friend Fielden ?" he said almost menacingly. "Am not I sufficient !" And there was in his looks as well as tone, something which caused the poor weak Bona to cower like a frightened hare, and lift a supplicating eye now to her lover's face. Gwendoline yielded to Mrs. Fielden's entreaties not to remain up-stairs, but to try at least what the influence of her presence might de, to give some turn to the lamentable position of affairs-perhaps place some check and restraint on what Mrs. Fielden, in her absence, had had to bear-but the meal that followed her arrival was not a pleasant one by any means. Even Mr. Fielden's easy volubility was at fault, awed by the imposing nature of Gwendoline's grand, silent scorn. Bona, on her re-entrance, had made a trembling approach to kiss her friend; with timidity caused, not so much from fear of Gwendoline as of Paoli, whose jealous temper, for the first time revealed to her, had struck a new terror to her soul, a new consciousness as to some horrible chain, from which it was too late now to free herself, winding tightly around her, stifling her powers to cry out for relief.

As for Mr. Fielden, she dared not look at him again, and Paoli had studiously opposed himself between her and her accustomed place by the clergyman's side, exercising, indeed, a jealous vigilance over every look and motion of his betrothed, which deprived her of free power of glance or utterance; yet, even in this, there was perhaps something not ungratifying to the infatuated young woman's feelings; any thing suffered for Fielden's sake could not be entirely unwelcome to her.

Gwendoline made a movement to withdraw immediately on rising from the table, but this time a

strange earnest look, half of stern command, half tender entreaty, fixed on Bona, constrained the latter, almost against her sensible volition, with a timid, deprecating murmur of "good-night," to Paoli, and the rest, to rise and follow her.

Paoli's expression, as he watched the pair depart and the door close behind them was absolutely terrific; the foreigner's aspect, not ungainly in repose, in spite of the dark sallowness of his cold complexion, and which could assume at times such engaging blandness, became strange and startling under the influence of unpleasant excitement; his long black hair seemed to stand forth wildly dishevelled round his head, and his fiery eyes to be starting angrily from their sockets.

The

smothered flame which had been emitted more slightly before supper, blazed forth now with gathered fury.

"What did that tall woman mean by leading off his betrothed in that manner? what did they all mean by coming between him and her, and seeking to deprive him of the girl he was going to marry, either by illicitly stealing her affection—” and here his look fixed wrathfully on the clergyman-"or," and then he turned on his wife, with scarce less fierceness, "raising their false and malicious insinuations against him? He would let them know he was not to be so trifled with, that he was capable of defending himself yes, even unto blood."

And as if to suit the action to the word, he caught up a knife, brandishing it threateningly.

This exhibition, however, calling forth a faint shriek from Mrs. Fielden, and a startled movement even from her husband, seemed to satisfy his choler, for he dropped the murderous weapon suddenly, and, with a scornful laugh, prepared to take his departure.

But Mr. Fielden, disregarding

his wife's pale looks of relief at the idea of deliverance from her unpleasant visitor, and choosing to treat the foreigner's outbreak as a playful jest, soothingly invited him to remain for a glass of hot punch and a hit of backgammon; whereupon the foreigner amiably consented, making even some slight apology to Mrs. Fielden, who rose, however, to leave the room, with quite an offended air of dignity, saying

"It was fortunate for you, sir, that Miss Lynde had left the room before this scene took place; no young lady, I should imagine, would have courage to entrust her

future happiness to a gentleman who could so give way to his jealous passion.”

But Paoli only laughed in his most disagreeable manner.

"You think it would have frightened the piccolina," he said. "Ah! never mind; that would not have signified; such little women are better frightened, it makes them obey us. What do you say, my

friend Fielden ?" And another sinister laugh, in which it was unpleasant to think she heard her husband's voice mingle, rang on Mrs. Fielden's ears as she closed the door indignantly.

SHE knocked at Gwendoline's room-door, in order to wish her good-night, and eager perhaps to enforce the dissuasions she knew she was using with Bona, by the account of what she had just witnessed.

Alas! It was but as another pebble cast against a gate of adamant !

Bona was kneeling as she entered, sobbing convulsively, her head resting against the side of the bed, to which she closely clung, as if to support herself against the strong and earnest pleadings of her friend, who stood pale and grand beside her, now stern, now tender, like a majestic angel trying to save an erring mortal. Could she withstand, Mrs. Fielden thought, for the sake of those men below, such an advocate?

Gwendoline had been asking Bona to leave Seacombe with her, quietly, the next morning, promising to

as is but natural; is jealous of-of your husband, because he knows— he thinks, I love him. And it is true! I do, I do love him! more than all the world besides."

And Bona rose all white and trembling, confronting Mrs. Fielden and Gwendoline, with eyes full of passionate defiance.

"Bona," cried Gwendoline, grasping her friend's slender arm almost fiercely in her firm, strong hand, "are you mad, are you utterly shameless, to speak so before his wife ?"

"She knows it-she must have seen it long ago," Bona faltered, cowering under Gwendoline's fierce hold; "and I am doing all I can to revenge her, by giving myself to what you all think misery-perhaps to death; so much the better; I shall then fully have expiated my offence in this world."

"Miss Lynde," Mrs. Fielden said -with a grave moderation in her tone, which really deserved much credit, considering what her feelings as a wife must have been-" this false and mistaken sacrifice of yourself is the last means by which to atone for the sin and folly you acknowledge. Rather comply with Miss Lawson's affectionate propositions. Leave this place immediately with her, and this unfortunate result of your short acquaintance with us will soon be forgotten. As to deluding yourself with the idea of doing my husband service, by marrying this foreigner, you may be pretty sure it is a falsity from beginning to end."

"It is enough," Bona answered gloomily, and released by Gwendoline, she turned hopelessly from them both. "However it may be, I must marry him. I have promised -that now I know is my certain fate. Wherever I might go he would find me out, and you see how passionate he is, perhaps he would

kill me. Moreover, he wishes it; he wished it from the first; it must be right therefore. He sees that for my sake it is better; for-for," she added with the deepest despondency, "he, I know, does not love me; he never encouraged my foolish love, only to gratify me, he let me do him little services. I have done more for him, he says," she continued with a childish triumph, which was almost touching, "than all his once high-sounding friends. have ever done; given him money in emergency, saving him from prison and disgrace."

"Given him money!" reiterated Mrs. Fielden aghast.

Yes, I heard of that this morning," Gwendoline said in a low voice.

"I was walking with him to the village one day, not many weeks. after we came, just after our expedition to Brinscombe," Bona continued with a desperate elation, which seemed to tell them she defied all reproach and reprehension now, "when we met two men coming in search of your husband to arrest him for some debt. I thought I should have died. He went aside and spoke to them, then came back to me and told me, looking very pale. My poor wife,' he said, what am I to do?' I replied, How much money is it they want?" He answered, ''£200. If it could only be furnished for the time !' I had just that sum, you know," glancing at Gwendoline, "laid aside untouched from my annual allowance of £300, which I was to receive from Mr. Lawson altogether this first year. I told Mr. Fielden I would get the money if the men would wait, and they were only to glad to do so, when he explained. I came home as fast as my trembling limbs would suffer me, and Mr. Fielden remained with the men; for of course they would not let him

out of their sight; fortunately there was no one by to see them, and no one saw me either in the house, going straight up to my room. Mr. Fielden had begged me not to distress you, Mrs. Fielden, by letting you discover what had occurred. They made your husband put my signature in pencil at the back of the notes, and oh! how glad I was when I saw them depart! That moment I am sure was the happiest of my life. For the first time I realized the priceless value of money; what before had my change of fortune been to me, in comparison to when I listened to Mr. Fielden's grateful words-heard him call me his benefactress, his guardian friend?"

"And you could keep all this from me?" faltered Gwendoline, in a hurt but softened tone, whilst the simple fervor of the girl's relation brought tears even to the eyes of the pale, offended wife.

"Did you think me so mercenary that I should have blamed you for an impulsive but generous deed? I, who had tried to prove myself for so long worthy of your confience and trust had hoped I might call myself your best and closest friend, from whom you could conceal nothing. It is not so much the act of giving or receiving this money, but the concealment from his wife and myself, which is so worthy of reprehension, Bona, both on your and Mr. Fielden's part."

"Do not blame him," Bona faltered. "Of course he would count it but as a loan, and gave me afterwards a written acknowledgment. It cost him much pain to take the money from me at all. But he shrank so from disturbing Mrs. Fielden's peace of mind, just when she was getting a little happy and serene. He said she had suffered so much lately on his account, and I-I-forgive me, Gwendoline. I

felt you might not like to remain here after such an unpleasant thing had happened, and I could not bear the thought of leaving this place, where we were so happy together."

Gwendoline sighed. They bad wandered far from the ostensible point of contest, this dreadful marriage. She saw now that there was but one way by which she could hope to combat this fatal obstinacy of her unhappy friend, namely, through her misplaced devotion to the clergyman. As for Mrs. Fielden, she was so struck by that new pitfall which this revelation of Bona's had opened before her eyes, that she stood lost in a maze of half-horror, half-relief at the idea of its having been escaped, scarce knowing whether to regard their deliverer now with gratitude or enmity; anxious thoughts mingling too as to how the money was to be repaid, vaguely hoping indeed that Bona had completed her act of heroism by destroying the receipt, so that if she died suddenly, or married this man, his or her executors might not come upon them for the impossible payment of the debt.

"Bona," then Gwendoline returned-the tender earnestness of tone making way through the grave severity she fain would have assumed "though this enthusiastic devotion which you profess in Mr. Fielden's cause, nay, the affection which in a somewhat unmaidenly manner you have declared in the very presence of his wife, is not what I can in any way countenance or approve, yet being unwilling to believe that in any thing but innocence and ignorance of heart, the friend whom I have loved and cherished as so good and pure in mind and conduct, could so commit herself, I will not only ignore your sentiment for Mr. Fielden as entirely unworthy of a virtuous woman's consideration, but ask you, for the

are.

last time, to think whether you may not perhaps better forward the interests of the friends, in whose cause you are so willing to sacrifice yourself, by remaining as you You must be aware that a married woman has no independent power over the employment of her fortune. Are you so sure that Signor Paoli will either sympathize with, or even allow any of your generous intentions on the Fieldens' behalf to be carried out after he has once made you his wife? As for this Maltese chaplaincy, or whatever it is called, believe me it will prove a mere myth, a fiction, that you will find yourself miserably deluded and deceived. Whereas 1-I promise if you remain as heretofore, my companion and friend, not only to countenance but assist financiallyand I have ample means now at my command-in placing Mr. Fielden's affairs on a more secure and comfortable footing. My regard for his wife would render this a pleasure to me, were it on no other account."

With eyes running over with gratitude and love, poor Mrs. Fielden breathed a whispered blessing on Gwendoline's head. With what breathless earnestness did she then watch the effect on Bona which this appeal might produce, and Bona certainly could not but feel her obstinate persistence in self-ruin shaken, the last plank of the vessel to which she was wilfully clinging, torn from under her feet. A rope was thrown towards her across the ocean by a hand which had never failed her, which if she clung to, she was safe. She sat helpless now and unresisting, seeing clearly the merits of the case. What excuse had she to refuse to listen to the plea? Was it after all her own self-immolation she was bent on, not Mr. Fielden's relief, or was she really under the influence of some

horrible power which the foreigner had gained over her?

"Oh, no, no!" she murmured, "it is too late. He would never let me off. I am afraid to draw back now."

And almost with a shriek of terror she heard a man's footstep ascending the staircase, and a hasty knock at the room-door.

It was only Mr. Fielden, and he came to say that Paoli had not been quite satisfied with his betrothed's hasty farewell, and had declared he could not sleep that night until he had repeated his adieux.

The fact was that the foreigner had been nearly worked into another fit of excited rage over his punch and backgammon, by the sound of the female voices overhead, in such long and earnest consultation. He was quite sure these “women”—he exclaimed, with a gesture and emphasis which, considering one of them was his host's wife, was not altogether politewere at work against him, undermining the mind of his betrothed. He would see her again before be went away; and when Fielden tried to remonstrate with him against this breach of bienséance, in bringing a young lady down after the other ladies of the house had retired for the night, trying to soothe his suspicions and persuade him to leave the house, he showed symptoms of returning violence, which made Fielden think it better to humor his fancy, and he obeyed him accordingly.

It might have almost appeared that Bona was either glad, and eager to escape from the further influence of Gwendoline's very powerful and almost prevailing pleadings, or that she was really under some spell of terror, which the foreigner had weaved around her; for at once she started up, and passing Fielden with a glance of despairing