rupting her, and she was permitted to go on to the end with her disgusting appeal. Stung to madness by the sudden discovery of the depth of that abyss he had been plunged into, he loathed the very sight of her who had betrayed him. With the fury of a maniac he rushed from the house, and, in the delirium that ensued, fled from the city and the kingdom that contained her. Posting with the impetuosity of one who hopes to forget his misfortune in the speed with which he travels, he flew over the continent of Europe, and, at length, found himself, he knew not very well how, at Eaglesholme.

But we have not yet told the full extent of his misery. Some dreadful reports reached him, representing Lady Deborah as guilty of crimes, of which, though he had no share in them, he was innocently the cause. So agonizing was the torture, endured by the sensitive mind of Lord Eaglesholme, from this reflection, that his brain became partially unsettled, and produced those paroxysms, bordering upon insanity, of which he was afterwards at times the slave.

WHILST Amherst was listening to the particulars of Lord Eaglesholme's story, Eliza had walked out. More impatient than ever to learn her early history from herself, he now hastened to follow her along one of those delicious shrubbery

walks, where he had often rambled with another

companion.

He found her seated in that very temple of Ve nus, where he had once so nearly sacrificed himself to the artificial Olivia. A thousand recollections crowded on his mind. He shuddered at the narrow escape he had then made. Even his disagreeable dream at Eaglesholme shot across his memory. But these remembrances only made his present happiness the sweeter.

The free converse the lovers now enjoyed was exquisitely delicious, from the long train of misery they had both endured since they last parted in Scotland. They ran over all their distresses, and, after these, dwelt with delight on their first interview, and on those days of happiness, during which their infant love grew so rapidly to its full strength. They talked of the chapel scene-of the certain death from which she had been snatchby the exertions of Amherst ;—and this led them to think of the wonderful being who had so providentially interposed upon that occasion, as well as afterwards, in enabling Amherst to effect the escape of Eliza from Loch-an-Eilana

ted

They were expressing their mutual curiosity to

have the mystery that hung over that extraordinary creature cleared away, when in an instant she stood before them. 1. U

Both started with surprise. Her countenance now bore a very different expression, from that which had so lately bowed down the proud heart of the Lady Deborah. There was a softness, an affection,-a mingled sorrow in her face, never seen there, except when she addressed Eliza

66

"Offspring of her who is now a saint in Hea ven!" said she, in a mild and tender accentdaughter of my beloved mistress! the time is now at hand, when, having finished my task, I may creep into some hole to die, like the wasted and winter-stricken ewe, that bears the insolent buttings of the flock, till death relieves her from her misery. When justice shall have been done thee, my sweet dove, I may bid the scornful world adieu for ever.

"It matters not where this hideous morsel of mortality my spirit has worn so long, shall moulder into dust, so that the night-fox, or the hill-raven, have it not for food. But yet, uncouth and fearful as my form appears, it does contain as much humanity as larger and more perfect bodies hold.

"You talked of me as I stole on you, and I wondered much to hear kindly feelings, and grateful wishes uttered in the same breath that mentioned me, so long have I been used to hear the taunts and insults of those whom it has pleased their Creator and mine to mould more happily.

"As you spoke, you reminded me of your mo ther, and of her I cannot think without these tear-drops. But now I am composed. Tis fitting that you know from me what ties once held me to that saint, whilst yet on earth, and from whence sprung the care with which I have never ceased to watch your fortunes. I will sit me down on this green sod, and tell you all; all, at least, that you ought to know; and for once I will indulge in human feelings-for once I will revel in the consciousness of having done good, so gratifying to human nature.-Listen then :

"I was born amid the wild mountains of Wales. My father was a shepherd on the estate of the Earl of Llanstephan, the father of Lady Deborah Delassaux. The miseries I suffered from my wretched figure began almost from my cradle. I went to school, but I was soon driven from it by the hootings and insults of the rude