move him as he had been to bring him into this detestable place. It was not, however, till the deluded Charles had staked and lost his last guinea, that he wandered off in a state of mind which no description could faithfully pourtray.

He left the gambling house alone, for Mr. Hunter had long before retired, well satisfied to find once more in his own possession the greater part of the fifty pounds he had so recently transferred to Charles.

CHAPTER XIII.

ALL that afternoon Matilda expected the return of her husband, with a tenderness and solicitude, which his heavy misconduct had of late, in some degree, banished.

As long as it was possible to give him her affection she had bestowed it; but when his inveterate irresolution, and continual feebleness of purpose, had robbed him of her respect, it had been only the mild but cold attentions of obedience that her strong principles of duty could enable her to shew him.

But on this day a feeling of compassion revived towards him, excited by the gentleness of her nature, which could never look upon any sorrow without sympathy: and that he was in real sorrow she had never been so truly convinced as she was by the dejection of his tone and manner that morning, when he spoke of being miserable.

She thought, too, on recurring to the recollection of the last few days, that he had looked more than usually ill; for ill, indeed, were now his general looks. A life of dissipation had done its usual work -and haggard cheeks, and hollow eyes, and faded appearance, already began to testify that health, among his many other precious gifts, had been squandered in the pursuit of pleasure.

She thought too that, if not unkind, she had failed to be as affectionate, as solicitous about him, as it was in her nature ever to have been-if he would but have permitted it; and thus taxing, though far too severely, her timid, doubting heart, she waited. with anxious fondness the moment of his returnthat she might speak to him most tenderly-soothe away, the fresh troubles that disturbed him-and prove to him, that whatever might be their number and degree, one faithful friend was still left to him, who would not forsake him, while she had the power to be useful or to be kind.

Thus, having discoursed with her heart, she became disappointed, and vexed at his protracted return. Not alarmed-for, alas! she was too well acquainted with this manner of passing many a solitary hour, to feel surprise at his continued absence. The dinner she had provided for him with particular attention to his prevailing taste, was taken away, and he returned not-the evening passed, and still he did not arrive. But this was not unusual; and Matilda now not expecting his return till some hour before eight or nine o'clock the next day, retired, with a heavy sigh, to her pillow.

But when eight, and nine, and ten o'clock the next VOL. II.-N

day did actually arrive, but no Charles, she became a prey to the most anxious alarm. He never had stayed away from home so long before!-He must be in some difficulty-in some danger. Her agitation became extreme. No situation of mental uneasiness is comparable to that of waiting long and anxiously the approach of another, more especially if the expected person be one from whom we recently parted uncomfortably. At such a time imagination has its full play. It is not only every possible evil to have befallen the absent that she represents, but intent upon making torture as complete as possible, she incessantly suggests what our self-reproach and agony will be when the worst is known. That some serious accident had befallen Charles she had thoroughly persuaded herself, when the day advanced and he returned not.

"How unkindly, how inconsiderately have I spo-. ken to him of late!" said she, in the bitterness of self accusation most unjustly accusing herself, who knew not how to speak or act unkindly to any thing that breathed. "No compassion for him," she continued, "none, none !”

But incessant tears interrupted her words, and thus more than another hour elapsed. At the end of that time, she determined to repair to Mr. Hun. ter's, as the only place in which there was a chance of her hearing any intelligence of him.

On arriving there and inquiring for Mr. Hunter, she was informed he was not within; though the countenance of the servant seemed, she thought, to contradict such an assertion. But she could not return without an attempt at seeing some part of the

family, so she inquired if either of the Miss Hunters could be seen. "I must speak to one of them," she said with an earnestness which prevented the negative that otherwise awaited her question.

Miss Hunter, he believed, was upstairs; and he led the way to the drawing room, where that young lady was seated, playing with a little French dog,

She greeted Matilda with a careless "how d'ye do?" and was about to express some wonder at her being so unusually favoured, Matilda never volunteering a visit to that house, but, on the contrary, always avoiding it, when her husband left her an option.

But on perceiving the breathless haste with which. she inquired "do you know any thing of Charles ?" and observing the agitation of her countenance and manner, she restrained her words, and returned a decisive answer, by assuring her that she had neither seen nor heard any thing of him.

"Has he then been playing truant?" she asked with the utmost indifference.

Matilda made no answer, and she went on to say, "Alas, that is no uncommon thing for husbands to do; and Charles, I should think, as likely as any of them."

She was proceeding in this strain of raillery, which was, at the present moment, utterly insupportable to Matilda, as hastily, therefore, as she had entered the room, she was departing from it, when Miss Hunter arrested her steps by saying,

"Oh, don't be in such a hurry, Mrs. Harcourt, perhaps my father may know something about him

I will run and ask him: but just let me know how long he has been lost?"

Utterly overpowered by this unseasonable levity, Matilda turned to the window to conceal her tears; upon which Miss Hunter, slightly confused with an idea of having been somewhat unfeeling and abrupt, began to attempt something like an apology.

"I beg your pardon-I really was not aware the matter was so serious."

"If you will be so obliging as to ask Mr. Hunter," Matilda did just articulate, in her earnest desire to get rid of her.

"Oh, certainly-this moment!" returned Miss Hunter, not less anxious to escape; sentimentalities, as she called any thing like nature or feeling, being what she most abhorred to encounter.

She was gone, and Matilda, roused into exertion by meeting with this unsympathising conduct, was able to employ the interval of her absence in controlling her emotion, and arming herself with forti

tude.

So long a time elapsed before she heard any signal of approaching footsteps, that she was on the point of ringing the bell to ask if Mr. Hunter was. likely to appear, when the door opened, and he entered the room.

Taught by her recent interview with the daughter, to expect but little consolation for her anxieties from any part of the family, with a more composed manner she repeated her inquiry if Mr. Hunter could give her any intelligence of Charles. ~

"I am fearful some accident must have—”