was crushed beneath your wheels. But it was all a dream. Pray, walk in, my Lady—you have been kind, kind to me;"—and taking Miss Delassaux by the hand with a pleased and happy smile, "come in," said she, "pray, come in, my Lady; our cottage is not so nice as it used to be -the vines and roses are all withered. But my husband and baby are quite well now; your kind relief has saved them both. May Heaven, in its justice, reward you for it, and make you one day as happy as you have made me !"

Miss Delassaux appeared astonished and perplexed, but though young, she was an able actress. The part she was now playing was deep, and too important to be slighted. Turning half round, therefore, she said to Amherst with a look of extreme sentiment,

“I am sure, Mr Oakenwold, you, who have doubtless often experienced such feelings, must envy me mine at this moment;" and then putting her white handkerchief to her eyes, as if perfectly overcome, she permitted herself to be led into the hovel by the wretched lunatic.

Good Heaven! what a scene ensued! The corpse of Morley and the child were both lying

exposed. Amherst, anticipating what must follow, could not bear to remain to witness it. As he darted towards the lane, he heard the piercing shriek of Miss Delassaux, and the wild laugh of the maniac rang in his ears, as he hastily continued his retreat. He instinctively put up his hands to shut out the sound, but in vain, for fancy made him hear and see the whole that passed, and he shuddered to think of it.

On his way homeward, as he recovered himself, in some degree, from the agitated state of mind the melancholy and distressing events of the day had thrown him into, his thoughts naturally reverted to that brilliant dream of happiness he was lulled into, by the fascination of the enchanting Miss Delassaux, whilst he yet believed her to be an angel. How few hours had elapsed since that dream had fled!-He was almost tempted to hesitate whether he was not now under some delusion. That a heart so unfeeling should exist in the bosom of so lovely a person, and that so much art should be possessed by one so young, seemed to render her, in his eyes, a monster he could not have believed to have ex

istence in nature. He trembled when he looked back to the precipice he had so recently stood on, and from which he had so narrowly escaped. He felt confounded, when he reflected how long, and how perfectly the mask had deceived him, and by what accident it had been at last torn off, so as to give him resolution and strength to burst the snares of her of whose hypocrisy he was now too surely convinced.

There was something in O'Gollochar's account of Antonio the Neapolitan, that gave him an air of mystery. Why should such a ruffian, as he appeared, be retained in the service of Lady Deboral and her niece, and cherished and protected, too, with all the care that might have been bestowed, with better justice, on the long tried worth of a faithful and respectable domestic? There was something very unaccountable and perplexing in this, nor could all his speculation bring him to any thing like a probable interpretation of it.

The result of Amherst's reflections was, that before he reached home, not only were all thoughts of connecting himself with Miss Delas

saux decidedly and for ever abandoned, but as youth, in its impetuosity, pushes every thing to extremity, he determined to avoid every chance of meeting her again. As he never had been aware of his father's intentions regarding his marriage, he, of course, never once contemplated the necessity of making a confidant of the Admiral, whom he had not suspected of entertaining any idea of his transient passion, nor had it entered his head to communicate to him the resolution he had now taken, never again to set his foot within the precincts of Brokenhurst-Hall.

Amherst was sufficiently occupied for some days with the concerns of the unfortunate widow. He sent for Cornelius O'Gollochar, who became an active and willing agent in assisting the shopkeeper to provide for the decent interment of poor Morley and his infant. The widow herself had been removed to a comfortable house in the village, where the distress she had undergone produced a violent fever, during which she struggled for life for about sixty hours. The best medical advice that could be procured was sent to her by Amherst, and although she was more than once despaired of, the disease finally yielded to the

remedies employed. She was left in a very weak state for some days, during which she slept almost without intermission.

So much repose, no doubt, contributed to the reduction of her mental malady. As she began to recover strength of body, reason gradually resumed its full power over her. Her religion was of the purest and most rational description, and as the state of her mind began to permit the exercise of its influence, it became as a healing balm to her wounded soul. Having been made aware of all that had been done for her, she gradually brought herself to bow with humble submission to the will of Heaven, and breathed silent thanksgivings to that all-wise Being, who had raised her up a protector in the person of Amherst, to whom her gratitude was unbounded.

The old Admiral was for some time in happy ignorance, that his plans regarding his son's marriage were not working themselves out to his entire satisfaction. One morning, however, a servant arrived with an invitation to the family at Oakenwold Manor, to spend the next day, and to dine at Brokenhurst-Hall.

"Amherst," said Sir Cable," do you sit down,