsby Peerage affair. 
 I have this very day received a piece of informa- 
 tion — it is of the most extraordinary character — 
 
 but more extraordinary, I fear, than useful " 
 
 " That is a singular expression, my dear uncle," 
 
 I said Cicely. " What do you mean ? Surely to 
 one who at a certain period of his life took so 
 much interest in this affair, any piece of intelli- 
 
 j gence which at all bears thereupon must be of 
 more or less utility ?" 
 
 " Not necessarily so," aniwered Mr. Timperi ey. 
 " But I do not think, Cicely, that you either 
 
 [ know enough of the matter, or care sufficiently 
 
 ] about it to be at all interested " 
 
 "On the contrary," said the Hon. Mrs. Hard- 
 ress: "I know the whole story— at least so far »3 
 
 I you one day chose to make me acquainted with it» 
 
 j when certain circumstances transpired to impart 
 a special interest to the aSiit in my estimation, 
 although 80 many years have elapsed since the 
 
 romantic events took place " 
 
 " Well, well. Cicely — enough upon that point !" 
 said the lawyer. "Tell me, how is your biu- 
 
 band " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my dear uncle," ioter- 
 
 j jected the Hon. Mrs. Hardress: "let us for • 
 moment revert to the topic on which our attention 
 was fixed. You say that you have received some 
 
 j peculiar information relative to the affair of the 
 Ormsby Peerage, and which information is more 
 
 I singular than useful " 
 
 I "If you have any curiosity on the point, my 
 dear Cicely," said the solicitor, *' I have no ob- 
 jection to gratify it. There is not a shadow of a 
 secret connected with the business — — " 
 
 1 " And even if there were," interrupted Cicely, 
 with a significant look, "you would not keep it 
 
 brows, and appeared for 
 
 °SU 
 
 
 but 
 
 quickly recovering himself, he said, " I have this 
 day received a piece of information — or rather I 
 should term it, certain documentary evidence, 
 which if it had only transpired some eighteen or 
 nineteen years ago, would have materially altered 
 the current of many events " 
 
 " Indeed ?" said Cicely. " But what, my dear 
 uncle, may this documentary evidence bo ?" 
 
 "Since you have told mo that you are ac- 
 quainted with the entire narrative of the past," re- 
 sumed Mr. Timperley, " I need scaicely remind 
 you that a certain Mr. Morton Evelyn ■" 
 
 " Was supposed for the moment to be Lord 
 Ormsby — was made to believe that ho was," said 
 Cicelv, — " was duped and deceived " 
 
 " Well, well," interrupted Mr. Timperley, "tliare 
 ii no use in entering into elaborate detaiit; for
 
 IQKES; 
 
 K, BEACTT AND PIKi3CSE. 
 
 fOU know. Cicely — though the world generally 
 does not know— that Mr. ^Yaldron never for a 
 moment belieTed Morton Evelyn to be the veri- 
 table heir to the Ormsby peerage and property 
 But should you not be surprised. Cicely, if you 
 were to leara that this Morton Evelyn whom 
 Waldron, ns you know, put forward as a pre- 
 tender " 
 
 "Surely," ejaculated Mrs Hardress, with in- 
 creasing interest and astonishment, " you are not 
 going to tell me that Morton Evelyn was after 
 
 all " 
 
 " The rightful heir. Cicely !— as sure as you are 
 sitting there!" responded Mr. Timperley. "Yes 
 — be was the real and true Lord Ormsby after 
 all !" 
 
 " Oood heavens ! this is marvellous !" cried the 
 lady. " Then Agnes is the heiress to the wealth, at 
 
 least, if not to the title " 
 
 " Slop, stop, my dear Cicely ! bo not so fast !" 
 said the lawyer. " There are numberless conside- 
 ratioas in this business: and 1 was plunged in the 
 midst of them at the moment when you entered 
 my office. First, however, in reepect to Morton 
 Evelyn, it is actually and positively the case that 
 be wa« the veritable heir to the Ormsby peerage 
 and property. After all, it is scarcely any wonder 
 if the late Joshua Waldron when casting his line 
 into a lake swarmiag with Evelyns, should at last 
 
 have hooked up a particular fish " 
 
 " But it is nevertheless wonderful," observed 
 Cicely, " ihat the particular Evelyn whom he put 
 forward as a pretender, should turn out to be 
 the rightful claimant to the title and wealth of 
 Ormsby !" 
 
 " Yes — that is singular enough," said Mr. Tim- 
 perley. " Morton Evelyn could never trace back his 
 pedigree farther than Andrew Evelyn, his grand- 
 sire; and thus it became impossible to connect 
 that Andrew Evelyn with the Evelyns of the 
 Ormsby race. Indeed, Waldron was never serious 
 in entertaining the belief that any such conneiion 
 could possibly be established. But now the fact is 
 
 brought to light— it is elucidated " 
 
 " And everything which upwards of eighteen 
 years back Mr. Waldron sought to establish by 
 means of forged deeds and documents, — every- 
 thing, I say," continued Cicely, " was actually 
 ■and positively correct ?— and there was no fraud 
 after all except in the means by which it was en- 
 -deavoured to substantiate the truth?" 
 
 " It is all just as you say. Cicely," rejoined Mr. 
 Timperley ; " and therefore you comprehend what 
 I meant when 1 just now said that if the evidence 
 which I have this day received should have only 
 turned up some eighteen years ago, it would have 
 given a far different impulse to many important 
 events. Morton Evelyn would not have run away, 
 never to be heard of any more— Joshua Waldron 
 would not have committed suicide— his daughter 
 Honoris would not have died of a broken heart— 
 «nd Agnes would not have been an orphan in her 
 infancy." 
 
 " All would indeed have been very different !" 
 said Cicely, musing. " But if I mistake not," she 
 resumed, at the espiration of a few moments, 
 "the property is immense,— consisting of ready 
 
 money and estates " 
 
 "Tes," said Mr. Timperley; "there are estates 
 in Wiltshire, producing upwards of six thousand 
 
 a-year : they have long ago reverted to the Crowa 
 —but they could easily bo recovered from the Go- 
 vernment if an heir were to make his appear- 
 
 " Sis appearance ?" said Cicely. " Ah ! then, 
 I understand!— the estates were all vested in the 
 heirs male ; and therefore poor Agnes cannot 
 assert her claim. Ah ! but the ready money that 
 was in the Bank of Eogland, or the Sinking Fund, 
 or whatever you call it, — does not that amount to 
 two hundred thousand pounds ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Mr. Timperley. " But " 
 
 " But ?" ejaculated Cicely : " is there indeed a 
 but in this case ? — cannot Agnes claim the ready 
 
 " She might — yes, she might," answered the 
 lawyer, slowly and deliberately. "It is upon all 
 this that I have been thioking. But she must not 
 claim it. Cicely !— and therefore it is unnecessary 
 
 to excite any hope in her mind " 
 
 " And why must she not claim it P" inquired 
 Urs. Hardress. 
 
 " For several reasons," responded the lawyer. 
 ' In the first place she would have to prove that 
 her father, Mr. Morton Evelyn- or Lord Ormsby, 
 tually was after all — has ceased to exist. 
 And this she cannot prove; and therefore she 
 would have to briog forward all possible evidence 
 to show that he is not likely to be in existence 
 — or in other words that he disappeared suddenly 
 upwards of eighteen years ago, and has never since 
 been heard of." 
 
 " And this," said Cicely, " would surely be held 
 as the best presumptive evidence that Morton 
 Evelyn, as we will call him, is indeed no more ?" 
 
 " Yes — but it would be necessary to show under 
 what circumstances he disappeared, upwards of 
 eighteen years back," continued Mr. Timperley. 
 " Kemember that this is a question of recovering 
 money from the Government ; and the Govern- 
 ment in such cases never parts with a shilling un- 
 less the claim be made good upon positive evi- 
 dence, or at least the very best presumptive 
 testimony. Let us suppose that Agnes Evelyn 
 were to assert her claim to this two hundred thou- 
 sand pounds ; she would allege her father's disap- 
 pearance, and the fact that he has never since been 
 beard of, as the proofs of his death. But the 
 Government would ask what reason there was for 
 supposing that he might never reappear upon the 
 theatre of the world ? — it would ask to know what 
 circumstances had led to his disappearance ? It 
 would then be necessary to revive past events— to 
 repeat a tale which has long since been forgotten 
 
 in a word. Cicely," added the lawyer, bending 
 
 a significant look upon his niece, "it would by no 
 means suit me to recall to men's minds the fact 
 that I was Mr. WalJron's clerk at the period when 
 all those events took place." 
 
 Cicely reflected for a few moments ; and then 
 she said, "True! you were Mr. Waldron's clerk 
 — but could you not so tell the tale of past eventa 
 as to separate yourself from all the iniquity 
 thereof?" 
 
 " Scarcely so— scarcely so," answered Mr. Tim- 
 perley, shaking his head. "Look you. Cicely. 
 Eighteen years have elapsed since those events; 
 and during this period I have toiled— I have won 
 riches for myself — and what is more, I have made 
 my name respectable ; and people whea speaking
 
 839 
 
 01" the opulent Mr. Titnperley ot the present day, 
 do not think of inquiring who he formerly was, 
 or of recollecting everjthing they may at one time 
 hare known about him. Well then, think you that 
 it is worth my while to give an impulse to all such 
 inquiries or to excite all such recollections — to bring 
 my name before the public in connexion with Wal- 
 dron and Ormsby " 
 
 "And yet, for Agnes Erelyn's sake," said Cicely, 
 "you ought to strain a point " 
 
 " Oh ! but there are other considerations besides 
 these which 1 have been mentioning," said Air. 
 Timperley, who began to regret that he had made 
 a coy^fidante of his niece in the present instance, 
 "Listen! After Waldron'a suicide, following so 
 closely upon Morton Erelyn's disappearance, sur. 
 mises arose that there was something wrong in 
 respect to Morton's assumption of the Ormsby 
 peerage and to the claims be had made upon the 
 property " 
 
 " He never received any ot the property f " said 
 Cicely inquiringly. 
 
 "Never," answered Mr. Timperley: "but for a 
 little while he bore the title ot Lord Ormsby. As 
 1 was saying, however, his sudden disappearance, 
 followed 80 closely by Waldron's suicide, gave rise 
 to something more than mere surmise and conjec- 
 ture ; and the Government official called at this 
 office— for it was Waldron's, you know— to inquire 
 for all the deeds and documents in any way con- 
 nected with Morton Evelyn's alleged claims. Of 
 course, my dear Cicely," added the lawyer, fixing 
 a significant look upon his niece, " I told the Go- 
 vernment official that there were no such papers 
 In the oifice, and that 1 therefore supposed that 
 Mr. Waldron must have destroyed them before he 
 put a period to his own existence." 
 
 "But all the while you knew where the papers 
 were," said Cicely; "you had kept them — you had 
 possession ot them— you had secreted them ?" 
 
 "Yes— or else how could they be now in my 
 possession ?" asked Mr. Timperley, with a cunning 
 smile. " I scarcely know why I kept them : per- 
 haps I thought that I might some day turn them 
 to a better advantage than Waldron had done; — 
 for you must remember that by his death my own 
 position was rendered a desperate one, and I was 
 ready to do almost anything to obtain a crust : but 
 fortunately I found at that moment a good client 
 — none other than your father-in-law Lord Men- 
 dlesham — who required me to transact some little 
 business of rather a delicate character, on his be- 
 half. This affair put me in possession ot ready 
 money. I toiled on— I took out an attorney's cer- 
 tificate — I addressed myself to all Waldron's old 
 clients — many of them came around me — and 
 thus by degrees I succeeded in making a better 
 business than even he bad ever possessed " 
 
 " And therefore," said Cicely, " you had no need 
 to make use of the Evelyn papers ?" 
 
 "No: but from time to time I have looked over 
 them— I have examined into their minutest de- 
 tails — I have perused the copious memoranda 
 which were the result of Waldron's long years of 
 research— and I have thought to myself that if 
 •ver the real heir ot the Ormsby peerage could be 
 
 " Well," interrupted Cicely, " but you have lost 
 the thread of your discourse. You were giving 
 me reasons to show how it is expedient that Agnes 
 
 on, BEiCIY AHD PLBABCBB. 
 
 Evelyn should remain in ignorance of this claim 
 which she now has to the sum of two hundred 
 thousand pounds, as well as the prefix of Honour- 
 able to her name as the daughter ot a peer " 
 
 " Yes," said the lawyer ; " I was telling you mj 
 reasons. When the Government official called 
 upon me, eighteen years ago, to inquire for the 
 Evelyn papers, I declared that Mr. Waldron must 
 have destroyed them. That si 
 official is still alive— I met him the other day- 
 knows me well. If I were now to produce 
 papers, he would recollect the former 
 —it would all tell against me— it would bring mj 
 name into disrepute — it would at once convince 
 the world that I was not merely Waldron's clerk, 
 
 but likewise his accomplice In short. Cicely, 
 
 the whole thing is an affair which 1 should prefer 
 to leave at rest ! It must inevitably do roe more 
 harm than good to suffer it to be revived or re- 
 opened ! There is only one contingency ia which 
 the business could now benefit me ; and that is 
 pretty nearly an impossibility " 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked Cicely. 
 
 "I mean, it Morton Evelyn— or rather Lord 
 Ormsby, as we may call him— should be 
 living " 
 
 " And may not this be possible ?" 
 
 " No — preposterous ! absurd !" ejaculated Mr. 
 Timperley. " Upwards ot eighteen years have 
 elapsed since he disappeared, and nothing more 
 was ever beard of him. He was fond of his wife 
 and devotedly attached to his infant. Think you, 
 then, that if he had lived he would have continued 
 indifferent to their fate? No! — rest assured 
 that the nnfortunate young man committed 
 suicide, when fleeicg from his house on the me- 
 morable occasion that he rushed from his drawing- 
 room, almost knocking me down as I was standing 
 . the threshold contemplating the strange and 
 exciting scene before me! Yes — rest assured, I 
 say, that he committed suicide ! — for he was like 
 one demented. Ah, it was a scene which one who 
 gazed upon it never can forget !" 
 
 " Let us suppose, then," said Cicely, " that- 
 Morton Evelyn has long been dead, — still, my de«» 
 uncle, for the sake of his daughter Agnes " 
 
 " Cicely !" interrupted the lawyer, » ith stern- 
 ness, " I have already told you that it suits my 
 terests to leave the matter entirely at rest, 
 rather than in any way to revive it. In plain 
 terms, I don't want the past to be Ulked 
 
 "But surely, my dear uncle," urged Cicely, 
 you could devise some means of putting Agnee 
 1 possession of her rights without compromising 
 yourself ?" 
 
 I have thought deeply over the subject," re- 
 joined Mr. Timperley ; " and I find that it cannot 
 be done without inconvenience or risk to myself. 
 seem to have taken a great fancy to Agae» 
 Evelyn oil of a 6udden.= " 
 
 " You know that I liked her almost from the 
 ry first instant that I was introduced to her," 
 said Cicely. " But now I will tell you why I have 
 conceived not merely this liking, but I may term 
 it a special affection for Agnes Evelyn. Tou do 
 not know how long I was acquainted with Hector 
 before we were married : there are certain circum- 
 stances ot which you are ignorant, and 
 hich there is no need that I shoul.i be eipli
 
 AONKa ; OB, BEAUTY AND PIEABCKB. 
 
 Suffice it however to say that Hector made lore to 
 Agnes— and she rejected him. From that circum- 
 Btance arose the duel which was fought between 
 Hector and Charles De Vere. Well, my dear 
 uncle, Agnes refused the overtures of Hector — 
 
 she was not dazzled by his patrician rank and 
 
 now will you tell me whether I ought not to feel 
 myself under an obligation to her who thus left 
 Hector free to become my husband ?'* 
 
 " She did not know at the time that she was 
 rendering you this service," said Mr. Timperley. 
 
 " No matter," ejaculated Mrs. Hardress, — "no 
 matter whether it were done with any special pur- 
 pose or not ! At all events to me the result has 
 been most important. And besides, there are cer- 
 tain persons in the world whom you cannot help 
 liking ; and I confess that I have conceived the 
 greatest interest in Agnes Evelyn." 
 
 " But you will nevertheless respect the secret 
 which I have communicated to you," said Mr. 
 Timperley. "Kecollect," he continued, with a look 
 of sombre signi6cancy, " when upwards of three 
 months back you demanded thirty thousand 
 pounds at my hands, you told me that you were 
 intensely selfish — a hypocrite and a dissembler, as 
 well as an astute strategist— that all your sympa- 
 thies were concentrated in your own egotism— that | 
 to achieve your own aggrandizement you would ■ 
 trample upon any other consideration— that you | 
 would scruple at no crime so long as you had the 
 certainty of shielding yourself from its coDse- ! 
 quences " 
 
 " Yes, truly— I recollect," said the Honourable I 
 Mrs. Hardress, with the utmost coolness, as with 
 ber taper fingers she played with a tress of her 
 long hair, while lounging negligently back in the i 
 easy chair in which she was seated ; " I have no 
 doubt 1 spoke to somewhat that effect. And now 
 I presume that you would have me infer that if I 
 am selfish, you also are selfish ?" | 
 
 " And as you would sacrifice everything to your ] 
 own interests. Cicely," rejoined the lawyer, " I 
 may be permitted to entertain the same views and 
 act after a similar fashion. Therefore let me i 
 hear not another syllable on behalf of Agnes ' 
 Evelyn " I 
 
 " Well, well, my dear uncle," interjected Cicely, j 
 " we are not going to dispute upon the point. 
 Ah ! you have forgotten to tell me how you oh- i 
 tained that piece of documentary evidence which 
 substantiates the claims of the deceased Morton ! 
 Evelyn ; for deceased we must suppose him to 
 
 me that happening to stumble over an old new*, 
 paper a few days ago, he had sat down to read it 
 
 fron 
 
 be saw this ad- 
 
 ngular enough,' 
 
 " The incident 
 Mr. Timperley. ' 
 this morning at about ten o'clock, 
 old man— quite an unpolished rust 
 
 swered 
 y oifice 
 when a very 
 ic— called to 
 apeak to me. His age is upwards of eighty ; but 
 he has a fine bale look, and must possess a vigo- 
 rous constitution. I asked him what bis business 
 was ? So he took out an old greasy pocket-book, 
 tied round with what appeared to be a shoe- 
 •tring ; and thence he produced a scrap cut from 
 an old newspaper bearing a date of nineteen years 
 back. He handed it to me ; and I saw it was an 
 advertisement inquiring for the baptismal certifi- 
 cate of a certain Andrew Evelyn, and offering a 
 reward of twenty guineas for the production of 
 oae. I aaked the old man what his object 
 showing me this advertisement. He told 
 
 vertisement. Now, being the parish clerk of tho 
 village of Broomdale in Warwickshire, he took ii 
 into his head to examine the registry ; it was first 
 the whim of an idle moment, without the hope 
 that such a search would result in success. Con- 
 ceive therefore the old man's astonishment when 
 he discovered the very certificate specified in the 
 advertisement! He took a copy of it; and having - 
 some little business to transact in London, he 
 thought he might just as well call at this office to 
 see if by any chance the certificate were now of 
 any use. Having told me this tale, the old man 
 produced the certificate : I glanced at it, and aS 
 once saw that it filled up the gap which WaldroQ 
 had not been able to surmount except by means of 
 fraud and forgery. It however immediately struck 
 me that the affair must now be dealt cautiously 
 with. I therefore assured the old clerk that tho 
 certificate had for years ceased to be of the slightest 
 use — that I would however keep it since he had 
 been kind enough to bring it— and that I would 
 give him five guineas as a reward for his good in. 
 tentions. He went away delighted ; and I re- 
 tained possession of the certificate.'* 
 
 " The incident is a singular one," observed 
 Cicely. " But now, my dear uncle, as we have 
 discoursed upon this topic long enough, I will 
 beg to turn yuur attention to another, for I have 
 yet to explain the particular motive which led mo 
 to call upon you this afternoon,'* 
 
 " And what is that motive, my dear niece ?" 
 asked Mr. Timperley. 
 
 " I just now received a visit from the very 
 young lady of whom we have been speaking— I 
 mean Agnes Evelyn. You know that she took a 
 great interest in the affairs of Winifred Barring- 
 ton " 
 
 " Well, well," said Mr. Timperley, now fidgeting 
 nervously with the piles of documents which lay 
 before him upon the desk ; " I hope, my dear 
 Cicely, I am not going to hear any long atory 
 upon this topic ?" 
 
 " It will be a short one if you do not interrupt 
 me," replied the Hon. Mrs. Hardress. " All ar- 
 rangements are made for the liberation of old Mr. 
 Barriogton " 
 
 "Ah! I knew what they were working at':" 
 ejaculated the lawyer, with a malignant gleaming 
 in his eyes. " They have applied to me for a 
 certain document — but I will not give it up. 
 No, no !— so long as I hold possession of that 
 
 " But you will not hold possession of it any 
 longer, my dear uncle," said Cicely, with an af- 
 fable smile and yet with a peremptory tone. "It 
 will only get you into trouble, I can assure you; 
 and you who are so afraid of suffering in reputa- 
 tion on account of the Morton Evelyn affair of 
 bygone years, are now with a strange fatuity 
 rushing headlong into the vortex ot disgrace in 
 the affair of these Barringtons " 
 
 " Not 90, my dear Cicely : I know what I am 
 about," interrupted the lawyer. " You cannot 
 penetrate into these mysteries " 
 
 " I know this much, uncle," she exclaimed, — 
 " that the deed to which X refer is utterly uselesa 
 to yourself in a legitimate point of view— you cat}
 
 AONES: OB, BBACTY ASD PLBA3DEE. 
 
 never recocee any money upon it— while on the 
 other band it serves in some way or another 
 to detain that poor old man in prison." 
 
 "And think you not, my dear girl," cried Mr. 
 Timperloy, " that I lind it to my account to pursue 
 this policy f" 
 
 " I have no doubt you are paid from some quar- 
 ter or another," rejuined Cicely; " but all this is 
 a very dangerous game which you are playing. 
 Believe me, my dear uncle " 
 
 " Enough, Cicely ! I understand my own busi- 
 ness best," ejaculated the lawyer. " 1 will not be 
 dictated to — I will not be coerced " 
 
 " Excuse me, my dear uncle," said Cicely, still 
 with a smiling countenance, and yet with firmness 
 oi tone J ■' but you will have the kindness to give 
 me up that deed, of which this is a description :" 
 — and she produced the slip of paper which she 
 had received from our heroine. 
 
 " Cicely, you are mad !" exclaimed the lawyer ; 
 "coming to dictate to me in such a fashion! 
 What earthly interest have you " 
 
 " I wish to oblige Miss Evelyn— who in her 
 turn is acsious to oblige Miss Barriogton. Now, 
 my dear uncle, without another syllable of parley," 
 continued ilrs. Hardress, " give me up that deed. 
 It is useless to hesitate : give it me, I say !" ' 
 
 " AdiI if I refuse, Cicely ?" said the lawyer, 
 looking anxiously and deprecatingly in her coun- 
 tenance. 
 I She bent forward— gazed steadfastly upon him 
 — and said in a low decisive tone, "You dare not 
 
 I Mr. Timperley's pale face now became abso- 
 lutely ghastly : his ashy lips quivered as if he 
 were about to say something; but the next in- 
 stant he bit them as if to still their agitation, and 
 perhaps to keep back the angry words that were 
 ready to burst forth. He rose from his seat : he 
 was about to turn towards a large japan- box bear- 
 ing the name of "Baeeisgton" painted upon it, 
 when suddenly bethinking himself of something, 
 he muttered, "Ah! I recollect! I was looking 
 
 over the deed just now it is here somewhere 
 
 amongst these papers." 
 
 But Mr. Timperley was so nervous and agi. \ 
 tated, and his hands trembled to such a degree, 
 that instead of singling out the particular deed ! 
 he required from amidst the number of documents 
 upon his desk, he only seemed as if he were ren- , 
 dering the confusion worse confounded. He 
 jumbled and tumbled them all together — he ap- 
 peared as if he had lost his head : the last words | 
 I which Cicely had spoken seemed to have filled his 
 I soul with dismay. I 
 
 " My dear uncle," said Cicely, " you will put all 
 
 I your papers into the most inextricable confusion ! ' 
 
 1 Look — is not this the one which I require ? It I 
 
 . eeems to bear an endorsement corresponding with 
 
 the words written on that little slip of paper?" j 
 
 " Yes, yes — it is the deed you require," an- . 
 
 Bwered the lawyer, in a tremulous voice. " Take ' 
 
 it. Cicely— take it. But how often do you mean 
 
 to use this power " 
 
 "Do not he afraid that I shall play the tyrant 
 towards you," interrupted Cici-ly. " In the pre- 
 sent instance I am obliging my friend Agnes 
 Evelyn; and I am enabling you, uncle, to show a 
 favour unto Winifred Eorrington." 
 
 "Well, well. Cicely— take the deed! take the 
 
 I deed!" cried Mr. Timperley, who w»» shaking and 
 quivering as if smitten with the palsy. "Here I 
 take it, my dear girl— tako it! But pray keep 
 
 I silent in respect to the secret which you have tbii 
 day learnt relative to the EveJyn affairs !" • 
 
 I •■ Fear nothing," replied Mrs. Hardress; "you 
 know very well that I should not travel out of my 
 
 I way to injure you, nor to do aught that might en- 
 
 , danger your reputation." 
 
 I Cicely then took her leave of her uncle, and 
 hastened forth to her carriage, concealing beneath 
 her rich Cashmere shawl the" deed which Mr. Tim- 
 perley with nervous hand had hastily enveloped in 
 a sheet of paper ere be consigned it into her poa- 
 eession. But as the door closed upon that indi- 
 vidual, he threw himself back in bis seat, and 
 pressed his hands to his throbbing brows, mur- 
 muring, " She-devil that she is ! — maledictions 
 
 ' upon the day which placed me in her power !" 
 
 I A few minutes afterwards Mr. Timperley en- 
 deavoured to ' apply himself to whatsoever busi- 
 
 j ness next demanded his attention : but he found 
 that he could not settle bis mind to such a degree. 
 His thoughts were agitated — bis nerves were un- 
 strung : he felt the necessity of fresh air. He 
 accordingly locked up his own private room, leav- 
 ing all the deeds and documents lying as they 
 were upon the table; and he sallied forth to 
 woo the icy breeze to his feverishly throbbing 
 brows. 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 THB QUADHOOif WIFE. 
 
 The Hon. Mrs. Hardress, on re-enteriog her e«i> 
 riagp, ordered it to drive to Sidney Villa at St. 
 John's Wood. She had a splendid pair of horsec 
 belonging to her equipage : the distance was soon 
 accomplished— and it was about five o'clock at 
 Cicely reached Miss Evelyn's abode. 
 
 " I have succeeded according to my promise," 
 she said, the moment she entered the drawing- 
 room to which Eachel conducted her. " Here, my 
 dear Agnes, is the deed you require!— and now- 
 let me hope there will be no barrier to the eman- 
 cipation of poor old Mr. Barrington ?" 
 
 " Ob, Cicely !" exclaimed Agnes, " this is in- 
 deed most kind of you ! Y'ou know not what 
 happiness your generosity will have the effect of 
 instilling into the soul of poor Winifred ! But 
 tell me, did ycu experience much ditfioulty with 
 Mr. Timperley " 
 
 "Y'es, Agnes— the work was not accomplished 
 without some little degree of entreaty and per- 
 suasion. However, there is the document; — and 
 now the only return I ask for the little service I 
 have thus rendered, is that through Winifred's in- 
 tervention in respect to her graadsire's affairs, the 
 name of Mr. Timperley may be mentioned with 
 as little acerbity aa possible: for remember, Agnes, 
 he is my uncle— and unfortunately in this world 
 the evil repute of an individual redounds more or 
 less on the heads of all his relatives and con- 
 nexions." 
 
 " I understand," said Agnes; " and rest assured, 
 my dear Cicely, that from your generous conduct 
 no unpleasant effects shall redound upon your own 
 head !"
 
 3; OK, BEACTT ASD PLKASDBE. 
 
 335 
 
 Cicely soon took her leave: and when Agnes 
 was again alone, alio opened the envelope of the 
 packet which had been left with her, in order to 
 assure herself that it was the actual deed which 
 "Winifred required, and that no mistake had been 
 committed. She saw by the endorsement that it 
 was the very one ; and she was about to envelope 
 the document again in the white paper, when she 
 perceived that something bad fallen upon the 
 carpet. This was a small slip ; and Agnes, picking 
 it up, replaced it in the middle of the deed without 
 doing more than glancing her eyes along the 
 uppermost line of its contents; so that the only 
 words which she happened to catch were these — 
 " SrootndaJe, Wanvickshire." She had no undue 
 curiosity: she was incapable of prying into the 
 affairs of others; and thus she read not a single 
 line of the deed itself beyond the endorsement ; 
 while of this separate slip of paper to which we 
 have alluded, she caught but these two single 
 words of its contents. She wrapped the document 
 and the slip in the envelope, and consigned the 
 packet to a secure place, with tho purpose of 
 taking it to "Winifred the very first thing in the 
 morning. 
 
 If Agnes had only possessed the slightest share 
 of curiosity, she would have been perhaps led to 
 peruse a slip the contents of which intimately 
 related to herself; and though she might not have 
 comprehended how such a paper could have borne 
 any reference to her own affairs, yet in consequence 
 of falling in with the name of Evelyn, she might 
 have been led to make inquiries— and she might 
 then possibly have got upon a clue tending to 
 farther developments. All this is however per- 
 fectly hypothetical, and is indeed a useless specu- 
 lation, for the simple fact that Agnes did not read 
 the paper at all— or at least her eye only accident, 
 ally caught the two words which we have recorded, 
 and which seemed not to have any connexion, even 
 the remotest, with herself or her own affairs. But, 
 Oh! if Agnes had known what that slip of paper 
 was — if she could only have conjectured how inti- 
 mately it regarded her ! For perhaps the leader 
 has by this time begun to understand what it was 
 that had happened. Mr. Timperley, in the con- 
 fusion, hurry, and nervous agitation into which ho 
 was plunged when looking for the particular deed 
 that bis niece required, had accidentally taken up 
 at the same time the certificate brought him in 
 the morning by the old parish clerk of Broomdale, 
 "Warwickshire. Cicely had not opened the packet 
 in her own carriage; and, as the reader has just 
 •een, Agnes thought that it was a paper belonging 
 to the larger document itself. "Wo should add 
 that throughout the remainder of this day Mr. 
 Timperley did not miss the certificate; for he 
 went forth in an agitated state of mind from his 
 office after his interview with his niece, and did 
 not enter it again until the following morning at 
 ten o'clock. 
 
 But before this hour on that morning, the 
 packet was consigned to the hands of Winifred 
 Barrington. Agnes was determined to see it safe 
 in the possession of the old captive's grand- 
 daughter ; and she therefore left Sidney Villa as 
 early as eight o'clock that morning, so that her 
 generous aim should be fulfilled with the least 
 possible delay. The cab which bore her set her 
 down before nine o'clock at the door of Mrs. 
 
 Slater's house in Aldersgate Street ; for Winifred 
 still resided there. Though possessed of riches, 
 she had made but little change in her mode of 
 living : indeed the only change being the renun- 
 ciation of working with her noedlo for tho sake of 
 recompense. 
 
 Agnes was soon shown up into Winifred's neat 
 little sitting-room; and the moment the usual 
 complimentary greetings were exchanged, our 
 amiable heroine laid upon the table a packet 
 which she had carefully sealed and tied round 
 with a piece of ribbon. 
 
 "There, my dear Winifred," she said; "is the 
 document which I have succeeded in obtaining 
 for you. You have to thank the Hon. Mrs. 
 Hardress " 
 
 "Oh ! first of all, my dear Miss Evelyn, let me 
 thank you !" exclaimed Winifred, her countenance 
 beaming with the animation of joy. "Kind and 
 ercellent friend that you are ! how can I ever 
 sufficiently demonstrate my gratitude ? Tou 
 have done a noble action. Miss Erelyn !— you 
 have removed the last barrier which opposed the 
 liberation of my aged grandsire ! As for the Hon. 
 Mrs. Hardress, I will write (o her— I will thank 
 her likewise !— for Ob .' the favour which through 
 the medium of you both I am now receiving, is 
 indeed immense !" 
 
 Agnes was well pleased to find that her friend 
 Winifred was rendered so happy by the possession 
 of the deed ; and she took her leave, saying, " I 
 will not delay you another instant; for I know 
 that your heart is now yearning to behold the 
 accomplishment of your task and to welcome your 
 grandsire forth into tho fresh air ot" freedom. 
 When he is released, Winifred, and you have a 
 little time to spare, bring him to see me. You 
 must both pass a day with me at Sidney "Villa ; 
 for it will render me happy to contemplate the 
 joy and felicity which will be reserved fur both of 
 you." 
 
 Agnes departed ; and Winifred, with joyously 
 throbbing bosom, hastened to perform her toilet 
 for going out, that she might repair to Messrs. 
 Cartwright and Co., the legal firm in Chancery 
 Lane, and place the deed in their possession. But 
 while she was about to put on her bjnnet, she 
 heard a violent and impatient knock at the front 
 door : the door was opened— and then she heard 
 footsteps rushing up the staircase, as if the per- 
 son thus coming were in frantic haste. But Ah ! 
 
 those footsteps good heavens! was it possible ? 
 
 did they not sound like steps which she had heard 
 before some two or three months back ? A sen- 
 sation like that of terror seized upon her brain 
 and upon her heart : she dropped her bonnet — the 
 door was burst open — and her cousin Gustavus 
 made his appearance. 
 
 He was about to catch her in his arms ; but she 
 held herself back— not with an air of unkindness, 
 but with a becoming maiden firmness, — at the 
 same time giving him her hand, and saying in a 
 collected manner, " You are welcome, Gustavus." 
 
 Winifred had all in a moment become com- 
 pletely the mistress over her actions as well as 
 
 thei 
 
 
 ever painful to her feelings might have been the 
 eflort required for this purpose. There was no 
 coldness in her manner: but her demeanour was 
 that of a young person possessing a proper fcmi.
 
 AONEa; OR, BKADTT AND PLEASURE. 
 
 nine dignity, and who, for tbe sake of her own 
 •elf-respect, was resolved to be respected hy one 
 with whom she had formerly stood on other 
 terms. 
 
 " Gustavus, you are welcome," she had said, as 
 she f;avc him her hand. 
 
 " Ob, Winifred !" he exclaimed, with an an- 
 guished exprcssiuu of countenance ; " I see that 
 you hate me — that you abhor and loathe me '* 
 
 *' Guatavus," interrupted Winifred, " you have 
 no right to speak thus. It is impossible I can 
 hate you : I experience towards you the greatest 
 interest ;— and I hope, Gustavus — I hope, my dear 
 cousin, that you are happy with your wife p" 
 
 " Ah, my wife!" cried the young man : "how 
 knew you that she was my wife ?*' 
 
 "How did I know it, Gustavus P" repeated 
 Winifred, with an air of surprise and even of re- 
 proach, inasmuch as ii struck her for a moment 
 that it was at first his intention to deny that he 
 was married at all. " Did you not go hence with 
 Miss Pinnock, upwards of two months back, to 
 conduct her to the altar ?— were you not seen pro- 
 ceeding together to Doctors' Commons " 
 
 "Who saw us f" demanded Gustavus hastily. 
 
 "It matters not," replied Winifred, now speak- 
 ing with a severe countenance. " Guatavus," she 
 continued, " you appear as if you were inclined to 
 throw some degree of mystery around this parti- 
 cular point your marriage. Why should you 
 
 do so ? There is not the slightest necessity to stand 
 upon any fastidiousness or punctilio with me. In- 
 deed, since you have come to see me, let it be io 
 •11 the frankness of our relative position of cousins 
 —or very dear friends " 
 
 " Yes, let it be so," said Gustavus, who did not 
 appear to have a very happy expression of counte- 
 sance. 
 
 Indeed, as Winifred now surveyed him with 
 more attention than at first, the thought gradually 
 grew into her miod that he had a dissipated look, 
 and that the indications of debauchery and profli- 
 gacy were upon his countenance. Tbe idea dis- 
 tressed her ; and as he threw himself upon a seat 
 with an air of lassitude and languor, she accosted 
 him — she laid her hand upon his shoulder—and 
 looking earnestly into his countenance, she said, 
 "Tell me, Gustavus— I conjure you to tell me,— 
 are you happy in your married state ? are you 
 happy with Emily ?" 
 
 " Happy or miserable," he vehemently ex- 
 claimed ; " by heaven, I cannot tell ! I do not 
 know how I feel — I have almost lost my own iden- 
 tity—I am so altered, Witiifred '' 
 
 " But, my dear cousin," she said, shocked and 
 frightened at the strangeness of his words and 
 looks, " you surely are happy — and Emily is doubt- 
 less a good wifei" I know that she loved you 
 
 dearly — very dearly she came across the ocean 
 
 to seek you " 
 
 "True!" exclaimed Gustavus; and it struck 
 Winifred that a bitter smile crossed his jaded 
 countenance. "There is no more doubt as to her 
 love than there is as to the violence of the fires 
 that agitate within the crater of Vesuvius ! There 
 are fires, Winifred, «hich warm and cheer with 
 their genial heat, anti infuse pleasurable feel- 
 ings into U';e heart. But there are likewise fires 
 which scorch and burn you— which render the at- 
 nosphere oppressive and overpowering " 
 
 " Oh, Gustavus !" murmured Winifred, almost 
 melting into tears, "do you mean me to under* 
 stand from all this that you are not happy ?'* 
 
 " I tell you, Winifred, that I do not know wb»( 
 my feelings are ! I ought to be happy perhapa 
 
 and yet I don't know, but there are times 
 
 when I think th^t I am the most miserable wretch 
 in existence ! But tell me, Winnie," he suddenly 
 interrupted himself; "you received the gold all 
 safe ?" 
 
 " Yes, Gustavus— all safe," she replied : " and 
 let me assure you that the boon you have thus 
 conferred upon your grandfather, constitutes the 
 finest chapter in your life!" 
 
 " Ah ! I was resolved, Winnie," responded Gus- 
 tavus, " that yo^e should have the gold as soon as 
 possible. Emily wished to keep it back until our 
 bands were indissolubly joined, or until we stood 
 upon the deck of a vessel to bear us back to the 
 West Indies : but I vowed that there should ba 
 no delay— I would not even accompany her to 
 procure the marriage-license until the gold was 
 sent hither ;— for amidst alt my grief at that 
 memorable period, Winifred, 1 thought of what- 
 soever atonement I could best make " 
 
 " Gustavus," she interrupted him, "speak of 
 nothing in the form of atonement to myself ! The 
 only feeling I entertain towards you is that of a 
 friendly- a fond intc<rest. But you have not in- 
 quired concerning your grandfather." 
 
 Tell me of him!" ejaculated Qustavus: "is 
 
 ?ell ? has not the gold sufficed " 
 
 To effect his emancipation ? Not yet : there 
 
 have been delays but to-day or to morrow ho 
 
 ivill be free." 
 
 " Oh ! say you so, dear Winifred ? These are 
 ndeed joyous tidings !" — but even as Gustavus 
 ;hus spoke, with au apparent fervour of tone, 
 there was nevertheless a certain abstraction in his 
 ler, — as if other subjects would persist in ob- 
 truding upon the thoughts which he endeavoured 
 " s; upon his young relative who was present, 
 and the image of the old one who was within the 
 prison-walla at a little distance. 
 
 Gustavus," said ATinifred, " I do sincerely 
 hope that you have for some reason or another 
 been deceiving me, when striving to make me 
 fancy that you are not happy in your married con- 
 dition. Toll me that you have been misrepresent- 
 ing and exaggerating " 
 
 " By heaven, my dear cousin," exclaimed Gus- 
 tavus, " I scarcely know what words to use when 
 speaking of Emily! We were married— and we 
 went to Paris : for I know not how it was, but I 
 vowed that I would not immediately cross the At- 
 lantic and return to Jamaica. Emily encouraged 
 me to p'unge icto all kinds of pleasures— that is to 
 say, so long as they were such recreations as she 
 could partake in. She has plenty of money : she 
 made me buy horses and carriages — she forced me 
 to mingle in fashionable society- to give elegant 
 
 entertainments In s'jort, my dear Wini'red, 
 
 tbe two months and upwards which have elapsed 
 since you and I parted, have been a constant whirl 
 of pleasure, until I am sated and palled ^•ith all 
 these delights and blandishments ! There is within 
 me the incessant consciousness that Emily is ever 
 striving tu enmesh me in a perfect web of dissi- 
 pations, recreations, festivities, and amusements, as 
 if I were a child whose good temper suuld only ba
 
 by a constant administration of sugar- 
 plums. I am sick of pleasure !— the penance of a 
 monl£ would be a happy change ! Picture to your- 
 3elf Emily and me when we are alone together. Is 
 there ^ny domestic happiness? — is there the 
 wciable discourse which cught to subsist between 
 husband and wife ? No!— but upon the table you 
 will Eee fruits and champagne — and Emily is to 
 me aduskycompleiioned Hebe, ever filling goblets 
 which she fancies I must be ever ready to quaff! 
 Kow, my dear Winifred, you begin to comprehend 
 something of this life which we lead together ; - 
 and from what you have ever known of me, you 
 may perhaps form a conjecture whether it be the 
 mode of existence best calculated to ensure my 
 happiness." 
 
 Gustavus paused for a few moments, tapping his 
 
 foot upon the carpet with a nervous agitation ; 
 
 while Winifred, much distressed at ad she had thus 
 
 heaid, was nevertheless at a loss vbat remuJc to 
 
 No, 43.— AoKB*. 
 
 make; for it was to a certain extent of a success- 
 ful rival that she was thus hearing the cuaracter 
 given, and she felt herself to be delicately placed. 
 
 " But this is not all," resumed G-ustavus, with a 
 certain degree of abruptness. " Everything goes 
 pleasantly and agreeably enough so long as I agree 
 to float on with the tide of luxury and pleasure on 
 which I find myself cast, — quaffing the sparkling 
 wine whenever it is presented, and steeping all my 
 senses as it were in a fount of dissipation. But 
 if ever I propose some other course— if ever I 
 venture to offer a suggestion that might have fcho 
 
 effect of changing any of Emily's plans Ah! 
 
 then how different does she become! My swarthy 
 Venus of the West Indies demonstrates the fury of 
 a very Juno in her ire " 
 
 " Gustavus, Gustavus !" interrupted Winifred; 
 " I feel that I ought not to listen to all this ! Yet 
 will I «ay one word. Surely you can wield a hus- 
 band's authority "
 
 33^ AQKESJ OE, BEAD 
 
 "Ail— a husband's authoritj !" be ejaculated, 
 will] a Litior smile: "such an authoritj as one of 
 her uucU's own negroes in Jamaica, although 
 callin? himself emancipated, may be supposed to 
 possess over his own destinies! But 1 will not 
 wenry or vex you, Winifred, with the details of the 
 eiislenee that I lead. Suffice it to say that last 
 ni'^bt we arrived in London — this morning I es- 
 caped from E-nily's vigilance— io plain terms 
 stole away while she slept! for I was resolved 
 that I would see you once more, dearest eoU' 
 sio " 
 
 " Ah ! then yon are at length going to Jamaica ?" 
 said Winifred. " Well, it is kind of you, Gus'avus, 
 to think of seeing us again ; for of course you will 
 go and visit your grandfather " 
 
 " Will he not blame me, Winifred ? what ex- 
 cuse did you make on my behalf?" 
 
 " At first I told him that Mr. Pinnock had 
 sent for you from Jamaica — that your departure 
 wa? so hurried you could not poeaibly bid him fare- 
 
 " Ah ! hot about the marriage, Winifred ?" 
 said Gustarus: "what did you tell our grand- 
 sire " 
 
 " I have gradually broken to him the truth," 
 rejoined Winifred, her voice for a moment be- 
 coming tremulous, and then growing firm again. 
 " He now knows all— he will not blame you, Gus- 
 
 tavus- ho will rec*?ive you with open arms 
 
 And, Ah I" exclaimed Winifred as a thought 
 Biruck her, "you shall have the pleasure, my dear 
 eousio, of presenting your aged relative with the 
 talisman of his liberty " 
 
 " What do you mean, Winifred f" inquired 
 Gustavus. 
 
 " Take this packet," she cried,—" hasten to the 
 prison, and tell our venerable grandfather tbut it 
 is the deed which Mr. Timperley held. Oh, then, 
 Gustavus, you will see how fervidly he will embrace 
 you! — and when you depart from England, it will 
 be with the satisfaction of having become the me. 
 dium of infusing so much joy and happiness into 
 the heart of that old man !" 
 
 "Then come with me, dear Winnie," exclaimed 
 Gustavus, "and we will have the satisfaction of 
 together imparting and sharing this happiness 
 whereof you speak !" 
 
 " ISO, my dear cousin," said Winifred, " go you 
 «lone to visit our grandsire. If we went together, 
 he might put questions to you which would be 
 embarrassing to both. Besides, Gustavus, as you 
 are on the point of taking your departure from 
 your native land — as you will settle in another 
 clime— and as perhaps you may never again see 
 
 our grandfather" here Winifred was for an 
 
 instant half-suffocated with emotion, but she 
 
 quickly recovered herself "for all these reasons, 
 
 my dear Gustavus, it were infioitely better that 
 you should go alone— for the more there are present 
 at such a leave.taking, the more affecting and dis- 
 
 "Be it as you say," rejoined Gustavus : " I will 
 go and bid farewell to our grandfather. Then I 
 will return to you, Winnie " 
 
 " I shall await your presence here," said the 
 young lady: "but you must not be long, Gus- 
 tavus, for after all you have told me " 
 
 "Ah! you think that Emily will be looking 
 ifiet me?" he exclaimed, attempting to carry off 
 
 ■T ASP PLEASf BE. 
 
 the idea with a laugh— but it sounded hollow, and 
 its expression on his countenance was sickly. " No 
 — I scarcely think she would go to such an ex- 
 treme But at all events I will be off; and I 
 
 will return to you, Winnie, as soon as possible." 
 
 Thus speaking, Gustavus secured about his 
 person the packet containing the precious deed ; 
 and he quitted Mrs. SUter's house. He was hur- 
 rying along Aldersgate Street in the direction of 
 the nearest turning that would lead him to White- 
 cross Street Prison, when he suddenly encountered 
 his wife ! She had a veil over her face, but through 
 it be at once recognised that superbly handsome 
 countenance, with its dusky complexion ; and even 
 if that veil had been of impenetrable thickness, he 
 would have recognised her all the same by the 
 admirable symmetry of her form, even though she 
 might be wearing a costume in which he had never 
 seen her apparelled before. 
 
 " Xow," he instantaneously tSought to himself, 
 " for a storm of passion ! But heaven defend me 
 from a scene in the streets ! ' 
 
 How great therefore was the surprise of Gus- 
 tavus, when Emily on accosting htm threw up her 
 vei!, and said with a smile of indescribable sweet- 
 ness, " S J you have been to see your relations, 
 Gustavus? Tuu were right. But why, my dear 
 husband, did you not make me aware of your in- 
 teotioDS, so that I might have had the pleasure of 
 accompanying y'">u ?" 
 
 " Why, the truth is, my dear Emily," responded 
 Gustavus, "you were sleeping so soundly that I 
 did not like to awake you: so I thought I would 
 
 steal off before breakfast " 
 
 "To be sure!" said the quadroon, taking her 
 husband's arm. " And have you seen vour grand- 
 father ?■' 
 
 "No, not yet— but I have seen my cousin 
 
 Winifred you know " and Gustavus b^^sitated 
 
 somewhat, as if he fancied there was a little jea- 
 lous « upon this poin^, and that he was therefore 
 treading upon delicate ground. 
 
 And he was right ; for a fl'ish suddenly crossed 
 the dusky countenance of the quadroon, whih? fires 
 flashed from her luminous eyes ; and she muriiiured 
 to herself, "Ah ! be sees his cjusin Wiuifred Jirst, 
 before he visits the old man !"— then raising btr 
 looks, which had in an inst«nt becouje siuiling 
 again, she said, " And is your cousin Winifred quite 
 well ? is she still living at the same place ? an.J has 
 she as yet made use of the gold ?" 
 
 " She is quite well— she is still living at the 
 same place — and as for the gold, my dear E-oily, 
 it will almost immediately be used to effect my 
 grandfather's liberation. I am now going to the 
 
 prison to see the old man " 
 
 How I should like to accompany you!" ex- 
 claimed Emily. "To form the acquaintance of 
 venerable and much persecuted relation of 
 
 yours " 
 
 "Oh, Emily I are you serious?" cried Gustavus 
 in an enthusiastic paroxysm of joy. " A thousand 
 
 thanks for the kind interest you thus take " 
 
 Thanks, Gustavus?— doyou speak of thanks?" 
 
 asked Emily, in a tone which may be described as 
 
 y reproachful. " Is it not a duty which I am 
 
 performing to display an interest in your venerable 
 
 relative, as well as 1 feel an interest ia everything 
 
 that concerns you ?" 
 
 Ah! you ares dear good Emily, after all I"
 
 BEAUTT AlfD PLKASUEB. 
 
 Mid GustaTUS, now gazing wilU impassion 
 TOur upon tho remarkablj handsome 
 of the quadroon, while he felt her glowing hosom 
 beating against his arm as she clung to it. 
 
 "Well, GustaTUS," she said, "I think that if I 
 have a fault it is loving jou too devotedly ! If at 
 limes there have been paroxyms of anger on my 
 part — displays of temper " 
 
 "Do not allude to them, Emily!" said Gus- 
 taTUS, whose heart was so easily brought into com- 
 plete subjection beneath the fascinating powers of 
 the beautiful quadroon : " the kindness of your 
 present conduct is atoning for everything ! Come 
 —we are now on our way to the prison — and 
 then afterwards, Emily, I must just return for a 
 moment to my cousin's lodgings — but only for a 
 momenr, you know, just to bid her farewell — and 
 you can come with me if you like " 
 
 " Oh, I will go anywhere with you," said Emily ; 
 "but we must first return to the hotel — — " 
 
 " Eetarn to the hotel first ? ' asked QuslaTus. 
 
 " Yes, assuredly," rejoined tho quadroon. " I 
 have not partaken of any breakfast — neither haTe 
 jou — I am faint — and you must be famished " 
 
 " But it will not take us long, dearest Emily, to 
 make these calls : and since we are in the neigh- 
 
 " AVell, my beloTed husband," she interrupted 
 him, " I feel at this moment as if I could do any- 
 thing to oblige you : but really you must suffer me 
 to have my own way in one little respect. Tou 
 are about to introduce me to your grandfather ; 
 and is it not natural that I should desire to win 
 his good opinion — to appear before him with my 
 best looks " 
 
 " And when did you eTcr look more charming 
 Ihan you do at this moment, Emily ?" asked Gus- 
 taTUS, surveying with iutensest admiration the 
 beautiful countenance of his quadroon wife. 
 
 •' Ah ! you are kind to say so," rejoined Emily, 
 with one of her sweetest smiles ; " but I do not 
 fee! like myself in this plain morning dress— with 
 my hair only hurriedly arranged — with not a 
 single particle of jewellery about my person " 
 
 "You never looked handsocer, Emily;— and in 
 Jamaica I often used to think that you were most 
 ravisbingly beautiful when simply clad in your 
 white dress and your large straw hat—" 
 
 " But we are not in Jamaica now," interrupted 
 the quadroon, with a smile : " we are in a country 
 where much stress is placed upon suitable and de- 
 cent apparel. Xow tiierefure, Gustavus, let me 
 have my own way : we will return to the hotel— 
 we will partake of breakfast— I will then dress my- 
 self in a suitable manner— and we will proceed to 
 visit your grandfather, as well as your cousin 
 Winifred. ' 
 
 " Well, be it so," saiJ the young man, who by 
 this time was quite accustomed to yield to the 
 wishes of his wife, as she herself was accustomed to 
 enforce her own will either by means of winning 
 cajoleries or impetuous outbursts of passion. 
 
 " After all," thought Gustavus to himself, " it 
 will only be the delay of about an hour— or an 
 hour and a half; and that will be no consequence. 
 Besides, Emily is in such an unusually good 
 humour, and has suddenly taken such a fancy to- 
 wards my relaliTes, that it would be a perfect sin 
 to say or do aught to ruffle her temper." 
 
 The hotel at which they bad established their 
 
 S3» 
 
 temporary quarters, was in the City, and &i no 
 very great distance from the spot where they had 
 encountered each other. They had only arriTed in 
 London at a late hour on the preceding evening ; 
 they were then much fatigued, and they were not 
 therefore inclined to repair to any great distance 
 before retiring to rest. Besides, Emily had aa. 
 other reason for remaining in the City in prefer- 
 ence to patronising a West End hotel. This was 
 because the firm of Millard and Co., Sir. Pinnock's 
 London correspondents, had a ship just ready to 
 clear out from the West India Docks,— a circum- 
 stance which had been priTately communicated 
 to the quadroon, and of which she was resolved to 
 take advantage. Indeed, this was the principal 
 consideration which had induced her to suggest 
 that they should stay at a City hotel, instead of 
 proceeding to more fashionable quarters. 
 
 The hotel was soon reached : the husband and 
 wife ascended to the private sitting-room which 
 they had hired — and breakfast was served up. 
 Emily exerted all her powers to please and fasci- 
 nate Gustavus— to render herself agreeable to him 
 — and to put him in such an excellent humour as 
 should induce him to do ample justice to the re- 
 past. He fell completely into the way in which 
 her wiles tended to lead him ; and when he had 
 partaken of his coffee, it required little or no press- 
 ing on her part to make him imbibe a glass or two 
 of liqueur. He then felt a drowsiness coming over 
 him : Emily affected to be impressed with the con- 
 viction that he was unwell — that he was suffering 
 from indigestion, or from the fatigues of recent 
 travelling— that ho must therefore go to bed and 
 rest himself. Gustavus was too much overpowered 
 by the soporific drug which Emily had mixed 
 with the Uqtieur, to think or act for himself: ha 
 had but a dim recollection of the proposed visit to 
 be made to his grandfather— he suffered Emily to 
 lead him to the chamber, where she helped to dis- 
 apparel him— he lay down en the couch— and in a 
 few minutes was wrapped in a profound stupor. 
 
 When Emily was assured that her husband 
 slept thus deeply, she put on her bonnet and 
 shawl ; and hastened forth from the hotel. She 
 proceeded hy the Blackwall Eailway to the West 
 India Docks ; and there she instituted every requi- 
 site inquiry respecting the vessel belonging to the 
 firm of Millard and Co. which was ready to sail. 
 She had an interview with the captain, in whose 
 hands she placed a liberal bribe ; and a speedy un. 
 derstanding was arriTed at between them. 
 
 " You be prepared, ma'am, to night betweea 
 nine and ten o'clock," said the captain, at the ter- 
 mination of the conference ; " and all shall bo 
 carried into effect as you propose. I sha'nt send 
 any of my sailors, because it is a thing that might 
 be talked of afterwards— and that is what I would 
 rather aToid : but there's always a lot of fellows 
 hanging about tho docks that will do any job for a 
 bribe— and I will trust the business to two or 
 three of them." 
 
 Emily, having settled matters to her satisfao- 
 tion with the captain of the ship, returned to the 
 hotel. Gustavus was still sleeping ; and as she 
 bent over him, she thought within herself, '-Yes — 
 this is the only plan ! His mind will continua 
 restless so long as he remains near those relatives 
 of his : he will never be completely tranquil and 
 happy until he is again at Mount Pleasant, f jor
 
 340 
 
 AOIES ; OS, BEAUTT iJtD PLEAICmi. 
 
 C'<i->tdTus! it i^rieres me thus to deal with thee: 
 I jC vfu»c am I CO do P Thiae heart still seems to 
 have a slight secret jearniog towards Winifred— 
 and I must tear thee away from her ! Yuu must 
 be wholly tniue—Dol partially ! If 1 were to lire 
 on with the eoDTiction that th; remembrances and 
 tbv thoughts are tending towards another, I should 
 go mad — I could not endure it ! No, no— I could 
 
 Emily stood by the side of the couch for some 
 minutes, watching the face of her sleeping bus* 
 baud ; and then consulting her watch, she found 
 that it was past the hour of noon. She proceeded 
 to dress herself in handsome apparel ; and she pre- 
 •enlly ordered luncheon to be spread upon the 
 table in the sitting-room. Between one and two 
 o'clocic Gustavus awoke— or rather he began by 
 degrees to shake off the drowsiness which a pro- 
 found slumber &om soporific effects had left 
 behind it. Emily was by his side, to lavish 
 caresses upon him — to charm him with her bland- 
 ishments. There she was, his beautiful quadroon 
 wife, — radiant with smiles — assuring him that he 
 now looked quite well — that the sleep bad evidently 
 refreshed him — and that it was fortunate he had 
 taken her advice and .yielded to that inclination for 
 repose. Gustavus suspected not that the liqueur 
 had been drugged : he could not suppose Emily 
 capable of such a piece of wickedness ; and there- 
 fore the idea did not for a single instant enter his 
 head. Oo the contrary, he firmly believed that he 
 must have been seixed with a sudden indisposition. 
 He did not however feel quite so well as Emily 
 assured him that he looked : he was languid— he 
 experienced a disinclination to exert himself : 
 there was a certain sinking at the heart and a 
 faintness at the stomach, as if he required a stimu- 
 lant. It was therefore with no great difficulty that 
 the quadroon persuaded him, so soon as be was 
 again dressed, to sit down and partake of the 
 luncheon which was ready served in the adjoining 
 
 " Tes," said Gustavus, " I do indeed feel as it I 
 needed refreshment. But after lunch, Emily, we 
 must really delay not in paying those visits " 
 
 " Tou see, my dear Gustavus, that I am ready 
 dressed for the purpose," answered Emily. " Toere 
 is plenty of time— we will tell your grandfather 
 that you were eeiied with some slight India- 
 
 " But Wmifred will think it strange that I have 
 suffered these hours to elapse without calling at 
 the prison: — and then too there is a document of 
 some importance which Winifred gave me, and 
 which I put in my pocket " 
 
 " Do not distress yourself upon these points," 
 said his quadroon wife: ''it is no more than two 
 o'c'ock, and by three o'clock we will be at the 
 prison. Hecline upon that sofa, my dear Gus- 
 tavus- partake of the champagne— it will exhila- 
 rate and refresh you ; and you will be in all the 
 better spirits for the interview with your grand- 
 
 But instead of acquiring energy and strength to 
 seek that interview, Gustavus experienced the 
 sense of drowsiness returning upon him: he en- 
 deavoured to shake it off— but he could not, — and 
 perhaps all the less because his head was now 
 pillowed upon bis wife's bosum, and it was delight- 
 ful thus to repose in the arms of the beautiful 
 
 again .lep. 
 
 quadroon. In a few miuutes Gua! 
 profoundly. 
 
 When he awoke, candles were burning in the 
 apartment — the cloth was laid for dinner — th« 
 plate and the glass were reflecting the rays of those 
 wailights. The curtains were closed — a cheerful 
 fire was biasing in the grate— the wine sparkled io 
 the decanters upon the snow-white table-cloth 
 And there sat Emily, now in evening costume— for 
 she bad again changed her apparel; and la the 
 eyes of her husband she looked more wondrously 
 beautiful than ever. Her arms were naked almost 
 to the shoulders; and how superbly modelled wero 
 those arms I— how robustly rounded, and yet how 
 perfect in their symmetry I— how warm and glow- 
 ing even to the look ! Warm and glowing likewise 
 were the rich contours of that bust which the low 
 corsage of the dress half-revealed; and in contrast 
 with the duskiness of the skin there was a necklace 
 of pearls, defining the luxuriant shape of the 
 bosom on which it rested. How clear, how trans- 
 parent was that skin 1— how finely grained in its 
 olive hue ! And her hair was all flowing in its 
 jetty luxuriance upon her sloping shoulders and 
 down her back ; and the light of the wax candles 
 shining upon her countenance showed the delicate 
 aquihne configuration of the profile, and set off the 
 moist redness of the lips — affording a glimpse 
 likewise of the teeth of ivory whiteness, as those 
 lips were slightly apart. And her eyes— those 
 large luminous handsome eyes — were at first half- 
 curtained beneath their long thick ebon fringes; 
 and then tuey were slowly bent upon Gustavus to 
 see if he were still sleeping. 
 
 When Emily perceived that his eyes were open, 
 and that as he lay upon the sofa he was surveying 
 her with impassioned admiration, she uttered an 
 ejaculation of joy — she flew towards him— those 
 warm glowing arms were clasped around his neck 
 —and his face was pressed to that warm glowing 
 bosom. Then she bent over him— she lavished 
 kiises upon his lips, his cheeks, and his brow — she 
 tapped his face with all the appearance of affec 
 tionate playfulness— and her large luminous eyes 
 looked down into the depths of bis own, as if re- 
 flecting as well as infusing the unspeakable tender- 
 ness that filled her heart. 
 
 "Dearest Gus," she said, after a little while, 
 " do you know that I have been uneasy on your 
 account ? — for I did not like these fits of drowsi- 
 ness. Tou have been again slumbering for hours : 
 It is now six o'clock in the evening " 
 
 *' Ob, my poor grandfather I how I have neg- 
 lected him !" exclaimed Gustavus. "And Winifred 
 — what must she think ? And that document 
 too " 
 
 "Djnot make yourself uneasy, dearest Gus," 
 said Eoiily. "I have sent kind messages to both 
 — [ have sent the packet likewise — yes, to Mr. 
 Bjrrington " 
 
 '■ Ob, how thoughtful of you '. — how good ! ho» 
 generous 1" cried the young man, fervidly eia» 
 bracing his beautiful quadroon wife. 
 
 " But this b not all," continued Emily. " I 
 tell you that I was uneasy in respect to this re- 
 newed slumber on your part— I sent for a surgeon 
 —and Ob, Gustavus 1 you can imagine what a re- 
 lief it was to my mind when I was assured that 
 there was nothing to fear — nothing to apprehend 
 —and that to-morrow you would be entirely your-
 
 AOITES : Oi, BEAVTT AKD PIBASUBB. 
 
 841 
 
 8«lf again. Besides, I am sure jou feel better 
 now— do jou not?" 
 
 " Infinitely better," answered Gustavus : then 
 looking at the snowy table-cloth, and the shining 
 plate, and the glittering wine — all aeetning to give 
 promise of an excellent repast— he added, " And 
 I feel too, Emily, as if 1 could do justice to the 
 dinner." 
 
 " We will haye it served up at once— for it is 
 past six o'clock, I declare !" exclaimed the qua- 
 droon, looking at her watch. 
 
 The bell was rung accordingly— the repast was 
 served up ; and as again Gustavus experienced a 
 certain languor banging about him — a certain 
 sinking at the heart and sickness at the stomach, 
 he had recourse to stimulants to remove those un- 
 easy sensations. Thus so far as he was concerned, 
 the champagne flowed with considerable freedom; 
 while Emily appeared to be taking her own share 
 of the exhilarating beverage, though in reality she 
 drank but little. Yet more luminous, if possible, 
 grew her large black eyes — more richly mantled 
 the blood through the diaphanous duskiness of her 
 complexion — and more sensuously tender seemed 
 the smiles which parted hpr moist red lips : more 
 musical than ever appeared the tones of her fluid 
 Toice. Gustavus was completely under the empire 
 of her fascinations ; and when she said to him, 
 " It is too late now to think of visiting your 
 grandsire," — he readily answered, " Yes, dearest, 
 we will see the poor old man the tirst thing after 
 breakfast to-morrow." And when she said to 
 him, " Your cousin, you know, will not ba uneasy 
 at your absence, as the message I sent will have 
 accounted for it,"— Gustavus replied, '■ So long as 
 I know that Winifred is not uneasy, I would 
 rather remain here alone with you, my beloved 
 and beautiful Emily, than think of going else- 
 where!" 
 
 Perhaps the reader will scarcely require to be 
 informed that Emily was playing a game of com- 
 pletest duplicity. She had sent fur no medical at- 
 tendance whatsoever, because she had perfectly 
 well known under what influences Gustavus bad 
 been sleeping, and she was not therefore uneasy 
 on his account, ^'either had she sent any mes- 
 sages to old ilr. Barrington or Winifred. Her 
 only object was to keep her husband away from 
 those relatives: she valued not their feelings— she 
 cared not for them, so intense was her own self, 
 ishness ; and so far from forwarding any message 
 to them, she was careful not to afford them the 
 slightest clue to the hotel where Gustavus and 
 herself were staying. For in the course of con- 
 rersation during the walk home to that hotel in 
 the morning, Emily had dexterously gleaned from 
 Gustavus the fact that he had not mentioned his 
 present address to his cousin Winifred. Gustavus 
 had said something to Emily about a document 
 of importance which he was charged to deliver to 
 his old grandsire ; and the quadroon would really 
 have sent it to Mr. Barrington, were it not for 
 the reason alreody mentioned— namely, that she 
 was afraid of afl'jrding any clue to the present 
 whereabouts of Gustavus. She had found the 
 packet in his coat-pocket ; and she had locked it 
 up in one of her own trunks, with the intention of 
 leaving it in charge of the hotel-waiter the last 
 thing ere her departure, so that it might be for- 
 warded on the ensuing day to its destination. 
 
 The cloth having been removed, the dessert was 
 placed upon the table ; and Emily had taken care 
 that all the most costly fruits should be provided 
 so as to please the eye and tempt the appetite ol 
 her husband— for her great object was now to 
 keep him with her, and to induce him to drink 
 copiously of the champagne which was served up, 
 and which was a wine whereof he was particularly 
 fond. She exerted all her own powers to pleaso, 
 to fascinate, and to ravish him— so that he was 
 as much intoxicated with the blandishments of his 
 syren-wife as with the exhilarating juice of Eper- 
 nay. At length, in a condition of the completest 
 ehriety, he sank back upon the sofa, and fell into 
 the utter unconsciousness of slumber. 
 
 A smile of indescribable triumph now appeared 
 upon the rich red lips of the quadroon ; and her 
 luminous black eyes flashed with a kindred fire. 
 She looked at her watch ; and she ejaculated 
 within herself, " They will soon be here !" 
 
 In a few minutes a waiter entered the room, 
 saying, " If you please, ma'am, two men have 
 come in all haste from the West India Docks !" 
 
 " Indeed !" ejaculated Emily, as if taken by 
 surprise. " From the X)ocks ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am— for it seems that all the passen- 
 gers who have taken berths in Mr. Millard's ship, 
 must be on board before midnight. So the Cap- 
 tain has sent these men to bring this notice, and 
 to fetch your luggage " 
 
 " Good heavens, how provoking 1" exclaimed 
 Emily, glancing towards the sleeping Gustavus, 
 with a well. affected air of mingled annoyance and 
 mortification. " It would be useless to conceal 
 from you," she continued, thus addressing the 
 waiter, " that Mr. Barrington has taken too much 
 
 of your good wine indeed he is completely 
 
 overcome by it ! hours must elapse before he will 
 be sufficiently recovered to awake " 
 
 " Well, ma'am," said the waiter, " if it is abso- 
 lutely necessary for you to go by this ship " 
 
 " We have taken our berths in it !— the money 
 is paid !" exclaimed Emily. " Look ! here are tha 
 receipts!" 
 
 " Well, ma'am," resumed the waiter, " there is 
 but one course to adopt— begging pardon for the 
 boldness with which I offer the advice— but those 
 two men who have come in the cab can easily 
 convey the gentleman down-stairs " 
 
 " Ah ! but the exposure !" exclaimed Emily, 
 clasping her bauds as if in despair : " the idea of 
 being thus disgraced and degraded " 
 
 "There is a private staircase, ma'am," said tho 
 waiter; "and if you will leave it to me, every- 
 thing shall bo contrived for the very best." 
 
 "Yes," she said; "it is the only alternative! 
 I am greatly obliged to you — manage the matter 
 as you have suggested— and I will reward yott 
 liberally." 
 
 " Are the trunks and boxes all ready, ma'am i" 
 inquired the waiter. 
 
 •' Yes — nearly so. But let these men get my 
 husband away at once : they can take two or three 
 of the heaviest trunks with them— and I will pre- 
 sently follow in another cab with the remainder.'.' 
 
 The waiter quitted the room; and in a few 
 moments the two men who had been hired for 
 this particular service, made their appearance, 
 fiiising Gustavus in their arms, they wrapped 
 him in a large cloak — thoy carried him
 
 S42 
 
 AOKES; OB, BEA1TTT AHD FLEA.aUBE. 
 
 upon the 
 
 I readi- 
 
 landing— there the wi 
 oduct them to the private staircase— 
 and in a few more instants the unconscious Gus- 
 taTus nas safely stowed away in the cab. Mean* 
 while the hotel-porter was conTcying down-stairs 
 such of Emily's boxes as appeared to be in readi- 
 ness for removal ; while she was pre()ariDg to 
 settle the hotel bill which had just been presented 
 to her. The accommodating waiter quickly re- 
 appear* d ; and Emily, on paying the account, be- 
 stowed upon him a liberal reward. She then 
 passed into the bed chamber to make certain re- 
 quisite changes in her toilet previous to embarka- 
 tion. She now recollected tho document which 
 was to have been delivered to old Mr. Barrington, 
 but which she had locked up in one of her trunks. 
 Alas! the very trunk in which she had thus 
 secured that packet, was amongst those which had 
 been already sent away. Emily was now for a 
 moment frightened : she knew not what injury 
 might result from this oversight. But she quickly 
 reflected that when on board the vessel she might 
 take the packet from the box, and discover some 
 means of forwarding it, unknown to her husband, 
 to Wliitecross Street Prison. Eeassured by this 
 reflection, Emily hastened to put off her evening 
 costume and to apparel herself in thick warm rai. 
 ment. She then departed from the hotel, taking 
 the remnant of her luggage with her ; and in due 
 time she reached the "U'est India Docks. 
 
 Her husband was sleeping in his berth on board 
 the ship. Poor Gustavus ! little suspected he in 
 his dreams how the selljsh feelings of his quadroon 
 wife had engendered so many machinations, to the 
 duplicity of which he was not the only victim ! 
 little suspected he that at that very hour his 
 cousin Winifred was almost like a distracted being 
 — and that his grandsire was weeping in his prison 
 chamber— all because of that sudden disappear- 
 ance which was so inexplicable to them both ! 
 
 Emily lost no time in applying to the Captain 
 of the ship in respect to the boxes which she had 
 first of all sent on hoard. She was informed that 
 they had been let down into the huld, and that it 
 was impossible to get at them, as quantities of 
 other merchandise bad since been lowered into the 
 tame place. 
 
 " Why, ma'am," said the Captain, " I thought 
 you knew very well that all such luggage as you 
 did not want for your use during the voyage, 
 must be thus stowed away. So, when those men 
 came with your husband, and said they had also 
 brought the heavy boxes, and that you would 
 follow in another cab with the lighter ones, I took 
 it for granted that those which came first were to 
 go below." 
 
 " But it is of importance," said Emily, " that I 
 should have access to one of those trunks." 
 
 " It couldn't be done now if you was to give me 
 a hundred guineas," answered the Captain. " Mr. 
 Millard will be on board r.irectly, to give his last 
 iLStructions ; and as I think you said you didn't 
 ant to see him, you had better get below, 
 -"Sam, at once. Besides, your husband may want 
 .0 -king to." 
 
 "True !" said Eocily : and she descended to the 
 cabin, where Gustavus lay plunged iu a condition 
 of complete unconsciousness. 
 
 Emily was deeply vexed at this incident in re- 
 spect to the sealed packet. In bei 
 
 I keep her husband beyond the sphere of that in- 
 I fluence which she feared or fancied his relatives 
 I might be enabled to exercise over him, she by no 
 J means intended to do any direct and positive 
 wrong towards either of those persons. But 
 now she apprehended that she had been un- 
 guardedly led into some such instance of wrong- 
 doing ; and she was at first materially vexed— 
 [ nay, even distressed. But her's was a mind which 
 was not likely to suffer little evils to annoy it fof 
 any lengthened period, when it had so much 
 cause for rejoicing at a great triumph that had 
 been achieved ; and she therefore consoled herself 
 by mentally ejaculating, "Well, it cannot be 
 , helped ! X must keep the untoward incident a 
 complete secret from Gustavus; and on arriving 
 at Kingston the first thing to do will be tha 
 transmission of the packet back to England by 
 some trustworthy hand !" 
 
 CnAPIEK LVII. 
 
 P Ki 
 
 iPOETl 
 
 rza. 
 
 Wis I 
 
 BED BiEniXGTOS remained at her lodg- 
 raiting the return oi her cousin Guslavas 
 she fancied to be at Wbitecross Street 
 Prison. For some time she remained plunged in 
 a painful reverie. It was evident that Gustavui 
 was not happy in his married state, and that the 
 hot blood of the quadroon boiled with those strong 
 
 ] passions which were but little calculated to eusura 
 domestic peace. Winifred was profoundly atHictedl 
 
 ; at the thought that Gustavus should have wedded 
 
 j misery, for which even the acquisition of wealth 
 
 ' was not an indemnification ; and there was A 
 moment when Miss Barrington could not help 
 thinking within herself, " It is a retribution 
 
 ; for his conduct towards me !" But the next 
 
 , instant the generous girl repudiated the idea— she 
 even felt distressed as well as ashamed of herself 
 
 I for having entertained it— and she strove to turn 
 
 ; her thougUts into another channel. 
 
 i " Gustavus is now with his grandsire !" she 
 said to herself. " Oh .' how fondly have they em- 
 braced! and the poor old man's heart is warming 
 towards him ! And they have much to talk of! 
 Tea— and Gustavus has much to explain, if indeed 
 
 ' ha will suffer himself to be led into explanations! 
 But it were better not— Oh, it were better not ! Let 
 the simple fact suiEce for our grandsire as I myself 
 have mentioned it,— yes, the simple fact that Gus- 
 tavus has espoused the quadroon Emily and 
 
 in reference to his conduct towards me no- 
 thing i" 
 
 I While Winifred is giving way to her refleclions, 
 we will avail ourselves of the opportunity to afford 
 the reader a few necessary explanations. At first 
 when the gold arrived in England, tho utmost re- 
 serve had been maintained towards old Mr. Bar- 
 rington, inasmuch as it was apprehended that he 
 would insist upon embarking all the newly acquired 
 wealth in the prosecu'ian of his lawsuit. But 
 since his affairs had been placed in the hands of 
 Messrs. Cartwright, and under the supervision of 
 Mr. Wardour, it gradually became plainer and 
 plainer that his cause was b good one, and if pro- 
 perly and expeditiously conducted it must evi-
 
 lOSSS; OB, BBAUTT AHD FLEASnBB. 
 
 ai3 
 
 dentl; result in success. Thus b; degrees the 
 truth was broken to Mr. Barrington : it was re- 
 presented to bim that his affairs were being un- 
 ravelled — that his emancipation from gaol would 
 probabi? be the first triumph to be celebrated 
 —and that the gaining of his tedious Chancery 
 suit would perhaps become a worthy sequence. 
 "While these revelations were thus being made to 
 the old man, he was at the sime time permitted 
 to obtain an insight into the fact that many thou- 
 sands of pounds were standing in AVinifred's name ' 
 in the Bank of England, and that the bulk of this 
 little fortune would be absorbed in the liquidation 
 of the judgment-debts which detained him in 
 prison. Fiuaily, after a time, the whole position 
 of his affairs was revealed to him ; and amidst all 
 other details he was made aware of the circum- 
 etance that an imporlant deed must be forthcom- 
 ing from Mr. Timperley's hands ere the prison- 
 doors could be thrown open to afford bim egress. 
 
 Notwithstanding the caution with which all 
 these circumstances had been gradiently and suc- 
 cessively explained to Mr. Barrington, they had 
 nevertheless so eicited him at limes that 'W'mifred 
 almost wished a full and complete reserve had 
 been maintained until everything was accomplished. 
 But on the other hand she reflected that it was 
 absolutely necessary thus to prepare the old roan 
 for the final issue of all his difficulties and em- 
 barassments, inasmuch as the effect might be too 
 great for him if everything were made known at 
 once. Slill the anticipation of personal liberty 
 first of all, and then of victory in respect to his 
 lawsuit, was almost more than sufficient to drive 
 Mr. Barrington crazy with joy ; and he was now 
 more excited, if possible, with happiness at the 
 prospect of that suit's speedy termination, than he 
 had ever been by aiiliction on account of its delays. 
 On the particular morning of which we are 
 now writing— namely, that when "Winifred was 
 cherishing the belief that Gustavus was with her 
 grandsire — the old man himself was walking to 
 and fro in the gaol-yard, while some poorer pri- 
 soner was preparing his breakfast. Wmnie had 
 always taken care that he should be as decently 
 dressed as her means would permit : but now he 
 was well dressed. He had coveted a black velvet 
 skullcap with a golJ tassel— and he possessed it : 
 he had coveted a particular kind of flowered silk 
 dressing-gown — and he possessed it. He had 
 then ventured to ask for a silver watch : his wish 
 had been more than attended to, for Winifred had 
 purchased him a gold one. And now a nice little 
 breakfast was being prepared for him ; the eggs 
 were boiling — the ham was broiling— the coffee 
 was simmering — the rolls were keeping hot before 
 the fire — and on one of the tables in the ward a 
 snowy napkin (supplied by "Winifred) was spread 
 — and the said snowy napkin was embellished by 
 a neat little tea-service. In a word. Mr. Barring- 
 ton enjoyed everything as comfortably as one 
 could possibly find his little domestic affairs thus 
 conducted within the walls of a gaol. 
 
 " And 1 tell you what I shall do, Bobus," said 
 Mr. Barrington, to another elderly prisoner with 
 whom he was walking in the court-yard, while the 
 , breakfast was being gotten in readiness as just 
 described,—" I shall give a grand dinner to all 
 the inmates of my ward— roast beef and plum- 
 pudding, and a pot of porter each, £abu3— ^" 
 
 " Or ale, according to taste," suggested Mr. 
 Kobus, " because some don't drink porter — and 
 I'm one who don't." 
 
 " \^'ell, ale or porter," exclaimed old Barring- 
 son, " it is just the same to me — you shall have 
 your choice, my boy ! I remember having told 
 Winnie over and over again that I should give 
 such a banquet when I get my discbarge " 
 
 " But it has not come yet, you know, Mr. Bar- 
 rington," interjected Eobus, who being himself an 
 old gaol- bird, had become saturated with all the 
 petty envies and jealousies which flourish in small 
 "ties, like weeds of rankest luxuriance in 
 ited marshy spots ;— and therefore Mr. Eobus 
 ardly hoped that Mr. Barrington would not 
 obtain his discharge, and would not have an oppor- 
 tunity of giving the grand banquet whereof he 
 was speaking. 
 
 "No— I haven't got it yet," exclaimed Wini- 
 fred's grandfather ; " but I shall have it in a day 
 or two: 80 don't be afraid, llobus — you'll get 
 your roast beef and plum-pudding and your pot of 
 the best ale !" 
 
 " Well, we shall see. By the bye, Mr. Bar- 
 rington, I think I have heard you say on more 
 occasions than one that you never would leave 
 this place unless your own carriage came to fetch 
 you ? I suppose that part of the business won't 
 hold good ?" 
 
 " Bjt it will, though !" exclaimed the old man, 
 stopping short and rubbing his hands : " I tell 
 you that it will, though! Tes— Winifred told 
 me so yesterday ! — she assured me it should be 
 
 "Well, I only hope it may," rejoined Mr. 
 Eobus, with that sort of dry tone and cynical 
 mistrustful air which are as much as to imply 
 that the individual hopes the very contrary will 
 be the case. 
 
 "And we shall have a fine house, Eobus," con- 
 tinued old Barrington j " and we shall invite all 
 our friends— and when you get out of this place, 
 you shall come and dine with us — and you and I 
 will crack a bottle together while talking of old 
 times and past events." 
 
 " Ah ! we'll crack the bottle when all this takes 
 place, — that you are free and I am free, and you 
 are in a large house of your own:"— and then 
 Mr. Robus hummed an air, which seemed as mucL 
 as to imply as if he thought all these eventualitiet 
 to be likely to be postponed until " the bloom 
 should be upon the rye." 
 
 " And as for those Dilhams," suddenly ex. 
 claimed old Barrington, " if ever I meet either of 
 them, father or son " 
 
 " Well, you'll ask them to crack a bottle with 
 you," said Mr. Eobus, who on this particular 
 morning was more than usually prone to be ill- 
 natured in his remarks— perhaps because his own 
 prospects were more than usually dismal and 
 dreary. 
 
 " I drink wine with them !" almost yelled forth 
 old Barrington: "I drink wine with the Dal- 
 bams ! No ! — I would sooner peris"! of a burning 
 thirst in the midst of a desert ! I drink wino . 
 with the Dalhams '. Why, that means to shake 
 hands with them— to be friendly with them— to 
 forgive them all the past " 
 
 " Well, of course it does !" said Mr. Ejbus. 
 " And do you mean to pretend that if jou do
 
 AGSS3 J OB, BBACTT AKD PLBA3UKB. 
 
 etcr bflppon to get free, you won't be reftdy to 
 shake bands in jour joy with all the world— not 
 even excepting Jack Ketch himself ?" 
 
 " With all the world except two persons !" an- 
 swered old Barrington emphatically; "and Jack 
 Ketch is not one of those persons — and Mr. Tim- 
 perley is not another,— though the former be the 
 most loathsome of human creatures, and the latter 
 as great a villain as ever walked on two legs. But 
 Btill, on the day of obtaining my liberty, I would 
 shake hands with even them ! The two excep- 
 tiona that I make" — and here old Barrington 
 looked earnestly with bis keen eyes upon the 
 countenance of his companion Eobus, while his 
 angular features seemed to grow more peaked 
 with malignant spite, like those of a vixenish 
 woman while giving way to her ill temper, — " the 
 two exceptions are Sir John Dalham and Boderick 
 Dalham." 
 
 " Ah, well— we shall see," said Mr. Eohus, 
 shrugging his shoulders, as much as to imply that 
 be never put faith in vows that were strongly or 
 rashly taken. 
 
 " Yes— you will see!" exclaimed the old cap- 
 live. " How many thousands and thousands of 
 times have I taken this oath within myself! — how 
 many hundreds of times have I even gone down 
 upon my knees, and invoked heaven's curses upon 
 me if I ever deviated from that course of bitter 
 burning enmity — of fierce unquenchable rancour— 
 towards the hated Dalhams!" 
 
 " Well then, Mr. Barrington, I think you have 
 done very wrong," said Mr. Eobus ; " for whenever 
 J go down upon my knees — which I am sorry to 
 eay is not very often — it is to ask for blessings on 
 my own bead, instead of curses on the beads of 
 my enemies. I haven't time for too much prayer 
 —so I think of Number One first." 
 
 At this moment the poor prisoner who acted as 
 Mr. Barriogton's servitor, came forward to an- 
 nounce that the breakfast was served up ; end the 
 -old captive accordingly proceeded to his uioruiDg's 
 meal. When it was over, he sat r.-uding the 
 newspaper for about an hour : then looking at his 
 watch, and finding that it was eleven o'clock, he 
 began to wonder that Winifred did not make her 
 appearance. He returned into the court-yard to 
 walk with Mr. Eobus: but in about half-anhour 
 Winifred was descried hastening towards her 
 grandfather. 
 
 " My dearest girl — my sweetest Winnie," ex- 
 claimed the old man, "you are unusually late " 
 
 " Is it possible, my dear grandfather, that Gus- 
 tavus has not been ? The turnkey assures 
 me " 
 
 "Gustavus? — No, Winnie!" cried Mr. Bar- 
 rington in amazement. 
 
 " And the deed — the document — has it not 
 been sent in to you?" asked Winifred, in breath, 
 less suspense. 
 
 "Deed — document? — nothing of the sort!" 
 ejaculated Mr. Barrington. " But you absolutely 
 look frightened, Winnie " 
 
 " Frightened, frightenerl," she said, gasping, 
 and becoming very pale. " What can this mean ? 
 1 waited and waited, thinking he was sure to come 
 back to my lodgings " 
 
 " What do you mean, Winifred ?" asked Mr. 
 Barrington. " Come, my child — tell me— I begin 
 to be seriously alarmed " 
 
 What ca» have happened ? Oh why does ha 
 come ?" exclaimed Winifred vaguely : then 
 suddenly recollecting that she was keeping her 
 grandsire in a state of the most painful suspense, 
 she hurriedly explained herself in the following 
 manner:—" Gustavus came to me just now— ho 
 has been in France with his wife— they returned 
 yesterday to London— ho was anxious to see you 
 —to bid you farewell, for he is going away to the 
 West Indies " 
 
 " Then why does he not come ?" asked old Mr. 
 Barrington. 
 
 " Ah ! that is what 1 do not know— that ii 
 what is bewildering me!" exclaimed Winifred. 
 "But there is still something worse! The deed 
 was obtained from Mr. Timperley— Miss Evelyn 
 procured it through the medium of Mrs. Hard- 
 ress- 1 gave it to Gustavus to bring to you —I 
 thought that it would afford him pleasure " 
 
 " Well, well, Winnie," said the old man : " rest 
 assured he will come presently ! Perhaps ha 
 might have met some friend " 
 
 "Perhaps so!" said Winifred, clutching at the 
 hope. " Yes- perhaps he will come presently !" 
 
 But hours passed away, and Gustavus came not. 
 A dozen times did Winifred speed to her lodgings 
 from the prison, and to the prison from her lodg- 
 ings : but still no tidings of Gustavus — not a note! 
 not a message!- and the deed— that precious deed, 
 on which so much depended — it was not forth- 
 coming ! Winifred was bewildered what to think. 
 If her cousin had fallen in with his wife, and the 
 wife had displayed her domineering temper by 
 insisting on his alienating himself from his rela- 
 tives—still the packet might have been delivered 
 either at her own lodgings or at the prison. But 
 all conjecture was useless :— hour after hour 
 passed— evening came— night set in — and still no 
 Gustavus! 
 
 It was a couch of sleepless wretchedness which 
 poor Winifred pressed t!iat night ; and when she 
 arose in the mornin;;, she felt as ill, as dejected, and 
 as miserable as in those times when all was adver- 
 sity and not the slightest ray of prosperity gleamed 
 upon her. She repaired to the prison as soon as 
 the gates were open : Gustavus had not been. 
 She went to Mr. Wardour, who accompanied her 
 to the Messrs. Cartwright; and there was now a 
 doubt whether Mr. Barrington could be released 
 without the production of the lost deed, and 
 whether an afiidavit made by Mr. Timperley (even 
 supposing him to be willing to make it) would 
 suOice instead of the original deed itself. In short, 
 fresh complications hid arisen; and the matter 
 had to be inquired into. In respect to Gustavua 
 —as Winifred laboured under (he terrible appre- 
 hension that some evil had befallen him, Mr. War- 
 dour gave certain information to the police de- 
 tectives, with a promise of a reward if the mystery 
 were cleared up. Thus all was done which under 
 existing circumstances could be accomplished : but 
 Winifred's mind remained a prey to the utmost 
 suspense. She communicated these now calamities 
 to AgTiea Evelyn, who in her turn reported the loss 
 of the deed to the Hon. Mrs. Hardress ; and 
 Cicely undertook to induce her uncle Mr. Tim- 
 perley to accomplish by affidavit, if required, that 
 same object which the deed itself was calculated 
 to have produced. But Mr. Wardour and the 
 Messrs. Cartwright discovered that th* matter
 
 could not be thus arranged : or at laast they did 
 not for the moment see their way clearly to that 
 result— and thus at all events a fresh delay was 
 occasioned. 
 
 It will be remembered that Winifred had made 
 an appointment with Koderick Dalham to meet 
 him at her own lodgings, preciwly at the hour of 
 noon, on a very early day after thoir recent inter- 
 Tiew. That day was the 17th of February— the 
 one which succeeded that day of bilier disappoint- 
 ment and uDceriainty with Winifred and her 
 grandsire in respect to Gustavus. Throughout 
 this day which bore the date of the 17th, and 
 which was the one whereon the appointment 
 abould have been kept, Winifred was so com. 
 pletely occupied in calling upon the legal gentle- 
 men engaged in her grandsire's case— in visiting 
 Agnes Evelyn to report the fresh misf.'rtunes that 
 bad transpired— and in consoling her aged relative 
 in the prison, that she bad been utterly oaabls to 
 No. 44.— AoBXa. 
 
 keep that appointment with fioderiok Dalba-ji. 
 But she had left for him a note earnestly request- 
 ing tliat he would permit the date for the inter- 
 view to be changed until the 2l8t, which would 
 leave her three clear days to see wiiethcr Gus- 
 tavus might yet make hia appearance and the im- 
 portant deed might be forthcoming. Roderick 
 received the note when he called at Mrs. Slater's 
 house punctual to the momout ; and he left a 
 written reply to the effect th&c no waa catuu.y in 
 Winifred's hands — that it was for her to dictate, 
 and that he v:ould obey. 
 
 The three days passed; and during this interval 
 some information was obtained by a detective 
 officer, which, on being rapidly followed up by 
 further inquiries, led to the belief that Gustavus 
 Barrington and bis beautiful quadroon wife had 
 embarked for the West Indies. Winifred expe- 
 rienced a certain degree of relief on receiving this 
 intelligence; it banished the apprehension nbicit
 
 345 AGNES; OR, BK401 
 
 •be had previously more or less enlertained t^ j 
 the effect (hat her cousin mit;bt have been ren. 
 dered the victim of foul pUj in the metropolis: 
 it proved that be was alive ; — and indeed the cir- | 
 cumstance seemed all the more probable from the 
 account which he himself bad given Winifred of bis 
 wife's jealous and self-willed disposition. Taking 
 it for granted, therefore, that Gustavus had been 
 compelled by Emily to embark with such exceed- 
 ing abruptness, and that in the hurry of his de< 
 parture he had forgotten all about the deed which 
 had been confided to biro, she wrote a letter ad- 
 dressed to Gustavus, at Mr. Pinnock's abode, 
 i Mount Pleasant, near Kingston, Jamaica, beseech- j 
 ing him to forward the deed with the least pos- 
 sible delay after the receipt of that communica. I 
 tion. In this letter "Winifred did nut actually 
 reproach Gustavus for his precipitate flight and i 
 the total silence be bad maintained after parting I 
 from her at her lodgings: but she represented the I 
 uneasiness she had experienced and which had 
 been shared with her grandsire— she spoke like- 
 wise of the delay occasioned in the emancipation j 
 of the old man for want of that important doca- > 
 ment. [ 
 
 And now came the moment when Winifred 
 Barrington and Koderick Dalham were again to 
 meet. It was noon on the 2l3t ofFeburary; and 
 once more was Bodcrick punctual. Winifred 
 —always neat and tasteful in her attire — bad now 
 perhaps taken some little extra pains with her 
 toilet, as any young lady might do when expect- 
 ing a visitor, and particularly when the business 
 of the interview was of the i nportance which ' 
 might now be attached to it. At first when Sode- 
 rick Dalham was conducted by Mrs. Slater into 
 Winifred's sitting-room, the colour mantled upon i 
 the young lady's countenance — then her cheeks ) 
 became very pale— and thus for a few instants ahe , 
 seemed to be embarrassed and confused, until by j 
 an effort she regained an outward air of c«mpo. ! 
 sure. But now her cheeks continued pale : yet 
 very interesting did she seem ; and it was with the ' 
 most unfeigned admiration that Eoderick Dalham 
 caught himself gazing upon her. For he, the man 
 of the world, loved Winifred— yes, be loved her ! — 
 and for no selfish reason was it that be had first 
 thought of making ber his bride. His mind was 
 constituted with the experiences of forty years — 
 for this was bis age : he bad been wild too in his 
 time— he had seen much of life — he was not a man 
 lightly to be hurried onward by any mere ro- 
 mantic whim or caprice— and therefore the love 
 of such an individual was based upon the most | 
 solid foundation. It was not a love that had beeti ' 
 speedily formed: it had grown upon him. The 1 
 more he had beco'me acquainted with Winifred's j 
 good qualities, the greater was the impression | 
 they had made upon his mind ; and when be had 
 seen her crushed down by the weight of calamities, ! 
 it had appeared sweet to him to raise her up— to ' 
 save her from being trampled completely nnder | 
 foot— that she might thenceforth cling to him as a 
 defender and protector. And thus, having saved 
 the life of Winifred, it was no wonder if Eoderick 
 Dalham should regard her .is a being indescribably 
 more dear to him than she previously was — that 
 he should feel as if heaven, after having suffered 
 reate so wide a gulf between the 
 families, should decide upon ultimately bridg- 
 
 T iXD PIEASCEB. 
 
 ing the abysm and uniting those families in th© 
 persons of these two scions thereof! And then 
 too, looking at the whole matter in a more worldly 
 point of view, it was veritably to Eoderick Dal- 
 ham's interest to espouse Winifred, as each day 
 the chances multiplied in favour of the gain of her 
 grandsire's law-suit : — and thus, although Eode- 
 rick Dalbam's luve had from the moment of ita 
 inception in his heart been high above all selfish 
 considerations, yet it could not be otherwise than 
 strengthened when circumstances tended in their 
 progress more and more to convince him of the 
 expediency of linking his destinies with those of 
 Winifred Barrington. 
 
 The reader has now obtained a deeper insight 
 than he before possessed into the mind of Eiderick 
 Dalham : and the feelings with which this indi- 
 vidual repaired to hi.i appointment with Winifred 
 may be imagined. Ue knew that it was to be an 
 interview of importance : he felt a presentiment 
 that circumstances had led bar to some fixed and 
 positive decision in reference to the topic which at 
 their previous meeting he bad ventured to revive; 
 and in a word, he said to himself as he entered 
 into Winifred's presence, " Within this hour some- 
 thing must ensue of the utmost importance to my- 
 self! Perhaps I maybe forced to adopt the re- 
 solve of never beholding Winifred again!— per- 
 haps en the other hand I may learn from her 
 lips that she has decided upon giving me a legal 
 right to become her defender and protector !'* 
 
 We have already n'.)ticod the perturbation of 
 Winifred's feelings whea Koderick was introduced 
 to the little sitting-apartment where she received 
 him ; but recovering her self-possession, she said, 
 " You have heard from Mr. Wardour how cruelly 
 distressed and anxious I have been on account of 
 my cousin : you are not therefore in ignorance of 
 the reason which impelled me to beg the postpone- 
 ment of our meeting for three daysf" 
 
 "Tea, Winifred," answered Eoderick; '-Mr. 
 Wardour has given me some few details upon the 
 subject; and Oh! you know not how afflicted I was 
 
 experiencing 
 
 I learnt that you were thus 
 fresh misforti 
 
 " Alas, Mr. Dalham !" responded Winifred, "I 
 sometimes think that I was born for a career of 
 sorrow : but that idea would be an outrage to the 
 deity himself !" 
 
 "Oh, yes, Winifred !" exclaimed Mr. Dalham; 
 "pray be more hopeful! You are so young that 
 it is doubly, doubly painful to bear such language 
 come from your lips ! Ah, Winifred ! if it de- 
 pended upon myself— if I were the guardian of 
 your happiness " 
 
 "Listen tome, Mr. Dalham," she said. "When 
 I gave you the appointment the other day, it was 
 with the fervid hope at the time that the emanci- 
 pation of my grandsire was immioent; and that 
 thus the first step would have been taken towards 
 reinstating him in his former position of prosperity 
 in the world. And then I should have besought 
 you to seek his presence— to throw yourself at his 
 feet— to proclaim how you had saved my life when 
 1 stood in the dock of a criminal tribunal! — and 
 — and, Mr. Dalham, if you had succef^ded in dis- 
 arming my grandfather of his rancour towards you 
 —then— then," continued Winifred, hesitating and 
 blushing, "you mi^ht have asked or demanded hlg
 
 AGSE5; OK, BEAC 
 
 " And you would have permitted me, Winifred ?" 
 exclaimed Dalbam, startiu^ up from his chair, ap- 
 proaching the jouDg lady, taking her hand, and 
 Sooking her earnestly in the countenance. " Ob I 
 ia it possible that I hear aright ?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Dalham," she answered, with a blush 
 upon her cheeks, and yet raising her looks with the 
 most ingenuous frankness and candour : " I should 
 have given an aOirmative to all that you had asked 
 of me ! And perhaps >a ti>° 'ii'^t fiush of happi- 
 ness at being released from that dreadful prison, 
 and with a soul expanding when freed from the 
 narrow limits of that space within which for years 
 all its ideas have been concentrated, — I thought, I 
 aaj, that under such circumstances my grandfather 
 would suddenly become magnanimous and gene- 
 rous and forgiving. But now, alas " 
 
 " Ob, Winifred ! you have given me to under- 
 stand," cried Dalham, " that it was not impossible 
 for you to espouse me !" 
 
 "How could X persist in a refusal," asked 
 Winifred, "in the presence of all circumstances 
 which urge me to give an assent ? Do I not owe 
 you my life ? and ought it not therefore to be at 
 your disposal ? — yes, and all the ideas, the 
 thouuhts, the sentiments, and the circumstances 
 -which belong unto it ! Therefore, Mr. Dalham, 
 when you told me that your fortune may perhaps 
 aoon depend on my grandfather and myself " 
 
 " Tell me, Winifred," exclaimed Eoderick Dal- 
 ham, — "tell me, I beseech you, what would have 
 been your decision if I had kept that appointment 
 which you gave me upwards of two months back ? 
 You remember — when we met in Aldersgate 
 Street— it was on the siith of December " 
 
 " That decision, Mr. Dalhjm," replied Wini- 
 fred, now bending down her looks, " would have 
 been given in accordance with the sense of the 
 deep, deep gratitude I owe you !" 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Roderick, " I was mad not 
 to keep that appointment ! But you know the 
 considerations which held mo back! And now, 
 Winifred " 
 
 " Listen to ma for a moment," she said. " My 
 grandfather must remain in prison yet awhile, 
 until my thoughtless cousin remits the deed which 
 he has doubtless taken with him across the At- 
 lantic—or until the ingenuity of lawyers shall 
 devise a means for di.-pcnsing with the document. 
 But so long as my grandfather remains within the 
 limits of that gaol— so long as the high ranges of 
 wall fling their shades upon his soul •" 
 
 " It will he useless for me to hope," said Dal- 
 ham, mournfully, " that by throwing myself at his 
 feet " 
 
 " Ob, useless ! useless !" said Winifred, for a 
 moment wringing her hands in desperation at the 
 thought. " So long as he remains there, will he 
 continue implacable in his rancours — inexorable in 
 his resolves — ready to spurn or to curse or to 
 trample upon every one who may thwart or 
 irritate him ! ' 
 
 " And thus, Winifred," said Dalham, " you 
 fear " 
 
 " liistcn to me !" she repeated, but not impa- 
 tiently : " pray listen to me ! Oc my grand^ire 
 I have said enough: but to sum up all in one 
 word, it were useless, Mr. Dalham, to hope that 
 he will prove within the walla of a gaol that which 
 ^e might became when breathing the air of 
 
 T A5D PLKASVRE. 347 
 
 liberty. The difference is that of the bird pining 
 and chaQog in its cage, and that of the one which 
 being at liberty has the whole Crmameot for the 
 play of its wings ! Enough therefore concern- 
 ing my grandsire. Now answer me! From what 
 Mr. Wardour has told you concerning the law. 
 
 " I will speak frankly," interjected Dalham : 
 " from all taat Mr. Wardour last told me, I feel 
 convinced that your grandfather must win it I" 
 
 " And this is your conviction ?" said Winifred, 
 looking Roderick earnestly in the face. 
 
 "Yes," he rejoined: "your grandfather and 
 you, Winifred, will soon be very very rich !" 
 
 " And your father and yourself, Mr. Dalham ?" 
 she asked, as if fur a moment she were exulting in 
 the knowledge of what the reply would be : "your 
 father and yourself, I repeat •" 
 
 " We stand the chance of being impoverished 
 and beggared ! All this you know, Winifred ! 
 Surely, surely, you cannot be gloating over the 
 anticipation of our fallen condition ?" 
 
 It was a veritable cry of mental anguish — sharp, 
 quick, and piercing — which thrilled from Wini. 
 fred's lips as this accusation smote her. 
 
 '■ Grood heavens, Mr. Dalham !" she exclaimed, 
 "can you believe that I am capable of such mon- 
 strous ingratitude .= Ob! when did- you behold ia 
 me aught to justity the belief that 1 could thus 
 prove an ingrate for the immensity of the bounties 
 which I have received at your hands?" 
 
 "Pardon me, Winifred ! pardon me !" cried 
 Dalham : and now he passed his arm around her 
 waist — and she did not immediately withdraw her 
 symmetrical form from that pressure. " But why, 
 my dear young friend— why, my beloved Winifred 
 — for beloved thou art ! — why put to me all thosa 
 questions ?" 
 
 " Ob, Mr. Dalham !" she exclaimed, " think you 
 that if you were certain that your lather would 
 gain the lawsuit, and that t/on therefore would 
 continue to be rich at his death, while my grand- 
 sire and I should continue to be poor, — think you, 
 I ask, that under such circumstances I would say 
 to you, * Ml/ decision is adopted ; I will accom^ 
 pan;/ yon to the altar I'—'Sa'. for then you might 
 deem that Winifred Barrington was sellishly con- 
 sulting her own interests. But now, Mr. Dalham, 
 that you have admitted that you yourself may be- 
 come poor, while on the other hand I may become 
 
 " Winifred, I comprehend you !" exclaimed Ro- 
 derick : and winding his arms about her neck, iie 
 strained her to his breast. 
 
 CHAI'TEK LVHr. 
 
 Mousr 
 
 WSES Gustavus Barrington returned to conscious- 
 ness on board the ship, his beautiful quadroon wife 
 was there to lavish her blandishments upon him— 
 to overwhelm him with caresses — to clasp him ia 
 her warm glowing arms— to pillow his head upoQ 
 her heaving bosom — and to sttUa with kisses the 
 remainder of the half-put questions to which she 
 chose not to reply. Awaking from a long lethargy 
 to find himself under the influence of those syrsa
 
 34S 
 
 AGKBB; or, IIKiLUTT AND PLEIBDBB. 
 
 •miles, Gustavus wa; not ver; likely to prove in- 
 furiate with anger; although on the other hand 
 he could not help giving vent to a certain degree 
 of lamentation at having been thus hurried from 
 the metropolis without pacing a visit to his grand* 
 father or bidding farewell to his cousin. We 
 should observe that he could not suppose the 
 champagne which he bad imbibed at dinner-time 
 and afterwards, had been drugged, inasmuch u be 
 had partaken of quite a sulHcient quantity to 
 account for his being in a completely inebriate 
 condition and thereby deprived of coneciousoees. 
 
 " Ob! why, why, Emily," he asked, when she 
 would at leoglU suffer him to speak, " have you 
 carried me ciT thus?' 
 
 " The vessel was ready to clear out," responded 
 .Cmily, in her softest tones : " and 1 thought 
 tbat^^ " 
 
 " But why this particular vessel P" asked Gus- 
 tavus. 
 
 " Did I not tell you that we must go in a ship 
 belonging to Mr. Millard — my uncle's correspond 
 dent " 
 
 " I do not remember your saying anything on 
 the subject, Emily." 
 
 " Oh, but I did !" she exclaimed, still lavishing 
 her blandishments upon bim. " And then too, 
 my dear Gus, I was afraid that illness was seizing 
 upon you you remember those fits of drowsi- 
 ness — they alarmed me — the medical man, whom 
 I called in, said that you would not be better until 
 your constitution should be reiavigorated by the 
 fresh breezes of the ocean " 
 
 " Ah, Emily!" murmured Gustavus, " I feel— 
 Oh ! 1 feel, that I have behaved infamously— 
 vilely — to that poor old man and to my 
 cousin " 
 
 "Not so, Gustavus!" interrupted the qua- 
 droon ; " for it was not your fault that you cuuld | 
 not go to visit them — you were very, very ill 
 throughout the day ! I did all that I could under 
 existing circumstances " j 
 
 " Ah ! I remember, you told me," said Gus- 
 tavus, " you sent the deed to my grandsire—and 
 affectionate messages " 
 
 " To both bim and your cousin," rejoined the 
 quadroon quickly. "Now, be not unhappy dearest 
 Gustavus !— we are on our way back to the happy 
 island where we first met! There shall all pos- 
 sible felicity await us. You know my uncle's 
 kind disposition — he will welcome you as well as 
 myself with open arms — he knows that we are 
 married— I have written to assure him that you 
 are all kindness and affection towards me, and 
 that you have so fully atoned for the cruel abrupt- 
 ness of your departure from Jamaica, that the 
 ■ubject ought never to be alluded to again. Yes 
 —all this have I told my uncle ; so that he will 
 receive you with open arms — and be will lavish 
 his wealth upon you— and everything that may 
 contribute to render your life a blissful one will 
 be within your reach !" 
 
 It was in this manner that the quadroon ad- 
 dressed herself to Gustavus, throwing all the most 
 melting music of her tones into her language, and 
 lavishing upon him the tenderest caresses. Weak- 
 minded as he had become with regard to her — in- 
 fatuated with her beauty, and afraid of her tem- 
 per—a slave to her fascinations, and frightened 
 io raise a storm of passion which he knew to be 
 
 by no means easy to still— Gustavus soon ceased 
 to complain of the circumstances of his abrupt 
 departure ; so that instead of continuing to revert 
 his looks towards his native land, he sent them 
 travelling across the Atlantic to the island which 
 was now his destination and which be had no 
 doubt would prove the place of his residence for 
 the greater portion, if not the whole, of his life. 
 He conjured up all those circumstances which 
 were best calculated to make him forget England, 
 his graodsire, and Winifred ; he thought of hia 
 splendid wife— of the luxurious isle to which he 
 was going— of the wealth which he knew would 
 be at his command — of his future prospects when 
 Mr. Pinnock should die— and he said to himself, 
 " Truly, I ought to be happy and contented !" 
 
 The voyage was a long one ; for the weather 
 was most inauspicious during the greater portion 
 of the passage— and thus eleven weeks elaspetj 
 from the day that the ship left the Thames until 
 that on which it entered Kingston harbour. But 
 at last the destination was reached in safety; and 
 it was almost with a feeling of wonderment at 
 finding himself there again, that Gustavus disem- 
 barked on the spot whence he had so frantically 
 leapt on board the mail-packet that was bound for 
 England about six months back. But as for the 
 quadroon — Oh ! was not she delighted thus again 
 tc set foot upon her native land — to be about to 
 return to the home of her birth — and to be ae- 
 companied by bim whom she loved so passionately 
 — for whom she hid undertaken, enc.ui'»i, «nd 
 done so much ! 
 
 It was past five o'clock in the eviiin;; nhtn 
 Gustavus and his quadroon wife landed at Kings, 
 town : they therefore knew that Mr. Pinnock would 
 have by this time left his office and proceeded pj 
 his suburban home. Thither they at o!ice pro- 
 ceeded in a hired vehicle ; and the I 
 up to the front of the verandah, the ( 
 which stood open as usual in the warm season of 
 the year (for it was the beginning of the month of 
 May) Mr. Pinnock himself came rushing forth, 
 with joy depicted on his countenance. And then 
 what a happy meeting it was ! The worthy mer- 
 chant hugged and embraced Emily and her hus- 
 band one after the other again and again, and then 
 both together. The quadroon's heart was swelling 
 with triumph: while Gustavus himself experienced 
 all the bliss of the moment ; for he felt like a wan- 
 derer who had returned to his home— and he had 
 not a regretful or disagreeable thought for England 
 on that occasion. 
 
 And now how much there was to talk about ! 
 and what a multitude of questions did Mr. Pin- 
 nock ask ! But Emily managed him with the ut- 
 most skill and adroitness: she said everything that 
 was calculated to be agreeable— she suppressed 
 everything that might prove disagreeable ; and 
 thus, for instance, not a syllable was spoken in 
 reference to the box of gold — the recovery of 
 whicb, be it remembered, and its transmission to 
 England, had never been revealed to Mr, Pinnock. 
 But if Emily thus studied, as heretofore, to shield 
 herself and to keep the merchant in the dark in 
 respect to the fact of her having been the veritable 
 thief of the gold dust— she likewise did her best 
 to make the character of Gustavus appear in the 
 most amiable light to Mr. Pinnock. Thus, while 
 excluding the topic of his abrupt departure from
 
 AGSES; OR, BBAOTT A5D PLBASOBB. 
 
 349 
 
 Jamaica, she oevertbelees made sucb allusions to 
 the misfortuoes which had been experienced by his 
 cousin Winifred as almost completely to justify 
 that abrupt departure : and then by lavishing 
 caresses upon Gustavus, she made her uncle— or 
 her father, as we ought to call him — understand 
 that she was devotedly attached to her husband, 
 and that she bespoke all the most affectionate and 
 friendly consideration on his behalf. Mr. Pinnock 
 was not disposed to look too deeply into past mat- 
 ters : he was glad that his daughter had returned 
 to him — glad also that she had succeeded in bring- 
 ing back the truant— glad to have a companion 
 again to sit with him of an evening while he smoked 
 his cigar and drank his wine. 
 
 The tidings quickly spread that the beautiful 
 quadroon had returned— nut as Miss Pinnock, but 
 as Mrs. Barrington ; and visits of congratulation 
 were speedily paid at Mount Pleasant. The 
 Tburlows and the A^airs — who had been present 
 on the memorable bridal day when everything was 
 strangely cut short by the flight and disappear- 
 ance of Gustavus— were now amongst the first to 
 pay their respects to the wedded pair on their 
 return from England. The fact that Emily had 
 gone alone in search of her fugitive lover — 
 that she had found him, married him, and brought 
 him back — gave a most romantic interest to the 
 return of the young couple to Mount Pleasant ; 
 and Mr. Pinnock celebrated the event with a 
 series of entertainments, banquets, and festivities 
 — at which all his friends and acquaintances were 
 invited toattend. 
 
 When all these rejoicings were over and Mount 
 Pleasant had relapsed into its wontod tranquillity, 
 it almost seemed to Gustavus as if his voyage to 
 Europe bad been but a vision, and as if all the in- 
 cidents of his sojourn there were but mere phan- 
 tasmagorean details of the same dream ; while 
 I Emily joyously hugged the belief that having 
 brought the truant safely home, he was settled 
 there for the remainder of bis days, and that with 
 the wide ocean rolling betwixt himself and his 
 relatives, their images would pale in the distance 
 and his yearnings towards them would dwindle and 
 sink into complete extinction. Thoroughly ac- 
 quainted with the human heart, the quadroon had 
 gained immensely by her own visit to Europe ; her 
 experiences during her absence of those few 
 months had amounted to what might have been 
 under other circumstances the inculcations of 
 years. She now no longer perceived a necessity 
 to play the tyrant towards her husband ; for she 
 knew that he could not now escape irom her 
 so easily as when in those far-ofl" climes across the 
 Atlantic. She therefore relaxed the bonds which 
 she had cast around him : or rather we should say 
 that in their place she substituted silken tram- 
 mels, which by her art she rendered alike im- 
 palpable and invisible. Instead of constantly 
 following him — constantly keeping with him — 
 constantly rendering herself his companion, she 
 seemed to allow him all the license of a husband 
 and a man of free and independent spirit ; though 
 secretly assured was she that her fascinations and 
 her wiles had cast upon him a spell which was 
 sure to bring him back to her arms. She curbed 
 the impetuosity of her temper ; she seemed loving 
 •od kind, affectionate and devoted— without 
 suffering the demonstrations of her love to run to 
 
 naudlin senti^nentalism ; and yet 
 she so well plied her blandishments on proper oc- 
 casions, as to leave their influence upon his imagi- 
 nation and upon his senses, if not actually upciQ 
 his heart. 
 
 Jfow, the truth is that the quadroon fully com- 
 prehended one fact ; and this was that she had a 
 hold upon Gustavus rather through the medium 
 of the sense than of the sentiment. In plainer 
 terms, she was aware that she scarcely possessed 
 his love in the pure ethereal meaning of that sea- 
 timent : it was on his part a passion the fires of 
 which had to be constantly fed. But who more 
 lit to sustain this ardour than a being who was 
 herself all warm, glowing, and fervid ? She had a 
 lurking dread in her mind that it was Winifred 
 who had possessed his heart — that she was the only 
 being he had ever truly and really loved— and that 
 the only chance for herself was by this love for 
 another becoming absorbed in the intensity of the 
 passion which she by her arts and blandishments 
 could ever manage to sustain. 
 
 When the whirl of pleasure attendant upon the 
 festivities at Mount Pleasant was over, Mr. Pin- 
 nock and Gustavus had a little conversation to- 
 gether on business-matters. 
 
 " I wish, my dear Gustavus," said the planter, 
 " to place you in a position of independence. You 
 know that Emily is not my niece, but that she is 
 my own daughter ; and you therefore are now re- 
 garded by me as a son. At my death you and 
 Emily will inherit all I possess. Meanwhile it 
 were just as well that jou should have some little 
 occupation, even though it be more nominal than 
 real. To you therefore bo assigned the duty of 
 superintending my estate, while I attend to the 
 affairs of my counting-house. Take five hundred 
 a year by way of pocket-money- keep your horses 
 — purchase your chaise, or little turn-out of sotue 
 kind or another — consider the house your own- 
 issue what invitations you please— and bring any 
 friends you like to sit down at the table." 
 
 Having thus spoken, Mr. Pinnock thrust into 
 the youth's hand a roll ot bank-notes amounting to 
 a considerable sum ; and then he hurried away to 
 escape the thanks which his son in-law was pour- 
 ing torth. This conduct on the part of the mer- 
 chant was full well calculated to assist Emily in 
 her constant study to abstract the young man's 
 thoughts from his transatlantic native land, and 
 rivet them upon the island-home of his present 
 adoption- Yet Mr. Pmnock knew not that any 
 artifice was at all necessary for the purpose ; he 
 fancied that the heart of his son-in-law was en- 
 tirely devoted to his daughter; and therefore his 
 liberal treatment of the young man was only the 
 spontaneous effusion of a naturally generous dis- 
 position. 
 
 Gustavus endeavoured to render himself as 
 happy as possible ; and he certainly bad almost 
 every reason to be happy ; for he had a comfortable 
 home, a superbly handsome wife, horses and equip- 
 ages, the command of money, every luxury that 
 Could be desired, and just sufficient occupation upon 
 the estate to while away the few hours that might 
 otherwise be tedious. But then there were mo- 
 ments when the thought of his graadsire and his 
 cousin would steal into his brain, — coming as if 
 it were an ice-wind to chill the glowing ideas that 
 were otherwise engendered by all the circumstances
 
 A01IE9; OE, BBiCTT A5D PLBASPBE. 
 
 of hu poslion in that ferrid clime. Often and 
 often, to banish the image of AVinifred, would ho 
 fix his gazo upon Emily — he would look into the 
 depths of her luminous dark eyes — he would send 
 his regards waadering over the rich contours of 
 her superb fjrm— and he would strive to persuade 
 himself that she only ruled in the domain of hid 
 heart. Bat in this endeavour he was not always 
 successful ; and then he would mount his steed 
 I and gallop away at almost a furious rate, as if to 
 
 outstrip his thoughts. 
 ! yfe should observe that Emily now practised all 
 i the elegances and graces of the toilet. AVhen in 
 ! Paris, she Lad studied French fashions ; and she 
 ; had brought with her thence a stock of raiment, 
 the beauty of which excited the envy of many of 
 , her female friends, and certainly gave additional 
 ' charms to her own naturally handsome person. 
 Thus, it was no longer the quadroon girl roaming 
 " in the simplest negligee about the domain — slip- 
 ping off her shoes at any moment to bathe her 
 \ weil-modelled feet in the purling streamlet— and 
 only occasionally dressing herself in tiner apparel 
 to pay a visit to Kingston ; it was not the Emily 
 of other days whom G-ustavus now beheld ; but 
 it was an elegant lady, who with the marvel- 
 lous aptitude of her mind had caught the fas- 
 tidiousness of European fashions, and studied 
 them as much at Mount Pleasant as when they 
 were together beneath the meridian of Paris. 
 Sometimes Gustavus fancied that he would rather 
 it should still be the Emily whom he had first 
 I known, — wandering by bis side in the lightest 
 possible drapery — a Tiegligee so complete as to 
 amount almost to a voluptuous untidiness : but at 
 other times he thought that he liked her best as 
 , she now was, — her charms modelled to the corn- 
 pressure of a corsef— an elegant bonnet displacing 
 the large straw hat — and the flowiog skirt of her 
 robe affording but transient glimpses of the 
 shapely feet and the delicatelyiounded ankles. 
 i Two months elapsed after the return of the qua- 
 droon and her husband to Jamaica. Gustavus never 
 received the letter which Winifred wrote him re- 
 questing the return of the document ; and we will 
 explain how it was intercepted. It had suited 
 Emily's views to perform the voyage in a sailing- 
 ship, because that ship had cleared out from Lon- 
 don, where they were at the time — and because 
 it belonged to her father's correspondent, ilr. 
 Millard, so that for this reason she had been 
 enabled to induce the captain, by means of a well- 
 ' devised tale, to enter into her project of carrying 
 ! off her husband, in the manner already described. 
 j That voyage, as we have seen, was protracted to a 
 period of nearly three months. But long previous 
 , to the arrival of the young married couple in 
 Jamaica, 'Winifred's letter had reached its destina- 
 tion and had been delivered at Mount Pleasant ; 
 , inasmuch as it had been conveyed by the mail 
 steampacket. Mr. Pinnock, having received it, 
 I kept it against the return of Gustavus ; for he 
 , already knew, by letters from Emily, that they 
 : were married and would in a short time revisit 
 Mount Pleasant. When they did arrive there, she 
 j fortunately (at least as she considered it) got hold 
 I of the letter ; and it was not difficult for a young 
 J lady gifted with her powers of artifice, to devise 
 , tome pretext for inducing Mr. Pinnock to abstain 
 I from meationing the fact of that letter's arrival in 
 
 the presence uf Gustavus. Emily perused the let- 
 ter, and then destroyed it. 
 
 But that letter increased her previous vexation 
 at the circumstance connected with the document: 
 she was thereby more than ever made aware of 
 its importance to old Mr. Birrington. We have 
 already hinted that Emily was not naturally bad- 
 heartel : she would not for a moment travel out 
 of her way to do an injury to a fellow-creature. 
 I It was only her intense selfishness — her all absorb- 
 ing egotism — that made her trample upon every 
 other consideration when her own interests were at 
 stake. But she was now rendered alive to the 
 necessity of forwarding that document to her hus- 
 band's grandfather. It however often happens in 
 this world that circumstances transpire to prevent 
 the accomplishment of the simplest actions, and 
 that those persons who would not delay a moment 
 in despatching serious affairs, suffer themselves to 
 fall into a lamentable procrastination in reference to 
 matters of more trivial import. Thus, first of all, 
 the rejoicings and festivities at Mount Pleasant 
 engaged Emily's attention; and then, when not 
 accompanying her husband in any of bis visits 
 or excursions, she remained at Mount Pleasant 
 to be on the spot for the moment of his re- 
 turn. Frequently she quite forgot all about the 
 document ; then on recollecting it, she would 
 vow that the morrow should positively see ite 
 transmission to the post : but when the morrow 
 came, something would occur to frustrate her in- 
 tent — and so it remained where it was, in a trunk 
 of which she kept the key. One of the chief 
 reasons for this delay was that she purposed to 
 convey the packet with her own hand to the post 
 in Kingston ; for she was afraid to trust it to any 
 menial of the household, lest it should meet the 
 eye of Gustavus, and he should question her con- 
 cerning the motive for which she corresponded 
 w:th his grandsire. Now, as she only went into 
 Kingston when he accompanied her, she had to 
 create a special occasion for going alone to acquit 
 herself of the as yet unperformed duty: but day 
 after day went by without seeing the matter ac- 
 complished ; and thus at the end of two months 
 after the return of the young couple to Mount 
 Pleasant, the sealed packet was still in the trunk, 
 and the imploring request contained in poor Wini- 
 fred's letter remained unfulfilled. 
 
 Gustavus had not forgotten Mr. Hargrave. By 
 means of an inquiry which seemed quite casually 
 put, he had elicited from Mr. Pinnock that the 
 misanthrope was still on the island — still living 
 at the same secluded cottage as before— but that 
 for some months past Mr. Pinnock had seen very 
 little of him. It further appeared, however, that 
 on one occasion Mr. Hargrave had stopped Mr. 
 Pinnock to ask if he had heard anything of Gus- 
 tavus ; and the planter in reply had told him that 
 he had recently received letters from Emily in 
 Europe, to the effect that the young couple were 
 married and would in course of time return to 
 Jamaica. 
 
 But Gustavus did not wish to meet Mr. Har- 
 grave. He somehow or another dreaded the 
 caustic severity and cynical irony of that gentle- 
 man. He knew that the misanthrope had all along 
 discountenanced his marriage with Emily ; and 
 there was a secret voice in the youth's aoul which 
 told him that Mr. Hargrave had not altogether
 
 A0KE3; OE, BGitJTT AST TLEASUUiS. 
 
 epokeo in a maDner inconsistent with a far-seeing 
 shrewdness when he had said that such a mar- 
 riage was not calculated to ensure his happiness. 
 Besides, Gustavus feared that Mr. Hargrave 
 would question him with respect to his rela- 
 tions in England, and inquire the effect of the 
 letter sent to old Mr. Birrington in reference to 
 Mr. Timperlej;— and the youth did not like to 
 incur the risk of being catechised on a topic that 
 was a sore one. Indeed, as he strove hard to 
 banish his relations from his memory, he naturally 
 avoided any circumstance that might lead to con- 
 jure up their images with vividness. 
 
 One day, however— at the espiration of two 
 months after the return to Mount Pleasant— Gus- 
 tavus, after rambling on foot through a portion 
 of his father.in-low's domains, turned into the road 
 leading towards the sea-side ; and being overcome 
 by the heat, he threw himself upon the strand. 
 He did not immediately notice the fact which we 
 are about to explain ; for he was thinking of other 
 matters : but gradually the recollection dawned in 
 unto his mind that this was the very same spot 
 where he had dragged ashore the corpse of the old 
 miser Elverstone, — an incident which had subse- 
 quently put him iu possession of the gold that had 
 proved the fruitful source of ao many after- 
 occurrences. Wbile he was gazing upon the sea- 
 calm and shining as a lake of quicksilver — and re- 
 flecting how it had there thrown up the corpse 
 of the perished miser, he thought he heard a foot- 
 step behind him : he looked round with a sort of 
 presontient start ; and there was Mr. Hargrave. 
 Yes— there was the misanthrope,— looking exactly 
 as when Gustavus had last seen him some months 
 back, — dressed in shabby costume, his toilet die- 
 playing a negligence amounting almost to sloven- 
 liness. There was the same expression of coun- 
 tenance — the profound melancholy blended with a 
 certain degree of bitterness and vacancy. The 
 tall thin. form was drawn up to its lull heit;ht : 
 the large black eyes shone brightly ; and as Gus- 
 tavus, springing up to his feet, bowed, and then 
 stood abashed and confused, a smile of withering 
 irony curled the misanthrope's lips, revealing that 
 handsome set of teeth which we have before 
 noticed. 
 
 With no word of greeting— with no salutation 
 to denote that they now met after a long interval 
 of separation — Mr. Hargrave abruptly said, " You 
 are looking upon the sea which gave up the corpse 
 of the miser — the corpse yielded the gold — the 
 gold produced certain complications, more or less 
 serious according to the view which different 
 minds may take of them. May I hope that this 
 same gold has since proved less fatal in its effects 
 in another country ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Gustavus, " the gold has for 
 
 some time past been in the possession of " he 
 
 gasped for a moment, and then added—" of my 
 cousin Winifred." 
 
 " I read the whole account of your cousin Wini- 
 fred's trial in the newspapers," said Mr. Hargrave. 
 " She was acquitted— and that must have occurred 
 before you reached England." 
 
 "Yes," replied Gustavus. "And now may I 
 inquire how your health has been since last I saw 
 you ?" 
 
 "Pshaw!" ejaculated the misanthrope; "as if 
 lay health were of the slightest consequence to 
 
 anybody !" — and he smiled ironically, for he com- 
 prehended that the query on young Barrington's 
 part was nothing but an excuse in order to turn 
 the conversation away from a disagreeable topic. 
 " And now tell me,— you who are acquainted with 
 your cousin, and have been upon the spot, — tell 
 me, I say, for you can judge intinitely better than 
 any one who is unacquainted with your cousin, 
 and who has not been upon the spot to bear what 
 people say of the case, — tell me, I repeat, was she 
 really innocent, and was the verdict a just one? or 
 was she really guilty, and was the verdict delivered 
 in mercy ? " 
 
 " What ! Winifred guilty ?" exclaimed Gustavus, 
 suddenly inspired with a chivalrous heroism on his 
 cousin's behalf : "the bare idea is preposterous! 
 No, Mr. Hargrave I — you or I, while here upon 
 this island, were as likely to have been the mur- 
 derers of that old woman in England as my cousin 
 Winifred! And Oh, Mr. Hargrave! if you knew 
 the amount of sympathy of which she became the 
 object " 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear you tell me all this," 
 interrupted the misanthrope; "because it oniy 
 confirms the conviction which was strong in my 
 own mind— namely, that your cousin was really 
 innocent. But now let me ask you a question, 
 Why did you not marry your cousin ? — since it 
 was for her sake that you ran away so precipitately 
 from Jamaica — or at least such was the rumour 
 which prevailed at the time." 
 
 " Marry her, Mr. Hargrave?" gasped Gustavus. 
 
 " Why — what made you think why should you 
 
 have supposed that I entertained any particular 
 regard ■" 
 
 " Why, did not you yourself speak to me of 
 your cousin Winifred and your old grandfather P" 
 exclaioaed Mr. Hargrave: "and think you that I 
 am so ignorant of the world and of the human 
 heart as to have been unable to penetrate what 
 was passing iu your tliou^hts at the time when 
 you thus spoke to me of Winifred ? Answer me 
 
 "No, no, Mr. Hargrave! I will not discuss 
 this topic!" ejaculated Gustavus, evidently wincing 
 from the theme, and almost writhing beneath the 
 inffuence of his own thoughts. 
 
 " Just as you like," said Mr. Hargrave coldly. 
 " I have no impertinent curiosity : I had for some 
 reason or another— I scarcely know what — con- 
 ceived an interest in your welfare ; and therefore 
 
 But no matter! I an fathom all the truth 
 
 without the aid of any explanation from your 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Hargrave ?" and young Barring- 
 ton looked anxiously and nervously into the mis- 
 anttirope's face. 
 
 " To be sure !" cried Hargrave. " I should be 
 a veritable idiot if I could not fathom it all! The 
 planter's quadroon daughter followed you over to 
 England— she was strong in will and resolute in 
 purpose — you were proportionately weak and feeble 
 —and thus Winifred was sacrificed to Emily — and 
 perhaps your heart's happiness has formed part of 
 that sacrifice. TLere, Gustavus 1 — is that the 
 truth ? or is it not ?" 
 
 An expression of anguish for a moment flitted 
 over the youth's countenance, as he recollected tha 
 terrible scenes which occurred on that memorable 
 day when Emily and Winifred stood face to fac»
 
 352 
 
 SSKS; OB, BEAl-IT 
 
 »nd when the latter surrendered up to the for. 
 mer wbatsoeTer claim she might bare tu bit 
 heart. 
 
 *' Toucg man, you are not happy," said Mr, 
 Uargrave, looking earnestly upou Barrington's 
 countenance ; " and 1 am really sorry for it. Yes 
 — I am really sorry for it ! — although it is more 
 or less all your own fault. But now tell me, — 
 that letter which I gave to you at the insiant 
 when you rushed upon the deck of the mail- 
 packet " 
 
 " Ab, Mr. Hargrave !" exclaimed Gustavus, 
 ** how great a debt of gratitude is due to you 
 from my grandfather for having opened bis eyes 
 to the true character of that man Timperley !'* 
 
 " Ah ! then," said the misanthrope, " the warn- 
 ing was not neglected ?" 
 
 '* Ob, no !" cried Gustavus: "my grandfather, 
 previously so much prejudiced in favour of Mr. 
 Timperley, was all in a moment convinced that for 
 years and years that vile bad man bad been play- 
 ing him false !" 
 
 "I am glad that my letter produced this re- 
 suit," said Hargrave ; " for a greater scoundrel 
 than Mr. Timperley does not exist on the face of 
 the earth ! But is your grandfather still in 
 prison ? No ! that can scarcely be, considering 
 the vast amount which the gold dust must have 
 realized ?" 
 
 " My grandfather was still in prison when I 
 left England," replied Gustavus : "but there can 
 be no doubt that he obtained his liberation al. 
 most immediately after " ! 
 
 " And you waited not to bail bis restoration to 
 freedom !" exclaimed Hargrave, evidently think- 
 ing there was something strange in. this part of 
 the business. 
 
 " No— I could not wait— that is to say I desired 
 tc, as in duty bound— but— but " i 
 
 " I understand all about it," interrupted Har- 
 grave curtly ; " your wife would not let you stop. 
 Well, but why was not your grandfather re- 
 stored to freedom ? Could he not get quit of 
 Timperley ?" 
 
 "Ob, yes — I believe so!" rejoined Gustavus. 
 " Indeed, I have every reason to imagine that 
 such was the case; for just before I left England, 
 Mr. Timperley bad surrendered up a deed of para- 
 mount importance— the very document, in fact, 
 which proved the great barrier to my grandsire's 
 emancipation, and without the production or de- 
 struction of which the money itself was of no 
 avail in the settlement of his debts." 
 
 "Well— and this deed being produced," said 
 Mr. Hargrave, who felt convinced by the hesita- 
 tion of the youth's manner and the confusion of 
 bis looks that there was something wrong, — " how | 
 was it that the door of the gaol was not at once 
 thrown open ? and how was it that yoo did not ' 
 wait an hour or two to welcome your venerable ^ 
 relative into a state of freedom once again ?" \ 
 
 At this moment Gustavus was carried away by ' 
 •nch an overwhelming tide of feelings that be 
 burst into tears: then dreadfully ashamed of bim. 
 self, and even alarmed at this display of his 
 weakness, be hastened to say, " Let us turn the 
 discourse, Mr. Hargrave ! Pray do not press me 
 on this topic I" 
 
 " My young friend," said the misanthrope, bit 
 took and manner all in a moment becoming pecu- 
 
 liarly kind and friendly — we might almost eay 
 affectionate,—" there is g;rief in your heart ! You 
 have either done something wrong, or something 
 wrong has been done to you. Tell me everything. 
 Yes, Gustavus — I experience a real interest ia 
 you ! Tell me therefore everything !" 
 
 The youth now felt in one of those moods which 
 prompt and incline individuals to speak confiden- 
 tially to those who address them in a sympathiziog 
 manner ; and he accordingly began to let out a 
 few of the details of his own conduct towards 
 Winifred when first arriving in London, Mr. 
 Hargrave questioned bim ; and at length he elicited 
 the entire history of all that had occurred after 
 the quadroon had presented herself at Winifred's 
 lodgings,— how the box of gold was by her ob- 
 tained from the railway-station, — how Winifred 
 surrendered up her claim to the hand of Gus- 
 tavus— how Emily bore him away in triumph — 
 how the gold was restored to Winifred— and how 
 Gustavus then became the quadroon's husband. 
 But still Mr. Hargrave questioned him further ; 
 and thus the misanthrope wormed out of tha 
 youth all that remained to be told — the sojourn in 
 Paris — the return to Loudon — the youth's last 
 interview with Winifred — the circumstance of the 
 document being entrusted to him— his encounter 
 with his wife— their return to the hotel— the man- 
 ner in which that day was passed — and the myste- 
 rious abruptness with which he was kidnapped, so 
 to speak, on board the ship which bad borne hita 
 back to Jamaica. 
 
 Mr. Hargrave gazed with astonishment upon 
 Gustavus when the whole story was told : be then 
 reliected profoundly for nearly a minute— and at 
 length he said, " It is a painful history to be beard 
 by any one who is interested in you, Gustavus; 
 and it must be a painful history for you to tell !" 
 
 The youth looked abashed : he held down bis 
 head and said nothing, 
 
 " Are you sure," inquired Mr. Hargrave, after 
 a pause, " that your Emily played a fair game in 
 respect to that document p" 
 
 " Good heavens, let us hope so 1" ezclaimed I 
 Gustavus. " But of course she did ! What ! 
 earthly interest could she have bad to the coo- | 
 trary ?" | 
 
 " I don't know. Very likely none," replied Mr. 
 Hargrave curtly. "But who could tell? All I : 
 can say is, that if I were exactly in your position, 
 I should not leave the matter in any uncertainty : 
 I should consider it a duty towards an aged and , 
 long persecuted grandsire to convince myself that j 
 no barrier existed against his liberation." 
 
 " Yes— you are right, Mr. Hargrave !" said 
 Gustavus. " I ought to have written " j 
 
 " What : you have been two whole months ia 
 the island, and not written to England yet ?" ejacu- 
 lated the misanthrope. " Ab ! your looks prove 
 that it is so ! Eeally, joung man," he added, in a 
 severe tone, " I cannot altogether admire your 
 conduct towards your relatives in England. But 
 perhaps they have written to you ?" 
 
 " No," rejoined Gustavus: " I have not re. 
 ceived any letter since my return to Mount Flea- | 
 sant." 
 
 " But you tell me that your departure was so ! 
 abrupt,— how do you know that your relatives are j 
 aware that you have actually returned to ' 
 Jamaica ?"
 
 OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 " Oil, Emily sent the kindest messaoes, af the 
 Btur.e lime that she transmitted the document " 
 
 " Ah I BO she said," interjected the misan- 
 thrope Muotly : "but we must not take ererj- 
 thing aft gospel that cornea from her lips. Pardon 
 me for speaking in this manner of jour wife. 
 You will admit she deserves it. And now, Gus- 
 tavus, I tell jou what you must do. Go and write 
 a letter to your cousin Winifred, beseeching a few 
 lines by return of post to set your mind at rest re- 
 Utive to the emancipation of your grandfathur. 
 This is a duly you must perform ; and I will see 
 that you accomplish it. Let the letter bo written 
 without delay ; and I will take it with my own 
 hand into Kingston — with my own eyes will I see 
 it consigned to the post-otEce— and then we ahail 
 know that it has not been intercepted. Come, 
 GustaTus, I will walk with you towards Mount 
 Cleasant ; and I will lounge in the neighhourhood 
 uotU you come forth with the letter." 
 No. 45.— A»»B?. 
 
 Towards Mount Pleasant did the misanthrope 
 and the youth accordingly proceed ; and as they 
 drew near the house they beheld the postman ai- 
 vancing from the direction of Kingston. In a few 
 minutes that individual came up to the spot 
 where they were just turning off towards the 
 villa; and he said, " I beg your pardon, sir— I be- 
 lieve you are Mr. Barringtoa : and if so, there i3 
 a letter for you." 
 
 Gustavue toot it ; and on glancing at the hand- 
 writing of the eddr.'^ss, he cried, "It ia from 
 Winifred !" 
 
 Tbo postman passed rapidly on his way ; and 
 Gustavus proceeded to exclaim, " How singular 
 —how remarkable 1— that just as we had been 
 
 talking of letters from England " 
 
 " Open that letter, and see whet it says," inter- 
 rupted Mr. Hargrove: "yoti cun afterwards ex- 
 
 I prosa your admiration of the oo>np'denoe, if you 
 
 'think fit."
 
 364 
 
 agues; OB, BEACTT AND FLEASCEB. 
 
 Guslavus accordingly opened the letter: but 
 scarcely had his eyes glanced over the first line or 
 two of its contents, when the colour forsook his 
 cheeks— he trembled violently— and Mr. Hargrave 
 saw that sotnething was the matter. Gustavus, 
 now giving vent to ejaculations of rage mingled 
 with moans of anguish and despair, handed the 
 letter to the misanthrope, who found that it was 
 to the following purport: — 
 
 " Again, and perhaps for the last time, do I 
 write to you, Gustavus. Why did my former 
 letter remain unanswered ? Surely it must have 
 reached you ! For heaven's sake transmit me that 
 document which I entrusted to you! Oh, delay 
 not, Gustavus ! for you must be distressed to 
 learn that you — and j/ott on!y—h&ve for months 
 past kept cur poor grandfather in prison ! Ob, 
 Gustavus! surely this appeal will suffice! Send 
 the deed I— you cannot possibly have destroyed 
 
 " Wmipeed." 
 
 "Ob, Mr. Hargrave!" exclaimed Gustavus, 
 clasping his hands together ; " am I not accursed 
 ia this wife of mine ? It is she who has done 
 
 " It certainly looks as it it were so," eaid the 
 misanthrope: "but still you must not judge too 
 hastily. There are such things as accidents— mis- 
 carriages of parcels " 
 
 *'0b, my poor grandfather! Oh, Winifred! 
 Winifred !" cried Gustavus, wringing his hands : 
 " I have proved a curse unto ye both ! Mr. Har- 
 grave, await me here for a few minutes !" 
 
 Having thus spoken, the half-distraclcd youth 
 darted away and rushed into the house. He 
 sought Emily in the parlour and drawing-room : 
 she was not there. He rasfaed up-stairs- he burst 
 into the chamber— but still he perceived her not. 
 As he was turning to leave the room and pro- 
 secute his search elsewhere, his eye fell upon a 
 large trunk which he now recollected that his wife 
 invariably kept locked, and of which she retained 
 the key. Without a moment's hesitation he seiied 
 upon some implement that was close at band — he 
 broke open the box — he began to toss out its con- 
 tents. Scarcely however had ho any hope that 
 the deed would there be found; and he was just 
 on the point of desisting from bis occupation, 
 when behold ! at the very bottom of that trunk 
 he caught a glimpse of something which evoked 
 an ejaculation from his lips. He snatched up the 
 object,— yes, it was the deed ! He remembered 
 well that parcel, carefully sealed and tied round 
 with a piece of ribbon ! — for it was precisely 
 in the same state as when Agnes Evelyn had laid 
 it upon the table in Winifred's little sitting-room. 
 
 And now it was a cry followed by a yell which 
 burst from the lips of Gustavus— a cry uf joy to I 
 iind that the document bad not been destroyed | 
 nor lost— but a yell of rage to think that it was ! 
 bis own wife who had proved the means of keep- 
 ing his grandsire in prison for months past, and of 
 Blling the heart of Winifred with so much bitter 
 affliction. Then, with the packet in bis hand, just 
 ■8 be bad snatched it out of the box, did be run 
 down the stairs- forth from the bouse — and back 
 again to the spot where Mr. Hargrave was await- 
 ing him. 
 
 eried tbe 
 'Oh, Mr. 
 
 upted 
 
 "I have found it ! I have found it !" 
 excited youth holding up the packet. 
 Hargrave ! to think that my own wife — 
 
 " Now be not excited, Gustavus," ii 
 tbe misanthrope. "You are the child of 
 and for this very reason is it that you are wavering 
 and vacillating, and that you never have a will 
 of your own ! Let us look at the packet. Ah ! it 
 is tied and sealed " 
 
 "Yes," exclaimed Gustavus, —"just as Wini- 
 fred gave it me about five months ago! Oli, those 
 five months my poor grandfather " 
 
 " Well, well— after all," said tbe misanthrope, 
 " they cannot matter so very much to one who baa 
 been a quarter of a century in prison. But yet 
 not for a single day longer than wa« necessary 
 ought he to have been detained !" 
 
 "No — not for a single day ! — and Emilv is the 
 cause of it all ! But at least let us open the 
 packet— though perhaps there is no need, and I 
 had better hasten o£f at once and either send it to 
 England — or take it with me !" added Gustavus 
 vehemently, while a fierce expression of anger 
 against his quadroon wife flitted over his counte- 
 nance. 
 
 " Be tranquil, young man— be tranquil, I say," 
 exclaimed Mr. Hargrave, in a tone of authority. 
 " There are important considerations before you : 
 and you must pursue them with gravity and deli> 
 beration. Now you know that I am your friend. 
 Allow me to open this packet— I will glance over 
 the deed which it contains — and I will speedily 
 tell you whether it be of the immense importance 
 which you conceive. For it would be useless to 
 excite yourself for nothing, or to run on a wild 
 goose chase to Europe." 
 
 " True, true !" ejaculated Gustavus. " Ob, if I 
 had you always for a mentor!" — and now be was 
 as glad at having fallen in with the misanthrope 
 as he bad recently been anxious to avoid bim. 
 " Command me in all things, and I will obey you, 
 my dear sir, as if you were my father and I were 
 your son." 
 
 "Then I tell you what to do, Gustavus," said 
 Mr. Hargrave. "Just walk as far os yonder 
 group of trees," he continued, indicating a clump 
 about two hundred yards distant: "during this 
 interval you will calm and tranquillixe yourself, so 
 that you may do nothing rashly either io respect 
 to your wife when you next meet, or in reference 
 to another sudden voyage to Europe. For believe 
 me, Gustavus," added Mr. Hargrave emphatically, 
 and with a strange expression of countenance, 
 "it is no light thing to flee away from one's 
 wife and to abandon one's borne for ever !" 
 
 Tbe misanthrope's voice had become ominously 
 hollow as he spoke these last words ;, and for a 
 moment Gustavus gazed upon him as if he thought 
 that in thus speaking be was involuntarily telling 
 a part of his own history. But the idea was 
 only transient in the youth's mind ; and he turned 
 away, walking slowly in the direction of the clump 
 of trees two hundred yards distant. Mr. Hargrave 
 remained upon the spot, and proceeded to open 
 the packet. 
 
 But we will follow the footsteps of Gustavus. 
 He could not compose bis feelings so easily as the 
 misanthrope had seemed to think that he might 
 be enabled to do. The images of his grandsire and 
 Winilred had been within the last hour vividly re-
 
 BEAUTY AND PLEA3PKE. 
 
 called to bis mind : all his lovo for his cousii 
 becomo resuscitated, miogling nith a profound 
 sjDDpathy and compassion as well as with a 
 remorse; so that by a very natural reaction of the 
 feelings he experienced a proportionate rage agaii 
 Emily for the monstrous cheat, so unaccountable 
 to him, which she had practised in reference to 
 that document. lie was now compelled to look 
 upon his own wife in the light of a persecut( 
 his relatives — that venerable grandsire and that 
 well. beloved Winifred. It only required such 
 setting-in of so strong a tide of emotions as th 
 to make him retrospect with bitterness upon t 
 the various acts and machinations which Emily 
 bad from the 6r8t practised, — the stealing of the 
 gold from himself, then the stealing of the gold 
 from Winifred, her perseverance in separating him 
 from Winifred, the tyranny she had exercised over 
 him in Europe, the dissipations in which she had 
 plunged him, the whole aflair about the document, 
 and the manner in which she had kidnapped him 
 as it were on board the vessel. A burning sense 
 of wrong was engendered in his mind ; and Emily 
 was the wrong-doer ! Forgotten was her beauty : 
 scattered to the winds were all the lingering in- 
 fluences of her siren wiles and voluptuous bland- 
 ishments ! Gustavus felt himself to be altogether 
 a new man — an altered being — a regenerated 
 
 Ten minutes elapsed before he returned to the 
 epot where he had left Mr. Hargrave. The mis- 
 anthrope was now seated upon a hank by the side 
 
 I of the road; one hand supported his head — the 
 
 I other held a document: the envelope lay upon the 
 ground. He was plunged into the profoundest 
 redection,— so profound indeed, that he did not 
 
 I observe the youth's approach until bis shadow was 
 
 I thrown upon the earth before him. 
 
 "Ah!" ejaculated the misanthrope; and it was 
 
 : with a sudden start that he thus recognised the 
 presence of Gustavus. 
 
 I " Well, my dear sir," said the youth ; " that 
 
 , document " 
 
 I " Is of all the importance which has been at- 
 
 I tached to it," rejoined Mr. Hargrave. " I know 
 «nough of law to be aware of that !" 
 
 j ** Ah !" exclaimed Gustavus joyfully ; " then 
 though the release will come tardily, yet that 
 liberation will be effected ! Let me look at the 
 
 I deed. Ah!" he again exclaimed, as he took it 
 from the misanthrope's hand ; " it hears a far back 
 
 1 date:" — then reading the endorsement, he said, 
 
 I "Joshua Waldron first of all— afterwards Thomas 
 
 Timperley " 
 
 " Yes, yes," ejaculated Mr. Hargrave, " those 
 are the names !"— and it was almost with a fierce 
 impatience that he snatched the document from 
 young Barrington's hand. 
 
 "And DOW what am I to do, sir?" inquired 
 Gustavus. 
 
 " As I am going to Europe immediately " 
 
 "You, ifc. Hargrave?" 
 
 ] " Y^es — I. By the very next packet 1 And 
 ah! when 1 bethink me," exclaimed the misan- 
 thrope, " there is one which leaves Kingston this 
 very day !" 
 
 "But I was not aware," said Gustavus, "of 
 
 any such intention on your part " 
 
 "Perhaps not," ejaculated the misanthrope 
 curtly: "1 am not in the habit of communicating 
 
 3oS 
 
 my intentions But no matter 1" he continued, 
 
 suddenly throwing off his cynical severity and 
 bitterness ; " it is not the less true, my dear boy, 
 that I am going to Europe; and if you permit me, 
 I will be the bearer of this deed to your grand- 
 father. I hope you can trust me, Gustavus?— you 
 know that I would not for the world deceive 
 you!" 
 
 " Oh, my dear sir !" exclaimed the youth en- 
 thusiastically, " with the exception of my rela- 
 tives, you are almost the only person in the world 
 whom I dare trust ! But let me go with you !" 
 
 " No, my dear boy," rejoined Mr. Hargrave, 
 pressing his hand with a fervour that seemed even 
 affectionate : " it must not be ! Kemember that 
 you are married " 
 
 " Accursed marriage !" — and Gustavus stamped 
 his foot with rage. 
 
 " Nevertheless you are married— and therefore 
 henceforth you can be nothing to Winifred hut a 
 cousin, and she must be nothing else to you. It 
 were most unkind— most imprudent — wrong in 
 every sense — for you to throw yourself in her 
 way ; for after all you have told me, I feel confi- 
 dent that if you were to meet again, such meeting 
 would only be attended with the saddest memo- 
 ries." 
 
 "Alas, alas! it is but too true!" said Gustavus, 
 quivering with" excitement. "Bat this spot has 
 now become hateful to me— my wife likewise i> 
 hateful " 
 
 "Gustavus, you must not speak thus!" inter- 
 rupted Mr. Hargrave. " You are married — and 
 though your wife has not behaved well to you, 
 yet for a thousand reasons must you study to 
 make the best of your position. Do you agree 
 shall take the document with me ?— and I 
 pledge myself that the very first thing to be done 
 oe on arriving in London, will be to deliver it 
 the hands of your grandsire." 
 Yes, I agree," said Gustavus. " But once 
 
 Not another word !" interjected the misan- 
 thrope. "All is now understood between us. Ah! 
 when I bethink me, do you know how this docu- 
 t found its way into your cousin's hands ? 
 she receive it direct from Mr. Timperley ?" 
 I do not know," answered Gustavus. "Our 
 ersation that day when she gave it to me, was 
 so hurried — I was in such an excited state — that 
 if she told me any particular details, I have for- 
 gotten them : yet my impression is that she 
 ply said it was a document which Mr. Tim- 
 perley had given up. But why do you ask ? I» 
 there anything of importance connected with the 
 mode in which it came into Winifred's hands ?" 
 
 nothing, nothing," answered Hargrave 
 quickly. " It was a mere passing curiosity. And 
 w, Gustavus, farewell! I will write to you from 
 England ; I will send you all needful tidings of 
 your grandfather and cousin. Farewell, my dear 
 and conduct yourself leniently aud forgiv- 
 ingly towards your wife; for remember that she 
 your wife, and you cannot— you must not 
 separate from her !" 
 
 Thus speaking, Mr. Hargrave wrung the youth'l 
 hand with fervour : he wrung it again and again j 
 and then hurried away, taking the document with 
 him. Barrington stood rooted to the spot like tha 
 mute elSgy of despair ; tvr he felt as if he were
 
 359 AGSE8; CK, BEAVTT 
 
 loaing hia best frieod in the retreating form of 
 the misftDtbrope. 
 
 And that form wa» soon Ic«t in the distanee ; 
 and then Gustarus turning abrupt!; round, daihed 
 bis open palm against his forehead, ejaculating, 
 " Miserable wretch that I am, I know not what to box— and I hare entrusted it to one who will' not 
 
 " Another letter ? Oh, GustaTus ! 
 Emily, " the document is safe— jou shall baro 
 
 " I have already got it !" be ejaculated, in ac- 
 cents of the wildest scorn. " I found it in your 
 
 He hurried on, neither perceiving nor caring in 
 which direction he went — but borne as it were by 
 the wild tornado of his thoughts, as a balloon in 
 the air is hurried through the expanse on the wild 
 wing of the whirlwind. Tlius he sped on for 
 nearly half-an hour, despair and madness in his 
 brain, — until he suddenly stopped short on the 
 brink of a precipice, down T-hich another forward 
 footstep would have precipitated him. He started 
 back, an ejaculation of horror bursting from his 
 lips as he abruptly became viridly alive to the 
 awful peril which he bad just escaped. But as 
 he glanced around, be beheld a female form at a 
 little distance; and now another ejaculation was 
 evoked from bis tongue. 
 
 "Ah, Emily!"— it was thus that he exclaimed. 
 
 "Dearest Gus !" cried the q-adroon, bounding 
 towards him: "I have been looking for you! You 
 
 did not come in to luncheon — I was alarmed 
 
 But good heavens, Gustavus ! what is the matter 
 with you ? — why do you regard me thus ?'' 
 
 "Keep back, Emily !" he exclaimed, with a 
 sinister fierceness in his regards as well as in bis 
 tone ; " or by heaven, I shall do you a mischief !" 
 
 And the quadroon did step back; for there was 
 something fearful in her young husband's aspect. 
 She was elegantly dressed, and had looked won- I 
 drously handsome until the moment when a sallow 
 paleness seized upon her countenance on behold- 
 ing those terrible looks. 
 
 " Gustavus !" she exclaimed, " for heaven's 
 sale ■■ 
 
 " Emily, keep back, I tell you ! Depart hence !" 
 his vuice actually thundered ; " or I shall do you 
 a mischief ! Look 1 this precipice is deep — the 
 sea rolls at the bottom " 
 
 " My God ! he has gone mad !"— and Emily 
 clasped her hands in horror. 
 
 " Mad ? — yes, mad !" echoed Gustavus fiercely. 
 " Wretch that you are ! what has made you the 
 bitter, bitter persecutor of my relations ?" 
 
 " Ah !"— and the quadroon's face became as 
 deadly pale as the duskiness of her complexion 
 would permit ; and it was a hideous pallor which 
 overspread that brunette richness of the skin ; for 
 her guilty conscience suddenly smote her, and a 
 suspicion in reference to the document flashed 
 wildly and horribly into her brain. 
 
 " Yes— I see that you comprehend my mean- 
 ing !" exclaimed Gustavus. " My God I why did 
 you do it? — why did you deceive me so infa- 
 mously ? There has been a letter from my 
 
 " A letter f" repeated Emily in affright. 
 
 " Yes— a letter that never reached me ! It was 
 intercepted doubtless ? Perhaps you know how !" 
 
 " Oh ! pardon me, Gustavus— pardon me, I be- 
 seech !" — and again the quadroon's hands were 
 clasped with even a mortal agony. 
 
 " Ah ! then you confess it — and I could almost 
 kill you !" he cried, in terrible accents. " But an- 
 other letter has como — it has just reached my 
 
 " Listen to me, Gustavus — listen to me for 
 God's sake ! and I will explain everything ! For, 
 Oh I I have been very, very wretched on account 
 of that document !— it has haunted me like a re- 
 morse ! Yet 1 take heaven to witness, Gustavus, 
 that it all arose from the immense love which I 
 bear you " 
 
 "Ob, talk not to me of love!" he cried, in a 
 voice fearfully mocking and ironical. "Tell me of 
 your hatred— and I shall believe you! Tell me 
 that this hatred of yours has poured forth its vials 
 not only against myself, but likewise against my 
 unoffending relatives. Yes — tell me of your 
 hatred, Emily " 
 
 " My hatred ? " she shrieked forth in wildest 
 dismay. "Oh, no! no! Say anything to me 
 rather than that ! Oh, my God ! I love you, Gus- 
 tavus — I love you !" — and the quadroon bounding 
 forward, flung her arms about his neck. 
 
 "Keep off! keep off, I say!" he vociferated, 
 violently pushing her away from him. " As soon 
 a serpent to enfold me in its coils, as you in your 
 
 " 2so, no — I will not be spurned ! I love you ! 
 — madly, passionately love you! — and you shall 
 forgive me!" 
 
 " Xever !" exclaimed Gustavus : and the voioe 
 of that young man was terrible, for it sounded like 
 the voice of doom. 
 
 Nevertheless the half-frenzied Emily, wild with 
 despair, rushed again towards him to throw her 
 arms about bis neck : but he, likewise half mad- 
 dened, pushed her from him with exceeding vio- 
 lence. Then a terrific skriek pealed from her lips : 
 for she had reeled back to the edge of the preci- 
 pice — the earth was giving way beneath her — 
 another moment and she was falling down into the 
 abysm. 
 
 Oh ! then, mingling with her own piercing 
 shrieks, rang forth the wild cries from the lips of 
 Gustavus; and it was a perfect miracle that he 
 himself was not hurled over the precipice by the 
 sudden spring which he made forward to clutch 
 the garments of his falling wife. But he failed to 
 reach her ; and it was only by throwing himself 
 suddenly upon his back that he was saved. Quick 
 as lightning he again started up to bis feet. All 
 was now still below ; he looked over — he almost 
 fell forward, while plunging his eyes down into 
 the abyss. The sea— calm and shining like a lake 
 of quicksilver — lay at the foot : there was not a 
 speck upon its surface ; and during the several 
 minutes which the horror-stricken youth stood 
 thus gazing over, down into that depth, no 
 human form appeared cm the bosom of that 
 
 It was not with passionate exclamations,— no, 
 it was in profound silence, that Gustavus turned 
 away from the spot. A stupendous coosternatioa 
 was upon him : be was stunned — stupefied. Xha 
 nightmare of dismay sat heavy upon his soul; 
 and it was again with utter recklessness as to 
 whither bis footsteps might lead bim, that be
 
 IGKES; OS, BB1.UTT AKD PLEASCnK. 
 
 3aT 
 
 moTed flowly »loug. The last horrible shrieks of 
 hia wife were perpetuated in his ears, — not 
 pealing and thrilliog with a pierciog keenoess, but 
 vibrating in a dull numbning manner, which 
 might have indicated, if he had sulHcient power 
 for considering the subject, a partial cuugestion of 
 the brain. 
 
 CHAPIEE LIX. 
 
 6CANDAL IH THE PHISOS. 
 
 We are now about to bring back the attention of 
 our readers to the British metropolis ; and we 
 must return to Winifred Barrington. 
 j Xearly seven months had elapsed since the oc- 
 . currence of those incidents which bad so cruellj af- 
 I flicted her :— nearly seTen months, during which no 
 1 tidings had been received from her cousin Gus. 
 . (avus, and the precious document was still as good 
 I as lost so far as her graodsire was concerned. 
 I Every endeavour had been made by Mr. Wardour 
 ; the barrister, and Messrs. Cartwright the attor- 
 I neys, to accomplish the desired aim without the 
 i production of that deed, and to effect old Mr. 
 ! Barrington's release from gaol. A bill was filed 
 I in Chancery ; but this process was a tedious one — 
 ! as poor Mr. Barrington had already found to his 
 j cost in that grand suit which had now lasted up- 
 ■ wards of thirty years. In reference to the eman- 
 1 cipation of the old captive, Mr. Timperley did all 
 { that was required of him, by making aSdavits 
 I to the effect that be had given up u particular 
 1 deed the contents of which were in such and such 
 1 a sense ; for the Hon. Mrs. Hardress never re- 
 ! fused her intervention with her uncle when it was 
 I besought by Agnes Evelyn on Winifred's behalf, 
 i But the affidavits would not do : there were 
 ' wheels within wheels — there was a combination of 
 I the chicaneries of the law which in this particular 
 
 case, as in so many others, defied common sensf 
 
 and common justice. Id a word, old Mr. Bar. 
 
 rington was still in prison on account of the ah- 
 I sence of the deed ; and there seemed to be no 
 I chance that be could obtain his emancipation 
 < until the law-courts sat in November — unless 
 I indeed the document should turn up in the in- 
 I tcrval. 
 
 I The great Chancery suit likewise stood over till 
 i Xovember, when it was positively understood that 
 , the Lord Chancellor would deliver his judgment. 
 I Prom a variety of indications it was tolerably well 
 I surmised in whose favour this judgment would be 
 I given : indeed the chances were considered to be 
 
 at least ten to one in favour of Mr. Barrington. 
 
 Every endeavour had been made by Cartwright 
 I and Co. to get the case on at an earlier period of 
 ' the year : but neither the strictest legal integrity 
 J nor the most able management of the matter could 
 i wrestle successfully against those various and often 
 I unforeseen sources of delay which spring up in the 
 I Chancery Court. For, to he brief, it was now near 
 ! £be middle of September ; and old Mr. Barring- 
 I ton was looking anxiously forward to " next Term" 
 i (m the month of Kovember) which he felt con- 
 ' fident would see the end of all hia troubles and 
 
 prove the era of renewed prosperity. 
 I lue ibtga sum oi money produced by the sale 
 
 of the ore and the gold dust, still remained in. 
 vested in Winifred's name in thd Bank of Eng- 
 land. She was living economically and frugally, 
 as hitherto,— still occupiog the same apartmenti 
 in Mrs. Slater's house— still regularly visiting her 
 grandsire in the prison, and ministering to him. 
 with as much tenderness as ever. As we havff 
 seen, Winifred received no answer to the first 
 letter which she had addressed to Gustavus al: 
 Mount Pleasant in Jamaica ; and she was now 
 anxiously waiting to see whether her second letter 
 would prove more fortunate— for a sufEcient period 
 had elapsed since its transmission to justify her in 
 looking for a response, if her earnest appeal had 
 succeeded in eliciting one at all. 
 
 When we first introduced Winifred to our 
 readers and gave some brief sketch of her history 
 and her circumstances, we stated that she was 
 iked upon as a young person of unimpeachable 
 reputation; and such was her character for virtue 
 and purity, that not even the moat hardened liber- 
 tine would dare to bend an insulting look upon 
 her. All the gaol-officials likewise respected her ; 
 the turnkeys as she passed through the lobbies, 
 the passages, or the gates, invariably touched' 
 their hats and had a kind but respectful word to 
 say to Miss Barrington. Thus was it wont to be. 
 But of late matters had begun to change some- 
 what. First of all it became whispered amongst; 
 the hangers. on of the prison that on several occa- 
 sions when Winifred had left the gaol in the even- 
 ing, she had been accosted by a gentleman who 
 was previously waiting at the end of the street ; 
 and that she bad walked away with him. At first 
 the officials of the prison "pooh-poohed" the tale 
 when it was reported to them, and were ready tj 
 stake their existence that it was all a mistake or a 
 scandal. The narrators of the story however per- 
 sisted in proclaiming that which they declared to 
 he supported by the evidence of their own eyes;, 
 and they went so far as to hint that there might 
 be a great deal of hypocrisy after all about Mis» 
 Earriogton ; for that though she had been ac- 
 quitted of the charge of murder — and everybody 
 believed rightfully acquitted— yet that it was in- 
 disputably on record that there had been soma- 
 mysterious connexion between herself and the late 
 Mrs. Chicklade, the nature of which connexion 
 had never been cleared up. Thus Winifred's 
 character was becoming a subject for discussion in 
 the prison and its neighbourhood ; and it was not 
 long before even those who had been her most 
 zealous defenders and champions, began to grow- 
 cold and look suspicious when it was stated by a 
 gaol-oilicial himself that he had seen her enter 
 Mrs. Slater's house with a gentleman at eleven 
 o'clock at night. To be brief, the rumours that 
 were thus prejudicial to Winifred's fair fame grew 
 mure frequent and were more widely circulated, 
 while they also acquired strength from a variety 
 of little corroborative circumstances. The turn- 
 keys now began to shake their heads and to look 
 ominous; while the touch of the hat became les* 
 respectful and the passing word less kind. Wini. 
 fred did not however seem to notice that thero 
 was this change in the demeanour of the offiL-ials 
 towards her : or if she did notice it in reality, sho 
 afftcted nut to do so. 
 
 At last suspicion began to point to a mor» 
 serious indication of iojpiopcr conduct, as it wa.-^
 
 AG5ES; OE, 
 
 ASD 
 
 alleged, ( 
 
 Winifred's part. It was supposed that 
 ■be nas in a tray to become a mother. A lynx- 
 eyed old monthly nurse, who happened to be pay- 
 ing a friendly visit one day to the upper turnkey, 
 and nhu was seated with that functionary ia the 
 lobby, saw Winifred pass by. 
 
 "Good dav, Miss Barrington," said tho turn- 
 key. 
 
 "Miss Barrington indeed?" remarked tho old 
 monthly nurse when Winifred was beyond ear- 
 shot : " she ought to be a Mrs.—ot I'm very much 
 mistaken !" 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked the turnkey. 
 "Why, I mean that in about two or three 
 months' time that modest-looking girl whom you 
 call JlfiM Barrington, will be a mother." 
 
 A few days afterwards the prison-surgeon was 
 in the lobby, conversing with the same turnkey: 
 a^ain did Winifred pass— and the medical man 
 ejaculated, when the gate had closed behind her, 
 " If I did not think so well of that girl, I should 
 euppose her to be in the family way !" 
 
 This opinion, following upon that of the monthly 
 nurse, convinced the turnkey that the suspicion 
 was only too well founded; and in a very short 
 time tho rumour was whispered that the young 
 lady who had so long been I'espected as a pattern of 
 rectitude and virtue, had fallen and become a guilty 
 thing. And now it was supposed that tLe tale 
 which had been circulated in respect to a box of 
 gold-dust having been sent to Winifred was all a 
 fiction— and that whatsoever money she might pos- 
 sess, was derived from the sale of her person to 
 6ome infatuated individual. Scandalmongers are 
 always wiseacres after their own fashion, in settling 
 the "why" and "because" of other people's 
 affairs. And so it was in the present instance. 
 They could now account for everything. Winifred 
 was evidently in the keeping of some rich indi- 
 vidual—perhaps of some nobleman ; and despite all 
 her prudery, she was no better than she should be. 
 Ah ! they always thought she was a designing 
 bussey ! The stillest water runs the deepest ! Per- 
 haps she had been profligate for a much longer 
 period than was even suspected, and with consum- 
 mate artifice she had concealed her depravity. To 
 be sure! it must have been so 1— and that would 
 account for her mysterious connexion with Jlrs- 
 Cbicklade. Well, who after this would ever trust 
 to appearances? 
 
 This was the sort of language in which scandal 
 and gossip now indulged, until every one began to 
 express surprise that any fjith had ever at all 
 been put in the idea of Winifred Barriogton's 
 virtue. The touch of the hat on the part of the 
 turnkeys was now altogether discontinued ; and 
 instead of the kindly respectful word, spoken with 
 a species of paternal interest, it was an abrupt 
 " Good mornins," or '• Good evening," as the case 
 might be ; and if she paused to observe "that it 
 was a fine day," the response would be a curt 
 monosyllable. Sometimes Winifred started as if 
 an idea had suddenly crossed her brain : sometimes 
 she looked full of confusion, with the blushes glow- 
 ing and burning upon her countenance: but for 
 the most part she passed rapidly on through the 
 lobby, passage, or gateway, whichever it might be 
 — bending her looks downward, and shrinking 
 against the wall as if to escape observation. In- 
 deed, her conduct was in many a sense that of a 
 
 guilty thing ; and no doubt any longer existed ia 
 the minds of even her most zealous defenders that 
 she bad fallen away from the path of virtue. 
 
 One morning old Mr. Barrington was walking 
 up and down the prison-yard, in company with Mr 
 Kobus. The breakfast was being prepared ; and 
 the old captive was io bis flowered silk dressing- 
 gown and his black velvet skull cap with a gold 
 tassel, just as when we last found him sauntering 
 in the company of the same individual seven 
 months back. 
 
 " Ah ! I wish it was next Term," said old Bar. 
 rington, after a brief pause in tho discourse. 
 " When once November comes, Eobus, it won't be 
 very long before rshall find myself beyond theia ! 
 
 " Ah, well," interjected Mr. Bobus, with a short 
 dry cough, " when I see it I shall believe it." 
 
 " See it ?" ejaculated old Barrington testily. ' 
 " Why, of course you will ! What is to prevent ' 
 it ?" 
 
 " What has prevented it time after time, for so 
 many, many years ?" demanded Bobus. " Those i 
 circumstances, my dear sir, over which one has no I 
 control ! And hang me if I don't think that the { 
 longer a fellow remains in gaol, the less controllable ' 
 circumstances always do get !" ,' 
 
 " Enough, Mr. Eobus !" exclaimed old Barring- I 
 ton, now assuming an air of dignity. " I knoir 
 what I may calculate upon, sir. I have an excel- ; 
 cellent barrister to advise me — ^good lawyers to ' 
 
 " All very well, Mr. Barrington," said Eibus j j 
 " but to my mind barristers and lawyers have I 
 closed more doors than they have ever opened." 
 
 " Ah, well ! you shall see, my good friend ! you i 
 shall see 1" cried Mr. Barrington. " I'll wager ' 
 you anything you like, Eobus, that before the | 
 tenth of November my promised dimer to the ; 
 prisoners will be given." ^ 
 
 " I wish I may get it," said Mr. Sobui, i 
 with persevering incredulity of look, tone, and | 
 manner. j 
 
 "You shall get it, Eobus !— and a happy day it j 
 will be ! Ah, when I think of how rejuiced I shall I 
 feel — and how delighted my darling Winnie'wiU I 
 also be— to gaje upon the festive scene, and to ! 
 know that we are gladdening many hearts in cele. j 
 bration of the circumstance which at the same ] 
 time will be gladdening our own " 
 
 "Ah! then you think Miss Birrington will be \ 
 with you on the occasion f " said Eobus, with a ma- 
 licious expression of countenance. 
 
 " With me ? Of course she will be with me !" 
 ejaculated old Barrington. " \fi>j do you ask the 
 question ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing! I only thought Let me see : 
 
 this is September. Ah ! November will make 
 
 just two months more —and that is about the ' 
 
 time when Miss Barrington must expect " 
 
 " Expect what ?" inquired the old man, not ! 
 entertaining the slightest notion concerning the 
 drift of bis companion's spiteful allusions. 
 
 " Ab, well," said Eobus, " those who ought to 
 be the first to see things, are always the last; and ' 
 rumours may circulate round and round the very 
 persons whom they most concern, without reach- | 
 
 " Euoiours ?" said old Barrin:;ton : " I don't 
 understand you ! Perhaps I failed to catch some- |
 
 rs; OK, BEAUTV 
 
 thing 70a uid that might have explained your 
 meaning ; for I fear IVe got a little deaf lately." 
 
 "And a little blind too," rejoioed Bobus curtly. 
 
 " However, it's no business of mine only it's a 
 
 great pity you see, people will talk and I 
 
 think that if your grand. daughter had been wise 
 enough to retire into eeclusion two or three weeks 
 ago, before her position became so unmistakably 
 perceptible " 
 
 An ejaculation of mingled anger and terror 
 burst from old Barrington's lips, as an idea of bis 
 companion's meaning now flashed in unto his 
 
 " Mr. Eobus," he said, " how dare you, sir, jest 
 on such a topic P But confess it was a joke ! 
 Ha ! ba ! you wicked dog ! you are always think- 
 ing of the girls ! But really, Mr. Kubus " — and 
 here the old man became serious again—" it is a 
 jest, sir, which in connexion with my grand- 
 daughter — a young lady — I cannot permit." 
 
 At this moment the poor prisoner who had been 
 
 preparing Mr. Barrington's breakfast, came up to 
 
 the spot to announce that it was in readiness; and 
 
 I the old captive said, " I will presently speak to 
 
 I you again, Ejbus, on that point : I will tell you 
 
 I my mind ! It is very unhandsome on your part — 
 
 I very wrong and unkind But however, we will 
 talk it over presently ! ' 
 I Old Barrington proceeded into the ward, and 
 ' Beated himself at the table nhere his morning 
 
 imeal was spread. He tried to persuade himself 
 that it was all nothing but a joke on the part of 
 his friend Eobus: but still Le could not altogether 
 I succeed. There was a degree of uneasiness ex- 
 j cited in hia mind ; and it was now increasing. 
 I He could not cat with his usual appetite : he kept 
 looking at his watch — he was impatient for the 
 arrival of Winifred. 
 I Shortly after ten o'clock in the forenoon, she 
 ! made her appearance. Her gracd.'ire received 
 her with even more than the usual fondness of his 
 welcome ; for as he looked at her sweet interest- 
 face, he ejaculated within himself, " Eidicu- 
 lous ! impossible ! Winifred could not do wrong !" 
 , He walked «iih her in the court-yard ; and for 
 •ome time all bis misgivings were completely 
 banished, until his eye suddenly resting upon her 
 
 ing I 
 
 I lous i 
 
 ahape, the thought— the hori 
 
 thought — again 
 ffect that there 
 might be something more than either mere jest or 
 Bcandal in the allusious of ilr. Eobus. 
 
 " Winnie — my dear Winnie," he said, taking 
 her hand and pressing it between both bis own, 
 "tell me, my dear girl— tell me — tell your poor 
 old grandfather that you have never done any- 
 thing wrong " 
 
 " Good heavens 1" she murmured, glancing with 
 affright up into the old man's countenance, while 
 her own face became deadly pale. 
 
 " Oh, Winnie !" Le said, in a whining snivelling 
 tone; " my darling girl— my only comfort !— you 
 
 — you — have not Iso, no ! impossible ! You 
 
 have not any secret which you would be afraid 
 to KTeal !" 
 
 " A secret ? ' gasped Winifred : and it was a 
 species of horror, or rather a dismayed stupor, 
 that was now expressed upon her countenance. 
 
 "Tell me, Winnie — tell me — Ob, I beseech you 
 to toll roc," exclaimed the old man, " are you not 
 Hill as worthy as ever of my love ?"— and his tone 
 
 it assumed the accent o{ 
 
 became suddenly fir 
 solemn adjuration. 
 
 Winifred seemed for a moment as if she were 
 about to be overwhelmed by the horror, anguish, 
 and distress of her feelings ; and then suddenly 
 
 playing a cold composure, she said, " Grand- 
 father, I do not understand you! Such words 
 from the lips of any other would be an insult: but 
 from your's they come like something that is unin- 
 telligible !'■ 
 
 'Well, well, Winnie," said the old man, his 
 fidence now completely restored again. "I 
 
 i wrong don't think anything more about 
 
 my dear child !— it was very stupid on my 
 part I But that impertinent fellow Eobus, who 
 full of venom as a serpent— and all because 
 
 I shall get out of prison before him for of 
 
 le I shall get out next Term— shall I not, dear 
 Winnie ?" 
 
 "Ob, Gid grant that you may indeed leave 
 his dreadful place very shortly !" said Wini'Ved, 
 n a low tone, but which was nevertheless full of 
 inguish. 
 
 She quickly itivented some excuse for leaving 
 her grandfather for the present ; and she hastened 
 forth from the prison. Scarcely able to keep 
 back her tears, she hurried along the streets : she 
 reached Mrs. Slater's house — she ascended to her 
 own apartment— and tossing off her bonnet and 
 scarf, she fell upon her knees by the side of her 
 coucb, giving vent to an agony of weeping. 
 
 "Oh !" she murmured passionately, amidst con- 
 ulsive sobs, " even he at length suspects it ! Yes 
 — suspects that I am dishonoured and disgraced! 
 Malignant longues have whispered it in his eat! 
 What can I do.' To return again to that place, 
 is impossible! — to abandon the old man is equally 
 impossible I . To fall upon my knees before him 
 
 and confess Xo, no ! that is even still more 
 
 impossible, if indeed there be grades and distinc- 
 tions in the sphere of impossibility itself! Ob, 
 what can I do f" 
 
 Winifred wrung her hands in despair ; she rose 
 from her suppliant posture — she passed into the 
 sitting-room — she sank upon a seat, and endea- 
 voured to reason calmly with herself: but she 
 could not. Her grief again burst forth with pas- 
 sionate violence : but this time it was of suQicient 
 duration to afford a vent for her overcharged heart, 
 and to leave relief behind it. When at length she 
 was enabled to deliberate seriously with herself, 
 her looks became composed — and her features re- 
 sumed their sweetly interesting expression, as from 
 her bosom she took forth a tiny velvet bag and 
 pressed it to her lips. 
 
 Some one was now tapping at the door of her 
 apartment : the little velvet bag was quiclily re- 
 placed in the bosom of her dress; and she bade 
 the person enter. It was the maid-servant of the 
 house, who came to announce that a gentleman 
 desired to see Miss Barrington on very particular 
 
 " Mrs. Slater is not at home," added the girl 
 " and 1 have shown the gentleman into her par* 
 lour." 
 
 Winifred descended the stairs ; and on entering 
 the parlour, she found herself in the preaeoce of 
 a tall gentleman whose age was somewhere be- 
 tween forty and fii'ty, though it was not easy to 
 coujecture it with aLy dejrce of precision ; for
 
 SCO 
 
 AOSES; OR, BEACir 
 
 PLEASnEE. 
 
 vbile bis hair vaa grey, bia teeth were remarkablj 
 fine and well preserved, and his eyes were very 
 bright. He was dressed in a complete suit of 
 black which seemed to be entirely new, for the 
 fresh gloss was still upon the cloth : bis bat and 
 gloves likewise appeared as if they were purchases 
 ,;iade within the last few hours. 
 
 ■■ You are iliss Barriogton ?" he said, at once 
 :&king her hand with a species of friendly fami* 
 aarity; and be contemplated her countenance 
 with an expression of the deepest interest. 
 
 •Pray be seated, sir," she said, wondering who 
 he could possibly be— but desirous to find a pre- 
 test for sitting down and escaping from this close 
 survey, lest he should discover that which could 
 scarcely be any longer maintained a secret from 
 •he eyes of even the most casual observer. 
 
 The stranger sat down, his eyes still contem- 
 plating her countenance, but in a perfectly re- 
 fpectful manner, and with an air of paternal in- 
 
 *' And you are Miss Barrington?" he repeated, 
 OS if she were even more sweetly prepossessing 
 than he could have previously imagined from any 
 description be had heard or any idea be had 
 formed of her. "But I must not keep you in 
 
 suspense. I am — I am that ilr. Hargrave " 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated Winifred, almost starting 
 with amazement; "the gentleman who wro'e the 
 letter from Jamaica about Mr. Timperley .'" 
 
 "The same," responded Mr. Hargrave. "I 
 arrived in London late last night — I have come 
 from Jamaica— and I bring you. Miss Barrington 
 
 — I bring you from your cousin Gustavus " 
 
 "Oh!" — and she clasped her hands in joyous 
 anticipation of what was to follow. 
 
 " I bring you the document which " 
 
 " God be thanked I" cried "Winifred, bounding 
 
 orward from her seat to take the packet which 
 
 Mr. Hargrave had just produced from his pocket. 
 
 ' 4 thousand, thousand thanks, my dear sir !" she 
 
 txclttimed : " for now my grandsire can be free !" 
 
 " 1 called just now at the prison," said Mr. 
 
 Hargrave, " with the intention of delivering this 
 
 j document into the hands of your grandsire — for 
 
 j such was the promise which I made to your cousin 
 
 Gustavus in Jamaica: but then it suddenly struck 
 
 I me that as it was you. Miss Barrington, who bad 
 
 I entrusted him with the document, to i/ou should 
 
 I it be restored. Therefore I came hither." 
 
 ' " And Gustavus ?" said Winifred ; " is he well ? 
 
 13 he happy ?" 
 
 "He is well," replied Mr. Hargrave; "and in 
 
 lustice to himself must I give you the assurance 
 
 that it was not his fault if that important docu- 
 
 I tuent has been so loog kept back." 
 
 I '■ All this you shall explain to me another time!" 
 
 .exclaimed Winifred, nearly wild with the eicite- 
 
 I ment of joy ; " for this very day may my grandsire 
 
 ■ Oue word. Miss Barrington— and only one 
 «ford !" cried Hargrave. 
 
 " Speak, sir," she exclaimed. " It is my duty 
 ' io display all courtesy towards yourself !" 
 
 " Xay, I will not detain you a minute," re- 
 
 j joined Hargrave ; " for I appreciate and respect 
 
 jour desire to hasten your venerable relative's re- 
 
 I lease. But tell me. Miss Barrington— was it from 
 
 I Mr. Timperley direct that you in the first instance 
 
 received this < 
 
 nent?' 
 
 "Oh, no, Mr. Hargrave!" replied Winifred. 
 " It was bis niece, the Hon. Mrs. Hardross, who 
 at the intercession of a young lady — a Mia« 
 Evelyn " 
 
 " Miss Evelyn," repeated Mr. Hargrave. 
 " Who— where " 
 
 " Good heavens, are you ill ?" cried Winifred, 
 looking anxiously in the misanthrope's couate- 
 
 " No^it is nothing," he answered, as calmly as 
 he had before been speaking. " Mias Evelyn you 
 say, I think — you mentioned her Chriitiaa 
 
 "^'o— I did not : but it is Agnes. And I can 
 assure you, Mr. Hargrave, that Agnes Evelyn haa 
 proved a dear good friend to me !" 
 
 " 1 suppose— I suppose," said Mr. HargraTe, 
 " that the young lady resides in the neighbour- 
 hood — perhaps in the s<ime street — and tberefora 
 you are neighbours " 
 
 " Not so, Mr. Hargrave," replied Winifred, 
 somewhat surprised at so much questioning. 
 " Miss Evelyn lives at a beautiful place called 
 Sidney Villa, in the neighbourhood of St. John's 
 Wood." 
 
 " Farewell, Miss Barrington !" said Mr. Har- 
 grave, now hurriedly rising from his seat, and 
 warmly pressing Winifred's hand, " Lose not a 
 moment in effecting the release of your grandsire ! 
 I will see you soon again." 
 
 He then hurried from the house; and Winifred, 
 so soon as she was alone, went down upon her 
 knees and poured forth her gratitude to heaven 
 for the restoration of the document. Then she 
 rushed up to her chamber, all wild with joy : she 
 put on her bonnet and shawl —and she sped down 
 the staircase again. In the ball-passage she met 
 Mrs. Stater, who had just come in. 
 
 " The deed is arrived ! it has come ! I have got 
 it !" exclaimed Winifred, triumphantly displaying 
 the packet. " Hasten to the prison— tell my 
 grandfather that to-day he shall be free! I am 
 hurrying off to Mr. Cartwright to put everything 
 in train for his release ! Ah ! Mrs. Slater, it is 
 strange that your handsome first.floor should have 
 become vacant last Monday ; for now I at onca 
 engage it for the accommodation of my grand- 
 father !" 
 
 Mrs. Slater gave vent to a few ejaculations ex- 
 pressive of her delight at the restoration of the 
 deed : and while she sped away in one direction, to 
 execute the commission entrusted to her, Winifred 
 went off in another to put matters in train for her 
 grandsire's release. Mrs. Slater performed her 
 own part with delicacy and caution,— not breaking 
 the intelligence too hastily to the old man, but 
 communicating the joyous tidings gradiently and 
 deliberately. Old Barrington bad moreover been 
 prepared, more or less, to expect that the period of 
 his release was not very fardistant,- though it was 
 now anticipated by a couple of months; thus, all 
 things considered, there was nothing in the shape 
 of a sudden shuck of happiness, so to speak, to 
 overwhelm the aged captive. Yet the tears ran 
 down his cheeks — he whimpered while he smiled^ 
 be snivelled and laughed— cried and chuckled — and 
 would perhaps even have danced if his friend Mr. 
 Bobus had not bidden him, with some degree of 
 severitv, " act like a man, and not play the part of 
 a child'"
 
 Th« news eprcKii like BiHBre thai the old pri- 
 soner vbose captivity bad endured for more than 
 a quarter of a century, was at length about to bid 
 farewell to the liying sepulchre in which he had 
 been eo long entombed. The other prisoners he- 
 longing to the same compartment of the gaol, 
 thronged about Mr. Barrington ostensihlj to 
 proffer their congratulations, but most of them 
 being influenced by the more selfish motive of pay- 
 ing their court to him so that they might come in 
 for a share of whatsoever good things it was his 
 purpose to dispense in celebration of the event, 
 ilr. Robus however kept on suggesting " that 
 there was many a slip between the cup and the 
 lip;" and he advised the old man to take every- 
 thing as calmly as if there were going to be no 
 release at all. Indeed he even went so far at one 
 time as to express his conviction that there would 
 •rise some hitch at the last moment: but Mrs. 
 Slater spoke so positively on the point that Mr. 
 Ko. 16.— AG5B8, 
 
 Barrington was not to be disheartened by tha miii- 
 givings of his cynical friend. 
 
 " At all events," said Mr. Robus, " there's one 
 part of all your prophecies which is not this day 
 destined to be fulhlled." 
 
 " And what is that ? what is that, eh ?" inquired 
 the old man, half nervous with joyous excitement, 
 and half petulant at this fresh instance of churl- 
 ishness on his friend's part. 
 
 " Indeed it is not exactly a prophecy that will 
 remain unfulfilled," rejoined Eobus ; " but it is an 
 oath that will he violated." 
 
 "An oath? an oath, Mr. Eobus i> What do 
 you mean sir?" exclaimed old Barrington: "aa 
 oath to be violated by me ? Ah ! you allude to the 
 dinner that I promised to give ? Well, well— I 
 bad not forgotten it : it ehall be given to-morrow 
 Mrs. Slater shall superintend it all " 
 
 " I wasn't alluding to the dinner — I nosn't 
 thinking of it!" exclaimed Bobus ; "and the Irutti
 
 362 
 
 AGNES; OB, EKACIT A> 
 
 PLEASUBK. 
 
 n I don't care whether j-ou give it or not. But 
 this is what 1 mean, Mr. Barriogton, — that you 
 h&vo over and over again taken an oath to the 
 effect that jou will never leave thio prison except 
 
 in vour own carriage " 
 
 "Ah!" ejaculated Mr. Barrington with a start! 
 " that's true — yes, very true ! 1 had forgotten it I 
 Mrs. Slater, do you think Winifred has borne it 
 
 "No, Mr. Barrington," replied the worthy 
 woman, " I don't Ibink that Miss TTionie has 
 troubled her head with any such nonBense. You 
 will leave the prison in the course of the day ; and 
 that's enough for you to know. As for whether 
 you will leave it in a cab, a glass coach, or a car- 
 riage, is a matter of not the slightest consequence: 
 but you ought to congratulate yourself that it 
 won't be in a hearse that you'll be carried away ! 
 Besides, Mr. Barrington, there's no need for you 
 to have any vehicle at all ; for you're going to stop 
 at my house, and it's barely five minutes' walk from 
 the prison." 
 
 " To be sure ! to be sure !" said old Mr. Bar- 
 rington : but he looked furtively at Sir. Eobus. 
 
 This individual had at the moment an ironical 
 expression upon his lip; but it gradually disap- 
 jjeared as his mouth was compressed into an ex- 
 pression of severity. 
 
 "An oath is an oath, Mr. Barrington," he 
 said, with a certain dryness of tone and curt- 
 Dcss of accent which seemed to be fully consonant j 
 with his naturally bitter and dog-in-the-manger ! 
 kind of manner; " an oath's an oath — and people I 
 should be carelul how they violate it. Besides, 
 when an oath has arisen from a vaunt, it ought i 
 to be kept, not only on the score of one's virtue, 
 out also on the score of one's pride. In plain j 
 terms, Mr. Barrington, if you are a man of your i 
 word and want others to respect you as such, you 
 won't leave this prison till your own carriage comes | 
 to fetch you — no, not even if you were to stay in j 
 gaol till the end of your life." 
 
 Old Barrington looked confused and distressed : 
 his pride had been appealed to, and his sincerity 
 as a man had been as it were put at stake. But 
 i.n the other hand there was his freedom ! there 
 was the happiness of restoration to liberty await- 
 
 " I wish, sir," said Mrs. Slater, thus addressing 
 herself in indignant terms to Mr. Eobus, "that 
 you would hold your tongue, instead of putting all i 
 this nonsense into Mr. Barriogton's head. I dare- 
 say that in some idle moment he may have made j 
 a boast about what he would or would not do : but ] 
 if you mean that he is to keep in gaol just because j 
 that silly vaunt may not perhaps be fuitilled " 
 
 " I know nothing, madam," interrupted Eobus, 
 " about idle vaunts or silly boasts. All I know i 
 is that the assertion has been spontaneously made 
 by Mr. Barrington over and over again: he has j 
 r^ttilied it with the most solemn and sacred vows 
 — and therefore if there is any value in an 
 uath " ; 
 
 " Ob, enough of this nonsense !" ejaculated j 
 Mrs. Slater, now worked up to a positive pitch of 
 indignation, which Mr. Eobus surveyed with a 
 calm cynical satislaclioo. " Come, Mr. Barring- 
 ton !— let us walk up and down in the court-yard 
 A little. You require the fresh air after the ex- 
 
 " And I don't think he'll enjoy the fresh air out 
 of doors," interjected Mr. Eobus, " seeing that 
 freedom will have been purchased at the expense 
 of an oath." 
 
 Mrs. Slater hurried the old man awiy out of 
 the ward where this discourse had taken place; 
 she conducted him into the court-yard, where they 
 walked up and down together. Mr. Eobus did not 
 attempt to join them: be saw that he had thrown 
 a damp upon the old man's spirits— he had mixed 
 as it were the alloy with the pure metal of com- 
 plete happiness; and io bis cold churlish cynicism 
 he was contented. 
 
 It was between one and two o'clock in the 
 afternoon when Winifred was seen hastening 
 across the court-yard, towards her grandsire and 
 Mrs- Slater, who were still walking there. The 
 affectionate girl threw herself into the arms of 
 the old man, who strained her to his breast and 
 wept like a child. It was a long time before 
 Winifred could find the power of utterance or 
 articulate what she had to say, so powerful wore 
 the emotions which agitated her. At length she 
 murmured forth, " You can now go up-stairs, my 
 
 dear grandfather — and dress yourself for Mr. 
 
 Cartwright is in the governor's otBce— delivering 
 all the requisite papers— for — for— your discharge 
 
 Indeed, everything is settled— and— and— by 
 
 the time you are dressed, dear grandfather " 
 
 " Yes, yes, dearest Winnie !" faltered the old 
 man, who was whimpering and laughing vrith 
 nervous excitement ; " I understand, my girl ! I 
 understand !— the gates will be opened ! ' 
 
 " Yes, dear grandfather," responded Winifred ; 
 
 "and — and— but don't excite yourself now 
 
 don't give way too much 1 was only about Co 
 
 say that as the streets must seem strange to you, 
 and though the distance is so short to Mrs. Sla- 
 ter's house — yet still, as you have been here, dear 
 grandfather, for so many, many years— and you 
 must almost have forgotten what the outside of 
 the prison is— I thought it would be better to 
 have some kind of vehicle to take you away " 
 
 " To be sure, Winnie dear ! to be sure !" said 
 the old man : " very, very considerate on your 
 part ! So you've got— a— a — a cab ?" he faltered 
 out. 
 
 " Not exactly a cab, my dear grandfather," re- 
 joined Winilred, looking up into the old man's 
 countenance with the sweetest expression of min- 
 gled affection and happiness : " not exactly a 
 common cab — something better than that, you 
 know " 
 
 " Ah, well '. a glass-coach p" said the old man : 
 " or may be a postchaise ?" he added : for at the 
 time when he had entered the gaol upwards of a 
 quarter of a century back, postchaises were as 
 common in the world of vehicles as blackberries 
 are in that of wild fruits. 
 
 " Now don't trouble and agitate yourself," said 
 Winifred, affectionately coaxing, " about what sort 
 of an equipage I have got in readiness. But pray 
 go up and dress— and by the time you are ready 
 to go the doors will be also ready to open for your 
 egress !" 
 
 Old Mr. Barrington hastened to ascend to the 
 dormitory to put .-ff his ressing-gown and his 
 skull-cap', and substitute a new coat and hat which 
 he bad by him. Meanwhile Mrs. Slater remarked 
 to Winifred, " You don't know bow I've been
 
 AGNES; OK, BHAHTT AND PlEASaEE. 
 
 vexed nith that nastj, crabbed, ill-tempered fellon 
 Bobu!>, who wanted to make out that ;our grand- 
 father ought to remain in prison all bis lil'e ratbei 
 than violiito an oath which he had taken " 
 
 "Ah! an oath P" said Winifred, with a singular 
 expression of countenaoce. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Slater; "the foolish oath 
 which you and I bare heard him take over 
 orer again, that he would never leave the prison 
 unless it were to ride away in his own 
 riage." 
 
 " Ah !" said Winifred ; " and Mr. Eobus has 
 been taunting my grandfather upon this sub. 
 ject ?" 
 
 "Yes — but I cut him short," replied Mrs, 
 Slater ; " and I brought the old gentleman out to 
 walk in the yard ; so we've been lounging up and 
 down here for tho last two or three hours. — 
 But here is your grandfather !" 
 
 Mr. Borriogton now reappeared from the dor. 
 mitory, where bis toilet bad been hastily changed ; 
 and it at once struck both Winifred and Mrs, 
 Slater that he had a more jaunty air than ever they 
 had before observed— that he walked more up- 
 right—and with a certain elasticity of step re- 
 placing the dragging heaviness which had been 
 wont to characterize the motion of his limbs. An 
 exulting expression diffused the glow of anima- 
 tion over Winifred's countenance, as she hastily 
 whispered to Mrs. Slater, " The enjoyment of free- 
 dom will add ten years to his life !" 
 
 At this moment Mr. Cartwright — one of the 
 eminent firm of Cartwright and Co. of Chancery 
 Xane — made his appearance in the court-yard ; 
 and Mr. Barriogton hastened forward to grasp 
 the friendly attorney by the hand. 
 
 " Well, my dear sir — well," said Winifred's 
 grandfather, in a half anxious tone, " is every- 
 thing right ?— no hitch — no delay " 
 
 " All right, Mr. Barrington," answered the soli- 
 ■citorj "and permit me to congratulate you on 
 your freedom." 
 
 " Freedom ! — is it possible ?" murmured the 
 old man, with a sensation of sicknesi} creeping 
 over him, accompaoied by a dizziness and confu- 
 aion in the btaio : " freedom ! — is it possible, after 
 six-and-twenty years of captivity ! And will the 
 turnkeys really let me out? — will they believe you 
 when you tell them that I am free ? — won't they 
 ehake their heads, and either smile upon me in- 
 credulously, or else look upon me with compas- 
 sionating sadness ?" 
 
 " Granfifather — dearest grandfather, you are 
 free !" whispered Winifred: but her voice, though 
 low, was of an exulting energy : " you aro free ! 
 Sustain yourself !— lean upon my arm I You are 
 staggering !" 
 
 " I am all right, Winifred," exclaimed the old 
 man, now reawakened into completest consciuus- 
 aess of all that was passing around him. " Come, 
 let us depart. Ah, here is Bobus ! Well, my 
 good fellow," he ejaculated, as the cynic drew 
 nigh, " do you believe that i am free now?" 
 
 " No— I shan't believe it till I see it," ejacu- 
 lated £obus, " Sow often must I remind you 
 that there's many a slip between the cup and the 
 lip ?" 
 
 •'Permit me to tell you, sir," said Mr. Cart- 
 wright, stepping forward, "that I, as Mr. Bor- 
 tington'a solicitor, can vouch for the fact that he 
 
 is free to leave this prison at any moment; and I 
 hope that in somethm^ like three minutes he will 
 give you a practical proof of the sincerity of the 
 declaration." 
 
 "Ah! don't be too sure!" interjected Mr. 
 Robus, — "although 1 must confess that this cer- 
 tainly does look something more hfce a discharge 
 than anything I have for a long time seen. But 
 how about the carriage ?" 
 
 " Ah 1 tho carriage," ejaculated the old man 
 hastily : " why, you see, if my dear Winnie could 
 not manage it " 
 
 " Euough ! I understand !" said Mr. Robus, 
 with an ironical smile. " The oath is of course to 
 bo socrificed 1 Well, good bye, Mr. Barrington. 
 I wish you your health and happiness^— and 
 that you may never repent having broken a pledge 
 80 solemnly taken." 
 
 "Do not be too hard upon my grandfather, Mr. 
 Eobus," whispered Winifred. "Oa the contrary, 
 as an old friend of his you ought to come as far aa 
 the upper lobby to see him safe out of the prison- 
 gates, and assure yourself that in the present in- 
 stance there shall be no slip between the cup and 
 the lip." 
 
 Mr. Eobus was on the point of refusing, for hs 
 did not like to behold the happiness attendant 
 upon an emancipation from prison while he re- 
 mained a captive within its walls; but then he 
 thought that if he went to the upper lobby, he 
 should enjoy a species of malignant triumph over 
 his old friend, by beholding him depart either 
 on foot or else in a hired vehicle. So after a 
 moment's hesitation he said, "Yes, by all means, 
 Miss Barrington ! I will go as far as the upuer 
 lobby 1" 
 
 There was now a vast amount of leave-taking ; 
 for every one of the prisoners in that particular 
 compartment of the gaol pressed forward to shake 
 hands with old Mr. Barrington — and many of 
 them with Winifred also. At length the cere- 
 mony was finished, and the little party began 
 moving along the avenues towards the principal 
 portals of tho establishment. The turnkeys whom 
 they passed, shook hands cordially with the old 
 captive who was going forth to freedom : they 
 likewise shook hands with Winifred — and now 
 they had the kind word for her as formerly ; for 
 all their suspicions and misgivings against her 
 were for the moment lost sight of or absorbed in 
 other considerations. Winifred had prepared 
 liberal gratuities for the turnkeys,— several little 
 packets, each containing two or three sovereigns; 
 and these she had given to her grandfather that 
 he might bestow them as he passed through the 
 respective gates or l,jbbies of the prison-officials. 
 At length the upper lobby was reached : bands 
 were shaken with the senior turnkey; and a little 
 packet a trifle heavier than the former ones, was 
 left in his grasp. Then the gate of the prison 
 was thrown open. 
 
 " My God ! I am really free !" murmured old 
 Barrington, as his foot crossed the threshold; and 
 he would have fallen under the influence of ths 
 feelings which suddenly seized upon him, had h9 
 not clung fast to Winifrod'a arm. " Good bye, 
 Eobus ! God bless you, Eobus !" he §aid, turning 
 round to bestow a parting shake of the hand ou 
 the prisoner whom he had left behind. 
 
 " Well, good bye, Mr. Barrington," aoswerei
 
 361 
 
 on, DEACTT AST PLEASCKE. 
 
 Kobu9. "I wish jou joy of your freedom with 
 all my heart : but I perbaps should have been 
 better pleased if the vaunt and the tow " 
 
 " You may look out if you like, Mr. Robus," 
 laid the senior turnkey, who was in a most exeel- 
 lent humour, from the circumstance of having by 
 this time aecertaioed that the little packet which 
 had been slipped into bis hand, had made bim 
 richer than he previously was to the extent of five 
 geld pieces: "look out, Mr. Ivobus, if you like ! 
 There ! go down on the first step, sir— pray don't 
 stand on ceremony — I know you are a gentleman 
 and won't take advantage of a good-natured act 
 by bolting off hie a shot." 
 
 And Mr. Eobus availed himself of the head 
 turnkey's permission : he crossed the threshold- 
 he descended a step of the half-dozen leading up 
 to the gate. But Ah! what meant that ejacula- 
 tion of joy which burst from old Barrington's 
 lips, and which was echoed by one of astonish- 
 ment, not altogether unmingled with vexation, 
 from the lips of Mr. Kobus ? An elegant equipage 
 was at the door — a carriage with a pair of horses ; 
 and that everything was quite new, was proved 
 by the harness as well as by the liveries of the 
 coachman and footman. 
 
 " Winifred !" cried the old man : and he could 
 tay no more— but the tears gushed out from his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Well, dear grandfather," responded Winifred, 
 in a low tone, and with hasty utterance, " there 
 was plenty of money left after paying all the 
 debts — and so I thought " 
 
 " Good bye, Eobus !" vociferated the old man, 
 turning round and flinging a parting word of 
 triumph at his cynical friend. " After all, it was 
 no idle vaunt, and the vow is not broken; for I 
 ehall ride away in my own carriage !" 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 LJTEE T] 
 
 t E L E A S E. 
 
 Mb. Basbihgton was free. The equipage drove 
 to Mrs. Slater's bouse ; and in a few minutes the 
 old man was installed in the handsome suite of 
 aparlments prepared for his accommodation. Over 
 and over again did he embrace Winifred ; and 
 over and over again did she murmur, " Thank 
 heaven, you have at length left that dreadful 
 place 1" 
 
 It at first appeared to be a dream, alike to the 
 grandfather and the granddaughter ; and through- 
 out the remainder of that day they could speak of 
 naught beside. An elegant repast was served up 
 between five and six o'clock in the evening; but 
 they could scarcely do justice to it— their hearts 
 were too full to allow scope for appetite. They 
 retired to rest early; for Winifred said to her 
 grandfather, " When you awake in the morning, 
 jou will feel more settled." 
 
 On the ensuing day, while they were seated to- 
 gether at breakfast, old Mr. Barrington said, 
 " Now tell me, Winnie dear, how matters stand at 
 
 present 1 mean, you know, in respect to 
 
 money-affairs? — because it is still a couple of 
 months before the Chancery suit can be decided — 
 
 though It must be settled in my favour neit Terin 
 eh, dear Winnie- eh?" 
 
 " Look !" said Winifred ; " here is an exact 
 account of all recent transactions. First you note 
 that the sum of fourteen thousand five hundred 
 pounds was bought ioto the Bank in my name 
 about nine months ago. With the interest you 
 may call it fifteen thousand. Thirteen thousand 
 have been spent In procuring your release. My 
 expenditure— a variety of things that have been 
 purchased " 
 
 "Yes, yes — I see!" said the old man; "and 
 then there is the carriage — with the horses, har- 
 ness, liveries Doubtless Mr. Wardour's taate^ 
 
 Winifred f" 
 
 " No," she responded, in a soft voice, at the 
 same time quickly bending down her head ; foe 
 her cheeks were suffused with blushes. 
 
 "Not Mr. Wardour?" ejaculated the old maor 
 but he did not perceive his granddaughter's emo- 
 tion, for bis eyes were still fixed upon the paper 
 which she had handed bim. "Then who assisted 
 you in buying that handsome carriage and choos- 
 ing those beautiful horses ? You must have had 
 some male adviser— eh f " 
 
 "Do you find that amount right? " asked Wini- 
 fred, trembling very much, and still full of con- 
 fusion. 
 
 " Well, I see that we have upwards of thirteen 
 hundred pounds standing over " 
 
 " And that sum is at a banker's, my dear grand- 
 father," exclaimed Winifred ; " and here is the 
 
 pass-book— and there is the cheque-book and 
 
 as it all stands in your name, your drafts will be 
 acknowledged !" 
 
 " Ah ! this is excellent ! capital I" cried old Bar- 
 rington, rubbing his hands gleefully. " To be able 
 to write cheques once more !" and his fingers itched 
 to begin filling up a draft. " I must go and sea 
 
 Eobus. I— I don't think me vain and foolish, 
 
 Winnie but I'll just take the bank-book to 
 
 show him for a moment merely to prove that 
 
 after all we are somebody " 
 
 " Now do listen to me, dear grandfather," said 
 Winifred, speaking very seriously. " I do not for 
 a moment wish you to desert old friends or to for- 
 get those poor creatures whom you have left be- 
 hind in gaol. But I nevertheless think that you 
 have had enough of prison to be anxious to avoid 
 it for the remainder of your life, rather than to 
 seek it. You will do no good by penetrating with, 
 in those walls i on the contrary, you will do your- 
 self harm — because you will still be associating 
 your habits and tastes with matters that savour of 
 a gaol. This you must avoid, dear grand- 
 father " 
 
 " Well, well, Winnie," said the old man. '• But 
 the dinner which I promised to give those fel- 
 
 "The dinner shall be given," responded Wini- 
 fred ; " but there is not the slightest necessity for 
 you to be present at it." 
 
 "Eh? what?" ejaculated old Barrington: 
 "why, Winnie, I— I — rather thought — I— I — 
 should preside on the occasion ?" 
 
 " No," said Winifred, firmly yet kindly ; " there 
 is not the slightest necessity for you to take this 
 course. Remain away from the prison — I be- 
 seech you to remain away from it! The dinner 
 shall be given : I will go and issue orders at once
 
 iGHES; OK, BEAUTY AND PLBAStTEB. 
 
 M3 
 
 make the necessary pu 
 eave it ail to jou," said the 
 
 Mn. Slater shall 
 
 " Well, Winifred, I 
 grandfather : " but let the dinner be a good one, 
 for my credit's sake. Eobus shan't have an oppor- 
 tunity of saying that 1 hare flown from my pro- 
 mise ! And I think, dear Winnie, that we will 
 have the carriage presently " 
 
 "Yes: and to dav you shall drive info the 
 Parks, dear grandfather," esclaimed Winifred : 
 "you shall visit all the liveliest scenes I And per- 
 haps we will make a call or two ; for you must 
 go in person to thauk Miss Evelyn for all her 
 kindness towards me, as well as her generous inter- 
 vention with Mrs. Hardress for the purpose of pro- 
 curing that document which after being for a while 
 lost was yesterday restored, for the accomplishment 
 
 of 
 
 ' deli< 
 
 " Ah ! and perhaps we shall see Mr. Hargrave ?" 
 
 suggested old Mr. Barrington ; " and he will give 
 
 us news of Gustavus." 
 
 ! *' Yes," interrupted Winifred ; " no doubt we 
 
 j ehall soon see Mr. Hargrave. In fact, my dear 
 
 1 grandfather, there is plenty upon our hands to while 
 away the time for the present. And then too," 
 she added, more slowly and with hesitation alike in 
 her looks and her voice, " after dinner to-day, my 
 dear grandfather, I mean to speak to you about 
 
 something But no matter now !" she ejaculated, 
 
 thus suddenly interrupting herself. " Here are 
 the newspapers — amuse yourself with them, while 
 I go and give instructions to Mrs. Slater to see 
 about the banquet for the prisoners." 
 
 Winifred issued from the drawing room, and 
 
 descended the stairs. The maid-servant was at 
 
 the moment at the front door receiving some 
 
 articles which a tradesman's boy was delivering. 
 
 I WiDifred inquired if Mrs. Slater were in her own 
 
 , room ? — to which query the answer was that she 
 
 I had just gone out for a few minutes. AVinifred 
 
 was on the point of returning towards the etair- 
 
 I case again, when some one rushed hastily up to 
 
 ! the door of the bouse. That individual at once 
 
 I caught sight of the young lady's retreating form : 
 
 and tbe name of " Winifred " was ejaculated from 
 
 hia lipa. 
 
 "Gustavus!" and it was with a still more wild 
 •nddenness that this name was thrown 07 from 
 the tongue of Winifred. 
 
 He rushed into the hall passage,— he was on 
 the point of clasping Winifred in hia arms, when 
 ehe held herself back, and presented her hand in a 
 manner which at once convinced her cousin that a 
 certain distance and reserve must be maintaioed 
 betwixt them. Winifred had all in a moment re- 
 covered her presence of mind ; and throwing open 
 tbe door of Mrs. Slater's sittiog-room, she said, 
 *■ Come here, Gustavus." 
 
 And now the cousins were again together, — yes, 
 again together after an interval of seven months 
 since last they met ! Winifred was pale, but out- 
 wardly calm ; and there was an expression of sad- 
 ness over that calmness ; but a certain degree of 
 dignity and sell-possessioa were likewise apparent 
 in her mien. She sat down, at tbe same time in- 
 dicating a chair at a short distance for the accom- 
 modation of Gustavus. She now looked at him 
 more attentively than she had hitherto been 
 •oabled to do ; she perceived that he had a fear- 
 fully careworn look— he was tbin, almost to emaci- 
 
 ation — he was pale and haggard — and there was 
 also a wildoess in his eyes, as if veritably those 
 orbs had a certain glare of horror in them. Qa 
 the last occasion they had met, be it remembered 
 that the appearance of Gustavus was that of one 
 who had become addicted to dissipation and begun 
 to steep himself in debaucheries : but now hia ap- 
 pearance was of a still more fearful character — it 
 had in it something which seemed to indicate that 
 wild feelings had been accustomed to agitate io 
 the soul of late, and that the mind was far from 
 unfamiliar with horrible thoughts. All this struck 
 not Winifred at the first glance ; but it gradually 
 dawned in upon her comprehension as she bad now 
 leisure to contemplate her cousin's countenance. 
 Tbe effect was to shock her most forcibly ; and she 
 eat in a silence that was gradually blending with 
 the stupor of dismay. He on his part seemed at 
 a loss what words to speak ; so that it appeared as 
 if he had been in the first instance led by some 
 strong purpose or impelled by some powerful 
 motive to seek Winifred, but at the instant of 
 finding himself in her presence the purpose and 
 motive both were forgotten— confusion on account 
 of the present was blending with horror arising 
 from the images of the past ! 
 
 Winifred was the first to break this singular 
 silence; and she said in a voice that was only pre- 
 vented by the slightest degree of tre.nulousness 
 from being wholly calm, " You are again in Eng- 
 land, Gustavus. Let me hope that it is nothing 
 unpleasant which brings you hither ? at all events 
 I have some agreeable tidings to communicate. 
 Mr. Hargrave called yesterday morning ; and yes- 
 terday afternoon" — hero her voice vibrated with 
 a strong feeling for a moment — " our grandfather 
 was restored to freedom !" 
 
 " God be thanked !" said Gustavus, in a tone 
 that was sombre and hollow, instead of being 
 flexible and harmonious with exulting joy: "that 
 good deed is at last accomplished— and I have no 
 longer upon my head the crime of perpetuating 
 his imprisonment ! Oh, Winifred ! did you not 
 reproach me bitterly, bitterly ?" 
 
 "Gustavus," she replied, "we will not now 
 speak of the past. Our granifather is in the room 
 above — will you not at once seek his presence ? or 
 shall I in the first instance go and prepare him to 
 receive you ?" 
 
 "Xo, not immediately, Winifred," exclaimed 
 Gustavus, almost impatiently. " I will go to him 
 
 presently but in the meanwhile I wish to say 
 
 a few words to you." 
 
 Winifred hesitated for a moment : there was 
 the glistening of uneasiness in her eyes as if 
 arising from a fluttering at the heart ; and then 
 she said with composure and firmness, " I do not 
 think, Gustavus, that you can have anything to 
 say to me which may not be said in the presence 
 of our grandfather." 
 
 " Yes, Winifred !" he exclaimed, with a sudden 
 access of excitement ; "' I have much to say to 
 you ! I have to speak of things more important 
 than you can perhaps dre^m !" 
 
 " Gustavus, what means this excitement ?" 
 asked AVinifred : "of what important matters 
 can you have to speak to me ? Tell me— are you 
 happy with your wife ?" 
 
 " My wife ?"— and here for a moment his coua- 
 tenance was convulsed with horror, while hit
 
 see 
 
 S, BEA0IT JlHD PLBA3IJBB. 
 
 whole lurm Irembled as if a nild tumultuous agi- 
 tatiun wer6 sweeping through it. 
 
 " Good hcavecs !" cried AVinifred, affrighted at 
 those altered locks ; " what has happened to your 
 wile, Gustavus f Somelhiog dreadful, I fear ; for 
 jour regards " 
 
 •' 2<"o, no, Winifred ! do not attach any import- 
 ance—I mean to say that there was nothing in my 
 regards— io short, Winifred, I know not what 1 
 am saying " 
 
 " Good God, Gustavus ! This does indeed seem 
 to be only too true;"— and again did Winifred 
 gaze wiih a real affright upon the countenance of 
 her cousin. 
 
 '■ Ob, how uselessly you alarm yourself !"— and 
 Gustavus afleeted to laugh ; but there was some- 
 thing hollow and unnatural in the sound of his 
 laughter, as if it were a captive in a dungeon 
 whose attempted merriment derived a sepulchral 
 Bound from the living tomb itself. " In a word, 
 Winifred, I ought to be more happy than mise- 
 rable ; for I am released from a thraldom which you 
 know was most odious to me !— yes, liberated from 
 that tyranny which tore me avray from England 
 seven months back, without permitting me a 
 moment's leisure to return to you, or to deliver 
 the precious document into the hands of our 
 
 '■Liberated from this tyranny? freed from this 
 thraldom ?" said Winifred, repeating the words as 
 it the action were mechanical and the words them- 
 selves were meaningless,— so vacant, so uncertain 
 was her look. 
 
 '■ Yes, Winifred," resumed Gustavus ; and again 
 he essayed to chuckle— but it was a laugh which 
 did one harm to hear it : " liberated from all those 
 bonds by a power against which not even the in- 
 domitable self-will of the quadroon Emily could 
 sustain a conflict! And that pa»er, Winitred, 
 was death '." 
 
 "Death, Gustavus i'" said the young lady, with 
 
 a start. "Death ? Is Emily— your wife " she 
 
 paused and gasped' "dead?" 
 
 "Yes, dead!" was the young man's response, 
 delivered in the gloomiest tone and with the most 
 sombre look. 
 
 " Dead 1" repeated Winifred ; and there was an- 
 other pause : and then she added, "But, Ob, Gus- 
 tavus ! how light you seem to treat the loss of your 
 wife ! No— not lightly ! I scarcely know how to 
 describe it ; for though there is laughter on your 
 lips, there is horror in your looks. Oh, my God ! 
 Gustavus, the effect which all this produces upon 
 me is something terrible ! Ah, I fear to give 
 utterance to the hideous thought !— but. Oh '. 
 heaven forgive you, Gustavus, it in a moment of 
 desperation, goaded to madness by the very despot- 
 ■la of a wife's jealous love — you have done aught 
 ircadfui:" 
 
 '•What, Winifred! do you think- do you— do 
 you "—and the youth gasped, while his counte- 
 nance was so haggard— Ob, so pale and haggard! 
 — " do you think that I laid a violent hand " 
 
 "Just God! I kno» not what to think!" ejacu- 
 lated the young lady, whose recent firmness and 
 self-possession were all rapidly losing themselves 
 in a terrible eicitement. " Answer me, Gustavus 
 —answer me as if it were the voice of heaven 
 itself demanding an account of your wife — even as 
 heaie&'s Tuice in the beginning of the world de- 
 
 manded from the first murderer an aoooont of hit 
 brotier !" 
 
 " Murderer !" — and it was in a hollow tone and 
 with a shuddering form that the youth thus 
 echoed the fearful word; while all the details of tha 
 frightful scene at the cliff in Jamaias swept likes 
 horrible phantasmagoria before his imagination- 
 
 " Gustavus !" almost shrieked forth Winifred, 
 " what means all this ? Why have you risen up 
 like a ghost before me, as if to proclaim something 
 dreadful to my ears ?" 
 
 At this moment the young man exercised an 
 almost preterhuman power over himself: be be- 
 came immediately calm and self-possessed- at least 
 outwardly so ; and therefore it was an unnatural 
 tranquillity which thus seized upon him: but it 
 was sufficient to deceive Winifred for a space— for 
 she began to think that she must have cruelly 
 wronged and outraged him with her wild suspi- 
 cions, as he said, " Cousin, I know not wherefore 
 we should be thus exciting ourselves. My wife is 
 dead. It was no more my fault that she died 
 than if any other human being were to put • 
 period to an existence which had suddenly became 
 intolerable." 
 
 "Ah!" said Winifred, shuddering: " then I 
 begin to understand ! Tour unfortunate wife 
 committed suicide— and the deed has left such a 
 horrible impression upon your mind " 
 
 "Yes, Winifred!" interjected Gustavus; "it is 
 thus that you may account for any wild words 
 which may dow from my lips, as well as for any 
 horror that there may be in my looks. Sut did 
 not Mr. Hargrave tell you anything? did he not 
 give you any explanations?" 
 
 " He gave me none," ejaculated Winifred. " He 
 simply assured me that it was not your fault the 
 document had not been before delivered : he pro- 
 mised to call again, and enter more explicitly into 
 details. Alas ! I fear that those details must be 
 sad, judging from all that has hitherto fallen from 
 your lips." 
 
 " Sad indeed ! " quickly replied Gustavus, — 
 "mure than sad !— fearful! atrocious! Oa the 
 day that I parted from you seven months ajo, I 
 met my ivife, who suspecting that I was here 
 with you, had come to. seek me. She lured me 
 back to the hotel, by specious promises tha\ she 
 herself would presently accompany me to visit 
 my grandfather and then to call upon you. She 
 made me drink wine — she must have drugged 
 that wine — I su^^pected it not fhen—l suspected it 
 not indeed until months afterwards, when all tie 
 blackness of ber wickedness suddenly burst upon 
 me like a storm-cloud ! But that it was so 1 
 have now no doubt 1 Therefore was it that under 
 the influence of narcotics I was taken on board a 
 ship : when I returned to consciousness the vess^-l 
 was under weigh— and to go back was impossible I 
 Emily soothed and tranquillized me with the 
 falsest and most treacherous representations: she 
 declared that she had forwarded the document to 
 my grandsire, accompanied with the kindest mes- 
 sages to you both. On that point I was conse- 
 quently satislied." 
 
 " Ob, this was indeed very, very bad I" said 
 Winifred : and then with her' natural generosity 
 of heart, she added, " But no* that yuut unfor- 
 tunate wile is no more— and sincv, after all, the 
 documcQt has come into our possession, and baa
 
 3!fEB; OE, EBATJTT AND PLBAStTKE. 
 
 effectoH its object— we Kill not speak harshljf of 
 the perishefi one." 
 
 " No — *twere useless !" responded Gustarus. 
 "But listen to the sequel. Esactly two months 
 back I received your letter. It was your sccoud 
 letter, 'Winirted ; for the former one— the one 
 whereof you spoke in that second communication 
 —had been intercepted ; yes, intercepted by the 
 guilty Emily — and I never received it !" 
 
 "Alas, poor Gustavus!" said Winifred compas- 
 sionately. " And thus it was not until you re- 
 ceived that second letter " 
 
 " Not till tlicn," added the young man, " that 
 I knew the precious document bad not been for- 
 warded to my grandsire according to promise. I 
 was maddened with grief and rage. 1 flew to 
 search in Emily's drawers and boxes — I found the 
 document. Ah ! I should observe that Mr. Har- 
 gravB was with me at the time. He oflcred to 
 bring the deed to Eogland; and I thankfully ac- 
 cepted the service at his hands ; for at that mo- 
 ment 1 was very far from suspecting or foreseeing 
 that I myself was on the point of leaving the 
 atores of Jamaica. Mr. Hargrave bade me fare- 
 well :— we separated. Within that same hour I 
 met my wife : it was upon the cliffs toneriug high 
 above the sea, which lay at the foot of the escarped 
 precipice. Tatal spot for such an encounter, where 
 one of the two thus meeting k&b to overwhelm the 
 other with the bitterest accusings, and that other 
 was to be seized trith ai. the delirium arising from 
 flagrant exposure and a consciousness of damning 
 
 " Good heavens!" said Winifred, starting up in 
 horror from her chair: but instantaneously reseat- 
 ing herself, as she was struck by the remembrance 
 that the least imprudence on her part would betray 
 to her cousin the secret that she was in a way to 
 become a mother, she added, " And thus it was in 
 a moment of frenzy that: the unfortunate Emily 
 precipitated herself " 
 
 "Yes— it was so," rejoined Gustavus. "No 
 eye beheld the deed save mine and the all-seeing 
 gaio of heaven ! I rushed away in madness from 
 the spot : I dared not return to my home— 1 felt 
 that I might be accused as a murderer and pun- 
 ished as one!" 
 
 " Ah !" said Winifred, in a low Toice, and clasp- 
 ing her hands with an evident sense of strong ter- 
 ror, as she flung a retrospective look over the recent 
 circumstances of her own life; " there are cases 
 in which circumstantial evidence does indeed make 
 the most terrible combinations for the overwhelm- 
 iodividual! But what did you 
 
 nforlu 
 
 " I sped to Kingston. I knew that there was 
 a packet to depart that very day, and in which 
 Mr. Hargrave was likewise to leave Jamaica. Bat 
 when I reached Kingston I found that the steam- 
 TCssel was already gone. Fortunately that very 
 evening there was another ship to leave ; and I 
 took my passage therein. I know from inquiry 
 that I must have set foot in Eogland cnly twenty- 
 four hours later than Mr. Hargrave himself; and 
 what you ere now said, has confirmed the fact. 
 I am here, Winifred : 1 am here once nore, — free ! 
 released from that horrible thraldom which arose 
 from a combination of circumstances, producing 
 an infatuation on which 1 now look back with 
 astonishment !" 
 
 "Enough, Gustavus!" said Winifred; "you 
 have told mc your tale — and it is a shocking one. 
 Forgive me, my dear cousin, if for a moment 
 misled by your wild words and affrighted by your 
 still wilder looks, I miiijadged you so cruelly !" 
 
 "Oh, I forgive you, Winifred !" exclaimed Gus- 
 tavus enthusiastically: "for of how much have 
 you not forgiven me !" 
 
 " And now come," said the young lady, " and 
 be received in the arms of your grandsire. Or 
 rather go you alone to him— leave me here for the 
 present " 
 
 "I cannot go yet to him, Winifred — neither 
 can I yet leave you!" exclaimed Gustavus. "It 
 is for you first of uU to sot my mind at rest— to 
 tranquillize me by the assurance that all the past 
 is forgiven, and that it may possibly be forgotten ! 
 — my perfidy towards you " 
 
 "Everything is forgiven, Gustavus," answered 
 his cousin seriously. "With that assurance must 
 you be contented. And now go and seek your 
 grandsire." 
 
 "Not so, Winifred! You must tell me yeii 
 more than you have hitherto said ! It is not when 
 only two months a widower, I would be so indeli- 
 cate as to propose that I may speedily conduct you 
 to the altar -" 
 
 " Gustavus '." almost shrieked forth Winifred : 
 and her small beautifully white hand made a 
 sudden movement towards the bosom of her dress. 
 
 "Oh! is it possible that I have become an ob- 
 ject of loathing and abhorrence unto you?" ha 
 crierl, starting up from his seat. " Ah ! tell me 
 this, Winifred — and it will be the crowning of all 
 my miseries! Tell me this -and it will be to de- 
 prive me of the last gleam of hop© that can pos- 
 sibly smile upon my existence! Oh, tell me this, 
 I repeat— and full soon will I imitate the example 
 of my wretched Emily, hy putting a period to my 
 still more wretched lifs !" 
 
 " Gustavus," said Winifred, now seeing the ne- 
 cessity of tranquillizing her own emotions that she 
 might, if possible, calm and soothe down those of 
 her cousin, " we have both seen sufficient calamity 
 in this world to teach us lessons whicii few persona 
 ot our age are accustomed to learn. You must 
 exercise the power of self control — you must in- 
 dulge in no dreams that cannot be realized, and 
 grasp at no shadows that will only delude you!" 
 
 "Do \ou mean me to understand, Winifred," 
 asked Gustavus, in a low trembling voice, " that 
 everything is at an end between us ?" 
 
 Winifred did not immediately answer him- She 
 looked at him steadily, as a p rson measures with 
 the eye some one at whom a deadly weapon is 
 about to be cast. But at length she said, " Every- 
 thing, Gustavus, of the nature to which you allude, 
 
 The young man gave a sadden start, as if he 
 were moved by desperation's self: then he looked 
 strangely upon Winifred— and he said, " You no 
 longer love me !" 
 
 "I love you as a cousin— I love you as a 
 brother," she responded, firmly yet lowly ; "and as 
 a relation shall I ever love you. Beyond that, 
 
 " Beyond that, Winifred ?" — and he trembled 
 visibly, while his countenance was deadly pale and 
 bis ashy lips quivered. 
 
 " Beyond that there is nothing," she reicined.
 
 nfis 
 
 with thecalDi resolu 
 
 OE, BEADTY AND PLBASaBE. 
 
 5 who was determined 
 to bring matters to a climax, rather than leave be. 
 bind aught that might torture with suspense or 
 excite a hope which might eud in bitterest dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 " Ah, then, Winifred !" said Gustavus, with 
 eometbing of a subdued fierceness in bis accents, 
 *' I have indeed become unto ^ou an object of 
 aversion ! You cannot forgive my perfidy— you 
 ere vindictive " 
 
 " Vindictive, Gustavus ?" esclaimed Winifred ; 
 "1 vindictive! Oh, no! no! But"— and ber deli- 
 cately. formed hand again made a movement 
 towards the bosom of her dress, and then she re* 
 strained herself in whatsoever she was about 
 
 " You have ceased to love me," said Gustavus ; 
 " and the only hope which has brought me across 
 Che seas is destroyed ! Better, better far, that 1 
 had hurled myself from the precipice down which 
 the guilty Emily in the madness of her despair 
 sought the path to oblivion ! But I will not live ! 
 Winifred, I love you. Fur the last two months I 
 have been asking myself why it was that I was 
 never completely happy with Emily — why it was 
 that in my own self there was something which 
 inspired her with that mistrust which engendered 
 i all those watchings and foUowings, all that super- 
 , version and surveillance, all those plots and 
 j machinations, which constituted the monstrous 
 tyranny of ber conduct towards me. And I have 
 found that it was because I loved her not with that 
 pure and sacred passion which a husband should 
 experience towards a wife. And why not? Because 
 I loved another. And that other, Winifred, was 
 you !" 
 
 " Gustavus !" she exclaimed, with a sort of 
 horror in ber looks; " this is language to which 1 ; 
 cannot listen !" 
 
 " You cannot, Winifred ?" cried Gustavus. 
 " But such words, coming from the lips of a i 
 female, signify that she loves another ! Ah, is it j 
 eo, Winifred ! Yes, yes!— you love another ! — 
 and Oh, therefore you never, never loved me !" 
 
 At this moment the door opened ; and the ser- j 
 vant-maid looked into the room for an instant, 
 saying, " Miss BarringtoD, if you please, a 
 
 lady " 
 
 But the domestic stopped short, as if the lady 
 whom she was about to announce had either im- 
 periously silenced ber with a gesture, or else had 
 laid upon her a strong hand to pull her back from 
 the doorway. Be this at it might, certain it was 
 that the girl abruptly disappeared— a lady entered 
 — she was closely veiled— and she closed the door 
 behind her. She was well but plainly dressed ; 
 and though her countenance was utterly concealed 
 by the sable veil, yet her figure — her height — her 
 ■carriage — in a word, her entire bearing, struck 
 Gustavus with a horrible consternation. At the 
 same instant a wild suspicion dashed through 
 Winifred's mind. 
 
 The lady advanced a few paces from the door ; 
 and stopping short, she threw back her veil with 
 startling abruptness. The consternation on the 
 part of Gustavus was only too well justified by 
 the fact : the vaguely wild suspicion of Winifred 
 was as rapidly confirmed. For it was the qua- 
 druoE Emily who stood before them ! 
 
 CIIAPTEK LXXI. 
 
 GuSTAVUB was riveted to the spot in speechless 
 dismay — horror paralysing all the purposes of his 
 soul. The quadroon's eyes flashed not forth fires 
 as was their wont during former scenes of excite- 
 ment and crisis: but they now burnt with a 
 steady lustre, which was all the more fearfully 
 luminous on account of being so sinister. Her 
 lips were firmly compressed : her entire attitude 
 was that of resolution inexorable on her own side 
 and irresistible on the part of any other. As for 
 Winifred, she had mechanically sprung up from 
 hor seat : she now stood gazing upon the appa- 
 rition of the dusky daughter of Jamaica — for an 
 apparition did she really seem to be ! Thus was 
 it that under the influence which the startling 
 event produced upon ber, Winifred stood in the 
 attitude that most naturally denoted the mingled 
 bewilderment and terror to which she was a prey. 
 She forgot at the moment everything connected 
 with herself, and the necessity of so disposing her 
 posture and carriage as to conceal the secret to 
 which we have before alluded. 
 
 The quadroon gazed fixedly upon Gustavus for 
 nearly a minute, as if to rivet him with the fasci- 
 nating power of a serpent: and then she slowly 
 bent her eyes upon Winifred. A slight starf 
 might have been perceptible on the part of tha 
 quadroon as her looks settled upon Winifred i 
 then sbe gazed with a steady scrutiny — and thea 
 she averted ber eyes, while her rich red lips 
 wreathed for a moment with a smile that was 
 barely comprehensible, but which might bare been 
 that of mingled scorn and triumph. 
 
 "Gustavus," she said, — and now the young 
 man himself started with a violent abruptness, 
 as if he were a corpse being galvanized into sud- 
 den vitality, — " Gustavus, it is no apparition 
 whom you behold ; but your wife Emily who has 
 come across the seas to claim you as a busbaad, 
 and who demands that you at once follow her 
 hence !" 
 
 The youth gazed upon her with an indescribable 
 expression of mingled misery and horror in his 
 looks : for though he was no longer under the 
 influence of a preternatural terror, yet did he re- 
 gard her as if it were his evil genius that was now- 
 confronting him face to face. Winifred had re- 
 sumed ber seat, painfully wondering how this 
 scene would end— but with feelings too excited to 
 allow her to reflect upon the possibility that she 
 might have betrayed the secret of her own con- 
 
 " Miss Barrington," said Emily,—" for I believe 
 you are still Miss Barrington — at least the ser- 
 vant spoke of you as such" — and here there was 
 another slight smile of irony curling the qua- 
 droon's rich red lips, — " towards you I have no 
 animosity. I know that you did not invite your 
 cousin hither — I know likewise that he has 
 scarcely been half-an-hour in your company .: 
 therefore I have no ill-feeling " 
 
 "Ob, Madam!" said Winifred, " from all that 
 I have heard, you entertain no good feeling to- 
 wards my poor grandfather and myself 1 But lot
 
 AGNES : OK, BEAUTT AND PLEASURE. 
 
 .""^^ "l^"^^ "^^%^^'^'^^ 
 
 that pas«. Gualavu?, is it possible that jou de. 
 ceived me with a false tale f " 
 
 " Winifred, he has not deceived you," said the 
 quadrooD. ** if be have told you that " 
 
 Here Gustavus burst forth into a sort of hys- 
 terical laugh : it sounded like the laugh of a 
 maniac ; — and he exclaimed, " By heaven, this is 
 a fine complication I But I will not go with you, 
 Emily ! You have lost your power over me !— the 
 spells no longer exist ! It is true I am your hus- 
 band — and I shall exercise the husband's privi- 
 lege, by asserting a tight to command ; while you 
 as a wife shall obey. First of all, therefore, leave 
 this house !" 
 
 It was a smile ineffably scornful which row 
 curled the quadroon's lips : and her eyes at this 
 moment had something most mockingly sinister in 
 tb«ir luminous vibrations. 
 
 " Tou command, and I obey P" she aaid, io a 
 No. 47.— .ASVBS. 
 
 tone of sovereign sarcasm. "Ko! in thie case thn 
 order of things is reversed! You shall come with 
 me. Hark !— one word in your ear !" 
 
 "Ko— not a word !" ejaculated Gustavus, recoil, 
 ing from her with the most unfeigned terror. 
 " Everything that comes from your lips has hitherto 
 been false, and will prove false again ! Depart ! I 
 remain here with those relatives whom 1 hav» 
 hitherto neglected too long and too cruelly !" 
 
 "Do not provoke me!" exclaimed Emily; "or 
 like a tigress will I fly at you!"— ami now her 
 eyes flashed forth the most vivid lightni«g3. 
 
 "Come on!" said Gustavus, who had che air of 
 one that was driven to desperation ; " and if you 
 spring at me like a tigress, I as a lion will resist 
 and meet you!" 
 
 It actually seemed as if a fearful contest were 
 about to rage between the two; so that Winilr."!, 
 aflfrighted tu a degree that again made her iose all
 
 3T9 
 
 AONES ; OB, BBAUTT ASD FLEA80BB. 
 
 power o( eelf'Control and all preaecce of miod, 
 •praog up from her seat to ruth between them or 
 to eeek assislaoco. 
 
 " Ah ! jou would remain here ?" ejaculated 
 Emilj, thus addressing her husband; and there 
 was again a withering sarcasm in her tone, " Is 
 it to listen to the drirelliogs of your grandsire ?— 
 or to father the child of which your cousin will 
 soon become the mother ?" 
 
 A cry burst from Winifred's lips : then she made 
 an effort to speak— at the same time making an 
 endeavour likewise to thrust her hand into the 
 bosom of her dress. But a faintness suddenly 
 came over her — she tottered to a sofa, and sank 
 thereon, deprived of consciousness. Gustavus, 
 electrified by the declaration which the quadroon 
 had made, flung his startled looks upon his cousin 
 as she thus staggered towards that sofa ; and it 
 was with utter consternation and dismay that he 
 beheld the evidence of the truth of the assertion 
 thrown out from the lips of his wife. 
 
 Gustavus was confounded ; and he stood with 
 staring eyes riveted upon the inanimate form of 
 his cousin, who now lay stretched upon the sofa. 
 His face was ghastly pale : it seemed as if some 
 calamity more hideous and horrible than any which 
 as yet in his life-time he had known, had just smit- 
 ten him. 
 
 *' But no !" he suddenly ejaculated : " Winifred 
 cannot be guilty ! Depend upon it she is mar- 
 ried !" 
 
 " Married ?" echoed the quadroon — but there 
 was utter scornfulness in her voice. " And why, 
 therefore, do they call her Miss JBarringtan 7" 
 
 '* True I my God, 'tis true ! ' cried Gustavus. 
 "But, Oh I it must have been some stupendous 
 treachery that could have made Winifred its vic- 
 tim ! Never was there a purer soul!— never were 
 there better principles innate in the heart of wo- 
 man ! Yes — pure and virtuous " 
 
 " Enough of this ridiculous eulogy !" interposed 
 the quadroon, seizing her husband violently by the 
 arm. "'Tie better that she should be lying there 
 unconscious now ! — 'twill avoid a scene ! Come 
 with me, Gustavus !" added Emily in a peremptory 
 tone; "come with me at once, 1 demand ! Tiiis is 
 no place for you— and you owe me all possible 
 atonement!" 
 
 "Emily, I will not go with you," responded her 
 husband. "No— I will not!" 
 
 " Ah ! we shall see !" ejaculated the quadroon. 
 " Now will I breathe in your ear the few words to 
 which you would not ere now suffer me to give 
 utterance. Murderer in intention ! you shall obey 
 me, or I hand you over to the grasp of justice! 
 The English law takes cognizance of a crime com- 
 mitted in an English colony !" 
 
 Gustavus was smitten with the truth of the 
 words just epoken ; he again became as white as a 
 sheet; and he gasped forth, "No, Emily — you 
 would not persecute me to such an extent! — you 
 would not be so cruel!" 
 
 " Once again, Gustavus, let me tell you that this 
 is no place for you ! Come with me — and let us 
 calmly and deliberately speak of our own position, 
 and decide how we are to act and on what terms 
 wo shall live for the future." 
 
 " All that is settled in a moment, Emily !" said 
 Gustavus, with a species of doggedness in his tone. 
 "I will not live with you!" 
 
 " Then beware of the vengeance you will pro. 
 voke !" responded the quadroon : and her eyea 
 flashed vivid lightnings. " Forth from my lips 
 shall go the declaration that you are a murderer; 
 —a murderer in intent— a base cowardly assassin, 
 who sought to doom his own wife to the most hor- 
 rible of deaths ! Yes — all this will I proclaim ! 
 It shall reach tje ears of justice — it shall render 
 your name infamous throughout the world ! Now, 
 Gustavus, will you come with me?— because the 
 very next moment that the word Ifo issue* from 
 your lips, will I raise my voice to proclaim what 
 you are !" 
 
 Gustavus reflected that it would be much better 
 not to provoke a scandal in the house. X glance 
 thrown at his cousin, showed him that she wa( 
 still deprived of consciousness ; and though he now 
 thought far less highly of her than he had .pre- 
 viously done, yet he was loath to have bis name 
 associated with the dread term murderer in her 
 hearing. He thought too of his grandfather, 
 whose feelings he was likewise anxious to spare; 
 and moreover he knew that Emily was perfectly 
 capable of fulfilling her threat by handing him 
 over to the grasp of justice. All things considered, 
 he saw at a glance that it was bctt«r to place a 
 seal on Emily's lips, at least for the present; and 
 he said, " I will go with you — I will go with yoo, 
 Emily, if you will allow me to put one question to 
 my cousin!" 
 
 " And what is that question ?" demanded the 
 quadroon. 
 
 I " I would ask her the name of her sedi 
 joined the young man, 'that I might know on 
 whom a signal vengeance is to be wreakeil !" 
 
 " Tis useless !" said tlie quadroon firmly. *' You 
 are not to become the champion of your cousin,— 
 you who are bound to devote your lite unto an- 
 other!" 
 
 " Another time," thought Gustavus to himself, 
 " I will learn the truth of all this !"— then bending 
 bis eyes upon Emily, hesiid with mingled dogged- 
 ness and fierceness, " I am ready to follow yoo, 
 I Madam. Lead the way." 
 
 j " -IftKiaw 7" echoed the quadroon, for a moment 
 I starting with indignation— »[jile the rich red bUud 
 mantled in her cheeks through the transparent duski- 
 ness of her skin, and she Huog a li^jbtning glance 
 \ upon her husband. " But no matter !" she mut- 
 tered between her brilliant teeth; "I will conquer 
 — I will subdue him ! I will make him crouch at my 
 feet! I will now so completely break bis spirit 
 that never more shall he be enabled to assert his 
 own will in opposition to mine!" 
 
 Gustavus beheld the angry aspect of his wife ; 
 but little recked he for it now : other thoughtsand 
 considerations were in his mind; and it was in a 
 mood of gloomy sullenness that he accompanied her 
 from the house. 
 
 Winifred awoke to consciousness ; and as she 
 sat up on the sofa where she had been lying, she 
 glanced vacantly around the room, with the idea 
 that she had been passing through the phases of 
 
 re. I 
 
 id dn 
 
 full ! 
 
 did I 
 
 break upon her that all she remembered, and all 
 she was then thinking of, consisted of the sternest 
 realities ; and clasping her hands together with the 
 most poignant anguish, she murmured, " And he 
 too! — he now looks upon me as a lost, degraded, 
 fallen creature! But all this shall end I — yes,
 
 OB, BBAOTT AND PLEASURE. 
 
 it shall end 1" she added, suddenly starting up 
 her feet: "the secret shall no longer lie liki 
 weiobt of lead upon my soul !" 
 
 The resolution to which Winifred had just coc 
 inspired her with fortitude, and even conjured up 
 the animation of happiness on her countenance. 
 She drew forth from her bosom that little velvet 
 bag of which we have before spoken : she pressed 
 it to her lips— and then, as she replaced it in tb( 
 corsage of her dress, a sunny smile remained play 
 ing upon those lips. 
 
 Winifred now became anxious to ascertain to 
 what extent the visit of her cousin and his qua. 
 droon wife was known in the house, and the nature 
 of the impression it had made: but she soon 
 covered that Mrs. Slater had not yet returned — that 
 her grandf.Uhtr was seated up-stairs in the d 
 ing-room busied with some books aud newspapers, 
 and that he had overheard nothing to make him 
 suspect anything peculiar or unusual was taking 
 place. After a little reflection, Winifred reso ' 
 not to tell the old man that Gustavus was in ] 
 land and that be had been at the house. She t 
 it would only excite her grandfather, and make him 
 ask a thousand questions in respect to the cause of 
 his sudden disappearance again without paying his 
 respects to his old relative. And then, too, Wini- 
 fred fancied that it was more than probable that 
 since Emily bad so suddenly appeared, she should 
 not very shortly see either of them again : at all 
 events she felt that if the contrary should prove to 
 bo the case, it would be time sufficient to make 
 what revelations she might think flt to her old 
 grandsire. 
 
 In the afternoon the carriage was ordered : and 
 Winifred took her grandfather for a tour about the 
 Parks. Sbc was endeavouring to amuse his mind 
 as much as possible — to keep him in an excellent 
 humour— and at the same time to make him feel 
 that her presence was indispensably necessary to 
 bis happiness. She conversed with a degree of 
 gaiety that she was seldom wont to display ; and 
 she was pleased to observe that her granJsire's 
 mood was full of cheerfulness. Tbey called at 
 Sidney "Vdla, and found Agnes Evelyn at home. 
 Most cordial was the welcome which they received 
 on the part of our beautiful heroine. It was the 
 first time that Agnes had ever seen Mr. Barrington 
 — the first time also that he had ever met the 
 young lady of whom his granddaughter had so 
 often spoken in the most alTectionale and grateful 
 terms. Agnes was unfelgnedly rejoiced to greet 
 the aged man on his liberation from so lengthened 
 a captivity ; and she inquired how it had happened 
 with so much suddenness, and at least a couple of 
 months sooner than had been expected according 
 to what Winifred had said when she aud Agnes 
 last met ? 
 
 '•■ A gentleman from Jamaica," responded Wini- 
 frel, in explanation, " arrived suddenly yesterday 
 morning ; and he brought from my cousin Gus- j 
 tavus the deed which for seven long months had 
 been wanting. This same Sir. Uargrave had on | 
 some former occasion displayed a certain degree 
 of interest in our behalf — no doubt on account of 
 Gustavus, for whom he had conceived a friend, 
 ship.'' 
 
 Having passed an hour at Sidney Yilla, old Mr. j 
 Hdrringtcii and Winifred rose to take their depar- 
 ture J and Winifred found an opportunity of has- j 
 
 371 
 
 tily whispering in the ear of her friend Miss 
 Evelyn, " I am resolved that this day shall not 
 pass without the revelation of everything to my 
 grandsire !" 
 
 " Heaven grant, my dear Winifred," replied 
 Agnes, likewise speaking in a whisper, " that all 
 may turn out for the best !" 
 
 Significant looks and kind pressures of the 
 hand were exchanged between the two young 
 ladies; and the kindhearted Rachel was waitiog 
 on the threshold of the villa to proffer her con- 
 gratulations to Mr. Barrington aud to speak a 
 friendly word to Winifred. 
 
 When the old man and his granddaughter were 
 again seated in the carriage, the footman stood 
 awaiting further orders; and Winifred desired that 
 the equipage should now return to Aldersgate 
 Street. 
 
 "JTot yet, my dear," said Mr. Barrington, — 
 " not yet ! I should like to extend our drive a 
 little, and round about this neighbourhood too." 
 
 "This neighbourhood, my dear grandfather ?" 
 said Winifred. " Why this neighbourhood ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you presently, my dear. Let the car- 
 riage drive on." 
 
 Winifred could offer no remonstrance in the pre- 
 sence of the domestics ; so the lacquey sprang up 
 to the box and resumed his seat by the side of 
 the coachman. The equipage drove onward, in- 
 stead of retracing its way into London ; and Mr. 
 Barrington kept looking from the windows, ex- 
 claiming, " Good heavens, what changes have 
 taken place !— hosr altered is the entire scene!" 
 
 " And why, my dear grandfather," asked Wini- 
 fred timidly, " have you come up into this neigh- 
 bourhood ?" 
 
 " Do I not know," exclaimed the old man, 
 " that my mortal enemy has a beautiful villa in 
 this district ? Yes, Winifred ! — twenty-six years 
 ago when I was first consigned to a gaol, all this 
 neighbourhood was but comparatively dotted with 
 houses ; and now there are whole lines of habita- 
 tions and streets and terraces — ^and amongst all 
 the beautiful retreats which during that interval 
 have sprung up here, I know from all I have 
 heard that none is more charming than Sir John 
 Dalham's villa ! Ah, Winifred ! can you guess 
 why I was this moment enabled to mention that 
 hated name with a certain degree of calmness ? 
 It is because I know the day of retribution to be 
 nigh ! I can now wait patiently for it — I can 
 look forward without excitement to its approach; 
 and then, Winifred, — th^n what vengeance will 
 
 there be " 
 
 A low moan escaped from the young lady's lips, 
 
 she threw herself back in the corner of the 
 carriage : but her grandfather noticed it not. 
 
 " And then what vengeance there will he," he 
 went on to say, ■'" for all the wrongs of the past I 
 Yes— yes '. Winnie, there shall be vengeance ! My 
 enemy, the bearer of the accursed name of D41- 
 ham, will be ruined; aud who can tell but that 
 even the very villa itself which we are now ap- 
 proaching may become our property ? I wish to 
 look upon it — to behold it — to see what it is tike 
 — to gloat over it as if it were at something that 
 
 Another moan, somewhat louder and more pro- 
 longed than the first, came from the lips of Wini. 
 fred ; and this time her grandfather noticed it.
 
 372 
 
 AGNE8; OH, BEADTT 
 
 PLEASUKB. 
 
 " Why, 'WiDoie my darling," he exclaimed, 
 " what ia the matter ? Why, you are sobbiog, I 
 declare!'* 
 
 " Do you not know — have you not suspected, 
 
 my dear grandfather how can I allude to it 
 
 — ^but here — close by— up this very lane, into 
 which the carriage is now turning " 
 
 " Ah, I forgot ! 1 forgot, my dear girl !" said 
 the old man, becoming nervous and excited. " I 
 
 would not for the world don't sob so, dear 
 
 Winnie ! what can I do ? Here where is 
 
 the checkstring ?" 
 
 " Do tothine, my dear grandfather ! do no- 
 thing!" Slid Winifred hastily. "The carriage 
 cannot turn here — the road is too narrow — 
 wo mttit pass the spot! And why should we 
 not ?" exclaimed Winifred, in a suddenly Hlter- 
 ing tone. " I can look with a calm conscience 
 
 " Ah, thank God for that, my dear child! thank 
 God for that !" ejaculated the old man. " But 
 still — but still we will not pass the spot " 
 
 " We are passing it now," said Winifred. 
 " Look ! 'twas there !" 
 
 But though she thus indicated to her grandsire 
 that scene of foul mysterious murder, yet she her- 
 self closed her eyes ; for she could not look upon 
 it. The carriage rolled past ; and now from the 
 window on the left-hand side Sir John Dalham's 
 villa was to be seen, embowered amongst the trees 
 which were already putting on their autumnal 
 tints. The old man pulled the checkstring, and 
 the carriage stopped. Winifred bent upoa him a 
 glance of anxious inquiry. 
 
 " It is a nice house, and pleasantly situated," 
 ■aid Mr. Barrington. "It will do very well for 
 UB, Winnie." 
 
 " My dear grandfather, I like not to hear such 
 language come from your lips ! Let us be chari- 
 table and magnanimous " 
 
 " Charitable and magnanimous towards the 
 Dalbams ?" literally shrieked forth the old man. 
 " Charitable to an adder ? — magnanimous to a 
 
 "Grandfather!" ejaculated Winifred, with a 
 sudden access of wildness : but in a moment she 
 checked herself— and whatsoever else she felt was 
 only expressed by a half stifled sob. 
 
 " All these things excite you, my poor dear 
 Winnie," said the old man. " Yesterday was a 
 trying day for you— and you have not yet re- 
 covered it. Moreover, you are getting rather 
 nervous, Winnie. But 1 should just like to know 
 now many acres belong to that villa ?— Thomas!" 
 
 " Yes, sir :" — and the footman was imme- 
 diately at the carriage-door. 
 
 •' Do you see any person — any labourer or poor 
 man, 1 mean — of whom we may ask a question or 
 two ?" 
 
 " No, sir. But ah !" added the footman, " there 
 16 a gentleman approaching!" 
 
 " Well, well," said Mr. Barrington, " there 
 
 would be no harm I'll just put a question to 
 
 him — quite in a civil way " 
 
 "Grandfather, you cannot think of it !" hastily 
 and earnestly whispered Winifred : for she dared 
 not speak out loud, as the footmau was still at the 
 earriage window. 
 
 "Nonsense, my dear child!— don't be foolish!" 
 said the old man : " there's no barm in asking for 
 
 information!- 1 should hope that I ki 
 as well as anybody." 
 
 " Here is the gentleman, sir," said the footman 
 at this moment. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said old Mt. Barring- 
 ton, thrusting his head out of the window, " but 
 would you oblige me with a little information, 
 if you happen to be acquainted with these parts.-'" 
 
 " I shall be most happy, sir," was the response 
 given by the gentleman who had that moment 
 come up to the spot where the equipage had 
 halted. 
 
 But that voice ! Winifred started— and it waa 
 with difficulty that she could keep back a shriek 
 which waa ready to peal forth from her lips ; for 
 she recognised the voice of Roderick Dalham ! 
 And now, the next moment, a sudden revulsion of 
 feeling took place within her; and she felt glad 
 that her grandsire and Roderick bad thus met — 
 that they were speaking civilly to each other — 
 neither entertaining the smallest suspicion who 
 the other was! For though many long years back 
 they had met, yet Rodorick was then a boy of 
 eight or ten ; and it was therefore the height of 
 improbability — indeed almost an impossibility — 
 that there should be any recognition now. Wini- 
 fred lay back in the corner of the carriage, unseen 
 by Roderick, who had stopped at a little distance 
 on being addressed by Mr. Barrington. 
 
 The colloquy progressed. 
 
 " I shall be most happy," Roderick Dalham had 
 said, with the bland courtesy that was natural to 
 him, " to give you any information that lies in my 
 power." 
 
 " Perhaps you live in this neighbourhood, sir ?" 
 asked the old man, with true senile garrulity. 
 
 " Not exactly," said Roderick. " I live for the 
 most part in London— but I am sometimes in this 
 neighbourhood " 
 
 " Perhaps you know Sir John Dalham, sir P'* 
 said the old man. " But it might be as well to 
 inform you that my name is Barrington " 
 
 "Barrington! indeed!" ejaculated Rjdeiick; 
 and at the same instant he caught a glimpse of a 
 white kerchief at the window ; so that he now 
 knew Winifred was inside the carriage. " I pre- 
 sume," he continued, in the same courteous tone 
 as before, " that I have the honour of speaking to 
 that same Mr. Barrington who is plaintiff in tho 
 celebrated Chancery suit, and whose release yester- 
 day from a prolonged captivity is mentioned in & 
 paragraph which I read in this morning's newa- 
 
 " Y*es, I am that Mr. Barrington," responded 
 the old man. " But perhaps you are acquainted 
 with Sir John Dalham ?" he repeated. 
 
 " I have some knowledge of that Baronet," re- 
 joined Roderick, with the completest self posses- 
 sion. " But I do not hesitate to add, from all I 
 have heard in reference to your ponding lawsuit, 
 that you, Mr. Barrington, will not merely gain lh» 
 day, but that you deserve to come off victorious." 
 
 " Ah ! such is your opinion, sir ? Do you hear 
 that, Winnie my dear ? Pray let me shake hands 
 
 with you, sir! It is very kind of you very 
 
 kind indeed !" and the old man almost whimpered 
 with joy. 
 
 " Most cordially shall I shake hands with you, 
 Mr. Barrington," answered Roderick : but no one 
 who heard him thus speak, except Winifred her-
 
 aqneb; oe, beauty asd pieasueb. 
 
 373 
 
 self, observed that there < 
 
 
 emor iQ hi3 
 
 And DOW how wildly palpitated Winifred's heart 
 as she became aware that her grandfather wa3 at 
 the moment shaking hands with Roderick Dalham! 
 — jes, grasping in friendliest pressure the hand of 
 him whom, as well as his father, he had sworn to 
 hate, loathe, and detest to the end of bis life ! 
 
 "I am delighted to form your acquaintance, 
 sir," said the old man, — " very much delighted. 
 
 You know my name — I don't know eh ? — 
 
 whether I heard you mention your's or not ?" 
 
 Roderick coolly took out his card-case, and said, 
 " AYhat information, Mr. Barrington, is it that 
 you require ?— for I sincerely hope I shall be en- 
 abled to afford it." 
 
 " How many acres belong to that villa, sir ?" 
 asked the old gentleman. 
 
 " I can tell you exactly," replied Eoderick. 
 " There are a dozen acres of garden-ground and 
 paddock attached to the dwelling." 
 
 " And the house itself is commodious — eh f" 
 continued old Barrington eagerly. 
 
 " Very commodious," responded Roderick, who 
 was still playing with his card-case as if about to 
 take forth a card and hand to the aged occupant of 
 the carriage. 
 
 " Very commodious — eh f Do you hear that, 
 VTinnie my dear ? This gentleman tells me that 
 it is very commodious. The fact is, my dear sir, 
 between you and me. Sir John Dalham's suit is 
 already as good as lost ; and when lost, he will 
 be ruined — so that it is tolerably certain the villa 
 yonder, as well as all the rest of the property will 
 come into my possession ; because what the judg. 
 ment of the Court does not give me as my right, 
 I shall buy up, sir— I shall buy up! For every. 
 thing that Sir John possesses, must inevitably 
 
 come to the hammer 1 mean all that the Court 
 
 will leave him." 
 
 " Grandfather '" said Winifred, softly yet firmly, 
 " you are speaking too plainly — too openly " 
 
 " 1 know what I am saying," ejaculated the old 
 man aloud ; " and I feel confident that in a very 
 short time we shall be seated within the walls of 
 yonder villa. And if so, sir," he continued, now 
 again addressing himself to Roderick, " nothing 
 will give me greater pleasure than to receive you 
 
 at the house and we will drink a bottle of wine 
 
 to our better acquaintance." 
 
 '' And to our friendship," added Roderick. '*Be- 
 lieve me, my dear sir, it would be one of the 
 happiest moments of my life to find myself seated 
 with you over a glass of wine in yonder villa." 
 
 " But there's no reason," said Mr. Barrington, 
 " why we should not see each other very soon 
 again. I am stopping for the present in Alders- 
 gate Street, Xo. — . 1 shall be very glad if you 
 will favour me with a call." 
 
 "I am often in that neighbourhood," replied 
 Roderick. " I shall be most happy " 
 
 "The sooner the better, "exclaimed the old man. 
 " What shall you be doing this evening ?" 
 
 Eoderick Dalham at the moment beheld the 
 white kerchief again waving at the window, but 
 in a manner that was significant only for himself: 
 and he comprehended the meaning of the sign. 
 
 " I shall be disengaged this evening ?" he said ; 
 " and it would really afford me much pleasure to 
 pay my respects." 
 
 " Come at eight o'clock," said Mr. Barrington : 
 " be upon no ceremony — you will have simply & 
 cup of coffee and a good glass of wine— but a very 
 cordial reception, I can assure you." 
 
 " At eight o'clock, my dear sir, I will be punc- 
 tual," answered Eoderick, who had just slided his 
 card-case back into his pocket, without taking any 
 card thence, as the reader may be very well as- 
 sured. " Punctual at eight." 
 
 Hands were again shaken : Roderick lifted his 
 hat in courteously respectful salutation to the old 
 gentleman; and he hastened on his way. Mr. Bar- 
 rington now ordered the equipage to drive home- 
 ward ; and as it rolled along the lane, he said to 
 Winifred, " A very nice gentleman, that ! — a very 
 nice man indeed ! But dear me ! did he give me- 
 his card ! Well, this is very strange ! He meant 
 to do so — he took out his card-case on purpose. I 
 saw him do it. Well, he must have forgotten. 
 But you see, my dear Winnie, how easy it is to 
 make a friend by a little gentlemanly cour- 
 tesy 
 
 "Ah! and so very much better," ejaculated 
 Winifred, "to make a friend than an enemy!" 
 
 " Why, of course, my dear— no one would travel 
 out of his way to make an enemy, nor go half-way 
 to meet one. But sometimes enmity is forced 
 upon us " 
 
 " And friendship is formed by accident," inter- 
 jected Winifred, — " as you ha»e formed this friend- 
 ship to day." 
 
 " Well, my dear girl, you are really talking 
 quite rationally and sensibly, and just as I like to 
 hear you," said the old man, patting her cheek. 
 " I fancied you would blame me for making hasty 
 acquaintances — I thought to myself that you 
 would be sure to find fault, and tell me that I 
 ought to be more cautious— more reserved— and 
 so forth ■" 
 
 " No, no, my dear grandfather !" exclaimed 
 Winifred, " you have acted perfectly right ! — - 
 believe me, you have acted perfectly right ! And 
 you like that gentleman very much— do you not ?" 
 
 " Of course ! — or else I should'nt have invited 
 him to see us. By the by, I quite forgot to in- 
 troduce you, Winnie, as my beloved grandchild." 
 
 " 1 shall see him this evening," said Winifred, 
 " But why — what made you— I mean how was it 
 that you took such a sudden and strange fancy to 
 that gentleman ?" 
 
 " Sudden perhaps— but not strange," ejaculated 
 Mr. Barrington. "Do you know, my dear Win- 
 nie, that I very often act upon impulses ? I 
 generally take a liking or a dislike to persons at 
 
 " And in this present case," said Winifred, ia 
 a voice that would persist in being tremulous 
 despite all her efforts to render it firm, — " you — 
 you " 
 
 " In this present case," rejoined her grandfather, 
 " I took a strong liking at once. But of course 
 I did, Winnie! Did you not hear how he spoke 
 about the lawsuit ?— and wasn't that handsome oa 
 the part of a perfect stranger.^ He is a manly 
 fellow too, Winnie ! He knows Sir John Dalham 
 —whereas on the other hand he never knew me 
 from Adam till to-day ; and yet, as you heard, h& 
 at once and most unhesitatingly pronounced his 
 judgment in my favour. Who could help liking
 
 371 
 
 A05Z8; OS, BEAUTY AHD PLBA8DBB. 
 
 "Ob, of course not! You muet indeed like 
 him !" »aid Winifred. " But apart from bis kind 
 feeling towardj joureelf " 
 
 " Well," interjected Mr. Barrington, " that 
 gentleman has everything in his favour. His 
 manners are excellent— he is decidedly good-look- 
 ing—remarkably fine piercing eyes— and a very 
 pleasing voice. Altogether, my dear Winnie, I 
 am very glad we have formed his acquaintance; 
 and you must get a nice little dessert— and we 
 will send across to the Albion for some of their 
 very best wine " 
 
 " Eest assured," exclaimed Winifred, her heart 
 palpitating with joy, " that everything shall be 
 done to give that gentleman a most welcome recep- 
 tion." 
 
 CHAPTEE LXXir. 
 
 THE IIITLE VELTEI BAO. 
 
 It was between seven and eight o'clock in the 
 evening— the grandfather and granddaughter sat 
 together in the handsome drawing-room at Mrs, 
 Slater's house. Winifred had insisted that her 
 aged relative should make himself comfortable, 
 and not stand upon any ceremony in the reception 
 of the expected g«est. She had therefore per- 
 suaded him to put on his slippers and his dress- 
 ing-gown ; and the old man had yielded to her 
 wishes. Wine and dessert were upon the table ; 
 and the cheerful sparkle in 'Mr Barriogton's eyes 
 showed that he had already assured himself that 
 the cellars of the famous Albion Hotel in the same 
 street had furnished good specimens of foreign 
 vintages. 
 
 Mr. Barrington was seated in his arm-chair: 
 Winifred had placed herself on an ottoman by his 
 side. She looked up affectionately into his coun- 
 tenance ; she assured herself at a glance that he 
 was in the best possible humour, as well as in the 
 kindliest mood; and she said within her own 
 bosom, " Now is the favourable moment for enter- 
 ing upon the revelation of the secret !" 
 
 "My dear grandfather," she presently began, 
 tikicg his hand and pressing it between both her 
 vn, '• jou will perhaps be suprised — but I am 
 very certain that you could not possibly be an- 
 noyed—to learn that the gentleman whom we 
 are expecting is not altogether a stranger to 
 me " 
 
 " I do not understand you, Winnie," interrupted 
 the old man "Tou did not speak to the gentle- 
 man today " 
 
 " If 0," said Winifred : " I had my reasons. 
 Pray be patient! You don't know, my dear 
 grandfather, how nicely everything will come out 
 to the long run " 
 
 '• But who w this gentleman, Winifred ?" asked 
 Mr. Barrington, somewhat seriously: "and why 
 should there have been any mystery in your ac- 
 quaintance with him ? 'Pon my honour, if it 
 were not for the way in which he himself spoke 
 about the lawsuit, 1 should almost be ioclined to 
 fancy from this mystery that you are making, 
 I that it was Koderick Dalham "himself— though on 
 ! second thoughts I should know that to be impos- 
 I eible ; fur Eoderick Dalham is a poor wretch, 
 
 worn out by debauchery— pale and emaciated <- 
 
 At least su I was told some time ago — and 1 do 
 believe it was Timperley that gave me the descrip- 
 tion ! But what about this gentleman, Winnie t 
 His name " 
 
 " Eepeat to me, my dear grandfather," said the 
 young lady, " what you told me as we were driving 
 home from St. John's Wood, — that you have con- 
 ceived a great liking towards this gentleman ? It 
 is so, dear grandfather — is it not ?"— and Wini- 
 fred looked up into the old man's countenance 
 with that winning cajolery which has naught of 
 sinister hypocrisy in it, but is replete with min- 
 gled affection and good intention. 
 
 "To be sure, my darling girl! I conceived* 
 great friendship for that gentleman!" 
 
 " And when you come to know more," resumed 
 Winifred, "you will experience other senti- 
 ments " 
 
 " Other sentiments P" aaid the old man inquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Yes— gratitude for instance," rejoined Wini- 
 fred ; " and gratitude, you know, my dear grand- 
 father, is a sacred duty " 
 
 " Of course ! where gratitude is due !" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Barrington. " But you astonish me, 
 Winnie ! How can there be any gratitude to- 
 wards one whom I never saw before in my life, 
 and who cannot possibly have had it in his power 
 to render me a service ?" 
 
 " Services may be rendered," said Winifred 
 softly, " without the necessity of the benefactor 
 being always seen. In fact, true philanthropy 
 very often conceals itself behind a curtain, until 
 by some accident revealed— as was the case in this 
 instance," added Winifred quickly; for she was 
 naturally desirous to skip as lightly and rapidly 
 as possible over the real circumstances attendant 
 upon her introduction to the individual of whom 
 she was speaking. 
 
 " AVhat on earth are you talking of, Wini- 
 fred ?" asked her grandsire. " You bewilder and 
 mystify me ! I don't think it can be the wine 1 
 have taken " 
 
 " No — you have only bad two glasses. Listen 
 —and my speech will gro» clearer. I tell you 
 that you are under the de^pest of obligations to 
 that gentleman! You would have starved, my 
 dear grandfather — or at least you would have 
 wanted the commonest necessaries " 
 
 "M'hat, Winifred?" ejaculated the old man: 
 " do we owe that gentleman money ?" 
 
 " No ! If we owed him money only, we could 
 pay it : but believe me, dear grandfather," ex- 
 claimed Winifred, with enthusiasm, " we owe that 
 gentleman a debt of gratitude which is unpay. 
 able !" 
 
 " Ah !" — and the old man looked strangely 
 upon Winifred ; for the suspicions which the 
 malignity of Eobus had first engendered in his 
 mind were now reviving there. " Winnie— dearest 
 girl" — and now he began to whimper — "you 
 would not have me believe— you would not give 
 me to understand — that— in a moment of despe- 
 ration—when perhaps you feared lest your poor 
 old grandfather should be wanting bread — you 
 
 do not mean, dear Winnie But if you did, you 
 
 know 1 should forgive you— yes, I should forgive 
 you " 
 
 "Oh, speak not thus!" exclaimed the yoang
 
 AGNES; OR, BEA.CIT ASD PLEASUSB. 
 
 37S 
 
 lady, bursting into tear?, and throniog ber arms 
 ftboDt the old man's neck : " I have not disgraced 
 you! — believe me that I have not disgraced jou! 
 That gentleman of whom we are speaking is the 
 very soul of honour!" 
 
 ".Ah, well, well, Winnie-now I breathe freely 
 again!' said the old man. "Give me my glass, 
 dear child. There ! — that's right! >fow put it 
 down again. Ha! the wine's good! Come and 
 tell me all the rest that you have to say. The 
 gentleman is the very soul of honour ? Well, 
 I'm glad of that; for after being twenty-sii 
 years in prison, and having a lawsuit that has 
 lasted thirty-one, a person is not very likely to en- 
 tertain an over good opinion of the world. How- 
 ever, this gentleman you say But what's hii 
 
 name, Winnie ?" 
 
 " His name ? Oh, I will tell you in a mo- 
 ment !" and she spoke quickly. " Now, my dear 
 grandfather, there was a cheat which I put upon 
 you— it was a very innocent one — it was at the 
 time when you thought I was earning so much by 
 my needle — whereas, though I worked inces- 
 saolly, I could only earn as many pence as you 
 fancied I was obtaining shillings." 
 
 " Well, AVinifred — well r" — and again were 
 there anxiety and uneasiness upon the old man's 
 
 "It was this gentleman who supplied n weekly 
 
 sum which gave you comforts— which saved you, 
 
 dear grandfather, from many a cruel strait and 
 
 ignoble shift ! In a word, I know not what really 
 
 would have become of us without the succour of 
 
 that generous man !" 
 
 j "Indeed! is it so, Winnie?" cried Barrington. 
 
 I "And Ob, my darling girl ! you can look me thus 
 
 in the face and declare that you have accepted all 
 
 these bounties for myself and for you, without — 
 
 j without any sacrifice of— of — your own good prin- 
 
 I ciples " 
 
 ' " Grandfather," interrupted Winifred, solemnly, 
 I " it was the bread of the noblest generosity which 
 ! you have eaten — and not the bread of your grand- 
 child'a shame. No! — as I have a soul to be 
 saved, I Lave experienced only the most chival- 
 [ rous magnanimity on the part of that gentle- 
 
 I man " 
 
 I " Corns to my arras, Winifred !" cried the old 
 I man, agaiu whimpering and snivelling with min- 
 ! e's'i jtiy. »od gratitude, and nervousness: "let 
 ' me embrace you ! You know not how immense 
 j is the relief my soul now feels, and how light is 
 i my heart! But proceed, Winnie I Ah, you have 
 
 j sliU forgotten to tell me the name " 
 
 "Wait till I reveal to you something more," 
 
 interrupted the granddaughter. "But first tell 
 
 I me what think you of any person who might save 
 
 I " Save your life, Winifred ? This is a strange 
 
 \ question ! But of course I should love such a 
 
 person as the dearest of friends." 
 
 I "Ah! — and suppose that it was not by mere 
 
 accident and all in a moment that the great boon 
 
 j was conferred,- for instance, it was not as if I fell 
 
 I into a river and the first passer-by rushed to my 
 
 i assistance,- yet you \vouId love the person who 
 
 I might do Ibis, though almost every one would 
 
 ; perform such an act if an opportunity presented 
 
 , iiBcK ? But suppose that I was in some sore 
 
 ' trouble— that 1 and death were looking each other 
 
 I in the tace— and that the last glimmerings of hope 
 
 were yielding to the darkness of despair,— suppoaa 
 I say that in such a case, some person resolved to 
 save me — that he devoted himself to his task- 
 that he boldly grappled with sore obstacles and 
 in silent perseverance undermined others, — sup- 
 pose that he pursued his object with a ^eal, a 
 tenacity of purpose, and a calm dauntlessoess, 
 which being blended with a rare intelligence, led 
 on to the achievement of success? Now, what 
 would you say in reference to such conduct as 
 this ? and what would you think of such a per- 
 
 " You are almost bewildering me again, Win- 
 nie," said the old man ; " but still I think I com- 
 prehend your meaning; and I therefore say that 
 the conduct would be most magnanimous and the 
 person himself most admirable." 
 
 "True, dear grandfather! you could not ex- 
 press yourself in more appropriate terms ! Well, 
 then, such was the conduct of the gentleman to 
 whom we are alluding : and now you will admit 
 that as a man he is most adrairable ?" 
 
 "No question of it! "But still, Winifred," said 
 the grandfather, "I cannot see how all this could 
 
 relate to you unless it were in the case ■ 
 
 you know what I mean — —we passed the spot to- 
 day " 
 
 " It was in that very case," replied Winifred. 
 " He of whom I speak was firmly convinced of 
 my innocence, at a time when, alas! so few were 
 convinced of it ! He was resolved to save me — 
 he saw but one course to be adopted— he got him- 
 self introduced upon the jury — it was he who 
 turned the scales entirely in my favour — it is to 
 him that I owe my life!" 
 
 Old Barrington listened as if it were to some 
 romance of deep awe inspiring interest: but at 
 length he exclaimed, " Ob, Winifred, if this is all 
 a reality it is not a man of whom you are speak- 
 ing, but it is a being of a preterhuman order! 
 Tell me, darling Winnie— is this all so ?" 
 
 " I call heaven to witness," she emphatically 
 said, " that I am telling the truth, and naught 
 but the truth ! Yes, grandfather- if it were not 
 for that man your poor Winnie would have been 
 separated from you for ever— she would have suf- 
 fered an ignominious death — she would now be 
 lying in the cold grave ! And you, dear grand- 
 father " 
 
 " My heart would be broken," he faltered forth, 
 in a voice that was tremulous with sobs. " Dear, 
 dear Winnie ! what strange things you have been 
 telling ! Why did you never let me know all this 
 before ?" 
 
 " Ob, my dear grandfather," she responded, 
 " so long as you had your own affairs to trouble 
 and harrass you, it was not likely that I should 
 perplex or bewilder you with matters pertaining 
 chiefly unto myself." 
 
 " Would that the gentleman would come," cried 
 the old man, "that I might embrace him; for 
 I now look upon him as a benefactor and a saviour. 
 But Ah ! when I bethink me, why did you not 
 speak to him to-day ?" 
 
 " I wished you to form his acquaintance first, 
 so that you mi^ht judge of him for yourself. In- 
 deed, it was a very fortunate accident which threw 
 us in his way ; for I had previously made up my 
 mind to reveal alt these secrets to you this eveu- 
 ing. But it is better that you should have first 
 seen him, I repeat; fur you learnt to like him
 
 37G AG>E3; OK, BKACIT AST) PLEiSCEE. 
 
 even before tou knew that he bad been vour bene- then from the bosom of her dress she drew forth 
 factor. You would not have been so well pleased the little velvet bag to which we have before d. 
 if I had commenced this evening by sajing to luded. Gliding to her workbox, she produced a 
 you, 'Grandfather, you are tying under illimitable pair of scissors, with which she hastily unripped 
 obligations to one whom you do not know, whom the silken stitches with which the bag was sewed, 
 you have never seen, and perhaps who may prove First of all she drew forth a wedding-ring, which 
 personally repulsive to you when ye meet.' " she placed upon her linger, looking up with a 
 
 " Yes— it is better, "Winnie !" said the old man ; smile at her grandsire, and saying, " I shall hence- 
 " for now 1 know who my benefactor is— at least forth wear this altogether — and my dear husband, 
 I know that I like him j and he is just the sort when he comes presently, will be so delighted to 
 of person from whom one would rather receive recognise it on my band !" 
 
 favours and benefits. It is not far off from " Ah, I am glad to see that emblem !" said the 
 
 eight : I hope he will come." , old man. " >'ot that 1 mistrusted you, dear 
 
 "Kest assured that he will be punctual," re- Winnie, you know— only in these matters it is al- 
 
 plied Winifred. " Yes— for he is anxious to re- ' ways so much better to have the proofs before 
 
 ceive your assent, my dear grandfather " one " 
 
 "Ah! ha!" said the old man, with a sly smile "Ah! but I have other proofs!" ejaculated 
 and an arch look. "I begin to see my way a little Winifred. "Sirs. Slater and Misi Evelyn were 
 more clearly! There's love in the question ! Well, present at the ceremony— so was Mr. Wardour — 
 my darling "Winnie, since it is evident that this and so was that very Mr. Cartwright who came 
 gentleman entertains the most honourable inten- ! to effect your release yesterday. So you see, my 
 tions— and considering that all his conduct has dear grandfather, there were plenty of witnesses; 
 furnished you with so many proofs of disinterested and moreover the maid-servant of the bouse waa 
 devotion— I shall be only too glad to see you be- likewise in my confidence — but the secret bas 
 
 come his wife." been well kept all the same " 
 
 " A thousand thanks, dear grandfather !" ejacu- " Ah, indeed it has, Winnie !" said the old man. 
 lated "Winifred, throwing her arms about his neck : " But it shall very soon be made known; for that 
 " a thousand, thousand thanks ! But you must malignant old scoundrel Eobus shan't have the 
 
 say a little more — and you must go a little further ! opportunity ^^by, what did he say to me? 
 
 For suppose — suppose— I scarcely know how to Something to the effect that in two or three 
 make the revelation — but suppose, I say, that months more you would — you know what 1 mean, 
 
 without waiting for your assent we had forgive Winnie Ah ! but now I can look forward with 
 
 me, dear grandfather !— but it is as his wife that delight and juy to the prospect of embracing a 
 you now embrace me!" great-gran'ichild !" 
 
 " His wife, Winnie ?" exclaimed the old man, "Winifred blushed; and with downcast looks ahe 
 in the loud voice of amazement ; and then in said, " It is close upon seven months, dearest 
 an exulting tone he added, " And why not ? As grandfather, since I became a wife. On the 
 well already married as intending to be! white of twenty-first of February I gave my final consent: 
 course my assent holds good in one case as well as three days afterwards — that is to say, on the 
 in another ! Ah — but you are sure, dear "Win- twenty-fourth — the ceremony took place by ape- 
 
 nie " \ cial license." 
 
 " No more doubts, grandfather ! no more sus- " Ah ! and this is the eighteenth of September," 
 picions !" she interrupted him ; " for I know that said old Barrington. " Yes, yes — you have in- 
 
 there have been moments when " . deed been a wife within a few days of sereo 
 
 " Ah, that rascal Eohus !" ejaculated old Bar- months !" 
 rington. " And here he is, this very day, eating ' " And here is the certificate," continued "Wini- 
 roast beef and plum-pudding and swilling strong ! fred, taking the document from the little velvet 
 ale at my cost." [ bag. " See ! it bears the date of the twenty- 
 
 " "Well, forgive him, dear grandfather," said , fourth of February." 
 Winnie ; and then she added with a blush, and in ! " But the name— the name, my dear ?" eaid 
 a tremulous voice, "for appearances were cer- I Mr. Barrington. ""Why do you hold the 
 
 tainly against me ! But while you were in that , paper " 
 
 horrible place, with your mind so narrowed to a ] "Ah, my dear grandfather!" exclaimed "Wini- 
 particular circle of ideas — and also with so many ' fred, thrusting the certificate into her bosom ; " £ 
 
 prejudices " j will not declare my husband's name until ho enters 
 
 " Prejudices, "Wianie ?" said the old man in- this room according to your own special invita- 
 quiringiy. tioo." 
 
 " No matter," she haatily went on to say : " This is foolish, my dear girl," said her grand- 
 
 " suffice it for me to add that I could not— no ! I father. " Come, tell me " 
 
 ! could not bring myself to speak on the subject, ' "No— not yet!" interrupted "Winifred, becoming 
 nor to make the revelation so long as you were in intensely nervous as the moment of crisis ap- 
 that shocking place. But now, dear grandfather, preached. " Have a little patience !— it wanta 
 that you can see things in a different light, and but five minutes to eight !— he declared to yeu that 
 that your ideas are changing with your posi- j he would be punctual I" 
 
 tion " I " But why this mystery, "Winifred ?" asked the 
 
 " Well, Winnie — but this marriage of your'a ?" i old man. " I don't like it. Surely you hava 
 
 interrupted the old man: "when did it take i wedded no one of whose name you need bo 
 
 place f" ashamed ?" 
 
 ; Winifred looked up with a species of playful ' " It is an ancient and honourable name," re- 
 
 { confidence into her grtndsire'i countenance ; and ', sponded Winifred ; " and s title ia connected with
 
 (L .\Iy husband," she added somawhat hesita- 
 tiogljr, " will in due course become a Baronet !" 
 
 '■ A Baronet ? Well, that is goud ! But deuce 
 take it, Winnie ! you are making me uncommonly 
 
 nervous 1 I don't know how it is do give me 
 
 A glass of wine ! — there's so much mystery ! A 
 Baronet ? Why, that villain Sir John Dal- 
 ham " 
 
 " There is the wine, grandfather ! Drink it ! it 
 will do you good! There! the time-piece is striking 
 eight! — Ab, and there is a double-knock at the 
 front door ! Now my husband is coming ! Re- 
 member, dear grandfather, he gave ua the means 
 of buying bread! — he made your prison existence 
 tolerable I — he saved my life ! — he wooed me 
 honourably ! — honourably too he has wedded me ! 
 — a kind, a loving, and an affectionate husband is 
 he to me! — and Oh, forget not that he is the 
 iather of the babe which I bear in my bosom 1" | 
 No. 48.— Aqnbs. 
 
 Though all this was spoken with an exceeding 
 rapidity, yet there was an irresistible pathos per- 
 vadiog that entire speech ; and the concluding^ 
 words were most interestingly powerful in their 
 appeal. 
 
 Footsteps were bea'd ascending the staircase, as 
 old Barriogtoa exclaimed, "Who is youi* husband, 
 Wmnie ? Name him ! I see that there is some- 
 thing -" 
 
 "Remember, grandfather," she interjected," that 
 you have pronounced his conduct migaanimous 
 and himself admirable! Let your actions justif/ 
 your words!" 
 
 " Winifred, there is something in your manaet 
 that frightens me ! His name ." 
 
 At this instant the door opened and the visitor 
 made his appearance. Winifred dew towards 
 him and flung her arms abuut bis neck ; then 
 leading him towards her grandsire, she said ia a
 
 Jf73 
 
 A0SE3; OK, BBACTT ASD FLEASDBB. 
 
 loleiDD tone, " It is God only who has the right to 
 Tisit the 8109 of the fathers upon the children; 
 for it were horrible and infamous for man to do 
 to ! Your blessing, then, dearest, dearest grand- 
 eire, on the bead of my husband— Eoderick Dal. 
 ham !" 
 
 A wild cry, or rather yell of mingled rage and 
 eiecration burst from the lips of old Barrington, 
 at the same time that he clenched his fists and 
 dealt himself blows the severity of which only too 
 well indicated the violence of bis emotions. Wini- 
 fred clung in terror to her husband; while Dal- 
 ham murmured, "I did not deserve this from 
 him !" 
 
 All of a sudden Mr. Barrington fell down upon 
 the carpet, and the blood which came forth from 
 his mouth, indicated that he had broken some 
 internal vessel in the midst of that fierce paroxysm 
 of excitement to which he bad given way. 
 
 THE COTIAOE. 
 
 It was the day following that of which we hare 
 just been writing ; and in tbe forenoon we shall 
 find the beautiful Agnes roaming in the neigh- 
 bourhood of her own habitation. Lovely as ever 
 did she look ; while her costume, at once elegant 
 j and simple, indicated the pure gentility of her 
 tastes. Agnes was fond of taking plenty of exer- 
 cise — which indeed seems to be a habit invariably 
 associated with well regulated minds. She rose early 
 in the morning: the reader has already seen that 
 when indoors she spent her'time industriously with 
 her needle, or usefully in the perusal of good 
 books. Her's was just tbe disposition that would 
 crave three or four hours of wholesome exercise 
 daily ; and this she was accustomed to take. Tbe 
 result was that there was always a healthful 
 baoyancy of the spirits— a certain lightness at 
 the heart— and a clearness of the intellect which 
 constituted no mean elements of her happiness: 
 while upon her cheeks there was the soft blush of 
 the rose which the influence of the fresh air would 
 often enhance into tbe richer glow of the carna- 
 tion. And then, merely to look at the pure fine- 
 grained skin of Agnes— tbe exquisite clearness of 
 I her complexion, without spot or blemish,— this also 
 I vrould add to the impression of tbe wholesome 
 I vigorous health enjoyed by one who loved to be in 
 I tbe open air, and to contemplate the beauties of 
 nature in the varied seasons,— either when Spring 
 scatters flowers from her brow upon the earth — or 
 r when Summer rejoices in the richness of the 
 golden harvest— or when Autumn points invitingly 
 [ to the luscious fruitage with which tbe trees are 
 gemmed during the period of her sway— or when 
 "Winter weaves his fantastic fretwork of frost upon 
 I the hedges, or crystallizes his tears upon the ebon 
 j framawork of the windows. Tes— in all seasons 
 i did Agnes behold something to admire. Her's 
 j was a disposition, which, fraught with angelic con- 
 j tentment, recognised all the good of the world 
 j wherever it was to be discerned, and carried 
 within her bosom a grateful heart that never was 
 ' unmindful of tbe great Artificer of all things, 
 j On this particular forenoon of which we are 
 
 writing, Agnes had come forth earlier than usual ; 
 and she was wandering a little further than was 
 her wont. But there was a brisk freshness in the 
 air which seemed to give elasticity to her steps 
 as well as a wholesome lightness to her heart ; and 
 it was thus that her ramble was prolonged. She 
 was now in the open country; and at a little dis- 
 tance she beheld a rude, wretched, tumbte-dowa 
 old cottage, of so miserable an appearance that 
 she was suddenly shocked at the idea that any 
 human beings could possibly live in so vile a 
 hovel. Yet that it was indeed so tenanted, her 
 eyes received fullest proof. For in front of the 
 cottage a girl, whose ago appeared to be sixteen 
 or seventeen, was playing gaily with a little boy — 
 evidently her brother by the likeness; while a dog 
 was gambolling around them both. At first Agnes 
 was on tbe point of turning away, instead of 
 drawing near enough to run the risk of her pre- 
 sence being regarded in the light of an intrusion : 
 but a second glance at tbe little group made her 
 alter her intention. She approached some few 
 paces nigher : then she stopped short— and she 
 sighed profoundly as she continued to regard that 
 sister and her little brother. They were almost 
 naked ; and such garments as they had on, were 
 masses of rags — so that it was a wonder thej 
 clung in festooning tatters to those forms at all. 
 
 The girl was good-looking enough to be almost 
 called beautiful. She had long coal-black hair, 
 large dark eyes, and a brunette complexion: but 
 there was nothing of the gipsy in her. Her face 
 seemed rather of French configuration than of 
 English, — the profile having the note going 
 slightly inward and defining what is called re- 
 trousse in France, but for which there is no 
 adequate synonym in the English language. The 
 expression of that countenance was a blending of 
 vivaciousness and ingenuousness, shrewdness com- 
 mingled with artlessness. The gin's mouth was 
 well formed; and she had a set of teeth which 
 though the least thing large, were nevertheless 
 pure and beautiful as polished ivory. Her armi 
 and legs were naked : they were somewhat robust, 
 but modelled to an exact justness of proportions. 
 Even though so miserably attired, yet there was 
 nothing coarse nor absolutely vulgar about this 
 girl,— nothing low or common ; on the contrary, 
 there was a something of natural gentility about 
 her, which must irresistibly have produced upon 
 any mind the impression that if she were only 
 well clad and provided with the proper requisites 
 of the toilet, she would prove a being calculated 
 to attract and interest the observer. 
 
 Agnes now drew nearer to the group ; and the 
 little boy on beholding a stranger thus approach- 
 ing, desisted from his occupation in playing with 
 tbe dog. A vivid blush all in a moment appeared 
 upon the countenance of the dork-haired damsel, 
 as if she felt ashamed at being thus surprised in 
 the negligence or poverty of her toilet. She 
 turned hastily towards the cottage, as if to fly 
 from the view of the young lady who was drawing 
 near, — when a little girl, two or three years 
 younger than the boy, opened the door of the 
 hovel and came running out with extended arms 
 towards its sister — for in this light did that young 
 female stand towards the two children. Shb 
 snatched up the little girl— imprinted a hasty kiss 
 upon its cheek— and plunging into the cottage.
 
 A0KK3; OK, 
 
 PLEASOBE. 
 
 »79 
 
 was the next moment lost to the view of Agnes. 
 The boy had followed close upon her heels — the 
 dog likewise had entered the dilapidated home- 
 stead—and the door was closed. 
 
 It almost seemed as if the presence of Agnes bad 
 frightened the girl and the two young children : — 
 Bt all events their disappearance was effected in 
 so sudden and abrupt a manner as to afford our 
 amiable heroine but little encouragement to pur- 
 sue the intention which a minute before she had 
 formed — namely, to inquire into the condition and 
 circumstances of the inhabitants of the cottage 
 with a view to succour and relieve them according 
 to the best of her ability. But finding that .she 
 was thus avoided, she was on the point of turning 
 away and retreating from the spot — when the 
 thought struck her, "Perhaps they have seen 
 better days? perhaps it is their poverty which 
 makes them ashamed ? At all events I will not 
 be thus easily deterred from the intention which 
 in the first instance I had formed !" 
 
 Agnes now advanced to the door of the cot- 
 tage. This door was cat in halves— so that the 
 upper part might be opened in fine weather, while 
 the lower part being closed, prevented children 
 from running out and in. When Agnes knocked 
 at the door with the handle of her parasol, the 
 upper half was opened, but slowly and evidently 
 with hesitation ; and the piqxtant countenance of 
 the dark-haired girl was again revealed. She said 
 nothing: but she gazed with mingled timidity and 
 curiosity upon the countenance of Agnes; — and 
 now that our heroine beheld her close, she was 
 even more than at first prepossessed in her favour 
 —white a conviction was strengthened in her mind 
 that the girl belonged to a family which had evi. 
 dently seen better days. 
 
 " Will you sufler me to walk in and rest my- 
 self?" inquired Agnes. " I have taken somewhat 
 k long ramble- " 
 
 " You are welcome to enter, Miss," responded 
 the girl ; " but you will find the accommodation 
 wretchedly bad ; and in truth I am ashamed " 
 
 Here she suddenly stopped short; and the tears 
 started forth from her eyes. 
 
 " Don't cry, sister Corrie," said the boy, now 
 approaching the girl with a look of deep concern 
 upon his countenance ; and the tears were also 
 beginning to moisten his own cheelcs. 
 
 " 1 would not for the world intrude upon you 
 80 as to put you to any inconvenience," said 
 Agnes, much touched by this scene: "1 would 
 not cause you any pain nor humiliate you; and 
 therefore permit me at once to declare that my 
 motive is a friendly one — and that if it lie in my 
 power to render you a service " 
 
 " Walk in. Miss," said the girl, throning open 
 the lower half of the door ; while her countenance 
 was animated with an expression of gratitude 
 shining above the blush which a sense of shame 
 still kept hanging upon her cheeks. 
 
 The interior of the but in no way belied the 
 idea that mi;;ht have been formed of it by a view 
 of the exterior : it was in every sense of the most 
 wretched, miserable, and poverty-stricken descrip- 
 tion. But here— before we continue the thread of 
 our narrative— we should observe that although 
 the girl spoke English with facility, yet that it was 
 with a foreign accent ; while a similar peculiarity 
 was perceptible in the speech of the boy. Agnes, 
 
 was therefore now convinced that they were 
 foreigners. She saw only those three in the cot- 
 tage ; and she wondered whether these poor chil- 
 dren were orphans dwelling alone in that miserable 
 hovel — or whether they had parents who might ba 
 absent at the lime. Sealing herself upon a dilapi- 
 dated chair, Agnes patted the cheeks of the boy 
 and little girl, — saying to the young female, " I 
 need scarcely ask if these are your brother and 
 sister?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied. "Poor little creatures I we 
 have no mother— and I do my best to be a mother 
 to them !" 
 
 The girl's bosom was swelling visibly with emo. 
 tion as she thus spoke; and Agnes was for upwards 
 of a minute so much aiTected that she could not 
 give utterance to another word. At length she 
 said — though hesitating to put the question, ftr 
 fear lest it might touch upon another painful 
 chord, — " And have you no father ?" 
 
 " Yes !" ejaculated the girl ; " and one of the 
 kindest and best of fathers ! But, alas! what can 
 he do ? He can obtain so little employment, and 
 you see, Miss, that it suffices not " 
 
 The girl stopped short— glanced rapidly over 
 herself and the two children— and then flung bet 
 looks with equal rapidity around the room, as much 
 as to imply that her father's labour, whatsoever it 
 were, would not produce sufficient to supply the 
 bare necessaries of life. 
 
 " You are not English ?" said Agnes, in a soft 
 voice of kindness. 
 
 " No, Miss," answered the girl : " ire are 
 Italian." 
 
 " And by what name was it that your little 
 brother just now called you ?" inquired Agnes. 
 
 " Corinna is my name," she rejoined : " but the 
 children, and indeed my dear father likewise, call 
 me Corrie for brevity's sake." 
 
 " And might I ask," said Agnes, " what trade 
 or avocation your father follows !" 
 
 "He was a gentleman, Miss— a notary, or a 
 lawyer, in his own native land," replied Corinna. 
 "He once had a large business, employed a great 
 number of clerks, and was bringing up his family 
 with respectability — nay, more, with gentility. 
 But one of those political hurricanes which so 
 often sweep over poor devoted Italy, annihilated 
 tho prosperity of my father all in a moment- 
 drove him into exile— and prepared the way lor 
 all this poverty which we are now enduring." 
 
 " Perhaps your father took a part in political 
 matters ?" said Agnes. 
 
 "Alas, yes!" responded Corinna ; "my father 
 was always a great patriot— and he had more than 
 once sacrificed his own private interests to what 
 he deemed the public welfare of his country. But 
 this last blow was fatal !" 
 
 " And how happened it ?" inquired Agnes, with 
 a look and tone of the deepest sympathy and com- 
 
 " Ob, I will tell you. Miss !" exclaimed Corinna, 
 with the most natural ingenuousness ; for she was 
 now getting rapidly at her ease in tho presence of 
 the amiable Agnes — while both the little boy and 
 girl were getting rid of their shyness and were 
 already looking upon our heroine as if she was 
 some friend who had a right to be there. "X 
 must tell you. Miss," proceeded Corinna, "that wo 
 are Ifeapolitans by birth ; and we used to live ii
 
 380 
 
 A0HE8; OK, BEAOTT AND PLEA8UKB. 
 
 Naples Itself. Hy fathex became involved in a 
 pohtical conspiracy which was beaded by a great 
 nobleman — a rich, liberal, and well-meanlDg man 
 — the Count of Camerino." 
 
 "Ah 1" ejaculated Agnes : " the Count of Came- 
 
 " Yes, Miss," responded Corinna. " I see that 
 jou have heard of him ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Agnes. " I have a friend who is 
 attached to the Embassy at the Neapolitan Court; 
 and he became acquainted nith the Count of Came- 
 rino — it was about last Christmas " 
 
 " Ah ! at the time when the Count was arrested 
 in Naples — when bis unfortunate wife drowned 
 herself— and his son perished upon the scaffold ! — 
 Yes— my father told mo all these dreadful events," 
 continued Corinna ; " for you must know that 
 my father is a devoted partisan of his lordship's. 
 Ah, Miss I you do not happen to know what has 
 become of him ?" 
 
 "No: I am unable to give you any information 
 on that head," replied Agnes. " It was at the be- 
 ginning of the present year — in the early part of 
 January — that his son Viscount Silvio was exe- 
 cuted ; and immediately afterwards the Count of 
 Camerino left Naples. My friend the attach* at 
 the Embassy has not since heard of him." 
 
 " Ah ! it we only knew where the Count might 
 be communicated with," observed Corinna, with a 
 sigh, "we should not be left in this state of 
 poverty ! It is now nearly two years since my 
 father fled from Naples : it was in the month of 
 January, 1848— at the time of the memorable 
 explosion of what has always been called the 
 Camerino conspiracy " 
 
 " That game conspiracy the discovery of which 
 caused the Count himself to flee from Naples P" 
 interjected Agnes. " Yes — Mr. De Vere, the 
 friend to whom I have alluded, has frequently 
 mentioned these circumstances in his letters. And 
 when your father fled from Naples, he came to 
 England, I presume p" 
 
 "Yea— we came to England," answered Corinna; 
 " for my mother was of English extraction,— 
 although she had lived so many years in Italy as 
 to bo almost the same as a native. Thus when 
 the explosion of the conspiracy compelled my 
 father to take to flight, he resolved upon coming 
 to England ; for my mother entertained the hope 
 cf finding some of her kindred still living " 
 
 " Ah ! then your mother was alive at that time?" 
 asked Agnes. 
 
 " Yes, Miss : she left Naples with us— but alas 1 
 scarcely had we set foot upon the English soil, 
 when she was seized with a severe illness, which in 
 a few weeks carried her to the grave. Oh ! our 
 advent to this country of your's was in every sense 
 inauspicious indeed !" — and again did the tears 
 trickle down Corinna's cheeks. 
 
 " And was your mother unsuccessful," asked 
 Agnes after a pause, and speaking in a low gentle 
 voice, " in discovering the relatives whom she ex- 
 pected to find still alive in this country !" 
 
 " The inquiries that were instituted immediately 
 after our arrival in London," responded Corinna, 
 " were all fruitless; and I believe- alas! I fear in- 
 deed, that disappointment on this score, added to 
 the presentiment that poverty would overtake the 
 family, aggravated my poor mother's illness, and 
 thus superadded the malady of the mind to that of 
 
 the body. Oh ! indeed. Miss, we hare been very- 
 very unfortunate : but still amidst all our poverty 
 we might yet be resigned to our lot, if we were 
 not suffering under this uncertainty in referenoa 
 
 to my dear brother " 
 
 "Your brother?" exclaimed Agnes, glancing at 
 the little boy, and wondering what could pos- 
 sibly be the meaning of Corinna's words. 
 
 " Oh ! I do not mean this brother," exclaimed 
 the Neapolitan girl. 
 
 " It is brother Giulio that Corrie is talking of," 
 said the boy. 
 
 " You seem to think you had previously men- 
 tioned him to me," said Agnes ; " but such is not 
 the case." 
 
 " Ah I I thought I had mentioned Giulio'a 
 name," said Corinna, " when I was speaking of 
 our flight from Naples; but I am always so dis- 
 turbed the instant I approach this topic, that my 
 
 mind appears to grow bewildered " 
 
 " My poor girl," said Agnes, " I myself should 
 be much afflicted if 1 thought that you fancied all 
 these questions on my part were being put through 
 mere idle curiosity. No, Corinna!— but if you 
 permit me I will be your friend I If your father 
 will consent to accept such assistance as I may be 
 
 enabled to aSbrd " 
 
 " Oh, Miss !" exclaimed the Italian girl, with 
 tears again sparkling in her eyes, " bow kind, bow 
 generous is all this on your part ! Ob, my father 
 would bless you ! — yes, my poor afllicted parent 
 would invoke heaven's choicest benedictions upon 
 your head, if you would only furnish him with the 
 
 means of undertaking a journey to Florence ■" 
 
 " Cheerfully will I do so," answered Agnes. 
 But I should think that from all you have just 
 been telling me it would be most dangerous for 
 your father to set foot in Italy ?" 
 
 " Danger only exists with regard to him in the 
 Neapolitan dominions," rejoined Corinna ; " be 
 may visit the Tuscan States in perfect security 
 :anlidence. And, Oh ! if he could only once 
 
 get to Florence " 
 
 ' Has be friends or relatives there f" asked 
 Agnes. 
 
 My brother Giulio," responded Corinna : " for 
 Oh, it is impossible that these misgivings so gloomy 
 and ominous which sometimes come over my father, 
 and which are so infectious not merely with re* 
 gard to myself, but likewise in respect to these 
 dear children, — Ob! it's impossible, I say, that 
 these misgivings can be well-founded " 
 
 'What is it that you apprehend?" inquired 
 Agnes. 
 
 Alas, that my brother Giulio may be no more !" 
 rejoined Corinna. " I must inform you. Miss, that 
 at the time when the Camerino conspiracy ex- 
 ploded in Naples in the month ot January, 1848— 
 that is about one-and-twenty months ago, — my 
 brother Giulio, then upwards of eighteen years of 
 age, was at the University of Padua, where he was 
 studying for the bar. The storm which swept my 
 father and ourselves from Naples, burst with the 
 suddenness of a hurricane ; and there was no time 
 mmunicate with Giulio. It was not until we 
 touched at Marseilles on our way to England, that 
 ere enabled to pen a single line to acquaint 
 him with our flight and our safety. But alas! 
 the same blow which ruined my father's fortunes, 
 dealt destruction to the hopei of Giulio's own
 
 «D PLEASOEE. 
 
 381 
 
 career. He left the UDiversity, at which my father 
 was no longer able to maintaia him : he would not 
 join us in England — he was afraid of becoming a 
 burden upon whatsoever resources might remain 
 at our command : he vowed that he would earn 
 his own bread— and that it need were, he would 
 even supply the wants of those who were dear to 
 him. He became a valet in the family of a Flo- 
 rentine nobleman ; and from that family he shortly 
 after passed into the service of a lady of rank, also 
 residing in Florence— the Marchioness di Miraoo. 
 For some months poor Giulio regularly transmitted 
 a sum of money : but all of a sudden remittances 
 and letters alike ceased. This was in the month 
 of February last. Yes— it is now upwards of seven 
 months since tte received any tidings from Giulio ! 
 My father has written to the Marchioness di Mi- 
 rano— but has received no answer. Hence he con- 
 cludes that her ladyship is utterly ignorant of what 
 has become of Giulio, and will not condescend, or 
 else will not take the trouble, to pen a few lines to 
 this effect. And now, Miss, you can understand 
 why we entertain such misgivings in reference to 
 poor Giulio, and why my father would look upon 
 you as an angel sent from heaven if you would only 
 assist him with the means to visit Florence and 
 inquire what has become of his first-born." 
 
 " Oh, this I will most cheerfully do!" exclaimed 
 Agnes. " But has not your father written to any 
 one else in Florence besides this Marchioness of 
 whom you speak ?" 
 
 " He has written to the Minister of Police," re- 
 plied Corinna; "but his letter has experienced no 
 better fate than the half-dozen which he has so 
 entreatingly penned to the Marchioness. The 
 Tuscan Minister will not condescend to answer a 
 Neapolitan fugitive, whose name has been circu- 
 lated throughout Italy in the same list with all the 
 other leaders of the Camerino conspiracy." 
 
 " And what — if the question be not an indiscreet 
 one," said Agnes,—" what is your father's name ?" 
 
 " Paoli," responded Corinna. " But we were 
 speaking of my brother Giulio. Ah ! if you had 
 ever seen him. Miss, you would not be surprised 
 that we all used to feel as proud of him as we 
 loved him. He was a perfect model of masculine 
 beauty, with hair of raven darkness— yes, and even 
 more soft and glossy than mine !" added Corinna, 
 not speaking thus from any sentiment of vanity, 
 the ingenuousness which wondered that the 
 should rival in delicacy of texture 
 
 hair of i 
 that of a wc 
 "Let us 
 serious has 
 
 pe," said Agnes, " that nothing 
 irred to your brother, and that his 
 silence will in due time bo satisfactorily accounted 
 for. I hope that he has taken warning from his 
 father's example, and not engaged in any con* 
 •piracies " 
 
 " This is by no means likely," answered Co. 
 rinna : " he is quite of a different disposition. 
 But I am speaking of him as if he still lived : 
 whereas, alas ! I fear " 
 
 Here she stopped short ; and again did the 
 tears trickle from her eyes — while her brother and 
 little sister clung to the tattered skirt of her dress, 
 and looked in silent affliction up into her counte- 
 Dance. 
 
 " Do not apprehend the worst," said Agnes. 
 " As 1 have already promised, the means shall be 
 immediately forthcoming to enable your father to 
 
 pay a visit to Florence. But I may possibly have 
 it in my power to assist you in another manner. 
 I have already told you that I have a friend hold- 
 ing a diplomatic situation at the Neapolitan Court i 
 I know that he will interest himself in anything 
 wherein I may crave his intervention ; and at my 
 request he would therefore write to the British 
 Embassy at Florence and cause inquiries to be 
 made relative to your brother Giulio." 
 
 " Oh, dear young lady !" exclaimed Corinna, 
 " how can I possibly express my gratitude ?^ 
 what will my father feel ?— what will he say? 
 Ob, Miss ! you have infused joy into my heart ; 
 and I now long for the return of tLy parent that 
 I may communicate to him how an angel has been 
 in our humble cot!" 
 
 " Where is your father ?" inquired Agnes : 
 " and when do you expect him to return ?" 
 
 " Sometimes," answered Corinna, with a blush 
 mantling upon her countenance, " my poor father 
 obtains some little translations to accomplish— or 
 he meets with refugee friends who are better off 
 
 than himself But Oh, Miss ! it is a sad, sad 
 
 existence to lead !" 
 
 " Doubtless, my poor girl — and Oh, I pity 
 you !" said Agnes, in a voice tremulous with emo- 
 tion. 
 
 " Ah, Miss ! you would indeed pity us even mora 
 than the extent to which your commiseration now 
 reaches, if you knew all !" resumed Corinna. " But 
 good God !" she suddenly exclaimed, " look at this 
 hovel — this vile sordid hut in which we have been 
 compelled to take refuge, and where we endeavour 
 as much as possible to hide our rags and our 
 poverty ! For we still have our little pride. Miss," 
 added the girl, her bosom swelling proudly and the 
 big tears standing in her eyes. " We were gen. 
 teelly born and tenderly reared ; and Oh ! even 
 though for months past we have known this bitter, 
 bitter penury, yet we are not so accustomed to it 
 as to diplay our rags with hardihood and confront 
 the world with the brazen looks of utter despe- 
 ration ! But listen while I give you a few details. 
 My father, though doing a large business, and 
 deriving a respectable income from his affairs, was 
 not a rich man : that is to say, he had very little 
 in the shape of hoarded money — for his politics 
 had often and often involved him in trouble, so 
 that fines and amercements had periodically swept 
 away whatsoever savings he accumulated. And 
 then, too, the business of a notary was to lead 
 money upon mortgage and other securities ; and 
 thus when the sudden blow came at the com- 
 mencement of last year, he was only enabled to 
 flee from Naples with a moderate sum of money. 
 My poor mother's illness was a costly one, consider- 
 ing our limited means ; for my father spared no ex- 
 pense to obtain the best medical attendance which 
 the British metropolis could afford. Thus, by the 
 time that my mother sank into the cold grave, 
 our means were very nearly exhausted. My poor 
 father went everywhere in search of employment: 
 he was willing to do anything that was honourable 
 in order to earn bread for his children. But yott 
 may conceive how difficult it is for an Italian gen- 
 tleman to procure any remunerative work in A 
 capital where in every counting-house doing busi- 
 nees with foreign parts, there are competent clerkr 
 to maintain a correspondence in the different Con- 
 tinental languages. Thus, Miss, as I hare already
 
 983 
 
 Aossa; OB, beauty and PLBlauBB. 
 
 told jou, iLe employuKDt which my father could 
 succeed in ubtaiuiu>;, has been limited, precarious, 
 tad utterly iaadcquate lor the respectable suste- 
 nance of his family. Our descent has been gra- 
 dient, and only too sure. From lodging to lodg- 
 ing, each one humbler than the former, have we 
 been as it were driven,— until we found ourselves 
 reduced to almost the rags of beggary. And our 
 pride. Miss, has induced us to llee from the great 
 city and to conceal ourselves in this hovel. Oh ! 
 for myself I care not : I do not repine— I would 
 submit to any lot! But — but " 
 
 Here the poor girl could restrain her emotions 
 no longer; and she burst into a violent flood of 
 weeping. Her little brother and sister wept like- 
 wise ; and the reader may be assured that the eyes 
 of our amiable heroine did not remain unmoistened. 
 
 "I am not rich," said Agnes, "but all that I 
 can do for you shall be done. You are a young 
 lady, Corinna — and you will give me credit for 
 the wish to accomplish all I can do in as delicate 
 a manner as possible. Take this purse— be not 
 shocked nor oflended— endeavour to look upon me 
 as a friend whom you have known some time, and 
 who exercises the right of assisting you — nay, 
 more, who only performs a duty in rendering that 
 succour which a comparative affluence enables her 
 
 Miss Evelyn's purse happened to contain a 
 bank-note for five pounds and some five or six 
 sovereigns, besides silver : but its contents were 
 not known to Corinna until after the benefactress 
 had departed. The Italian girl took the purse ; 
 and sinking upon her knees, she pressed to her 
 lips the hand which gave it. The two little chil- 
 dren, though not rightly understanding, the scene 
 that was taking place, nevertheless instinctively 
 imitated their sister's example, and went down 
 likewise upon their knees. Agnes was profoundly 
 affected: she raised them ell three ;— she was in 
 the act of cmbraeiDg theui, when the door opened, 
 and a man made his appearance. The ejacula- 
 tions which burst from the lips of Corinna and the 
 little ones, at once revealed to Agnes that this was 
 their father, Siguor Paoli. 
 
 Ke was about fifty years of age : his hair was 
 streaked with grey- he had once been good-looking 
 — but his countenance was vfriukled with affliction, 
 and had a sad careworn look. His attire was ex- 
 cessively shabby and threadbare; but it had a 
 certain air of neatness. It was through no selfish 
 motive that he provided himself with shoes while 
 his children were shoeless; for upon the ciroum. 
 stance of his maintaining even the smallest degree 
 of a respectable appearance depended the con- 
 tingency of his procuring bread to put into the 
 mouths of his ulTspriug. 
 
 The scene before him at once made him aware 
 that an angel had entered into his hut ; and as- 
 suredly no angel from heaven could have descended 
 in a lovelier shspe! The little children flew to 
 him in a manner which convinced Agnes that his 
 character bad not been exaggerated when she re- 
 ceived the assurance that he was a good father : 
 Corinna likewise bounded towards him, displaying 
 the purse and pointing to Agnes — but the poor 
 girl's heart was too full to allow her tongue to i 
 . give utterance to a syllable. I 
 
 I ** Whoever yuu may be, excellent young lady !" 
 I raid Siguor Paoli, turning towards Agnes, and ad- 
 
 dressing her iu very good English, but with a 
 foreign accent — and hia voioo trembled with emO' 
 tion, — " you have this day done something which 
 will not be forgotten by Him who is the giver of 
 all bounties. No !— and assuredly it never can be 
 forgotten by us ! I came borne in despair — and 
 you have filled my heart with joy ! I came to an- 
 nounce to my poor children that I had brought no 
 bread to give them — and I fiod that you have be- 
 stowed your charity with a bounteous hand! I 
 came to tell them that we must all lie down and 
 die together, or adopt the hateful expedient of 
 mendicancy; and you have bidden us live— aye, 
 and what is more, you have saved us from that 
 crowning degradation ! Tell me your name thut 
 I may bless it !" 
 
 Agnes was weeping softly— for there was a most 
 touching pathos in this scene, and all the more so 
 on account of the evident sincerity, the genuine 
 feeling, and the heartfelt emotion with which Paoli 
 spoke. She wiped away her tears; and she gave 
 Paoli her card, — saying, " Your daughter will tell 
 you all that I have proposed ia reference to your 
 son Glulio. Come to me to-morrow, and Ist us 
 discuss the subject at our leisure," 
 
 She was then about to hasten from the hut; but 
 Corinna detained her, exclaiming, " Oh let ma 
 have the happiness of telling my father in you:- 
 presence what you have so generously proposed to 
 do in reference to Giulio 1 Father," she continued, 
 perceiving that Agnes consented to remain, " this 
 angel whom heaven has sent us ia the hour of our 
 bitter need, will give you the means of visiting 
 Florence ; and she has a friend at the British Em- 
 bassy at Kaples, who will use his infiuence with 
 the Embassy at the Tuscan Court, to cause in- 
 quiries to be instituted concerning my dear 
 brother!" 
 
 Paoli could only take our heroine's hand and 
 press it in his own ; for it was now Ait turn to 
 have a heart too full to permit the expression of 
 the feelings from the lips. But then a cloud came 
 over his countenance ; and he said, after a long 
 silence, " My duty towards my son prompts me to 
 use every exertion to clear up the mystery which 
 at present shrouds his fate ; but on the other hand 
 there is a duty which I must perform towards 
 these unprotected ones!" — and ho glanced with 
 tearful eyes upon his children. 
 
 " Let not this latter consideration trouble you, 
 Signor," said Agnes; '* for I have somethiog to 
 propose. Corinna shall come and live with me 
 during your absence. She shall be my friend and 
 companion — I will treat her as if she were my 
 sister. As for these little ones, they too shall find 
 an asylum at my house. The boy shall go to 
 school : there is a seminary ia the neighbourhood, 
 where he may be a day-scholar ; and every care 
 shall be taken of him, as n ell as of this poor child :" 
 — and she patted the little girl caressingly upon 
 the cheek. 
 
 It were impossible to find words to depict the 
 joy — the almost incredulously wild delight, which 
 eeized upon the exiled family as these generous an- | 
 nouDcements met their ears. 
 
 "Down upon your knees, my dear children !" 
 exclaiuied Paoli ; " upon your knees, and thank our 
 benefactress! "—and he himself « as about to sink 
 into that suppliant posture when Agues preventea 
 him.
 
 AGNES; OK, BEATJTT AND PLEASUKB. 
 
 if I mrself 
 
 ow I leave 
 
 "No," she said, resolutely; "this is a homage 
 which must not be offered to a mortal like your- 
 selves ! I am but doing towards jou that which I 
 know JOU would 
 iu distress. And 
 ail I have said— and come to me to morrow." 
 
 Agnes now issued rapidly from the cottage, fol- 
 lowed by the benedictions of those into whose 
 hearts she had infused so much happiness. A^ she 
 sped away from that hovel, she experienced all the 
 sweets of having performed a good action. But, 
 Oh! how few, how very few would have acted iu a 
 similar manner ! Many, on first beholding the group 
 at the door as at the outset it presented itself to 
 the observation of Agnes, would have turned away 
 without thinking to inquire into the circumstances 
 of the poverty of which there were only too visible 
 evidences. Some might have inquired — and they 
 would have contented themselves with doling forth 
 a few pence, or perhaps a little modicum of silver ; 
 but aa for conferring any really useful bounty, or 
 proffering more substantial aid. scarcely one out of 
 a million would have adopted such a course. 
 Agnes ! thou didst indeed stand forth in brilliant 
 contrast with the great mnjority of thy fellow- 
 creatures ! Not only wast thou the personification 
 of Beauty, but likewise of Charity — that noblest 
 and yet meekest of virtues! And while in other 
 parte of the world, thy cousin Floribel, as the per- 
 sonification of Pleasure, was revelling in the midst 
 of voluptuous enjoyments and depraved delights,— 
 thou wast pursuing thy career of holy and uuosten- 
 talioua excellence, flinging the bright beams of 
 hope upon the troubled ocean of humanity, as the 
 pure chaste moon casts its streak of light upon the 
 dark tempestuous sea ! 
 ' But there was some one who had been all the 
 I while watching Agnes from a distance. He had 
 followed her in her ramble — but keeping so far 
 behind, and tracking her with such caution, as to 
 remain unpcrceived by her. He had seen her 
 enter the cottage— he had remained concealed 
 amongst some trees at a little distance — he had 
 lingered in his hiding.place during the hour that 
 •he tarried beneath that humble roof — and he had 
 marked her go forth again. He had not accosted 
 lier: he did not emerge from behind the trees; 
 and as she passed near the spot where be was 
 thus concealed— she suspecting not that any one 
 was there — he discerned upon her countenance 
 that expression of mingled joy and sadness which 
 I naturally arose from the state of her feelings, — 
 joy to think that she should have been enabled to 
 infuse happiness into the hearts of the refugee 
 family, and sadness because of the woes to the 
 recital of which she had been a listener. The 
 person concealed behind the trees, was a thorough 
 man of the world— accustomed to fathom the 
 human heart at a glance : and he comprehended 
 that this angelic expression on the lady's features 
 indicated the performance of a good deed. He 
 wept! Tes — the tears flowed down his cheeks; 
 and he murmured some words in eulogistic apos- 
 trophe to that angel as she passed. 
 
 But she heard them not— neither did he intend 
 that she should hear them: nor cama he forth 
 from his hiding place until she was lost to his 
 view. 
 
 Ihen he emerged from that spot and bent his 
 way towards the cottage. He was a tall man : be 
 
 was dressed iu black— he seemed to be of middle 
 age— and it would have required not a very care- 
 ful study of his countenance to inform the ob- 
 server that he had been acquainted with much 
 care. On arriving at the cmtago door, he beheld 
 a scene which was only too well calculated tc 
 affect the heart of even the most callous and 
 cynical. Paoli was seated, with his little children 
 upon his knees,— while his daughter Corinna was 
 slanding by his side, with her arm thrown round 
 
 neck. 
 
 Mis 
 
 "The name of our benefactress i 
 that refugee parent was saying at the moment. 
 " Let this name never be forgotten in your 
 prayers, dear children ! You, my little ones, are 
 too young to know what would have happened to 
 us all if that beautiful lady had not come. AU 
 though belonging to this earth, yet she is as good 
 as an angel ; and when you read, or speak, or 
 think of angels, you may believe that in their 
 spirit-form they are like unto her who has so re- 
 cently left ua I" 
 
 Paoli was speaking in the English language, 
 which the refugees had for some time past agreed 
 to adopt as their own, — not merely that they 
 might improve themselves in it as much as pos. 
 sible, but likewise because Paoli himself had long 
 apprehended that he should never again visit his 
 native land — that his children would therefore 
 have in course of time to think of getting their 
 living in England, for which purpose they must as 
 it were become naturalized on English soil as 
 much as possible. Therefore the habit of speak- 
 ing in the language of this clime had become a 
 settled one with them ; and indeed the youngest 
 child was almost entirely unacquainted with the 
 Italian tongue. Thanks to the fact of the emi- 
 grants thus using the English language, the 
 words that Paoli was so earnestly and pathetically 
 addressing to his children were intelligible to the 
 listener who had stolen unpcrceived to the half- 
 open door of the cottage. 
 
 When Paoli had ceased speaking, that stranger 
 pushed the door completely open, and made his 
 appearance. He had already heard enough to 
 convince him that the opinion he had previously 
 formed in respect to Agnes Evelyn's visit to the 
 cottage, was the correct one. The rapid glanco 
 which he Hung round upon the countenances that 
 he was now enabled to discern, plainly showed him 
 how interesting were the features and looks of the 
 refugee family. 
 
 " Pardon me for this intrusion," he said ; " and 
 believe me when 1 at once assure you that my 
 object in coming hither is very far from being 
 connected with any impertinent curiosity." 
 
 " We have this day received proofs of the ex- 
 istence of so much goodness in human nature, 
 answered Paoli, " that I can assure you we are in 
 no humour to view any one with mistrust," 
 
 " Thank you for that assurance," responded the 
 stranger. " I perceive that you are not natives of 
 this clime ?" 
 
 "We are Italians," answered Paoli,— "driven 
 from our own country by political persecution. I 
 am a gentleman by birth— but I was well-nigh 
 coming to the mendicant's fate if it had not been 
 for the noble generosity of a young lady whom 
 accident just now brought hither. Ah ! sir, she is 
 indeed an aogel '. She has not merely assisted as
 
 384 
 
 B3 ; OB, BSAUTT i.SD FLEA.erBB. 
 
 — for her bounty is indeed equinlent to a fortune 
 io bciogs who but an hour back had not the means 
 of purchasing bread ! — but ebe baa likewise prof- 
 fered a home to my children while I go forth into 
 the world in search of a son whom I hare lost." 
 
 " It is indeed an angel only who could bare done 
 all this !" ejaculated the stranger emphatically ; 
 while his lip quivered with the emotions that he 
 eiperienced. " But tell me your tale ; and believe 
 me when I reiterate the assurance that I am not 
 inspired by any motive of impertinent curiosity. 
 2Cay, more, 1 may conscientiously declare that 
 when accident should have likewise brought my 
 steps — as it was doing — to this abode, 1 should 
 have endeavoured to afford such succour as my 
 means would permit. And perhaps even now I 
 may be allowed to add the mite of my own philan* 
 thropic feeling to the more substantial benefits con- 
 ferred by the young lady who has so recently left 
 jou r" 
 
 Signor Paoli was convinced of the genuine 
 kindness of the stranger's heart and the perfect 
 sincerity of his language ; and be accordingly 
 hesitated not to tell his tale— which he did in 
 pretty nearly the same terms as his daughter Co- 
 rinna had already told it to Agnes. The stranger 
 listened with the deepest attention; and he seemed 
 to be aiTected when the refugee acquainted him 
 with all the details of Agnes Evelyn's kindness,— 
 bow she purposed to supply him with the means 
 of journeying to Florence, and how she had offered 
 an asylum at Sidney Villa to Corinna and the 
 little ones. 
 
 " And now," said the stranger, " you must per- 
 mit me to offer you some little assistance. 1 am 
 not rich, or I would do more: but this bank-note 
 1 must beg of you to accept it " 
 
 " Generous Englishman !" exclaimed the Italian 
 refugee ; " if I accept this proof of your noble 
 philanthropy and friendship, it will be for the 
 purpose of sparing the necessity of drawing too 
 heavily upon the bounty of the amiable young 
 lady who has so recently taken her departure. And 
 suffer me to consider this amount," he went on to 
 say, glancing at the bank-note, which was for five 
 pounds, ''as a loan which, if ever fortune should 
 again favour me, I shall most honourably and 
 punctually repay : for never yet has there been the 
 sligbti^st shade of mean or dishonourable conduct 
 associated with the name of Sexto Paoli !" 
 
 " Paoli ?" said the stranger : " Paoli ? Is that 
 your name f" — and he looked as if he fancied 
 that he was not now hearing it for the first time. 
 
 "Yes," responded the Neapolitan, "that is my 
 name. It has been branded by a vile tyrannical 
 government— but it has never been disgraced !" 
 
 The stranger appeared to be reflecting with the 
 air of one who was endeavouring to collect certain 
 recollections of the past; and after a pause he 
 asked, " What was the name of the English family 
 with which your wife was connected, and concern, 
 ing whom she hoped to obtain some tidings when 
 setting foot on the English soilp" 
 
 "The name of that family was Morton," an- 
 swered Paoli. " But wherefore do you inquire ?" 
 
 " You have that card before you," continued 
 the stranger, pointing to the one which A?nes had 
 left ; "aud you behold there the name of Evelyn. 
 Did you ever hear that name mentioned before 
 to-day?' 
 
 Paoli. 
 
 • that I ever did," answered 
 ' But why this question ? Yoa must hare 
 
 "Think! reflect!" interrupted the stranger: 
 " did you never by any accident hear the names ot 
 Morton and Evelyn associated ? ' 
 
 " Ah ! now that you mention it," exclaimed 
 Paoli, as a light seemed to be dawning in unto his 
 memory, " I do really think that I have heard 
 my poor deceased wife mention those names in 
 association. Morton Evelyn ? — Morton Evelyn ?' 
 — and Paoli repeated them once or twice, as if to 
 convince himself that they were indeed not alto- 
 gether unfamiliar to his ear. 
 
 " Father," said Corinna, " I assuredly remem- 
 ber to have beard the combined names of Morton 
 and Evelyn issue from the lips of my poor de- 
 ceased mother. It even struck me just now, the 
 moment I glanced at Miss Evelyn's card, that the 
 name was not unknown to me." 
 
 " True, my child !" ejaculated Paoli : " your 
 mother did indeed mention the name of Evelyn 
 on one or two occasions ! And now it occurs to 
 me that she one day explained how the family of 
 the Mortons, from which she herself descended, 
 had intermarried with that of the Evelyns, and 
 thus the names had become associated. But the 
 fact is, sir," continued Paoli, turning towards the 
 stranger, " it was very seldom that my poor wife 
 alluded to her family, until the time when calamity 
 decided us upon visiting this country ; for she 
 had married without their consent — they bad 
 treated her unkindly — many long years bad 
 elapsed during which all intercourse was broken 
 off betwixt herself and her relations in England— 
 and she neither sought nor obtained any informa- 
 tion of them at all. But when misfortune ren- 
 dered us exiles, my poor wife thought that if ever 
 there were a time when there should be forgive- 
 ness and reconciliation, it was at such a period as 
 that ; and she had the idea that the Morton 
 family, which was formerly numerous enough, 
 could not possibly be extinct. Indeed she ex- 
 pected to learn that there were several scions 
 living, and that they were flourishing in their 
 pecuniary circumstances. But alas ! in all these 
 hopes was she disappointed ! Vain were the in- 
 quiries which I instituted : — the Mortons for 
 whom I sought and whoia I expected to find in 
 the mercantile world, were not to be found ! But 
 again let me ask why have you given the conver- 
 sation this turn which it has taken } Strange, 
 and even solemnly interesting would be the coinci- 
 dence—yet Ob, how providentially appropriate ! — 
 if that angel who bears the name of Evelyn, hap- 
 pened to be a descendant of those Evelyns with 
 whom the Mortons intermarried !" 
 
 " And that coincidence has taken place !" re- 
 joined the stranger emphatically. " Yes— it is so f 
 Agnes Evelyn, who came to you in the guise of 
 a ministering angel, is the daughter of a certain 
 Morton Evelyn who must assuredly have been 
 your wife's cousin." 
 
 " Then Miss Evelyn, who visited us just now," 
 exclaimed Corinna, " is to some little extent a 
 connexion ! Ob, we might almost claim her as a 
 relative I — and what happiness to be able to re- 
 gard ber as a being who is at all events very 
 different from a perfect stranger !" 
 
 " Yes," said the English gentleman ; " there is
 
 OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 undoubtedly a certain kiDsbip, though remote, be* 
 iwixt jourselves and Agnes Erelyn." 
 
 " But you, sir," exclaimed Paoli, gazing upon 
 the stranger with astonishment and curiosity, — 
 " who may you be, that you are enabled to com- 
 municate this intelligence ? — from what source 
 gleaned you your knowledge ?" 
 
 " Listen," said the stranger ; " and I will give 
 you a few words of explanation." 
 
 He then spoke confidentially to Signor Paoli 
 and Corinna : but what the nature of his discourse 
 was, we need not explain at this precise point of 
 our narrative. Suffice it to say that after having 
 remained for upwards of an hour at the little hut, 
 the stranger took leave of the refugee family, — a 
 complete understanding cf some kind or another 
 now subsisting between them. 
 No. 19.— Agsbb. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIV. 
 
 OOBINSA. 
 
 Sbiiablb raiment was speedily obtained by Signor 
 Paoli for his family; and on the following day t'-^ey 
 all presented themselves at Sidney Villa. Taey 
 experienced from Agnes the kindest receptiou i 
 they testified towards her their own heartfelt 
 gratitude— but they did not make the slightest 
 allusion to the fact of the discovery that a certain 
 degree of kinship subsisted between them and the 
 young lady. No— nor was any reference made to 
 the stranger through whom that fact had been 
 revealed to their knowledge. 
 
 We need hardly say that Paoli accepted with
 
 «n 
 
 AGSES; OR, BBAUTT ASD FLEASITBI. 
 
 the BiDcerest tliautfulacsa all the propositions | 
 whicn Lad been made to him by Agnes. He | 
 agreed that Carinna and the little ones should ac* 
 cept the asjlum so generously offered them by our I 
 heroine, while he resolted to set off at once to ] 
 Florence to institute inquiries in reference to bis I 
 lost son Giulio. He would only accept a rery i 
 moderate sum from the hands of Agnes,— assuring { 
 her that the expenses of travelliDg were far less | 
 than they really were ; because it did not suit bis 
 purpose to avow the fact that from the hand of 
 another he had received a sum that would mate- ! 
 rially help to defray the cost he was abuut to 
 iocur. He warmly embraced his children — be ' 
 pourtd forth over and over again the assurances ■ 
 of his gratitude to Miss Evelyn— and be took his 
 departure. j 
 
 A most interesting girl was Corinna Paoii, now I 
 that she was attired in apparel suiting the gentility 
 of her birth. But still she chose to dress herself 
 with the greatest simplicity ; yet in that very | 
 plainness there was a good taste bordering almost I 
 upon elegance. The raven darkness of her hair i 
 was set off by the neat lace cap which she wore; | 
 nnd as she was accustomed to arrange her hair in 
 bands, it looked like a smooth ebon frame for her 
 sweet interesting countenance. Happiness now | 
 danced in her large dark eves ; and smiles were , 
 upon the scarlet lips, which, when parted, displayed 
 teeth of ivory whiteness. Her age was between 
 ceventeen and eighteen ; and she looked no older i 
 — for she had not the precocity which is so com- 
 mon a characteristic of the daughters of the sunny 
 South : and perhaps in her case the difference 
 arose from the fact that she had English blood 
 rolling in her veins; and inaeed, through the 
 maternal parent, was half of Saxon origin. Her 
 brother and little sister were not merely marvel- 
 lously improved by the raiment which had dis- 
 placed their rags — but they too were blithe and 
 happy. The boy attended a neighbouring »«hool 
 at which he was placed as a day-boarder: that is 
 10 say, he went thither immediately after breakfast 
 in the morning, and remained until tea-time in 
 the evening. As for the little girl, she was too 
 young to go to school at present ; so she remained 
 entirely at the villa— chieSy in the care of the 
 worthy Bachel, who had conceived a great affec- 
 
 But was Corinna altogether happy ? When the 
 light was dancing in her large dark eyes, and the 
 sunny smiles were wreathing her lips, — was there 
 not the slightest drawback to the perfection of her 
 felicity ? Yes 1 — for her uncertainty in reference 
 to her brother's fate— that brother whom she had 
 so fondly loved— was naturally calcslated to throw 
 a shade upon her soul. But was there naught 
 beside? — was there in her mind no other image 
 the contemplation of which was accompanied with 
 a sigh? Again do we answer with a Ti*.- — but 
 in order that the events which are to follow may 
 be better understood, we must give some explana- 
 tory details in reference to the point to which we 
 are now alluding. 
 
 It was only for a few weeks past that the 
 refugee family had been compelled to seek an 
 as^tlum at that wretched hut where we first found 
 them. Indeed, it has been already said that they 
 moved from lodging to lodging, each one humbler 
 than the former. Therefore if we were to look 
 
 back some seven or eight moaths, we should M«k 
 find that they were still the occupants of quarter* 
 that might be termed decent and comfortable, 
 although of very humble description. In a word, 
 the family at that time dwelt in a couple of ready 
 furnished rooms on one of the higher storeys of a 
 bouse in the neighbourhood of Leicester Square. 
 Xow, as many of our readers are doubtless aware, 
 that neighbourhood is a favourite one for foreigners 
 of all nations ; and thus nearly every house in the 
 same street was let out in lodgings to Frenchmen, 
 Italians, Germans, Hungarians, or Poles, moat of 
 whom had been compelled to fly from their re- 
 spective countries on account of the political affairs 
 of the preceding year 1348 : — for let it be now 
 borne in mind that we are at present writing of 
 the year l&i9. 
 
 At the begining of this same year of 1&19, the 
 Paoli family were occupying the lodgings near 
 Leicester Square to which we have just alluded, 
 when towards the end of February a little incident 
 occurred that must be here mentioned. Corinna 
 bad remarked that the first floor of the house pre- 
 cisely opposite, had been to let ever since she had 
 known the street : but now at length the bill was 
 one morning taken down from the window. It 
 was therefore evident that a lodger had arrived at 
 last. And it was not long before Corinna saw the 
 lodger himself; for at the window she beheld a 
 young man of the most prepossering appearance. 
 He was evidently a foreigner ; and her father, the 
 first time he beheld the individual, pronounced 
 him to be a Frenchman. He was well dressed, 
 and by his appearance was a personage of distinc- 
 tion, — thoagh on the other hand it was scarcely 
 supposed be could be well off, inasmuch as it wm 
 by no means a street which any person having 
 large resources would pitch upon as the place of 
 his reeidence. Still he might be supposed to hsTe 
 a moderate competency, and quite enough to 
 maintain him decently, — as was inferred from the 
 fact of bis having taken the first &Mt of that 
 
 Corinna soon became aware that the young 
 Frenchman had noticed her at the window of her 
 own room : for innocent and artJess though the 
 young damsel were, yet she could not be altogether 
 ignorant that she was good-ljokiog; and as on her 
 own side she was assuredly somewhat interested 
 in the young foreigner from the very first moment 
 that she obtained a glimpse of him from the case- 
 ment, she was led from this very circumstance to 
 suspect that he entertained a kindred feeling with 
 reference to herself and the relatives with whom 
 she was living. She now peeped more timidly 
 and more diffidently from her own window: but 
 on nearly every occasion she saw the young man 
 — until at length a thought began to take posses- 
 sion of her mind that he purposely remained for~ 
 hours at his window in order to be sure to catch 
 a glimpse of her whenever she should appear at 
 her own. When he issued forth to take his walks 
 —which he did with tolerable regularity— he 
 always looked up at the window of the Xespolitan 
 refugees' lodgings ; and thus Corinna could not 
 possibly doubt but that she herself had become ah 
 object of interest for that young gentleman. 
 
 Thus four or five weeks had passed away, and 
 Corinna had not once met the lodger of the oppo- 
 aite huiue. She had not seen him nearer than at Ui(
 
 EABCIE. 
 
 337 
 
 window or in the street; and yet the feeling was 
 irresistibly growing in her benrt that there was a 
 •ecret sympathy establishing itself between them. 
 She could scarcely understand it : she was too 
 ionoc^nt, — too pure^miDded — too little accustomed 
 to suffer her imagination to run wild oo the wing 
 of conjecture in search of the solutions of mys- 
 teries! But at length that feeling to which we 
 have alluded increased in its spontaneous gro^Tth 
 to such an extent as to amount to a positire con- 
 viction of the existence of a strorg sympathy 
 between the two. Corinoa once or twice casually 
 asked her father if he knew anything of their op- 
 posite neighbour? — but he replied in the negative. 
 He had no curiosity — it was not at all likely he 
 would make any inquiry upon the point : — indeed 
 be was ignorant of the very name of the indivi- 
 dual. 
 
 One day Signor Paoli was unwell and unable to 
 leave his room. He required some little neces- 
 saries, which Corinna went forth to purchase,— 
 leaving him to take care of the little ones. She 
 now for the first time met the object of her secret 
 sympathy. A closer view justified the favourable 
 impression she bad formed of his personal appear- 
 ance. He was exceedingly handsome — his man- 
 ners were elegant— and there was about him that 
 unmistakable air of distinction which denoted the 
 individual accustomed to the very best society. 
 Poor Corinna was seized with a confusion which 
 amounted almost to shame ; for the thought flashed 
 to her mind that she was poorly clad, though still 
 her attire vras very far from being so wretched as 
 it subsequently became at the time when we first 
 introduced her to our readers. She bad occa- 
 sionally found herself secretly longing to meet that 
 young gentleman, if only to assure herself that 
 be was precisely what her fancy had pictured him 
 from a distance : but now the wish was gratified, 
 ebe felt as if she could desire the earth would 
 suddenly open and swallow her up. Bat all this 
 timidity vanished, and her cheeks glowed with the 
 animation of another feeling which sent a thrill 
 of delight through her heart, when the young 
 gentleman, making her a bow replete with the 
 most friendly courtesy, attempered with all possi- 
 ble respect, remarked upon the state of the 
 weather, or threw out some such observation by 
 means of which one stranger usually endeavours 
 to get into discourse with another. He spoke in 
 French, which Corinna understood sufliciently to 
 enable her to answer him, — when be, at once per- 
 ceiving that she was not a fellow-countrywoman, 
 ejaculated, " Tou must be an Italian, if I may 
 judge by your accent ?" She replied in the allir- 
 mative; and then her natural propriety suggested 
 that it would be indiscreet to linger in conversa- 
 tion with him there. She therefore bowed and 
 hurried on. But now the ice was broken between 
 them ; and every morning when Corinna ap- 
 proached her window, the young Frenchman was 
 stationed at his own casement opposite to repeat 
 the bow of friendly courtesy with which ho had 
 first introduced himself. Thus six weeks passed 
 away : and Corinna'a gentle heact unmistakably 
 acknowledged the impression which the young 
 French stranger had made upon it. 
 
 A second time they met. Corinna was again 
 alone; and on this occasion she permitted the 
 young Frencbmao to vallc F>J her side. She felt 
 
 assured that he was a refugee from his own 
 country, as her father was from Naples; and 
 in the guilelessness of her soul she felt as if 
 this circumstance warranted the dispensation with 
 those cold formalities which ought to precede 
 the acquaintance of two young persons. Besides, 
 the conviction was now strixig in her mind that 
 their did exist a certain sympathy between them, 
 though she could not thus explain it to herself — 
 much less could she have shaped it in words, if 
 questioned upon the point. In the course of con- 
 versation the young Frenchman informed her that 
 he was indeed a refugee, — thus corroborating her 
 surmise. He stated that he had recently been in 
 Italy, and that on his return to France be had 
 unfortunately fallen in with three or four gentle- 
 men who belonged to a secrot Socialist society. 
 He went on to explain that he was totally averse 
 to all political plottiogs — that he had nothing to do 
 with the intrigues of his new friends— and that ho 
 was even ignorant of the perilous designs on which 
 they were bent. But one day he received a 
 private intimation from a relative who was a 
 clerk of high standing at the Prefecture of Police, 
 — to the efi'ect that he was looked on vfith suspi- 
 cion by the authorities, that the knowledge which 
 the government had obtained of a secret conspi- 
 racy's existence threatened most seriously to com- 
 promise him, and that if he did not at once leave 
 Paris with all possible despatch he would assuredly 
 be transported to Cayenne. Aware of the remorse- 
 less proceedings which Louis Napoleon (then Presi- 
 dent of the French nation) was adopting towards all 
 persons who stood in bis way, the young gentle- 
 man had at once followed the friendly counsel of 
 his relative, and had taken to flight. To add to 
 his misfortunes, a notary who had the manage- 
 ment of the greater portion of his property was 
 similarly compromised, and was compelled like- 
 wise to flee,— leaving the affairs of all his clients 
 in a state of the most deplorable confusion. Thus 
 proscribed for an offence of which he was utterly 
 innocent, and nearly ruined in purse, the young 
 Frenchman, hitherto rich and accustomed to revel 
 in every luxury, found himself an impoverished 
 refugee in a foreign land. Such was the state- 
 ment which he gave to Corinna, — adding that bis 
 game was Edgar Marcellin. 
 
 On her own side Corinna gave some explana- 
 tions — but her's were more brief. She mentioned 
 that her father's name was Paoli— that he had fled 
 with his family from Naples upwards of a year 
 previously— that her mother had recently died — 
 and that she had a brother who had remained in 
 Italy. But she did not happen to mention that 
 his Christian name was Giulio ; while through 
 shame or false modesty — let the reader call it 
 which he will — she kept back the circumstance 
 that he had quitted the University at Padua to 
 accept a menial situation as the means of inde- 
 pendently earning his own bread. Now, it will be 
 here convenient for the reader's sake if we mention 
 two or three little facts. Edgar Marcellin was the 
 same who had intrigued with Ciprina at Florencei 
 and who had fled suddenly from that city in con- 
 sequence of the threat of the Marchioness Luorezia 
 di Mirano to denounce him as the murderer of the 
 page Giulio. In conversing with Corinna, he 
 mentioned none of these names ; be merely laid 
 in a general way that he had been trareV.inj in
 
 388 
 
 IGXEE; OE, BEAUTY A!ID PLBASCBE. 
 
 It«lj— he did not specify Florence as having been 
 the principal place of his sojourn when in that 
 rouDtrj. We must likewise add that when in 
 Florence, be bad never happened to learn Giulio's 
 iurname of Paoli : be had merely known the 
 youth aa simple Giulio. Thus, after the inter- 
 change of explanations between himself and Co- 
 rinna, she was as far from suspecting as he him- 
 self <cas that it was her own brother whom he had 
 encountered in Florence, whom be had known as 
 a page there, and of whose assassination the Mar- 
 chioness di !MiraDO bad accused him, accompanying 
 that accusation with the threat that forced him to 
 so speedy a flight. 
 
 On balf-adozen subsequent occasions, while 
 they still dwelt in the same street in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Leicester Square, did Kdgar ilarcellin 
 ftnrj Corinna meet : but these interviews were 
 always brief and hurried— for the young girl dared 
 not remain too long away from her home. She 
 did not mention the meetings to her father, — 
 simply from the fact that the maiden coyness of a 
 first lore put its seal upon her lips. Ilarcellin 
 gave her to understand that he loved her, though 
 without any positive and formal avowal — either 
 because, however loose his principles might be 
 when he fell in with such a woman as Ciprina, he 
 was not sufficiently heartless to study deliberately 
 the seduction of an innocent confiding creature 
 such as Paoli's daughter — or else because, it he 
 did really entertain honourable intentions, he must 
 have felt that situated as they both were, it was 
 nut an opportune period for revealing them. 
 Nevertheless, be was assuredly enamoured of the 
 girl; and thus he could not help to a certain ex. 
 tent betraying his feelings. 
 
 But now something occurred which was sud- 
 denly and sternly to separate the lovers. The 
 remittances from Giulio had for some time ceased; 
 iod Paoli one evening informed Corinna that they 
 could no longer afford to live in their present 
 lu igings— that he had taken others in a cheaper 
 neighbourhood — and that they must remove at 
 once. This was a sad blow to the poor girl : but 
 when she burst into tears, her father naturally 
 fancied that her grief was merely occasioned by 
 this fresh indication of their descent in the path- 
 way of poverty. Their little packages were soon 
 arranged, and the refugee family went away on 
 foot to a quarter of the metropolis at least a 
 couple of miles distant from that which they bad 
 just left. Edgar Marcellin's windows were at the 
 time dark— for he did not dine at home, and was 
 passing the evening elsewhere. Thus when he 
 went to his window in the morning, to pay his 
 usual salutation to Corinna, be beheld not the ac- 
 customed beautiful face at the casement. He S03n 
 learnt the truth : the Neapolitan refugees were 
 gone— and he could not ascertain to which part of 
 the multitudinous Babylon they hai removed. 
 
 It was, as we have said, a sad blow to Corinna : 
 the occupation that bad afforded a soft innocent 
 pleasure to her gentle guileless heart, was gone ! 
 She could no longer look from her window to be- 
 huld a handsome sympathizing countenance oppo- 
 site : she could no longer hurry forth on some do- 
 mestic errand with the certainty of meeting one 
 who had made a strong impression upon her mmd ! 
 But still all hope was not dead within her. She 
 thought that bj some means £dgar Marcellio 
 
 would discover her present residence :— in her in* 
 nocence she little knew how unlikely this was, un- 
 lets by some strange accident, amidst the mazes of 
 the huge metropolis. And that accident did not 
 occur. She thought of writing to Edgar Marcellia 
 — but she dared not. On what ground could the 
 address him ? Her heart bad told her at the time 
 that be loved her: but now she began to doubt it. 
 He bad never openly avowed himself; and she 
 fancied that he could not possibly be miking any 
 attempt to find her out, or else ho must succeed. 
 Then, at the expiration of a few weeks, freah indi- 
 cations of the downward descent presented them- 
 selves ; and the refugee family removed to a still 
 remoter and poorer lodging. Poverty smote sterner 
 blows and became more and more visible,— more 
 and more developing its lean, gaunt, ghastly, spec- 
 tral shape! Another removal to a still poorer 
 neighbourhood and a still meaner abode — and the 
 last remaining garments of Corinna and her little 
 brother and sister began to fritter into rags. Yes! 
 —and these were rags which soon defied all her 
 thrift and labour— all her skill with the needle — 
 to prevent them from becoming so. Then, while 
 stifling a convulsive sob at the thought of Edgar 
 ilarcellin, poor Corinna would try to persuade her- 
 self that she ought to rejoice that be did not aee 
 her, now clothed in penury's garb as she was— 
 fallen from even the last semblance of gentility, 
 save and except in reference to that natural air of 
 distinction which no rags could completely conceal. 
 Indeed, to this stale of mind the poor girl w»s 
 evidently resigning herself; so that at last she 
 came to look upon her brief acquaintance with 
 Edgar MarcelUn as something as shadowy a* a 
 bygone dream that never could come back. 
 
 Then ensued the last descent in the downward 
 path, and the poor refugees found an asylum in the 
 wretched hut where we first introduced them to 
 the reader. And now they were in utter rags — 
 with the exception of the father, who for the reason 
 which we have already set forth, managed to keep 
 kimself as presentable as possible, for fear lest he 
 should lose the last chance of obtaining bread for 
 bis children. But from that state of misery the 
 refugees were redeemed by the accidental visit of 
 Agnes Evelyn to their abode, — and having given 
 these requisite explanations, we may now resume 
 the thread of our narrative. 
 
 Corinna. installed beneath the hospitable roof 
 of Sidney Villa, found herself well clothed and felt 
 that she was a lady once again. Nouj if she were 
 to meet Edgar Ilarcellin, she should not be 
 ashamed! Her heart throbbed at the idea; and 
 every time she went out to walk with Agnes — 
 especially when their rambles extended to any dis- 
 tance towards the West End of London — she 
 thought it probable that she might encounter him 
 
 again uppermost 
 
 her mind. But no ! 
 
 she beheld him not. Might she not now write to 
 him ? Alas, no ! for again recurred the question, 
 What ground had she for doing so .' Besides, she 
 could not ask him to call upon her at Sidney Villa: 
 she could not take such a liberty with the dwelling 
 of her friend and benefactress ; — and ber natural 
 sense of propriety shrank from the thought ot ep- 
 pointiog a meeting elsewhere. She could there- 
 fore do nothing: but she frequently caught herself 
 sighing silently and inwardly, as the secret voice of 
 her soul breathed the name of Edgar MarcelUn.
 
 AGNES; OB, liKALir ASll PLtASUKK. 389 
 
 Nearly a month had elapsed aince the departure 1 residing there, and that she was not merely payinff 
 of Signor Paoli for Florence; and it was now j a passing visit or making a call on the occasioo, 
 about the middle of October. One day — the : Still Edgar did not liLe to throw away this chance 
 weather being remarkably fine, with a sun as of obtaining an interview with the refugee'* 
 bright and an atmosphere as genial as if the i daughter ; and the feelings which were now 
 ■easons had made a mistake and Spring had caught prompting him towards this end, were rapidly 
 up the sceptre of declining Autumn— Agnes and | growing stronger than the sense of shame which 
 Corinna walked out together. The little boy was had hitherto held him back. 
 
 at school, as usual; the little girl was playing in " Why should I not present myself?" he asked, 
 the garden under the eye of the good-hearted , " Can she really have ceased to love me ? Did 
 Eachcl. The two young ladies walked round the she purposely avoid me ere now ?" 
 Regent's Park, and then began to bend their steps , Corinna and Agnes were entering the villa, 
 homeward. Just as they were issuing from the while the little girl disappeared along an avenua 
 Park, Corinna was recognised by a young man who of evergreens, where she rejoined the kind and 
 was a little way behind. She happened to turn watchful Kichel. Eigar entered the garden, »nd 
 her head for a moment: he caught a glimpse of, bent his way towards the door of the picturesque 
 her countenance — he knew her in an instant — for habitation,— unseen by any one belonging to the 
 this was Eigar ACarcellin, But she perceived him premises. 
 
 not ; and even if she had, she might have been ei- j Corinna at once ascended to her chamber to put 
 cased if she failed to recognise him so speedily as i off her bonnet and scarf : Agnes was likewis» 
 be had known her. Tor be was much altered : — about to repair to her own room for a similar pur- 
 be had shaven off the moustache which was wont , pose, when the housemaid accosting her, said, " IE 
 to set off his upper lip, and the beard which bad you please, Miss, the general postman brought 
 given 80 manly a finish to bis remarkably hand- this letter while you were out, apologizing that 
 Bome face. His garments were shabby : there was j through some mistake it was cot delivered thia 
 8 poverty-stricken air about him : it was no longer j morning." 
 
 Agnes took the letter, which 
 
 herself; and she saw that it was the handwriting of j 
 
 a foreigner, while one of the postmarks indicated 1 
 
 the city of Florence. Miss Evelyn tberefore felt i 
 
 tolerably certain that this letter'emanated from | 
 Signor Paoli ; and she feared lest thei 
 
 the brilliant and fashionable Edgar Marcel'dn whom 
 we first introduced to our readers in the gorgeous 
 saloons of the Mirano mansion at Florence : it ; 
 was the young Frenchman in a decayed and fallen i 
 condition ! But yet his toilet indicated the despe- 
 rate struggle of a gentleman to maintain as much > 
 
 neatness as possible, and to conceal to the utmost something wrong on acccount of the 
 of his power the presence of that poverty which | of the refugee thus writing in the first instance to 
 had fastened its hand upon him. i herself instead of to his daughter. She hastened 
 
 And now accident has thrown Edgar Marcellin to her chamber, where she opened the epistle: but 
 in the track of the Neapolitan refugee's daughter. | she had not perused many lines before the colour 
 But could that indeed be Corinna ? Yes : there vanished from her cheeks — an expression of horror 
 was no doubt of it ! That beautiful face— that | appeared upon her countenance — and she mut>. 
 symmetrical figure — that elastic walk — that gait ] mured to herself, " Ob, what a task has the un- 
 which was replete with girlish elegance scarcely as : happy father deputed unto me ! — how can I break 
 yet blending with womanly dignity,— Ob, yes! all j the intelligence to poor Corinna? Murdered 1 — 
 this was unmistakable^it was Lis own Crioiia! just heaven, murdered!" 
 
 But had she not seen him ? or was she purposely Agnes was so much affected by the contents of 
 endeavouring to avoid him ? Perhaps at a glance the letter which she had just opened, that she felH 
 she bad caught sight of bis impoverished appear- I a faintness coming over her — she was compelled 
 ance ; and walking as she was with that young | to sit down to recover herself —and then she de- 
 lady, she felt ashamed to be accosted by any one | liberated upon the best means ot breaking to 
 apparelled in a mean or shabby style? He was | Corinna the fearful intelligence which she had to 
 about to turn hastily round and rush away in an- impart. Indeed it was not merely an unpleasant 
 other direction, when he thought that at least he j task : it was positively a frightful one :— and the 
 would endeavour to ascertain where Corinna was . young lady could not settle her tbojgbts to the 
 living, — inasmuch as he might then lake any step I precise form of words in which she should com- 
 wbich farther deliberation should suggest. He ' mence her revelation to Corinna, Thus for up- 
 accordingly followed at a distance, — ^keeping the I wards of a quarter of an hour, or perhaps nearly 
 ladies in view, but taking care to be unperceived , twenty minutes, did Agnes remain in her own 
 by them if either should happen to look round. In , chamber after she had opened that letter ; — and 
 this manner he tracked them until they turned in I we must see what in the meanwhile is taking place 
 at the gate of Sidney Villa : be longed to follow j below. 
 
 to seek an interview with Corinna, to congratulate Corinna, having thrown off her bonnet and 
 her on the prosperity which her own appearance i scarf, descended to the parlour on the ground 
 indicated: but bis cheeks glowed with shame as fioor ; and she was about to take up her needle - 
 he thought that the aspect of bis own toilet would work, when she heard a rustling of the window- 
 tell so very different a tale ! Nevertheless he could curtains. One of the casements reaching down to 
 not tear himself away from the spot : he lingered the ground, had been left open to give admittance 
 near the gate. He now beheld a little child come | to the fresh warm atmosphere ; for we have already 
 boonding forward with arms outstretched towards ' said that although it was now the middle of Oc- 
 Corinna and the lady with whom she was walking; | tober, yet that the weather was as delicious as on 
 and he recognised Corinns's little sister. It was : the finest days of Spring. Corinna, on hearing 
 t '.erefore now tolerably evident that Corinna was ! that rustling sound, fancied that it was her littl*
 
 390 
 
 AGUES; OE, BEAUXT AlfP PLEASUEg. 
 
 Biiter returning from her gamboUings in the gar- 
 den ; and ehe hastened forward to bestow a caress 
 upon the loved child to whom she almost con- 
 aidered that she stood in the light of a mother. 
 But Ah ! on approaching the casement, whom 
 ahnuld she behold before her but Edgar Mar- 
 cellio ? 
 
 Amazement seized upon the young girl : but 
 joy was 80 unmistakably blended with this look of 
 agtoniahment, that the Frenchman mentally ejacu- 
 lated, while rapture thrilled through his heart, 
 "She loves mo!— she still loves me! Beautiful 
 Corinna ! she still loves me !" 
 
 " Ob ! is it you, Monsieur I" exclaimed the 
 Neapolitan damsel, her cheeks now glowing with 
 blushes, but joy still dancing in her large dark 
 eyes. 
 
 " Yes, dearest Corinna — it is 1 !" he responded 
 — " your own Edoar, who has never ceased to 
 think of you ! Nu, never, my well-beloved ! — 
 and blessed be the day which thus brings us to- 
 gether again !" 
 
 Her^ hand was already clasped in bis own ; and 
 be now pressed it to his lips. She did not imme- 
 diately disengage it, although it was the first time 
 that those lips had ever touched her flesh ; and 
 while the blushes still burnt upon her cheeks, the 
 light of innocent joy was slill dancing in her 
 superb black eyes. 
 
 " And I too have thought of you, Edgar," she 
 tremulously murmured. " Where have you been ? 
 Why — why did you not endeavour to see me 
 
 " Ob, Corinna !" he ejaculated, " rather let me 
 ask why you quitted that neighbourhood so sud- 
 denly, and why you never wrote to me ?" 
 
 " Edgar," she rejoined, with downcast and sad- 
 dened look, "it was poverty which compelled us 
 to leave that neighbourhood ! —and if I did not 
 write to you it was because I feared to be deemed 
 guilty of an indiscretion— to be looked upon as 
 too bold— in a word, to be thought unmaidenly in 
 my conduct " 
 
 " Ob, Corinna !" exclaimed Marcellin, " did you 
 not know that I loved you ? Ah ! I certainly 
 had not gone to the extent of making a positive 
 and formal avowal; because I felt that our posi- 
 tions were for the time being, false, peculiar, and 
 delicate ! But, O'a ! if my language took not the 
 form of love, at least it was redolent thereof ! — 
 if it embodied itself not into love's shape, it must 
 at least have wafted the whisperings of love's 
 spirit ! Oh, yes, Corinna ! you knew that I loved 
 jou !" 
 
 " I thought it — I hoped it," responded the 
 young girl, in a timid and tremulous tone, and 
 still with looks that were bashfully cast down- 
 ward. 
 
 " Ob ! and you loved me in return ?" ejaculated 
 Edgar Marcellin, his countenance lighting up with 
 a joy the radiance of which rendered its masculine 
 beauty perfectly godlike in appearance. " Tell 
 me, Corinna— tell me, my beloved— do you enter- 
 tain towards me a similar feeling now ? Oh, yes, 
 I read it in those eyes ! — yes, 'tis the language of 
 love which they speak ! Oh, dearest Corinna ! 
 you know not the amount of happiness which you 
 are infusing into my heart!" 
 
 ne now strained the Neapolitan girl to his 
 breast, and imprinted kisses upon her cheeks ; but 
 
 still mingled with all his fervour, there seemed to 
 be that sense of respect towards herself which in- 
 variably accompanies the true and honourable lore 
 which a young man entertains towards a youthful 
 maiden. 
 
 Gently disengaging herself from Marceliin'fl 
 embrace, after having for a few moments received 
 his caresses, Corinna said, " Ah ! you must not 
 think, Edgar, that it was without pain 1 received 
 the sudden mandate from my father's lips to pro- 
 pare for immediate removal, on that night when 
 we left the neighbourhood of Leicester Square 1 
 And since then, Edgar, we have gone through n 
 much trouble, and suffered so very much! — we 
 
 have experienced fearful vicissitudes i Oh I 
 
 heaven ! I cannot bear to look back and think of 
 it all !" 
 
 "Poor Corinna!" murmured Marcellin. "But 
 do you now live here ?" 
 
 " Yes— with an angel in human shape, whom 
 heaven sent to redeem us from the depth of 
 misery!— a young lady named Miss Evelyn," 
 added Corinna, her looks full of gratitude towatdi 
 the imago of her benefactress. 
 
 " Ah ! it was doubtless this young lady with 
 whom I just now beheld you walking ?" said Mar- 
 cellin. 
 
 "Y'es— we have only very recently returned 
 from the Kegeat's Park," replied Corinna. 
 
 " From whence I followed you," added Marcel- 
 lin. " Ah ! then, dearest Corinna, you did not eea 
 me — you did not recognise me-^— " 
 
 " See you and recognise you in the Park, 
 Edgar? Oh, no!" exclaimed Corinna; " for if I 
 had seen you, 1 should have assuredly testified my 
 joy. I am no hypocrite and no deceiver ; and I 
 should have at once told Miss Evelyn the exact 
 truth. But wherefore did you not accost me?— 
 why adopt these stealthy means to obtain an in- 
 terview with me ?" inquired Corinna, now recol- 
 lecting that Edgar had introduced himself to her 
 presence by means of the open casement, and 
 that he had not entered the villa through the 
 more proper medium of the front door. 
 
 " Ah, look at me, Corinna 1" be said, in a 
 mournful voice: "behold how altered in my ap- 
 pearance I am !" 
 
 " Tou have discarded your moustache and your 
 beard," responded the young girl; "but never- 
 theless I knew you in a moment ! And what bai 
 this to do with " 
 
 " Look at me again, Corinna!" interjected Mar- 
 cellin : "look at my toilet — my apparel!" he 
 added bitterly. 
 
 Until this moment the refugee's daughter had no 
 eyes for anything that was disagreeable : she had 
 been content to gaze only on Edgar's handsome 
 countenance, and to observe the joy which was 
 shining in his own eyes. But now that her at- 
 tention was so specially directed to his apparel, 
 she flung a glance over his entire person ; and she 
 felt shocked at the contrast which his appearance 
 presented with that which it afforded whoa first 
 she knew him, 
 
 " You too, then, have suffered, my poor Edgar !" 
 she said, now of her own accord offering her hand 
 and pressing his own with a sympathizing fond- 
 ness. 
 
 "Yes— I have suffered, Corinna," he replied; 
 " and most uraustly have I been made to suffer I
 
 >; OK, 
 
 :ai 
 
 I have Bent memorials aod petitioDS to the French 
 Government: but Cbd tyrant who under the name 
 of President swajs the destinies of France, lias 
 doubtless commanded the underlings who call 
 themselves bis Ministers lo treat all my explana- 
 tions and representations nith a cold contemptu- 
 ous silence. All my pecuniary afTairs have fallen 
 into confusion ; and not only am I rendered an 
 exile, but lilieivise a bankrupt. Ah, mine indeed 
 ia a sad fale, dear Coriuna !" 
 
 " Yes — the fate of all political exiles is doubt- 
 less most sad," replied the young girl ; '• for 
 heaven knows that my father and his family have 
 had bitter experiences of the truth of what I have 
 just said ! But tell me of yourself, EJgar ? What 
 »re you now doing ? ' 
 
 " I am teaching languases for my bread, Co- 
 rinna," replied the young Frenchman. " Yes— I 
 who was wont to mingle in the very best society 
 — who found myself courted in all the most bril- 
 liant circles — who bad only to make my appear- 
 ance in any capital in Europe, in order to find 
 next day the cards of the highest aristocracy upon 
 my table, — I, the courted and the caressed, am 
 now reduced to the position of a miserable pre- 
 ceptor teaching French for a few shillings a lesson 
 in a foreign country ! But this is not all : there 
 is still a greater humiliation to which I have been 
 compelled to submit. The few pupils whom I 
 possess, are scions of the British aristocracy : but 
 the British aristocracy are so grossly saturated 
 with prejudices, that they conceive a beard and 
 moustache must necessarily be indicative of a Eed 
 Sepublican and Socialist ; and still in that same 
 besotted spirit, they look upon all Eed Eepub- 
 lioans and Socialists as so many monsters whom 
 it would bo a blessing to exterminate by means of 
 magic or gunpowder. Well then, to bs brief, 
 Corinna, in order that I may be enabled to earn 
 my bread as a preceptor of languages, I have 
 been compelled to render my upper lip and my 
 •bin as smooth as you now behold them. These 
 things I should account as the veriest trifles— 
 utterly unworthy of mention, — -were it not part 
 and parcel of the humiliations which I have en- 
 dured 1" 
 
 " You must lire in hope, Edgar," replied Co- 
 rinna, " that a brighter day will dawn upon 
 jou." 
 
 " I must believe that the dawning of such a 
 day has already commenced, my beloved," re. 
 •ponded Marcellin, *' inasmuch as I am again 
 blessed by beholding your countenance and listen- 
 ing to the sounds of your voice ! And Oh, Co- 
 rinna ! if ever a brighter day should indeed dawn 
 for me — if restored to my own country I should 
 recover my fortune, and again enjoy the position 
 from which I have been so cruelly hurled down, — 
 Ob, believe ma that I should only be too happy 
 to throw myself at your feet, to offer you my hand 
 as you already possess my heart, and to beseech 
 that you will accompany me to the altar !" 
 
 These were delicious words for the ears of the 
 young girl to drink in ; for the language of love 
 is as sweet to the soul as the choicest nectar is to 
 the tongue; — and while Corinna's cheeks were 
 luffused with modest blushes, the light of joy was 
 •wimming in her eyes, and her gentle bosom was 
 heaving and sinking with the palpitations of her 
 
 "Where is now your father f" inquired Mar. 
 cellin, after a brief pause. 
 
 " Qo is not in Eugland," answered Corinnat 
 " he has gone to Italy." 
 
 " To Italy P" ejaculated Edgar. " But he ia 
 not insensate enough to plunge headlong again 
 into political intrigues, at a period when reaction 
 is everywhere taking place — when things are 
 universally tending towards desputtsm on the Con- 
 tinent—and therefore when the failure of insur- 
 rectionary attempts is inevitable ?" 
 
 *' No — my father does not entertain any ideas 
 of fresh plot and intrigue," responded Corinna; 
 " neither has he gone to Naples. His object in 
 visiting another of the Italian States, is to seek 
 after his sou — my elder brother — of whom I think 
 that I must have spoken to you " 
 
 " Yes — I believe so, Corinna," interjected Mar- 
 cellin. "But whatsoever your father's motive for 
 revisiting Italy may be, I hope that he will ac- 
 complish his aim safely and successfully. And in 
 the meanwhile, Corinna, during your father's ab- 
 sence you are residing with this young Euglish 
 lady who has become so great a friend and bene- 
 factress?" 
 
 "Yes— Miss Evelyn, who is as amiable as she 
 is beautiful," replied Corinna. " Ah ! now I be- 
 think me, she will be coming hither directly 
 
 indeed I wonder that she has not already de- 
 scended from her o»n chamber ! 1 will inlroduco 
 you to her— I will tell her everything that has 
 taken place between us— for I must keep back no 
 secrets from her knowledge- Oh, no! not for 
 worlds would 1 !" 
 
 " \Vould it not be better, my dear Corinna," 
 asked EJ^ar Marcellin, " if I were to retire for a 
 few minutes, while you explained yourself to Miss 
 Evelyn? Indeed, the propriety of such a course 
 is apparent enough. You must first ascertain 
 whether it be agreeable for her to receive me : — 
 you can tell her that I am a gentleman by birth, 
 Corinna- but that in circumstances I am reduced 
 
 You may tell her likewise that I aai not so 
 
 reckless of your happiness as to hint at the pro- 
 bability of our being united for the present, until 
 circumstances shall place me in a more favour- 
 able position." 
 
 " Eest assured, Edgar," responded Corinna, with 
 a bewitcbiugly sweet smile, " I shall speak of you 
 to Miss Evelyn as you deserve— and that is not in 
 a way which will tend to your disparagement. 
 And now go and walk in the garden while I seek 
 the amiable Agnes " 
 
 " But one word, Corinna !" interrupted Edgar. 
 " Have you ever told your father of the meetings 
 that used to take place f— did you ever suffer him 
 to learn that 1 had introduced myself to hia 
 daughter, and that by my looks I had given her 
 to understand that I loved her ?" 
 
 " No— I never mentioned all this to my father," 
 replied Corinna, with a blush rising upon her 
 cheeks ; " and I feel that I ought to have dona 
 so !" 
 
 " But what explanation will you give to Misa 
 Evelyn," inquired Edgar Marcellin, " if she ques- 
 tion you on this point ? Ah, by the bye, at once 
 let me ask when do you expect your father's re- 
 turn home?" 
 
 "I have not the slightest idea," responded Co- 
 rinna. " He has been gone nearly a month— and I
 
 J92 
 
 AG>E9 ; OB, BEiCIJ ASD PLEASCEE. 
 
 fanTe unl; received one letter from him, which was 
 but a hast^ liae written from Leghorn to saj that 
 he bad reached the Italian abore in safety, and 
 that he was about to continue his journey without 
 delay. Now as three days have elapsed since I 
 received that communication, 1 may daily and 
 hourly be looking for another letter — because 
 Florence is at no great distance from Le- 
 
 " Ah ! then your father has gone to Florence ?" 
 •aid Marcellin. 
 
 " Yes," replied Corinna : " for alas ! it is now 
 eight months since we receired any tidings of my 
 beloved brother " 
 
 " Poor Corinna !" said Marcellin compassion- 
 ately : " you have now this new cause for appre- 
 hension and distress !" 
 
 "Alas, yes I" rejoined Corinna: "but heaven 
 grant that nothing calamitous may have occurred 
 to my dear brother Giulio!" 
 
 " Giulio !" ejaculated Edgar, v?ith a sudden 
 start: and then he muttered to himself, " But no ! 
 it cannot be ! A mere coincidence I" 
 
 " Yee," continued C jrinna, " my brother's namo 
 is Giulio. Why did you seem to look as if you 
 were listening to something strange ? Ah, Edgar, 
 I 0U3;ht now to reveal to your ears a certain piece 
 of information which through a sense of false 
 shame I suppressed when first I knew you. It 
 was that poor Giulio found himself compelled to 
 leave the University of Padua — he then went to 
 
 JFlorenee Alas! he was compelled to accept a 
 
 menial position " 
 
 " A menial position 1" ejaculated Edgar : and 
 then as he glanced half in afiright at the young 
 girl, he was suddenly smitten with the conviction 
 of something which had never struck bim before 
 — namely, that there was a likeness betwixt the 
 page Giulio whom he had known in Florence and 
 the maiden who stood before him. 
 
 " Is it possible that you ever met my brother ?" 
 asked Corinna hastily. "Have you been to Flo- 
 rence, Edgar ? Were you at Florence before your 
 misfortunes in France ?" 
 
 "Florence?" — and it was with a half vacant, 
 half bewildered air that Marcellin thus repeated 
 the name of the Tuscan capital. "Oh, yes! I 
 iiave been to Florence." 
 
 " Did you happen to know or to hear of the 
 Marchioness di Mirano?" inquired Corinna. "But 
 Ah ! you again start !— you look frightened !— Ob, 
 I understand! Xes ! yes! footsteps are approach- 
 ing ! Miss Evelyn is coming! Hasten you into 
 the garden, until I summon you back !" 
 
 With these words the young maiden playfully 
 pushed her lover across the threshold of the case- 
 ment ; and as she turned away from thence, Agnes 
 entered the room. She held a letter in her hand ; 
 ■nd Corinna was at once struck by the sad serious- 
 ness of her countenance. Instead therefore of at 
 once entering upon the ingenuous revelation of her 
 love for Edgar Marcellin, the young maiden 
 anxiously inquired, " Good heaven, my dear friend! 
 is anything the matter?" 
 
 " lly poor Corinna," responded Agnes, " it 
 grieves me infinitely to become the medium of 
 unpleasant intelligence " 
 
 " Unpleasant intelligence ?" echoed Corinna, 
 glancing at the letter which Agnes held in her 
 
 Ob, has any mischief occurred Co 
 
 hand: 
 
 dear father 
 
 " No, Corinna," hastily rejoined Miss E 'el^n s 
 "no personal injury has. been sustained by your 
 parent ! Of that you may rest assured !" 
 
 " Then my poor brother — my beloved brother 
 Giulio," ejaculated Corinna, with feverish haste, 
 anxiety, and suspense — " has any mischief be- 
 fallen him ?" 
 
 At this moment there was a rustling behind the 
 draperies of the open casement : but it escaped the 
 notice of both the young ladies. 
 
 " It is of your brother Giulio," continued Agnet, 
 
 " that I am compelled to speak " 
 
 " Compelled to speak ?" ejaculated Corinna, who 
 while thus catching at the words, fancied she had 
 caught their meaning likewise. " Then he has 
 been doing something wrong ? Ob, unhappy 
 Giulio !" 
 
 " No, Corinna," interrupted Agnes, speaking 
 very seriously, "you must not thus accuse your 
 poor brother, who did nothing wrong — at least I 
 
 Srmly believe not " 
 
 "Ob, thanks, thanks for this assurance!" ejacu- 
 lated the maiden. "Then Giulio has met with 
 some calamity— some misfortune arising from no 
 
 fault of his own " 
 
 " My dear girl," interrupted Agnes, laying her 
 hand ujKJi Corinna's shoulder and ge-zing tenderly 
 and 6xe%Jly upon her countenance, "your brother 
 Giulio IS beyond the sphere of this world's tempta- 
 tion, as weU as beyond the reach ot the earth's 
 calamity !" 
 
 "Ah, dead! dead!" moaned Corinna, sinking 
 upon a chair and giving way to her grief. 
 
 For some minutes she wept, and then wiping 
 her eyes, she rose from her seat, saying, " Perhaps, 
 dear Miss Evelyn, it is all for the best —and heaven, 
 taking pity upon bis youth, his blighted prospects, 
 and perhaps his vain struggling to carve out for 
 himself a career in the world, has received him to 
 another sphere ! That letter is doubless from my 
 father ? Djes he give any particulars?" 
 
 " Yes — take the letter, my poor Corinna," 
 responded Agnes, " and read it. But prepare 
 
 yourself " 
 
 She stopped short; and instead of suffering 
 Corinna to take the letter, she held it back. 
 
 My dear friend," she continued, her voice 
 ibling with emotion, " I ought to prepare you 
 somewhat more fully for the terrible revealings 
 encounter in this epistle. Sum- 
 mon to your aid, dear Corinna, all Coristiau forti- 
 tude and resignation : for alas ! a terrible crime 
 was committed in Florence it occurred up- 
 wards of eight months ago nerve yourjelf, 
 
 lorinna! nerve yourself, my sweet friend, I coo- 
 
 ire you ! It was the crime of murder which 
 
 r&B committed murder " 
 
 " Murder !" repeated the damsel, a cold shudder 
 isibly thrilling through her entire form, while ahe 
 clasped her hands and her countenance expressed a 
 mingling horror and dismay. 
 
 "Alas, it is so !" responded Agnes: "amurdat 
 most foul — most horrible ! And it was thus that 
 your poor brother Giulio met his death !" 
 
 "Alas, my poor brother! to think that yoi 
 should perish thus !" moaned Corinua. " Oh, 
 what a frightful discovery for my poor father to 
 
 my make! Just heavens! I feel as if my brain
 
 AGNES; OS, BEA'JTT AND PLEASUKE. 
 
 (arningf . Bdt Du ' I will be calm — I will summon 
 to my aid ibac Oonaiian foriicude and resignation 
 whereof you have spoken ! That letter doubtless 
 contains particulars '* 
 
 " The letter is brief," responded Agnes. " Tour 
 poor father, terribly excited, could pen but some 
 dojen lines,— he gives no details, — he only records 
 the salient fads, which are sad and terrible 
 enough! Here, my poor Corinna — there is now 
 no reason why I should any longer withhold the 
 letter from you ! Take it — read its contents— and 
 again I say, nerve yourself !" 
 
 " I am nerved and resigned !" answered Co. 
 rinna, sadly and meekly. "Reared in the Catholic 
 faith, I was taught by a beloved mother to submit 
 with all humility to the dispensations of Provi- 
 dence. It is thus that I now submit! But 
 tell me, my dear friend, has my father dis- 
 -•overed who was the perpetrator of the horrible 
 No. 50. — AosEi, 
 
 crime which has deprived him of an affectionate 
 son and me of a loving brother P" 
 
 "Your father simply writes the name of the 
 assassin," rejoined Agnes. " He gives no reason 
 for the crime— he enters into no details— he sayi 
 that he is half distracted at the time he writei 
 — but by the next post he will send fuller par- 
 ticulars. Here— take the letter, Corinna." 
 
 " And the name which my father mentions 
 therein ?" said the young girl : " what is the name 
 of my brother's murderer ?" 
 
 And Agnes gave the answer, and she spoke 
 the name,— saying, " The murderer of your bro- 
 ther, my poor Corinna, was a wretch called Edgar 
 JIarcellin!" 
 
 "'Tis false! 'tis false as hell!" vociferated the 
 young Frenchman, as he rushed into the room; 
 but at the same moment that those words rang 
 forth from hia lips, 9 pealing shriek vibrated from
 
 02, BEAUTT AKP PLEASOBH. 
 
 the toDguo o( Corir 
 less upon the floor. 
 
 I Paoli— and she sank sense- 
 
 CHAPTEK LXXT. 
 
 JOSEPHINE AND CICELY. 
 
 Wk are now about to transfer the attention of the 
 reader to the villa inhabited hy the Hon, Mr. and 
 Jlrs. Hardress at Bayswater. It was about the 
 same date as that of which we hare just been 
 wiiting — namelv, the middle of October— and it 
 was between four and live o'clock in the after- 
 noon, that we shall find Cicely in her elegantly 
 •urnished bed-room. The chambef was appointed 
 with the most exquisite taste ; the atmosphere 
 was warm and perfumed. Numerous bottles of 
 the rarest scents and choicest perfumes might be 
 seen upon the toilet-table,— near which there 
 stood a full-length mirror, or psyche, in which the 
 fair mistress of the place might survey her entire 
 form at pleasure. 
 
 Cici-ly was not now alone there; another young 
 lady was present; and in order to avoid any un- 
 necessary mystery, we may as well at once observe 
 that this young lady was the Hon. Josephine 
 Hardress. In a former chapter wo have described 
 her as being of fair compleiion, with glossy 
 auburn hair, and large blue eyes full of a soft pen- 
 siveness. She was tall and well formed : her age 
 was close upon two-and-twenty; for about ten 
 months had now elapsed since we found her taking 
 refuge at Mowbray Villa, in the neighbourhood 
 of Hastings, in order to conceal the shamo of one 
 who was about to become a mother without being 
 a wife. 
 
 But let us continue our narrative. Josephine 
 Hardress was now disapparelling herself in her 
 eister-in. law's chamber at the house at Bayswater ; 
 and Cicely was taking from a box certain articles 
 of raiment which she was spreading out upon the 
 bed. But these articles of raiment all belonged to 
 a masculine costume ! What could either of these 
 ladies have to do with the apparel of a gentleman ? 
 "We shall soon see. Josephine Hardress presently 
 finished the process of laying aside the costume 
 which properly became her sex; and then, with 
 Cicely's assistance, she began to clothe herself in 
 the masculine vesture which had been produced 
 Irom the box. There was some little mirth and 
 raillery on the part of the two young ladies es the 
 process went on : but there was a certain sternness 
 and resoluteness of purpose in the looks of both, 
 as if it were no masquerading pleasantry which was 
 in contemplation, but as if the assumption of that 
 male costume by the Hon. Josephine Hardress 
 were connected with some purpose of real sterling 
 importance. 
 
 Josephine, being tall for a woman, appeared 
 when dressed in male costume to be a young gen- 
 tleman somewhat under the medium stature. That 
 costume fitted her most admirably ; and by degrees, 
 as she put on garment after garment, by the 
 •uccour of her sister-in.Iaw Cicely, she evidently 
 •trove to adopt a more dashing, feai.dess, and oif- 
 band demeanour than that which was naturally her 
 
 " And now let us gather up this beautiful hair 
 
 of yours, Josephine," said Cicely ; " and then yon 
 shall put on this hat, and it will complete your 
 attire. There !— now you are indeed perfect ! Ah! 
 and how interesting !" ejaculated Cicely, with looks 
 of admiration. 
 
 " And yet I feel to a certain extent awkward 
 and embarrassed," said Josephine, " notwithstand- 
 ing all my endeavours to adopt as manly a de- 
 meanour as possible." 
 
 " Oh, but you must succeed in throwing oBT that 
 embarrossment !" cried Cicely. " EecoUect, you 
 have undertaken to play a particular part— and 
 you must perform it ! Nothing but a bold, cou- 
 rageous, and indeed desperate demeanour will 
 strike terror into the heart of the cowardly fel- 
 low !" 
 
 " Ah ! now that your words so vividly remind 
 me of all my wrongs," exciaimed Josephine, the 
 colour mantling with the crimson glow of indigna- 
 tion upon her cheeks, " I feel that I am capable of 
 any proof of courage and daring that may be re- 
 quired of me ! Here I give me a pistol, my dear 
 Cicely !" 
 
 The Hon. Mrs. Hardress lost not a moment in 
 complying with the desire of her sister-in-law, to 
 whom she handed a small rifle-pistol of most ex- 
 quisito workmanship, — she herself retaining its 
 companion. 
 
 " Take care, Josephine," she said ; " the pistols 
 are always kept loaded." 
 
 "Ah! why so?" exclaimed the young lady in 
 male attire, as a pallor flitted across her counte- 
 
 : she i 
 
 had 
 
 rather have nothing to do with the weapon. 
 
 "Oh, because Hector keeps them loaded for 
 security's sake," replied Mrs. Hardress. "There 
 have lately been some very daring burglaries 
 in this neighbourhood But surely, Jose- 
 
 "No, no — I am not afraid!" ejaculated the 
 young lady. " It was only a passing reluctance to 
 
 hold the weapon but I am already accustomed 
 
 to it— and I can even play with it " 
 
 " At all events, my dear Josephine," said Cicely, 
 quietly, "keep the muzzlo turned in the other 
 direction; for you have just been pointing it most 
 disagreeably towards myself." 
 
 " Good heavens ! if it had gone ' off !" cried 
 Josephine, now again becoming very pale. 
 
 " Then I should have been stretched dead at 
 your feet," was Cicely's reply, still given in a tone 
 of calm quiet courage. " But do not be agitated 
 and nervous— assert all the powers of your mind — 
 be resolved — be determined— say to yourself that 
 you will be hold and at the same time collected— 
 and you know not how easy it will become to ao- 
 complish that which you are bent on doing !" 
 
 " Ah 1 if I were only like you. Cicely !" ex- 
 claimed Josephine, gazing upon her sister-in-law 
 with a look of envy mingled with admiration and 
 friendship. " But yet I feel that I am gathering 
 courage, fortitude, and self-possession irom your 
 example. Now see ! do I not at present hold the 
 pistol in a becoming manner ? In a few minutes 
 X shoU be quite expert ; and you will fancy that I 
 have been taking lessons in a shooting-gallery. 
 Yes, truly — I feel every minute more and more at 
 home in this costume ! I really think. Cicely, it 
 has its advantages over that which belongs to uur 
 unn sex."
 
 AGUES ; OH, BE ADIT . 
 
 TLEASUnE. 
 
 395 
 
 " Ah ! at that moment," pjaculated Cicely, with 
 a peal of merrj laughter, "jou were indeed admi- 
 rable ! Tou had precisely the graceful, negligent, 
 lounging air of a young fashionable !*' 
 
 " And what do you think of this f" asked Jose- 
 phine, laying down her pistol, folding her arms 
 across her bosom, and leaning them upon the back 
 of a chair, while she looked up with arch serious- 
 ness into Cicely's countenance. " Is this indicative 
 of self-possession ?" 
 
 " The attitude is inimitable," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Hardrcss, still laughing merrily with delight. 
 "Really, my dear Josephine, if it were not that the 
 contours of the bust are someirhat too richly de- 
 veloped, you might pass yourself off as a very 
 pretty young gentleman — a trifle effeminate of 
 course, and with a face so remarkably smooth that 
 it would appear as if the growth of a beard were 
 impossible. Ah! I should like to see the attitude 
 you would take, if imitating some exquisite when 
 smoking a cigar." 
 
 " If we had a cigar here," responded Josephine, 
 " I would very soon gratify you on the point. 1 
 feel that I am becoming quite manly ; and as for 
 courage, rest assured, my dear Cicely, all your kind 
 advice and aid shall not have been thrown away— 
 but the purpose which we have in view," she 
 r.dded, her countenance becoming serious and al- 
 most severe, "shall be accomplished!" 
 
 " 1 am delighted to hear you speak in a tone so 
 confident," observed Cicely. " Indeed, my dear 
 Jasephine, when the moment for action comes, you 
 must say to yourself " 
 
 " I will say to myself that I am about to deal 
 with a villain !" she exclaimed, energetically, at 
 the same time stamping on the carpet with her 
 foot which was imprisoned in an exquisite patent 
 leather boot ; " and rest assured. Cicely, that I can 
 deal most remorselessly with him. But tell me, 
 why are you yourself so bitter " 
 
 " Bitter, my dear Joscpliino ?" interjected Cicely : 
 " that is not the word, because I personally know 
 
 so little of the Hon. Theodore Clifford indeed, 
 
 I never saw bim until he called after having been 
 referred by you to me " 
 
 '* Yet if you be not bitter against him," said 
 Josephine, "you at least have a very strong feel- 
 ing " 
 
 "Am I not taking your part?" exclaimed 
 Cicely ; " and to take your part naturally inspires 
 me with all the enthusiastic feelings of a partisan. 
 Besides, this Theodore Clifl'ord is indeed a most 
 accomplished villain " 
 
 "Xes — a villain such as there exist but few in 
 this world !" interjected Josephine with passionate 
 vehemence. " To sufler me to learn that after all 
 he had never seriously thought of marrying me!" 
 
 "And at the very time when you were suffering 
 60 deeply on bis account," ejaculated Cicely, " he 
 was .'Isewhere perlormiog the part of a vile 
 seducer! — he was then beguiling Floribel Lister, 
 even perhaps more cruelly than he beguiled you, 
 Josej-liine, because he drugged her ! She confessed 
 all the truth to h^r cousin Agnes Evelyn; and 
 Agnos one day revcoled the particulars to me." 
 
 "Yep, Theodore Clilford is a villain in every 
 sense!" exclaimed Josephine; "and the conduct 
 which he is now pursuing stamps him almost with 
 tho ulackness of a fiend! The wretch! to endea- 
 vour to replenish his empty purse by means bo 
 
 vile ! Ah, I wish that I were indeed a man ; for 
 then with this arm of mine would I bestow upon 
 him such chastisement as only a masculine hand 
 can inflict!" 
 
 "Bravo, Josephine!" exclaimed Cicely; "say 
 everything to sustain your courage! think* of 
 everything to inspire you with additional forti- 
 tude ! lash yourself up into a rage !" 
 
 " By heavens. Cicely ! it requires but little to 
 do that !" answered Josephine Hardress, her 
 cheeks now burning with indignation, and her 
 usually soft eyes shining with a fire brighter and 
 more fierce than had ever beamed in those orbs 
 before. "You know. Cicely, that naturally I am 
 meek and mild— perhaps I have been called amiable 
 
 but Ah! I can assure you that there have 
 
 been moments when it has appeared as if a 
 veritable fiend were existing within mo! And 
 this is one of those moments '." 
 
 " Well, my dear Josephine, you will soon havo 
 an opportunity of punishing that villain. It ia 
 now close upon five o'clock — and at about that 
 hour he is to be here. We do not dine until six; 
 and thus by the time dinner is served up, we shall 
 have accomplished all the task that we have set 
 ourselves, and we shall have had leisure to com- 
 pose our feelings and sufler our excitement to cool 
 down." 
 
 " And what if Hector were to return unex- 
 pectedly ?" exclaimed Josephine : " what would he 
 think, — he who is altogether ignorant of bis sis- 
 ter's sad secret ! he who loves me so well, and has 
 never for a moment suspected that my honour bad 
 ever been tarnished!" 
 
 " Do not be afraid, Josephine," responded 
 Cicely. " Hector has accepted an engagement to 
 dine at his club— and I know that he will not fail 
 to keep it. It was for that reason I selected this 
 particular evening for the bnsiaess which wo have 
 in hand." 
 
 " Ah, my dear Cicely," said Josephine, " how 
 deep a debt of gratitude do I owe you ! But ever 
 since you began by treating me so cruelly and un- 
 kindly, you have behaved towards me with so much 
 goodness and generosity ! And yet you never 
 rightly explained why you played me so strange a 
 trick,— why under the name of Mrs. Hanbury you 
 first of all enticed me down to Mowbray Villa near 
 Hastings — and why after four or five days of most 
 affectionate demeanour towards me, you sped up 
 to Lundjn and told my parents everything !" 
 
 " But you will also admit, my dear Josephine," 
 responded Cicely, " that when after that visit to 
 Loudon I returned to Mowbray Villa near Hast- 
 ings, and frankly confessed to you that I was not 
 Mrs. Hanbury, but that I was Mrs. Hardress, 
 your brother's wife,— you will admit, Josephine, I 
 say, that when once I had avowed all this and 
 that you had recovered from the shock, my be- 
 haviour towards you " 
 
 " Was that of a veritable sister !" exclaimed 
 Josephine, in accents of enthusiasm. "Ob, yes, 
 dearest Cicely ! never, never can I forget hoiv 
 duiiog the fearful hours of trial and trouble, you 
 ministered unto me— you were day and night at 
 my bedside — you seemed to sustain me when 1 
 felt as if I were actually drooping and .sinking out of 
 existence! And then, too, with what caution and 
 carefulness did you manage eTetything, dear 
 Cicely — even to the disposal of tlie poor batw
 
 396 AGSIiS ; OE, BEAU 
 
 which perished within the first hour of its 
 birth!" 
 
 " Ah ! then, you see, Josephine/* interrupted 
 Cicely, " that if I appeared at one moment to per- 
 focpi the most monstrous nnd wanton act ot 
 cruelty towards you, by inveigling you as it were 
 into my power at Mowbray Villa, and then hasten- 
 ing up to London to commumcale to your parents 
 the secret of your dishonour,— if, I say, I acted 
 with this unaccountable treachery and brutality 
 towards you, yet on the other hand I treated you 
 with all the kindness which a sister might show 
 unto a sister !" 
 
 "True!" ejaculated Josephine; "and the sense 
 of the good you did me, was therefore stronger 
 than that of the evil which you wrought me. 
 Yes, Cicely — it was because your attentions were 
 so unremitting and so sincere— and because to 
 those attentions I owed my very life — that I 
 resolved to banish the recollection of the injury 
 you had done me ! And therefore ever since, 
 Cicely, we have been as friends and as sisters : — you 
 have been my confidant— and now you are assist. 
 ing me to frustrate and punish the designs of a 
 villain !" 
 
 " And would you have mo tell you," asked 
 Cicely, " why it was that I treated you in a man- 
 ner that must have indeed been so unaccountably 
 treacherous and cruel to all appearance? We 
 have not for a long time touched upon the topic 
 
 methought it was dropped for ever; but 
 
 since it now happens to be revived, I have no ob- 
 jection to clear up the mystery. Yet tell me, 
 Josephine — did the motive never strike you— did 
 you never form the slightest conjecture, the 
 faintest suspicion " 
 
 " Yes, Cicely," answered the young lady, " there 
 were vague ideas flitting though my mind at the 
 time, that you had used the knowledge of my sad 
 secret to disarm the resentment of my parents on 
 
 account of your marriage with Hector aye, 
 
 and even to make them recognise you — visit you 
 —receive you at their own dwelling " 
 
 " And why did you hesitate, my dear Josephine," 
 asked Cicely, " to come to the conclusion that these 
 conjectures on your part were all accurate and cor- 
 
 " Shall I tell you, Cicely f" asked the young 
 lady, fixing her eyes earnestly upon her sister-in- 
 law. "It was because I fancied that you were of 
 too independent a disposition— too haughty and 
 imperious — by nature too proud and dignified — 
 too deeply imbued with a sense of respect for 
 yourself, to stoop to such means " 
 
 " And now I must tell you, after all, Josephine, 
 that you were entirely wrong," interrupted Cicely; 
 "for I will even confess that I am capable ot any 
 policy, no matter how mean and treacherous — no 
 matter how bold and desperate— in order to carry 
 out whatsoever aims I may have in view ! Y^es, 
 Josephine — your conjectures were right ! — but be- 
 lieve me, my dear girl, it was not without a pang 
 of remorse that I made use of your sad secret as 
 a means of compelling your father and mother to 
 acknowledge me as their daughter-in-law. It was 
 agreed between us that the whole matter should 
 be wrapped up in as much mystery as possible— so 
 that you were not to be formally and circum- 
 stantially told how I had been swayed by such 
 Hellish motives when betraying your secret ; while 
 
 ! AND TLEASURE. 
 
 it was also agreed that this secret of your's should 
 be religiously maintained from the knowledge of 
 your brother Hector." 
 
 " And Hector never ha> suspected it P" eaid 
 Josephine inquiringly. 
 
 " Never !" responded Cicely. " Of this I can 
 assure you !— for even if as a wife I might not be 
 admitted fully into his confidence, yet believe me 
 that as a woman of tne world I could speedily 
 fathom the innermost thoughts of his soul !" 
 
 " This seems to be an afternoon of explana- 
 tions," observed Josephine, " as well as of strange 
 and important proceedings:" — and she glanced 
 over her male attire as she thus spoke. " Answer 
 
 me one more question, my dear Cicely " 
 
 " Are you sure that by enlightening you on so 
 many points concerning which you were hitherto 
 kept plunged in mystery and ignorance, I am not 
 at the same time revealing such dark portions of 
 my own nature as will turn into aversion the love 
 which you may at present feel for me as your 
 sister-in-law ?" 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated Josephine, with some degree 
 of bitterness ; "you must not think that I am now 
 so nice, so fastidious, and so particular as I used to 
 be ! In the first place it may be very well sup- 
 posed that a young lady who has been seduced and 
 has in secret become the mother of a child, must 
 have bad her experiences more or less enlarged in 
 respect to the world and its ways. And such is 
 the case with me. Besides, what am I doing at 
 this present instant ? Am I not forgetting all 
 the decencies of my sex by assuming this mala 
 
 garb " 
 
 " Enough, my dear Josephine !— enough !" in- 
 terrupted Cicely ; " or you will disgust yourself 
 with the proceeding you have entered upon, and 
 of which you were ere now inclined even to be 
 proud !" 
 
 " And so I still am!" replied Josephine. " Look, 
 my dear Cicely ! Does my hand now tremble as 
 I take up this pistol ?— do I look like a novice in 
 the handling of it ? — and do you feel as if there 
 were any awkwardness on my part which might 
 place you in bodily fear as just now you were? 
 Pshaw ! — I have already the spirit of a man I— and 
 if the villain, when he comes, do not accede to the 
 demand which is to be made upon him, I swear to 
 you. Cicely, that without pity and without re- 
 morse " 
 
 " Hush, my dear friend 1" interrupted Mrs. 
 Hardress ; " we do not want murder's work to be 
 done beneath this roof ! Display as bold a front 
 and as strong a heroism as you are now showing 
 —and it will be suflicient ! He will be overawed 
 — he will crouch at your feet— and the game will 
 be all in your own hands !" ' 
 
 " And so I mean it to be !" ejaculated Jose- 
 phine, whose manner for the last few minutes bad 
 been displaying a vivacious hardihood and a wild 
 recklessness which were something more than tho 
 mere harum-scarum exuberations of a young girl, 
 but which rather resembled the devil-may-care 
 boldness ot a young man. " Yes, yes, Cicely !" 
 she continued ; " if success depend upon me, it 
 shall be realized ! But ought he not to be here 
 by this time?" 
 
 " It is only just five," responded Mrs. Hardress ; 
 " and I told him to bo here about that hour. Are 
 you afraid, Josephine, that if bis presence be do-
 
 i ; OE, BBADTT AND PLEASUEB. 
 
 397 
 
 lajed, a reaction will take place in your feelings 
 —your courage will OTaporate " 
 
 " Cicely, this jesting on your part is too bad !" 
 cried Josephine, laughing : then turning towards 
 the psyche, she surveyed herself with considerable 
 satisfaction, while tutoring the countenance, which 
 was naturally so soft and interesting in its beauty, 
 to put on the severest and sternest expression. 
 " No ! no ! my courage will not ooze out ! Ah, 
 this is fortunate ! Here is Hector's cigar-case 
 lying on this side table ! And is there not some- 
 thing very manly, my dear Cicely, in smoking a 
 cigar ?" 
 
 Cicely could not help laughing at the »aivet6 
 and ingenuousness which were thus blending nith 
 the study and desire on the part of her friend to 
 maintain as fierce and dauntless a demeanour as 
 possible ; and she said, " By all means take a 
 cigar, Josephine — it you do not think the tobacco 
 •moke will make you sick " 
 
 " It will be useless for me to study to become 
 as manly as possible for the nonce," said Josephine, 
 " if you by your raillery and banter keep con- 
 stantly reminding me of the weaknesses ot my 
 real sex. But look. Cicely !" 
 
 Thus speaking, Josephine took a cigar from the 
 case — lighted it, and placed it between her beai 
 tiful red lips. A wreath of fleecy vapour curled 
 upward from those lips ; and Cicely, who had 
 vein of mischief in her mirthfulness, exclaimed 
 laughing, " I really thought to see you suck in the 
 smoke instead of puffing it outtrards : and if such 
 had been the case " 
 
 " I should now be eick and ill," added Jose. 
 phine ; " and the villain Theodore Clifford might 
 perhaps have yet bad the laugh against me. You 
 do not know, Cicely, with what a spirit I am 
 imbued at the present moment ! But, Ah ! I re- 
 collect, I was going to ask you a certain question 
 just now, when the discourse flowed into other 
 channels." 
 
 " Yes— I recollect also," said Cicely. " We were 
 speaking of those incidents which occurred some 
 ten months back, and which first rendered us ac- 
 quainted." 
 
 " I was about to ask you, my dear Cicely," re- 
 sumed Josephine, " how it was that you first be- 
 came acquainted with my secret, so that you were 
 enabled to devise the scheme of enticing me to 
 Mowbray Villa ? Was it direct from the lipe of 
 my maid Selina that you heard the tale ? or " 
 
 " Or what ?" asked Oicely. " I see that you 
 have another conjecture ?" 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Josephine : " I was about to 
 say that perhaps Selina might have betrayed the 
 secret in the first instance to Luke Corbet ?" 
 
 " It was so," interrupted Cicely ; " and it was in 
 reward for Selina's treachery towards you, that 
 she and Luke Corbet received from my hand a 
 sufficient sum to enable them to marry and set up 
 in business. 1 have now told you everything, my 
 dear Josephine, with frankness ; and I am not 
 sorry that the occasion should have arisen to 
 enable me to clear up those little mysteries which 
 I it was indeed useless to maintain. But in refer- 
 ence to the Corbets your secret is safe." 
 
 At this moment Cicely's coofidential maid en- 
 tered the bed-chamber, saying in a low voice and 
 with a significant look, " He is here." 
 
 Cicely made a sign to the abigail, which she 
 
 evidently at once understood ; for she withdrew 
 with the air of one who was ready to perform a 
 duty of which she bad been previously made 
 aware. But at the same moment Josephine Hard- 
 ress, taking a pistol in her band, passed behind 
 the curtains of the bed ; while Cicely deposited 
 the other pistol on a piece of furniture near the 
 door. Cicely then issued from the chamber— but 
 leaving that door more than three pacts open be- 
 hind her. 
 
 The adjoining room was Cicely's boudoir, if we 
 may borrow the French term for that which was 
 really an exquisitely-furnished little parlour com- 
 municating with the bed-chamber. Tapers were 
 burning upon the mantel — a lamp stood upon the 
 table in the centre of the room ; and Cicely flung 
 a glance into the mirror to assure herself that her 
 looks were sufficiently composed for the part which 
 she bad to perform, and that her toilet was of an 
 elegance sufficient to give a species of coquettish 
 support to the winning and seductive mien which 
 she was now all in a moment adopting. 
 
 Scarcely were her eyes withdrawn from that 
 mirror, with the full conviction in her mind that 
 she had never in her life looked better, when the 
 door was noiselessly opened, and Theodore Clifl'ord 
 was ushered into the room by the abigail, who 
 immediately disappeared. He bowed with a kind 
 of familiar courtesy ; and then he riveted his eyes 
 upon the lady who awaited him there. Smiles 
 were upon her countenance, blended with a certain 
 look which seemed to be that of a softly sensuous 
 confusion ; and as Clifford's eyes slowly wandered 
 over the richly-developed contours which the cos- 
 tume so completely delineated, it was soon with 
 devouring regards that he gazed upon the fine 
 person of Cicely. 
 
 " Be seated, Mr. Clifford," she said, placing her. 
 self upon a sofa, with a sort of balf-air as if she 
 left bim to choose a seat for himself, but yet with 
 a sort of half-invitatioQ for him to sit down by 
 her side. 
 
 And this he did, — still bending upon her glances 
 that were full of passion, and which seemed to be 
 in voluptuous response to the semi-overtures that 
 were made by herself. 
 
 " And now, Mr. Clifford," she said, in a soft 
 tone, and yet with a sufficient degree of serious, 
 ness to inspire the belief that business-matters 
 were to be entered on first, whatsoever the next 
 topic of discourse might be, — "let us begin by 
 settling the subject which induced you to favour 
 me with a visit the day before yesterday, and then 
 again yesterday." 
 
 " Ah, Mrs. Hardress," he replied, with a look of 
 languishing meaning, " I would almost rather that 
 I might be permitted at once to explain the hopes 
 with which I have been inspired " 
 
 ' Let that topic follow,' 
 
 . with 1 
 
 winmng 
 
 smile, as for . a moment she laid her white hand 
 upon his arm in that pretty way which a woman 
 has of enforcing her will by a gesture and a touch. 
 " Come, Mr. Clifford, let us in the first instance 
 speak seriously and in a matter-of-fact strain. 
 Look upon me therefore at the beginning only as 
 
 what shall I call myself? — the friend to whom 
 
 Josephine has referred you for the purpose of ar- 
 
 rating between you both in a matter of some 
 
 little difficulty and delicacy. Ah ! and I ought to 
 
 add that I am fully prepared to settle this matter;
 
 398 
 
 tOKES; on, DEACTT AHD PLEA8CEB 
 
 for 08 I on mj own aide have a pockot-bouk full 
 of baDk-notes here, you on your side will bavo the 
 kindness to tell mo whetber you bavo brought all 
 the correspondence to which allusions have be.-n 
 made at previous interviews?" 
 
 As she thus spoke, the Hon. Mrs. Hnrdress 
 placed a pocket-book on the table ; and Theodore 
 Cliffoid at the same lime produced a small packet 
 of letlers : but having shown them, he returned 
 them into bis pocket, saying, " I can assure you 
 that every letter which I ever received from Jose- 
 phine is here." 
 
 Cicely bit her lip for a moment at the almost 
 insulting want of confidence which was displayed 
 by this young man, who even at the very instant 
 when he was presumptuously aspiring to the 
 favours of the lady, nevertheless exhibited his own 
 utter sellisbnees by the fact that he would not part 
 from the letters, nor even risk the chance of their 
 being snatched up, until the bargain for their re- 
 demption should be fully concluded. 
 
 " And now," said Cicely, instantaneously re- 
 covering the mingled seriousness and urbanity 
 which she had iust before assumed, " let us enter 
 thoroughly into the subject which wo must first 
 discuss. I believe, Mr. Clifford, you infurmed me 
 that your unturtunate ojisunderstandings with 
 your father lord Windermere have placed you in 
 ■uch a position as to compel you to do something 
 
 which is very repugnant to your feelings " 
 
 " Yes, most repugnant," he exclaimed. " My 
 father refuses to see me — he has completely cut off 
 my allowance— and the sorry trifle of a few hun- 
 dreds a-year which I can call my own, is my sole 
 present source of income. But, Ob, Mrs. Hardress ! 
 
 will you not hate and loathe me " 
 
 "Assuredly not!" answered Cicely, with an air 
 of surprise : " wherefore should IP It is a mere 
 business-transaction ;— and between you and me, I 
 I have no real love for Josephine, although she is 
 Tcry far from knowing how little favourable are 
 my sentiments towards her — otherwise she would 
 ' not have chosen me as the arbitratrix in this 
 matter. Thereloro I beg you to proceed in all con. 
 fidence; and nothing that now takes place between 
 us can possibly prejudice you in my estimation." 
 
 "Ah, this assurance is most kind!" exclaimed 
 Tbeodore. "'Well then, Mrs. Hardiess, you make 
 allowances for my position ?" 
 
 " You shall see that I do," responded Cicely. 
 
 "But let us at once enter in a business.like way 
 
 ! upon the negotiation which we have in hand. Ton 
 
 j possess those letters, written to you by Josephine, 
 
 I and which contain the secret of your loves as well 
 
 j as of her degradation and disgrace. These letters 
 
 1 you have thought it expedient to restore into her 
 
 possession ; but as you yourself are poor, and you 
 
 , know that she has the command of money, you 
 
 have thought that if the letters were worth having 
 
 they were worth purchasing. Is it not so ?" 
 
 " It is," replied Theodore ; " and Josephine, 
 much distressed as well as alarmed at the applica- 
 tion — perhaps even indignant — referred me to 
 jou as one who being acquainted with her secret, 
 could best arbitrate in the matter and settle it." 
 
 " This is exactly as I understand the matter," 
 responded Cicely. "Well tben, Mr. Clifibrd, it 
 only remains for us to settle Ibo amount which is 
 to be paid on Jo.sepbino's behalf for the surrender 
 of her letters. I believe you asked two thousand 
 
 guineas : Josephine hinted to me her opinion that 
 a thousand would be an adequate sum : but arbi- 
 traiing as I am between you, I think that I might 
 fairly decree a division of the difference and sug* 
 gest that fifteen hundred would be a fair amount 
 fur her to give and you to receive." 
 
 "And I at once consent," rejoined Clifford, 
 chuckling at the idea of being thus enabled to 
 replenish his almost empty purse. 
 
 " Good !" said Cicely : " that matter ehall be 
 presently arranged. But how am 1 to know that 
 the packet which you are about to band over to 
 me, contains all the letters you may have at 
 any time received from Josephine ? — for though, 
 as I have already said, I have little love for that 
 young lady, and little sympathy in her misfor- 
 tunes, still it is my desire to act fairly towards her, 
 so that she shall not hereafter discover any ground 
 for accusing me of having negligently sacrificed or 
 wilfully betrayed her interests." 
 
 " I can only pledge my most solemn sacred word 
 of honour," replied Tbeodore Clifford, " that I on 
 my part am acting fairly, and that every letter re- 
 ceived from Josephine is included in this packet. 
 If there be any means by which I can give an ad- 
 ditional proof of my good faith " 
 
 "Yes— there is a means," interrupted Cicely. 
 "There are writing materials. Take jour plaoo 
 at that table, and pen me a letter to this effect, 
 — that whatsoever calumny or scandal may have 
 whispered in reference to yourself and the Ho- 
 nourable Josephine Hardress, is utterly false. Ah I 
 you can write the letter as if it were in reply 
 to one received from me, and in which I, aa 
 Josephine's sister-in-law, deemed it my duty on 
 hearing of those whispered scandals to address you 
 on the point and demand an explanation. Be- 
 lieve me, Mr. Clifford," added Cicely, in her most 
 winning tones and with her most voluptuoua 
 looks, " that the more completely you thus vindi- 
 cate and clear up Josephine's character, in case 
 anything should hereafter be said in reference 
 thereto, the higher will bo the opinion I myself 
 shall entertain of you; and— and "—here Cicely 
 threw into her voice the tremulousness of a soft 
 confusion — " the more readily shall I be inclined 
 
 "Say not another word!" ejaculated Clifford, 
 rejoiced at the prospect of obtaining not merely a 
 considerable sum of money, but likewise the 
 favours of the lady by whose side he sat. "Y'ou 
 shall seo what I will write ; and I feel convinced 
 you will be satisfied !" 
 
 He accordingly placed himself at the table, and 
 he began to pen a letter in the strain which Cicely 
 bad already dictated. He bad really withheld 
 none of Josephine's letters— not because any 
 sense of honourable feeling remained to him, even 
 in the midst of the performance of a rascally deed 
 —but simply because so refined a piece of villany 
 had never occurred to him as that of keeping back 
 one or two of the letters to be similarly used for 
 a future purpose of extortion. Thus as he wm 
 already prepared to surrender the whole corre- 
 spondence, and thereby settle the matter at onje 
 and for ever, he had no hesitation in writing pre> 
 cisely such a letter as Cicely had suggested. On i li» 
 contrary, he had an additional motive for so doin;;, 
 on account of the hiat which she had thrown (l^t 
 that such conduct would proTo the surest pasa-
 
 iONES; 
 
 BEACTY ASD PLEASUItB. 
 
 port to her favour. The letter was accordingly 
 penned : Cicely read it— she was completely satia- 
 tied— and she suffered it to remain upon the table, 
 whence Theodore himself did not dare remove it. 
 
 " And now," she said, all at once assuming a 
 niost winning look, " tell me what you ventured 
 
 to hope repeat to me the language which you 
 
 yesterday addressed to my oars •" 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed Theodore, who for a moment 
 was disappointed that the pecuniary matter was 
 not first settled before this now topic was entered 
 upon — though the next instant he thought that 
 it would be indelicate and indiscreet to make the i 
 slightest allusion to that point, — " was it possible j 
 for me to remain unmoved in your presence " 
 
 " Ab, Mr. Clifford !" said Cicely, with that | 
 sppcies of hesitation which seemed to imply that j 
 he had only to prosecute his addresses boldly and i 
 ferveutly in order to win ber; "but how can I 
 place conliiience in you, even if io the weakness 
 of my own heart I were to forget my duty towards 
 my husband ?" i 
 
 "Did I over betray Josephine's secret?" asked 
 Theodore passionately. "No, no! — and if now 
 that everything has long been at an end between 
 her and me, I have availed myself of the power 
 which circumstances gave me over her " 
 
 "To that subject," Cicely interrupted him, "we 
 will not again allude. It is your business, and 
 cot mine: and I repeat, it has not altered you in 
 
 my estimation Oa the contrary, the generous 
 
 readiness with which you penned that letter ought 
 after all to inspire me with the fullest confi- 
 
 " Oh, let it be bo, beautiful Cicely !" ejaculated 
 Theodore, seizing her band and pressing it to his 
 lips. 
 
 "But, Oh! reaect, Mr. Clifford," she said, 
 slowly and as if hesitatingly withdrawing that 
 hand ; " you would render me false and faithless to 
 my husband ; and if he were to discover -" 
 
 "Ab, dearest Cicely!" interrupted Clifford, 
 " have you not already gone very, very fur with 
 me? — did not your looks yesterday bid me hope ? 
 Yes! — and even your words, when you bade mo 
 come to you under circumstances of such privacy 
 this evening! Are you not already compromised 
 with your maid in respect to the manner in which 
 I have been introduced hither ? — and must you 
 not have every reason to rely upon her iiJelity 
 when you resolve to trust her thus far ? Who, 
 then, can betray the secret ? Ob, render me happy. 
 Cicely ! 1 know— I feel that I cannot bo altogether 
 indifferent to you !" 
 
 Cicely appeared to be hesitating and yielding. 
 Theodore again took her hand — aijain pressed it to 
 his lips : and then she whispered in his ear, " You 
 will be the cause of my undoing : but, Oh ! it is 
 impossible to resist you!" 
 
 From the spot where this colloquy took place, 
 Cliliord'a eyes could plunge into the bed-chamber, 
 the door of which stood three parts open ; and 
 lights were buruing there. Cicely made a gesture 
 as if bidding him proceed thither, and she would 
 follow. Full of rapture — forgetting also the letter 
 which lay upon the table — Clifford hastened into 
 the chamber. Cicely being close behind him. The 
 moment they had both crossed the threshold, she 
 snatched up the pistol which she had left ready to 
 be thus grasped : sha closed the door, and placed 
 
 her back against it. At the same moment there 
 was a rustling of the bed draperies; and forth 
 emerged an individual who at the first glance 
 struck Theodore to bo some stripling of siitoeu or 
 seventeen. But the light of the tapers flashed on 
 the pistol which this individual likewise carried ; 
 and at another glance hastily flung upon the 
 youthful countenance, Theodore recognised Jose- 
 phine Hardress ! 
 
 " Ah !" he ejaculated, as the sudden idea of 
 treachery now smote him — or at least what h& 
 deemed to be treachery : then perceiving that 
 Cicely was also armed, he exclaimed, " Good 
 heavens ! you would not murder me ?" 
 
 " Villain !" cried Josephine, presenting the 
 pistol at his head : " down upon your knees to im- 
 plore your wretched life !" 
 
 "And to surrender up the packet of letters 
 which he has about him !" exclaimed Cicely. " 0:1, 
 despicable, contemptible creaturo that you are ! — 
 did your silly vanity induce you to believe that 
 you were so strong in your fascinations and I so 
 weak in my principles, as to ensure you an ea^y 
 conquest after the acquaintance of but a few 
 days ?" 
 
 " It is all very fine, ladies," said Clilford, en- 
 doavourmg to p"' a g"i^<i f'"=8 "poi "is matter; 
 " but I am not to be thus duped! — and if you 
 drive me to those extremes which may create a 
 disturbance, you will only have yourselves to 
 thank for such a disagreeable result." 
 
 "Fool that you must be!" exclaimed Josephine; 
 " as great an idiot as you are a villain ! to sup- 
 pose that we should not have provided against all 
 contingencies ! This chamber was selected for tlio 
 purpose. It is remote from that part of the house 
 where the domestics now are: no sound can 
 penetrate beyond its walls— and the report of fire- 
 arms would not bo heard out of doors ! Ah, it is 
 no longer a weak woman with whom you have to 
 deal ! Look upon me as a man ! — for by heaven, 
 I possess the spirit of oae— and this garb does not 
 in that sense belie me!" 
 
 It might have at first seemed to the reader a 
 mere silly and puerile idea for Josephine to dress 
 herself up in masculine apparel for the proceeding 
 in which she was now engaged ; but the calcula- 
 tion which had suggested that course was founded 
 on a knowledge of Theodore's character. Like all 
 villains of the mean and despicable stamp, he was 
 more or less a coward ; and Iho presence of that 
 injured girl, apparelled as a man, impressed him 
 with the conviction that it was likewise a man's 
 stern and desperate energy which was inspiring 
 her. Her features, which were wont to be so soft 
 and pensively interesting in their expression, in- 
 dicated a stern resoluteness : her face was pale — 
 but her lips quivered not— and her eyes were 
 riveted vindictively upon the young man, Slio 
 held the pistol levelled at his head; and as ho 
 glanced aside, he beheld Cicely at the door in au 
 equally menacing attitude. 
 
 " Good heavens, they will murder me !" he 
 thought within himself : and then in an audiblo 
 I tone he faltered forth, " What — what do you iu- 
 ' tend to do?" 
 
 j But at that instant the door was violently burst 
 open — Cicely was thrown forward by the fury of 
 the impulse— and Hector Hardress, pale with rage, 
 ! rushed into the chamber.
 
 J, BBADIT AKD PLEAStJEB. 
 
 CUAPTER LXXVI. 
 
 THE CHAILBNQE. 
 
 That the reader may comprehend the cause of 
 this sudden and unexpected appearance of Cicely's 
 husband, a few words of explanation must be 
 given. 
 
 It was perfectly true that he had made an en- 
 gagement to dine with a couple of friends at his 
 club : but on arriving there he found a note to 
 inform him that some other engagement prevented 
 them from keeping the appointment. He knew 
 that his sister Josephine was to dine with Cicely ; 
 and finding no one at the club whose society be 
 particularly coveted, he resolved to return home 
 and take his place at the dinner-table at his own 
 house. On arriving there, he inquired of the 
 lady's-maid where her mistress was P — and he was 
 instantaneously struck by the confusion and be- 
 wilderment of the young woman's manner. 
 
 " Has my sister come ?" he demanded. 
 
 " Tes, sir— that is to say— I think so," faltered 
 out the maid ; " but I am not quite sure " 
 
 "Well then, I will see for myself," ejaculated 
 Hardress abruptly. "I suppose your mistress is 
 up in her own room ?" 
 
 "Tes, sir but — but — she is engaged 
 
 Pray don't— I mean you had better not disturb 
 her " 
 
 Hector Hardress regarded the young woman 
 with increased astonishment and suspicion : he 
 hesitated for a moment whether to ask any more 
 qnestions ; but quickly making up his mind, he 
 strode past her and ascended the staircase. The 
 abigail withdrew in terror, wondering how it would 
 ell end ; for she herself did not rightly understand 
 the purpose for which Miss Hardress had been 
 dressing herself up in men's clothes, or why Mr. 
 Clifford had been so stealthily admitted up into 
 Cicely's boudoir. Of course, however, the maid 
 imagined that some intrigue or love affair was 
 going on j and this was the reason why she was so 
 terrified and confused when questioned by her 
 
 Meanwhile, as we have said. Hector ascended 
 the staircase : and on tiptoe he drew near to the 
 door of his wife's boudoir. There were strong 
 suspicions in his mind — which was natural enough, 
 considering the perturbed looks and manner of the 
 lady's-maid ; and he thought the statement which 
 had been made to him in the morning that his 
 sister Josephine was going to dine with Cicely, 
 might after all have been a mere invention or pre- 
 text to throw him the more effectually off his 
 guard. 
 
 Hector listened at the door of the boudoir ; and 
 the sound of a man's voice met his ears. Ah ! 
 then his suspicion was only too correct — and Cicely 
 was a wanton ! But who could her paramour be ? 
 Hector continued to listen : he did not at once 
 burst into the room to confront the guilty pair, as 
 he believed them to be: he wished to learn parti- 
 culars—to ascertain, if possible, how long the 
 amour had progressed— in a word he was curious 
 to ascertain the circumstances of his own presumed 
 dishonour. But Ah! the name of his siscer Jose- 
 phine was now mentioned ! Surely she was not 
 implicated in any intrigues that were now pro- 
 
 gressing P He listened with suspended breath. It 
 was assuredly his wife Cicely's voice which he 
 
 heard in conversation P Tes! her well-known 
 
 voice that was now speaking seriously of some 
 business-matter which had to be discussed, and 
 then changing into the languid, tremulous aocenta 
 of love. 
 
 Hector's ear was now retained motionlqfs at the 
 key-bole ; and he soon began to comprehend what 
 the business-matter was which had to be discussed. 
 The person who was there, in the boudoir, was 
 Theodore Clifford ! — and Hector knew that there 
 was a time when he had sought his sister Jose, 
 phine in marriage, but that his suit had been 
 peremptorily rejected by Lord and Lady Mendle* 
 sham. Was it possible that at the time to which 
 Hector's recollections thus reverted, Theodore Clif* 
 ford had accomplished the dishonour of Jose- 
 phine P Tes, yes ! it was but too evident ! A 
 bargaining for the return of her letters was pro. 
 gressing in the boudoir ; and Cicely was conduct, 
 ing the negotiation. But how was this? Wai 
 Clifford Cicely's paramour P No— not as yet; for 
 now something was said which showed Hardresf 
 that his wife had only known Clifford for two or 
 three days. But Ah ! now that the negotiation 
 was concluded in respect to Josephine's letters, 
 Theodore Clifford was pleading his own cause with 
 Cicely. "What would be the result P Would she 
 not now indignantly command him to quit her 
 presence P had she not been hitherto temporising 
 and dissembling in order to gain the point on Jose- 
 phine's behalf P Every moment Hector expected 
 to hear his wife start up and order the audacious 
 young patrician to quit her presence : but no I— 
 her voice was becoming lower— it sounded tremu- 
 lous in its tone— and Hardress could no longer 
 catch the sense of the words that were breathed. 
 He strove to peep through the key-hole ; but the 
 sofa where Cicely and Theodore Clifford were 
 seated, was in such a position that he could not 
 command a view of it. At length he heard foot- 
 steps in the boudoir ; and the door of the bed- 
 chamber closed. Ah ! then his wife had yielded I 
 — yielded like the veriest wanton to a man whom 
 she had known but a few days! 
 
 Hector's blood was boiling ; and he resolved to 
 wreak a deadly vengeance upon him whom he now 
 looked upon not merely as the seducer of his 
 sister, but likewise of his wife. He glided along 
 the passage— he traversed the landing— he reached 
 his own dressing-room — and there he provided 
 himself with a brace of loaded pistols. Hastily 
 retracing his way, he again reached the door of 
 the boudoir : be tried it — it was unlocked — and 
 he entered. Three strides brought him to the 
 opposite door — his fingers grasped the handle — 
 he pushed the door forward with desperate vio- 
 leoce, for he felt that there was some obstacle on 
 the inner side — and he burst into the chamber. 
 
 It was at this point that the preceding chapter 
 closed ; and we may thence resume the thread of 
 our narrative. A very different spectacle from 
 what he had anticipated, burst upon the eyes of 
 Hector Hardress. Instead of discovering his wife 
 embraced in the arms of a paramour, he found 
 that he had hurled her forward from the door; 
 and at tUe first glance he beheld, as he thought, 
 two persons of the other sex with her. An ejacu- 
 lation of bewilderment burst from his lips. He
 
 AONES; OR, BEADTT AND PLEASUKE. 
 
 %'■: ' V 
 
 at once recognised Theodore Clifford: but the 
 other individual in male costume was hurrying be. 
 hind the bed curtain. 
 
 " Make no disturbance, Hector, for heaven's 
 sake !" exclaimed Cicely, as she quickly sprang up 
 to her feet from the carpet on which she had 
 been violently thrown. "As for you, faint.hearted 
 one " 
 
 But here interrupting herself. Cicely advanced 
 towards the bed-draperies ; and Josephine, rushing 
 forth, threw her arms about the neck of her sister- 
 in-law— clinging to her as if for protection against 
 the pnibable ire of her br^jther. 
 
 " Ah ! by heaven, this is too much !" ejaculated 
 Hardress. " What I in my very presence ?" — 
 and at the same time the sharp click of a pistol 
 was heard. 
 
 " Stop ! it is your sister !" said Theodore Clif- 
 ford, who was a prey to an excruciating degree of 
 excitement. 
 
 Mo. 51. — Agnes. 
 
 " My sister ?" ejaculated Hector. "Villain I" he 
 added, in a loud and threatening voice, " she is the 
 victim of your treachery !" 
 
 " Ah ! then he does indeed know all 1" shrieked 
 forth Josephine ; and disengaging her arms from 
 about the neck of Cicely, she flew to embrace her 
 brother. 
 
 " Tell me the meaning of all this ?" demanded 
 Hector. " Josephine, compose your feelings I 
 Cicely, speak !" 
 
 " It means, Hector," responded his wife, with a 
 lofty dignity, " that you have evidently burst into 
 this chamber in the expectation of finding me 
 .with a paramour. But you are mistaken,— and 
 perhaps you will feel your own conduct all the 
 more keenly in its bitterness and meanness, when 
 you learn that all I have been doing was with a 
 view to save the character of your sister !" 
 
 " Yes — it is so. Hector ! it is so I" exclaimed 
 Josephine. " Cicely ia my best friend I"
 
 403 
 
 S; OB, BEADIT AHD FLBABUBB. 
 
 " F.Tgive me, C'cely T' BaiH ber husband ; " but 
 you will admit that the circumstances were sus- 
 picious. 1 listened at the door of the boudoir — I 
 heHrd only a part " 
 
 " And now you may learn the rest," exclsinwd 
 Cicely. '■ My object was at first to lull this til- 
 lain"— and she indicated Clifford — "into the most 
 eelf-complacent confiilence, in order that I might 
 obtain the assurance that all J^'sepiiine's letter* 
 were given up, and that I might moreover receive 
 from him a letter which may at any time be pro- 
 duced to stide the breath of suspicion, to silence 
 the whisper of calumny, or to refute his 
 words if in a moment of brajrgart vaunting he 
 should at any time proclaim how well he had 
 stood in the good graces of the Honourable JVIiss 
 Hardress." 
 
 " And in all these aims you have succeeded. 
 Cicely ?" said Hector. " Yes — for I overheard 
 
 " I have succeeded ao far that this pirson's 
 letter lies upon the table of the boudoir," re- 
 sponded Cicely. 
 
 " And Josephine's correspondence ?" cried Hec- 
 tor impatiently. 
 
 " It was to enforce the surrender thereof," re- 
 joined Cicely, " that he was ipveigled hither. Two 
 weak women would have been sufficient to accom- 
 plish the purpose if yoa had not burst into the 
 room at the moment : bat now that you, the strong 
 man, are here, you may Cake the business into your 
 
 "Yes — it is indeed my affair !" ejaculated Hec- 
 tor. " Mr. Clifford," he continued, turning towards 
 this individual, who had been standing pale and 
 agitated at a little distance, "you will at once 
 surrender up the correspondence which so nearly 
 regards my sister's honour — or by heaven ! you are 
 
 As Hector thus spoke, he presented a pistol at 
 Theodore Clifford's head; while his countenance 
 expressed the sternest resolution. Theodore re- 
 coiled in ghastliest horror from the cold muzzle 
 which for an instant touched his very brow, and 
 he faltered forth, " Spare my life I here ia the 
 
 It was Josephine's own hand which was now 
 thrust forward to snatch the bundle of letters from 
 her seducer j and she quickly secured them about 
 her person. 
 
 " You may take possession of the pocket-book 
 which lies upon the table in the other room, Mr. 
 Clifford," said Cicely, with an ironical laugh ; 
 " for you will 6nd that instead of containing bank- 
 notes to the amount of fitteen hundred pounds, 
 its contents are limited to some tradesmen's bills, 
 which you are very welcome to pay if you like 1" 
 
 Ti.eodore Clifford was now utterly discomfited. 
 Baffled, defeated, and humiliated in every point- 
 exposed as a thorough paced villain of the meanest, 
 dirtiest, and most cowardly description -he was 
 8e>2ed with a kind of rage; and he said in a 
 hoarse voice, " Well, now that you have all done 
 your worst, I suppose you will let me depart?" 
 
 "Not yet, sir !" responded Hector sternly. "It 
 is true you are deprived of the means of accom- 
 plishing farther mischief, or of making a profitable 
 market by your past villanies: but this is not 
 eaSoient I The honour of my sister has been 
 betrayed by jon ; and I w her brother, demaod 
 
 satisfaction. Indeed, I not only demand it — but 
 I am in B condition to enforce it. This very 
 evening shall the matter be settled; and either 
 you or I shall be left for dead upon the grass !" 
 
 " No, Hector— no !" said Josephine, shudder- 
 ingly and entreatingly : "risk not your lifo for my 
 
 "Stand back, girl! stand back!" said Hector 
 sletnly. "How have you dared dress yourself 
 in male apparel, if you still retained the spirit of 
 s poor weak woman ?" 
 
 " O 1, I understand you. Hector!" exclaimed 
 Josephine : " it is my own quarrel— and I will 
 bear my part in it ! It is my honour that has 
 been lost— and it shall be avenged! Yes! — ere 
 now I vaunted the manly spirit that bad taken 
 possession of me " 
 
 " Enough, Josephine 1" interjected her brother; 
 "yon shall have an opportunity of exhibiting this 
 spirit as my second in the duel that is about to 
 take place. Mr. Clifford," he continued, agaia 
 turning towards Theodore, "can you at once 
 despatch a note to some friend requesting his as- 
 sistance within an hour or two ? We will not 
 sleep upon this affair which we have in hand. 
 The moon rises early — the nights are beautiful and 
 starlit— and if you have any fear that we shall 
 not be enabled to take our aim accurately, why, 
 it is but shortening the distance a few paces " 
 
 " Is it really your intention, Mr. 
 inquired Theodore Clifford, n 
 Coolness as he could possibly command, " to force 
 me into a duel this evening?" 
 
 " It M my intention," responded Hector 
 firmly. " It is now half-past five o'clock," he con- 
 tinued, looking at bis watch; "the full moon is 
 already rising it will he a novel and exhilarating 
 scene! Come sir! tax your memnry — have you 
 no friend resitling in this neighbourhood to whom 
 you can transmit a billet containing a few 
 words ?" 
 
 " Toa are serious, sir ?" said Theodore, who 
 was still excessively pale and very much agitated. 
 
 " Most serious ! " rejoined Hector. " If you 
 be a coward, I will emleavour to stimulate your 
 flagging sense of honour by a blow ; —and if that 
 will not suffice, I will to-morrow post your name 
 in all the clubs and hotels of the West End !" 
 
 " By heaven, sir, this is not needed !" ejaculated 
 Theodore. "I will give you the satis action which 
 you demand. Name your place— suffer me to 
 depart hence— and in one hour I will be upon the 
 spot attended by a friend!" 
 
 Hector Hardress seemed to hesitate for a few 
 moments whether he should assent to this propo- 
 sition and suffer Theodore Clifford to escape out of 
 his sight. He had no very high opinion of Clif- 
 ford's courage; and indeed he more than sus- 
 pected his opponent only consented to fight 
 through fear of being proclaime i as a coward. 
 Hector knew that this fear might prove even 
 stronger than the actual cowardice itself, and 
 therefore might bring Theodore upon the field; 
 but on tho other hand it was equally probable that 
 when once beyond the 'influence of present coer- 
 cion, Clift'ord might flee to the Continent or bury 
 
 nself elsewhere until the entire matter should 
 
 blown over. Therefore H-'Ctor soon arrived at 
 
 particular conclusion ; and he said, " No, Mr. 
 CWord — it is unnecessary that we should part.
 
 AQITKS; OE, BEAUTT ASD PLEASUBB. 
 
 40J 
 
 S-»er8l reasons render it expedient that we should 
 oontinue together. In the Grst place, so long as 
 you remain unrter my eye, 1 shall know that satis- 
 faction is within mj reach. In the second place, 
 my sister whom you have dishonoured, must be- 
 come a witness of the chastisement which I pur- 
 pose to inflict on the author of her dishonour! 
 She will accompany us— but it is not necessary 
 that your second should know that it is a lady in 
 male attire ; and 1 will take care that you have 
 no opportuuity of whispering that fact — for if you 
 dare to do so, I will at once blow out your brains, 
 «Ten though I may afterwards hang upon the scaf- 
 fold !" 
 
 " Hector!" ejaculated Josephine, horrified at 
 (be idea. 
 
 " Silence, girl !" said her brother sternly. " Am 
 I again to remind you that you wear male attire ? 
 Mr. Clifford, time is passing. What do you pur- 
 pose to do f" 
 
 "I have a friend living at no great distance 
 hence— at Nulling Hill " 
 
 ** The very thing !" fjaculated Hector : " it is 
 all in the way to (he Gehls where we shall pre 
 sently practise our hands with these pretty little 
 rifle-pisiols." 
 
 "But this friend of mine ia very young," con 
 tinned CliiFc.rd, — " not more than nineteen or 
 
 " My sister does not look so much in-ber mas- 
 culine garb," intHrji-cted Hardress. "Who is this 
 friend o( your's ?' 
 
 " You do not know bim — be has only recently 
 come from abroad with an old uncle— his name is 
 Hailes." 
 
 " But can the nephew bo feiohed away from the 
 ancle at a momeni's warning p" 
 
 "Yes — at ihis hour; for they dine early," re 
 plied Clifford. "A few liues penned by me, will 
 lafSce " 
 
 " Come," said Hector ; " it is all aa good as 
 •ettied." 
 
 He led the way into the boudoir, and pointed 
 to the table on «hich the writing materials lay, 
 
 "This letter," said Cicely, taking up the one 
 which Theodore Clifford had penned some three- 
 quariera of an hour back, " was written to me, 
 and bad therefore better remain in my posses- 
 sion." 
 
 " Be it so, my dear Cicely," said ber husband : 
 and then he addfd in a whisper, as he drew her 
 aside, " But it is scarcely likely that it wil. ever 
 be wanted, for that villain Clifford shall must cer- 
 tainly die !" 
 
 " Be not too confident, Hector !" said Cicely, 
 also in a low whisper: "you cannot always rely 
 upon such prec siou of aim " 
 
 " I tell you. Cicely, that Theodore Clifford shall 
 die!" Hat -ress e'i>phatiCdlly responded, but still 
 in a lone so subdued as to be inaudible except to 
 their two selves. "By his death onlt/ will Jose- 
 phine's secret be safe ! All the letters in the 
 world written by such a villain, would not serve 
 aa a sufficient guarantee for bis silence; and if he 
 chijse to vaunt the amour, or on any future occa- 
 
 rest assured that poor Josephine's plight would 
 be a piteous one Yes! -for the world is always 
 more ri'vdy to believe than to discredit such tales 
 
 " But why tako Josephine with you ?" asked 
 Cicely. " Is it not incurring a great risk ?— for if 
 Clifford be left dead upon the field, she will have 
 to appear as a witness— or she will be ar- 
 rested " 
 
 "No— in that case my second takes to flight, 
 and that is all ! Who need know that beneath 
 that masculine garb my own sister was concealed ? 
 -for the only one who could reveal the secret 
 will have been silenced for ever !" 
 
 "But again I ask, why take Josephine at all?" 
 demanded Cicely. 
 
 "Why — why," said her husband impatiently. 
 "I have my reasons— you shall know them here- 
 after. And now accept my thanks. Cicely, for the 
 part which you have borne in this affair— and 
 receive my excuses for the suspicion which I en- 
 tertained " 
 
 " Enough !" interrupted Cicely : " though I was 
 angry at the time you so abruptly burst into the 
 chamber, yet I must admit that you bad ample 
 
 . did." 
 
 "Have you finished your note, sir?" inquired 
 Hector, now turning towards Theodore Clif- 
 ford. 
 
 " I have," was the response. " You may read 
 it. See! — it merely says that I am waiting in a 
 vehicle at the door, and wish to see Mr. Andrew 
 Hailes immediately." 
 
 " That «ill do," rejoined Hector. "And now, 
 my dear Cicely, go and order that clever maid of 
 yuur's to have a cab drawn up at the bottom of 
 the garden in as short a time as possible." 
 
 Mrs. Hardre«8 accordingly issued from the 
 boudoir; and during the few minutes that ber 
 absence lasted a profound silence was observed by 
 the three nho remained there. When she cams 
 back, she said, " By the time that you are at the 
 end of the garden, the cab will be thare." 
 
 " Will you agree that my pistols shall be used, 
 sir ?" asked Hector. " I promise that you shall 
 take your choice." 
 
 Cliff rd bowed an affirmative ; and Hardress 
 proceeded to fetch his pistol-case from his own 
 dressing room. This was but the work of a 
 minute ; and on his return to the boudoir, he said, 
 " There is now nothing to detain us ;" — then draw, 
 ing Cicely aside for a few moments, he added in 
 a whisper, "I hid you no serious farewell, because 
 I have no fear as to the result. Yet if anything 
 should happen to me, — remember. Cicely, that 
 since our marriage we have been on good terms — 
 — and you have had no reason to complain of 
 
 " None, Hector," she replied, not without some 
 evidence of emotion : and she was about to add a 
 few more words, when he suddenly pressed her 
 band and turned away. 
 
 The trio— namly, Hector Hardress, his sister 
 Josephine, and Theodore Clifford— descended a 
 private staircase which led into the garden, and 
 which was the one whereby Clifford had been in- 
 troduced by the ahigail to the boudoir. The 
 garden was traversed — the gate at the extremity 
 was reached — and there a cab was found to be in 
 attendance. They entered the vehicle; and Hec- 
 tor Hardress whispered to Theodore Clifford, 
 " X'ell the driver where he is to ston to take up 
 Mr. Hailes." 
 
 CliUord mentioned the address: (be driver
 
 401 
 
 AGKE8; OE, BEAPTT ASD PLEASUn 
 
 mounted to his box — and the cab drove away. 
 Not a ayllable was afterwards spoken until the cab 
 stopped at the expiration of about ten minutes j 
 and as Hector glanced forth from the window, he 
 perceived that the vehicle had halted opposite one 
 of those small but genteel-looking villas which 
 abound in the dictricts of Bajswater and Kotting 
 HUl. 
 
 " Now give yoar directiona, iir," nid Hudress 
 to Theodore Clifford. 
 
 The driver was summoned to the window, and 
 Theodore said, " Knock at the door and deliver 
 this note. You need say nothing." 
 
 The cabman did as he was desired ; and while 
 he was thus engaged. Hector said in a low tone, 
 ' ilr Clifford, I need scarcely remind you of the 
 hreat which I ere now held out ; and yet I will 
 epeat it in order that there may not be the 
 ilighiest misunderstanding on your part — for the 
 natter is a very serious one! 1 shall introduce 
 Dy sister to Mr. Hailes by some name that may 
 presently strike me; and I warn you not to drop 
 the slightest bint, either purposely or inadver- 
 tently, to lead Mr. Hailes to suspect that beaeatb 
 the garb of a man, a woman is concealed. 1 have 
 a pistol in my hand, ilr. Clifford ; and by the 
 sternal heaven ! I swear that if you neglect the 
 warning I have given, I will blow your brains 
 out, let the consequences be what they will to 
 aae 1" 
 
 " Tou speak as a brother who considers that he 
 has a right to avenge his sister's wrongs," answered 
 Clifford ; " and therefore there is an allowance to 
 be made for you." 
 
 "Do not put the matter in that light, sir," re- 
 joined Hector sternly : " but keep tki4 constantly 
 In your imagination !'* 
 
 At the same time Theodore Clifford felt some- 
 thing cold, like a circle of iron, press against his 
 cheek ; for he was placed on the same seat with 
 Hector Hardress. He knew that this object was 
 the muzzle of a pistol ; and be could not help 
 giving vent to an ejaculation of horror. 
 
 "Be not frigh'ened! There shall be no inad- 
 vertence on my part," said Hardress quietly. " Do 
 you keep a guard upon yourself — and I will 
 guarantee that this pistol shall not explode acci- 
 dentally." 
 
 This colloquy took place in a far lesa time than 
 it has occupied us to record it; and Josephine 
 breathed more freely when she heard her brother's 
 concluding words— for she was previously ehrink- 
 jQCT in mortal terror lest the pistol should go off. 
 Bitterly did she repent of the step which she had 
 taken in dressing herself up in male attire and 
 consenting that Theodore Clifford should be en- 
 ticed to Cicely's house ; but the mischief was 
 done— all the regrets in the world could not alter 
 ber position— and though she shuddered to con. 
 template what might happen, yet she had not the 
 moral courage to speak boldly to her brother and 
 insist upon being suffered to alight from the 
 vehicle and withdraw from any farther connexion 
 with the present proceedin:^9. 
 
 Almost immediately after Hector Hardress had 
 ceased speaking to Theodore Clifford, the cabman 
 returned from the front door of the villa ; and 
 stepping up to the window of the vehicle, he said, 
 ■' The message is that Mr. Hailes will come imme- 
 diately." 
 
 Scarcely a c.uple of minutes elapsed before the 
 young gentleman thus alluded to made bis appear- 
 ance. Both Hector and Josephine — never having 
 seen him before — were nattirally curious to discern 
 what sort of a companion they were about to re- 
 ceive in the prosecution of the present business : 
 they therefore fixed their looks upon him as he 
 rapidly advanced from the front door of the villa 
 towards the vehicle. The moon was shining 
 brightly ; and its silver beams revealed a alender 
 and genteel figure, a little above the middle 
 height. The countenance was evidently beard- 
 less : but then, as Theodore Clifford had stated, 
 Andrew Hailes was little better than a mere boy 
 — his age was only nineteen. Hastily approaching 
 the cab, he looked in, and at once ejaculated in a 
 voice that was pleasant and agreeable enough, 
 " Ah ! you have got friends with you, Clifford I" 
 
 "A Couple of gentlemen on business," responded 
 Theodore. " Step in, Andrew — say not a word— 
 I will explain everything in a tew minutes." 
 
 The young gentleman accor'tingly entered the 
 cab; and it was now Hector Hardress who gave 
 the driver instructions as to whither he was to 
 
 " Tell me, my dear Andrew," said Clifford, u 
 the equipage drove onward, " did you succeed in 
 leaving the house wi:hout the knowledge of the 
 old gentleman ? " 
 
 " I was preparing to come oat," replied Hailes, 
 " at the very moment when your note was placed 
 in my hand. The old gentleman has fallen fast 
 asleep as usual ; and the evening is all before me. 
 But now, Clifford " 
 
 " Permit me to introduce you to the Honour- 
 able Hector Hardress," said Theodore. " Mr. 
 Hardress will himself introduce you to the other 
 gentleman." 
 
 " Mr. Godolphin," said Hardress, bestowing in 
 this off-hana manner that grand historical name 
 upon his sister Josephine. 
 
 Young Hailes bowed with a certain degree «f 
 respect to Hector Hardress, and then to the so- 
 calltd Mr. Grodolphin. He was fresh upon town, 
 and was much dazzled and flattered by forming 
 aristocratic acquaintances. He was somewhat 
 vain ; and it was the height of his ambition to 
 be the friend and companion of the fashionable 
 men about London. He bad the command of 
 plenty of ready money, and was quite willing to 
 suffer Theodore Clifford to dip into his purse, in 
 return for the countenance which he bestowed 
 upon him, and for introducing him to the young 
 patricians of his acquaintance. 
 
 Having bowed to Hector Hardress with that 
 halt-respectful manner to which we have alluded, 
 Andrew Hailes turned to bestow a similar saluta- 
 tion upon the so-called Mr. Qodolphin, — when be 
 was surprised to perceive how youn^-looking, and 
 even boyish the latter was. Andrew had hitherto 
 experienced some misgivings lest be himself might 
 be too juvenile to be allowed to associate with 
 men about town : but now be thought to himselt. 
 Well, I am sure, if Mr. Godolphin is admitted 
 into their set, I need have no diffidence on the 
 
 bt!" 
 
 Meanwhile Hector and Josephine were respec- 
 tively noticing that young Hailes was an exceed- 
 ngly good-looking person, with regular leaturea, 
 fine eyes, nice teeib, and a prolusion of rich brown
 
 AG5E8 ; OE, BEAUTY ASD PLEASDEB. 
 
 bair. He was dressed with some decree of pre' 
 leDsion, and wore a great deal c jewellery; for be 
 bad not as yet caugbt up as it were all the habits 
 of well-bred people. In truth, we may as w 
 observe that be was in some sense a parvenu ; i 
 his family had belonged to the trading class 
 though Andrew himself was brought up in tb 
 way which the world expresses by the term " as 
 gentleman." However, good-looking he assuredly 
 was, and likewise of genteel appearance ; his man. 
 ners could not be cavilled at— his voice was har- 
 monious—and altogether both Hector and Jose- 
 phine formed a sufficiently agreeable opinion ol 
 him. 
 
 " And now, my dear Clifford," said Mr. Hailes, 
 when he bad been duly introduced to the Hon. 
 Hector Hardreaa and the so-called Mr. Godol- 
 phin, " Will you tell me what we are going to do, 
 and why your billet waa penned so myste- 
 
 " The answer is given in a moment," replied 
 Clifford. "You wish to see a little of life, my 
 dear Andrew— and you have accepted me as your 
 guide and mentor. Well then, I am going to 
 show you a scene from life by the rays of the 
 moon. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred 
 these sort of things take place by the earliest 
 beams of the eun : but in the present instance it 
 is to be otherwise " 
 
 " What on earth can you mean, my dear fel- 
 low ?" exclaimed Andrew Hailes, with the most 
 
 unfeigned astonishment, "Surely But no! it 
 
 cannot be !" — and yet a suspicion of the actual 
 truth bad flitted for an instant through the young 
 gentleman's brain. 
 
 " Ah, I see that you have half guessed it," ob- 
 served Clifford. "The fact is, my dear fellow, a 
 duel is to be fought." 
 
 " A duel ? Ah, indeed ! Well, they are some- 
 times necessary evils : they cannot always be 
 avoided :" — and it was thus that young Hailes en- 
 deavoured to talk like a man of the world upon 
 the subject, and conceal the trepidation of his 
 emotions beneath an exterior of assumed calmness 
 and self-possession. "But am I to understand 
 that you are one of the principals, Clifford ?" 
 
 "Yes; and Mr. Hardress is the other. Mr. 
 Godolphin will act as friend to Mr. Hardress; 
 and L knew that I might take a liberty with you, 
 my dear Hailes, by naming you as my own 
 second." 
 
 " A true friend is always ready to obey any 
 call," replied the young man : " but in the present 
 case I could wish that it had been a more agree- 
 able one. However, I shall do my duty. Am I 
 to be made acquainted with the nature of the dis- 
 pute f" 
 
 Clifford knew sot precisely what reply to give 
 to this query, but Hector Hardress at once came 
 to his relief, by saying, "Must assuredly, Mr. 
 Hailes, you must be made acquainted with the 
 ground of the dispute. Mr. Clifford has already 
 bad the privilege of explaining it to my second ; 
 and I therefore will now explain it to you. This 
 mode of proceeding is perhaps somewhat irre- 
 gular " 
 
 " But if we all agree," interjected young Hailes, 
 »bo was now studying to show that he treated the 
 matter in a business-like way, " we impart order 
 and regularity to that which would perhaps other- 
 
 wise be somewhat inconsistent with established 
 usages." 
 
 " Well spoken, Mr. Hailes !" said Hardress, 
 affecting to speak in a tone of mingled surprise 
 and admiration. "Why, you are not altogether 
 inexperienced in these sort of affairs— and Mr. 
 Clifford may congratulate himself on having 
 selected so able a second." 
 
 Now, although Andrew Hailes had never seen 
 a duel in his life, and was utterly ignorant of 
 everything pertaining thereto, even to the loading 
 of a pistol, — yet he thought there was no neces- 
 sity to avow the truth and thus lose the character 
 for a certain degree of worldly experience which 
 Hardress had just given him. He therefore flung 
 out a mysterious hint to the effect " that he was 
 not quite new at this sort of thing;" and then he 
 requested Hector Hardress to proceed. 
 
 " In reference to the cause of quarrel," con* 
 tinned this gentleman, "it may be very briefly ex- 
 plained. Mr. Clifford and 1 were dining to- 
 gether : we played at cards — a discussion arose — 
 angry words ensued — and then blows were ex- 
 changed. Mr. Clifford is here to tell you, Mr. 
 Hailes, whether this statement be strictly correct 
 
 And while Hardress was thus speaking, Theo- 
 dore Clifford felt the muzzle of the pistol touch 
 the back of his neck, as if it were an iron ring 
 pressed against the flesh ; and it sent as strong a 
 shuddering through his form as if it had been the 
 contact of a reptile. He thprefore lost no time 
 in saying, "Yes, my dear Hailes— Mr. Hardress 
 has put the matter fairly enough before you." 
 
 " And therefore you see, Mr. Hailes," continued 
 Hector, " blows have been exchanged— blows, sir!" 
 
 " Yes— I see," said the young gentleman, with 
 a grave business-like tone: "there was no alter- 
 
 "None!" rejoined Hector, — "none but this 
 which has been adopted '" 
 
 " May I ask if yoa two gentlemen were dining 
 alone together ?" inquired Hailes ; " or if there 
 were any witnessps ?" 
 
 " My friend Godolphin was dining with us," 
 replied he ; " and he therefore at once proffered 
 his services. Mr. Clifford, while casting about in 
 his mind for an experienced and able friend, flxed 
 his thoughts upon you. We then agreed that the 
 matter should be settled without delay— so we 
 took a cab and drove to your residence." 
 
 Young Hailes was in a strange state of ner- 
 vousness and excitement. On the one hand he 
 shuddered at the idea of blood being shed and 
 perhaps of life being lost : but on the other hand 
 he felt himself to be of consequence — his vanity 
 was flattered — he was already " somebody "—the 
 confl'lential friend of young patricians about town 1 
 He therefore still did his best to maintain a cer- 
 tain business-like composure; and he said, "Is it 
 not possible, gentlemen, for this unpleasant matter 
 to be arranged amicably, by the intervention of 
 mutual friends — for instance, Mr. Godolphin and 
 myself?" 
 
 " Impossible, sir !" exclaimed Hardress sternly. 
 "Blows have been exchanged! indeed, I know 
 my friend Mr. Godolphin would not for a moment 
 listen " j 
 
 " No, not I !" said Josephine, rendering her ' 
 voice as mowuline aa sossible ■ and now, as the |
 
 400 
 
 AGJES; OE, BEArTT AKD PLEASTEE. 
 
 §uppo8ed Mr Gonolphin spoke for the first time 
 •ince Hailea bad entered the cab, it struck bim 
 tbat be had a very agreeable Toice — for Jose- 
 pbine's endeavour to torture it into gruffoeas had 
 not proved very successful. 
 
 Tbere was now a pause, which was not how- 
 ever of very long duration ; for it was broken by 
 young Hailes, who inquired, " And pray is it 
 already settled where the hostile encounter is to 
 take place ? I think tbat on these points I ought 
 to address myself to you, sir," he added, turning 
 towards Josephine. 
 
 "To me?" she ejaculated, for an instant half 
 frightened : then quickly recovering herself, she 
 said, "Oh, Ah! the place of meeting! Yes — to be 
 
 " Tbat is always a point to be arranged by the 
 seconds," said young Uailes, witball the dogma 
 tiam of an authority. 
 
 "To be sure," replied Josephine, somewhat be 
 wildered. "The place of meeting I think yoi 
 aaid ? Well, sir, ii's just alcne here— at no very 
 great distanre — in tb^t direction:" and she j-rked 
 her band so vaguely with respect to any particular 
 
 j piiiot of ti.e compass that young Hailea continued 
 
 I just as wise as ever. 
 
 "The place of meelinf, Mr. Hailea, will 
 speedily be reached," said Hector ; " and I hope 
 that you will not consider it a? wanting in respect 
 towards yourself that this pnint should have been 
 srrangpd before you entered the cab." 
 
 "Oh, I am perfectly well satisBed, Mr. Hard- 
 rcss," answered the young gentleman, delighted 
 by the urbanity of the manners of both bis new 
 patrician acquaintances. " And now about the 
 
 pistols and on this point 1 must again refer to 
 
 this quarter," he added, once more turning to the 
 sO'Called Mr. Grodolphin, 
 
 Although the moonlight was beautifully clear, 
 yet it was not so bright as to allow everything to 
 be plainly visible inside the cab ; so that the young 
 gentleman failed to observe bow pallid suddenly 
 became Josephine's cheek when he breathed the 
 word " pistols." Indeed, she felt as if her heart 
 were altogether sinking within her; and she there- 
 fore made a desperate effort to resuscitate her 
 flagging courage. 
 
 " The pistols, Mr. Hailes," she said, " are here 
 —somewhere in the cab. That point is agreed 
 upon." 
 
 "Then I am perfectly satisfied," ejaculated 
 Andrew Hailes; "and as I judge from what 1 
 have already beard that Mr. Hardrese was the 
 challenger and Mr. Clifford the challenged, the 
 ri.bt of loading the pistols rests with me as Mr. 
 Clifford's second. But since I know nothing 
 about those pistols, 1 shall of course leave it to you, 
 Mr. Godolphin." 
 
 " To me ?" ejaculated Josephine, in a voice of 
 euch terror that she would have betrayed herself 
 if she had not instantaneously carried the matter 
 off by exclaiming in the roughest tone she could 
 possibly assume, " Oh, yes ! of course !— if it be 
 loy place— or if you, Mr. Hailes, experience any 
 d-fljculty " 
 
 j " The pistols are already loaded," interposed 
 Hardress, somewhat decisively; for though he did 
 
 I not wish to seem to interfere or dictate too much, 
 yei be saw the absoltne necessity of putting an end 
 
 : to I be oiecuseiun. 
 
 The cab now stopped at some point betwaen 
 Netting Hill and Shepherd's Bush : and they all 
 four alighted. 
 
 " My good fellow," uid Hector, giving a sove- 
 reign to the cabman, " you will wait here until our 
 
 " I hope, genelmen," said the driver, who had 
 his suspicions in consequence of having caught • 
 glimpse of Hector's pistol-case,— "I hope, genel> 
 men, there's nothink wrong " 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself about the matter," in- 
 terrupted Hardress. " Ah, I forgot ! I only 
 blinded one eye. Here is something to close the 
 other :" — anti he gave the man a second piece of 
 
 It was more than sufficient to render the cab- 
 man blind, deaf, dumb, or anything else that fiud- 
 ress might have chosen to make him. 
 
 CHAPTEE LXXTII. 
 
 IHE DCEU 
 
 The little party of four now moved away from the 
 spot where the cab had baited ; and Hardress, 
 teasing towards his sister a cloak which be had 
 brought to conceal the pistol case, exclaimed, 
 " Godolphin, this is your mantle " 
 
 Josephine hastened to put it on; for she not 
 only felt very cold, and her teeth were chattering, 
 hut she was likewise afraid that Andrew Bailee 
 would discover her sex by her walk. 
 
 The moon was shining brilliantly ; and the little 
 party struck across three or four fields, the dew 
 saiuratiog the elegant patent leather boots which 
 they all wore. Not a word was now spoken: each 
 was engaged with bis own thoughts. Hardress 
 waa most anxious to find an opportunity to whisper 
 a few syllables in the ear of his sister: but be was 
 somewhat at a loss how to manage it. He could 
 not take her aside ; for by so doing be would 
 be leaving Clifford and Hailes alone together 
 — and this was the very thing be was most 
 anxious to avoid ; for he did not want to afford 
 Theodore the slightest opportunity of revealing the 
 whole truth to his friend Hailes, and thus enlighten 
 the latter not merely on the point of Josephine's 
 dishonour, but likewise as to the fact that Jose- 
 s herself was actually present tbere at tbat 
 
 ow then wasHector to contrive matters so as to 
 hi- enabled to whisper a «ord in his sister's ear? For 
 mi:iutes he nas bewildered bow to act ; and 
 then a thought struck him. They were now about 
 three-quarters of a mile distant from the cab : 
 they bad traversed three fields— they were entering 
 he fourth. 
 
 " This place will do," said Hector, suddenly,— 
 'at least if Mr. Clifford and the seconds be 
 
 " For wy part, I think we could not choose a 
 letter spot," observed Hailes, with an sir of im- 
 
 Here are the pistols. See i I open the cue 
 upon the ground ! Come ! let us retreat a little, 
 gentlemen— and let Ur Clifford choose whicl) of 
 the two weapons be thinks fit."
 
 ASSE8; OK, aSAVTT i 
 
 PLEAStTKB. 
 
 4U7 
 
 Tbui speaklog, Hector pulled his sister and 
 youD^ Hailes a teff paces back ; ti fails Clifford at 
 once advancerl to the pistot-case. Hector's object 
 in keepir-g Clifford and Hailes apart, was thus 
 gained ; and availing himself nf the present oppor- 
 tunitT, be stepped back another half dozen paces, 
 end with the utmost rapidity drew Josephine 
 with him. What be then did and said, was the 
 work of bat a few seconds. 
 
 " Take this pistol ! thrust it under jour cloak ! 
 Watch Clifford well ! If my shot fails, do jou 
 fire that instant. Shoot him ! kill him!— or by 
 heaven, Josephine, you are lost 1" 
 
 The young lady was aghast, and she almost 
 dropped the pistol which she bad mechanically 
 clutched : but the eyes of her brother darted a 
 fierce atern look upon her — and she recovered her 
 presence of mind in a moment. i 
 
 " Perhaps you will measure the ground, Mr. 
 Hailes," eiclaimed Hector : " twelves paces right 
 off trom the spot where you are standing." j 
 
 Hailes dropped his handkerchief to mark the 
 ■tarimg point; and then he proceeded deliberniely 
 to pace forward, counting at each step : " One — I 
 two— three " and so on. 
 
 This was another opportunity sought by Hard- ' 
 ress to whisper a few mors words in the ear of his 
 lister. 
 
 " Josephine," he said, " for God's Bake do as I 
 have bidden you ! Fail not ! All this is to save 
 your honour, which otherwise ij lost ! £ill him ! 
 — or by heaven I will kill you ! Fear not young 
 Hailes: he is a fool whom we can manage!" 
 
 There was a terrible energy in Hector's words 
 
 and looks ; ai d Josephine caught some of the 
 
 ' fierce spirit which animated her brother at the 
 
 wilriered to enable her to reason with herself or to 
 deliberate on all the points of this fearlul pusitlon. 
 She only saw and felt that she had a partieular 
 course to adopt ; and there was a species of spell 
 which made her resolved to do as she was bid- 
 den. ! 
 
 Hector glanced round: Andrew Hailes had 
 ( measured twelve paces — and Clifford had just I 
 chosen a pistol. Hector accordingly hastened to 
 take up the other; and he said in a cold voice, 
 "All is ready, Mr. Clifford : let us place ourselves. 
 Your friend shall give the signal. Neither of us," 
 added Hardress significantly, " require to speak 
 aside to our seconds : for we have no last instruc- 
 tions to give." I 
 
 Theodore Cliff'ord said not a word : he felt his 
 heart palpitating so violently that he was afraid 
 to trust his voice lest its tremulousness should 
 excite the suspicion that he was a coward. It re- 
 qu red all the efforts of which he was capable to 
 sustain an outward air of composure. Hector 
 himself was deceived; and he muttered, "By 
 heaven I the lellow is no coward afier all !" 
 
 Andrew Hailes was about to accost Theodore 
 Clifford, when Hector tossed him his pocket 
 handkerchief, exclaiming, " There, Mr. Hailes ! 
 you are to give the signal. Stand out that way, | 
 if you please, sir! But of course you know !— you 
 are not new at these affairs ! There ! that's 
 right ! Take your stand there— count three— and 
 drop the white kerchief." 
 
 Josephine was standing near her brother : she 
 did DOt tremble now — ahe did not feel cold— hei , 
 
 teeth ilid not chatter. Nevertheless, she was 
 under a species of consternation, and yet with the 
 fullest and firmest decision of purpose. Her mind 
 was impressed with the necessity that Theodore 
 Clifford must die ; and she had an idea that being 
 somehow or another mixed up in this duel, she 
 might take a part therein without becoming liable 
 to tbe imputation of murder. Such was the 
 thought, but vague and indistinct, which floated in 
 her mind, above the dark purpose which lay at 
 the bottom — like a fleecy cloud over a yawning 
 black pit. For a moment Josephine beheld 
 Hector's eyes fixed with terrible significancy upon 
 her; and underneath her cloak she grasped the 
 pistol more tightly, while she kept its muzzle in 
 such a position that she might fire it in an instant. 
 That look thrown upon her by flector, seemed to fill 
 her mind with a horrible clearness : she beheld in 
 her brother the avenger of her dishonour — and 
 she felt bound to do his bidding ! 
 
 And it was while she was still in this mood — 
 still under this influence — that Andrew Hailes 
 gave the signal, 
 
 " One — two — three :" and the white kerchief 
 was dropped. 
 
 The report of a pistol instantaneously followed : 
 it was Clifford's which was thus first" fired— and 
 the bullet penetrated clean through Hector's hat. 
 The next instant Hardress fired his own pistol: 
 then it immediately struck yourg Hailes with a 
 bewildering and astounding effect, that a third 
 pistol was fired; but in the twinkling of an eye 
 his thoughts were riveted upon another object ; 
 for Clifford sprang at least a couple ot feet up into 
 the air and fell back a corpse upon the green, 
 dewy sward. 
 
 Hailes bounded towards him : Josephine stood 
 aghast, transtixed to the spur — ^tupified by a 
 sudden sense ot the full mngoitude ol the deed 
 which ahe had done. The pistol dropped from her 
 hand ; Hector heard it fall upon the grass — and 
 hastiU picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket, 
 
 " Well done, girl !" he hoarsely muttered, 
 "Well done! jour honour is now sate !" | 
 
 Josephine placed her hand upon her heart, for a 
 pang had shot through it, — a pang as poignant and 
 as excruciating as if Remorse itself, being per- 
 sonified in a substantial shape, had ^^ielded a 
 trenchant falchion and had smitten that heart in 
 twain without killing the wretched youBg lady her- 
 self with the same blow, 
 
 " Courage, Josephine, courage !" said Hector 
 Hardress, in a hoarse quick undertone, while his 
 look was half soothing, half fierce. " Come with 
 
 Meanwhile young Andrew Hailes — with ghast- 
 liness upon his countenance, horror in his eyes, and 
 stupefaction in his soul — had sped to the spot 
 where Theodore Clifford lay stretched upon the 
 Board. Toe youth beheld a daik stain on the 
 shirt-front in the region of the heart: he did not 
 need to touch the body — he knew that his Iriend 
 was dead ! 
 
 " All human aid is useless," said Hector, aa ho 
 approached the spot, followed by Josephine, who 
 went mechanically upon her brother's track. 
 
 " Yes ! — my God, he is dead !" said young 
 Hailes, who was kneeling down over Itie corpsd; 
 then there was a pause of nearly a minute— and 
 the youth suddenly started up, exclaiming, " Just
 
 KS 
 
 AONES; OE, BEAUTY AND FLBASUBB. 
 
 heaven ! this idea that strikes me ! Ko! But 
 
 yes ! My God !" 
 
 " What in the name of heaven do you mean ?" 
 demanded Hardress. 
 
 " It struck me— yes! Oh, yes! — now I re- 
 member !" cried Hailes, as the full recollectioo 
 darted in like vivid lightning upon bis brain : 
 
 " first Clifford's pistol then yours, Mr. Haidresa 
 
 and then instantaneously a third .'" 
 
 "A third?" said Hector coolly. " Bidicaloue! 
 It was the echo of the other." 
 
 The youth was struck by the explanation : an 
 immediate revulsion took place in his ideas— he 
 was staggered — he was convioced — and he said, 
 "Yes, it must have been the echo." 
 
 But he did not pause to reflect at the moment — 
 or else he was too little acquainted with scientific 
 principles to comprehend, that there was nothing 
 in those open flat fields to produce a reverberation. 
 Josephine had given a low groan : but her brother 
 at the same instant quickly opened and closed the 
 lid of his pistol-case which he had snatched up; 
 and the wretched girl was at once awakened to a 
 keen sense of the necessity of exercising the ut. 
 most control over her feelings. 
 
 " Mr. Hardress," said Hailes, in a tone of pro- 
 foundest horror, and the white moonlight rendered 
 his face even more ghastly than that of the corpse 
 on which the same argentine beams were playing, 
 — " this is a shocking occurrence! to be alive one 
 
 the I 
 
 " The same chance might have happened to me," 
 interrupted Hector. " There is no enmity between 
 you and me?" 
 
 " Ob, none ! none !" exclaimed the youth, ac- 
 cepting the hand that was proffered him. " But 
 
 now, nhat are we to do with " and he glanced 
 
 towards the corpse. 
 
 "You two must fly," rejoined Hardress. "1 
 will remain to bear the brunt of it !" 
 
 " Fly ?" echoed Hailes, becoming still more 
 aghast than before. 
 
 " Fly ?" murmured Josephine : and again the 
 lid of the pistol-case was raised and closed with a 
 sudden noise which drowned that piteous expression, 
 at least from the ears of the youth. 
 
 " One moment, Mr. Hailes !" said Hector, who 
 maintained a remarkable presence of mind. " 1 
 must speak to you both separately. Stay here 
 1 will address myself to Godolphin first." 
 
 He dragged rather than led his sister to such a 
 distance as to be beyond earshot of the young man ; 
 and then stopping short, he said, " For heaven's 
 sake, sustain your courage, Josephine! Your 
 honour is now sale— and nothing can happen to 
 you ! You must find your way across the fields — 
 follow yonder lights — tbey will bring you to Nut- 
 ting Hill. Hasten home to Cicely ! You can 
 enter the house by the back-way ! No one will 
 ever know that you were mixed up in this affair ; 
 and to.morrow all London will believe that there 
 was really a Mr. Godolphin who was my second 
 and who has fled to the Continent. Go ! every- 
 thing now depends upon your presence of mind!" 
 
 " But you, Heetor P— you, my dear brother ?" 
 murmured the agonized girl ; " you who have done 
 this on my account ?" 
 
 " Leave me to manage it," he quickly rejoined. 
 "I shall give myselt up to justice " 
 
 "Justice i"^ the echoed, ready to sink down with 
 
 horror at the very word which seemed to conjure 
 up an array of prisons, tribunals, scaffolds, and all 
 kinds of ghastly objects to her imagination. 
 
 " Oh, this is childish !" ejaculated Hector, 
 stamping his foot with impatience. "Fly, I sayt 
 — hasten to the villa ! Every moment is now pre* 
 cious ! I shall surrender myself. It is but sleep- 
 ing a night in the station-house to-morrow I 
 
 give bail before the magistrate— and I am free I 
 Then in six weeks the trial — and I shall be ac- 
 quitted, or else receive a slight punishment, which 
 will be nothing as the honour of the family is now 
 safe. Fly, therefore ! — and for heaven's sake sus- 
 tain your coui age ! Tou have three miles to walk. 
 Be quick !" 
 
 He wrung the hand of his sister, who clung to 
 him in agony for a few moments; and then at bit 
 earnest solicitation she sped away. 
 
 He remained upon the spot for upwards of a 
 minute, until her receding form disappeared behind 
 the hedge of the arljacent field ; and then he sped 
 back to rejoin the youth whom he had left close 
 by the corpse of the murdered man;— for mur- 
 dered Theodore Clifford assuredly was! Hector 
 found young Hailes standing like a statue precisely 
 where they had parted a few minutes back,— his 
 countenance still as ghastly as before— hia features 
 
 " Now, Mr. Hailes," said Hector, " let me give 
 you my advice in your turn. I thought it better 
 that you and Godolphin should depart separately 
 so that there might be the less chance of your 
 capture. And besides, as I thus separately coun- 
 sel you both whither to go, it makes things all the 
 more safe ; because if one be taken, he can confi- 
 dently and truthfully declare that he knows not 
 what has become of the other." 
 
 " And must I leave England ?" asked the 
 young man. " Oh, my poor uncle !" 
 
 " It cannot be helped," interrupted Hardress. 
 "You must at least leave for a while until the 
 affair be blown over. I will see your uncle pre- 
 sently, and will break the tidings to him. Come, 
 Mr. Hailes — you are a man of the world." 
 
 "True!" said the youth, beginning to lift his 
 head. " But— but " 
 
 "And then too, you are not altogether unac- 
 customed to this kind of thing," proceeded Hec- 
 tor. 
 
 " Ob, of course 
 covering himself, 
 mind " 
 
 " You will be the talk of the whole town to. 
 morrow," interjected Hardress, fully comprehend- ■ 
 ing the youth's silly vanity: "you will be a lion 
 with the ladies— for they all ijotingly love every- 
 body who has had anything tc do with a dual. 
 Have you money in your pocket?" 
 
 " Yes— thirty or forty pounds," was the reply. 
 
 " Good ! Then hasten away ! Go in that 
 direction for about half-an- hour— don't lose eight 
 of the lights— and then turn somewhat to the 
 right, and you will gain Netting Hill. Take a 
 cab — go to an hotel in the City— and be off the 
 first thing in the morning by the train to Dover 
 Or better still— you may save a train tonight I 
 But you will see. Write to me from Boulogne ; 
 and I will send you all the news." 
 
 Everything tbat Hector was doing seemed so 
 friendly, that the youth seised his hand and 
 
 said Hailes, still farther re- 
 "One must make up one's
 
 nrujsiiJ it with fetrour, at tlio aame time saying, 
 " But you, Mr. Hardreas— what course will you 
 take ? How can you remove poor Clifford's body, 
 alone and unassiated ?" 
 
 " Unassisted ?" repeated Hector, as if in sur- 
 prise. " Why, there ia the surgeon " 
 
 " The surgeon !" said Hailea, gazing around 
 him in astonishment. 
 
 "Yes — to be sure!" rejoined Hardress, as if he 
 himself were amazed at the question. " Do you 
 think w6 would have fought a duel without having 
 a medical man in readiness ?" 
 
 "Ah! I am glad of that!" ejaculated the 
 youth; "for just now, while you were talking 
 aside with Mr. Godolphin, it struck me that this 
 unfortunate affair would look very much like mur- 
 der " 
 
 " Tranquilliie yourself!" interrupted Hardress : 
 * everything was done formally and properly. The 
 
 •urgeOQ is there waiting my sijnal " 
 
 No. 52.— AQKBi 
 
 "Where?" inquired the youth, straining hia 
 eyes in every direction. 
 
 "Where? Why, there!" exclaimed Hardress; 
 " over by yonder hedge. Do you not see him ?" 
 
 " Ah, I think I do now !" said Hailes : and he 
 spoke no wilful untruth, for in the bewilderment of 
 his imagination he really took some stunted tree 
 for a human form. " But why did be not come 
 up " 
 
 " He waited at a distance until he received a 
 signal from me," rejoined Hector ; "but as I at 
 once saw that poor Clifford was dead, it was use- 
 less to fetch the surgeon to the spot. And now 
 farewell, my young friend. Ah ! by the bye," 
 added Hector, as he shook hands with the youth, 
 " if you should happen to be taken, mind that 
 you did see the surgeon ! — mind that you did 
 see him !" he repeated, Oxing his eyes signifi- 
 cautly upon Andrew's countenance : " or else, 
 remember that it will be the gibbet for both of lA 1"
 
 410 
 
 i; OK, BEAUTY AND PLEASUKB. 
 
 I "My God!" Bail! the youth, scarcely umier- 
 
 i standing what all this meont— scarcely kooniog 
 
 j what to think : and he turned his straining eyes 
 again in the direction of the stunted tree. 
 
 i But there was a dizziness over his sight— ob- 
 
 ' jects that were really stationary seemed to move 
 — and he actually fancied that ho beheld a human 
 form walking along by the side of the hedge in 
 the distance. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! I see him !" he said. " A man 
 
 dressed in black " 
 
 "The same," rejoined Hardress. "And now 
 away with you!' 
 
 There was another hearty shaking of hands ; 
 and then off sped Andrew Hailes in the direction 
 which Hector Hardress bad pointed out. Again 
 did the latter wait until the form was disappear- 
 ing in the distance; and then he hastened off 
 across the fields towards the bye-lane where he 
 had left the cab, — saying to himself, "All precau- 
 tions which human foresight could take, have 
 
 . been adopted, except o»e/ By heaven! it was a 
 
 ' good shot on Josephine's part ! Her skilless ran. 
 
 I dom Itring was better than my practised hand. 
 
 [ And yet how often is this the case !" 
 
 I He sped onward; and in a abort time he 
 reached the cub, which bad been waiting nearly 
 an hour. The driver was surprised and alarmed 
 at beholding only one of tbe four persons return- 
 
 I ing; and be exclaimed, " What has happened, 
 
 I eir?" 
 
 " Just what you suspected, mj good fellow," 
 
 I was the response. " A duel." 
 
 ' "Any one killed, sir f or hurt f" cried the man. 
 "I hope not!" 
 
 "You at least can get into no trouble," ejacu- 
 
 I lated Hector; "and I shall have to add a couple 
 more guineas to those already given. In plain 
 terms, I have killed my opponent. The seconds 
 
 and the surgeon have fled " 
 
 " Ah ! this is a bad job !" exclaimed the driver. 
 "But the surgeon " 
 
 I " He did not come with us— you did not bring 
 him— he arrived by some other means. And now 
 
 I drive through the fields— follow me — 1 will go 
 
 ■ forward to open the gates. We must take up the 
 
 I body." 
 
 " Well," said the man, as he mounted his box, 
 * four guineas ain't a bad fare : but I could have 
 wished to have taken you all four safe home again. 
 And what do you mean to do, sir?" 
 
 " Surrender myself up to justice," rejoined 
 Hector. 
 
 He led the way through the fields, the cab fol- 
 lowing. The fatal spot was reached ; and the 
 body was placed in the vehicle. Hector then as- 
 cended the box, and took his seat by tbe side of 
 the driver, — which being done, the cab proceeded 
 rapidly in the direction of London. As it passed 
 through Netting Hill, Hector said, as if quite in 
 a casual manner, " We will just stop for a moment 
 at the surgeon's ; and I will see if he is returned 
 home — or if like a fool he has fled." 
 
 " Where shall I stop, sir P" asked the cabman. 
 " At the house with that coloured lamp yonder," 
 responded Hardress—" at Mr. G-ilmore's." 
 
 The cab stopped accordingly : Hector leaped 
 down and entered the surgery. Mr. Gilmore was 
 there : Hardress conversed with him for about ten 
 minutes; and before they parted, a roll of bank- 
 
 notes was transferred from Hector's pocket book 
 to tbe surgeon's purse. Hector then took his 
 leave ; and as he reascended to the box, he 
 said in an off hand way to the driver, " It's all 
 right : the doctor has got home safe. 1 did not 
 think after all that he would have been such a fool 
 as to run away ; for in these cases no harm ever 
 befalls the medical man." — And then he mentally 
 ejaculated, " And now the last remaining precau- 
 tion has been taken !" 
 
 " Where am I to drive to next, sir P" asked the 
 cabman. 
 
 " First to Mr. Hailes'— where you delivered the 
 note — then to Lord Windermere's," continued 
 Hector,-" and then to the atation-house." 
 
 But we must now return to Andrew Hailes, 
 whom we left fleeing from the fatal spot where 
 his friend Clifford had fallen. The mind of the 
 young man was in a most confused and excited 
 state, — ideas of horror strangely jumbling with 
 others of a silly vanity. He wished to heaven 
 that tbe tragedy had not occurred — or at least 
 that he had had nothing to with it; and yet he 
 endeavoured to console himself by the reflection 
 that his name would become famous throughout 
 tbe fashionable world in connexion with this 
 afi'air. Yet amidst all the turmoil of his brain 
 there was something which haunted him; and this 
 was the singularly expressive look which Hardress 
 had fixed upon him when he said, " Mind that you 
 did see tbe surgeon ; or else remember that it will 
 be the gibbet for both of us !" 
 
 The vague suspicion that there was something 
 wrong on that point was floating in Andrew's 
 mind ; but be dared not pause to reflect upon it 
 —no, nor to allow that suspicion to gather strength 
 and power. 
 
 He ran on for some while, but almost heedless 
 ot the direction which he pursued ; and indeed he 
 had forgotten the injunctions Hardress gave him 
 in respect to the way which he was to take. He 
 relaxed his pace — he stopped and looked around 
 him. Then he went on again : he remembered 
 something about being enjoined to keep the lights 
 in view ; and he altered his course. Presently ho 
 beheld a dark form leaning against a gate : his 
 first impulse was to start ofl at a tangent and fly 
 in some other direction : but as he again loolfed 
 towards that shape, he recognised the cloak — and 
 he joyously ejaculated, " It is Godolphin !" 
 
 We say loi/ousit/, because he was in that state 
 of mind in which the idea of companionship was 
 a consolation and a relief; and he sped towards 
 the gate. The person leaning there turned abruptly 
 round; and Hailes at once cried, "Ah, it is you, 
 Mr. Godolphin !" 
 
 Josephine could not speak : she was ready to 
 sink beneath the oppressive weight of dread, 
 horror, and remorse. She had lost her way : she 
 was as utterly miserable aaa human creature could 
 possibly be. 
 
 "Why are you waiting hereP" asked Hailes. 
 " I thought that you intended to lly cway as 
 quickly as possible." 
 
 Josephine groaned ; and she clung to the gate 
 for support. 
 
 " For God's sake, tell me what is the matter, 
 Mr. Godolphin ?" said Hailes, now terribly alarmed. 
 " Perhaps you think that this is infinitely more 
 serious than Mr. Hardress gave us to understand ?
 
 A6SE8; OB, EKiUIT AND PLEASUEE. 
 
 411 
 
 — or perhaps jou do not wish to leave the country ? 
 I can assure you I do not !" 
 
 "No— it must bo dreadful for you!" murmured 
 Josephine ; and as there was now a hoarseness in 
 her voice, the natural feminine tones were lost 
 therein. " But let us proceed — we will talk as 
 we go on :" for Josephine was frightened at being 
 alone ; the image of the murdered man appeared 
 to haunt her — and she wanted a companion, 
 
 " Come then," said Hailes : " we may at least 
 proceed a portion of the way together." 
 
 'And you can guide me," said Josephine ; "for 
 I am utterly lost in these parts." 
 
 " Guide you whither ?" asked the youth. 
 
 "Oh! I promised to leave a message at Mr. 
 Hardress* house," answered Josephine, recovering 
 her presence of mind, and remembering the part 
 of Mr. Godolphin which eho had to play ; " and 
 if you can only set me in the right road, I shall 
 be obliged." 
 
 "That will I do cheerfully!" exclaimed the 
 youth; " for now I begiu to comprehend where- 
 abouts we are. But do you not think, Mr. 
 Godolphin," asked Hailes, as he and his compa- 
 nion walked along together, " that you are run- 
 ning a very great risk ? You know what the in- 
 tention of Mr. Hardress was?— he said he should 
 go and bear the brunt of all the consequences of 
 the fatal occurrence " 
 
 " Tes— I know i>," rejoined Josephine : " he 
 has gone to surrender himself up to justice:" — 
 ar.d she could scarcely prevent herself from gasp- 
 ing convulsively. 
 
 " Well then, Mr. Godolphin," exclaimed Hailes, 
 "don't you seo the fearful danger you will incur 
 by going to Mr, Hardress* house? Suppose that 
 by this time he has surrendered himself at some 
 police-station — or at all events ho will have done 
 so long before you can reach his villa " 
 
 'And what then do you apprehend?" asked 
 Josephine, whose thoughts were ogain falling into 
 such confusion and bewilderment she scarcely knew 
 on what point to settle her reflections. 
 
 " Why, what I apprehend is that the police 
 will at once hasten to institute a watch on Mr. 
 Hardress" villa — they will think perhaps that it 
 is very probable one of the seconds may call 
 there " 
 
 " Good heavens ! this is indeed only too true !" 
 murmured Josephine: and she mentally ejacu- 
 lated, " What, in the name of heaven, am I to do ?" 
 
 Again did her mind obtain a certain clearness; 
 and she strove to look her position calmly and 
 deliberately in the face, so that she might decide 
 how she should act. 
 
 "In the first place if I endeavour to return to 
 Cicely," she thought, "1 shall stand a chance of 
 being arrested ; and then what a frightful expo- 
 sure ! In the scc.ind place I dare not proceed in 
 this disguise to Mendlesham House; for what 
 would my father and mother think P and more- 
 over I could not possibly obtain admittance with- 
 out being seen by a number of the servants! 
 What am I to do? I must find an asylum some- 
 where, and endeavour to communicate with Cicely 
 as soon as possible to-morrow; to that she may 
 bring mo my own apparel and relieve me from 
 this cruel embarassment. Yes — this is the only 
 course to be adopted I But where can I find an 
 asylum?" 
 
 For some minutes Josephine and young Hailes 
 had continued their way in silence,— the former 
 making the reflections which we have just recorded 
 — the latter deliberating on the plan which he 
 himself should pursue. At length the silence was 
 broken by Andrew, who inquired, "Well, Mr. 
 Godolphin, what do you intend to do !" 
 
 "I must communicate with Mrs. Hardress either 
 to-night or to-morrow morning," answered Jose- 
 phine. "I promised Hardress to deliver a parti- 
 cular message to his wife. If I could only find 
 
 some safe asylum for the night But do not 
 
 sufi'er me to interfere with your arrangements, Mr. 
 Hailes. You must escape!" 
 
 " It is not more necessary for me to escape, Mr. 
 Godolphin, than for you," replied the youth; 
 and I really think that as accident has again 
 thrown us together, we ought not to separate, but 
 should continue to row in the same boat. For 
 my part I do not at all relish the idea of leaving 
 the country. I would sooner run every risk, as 
 Hardress himself is doing; — and perhaps it may 
 be deemed a piece of selfishness on my part 
 to observe that tee, the seconds, have far less to 
 ipprehend than Hardress himself, who is the prin- 
 cipal, ^^ow, therefore, if be could take the thing 
 
 as coolly as be did " 
 
 What do you mean to infer f" inquired Jose- 
 
 " That the more I look into the matter, the 
 more am I resolved to stay in London and watch 
 the progress of events. I know a means by which 
 
 I could conceal myself " 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed Josephine. 
 " Yes," rejoined Hailes : " and I will conceal 
 you likewise. If you make up your mind to go 
 on the Continent, well and good : but if you wish 
 to communicate first of all with Mrs. Hardress, I 
 ill tell you how it is to be done." 
 "How?" inquired Josephine, eagerly: and all 
 this while, bo it borne in mind, she was studying 
 to assume as much as possible the voice of a man, 
 that Hailes continued utterly unsuspicious of 
 the real truth in reference to her sex. 
 
 I can find you comfortable and secure quarters 
 for the night," said Holies, in explanation of what 
 he had just been oHering; "and in the morning 
 can find a trustworthy person to carry any mes- 
 Bge you choose to Mrs. Hardress— or to go and 
 scertain whether the coast is clear in the neigh- 
 bourhood of her villa; so that perhaps if you only 
 waited until to morrow eveniflg, she might either 
 come and call upon you, or you might go and call 
 pon her that is to say, unless you can accom- 
 plish by writing the mission which Hardress con- 
 - -to you?" 
 
 So," replied Josephine : " I must speak to 
 Mrs. Hardress ! — and what is more, I must see 
 at her own house ! Do you— do you really 
 think, Mr. Hailes, that you could conceal me somo- 
 
 here — until to-morrow evening " 
 
 "I know where we may be accommodated with 
 
 couple of bed-rooms," replied Hailes, " and 
 
 here we may sleep in the utmost security. 
 
 Neither is the house at any great distance; and if 
 
 all the police in London came rapping at the door, 
 
 they would receive such an answer as would send 
 
 J away entirely off the scent." 
 
 Ah, this would be capital!" said Josepaina 
 
 V. ho now tfegan to see ao issue from the embarrass-
 
 413 
 
 AGSE8 ; OB, nEAUTT AWD 
 
 menta and difficultieB in which but a few minutes 
 back she had found herself placed. "If I accept 
 of this asjlum for tonight — and if I remain 
 there quiet all day to-morrow — perhaps to-morrow 
 evenicg 1 mi^ht venture, after dusk, to call upon 
 Mrs. Hardress?" 
 
 " Most assuredly !" ejaculated Hailes. " Hard- 
 ress will be examined before the magistrate to- 
 morrow — he will declare that the seconds have 
 fled to the Continent — and thus the police will give 
 up hunting after us. In short, my dear Mr 
 Godolphin, I think it is much better we should 
 
 do nothing precipitately at all events, I for one 
 
 mean to remain tranquil for the present. I shall 
 communioate with my old uncle to-morrow, and 
 gee what he can do for me. Come! bow is it to 
 be?" 
 
 Hailes had all along been speaking in a very 
 kind manner to Josephine; for he thought within 
 himself, "This poor stripling Godolphin is but a 
 mere child in comparison with me; and I my- 
 self am little better than a boy ! I must do the 
 best I can for him ! Besides, I dare say he be- 
 longs to a good family — the name has a high aris- 
 tocratic savour — and 1 cannot fail in the long run 
 to enlarge my circle of patrician acquaintances, 
 
 Josephine reflected for a few moments; and then 
 she said, " You are sure that I shall not be an 
 encumbrance upon you ?" 
 
 " Not a bit of it !" ejaculated Hailes : " it will 
 give me pleasure to assist you to the utmost of 
 
 " And these friends of your's— or whoever they 
 may be," continued Josephine, somewhat diffi- 
 dently, " will not my presence be putting them to 
 
 any inconvenience 1 mean, do you think that 
 
 I — that— they can dispose of a couple of bed- 
 chambers — separate — all in a moment — without 
 
 any previous warning " 
 
 ' "Trust to me !" cried Hailes; "I know how 
 j to manage everything as nicely os possible. Aod 
 ' now let us quicken our pace ; I perfectly under- 
 stand whereabouts we are. Those tall houses 
 , are in the neighbourhood of Norland Square. 
 Now we must pass round at the back — and i will 
 presently show you how to enter a friend's house 
 without making use of the front door." 
 
 Josephine, though ready to sink with weari- 
 I nees, collected all her remaining energy and 
 I managed to keep pace with young Hailes. In a 
 short time they reached a wall which skirted the 
 gardens at the back of a row of houses, the fronts 
 of which looked upon a street or road diverging 
 from the main route of Notting Hill. 
 
 "Here we are," said Hailes. "And now for 
 the storming of the citadel !" 
 
 " What do you mean ?" inquired Josephine, 
 alike bewildered and alarmed by the phrases he 
 used in respect to gaining admittance into the 
 house of his friends, whoever they were. 
 
 " Can you climb a wall ?" asked the youth. 
 "You need not be afraid of either sarage dog or 
 pistol ; and as for the wall itself, it surely is not 
 very high ! But stay ! I will stoop down. 
 There ! Now stand on my back— raise yourself 
 up — spring upon the wall! That's right ! Now 
 down with you into the garden !" 
 
 All this was done as quickly as the ejaculations 
 themselves burst from the lips of young Hailes : 
 for Josephine saw the necessity of proceeding with 
 
 that degree of mingled promptitude and boldneil 
 which might prevent ber companion from suspect* 
 ing her sex. Hailes leapt lightly up on the wall, 
 and was quickly by Josephine's side within the 
 boundary. 
 
 " So far so good !" he ejaculated in a low tone, 
 " Now let ua see what o'clock it is :" — and having 
 consulted his watch, he said, " It is nine o'clock. 
 How the time has slipped away !" 
 
 "Ate you afraid that your friends may be 
 out ?" inquired Josephine, — " or that they are in 
 bed P" 
 
 " No, no !" ejaculated Hailes : " but I was just 
 thinking of what lisetta might possibly be doing 
 
 "Lisetta?" said Josephine. "That is a aia. 
 gularname! Is it not Italian?" 
 
 " Yes," responded Hailes : and then he added 
 with a low laugh, " I daresay you suspected there 
 was a female in the case ?— and I can assure you 
 that Lisetta is to be relied upon as you might rely 
 on your own brother or sister!" 
 
 " And this Lisetta," said Josephine, " I pre- | 
 
 sume is " she hesitated, and then she forced 
 
 herself to add—" your mistress ?" 
 
 Hailes laughed ; and as the back door of the 
 house was now reached, he knocked gently thereat. 
 No one answered the summons : he opened a 
 door, and advanced a few footsteps into a passage 
 where a light stood upon a side-table. At that 
 very moment a door opened ; and a young female 
 made her appearance. She has been already in- 
 troduced to our readers : but if their memory 
 should fail we may refresh them by observing that 
 Lisetta was at one time the confidential lady's- 
 maid of the Marchioness di Mirano at Florence, 
 She had a dark complexion and a superb pair of 
 eyes ; but she could not be called either handsome 
 or pretty. She had a look which was interesting 
 hen a emile was upon he}^ countenance; but 
 hen her features were serious, there was some- 
 thing sinister in her regards. At one time she 
 ppeared to bo full of mischievous mirth and vo- 
 luptuousness — at another time to have a serious, 
 fixed and rigid look, as if her mind were intent 
 upon some very important subject. Her figure 
 was finely formed and was rich in its contours : 
 ostume was exceedingly neat — and the dress 
 in which she now appeared, was that which was 
 worn by young ladies of moderate means in her 
 native land. 
 
 Ah ? is it you, Andrew ?" she said, in a low 
 
 voice: and she spoke English tolerably well. 
 
 How you frightened me! But you are not 
 
 " No — I have a friend here," replied Hailes : 
 and as he thus spoke be turned round towards 
 Josephine, who was standing upon the threshold 
 of the doorway. 
 
 At that very instant it struck Andrew Hailes 
 that he beheld some one look over the wall at the 
 xtremity of the garden, and then disappear again, 
 s if he had leaped up for the purpose. Smitten 
 with apprehension, he seized hold of Josephine's 
 cloak and dragged her quickly into the passage, 
 at once closing the door behind her. 
 
 What is the matter ? " she asked, also smitten 
 with terror. 
 
 I saw some one look over the wall," responded 
 tes ; " and I could almost swear that the
 
 iGNES; OR, BEAVTT 
 
 rLEASPEE. 
 
 413 
 
 moonbeams shone upon the glazed edging of a 
 I's hat. Go quick, Lisetta, and see what 
 
 The Italian girl hastened to obe; the mandate 
 she had just received : and she passed out into the 
 little garden. On reaching the extremity, she in- 
 quired, " Is any one there ?" 
 
 The head of a policeman was now thrust above 
 the wall ; and he said, " It struck me that I saw 
 some one leaping over here just now : but I was at 
 
 a considerable distance — I was not sure " 
 
 " I wish you would mind your own business," 
 was Lisetta's ready response. " Some one did 
 leap over the wall : but it was not without my 
 knowledge. Will that answer suffice ?" 
 
 " Quito sufficient, my pretty girl," replied the 
 constable ; " and if it's nothing more than that, 
 there's no harm done. Only, don't you see, we 
 officers are obliged to look out ; and if we do ob- 
 serve anything suspicious " 
 
 " No doubt," answered Lisetta, " you must do 
 your duty. But pray keep my secret, or I shall 
 lose my character. Take this, and go and regale 
 yourself." 
 
 She gave the constable a half-crown piece : he 
 thanked her, assuring her at the same time that 
 he was now perfectly blind to the fact of a person 
 having leapt over the wall. He then disappeared, 
 and Lisetta tripped back into the house, where 
 Hailea and Josephine were anxiously awaiting her 
 in the passage. 
 
 "Come in here," she said, opening the door of a 
 little back-parlour where there was no candle, and 
 the moonbeams could only penetrate dimly through 
 the window-draperies. 
 
 Hailes and Josephine at once crossed the 
 threshold— the door was closed— and Lisetta said, 
 " Make yourselves easy— the man has gone." 
 
 "But was he really a policeman?" inquired 
 Hailes. 
 
 " He was," responded Lisetta. 
 
 " Good heavens !" murmured Josephine ; " we 
 are lost ! we shall be arrested !" 
 
 " Who is this boy ? and what is he so frightened 
 at P" demanded Lisetta. " Tell me what you have 
 been doing, Andrew — though I suppose it is only 
 some harum-scarum game — breaking lamps or 
 wrenching off knockers ?" 
 
 " It is nothing of the sort, I am sorry to say," 
 replied Hailes. " A duel has been fought, Lisetta 
 and a man killed. But do not ask me for any, 
 explanations now. Tell me what said that con- 
 stable?" 
 
 "You are all safe, I will stake my existence!" 
 responded Lisetta. " Fortunately the constable 
 only saw one of you leap the wall. I judged that 
 there was something wrong— I was on my guard— 
 and I have told the constable a tale which com- 
 pletely satisfied him. Do not therefore trouble 
 yourself any further on this point." 
 
 "Excellent Lisetta!" ejaculated Hailes, patting 
 the young woman under the chin : " you are 
 ever ready for emergencies, and incomparable at 
 expedients !" 
 
 "And now what can I do for you t" asked Li- 
 setta. 
 
 " Give us supper in the first instance, and some 
 mulled wine, for we are perished with the cold and 
 our feet are wet with the dew. Then prepare 
 
 " You must not remain in this room," said Li- 
 setta quickly, as if suddenly struck by an idea. 
 " Come with me ! Tread softly !" 
 
 "Why? what is the matter?" inquired Hailes j 
 while poor Josephine felt her heart palpitating 
 violently. 
 
 " Only that there is an Inspector of Police io 
 the front parlour — but as a guest, mind I— and you 
 have nothing to fear if you act cautiously." 
 
 Josephine had scarcely been able to prevent her- 
 self from giving utterance to a groan at the an- 
 nouncement relative to the Inspector : but during 
 the past three hours she had so many times expe- 
 rienced the necessity of summoning her fortitude 
 to her aid and maintaining her self-possession, that 
 the task became less and less difficult on each suc- 
 cessive occasion. It was therefore with no outward 
 betrayal of emotion that she accompanied Hailes, 
 who was already following Lisetta from the room. 
 The Italian girl, taking the candle in the passage, 
 led the way up a decently carpeted staircase to 
 the second floor; and there she threw open a door 
 leading into a small but neat and comfortable bed- 
 chamber. She at onoe applied the candle to the 
 firing which was ready laid in the grate; and then 
 she said, " I will now go and fetch you some 
 supper." 
 
 Thereupon she quitted the room ; but in less 
 than five minutes she returned, laden with the 
 materials for an excellent repast. 
 
 "Now, my dear Andrew," she said, "you must 
 make yourself and your friend as comfortable as 
 you can. I cannot revisit you again this evening; 
 but 1 have brought you everything that I think 
 you will require. You need be under no appre- 
 hension for your safety ; and the first thing in the 
 morning I shall be ready to do whatsoever I can to 
 serve you." 
 
 " You are an excellent girl, Lisetta !" exclaimed 
 Hailes. " And now just one kiss " 
 
 " You remember, Mr. Hailes," said Josephine, 
 in a low quick voice, as she suddenly caught her 
 companion by the arm, " that you promised me a 
 separate apartment ?" 
 
 " Ah, true ! I had forgotten ! My dear Lisetta," 
 he continued, turning towards the Italian girl, 
 " you do not fancy that young gentlemen like us 
 can herd together like common people I — and 
 therefore you must furnish us each with a cham- 
 ber." 
 
 "Impossible!" exclaimed the girl. "Madame 
 has guests, and every room will be occupied." 
 
 " Then I must abandon this one totally and en- 
 tirely to my friend here," resumed Hailes ; " and 
 you, my sweet Lisetta, must receive me in your 
 own bower of love " 
 
 " That also is impossible I" interruptedthe Ita- 
 lian girl, " No 1 you really must put up with 
 these narrow accommodations for once. Tor secu- 
 rity's sake I shall lock your door and take away the 
 key. Good night." 
 
 Josephine started up from her chair ; she was 
 about to give vent to some ejaculation proclaiming 
 the impossibility of her being locked in all night 
 ith Andrew Hailes; but she suddenly recollected 
 all the perils which environed her — how a police- 
 had looked over the wall, and how an Inspec- 
 ras in the front parlour down-stairs; so that 
 she sank hack again upon the seat without speak- 
 ing a word ; and as she heard the key turning in
 
 lU 
 
 ANI> PLEASUBE. 
 
 and 
 
 Ihe lock, Andrew Eailes exclaimed with a laugh, 
 "Lieotta is as careful of our safety as we ourselves 
 could be! At all events she is resolved that I 
 shall not steal forth presently and find my way to 
 her chamber !" 
 
 CHAPTEE LXXVIII. 
 
 THE Cr EN TIE MAN IN BLACK. 
 
 It was on the day following the memorable inci> 
 dents which we have been relating in the last few 
 chapters, and between the hours of noon and one 
 o'clock, that Mr. and Mrs. Timperley were engaged 
 in shopping at the West End. They were not 
 using their carriage on the present occasion : they 
 were on foot— and Mrs. Timperley leant upon her 
 husband's arm. Indeed, they were taking a walk 
 together ; and the lady was availing herself of the 
 opportunity to induce the gentleman to make 
 divers purchases, against which he offered no 
 objection, for he was in a particularly good humour 
 on the present occasion. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Timperley," said his w"ife, as they 
 walked slowly along a fashionable street, looking 
 in at the shop-windows, "it is quit 
 get you out like this; for I am sure that 
 little together in the day-time— you are always so 
 closely attending to your business " 
 
 " And if I had not attended closely to it, Mrs. 
 Timperley," replied her husband, "I should not 
 myself able to gratify all your whims 
 !- which I am sure I am doing with 
 pleasure : much less should I have been able to 
 give Cicely a dower of thirty thousand pounds a 
 twelvemonth ago." 
 
 " Well, it was very generous of you, Mr. Tim- 
 perley," said his wife ; " and I wondered that you 
 should have displayed such liberality. 1 don't 
 mean to say, you know, that I think you illiberal 
 — but I fancied you liked your money a leetle too 
 
 " My dear, one must be libera! now and then," 
 interrupted Mr. Timperley, with some little degree 
 of curtness. "However, Cicely was a good girl— 
 and we considered it a very good match— and so I 
 did not grudge the thirty thousand pounds. Yet 
 it was a large sum— a very large sum. Ah ! only 
 think if that Morton Evelyn was alive now! — 
 what a nice thing I could make of it by telling 
 him where he could find the very certificate which 
 was 60 much wanted at the time and which could 
 have filled up the gap " 
 
 "Ah, hy (he bye, talking of that certificate," 
 said Mrs. Timperley, who, as the reader may have 
 perceived, was partially admitted into some of her 
 husband's secrets, but was unacquainted with 
 others, " did you ever find it again ? You remem. 
 her that very shortly after it was brought to you 
 by the old clerk of Bloomdale, you missed it 
 from your office " 
 
 " No, I never found it," replied Mr. Timperley. 
 "It was a strange thing — for 1 am the last man 
 in the vvuild to lose or mislay papers. But I re- 
 rcemhnv that just about that time our dear Cicely 
 interccdud on old Mr. Barriogton's behalf, and 
 begt;ed mo to give up that document, you know— 
 I think told you about it " 
 
 " Yes — I remember," said Mrs. Timperley. 
 
 "Well," continued her husband, "I had to 
 
 search and hunt everywhere for that document I 
 
 turned over quantities of papers — and I suppose 
 that the little certificate must have got mixed up 
 with some of them. But it will doubtless tarn 
 up one of these days ; though I believe that it is as 
 good as useless— for no doubt Morton Evelyn has 
 long been dead " 
 
 " And if he should happen to make his appear- 
 ance," said Mrs. Timperley, — "if he »Ao«W hap- 
 pen, I repeat, just for supposition's sake Do 
 
 look at that tall gentleman in black, who has just 
 passed us. How he did stare at you ! — 'and what 
 
 " I didn't notice it, Mrs. Timperley. Doubt- 
 less he is some client— and he may wonder that 
 I did not bow. But what were you going to 
 
 "Ob, I remember!" ejaculated Mrs. Timperley. 
 " Suppose Morton Evelyn should turn up one of 
 these days— just let us imagine such a thing, — 
 would you not be ready to kill yourself with 
 vexation for having lost that certificate?" 
 
 " Why, my dear, how foolish you are !" inter- 
 jected Mr. Timperley. "I have only just got to 
 write to the parson or the parish clerk at Bloom- 
 dale in Warwickshire; and for a certain fee I 
 receive in course of post another copy of the same 
 entry in the register." 
 
 " Ah, to be sure ! I didn't think of that !" said 
 Mrs. Timperley. " But I do declare, here is the 
 tall gentleman in black again ! He has juit 
 passed us!— he gave you such a peculiar look 
 from under the broad brim of his hat !" 
 
 "Bo you mean that tall gentleman who is now 
 looking in at the bookseller's window ?" inquired 
 Timperley,— "the one who has his back towards 
 us?" 
 
 "Yea— the same," responded Mrs. Timperley. 
 " Y'ou should have seen that look !" 
 
 " I don't recollect him," observed the lawyer. 
 musing and reflecting. " I can't see his face- 
 but that figure— no ! I certainly don't know him I 
 But Ah ! what is this ? Lo.d Mendlesham !" 
 
 Mrs. Timperley flung her eyes in the direction 
 indicated by her husband ; and she beheld lord 
 Mendlesham making signs, and at the same time 
 leaning half-way out of his carriage window to 
 order his coachman to drive up to the spot where 
 the lawyer was now baiting. His lordship was 
 evidently much excited ; and the Timperleys won- 
 dered what could possibly be the cause. 
 
 " Good heavens ! have you not heard the 
 news?" demanded the nobleman, as the equipage 
 dashed up to the side of the kerbstone. 
 
 " What news ?" exclaimed Timperley, who, aa 
 well as his wife, experienced a sudden terror 
 
 "But your niece is not ignorant of it !" cried 
 Mendlesham. 
 
 " Do, for heaven's sake, speak, my lord !" said 
 Timperley: "you alarm me! What has hap- 
 
 " There has been a duel," replied Mendlesham, 
 " between Hector and a certain Theodore Clif- 
 ford " 
 
 " A duel ?" ejaculated Mr. and Mrs. Timperley, 
 as if in the same breath. "But your lordship's 
 son " 
 
 "Hector is alive! he is unhurt in body— but —
 
 AGSES; OE, BEAUIT AUD PLEASURE. 
 
 H5 
 
 but In short, Mr. Ximperley, Clifford fell dead 
 
 upon the field !" 
 
 "Ah, well!" said the lawyer, now suddenly re- 
 gaining his wonted self possession : "it is a com- 
 fort to think that if one of the two were destined 
 to fall, it was Clifford and not Mr. Hardress. 
 That Clifford was a villain ! — he seduced and ran 
 away with a young lady I was more or less in- 
 terested in — a Miss Lister " 
 
 "Yes, yes— I heard of it!" exclaimed Mendle- 
 sham. " At one time he aspired to the hand of 
 my daughter— but I would not listen to it " 
 
 " And 80 he is killed ?" said Mr. Timperley. 
 " But what about Hector himself ? I beg your 
 lordship's pardon — I meant the Honourable Mr. 
 Hardress. For though he is my nephew," added 
 the lawyer obsequiously, " yet I flatter myself that 
 I never presume " 
 
 " No, no, Mr. Timperley— you do not," ejaculated 
 the nubleman. " But Hector has surrendered 
 himself — he has appeared before the magis- 
 trate " 
 
 " Ah, indeed, my lord! that was inconsiderate !" 
 said Mr. Timperley. " Ho should have coosulted 
 either your lordship as his father — or me as an 
 attorney " 
 
 " Well, at all events," interjected Mendlesham, 
 
 " the mischief is done and perhaps, after all, 
 
 Hector adopted the wisest course; for it seems 
 that everything was perfectly fair and straightfor- 
 ward." 
 
 " Ah, I am glad of that !" ejaculated Timperley ; 
 " though I could not for a moment suppose that 
 Mr. Hardress is capable of acting otherwise. But 
 your lordship seems to know the particulars ?" 
 
 " The bare outline !" ejaculated the noble- 
 man. " Mr. G-ilmore — a surgeon of Netting Hill 
 — came to me just now in a hurry, and told 
 me what had happened. He attended upon the 
 ground " 
 
 " And who were the seconds ?" asked Mr. Tim- 
 perley. 
 
 " A Mr, Hailes and a Mr. Godolphin," replied 
 the nobleman. " t don't know either of them " 
 
 " And Lord AVindermere— does he as yet know 
 of the catastrophe ?" 
 
 " It seems that the body of the unfortunate 
 young man was taken to his father's house last 
 evening : but his lordship himself was out of 
 town — he was immediately telegraphed for — but 
 he only arrived this morning." 
 
 " And how was it," inquired Timperley, "that 
 your lordship was kept in the dark until just now ?" 
 
 " Ah ! doubtless the fault lay with your niece 
 Cicely," rejoined the nubleman. " In fact I am 
 iuie it did : but we must not blame her— for my 
 
 daughter Josephine was staying with her, and it 
 appears that Josephine was so dreadfully excite 1 
 and shocked that Cicely was up with her all nighi. 
 Josephine told mo this herself; for she just no 7 
 returned homo, at the very minute Gilmore waj 
 taking his leave." 
 
 " Ah ! then, poor Cicely had so much upon her 
 mind in one way or another," said the lawyer, 
 " that it is no wonder if she omitted to send a 
 communication to me or her aunt. But where is 
 your lordship going now f" 
 
 " The case is over at the police-court," replied 
 Mendlesham; " and Hector is committed for trial. 
 But he is to be bailed. It was Gilmore who came 
 and told me all this ^" 
 
 " And I presume that your lordship," exclaimed 
 Timperley, " is now going to the police-court " 
 
 " Yes— to give my recognizances for Hector's 
 appearance," rejoined MencUestiam. 
 
 " Does he require an additional surety ?'" asked 
 the lawyer. 
 
 "Yes — there must be two," responded tho noble- 
 man : " but I sent Gilmore to bid my jeweller 
 hasten to tho court for tho purpose ; or else it 
 would have been opportune that I should thus 
 meet with you. — Drive on !" 
 
 In obedience to this ejaculation, the coachman 
 touched the horses with his whip, and the equipage 
 dashed away. Mr. and Mrs. Timperley stood 
 gnzing after it, as if by watching the retreating 
 wheels they should thence gaio any additional in- 
 sight into the affair of which they had just re- 
 ceived a meagre outline. 
 
 " Ought you not to go to tho court and see 
 Hector ?" at length inquired Mrs. Timperley. 
 
 " Well, perhaps I ought. And yet I don't 
 know ! It his lordship had wanted me, he would 
 havo offered to take me in his carriage." 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated Mrs. Timperley : " tho gentle- 
 man in black again !" 
 
 " Where ?" demanded her husband. 
 
 But there was no need for the lady to give any 
 reply ; for scarcely was the question put, when tho 
 tall gentleman in black, stepping up at once, con •. 
 fronted the lawyer, on whom be bent a look 
 which made t'ae conscience-stricken man recoil 
 from the recognition which took place with light- 
 ning vividness. 
 
 " Good heavens ! is it possible f " murmured 
 Timperley. " Morton Evelyn !" 
 
 "Yes— Morton Evelyn, if you will," responded 
 the deep-toned voice of the gentleman in black, 
 "But you know likewise that I am at last ia 
 reality what twenty years ago I falsely though,' 
 myself for a fleeting dreana-like space! -I tUT. 
 Lord Ormsby !" 
 
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