"Like to the baseless fabric of a vision,"

they had dissolved indeed, and

"Left not a wreck behind,"

only the coffin in that dreary, spelllike house; and over the remains of her who had made herself a fruitless victim for his sake-his wife, the only mourner-he read next day the Burial Service.

Well might poor Mrs. Fielden's melancholy prophetic gaze have said no good would come of her husband's receiving those stranger boarders.

Nor was their trouble then over. The day after the funeral, a Maltese lawyer waited upon the English clergyman, to sue him for a debt of two hundred pounds due to Count Paoli's deceased wife, the written promised payment of which, he had found amongst her papers.

This was a shock, but one which had in imagination been ever hanging over Mrs. Fielden's head. Fortunately she had managed to save a little money at Seacombe, and since then they had been living entirely

at Gwendoline's expense, who had left ample means for every outlay till they rejoined her. The demand might, in short, have come at a still more inconvenient moment. They had, of course, to negotiate terms of delay, and so forth, with the avocat, the money being far from available on the spot; indeed, Mrs. Fielden would have been, it is to be confessed, far more overwhelmed by this catastrophe, had she not a pretty certain understanding, that Gwendoline always intended taking this liability upon herself if ever it came upon them, and that the letter following her by the next mail, informing her of the circumstance, would bring an answer, relieving them entirely from this new misfortune. They were to have remained in Malta, at any rate, till Gwendoline's instructions were completed; and as the lawyer had been commissioned by Paoli, only to get the payment of his wife's debt settled with the English clergyman before he left the island, he was satisfied with taking out a writ of detention there against him.

ridiculous aspirations into which this self-constituted magnate of Valetta had once beguiled him!

In the meanwhile the vessel from Malta, with the rest of our company on board, was making speedy way, with fair winds and a tranquil sea. Almost simultaneously with the Gibsons and Gwendoline's embarkation that morning, a young man of most enfeebled and sickly appearance, had also come on board;

and though but slightly recognized | by Gwendoline, it was yet evident to her companions, from the manner of that recognition, that he was the invalid cousin whom the Fieldens had already informed them Miss Lawson had found domesticated at the foreigner's, and whose intended return to England in the same steamer she had also communicated.

With what a strange and curious interest was he regarded by one of that party!-for in this same cousin, Edgar Campbell doubted not that he beheld at last identified, that hitherto mythical, but none the less distracting personage, who had stood, shadow-like, between him and his most tenderly-cherished hopes his trust, too, in Gwendoline, in her faith, her purity, her truth. How could he doubt any longer that he had been deceived wantonly trifled with, to say the least? Did not the words she had once spoken in half-playful impatience, just after a private conversation they had together upon the unexplained mystery of her uncle's declaration, when she was suddenly called to sign her name in some visitor's book, interpret themselves now, at the best as a miserable equivocation?

her ill-fated young husband. She had met, and for the first time, perhaps, had loved another-had kept her marriage a secret from him, which might not have been so difficult to accomplish; but to keep it from those others with whom she had been so intimately associated, and to persist in this still inexplicable concealment, appeared very like waiting for that death, so plainly written upon the young man's brow, to strike the final blow and set her free.

"Wait till we get to England!" Whilst looking on that poor sufferer's face, that promise which she had exacted from him, struck upon his heart now with horrible signifi

cance.

So it is, "to be wroth with one we love," or else was there not something in his every glance at Gwendoline, which rebuked the possibility even of such an idea; which told him that he who could harbor such a supposition, connect aught that was not true, and pure, and noble with the story of her life, who was not able still to hope against hope, trust against trust even, was unworthy of her?

A very different being was she who now returned to England, to her who had started with the Fieldens on her foreign expedition, all sanguine hope, and lively energy; yet all the more striking was the interest, perhaps more influential the feeling she inspired in her indrawn grief, and proud yet softened dignity of grieved and wounded feeling, in the purpose of her selfconsecration to a life of sacrifice and charity.

She moved amidst the other passengers of the vessel, in the deep mourning cloak she had procured at Valetta the preceding day, contrasting strangely with the fair hair and complexion of the wearer, as

one apart and superior, to whom each and all, instinctively paid a natural homage.

Mr. Gibson and his daughter showed her every kindness and attention; perhaps it was but human nature that their good will was certainly not diminished by the evident estrangement which had established itself between her and Edgar.

The invalid cousin attracted something, too, of Mr. Gibson's interest and curiosity; he had sprung up so suddenly and ambiguously upon the scene-his having been found in the house of the Paolis at all, seemed so strange.

And when he touched upon the subject to his stepson, Edgar looked so disturbed and uncomfortable that he could not but suspect the existence of something mysterious connected with the circumstance.

The condition and appearance of the young man himself, the marks of intense suffering, mentally, as well as physically, added to the rapid progress of disease, stamped upon his whole countenance and bearing, could scarcely fail, indeed, of themselves, to attract the interest and compassion even of strangers.

He stayed on deck mostly at first, on a couch, which was prepared for him. Gwendoline was sometimes near him; indeed, as was natural, considering their near relationship, she seemed to take upon herself in a kind, womanly way, the responsibility of his care and comfort, and the transformation the sufferer's whole appearance underwent at her approach, on the slightest notice, was but too perceptible. What a feverish glow to his cheek, and melancholy light to his wonderful large eyes, some trifling service or attention, gravely, coldly, though it might have seemed, paid by her, would elicit !

Edgar Campbell's eager eyes

marked it all but too well, and his generous heart, moreover, pitied him who testified these signs of deep feeling. How should it be otherwise, for did he not see in the young man a fellow-victim rather than a rival?

When he was below, out of Gwendoline's presence, he often spoke to Jaspar Lawson with kindness and sympathy; and when, during the latter part of the short voyage from Malta to England, the poor young man became so weak that he was obliged to remain entirely below in his berth, no longer accessible to Gwendoline's supervision, it was to Edgar Campbell's attention and kindness he was chiefly indebted.

And Edgar could not fail to perceive the deep and peculiar emotion with which these attentions of his were received by the other—the painful interest with which the young man had from the first regarded him, and guessed, of course, the cause. He fancied, too, when the intimacy, which time and closer communication further developed, that he would gladly, as one who is near to death, have thrown off all reserve, and expanded into the most perfect openness as to all concerning him. He did, indeed, speak of himself as of one to whom this world had been but a short course of wretchedness, and would look earnestly into his listener's face, as if desirous of being encouraged to further confidence. Nor could Edgar entirely allow this opportunity, so directly offered to him of putting an end to further doubt and mystery, and of ascertaining at once the truth with regard to Gwendoline, to pass away from him. It was the last day of the short voyage from Malta; they would reach Southampton in the evening. Edgar felt the crisis of his fate in life was approaching, that the separation which their arrival in England would entail be

tween himself and Gwendoline, must probably be final. He thought even that his feelings were changed, and that he had become at least sternly resigned to the necessity of abandoning all hope; but he was deceived. His life lay before him as blank, as dreary and as blighted, as when he stood by the grave-stone in Seacombe churchyard, and first found that he was motherless.

Willingly would he have changed places with Jaspar Lawson, such were his real feelings of inward despondency.

He was stretched upon a couch in the cabin in the sick man's vicinity; they were alone: suddenly he started up, and said without any preparation

"And you go to London to-night with your cousin ?"

Over Jaspar's colorless face came a hot hectic flush, at the question so impulsively and suddenly demanded.

Yes," be gasped. "I am to go to my father's at Lincoln's Inn, I believe, to die-and she says she goes there also."

"You do not know perhaps," Edgar continued, eagerly, "that I once had an interview with your father."

Jaspar did not reply but by a look of anxious inquiry.

"It was at your cousin's own desire that I went to him," Edgar now went on impatiently to say, "to have my fate concerning her decided, and he told me what should at once have satisfied me and determined me never to look upon her face again. And I had so resolved, but she came across my path again. She herself had desired the interview. Of the truth of your father's declaration she wished to convince

"My father told you," interrupted Jaspar, interrogatively, grasping the speaker's wrist with a convulsive pressure, "that she was married ?"

Edgar motioned an assent.

"To me?" the other continued hoarsely and faintly.

"No," was the passionate answer; "that I did not ascertain until just now at Malta."

Jaspar Lawson sank back again, as if too much overcome to proceed, and what more did Edgar now expect or require? Had he not obtained at last, a plain, indubitable asseveration of the fact he ought never to have doubted?

"When did the marriage take place?" he asked, when after a gloomy pause he looked up, and saw Jaspar's eyes still fixed eagerly and anxiously upon him, and felt it would be better for him to hear some further particulars. 'You must have been very young indeed?"

66

The young man did not immediately reply, nor notice, indeed, at all the question or observation; he was struggling evidently with an anxious desire to continue from the point from which he had broken off.

"You were deceived," he at length had strength to utter, gaspingly, "given a false impression, to say the least of it; and she-she. has been too merciful, too generous to others to set you right I see. I owe it to her to you to explain. I know not how it may be when I am gone; she must not be lost sight of by one-who might protect her from further self-sacrifice."

Edgar bent over the speaker to hear his words, with astonished avidity.

Will you listen to me," Jaspar asked, "if I try to tell you the true story?"

"Of course," murmured Edgar, eagerly, handing the invalid some restorative he kept near him; "but

take your time; do not agitate, nor burry yourself."

And by degrees, pausing at intervals to recover strength, the lawyer's son told his painful and humiliating story; told of his boyhood's growing idolatry for his cousin; of that one strong passion. of his else weak, nerveless nature, fostered and encouraged by his selfish and unloving father, to such peace and health-destroying power, for that father's own mercenary and covetous purposes; of the understanding especially, so early given him, that Gwendoline was to be his wife, through the arrangements and dying desire of her father; spoke of the undeviating disdain or derision with which any betrayal of his boyish passion had ever inspired his girlish but strong-minded cousin, and of the ignorance in which she was consequently kept as to any such intention, for the avoidance of every scene which might increase the difficulties, which would occur from her too certain resistance and refusal.

Then how on her sixteenth birthday, Jaspar having been given to understand that her consent had been gained, she was at last decoyed into a church, and the marriage ceremony imposed upon her when, he had since been led to suppose, she was but in a half conscious condition; her horror and indignation when brought afterwards to the full knowledge of what had taken place; how she had only yielded to his father's abject supplication to let the matter rest for the present, by being suffered immediately to return to the school establishment from which she had been beguiled in the morning, and where for the five subsequent years she had continued to reside, never holding further intercourse with son or father, except on those business occasions when the lawyer visited

her, bearing ignominiously in his train himself, his tool and victim, on whom her withering contempt and utter abnegation had now fallen. How, ignoring any virtual power that the enforced marriage ceremony could ever exercise over her, she waited only till her coming of age-as she had, indeed, promised her uncle-before taking any unequivocal steps to obtain her further emancipation; that then, her uncle seemed to concur in her own generous desire, that the matter should be settled in as private and unconspicuous a manner as possible. That she had come with him to his residence in Lincoln's Inn for that purpose, but that in reality his father's object was to make a last desperate effort to draw his niece. further into his snares; and this scheme having failed through his, Jaspar's, own refusal to co-operate in his designs, he had sent his son out of the way, in order that he might not, on the other hand, be forthcoming, should Gwendoline decide to bring her case before other legal advisers.

To this curious family story, told by an excusably alienated son against an unnatural and unworthy father, it may be supposed Edgar listened, as one who feels gradually the scales of doubt and darkness being removed from his eyes, and light and joy again appearing.

They were interrupted by Mr. Gibson. He had come, he said, by Jaspar's cousin's own desire to inquire after the invalid, and to suggest that it would be better to make such gradual preparation, as might lessen the fatigue of the final exertion at the termination of the voyage.

"She is very good," murmured the young man, as he made a faint, but ineffectual effort to rouse himself, then lay back with closed eyelids, much exhausted; yet with an