teau, which he deposited outside the gate, at the same time bringing intelligence that the coach had cleared the village, and would be up immediately. No sooner had he announced these tidings, than the vehicle came in sight, and a few minutes after drew up at the gate. "Now, sir,” said the driver, jump ing down from his box, "quick's the word, if you please; I'm behind time already. Here, David," addressing the gate-keeper, "bear a hand with the gentleman's portmanteau." While the luggage was being stowed away on the roof of the coach, Charles stood aloof with Fanny, who, making an effort to conceal her emotion, ob. served, in a subdued tone of voice, "by this time to-morrow, Charles, you will be far away from us." "Yes, love, but my thoughts will be with you still. In the morning I shall say to myself-now she is going out with my father for a ramble across the common, or through the village; at noon-she has just seated herself at the window with a volume of our favourite Thomson in her hands; in the evening-she is now at tea with her aunt, listening with a sweet smile of resignation-Fanny, dear, you know how often you have made me laugh with that arch smile of yours! to some portentous anecdote about the fashions of the last" Their conversation was here broken in upon by the coachman's pithy request that the gentleman would "look sharp" whereupon Charles, tearing himself from Fanny's side, said, "good bye, God bless you, love; be sure you meet me here this day fortnight, and depend on hearing from me the instant I reach London;" and with these words he sprung into the coach, which in an instant bore him from her sight. Fanny Davis, at this period, had just completed her eighteenth year. She was the only child of an English officer of dragoons, who, after a long term of military service, had retired on half-pay into the cheap seclusion of South Wales, accompanied by his newly wedded wife, who died while Fanny was yet an infant-a loss which her husband took grievously to heart, and which, preying on a constitution already enfeebled by severe wounds, brought him to the grave within two years from the time when he had become a widower. Fortunately, how ever, for the poor orphan thus doubly bereaved, she found an affectionate and exemplary guardian in her father's maiden sister, who, on hearing of her brother's loss, and consequent melancholy, came to take up her abode permanently with him. With this lady, who was every way qualified to superintend the education of her niece, Fanny's days glided away peacefully and happily in the retirement of a neat but humble cottage which her father had purchased shortly before his death, in the immediate neighbourhood of Carricksawthy common. Toge At no great distance from them dwelt the clergyman of the parish, a simple, kindly-natured man, of recluse and studious habits. In this gentleman's society, the Davises spent a great portion of their time. His son, in particular, a fine spirited youth, about three years older than Fanny, was her constant companion. ther they might be seen racing like wild colts about the common, laughing and shouting in all the irrepressible glee of childhood; or climbing with fearless foot the steep acclivities of the Black Mountains; or gathering the harebells, and wild strawberry plants that grew thickly among the hedges of Leven-gornuth; and in the evening, Mr Griffyths, who usually finished his day at the cottage, would play the part of schoolmaster, and seating the young couple, one on each side of him, give them lessons suited to their age; read them passages from works calculated to excite their delight and wonder; and instil into them those great principles of religion and morality, without which there can be no sure guarantee for success or happiness in life. So passed the time until Charles Griffyths had attained his thirteenth, and Fanny her tenth year, when an uncle of the former, who was a merchant in Bristol, and had neither wife nor children of his own, wrote to his brother to request that his son might be sent to him, when he would place him at school, and probably provide for his future fortunes. At first the simple-minded clergyman decided on refusing this liberal offer, not liking the idea of separation from a child who formed his chief source of happiness; but when he came to weigh the matter carefully in his mind, he resolved to sacrifice his own personal feelings to his boy's interests, and consented to his departure. It was a melancholy day for the Davises, when Charles called at the cottage to bid adieu to his playmate Fanny. She hung round his neck, and entreated with tears that he would take her with him; and even her aunt shared some portion of her distress, so completely had the youth's frank, cheerful, and intelligent nature won upon her feelings. He himself was not less affected than his "little sister," as he was in the habit of calling her; but when, on reaching Bristol, he was received with a hearty welcome by his relation, who took a liking to him at once, he soon forgot his grief, and became reconciled to his change of life. As it was arran ged that he should spend his school vacations alternately with his uncle and his father, he saw Fanny once a-year, and, during his absence, kept up a regular monthly correspondence with her. Thus four years rolled away, when it became expedient to consider what should be done for him. His uncle, struck with the lad's quickness and sagacity, so unusual with those whose boyhood has been passed in comparative solitude, thought of commerce; but before he could come to any decisive arrangements, the increasing infirmities of his father, to whom he was devotedly attached, induced Charles to return home, where he finally took up his residence, paying, however, occasional visits to Bristol, till the death of his uncle, who died when the young man had just entered on his twenty-first year, leaving him a small amount of funded property, together with one or two cottages which he possessed in the neighbourhood of London. From this period the union of Charles and Fanny was the talk of all the gossips in the parish, who agreed in declaring that they were formed for each other, and that a handsomer, kinder, or better behaved young couple never graced the vale of Towy. Mrs Davis-for the good lady had, years since, dropped the comfortless" Miss"-was precisely of the same way of thinking. She was anxious to see her darling niece comfortably settled before she herself quitted life; and as Fanny would inherit what little property she had to leave, and dreams of worldly aggrandisement never troubled the minds of that contented family circle, she felt persuaded that the prospects of the young folk were quite as sunny as they ought to be. Accordingly, after many long and solemn consultations with Mrs Griffyths, the marriage was resolved on; but previous to its taking place, Charles, who had hitherto received the rents of his cottages very irregularly, and, for the last two years, none at all—his tenants being of a sad, migratory disposition, and much addicted to moonlight flittings, as his London agent took care to inform him punctually twice a-year Charles resolved to look into matters himself, and to come to some final settlement, so that he might enter upon his new state of life without any pecuniary annoyances to molest him. Besides, he had projected with Fanny a variety of pleasant schemes. For instance, the cottage garden was to be enlarged; additions were to be made to their little library; then they were to take a trip to Clifton, and possibly even visit Snowdon and its romantic neighbourhood; and these agreeable projects could only be carried into execution by the sale of the cottages, from which Charles expected to derive a sum sufficient for all his purposes. He accordingly decided on a visit to the metropolis, and it was arranged that the marriage should be solemnized immediately after his return, which he determined should be in a fortnight. CHAPTER II. As Fanny returned home, it was with the slow step of one whose mind is oppressed by doubts and fears. A presentiment of she knew not what hung like a heavy weight upon her heart. In vain she tried to persuade herself of the folly of her apprehen sions, and cheer her spirits by the reflection that Charles would be back in a few days. There are times, as all must have felt, when vague presentiments of impending ill fall like a blight upon the mind, and, despite the efforts of reason, deprive it for the season of all energy. So much had he been with her of late, so congenial were their tastes and pursuits, and so absolute was her dependence on him, that when, on reaching the cottage, she found Charles no longer there, a light seemed vanished from her path, and her once happy home, forlorn and darkened, to wear the aspect of a house of mourning. Hers was, in fact, just the sort of nature to entertain a pure, fervent, and engrossing passion like this. She was a creature of quick and ardent impulses; simple and affectionate; of a high-toned order of imagination-too often, alas! humanity's worst foe; with all the freshness of youth in her heart, as its bloom was on her cheek; and with a certain innate refinement of look and manner which far more than compensated for the absence of that artificial polish induced by an acquaintance with what is called "good society." Though uneducated in the fashionable sense of the term, yet she had read and thought much-had a poet's eye for the ever-varying aspects of nature-the stern, emphatic frown of winter, the sunny smile of spring, the grave, serene majesty of autumnand was familiar with the works of many of our best writers; for Mr Griffyths, to whom she was as dear as if she were his own child, had been assiduous in his efforts to draw forth all the powers of her mind. For such a being to love-and love with her whole soul as though it were the element from which her life derived its verdure, and without which the green stalk of her youth must decay-was as natural as for birds to sing, and flowers to "fill the lap of May." The casket that enshrined this fair treasure was every way worthy of it. Her figure was buoyant, sylph-like, and graceful in every movement; her countenance, with the soft blue eye and exquisitely formed mouth, full of expression; and she had that sweet, low voice," an excellent thing in woman," which wins its way to the heart, like the music of one's native home heard in a far-off land. Such was the innocent, trusting, and lovely creature who now, for the first time in her life, felt thought press like a burden on her imagination, which she would fain, but could not, shake off. The night after Charles's departure VOL. XLIV. NO. CCLXXVI. her pillow was pressed by an aching head; but the morning soon dawned, and with it came a reassured spirit. In a day or two at farthest she should have a letter from the young traveller, and this would go far to fill up the void occasioned by his absence. Three days thus passed; and, early on the fourth, the Llangadock postman brought up the expected epistle to the cottage. Oh, how Fanny devoured its contents! It was written in the most cheerful spirits. Charles had nearly accomplished the business which took him to town, and would to a certainty be back that day week, when she was to meet him, as agreed upon, at the turnpike gate. Holding the precious document in her hand, Fanny flew first to her aunt, and then to Mr Griffyths, to communicate the welcome intelligence, and, in the evening, sat down and penned an answer, which she took herself to the postoffice. As the happy creature's mind had now recovered its usual elasticity, the hours flew rapidly by, the week approached its termination, and now it wanted only one day to the period which Charles had fixed on for his arrival. On the evening of that day Fanny took a stroll with her aunt through the village, who could not refrain from a smile when she saw the joyous and excited state of her mind. "By this time to-morrow, aunt," she said, "Charles will have returned to us. I have been to the gate, and they tell me the coach passes it at noon. Oh, how happy it will make us all to see him again! And we shall have so much to talk about, you know! We shall hear all his adventures-where he lived-how he employed his time—and what he thought of those fine new streets and buildings that we read so much about. And then we have so many plans to arrange for the next month. We are to spend a few days at Clifton, which Charles tells me is one of the loveliest spots in England; to visit Bath, where he went to school; and Tintern Abbey on our way back; and, if the weather continues favourable, to take a trip to North Wales, which I have so long wished to see. Oh, how happy we shall be, shall we not, aunt?" and thus the lively girl ran on; while all who passed her, young and old, blessed the radiant countenance which 2 F beamed with such ineffable sweetness and good-humour. The next day Fanny was astir with the lark; and, long ere the sun had dispelled the vapours which cling round the forehead of Llynn-y-van, she had gathered a basket-full of the choicest fruits in the garden, and disposed her flower-pots on the lawn in front of the cottage, in the order that she knew Charles most liked. Mr Griffyths came up to breakfast with them-an unusual thing with him, for he was a late riser-and, when the meal was over, Fanny quitted the room to complete her preparations for the traveller's arrival. The wonted dinner hour at three o'clock was put off till four; the servant was sent into the village to purchase the tenderest poultry that could be procured; the fruit, trimly garnished with leaves and flowers, was set out on the sideboard; and a bottle of unimpeachable wine, which had remained in the cellar since Captain Davis's death, was hunted up and broached for the occasion. very spot with Charles; and, the reflection lending additional impetus to her movements, in a few minutes she reached the turnpike, where sat the gatekeeper on a bench outside his door, with a tankard of cwrw beside him. "A fine afternoon, Miss Fanny." "Yes, indeed, David-what time do you expect the coach by?" It will be here in a few seconds, miss," replied the old man. "I suppose now you are expecting Master Charles," and the speaker looked archly at her, for their betrothment was no secret to the neighbourhood. "Yes," said Fanny, with a brightening glow on her cheek; "we rather think he will be here to-day, as Mr Griffyths has received no intimation from him to the contrary ;" and then, anxious to drop the subject, though it engrossed all her thoughts, she entered the house, and began caressing the gatekeeper's grandchild-a fine curly headed boy, some five or six years old. She was thus engaged, infinitely to the delight of the child, who made her assist him in hunting a kitten under a chest of drawers, when suddenly her quick ear caught the roll of wheels, and, bounding to the door, she exclaimed, clapping her hands with joy, "Here it is I am sure this is it!" At about two hundred yards' distance from the gate, the road made a sudden bend, forming an acute angle, so that no vehicle could be seen till it was close to the turnpike, though the tramp of the horses' feet might be heard long before. For some minutes, therefore, Fanny was in a state of the most exciting suspense; but the moment the supposed stage turned the corner of the road, she found, to her disappointment, that it was merely a private carriage. When all these little household preparations were finished, Fanny, simply and gracefully attired in white, Charles's favourite dress, with a single rose in her hair, and a light straw bonnet, whose shape set off her beautiful face to the greatest advantage, took her way alone, for she would not even accept of her aunt as a companion, to the place of meeting. As she tripped across the common she could not help contrasting the present state of her feelings with what they were on the day when she parted from Charles. Then she was a prey to blank dejection. Now she was all hope and cheerfulness. Every well-known object on which her eye now rested seemed arrayed in more than usual beauty-every sound that came to her ear seemed informed with a blither spirit. A brighter-fresher "Never fear, young lady," said the green adorned the elastic carpet on gate-keeper, "it will be here immewhich she trode; the precipitous heights diately; Joe's always remarkably of the Black Mountains, furrowed punctual; I never knew him ten miwith the storms of ages, wore a sun- nutes behind in my life, and I've kept nier aspect; the thrush from the depths this turnpike ever since your fatherof the neighbouring copses sang sweet- ah, here it comes, you can tell it by er in her ear; and a more invigorating the cloud of dust it raises; now then, influence breathed in the wind that miss, now for Master Charles; I'll came wooingly towards her. The warrant me he's on the look-out;" church clock from Llangadock struck then, in an under tone to himself, two, as she crossed the little wood-"Well, well, it's quite natural at their en bridge that spans the brawling Sawthy. In half-an-hour hence, she said to herself, I shall be passing this age, poor things; I remember, at their time of life I was just as fond of courting as they are, though it seems strange enough to me now;" and so saying, the honest fellow finished his tankard, as if to make himself amends for his departed sensibilities. How the young girl's heart beat as the sound of wheels drew near! Precious load that vehicle bore, for all she most cherished on earth was there. And now it turns the corner-an instant, and it is halting at the turnpike gate! But no kind voice greeted Fanny's anxious ears-no familiar face was lit up with smiles at her presence. The passengers were all strangers to her. One brief, searching glance sufficed to tell her this; and before she could summon up courage enough to make enquiries, the coach was again on the move, leaving the wretched girl standing on the foot-path a prey to the bitterest disappointment. Pitying her distress, the old gatekeeper approached her. "Come, come, Miss Fanny," he said, "don't take matters so to heart; depend on it the young gentleman will be here within the next four-and-twenty hours. Most likely all the places were engaged when he applied at the booking-office, for, as you must have seen yourself, the coach was full inside as well as out; my life on it, he will come to-morrow." "Yes, yes, David, you are right, he will come to-morrow; but it will be a great disappointment to his father, for we all fully expected him to-day. Is there any other coach that will pass this road in the course of the evening?" "No, miss; this is the only one." "Well, then, I must have patience till to-morrow, when I will call here again. Good afternoon, David," and with a heavy sigh Fanny turned away from the turnpike, and pursued her solitary road home. On reaching the garden gate, her aunt, who caught sight of her from the window, surprised to find her return alone, hastened down the lawn to meet her. "Why, how is this, Fanny?" exclaimed Mrs Davis, "where's Charles ?" "Oh, aunt, aunt," replied Fanny, bursting into tears, "he is not come -he never will come-I have seen him for the last time." "Nonsense, child; but come in, Mr Griffyths is waiting to hear the news." They entered the parlour, where the clergyman was sitting with spectacles on nose, conning over his next Sunday's sermon; and greatly was Fanny comforted, when her first acute burst of anguish was over, by perceiving how soon the old folks were reconciled to Charles's non-appearance. They took for granted that his affairs had detained him longer than he had calculated on, and felt assured that he would arrive on the morrow, or the day after at farthest. They even rallied Fanny on, what she called, her "presentiment;" but finding that this light tone pained her, Mr Griffyths, who was well aware how vivid her imagination was, and how apt she was at times to be carried away by its impulses, whether sad or cheerful, assumed a more earnest manner, and after pointing out to her how completely the letter from Charles had proved the fallacy of those vague fears which had beset her on the evening of his departure, at length succeeded in persuading her that her apprehensions on the present occasion would turn out to be equally groundless. "He will be here to-morrow, or the day after," added the clergyman; "but if not, depend on it you will have a letter from him, explaining the cause of his prolonged absence," an opinion in which Mrs Davis coincided. On the following day, immediately after breakfast, the anxious girl set off for Llangadock, concluding, as Mr Griffyths had suggested, that there would be a letter for her, if Charles meditated a longer stay. She met the postman on her road, and ascertaining from him that there were no communications either for the clergyman, her aunt, or herself, she turned back to the cottage, not disappointed, but fully convinced that Charles would be with her that day. Again, therefore, were the domestic arrangements of the preceding day repeated; and at the appointed hour, Fanny bent her steps to the turnpike, accompanied by Mr Griffyths, whom she kept at his utmost speed, at the same time expressing her surprise that he walked "so very— very slow!" They had not reached the gate many minutes before the coach again drew up. Fanny looked anxiously into the passengers' faces, but, as before, they were all strange to her. "Unkind!" she murmured, as she turned away with a sickness of heart that passes |