AND so on the second day-for the vessel was one which landed its numerous passengers nowhere but for an hour or two en passant—on an evening indescribably beautiful, as are such evenings in the Mediterranean, our voyagers came in sight of the island of Malta; the white magazine-looking walls and domes of Valetta bristling with fortifications, backed by a sky lustrous and soft, and without a particle of smoke to prevent the minutest and most distant objects from being discerned with the greatest clearness; and soon they were floating into the noble harbor studded with men-of-war and steamers, crowds of white-sailed fechinas and gayly-painted boats, presenting altogether a spectacle as novel as it was brilliant and peculiar. On the quays, swarms of babbling lazzaronis were mingling with sturdy seamen. On the cool flat roofs of the white and yellow houses, with their large projecting green verandahs piled picturesquely together, were groups of ladies, wrapped in black silk mantillas from head to foot.

"La Valetta"-as another eyewitness has described, as only eyewitnesses can, a similar coup d'œil -"is a much neater, cleaner, and more modern-looking town than any of the cities on the peninsula of Italy. It is, indeed, less magnificent, because it is less rich in costly palaces, churches and works of art. The houses are all of stone, and have a solid, massive, almost prison-like aspect; they are flat-roofed, and to a spectator who can look down upon them, they present about sunset, a

picturesque, gay, and animating spectacle; the roofs are then covered with innumerable family groups, engaged in almost as great a variety of amusements-some promenading, and others seated, enjoying the pleasure of social intercourse, some watering their flowers and enjoying the ten thousand beauties which are offered to their contemplation, whilst others are drawing such tones from the gay guitar as set the feet of all the merry-hearted listeners in motion."

No unnecessary time was lost in landing; and to the music of the bugles and drums playing and resounding on the rock of Malta-to the striking and ringing "of a hundred clocks and bells chiming their many-toned peals," our party stepped on shore, and entering one of the calèches of singular construction, peculiar to the island, drove through the ancient Marina Gate, along the wharf to the hotel, situated in the Strada Reale.

Even after Naples, Valetta strikes the stranger on his first arrival as an extremely lively and happy-looking city, and though in some points he may fancy himself half in England, there is so much essentially and unmistakably foreign, that the very motley mixture of the two impressions seems but to heighten the interest and attractiveness of the effect.

Besides those luxuriating on the verandah and on the housetop this evening, as our travellers drove along, the streets were thronged with gay and joyous-looking people; our own military in their fa

miliar costumes, mingling with the handsome and picturesquely-attired Maltese; whilst the music of bands or ringing and chiming of innumerable church-bells, and everywhere the sound of merry human voices resounded through the light, pure air. There is something in a gay and foreign place which makes the idea of death or pining misery, for ourselves or others, even more appalling than when associated with one of our graver, quieter English dwelling-places; and in this bright island city, in which sorrow and sighing appeared so incongruous, languished poor, miserable Bona!

This was the thought uppermost in Gwendoline's mind as she sat in anxious suspense and anticipation, little able to enter into the lively interest with which this new foreign scene inspired her companions. Rather she felt impatient at their company-that she had not come to Malta alone, less surrounded at least by strangers-strangers for the most part to Bona, none of whom could possibly share the bitter anguish for her fate which she felt was awaiting her. They all seemed come, as it were, uninvited; to assist as cold and curious spectators, at some tragedy with which they had no interest and concern.

Mr. Fielden's high, heartless spirit, more especially jarred her feelings, whilst she wilfully closed her eyes and heart against the tender sympathy revealed in the glances of the dark eyes opposite, as they occasionally ventured to turn themselves upon her, anxiously. The sympathy and distress were for herself alone, and yet she would none of it. By the time they reached their destination, she had worked herself into a mood of impatient agitation unusual to her; the more so as she felt convinced, that amongst the crowd on the quay watching the arrival of the Neapol

itan steamer, she had caught sight of Paoli. She could not, she was sure, even amongst that motley assembly, have mistaken him; that strange metallic-looking head of hair she would have known anywhere, and the sinister-expressioned eyes, seen now in their undisguised repulsiveness, as they glared eagerly and suspiciously from the distance, on the disembarking passengers.

This sight had been like that of a bird of ill omen to Gwendoline's perturbed imagination, and struck more into her heart the chill dread of what she would have to encounter; yet she had made up her mind, immediately on arriving at their destination, to start at once on foot, unaccompanied by a guide, to the foreigner's residence, the direction of which had been given in his letter; communicating her intention to no one but Mrs. Fielden, whose anxious proposal, that her husband or herself even might be allowed to escort her, she not only decidedly negatived, but added her desire that no one else should be told that she was going, till she had fairly started; her departure was therefore unknown to the rest of the party, till they missed her on sitting down to the late dinner prepared for them. Mr. Gibson looked grave when he heard of it, and much displeased at so impetuous and independent a proceeding. He thought it a very imprudent, not to say dangerous, risk for a lady to expose herself, thus alone and unprotected in a strange foreign place, at this late hour too, to the mercy of this Maltese Count, of most doubtful and suspicious reputation. Who could be at all sure that the very letter of invitation he had sent to Miss Lawson at Seacombe to visit her dying friend, might not have been a trap of some kind, laid, knowing the young lady's independent and devoted nature, to inveigle her over

Italian-difficult to comprehend. It was already more than an hour after sunset, but the streets still were alive with gay and busy crowds of picturesque appearance, which latter feature, and the images of saints stationed at every corner, and the priests' processions so frequently encountered, effectually dispel that delusion that Valetta is an English town, which otherwise its cleanliness, neatness, and foot pavements might inspire.

Edgar arrived at last in the desired Strada, one of the very inferior ones of the city, as regarded all decent habitations--the older and dingier, and more essentially foreign in appearance, but it must have been an hour almost since Gwendoline, more directly conducted there, had reached it. Neither had he any correct idea as to the number of the house he had seen written, but by dint of inquiries at shops for Paoli's abode, he obtained at last the requisite information.

"Yes, a person of that name did live at numero venti-cinque," and curious, or as he rather thought suspicious glances at himself, accompanied the answer, though, perhaps, they might only have been caused by the interest which the appearance of the handsome, gentlemanly-looking young Englishman inspired in such a locality.

He did not like the look of the place in which Gwendoline's unfortunate English friend was located, and feared that the former would find her worse fears realized, with regard to the imposture as to means and position the foreigner had practised upon them. There was something which struck him as not only mean and inextensive-looking, considering his high pretensions, but hardly respectable in the habitation, and he was more than ever glad that he had lost no more time than he could help, in following Gwendo

line. He should present himself at once, and ask for Miss Lawson.

Just above the door of entrance was one of the enclosed wooden verandahs peculiar to Malta; the windows with which it is always furnished, were open to admit the evening air which in this street seemed impure and sultry.

Just as he was about to pull the bell, he heard the tones of Gwendoline's voice talking low and earnestly. The sound relieved him. He glanced upwards, and when he looked down again, a man stood before him—a foreigner of peculiar sinister and unprepossessing appearance. Could this be Paoli?

His hair was straight on end, as if, so it struck him, the rats had been disporting themselves in it: his sallow face and ugly features had an almost diabolical expression as they leered upon the stranger, and his whole dress and person, in spite of the sparkling rings and tawdry shirt pins-not the splendid diamond he had sported at Seacombe, but some of vastly inferior value-was most slovenly, even dirty in appearance.

Could Gwendoline's friend, could any English woman, have been so demented as to be taken in by such an individual? the revolted young Englishman soliloquized. No, impossible! this could not be the person.

But it was, notwithstanding, certainly Paoli. Edgar Campbell did not take into consideration the transfiguration, of which the person of the least well-favored foreigner is capable, when attired carefully and tastefully à l'Anglais, with clipped hair and beard-though, truth to say, the fashion of Paoli's bair was always remarkable-or the subtle dissimulation and assumption of which he is capable, in order to effect his purpose, and palm himself off as a respectable and

eligible member of Continental society. See him in his own country, when the mask is removed,—his foreign propensities no longer under control, and we should scarcely recognize him.

"Miss Lawson is here, I believe?" Edgar said in English, on the chance of its being Paoli; for what sensible Englishman ever attempts to speak in a foreign language, if he thinks there is the remotest chance of his own being comprehended? and he was not disappointed here.

"Yes, la Signora Lawson has honored us so far," was the reply, readily and blandly enough given.

"She is with her friend, Madame Paoli, I suppose ?" continued Edgar. "Be so good, then, as to let her know I am here to escort her back, but she need not disturb herself any sooner than is necessary on that account. I can wait till her visit is over."

Paoli smiled to himself, if smile it could be called, shrugging his shoulders.

"La Signora is not with my poor wife at present," he said; "she is too ill for me to permit her to see company long together. La Signora Lawson has left her a good half hour."

"Then you will give her my message, if you please," Campbell said haughtily, not liking the man's expression; "the sooner Miss Lawson leaves the better, I should think."

Paoli backed into the passage, still smiling significantly, Edgar following him.

"I will tell her," he said, lowering his voice confidentially, "but I hardly know whether she will like to be disturbed, in an interview of so sacred and interesting a character."

"What do you mean, sir ?" asked Campbell sharply. "You said just

now she was not with Madame Paoli."

"No, not with my wife," shaking his head with mock pathos; "circumstances have strangely brought another friend of hers, a much nearer one, under my roof, and it is with him that she is now occupied. "With him?"

Paoli watched the change of Edgar's countenance; the surprise and mystification at first expressed, turn to something deeper and more ominous even than rising dismay, and he enjoyed the observation maliciously. This proud young Englishman had been evidently caught in a trap by the terrible fine Englishwoman he so hated; indeed, he was not quite uninformed as to. the circumstances of that case, and he saw he could make some mischief.

"I do not understand you, sir," continued Edgar; "what friend but your wife, can Miss Lawson possibly have met with in this house?" he added with some disdainful emphasis.

Only her husband! a poor sickly young man, placed by her friends under my charge," hissed the Count, putting his mouth close to his listener's ear, confidentially ; "but, nevertheless, I am given to understand he is her husband."

On any other occasion Campbell would have knocked the speaker down for his offensive familiarity, but he was too thunderstruck now, and stood only as if he had received some sudden blow, pale and immovable.

"Ah, you were not, I see, in Miss Lawson's little secrets," Paoli continued, with an impudent stress on the word Miss-Italianized, " and I should not, perhaps, have let the cat out, but I was not prohibited." "Silence, sir !" Edgar continued, rallying outwardly; go up and say that I am here-Mr. Campbell