merely going across the water, and would bring back her little charge in a quarter of an hour. The nurse's husband returning home soon after the boat had left the shore, shouted and made signals to Gunthorpe to put about, pointing to the sky, to indicate the probability of bad weather; but while he was thus employed, a sudden and heavy storm of rain rendered the little bark invisible; Gunthorpe, who was an expert seaman, took advantage of his movements being thus effectually shrouded, ran over to the island, jumped ashore, and set the boat afloat again, with her sail so fixed as that the wind, which was momentarily increasing, must inevitably carry her out to sea. From that day nothing more was ever heard upon the Hampshire coast, either of the boat, or those who were on board it. Nettletop and his wife stated all that they knew of the occurrence; as the storm came on suddenly and heavily, and continued for some time, it was concluded that the boat having been upset by some unfortunate accident, both Gunthorpe and the child had been drowned; and as there was not the smallest suspicion of foul play, and no one to contest the claim of the next legal heir, Gideon Welbeck succeeded in due time to the possession of the Manor-house estate.

But the hapless orphan was not destined to fall a victim to the villains who had thus plotted its destruction. Fortunately for his preservation, the sail was soon blown away by the violence of the wind, and his little ark, though it was driven a considerable way out to sea, still swam upon the troubled waters: Gunthorpe, not knowing how long he himself might be compelled to remain on board, had put some water and provisions in the boat, which afforded sustenance to the child, who crept under the half-deck for shelter, and thus alternately sleeping and waking, and crying itself to sleep again, was at length, after the lapse of a night and a day, picked up at sea by a frigate, commanded by Captain Tenby, then under orders to proceed to Canada with all possible despatch. The child could only speak enough to declare that its name was Henry, and lisp a few words, which were insufficient to afford any clue to its place of residence, the name of its parents, or the cause of its being thus driven out to sea without any companion. Captain Tenby, therefore, bestowed upon him the surname of Melcomb, for no other reason than because he had lately visited that town, which was his birth-place. The singular circumstances

under which the foundling was thus preserved, as well as the remarkable beauty of the boy, deeply interested the Captain, who had no alternative but to carry on his unexpected godsend to Canada. During the voyage the child grew upon his affections, and subsequently took such a firm hold of his heart, that having no family of his own, he adopted and educated him, and finally left him a portion of his fortune as we have already stated.

Though he had not the smallest wish to part with his infant prize, Captain Tenby thought it his duty to have an advertisement inserted in some of the English papers, stating the circumstances under which he had been found, in order that he might be reclaimed by his proper parents, if he possessed any. His first orders to this effect miscarried, the vessel that bore them being captured by the enemy; delays occasioned by professional duty intervened, and it was thus two years before his agent in London procured the advertisement to be inserted, which he did not think it necessary to renew more than once. It met the eye of only one individual who took any interest in the statement, but this one was Gideon Welbeck! From that moment he was racked with a thousand contending agonies. The pangs of remorse that had already begun to tear his heart, received some little alleviation from the hope thus afforded him of his not being a murderer; but if the child survived, it might live to reclaim its patrimony, to strip him of all that he had usurped, to bring him to public shame and punishment, to brand his children with poverty and ignominy. If he were, indeed, a murderer, he was doomed to eternal punishment in the next world; if he were not, he was hourly threatened with exposure and ruin in this. This was the fearful and incessant struggle that had shattered his mind to pieces, and occasionally shaken down his reason from her throne; and these were the misgivings and terrors that led him every day to pore over the advertisements in the newspaper with such a trembling anxiety, wishing, and at the same time dreading, to encounter some fresh statement that might relieve him from the almost intolerable agony of suspense. To these manifold sources of disquiet, were added perpetual fears of Gunthorpe's treachery. Welbeck had sought a miserable solace in the accumulation of riches, and the prospect of aggrandizing his family; his signal failure, as to any diminu tion of his misery, his bitterness of heart, and the curse,

which, in the exasperation of disappointment, he had pronounced upon his son, we have already recorded. Many vices had he tried, and all had entailed upon his head their own remorseful punishment;-he had practised but one virtue, that of an inflexible integrity in the discharge of his magisterial duties, and this one had not disappointed him. It was an Oasis in the desert of his life, the only sweet drop in the bitter cup of his existence.

Barak Gunthorpe, after he had received in London the promised reward of his villany, and which, according to his own anticipations, was to render him rich and happy for life, had been strictly enjoined by Welbeck to depart immediately for Newcastle. Wishing, however, to have a little sailor's enjoyment before he left London, he betook himself to a favourite haunt at Wapping, where he was robbed of his ill-gotten store by some of the loose women with whom he associated, and being picked up in a state of intoxication by a pressgang, was sent on board the Tender, and transferred to a King's ship bound to Canada. Some time after his arrival, he was drafted on board the frigate commanded by Captain Tenby, where, to his infinite surprise, he saw the child whom he had attempted to destroy, and learned at the same time, from some of the crew, all the particulars of his being picked up at sea. Believing that he was liable to severe, perhaps to capital punishment for the attempt he had made, although it had not fully succeeded, he was very glad that the child did not recognise him, and for his own sake observed a profound silence upon all that had occurred. Having received a somewhat better education than the other men, he was in time made a mate or clerk to the purser, a situation which, notwithstanding frequent punishments for drunkenness, he managed to retain for several years, during which time he had constant opportunities of seeing Henry, who resided a good deal on board, when the frigate was in port or stationed off the coast. Thus he continued until the vessel was ordered to the East Indies, where the Captain died, Gunthorpe, however, still remaining upon that distant station without any means or prospect of returning to Europe. During this time he had written several letters to Welbeck, desiring him to procure his discharge, and send him out money; missives which had multiplied the terrors and sufferings of the party to whom they were addressed, though he was too cautious ever to reply to them. Receiving no an

swer to his applications, Gunthorpe at length ceased to write, and Welbeck, gladly concluding from his silence that the man was dead, was the more startled and aghast when so fearful an apparition presented itself before him in the hall of his own house, and whispered in his ear, the appalling name of Barak Gunthorpe.

CHAPTER XV.

Open those long shut lips, and strike mine ears
With music more harmonious than the spheres
Yield in their heavenly motions; and if ever
A true submission for a crime acknowledged
May find a gracious hearing, teach your tongue,
In the first sweet articulate sound it utters,
To sign my wished-for pardon."

THE BONDMAN.

CALM and philosophical as was Henry's usual temperament, and utterly indifferent as he was to riches and grandeur, he could not listen to a recital so strange and interesting in its nature, and which promised to effect such a total alteration in his prospects, without being deeply moved. His predominant source of pleasurable emotion was the reflection that, if his claims to the Manor-house estate should be established, Emily, so far from experiencing any reverse of fortune, or expulsion from her home, might still remain mistress of the mansion, confirming at once her happiness and his own by their marriage; a measure which, he flattered himself, they both equally desired, although, until the present moment, there had been so little hope of ever realizing their mutual wishes. The most painful feeling that Gunthorpe's intelligence had excited, was the consideration of the disgrace, ejectment, and compulsory restitution which might fall upon Welbeck, for whom, in the forgiving charity of his generous nature, he could not help feeling beforehand a deep commiseration, notwithstanding his atrocious design against his life, and his long usurpation of his estate and fortune. All, however, whether of a gratifying or displeasing nature, depended upon the truth of Gunthorpe's statement,

which he was not prepared to admit, conclusive as it might appear, without farther and most rigorous scrutiny. His close inquiries, however, with the convincing answers they elicited, tended gradually to remove from his mind every possibility of doubt. His informant, mentioning a peculiar mark upon one of Henry's shoulders, referred to old Nettletop or his wife, should either of them be still living, in confirmation of the fact, that the infant of which they had charge bore a similar impression. The clothes and ornamented coral which he wore at the time of his exposure, as well as the boat in which he was turned adrift, were so minutely described, and tallied so exactly with the information which he himself remembered to have often received from Captain Tenby,-the whole detail of direct and circumstantial evidence was so consistent, clear, and irrefragable, that he remained under the perfect conviction of his being the rightful owner of the Manor-house estate, and entitled, as such, to all the rents of his long minority.

Satisfied upon this point-and he was one of those whose conscience is so delicate that they always argue against, rather than in favour of themselves, he again gave his hand to Gunthorpe, in token of his full and free forgiveness, and assuring him that he should be abundantly rewarded for his intelligence, he took his address at Southampton, and dismissed him from the prison, cautioning him not to breathe a syllable of what had occurred, and to live as secluded as possible, lest he should be recognised and brought into trouble. Again left to his own meditations, Henry had leisure to reflect upon this singular alteration in his destiny, and upon the measures which it would be most expedient to take for the recovery of his own rights, with the least possible injury to the feelings of others. Welbeck, he thought it not unlikely, rendered desperate by the imminency of his danger, might indignantly deny the whole statement of his accomplice, and drive him to the necessity of legal proceedings, for which he was totally unprovided with funds. If he could have access to him or to Emily, some compromise might, perhaps, be arranged; but, unfortunately, in the midst of all the golden visions which Gunthorpe had so suddenly conjured up, he was imprisoned for a heavy debt, had only a few guineas in his pocket, and did not know where to apply for pecuniary aid, unless to Penguin or Mrs. Tenby, upon each of whom he considered himself to have some sort of claim.