form a conjecture as to his whereabouts. He sat down on a rock beside him, and looked fearfully in all directions. Every breath of wind that swept by, he mistook for the voice of an officer-every bush around him, he imagined a pursuerhe was fairly frantic. In his particular instance, the truth of the Universalist doctrine, regarding every crime producing its own punishment, so far as reflection and remorse goes, was fully verified-and his agony was, for the time, almost that of the damned.

At length it occurred to his mind that it would not do for him to remain there. That, to become benighted in such a place, and be forced to go prowling about for shelter, would of itself be sufficient to excite suspicion, and that the best method of preventing such from falling on him, would be to return to his usual pursuits, and act as if nothing extraordinary had occurred. Then he thought of the impossibility of his being able to appear calm and unconcerned-and the bare idea of being forced to listen to, and join in conversation regarding the murder, frightened him beyond measure. Then he cursed the hour in which he engaged in it-immediately on doing so he reflected that it was the only resource left him, and that had he neglected, Moodie would have betrayed himself and colleagues. This led him to curse afresh Ferrars, the Fraternity, Republicanism, and all connected with his misfortune, and finally, his surcharged feelings found relief in a flood of tears. None but Atlas could have lifted the world. Any person possessing a less portion of physical strength than this celebrated character, who should have attempted a similar feat would have been crushed beneath its weight, and instead of eliciting sympathy, would have drawn forth but laughter for his attempt. Little men should confine themselves only to what they can compass, and never make an effort beyond their strength. This applies equally well with respect to men

of weak minds, as bodies-they should never commence an undertaking, for which, from the peculiar construction of their mind they are incapacitated.

After spending an hour or two in unavailing regrets, our fugitive arose, and began to think of the best method of regaining the road which he had left. This was now no easy matter, for in his headlong flight he had paid very little attention to the particular course which he was pursuing, and had now not the slightest idea with regard to the direction in which the town lay. However, as there was a necessity for his doing something, he began to retrace his steps, but not with the same rapidity as before.

He had not gone 100 yards, when he observed a man running after him. Predisposed as his mind was to imagine himself pursued, he immediately conceived the idea that the person behind was a law officer charged with his arrest, and under the influence of that idea, his hair was erect, and increasing his pace to a run, he began clearing the ground as rapidly as when he first sat out in his flight. The man behind, who had also lost his way, and wished to obtain directions from Fergusson regarding it, now quickened his pace, and not content with that, halloed after our hero to stop. But instead of this having the desired effect, it only tended to increase the fugitive's speed, for it confirmed his first suspicions with regard to the character of his pursuer.

Panting, sweating, and staggering with exhaustion, he rushed on, till at length, gaining sight of the main road, and looking round, and finding his pursuer had disappeared, he once more breathed freely. But he was terribly spent. He had not proceeded along the road very far, when he saw a person standing before him, at the distance of five or six hundred yards, and some dark object extended at his feet. Instinctively he stopped. This inanimate object, appeared to be

a human body. "Can it be Moodie ?" he thought, while a convulsive shudder crept through his frame. But no, it could not very well be him, for this was not the spot where Moodie fell-it was nearer to the city. Presently, he observed the man before him stoop down, and take up the corpse, for such it was, and with much difficulty drag it to a cottage, which stood in a field at some distance from the road. Now was his chance to pass, and availing himself of it, he walked rapidly forward, until he arrived at the spot where the corpse had been lying. There was a pool of coagulated blood, and the marks of footsteps in the road, as if a great crowd had been recently on the spot. He turned sick at the sight; "this must be my victim," he thought-" the horse has carried him thus far towards the city before he fell; that must have been the way of it." Concluding from this that the road would soon be beset with parties in search of the assassins, he began to think that he bad better discover some less frequented route to the city, and immediately after, hearing the sound of horses' feet behind him, it decided him, and he again took to the fields.

But the route was circuitous and difficult-and at length, the heat of the sun, his fears, and the fatigue he had undergone, all combined to overcome him, and after wandering about several hours, with his eyes bloodshot, his lips parched, and the foam standing in his mouth, he advanced to the door of a cottage for the purpose of demanding a drink of water, and a few moments' rest.

As he did so, he heard the sound of voices within. He paused, for the tones of one of the speakers was familiar to him. Stealthily creeping up to the window, he looked in. By this time, the voices had ceased, but the sight that met his view was so surpassing strange, that he stood spell-bound, and unable to move; and determined to gratify his curiosity, even

should he compromise his safety, he remained motionless at the window, scarcely daring to breathe.

He beheld within, a young woman, of great beauty, sitting rigid and still; her face pale, and every feature in that state of placid repose, which characterizes the cold unchanging beauty of the marble Venus. Her eyes were closed, and her lips slightly parted, disclosing her white and even teeth beneath their ruby barriers.

Beside her, his hands outstretched above her head, but not touching it, and his countenance exhibiting that peculiar expression, denoting the intense earnestness or abstraction of the mind, stood a young man, whose very being seemed wound up and absorbed in the unhallowed rite which he was performing. Intense silence reigned within; nothing could be heard but their deep drawn and heavy breathing, and the whole scene looked like the performance of some of those dark, forbidden rites, practiced by the Magicians and Necromancers of old.

THE

CHAPTER III.

BROTHERS

RECONCILED.

"Is not my arm of all-sufficient length," &c.-KING RICHARD II.

To explain the mystery attached to this scene, we must return to the point at which we left our story at chapter I.

On hearing the step which came to the door, William Rodolphe suddenly paused in his operations, and rapidly passing his hand before St. George, as well as his brother, he said to the latter, "You have now forgotten every thing that has taken place in this room since I entered it. You may try to recollect, but you cannot recall a single circumstance. You feel a strong attachment towards me which nothing will overcome." Then passing his hands upwards, he pronounced the magic words, "all right!" and in a moment both St. George and the younger Rodolphe stood possessed of all their mental powers; a confused vague feeling hung over the mind of the latter, which he could not analyze-but this was all.

The elder Rodolphe then observed to his brother that there was some one at the door seeking admittance. The latter looked at him stupidly and vaguely in reply, till comprehending his meaning, he bid the person outside come in, the Biologist at the same moment, unturning the bolt.

A man dressed in the ordinary Canadian costume entered. He spoke not, but going up to Edmund Rodolphe, he made the signal of the League.

“Ah,” said Edmund, responding by a similar sign, “you