addressed to himself. He could not be mistaken as to those well-known characters. The handwriting was his wife's! The ink fresh as if just used. Merciful Heaven! if such a thing could be!

His limbs almost failed him, and his senses seemed fleeing from excess of emotion. He had not strength to open the letter on which his hopes rested.

The worst is past. Return to the At midnight all shall be revealed.” "The tale I heard of her death

At last the effort was made, and doubt gave way to wildest exultation. These were the words he read : "Be of good cheer, Sir Walter. Old Inn. Seek the Haunted Room. "She lives! she lives!" he cried. was an invention. I shall behold her again-shall clasp her to my heart once more. Kind Heaven support me!-or this flood of delight will overwhelm me, and I shall die before the appointed hour."

He leaned against the tomb, and strove to control his tumultuous feelings.

At first, some misgivings would intrude upon his joy, but, by-and-by, they wholly disappeared, and his confidence in a speedy meeting with his lost wife became firm.

He

He had entered that little church a sad man, with his thoughts upon the grave, anxious only to rejoin one gone thither before him. quitted it, hopeful, joyful, clinging to the world, which he found she still tenanted.

On arriving at the Old Inn at Dunmow, he was received by pretty Peggy, the chambermaid, who told him her master and mistress were gone to Monkbury Place, in consequence of what they had heard from Mr. Roper of the great rejoicings occurring there; but she would do her best to make him comfortable in their absence. Sir Walter was surprised to find that Roper, whom he fancied he had left at the Hall, should have been at the Flitch, and he could not help connecting the steward's hurried visit with the mysterious circumstance which had just taken place at the Priory Church. No matter. If Roper gave him back his wife, he should be for ever indebted to him.

The old baronet at once proceeded to the Haunted Room, where some refreshments were set before him by Peggy, who cared little for ghosts in the daytime, and could dispense with Carroty Dick's company. However, she was punished for her temerity. Something she saw, on quitting the room, at the end of the dark corridor, made her set up a shriek, and caused the destruction of a plate she held in her hand.

Sir Walter came forth to see what was the matter, and found that the chambermaid's terror had been occasioned by a woman in tattered apparel, and of haggard looks, who was now slowly advancing towards them. Sir Walter recognised her at once. It was Alice Aggs-the mischief-maker-the cause of such dire calamity to himself, and to his wife. He motioned the woman to keep aloof, but she would not be forbidden, and creeping on, threw herself at his feet, imploring his forgiveness. Peggy pretended to hurry away-though her curiosity prompted her to remain within earshot.

"I do forgive you, woman, for the injuries you have done me," Sir Walter said, "and may Heaven forgive you likewise!"

"Then you know my lady was innocent," Alice Aggs replied. "I

came to make a clear breast of it, and tell you so. I have been a sinful woman, Sir Walter, and Heaven has requited me for my wickedness. Since the time when all those dreadful things occurred-and especially since my poor injured lady's death-I have not known a day's happiness. Nothing has prospered with me. I should have prayed to be releasedbut I feared to die. Your forgiveness has made me feel somewhat easier. Oh! if I could obtain hers!"

"Do not despair of that," Sir Walter rejoined, touched by her piteous accents. "Her heart was ever open to compassion."

"I know it," Alice groaned-" but that heart is cold now. Not even your words can move it. Hear me, Sir Walter. A curse has been laid upon my head by dying lips-and it clings to me, and will cling to the last. Poverty and distress have come upon me, and shame. But for a scanty pittance allowed me by Mr. Roper, I should have died of want long ago. All those I have known have cast me off-all others shun me. I have no refuge-not even the grave. I am ever brooding upon the past-ever lamenting it--and when you entered my miserable abode last night, I was trying to persuade myself that all would yet come right, and that my dear mistress, whom I have often seen in my dreams, not with a countenance of frowns, but with a benignant smile like an angel, would forgive me."

"And so she will," Sir Walter said. "Get up, Alice, get up. You shall know the truth. Your mistress yet lives."

"Lives!" Alice cried "lives! You would not deceive me, sir, I am sure. Yet my heart almost refuses to credit such glad tidings. Shall I see her again ?"

"You shall. And let that assurance content you for the present," Sir Walter rejoined. "Go below, and remain within the house till you are summoned. It may be past midnight before I send for you."

"I will await your pleasure, sir-if it be till dawn," Alice replied, departing; while Sir Walter re-entered the room.

"What a wicked woman!" Peggy mentally ejaculated, preceding her-" and what a very strange old gentleman. Not summon her till past midnight, indeed! I wonder why. It's quite clear I shan't get much rest to-night-but it don't matter. Master and missis won't be home till late, I dare say, from Monkbury Place, and Carroty Dick will sit up and keep me company."

Time passed slowly with Sir Walter, whose impatience was so great that he thought midnight would never arrive. He tried to read, but could not fix his attention upon the book he opened. A hundred times and more did he refer to his wife's letter to assure himself of its reality.

It grew dark, and Peggy, escorted as far as the door by Carroty Dick, brought in candles. As she threw fresh wood upon the fire, inquiring if the old gentleman wanted anything more, and receiving an answer in the negative, the inquisitive chambermaid stole a glance round the room, but she saw nothing to reward her curiosity. She could not hear even the rustle of a petticoat.

"She's not come yet, Dick," Peggy remarked to her red-polled lover on her return; "I wonder whether he expects the ghost to come to life, or what? It's something very extraordinary. I can get nothing out of

old Alice. We must wait till midnight-and then, if he calls her, I'll follow her up-stairs. You'll come with me.'

Dick gave a very

reluctant assent, and they moved off.

The wished-for hour arrived. The clock struck TWELVE !

Scarcely had the last vibrations ceased, than Sir Walter heard a slight noise in the mysterious closet. The tapestry hanging before it was drawn aside, and a female figure stood before him.

It was Lady Fitzwalter.

Pale-very pale-almost a shadow-robed in white-and looking so unearthly, that her husband for a moment doubted if she could be living. Another instant and his doubts were dispelled. She lived-she breathed. He had knelt to her-had heard her voice murmuring forgiveness-had clasped her hand, bathing it with his tears-had strained her to his heart.

Heaven grant he should not go mad with delight! Extreme joy was harder to bear than extreme wo. He thought he had nerved himself for this moment, but all gave way before the torrent, and he wept like a child.

He grew calmer. He examined her features through his blinded gaze. Still the same to him, though so fearfully attenuated. Still the same to him, though the raven locks were blanched, and the dark eyes deeply sunken in their sockets. Enough for him she lived. His beloved-his deplored his injured Juga lived. He held her in his arms. troubled dream was over, and he had awakened to indescribable happiness. He seemed to have become younger by twenty years than he had been a few moments ago.

The

The first delirious transports of the meeting over, he was able to ask for some explanation, and amidst frequent interruptions on his own parttendernesses, self-reproaches, and new entreaties for forgiveness-received from her the following particulars.

An antidote to the fatal draught she had swallowed had been promptly procured by Roper, and other restorative measures being adopted, she was brought back to an existence, which at that time was hateful to her. At first, she was incensed against her preserver, but after a time her heart being softened by the religious counsels of worthy Mr. Leslie, she became reconciled to life. But she desired it to be given out that she was no more—and so earnest were her entreaties in this respect, that her wishes were complied with, and due precautions being taken, all believed in her decease. She lived in the greatest obscurity, and was visited by no one except Roper and the curate. Her little cottage adjoined the garden of the old Hall, and communicated with it at the back. Hence, she could easily visit her former abode at night, and constantly did so. As long as the house remained untenanted, these nocturnal visits were little observed, though, even then, reports arose that a white figure had been seen gliding along the corridor; but when the place was converted into an inn, and she was more than once encountered in her walks, it could not be doubted that an apparition had been seen. Wishing to encourage the notion, she aided her spectral appearance by shroud-like attire, and managed to render her movements almost noiseless. She had recourse to other contrivances to give effect to the character she assumed. In this way she succeeded in scaring all the guests from one wing of the house, and

could weep and pray as of old, and pass the long hours of the night in the room which had once been her own. Thus years flew by. She saw nothing of her son who had been taken from her when a child-or of her husband. Both believed her dead. How indeed she continued to live on was a marvel. But at the bottom of all her grief there was Hope. Roper had always assured her that, some day, her innocence would be established, and a reconciliation take place between her and Sir Walter. That day was long in coming-but it had come at last.

Her nocturnal visits were not entirely confined to the old house. Sometimes, she repaired to the little Priory Church to pray. She had access to the vaults, from which there was a secret entrance to the interior of the sacred fabric, by means of a movable gravestone. She was there when Sir Walter entered the sacred structure on the previous night. She had heard his self-accusations and bitter regrets-and had with difficulty refrained from declaring herself. But she had not then consulted with Roper, and waited for his advice. Not seeing the steward that night, she paid her customary visit to her old room-and it was needless to repeat what had then occurred. When she was hastily apprised by Roper, on the morrow, of her husband's movements, she again sought the old Priory Church-found Sir Walter there-and placed the letter in his way.

Then came Sir Walter's turn. He acquainted her with all that had recently happened to him. He told her of his reconciliation with their son. He expressed his perfect satisfaction at Alured's marriage and spoke in rapturous terms of their daughter-in-law. He detailed the strange discoveries that had been made at Monkbury Place -which, strange as they were, were not equal to the last and greatest discovery reserved for him-that of his lost wife. And then he recollected, from the hint thrown out by him, that the Squire must be aware that Lady Fitzwalter was still alive-having no doubt been made acquainted with the secret by Roper.

One circumstance only required explanation. Sir Walter approached it with a vague sense of dread-but all must now be made clear.

"On your disappearance last night," he said, "when I followed you to the verge of that closet, another phantom-as I then deemed it-rose before me. Was it of your contrivance?"

"No," she replied, looking hard at him.

"Then, indeed, it was a spirit I beheld," Fitzwalter pursued.

stood there there where I point-ha!"

And he became suddenly fixed in an attitude of terror.

"It

"What do you behold?" Lady Fitzwalter demanded, looking in the same direction, but perceiving nothing.

"It is he-my friend," he rejoined. "His aspect is wholly changed. It wears a heavenly smile. I am pardoned-pardoned. He accepts my atonement."

And he dropped upon his knees, stretching out his hands.

"Is it gone?" Lady Fitzwalter asked, observing a change in his coun

tenance.

"Even so,” he replied. "Pray with me, Juga,-pray with me." She complied, and they joined together in fervent supplication. When they arose with lightened hearts, Alice Aggs was summoned

to receive her lady's forgiveness. It seemed as if the wretched woman was but spared for this, for next day she went to her account. But she died in peace.

II.

AMURATH, THE TURK.

NEARLY six months had elapsed, and June had arrived in all its warmth and beauty.

A delightful evening. Beneath one of the great elm-trees in front of the Old Inn a large and merry party were assembled. They were enjoying the refreshing coolness of the twilight hour-and a bowl of capital punch at the same time.

A bench encircled the enormous trunk of the old tree-from one of the arms of which the famous sign of the Flitch was suspended—and this accommodated Jonas and his wife; but the rest of the party were gathered round the table, on which pipes, glasses, and a mighty punchbowl were set. The company consisted for the most part of the Jury of Bachelors and Maidens; but besides these there were the Bailiff of Dunmow and two of the burgesses, Parson Bush, the Squire's chaplain, and Will Crane, the Squire's head huntsman. All were guests of the hospitable landlord, who had invited them to a little merry-making, preparatory to a very important event, in connexion with himself, which was to come off on the morrow.

At a smaller table, beneath the sister elm-tree, the Dunmow minstrels were placed two fiddles, a flute, and a bassoon-ready for song or dance as the company might require.

The evening, we repeat, was delightful-cool, calm, and bright. Laden with sweet scents from new-mown meadows on the banks of the Chelmer came the soft western breeze. Swifts and swallows were skimming past, twittering, or catching flies on the placid stream. Among the still-busy fields might be seen well-filled hay-carts wending their way towards lofty stacks. Pleasant sounds reached the ear-the warbling of the blackbird and thrush-the merry laughter of the jocund bands of haymakers-the mower whetting his scythe-the cawing of rooksthe hum of the dor-fly-and the distant jingling of tiny bells, announcing the approach of the Chelmsford waggon.

Viewed in that rosy twilight, how picturesque and beautiful looked the Old Inn! And how well the merry party beneath the great elmtree harmonised with it! It was the very hour on which to arrive there. And so thought a traveller who was slowly approaching it in the Chelmsford waggon, before mentioned.

But before this traveller reaches his destination, let us see what our worthy host was about. Full of confidence in the speedy realisation of his long-cherished wishes, the little fellow was in a state of positive beatitude. Next day, the Flitch would be his own. At noon, tomorrow, his claim was to be made at the Court Baron of Little Dunmow, and the decision was certain to be in his favour. Quite certain. Could he not answer-most satisfactorily-every question likely to be put to him? Could not Nelly do the same? Had they not plenty of witnesses to corroborate their assertions ?-highly-respectable witnesses—