untouched; with that, I sprung upon him, and we had a severe tussle, for he was a strong man, and I was nearly overcome. A moment I gasped for breath-I saw him fumbling for something at his girdle-I guessed what it was; and in an instant, while my hand was disengaged, I raised my trusty bludgeon, and felled him with a blow, from which he dropped never to rise again. I waited not, as you may believe, to know more, but fled as fast as my legs could carry me; and thinking no danger could betide you, honoured General, from that quarter, I consulted my own safety alone; but, somehow, I have been a miserable man ever since; always expecting to be taken up, and hoping little from a true relation of the facts, as there were no witnesses to the transaction, and my word would go for nothing; for who would believe Corrie Lovel the gipsy?

"After a time, I came skulking back, in hopes of seeing you, honoured General. I thought as how I should be easier in mind if I could converse with you, and tell you my story; but you had left the Hall, and I could

not learn where you were gone; and then, indeed, I was a very wretched man, for I had not a friend to look to in the world, and I felt as if every man's hand was against me. The instant I heard of your return, I came here with speed, and have now eased my mind of a heavy load."

"Your story, for many reasons, Corrie, is one which fills me with astonishment. I cannot disbelieve your words,-why should I?-and they at once explain and confirm a circumstance which happened to myself, that renders it, indeed, one of the utmost interest and consequence to me. As you relate the story, you

stand exonerated from the foul crime of which you accuse yourself; since, certainly, if your words are true, you only defended your own life."

"Honoured General, have you ever found me out in a lie ?"

"I never have, Corrie; neither do I believe I have cause to distrust you on the present occasion. Nevertheless, it might, as you say, go hard with you, were you tried by the law for

this offence; but the whole business is involved in mystery, and appears to me to be connected with another event of more recent date. I should advise you, therefore, to keep out of sight at present. Time brings foul and fair to light, and I do not despair yet of rendering you another service, and making it clearly appear, from corroborative evidence, that your story is strictly true."

"You do not then, honoured General, charge me with murder ?" said Corrie Lovel, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

"Certainly not, Corrie; I repeat, you only defended your own life."

"Well, General, you saved that life once before, and now you have, as a body may say, saved it a second time; Heaven bless you and prosper you, and all belonging to you! and so Corrie humbly takes his leave."

It was some time before General Montgomery could recover from the surprise into which this extraordinary account had thrown him. Here, then, was a providential discovery which developed the machination that had been formed

against him; and though he did not positively know by whom, his suspicions glanced at a quarter to which he could easily direct his inquiries. As his honour depended on the investigation of the affair, he determined on leaving no means unresorted to, that might detect the guilty. In doing this, however, he owed it to Corrie Lovel's safety to be cautious of exposing him to unjust suspicion.

After mature deliberation, General Montgomery decided, in consideration of his loved niece's happiness, to impart this astonishing narrative to Lord Mowbray and Colonel Pennington, under a promise of the strictest confidence. He felt he owed it to Lady Emily, to satisfy Lord Mowbray's mind concerning the rumour which had gone abroad respecting him. Accordingly he imparted to them the avowal that Corrie had made, and he added, addressing Lord Mowbray, "The power thus unexpectedly afforded me of clearing away the dark surmise that attached to me, is doubly precious, as it enables me to give you the

hand of Emily, and no longer to postpone your

union."

The joy of all parties was thus rendered complete; and the pious and reflecting mind of Lady Emily failed not to see the mighty hand who can conduct us through the most intricate paths, and bring light out of darkness.

Lord Mowbray wrote to his friend Mr. Altamont, to request him to officiate at his approaching wedding. Joyfully he obeyed the summons. To him, likewise, the late wonderful events were communicated, and they obtained all his warmest sympathies.

"But you must not," said he, " in the fulness of your happiness forget, that to allow such delinquents as those who acted in this business to pass undiscovered, would be positively wrong: too much goodness becomes weak

"Neither do I intend it," said the General. “As soon as Emily's nuptials have taken place, I will vigorously pursue my inquiries."

"So be it, then," he replied; "and let us fix

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