the couch; a silver crucifix was placed on the breast of the corpse; a vase of holy water

stood near the head of the bed.

They commenced the solemn prayers of the Romish Church; but the faltering tones of Clifford ceased, his stifled sobs alone were heard: it was unpriestly to betray such weakness, but he was but human, and he could not remain there and coldly and calmly repeat the formula prescribed over the murdered son of his loved Magdalene; he must wrestle in secret with this twofold grief ere he ventured on the task of consoling his wretched brother.

We must quit the old Bury, and have a peep at the occupants of the prettiest rustic dwelling that was ever reared-the very realisation of a cottage fit for love to inhabit. It is hidden in the depth of a wood, with just sufficient clearance around it to admit of a delicious garden being laid out with great taste the said garden is surrounded by a leafy screen of evergreens, that rise as high

:

as the lowly roof. One can scarcely believe that brick and mortar compose the building, it is so thickly covered with luxuriant creepers. There are but three inmates in this bowerdwelling an elderly woman, evidently a foreigner, an old labourer, and a beautiful girl, scarcely eighteen. She is watching now the lengthening shadows, and anon she caresses a rosy boy, some three months old. She presses him to "This night, my child,

her heart, and murmurs.

we shall rest beneath your father's roof. This night he will place you in the arms of his father, and ask him to bless his firstborn grandchild."

It was a beautiful picture, that young madonnalooking mother, bending over the lovely boy. So thought the old, foreign-looking nurse that leant over her, and the sunburnt labourer who rested on his spade, and stood looking at her, wondering who she could be that had come within the last week to reside at the cottage. He had been labouring since daybreak to repair the ravages which the night storm had committed, and was preparing to depart in order to share in the merriment at Woodleigh. They had heard

nothing of the catastrophe at the Bury. None of the servants knew of the arrival of these new comers, the forest cottage being distant at least a mile from the Manor House.

Evening had come, with its soft, beautiful shadows, its twilight stillness, and its soothing calm. The young mother had placed her infant in its cradle, and was kneeling by the side of the slumbering child, when her quick, listening ear caught the sound of approaching footsteps. She had barely time to rise ere the door of the apartment was hastily opened, and a man entered, so muffled in his cloak that it was at first impos-sible to distinguish him. The visitor, flinging aside his roquelaire, confronted her. The girl started back-he grasped her arm, and, in a low, hoarse tone, muttered her name, and then looked towards the sleeping boy. She fell at his feetclung to his knees. She was at first speechless from terror-scared by the wild, revengeful look he cast towards her child.

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Auguste!" she at last exclaimed in French, Harm him not-he is your nephew!"

"And the living proof of our dishonour!"

Isabel, I have at last tracked you to your haunt. You must return with me quit this accursed house this very hour-we have not an instant to lose. Come! come!" He endeavoured to drag her from the room; she burst from him, and, rushing to her infant, said

"No, Auguste! You shall not drag me away. My child and I have been sheltered here when you forsook us.”

"Aye! sheltered here by Gerald Raymond, the betrothed of the fair and rich Isabel Talbot, who will spurn you from these doors when she learns the tale of your disgrace, and knows that your betrayer is her husband."

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Auguste, I solemnly swear

"Girl, your oaths are unavailing. Gerald Raymond has deserted you. Here-read this letter from his affianced bride, which I have intercepted, and see how vain are your hopes, how worthless your assertions!"

Isabel took the paper; she read it through with a calmness that seemed to her brother unnatural, and then replied

"I swear to you, Auguste, by the honour of

H

our ancient name, by our holy faith, that I am

wedded to Gerald Raymond."

"Can you prove it?"

"He will prove it ; for this night my child and I shall be acknowledged. We shall kneel to that proud man, the father of my Gerald, and ask his blessing and his forgiveness. Auguste! Auguste! do not look so horror-stricken; it is true. Oh, my brother, speak to me-say that you believe me !

"Would that it were false!" muttered her brother, who trembled in every limb; his face was livid-an expression of remorse and horror by turns passed over his features. Isabel grasped his arm; she could not utter a word, but fixed her eyes on him. He still muttered "Would that it were false ! His wife-his wife! Oh, God! it cannot be. No-no! Gerald Raymond was guilty; he deceived me. Isabel, you wish to screen him, to cheat me of my revenge. are not his wife; he denied his marriage to me when I sought him after your flight."

You

"It was to screen me and himself from the anger of his father and the wiles of the Abbé