way or other, and we can regulate our proceedings accordingly. We shall get off, I hope, very easily, as I can testify that every thing was done in the most fair and honourable manner. If you live, you will remember that a month will satisfy your doubts." As he said this he left the room, and I was heartily glad to be quit of such an incarnation of selfishness and prose.

The operation was performed; the bandages applied, and the wound declared not dangerous before Sir Wilfred appeared. When I opened my eyes, after a deep sleep, which I owed to the opiate I had taken, he was sitting by the side of my bed.

"You have commenced your career well," he said, with a melancholy smile. "A duel about a lady before you have been six weeks in town gives the best augury of your future fame."

"It was wrong; I know it was wrong," I replied; "but I had been deceived-and insulted-and”

"And now you are wounded. Of course you are deceived no longer?"

"At any rate," I said, fixing my eye upon him to watch if my words had any effect, "I shall not be so easily deceived in future. It is enough to be once taken in by an adventurer, in the disguise of the sister of a friend."

"You are right," he said, without changing a muscle of his countenance; "if this duel shall have taught you experience, the wound will not be too high a price for the lesson."

His manner was so kind-his attentions so unremitting, and his sentiments so pure and dignified, that I felt my indignation rise higher and higher every hour against the wretch who had dared to slander him with his suspicions.

In about a week I was allowed to spend some hours of every day on the sofa in my own apartment; still very weak, and owing almost all the sleep I obtained to opiates. On seeing me so far recovered, Sir Wilfred had told me that he was under the necessity of being absent for some time on business, which he had delayed on account of my accident. But, with books, which I was

now able to read, and my own reflections, the time did not hang very heavy on my hands.

One day, when I had sunk into the dreamy kind of slumber which opium sometimes produces, I thought I perceived my door to open, and the figure of a young girl, dressed in a style I had never seen before, glide with a noiseless footstep through the room. I was in such a half-awake, half-conscious state, from the languor of recent illness, and the narcotic drug, that I did not know whether the apparition was real, or the creation of my sleep. Whichever it was, I watched the intruder. A long hood, projecting a great way in front of the face, rendered the features invisible, unless when you caught a full-front view, and then they were so darkened by the drapery as not to be very distinct. Her figure was light and graceful, and the elegance of her motions could not be hid even by the long white robe, which was tied in at the waist by a twisted silk cord, and left to flow loosely down to the feet. Round her neck was a rosary. She walked towards a bookstand, at the farther end of the room, without noticing me, and after a short and ineffectual search for the volume she wanted, was about to retire in the same vision-like way she had entered. But I placed myself between her and the door. She started visibly when she perceived me; but uttered no sound; only pulling the hood more completely over her features than before. She stood before me with her head bowed low and her hands meekly folded across her chest. And now that I had debarred her exit, I did not know how to begin a conversation. At last I said, "You were searching for a book, madam. Will you let me help you to discover it?"

"It is useless, monsieur," she said, in a very sweet, and somewhat foreign accent. "I believe the books I wanted are removed. Let me retire, I pray you; my absence will be noticed."

"Andwhither would you retire ? And who would notice your absence?"

"Let me go-let me go.-I shall be chidden for my delay."

"Nay, first satisfy my curiosity,"

I replied, " and I promise you a free passage. Do you live in this house ?" "I do."

"And who will chide you if you stay a moment longer?"

"I have no right to answer that." "Then, by Heavens," I said, "I will make the discovery myself."

"It will be better for us all if you do not make the attempt. Sir Wilfred will not forgive it."

"Sir Wilfred!" I said, my conversation with M'Selphish rushing into my mind. "I have a problem to solve, and this hour shall see me satisfied. Where you go I follow." She seemed to see that farther speech was useless, so, bending her head more lowly than before, she glided past me, and I followed through several passages, then up some steps, through a long corridor, at the end of which she gently opened a heavy oaken door. On getting within the door I found my self in a dark passage, which twisted first to one hand, then to another; and at the last turning, a velvet curtain, tucked up at one end, admitted me into an apartment, to which the light was introduced through a very lofty window of stained glass of the darkest colours. The room was so sombre, that for some time I could see the furniture very indistinctly. At last, when my eye got accustomed to the gloom, I perceived my guide standing reverently, with her arms still folded over her breast, at the side of another figure, which was kneeling before a table covered with red velvet, at the farther end of the room. Both were silent; and the head of the kneeling figure was bent over the table, and her hands spread out and clasped together, as we see in the pictures of humility and supplication. She rose, at last, to her feet, and I felt awe-struck and embarrassed by the sight of such a commanding figure, and a consciousness of the awkwardness of my situation. Her dress was the same as that of my visitor, only the tallness of the figure gave it a still finer effect.

"Eulalie," she said, without turning round," the volume-hast thou brought it to me?"

"Alas, madam, it is not there. Sir Wilfred has removed the furniture

"Sir Wilfred, madam, is from home. He had been absent a week when we arrived."

"And the stranger-who is he?" "Madam, I know not who he is. He is here."

"Here!" cried the lady, in an impassioned voice-and, turning round, she moved two or three steps towards the place where I stood. Then, suddenly stopping short, and throwing the hood, which concealed her features back upon her shoulders, she stood with her eyes earnestly fixed upon my face, and her whole figure stiff and rigid, as if she had suddenly been hardened into stone. Her features, even though they were at this moment moulded into the expression of fear, and almost of horror, were exquisitely feminine. Her lips partly opened, her head slightly protruded, and her arms held out before her, together with the fixed and glassy expression of her eyes, gave me the impression of a sybil about to give forth her oracles. "Thou hast come to me, then, at last," she said, "to upbraid me with the miseries I have caused thee. Know'st thou not how fearfully they have been revenged? Hear me hear me, Edward, before thy curse is spoken. I have wept; I have mourned. I have repented.Is it all in vain? In vain that I have wasted my years in sorrow;-forsaken the world-forgotten my ambition? Speak! say, at least, that thou forgivest me."

She clasped

her hands together as she said this, and gazed on me so piteously, compassion, no less than astonishment, kept me silent.

"Edward Lonsdale!" she resumed, "is thy heart so changed that thou hast no pity upon me. Pity!

ay, even so, for pride is vanquished now. At your feet, upon my knees"

"Nay, madam; compose yourself," said the young girl, who was still enveloped in her hood. "This gentleman is a stranger. He knows you not. Oh, sir," she said, turning

to me, "pray leave us-forget this. I will explain it all. I will come to you to-morrow. Come, madam, support yourself on me." She motioned me to retire; and the lady seemed now unconscious of my pre

sence, though her eye was still intently fixed on me. I glided noiselessly behind the curtain, and heard a heavy fall, accompanied by a slight scream, as its drapery closed behind me.

NEXT day, my heart was busy with many thoughts. The scene I had witnessed was the more inexplicable the more I reflected upon it. The excitement my appearance had produced-the majestic figure of the recluse-the tones of her voice so thrilling and impressive and all this, so like the fiction of a romance, occurring in the every day world of London, struck me as something so extraordinary, that I was determined to discover the mystery, even at the risk of incurring Sir Wilfred's displeasure. I was half inclined to hope that my guide of the former day would redeem the promise she had made me, and would come to me to give me an explanation of the adventure; but then the promise had been given at so hurried a moment, and so evidently for the purpose of getting quit of an intruder, that there was little likelihood of its fulfil ment, and I came to the resolution of boldly presenting myself at the door of the oratory, and making the discovery for myself. As I lay musing upon these plans and occurrences, I heard a sweet clear voice at the door of my apartment say, "Signor, I am here." I was startled at the sound, for I had heard no one enter the room. I started from the sofa, and standing in the same meek attitude as before, with her head bent down, and hands clasped together, I saw my yesterday's acquaintance-her features still concealed by the drapery of her hood. I led her to the sofa.

"Yesterday," she said, "I ргоmised to explain the causes of what you saw-I ask you now to excuse me from performing my promise."

"You ask me more than I can grant," I answered. "I think from my own name being mentioned, and the questions that were addressed to me, I have some right to have my curiosity gratified."

"Then your name is Edward Lonsdale ?" she said.

"It is."

"And you were born at Ellersby?" "Yes."

"Then the Lady Alice was right

only at times she lets her imagination acquire the mastery. She has had many sorrows, but she struggles against the remembrances of them nobly."

"May I see her," I said; "may I answer her, myself, any question she may please to ask me?"

"No-but she bade me say to you, the time may come when she will tell you all-not now."

"All what? Am I in any way concerned in her history?"

"I know not. I but repeat to you the words she told me.", "But then, yourself?-your name is Eulalie ?"

"Never was such a rascally invention to excite curiosity as those long masks-so there is no way, Eulalie, of seeing within them."

"No-they were meant to shut out the naughty world from our sight."

"Nonsense! the world is a very delightful world, I can assure you. I myself have only seen what it is within this month, and I would not wrap myself in the cold dark

hood' of Eilersby-and keep my eyes shut to it; no, nothing should tempt me."

"Is the world, indeed, so pleasant? The Lady Alice says it is full of briers." You can

"Of roses, she means.

have no idea what a delightful place it is-such spirit; such amusement. Ah-Eulalie-what a foolish thing it is to keep your lovely face muffled up all your lifetime in a long hood like this."

"Oh! I am not to be muffled up all my lifetime;-in one year more I shall leave off the habit."

"In a year-a year is a prodigiously long time, Eulalie. Won't you just lift it up for a moment now ?"

"No-I have vowed."

Alice was a secondary object in my thoughts. If I remembered any thing at all about her extraordinary behaviour, I concluded that it was the result of a highly wrought imagination, and that the malady to which Eulalie had alluded made her attach some chimerical importance to my name, which I had no doubt had been mentioned to her by Sir Wilfred. All this time I never ventured to intrude upon their privacy. No allusion was made by my host to the fact of their being under his roof, and, as

"Yes."

"But you don't mean to keep them closed upon me. I am not the world, so you may throw back your hood without any infringement of your vow."

"No-but the Lady Alice says we shall all meet again-my year will then have expired-and we shall compare our impressions of the world together. I can't believe there is nothing in it but briers."

"But where are we to meet.-Did the Lady Alice tell you that ?"

"No-but she says we are certain to come together-so what matter is it where-here-or in Italy-or at Ellersby'

Faugh! don't mention the horrid place."

"Do you not like to live there, then?"

"Not alone, Eulalie; it might, perhaps, be very different if".

"Ah! now I must leave you-intrude on us no more-you will only make her miserable?

"Her miserable?" I said; "and you, Eulalie, will seeing me again make you miserable?"

"I will tell you when we meet. Adieu"-and with a light and noiseless step, she tript out of the apart

ment.

When Sir Wilfred returned, I was perfectly convalescent. I knew not whether he suspected any thing of what had occurred in his absence, but there seemed a weight upon his spirits which he struggled in vain to shake off. Our parties went on as usual. But I was now totally changed. I had no wish to mingle in society the recollection of Eulalie was sufficient-especially as that was indissolubly connected with the hopes of meeting her again. Even the Lady

manners, though kind and conciliating, were yet so dignified and even formal, that he effectually checked any inclination I might have felt to commence a conversation upon the subject. It must be remembered I was then only twenty; totally ignorant of the world, unless to the extent of information which I had acquired within the two last months; that there was a degree of romance particularly captivating to the mind of youth, in the mode of my introduction to Eulalie; and it will not be wondered at that though I had never seen her features, I was persuaded she was beautiful-and in short, that I loved her with all the fervency of a first attachment. That she was eminently graceful and exquisitely formed, not even that shrouding drapery could conceal, and her voice so thrillingly sweet, that I found it impossible to believe but that the lips must be lovely too. But what was she? She was evidently not the Lady Alice's servant, as I at first had supposed-in my ignorance of the respect paid to seniority among the members of the same sisterhood. She was young; with the prettiest hand in the world, and a foot that Cinderella might have envied. I relied, though, when I reflected upon it, I did not well know why, on the Lady Alice's declaration, or prophecy, whichever it might be, that we were doomed to meet again, and I resolved to arm myself with patience, and to remain constant to the creature who had first enchained me. How little one knows of his own heart! or of the thousand snares that are laid for it. A nameless girl, whose very features were unknown, had but a poor chance of success against the high and courtly beauties it was afterwards my lot to encounter; and if I

worshipped at another shrine and forgot poor Eulalie, I have no other excuse to offer than that I continued constant to her as long as I possibly could. Summer was now approaching, and as five or six hundred people retired for a few months to the country, it was unanimously agreed that during their absence, London should be declared in a state of absolute emptiness. It was accordingly pronounced a desert, and the other million and a half who crowded its streets were left to the horrors of solitude. Sir Wilfred, who now acted in all respects as my guardian, guide, and friend, called me one day into his study, and after a pause of considerable embarrassment, said to me, "I saw your father, Edward, in my last absence from town, and he thinks it is now time for you to pursue your travels.”

"I am ready whenever he pleases," I said, "I fear my stay here has been too much prolonged."

"I regret, I assure you, that I must lose your society so soon. You are now at last starting into the world. While here you have not been entire ly left to yourself. You will now have no one to advise you.”

I sat erect in my chair, feeling at the moment that I needed no one's advice. Perhaps Sir Wilfred dived into my thoughts, for he said, "You are very easily imposed on, Edward; and it is perhaps right that one so young should not be fenced in against the artifices of the world with doubts and suspicions. These are the old man's heritage. But at the same time don't let your heart or feelings run away with you. Don't fall a victim to the first bright eyes and ruby lips you meet with."

"There is no danger of that," I said; "my heart takes no notice either of lips or eyes."

"Hem-time will show whether you are such a stoic as you fancy. Others, who had quite as much selfconfidence as you have, have been deceived. Did your father ever tell you any of the incidents of his youth?"

"Never, sir."

"No! then I do not know that I have any right to let you into what he may consider his secrets. But this I may tell you, to explain why I assume to myself the right of taking so much interest in your fortunes. Tis

five-and-twenty years ago since your father and I, who had been intimate from our childhood, left the university to make the tour of Europe. Both of us were wild and thoughtless. Your father was the gayest and lightest-hearted creature that ever thought life was but a holiday. Well -we travelled and saw many scenes. Lonsdale was very handsome, and his manners made him the favourite wherever he went. But though he was courted and caressed, his heart never seemed touched by all the smiles and glances that were lavished on him. He had a secret which he foolishly kept from me. He loved my sister. Their love, I believe, was mutual, though Helen was one of those foes to their own happiness who are too proud to show to others, or even to the object of it, an attachment which is consuming their own hearts. It seems she hid her real feelings from Lonsdale so effectually, that he only knew he was liked as the friend and companion of her brother, but never had the vanity, as he would have thought, to believe that he was loved. She was volatile and haughty, and talked of grandeur and ambition in all her plans, whereas there never was a woman more qualified, if she had only given the real tenderness of her nature fair play, to be the most domestic and affectionate of wives. He also was proud -he thought he was despised, or, at all events, that a nobler rival was preferred. All this time they both kept me ignorant of their feelings. Lonsdale at last was driven nearly mad. It is an old story I am telling you, for how often has it happened, how often will it happen again! A want of confidence made two people miserable. There was a false friend, too, who alienated them more and more by reports of attachments in other quarters. Lonsdale married another, though his heart was only Helen's. She, in a year or two, out of pique or vanity, married also. Then, by some means or other which I have no time, or indeed no heart to tell you they found out how miserably they had both been deceived. They met and after that you know the misanthrope your father has become-and I have long lost my sister. You will travel over the same ground we travelled. Let your father's fate be a warning to