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HAGAR LOT; 
 
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 BY PIERCE EOAIST, 
 
 1UTHOR OP "THE FILTER OF THE FLOCK 1 ','" LOVE ME, LEAVE ME NOT 1 ', ' THI WONDER OF KING* 
 
 I O TOOD CHASK", ' IMOGK^" ' TKE SCAKLET FLOWEE", ETC., ETCt 
 
 K K W-Y O IS K 
 
 'DICK & FITZO 
 
 NO. 18 ANN STREET, 
 
ALUMNUS 
 
700 
 
 . 
 
 HAGAR LOT; 
 
 
 
 
 THE FATE OE THE POOR GIRL, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " A strange, wild tale of sin and sorrow 
 Sorrow because of sin hence sorrow comes 
 And throbs ef heated brains, and pangs of hearts, 
 And sorrow worse than physical wounds this tale 
 He tells, not of himself, but ethers." 
 
 OLD PLAT. 
 
 In order that the story we are about to tel 
 may be better understood, it is our purpose to 
 go back ten years from its commencement, 
 and introduce the characters in previous 
 scenes. 
 
 Constance Plantagenet was the daughter 
 and sole child of Pierrepont Spencer Neville 
 Plantagenet, and Lady Henrietta Plantagenet 
 descended from an old family, and allied by 
 both sides of the house to those of the high- 
 est rank in the British peerage. Tall and 
 commanding in person, handsome in face and 
 figure, and graceful in every movement, she 
 commanded universal admiration in the society 
 amid which she mingled. But from her par- 
 ents she inherited a cold and artificial manner. 
 If she had what is known as " heart", the 
 knowledge appeared confined to her own 
 breast, and perhaps that of her foster-sister, 
 Fanny Shelley, who appeared to be her sole 
 confidante. 
 
 With a girl like Constance, and under the 
 tutelage of euch parents, it was not to be ex- 
 pected that mere affection would guide her in 
 the choice of a husband. So, when her father 
 announced to her that he had accepted an 
 offer for her hand from the most noble the 
 JMirquis of Westcheeter, it was natural enough 
 that she should yield to her father's order 
 without demur ; for, was not the lover, though 
 more than twice her age, noble, wealthy, and 
 of commanding influence? Yet it was not 
 without a fierce struggle that she accepted the 
 alliance, for there was a terrible secret be- 
 hind a secret to be hidden, if possible, for 
 ever. 
 
 She was already a wife and a mother. 
 One year before, she had been clandestinely 
 married at the Church of St. Mary'e, 
 
 Yiscount Bertram, the only son of the Earl o 
 Brackieigh the latter a nobleman of penu- 
 rious habits, and supposed to be very poor. 
 The only witnesses were : the curate, Sidney 
 Reyner, who solemnized the marriage ; the 
 clerk, John Smith, and Frances Shefiey, the 
 foster-sister of the bride. Estrangement, how- 
 ever, grew between the couple so much so, 
 that the wife concealed from her husband the 
 fact that she was about to become a mother, 
 and, finally, the birth of her child, a daughter. 
 This child was placed by Fanny Shelley, who 
 was thoroughly devoted to her young mistress, 
 in charge of a nurse. 
 
 When the Marquis of West Chester proposed 
 marriage to Constance, she sought an inter- 
 view with the Viscount. She told him of the 
 offer she had received, -.nd, also, that she knew 
 he was half engaged to a Miss' Grizzle, the 
 daughter of a very wealthy railroad-contractor, 
 and she proposed to annul their marriage in 
 an original though not exactly a legal way. 
 The curate who had selemnized it had joined 
 the Church cf Rome, and was a missionary in 
 foreign parts never, in all probability, to re- 
 turn"; the clerk was dead, and the remaining 
 witness, her maid, was thoroughly devoted to 
 her, and would be sent away. It was then tyut 
 to destroy the certificate of marriage, and the 
 thing was done. An altercation ensued ; but, 
 in the end, the strong will of Constance 
 triumphed. Her wedding-ring was crushed to 
 fragments beneath her heel, the certificate 
 burned; and the two parted, as ihej sup- 
 posed, forever. In a short while, Yiscount 
 Bertram married Miss Grizzle, and Constance 
 became the Marchioness of Westchester. 
 
 There was, however, a witness ur known to 
 both, of their final interview. That was Sat 
 Ferret, the Viscount's groom, who had over- 
 heard the whole interview, and intended it for the 
 purpose of extorting money. As he was foolish 
 enough to engage in a robbery, in the inter- 
 val, he was convicted of the offence, and trans- 
 ported for a number of years. 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 Fanny Shelley took the child, and went to 
 her native home in Beachborough. Her ap- 
 pearance, under the circumstance?, occasioned 
 infinite scandal, and estranged her from her 
 lover, Stephen Yere. A quarrel ensued, and, 
 shortly after, a body, identified as that of 
 Fanny by seme of the clothing OB it, was found 
 in a pond. Stephen was arrested, charged with 
 the murder, and acquitted for want of evi- 
 dence. He soon after emigrated to Canada. 
 The parents of Shelley did not locg survive, 
 and the infant grew up under the i^^inal care 
 of the villagers, and, especially, 4Vof Si^c 
 Atten. 
 
 Five years had passed away when the Mar- 
 chioness of Westchester, who had part of the 
 time been on the Continent, and had heard 
 nothing of the death of Fanny, took it into her 
 head to visit the Abbey at Beachborougb, 
 which had been an estate of her father's, but 
 then in her husband's possession. While there, 
 eorne of the guests discovered an interesting 
 and beautiful child, known generally as the 
 Pool Girl. Some inquiries being made tbout 
 her, the Marchionees discovered, to her horror, 
 that it was her own, and learned of the death 
 of Fancy. In her terror, she determined to 
 have the child disposed of, and hired a hand- 
 some gipsy woman, named Hagar Lot, to steal 
 and carry it away. The gipsy, aided by one 
 of her own race, Liper Leper, who was enam- 
 ored of her, did PO, and placed it in charge of 
 a gipsy couple Daddy "Windy acd Diana, his 
 wife. These used the beauty of the child for 
 money-making, and, by sending her abroad to 
 Bell flowers, and sing, reaped a golden haivest. 
 
 The Viscount Bertram, through the death 
 of his father, became Earl of Brackleigh, and 
 then.it was discovered that Ihe o]d Earl, in- 
 stead of being poor, was only mieerly. The 
 new Earl found himself exceedingly rich. In 
 the course of events, the Esrl and the Mar- 
 cLioness met. Incidents in their meeting, to- 
 gether with the events at IJeecbborougb, en- 
 gendered suspicion in the mind of the Marquis 
 of Westchester, and he commenced, a patient 
 investigation. Similar suspicions took posses- 
 sion of the Countess of Brackleigh, with like 
 results. 
 
 Five years more elapeed, and a 
 took place in the fortune? of the Poor Girl. 
 She went to sing at Ascot Races, and to theee 
 at the same time came the Westchester and 
 Bracfeleigh families ; the carriages of both, by 
 accident, being drawn up side by side. Here, 
 too, came to see the races Susan Atten, with 
 her lover, Harry Vere, and his friends. With 
 the Earl of Brsckleigh came also a \ourg no- 
 bleman, Lord Victor, who had occe before in- 
 terpoeed to shield little Floret for so the Poor 
 Girl was named from ill-treatment, and for 
 whom slift entertained feelings of childish grat- 
 itude. By an old song which the child sacg 
 Suean Att e n recognized her lost darling, and 
 aided by Harry Vere, and his friends, bore her 
 off in triumph, in spite of an attempt made 
 
 by the gipaies to rescue her. At these eame 
 races, the Earl of Brackleigh had an interview 
 with the Marchioness. His old love had re- 
 burned with renewed force, and he threatened, 
 f she did not return to him, to avow their sever- 
 al bigamies, and endure the consequences. The 
 events of the day excited still moie the fearful 
 suspicions of the Marquis and the Countess, 
 and eet them more vigorously to woik to pen- 
 etrate the mystery. 
 
 Hagar Lot, at ttiis juncture, found Ihe Mar- 
 chit nees, and prcmieed. to steal the child 
 again, end tend her from the country. 
 
 Nat Ferret had now returred irom transpor- 
 tation, en a ticket of leave, given to him for 
 good conduct while in the penal colory, and 
 at CBCC proceeded to make n&rket of his 
 krowledge. He etdeavoreo to obttin access 
 to the Earl ef Brtcfeleigh, but was kicked cut 
 by the tervante. Kotb)ig daurted, he drew 
 tip a mysterious card, dieplayirg his knowl- 
 edge it the bigamy, ard irclcted it to the 
 Efcil. This fell into the hands of the Count- 
 ess, who at oice appointed sn interview with 
 the writer. AF both were froceedirg to the 
 piece fixed on, Nat ceme ecrces the Earl, to 
 whom be opened his fcutirtes. The Earl was 
 alarmed, aid after en interview, which the 
 Countess, wlo had followed, managed to over- 
 bear, the peer toek the groom bcrce. The 
 Cotsmess, in the meanwhile, euerectirg the 
 Poor Girl to be ler tuebend s child, antici- 
 pated the gipei< s, at d bad ter conveyed to the 
 Earl's mar-Mon, overccnairg SuEan T B lemon- 
 etrsnces. Both, therefore, had their ttveral 
 eeorete under the eeme roof. 
 
 Peer Suean Atten bad euffered, however, by 
 her recovery of Floret; for her conscience 
 would not allow fcer to burthen Herry vith 
 this charge. Their marriage was therefore 
 postponed, to his great dismay. He jitldcd, 
 bowever, and went to Canada to eee his 
 brother, Stephen. 
 
 What in the meanwhile of the Marquis and 
 the MarchioreeB? The former pvuued Lis 
 investigations laboriously. He opened bis 
 wife's escritoire dur;rg* a, ewccn of hers, and 
 obtained from it a miniature of Bertram, a 
 lock of tie child's hair, and other triflte all 
 licks in the chain; and pottiig r'own to 
 Beachborougb, endeavored 1o ptri/p Dr Bird, 
 the jredical attendant of the Maictioiefe when 
 sbe was Mifs Constance. Fr<m him he 
 cbtaiied nothing certain. The Marc-bioLfte, 
 v t o felt tit e ret cloeirgarcurc^hfr, made ahold 
 effort to cut its metbes. FromHeger Lot, the 
 obtfeired a subue and deadly poiecr, to fcold 
 in caeecf ceed, aid then deierrr>E<d or a bold 
 emke. She repaired to St. MSTJ'B Church, 
 at Hove, and by amueirg the c.'eiJr, naneged 
 to cut 1be page cottaiiiirg the record of the 
 marriage from the book. Someone eeemedto 
 paes her at the tinoe, and enter the vestry. 
 Ste returned home, and locked the abptracted 
 page securely in her eecritcire. She ftlt now 
 that her fate was in her own hands. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " A diamond coronet deck'd her brow, 
 Bloom on her cheek a vermeil glow ; 
 The terrors of her fiery eye 
 Poured forth insufferable day, 
 And shed a wildly lurid ray. 
 A Finite upon her features play'd". 
 But there, too, safe portray'd 
 Tue inventive malice of a soul 
 "When wild demoniac passions roll ; 
 Despair and torment on her broir 
 Had mark'd a melancholy wo& 
 In dark and deepened shade. 
 Under those hypocritic smiles, 
 Deceitful as the serpent's wiles, 
 Her hate and malice were conceal'd." 
 
 THE WANDEKINO JEW, 
 
 Hagar Lot was stationed at the spot where 
 she had parted from the Marchioness when the 
 latter returned to Raby. 
 
 She conducted her in silence to her cham- 
 ber within the antique hall by the same route 
 as that by which she had departed from it. 
 
 The Marchioness briefly, almost curtly, bade 
 hergood-night upon the thieshold of her room- 
 door, and Hagar turned silently away as the 
 latter entered the apartment. 
 
 While shewaa depositing the stolen register 
 of her marriage with Bertram in her escritoir, 
 her chamber-door noiselessly opened, and a 
 dusky figure glided in 
 
 With s wife but soundless step it crossed the 
 apartment, and disappeared silently behind 
 the massive drapery which covered the win- 
 dow. 
 
 There, crouched up in a small compass, it 
 lay concealed. 
 
 Worn, weary, exhausted by excitement and 
 fatigue, the Marchioness retired to rest, and 
 was soon plunged into a heavy but perturbed 
 sleep. 
 
 Close to her "bedside, within reach of her 
 hand, stood a small table, of elight make, but 
 beautifully inlaid with brass and red porphyry. 
 Upon it was her handkerchief, a bottle of am- 
 moniacal salts, and email basket of gold fila- 
 gree work. 
 
 Within that basket lay a bunch of keys. 
 
 The tirst rays of dawa cast a cold blue light 
 within the chamber, and its ghastly beams fell 
 upoa the lithe, slim figure of a young man, who 
 stood motionless by her bedside. 
 
 He removed the keys from the basket noise- 
 lessly, and glided with them behind one of the 
 window-curtains, where he examined, by the 
 rays of the fast coming day, each one separ- 
 ately and attentively. 
 
 He quickly selected one, and reappearing 
 from bebiad the curtain, moved with cat-like 
 tread to the escritoir. 
 
 He applied the key to it, and it proved to 
 be the right- one, for he opened the desk read- 
 ily. 
 
 A folded paper lay before him. He raised 
 it, and examined it. He drew from his breast 
 one resembling it, and folding it rapidly but 
 silently, precisely in the same form, he laid 
 it where the other had been placed, and put- 
 ting the latter carefully in the breast-pocket 
 of bis coat, he locked the escritoir, mutter- 
 ing : 
 
 11 For the Wild White Rose. The bud shall 
 blossom and bloom, and shall yet become the 
 fairest flower of them all !" ! 
 
 He returned swiftly to the small table by 
 the bedside, and restored the keys to the gold- 
 en basket. Then he retreated to the door, 
 opened it, and disappeared, closing it behind 
 him, without making the slightest seund. 
 
 It was mid-day when the Marchioness arose, 
 and her first act was to proceed to her escri- 
 toir, She fdtnd there a paper apparently as 
 she had left it, and proceeded to open it. She- 
 recognized, as she unfolded it, the coarse baud- 
 writing which she had seen in the book, and 
 two or three signatures in female handwriting, 
 but before she could completely open the sheet 
 to gaze once more upon the record of her own 
 legal marriage, she heard the Bound of a foot- 
 step and the rustle of a dress. 
 
 She turned her head, and saw her attendant, 
 Fane. 
 
 She sharply bade her leave the room, and 
 return in two or three minutes. On the 
 young woman obeying her, she hastily folded 
 the paper into as small a compass as she 
 could, and pressing a spring, revealed a nest of 
 secret drawers within the desk, in one of which 
 ehe placed it. She then re-locked the escri- 
 toir, and, returning to her dressing-room, she 
 seated herself aad placed her hands over her 
 eyes. 
 
 "What shall destroy my fame now I 1 " she 
 murmured. " Bertram ?" she ejaculated, re- 
 flectively. A bitter smile curled her lip. 
 " He cannot blight me with his new-found 
 love, for now I can with safety dare the worst 
 he can attempt. Let him say to the world, 
 "She is my wife,' I will answer, " It is false ! I 
 challeEge you to the proof!' Ay I where will 
 he find proof? Shelley, the Curate, his Clerk 
 all, all gone dead dead! The register? 
 aha! aha! I have that. Circumstances? 
 ]S~o, we met in secret. We corresponded, it is 
 true, but he has returned to me all the letters 
 I ever wrote to him ; and if he has not, there 
 ia not one which bears my signature no, not 
 one. It was so arranged. I remember that. 
 The child" 
 
 A wailieg sob burst from her lips, but she 
 pressed her eyelids lightly. She pressed her 
 clenched fist upon her heart, and she stifled 
 her emotion. 
 
 " He never knew of its existence," she 
 groaned ; " asd he cannot no, neither he nor 
 any other living being can prove it to be 
 mine ! No no no !" she exclaimed, in a 
 low, shivering tone. 
 
 She remained silent for a little while, 
 I plunged in the moat intense '^reflection, and 
 j then, rousing herself, she added : 
 
 " Since, then, not even Bertram himself can 
 
 prove me to be his wife, what have I to fear? 
 
 ; nothing ! Besides, do I not hold in my 
 
 I possession the power of life or death of com- 
 
 1 manding the secrecy of my God, let me not 
 
 think of that !" 
 
 She sprang to her feet, and rang a bell 
 I yioleatly. 
 
c 
 
 HAGAR LOT 
 
 i Fane almost immediately responded by ap- 
 pearing. 
 
 j The Marchioness eyed her for a minute with 
 a searching scrutiny, which made the girl be- 
 come at first of the hue of crimson, and then a 
 deathly white. She felt un pleasantly con- 
 scious that the Marchioness had become aware 
 that her services had been purchased by the 
 Earl ofBrackleigh, an-1 that she did not ap- 
 prove of it. She would have been delighted 
 at that moment if ehe could hate- descended 
 into the apartments beneath, as swiftly and 
 as effectively as mysterious spirits do at 
 theatres in demon dramas ; but as she was not 
 gifted with such supernatural powers, she was 
 compelled to remain where she was, and bear 
 the glance which 
 
 ; " Like a sharp spear, went through her utterly, 
 ; Keen, cruel, preceant, stinging." 
 
 " Fane," exclaimed the Marchioness, when 
 she had completed her steadfast perusal of her 
 features, ' I regard you as being in my service 
 only. If I should have further reason to be- 
 lieve that I am mistaken in this impression, I 
 shall dismiss you without hesitation dismiss 
 you." 
 
 She paused. Fane remained silent. She 
 understood the Marchioness's meaning, and 
 was ready to faint. 
 
 Presently, the Marchioness inquired : 
 "Was the Marquis in London when you 
 left?" 
 
 "He was, my Lady," she replied, in a 
 trembling tone. " "His lordship had just ar- 
 rived from abroad." 
 
 "Abroad!'' repeated the Marcnioness, with 
 surprise ; " from what place abroad ?" 
 
 "From Paris, I believe, my Lady," answered 
 Fane. 
 
 Paris ! Her father was at Paria. Had the 
 Marquis been to see him ? If so, upon what 
 subject ? 
 
 She mused. She had a shrewd ana an un- 
 pleasant suspicion of the truth. She did not 
 wish her father to be dragged into her differ- 
 ences with the Marquis. She felt vexed and 
 angry that the latter should attempt to do it. 
 She turned her brilliant eyes upon Fane, and 
 said, with a marked emphasis : 
 
 "Prepare for my return to London to day. 
 or at latest to-morrow morniag ; and mark me, 
 Fane, if my intentions should be made known 
 to any person beyond the precincts of the 
 hall, you will have to suffer the consequences, 
 They may prove calamitous to you," she ad- 
 ded, in a lower tone. 
 
 Fane shuddered involuntarily. There was 
 eomething singularly terrible in the tone of the 
 Marchioness's voice something yet more ter- 
 rible in the sharp flash of her eye as she quit- 
 ed the room. 
 
 Fane had previously observed that she was 
 greatly changed, both in appearance and man- 
 ner. She was unacquainted with the cause, 
 but she was convinced that it must be some- 
 thing of a peculiarly grave character which had 
 produced so marked an alteration in her. 
 . She had at first a notion that the love of the 
 
 Earl of Brackleigh, as soon as she had become 
 acquainted with it, had occasioned the change- 
 but, upon reflection, she dismissed that impres- 
 sion, because she felt sure no woman feels de- 
 moniacal after receiving a declaration of love 
 from a handsome and comparatively young no- 
 bleman, even if that love be naughty in prin- 
 ciple, and not for a moment to be entertained ; 
 and ehe was certain that the Marchioness look- 
 ed at her more with the expression of a Satan- 
 ella than a seraph. 
 
 She was, therefore, at a loss to conceive 
 what could have conversed her fascinating, 
 beautiful, and stately mistress into a frowning, 
 evil-looking Circe. She could only, as she de- 
 sired to retain her situation, decide upon re- 
 fusing for the future to assist the Earl in his 
 designs upon her mistress, and to give up all 
 thoughts of that vulgar-tongued but smartly- 
 dressed groom, who, having whispered to her 
 that he behaved he was a " spar-rer", and her 
 lips " wue" cherries, had kissed her with a kind 
 of high-pressure action before she had any idea 
 that he " drempt" of such a piece of saucy im 
 pertinence. 
 
 Although she had promised the Earl to 
 meet him or his groom at an appointed ren- 
 dezvous, she refrained from going there on the 
 day she made preparations to accompany the 
 Marchioness to London. For two reasons 
 firstly, because the Marchioness had by impli 
 cation forbidden her ; and secondly, she ascer- 
 tained that the window of her mistress's eit- 
 ting-room commanded the spot upon which 
 she had already met the short, natty groom, 
 and where he had fancied himself a sparrow 
 and her lips cherries, and where, probably, the 
 Marchioness had beheld the consequences of 
 that delusion. Now, as she had a very power- 
 ful conceit, that if she went thither again, and 
 fchould happen to meet the groom instead of 
 the Earl, the man instead of the master, she 
 she should find the former laboring under a 
 very severe attack of the same delusion, she 
 considered that it would be a wiser plan not to 
 quit the hall again until she took her place 
 in the rumble of the traveling-carriage beside 
 Lady Henrietta's maid, for whom she enter- 
 tained the bitterest objection, and with whom 
 she knew that she should quarrel the whole 
 way to London. 
 
 The Lady Henrietta, who had had enough 
 of Raby Hall, especially as her skin was resum- 
 ing its paper-like whiteness, and the blue-bot- 
 tle had not so very greatly inconvenienced 
 her as she expected, as, indeed, it might have 
 done if it had been a large pearl quaffed in a 
 draught of true Falernian, announced her readi- 
 ness to depart as soon aa the Marchionees was 
 prepared to leave the hall. But her prepara- 
 tions were of a more extended character than 
 those of her daughter ; it was not until the 
 next day, therefore, that she was ready to 
 move. 
 
 The Marchioness caused it to be made 
 known that they would leave the hall at four 
 o'clock. She arranged and so contrived it, 
 hat the small cavalcade, well horsed and eexv- 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 tanted, quitted it at two o'clock ; and, conse- 
 quently, as she expected-, she did not see, in 
 any direction, any sign of the Earl of Brack- 
 leigh or hia groota. 
 
 They reached London late that night, and 
 the Lady Henrietta slept at the mansion of the 
 Marquis of Westchester. 
 
 Not a little to the surprise of the Marquis, 
 who was at home, the Mirchione-?s seat word 
 to him that herself an<1 Lady Henrietta would 
 receive him at breakfast ba the following 
 morning. 
 
 At first he was disposed to decline the honor, 
 by making some excuse of a previous engage- 
 ment ; but, upon reflection, he resolved to 
 meet the Marchioness, and examine attentively 
 her face, while, as if casually, he mentioned 
 two or three circumstances, which, he felt as- 
 sured, must probe her to the heart, and possi- 
 bly elicit from her some confirmation of the 
 suspicions he entertained. 
 
 The presence of Lidy Henrietta, he believed, 
 would give him an excellent opportunity to 
 carry his dssign into execution ; and, eventu- 
 ally, he sent a message to them, to say that he 
 would join them at ten in the morning. 
 
 As the clock struck ten, he entered the 
 breakfast-room. 
 
 Both ladies rose to receive him. The Mar- 
 chioness glanced at him. She saw that he 
 was pale, and thst his features, though rigid, 
 betrayed that there was some terrible ex- 
 citement bubblisg, seething, boiling, be- 
 neath that apparently cold and impassible 
 exterior. 
 
 Followed, at a respectful distance, by two 
 powdered lacqueys, he advanced, with slow 
 and stately step, saluted lady Henrietta and 
 the Marchioness with stiff politeness, and 
 look the chair which had been placed for 
 him opposite the Marchioness, who presided 
 at the table. 
 
 When the ladies had resumed their seats, 
 the Lady Henrietta raised her eye-glass, and 
 examined the features of the Marquis atten- 
 tively, and did so with a species of well-bred 
 ease and self-possession, which prevented se 
 direct a stare being offensive in its character. 
 
 " Why, Westchester," she exclaimed, 
 " your trip to Paris has not improved your 
 looks." 
 
 He started, and for a moment, looked in- 
 quiringly "at her ; and then said, frigidly : 
 
 " I regret that it should not have had the 
 result your ladyship appears to have antici- 
 pated." 
 
 " It has not, indeed," she replied, readily. 
 *' You should have accompanied us to Raby 
 Hall. It was so unkind of you to refuse us ; 
 indeed your lordship will pardon me, I thought 
 it almost barbarous that you did not, even for 
 a day or so, delight and honor us with your 
 your company." - t 
 
 He started again, and looked at her won- 
 deringly. 
 
 " Positively cruel," she "continued, remov- 
 ing her eyes from the face of the Marquis, and 
 fastening them upon a cold partridge, to 
 
 which she directed the attention of one of the 
 attendants, who immediately assisted her to 
 half of it ; " decidedly cruel. I am sure 
 Lady Westchester was heartbroken about 
 your marked absence were you not, my dear 
 Constance." 
 
 The Marquis appeared, for an instant, 
 astounded. He glanced at the Marchioness, 
 and saw her beautiful lips curling with an ex- 
 pression of ineffable scorn. 
 
 " He recovered his self-possession, and re- 
 sumed his frigid mien. 
 
 " Your ladyship's memory does not serve you 
 faithfully, I fear," he eaid, in measured tones. 
 " You will remember, Lady Henrietta, that I 
 was n->t consulted at all in the matter. Your 
 ladyship was indisposed, you required change 
 and quiet, you naturally sought the compan- 
 ionship of your daughter, for it was scarcely 
 to be expected that you would bury yourself 
 in the solitude of the country quite alone. 
 You expressed a wish, in a note addressed by 
 your ladyship to me, that that solitude should 
 not be disturbed, and I respected it." 
 
 There was a silence for a moment, and then 
 he added : 
 
 "Your ladyship having mentioned my ab 
 sence on the Continent, overlooks the fact that 
 it would have been scarcely possible for me to 
 have viiited Raby Hall and Paris at the same 
 time." 
 
 Without appearing to heed his sarcastic 
 tone, she rejoiced : 
 
 " Ah, yes, Paris ; you saw Plantagenet, of 
 course T 1 
 
 The Marchioness listened for the answer 
 with intense eagerness, although she eeemed 
 to be lost in thought while caressing a favor- 
 ite Italian greyhound. 
 
 " h l was not so fortunate," responded the 
 Marquis, in a somewhat marked tone. 
 
 He wished the Marchioness to understand 
 tint he had Bought him with a special pur- 
 pose. 
 
 She knew instinctively that he had. 
 " Bless me !" exclaimed Lady Henrietta, in 
 a tone of surprise ; " how odd ! Plantagenet 
 is in Paris?" 
 
 " Was!" answered his lordship, laconically. 
 ' Not there ! Heavens! Where can he be ?" 
 she cried, with unaffected astonishment. 
 
 "At Raby Hall, I presume, by this time, 
 Lady Henrietta," returned the Marqiais, coolly. 
 'Raby Hall!" repeated Lady Henrietta, 
 starting. " Gracious ! What can be the 
 meaning of such erratic conduct? He left 
 London for Paris, I imagine, only a few days 
 before your lordship. How ceuld you possi- 
 bly have missed him, and what can he want at 
 Raby Hall?" 
 
 A sardonic smile, for an instant only, moved 
 the lips of the Marquis. 
 
 "I apprehend," he answered, "that, lees 
 cruel than myself, he desired to see your lady- 
 ship while in retirement at Raby;" and then, 
 added, quickly : " I had a peculiar wish to 
 have an interview with Mr. Plantagenet on a 
 matter of the gravest moment at least, to 
 
HAGAtt LOT ; 
 
 me ; but, on ftiihring at Paris, I learned that 
 he was upon a short visit to Louis Philippe, at 
 JTeuilly. I followed him thither, but found 
 that he had quitted it two days before my ar; 
 rival, for Lyons. I followed him to Lyons - 
 he had posted to Marseilles. I posted to Mar- 
 seilles ; he had sailed to Civita Vecchia. I 
 Bailed to Civita Vecchia, and he came out of 
 the port on his return, as I entered it. I fol- 
 lowed him back as fast as I could travel, but 
 could not overtake him. I pursued him to 
 London, and yesterday, at midday, I proceed- 
 ed to Plantagenet House, hoping to catch him ; 
 but he had started half an hour previously for 
 Raby Hall. I have dispatched a courier after 
 him, to inform him that I am anxious that he 
 should make nn appointment, to grant me an 
 interview, either at Raby, or here in London." 
 
 " What, in the name of all that is flighty 
 and bewildering, could have induced Planta- 
 genet to ecour France in such an extraordi- 
 nary manner ?" ejaculated Lady Henrietta, in 
 a bewildered tone. 
 
 " Some individual haa some Sevres plates, 
 and cups and saucers, a few nique gems, 
 and other articles of that description, to dis- 
 .pose of," returned the Marquis, in an in- 
 different tone. " The man had offered them 
 to Louis Phillippe, but the French King 
 thought the price too high, and the person 
 proceeded to Rome, to submit them to an 
 English connoisseur, who is there purchasing 
 some of the wonders always on sale to the 
 wealthy. Plantagenet secured hia prize at 
 Civita Vecchia, and returned instanter with it. 
 I presume he has hastened to Raby Hall, to 
 exhibit to your ladyship the treasures he has 
 thus made his own." 
 
 " Doubtless," returned Lady Henrietta, with 
 a slight yawn. "But he will have to display 
 them to me in London. I could ' not journey 
 again to that horrid Raby to eee a few plates, 
 and that sort of thing, however choice and 
 unique they might be." 
 
 "I might almost be worth the trouble of 
 asking a question to ascertain from you, 
 Westchester, an explanation of the cause of 
 your most vigorous but unsuccessful chase of 
 papa ?" observed the Marchioness, with com- 
 plete self-pofisession, and with a tone of irony 
 which stung the Marquis sharply. "How 
 amusing it must have proved, if one could 
 have seen it as one sees such flight and pursuit 
 at theatres ! More exciting than the scenes 
 which entertained us at Raby Hall, Lady Hen- 
 rietta ? , You really must have had some un- 
 usually serious subject, Westchester, to dis- 
 cuss with papa, to have chased him BO severe- 
 ly and persistently ?" 
 
 He gazed at her with set teeth and knitted 
 brows. Her eyes were fastened upon his, but 
 her beautiful face was free from all expression, 
 Bare a cold, satirical, and even contemptuous 
 set of her mouth, which made him inwardly 
 chafe to observe. 
 
 i "I had, Lady Westchester, a very serioua 
 subject !" he exclaimed, emphatically. 
 j^ " I should like to hear it, Westchester ?" she 
 
 rejoined, he* smile of cold corn betraying 
 itself yet more visibly than before. "It is a 
 woman's privilege to be curious, you brow, 
 Westchester," she added, in a tone which 
 staggered him, it was so light and playful, nd 
 harmonized BO ill with the expmsion upon 
 her lip. 
 
 " You shall, Lady Westchester," he replied. 
 
 " Now ?" she inquired, pattiag the heed of 
 her dog gently, and bending her eyes down 
 upon it. 
 
 " Not now," returned the Marquis, a little 
 louder in his tone, and with more empbaeis- 
 " Not now, but certairly before jour lady, 
 ship goes out, either to ride or drive." 
 
 " Thank you, Westchester," she responded, 
 and addressed an unimportant remark to Lady 
 Henrietta, yet one which she knew would eet 
 her talking, and would give her time to think, 
 or at least to nerve herself for the coming in- 
 terview with the Marquis. 
 
 The vapid talk of Lady Henrietta was cut 
 short, however, by the M*rquie, who failed to 
 hear a single word of her tiresome remaiks. 
 He rose up from a fit of deep and moody 
 abstraction, and, bowing, quitted the chamber. 
 
 The Marchioness, almost immediately after- 
 ward, roee and conducted Lady Hemietta to 
 her boudoir, and, on reaching it, ehe gave 
 her a book, and bade her amuee herself *ith 
 it during her absence. Before Lady Henrietta 
 could utter a remark, the Marchionees left her 
 marveling. 
 
 Left her wondering what to do with herself, 
 now that her husband had started off to the 
 place she had just quitted, and Plantagenet 
 House was as dull and gloomy as Raby Hall 
 had been. 
 
 The Marchioness, with slow and dignified 
 step, took her way to the library of the Mar- 
 quis, and passed through it to his study ad- 
 joining. 
 
 He was within it, seated at a library- table, 
 arranging some papers, which appeared to be 
 covered with a quantity of memoranda. 
 
 He started on perceiving her, and hastily 
 pushed his papers up in a heap. 
 
 He rose up fnd gazed upon her with a 
 troubled and inquiring eye troubled because 
 he could not understand her marvelous self- 
 command, and her wondrous assumption of 
 elevation of deportment, which placed him in 
 her presence in spite of his corsciouenese, rot 
 mean in its extent, of his own high rank in a 
 secondary position. 
 
 Steadfastly as he gszed upon her, he could 
 not detect in her face any trace of coEEcious 
 guilt. He knew intuitively that she was aware 
 of his suspicions, that she had read them in his 
 looks, his altered manner, and in his inuen- 
 dos. He knew, too, instinctively that ehe now 
 stood before him to challenge, to dare all e 
 could say to her ; and yet, but for that cold, 
 curling lip of scorn which scathed him, her 
 countenance was all equanimity, clearer, plea- 
 santer, happier no, that is not the word 
 more unclouded, apparently freer from care, 
 than he had seen it for a long time past 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 What had happened, he could not divine 
 nor conceive. Something to destroy utterly 
 his nearly-completed chain of evidence, he did 
 not doubt. The very thought mide him feel 
 sick at heart ; not the less so because he guesa- 
 ed that he would be deprived of the power, j 
 probably, of declaring to her what he felt to 
 be the fact. 
 
 She perceived instantly that he wag perusing 
 her features, with the hope of reading some- 
 thing there to give him an opportunity of 
 pouring forth a flood of assertions, gathered 
 from sources with which she waa yet unac- 
 quainted, and she could not repress the con- 
 temptuous curl of the lip, which defied bim 
 to read on that fair and beauteous tablet one 
 word more than she chose should appear 
 upon it. 
 
 She broke the Ice herself by saying : 
 
 " My curiosity, you perceive, Westcheeter, 
 haa wings ; it has brought me hither with a 
 somewhat unusual rapidity." 
 
 "Yery unusual, Madam," he responded, 
 sternly. 
 
 "Very unnsual," she repeated, unheeding 
 his cold tone. " But, then, one must have 
 Borne change now and then, some little excif.e- 
 ment to counterbalance the dullness we ccca 
 sionally encounter, and so I have sougbt your 
 lordship's cold, grave, grand, sublime presence, 
 in the hope that I shall meet with something 
 to amu&e, if not interest me." 
 
 "It will intereet you, no doubt, Midaa," he 
 replied, grating his teeth together, "so deep- 
 ly, indeed, that you will probably never " 
 
 " Siay, Westchester, [one moment,'' she in- 
 terrupted, raising her hand. " Are we likely 
 to be interrupted in a matter which is to pos- 
 sess such awful interest for me ?" she inquired. 
 "It would be a pity if that interest should 
 be divided by the intrusion of a blundering 
 servant." 
 
 He rang a bell. Almost immediately his 
 secretary appeared. 
 
 "Mr. St. Maur," he said, "will you be good 
 enough to leave the library for a time, and 
 see that no one approaches it until further or- 
 ders?' 
 
 Mr. St. Maur bowed, and retired. 
 
 " We are quite alone, Madam," continued 
 the Mirquis, "and we shall not be inter 
 rupted." 
 
 " That is well I" she exclaimed. 
 
 Then facing him, she fastened her eyes firm- 
 ly upon his. 
 
 So brilliant, so piercing, so steadfast, was 
 their expression that, for a tnoment, he turned 
 his own away. But only for a moment, to 
 find settled upon her lip that curl of con- 
 temptuous scorn which etung him almost to 
 madness. 
 
 * You have been desirous of obtaining an in- 
 terview with Mr. Plantagenet, my father, my 
 Lord, upon a subiect of the gravest moment," 
 she exclaimed, in a clear, firm, and resolute 
 voice. " You traveled post some hundreds of 
 miles to effect that object, and failed. Such 
 remarkable anxiety to have an interview with 
 
 him must have sprung from no common cause, 
 and admits an explanation." 
 
 "It does, Madam!" he exclaimed, sharply, 
 even fiercely. 
 
 "I am here, Lord Weatchester, to heir it," 
 she said, in measured, dignified, emphatic, and 
 defiant tones. 
 
 "You ehall, Madam," he replied, almost 
 gasping for breath. " Be seated," he added, 
 motioning to a chair. 
 
 " No ! ' she returned, coldly ; " I prefer to 
 remain in my present position. Proceed, Lord 
 Westchester, with your explanation." 
 
 He turned his face from her for a moment to 
 remove with his handkerchief a cold, clammy, 
 death-like meisture from his brow, and then he 
 turned to her to find her as calm and eelf-pos- 
 sessed as before, but with the eame bitter, 
 taunting, scornful expression upon her lip. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " mar?, vain man ! poor fool of pride and pjvi;, 
 Puffed up with every breath from Fortuned waver- 
 ing vane ! 
 
 "Why that proud smile? Sad, oh, how sad shall be 
 
 Tay acted triumphs, wten th' illusion clears ! 
 Thine ejes shall weep, il still the light they see." 
 
 TAS30. 
 
 In the interview he sought with his wife, 
 the Marquis of Westchester had reaolved 
 to be as cold, as frigid, distant, and haughty 
 in his manner as it was possible to be ; to 
 speak in a freezing tone, and with averted 
 eyes ; to bring home to the Marchioness the 
 damning crime of which he believed her to be 
 guilty ; to crufch her to the earth by m2\il'irg 
 and humiliating reproaches, and then to expel 
 her witk ignominy across his threshold for 
 ever. 
 
 Such were the feelings he called up when 
 she entered the library, such the demeanor he 
 put on when she first addressed him. As he 
 cast his eyes upon her beautiful face and 
 graceful form, he felt himself prepared to meet 
 with icy impassibility every attempt she 
 might make at reconciliation, for that Le be- 
 liered to be her purpose ; prepared to resist 
 her blandishments, even though they advsnced 
 beyond a point which, as yet, thev were far 
 from reaching ; prepared to frigidly and in- 
 exorably repel every look, gesture, movement, 
 designed to divert him from his purpose pre- 
 pared for everything, in short, but her uncon- 
 cealed, ineffable scorn. 
 
 He was not prepared for that. 
 
 It disconcerted him, it cut the ground from 
 under his feet ; he did not know where to be- 
 gin, he did not know how to begin, and he re- 
 mained for a minute after she had desired him 
 to commence his explanation in embarrassed 
 silence. 
 
 Believing that she saw her opportunity now, 
 she seized it: 
 
 "My Lord," she exclaimed, in a calm, un- 
 impaa-ioned voice, " I have seen of late an al- 
 teration in your manner to cie, which has ra- 
 ther displeased me." 
 
 He turned hia eyes sharply upon her wilb 
 amazement in them. 
 
10 
 
 LOT ; 
 
 " You appear to me," she continued, in the 
 same tone, " to have something upou your 
 mind which oppresses it a burden from which 
 you desire to release yourself, and to cast it 
 upon some person who may not be thankful 
 to you for the donation. If I have not volun- 
 teered to receive it, it is because I detest se- 
 crets, and have no wieh to share any not even 
 your3, Lord \Yestcnester " 
 
 " Lady Weatchester!" lie exclaimed, in an 
 angry tone. 
 
 "Do not interrupt me, "VVestchester, that is 
 not the act of a gentleman, and I am right, I 
 believe, in the opsion which I entertain that 
 you desire to be esteemed as one," she rejoin- 
 ed, with a haughty gesture. " I say that I 
 have observed an alteration in your manner 
 toward me, my Lord, for which I am unable to 
 account." 
 
 " I will enlighten you, Madam," he inter- 
 poaed. 
 
 " Again,. Sir," she rejoined, with slightly 
 contracted brows. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, and, with a 
 gloomy look, remained eilent. 
 
 " I repeat, my Lord," she continued, resum- 
 ing her difinified, yet unconstrained tone, 
 " that I cannot account for the change I have 
 perceived in your manner ; and, further, it is 
 not my intention to trouble myself to specu- 
 late upon the matter, but to leave to you the 
 satisfaction of elucidating the mystery. What 
 ever it may be, I have what I presume to be a 
 justifiable suspicion that I am in some way 
 closely or remotely, connected with the altera 
 tion in your demeanor, and your desire to 
 speak with my father, Mr. Plantagenet. I, 
 therefore, confess to harboring a curiosity to 
 know what it may be, and I am, as I have al- 
 ready told you, here to seek and to listen to 
 your explanation." 
 
 " And I, Madam, am fully prepared to give 
 it to you,'. 1 he responded quickly, as she, for a 
 moment, paused. " And, Madam " 
 
 She had no intention of permitting him to 
 speak at any length, she therefore waved her 
 hand to arrest his speech, and then she sud- 
 denly assumed an air of imperious, haughty 
 sternness, a determined firmness of look which 
 had much that was menacing in it and not 
 idle menace either. The expression of her 
 eye, as it rested, glittering like a diamond, 
 upon his, startled him. 
 
 " You will remember, my Lord, ere you com- 
 mence, and while you are speakiog, who I am 
 who I was before I consented to accept 
 your name. If you are proud and tenacious 
 of the name which I now bear, I set an equal 
 value upon the name I inherited, and which I 
 bore when I became Lady Westchester." 
 
 A strangely bitter smile passed over his sick- 
 ly features as she uttered the last words ; but 
 though iawardly it disturbed her, outwardly 
 she betrayed no sign that ehe had observed it. 
 She continued : 
 
 " I, therefore, suggest to your lordship, that 
 any vague observations any silly surmises, 
 the weak adoption of idle reports, which may 
 
 have the effect of indirectly castirg & elur 
 upon the name which I honor, and which I 
 declare to be irreproachable will be at once 
 checked by me, and responded to ki a manner 
 which, however offensive it may prove to your 
 lordahip, I consider it to be my indefeasible 
 right to have recourse to. Now, my Lord, 
 proceed, for I find these preliminary observa- 
 tions tedious." 
 
 Stung by her haughty scorn, goaded by hia 
 maddening suspicions and surmises, he forgot 
 his intention of acting and speaking as a 
 scarcely-animated stone statue, but, trembling 
 with excitement, he addressed her angrily and 
 nervously, and his pale face became flushed. 
 
 She perceived that he had lost his self-com- 
 mand, and she resolved, quietly, that he should 
 not recover-it if she could prevent it. 
 
 " Lady Westchester," he exclaimed, trying 
 to moisten his parched lips, and speaking with 
 difficulty ; " in observing a change in my ap- 
 pearance and in my conduct to you, your 
 perceptions have not been at fault. Permit 
 me to ask you if it has occurred to you to in- 
 quire of yourself whether, as there has been an 
 alteration in my behavier to you, you yourself 
 may not have occasioned it ?" 
 
 " It has occurred," she replied quietly. 
 
 " And what response did it meet with ?" he 
 inquired, quickly. 
 
 u My contemptuous ecorn," she replied, 
 glancing at him with cold disdain. 
 
 lie writhed. 
 
 ' You brave it well," he said, between hia 
 teeth. " It will be my best course to be per- 
 fectly plain with you." 
 
 " It will," she returned, with a peculiarly 
 significant tone. 
 
 He drew himself up, and, after two futile at- 
 temps, he said, in a voice which intense cs- 
 citement rendered almost indistinct.: 
 
 " YOH are acquainted with the Earl cf 
 Brackleigh, Madam ?" 
 
 " So I am with some other noblemen whom 
 you might name, my Lord," she returned, with 
 a slight laugh. 
 
 "I say, Madam, that you are acquainted 
 with the Earl of Brackleigh, and were before 
 your marriage with me !" 
 
 She laughed again a musical, ringing 
 laugh, but yet so icy in its tone it made him 
 shiver. 
 
 " Is that a crime?" she asked with apparent 
 playfulness, but, in reality, with biting sar- 
 casm. 
 
 " In you, Madam, yes 1" he exclaimed. 
 
 " Indeed !" she replied, slowly, and elevat- 
 ing her arched eyebrows, as if she were 
 amazed. " "Why a crime in me, my Lord ?" 
 
 " Because you meet him DOW, and in ee- 
 cret !" he responded, gutturally. 
 
 She looked at him steadfastly. 
 
 " Do you know this ?" she asked, emphatic- 
 ally 
 
 " I have the best authority for saving that 
 you do," he returned, vehemently, yet evaa- 
 Lvely. 
 
 " Produce it," she rejoined, firmly. 
 
' OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 11 
 
 " I can," he said ; " but at present" 
 
 She interrupted him by a burst of scornful 
 laughter. She knew he could have neither 
 authority for, nor proof of, what had actually 
 never occurred, save once, and that was a 
 merely accidental rencontre which she did not 
 seek, "would have avoided, and which lasted 
 but a few minutes. 
 
 " You are jealous, Westchester really, posi- 
 tively, ridiculously jealous!" she exclaimed, 
 still laughing with the same scornful tone. 
 " For shame ! a man of your years ought, at 
 least, to have reached the point of common 
 sense and of discretion I" . 
 
 He stamped his foot angrily. 
 
 " I will not," he cried, vehemently, " have 
 the name, fame, and honor of my house sullied 
 by any person, breathing. You, Madam, are 
 my wife " 
 
 ' Stay !" she cried, in a voice as loud, but 
 eleirer and more commanding than his own ; 
 " I am the MARCHIOXESS OF WEST-CHESTER ! Re- 
 flect, my Lord, and be more careful and more 
 correct in your selection of terms." 
 
 He staggered back, and a gh-astly paleness 
 spread itself over his face. He gasped for 
 breath. 
 
 She gazed upon him lofsily and disdainful- 
 ly. 
 
 " My Lord," she said, in tones it would be 
 impossible to describe, save that they were of 
 a nature to make him cower ; " before you 
 cast your eyes upon me, you were, and had 
 been, an unmarried man. You selected me 
 from the throng of women upon whom, year 
 after year, you had thrown calculating glances 
 as you would, par excmple, a horee from a 
 troop, or a deer from a herd for the beauty 
 of my countenance, the symmetry of my form, 
 the dignity of my motions, and fsr, withal 
 my breed. Disgusting as the description may 
 sound in your ears, humiliating as it rings in 
 mine, it is a just one ; you chose me as you 
 would an animal to place at the head of your 
 stud. I was a creature who was likely to wear 
 becomingly the coronet which symbolizes the 
 elevation, of your house, and to carry graceful- 
 ly the name whose greatest merit, perhaps like 
 that cf Adam's, is that it has been borne for a 
 lengthened period. I never disguised from 
 myself the motives which governed you in se- 
 lecting me for your Marchioness ; and, though 
 I coaie of a race older, nobler, and one which 
 is even wealthier than your own, I consented 
 to the sacrifice demanded of me mark me, 
 my Lord, I make no contradiction of terms ! 
 the sacrifice demanded of me, because I de- 
 sired to have the coronet. The puerhase and 
 sale were completed. I have worn, and I still 
 wear, the coronet ; you have paraded before 
 the world your ideal of a Marchioness. In 
 this our bargain has been faithfully fulfilled. 
 But, my Lord, do not permit yourself to fa'l 
 into an error. Pray, during our further dis- 
 course, suffer to remain unspoken those home- 
 ly phrases, ' husband and wife' titles which, 
 as you must be surely conscious, do not prop- 
 erly belong either to you or to me 1" 
 
 There are some matters to which women of 
 delicate imaginings and fine susceptibilities 
 will unhesitatingly refer, to which men who do 
 not boast of refined minds could not allude 
 without diffidence, if not a blush. This may, 
 perhaps, be a solution of the distinction be- 
 tween true and false modesty. A woman 
 knows so readily what should be spoken, and 
 what left unsaid. It is, at least, certain, that 
 women are far less guilty of false delicacy than 
 men. 
 
 At the same time, men only can judge what 
 could have been the feelings of th3 Marquis of 
 Westchester on hearing thooe remarkabie sen- 
 timents fall from the lips of his Marchioness. 
 There was a bitter, stinging taunt implied, 
 which not only lowered him greatly in his own 
 estimation, but did so in epite of a keen sense 
 that he did not wholly deserve the reproach. 
 It was true that he might have acted different- 
 ly, but pride and delicacy of feeling had with- 
 held him from pursuing another course. He 
 had hoped that time and his kindness would 
 have wrought a favorable issue ; it had 
 brought him nothing but a cold, disdainful, 
 insulting taunt ; aad, from the heart which 
 was to have been adamant to even the silvery 
 tone of her voice, it wrung a groan. 
 
 He paced the room for a few minutes, con- 
 vulsed with emotion, and without attempting 
 to disguise the intensity of the suffering he ex- 
 perienced. 
 
 At length, maddened by the thoughts which 
 whirled successively through his brain, scorch- 
 ing and blistering it with the images they 
 conveyed, he turned round, and advanced up- 
 on her with glaring eyes, and foaming at the 
 mouth like a tiger. 
 
 " Woman !" he said, as the white froth bub- 
 bled on his lips ; " when I first eaw you, I be- 
 lieved that your that your past history " 
 
 She turned upon him like lightning, and, 
 with her finger pointed menacingly at him, 
 she exclaimed, in a clear, Jfirm, determined 
 voice : 
 
 "Hold! Beware how you utter ore word 
 derogatory to my fame or name, as it bloomed 
 ere I knew you. Remember, my Lord, our 
 compact when you besought me to bestow my 
 hand upon you. You may have forgotten it ; 
 let me remind you of it. I submitted to yosi 
 a condition, that as it was not my intention to 
 extort from you any arriere pcnsee, so I should 
 expect that you wouid not attempt to exact 
 even one from me. You accepted that con- 
 dition. I have kept ray part of the compact ; 
 yon must keep yours. With what faults or 
 follies I may have been guilty of before my 
 marriage to you, you have now nothing what- 
 ever to do ; it is too late, my Lord. You 
 took me for better or for worse, and you must 
 adhere to your bargain !" 
 
 " But woman " he screeched. 
 
 " Marchioness of Weetchetter !" she correct- 
 ed, in a loud, stern voice. "My Lord, you be- 
 stowed upon me that title, asd you shall ad- 
 dress me by it If you fail to do so, I will 
 quit your presence, and you shall humble 
 
HAGAR LOT 
 
 yotirwlf to me ere I will condescend to see you 
 agam. Let me add, my Lord," she continued, 
 with Blow but intensely-earnest emphasis, 
 " that the name I now bear is as dear and as 
 sacred to me as to you. Its irreproachable 
 fame, its uneullied honor, its spotless integrity, 
 and its elevated rank in the peerage of thia 
 kingdom have been as carefully studied, as 
 anxiously preserved, and as constsntly upheld 
 and sustained by me as by yourself. From the 
 moment I received the right" a cold thrill 
 ran through her nerves as she uttered the 
 words, though she did not betray the emotion 
 "to bear the name, I have never suffered the 
 breath of * defamer to fall blightingly upon it. 
 My conduct as the Marchioness of Westchester 
 has been unimpeachable. I defy contradiction 
 I challenge you to bring before me the high- 
 est as well as the meanest of those in whose 
 circles we have mixed, to point out one per- 
 ceptible spot in my conduct which is justly 
 entitled to censure or reproach. You are 
 pleased to be jealous cf what of whom? 
 Jealousy is always unjust, my Lord! Who 
 should know that fact so well as a woman ? 
 Search for my character in the world in which 
 we have both mixed ; you will find, my Lord, 
 unsullied, untarnished, irreproachable, as it al- 
 ways has been as it will be my care to main- 
 tain it. But do not insult me by paltry asser- 
 tions ; by statements and by evidence obtained 
 from disreputable persons, prowling in holes 
 and corners, ready to sell lies to every credu- 
 lous fool who eeeks them " 
 
 " But, Madam!" cried the Marquis, half be- 
 wildered by her arguments, " -when irrefragable 
 evidence " 
 
 " Hear me out," she interrupted. " Do not 
 degrade me by miserable insinuations and un- 
 worthy suppositions suspicions infinitely 
 more derogatory to those who give utterance 
 to them than those who are compelled to listen 
 to them. Do not do this ; for I say to you, 
 my Lord Marquis, for your reflection, that if 
 all your discoveries, proofs, witnesses, are 
 heaped up into one great mound, and that it 
 enabled you to bring home to me crimes of 
 the blackest dye that it proved me to be the 
 very vilest of my sex it would result, per- 
 haps, in my downfall, but alio in your sure 
 disgrace, the blackening of your name, the 
 emurching of that reputation which you have 
 BO long maintained unsullied and unstained." 
 
 11 What !" cried the Marquis, with sparkling 
 eyes, " would you have me sit down tamely, 
 and endure " 
 
 " An untainted name, certainly," she inter- 
 posed. "Understand me, my Lord : I do not 
 know, nor do I care, what may be the nature 
 of the aspersions of my fame to which, as yet, 
 you have only alluded. I scorn them I re- 
 gard them with a contempt so supreme, that I 
 will not consent to hear them. I regret that 
 you should have been weak enough to listen 
 even to that which might most have resembled 
 truth. Ifc is well, my Lord, that we should 
 cleanly understand each other, and now. You 
 ought not to I do not- disguise from your- 
 
 self the relation in which we stand to each 
 other. One coronet crowns the head of both. 
 Mutually we have to support its oignity id 
 its Lonor. Let us do it. The world has be- 
 lieved, still believes, that we do. Are you 
 anxious to undeceive it, and to raise jour 
 standard with a black bar across your coat of 
 arms. Be advised, my Lord ; the past cannot 
 be recalled nor redeemed. Bewaie how you 
 proceed to my father to prefer any complaint 
 which shall even impinge upon noy purity ; he 
 will strike you with the back of his hand across 
 the cheek, brand you liar and coward, and, old 
 as he is, endeavor with his sword to stamp you 
 as one as I would, my Lord, were I in his 
 place !" 
 
 " Death !" cried the Marquis, furiously. 
 
 She waved her hand to repress the observa- 
 tions he was about to make, and continued : 
 
 " As I would, my Lord, were I in his place, 
 even though you brought the proofs of your 
 dishonor in your bands. And wherefore ? Be- 
 cause your disclosures, while they would not 
 repair the wrong done, would bring down 
 shame and disgrace upon the innocent, even 
 more terribly than upon the guilty, I corn- 
 ice' nd this to your attention. I do not, in what 
 I have eaid, intend, even by implication, to 
 place myself in a false position in your ejes. 
 I repeat that nsy honor is teyord the reach 01 
 defamere, and I regard with unutterable sec rn 
 any and every attempt which may be ncade by 
 fools or knaves to sully it, even though you, 
 icy Lord, head the noble band. Ore word more, 
 and I have done. Although I refuse in justice 
 to myself, to listen to your ignoble enceavors 
 to destroy me, and to prove yourself to be 
 that which it is simply absurd to suppose that 
 you could be by me 5i>jured, I will revert to 
 the name of one individual, wh<m you have 
 been pleased to connect with my own the 
 Earl of Brsckleigh. It matters rot what I 
 know of that individual, or when that kt owl- 
 edge was acquired, let it suffice that it wee pre- 
 vious to my marriage with you, and that then, 
 and now, and forever, I entertain feelings of 
 contempt for him which cannot be surpassed, 
 nor can ever be weakfced." 
 
 "But," cried the Marquis, eagerly, "it is 
 precisely before our marriage " 
 
 " With which yon have nothing to do," in- 
 terposed the Marchioness, sternly. " Let me 
 not have to repeat that I wish te see the man 
 no more. I shall mfcke it my endeavor to pre- 
 vent the chance arising of ever nseeting him 
 more. And now, nay Lord, I have brought our 
 interview to a close. All that I could have 
 expected from it has taken place. Whatever 
 may have been your anticipations, yeu must 
 be content with the result, and take it as it is. 
 We now, and at this moment, part forever, or 
 resume our relations as they have been, with- 
 out, however, one allusion being made at any 
 time to what has just passed between us. Ii 
 it is your will that we shall part forever, I 
 shall know it by receiving from you no com- 
 munication between my departure from this 
 room and an hour hence. If, on the contrary. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 13 
 
 you are content to let the world maintain its 
 inflated sense of youc untarnished dignity, you 
 will send to me, ere the expiration of aa hour, 
 a note, which will contain only the words: 'I 
 assent ' I shall follow the receipt of that note 
 by ordering preparations to be seeretly made 
 you will not, my Lord, objact, I know, (o 
 that part of the arrangement; to proceed 
 abroad, say Rome, where we can make a stay 
 for at least one, perhaps two years. Tae term 
 will depend upon your Lordship, and a " 
 
 She hesitated ; a flash of color went across 
 her face, disappeared instantly, aad left her 
 deathly pale. 
 
 " What ?" he inquired curiously, as ehe 
 paused. 
 
 Her voice faltered. 
 
 " The duration of one of our lives," ehe added. 
 " In such case, the survivor would natu 'ally 
 return to England. Lord Westchester, I leave 
 the decision in your hands. Do not complain 
 if, in making your election, you should err, and 
 your mistake should prove fatal. You, and 
 you alone, will be to blame." 
 
 She bowed stiffly and grandly to him, and 
 glided from the room. 
 
 He made a movement to stay her, but she 
 was gone. 
 
 Bewildered, excited, astounded, overwhelm- 
 ed by the mastery over him, which from the 
 first she had seized, and to the last maintained, 
 he gave way to an ebullition of frantic emo- 
 tion, and flung himself upon the ground, with 
 all the wildness and frenzy of a maniac. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "His business was to pump and wheedle, 
 And men with their own keys unriddle , 
 To make men to thetnsslves give answers, 
 For which they pay the aecromancers 
 To fetch and carry intellingence 
 Of whom, and what, and wh andwaenca, 
 And all discoveries disperse. 
 
 So "Whachum beat his dirty brains 
 
 To advance his master's fame and gains." 
 
 BUTLER. 
 
 The fever which attacked Floret was of th 
 typhoid character, was exceedingly fierce and 
 rapid in its progress, exhibited the most dan- 
 gerous symptoms, "and threatened to prove 
 fatal ; indeed, the physician, whose experience 
 and skill in such cases were of no common de- 
 gree, held out but the faintest hopes of her 
 recovery. 
 
 Everything was against her; her organiza- 
 tion was delicate, her mind had been weakened 
 by long-indulged secret repinings at her 
 equivocal condition ; her frame, too, had been 
 enfeebled by her hard -way of life ; and the 
 seeds of the burning fever which now hugged 
 her in its scorching embrace, sown some 
 months back, had been slowly, but surely, un- 
 dermining her strengch. She lay wholly 
 utterly prostrate exhausted, destitute of the 
 power of moving a poor, little, weak, tender 
 feather, whirled, powerlessly and helplessly, in 
 the hot blast of fever. There was no arresting, 
 no stifling, no stopping it. It was one of those 
 dwasa which no medicine yet discovered has 
 
 succeeded in making succumb to its curative 
 properties. It would burn itself out, and it 
 w^ia a question whether it would not burn the 
 child's life out as well. 
 
 All that could be done for her lay in the few 
 simple rules to be observed in fevers the 
 semi-darkened room airy, well ventilated, 
 sweet, and cool diet but little stronger than 
 water, and watching, careful, constant, gentle, 
 and unflagging watching. 
 
 Floret had all this. 
 
 The Countess of Brackleigh, *n whose breast 
 Revenge had erected a throne, was intensely 
 anxious that her little charge shonld not die ; 
 she, therefore, secured to her, during her ill 
 ness, all the aids calculated to save her life 
 which wealth could command. 
 
 She also readily consented to Susan Atten's 
 entreaty to be allowed to be Floret's nurse, 
 and did every thing which lay within her 
 power, not only to lighten the. violence of 
 the malady, but to provent its proving fatal. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that the coming and 
 going of the Doctor, the injunctions which the 
 servants received to go about the house noise- 
 lessly, and the almost constant confinement of 
 the Oountess of Brackleigb. to her chamber, 
 escaped the notice of the Earl, and he sought 
 from IS" at a solution of tne mystery. 
 
 Toat fuctionary had prepared a note-book 
 for the Earl, filled with lies, but of such a 
 character as not to throw any light upon 
 the jealous suspicions which his master had 
 so absurdly formed, nor, indeed, to cast, 
 even by insinuation, any slur against the fair 
 reputation of ehe Countess. Nat was afraid to 
 attempt to do anything of the kind ; he was, 
 in reality, too cunning. He was quite alive to 
 the fact that the Countess had got him fast 
 in her power, that she Had extorted his se- 
 cret from him, and that she had bribed him 
 to give ner further iniormation on certain 
 matters with which he was likely to become 
 acquainted. He knew that he must, for his 
 own safety and advantage, keep the Earl and 
 his wife apart as widely as he could; he, 
 therefore, arranged a plan by which he "hoped 
 to keep the Earl's suspicions alive, and yet 
 to make him believe that the time was not 
 close enough at hand to make a demonstra- 
 tion, because the proofs upon which such an 
 outbreak must be based were not yet within 
 his reach, although they might soon be. In 
 this scheme he might have succeeded, but 
 for the sudden appearance and the enigmatical 
 movements of the physician backward and 
 forward in the house, without any one but 
 those actually in the Countess's private 
 rooms knowing wherefore. 
 
 Tne Earl was aware that he might be able 
 to arrive at the truth, or rear it, by calling 
 upon the physician, and simply demanding 
 from him an explanation of the objects of his 
 visits to-^he Brackleigh mansion ; but pride for- 
 bade him. Ic was just possible that he might 
 be informed that one of the Countess's maids 
 was suffering from an attack of purple rash, or 
 a sp-ained ankle, and that was a kind of ridi* 
 
HAGAR LOT 
 
 culus mius he was anxious to avoid. It was 
 open to him to directly question the Countess; 
 but he had somewhat Biirewd misgivings re- 
 specting the manner in which she would re- 
 ceive his inttrragatories, and the character of 
 the replies she would probably vouchsafe hiw. 
 He, therefore, ultimately decided to set Nat to 
 ascertain, if possible, who it was that was the 
 object at once of the physician's professional 
 attention and the solicitude of the Countess. 
 
 Nat found his position, as ft living pendulum, 
 oscillating between the Countess and the Earl, 
 the reverse of agreeable or comfortable. He 
 was not at all sanguine that, if he tried his 
 best to unravel what the Countess was evident- 
 ly anxious should remain a secret, he should 
 eucc-eed ; and was quite sure thut the Earl 
 would not remain placid or contented under 
 the repeated asseverations which he foreaaw he 
 should have to make, that he was unable to 
 discover anything more than the Earl was al- 
 ready acquainted with. 
 
 Assuming, however, that his efforts to un- 
 fold the mystery were-crowned with success, 
 and he revealed to the* Earl the result of his 
 discoveries, it would not be possible to keep 
 from the Countess the knowledge that he had 
 been the spy and the informer and what then ? 
 He felt that he would rather brave the wrath 
 of the Earl than the vengeful anger of the 
 Crmntees ; he, therefore, while appearing to 
 follow out closely the instructions of the Earl, 
 did so in a very mild form, and contented him- 
 self by picking, up a few crumbs, instead of 
 tryins te secure the whole loaf. 
 
 However, in great establishments the means 
 t>f communication are so varied, and yet the 
 links are so directly in contact with each 
 other, that it is ecarcely possible to prevent 
 any secrets having such proportions as that of 
 the Countess's possession of Floret, although 
 Bhe was closely concealed in her chamber, from 
 Boon becoming kaown and whispered over the 
 liousehofd. It is but too commenly the case 
 that matters which husband and wife, or either, 
 believe to be securely locked up in their own 
 breasts, are known to and talked about by 
 their servants ; and, therefore, although the 
 Dountesa might have been able to have kept 
 unknown for a time the fact of Floret's being 
 secreted in her private apartmefit, to which on 
 one but herself and confidential maid, Subtle, 
 had aceess, it was wholly impossible to main- 
 tain that secret when, on the child being at- 
 tacked by illness, a doctor had to pass in and 
 ut of the house, and medicines to arrive and 
 be delivered for the Countess, who was moving 
 about as usual, and who, though rather care- 
 worn and pale in countenance, was yet more 
 vigorous and stern in her daily actions than 
 ever. 
 
 So Nat suddenly found a " horrid whisper" 
 running among tha men servants, to the effect 
 that there was " somebody" concealed in the 
 Countess's chamber ; and, being himself cu- 
 rious to know who that somebody was, as the 
 knowledge might bring to bis exchequer more 
 pf those golden reasons for rendering the gia- 
 
 palace and the orange sash a certainty, he cast 
 about among the lavender- plush gentry, who 
 engaged the Earl as their master, with the ob- 
 ject of endeavoring to find one among them 
 who knew the most of the matter, and to quiet- 
 ly draw off that knowledge in the most skrllful 
 way. 
 
 He was not long in discovering the person 
 whom he sought. It oceurred to him that the 
 footman, who mostly attended the Countess 
 when she went out in her carriage for a drive, 
 was a likely person to have an inkling of the 
 exoteric motives which influenced her exoteric 
 movements ; .he. therefore, one morning, on 
 finding that the Earl would not require his 
 services, nor the Countees the attendancejof the 
 individual upon whom he had fixed his eye, 
 affected to meet the latter casually, and, after 
 a brief greeting, remarked, bypothetically, 
 that * rum an' srub" was a fine thing for the 
 " stummick" on " drizzly mornin's". As it 
 happened that a drizzling rain was falling, his 
 fellow- servant drew up one corner of bis mouth, 
 and closed the eye nearest to it. Whereupon, 
 Nat remarked : 
 
 " A vink's as good as an 'hodd to a blind 
 
 'OSS." 
 
 And he jerked his thumb over his left shoul- 
 der, which his companion in lavender inter- 
 preted as meaning that in an adjoining street 
 stood a tavern, where "rum an' erub" as a 
 mixture was to be met with. He thereupon 
 again closed hie right eye and drew up the 
 rigbt corner of his mouth simultaneously. 
 
 "Within two minutes after these expressive 
 eigns had been interchanged, the two individu- 
 als made their appearance in the same " pub- 
 lic" by different doors ; and Nat requested to 
 be favored with a quartern of the beverage 
 which he considered so beneficial to his inter- 
 nal economy on damp mornings, and with two 
 half-quartern glasses. He filled them both to 
 the brim, and, handing one to his companion, 
 he drank to their better acquaintance. The 
 Countees' footman smacked his lips after hav- 
 ing swallowed the contents of his glaes, and he 
 had permitted its fragran ce to per meate through 
 his f palate to his nostrils ; then he warmly 
 expressed bis admiration of the specific, and 
 insisted that the two glaeses ehould be refilled 
 at his expense. 
 
 Nat quietly incited him to continue bis liba- 
 tions, and to parody the words of a poet who 
 never obtained the laureate's crown of laurels, 
 with its attendant annual of filthy lucre 
 
 Oft the replenished goblet did he drain, 
 And drank and sipped, and sipped and drank again ; 
 Such was *he very action the very action such. 
 Until at lengtk he took a drop too much." 
 
 During his progress from sobriety to maudlin 
 inebriety, Nat contrived to extract from him 
 all that he was able to communicate. It was 
 not much, but enough to let him know that the 
 | somebody so carefully concealed within his 
 ' lady's chamber was a child whom she had one 
 morning taken up in her carriage, in a fainting 
 condition, in the -neighborhood of Knights- 
 bridge. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 15 
 
 As, soon after tins revelation, he began to 
 display a tendency to tears, and an indisposi- 
 tion to sustain himself erect, Nat thought it 
 advisable to coaduct him back to the mansion. 
 Wnen he reaahed it, he found a difficulty ^in 
 disposing of his companion ; for the operation 
 of the liquor had been, though insidious, rapid. 
 Although unable to stand, the latter declared 
 himself anxioua for a frolic, and in the same 
 breath suggested a visit to a cemetery ; he in- 
 stated on chanting the chorus of " Here's a 
 Health to all good lasses", but moaned forth,, 
 in melancholy tones, "All in the 'Downs!" 
 
 As this description of behavior was calcu- 
 late! to occasion a scandal in the household, in 
 which he should have to bear the brunt, Nat 
 contrived to snuggle this " sprig of laweader" 
 as he termed it, into hi3 own room, aad to 
 place him on his bed, id the hope that within 
 an hour or two he would be able to sleep oif 
 the effects of his potations. 
 
 Hiving succeeded in calming his hilarious 
 proclivities, ani in soothing his succeeding 
 lachrymose tribute to the memory of a de- 
 parted ' haunt Lidyer", Nat lulled him off to 
 sleep, by pretending to share hi s^ anguish at 
 his bereavement, and to mingle his tears with 
 " his'n". 
 
 As with emotions of lively satisfaction, he 
 heard the nasal trumpet of the "aprig of la- 
 wender" announce that he had crossed the 
 boundary of wakefulness into the land of 
 dreams, he resolved to go through the process 
 of ablution, in order to remove from his per- 
 sonal appearance all traces of the state of 
 semi fuddle in which he felt himself to be, for, 
 in order to induce his companion to drink, he 
 had partaken freely himself tf the baverage htr 
 had recommended, and for which he Had a 
 sneaking kindness. 
 
 As he turned to quit the bedside, he en- 
 coantered his master, the Eirl of Brackleigh. 
 
 He was standing near to the parcly-openei 
 door, and had evidently been watching the 
 latter part of Nat's proceedings with some- 
 thing more than a feeling of curiosity. 
 
 Nat shrunk from the fierce glare of his eye, 
 and bent his head very much with the aspect 
 of a cur who anticipates an unfriendly visit 
 from a boot. 
 
 The Eirl turning a penetrating glance on 
 Nat's greasy, half-dirty face, his pink, flashed 
 cheeks, and his diminished, twinkling eyes, 
 said, in alow, short, stern voice : 
 
 " What is the meaning of this drunken 
 orgie ?" 
 
 Nat[tried to moisten his lips with his furred 
 tongue, and a thought passed through his 
 mind, registering a doubt whether he would 
 be able to speak clearly or not. Before he 
 could settle the point with himself, the Earl 
 repeated his question with angry vehemence, 
 and there was such a savage ferocity in his 
 eyes, that the expression recalled to Nat's 
 memory his promise to strangle him if he 
 ehoAild discover at any time that he had proved 
 faithless to him. 
 He was seized with a panic, and without 
 
 stopping to reflect whether he could articulate 
 clearly or not, he made a clean breast of the 
 matter. He told the Earl of the stratagem he 
 had employed to ascertain from Lady Brack- 
 leigh's footman if he knew whether any indi- 
 vidual was concealed in her ladyship's apart- 
 ment or not, and if any person, who that per- 
 son was, and he rela.ed the success he had 
 met with. 
 
 The Earl, as Nat concluded, looked petrified 
 with astonishment. 
 
 4i A child," he muttered; "a child! this 
 revelation only increases the mystery. What 
 child is this whote child ? Good God ! She 
 spoke of Having Her secret in this house." 
 
 His cheek blanched, cold perspiration stood 
 in thick beads uj>on his foreheads, he gasped 
 for breath, for he felt as if he should suffocate. 
 
 He at once believed thafc he was being 
 fouajht with his own weapons. 
 
 He ground his teeth together, and clenched 
 his hands. 
 
 " Death and hell!" he murmured, between 
 his grating teeth ; "it f^nnot be her child!" 
 
 He turned fiercely to Nat, and clatched 
 him tightly by the arm. 
 
 "Have you seen this child?" he asked, 
 with eyes almost starting out of their sockets. 
 
 " No," returned Nat, rapidly ; ' no, my 
 Lord, I never seed nothick on it. I only 
 heerd on it from " 
 
 Ha jerked hia thumb over his left shoulder 
 toward the bed, on which he had placed the 
 "sprig ot lawender". 
 
 The Eirl gnawed his knuckles nervously, 
 and presently added : 
 
 " What iii the age of the the imp ?" 
 
 " The wb&o, my Lord?" asked Nat, looking 
 at him inquiringly. 
 
 " The child ; how old is it ?" returned the 
 Earl, impatiently. 
 
 ' I shol' say 'bout 'bout twel' year 
 abou' twel' year ol' she coul't be a day oiler, 
 I shol' say," remarked a very drunken voice 
 behind them. 
 
 They both turned hastily, and beheld Lady 
 Brackleigh's footman, upon his hands and 
 knees on the bed, with white face, very disor- 
 dered hair and ueckcloib, and bleared eyes, 
 staring directly at thtm. 
 
 Ha was balancing himself with much diffi- 
 culty, and as he promised each instant ..to 
 shoot forward on to the ground head first, 'Nat 
 ran up to him and forced him back on the 
 bed. 
 
 Nat turned hi? face round to the Eir! as if 
 to aek for instructions. The Earl's brows were 
 knitted, and he appeared much excited. 
 
 He approached "Nat, and, in an undertone,, 
 said to him : 
 
 " Does the filthy scoundrel mean ta say 
 that the child is a girl about twelve years 
 old ?" 
 
 Nat nodded affirmatively, in reply. 
 
 The Earl reflected for a moment, and Ms 
 face became of a ghastly, livid hue. 
 
 " Can I have been tricked ?" he soliloquiz- 
 ed, mentally. " Can htr marriage with mg 
 
if' 
 
 HAGAK LOT 
 
 have been an affair of convenience, in a eenee I 
 could never have dreamed of? My braia is in 
 a flame. I must have 1 will wring an explan- 
 ation from her ! Furies ! if for tiich a crea- 
 ture as this deed will make her, I should have 
 eaerificed Constance I t will shoot her 
 myseJf ! Curses ! what a desperate revenge I 
 will have! 1 ' 
 
 The guilty always believe those whom they 
 tnay hare some reason to suspect to be as 
 guilty as themselves. It is enough for them 
 if they harbcr ouiy a suspicion against the in- 
 nocent, to lorce a conviction at once that they 
 are they must be guilty. 
 
 The Earl of Bracklcigh no sooner conceived 
 that he had reason to suspect L'idy Brack- 
 leigh, than he believed at once the worst he 
 could imagine. 
 
 He paced the room with disordered step, 
 with the excitement and the gestures of a ma- 
 niac. Nat felt alarmed, and his fears were not 
 ullayed when the Earl, approaching him, gazed 
 upon him with eyes which glittered like those 
 of a tiger. 
 
 He pointed to the* drunken footman, and. 
 eaid : 
 
 "Inquire of that beast whether, as I sup- 
 pose, it is the newly-acknowledged brat who 
 is ill, and if so, wha; is the nature of the ill 
 ness." 
 
 Nat put the question to the footman, who re- 
 plied, inarticulately" 
 
 "Tyf fever tyf fever, ver bad all k^sh it 
 go through th' 'ouse all 'ouse die all die. 
 I shall foil' m' poor haunt Lidyer to th' col' 
 chur' yard. Oh I oh! wow! wow! wow!" 
 
 Nat crammed a pillow into his mouth, for 
 he saw the Earl start and lc.ok aghast. 
 
 The Earl was a man who had a horror of all 
 infectious diseases. He had ah impression 
 that he was extremely susceptible to disease, 
 although during his life he had been singular- 
 ly tree from attacks of illness ; but that fact he 
 attributed to the precautions which he had al- 
 ways taken. When, therefore, he learned that 
 he was. in a house in which typhus fever 
 bad for some days been rampant, he all but 
 fainted. 
 
 Self having invariably beeia his rule of life, 
 he, in an instant, forgot almost everything 
 which just before had nearly driven him delir 
 jous, and he thought only of the possibility of 
 the p.<eeds of the fever being already sown in 
 his frame, and that they might shortly de- 
 velop themselves, and striking him down, 
 prove fatal to him. 
 
 Most men, with such a terrible suspicion 
 pressing upon their brain as he had upon his, 
 would have dared the contamination of the 
 fever, and have forced their wav to the pres- 
 ence of the wife and the child. His only idea 
 was, to fly instantly from the spot, so that he 
 should cot be compelled to breathe the same 
 atmosphere, and when at a distance, seek for 
 an explanation by letter, although he would 
 not now receive a written communication from 
 his wife until it had been fumigated. 
 
 This weakness ef the Larl is one by no 
 
 means uncommon, but the fact does not rescue 
 it from being contemptible, 
 lie turned to Nat, and said : 
 " Have you been near the eick chamber ?' 
 Nat intended to have replied in the affirma- 
 j tive, but confused by the struggles he had to 
 make to keep the footman quiet under the pil- 
 low, for he objected to being stifled, and alarm- 
 ed by the appalling expression on the Earl'a 
 face, he shook his head. 
 
 "Then!" cried the Earl, excitedly; "in- 
 stantly pack up your clothes, and prepare to 
 accompany me for a month's travel on the 
 Continent I do not know where yet." 
 
 He hastened from the chamber ns he con- 
 cluded, end Nat, immediately be disappeared, 
 promptly removed the " eprig of Jawender" 
 from bis bed, as he entertained a strong ; m- 
 preseion that the eprig would almcst immedi- 
 ately prove very ill. 
 
 He guided him to the corridor, end then in- 
 troduced him to the ervant'e staircase, which, 
 being well-shaped and narrow, gave Ue "eprig" 
 an opportunity of proving ihefacilis.dfccnsus. 
 Nat heard him elide and bunip, and roll and 
 thump down three flights of etairs, acd being 
 mentally convinced that he would reach the 
 bottom, he returned to his room, hastily wash- 
 ed himself, and having completed his toilet, he 
 packed his clothes. Before he had finished, 
 be received a summons from the Ear), and 
 within two hours eubeequently was with the 
 latter aLd his \alet on the way to Brighton. 
 
 The fresh sea-air prevailing there, the Earl 
 trusted would prove a specific for the typhus 
 fever, even supposing that he had already be- 
 come slightly infected by it. 
 
 Lady Brackleigh was informed by the Earl 
 himself of his departure from London, but not 
 until he had quitted it, and then he did so in a 
 brief note. He declined to'tell her in what di- 
 rection he had gone. She had thought proper, 
 be remicded her, to bring an infectious fever 
 into his hovee ; and so long as tkere was a pos- 
 sibility of its being communicated to him, 
 even through her epistles to him, he begged 
 to be excused uamifg his whereabouts. He 
 had no doubt they should meet sgain as soon 
 as she wsuld be likely to desire it ; but he 
 trusted that the event would not take place 
 until the disease bad not otly been extirpated 
 from Brackleigh Mansion, but that the possi- 
 bility of conveying the taint in her garmente 
 was hkewiee entirely removed. 
 
 Lady Brackleigh ftlt bitterly wounded by 
 this insulting communication. It. however, 
 served to keep her resentment p.live, and to 
 make her desire for vengeance yet stronger and 
 fiercer than ever. 
 
 Sbe made no observation respecting the 
 Earl's sudden departure ; she sent no com- 
 plaining letter to her fa.ther ; she did np.t make 
 her attached young friend, Lady Adela Tre- 
 vor, a confidant of her griefs or troubles, even 
 to confide t,o her the cold- blooded manner in 
 which the Earl in this last act had treated her. 
 She remained passive, seemingly emotion- 
 less, save that she bestowed the most anxious 
 
OB, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 if 
 
 and watchful care on poor little Floret. Not 
 alone because ehe wished to preserve her life, 
 that she might prove the instrument of her re- 
 venge, but because there was something BO 
 touching in the child's helpless and seeming 
 friendless condition, that she could not bear 
 that it should die thus. 
 
 In eo fragile a frame, a fever fierce as tbat 
 which had attacked Floret was not long in 
 reacting its height, and the crisis arrived one 
 evening while the physician was preeent. 
 
 It waa an affecting scene, that moment when 
 the poor little creature's life was oscillating 
 upon the confines of existence aad death. 
 
 She lay apparently bereft of life already. 
 The phy&icuvn, with his watch in hia hand, held 
 her wrist, and couated the beatings of her 
 pulae, so feeble in its vibrations, that only hia 
 experienced fingers could have told that it 
 beat at all. Tae Countess of B -ackiei^h bent 
 over the waxen face of the child, watchiag her 
 half- parted lips with an intensity of anxisty 
 which cannot be described. Sasan At'eo 
 crouched down by the bedside, convulsed with 
 grief, her face buried in the coverlet, stifling 
 the sobs, which seemed as if they would rend 
 her bosom asunder. Lidy Adela Trovor, like 
 an earthly seraph, knelt and prayed to a mer- 
 ciful Almighty, for the admission of that little, 
 frail, all but sinless soul, into the regions of 
 eternal felicity, if it. should please Him to take 
 her to him^lf. 
 
 The moat profound silence prevailed. The 
 ticking of the watch, which the physician held 
 in his hand, was since heard. 
 
 His attention was riveted as well upon the 
 child's face as upon her pulse. 
 
 Occasionally he would remove his hand from 
 her wri^t, and place it upon her brow, leave it 
 thfsre, and take it away again, with something 
 like an expression of disappointment upon bis 
 faee. He would then place it upon her heart, 
 and press it gently ; and, af.er a minute or two, 
 reiu-n it to her wrist. it seemed almost with 
 an aspect of renewed hope. 
 
 Now and then he moistened her lips with a 
 grape, or bathed her scorched brow with a 
 sponge, moistened with vinegar and water , 
 font still she remained perfectly motionless. 
 
 At an unexpected moment she moaned, and 
 then heaved a gentle sigh. 
 
 At tae same tiu-ie ehe opened her eyes, and, 
 moving them, gazed slowly round her, as if 
 she kae*r rot where sbe was. 
 
 ' Whichever of you ladies know the poor 
 little creature the best torn your face to her," 
 hastily exclaimed the Doctor, in a whisper. 
 
 Susan A.tten instantly raised her face from 
 Ihe coverlet, and laid it genily near to Flor- 
 et's. 
 
 As soon a? the faint eyes or the child rented 
 upon it, ebe sooilwd ?wetly, and in a low, feeble 
 ^oice, actrcly audible, murmured : 
 
 "M-imoia Atten ! dear, dear Mammi At- 
 ten !" 
 
 " She is saved !" fj vculated the phjeician, in 
 \ low, impressive toue. 
 Tae Countess rose up, and, turning her fac$ 
 
 away, buried it in her handkerchief. Lady 
 Adeia audibly, between her sobs, returned 
 thanks to Heaven. 
 
 Poor, weak, worn-out Susan Atten fainted 
 away. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " blynd world : O blynd intencion 
 How oft fttlle at the effect U contrair." CHAVCEB, 
 
 ' For men shall not BO nere of counsel been 
 With womauhede, DC knowen ot her guise, 
 Ne what they ihiuk, ne of their wit tnengine 
 I me report to Salomon the wipe, 
 Aod mighty Sampson, which beguiled thrice 
 Wi h Dalida was * he wot that la a throwe, 
 There may no man, statute of women knowe." 
 
 THB COUET OF LOTS. 
 
 Yes! Floret was saved ! 
 
 The fire, which had raged with impetuous 
 
 fory, had burned itself out, leaving the little 
 
 delicate frame refined and purified, as virgin 
 
 old after it has been freed from is earthly 
 
 roes by the fiercest heat. 
 
 It hjid been elow in its approaches, and the 
 signs it gave of having established itself in her 
 system were misinterpreted by both Susan and 
 Hatty as harbingers of that most ineidioua and 
 fatal of all diseases to which the human frame 
 is suVject consumption! 
 
 The fever left her strengthless, pewerless, 
 and wasted to a shadow ; but, as the physician 
 said, the renewal of her powers resolved itself 
 into a question of pure eoft air and sunny 
 skies. 
 
 He prognosticated that, with the help oi 
 those charming essentials to health, she would 
 Boon be stronger and in better condition than, 
 perhaps, she had ever been. 
 
 The Countess readily undertook to provide 
 her with a country home, arl made an offer to 
 Susan A'ten to allow her a com/onable in- 
 come if ebe would give ap her occupation as a 
 dressmaker, and take charge of Floret. To 
 this proposition Susan readily consented, and 
 arrangements were soon made and completed. 
 
 At the expiration of a fortnight, Floret, 
 though etill feeble, was pronounced strong 
 enough to be moved. Temporary apartments 
 had been taken for her in the suburbs of the 
 town of Reigate, and thither Susan departed 
 with her. Hatty accompanied her, having de- 
 cided to give her pupila a rest, and take a little 
 holiday hereelf. 
 
 She bad not much fear of losing her connec- 
 tion. She had not to learn tbat DO other per- 
 son couli give ttie lessons she did at a cheaper 
 fignre. 
 
 Toe Countess of Brackleigh had certainly 
 undtr the suggestion of, and with the eanction 
 of the physician se ] ected Reigate as the place 
 best calculated to rapidly restore Floret to 
 health ; but she had ulso selected it because of 
 her intended vieit to Brighton, to obtain the 
 certificate of marriage between Bertram and 
 Constance PUntacenet. She was not certain 
 but that ehe ifcight have some difficulty in ob- 
 taining the certificate, that it might involve 
 tome time ; and a* she did net think it would 
 be prudent to remain iu Brighton alone, and 
 
HAG AH LOI 
 
 she did not wish to return to London after 
 very visit, she conceived the idea of sojourn- 
 ing at lleigate in secret with Florst, until she 
 had secured the document which, while it gave 
 to her an enormous power over Bertram, would 
 eome day serve to restore the Tpor Girl to her 
 proper position. 
 
 It would, perhapp, however, be hard to say 
 what were her actual intentions. In fact, she 
 had not laid down any real plan to pursue 
 after she had* obtained the certificate of Ber- 
 tram's marriage to Constance. Badly as he 
 had behaved to her, ehe, woman-like, did not 
 wish to part with Bertram. She was anxious 
 to have him completely in thrall, but not to 
 surrender him altogether. But she had a pre 
 dominant wUh to be revenged upon the Mar- 
 chioness of Westcaester. Tbe hate with which 
 she regarded her was intense, and she was bent 
 upon her downfall, even if it involved the de- 
 struction of her own happiness. Under any 
 circumstances, she did not intend to hesitate 
 or to falter in her progress, until she had se- 
 cured the desired certificate ; and when that 
 was safely ia her possession, she foresaw that 
 she would have to be guided in her fut-ure pro- 
 ceedings, in a ^reat degree, by the direction, 
 events i^i^ht take. 
 
 The cottage in which F.oret^ found a new 
 home was situated on the road* leading from 
 Reigate to Dorking, tfot far from '.t was a 
 picturesque, heath-covered, sandy moor, on 
 which stood a mill, and the scenery around it 
 was of the most picturesque* description. A 
 few days only passed there had a % magical ef- 
 fect upon Floret. She gained strength and 
 appetite hourly and at the expiration of a 
 week, she could walk a mile more without 
 fatigue. Toe-restorative qualities and invigor- 
 ating properties of that charming locality to 
 fever-stricken- invalids are, indeed, something 
 extraordinary ; but no one ever had more oc~ 
 casion to be grateful for th benefits than 
 Floret. 
 
 She recovered ber spirits with "her strength, 
 and soon grew as lively and joyous as she bad, 
 before her illness, been dull and listless. She 
 hankered for the fresh air, and was scarcely 
 contented unless out in it, and breathing in it; 
 but in the evenings, when a little tired by her 
 day's exertions, she would ply her needle 
 under instructions from Susan, or devote her- 
 self to writing, under the able tuition of Hatty 
 Marr. 
 
 During this brief interval, the Countess of 
 Brackleigh lingered in London, hoping to re- 
 ceive some communication from Bertram, in- 
 forming her, at least, where he was staying; 
 but none came, and she wept bitterly in secret 
 His unfeeling conduct, however, only hardened 
 her resolution, and made her loathing of the 
 cause of her wrong increase in bitterness. In- 
 stead of abandoning her project, therefore, as 
 she might have been, perhaps, induced to do, 
 had the Earl been kind and commonly atten- 
 tive to her, she determined to waste no more 
 time, but to execute it- 
 She preserved her usual manner before the 
 
 servants, and took the absence of tbe Earl' 
 their master, as a matter of course, tbe result 
 of no division of feeling between them, but 
 simply as a proceeding which had ira proper 
 inducements, and was perfectly en regie. 
 
 She did not elective one of the n^ sJthougb 
 she hoped the did ; and she at length departed 
 from London, too. This time, however, fol- 
 lowing the example which her 1. rd had given 
 her, without dropping a hint whither ehe was 
 going. 
 
 She proceeded direct to Brighton, attended 
 only by her maid, Subtle, etd, leaving her to 
 frmuee'hereelf upon tbe teach, in front of the 
 Esplanade, ehe proceeded on to Hove alone. 
 
 Aa soon as she could see a disengaged car- 
 riage, she hired it, and, after mak'rg aonse in 
 quiries of the flyman, sLe proceeded at once to 
 the reeidecce of the Clerk cf St. Mary's 
 Church, and having, fortunately, found him at 
 home, ehe re quested him to accompany fcer to 
 the church, in order that he might give her a 
 copy of a certificate of marriage "which the re- 
 quired. 
 
 The request, though not common to a pain- 
 fulJy lucrative extent, was etill rot altogether 
 an unusual one ; but the style of the lafly 
 who made it was pueh as to command his at- 
 tention. Like the Marchioness of "Weetchester, 
 she was thickly vailed; but the elegance of 
 her drees, the magcificence of feer jeweJry, and 
 the exquisitely fragrant perfume that pervaded 
 the atmosphere whenever ehe moved, convinced 
 him that he had another " tip-top lady" for a 
 customer, and vieions of sovereign number 
 two, in lieu of a chilling, danced before his 
 joyous eyes. 
 
 He ushered the lady over the eame ground 
 which the Marchioness of Weetchester had 
 trodden, bent upon the eame errand as herself, 
 but a short time before. She entered the lit- 
 tleyvestry, and, as the obsequious clerk ques- 
 tioned her respecting tte date of tbe year of 
 the- mania (re of which ehe required the copy 
 of a certificate, it is doubtful whether the 
 heart of the Marclioress, at a similar mcment, 
 beat with greater violerce than cid hers. 
 
 She consulted a slip of paper, which she 
 held in he? hand, and named the year 1832. 
 
 In a moment, the volume of that year was 
 placed before her. 
 
 " Our charge for exemhnng the book is one 
 shilling per vol.," observed* the Clerk, leaning 
 for a moment upon it, with folded arrcs, and 
 gazing up at ber vail, as 'if with the intention 
 of scrutinizing her features. 
 
 She shrunk, with a slight movement, tack- 
 ward. 
 
 "And our charge for a copy of a certifi- 
 cate, 5 ' he continued, " is " 
 
 She placed in bis bands a sovereign, and he 
 dispatched it to the depths of his pccket. 
 
 "Did you wish a ," he remarked, with a 
 bland smile, and hesitated. 
 
 4 I wish to examine the book myself," she 
 interposed, a little hurriedly. 
 
 14 Cer-tainly," he rejoined, laying it open be- 
 fore her. "If you should wish a " 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 19 
 
 " I will call your attention to what I require, 
 when I have discovered the entry of which I 
 am in search," she interrupted, in a low tone, 
 
 " Ver y good, Madam," he exclaimed, over- 
 lapping bls'hands rapidly ; and the change ]' 
 
 " I shill not require it," she returned, hasti- 
 ly ; "I hate to be burdened with silver." 
 I, He bowed, and mentally congratulated him- 
 selfoanofc being afflicted with such a weak- 
 ness. He reflected, at the same moment, that 
 silver was a burden which was seldom imposed 
 upon him, and he thought that he should not 
 groan under is, if it were. 
 
 " I shall ba within hearing, if you will do 
 me the honor to call me, when you require my 
 assistance," he remarked, as, with a bow, he 
 glided into the church to rout up the pew-open- 
 er, who, as usual, was not there, and, as he 
 constantly declared, never was, when he want- 
 ed her which, perhaps, was ftener than he 
 was entitled to exppct. 
 
 The Countess, as soon as he had departed, 
 produced the card which she had intercepted 
 on its way from Nat to Bertram. She referred 
 to the opposite side to that on which he had 
 printed the names of the principals and the 
 witnesses of the marriage between Constance 
 and Bertram, and there saw some memoranda, 
 which, though in pencil, she intuitively felt 
 related to the entry in the register book. They 
 were as follows : 
 
 " Page 134. December 5th, 1832. No. 107." 
 
 She, after examining these numbers and 
 dates with attention, turned over the leaves for 
 page 134. 
 
 She arrived at page 133. The last marriage 
 register upon it was marked "No. 106." 
 
 She paused, and felt dizzy for a moment ; 
 but, nerving herself to her task, she turned 
 over the leaf, the entry upon which, when made 
 known to the world, was to blight her fame and 
 position for ever. 
 
 Shivering, shuddering, cold as a stone, she 
 placed her trembling fingers upon the mar- 
 riage there recorded, and fastened her dim eyes 
 upon the written names. 
 
 She started, with a cry of amazement they 
 were not those she sought. She ran her eye 
 eagerly down the page. There was not one 
 name which ehe recognized ; she referred to 
 the preceding page to^the subsequent page 
 but with the same disappointing result She 
 examined the card again, the page noted down 
 was certainly 134, and the number of the mar- 
 riage 107. She returned to the book, and 
 found that she had been examining page 135, 
 She went back to the preceding page it was 
 numbered 133. The marriage registered upon 
 it was 106. She turned over the leaf, the mar- 
 riage on the page was numbered 103. 
 
 The leaf which contained the register of 
 Bertram's marriage with Constance was gone. 
 
 She examined the centre of the book where 
 it was stitched, and the mystery was explain- 
 ed. 
 
 She discovered that the leaf had been sharp- 
 ly and cleanly cut out at the centre, and ex- 
 tracted. 
 
 Overcome by the disappointment, she bowed 
 her face on the book, and a passionate burs^ 
 of tears gushed from her eyes. 
 
 She was, she believed, defeated, and Con- 
 ctance had triumphed. Keflection, however, 
 came to her aid, and re-assured her the tri- 
 umph could be only for a time. She had yet 
 in her power the child, whom she was sure was 
 the offspring of the secret marriage, the record 
 of which she was searching for, and she deter- 
 mined to endeavor to find out, with the aid of 
 Nat Ferret, who she considered was in her 
 power, the witnesses. Her labors would be in- 
 creased, she perceived, but she resolved to 
 overcome the difficulty by energy and deter- 
 mination. 
 
 She removed the traces of her tears, and 
 called the Clerk. He approached her, rubbing 
 his hands. She gazed at him with a stern as- 
 pect, and pointed to the book. 
 
 " I wish to consult page 134," ehe said. " I 
 cannot find it." 
 
 "That is a small difficulty very soon got 
 over, Madam," he returned, rather awed bj 
 her haughty manner, 
 
 " I hope so," she rejoined. 
 
 "No doubt of it," he responded. <! Here 
 you will perceive we have page 184, and mar- 
 riage No. 106. The marriages, you will un- 
 derstand, Madam, are numbered* as well as the 
 pages, so that, in the event of an error occur- 
 ring in paging the book, or in numbering the 
 marriage, it can be soon set right. Now, here 
 you see there is a palpable mistake in the 
 paging of 133 and 135 , but we overcome that 
 stupid miatake by the number of the mar- 
 riage. Thus, here we have No. 106, and 
 here," he paused, " and here and here No. 
 108. Good Heaven! the leaf has been cut 
 out!" he cried, with chattering teeth, as he 
 ran his finger up the centre of the volume, 
 and felt the sharp edge of the other half of 
 the sheet of paper, to which page 134 had 
 been attached. "Felony felony!" he mut- 
 tered, with shaking knees. 
 
 The Countess looked at him fixedly. It was 
 a question which instantly presented itself to 
 her mind, whether the man had not been a 
 party to the abstraction, and had received a 
 heavy bribe for his complicity. 
 
 " Tell me," she said, in slow but marked 
 tones, " whether you can remember any other 
 person than myself requesting to see the entry 
 of the marriage at page 134." 
 
 "Remember," he ejaculated, in a lachry- 
 mose tone ; " remember how should I re- 
 member, when people are constantly coming 
 and wanting copies of the books ? Remem- 
 ber" v 
 
 " Do you recollect making a copy from the 
 register of a marriage entered on page 134, 
 recently?" interrupted the Countess, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Recently ?" he echoed, vacantly. 
 
 "Yes; a day a day a week a month 
 a year back ?" she cried, with restless anxiety. 
 
 He clasped his hands to bis forehead and 
 said, reflectively : 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 "I made a copy of a register of a marriage 
 for a lady from that volume a short time 
 ago " 
 
 "Tall, commanding presence, elegantly 
 dressed f" suggested the Countess, rapidly. 
 
 "Ye ye jes," he replied, eagerly; "a 
 queen of a woman." 
 
 The Countess's lip curled with a smile of tri- 
 umph. 
 
 " A fresh crime," she muttered. " 0, if I 
 ean but bring it home to her, I'll drag her to 
 the tribunal of justice." 
 , Then, addressing the Clerk, she said : 
 \ " Call to your remembrance the names of 
 the persons of whose marriage she wished to 
 obtain a certified copy." 
 
 " yes, I can do that," cried the Clerk, 
 quickly. " In fact, I have the copy here. She 
 pointed out the names, and was to call for the 
 copy, but she has notyefc been." 
 
 " Let me see it," exclaimed the Countess, 
 sharply, as with trembling fingers he pro- 
 duced from a large pocketbook a printed form 
 filled up. 
 
 She almost snatched it from him, and with 
 glittering eyes, perueed it. 
 
 After reading the first few words, she flung 
 ifback to him. 
 
 . ""It is an extract from page 145," she said, 
 in a tone of disappointment. " The names 
 are^enry Creapy and Isabella Lane, and not 
 what I seek. The certificate I am in search of 
 is, I tell you, from page 134 the names, Len- 
 nox Bertram and Constance Seville " 
 
 He clapped his hands together with a smack 
 which rung through the aisles of the church 
 
 "I have it now I have it now !" he cried, 
 excitedly. " Some time in June last, in the 
 early part of tke month,"a ehort, low, horse- 
 stealing -looking fellow came to me, and want- 
 ed a certificate from the very page, 134, and 
 containing the precise names you mention. I 
 wrote it out for him, and he grumbled at my 
 charge of three and sixpence, and offered to 
 toss me whether he sheuld pay me four shil- 
 lings or nothing. O, I recollect it well now. 
 'Page 134, Lennox Bertram, Constance Ne- 
 ville', and " 
 
 "Did you leave him here alone for any 
 length of time ?" inquired the Couatess, ab- 
 ruptly. 
 
 " Only for a minute or two, at most," re- 
 turned the Clerk, agitatedly. " The fact is, 
 that he tendered me a most suspicious-looking 
 .five- shilling piece when indignantly refusing 
 to toss with him, I withheld the copy of the 
 certificate and requested change. 1 declined 
 to take it, but he said he had no other silver, 
 and I ran to find the pew-opener, who happen 
 ed to be out of the way at the moment, as she 
 mostly is when I want her. I tried the piece 
 by ringing and biting it, and believing it, at 
 last, to be a good one, which it certainly proved 
 to be, I returned to him hastily. I fortunate- 
 ly happened to have some loose silver ia my 
 waistcoat pocket, and from that I gave him 
 his change." 
 
 " Was ho touching or looking over the rol- 
 
 ume when you returned?" inquired the Count- 
 esp, thoughtfully. 
 
 'No, Madam," retufted the Clerk; "I 
 found him leaning against the doorway of the 
 vtstry here, singing in a loud voice a profane 
 song about 'Vixen and Towler, and Merry 
 Legs and Joyler, and they were the dogs that 
 'ood follow.' I reproved him, aod started him 
 off. That's the man who has cut the leaf out 
 of the book, Madam." 
 
 "Are you sure cf it?" she aske<% quietly 
 and earnestly. 
 
 "As sure as I caa be of anything in the 
 world," he replied, quickly. " HH looked like 
 a thhf, and no doubt he had some villainous 
 motive for extracting that reeiaer. He has 
 been bribed to do it bribed. Madam, by some 
 influential parties, you may be ture of thai." 
 
 " What makes you think so ?" she inquired, 
 eyeing him with a peLetrating glance. 
 
 " What, Madam, let me a.*k you, would such 
 a low-looking thief want with the aoual cer- 
 tincate of the marriage of two persons who 
 could not be any concections of his ?" return- 
 ed the Clerk, with nervous agitation ; " no 
 no, there's mystery in if, property in it ; but, 
 fortunately, I know where to lay my hand upon 
 h m." 
 
 The Countess started, and glanced at him 
 with eager surprise. She was estouiabed, be- 
 cause she recognized Nat Ferret by the Clerk's 
 description ; and as she ktew that he Lad ac- 
 companied the Earl when he left, London, and 
 she did not know whither be had gone, she 
 marveled how the Clerk should. 
 
 " You know where to lay your hand upon 
 him? ' she echoed. 
 
 "Yes, Madam," he replied, noddirg Lishead 
 expres-eively ; " I saw him yesterday." 
 
 " You did ?'' she ejaculated, amazed. 
 
 "Yes, Madam, 1 did,'' replied the Cierk, 
 copying her emphasis r>n the pronoun ; *' and 
 before he's maoy hours older, I'll eet oui chief 
 officer, Solomon, on him." 
 
 " Stay," interposed the Countess, " one mo- 
 ment, it" you please. You sy that you saw 
 the person whom you suspect of hav'irg pur- 
 loined the . leaf out of yonder book, Yester- 
 day ?'' 
 
 ' I do, Madam, and I can prove it." return- 
 ed the Clerk. 
 
 " Where?" she aekefl, quietly. 
 
 "Just before you came to the Battery, in 
 the King's Road," was the reply. 
 
 " How waa he attired ?" she at>ked. 
 
 " As 8 sharp, smart groom ; he was drossfd 
 in a dark gray suit," replied the Cl-rk. "He 
 wa^ so altered for the better, I scarcely knew 
 him ; but it was the same man. 1'il swear to 
 him." 
 
 "Was he alone?" inquired the Countess, 
 with eagerness. 
 
 "He was mounted upon a beautiful bay 
 horee, following bis master, who was on u short 
 distance in front of him/' 
 
 " Describe his master to me !" exclaimed 
 the Countess, in an authoritative, almost a 
 fierce tone. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GlRL. 
 
 The man was startled by her sudden ve- 
 hemence. 
 
 " I did not take much notice of him, Ma- 
 dam," be answered ; " but I should Bay he 
 was an officer in the aimy, or a nobleman 
 perhaps both. He had a very handsome face, 
 with a dark mustache, and sat his horse like 
 an Earl." 
 
 The Countess pressed her hand for a mo- 
 ment over her eyes. 
 
 So the Earl was in Brighton ; perhaps had 
 divined her purpose, and had anticipated it by 
 the aid of Nat. 
 
 A cold, death-like feeling stole over her as 
 ahe saw that, if her eurmise were true, bow ut- 
 terly she was in his power to wear as a wife so 
 long as it suited him to do so, and to cast off 
 as worthless when the moment arrived which 
 would tnable to do so with impunity. 
 
 Men may, in some degree, be able to sympa- 
 thize wilh her unhappy condition ; but it is 
 woman, and woman only, who can realize what 
 she suffered while these thoughts were passing 
 through her mind. 
 
 The Clerk rambled on with a mixture of 
 menaces and lamentations, while her brain was 
 distracted by the thoughts which thronged 
 and raced through it. She at first heeded 
 him not, bat the necessity for seL-exertion and 
 command pressed itself upon her considera- 
 tion ; and in the midst of a wild denunciation 
 of Nat, which rolled like soft thunder from the 
 lips of the Clerk, followed by a somewhat 
 watery declaration that he would not rest until 
 he hanged him, she raised her hand and stilled 
 the torrent. 
 
 She produced a purse, and pulled out sever- 
 al pieces of gold, which, being new from the 
 mint, had a very attractive glitter. They 
 sparkled, and so did the eyes of the Clerk. 
 
 " Listen to me, if you please," observed the 
 Countess, with a subdued bat peculiarly im- 
 pressive tone and manner. " I am the person 
 most deeply wronged by the abstraction of 
 that register of marriage. It inflicts upon me 
 a lasting injury, or its destruction may prove 
 of the greatest benefit to me. Under either 
 phase, I alone am likely to make an outcry 
 about this wicked robbery. At present it is 
 of the utmost importance to me that it should 
 be kept secret." 
 
 She placed several gold pieces in his appar 
 Btly most reluctantly proffered hand, and 
 Bftid . 
 
 "Do not imagine for an instant that I would 
 insult you by attempting to bribe you. I aek 
 only of you as a favor to keep this matter a 
 secret until I bid you speak. It will not be 
 discovered if you are silent, for there is only 
 one marriage entered upon that leaf, and you 
 will receive no further applications for a copy 
 of that certificate I am sure of that. I, too, 
 know the man who has stolen it, and I cm 
 recovtr it where you would fail. I see clearly, 
 if you do not, that you would be able to estab- 
 lish against him at most a suspicion of gui.t ; 
 for, no douHt, other persons have had access to 
 the same bock between his application and 
 your discovery of the abstraction," 
 
 " They have," groaned the Clerk, slipping 
 the goldjjpieces into his gaping and not unwili 
 ing pocket. 
 
 " Therefore, let matters rest as they are at 
 present," she added. " Give me your name 
 and address, so that when occasion demands it, 
 I may write to you." 
 
 " With pleasure, Madam," he rejoined, and 
 produced a printed card, with full particulars 
 of his other occupations, besides that of Clerk 
 of the church, printed upon it. 
 
 She took it from him, and placed it in a small 
 pocket-book. 
 
 "Remember," she paid, impressively, "that 
 you keep the secret. Do not mention to any 
 person, if inquiry should be made of you you 
 will mark what I say that I have been here ; 
 not even if an accurate description of my ap- 
 pearance be furnished to you. You will not 
 forget this caution, for if you should, I shall 
 euflfer by your indiscretion, as I have done, 
 and I may punish you instead of rewarding 
 you." 
 
 Without another word, eke hurried from the 
 church, leaving him alone, aghast, and utierly 
 overwhelmed. 
 
 She entered the open carriage which she had 
 hired, and proceeded to eeirch for her maid, 
 Subtle, asd on finding her near to the spot 
 where she had left her, she bade her take her 
 seat in the carriage with her. She then bade 
 the driver convey them up and down the 
 King's Road, facing the sea, until she gave him 
 freeh orders. 
 
 The afternoon was very beautiful, and the 
 King's Road was, as it usually is, thronged 
 with equestrians and carriages, though in that 
 day the mis en scene was of a somewhat differ- 
 ent character to what is to be seen at the same 
 place now. 
 
 The Countess, with her thick vail over her 
 face, leaned back ia her carriage, although she 
 scanned eagerly every face that paeeed. 
 
 For some time, she remained without mak- 
 ing a single movement, reclining as still and 
 motionless as if she were carved out of stone. 
 
 Suddenly she sat upright, threw back her 
 vail, and leaning forward, bowed low and for- 
 mally to a gentleman who was advancing tow- 
 ard her on horseback. 
 
 He raised his hat, and the next instant hia 
 placid, smiling features underwent an extraor- 
 dinary change. 
 
 It was the Earl of Brackleigh, and suddenly, 
 to his overwhelming amazement, he recognized 
 the features of the Countess. 
 
 A thought flashed through his mind that she 
 might have discovered something respecting 
 his previous marriage, he knew not whac, and 
 that she had, perhaps, been to Hove Church to 
 search the books. At this instant, a child's 
 toy- hoop rolled from the pavement beneath his 
 horse's jeet. 
 
 The animal, which had been curveting and 
 prancing, now plunged affrightedly, reared 
 and bolted. i 
 
 The Countess gave one agitated glance after 
 him, saw Nat sweep past her carriage in full 
 
HAGAR L01' 
 
 chase, and a dozen other equestrians also. She 
 compressed her lips ; her first impulse was, to 
 remain and learn what consequence might fol- 
 low from the Earl's horse having taken fnght ; 
 but, after a moment's anxious wavering, she 
 bade her coachman drive as quickly as he 
 could to the railway station. 
 
 She proceeded with her maid, Subtle, to Red 
 Hill, by the train, but eome two or three hours 
 elapsed before she could obtain a vehicle to 
 convey her to Reigate a distance of some four 
 miles. 
 
 At length, after sundown, a carriage made its 
 appearance, and entering it, she directed the 
 driver to convey her to the cottage in which 
 Floret had been placed. 
 
 As they neared it, the way being extremely 
 dark, the coachman very nearly drove over a 
 woman. He shouted at her, and she scream- 
 ed. An old man roughly dragged the woman 
 from beneath the horse's feet, and the Countess 
 heard him say, in a husky voice : 
 
 " Jamaiker '11 be the death on you some day, 
 Dianner. You'll go afore your time, as many 
 a calf does, an' vot flowvers d'ye think'U bloom 
 over your grave rum-buds, Dianner, rum- 
 buds, an' nothen puttier!" 
 
 " All-rite-ol-man-of-all!" muttered a thick 
 voice, incoherently. 
 
 The coachman drove on, and in two or three 
 minutes more the Countess aligh'ed at the cot- 
 tage in which Floret lay buried in a profound 
 and happy slumber. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 " The panic spread. 
 
 Twas but that icstant she had left * * 
 Laughing and looking back * * 
 But now, alas! the was not to be found ; 
 Nor from that hour could anything be guess'd 
 But that she was not." JROGEBS. 
 
 The Countess of Braekleigh remained at th- 
 cottage at Reigate until the middle of the fol 
 lowing day. 
 
 She believed that she knew the worst of her 
 position now, and that she had a clear concep- 
 tion of the course which she ought to pursue. 
 
 She had no doubt that, in the eye of the 
 law, she was no wife , but she saw that if she 
 could secure possession of that certificate of 
 marriage of which she had been in search, and 
 destroy it, DO person could actually disprove 
 the validity of her marriage with Bertram, be- 
 cause the documentary proofs of a former mar- 
 riage could not be forthcoming, not being in 
 existence. 
 
 That is to say, that neither she nor the Mar- 
 chioness of Weetchester, nor Bertram himself, 
 were aware that a transcript of the registers of 
 marriages throughout the United Kingdfom for 
 many years back had been made, under a com- 
 paratively-recent Act of Parliament, and that 
 this transcript was deposited at Somerse 
 Houee. 
 
 fgfThey all believed that, with the dsstruction 
 of the original certificate, all proef of the mar- 
 riage was at an end ; and they acted in accord 
 ance with tha> idea. 
 The Countess reeelved to remain the Count- 
 
 of Brackleigh until all prospect of happi- 
 ness with her pseudo husband had ceased. 
 When all hope forsook her, then she resolved 
 ;o lay her caee before her father, and be guided 
 and governed by his counsel. 
 
 In the interim, she had no intention of per- 
 mitting the Marchioness of Westchester to live 
 on in scornful disregard of her wrong, or 
 Her own guilt ; but the details of her intent to 
 keep her in a continual state of apprehension 
 she reserved for future consideration. 
 
 She had, however, one eettled idea, end that 
 was the possibility of making poor little Floret 
 the great instrument of her revenge. Alas ! 
 wrapped up in the contemplation of her own 
 inexcusable injury, absorbed by the idea of 
 some ample and complete avengement, ehe for- 
 got that the child had sensibilities and suscep- 
 tibilities, a strong development of a ^natural 
 pride, and a very acute senee of humiliation, 
 scorn, and degradation. It did cot suggest 
 iteelf to her that the success of her designs 
 might result in the destruction of that innocent 
 girl's happiness probably in a crushed, bruis- 
 ed, abrased spirit, and a broken heart. 
 
 No ; she felt that she had been hereelf griev- 
 ously abused, and she thought only of exact- 
 ing atonement by euch means as were in her 
 power. Like most persons mistakenly moved 
 by the spirit of revenge, ehe did not reflect 
 that, in the astempt to avenge an injury, she 
 would, in all probability, inflict one. 
 
 She passed an hour or two in earnest conver- 
 sation with Suean Atten. She gave her gener- 
 al directions respecting the custody, training, 
 and management of Floret. She presented her 
 with an order upon her bankers, to draw quar- 
 terly a sum for the comfortable maintenance of 
 of both, and for a " decent" education for 
 Floret, and she further gave to her a token, in 
 the form of a diamond hoop for the finger 
 the first present Bertram had made her by 
 which she could gain access to her at any time, 
 if she happened to be accessible, and she com- 
 municated to her a cipher, in which she was to 
 write to her, should a personal interview not 
 be possible. 
 
 Having done this, she returned to London, 
 and found the Earl of Brackleigh there before 
 her. 
 
 He had escaped from all injury when his 
 horee took fright, owing to Nat having success- 
 fully stopped the affrighted animal before it 
 had time to do injury to itself or its master. 
 
 He sought an interview with her immediately 
 after her arrival. He did not pause to make 
 any preliminary observations, nor await any 
 demand of an explanation of his conduct from 
 her ; but he burst into a torrent of invective, 
 with which was mingled a eeries of charges, 
 sliders, taunts, and insults, such as would 
 have driven some women insane. 
 
 The Ceuntees retained her Eelf-poeeefeion to 
 the last, hutec-ecL to him calmly, atd, when he 
 paused to take breath, she said, with a cold 
 equanimity that perfectly staggered him : 
 
 " Bertram, I know my popiiion and yours. 
 The chief of what you have dared to utter I 
 
Oil, THE FATE OF THE POOK GiEL. 
 
 meet with unqualified scorn. You know what 
 you have asserted to be falee, or you are more 
 of a natural fool than a knave. Whatever may 
 be the influence by which your present conduct 
 is instigated, I despise it. I know much of 
 your past history more than you conceive. I 
 shall yet know more. I wish I was in utter ig- 
 norance of every particle of it, and had never 
 known, seen, heard of you. But I cannot 
 change the decrees of fate; nor can you. I 
 muet accept my unhappy position, and make 
 the best of it. I shall do that I bide my 
 time; it will come. I have faith in that. 
 Until that hour, or at least for some time yet 
 to come, let me counsel you to preserve a seem- 
 ing ataity with me. It will be your wisest 
 course. You have nothing to gain by quar- 
 reling with me, but much to lose. Your con- 
 science will it should tell you that. I ask 
 of you one thing only. Questi6n me not. I 
 will not you. I shall not need !" 
 
 Sl, ceased. He was struck deeply by the 
 peculiar character of her observations. A busy 
 conscience caused him to interpret her mean- 
 ing, and to interpret it correctly. He reflected, 
 and, much as he w:s stung by her contemptu- 
 ous manner of alluding to him, he saw quickly 
 that it would be his most discreet course to pre- 
 serve a seeming friendship with her, as she in- 
 timated, for the time being. 
 
 There was, however, one subject rankling 
 in his mind ; one which had, during his ab 
 sence from London, kept him on the rack ; one 
 which was trembling on his lips, and had been 
 from the first moment of the present interview ; 
 one which had, indeed, been the inciting cause 
 of his addressing Lady Brackleigh with sucb 
 violent excitement, and had urged him to make 
 suggestions, and to give expression to insults, 
 of which he ought to have been ashamed. As- 
 suming a stern, haughty mien, he said : 
 
 " I have no objection, upon reflection, Lady 
 Brackleigh, to accede to your proposition, 
 that outwardly we should appear as friends. It 
 will be better for both that neither our serv- 
 ants, nor the world, should make us the sub- 
 ject of slanderous talk. Before I consent, 
 however, to the arrangement, there is a ques- 
 tion which I intend to put to you, and it is 
 one upon which I must be satisfied." 
 
 He paused for a moment. 
 
 " Proceed," she observed, as he hesitated ; 
 " I am prepared to receive it, and to answer it, 
 if necessary." 
 
 "It it a it has a" he returned, in a 
 slightly stammering, confused tone ; "it has a 
 a reference to that person that creature 
 that child to which your ladyship has 
 thought a proper to take such a violent 
 fancy and adopt." life 
 
 " What of that child ?" she asMB, fixing 
 upon him a searching glance. 
 
 " It is this," he rejoined, trying to speak in 
 an authoritative, dictatorial tone. " It will be 
 of no use to attempt to conceal the truth from 
 me, or to disguise facts. I ask you, and I ex- 
 pect a truthful answer from you. "Whose 
 child is it you have taken under your charge ?" 
 
 " "Whose child ?" she echoed, with amaze- 
 ment, as if she expected that he, at least,' 
 would not have asked that question of her. 
 
 " Ay r he responded, knitting hia brow, 
 and bending a savage look upon her. 
 
 Lowering his tone, he added : 
 
 " Is it yours, Lady Brackleigh?" 
 
 A crimson flush passed over her face, and 
 left her whiter than the hue of death itself j 
 Fora moment she was fearfully agitated, hei 
 eyes were suffused with burning tears, and her 
 bosom heaved and fell, and her throat swelled 
 as though it would suffocate her. 
 
 He saw with burning eyes the spasm which 
 passed over her frame, and with an emotion, 
 scarcely lees powerful than her own, he naut* 
 tered : 
 
 " Guilty, by all the fiends of hell! guilty !" 
 
 She at length conquered the bitter feelings 
 which his words had occasioned, and she said 
 to him, in slow emphatic tones, which, howev- 
 er, betrayed a slight degree of nervous tre- 
 mor 
 
 " Your question is a brutal one, and as un- 
 just as brutal. It was wrongly addressed to 
 me. You have seen the child, Lord Brack j 
 leigh it bears a face, the counterpart of one 
 well known to you. You should have put the 
 question to yourself." 
 
 As she uttered these words, almost hastily, 
 perhaps, to conceal the emotion which his un- 
 just insult had aroused, she turned upon him a 
 glance, which seemed to pierce him through, 
 for he shrunk beneath it, and she quitted the 
 room. 
 
 There was something startlingly suggestive 
 in her observation. TJae significance of her 
 look and tone assured him that she had a 
 direct and positive meaning in what she said, 
 although he failed to interpret it correctly. 
 
 He paced the chamber in deep and anxious 
 thought. He had seen, she asserted, the child, ' 
 and it bore a face the counterpart of one 
 known to him ! ,< 
 
 "Where had he seen the child ? "Whose face 
 did it resemble ? s 
 
 Kemembrances at times present themselves 
 with swift abruptness, particularly when un- 
 bidden. He, however, summoned them now, 
 and the one he sought for came, but not to in- 
 crease his ease. { 
 
 He suddenly remembered the child to which 
 the Countess had drawn his attention at Ascot 
 Races. He recollected that she had pointed 
 out to him a resemblance which it bore to the 
 Marchioness of Westchester. He had for the 
 moment, then, been startled, but now he was 
 staggered. I 
 
 He had dismissed, as preposterous, the 
 thought that the resemblance between the 
 beggar-child and Constance was other than 
 accidental. The fact that Lady Brackleigh 
 had obtained possession of it, and, with some 
 purpose in contemplation, had adopted it, 
 made him at once conceive that there was 
 more in that resemblance than he supposed. 
 "With a new and fiercely-exciting idea, burning 
 like a meteor-flame ia his brain, he determia- 
 
HAGAB LOT 
 
 d upon having an interview with the child, 
 and questioning it respecting its origin. 
 I He had a moat unpleasant impression, that 
 the Countees, by some means or another, of 
 
 j-which he could form no idea, had discovered, 
 or w.ts near the discovery of the secret, which 
 
 fhad haunted him like a fearful dusky phantom 
 
 'ever since he had married her. But surely, 
 
 Jifsbewason the verge of ascertaining that 
 his legitimate wife had given birth to a legiti- 
 mate child, he ought to be acquainted with 
 
 jthe fact as soon as she. 
 
 I He hurried to his room, and engaged Nat's 
 services to make inquiries respecting the 
 child, and to find out how he could obtain 
 
 'access to her, without the Countess becoming 
 
 aware of the fact. 
 
 Nat went about his work in his usual eneak- 
 
 'ing, lurching way, but he encountered the 
 
 'greatest difficulty in gathering any informa- 
 tion respecting the child. His once friendly 
 
 j!" sprig of lawender" was no longer friendly, 
 and he made BO way with the women-folk ; 
 
 I they did not like his look. Yet he connived 
 to ascertain that the child had recovered from 
 her illness, and had departed from the man- 
 sion, not one of the household knew whether. 
 
 He contrived, too, sorely against his inclina- 
 tion, to have a stormy interview with the 
 Countess, who, with a startling suddenness, 
 pounced u^on him when alone in an obscure 
 part of the house, where he had no business to 
 be, and whither she had followed him unob- 
 served, until it pleased her to make her pres- 
 ence known to him. 
 She terrified him out of his censes and the 
 
 ;copy of the certificate which he had obtained 
 at Brighton. She charged him with having 
 extracted and destroyed the original register, 
 and she threatened at once to denounce him, 
 give him into the custody of the police, and 
 cause him to be transported for life, if he did 
 not surrender the stolen leaf, as well as the 
 opy, to her. 
 
 \ Nat vowed and protested, with every assev- 
 eration short of foul language, that he had not 
 touched the book ; that he had asked only for 
 a copy of a certificate, and that he had obtain- 
 ed it by paving a large price for it- He swore 
 
 'with an oath which extorted a short scream 
 from the Countess, that he spoke the truth, 
 and that was all he knew about it. 
 
 Truth may be simulated, but when it is ab- 
 solutely spoken, unaccompanied by any equiv- 
 ocatien, it carries its own confirmation with it 
 to every but a perverted mind. 
 
 Nat epoke the truth, and did so so earnestly, 
 and in euch abject terror, that the Countess 
 could not but believe him. 
 
 Si Ehe contented herself by taking from him 
 the copy of the certificate which he BO prized, 
 and which he inwardly promised himself to 
 steal from her tbe first opportunity which of- 
 fered i f eelf ; by making him promise to faith- 
 fully reveal to herself the Earl's movements, 
 \ogetber with the instructions he had received 
 from him, and all that happened in conse- 
 quence thereof; and by menacing him with 
 
 every imaginable evil if he endeavored to 
 emancipate himself from her thraldom, or di* 
 cloee to any person living, to eay nothing of 
 the Earl of Brackleigh, that he was employed 
 by her, or that the ever knew of his ixLiteuce, 
 save ts a groom to tbe EarJ. 
 
 That cone, she waited to see the course 
 which tbe Earl would pursue. 
 
 She was not long kept in euspenee. 
 
 Bertram, on learning that the child, whom 
 he wished as anxiously now to see as he had 
 been to avoid, had been removed in secrecy 
 from the mansion, it was not known where, de- 
 termined to accomplish, at every hazard, an 
 interview with the Marchioness of Westchester, 
 and at that interview to challenge her with the 
 existence of a child tbe result of their mar- 
 riage. He resolved to extort from her, what- 
 ever might be the risk, the truth or falsity of 
 the euriuiie, and to endeavor to bring to a 
 cloee the wretched condition of affairs in which 
 he dragged on a discontented, unhappy life. 
 
 To his surprise and mortification, Nat, whom 
 he had set to dog her movements, brought 
 him word that the Marquis and Marchioness of 
 "Westchester had, a few days previously, quit- 
 ted England 'for a lengthened stay ; but he 
 was unable to ascertain whither they had gone. 
 But very few servants were left at the mansion, 
 and they either could not or would not answer 
 the questions he put to them. 
 
 The B*lrl engaged the services of a detective 
 officer, and in two days the mdn informed him 
 that the Marquis and the Marchioness had pro- 
 ceeded by the South Eastern Railway to Folk- 
 estone, en route to Paris. 
 
 The Earl promptly made up his mind to fol- 
 low them. He met the Countess that day at 
 dinner, treated her politely, and took an op- 
 portunity of informing her, during the dinner, 
 that his health was wretchedly broken, and 
 that he required some decided change of air ; 
 that he thought of going immediately to Swed- 
 en, or up the Nile, or St. Petersburg, or Hol- 
 land, perhaps to Niagara Falls, he had not 
 quite made up his mind whither; but te one 
 place or other he felt that he must go, and that 
 without a day's loss of time. 
 
 The Countess remarked that he did look as 
 though he was pinking under the pressure of 
 an overburdened mind, and that a change 
 would be beneficial to him. She quite agreed 
 that it would. She also assured him that, 
 whether he journeyed to any of the places 
 which he had named, whether he went to Hol- 
 land or the Island of Madeira, to Labrador 01 
 to the Somali Land, to Greenland or to China, 
 that it was her duty, as a wife, to accompany 
 him. She desired to make no allusion to her 
 own broken health, but if it were a question to 
 interfere, with her intention to accompany him, 
 she would waive that everything. Go she 
 would, and any and every argument he might 
 af tempt to advance would fail to move hep 
 from her resolution. Indeed, she begged him 
 to consider that he had exhausted every possi- 
 ble argument, and had failed to alter her de- 
 termination. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOH GIRL. 
 
 "Withersoever thou goest, thither I will go 
 too," she concluded, in a firm, determined 
 tone. *' And if I may be permitted to suggest, 
 I propose that we go to Italy. We shall there 
 meet some of the English peerage, who have 
 already gone thither. Say, shall we go to 
 Italy?' 
 
 He glared at her savagely, and set his teeth 
 together. He struck the table elightly, bu 
 sharply, with his knuckles, and said, with a pe 
 euliar tinge of ferocity in his tone : 
 
 " You shall have ?our way, Lady Brack 
 leigh. We will go to Italy." 
 
 At the expiration of two days, they quitted 
 London for Paris, Nat only accompanying his 
 lordship, and the maid Subtle the Countess. 
 
 While they were spending their way to the 
 gay capital of France, Floret was gathering 
 health and strength at Reigate, and gathering 
 it, too, with a kind of marvelous rapidity. 
 She promised to be stronger, healthier, and 
 sprig htlier than she had ever beopa in her life 
 before. 
 
 Erery day she accompanied Susan and 
 Hatty in long walks, made mostly in the vi- 
 cinity of Red Hill ; for, twice or thrice, Susan 
 had observed gipsies moving stealthily about 
 on the undulating furze crested moor which 
 ikirted the Dorking road. They rambled over 
 the beautiful and picturesque common at 
 Earlswood, charmed with the prospect, in love 
 with the wild flowers which grow there luxur- 
 iously in the light sandy soil, and amusing 
 themselves by gathering the many-hued 
 sands, which are to be found in the whole 
 neighborhood, with the purpose of forming 
 them, by means of glass receptacles, into 
 humble but pretty ornaments for" the table or 
 chimney-piece. 
 
 At times they ascended the steep hill above 
 Seigate, crossed the frail suspension bridge, 
 and then, wandering through the leafy, sinu- 
 ous plantation beyond, sparking and spangled 
 with myriads of buds and blossoms, they 
 emerged upon one of the finest views in the 
 world. 
 
 Ha'ty, who was something of a botanist, and 
 a very fair geographist, improved the occa- 
 sion by expanding Floret's mind. She gave 
 to her the names of the trees by which they 
 were surrounded, and most of the plants and 
 flowers ; explained the structure, and gave her 
 an idea of their classification. She also point- 
 ed out the various counties which are to be 
 eeen from the chain of hills, upon one of which 
 they stood, and made it serve as the subject of 
 a lecture, which deeply interested Floret, who 
 gazed upon the magnificent panorama spread 
 before her, and listened with avidity to every 
 word that fell from Hatty lips. 
 
 One evening, just after they had taken their 
 tea, they were tempted by the cloudless SKJ 
 and the balmy breeze, which blew softly and 
 sweetly, fragrance laden, in at their open win 
 dow, to take a stroll, as on that day they had 
 not been beyond the town. 
 
 They proceeded to the park, passed the seat 
 of Lord Soraers, and following a romantic 
 
 winding path, gained, by a gradual aectnt, the 
 top of a hill which commands a crmrining 
 prospect, and here they seated themselves t 
 enjoy it. 
 
 Floret, however, soon busied herself in 
 gathering wild flowers among the undergrowth 
 which prevails here, and at the foot of many a 
 tall and fine tree which for centuries has 
 shaded the spot on which it stands. 
 
 Hatty and Susan were soon engaged in con- 
 versation, for the state of the exchequer 
 of the latter informed her that she must 
 return to London, and take up her har- 
 rassing occupation in order to obtain the few 
 shillings upon which ehe was forced to exist. 
 She was occupied in arranging a future cor- 
 respondence between herself and Susan, and 
 ehe promised promptly to forward to the lat-- 
 ter any letter which might arrive from Cana- 
 da addressed to her. 
 
 How long they had been thus engaged they! 
 did not know ; but they rose up, for the rapid- 
 ly-declining sun admonished them to make 
 their way back to their cottage. 
 
 .They looked for Floret, but she was not 
 visible. 
 
 They; called to her, but she did not answer. 
 They ran to and fro in search of her, but 
 were unable to find her. 
 
 At first they both thought she was playing 
 at hide-and-seek with them, and Susan cried 
 out loudly to her, entreating her to appear, and 
 not to terrify them; but there was no re-i 
 sponse, save a species of mocking echo of her 
 own voice. 
 
 Hatty Ecreamed loudly, for she grew fright-' 
 ened. Susan shrieked, too, for an instinctive 1 
 presentiment of evil seized upon her. , 
 
 They both ran wildly to and fro, hunting 
 breathlessly among the gorse bushes, in the 
 hollows, in every place where she could hide,* 
 be secreted, or have fallen, but in vain, for' 
 there was no trace of her. 
 
 Hatty, at her own suggestion, ran toward 
 the town for assistance, while Susan distract- 1 
 edly continued her search. 
 
 Men returned with Hatty, men wio were 
 well acquainted withe every foot of ground,' 
 and they aided in the search. They kept it up 
 until dawn, going over a circuit of many miles,' 
 but without succees. j 
 
 Susan, exhausted and delirious, was convey-' 
 ed, by the directions of Hatty, who was her 
 self in a fainting condition, ^to the cottage 
 which they had quitted the 'evening before 
 with such placid contentment, and there laid 
 upon a bed from which it was long ere she 
 arose. j 
 
 Hatty, however, remained with her, and re-! 
 gardless of her own future, played the pait of 
 a true and and disinterested friend, until So-j 
 san recovered health and strength enough to 
 move about and act for herself. 
 
 Floret, who was the cause of all this sorrow 
 and sickness, was deeply engaged in collect- 
 ng flowers and arranging them into a beauti-' 
 *ul bouquet, with a skill and aptness which 
 showed that she had lost none of toe art which 
 
HAGAII LOT ; 
 
 Bfie bad been compelled to exerciae from almost 
 infancy. 
 
 " It is not BO pretty a nosegay as I could 
 wish," she murmured to herself, as she sat 
 tinder a huge cluster of underwood, which was 
 adorned at its roots with many simple and 
 beautiful flowers. " But yet, if Victor were 
 here, I would give it to him, aad tell bim that 
 I would have made it much prettier if I could. 
 Victor is such a pretty name : V I C T R 
 Victor, Lord Victor ; how grand and beau- 
 tiful it sounds. Ah ! I am now sure he did not 
 mean to acorn me when he gave me that 
 money. I am eure that he did not and when 
 I see him again, I shall eay to him" 
 [ " Sixteen bunches a-penntfe, sweet lavenders 
 sixteen bunches a-pennee," whispered a 
 i voice, cloee in her ear. 
 
 I A terrified shriek burst from her lips, but it 
 was suppressed by some heavy material which 
 was flung over her, and in which she was 
 ,wrapped closely. She felt herself lifted from 
 the ground and borne away, then her senses 
 forsook her. 
 
 } When consciousness was restored to her, she 
 found herself by a fire, in a closely- wooded 
 plantation ; two or three gipsies, with swarthy 
 faces and glittering eyes, were lying about, 
 close at hand, watching her. Before her, grin- 
 Ding like an ancient and bloated hyena, was 
 the Grannam. A pair of arms were round her 
 tightly, but not so as to hurt, and a voice was 
 whispering in her ear. 
 
 It was that of Daddy Windy. 
 
 " My Vite Rose my Vite Ecse, my own 
 Vild Vite Rose. Open its wi'let eyes, and say 
 putty things to its own Daddy its own Daddy, 
 who's as pleased to 'ave it back again vith him 
 as if he'd got in hia 'ands twice the fortin' it's 
 goin' to earn for 'im." 
 
 1 For a minute, Floret listened to his words. 
 All the while she stared as if she was in a 
 dream. 
 
 ' Then she uttered one kng, wild, quivering 
 shriek, which pierced the brains of those who 
 heard it, made the recumbent men spring on 
 to their bands and knees, the Grannam to half 
 rise up, the Daddy to mutter something very 
 rapidly, and to place his hand over her mouth. 
 
 " Hush, my lily-bloom," he whispered, ex 
 'citedly; "hush! listen to reason, vite star 
 'droy listen to Daddy, silver blossom. There 
 'ain't no perlice near for many a mile ; there 
 iain't no nothn to heer you, accept the howl or 
 'the rooks in their nestes atop o' the tall ellums 
 [ so don't go to try an' spile your bootiful 
 jvoice, vich is sveeter than the dripping o' 
 jvater in a still lake, or the moosic o' the sum- 
 *mer breeze as chaBts through leaves and flow- 
 vers in the voodlands, or the chink o' two new 
 'suv'rins a knockin' themselves together for joy 
 in Daddy's pocket, acoe they knows they 
 i brings delight to the 'art of a poor old cripple 
 like Daddy. Don't be afeard, Vite Rose, ould 
 Daddy loves 'is vte silver bell too veil toe 
 veil to 'arm her. No, he'd sooner cut hieself 
 'off his own stalk than 'urt an 'air o' the putty 
 the flowverof 'is 'eart" 
 
 But he spoke to a heedless car. Floret 
 when she screamed so frantically and so af- 
 frightedly, had tossed up her arms wildly, and 
 had struggled sharply for a moment ; but 
 they now lay listlessly by her side. She had 
 Telapsed into a state of insensibility again. 
 
 The Grannam saw this, and she whispered! 
 tf> him : 
 
 " She is gone back into a swoon lay her 
 
 on the bed in the tent, that'll be the best 
 
 thing for 'er. I'll vatch her, an' ven she comes 
 
 to, most like she'll drop into a plessint sleep 
 
 that vill be best for all on us. Ven ( she vakes 
 
 I up, you can talk to her ag'in, old man of all, 
 
 j like a far-tber, an' she'll listen to reason, I'll 
 
 swear, an' if she don't " 
 
 " You von't 'ave occasion to tell me vot'll 
 be the best thing to do," interrupted the Dad- 
 ! dy, in a peculiarly significant tone. "Vich I 
 shall 'ave my own vay vith the Vhite Rose. 
 ; Don't you perwoke me, Dianner, I say, don't 
 'you perwoke me. I'm werry mild by natur', 
 but a tiger gets out o' temper sometimes. 1 
 knows vot to do vith the Vhite Rose." 
 
 He rose up gradually as he spoke, and lifted 
 Floret with him ; he tottered to the semi-cir- 
 cular tent, whicu, was pitched upon a dry 
 spot close at hand, and laid her carefully with-, 
 in it. 
 
 He let the curtains drop gently before the 
 entrance, and then toddled slowly back to the 
 fire. Seating himself down by it, he drew ont 
 his pipe, and lighting it, commenced to smoke, 
 while lie gazed at the burning embers thought- 
 fully. 
 
 Suddenly, a hand was placed upon Ins shoul- 
 der ; he raised his eyes, and beheld, bending 
 over him, the beautiful but stern and melan- 
 choly face of Hagar Lot. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 'Now rent 
 
 His brackish curls and tore his wrinkled face, 
 Where tears in billows did each otLer chase ; 
 And, burst with ruth, he hurled his marble mace 
 
 At the stern Fates * * * 
 
 ******* 
 
 thievish Fates to let' 
 
 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 
 
 The attitude of Daddy Windy the moment 
 previous to the appearance of Hagar Lot was 
 one of perfect repose and complacency. As 
 he gazed at the sputtering, ecintillant burning 
 t*igs and branches, which made a fire that 
 looked cheerful in that dark and lonely place, 
 he did so with the aspect of a man who, hav- 
 ing been long engaged in pursuing some ob- 
 ject of considerable importance to his pecuni- 
 ary interests, has succeeded in accomplishing 
 it, and gives himself up to quiet, agreeable, 
 satisfactory, and self-gratulatory reflections. 
 
 The visions which began to float before his 
 smiling, winking eyes, clothed in the sanguine 
 radiance of confident hopes, were rudely dis- 
 pelled by the sudden and unexpected appari- 
 tion of Hagar Lot. 
 
 The eight of her made every drop of blood 
 jU the Daddy's veins hurry back to his heart. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 He Mt as if, laving had a puree of goM in his 
 pocket, he had just discovered its loss through 
 an uncalculated hole in the latter. 
 
 A silent conviction stole over him that Ha- 
 gar had come to claim the White Rose, and 
 to take her from him. He mentally register- 
 ed a fearfal oath that she should not have her, 
 if he could prevent her, and he thought he 
 knew how to do that even if he murdered 
 her. 
 
 He looked up at her, grinned, and wicked 
 at her with both eyes. 
 
 " Vy, H*gar, my dark dahlia, is it you? 
 aha ! aha! Who'd a thought a seein' on you 
 jesfc now ; I'm sure I didn't." 
 
 He roae up irom his recumbent position, 
 and extended both hands to her. 
 
 She did not touch them. 
 
 " You were thinking of me," she said, coldly. 
 " Lo, I am here!" 
 
 A thought of her certainly had crossed tis 
 mind while he was contemplating the future 
 which. Floret would probably make for him. 
 It was but a momentary conceit, because it 
 was she who had intrusted at the outset Floret 
 to his chargei It flitted away as rapidly as it 
 appeared but as it went he felt the procure of 
 Hagar'a hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, and his face 
 turned a very sickly, death-like yellow. 
 
 " Veil, I vos, my sloe-blossom," he returned, 
 hesitatingly. ' Talk of the infernal party, 
 they see, an' you sees yon o' the family ! Now, 
 my dark pearl, I" 
 
 " You thought of me," she interrupted, " in 
 connection with another. You need not hesi- 
 tate I know it. It ia of "her I am here to 
 speak with you." 
 
 She turned to the gipsies, and to the Gran- 
 nam, ani pointing to the opposite direction to 
 that in wuich the tent had been erected, she 
 said, in a commanding voice : 
 
 ' Go, s 11 of yeu, down the path yonder. I 
 must have some secret talk with the Daddy. 
 Watch, too, well, for danger to all of you men- 
 aces from that quarter." 
 
 The men obeyed readily, but the Grannam 
 uttered a protest. She was unable to see the 
 propriety of leaving a snug fireside for a cold 
 aud damp position, in a gloomy spot. 
 
 Hflgar, however, introduced her to the ne- 
 cessity of obeying. 
 
 " Go !" she exclaimed, stamping her foot. 
 " Go !" she repeated, and placing her face 
 near to the Grannam's, she said, in a low, 
 stern tone : " Obey me, or you may not ap- 
 prove of the flavor of your drink when next 
 you tiste it." 
 
 The Grannam shuddered and rolled away 
 With ea quick a step as she could manage. 
 
 " Hagar's a norful woman," she soliloquized ; 
 "I aUus said eo." 
 
 When they were left aloae, Hagar turned to 
 the Daddy, and said : 
 
 " You guees you know why I am here ?'' 
 
 The Daddy ran his fingers through his 
 Bbiny, g'izzly locks, and muttered : 
 
 "It ain't fcD refresh your eyesight with a 
 
 look at my picter, I s'pose ; nor it ain't to p*y 
 me the trifle as you promised me ven I first 
 took the Vite Roae under my perental viog ; 
 nor it ain't to tell my fortin' by the stars, if I 
 vos to cross your palm vith a silver piece. 
 No, my pupple night-bloom, it ain't no use 
 my guessing. I did not know that I should be 
 'ere in this saloobrous plantation a readin' the 
 stars this blessed night, SD I couldn't werry 
 veil espect the pleasure o' seein' your 'ansom 
 countynouse 'ere, an', o' course, I don't pre- 
 tend to know vy you are 'ere, or vot you are 
 'ere for." 
 
 *' I will tell you," she rejoined, emphatically. 
 " The White Rose." 
 
 He turned his face rather sharply to her, 
 and put his hands behind his back. 
 
 " O yes," he exclaimed, speaking quickly, 
 " ve all on us come out for suthen, an' some on 
 us come out raythsr etrong. You've come out 
 for the Vite Rose, Hagar, 'ave you?" 
 
 "I have. I shall take her away with me to- 
 night," returned she, with a firm, resolute tone. 
 
 " Yes," he replied with a savage grin ; 
 " yes, a 'ooman is mighty fond of her own 
 vay. You 'ave come out rayther strong, Ha- 
 gar rayther strong, I must say ; but I'm 
 afeard you vill go agen vith a veaker crett 
 than you left 'ome vith. Don't you know 
 the Vite Rose was stole away from me, Hagar, 
 last Arscot Cup day ?" 
 
 " I do, and I know who took her from you. 
 I was at your side when it occurred, though 
 you Bbw me not," she rejoined. "Since your 
 release from prison, you have not moved a 
 step without my knowledge. I know that you 
 have been tracking the White Rose to her 
 parterre ; I know that yon this -evening seized 
 her while she was gathering some flowers. 
 You have brought her here. She ii in yonder 
 tent." 
 
 " Very veil, blooming nightshade," he re- 
 sponded, slowly, with trembling jaws ; " very 
 veil, I've 'eered many vider guesses at facts 
 than those 'ere. But, suppose all you hev 
 said is werry true, vot then, Hagar, my ivy 
 plant, vot then ?" 
 
 " I am here to claim her," she responded, in 
 decided tones. 
 
 " Vich I don't dispute, my Star- o'- toe-night," 
 he rejoined. " I know'd a man vonce, who gev 
 a small an' rayther putty -looking pup to anoth- 
 er: 'There,' ees he, 'you can keep that, 5 ees 
 he, 'an' bring it up as your own,' ses he. 
 ' Some day, ven the blue moon's at the full, a 
 party may claim it it may be on the third 
 Susday in the veek, vich never comes.' Ha- 
 gar, my dark-eyed passion-flower, the blue 
 moon ain't yet in its fust kevaw.^er ; the fust 
 Sunday in the veek has on'y just turned, and 
 never is eich a werry long day, it ain't turned 
 up yet. Do you understand me, Flower of the 
 Dark Hemlock?" 
 
 She looked at him sternly, and frowned. 
 
 " That you refuse to part with the White 
 Rose ? Yes," ehe answered. " Have you re- 
 flected ? Has the asge night-owl changed to a 
 mouthing rook?" 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 "The owl is a vise thing, Hagar," he re- 
 sponded, quickly ; " but the rook id a cunning 
 bird, too. Vich hever you takes me to be, I 
 eaii part vith the Vite Rose no^ more never no 
 more." He clenched his hands, he set hie teeth 
 together. " Never no, more," he repeated. 
 \ ** I placed hef in your keeping for a time 
 only," she rejoined, sternly. " You were paid 
 to keep her for a certain period, and that has 
 now terminated. Yon would have had the s'i- 
 pend which I promised to you paid regularly ; 
 but you, in your cunning, sought to keep ou 1 ; 
 of my path to avoid me to make a profit 
 out of the beauty of the White Rose, which 
 you fancied I should expect to share, but which 
 you resolved to keep entirely to yourself. 
 Your wanderings, your movements were never 
 unknown to me. I could any moment, at will, 
 have appeared before you, and have taken her 
 from you ; but the time had not come. It has 
 arrived now. I take her from you this night ; 
 but I bid you beware how you attempt to fol- 
 low or seek again to get her into your power, 
 as you have done a few hours back. Your con- 
 nection with her, from this hour, has ceased 
 forever." 
 
 "I don't see it,' 1 interposed the Daddy, 
 
 Suickly ; " my eyesight ain't quite so sharp as 
 ; vp3, certain'y, an' I don't see vot you've 
 been pointin' out to me. But, Hagar, 'ooman," 
 he added, changing his voice to a growl, " I 
 don't p irt vith the Vite Rose : she's the happle 
 o' my hi she's my beat tooth she's the last 
 pulee o' my 'art the last blood-drop in my 
 weins the last sigh out o' my body* I parts 
 vith her ven I parts vith them, an' not before. 
 Leastvays, I do not part with her until that 
 werry, werry large heap o' goold vich those 
 who can pay me liberaMy you remember your 
 own vords, star o' the dark copse puts down 
 afore me, saying to me : Ve are dukes an' 
 princess ; you are a poor old Daddy you takes 
 the goold an' ve the Vite Rose.' Do you un- 
 derstand me yet, pearl of our tribe ?" 
 
 " You have more to say," she answered, in a 
 gloomy, determined tone. " Say all that is 
 lurking in your mind, and then hear my last 
 words." 
 
 'Then, Hagar, 'ooman, the star vich peeped 
 out in the eky ven I vos brought into the vorld, 
 beneath the dew-dripping leaves of briars and 
 thorns, in the depths of a hold, hold 'ood, is 
 growin' paler an' fainter every day, an' night, 
 an' hour. I mayn't per'aps number as many 
 more months as I 'ave years ; an' therefore, 
 life is werry sweet to me. " I knows you 'ave 
 a death-^ealin' power ; but eo 'ave I, 'ooman 
 BO 'ave I, flowverin' henbane ! an' if you say 
 von other vord to me, on'y von other vord 1 ' 
 he drew a clasp-knife from his pocket, and 
 opeEed it'- 1 vill spring like a vild cat into 
 yonder tent, an' send the Vite Rose to the wal- 
 ley o' B ladders : that's I think, about all I 'ave 
 to say, H^gar." " It is tcough," 8he saicl, as 
 hs ce ieed, " enough to make me laugh at, and 
 to sec rm you; to" 
 
 She paused ; for a night-bird abruptly sent 
 forlh * shrill, trembling, plaintive cry. 
 
 She listened eagerly, until the sound died 
 away, and then she proceeded 
 
 ' To wonder and marvel at you. Yeu know 
 that you cannot brave my power you feel 
 that, and tremble! The few wretched years 
 you have to live can be but little brightened 
 and gilded, though a mound of wealth were 
 given you to surrender the White Rose, and they 
 may be darkened, blighted by your obstinacy. I 
 have told you that I claim the White Rose, and 
 that from thia moment your title to touch her 
 even has ceased. Shut up your knife, old man. 
 I could lay you a blackened, ewolleo, putrid 
 corse upon the turf, ere you could advance 
 three feet toward the tent ! But I am not here 
 to do deeds of violence, or to urge you to at- 
 tempt to commit a crime which would be fatal 
 to you. I could call upon the men of our 
 tribe, who have aided you, and who have just 
 lefi this copse, to carry away the Wnite Rose 
 whithersoever I directed them " 
 
 "Over my dead body !" growled the Daddy, 
 champing his words iu'his excitement. 
 
 " What, then, if I willed that sbe should go?" 
 rejoined Hagar. "I csuld summon others of 
 f:ie tribe, who would pin you %> the ground 
 like a' mole, if you attempted to interfere with 
 my assumption of my right to resume my cus- 
 tody of the White Rose ; but I have oSher 
 end* than to quarrel with you, old man " 
 
 * l I'm a nettle I am," interposed the Daddy, 
 with a savage grin ; " not a budding plant, but 
 a fu fi. grown, prickly, stinging, blistering nettle 
 an' mind how you touch me !" 
 
 " N"ett'ies are harmless, when seized with a 
 firm grip," returned Hjgar. " You might 
 have chosen a more apt illustration. I am a 
 poisoned thorn, which, once in your flesh, can- 
 not be extracted, and will swely drag you to 
 your doom, if you oppose me. Still, as I have 
 said, I have ends to serve which will render a 
 quarrel wi^h you an error a serious fault. I 
 may hereafter need you as a witness ; I would 
 not have you play the part of unwilling one, 
 I therefore leave you to-night to reflect over 
 what I have said. You must surrender the 
 White Rose to me" 
 
 " Immedjetlee a'ter you hev tumbled me on 
 to the turf a blackened, svolleo, pootrid corpse, 
 as you hev 'andsomely promissed to do," he 
 interrupted. "But not afore, my dark-eyed 
 blossom not afore ?" 
 
 " Be it so," she returned, flinging her cloak 
 over her mouth and shoulders ; " further par- 
 ley with you is useless." 
 
 " Werry useless, if you 'opes to parky ine 
 out o' the Vite Rose 1" he exclaimed. 
 
 "You will wish, when the dawn comes, that 
 you had consented to my demand," replied 
 Hagar, with a strangely meaning smile. 
 * Farewell ! we shall meet when I have need of 
 your services, not when your heart's bursting 
 to find me." 
 
 She glided into the darkness, which covered 
 the space a few feet beyond them, and in an 
 instant, almost, he lost the sound of her foot- 
 steps. 
 
 He nodded MB head and winked both eyes ; 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 23 
 
 he wagged hia jaws with a savage grin ; he 
 looked with a ferecious leer, and then he crept 
 stealthily to the tent. 
 
 During hia colloquy with Hftgftr, the fire 
 had nearly burnt itself out, and hia eyes, keen 
 aa they were, were not able to penetrate the 
 darknesa beneath the tent, but he placed hia 
 hand inside and felt a raotionlesa form ita 
 hand and arm were warm, and so waa ita face. 
 
 It moved aa he passed hia hand over ita vel- 
 vet cheek, and elightly moaned. 
 
 " Ho-o-sh ho o-sh I" he hissed between hia 
 lips; "hoosh-a-by, baby, on the -tree-tcp! 
 Hoosh, my pooty vite doe hoosh I Sleep till 
 dawn, chuck sleep till dawn, an' ve'll be over 
 the 'ilia an' far avay, an' chase the 'ours nvay 
 like butterflies in a garding full o' flowvers 
 hoosh !" 
 
 The child became still, and he listened 
 anxiously to her breathing. Presently he mut- 
 tered 
 
 " It's all right ; she sleeps comfortably. I 
 shall be werry eorry ven the dawn comes, 
 shall I ? I shall viah I'd druv her avay, shall 
 I ? Partner, you didn't think that o' me, did 
 yer ? You didn't think me quite such a hold, 
 anshent Je-roosalem aa that, pardner, did 
 yer f " 
 
 With that he chuckled, and then he whistled 
 a lengthened, but not loud note. 
 
 It was responded to by the re-appearance"of 
 the gipsies, who had retired, and the Grannara. 
 
 The Daddy pointed to the fire, and said, in 
 a low, but sharp tone : 
 
 '* Make up that 'ere into a bright, crackling 
 blaze, for I'm werry chilly I'm werry cold 
 I've been in a snow -storm, I 'ave. An' look'ee 
 here, you boye an' specially you, O, my 
 Dianner I'am goin* to lay down in front of 
 the tent, verein is slumbering the Vite Rose, as 
 'appy as a cat in a lady's maff. In my 'and 
 vill be thia ere knife, open, and ready for ioi- 
 medjet use. Ib has pison on the pint pison 
 that kills vith EO cure. Now, me and my 
 pardner 'specs that, in the dead 'our, just afore 
 the birds vtxkea up and viatles their pooty 
 mooeick, eombody vill drop in 'ere on the 
 sneak, and try to steal my Vite Rose from me ; 
 but if I am caught napping, pardner '11 'ave 
 Ton eye hoppen, an', aa vot he dooa I doos, 
 veil together be the death o' that ere some- 
 body if they tries it on. The Vite Rose ia 
 mine. I don't part vith her, unless I makes a 
 present o' my ghost to the party aa gets her 
 avay. But vot I vant all on yeu to under- 
 stand is, that you mustn't valk about this little 
 spot In your sleep, nor in your vaking. You 
 might come lumbering agin me, kick my shins, 
 or drop your 'ob nails on my 'and ; in that 
 'ere case, I and my pardner might fancy as 
 somebody had dropped in on the prowl a'ter 
 the Vite Rose. Ifve does make a mistake, it 
 von't be our fault, but yourn ; an' the Lord 
 'elp you if you do. You von't get over it. 
 That's all. 
 
 He flung himself down upon the turf in 
 front of the tent, so that no one could approach 
 it without his knowledge or sanction. He 
 
 placed his hand once more inside the tent, to 
 assure himself that Floret waa still inside, and 
 then he reclined hia shoulder against ic, and 
 went on smoking hia pipe, plunged in a fit of 
 abstraction. | 
 
 He continued awake for a long time, but he 
 glided off into a heavy eleep while he thought 
 he was still awake. His pipe dropped from 
 hia hand as he believed himself to be upon a 
 race- course with Floret, who, he thought, was 
 in his sight, but separated frooi him by knots 
 of people. And he fancied he had lost the 
 basket of flowers with whieb, he supplied Flo- 
 ret as fast as she sold those she had had for 
 sale. And he imagined that the Gr*Dnaru had 
 got his hat, and coat, and boots, and stock- 
 ings, and waa nowhere to be seen, a&d he was, 
 in fact, in great trouble. 
 
 He awoko suddenly, and, to hia relief, he 
 found it was a dream. 
 
 But he found, also, that he was surrounded 
 by a party of his tribe men, women, and 
 children numbering at least thirty. 
 
 They stood silently in a circle round him, 
 and awaited hia awakening. 
 
 He still held, clenched in his hand, the 
 knife with the poisoned point, ready for instant 
 use. 
 
 Tbe Grannam had communicated to them 
 the Daddy's last injunctions before he retired 
 to sleep. None of them fait equal to belling 
 tbe cat, by placitg their hands upon hia 
 shoulder, to awaken him, so they waited until 
 consciousness should unseal his ejea. 
 
 Aa soon as he became aware of the pres- 
 ence of so large a number of his people, Le 
 scrambled up, and wanted to know what it all 
 meant. 
 
 Then a woman stepped forward, and said to 
 him : 
 
 " I want my little white thorn, Ezar ?" 
 
 " Do yer ? ' he responded, with, an inquiring 
 stare; "do yerra'ally? You can't 'ave her. 
 I 'ave never seed her I 'ave cover heerd on 
 her before. I don't kno w vere she ia but you 
 can 'ave her." 
 
 " Hagar Lot begged her from me last night 
 to bring to you," responded the woman who 
 had spoken. " She said that; she was a wild 
 white rose, whom you would like to rear ; that 
 you would be very fond of it, more kind and 
 tender than a grand'ther to it ; that you would 
 nurture it, and tend it till it became a beauti- 
 ful flower ; and that then you would, perhaps, 
 make it a house-dweller, with the means to live 
 like a lady, instead of as a wanderer. But 
 Micah, her father, will not part with her ; so 
 we are here to claim her back." 
 
 "I won't part wi' my hawthorn-blossom for 
 non't," exclaimed a stern, dogged-looking 
 young man, with black hair, brown face, amd 
 fierce-looking black eyes. " She wur born ia 
 the free air, to live a free life ; she shall be no 
 house dweller. Gipsy bred, gipsy dead. So, 
 old man, give me back Ezar, our lidla white- 
 thorn blossom." 
 
 The changes which went over the face of 
 Daddy Windy, while both the woman and the 
 
IIAGAR LOT ; 
 
 man were speaking, were something awful 
 to witness. He glanced from one to an- 
 other, and listened like ono in eome frightful 
 dream. 
 
 I Suddenly, with a wild, frantic screech, he 
 dashed at the tent, and dragged forth its ten- 
 ant bv the arms. 
 
 I It was a child, dressed in. a very homely 
 garb. 
 
 r He held it tightly by the shoulders, TIB, 
 kneeling down, he glared in its face. 
 
 lie looked upon the brown face and deep 
 blue eyes of an unmistakable young female 
 gipey child, though she Lai long, yellow, san- 
 dy locks. 
 
 He uttered a howl of despair, as he flung her 
 from him iuto the burning embers, from which 
 she was rescued by her mother, her father 
 making a gesture as if he would rush upon the 
 Daddy and strangle him. 
 
 He was, however, restrained by those wfco 
 were s near him, and who looked with woncer 
 and awe upon the proceedings of the Daddy. 
 
 Howling like a maniac, he crawled into the 
 tent, and tossed over its contents, in vaiu 
 search for Floret. She was not there. 
 
 She had disappeared, and net a trace of her 
 was left behind. 
 
 He pressed his hands upon his temples his 
 eyes, his throat ; and then, with a demoniacal, 
 guttural growl, brandishing his knife in the 
 air, he dashed off in the direction which hero- 
 inembered Hagar to have taken the night pre- 
 viously. 
 
 Grannam, with husky tones, hastily in- 
 structed those gipsies who belonged to their 
 party, to strike their tent, and follow as soon 
 as they could. 
 
 " He will do Hagar a mischief," she cried ; 
 " he will kill her." 
 
 " He will bring upon him the curse and the 
 ban of the tribe, if he do," exclaimed an old, 
 elf- locked woman in the group. " The turned 
 face, tb,e back of the hand, the sole of the foot, 
 A long rope, a stout branch, and no mercy for 
 him if he do." 
 
 "Follow, follow," cried the Grannam, wring- 
 ing nor hands. " Hagar's a norful woman, 
 but he's anorfuller man. Hi! hi! hi! Old 
 man of all, stop ! stay ! Let me speak to you ! 
 Hi! old man of ail! stay for Dianner! 0! 
 0! CM" 
 
 She darted off after the Daddy, followed by 
 B^me of the nimblest of the men, while a few 
 remained behind to pack up their traps, and 
 bring up the rear. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Poor little thing ! She was as fair as docile, 
 
 And with that gentle, serious character, 
 As rare in living bsia^s as a fossil 
 Man, 'midst thy mouldy Mammoths, ' grand Cu- 
 
 yier!" 
 Ill-fitted, with her ignorance, to Jostle 
 
 Wiih this o'erwhelmlng world, where all must err : 
 But she was yet but ten y ears old, and therefore 
 "Was tranquil, though she knew uot why or wherefore." 
 
 BYROIT. 
 
 Floret had been placed by Daddy "Windy 
 scarcely a minute within the gipsy tent, when 
 
 the col 3 night air, which stole in at the en- 
 trance, revived her. 
 
 Sail in a delicate state of health when seized 
 and made prisoner so abruptly by the Daddy, 
 she, fiom mere physical weakness, fainted with 
 flight, on finding heraelf once more in the grip 
 of Mm whom ehe feared more than all other 
 men. "While borne to the spot in which he, 
 with such Eeemicg tenderness, had deposited 
 her, she had undergone a succession of swoons, 
 occasioned *by the panic which bad seized her 
 acting upon a mind greatly weakened by her 
 severe attack of iilnees. Each time bhe had 
 opened her eyes, ehe had seen the Daddy's 
 wrinkled, brass-colored countenance close to 
 her own, grinning with a hideously-gleeful sat- 
 iafaclion, and the spectacle was too much for 
 her nerves : she therefore Lad relapsed on be- 
 holding it, smitten with a mortal terror into a 
 state of insensibility. 
 
 She had recently experienced enough of the 
 comforts of civilized existence to make her 
 look forward to a return to a nomad life with 
 horror, and ifc was this loathing horror, which 
 paralyzed her. 
 
 On opening her eyes in the tent, she found 
 herself in darkness and in silence, conscious 
 only of a peculiar aromatic perfume which 
 played about her nostrils, and which caused a 
 strange feeling of irresistible drowsy languor 
 to steal over her. 
 
 And presently she seemed to be in a won- 
 drous land of flowers and sunshine, with love- 
 ly lakes and streams, reposing placidly, or 
 wandering and winding as far as the eje could 
 reach, parterres of many rich-hut d blossoms 
 spread on either side of her, terrace above ter- 
 race, and trees of ample foliage and graceful 
 form were clustered in groups, or formed shad- 
 owy avenues in various directions. It was an 
 Eljsian garden, as exquisite in loveliness ag 
 that land of Eden in which our progenitors 
 wandered when the tree of knowledge bore un- 
 tast id fruit. 
 
 Gradually, however, this " undefiled para- 
 dise faded from her eyes, and she became sen- 
 sible that she was reclining upon the seat of a 
 carriage, swathed, as it were, in shawls and 
 other warm covering. 
 
 Opposite to her, with her head leaning 
 against the cushioned side of the vehicle, eat a 
 female, enveloped ia a cloak, and her head and 
 face nearly wholly ccncaaled by its hood. 
 
 The swajing and jolting of the vehicle told 
 her that she was being borne along at consid- 
 erable Bpeed. She cast her eyes out of the 
 glass window. She could tell that it was the 
 after part of the day by the position of the 
 sun ; but the fields and hills she saw stretching 
 far away were new and strange to her. She 
 could not recognize them, though she atrove 
 to do so. 
 
 She turned her eyes upon the mysteriotta 
 figure in the blood-red cloak, who sat opposite 
 to her, motionless. A slight shudder went 
 through her frame. She could not imagine 
 who the person thus strangely enveloped could 
 be. 
 
OB, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 It was not Mamma Atten it was not Hatty 
 Marr ; she could see that. 
 
 She racked her brain, and tried to recollect 
 lorn parson whom she resembled, bnt in vain. 
 
 The only being upon whom her mind showed 
 any disposition to settle was the Countess of 
 Brackleigh, who had, by the way, instructed 
 both Suaan and Hatty to keep her name stu- 
 diously concealed from Floret, and whom she 
 therefore only knew by the appellation of " the 
 lady". 
 
 It was some few minutes before Floret could 
 realize her situation. She at length remem- 
 bered, piece-meal, that, while gathering flow- 
 ers, she had been seized and carried off by the 
 Daddy. 
 
 Her heart sank within her. Could it be the 
 Daddy who sat before her, hidden by that ter- 
 rible crimson cloak ? 
 
 An involuntary cry of fear escaped her lips. 
 
 Immediately, she became conscious that a 
 pair of large; dark, lustrous eyes, peering from 
 beneath the hood of the cloak, were fastened 
 upon her own. 
 
 Then the hood was thrown back, and a dark- 
 skinned face, of handsome proportion, wss pre- 
 sented to her. She knew it not. Ifc was not 
 " the lady" who gazed upon her : it was one 
 Who regarded her with a stern, searching look 
 of inquiry, and with an expreseion of con- 
 temptuous pity, which, faint and weak as she 
 felt herself to be, made the rebel blood in her 
 yeins in an, instant bubble and boil. 
 
 The strange woman did not speak, and Floret, 
 unable to bear in silence the painful mystery 
 of her situation, presently said, in a complain- 
 ing tone : 
 
 " Where am I going? Whither are you tak- 
 ing me ?" 
 
 '* To one who will be your future guardian," 
 slow]y returned her companron, who, as may 
 be surmised, was Hagar Lot ; " one who will 
 take care of you, and teach you many things." 
 
 " Not to the Daddy ! I will not go back to 
 the Daddy any more !" cried Floret, earnestly, 
 though her voice was faint. 
 
 " You will not," returned Hagar, with a 
 sneer on her lip, as she gazed steadfastly at 
 her; "you speak with decision, child. How 
 could you prevent yourself being taken to him, 
 if it. were so ordered ?" 
 
 " I would run away from him, I would 
 Btarve myself, I would drown myself!" she 
 exclaimed, passionately, then remembering, 
 suddenly, Hattie's gentle admonition to her 
 when, on a previous occasion, she had suffered 
 *uch expressions to escape her, she pressed 
 her hands together, and, bursting into tears, 
 said, in a beseeching tone, which evidently 
 affected Hagar : 
 
 " Do not take me to the Daddy ! Do not 
 take me to him ! I shall break my heart and 
 die if you do!" 
 
 "I am taking you from him," replied Ha- 
 gar, quietly. " I took yo nout of his clutches, 
 even white he thought you were the most 
 tightly fastened within them. You will prob- 
 ably never eee him more ; or, at least, not un- 
 
 til you will have no cause to fear him." 
 
 ' O ! I shall be so happy !" rejoined Floret;, 
 ervently. 
 
 There Tras a silence of a minute or en, and 
 then Floret said, hesitatingly, but bending an 
 earnest look of inquiry upon Hagar : 
 " Where are you taking me to now?" 
 "I have already told you, child," she re- 
 turned ; " to one who will have the future care 
 of you." 
 " To Mamma Atten ?" inquired Floret, eager- 
 
 <y 
 
 " Ay !" responded Hagar, sarcastically ; if 
 eo she pleases to style herself," 
 
 Then, after a pause, she added : 
 
 " You must be silent, and not question me. 
 You are weak and faint from want of food: 
 We shall stop shortly, and you shall have 
 something nice to eat and, mark me, you 
 must eat. You must keep a silent tongue, 
 too; for if you speak a word to those -whom 
 you may meet or see around you, nothing can 
 prevent the Daddy seizing you, and carrying 
 you off again. If he does, I will never more 
 take you from him !" 
 
 " I will not speak one word, and I will eat 
 as much as I can," she replied, quickly ; and 
 idded, " I shall be glad to eat, too, for I am 
 jo very hungry." 
 
 Hagar did not reply, and Floret laid back 
 ind closed her eyes, for she felt exhausted. 
 
 What a series of strange thoughts went 
 through that child's brain, as sha reclined in 
 the corner of the carriage. They were far from 
 happy ones ; for they all gradually concentrat- 
 ed into one deep, earnest wish that she were 
 by her mother's side in heaven. 
 
 The carriage stopped at a roadside inn. There 
 Hagar saw Floret supplied with light but 
 needful refreshment, and she watched her 
 while she ate, and saw that she kept her prom- 
 ise of satisfying her appetite, and doing so ia 
 silence. 
 
 Two hDurs only were paseed in the tavern y 
 and then onward they traveled again, until 
 they reached a small station, connected with a 
 railway. It was pitched in a lonely spot,. ' 
 though not far from some important seat of 
 manufacture ; but it was night, and Floret,, 
 who again was overcome with drowsiness, took 
 little heed of ifc, and would not recognize it- if 
 she saw it in the daylight. i 
 
 Hagar took places in the cushioned com- 
 partment of a train, which shortly afterward 
 arrived. It was unoccupied, save by them- 
 selves, and onward still they went at a swifter 
 pace than ever, until the pale-blue atmos- 
 phere and cold air of dawn heralded another 
 day. i 
 
 One more transfer into a somewhat antique 
 postchaise, drawn by seemingly older post- 
 horses, who, in their turn, were driven by a 
 yet more aged post-boy. 
 
 On again, over wild tracts of moorland, 
 through a bleak and sterile region, until some- 
 what more undulating and more^ wooded 
 ground was gained/ Then the carriage turn- 
 ed into a narrow by-road, which proved to be 
 
32 
 
 EAGAR LOT ; 
 
 a gentle acclivity. About half-way up, they 
 turned through a dilapidated stone- buttressed 
 gateway, up a semicircular avenue of trees, 
 and the horses were brought to a stand-still 
 before an ancient mansion of considerable ex- 
 tent, but apparently inhabited only by bats 
 and owls. Everything about the place exhib- 
 ited evidence of rum and decay, and no- 
 where around was there a sign of human 
 life. 
 
 5 Yet the sound of the carriage-wheels brought 
 to the hall-door an old, hard-featured, gloomy- 
 looking man, who, having flung the door wide, 
 called aloud to some one within. 
 J The summons was instantly responded to 
 by two tall, gaunt looking women, clad in 
 slate- colored dresses of an ancient fashion, 
 whose shriveled faces were pale with confiBe- 
 ment, study, or pinching want perhaps all 
 combined. 
 
 Hagar instantly alighted. Poor little Floret, 
 worn out by fatigue to which her unrenewed 
 strength was not equal, was in a deep slumber, 
 and Hagar bade the postilion lift her out of 
 the chaise, and carry her into the house. 
 ; Before the bowed and feeble post-boy could 
 comply, a figure sprang before him, dived into 
 the vehicle, and raising Floret with womanly 
 tenderness in his arms, he carried her into the 
 hall, and thence into a reception-room, and 
 laid her upon a faded, creaking old couch, 
 which stood trembling by the wall. 
 
 It was Liper Leper. 
 
 Hagar watched him with flashing eyes, fol- 
 lowed him closely, and kept her gaze fastened 
 upoa him until he had deposited his delicate 
 burden carefully upon the resting-place, 
 which, with a quick glance, he had discovered. 
 But she did not o v serve his eyes linger on 
 Floret's face, or d'ecover by his manner, as he 
 glided away, that he took more interest in the 
 poor child than she ought to have expected 
 from one who knew her to be in some way 
 identified with its fata. 
 
 The two thin, grim ladies followed Hagftr 
 Into the room, and one of them it was diffi- 
 cult to decide by a glance at their faces which 
 was the eldest said, in a frigid tone : 
 
 "This is the child?" 
 
 Hagar turned to her, threw back her hood, 
 and with a proud and haughty gesture, which 
 the occasion did not seem to warrant, replied, 
 in a harsh tone : 
 , "It is!" 
 
 I Both ladies betrayed for an instant, and for 
 an instant only, surprise, at the tone of voice 
 in which Hagar epoke, and also at her ap- 
 pearance. They retained the same cold, rigid 
 exterior, and the one who had previously 
 spoken continued : 
 
 " You are the agent of the lady with whom 
 we have been in communication?" 
 
 " I am," returned Hagar, with iheeame scorn- 
 ful manner. 
 
 ^You are a gipsy," observed the elderly 
 maiden, who had not yet spoken, 
 i Higar's eyes flashed fiercely. 
 
 " I am that which a Greater Power than you 
 
 or any other human creature can influence or 
 con'rtl has made me!" she exclaimed, sternly. 
 " What I am, cannot be of any moment to you. 
 Yonder lies the object of your cure and of 
 your interests !" 
 
 Sbe pointed to the slumbering Floret. 
 
 "What you are, may become a subject of 
 moment to us," returned the unbending female, 
 with shrewish emphasis. 
 
 " Hush ! sister," exclaimed her'companion ; 
 "let me speak! The terms of my arrange- 
 ment with the lady with whom I communicat- 
 ed," she proceeded to say, addressing Hagar, 
 " were a year's charges in advance, for board, 
 washing, education, and extras, to be paid 
 down at the very commencement. Unless 
 those terms are complied with " 
 
 Hagar threw a purse upon the table, and in- 
 terrupting her, said, with an expree&ion of con- 
 tempt curling her upper lip : 
 
 * Open it, and examine i's contents. Tell 
 me for what term the sum will suffice." 
 
 Tne female whom she addressed opened the 
 purse with long fingers, which were not unlike 
 the talons of a vulture. They were whiter and 
 softer, but they closed over the purte with a 
 very claw-like movement. 
 
 There was money within it gold end notes. 
 Her sister locked agitated over her shoulder, 
 as wich trembling fiogers she counted it over. 
 
 When she had finished, she said, looking at 
 Hagar with an expression of exultation she 
 could.not suppress : 
 
 'Here is rather more than will pay for 
 three years' board, instruction, washing, ex- 
 tras, and 
 
 " Enough," interposed Hager, coldly; 
 " Write and give me a receipt to that effect." 
 
 The ladies were eager to comply with her re- 
 quest. They had a polite snarling respecting 
 the writing of tfce receipt, but, at length, the 
 one who had secured possession of the purse 
 and its contents wrote the required document, 
 and handed it to Hegar. 
 
 Tho latter examined it, folded it up, and 
 placed it in a pocket-book. Then ehe ad- 
 dressed both the ladies : 
 
 " As you will both," she said, " have the 
 custody of the child, it is necessary to impress 
 upon your minds that you must study her 
 health. While you are not at all restricted aa 
 to the descriptiou of tho diet, nor the rules you 
 may think proper to lay down and follow, you 
 must not forget that it is of the gravest im- 
 portance that she should live over the three 
 years, for which term, she has been consigned 
 to your custody. Remember, she must not 
 die, for if she should, the consequences may be 
 serious to you. More than one life hangs 
 upon hers, and some day she may be a lady ot 
 high rank or she may perish a mere outcast. 
 You will not permit her to stroll beyond the 
 precincts of your house or garden grounds ; if 
 you do, the probabilities are strong that you 
 will lose her. In that case you will havo to 
 refund part of the money now placed in your 
 handr, and you will possibly be called upon to 
 stand at the bar of public justice upon a charge 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 irhieli n ow you cannot imagine. No one will 
 Dome here to see her no one, unless it be my- 
 self, or the lady who wrote to you, may be 
 permitted to see her. She will not receive any 
 fetters, therefore she will not be permitted to 
 write any. I any circumstances should arise 
 which may place you in a position of difficulty 
 with respect to her, you know already where 
 and with whom to communicate. I have to 
 add, that you will address her only by the 
 name of Edith speak of, and write of her only 
 under that name. She sleeps now heavily. She 
 is under the influence of a narcotic. She will 
 soon awake, and you will at first find it no 
 easy task to conciliate and pacify her. But it 
 must be done. You can lead her to believe 
 that she will sojourn here for a time, and let 
 her hope that she will soon join those whom 
 ehe best loved on earth. It cannot do much 
 harm to let her hope the most wretched have 
 at least that anodyne. A box of clothes, made 
 for her, will reach you, probably to-day, and 
 others will be sent from time to time, or you 
 can supply them as they may be needed, and 
 harge lor them. I have no more to say. 
 Farewell I" 
 
 " Can we offer " suggested one of the la- 
 dies. 
 
 "A leetle refreshment?" subjoined the 
 other. 
 
 " Some elder wine ?" submitted the first. 
 
 ''Thin but nourishing very nourishing!" 
 recommended the second. 
 
 Hagar waved her hand. 
 
 " I require no refreshment. I bid you look 
 to your charge, and to remember well what you 
 have undertaken to perform." 
 
 So saving, Hagar quitted the room with 
 stately step, greatly to the admiration of the 
 two ladies, who did not remember to have seen 
 * gipsy of her stamp before. 
 
 Tuey saw her to the carriage, saw her enter 
 it, and Jrive off, and then they returned, 
 huckling and chattering to each other, into 
 their lone, old, time-shattered cage. 
 
 They found, upon their return to the recep- 
 tion-room, that Floret had half risen from the 
 sofa, upon which she had been reclining, and 
 w^s gazing around her with an expression of 
 unqualified wonder in her eyes, which was not 
 lessened when the two gaunt damsels entered 
 the apartment, and smiled upon her with a 
 benignancy that was anything but reassuring. 
 
 Floret had a hundred questions to ask, all 
 trembling on the tip of her tongue, but, during 
 her young life, she had been taught some hard 
 lessons, and she checked herself. She quietly 
 resolved to suffer the two strange-looking 
 women to speak first, and surmised that she 
 should be able to form a more correct not on 
 of her new position by permitting them to 
 talk to her than if she were to put fifty intei- 
 rog-itories to them. 
 
 That she was correct in her surmise, she 
 very quickly found, for she was informed, by 
 the two sisters that she was now at a boarding- 
 school, where she would be instructed in the 
 arious branches of education, in a oomple te 
 
 and exhaustive manner; so that, when she 
 quitted their establishment, she would be 
 fitted for the highest society in the world, even 
 to be the lady principal of one of the first la 
 dies' colleges in the universe. 
 
 There was much that was uttered bv these 
 ancient ladies one interpolating every sen- 
 tence that the other uttered wnich wa,s pure 
 jargon to Floret's ears ; but she extracted out 
 of it all, that she was once more a prisoner 
 was to be caged in the drear old mansion Bhe 
 wad now in, she knew not how long was to be 
 separated from Mamma Atten, and every one 
 else who had spoken to or treated her kindly, 
 for some lengthened period and, in fact, was 
 to be shut out from all communion with the 
 world, until those who had taken upon them- 
 seJYes to place her where she now was, thought 
 fit to liberate her. 
 
 This, perhaps, would have seemed to her a 
 very terrible fate, but for two considerations. 
 The first was, that she should there be safe 
 from the clutches of the Daddy, until ho had, 
 perhaps, quite forgotten her, or was dead ; and 
 the second was no less timpor tan t ia her eyes. 
 She shouli here, in seclusion and quiet, be 
 able to make herself mistress of those acquire- 
 ments and accomplishments which would fit 
 her for the highest society even that of a 
 young lord. 
 
 The two sisters were somewhat amazed, and 
 agreeably amazed, to find that, after a little 
 reflection, the child took their announcement 
 with remarkable resignation. One very heavy 
 sigh almost a sob burst from her lips, and 
 she covered her face with her two tiny white 
 hands, *s one of the sisters concluded a long 
 homily ,>.*i the virtues of patience and obedi- 
 ence ; but it was only for a moment. She 
 removed her hands, and, turning hr liquid 
 eyes upon the grim pair, said, in a low, 
 thoughtful tone : 
 
 " I will try to be good and attentive, and to 
 do what you bid me !" 
 
 "Angelic child!" ejaculated one of the sis 
 tern. 
 
 " Would it like some new-laid eggs, and 
 bread and butter, and some nice lukewarm 
 milk and waiar ?" exclaimed the other. 
 
 Floret assented, and the mild repast was 
 quickly spread before her. In such fashion 
 was the afterpart of the day got over. 
 
 She was conducted to bed early in the even- 
 ing, and was placed in a large, old fashioned 
 chamber, the walls of which were covered with 
 dark wainscot oak, blackened by time. Be- 
 tween the panels were raised carvings of quaint 
 faces, and masques, and rich devices of fruit 
 and flowers, and the ceiling was divided into 
 heavy compartments. 
 
 Sae was not permitted to have a light, but 
 this seemed to be a question of email import- 
 ance, for she was put to bed at daylight, and 
 wus not expected to rise until after the break- 
 ing of dawn. 
 
 Poor ihtle Floret ! She felt very, very sad 
 and desolate, when ehe found herself upon a 
 hard pallet, with very scanty covering, and she 
 
HAGAR LOTi 
 
 aould not keep bock the scalding tears which a 
 very keen sense of the misery of her situation 
 forced from her eyelids. 
 
 Yet she strove bravely to fight against her 
 wretchedness, for she was animated by the one 
 hope, that she should, in this lone, dreary 
 place, become mistress of all those stores of 
 knowledge to which Hatty had only introduced 
 her, and which, when all her own, would qual- 
 ify her to converse, on equal terms, with one 
 who now was as much her superior in learning 
 M he was or, as she thought he was in 
 rank. 
 
 But, in spite of her efforts to be resigned 
 to this Eew change in her condition, she 
 sobbed long and bitterly cried herself to 
 sleep, in fact. 
 
 Perhaps it was well that she did so. 
 
 Night came on, and, gradually, every object 
 in the room was rendered indistinct. Then a 
 door in the corner of the chamber noiselessly 
 opened, and a thin, shivering figure, scantily 
 clad only in a night-garment, crept into the 
 room, and wandered about, as if in search of 
 something. 
 
 Upon the table was some bread and butter, 
 and a mug, containing som* milk and water, 
 placed there for Floret's supper, if she felt in- 
 clined to take it, although the two grim skele- 
 ton women, with one breath, assured her that 
 suppers were most injurious meals. 
 
 The phantom figure ate the bread and but- 
 ter greedily ; and, when it had eaten every 
 crumb, and had drunk up the whole of the 
 milk and water, it took up a strip of carpet, 
 which had been placed at the side of Floret's 
 bed, and disappeared with it. 
 
 As tho first pale, gray streak of the dawn 
 shone through the panes f the uncurtained 
 window, the mysterious figure reappeared 
 with the carpet, laid it down on the spot from 
 whence it had taken it, and, glancing at the 
 table, as if expecting to see another supply of 
 bread and butter and milk and water, dis- 
 appeared, on perceiving that nothing was 
 there but the empty mug. 
 
 The sun was shining upon Floret's bed when 
 she awoke, and she arose, dressed, and de- 
 scended as one of the gaunt ladies was about 
 to seek her, to expatiate upon the evil conse- 
 quences of the practice of lying late in bed 
 there, one of them was the loss of a break- 
 fast. 
 
 Still, both ladies were gracious to her, and 
 they gave her permission to walk in the 
 garden for an hour, before they laid before 
 her the regulations to which she would have 
 to conform. 
 
 Floret availed herself of their offer, and 
 proceeded to the garden, which was very ex- 
 tensive, and led, apparently, through a large 
 orchard to a dense plantation of dark firs. 
 
 The garden, many years back, had been a 
 rely beautiful one, tastefully laid out with 
 parterres and winding walks ; now, it was one 
 tangled mass of flowers and weeds, growing 
 together, inter wined in rank luxuriance. 
 : Floret had but little cLtanoe of examining 
 
 the beauties of the place, or of lamenting its 
 decay, for, as she wound round one of the 
 serpentine walks, near to a huge bush, almost 
 a tree, of the dark greeu laurel, flourishing 
 vigorously in the damp which there prevailed, 
 she saw a shadow fall on her path. 
 
 She looked up Liper Leper stood by her 
 side I 
 
 He placed his finger on his lip to caution 
 her to silence. 
 
 "Listen to me, White Rose," he said, hur- 
 riedly, " and do not interrupt me for I must 
 hasten far, far from this, when I leave you. I 
 dp not know even now, that my lagging be- 
 hind to see and speak to you may not work 
 mischief for both. But what I have to say is 
 at least worth the risk to you. Silver-blossom, 
 you have been again torn from one who has 
 proved to you, and would, as far as might 
 bo m her power, still prove to you, as tender 
 as a mother ; but she is of humble life, and 
 you are a lady born, though not bred one. 
 Nay, do not start and tremble so and brush 
 away from your eyes those large crystal dew- 
 drops, for to see them there only makes me 
 feel faint and sick at heart. There, lily of 
 the vale, that smile is bravely done ; it will 
 nerve me to may task let its memory keep 
 you to yours. I tell you that you are a lady 
 born. Some day some day, star of the 
 flower bank, it shall be proved I will prove 
 it" 
 
 " You you Liper ?" she cried, eagerly. 
 "Hxish! not a word, May-bloom. Have 
 faith, in me, courage and strength, and confi- 
 dence in yourself. You have been placed here 
 to remain in secret for two, perhaps three 
 years, but in safety, white pearl, or Hagar 
 would not have brought you hither. Here 
 you can learn all that high-born ladies know, 
 if you work hard ; here it will be better, more 
 prudent, and indeed safer, for you to stay than 
 anywhere I know of ; and here I counsel you 
 to remain as long as you can, taking heart out 
 of the hope I have given you, of some day 
 being one of the highest and proudest in the 
 land. But there may spring up reasons which 
 I cannot foresee, motives and causes which it 
 would be impossible for me to imagine, which 
 may make it necessary for you to escape from 
 this place. You cannot do so without money. 
 Here is a sum which you must hide away, and 
 never touch until you actually need it for the 
 purpose I have named. Do not hesitate to use 
 it freely, it u honestly mine to give ; and you 
 will not, I know, refuse to receive it from me, 
 because you know, golden primrose, you can 
 pay me back again when you are a great lady. 
 Take, too, this dagger," he added, handing to 
 her a steel poniard, sheathed, and having a 
 handle of curious workmanship. " Be careful 
 how you use it, for the point is envenomed. 
 Knowing this, you will know when, and when 
 alone, to use it. Farewell, White Rose, keep 
 up your heart and your spirit. Stay here, 
 learning all you can, as long as you can endure 
 it. Then fly. In your flight seek the people of 
 our tribe. Show to them your left 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 85 
 
 and point out the three-sides mark upon it. 
 Say to them, ' I am EL YDAIOUH,' and they 
 wifi succor you, and help you onward, at the 
 risk of their lives. Farewell, snowflake! 
 sometimes think of me sometimes pray for 
 me. May the Great Spirit bless you I White 
 Rose, and make you happy, happy very 
 
 J[e caught up her hand and placed a email 
 packet in it. He kissed her soft fingers gently 
 as he did so, and then glided swiftly away 
 behind the laurel trees. 
 
 Floret sank upon the ground, and bowed 
 her face upon her knees. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Those who sojourn hers seldom wish to stay 
 
 For any length of time ; an hour or two 
 
 la quite sufficient ; few would spend a day. 
 
 Fewer a week, and none a twelvemonth through. 
 The bore is this they cannot get away, 
 Although they labor for't with much ado ; 
 
 ****** 
 Sometimes they take to flight, with hopes to 'scape 
 Their term of torture, scampering many a mile."| 
 KENBALT (a new Pantomime). 
 Floret quickly learned the character of life 
 she would have to lead at her new home, until 
 circumstances, of which she at present could 
 form DO idea, emancipated her from a condi- 
 tion, which if in one sense beneficial to her, 
 was in every other almost insupportable thrall- 
 dom. 
 
 On her return from the garden, after having 
 parted with Liper Leper very dejected, feeling 
 very much as if the last ray of sunshine had 
 been withdrawn from her daily life, she was re- 
 ceived by the sisters in solemn state, in a room 
 which was styled the examination-room, and 
 she was made to undergo an examiation, which 
 was conducted with so much skiD, that in com- 
 paratively a few minutes the sisters had not 
 only made themselves acquainted with the very 
 meagre state of Floret's acquirements, but with 
 her disposition, and her capacity to learn. 
 
 They found the latter both satisfactory, and 
 proceeded to mark out for her a routine, which 
 to Floret appeared at first of the most formi- 
 dable character, and she was utterly bewildered 
 when she was informed that she would have to 
 pursue orthographical, grammatical, etymolo- 
 
 S'.cal, geographical, topographical, arithmetic- 
 , mathematical, botanical, geological, theo- 
 logical, astronomical, historical, biographical, 
 caligraphical, musical, and artistical studies, 
 together with the acquirement of the French, 
 German, Latin, Greek, Italian, and Spanish 
 languages. 
 
 But there was something grand in the sound 
 of the strange words she had heard ; and the 
 spirit of emulation, never dormant in her breast, 
 made her heart leap at the very notion of be- 
 coming mistress of such a cycle of knowledge. 
 She, therefore, with unaffected willingness, ex- 
 pressed her readiness to commence as soon as 
 she was required to do so. She was, however, 
 condescendingly permitted to have a few days' 
 quiet before she commenced her labors, in or- 
 der that she might become used to the place, 
 the people within it, and their ways. 
 
 During the brief period that-ensued between 
 that examination and the commencement oi 
 her work, she had ample opportunity of learn- 
 ing all about the mansion, its inhabitants, and 
 their rules, which she desired to know. We 
 may here explain that the ladies, to whom We: 
 have introduced our readers as the future cus-l 
 todians, for at least three years, of Floret, were 
 the daughters of the gloomy-looking old man 
 who first opened the hall-door, upon the arriv- 
 al of the post-chaise at the portal, 
 
 That old man was the son of very poor par- 
 ents, and having shown a peculiar aptitude for 
 learning, was sent by a gentleman, who had no 
 ticed his qualifications, to a grammar-school. 
 Here he carried oif a scholarship which ena- 
 bled him to proceed to Oxford, where he ob- 
 tained high honors and a fellowship. His ap- 
 petite for learning was amazing , his memory 
 ffas prodigious ; and the very highest profess- 
 orships were almost within his grasp, when he, 
 in a weak moment, was caught by the beauty, 
 f a girl, in extremely humble circumstances,! 
 who had nothing but a clear, white skin, bright 
 eyes, and regular features to recommend her. ; 
 He married her, ana had to resign his fellow ( 
 ship. He was afterward presented with a liv- 
 ing, which had but a small income, not far 
 from the spot in which he now resided, and he 
 retired to it. While there, he was blessed* 
 with two children twins. He, however, lived 
 most unhappily with his wife. She was ex- > 
 tremely ignorant, violent- tempered, and offen- 
 sively vulgar. He grew soured and morose, 
 secluded himself entirely with his books, and 
 endured the privations which his ruiserable in- 
 come enforced, rather than, with euch a wife, 
 endeavor to extend his influence, or increase 
 the number of his parishioners. 
 
 A town springing up within a few miles of 
 his parish, drew away the chief part, of the in- 
 habitants of his village ; the church went to 
 decay for want of funds to repair it; and he 
 became comparatively a beggar. His two 
 daughters, while infants, both exhibited tem- 
 pers of the most violent description, inheriting 
 much of his passionate nature, with a large 
 proportion of their mother's vixenish fury. 
 They came into the world howling, and 
 they kept up a perpetual screeching; they 
 screamed all day, and they yelled all night, 
 and they defied all attempts to pacify them. 
 He prayed for resignation, and for strength to 
 bear the infliction; their mother alternately 
 kissed, slapped, coaxed, smacked, shook, sung 
 to, spanked, or shouted at them, but to no pur- 
 pose. In spirit of spite, he christened one of 
 them Ate, and the other Sycorax. Time went 
 on they quarreled, fought, struggled on ! 
 through three or four years, leaving it an open 
 question which of them father, mother, or 
 children had obtained the mastery, or had 
 been most wretched during that period. One 
 day, the wife gave way to an ungovernable 
 tempest of passion, and broke a blood-vessel, 
 which summarily killed her. | 
 
 The rearing of the little Ate and Sycorax 
 then devolved wholly upon the father. He 
 
6 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 Hied their minds with learning, and starved 
 Iheir frames. He took a special delight in 
 i Camming them with knowledge of almost 
 I very branch of which he was master, and in 
 instructing them to live upon nothing. 
 ; One of the daughters, exhibiting a taste for 
 music, which, conquering her misery, forced 
 her to sing while even in the throes of griping 
 Lunger, was supplied with a music and sing- 
 ing-master, through the kindness of one of the 
 neighboring gentry, who respected her father's 
 intellectual acquirements, although he did not 
 like the man. From him, she learned not only 
 [the art of playiog upon the pianoforte and 
 ringing, but the mysteries of thorough bass. 
 Her father would not permit either of his 
 j daughters to have a smattering only of any 
 i branch of knowledge. He made them master 
 it thoroughly. 
 
 They reaped the advantage of it afterward. 
 
 When old enough to be married, there were 
 no suitors for their hands, even in imagination ; 
 and, to obtain the bare necessaries of life, they 
 took lady-pupils ; but, as they nearly killed 
 them by over-study, and by at the same time 
 underfeeding them, they never had many at a 
 time ; and even the last few were taken away 
 from them by their electrified parents, to pre- 
 yent their compulsory departure by dying off. 
 ' It wag at thin period that an execution for 
 debt swept off everything that their father 
 possessed, and then once more the kind neigh- 
 bor stepped in. He gave them the dilapidat- 
 ed mansion to live in, which they at present 
 occupied ; he rescued for them all their educa- 
 tional works, their piano, and the globes ; and 
 for their father, his library of classics, and 
 ancient theological MSS., and printed works. 
 
 He also caused to be inserted ia the Times 
 newspaper an advertisement, worded in a pe- 
 culiar style. He surmised from what he knew 
 of the sisters Blixenfinik's establishment, that 
 it would be better calculated to get the pu- 
 p?ls whom they alone could keep, than if he 
 had employed the usual and ordinary terms. 
 It stated that the Misses A. and 8. Blixen- 
 finik, of Ugglebarnby, in tha North Biding of 
 Yorkshire, were prepared to receive, board, 
 and instruct young lady pupils, whose parents 
 required for them the advantages of a sequest- 
 ered and secluded home secure and sacred 
 from all external influences. The terms were 
 declared to be moderate, and the strictest pri- 
 vacy in all transactions preserved. 
 | The author of the advertisement knew the 
 class of children the parents of whom such an 
 advertisement would attract: but to do the 
 Misses Blixenfinik justice, they were certainly 
 too simple and unacquainted with the world's 
 ways to have the least suspicion of the truth. 
 
 The Marchioness of "Westchester happened 
 to see by chance this advertisement ; its pe- 
 culiarity struck her, because it was applicable 
 in one sense to herself. Hagar Lot, that same 
 nigiit, sought her, to inform her that the old 
 man who bad previously the care of Floret had 
 again ^discovered her, and was upon her track. 
 The Marchioness pointed out the advertise- 
 
 ment to Hagar, informed her that she wai 
 about to proceed abroad for two or three 
 years, and suggested that, if she could regain 
 the child, it would be a better plan than any 
 they had yet formed respecting her, to place 
 her at the establishment of the Misses Blixen- 
 finik. 
 
 Hagar, with a curious eagerness, assented ; the 
 Marchioness immediately conducted a corre- 
 pondence with the Mieses Blixenfinik in a feign* 
 ed name, placed funds at the command of Ha- 
 gar ; and the latter, as we have seen, having suc- 
 cessfully snatched Floret from the Daddy's 
 clutches, placed her with the ladiee, who, in 
 one respect, gave a tone to her future life. 
 
 Floret soon found it insupportably dreary 
 to wander in the garden alone, although ehe 
 had found and clambered up a higi earthen 
 mound, and from thence beheld a long ex- 
 panse of flat country on one hand, and the 
 dark, turbulent, restless North Sea on the 
 other. At first, never having seen the sea be- 
 fore, it much interested her ; but it soon gave 
 rise to despondent thoughts, for it created a 
 wieh to go somewhere beyond its limits, and 
 then she reflected that if she did, there would 
 be no friend or relative there to receive and 
 welcome her. 
 
 So she avoided the garden, and turned her 
 thoughts to her mental work, and yearned for 
 it. It came, and soon enough ; for it quickly 
 absorbed all childish thoughts and fancies, all 
 desire for play or sport, all Bprightlinesa or 
 disposition to frolic in fact, from dawn to 
 bed-time, all her time was employed, save 
 when occupied by spare and scanty meals, 
 which, as yet, were liberal to what they would 
 be. 
 
 There was no other pupil who entered the 
 rooms in which she studied ; and though one 
 or the other of the Misses Blixenfinik absented 
 themselves during the day, and she sometimes 
 heard the piano being played upon by a less 
 practiced hand than than that of the sister 
 Ate, who was the music-mistress, yet she eaw 
 no one. 
 
 She soon began to be accustomed to her 
 routine of study, and to make quick progress 
 in all the rudiments of the various branches of 
 learning ; for she applied herself to them with 
 enthusiastic earnestness, and both her mis- 
 tresses taught well 
 
 They understood the art of grounding a 
 pupil thoroughly their father had made them 
 understand it and aa they led Floret on by 
 lucidly progressive lessons, explaining clearly 
 to her everything she found difficult to com- 
 prehend, her advancement was necessarily very 
 rapid. 
 
 At first, the novelty of her employment, the 
 wondrous field it opened to her intelligent and 
 naturally inquiring mind, and the incessant 
 application it demanded, robbed her daily life 
 of much of its monotony. She commenced 
 with a task the moment her eyes opened, and 
 she dropped asleep over one "which she was 
 conning in bed,; when she retired to rest wnile 
 it was yet daylight. Thus for a time the dull, 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 vapid, dreariness of the place passed unnoticed 
 by her, because her mind was absorbed by the 
 work it was called upon to perform. 
 
 For the first week or two, the sisters Ate* and 
 Sycorax were bland and gracious to her. She 
 was allowed ten minutes in the garden before 
 dinner, and five minutes after tea. Sometimes 
 she was permitted to take her little frugal sup- 
 per to bed with her, and that was regarded as 
 a special favor, to one whose strength, it was 
 evident, was not quite equal to the tasks im- 
 posed upon it 
 
 This supper consisted of a thin slice of 
 bread a mere wafer, in the eyes of a boy at 
 the age when he considers a half-quartern loaf 
 by no means beyond his capacity to swallow 
 at a sittinga few lettuce leaves, and a mug 
 half filled with water, containing a dash of 
 milk in it. Occasionally, an apple would be 
 added to this profusion by old Blixenfinik, 
 who watched her progress with curiosity, and 
 was much moved by her earnestness, her per- 
 severance, and the singular quickness, not 
 only with which she comprehended, but with 
 which she committed to memory whatever was 
 said before her. 
 
 This reward was always given to her in se- 
 cret; the old man explained to her why he 
 gave it her, but he sternly forbade her men- 
 tioning his generosity to Ate* or Sycorax, be- 
 cause, he said, they would take it from her, 
 and after a quarrel over a division of the spoil, 
 eat it themselves. 
 
 Sometimes Floret, absorbed in her lessons, 
 or wearied with her day's work, would drop 
 asleep before she had touched her supper. 
 Whenever she did so, it was gone when morn- 
 ing came. 
 
 The mug alone remained ; and that was al- 
 ways empty. 
 
 At first she fancied, on discovering this cir- 
 cumstance, that she had eaten her supper, and 
 afterward had forgotten that she had done 
 so ; but the recurrence of the circumstance two 
 or three times convinced her that some one 
 entered the room after she was asleep, and par- 
 took of it 
 
 Before this thought flashed across her mind, 
 her great old-fashioned room had caused! her 
 i no superstitious misgivings ; but now she felt 
 her flesh crawl, as she wondered who it could 
 be who stole into it in the night- time, and ate 
 her supper while she slept. 
 
 It was not the sisters Ate and Syeorax ; for 
 they would surely have alluded to the subject 
 when she again carried her evening meal to 
 her bedroom with her. But they said nothing 
 whatever to her respecting it. It could not 
 be old Blixenfinik, for he made her a present 
 of apples, and would hardly take them away 
 again. 
 
 And not being him, who could it be ? There 
 was only an old woman, who came to assist in 
 the household duties during the day, but she 
 went home when tea was over. She resolved 
 to try and find the mystery out, although she 
 did BO with nervous apprehension. She locked 
 her bedroom door one night when she went to 
 
 bed, and she tried to keep awake to watch ; 
 but, tired out, she dropped insensibly to sleep, 
 and si "- Ail 
 
 The bread and butter, the apple, and the 
 mDk and water were gone. The mug alone' 
 remained, and the door was still locked. 
 
 Floret was much disturbed ; she said noth- t 
 ing to the sisters, but she began to conceiye a * 
 horrible fear of going to bed. She felt thst 
 she dared not speak of what had taken place, 
 and yet she reflected, with almost indescribable* 
 terror, that some unimaginable form sat at that' 
 table, opposite the foot of her bed, in the dark) 
 hour of the night, perhaps midnight, snapping 
 up her frugal meal, and glaring at her wh ?e 
 she lay sleeping. 
 
 It was strange that, strive as she would, s ie 
 could not keep her eyes open until nightj 
 clothed her room in darkness. She, therefore, 
 could not discover who her mysterious visitor. 
 was. 
 
 One night, however, she woke up out of a 
 deep sleep, but without making any movement,! 
 save that she opened her eyes, and looked) 
 straight before her. 
 
 The moon was nearly at the full, and its' 
 beams shone brightly into the room, Theyi 
 fell upon her face ; but they fell, too, upon tW 
 face and form of a young girl about her own' 
 age, who was clad only in a thin, white night- j 
 gown. 
 
 She sat on a chair by the table, with her 
 hands clasped upon her knees, and she was 
 gazing wistfully on Floret's face. i i 
 
 At first, Floret felt that she must shriek 
 wildly and frantically ; then she found that 
 her heart beat so violently, and she was so 
 sick with fear that her tongue clove to the 
 roof of her mouth. j j 
 
 The seeming phantom sighed several times 
 deeply, and then, stretching her clasped hands 
 toward Floret, she murmured : , i< 
 
 " O! if I were only half as kindly treated 
 and as happy as you are !" 
 
 And then she laid her face between her fold- 
 ed arms upon the table, and wept. 
 
 It was no phantom, no' ghost Floret was aura 
 of that now ; but she was still frightened, and 
 trembled very much. ;|i 
 
 She rose slowly up in the bed, and said, in a 
 low, soft voice : " Who are you ?" | 
 
 The figure, with a gesture of apprehension,' 
 started, and, lifting her head from the table, 
 turned her face to Floret. ^ 
 
 Then she ran to the foot of the bed, and 
 kneeling down, with clasped hanos, nhe said : 
 
 " Do not tell of me do not betray me to 
 Miss Ate, or she will punish me cruelly Ol ; 
 so verv cruelly !" 
 
 " Will she?" asked Floret, still shaking like' 
 an aspen ; " what for ?" 
 
 "Because I have stolen inio your 
 
 and have eaten your supper," replied the] 
 shivering girL " But I could not feelp it, for 
 htey starve me, and so they will you by and 
 
 by." 
 
 Floret looked in hei 
 shuddered. 
 
 an, thin face, and 
 
88 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 | " Why do they not give you enough to eat ?" 
 ehe inquired. 
 
 I " Hugh 1" whispered the giri, with a fright 
 ened gesture. " The Bisters sleep not far from 
 | this room, and I often hear Miss Ate say that 
 'he can hear the mice race up and down 
 <rooms, and round the wainscoat " 
 
 ' And do they ?" inquired Floret, with a 
 choking sensation. 
 
 "O yes, very often," returned the girl; 
 
 they are starving, top, I think, and, like me, 
 they roam about at night to steal something 
 to eat." 
 
 " But who are you, and why do they keep 
 you without food?" inquired Floret, earnestly, 
 in a whisper. 
 
 ) " I am a pupil here. I am an orphan, I be 
 lieve I do not know who I am," returned the 
 girl, in a tone of anguish. " But somebody 
 sent me here, and I am not paid for, Miss Ate 
 eays, and they do not know where to send me 
 to ; and so they are slowly starving me to 
 death, to get, rid of me." 
 
 " 1 how horrible !" murmured Floret, in a 
 tone of frigtt " I I, too, am an orphan. I 
 do not know who sent me here. I don't know 
 whether I am paid for perhaps they will 
 starve me ?" 
 
 " No," returned the girl, quickly. " You 
 are well paid for, and for three years, and all 
 in one large sum of money. Miss At told me 
 that, and spat at me. They will feed you for 
 some little time better than they will me; 
 but they will stint you by and by, when some 
 ; one else" comes, and they will take your bed 
 from you, end make you lie, like me, on some 
 old carpets, with scarcely anything to cover 
 you." 
 
 i " But I won't let them have my bed, and I 
 will have enough to eat!" exclaimed Floret, 
 angrily ; " and so shall you. I will bring tip 
 such a lot of bread and butter, and apples, to- 
 morrow night" 
 
 ; "Hush hush! for Heaven's sake!" whis- 
 pered the girl, excitedly. "If we are over- 
 : heard, I shall be put down in the dark hole, 
 '.where the rats are. O! they have such a 
 dreadful place down underground here." 
 
 A cold shiver went over Floret, and some 
 dismal foreboding crept into her mind. 
 
 "I will tell you," continued the girl, 
 thoughtfully, "what you might do, and I 
 will bless you for your goodness, if you 
 will." " What is it ?" asked Floret, eagerly. 
 
 * l Spare me, sometimes, if you can, some- 
 thing out of what has been given you in the 
 day to eat, and leave it at night on the table ; 
 and if you were to say that you were cold in 
 bed, and to ask for more covering, perhaps 
 they might give it to you, and I could borrow 
 it until just before dawn, then, perhaps, I might 
 get a little sleep, for the cold keeps me awake 
 nearly all night now." 
 
 > Floret's heart was full. She stretched out 
 her hand to the girl, and ehe said : 
 
 " Come closer to me." 
 
 The girl crept up by her aide, and took her 
 hand. A cold chill ran up the arm of Floret, 
 
 as the girl's thin, icy fingers touched hers ; 
 but she twined her arm round her neck, and 
 she whispered in her ear, as hot tears streamed 
 down her cheeks : 
 
 " We have both no parents, only God. He 
 will not desert us, and will not let theee peo- 
 ple kill us. No, no ; we will strive against 
 them. It is only for a time only for a time. 
 I shall be a lady some day a high, proud, 
 grand lady ; think of that. No ; they dare 
 not starve me, and they shall not you, for you 
 shall be my sister. Nay, we are sisters, for 
 are we not orphans ?" 
 
 Her new-found companion clung to her con- 
 vulsively, and wept upon her shoulder, almost 
 hysterically; but Floret, whispering to her, 
 and kissing her, soothed her, and persuaded 
 her to come into her bed with her. And then, 
 when she crept beneath the coverlet, she em- 
 braced her poor, thin, shivering frame, and 
 she made her place her wasted arms about her 
 neck, and BO, whispering and weeping, they 
 dropped off into a deep slumber. 
 
 Floret woke up as the sun's first rays were 
 darting into the window, but found that her 
 companion had disappeared. 
 
 She worked hard all that day, but was not 
 so bright as usual ; for she was full of thought. 
 She was reproved sharply, and staggered by 
 being informed that she would have to go to 
 bed gup peri ess. She had intended to save 
 that meal for her new friend. She implored 
 and entreated that it might be given to her, 
 but both sisters were inflexible ; and, to her 
 surprise, she feund old Blixenfinik harsh to 
 her. He told her that dullness must not go 
 unpunished. 
 
 She went out into the garden, and ran about 
 it wildly, in search of something which she 
 could take to her bed-room for her half starved 
 companion; but the only thing that she could 
 see was an apple, a windfall, lying beneath an 
 apple-tree. She had been cautioned not to 
 touch the windfalls, and she had promised not 
 to do so, but she stooped to pick this one up. 
 She, however, drew back. She remembered 
 her promise, wrung her hands, and determined 
 to return to Sycorax and A',e. and make one 
 more appeal to them to revoke their decision 
 to send her to bed supperless. 
 
 A voice arrested her step. She turned with 
 affright. It was old Blixenfinik. 
 
 He held out to her a large rosy apple. 
 
 " Take this," he said, in his short, curt way ; 
 " you are entitled to it. A struggle between 
 duty and inclination has taken place in your 
 mind, and duty has triumphed ; it should be 
 rewarded. In later days that struggle will be 
 resumed : it will be between passion and prin- 
 ciple. Give to principle the triumph, and you 
 shall surely be rewarded. Kemember the lea- 
 son ; it may some day be of value to you. 
 There, hide tbe apple, and away to bed with 
 you." 
 
 She looked wistfully in his face ; it seemed 
 kinder in its expression than she had ever be- 
 fore seen it. She kissed the tips of her fingers 
 to him, and hastened awav. 
 
OR, THE FATE OP THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 That night she lay awake until long after 
 darkness had set IB, but she was just dozing 
 when she felt a cold hand pass gently over her 
 fate. 
 
 She tittered an exclamation of terror, but 
 her companion of the previous night whis- 
 pered to her, reassured her, and then crept 
 into bed. Floret ga.va her the apple, which 
 she devoured with avidity ; and they lay af- 
 terward and talked in an undertone, until 
 sleep closed their eyelids. 
 
 It was strange that both girls preserved a 
 strict silence about the events of their early 
 life, and at the end of six months Floret knew 
 only that her nightly companion's name was 
 Ida. 
 
 Those six months passed away without any 
 change. Floret, who was called Edith, con- 
 tinued to progress even better than before ; for 
 she had still to provide her companion, Ida, 
 with supplementary food, and she was very 
 careful not to incur punishment, which would 
 deprive her of her evening meal. At the ex- 
 piration of that term, however, a remittance 
 for Ida arrived, and at the same time a new 
 pupil, with, perhaps, as sad a history as 
 either of those who had preceded her. The 
 receipt of the money, and a new pupil, un- 
 locked i Ida's prison-doors. She was permit- 
 ted to associate with the new pupil and with 
 Floret This event made Floret's everyday 
 life assume a less dreary form, until the two 
 sisters, Ale and Sjcorax curious in all their 
 actions conceived the idea that familiarity 
 of intercourse interfered with the pupils' 
 Btndies, and absorbed the time which ought to 
 be given to thought ; so they were seldom al- 
 lowed to speak to each other, and never to 
 walk in the garden, except singly. 
 
 The advertisement in the Times answered 
 its intended effect, for a fourth, fifth, and sixth 
 pupil arrived at the dreary old mansion, and 
 Floret was compelled to give up her kttle bed 
 to the newest comer, and, as Ida had predict- 
 ed, to lie upon a few pieces of carpet on the 
 floor. The meals, too, grew scantier, and she 
 gradually found that she had scarcely enough 
 given her to eat to sustain life, and none to 
 share with Ida, who, though her schoel-bill 
 had been paid, was but little more liberally 
 supplied than before. 
 
 One wretched year closed without further 
 ohahge. 
 
 A second wretched year, with a change only 
 for the worse, ensued. 
 
 Floret's habiliments were rapidly wearing 
 out, and she was as rapidly growing out of 
 them. She was in her fifteenth year now, and 
 bid fair to be tall, and she was undoubtedly 
 icraggy. 
 
 She had never received one word of com- 
 munication from any fc one, even from Liper 
 Leper, and she now comprehended keenly 
 enough the desolate nature of her situation. 
 
 Two years' severe application to study had 
 enabled her to acquire far more than many 
 who, older than herself, had given to it more 
 than six times the period she had been under 
 
 tuition. But she had devoted herself with ar- 
 dor to her task, and the result was even better 
 than she could have hoped for. Especially 
 had she applied herself to the study of music. 
 Ate* was very capable of teaching her, and she 
 not only practiced the manipulation of the 
 pianoforte keys with great perseverance, so as 
 to become a proficient player, but she studied 
 the principles of the art closely. 
 
 She had a motive : she wished to be abl 
 to write down the music of the song 
 " Oranges, sweet Oranges," and to play it i an 
 manner which would not only be remarkable 
 in itself, but which some day might create as 
 great a sensation as it had done on Ascot race- 
 course. 
 
 And she entered upon her next year's pro- 
 bation, but with a heavy heart ; for she was 
 pinched with want of food, and she hated the 
 shabby clothing, which she had herself alter- 
 ed so as to suit her increasing growth. She 
 began now to look, day after day, at the 
 money which Liper Leper had given her, and 
 to form plans to get away from the dreary old 
 mansion, and the people, who all, save Ida, 
 had become insupportable. 
 
 She began to sketch out plans for an escape. 
 She intended to disclose her purpose to Ida 
 only, and if she agreed to accompany her, to 
 take her with her. 
 
 Where? 
 
 Alas! for both, where? 
 
 To London. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Yet now despair itself is mild 
 
 Even as the wind and waters are; 
 I could lie down like a tired child, 
 
 And weep away the life of care 
 Which I have borne and yet mast bear, 
 
 Till death-like sleep shall steal on me, 
 And I ehall feel in the warm air 
 
 My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea 
 Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. 1 * 
 
 " Kiss me ! oh, thy lips are cold; 
 Round my neck thine arms enfold- 
 They are soft, but chill and dead; 
 And thy tears upon my head 
 Burn like the points of frozen lead." 
 
 MISKRT: A. 
 
 Floret entered upon her sixteenth year just 
 as the money which Hagar Lot had deposited 
 with the Sisters Ate and Sycorax Blixenfinik 
 was becoming a recollection. Not that Floret 
 knew that she had passed over her fifteenth 
 birthday. She was unacquainted with the an- 
 niversary of her natal day, and she did not 
 recollect how many winters had passed over 
 her head life, indeed, had seemed all winter 
 to her. She only knew and felt that she had 
 ceased to be a child, and that it was time she 
 shook off the thralldom of a school, the blight- 
 ing burden of a starving dependence, and began 
 to carve a path in the world for herself. 
 
 She undoubtedly inherited much of her mo- 
 ther's pride and firmness of character, no little 
 of her determination, and some of her willful- 
 ness, 
 
 The latter was a defect which had wrought 
 
BAGAR LOT ; 
 
 her mother the greatest tmhappiness ; and, un- 1 
 fortunately for Floret, the condition of life in 
 which she wan likely to be placed was of such 
 a nature that an indulgence of this mischievous 
 quality wold probably entail upon her ruin 
 and destruction. 
 
 To counterbalance it, she had, however, a 
 purely generous, sympathetic spirit, a high 
 sense of rectituJe, an elevated and refined 
 mind, and, withal, a purely innocent nature, 
 and soul free from any conscious sin. The ed- 
 ucation which she had acquired by a toil of 
 the severest character had done much to soften 
 down the rugged parts of her temperament, 
 which had been called into more prominent 
 action than they would have ever known, had 
 she lived a different life to that she had passed 
 while under the dominion of Daddy Windy ; 
 but there was still a rebellious tendency kept 
 up in her breast and brain by the harsh un- 
 kindnesa and the physical sufferings she was 
 compelled to endure while beneath the roof of 
 the Blixenfiniks, daughters and father. 
 
 We are justified in using that order, in speak 
 ing of these people, for the daughters having 
 become the support of the establishment, they 
 retaliated upon their once inflexible father. 
 He had enforced upon them, during their child- 
 hood, a harsh, merciless, abstinent discipline, 
 and they now retorted upon him by shrilly 
 talkiBg him back into his study whenever he 
 came forth, and by feeding him upon the anti- 
 cipation of a meal rather than on the meal it- 
 self. He had delighted occasionally, when 
 they were famished with hunger, in showing 
 to them a slice of currant-cake, fruit, some- 
 times wine, and in giving them a long lesson 
 to learn in lieu of the delicacies. They made 
 him their Tantalus now ; for if ever they showed 
 to bim some tempting dainty, they regaled him 
 only with a raw turnip. They were now his 
 Fates he called them his Furise ; but they 
 were equally the merciless Fates of their pu- 
 pils, for they ruled them, too, with a rod of 
 i?on. 
 
 Starvation and beating, during the whole of 
 their progrens from infancy to womanhood, had 
 rendered them savage and spiteful, and seemed 
 to have created an instinctive yearning to re 
 taliate upon others what they had suffered 
 themselves. They appeared to feel a malicious 
 pleasure in birching the elements of knowledge 
 into their pupils, and in striving to discover 
 where the line between starvation and mere ex- 
 istence could be drawn, Alas ! if success in 
 such an investigation entitled them to self- con- 
 gratulation, they might have complimented 
 themselves amid the silent curses of their lean, 
 haggard, wo-begone pupils. 
 
 Floret had experienced many hardships while 
 with Daddy Windy ; but the life she led at 
 TJgglebarnby was in several degrees yet harder. 
 Certainly, ehe had a roof over her head ; she 
 had not to follow an eleemosynary occupation 
 though it might justly be said that she was 
 herself an eleemosynary still but she had to 
 starve on the hardest fare, and go clad in 
 patched, faded, and snanty habiliments. 
 
 The Misses Blixenfinik performed their > 
 labors as eohoolmistressea to their pupils very 
 completely; for, possessing an extensive and 
 varied amount of knowledge, they imparted 
 it, or as much of it as was possible, to their 
 pupils; they not only crammed them thor- 
 oughly, but so effectually, that their pupils 
 could not possibly afterward forget what they 
 had beea taught. 
 
 This was no conscientious discharge of their 
 professional duties, but it arose from a ma- 
 lignant desire to make the poor, helpless 
 creatures, who were intrusted to their care, 
 suffer similar miseries to those which they had 
 beeu compelled themselves to endure when 
 they were young and helpless, and likewise to 
 enable them to realize annuities for both by an 
 enforced " rigid" system of economy. 
 
 Floret, as she progressed, formed a just con- 
 ception of what she had to acquire by what 
 she had mastered, and she struggled bravely 
 and enduringly on, in the hop that, by the 
 ] oration of the term Liper Leper had named, 
 ohe should be able to turn her back on Uggle- 
 jarnby House, and be able to earn a livelihood 
 free from all further dependence upoii any one 
 like Hatty Marr had done. 
 
 With this hope burning ever brightly before 
 juer, she worked her brain until it ached with 
 over-exertion. She endured the scantiest and 
 most wretched fare without a murmur ; she 
 submitted patiently to petulance, to shrewish 
 scoldings, to all but the exercise of the bireh 
 rod. 
 
 A grand scene occurred one day, when the 
 Sister Sycorax, in a fit of malignity, attempted 
 to strike her with the rod over the shoulders. 
 Floret snatched it from her hand, tore it to 
 shreds, broke some crockery, prized because 
 the quantity in the household was seriously 
 sparse, and gave way to an ebullition ol frantia 
 anger, which she en<*ed by rushing into the 
 garden and secreting herself there until long 
 after sun-down. 
 
 She frightened Ate* and Sycorax out of at- 
 tempting to employ the rod in correcting her 
 again, not, perhaps, that they cared for her pao- 
 sion, or for her hiding herself away, but be- 
 cause, in such another fit, ehe might destroy 
 more crockery, and, perhaps, something more 
 valuable still. But they never afterward for- 
 got or forgave her conduct. 
 
 The result to Floret was incessant misery. 
 In her cloudy gloomy daily life no stnshine 
 penetrated even for a moment. She rose at 
 daybreak to labor, and to test the necessity of 
 food to sustain life by the miserable quantity 
 doled out to her, by the eojoyment with which 
 she sometimes devoured a hard, almost mouldy 
 crust, by the exquisite flavour which a peeled, 
 uncooked turnip seemed on tasting it, and tiie 
 keen relish with which she devoured it, when- 
 ever Ida contrived to obtain one by some 
 species of necroman%y, and divided it between 
 them in the dark hours after sundown. 
 
 All day it was mental toil; at night, a species t 
 of jaded, harassed sleep. There was no* 
 change. No one, during the whole time she 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 41 
 
 had been at Ugglebarnby House, had made a 
 solitary inquiry respecting her not the 
 strange gipsy woman who conveyed her there, 
 nor Liper Leper, nor the lady in whose beauti- 
 ful house she had been BO carefully tended 
 When iH of that sharp fever. 
 
 JTor by Hatty Marr, nor by Mamma Atten, 
 Dt>,not by one living, breathing being. 
 
 It would almost have been a relief to the 
 monotony of her miserable life if Baddy 
 Windy had broken in once more upon her, 
 and had attempted to drag her away. 
 
 The Misses Blixenfinik had often taunted 
 her with her isolated, deserted condition, and 
 she had to submit to those sneers in silence, 
 for' she w%s utterly without reply utterly. 
 Poor girl, nhe felt her condition acutely, and 
 would often pray for that long, long sleep in 
 which it is presumed that the bitter miseries of 
 this world are all forgotten. 
 
 When the three years for which Hagar Lot 
 had paid for in advance were on the ere of ex- 
 piration, and there was still no sign of any 
 communication from those who kad placed 
 her there, the sisters commenced playing the 
 parts of the Furise in earnest. 
 
 They nearly doubled her, work, so that she 
 was engaged from dawn to dark, and they 
 commenced further limiting the already in- 
 sufficient quantity of food with which she was 
 daily supplied, while their remarks to her were 
 
 Then she went carefully over the accomp- 
 lishments she now possessed. She was mis- 
 tress of her own language, of the history of 
 her nation and of others ; she was not only 
 an excellent arithmetician, but a fair mathe- 
 matician. She had no mean knowledge of 
 the classics. She could speak and read 
 French and Italian, and could read and 
 translate German and Spanish tolerably. She 
 could draw prettily. She had mastered all 
 the elements which would make her an excel- 
 lent musician, and a finished performer on 
 the pianoforte, for Miss Ate Blixenfinik was 
 an able teacher, and she was an apt pupil. 
 She was passionately fond of music, and she 
 had worked very hard for three years at the 
 study, and had never missed, for one day, her 
 three hours' practice. In short, she found 
 herself to be far more advanced in most of the 
 branches of education than she had imagined 
 herself to be, and, as she believed, she was 
 sufficiently well grounded in knowledge to 
 now take the step which she had locg medi- 
 tated. 
 
 By the aid of the money which Liper Leper 
 had placed in her hands, she resolved to find 
 her way to London, and, when there, to seek 
 out Susan Atten. She did not suppose that 
 she should meet with any difficulty in discov- 
 ering her, and, when she had succeeded in do- 
 ing that, she believed that the remainder of 
 task would be easy. 
 
 Sh feared, however, strange to say, at- 
 tempting this feat alone. Naturally self pos- 
 sessed, self-reliant, and resolute, she yet 
 readd to undertake her flight without a com- 
 
 panion. This apprehension arose from sheer 
 nervous weakness. The low scale of diet on 
 which she had been kept had robbed her of 
 powers which she would readily have exhibit- 
 ed, if her physical strength had been sustained 
 by proper food, and enough of it. 
 
 But it was not an easy matter to obtain 
 some one upon whom she could rely to ac- 
 company her in her flight. When she first 
 decided to make her way to London, her mind 
 reverted at once to her schoolfellow, Ida, aa 
 her companion ; but her education had made 
 her reflective, and she considered, with no 
 little anxiety and uneasiness, how far she 
 should be justified in inducing Ida to leave the 
 school. 
 
 She knew that she was miserable, and, like 
 herself, an orphan; but probably she had 
 some friends who might be deeply grieved 
 and offended if she were to take any such step, 
 and any harm should befall her. Indeed, 
 Floret felt that she should be grieved, too, if, 
 after having prevailed upon her to join her in 
 her flight from the horrors of Blixenfinik 
 House, Ida met with any misfortune, which, 
 perhaps, could not be repaired. So, after 
 long and anxious consideration, she nerved 
 herself to face the difficulties of her task, and 
 resolved to dare the exploit alone. 
 
 Under the pretence of sketching from na- 
 ture, and making an offer to forego her supper, 
 she obtained leave to proceed to the mound, 
 at the farther end of the garden, one evening 
 an hour before sundown. 
 
 Here she resolved to look attentively at the 
 landscape beneath her, and endeavor to mark 
 out a track which would be best for her to 
 take Deleaving the Blixenfinik mansion. She 
 knew that she would have to depart in dark- 
 ness, but she hoped that, by noting down the 
 direction it would be advisable to take, she 
 would be able to follow it by the position of 
 the stars, if the sky should happen to be clear ; 
 and certainly she did not intend to venture un- 
 less it happened to be so. 
 
 While seated alone, contemplating the tum- 
 bling waves of the turbid North Sea, and cogi- 
 tating deeply upon her probable future, she 
 felt a cold hand steal round her neck. She 
 uttered a half-suppressed scream, and turned 
 to see who it was who had touched her. 
 
 It was Ida. Ida, with a pale, almost livid, 
 face. Ida, with streaming eyes and knitted 
 brows, which had, in their expression, a mean- 
 ing of a very desperate character. 
 
 " Do not you shrink from me, Edith," she 
 sobbed, in a faint and feeble tone ; " I have 
 only come to bid you farewell a long, long 
 farewell." 
 
 Floret started, and looked earnestly at her. 
 
 " Are you going away ?" she inquired, in a 
 quick, eager voice. 
 
 " I am !" answered Ida, bowing her head, 
 and covering her face with her hands. 
 
 " When ?" interrogated Floret, earnestly. 
 
 "To-night!" muttered Ida, between hei 
 compressed lips. "To-night!" she repeated, 
 in a strange tone ; " to-night !" 
 
HAGAK LOT ; 
 
 "To-night!" echoed Floret, with surprise ; 
 " whither are you going, Ida?" 
 
 " To Heaven, if it will receive me I" cried 
 Ida, clutching Floret's hand, and speaking 
 with a passionate energy ; " if not, to perdi- 
 tion I care not where, BO that it is out of this 
 hateful world." 
 
 "In the name of mercy, what do yon con- 
 template ?" gasped Floret, her wan face grow- 
 ing yet whiter. 
 
 " Death, Edith ! death !" responded Ida, 
 wringing her hand convulsively. " I will not 
 live any longer in this horrible world." 
 
 " O, Ida, Ida ! what has happened to make 
 you utter those terrible words ?" cried Floret, 
 agitatedly. 
 
 Ida moved her head nearer to her, and 
 turned her thin, flushed face up to hers. She 
 bent he : burning, black eyes upon her, wildly, 
 and, in a hissing whisper, said : 
 
 "They have been flogging me, Edith 
 flogging me. I, who am a woman grown a 
 woman in feeling, heart, and in self-respect. 
 Those slow murderers, Ate* and Sycorax, fast- 
 ened upon me a fault I had not committed, 
 and, to save the few crumbs which they ought 
 to have doled out to me, they affected anger 
 rage. Ate* seized me, and held me tightly, 
 while Sycorax lashed me, with a birchen rod, 
 about the shoulders. Look, Edith, look here 
 are the weals." 
 
 She raised the thin, worn sleeves of her 
 frock, and displayed her poor skeleton arms, 
 scored by many a livid mark. 
 Florei shuddered. 
 
 " I would not have submitted to the infa- 
 mous indignity!" she exclaimed, indignant- 
 ly- 
 
 " O Edith !" returned Ida, hysterically, " I 
 struggled with them, but I have no strength ; 
 I am starving, and I was wholly powerless in 
 the hands of the fiend, Sycorax. I fainted, 
 and I know not how long I remained in that 
 condition ; but I awoke in oar loathsome 
 sleeping den, and found my hair, face, and 
 neck, saturated, as you see, with water. You 
 were not in the room, and, defying all they 
 may attempt to inflict upon me now, I have 
 come in search of you, to bid you farewell for- 
 ever you, Edith, who alone have spoken a 
 kind word to me who alone have looked ten- 
 derly upon me. May God bless you, Edith, 
 and remove you soon from hence. As for me, 
 I can no longer endure the struggle. Life is 
 insupportable to me it is torture, inexpressi- 
 ble torture, to me I must end it. 0, Edith, 
 I am hopeless wholly hopeless and this 
 night I will end my wretched life, for I am an 
 outcast and friendlessutterly friendless." 
 
 Floret twined her arms hastily about her 
 neck, and drew her weeping face to her own 
 bosom. 
 
 Twice, thrice, half a dozen times she tried 
 to speak to her ; but she, too, was weak from 
 long fasting, was easily moved to tears, and, 
 in spite of her effort, was unable to restrain a 
 wild gush of bitter emotion. 
 At length, she obtained something like self- 
 
 control, and she whispered to her thin, trem- 
 bling, miserable companion : 
 
 " Not friendless, Ida not utterly friendless ; 
 for I will be your friend, if you will have me 
 for one." 
 
 Ida wrung her hands ; she raised her lips 
 and kissed Floret's, and, clinging closer to her, 
 she murmured : 
 
 "Ah, yes! I know your tender, sympa- 
 thetic heart, Edith ; but you are powerless to 
 help me, even as I am to aid you. I haye 
 nothing to look forward to but misery, wretch- 
 ednesssomething, though I can give it no 
 shape, which I dread to encounter. It will be 
 easier to die than to face it. And you, dear 
 Edith, in how much is your position better 
 han mine ? 1 let us die together, and end 
 this dreadful, lingering torment, whicb is coa- 
 ducting us both to the same goal, but by ilow- 
 er and more excrutiating torture !" 
 
 Floret had often contemplated fastening 
 upon her own life, and destroying it. Now 
 that the act was brought, with startling vivid- 
 ity, before her by another, she shrunk from 
 it with a species of horror. Contemplated at 
 a distance, it was an alternative which she had 
 considered that she was not only justly enti- 
 tled to use, but that it would be wisdom to 
 adopt it. She thought differently now. 
 
 She pressed Ida yet closer to her bosom, and 
 whispered to her : 
 
 " No, Ida, dear, you must not make any at- 
 tempt upon your life. Any deed that bears 
 the dreadful name of murder must be a crime ; 
 and the act you contemplate is called self. 
 murder ' : 
 
 " Dear Edith, do not, I entreat you, reason 
 with me !" interposed Ida, earnestly. 
 
 But Floret placed her attenuated, trans- 
 parent fingers before her mouth, and whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " Let me speak ! You shall, Ida, bid fare- 
 well to this dismal abode, and to its fiendish 
 mistress, to-night, but not by the means you 
 propose." 
 
 " By what means ?" inquired Ida, eagerly. 
 " Listen !" continued Floret. " I, like you, 
 I suppose, do not know who I am, or who the 
 people are who placed me here ; but I have a 
 friend, of whom I know nothing, save that he 
 is a friend, who parted with me in this garden 
 three years ado. He prophesied that a time 
 would come when I should wish to escape from 
 this dreadful prison, and he told me that I 
 could not do so unless I had money. He gave 
 me money, which I have kept in secret and sa- 
 cred safety ever since. The time has come, 
 Ida, when to fly from this starvation becomes 
 a duty I mean to do so to-night We have 
 endured together great misery, Ida ; I do not 
 think it possible we can meet with worse ; but 
 if you will freely and voluntarily share my fu- 
 ture with me, we will escape from the Furise 
 to-night." 
 
 Ida, who had hung tremblingly on every 
 word that left Floret's lips, now fall on her 
 knees before her. She clasped them ; ehe 
 kissed her hands even her garments. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 43 
 
 " I will go with you to the end of the world," 
 she said, with streaming eyes. "O, take me 
 with you, Edith, in common charity, in mercy ! 
 If I had risen up at tomorrow's dawn, and 
 found that you had fled without me, I should 
 have fallen down dead. You will take me with 
 you, Edith ? Dear Edith, you will not go away 
 and leave me here to drain down a draught of 
 poison, or to fling myself down a deep well in 
 the kitchen-garden, with a reproach at your 
 unkindness upon my lips you will not ?" 
 
 "You will go with me, Ida," answered Flor- 
 et; '* but you must be very circumspect " 
 
 " Hush'!" exclaimed Ida, suddenly, in a very 
 low tone. " My hearing is very acute I hear 
 a footstep approaching." 
 
 The words had barely quitted her lips, when 
 the form of Miss Sycorax appeared upon the 
 grass and weed-covered walks. 
 
 She was looking cautiously about her, but 
 the moment she caught sight of Floret, with 
 Ida crouching at her feet, ahe increased her 
 pace to a very nimble run. 
 
 She made a dash like a tigress at Ida, but 
 Floret rose up and stood between them. 
 
 She thrust Miss Sycorax Blixeafinik back. 
 Her wondrous spirit alone gave her the 
 trength to do it. 
 
 " Respect your own position, Madam," she 
 exclaimed, in a firm and dignified tone, " and 
 you will command respect; at present, you 
 only inspire fear and hate." 
 
 Miss Sycorax gazed at her with unqualified 
 surprise. Having constantly received from 
 Floret a kind of dull, passive obedience, she 
 was not a little startled by the commanding 
 manner in which she addressed her, and the 
 haughty bearing she assumed. 
 
 At first she remained speechless, and then 
 she said, with a face white with rage : 
 
 " Permit me to suggest to you that it will 
 be unwise in you to interfere. Retnrn to the 
 house ; take back with you your drawing-uten- 
 sils, and retire to your sleeping-apartment. I 
 shall know how to deal with you by and by." 
 
 " And I with you, Madam, if you overstep 
 the boundaries of your position,'' replied Flo- 
 ret, coldly but firmly. "I am acquainted 
 with mine, and, while I do nothing to forfeit 
 my own sense of self-respect, I will suffer no 
 one to abuse " 
 
 " You have begun to play the fane lady 
 somewhat prematurely," interrupted the wnth- 
 ful Sycorax, with apparent polite calmness, al- 
 though she trembled with rage ; " but you will 
 very shortly, in all probability, have to beg 
 for your bread and butter. A few days, and 
 the term for which we have been paid for your 
 liberal education and board will have terminat- 
 ed. Since no one has made a single inquiry 
 respecting you during your sojourn here, you 
 will, no doubt, have to be thrust forth by us, 
 be confined in a workhouse, and eventually die 
 upon a dunghill." 
 
 " You are trying to make us die before we 
 can reach any place to take our last repose in," 
 exclaimed Ida, gathering spirit from Floret's 
 demeanor. " I do fervently hope that yow will 
 
 end your days on a spot very much less salu- 
 brious than the one you have named." 
 
 " I will not interchange words with you," 
 cried the Sister Sycorax, grating her teeth ma. 
 ignantly. "You have thought proper to 
 leave your chamber, in which you were or- 
 dered to remain, and you shall pass the re- 
 mainder of this night!" and the whole of to- 
 morrow, in the dark vault, sucking your 
 thumbs ; for nothing else, I vow, shall touch 
 your^lips, unless it be a bat, a spider, or a 
 
 Ida uttered a cry of fright. 
 
 " I will not go," she said, with expanded eye- 
 lids and chattering of teeth. 
 
 ' We will soon test that," exclaimed the an- 
 tique maiden Sycorax, exhibiting her teeth 
 after the unattractive manner of a tigress in 
 anger. 
 
 She made another dash at Ida, but Floret 
 once more interveaed. 
 
 " She shall not go !" she exclaimed, spirit- 
 
 !1 " " That horrible vault is not fit for a hu- 
 
 man creature to step into, far less to remain in. 
 Woman, you are a schoolmistress, but not an 
 irresponsible tyrant. She shall not go. My 
 blood is up now, and I will not suffer you to 
 drag her Jfchither without doing all in my power 
 to resist you." 
 
 "Ha! ha!" laughed Sycorax, deliriously; 
 " ho ! ho I" she grinned, spasmodically ; " he ! 
 he ! We are in a state of mutiny we are in 
 open rebellion. The whole establishment is, 
 for all I know, on the eve of an insurrection. 
 Minion ! kinless ! nameless I rebel in the vault, 
 you shall obey us here !" 
 
 "We will obey you no longer anywhere!" 
 exclaimed Ida, holding her clenched hands to- 
 ward her, and speaking with desperate deter- 
 mination. "You have starved me on to the 
 confines of death, you have tried by the lash 
 to drive me into its jaws I will endure no 
 more. I will fly from you, but I leave you my 
 curse ! You shall not close your eyes but you 
 shall see niy emaciated, wasted form before 
 your eyes. If I die in nay flight from you oi 
 exhaustion, as I fear I must, my gaunt shadowy 
 phantom shall come to your bedside at night, 
 and harry you with shrieks and cries, bidding 
 you despair, for there will be no hope for you 
 here or hereafter. Henceforth I will haunt 
 you like a spectre!" 
 
 " This is too much I" cried Sycorax, with a 
 wild howl. "You sisters in rebellion shall 
 entertain yourselves in the vaults to-night. 
 You shall both pass twenty-four hours in them, 
 There is one cell for each, and, no doubt, be- 
 fore they have run out, you will be humble 
 enough to beg for mercy and leniency. I will 
 go and fetch Atd, and other assistance. We 
 will speedily lock you up, in spite of youff 
 struggles and promisee to behave better for 
 the future. Ate 1 Sister Att I Ai6 1 Ate* !" she 
 called, shrilly, and ran in the direction of the 
 house. 
 
 Floret caught hold of Ida's wrist, and point- 
 ed to the gloomy fire in the distance. 
 
 " Not a word to me, Ida," she said, in a 
 
. 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 quick undertone, " but take the path to the 
 left. There is a channel in the undergrowth 
 along which you can easily pass ; it leads to 
 the base of the hill. At the bottom you will 
 find three routes. The right-hand path ap- 
 pears to double back to the garden. On the 
 contrary, it will conduct you by a near way to 
 the black firs; proceed along it until you 
 reach them ; hide yourself among them any- 
 where there without dread. There will be 
 nothing there more eyil thaa your thoughts or 
 your hopes to harm you, so have no fear. I 
 will follow you when night has set in. I will 
 elap my hands thrice when I reach the entrance 
 of the plantation. Do not move until you 
 hear that sound, then come forth and join me. 
 Quick, Ida, away with you, or they will be 
 back here to seize you. and I shall not be able 
 to defend you." 
 
 Ida twined her arms about Floret, with a 
 moaning cry, and kissed her passionately. 
 Then ehe hurried down the path to the left, 
 and was almost instantly out of sight. 
 
 Floret stood still and listened ; her heart 
 beat violently ; she heard Ida's foot pressing 
 on the dried twigs, and cracking them as she 
 moved onward. Bhe knew that she was very 
 feeble, and she feared that she would not be 
 able to get far enough away before the sisters 
 and their assistants arrived and discovered the 
 path she had taken, and she trembled so exces- 
 sively that she was obliged to cling to the 
 branch of a tree for support. 
 
 But the sound of Ida's retreating footsteps 
 died on her ear, and they ceased entirely as the 
 rapid beat of feet in the opposite direction arose 
 in the still air. 
 
 She knew by those sounds that the enemy 
 was at hand, and she seemed to gather strength 
 from the knowledge. 
 
 She drew herself up erect, and standing 
 proudly, firmly awaited the arrival of the 
 
 Pale and wasted as she was, attenuated al 
 most to a shadow, with garment! thin and poor 
 clinging to her form as closely, and falling as 
 gracefully as the drapery upon the maidens 
 who have sprung from the magic chisels of the 
 old Greek sculptors, she yet looked strikingly 
 ommanding, and wondrously beautiful. 
 
 She was as tall as she was almost ever likely 
 to be ; fairer, it was not possible to be ; more ex 
 quisitely formed, she could not be ; and poor 
 though she was, duchess though she might 
 be, she could not have looked loftier or more 
 dignified than she did at that moment. 
 
 She turned her large lustrous blue eyes, glit- 
 tering and stern, toward the direction in which 
 she heard the sounds of advancing feet. She 
 for a moment only seemed to hear some words 
 breathed in her ear by the voice of Liper 
 Leper. 
 
 She started, shrunk back, but the emotion 
 was only momentary, she immediately recov 
 ered her self-possession, and stood expectantly 
 as before. 
 
 She was not long in suspense. Sister Syco- 
 r*x quickly made jher appearance, rod in hand, 
 
 and panting for breath. She was closely fol- 
 lowed by Ate', who carried in her hand a small 
 hank of cord, which was about the thickness of 
 her little finger. They were gyves for Ida and 
 Floret. Behind them came the pupils, gliding 
 to the spot like a band of famine-stricken spec- 
 tres who had died of starvation. 
 
 The two sisters glared round for Ida, and 
 then fastened their ID flamed eyes upon Floret, 
 who stood calm and motionless. 
 
 The pupils turned, too, their large hollow 
 eyes upon Floret, and silently ranged them- 
 selves round her. 
 
 For a minute not a word was spoken. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 " Thou poor pale piece 
 
 Of outcast earth in darkness ! What a change 
 From yesterday ! Thy darling hope so near 
 (Long-labored prize), O how ambition fiush'd 
 Thy glowing cheek ! ambition truly great, 
 Of virtuous praise * * * 
 (Sly, treacherous miner !) working in the darky 
 Smil'd at thy well concerted scheme." 
 
 LIFB,DKATII, AND IMMOBILITY* 
 
 Sister Sycorax was the first to break the mo- 
 mentous silence. 
 
 She shook the rod and her clenched fiat in 
 Floret's face. 
 
 Floret knitted her brow, and compressed her 
 lips, but did not answer. 
 
 " Speak, you disaffected, disloyal, abandon- 
 ed pervert," cried Ate*, maliciously. 
 
 " Seek, her," replied Floret, apparently un- 
 moved by the wrathful, threatening coun- 
 tenances of the two sisters. " You will find 
 her quicker and more easily than you will ex- 
 tort from me whither she has gone." 
 
 " Speak, or I'll strike you to the earth with 
 this rod," cried Sycorax, passionately. 
 
 Floret raised her finger warning ly. 
 
 " Beware how you approach that denying 
 weapon too closely to rne," she said, sternly. 
 <4 You once attempted the act ; you afterward 
 repented it. If you move it so near to me that 
 but one spray of it touches my dress, I will 
 turn upon you and sting you as fatally as would 
 an adder." . 
 
 Atd threw up her hands, and flourished the 
 cords about wildly. 
 
 "You will do what?" exclaimed Sycerax 
 taking a firmer grasp of the rod, and sidling 
 up toward her. 
 
 44 Use this weapon !" returned Floret, sharp- 
 ly, between her set teeth. 
 
 She drew forth swiftly from her bosom the 
 poniard which Liper Leper had given to her. 
 She had worn it where she could instantly 
 reach it night and day since she had received 
 it from him. She whipped off the sheath, and 
 held it up firmly, grasping the handle, to the 
 view of Sycorax. 
 
 " Its point is tipped with a subtle poison, 
 and a scratch from it proves inevitably fatal," 
 she subjoined. " Will you dere, woman of 
 the r reiless heart, to test it ?" 
 
 Sycorai retreated hastily peveral s^eps. 
 
 <k Wretch !" she screamed, " would you com- 
 mit murder ?" 
 
 " I will at any cost or sacrifice exact my r$- 
 
OR. THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 45 
 
 venge if you inflict upon me a blow, however 
 slight, with that weapon, if your intent be to 
 punish or to degrade me," returned Floret, 
 resolutely. 
 
 " You will be hanged, monster !" cried Ate, 
 with a rapid, nervous twitching of the nose, 
 and a swift blinking of the eyes. 
 
 The lip of Floret curled scornfully and de- 
 risively. 
 
 " That would be a less degradation to me 
 than to bear the humiliation of a blow from 
 that bundle of withes, the contact of any one 
 of which is an insult which nothing can wash 
 out. As a child, it might not have wounded 
 my pride ; as a woman, I will resent it at teh 
 cost of my life." 
 
 " A woman?" sneered Ate*, with a curiously- 
 empty laugh, but betraying a very wholesome 
 fear that she would keep her word if either of 
 them struck her " a woman ! The creature 
 is deranged. Leave her, my precious Psyche" 
 that was Ate's endearing abbreviation of 
 Sycorax " leave her, my soul, my butterfly, 
 and let us search for the oti*er rebel. We shall 
 find her hidden somewhere in the garden, I 
 am sure, and when we have safely disposed of 
 her, we shall find a way to manage this dread- 
 ful creature. Hasten, Psyche! come birds, 
 come chicks, we will soon net the naughty fly- 
 away!" 
 
 80 saying, she, keeping somewhat wide of 
 Floret's reach, hastened up the garden. 
 
 Sycorax shook rod and hand at Floret, and 
 foamed at the mouth. 
 
 "Wait until you sleep, vixen," she cried, 
 between her teeth ; " I'll bind you hand and 
 feet, take your murderous plaything from you, 
 and flay the devil out of your dainty limbs, I 
 will I will !" 
 
 She moved off after her sister as she spoke, 
 and made a wide circuit, too, round Floret ; 
 for she did not like the look of her eyes, they 
 were fixed so steadfastly upon her, and they 
 glittered eo brightly. 
 
 The chicks, the birds by which fond name 
 Ate* meait her starved, ill- treated pupils 
 followed the eieters ; but they looked piteous- 
 ly on Floret as they moved away. 
 
 Ono clasped her hands, acd muttered : 
 
 ' O Edith ! do not continue perverse ! Fall 
 upon your knees, and implore pardon, or they 
 will kill you I" 
 
 Floret unknitted her brow; but she only 
 said: 
 
 " Pray for me !" 
 
 " I will I will !" muttered the girl, as she 
 glided away 
 
 " I will for you," responded Floret, solilo- 
 quizing ; " Heaven knows that if you remain 
 here you will have need of my prayers !" 
 
 She, too, then hastened from the spot, and 
 entered the house with a swift, light step. 
 
 She proceeded to the chamber, which by a 
 fiction was termed hers, and selected some 
 necet-sary clothing, both of her own and Ida's. 
 She put on her brown beaver hat, and her 
 cloak ; she secrete^ beneath her cloak Ida'r 
 hat, adorned, like her own, with a soiled white 
 
 ostrich feather, once a handsome plume, and 
 she wore her mantle over her own. She made 
 up all she wished to take away with her into 
 two bundles ; they were not large ones, be it 
 understood she was not, nor was Ida, suffi- 
 ciently well provided with attire for that but 
 they contained everything likely to be of uae 
 to her and to Ida, and to enable "them to reach 
 London without being absolutely distressed for 
 a change. 
 
 This done, she began to concert measures 
 by which she could escape from the house un- 
 seen. 
 
 Old Blixenfinik was, she knew, in his study, 
 poring over an old Latin MS., sent to him for 
 translation by a neighboring clergyman. The 
 woman who attended to the hardest portion oi 
 the household duties had departed from the 
 house, and was on her way home. The old 
 mansion appeared silent and deserted, for the 
 Furiffl were yet beating the rank undergrowth 
 in the garden, expecting to find the trembling 
 hare of which they were in search of cowering 
 beneath one of the bushes, half-dead with 
 terror. 
 
 Floret, with her money, and her poniard in 
 the bosom of her dress, and a bundle in each 
 hand, glided down the stairs like a phantom. 
 
 As she reached the hall, *he, to her diemay, 
 saw, advancing toward her along the passage, 
 with out-stretched hands, old Blixenfinik. He 
 was calling out, alt bough in feeble tones : 
 
 " Stop her ! stop her 1" 
 
 Bhe retreated up a few of the stairs again 
 hastily and in affright but, to her relief, she 
 saw him hurry past her, and almost imme- 
 diately she discovered that he was in pursuit 
 of a lean anatomy of a cat, which having un- 
 expectedly perceived an opportunity of steal- 
 ing Lis supper, had pounced upon it, and 
 made off with it. 
 
 Again she descended to the hall, and glided 
 out of the house into the garden, hoping, by 
 crouching down and crawling stealthily be- 
 neath the bushes, to escape observation, and 
 join Ida before her departure could be dis- 
 covered. 
 
 But again she was doomed to the peril of 
 being detected in her flight, for while creeping 
 along the bramble- covered pathway, she sud- 
 denly heard the sisters Sycorax and Ate* ad- 
 vancing, beating the bushes, in her direction. 
 
 She saw that there was no possibility oi 
 escape. If she attempted to gain the path 
 leading to the plantation of firs, she could not 
 do eo wiikout being seen ; if she endeavored to 
 reach the bouse again, it would be at the 
 price of certain discovery. 
 
 She instantly forced her way beneath a 
 huge } wide-spread in g holly-tree, and lay there, 
 flat to the t arth, and perfectly motionlees. Hei 
 heart almost stayed is beating, and she felt as 
 if she were dying, when Dame Sycorax stopped 
 a few feet from the hollj-bueh, and cried 
 aloud : 
 
 *' She cp.n't be far off now ! Search well, 
 girls; cre<;;> beneath the bushes! A good 
 supper to- * rlf breakfast, and a 
 
16 
 
 > HAtfAR LOT ; 
 
 whole holiday to her who unkennels the de- 
 linquent! ' 
 
 "Floret heard the crashing of the bushes, 
 the beating of the leaves, the trampling of the 
 grass, as the circling searchers drew nearer 
 and nearer to her. 
 
 She experienced a faint, cold, deathly numb- 
 ness steal over her. She exerted herself 
 not to let even her breathing be heard ; yet 
 she felt every moment as if she must shriek 
 aloud. 
 
 What her sensation was, on suddenly feel- 
 ing a hand laid upon her shoulder, and on 
 raising her head, beholding a pair of large, 
 dark, glittering eyes glaring into her own, 
 must be imagined ; it is impossible to describe 
 it. But ae the near approach of certain death 
 is more terrible than death itself, so, perhaps, 
 the imminence of discovery wan more frightful 
 to Floret than probably actual discovery 
 would have been. 
 
 n an instant she recognized the school 
 fellow who had advised her to yield, and im- 
 plore for mercy. 
 
 "Do not betray me!" she murmured, im- 
 pulsively and beseechingly. 
 
 " I will not P returned the hollow-eyed girl. 
 " Are you going to run away ?" 
 
 " I am !" muttered Floret, 
 
 " I pray that you may get safely away !" 
 she whispered, in the faintest tone. " I am to 
 be taken away to-morrow, thank God ! Good 
 bye for ever !" 
 
 A moment more she crawled out from be- 
 neath the holly-bush. Sycorax watched her as 
 she rose up. 
 
 " Well," she exclaimed, interrogatively. 
 
 " She is not here !" replied the girl. 
 
 " Aha !" cried Sycorax, placing her hand on 
 the holly leaves. " I thought I heard you 
 muttering," 
 
 $ " You did," she returned composedly. " I 
 disturbed a large black snake, which glided 
 toward your feet. I thought you could not 
 fail to see it." 
 
 " Yah !" screeched Miss Sycorax, and bound- 
 ed from the spot." 
 
 The girl followed her, saying : 
 
 " I have no doubt, Miss Sycorax, you will 
 find Ida in her room. She has most likely got 
 there by this time, and has hidden herself in a 
 cupboard or some other secret place." 
 
 Miss Sycorax muttered something in reply, 
 but Floret did not catch what. The voices, 
 however, died away, and the sounds soon 
 ceased altogether. 
 
 By that she knew that the searching-party 
 had returned to the house, and she crept forth 
 from her lurking place. 
 
 The sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and 
 the sky was becoming violet-tinted. It was 
 very clear, and the night promised, when the 
 moon rose, to be singularly bright. But she 
 had no wish to remain in the vicinity of Uggle- 
 barnby House until it was broad moonlight 
 She, therefore, hurried along the path she had 
 pointed out to Ida, and she paused not, though 
 she panted much a&d felt greatly fatigued, 
 
 ntil she reached the plantation- of the black 
 fira- 
 
 She shivered as she cast her eyes into its 
 I gloomy depths ; an active imagination instant- 
 ly set to work to people them with intangible 
 forms. Then, too, the place was so eilent. No 
 human creature could surely be hidden away 
 in any part of it. Probably Ida had wanted 
 strength to reach there perhaps had perished 
 on her way. The thought struck her painfully, 
 and made her future prospects appear more 
 lonely and dreary than they had yet seemed 
 to her. 
 
 But she made a struggle to reassure herself. 
 She placed the two bundles upon the turf, and 
 she clapped her hands sharply thrice. 
 
 A figure rose up almost at her feet, so sud- 
 denly that she screamed with fright. 
 
 But the next moment she felt herself em- 
 braced, and she heard Ida's soft voice breathe 
 in her ear : 
 
 " Dear, dear Edith, I am so overjoyed that 
 you have come at last ; I have been almost 
 dead with terror since I have been here." 
 
 Floret returned her embrace with unfeigned 
 pleasure. She then hastily divested herself of 
 her supernumerary cloak, and handed it to 
 Ida, with her hat. The latter quickly attired 
 herself, seized one of the bundles, and said, in 
 an anxious tone, to Floret : 
 
 " Ceme along, Edith ; let us run until we 
 get far, far away from this hateful place." 
 
 " Do not agitate yourself now, dear Ida," 
 returned Floret ; " we are, for the present, safe. 
 You may be sure that we shall not be searched 
 for here. We had better sit quietly down, at 
 the foot of a tree, and wait until the moon 
 rises to light us on our way. It is easy to lose 
 ourselves in the succession of vistas which 
 form a path every way you look ; and if we 
 should do so, we should wander about till 
 morning, and perhaps die here of hunger and 
 fatigue." 
 
 " How horrible !" ejaculated Ida, nervously. 
 
 "Do not be afraid,' 'rejoined Floret. "When 
 I was young very young, Ida I used to be 
 almost constantly in the air, passing from 
 place to place, and often through such woods 
 as this. Then I was taught how to guide my 
 way by the stars, or by the pathway of the 
 moon, if at any time I should happen to lose 
 myself. I have not forgotten those lessons ; 
 so we will rest ourselves, calm our excited 
 spirits, and be prepared to move when the 
 beams of the moon cast their silver lustre o 
 the grassy turf beneath the trees." 
 
 So they sat themselves down at the base of a 
 tall red pine, and entered into quiet converse. 
 
 They talked of the world before them, and of 
 what they should do to live, and how they 
 would live when they obtained the means. 
 Both had an idea of the struggles and the 
 trials they were likely to have to encounter, 
 and they were both prepared to face them 
 bravely. 
 
 While they were still deep in earnest and 
 hopeful conversation, Floret perceived long, 
 tremulous streams of crystal light pour slowly 
 
OB, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 ,47 
 
 Uiroughthe interstices of the inwoven branch- 
 es, and between the tall, clustering columns 
 of the tall pinea, falling with lustrous radi- 
 ance upon the still grass which paved the 
 earth, spreading softly, in various directions, 
 delicate vails of silver frost. 
 
 She gazed upward at the sky, through an 
 opening in the sombre vegetation above her, 
 and then, touching Ida lightly on the wrist, 
 she rose up, and said : 
 
 " Ida, it is time." 
 
 Ida arose with such a sweet smile of glad- 
 ness upon her face, as it had not seen for 
 years. Floret felt her heart leap at the sight. 
 
 " And shall I ever show such quiet, deep 
 joy on my features?" she thought, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 She turned to Ida, and said : 
 
 " Look at the heavens, Ida. Yonder is the 
 North Star, upon my right hand ; behind me, 
 but moving toward the west, is the moon. 
 Observe the shadews of the trees, as they fall 
 upon the grass. Remember, that the trees 
 move not, but the moon does ; and, therefore, 
 the shadows move, too they travel from west 
 to north and thence to the east. By keeping 
 the North Star in sight, and by observing the 
 direction in which the shadows of the trees 
 lie, we shall be ab'e to tell, as we pass through 
 this plantation, whether we are deviating from 
 our path or not." 
 
 "I place myself implicitly under your 
 guidance, and whatever you direct me to do 
 I wiU obey," replied Ida ; " I know that in 
 years I am older than you, but you have more 
 strength of mind, more resolution, and more 
 persevering energy than I have." 
 
 Floret smiled. 
 
 " It is pleasant to be nattered," she said, in 
 one of her sweetest tones ; " but do not con- 
 tinue it, dear Ida ; for if you do, I shall, per- 
 haps, become vain, and then I shall prove 
 hateful." 
 
 " Like Miss Ate* ? Never !" ejaculated Ida, 
 with fervor; then she added, thoughtfully, 
 " It has often occurred to me that it was a pity 
 old Blixenfinik, when he played the part of 
 Jupiter in naming hershe could never have 
 been christened, I am sure of that did not 
 perform the remaining portion of the drama." 
 
 " Let me remember," said Floret : " Jupiter, 
 I think, dragged his daughter, Ate, from the 
 society of the gods and goddesses by the hair 
 of the head, banished her from heaven, and 
 sent her to dwell upon earth." 
 
 " Yes," responded Ida, quickly ; " and she 
 has taken up her abode at Ugglebarney, where 
 she incites poor girls like me to wickedness. 
 O Edith, sometimes when she has been twitch- 
 ing her nose up and down, and blinking her 
 eyes at me as she scolded me, I have looked at 
 her, and felt so shockingly wicked. What a 
 shame it was for that pompous, arrogant old 
 Jupiter to send his hateful daughter down to 
 earthhe ought to have sent her to" 
 
 Ida paused abruptly. 
 
 " To a coal mine," suggested Floret, with a 
 ly look at, hr. 
 
 " Yes," returned Ida, laughing ; " supposing 
 that it was on fire, and the combustibles were 
 sulphur and pitch. It was wrong to put an 
 accent at the end of her name, and to leave the 
 letter H from it ; it ought to have led off with 
 it she was so identified with the word. What 
 a many thin slice of bread and butter the pro- 
 nunciation of her detestable name has cost poor 
 Athalie, who left before you came. Whenever 
 she wanted to be spiteful to Hiss Ate, she 
 would always place H before her name, and 
 aspirate it vigorously. Miss Ate would call 
 upon her to pronounce it properly, and repeat 
 ' A'te' a dozen times. But Athalie would start 
 off rapidly, and ay, scornfully, ' Hate, Hate, 
 Hate, Hate, Hate, Hate', and I used to love 
 her so for it." 
 
 In such pleasant talk did they beguile the 
 long night. Floret led the way. They occa- 
 sionally rested themselves, and then rose up 
 and went on again, until an hour or so of dawn, 
 when they reseated themselves in a very se- 
 questered spot, and tried to talk to keep them- 
 selves awake. 
 
 But exhausted nature refused to make farther 
 effort ; and so, making themselves pillows of 
 their bundles, they reclined beneath a tree, 
 folded in each other's arms. Ida laid her face 
 on Floret's breast, and Floret her soft, wan 
 cheek on Ida's forehead, and so they both 
 glided off into a deep slumber. 
 
 The sun was rising when, faint and weak, 
 they opened their eyes. They rose up, but it 
 was with difficulty that they tottered on, they 
 were so faint for want of food. At length, wel- 
 come sight, a cottage presented itself before 
 them, and they made their way to it. 
 
 Light-footed, for they seemed almost to tread 
 on air ; light-headed, for they felt giddy and 
 afflicted with vertigo ; exhausted, because they 
 feared they should fall each step they took, 
 they reached the cottage only with the great- 
 est difficulty. 
 
 A woman was standing at the door. She 
 stared hard at them as they came up to her. 
 
 " We want something to eat," said Floret, 
 feebly. 
 
 " We are starving," exclaimed Ida. 
 
 "My Godl" ejaculated the woman, as she 
 looked at their wan, pinched countenances. 
 
 " We will pay you," murmured Floret. 
 
 The woman's eyes became moist and silent, 
 and her lips trembled. 
 
 She did not speak, but she drew them gent- 
 ly and tenderly into the cottage. 
 
 Presently she murmured : 
 
 "I have girls of my own, they are away 
 from me at service. If they should be like 
 you the Lord I the Lord ! children, you make 
 my heart ache." 
 
 A few minutes only, and a basin of warm 
 bread and milk was placed before them. 
 
 Although they yearned for it, and were 
 about to commence upon it voraciously, the 
 good woman checked them, and caused them 
 to begin sparingly at first, that too full a 
 meal should not have a dangerous effect upon 
 them. 
 
KA.GAR LOT ; 
 
 They remained at the cottage the whole of 
 that day. The good woman would not let 
 them leave, she said, until they had at least 
 one good day's food, and they did have auoh a 
 one with her as they had not had at Uggle- 
 bamby House during the three years w they 
 were imprisoned there. 
 
 Floret gave the woman money to buy them 
 some meat with, but the good creature refused 
 to take anything beyond it for the milk, bread, 
 and shelter. 
 
 A bed was made up for them by her, for she 
 was living in her cottage alone, and they en- 
 joyed a long night's rest, as well as that which 
 they had had during the day. On the follow- 
 ing morning they set out upon their journey, 
 recruited and refreshed beyond what they 
 could have possibly hoped for, and they took 
 it as a good omen. 
 
 Floret, after a eareful meditation, decided 
 that it would be the most prudent plan to walk 
 to London. The distance was fearful, but time 
 was not an object, and money was. 
 
 Floret understood something of the task, for 
 *he, when a child, had walked many a hundred 
 miles with Daddy Windy. She thought she 
 might certainly do it now, when she had such 
 an object in view. 
 
 And so they went on walking during the 
 day, sleeping at night at pome cottage where 
 they could be accommodated, or in an out- 
 house, or even under a haystack, when no other 
 place of repose was at hand. 
 
 They made thus their way into Nottingham- 
 shire, and one morning their path lay through 
 a wood. 
 
 Suddenly they came upon a pool of clear 
 water, imbedded in a nest of trees. Upon its 
 margin grew a profusion of blue, crimson, pur- 
 ple, and golden flowers, and upon its surface 
 lay broad Crater-lilies, reposing or flinging out 
 their shoots and bud's in various directions. 
 
 Floret paused, and gazed wildly round her. 
 She knew the spot again, she recollected every 
 feature it presented. 
 
 She said to Ida with deep emotion : 
 
 " Let us sit down here. I will sing you a 
 song I used to be fond of, and it was once of 
 much service to me." 
 
 They sat down by the side of the pool, and 
 then Floret, in a richer, deeper, but not either 
 sweeter or clearer voice than in childhood^ 
 sung ; 
 
 "Oranges, sweet oranges ! 
 Pulpy cheeks that peep through trees, 
 Thecrabb'st churl in all the south, 
 Would haidly let a thirsty mouth, 
 Yearn for thee, and Ions: to taste. 
 Nor grant one golden kiss at last." 
 
 While her soft, si'.ver-bell like tones were 
 yet quiveriDg in the air, a rich, manly, though 
 youthful voice, responded from a short dis- 
 tance. 
 
 It suBg a burden, thas : 
 "La! la! La. sol, fa, mi, 
 My la^y locked through the orange tree. 
 
 Floret caught !'* by the wrist. 
 
 " Some one is coming this way, let us hide 
 ouralvee," she said, in an under-tone. 
 
 Ida instantly obeyed her, and they dived 
 beneath the thick undergrowth that skirted 
 the pond, and there crouched down, securely 
 concealed in a leafy cover, but through which 
 hey could gaze without being seen. 
 
 They were scarcely hidden, when footsteps 
 approached the pool. Almost immediately, 
 two young men, attired in sporting garb, and 
 followed by dogs and two keepers, approached 
 the pool. 
 
 One of them Floret instantly recognized ai 
 Lord Victor. The other she knew not he was 
 young, tall, dark, and handsome. 
 
 But, oh ! how beautiful in her eyes had Lent 
 Victor become. He was now a man, with a 
 large, clear, dreamy, and yet lustrous eye, and 
 features regular and delicately shaped, enough 
 to make the heart of any woman ache. 
 
 Floret's heart beat violently, as she saw 
 him gazing anxiously and earnestly about 
 him. Presently be said : 
 
 " The voice sounded as if it came from some 
 one seated on this spot." 
 
 " One of the young ladies from the castle,** 
 suggested his friend. " Perhaps hiding some- 
 where in sport. Let us unkennel her, Vic- 
 tor." 
 
 " No !" he returned hastily and thoughtful- 
 ly. l 'T$o, it is BO yourfg lady from the castle, 
 but one of the fairest and most beautiful little 
 fays imagination can conceive, who haunts this 
 fairy pool." He raised his voice to an un- 
 necessary loudness, as he added : " She only 
 discloses her presence to those who wish to 
 see her as anxiously as I do, and when I return 
 here at sunset, as I shall do, and alone, I hope 
 from my soul that she will reveal herself to 
 me." 
 
 His companion laughed lustily. 
 
 'Upon my soul, Victor," he said, " you are 
 as full of romance as ever. Alma Mater's 
 hard teachings do not crush it out of you." 
 
 "And never will," he rejoined. "Away 
 with you, Vaughan, we will beat the covers 
 yonder, we shall have excellent sport there." 
 
 And so they hurried away. 
 
 Floret remained perfectly motionless until 
 the distant report of a gun told her that they 
 might quit their hiding-place without the risk 
 of discovery. She then crawled out. followed 
 by Ida. 
 
 The latter was about to speak to her, but to 
 her surprise she saw silent tears coursing each 
 other down her c'leeks, and she heard her 
 mutter, as she glanced scornfully at her mean 
 attire : 
 
 " Always a beggar!" 
 
 Before Ida could express the surprise she 
 felt, Floret seized her by the hand, and said, 
 earnestly : 
 
 ** Let us fly from this place, Ida far, fax 
 from it." 
 
 An^ they turned to strike into the depths of 
 the wood; but they, to their horror and 
 amazement, found themselves confronted by a 
 scraggy, fierce-lookirg old gipsy, who was 
 glarirfg upon Floret with the aspect of a ma- 
 niac. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL.' 
 
 " I know'd the woice," he exclaimed, in 
 harsh and guttural tones. "I know'd the 
 woico ; th sounds on it tingled in my old 
 cirs like the fairy moosic which comes out o' 
 silver 'iacynth bells. Sixteen bunches a pen 
 nee, sweet lawender ! I'm right this 'ere time 
 sixteen bunches a pennee !" 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 .*' And she is now his cuptive thrown 
 In his fierce hands, alive, alone ; 
 His the infuriate band she sees, 
 All infidels all enemies ! 
 What was the daring hop that thea, 
 Cross'd her like lightning, as again, 
 "With boldness that despair had lent, 
 
 She darted through the armed crowd 
 A look so searching, so intent, 
 
 That ev'n the Bternest warrior bow'd. 
 Abash'd, when he her glances caught, 
 As if he gue&s'd whose form they sought ! 
 But no she sees him not. 
 THE 
 
 As the harsh sounds of Daddy "Windy's 
 Toice grated disagreeably in the ears of Ida, 
 Floret stood speechless, transfixed with horror. 
 
 The incidents of the past three years, mo- 
 notonous, long drawn out, and yet, terrible as 
 they were, vanished from her memory as 
 though they had never happened. She seemed 
 to be still on the green and flower-decked hill 
 at Reigate, gathering the wild blossoms and 
 trembling grasses which grew there, disturbed 
 only at that moment in her pleasant occupation 
 by the unexpected and unwelcome obtrusion 
 of the Daddy's form upon her unterrified eyes. 
 : Again ( thoughts, agonizing and depressing, 
 rushed through her mind, attended by some of 
 the most humiliating memories of "the past. 
 They pointed to an abasing and degrading fu- 
 ture ; they suggested a vagrant, wandering 
 life ; they seemed to trample out all latent, but 
 cherished, hopes of a brilliant termination to a 
 path thronged with trials and troubles, and to 
 foretell shame, humiliation, misery, and death. 
 
 But that she was paralyzed with horror, she 
 would have fled, shrieking fled in one direc- 
 tion where she had an instinctive conviction 
 that succor and protection would be extended 
 to her. 
 
 But she was held back, not alone by that 
 strange paralyzing fright, which had rendered 
 her limbs powerless, but by a distressing im- 
 pression that the Daddy had some legal, some 
 rightful, claim to compel her to accept his 
 guardianship, and to follow his fortunes, until 
 she reached an age when the law cave to her 
 the power ef acting for herself. 
 
 With this conceit pressing upon her brain 
 she perceived that, were she to flee from him 
 now, and beseech the protection of one who 
 Ishe felt would instantly afford it, she should. 
 perhaps, only succeed "in unfolding a series of 
 circumstances with which her young life had 
 been connected to him from whom she was 
 anxious to conceal them, and this without 
 really effecting her wished- for object. 
 
 The question whether it was prudent for her 
 to remain or to fly was settled by the Daddy, 
 who, while he uttered his curious nasal chant, 
 
 49 
 
 clutched 'at her dress and mantle with both 
 hands, so that, had she attempted to escape 
 from him, he would have pulled her back with 
 a eavage strength and ferocity with which she 
 would have been unable to struggle succ ese 
 fully. i. 
 
 Tne considerations which appeared to blister ' 
 the brain of Floret, as they rushed through it, 
 did not influence Ida. 
 
 She perceived the grinning, saffron-hued, ; 
 haggard visage of the Daddy lighted up by 
 the flashing glitter of his delirious eyes with 
 an overwhelming, suffocating terror. She saw 
 him fasjten his talon- like claws upon the frail 
 dress of Floret, and she heard a screech of ex- 
 ultation, such as a famished vulture would 
 give on discovering the unexpected carcass of 
 a dead lamb, burst from his lips, and then her 
 tongue, which had been chained by fright, was 
 loosened. 
 
 She sent forth a long, wild, piercing scream, 
 which she followed with a dozen others, all 
 given with extreme rapidity, and with a shrill- 
 ness which not only carrfed them above all 
 other sounds, but which caused all the hollows 
 and the avenues of the old wood to catch them 
 up, and re-echo them many more times than 
 they were uttered. 
 
 Startled herself by the abrupt and piercing 
 loudnees of her voice, as it rang through the 
 quiet air, she paused breathlessly, and stood 
 motionless. 
 
 The Daddy, however, did not permit the 
 silence to continue, for he pressed his teeth 
 upon his nether lip, and blew between them a 
 sharp whistle having a peculiar cadence. 
 
 His signal, for such it was, was instantly fol- 
 lowed by a loud halloo from a distant part of 
 the wood, the firing of a gun, and the having 
 of some dogs. 
 
 Ida hearing them, sprang excitedly upon 
 the Daddy, and fastened her hands on his col- 
 lar. She endeavored to drag him from Floret. 
 
 " Quit your hold of my companion ! ' she 
 cried ; " she has no money to give you we 
 are both poor ! Take your wicked hands from 
 her, or you shall be put in prison, you fright- 
 ful old man ! Let go your hold !" 
 
 The Daddy turned his grinning face to hers. 
 He felt, in a double sense, that ehe had no pow- 
 er to move him. 
 
 " When I lets go my 'old on her, my vite 
 dafiydowndilly," he exclaimed, between his 
 gnashing teetb, "I lets go my 'art strings vith 
 her. No! 1 no! She's mine she's mine! I 
 sticks to her now vonce for all ! Te-viee I've 
 been robbed on her te- vice an' both times 
 byvomen! The-rice it ain't to be done with- 
 out murder murder, my own Vite Rose! 
 Murder, my silver daisy ! Your murder, my 
 Vite Rose, if any von tries to svoop off vith 
 you, or you 'empts to play the double on poor 
 old Daddy!" 
 
 "Helpf" screamed Ida; "help! help! 
 help!" 
 
 " Hilloah ! hoy !" responded a youthful Toic 
 from the same part of the wood from whence 
 the previous shout had proceeded. 
 
IIAGAR LOT ; 
 
 The about was again accompanied by the 
 baying of dogs. 
 
 i "Help! help!' again shrieked Ida, pull- 
 ing with all her strength at the Daddy's col- 
 
 l*rj 
 
 | Floret, white as a ghost, stood seemingly 
 helpless and powerless to move. 
 ( Jest put a muffler on this pipin' finch !" 
 abruptly exclaimed the Daddy, addressing 
 some cne apparently in the rear cf Ida. He 
 did not himself attempt to remove her hands 
 from his collar, but kept his grip firmly upon 
 the dress of Floret. 
 
 \ Ida suddenly felt a pair of hard, horny hands 
 placed over her mouth, and her neck was im- 
 mediately jerked backward with such a vio- 
 lence that she wai compelled to withdraw her 
 hands from the Daddy's collar. 
 | The next moment she found herself strug- 
 gling in the arms of a strong man, who, having 
 released for an instant her mouth from his euf 
 focating pressure, dexterously passed a eilk 
 handkerchief about her lips, and fastened it be- 
 hind her head. It served the purpose of a gag, 
 Wen more effectually than his hands ; for 
 while it deadened every sound which she at- 
 tempted to make, it enabled her to breathe. 
 Its odor, however, rather damaged its proper- 
 ties as a revivifying respirator, for it seemed 
 compounded of stale, putrescent patchouli and 
 the oldest and the deadest tobacco ash. Un- 
 der ordinary circumstances, this unsavory scent 
 was enougli to have stifled her, or an elephant ; 
 but she was excited, and was frantically desir- 
 ous to live and be set free from the ruffian who 
 had seized her. 
 
 Floret, as Ida was seized, saw a dozen forms 
 appear from beneath the undergrowth, and 
 from leafy hollows, which did not appear to 
 have contained a living creature. She per- 
 ceived that the Daddy was accompanied by a 
 tribe of his people, who were surrounding them, 
 and she knew that escape, for the present, was 
 hopeless. 
 
 A raw-boned, mahogany- visaged womao, 
 wearing a bright amber handkerchief passed 
 over her head and pinned beneath her chin, 
 pushed some bushes aside, and moved up to 
 the old man, who ctill kept the dress of Floret 
 tightly in his grasp. 
 
 She laid her hand upon his shoulder, and, 
 in a husky voice, said : 
 
 " What is it, old man-of- all ?" 
 
 Floret glanced at her : it was not tho gran- 
 nata. 
 
 "The Vite Ease, my mulberry bud the 
 Vite Rose !" he ejaculated, in a tone of tri- 
 umph. 
 
 The woman responded Trith an exulting 
 cackle. 
 
 The Daddy said to one of the gipsies, who 
 were all looking on at the two girls and the old 
 man with wondering eyes : 
 
 " You 'ad better 'ark forward, Lurcher, right 
 avay at vonce. Draw them ere parter-idges 
 vich you've got in your'ands over the grass an' 
 the bushes the werry percise vay as ve isn't 
 goin'. Bcoos ve shall 'ave here in two-twos a 
 
 couple of young lords and a couple o'old 
 keepers, who viJl be locking ater this liUle 
 brace o' game 'ere in muslin. I ain't p*rtik]ar 
 about takin' that von you 'ave 'old on, Mi- 
 cah," he added ; " but ehe might blow on na 
 jest at first, eo ve'll give her forty-eight 'ours 
 o' gipsy life, jest to " 
 
 ' IliJJioh I Hoy ! hoy !" cried some voices, 
 lustily. 
 
 The sounds were much nearer than before. 
 
 Floret started. She recognized the voice of 
 the young Lord Victor she knewdts intona- 
 tion perfectly. She was about to scream vio- 
 lently for aid, but she cast her eyes at her 
 poor, worn, shabby garments, and, with a sub- 
 dued groan embitter pain, she remained silent. 
 
 She was in the Daddy's power now, but she 
 believed that ehe would not always be. She 
 had hopes that Li per Leper would not fail her, 
 and that when she escaped from the clutches 
 of the terrible old gipsy, who now held her 
 fast, she should find some means to dress more 
 becomingly, and be then enabled to meet 
 Lord Victor in such attire that, at least, he 
 would not say to himself, as he gazed upon 
 her: 
 
 " She is a beggar !" 
 
 How many a poor girl has, alas ! been ruined 
 by such a reflection as this ! 
 
 "Hillioh!" grunted the Daddy. "Werry 
 pooty ; that woo'hallo is werry pooty ; but 
 they'll find the fox stole avay, I should say. 
 Avay, every von on you, inter brake and 
 copse ; inter holler an' dell ; to earth yith 
 you ; I'll take care on my Vite Rose I'll take 
 care on her. An' you, Micah, follow me vith 
 that ere vite pigeon, vich is a flutterin' in your 
 arms. Avay vifch you, the grass is 'ot, an' our 
 shoes, at this ere partikler minnit, ain't BO 
 werry good. Avay !" 
 
 As he concluded, the gipsies, of whom there 
 were at least twenty, glided off silently in vari- 
 oas directions. 
 
 The one who bore the more suggestive than 
 euphonious name of Lurcher fulfilled the in- 
 structions given him by the Daddy, by draw- 
 ing Hie feathered bodies of a brace of enared 
 partridges along the tall grass, brushing with 
 them, too, the tall, graceful, waving ferns, and 
 the thorny, thickly- clustered, blooming gorse. 
 
 As they disappeared, the Daddy shifted, 
 with great rapidity, one hand from Floret's 
 cloak, and passed it round her waist. 
 
 She shrank from him, but he gripped her 
 tightly, and, bending his wrinkled face to- 
 ward hers, he placed his black lips close to 
 her ear, and whispered, in what he intended to 
 be a tender tone, but which had a whining, 
 fawning character : 
 
 " My Vite Rose my own little booty my 
 pooty Floret don't shrink avay from your 
 poor old Daddy. You knows he's werry foicd 
 on you, n' he von't 'arm you. Perk up your 
 pooty beak, an' chirrup, for there ain't no 
 Grannem to wex you now, an' Daddy '11 make 
 a queveen on you. Come along vith me, Vite 
 Rose ; it ain't o' no use a fightin' with thorns ; 
 you'll get the vust o' that, jou knows; all 
 
OR, TfiE 
 
 OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 your poor little fingers '11 bleed, an* yon vill 
 still be stuck fast ; BO be cheerful and gay as a 
 lark, aa coino villingly vith me, for you must 
 come you must come you must you must. 
 Cos' I've swored to lose my life, an' to take 
 yourn to take yourn, Floret afore ve shall 
 betored asunder again until But never 
 mind, vite dove ; don't shrink an' tremble so ; 
 Daddy loves 'is silver snowdrop ; lie loves the 
 werry star-eyed daisies, the goolden buttercup, 
 the crystal chiakveed, the amper-mouthed 
 grund'sel, the crimson-spotted sorrel, the 
 peachy vild anemomy, the tiny tr'foil, an' the 
 shivering dcddle-grass upon vich her pooty 
 little foot trips over, and never scrunches ; he 
 loves the soft summer vind vich blows vith 
 spicy scent upon her little pinky cheek not 
 so werry pinky now, but it shall be ; he lovea 
 the little birds as pipes to her ; the leaves 
 upon the trees, vich flutters as if they had the 
 spasms as they chants to her ; be loves every- 
 thin' a round her, a- bout her, a-bove her, be- 
 neath her, too veil too veil to 'urt a goolden 
 thread cf her silk-vorm 'air. So, come vith 
 its fond oU Daddy come come come !'' 
 
 All this -while the Daddy, with, it must be 
 acknowledged, a gentle force, but still a force, 
 urged her along. Ida, she perceived, had been 
 already carried away, and she knew the na- 
 ture of the people in whose power she was at 
 that moment too well to, hope to gain any- 
 'thing by struggling with her captor. She was 
 sufficiently well acquainted, too, with the char- 
 acter of the Daddy to know that, if she at- 
 tempted to shriek and struggle, that he would 
 gag her, muffle her eyes, and carry her away 
 at every risk of danger and injury to her, not- 
 withstanding that he spoke to her with such a 
 velrot tongue. 
 
 So she went with him, not willingly, but 
 with a reluctant dragging step, which com- 
 pelled him to propel her forward. 
 
 It was evident that he knew every inlet and 
 outlet of the wood, for he traversed a devious 
 path, unworn by human foot. Now between 
 gorse bushes, and thick, matted, intertwined 
 undergrowth ; and, anon, between small lanes, 
 formed by young saplings and trees of older 
 growth. 
 
 And he paused not, during at least half an 
 hour's hurrying, until they arrived at a glade 
 of small dimensions^hickly screened by close- 
 ly-clustering trees, Between the stems of which 
 clambered up wild masses of hawthorn, inter- 
 laced with the dog-roee, and decorated and 
 trimmed, as it were, with the blackberry and 
 other brambles, which were dense enough to 
 hide from the eyes of all without those who 
 reclined upon the lush grass within. 
 
 Here the whole of the tribe were assembledd 
 two tents were pitched upon the grass, an; 
 preparations were being made to kindle a fire 
 for the cooking of those provisions, which 
 eome of the members of the community had 
 collected during their morning rambles, with- 
 out being the recipients of philanthropic gifts. 
 
 In a Htuall heap in a corner were fresh-pull- 
 ed potatoes and very young carrots ; there 
 
 were some plucked pullets and one goose, 
 whose feathers had been removed in haste and 
 without care ; there were also a brace of par- 
 tridges and one pheasant. Some new-laid 
 eggs, surreptitiously obtained from a nest in a 
 farm-yard, peeped out from among the vege- 
 tables, and by their side were three loaves of 
 new white, fancy bread, which one of the men 
 had " found" in a baker's basket, that stood 
 " neglected and alone", outside the <2oor of a 
 villa. The frisky young baker had placed it 
 where the gipsy had discovered it, while he 
 eerved his customer. He was. at the moment 
 the gipsy " made a point" at the forsaken ' 
 basket, vowing to the pretty housemaid, that j 
 she really had the sweetest and yet the cruel- 
 lest of " hies", and a complexion which made 
 the best white wheaten flour, at tenpence a 
 quartern, look like oatmeal ; and she was 
 chuckling and assuring him, as she gave his 
 paste-colored chin a fillip, that he was a 
 saucy and awdacioua willen, and was a leetle 
 too full of his gammon. 
 
 And the price of that flirt was the three 
 quartern loaves aforesaid. 
 
 There wore several other articles collected 
 there, all of usefulness and necessity, and the? 
 inference to be drawn from the gathering, ob-*! 
 tained without incurring any other obligation^ 
 than the law might impose, was, that the triba ! 
 intended remaining where they had pitched 
 their tents for the remainder \>f that day and 
 night, at least. 
 
 Floret knew this by what she observed, and 
 she hoped that this circumstance would afford 
 her an opportunity of escaping once more from 
 the Daddy's clutches. She had not, for a 
 moment, despaired of help and aid, but she 
 did not et present look for it, nor did she wish 
 it to come from Lord Victor. 
 
 She was prepared to undergo, for a time, 
 any trial, however severe, rather than appear 
 1 before him in forlorn and poverty-stricken 
 apparel. 
 
 No, she cast her eyes anxiously over every 
 gipsy face which was turned toward her with 
 a grave not lowering but earnest, curious 
 expression. 
 
 The name of the "White Rose was known to 
 them as well as that of the greatest of their 
 people, to whom a tradition was attached ; and 
 they wondered, although they spoke not, what 
 the^ Daddy, now that he had it in his pos- 
 session, would do with his locg-lost, deeply- 
 grieved floweret. 
 
 Floret met their settled stare with a firm 
 but searching look, but her gaze rested upon 
 the last nut-brown visage upon which her- 
 eyes turned with an expression of disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 She had hoped to see the countenance of 
 Li per Leper among those assembled, but he 
 was not there. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the piercing shriek whih 
 had been so abruptly and so shrilly uttered bj 
 Ida, was heard plainly, both by Lord Yiotor 
 and his companion, Hyde Vaughan. 
 
 For an instant they were startled by it, but 
 
52 
 
 HAGAR LOT j 
 
 Lord Victor impulsively placed his Hand to 
 his mouth, and responded by a loud about ; be 
 followed it by the discharge of his fowling- 
 piece, and the pointed who were with him 
 broke into a loud buying. 
 
 "What the devil is the meaning of that 
 cry?" exclaimed Hyde Yaughan, with a look 
 of surprise, as much perhaps at Lord Victor's 
 demonstration as at the scream itself. " Was 
 it a woman's voice?" 
 
 ' " A girl's voice," responded Victor, quickly, 
 with a frown on his brow. " Come along, 
 Vaughan. I promise one ruffian, at least, a 
 good trouncing." 
 
 As the words escaped his lips, he started 
 forward at a swift pace in the direction from 
 whence the shriek seemed to proceed. 
 
 " Hallo 1 where are you going, Victor ?" 
 cried Hyde Naughsn. 
 
 " What a stupid question I" returned Victor, 
 impatiently. <; Come on, Vaughan! that was 
 ft girl's shriek of fright and horror, or I am no 
 no judge of the intonation of the human voice ! 
 Follow on, Chariton and Bates, with the dogs," 
 he added, addressing thfl two keepers. 
 
 "Why, you don't meen to say that some 
 rustic lout is misbeh^ying himself toward an 
 unprotected girl," cn'cd Hyde, shouldering his 
 gun, and taking his place at the side of Victor, 
 who was going at the " double". 
 
 " I have not a doubt of it," returned Victor. 
 "I can tell you a strange etory about the pool, 
 near to which wl heard that pretty song about 
 the oranges." 
 
 "And did not sec the singer?" suggested 
 Hyde. 
 
 "Precisely," responded Victor. " I'll tell it 
 you when we have leisure. It is a curious 
 affair." 
 
 4< A fairy pool, of course," remarked Hyde, 
 beginning to pant. 
 
 " I have long since, in my own mind, called 
 it by that name," responded Victor ; " for the 
 strangest " 
 
 "Help! help !" shrieked from a distance an 
 agonized voice, with yet shriller and more 
 earnest tones than before. 
 
 Again Victor responded by a loud ehout, 
 and brought his thumb and finger to the lock 
 and trigger of his gun. 
 
 Both his dogs barked loudly, and Hyde 
 harked them forward. They bent their noses 
 to the ground, and ran sniffing in a zigzag di- 
 rection. 
 
 Victor did not take heed of the animals, but 
 kept on in the direction pf the pool. 
 
 Another wild, despairing cry for help arose ; 
 he again responded, and, with knitted brows 
 and set teeth, increased his pace. 
 
 They reached the pool at a run ; but it Tras, 
 to the mortification of Lord Victor, unten- 
 anted. 
 
 He halloed, but the wood only echoed his 
 voice. 
 
 They all proceeded to beat about the bush- 
 es, but with no success. The dogs ran nosing 
 round, and presently disappeared. 
 
 ,' Bruno has etruck a scent," exclaimed the 
 
 keeper (Bates), tombing Ms hat to Lord Vic- 
 tor ; " Shall we follow on, my Lord 2" 
 
 " Ay, certai&ly ; the dog's sagacity may lead 
 us to the partita of whom we are in search," 
 h replied, hastily ; and, as he spoke, be forced 
 his way through some undergrowth which 
 grew thick Jy about the spot where the dogi 
 Had disappeared. 
 
 He was closely followed by Hjde Vaughan 
 and the two keepers. 
 
 ^The dogs, which had been previously run- 
 ning to and fro a little wildly, now both went 
 with a low murmur steadily in one direction. 
 
 "They have picked up a ecent, my lord, for 
 certain," exclaimed the kee per, Chariton; "but 
 some birds have been in cover somewhere 
 hereaway. It's not the game we are in search, 
 of, my lord." 
 
 " Very likely not very probably not," re- 
 turned Victor, pausing for a moment. 
 
 Then he placed his hand to his mouth, and 
 cried, lustily: 
 
 "Hillioh!" 
 
 The cry was taken up at a not very distant 
 part of the wood, and repeated. 
 
 They all at full speed dashed toward the 
 spot whence the sound came. 
 
 It was not a woman's cry which had echoed 
 Victor's call, but still it was a response, and 
 they made toward the individual who had tit- 
 tered it, hoping to obtain from him some ex- 
 planation of tke singular cries they had heard. 
 
 Victor called again, and again his call waa 
 replied to. 
 
 A minute more and they entered a glade, 
 and saw, coolly leaning against a tree, a sturdy 
 young fellow, whittling with a pocket-knife a 
 hazel stick. 
 
 It waa the rustic from whom Lord Victor 
 had rescued Floret the same who had much 
 annoyed, and once insulted, Charlton's daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 His luck was unquestionably at ^this period 
 of his existence out at elbows, for lenot only 
 turned up in their path at a moment when, in 
 their estimation, his worth was at a very low 
 ebb, but he grinned at them with evident feel- 
 ings of exquisite enjoyment, having, us he con- 
 sidered, made fools cf the whole party. 
 
 And his " ragged luck" unwisely urged him 
 to be saucy. 
 
 The eight of his wide mouth, lined within 
 by two tiers of well- developed but not finely- 
 formed teeth, extended in an unequivocally de- 
 risive laugh, caused the blood of Lord Vietor 
 to boil in his veins. 
 
 He ran up, and said to him, fiercely: 
 
 " Was it you who halloed j USB now, in reply 
 to roy call?" 
 
 " Wor't yeou who called 'oot just now ?'' in- 
 quired the fellow, without looking up, and 
 continuing to whittle bis hazel stick. 
 
 ** It was !" returned Lord Victor, sharply. 
 
 "Ecod, then twur I, too!" he responded, 
 with a grin. 
 
 Why did you call out in answer to me f, 
 asked Lord Victor, bis anger rising rapidly up, 
 to the boiling poini , 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 " Eh ! why for did yeou call 'oot to me I" he 
 replied, keeping up his grin. 
 , Charlton eialed up to him, and said : 
 
 " Y ou ugly cub, don't 'ee know who you be 
 Bpeakm'too?" 
 
 The fellow looked up at him and grinned. 
 
 " Ees," he returned, laconically. 
 
 "You ill-mannered calf!" cried Hyde 
 Vaughan, indignantly. " Why don't you pay 
 proper respect to " 
 
 " Let him alone, Vaughan," interposed Lord 
 Victor ; "I'll teach him better manners pres- 
 ently." 
 
 " Will 'ee !" exclaimed the fellow, insolently ; 
 "will'ee ha! ha! Look'ee,my feythervarms 
 a hoon'dred y acres, an I bean't BO Vagram I 
 beant. And you bean't my jneaeter, Dor for 
 that, .my Lord Marquis neither, for I ha' left his 
 sarvice. Nor more be yeou my measter," he 
 added, with an impertinent acowl at Hy<?e 
 Vaughan, which, but for Lord Victor, he would 
 have resented. " An' I bean't agoin' to touch 
 my billycock, nor boo to every vool I meets as 
 grants me too. Theerei" 
 
 Charlton, the gamekeeper, licked hia lips, 
 and went ihrougn the procees of an imaginary 
 mastication of the words which the, uncouth 
 rustic uttered, and he drew carefully through 
 hiS'hand the stout thong of the dog-whip which 
 he carried. 
 
 Lord Victor, withnrich difficulty, preserved 
 a dignified and haughty demeanor while the 
 fellow was epeakmg ; he bit his nether lip for 
 a moment, and then eaid : 
 
 14 Tell me, did you hear a young girl scream 
 a few minute* back?" 
 
 "Ay, I did," he answered, with the same 
 vacant laugh ; " did yeou ?" 
 
 " I am here to know the cause of that un- 
 happy cry," replied Lord Victor. " Do you 
 know what it .was?" 
 
 " Loike enough I do," he returned, vigorous- 
 ly cutting a piece off the top of his stick, and 
 slicing with it a not inconsiderable portion of 
 the knuckle of his thumb. 
 
 This. circumstance induced him to drop his 
 stick, and leave cff whittling. As his thumb 
 Wed fiercely, he put away his knife, and insert- 
 ed his {deeding, dirty digit into his capacious 
 mouth. 
 
 7 * What was the cause of that young girl's 
 scream ?" repeated Lord Victor, impatiently, 
 as he drew up close to the rustic. 
 i He was about to give a most insulting an- 
 swer, but he was checked by the glitter of Lord 
 Victor's eye there was something dangerous 
 in it so he rejoined, doggedly : 
 
 " Gigfies got 'old o' two girls, an' they've 
 carr'ed them off into wood." 
 
 "Did you see them?" inquired Lord Victor, 
 sharply. 
 
 ; The rustic nodded his head sulkily. 
 f " Did you not interfere to prevent the gip- 
 sies carrying cff the two girls of whom you 
 speak?" He grinned impudently. 
 ; "Not 1 1" he answered. 
 $ "Nor gave any alarm?" continued Lord 
 .Victor, fiercely. 
 
 II Noa!" shouted the rustic, in a a rage, for 
 his. thumb had begun to smart and tbrob fari- 
 ously, and his juouth was full of blood. 
 
 "Which way did they take?" asked Lord 
 Victor, rapidly and eagerly. 
 
 'Go to Oold Nick!" cried the rustic r en- 
 ragedly. " Sha'n't teli'ee foind oot for 
 'eeaelfP 
 
 " You blackguard ! a sound horse-whipping 
 would seriously improve your complaint!" 
 cried Hyde Vaughn, angrily. 
 
 The rustic perked up his face, and raised his 
 clenched fist. 
 
 II 1 should like to Eee one as 'ood try to 
 cfo't!" he cried, with a taunting grin. "I 
 should varry much like to see 'un !" 
 
 "You scoundrel, you shall be favored with 
 that gratification !" exclaimed Lord Victor, 
 his face crimson with rage. 
 
 As he epoke, he snatched the dog-whip from 
 the hand of Charlton, and, seizing the rustic 
 by the neck piece, he lashed him most vigor- 
 ously. The fellow leaped, and jelkd, and 
 roared, and begged for mercy. 
 
 Lefc I goo let I goo, measter! Oo! I 
 beggee par-don! Yah yah! I beggee 
 pardon ! Yah ! Marcy marcy ! Let T go- 
 o o o-o ! I'll go on bended knees to 'ee let I 
 goo! Oo! dooee doee ! let I goo I" 
 
 When his arm ached with its active labor, 
 Lord Victor released hia hold of the fellow, 
 and he bounded away like a deer, without say- 
 ing a threatening word when he found himself 
 at liberty, or even looking back. 
 
 Lord Victor drew 'breath, and muttered : 
 
 "That debt has been standing more than 
 three years I am glad I have paid it !" 
 
 " Paid it with principal and interest in full !" 
 exclaimed Hyde Vaughan, who had been 
 laughing until his Bides ached, at the extra- 
 ordinary antics which the insolent, ill-grained 
 fellow had performed; and then he added: 
 "What is to be done now, Victor? I am 
 afraid we are at fault." 
 
 " No !" replied Victor, readily, " it is but a 
 temporary cheek. I confess, I do not like the 
 silence ; it disturbs rue more than even the 
 ecreaming, because it implies desperate mis- 
 chief. Bates, you run back to the house, and 
 bring back With you my bloodhound, Hector ; 
 he will be sure to follow on my trail. You, Charl- 
 ton, leash your dogs, and search the wood ; 
 blow your dog- whistle lustily, if you unkennel 
 the gipsy party. You will accompany me, 
 Vaughan, and we willtake a different direction 
 to that which Charlton selects. Away with / 
 you, Charlton follow me, Vaughan! I feel * 
 sick at heart, and ready to do any rascal a 
 serious mischief!" 
 
 As he concluded, fee plunged into a narrow, 
 leafy alley, closely followed'by Hjde Vaughn, 
 both wearing etern countenances, and clutch- 
 ing their guns firmly. 
 
 Charltoa tock a path well known to him, 
 which he believed would certainly conduct him 
 to the gipsies' lair. 
 
 Bates hurried back to the maneion, to return 
 with Hector, the bloodhound! 
 
HAGAR LOT; 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 ".' Let us bo patient ! These severe afflictions 
 
 Net from the ground arise, 
 But oftentimes celestial benedictions 
 Assume this dark disguise. 
 
 " We see but dimly through the mists and vapors ; 
 
 Amid these earthly damps, 
 What eeem to us but sad funereal tapers, 
 May be Heaven's distant lamps." 
 
 RESIGNATION. 
 
 The Daddy as Floret bent her lustrous hut 
 sorrowful eyes upon the swart faces of the mem- 
 bers of hia tribe, men and womenwatched her 
 from beneath his shaggy brows. 
 1 He noted the look of "disappointment which 
 atole over her features, and he mistook its 
 meaning. 
 
 He perceived that she missed the presence of 
 aome person, and, strangely enough, he pre- 
 sumed that the missing person was the Gran- 
 nam. He knew that Floret, had detested her ; 
 yet he fancied that ehe looked fgr her hoping- 
 ly among the fraternity there assembled, be- 
 cause she was known to her, and it would be 
 Borne relief, in her unhappy position, to have 
 some one near her whom she knew, and to 
 irhom she could speak almost without re- 
 straint. 
 
 He shook his head, and said to her, in" a 
 whining tone : 
 
 " 'Ere's a werry pleasant an' a social party 
 velcome you, Vite Rose. There ain't von on 
 'em as '11 look blue or wicious at you, acos 
 they knows if they did, they'd rapidly come to 
 a untimely end, aa the Grannam did. You re- 
 members the Grannam, Floret ? Ah ! she was 
 very fond o'you, Vite Rose hem! though 
 she didn't sho w it. An' you wua werry partial 
 to her, too leastviee, I think so though you 
 didn't show it, nay ther. Ah ! women's quveer 
 things, they is! Ven they loves you werry 
 much, they don't show it ; and ven they don't 
 love you, "they don they do show it then. 
 Yes; I'm. afeard they do show it then! Yes 
 yes ! The Grannam's gone, Floret. She fret- 
 ted a'ter you, an' took too much rum. Jamaik- 
 er was her ruin. Though fehe used to say it 
 vos her strength, I know'd it vos her veakness, 
 an' EO she found it. A'ter you'd gone avay, 
 an'I vos pin ; n* myself into the figger of a drum- 
 medary, the Grannam took to fallin' to a ehad- 
 der, though her head vent on a swellin' until 
 it reached &. orful eize. I vonce used to call 
 her nay p'ony, because she was round-faced 
 and fresh-colored ; but I vos at last obleeged 
 to call her my poppy my scarlet poppy ; for 
 theJamaiker cropped up out of her cheeks. 
 Ah ! an' it vent on croppin' up, until her coun- 
 tynons grew 'zactly like n purple cabbidge to 
 pickle.' Then it wus that, von night, havin' 
 put avay into her asmatieal cheat all the Ja- 
 maikerefce couldget 'old on, and still conticoo- 
 in' thust.y, she vent, ve suppose, in search of a 
 milder licker. Somehow, I didn't rrdsa her 
 that night ; I vcs uneesy ia my mind about 
 you, Vite Rose, and slept wery heavily ; but, 
 in the mornin', pome von found her boots 
 Bal-me-ral boots, with slashing scarlet lacea in 
 *em leania' agin tho top edge of ft rnin- vater 
 
 butt ; and ehe voa sfcll ia her boots, and her 
 mouth vcs down at the tap inside the butt, in- 
 stead of being down at it outaide the butt. She 
 vos werry much soaked, cos tho butt vos near- 
 ly full o' water ; and aetremely dead, becoalhe 
 doctor couldn't bring her back to life. An' BO, 
 aa she often used to say, it vos not the rum aa 
 killed her, but the vater. Tho Jamaiker tod- 
 dled her up to the tub, p'raps, and the Jamaik- 
 er toppled her into the butt, but it vos the 
 vater as killed her. Poor Grannam's gone 
 dead ! You von't never see her no more, Vite 
 Rose never no more!" 
 
 He paused, in order to let his words~hftve 
 due weight ; but, we are bound to acknowl- 
 edge fiat they had no effect upon Floret, or if 
 they did, it was one which was was rather 
 cheering than otherwise. She perhaps would 
 have preferred, if she had any inclination in 
 the matter at all, that the Grannam had goue 
 to her account in a decent and proper fashion, 
 but that she was gone had a decided sort of 
 relief to her, it is certain. 
 
 While these thoughts were revolving in her 
 mind, one of the gipsies, a tall, muscular fel- 
 low, advanced to the Daddy, and said, in a 
 low, husky voice: 
 
 " Shall we put the glimmer to the ruffmans, 
 and set the pot agoin' ?" 
 
 "Shall ve borrow a bell, or a gong, or a 
 drum, and panjeen pipes, fin' kick up a row, 
 an' hooray; an' sing out, "Ere's a Vite Rose 
 who vants a Vite Rose*'" responded the 
 Daddy, sharply, between his teeth. " There's 
 a little party on the 'unt for us now ; you >ave 
 only to set them sticks in a blaze, an' up goes 
 a pale-blue flag over the tree tops, to let them 
 aa is a 'uiiting for tia know azackly vere to 
 drop down ou us like a thunder storm." 
 
 " Vot shall ve do then?" inquired the gipsy, 
 gruffly. 
 
 " Nothen then, my bean-stalk," returned the 
 Baddy, quickly, " but everythin' now. Strike 
 the tents, diwide the peckage, break up into 
 twos an' threes ; some'll go von vay, Bonae'll 
 go another ; nobody but mft an' my pardner 
 vill'avethe Vite Rose, an' nobody vot ain't 
 got the Vite Rose vill know any thin' about a 
 Vite Rose! Do you understand?" , 
 
 "All right, old-m*n-of-all," returned tho 
 gipsy, ruffly ; " a leetle grub vculd be pleas- 
 ant to the feelins jis' now, but if ravens ia 
 about, we must 'ide the provender." 
 
 He turned away, and proceeded to the spot 
 where the provisions lay clustered in a heap. 
 The gipsiea quickly thronged around htm, to 
 watch a just division of the spoils, and Floret, 
 observing how they were engaged, said to the 
 Daddy earnestly, in an undertone : 
 
 "Wfcyhaveyou seized upon me in such a 
 lawless manner? why do \ou seek to detain 
 me? I am not what I was ; you can see that 
 I shill never be again what I have been. You 
 must know that why, therefore, do y ou abuse 
 a power which you accidentally possess, and 
 which cannot, in tho course of nature, belong 
 to you, to do ine a wrong, who never did yoi 
 an injury." 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 " Yild Rose Yild Vite Rose who said I 
 you'd do you a wrong?" returned the Daddy, 
 speaking with singular energy ; " who said so ? 
 Whoever it vaa lied lied, I say, lied ; I love 
 you, Vite Rose, an' I vill never wrong you 
 no, 110 no, Vite Rose no, never." 
 
 " But you threatened me with murder a lit- 
 tle while ago," she responded, emphatically. 
 
 " Only if you tried to bolt from me, that vaa 
 all," he said, resuming hia whining tone;_"I 
 cannot live vithout you I vill not live vith- 
 out you, and you shall not live vithout me." 
 
 " To what good?" rejoined Floret; "I am 
 changed since we were parted ; I was a child 
 then I am a woman now at least I have a 
 woman's feelings ; trouble, trial, sorrow, an in- 
 ward misery, which has no voice, have made 
 me leap from childhood to womanhood; I 
 I have had no girlhood. When I left you, I 
 was ignorant I am now educated I cau be, 
 therefore, of no value to you," 
 
 My Vite Rose is troubled vith an error," 
 he replied, promptly, "a very serous error: 
 ven you vos a little child, a fair-haired, vite- 
 faced the Lord ! your face is vite enough now 
 a vite faced little snowdrop you vos a little 
 goold-mine to me ; ven you vos a p'imrose, a 
 cowslip, a yellow heart-ease, you vos ptill a 
 goold-mine to me. You know how your pooty 
 Ultle fingers made me the bootifoolest bow- 
 pots, an' how goolden suvreigns wus given to 
 you for a penny buEch o' wilets ; vasn't you a 
 goold-mine to me then ? You'll be von to me 
 again." 
 
 "How?" she inquired, bternly, looking 
 strangely like the Marchioness of Westchester 
 in some of her moods, when she put that ques- 
 tion. 
 
 The Daddy leered cunningly at her. 
 
 " Does the Vite Rose know who placed her 
 in my care? 'he asked. 
 
 " I was stolen from from Mamma Atten," 
 returned Floret, passing her hand thoughtfully 
 across her brow. 
 
 "Ay, p'raps, werry likely," he returned, 
 quickly, *' but not by Daddy ; no, Daddy re- 
 ceived you almost a babby from them as 
 know'd who you are." 
 
 She clutched him by the arm, and gazed in 
 his face with intense eagerness, he spoke so 
 emphatically. 
 
 "P'raps," he continued, " I knows who you 
 are, p'raps I don't ; but vot I does know is, 
 there's money hanging to you, suv'rins drip- 
 pin' from your fair locks, from your tongue, 
 your lips, your cloak, your feet goold, goold, 
 goold, yaitin' for me to pick it up. Pardner,' 
 I've said to myself in the still night, ven the 
 stars 've shono out in the clear, dark eky Hke 
 d'mands on a purple welwetj curting, * pardner, 
 'ere is all this*goold a lay in.' about neglected, 
 vaitin' for you an' I to pick it up, a raal Tom 
 Tidler's ground, sparkling and glittering like a 
 spangled veskit, an' ehall ve vileve lives let it 
 wanish from, our eyea, and from our fingers 
 pardcer, athout adespert struggle. No I An' 
 if vo loses it, if ve loses it, vot vill life be vorth 
 vill the vorld be vorth, not 
 
 livin' for, sure-ly. No, an' so if ve can't 'ave 
 it, pardner, ve'll die over it ve'll die over it 
 but the goolden rose shall die ovtr it, too 
 she shall die over it, too for if ve makes no 
 goold out on her, nobody else shall no, no ; 
 nobedy else shall." 
 
 While the last words were yet upon his lips, 
 a large bloodhound, with a low but terrible 
 growl, crashed through the briars and haw- 
 thorn bushes, and bounded into the open 
 space. 
 
 With a wild and terrified yell, the gipsy 
 women sprang to their feet. The men, who 
 were huddled together, enarling over the divi- 
 sion of the provisions, roee up, too ; and the 
 tall, bony fellow who had a few minutes pre- 
 viously addressed the Daddy, seized up a stout 
 stick, and made a fierce blow at the huge ani- 
 mal, as with glaring and inflamed eyes he 
 stood, panting and looking about him, as if un- 
 decided which of the tribe he should select to 
 worry. 
 
 The dog, on seeing the blow directed at him, 
 spreng nimbly on one side, and in, another in- 
 stant he was up at the gipsy's throat, crunch- 
 ing with his teeth the man's collar and neck- 
 cloth. 
 
 The man shouted with fright, and the women 
 screamed with horror. Not one of the gipaies 
 dared assail the dog, although he was fully oc- 
 cupied with his attack upon their comrade. 
 They, however, after their first gestures of ter- 
 rified surprise, caught up sticks and tent-poles, 
 and were about to attempt to beat him off their 
 companion, who had fallen to the ground, when 
 a fresh incident drew their attentioa. 
 
 Through the opening in the glade by which 
 the Daddy had conducted FJoret, came hur- 
 riedly Lord Victor and Hyde Vaughan, fol- 
 lowed by the two gamekeepers, Charltou and 
 Bates. 
 
 A low, malignant howl was raised by the 
 gipsies, and each one of the men drew a knife, 
 or some such weapon, as if they expected a 
 fierce conflict to ensue, and were determined 
 to be prepared for it. 
 
 The moment Lord Victor saw Floret, he re- 
 cognized her, though his expanded eyes and 
 elevated eyebrows betrayed that he was not 4 
 little surprised by the alteration wlmh had 
 tiken. place in her appearance. 
 
 The expression of his eyes betrayed, too, 
 that admiration was blended with that sur- 
 prise, and as well that he felt inwardly de- 
 lighted, not only that he had succeeded in dis- 
 covering lier, but that he should, in all prob- 
 ability, prove the instrument of her deliver- 
 ance. 
 
 Without noticing the deadly combat which 
 waa going on upon the grass, between his dog 
 Hector and the prostrate gipsy, he advanced 
 hastily toward Floret ; but with a screeching 
 yell, the Daddy threw himself between her 
 and Lord Victor, and brandishing a knife, he 
 cried at the top of his voice : 
 
 " Stay vere you are, stay vere you are, or 
 I'll plunge this pisoned Juafe in her 'art II 
 vill, I vill!" 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 Floret screamed and wrung her hands. She 
 waved Victor back excitedly. 
 
 ' Do not approach me," she cried, vehe- 
 mently ; "you will cause iny death if you do ! ' 
 
 She knew the Daddy's nature only too well. 
 She knew that she was standing upon the 
 very brink of certain destruction, and that if 
 flhe allowed Lord Victor to take another step 
 nearer her, her life would not be worth another 
 moment's purchase. 
 
 He paused with a look of amazement, and 
 at the same moment, a chorus of voices ad- 
 dressed him : 
 
 44 Call off your doe, he's murdering the man 
 ealUiim off!" 
 
 .'" The gipsies seemed to know instinctively 
 that the dog belonged to the young lord. 
 
 He glanced for an instant sternly round him 
 at the gloomy, scowling men, and then at the 
 pale Floret and the affrighted Ida, who, in her 
 fear, was actually clinging to a rough gipsy, 
 while her eyes were bent in terror upon tha 
 huge bloodhound, which still pinned the pow- 
 erful gipsy to the turf, in spite of his tremen- 
 dous struggles to release himself. 
 
 He then stepped to Bates, who carried a 
 spring collar, to which a massive steel chain 
 was attached, and taking it from him, he went 
 tip to his dog, passed the collar swiftly round 
 his neck, took a firm hold of the chain, and 
 shouting a few words which the animal not 
 only recognized, but immediately obeyed he 
 drew him away, and the gipsy sprang to his 
 feet. 
 
 Infuriated with rage, he drew out a knife, 
 and would have made a rush at the dog ; but 
 two of his companions withheld him. Lord 
 Victor, in a loud voice, warned him back, and 
 Hyde Vaughan presented a double-barreled 
 gun full at his head. 
 
 For a moment he saw not, with his inflamed 
 eyes, these demonstrations, but his inability to 
 escape from the strong graep of the men who 
 held him, and the closing round of several of 
 the women of the tribe, brought him back tc 
 something like a comprehension that it would 
 be best for the moment to remain quiet. 
 ! "Within a few minutes more, a little order 
 was restored, and then Lord Victor, waving 
 his hand with a gesture of haughty dignity, 
 he exclaimed, in a loud, authoritative voice : 
 
 " Hear me, gipsies !" 
 
 i As if awed by his manner, as well as by his 
 truly lordly appearance, though so young in 
 years, every murmur was in a moment hushed 
 , by the clustering throng. 
 
 Lord Victor took a step toward the Daddy, 
 and gazing at him sternly, said : 
 
 "I must speak to the young lady whose 
 wrist you are clutching, ani whose life you 
 are menacing with your knife." 
 .' i " You may speak," grunted the Daddy, 
 slowly ; " you may speak to her there where 
 you stand, but not an inch nigher not a 
 spider's thread nigher. There must be no 
 touching of hands. No, no ; she is mine, an' I 
 will not part with her while she lives. My 
 hand will be quicker than your foot She 
 
 dies if you draw nigher ; if I even die, too, the 
 moment arter I care naught about that!" 
 
 "I hold such threats in scorn 1" exclaimed 
 Lord Victor, curling his lip. "With one 
 bound, if I willed it, I could cast you to the 
 earth before you could life your hand to at- 
 tempt the accursed deed you threa f en." 
 
 44 In the name of Heaven remain where you 
 are I" exclaimed Floret, agitatedly ; " the 
 knife is tipped with a subtle, venomous, and 
 deadly poison. Were you to attempt to rescue 
 me, you would only sacrifice your own life 
 without saving mine." 
 
 " That's it that's it, Vite Rose," cried the 
 Daddy, quickly. " I loves you, an' I von't 
 'arm you if they leaves us alone ; but if they 
 do interfere at ween us, I'll kill any vone as tries 
 it on, as veil as you." 
 
 44 What does all this mean?" exclaimed 
 Lord Victor, with a bewildered look at Floret. 
 '* We have met before, as you know. I am 
 acquainted with some portion of your history 
 that also you know. I am also cognizant of 
 the fact that the lady who received you in her 
 house, and who caused you, when you were 
 extremely ill of a fever, to be placed at a cot- 
 tage at Heigate, has been searching for you 
 ever since you disappeared, and that she is 
 most anxious to meet with you. I am pre- 
 pared, in spite of what this old ruffian threat- 
 ens, to take you to her at this moment." 
 
 "Are you are you?" cried the Daddy; 
 " but I isn't prepared to let her go." 
 
 As he concluded, he uttered rapidly several 
 sentences in a gibberish, or Romany dialect, 
 which the gipsies promptly comprehended. 
 
 Lord Victor looked suspiciously at him, but 
 as the gipsies all remained motionless, he con- 
 tinued to address Floret. 
 
 44 You. need not heed, nor need you fear the 
 jargon which this wretched man utters," he 
 said. " I will protect you ; I have the means 
 at hand, and I have the power. You may 
 safely trust yourself with me. I will conduct 
 you promptly to the lady to whorn I have 
 alluded, or anywhere else you may wish to be 
 conveyed.'' 
 
 4 ' You are Terry good, but it ain't goin' to 
 be done !" exclaimed the Daddy, between his 
 teeth. " Floret knows me pooty veil. She 
 knows that her spirit vou'd be in kingdom 
 afore you could vink a neye-lash. She knows^ 
 the gipsy people and their vays afore to-day* 
 say so, Floret. I don't tie your tongue, Vite ? 
 Rose, not I ; say vot you please, but you know- 
 speaks vot is true.'' 
 
 I Floret once more wrong her hands. She 
 drew a deep breath, and with a strangely- 
 meaning look into Victor's eyes, she said : 
 
 44 Beware !" 
 
 Then she rapidly added : 
 
 " I have to ask of you as a favor to leave me 
 to my fate. I shall come to no harm with this 
 old man, and I must work out my deliverance 
 myself alone, unaided. It is my destiny. We 
 may meet again, Lord Victor, in in in" her 
 voice trembled, and some unbidden tears 
 sprang into her eyes, but she made an effort, 
 
OR, THE FATE F THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 and checked her emotion" in brighter, hap- 
 pier times at least, such to me. If that time 
 should ever come, I shall know how to thank 
 you for your generous and brave interference 
 in my favor to-day. But there stands a young 
 lady, who has been my companion in some 
 affliction and some sore trials; these people 
 have no wish to detain her, and if you will, my 
 lord, conduct her to the lady of whom you 
 have spoken, and entreat her to befriend her, 
 I will pray for you while I live." 
 I " I will take charge of that young lady !" 
 exclaimed Hyde Vaughan, who had been gaz- 
 ing upon Ida with wondering and admiring 
 yea for some minutes previously. *' She shall 
 go to my mother and eister. She will come to 
 no griei in my custody, I will vow." 
 & " No, no, no !" cried Ida, excitedly. " I will 
 not leave you, Edith. I will " 
 * But her voice was suddenly drowned in a 
 wild and frantic Indian-like yell, which ema- 
 nated from the women of the tribe. Like a 
 band of infuriated demons, they sprang with 
 one accord upon Lord Victor, Hyde, and the 
 two gamekeepers, and forced them to the 
 ground, before they were in any degree able 
 to resist. The men joined them immediately 
 afterward in the attack, and, almost as soon as 
 we have taken to describe it, Lord Victor and 
 his companions were made captive, bound 
 hand and foot, and gagged. 
 , The dog Hector, hampered by collar and 
 chain, 'was pounced upon, and in an instant his 
 throat was ruthlessly slit from ear to ear. The 
 guns were taken away by the gipsies, and hid- 
 den beneath the hawthorn bushes and in gul- 
 lies, a short distance from the glade. The 
 whole of the provisions and tents were then 
 scrambled up, and ihe gipsies, dividing into 
 parties, straggled hastily away in various di- 
 rections. 
 
 i The Daddy, attended by a woman and two 
 men, hurried off with Floret and Ida, both of 
 whom he had previously caused to be gagged. 
 And there remained in the glade, within a few 
 minutes after this onslaught had commenced, 
 only Lord Victor, his friend, and the two game- 
 keepers, stretched upon the grass, bound and 
 helpless. 
 
 CHAPTER XtV. 
 
 'll'Tis true, they are a lawless brood, 
 iBut rough in form, nor mild in mood j 
 And every creed, and every race, 
 (With them hath found may find a place ; 
 But open speech and ready hand, 
 'Obedience to their chief's command ;J 
 *A soul far every enterprise, 
 That never sees with terror's eyes ; 
 Friendship for each and faith to all, 
 'And vengeance vow'd for those who fall 
 Have made them fitting instruments 
 Far more than e'en my own intents.'* 
 f THE BRIDE OF ABTDOS. 
 
 J After many days and nights of travel, by 
 by-paths, through forests and moors, the gip- 
 sies came to a resting-place. 
 \ They had now reached the centre of Eng- 
 land, and arrived at a spot which might be 
 termed the gipsies' home. Here dwelt the 
 king of the gipsies ; here the oldest and most 
 
 influential men and women of the various tribei 
 either resided or visited ; and here the young 
 and the sturdy of both sexes came to be mar- 
 ried, or to perform, or to be initiated into, 
 some of those mystic rites, which are peculiar 
 to, and pertain alone to the gipsy race. 
 
 Among the community who lived here the 
 Daddy was a patriarch and a chief ; he had con- 
 siderable influence, and was well versed in the 
 regulations and laws by which the people were, 
 it may be said, self-governed. Much deference 
 was paid to what fell from his lips, and almost 
 implicit obedience to his commands. 
 
 Arrived here safely, he conducted hia 
 "treasure" and her companion to a pictur- 
 esque locality, a grassy arena, encompassed by 
 trees, some at least a century's growth, and 
 others yet more aged. A considerable throng 
 of the gipsy fraternity were here assembled 
 old and young, men, "women, boys, and girls. 
 They had formed an irregular circle, and it 
 was evident, by their attention to some object 
 who was within the reserved space, that some 
 proceeding of importance to their community 
 was taking place. 
 
 The Daddy looked on the assemblage with 
 an eye of misgiving, but he pressed forward, 
 dragging, rather than leading, Floret. Ida 
 clung to her companion's robe, and the Daddy, 
 elbowing his way among a part of those indi- 
 viduals who formed a portion of the human 
 ring, the three were quickly within the limits 
 of the prescribed circle. 
 
 The Gipsy King, a white-haired, shriveled 
 old man, who looked all bandana handkerchief 
 and boots, was seated on a grassy hillock, 
 which was his throne. He, as well as the sur- 
 rounding throng, was listening to an old 
 woman, who, with theatrical gesticulations, 
 was haranguing the King, and constantly ap- 
 pealing to the people. 
 
 The Daddy bent his eye upon her, and he 
 grinned savagely. He^glanced at Floret, and 
 put his hand into the p'bcket of his velveteen 
 jacket, where, lying loosely, was his knife with 
 the envenomed blade. He gripped the handle 
 malignantly, and gulped twice or thrice very 
 suggestively; but he stood perfectly still, 
 keeping his keen, brilliant black eye beat upon 
 the woman who was speaking. \ 
 
 She was a strange, weird-looking creature, 
 evidently very old, for her face was of the hue 
 of a dingy -yellow morocco leather, and was 
 drawn into puckers ; but it was palpable that 
 she retained very much wiry strength, vigor, 
 and enercy. 
 
 Her form was lean and bony, but she stood 
 very upright. She wore, folded over her head 
 and" pinned beneath her chin, a kerchief of 
 scarlet silk. It shrouded from sight all but 
 her wrinkled, walnut-stained visage, and her 
 eves, black as night. 
 
 " About her shoulders and neck was another 
 handkerchief, of a brilliant yellow, crimson- 
 epotted, and beneath it a short kirtle of amber 
 worsted stuff, adorned with black stars, which 
 reached to the tops of a pair of coarse but well- 
 fitting leather boots, laced up the centre. 
 
58 
 
 HAGAR LOI ; 
 
 She commanded, it was apparent, the re- 
 spectful attention, not only of the people who 
 were spread around her, but of the monarch 
 of the tribe, for he several times waved hia 
 hand approvingly when she advanced a pro- 
 position with more than usual force. 
 
 As the Daddy entered the arena with Floret, 
 she had just concluded an observation which 
 had elicited from her auditors murmurs of 
 applause; but the very instant the scores of 
 flashing black eyes glittering round the cir- 
 cle turned upon the Daddy, those murmurs 
 were promptly hushed, and each man and 
 woman exchanged significant looks with his or 
 her neighbor. 
 
 This sudden silence attracted the attention 
 of the old woman who had been speaking. 
 Bhe turned her head toward the Daddy, and, 
 &s she perceived him, and with him two young, 
 fair, shrinking girls, a lurid gleam shot from 
 her star-like eyes, and with a wild smile, she 
 cried, in an elevated tone, with piercing clear- 
 ness: 
 
 "He is here! In his hand he holds the 
 White Rose!" 
 
 A curious low murmur ran through the as- 
 sembly. 
 
 The old King rose up, shaded his eyes with 
 both hands, peered at the Daddy and his com' 
 panions for a minute, and then slowly re- 
 sumed his seat again. 
 
 The Daddy looked for a minute fixedly and 
 searchingly.at the King, and then he slowly 
 turned hia eyes upon the grim, gaunt old gipsy 
 woman. 
 
 She had faced toward him ; her right arm 
 was down, and her hand was clenched ; her 
 left hand she rested upon her hip. 
 
 Her attitude was one of quiet but determined 
 defiance and hostility. 
 
 The Daddy scowled at her ; his skin changed 
 to a pale, repulsive green ; his jaws wagged 
 quickly together, and^ie growled as a mastiff 
 does before it gives an angry bark. 
 
 "Eleia of Castile," he muttered, "Higar's 
 old ancient aunt I sees the game ! O, but 
 O, but" 
 
 His voice seemed to 'be lost in an effort 
 
 which he made to keep himself from choking. 
 
 , He drew his knife secretly from his pocket, 
 
 and turned the blade up his sleeve, keeping 
 
 the handle hidden in his hand. 
 
 He tightened his hold cf Floret, and he made 
 one or two attempts to clear his voice, and then 
 said, lustily though huskily : 
 
 "Great Tawney Prince I, Daddy Windy, 
 Maunder and Patrico, am here ! I bring with 
 me the Vile Rose; my Vite Rose, Tawney 
 Prince my Vite Rose ! Mine mine on'y 
 mine, as I shall prove to you, Rum Duke and 
 High Pater, venever you shall magniminiously 
 and gra-shus-ly gi' me the chance o' dom/ on 
 
 The old gipsy seated upon the mound, whom 
 he had addressed as " Great Tawney Prince", 
 raised his semi-bald, grizzled, and dingy head, 
 and looked hard at him beneath his shaggy 
 eyebrows. 
 
 Presently he said, in a mumbling and not 
 too audible tone : 
 
 " Vich is the Vite Rose ?" 
 
 The Daddy moved a few paces forward in 
 his direction, compelling Floret who, with a 
 half-abasted, half indignant air, hung back 
 to accompany him. 
 
 Pointing to her, he said, in a strange tone, 
 which seemed to challenge all consequences 
 which might follow the acknowledgment : 
 
 " Be'old the Vild Vite Rose !" 
 
 An eager, whisper ran round the assem- 
 blage, and every eye there was fastened upon 
 Floret even that of the aged " Tawney 
 Prince". 
 
 After a brief inspection of her face and form 
 he uttered a kind of grunt, and pointing to 
 Ida, exclaimed : 
 
 " Who's t'other ?" 
 
 " I found her along with the Vite Rose," an- 
 swered the Daddy ; " an' I let her come vith 
 us, acos the Vite Rose wished it." 
 
 "She is a house-dweller?" observed the 
 monarch, interrogatively. i 
 
 "In her nat'ral state, cert'ny," responded 
 the Daddy. 
 
 "Born such bred such desires to die 
 such ?" continued the monarch. < 
 
 " Ain't a doubt on't," returned the Daddy. 
 "I knows nothing about her, 'cept vot I've 
 told you." i 
 
 " You have done wrong to bring her here ; 
 ehe must be driven away!" exclaimed the 
 King, in a harsh and angry tone. 
 
 " Vith all my 'art," returned the Daddy, 
 with a grin. 
 
 " No ! no ! no I" exclaimed Floret, hastily. 
 
 " Be silent, Vite Rose !" exclaimed the 
 Daddy, between his teeth. " Don't say a vord, 
 'eept vot I bids you, if you vouldn't have fresh 
 grass growin' and a blowin' over your head 
 ven the stars peep out." 
 
 Raising his voice, he continued : 
 
 " I didn't vant to bring her ; I vowed she 
 shouldn't come I But the Vite Rose and she 
 vagged their tongues agin me both at wonce. 
 An' vot can von poor old man do agen the 
 tongues of two vomen, ven they vork together 
 with a strong vill?" 
 
 A laugh went round the assembly. 
 
 " I don't vant to keep her I don't mean to 
 keap her!" continued the Daddy. " She ain't 
 no use to me she von't be no use to me I* 
 She's followed me 'ome here, like a strange 
 cur, an' I don't vant to give her 'ouae 
 room!" 
 
 "Drive her forth!'' cried the Gipsy King, 
 waving his hand with an imperious and impa- 
 tient movement. 
 
 " Drive her forth!" yelled a dozen voices ; 
 and several gipsy girls and men advanced men- 
 acingly toward her. < 
 
 With a cry of fright, Ida rushed to Floret, 
 and, throwing her arms round her, clung to 
 her. 
 
 "Do not let these horrible people drive me 
 away from you, Edith!" she exclaimed, in 
 tones of distress. 
 
OK, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 69 
 
 The Daddy seized hold of her, and, with 
 abrupt violence, tore her away from Floret. 
 He thrust her rudely back, so that she stagger- 
 ed and nearly fell. 
 
 "Go ayay be off with you!" he > cried, 
 in harsh, savage accents. "Get out"! Ve 
 den't van't nothen' to do with you no more 
 go!" 
 
 A loud, shrill hoot burst from the gipsy 
 women, and they moved up to the poor, horri- 
 fied girl, with threatening gestures. 
 
 Floret started at the alarming sound, but it 
 had not the effect of dismaying her on the 
 contrary, it seemed to rouse ak once her dor- 
 mant energies into energetic action. 
 . The Biddy had, after pushing Ida back, 
 once more laid hold of her wrist; but, with 
 one twist, she wrenched herself from him, and 
 darting up to Ida, she caught her round the 
 waist with one arm, and, drawing herself 
 proudly and firmly up, she waved the gipsies 
 back. 
 
 | " She shall remain with me !" she cried, with 
 a haughty dignity, and a glance of lofty scorn 
 at the people who were pressing upon her; 
 " or we will quit this hateful place together !" 
 ' " No no ! You don't quit no place vithout 
 me !" cried the Daddy, with a snarl, as he ran 
 up and made an attempt to seize her once 
 more. 
 
 She thrust him back, with a strength which 
 her roused spirit alone could have given her ; 
 and, hastily placing her hand in her bosom, 
 she drer/ fort?h her poniard, and, grasping the 
 hilt firmly, ehe cried, with passionate energy, 
 as she held it menacingly at the Daddy : 
 i " Stay where you are : this blade has, too, a 
 poisoned point 1 Liper Leper gave it to me, 
 and told me that it was venom-dipped he 
 would not have said that falsely to me ! Do 
 not move a step nearer to me, or you, who 
 have threatened me with death, shall receive 
 your death at my hands! You are diiving 
 m mad ! I will go with you no more ! I will 
 die first! Yew. shall not drive this poor, 
 bruised creature from me. We will remain 
 together, or we will die together! A scratch 
 & touch is death ! Aha aha ! You you 
 you have told me that!" 
 
 Floret enunciated these words with vehement 
 rapidity, but with a clearness and sharpness of 
 tone, which rendered every word she said audi- 
 ble to those even at a distance, and her knitted 
 browe, her flashing eyes, her flushed cheek, and 
 her lip curling with scorn and indignation, ex- 
 pressed a determinatiOQ, which assured the 
 Daddy, at least, that she would keep her word 
 if he attempted to seize her again. 
 
 It eeemed a little matter to spring upon her 
 and wrest that dagger from her, but the Daddy 
 was an experienced and cautious old man ; he 
 knew that even young girls possess considera- 
 ble strength when their anger is aroused and 
 they mean mischief, and he was aware, too, 
 that the simplest scratch, as Floret suggested, 
 accidentally received in a tussle, from the 
 weapon she held in her hand, would place him 
 in a condition to have fresh grass " a growin' 
 
 and a bio win' " over his head when the stars 
 were peeping out. 
 
 He therefore followed her counsel, and re- 
 mained where he was, looking for a favorable 
 opportunity to dash upon her, secure her wea- 
 pon, and, with it, her, too. 
 
 The gipsy woman and young men, when 
 they saw the antique poniard, and heard that 
 Liper Leper was the donor of it, drew back, 
 with a peculiar promptitude, which betrayed 
 their appreciation of the properties which the 
 little dagger possessed, and awaited events. 
 
 The poniard had a character. They were 
 not anxious to trust themselves within its un- 
 friendly reach. 
 
 Ida clung shiveringly to Floret, and whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " Do not let them separate us, Edith. I do 
 not fear to die, but do not let us be parted, un- 
 less by death." 
 
 Floret pressed her to her bosom, but her 
 atteation was so fastened upon the Daddy, that 
 she could not trust herself to speak. 
 
 She knew his treacherous cunning, and his 
 promptness for action when opportunities, for 
 which he was looking, presented themselves ; 
 she had eyes, therefore, for no one but him. 
 
 Not even to observe approach her a young 
 and etrikingly handsome man, but a gipsy, 
 who was better dressed and far more attractive 
 in appearance than any of the tribe there. 
 
 "Floret!" he ejaculated, in a soft, almost 
 plaintive tone. 
 
 At the sound of his voice, she turned her 
 head like lightning toward him. 
 
 "Liper Leper!" she cried. 
 
 " Liper Leper I" at the same moment ejacu- 
 lated the Daddy, changicg fiom a paie saffron 
 to a livid gangrene hue. 
 
 Liper Leper, for it was he, without seeming 
 to heed the amazement of either, said to 
 Floret, rapidly : 
 
 "A few words now; a conference anen. 
 Your friend must depart hence ; ever, as for a 
 time, you must remain here. You will trust 
 her with me ? I will treat her as gently and 
 as respectfully as I would even you. Per- 
 suade her to leave you, and quickly, too. If 
 ever you placed faith in me, Floret, you may 
 now." 
 
 Floret kissed Ida on the forohead. 
 
 "Go with him, dear Ida," she exclaimed. 
 " You will be far safer with him than with 
 me." 
 
 Ida looked at her affrightedly, and then at 
 Liper Leper. She had heard his words, and 
 his looks reassured her. 
 
 ' We shall be reunited? 1 ' she exclaimed, in- 
 quiringly, as she turned her eyes upon his. 
 
 "You shall!" replied Liper Leper, em- 
 phatically, though laconically. 
 
 Ida threw her arms about Floret's neck, and 
 kissed her passionately ; then she placed her 
 hand in Liper Leper's, and he led her away. 
 
 Floret gazed after her with a swelling heart, 
 as she saw her move quickly away. Bhe saw 
 her turn her face over her shoulder as she 
 went, and kiss her hand to her. 
 
60 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 She brushed away a tear that obtruded it- 
 self upon her eyelid, and stole down her 
 cheek ; for, as Ida disappeared, a feeling of bit- 
 ter loneliness took possession of her, and this 
 was the moment that the old Daddy selected 
 to spring upon her like a wild-cat, with the 
 intention of wresting the poniard from her, 
 and make her once again his captive. 
 
 But as he was on the eve of m&king his 
 spring, he was suddenly seized from behind by 
 a couple of tall, stalwart, wiry gipsies, who 
 each took a firm hold of the collar of his coat 
 and of liis wrists, and held him motionless, as 
 If he was in a vice. 
 
 A few futile attempts to struggle told him 
 that all endeavors to release himself by force 
 from the men who held him would be hope- 
 less ; and he gave up, and addressed himself 
 to the task of ascertaining what was to follow 
 this, to him, mofct extraordinary proceeding. 
 
 To his dismay, he beheld Hapar Lot pictur- 
 esquely attired in the dress of a Gitana a long, 
 dark-blue cloth cloak descending to her heels, 
 advancing toward Floret slowly, and with a 
 measured pace. 
 
 By her eide walked Elcia of Castile, her 
 aunt, who moved with the same step. 
 
 Hagar took the right hand of Floret, Elcia 
 the left. 
 
 Hagar turned her lustrous black eyes upen 
 Floret with a strange look, which partook 
 more of marvel than of mere curious scrutiny. 
 
 Whatever were her impressions, however, 
 ehe confined them within her own breast, and 
 said, laconically; 
 
 " Come with me, and fear not." 
 
 Floret glanced at her, and though ehe was 
 differently attired, and three eventful years 
 had wrought a change in her face, ehe recog- 
 nized her. It was she who had placed her 
 with the Misses Blixenfinik ; but it was she, 
 also, who had rescued her from the Daddy, 
 after he had seized her at Reigate, and who \ 
 had promised that she should never have cause 
 to fear him more. 
 
 She was present now, doubtless, to withdraw 
 her from hia hands, and she, therefore, opposed 
 no objection to her request. 
 
 She permitted her and her old gipsy aunt 
 to retain her hands, and she walked between 
 them to the foot of the simple throne of the 
 Gipsy King. 
 
 The men who had firm hold of the Daddy 
 also moved with their prisoner to the same 
 place; and the gipsies, who were circled 
 ( round, in their anxiety to gee and hear all that 
 ' passed, drew up closer, too. 
 | "When the former paused within a few feet 
 f of the king, the old monarch looked into the 
 > face of Hagar, and, for more than a minute, 
 ! Le never removed his eyes from her counte- 
 * nance. It was as though he was not only 
 examining with care every feature she pos- 
 sessed, but as if he was penetrating below 
 their surface to those depths which would re- 
 veal to him what was passing in her mind. 
 
 Slowly, at last, he removed his gaze from 
 her, and fastened it upon Floret's face ; but 
 for a few seconds only. 
 
 ' A fount pure and unp'lluted," he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 He next turned his eyes upon the Daddy's 
 excited countenance, and a marked change 
 passed lapidly over his features. He mum- 
 bled a few words, which were not audible. 
 Then he turned again to Floret, and, address- 
 ing her in a softer and kinder tone than she 
 had expected, he said : 
 
 "You are the Vild Vite Rose? Speak 
 don'6 be afeard, child answer me!" 
 
 "I have been so called by the Daddy, 
 she returned, in a low tone, pointing to him. 
 
 "You know the Daddy?" interrogated the 
 King. , 
 
 She shuddered slightly, and said, in the same 
 kind of undertone : 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " And you knows this youn g 'ooman, too ?" 
 he continued, pointing to Hagar. 
 
 " I have seen her before to-day," she replied, 
 hesitatingly, unknowing really what to an- 
 swer. 
 
 " "Werry good !""exclaimed the King ; " wer- 
 ry good !" 
 
 Then glancing at Hagar and at the Daddy, 
 be said, interrogatively 
 
 "You both on you claims her ? ' 
 
 " I do, unhesitatingly I" exclaimed Hagftr. 
 " The Daddy has ne claim to her whatever ! If 
 he has, let him prove it now ! If he does so to 
 your satisfaction, O Tawney Prince I I will 
 resign her to him without a murmur, and never 
 seek more to disturb him in his right to detain 
 her in his custody !" 
 
 "She is mine! mine! mif^l" cried the 
 Daddy, with quivering jawa. 
 
 The King turned his head slowly to lain, and 
 he said : 
 
 " Daddy "Windy, Maunder and Patrico, do 
 you remember your oath to me? ' 
 
 " Vot oath ?" inquired the Daddy, sharply. 
 
 A strange, shrill laugh burst from the lips 
 of the aged King: It was more like the howl 
 of a hyena than a human laugh. 
 
 The old man tossed up his hands in the air, 
 and, addressing the gipsies, cried shrilly : 
 
 " Crank cuffins ! Ven I axes the Patrico if 
 he remembers his oath to me, he axes me vofc 
 oath?' 
 
 A low murmur of derisive laughter ran round 
 the assemblage. 
 
 The Daddy felt his hair shoot out straight, 
 like stalactites, his blood prick and tingle, and 
 cold drops of perspiration creep down his 
 back, making his flesh crawl. 
 
 He was too experienced not to see that the 
 King and the whole fraternity were excited 
 against him, and he surmised that this feeling 
 might proceed far enough to rob him of the 
 White Rose. 
 
 But not without murder ! 
 
 Wholesale murder, if it were necessary ; but, 
 to a surety, the murder of the White Rose ! 
 TheseTeelings and thoughts, with many others 
 occupied but a second, for, assuming the cring- 
 ing manner he had so often adopted to Floret, 
 he said, in a fawning tone : 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 61 
 
 O ! Tawney Prince, does you mean the oath 
 of legence vich I, along of all the rest o' the 
 canters and cuffins, took ven you vos 'lected 
 king over us all?" 
 
 His Majesty, who sat all of a heap, with his 
 royal chin eubsimng to the depths of his loose, 
 blue- spotted handkerchief, grunted his as- 
 sent. 
 
 " I does, then," responded the Daddy, 
 promptly ; " every vord on ii !" 
 
 The King started up to his feet. His move- 
 ment had an electrical tfFect upon the specta- 
 tors. He gazed fiercely on the Daddy, and 
 eaid, in a harsh, guttural voice : 
 
 " Kneel, Patrieo, and repeat that oath!" 
 
 He turned to the assemblage, and cried 
 
 "Silence, all on you! Listen to the Pat- 
 rieo !" 
 
 Instantly the hubbub was hushed, and the 
 moaning of the wind, as it swept, soughing 
 through the swaying branches, and fretting 
 the restless leaves of the old trees, was the only 
 sound heard. 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 " Slowly the silence of tie multitudes 
 Pass'd, as when far is heard in some lone dell 
 The gathering of a wind among the woods 
 And he is fallen ! they cry ; he who did dwell 
 Like famine, or the plapue, or aught more foil, 
 Among our homes, is fallen ; the murderer 
 Who slaked his thirsting soul as from a well 
 Of blood and tears with ruin ! Ee is here ! 
 Sunk in a gulf of scorn from which none may him 
 rear ! THE REVOLT OP ISLAM. 
 
 Among the gipsy fraternity, the renewal, or 
 rather ratification, of an oath of allegiance was 
 a very unusual circumstance. In the instances 
 in which it did occur, and they were very rare, 
 the individual who was compelled to go 
 through the ceremony was suspected of in- 
 tending defection, or a design to get himself 
 placed in the seat of honor occupied by the 
 ruling Tawney Prince. 
 
 Now, as the Daddy was quite convinced that 
 lie neither contemplated defection nor the 
 usurpation of the throne, he could not com- 
 prehend why his loyalty should be doubted. 
 An uneasy suspicion that his quarrel with 
 Hagar Lot was at the bottom of it all, stole 
 through his brain; but he consoled himself 
 with the belief, that if his surmise should prove 
 to be truth, he had greater influence onthe fra- 
 ternity, and even with the monarch himself, 
 than she had, and that he should prevail 
 when the claims of both to the White Rose, 
 and the origin of their dispute, came to be dis- 
 cussed. 
 
 So, when the two muscular gipsies, who yet 
 held him in their grip, released their hold, he 
 slowly bent his old legs, and sunk upon his 
 knees before the Tawney Prince. 
 
 Then he said, in a husky, but yet loud and 
 rather high-pitched voice : 
 
 " I, Carkas Cooper, but Jby my baptized 
 name, Daddy Windy, a gipsy born, gipsy 
 bred, Maunder and Patrieo of my tribe, do 
 here, upon my knees, on the green grass vich 
 aome day shall kiver my breast, beneath the 
 broad eky, vithout a cloud or vith a cloud, in 
 
 the sunshine or the shadow, vn the stars are 
 Bleeping, place my palms to thy pilma, O 
 Tawney Prince, and by the Great All Powerful 
 and celestial spirit, Baal, I swear !" 
 
 The King rose up slowly, and with him the 
 Daddy, still keeping the palms of hia hands 
 resting upon those of the King's. 
 
 There was a slight movemeLt among the peo- 
 ple, but it was only made with the object of 
 catching every word he uttered. 
 
 The Daddy then went on to say : 
 
 "I, as a Crank Cuffin, vill be a true brother 
 vile the breath o' life continues in my body. I 
 vill in all things-" 
 
 " In all things !" iterated the King, with em- [ 
 phasis. \ 
 
 " In all things," repeated the Daddy, in a 
 eomewhat fainter tone, " obey the commands 
 of the great Tawney Prince. I vill keep his 
 counsel, and foller is ; and I vill not divulge 
 secrets, nor those o' the bruthrin." 
 
 " Ugh !" grunted the King. 
 
 " I vill not," continued the Daddy, " at no 
 time, an' for no cause, an' under no considera- 
 tion, nor temptation votsomdever, leave, quit, 
 or forsake the fraternity in yieh I vos born, to 
 vich I belong, and in vich I hope to die. I 
 vill obey all orders sent to me by my Prince, 
 through a lawful Cuffin, an' observe an' keep 
 all appointments vensoever an' veresoever 
 made, vether it be in the starlight, or in the 
 sunlight, in any place, if vitbin the reach of a 
 four-legeed prad or shanks' ten-toed trotter. 
 
 " I vill never disclose, nor vill I teach our 
 secret mysteries to any von out of kingdom 
 come, unless it be to a true an' regularly ad- 
 mitted an' s /torn Cuffin an' brother. 
 
 " I vill take my Prince's part agin all the 
 vorld. I vill not myself abuse nor deceive 
 him, nor vill I suffer any other, from an abram 
 to a curtal livin', to do so likewise ; bat I vill 
 defend him and every true brother, to the best 
 of my ability, against all outliers votever, tak- 
 ing or making no 'ception. 
 
 ^ " An' lastly. I vill never myself, nor vill I 
 aid any von else, indweller or outlier, to oppose 
 him, his vill, or his vord, his laws, or the laws 
 vich have been made for the good an' whole- 
 some governin' on us all." 
 
 This strange affirmation the Daddy ratified 
 by an oath of a very formidable character, 
 which it is not necessary here to repeat. 
 
 When he ceased, the King tossed up his 
 hands, and bade him stand back on the same 
 spot from which he had advanced to kneel to 
 him. 
 
 The Daddy obeyed him, with an aspect in 
 which there lurked a great amount of misgiv- 
 ing. 
 
 When he had approached the 'gipsy King to 
 kneel before him, he had dexterously returned 
 his knife to his coat-pocket ; and now, as he 
 glanced at Hagar, he thought of it, with a sen- 
 sation of devilish malignity 
 
 The King called Hagar Lot to stand forth. ', 
 
 She quitted the side of the ancient tvoman, 
 Elcia of Castille, and with a slow and stately 
 step approached him. 
 
62 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 When within a few feet of him, she paused, 
 and drawing her figure erect, she folded her 
 arms, and gazed steadfastly and sternly upon 
 him. 
 
 He returned her fixed gaze with one equally 
 steadfast, and he said, laconically, but emphat- 
 ically: 
 
 "Speak!" 
 
 " There is a law, O Tawney Prince, in force 
 among our people," she commenced, in aslovr, 
 but cle*r and marked tone, "which gives to 
 her charge eolely the child whom she may 
 have received from those who disdaia or fear 
 to acknowledge it as their own to the world. 
 As ehe receives it, so she has the right to exer- 
 cise an exclusive control over it, as long as she 
 pleases, or until, having married, it becomes 
 the property of another." 
 
 " That ia eo," rejoined the king. 
 
 Hagar pointed to Floret. 
 
 "This girl the nameless, the homeless, the 
 outcast was consigned to me by the only be- 
 ing living who had the power of doing so. I 
 took the bird from its nest, and upon myself 
 the responsibility of its support. I dared not 
 bring it to the tribe, for suspicion would have 
 fallen upon them ; and if it had been known 
 that it was concealed among our people, you 
 would all have been hunted through the land. 
 As it was, those who have traversed Kent 
 know how much of suffering, of insult, of 
 trouble, the name of the Poor Girl has caused 
 them." 
 
 A murmur of assent ran through the assem 
 bly, and for the moment arrested her speech. 
 As it subsided, she went on : 
 
 " To save our people from being hunted like 
 foxes from covert to covert, I placed her with 
 the Daddy, warning him that I should claim 
 her from him some day. Accepting a sum of 
 money, and a promise of more, he consented 
 to receive her on my conditions. Years of 
 suffering and sorrow to me passed away, but 
 the time arrived when it became necessary that 
 I should claim her. I did so. The Daddy, 
 violating his agreement, refused to restore her 
 to me he even threatened me with a scratch of 
 a poisoned knife if I attempted to take her away 
 from him. I was compelled to resort to strat- 
 agem to regain her ; and, having succeeded, I 
 placed her where she became the mistress of 
 book-lore, and those accomplishments whica 
 lady house- dwellers delight in. From this 
 place ehe fled, and fell into the Daddy's way. 
 He has again seized her, and I demand her 
 from him, having alone that claim to her 
 which our laws sustain, and which our people 
 resnect." 
 
 : The King, who had listened to Hagar with 
 undivided attention, turned slowly to the Dad- 
 dy, and exclaimed, with a peculiar emphasis : 
 
 " What answer can you make to Hagar ?" 
 
 The Daddy fancied that he knew the worst 
 now, and that by unhesitating recklessness of 
 assertion, and by plausibility, he might be able 
 to defeat her. 
 
 "Great Tawney Prince," he replied, in a 
 cringing, specious tone, "Hagar, the Castilian, 
 
 is a vondwful 'ocmam. She knows the atari 
 veil; she knows the natur' o' pisons fcetler 
 tban any on us. She can speak the langvidges 
 of many peoples beside her own ; an' she knows 
 equally veil how to make a goolden guinea out 
 o' a buttercup. If she can read the stars yeH, 
 she can read 'uman natur' better ; an' as even 
 Kings is 'uman and veak, she knows how, by 
 sooperior ingenooity, to get a good deal the 
 best o' the best on us. Vat chance, then, 'as a 
 poor old viddered objek like the Daddy ven 
 she seta herself up to oppose him ?'' 
 
 " Do epeak the truth like a man, athout fear 
 or favor,'an' not go beatin' about the bush like 
 a cat after a robin !" suddenly interposed the 
 Tawny Prince, snappishly. 
 
 ^The Daddy screwed up his eyea, and ground 
 his teeth together, but he stifled his rage, and 
 went on. 
 
 "Vell,thea," he eaid, "I own's as Hagar 
 brought to me the Vite Ross, as she r as told 
 you. She had stole it vile sleepin' in its bed 
 from Beechboro', in Kint, vich she hasn't told 
 you. She axed me to bring it up, an' to keep 
 it, an' she you'd pay me for its keep at so much 
 a month, vich she didn't. I kep it for yeers, 
 an' ven it vas taken from me, she neether 
 claimed it nor took it avay, it vos some von 
 else. Ven she guv it to me, an' didn't pay for 
 it, she made it mine by our own laws. An* 
 ven she came to me for it, it vos a'ter I had 
 stolen it for myself. Ven it vos captoored 
 from me, her claim vent avay with it ; ven I 
 stole i back, the gal vos my property, and 
 Hagar can't appeal to our IAWS and show me 
 von vhich gives her a ounce' claim to the Vite 
 Rose. II she can, then I'm done, and 111 be 
 dumb. Bat, Tawney Prince, there's a heap o' 
 money a hanging to this bloomin' fiowver, vich 
 vill be mine ven I restores her to her fami-ly, 
 as I shall do some day ven they vants her 
 'ome agen werry bad. Now, I am an old, an- 
 cient man, an' I don't s'pose that I've a werry 
 long perod o' felicious 'appiness an' boundin' 
 gladness to look forrard to. So, ven I gets the 
 goold I speak on through this 'ere little vite- 
 'art cherry bloasom, I shall divide the whole 
 on't betareen the lot on you I" 
 
 This promise of a piece of practical philan- 
 thropy was not without its effect upon the au- 
 ditory, aad they expressed their approba- 
 tion of his sentiments by a murmur of ap- 
 plause. 
 
 "He has already made a c or siderable sum 
 of money by the beauty of the Poor Girl," in- 
 terpolated Ilagar, " when he compelled her to 
 sell flowera a poor, ragged, bare-legged crea- 
 ture" 
 
 "Dressed as a forrin' princess, re-gardless 
 of expense!" interrupted the Daddy, sharply, 
 " varn't you, Vite Rose ? Didn't you capti- 
 wate the 'art of a yousg lord, ven, instead o' 
 being ragged and bare-legged, you vore a sky- 
 blue, star-spotted little gownd, fiich as fairies 
 dances in on moonlight nights, a pair o' ra'al 
 vite cotton stockin's on your bare legs, an* 
 bronze kid slippers, vich vern't sho'fuls, upon 
 your tiny feet, an' a wreath of roses uyon your 
 flnpwvybrowf" 
 
OR, THE FATE OP THE POOR GIRL, 
 
 63 
 
 A flush of scarlet it was a blush of humilia- 
 tionsuffused Floret's face, and, with an air 
 of vexation, she turned her face from him. 
 
 Hagar waved her hand impatiently. 
 
 "This is idle talk let ua end it. I stand 
 here, O Tawney Piince, upon my right. I 
 know this disowned girl's friends ; he does not. 
 H never can make a market of her secret 
 he never shall. I can restore her to them. I 
 may. If I do, it will be without asking, with- 
 out accepting nay, by refusing all recom- 
 pense. Give her to him, you doom her to 
 some years of shatnej of mental agony, to ruin 
 nay, to utter destruction ; restore her to my 
 charge, and, at least, she shall have her happi- 
 ness and her honor in her own keeping." 
 
 " Out-talk my right, if you can, Hagar, 'oo- 
 man," cried the Daddy, in excited tones; "I 
 appeal to our laws, an' I call upon our prince 
 to support them, as he has svorn to do. I 
 stole the Vite Rose ven ehe vos no longer 
 yourn, Hagar, 'ooman, to control, and she be- 
 longs to me by the unchangeable laws o' our 
 community." 
 
 " Silence, all !" cried the King. 
 
 Already the speeches of Hagar and the Dad- 
 dy had created quite a spirit of partisanship 
 in the listeners, and a discussion in a subdued 
 tone had commenced when the King uttered 
 his command to them to be silent. They 
 obeyed, and as soon as every sound was hush- 
 ed, he said : 
 
 " I have heerd both sides ; Hagar forfeited, 
 I think, all her right to further control over 
 the destiny of the Vite Rose, ven she, as ehe 
 has acknowledged, placed her to gain learnin' 
 vith house-dwellers." 
 
 " A course," muttered the Daddy. 
 
 " An' I thinks," continued the King, " that 
 the Patrico 'stabliehed a new an' indis- 
 pootable claim to her ven he kidnapped the 
 Vite Rose on his own account" 
 
 "A course," interpolated the Daddy. 
 
 41 Silence !" cried the King. 
 
 In a moment a huge hand was placed over 
 Daddy's mouth, and his voice became inau- 
 dible. 
 
 The King turned his eyes upon Floret, who 
 said to her, in a softer tone : 
 
 " Come nearer to me, Vite Rose. You are 
 old enough to r ave a eay in this matter, I 
 s'pose, an' you have a right, too, vich shall be 
 given to you." 
 
 ^ Floret stepped somewhat timidly up to the 
 side of Hagar, and bent her eyes upon him. 
 
 She gave a slight start. At his elbow stood 
 Liper Leper. 
 
 He raised his eyes to hers for a moment, and 
 , then he let them fall upon the ground. 
 
 She knew Liper Leper's ways so well, she 
 understood by that look that he was there to 
 prompt her how to act, and that she was not to 
 appear to recognize him. 
 
 She let her eyelids fall too. 
 
 " Now, Vite Rose," said the King, encourag- 
 ingly, " you must answer my questions, an' an- 
 Bwer'em truly. Don't be afeard to speak out, 
 or to speak plain ; a good deal o' jour own 
 
 comfort vill depend upon vot you say yourself. 
 Do you know who you are ?' 
 
 Floret; bent her head down, hurt and humil- 
 iated. 
 
 " I do net," she murmured, faintly. 
 
 " But you vill some day," responded the 
 King, in a soothing tone, " I dessay you vill ; 
 but ain't you got no idee, ain't you got DO 
 clue, no nothin', to prove who you are some 
 day, ven you gets a chance o' havin' your 
 rights?" 
 
 Floret shook her head sorrowfully. 
 
 " That's rather odd," he observed, reflective- 
 ly. " I've seen an' known a good deal about 
 kidnapped kinchins, an' they've gen'rally ad 
 a mark, a strorberree, or a bunch or' currants, 
 or a mouse, or a heervlg, or a lobster, or 'am 
 an' heggs, or summat as their mothers longed 
 for, or vos frighted at afore they wus born, or 
 elee they've had a little silver cross, or a goold- 
 en locket, or summat o' that kind, Ain't you 
 got nothin' o' the sort ?" 
 
 " Nothing," murmured Floret, almost inau- 
 dibly. 
 
 The King looked first at Hagar, and then at 
 the Daddy, and he said': 
 
 " As both on you claim her, I s'pose that 
 von or tother on you, or both it may be, have 
 got a token vich the fam-i-lv of the'Vite Rose 
 vill recognize ven they sees it." 
 
 They both remained silent. 
 
 At this moment, Floret, who had glanced 
 at Liper Leper several times, observed him 
 make a gesture to her. She understood him, 
 and her heart beat rapidly, but she remained 
 motionless. 
 
 " This is a little orkurd," observed the King, 
 musingly. " Fcr since you have nothing in 
 the vay of a token by which you may be re- 
 cognized by any von who might put in a bet- 
 ter claim than either Hagar or the Patrico, I 
 must yield you to " 
 
 Floret, with a sudden movement, bared her 
 wrist ; she held before the old man's eyes the 
 tryphon-shaped mark which Hagar had 
 marked upon it years back, and said, in as 
 clear and firm a voice as she could com- 
 mand : 
 
 "Behold this symbol! By it I may be 
 known I am EL YDAIOTTR!" 
 
 The King sprang to Ma feet, and threw up 
 his hands. 
 
 ^ Listen all !" he cried, in shrill tones, and 
 with trembling excitement. "The 'nigma is 
 read; the stars speak. The claims of "Hagar 
 the Castillian and the Patrico are swep' avay 
 like thistle-down afore the vind. Look upon 
 the Vite Rose as the Vite Rose no more. She 
 is EL YDAIOUR, the wandaer /" 
 
 " EL YDAIOUR, the WANDERER !" echoed the 
 men and the women, with strange wonder and 
 commotion. . 
 
 The King waved his hand for silence. 
 
 " The child is from the land of the friend- 
 less, from the roofless shed of the fatherless, 
 the motherless, the kinless," he exclaimed. 
 " She has no roof-tree but the sky, no bed but 
 the green, grassy turf. She has no tribe 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 among nations. She has no name among the 
 named ; ehe has no creed among the many 
 creeds ; no God but the one, true, universal 
 God the sun-god. She is a stranger, even 
 among the tribe of Ham. As a 'uman being, 
 she has no rights save one that is sacred to 
 her, and to be sacredly observed by us her 
 right is HOSPITALITY !" 
 
 A responsive and approving shout was sim- 
 ultaneously raised among the gipsies, whoex- 
 itedly edged nearer and nearer to the King ; 
 narrowing, each moment, the already limited 
 circle. 
 
 We will give her salt ; we will eat salt 
 with her," cried the King. 
 
 Another shout of approval responded to his 
 declaration. 
 
 " From this moment EL YDAIOUR is free to 
 us, free with UB, free from us. Her claim 
 overrules all others ; she commands from us 
 shelter and sustenance ; help in her distress, 
 assistance of the strong arm when she needs 
 it, and she MUST HAVE IT." 
 
 "She shall have it," cried the men and 
 women surrounding, mingling their voices to- 
 gether. 
 
 " The symbol on her wrist is a token to 
 which we all bow," continued the King, 
 hoarsely ; " it is one to which Hagar the Cas- 
 tillian, and Carkas the Patrico, must bend." 
 
 'They must!" cried the gipsies, sternly, 
 and with what seemed to be one voice. 
 
 The King turned te Floret, who had looked 
 upon the whole of this extraordinary incident 
 with a species of trembling wonder. 
 
 "EL YDAIOUR!" he exclaimed, emphatical- 
 ly ; " fear no more. Eveiy man here is your 
 protector ; every woman your servant and 
 your friend while you remain among us. You 
 may eat, drink, and depart in peace. You vill 
 stay so long as you likes, you leave us venyou 
 vish, and ven you goes your vay, neether 
 Hagar nor the Patrico dare to foller you, or 
 touch you ; if they do, they vill incur the 
 gipsy curse ; eyes vill flash at 'em, ^ tongues 
 hoot at an' scorn 'em, hands turn against 'em, 
 feet spurn 'm they vill be hunted and har- 
 ried, lashed and stoned, flogged and briered, 
 and, at the last 'our of their life, no sun shall 
 vatch them die, no sun see them live, no earth 
 shall receive their bodies, but they shall hang 
 and rot, bit by bit, day by day, year by year, 
 from the deadly vite branches of a vithered, 
 blight smitten tree, the gipsy's curse clinging 
 to them, so long as von bone of their frail car- 
 cases is left visible to the eye of man, or even 
 a bird. I have spoken. EL YDAIOUR, move 
 vre you vill, the Patrico and Hagar the Cas- 
 tilian shall not leave us, until you are far from 
 this, an' vere you may vish to be. Break up 
 all?" 
 
 As he concluded, he descended from his 
 turf-covered throne, and he moved slowly 
 away toward a small colony of tents at no 
 great distance. 
 
 At the same moment, both Hagar and the 
 Daddy made a movement toward Floret. The 
 two gipsies who had the Daddy in their cus- 
 
 tody accompanied him, however, and one oi 
 them whispered to him : 
 
 " Vere's the pisoned knife give it to me ?" 
 
 Tho Daddy mechanically put his hand in 
 his pocket, and passed it to nim without an ob- 
 jection or a word of remonstrance. The gipsy 
 glanced at it, and put it cautiously in an inner 
 pocket in the breast of his coat. 
 
 Floret, as she saw both Hagar and the Dad- 
 dy approach her, gave an alarmed look at 
 Liper Leper, who had remained whsre he stood 
 when he made the sign which had proved so 
 serviceable to her. In a moment he waa at 
 her side, and said: 
 
 "You have no cause for fear, Floret; you 
 are now even more powerful here than the King 
 himself." 
 
 "Ay!" exclaimed Hagar, bitterly, as she 
 overheard the last words; "more powerful 
 than I, who hold your happiness in my keep- 
 ing. I thought not, when I marked that sym- 
 bol on your wrist, so that I alone might know 
 you when a woman grown, that it would rob 
 me wholly of the power of injuring or of serv- 
 ing you. Henceforth our destinies, still inter- 
 woven, must move on in an uncontrolled 
 sphere ; I dare not attempt to further control 
 you ; I cease to take any active interest in 
 your fate. You are from this hour as free from 
 my influence as though you had never known 
 me, or as though I had never been born." j 
 
 She, as the last word quitted her lips, turn- 
 ed and pointed with a stern gesture to the 
 Daddy. J 
 
 " But you are also absolved from his power!" 
 she exclaimed, displaying her white teeth in 
 the rancor with which she spoke. "You 
 have drawn his fangs, hi) claws ; his sordid 
 avarice can never again reach you his Jevil- 
 ish malignity harm you. He has threatened 
 you with death from a poisoned weapon he 
 <lare not from this moment touch you, even in 
 play, with a feather. H IP ly not even speak 
 to you, unless you will it -mark me, unless it 
 be with your will, or at your wish. And this 
 privilege extends to me as to him. If it is 
 your wish to speak to me, I will speak with you 
 aloEe. I will lift the seals from my lips, I will , 
 tell you who you are and what you are, if you ' 
 dare to hear it. I have no longer any motive , 
 in keeping hidden from you that which you : 
 must some day know ; and I will, therefore, if 
 you desire it, at once disclose to you all I know ' 
 concerning your secret history, and then bid 
 you farewell forever.'' 
 
 " O, I desire most earnestly to learn all I 
 can of my true history !" exclaimed Floret, 
 anxiously. " I will speak with you alone now, 
 at this moment, and I entreat you to keep 
 nothing hidden from me 1" 
 
 " Are you prepared to listen to that which 
 you may hereafter wish, from the depths of a 
 broken heart, had never fallen upon your ears ?" 
 asked Hagar, gravely. 
 
 " I am prepared for every consequence," 
 cried Floret, eagerly. " No anguish, no tor- 
 ture can equal that which my absolute ignor- 
 .ance of who and what I am hourly inflict? 
 
OB, THE FATE OF TEE POOR GIRL." 
 
 5 
 
 npon my heart." * ; Follow me to try tent, atd 
 you shall know all," rfspordedll'igur. 
 
 She turned and moved slowly a 17 *y. Flortt 
 looked at Liper Leper. lie motioned Ler to 
 follow Hagar, and she moved ftw*y in obedi 
 encetobissign. 
 
 The Diddy, however, stretched out his arras 
 to her, and cried, hoarsely : 
 
 " Yite Rose -Vi Vite Rose, don't leave me 
 don't go ay ay vith Hagar, don't you ^ill 
 rob me of 'all of -all all my goold my 
 goold " 
 
 Toe worda seemed to die in his throat his 
 head rolled horribly from eide to side, and he 
 fell forward upon the grocnd in a fit. 
 
 CHAPTER XVT 
 " ! 'Hs not, Hinda, in the power 
 Of Fanc.v 's moat terrific loach 
 To paint tby paogs in that dread hour 
 
 Tfcy fcilent apooy 'twas snch 
 As tfcose if ho let 1 could paint too well, 
 Bat none t'er felt at.d lived to ttll ! 
 'Twas cot alone the dreary state 
 Of a lore spirit crush'd by fite, 
 W^en, though no more remains to dread, 
 
 The panic chill will not depart- 
 When, though the inmate, Hope, be dead, 
 
 Her ghosteuil haunts the moldeting heart. 
 No pleasures, hopes, affections gone, 
 The wretch may bear and jet live on, 
 Like things wi hin tho cold rock found, 
 Alive whrn all's congtal'd around ; 
 But theie'a a black repose in this, 
 A calm stagnation, that were bliss 
 To the keen, burning, harrowing pain 
 2fow felt through ail her breast and brain 
 From whose hot throb, whose deadly aching 
 The heart hath no relief but breaking." MGOBE. 
 As Hagar reached her tent, her eyes fei 1 
 tipon a middle-aged man, reclining upon the 
 sward close to it, who had a swarthy complex- 
 ion, handsome features, and long, straggling, 
 glosey black hair. He was picture equtly at- 
 tired ; and, though cot a model of cleanliness, 
 either in skin or garb, he tras yet not unat- 
 trative in his appearance. He was smoking a 
 black clay pipe, and appeared to be buried in 
 a fit of profound abstraction. 
 1 The brow of Hagar lowered a| she gazed 
 upon him, and she stopped short abruptly. 
 She turned back, said a lew concise words in 
 Spanish to the aged woman, Elcia, who ac- 
 companied her, and striking off in a direction 
 whicLt led into a thickly-wooded part of the 
 hill, she motioned to Floret to follow her. 
 Elcia, the Castilian, by her directions, pro- 
 ceeded to the man whom Hagar bad evidently 
 avoided, and Floret, whose mind was too 
 much occupied by conjectures relative to the 
 revelations ehe expected immediately to hear 
 to care whither she was conducted, followed 
 Hagar into the wood. 
 
 It was not necessary to proceed far to ob- 
 tain both seclusion and security from listener?, 
 and Hagar paused in a wild, gloomy, narrow 
 copee, until Floret reached her. Tbea, cast- 
 ing her e^es slowly round her, she said : 
 
 " We will rest here. What I have to reveal, 
 and jou to hear, may now be ppoken unre- 
 servedly. In this spot there will be no other 
 eyes than our own to watch us no other 
 ears than ours to catch up our words." 
 
 " Be it as you tbink besf," returned Floret ; 
 4i I am in your hands, and I have no choice." 
 ' You have the choice of declining to bear 
 what; I am able, and what I am ready to com- 
 mnnicate to jou," rejoined Hagar, gazing fix- 
 ed iy at her. 
 
 FJoret rai-ed her hea3, and turned her 
 merble-hued face to Hagar. She drew bereelf 
 up eomewhat proudly, and answered firmly : 
 
 " No ; I h*ve noS even that choice. The 
 deeire to know who I em, from whence 
 sprung wherefore I sheuld be eurrornded by 
 mjetmes which are to rce iacomprehf ntible - 
 why I am not only an outcast, but that indi- 
 viduals, to whom I cannot possibly be ailied 
 by any lies of affinity, should strive to exer- 
 cise a powtr over rce is like a raging ftver- 
 thirst, which would force me to driikYrom a 
 chalice, although I were forewarned that the 
 liquor it contained was poison." 
 
 J'lt is a poisoned cbaiiee only which I can 
 offer," returned Hagar, with slow emthaeia. 
 " Will you drink from it ?" 
 
 " I vill drain ii, though it were all dregs,'' 
 responded Floret, readily. 
 
 'It is all dregs," replied Hagar, sharply; 
 " bitter, noisome dregs. Small as are your 
 chances for future happiness, it will be bttte-, 
 perhaps, for you to rest with resignation be- 
 neath the murky vail which covers jou, than 
 to pu*i forth even a finger to lift it." 
 
 " You are speaking still in enigmas to me !" 
 exclaimed Floret, impatiently. " What are 
 you ? What do you know me ? Tour parh ia 
 such as I have read, the Spanish Gitani wears ; 
 your language, your marner ia not that of a 
 gipey. In what way are you connected Tvish 
 me? Speak, I implore you epe?k to me in 
 the plainebt ternis. What I hf.ve to learn 
 purely needs no euch preparation as you are 
 bestowing upon it." 
 
 " I would spare your feelings as much aa I 
 can," observed Hagar, calmly. 
 
 "But you are toituring them!" persisted 
 Floret, agitatedly. ' If it be in your power to 
 tell me who I am, what I em, and to what f 
 have to look forward in the future, have mercy 
 upon me, and tell me at occe! My feelings 
 have not hitherto met with such conpidemte 
 attention with you or any one, save Minima 
 Atten such aixious interest has not been 
 hitherto exhibited in my welfare, that ycu reed 
 hesitate now to ccmrnunicate to me, briefly, 
 whatever you may know, even though it way 
 cost me eonjte bitter pangs." 
 Hagar waved her hand. 
 "I have the interests and the secrets of 
 others in my custody, es well ss yoms," ehe 
 replied. " You must hear your etory as I 
 think it expedient to tell it, or not at til." 
 
 " I am silent!" ejaculate,! Floret, in a tone of 
 forced resignation. 
 
 "I have" already spoken to you of love," 
 pursued Hagar, wich a thouerbtfn} espect, end 
 with her large, resplendent black e r s fastened 
 abstractedly upon the f reaey Hllocko before 
 her. "Ifc is a sentiment a passion a mad- 
 nessit recks little what ; " but it is ft feeling 
 
IIAGAR LOT ; 
 
 of which yoa can at preent fcnow colt ing. I 
 hope you Lever may. You muet h*ve re*d cf 
 its efl'ttCfB in bocks; and you mey, fa your 
 young Leart, find eomo paliia'ive <xcu*e for 
 those who, having endured its wildest emo 
 tione, Live been overpowered by them and 
 have fallen." 
 
 Ilagar crew a deep breath, and then went 
 on: 
 
 "Years past, a young Count of Spain, rid- 
 ing through a wood in Andalusia, was ebot by 
 en unseen hair'. The bullet brought him to 
 the ground, and laid him eenetkea there. A 
 young fcirl, not older than yourself, beard the 
 shot, the wild cry of agony which burst from 
 the lips of the woundtd man, the clattering of 
 the horse's feet aa he Hid fcffiighlertly down 
 tbe ? lade, and f be hastened to the f pet from 
 whence the shriek of egory arose. There, 
 Beneelees, t-he found stretched the Heeding 
 body of the youthful cavalir. She was a 
 Gitita, a daughter of the Cage's one of the 
 tribe it was whose pistol-shot had leveled tbe 
 poor jouth to tbe ground. But Ler father was 
 a Count of tbe C iiej, and be loved his child 
 better than bis life. She summoned him to 
 her fide, and by bis aid the wounded cavalier 
 was borce to a lent, and there his hurt was ex- 
 amined. 1 5 was not f itsl ; tbe lead h%d struck 
 no vital part, but he had lost much blood, and 
 Was too weak to be moved after bia wound was 
 dree ?ed. He did not quit; the tent or the wood 
 for mor.tts after that event. 
 
 ** The girl, for the period I have mentioned, 
 was alcnott bia sole attendant. Bbe smoothed 
 his pillow-; she banded him the cooling drinks 
 necessary to subdue bia malady, and tbe 
 fragrant fruits to ncoisten Lia parched lips; 
 Bbe fcmilt d upcn tim to cheer him in his lone- 
 liness; sang to him, danced to him to the mu- 
 sic of her guitar, end exhausted fall the pretty 
 arts of which tbe was mi' tress, to prevent bis 
 xnin 1 f inking into astate of dejected dolor dur- 
 ing bid enfeebled state. 
 
 *' Sie was rewarded by his recovery, she was 
 reward* d with his love, she was rewarded with 
 his hand for be married ter, and l.ved with 
 her end with ber people, the Ca'e*, for a year. 
 At tbe expiration of that j ear, a child was born 
 to them. ID was a girl. The Count loved ii 
 as he loved its mother, passionately ; and he 
 resolved that tbe dweller of tbe woods, the 
 mountain fastnesses, the pathless forests, and 
 at times tbe vne clad suburbs of some rf 
 Spain's fairest cuies, should hfave a palace for 
 a home, highly cultivated estates for ber w*n- 
 dcrirjfcs ; tnd, instead of tie Gitan', La Ecan- 
 tadeVa, sbe should become Senora DOHA de 
 Qu xada de Vtlaeco Countees de Orsoi o, and 
 bwdaugb'er be converted from La Gitani to 
 S.-n' TiraDc-ua Angelica deQiixada do Yelasoo 
 de Oreono. 
 
 * lu u e fulfillment of Ms intension, fce pre- 
 sented birr self before bis father, the bead and 
 the baugbtie^t member of OBO of tbe cldett 
 farail^es of Castile. Hi was received with 
 great joy aid much rejoicing. In tbe f aline s 
 pf hw Heart, and the excitement of bia delight 
 
 at b's sfTec'ionate rfce pfon, he pave to bia 
 f >mily u history of his acch'en*. an i ir. re^u't. 
 Iltfppoke in plowing termi of hisb-aui'iil 
 youcg wifoard Lii beloved c l ild, eud u he 
 i jcrettped in enthuaia^m, Le euddebly perceived 
 'is hfHriis eubtirir> into a cVld eiiecco 
 Wt-cn be b-id concluded, tkey were frcztn into 
 figures cf iee. 
 
 ' He win u mipor, and bis proud fatbor made 
 ebort work cf ibe matter. By the laws of 
 8puin Le was unable to contrt-c 1 ; a marriage 
 without bis parent's consent be was una v .le 
 to con'rac** a mBrriace with ore who was with- 
 out tbe pale< fhisCou.ch. The naniagewas 
 at cnce atntlled, as though ii hid i evt r teen. 
 The Count was throwa in^o prison by his 
 father, because beiebelled viih frintic iierc- 
 ne-s and dt spirit ion agbiost Lisuuthonty,a.d 
 aaaicst hia Gispoeition of i ff Jra ; eiid n'\ roop 
 cf drjgoora was dispatched to diivetia un- 
 bapfy wife alas! wife no l.rg^r wi h Ler 
 offrtprincr, cut of Castile, and, through tbe Duke 
 de Oreono's great influence, even out cf the 
 kingdom cf Spain. 
 
 " Tbe merci!e?s fither was determined that 
 the sangre azul, tbe * blue blood' wtrch flowed 
 in bis veils, thould not b conteminftted by 
 ary taint drawn from one cf a tribe < f Eastern 
 origin, and he effected bia o v j^ci. He separa- 
 ted tbe biiefly bappy psir forever on earth. 
 
 " El Corde Orsono lost Lia life in leaping 
 from Lia prison window into a moat beneath 
 it, in en attempt to escape, and hia love alee ! 
 bis wife EO longer LaEticantadera, died of a 
 broken heart, after the lid ID go convened toiler 
 aluH ! too soon communicated to htr. 
 
 4< Now, Floret, mtuk me ! Ihe Con<?6 Orso- 
 no was myfiihtr, Li Encan?accra waa my 
 mother. Whnt cm I? DJ ytu comprthend 
 me, girl? Wbat posuion do I hold in the 
 world? Answer toe!'' 
 
 Fluret gazed upon ber with a species of ter 
 ror, but remained silent. 
 
 Hngar'aejea f? ashed wi'h a fiery brilliancy 
 as sKc lepeated her question. 
 
 "Waat em*I in tb3 ejes cf the Church? 
 What am I in the ejea of the Jaw? "What am 
 I ia the estimation of that huge hypocrisy, 
 'society?' A pariah! an outci&t! a name- 
 less creature of shame! Do jou uncei stand 
 me now, Floret?" 
 
 Floret compressed her hands ; a feeling of 
 dntaess stsle over ber. 
 
 " I cannot tee tbat you are an object of ho> 
 milia'ion," ebe eaid, f<umly ; * for j our father 
 acd your mother were married, and by a 
 ehujr h cereoioiial,! presume ?'' 
 
 ** Toey were," rejoiced Ilagar, quickly. 
 "The words invoked by the pne.-t who united 
 them were 'Thcte wnotn God has joined let 
 EO man put asunder! But nnndid puh them 
 asuncer; Le made their ma-riage-ceremcny a 
 mockery, and cf me a creiture cf shame a 
 thing of ibe world, not legitimate! I cannot 
 inberit I cannot claim tte l*w's protec ion! 
 I have norigbts I, the daugofcr cf aCount 
 cf Spain, am tbat humiliated object of ccntu- 
 mehoua reproach, a ray throat swell* at the 
 
OR, THE FATE OP THE POOfc GIRL. 
 
 ward I arn in the eyes of the law 
 a bastard T' 
 
 836 grraaed as she forced the words out 
 au-.l \ hick drops of perspiration stood upon her 
 brow. 
 
 Floret, as if a presentment of tbe revelation 
 which was to fallow this painful history t tele 
 over Ler mind, feli a strange numbness about 
 the heart, and a ringing ia the ears which 
 made it a most difficult for her to bear distinct- 
 ly Hagar's words. She could not true* ter self 
 toutttr a word. She stood motioiksp, and 
 gazed kteudfistly, wonderingJy, and with a very 
 pained expreesion, at ter Eingular companion. 
 
 At length, Ilagar, somewhat recovering her 
 composure, said to her : 
 
 ' I now address myself, Floret, to your past. 
 I have told yen that I would elucidate it by an 
 illustration. I have givea you one you can 
 apply it." 
 
 "No! nol no!" half- shrieked the distressed 
 girl, with a horrified look. 
 
 * Nay, you must have the facts, then." re- 
 joined Ilagar, turning her face away from her 
 ghasiJy countenance. It seemed as if she was 
 unable to witnees unmoved the wild and des- 
 perate gasping* for breath with which Floret 
 listened to words, every one of which fell blis- 
 tering upon her heart like drops of molten 
 lead. " You entreated me to conceal nothing 
 from you you shall know all. At least, all 
 that is essential for you to know. For wh&t 
 can is matter to you how or where your par- 
 ents met, it will suffice, alas ! for you that they 
 did meet. At that fated hour "j our mother 
 waa of your age, no more, and as like you in 
 feature and in form as it may be possible for 
 twin sisters to be ; with this <Meren ce only, that 
 she was reared in pampered luxury, you in 
 poverty and wretchedness ; and she, therefore, 
 possessed outwardly all the superiority of ap- 
 pearance and carriage which euch advantages 
 would give her. She wae, however, ia temper 
 imperious, Belf-willed, impatient of conteJ, and 
 needed a mother's most anxious and solicitous 
 care, and unhappily failed to receive it. At 
 the very moment she should have been fenced 
 round with her mother's discrimiraiion, judg- 
 ment, and affectionate counsel, she met and 
 in secret one whose form was framed to make 
 a joucg girl's hea>t leap out of her own keep- 
 ing into his one capable of captivating her 
 young and innecent imagination, and who hes- 
 itated not; to do it one *ho, having extorted 
 her heart from her, had not oce to give in re- 
 turn. No doubt, the paesion which thus sprung 
 iptD existence was, while it lasted, a sweet de 
 lirium a term of happy infatuation. But the 
 awakening came. She who had slumbered the 
 most uneuspiciouely, found the return to con- 
 sciousness a process 01 unmitigated horror. 
 She awoke to the discovery that she had been 
 made the dupe of an insincere, a hearlesa vil- 
 lain ; that the heart she had yearned for for 
 which ehe had wholly and completely resigrcd 
 herselfbad not been surrendered t j her ; nay, 
 that the had loved a creature with no hesrt. 
 She awoke to this discovery, as I have paid. 
 
 f "om one short dream of bliss ; but sire awoke, 
 also, to tte horror that she joung, fair, of 
 pitriciftu e'escect poseeaatd, ia lieu of this 
 he*rt Gkeat Spirit! a child I 1 ' 
 
 Ilagar paused as, with a ecatbirg empha'is, 
 the uttered t'icse teriible words, and ehe gazed 
 earnestly en Floret. 
 
 Tbe la*.ter was standing as before, pale and 
 motionless, like a joung tree that bad been 
 struck by a lightning- shaft, and withered. 
 
 Etr face was absolutely colorless ; her eyes 
 were fixed upon the pallid, jellow face of Ha- 
 gar; her li^s were apart, and through them 
 her breath went and came wi'.h agonizing diffi- 
 culty; but not a sound escaped them, not a 
 muscle in her frame quivered, nor did her eye- 
 lids tremble ; but she gazed at Hagar with a 
 eearctting, settled, penetrating scrutiny, which 
 she did not, while she was ppeukiog to" her, for , 
 a moment avert. , 
 
 The steadfastness of her look slightly dis- 
 concerted the gippy ; but sbe turm d Ler bhck 
 ejea upon the turf, and, as if unaffected by it, 
 proceded with her harrowing communication. 
 
 "The child of whom I have spoken," ehe 
 said, in her usual low, grave tone, " waa 
 brought into life in secret it waa conveyed 
 away in secret to an obscure place, and in- 
 trusted to people who had no idea, and wera 
 not likely to have any conception cf its par- 
 ents. It was a thing without a name ; its lot 
 was one yet mere degraded than my own not 
 even the mockery of a ceremony was gone 
 through wi:b, which might have consecrated 
 its birth. It was tbe offspring cf guilt, end ia 
 the firct moment of its unhappy exisierce it 
 became an object cf eharce. 
 "Poor little i nnocent, miserable, nameless 
 fcject! it was born to mkfortune.born to trial 
 and trouble, born to be itself ever wretched, 
 and to be the cause cf misery to others, ay, 
 even in the breasts of those who best loved it! 
 Its father well, we will not speak of him, save 
 to say, that ere it had been born a twelve- 
 month, ie married a young lady of fair fame 
 end much wealth. Ita mother very quickly 
 afterward gave her hand in marriage to cne of 
 the wealthiest and haughtiest peers of this 
 great kingdom. She ignored the existence of 
 her child ; but married that proud Lord in her 
 maiden rame as a young, innocent girl, of un- 
 blemished reputation married him as one en- 
 titled honestly to wear her father's name, until 
 she changed it for that of the illustrious Lord 
 who made her his Marchionesa. 
 
 " Tbe offending pair moved on each other in 
 their high sphere, neither waeting a thought 
 upon the unhappy proof of thtir guilfc ; but 
 neicher winning a moment's happiness out of 
 the course they had each laken, in the expecta- 
 ticn of securing tbe const ant enjoyment of hu- 
 man pleasure! The child proceeded on its 
 des'ky. A young girl, who had been reared 
 with tbe mother of tbe babe, and who loved 
 her truly end tenderly, took charge of the off- 
 spring intending, no doubt, to take the place 
 of the parents who had so barbarously desert- 
 ed it ; but tho child, in the fulfillment of ita 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 iwtiny, brought only woe to this unhappy 
 girl. Her lover, to whom she refused to dis- 
 ke the poor child's secret, taxed her with 
 being its einful mother. Poor girl ! the result 
 of that bitter quarrel was, that one morning 
 poor Fannv Shelley was found drowneo-~mur- 
 dered, too^-in a deep brook near Beachbor- 
 njzh-" 
 
 yioret tried to scream to shriek but no 
 cmd came from her lips. She gasped, she 
 panted, and struggled for breath, in a manner 
 terrible to witness. 
 
 Hinging in her brain were words, which had 
 oddenly come back to her with dreadful 
 Jaree. 
 
 They were these : 
 
 u God bless poor Grandmamma Fanny!" 
 
 She writhed and twisted with the destroying 
 agony of the inward emotion wiiich was con- 
 Taking her. At length, two or three low, 
 Ittarse sobs burat from her lips, and she said, 
 interrogatively, in a tone which almost con- 
 gealed the blood of Hagar in her veins : 
 
 11 1 I am that child '?" 
 
 * You are !" returned Hagar, in a voice as 
 3uree as her own. 
 
 J/loret tossed her hands wildly above her 
 Itad, uttered a cry cf agony, a prolonged wail- 
 vag, anguished, despairing cry, and fell lifeless 
 vpon the cold, rank grass. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 91 Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the 
 
 JBat with its sound there was mingled a voice that 
 
 whispered ' Despair not!' 
 Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheer- 
 
 less discomfort, 
 Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns of 
 
 existence. 
 l*fc me essay, Muse I to follow the wanderer's foot- 
 
 steps." EVAKflEUKI. 
 
 It was long before Floret could be said to 
 ifce sufficiently recovered to comprehend all 
 hat had transpired ; but Hagar, with a curi- 
 QS ferocity which was actually not intended 
 te> be such, compelled her to recall the lead- 
 jag features of the disclosures which she had 
 made, in order that they might together ex- 
 ^imsfc the subject. 
 
 " For," continued the latter, " it is improb- 
 j&le, after we have parted to-day I had al- 
 aaost said impossible, but nothing is impossi- 
 ble, you may yet discover even that that we 
 should meet again. You have yourself de- 
 prived me of the power of even serving you. 
 You have appealed to our Tawney Prince to 
 protect you ; he has done so by withdrawing 
 irem both myself and the Daddy the power 
 ; cf interfering in any fashion in your interests. 
 After you are on your way to the great capi- 
 \ tod, to which you are directing your steps, 
 ? feoth he and I will have to undergo a ceremocy 
 which will withdraw from your future faie 
 all interposition either of hid or mine. Now, 
 jemembering all that I have communicated to 
 reflecting what you are what you know 
 behave you aught further to ask 
 
 who had stood crouching and tremb- 
 ling, with head bowed like one stricken with a 
 palsy, now slowly raised her form erect, and 
 took two or three paces backward and for- 
 ward upon the turf. She passed her thin 
 hands over her pinched temples, ehe pressed 
 her attenuated fingers upon her pinked eye- 
 lids, as if to press the light out from her aching 
 ejes. Sue drew a deep breath, then pausing, 
 she halted before Higar, and with a firmness 
 of demeanor for which she was not prepared, 
 she said, in a low, hard tone : 
 
 " Tell me the name of the the woman whom 
 you have said is my mother, and a marchion- 
 ess " 
 
 Hagar, though a little startled, turned her 
 brilliant dark eyes upon Floret's, and gazed 
 into them searchiogly. Floret bere her glit- 
 tering, steadfast examination, without waver- 
 ing. 
 
 " Coupled with iV said Hagar, slowly, 
 with a slight scornful expression upon her lip, 
 " the name of him who is your father, and an 
 earl." 
 
 If Floret's cheek could then have cast a 
 white reflection upon unsullied enow, those 
 words would have helped to make it even jet 
 whiter ; siiil they did not strike her down, nor 
 did she permit them to compel her to give any 
 outward sign of the almost unendurable in- 
 ward agony which they occasioced her. 
 
 She only said : 
 
 " I do not wish to hear it to know it." 
 
 " Not that you may curse it," exclaimed 
 Hagar, with passionate bitterness hissing 
 the words, indeed throngh her closed teeth. 
 
 *' The name of my mother. I ask only that?" 
 rejoined Floret, speaking with forced calm- 
 ness, and almost closed eyelids. 
 
 E^ar regarded her attentively. 
 
 " Why do you ask for that aloae?" she in- 
 quired, somewhat earnestly. 
 
 " If you cannot gueas, it would be us' less for 
 me to enlighten you," returned Floret, as frig- 
 icily as before ; " give me the name of the 
 wemanof wbom you have been speaking?" 
 
 A perceptible shudder ran through Higar's 
 frame. Sne raised her hand partly up, and 
 eaid, in a low voice : 
 
 " That jou may curse her. No," she added, 
 vehemently ; "no. You are a girl a mere 
 child you will yet be a woman. You have 
 not loved, you may love: then you will learn 
 to know what a woman will do for the man ehe 
 loves ; you will discover that while he hesi- 
 tates, reflects, and reasons, she acts. She 
 gives to him her heart, her life, her soul ; she 
 intrusts him with name, fame, leputation, hap- 
 piness, all that can make life valuable, or love 
 estimable, or the world a paradise You will 
 learn to know how she clings tohiml'ke a ten- 
 dril to him alone entwining round him all 
 her affections, hopes, and aspirations J rawing 
 joy, felicity, even life itself from him , and 
 jou may yet learn that, after having done this, 
 after having yielded without a murmur nay, 
 with joy, all that I have enumerated ay, 
 more ; he wrenches her irom about him from 
 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 hia heart, from his daily life and casts her 
 from him, as though, like the ivy, she were a 
 pestiferous weed, which destroys all that it 
 clings to. Curse the tempter, not the tempted ! 
 Curse the living blight, not the bligbted! 
 Curse the destroyer, not the fallen ! Curse 
 him that made of a living, lovbg human heart, 
 generous without limifc to him, the toy of a 
 day ! Curse him who, hav."ng by wiles, and 
 lures, and falsehood, won a heart which is 
 priceless to the giver, &sd should be to him, 
 fritters it away piecemeal, or madly shatters 
 it!- but curse not her whose miserable exam- 
 ple even you may follow." 
 
 " In the name of that Almighty Power, in 
 whose dread presence we may boin, perhaps, 
 shortly stand, nave mercy upon me and en- 
 large no more upon this s^ject," interposed 
 Floret, speaking with deep inward agooy. " It 
 is now plain to me that you are, and have 
 been, the agent of the unnamed Marchioness 
 who is who is my " 
 
 Her voice became choked with emotion, and 
 he paused. f 
 
 Hagar comprehended her meaning, and 
 said: 
 
 " You surmipe correctly." 
 
 Floret waved her hand. 
 
 "It is plain that she is desirous that I 
 should not hear har name, that she should 
 never hear of me me more," she continued, 
 speaking rapidly and with much excite- 
 ment. 
 
 " Your impression could not be more faith- 
 ful had you heard from me the wishes that she 
 has expressed," answered Hagar, with slow 
 emphasis ; " and " 
 
 " ft is enough !" exclaimed Floret, impa 
 tiently. 
 
 " It is not yet all !" rejoined Hagar. 
 
 " I tell you, it is enough !" cried Floret, Im- 
 petuously ; "I will hear no more." 
 
 " You must, hear more I" returned Hagar, 
 clutching at her wrist as she was about to quit 
 the copse. "A tigress will provide for its 
 yourg. Although the Marchioness, of whom 
 we have spoken, desires neither to see nor to 
 hear of you that you should never hear her 
 name breathed she, nevertheless, does not 
 forget that you are a young, unfriended girl, 
 that you will have requirements, needs, and 
 wants, with which, though she has supplied 
 you with a good education, you will be unable 
 to provide yourself. She has, through me, 
 made arrangements to provide you with money 
 when you greatly need it. You will need 
 some now, when, having fled from your school, 
 you are hurrying you know net whither. I 
 am aware that you have chosen London as 
 your destination, but I am aware, tooj what 
 there awoita a poverty-stricken girl, endowed 
 with beauty, who is starving, while looking, 
 with achiug heart, for something to do by 
 which she can earn a living. I have a purse 
 of money here ; it is yours, and if you should 
 expend it before you have obtained employ- 
 ment, here is an address to which you can send 
 a note, in which alone you will put the name 
 
 and number of the place in which you reude, 
 and toe words, ' I am in want.' " 
 
 As Higdr concluded, she attempted to place 
 in Fioret'a hand a seemingly ^well-stored puree, 
 but Floret recoiled from her with a sudden, 
 piercing cry of horror, and she started back 
 her elf. 
 
 Recovering herself, however, quickly, she 
 again advanced to Floret, and, forcing the 
 purse into her hand, she said, with empha- 
 sis : 
 
 " To refuse this would be childish sentimen- 
 talism." 
 
 But Floret, with a renewed cry of agony, 
 hurled the purse from her, and, sobbing only 
 as one who has a broken heart sobs, tottered 
 ' ra'her than ran out of the copae. 
 
 Hagar watched her as she departed ; she 
 did not offer to stay her, but she breathed 
 heavily as she disappeared. 
 "Poor Girl!" she muttered; " her destiu j 
 is a hard one, but the planet which rules that 
 destiny has prognosticated suffering only for 
 it, it portends danger and suffering still. I am 
 but an instrument of the stars. I would fain 
 not go on with the task I have undertaken, but 
 nay destiny and hers will that it should be so. 
 Bat I will not lose sight of her, despite what 
 theTawney Princa may decree, and I can find 
 a willing hand to aid me, though palm to palm 
 he compels me to swear to refrain evermore 
 from stepping between the Wanderer and her 
 lot. 
 
 She picked up the purse which Floret had 
 cast away ia scorn as she concluded, and se- 
 creting it about her person, she moved slowly 
 out of the copse. 
 
 As the intertwined leaves and branches of 
 the thickly- entangled trees hid her gay dress 
 from sight, a man's figure rose up from a leafy 
 recess eloeeJy contiguous to the spot on which 
 she and Floret had stood while they were com- 
 1 municg together, and stepped lightlv out into 
 ; the open part of the coppice. He watched the 
 direction which Hagar Lot took, and then pro- 
 ceeded cautiously to the path over which 
 Floret had totlere'd when she broke away from 
 Hagar. 
 
 He followed Floret until he observed that 
 she had unwittingly wandered into a spot no 
 less obscure than that which she had jubt quit- 
 ed, and then quickening his step he gained her 
 side. 
 
 " Floret !'' he breathed softly in her ear. 
 
 She started and slightly screamed. When 
 she saw who it was, she shrank from hioa as / 
 though she were some ehameful creature whose f 
 very touch would contaminate him. 
 
 He gazed upon her sorrowfully. 
 
 " Fairest flower of the forest," he said, ia his \ 
 soft, silvery tone, ' do not shrink from your- 
 self; remember that you are pure and inno- 
 cent, and while that you are so, the guilt of 
 others cannot defile you." 
 
 She wrung her hands, and muttered a few 
 incoherent words. 
 
 " O White Rose, purified even by the fiery 
 ordeal through which you are passkg," he 
 
70 
 
 HAGAR LOT; 
 
 said, elevating his voice, "where are your 
 firmness, your endurance, your self-respect?" 
 
 44 Gone, gone, gone, al all gone!" ehe cried, 
 wildly. " I have none left, none, none ! I am 
 nameless, shameful outcast" 
 
 "Not shameful, Floret," he interposed, 
 quick 'y. " O White Rose, not one saowy leaf 
 of your spotless nature is tainted I no, not a 
 fold, even down to the very depths of your pure 
 heirt, wears upon it a speck or a stain. The 
 impurity of another's fame, though closely 
 connected with you. does not tarnish yours. 
 Besides, some day " 
 
 " I will not live until some day !" she ex- 
 claimed, with a curious, startling sivageness. 
 
 He caught her by the dress, suddenly, and 
 pointed upward, and with a solemn and even 
 dignified gesture, said : 
 
 "There d veils the Judge of what is right 
 that we should do." 
 
 Sbe turned her eyes quickly upon him as he 
 touched her dress, and they followed his hand 
 as it made its gesture to heaven. 
 
 She cowered for a moment, and then flinging 
 herself upon the ground, she gave way once 
 more to a frantic passion of agonizing, bitter 
 tears. 
 
 Liper Leper knelt by her side, and essayed 
 to comfort ter. He Cilled upon her to exert 
 the courage and the powers wbicn he knew her 
 to possess, and he earnestly endeavored to as- 
 sure her that her eky could not be elf ays 
 overcast. He reminded her that ehe had du- 
 ties to perform as well as aspirations to con- 
 ceive, and that those duties taught her to live 
 for others es well as for herself. 
 
 She wrung her hands still. 
 
 " Whom have I now to live for?" she ex- 
 claimed, piteously. 
 
 Two very opposite persons were present in 
 kheir mental visions at that moment. 
 
 Liper turned partly round, and pointing 
 from the spot, said : 
 
 'Tne young lady from the school in York- 
 shire, who ia seated in yonder tent awaiting 
 you, what will become of her if j ou desert 
 
 A flush of crimson passed over Floret's face 
 and neck, she rose up from, the grass, and 
 when upon her feet she was as white as death 
 ifeelf. 
 
 "Conduct me to her, Liper," she paid, in a 
 feeble tone. " You have taught me a lesson. 
 May I profit by it! I <?o not know how to 
 thank you nay, thanks from me are worth - 
 less " 
 
 '* Floret," interrupted Lipcr, speaking with 
 a strange energy, speak not to me c-f thanks 
 now. Never yet h^ve I rendered you a eerv- 
 ice wor h your acknowledgment ; but the day 
 will come when euc!i eervice as I contemplate 
 will be indeed deserving of your thanks but 
 when, too, Floret, your thanks will be a prize 
 worth winning. Speak no more of me now; 
 speak only, think only, of yourself. We shall 
 break vp the tents and separate to-morrow, 
 It would be better for you to leave this place 
 re sundown. I will join you before you have 
 
 reached far, and will conduct you to a railway 
 by means cf which you will be conveyed to 
 London without further fatigue, and whik 
 maHog yeur way timber you can make youi 
 arringe-uents respecting your future proceed- 
 ings ia London, and you may do so without 
 fetr of further interference from the Dar'dy. 
 Yondtr is the tent in which your friend is 
 seated there is the path is will be best for 
 you to take when you leave it, and pursue it 
 until I overtake you. You wi'l see it windi 
 round a narrow efip of the base of the hill, 
 and it will conduct you to the vale along 
 which you will have to journey to the railway 
 sta-ion." 
 
 As he uttered the last words, he glided from 
 the spot. 
 
 Floret gazed after him, and murmured, eara- 
 estly: 
 
 " Would that the rest of the world were 
 bn': hah as kind and faithful as Liper Leper!" 
 
 Within a minute from that time, she was 
 folded in the arms of I a ; but almost instan- 
 taneously she broke from her embrace, only 
 io renew it with more passionate ardor than 
 before. 
 
 For suddenly, aa ehe recoiled from Ida, see 
 remembered that her poor friend, like her, was 
 naonle-s and friendless : had been placed at 
 the horrible school at Ugglebarnby even as 
 she had herself; some one, she knew not 
 whom, had paid for a time for 1 er liviog, but 
 it was only too palpable that she, too, was the 
 offspring of one who dared not acknowledge 
 her. 
 
 Then it was that Floret seemed to feel that 
 she had met witk a sister In miaibrtuBe, whose 
 poverty, trials, and humiliation were not only 
 of a kindred character, but eprarg from, a kin- 
 dred source ; and she pressed her to her heart 
 witti more warmsh and more genuine sincerity 
 than she would have done kad ttie embrace 
 been given under more prosperous circum- 
 stances. 
 
 To Ida nil this embracing and recoiling wag 
 unintelligible. She saw that Floret had been 
 suffering greatly from grievous emotion, and 
 ebe put a hundred rapid questions to her, which 
 Flortt was obliged to repress, bat it the same 
 time to promise to answer at the first conven- 
 ient opportunity. 
 
 Then she gladdened her heart by tolling her 
 that they were both quite safe, and would be 
 permitted to start upon their way to London 
 in a few short hours. 
 
 Even while she was speaking, two young 
 gippy girla made their appearance with a 
 bdeket which contained some very excellent 
 and enticing eatables and some refreshing bev 
 erage. Toey quickly spread tLem before the 
 two young girJs, and requested them to eat 
 and enjoy themselves ; to ask also for any thing 
 which they might require, and if it was to be 
 obtained upon the spot, it would be iuruiahed 
 to them. 
 
 Taey then left Floret and Ida to partake oi 
 their repast by themselves, and as thty had a 
 long journey beiore them, Floret easily per* 
 
OB, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 71 
 
 0uadedl Ida to eat heartily, but sha had no 
 power to touch more than a moreel herself. 
 
 As soon as the sun began to decline, Floret* 
 finding that none of the gipsies approached 
 them, that their small bundles had been placed 
 in their tent, and that they were evident'y 
 free to act for themselves, suggested to Ida 
 that they should quietly take their departure. 
 
 Ida was only too glad to agree to the sug 
 geation. She was very quickly ready to de- 
 part, and having arranged their faded, but yet 
 in its appearance smart attire, they each se- 
 cured a bundle, and made their way down the 
 path which Liper Lsper had pointed cut to 
 Floret. 
 
 It, after half an hour's walk, led them into a 
 public road, and Floret, knowing that the fact 
 of its being public was suggestively in itself a 
 protection, she was plad to eater upon and 
 proceed along it with a quickened pace. 
 
 With a light step and a lighter heart than 
 she had experienced since she started, Ida kept 
 pace with her, employing: her tongue with a 
 volubility which, had Floret had lees care 
 upon her mind, would have amuse-i her. As 
 it was, it helped to divert some of her saddest 
 thoughts. 
 
 As night set in, Floret began to look anx- 
 iously for Liper Leper, and she had not to 
 look in vain, for a sudden scream from Ida, as 
 they reached a spot darkened by overhang- 
 ing trees, showed to her Liper Leper by their 
 aide. * 
 
 He seemed strangely taciturn, but yet gentle 
 and kind in the few words that he did speak. 
 He confined himself almost entirely to direct- 
 ^ng them what to do when they reached Lon- 
 don, advising them where to obtain lodgings,. 
 and bow to set about to search for Mamma At- 
 ten, for her abode it was that Floret hoped to 
 find, and from her the means of acquiring a 
 livelihood, until she should finally determine 
 what her future caurse should be. 
 
 Liper Leper completed bis instructions as 
 they reached the railway station, placed them 
 in a carriage in which they were likely to per- 
 form the journey alone, and bade them an 
 abrupt and haaty farewell. 
 
 As his hand disappeared from the carriage- 
 window, a shrill whistle sounded, and the two 
 poor, friendless girls were borne to London to 
 tempt fortune. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 ** Not death death was co more refuge or rest ; 
 
 Not life-it was despair to be! not bleep, 
 For fiends and ct asms of fire had dispostest 
 
 All natural dreama : to wake was not to weep, 
 But to gaze mad and pallid at the leap 
 
 To which tha Future, like a snaky scourge, 
 Or like some tyraai'a eye which ajedoih keep 
 
 Its withering beam upon hid slavo did ur*e 
 Their steps." SHELLET. 
 
 It was night when the train which conveved 
 Floret and Ida to London reached its destina- 
 tion. 
 
 Following Liper Leper's advice, they pro- 
 ceeded, half-bewildered by the excitement and 
 the noise attendant upon the disgorging of 
 the living freight borne by the train in which 
 
 w"bich they could obtain, cheaply, clean and 
 comfjTtable repose for the ui^bfc, Tuy were 
 fortunate in securing a ekeping apartmtnt for 
 a moderate sum, and though tney fouai it 
 difficult to 'obtain much sleep in tbe strange 
 plduw, abounding as it did in noises, ocisioned 
 throughout the night by persons arriTirg at 
 or departing from London, they passed the 
 night wiih satisfaction, and a greater eeuee of 
 security than they had felt since they had 
 quieted the i4 eligible establishment" of the 
 Blixentioiks. 
 
 They breakfasted in an apartment in which 
 many other persons breakfasted, too, and in 
 which the smell of coffee, and something else, 
 which seemed to be a croes between ' hard- 
 bake" and burnt cake, overpowered all other 
 effluvias. 
 
 They felt confused and embarraaaed, for it 
 appeared as if every one starsd at them with an 
 inquisitive and questioning look, as though it 
 cot corned them mush to know their history, 
 and that they would be glad to be put in pos- 
 session of it. 
 
 One gentleman, indeed, whose locks, mous- 
 tache, and beard were of a flame-color, of 
 very irregular growth, and of undoubted dirti- 
 ness 1 , seemed to much admire thtir presence. 
 He distended his unlashed lids, and never took 
 his whitey-gray eyes cff them while he called 
 lor " 'Arf a pint of corfee, roll and butttr. an' 
 a 'errin". And when he perceived that Ida's 
 brilliint eyes were fastened upon him, with a 
 look in which admiration wa3 not blended with 
 astonishment, he fancied tnat it was the cor- 
 rect thing to close up one eye sharply, and 
 open it again, and then grin, to tbe unfavor- 
 able development of .some j igcjed teeth, set in 
 a friage of green moss, which grew ia wild 
 luxuriance about the upper edges of his gums. 
 
 Ida did not comprehend tLii pantomime, 
 but she was unable to resist smiling uo the 
 dirty and grotesque object before lit r, while 
 Flore^, whose childish memories were not Euch 
 as to lead her to believe than the man's con- 
 duct was a preliminary to anything advantag- 
 eous to them, looked frightened. 
 
 Ida's emile was however, in the eyes of the 
 individual, an encouragement to open a con- 
 versation, and so he nodded and drew up to 
 the table at which they were seated. 
 
 He turned to the landlord, and said : 
 
 " I'll take my corfee, roll and butter, an' 'er- 
 rin 'ere." 
 
 Neither Floret nor Ida had finished their 
 repast, when the man gave his instructions to 
 the landlord, but Ida rose up and said, 
 hastily : 
 
 "Lfctua go away." 
 
 Floret quitted her seat immediately, and was 
 about to depart, but the man pi deed his hand 
 upon he? arm, and exclaimed, quickly : 
 
 *' Not altogether, Miss ; you ain'c a-goin| to 
 hook it in such a 'urry." 
 
 Floret did not answer him, but shook bis 
 hand from her arm. 
 
 lie caught hold of Ida's mantle, and ex- 
 claimed, in a low tone : 
 
HAGAR LOP : 
 
 Gotoe, none o' your natty-particklar vaya ; 
 jee^ tit down, viil you ? You ain't done your 
 fcre^kfis 1 ." 
 
 Id* euatchcd her mantle from him, and, look- 
 ing rar.ber white, said : 
 
 * I do not wact any more." 
 
 "That be blowed," be replied, hurriedly; 
 *'eit down, I tell you. I vant to txlk to you. 
 " 1 11 stand another cup an' a rasher ; there ! 
 eit down." 
 
 lie caught her once more by her cloak, and 
 detained hes. 
 
 Id* 1 )oked at him frowingly and haughtily. 
 She plucked at her mantle to liberate herself, 
 and^id, ftvtz'ngly : 
 
 ' You will be good enough to remove your 
 hand from my mantle. I don't know you ; I 
 don't wish to know you." 
 
 Floret looked for ner landlord, to claim his 
 protection ; bub he was away in eome secret 
 reces*, deeply engaged in producing the bev- 
 erage which tbe dirty individual wi h tne fiaine- 
 hue i locks had ordered. 
 
 " Talker," rt- joined the fellow, " ve ehali be 
 good friends enough, I dessay. You sit down, 
 or } shall jest be obliged to make you, you 
 know.' 7 
 
 A smart groom, who had entered a few min- 
 utes previously, and was tossing- off a cup of 
 ''Oar-mixture-at three- and-fcur", into which 
 he had plunged " half a quartern" of genuine 
 " British brandy, strongly recommended by 
 the F,;culf,y", had fixed his eyes upon Floret's 
 face the moment he had entered, and had kept 
 them there. A conviction paeeed through his 
 mind that her features were very familiar to 
 him, and, simultaneously with it, that the bran- 
 dy bad been made somewhere in the neighbor- 
 hood of Smithfiold. While he was assuring 
 himeelf that both were facts, he overheard tbe 
 individual wish the grubby beard inform Ida 
 that he would make her resume her seat. 
 
 A thought crossed him, and he walked de- 
 liberateJy across tbe room, and touched Ida's 
 aseailant rather smartly en the ehoulder. 
 
 The fellow turned quickly round, end per- 
 ceived, with some surprise, the short natty 
 groom at his elbow. 
 
 The latter pointed quietly to the fellow's 
 hand, which still held Ida, and he said, in a 
 low, but very decided tone : 
 
 ' You'd better drop that neat thing in man- 
 tles." 
 
 ** Why ?'' .asktd the man, sharply. 
 
 " For ee-ve-ral reasons," resumed the groom, 
 readily. "Von of vieh is that you aia'fc no 
 business vith it, an' you ain't vanted to have 
 cny business vith it. Your company isn't 
 vetted, and your habsence is." 
 
 The man displayed his jagged teeth, but 
 this time angrily. 
 
 * Vot do you know about it?" he asked, with 
 an expression which impliad, also, that the 
 groom was meddling. 
 
 "I sees that you are making the young la- 
 dies leave their breakfua' afore they've finished 
 it," be answered. " You may be werry fond, 
 ven in your own kennel, of looking into that 
 
 ere 'ighly.fhrshed, polished, tin-plrfe looking 
 f.lies o' 3 ouro a raul bargain at f..'rii--;:ii'-fi:x~; 
 but it eia't every von as littes to coi> f mplite 
 the picter of an ugly man's b.by. You may 
 do wtrry well for a fen. ale 'rang-'a-latg, but 
 you von't do f jr notbirg puttier, viil he, Mies ?" 
 be added, addressing FJoret, and etarirg ?.t fcer 
 with a look of singularly-searching itquiry. 
 
 Fioret inetinc ively know that this groora, 
 who regarded her with such a deliberate stead- 
 fastness, was interfering from no common mo- 
 tive ; and as he felt that she had nothing to 
 hope for even from him, and all to fear, eho 
 would not reply, but averting her head, moved, 
 as if in search of the landlord. 
 
 At the same moment, the groom moved be- 
 hind the man whom he had addressed, and, by 
 a simple jerk of hia wriat, liberated Ida's man- 
 tle from his hand, and then placed himself be- 
 tween them. 
 
 " You want to get yourself into a row," I 
 think," observed the carroty headed party, ad- 
 dressing the groom, fiercelv. 
 
 " Well, do, werry bad," he retorted ; " an' I 
 shall, too, because if you don't go aid take 
 your chicoree at another table, I shall chuck 
 your cup into the street, and you along vith it 
 1" he added, as the landlord made^his ap- 
 pearance with the <k 'arf a pint" of coffee and 
 the fragrant blcater, " this article viil take his 
 dose at another part of the 'atablishment ; 'jea 
 put it over there." 
 
 In another instant, a very angry altercation 
 ensued, and ib was followed by o " terrific com- 
 bat". The fiery- bearded, unclean customer fer 
 the " errin", being of an irasoible turn, finding 
 the sarcastic remarks cf the groom on hia oer- 
 sonal appearance unendurable, made a sudlfen 
 and violet. t blow at him ; but the groom nim- 
 bly ducked, and avoided it. Not BO the land- 
 lord, who stood immediately behind t "he groom, 
 holding the coffee, the roll, and butter, and the 
 bloated fish of Yarmouth plit opea and grill- 
 ed, upon a tray. He received the hit immedi- 
 ately under the chin, and though the force was 
 slightly spent, it reached him with sufficient 
 velocity to place him and the coffee, the roll 
 and butter, the herring, and the tray, in the 
 adjoining apartment from whence he had a 
 moment before emerged with the whole meai. 
 
 Tne groom, although he avoided the blow 
 delivered ft him, returned it by another, which 
 reached its destination, and precipitated the 
 red- bearded man upon the floor.- This inci- 
 dent was but the work of an instant, but it 
 called -into action a number cf persons, who 
 were partaking of their breskfa&ts a moment 
 previously in peacefukess ; and the end, which 
 was epecdily brought about by the arrival of a 
 policeman, was the departure of the red- 
 bearded man in the custody cf the letter, upon 
 a charge made by the landlord that te had as- 
 eaulted him, and had committed considerable 
 damage, for which he determinedly refused to 
 
 pay- 
 As soon as he was gone, and peace was re* 
 stored, the groom, who had slunk mysteriously 
 out of eight, when the policeman entered the 
 
OR. THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 73 
 
 coffee-room, reappeared, an<3 sidlirg vn to 
 Floret, who, terrified and excited, was waiting 
 to pay tbe email bill she had, with Ida, incur- 
 red at this place, he said, in a whisper, and 
 with a kind of knowing nod : 
 
 "I beg your parding, Miss, but I w:ll be 
 werry 'specif ul to you, Miss. I think I knows 
 ycra/Miss." 
 
 She gazed at him inquiringly, and then re- 
 turned : 
 
 "Impossible. I have never seen YOU be- 
 fore." 
 
 "That's werry likely, Miss," he replied, 
 looking very earaestly ut her features, though 
 not rudely. " I can't say as ever I eeed you 
 afore ; that is jest you, yourself M ; ss ; but I ve 
 seed your likeness. Ah I an' it's the werry 
 image on you." 
 
 "My likeness! you are mistaken," re- 
 sponded Floret, coldly ; " it was never paint- 
 ed." 
 
 She turned away. She did not like to enter 
 into any conversation with any stranger, espe- 
 cially such an irdividual as the one before 
 her; but she was afraid to repulse him too 
 abruptly, for fear another scene might ensue 
 before the could get away from this no longer 
 secure and comfortable aeylum. 
 
 " I ain't mistaken, Miss," said the groom, 
 touching his hat ; for he preserved a manner 
 of considerable deference. " I ain't mistaken, 
 Miss, in wot I says. Yen I says as I have seen 
 your likeness, I ain't talking o' no painted pic- 
 ter, but a raal vork o' nater, eich as no hart 
 could never come near. Your likeness, as I 
 seed it, was in raal life, miss, an' in werry high 
 life too. I've seen a lady as is azackly like 
 you, an0ehe's a marchioness too." 
 
 Floret ftlt as though the whole of the blood 
 in her body congealed slowly in her veins. 
 Like a marchioness I Hagar had spoken only 
 too terribly about her affinity to a marchion- 
 ess. Did she carry about in her features so 
 remarkable a resemblance to the woman of 
 guilt who had endowed her with shame, that 
 even in a humble place like that in which she 
 now stood, she could be recognized as her off- 
 spring ? Bhe felt as if she could slink out of 
 the house alone, like one who, having com- 
 mitted a theft, retires with an abject gait from 
 a place where be sees an ominous finger point- 
 ed at her. Hr cheeks burned, her ears tingled, 
 her eyes were suffused with tears, and" she 
 trembled like an aspen. 
 
 The sharp, quick eye of the man detected 
 her emotion. Ho glanced right and left; he 
 looked furtively at Ida, and then he put his 
 finger to his lips. 
 
 Almost immediately he said, in a tone which 
 he reduced almost to a whisper : 
 
 " I tell you, Miss, I thinks I knows you ; an' 
 if you are the party as I spec's you to be, a 
 werry 'ansome thing is l^ing by for you. It 
 ain't jes' now possibly to say when the ewent 
 may come off, but it is on the cards ; and let 
 whatever will 'appen, you can't 'elp pull n' 
 through, becos I can prove you to be yot no- 
 body el&e dreams on. Lord! Lord! if you 
 
 should really be the party as I've often, since 
 a sprig o' lawender von day vispered avord 
 in my hear, thought as there must be about, 
 you vill come von o' these fice da^s into von o' 
 the werry best things out ; an' wot's more, I 
 can put you into it too. If I does, o' course I 
 Stan's in. I shan't open my mouth werry wide ; 
 but I do want a stunnin' pub werry bad. O 
 Jemima ! but that ain't neither 'ere nor there. 
 I must be off, Mies, 'coes I've got eome 'cres 
 to look 'ater. You jes' let me know vere I can 
 call upon you, or wri^e to you ; ve can vork 
 together, an' ve must bring off von o' the best 
 things vich ever turned up and bring it off 
 to rights too, an' savin' your presence no 
 flies." 
 
 There ^was something abont this man's 
 words, his looks, his manner, that struck 
 Floret very strongly. His mention of the mar- 
 chioness, his assertion that he could prove her 
 to be what no other person than himself sus- 
 pected, and his other inuendoes, gave her an 
 impression that he not only strange as it 
 might seem knew something of her history, 
 but that he was in a position to prove that she 
 was not the creature of shame that Hagar had 
 declared her to be; There seemed to be seme- 
 thing very preposterous in the thought, it is 
 true ; yet, nevertheless, even her you?g expe- 
 rience taught her that the incidents of real life 
 far surpassed in romance and my&tery all the 
 improbabilities that were ever coined ia the 
 realms of fiction. 
 
 While these thoughts were paesipg in her 
 mind, the groom cast his eye upon tne clock, 
 and said, hastily : 
 
 " Be pleased to look sharp, for I ain't got a 
 minnit to spare. Vere shall I be able to find 
 you in a vetk or two?" 
 
 " I do not know," exclaimed Floret, with an 
 air of embarrassment. 
 
 " That's a difficulty, as I ain't no time now 
 to discuss the matter vith you, Miss, -rich ve'll 
 get over in this 'ere vay," said the groom, 
 hurriedly. " 'Ere's my card, Miss Natanel 
 Ferret, 'Orse and Groom, Old Bond street. 
 There" he handed a small card with the 
 above written very legibly, but in a very early 
 style of the art of caligraphy, to her, which 
 she, hardly knowing what to do or what she 
 did, took from him. " There, Miss," he con- 
 tinued, " vhen youvants to see me, or vhe'nev- 
 er you are able to let me know vere I can 'avtf 
 a little private and werry confidential talk 
 vith you, you drop me a line at that address. 
 It ain't vere I am at service ; but it ia vere I 
 know noboddy opens my letters and reads vot's 
 in 'em afore I do. Take care on it, you don't 
 know how wallyable it ia. Jes' eich a tbing as 
 that bit o' card, I shell lay the odds, may go 
 to make a lady o' you, an' a landlord o' me, 
 vith a party vbich has got the ecresminesi 
 dark ringlets But never mind, Miss, tt.k-j care 
 o' the card, an' until you sees me again, an' 
 go an' sing o' mornings an' nights tte lines 
 o' the song Nil despertandem never de- 
 spair." 
 
 As he concluded, he touched his hat with 
 
nAGAR LOT ; 
 
 bia forefinger, smartly and sharply, and took 
 Ilia departure. 
 
 * Wbta eingulir person!" observed Ida, as 
 the w&tebed Nut Ferret, for it was tb.ttt geot'e- 
 man m propria persona, quit the ooffee-roona, 
 imh a Liati'y-^ratitiefl sm'le upon hia GJUU- 
 tenance, flicking bistmart and highly-polished 
 top-bout with u ridiug-wbip. 
 
 Floret carefally hid away Nat's card, and, 
 taming to Ida, said, without replying to her 
 question : 
 
 "Let us leave this place at once " 
 
 'I shall only be too happy," rejoined Ida. 
 
 Floret summoned the landlord. 
 
 He came up with a polite movement of hia 
 head. 
 
 44 1 wish to pay yon for our accommoda- 
 dation," she said, ia a somewhat queenly way 
 which was natural to her. 
 
 "I hope that blackguard who annoyed you 
 hag not frightened you away," responded the 
 landlord, a little earnestly. 
 
 'We must go, if you please," said Ida, a lit- 
 tle anxiously. 
 
 " Oh, certainly, Mies," replied the landlord. 
 " We expects thia ; 'its all come an' go here ; 
 that's how we drives a trade. Tnat rascal, not- 
 witbetandin*, shall have three months, if I 
 know what's what three months to learn bet- 
 ter manners in " 
 
 " What have we to pay ?" inquired Floret, 
 urgently, as several fresh customers entered. 
 Being of the opposite sex, their eyes all in- 
 stantly fell upon her and Ida, and they lin- 
 gered on their faces, too. Afraid that another 
 recognition jet more unpleasant to her than 
 the last might be made, she was nervously de- 
 sirous of leaving the house, and therefore re- 
 peated her request to know what there was to 
 pay. 
 
 t " Let me see," said the landlord ; " one bed, 
 eighteen pen ce ; no suppers; breakfast, two 
 cups of coffee, threepence; and four thin 
 slices, twopence ; no rashers, herrings, no 
 heggs?" 
 
 The two girls shook their heads, and the 
 landlord summed up the amount. 
 
 " Just one and elevespence, if you please, 
 miea. Hope you slept well wool mattress, 
 and every think perfectly clean, and cheap, too, 
 Miss!" 
 
 '* We are quite satisfied," responded Floret, 
 Ln.a low tone, and handed him two shillings in 
 payment of an infinitely more moderate bill 
 for hotel accommodation than it is customary 
 to present to the daughter of an earl, and for 
 very much milder accommodation than an 
 earl's daughter would probably have acknowl- 
 edged herself satisfied with. 
 
 The coffee-house keeper returned the penny 
 change with another bow, and Floret receiving 
 it, took up from her seat her small bundle, Ida 
 secured hers at the same time, and then they 
 Bet forth on their journey after a phantom. 
 
 It VT&B not difficult to tind their way to Pirn- 
 lico ; but Floret had, on reaching it, to trust 
 to her memory to enable her to discover the 
 house ia whioa Susan Atten had dwelt, and 
 
 many weiry pacings both she and Ida tool! 
 in ine ct-igahoroood of E^ury 'ret befor 
 tbey coald di.-c jver the little street ia wbiofc 
 ehe haJl resided with her. Wanderings pa 
 tiently made, and question* persevering! ? p u jj 
 enabled them, at ieogth to enter Little Ctiza- 
 be h street, and pau^e at th door of the house 
 to which Susan had taken Floret on their ar- 
 rival in London, after their flight from Ascot 
 
 There was a row of four braas b*Jl-knobi 
 upon the side of the door, which were small, 
 and kept exceedingly bright. Floret remem- 
 bered them well ; but did not recollect which 
 belonged to Mamma Atten, so she, wub a beat- 
 ing heart, laid her small, white trembling ting-, 
 ers upon the tirst, and rang gently. 
 
 Tne door was, however, promptly answered 
 by a hard-featured woman, whose countenance 
 expressed an impression that she had been 
 called to the door to answer a beseeching ap- 
 peal of charity, with which it was by no meant, 
 her intention of sympathizing or responding! 
 to. When, however, she saw the two young) 
 girls each carrying a bundle, her features ua- 
 derwent a change, and curiosity took the plaoe 
 of pitilessness. Still she did not evidently 
 expect that her visitants had called to inquire 
 atttr any one residing in the house, nnd she, 
 therefore, did not atk whom they wanted, bat 
 what they wanted. 
 
 Floret was about at once to inquire for 
 Mamma Atten, but she felt that there would 
 be something absurd in her inquiring for her 
 under such a name, and she knew not why 
 she felt a reluctance to ask for Mies Atten, and 
 so, after a moment's hesitation, she said : 
 
 " I wish to see Susan Atten, if you please." 
 
 " Who ?'' interrogated the wom-4^ sharply. 
 
 " Susan A uen," responded Floret, in the 
 same hesitating tone she had at tirst adopted. 
 
 The woman shook her head. 
 
 " I don't know her !" she exclaimed, lacon- 
 ically. 
 
 " She lived in this house," suggested Flo- 
 ret. 
 
 "Never heard the name," answered the 
 woman, curtly. 
 
 * For several years," continued Floret, grow- 
 ing anxious, " ehe occupied a room in thig 
 heuse. I am sure of that !" 
 
 " Don't know her," returned the woman. 
 
 4< She was a dressmaker," urged Floret. 
 
 " Not here no dressmeker in this house- 
 all young men," answered the hard-featured 
 woman. 
 
 " Perhaps you are mistaken in the house I* 
 observed Ida to Floret. 
 
 "No," returned Floret, quickly. "I am 
 quite sure that this is the house in which she 
 lived." 
 
 " How long ago ?" asked the woman, in aa 
 abrupt tone. 
 
 " It is quite three years," returned Floret I 
 
 " Ah," replied the woman. " That'll do. I 
 have been here a year and a half, and the 
 house had been empty a year when I tcok it. 
 I tuink I did hear something when I was about 
 it, concerning a young woman who died oi the 
 
OR, THE PATE OP THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 ft 
 
 small-pox, or a broVen heart, or went to 
 Amerio-S T forg*i which ; but I knows noth- 
 ing About her. Anything more to Bay to 
 me ? for I'm getting iuy things ready for tbe 
 mingle, and the man will be herd for them 
 before I'm ready for him, unless I look 
 sharp I" 
 
 Floret felfc sorely disappointed ; she did not 
 know what to eay, or what to do. 
 
 Dili you know any one else living in the 
 bouse ?" suggested Ida. " If you did, perhaps 
 we m'ght find that person out!" 
 
 Floret 1 8 face brightened. 
 
 " Ys," ebe eaid, quickly ; " t'aere was a Mies 
 Marr a Miss Harriet Mirr. She was a gov- 
 erne9s, and taught music. Do you recollect 
 the name ?" she inquired of the woman, earn- 
 estly. 
 
 Lord, no 1" she replied, almost testily. 
 Don't I tell you that the house was empty when 
 I took it ? I know nothing of nobody that was 
 in it before me !" 
 
 ' Do you think any person in the neighbor- 
 hood would kaoar where the persons of whom I 
 speak bate gone ?" inquired Floret. 
 
 "How can I tell?" returned the woman. 
 " You had better ask about at the shops!" 
 
 " 1 expected," said Floret, " to be able to rent 
 an apartment in toe same house with Susan 
 Atten, or, at least, in one situated near to her. 
 I do not know what to do now I" 
 
 "A bedroom furnished, I suppose?" said 
 the woman, quickly. 
 
 " Yes," answered Floret. " Have you one 
 to lt to na for a E fort time?" 
 
 " A short time ? ' iterated the womam, as if 
 the expression were not altogether satisfactory 
 to her ; ard then added : ' Well, I have one to 
 let, certainly ; but what references have you ?'' 
 
 " References?" echoed Floret, with surprise ; 
 " what do you mean?" 
 
 The woman opened her eye. 
 
 " My house is pretty near full of respectable 
 young men," she said, with a slight toss of the 
 head, " and it won't do for me to take in any- 
 body that I knowa nothing about. Who are 
 you? what'a your name? who are your 
 friends? where do you come from? that's 
 what I mean by references." 
 |; What a series of questions for Floret to an- 
 swer ! Her heart died within her. How could 
 she reply to any of them? 
 j The woman observed her turn red, and then 
 pale, and appear embarassed, and said, sharp- 
 
 J J : 
 
 I " Ain't you going to answer my questions ?" 
 : " I must decline to answer them," she re 
 plied, taintly ; and added : " I thought that, if 
 I kept my rent paid, it would matter very little 
 to any one who I was." 
 
 rf " Wouldn't it? ' rejoined the woman, quickly. 
 ,"It would to me, I should think. Besides, 
 what luggidge have you got ?" 
 ) Floret looked at her somewhat aghast, as she 
 put tlie question : 
 
 j *'I suppose them bundles contain all your 
 wardrobes, eh ?" continued the woman, point- 
 ing to the fcmail bundles which they carried. 
 
 Floret bent hf r head ae?entingly ; and then 
 the woman, raising her voice wrattfully. said: 
 
 " Wtiy, I never met with a couple of more 
 artful, barefaced baggages in my life. What 
 <?o you mean by comiug here to me with a 
 cock-and-bull story about a woman tnat'<j dead 
 long ago, in order thatyou may sneak icto my 
 house, get into my debt, perhaps ruin my 
 youn^-men lodgers, and turn the whole place 
 topsy turvey ? I wish a policeman would only 
 ju*t come out of one of them areas in Etiton 
 square; I'd give you in charge to him ; troop 
 off with you while your shoes are as good as 
 they're likely to be. Be cff with you. I 
 won't let you no bedroom, nor more, will 
 anybody else, with them twopenny-halfpenny 
 bun'dles ; so don't try on, or you'll got locked 
 up in prison before the night comes. Be off 
 with y u, and don't you come riDging honest 
 people's bells again, you shameless hussies, 
 don't 
 
 A small crowd, attracted by the woman's 
 vulgar volubility, had begun to assemble, and 
 Floret, with a frightened look, catching Ida's 
 hand tightly in her own, turned away and 
 quitted the doorway. 
 
 She overheard the woman for anrnute con- 
 tinue her vituperation ; and then she heard 
 the street-door closed with a loud bang. It 
 sounded on her heart as if the world had shut 
 its door upon her for ever. 
 
 Whither were they now to direct their 
 steps? Without name, property, or references, 
 what respectable persons would admit them 
 into their houses ? Floret felt the full force, 
 and even the justice of the woman's observa- 
 tion ; but, nevertheless, if the assumption 
 were to be borne out by facts, where were they 
 to look for shelter? 
 
 Ida was silent. The woman's remarks had 
 fallen upon her heart, as if every word was a 
 blow from a bar of iron, and would slay her. 
 
 She felt as strongly and as deeply as Floret, 
 that she was a nameless, homeless outcast, 
 She had not, it is true, eating into her soul that 
 canker which Hagar Lot had set up in Flo- 
 ret's ; but she felt acutely the utter desolation 
 of her position. 
 
 They walked slowly on ; each with a heart 
 far too full of sorrow to speak. Each having 
 a dim, vagne impression that their bed that 
 night would be on the cold, hard stones be- 
 Eeath the deep waters of the river which 
 they had passed in the morning on their way 
 to Pitnlico. 
 
 But all unconscious that they were being 
 followed. 
 
 A stout woman with a swarthy ceirplexion, 
 who was habited in a rich inoire-antique 
 dress, over which was hung, with looee vul- 
 garily, a gaudy Indian shawl, who had upon 
 her head a large bonnet, trimmed with a pro- 
 fusion of flowers, who had long eanir-gs in 
 her ears, huge bracelets on her wrists, long 
 gold chains about her neck, many rings upon 
 her fingers, and was otherwise expensively, 
 but what is xpreeeively termed flashily 
 dressed, was passing, as the woman in Little 
 
HAGAK LOT ; 
 
 Elizabeth street was pouring forth hertorrent 
 of invective upon the two poor girls. 
 
 Sne stopped and overheard part of what 
 was Bald. 8 he scrutinized the faces and forms 
 of Floret and Ida with much critical acumen. 
 She hung back until the woman had finished 
 her torrent of abuse and slammed the coor, 
 then she slowly and cautiously followed two oi 
 the sweetest creatures she had ever seen dup- 
 ing the course of a long and infamous career 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 " Tread roftly through thess airorous rooms ; 
 
 ***** 
 
 Tread softly-softly like the foot 
 
 Of winter, shod with fleecy snow, 
 Who Cometh white and cold and mute, 
 
 Lest he should wake the Spring below. 
 Oh, look ! for here lie Love and Youth, 
 
 Fair Spirits of the heirt and mind ; 
 Alas ! th*t one shoul 1 ever stray from truth ; 
 
 And one be ever, ever, ever blind !" 
 
 BAEJIT CoazrwAit. 
 
 Although the reception of Floret and Ida 
 by the woman who occupied the houae in Lit- 
 tle Elizabeth street, in which Susan Atten had 
 formerly resided, and her subsequent coarse 
 and brutal repulse of them filled both with a 
 black despair, there was still a difference in 
 the emotions which the untoward incident had 
 raised in their young bosoms. 
 
 Ida felt 3 if she had been suddenly hurled 
 from a pleasant world, radiant with sunshine, 
 into an uuknown region of profound darkness. 
 
 This was not exactly the case with Floret. 
 She felt herself reduced to an extremity by the 
 conduct of the woman who owned the house in 
 which she expected to have found an asylum, 
 and that extremity was akin to despair. But 
 ehe had already been plunged into a condition 
 of hopeless despair by H>.gar Lot, which the 
 hint of Nat Ferret had perhaps cgitated in a 
 slightly favorable degree, and which it was not 
 in the power of the individual whose inhospit- 
 able door she had just quitted to deepen. She 
 felt at a loss, indeed, where to go, or what to 
 do. 
 
 Before she could make an effort to rouse her 
 dormant energies to even speculate what would 
 be the best course for them to altempt to pur- 
 Bue, under the unhappy circumstarcea in 
 which they were placed, sne became conscious 
 of a great rustling of silk near to her, of a very 
 strong odor of crape, and funerals, and grave- 
 clothes combined into one scent, and an un- 
 mistakable panting of breath. 
 
 She turned round, and beheld by her side, 
 the stout, gorgeously-arrayed, and repulsive- 
 looking woman mentioned in the last chapter. 
 
 At first, Floret's impression was, that not- 
 withstanding the Biddy's assertion that she 
 was dead, she saw before her the Grannam, 
 disguised in brilliant attire ; but the next mo- 
 men - she was satisfied that she was mistaken, 
 and that the wom;n, who was evidently about 
 to speak to her, was an entire stranger to her. 
 
 As the peraon laid hold of her mantle, Floret 
 looked np in her face, and the woman e railed 
 and winked both eyes with evident approba- 
 tion and admiration. 
 
 " My dear child," ehe said, with the accents 
 of one who, afflicted wich short breath, epoke 
 through a half-choked bugle-horn, "aecuse 
 me I wants to epeik to you a minLit, which 
 it will be for your good, I'm sure ; donV, walk 
 quite so fast. There ain'fc no partiklar 'urry, 
 us the man said when they was taking him to 
 be hanged he, he, ha which a'course it's 
 wrong in a foolish old thing like me to talk in 
 sich a vay to you ; but tb ere, I see you re dull, 
 or else I d give you a relighus trac' to read. I 
 alias carries 'em about viola me. * The sprink- 
 lin' aho nrer for weak blades' ia a werry neat 
 thing in trac'e, an' werry pooty, werry ppoty 
 indeed, and chuckfull ot immoral deflections, 
 But Lor' I can eee that neither o' you young 
 gals are in the mind to read such tilings jest 
 now. Trac's is werry good things when you've 
 got the bile w&rry bad, and don't want nutbin' 
 to distrac' your mind, you can eo through 'em 
 then, from A to amperseand, and think of lots 
 of other things as wtll. 1 t t-t-t-t-t, what Em I 
 talking about ? Lor* bless m*, you will think 
 I've gone out of my mind. You must aecuse 
 me, but I want to have a word or two with you 
 two young, poor, forlorn things." 
 
 Floret felt an instinctive repugnance to the 
 woman, although she saw that the evidently 
 tried to make her tone in addressing them 
 both kind and friendly. She therefore said, 
 coldJy: 
 
 " What can you, Madam, possibly have to 
 say to myself and my friend ?" 
 ^ The woman again glared at her with de- 
 lighted admiration, as Fiortt, keenly sensitive 
 of her forlorn condition, 'Irew herself proudly 
 up. She was stung to fiad that her apparel 
 proclaimed the poverty of her condition. 
 
 "A good deal a good deal!" the strange 
 woman responded, quickly; "werry much 
 more to your advantage than you aspects, I 
 know. You're born to be a Countess, I'll 
 swear; only dress you in satins, jewels, and 
 feathers, and there isn't a court-lady would 
 come near you. But look here, we'll talk 
 about that by an' by. Now, I wish to be a 
 friend to you poor litile thing?, an' I'll tell 
 you why ! I happened to come up to you just 
 as you was asking that beast of a hus^y you 
 was talking to to let you a bed-room, and she 
 refused. Now, I suppose you are strangers in 
 London?" 
 
 " We are," said Floret. 
 
 "And you want lodgings?" continued the 
 woman, looking at the pair with a emue, bui 
 with the eyes of a vulture. 
 
 " TVe do," responded Fbret. 
 
 "Yes jes," rejoined the woman, nodding 
 her head ; " ar.d YOU ain't prowided wiih ref- 
 erences." 
 
 'No," said Floret, dropping her head 
 slightly. 
 
 " Respectable ; but ain't got nobody as you 
 could azackly give at a minit's noiice to 
 speak to jour characters, eh?" artfully sug- 
 gested the woman, trying to make her face re- 
 >emble as little as possible that of a merciless 
 )itd of prey. 
 
on, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 77 
 
 "You have correctly Burmiaed our situa- 
 tioD," answered Flcrtt. 
 
 " Besides, you have your reasons quite in- 
 nocent vons, I am sure for not letting 
 your friends know where you are for a little 
 whi'e." 
 
 I Floret bent her head, but did notrefly. 
 : " Ah ! I see, I see !" said the woman, quick- 
 ly, and with well-affected liberality of senti- 
 ment. " They've been unkind to you, or you 
 have displeased them in some trifling way. 
 They have been harsh to you and have re 
 moved yourselves from 'em for a short time. 
 Yes yes, it's all as plain as a pikestaff. No^v, 
 I tell you what, you've been an' done a werry 
 foolish thing a werry dangerous thing, lo 
 come up here to London alone along of only 
 your two selves. It's a 'orrible place Loadon 
 10, which so is Paris ; but that's seither 'ere 
 uoi there I've a trac' on the wickedness of 
 London I thinks it calb it Gomorror, and 
 pints out 'ew some day it will set on fire with 
 with the stuff they makes lucifer matches 
 on it's brimstone, I believe; but that ain't 
 the name I means. Never mind, but what I 
 wants to say is, that London is a dreadful 
 wicked place, and it isn't one, which I am sure 
 itain't for two young, friendless gals like you 
 to wander about in. Lor' bless you, dears, I've 
 gals of my own, and I knows the duty of a 
 mother as veil as any yoman, 'ere or abroad, 
 and I'll back myself at odds that I'm best at 
 it but what am I say in', a sickenin' and dis- 
 gustin' you with my own praises, which I 
 oughtn't to praise myself for, for I've enough 
 as does it for me ; but what I'm goin' to eay is, 
 I can't bear the thoughts of you two poor lit- 
 tle dears wandering about in search of lodgin's, 
 whioh I don't think you'll get any, for who, 
 but one with a 'art like mine, would let you 
 into their 'ouses. No no, this is a hard, sel- 
 fbh, unfeeling, wicked world, and the best of 
 us is, as one of my trac's says, but a werry 
 rank piece of garbage. "Well, then, I 'appen 
 to have a spare bed- room in my house, which 
 it ain't no great ways from here, and you can 
 have that until you go back to your friends, or 
 you can find a place you may like better than 
 mine, and where it will suit you to live. What 
 do you think of that, eh ?" ' 
 
 " O, how kind of you how very kind of 
 you!" exclaimed Ida, in a perfect ecstasy of 
 delight. She believed the dreadful problem 
 of what they were to do or where to go was 
 thus unexpectedly solved, and solved gratify- 
 ingly, for certainly a woman so beautifully 
 dressed as she was must surely own a nice 
 house. 
 
 Floret, however, hesitated. She recognized 
 the value of the woman's garments ; but her 
 face, her form, her manner, her language, was 
 that of one who had moved in society's lowest 
 grades; and though she could not compre- 
 hend the nature of' any harm which could at- 
 tend them through accepting this person's 
 seemingly very kind invitation, yet some small 
 warning voice within her breast'eeemed to cry 
 out to her : 
 
 " Avoid this creature ; do not trust yourself 
 with her. If you do, you will be lost for- 
 ever." 
 
 The woman obs3rved her hesitation; she 
 perceived, too, that she seemed to be more 
 experienced and more reflective than Ida, and 
 she said, quickly : 
 
 "Don't ma^e any mistake, my dear. If 
 you think lodgin's is easy to be got, and peo- 
 p'e ia eager t J take in young gals like your- 
 self, with no references and small bundles, 
 don't you listen tome. I shan't be the loser 
 if you don't take my offer ; but I tell you, I'm 
 a mother of half-a-dozen gale nice gals, too, 
 most on 'em c Ider than yourself. An' it would 
 break my 'art, if I thought any ene on 'em 
 had to trapes the streets of London in search 
 of what they won't find, and find what they 
 warn't search on. No, Miss, that's my only 
 reason in makin' you the offer of shelcer for a 
 night or two vith a comfortable bedroom, and 
 the company of some nice gals about your 
 own age. Don't come if you don't wish ; but 
 if you'd be adwised by me, you'll except my 
 offer. I should ha' jumped at it had I been a 
 young girl athout friends in London. What 
 do you say, Miss ?" 
 
 The last question was addressed to Ida, who 
 instantly replied 
 
 " Oh ! I think it is so very kind." 
 
 Ay! that was it! It was so very kind. 
 Floret had not previously found that the mem- 
 bers of the world were so kind one to another 
 at least when they were strangers to each 
 other. She remembered many pithy sen- 
 tences of the Daddy, which went to show that 
 when a stranger is particularly anxious to 
 serve you, distrust him. Violent friendships, 
 like love, are never worth much if formed at 
 first eight; and there was somethirg in this 
 woman's> singularly generous offer, which, 
 coupled with a coarseness of manner and vul- 
 garity of speech, made Flora shrink from ac- 
 cepting it.' 
 
 Yet she could not conceal from herself that 
 it would be very dime alt for her to meet with 
 a house where herself and Ida, friendless and 
 unknown, would be accepted as tenants, and 
 she could no j comprehend what harm could 
 befall either of them, if for a few days they 
 accepted the generous hospitality tendered to 
 them by the stranger. 
 
 She sighed deeply two or three times, and 
 was perplexed what to do. It was her custom 
 to act promptly, and to adopt the course 
 which, at the first blush, seemed to be the 
 best. Her impulse was to reject, emphatical- 
 ly, the stranger's offer. 
 
 But^he hesitated. 
 
 The woman knew the value to her of that 
 hesitation, and she said, quickly : 
 
 ' There, there, go your ways, child, and I 
 will go mine. I only made you a offer for 
 your good, net for mine. What am I to get 
 for takin' you in an' 'owsin' you, an ftedin' 
 you, an sleepin' you ? Satisfaction ! Yes, 
 my dear, the satisfaction of a 'art which knows 
 as it haa been and gone and done its duty. 
 
ra 
 
 HAGAE LOT ; 
 
 I'm ft SuKftri'ftD, I em. As one o' them 
 bootlful tr*cX whic*i I'm florry I lft 'eii all 
 at 'o me, e y 8 it's cnl^d, I thick, "Bita of 
 Fat for Fimuhed W.Jvts' I was 'untjry, an 
 youfe i me ; I was naked, an* you olo\b-xl me. 
 I was 'ou^eless, and you touk me ia ' Taii'll 
 be m7 sttief*ction. Vn you leaves mo, you'll 
 liesm*, n' say that to iue, and I shall hive 
 the wirtuous 'appioes* o' kaowia' that I did 
 take you ia an 1 clothe you, an' all tiiat, and 
 i that will be ray reward." 
 
 Ida placed her hand on Floret'0 shoulder, 
 and a till to her : 
 
 "Shill we not go with this kind lady? 
 Wheat we settle, and are able to work, we can 
 soon repay htr for her goodness, you know, 
 dear E nth." 
 
 "Id i yourwisli, Id*, that we should accept 
 this obligation? ' inquired Floret of her, m a 
 low tone, bat impressively. 
 
 ' I ana so dgected, so miserable, in our 
 present incertitude," answered Ida. 
 
 "Hive you no feeling rieioar up in your 
 bosom which urges you to decline the proffer 
 this l*dy BO very kiadly makes to us ? ' fine 
 continued, in the same earnest tone. 
 
 Id* mai'e an uneney kind of movement, as 
 if she was perplexed in her mind, bat jtt 
 ready to take what appeared to her to be the 
 least of two evils. 
 
 I* *e reject it, what are ie to do? 1 ' she in- 
 quire 0, anxiously. 
 
 44 We are in the hands of Heaven!" ex- 
 claimed Floret, in a tone which chilled Ida's 
 heart, it was eo like that of one who had 
 parted with every hope. 
 
 Toe woman overheard every word they lit- 
 tered, though she pretended not to listen to 
 them; but as Floret uttered this ejaculation, 
 she turned to Ler, and Biid 
 
 ' If we wusn't in the Bfcreet, I'd throw my 
 arms round jour dear neck, andkies you, my 
 child. Well, if nothing cornea on ir., I am 
 werry glad I made j ou the offer, and I ain't a 
 bit angry that y~u doesn't jump at it. No, I 
 respect* an adiu/t.1 you both, because you 
 hangs back abo ": comin' home vith me 
 Quite rijjht, my dears quite right, for you 
 knovs nothin' of me any more than I does of 
 you, an', therefore, why should you trust me ? 
 Well, there'a no harm done, is there? an' so, 
 good-bye, icy deara, and I hope that you'll 
 find lod^in'a before the veek's out, I'd al- 
 most said, but before twelve o'clock to-night 
 comes, and the perHceman locks you up for 
 wanderipg about the streets as rogues and 
 wagatones. Cyod-bye !" She turned slowly 
 away, but Ida gently arrested her. 
 
 "ci ay for a moment, if you please, 
 Madam," ehe exclaimed. "I do I do not 
 think that we have yet decided." 
 
 "Ah, but you must be quick, my dear, for 
 I can't wait," said the old woman, with a slight 
 trace of sharpness in her voice. " You must 
 remember, I am trying to do you a kindness, 
 and you can't expect me to wait here all <?av, 
 while you're thinking whether you'll acept~it 
 or not." 
 
 Ida looked beswclnncly at Flo^t, ftis3 Flo- 
 ret a'lDOft imnteriatfc'y oi 1 f.j ihe woman : 
 
 *'Y'U wi.t txcttte oor reluctance ; bus we 
 era tuch e'ni^era to Lotidoa atd i * ways, 
 that we do not kaoir renily what it improper 
 to do; Bii.l, you have made to us an offer 
 which eeeojs to be dictated in a spins of moth- 
 erly femdneee " 
 
 "Of course," interposed the woman; 
 11 motherly kindness, that's all 'uiu'fc nothing 
 else !" 
 
 " Aa offer, which at this moment would b 
 unpeakbly accepted by u?, if we felt quite 
 certain that we eight to avail ourselves of it," 
 continued Floret; " but we are all of us sub- 
 ject to be placed in situations in which it ia 
 necessary to judge for ourselves the path to 
 take, which leads either to good or evil ; and 
 we too often err in the selection. In this case, 
 the choice fee ms simple enough, and we will 
 tlect to make that which will place us beneath 
 your roof until we are able to obtain a small 
 and humble home for ourselves. And at the 
 same time, I do not know how to be sufficient- 
 ly graufai to you for the goodness which has 
 led you to take such notice of us, and to prof- 
 fer to us service which at this moment is par- 
 ticularly valuable to us." 
 
 " Don't say another word, my dears," ex- 
 claimed the old woman, with a emile of ex- 
 treme gratification. " We* are not far from my 
 home, and when we gets there you'll find 
 yourselves as welcome as the flowers in May." 
 
 A cab happened to be paseisg at the mo- 
 ment, and the old woman hailed the driver, 
 who, being disengaged, drew up hia vehicle, 
 which was made to carry four, to the kerb 
 stone. 
 
 I can't walk far," ehe said, as a kind of ex- 
 cuse for engaging the vehicle, " and, besides, I 
 daresay you gals are sick of carrying your 
 bundles." 
 
 They all got in, and the cabman, with a pe- 
 culiar grin, said to the stout woman : 
 
 "To the 'stablishmenfc, I s'pose, mum?" 
 
 " Yes, home ; private door, cabby," she re- 
 turned. 
 
 Toesa observations grated on Floret's ear, 
 and she seemed to feel that she was committing 
 an error ; but a glance at Ida's face reassured 
 her, it looked so pleased and smiling. A 
 thought ran through her mind that it was her 
 own deep-seated unhappinees which gav a 
 gloomy tone to her impressions, and she tried 
 to mke kerttlf believe that the meeting with 
 the singular woman whom they were artcom- 
 panying home was an interposition of Provi- 
 dence in their favor. 
 
 They reached, after a short drive, a street, 
 in which the houses had a particularly new 
 aspect, and were apparently of a very respect- 
 able class. At the eide entrance of one of 
 them, the cab-driver <?rew up, and alighting, 
 rang a email bell which was let ia the door- 
 posts, and over which was painted the word 
 'servants". 
 
 Tne door was opened by a man who waa 
 dressed in a green livery adorned with silver 
 
OR, THE FATE OP THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 79 
 
 lac*, hut *e wis, revcrtheles*, not a etnar*- 
 ItKifcipc; mm II a had ebur', dull red hair, a 
 lovr t'o-eht*-td, friuall eyes, high c'aek-bones 
 j tw-bonta and chin ; wis of a yellow 
 f'l-xioD, and profusely pock-fritttn. He 
 was f qaare built, aod was evidently pos^peed 
 of * reals' rent^th, and looked very much more 
 like a p-iz*"figbtcr than a page. 
 ' He glaiced quickly, furtively, and ecrutiniz- 
 iogU tt ibe girls a.) tbey entered, but made a 
 bo? of reppect, whicb, however, was both 
 slovenly and awkwardly done; and then he 
 Went out and paid the cabman hia fare, whi.e 
 the s out woman conducted Floret and Ida up 
 ft narrow flight of stairs, and passed through a 
 door, whicn admitted them to a spacious 
 
 Both Floret and Ida were s ruck with, sur- 
 prise. Beneaih them deeceoded a wide stair- 
 case, carpeted and drugeeted, to the hl' 
 which was capacious, and contained hall- 
 chairs, table, and handsome mat's. Oa each 
 tide of the door were stained-glass windows, 
 from tee ceiling depended a huge lamp of 
 tailed glass and ormolu, and ranged agaicst 
 the wall were short pillars of variegated mar- 
 bles, upon which were soulptured busts of fe- 
 males. Above them the stairs ascended, car- 
 peted and drugeted in the same handsome 
 fashion, the hand-rails being of polished ma- 
 hogany, and the balustrades of pure white, 
 picked out with gold. 
 
 It was clear that the house was beautifully 
 furnished, and belonged to some ore petsessed 
 of ample means. Floret felt frightened the 
 did not comprehend why and Ida felt awei 
 Instinctively, without knowing wherefore, ehe 
 wisbf d herBblf far away. 
 
 " Now, deara," said the old woman, in a 
 bustling, cheery tone, "1 11 take you into the 
 bedroom of my youngest gal ; she's out, I 
 know ; but you can put yourself to rights a 
 bit thsre, while I order a room to be got ready 
 for you." 
 
 S j eaj ing, she conducted them up another 
 flight of stairs, and opening a room-door, she 
 Ushered tbem in. 
 
 Is was a bedroom, furnished with almost 
 regal magnificence It was carpeted with a 
 rich, yitJaiag Turkey carpet. Tae bedstead 
 a massive rosewood Arabian, superbly 
 carved was decorated with pale blue and 
 whre-flowered satin furriture, lined witn 
 white; the coverlec was of white quilted silk, 
 ed^ed wuh lace ; and the pillows were covered 
 wi h cases of lawn, edged with lace. The 
 toilet-glass and table and the cheval-glass 
 were trimmed 'with white muslia and Jace- 
 ., There were eaey-chaira and couches, covered 
 ' with the same pale blue and white- flowered 
 Batin damask. 
 
 BuS although the room was beautifully and 
 luxuriantly furnished, there was a curious air 
 of loose disorder reigning about it, w^ich de- 
 teriorated its magnificence greatly. Upon the 
 toilet table were China pots, exquisitely paint- 
 ed, cut-glass bottles of all colors, paper boxes, 
 of many kinds, brushes of all sizes, 
 
 band-glae?e8, soiled gloves, jewelry of various 
 kinds, from maesive chsina, brooches, brace- 
 f ta, to a ^lain and apparently valueless ring. 
 Deid end djing flowers were srwed about, 
 mixed up wi h cards of address, ail huddled 
 together in strange confusion. 
 
 About the room, flung upon chairs or 
 coucbec, and upon the floor, were articles of 
 female attire. Some were superb eilfe robes, 
 others were petticoats and various kinds of 
 underclothing ; while in corners were many 
 pairs of femate boots and shoes white, bronze, 
 and black of various makes. Tbero were 
 slippers, too, of fancy materials, thrown heed- 
 lessly about; and, in short, numberless things 
 all lying about in disorder, as if the owner did 
 not prize them, and had cast them from her, 
 n weariness and disgust, the moment she had 
 iremoved them from her person. 
 
 The eld woman noticed the look of surprise 
 wi h which Ida and Floret observed the state 
 of the apartment, and said, hastily : 
 
 '* My Florence is such a careless, reckless 
 crea'ure and she takes no pride in anything ; 
 ufcver minds a bit what they costes, but tosses 
 'em 'ere an' there, jeet as the humor seizes her. 
 \h ! I tells her often enough, light corae, 
 light go she'll live to waot 'em ! You see, 
 dears, she's a beautiful gal, an' a wonderful fa- 
 vorite with the gentlemen. We've werry fast- 
 rate connections, who calls-to eee us c'ukes 
 and lorda, I assure you an' tbey none of 'em 
 comts vithout biingicg Florence aooold brace- 
 let or a dimint brooch, at least. But we can't 
 stay here. The room I intends to put you in 
 can't be more untidy than this ; and it'll be 
 jour own, gals, 'till! can get you a better one 
 ready." 
 
 She rang a bell at the ide of the fireplace 
 eharply, and almost immediately a woman* 
 about thhty years of ege, appeared at the 
 door. She was rather untidily dressed, and 
 looked en 1 low, as tnough late bights were the 
 rule of her life. 
 
 '* la the peach room a little tidy ?" inquired 
 the Ptout woman of her. , 
 
 " Yes'm," she said, quickly ; " we've been 
 eettin' it to rights, and we've jest finished 
 it." 
 
 ' O, I'm glad of that!" she remarked, with a 
 pleased smile. " Go an' get the door open, 
 we want to occupy it, don'c we, dears?" 
 
 Floret and Ida did not reply; they both 
 felt a growing uneasiness, which everything 
 they saw tended to increase. Tue old woman, 
 however, did not wait for their answer, but j. 
 she conducted them to the " peach room". , r! 
 
 ^On entering it, they found that it was fur- 
 nished in a very much humbler style than the , ,. 
 one they had just quitted, but it waa very, 
 clean and in perfect order. It presented a very 
 favorable contrast to the first one. 
 
 ''Now, loves, you can make yourselves at 
 home here for a day or two," observed the 
 ' Samaritan". " We shall do something bet- 
 ter for you by and bje You will call me, 
 while jou stay, mother. What shall I cajl 
 you?" 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 " My natne is I<3a, and my dear, dear friend's 
 came is Edith," said Ida, readily. 
 
 Very pooty names," said the stout lady, 
 musingly ; " but tbey'll do, I <3ara say. 
 Blanche ia more of a favorite than Edith ; bat 
 never iniud, we'll talk about that by.and by. 
 Uow, deire, 1 11 sead you up something to eat, 
 and mind what I say to you. Don't on no ac- 
 count let anybody into your room but me and 
 Bar ih, and don't, on any account whatever, 
 come out of your room without my express 
 permission; keep your door locked inside, dears 
 keep your door locked and bolted. I'll tell 
 you why another time. Mike yourselves at 
 home, dears. I'll come back to you by and 
 by. Good-bye for the present good-bye, 
 loves. I'll eend Sarah up with some cold 
 chicken and a bottle of sherry for you in half 
 A twink good-bje, loves. Be sure you keep 
 your door locked and bolted I" 
 
 And with the last admonition on her lips, 
 she waddled out of the room, closing the door 
 behind her. 
 
 "This is a strange placet" exclaimed 
 Floret, gazing around her, and speaking re- 
 flectively. 
 
 " I am frightened !" said Ida, throwing her 
 arms about her neck. k l wish we had not 
 come into it!" 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " Let us go forth and tread down fate together, 
 We'll be cotnpinions of the ghastly winds ; 
 Laugh loud at hunger ; conquer want ; outcurse 
 The fierceness cf the howling wilderness. 
 Firm here, or bolder coward, that's our way. 
 He who gives back a foot, gives vantage-ground 
 To whatsoever is his enemy." BAERT COENWALL. 
 
 Nature, at the same time tbat she provides 
 Innocence with a sense of impending evil not 
 always, alas ! a protecting instinct sometimes 
 also furrdsbes her with a feeling of repugnance 
 to the object from whom the evil is likely to 
 come. Ida ?*garded the professions of the 
 woman who lesired that she might be called 
 " mother", as those of one who was truly Chris- 
 tian and philanthropic, and in her desolate 
 condition she was most anxious to avail her- 
 self of all they promised, for just so long as it 
 might take to get herself and Floret fairly 
 started in the world. In spite, nevertheless, 
 of her solicitude to follow what appeared sim- 
 ply to be the counsels of prudence and com- 
 mon sense, there was something in the look 
 and manner of the woman who had affected 
 the display of such disinterested generosity, 
 which made her shrink from her with a shud- 
 der, and to regard her with an indefined 
 species of loathing, for which she inwardly re- 
 proved heraelf, and whidh, the more she tried 
 to reason mentally against it, seemed to grow 
 stronger. 
 
 Floret was affected, too, but not exactly in 
 the same fashion. From the moment that half 
 a dozen sentences had fallen from the lips of 
 the woman who had allured them beneath her 
 roof, she mistrusted her. 
 
 Floret, therefore, within a few minutes 
 after the departure o the hostess, decided 
 
 that they ought to follow the prornptirga oil 
 their instincts, and quit their new-found asy- 
 lum at occ3, without farther consideration of 
 the matter. 
 
 In compliance with the "mother's" sugges- 
 tions, Ida had, on her quitting the room, im- 
 pulsively locked and bolted the door. Floret I 
 now unfastened it without noise, so that they 
 might quietly depart from the house, avoid all i 
 discussion with the "mother", and als:> a meet- 
 ing with any of her daughters, if they should 
 happen to be moving about the house. 
 
 To Floret's dismay, she found tbat the door 
 was fastened without; as well as inside, and that 
 tuc lock which was placed on the oureide bad 
 no connection with that she had been instruct- 
 ed to use for tbcir protection. She used all 
 her strength to force the door, but without 
 making at y impression upon it. Ida knb her': 
 assistance, but with no better effect. They 
 were locked in, and escape from the door was, 
 therefore, for the present, at least, impracti- 
 cable. 
 
 They now discovered, for the first time, and 
 greatly to their surprise, that there were no 
 windows to their room. It was lighted by what 
 is termed a lantern ceiling, which, while it fill- 
 ed from above the room with quite as much, 
 if not more, light than the ordinary mode, was 
 yet inaccessible to the reach without a tall lad- 
 der, and it had the advantage of not being 
 overlooked from any other building. 
 
 Ida was disposed to give way to hysterical 
 terror, but Floret's courage rose with the oc- 
 caeion. She was conscious that, with resolute 
 energy and determined will, a tolerable oppo- 
 sition might be set up against any attempt to 
 coerce them into acts which would be repug- 
 nant to their dispositions, and to their knowl- 
 edge of right. She was conscious, too, that 
 their power to act would be impeded and ham- 
 pered by useless tears and by vague fears, 
 none of which wight have the least fouodation 
 in fact. She ;hrefore nerved herself to face 
 the new trial she vras called upon to encoun- 
 ter, and applied herself at once to the task of 
 calming Ida's agitation, and of urging her to 
 exert all the courage she possessed, in order 
 that, the mcment an oppprtuni y of deliver- 
 ing themselves from their present singular 
 thralldom arrived, they might be prepared to 
 seize it. 
 
 While thus engaged *h*v heard a key turn- 
 ed in the lock wither" 1 flowed by a gentle 
 taping at the door. ^ .<i* urned as white as 
 death, and shrunk timidly a few paces back 
 from the spot on which she had been standing. 
 Floret, on the contrary, although she felt her 
 heart beat rapidly, approached the door and 
 listened. The tapping, after a moment's ces- 
 sation, was repeated, and then a voice whisper- 
 ed, through the keyhole : 
 
 " Young ladies, be good enough to let me 
 in." 
 
 The knocking was again repeated, and the 
 same voice Repeated : 
 
 " Don't be afeard, young ladies, it's only me, 
 Sarah ; I've brought something for jou." 
 
OB, TEE FATE OF THE POOH GIRL. 
 
 81 
 
 Floret, then, catching up her email bundle, 
 motioning Ua to join her with hers, which she 
 did wilh alacrity, cautiously opened the dosr. 
 Too cautiously, as it happened, for the eerv 
 Ant, S*rah, gViied in vita a tray, and giving 
 the door a smart kick back with her heel, it 
 closed *i'h a loud click. 
 
 Floret instantly, however, tnrned the handle ; 
 but the door was fast : she could not open it. 
 
 The seivant, with a sidelong glance, ob- 
 served her, and a curious smile of satisfaction 
 pursed up her lips. Bhacid not say any thin?, 
 however, until she had placed the tray, which 
 contained a very attractive-looking email re- 
 past., upon the table, and then she turned and 
 survived ihem both. 
 
 " Well, la I I declare," she exclaimed, with 
 affected wonder, "why, yen haven t never taken 
 off jour bonnets and cloaks, and put them 
 nasty troublesome little bundles out of your 
 hands since you have been here. How angry 
 missus would be if she were to know ir." 
 
 ""We are much obliged to your mistress for 
 her kind intentions toward us," observed 
 Floret, with a serious and decided tone ; ' but, 
 after Eome very careful and anxious consider- 
 ation, we have decided not to trouble her 
 further, and to take our departure from this 
 ho so." 
 
 The woman gazed at her, and raised her 
 hands with well simulated amazement. 
 
 "Well, I never!" fihe exclaimed. "What, 
 do you mean to say you want to go away be- 
 fore you have had a chance cf knowing what a 
 charming place you are in?" 
 
 " Yes," said Ida, urgently ; " please to let us 
 go. We have no desire to stay here a moment 
 longer even if it were twenty tknes more 
 chartring than you intimate that it is." 
 
 " Why do you wish to go, young ladies?' 
 Inquired the woman, artfully. " Has anything 
 happened to disturb you since you have come 
 here? If BO, herhaps I can explain it. You 
 came here of your own free wills didn't 
 you?" 
 
 " I cannot see," responded Floret, coldly 
 "that it is necessary to furnish you with any 
 explanation of the cause which makes us wish 
 to depart. It must be surely enough for you 
 at least, that we wish to leave." 
 
 11 No, young lacy, it is not I" returned the 
 aervant, emphatically. "Missus has behaved 
 very kind to both of you, and you knew it 
 but sbe hasn't yet had the chance of being 
 half nor a quarter BO kind as she intends to be 
 and, therefore, if I was to let you go away 
 without giving her any rhyme or reason for it 
 what do you think she'd say to me ? She ain" 
 used to have her Mildness flung in her face in 
 ithis way, and I ain'fc going to be no party to it 
 4 so you'd both of you better take off your bon 
 nets and cloaks, and eit down to that beautifu 
 cold chicken and sbwry, which I have brough 
 you by miesueses orders, for I certainly shan' 
 let you go away without she bids me to it !" 
 
 " Where is your mistress?" inquired Floret 
 in a commanding tone, which did not fceem t 
 &OTO any effect upon me woman. 
 
 Gone out," ehe said, pertly. 
 
 We are to be prisoners here, I am to nnder- 
 tand?" said Flcret, sternly. 
 The woman shrugged her shoulders. 
 " Prisoners is strong words ; but you cer- 
 ainl/ won't be allowed to go away until she 
 omes back," she replied ; and when that will 
 )e, ia quite uncertain. She might return in an 
 our ; she might not come back for a week, if 
 ny thing unexpected tcok her off in the cotm-; 
 ry BO J u youcg ladies had better make up 
 our minds to be contented and happy. You 
 will be well taken care of here ; you may rest 
 ure of that. Take off your things do, there's 
 dear, good ladies, and eat your lunch ; it will 
 do you good, and it can't do you no harm. 
 You may, when you think of it, just as well 
 ake it, because nothing whatever can be dona 
 until missus ccmes back." 
 
 Floret turned away from her without reply. 
 She was perplexed. She knew not what etep 
 to take. The woman folio wed" her, and, in a 
 coaxing tone, said : j 
 
 ' Do take my advice, make yourselves com- 
 fortable, and when missus comes home, no 
 doubt, if you wants to go, ehe'll let you go." : 
 
 'Do you refuse to permit us to leave this 
 place?" inquired Floret, turning sharply to 
 her, and speaking with excitement. 
 
 " I've nothing to do with it. I'm but a poor, 
 servant, and must do what I am told by those, 
 who employ me." 
 
 She suddenly darted to the door, and, with' 
 dexterity, used a small key, opened the spring- j 
 lock, glided through the partly-opened door, 
 fastened it after her, and descended swiftly to, 
 the lower part of the house. 
 
 What was now to be done ; they were locked 
 in as before, and their chance of departure. 
 more remote than ever. 
 
 Again and again they discussed their posi- 
 tion. Why were they locked in ? If the mia-i 
 tress of the house had no other than kind in- 
 tentions toward them, why not giv them the: 
 liberty of moving freely about the house, or att 
 least theyipportunity of movirg freely abow 
 the housefjpr at least the opportunity of enter- 
 ing even one of the sitting-rooms. Why con-| 
 fine them at the top of the house? Why bid] 
 them lock and bolt their chamber-door, and 
 refuse admittance to all persons except hereelf 
 and her servant? What persons? Of whom 
 were they to be afraid and why would they ; 
 have occasion to fear them ? 
 
 It may be easily understood how difficult 
 both Floret and Ida found it to furnish an an- 
 swer to even one of these questions, and how 
 wretched and bewildered their fruiiless endeav- 
 ors left them. 
 
 Forlorn, helpless, and friendless, nothing ': 
 was left to them but to wait the issue of events. ! i 
 Neither of them touched the food which had | 
 been brou-ght to them. They seemed by tacit ' 
 consent to shun it they sat close to each ' 
 other, hand in hand, conferring in a tow tone,' 
 and wearying their already aching brains by 
 profitless speculations. 
 
 The day wore on long aacl drearily, And the 
 
82 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 gradual diminution of light from above told 
 them that the sun was rapidly sinking in the 
 west, and wou'd, no donbt, go down and leave 
 them in darkness, and still in their priaon- 
 chamber. They were faint from long fasting ; 
 but they did cot even look at the food tempt- 
 ing as it really appeared they only wept in 
 each other's arms, when the prospect of escape 
 became hopeless, and prayed earnestly for the 
 interposition of Heaven to effect that deliver- 
 ance which seemed denied to them by human 
 Agency. 
 
 And while thus tearfully engaged, the fra- 
 grant odor fragrant to the olfactory sense of 
 the famished of a rich dinner being cooked, 
 1 gradually permeated through the o.re vices of 
 the door ond the keyhole, and filled the apart- 
 ment. They guessed that the dining-hour 
 , was approaching, and they imagined that the 
 woman who had inveigled them into her 
 clutches would probably return to her home, 
 visit their chamber, and finding them resolute- 
 ly bent on not remaining beneath her roof, 
 would ihrow open their prison- doors, and suf- 
 fer them to depart. 
 
 But no, some time elapsed, and no foot- 
 steps approached their room, although they 
 listened with intense and breathless attention. 
 
 But, though disappointed in their yearning 
 wishes, though no sound reached their earf, 
 they almost imperceptibly discovered that the 
 pleasant odor of viands being cooked was 
 changing into a smoky scent. Shortly after- 
 ward, they noticed a dull, suffocating vapor 
 gradually filling the apartment, impeding 
 thir breathing, and obscuring their vision. 
 
 And in the direction of the chimney-piece, 
 they heard a dull, booming, roaring sound, as 
 though a michty wind waa tearing up the ad- 
 joining chimney. 
 
 And then a strange red glare seemed to 
 spread itself over their room from the lantern- 
 window above ; and, looking up, they, to their 
 horror, beheld large volumes of smoke rolling 
 and wreathing in dense masses around their 
 window-panes, in which were perceptible large 
 flakes of incandescent matter. 
 
 Then, within the house there suddenly rose 
 tip a succession of piercing shrieks, the hurry- 
 ing of feet, and the slamming violently of 
 doors. 
 
 And without the house, and in the streets, 
 there was a hoarse roar of voices, some shrill 
 cries, and the rolling of some heavy vehicles. 
 
 A frightful conviction flashed through the 
 minds of both. 
 
 The t ouse was on fire ! 
 
 Simultaneously they rushed at the door, and 
 pulled at the handle. It was still locked on 
 the outside. With all their strength they 
 shook it, tugged at it, dashed their feet against 
 the panel, but without making the slightest 
 impression upon it. 
 
 They screamed for help screamed with the 
 energy of a mad despair. They had a few 
 minutes previously tacitly wished for death to 
 relieve them from their afflictions and here 
 it was advancing in its most terrible form, act- 
 
 ually staring them in the faoe, and they tried, 
 with frantic endeavors, to escape from its hor- 
 rible embrace. 
 
 But they both became exhausted, powerkrs, 
 almost senseless ; and the door remained slill 
 firm against any and every effort to force it. 
 
 The roaring sound in the chimney increased 
 frightfully ; the wild confusion within the 
 house itself, mingled as it was with yells and 
 screams, grew demoniac ; the tumult without 
 the house each moment became greater 
 sounds, as of some violent battering, were 
 added to the disorder, end, within their cham- 
 ber, the vapor grew slowly but surely denser^ 
 and more impossible of being breathed ; but 
 no footsteps approached their chamber to 
 save them, no friepdly hand unlocked the door 
 to afford them th opportunity of flying for 
 their lives. 
 
 Ida became rapidly almost delirious. Flo- 
 ret, at the first moment that a conviction that 
 the flou?c was on fire took possession of her, 
 felt half frenzied, but as the impossibility of 
 escape, and the certainty of death swiftly 
 forced themselves upon her mind, she did not 
 hesitate, but twined her arms about Ida, forced 
 her upon her knees, and bade her join with 
 her in earnest prayer to Him in whose dread 
 
 Eresence they would probably shortly stand,, 
 nploring Him to receive their souls merci- 
 fully. 
 
 It was hard to die so young hard to die a 
 death BO frightful J)ut there appeared to be 
 no help for It, and Ida, awakened to a sense 
 that her last moments wre at hand, mingled 
 her prayers with Floret's, and tried to meet 
 the apparently inevitable result with calmness, 
 resignation, and a firm hope that, with thie 
 last fiery ordeal, their trials and their sorrows 
 would end for ever and ever. 
 
 Their power to breathe was fast departing, 
 their eyesight was leaving them, in their ears 
 only w&s one wild, rushing, ringing sound ; 
 they were sinking gradually into that sleep 
 from which they would never awaken on 
 earth, when they were both startled by a tre- 
 mendous crash upon the door, close to which 
 they were kneeling. 
 
 It was followed by a hoarse yoiee without, 
 exclaiming, in loud tones : 
 
 " Is there any one in this room ?" 
 
 Both Floret and Ida tried to scream, but 
 their mngs were full of smoke, and they could 
 make no sound. They each, with the desperate 
 endeavors which a renewed hope of life Would 
 make them employ, repeated their attempts, 
 but vainly. 
 
 They heard the question which had partly 
 resuscitated them repeated urgently, accompa- 
 nied by seme heavy blows on the door; acd 
 then Floret, half-maddened by the prospect of 
 losing this chance of deliverance, made one 
 almoet superhuman effort, and forced a faint 
 shriek, feeble in its sound, from her throat. 
 
 But it was heard ! An attempt was made 
 to daeh the door open, but it would not yield; 
 and then the same voice as before, rendered 
 deep and sonorous by the imminence of the 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 83 
 
 danger ia whifeh tbey were placed, cried : 
 " S-and bick ! stand clear !" 
 
 Then fell the ewift, heavy blowa of an axe 
 upon tbe door a hailstorm of blows the 
 wood shivered, split into fragments at the spot 
 where the locks had been at'acned, and alter 
 this hurricane, occupying a briefer time than 
 it fcfts taken to relate, ceased, a heavy body 
 was flung violently against the door: it bent, 
 cracked, held its own tenaciously, and then, 
 on the repetition of the daeh against it, it fell 
 in with a crash, a complete wreck. 
 
 In the doorway, in a black helmet and dark 
 dress, stood a grim-looking man, but stood 
 only for a moment. 
 
 At his feet he eaw the half-senseless girls, 
 without the strength to move a limb. He 
 waited to put no questions to them, for the 
 flames were ascending the ttaircaee with a 
 blinding glare, and showers of fiery sparks 
 were darting up, coruscating, glittering, danc- 
 ing, and wreathing, as though they were re- 
 joicing over their work of destruction. 
 
 The powerful fellow lifted both girls from 
 the floor, one in each arm, and bore them 
 from the room into one adjoining, for all esoape 
 by the staircase was cut off. 
 
 Here was an open window looking into the 
 street, and against the edge of the window still 
 rested a fire-escape that most valuable of all 
 valuable inventions. The brave fellow who 
 had taken charge of the fainting girls proceed- 
 ed with his work of deliverance calmly and 
 skilfully, though without the low of one in- 
 stant's precious time. 
 
 He lowered Ida carefully to the arms of 
 those who were waiting below, with generous 
 philanthropy and intense impatience, to re- 
 ceive those who were to be saved, and he de- 
 scended with Floret. 
 
 As be reached the ground, there was a sten- 
 torian cheer from a swaying, thronging multi- 
 tude. 
 
 It was followed by a wild ehout, a dull, 
 heavy crash, the toeing into the air of myri- 
 ads of fiery spark?, and the leaping and flash- 
 ing of a thousand flames. 
 I The roof had fallen in ! 
 
 The gallant conductor of the fire-escape had 
 not completed his work of mercy a moment too 
 soon. 
 
 Bewildered, blinded, trembling, scarcely eon- 
 scious, Floret and Ida were conveyed to a 
 neighboring tavern, where every attention was 
 kindly paid to them, and restoratives were 
 given by a medical gentleman, who had been 
 called is. to attend them, and who soon report- 
 edthat, though much frightened and half suf- 
 focated, they were in no danger that they 
 only required a few days' rest, careful attend- 
 ance, and nice, nourishing diet to restore them 
 to health again. 
 
 Floret covered hr face with her hands and 
 wept bitter'y as she heard those word*. 
 
 A few days' rest,! Whre were they to 
 obtain them? Nourishing diet! How were 
 they to get it? Their bundles containing the 
 whole of the money they possessed, and all 
 
 their worldlv goodc, wer* conanmcd by the 
 fire. 
 
 They were not only still homeless, but they 
 were now utterly penniless. 
 
 The medical practitioner observed her tears, 
 and spoke soothingly to her. 
 
 Presently, as if a thought struck him, lid 
 said to her, in a Lied voice : 
 
 Dry your tears, exert youmlf to recover 
 your composure, and answer me a few ques- 
 tions." 
 
 Floret tried to follow his counsel, but with 
 very moderate euocesf. 
 
 " Tell me," he said, looking earnestly into 
 her face, did you know anything of the wom- 
 an whom I saw accost you to-day, and whom 
 you accompanied to the house from which you 
 have just been rescued ?" 
 
 "Nothing," answered Floret, instantly. " My- 
 self and the young lady who is here with me 
 are strangers in London. We were anxious to 
 find a youog woman who was very kind to me 
 in childhood, and whose counsel and protec- 
 tion I deeply reed now ; but she had quitted 
 her old abode, and tbe woman who keeps the 
 house refused to furnish us with an apartment 
 in it, because we were unprovided with refer- 
 ences. The person to whom you refer accost- 
 ed us, and ofiVed us an asylum until we could 
 procure a lodging. But when wo were in her 
 house we were placed in an apartment, and 
 locked in it. "We were there imprisoned while 
 the house was burning, and we should have 
 perished there if the brave fireman had not 
 broken the door in, and rescued us at the mo- 
 ment he did." 
 
 " Whom did yon see while in the bouse ? n 
 inquired the medical man. 
 
 " Only a female servant, who brought na 
 some refreshments, of which we did not par- 
 take," returned Floret, quickly. 
 
 She gobbed piteouely as ehe concluded, 
 and the doctor was evidently moved by her , 
 distress. 
 
 He turned to the landlord of the tavern, in 
 whose best private room they were all assem- 
 bled, and said to him : 
 
 " Something must be done, and promptly, 
 for theee unfortunate young ladies." 
 
 The landlord a short and rather young man. 
 who had for seme time been engaged in cwri- 
 ouely examining the features of Floret, prompt- 
 ly replied : 
 
 " I think so !" , 
 
 Then he addressed himself to Floret, and 
 said: 
 
 " Do you remember me?" 
 
 She raised her eyes to his face, and answered 
 in the negative. 
 
 " I think so," she rejoined, emphatically. 
 "Aecot, eh? I think so!'' he added, as he 
 saw a change pass over her features at the men- 
 tion of that place. " Beachborough, eh ?" he 
 continued, rapidly ; Ascot Heath a shy with 
 gipsies a race in a shay- cart to London in a 
 train Susan Atten, eh ? The Poor Girl, eh ? 
 I think eol" 
 
 Floret rose to her feet, and sat down ; ehe 
 
EAGAntOt; 
 
 turned crimson, find then white ftg&in ; nhe 
 trembled excessively, and, in an agitated voice, 
 said : 
 
 " Did you see me at Aecot ?" 
 . " I thitk so," he returned. 
 
 "And was it you who helped to rescue me 
 from from the gipsy ?" she exclaimed, quick- 
 
 ] 7- 
 
 The landlord rubbed his hands, and, with a 
 twinkle of his eyes, replied : 
 
 "I thiukso!" 
 
 She disced her hands together. 
 
 "Tben," she said, earnestly, "you know 
 Susan Atten ?" 
 
 "I think so!" returned the landlord, with a 
 clrackle. 
 
 " And you will tell me where she is, and will 
 help rr o to find eome home, however humb)c 
 it may b^, ia which I and my companion can 
 work, toil, I care not how hard, to obtain a 
 livelihood for us both," she cried, with nervous, 
 eager solicitude. 
 
 And the landlord, putting his head elightly 
 on one tide, and folding his arms with an ex- 
 pression upon his face which eeemed to chal- 
 lenge contradiction from any one in the world, 
 giant though he might be, said emphatically, 
 between 1 is closed teeth : 
 
 "I think BO!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " We toil through pain and wrong ; 
 
 Wefigbt and fly ; 
 We lore ; we lose ; and then, ere long, 
 
 Stone-dead we lie. 
 Life! is all thy son* 
 Endure and-die?'" 
 
 BARRT CORNWALL. 
 
 Fortunately for Floret and Ida, the landlord 
 ofthe tavern to which they had been conduct- 
 ed afrer being rescued from the burning house 
 into which they bad been inveigled, was that 
 identical eoukjn Bob who had so much, distin- 
 guished Limself in assisting to convey her from I 
 Aecot He-itl and from the clutches of Daddy 
 "Wmdj Harry Vere'e cousin Bob, who had de- 
 rived" iufiniteJy more gratification from that 
 event, and its attendant racideits, than he 
 would have done from seeing a dozen "Em- 
 peror's Piates" contested for. 
 
 He had parted with his public- house at 
 Windsor to his brother Joe, who had resigned 
 his trade as a butcher, in order that he might 
 become the proprietor of the present hous > ia 
 Pimlico, which promised to be a very profita- 
 ble speculation. 
 
 Tne doctor having seen Floret and Ida re- 
 stored to something like composure, and being 
 assured that they would be able, with quiet 
 and a little attention, to recover from tceir 
 fright, and regain their spirits and strength, 
 prepared to take bis leave. 
 
 He was delighted to find that his favorable 
 impression of both girls was confirmed to a 
 certaia extert by the landlord ; and he had no 
 doubt that, innocent and pure, they had been 
 Inveigled by the old wre ch, whose house had 
 ,seeniiDgly beea so providentially destroyed, 
 for the worst of purposes. He impressed, wi h 
 
 unnecessary warmth, tipofl " Cousin Bob 1 ' the 
 necesfcity of treating the young lidies with 
 kind and c'elicate consideration, and promised 
 to visit them again in the morning, when, if 
 they chose to communicate to him their actual 
 condition, he promised that he would interest 
 himself among bis rich patients in their fivor. 
 
 Floret, with a burning cheek, thanked him 
 for the services he had already rendered to 
 her, and for his benevolent designs, of which, 
 although she said nothing noir she had nei- 
 ther spirit nor heart to converse she did not 
 intend to avail herself. Ste shrank from every 
 help which took the form of charity. She was 
 prepared to work, but not to be dependent 
 on the bounty of any being living. 
 
 Cousin Bob had a sister who was living with 
 him as his housekeeper. 
 
 She hud been out that afternoon to visit a 
 friend, and returned home jast as the doctor 
 TVas taking bis leave. 
 
 A few words placed her in possession of the 
 exciting circumstances which bad occurred, 
 and being of as kindly a disposition as her 
 brother Bob, she very quickly butied herself 
 in making Floret and laa as comfortable and 
 as much at their ease as ehe could, and gave 
 up to them her own bed-room, without deign- 
 ing to listen to a word in opposition to her pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Floret and Ida elept soundly that night, for 
 t&ey slept with an unqualified sense of perfect 
 eeeurity. The next morning, Floret contrived 
 to have an interview wi .h Bob, and alone. 
 
 She feund him profoundly engaged in med- 
 itating how to bring the very interview which 
 she had thus contrived about, when she ap- 
 peared before him, and saved him ail further 
 trouble. 
 
 "I am anxioui," she said earnestly, "to 
 have a few minutes' conversation with you 
 alone. Will jcu oblige me by hearing what 
 I have to say, where we shall not be inter- 
 rupted ?" 
 
 'Well, I think so!" responded Bob. "I 
 wasjnst going to propose the same thing to 
 jou. No one will interrupt us here. Fire 
 away!" 
 
 " fijusan Atten I used to call her Mamma 
 Atten where is she?' inquired Floret, ea- 
 gerly. 
 
 " Gone to Canada," replied Bob, passing 
 his right hand over his chin, and gazing ear- 
 nestly in Floret's face. 
 
 For a mcmont he remained silent, and then, 
 with a rapid and rather peculiar emphasis, 
 said : 
 
 "You see, Miss yon won't be offended 
 with me, for God knows I don't mean any 
 offence to you, of all His living creatures but 
 you see, Miee, I want to remind you that ever 
 since you have been a baby yu have caused 
 a commotion. You set all Beachborough Jy- 
 ing when you first made your appearance 
 there ; you was the unhappy cause of as swe.t 
 a girl in the world innocent enough of it, the 
 Lord knows being hurried out of k with 
 something wovee than ft broken heart, and oi 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 as fine a hearted fellow as was ever born leav- 
 ing his country and his family, a broken-spir- 
 ited, blighted man. For love and tenderness 
 for you, poor Susan Atten haa had her life cut 
 up her lover left her for Canada on your ac- 
 count only ; and she at last when j ou were 
 a second time stolen from her, after fretting 
 herself to a skeleton about you and Harry 
 Vere, finding that it was a hoptles task to en- 
 deavor to trace you out followed Harry out 
 to Canada, in order that she might cot break 
 his heart as well as her own, by dying of grief 
 at the loss of somebody else besides him. I 
 saw her before she went away nay, I'll tell 
 you the truth, Mias it was tnroughmy ad- 
 vice she went out after Harry. I pointed out 
 to her, that if she remained in England she 
 would loEe both ; but if she went out and se- 
 cured Harry, she might come back and fiad 
 you." 
 
 Bob paused to wipe the perspiration from 
 off his forehead. It stood iu thick beacis 
 there. He had not removed his ejes from 
 Floret's face and he saw from ics white 
 rigidity that his words were congealing her 
 blood. 
 
 * I know that I'm paining you, Mica," he 
 said, speaking a little huskily, for he evidently 
 was hiaisfclf affected by the character of there- 
 marks he was making ; " but I am paining my- 
 self, too ; and I have a duty to perform, which. 
 I shall perform, as I always have done through 
 my life, when there WAS a duty to do. It is 
 only right that you should know what others 
 have done ad suffered for you, and what a 
 strange fatality seems to cling to you wherever 
 you go and whatever you do. I have eeenycu 
 but twice. I had a ride for my ILe the first 
 time ; the second you are brought to me, hav- 
 ing narrowly escaped losing yours. Having 
 eaid so much, I have done with that part of 
 the subject. It seems harsh and brutal to 
 speak to you as I have done at least, if it 
 does not to you, it does to me ; but I have 
 thought it right to say what I have, in order 
 that you might not fancy that poor Susey At- 
 ten ran away from England, and from you, 
 without eauee. No ! She's gone to be united 
 to the man she loves, and who loves her as a 
 true man should love a woman. Before she 
 went she begged me to use my endeavors to 
 find you out if I could ; and so I have used 
 them, for this past year ; and if there had been 
 another fe w days to run, I should have laid 
 my finger upon you. I found out your school 
 at Uggiebarmby, too late to catch you. I 
 traced you to the gipsies' camp after you were 
 gone' but here you are, as you say, friendless, 
 homeless, and penniless. Now, Miss, under- 
 stand frviia me that you are not friendless, be 
 caue I have promised Susey Atten that if I 
 once came up wiJti you, I'd never desert you 
 and, begging your'pardon, ALss, damme if I 
 do ahtml But, putting me out of the ques- 
 tion, there is a great lady I know el who will 
 be your fiiend, who is almost out of her mind 
 because she has lost you I mean the lacy 
 whose house you were in. when you were iil, 
 
 and who sent you into tbe country, from 
 whence the old gipsy stole ycu away again. 
 She is anxious to receive you again, and sup- 
 port you, if jou like to go and live as she 
 wishes you to do. You are not and you shall 
 not be homeless, even if you reject her 
 cffcr; for it will be my care to provide one 
 for you, and you will not be penniless ; for 
 Susey Atten leit in. my charge a sum of money 
 for you, with the information where to apply 
 for more when that is gone. Tnere, Miss, I 
 have done now. I have said all I had to say. 
 I think so. It has not been a pleasant job; 
 but it is over. There is only one thing more 
 and that ia, that if I can serve you I shall ; 
 and that without having anything to say about 
 it at least, I thick not." 
 
 Floret heard -him to the end without inter- 
 poairg a single word. Not a sound escaped 
 her lips not a sigh, although her bosom 
 heaved and fell with inward suffering. 
 
 Once or twice ehe essayed to speak ; but 
 articulation seemed to be denied her. She 
 pressed the tips of her fingers upon her eye- 
 lids not to drive back tears which might 
 have congregated there, but because her eye- 
 balls ached with an agony which was almost 
 insupportabh. Her brain, in fact, was ter- 
 ribly over- taxed. 
 
 By a strong effort, however, she spoke. 
 Her voice was hard and hollow ; it had none 
 of its old melody in it its tone made Bob 
 start, and a flush of hea^ to pass over him. 
 
 " There is one figure in the category you 
 have just repeated," she said, slowly, " which 
 you have omitted, and for which even you can- 
 not find an antidote." 
 
 " What is that ?" he asked, quickly. 
 
 "I *as friendless, homeless, penniless," 
 she replied, in the same tone, and speaking 
 with forced exertion ; " for each of those bit- 
 ter conditions you Lave furnished me with a 
 remedy ; " but there is yet one grave and im- 
 portant situation which you have not foreseen 
 or imagined how should you ? It is impera- 
 tive that you perhaps one other, and only- 
 one other Susan Atten should know it itia 
 that I am hopeless I" 
 
 She paused for a moment, and Bob started. 
 He would have spoken, but ehe checked him. 
 ^ " Hear me out," she said, her voice tremb- 
 ling, although she strove to keep it firm. " I 
 have not much more to say ; but little as it is, 
 I pray you to pay heed to it. I ask of you to 
 reflect and comprehend how much is com- 
 prised in that one word which I have just ut- f 
 tered. I ask for no friendship, for I have none - 
 to give back in return. I cannot, will not see 
 that lady of whom you have spoken, again, nor 
 will I accept her pecuniary assistance, nor that 
 of any other person. It ia my earnest wish \ 
 never to see again any person and this with- 
 out exception whom 1 have ever seen in my 
 past, miserable life. I need, in the future, 
 oaly an apartment in an obscure place, with 
 the means of earning enough to pay for what 
 I eat, for what I wear, and for the place in 
 whioh I m.y breathe, and lay my head at 
 
HAGARLOT; 
 
 night. This is all I requireall I will accept 
 any attempt, proceeding from any source, to 
 compel me to alter the decision at which I 
 have arrived, will be followed <by an effectual 
 check to the necessity Jor any second inter- 
 vention in my behalf. I know that I bear a 
 fated life ; I wish to bear it with patience and 
 fortitude ; but in obscurity. I entreat you to 
 understand that. Had I been the child of 
 parents whom I had known and loved, how- 
 ever humble they might have been, it would 
 have been my ambition to have soared to 
 have grasped at the highest gifts the world has 
 to bestow ; aa it is, I I would to heaven 
 that I were dead buried forgotten!" 
 
 " Miaa Floret !" ejaculated Bob, deprecat- 
 ingly. 
 
 " All my aspirations, yearnings, hopes, are 
 embodied iii those la&t few expressire words," 
 she continued, passionately, and yet with a 
 plaintively despairing tone, which made Bob 
 move about with a very uneasy and uncom- 
 fortable expression. "I implore you," she 
 continued, with clasped Lands, " to believe 
 that I have revealed my wishes to you with 
 undisguised sincerity, without the smallest de- 
 sire that my future should be other than I 
 have pictured it. I do not I entreat you to 
 credit me forget, for a moment, that I inno- 
 cently, on my own part, have brought upon 
 the few who have tried to serve me, and whom 
 I could have loved tenderly and lastingly, 
 only bitterness and affliction even death I 
 have never forgotten it since I became ac- 
 quainted with the fact I shall never forget it 
 while I live ; but it will be my care that no 
 one, henceforward, shall be made to Buffer on 
 my account. You will see, Sir, now, after my 
 explanation, that I require but the humblest 
 sitting and sleeping-room. one, at first, which 
 will serve the purposes of both I should great- 
 ly prefer ; it w 11 best suit my present condi- 
 tion. I possess many accomplishments which, 
 resolutely and pereavcringly applied, will 
 bring me a pittance a scanty one is all I 
 need. In conclusion, I will ask of you the 
 last favor I trust I shall have to ask of any- 
 one in the world, and I would not even ask 
 it of you, if I thought it might be productive 
 even of inconvenience to you!" 
 
 " Ahem 1" coughed Bob, trying to clear his 
 voice. 4i Whafc is it, Mies ?" 
 
 44 Myself and the young lady who is my 
 companion arc excuse me if I repeat, from 
 no faults of our own are without relatives, or 
 even acquaintance?," she continued. " "We 
 have already found it difficult to obtain a fur- 
 nished apartment, being unable to give a refer- 
 esce to any person who can vouch that we are 
 simply honest. May I ask you, Sir, to inte- 
 rest yourself to procure for us such en apart- 
 ment, as I have suggested, and, further, to ob- 
 lige me with your advice and knowledge, so as 
 to enable us instantly to commence to earn the 
 bread which we must eat to live the term 
 which He has ordained for us to bear our 
 Cross on earth." 
 
 She paused. Her voice faltered a little, at 
 
 the last ; but she had maintained it clear and 
 moderately firm throughout, although the 
 tone was low, and onc or twice it shivered, aa 
 it were, with her deep emotion. 
 
 Bob coughed three or four times before he 
 attempted a reply, and then he eaid. with a 
 great utbur9t : 
 
 "You must excuse me, Miss, if I don't 
 speak very clearly, for I've a lump in my 
 thro, t jnat now as big as an egg ahem ! But 
 but Lord, Lord ! I cannot bear to heap 
 you speak in the way yon do, Miss. I ttll you 
 I can't bear it ahem ! ahem! I am rough 
 and thoughtless in my way, and I know very 
 well that I don't always express myself aa I 
 wish to do ; but 1 can see, I can form conclu- 
 sions, and I can feel ahem ! I say I can feel. 
 I have bthaved like a brute, for I've said what 
 I ought not to have said ; but, Lord, I was so 
 anxious that you ehoold think kindly of Susan 
 Atten, that, in my anxiety, I said just what 
 was 1'kely to make you think the reverie." 
 
 "Ifotbing you could have saiJ, er night 
 say, would have the effect of changing my 
 feelings of loving affection and tejadtrnees for 
 her," interposed Floret. 
 
 " But it has had a blistering effect OB you," 
 he rejoined, and added quickly, as she made a 
 gesture of dissent, " Don't interrupt me just 
 at the present moment, pleas* Miss, or I shall 
 lose what is uppermost in my mind. I tell 
 you I know something of your history 
 enough to make me know kow to shape my 
 course with respect to you. I knew pretty 
 Fanny Shelley; I knew Stephen Tere, as I 
 knew his brother Harry nay, they are cous- 
 ins of mine ; and I know Susan Attn. I love 
 them all as I love my heart's best blood, and I 
 know how deep th interest of three of them, at 
 least, was settled in your fate. Don't you 
 think that is enough for me? Don't you 
 think that is enough io make me interest my- 
 self in your behalf, without your troubling 
 yourself to put to me as a favor that which I 
 fikall do as a duty. I think so ! IS ow let me 
 tell you, aa a friend, that your thoughts and 
 feelings are in a very unnatural condition, and 
 they want a doctor to make them w* 11 sot a 
 medical doctor because it's my belief tbat he 
 would very sooa end the whole mat f cr with a 
 coffin asd spade ; but that doctor whose medi- 
 cine ia a clean, lively plc to live in, kind 
 friends about you, plenty to do, acd indepen- 
 dence of action. That you shall have. It is 
 unnatural, I say, to hear you taik. Yours is 
 not the language of despondency, of dejection, 
 of foreboding, but of absolute, hopelees de- 
 spair." 
 
 " It is !" *he exclaimed, " it must it will 
 ever b< while I live." 
 
 "Damme if it shall!" cried Bob, violently; 
 and added, with some confusion, " I beg your 
 pardon, Mies, I couldn't help it those expres- 
 sions of excitement, I think they call them, 
 will elip out now and then, in spite of our 
 teeth, won't they, Miss ? I think so. How- 
 evtr, that isn't just what I was going ta say. 
 I know that your mind is uneasy about your 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 87 
 
 future quarters ; let it rest quite easy on that 
 point, and quite easy, too, on another I mean 
 about getting something to do. I can settle 
 both points for you to day." 
 
 " I shall be deeply grateful," exclaimed 
 Floret, quietly and anxiously. 
 
 " Yes, within ten minutes from this time," 
 continued Bob, " or I may be too late, and 
 that won't do; at least, I think not. You eee, 
 Miss, I hare an aunt who lived for a good many 
 years down in Nottinghamshire, with the old 
 Marquis of Broadlands. She has left service 
 with a little she has saved, and she has taken 
 a house not far from here, ut the back of Eaton 
 Square, where she lets apartments. All the 
 best of the upper part is in the occupation of 
 two elderly maiden ladies, and the lower part 
 she has for herself. But she has just finished 
 famishing two top rooms, very quietly and 
 very moderately, which she means to let to 
 to there, juat two such parties as the young 
 lady up-stairs and yourself. I'll do the intro- 
 duction part, and that will be all that is neces- 
 sary for that part of the business. And then 
 for the other part of it, my aunt was speaking 
 to me about wanting a young lady, well edu- 
 cated, to take charge of a little orphan girl, 
 whose father is an officer in India, and whose 
 mother, who has not returned long to England 
 in ill health, has recently died. Now you have 
 been at a good schoo.1, 1 know, and you can 
 take charge of this little girl, can't you, 
 Miss?" 
 
 Floret bent her he* d. She felt that she was 
 unable to trust herself to speak. 
 
 " And," continued Bob, " we shall soon find 
 something for the young lady up-stairs to do, 
 very soon. Therefore you may, if you please, 
 Miss, wipe off a little piece of the cloud on 
 your brow, and I shall soon give you cause to 
 wipe off another piece, for I expect that Susan 
 and her husband, Harry Vere, will be back 
 again before very long. The old man down 
 home has won his lawsuits. Ay 1 the whole of 
 them, and he has now three farms, nearly two 
 thousand acres in all, to call his own. One he 
 keeps for himself, one be has settled on Ste- 
 phen, and the other on Harry, who are to pay 
 something toward making a fund for the rest of 
 the family. He has written to Canada for 
 both of them to come home immediately, and 
 you may be sure they will. There, won't that 
 bring back sunshine to your pretty face, 
 Miss '?" : She bent her head, and murmured : 
 
 "No!" 
 
 "Ah!"' responded Bob. looking solicitously 
 at her, " I think I know what you have on 
 your mind ; but I won't trusfc rnveelf to say 
 anything, for perhaps I should make a fool of 
 myself if I do. But this I will tell you : I 
 have seen the sky dark, the clouds low, rain 
 falling, and no risible sign that there will be 
 any change for a long, long time ; and while 
 this gloom has been hanging over me, dense 
 and thick, I've eeen a little spider pop out 
 from a gooseberry- branch, swing itself to an- 
 other, and begin briskly to spin its web. Then 
 that the clouds were going to clear off, , 
 
 and the brightest and clearest sunshine would 
 shortly and certainly follow. All round you, 
 Miss, has been gloom and darkness storm and 
 frost. But I can eee, though you can't, that 
 there is a web weaving in your case, and that 
 the clouds which harg threateningly over you 
 will soon be driven away. You shake your 
 head. You forget two things ; one, that yon 
 are very young : it is only morning witi you' 
 there ia plenty of time for sunshine before 
 your day can run out. The other, that it is 
 profitless work to mourn over circumstances, 
 unless you know that they are absolute facts!" 
 
 Floret started, and gazed inquiringly at Lim. 
 He put his bead on one side, and, with a emile 
 on his lip and a twinkle in his eye, responded:. 
 
 "Eh? I think so!" 
 
 Then he added, in a cheerful tone : 
 
 ' I'm off to aunt, now. I shall be back in 
 few minutes, and you can go, Miss, in the 
 meanwhile, and make your friend's mind hap- 
 
 He was back in a few minutes. In the in- 
 terval, Floret had explained to Ida what ar- i 
 rangemeats Bob bad proposed to make for- 
 them, and she listened to her with delight. \ 
 Oa Bob's rturn, he told them that he had 
 explained all that was necessary to his aunt, : 
 and that she would be glad to receive them! 
 as soon as they pleased to proeeed to he&J 
 house. 
 
 He offered to escort them thither, and they! 
 gladly aceepted his kindness. They parted' 
 with the utterance of earnest thanks to Bob's, 
 sister, who had, during their short stay, be- 
 haved to them with the kindest and most 
 thoughtful attention ; and they were very soon. 
 at the door of their new home. 
 
 Bob's aunt answered the door, and both* 
 Floret and Ida saw, in an inetant, that they 
 should like her she looked so kindly, so emil- 
 ing, and good-tempered. j 
 
 " My aunt, Mrs. Spencer," said Bob, with a-1 
 roguish nod of the head ; " one of the beet 
 sorts ont. The young ladies, Mrs. Spencer ; ' 
 two of the best sorts this side of Elysium thai 
 is, I think so " j 
 
 A glance at both satisfied a woman as ex- 
 perienced as Mrs. Spencer. She saw instantly, - 
 by their refined and delieate appearance, and 
 their lady-like manners, that they wore, if poor, 
 exceedingly well bred. She welcomed them in 
 a pleasant way, and at once introduced tnem 
 to their apartments. 
 
 Fiorfcfc gazed around her on entering them 
 with something like dismay. They though, 
 as Bob had said, very mocerately furnished j j 
 were beyond what she hoped or intended to j 
 engage. But, before she could offer a re- j ; 
 mark, a thin, delicate child, evidently born in , 
 India, with a sallow complexion, large, deep- [ 
 brown, thoughtful eyes, and long, dark hair, 
 which streamed loosely down to her shoulders, 
 was brought to her notice by Bob. 
 
 " The motherless child," he said, with a 
 shrewd glance at Floret, " and her new mam- 
 ma's little beauty. You will be a mamma to 
 her, for a time, won't you, Misa ?" 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 
 The child looked tip at her, sorrowfully and 
 wistfully. 
 
 t Fiortt caught her in her arms, bowed her 
 face upon her reck, and gobbed passionately. 
 
 There was a silence for a minute, and then 
 Floret drew herself up, and, with an impa- 
 tient gesture, brushed the tears from her eye- 
 lids. 
 
 She turned to Mrs. Spenoer, and said : 
 
 " You will pardon my emotion. I am in 
 weak health, and there are memories which 
 sometimes get the better of my self- com- 
 mand." 
 
 " I quite appreciate your tenderness, Miss," 
 responded Mrs. Spencer ; "and I am glad that 
 I hare witnessed it, for I am sure that you 
 will be kind to this poor little motherless 
 child. Terms will not be BO much a ques- 
 tion, for there is plenty of money in the fam- 
 ily. but kindness and tenderness will be every- 
 thing." 
 
 ' She shall not feel the reed of them while 
 in my charge," murmured Floret. 
 
 "Then all ia light for the present," obserred 
 Bob. <-Eb,aunt? Ithinkso!" 
 
 " All right, Bob," returned his aunt, with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Then," said he, "I shall return to my 
 drum with as light a heart in my body as ever 
 I had ia my life. Good-bye, young ladies ; I 
 shall drop in, now and then, to see how you 
 are getting on. Eh, aunt? I thick so !" 
 
 Bob waved his band, and scampered off, be- 
 fore they could, offer him one word of grateful 
 acknowledgment for his kindness to them. 
 
 " A kind, good-hearted boy ia Bob," observ- 
 ed Mrs. Spenoer, smiling. 
 
 Floret was about to reply, when her eye 
 was attracted by an oil portrait hanging in the 
 . room. 
 
 It was that of a youth of fouiteen ; he had 
 fair hair, parted at the side, rich blue eyes, a 
 handfeome face, and a most amiable expression 
 of countenance. 
 
 Mrs. Spencer saw that Floret's eyes settled 
 on the face, and she said, instant Jy : 
 . 4< Ah, the dear boy ! isn't he a sweet fellow ? 
 Ah I I've known him since he was first laid in 
 his cot. The kindest-hearted, the most gener- 
 ous-spirited, sweetest-tempered little fellow 
 he's a tall fellow now, though you could ever 
 meet with, Miss 1 Dear me ! I could tell you 
 many hundred anecdotes about him. He was 
 very par<iai to me, and I quit* doated on him, 
 the dear fellow I" 
 
 L " What is his name ?" inquired Ida. 
 P < Victor," replied Mrs. Spencer. 
 f " Victor Victor it is a very pretty name," 
 ', fiaid Ida, reflectively. " Where have I heard 
 it?" 
 
 ' Ah !" rejoined Mrs. Spencer, " it is a name 
 , I often mention in my prayers. He is Lord 
 , Victor Trentham, the eecond son of the Mar- 
 
 quis of Broad lands, with whom I lived, at 
 
 Trentham, in Nottinghamshire." 
 43 Floret sank upon a seat. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 And, Othat pang where taore than madness lies T 
 The worm that will net tleep and never di ~a ; 
 Thought of the gloomy day and ghastly night, 
 Yet dreads the darknew, and yet loathes the light. 
 That winds around asd tears the qnivenng htart ! 
 Ah ! wherefore net consume it and depart ?" 
 
 " Lord Vitor Trentham, second son of the 
 Marquis of Broadlandf, of Trentham Park, 
 Nottinghamshire I" How those words went to 
 the heart of poor Floret, and forced her into a 
 seat, as though each sound were a weapon 
 used to strike her down I 
 
 The sight of the portrait of the young lord 
 startled her, when her eyes roaming round the 
 walls of th apartment first fell upon it At 
 the first glance she had an impression that the 
 face strikingly resembled one which was far 
 dearer to her than she would trust herself to 
 acknowledge, even when completely alone 
 with her thoughts; but when Mrs. Spencer 
 somewhat abruptly mentioned the name 
 of the original, sueh a throng of thoughts 
 ruehed through her brain that she became 
 powerless, and sunk down upon a chair, for the 
 moment quite overcome. 
 
 In the delicate condition of frame to which 
 bad living, great anxiety of mind, and consid- 
 erable fatigue, recently endured, had reduced 
 her, she was an easy prey to emotion, espe- 
 cially the peculiar emotion which was created 
 by the observation of Mrs. Spencer. Had she 
 been in better health she would not have suf- 
 fered the words to pass by without betraying 
 any sign that the mention of Lord Victor's 
 name could affect her ; but being feeble, and 
 her nerves being wholly unstrung, she no 
 longer possessed that amount of self-control 
 which would enable her to conceal an inward 
 agony with an outward appearance of immov- 
 able calmness. 
 
 Yes, it ia useless to disguise it. The face, ' 
 form, name of Lord Victor were inexpressibly 
 dear to her. It is the nature of woman to love 
 something, and she evinces that disposition at 
 the earliest age, when her powers of afiection 
 are drawn first into existence by a dolL 
 Floret was not in this respect unlike her sex. 
 She had a full share of love in her composi- 
 tion, but circumstances had compelled it to 
 remain latent. Its powers were none the leas 
 intent on that account ; she wanted but the 
 object to lavish upon it a treasure of affec- 
 tion and tenderness which could not be sur- 
 passed. 
 
 The fac of Lord Victor, beautiful in itself 
 and what is more attractive than the bright, 
 handsome countenance of a high-bred boy? 
 beamed first upon her as that of an angel sud- 
 denly appearing to save her from the rough 
 and bruush usage of a boor. She saw it after- 
 ward only on occasions when it was shining on 
 her pleasantly, aiid its owner was striving to 
 save her the a poor, nameless outcast. It 
 had lived in her memory from the first mo- 
 ment she bchtld it, as a star by her unap- 
 proachable, but not the less to be wor- 
 shiped, 
 
OB, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIEL. 
 
 Since her interview with Hagar, when hope, 
 with the icy hand of a fiend, had been wrench- 
 ed out of her heart, she had inwardly and firm- 
 ly resolved that henceforward Lord Victor 
 should be only a memory to her. There were 
 times, perhaps, when in solitude, unbroken 
 even by a sound, she had indulged in delicious 
 dreams ef a paradise into which no care could 
 enter, and in which they could wander togeth- 
 er, loving and loved, without an alloy to their 
 happiness. She had dispersed those dreams 
 now. Sbe had, perhaps, set him. up in her 
 heart as an idol to be secretly worshiped ; but 
 that was all. So when she suddenly and un- 
 expectedly learned that Mrs. Sptncer had 
 known him from his infancy, and was respect- 
 ed by him, it became instantly a logical con- 
 clueion in her mind, that when he had the op- 
 portUEry fce would call upon Mrs. Spencer to 
 satisfy bimeelf about her health and prospects, 
 and that if in the future he were to do so, he 
 would occasionally be in the same house with 
 her, would probably see her, or hear of her, 
 and wuld then make an attempt to epeak to 
 her. 
 
 With this conviction pressing en her brain 
 pleasant as the eight of bis handsome face 
 would be in her eyes, sweetly aa the soft tones 
 of his voice would fall upon her ear, dear in- 
 deed as his presence would be, under any cir- 
 cumstances, save in bar own unhappy situa- 
 tion, to her she felt it to be a duty to avoid 
 him nay, a necessity for in his presence he 
 felt that she should cower to the earth in shame 
 and abject humiliation. 
 
 "Wbn Mrs. Spencer had concluded speak- 
 ing, Floret turned her eyes upon the portrait, 
 perhaps with the idea of looking her last upon 
 it, and ehe eaid, faintly : 
 
 " Does Lord Viator Trentham often visit 
 you here ?' J 
 
 Mrs. Spececr uttered a little scream. 
 
 " Lord bless the child I" she exclaimed ; 
 " no ofc, no ! His lordship baa not left col- 
 lege yet ; and in his vacation he is too much 
 occupied to think about me, though he does 
 write to nee, and send at times to kindly in- 
 quire about me. No, my dear young lady, 
 the old Marquis and Marchioness have hon- 
 ored me by calling twice upon me when they 
 have come to town, just to ask after my 
 health and see how 1 am getting on; but 
 young Lord Victor has not been to this 
 house, and I daresay never will come. No, 
 Miss, when I want to see him and I can tell 
 you that is not seldom, I go up to the town- 
 house, or manage a few days down at Tren- 
 tham Park. No, no, I lon't expect to eee him 
 here." 
 
 Floret heaved a sigh of relief, and took 
 off her bonnet and mantle. Ida instantly fol- 
 lowed her example, clapped her hands with 
 glee, went down upon her knees before the 
 child, began to tickle and play with it; and 
 Mrs. Spencer, with a bustling, smiling face, 
 hurried off to prepare something unusually 
 tempting, nice, and Eouriehing for dinner. 
 
 Six months passed away, end spring, after 
 
 an unusually cevere winter, had arrived. A 
 rich, beautiful, blue-skyed, warm spring ; the 
 leaves and blossoms, the Iruits, and tbe flow- 
 ers were all bursting into glorious and luxuri- 
 ant life. It found Floret and Ida still with 
 Mrs. Spencer; and it found them greatly 
 changed in appearance, and in their condition 
 of mind that is to eay, Floret's despair had 
 not been weakened, diminidhed, or invaded 
 even by the shadow of a hope, but ehe was 
 perfectly calm and resigned to her fate. She 
 expected no better condition than that she 
 was now en joy L g ; and as all ambition was 
 now dead within her, she wished for no other. 
 She was contented, and even outwardly cheer- 
 ful, for she did not obtrude upon Ida the one 
 bitter, cankering sorrow ever gnawing at her 
 own heart, whoee corrosion, if not arrested, 
 would eat up her young life, and that at no 
 very distant period ; and she exerted herself 
 many times, when it was an exertion, to make 
 I -a lively and happy, if she saw that 83me in- 
 ward thoughts traced a pensive cloud upoii 
 her brow. 
 
 In spite of her settled sadness, there was a 
 great improvement in her outward appearance. 
 The absence of society, the regularity of liy- 
 ing, the sufficiency of good and nourishing 
 diet, eould not fail to tell favorably upon her 
 frame, and she appeared now more lovely than 
 she had ever done before in her life. She was 
 tall, her figure was both commanding and 
 graceful, and she moved with the ease and dig- 
 nity not only of one born in a high sphere, but 
 of one who was also bred to an elevated sta- 
 tion. Mild, even meek, in her words, she yet 
 awed Mrs. Spencer ; but it was the awe which 
 was reverential, not that which is created 
 by hauteur. That good lady could not help 
 cogitating much about her. She had no doubt, 
 whatever might be the circumstances which 
 had placed her in BO humble a condition, that 
 she was by birth connected with some rery 
 high family, and she treated her accordingly. 
 
 Mrs. Spencer had succeeded, through some 
 influence she possessed, in obtaining for both 
 Floret and Ida fancy work of the rarer kinds 
 to do, from an establishment in Regent street, 
 and she kindly acted as their agent. She went 
 for orders, and took them home when executed, 
 handing over to Floret, who was the treasurer 
 and manager for both, the proceeds. This 
 work, added to the salary which Floret had for 
 attending to and instructing the little orphan 
 child, enabled both her and Ida to provide 
 themselves with a small wardrobe each, and to 
 appear in a manner more agreeable to their 
 wishes, and very different to that to which they 
 had been accustomed. Dress, when well chosen, 
 and worn with becoming taste, is en aid to the 
 beauty of even the most beautiful. Both 
 Floret and Ida were exceedingly good-looking, 
 but when dreseed in their new actire, fashioned 
 and trimmed as it wes according to the latent 
 mode, they were sufficiently elegant in their 
 appearance to have commanded the admiration 
 of thoee from whom praise would be praise in- 
 deed. 
 
HAGAR LOT; 
 
 That shorfc eix mouths had douo much for 
 them, and Mrs, Spencer waa delighted to see 
 how much. Her nephew, Bob, true to his 
 promise, called now and then to see " bow they 
 were getting on", as he said ; and when he had 
 seen, he Bever failed to giro a joyous twinkle 
 of the eye, a screwing smile of the lip, to hold 
 his head slightly and roguishly on one aide, 
 and to jaeulate : " I think so." He sent them 
 in many little luxuries, which thty enjoyed, 
 without knowing that he was the donor ; and, 
 even in their wardrobe, they could not hare 
 become possessed of half the stcck they had 
 had acquired, if he had not contrived that they 
 should obtain them at rery much less than the 
 cost price. 
 
 No tidings had been reeeired of Sunan Atten 
 by Bob since Floret's arrival in Pimlico, and 
 he, by that silence, couoluded that the Veres 
 and Susan were on thir way home. Floret waa 
 not grieved at (his silence in fact, it would be 
 almost just to say that she was rejoiced, for she 
 had a distressing fear that, if Susan did come 
 home, and they were to be rejoined, that ench 
 a reunion would only bring disaster to Susan, 
 and a new unhappiness to herself. 
 
 As she was now situated, she was peaceful 
 and resigned ; she did not wish to disturb her 
 position : and though wken alone she frequent- 
 ly examined the card which N"ak Ferret had 
 given to her, and thought with no common 
 earnestness over his inuendoes, she decided not 
 to communicate with him. She could not nee 
 how her condition was to be improved by sught 
 that he could accomplish ; she had no deaire 
 to make it worse, and she certainly had no wish 
 to bring upon herself disgrace and humiliation 
 by publishing to the world the infamy of her 
 birth, even though she might compel a greater 
 amount of justice to be rendered to her than 
 Lad been meted out to her. 
 
 She thought it strange that Liper Leper had 
 never mada his appearance, nor had sent any 
 communication to her ; but she argued from 
 this that there was no danger approaching her ; 
 and she felt, consequently, that it was certain- 
 ly advisable, for her own sake, to make no 
 movement which should disturb her present 
 peaceful state. 
 
 Having got over her fear of a visit from 
 Lord Tictor to Mrs. Spencer, it was the source 
 of deep but silent gratification to her when the 
 old lady came up and sat with them to have 
 ",'a bit of chat", as she said, but in reality to 
 do any little odd job in mending or making 
 they might require, to draw her into a conver- 
 sation about him. If the old dame happened 
 to be in a garrulous vein, she went into num- 
 berless particulars about his boyhood, which, 
 but for her good-humor, would never have 
 been narrated. 
 
 " He was such a curious boy," observed the 
 old woman one day, reflectively ; ' he would 
 set his heart upon things no one but he would 
 ever dream of caring a pin for. Dear, dear 
 what an awful paseion he flew into one day 
 with me!" 
 
 " With you I" remarked Ida, with a quiet 
 
 mile. " I Bhonl j never liavo thought that ha 
 could have been out of temper with you 
 such a dear, kind, good creature as you are." 
 
 Mrs. Spencer smiled. 
 
 " Ay, but he could, though," she rejoined, 
 " and all through a bunch of rubbishing wild 
 flowers." i 
 
 "Wild flowers!" ejaculated Floret, softly, 
 looking up from her work. 
 
 " Yes," continued Mrs. Spencer, " a nosegay 
 of wild flowers, which some poor, little, bare- 
 legged, ragged girl gave to him in Trentham 
 Wood one day ah ! it's a good mny years 
 ago, asd yet it seems but yesterday." 
 
 Floret felt her heart beat rapidlj. 
 
 " Why should he be angry wioh you, Mrs. 
 Spencer, on account of the flowers ?" she 
 asked, in an undertone, looking down stead* 
 faetly upon her work again. i 
 
 " Well, my dear young Miss, to tell you the 
 truth," replied Mrs. Bpencer, smilingly, " I be- 
 lieve this ragged child, a mere e'hit, had a 
 very pretty face ; and, boy as he was, he liked 
 a girl with a pretty face better than one with 
 an ugly one the rogue. Ah, me 1 It's the 
 aex, Mias ; they're all alike" i 
 
 " But the the flowers," suggested Floret, a 
 little anxiously. 
 
 " Well, Miss, I cannot tell you ell the cir- 
 cumstances, how he came by the flowers, and 
 so on," pursued Mrs. Spencsr ; " I only know 
 that one day, while setting his ILtle favorite 
 room to rights his study, Miss I notieed 
 that a quantity of the commoner wild flowers 
 that grow by the hedgeside had been 
 formed into a bouquet, and put arefully into 
 a white vase, with some water to preserve them 
 as long as they would blow. There they re- 
 mained, day after day, until they began to die 
 off; so I went to the gardener, and made him 
 gather me a very pretty bouquet of the choicest 
 flowers in blossom, and I put it into the rase, 
 instead of the wild flowers." 
 
 " What did you what became of the wild 
 flowers? ' ir quired Floret, in a voice that was 
 scarcely audible. 
 
 "Ob, I threw them away," returned Mra. 
 Spencer, promptly. 
 
 How at that moment Floret in her heart 
 hated Mrs. Spencer. 
 
 "Thre was all the mischief," continued 
 Mrs. Spencer. " Lord Victor happened to 
 come into the room shortly afterward, and I 
 pointed out to him that 1 had been putting 
 his room in" order. With his usual courtesy 
 and goed breeding, he thanked me, and 
 praised me for my attention, aad for the or- 
 derly arrangement of the books acd papers, 
 which had previously been scattered about the 
 apartment in the wildest confusion. In the 
 f (illness of my heart, I drew hia attention to the 
 beautiful bouquet, with which I had replaced 
 the d^icg, worthless wild flowers, and then he 
 stared at me, end absolutely turn<nd as white as 
 a ghost ; just as if I had abruptly told him 
 that something dreadful had happened. ' Mrs. 
 Spencer,' he said, in a quiet voice, but I hetrd 
 it shake, though, * Mrs. Specccr, vrhere have 
 
OR, THE FATE OP THE POOR GIRL, 
 
 91 
 
 you placed the \vilcl flowera that were in the 
 vaee ?' ' 1 have thrown them away, my Lord,' 
 I answered, rather meekly, for I began to fancy 
 I had done wrong ; when, dear me ! dear me I he 
 flew into the most awful passion for a young 
 gentleman that you can imagine 0! you 
 couldn't imagine it. He threw the vase, and 
 the flowers I had obtained from the gardener 
 for him, out of the window ; he raved and 
 stamped about the room in a perfect frenzy ; 
 and what do you think he continued saying"?" 
 
 Floret was silent ; her heart beat so violent- 
 ly that the pjwer of articulation was denied 
 altogether. 
 
 " Why," proceeded Mrs. Spencer, without 
 waiting for her reply, " he kept saying that 
 they were the unsolicited gift of a poor girl, 
 and that he prized them more dearly on that 
 account than if they had been given to him 
 by an m press." 
 
 "What a darling!" ejaculated Ida, in the 
 most impressive manner 
 
 "I never before, nor have I ever since, seen 
 him in such, a frenzy," resumed Mrs. Spencer : 
 " I did not kaow how to pacify him ; and I 
 begged him to tell me what I could do to re- 
 pair the mischief I had done. He seemed 
 convulsed with passion ; but a* length, looking 
 at me furiously, he said that I could do noth- 
 ing but restore the flowers, which I had so 
 thoughtlessly, BO heedlessly, so wickedly flung 
 away. Fortunately, I remembered where I had 
 tossed them, and trembling all over, and quite 
 in a profuse perspiration, I hurried to the spot, 
 and eure enough, to my own great delight, 
 there they were, lying just as I had thrown 
 them. I whipped them up, and hurried back 
 with them to him. When I showed them to 
 him, he absolutely snatched them from me, 
 and then bade me leave him to himself. 1 was 
 glad enough to get away from him that morn- 
 ing I assure you." 
 
 41 But what did he do with the flowers ?" in- 
 quired Ida, with evident interest, while Floret, 
 with face, neck, bosom, suffused with the 
 crimson, remained quite silent. 
 
 " O," returned Mrs. Spencer, shrugging her 
 shoulders, " 1 happened to take a message to 
 him from the Marquis about an hour after- 
 ward, and there he was, busily engaged with 
 some pieces of blottirg-paper, and I do not 
 know what else beside, drying and fussing 
 with those stupid flowers, laying them careful- 
 ly upon the sheets of paper, separating the 
 leaves and blossoms with such patience and 
 perseverance, it was quite wonderful to be- 
 held. 'There,' Mrs. Spencer,' he said, with 
 glee, when he perceived me observing him with 
 surprise, there, you see, I take more care of a 
 gift than you do.' Of course, I couldn't say 
 anything, and I did not ; I only thought what 
 a strange boy he was. My life for ifc, he has 
 those very flowers carefully put away in some 
 secret place now. Dear, dear, the fuss there 
 was about those poor wild flowers. 
 
 Floret bent her head lower and lower over 
 her work, as Mrs. Spencer drew toward a con- 
 olu|ion, to conceal the thickly-falling tearc, 
 
 which, in spite of her effotta to conceal them, 
 would force their way from her eyelids. A 
 sigh, of euch deep, such acute ageny, and so 
 prolonged, escaped from her lips that it reach- 
 ed Ida's eara. 
 
 She turned her eyes instantly upon Floret, 
 and perceived her emotion. Tbe truth at 
 once flashed through her brain. She remem- 
 bered now where she had heard the name of 
 Lord Victor. She remembered now 'that she 
 had seen him, loo. 
 
 It was not difficult to guess that Floret, hav- 
 ing met him under some circumstances with 
 which she was unacquainted, had fallen in love 
 with him, and that at a time when the eyes oee 
 through the heart when the judgment, tram- 1 
 meled by love, perceives no distinction of posi- A 
 tion, and thinks nothing impossible that it 
 wishes to happea. It was not difficult to 
 guess that her judgment, having become 
 clearer, pointed out to her that her love was 
 hopeless, and that she had surrendered her 
 heart to a chimera. j 
 
 Ida understood all, and respected as she 
 sympathized with Floret's silent grief; ehe 
 hoped that ifc might not be her own case. She 
 mentally thanked Heaven that she had not 
 fallen iu love with Hjde Vaughau, wlio was 
 Lord Victor's companion, because, if she had, 
 there could be EO doubt that her own plight 
 would bo as pitiable as that of Floret. 
 
 Uot that Hyde Vaughan was, in her opin- 
 ion, less handsome, Ifss attractive, lees lov- 
 able at first sight than Lord Victor ; indeed, if 
 there were to arise a situation hi which it 
 would be necessary for her to betray a prefer- 
 ence, she rather fancied that Hjde Vaughan 
 would stand the best chance of wicnicg it 
 from her ; but, withal, she was not in love wM* 
 him. No ; she had not seen enough of him for 
 that. No ; her heart was quite^her own as 
 yet, and Hydo Vaughan might, for her, marry 
 whomsoever he pleased. She felt, it is true, 
 that she should deliberately, and without 
 qualification, hate his wife, though that would, 
 she knew, be very wrong ; but that was by way 
 of episode, and as ehe should probably never 
 see her, and certainly never ksew her, she fan- 
 cied that, wrong as it was, there could not be 
 much harm in it. Just to show, in fact, that 
 she could epeak of him with ease, and would 
 not be in any degree affeoted by the mention 
 of his name, or the relation of any circum- 
 stances with which. b was affected, she said to 
 Mrs. Spencer : 
 
 " Did you ever hear that Lord Victor had a 
 friend a dear male friend to whom he waa 
 very strongly attached?'' 
 
 "Yep," returned Mra. Spencer, with sur- 
 prise. " Why, my dear ?" 
 
 "O, nothing -nothing," ehe returned, sud- 
 denly, blushiuar, and exhibiting her coolness 
 and self-possession by a half-frightened look. 
 " I only thought that a young gentleman a 
 young nobleuinn w who waB so fond of a 
 young of a poor a bunch of wild flowers a 
 must be must be passionately fond of a 
 friend. That waa all," she returned, vith much 
 
HAGAR LOT j 
 
 eonfaeion. She was, in fact, herself surprised 
 that her uneoncern was not so available as ehe 
 thought it would have proved. 
 
 " Well, Lord Victor certakly did have, and 
 he now has, a most intimate companion and 
 friend, of whom he was much fonder than of 
 his own brother, and that was the Honorable 
 Hyde Vaogban," returned Mrs. Spencer, 
 calmly. " I expect him heri to-morrow morn- 
 ing, at eleven ; be is to bring me a message 
 from the Mdrcjuia of BroaJlands, who does 
 not forget me when be has an opportunity of 
 eendiag to me. "Would you likd to see him ? 
 he is such a nice, handsome young gentle, 
 man." 
 
 " Not for the world?" exclaimed Floret and 
 Ida y luth on breath. 
 
 Mrs. Spencer looked at them with surprise, 
 and then she laughed. 
 
 "Ah!"' she said, shaking her head, "you 
 will neither of yon always be ao desirous of 
 shunning the eight of a gentleman ! Mr. Eight 
 Kill present himself at the right time, and 
 you'll both ef you find yourselves married al- 
 most before you have any idea of changing 
 your condition." 
 
 Ta next morning, Floret confined herself 
 to her chamber. Ida did the same ; but 
 jumped and startled every time there was a 
 knock at the street-door, or a ring at the bell. 
 As the clock was striking eleven, Mrs. Spencer 
 came into the sitting-room, and told Ida that 
 there wan a person below who wished to seo 
 her. Her cheek blanched, and her young 
 heart palpitated furiously. She inquired of 
 Mrs. Spencer, with a face AS white as death, 
 who it could be who wanted to se her. 
 
 u A yonBg woman from Regent street, about 
 some fresh work for yo a ; she wishes to give 
 the in s true lions only to yourself," returned 
 Mrs. Spencer. 
 
 Ida Hew down stairs like a bird. Mrs. 
 Spencer followed her, at a slow pace. 
 
 In the hall, Ida ran into the arms of a gen- 
 tleman, who, at the moment, had opened~the 
 door and entered. 
 
 " I beg your pardon I" he exclaimed ; and, 
 as he caught a glimpse of Ida's face, he ejacu- 
 lated : " Good Heaven !" 
 
 It was Hyde Vaughan. 
 
 A f*int scream burst from Ida's Hps, She 
 was about to fly up the etaira *gain, but he 
 caught her by the wrist. 
 
 " One wore!, I entreat of you," he said, hast- 
 ily. " Do you live here ?" 
 , " Yes," she replied, faintly. 
 
 " I nausfc fee you again," he said rapidly. 
 "I Bauet speak with you alone say think, 
 . how it ean be managed." 
 ' " It is im possible!" she murmured, and tried 
 . to disengage herself from his grasp, 
 jf " It is imperative, and not impossible," he 
 urged. *' Be quick ; some one comes. Wbere 
 can I eee yon ? You have no idea of the im- 
 portance of what I ask." 
 
 She flung off his hand, and, witft a dignity 
 which startled him, said : 
 
 "I have told you, Sir, that I live here. If 
 
 you have anything important to say to me 
 address me through Mrs. Spencer." 
 
 '* You do not understand me I" he said, hur- 
 riedly. 
 
 " Nor do yon understand me," she returned, 
 with flushed cheeks and brow. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Spencer made her ap- 
 pearance ; the Honorable Hyde Vauchan im- 
 mediately addressed her, and she conducted 
 him, with much stately eercmony, into her 
 sitting-room. Simultaneously the young wom- 
 an from the house m Regent street who had, 
 unobserved, been standing ia a dark corner of 
 the hall emerged from her obscurity, and 
 placed a parcel in Ida's hands. With it she 
 entered into a series of particulars of which 
 Ida had only the haziest notion. She heard 
 her to the end, however, with apparent pa- 
 tience and attention, although she trembled 
 so that the young woman not'ed it, and bade 
 her recover herself, and think nothing of it 
 for that gentlemen were very impudent, and 
 were always ready to insult a poor girl when 
 they had the chance. 
 
 As soon as the girl bad completed the direc- 
 tions she was instructed to give, she departed, 
 and Ida flew up the staire, and entering the 
 sitting-room, looked round for Floret. She 
 was not there the little Indian girl was 
 seated at the tabl, busy at her books ; but 
 she was alone. 
 
 Ida laid down hr parcel of fancy-work, and 
 ran into the bed-room ; Floret was seated on 
 the bed, and in tears. 
 
 Ida, in her excitement, did not notice this. 
 She flung her trembling arms round Floret's 
 neck, and said, ia a voice which quivered in 
 every tone : 
 
 " O darling, I've sen him I've seen him P' 
 
 With a fa<w paler than marble, FJoret re- 
 joined : 
 
 "Whom? Lord Victor!" 
 
 " Nono," whispered Ida ; " hia dear friend 
 and compaEioB, Mr. Hyde Vaughan." 
 
 Floret became as coid as ice. Ifc was much 
 the same as if she had seen Lord Victor. 
 
 She knew that her present home could be 
 her pleasant home no longer. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " Acd there with glassj gaze the stood, 
 Aa ice were in her curdled blood ; 
 But every now acd then a tear, 
 So large and ilovly gather'd, slid 
 From the long dark fringe of that fair lid 
 It waa a thing to tee, not hear ! 
 And those who saw, it did surprise, 
 Such drops could fall from human eyes. 
 To speak the thought th' imperfect note 
 Was choked within her swelling throat, 
 Yet seem'd in that low, hollow groan, 
 Her whole heart gmshing in the tone." 
 
 -BTROK. 
 
 It was some little time before Floret recov- 
 ered from her agitation sufficiently to ask, and 
 Ida had obtained a mastery over her excitement 
 to explain, what transpired at the interview be- 
 tween the latter and the Honorable Hyde 
 Vaughan in the hall. 
 
 When, with parched white lips, Ida had re- 
 lated all that she had to communicate, Fiorel 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 thought that it aiobnnted to nothing ; Ida, to a 
 Very great deal. Floret imagined> as it was 
 perfectly natural for her to do, that Hy^e 
 Vaugban would have put fifty questions to Ida 
 about her. Ida had no idea that Hyde Vaughan 
 had any thoughts in his head about any other 
 than herself. 
 
 1 As she thought over what had happened, she 
 fancied that she had behaved harshly, coldly, 
 cruelly to him. Why should her spirit have 
 rebelled at his request? why should she in- 
 stinctively have felt wounded by his proposi- 
 tion to her to meet him alone? What was 
 there wrong in it ? he might have something 
 to say to her which he wished no one to hear 
 but herself. And what could he have to say 
 to her that esuld possibly offend her ? 
 
 His hand was so silken and soft, his eyes so 
 earnest and pleading, bla voice eo tender and 
 persuasive. She was vexed with herself for 
 having been so cross to him. It was very 
 likely that she should never se him again, and 
 she had only hereelf to blame for it. 
 
 Sh thought that he looked so sorrowful 
 when she tore bereelf away from him, and she 
 promised herself that if another opportunity 
 for a meeting occurred, she would not be so 
 cold or so grand to him. 
 
 Poor girl ! she did not understand in what 
 dkection those feelings in his favor tended, or 
 if nourished, how fatal they might prove to 
 herself. - 
 
 Floret, after & short silence, intimated to her 
 that it would be imperative upon them to quit 
 Mrs. Spencer's house and seek another home ; 
 but Ida, though she said nothing, was unable 
 to seethe necessity for any such removal. 
 
 She was, however, prepared to follow 
 wherever Floret led ; but it would have been 
 a dangerous situation for her if, at the moment 
 ghe was meditating on Floret's intimation, 
 Hyde Vaughan had stood at her elbow, and 
 presented to her the alternative of his society, 
 a pleasant home, and no probability of future 
 want. 
 
 Tne two girls, after their communion, await- 
 ed with some impatience and some dread the 
 coming of Mrs. Spencer, and though she did 
 come at her usual time to attend upon them, it 
 seemed Icng after it. They did not turn their 
 eyes up to her, they listened ior a change in 
 hfcr tone, and a communication of which they 
 could form no idea, save that it would not be 
 favorable to them. 
 
 To their surprise, there was BO change in 
 the old lady's voice or in her conduct. She 
 was as cheerful and as chatty as usual, and 
 went through the routine of her duties as ex 
 actly as she had always done. 
 
 And she made no communication to them 
 arising out of the visit of the Honorable Hyde 
 Vaughan. 
 
 She did not even mention his name. 
 : And a whole week paesed away without 
 her eaying anything about him, to the sur- 
 prise of Floret and the amazing disappoint- 
 ment of Ida. 
 ; Tibia conduct appeared BO singular to Ida 
 
 after what he had said to her. He declared 
 hat be had something very important to com- 
 munic^te to her; and if he had, ehe thought, 
 why had he not accepted her proportion and 
 addressed her through Mrs. S^enctr? 
 
 Sbe wished now that she had stopped and 
 is'ened to what he had to say. Floret; haoj 
 jraised her warmly for the manner in which 
 he had acted upon the occasion of meeting 
 ilm she was not so sure herself that she had 
 doce wisely. j 
 
 And she'fretted and fretted, and formed vain 
 wishes, and in this, at least, acted very un- ' 
 wisely. 
 
 And as the time wore on, the work respect- 
 ng which she had received instructions was I 
 completed, and it was sent home. A message 
 was, however, returned to her to fay that the 
 nstruotioES given had not been followed ; but, 
 as the work was very beautifully executed, it 
 would be retained, and materials for a fresh 
 piece, to be executed according to the original 
 nstructions, would be given out ; but, in or- 
 der to prevent any farther mistakes, the > oung 
 ady who had done the work was requested to 
 receive the iEstructions personally from the 
 principal of the eatabli&iment in Regent 
 itreet. 
 
 After some consultation, it was arranged 
 that Ida should accompany the young woman 
 who brought the message back to Regent 
 street, and that Mrs. Spencer, who was then 
 busy, should, when at liberty, go and meet 
 her, and accompany her. 
 
 A route was laid down, so that it would be 
 im possible to miss each other, and the ar- 
 rangement was carried out. 
 
 Floret was left alone with the little Indian 
 girl. 
 
 The afternoon was warm and sonny, anfl the 
 child, overcome by the heat, fell into a deep 
 slumber. Floret conveyed her to her bed, and 
 laying her gently upon it, watcbed her a few 
 moments. Observing that she slept tranquilly, 
 she returned to her titting-rocm, and occupied 
 herself with some needlework while ehe in- 
 dulged in a fit of abstraction. 
 
 In deep and profound thought she remained 
 for some little time, and at lengthshe heaved a 
 profound sigh, and murmured : 
 
 " He did not despise my poor flowers, how 
 can I help honoring him, if only for that. He 
 was so respectful and gentle, too, and " 
 
 She pau ed, her eyelids became distended, 
 her lips parted, and an expression of in.ense 
 amazement passed over her features. 
 
 In the doorway, regarding her with earnest 
 attention and unequivocal admiration, stood a 
 young and elegant man. 
 
 Sbe sprang to her feet, for she saw that it 
 was Lord Victor Trentham who stood before 
 her. 
 
 A faint scream escaped her lips, and her im- 
 pulse was to fly but whither? Tben v too, 
 there came to her instantly the impression that 
 s^sh an act would be childish, and opposed to 
 certain dignified feelings which were inherent 
 in her, and which mostly determined her ac- 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 tion, when impulses and iiMihtsta would have 
 induced hr to take Botee^oXxree of which they 
 did not approve. 
 
 She fitood etill, and unable to bear the soft 
 yet intense gaze of his luatrious liquid eyes, 
 she bent her head toward the ground. 
 
 " I have to apologize to you for an apparent 
 intrusion," commenced Lord Victor, in a soft 
 and gentle tone. ' I assure you that my ap- 
 pearance here is not intended as such, and be- 
 fore I leave, I hope that you will acknowledge 
 that it has not been one. I have been seeking 
 for Mrs. Spencer all over the houee ; I was in- 
 formed that I should find her in this room. I 
 gave a gentle summons &t the door here. I 
 presume that yon did not hear me, for I have 
 stood in your presence almost a minute before 
 you have discovered me. Let me explain why 
 I did this. I am here, I at once admit, for tho 
 purpose of eeeing you ; but, when my eyes 
 first fell upon your face, I was not qure cer- 
 tain that I had entered the right apartment, or 
 that I was about to address the lady of whom 
 I cacie hither in search. A second glance re- 
 assured me, however, that I was gazing upon 
 a fftee which was indelibly fixed upon my 
 memory when I was a boy, and which, I am 
 quite sure, will never fade from it while I 
 live." 
 
 Floret was very pale, and breathed with dif- 
 ficulty ; but, though the task was a difficult 
 one, she forced herself to say. 
 
 " Cruelty, my Lord, I do not believe to be a 
 fault of yours. I have been given to under- 
 stand that you would not wantonly inj ure a 
 worm. I beg of you to spare me the pain of 
 compliments. You have ventured bravely in 
 my bhalf, do not wound me now that I am 
 helpless." 
 
 " It was not with a view of complimenting 
 you that I referred to a fact," he answered. 
 " The circumstances attending the few meet- 
 ings which have taken place between us have 
 been so exceptional that, without attempting 
 to pay a mere compliment, I am justified in 
 asserting that it is improbable I shall ever for- 
 get your face, or the circumstances undr 
 which we have met." 
 
 " I give you credit for truth," said Floret, 
 in the same undertone, which quivered at ev- 
 ery word. " That, I have learned, is one of 
 your virtues let me hope that among the 
 many noble qualities attributed to you, you 
 possess oompassion." 
 
 'Compassion!" he ejaculated, with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Yes, my Lord, I repeat compassion," 
 she rejoined with emotion, which she found it 
 impossible to conceal. " You know something 
 of my history enough to make it appear 
 strange to you painful, O Heaven ! inconceiv- 
 ably painful to me. There are are some per- 
 son?, my Lord, whose opinions of us we treat 
 wr.h vineoncern there there are others 
 whose good opinion we should deem cheaply 
 purchased by the Baciifiee of a life whose 
 scorn whose disdain whose contempt would 
 be worse worse than any death any torture 
 
 any fcotrdls ol tfftftiy which huaiia rualiguiiy 
 or fcrc^ity could dtvise." 
 
 Sb turned her head away. 
 
 *' How can this apply to me?" he said, quick- 
 ly and anxiously. She remained si?ei.t. 
 
 " I should feel keenly wounded, I confess," 
 he continued, with a solicitous expression, " if 
 I were to imagine that you held my opinion of 
 you with unconcern ; but you inflict upon 
 yourself most unnecessary pain, if you con- 
 ceive for an instant that at any time the opin- 
 ion I do hold of you could degenerate iato a 
 sentiment which, while it could never be 
 derogatory to you, would be mobt unworthy 
 to me." 
 
 *' You do not know, my Lord, what feeling a 
 knowledge of my unhappy history might gen- 
 erate in your breast," she said, hurriedly, and 
 added, in a beseeching tone, '*! entreat you, 
 therefore, to spare me the misery of listening 
 to any proposition you may be here with the 
 purpose of making to me, and which I know, 
 before I hear it, I must reject ; and I pray of 
 you to conclude an interview at the earliest 
 moment, which whatever may be its influ- 
 ences upon you inflicts upon me the most 
 acute anguish." 
 
 " I will not discuss the point with you," re- 
 plied Lord Victor, in a tender and soothing- 
 rather than a compassionate tone ; " that . 
 feel would be a proceeding calculated, indeed,. 
 to inflict unnecessary pair* upon you .and upon 
 me for it 13 no idle observation thoughtlessly 
 made which urges me to say, that to' see you, 
 suffer would make me suffer too." 
 
 Again she turned her head from him, and he 
 could see, by the heaving of her bosom, how- 
 great was tiie inward emotion that she was en- 
 during. 
 
 " I will, on the contrary, proceed to lay be- 
 fore you the mission with which I am in- 
 trusted," he continued, a little hurriedly.;. 
 ' and if, during my statement, any question* 
 should arise that will enable me to combat 
 the morbid views which I will venture to say 
 you needlessly entertain, it will be fair ground 
 on which to meet you, and will, I have no 
 doubt, rob the Discussion of at least much of 
 the pain ib mi^ht otherwise entail upon you." 
 
 "With an (ffjrt, Floret turned to him, and 
 said, in a subdued tone : 
 
 " Proceed, my Lord, I will listaa to you." 
 
 " I thank you," he said, with a- gratified ex- 
 pression whether assumed or not is of no 
 consequence ; it was, at least, intended that 
 ehe should believe it to be such, and she did 
 think _so. "Before I proceed any further," 
 he added, " allow me to request of you to fa- 
 vor me with the name by which throughout 
 our discourse, and in future, I shall address 
 you." 
 
 She looked full in his face, with a sudden 
 movement, which almost startled him. He 
 saw, however, by the expression of unutterable 
 pain and misery which appeared on her death- 
 Jy fvhite features, that hia abrupt question had 
 inflicted upon her the mast severe and acute 
 torture. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOH GIRL. 
 
 95 
 
 With neme embarrassment Le euid, hastily, 
 and in an earnest tone : 
 
 " You will remember thafc I know yen only 
 by the name which you gave to me when I was 
 but a boy, and you a mere child. When I met 
 you upon one Thursday in Treuthara "Wood, 
 you told me that your name was the POOB 
 GIRL ; and that though you were called occa- 
 sionally by the name of Floret, you .preferred 
 the former title." 
 
 She burst into a passion of tears, and sob- 
 bed violently so violently, that Lord Victor 
 appeared greatly distressed by her emotion. 
 
 And through her tears she said, wildly : 
 
 " Call me by that name address me alone 
 as the Pooa GIRL, It ia now the only name I 
 can justly claim it ia the only name which 
 truly conveys my most miserable condition." 
 
 *'I beg of you to exert the better qualities 
 of your mind," responded Lord Victor, grave- 
 ly, " and compose yourself. Theee wild bursts 
 of grief injure you surely they serve you 
 nothing. Let me entreat you to control your 
 anguish, and to look forward hopefully to a 
 brighter term cf your life." 
 
 44 That is impossible, my Lord !" she ex- 
 claimed, almost vehemently, and added, im- 
 patiently : " I am prepared to endure my fate 
 to go ihfongh it to the end henceforward 
 without a vain murmur or useless complain- 
 ing. I know the worst and knowing it, am 
 prepared to bear it ; but I am not, and I feel 
 that I never shall be, able to endure euch dis- 
 cussions respecting it as this, which is now, my 
 Lord, takiug place between you and me. Spare 
 me, I implore you take your departure from 
 me, and forget me forget that one who ia un- 
 conscious how she has "deserved of Heaven a 
 fate so miserable ae that which she has had to 
 undergo, and will have to endure, ever Lad any 
 existence." 
 
 He gazed at hor with sorrowful earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 " I listen to you, Floret," he rejoined ' 
 adopting the nam which, in his estimation, 
 was the least objectionable of the tw^o which 
 had been submitted to him to select from " I 
 listen to you needfully, and I will treat your 
 wishes with reaped; when I have lost all hope 
 of making you think differently to what you 
 do now. But there is something due to you 
 from others who are interested in your fate 
 which you have no right to control. An in- 
 dividual afflicted with dire despair may iiing 
 himself into a river with the view of ending 
 his life ; it ia the duty of those vrho may ob- 
 serve hioi to rescue him, if they can, and he 
 has no right to resist them. Because, in the 
 first plaee, he is in the commission of a sinful 
 act, and, in the second, it is imposeible for him 
 to foresee what happy change in his destiny 
 may possibly occur. 5Tou are very ycung, 
 Floret too ycung to entertain euch a senti- 
 ment aa hopeless despair too premature in 
 nourishing it before you know that there ia 
 not a path or loophole of escape for you exist- 
 ing. Li. t me repeat that I know something of 
 your hibtory niore than you ean imagine 
 
 more than I believe yoa are yoaradf acquaint- 
 ed with." 
 
 Floret covered her eyes with her trembling 
 fingers, and slowly shook her head. 
 
 44 Listen to me, Floret," he said, gently, but 
 impressively. " You are aware how we met 
 in Trentham Wood. On that occasion, you 
 made the impression on me that you were no 
 common child. Boy as I was, I had heard f 
 that gipaies kidnapped the children of the 
 rich, and brought them up iu obscurity until 
 they were of an age which enabled them to 
 make money of them, either by restoring 
 them to their parents, or by keeping them ig- 
 norant of their real condition, while they ex- 
 torted sums from the person unjustly in pos- 
 session of their property. I concluded, then, 
 that you were the child of some wealthy par- 
 ents, who bad been eo kidnapped, and as such 
 I treasured you in my memory. I was laugh- 
 ed at as being Quixotic when I suggested that 
 you ought to be rescued, and I was reasoned 
 with upon what was termed my folly, for it 
 was suggested to me that, even if my suppo- 
 sition proved correct, the gipdes would refuse 
 to reveal your parentage, and if ib proved in- 
 correct, I should be taking a gipsy child away 
 from ita natural protectors. 
 
 u I was bound to listen and obey ; but 
 neither the ridicule nor the reasoning induced 
 me to change my opinion. I preserved it in 
 eecrefr, under th strange impression that I 
 should someday be the means of your deliv- 
 erance. We met at Ascot races a etrange 
 event happened there, which confirmed me in 
 my opinion ; but I was debarred from interfer- 
 ence, because I believed that you hed been re- 
 covered by your fiiends. Still the belief 
 clung to me that we should meet again, and 
 that I should in som way prove instrumental 
 to your restoration to that position to which, 
 it was my opinion, that you were born. I did 
 meet you again, and placed yen in the care of 
 the Countess of Braekldgh. From her cus- 
 tody you were abstracted by the old villain ia 
 whoee clutches I afterward discovered you, and 
 from whose power I was prevented, through 
 my own hasty indiscretion anci want of proper 
 precaution, from rsecuing you. Although you 
 were borne away, I still feit convinced \bat I 
 should again meet with you, and, owing to 
 the fortunate circumstance of ray dear friend, 
 Hyde Vaughan, having encountered the 
 young lady who was your companion iu Tren- 
 iham Wood here m tue house of an old end 
 valued servant of my father't I mean Mrs. 
 Spencer I have b^en enabled to do eo. AB 
 soon as he quitted here, he communicated with 
 me. I hastened to asstire myself that you 
 were really in this house, and taen I presented 
 myself to the Countess of Brackhigh, who 
 eeema to know very much cf yocr history, 
 who ia deeply interested in your fate, and who 
 asserts, under the impression cf eoaae secret 
 atd important knowledge, that her destiny i a 
 interwoven with yours. It is to represent he^ 
 that I am tere. I have no claim, merely o n 
 account of my interest in 3 our future and m v 
 
HAGAR LOT; 
 
 sympathy with your past lifo aad present po- 
 sition, to appear before yon, to intrude npon 
 your privacy, even to address you ; but as the 
 Delegate of "another person who has a claim 
 upon you, because she ia acquainted with an 
 important eecret which will enable you to as- 
 sert momentous rights, I am justly here to 
 speak wiihyou, and to endeavor to obtain from 
 you an appointment with La3y Brackleigh, 
 which, whatever may be its results to her 
 lady a hip, caanot fail to be to your advan- 
 tage." 
 
 He paused, and remained silent, with the 
 evident object of obtaining from her a reply 
 to his request, which he had rather intimated 
 than put. 
 
 She had been making some strong efforts at 
 composure while he had been speaking, and 
 eo far succeeded, that she was enabled to re- 
 move her hand from before her eyes, and to 
 look steadfastly at him. 
 
 As he gazed upon her colorless face, he was 
 struck more than ever, not only by the exceed- 
 ing beauty of her countenance, but by the sin- 
 gular delicacy and refinement of her Features. 
 Constant exposure to the air, a long period of 
 privation, trouble, and anxiety had failed to 
 rob her exquisitely fair skin of i^s transparen-. 
 cy, or her features of their classic delicacy of 
 form. Lord Victor saw in them a type of his 
 own high-bred class, and though he had 
 enough romance in his composition to urge 
 him to the commission of act? at which the 
 worldly- mifided would sneer, he had enough 
 plain matter-of-fact sense to know that Floret 
 was descended from no common origin, and to 
 see that attrition with the world had purified 
 rather than contaminated her. 
 
 "Whatever might have been the real nature 
 of his feelings toward her previous to this in- 
 terview, that one glance at her fair, sad face 
 -did more to fix her indelibly upn his hear; 
 4h*a aught which haJ ever happened before. 
 
 Floret did not interpret the expression that 
 was slowly passing over hie features as he pe- 
 rused hers ; her mind was too intent upon a 
 resolution to decline the request he had put to 
 her, and how to express it without fastening 
 too much humiliation on herself. 
 
 " I am at a lost to imagine how the destiny 
 of the lady whom you have named can be 
 mixed up with mine, 'she said, slowly andeor- 
 rowfully ; ' I hope for her ske that it is not. 
 I know now I have but recently been put in 
 possession of it as much of my history as it 
 is needful for me to know ; it is enough to 
 make me certain that no change for the better 
 can take place in my position, and that any ef- 
 fort to learn more than I know now will re- 
 sult in further pain to mjself, without improv- 
 ing my situation one iota. My lot hencefor- 
 ward must be lonely obscurity on on te the 
 end. Wih the world I have nothing more in 
 o mm on, save to wring from it the means of 
 sustaining life, nothing more. Of it I have 
 nothing to ask but forgetfulness. For what 
 you have done to serve me, my Lord, I thank 
 you gratefn&y, for your good intentions I am 
 
 likewise most grateful ; and bare, in mercy, let 
 our interview end. You will pity and under- 
 stand, and obey me when I tell you that I 
 am nameless, and that I must remain so to the 
 end." 
 
 She sank half fainting upon a chair as she 
 concluded. 
 
 He bent over her, and in a low tone, and 
 with deep emotion, said : 
 
 " That crime ia not yours. I were unworthy 
 the name I inherit, the form I bear the like- 
 nees of Gol himself, whooe attribute is justice 
 as well as mercj if I did not find in your reve- 
 lation a deeper and a holier claim to my serv- 
 ice than before. I can measure the magnitude 
 of your anguish when you reflect on such a 
 condition as yon mention being yours. If sym- 
 pathy would reach that grief, I would deeply 
 sympathize with you, but it would be ineffec- 
 tual. You are of no common origin, that is 
 palpable to me ; that you should feel such a 
 stigma with more acute agony than some BO 
 unfortunately situated who have smaller claim 
 to look for sr,ern integrity in those who preced- 
 ed them, I can understand ; but what I cannot 
 understand is, that you should assume that you 
 are what you have stated yourself to be, 'un- 
 less you possess information that is wholly in- 
 disputable, which forbids you entertaining 
 hope/' 
 
 " I believe that I do," she said, in a scarcely 
 audible tone. 
 
 " Documentary evidence T' suggested Lord 
 Victor, emphatically. 
 
 " No, I have nothing of that kind," she re- 
 plied, plaintively, "but " 
 
 "I have documentary evidence to prove 
 that you are not nameless !" exclaimed a voice, 
 clearly and impressively. 
 
 Floret raised her eyes, and Lord Victor 
 turned hastily round. 
 
 In the doorwav stood the Countess of Brack- 
 leigh! 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " And suddenly her former eolor changed* .._ 
 And here ana there her eyes through anger ranges; 
 And, like a planet moving several ways, 
 At oce self instant, she, poor soul ! assays 
 Loving, not to lore at all, and every part 
 Strove to resist the motions ef her heart : 
 And bauds so pure, eo innocent, nay, such -.- 
 
 As might have made Heaven stoop to have & touch, 
 Did she uphold." MABLOWB. 
 
 The apparition of the Countess of Brack- 
 leigh in the doorway appeared to startle Lord 
 Victor Trentham as much as it did Floret, and 
 to surprise and confound him even more than 
 it did her. 
 
 The Countess observed, with a furtive glamee, 
 his unequivocal and anything but gratified look 
 of amazement, and the expression of alarm and 
 distress which appeared suddenly upon Flor- 
 et's features. 
 
 With the quickness of thought, the Countess 
 entered the room, closed the door, locked it, 
 and took possession of the key, which she at 
 once placed ia a pocket in her dress. 
 
 Lord Victor's astonishment visibly increased 
 he was evidently annoyed and angry. 
 
OK, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 97 
 
 " Lady Brackleigh," he said, in a grave tone, 
 *< I certainly did not anticipate that you would 
 follow me here ; much less could I have im- 
 agined that you would take euch a strange pro- 
 ceeding as " 
 
 1 The Countess wared her hand impatiently, 
 and, interrupting him, said : 
 
 " You know not, Lord Victor, what vital in 
 terests are at stake. You may have, I ac- 
 knowledge, a suspicion of some part of the 
 truth ; but you cannot have the slightest con- 
 ception of the real and terrible facts involved 
 in the affair in which I am now taking so ac- 
 tive ft participation, or of the magnitude of 
 the result to all the parties concerned in it. 
 To me the issue will be of the gravest charac- 
 ter, and I am, therefore, compelled to take 
 step? which, though they may appear ques- 
 tionable in your eyes, as in the eyes of others, 
 are, nevertheless, in my position, justifiable. 
 Believe me, Lord Victor, I have been most 
 deeply wronged. I cannot yet explain to you 
 how. It must, for the present, suffice that I 
 can imagine no greater personal injury than 
 that which I have received, and I believe it to 
 be irreparable. The denouement of a mystery, 
 in which I have for a dreary period been en- 
 ihrouded, cannot long be deferred. I do not, 
 I cannot expect to be, in a merely worldly 
 point of view, benefited by it. Socially, per- 
 haps, I shall be lowered and pitied I hate to 
 be pitied ; but, Lord Victor, I shall eecure a 
 terrible atonement for a monstrous act of 
 treachery, the victims of which have been my- 
 self and this poor girl," she concluded, point- 
 ing to Floret. 
 
 " I cannot for a moment doubt a word that 
 your ladyship has uttered," rejoined Lord 
 Victor, as she ceased, preserving still his grave 
 tone and manner ; " but you will remember 
 that when'I undertook your mission hither, it 
 was with the understanding that I should exe- 
 cute it entirely after my own discretion; that 
 Floret she will pardon my familiar use of her 
 name should neither be startled, worried, co- 
 erced into taking any course which might be 
 opposed to her inclination ; that she should be 
 free to act as she might wish, and that, should 
 she desire to remain in undisturbed and se- 
 cluded retirement, an unqualified deference 
 should be paid to her resolve As I was to be 
 the medium through whom you preferred your 
 proposition, so it was arranged I was to be the 
 Dearer to you of Floret's decision." 
 
 " I admit, Lord Victor, that I consented to 
 the arrangement," returned Lady Braekleigh, 
 quickly ; " but it was because I had no alter- 
 native. You told me that you had discovered 
 the residence of the young girl who had been 
 kidnapped from those to whose charge I had 
 intrueted her at Eeigate; but you declined to 
 tell m^ where that residence was to be found 
 You, Lord Victor, certainly offered to bear 
 from me a communication to the young, sad- 
 ly u: : ed fcirl; but you fashioned it yourself. 
 You objected to this ; you declined to repeat 
 th<it ; you, in short, placed yourself in my po- 
 ition, and decided to say what you deemed to 
 
 be moat proper not what my judgment told 
 me was essential. I bowed to you ; I permit- 
 ted you to have your own way, because I fore- 
 saw that ii was the only way to obtain mine. 
 You had acquainted me thoughtlessly, no 
 doubt with the hour at which you should 
 seek an interview with this young girl. 1 
 watched you from your house ; I followed you ; 
 I am here ; I have overheard your conversa- 
 tion ; I am in possession of this poor child's 
 impression respecting her parentage, and I in- 
 terfered at the moment I thought to be the 
 most favorable to her interests and to my own. 
 It is necessary to dispel from her mind a be- 
 lief which, if she is permitted to cherish it, 
 will paralyze her action. It is essential to her 
 fame, name, honor, that she should act ; but 
 she cannot do it as you have found her, ag 
 you would leave her, withi a crushing horror 
 upon, her brain with a frozen heart, I am 
 here to remove that cloud from her brow to 
 bring back warm life-blood to her heart to 
 tear from her soul that taint which ehe deems 
 the murkiest that can soil and stain her fair 
 fame to lift her, indeed, from the sepulchre 
 of ruined hopes into the sunshine of a bril- 
 liant future. To accomplish this to her, in 
 all likelihood, a seemingly impossible feat I 
 must have an interview with her alone. 1 
 must beg this of your courtesy, my lord, and 
 of our yoncg friend's good sense." 
 
 L'idy Brackleigh paused for an answer, for, 
 somewhat bewildered by her observations, he 
 remained silent when she ceased speaking. 
 Presently, however, he said : 
 
 " In describing the part 1 have taken, Lady 
 Brackleigh, you have act exaggerated the 
 truth. I, however, adopted the course I pur- 
 sued from a conviction that, if women in eomt 
 transactions of their lives consider conse- 
 quences, they never do in revenge. You hare 
 declared yourself to be greatly wronged ?" 
 
 "Most foully; most atrociously," she re- 
 sponded, emphatically. 
 
 ' And you are striving after revenge ?" he 
 s\ibj <->ined. 
 
 "I admit it," she answered, with excite- 
 ment ; " an ample, full, complete revenge," 
 
 "Lady Brackleigh," he returned, quickly 
 and impressively, as he pointed to Floret; 
 " surely this young lady has endured enough 
 of trial and vicissitude, difficulty, danger, and 
 misery, to save her from being subjected even 
 to the chance of farther suffering. In striving 
 after your own aims, Lady Brackleigh, you 
 should remember " 
 
 " That I shall have a companion who has 
 been as deeply wronged, and who has suffered 
 even more than myself," she abruptly inter- 
 posed " I shall noc forget it I am not likely 
 to forget it. She has no need to fear the fu- 
 ture. Even if she does incur some rebuffs, 
 even if ehe should have to endure further 
 struggles, her reward must come ; mine can 
 only be to bury myself in seclusion from that 
 world into which she will enter a bright star, 
 the object of wonder and of admiration. A 
 world wJtiich, while it showers upon her happi- 
 
98 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 ness, will consign me to pining oblivion. You 
 have no occasion to be under any alarm for Flor- 
 et, Lord Victor ; as I can achieve nothing with- 
 out her, so must I, even if I had not the in- 
 clination, be as tender of her as though she 
 were some near and dear connection of my 
 own, with whom my existence was bound up, 
 whose death would be fatal to every hope of 
 future peace nourished in my breast." 
 
 " "Why take, then, the extraordinary step, 
 Lady Brackleigh, on entering the room, of 
 closing the door behind you, locking it, and 
 securing the key?" asked Lord Victor, who 
 seemed not to be satisfied with Lady Brack- 
 leigh's explanation. 
 
 " I will be frank with you, my Lord," re- 
 turned the Countess, readily. " From what 
 fell from the lips of this young, persecuted 
 creature here, I gathered that she was weary 
 of discussions upon her origin nay, that she 
 shrank from them with aversion, with loath- 
 ing, and with a painful sense of humiliation. 
 I suspected that as soon as her eyes fell upon 
 me she would fly me. Not from fear of me, 
 nor from hatred, but having formed a convic- 
 tion, which I shall prove to her to be errone- 
 ous, she would naturally be averse to reopen a 
 subject, the only seeming result of which would 
 be to add anguish to the affliction she has al- 
 ready been compelled to endure, and would, 
 therefore, take the readiest way of preventing 
 it by avoiding me. To insure her attention to 
 what I have to communicate to her, I have 
 locked the door, and I hold the key. I assure 
 her before you, my Lord, that what I shall re- 
 veal to her will not add to her anguish, but 
 that it will dissipate it that if happiness can 
 be brought to a heart which, perhaps, hitherto 
 has never known it, I shall place it there ; and 
 I now ask of her to grant me a private inter- 
 view at once, and I pledge to her my faith 
 the faith of one who has never violated her 
 word that, if at the close of the interview 
 which I now solicit she determines to continue 
 the course which, prior to seeing me to-day, 
 she has marked out for herself to pursue, I 
 will no further interfere with her, but, on the 
 contrary, do what lies in my power to aid her 
 in carrying out her wishes." 
 
 The Countess ceased speaking ; and Lord 
 Vbtor, who had watched her countenance 
 closely during her speech, turned to Floret to 
 hear what she had to reply. 
 
 The poor girl, disturbed and distressed by 
 those frequent references to her birth and her 
 condition before Lord Victor, and even by 
 him, sat with her face covered with her hands. 
 Her skin was whiter than snow ; there might 
 have been, now and then, a crimson flushing, 
 but at no time did it last more than a second. 
 Her pride was sorely tried. Under most cir- 
 cumstances she would have felt much at such 
 a discussion, but, before Lord Victor, it was 
 painfully humiliating. 
 
 It was her secret and dearest wish a dream, 
 a passionate day-dream U shine in his eyes 
 "one entire and perfect crysolite". It had 
 been her fate to be seen and known by him aa 
 
 a poor girl always a poor girl ; and now she 
 had to bear the humiliation of appearing be- 
 fore him of even acknowledging to him that 
 she was of a tainted origin. 
 
 She could not but believe that these discov- 
 eries by him would be subversive of all in- 
 terest he might ever have felt in her fate, and 
 that, when he that day parted from her, it 
 would be not only for ever, but to forget, &a 
 soon as she was shut from his eyes, that she 
 had ever lived. 
 
 She was unacquainted with the nature of a 
 true man; certainly with euch a nature aa 
 that possessed by Lord Victor. He had been 
 struck by her singular beauty when he had 
 met her in the wood, and when she, in grati 
 tude for his timely interference in her behatf, 
 presented to him the bouquet she had ar- 
 ranged. How much, indeed, Mrs. Spencer'a 
 anecdote had revealed ! His admiration of her 
 charms had been heightened when he saw her 
 in her blue cotton frock and tawdry wreath at 
 Ascot ; and it was yet farther increased when 
 he encountered her, neatly dressed, near to 
 Hyde Park, and he first introduced her to the 
 notice of the Countess of Brackleigh. 
 
 The circumstances under which they had 
 met had also greatly interested him, and many 
 times when at college, especially when alone 
 at night with his thoughts, her sweet, fair face 
 would recur to him, her softly-beaming, deep 
 blue eyes would shine upon him, and he 
 would note the silent eloquence in them, 
 which was more powerful than any words she 
 might have used, as she tendered him again, 
 in imagination, her simple offering. He 
 would remember, too, with a species of mar- 
 veling wonder, the scornful expression of re- 
 sentment which appeared upon her still 
 young and beautiful face, when, by the side of 
 Lady Brackleigh's carriage, she reminded him 
 that he had given her money, and treated her 
 as a beggar I when he could only know her 
 as such, and nothing else. He remembered 
 her far more frequently than she, even in her 
 most hopeful and dreamy moments, could 
 have believed possible ; and he did so with- . 
 out asking himself what was the nature of that 
 influence which could so often bring her ex- -. 
 quisitely-formed features before Ms admiring 
 vision. * 
 
 Certainly, when he encountered her in the 
 wood, in the hands of the gipsies, her in- 
 creased height and age had the effect of aseur-. 
 ing him that the bud had given no promise 
 the blossom would not realize. She was thin 
 and delicate in appearance, and was clothed: 
 in faded habiliments ; but she was still most 
 beautiful in countenance, and queenly in her, 
 bearing, and her voice, though plaintive in 
 tone, was as melodious as it had ever been. 
 
 He thought of her yet more frequently afterj 
 that event; and now that he beheld her, 
 neatly and tastefully attired, and though sad 
 in countenance, still greatly improved in her] 
 healthful appearance, the interest he hadj 
 taken in her all along was not likely to 
 diminish. 
 
OB, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIEL. 
 
 No not likely to diminish, after he had 
 witnessed her bitter tears, and listened to her 
 passionate sobbing, observed her deep dis- 
 tress, and felt his whole soul moved to pity for 
 her that pity which is not derogatory to the 
 object, but which is the sentiment nearest 
 allied to love. 
 
 No ; Floret had small occasion to fear that 
 she would be forsaken and forgotten to Lord 
 Victor. Hers was not the position in the 
 heart of a true man which was calculated to 
 make hjm careless whether he ever saw her 
 more, or which would cause him to forget her 
 as if she had never been. 
 
 Lord Victor, while the Countess was ad- 
 dressing him, regarded Floret with tender in- 
 terest, and, bending over her, said, in a gentle 
 tone, yet one which was so modulated as to in- 
 duce her to have confidence in him : 
 
 " You have heard what the Countess has 
 said, Floret; you have heard her express a 
 wish to be closeted with you alone. Are you 
 prepared to accede to it ? or do you desire to 
 decline the proposition ? Speak freely and 
 frankly believe me, your wishes will be re- 
 spected." 
 
 He laid so peculiar an emphasis upon the 
 last three words, that Floret was fain to look 
 up gratefully to him. 
 
 She rose up from the chair upon which she 
 had been seated, and, addressing him, said : 
 
 " My lord, I thank you deeply for the in- 
 terest you evince in my unhappy condition, 
 and for the kind consideration you have 
 shown for my feelings feelings which have 
 been so often and so acutely lacerated. I had 
 hoped, by burying myself in obscurity, to end 
 all the woes and suffering which have attended 
 me from my birth, until my life ended a term 
 which could not, to meet my yearning desire, 
 be too brief; but it is not to be, and I must 
 yield to a power I cannot control. My grati- 
 tude to your lordship is not the less deep be- 
 cause you have not accomplished what I have 
 earnestly wished." 
 
 p She bowed low to him, but did not trust her 
 eyes to gaze upon his face. She turned them 
 npon the Countess : 
 
 * " Your ladyship requests mo to speak with 
 you alone 1" she exclaimed, in an undertone, 
 which trembled slightly in its intonation ; 
 and you urge me to assent, by suggestions 
 which can hardly fail to have weight with me, 
 although I fear you. are deceiving yourself 
 twith regard to the result." 
 I " Indeed, Floret, you will find that I am 
 not," interpolated the Countess, with emphasis, 
 j " If I had hope, I should hope that you 
 prognosticate truly," she continued ; " but I 
 have lost hope, and can expect no gleam of 
 sunshine in my dark fate. Nevertheless, from 
 the intimations which you have given, I feel 
 it to be my duty to listen to you. I am eager 
 to know all that I can learn respecting my un- 
 fortunate history. I do not think any addi- 
 Jtional particulars, however unpleasant in 
 |hernaelves, can add to my burden ; and there 
 .may be some that may tend, at ft future period, 
 
 to soften reflections which, without them, 
 would be indescribably bitter." i 
 
 " Then for the present I leare yon," said 
 Lord Victor, promptly addressing her, as she 
 concluded ; u but I hope to see you again, and 
 that ere long to see you, Floret, under 
 brighter auspices, and in the direct road to 
 that brilliant happiness which Lady Brack- 
 leigh has so agreeably foreshadowed." 
 
 He bowed to her, and she bent to him ; she 
 did not raise her eyes she dared not. She 
 thought, perhaps, that he might tender her 
 his hand; she felt that hers would tremble 
 when it touched his ; but he did not offer it, 
 and, with a suppressed sigh, she stood motion- 
 less, with her eyes bent upon the ground. 
 
 "Lady Brackleigh," he added, "I shall 
 await you in tha apartment of Mrs. Spencer, 
 at the bottom of the house, in order that I 
 may attend your ladyship to your carriage." 
 
 " It is not here, Lord Victor," she replied ; 
 "but I shall be thankful for your escort 
 home." ; 
 
 " I shall be at your ladyship's service," he 
 rejoined ; and, so saying, he quitted the room, 
 leaving, as it seemed to Floret, a dull and 
 heavy gloom behind him. 
 
 She could not tell whether he gazed upon 
 her as he left. She heard the door unlock ; 
 she heard it closed and relocked. She heard 
 the sweep of a silk dress, and she saw its 
 flounced folds trailing the floor close to her 
 o<7n ! but she saw not what she would have 
 given a world to see as it departed from her 
 the face of Lord Victor. Instead of it, she 
 saw that of Lady Brackleigh. 
 
 She started as she now gazed steadfastly at 
 it. She had not forgotten it, although she 
 was very ill when she first, and even last, be- 
 held ic, and three long wearisome years had 
 since then passed away. She saw a terrible 
 change in it. It was pale, thin, and furrowed 
 care of the most desolating kind was stamp*. 
 ed upon it. In the set of the brows, the eye- 
 lids, the corners of the mouth, there was only 
 grief. Not a trace of a smile lurking there 
 could be detected, and it seemed that nothing 
 imaginable ceuld bring it out of there. 
 
 Floret perceived that she was not alone a 
 sufferer, and that high station afforded no ex- 
 emption from human misery. 
 
 The alteration in Lady Brackleigh's face, 
 and the attendant reflection, made her more 
 disposed to listen needfully and with interest 
 to what she had to say. It was apparent that 
 in some way the Countess's history was mix- 
 ed up with her own, and that she had, as 
 all other persons had who bad been in any 
 way connected with her, suffered deeply in 
 consequence. 
 
 The Countess, however, gave her no time to 
 ruminate. She caught her by the wrist, and, 
 with flashing eyes, said 
 
 " Floret, you have admitted that you are 
 acquainted with the particulars of your origin. 
 What are they ? Kepeat them to me." 
 
 Floret for an instant was startled and. sur- 
 prised. By a sudden movement she wrested 
 
100 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 her hand from the clutch of the Countefw and 
 said, almost haughtily : 
 
 " This is an abrupt request for which your 
 ladyship has not prepared me. It surely can- 
 not be the single objoct of your ladyship in 
 effecting this interview to seek from me a reve- 
 lation which it is my first wish to keep con- 
 oealed within the depths of my own bosom. 
 If this be not the sole purpose of your lady- 
 ship's presence here, I request you to submit 
 to me such other motives as may have induc- 
 ed you to visit me ; but if it be your only rea- 
 son, I must beg of your ladyship to spare me 
 the pain of replying to it." 
 
 ** Girl, you know not what I have suffered 
 what I do suffer," exclaimed the Countess, 
 wildly; "you know but a tithe of the truth at 
 which you would arrive at which you must 
 arrive, or perish a namele:s creature. I must 
 conquer all the truth, not to win a brighter 
 name and unalloyed happiness, but to end a 
 torture which is rapidly slaying me, and win 
 a convent and a grave." 
 
 She paused, and wept passionately. 
 
 Then flinging back her head, and dashing 
 away with an impatient hand her tears, she 
 Continued 
 
 " Has it not occurred to you, that I have a 
 story to reveal to you ? Have the questions 
 not presented themselves to you ' Why does 
 ehe seek me ? What can my unhappy history 
 be to her? Can I be connected with her un- 
 happiness ? if so, how, in what manner, and 
 under what circumstances ? Can the relatives 
 to whom I am allied be connected with her ? 
 In what relation can she stand to be, and I to 
 her?" 
 
 Floret interrupted her vith a sudden coarse 
 Bcream. She placed both hands upon her 
 heart, and recoiled half a dozen steps : her 
 face became a ghastly white, and her lips livid. 
 She looked as if she would fall lifeless upon 
 the ground. 
 
 The Countess, excitei as she was, perceived 
 Floret's sudden and terrible agitation with 
 amazement, and then a thought flashed 
 through her mind, and a strange, vindictive 
 emile for a moment moved her lips. 
 
 She advanced to Floret, and said, as she 
 raised her hand with a deprecating gesture : 
 
 "Calm your agitation. I am not she for 
 whom you take me. Your filial instinct is in 
 error if it turned even for an instant to me. 
 My words have misled you. No, when you 
 seek for your mother, look first in your glass, 
 peruse well the features which will be there 
 presented to you, examine them well, scrutinize 
 each feature, fasten them upon your memory, 
 and when you go in search of the woman who 
 bore you, and find a face which closely resem- 
 bles that which you have studied in the glass, 
 you may say to yourself, * I have found her.' 
 Then fling your arms fondly about her neck, 
 and rent your head upon her bosom if you 
 can !" Floret sighed deeply, and turned her 
 head away. 
 
 " It had been better I had never been born," 
 ehe exclaimed, bitterly. 
 
 " Better that she who bore you had died ere 
 she gave you birth," cried the Countess, stern- 
 ly. ' I, at least, should have been spared a 
 broken heart." 
 
 The frown which rested on her brow, when 
 she uttered those words, passed away as her 
 eye fell upon Floret's face ; it was so wobegone 
 and despairing that it made her heart ache to 
 look upon it. 
 
 She sighed, too, and then said : 
 
 " Floret, child, it will not do for you and 
 me to act otherwise than in concert ; we have 
 both an aim to achieve, which can scarcely be 
 accomplished unless we act in unison. I shall 
 have no reserve with you ; you must have 
 none with me. We are traveling to the same 
 end : we must do it with one mind, one intel- 
 ligence, and without concealments. I, who 
 know your history or, at least, have become 
 mistress of much of it marvel how you could 
 have learned it. The source from whence you 
 have derived your information is unknown to 
 me, therefore I desire to learn how much has 
 been communicated to you, and wno was your 
 informant. My motive is this. I shall hear 
 how much of the truth has been told to you, 
 how much kept back. I shall hear who reveal- 
 ed to you your history, and shall be able to 
 judge the motive with which it has been im- 
 parted to you. Speak, Floret, openly and 
 truthfully, for I again repeat I shall be able to 
 disabuse your mind of a grievous error which 
 it is nursing, and place hope back in the seat 
 from whence you believe that it has departed 
 for ever." 
 
 Floret gazed at her wistfully, earnestly, and 
 with an expression of distress on her counte- 
 nance. 
 
 "What shall I do?" ehe murmured, with 
 painful embarrassment. " This perplexity is 
 new to me. I am rarely in doubt as to the 
 course I should pursue, yet I know not what 
 ..o do. To refuse to take part with you seems 
 to be the ringing of the death-knell to my 
 dearest hopes. Yet if I league with you I 
 shall be conspiring against those whom nature 
 tells me I ought to uphold and defend." 
 
 " Nature sometimes eets us strange tasks," 
 responded Lady Brac^leigh. "It is not al- 
 ways wise or prudent to follow her teachings. 
 However, let me relieve your mind of a fear 
 that I shall desire you to conspire or scheme 
 against any one, even those who have most in- 
 uoed you, I shall require nothing of the kind. 
 I wish you only to help me to establish your 
 claim to an honorable name, though worn by 
 a. Well, it will not become me to call 
 names, I must prove them. A coronet may 
 sit upon a smirched brow, I leave the world 
 to lurriieh the proper epithets. Do you un- 
 derstand me better now, Floret ?" 
 
 " I think I do," she replied, musingly, "and 
 will answer to your first question. My knowl- 
 edge of my origin may be comprised in a few 
 words. I have been told that I am the off- 
 spring of shame of one who loved fondly, 
 and trusted too confidingly to a heartless man* 
 That my mother was high born, but not there- 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 101 
 
 foro exempt from the evils of temptation which 
 surround the humbler members ol her sex. 
 As I was brought into the world in secret, so 
 I was immediately sent inte obscurity, was 
 yeared first in a Tillage, and was afterward 
 kidnapped by gipsies. I have lived since 
 then a life of strange vicissitudes, with come 
 of which you have been acquainted. That is 
 my whole history !" 
 
 'The Countess listened to her attentively, 
 and gazed fixedly at her for a minute after she 
 censed speaking. 
 
 At length she said, slowly : 
 
 "And that is all?" 
 
 Floret bowed her head in silent assent. 
 
 " Who communicated to you this story ?" 
 inquired the countess. 
 
 41 flsgar Lot !" replied Floret. 
 
 "Who?" ejaculated the Countess, with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 Floret repeated the name briefly. 
 
 "Who is ehe?" aeked the Countess, quickly. 
 
 " A gipey !" returned Floret. " She it was 
 who took me from Beachborough, and placed 
 me with the old gipsy who made me sell flow- 
 ers for a living. It was ehe who removed me 
 from him, and placed me at a school in York- 
 shire ; and who, in short, acknowledged to me 
 that she was an agent of of my " 
 
 The word seemed to choke her in its way to 
 utterance, and she turned her face aside, leav- 
 ing the word unsaid. 
 
 "I understand you," observed the Countess, 
 thoughtfully. " The woman was the agent of 
 your mother. Yet this is strange I was in 
 formed that her name was Shelley, and that 
 she was found" 
 
 Floret raised her hands deprecatingly. 
 
 "Do not speak of her," she said, hurriedly 
 and excitedly. " Her death rests like a burden 
 upon my shoulders, although I was innocent 
 of it yet, had I not been born, she would 
 have been living now. She was my first nurse ; 
 it was Hagar Lot who stole me from the care 
 of those to whom she left me a miserable leg- 
 acy." 
 
 " This is something new," muttered the 
 Countess ; " I muat see this gipsy." 
 
 Then raising her voice, she inquired : 
 
 " Do you know how to find her, Floret?" 
 
 Floret shuddered slightly, and repl ed : 
 
 " I do not. I do not wish to know. She 
 gave me the opportunity of commumcating 
 with her, but I refused her offer with seorn 
 and loathing." 
 
 " I can believe you," replied the Countess. 
 41 Yet it will be essential to me to discover her, 
 and I will," 
 
 She paused for a moment, and the she ob- 
 served, almost abruptly : 
 
 " Did she communicate to you the name of 
 your mother?" 
 
 Floret gasped for breath. 
 
 She made, however, aii effort, and control- 
 ing her emotion, replied : 
 
 * I requested her to reveal it to me, but she 
 declined." 
 
 " Why ! asked the Countwe. 
 
 " She expressed a fear that I desired to 
 know it in order that I might curse her," re- 
 turned Floret, with a sudden flush upon her 
 forehead ; " but" ; 
 
 "She measured your nature by her own, 
 doubtless," interposed the Countess. "Pray, 
 did she betray the same relectance to mention 
 the name of your father, Floret?" 
 
 Floret let fall her eyelids. This cross-exam* 
 ination was very painful to her, but she made 
 an effort, and answered, excitedly : 
 
 " I declined to hear it. Lady Brackleigh, 
 what to me was his name, or the name of the 
 mother who bore me? They had fastened 
 upon me an inheritance of shame, and doomed 
 me to a life of obscurity. It would surely be- 
 better that I should not know a name, to hear 
 which would pierce my heart eac'o. time it waa 
 mentioned a name which I should never bear, 
 or bearing, loathe. No, Lady Brackleigb, I 
 revealed to you all that I knew in the first few 
 sentences which I uttered resDecting my life, 
 and I have no more to tell. You only need* 
 lessly and profitlcssly probe my heart, when 
 you desire to extract that which I do not 
 possess, and cannot, therefore, communicate." 
 
 " I will not at present press you further," 
 said the Countess ; " but I will proceed to 
 place your history in a new light. You are 
 the daughter of a Marchioness!" she ex 
 claimed, with an abrupt emphasis. 
 
 A painful expression, but not one of BU? 
 prise, crossed Floret's features. 
 
 " Hagar Lot told me so," she said. 
 
 11 And that your father was an Earl ?" added 
 the Countess, with a strange, low, hoarso 
 screech. 
 
 Floret looked at her with wonder. 
 
 " She did," she replied. 
 
 The Countess gaped twice or thrice. 
 
 " This confirms it !" she exclaimed ; and, 
 clasping her hands to her temples, she sank 
 upon a chair. / 
 
 Floret approached her, but she waved her 
 impatiently away. 
 
 " Do not come near me !" ehe exclaimed, 
 agitatedly ; " I must wrestle with this spasm 
 alone." 
 
 She bowed her face in her hands, and benfc 
 her head down low. She rocked her body to 
 and fro for a minute or so, evidently in ex- 
 treme pain, and thea rose up and paced the 
 apartment with rapid and disordered steps. 
 
 Presently, she paused abruptly, and said: 
 
 " The woman this gipsy this agent of 
 whom you have spoken, did not communicate 
 to you the name of your mother?" , 
 
 " She did not," replied Floret. 
 
 " Nor of him your father?" she continued, 
 in a species of convulsive emotion. i 
 
 " She did not," repeated Floret. 
 
 " She only said that your mother loved and 
 trusted, and that your father was a scoundrel I" 
 pursued the Countess, between her teeth. 
 
 Floret bowed her head assentingly. 
 
 " She lied !" cried the Countess, between her 
 teeth. Floret started, and gazed upon her with 
 eager amazement 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 She lied !'* continuod the Countess, speak- 
 ing rapidly, "knowingly, or because even 
 he *as deceived by her employer. Your 
 mother might have been an artless girl at the 
 age of sixteen ; but she was not so weak and 
 guileless not so trusting, as to yield herself 
 up to the man she loved, until he had first ac- 
 companied her to church, and placed, before 
 an ordained priest, a wedding-ring upon her 
 
 Floret clutched at the Countess's wrist wild- 
 ly, and tried two or three times to speak, but 
 not a sound came from her parted, ashen lips. 
 
 " I tell TOU, girl, that what I say is true, and 
 can be proved ; but that the proofs will be at- 
 tended with some little difficulty I" exclaimed 
 the Countess, with excitement. " But it shall 
 be done, though my heart be crumbled to dust 
 it shall be done ! You, Floret, are the off- 
 spring of a secret marriage. You are legiti- 
 mately borne, and you may, with a proud ges- 
 ture, now dash away from your cheek the 
 blush of shame which has only too frequently 
 mantled there/' 
 
 Floret pressed her temples with both her 
 hands. The apartment seemed to reel round 
 her. The daughter of a Marchioness the 
 daughter of an Earl and legitimately born 
 the intelligence appeared to be too good, too 
 overwhelmingly blissful to be true. 
 
 Then a shade passed over her expressive 
 features. 
 
 " Tell me, Lady Brackleigh, were my par- 
 ents under age when they were married r" she 
 asked, with intense eagerness. 
 
 " One certainly was : the Earl was probably 
 a minor, also," the Countess replied, inquiring 
 also why she put the question. 
 
 "I have heard," said Floret, tremblingly, 
 " that when such marriages are made without 
 the consent of the parents, they can be an- 
 nulled. Is it so ?" 
 
 "If proceedings were taken while the mar- 
 ried pair were minors, it might be done, but 
 not without extreme difficulty," returned the 
 Countess ; " but nothing of the sort was done 
 in this case. The marriage was clandestine, 
 and has been kept a close secret ever since." 
 
 "Yet you have discovered it ?" said Floret, 
 in an inquiring tone. 
 
 " I have," rejoined the Countess, with bit- 
 terness. " It was fitting that I should ; it con- 
 cerned me deeply. Secrets sneak out of strange 
 loopholes. I gained my infermation by sin- 
 gular means ; I shall work out my long-cher- 
 ished aim by means equally strange, yet terri- 
 bly sure." 
 
 ' As I have heard one version of my birth, 
 and you have furnished me with another, how 
 shall I be convinced which is the true one ?" 
 observed Floret, with a thoughtful and some- 
 what perplexed air. 
 
 " Do you place my word by the side of that 
 of a gipsy, and hesitate which to credit?" 
 asked the Countess, haughtily and reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 " O Lady Brackleigh, I only desire to be ns- 
 sured that your version is, as I wish it to be, 
 
 the correct ono," said Floret, with emotion. 
 " Hagar Lot was the agent of " 
 
 " A paid agent of one to whom the discov- 
 ery of your birth by others would be a heavy 
 blow," replied the Countess, quickly. " She 
 had a motive in deceiving you ; she read your 
 character correctly : she knew it would keep 
 you quiet. But stJ you had only her bare 
 word in support of ner assertion. I will give 
 you a written proof." 
 
 " A document !" murmured Floret, mechan- 
 ically. 
 
 "A copy of the certificate of your mother's 
 marriage with your father!" exclaimed the 
 Countess, slowly and emphatically. " A mar- 
 riage which never has, and never can, be set 
 aside. Will you see it ?" 
 
 " Though I knew that death would fellow 
 the sight, I would see it !" exclaimed Floret, 
 with covulsive emotion. 
 
 The Countess passed her hands across her 
 eyes, and passed one of them upon her heart. 
 
 " It shall be so !" she muttered, inwardly. 
 " He shall see ber, and before me. I will watch 
 every change in his countenance when his eyes 
 fall first upon his unacknowledged child." 
 
 Then, with a deep breath, she turned her 
 face to Floret, and said : 
 
 " I have it locked up in a desk in my own 
 private boudoir at Brackleigh House. " Will 
 you accompany me thither, and I will show it 
 to you?" 
 
 " I will," said Floret, promptly* 
 
 " Now ?" asked the Countess. 
 
 " This moment," returned Floret. 
 
 " Attire yourself, and we will depart instant- 
 ly," said the Countess. 
 
 Floret hastened to her chamber to put on 
 her shawl and bonnet, and the Countess, as she 
 looked after her, murmured : 
 
 " The plot thickens the end drars near- 
 and then rest rest ! When will this weary 
 heart know rest ?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " 'Tis an awful thing 
 
 To touch such mischief as I now conceive. 
 So men sit shivering on the dewy bank, 
 And try the chill stream with their feet ; once in ' ' 
 
 SHEUJII. 
 
 Three years elapsed between the departure 
 of the Marquis and the Marchioness of West- 
 Chester from England and their return. In 
 that period, how much had happened to re- 
 lieve Constance Marchioness of Westchester 
 from the fear of being subjected to an indict- 
 ment for bigamy, and how much to confirm 
 her apprehensions that such must be her fate 
 at last? 
 
 As we hare seen, she, with a reckless daring, 
 which in some instances she unhesitatingly 
 displayed, gave to the Marquis the alternative 
 of parting from her forever, if he declined to 
 accept her proposition to go abroad. He de- 
 cided not to part with her, and they went 
 abroad. 
 
 Her impression was that her secret depart- 
 ure from London would relieve her, not 
 
but from the persecution of 
 Bertram, Earl of Brackleigh. 
 
 She still loved the man. For his character 
 she entertained the profoundest contempt ; but 
 he still wielded a fascination over the weaker 
 part of her nature, which it cost her a mighty 
 and a constant struggle to forget. 
 
 This was not an anomaly alone in the char- 
 acter of Constance, it is common to woman. 
 There is this peculiarity in the love of woman, 
 that she loves a man for himself. She might 
 be wrought up to a pitch of adoration if he 
 possessed all the attributes which ennoble his 
 aex ; but if in some plausible guise he wins her 
 love, she will lore him still, even after having 
 discovered him to be an unworthy scoundrel. 
 His character is to her a thing apart, and when 
 once she has yielded up her heart to him, 
 though seas may divide them and years part 
 them, the influence he once possessed, if it lie 
 dormant, is never wholly destroyed. 
 
 Constance had loved Bertram with the full, 
 gushing, passionate love of a young girl of aa 
 ardent, willful temperament. She had loved 
 him without reserve, and had married him in 
 defiance of consequences. "When his love be- 
 came passive in its character, she began to 
 fancy herself slighted; her pride took tte 
 alarm her pride for the time overrode her 
 love, and we know the result. 
 
 So long as he did not cross her path, her lip 
 curled with disdainful scorn when she thought 
 of him : yet her cheek flushed, her bosom 
 heaved, and an unbidden wish that they had 
 never parted would form itself, and disturb her 
 forced calmness more than she liked to silently 
 confess. 
 
 Even though she quitted London to avoid 
 him, and she had made an inward resolve to 
 forget him if she could, his form would obtrude 
 itself upon her vision, and a secret urging in 
 his favor would, in spite of her efforts to chase 
 it away, torment her, only too frequently. 
 
 She arrived with the Marquis in Paris, and 
 they immediately plunged into a round of 
 gayety. They had the entree to the highest 
 circles, and they, apparently by tacit consent 
 for their movements were never submitted 
 to each other attended a soiree, ball, or break- 
 fast a la fourchette, to which they received in- 
 vitations. 
 
 By a kind of tacit agreement, they avoided 
 being alone together. The Marquis, with a 
 horrible suspicion pressing up on his brain, felt 
 that he could not sit alone with her and not 
 revert to what had happened. He knew that 
 if he did so he should draw down upon him- 
 self words of ecorn and insult, at which his 
 pride would revolt, and lie should obtain no 
 satisfaction. He would have been content with 
 her Bolemn assurance that he had no just cause 
 for his suspicions ; but she had always refu*d 
 to enter upon the subjee* at all, invited him to 
 think as he pleased, and never hesitated to ex- 
 press her readiness to separate from him, if he 
 felt dissatisfied with the wretched incertitude 
 in which ne had been placed by his apprehen- 
 eions that her conduct before they were mar- 
 
 OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 108 
 
 ried had not been so circumspect as, in her 
 high position, it should have been. 
 
 The Marchioness did not let the world per* 
 ceive that she had an undying worm ever 
 gnawing at her heart. Her eye was bright, 
 her complexion dazzlingly fair, her cheek 
 round, and her step springy, though proad. 
 
 She was only pale -very pale. 
 
 The shrewdest of her own sex decided that 
 she had a concealed love preying npoo her 
 mind. Men said that she was proud, haughty, 
 and of a nature which had no love in its com- 
 position. An iceberg, indeed, in the shape of 
 an exquiaitely-formed woman. 
 
 She was indeed, an iceberg to them. A few, 
 who believed that they had claims to flirt with 
 an Empress, approached her, flattered her, 
 courted her, intimated that they were dazzled 
 by her beauty, and were her slaves. They 
 could advance no farther the look of immeas- 
 urable scorn, the freezing contempt with which 
 she responded to such addresses, placed them 
 hors de combat inatanter. 
 
 It became a by- word in the high circles in 
 which they moved, that the man who bent a 
 look of loving admiration upon the lovely 
 Marchioness of Westchester was immediately 
 buried beneath an avalanche of snow. 
 
 At one of the most brilliant fetes given at 
 the Tuileries, the Marquis of Westchester hap- . 
 pened, for a few minutes, to be promenading 
 by the side of the Marchioness. 
 
 They came suddenly face to face tfith the 
 Earl and Countess of Brackleigh. 
 
 It was a strange encounter. 
 
 The two men instantly recognized each 
 other, and the flashing look which passed be- 
 tween them was such as is given by men who 
 thirst for each other's lives, and will be satis- 
 fied with no less. ' 
 
 The Countess of Brackleigh gazed into the 
 eyes of the Marchioness with the fiery expres- 
 sion of a woman who, knowing that she has 
 been wronged, beholds the guilty creature be- 
 fore her. The Marchioness returned her glance 
 with one of ineffable disdain. 
 
 The meeting, the recognition, the glances 
 were but the work of a moment ; they passed 
 on, and were speedily divided by a huge crowd 
 of magnificently-attired men and women. ) 
 
 " Westchester!" exclaimed the Marchioness, 
 within a minute afterward, calmly, but with 
 determination ; " oblige me by ordering my 
 carriage. I shall return instantly ts the hotel. 
 I shall leave Paris to-morrow, for Italy." 
 
 He glanced furtively at her. He understood 
 her meaning. He hastened to comply with 
 her wish, and returned almost immediately to 
 say that her carriage awaited her. 
 
 They descended the stairs together ; the? 
 waited side by side for a short time in silence, 
 until the vehicle was announced. The Mar- 
 chioness entered it ; he followed her. They 
 rode home together alone, and still in silence. 
 
 By dawn, the Marquis was astir, and when 
 the Marchioness made her appearance, the car- 
 riages, couriers, servants, etc., necessary for 
 the journey, were ready for departure. 
 
104 
 
 HAGAE LOT;, 
 
 They proceeded by forced stages to Italy. 
 They paused not until they reached Borne. 
 Here they remained for some period, pursuing 
 the eame restless course of pleasure, and pass- 
 ing the same unsatisfactory kind of existence 
 as in Paris. 
 
 The Marchioness . never walked out alone 
 she always rode in a close carriage, un- 
 less when accompanied by the Marquis, 
 which was seldom. She declined all invita- 
 tions to parties, unless he would be sure to be 
 present. 
 
 And yet, at a grand reception given by the 
 Cardinal Minister, she found herself separated 
 from the Marquis. 
 
 She took a seat near to the oraagery, on 
 which played fountains of cool water and fra- 
 grant scents. The coolness and the odor of 
 the spot were grateful to her as a change from 
 the heated apartments in which she had been 
 moving. 
 
 She had not been ceated an instant before 
 she felt a warm breath play on her ear, and 
 f .he heard a low voice say : 
 
 " It is useless to avoid me. You cannot es- 
 cape me, for I love you, Constance. If it be a 
 madness to do so, it is the madness of desper- 
 ation. You have been mine, yon are mine, 
 you shall be mine until death. Say where I 
 can meet you, and when, alone. Dare not re- 
 fuse me, or I will pause at nothing to accom- 
 plish the resolution I have tak<m." 
 
 She turned her face upward ; it almost 
 touched that of the Earl of Brackleigh. A cold 
 shiver went through her frame. 
 
 She rose up. She gazed at him steadfastly 
 and firmly. 
 
 " I defy you !" she ejaculated, in low, em- 
 phatic tones. 
 
 Then, with the mien of a queen, she moved 
 with slow and stately step from the place. 
 
 At a turn of the gilded saloon, she encoun- 
 tered the Marquis. 
 
 " My carriage," she eai<?, in a drier, harsher 
 tone than usual. " We quit Kome at day- 
 break." 
 
 He looked at her with surprise. He glanced 
 fiercely round the chamber, examining sharply 
 every face within the range of his vision, but 
 without discovering the one he sought. 
 
 The Marchioness swept on, and he was com- 
 pelled hastily to follow. 
 
 Oa overtaking her, he said : " Whither do 
 you propose proceeding to-morrow?" 
 
 " It is a matter of indifference to me," she 
 returned, with a weary air ; "to South Amer- 
 ica, if you will." 
 
 They proceeded to Florence. Two days af- 
 ter her arrival, the Marchioness observed'froin 
 the window of the palace which the Marquis 
 had engaged for their abode, the Earl of 
 Brackleigh passing on horseback in the place 
 below. He gazed up at tie window at which 
 she was seated, and proceeded slowly on. 
 
 Florence was quitted for Milan, Milan for 
 Venice, and Venice for Naples. Thence to 
 Turin, and back to Rome. From Home to 
 Paris, and back again to Rome. 
 
 And these changes were always made ab- 
 ruptly at the instance of the Marchioness, 
 The Marquis never questioned their pro- 
 priety. 
 
 He instantly acquiesced to the proposition* 
 of the Marchioness, and exerted himself to se 
 that the preparations for departure from each 
 place were rapidly and promptly made. 
 
 But, though he addressed no observations to 
 her, he was satisfied with her conduct grati- 
 fied rather by it. 
 
 Hi could not fail to perceive that she was 
 persecuted by the Earl of Brackleigh, and that 
 she, with a wondrous firmness of resolution, 
 avoided him, regardless of the inconvenience*, 
 the annoyance, and the fatigue it entailed upon 
 her. 
 
 He tried his utmoet to encounter the Earl 
 in eome public place, or alone, but in vain. 
 
 As if the Earl were conscious that he would 
 make such an endeavor, he avoided a meeting 
 with him, and successfully, too. 
 
 During this time, the Marquis practiced 
 daily with the small-sword and with a pistoL 
 He suffered no engagement to interfere with 
 this practice ; he acquired great proficiency 
 with the sword, and he found ultimately feu 
 professors of fencing who could protect them- 
 selves completely from his attack, or who could : 
 hit him when on the defence, no matter how 
 rapidly the passages were conducted. 
 
 But still, although his attempts were made 
 with perseverance, shrewdness, and even cun- 
 ning, he could not meet the Earl of Braok- 
 leigb. face to face. 
 
 His position was an awkward one. The Mar- 
 chioness had refused even to allude to her 
 early connection with the Earl. She never 
 even now mentioned his name ; there was not 
 an act of which the Earl was openly guilty 
 that he was able to take notice of, so that he 
 might promptly dispatch a friend to him, and 
 thus compel him to meet him in a d lei. He 
 was forced, therefore, to comply with the suc- 
 cessive requests of the Marchioness to change 
 their locality without allusion to him, and to 
 put up with the knowledge that his wife waa 
 pursued by a man for whom he personally en- 
 tertained the most malignant sentiments, with- 
 out having the power to stay him, or the op- 
 portunity of avenging the affront. 
 
 Thus passed away the three years of ab- 
 sence from England. The Marchieness reso- 
 lutely adhered to her determination not to 
 speak to the Earl, nor to grant him an inter- 
 view. His threats she treated with scorn, and 
 strangely enough, her defiance did not seem to 
 precipitate him into any course which she 
 dreaded more than that which he was pursu- 
 ing, and which was wearing her life rapid- 
 ly away. 
 
 Three years' incessant persecution had told 
 seriously upon her. She was still fair, beauti- 
 ful, majestic ; but she was colorless as death, 
 and her face was thin and sorrowful ia its ex- 
 pression. She still affected high spirits still 
 spoke, when mixing amocg people of he? 
 own class, with a loud, laughing tone, and yel 
 
OB, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 105 
 
 moved with the same celerity as of old. But 
 at moments, when those by whom ehe wa eur- 
 rotmdcd could least expect it, she would be- 
 come wholly abstracted, start when addressed, 
 and indulge in a fresh burst of sprightliuess 
 which iras too exaggerated to be genuine. 
 
 What were her moods when in the solitude 
 of her own chamber, she alone knew. 
 
 Her maids were often certain, when they 
 were summoned to her in tltf morning, that 
 she had slept but little of the night, and had 
 wept a great part of it away. 
 
 At last, seemingly worn out by incessant 
 traveling, and driven into a corner, she elected 
 to take a desperate course. 
 
 " The battle is inevitable," she communed 
 with herself; " it must be fought, and it shall 
 be fought out upon its own ground." 
 
 The Marquis received lier determination to 
 return to England with a species of savage 
 glee. He, too, was heart-sick and weary of 
 the state of things which he was enduring, 
 and wjoicad at any opportunity which prom- 
 ised to end it. 
 
 Preparations were made for a swift return to 
 Paris, A rest of two or three days there was 
 arranged, and then for Englamd ho I 
 
 The programme was carried out, and the 
 Marchioness of Westchester found herself once 
 more occupying her suite of apartments in her 
 London mansion. 
 
 Somehow, although the sight of these rooms 
 revived very painM memories, yet she felt a 
 sense of security and comfort in them which 
 she had never once experienced since she had 
 left England. 
 
 It is said that consumptives, when in their 
 last days, have their bosoms filled with renew- 
 ed hope, that they arrange plans for the fu- 
 ture, as if they had years before them, and 
 feed with an appetite which gives no sign that 
 they are conscious that the shadow of death is 
 upon them. 
 
 Constance felt a sense of comfort and secur- 
 ity at the very moment that the events she had 
 moat seriously to apprehend were closing 
 around her. 
 
 For some days after her return, she remain- 
 ed secluded in her own rooms, employed most- 
 ly in planniBg out a course for the future. She 
 decided, after a long meditation, to place her 
 whole history before her father, to bow to his 
 judgment, and to rely upon his protection. 
 
 He would at least shield her from the fury 
 of the Marquis, he would preserve her from 
 the attacks of Bertram, and if she were com- 
 pelled to withdraw from society and live for 
 the remainder of her term in seclusion, it would 
 be pleasanter and happier than her present 
 state, for it would be fsee from anxiety, and 
 secure from intrusion. 
 
 Her child 1 Did she not think of that? 
 She did ; and with strange feelings strangely 
 horrible feelings she hoped to hear that it 
 was dead. 
 
 ^ She had not heard what had befallen to it 
 since she quitted England. She had intrusted 
 the management of it to Hagar Lot She be- 
 
 lieved it to be still at the sehool at which 
 Hfigar had placed, and she presumed that when 
 it quitted Blixenfinik Mansion, it would, aa 
 had been arranged, be made to believe that it 
 was the child of shame, and would be sent 
 abroad, where it could mix in society without 
 its antecedents becoming known. 
 
 Yes, she unquestionably thought of it ; and 
 thought of it frequently. She dreamed of it 
 saw it in its tawdry dress, as she had with 
 sickening horror beheld it at Ascot ; but she 
 thought of it only to wish that it had never 
 been, or that it would die. 
 
 She thought, however, more of Bertram. 
 She thought, indeed, only too often. His 
 inflexible perseverance waa haying its natural 
 effect. 
 
 It compelled her to think of him, and in 
 thinking of him to remember. 
 
 Time softens anger. Time smooths down 
 the rough points of wrongs. Time abates the 
 causes of quarrel, and clears the path to recon- 
 ciliation. Injuries looked at through A vista 
 of years do not appear so formidable, or so 
 unpardonable, &a when they have just been 
 committed. Reason, after a lapse of time, as- 
 serts a sway, and palliating circumstances 
 present themselves, and ask to be considered, 
 seldom without success. 
 
 When once more in England, the Marchion- 
 ess began to think as Constance thought when 
 a girl. She went over the incidents which had 
 led to her separation from Bertram ; and in- 
 sensibly they began to assume a form of a very 
 dangerous kind. She recalled her own pro- 
 ceedings, and she found that she had acted 
 precipitately. She forgot how she Lad been 
 urged to act as she had done. She forgot that 
 she was governed by the high, proud spirit of a 
 young, uncontrollable girl, and that she had been 
 treated in a poor, mean, contemptible spirit by 
 a man who ought to have been proud to have 
 proclaimed to the world the treasure which was 
 his. No ; she unhappily began to make ex- 
 cuses for him, to see that he had had cause to 
 complain that she had deserted him, not ho 
 her. He tad, indeed, obeyed her request her 
 demand in consenting to leave her free and 
 accept his orn freedom; and she felt that he 
 was justified now in approaching her and in 
 addressing her as ho had been of late doing. 
 
 He was her husband; neither his nor her 
 subsequent marriage invalidated his right, at 
 least, to speak with her. 
 
 It would be guiltiness for them to meet, or 
 even to correspond, she knew that, and aid not 
 intend so do either ; but she thought that it 
 was her duty to think better of him than she 
 had done. 
 
 He had so loved her when they first met, 
 and when first they were married. He said 
 that he loved her more deeply than ever now. 
 If proof were wanted, surely it could be fur- 
 nished in the persistency with which lie had 
 followed her from place for three long, dreary 
 years ; and in the tenderness for her reputa- 
 tion which he had displayed, by committing no 
 act during the whole of that period -which 
 
106 
 
 HAGAR LOT , 
 
 should direct the attention of the world to him 
 and to her. 
 
 Yes, Bhe began to conceive that she had 
 thougnt of him and treated him too harshly 
 and for whom the Marquis ! 
 
 A man with a cold, hard, proud, selfish na- 
 ture, whom she had never loved, and for whom 
 onlj too often she had felt emotions of un 
 qualified hate. 
 
 She drew a comparison between the Earl am 
 the Marquis a most dangerous one for the 
 latter and for herself. 
 
 Then she began to wonder what Bertram 
 could have to say to her, what he would be 
 likely to propose to her, and what course she 
 would be likely afterward to follow. 
 
 She sighed deeply. She could not grant 
 
 him the interview, for the Marquis stood in 
 
 her way. 
 
 The Marquis ! 
 
 She shuddered ! Then a cold, icy shiver 
 
 stole slowly over her limbs, and she turned 
 
 deadly pale. 
 
 "What if the Marquis were to die ? 
 She would be free free to be united to Ber- 
 tramfree to live a life of love and happiness 
 with him a delicious reward for all her past 
 misery. 
 
 But the Marquis was healthy and strong, 
 and not likely to die soon, unless unless 
 
 She covered her hands over her ears aod 
 bent her face down to her knees, for a voice 
 whispered hiaaingly in her ear : 
 
 " Three drops of that powder, dissolved in 
 any warm liquid, and administered, will produce 
 certain death on the seventh, fourteenth, or 
 twenty -first day." 
 
 And those words were repeated again and 
 again in her ears, and passed through her 
 brain incessantly, until she sprang from her 
 chair and paced the room in agony and dis- 
 tress of mind. 
 
 While walking to aad fro, with disordered 
 step, her maid, Fane, entered the room with a 
 letter upon a salver, and advanced to the 
 Marchioness with it. 
 
 With an impatient gesture she took it from 
 her, and without even glancing at the super- 
 scription, she tore it open. 
 
 She recognized the handwriting instantly. 
 She glanced at the signature. 
 It was signed, " Bertram !" 
 With the train of thought which had been 
 passing through her mind and still lingered 
 there, it was as if a thunderbolt had been 
 launched at her. 
 
 She peremptorily dismissed her maid and 
 eank down upon the couch. For some time 
 she struggled with her emotion, but for a long 
 time without avail ; at length she obtained the 
 mastery, and became calm horribly calm. 
 Evil influences prevailed, and she turned her 
 eyea upon the letter, and, quivering in every 
 limb, commenced to read it. 
 
 Ay! to read Bertram's letter to her MB 
 wife. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " Who lores, raves 'tis youth's frenzy bat the cure 
 la bitterer e till ; as charm by charm unwinds 
 Which robed cur idols, and we see too sure 
 Nor worth nor beauty dwells from out tha mind's 
 Ideal shape cf such ; yet still it binds 
 The fatal (pell, and still it draws us on, 
 Reaping the whirlwind from the oft-sown windo: 
 The stubborn heart, its alchemy begun, 
 Seems ever near the prize wealthier when most 
 undone." BraoN. 
 
 Floret, in a whirl of excitement, attired her- 
 self (juickly, with the intention of accom- 
 panying Lady Brackleigh to Braokleigh Man- 
 sion. 
 
 As she turned to leave her bed-room, her 
 eye fell upon the little sleeping child intrusted 
 to her charge. 
 
 Its meanings, indeed, attracted her atten- 
 tion, and as she gazed at it, she eaw, by its 
 flushed cheeks and restless movements, tfiat it 
 was in an incipient stage of some fever pecu- 
 liar to childhood, and that it would, in all 
 probability, be in a few hours very seriously 
 
 She saw that it could not be left alone. Ida 
 had set out for Regent street, and Mrs. Spen- 
 cer had already departed to meet her on her 
 return. Wiat was therefore to be done ? 
 
 To defer seeing the marriage-certificate of 
 her mother weuld be indeed a grievous disap- 
 pointment to her. She attached more value 
 to the certainty of its existence than she did to 
 her o?ra life ; and if she now missed the chance 
 of beholding it, examining it, holding it, per- 
 haps, ia her hand, the opportunity might 
 never occur to her again. 
 
 She looked at the child ; it moved uneasily, 
 with a piteous tone ; its little brows were con- 
 tracted, and its chest heaved and fell rapidly ; 
 it clutched with its small scarlet hands at th 
 bed clothes ; it was certainly attacked by a 
 fever, but it still slept. 
 
 How long would it be ere it awoke ? and if 
 it awoke, with no one near it to tend it and as- 
 suage its paiu, or moisten its parched lips, and 
 to send instantly for advice, if needed, what 
 might be the result ? 
 
 Floret thought of its dead mother as she 
 ooked steadfastly at it ; she thought of its 
 'ather, fighting for his native land, far away in 
 [ndia ; she thought much of its loneUnees, of 
 ts being cast upon strangers for protection 
 and kindness. She felt that she had only her 
 to nurse it, to minister to its wants, to treat it 
 with care and kindness, to take, indeed, the 
 place of her who had been snatched away 
 rom it to be to it that protector, guide, and 
 jentle guardian, whom she had herself never 
 mown, whose care she had so much needed, 
 and had so much missed. 
 
 Knowing, as she had known, the terrible 
 jonsequences of being deserted by her par- 
 mts, she felt that ehe could not now leave that 
 >oor, little, forlorn, sleeping child, grave as 
 he results of staying by its side might be to 
 erself. 
 
 So, with a heavy sigh, she took off her bon- 
 net again, restored hr shawl to its place, and 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 107 
 
 went back to the Countess, who was impa- 
 tiently awaiting her. 
 
 The Countess looked surprised to find that 
 ahe had made no change in her appearance, 
 and somewhat impetuously demanded the 
 reason. 
 
 Floret motioned to her to follow her, and 
 conducted her to her sleeping-chamber. She 
 pointed to the child. 
 
 ' It is in my care," she said, in a low voice. 
 " See its heated face, its burning hands ; it is 
 ill. I cannot leave it." 
 
 41 Not to prove to yourself that no brand of 
 shame lies upon your name, blackening its fair 
 reputation?" observed the Countess, with em- 
 phasis. 
 
 " I cannot leave it," replied Floret, in a low, 
 ead tone. " Some inward voice tells me that 
 if I do, it will be forever." 
 
 " What," exclaimed the Countess, sharply 
 and fretfully, as though she considered the 
 condition of the child an insufficient argument 
 for Floret's refusal to accompany her ; " is the 
 little creature a connection, a relative, a thing 
 near and dear to you, that you should display 
 euch particular consideration for it ?" 
 
 " It is motherless," returned Floret, in a de- 
 cided tone. " It has only myself to rear and 
 cherish it ; if I leave it, I know of no one who 
 would be so tender of its welfare as I am. I 
 have suffered so much that I cannot eubm.it 
 this friendless, parentless child to the mercy of 
 fate, even though in clinging t it J forego the 
 first, nearest, dearest wish of my heart." 
 
 " It will not die," urged the Countess, impa- 
 tiently. " Besides, there are surely others wiio 
 can attend it as well as you, and who can ob- 
 tain as readily medical assistance if it should 
 need it." 
 
 " Those who could supply my place are 
 away," responded Floret. 
 
 " But they will return again, probably, be- 
 fore the child wakes," persisted the Countess. 
 
 " Bo not urge me," said Floret, firmly. " I 
 cannot leave it." 
 
 " How long will it be ere those to whom you 
 allude will be back here again ?" inquired the 
 Countess, perseveringly. 
 
 " An hour, perhaps," answered Floret. 
 
 " I will wait," said the Countess, with deter- 
 mination, and promptly seated herself. 
 
 Floret seated herself, too ; and the Countess, 
 with considerable tact, proceeded to put many 
 questions to her respecting her past life, and 
 elicited from her answers which went to prove 
 that she certainly had not the slightest con- 
 ception of the names of her parents. 
 
 While still in the midst of a searching cross- 
 examination, the Countess was disturbed by 
 the abrupt opening of the room- door, and the 
 hurried entrance of Ida, who ran up to Floret, 
 folded her arms about her neck, kissed her 
 fondly, and laying her burning cheek to hers, 
 she said : 
 
 " O darling, dear, dear Floret, I have had 
 such a delightful walk, O, so delightful. I was 
 quite timid in the great shop, and I am sure I 
 shall not remember what that great black- 
 
 whiskered gentleman, who is at the head of the 
 department does not that sound grand to 
 which I contribute work, said. And I was 
 quite ||mid when I started to come back alone ; 
 but I soon met with dear, good Mrs. Spencer, 
 and shortly after that, by the very strangest 
 chance in the world, we met with the Honor- 
 able Hyde Vaughan. Mrs. Spencer knows 
 him, O, so well, and so he walked home with 
 us, and Mrs. Spencer had to go shopping, and 
 he walked part of the way with me alone, 
 He is such a gentleman such a perfect gen- 
 tleman not in conversation alone, but in 
 spirit, in conception, in principle, and O 
 Floret ! I do feel so happy. Do you know" 
 
 At this moment her eye caught sight of the 
 Countess of Brackleigh. She started from her 
 position, and stood up trembling, and covered 
 with confusion. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, madam," she said, in 
 a faint tone. " I did not observe your pres- 
 ence." 
 
 The Countess eyed her curiously, and with 
 a searching glance. 
 
 Then she returned to Floret, and said : 
 
 " Is this young lady the school-companion 
 of whom you were speaking to me a few mo- 
 ments before she entered ?" 
 
 " She is, Lady Brackleigh," returned Floret, 
 looking at Ida with a re-assuring smile. 
 
 Poor Ida's face and neck wore a brilliant 
 crimson, and Floret's peculiar smile did not 
 help to reduce her color. 
 
 " You, too, are unacquainted with your 
 parents ?" said the Countess to her, abruptly. 
 
 Ida looked at her with amazement. 
 
 There seemed something harsh and unfeel- 
 ing in the way she put the question. 
 
 The tears sprang thickly into her eyes, and 
 she bent her head assentingly. She could not 
 utter a word. 
 
 "My child, you have been deserted for 
 some important reason," pursued the Countess, 
 reflectively, as she gazed at her. " Parents 
 do not discard their offspring unless under the 
 pressure of some grave motive. Yet, not for 
 one so secret that it cannot be discovered. 
 You would, of course, be delighted to learn 
 something of those by whom you Ijave been 
 deserted, and money and persevering dili- 
 gence will, no doubt, unravel the mystery. 
 You shall have the aid of both ; but, in return 
 for that promise, you must devote yourself to 
 the attention of the little child in yonder bed- 
 chamber, during the absence of your friend 
 and companion, Floret, who is about to ac- 
 company me to my house for a short time. 
 She may return to-night, or it may be to to- 
 morrow, or not for a day or two beyond. 
 That will depend upon circumstances which 
 at the present moment I have not under con- 
 trol." 
 
 Ida's face blanched. She caught Floret by 
 the hands. 
 
 " You are not about to desert me, Floret?" 
 she exclaimed, anxiously. 
 
 " No, indeed, Ida," replied Floret, quickly. 
 " I shall be away from you, I hopeI believe 
 
108 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 for a few hours only, and I anticipate that 
 you will find me, upon my return, happier 
 tiian you have ever known me to be." 
 i ** Then, pray pray go ! do not hed me ! 
 rejoined Ida, eagerly. " I shall be happier 
 even than I am now to know that the load of 
 cr, which has so long rested upon your 
 mind, has been removed. Go, dear Edith I 
 mean Floret. Ah I I shall never learn to call 
 you by any other name than that by which I 
 first knew you. Go! but do not be longer 
 absent than you can avoid !" 
 
 " Edith 1" repeated the Countess, with some 
 little earnestness. Then, addressing Floret, 
 she said : " Have you ever borne the name of 
 Edith?" 
 
 " It was the name by which I was known 
 nly at the school in Yorkshire," returned 
 Floret. " It was a name given to me by the 
 agent of whom I have already spoken to your 
 ladyship ; but I believe it was used only for 
 the purpose of concealment. I had not borne 
 it before, nor have I since." 
 
 ' Let me see," muttered the Countess, 
 speaking to herself. " Constance Ada Edith 
 alia ! it is so my memory is not, I am sure, 
 treacherous I That name, you say," she sub- 
 joined, addressing Floret, " was borne by you 
 at tho Yorkshire school, and tendered as 
 yours to the mistresses of the establishment 
 by the agent of of by the person, I mean, 
 whom you have mentioned to me ?" 
 
 Floret replied in the affirmative. 
 
 The Countess mused for a moment. 
 
 " It is worth the trial," she. muttered. " It 
 ehaU be attempted !" 
 
 Again addressing Floret, but in a milder 
 and pleasanter tone, she said : 
 
 14 1 await you, child. As soon as you are 
 ready, we will depart." 
 
 Floret retired to her bedchamber, and once 
 more donned her walking attire. Ida, who 
 had followed her thither, received from her 
 the instructions she had to give respecting the 
 little Indian girl ; but had no time to relate 
 the particulars of the adventures which had 
 befallen herself, although every little inci- 
 dent crowded to her lips, and yearned to pop 
 out. They embraced each other tenderly, and 
 Floret cast her eyes around the apartment, as 
 if to take a last survey of it. 
 
 A kind of presentiment stole over her mind, 
 to the effect that she was looking her last upon 
 it, and she bade a mental farewell to an abode 
 in which she had been as happy, if not hap- 
 pier, than in any other so long" as she could 
 remember. 
 
 The Countess had informed Lord Victor 
 that she should be happy of his escort home; 
 but she did not enter the room in which he 
 and Hyde Yaughan were seated, closeted with 
 Mrs. Spencer, drawing out of that excellent 
 old lady every information which she possess- 
 ed respecting Floret and Ida. She descended 
 the stairs with swift steps, and was out in the 
 street before Floret could remind her that 
 Lord Yictor was awaiting her in Mrs, Spen- 
 cer's room. 
 
 A cab was passing ; the Countess hailed it, 
 'and bade the driver conduct them to Brack- 
 leigh Hanaion, Grosvenor gate. She made 
 Floret enter before her, and hastily followed 
 her. 
 
 They were not long in reaching the resi- 
 dence of the Countess. 
 
 On alighting, she entered the spacious ball. 
 A number of servants were congregated there, 
 and were going through the laborious process 
 of making bets upon some sporting event, and 
 Nat Ferret was among them, advising them to 
 back certain horses which were sure to win 
 the races for which they were entered, although 
 he was so weak and foolish as to lay long odds 
 against them. But there, as he said, cheer- 
 fully, he did not mind losing a pound or two, 
 and he laid the odds just to oblige them. 
 
 On the entrance of the Countess and Floret, 
 the men all arranged themselves, hurriedly, in 
 a line, Nat Ferret standing at the foot of the 
 staircase. 
 
 Aa they reached him, an involuntary ex- 
 clamation burst from his lips. The Countess 
 looked quickly and suddenly at him. She saw 
 that his eyes were fastened upon Floret's face. 
 
 She bent her Lead swiftly cloee to her, and, 
 in low, but rapid accents, said : 
 
 " Let fall your vail, my dear child." 
 
 Floret obeyed her, and they passed up the 
 magnificent stone staircase, which ascended to 
 the top of the building, until they reached the 
 corridor which, led to the Countess's suite of 
 rooms. Tho latter then took Floret by the 
 hand, and conducted her to her private sitting- 
 room her boudoir into which no one but 
 herself was allowed to enter, save the Earl, 
 who very, very rarely invaded its sanctity, and 
 the Countess's favorite maid, Subtle. 
 
 The Countess, with a display of urbanity 
 and attention which Floret felt was shown to 
 her in order that she might not feel uncom- 
 fortable while there,, and, longing to get away, 
 try to do so, bade her remove her walking 
 habiliments, and divest herself of all restraint. 
 She entreated her, also, to make herself quite 
 as much at ease as if she were in her own 
 apartments in Pimlico. 
 
 She observed that Floret woo much struck 
 by the magnificence of the adornment, and 
 the luxurious furnishing of the room, and she 
 noticed that a proud expression passed over 
 her features. She saw, too, that she drew her- 
 self up, and that she stepped in that splendid- 
 ly-decorated apartment with a demeanor 
 which she had seen no other woman display, 
 except the Marchioness of Westchester. 
 
 "Do you like this apartment?" inquired the 
 Countess, eyeing her attentively. 
 
 "It is superb 1" was the reply, as Floret 
 looked admiringly about her. 
 
 The Countess sighed. 
 
 " This magnificence alone does not bring 
 happiness," ehe said. 
 
 No," faltered Floret, dropping her eyes 
 upon the carpet. 
 
 And she thought, what to her would be a 
 {dace so gorgeous as this, if she had not a lair, 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 109 
 
 wear when surrounded by 
 such splendor? 
 
 "It might have added to mice," observed 
 the Countess, thoughtfully. "I thought it 
 would. When even aa young as you are, I was 
 liviEg in a style not less magnificent than this, 
 I imagined that I had but to add a title to my 
 name to win a life of unparalleled happiness. 
 I secured the title, and with it bought a life's 
 xnisery. But we shall talk over these sad 
 events soon enough. I am interested in your 
 fate, Floret deeply interested. At first I 
 fully intended to include you in my great re- 
 venge ; but your gentleness, your rectitude of 
 principle, your modest estimate of yourself, 
 your just appreciation of the position in which 
 these who should have enobled you have 
 placed you, have enlisted my strong sympa- 
 thies for you, the more particularly when Ire- 
 member the sphere is. which you should have 
 moved. I know the condition into which you 
 have been thrust, and the wretchedness you 
 Ijave been compelled to ^endure. There is a 
 goal which you must strive to win, or pine in 
 obscurity, and, perhaps, die in want. To 
 reach this goal, you must pause at nothing 
 which shall conduct you to it, save such aots 
 as would bring a blush to your che^k, or leave 
 a pang upon your memory. I am desirous of 
 guiding you on your path, of advising and di- 
 recting you. I wish you to be led by me, en- 
 tertaining, at the same time, the conviction 
 that I will neither suggest nor acjvise you to 
 take any step derogatory to your honor, or 
 opposed to your sense of what is right. Will 
 you, with this understanding, consent to sur- 
 render your judgment to me, and do as I shall 
 recommend you?" 
 
 " I am willing to do anything which is not 
 blamable to become mistress of the facts of 
 which you have promised to give me proofs," 
 returned Floret, without hesitation. 
 
 " Enough," answered the Countess, la- 
 conically. 
 
 She rang her bell sharply. Almost instant- 
 ly, it was answered by her maid, Subtle. 
 
 The Countess beckoned to her as she ap-. 
 peared at the door, and, pointing to Floret, 
 eke said : 
 
 "Assist that young lady to remove her bon- 
 net and shawl." 
 
 At the same time, with an impatient haste, 
 ehe tore ralher than took cff her own. 
 
 While thus engaged, she watched the face of 
 her maid, Subtle, attentively. 
 
 As Floret lifted up her vail and removed 
 her bonnet, she saw that the eyes of Subtle 
 expanded, and she heard a faint exclamation 
 of surprise burst from her lips. 
 
 She made no remark until Floret's shawl 
 was removed, and she stood in her plain yet 
 neat and elegant robe, which she wore in her 
 secluded apartments at Pimlico, 
 
 Subtle' s behavior was a pattern of discretion 
 and civility It was very evident to the mar- 
 chioness that she was utterly amazed, and 
 could not keep her eyes from Floret's face. 
 Tet ehe moved about and busied herself, and 
 
 seemed BO occupied with mailers which, 
 though trifles, were very conducive to personal 
 comfort, that Floret did not for an instant 
 imagine that ehe was taking more notice of 
 her than efee would of any ordinary guest of 
 her ladyship's. 
 
 Presently the Countess said to Floret : 
 
 " Do you remember my maid, Subtle, 
 Floret?" 
 
 Floret was surprised at the question, but it 
 flashed through her mind that when ill there, 
 some few years previously, that a young wom- 
 an assisted Susan Atten to wait upon her. 
 
 She looked at Subtle, but she did not recog- 
 nize the face. She thought, however, that it 
 was possible that ehe had seen her in that 
 house before, but she did not remember her. 
 To elicit this acknowledgment was not, how- 
 ever, the purpose of the Countess* question. 
 She wished to draw from Subtle an unsolicited 
 recognition of Floret, and she obtained it. 
 
 " Is this lady the same person as the young 
 child who was attacked by the scarlet fever 
 when your ladyship brought her from some 
 place where your ladyship had discovered 
 her ? ' said Subtle, quickly ; and added, " Tour 
 ladyship will pardon me, I know, if I do not 
 express myself properly, but I now remember 
 the young lady's face. I thought that it was 
 quite familiar to me, but I could not remember 
 where I had eeen it before." 
 
 "Not even in a miniature?" inquired the 
 Countess, meaningly. 
 
 Subtle made a alight gesture with her 
 hands. 
 
 " To be sure, my lady, of course, that is 
 where I have seen the face I" she exclaimed. 
 " Your ladyship means that miniature of the 
 Marchioness " 
 
 " Yes, yes," interposed the Countess, quickly. 
 " You remember how that young lady wore 
 her hair?" , 
 
 " Perfectly, my lady," answered Subtle. 
 
 " And the style of drees ?" Continued the 
 Countess. 
 
 "Oh, yes, my lady! I remember it very, 
 well," replied her maid. 
 
 "Do you think you could attire this young 
 lady so as to resemble that portrait ?" interro- 
 gated the Countess. j 
 
 " Certainly, my lady, as closely as possible," 
 she answered. 
 
 "How long would ife occupy to alter a dress 
 make a new one in fact, to render her the 
 counterpart of the miniature of which I have 
 spoken?' asked the Countess, and added, "I 
 mean the shortest time possible." 
 
 "Two days, my lady, if I alone do the 
 work," answered Subtle ; *' but if eeveral hands 
 are employed, cot a day would be required." | 
 
 " That will do," said the Countess She dis- 
 missed her maid ; and when the litter quitted 
 the room, ehe turned to Floret, and said to 
 her: 
 
 " I have a plan in my head by which I 
 think I can materially shorten the term of 
 your continuance as one unknown and name- 
 less ; and to accomplish it I wish you to dreea 
 
110 
 
 HAGAE, LOT ; 
 
 in a manner I shall prescribe. It is a style of 
 attire which will bo very becoming to yon. I 
 assure you that you might be mistaken for a 
 princess in the garb I suggest that you should 
 wear." 
 
 A faint blush spread itself over Floret's face. 
 She remembered how much she had once 
 longed to appear as a princess " a foreign 
 princess' 'and what result had attended that 
 wish. 
 
 " I can carry out my schemes without it." 
 continued the Countess, observing the slight 
 confusion which she betrayed, " though not so 
 well. I see no harm in your attiring yourself 
 so as to resemble a picture ; but if you think 
 it objectionable, it shall not be done." 
 
 " Anything to win for me the right to a 
 name," said Floret, with clasped hands. 
 
 " It will be requisite that you should remain 
 here for two days or more," subjoined the 
 Countess, quickly. "No wicked designs 
 against your peace or comfort can reach you 
 here. You shall have one of my own rooms, 
 which no person in this mansion will dare to 
 approach without my permission; and the 
 short delay will give me the opportunity of 
 gathering together all the documents necessary 
 to enlighten you respecting your origin. 
 Years have elapsed since they were in my 
 possession ; and they have been hidden away 
 in obscure places, so" secret, indeed, that it will 
 require some effort of the memory to remem- 
 ber where I have placed them. You can pen 
 a few lines to your friend at Pimlic3, to set her 
 mind at ease, and before a week shall elapse, 
 you shall not only know all, but have in your 
 possession the proofs of every statement which 
 shall have been made to you." 
 
 Floret assented; for the thought crossed 
 her that it would be worth any risk to be able 
 to meet Lord Victor on equal terms. 
 
 He had been a star shining in her eyes for 
 years; but he had appeared to be so far off, 
 that she believed that nothing but her deep 
 and earnest wishes for his happiness could 
 ever reach him. 
 
 The promises of the Countess altered that 
 impression, and her heart yearned for their 
 consummation. 
 
 Two days elapsed. She remai ned a prisone 
 the whole time in the rooms which had been 
 set apart for her, and she had only her own 
 company, and that of an ample supply of 
 books, to solace her. Yet those days some- 
 how went quickly, for hope was in her heart 
 now, and she looked forward to a time which 
 Hfigar Lot's revelation had previously shut 
 out of her vision altogether. 
 
 On the morning of the third day, she awoke 
 and found the Countess's maid, Subtle, at her 
 bed-side. Although the latter had previously 
 waited upon her exclusively, she had not as 
 yet paid her such attention as this : indeed, 
 Floret had not wished it, and had requested 
 her to spare herself as much trouble as she 
 Could. 
 
 The mystery was, however, soon explained. 
 
 Floret saw in Subtle's hand a rich, pale-blue 
 
 silk dress, upon which were embroidered * 
 small group of flowers. It was a costly dress, 
 and looked very beautiful. 
 
 "It is the wish of the Countess, if you 
 please, Miss, that you should wear this rob 
 when you dress to-day," said Subtle, with a 
 smile of triumph upon her countenance ; " it 
 is such a charming dress, and it will become 
 you so much." 
 
 Floret could not help feeling a flutter a 4 ; the 
 heart. She knew the hour had arrived in 
 which she was to play a part. Before whom, 
 with what purpose, or what result, she could 
 only form a very vague guess. 
 
 She rose, breakfasted, and then gave herself 
 up to Subtle to be attired. The woman took 
 great pains with her hair, making very com- 
 mendatory remarks upon its beauty and its 
 quantity. At last, having arranged it, ehd 
 placed a simple flower ki it, and it was com- 
 pleted quite to her satisfaction, as she did not 
 hesitate to make known. 
 
 Then followed the donning of the dress, the 
 setting'it off to the best advantage, the altera- 
 tions, the additions, and those little perform- 
 ances which take so much time, but which, of 
 course, meet with so ample a reward in the 
 admiration they assist to excite. 
 
 Floret at last was attired, and surveyed her- 
 self in a cheval glass. She was startled by her 
 own appearance. 
 
 She was by no means vain ; but she had a 
 very keen perception of the beautiful. In- 
 deed, the figure she beheld in the glass she 
 considered to be so unlike her own, that for the 
 moment she believed that a stranger had en- 
 tered the room, and she turned her head 
 sharply round ; the maid, Subtle, however, 
 was alone with her. 
 
 Then she looked again in the glass, at first 
 timidly, then delightedly, and ultimately 
 proudly. 
 
 " At least," she thought, "those with whom 
 I am connected by birth cannot be ashamed of 
 me." 
 
 She looked again. Her fair hair was eo 
 tastefully arranged, the dress was so beautiful 
 in itself, and fitted her form so exactly, that it 
 was not possible to avoid admiring herself 
 more than she had ever done before. 
 
 Why this, indeed, was being dressed like a 
 princess. If, when attired in her blue, star- 
 spotted dress, and her wreath of stained mus- 
 lin flowers, she thought it possible to charm 
 the heart of a young lord, it was not surprising 
 that a wish should rise up in her mind that 
 Lord Victor could see her now. 
 
 Perhaps, as he was on such friendly terms 
 with the Countess, she had arranged that he 
 should see how a poor girl should look when 
 finely attired. It was but a fancy, but it was 
 one which she had a latent hope would prove 
 true. 
 
 She scarcely listened to the remarks of Sub- 
 tle, her mind was so occupied with the wish to 
 know what would be Lord Victor's thought! 
 of her when he saw her thus dressed, and, with 
 a quiet, gratified smile upon her beautiful face 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 11* 
 
 he announced herself ready to be conducted 
 to the contest, before Subtle had finished her 
 expressions of admiration, and her assertion 
 that she was as like " the" miniature as twins 
 were like each other. 
 
 The Countess of Brackleigh was perusing a 
 letter when she entered. The rustle of her 
 Bilk dress caused the Countess to raise her 
 eyes, and she uttered instantly an ejaculation 
 of wonder, and it seemed fear ; for she sprang 
 to her feet as though a phantom had glided 
 into her apartment, and revealed itself before 
 her. 
 
 Floret's salutation, however, instantly re 
 stored her to her composure, and, placing her 
 hand to her temple, she said : 
 
 "I scarcely knew you when you entered, 
 your attire has so changed you. " Pardon my 
 excitement, my nerves have been shattered, 
 and I fear they will never recover their orig- 
 inal firmness. Be seated ; I wish to speak 
 with you." 
 Floret obeyed. 
 
 The Countess having made a warm eulogy 
 upon her appearance, then added : 
 
 " I heard your young companion, who re- 
 sides with you at Pimlico, call you Edith a 
 name by which ,YOTI were known at school. 
 Have you any objection to be addressed by 
 that name while staying beneath this roof ?" 
 t " None whatever," returned Floret. " I dis- 
 like the name simply because it was associated 
 with so much that was painful and humiliat- 
 ing to me, but I have no objection to assume 
 it again if you wish me to do so." 
 
 " I do," replied the Countess, quickly, " and 
 with it another name." 
 Floret looked at her questioningly. 
 " What name ?" she asked, hesitatingly. 
 "It will be needful that you should be 
 known by a surname as well as a Christian 
 name," observed the Countess, in a low tone. 
 "It will not do for the servants here to speak 
 of you as Miss Edith only. Do you under- 
 stand me, Floret ?" 
 
 "I I do," returned Floret, with embar- 
 rassment ; a crimson flush spread itself over 
 her face and neck, and she bent her eyes to the 
 ground. 
 
 Her fine dress seemed to her to be a moekery 
 now. 
 
 The Countess observed her emotion, al- 
 though she strove to suppress it. 
 
 " Do not misunderstand me, my dear child," 
 she added, hastily. " I will be as tender of 
 your feelings as I can possibly, but there are 
 some questions which we must settle, and this 
 is one. Have you heard of the name of Plan- 
 tagenet ?" ahe inquired, looking steadfastly at 
 her. 
 
 Floret raised her eyes with a wondering 
 look. 
 
 "In Englieh history, certainly," she re- 
 plied. 
 
 " But have you heard it, or do you know it 
 as belonging to any one a commoner of the 
 
 present day?" inquired the Countess, etiU 
 scrutinizing her features closely. 
 Floret shook her head. 
 " I have not," she replied, with some deci- 
 sion. 
 
 The Countess appeared satisfied. 
 "How would that name suit yon?" she 
 observed. " Miss Edith Plantagenet sounds 
 well." 
 
 "To one who, like myself, has no name," 
 responded Floret, again drooping her head 
 "it matters little what name is chosen me for 
 adoption." 
 
 The Countess smiled strangely. 
 " In this case," she thought, " it will matter 
 much," but she did not say so. 
 She only said, in a slightly careless tone ; 
 " I am going out on some rather important 
 business this morning, I shall be compelled to 
 leave you again alone ; but this morning you 
 will have the free run of my suite of rooms. 
 There is one at the end which adjoins the li- 
 brary ; I should advise you to select that in 
 which to pass your time ; you will find much 
 within it to amuse you. On my return, I shall 
 be able to show you, I quite anticipate, a mar- 
 riage-certificate in which you will see your 
 real name set down." 
 
 As she concluded, she rose up and quitted 
 the room, without uttering another word. 
 
 Floret thought her conduct rather strange, 
 and she began to find her situation in this sin- 
 gular mansion, SD superbly furnished, and so 
 dull and silent as it was, irksome. 
 
 She quietly resolved that if the Countess 
 failed that day to keep her promises, that she 
 would stay no longer within it, but return to 
 her quiet home and her old resolution to live 
 alone somewhere, unnoticed and unknown. 
 
 While pursuing this train of thought, she 
 wandered slowly to the room to which the 
 Countess had directed her. She found it full 
 of articles of vertu, books, paintings, statuary, 
 portfolios of engravings it is impossible to 
 enumerate what was to be there met with. 
 
 With pleasure at finding such a store of 
 amusement, she closed the door and seated 
 herself by the side of a portfolio of engrav- 
 ings. ^ 
 
 While deeply engaged in looking over them 
 she heard some one enter the room. 
 
 She looked up and saw a pale, handsome, 
 aristocratic- looking gentleman enter with a 
 slow step, and a thoughtful expression upon 
 his face. 
 
 It was clear that he did not perceive her as 
 he advanced into the room, and she, therefore 
 rose up to receive him. 
 
 A strong light fell upon her face and the 
 upper part of her dress, and displayed both to 
 great advantage. 
 
 He heard the rustle of her dress OB she 
 moved, and he turned his eyes upon her. 
 
 He instantly staggered back several steps, 
 he caught at a chair to support him, his face 
 became a livid white, he gasped for breath ; at 
 length, with a groan, he cried : 
 " My God ! Constance I" 
 
112 
 
 EAGAR LOT ; 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 " And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 
 A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace 
 Of finer form or lovelier face. 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 What, though no nrie of courtly grace 
 To measured mocd had train'd her pace, 
 A foot more light, a step more true, 
 Near from the heath- flower dash'd the dov. 
 
 She paused, and on the stranger gazed ; 
 Not his the form, nor his the iye 
 That youthful maidens wont to fly." 
 
 Sooft. 
 
 Floret, as Boon as she had fairly an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing the face and form of the Earl, 
 guessed who it was that stood before her. 
 
 His finely- formed feature?, delicate complex- 
 ion, and patrician mien enabled her to readily 
 recognize him, although she did not remember 
 to have seen him before ; and there was no 
 one at hand to present him to her by name. 
 
 She had heard his name mentioned, but only 
 incidentally, by the Countess, and then in such 
 a tcne and in such terms as to make her com- 
 prehend that they were not living together on 
 amicable terms. 
 
 It had not, although it was not unnatural 
 that it should do so, occurred to her that it 
 was probable she would encounter him during 
 her stay in his princely mansion ; she was, 
 therefore, quite unprepared for the interview, 
 and at a loss what reason to give to him, should 
 he ask her what was the object of her visit to 
 Brackleigh House. 
 
 She rose from her seat in some embarrass- 
 ment ; and her confusion was not lessened by 
 his singular exclamation, and his very palpa- 
 ble excitement ; nor was her composure in any 
 degree restored when, advancing hastily, he 
 gazed with unqualified amazement in her face. 
 
 She perceived that his steadfast examination 
 of her features proceeded neither from simple 
 ouriosity, nor from mere admiration of her 
 beauty ; but that it was rather the consequence 
 of an'impreseion that he had beheld her coun 
 tenanee on a previous occasion, and in some 
 other place. 
 
 She ran her eye over his features, too. She 
 could not help doing it. They were certainly 
 not familiar to her ; yet, strangely enough, she 
 had a vague notion that she had seen them be- 
 fore, though she had not the faintest idea 
 where. 
 
 This fancy was not calculated to reassure 
 her ; because she reflected, that if ever they had 
 met before, it must have been when she was 
 with Daddy Windy ; and if he recognized her 
 from having seen her on some such occasion 
 as Ascot Races, his astonishment at seeing her, 
 dressed as she then was, and occupying the 
 position of a guest at hia residence, was ex- 
 tremely natural. 
 
 Another reflection, following with equal ra- 
 pidity, induced her to think that she was wrong 
 in her supposition. The name of Constance 
 had fallen from his lipa as though it belonged 
 to her. Now, she had never heard any one call 
 her by it, or intimate that ehe had any claim 
 to it ; and therefore the proper inference for her 
 
 to draw was, that he mistook her for some oth- 
 er person, whose presence in his mansion gave 
 him just grounds for amazement. 
 
 That she felt any emotion, or had any parti- 
 cle of what is termed natural instinct to tell 
 her that the man who confronted her was her 
 father, we are not prepared to assert. The or- 
 ganization of woman is always fine, and sus- 
 ceptible to external impressions more quickly 
 and more keenly than that of man ; but it 
 would be something too much to say that Flor 
 et felfc any inward promptings that she was 
 standing in the presence of a parent, althorph 
 nothing had transpired to lead her to conceive 
 that he was other than a perfect stranger to 
 her. 
 
 She felt perturbed, and trembled, because 
 she knew a'; least believed herself to be 
 standing in the presence of an Earl, without 
 having, should he aueation her upon the point, 
 any explanation to'offer for being there, save 
 that she was invited to the house by the Count- 
 ess, in order that she might inspect a docu- 
 ment relative to her birth. 
 
 This was an explanation which, if she ten- 
 dered him, she felt would place her in an awk- 
 ward predicament, and would lead to a series 
 of interrogatories that could not be otherwise 
 than painful to her ; and she now wished that 
 she had not been quite so hasty in accepting 
 the invitation of the Countess, or that, on find- 
 ing the certificate, which she had come there 
 specially to see, was not forthcoming, she had 
 returned to Pimlico. 
 
 It was too late now ; the Earl was before her, 
 and was looking upon her with an air of mys- 
 tified bewilderment, which seemed to increase 
 the more he gazed upon her. 
 
 Unable to endure his eager, searching in- 
 spection of her features, sho dropped her eyes 
 upon the carpet, and remained silent and mo- 
 tionless. 
 
 At length, drawing a deep breath, he ex- 
 olaimed, in an undertone : 
 
 "I am amazed, confounded, perplexed be- 
 yond expression. It is no phantom I see be- 
 fore me. Yet What, in the name of Heaven, 
 does it can it mean ? Who what are you ? 
 Why are you here ? Speak !" 
 
 She raised her eyes to his ; a strange thrill 
 ran tnrough her veins as she met a look, so 
 piercing it seemed as though it would pene- 
 trate to the recesses of her brain, and read 
 there her most latent thoughts. 
 
 She did not know what to reply. She was 
 not prepared to utter an untruth ; she was loth 
 to state t ;e truth ; she felt embarrassed and 
 distressed ; and she sought refuge in silence. 
 
 He repeated his questions yet more earnest- 
 
 [ 7- 
 
 "Pardon me," he added; "it is no com- 
 mon inquisitiveness which induces me thus to 
 to question you ; but it is for reasons which 
 are even more startling to myself than they, 
 perhaps, would be to you, if I were to commu- 
 nicate them." 
 
 Floret still remained silent. Her pride re- 
 volted at the idea of acknowledging herself to 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 113 
 
 be something meaner than a merely obscure 
 individual ; and yet she scorned to even inti- 
 mate that which was not true. She had no al- 
 ternative but silence. 
 
 "I assume that you are upon a visit to 
 the Countess, my dear young lady," he con- 
 tinued, in soft, mellow tones ; " but I have the 
 misfortune not to have been informed of the 
 pleasure you are conferring upon the Count- 
 ess, and, I hope, myself. I am ignorant, there- 
 fore, of the title of the lady in whose presence 
 I have the honor to be. As there is no one by 
 to formally introduce us, permit me to inform 
 you that I am the Earl of Brackleigh, and to 
 hopa that you will repose a similar confidence 
 in me." 
 
 He paused, and awaited her answer. 
 
 Twice or thrice she essayed to speak; but 
 the words would not come forth. She remem- 
 bered the injunction of the Countess to use a 
 name which was strange to her, and to wkich 
 she believed that she had no title ; but she did 
 not like to say that her name was Floret, and 
 no other with which ahe was acquainted. 
 
 The Earl wis evidently surprised and dis- 
 concerted by her continued silence it added 
 to the mystery which surrounded her, and he 
 said, at length, gravely, bul somewhat impa- 
 tiently : 
 
 " In plain language, Madam, I request you 
 to favor me with your name ?" 
 
 Floret's pride was set in motion by his sud- 
 den cold and haughty tone. A crimson flush 
 suffused her forehead and cheeks. 
 
 " My name is Edith," she said, with a voice 
 and bearing as haughty as his own. 
 
 He started at the sound of her voice, and, 
 laying his finger gently upon her wrist, he said, 
 rapid ly : 
 
 " Yes, Edith Edith what ?" 
 
 " Plantagenet !" she said, without pausing 
 to reflect said it with a peculiar curl of acorn 
 moving her upper lip. 
 
 He uttered a cry, staggered back, and sank 
 upon a seat. 
 
 He pressed her hand upon his temples, and 
 gazed wildly upon her. 
 
 A string of frenzied thoughts rushed 
 through his brain. 
 
 "Almighty heaven!" he f jaculated ; "the 
 name, the extraordinary resemblance, cannot 
 be & mere accident! That ia impossible ; but 
 yet, who can this girl be ?" 
 
 " Tell me," he exclaimed, in a voice which 
 trembled in every accent ; " are you of the 
 Plantagenets of of Hyde Park of Dorset- 
 shireWiltshire I mean of the family of 
 Pierrepoiat Piantagenet, of Plantagenet House ? 
 Speak, I conjure you!" 
 
 ] " I I do not do not know !" she answer- 
 ed, with a faltering tongue, and shrinking back 
 in confusion. 
 
 " Do not know !" he repeated, with amaze- 
 ment. " Surely, you must know from whom 
 you have sprung ! You must be of the family 
 I have named. Your resemblance to " 
 
 " The Marchioness of Weatcbester, nee. Con- 
 stance Plantageuet, ia remarkable is it not, 
 
 Brackleigh ?' ? exclaimed a voice close to their.. 
 They both turned oharply in the direction 
 of the speaker. 
 
 The Countess of Brackleigh stood within a 
 few feet of them. 
 
 She had entered the room tmpereeived. She 
 had, no doubt, placed herself in some part of 
 the room where she could not be seen by those 
 within it, and she emerged from it at what she 
 supposed to be an opportune moment. 
 
 She was, however, premature. The Earl 
 g?anced at her face. He saw upon it an ex- 
 pression of malicious triumph and vindictive 
 bitterness. He took alarm his guilty con- 
 science was ever ready with unpleasant sug- 
 gestions he instantly became frigid in hig 
 demeanor, and replied, with a&suiued calm- 
 ness : 
 
 "Yes, Lady Brackleigh, this young lady 
 does resemble the Marchionees at least, so 
 far as my memory serves me ; it is so very 
 long since I sa^ her " 
 
 "A week or ten days at the very least, 
 Brackleigh," interposed the Countess, with a 
 curling lip. 
 
 " Possibly," he returned, playing with hi 
 moustache ; " it fatigues one's memory to go 
 back to a longer distance of time." 
 
 " Still your lordship perceives the great re- 
 semblance between this young lady and the 
 Marchioness of Westchester ?" urged the 
 Countess. 
 
 "The Marchioness of Westchester !" re- 
 peated Floret, mentally, a dozen times. " I 
 shall not forget that name." 
 
 "I do perceive a likeness, certainly," re- 
 turned the Earl, coldly ; " but I do not think 
 there is anything extremely marvelous in such 
 a coincidence. The young lady has informed 
 me th^t she is a Plantagenet, which would 
 account for the resemblance. That fact will, 
 I presume, account for her presence here. 
 She is a protegee of your ladyship's, I ean easily 
 guess." 
 
 " Why, my Lord ?" inquired the Countess, 
 drvlv. 
 
 " Oh, you have for years possessed an ex- 
 traordinary infatuation with regard to that 
 family," he returned, with en attempt at sar- 
 casm. " Had our sexes been reversed, I should 
 have been extremely jealous of the Marchion- 
 ess of Westcheeter, your ladyship has dis- 
 played for such a lengthened period so great 
 an interest in every matter with which the 
 Marchioness is connected I might say an un- 
 dying interest." 
 
 Your lordship may say with perfect truth 
 an undying interest," rejoined the Countess, 
 emphatically, " an interest which will not flag 
 nor terminate until, at least, poetical justice 
 has been done." 
 
 ' I do not understand you," said the Earl, ' 
 looking her in the face with a penetrating 
 gaze. < 
 
 " You will," she responded. 
 
 The Earl laughed sercastically, and affect- 
 ing an air of indifference, although he felt by 
 uo means easy under the allusion, said : 
 
114 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 " I trust your ladyship will permit me to 
 doubt. I have tried to understand you BO 
 long without success, that I am afraid I must 
 give it up in despair." 
 
 My lord, the time for me to apeak BO plain- 
 ly thot there shall not be the possibility of a 
 misunderstand ing between us has not yet ar- 
 rived," she rejoined ; " but the time is not far 
 distant. Until it does come, I must content 
 myself with allusions, and your lordship must 
 be satisfied to cast about for their meaning." 
 
 " Really, your ladyship has played the part 
 of the Sphynx so long, that it has you must 
 excuse me become wearisome," interposed 
 the Earl. " I hate riddles ; I always did. I 
 do not object to facts ; but they must be facts. 
 "When your ladyship condescends to speak so 
 very plainly as you have intimated that you 
 will do, I assume that every assertion will be 
 supported by facts I shall be prepared to 
 meet them ; but until then do not worry me 
 and yourself by dark hints and mysterious in- 
 eiauations. They appear to disturb you, and 
 they only incite my " 
 
 ' What, my lord ?" she cried, fiercely, as he 
 paused. 
 
 44 My pity and a smile," he replied, turning 
 away to quit the apartment. 
 
 "With a sudden stamp of the foot, and a ges- 
 ture of extreme anger, she compelled him to 
 turn and look at her. 
 
 He saw that her face was as white as marble, 
 that her eyes were glaung at him between her 
 expanded lids, and that they were as bright as 
 stars. She pointed at Floret, who, overcome 
 with excitement, wonder, mystification, stood 
 shrinking by a table, and said, hoarsely.: 
 
 ** Look well upon this face, my lord this 
 young, pale f*ce the face of one who has pass- 
 ed through vicissitudes, misery, poverty, 
 wretchedness, and persecution, I might justly 
 say unexampled. Look well at it; think of it, 
 dream of it think and dream with it of De- 
 cember the fifth, one thousand eight hundred 
 and thirty -two, passed by you in Brighton. 
 You cannot forget how. Let me add that this 
 young creature, upon whom you are gazing, 
 was born at Beachborough, in Kent, toward 
 the elo3e of the year eighteen hundred and 
 thirty-three. Now, my lord, pity, me still, if 
 yon will, and smile if yon can." 
 
 She seized Floret by the wrist, and literally 
 dragged her into an inner chamber, closing 
 the door behind her, and locking it upon the 
 inside. 
 
 The Earl of Brackle'gh did not attempt to 
 follow her ; he remained transfixed to the spot. 
 He was as cold as ice, and seemed to be chang- 
 ed into &tcne. 
 
 He had obeyed her directions to look well 
 at Floret's face, and in doing so, he was struck 
 more forcibly than ever with her remarkable 
 resemblance to Constance Plantagenet as he 
 knew her, a young, lovely girl, just escaping 
 from childhood, and while this conviction was 
 edttiiog itaeif in his mind, he heard that mem- 
 orable date, which, whatever else had gone, had 
 never faded from his memory. 
 
 "The fifth of December, eighteen hundred 
 and thirty-two 1" 
 
 " This youcg creature upon whom you are 
 gazing was born at Beachborough, in Kent,, 
 toward the close of the year eighteen hundred 
 and thirty three !" 
 
 While these words were passing like fiery 
 particles through his brain, he remembered, 
 that Constance was down at Beachborough in 
 the first year of their secret marriage, and that 
 while there she was very ill. 
 
 That memory was startlingly suggestive. 
 
 At the same time, out of the storehouse of 
 his memory, came the remembrance of the 
 child at Ascot the child, too, whom his wife, 
 afterward had for a time adopted, and who had 
 been ill of a fever in that very house. Were 
 they and the young girl he had just seen one 
 and the same person ? 
 
 And if so, was she could she be a daughter 
 of Constance, his wife, and therefore hia child, 
 too? 
 
 Hia heart almost ceased to beat, he felt as 
 though his emotion would suffocate him. All 
 hi* life he had an ambition to have a child. If 
 he had known that Constance had been deliv- 
 ered at Beachborough of a child in secret, no 
 earthly consideration would have withheld him 
 from proclaiming their marriage to the world. 
 His latent passion for Constance wanted but 
 that spark to have set it in a blaze, and to have 
 kept it burning brightly. 
 
 Something to love and to cherish, which 
 should prove equally a tie to draw both closer 
 together, was all that he needed to have made 
 him twine his arms about his true wife, and 
 defy Fate itself to part them. 
 
 Alas ! for both, their connection being clan- 
 destine, they met only seldom, and in eecret ; 
 both acted in public aa though thay were 
 scarcely acquainted, and many temptations to 
 which the then viscount, being a young and 
 handsome man, was subjected, mads him imag- 
 ine that an affection which circumstances had 
 but rendered dormant had glided into indiffer- 
 ence. 
 
 All was changed now. His love had come 
 back upon him. Years had but rendered it 
 more ardent, and he was still engaged in the 
 endeavor to obtain with Constance a secret 
 and lengthened interview. He had no doubt, 
 if he succeeded, that he should prevail upon 
 her to fly with him to some region far away 
 from England, where, unknown, they could 
 live in security and happiness upon that love 
 which they had both so heedlessly cast away 
 when they might have enjoyed it, not only 
 with felicity, but with honor. 
 
 He had refrained for the last two years from 
 attempting to meet her in public, and appear- 
 ing there to annoy her. He had no desire, for 
 her sake, to set the tongue of scandal in ac- 
 tion, and he did not wish to provoke a hostile 
 meeting with the Marquis. He knew that the 
 latter, from some cause or other, suspected 
 him of having an illicit attachment for the 
 Marchioness, and was ever ready whenever 
 they encountered each other, aa rare as the 
 
OR. THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 115 
 
 occasions were, to fasten a quarrel upon him ; 
 but he avoided giving him the opportunity, 
 for he had a preeentiment that if they did ever 
 have a meetieg, it would be a deadly one. He 
 could answer at least for his own fixed resolve 
 upon that point 
 
 To add to the intensity of his feeling upon 
 the matter, there now came the startling sug- 
 gestion that he was the fcther of a grown-up 
 child, and that he had a few minutes previous- 
 ly seen her for the first time. 
 
 The more he reflected, and thoughts rushed 
 like lightning through his brain, the more cer- 
 tain he became that Floret was his child. Her 
 age, the pjace of her birth, her name, and, 
 above all, her remarkable resemblance to Con- 
 stance, assured him that, it must be so. 
 
 If eo, where had she been aince her birth? 
 in whose hands? how brought up ? 
 
 He turned faint and cold. The Countess had 
 spoken of vicissitudes, misery, poverty, wretch- 
 edness, and persecution, What might that 
 comprehend ? 
 
 His pride took fright. She was, if his child, 
 and he had scarcely a doubt of it, the daugh- 
 ter of an earl, and had been. Heaven alone 
 knew what. 
 
 How sick at heart he felt. 
 
 He thought of the beggar-child at Ascot 
 Races, with a wreath round her head, and e ell- 
 ing flowers. 
 
 His child ! 
 
 The child of Constance, by her present title 
 Marchionees of Westchester, by her right 
 Countess of Braekleigh, selling flowers, a 
 child-beggar, upon a race-course. 
 
 The thought was maddening to him. "What 
 could he do if it were to be proved to him that 
 Floret was hia child ? Could he recognize her, 
 though his heart would yearn, leap, to press 
 her to hia bosom and call her his own dar- 
 ling? 
 
 Yet, if Constance had become a mother 
 while staying at Beachborough, what was her 
 motive for concealing from him the fact that 
 she had had a child ? 
 
 There was something so strange and mys- 
 terious in this, that he could not find a solu- 
 tion for it ; but he determined to obtain one. 
 H resolved to bring matters to a crisis, for 
 the time had evidently come now. 
 
 The Countess how, he could not surmise 
 evidently knew all, for she had so significant- 
 ly, after mentioning the date of his marriage 
 with Constance, requested his pity. He had 
 no doubt that she had some scheme on foot 
 which, if he suffered her to bring to maturity, 
 might secure to her some great revenge and 
 ruin him. Not only ruin him, but might so 
 compromise Constance as to figuratively de- 
 stroy her ; it must, therefore, it was evident, 
 be his first task to forestall her plans, by tak- 
 ing prompt action himself. 
 
 That action must be, at every hazard, to ob- 
 tain an interview with Constance. It was a 
 difficult task, for she appeared to be ever on 
 the alert to dicover his arrangements to secure 
 an interview witli her and to defeat them. His 
 
 motives, however, both for lier sake and hia 
 own, were so strong, that risks he had previous- 
 ly declined to incur he now determined to haz- 
 e,rd ; and with this intention he hastened to big 
 study. 
 
 He rang a bell for Nat, who appeared very 
 promptly, and with a peculiar smirk upon his 
 face. 
 
 Before the Earl could speak, Nat exclaim- 
 ed, with a knowing wink : 
 
 ** It's all right this time, my Lord !" 
 
 " What is all right?" he asked, sternly. 
 
 "Me an' that party, my Lord 1" returned 
 Nat, with a wink of the eye. 
 
 'I am in so humor for any foolery I" ex- 
 claimed the Earl, sharply. " 1 have some par- 
 ticular instructions to give you, and you will, 
 therefore, be wise if you keep a silent tongue, 
 and listen to me very attentively." 
 
 " I axes your pardon, my Lord," returned 
 Nat, with a determined air, but yet with a per- 
 sistency that would not be denied, although 
 he perceived that the Earl was in no mood 
 to be trifled with ; " but I've just seen that 
 
 P " What party, fool?" cried the Earl, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "Vy, my Lord, Fane, the Marchioness's 
 vaiting-maid," returned Nat. 
 
 "Ha!" cried the Earl, quickly; " what did 
 she say ?" 
 
 " Vy, my Lord, ve met permiskus, as I 
 might say," answered Nat, rubbing his chin 
 with his right hand. " A&' a thought struck: 
 me, vich I acted on. I had & party vith dark 
 ringlets in my hi' as the fust Mrs. Ferret, but 
 she didn't vait for me, but married a slaught- 
 erman, doin', I believe, a good stroke o' busi- 
 ness, vich 1 tock rayther to 'art, because I voa 
 deeply wovzd vith them ringlets, and a scream- 
 in " 
 
 " What the devil is all this rubbish to me ?" 
 cried tie ttarl, eagerly. 
 
 " Ofily jest then," rejoined Nat, hastily, for 
 he saw danger in the sparkling of the Earl's 
 eyoa, " that when I saw Fane to-day, I sez to 
 myself, ' I'll make her an offer to be Mrs. Fer- 
 ret number one, an' if she consents to my 
 propersition, vy sh.3'11 jest tell me how my Lord 
 can drop upon the Marchioness vhen she can't 
 give 'im the slip." 
 
 " Capital !" cried the Earl, hastily; "you 
 proposed, and she accepted you?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lord," replied Nat, rubbing his 
 hands; "and " 
 
 " The Marchioness ! tell me only of ier!" 
 he cried, eagerly. 
 
 " Vanders of a heveniu' up an' down dawn 
 the flower-gardiog and shady valks at the back 
 of Vestchester House, vich 'ere is the key on 
 it," said Nat, holding up a small bright latch- 
 key- ,t 
 
 The Earl snatched it from him. 
 
 " About what time ?" he inquired. 
 
 " Atween eight and nine, my Lord, in the 
 dux of the hevenin'," he answered. 
 
 The clock was tolling the hour of nine, and 
 the Earl, muffled in a cloak, stood in the eha- 
 
116 
 
 HAGAR LOT : 
 
 dow of a thick herbaceous tree in the gar- 
 dens of Weatc heater House, silent and mo- 
 tionless. 
 
 He had heen in the same spot just one hour 
 without hearing a leaf fall, but his patience 
 was at length rewarded by the sound of a 
 light and stealthy step moving toward him. 
 
 As it reached the spot where he was stand- 
 ing, he moved apace forward, and discovered 
 the form of a woman before him, though she, 
 too, was shrouded by a cloak. 
 
 He clutched at her hand, and caught her by 
 the wriet ; the hood of her cloak fell from 
 her head, and disclosed the features of Hagar 
 Lot. 
 
 She gazed upon her detainer with gleaming 
 ayes, which seemed to flash with fire, and in 
 low, but clear, distinct, and bitter tones, she 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " So, my Lord, as the day of reckoning sure- 
 ly comes to us all, we meet at last." 
 
 The Earl staggered back a step ; a groan 
 escaped his lips, and he would have fled, but 
 that, in her turn, she caught him by the wrist 
 2nd detained him. 
 
 CHAPTElTxXVIII. 
 
 ** Let me wring your heart; for so shall, 
 If it be made of penetrable stuff ; 
 If damned custom have not braz'd it so, 
 That it is proof and bulwark against sense." 
 " What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue 
 la noise so rude against me ?" 
 
 * * * " Such an act 
 That blura the grace and blush of modesty ; 
 Calls virtue hypocrite ; takes off the rose 
 From the fair forehead of an innocent love. 
 And seta a blister here." SHAKESPEARE, 
 
 The Earl of Brackleigh was unquestionably 
 greatly agitated by hh unexpected rencontre 
 with Hagar Lot. 
 
 It was not that he was disturbed by discov- 
 ering that, instead of standing face to face 
 with the Marchioness of Westchester, he was 
 confronted by a gipsy ; but because he recog- 
 nized that gipsy, although they had not met 
 for many years. 
 
 There are some kinds of faces which, once 
 seen, we never forget. Hagar Lot's was a 
 countenance of that description. Years might 
 elapse she might pass from girlhood to ap- 
 proaching old age and yet her face would 
 not undergo such change that one who had 
 once beheld it would fail to recognize after a 
 long interval of separation. 
 , The Earl of Brackleigh had not an acute, 
 HOT even a commonly good memory ; he sel- 
 dom exercised it ; he considered it rather a 
 bore when it acted independent of his control. 
 Disagreeable events were always the first to 
 present themselves, especially when unbid- 
 den ; and so many acts of his past life were 
 best forgotten, that he rarely, if he could help 
 it, permitted his mind to ramble in search of 
 circumstances whose resuscitation afforded him 
 the very opposite emotion to exulting gratifi- 
 cation. 
 
 He, on finding that it was not the Mar- 
 chioness of Weatchester who accosted him, 
 would very gladly have claimed the protec- 
 
 tion of oblivious memory the moment hia eye 
 raced over the features of the stern, gloomy 
 gipsy, and, offering her a few pieces of money, 
 have passed on anywhere, so that it was out 
 of ) er sight. But his memory was only too 
 faithful, onJy too vivid ; he knew, at a glance, 
 who stood before him, and, for a minute, he 
 could hardly keep himself from fainting. 
 
 At no time could he have encountered this 
 remarkable woman with indifference, or even 
 calmness or equanimity ; but here, within the 
 grounds of the Marquis of Westchester, upon 
 which he was himself a trespasser within he 
 knew not how many yards of- the Marchioness, 
 of whom he was in search, and who, if any dis- 
 turbance ensued between himself and this 
 woman, would be drawn to the spot here the 
 meeting filled him with trepidation ; and as 
 he beheld her, and heard the low, distinct, and 
 sonorous tones of her well-remembered voice, 
 it seemed as if the powers of sense, sight, hear- 
 ing, life itself, were being drawn swiftly from 
 him. 
 
 Hagar perceived how much her unlooked- 
 for presence agitated him. She saw hia 
 blanched cheek, his shrunken eyelid, and hia 
 tottering step a gleam of fierce exultation 
 shot from her eyes. 
 
 " Well met,! say once more, my Lord!" he 
 exclaimed, as she observed him endeavor to 
 master his quivering emotion. " I perceive 
 that you recognize me. I see that you recall 
 my features with a sickening sense of shame 
 and of fear. I do not marvel at your confu- 
 sion, nor at your palpaple terror. I know 
 your errand here, and I, too, feel that it would 
 be a most unpalatable situation for you to be 
 compelled to listen to the unsparing remarks 
 upon your conduct to me, which I shall hare 
 to make, knowing that ears, which for worlds 
 you would not have catch my observations, 
 are drinking in every word. It is fit that you, 
 who never felt for others, should now suffer 
 on your own account." 
 
 *' A a if you desire a to have an in- 
 terview wi wi with me a I will grant you 
 one a but not now not here, 7 ' stammered 
 the Earl, yet speaking rapidly. 
 She waved her hand. 
 
 "Here, and now I" she returned, with stern 
 and deliberate emphasis. I have much to 
 eay to you. The time for my address to you 
 has come. We could have selected no better 
 place for it." 
 
 "But," urged the Earl, hastily, "you do 
 not^now, perhaps, that I have no right to be 
 here-npthat I am trespassing that, if discov- 
 ered ^ero by the sound of voices in conversa- 
 tion, that discovery will be followed by my 
 instant expulsion nay, in all human proba- 
 bility, by something much worse." 
 
 " How worse? Explain yourself, my Lord 
 Brackleigh," she observed, coldly, as she 
 gazed steadfastly at him. 
 
 " Hush !" he rejoined, raising his hand with 
 a gesture of caution. "Do not repeat my 
 name in such loud tones ; by BO doing, you 
 only precipitate events." 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 117 
 
 <; To waat do you allude?" she said, in a 
 half- sarcastic, half-savage tone. 
 
 " Bloodshed !" he responded, emphatically. 
 
 "Whose? yours?" she rejoined, instantly, 
 with a eneer. 
 
 " Or that cf others !" he answered, sharply, 
 as though etung by her sneering tone. 
 
 " Ay 1" she exclaimed, with a short laugh, 
 which made his blood run cold. " Murder ! 
 that is usually the goal to which we wade 
 through crimes such es you hare committed. 
 
 She paused abruptly, although she was 
 about to append something to that remark ; 
 and he took the opportunity to again urge 
 upon her the propriety of their meeting in 
 some place lees calculated to be dangerous to 
 them both. 
 
 It is not dangerous to me," she returned, 
 quickly. " You beet know how dangerous it 
 is to you, and wherefore. Lei me add, that 
 it is my intention not to permit your conven- 
 ience to interfere with mine. Your wishes 
 have been too often deferred to by me ; it is 
 my turn now." 
 
 " What if I will not listen to you ?" he said, 
 gloomily. 
 
 "You shall you must," she rejoined, 
 Slowly, and with a strong emphasis upon th 
 last word. 4< If you were to attempt to qui 
 me now, I would summon the people of th 
 Marquis of Westchester, and denounce you. 
 know the purport of your visit here. I would 
 reveal it" 
 
 " What ! if I dared even that, rather than 
 remain here alone with you, tD hear what I 
 have no difficulty in surmising that you pur- 
 pose saying to me complaints which will 
 gain you nothing, and will do mischief to 
 others whom you can have no interest in in- 
 juring." 
 
 " You have but to dare it to find that all I 
 intend to pour into your ear while alone with 
 me shall be delivered before a most attentive 
 audience, well provided with ct altering 
 tongues," she replied, promptly. " Let me, 
 however, advise you, before you determine 
 upon the course you will pursue, that though 
 you may surmise something which is likely to 
 fall from my lips your guilty conscience will 
 enable you to do that you have no concep- 
 tion of much that I intend to reveal to you. 
 Much that, if you have one spark of human 
 feeling or sympathy for others than yourself, 
 will make you wince like a beaten hound under 
 the lash. I may add, that as I expect nothing 
 from you, it is not my intention to seek to gain 
 anything from you ; and if I should fall into a 
 complaining tone, there will be nothing to fol- 
 low calculated to bring down miechief on any 
 one but myself, perhaps." 
 
 "I suppose that the shortest and simplest 
 plan will be to run all risks, and hear what it 
 is you may have to reveal, and of which I have 
 EO conception," he observed, after a minute's 
 eilent reflection. " I must suggest that you 
 will be speedy hi making your communication 
 to me ; for if we should be interrupted, as I 
 strongly suspect we eh all before our conference 
 
 is half over, I must peremptorily decline to re- 
 new or repeat it in any form." 
 
 " You may be an English earl, and, there- 
 fore, in the eyes of the world, an honorable 
 gentleman ; but in the eyes of the Great Spirit, 
 you cannot fail to appear a heartless, execrable 
 villain!" she exclaimed, with intense bitter- 
 ness and scorn. " But let me bid you beware 
 how you contemn me. Man, you cannot for- 
 get the promise I made to yon when last we 
 parted, or the curse which I called down upon 
 your head the curse has been working slow- 
 ly and surely. It rests in some degree with 
 yourself, whether the promise be fulfilled or 
 not." 
 
 " You mistake me," he cried, a little eager- 
 ly, on having the promise recalled to his mem- 
 ory. " I do not contemn you. I have no in- 
 tention of doing BO. I simply suggest to you 
 that it will not be poesible it would be most 
 unwise to repeat an interview which can only 
 waken up memories painful to both memories 
 which now had far better be dormant until 
 death removes us ; and which, while it can 
 produce you no benefit, will be singularly dis- 
 advantageous to me." 
 
 " We will provide for the difficulty when the 
 emergency arrives," responded Hagar, mood- 
 ily. " At present, we are alone, and for a time 
 shall continue so. I have told you that I knew 
 of your coming, and the motive which has con- 
 ducted you hither. This meeting between us 
 is not an accident. I contrived that it should 
 take place. Now, my Lord Brackleigh, are 
 you prepared to listen patiently to what I have 
 to say, or to find yourself within a minute 
 from this time in the custody of the servants 
 of your good friend, the Marquis of Westches- 
 ter?" 
 
 The Earl frowned until his eyes were hidden 
 by his brows. 
 
 44 Proceed," he said, with resumed coldness, 
 in reply, and turned partly from her, so that 
 she could not, without a direct movement, 
 watch the working of his features while he was 
 speaking. 
 
 " It will be necessary to recur to some por- 
 tion of coy past life," she commenced, speak- 
 ing slowly, and enunciating her words with a 
 marked emphasis. " I shall do this with the 
 intention of keeping the connection between all 
 the parts of my communication to you un- 
 broken. Your memory, too, my Lord, is de- 
 fective ; and it will be necessary to remind you 
 of some events, that you may the more fully 
 and completely comprehend the relation which * 
 others will bear to them." j| 
 
 " I do not think I shall forget any of the ? 
 circumstances to which you are likely to al- j 
 hide," he interposed, a little fretfully. 
 
 " So much the better, my Lord," she re- f 
 plied ; " but you may think it convenient to ' 
 appear to do so. I shall take care that you do 
 not. When you first met me, my Lord, you 
 found me moving in the society of those whose 
 rank in their own land surpassed yours in this 
 country. They were emigrants in political 
 exile, it is true ; but they were not the less 
 
118 
 
 HAGAIl LOT ; 
 
 noble in blood and exalted in station, although 
 here they lived in a less unostentatious fash- 
 ion than when at home in the fertile hills and 
 vales of eunny South. They were received in 
 the highest circles, and they were justly en- 
 titled to the respect no less than the considera- 
 tion of those whom they admitted to their 
 homes. You were introduced to me as a Vis- 
 count ; I to you as the daughter of a Count of 
 Spain. We met upon a par, and we treated 
 each other aa equals. You see tie in the 
 gipsy garb now. I wear the badge of humilia- 
 tion not because it is my proper attire, but be- 
 cause you reduced me even to a lower level 
 than that which is held by those with whom I 
 now mostly herd. You may not admire that 
 word, my Lord, but for i<s terrible meaning as 
 applied to me you are solely responsible. 
 
 " You attracted my notice by your flattering 
 attentions. Your personal appearance excited 
 my admiration, for it was the successful result 
 of close and diligent study, as well as 
 patient daily labor. You wooed me and 
 won my love by those arts which men 
 who study to betray women know how to 
 employ when their aim is simply the ruin of 
 the object they profess to worship. Cold and 
 apathetic as you appeared to others, vou were 
 to me when alone all ardor, passion, aaoration. 
 You bent upon me burning looks ; you breathed 
 in my ears passionate words ; you sought to 
 make me believe that the reciprocation of 
 your passion by me was the life-pulse of your 
 heart ; that if I refused it to yon, that pulse 
 would be snapped asaunder, and that you 
 would perish. You vowed, you sighed, you 
 went upon your knees, DOG! and wept do you 
 forget that? and wrung from me the confes- 
 sion that your fiendish arts had succeeded 
 that the love you bore me was scarcely 
 equaled by the intensity of my own. When 
 this craft had reaped us reward, you coined 
 difficulties in the way of marriage even in 
 the possibility of our continuing to meet. You 
 pictured yourself reduced to misery, agony, 
 despair, when separated from me. I knew 
 what my own unhappiness would have been, 
 had, as I then would have called it, implacable 
 Fate, divided us. You urged me to fly with 
 you for a brief period, until you could smooth 
 away all the difficulties which surrounded us, 
 and introduce me to the world as your best- 
 beloved wi/e. 
 
 " I was then a poor, yonng, credulous girl 
 a child, for I was not sixteen ignorant of the 
 world's cruel deceptions ; for my mother, hav- 
 ing married a Count of Spain, her father re- 
 solved that I should be so educated and reared 
 as to bring no discredit upon my father's name. 
 From my first arrival in England, I had been 
 plaaed at a school exclusive in the selection of 
 the pupils instructed there: It is unnecessary 
 to mention how the introduction was obtained 
 it is enough that the Marchiontss of Wcst- 
 chester, the proud Constance Plantagenet, was 
 not better educated than myself. But though 
 I had been well instructed in the book-lore of 
 the world, of the world itself I knew nothing. 
 
 I believed implicitly all that you said. I need- 
 ed not your oaths, entreaties, knee-worsLip, 
 your tears, to move me I would have died 
 for you. I thought it but a email sacrifice to 
 do what you asked of me with such passion- 
 ate implora lions. 
 
 " I fled with you. I had better have leaped 
 into a yawning gulf, and there have perished 
 by being dashed into a thousand fragments. 
 
 " For a brief space you kept me in a deliri- 
 um of happiness. You would not Buffer me to 
 think, to reason, to see, to know aught but 
 that you loved me. Indeed, tiien I wanted to 
 know no more. 
 
 "I knew not that you had inducted me into 
 evil, and had glossed your deed ever with spe- 
 cious and plausible deceits. But I had a 
 strange, silent sadness fall suddenly upon my 
 spirits : I knew not wherefore. It was the stiil 
 small voice beginning to make itself heard. I 
 found suddenly for in the intoxication of my 
 delight while with you, I had not observed 
 others, I had thought of gazing only on you 
 I found suddenly that, when abroad, women 
 shunned me, and men stared offensively at me. 
 I marveled, for I did not comprehend why. 
 
 " At this time, while walking alcne for you, 
 pleading some imperative engagement, had 
 left me, as you said on parting, to pass a few 
 wretched days away from me I met the father 
 of ray mother, who had been ia wild pursuit of 
 me from the moment he had heard of my flight 
 from those in whoee custody I had been placed. 
 
 " It was a short but terrible interview. He 
 quickly extorted from me the cause of my 
 flight. He eeized my hand, and glared at my 
 fingers. There was not a riug upon one of 
 them. 
 
 " lie howled imprecations in my ears. He 
 made me comprehend the position in which 
 you had placed me, and he heaped curses upon 
 my head. 
 
 " I cursed him back again, for he had show- 
 ered upon your head epithets of the vilest 
 kind epithets which sounded in my ears worse 
 even than the rankest blasphemy ; and I fled 
 from him fled to our home, to seek a letter 
 which I expected would be awaiting me a 
 letter from you, to be filled with protestations 
 and vowa which would contain internal evi- 
 dence of your love, your honor, the impossi- 
 bility lhat you could ever play me false. 
 
 " 1 found, indeed, a letter awaiting mo, and 
 it was from you. I devoured its contents. 
 You informed me in it that you had discover- 
 ed the error into which passion had led us 
 both, and that you greatly r^retted the step 
 which we had both taken. You had consid- 
 ered it to be incumbent upon you not to pro- 
 long our mutual shame, and therefore, with 
 considerable reluctance, you had torn your- 
 self away from me. You advised me to return 
 quietly to my friends, to make aty plausible 
 excuse which I could inveiit for iny absence, 
 and to keep my secret locked within my own 
 breast, as I might rest assured that if I never 
 revealed it to a living person, the world would 
 never be any the wiser. The prospects of 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 119 
 
 marriage with some person more fortunate 
 than youreelf, you added, would certainly be 
 open to me, aad you trusted that I would 
 eventually prove a happy woman. 
 
 " That was the purport of your communica- 
 tion to me. I wonder I did not drop dead ere I 
 reached your vile signature itself a lie, for you 
 palmed yourself upon me and my friends un- 
 der an assumed name. It, however, did not 
 elay ine. The intelligence of your death, while 
 I was yet laboring under the delusion you had 
 woven for me, would have killed me ; your 
 villainy roused a more terrible emotion more 
 terrible, for it would have been happiness to 
 me to die more terrible, because the passions 
 roused were hatred and revenge an undying 
 hatred, a never-to-be- satisfied revenge. 
 
 " I recalled the curse which I had invoked 
 upon him who had cursed you, and I cursed 
 you myself with a bitterness of heart, such 
 only a* one could have felt who, being wronged 
 as I bad been, had such a nature as mine. 
 
 " Then followed an interval of madness, of 
 incarceration in an asylum for lunatics, an es- 
 cape, a brooding over thoughts of revenge, 
 and a settled determination to obtain it. 
 
 " A sudden and unlooked-for meeting ena- 
 bled me, though only for a moment, to fasten 
 upon yoia, and tell you that I had evrorn to 
 have your life. I have kept my oatb, end I 
 will yet keep it. I have aided ia taking from 
 you a life of happiness ; I will give you a fur- 
 ther term of mental torture ; and, when my 
 own hour for quitting a world which has fur- 
 nished me with nothing but misery arrives, I 
 will drag you down to perdition with ine. 
 
 "Have you finished ?" said the Earl, in a 
 low, but defiant, ecornful tone, as she paused. 
 " Let me, if you have, assure you that I hold 
 your threats in derision. Let me further in- 
 form you, that you have had nothing whatever 
 to do with the happiness of my life. Circum- 
 stances over which you could not possibly 
 have had any control may have affected some 
 of my views, but that they have disturbed my 
 happiness is simply absurd. I accept your 
 hatred, revenge, threat?, anything you please, 
 so that it terminates this disagreeable inter- 
 view ; but before it is over, I request you to 
 permit me, as you have accused me of depriv- 
 ing you of one delusion, to disabuse your mind 
 of another. It is all very well to call a man a 
 villain, a betrayer, an unprincipled, heartless 
 wretch, because a weak-minded girl has de- 
 ceived herself into a belief that the impulses of 
 passion are the signs of a chaste devotion, but 
 there is something also to be said in extenua- 
 tion of his conduct. If I thought you hand- 
 some when I firs!; saw you, your eyes told me 
 that my admiration was anything but offensive 
 to you. You gave me back look for look, 
 smile for smile. You were, or affacted to be, 
 flattered when I spoke to you. You were 
 prompt in receiving my advances ; you lent a 
 ready ear to my words ; you acted in every 
 way not aloue to create love in my breast, to 
 fascinate me, but to inflame my p&seion, ao 
 that you might encircle me with a chain which 
 
 I could not break. I saw through the artifice. 
 We played a game to deceive each other. I 
 succeeded ; you did not ; and therefore I am a 
 villain. But what if you had succeeded what 
 if you had hooked me into a binding ceremo- 
 ny, and had turned out to be what I now find 
 you?- you would have been my wife, and 
 therefore entitled to triumph in the deception 
 which you had practiced on me. It ia not ev- 
 ery man who finds that, after the marriage-cer- 
 emony is over, the woman wno before it so 
 fawned upon him, caressed him, appeared to ] 
 love him for himself only, and to have no other ; 
 wish than such as he would frame, ia quite the I 
 same person. The same evil principles which ! 
 have developed themselves in your nature 
 since we first met would have shown theinselvas 
 if we had been united. They were in your 
 breast, though dormant. It is, therefore, a 
 fortunate escape for me ; and you, having 
 found out that I did not turn out what you 
 anticipated, ought to congratulate yourself 
 that you have had a fortunate escape, too. 
 You tried to ensnare me : I succeeded in en- 
 snaring you. Tiro people who throw a cast of 
 dice do not quarrel because one of them wins. 
 Let this foolish matter end here, and here Jet 
 the interview end, too. Let it alao be our last 
 in this world." 
 
 He turned to depart, but she intercepted 
 him. She caught him fiercely by tha wrist. 
 
 " Our interviaw has barely commenced," ! 
 she said, between her teeth. " You cannot de- 
 part until it is ended. I have beeii speaking 
 to you of matters which have occurred between 
 me and you. I ehall proceed to speak of you 
 and others. I am about to gratify you with 
 some information concerning one Constance 
 Pl&ntagenet and her child ha ! that ma^ea 
 you start, does it ? You will start and quiver | 
 more before I have done with you. Let me, ! 
 however, first express my utter scorn at your j 
 retort upon me. It wanted but that piece of : 
 meanness to crown your heartless villainy to 
 me. Yet if I can extract comfort out cf any- ! 
 thing, it will be the knowledge that I have 
 been able to successfully thwart all your plans- 
 upon the Marchioness of Westchester for the 
 last ten years." 
 
 "You?" he ejaculated, with angry BUP-! 
 piise. 
 
 "I!" she answered, grimly. ""When I es- 
 caped from the mad house, I searched for you 
 as a starving tiger searches for prey. I changed 
 thea from what you knew me to what I am. j 
 As a gipsy, and with a tribe which, from causes 
 which can be of no interest to you, were bound 
 to serve me, I was not only able to obtain the 
 means to live a matter of indifference to me, 
 but for the object which I had at heart but it 
 afforded me facilities for working out certain 
 designs which I had planned against your ease 
 and comfort, as well as against your peace of 
 mind, as I had sworn I would. Of these plans 
 I will speak no further, than to admit that 
 they were mostly frustrated by circumstances 
 which, ia opite of all my efforts, I failed to i 
 control. 
 
120 
 
 IIAGAR LOT 
 
 
 " In the midst of my disappointment and 
 despair, Fate conducted to me Constance, 
 Marchioness of Westchester." 
 
 " She sought me, ptoud Lord of Brackleigh, 
 In order that I might epirit away a child a 
 young, fair, lovely, haughty child her child, 
 Earl Brackleigh your child, Earl Brackleigh. 
 I found the child Bleeping in a little bed in one 
 of the humblest cots in Beachborough. I stole 
 it as it slept." 
 
 " Wretch I" muttered the Earl, with livid 
 lips. 
 
 j, "0! but Fate had found me, at last, a 
 way to wreak vengeance!" she responded, 
 
 What, do you dare to tell me that Con- 
 stance, Marchioness of Westchester, engaged 
 you to steal a child which was hers, and which 
 she dared not acknowledge?" cried the Earl, 
 with considerable excitement. 
 
 " Is your lordship anxious that her husband, 
 the Marquis, should make a third person at 
 this interview ?" she reoponded, sarcastically. 
 " You have but to elevate your voice a little 
 more, and your object will be obtained !" 
 
 He started, and gazed around him nerv- 
 ously. Then he said, hastily, and in a lover 
 tone : 
 
 *' What proof can you give to me that you 
 are speaking the trutii ? You have confessed 
 to having desigan against my peace, and there- 
 fore you have an interest in falsifying facts 
 when addressing me !" 
 
 " In my present narration, I have, at least, 
 an interest in telling the truth," she added, 
 with a marked enunciation. " It is my object 
 to wring your heart, if you have one to wring 
 to drive you to desperation and madness, as 
 you did me. I tell you that what I have said, 
 and what I shall say to you, are facts. Is it 
 not a fact that you wooed Constance Planta- 
 genet in secret?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " That you met her, and made her believe 
 that you loved her ?" 
 
 "I did love her!" 
 
 "Yon did?" 
 
 " I did, and do now !" 
 
 "What now still?" 
 
 " Passionately madly. She is the only 
 woman I ever loved shall ever love! Will 
 that serve you ?" 
 
 "Why, I thought you had done your 
 worst I" gasped Hagar, grasping at a branch 
 of a tree for support ; ' but I find that you 
 ^ still make me feel that you can further insult 
 \ me, further degrade me, can make my hatred 
 j of you yet more venomous, my desire for ven- 
 geance yet more fierce and vindictive. Your 
 words have been like a succession of stabs 
 upon an already deeply-wounded heart. And 
 ! now hold your heart, fiend of the remorseless 
 ; nature ! for my tongue shall stab it as deeply 
 and as poisonously as yours has gashed 
 mine!" 
 
 She paused for a moment to wipe the clam- 
 my sweat from her brow, and, drawing a deep 
 breath, she said, between her teeth : 
 
 " So you admit that -you passionately love 
 the wife of another?'' 
 
 He bent his head down to hers, and said, also 
 between his clenched teeth : 
 
 " My wife, woman I" 
 
 She recoiled from him. 
 
 4< What!" she cried, in a tone of unaffected 
 horror ; " would you have the atrocious au- 
 dacity to insinuate to me to me, Lord 
 Brackleigh, that you hare both been, guilty ol 
 bigamy?" 
 
 "No no no!" he cried, hurriedly. "I 
 should have said, she who ought to have been 
 my wife 1" 
 
 Hagar looked at him steadfastly, penetrat- 
 ingly ; her lips muttered and moved ; he had 
 given her a clue to an idea which she had not 
 hitherto conceived. She had all along sup- 
 posed that he, Bertram, had, by some villain- 
 ous contrivance, succeeded in beguiling and 
 betraying the Marchioness, as he had her, and 
 that though the consequences of Lis infamy 
 were more serious to the Marchioness than to 
 her, yet the former had managed to conceal 
 her secret from the world. 
 
 Now she saw their connection in a new light 
 what if there really had been a secret mar- 
 riage? How securely she would have him, 
 ay, and the Marchioness, too, in her power I 
 Both would have violated the law, and poor 
 Floret would be a legitimately -bom lady after 
 all. 
 
 Here, indeed, was food for vengeance more 
 ample than she could have ever dreamed of, 
 far less hoped for. 
 
 She mentally vowed to break the hearts oi 
 all she would destroy them. She hated the 
 Marchioness now; for she it must have been 
 who had robbed her so suddenly of Bertram's 
 love. She hated Floret, for she was the child 
 of those whom she hated ; and most deadly of 
 all was her hatred of Bertram, for he having 
 ruined her, was allied to two beings who might 
 yet render him happy. 
 
 Sucii a throng of thoughts swept through 
 her brain that, for a few moments, she could 
 not speak. She swiftly resolved to leave no 
 stone unturned to discover what Liper Leper 
 could have proved to her, and did not ; and if 
 she should be able to confirm her suspicions, 
 she determined that no spark of mercy or 
 compassion which might rise up in her heart, 
 either for the Marchioness or Floret, should 
 interfere to prevent her glutting her ven- 
 geance. 
 
 Recovering, by a remarkable effort, her out- 
 ward composure, she said : 
 
 " It is simply a mockery to say to me that 
 she ought to have been your wife ; but let it 
 pass, and listen !" 
 
 She passed her hands over her temples, and 
 then said, in low, distinct tones : 
 
 " Constance Plantagenet, after you had made 
 her your prey, retired to Beaehborough Ab- 
 bey in delicate health do you remember 
 that?" 
 
 " Go on I do," he responded, impatiently. 
 
 " While there, she, in eecret, was delivered 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 121 
 
 of a child a daughter," continued Hagar. 
 " This child was intrusted to a confidant, one 
 Fanny Shelley. You remember Snelley r" 
 
 With white face and parched lips he nodded 
 assenting! v. He could not speak. 
 
 "She was the foster-sister of Constance 
 Plantagenet, and, therefore, could be trusted. 
 Now, mark me, Earl Brackleigh ! Constance 
 Plantagenet recovered her health, and return- 
 ed to London. Fanny Shelley accompanied 
 her thither. But after a lapse of time m 
 great interval Fanny Shelley reappeared aV 
 Beachl orough with a child. She said that it 
 was one which had been intrusted to her to 
 nurse. She told the truth ; but the village 
 folks did not believe her her lover did not 
 believe her her lover. Lord Brackleigh no, 
 proud and haughty peer of this great realm, 
 he did not beiieve her, and witbin a few days 
 afterward she was found horribly murdered in 
 Beachborough Brook murdered on account 
 of your child 1" 
 
 " My God!" ejasulated the Earl, staggering 
 backand easping, " this cannot be true !" 
 
 " It is true," retorted Hagar, speaking with 
 strong emphasis. " Your deliberate and sin- 
 ful villainy compassed the murder of an inno- 
 cent girl at the very outset " 
 
 " No no no !" cried the Earl, with deep 
 emotion. 
 
 " I tell you it did, and that it did not atop 
 there," she rejoined, vehemently. " The 
 lover was tried for the murder, but there were 
 no proofs, and he was acquitted ; but every 
 man's face was averted from him, every wom- 
 an biased at, or shunned him. Self- expatriated, 
 he went abroad, leaving behind him a home 
 which had once been happy, and he its bright- 
 est ornament, desolate. The parents of poor 
 Fanny Shelley lie in the same grave with 
 their murdered child. They died of broken 
 hearts. 
 
 " If this were true, it would crush ine for- 
 ever," he murmured, almost distinctly. 
 
 "It is but the beginning," rejoined Hagar, 
 fiercely ; " but the beginning. If your heart 
 can be crushed, it will be before I shall have 
 reached the end. Be silent, and note every 
 word I shall say. That child your child, 
 Lord Brackleigh was left a pauper legacy to 
 the village of Beach borough, and was sup- 
 ported by those who could barely support 
 themselves. It was reared by one and another, 
 it had no home, and wandered about from cot- 
 tage to cottage for a meal and for shelter, and 
 it was kuown only in. the village by the name 
 of the POOR GIRL 1" 
 
 "Stay one wordl" interrupted the Earl, in 
 a faint voice, trembling and quivering in every 
 limb as he spoke. " You who assume to know 
 BO mush, and who assert that you are speaking 
 facts, teii me, before you proceed further, did 
 Constance Plaiitagenet know the fate of her 
 foster-sister, and the condition of of the the 
 the child?" 
 
 " Not then," returned Hagar, immediately, 
 " at least she did not, BO far as I know, and as 
 believe. She had been five years a mar- 
 
 chioness when she revisited Beaohborough. 
 Why she went thither, or what were her 
 thoughts when she entered the abbey, she 
 alone will tell you ; it ia enough for the pur- 
 pose of my narration, tha- it was at this visit 
 she beheld the Poor Girl, and learned its his- 
 tory. It was at this period that she sought a 
 gipsy in the wood, in the obscurity of eight, 
 and encountered me. I was there for the pur- 
 pose of obtaining a supply of money to carry 
 out an object I had in view, and with which 
 you were connected. I was hired by her to 
 steal the child from the village, aad " 
 
 "What?" he half screamed, 
 
 "Not murder it," continued Hagar, "no; 
 but to be less merciful to it. It was an ob- 
 ject of Lorror and loathing to the Marchion- 
 ess." 
 
 "No no; say not that it could not have 
 been it was her own child/' he exclaimed, 
 excitedly. 
 
 " And yours," she exclaimed, with a biting 
 sneer, "and therefore ehe loathed it. She 
 called upon me to bear it away, and place it 
 where it could never be seen again by her ; in 
 some obscure spot from whence its name could 
 never reach her ; where it might exist or die 
 in such a fashion that it could never cross her 
 eight perhaps her memory more." 
 
 " She could not be so foully heartless," he 
 ejaculated, in a tone of despair. 
 
 *' Do you say that of one you love so pas- 
 sionately ?" returned Hagar, between her teeth. 
 " Know that she was so heartless, and was not, 
 had the worst come to the worst, prepared to 
 halt there. You, you who love her eo ador- 
 ingly, will yet learn that. I tell you, Lord 
 Brackleigh, she would not look into the face 
 of the child, but she gave me money, and sh 
 went her way, and I went mine." 
 
 "You you! Whither did you bear the 
 child ?" he cried, gasping for breath, like one 
 exhausted. 
 
 " To a low, pestilential neighborhood, in the 
 most noisome and loathliest locality in thia 
 huge city," she returned, with biting empha 
 sis. " I deposited her there in the custody of 
 an old member of the gipsy tribe. I knew my 
 man. I saw that the girl-child was young and 
 fair. I was well acquainted with his grasping 
 avarice. I knew that he would keep her m a 
 beggar's home, but that he would make a mar- 
 ket of her beauty. I left her with him your 
 child, Lord Brackleigh." 
 
 "Fiend! Witch! I I I" 
 
 The Earl tossed his hands wildly in the air, 
 and sank At her feet in a fit. 
 
 She watched him with an eager and excited 
 look for a moment, and then ^she folded her 
 arms, and spurning him with her foot, looked 
 down upon him with a gleam of exultation and 
 a smile ot triumph. 
 
122 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 '* Beneath what hateful planet, on what hour 
 Of desperation, by what fury's aid, 
 la wfcat infernal posture of the eonl, 
 AH hell invited, and all hell in joy 
 At such a binh, a birth so near of kin, 
 Did her foul fancy whelp so black a scheme ? 
 YOUKO. 
 
 The Earl of Brackleigh was not a man to be 
 easily affected by intelligence of a serious kind. 
 He was by nature apathetic, and he had 
 schooled himself from boyhood to be, or at 
 least to appear, listless and indifferent at times 
 when other persons were excited or affected. 
 
 The origin of this systematic display of un- 
 concern might have been traced to a spirit of 
 selfishness, which was strong within him. 
 The oft-recurring thought, " this is nothing to 
 me", urged him to preserve a species of insen- 
 sibility which, though truly aristocratic, did 
 no credit either to his sense or to his heart. 
 But for all that, he felt, and felt deeply, too, 
 as we have just seen, when his own immediate 
 interests were touched. 
 
 He sacrificed his love upon the altar of 
 Mammon. Ho parted with a young and lovely 
 woman because he foresaw that by wedding her 
 against the consent of her family, that he 
 should obtain no portion with her, and he sur- 
 rendered her for one who was personally, in 
 most respects, inferior to her, but who, in a 
 pecuniary sense, was vastly her superior. 
 
 When he was surfeited with wealth, he want- 
 ed his young and beautiful bride back again ; 
 but he could not get her. He had himself as- 
 sisted to place her beyond his own reach, and 
 now he believed that she was necessary to his 
 happiness ; consequently, he felt deeply, and 
 the more deeply, perhaps, from his continued 
 and anxious efforts to conceal his feelings. 
 The recovery of Constance he regarded as 
 "something to him"; he, therefore, worried 
 and fretted, and was in a constant state of in- 
 ward excitement, because he found it next to 
 impossible to carry out his aim. 
 
 Tho revelations of beauty, as they preceded, 
 acted upon this internal agitation, &nd made 
 him susceptible to any blow she might deal 
 him, through som disclosure calculated to be 
 more hurtful to his pride than any he had yet 
 heard. 
 
 Sinco his interview with Floret, whom Lady 
 BrAckleigh had dragged BO. unceremoniously 
 from hi* presence, he had gradually worked 
 himself up to the belief that she was his child. 
 This conviction when he remembered how 
 beautiful Floret waa, would have filled him with 
 an entrancing joy, but for the fear that, as she 
 had passed her young life in an atmosphere of 
 want and poverty, she could not have escaped 
 moral corruption. 
 
 If his surmise happened to prove correct, 
 he eaw that ke had found her only to shun her, 
 and that she, instead' as he had at first sup- 
 posed she would of being an instrument by 
 which he could effect a reunion with Constance, 
 would, in reality, prove an effectual bar to 
 their being reunited. 
 
 Every statement H*gar made inflicted a 
 
 desperate wound upon his pride, although' he 
 tried to assume a calm and imperturbable de- 
 meanor ; but when he learned that he, proud 
 of his rank and lofty station, was the father of 
 a young girl, of whose beauty a wretched old 
 gipsy had made a market, and that his own le- 
 gal wife, the woman he so loved, had consigned, 
 this child to such a horrible fate without pity : 
 and without remorse, the shock to his pride 
 was too great for his powers of endurance, and 
 he fell beneath the blow in a convulsive fit. 
 
 Hagar, as he fell, stood over him with a tri- 
 umphant emile, like a spirit of evil She t svice 
 or thrice ppurned him with her foot, and mut- 
 tered, between her grating teeth: 
 
 " You hurled me to the dust without mercy, 
 wretch! It is fit that that you should lie hu- 
 miliated and broken-spirited at my feet. You 
 wrecked forever my happiness seek hence- 
 forth for your own. You will find it only in 
 the same region where I shall grasp mine 
 eternity!" 
 
 After contemplating him for a minute or eo 
 with exultation, she saw his death-like face 
 turn slowly toward her. The expression of in- 
 tense pain upon the features, the agonized roll- 
 ing of his eyes, the restless movement of his 
 blue lips, seemed to make an impression upon 
 her stern nature. She had once loved him 
 fondly; he had deceived, betrayed, insulted 
 her, and she believed her love was turned into 
 the fiercest hate, and that the only passion 
 which the sight of him stimulated in her 
 breast was an ardent desire of vengeance. Yet 
 the glance at his pallid face, his evident suffer- 
 ing, touched that soft place in her woman's na- 
 ture which makes the sex, in the hours of an- 
 guish and affliction, of sickness and misery, 
 truly ministering angels. 
 
 She bent over him, and as she saw the con- 
 tortions of his features, and listened to his 
 groans, scalding tears fell from her eyelids 
 even on to his white cheeks. 
 
 " They are the last that he s^all ever extort 
 from me " she murmured. " He never knew 
 the depth of that love which he flung away so 
 ruthlessly ; he shall live to know the bitter- 
 ness of the hatred he has sown in its place." 
 
 She drew from her pocket a email phial, and 
 moistened his lips and nostrils with its con- 
 tents. She raised his head, and supported it 
 upon her knee. She parted his hair, which had 
 strayed over his forehead, and she bathed Ma 
 temples with the stimulant nntil he opened hia 
 eyelids, and gazed wildly around him. 
 
 lie sat for an instant motionless, and then he 
 jumped to his feet, and gazed steadfastly upca 
 the face of Hagar. He perused her feaures at- 
 tentively, and presently a deep sigh escaped 
 from his lips ; he turned away, and resting his 
 elbow agamst the stem of a tree, he covered 
 his face with his hands, and tried to recall all 
 that had passed between himself and her be- 
 fore the fit had seized him. 
 
 It came back bit by bit, slowly, but it came 
 back, every word of it ; and when he had re- 
 membered all, he shuddered, end then remov- 
 ing hie hand from his eyes, he said to her : 
 
OB, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 123 
 
 " I confess I have been greatly unnerved by 
 yonr communication. If it can afford you 
 any satisfaction to know that you have inflicted 
 the greatest torture possible upon me " 
 " It can !" she interposed, eagerly. 
 " Bs satisfied, then," he rejoined, " for you 
 hare wounded me more deeply than I can find 
 words to describe." 
 
 " It affords me intense satisfaction," she re- 
 sponded, " yet I am not satisfied." 
 He waved his hand. 
 
 " Let me speak," he said, sharply, although 
 he enunciated bis words with difiiculty. 
 " You believe yourself to have been wronged 
 by me." 
 
 "" Believe myself?" she echoed, with a laugh 
 of rage. " Why, villain, you decoyed ine into 
 an infamous snare. You made a trap for me 
 out of the very love I bore you. You blasted 
 my reputation. You destroyed my innocence. 
 You have utterly and wholly wrecked my hap- 
 piness in this life, and by the infamy of your 
 conduct have more than imperiled my here- 
 after, and you say coolly that I believe myself 
 to be wronged " 
 
 " Peace for a few minutes," he interrupted. 
 " Do not let us haggle aoout terms. Grant- 
 ed, I have wronged you ; your wrong is, how- 
 ever, but a mental one. You thirst for ven- 
 geance ; ycu have, in the revelations -which 
 you have this night made to me, more than 
 slaked it, were it ten times as fierce " 
 "I have not," she interpolated, sternly. 
 "Without heeding her interruption, he went 
 an: 
 
 " No mental torture that you can conceive 
 can approach tbat which you have inflicted 
 upon me, and which I must endure while I 
 live. Still, I do not conceal from myself that 
 you have made your statements to me while 
 animated by a spirit of revenge, and, therefore, 
 I have a right to assume that you have given 
 to them an exaggerated coloring, which makes 
 them appear more terrible than they are. Di- 
 vested of all exaggeration, they cannot fail to 
 be to me both painful and humiliating, and 
 that ought to be sufficient to glut jour desire 
 for vengeance. I entreat you, therefore, to 
 think over what you have said, and recall all 
 that you have advanced which will uot bear 
 the test of proof, and strip every assertion of 
 enlargement beyond the strict troth, nd 
 then, even then, you may feel csaured that 
 you leave me a broken -spirited, broken-heart- 
 ed man." 
 
 "My Lord Brackleigh," returned Hagar, 
 sternly, " da you think I could exaggerate a 
 description of my own wrongs ? It is possible 
 ycu may ; but understand me to believe that 
 they far outstrip in atrocity what words can 
 adequately express, that no degree of what is 
 termed hyperbole could reach them. Believe 
 this alao of the revelations which I have to- 
 night made to you, and which are not yet com- 
 pleted. The story throughout is too terrible 
 for exaggeration. I have confided myself to 
 the strict lixits of the stern truth, feeling that 
 nothing that I oould add would strengthen or 
 
 sharpen the horror which the circumstances 
 themselves, toli in the plainest terms, must 
 convey. You have no shelter from the storm 
 which ia bursting upon you, and you have but 
 one escape from it." 
 
 " What is that ?" he inquired, eagerly. 
 
 " You shall know presently," she returned, 
 with a smile, which made an unpleasant thrill 
 pass over his frame. " Let me complete the 
 history of your child." 
 
 " Stay one moment," he cried, arresting 
 her speech. " You speak with a tone of au- 
 thority respecting the child you aaeert to be 
 mine. What is your authority for declaring 
 that it is my child ?" 
 
 " Its mother," answered Hugar, emphatic- 
 ally. 
 
 " Who !" he exclaimed, with a look of star- 
 tled amazement. 
 
 Hagar repeated the worda. 
 
 " It is impossible !" he cried, with asperity. 
 "I will never believe that its mother revealed 
 my name to you." 
 
 Hagar again smiled bitterly. Wiih knitted 
 brows she said to him : 
 
 " You say that you love still her whom you 
 knew as Constance Plantagenet?" 
 
 "I repeat that I do -passionately," he cried, 
 with excitement ; " I repeat it, even though I 
 know and feel that it is a dangerous admission 
 to make in your hearing." 
 
 Her brow lowered gloomily. 
 
 " I have long known," she said, in a subdued 
 tone, " that you never loved me. What mat- 
 ters it to me, then, whom you love, if I cm 
 not that person ? I still ask you, do you love 
 her as ardently now as you have affirmed that 
 you do?" 
 
 'I do," he replied. 
 
 " And doing so, do you think that another 
 deceived and betrayed her as sinfully, wicked- 
 ly, shamefully as you did ?" 
 
 He recoiled two or three paces, and groan- 
 ed. 
 
 " I tell you that I know her to be its moth- 
 er," continued Hagar ; " and there is a suffi- 
 ciently strong resemblance in the girl's fea- 
 tures to yours to settle the question you are 
 seeking to raise. She is your daughter you 
 feel it you know it ! Hug, therefore, to your 
 heart these facts. Its mother has met it, and 
 pursued it with an irreconcilable hate; she 
 whom you so love gave it over to that de- 
 struction which is far worse than death. She 
 consigned it to poverty and wretchedness a 
 squalid home, and mercenary wretches for 
 guardians. Her days were passed shoeless in 
 the streets ; her nights upon a bag of straw, 
 tossed into a corner cf a filthy cell, reckipg 
 with a festering, foetid atmosphere. She, tfeis 
 young child, the daughter of the proud EarJ of 
 Brackleigh and the haughty Marchioness cf 
 Wast.chester." 
 
 " 1 will cot believe it !" cried the Earl, wiih 
 passionate vehemence. " Who should know 
 the character, the nature, the heart, the soul oi 
 Constance PJantagenet eo well as I ? You lie, 
 woman you lie foully I Constance Plantage- 
 
124 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 net never, in the frenzy of madness, could 
 ever have conceived an act BO cruel, EO bar 
 barons, BO utterly and monstrously inhuman ! 
 I will eee her I will I will at every risk, 
 though I forfeited my life at the very close of 
 the interview ! I will tell her of this wild and 
 infamous charge against her common human- 
 icy, and I Bhall hear her indignantly and scorn- 
 fully denounce, and flatly contradict, your 
 incredible story !" 
 
 * Your hard words, Lord Brackleigb, do not 
 move me," said Hagar, with s curling lip. 
 " But let me invite you to reflect, after you 
 have heard from the lips of the Poor Girl, who 
 has been and is the tubject of our discourse, a 
 confirmation of my story upon the character, 
 the nature, the heart, and the soul, of Con- 
 etance Plantagenet : reflect, my lord, needfully 
 and solicitously, and then love her as of old, if 
 you can !" 
 
 " I am determined to see her, and learn all 
 from her own lips," rejoined the Earl, in a 
 fever of excitement. " If you have spoken the 
 truth, then I have ended with the world ; but 
 if, as I conceive, as I feel, out of the prompt- 
 ings of vengeful jealousy, you have falsified 
 the facts, then beware of me!" 
 She turned upon him like a tigress. 
 " Beware of you!" she repealed, with impet- 
 uous scorn ; " the day has passed for me to do 
 that you cannot injure me more than you 
 have done. Beware of you, Lord Brackleigh ! 
 What can you do to harm me t You have 
 trampled upon my love, yon have tainted my 
 purity, you have broken my spirit, my heart ; 
 you have made a restless wanderer, you have 
 reduced me to a level lower than any to which 
 one of my race ever sank I Why, what can 
 you do to me ? Slay me, perkaps ; it would 
 be the kindest of your deeds to me. Go to, 
 I have nothing to fear from you. I have told 
 you only the truth, and you shortly will have 
 the power of proving what I have stated ; the 
 Countess of Brackleigh will give you the op- 
 portunity." 
 
 "The Countess!" ejaculated the Earl. He 
 did not like the mention of her name ; it told 
 him that Hagar knew much more than he 
 could have given her credit for. 
 
 " Ay, the Countess !" she rejoined. " Years 
 since she had your child in her possession. 
 She believed it to be your child then, but she 
 was in no position to prove it. Her chances to 
 do that are better no v, and, if some informa- 
 tion which I have this night received be true, 
 she has again contrived to get her into her 
 hands, and, if so, you will see her, you will rec- 
 
 ; ognize her, and " 
 
 I ** I have seen her I have recognized her. 
 She bears the very name of Edith Plantage- 
 netl" cried the EarJ, hoarsely, half frantically. 
 
 t "I am beside myself with amazement," he 
 
 / added, speaking in a species of convulsive so- 
 liloquy ; " this child was her secret ; she never 
 revealed her birth its existence to me. Why, 
 then, give it the name, of all others, which, 
 joined with its remarkable resemblance to her- 
 self, is calculated to betray her? I cannot 
 
 comprehend it. It has, however, brought the 
 situation to the tnrning-point. I can endure 
 this harassing condition of excitement and 
 misery no longer. I will eee Constance to- 
 night. I will not leave these grounds until 1 
 do see her. Nay, if she cornea not here, I will 
 force my way to her chamber- door. I have 
 the right to demand explanations from her, 
 and I will do it, though at the cost of a pistol- 
 bullet through my brain from her husband. 
 When I do see her, I will compel her to reveal 
 all the truth. I will bring her before her own 
 child my child. I will make it before both 
 communicate its history, with all its incidents 
 and facts, though every word she will utter 
 may pierce our hearts like poisoned barbs; 
 then, when I knew all from the mouths of both 
 who have the deepest interest in confining 
 themselves to the strict truth, I shall know the 
 course which will be open to me to pursue, I 
 will determine upon it, and act promptly." 
 
 " After the interview which you have plan- 
 ned?" said Hagar, gazing steadfastly at him. 
 
 "After it," he replied. 
 
 " What if the Marquis of Weatchester re- 
 fuses to permit you to see his wife ?" she said, 
 with a bitter smile. 
 
 " He will not be consulted," returned the 
 Earl, haughtily ; " but I shall waste no more 
 time in words. You have told me that you are 
 in the confidence of the Marchioness of West- 
 cheeter." " I am," she returned. 
 
 "Has she ever mentioned my name to 
 you ?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Before you ?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Have you spoken it to her !" 
 
 "No!" cried Hagar, vehemently. "No! 
 Should I have retained her confidence, think 
 you, if I had let fall to her that I had been 
 your victim? You know little of women's 
 natures, my lord, if you think that they will 
 repose confidence in, or even tolerate the pres- 
 ence of a rival, although she may have been 
 the victim of the man they love. No ; the Mar- 
 chioness knows only that I am a gipsy, with 
 more education than usually falls to a member 
 of my tribe ; that I am possessed of greater 
 power than any of them ; and that my knowl- 
 edge and tact are of a higher order than be- 
 longs to one of my race. I know her secrets ; 
 she does not know mine." 
 
 The Earl did not ask her what reason she 
 had for withholding from the Marchioness the 
 history of her wrongs, and the name of the 
 author of them. It did not occur to him to 
 do B*. A very little reflection would have 
 told him that she was not likely to serve Con- 
 stance faithfully, and thai; she would be in- 
 cluded in her scheme of vengeance, whatever 
 form it might take. Indeed, the only impres- 
 sion which he had respecting her at all was, 
 that she would be stormy, would vituperate, 
 and eventually be softened down and quieted 
 by a sum of money. 
 
 He greatly wronged Hagar in this supposi- 
 tion as he had in other matters. 
 
OK, THE FATE OF THE P30R GIRL. 
 
 125 
 
 " To be frank with you," he said, with much 
 earnestness of manner ; " from your statement 
 that you are in the confidence of the Mar- 
 chioness, it occurred to me that you could con- 
 trive an interview between us. Whether such 
 ail act would minister to your plans of ven- 
 geance, I care not I am equally indifferent 
 whether it is opposed to them. I will eee the 
 Marchioness at all risk ; but for her sake, I 
 wish to do so secretly, without being observed. 
 If you can contrive it, whatever injury you 
 may through it do me, I will atill thank you 
 heartily and sincerely. I do not see how you 
 can decline to accede to my request, for 
 should any disturbance ensue through your 
 refusal, I shall not hesitate to implicate you, 
 and" 
 
 " Add to the contempt with which you have 
 already inspired me," interposed Hagar, half- 
 turning from him as if in disgust. Then she 
 added, in a low, gloomy tone, " you shall see 
 her again. It will euit my plans that you 
 should have an interview with her. I will be 
 as frank as you. I am anxious that you should 
 know how completely without hope you are 
 are of shielding yourself from disgrace, shame, 
 humiliation, and the scorn of the world. Yet, 
 withal, I would not have you die yet; and, 
 therefore, in the strictest confidence, would 
 advise you not to partake of anything what- 
 soever to eat or to drink while in the presence 
 of the Marchioness." 
 
 " Eat or drink what do you mean, wom- 
 an ?" he cried, with a mystified glare at her. 
 
 " This," responded Hagar, in a low, marked, 
 terribly meaning tone ; " that the Marchioness 
 is in a desperate position, and must play a 
 very desperate game: every word yteu will 
 eay to her will urge her on with impetuous 
 force. She can neither turn nor recede ; she 
 must go on. Ycur absence from the world 
 just now would relieve her of one of her most 
 serious difficulties. There are poisons in ex- 
 istence, my lord, which are very subtle, very 
 difficult of detection, and are very certain in 
 their operation. The Marchioness is not with- 
 out them. She who cares not for the comfort, 
 the welfare, the happiness, nay, the life of her 
 own child, will not be over-scrupulous about 
 the man who should have been her husband, 
 and was not honorable enough to act justly to 
 her. Hark, do you hear that measured tread 
 upon the gravel path? every note of that 
 footfall should beat heavily upon your heart. 
 It is the footstep of the Marchioness of West- 
 chester. She approaches this spot. Conceal 
 yourself until she has passed ; then follow and 
 address her : the rest is in your hands and 
 hers. I shall see you again when the hour of 
 ! our reckoning Las arrived." 
 
 As ehe concluded she instantly glided from 
 the spot, leaving the Earl alone. 
 
 He hastily moved beneath the shadow of a 
 tree, his heart at the same time beating quickly 
 and violently. 
 
 Ilagar's communication about the poison 
 had fearfully disturbed him. "Was it pos- 
 sible that she could conceive the idea of mur- 
 
 dering him? 1 ' he asked himself; "if BO, would 
 it be possible for him to continue to love a 
 woman with a nature so terrible ?" 
 
 As the thought crossed him, a shadow fell 
 upon the turf at his feet. He looked up ; the 
 Marchioness was within a few feet of him. 
 She did net discover him in the obscurity in 
 which he stood. 
 
 He recognized her stately form and proud 
 step instantly. She appeared to be in a fit of 
 deep abstraction, and she passed slowly on 
 without looking around her. 
 
 He laid his clanched fist upon his heart. 
 
 " Though perdition faces me, I will speak ! 
 with her," he muttered. 
 
 With a light step he emerged from bis \ 
 place of concealment, and followed her witk 
 a rapid step. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 " It is the hour when from the boughB 
 
 The nightingale's Ligh note is Leard ; 
 It is the hour when lo\ erb' vows 
 Ssem sweet in every whisper'd word ; 
 
 Bat it is not to listen to the waterfall 
 That Parasina leaves her ball, 
 And it is not to gaze on the heavenly light 
 That the la'Jy walks in the shadow of night ; 
 Aud if she sits in E3te's bower, 
 It Is not for the sake of the full-blown flower 
 * * * 
 
 There glides a siep through the foliage thick, 
 And her cheek grows pale, and her heart beats quick. 
 There whispers a voice" BYROH. 
 
 The Marchioness of Westchester returned to 
 England to face her fate to control it, or to 
 succumb to it. 
 
 After her arrival, she was not permitted to 
 rest in a state of perplexing uncertainty. 
 Events hurried her along so fast, she quickly 
 perceived that it would be imperative upon 
 her to do one or the other. 
 
 Mature reflection, however, failed to point 
 out to her not only which would be the most 
 proper conrse for her to pursue, but which 
 would be likely to prove the most advantage- 
 ous, as well as the moat agreeable to her. 
 
 Strangely enough, she regarded the struggle 
 which went on in her mind as one which was 
 waged between duty and inclination. 
 
 Her notion of duty was somewhat peculiar 
 it comprehended a faithful adherence to the 
 false marriage -vow she had taken at the altar 
 with the Marquis of Westchester, and the reso- 
 lute shutting out from her mind of all sympa- 
 thy for, and, if possible, all recollection of her 
 true husband and her child. 
 
 To follow the path this impression of her 
 duty pointed out to her would, she foresaw, 
 involve no small amount of firmness and of in- 
 exorable insensibility to the pleadings of her 
 womanly sympathies. It would involve, also, 
 a system of plot and counterplot, of subter- 
 fuge, and a systematic and sustained effort to 
 destroy every kind of evidence which existed 
 to prove the circumstances which, if known, 
 would be fatal to her present position, and, 
 also, any which might hereafter spring up 
 in truth, it was hardly possible for her to 
 
126 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 imagine what Adherence to her duty would en- 
 tail. 
 
 Her inclination urged her to rejoin her legit- 
 imate husband, and to recover her long de- 
 serted child. If that could be accomplished 
 "- without the sneers and taunts of the world, 
 and without reviving painful memories, she 
 felt that fihe would not hesitate a moment ; 
 but even the hasty conception of the first 
 howl of contemptuous amazement, which her 
 flight from the Marquis wonld raise, made 
 her recoil from the step. To let matters take 
 their course was plainly impossible ; to 'move 
 in any direction seemed to make crime a ne- 
 cessity. 
 
 It wag while involved in the mazes of her 
 position that the letter from Bertram was 
 handed to her by her maid, Fane, and ic was 
 not without a severe struggle between her im- 
 pression of her duty and her inclination that 
 she read its contents. A species of curiosity, 
 which was a part of her woman's nature, to 
 know what he would say, allied to fancy that 
 he might use some observations without in- 
 tending it, to intimate a way out of her dilem- 
 ma, prevailed over every other consideration, 
 and she perneed his epietle. 
 
 It was similar to the one which he had cent 
 to her while she was staying at Baby Hall. It 
 was filled with urgings to grant him an inter- 
 view, repetitions of his vows of adoration, and 
 promises to make her happier than she could 
 have dreamed f being, even when they were 
 first united. But he omitted to appoint the 
 interview ; he left to her the naming of time 
 and place for their zaeeting, and that was pre- 
 cisely what she was too proud to do. 
 
 She read his note through a dozen times ; 
 but there was not a word in it from which she 
 could extract a hint by which she could decide 
 upon her future path not a word which led 
 her to form a higher estimate of him than she 
 had when she parted from him. 
 
 There were some vague, whining threats in 
 his epistle ; but there was nothing to evidence 
 a spirit of courageous manliness which would 
 be likely to impel him, if she declined to elope 
 with him in secret, to step forward and claim 
 her, in spite of all the sacrifices he would be 
 called upon to make, and in defiance of the 
 punishment for the past which such a move- 
 ment would necessarily draw down upon him. 
 
 If there had, indeed, been such a spirit 
 dwelling within his breast, he would 'never 
 have suffered her to have withdrawn herself 
 from him ; he would never have played the 
 part he had done. 
 
 She tore his letter into shreds and burned 
 the pieces; she tried to forget that she had 
 read it, but in vain ; she strore to banish him 
 him from her mind, bat without success : even 
 his proposition to grant him an interview 
 haunted her, and an idea began to dawn upon 
 her that, if euch an interview were to be ever 
 consented to by her, it was she who, after all, 
 would have to fix the time and place, for she 
 alone knew when it could be accomplished 
 without detection, or without interruption. 
 
 She was distracted by these harassing 
 thoughts, and was greatly disturbed, likewise, 
 by a fear which clung to her that she, while 
 with the Mirquis some evening at one of the 
 numerous assemblies or receptions which they 
 attended, should encounter the Earl of Brack* 
 leigh. ? 
 
 She was conscious, when at euch fashionable 
 gathering?, that, closely as ehe watched every 
 avenue, outlet, group of persons, or spot where 
 he was likely to be met with, the Marquia 
 watched them more sharply and more eagerly 
 than herself, and she had a nervous apprehen- 
 sion that ho intended to provoke a collision 
 with Bertram if he encountered him, in order 
 to extort from him, if possible, the circum- 
 stances which had attended his early connec- 
 tion with his Marchioness. 
 
 It was not possible that such thoughts in- 
 cessantly passing through her brain should not 
 have their due effect upon her nerves. She 
 began to grow full of fancies, to feel depressed 
 in spirits, to possess a disinclination to move 
 abroad, to decline invitations, to feel ill at ease 
 anywhere except in her own room. She would 
 start at the sound of a voice, her heart would 
 leap at a knock at her chamber door, and the 
 fingers of any person laid unexpectedly upon 
 her arm caused a cold shudder to pass through 
 her frame. 
 
 She saw that the Marquis suffered equally 
 with herself. She could not fail to ee-e how 
 thin he had become, how haggard, and how 
 pale his face wag, while his eyes were like 
 fiery meteors, which eeemed to be gradually 
 consuming all his vital power, and to grow 
 brighter as they drew nearer to annihilation. 
 
 He merely spoke to her ; he knew that, 
 whatever might have been the case, he had no 
 cause now to be jealous of her, and he ex- 
 hibited toward her none of that haughty ina- 
 periousness which he had felt compelled to 
 use when his mind was racked with doubt, 
 and which she had returned with such interest. 
 He was simply cold and distant tocher, frigidly 
 cerem jnious, and a3 little alone with her as he 
 could contrive to be. 
 
 As ehe contracted her visits to her fashion- 
 able acquaintances, so she diminished her car- 
 riage-drives, until ehe almost passed her time 
 in her own suit of apartments, varied only 
 occasionally by a promenade in tke exquis- 
 itely laid out giounds attached to Westchester 
 House. 
 
 Since her return to England, Hagar Lot had 
 contrived to obtain access to her, and had had 
 repeated interviews with her. She had not 
 assisted to calm her mind; for she had inform- 
 ed her ot Floret's escape from school, her ap- 
 pearance at the gipsy camp, her subsequent 
 urimpeded departure from thence, and ot her 
 journey to London, where, she informed her, 
 ehe was at that moment residing, although she 
 was unable then to say in what part. 
 
 Hagar, too, enlarged upon Floret's growth, 
 form, face, accomplishments, and her mental 
 qualifications. She predicted for her a shori 
 career of vice and horror in London, unleau 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 127 
 
 she were sent to Australia or New Zealand, 
 where she might contract a marriage with 
 eorue honest eettler, and there pass, in quiet 
 obscurity, the remainder of her life, 
 
 Whatever might have been the inward emo- 
 tioss which the Marchioness suffered, she did 
 not betray them outwardly. She lietened to 
 Hagar in haughty silence, and, when she had 
 finished, she bade her make the necessary ar- 
 rangements, as soon as she had discovered 
 Floret, to send her to one of the colonies 
 which she had named, and she promised to 
 furnish the means. 
 
 Hagar, who had used every word she could 
 select which was calculated to make the 
 Marchioness wince and quiver with wounded 
 pride, waa unable to detect the bitter pain 
 those words inflicted upon her ; for she stood 
 motionless, with eyes fasteEcd upon the car- 
 pet, end, while she listened, neither spoke, 
 moved, nor looked at her until she had fin- 
 ished, and then she turned coldly from her, 
 making, in brief terms, the promise already 
 named. 
 
 She macfe Hagar feel as though she was 
 asking of her a favor for some one in whom 
 she had taken a great interest, and that she 
 granted it ia an icy, patroniziug way. 
 
 Hagar felt that Constance hated and loathed 
 her, that she instinctively shrank from her, al- 
 though she had been of service to her, and 
 might etill be. She assumed that it was the 
 very nature of the service which she had per- 
 formed, end the secrets of hers whioh she pos- 
 sessed, which had aroused the feeling of dis- 
 like ; but in this she was wrong. Constance 
 could not have explained why she entertained 
 EO decided an antipathy to her. She only 
 knew that ehe felt the same aversion to her as 
 she would to any one who. had done her a 
 great wrong. 
 
 It was that unspoken, intuitive perception 
 with which Nature has endowed women, 
 wkich told JLer she had crossed her path, and 
 would cross it somewhere, somehow she 
 could not imagine ho?r ; certainly siie did not 
 dream it was as a rival. 
 
 On this very evening on which tie Earl of 
 Brackkigh had encountered Hagar, supposing 
 that she was the Marchioness, she had just 
 quitted the latter, after what would have 
 proved a very stormy interview between any 
 other two women. 
 
 But then the Marchioness was high-bred, 
 and in addressing a person whom she assumed 
 to be greatly her inferior, ehe would not per- 
 mit hereelf to display temper. Hagar was 
 anxious to precipitate her into the' commission 
 of some kind of crime for which the law ad- 
 mitted of no extenuation. The Marchioness 
 had never communicated any of her plans 
 (save for the disposal of Floret) to Hagar, and 
 she never intended to do so, and when the lat- 
 ter became conscious that, save in one matter, 
 the Marchioness had confided to her nothing, 
 she offered suggestions which were listened to 
 and coldly declined. Hagar taunted her, and 
 in language Buck as the Marcliioness had not 
 
 heard her use, it wao ao much above her ap- 
 parent station, but she only moved the latter 
 to reply in similar tones ; both were haughty 
 and stern in their manner, sarcastic, and, upon 
 the part of the Marchioness, contemptuous, ia 
 their allusions to each otb^r, and, at length, 
 the Marchioness terminated the scene, which 
 she had conducted with cold dignity, by ab- 
 ruptly quitting the apartment, and leaving 
 Hagar alone. The latter had stood all the 
 time like a marble statue, and had spoken 
 throughout in an undertone, making furious 
 suggestions, M'hich were of a fiendish charac- 
 ter. Not the most scornful taunt which the 
 Marchioness addressed to her appeared to 
 make any change in her imjMwsible demeanor ; , 
 her eyes only occasionally gleamed and glared, 
 as if they weVe lighted up by some internal 
 flame, and when the Marchioness, with an im- 
 perious bearing, swept from the room, Hagar 
 followed her only with her eyes until she dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 Her lips moved for an instant ; and then she 
 too, glided away to the garden, where, most 
 unexpectedly, she met the man who, from a 
 bright, high-spirited, noble-hearted girl, had 
 converted her into what she then was. 
 
 Although the Marchioness had quitted her 
 with an otfended air, she bore with her a sug- 
 gestion which Hagar had submitted to her, 
 and which now rankled and tossed most un- 
 easily and painfully in her mind. 
 
 Hagar had alluded to the care-worn aspect 
 which the countenance of the Marchioness 
 wore. She called it a cloud upon her sunehine. 
 She reminded her of a conversation which they 
 had had at Raby Hall, and in a meaning tone. 
 Baid that the potion which she had tLen hand- 
 ed to her was as potent in removing the cloud 
 which obscured her happiness as it was to bear 
 her into the regions of eternity. 
 
 The Marchioness sternly rebuked her for 
 her horrible suggestion, but it remained upper- 
 most in her mind it worried, harried her, 
 She could not endure her chamber. She felt 
 as though invisible hancls wera dragging her 
 toward her escritoire, and unable to endure 
 the etruggle it cost her to ke*p herself away 
 from it, she rushed into tke garden tc- 
 breathe. 
 
 The air of her chamber sesmed to be laden, 
 with the dank, earthy odor of a vegetable 
 poison. 
 
 Once in the garden, and in the free, freeh 
 air, pacing its graveled walks with her usual 
 stately bearing and queenly step, she felt her- - 
 self able to think, to wish that the Marquis had 
 never been, and that Bertram had always 
 even as when lie first bent his mouth close to 
 her burning cheek and whispered fond and 
 passionate words to her. 
 
 It was a terrible train of thought, for it made 
 the one man appear as a dark, Hateful impedi- 
 ment to her happiness ; and the other, an ob- 
 ject it would be bliss to her to pass the rest of 
 ner life with. 
 
 As this thought rested upon her brain on. 
 its elow way through it, a quick step fell upon 
 
128 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 her ear ; a sharp, firm grip caught her wrist ; 
 a low, hoarse voice whispered in her car : 
 
 ' Constance !" 
 
 She tarnetl Jike lightning. 
 
 Within ft foot of her own was the faca of the 
 man who was then in her thoughts Bertram, 
 EarlofBrackleigh! 
 
 She did not ecream, she <*id not faint, she 
 did notetrnggle to fling off hia vioe-like clutch. 
 She closed her eyes for a moment, and felt as 
 if her whole frame, nerves, veks, blood, were 
 changing into ice. 
 
 For an instant she was like one who had 
 passed the boundary of life, and had entered 
 npon the valley of the shadow of death. 
 
 She lost all recollection, all sense, feeling, 
 touch. 4 
 
 For that one instant the world was a void to 
 htir. 
 
 The next she was conscious of a white face 
 clwse to her own ; of a hoarse, hissing, gibber- 
 ing 5n her ear ; of the shadows of dark trees 
 of -0, God ! the terrible words from the lips 
 ef o j j from whom she had been parted for 
 years > 
 
 " W^Hian, I am your husband !" 
 
 Then,, indeed, she had a terrible struggle 
 with her i motions ; but her power of self-con- 
 trol, exeiUd with a passionate effort, pre- 
 vailed. 
 
 She gaspvd for breath for a moment or twe, 
 and then, obtaining the mastery over her ar- 
 ticulation, eht said, in a low, but clear tone : 
 
 " Release m** ! I will listen to TOU !" 
 
 " Release yo*, Constance! What to fly 
 me, to summon IWip, to bring about that meet- 
 ing in which I, or the man whose name you 
 bear, muct inevitably fall!" 
 
 " Bertram," she sud, in the same tone which 
 was audible, though uttered so faintly, " if you 
 gremember what I was, you will not hesitate to 
 do that which I ask of you. You know that I 
 5id not fear you ; I am unchanged. I do not 
 fear you now." 
 
 " But" 
 
 " Hesitate and I will pour forth shriek 
 upon shriek, in such rapid succession, that 
 your detention will continue to be the act of 
 less than a minute more !" she exclaimed, with 
 determined emphaeis. " I have said I will 
 listen to you when did I ever break my word 
 to you ?' 
 
 " Never never never !" he replied, rapid- 
 ly, and with emotion. " O Constance Con- 
 stance ! how bitterly, how ruthlessly, yon have 
 punished me for my seeming indifference to 
 yon" 
 
 '* Say freezing indifference !" she interposed, 
 with an earnestness equal to his own. " Such 
 a freezing indifference that it froze the first 
 and passionate love of a young, unworldly 
 heart into a mass of impenetrable ice, such as 
 it has remained, even as it is." 
 
 " But I was young a fool, mad, blind, Con- 
 stance !" he rejoined, excitedly. " O Heaven ! 
 if you had but reflected if you had but rea- 
 soned with me if you had not leaped to a 
 false conclusion, and acted upon that conclu- 
 
 sion, what years of surpassing happiness we 
 might have both enjoyed what ye*ra of bliss 
 might be yet before us !" 
 
 A smile of paiu and bitterness moved her 
 lips. 
 
 " You forget," she said, with a sneer, which 
 she did not attempt to conceal, " that I was 
 young, a fool, mad, blind. I awcke to con- 
 sciousness ; I did reflect ; I did reason with 
 you. You know the result." 
 
 "But, good God, Constance, hovr did you 
 reason with me ? ' he expostulated. 
 
 " Ask your own heart that answered me," 
 she returned, turning from him. 
 
 "No by my soul! no, it did not!" he 
 cried, with energy. 
 
 " What!" she exclaimed, turning upon him 
 fiercely ; " do you tell me that your heart 
 had nothing to do with the arrangement at 
 which you jumped with such alacr.ty an ar- 
 rangement which you knew would part us for- 
 ever ?" 
 
 "I have already told you, Constance, that 
 you kave,.from the first instant you conceived 
 the notion that I did not really love yon, mis- 
 understood my character!" she exclaimed, 
 earnestly. She turned from him, impatiently. 
 
 " I repeat it!" he said, vehemently. " Re- 
 member what was my position, and what was 
 yours, at that time. You were the daughter 
 of an enermously wealthy man, proud of his 
 position and his descent, who would have lis- 
 tened to no offer for your hand unless it came 
 from a duke, or, at least, an earl. You knew 
 then, that, had you wedded one beneath the 
 rank which I have named, and without his 
 consent, you knew he would never have re- 
 ceived you again, and would not have left you 
 a penny." 
 
 " Knowing that, I gave my hand to you," 
 she said, emphatically. 
 
 " Ay," he answered quickly, " but in secret, 
 and you preserved that secret closely. You 
 must remember, too, that had I avowed the 
 marriage that we had contracted to my father, 
 he, finding that you, though of birth equal to 
 that of any woman he could have desired as 
 an alliance for me, were without fortune, would 
 have acted with the same harshness to me that 
 Mr. Plaatagenet, your father, would have dis- 
 played to you. We both were conscious that 
 an avowal of our marriage would have prompt- 
 ly plunged us into penury, and to preserve it 
 secret was simply a piece of prudent policy. 
 As a mere piece of common sense, I was then 
 too truly fond of you to desire to place you in 
 a position in which you would have had to 
 suffer pecuniary straits, which were up to that 
 time unknown to you ; but I hoped that the 
 day would come when I should be in a posi- 
 tion to proudly, most proudly, acknowledge 
 you to the world as my wife, and with the as- 
 sent and approbation of your family and " 
 
 " And with this hope you married the rich 
 daughter of a railway navigator," she inter- 
 posed, scornfully. 
 
 He raised his hand deprccatingl^ and con- 
 tinued speaking with emphasis. 
 
OE, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 129 
 
 "Remember, Constance," he said, raising 
 his hand deprecatingly ; "that, at the period 
 of which we are speaking, I never thwarted 
 you in any wish that you expressed, any ca- 
 price that you formed, any intention you an- 
 nounced to me, however much I might in my 
 heart have been opposed to either. You must 
 recollect that you never consulted me in any 
 matter ; you never exhibited a disposition to 
 I do so. You may have acquainted me with 
 ' some design you had in your head ; but you 
 never asked for my approbation or dissent. 
 You carried it out. Well, if you formed an 
 impression that I was selfish, that I consulted 
 only my own pleasures, my own wishes, my 
 own interests, what opportunity did you give 
 me to regard you in any other light ? You 
 acted independent of me to the last." 
 
 " You should have spoken out, then," she 
 exclaimed, quickly. 
 
 " What held you back from then laying bare 
 your heart to me, if, as you say, you loved me 
 with your whole soul ?" he asked, in as eager 
 a tone. 
 
 ' What ?" she exclaimed, scornfully. " What 
 held me back ? Pride ! Would you have had 
 me fall upon my knees before you, when I 
 found that you were ready to give me up, as 
 if I were a garment to be discarded, and say : 
 * Pray, love me still ; what I have suggested is 
 only a subterfuge to try whether you really 
 love me?"' 
 
 "What think you, then, held me back?" 
 he demanded, in his turn, with evident warmth. 
 "Why, pride, too!" Constance, do you not 
 think that I was wholly confounded by your 
 proposition, that I did not listen to yon with 
 bewildered amazement, that I did not eay to 
 to myself: 'This creature, whom I have 
 thought to be one of Heaven's masterpieces, 
 with a nature pure, guileless, loving, and trust- 
 ful, is utterly hear.less ? She proposes to dis- 
 unite hersalf to me, Laving consented to be 
 bound, and having bound herself, in the holiest 
 bonds which could connect us together in life, 
 as calmly as though she were about to suggest 
 a brief separation for the purpose of pleasure- 
 travel, and she, therefore, cannot care for me 
 one straw. She does not, and, in all probabil 
 ity, iiever did love me!' Do you think that 
 I was not stung into silence by your proposi- 
 tion, that I did consent to its provisions like 
 one in a dream, that, heart-crushed by the past, 
 reckless of the future, I took the fatal step 
 which has utterly destroyed my happiness, and 
 induced me t trample upon that of one other 
 being whom I now feel, bitterly, I ought not 
 to have dragged down from a position of honor 
 and felicity, to one of misery aad degrada- 
 tion?" 
 
 " You speak of Lady Brackleigh," observed 
 the Marchioness, with a sneer. 
 
 "1 do!" ho said, firmly. 
 
 a It is a pity," she added, in the same tone, 
 " that you. who are so tender of her honor, 
 were not as tenacious of that of others, even of 
 your own." 
 
 " I thought less of my honor than of grati- 
 
 fying your wishes, even to an extentwhich haa 
 c eprived us both of happiness !" with an evi- 
 dent desire to impress upon her that his con- 
 duct in agreeing to a separation from her was 
 guided by a desire to gratify her wish in every- 
 thing. 
 
 She shook her head doubtingly, although 
 she would have heen glad to have believed that 
 euch was the case ay, even though she knew 
 that such a belief would have added to the 
 misery of her position. 
 
 " You should have had faith in my truth- 
 fulness, Bertram !" she exclaimed, in "a more 
 pensive tone than she had yet used; "you 
 would then have questioned me closely, and 
 have elicited enough to have saved both from 
 the horrors of our present position." 
 
 " Your truthfulness, Constance !" he respond- 
 ed, in a tone which made her wince and start 
 as though he had drawn a sharp knife across 
 her heart. 
 
 There was something so sarcastic, so ques- 
 tioning in its expression, that she could not 
 help looking upon him with a gaze of indig- 
 nant wonder. 
 
 " You appear to question my truthfulness I" 
 she said, with compressed lips ; " surely you 
 have tested it within the last ten years, and 
 should speak of it in terms of commendation." 
 
 " We were speaking of a period yet farther 
 back, Constance,'"' he said, dryly. 
 
 " Yet farther back !" she repeated, turning 
 her flashing eyes upon him. " What would 
 you dare insinuate ?" 
 
 " Insinuate nothing !" he exclaimed, sudden- 
 ly seizing her hand, and speaking in an im- 
 pressive tone. " Constance, you are my wife 
 in the eyes of God ; you were made my wife 
 before the altar of God, by a Divine law, which 
 ia rendered sacred by human laws. Now con- 
 vince me of your truthfulness, and answer me 
 with the truth only, before that God who now 
 looks down upon us, and in whose presence 
 we must some day together stand answer ine 
 before Him and as my wife!" 
 
 She drew back from him amazed, not fearing 
 astounded, not terrified. She had no con- 
 ception of the nature of the question he was 
 about to put to her, and she marveled at hia 
 tone, for he had said that he was about to 
 speak to her of a time anterior to her marriage 
 with the Marquis. 
 
 She was not long kept in bewilderment 
 
 He spuke with rapid and passionate earnest- 
 ness : 
 
 ' You will remember, Constance," he said, 
 his voice quivering as he spoke, " that some 
 few months after we were married, you com- 
 plained of a slight indisposition " 
 
 " It is oo far back." 
 
 " Your pardon, do not interrupt me. You 
 complained, I say, of being ill, of suffering 
 from an attack of nervous debility. You con- 
 sulted, you told me, a physician who had rec- i 
 ommended to you change of air. He had sug- 
 gested the south of France. Nice, Italy, even 
 Madeira, but you found objections to ail these 
 places. The reasons with which you furnish- 
 
130 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 ed me were, that the distance of each from 
 London was BO great, it would entail too loog 
 and t.to wide a separation from me ; and you 
 mentioned Beachboroq^h Abbey. By Hea- 
 vens ! you Ht.n t ! I will not release you not 
 thong i jon break your wrist in your efforts to 
 wrench, your hand" from mine. You must 
 you shall l}ear me, and answer me now. Ay, 
 and truthfully, too." 
 
 Constance grew as pale as ashes and as cold 
 as death, and trembled like an aspen. It was 
 in vain that she exerted herself to appear 
 calm. A ter her first attempt to wrest her 
 hand from his, all strength, all power to strug- 
 gle even to support herself, eeeined to have 
 left her. 
 
 She was both amazed and terrified now, for 
 she had a fearful presentiment of what was 
 coming. 
 
 Bertram, finding her apparently motionless, 
 presumed that ebe, on discovering that it 
 would be useless to struggle with him, decided 
 that is would be beat to remain quiet: he 
 therefore, almost fiercely : 
 
 44 You, I say, mentioned Beachborough Ab- 
 bey as the place in which you would prefer to 
 take up your abode for a time. You proceed- 
 ed thither. You stayed there for a few 
 months. Yo*a took with you only your confi- 
 dential maid and foster-sister, Shelley. While 
 thtre, woman wife you had a child." 
 
 She groaned, and swayed to and fro, as if 
 she would, but for his firm grasp of her hand, 
 fall senseless upon the ground. 
 
 '* You had a child, Constance my child and 
 yours," fce repeated, with vehemence, though 
 in an undertone. " Answer me truthfully, as 
 you hope for the salvation of your soul, was it 
 not EO?" 
 
 " Are you sure that you observed Lady 
 Westcheeter saunter in this direction?" sud- 
 denly exclaimed a voice near to them. 
 
 " Quite positive, my Lord," replied a female 
 voics. 
 
 *' Then her ladyship must be somewhere 
 near this spat," continued the first voice. 
 
 " Almighty Heavtn!" gasped the Marchion- 
 ess, with a sadden spasm of fright. " Shield 
 me, Bertram. It is the Marquij I" 
 
 Bertram shifted sullenly his hand from its 
 hold of hers ; he grasped her round the waist, 
 drawing her to his breast, and with an air of 
 desperation, he turned to face the advancing 
 pseudo-husband of his wife. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 " Love is a fervent fire 
 Kindled by hot desire; 
 For a short pleasure, 
 Long displeasure, 
 Repentance, is the hire ; 
 A poor treasure 
 Wi:hout measure; 
 Love is a fet vent fire. 
 Lo ! what it is to love !" 
 
 SIB THOMAS WTATT. 
 O those few dreadful moments I 
 The Marchioness stood cloee to Bertram ; 
 eo close that bhe could feel the beating of his 
 heart. 
 
 In the imminence of her peril she was con- 
 scious of that. 
 
 The certainty that there would within an in- 
 stant's time be a terrible eclaircisscmcnt, a 
 wild, stormy alterca'ion, a sant^uioary combat, 
 did Dot BO itbaorb bar attention tht the vio- 
 lent pulsation throbbing againet her sniveling 
 shoulder etcuped her notice. 
 
 She knew that it was hia heart whose vibra- 
 tions were so perceptible to her tbat sbe could 
 scarce have counted them, and the knowledge 
 thrdled her, even to the marrow. 
 
 Yee, she Bcood with her first love, half- 
 embraced, expecting each moment to be dis- 
 covered by the man whose marriage with her 
 she had converted into the most humiliating 
 shame. 
 
 They stood quite in the shadow of an enor- 
 mous arbutus, and tney stood silent and mo- 
 tionless. 
 
 Constance heard the measured step of the 
 Marquis; she knew its sound; she detected, 
 too, by the tone of his voice, that he was in 
 an angry, bitter mood a mood which would 
 make the discovery, which she felt to be on 
 the eve of taking place, only yet more terri- 
 ble. 
 
 Nearer and nearer he came; the gravel 
 crackled and grated beneath his foot as he 
 stepped. She saw his shadow fall on the grass 
 where they were standing like statues, breath- 
 less and erect not crouching, though that 
 might have been the more fitting attitude for 
 them. 
 
 Nearer s'.ill and nearer moved the shadow 
 toward them. She felt cold and sick. 
 
 Another moment the Marquia stood before 
 her, and turned his face to her. 
 
 A wild, maddened shiiek trembled upon her 
 lips, but ere it could quit them the Marquia 
 turned hia face awsy and passed on beyond 
 them out of their eight. 
 
 They had looked out from a spot obscured 
 by deep shadows, and they Raw him wiih hor- 
 rify irg distinctness; he looked into darkness, 
 and saw nothing. 
 
 He was naturally rear sighted, and his eye- 
 eight was not so good now as it had been. The 
 obscurity into which he gazed, into which, in- 
 deed, he seemed to peer with a penetrating 
 look, was a mere void, a blank blackness. 
 
 Still another footstep, accompanied by the 
 rustle of a drees. 
 
 A moment more, and the Marchioness' 
 maid, Fate, appeared. 
 
 She, too, looked into the obscurity, and 
 started she placed a finger upon her lipe, 
 and parsed on. 
 
 She had seen him. She knew that the Earl 
 was in the garden, for she had given Nat a 
 key of one of the gates for him, but she did 
 not know the precise spot in which he bad ee- 
 creted himself. She was very anxious, how- 
 ever, to discover it, for she had a fear that, if 
 the Earl were to be found in the girden, when 
 the subsequent investigations took phce ehe 
 would be implicated in the affair, and punish- 
 ed in some awful manner. 
 
OR, THE FATE OP THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 131 
 
 Bfour she knew the epot, and the fact that 
 the Earl and the Marehionees were together, 
 she resolved to conduct the M.*rquis in such a 
 direction that he would not only not return to 
 the piice wkere they were concealed, but 
 that e ue would drive him off the scent alto- 
 gether. 
 
 She, therefore, talked to him in rather a 
 loud tone of voice, which he reproved, but 
 without effect, and Constance and Bertram 
 were therelore enabled to teJl, by the sound of 
 her voice, the direction the Mirquis was tak- 
 ing, and how far he was from them. 
 
 It was a narrow escape, and they both knew 
 it to be such ; and ween ihe sound of Fane's 
 voice died away, they both drew a deep breath 
 of relief. 
 
 Impulsively the Earl drew her to his breast, 
 and passionately embraced her. For a mo- 
 ment she yielded her form to the pressure of 
 his encircling arms ; and then, with a hoarse 
 cry, she broke away from him, and bury- 
 ing ber face in her hands, she stood shudder- 
 ing. 
 
 He would once more have twined his arms 
 about her waist, and have breathed soft ac- 
 cents in her ear, but she passionately flung 
 his hand away, drew hereelf up erect, and 
 faced him. 
 
 " Let me pass," she said, in unsteady tones, 
 though she would fain have spoken with firm- 
 ness and decision. " We have already in- 
 curred a dreadful risk, do not let us provoke 
 Fate." 
 
 ** No 1" he responded ; " for years I have 
 Bought to conciliate Fate, a d have failed. I 
 am prepared now to dare and defy it. You 
 cannot lea me until we have at least cleared 
 ap one strange mystery, still existing between 
 you and me, between whom there should be 
 no secrets. I have epoken to you respecting 
 your illness at Beachborough Abbey " 
 
 " Bertram 1" she cried, excitedjy ; "from 
 the firsc moment we met, you have beeneelfish 
 to the last degree. Mercilessly so. Show me 
 some mercy now, and let me Jeave you." 
 
 41 1 cannot nay, I will not!'' he cried, with 
 closed teeth ; " not if Westehester were here, 
 and demanded you from me. I must, and I 
 will know tae truth of thia strange matter, and 
 from your lips." 
 
 "You will drive me frantic !" she exclaim- 
 ed. 
 
 " I am desperate," he returned, with a kind 
 of starn ferocity. 
 
 " You make me desperate, *.oo," she utter- 
 ed, in a low tone, which curiously resembled 
 his own. 
 
 " Be it so. It is well that we should know 
 each other's mood," he answered. '* Speak 
 I have put to you a question answer it!" 
 
 "What question!" she demanded, with an 
 expression, and in a voice he did not like. 
 
 " I have told you, that you, while suffering 
 from an artaek of illness, proceeded to Beach 
 borough Abbey." 
 
 " I have Lot'denied that" 
 " And that while there" 
 
 " You will repent, Bertram, having subject- 
 ed me to this humiliating examination." 
 
 "I will repent nothing, but having suffered 
 fou to leave me, to enter upon, and to drag 
 me with you, into thia most damnable drama, 
 n which we have acted the principal charac- 
 ters !" he cried, evidently deeply excited. ** I 
 nsist upon your answering ine, and doing so 
 truthfully." 
 
 " Proceed !'' she answered, in an icy tone. 
 
 " I tell you, that while at Beach borough Ab- 
 bey you were delivered of a child our child, 
 onstance. Speak, I entreat you ; this ia 
 true, is it not?" 
 
 ' It is not !" she returned, emphatically, but 
 with bitter coldness. 
 
 He started back from her amazed. 
 
 " Not true !" he repeated, with an astounded 
 air. 
 
 ' It is not true,'' she answered, firmly. 
 
 'You confound me," he ejaculated, with 
 almost breathless wonder. " Why, I have not 
 only received this tale from authority which I 
 bave a right to consider undoubted, but I 
 have eeen Been Constance, with my owa 
 eyes-" j 
 
 " I care neither for your authority, what you 
 have heard, nor what you have seen," the re- 
 sponded, in the same frigid tone, enforced and 
 sustained with a singular power. " My author- 
 ity, at least, ought to have the greatest weight 
 ith you." "Bat I have proofs." he urged. | 
 
 Her lip curled with iuS wondrous scornful 
 expression. 
 
 "Proofs?" she iterated. "Where are' 
 they ?" j 
 
 ' The girl Shelley, your foster-sister, wa^ 
 with you at the time of your confinement," he* 
 rejoined. " She afterward had the child in 
 her custody, and " 
 
 The Marchioness waved her hand. 
 
 " If you are bent on immediate destruction, ' 
 I am not !" she said, sternly. " It is my in- 
 tention immediately to leave you ; and while 
 I despise your threats, I will dare all your ef- 
 forts to stay me " 
 
 "Conttance! Constance!'' he cried, cfepre- 
 catingly, " this is not the tone ia which you 
 should speak to me " 
 
 " Listen to me," she said, sternly and im- i 
 patently, apparently not heeding his pleading 
 tone. " Since you appear so deeply interested 
 in this story, I will reveal circumstances to 
 you, and to you only to you, because I feel 
 that you are the only being living who has the 
 shadow of a claim to demand of me the sur- 
 render of what I have hitherto retained as a 
 profound secret, locked up in my own breast. , 
 I was ill soon after we were married, I admit. 
 Was it etrange? I was a young girl, ecarcely i 
 emancipated from school, ihe heroine of a se- ; 
 cret marriage, bound to keep that secret un- 
 known to every one, save those who were ac- 
 tive parties to it. It was natural that my mind 
 should be troubled by the responsibility 
 which I had iacunrd, and that the harraeeiog 
 anxiety, increased by your apathy and jour 
 growing indifference to" me" 
 
132 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 " No, Constance, not indifference 1" 
 
 " What matters it, if it assumed that senti- 
 ment so cloeely in appearance that it was not 
 impossible for me to accept it for anything 
 else? I fell into a nervo'is, desponding state, 
 a condition of depressive debility, which soon 
 became perceptible to my parents, who in- 
 stantly sought advice. A change of scene 
 was recommended. I selected Beachborough 
 Abbey, and I gave you truthful reasons for 
 that choice, although now you spurn them " 
 
 " No I wish only to know " 
 
 " The truth ; you shall have it," sharply 
 responded the Marchioness. " I went to 
 Beachborough Abbey, and while there I made 
 the unhappy discovery that poor poor Fan- 
 nypoor" 
 
 The Marchioness covered her face suddenly 
 with her handkerchief, and sobbed violently, 
 pasrionately, for a minute. 
 
 At that moment, she remembered with an 
 agony so intense, BO acute, that all attempts 
 to describe it would be puerile, that Fanny 
 Shelley had sacrificed her life for her, and 
 that she was about to repay that devotion 
 how? 
 
 The Earl gazed upon her with surprise 
 and distress; He did not, however, attempt 
 to interfere with this severe ebullition of emo- 
 tioft ; he let it hold its sway unchecked. He 
 knew the nature of Constance, indeed, too well 
 to attempt any interference with her while 
 thus moved ; he, therefore, remained motion- 
 less and silent. 
 
 The unexpected burst of weeping passed 
 away almout abruptly as it came. She, with 
 an angry, impatient hand, removed the traces 
 of her tears from her eyelids, and turned her 
 white face to him. 
 
 " You will pardon my weakness," she said, 
 in a voice which still needed firmness of 
 tone; "Fanny Shelley was my foster-sister. 
 She was humble and dependent, but fai 
 faithful to to a degree. You, Bertram, 
 may bear testimony to that virtue which she 
 possessed." 
 
 "I do, with my whole heart!" he cried, 
 warmly. " I only deeply regret her death." 
 
 The Marchioness abruptly turned her back 
 to him. 
 
 There was a dead silence for an instant; 
 then Constance moved slowly round, and laced 
 him again. 
 
 "She was my foster-sister," she resumed, 
 evidently speaking with some difficulty ; 
 " and she was the only woman I ever 
 1-Moved!" 
 
 She paused again. And then, as if by a 
 desperate effort, she proceeded with more firm- 
 ness and some rapidity : 
 
 " She loved me with a devotion I have no 
 words to describe, and she was so attentive to 
 my wishes, BO thoughtful of my wauts, BO 
 ready to serve me in any way, at any moment, 
 that it was not possible for me to help being 
 attached to her. She accompanied me to 
 Beachborough ; I saw th&t she, too, was ill 
 very ill very dejected indeed, very unhap- 
 
 py. I questioned her closely, and at last eha 
 confessed to me that she had been pursued by 
 a young nobleman, one of your class, Ber- 
 tram ; that, after having for some lengthened 
 period withstood his importunities, his profes- 
 sions of love, and his wildly-uttered never-to- 
 be-redeemed promises for she had a lover 
 prepared to marry her, whenever she chose 
 t ascent she in some unhappy moment fell, 
 and she was then about to become a moth- 
 er." 
 
 She paused, and breathed deeply. 
 
 Then she subjoined rapidly : 
 
 " What more would you have mo to a*y, 
 Bertram ? A child was born ; I assisted her 
 to keep this secret, this terrible misfortune. 
 The infant was conveyed away from Beach- 
 borough without discovery. We returned to 
 London. I found you more careless, more in- 
 different to me than ever. Nay, it is useless 
 to interrupt me. I know what I saw and wliat 
 I felt. I need not refer to what followed. You 
 know why I parted with Fanny Shelley. I 
 settled an income on her, and we parted for- 
 ever. The poor, misguided, foolish girl, after 
 quitting me, returned to Beachborough to her 
 parents, and took her child with her. You 
 appear to know what happened subsequently. 
 For that error, and for all other unfortunate 
 matters connected with it, I am, therefore, in 
 no way responsible. I have finished. You 
 now know what value to place upon the story 
 you have heard, and in what light to look upoa 
 your informant." 
 
 She ceased, and looked at him furtively, but 
 anxiously. 
 
 He returned her look with one of speechless 
 wonder. 
 
 He had not previously doubted that Hagar 
 Lot, whom, however, he had known under a 
 very different name, had made herself, out of a 
 desire for revenge, mistress of all the facts ; 
 and he would have declared so, but he could 
 not give her up as his authority bis acquaint- 
 ance with her would not bear inquiring into, 
 certainly by Constance, and, therefore, he was 
 unable to eay to her, ' Why, your own instru- 
 ment, used for the disposal of the child, has 
 revealed all to me ? " 
 
 There was something, however, so very 
 plausible, so very feasible in the statement of 
 the Marchioness, that he felt strongly inclined 
 to believe it, the more as he could not com- 
 prehend her motive in originally concealing 
 the truth from him. Still, he could not hide 
 from himself that the young lady whom he 
 had seen at hia own mansion bore a most re- 
 markable reeemblance to Constance a resem- 
 blance so striking that it would be difficult to 
 account for it in any other way than by a tie 
 of affinity. 
 
 " I confess," he presently said, in a tono of 
 slight hesitation, " that your explanation ap- 
 pears to me to be perfectly natural : for what 
 motive, had it pleased Heaven to bless us with 
 an offspring, could you have had in conceal- 
 ing the fact?" 
 
 " What motive, indeed?" she obaerred with- 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 133 
 
 out an effort to disguise the contemptuous 
 earl of her lip. 
 
 "Because," he continued, thoughtfully, 
 without noticing the expression of scorn upon 
 her features, " although you had sound rea- 
 sons for keeping that important circumstance 
 hidden from the world, you had no reason 
 whatever to disguise it from me." 
 
 " None whatever," she exclaimed, with the 
 same disdainful glance. 
 
 " Yet," he added, with a perplexed look at 
 her, " 1 have already had an interview with a 
 young person who, I have reason to believe, ia 
 the child of whom we have been speaking." 
 
 "The child of Fanny Shelley," responded 
 the Marchioness, in a somewhat fainter tone. 
 
 " Ah well yes, if I place faith in your 
 assertion," he replied, still hesitating ; " but 
 she bears such an extraordinary resemblance 
 to you." 
 
 " To me ? " 
 
 "To you, Constance a most remarkable 
 likeness," he returned, speaking in an impress- 
 ive manner. 
 
 "Are you sure?" ehe exclaimed, with a 
 curl of scorn still upon her lip. 
 
 "How could I be mistaken?" he answered, 
 elevating his eyebrows. She is young, tall, 
 beautifully formed, and with a most graceful 
 carriage such, indeed, as you were when I 
 first met with and was entranced by you." 
 
 " Flattery from your lips, Lord Brackleigh, 
 is embarrassing tD me," she' observed, with a 
 sneer which made him wince ; " in what you 
 may further have to communicate to me, I 
 besr of you to avoid it." 
 
 He reddened and bowe*d. 
 
 " I intended to say that ehe is, in feature 
 and form, the counterpart of what you were 
 when we first met," he subjoined. 4> She has 
 the same, shaped features, the same colored 
 eyes and hair, even the tone of her voice re- 
 sembles yours in its intonation." 
 
 "A coincidence," remarked the Marchioness, 
 impatiently. " Fanny Sbelley was passion- 
 ately attached to me. I was, I may almost 
 say, her sole thought ; that her child should 
 be like me, is surely not so astonishing !" 
 
 "But her air, her mien, her carriage ?" he 
 arged. 
 
 Her father was a nobleman," exclaimed the 
 Marchioness, turning away from him with a 
 vexed and impatient manner. 
 
 He looked at her earnestly, and then said, 
 questioningly: 
 
 "I am to believe you, I suppose, Con- 
 stance?" She turned abruptly to him. 
 
 " To me," she said, " that is a matter ot in- 
 difference now. You have been pleased to 
 affect some degree of ardent attachment for 
 me ; yet my word, in a matter in which you 
 admit yourself I cannot possibly have any mo- 
 tive for concealment, you distrust. I there- 
 fore know not what value to set upon your 
 protestations of unalteied affection." 
 
 " Yo\i have decided me, Constance," he ex- 
 claimed with a sudden emphasis. " I must 
 have been a fool to doubt you. Nay, if I had 
 
 for an instance reflected, I, who know your 
 nature so well, might have been convinced 
 that, whatever might have been the induce- 
 ments, however powerful the reasons urging 
 you, you would never have been guilty of 
 consigning your poor little innocent babe to 
 the mercy of strangers to a life of vicissi- 
 tude, penury, perhaps crime. Such barbarity 
 would have been absolutely inhuman, and 
 therefore it is not possible for you to have 
 been its mother " 
 
 " I am faint and weak this conversation 
 wearies and fatrgues me beyond expression," 
 she interrupted, with blanched cheeks and 
 lips ; " bring yoiir remarks to a close, I en- 
 treat you, and let me depart." 
 
 " I will not much longer detain you," he re- 
 plied. " Let me, however, assure you, that I 
 fully believe your assertion, and that I have 
 entire faith in you ; and now let me close this 
 part of the subject of our conference, by ex- 
 pressing my delight at finding the information 
 which I had received respecting you to be 
 false. Other communications, intended to 
 have placed you in a horrible light, in my 
 eyes, are unquestionably false ; but as I can 
 trace a motive to these assertions in a hatred 
 of you, so I can now, with satisfaction to My- 
 self, despise them." v 
 
 "Who is my assailant?" asked the Mar- 
 chioness, eyeing him curiously. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, and answered 
 evasively. 
 
 "One unworthy your notice. One word 
 more where do you imagine that I met thia 
 child of Shelley's ?" 
 
 She started, and darted upon him in an eager 
 look of inquiry. 
 
 " I cannot imagine," she replied, hastily. 
 "Where?" 
 
 He smiled strangely, as he answered. 
 
 " In my own house." 
 
 She recoiled from him with amazement. 
 
 "Even in Brackleigh Mansion," he contin- 
 ued. " I found her there accidentally, in a 
 room adjoining my study. She was attired in 
 a costume precisely similar to that worn by 
 you when you sac for a miniature of youraelf, 
 painted for me, and which I still have. On 
 entering the room, ehe looked up at me. I 
 was never so startled in my life ; for an in- 
 stant I was carried back years, and I even be- 
 lieved it was yourself whom I was address- 
 ing." 
 
 Her lips moved, but no sound issued from 
 them. M 
 
 " Yes, Constance would you suppose it, 
 this child, BO remarkable in its history, is now! 
 a protegee of Lady Brackleigh?" | 
 
 "Of Lady Brackleigh 1" she murmured,? 
 faintly. " How- how could she possibly have ^ 
 fallen under her notice ?" she gasped. 
 
 " Well, in truth, I cannot answer that ques- t 
 tion," he returned, musingly. " There has 
 has been something very odd in Lady Braek- 
 leigh's manner, and in her movements, since 
 we first met, after our double marriage, at 
 Maddressfield Castle, when, oddly enough, we 
 
184 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 were introduced to each other. She has from 
 that time acted independently of me, and in 
 frequent defiance of my wish ; but, as I never 
 cared a straw for her, I never perservered in 
 any opposition to her whims." 
 
 " Her whims," repeated Constance, with an 
 increased pulsation of the heart, " what form 
 did those whiroa take ?" 
 
 She was thinking of Floret's presence in 
 Brackleigh Mansion when she put that ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " A desire to move about the country, in 
 ay direction she thought fit, without consult- 
 ing me. I happened to decide upon going to 
 "Wiltshire at one period you remember when ; 
 upon my return, I found that she had been to 
 Wiltshire too. I know not what part, but there 
 she had been, although she said that she had 
 been to some other place. I met her, too, 
 once very unexpectedly at Brighton-" 
 
 "At Brighton!" ejaculated the Marchion- 
 ess, abruptly. 
 
 "Ah!" rejoined Bertram, thoughtfully, 
 " that reminds me of the singular remarks 
 she made to me when she entered the room, 
 while I was speaking to the child of " 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know," interposed the Mar- 
 chioness, impatiently. 
 
 "By the way," he said, abruptly, "Iliad 
 for the moment forgotten the name which this 
 peculiar child has adopted. What do you 
 imagine it to be ?" 
 
 " I cannoli conceive !" returned Constance, 
 hardly able to force out the words. 
 , " Edith Plantagenet !" he answered. 
 
 She looked at him incredulously. 
 
 "It is impossible. You have been imposed 
 upon," she said, hoarsely, without knowing 
 what fell from her lips. 
 
 " O, but 1 had it from her own lips," he re- 
 plied, quickly. " Of course, the moment I 
 beheld her I requested her to give me her 
 name. I was greatly excited by her resem- 
 blance to you, and when she informed me that 
 it was Edith Plantagenet, you may imagine 
 what my emotions were. It was natural that 
 I should then imagine that a child of ruy own 
 stood before me, of whose existence I had pre- 
 viously no knowledge, nor even any concep- 
 tion." 
 
 I " She has no right to bear that name. She 
 Khali not. I will tear it from her I" exclaimed 
 the Marchioness, quivering and trembling with 
 excessive emotion. 
 
 "Calm yourself, Constance," said Ber- 
 tram, assuming a soft tenderness of tone ; " it 
 shall be my task to prevent her troubling you 
 any more." 
 
 " If you do this, you will have a claim to 
 my everlasting gratitude," she exclaimed, with 
 an eager fervor which had an instant influence 
 over him. 
 
 t "You have said sufficient, Constance, to 
 compel me to win that gratitude," he replied, 
 with enthusiatm. " I will, on my return home, 
 atrip the jay of her feathers, and order her to 
 be removed from my mansion. I am at least 
 master there." 
 
 " Does your does Lad 7 Brackleigh know 
 aught of our early connection, Btrtram?" 
 she aoked, abruptly, but in an earnest tone. 
 
 " Nothing certain, I believe," he said, in 
 reply ; " but she suspects, that's clear." 
 
 "The truth?" inquired the Marchion- 
 ess. 
 
 "Judge!" he returned. "When she joined 
 me while conversing with Edith, Shelley's " 
 
 "Name Her not, but proceed. I know'whom 
 you mean," exclaimed the Marchioness, pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 44 Even so," he rejoined. ' Well, Constance, 
 while I was speaking with her, Lady Brack- 
 leigh joined us. She, with coneiderable ex- 
 citement, bade me look on the girl's face, and 
 as she did so she informed me that she was 
 born at Beachborough in thirty-three, and she 
 requested me to remember how I passed the 
 fifth of December, eighteen hundred and thir- 
 ty-two, at Brighton." 
 
 "It is the very day!" ejaculated the Mar- 
 chioness. " She must know all!" 
 
 " I believe she does," rejoined the Earl. 
 "The time for action, therefore, has come. 
 Will you wait quietly here while the net is 
 drawn tightly over, BO that escape will be im- 
 possible ? or, Constance, will you dare the 
 world's criticism, and, relying upon my undy- 
 ing love " 
 
 A shadow fell across them as he uttered 
 those words, and a rapid footstep approach- 
 ing compelled him to suspend his speech. 
 
 Another moment Fane stood before them. 
 
 " May it please your ladyship," she said, in 
 swift tones, and evidently greatly flurried, 
 "the Marquis seems in great uneasiness f 
 mind abouc your ladyship. My Lord wishes 
 to see your ladyship, and he has been search- 
 ing in every direction for you. I have con- 
 ducted him to every place I could think of, 
 but he is not satisfied ; he will search the gar- 
 den again. I said I thought your ladyship 
 might be in the summer-house ; there is the 
 key of it, your ladyship. The Marquis is 
 coming this way now, Sir. Behind this tree 
 there is a long strip of grass ; there is a door 
 in the wall a little way down ; it ?eads into an- 
 other garden. Your servant is there waiting 
 to show you a way out where nobody will no- 
 tice you. O uay Lady, the Marquis isn't 
 twenty yards from this part !" 
 
 The Marchioness moved hastily away. 
 
 "I shall know how to communicate with 
 you," whispered the Earl, as he pressed her 
 hand, and darted behind the tree, taking the 
 direction which Fane had given. 
 
 Fane returned to meet the Marquis and ac- 
 company him to the summer-house. Her pre- 
 tence for leaving him was that sh* had to find 
 the key of the summer-house. She intended 
 to inform him, on reaching him, that ic was 
 not to be found. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOft 
 
 135 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " Pk ad Tith the swift frost 
 That should spare the eldest flower of spring ; 
 Plead with a wakening earthquake, o'er whose couch 
 ETCH now a city stands, fair, joung, and free; 
 New stench and blackness ;a*n, like deatk. plead 
 With famine, or wind-walking pestilence, 
 Blind lightning, or the deaf tea. not with man ! 
 Cruel, cold, foi mal man ! righteous in words, 
 In deeds a Cain." SHKLLIT. 
 
 When the Earl of Brackleigh had discov- 
 ered the door described to him by Fane, the 
 attendant of the Marchioness, he found it 
 ajar. He pushed it gently open, and passing 
 through the doorway, he saw Nat standing in 
 an expectant attitude, awaiting his coming. 
 
 "The way out Quick!" exclaimed the 
 Ear], in rapid, but low accents. 
 
 Nat touched his hat, and with light but 
 nknble steps struck down a narrow path along 
 a kitchen- garden, and thence, through a 
 second door, into a stable-yard of somewhat 
 considerable dimensions. 
 
 He glanced hastily round him, but there 
 appeared to be nobody about, and he pro- 
 ceeded on cautiously, but hastily, until he 
 conducted the Earl abruptly into a busy 
 thoroughfare. 
 
 The Earl instantly engaged a street- cab, 
 and returned to Brackleigh Mansion. On 
 reaching it, he proceeded direct to his study, 
 and, throwing himeelf on a couch, he proceed- 
 ed to collect his thoughts. 
 
 He felt greatly elated at having seen the 
 Marchioness. He had not been startled, as he 
 Eomewhat anticipated, by the inroads which 
 time had made upon her appearance. She 
 was still fair and beautiful, with a complexion 
 that eeemed quite transparent, and a mien 
 that an empress might have envisd. 
 
 The charms with which a heated imagina- 
 tion had invested her did not disappear, 
 when he turned his eager eyes upon her face 
 and form. He saw that she was changed, in- 
 deed, from the young, slight, proud, almost 
 child-like girl, whose step had the grae, the 
 lightness, and the elasticity of that of a favn ; 
 but the features which he had recognized and 
 admired in her girlhood seemed only now to 
 have become matured. Care, it is true, was 
 imprinted on her face ; but that served, in his 
 eyes, to endow her with a spiritual look, 
 which increased rather than detracted from 
 her loveliness. 
 
 In truth, the interview had not had the ef- 
 fect of weakening the passion which, of late 
 years, had been fostered by memory and imag- 
 ination only ; on the contrary, it had con- 
 firmed &11 his speculations, and rendered his 
 desire to be reunited to ker fiercer than ever. 
 
 Ha went carefully, thoughttully, and as 
 calmly as he could, over all the topics which 
 had been diecuesed at their recent interview, 
 and he btlitved that their consideration con- 
 ducted him to a proper understanding of the 
 position in which he was placed, and the 
 hazards which beset and surrounded the path 
 lie was bent upon taking. 
 
 The result of his reflections was a determi- 
 nation to realize as much money as he could 
 
 from his personal property, place his affairs 
 and estates in the hands of a shrewd, firm, 
 legal man of business, and when that was done, 
 to apprise the Marchioness of his arrange- 
 ments, and elope with her to Norway ; or 
 some place which had not completed with 
 England an extradition treaty. 
 
 He decided, upon reflection, not to commu- 
 nicate with Constance until he had matured 
 his plans, and they were n the eve of accom. 
 plishment. He had the sharpness to compre- 
 hend that it would be his moat prurient step 
 to make a confidant of no person, and he de- 
 signed to hint, rather than to say openly to 
 the solicitor whom he intended to employ, 
 that he desired the affairs intrusted to him 
 should be carried out swiftly and secretly. 
 
 The Marchioness had successfully con- 
 vinced him that Floret was not bis child, and 
 he determined to contrive an interview with 
 the latter on the following morning, to disa- 
 buse her mind of any impression to that effect, 
 if she entertained it. He had no doubt that, 
 by some casual, but yet extraordinary acci- 
 dent, the Countess had discovered her, and, 
 struck by her resemblance to Constance, had, 
 like her sex, immediately leaped to a conclu- 
 sion that she was her child and his. Im- 
 pressed by this conceit, he thought it not un- 
 natural that she should secure possession of 
 Floret until she could place hereelf in a posi- 
 tion to prove that her suspicions were cor- 
 rect, and he resolved, by an appeal to the 
 girl's common sense, as he expressed himeelf 
 mentally, to convince her of the wildnesa of 
 the Countess's conjecture, and to point out to 
 her the impropriety of remaining a moment 
 longer beneath his roof, as she had heard 
 from his Hpa a positive denial of paternity, 
 either in the case of the Marchioness or of him- 
 self. 
 
 He summoned Nat, and bade him ascer- 
 tain whether a young lady who had been 
 staying with the Marchioness on a visit was 
 jet with her. 
 
 Nat, who bad an eye to business, and that 
 " stunning public", had already assured him- 
 self of that fact, and was employing every 
 stratagem he could devise to obtain a few 
 minutes' conversation 'with her alone. The 
 Countees had, as yet, been too sharp for Mm ; 
 that is to say, her maid, who bad, from Nat's 
 first arrival at Brackleigh. Maneion, enter- 
 tained the strongest suspicion of his integrity, 
 and had nourished an instinctive aversion to 
 him, was, in the interests of her mistress, too 
 sharp for him. 
 
 She had detected him prowling about the 
 Countess's suite of apartments, and she kept 
 her eye constantly upon him, so that he 
 could not make his appearance in any epot 
 where he thought it likely Florot, might ap- 
 pear unaccompanied by any one, but he found 
 her at his elbow. 
 
 He was, therefore, in a position to imme- 
 ^iuuily give to the Earl the information for 
 <hich he had asked. On receiving it, the 
 Bad immediately rejoined : 
 
136 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 " Ascertain to-morrow morning whether the 
 young lady of whom I have been speaking 
 enters the sitting -room which adjoins the li- 
 brary ; the moment ahe does BO, acquaint me 
 with it." 
 
 Nat was delighted with these instructions, 
 because he thought it would give him a 
 right to be moving about in that part of the 
 mansion where Subtle was perpetually cross- 
 ing him and snubbing him for being there. 
 "With a very decided intention of keeping his 
 promise, he assured the Earl that the yourg 
 lady should not enter " that 'ere'' room with- 
 out his being promptly informed of the fact. 
 
 In the morning he was early astir ; so was 
 Subtle, and she wanted to know why he kept 
 on " poking his nose where he hadn't ought 
 to" at that early hour of the day. 
 
 Chawing a email piece cf straw, he answer- 
 ed, with an air of the coolest confidence : 
 
 " Ax the hurl." 
 
 She looked at him steadfastly and penetrat- 
 ingly, but bis was not a countenance quite so 
 guileless that any one could read upon his 
 cheek what was passing in his brain. She, 
 therefore, retired, and informed the Countess 
 of what had transpired, with her own opinions 
 thereon. 
 
 The Countess reflected for a few minutes, 
 and then determined to see Nat herself, and 
 put him through a course of examination. She 
 made no reply to Subtle, but abruptly quitted 
 the room, and pounced suddenly upon him be- 
 fore he coulo. avoid her, which he certainly 
 would have done if the slightest chance had 
 presented itself. 
 
 A few brief, rapid questions, sternly put, 
 compelled Nat to confess that the Earl had 
 ordered him to watch the appearance of Flo- 
 ret in the sitting-room which adjoined the 
 library. The Countess, on hearing this, 
 mused for a minute or BO, and then said to 
 him : 
 
 u When the clock strikes eleven, proceed to 
 his lordship and inform him the young lady 
 with whom he desires to have some conversa- 
 tion is in the room in which he previously 
 met her. Beware how you inform him that 
 you obtained this information through me." 
 
 As she concluded, she retired as hastily as 
 she had appeared. 
 
 Nat felt certain disagreeable misgivings 
 steal into his mind, although he could noi 
 quite see what he had to apprehend ; he, how- 
 ever, solaced himself -with a belief that there 
 would be a good opening for him to say a few 
 words to Floret alone, before he communicat 
 crt to the Earl the intelligence that she was 
 in the sitting-room in which he expected to see 
 hr. 
 
 He had no doubt that Floret was the child 
 of the Earl of Brackleigh and the Marchioness 
 of Westchester ; and now that she was actual- 
 ly beneath the roof of her father, he resolved 
 to disclose to her the secret of her birth, as- 
 sure her that he was the only person living 
 who could prove it, and that; at ihe proper mo- 
 ment he would come forward and do BO, if she I 
 
 1 
 
 would bind herself down to pay him, as soon 
 ae she bad obtained through bis instrumental- 
 ity her rights, the farcy sum of ten thousand 
 pounds, that being the purchase of the said 
 " public" which was ever running uppermost 
 in his brain a sum which he was satisfied 
 would be a mere " milk-score" to her when she 
 had got her own. 
 
 A few minutes before eleven he glided with 
 stealthy step along the corridor to the door of 
 the room in which he believed Floret to be 
 now sitting, and he cautiously turned the han- 
 dle of the lock, that he might enter tbe apart- 
 ment noiselessly, but though the handle turned 
 readily enough, the door would not open. 
 After three or four attempts, made with the 
 application of as much strength as he dared 
 use, he came to the mortifying conclusion, 
 that the door was locked upon the inside. 
 
 While reflectirg upon what was to be done 
 now, whether it would be advisable to tap 
 gently at the door or not, he heard the 
 rapid step and the rustle of the dress of 
 a female approaching him. He took five 
 or six enormously long strides from the door, 
 and turning round with hie hands in his pock- 
 ets, he assumed a sauntering gait, and moved 
 slowly back in the direction he had just quit- 
 ted. 
 
 The female overtook and passed him ; it 
 was Subtle. She turned her head round and 
 grinned in his face, and went on, singing, loudl 
 enough for him to hear : 
 
 " A watcbit*n I am, and I know all the round 
 The housekeepers, the strays, and the lodgers." 
 
 Nat could not find a satisfactory response to 
 this unpleasant allusion, and he, therefore, let 
 her depart without an observation, which, at 
 another time, would indubitably have followed 
 her. He saw that it would not be possible to 
 carry out his intention at present ; he there- 
 fore decided to defer it to a more favorable 
 opportunity, and he believed, with his vigi- 
 lance, that it would soon offer itself. 
 
 The clock struck eleven, and he went direct 
 to the Earl, whom he found awaiting him im- 
 patiently in his library. He roee from his seat 
 as Nat entered, and looked at him angrily. He 
 was about to address him in a sharp, reproving 
 tone, when Nat jerked with his thumb, and 
 gave a side nod with Ms head toward the door 
 at the farther end of the apartment. 
 
 "Is she there?" inquired the Earl, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 Nat nodded, but remained mute. 
 
 " Be within call when I ring for you," added 
 the Earl ; and turning awty, strode down the 
 library. 
 
 " I ought to ha' performed on that ere door, 
 I ought," thought, Nat, as he watched the 
 Earl move toward it. fc An' that's jes' what 
 I will do when the Hurl's a-thinkin' what 
 sort of a mornin' it is to-morrer about thig 
 time." 
 
 The Earl looked back, and Nat disappeared 
 from tLe library instanter. 
 
 On r caching eie door which le^ into the 
 
Oii. THE FATE OF THE POOK GIEL. 
 
 137 
 
 sitting-room, the Earl turned the handle with 
 a gentle touch, and opened it eoftly ; he gazed 
 within, and beheld Floret standing near to a 
 window, with her face turned toward him, for 
 she was attracted by the sound of the opening 
 door. 
 
 As before when he saw her, the light fell 
 upon her face and the upper part of her form. 
 He started, and his blood seemed to run back 
 to his heart. 
 
 A strange famtness seized him, for the re- 
 semblance of Floret to Constance was so sur- 
 prisingly great that nothing whatever appeared 
 to be left to the imagination to supply. 
 
 fle had seen the latter so recently, had 
 gazed so earnestly and so searchingly at every 
 feature, that they were stamped with the great- 
 est fidelity upon his memory ; and as he looked 
 upon Floret's face, he saw their counterpart in 
 every particular. 
 
 Tne likeness, indeed, was so great that, as a 
 coincidence, it was little short of a miracle. 
 He had never examined any theory which 
 obtained the power of mind over matter ; but 
 he thought that the affection of Fanny Shel- 
 ley for Constance must have been very intense, 
 and her devotion to her of the most absorbing 
 character, to have produced such a remarkable 
 result. 
 
 But Constance had positively affirmed to 
 him that this girl was not her child, and he 
 felt bound to believe her, although his common 
 sense strongly urged him to doubt whether 
 such a resemblance as he saw before him 
 could have been produced by a simple though 
 continuous action of the mind. Still, he decid- 
 ed that it would be the safer and the wiser 
 plan for him to place faith in her word. Un- 
 der existing circumstances, it would certainly 
 not be politic for him to act as if he haa not 
 the most implicit confidence in her ; and al- 
 though he was absolutely staggered by the 
 appearance of Floret, he, in defiance of an in- 
 stinctive impression to the contrary, resolved 
 to regard her as the offspring of Fanny Shel- 
 ley, and to treat her accordingly. 
 
 So, by an effort, recovering herself, he put 
 on a demeanor of cold composure, he advanced 
 toward her, and bowed stiffly. 
 
 He commenced with an icy 
 
 " Good morning, Madam 1" 
 
 She felt his accents fall cold upon her heart. 
 
 She had the day before been inspired in his 
 favor; his handsome features and form, his 
 elegance of manner, impressed her agreeably, 
 and she was moved by the emotion he display- 
 ed. Perhaps there was some secret influence 
 at work which she did not take into account. 
 
 The Countess had prepared her for an in- 
 terview with him half an hour previously, and 
 she certainly made arrangements to keep ic 
 with no disinclination. 
 
 She permitted the Marchioness' maid, Sub- 
 tle, to dress her as she pleased, she only took 
 some care that her hair and her dress were 
 arranged with exquisite nicety, and according 
 to her own taste. 
 
 She had anticipated, etc did not know way, 
 
 that this morning's interview would, in its con- 
 duct and in its result, be more pleasing and 
 satisfactory to her than the first. But she wss 
 wofully chilled by the manner and the tone 
 of the Earl when he first addressed her. 
 
 She bowed only in reply ; but she looked 
 somewhat eagerly and questioningly at him. 
 
 He could not fail to see that his cold re- 
 serve had had a discouraging effect upon her, 
 and he, therefore, averted his eyeg from her 
 face, for he felt that he could not trust himself 
 to look upon her and preserve a frigid bearing 
 toward her. 
 
 " I have sought you this mornirg," he went 
 on to say, " to have a little conversation with 
 you, that I may set you right upon a few 
 things in which you have been" deceived. 
 Upon one matter, at least, in which you have 
 been grossly misled." 
 
 She slightly inclined her head as she paus- 
 ed ; but she did not speak. 
 
 " I allude to your name," he subjoined. 
 
 She started, and gazed upon him with sur- 
 prise and some little dismay. 
 
 "You told me," he continued, "if ny 
 memory is not treacherous, that your Chris- 
 tian name was Edith " 
 
 A flash of crimson flew over htr cheeks, she 
 bowed her heaci drooped it rather assent- 
 ingly. 
 
 " And your surname Plantsgenet" 
 
 She did not reply. 
 
 He glanced at her ; her face had become aa 
 white aa death. 
 
 She looked exactly as he had seen the Mar- 
 chioness look the night before. 
 
 He drew a deep breath. 
 
 " "What if the Marchioness has deceived me !" 
 he thought, and then he impatiently dismiss- 
 ed the idea. " It is impossible," he murmured. 
 " She could have no motive whatever, when 
 that birth took place, to keep the secret from 
 me." 
 
 " I have no doubt," he continued, address- 
 ing Floret, after a short silence, f that you 
 hi.ve had nothing to do with- the assumption of 
 that name for it is an assumption, let me 
 assure you of that ; and I have no doubt in 
 the world that the name you bear was given to 
 you with a dishonest motive a motive which 
 had for its intention the injury of a high-born 
 lady, without providing any benefit or advan- 
 tage to you. Nay, its exposure would have 
 been calculated to very seriously damage 
 you." 
 
 He saw that her fase was still overspread 
 with a ghastly paleness, and he could not keep 
 down an emotion of pity for her situation ; be 
 therefore somewhat changed the tone of his 
 voice, though he still retained a distant man- 
 ner. * 
 
 " The name of Edith Plantagenet belonged 
 to a lady to whom you are in no degree relat- 
 ed," he eaid ; " but'l think I can explain how 
 it was bestowed upon you, and for what rea- 
 son. Remember, there i* no person living 
 who can furnish you with the facts connected 
 with your origin eo faithfully or so truthfully 
 
138 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 as myeelf. The source from whence I obtain- 
 ed my information is beyond question, and, 
 indeed, eorne of the circumstances I myself 
 remember distinctly." 
 
 He paused for a minute, aa if to watch what 
 effect liia observations were having upon her, 
 and he perceived that she was listening to him, 
 as one who had been full of hope of escape 
 from a hateful bondage listens to a judge paes- 
 Lag eentence of death. 
 
 Again a strange thrill of compassion ran 
 through his frame, and he modulated his voice 
 into a still kinder tone than before. 
 
 " I am aware," he resumed, " that my com- 
 munication cannot be otherwise than painful 
 to a susceptible mind ; still it would, I am 
 flure, be the most mistaken tenderness for 
 your feelings were I to suffer you to continue 
 to cherish a delusion which sooner or later 
 must bring upon you grief and humiliation. 
 If, therefore, I speak plainly, do not under- 
 stand me to speak harshly, or suppose me to 
 be animated by any unmanly desire to pain or 
 wound you unnecessarily. Havicg thus pre- 
 faced my intended statement, let me revert to 
 what was said in my hearing to you by the 
 Countess of Brackltigh, who has taken upon 
 herself, very improperly, very wrongly, very 
 cruelly, I will say, to be your patroness. She 
 referred to your resemblance to the Mar- 
 chioness of "VVestchester, whose maiden name 
 was Plantagenet. "Well, I confess that you do 
 resemble that lady, and in a very striking de- 
 gree ; and here I may suggest that your his- 
 tory and your extraordinary resemblance to a 
 lady of ? -.igh rank and birth lies in a nutshell. 
 Lady Westehester had a foster-sister, byname 
 Shelley." 
 
 Floret, with faint eyes, glanced around her. 
 
 for some mode of escape from her terrible 
 position, for the very name of Shelley made 
 her anticipate some disclosure that would 
 crush her. But every outlet was secured, and 
 there was no help for her but to listen. 
 
 She drooped her eyelids over her eyes, so 
 that their long, fair, eilken lashes rested upon 
 her cheek ; she clasped her hands tightly, and 
 stood erect to the Earl it seemed haughtily 
 and defiantly. 
 
 Ah, if he could have only read what was 
 passing in her mine!, and how every word he 
 was uttering served as a weapon to break her 
 heart, he would have ceased speaking on the 
 mention of the name of Shelley, and lefc un- 
 said that which, while it was unqualifiedly 
 falee, brought back again to her her old hope- 
 lees despair. 
 
 But he saw nothing but the accomplish- 
 ment of his own designs ; and though he knew 
 that he was ic flic ting grievous pain, he had no 
 notion of permitting her to remain in doubt 
 upon a point of which at t least he compre- 
 hended the importance. 
 
 "I remember Shelley well," he continued ; 
 "she was a very pretty, quiet, unassuming 
 girl, bom of humble parents ; but she was, as 
 
 1 have eaid, the foster-sister of Lady West- 
 cheater } rnd as her laoyship in childhood 
 
 had taken a violent fondness for her, she was 
 brought up with her. Lady Westchester was 
 very kind to her, exceedingly kind ; indeed, I 
 believe, she quire loved her a with a such 
 love as can exist between a superior and a de- 
 pendent. In consequence, as may be imag- 
 ; ned, Shelley worshiped her. Well, to make 
 a long and painful story short, some individu- 
 al in a similar position to my own a, man of 
 birth, I believe saw Shelley, was struck by 
 her pretty face, courted her, betrayed her, 
 there is no doubt about that. Lady West- 
 Chester, while at Beachborough, suffering un- 
 der indisposition, discovered her secret and 
 preserved it for her. A child was born whose 
 features marvelously resembled those of the 
 then Miss Plantagenet. This physiological 
 fact may be accounted for as a piece of mind- 
 worship by the maid of the xrditrees. The 
 child a the a to be brief, you were that 
 child ; your name, therefore, is not only not 
 Edith Plantagenet, but is not, and cannot be 
 any other than Shelley.'-' 
 
 The Earl of Brackleigh, who et the moment 
 was speaking with some little embarrassment, 
 owing to the delicacy of the communication 
 he considered himself compelled to make, had 
 his eyes fixed upon a superb diamond ring of 
 great value, was startled by a heavy fall. 
 
 The sound was followed by a slight shriek 
 from a further corner of the room. 
 
 He looked up. Upon the floor, senseless, 
 lay Floret. Advancing from the shadow of an 
 Indian screen, which stood at the end of the 
 apartment, he saw the Countess of Braekieigh, 
 flying to her aid. 
 
 She knelt down and raised the poor brok- 
 en-hearted girl from the floor, and supported 
 her upon her knee. She turned her iace up 
 to the Earl: 
 
 "Your coarse brutality, your atrccicis, 
 wicked falsehoods have slain her," she cried, 
 with deep and angry emotion. 
 
 *' Madam !" he ejaculated, sternly. 
 
 " Leave the room," she cried, vehemently. 
 " Leave it, unless you wish your servants to 
 witness a ecene such as they will never forget, 
 and you may repent as lorg as you breathe!" 
 
 " You are mad," he replied, in an offended 
 tone. 
 
 " It would be no wonder if I were," she re- 
 plied, scarcely alle to articulate from excess- 
 ive excitement. "I am, howtTer, sane 
 enough to counteract your infernal machina- 
 tions, and I will. You may plot as you will, 
 but my counterplot shall destroy your 
 Schemes, and you, too !" 
 
 " Lady Brackleigh," he cried, fiercely, "you 
 presume upon your position." 
 
 *' And upon my right, if I presume at all," 
 she answered, in an excited but determined 
 tone. *' Quit the room, I command you, or I 
 ill summon the servants, and repeat to them 
 what I now say to you. I will expose your 
 deliberate and iniquitous faleehoods to this 
 pocr, ill-used girl your child O inhuman 
 wretch whom you b&ve thus savagely de- 
 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOP, GIKL. 
 
 139 
 
 eived, ay, and traduced, for she is as legiti- 
 mately born as your own mother." 
 
 " Lady Brackleigh," cried He, passionately 
 
 " It is not my name, and you know it," she 
 retorted, wildly ; " ay, and you mil have to 
 answer for that, as well as for your treatment 
 of this poor, innocent creature. You lied to 
 me, as treacherously and as foully as you 
 have juet done to her, and you shall not you 
 cannot escape retribution." 
 
 " I will not submit to these vulgar out- 
 rages," he exclaimed, biting his lips to sup- 
 press the impulses of the violent rage which 
 was almost convulsing him. " You shall hear 
 from ree. I will not remain beneath the same 
 roof with you." 
 
 He was about to leave the room, when ehe 
 said to him, in slow, emphatic tone ; 
 
 " Quit this houae or, quitting it, leave Lon- 
 don if you dare. If you but attempt it, you 
 will be arrested." 
 
 " Arrested !" he repeated. " Who will dare 
 to take such a step ?" 
 
 "A police-officer," she cried, vehemently, 
 " upon a charge of bigamy, which I will sup- 
 port with proofs ; and, at the same time, my 
 Lord Marquis of Westchester shall have the 
 opportunity of prosecuting a similar charge, 
 unless he be too greatly attached to the 
 wanton chains which have BO long and BO in- 
 famously held him in bondage. Now, go ; do 
 as you please, but be prepared for the conse- 
 quences." 
 
 As she concluded, she made a desperate 
 effort, and rose up with the etill senseless form 
 of Floret in her arms, and seizing a handbell, 
 rung it with the greatest violence. 
 
 Startled by this movement, and positive 
 that it would bring into the room several serv- 
 ants, whose surprised and questioning looks he 
 had no inclination to face, Jbe retreated hastily 
 to his library, and thence to his study, there 
 to reflect upon the new phase affairs had 
 taken, and what would be his next best step, 
 
 In the meantime, Subtle had promptly an- 
 swered the summons of Lady Brackleigh, and 
 she quickly assisted to bear poor Floret 
 into the private chamber of the Countess, 
 , where they laid her motionless form upon a 
 couch, and applied restoratives to her. 
 
 It was long ere she recovered long before 
 she quite realized her position ; then, when, 
 after having gazed around her, having recog- 
 nized the apartment, and the faces of Countess 
 and Subtle, her maid, she remembered her in- 
 terview with the Earl of Brackleigh, and what 
 he had revealed to her, she commenced, with- 
 out uttering a word, to take off the bracelets 
 and necklet which the Countess to render her 
 resemblance to the miniature of the Mar- 
 chioness of Westchester more complete had 
 induced her to wear. 
 
 The Countess checked her, and in a sooth- 
 ing tone, said : 
 
 ''"What would you do, ray dear? Pause, 
 consider." 
 
 Floret shuddered. 
 
 Siie had bten considering, and elie still per- 
 
 sisted in removing the jewelry with which ehe 
 had been adorned. 
 
 The Marchioness laid her hand gently upon 
 her arm. She turned to subtle, and said : 
 
 " Leave us for a minute or so, Subtle. I 
 will ring for you when I want you again." 
 
 Subtle immediately quitted the room, and 
 then the Countees, seating herself by the side 
 of Floret, placed her arm about her waist. 
 
 *' My dear child," she said, in a tender and 
 encouraging voice, " be advised by xae. Do 
 not suffer what you have heard from Lord 
 Brackleigh's lips to discourage you. He has 
 the strongest possible motive for deceiving 
 you, but we ehall triumphantly refute him 
 yet." 
 
 " I pray you, Lady Brackleigb, to permit 
 me to leave your house," said Floret, in faint 
 tones. "I am so utterly crushed to remain 
 here will only add to the agony I am already 
 suffering." 
 
 " You shall suffer it no longer !" cried the 
 Countess, rising. " I will at once produce to 
 you an official copy of the certificate of the 
 marriage between the then Viscount Bertram, 
 under the name of Lennox Bertram, and Con- 
 stance Neville, then Miss PJantagenet. You 
 will see that there are various names attached 
 to the document, and we will together bunt 
 them all up, and as soon as we have procured 
 all the necessary evidence, we will introduce 
 you to the fashionable world as the legitimate 
 daughter of two members of the highest and 
 proudest families in this realm." 
 
 Floret said nothing, but she pressed her 
 hands upon her throat as if she was suffocat- 
 ing. 
 
 Lady Brackleigh assisted her to rise, and 
 conducted her into an inner apartment, a some- 
 what small room, fitted up with drawers, and 
 book-cases, and cabinets. 
 
 To one of the latter she led Floret, nnH hav- 
 ing produced a bunch of small keys, she ap- 
 plied one of them to the cabinet, and opened 
 it ; from the inside she drew forth a jeweled 
 box, and unlocking it, she raised the lid. 
 
 It contained several papers, 8,11 of which she 
 opened in turn, refolded and replaced. 
 
 She came to the last, and tore it open with 
 trembling fingtrs, and gazed upon it with an 
 expression of bitter disappointment. It was 
 not the paper she Bought. 
 
 For two hours she ransacked every case, 
 drawer, cabinet, box, or secret place where a 
 paper would be deposited in safety, but in 
 vain. The copy of the certificate was not 
 forthcoming. 
 
 " The villain has stolen it from me !" she 
 exclaimed, with unconcealed rar* "But I 
 will have back it again, and that in the course 
 of a few hours !" 
 
 She turned to Floret, and said, with all the 
 kindness she oould press into the tone of her 
 voice : 
 
 " Do not be disheartened, do not be discour- 
 aged, my poor child, all will yet go well. 
 The document has, I am sure, been pilfered 
 from me by the person from whom I received 
 
uo 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 it ; but I will make him restore it, you may be 
 assured. It will then be all the same, you 
 know as if I produced it now. Cheer up 
 your spirits, my dear child, we will bring these 
 haughty wicked ones to our feet yet." 
 
 la faint and trembling tones, Floret put a 
 few questions to the Countess, and elicited 
 from h r how she had originally obtained the 
 copy of the certificate ; that the original entry 
 was not in the register-book, but had evidently 
 been abstracted ; and that, in short, she was not 
 in possession of any positive evidence that her 
 suppositions were facts. 
 
 On arriving at this conclusion, Floret's 
 heart died hopelessly within her ; she became 
 more anxious than ever to depart ; but the 
 Countess told her, and wrh determination, 
 too, that she should not leave her. She said 
 she was as convinced of her legitimacy as she 
 was of her parentage, and she would not per- 
 mit her to quit her until she had established 
 both. 
 
 Floret, as if powerless to struggle, appeared 
 to yield, and in an hour or two seemed calmer, 
 though still deeply depressed. She retired to 
 her chamber early, on the plea of exhaustion, 
 and begged not to be disturbed until a some- 
 what advanced hour in the morning. 
 
 The Countess acquiesced, and gave the ne- 
 cessary instructions to Subtle. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock in the morning when 
 Subtle went to call Floret, and assist her to 
 dress who had hitherto dressed herself. 
 
 She found her chamber untenanted. 
 
 Floret had resumed her own dress, and had 
 disappeared. 
 
 The house was searched. No one had seen 
 her depart. Every one, Nat included, de- 
 nied having seen her quit her chamber or the 
 house. 
 
 The Countess ordered her carriage, and 
 tfrove direct to Mrs. Spencer's residence, at 
 Pimlico ; but, to her surprise and mortifica- 
 tion, Floret had not returned there ; they had 
 not heard of her since she had left them. 
 
 The Countess waited until nightfall, but 
 Floret did not come home. She returned to 
 her own residence, and in answer to her in- 
 quiries, she was informed that Floret had not 
 been Been during her absence. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 " Angels and ministers of grace defend us ' 
 Be thou a spirit ! SHAKKSP^ARE. 
 
 A week elapsed. No tidings of Floret had 
 been obtained at Pimlico. 
 ^ Ida was disconsolate, despairing, half fran- 
 tic, because she -did not know what to do to 
 help to discover her friend. She was so utterly 
 and completely ignorant of London and its 
 labyrinths, that to proceed in search of Floret 
 was to become lost herself. She could form 
 no idea of what had become of her, eave that 
 she had several times intimated, when quite 
 hopeless, that she would proceed to some se- 
 cure place, and there, winning just enough 
 bread to sustain existence, wear out her life in 
 the deepest eeclusioh. 
 
 Whether that obscurity meant some purlien 
 in London, or some out-of the -way spot in 
 the country, she was unable to conjecture. 
 She was unable, in fact, to afford any infor- 
 mation which could direct the Countess where 
 Floret was likely to be met with, or to famish 
 herself with a clue by which she could fiud 
 her out and induce her tD return to their com- 
 fortable apartments in Pimlico, or to join her, 
 and to share her fate, whatever it might be. 
 
 The Countess, who found that her threat to 
 the Earl had had the effect of keeping him 
 in London, if not at home, found also that 
 the Marquis and Marchioness of Weatchester 
 had quitted London for the country what 
 part of it, was a secret which was extremely 
 well kept ; for she had for years been mistress 
 of the movements of the Marchioness, by the 
 aid of spies in her household, and she wae 
 unable at present to learn whether thev had 
 gone. 
 
 So long as the Earl remained in London, 
 she cared little what were the movements of 
 the Marchioness, and this gave to her a kind 
 of freedom to devote her energies to the pros- 
 ecution of a search for Floret 
 
 She lost no time in setting detectives to 
 work. The Thames, the Serpentine, the orna- 
 mental waters in the Park were dragged ; a 
 circular was sent round to the various stations, 
 and an advertisement was placed in the second 
 column of the Times, describing the appear- 
 ance and attire of a missing young lady ; and 
 a reward was offered for any information which 
 might lead to her discovery. 
 
 Had it not been for the unhappinesa which 
 the mysterious disappearance of Floret had 
 caused her, Ida would at this very period 
 have been in the seventh heaven of delight, 
 for among those who busied themselves 
 greatly to attempt to discover what had be- 
 come of Floret, was the Honorable Hyde 
 Vaughan. 
 
 He seemed to be really anxious respecting 
 her; for he made his appearance at Mrs. 
 Spencer's every day sometimes twice a day- 
 and he felt bound 'each time to consult with 
 Ida. It is true, ehe was unable to furnish 
 him with any information which could help 
 his investigations ; but then she had always a 
 suggestion or two to offer, out of which some- 
 thing might be made, and she was so eagerly 
 desirous of knowing what success he had met 
 with, and she looked so exceedingly charming 
 in her excitement, that he found it impossible 
 to suffer a day to pass away without calling 
 to let her know how affairs were progressing, 
 or to ask whether she had any new sugges- 
 tions to make. 
 
 And she came to think him the kindest, 
 gentlest, sweet- tempered,, handsome, young, 
 dear darling she had ever met in the course 
 of her short life, or ever could meet with, if 
 she lived ever so long. 
 
 And he thought her the prettiest and most 
 fascinating creature he had ever known. 
 And that at the time was all he thought. 
 He had not the slightest intention of acting 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 dishonorably to her ; but the idea of marrying 
 her certainly never occurred to him. 
 
 It waa a dangerous position for them both. 
 
 Of the most earnest, unflagging, unwearied 
 in the search of Floret was Lord Victor. His 
 intimacy with Lady Brackleigh had increased 
 since Floret had become her protegee. It had 
 grown closer still after he, by accident, un- 
 known to anybody, even Floret herself, had 
 seen her in the habiliments which she had 
 worn at the desire of the Countess, so that 
 she might closely resemble the miniature of 
 the Marchioness of Westchester. 
 
 That the glimpse from one of the reception- 
 room windows which overlooked an apartment 
 in which Floret was standing reading a book, 
 had convinced him that, whatever might be 
 her origin, she was the loveliest creature upon 
 which his eyes had ever fallen. 
 
 And he thought that, supposing she were 
 nameless, she could not be a more exquisite 
 example of her Maker's work, nor more wor- 
 thy if ehe were a born duchess. 
 
 He had learned to value his kind by their 
 intrinsic worth. He attached no value to 
 rack or appearance, which he knew were but 
 contemptible frippery after all. 
 
 If ever man set himself to the accomplish- 
 ment of a task with a determination to succeed, 
 Lord Victor, in his resolve to find Floret, was 
 the man. 
 
 He listened to all the Countess had to say 
 about her, with the deepest attention. He 
 had no doubt, after she had revealed every- 
 thing to him, that Floret was the daughter of 
 the Earl of Brackleigh and the Marchioness 
 of Westchester, but that a marriage had taken 
 place between the latter pair was to his mind 
 doubtful at least, he considered the evidence 
 very inconclusive. 
 
 Still it was enough to deepen, if anything 
 could, his interest in the poor, bruised, heart 
 broken girl. 
 
 He listened to all that Ida could tell him, 
 and then he formed his plan of proceeding. 
 
 He had but one assistant in his service, and 
 that was Mrs. Spencers nephew, Bob, the pub- 
 lican, who, when requested by his aunt to aid 
 in the search for the lost girl, replied, em- 
 phatically : 
 
 " I think so !" 
 
 A fortnight elapsed, and still no tidings, and 
 every one grew very uneasy except Lord Vic- 
 tor and Bob ; they kept up their search with 
 unflagging spirit, and endeavored to inspire 
 others with hope. 
 
 Neither Lord Victor nor Bob entertainec 
 any supposition that Floret had laid violenl 
 hands upon her life. Bob, in fact, made wp 
 his mind that the gipsies had got hold of her 
 again ; while Lord Victor, remembering what 
 Ida had said, and impressed by Floret's own 
 observation to him, that her lot henceforth 
 must be lonely obscurity, was equally as cer 
 tain that ehe had obtained apartments in a 
 closely and densely-populated poor locality 
 where no one would dram of searching for 
 her, and where she would be able to pass the 
 
 remainder of her life unregarded and un- 
 " nown. 
 
 To search every such locality he applied 
 iis beet energies. He was accompanied in his 
 abors by Bob, and assisted in his searches by 
 one of the ablest and most astute detectives 
 belonging to Scotland Yard. 
 
 "While he was thus employed, and the 
 Countess of Brackleigh was enpaged in en- 
 deavoring to ascertain whether Nat Ferret had 
 robbed her of the copy of the certificate 
 which he stoutly denied and was devising 
 means to discover whether, in spite of his de- 
 nial, he had it yet in his possession, her maid, 
 Subtle, approached her, and informed her that 
 a young woman was very desirous of speaking . 
 with her for a few minutes. 
 
 "Did she mention her business ?" inquired 
 the Countess. 
 
 " No, my Lady," replied Subtle. 
 " Nor give any name ?" she asked. 
 " Yes, my Lady ; she said her name was Mrs. 
 Henry Vere," returned Subtle. 
 
 " I know no person of that name," observed 
 the Countess, musingly. 
 
 "Not of that name," responded Subtle; 
 " but I thick yon know the yonng woman. 
 She was a dressmaker, who had something to 
 do with that young lady who was here the 
 other day that ia, when she was a child, and 
 had the scarlet fever." 
 
 " I remember perfectly," exclaimed the 
 Countess, quickly ; " her name was Atten 
 Susan Atten ; show her in instantly, Subtle. I 
 will see her, to be sure I will see her." 
 
 Subtle disappeared, and in a minute or two 
 re-appeared, followed by a young woman very 
 genteelly dressed. 
 
 As soon as the Countess turned her eyes 
 upon her, she exclaimed : 
 
 " I remember you your name was Atten, 
 was it not?" 
 
 " It was, my Lady " replied the young wom- 
 an, " Susan Atten ; it is now Vere. I am the 
 wife of Henry Vere, who " 
 
 "I remember," interposed the Countess; 
 and said, kindly, "be seated. Subtle," she 
 added, " be good enough to leave us." 
 
 Subtle quitted the room, and closed the door 
 behind her with seeming readiness. 
 
 As she could, from a crevice which she had 
 formed with patience and care in the adjoin- 
 ing room, hear all that was said in that in 
 which the Countess and Susan were seated, it 
 did not vex her to be sent out of the room. 
 
 As soon as they were alone, the Countess, 
 eyeing Susan, said": "You have been abroad?" 
 " Yes, my Lady, to Canada," she replied. 
 " Ah ! If I remember rightly, your present 
 husband wrote for you to come over to him ?" 
 " He did, my Lady, and I went over to him, 
 and reached him and his friends safely," re- 
 plied Susan. 
 
 " His friends," repeated the Countess, mu- 
 singly ; "his friends; let me see. What have 
 I on ray mind respecting his connections?" 
 
 "His brother, perhaps, my Lady," suggested 
 Susan, rather faintly. 
 
142 
 
 HAGAE LOT ; 
 
 "Ilia brother," echoed the Ooanfess, re- 
 flectively. " How inactive my memory is 1 I 
 have no recollections which point to the bro- 
 ther of i he young man you went out to marry. 
 Can you not aid my feeble brain ?" 
 
 "His brother, my Lady," answered Susan, 
 Bt&mmeriBgly, " was to was to have married 
 the the young woman who lived at Beach- 
 borough and who was supposed to have been 
 the that is, she first brought to the village 
 the Poor Girl that is, I mean, my Lady tnat 
 child who was in my care " 
 
 " I remembernow 1" exclaimed the Countess, 
 abruptly, and with some licile excitement. 
 "His brother is the joung man who was 
 charged with the murder of tne girl Shelley r" 
 
 " Yes, my Lidy," returned Susan, still dis- 
 playing embarrassment. 
 
 " And was he r3ally guiliy of tht horrible 
 crime f " ehe aaked, looking eearehingly at Su- 
 san's face. 
 
 A crimson flush suffused Susan's features, 
 tears sprang into her eyes, and she replied, 
 with a rather remarkable degree of earnest- 
 ness : * He was not, my Lady ; indeed, in - 
 deed he was not !" 
 
 " Circumstances were very strong against 
 him," rejoined the Counteas, eyeing her nar- 
 rowly, " if I remember correctly what you 
 yourself told me." 
 
 " Yes, yes, my Lady," returned Susan, with 
 peculiar animation. " Yes, my Lady ; but I 
 was deceived by appearances, as all who lived 
 in the village were." 
 
 " By appearances !" repeated the Countess, 
 regarding her with a penetrating look. " Well, 
 as I have said before, they looked so black 
 again&t him that he was discharged only be- 
 % cauee no actual proofs could be produced 
 against him. But no one, you said, thought 
 him innocent I" 
 
 " No, my Lady ; but they all wronged him !" 
 exclaimed Susan, earnestly. 
 
 " What was his name ?" asked the Countess, 
 not for a moment removing her eyes from 
 Susan's face. 
 
 " Stephen Vere, my Lady," replied Susan, 
 trembling, as if she wa3 under the cross-exam- 
 ination of an astute counsel, having committed 
 some evil deed. 
 
 "You saw him in Canada?" said the Coun- 
 tess, interrogatively. 
 
 " Oh, yes, my Lady. It was upon his farm 
 that my huaband was living when I went to 
 join him." 
 
 " Did his brother believe him to be guilty 
 of the horrid crime?" asked the Countess, 
 quickly. 
 
 " At first, perhaps my Lady ; but but af- 
 terward he knew him not to be!" returned 
 Susan. 
 
 " Knew him not to be I" echoed the 
 Countess, with a tone of surprise. '-How 
 could he know him not to be guilty?" 
 
 Suean remained silent, and cast her eyes 
 upon tbe floor. 
 
 "I suppose he told him that he was not 
 guilt j i tn?'' observed the Countess. 
 
 Susan raised her eyes ; but sbs found those 
 of the Countess so intently fixed upon her* 
 that she dropped them again, and, in a con- 
 fused tone, replied: " Yes, ye?, ray Lidy." 
 
 The Countess shrugged ner shoulders. 
 
 " That docs not go very far to establish his 
 innocence," she observed ; and added : "You 
 believed him guilty until you went to Canada, 
 eh?" 
 
 " I I feared that he wad so, my Lady I" 
 she replied. 
 
 " But, upon reaching Canada, you discover- 
 ed your error ?' she pursued, rapidly. 
 
 " Yes ; oh, yes, my Lady," returned Suaan, 
 with eogerness. 
 
 "How?" asked the Countess, sharply and 
 emphatically. 
 
 Susan locked at her for an instant with 
 something like affright, and, shrinking bock a 
 pace or two, burst into tears. 
 
 The Countess regarded her with almost in- 
 tense interest. 
 
 She remained silent for a minute, and 
 then said, iu a softer tciie than she had yet 
 used : 
 
 " Compose yourself, my good girl. My ob- 
 ject in putting the questions I have addressed 
 and may submit to you, is one of importance. 
 It can entail no injury to you, nor upon your 
 connections, and may be the means of effecting 
 a great result." 
 
 SUE an wiped the tears from her eyes, and 
 said, in a low voice : 
 
 " I am sure, my Lady, that goodness and 
 kindness alone urge you to question me, and I 
 hope you will pardon my foolish weakness; 
 but the circumstances are all of them of the 
 deepest and most painful interest to me, and 
 when I think of what has happened, and what 
 may yet happen, I cannot help being af- 
 fected." 
 
 " I understand you," returned the Countess, 
 readily ; " and I will endeavor to avoid press- 
 ing tou closely on any point which may pain 
 you. The subject, however, is one in which I 
 am as deeply interested as you are ; nay, I 
 am more nearly concerned than you can pos- 
 sibly be, and, therefore, I am compelled, as it 
 were, to put questions to you, which, under 
 other circumstances, an ordinarily-delicate 
 consideration for your feelings would induce 
 me to withhold." 
 
 " Yes, my Lady," returned Susan, quietly. 
 
 " You saw Stephen Vere, of course, OD reach- 
 ing his homestead," pursued the Countess. 
 
 " Yes, my Lady," replied Susan. 
 
 " Was he married ?" 
 
 " No n no, my Lady." 
 
 " Had he a housekeeper ?" 
 
 " His elder sister, my Lady." 
 
 <! Ah his eldest eister," repeated tbe Count- 
 ess, with a tone of disappointment. Then she 
 subjoined, " You conversed with him?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lady." 
 
 "Often?" 
 " Very often." 
 
 "Yoa talked of old times whu yu knew 
 e&cli other at Eociohborough?" 
 
OR. THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 " Yes, my Lidy." 
 
 " Aori of events which had taken place after 
 he left England V" 
 
 " Y*s my l*dy." 
 
 "And before be departed?" 
 
 This qutstion was put with rapidity and 
 marked empties. 
 
 " Yes, my Lidy," replied Susan, with far 
 more com poeure than the Countess expected 
 to see her di-plvy; "we talked over every- 
 thing th*t had bapjjened b^th before and alter 
 he went away, noy Lidy." 
 
 " Without reserve?" 
 
 " Witaout any reserve whatever, my Lady." 
 
 "And jou new firmly believe him to be 
 innocent of the murder of the girl Saelley ?" 
 
 ! am convinced of it, my Lady, as firmly 
 as that I am here before you," replied Susan, 
 with ranch earnestness. 
 
 " What brought you back to England ?" in- 
 quired the Countess. 
 
 " Tho same cause which has induced me to 
 come to you, my Lady," returned Susan. " I 
 want to discover poor little Floret ; or, as we 
 kneir her in the village, the Poor Girl, my 
 Lady." 
 
 The Countess remained silent for a short pe- 
 riod, endeavoring to peruse in Susan's fea- 
 tures what was passing in her mind. Present- 
 ly she said : 
 
 " Your husband has, of course, returned 
 with you?" 
 
 * Yes, my Lady." 
 
 " And you have left his brother, the sus- 
 pected, behind ?" 
 
 ' N \ my Lady ; he sold his farm, and has 
 returned with us." 
 
 The Countess started. 
 
 " Wi^h you then he is here in London?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lady." 
 
 " He was the last person at Beachborough 
 who was known to have seen and spoken with 
 Shelley alive, was he not?" 
 
 Susan's voice slightly faltered, as she re- 
 plied : * 
 
 ** Ye yes, my Lady." 
 
 " I must see him. You must not on any 
 account permit him to quit London without 
 giving me an interview." 
 
 " He will have no objection to give your la- 
 dyship an interview, I am sure." 
 
 'If I can proclaim and establish his inno- 
 cence in Beachborough, I will ; but he muet 
 render me some service in accomplishing the 
 great object which I have been for years en- 
 deavoring to obtain." 
 
 " I do not doubt, my Lady, that he will be 
 ready to render your ladyship any service 
 which lies in his power," answered Susan, 
 quietly. 
 
 " I am very delighted to hear you say so. I 
 expeat great help from him." 
 
 SUSSH shook her head slightly, as much as 
 to insinuate that the Countess's anticipations 
 would scarcely be likely to be realized. The 
 Counteea did not appear to heed this gesture, 
 but eirked : 
 
 "What is your address?" 
 
 " Little Elizabeth street, Pimlico, next door 
 to the house in which I lived before I went 
 away from England," she answered. "My 
 old abode I fouud on my return occupied, and 
 so we took the next house, iu the hope that if 
 Floret searched for us in that neighborhood 
 she would be able to find us." 
 
 The Countess shook her head in her turn. ' 
 
 "Does your ladyship know where I can find 
 her ?" inquired Susan with eagerness, miscon- 
 struing her movement of the head into an inti- 
 mation that Floret, perhaps, was too proud 
 now to visit the humble street in which sho 
 had once lived with her. 
 
 Suaan had always faith in the idea that the 
 Poor Girl would become a great lady, and she 
 seemed to have been long enough away from 
 her own country fur that event to have been 
 now brought about. 
 
 " I wish I could tell you where you can find 
 her," returned the Countess. " I do not know, 
 and I am convinced that no one else but her- 
 self can furnish you with that information. 
 Sail, I hope shortly to be able to tffird you 
 the satisfaction of meeting with her. Had you 
 arrived a fortnight or three weeks earlier, you 
 would have met with her here." 
 
 " O mercy ! here ?" cried Suaan, excitedly. , 
 
 " In this room," returned the Countess. 
 
 Susan instantly rattled off fifty questions 
 respecting her, which the Countess briefly an* 
 swered. 
 
 "You will find her much changed," con- 
 tinued the Couutess. " She has grown much, 
 and is now a tall, elegant girl, with beautiful 
 features, and a peculiarly lofty bearing." 
 
 "And pray, my Lady, does she resemble in 
 the face any any one great lady in partic- 
 ular?" inquired Susan, with undisseinbled agi- 
 tation. 
 
 " bhe does, indeed," replied the Countess, 
 eyeing her curiously, as if somewhat surprised 
 by the question. "She bears the most extra- 
 ordinary resemblance to the Marchioneaa of 
 Westchester." 
 
 "Who who was a Miss Constance Planta- 
 genet," exclaimed Susan, eagerly. 
 
 " The eame individual," responded the- 
 Countees, with a curling lip. 
 
 " Thank Heaven !" ejaculated Susan, clasp- 
 ing her hands. 
 
 " For what?" asked the Countess. 
 
 " For that news," replied Sasan, with tears- 
 in her eyes. " O my Lady, you do not know- 
 you cannot have any idea how much there is 
 attached to that fact!" 
 
 " I can guess," she exclaimed, dryly ; and, 
 looking at her watch, she added, "I nave an 
 engagement at hand which I must keep. I 
 cannot, therefore, spare you any more time 
 this morning ; but I have your addreea, and 
 the moment I obtain any tidings of Floret, as 
 you call her I know her by a different ap- 
 pellation I will communicate with you; in- 
 deed, you may call at the place where ehe was 
 living when I discovered her recently on your 
 way home ; they may have heard there some- 
 thing about her. Mention my name to the 
 
144 
 
 HAGAIl LOT ; 
 
 the house, and she will tell 
 you anything which she may know, and much, 
 probably, that will interest you. Good morn- 
 ing." 
 
 The Countess rang her bell ; she gave Susan 
 Mrs. Spencer's address ; and, at the same mo- 
 ment, Subtle appeared at the door. Susan 
 courtesyed, and withdrew. 
 
 She hurried awaj toward Mrs. Spencer's 
 abode, and as she was on the point of reach- 
 ing Itj she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and 
 a voice exclaimed : 
 
 "I think so!" 
 
 She turned rapidly round. 
 
 " Bob !" she cried, quickly. 
 
 " Well, I think so, Susy," he returned ; and 
 they actually embraced in the street, without 
 either knowing what they were about. 
 
 " How old is your sister 1" said Bob, with a 
 tremendously roguish twinkle of the eye. 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Bob," she cried, " but an- 
 swer all my questions, and tell me everything 
 you know." 
 
 Bob listened to her attentively, complied 
 patiently, perseveringly, and with perspicuity. 
 
 When she had exhausted her questions, and 
 him, too, she said : 
 
 " Now, Bob, come home with me, and see 
 Harry." 
 
 " I think so," he said. 
 
 Arm-in-arm they made their way to Little 
 Elizabeth street, and paused before the door 
 of the house in which Susan now dwelt with 
 her husband. 
 
 Susan opened the door with a key, and as 
 JJob entered, she closed the door behind him. 
 
 She beckoned him to follow her up-stairs, 
 and he did so, softly, because he observed that 
 she stepped lightly. 
 
 On reaching the door of a front room, she 
 opened it, and motioned him to enter. 
 
 He did ao, with a chuckle, but instantly 
 started, and recoiled a step. 
 
 His face became as white as death, he gasp- 
 ed for breath. 
 
 " My Lord! my Lord !" he ejaculated. 
 
 Then there was a rush of blinding tears to 
 2iis eyes, and he muttered, hoarsely : 
 
 " I I I think so I" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 "Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven, 
 If in jour bright leaves man would read the fate 
 Of men and empires, it is to be forgiven 
 That, in their aspirations to be great, 
 Their destinies o'erstep their mortal state, 
 For ye are a wonder and a mystery." 
 
 BTBON. 
 
 Upon the night subsequent to the meeting 
 of Hagar Lot with the Earl of Brackleigh, she 
 stood alone with Li per Leper upon one of the 
 wildest and most picturesque parts of Hamp- 
 stead Heath. 
 
 The sun was setting with a stormy, angry 
 aspect, and threw a fiery glare over the sandy 
 hillocks and the patches of dark gorse, which 
 assumed a rich purple tint in the fast fading 
 light. The distant landscape had already 
 merged into a deep blue misty haze of various 
 
 gradations of color, dotted here and there, and 
 unevenly lined, indicating the masses of wood- 
 land and undulating ridges, which, in the 
 broad daylight, were prominent and attractive 
 features in the view. 
 
 To the eastward, where the sky was yet un- 
 obscurfi by the swiftly-rising, vapory clouds, 
 the moon appeared a thin silver creacent, 
 only just visible. Below it a star was glitter- 
 ing brightly, and close to it, so that it seemed 
 to touch, was another star, paler and brighter 
 in its brilliancy. 
 
 Hagar stood with her back to the sun, watch- 
 ing those two stars with intense interest ; and 
 Liper Leper, with a gloomy paze from be- 
 neath his bent brows, was occupied in regard- 
 ing her yet beautiful countenance with fixed 
 earnestness. 
 
 For a short time they stood without moving 
 a limb, and perfectly silent, both intent on the 
 exclusive object of their thoughts. 
 
 At length, the occultation of the faint star 
 was completed, and Hagar, taming her face 
 away, covered her eyes with her hands. Liper 
 Leper removed his gaze from her face, and 
 turned sullenly from her. 
 
 Hagar presently withdrew her hands from 
 her face, and muttered : 
 
 " So it is accomplished !" 
 
 Liper moved his head slowly round, and 
 bending his dark eyes upon her, asked, 
 coldly ; 
 
 " What is accomplished ?" 
 
 " The star of my destiny is obscured by that 
 of another," she replied. 
 
 Liper Leper cast his eyes upward to the star 
 upon which she had been gazing. 
 
 " It is the star of the White Rose," he said. 
 
 " It is Floret's," she replied, gloomily. 
 
 "Ic shines more brightly than ever," he 
 said, musingly. 
 
 " Yes," responded Hagar ; and then, glanc- 
 ing at the sun, added, " a wild storm is brew- 
 ing." 
 
 "Yet will it be higher and brightei in the 
 heavens to-morrow," he returned, with a slow, 
 marked enunciation; "and higher still, and 
 higher and brighter, too, will it become. Do 
 you know that, Hagar ?" 
 
 She frowned, and with a malignant expres- 
 sion, replied : 
 
 " Her star has eclipsed my star to be itself 
 eclipsed, Her race is nearly run." 
 
 "How know you that?" he asked, mo- 
 rosely. 
 
 " Why ask me when you have already as- 
 sumed that I know her star to be in the as- 
 cendancy ?" she answered. " I tell you, 
 Liper," she added, after a moment's thought, 
 " I know that as I know other events. I can 
 read the mind of others as clearly as I can 
 trace the paths of the planets, and interpret by 
 their courses the shape that circumstances 
 will take. 
 
 "Can you read my mind so clearly, 
 Hagar?" he asked, in a half scornful tone. 
 
 "You shall know ere we part," she re- 
 plied. " Before that takes place, I wish you 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 (to heed me, and to add another service to the 
 
 knaiiy which you have already performed for 
 
 toe." 
 
 | He half turned gloomily from her. 
 
 I Her eyes flished brightly as she observed 
 
 the gesture, and her lip slightly curled. 
 
 I " Is has been a long servitude, Liper," she 
 
 isaid, ' but it is near its regard." 
 
 I She might have heard his teeth grate, if she 
 
 bad listened. She sa<r, hotrerer, that he did 
 
 (not turn his face toward her, and advancing 
 
 a step nearer to him, she laid her hand gently 
 
 upon his shoulder. 
 
 He rtcoiied from her touch, and she regard- 
 ed him instantly with wonder, and an emotion 
 irhieh was very like fear. 
 
 There was an aspect, too, of intense cu- 
 iosity in the searching look she bent upon 
 iim. Her mind raced over a hundred various 
 ncidents which were calculated to work this 
 change in him, but she was unable to fasten 
 upon one as the true one. 
 
 Sail keeping her bright eye fixed upon his, 
 ihe said, with great sternness 
 
 " You are changed, Liper." 
 
 " Mo, Hftger," he answered, with a bitter- 
 
 ss in his tone which did not escape her, " I 
 im unchanged." 
 
 " There is something on your mind which is 
 unfavorable to me," she replied ; " of that I 
 am certain. What is it ?" 
 
 He almost closed his eyes with a sullen ex- 
 pression. 
 
 11 Let us not speak of that now," he answer- 
 ed. " What service is it you wish me to do 
 for you? Let me know that before we proceed 
 io any other subject." 
 
 Htgar agaiu looked at him with surprise. 
 
 " You do not speak to me, you do not look 
 upon me, as of old, Liper," she observed, in a 
 thoughtful tone. "Well, it is the first sign 
 ihafc my star has entered its last gloomy phase. 
 It is a token that there is but a small period 
 remaining in which I can perform my allotted 
 task. Let it pass. What matters a blow more 
 or less to a broken heart?" 
 
 He bent his head down, and he moved the 
 point of his foot uneasily about the loose sand, 
 but he offered no remark. 
 
 She drew a deep breath, and after another 
 an J more prolonged scrutiny of his features, 
 without obtaining a more satisfactory result 
 than before, she said to him : 
 
 "I wish to speak to you of the White 
 Eose." 
 
 He looked up instantly and attentively. 
 
 " You are interested in her fate," she said 
 sharply. 
 
 I am," he replied steadily. 
 
 " Why?" she inquired, a little eagerly. 
 
 He paused for a moment, and then said, 
 evasively : " It is interwoven with yours." 
 
 She looked earnestly at him, as if to ascer- 
 tain whether that he made that observation 
 truthfully, but his lips were compressed to- 
 gether, aud his features appeared so rigidly 
 eet that she was left to place her own inter- 
 pretation upon it. 
 
 " That is a feeling," she said, presently, 
 " who i may change with those which have 
 alre*itly altered. Our fate are no longer im- 
 terwuven; her star still shines brightly 
 tuioe is obscured; the future is a mist, out of 
 whioti I must fashion my own end as best I 
 can. For years I hive had but one object, 
 and that accomplished, I care not what fol- 
 lows. The wuriJ, but for this purpose, would 
 be but a black to me : that attained, the rest 
 will be chaos." 
 
 He gLmoed at her as she uttered the last 
 words, and an expression of inward pain passed 
 faintly over his features. 
 
 " Wnat is that end, JtLagar ?" he asked, with 
 earnestness. 
 
 4t Reverge !" she replied emphatically. 
 
 "Upon, whom the White Rosa ?" he asked* 
 recoling. 
 
 Sae waved her hand impatiently. 
 
 ' Upon one who has wronged me so irre- 
 parably, that no retribution which I can de- 
 vice will approach his deserts!" she ex* 
 claimed. 
 
 "I understand," he rejoined, in a sullen 
 tone. 
 
 " You do not, Liper, you cannot ; your 
 most fertile brain cannot conceive the measure 
 of my wrong !" she rejoined, excitedly. 4i You," 
 she added, with a curl of her upper lip " you, 
 what can you knew of my inexplicable 
 wrongs I'* 
 
 He remained silent. 
 
 " They are nursed, cherished, fed in my own 
 bosom," she continued ; " and they, ever gnaw- 
 ing at my heart, they stimulate me, unceasing- 
 ly, to achieve that species of revenge which 
 will inflict pain forever on earth on the author 
 of my miseries!" 
 
 " Let us speak of th^ White Rose," said , 
 Liper, in a hoarse undertone. 
 
 "I r m about to do so," rejoined Hagar; 
 " for she will be one of the instruments bj 
 which I shall work." 
 
 He glanced furtively at her, but said noth- : 
 ing. 
 
 44 Have you sought for her since you parted 
 with her when on her way to London ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I hare," he replied, lacanically. 
 
 "And have discovered her?" she sug- 
 gested. 
 
 "No!" he returned, as briefly. 
 
 " I will tell you where to seek for her," she 
 rejoined. " Sne is where those now in search 
 of her will never dream of seeking her. I 
 happened to learn by accident, a sbort time 
 back, where she was kept as a prized secret, 
 to be brought forward at some momeat suita- 
 ble to the striking of a vengeful blow a blow 
 which, however well merited, would afford to 
 me no a ;onement. I, therefore, watched the 
 building in which, if I may judge by her sub- 
 sequent conduct, she was detained more as ft 
 prisoner than as a guest. i 
 
 "I stationed m\self at a post where, from 
 dawn to dark, I "could watcti the rooms in 
 which I supposed her to be kept, and won my 
 
iuo 
 
 HAGAK LOT ; 
 
 reward, some three weeks since, by observing, 
 in ibe K r y of the dairn, a window overlooking 
 a terrace leidirig to the garden open, a female 
 push herself through, and drop OQ to the paved 
 floor. * It was the White Ro?e ! 
 
 ** She hurried down the garden, and unlock- 
 ed a email ga'e, which led into the street be- 
 yond She passed through the doorway, closed 
 the door, and pressed onward. 1 followed her 
 quickly, and *.aw her run wildly through street 
 after eireet, as if regardless of the oireciion 
 she was taking, so that she was enabled to 
 gee far away from the house she had just 
 quilted. 
 
 "Tnrottgh the labyrinth of streets she hur- 
 ried, wi'bou-k pausicg, until she found herself 
 upon the banks of the river which flows through 
 the hfarfc of yonder huge city. At first I en- 
 tertained the impression that it was her inten- 
 - ion to drown herself " 
 
 "ALd you rushed forward to seize her?" 
 interrup ed Liper Leper, with ardor. 
 
 Stie gazed at him beneath her knitted 
 browa. 
 
 " No ! 1f she replied, coldly. " I knew that 
 tbe hoar had passed which made my life hang 
 upon her safety, and I was curious to see in 
 what; direction her fate would conduct her." 
 
 "Hagnr, Hagar! you did not, you could rot 
 etand by and see the White Koee take the 
 dread leap into eternity, without one tffort to 
 gave her," cried Liper Leper, clutching at 
 Hagir's wrist with a grip wnioii made her 
 wince with pain. 
 
 " Why not? ' answered Hagar, flinging off 
 his gr&ep. " ( What vtas she to me more 
 than a means by whica I could wreak revenge 
 upon others? I did not wish to compass her 
 death by nay own hand. I cared not to see 
 her perieh by the machinations of those whose 
 duty it W88 to cherish her; and of herself, 
 what bad she to do with life, an outcast from 
 her infancy, an outcast still. No, I stood be- 
 neath tbe shadow of a ruined warehouse, while 
 ehe, *ith a gesture of seeming frenzy, pressed 
 onward to the black, turgid waters, sweeping 
 down to the sea with sullen and silent ra- 
 pidity." 
 
 Liper Leper groaned and clenched his fists, 
 hia bleck eyes eeemed to flash with fire, and 
 his wbite teeth, though cloeely set together, 
 were plainly visible between his lips. 
 
 There was danger in his aspect, danger to 
 her who spoke of the life of the poor hunted 
 creature, tiie particulars of waoee wretched 
 history no one knew better than himself, trem- 
 bliog upon the verge of destruction, with 
 such cold heartlessnees. 
 
 " And you jet stood still, Hagar ?" he said, 
 in a low, lioareo tone. 
 
 44 1 stood motionless as she advanced along 
 a stone bank or wharf, to the very brink, where 
 tbe water, deep and bedded with ocze and 
 slime, lay beneath, prepared to receive her 
 wiibiu ita murky bosom. She seemed to gaze 
 distr? etedly at it for an instant, and then ehe 
 turned her face to the sky, as if to look her 
 lastupcn it, and then" 
 
 "Yon dashed forward and seized her?* 
 again interposed Leper, wild/y; "you did 
 you did, fl igar if any one were to say to me 
 that you d,d not, I would bury n.y knife to 
 the helt in his heart!" 
 
 " I did not I" exclaimed Hagar, emphati- 
 cally. 
 
 Liper thrust his hand into his bosom \ritfe 
 the growl of a tiger. 
 
 " There was no need, indeed, for my inter- 
 feience," she added, quickly^ although ehe did 
 not notice the sudden move'ment of his hand. 
 " No sooner had she turned her eyes to Hea- 
 ven than she 6ee"med to cower and to sbriak 
 down aim ot*t in a heap. She then covered her 
 f\ce with her hand?, and springing up again, * 
 she fled awa-y in the same direction as that in 
 which she came. 
 
 I followed her etill ; s^e wandered no, she 
 knew not where nor did I, un'il again we 
 leached t!je river, where it was crossed by a 
 masnve biicge, over which streamed icces- 
 santJy people and vehicles. A species of in- 
 stinct seenoed to guide her footsteps, until she ' 
 entered upon the same locality as that to which 
 I and you bore her a sleeping child." 
 
 " Bermondsey !" ejaculated Li per, drawing 
 a deep breath, the nrst he had inspired for 
 some moments. 
 
 Large globules of cold perspiration stood 
 thicfcly upon his forehead, he wiped them off 
 with the hand which he had withdrawn from 
 his vest. 
 
 " The very place," returned Hagar. " I do 
 not think, however, that the recognized it," 
 she added, reflectively, "her movements ap- 
 peared to be made so entirely without a pur- 
 pcse ; but strangely enough, as weary and ex- 
 hausted I waa no lees faint and fatigued 
 she moved sk>wly onward in her cheerless pil- 
 grimage, the strong light of a lamp fell upon 
 the face and form of a bowed old man, walk- 
 ing with the aid of a stick. Impulsively she 
 hurried up to him, and laying her hand upon 
 his shoulder, whispered some words in hia 
 ear." 
 
 " I am the Wanderer," muttered Liper Lep- 
 er, under his breath. 
 
 " He turned quickly to her. I recognized 
 in his face that of Daddy Windy. His ex- 
 travagance on discovering who it was that ad- 
 dressed him knew no bounds. She spoke again 
 to him, and he in-tanUy conducted her to a 
 house in which he dwells. I saw her enter it 
 with Mm. I marked it down." 
 
 She drew forth a pocket-book, and taking 
 from it a slip of paper, said : 
 
 " This is the address." 
 
 " She i9 still there?" obseeved Liper, inter- 
 rogatively. 
 
 "She is !" returned Hagar. " I visited the 
 spot this morning. The Daddy has obtained ' 
 employment for her in flower-makirg; the 
 pay is ecanty, and the hours of labor long 
 enough to quickly wear out body and souL 
 She believes, however, that she purchases 
 obscurity, and a quick path to the grave, by 
 this couree of proceeding* And no doubt ehV 
 
OR, THE PATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 147 
 
 Tronic!, if she were permitted to continue such 
 a career. She does not ape^k while ebe lt- 
 bore, and ehe weeps the eight through, instead 
 of sleepicg. The D*ddy is during the day 
 incessattiy engaged m raking up tvery inci- 
 dent connected with her early life ; and should 
 he hit upon the right track, he would, in a 
 spirit of avarice, take the sdog out of my 
 scheme of revenge. She cannot, therefore, 
 be permitted by mo to remain where she is. 
 Yet, by ftratagem only, can Bhe be drawn from 
 her seclusion, and 1 have a plan to entice her 
 away, which I know will not fail." 
 
 Li per folded his arm?, and listened to what 
 followed with an air of esger i-merest. 
 
 "Ifcid this. Jler desire to look upon her 
 mother perhaps to speak to her I know to 
 be intense," pursued Hagar. 
 
 " 1 know that to be true," observed Liper. 
 
 " It is my intention that ehe shall have an 
 interview," rejoiced IN gar, qi?ick)y. " I will 
 confront the mother ard tbe child. I will slow 
 to the proiid Mnrcbioueeu her unrecogtizeo 
 daughter. Jwill mate her see and feel what a 
 terrible spectre she has conetaiitJy haunting 
 aiid crossing her path. 1 will recall to her 
 memory a certain conversation which we held 
 at Raby Hall, and then " 
 
 " What?" inquired Liper, as she paused. 
 
 "I will le&vo the Maicbienees, with a sim- 
 ple suggestion, to dispose of her daughter as 
 she may think best," she answered, with a 
 sneer. 
 
 Liper started, but he made no remark. 
 
 "Tbe service which I shall require of you, 
 L5per," she proceeded, "will be simply to 
 seek her, and speak with her alone. You will 
 tell her that you can conduct her to a spot 
 where the mother who bore her, who has seen 
 her, without acknowledging her, whom she 
 has seen without knowing her, will be unat- 
 tended, awaiting her coming. She will uot 
 fail to consent. You will make tbe appoint- 
 ment for tJbe third uigbt from ibis, after 
 nightfall. Meet her where you 'will, aLd then 
 coiiduet her to the private door in the garden 
 of Westchester House, tbe situation of which 
 you kuow. I will ba there awaiting you." 
 
 She paused. Liper Leper remained silent 
 for a brief space, ad if in deep thought. 
 
 Then be said : 
 
 44 You speak of the White Rose as though 
 she were the daughter of the Marchioness of 
 Westohester. Is she PO ?" 
 
 " She-is 1" replied Eh^er. 
 
 " But ia there acy existing evidence to prove 
 this beyond a question?' 1 he inquired, regard- 
 ing her earner ly. 
 
 ** Circumstantinl evidence in abundance," 
 she answered ; " but the only positive evi 
 dence wbich cotild have established the fact 
 was centred in the person of Fanny Soelley, 
 the gitl who was murdered, and whoee 
 body was flung into the Beachborough 
 brook." 
 
 *' UnJees the Marchioness admits the fact, it 
 cannot be proved P suggested Liper, reflect- 
 ively, 
 
 " It cannot," she answered. " People may, 
 and they would believe, if they saw them to- 
 gether, that they are mother and daughter, but 
 BO long AS the Marchioness keeps her secret, no 
 earthly power can prove her sin." 
 
 Liper mused for a moment, and then, as- 
 suming a cold tone, and with a sullen gloom 
 upon his features, he said: 
 
 "Is tbe whole of the service of which yon 
 have spoken comprehended in the request 
 that I shall see the White Rose and persuade 
 her to visit her mother?" 
 
 " It ie," she rejoiced, and added, sarcastical- 
 ly ; " perhaps you will find the task uapleas- 
 il;g to you." 
 
 " No," fce replied, shortly. 
 
 "Why did jou put your question to me?" 
 she interrogated, with a quick, sharp glance at 
 his face. 
 
 * Because it is the last service I can execute 
 for jou," be answered, with a firm voice. 
 
 "'Tbe last!" she echoed, with unqualified 
 am 1 zenoeiit. 
 
 "I will do your bidding," he responded; 
 " but ween tbe task has been performed we 
 must part, and forever." 
 
 Sbe looked at him as if she did not hear him 
 aright. Soe glanced up at the heavens, where 
 a single star bad shone brightly ; it was yet 
 alone acd resplendent. 
 
 Sbe closed her eyes, as if she was suffering 
 a spasm -of unutterable agony, and then, as a 
 deep sigh eoaped her lips, she said, in a low 
 tone: ' Explain!'' 
 
 " It is done in a few words," he answered ; 
 " I overboard all tbat passed between you and 
 the proud Earl of Bruckleigh in the gardens 
 ot Westchester Houee." 
 
 She recoiled a few paces from him, and she 
 averted her head. 
 
 * I have loved you long, Hagar, with a fond 
 and faithful devotion," he said, in tones of 
 deep feeling. "1 loved you when but a boy, 
 and you were rapidly changing f;om girlhood 
 to womanhood. I could not then have ex- 
 pected you to regard even seriously a boy's 
 love. Yet, Hagar, a boy's love haetiiis merit, 
 it is sincere, and it ia pure, and it has far less 
 selfishness and more zeal than the worship of 
 a devotee. My love for you was euffieient to 
 induce me to abandon home, family, friends, 
 everything to enroll myself a member of 
 your tribe, to follow you like a dog, to wor- 
 ship you, and to work for you like a ehve. I" 
 did this without the hope ol ever finding my 
 Jove reciprocated. 1 believed that you had 
 loved- I assumed that your love had teen un- 
 icquited I knew tbat you had suffered. You 
 kept your secrer, so well tbat I coutd never even 
 guess it. iiut I bad forgotten that you were 
 a woman, and 1 converted you into an ideal. 
 1 should have continued to love, to follow, and 
 to serve a jilted, Buffeting, and virtuou* wom- 
 an, but mine is not a nature to prize a casket 
 from wmch tbe most valuable jewel has been 
 taken and without resistance." 
 
 Hagar groaned and ouried her face in her 
 hands'. She bowed her head beneath a 
 
HAGAE LOT ; 
 
 paroxysm of bitter anguish, and seemed as 
 though she would cower and sink to the 
 ground. 
 
 Suddenly, with a passionate cry, she tore 
 her hands from before her eyes, and with an 
 aspect of despairing rage, she tuined to make 
 scone vehement exclamation to Liper, but he 
 was no linger before her. 
 
 Turning her eyes to the distance beyond, 
 she saw a misty shadow, fleeing as if pursued 
 by some avenging spirit. She watched him 
 until he disappeared, and then she drew her 
 cloak round her and partly covered her face 
 with one of i s folds. 
 
 " We shall meet again," she muttered, "He 
 will keep his promise. Of all the world, I 
 hare faith alone in him, and we will not part 
 farever." 
 
 She eeaeed,and went elowlyon her way alone. 
 liper, however, continued bis career, and 
 did not stop until he had reached the neigh- 
 borhood of the address which Ilagar had giv- 
 en him. 
 
 Se then proceeded cautiously until he 
 Tasehed a narrow street, the centre of a com- 
 plete maze of rows of small houses. It re* 
 i? sired a clue to discover the street in which, 
 Eecordicg to Hagar, Floret lay concealed, and 
 ML elaborate plan to be carefully studied to 
 find the way out into a main thoroughfare 
 gain. 
 
 He who had trained himself to make such 
 &acx>veries, and wichcut failure, found no diffi- 
 culty in picking out the house to which he 
 T?a destined, and an ordinary person on first 
 feeing it would have supposed it to be unten- 
 wxted. There were no lights in the windows, 
 aor were there any blinds to them ; the panes 
 T?ere dust stained, and patched with old pieces 
 f brown paper where they had been broken, 
 "while the frames were black with age, and 
 looked as if a touch would crumble them to 
 
 Liper looked up and down the street, and 
 observed that there were a few persons about, 
 roiue looking out of windows, others saunter* 
 ing slowly up and down, snicking their pipes, 
 and some careful mothers hunting up their 
 tray blessings, in order that they might slap 
 them for being oui late, and hurry them as 
 Jfa&t, ay, faster thta their little legs could be 
 propelled by nature to bed, supper less. 
 
 He sauntered about slowly, too, but not in 
 gnch a marner 68 to excite suspicion in the 
 minds of those to whom he was a stranger. 
 
 As h<3 gained the end of the street he en- 
 countered a you eg member of the gipsy tribe, 
 whom he had met during one of his country 
 peregrinations, and whose quick eye reeog- 
 fuxed him as c/;aickly as he knaw him. 
 
 A few questions skilfully put enabled him 
 to learn that Dad^y Windy paseed his eve- 
 nings from niae to eleven, at a room in a pub- 
 lic-house within the immediate neighborhood, 
 hearing 3h* suggestive sign of " The Case is 
 Altered". 
 
 H??e fa was his custom to regale himself 
 with sundry glasses of odoriferous " Jamaiker", 
 
 feebly diluted with warm water, and doctored 
 with a lump or two cf very cheap loaf-sugar 
 of a d*rk whitey-brown. Since he had lost 
 his " Didnntr", he confessed to a weakness for 
 tbe beverage, wbich he said, without intending 
 to play upon tbe word, had ' slewed her". He 
 give way also to a weakness for the " fragrant 
 weed", consumed through the bowl and etem 
 of a stinking, old, black, clay pipe, darker 
 than ebony, and which, therefore, WM, in the 
 smoker's parlance, " colored beautifully". 
 
 From nice to eleven he abandoned the care* 
 of the world, surrendered himself to his mix- 
 ture, and to the charms of a conversation 
 which required a peculiar education to recip- 
 rocate. 
 
 Liper desired to learn no more ; and with- 
 standing a pressing invitation ' to stand a 
 pint", he bade his acquaintance farewell. 
 
 Seeming to quit the neighborhood, he loi-\ 
 tered about the streets until he could venture 
 to return to that in which Daddy Windy 
 dwelt ; and as he reached the corner of the 
 street he caught a glimpse of the old man 
 drawing the door cf the houee close after him. 
 
 He watched him attentively, and asw him 
 give a cat-like dart to the opposite eide of the 
 way f then rhuffla down the pavement, until he 
 turned the corner and disappeared. Not quite 
 satisfied that he had heard the tnitb, he fol- 
 lowed the old man until he perceived him en- 
 ter a low public-houee, and did not content 
 himself until, through a portion of tbe half- 
 of ened door of the room in which me Daddy 
 ei joved his nigh'ly carouse, he sair tbe old 
 man settled firmly upon a chair, filJicg his 
 pipe, and preparing to give way to his feelings 
 lor a couple of hours. 
 
 He then returned to the house in whJbh he 
 understood Floret to be concealed, and ap- 
 plied himself to the taek of effecting an en- 
 trance without beiug observed. 
 
 He tried a master-key upon the lock, and 
 almost instantly opened the door and passed 
 into a narrow passage. 
 
 He sjxst the door behind him, and was ab- 
 ruptly plunged into pitchy darkneas. He 
 groped Us way cautiously, aad quickly found 
 a flight of stairs. 
 
 Before, however, he ascended them, be as- 
 sured himself that there was no one in the 
 lower part of the house. He then began t 
 ascend, and at the top of the first and oa r / 
 flight of stairs, be saw the feeble raysof ar ri- 
 de ehinicg through the crevices and orar k of 
 the door of a back room. 
 
 He turned the handle of the lock, which he 
 quickly found, without a sound, and opening 
 tbe door, peered in. 
 
 He saw a table covered with a heap of artifi- 
 cial flowers of tbe brightest crimson, scarlet, 
 yellow, blue, green, and pur^ le hues. 
 
 By the table, seated, bending ever a wrea+h, 
 which she was making rapidly, with exquisite 
 taete, was a young, delicately-formed, t, agile- 
 looking girl. She seemed to be closely occu- 
 pied, and deeply intent upon her work. 
 
 But preeenily she turned her face, absolute- 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOH GIRL. 
 
 149 
 
 ly colorless, thin, and very, very wan, toward 
 the door. Her eyes were full of tears, and the 
 expression upon her countenance was a very 
 sorrowful ote. 
 
 Liper wt'ered an exclamation of sharp pain, 
 and Btppd iorward, ejaculating, in a :ofc and 
 plaintive voice : 
 
 Whit Rose ! O, my poor White Rose !" 
 
 She turi;d her startled eyes upon hia face, 
 
 she roan up, and seizing his extended hand, 
 
 she laid her face upon his shoulder, and sobbed 
 
 bitterly. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIV. 
 " ! come to my bosom, my own stricken dear, 
 Tfcougn tbe herd hath fl;d from thee, thy home is 
 
 8' ill here; 
 
 O, htra is tha smile that no clourl can o'ercast, 
 And the heart and the home still thine own to the 
 lait!" MOORE. 
 
 It baa been most truly said, that kindness 
 begets kindness. A proof, in support of the 
 truth of this aphorism, might have been ad- 
 duced from the feehsgs with which Floret re- 
 garded Liper Leper. 
 
 His unwearying kindness to her, his gentle 
 tenelern^Ba of manner at all times when ad- 
 dressing her, the ready spirit wbich he dis- 
 played at any moment to assist or to serve her, 
 could net fail to have their nutuml effect upon 
 a disposition like hers. HIS never-varying 
 attention and deference to her wishes, when 
 he was able to comply with them, raised with- 
 in her breast an attichment for him, wbich 
 might properly be called sisterly tffection. 
 
 There was no touch of what ia understood 
 by the word love, fondness, or passion, in tMs 
 feeling for him ; he had been so truly her 
 friend, that she regarded him as such in the 
 purest eenee cf the word. Fiiend and coun- 
 selor ; one who had served her honestly acd 
 ably, and had cirected her wisely the only 
 one" in all the world to whom she could turn 
 now for consolation and guidance. 
 
 JHo wonder that she rose up to greet him BO 
 warmly. No wonder that, overcome by her 
 emotions, she wept upon his shoulder. 
 
 He jtrazed at her face a minute with tender 
 compassion, and then, gently restoring her to 
 her feat, he bent over her and whispered : 
 
 "D:y your tears, Wnite R^eo, I bricg you 
 tidings which will lift a heavy burden of pain 
 and humiliation from your heart." 
 
 " I knew that I ehoul-l see you, Liper," she 
 , said, striving to keep down her tears. " I was 
 ., sure that you would not fail me in my darkest 
 ," hour, acd though jou have been long in com- 
 ing, jou have come at last.'"' 
 
 " If my heart were lees ea^, White Rose," he 
 said, in a soft tone, " I should smile at your 
 belitf in my preternatural powers. You have 
 alwajBtx.jecLtd eetmiDg impossibilities at my 
 hands, in the full f*uh that I could euraaount 
 them at w?i), end I have been BO fortunate as 
 xnod'ly to conquer them. When I have hai 
 the power to serve you, I have used it ; while 
 I havrt the power to continue to do so, I will 
 exert it ; therefore I am here," 
 
 ' O Liper! 1 can, from my childhood, bear 
 
 testimony to your constant endeavor to light- 
 en the load of affliction that I have borne, and 
 I have fair.h in your readiness to do so still, 
 although I have lost all hope forever. I have 
 been looking for you ay, L'per, yearning to 
 see y^u. You were my brother when I had 
 no brother, and you will be so sail." 
 
 " So long aa you need me, White Rose- 
 yea," he returned. 
 
 I need your counsel greatly," ehe said, 
 with much earnestness ; 4 and you will give ifc 
 me with impartiality and truthfulness, although 
 you may believe that it is against my own in- 
 clinations, will you not? Ah! I kaosr you 
 will, Liper." 
 
 "White Rose," he said, looking at hep 
 gravely and earnestly, "you were wont to 
 think and act for yourself; sorrow and suffer- 
 ing must have made an inroad, indeed, in your 
 energy, when it impels you to speak to me ia 
 such a fashion as this." 
 
 " Yoa know not what has occurred to me, 
 Liper," she said, slowly turning her head away 
 from him. 
 
 "I know much," he answered. "I was 
 anxious to know what Hagar Lot would have 
 to communicate to you when you were at the 
 Gipsies' Home, and claimed your right to be 
 free of all the race who pretended to a title to 
 wield a power over you, which none of them 
 possessed, and I, therefore, concealed^ myeelf 
 where I could overhear all that she said. My 
 motive was a strong one ; I wil) give .it to you 
 presently. I, consequently, know her version 
 of your history, and, therefore, one great cause 
 for your unhappiness." 
 
 "One cause," she repeated, almost reproaoh- 
 fully; " was it not enough .?" 
 
 u If it were true, certainly," he rejoined ; 
 " but it is not true," he added, emphatically. 
 
 "I have heard further statemtnts relative 
 to my wretched history," she responded, with 
 a deep fcigh, " which change some of the in- 
 cidents and the characters, but tiie bitter facta 
 remain, Liper. H.gar, misnamed my my- 
 the word chokes rue, Liper, I am the child 
 of her for whom I uaed to pray for as poor 
 Godmamma Shelley." 
 
 She turned away and covered her eyea with 
 her hands, while her bosom heaved convuls- 
 ively. 
 
 "Who told you this?" he asked, 'almcs ; 
 fiercely. 
 
 " One who, at least, should be a competent 
 authority," ehe returned, in a faint tone. 
 
 " It was a lie, White Rose a base, a vicked 
 lie, whoe . er told it," he exclaimed, with eome 
 excitement. " What more competent author- 
 ity can there exist upon this point than my- 
 self, and I say it 13 aa iniquificua lie !" 
 
 " You an authority, Liper?" she said, with 
 surprise. 
 
 " Why not?" lie returned. " Reflect nay, 
 I will briefly prove to you what an authority 
 I am. I was concealed near to Hager Lot 
 when the Marchioness of We?tchester instruct- 
 ed her to steal you from Beachborough. I 
 stole you sleeping from jour bed. I was with 
 
150 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 Hagar Lot when the Marchioness saw you in 
 the wood, and, overcome by her feelings, 
 fainted. Would she have fainted, think you, 
 if you had been the child oi Fanny Shelley ?" 
 
 Floret listened to him now with breathless 
 eagerness. 
 
 " White Rose, after that night we were much 
 together, and I saw nothing, heard nothing of 
 the Marchioness of Weaichester ; but there 
 came a time when we were parted. You 
 were recovered by Susan Atten at Ascot Races. 
 I etill continued a slave to H&gar Lot. I 
 accompanied her to Raby HalJ, in Wiltshire ; 
 for there she had succes ive interviews wiih 
 the Marchionees ot Westchester, upon what 
 subjects I had to employ the best means I 
 could to learn. Hagar did not reveal a word 
 to me, but I gathered sufficient to guess all. 
 Now, mark this I H*gar instructed me to fol- 
 low the Marchionees, who was about to under- 
 take a secret journey, and she bade me not 
 only ascertain whither she went, but to whom 
 she epoke, and, if possible, the subject of any 
 conversa'ion that might take place. I follow- 
 ed the Marchioness, not without some hazard, 
 and much difficulty and perseverance. She 
 went to Brighton, and stayed at a great hotel 
 tbere. I watched the house while she was 
 within it. She entered a cutler's shop and 
 purchased a knife. Sae hired a carriage, and 
 proceeded along a road which ran by the side 
 of the sea. The carriage stopped near to a 
 church. She entered that church. I flitted 
 in after her, and concealed myt elf. I heard 
 her ask for a book, which was the register of 
 marriages which had taken place in that 
 church. It was given to her. She made an 
 excuse to get rid of the clerk who attended 
 upon her ; and the instant he was gone, she 
 bowed down over the book. I listened attent- 
 ively, and I heard the sharp run of a knife 
 over the paper. When she rose up, she hastily 
 crushed a sheet of paper in her hand, and then 
 hid it away. She returned to Raby Hall, and 
 concealed it in a cabinet. 
 
 " White Rose, behold it !" 
 
 He drew from his coat, as he spoke, a folded 
 sheet of paper, and opened it. 
 
 He spread it out before her, and pointed to 
 
 " Read it carefully," he resumed. " You see 
 this is the register of a marriage between Con- 
 atance Neville the name Plantagenet is omit- 
 ted, but that is of no consequence, Neville is 
 one of her father's names and of Lennox Ber- 
 tram, who was then Viscount Bertram, and 
 who is now Earl of Brackleigh. This is the 
 ORIGINAL CEKTIFICAT! Preserve it as you 
 would your life, for it proclaims your legiti- 
 macy, as it records the marriage of the pair of 
 Whom Hagar spoke so falsely." 
 
 Floret read t' e certificate a dozen times 
 with intense eagerness, and then ebe looked 
 up atLiper with, an utterly mystified and be- 
 wildered aspect. She placed her finger upon 
 the name of Bertram. 
 
 "It was he who told me that I was the 
 
 daughter of Fanny Shelley," she exclaimed, in 
 an undertone. 
 
 The brows of Li per lowered. He looked 
 fixedly at ber. 
 
 ' W hen did he tell you this, and under what 
 circumstances?" he inquired. 
 
 Sae replied by repealing to nim every in- 
 cident that took place while she wua etajing 
 at Brackleigh Mansion. 
 
 When sha *iad ceased, he, after musing for 
 a few taiautes, said 
 
 " lie has a weighty motive for not acknowl- 
 edging you." 
 
 41 What can it be ?" she asked with distress. 
 
 " Yon w-U observe," he replied, tl that this 
 certificate is dated tn the year 18o2 ; the Earl 
 of Bracklcigb. married his pretent wife in 
 1834, and the Marchioness the Marquis of 
 Weatchester about the samo time, or shortly 
 after. The first marriage is legal ; the second 
 is not. If the secret were to be publicly made 
 known, the Earl would be made to Buffer the 
 penalty of the law ; which, in bis case, would 
 be severe. Therefore, it' ha knew you to be 
 his daughter, it would be to his interest to con- 
 ceal it. The Marchioness ttands in the eame 
 position." 
 
 Floret clasped her hands. 
 
 " Fate wearies not of persecuting me," ehe 
 exclaimed. 
 
 L-per raised his hand deprecatingly. 
 
 " Listen to me, White Kose," he said quiet- 
 ly and firmly. " Let us probe the situation to 
 the very eeat of the cai.ker. When we are 
 acquainted with the worst, we shall know bet- 
 ter how to grapple with the position. The 
 possession of that register proves, beyond the 
 possibility of dispute, that Constance Plan- 
 tagf net was married to Lennox Bertram, but 
 it affords no proof that they were your parents. 
 You resemble the Marchioness of Westeheat- 
 er to an extraordinary degree, and there ia no 
 moral doubt but that you are her daughter, 
 yet there ia no legal proof of it. The secret 
 of your birth was kept by the Marchioness 
 and Fanny Shelley ; the latter is dead ; the 
 Marchionees alone can furnish the proof you 
 require. Will she make the admission, think 
 you?" 
 
 Floret hung down her head. 
 
 " It must be tried," said Liper. " She is a 
 woman, with a woman's heart. Conventional- 
 ism has hardened it to some extent, but not so 
 much as to drown the voice of nature. Dare 
 you face her ? Remember how much of your 
 future happiness depends upon her admission 
 to you that you are her child I What matters 
 tbe circumstances which led her to the iearlul 
 step she has taken ? They may be unfortu- 
 nate, perhaps wicked, but you will prove to 
 yourself that TOU are not basely, but honor- 
 ably and nobly born ; and *i!l not that 
 knowledge sustain you, and enable you to face 
 End bear any cr all other evils ?'' 
 
 Fioietdrew lureelf up erect, and with a 
 proud, firm bearing, which brought a finish, of 
 saueiiiction to Liper's cheek, ehe euid : 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 151 
 
 ' I feel that I am not base-born, that I have 
 within njy veins the blood wf the high born 
 and the noble, and terrible as may be fch taek 
 of lacing u<sr wuo is, but who U* not acted to 
 Hie as, u>y mother, it shall not daunt me. 
 Armed witn cuts document, there is nothiug 
 that I snail (ear, no one */uom I will cot face, 
 nothing that I wiil not dare to be able to 
 kneel and otter tip my thanks to Heaven, that 
 if it has seen fib to cliasten, affltct, and try me 
 ore]y, even to make me an outcast, it has not 
 doomed me to Da nameless." 
 
 " fc> ome or your old s piri 1 ; epoke there, spring- 
 flower," txclaimed Liper, eyeing ber witn 
 quiet admiration. "You will hare occasion 
 for ail ol it that you can rouse into action, for 
 there is much yet to be done- I will conduct 
 you to a spot where you shall meet the Mar- 
 chioness oi Westchester face to face, where 
 she cannot rush from you without uttering a 
 word, and where she must listen to yovi. I 
 leave to you the task of winning or wringing 
 from her an acknowledgment of you; but I shall 
 be prepared to learn that while with her eyes, 
 her manner, her emotion, she confesses you to 
 be her child ay, her only child she, with 
 her tongue, will refuse to concede it. In that 
 event it will lead you to adopt another less 
 satisfactory course, but one which must result 
 in success. Circumstantial evidence, where 
 the chain is cirect, though a link be deficient, 
 will certainly be received as conclusive as if 
 the link were not lost at all." 
 
 He paused for an instant only, as if to con- 
 centrate his energies on what he had further 
 to communicate to her. Taking a deep in- 
 spiration, he resumed : 
 
 tk There is also another contingency against 
 which we must provide. I feel a deep reluc- 
 tance to mention it to you, but you have more 
 than one enemy, White Rose, thoagh you 
 have given occasion to no living creature to 
 breathe a wish to injure you, and we must be 
 prepared against all. Much as you have seen 
 of gipsy life, and of the people of various 
 tribes, there are many eecrets possessed by 
 them which are wholly unknown to you. I, 
 who am not a gipsy born, and only partly 
 gipsy bred, have become master of most of 
 them, through a never-dormant spirit of in- 
 quiry which inhabits my breast. One of the 
 branches of secret knowledge which gipsies 
 possess is the properties and effects of various 
 vegetable poisons. Of these there is one, 
 known orly to them, which elays its victim 
 and leaves behind no trace of its deadly pres- 
 ence. It is known among us by the came of 
 drei. It is obtained from a fungus which grows 
 only in peculiar epots and at particular sea 
 eona ; it must only be gathered when it is at a 
 certain stage, and it requires wondrous care 
 and knowledge in the manner of drying and 
 preparing it. When reatfy for use, it resem- 
 bles a brown, impalpable duet. A pinch ot it 
 dropped into a liquid, or on to any edible sub- 
 stance, even an apple or a strawberry, would 
 be swallowed without cetecaug any unpleas- 
 antness of taste, and it would be lataL The 
 
 symptoms which first appear are, an irritation 
 m the throat and a tendency to cough. The 
 cough iacreasea rapidly, followed by burning 
 fever, then ensuos the bursting of a blood ves- 
 sel, and then death. None of the symptoms arc 
 such as to rouse a suspicion even in the mind 
 of the medical attendant of the presence of 
 poison, and he prescribes the ordinary medi- 
 cines in vain. The patient dioa under his 
 hand, however skillful his treatment. The 
 reason is this : as soon as the grains cf powder 
 are swallowed, they attach themselves to the 
 lining of the throat, chest, and lungs, they 
 instantly germinate, and grow with enormous 
 rapidity. They throw out long, 6ilkn fila- 
 ments, no thicker than a fine hair, and these 
 clog every attempt at breathing, ffature tries 
 co rid herself of them by the action of cough- 
 ing, and destroys itself." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 Floret listened to him with a species of af- 
 frighted fascination, and, with a sickening 
 sensation, she said : 
 
 " But, laper, why do you speak of this poi- 
 son to me ?" \ 
 
 "Because, "White Rose," he ad^ed, in a 
 marked and significant tone, ' the Marchion- 
 ess of Weatcbeeter nas some of this poison in 
 her possession." 
 
 Sue drew herself up haughtily, anl, in an 
 offended tone, eaid : 
 
 " Liper, you do not thin\ of whom you are 
 speaking Do not offer such horrible sugges- 
 tions to me, or I shall not like you." 
 
 He shook his head with a mournful expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " I would that I had it not to say, White 
 Rose," he replied, in a subdued tone ; " but it 
 is better that I should incur your displeasure 
 now, by warning you, than lament, when too 
 late, that I had not risked your anger and told 
 you all. Hagar Lot also posseeees some of 
 tbia devilish powder, and she is not your 
 friend." 
 
 " I have always shrurk from that strange 
 woman with a kind of instinctive aversion," ( 
 exclaimed Floret, with a elight shudder. 
 
 "You may continue to do so," rejoined Li- 
 per, significantly, " but do not let her know 
 that you entert-in such a fetling against her* 
 She is subtle, and, I fear, lemorselees. She is 
 very dexterous, too, and will pause at nothing 
 to accomplish her ends. It she determines 
 upon your destruction, nothing will save you 
 from the administration of the poison by her. 
 You will discover thin when you find yourself 
 attacked by a sudden dry ness in the throat. 
 The poison will then have begun to operate, 
 and no medical skill will avail to save you." * 
 
 " Is there notbing existing which wjil coun- 
 teract its baleful effects V she asked, with a 
 terrified look. 
 
 ' There is," returned Liper ; " long and pa- 
 tient search and experiments have enabled me 
 to discover an antidote. I have tried it upon 
 myself, after swallowing some drei, and am a- 
 Bured of its perfect efficacy." 
 
153 
 
 HAGAR LOT; 
 
 He produced a small bottle of a whitish 
 green liquid, and g-ave it to her. 
 
 "A few drops of that in a glass of water, 
 B wallowed immediately you fe^l that the fi;st 
 symptom of the poison haa developed itself, 
 will destroy tha effect of the venomous fungus, 
 and eradicate it from the system. Carry it 
 always about you. It will prove effectual 
 even when the poison is in its most virulent 
 stage." 
 
 1 She took it from him with an expression of 
 thankfulness, and concealed it in the bosom 
 of her dress. 
 
 * A few more words to you, "White Rose, and 
 then I must depart," he said, with an uncon- 
 t cealed sadness of tone. "I must have your 
 pronsise to meet me, wherever you please to 
 ; name, on the tbird evenicg from t Lis, that I 
 ! may conduct, you to the presence of the Mar- 
 I chionees of Weatchester. Will jou give it to 
 me of your own frf e inclining, for if you shriek 
 from t&e crdeal, you shall net " 
 
 " I do not shriak from it, Liper," she inter- 
 i posed, quickly. I will meet you, and I will 
 see her ; death from her hand would be pref- 
 | eralle to life, without the interchange of one 
 (word with her my mother, Liper, whom, 
 knowingly, I have never seen, to whom I have 
 never spoken." 
 
 j " The Daddy leaves this house at nine every 
 night, does he cot?" he aeked. 
 I " He does !" returned Floret. 
 
 " And returns at eleven ?" he continued. 
 
 "I believe so!" she answered. "I have 
 taken little heed of his going or coming since 
 I have been here." 
 
 | " On the third night from this, I will be at 
 , the corner of the street, awaiting you, imme- 
 diately after the Dadcy is away from this 
 house," he added. 
 
 | "I will join you, Liper, if I live," she re- 
 turned. 
 
 "And you must never return to this equalid 
 home again," he said, firmly. 
 j She turned her head away. 
 
 " I cid not expect to find you with the Dad- 
 dy again, Wiiite Rose," he eaid, in a elighlly- 
 reprovicg tcne, after a moment's pause; 
 . " wherever you might have sought an a&ylum, 
 I did not believe that it would have been be- 
 neath his ro f." 
 
 I tohe turned to him and said, rapidly and im- 
 petuously : 
 
 " I ires taunted with my birth. I was told 
 that I was the offspring of shame, the child of 
 'a poor village-girl, wno had been deceived 
 and abandoned. I regarded mjteif as one of 
 . the meanest, if not the meanest, of God's crea- 
 tures upon earth; I fled from the taunt, from 
 the brand of humiliation and ehame. I flea 
 from mytelf, I knew not, cared not, whither : 
 it might have betn to death in my then frame 
 of micd is would huve been my Jbappieet ha- 
 ven. Nay, I was upon its ver^e, but my bet- 
 ter a?gel held me back. Sliii I fler 4 , as if pur 
 flued by biases of scorn, by hoo B of insult, b? 
 pointing fiugers, by mockiag ciiea .and ,ibc3, 
 l>y woida cf bitter reproacn. Lipsr! you 
 
 cannot know what horrors I endured during 
 that terrible flight. I knew not where I was ; 
 at a moment that I felt Nature could undergo 
 no further exertion, and I was about to sink 
 with exhaustion, the form of the Diddy ap- 
 peared before me. Repulsive aa it had always 
 been, it was welcome now. He was the only 
 being living who knew me wkom I wished to 
 know me." 
 
 " White Rose," exclaimed Liper, reproach- 
 fully. She waved her hand. 
 
 "I was at the time frenzied," she said, in 
 the same hurried tone. " Still I remembered 
 that the old man lived in the meanest and 
 most secluded looaliry, and I thought that the 
 wretched home woulct afford me an un discov- 
 erable retreat, in which to hide my ehame. I 
 spoke to him a few words words which I 
 knew would prevent him receiving me, or at- 
 tempt to exert any control over me, excepfc 
 upon roy own terms, lie joyfully recognized 
 me, and brought me to this place. I offered to 
 pay him his demand for two miserable rooms 
 and my food ; he agreed to suppty me with 
 work, by which I could raise the means to pay 
 him. You see it before you," the said, point- 
 ing to the heaps o/ artificial flowers which 
 were upon the table and the floor, close to 
 where sbe had been sitticg. " It is the toil of 
 tbe elave," she continued, speakirg with bit- 
 terness; "labor from dawn to midnight, to 
 earn a wretched sum, barely adequate to the 
 support of life, and leavicg notning for the 
 supply of other tbings which Ere equally ne- 
 cessaries with food. Wi.y is it, Liper, that 
 longer hours cf labor should be demanded and 
 expected from woman than from man, and 
 that they thould be paid so much, so very 
 much ICES for their work?" 
 
 Liper shrugged his (shoulder?, and looked 
 around him. 
 
 " You are weary of your toil, White Rose 
 you may well be,-' be answered. *' You are in 
 a fittirg mood to leave it behind you ; it has 
 been one more weight added to jour burden, 
 and you must not omit it in tfce li*t jou will 
 have to submit to the proud Marc'aionees of 
 Westcheeter. Let all such, however, end 
 here," he concluded ; you have higher capa- 
 bilities than are required in the manu f ac ure 
 of such tbings as these upon winch you have 
 been emplojirg yourself, and such a home as 
 this is no home for you. R? member, White 
 Rote, that the crimes of others do not make 
 you guilty ; that thtir thameful acts do cot 
 make you ehamefal ; that it ia, iLdfet-d, jcur 
 duty to redeem in your pereoa, so f-r sa you 
 can, the errors of wbich they have been 
 guil l y. Should the worst come to the worst, 
 and you prefer to live ia retirement, vi h that 
 regis er inyour poeeemcn, and ina c )LV/C ica 
 in your mind tnatjou ere legiumattly fn- 
 titled to a high and proud nsme, jou r&ay 
 live in peace, in reepectabiiky, and in com- 
 fort." 
 
 She looked at him, asd placed her hands in 
 hi, end eid, ith a forced and sorrowful 
 smile : 
 
OR. THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 153 
 
 "At school, while worMog at the classics, 
 Lipar; there was an aphorism with which I 
 met, aad which was ufterward ic<*e8Btti,t?y 
 running in my mind ; it was : * Aut Casar aut 
 nullusl' I will be the daughter of a mar- 
 chioneps. or tbe Poor Girl! ' 
 
 * I will not argue with you now on this 
 point," Jbe rejoined ; " but if i*eed f >r it should 
 arise, I wiil argue with you until I bring you 
 to my way of thinking. Farewell, Waite 
 Rose, remember your appointment, and keep 
 it." 
 
 He pressed her hands, and glided swiftly 
 away, leaving her in a far ca'mer frame of 
 mind than that in which he had found her. 
 
 A*, tbe hour, and en the night appointed, 
 Li per was at hia post. 
 
 He watched the Daddy appear from tbe 
 door of bia house, and go through the same 
 stealthy and cat-like performance ts before. 
 He followed him round to the corner of tbe 
 street, nod saw him enter the publie-houee, 
 and then he returned to the appointed spot. 
 
 Floret was there. 
 
 "Without a word he led the way to a street 
 in which stood a cab. He handed her into it, 
 and mounted the box with the coachman, and, 
 after a long drive, the vehicle stopped ac- 
 cording to his directions. 
 
 He jumped down, bade the driver wait, and 
 assisting Floret out, conducted her through 
 several turnings. He paused before a door 
 let into a long'briek wall, and opening it, ad- 
 mitted her. 
 
 "Do not speak a word to any one," ne 
 whispered, " and tread softly ! ;> 
 
 In a another minute she was confronted by 
 Hagar Lot, who gazed at her for a moment 
 sternly. Then a savage smile broke over her 
 face. 
 
 She beckoned Floret to follow her, and, by 
 a secret entrance, obtained admission to a 
 large house. 
 
 She accessed several flights of narrow 
 stairs, and paused before a door. 
 
 This she opened without a sound. 
 
 "Enter there," she whispered to Floret, 
 pointing to a gorgeously-tarnished room, 
 lighted by a brilliant lamp. 
 
 With a beating heart, but with a prond 
 step, Floret obeved her. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXV. 
 
 The circle smiled, tben whisper'd, and then Hjeer'3 ; 
 
 The naiss; a brvilerl, and the rcatror.s f rown d ; 
 Some hoped thtBgsmiijhtDottnfncutfcjtheyfear'd : 
 
 iicma wou'd n: tdeem such wunen ciuld bofouLd ! 
 8 jnaeLe'.rbelit redone h*lf of what they heard ; 
 
 S-me 1 'ok'd perplexM, and others look'd pro- 
 
 f.ur.d; 
 
 Ard several pitted wUh sincere regret 
 Poor Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagentt." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 Whn the Marchioness of Westcheater quit- 
 ted the E-trl of Brack'eigb, hia burning glan 
 cea were glitrericg before her eyes, hia fervid 
 wore s were quivering in her ears, and an al 
 most overpowering thrill was pervading her 
 Lame, for she had once more reoliued upon 
 
 lia shoulder, had orce again inaUooUvely 
 \ieMedi to his embrace, and had fth the waim 
 pressure of hia hand. 
 
 Alas ! the emotion was only too pleasurable 
 to her. She had once loved him wua ar ent 
 atd unselfidh sinctri'v, btciuse she bedved 
 him to he the beau ideal of a man, not oiily 
 physicully but icentilJy. He hid foieed her 
 to despise him, but the love she had borne 
 Lim had sever been eradicated. 
 
 She loved Mai sail ; loved him, slthongh 
 she scorned him ; but that, unfonunauly for 
 her, was an attribute of her womau'a tature. 
 It is rare to find an instance of a woman'* love 
 turning to hate af'er she discovers the an 
 who has won her aff c?ion to be no heterthan 
 a selfish knave. Woman's hate may spring 
 out of contemned love, io peldnm does out of 
 her inward contempt for the object ot ber af- 
 fection. No womin wiil acknowledge that 
 fcbe can, does, or could love a man wbom she 
 at the same time must despiee ; bun ei 
 nevertheless. Byron certainly had 
 in his mind when he wrote : 
 
 11 Mac's love is of man's life a thing apart, 
 'Tis woman's wbole existence." 
 
 It was true, at least, of the Marchioness of 
 Westchester. 
 
 She hurried to the summer bouee, as had 
 been arranged by ber pretty male', Ftiue Nat 
 Ferret's second, and, as yet, tt'ongeet weak- 
 cess and had barely tiace ta arrange hereelf 
 in a peneive attitude, naturally enough as- 
 sumed by her, whea ebe heaid a etiid footstep 
 upon tbe gravel path near to her ; presently it 
 paused before tbe deor, and a head was publied 
 forward into the more than gemi-darknede,aiid 
 a voice exclaim* d : 
 
 " L*dy Westchester, are you here ?" 
 
 Faint, quivering, trecibliDg, with a strange 
 sickness at heart, and an iuvoluntatily ten- 
 dency to sigh, deeply, which ehe feJt herself 
 powerlees to prevent, ehe roee up and moved 
 out of the summer-house. 
 
 The M'rq"i3 stood before her he gazed at 
 her sternly and questioningly. 
 
 "Tmaia a new and fttran^e caprice of yours, f 
 Lady Weatclieeter," he said, in a low, sneering, 
 tone. 
 
 "Will your lordship condecend to explain! 
 your meaning to me? ! ' she replied, ia ES cold, 
 and haughty a tone aa frhe could command. 
 
 44 1 allude to your wandering aithisstrdEge-i 
 ly late and unseemly hour, alore 
 tended," he returned, bidug LIB lip. 
 ia your motive?" 
 
 4 - My wiill" she replied, with contra cto<3 
 brows. 
 
 " And it will be mine, La<?y W< stcheeter, 
 that you do not repeat thia iuiprucnce," he 
 returned, quickly. 
 
 He heard a low, scornful laugh e?cape her 
 lips. He grated his teein together, a^d then 
 added : : 
 
 " Your movements have been strangely er- 
 ratic of late, Lady Westchester. Wor Lever I 
 have occasion to speak wicn you, i r > herua ^bat 
 I can learn nothing of your inovtuiema 
 
 "What 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 my people, and when compelled to seek for 
 you myself, 1 fiod ' ; 
 
 44 Fane," interposed the Marchioness, tarn- 
 ing to ner maid, who was following them, and 
 speaking ia a light, scoffing tone, which made 
 the Mirquis writhe, " you will not forget, in 
 the morniug, to provide a silken cord, one end 
 of which the Marquis may affix to my girdle, 
 and the other to nia own wrist. What color 
 shall the silken fetters be, Weatchester 
 rose?" 
 
 The Marquis turned sharply and beheld the 
 maid close at his elbow. lie started, and eaid 
 eternly to her, as he pointed to the house : 
 I "You can go in!" 
 
 s Nay!> interposed the Marchioness, with 
 the same affected playfulness of tone ; " I can- 
 not for a short time dispense with the assist- 
 ance of Fane. My erratic movements have 
 somewhat disordered my attire and hair. I 
 must have them restored to that normal con- 
 dition of which the proprieties of society ap- 
 prove. Does your lordship wish to speak 
 with me?" 
 
 44 1 do, Lady Westchester," he said, grandly. 
 
 " And alone ?" she pursued. * 
 
 " Alone I" he repeated. 
 
 "Ever obedient to your wish, Lord West- 
 Chester," she said, frigidly, but with a glitter- 
 ing eye. " I will attend you in your study a 
 few minutes hence, but I must first claim the 
 indulgence of being allowed to retire to my 
 own chamber, in order that my toilet, when 
 I again appear before you, may be all that 
 jour lordship's most fastidious sense of deco- 
 rum will approve." 
 
 The Marquis grated his teeth together, but 
 he remained silent. The Marchioness knew 
 that he woald do so ; she had adopted the 
 spirit and tone of her observations to him be- 
 fore Fane, in order that she mis;ht silence him. 
 She knew what gall and poison she was pour- 
 ing into his ears, and she derived a species of 
 vicious gratification from the knowledge. 
 
 No man can so deeply wound the suscepti- 
 bilities of his own eex as can a woman. She 
 knows so exactly where and how to stab him ; 
 and, curious problem thai she ie, ghe will do 
 this at all times in sport, and wonder after- 
 ward, when the results of her mischievous 
 mirth begin to show themselves, that her bit- 
 ter and dangerous insinuations should ever 
 have been taken in earnest. 
 
 Tne Marquis of Westcaester stalked up to 
 the house m eilent moodiness. He halted as 
 they all entered a room by a French window. 
 I , was lighted by a massivo gilt chandelier. 
 He palled out his w*tch and examined it, and 
 in a voice which was scarcely audible, he 
 eaid: 
 
 *' I shall expect your ladyship in my study 
 in a quarter of an hour from this time. It ia 
 now ten o'clock, Lady Westchester." 
 
 Tne Muchioness turned to her maid, and in 
 a toue that ebe hud never before condescended 
 to address to her, she said : 
 
 " I thipk we saall require ten minutes long- 
 er graceeh, Fane?" 
 
 The maid, whoeeface was aa white M mft> 
 ble, bent respectfully, and said, faintly : 
 
 "Yee, my lady." 
 
 The Mtiquia darted a sharp and angry 
 glance at Fane, and was by means re -assured 
 when be observed how pale and frightened 
 one looked. 
 
 ' At half past ten I will attend your lord- 
 ship/' resumed the Marchioness, addressing 
 him with seeming ease, '-if I may trespass on 
 your lordship's gracious consideration for the 
 longer term." 
 
 He only bowed, he would not trust himself 
 to reply, and quitted the room *ith an uncon- 
 cerned aspect cf iil-humor. 
 
 At half- past ten, the Marchioness appeared 
 before him, dressed for an evening party. He 
 stared at her with amazement. 
 
 " Are you going out to-night, Lady West- 
 Chester ?" he exclaimed, in an angry tone, 
 
 " I am going out to-tight, Lord Wtstches- 
 ter," ehe answered, slowly and composedly, as 
 t-he fastened a bracelet upon her wrist. 
 
 " You amaze me," he exclaimed, with a 
 movement in his throat, ts if he were half suf- 
 focated. 
 
 She looked up at him and smiled such a 
 pmiie. li gave him a sensation of faintness. 
 There appeared to be in it an expression of 
 reckless determination, as though she knew 
 that she was about to violate some law, social 
 or moral, and would suffer no consideration to 
 deter her from ber purpose. 
 
 " Ought I to have requested permission of 
 your lordship before I accepted the engage- 
 ment of this evening ?" she asked, in a taunt- 
 ing tone. " It has not been our usual course 
 of proceeding ; but life, I am told, ia full of 
 changes. Do we enter upon the new arrange- 
 ment to night, Lord Weetchester ?" 
 
 Again he appeared to feel as if he were 
 chokirg, but by a strong effort he concealed 
 as much of his emotion as he could. 
 
 " Where are you going, Lady Westchester ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " I have told you," she said, glancing at her 
 white, round, polished shoulders ; " to fulfill 
 an engagement which I have accepted." 
 
 He bit his upper lip beneath his moustache 
 with a force almost sufficient to bite it 
 through. 
 
 " An engagement, Madam, with whom?" h 
 interrogated, sternly. "At least, it is my 
 privilege to ask that." 
 
 She arranged the email and beautiful bou- 
 quet which was fastened in the centre of the 
 bosom of her drees, and replied with an elon- 
 gated 
 
 " Ye es !" 
 
 He waited for her to proceed, but presently 
 she said, wiih an impatient tone : 
 
 " What have you to say to me, Westches- 
 ter ? Why do you not say it ? You will make 
 me* late for my appointment ft that ia, I 
 promised to be early." 
 
 " Promised whom, Lady Westchsster?" he 
 exclaimed, furiously. " I insist upon you tell- 
 ing mo that." 
 
OR, THE FATE OP THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 155 
 
 She looked at him between her half-closed 
 eyes. 
 
 "How demonstrative yon have grown of 
 late, Westchester," she remarked, with a scorn- 
 ful curl upon her upper lip, and added, with 
 an affected surprise, which almost drove him 
 frantic : ** What can possibly have occurred 
 to draw you out of vour usual apathetic, cold 
 indifference to everything even to me? I 
 should almost have felt disposed to add that 
 last remark seriously, but that I have been so 
 long to ?eu the object of unconcern, and and 
 distant contemplation, only that it would 
 ha^e been an absurdity for me to have dragged 
 it in as though I meant it." 
 
 He rose to his feet, trembling with rage 
 the worst of all rage jealous rage. 
 
 " Lady Westchester," he commenced, mak- 
 ing almost superhuman efforts to apeak cold- 
 ly, but firmly ; " I will not condescend to re- 
 fer to your taunts to say nothing harsher of 
 them, they are both unbecoming and un- 
 worthy of you but I will know not only where 
 you are going, but whom you are going to 
 meet" 
 
 She re -arranged a bracelet, and fixed her 
 eyes steadfastly upon it, and said, in an indif- 
 ferent, almost drawling tone : 
 
 "Re ] ly, Westchester, I imagined that you 
 did not concern yourself one jot about where 
 I go, or whom I meet." 
 
 " You find, Madam, that you are mistaken. 
 I am resolved that I will know both," he said, 
 trying to moisten his parched lips with his yet 
 more parched tongue. 
 
 " Indeed, I think you very foolish," she re- 
 plied, with a short laugh. 
 
 He stamped his foot, and cried, fiercely : 
 
 "Lady Westcheater, this banter ia indecent. 
 You shall not leave this roof, Madam, unless I 
 know where you are going, and the name of 
 the person whom you have arranged to meet. 
 When I have that information, I shall know 
 how to act." 
 
 She sat down upon a chair, and laughed 
 with seemingly great enjoyment. He grew 
 livid with passion, and gripped her so sharp- 
 ly ny the wrist, that she screamed with pain. 
 
 Then she rose up with her usual proud, 
 haughty mein, and by an exertion of consider- 
 able strength, flung off his hand. 
 
 She glanced at him scornfully, from toe to 
 crest, and said, contemptuously : 
 
 " You forget yourself, my Lord Marquis of 
 Westchester." 
 
 He threw his clenched hands in the air, and 
 exclaimed, passionately : 
 
 "I will endure this torture no longer. I 
 will not be the scoffed, the scorned, the de- 
 rided, as well as the duped. 
 
 " The whet? Lord Westchester!" she inter- 
 posed, sharply so sharply end distinctly, that 
 it somewhat recalled him to a calmer frame of 
 mind. Then she added, as for & moment he 
 remained silent : 
 
 " Beware how you make assertions which 
 you are unable to support by proof. Your 
 
 insinuations I despise, your assumptions I hold 
 in contempt ; but your assertions are deliber- 
 ate charges, and if you make one against me, 
 bearing reference to the observation which 
 you have just made, I will compel you to 
 prove it." 
 
 "You will compel me to prove it, Lady 
 Westchester?" he returned, wish unqualified 
 amazement. "May I aak you in wba* shape?" 
 
 "By an application to the Ecclesiastical 
 Court for a divorce," she said, with a peculiar 
 and a bitter emphasis, which appeared to beat 
 him down with their terrible force : for he tot- 
 tered and staggered, and sank into his seat 
 again. " You will there have the opportunity 
 of bringing forward your charges, and of sub- . 
 stantiating them, if you can!" 
 
 " Woman, you torture me to madness !" he 
 cried, and flinging his arms upon the table, he 
 bowed his head upon them. 
 
 She gazed upon him with an expression of 
 compassion, commiseration, or even pity visi- 
 ble upon her countenance, and there was a 
 strange, head glitter in her eye, which told that 
 the worst part of her nature was then in the 
 ascendant. She looked at him and spoke to 
 him as if be were an incumbrance, an annoy- 
 ance, a troublesome object in her way one 
 whose absence would leave ber free as air. 
 
 Yet she did not wish to take the initative to 
 bring about a separation between them ; she 
 was anxious to force him to act, and with that 
 object she determined, as she knew how, to 
 work upon his proud, susceptible nature, to 
 goad him into a mad hatred of her, the result 
 of which would be, that he would pause at 
 nothing to wrench his liberty from him. 
 
 She did not take ir.to her calculations two 
 facts ; ons that he really loved her ; and the 
 other, that when a man over fifty falls in love, 
 his passion mostly becomes an infatuation 
 that no cruelty on the part of the woman can 
 dispel. 
 
 As she gazed upon his convulsed frame, she 
 did not euppoEe that she had extorted from 
 him a passionate burst of scalding tears. She 
 imagined that t is quiverirg limbs betokened 
 only suppressed rage ; and the efftcc of hia 
 agony was not, therefore, the same upon her 
 mind as it might have been if she had judged 
 it truthfully. She therefore replied, coldly : 
 
 " You torture yourself, Lord Westcheater, 
 and please to throw the responsibility upon 
 my shoulders. I beg that this childish scene 
 may end I am pressed for time. You bad 
 better defer the communication which you 
 have to make until the morning ; I can tiien 
 give you the day if that will be long 
 enough." 
 
 He rose up ; his face was as white as if life 
 had departed from it. 
 
 " Do you yet refuse to inform me whither 
 you are going to-night?" he eaid, ia a voice 
 which had a tone of desperation in it. 
 
 Sbe only glanced at him, and again busied 
 herself in touching and disposing of the flow- 
 ers in her bosom. 
 
 "Eefuse you, Lord Westchenter," she re- 
 
isa 
 
 HAGAK LOT ; 
 
 plied, with a supercilious smile. " I have never 
 refused any such thing, if you will do me the 
 fkvor to refer to your exceedingly fertile mem- 
 ory." 
 
 You withheld it, Madam," he cried, im- 
 periouely. 
 
 * I do not, Sir I" she responded, in a tone 
 wbioh resembled his own so closely, that it 
 Bounded like mockery. 
 
 44 Fur the last time, I ask you whither you 
 are fcoiog to-night, dressed thus V ' he exclaim- 
 ed, in a 1 >w, savage voice, but still with an as- 
 sumption of d'gnity, which was preserved only 
 by a great effort. " I sek you, Lady West- 
 cheater, plainly and categorically, and I can- 
 Lot, cor w>li 1, receive an evasive reply." 
 
 * Tnen, Lord Westchester," she returned, in 
 as grandiloquent a tone as his own, " in obe- 
 dience to ycur cciumands, I beg to inform 
 you that I asn about to proceed to Plntagenet 
 House, to meet the Lacy Henrietta Plantage- 
 net,Mr. Plaatagenet, and " 
 i Sbe paused abruptly. 
 
 " WiomV" was asked, quickly. 
 
 '* Really," she subjoined, with a slight shrug 
 of the shculderr, " 1 cannot say 1 have not 
 Been Lidy Henrietta's list." 
 
 ' I will accompany you," he said, laconic- 
 ally. 
 
 i " Impossible !" she said, hastily, and half 
 Cheeked herself. 
 
 " Why V" he inquired, quickly and sternly. 
 
 " You wi:l be eo late, 5 ' she returned, with 
 an altered txpreseion, and an affected poutirg 
 of the lip ; " you have to dress. Mamma will 
 expect me much earlier than I esn possibly 
 reach her if I wait for you. You can defer 
 your visit to another opportunity. Mamma 
 wiil be g)ad to see you some day next week." 
 
 Lord Weatehtster champed his teeth to- 
 gether, &nd approaching the bell, rang it with 
 gome violence. 
 
 A eervant quickly appeared. 
 
 The Marchioness watched with glittering 
 eyes from behind her fan the expression of the 
 Marqub's face while he addressed the servant ; 
 *nd elie listened to hear what he would say. 
 
 *'Ia Lacy Weetcliesier's carriage at the 
 door ?" he aeled, sharply. 
 
 '' It ia my Lord," returned the man. 
 
 " Detain it there. I shall accompany her 
 lad* ship. Send my valet to my room." 
 
 Tho rnaa bowed und disappeared. 
 
 The Marchioness laughed. 
 
 " Wiiila your lordship ia dressing?, I will re- 
 turn to my chamber," ehe said, with bitter 
 eareaem, "and dispatch Fane for the silken 
 oord which ia henceforward and for ever to at- 
 taeh ua together ; but I tbink we must change 
 the co 1 or. It should be yellow how say you, 
 Wfcsto tester?" 
 
 Ha uiovtd toward the door through which 
 t'^e r frvant had passed, and removing the key, 
 iifcld it up. 
 
 " This i3 my answer to your ladyship," he 
 eeid ; acd closing the door behind him, helock- 
 ed is en the outtide. 
 For a moment she appeared to be over- 
 
 whelmed with amazement. The conduct oi 
 the Marquis was so wholly unlike anything 
 that she had seen of him, or could have ex- 
 pected of him, that she stood quite bewildered. 
 
 At length, taking a deep breath, she set her 
 teeth together, as she paced the room. 
 
 "Tyranny, insult, and vulgarity combined," 
 she muttered. " The struggle has indeed com- 
 menced now. We shall see which will go to 
 the w^ll. I will sunder the tie which I fasten- 
 ed myself, at every hazard ; and for the episode 
 of to-night I will punish him to-night. Jealous 
 fool ! Fool, because he has betrayed his in- 
 firmity to me, and I will woik upon it until I 
 diive him insane. The jealous man who has 
 pride reigning over every action of his life, 
 and breathing in every sentiment he uttew, is 
 worse than an idiot if fce permits her of whom 
 he is jealous to perceive his distrust of her." 
 
 She seated herself, and plyed nervously 
 with her fan, and for some short lime reflected 
 seriously and abstractedly. Then she rose up 
 and paced the room again. 
 
 " He is in the way," she exclaimed ; " but 
 for him the result of mutual explanations 
 might be a re-union with Bertram, without a 
 return of that apathetic listlessness which 
 parted us. But he is cured of that now ; ho 
 has learned to estimate the value of the prize 
 he has lost, and he will, when it ia restored to 
 him, be careful not to loe it again, and for- 
 ever. Yes, the struggle has commenced. I 
 have pcisored Westchester's Meicy! Why 
 can I not lid myself of that dreadful thought ? 
 Why did that woman-fiend place in my hands 
 a power so terrible, a temptation so fearful ? 
 Poison, it has a ghastly sound a mere pinch 
 of the dust, and I should.be free. No, no, no ! 
 it must not be. I will forget that I have ever 
 received the deadiy substance from her, or re- 
 member it cn 7 y when life has grown insup- 
 portable to me. No ; my plan, which I hi.ve 
 already commenced, is the best. He can feel ; 
 that I see, and I will torture him to madnees r 
 until I mske him fly from me, as though I 
 were a venomous serpent." 
 
 Evea while the last thought was passing 
 through her mind, she perceived the Marquis 
 standing at the now open door, and heard him 
 eay: 
 
 "Your carriage awaits you, Lady West- 
 cheater." 
 
 "And the silken cord!" sho exclaimed, 
 forcing an icy liugh. 
 
 " Permit me to be your escort, Lady West- 
 cheater," te responded, as though he did nofc 
 hear her, in his mo?t frigid tone. 
 
 She bowed, and they made their way to the 
 carriage, entered it, and were driven rapidly 
 to Piantsgenet House. 
 
 As they were about to alight, the Marchion 
 ess observed : 
 
 ' ; I am quite distressed to thick I should 
 have bet n the occasion cf drawirg ycu frcm 
 your study. I know that you are eo fond of 
 your books, and you must be aware tbar I c 13 
 manage to pass my time without you quite 
 agreeably. I fear that yen have spoiled your 
 
OR, THE FATE OP THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 157 
 
 own pleasure this evening, and," she added, 
 d o ping her voioo slightly, "iny enjoyment, 
 too." 
 
 " Possibly, I have interfered with your ar- 
 ranp^ ouents," be remarked, sarcastically. 
 
 " N>it exactly that, Lord Westchester," she 
 replied. " I intended to infer that I shall not 
 eirjoy myself unless I perceive that jou move 
 ab.ir. and are qune gay. You know that your 
 society i^ eageily Bought for by several dowa- 
 ger, wuo were rather anxious to catch you in 
 jour youth, and who are disposed to regard 
 you with favor now, although you were once 
 proof t > their blandishments." 
 
 He dared not trust himself to reply to her 
 *- nioi^ remarks, although he felt them bitter- 
 ly. He employed binaself in revolving in his 
 mind thnse circumstances with which he was 
 acquuin'fcd, and which were damaging to her ; 
 ana be resolved again to prosecute an ioquiry 
 into them, end, when he had completed it, to 
 bring her to an unequivocal understanding 
 *ith h>m. He quits believed by the time he 
 had done this, he should have encountered the 
 E irl of Braekieigh and have elain him in mor- 
 tal combat. 
 
 S range infatuation I He believed that the 
 death ot that man would induce the Marahion 
 ess to bestow upon him that affection which 
 she should have regarded him with when they 
 were married, and which he knew only too 
 well had nev< r been his. 
 
 That night was a terrible one for both. 
 
 Tie assembly of Lady Henrietta Piantage- 
 jaet was very fully attended, and the Marchion 
 es?, as usual, was one of the most beautiful and 
 best dressed women in the room. As usual, 
 too, she commanded the admiration of the op- 
 posite sex, and tho envy of her own. 
 
 But not, as usual, was she cold, haughty, 
 and reserved. Sae displayed, on the contrary, 
 the greatest vivacity; abe listened to flittering 
 rema.ika, and received flattering attentions in 
 such a manner as to render the Marquis all 
 but delirious. 
 
 Ue followed her about as closely as her 
 ; he gazed at her vindictively when he 
 on~idtred that she bad become too demon- 
 strative. and he scowled malij* nsn> ly at the 
 La^y Henrietta Piantagenet, who delighted 
 to tee her daughter ciyplay BO much Epright- 
 linee* brought to her every young man of 
 fashion who was more noted for his rank, 
 i. anl good looks, than for his scrupulous 
 
 Tbe Marchioness danced much : sh did not 
 zniee w 1 z ; bat he paced round the dancers 
 slowly, ef er the fashion if it were not too 
 ludicrous to describe his action of that noble- 
 man who walks round a horse circus, in at- 
 tendance upon the young lady of high rank 
 who performs equestrian wonaera on the bare 
 back cf a fl * ing steed. 
 
 Pile, us though heated to a white heat, he 
 pacJ the outer ring, keeping his fiery eyes 
 f*bter;fed upon tn Marchioness during the 
 whole of her evc-luti jne, and was at her side 
 the iubtuiiti tLe dance ceased. 
 
 The change in the behavior of the Marchion- 
 ess created quits a sefisaiion: every one pres- 
 ent was delighted except, the Marquis, who 
 was Buffering the wildest agonies of a silent 
 frenzy. 
 
 Occasionally, in spite of Ms jealous watchful- 
 ness, the Marchioness would escape from him ; 
 and he would, after a sharp, smart search, find 
 her absolutely laughing and fluting, like a 
 young girl, with some earnest eyed, handsome' 
 fellow, 'who, from that moment, he consigned' 
 to the realms of bis ete^ML^. | 
 
 A young duke, who ^1 ^but of a long* 
 minority, and who was v n of an enor- ; 
 
 myus rent-roll, and a rqB ffwhich should 
 have closed the door nKvlry respectable! 
 family against bim. was attracted by the sin- 1 
 gular beauty and vivacity of tbe Mirchionees,' 
 and paid her much court. His attentions to her; 
 the Marquis locked upon as a deliberate insult' 
 to his honor, and the Marchioness received! 
 them without that look ot icy frii-umy which 
 had always previously repelled irom her BO 
 m><r.y men of his stamp and class. 
 
 Tae Marquis, though writhing with torture, 
 was unable to offer a remark reepeetirg him 
 to the Marchiotees ; because, while there was 
 muih in his looks and canter to which he 
 could take exception, there was nothing so 
 palpable as would warrant hia playing tbe 
 part of the jealous husband before such au as- 
 semblage as were thee present. 
 
 Twice or thrice be suggested to the Mar- 
 chioness that he should conduct her to her car- 
 riage ; bat she declined, wi.h a frown and a 
 gesture which suggested that be was trouble- 
 some, and was not~entitkd to one iota of her 
 coceideration. 
 
 He regr.d inwardly at her treatment of him, 
 and be cefeermiced to retaliate in BOOD wy, if 
 possible. A design which be had Already in 
 his mind, and which his own piec'pitate jeal- 
 ousy had deferred, he resolved should be car- 
 ried out the very nest day, if it were possible. 
 While in this desperate frame of mind, stand- 
 ing somewhat apurt from the Marc uonees, for 
 the would neither speak to ccr tf ke no ice ofl 
 him while he stood oy her eide, Lord Nibilalu 
 bum, who was speaking to him, and to whom; 
 be was unable to pay the slightest attention,; 
 even though he was congratulating bim warm- J 
 ly upen the " thpwighthneth cf tb Ma*tbion- i 
 feth," suddenly fired a hundred pound cannon-'; 
 shot in his ear in the way of a question. 
 
 " Da >ou know BwaekleighV" he at-kt-d. 
 
 '* Ye ye yes no n n no !" in turned 
 the Murquis, excitedly. ' Js Le bre?" i 
 
 " He wath a few uiomentht back," returned 
 Lord JNihilalbum. > 
 
 " Where where ?" Interrogated the Mar- ' 
 quis, eagerly. 
 
 44 In one of the ante-chambetht," returned 
 Lord Niuilalbum. " Would jou ake to know 
 him? I will intwoduth you " 
 
 44 1 wish much to meet with bim, pray tate 
 me where we shall ee& him!" be answered, 
 with a kind cf feverish impatience. 
 
 "With playthaw," drawled his Lordship; 
 
153 
 
 HAGAR LOT : 
 
 Brackleigh will be only too delighted to 
 make youaw ucquaintantb, I am thaw. Thith 
 wayt" 
 
 lie led the way from the splendid ealoon, in 
 which the dancing was being carried on, in 
 newspaper parlance, "with much spirit", the 
 Marquis following with knitted brows, Bet 
 teetb, acd clenched hands. 
 
 Tney searched all the ante-chambers ; but 
 in vain Lord Nibilalbum was unable to tin- 
 kennel the Earl cfj^rackleigh. and they re- 
 
 turned disap 
 declaring th 
 and his iordfe 
 Oa reach! 
 noyed thai he 
 
 ^the Ealoon, the Marquis 
 "iip must be mistaken, 
 
 ig that he was not. 
 loon, the Marquis, an- 
 lave been drawn away 
 
 for a moment from observing the conduct of 
 the Marchioness, looked eagerly for her ; but, 
 to his dismay, he did not. on glancing round 
 the room, perceive her. He looked more care- 
 fully amocg the promenadeis, but she was 
 nowhere visible. 
 
 He qnit ed the side of Lord Nihilalbum, 
 and commenced a distracted search for her ; 
 but it was quite clear that she was no longer 
 in the saloon. 
 
 He hurried 88 swiftly aa he durst through 
 the ante- chambers, but with no better success. 
 Sick at hearfr, frenzied in mind, and cold as 
 ice, he makes liis way back to the saloon, and 
 there almost ran over Lady Henrietta Plan- 
 tagenet. 
 
 He inquired shortly and sharply of her of 
 the Marchioness, and she replied, th&t the 
 fancied that she had eeen her enter one of the 
 floral recesses with the young Duke of St. 
 Aubyn, whose attention s to her during the 
 evening* ehe declared, had been of the most 
 gratifying description. 
 
 With a curae upon his lips, the Marquis 
 made a dah at the floral recesses ; but he was 
 unable to find the duke or the Marchioness or 
 any one of them. 
 
 With an effort, which cost him an excess of 
 agony, he made some inquiries, in blank 
 terms, for the Marchioness of some of those 
 busy-bocies and know-alls, who manage to ex- 
 tort admission to euch receptions and assem- 
 blies by some backstairs influence, and who 
 reward the grace accorded to them by taking 
 note of everything that passes, and repeating 
 it when it will be likely to be of pecuniary 
 service to them. 
 
 One of these, a painted harridan, told him, 
 with a smile, that she had eeen the Marchion- 
 ess a few minutes previously leaning upon the 
 arm of tbe yourg Duke of St. Aubjn, and 
 proceeding, eke presumed, to her carriage; 
 she was certainly leaving the house. 
 
 With a gasp, he made a rush toward the 
 hall, and io quired of one of the footmen 
 whe'lur h78 ctrri&ge was within call. He was 
 told that tbe Mircaioness had just gone away 
 in i*. "Aloserbeaeked. 
 
 The footman could not inform him. 
 
 "With an aspect Jike a ghost, bo hurried 
 from the house, engaged a street-cab, an$ 
 drove direct home by the nearest route. 
 
 On reaching his maceioB, it had, aa he gazed 
 wiVfully and with a beating heart afc it, a 
 silent and deserted look. Neither hie carriage 
 nor any other was near. With a picking 
 heart and a whirling brain he entered bis 
 house and inquired whether the Marchioness 
 had returned. 
 
 He was informed that she had been home 
 nearly a quarter of an hour, and tbat his car- 
 riage had returned for him to Plantagenet 
 House. 
 
 Al hough there was some relief in tbe intel- 
 ligence, he retired with harrowed feelings to 
 his room, and paaeed a dreadful night. E*rly 
 in the morning, he sent a message to the Mar- 
 chioness, requesting that she would receive 
 him to breakfast with her She plraded fa- 
 tigue, and promised to attend him in his study 
 at iwfclve o'clock. 
 
 He awaited her coming with intense itn pa- 
 tience, for he feared that she would not keep 
 her word ; but at the hour appointed she 
 stood before him. 
 
 She was pale and chenged in her manner ; 
 ehe was cold, reserved, gloomy, and haughtier 
 than ever. 
 
 She awaited his attack. 
 
 The fi 6t question he addressed to her was to 
 request her to inform him why ebe returned 
 home without him. Her answer, cslm^y and 
 readiJy given, was, that she Jeh fatigued, and 
 wished to return home ; but; aa his lordship 
 was not in tbe salocn, and as b3 bad not con- 
 descended to inform her whither he was going, 
 or whether he would return, she accepted the 
 nearest escort at hand, and proceeded to her 
 carriage. 
 
 "Who was that escort?" he inquired. 
 
 Sie replied, with a smile that froze hinv 
 that ehe could not remember, asd added that, 
 aa i5 was not her intention to make any farther 
 reference to the proceedings at Piantagenet 
 House, she requetted to kaow what w*s the 
 subject of importance he was desirous cf com- 
 municating to her, and for wiieh purpose he 
 bad sought her in the garden upon the evening 
 previously. 
 
 He mused for a moment, and then fixing hia 
 eyes steadfastly upon her, he esid that he 
 wished to visit Beachborough Abbey, to ex- 
 amine its condition, ard receive a report 
 respecting some necessary alterations which 
 were required ; he asked her if she bad any 
 hesitation to accompany fcim. 
 
 She returned hia look by one aa steadfast, 
 and enswered : 
 
 "tfo." 
 
 "When will your ladysMp be prepared to 
 attend me?" he asked. 
 
 Within an hour, if you wish it," ehe replied, 
 but promptly. 
 
 was tinmd ere truck. He, to^ever, made 
 her no reply beyond telling her tba*, at the 
 expiration of the hour, he should be awaiting 
 her. 
 
 In two hours from that time, they were oj 
 their way to Beachborough. 
 
 On the day following their arrival, the Matt 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 159 
 
 qma sought the Mirchioness in her chamber 
 and he locked the door behind him ; and beg- 
 ging Hr to }>ay close attention to all he sa ; d, 
 he related to her the history of Fanny Shelley 
 as it hud been repealed to him by the landlord 
 of the True Lover's Knot, and tbe etory of the 
 child aa rela ed to him by Dr. Bird. He in- 
 formed br farther, that he had in bis possees- 
 iou a miniature of the Earl of Brackleigh when 
 Viscount Bertram, and tbat ne knew it fead 
 belonged to her. Bat, strangely enorgh, he 
 forgot to mention the envelope of wbite satin 
 and tbe lock of hair. Hta mind, indeed, ^was 
 too much engrossed by the idea of an intrigue 
 being \e% carried on between the Earl of 
 BrackMgh and the Marchioness. He said 
 very much that bore upon hia own suspicions, 
 and be cilltd upon her, now that she was 
 beneath that roof, to either confess her guilty 
 depravity, or disprove the terrible imputation 
 cast upon her. 
 
 She heard him coldly and calmly to the end ; 
 and tfaeii she lacoiioal/y replied, that ehe had 
 listened to him with the contempt th*t she 
 entertained for the meanness which, had urged 
 him to s*tk for falsehoods amorg tattling 
 beersellers and drugmongers ; that she consid- 
 ered is r-eneath her digtity to return him any 
 reply further than ehe wis now doicg, and 
 that, under any and all ciicumatacces, she 
 defied him. 
 
 He, white with vindictive rage, held up a 
 key to her. 
 
 " You and your maid are prisoners in this 
 abbey," he eaid fiercely, " uniil I clear up thia 
 mystery. You shall eitber remain my Msr- 
 chioncts, spot'ess, and of untariiiahed reputa- 
 tion, or I w.ll diacard you from me with 
 loathing and disgust. 
 
 He quitted the room hastily, and locked the 
 door. 
 
 For rearly three weeks, Constance was kept 
 with her Braid, Fane, a close prisoner ; and 
 though outwardly she appealed Colm, ehe was 
 almost frenzied in her mind, because she be- 
 lieved that tbe Mrquis would fearch her 
 private cabinet in her caambe* in London, and 
 that there be would find the original certificate 
 of her murisge with Bertram. 
 
 Every tffjrt at escape appeared hopelesa ; for 
 the Marquis had tiken his precautions so well, 
 thas only hia paid people were in cnetody of 
 the chambers which contained the MarcDioB- 
 esa, and they thought they were keeping 
 guard over a lunatic. 
 
 Yet Fane's pretty face, and just one kiss cf 
 her eofc cheek, enabled her one morning to get 
 a letter for warded to Nat ;and en the following 
 night, Nat made a burglarious entrance iato 
 the abbey by means of skeleton keys. By his 
 aid, tbe Marchioness acd Fdine escaped from 
 their impiiioamert; the Eirl of Brackleigh 
 being ready to receive the Marchioness under 
 the gloomy shadow of ihe abbfy wal/'g". 
 
 On receiving the M ircMone-a in his arms, 
 Bertram urged her ardently to fly *ith hitn ; 
 but ehe eaid ehe would give him no answer 
 until ene bad firtt visited Westchester House . 
 
 she, however, intimated that, if able to ecoure 
 seme important papers which were excreted in 
 a place known only to herself, she would 
 probably join her fa e to his, and with him 
 turn her back on England forever. 
 
 They reached London in safety, and there 
 parted. The Marchioness proceeded to West- 
 chester Houee, which she entered with Fane, 
 receiving the same attention as uaual from the 
 servants. 
 
 She hastened to her suite of apartments, and 
 
 contained 
 dit'ock- 
 
 ^ to do. 
 or ehe feared 
 
 at once and alone to the 
 her cabinet. She, tohrj 
 ed and the key removed,! 
 
 In her despair, she 
 She was obliged to remain* 
 that, by ordering the door to be forced, she 
 should cause a talk and commotion in the 
 horee. 
 
 The pf c*et services of Nat were ajjfein <s*P.ecl 
 in requisition, after some cor si iteration by her, 
 through Fane, who introduced him into the 
 house surreptiiiously ; and be, after exaiticicg 
 the 1 ;ck, promised in three day a to open the 
 door, and with a key, too. 
 
 Hagar Lot, who in the interim viewed the 
 Mircbioness, became acquainted with, IMs 
 ficb by the admission of toe latter, who be- 
 lieved that Hagar, who seemed to have the 
 power of entering the house whenever ehe 
 pleased, could enter any room at will. This, 
 however, proved a feat which Hegar could not 
 perform ; but it was the means of her carrjiug 
 out a purpose. 
 
 Nat kept his word : he arrived on the 'bird 
 night wLb, a peculiarly-made ekeleton-key ; 
 wi'ch which be unlocked the door. 
 
 Tbe Mirchionefs, on fir.ck-g that ehe could 
 obtain admission to the room, dismissed Fan*? 
 acd Nat, and commenced and continued a 
 long search for her marria^e-cer iftcate 
 While thus engaged, she fancied the heard the 
 fall of a eeft footstep behind her. 
 
 She turned hastily, and beheld, standing not 
 far from the dcor, a young, tall, pale, beaufiful 
 girl, whose features she instantly rtcogized as 
 tie counterpart of her own. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 " Soft as descendiag wings fell the calm cf the hour on 
 
 her spirit ; 
 Something wiih-n her said: 'At length thy trials 
 
 are ( nded' ; 
 
 And with light in her looks, she entered (he ch am- 
 ber." LONGPEIWHT. 
 
 When F'oret was pushed rather than usher- 
 ed into the room wnere tbe Marchioness was 
 standing, the litter had been engaged for 
 more than two hours in searching for what she 
 could cot find. 
 
 , At fir*t she made a hurried investigation of 
 |he contents of her cabinet without *uceas. 
 She made a second, a third, each beirg per- 
 formed nita a kind of wild rapidity, but 
 vui ly. 
 
 Fully conpcioua of tie importance of PCCTJT- 
 icg the articles for which she was looking BO 
 anxiously, she made a call upon her courage, 
 
 
100 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 her firmness, and the determination which 
 ebe naturally possessed, but waioh a ioog- 
 con inuei uien'ftl struggle had greatly weak- 
 ened, auJ reoooameacBd ber search coolly and 
 cwefdll y. N >t a piece of folded paper passed 
 her unopened, or if it contained wri ing, un- 
 read ; nosadrairer or secret place in the Cibi- 
 ne; was permitted to escape her unexarnined, 
 end when, wicii a einkiug heart and drooping 
 epirit, she became convinced that the objects 
 of her search were no longer ia the place* in 
 i which she w^^|re that she had deposited 
 , them, she pll ^&* * P ea an< ^ examine 
 other drawafl Bfc k?> 6n<1 F P IC = ? ' proba- 
 ble and iiLp^B MsW to arrive u 1 , the com 
 plete and terWil^maijty thit what s*ie was 
 hunting far had all bsen abstracted . the min- 
 iature, the little look of hair, and the stolen 
 marriage- register. 
 
 | It was as the moment that this horrifying 
 v conviction w*3 forcing itself upon her niiad 
 th it she heard a footstep behind her, and sim- 
 ultaneously felt a presentiment that it W43 tbe 
 M irqais ; but, turning, beheld instead a young 
 girl, call, fair, delicate, and cuiiouely like her- 
 
 el r . 
 
 ; Yet she was a stranger ; and to see a stranger 
 ' in such a plce, and at euch. a moment, was a 
 I marvel, which, for an instant, bewildered ber. 
 
 Sie drew herself up with qaesn-like majesty, 
 ! and a waited an explanation of tais extraordi- 
 J aary intrusion. 
 
 Whih she dil e<\ her eyei were fastened 
 | upon the young girl s facs, aud her mind ran 
 j about wish ber in a curious, chaotic, con 
 j fused way. Tiie features were strange, and 
 
 yet familiar they were unknown to her, .and 
 ' yet she fancied that she b/id seen them every 
 
 \&&7. 
 
 Mixed up with the perusal of her features, 
 J were woodlmd scen?s, and sequestered places- 
 | flirting faces, the dark vhage 01 II 4gar Lot ttie 
 1 ghastly cou arenas ce preity, paliiJ, onj care, 
 : wsrn of F<mny Shelley, whose spectsral, in- 
 ! ploring eyes were seldom absent from her 
 vUiaa; there were sounds and ucisea cf crits 
 \ and shouts in her ears, of a btll elowly boom 
 ing, and of the ru jhicg of an exciced and eagtr 
 multitude: eights and sounds wmch rose un- 
 ! bidden, as though they were EO miny phantom 
 ^fluojgestions offering themselves, BO that she 
 ; migat, by their aid, be able to discover who it, 
 I -wag who stood before her. 
 
 Not less cljee, eager, and anxioua, was the 
 -toe-uiul of the face of the Marcnioness by 
 jfjunt. 
 
 j Her heart seemed to have momentarily 
 ; etayed its beating, and an equally wilJ throng 
 !of soundaand sigats rus'aej through her bruin 
 land mental vision, as she gazed on the beauti 
 jul and haughty countenance before her. 
 
 To her eyea the face of the Mirchionecs wae 
 familiar as her own familiar, because she had 
 often dreamed of euch a f^ce even in her caild- 
 hood ; and % sicce she had seen one closely re 
 eembiingit on the Cup-day at Ascot Ktces. 
 every incident of which was strongly imprimeo 
 on her memory. Ii waa t'ae f.'ioe of the proud 
 
 lady who bad tossed her a sovereign, and whose 
 icorntul uvtttiuy .t of ner had cost her BO many 
 
 And this waa the woman whom she was to 
 claim as a parent. A creature behind whose 
 mask of beauty, purity, and high sUtion, she 
 knew not hor much of sin, of shame, and crime, 
 was concealed. 
 
 Bat beneatk the high white brow, she saw 
 that the beautiful eyes were sunken and un- 
 naturally bright; the cheek was l jiu. and 
 round the mouth were lines traced only by toe 
 moat bitter mentil suffering. 
 
 This refltction appealed to her warmest and 
 tendered eymptrfh?, for she had herself feuffer- 
 ed so deeply. And she felt that her firmness, 
 ber resolution to be Cilm, cold, and d unified, 
 were giving way rapidly. Instinctive jy, eke 
 removed her t>onnet, so that ber fair, long, 
 cu ling tresses full unrestrained upon hei 
 shoulders. 
 
 Yet more amazad at this movemest, the 
 M trchionei'S, waose heart was betiut< wildly, 
 a ad whose perturbed feedags at thu unlooked- 
 for apparition were incomprehensible, snid in 
 a low, bew;ide r ed tone . 
 
 *' Whit ia the meaning of this strange in- 
 trusion? Who ere you ?' r 
 
 Fiorct fed upon ber knees at her feet, and 
 clutching at her dress, tu-rned herficeuptc 
 her, and wiih s'reaining eyes tj icul^ted, in 
 low, soft, quivering voice, which no descriptioB 
 coul I reaiizo : 
 
 "Mji-her!"' 
 
 With a wild, frantic screech, the Marchion- 
 ess tore her dread ircm the bands of Fiorer, and 
 stay gerel to a settee, and sink upon it hali 
 
 Upon her kn* es, Floret followed ber, saying, 
 still ii piteous, beseeching tones : 
 
 ' Mj-ufr, I am your caiid. Mother, do no! 
 disowrn me, do not discard me. la mercy, in 
 pity, do not deny me. In the name of Him 
 who made you and all the wot^d, be mvrsifaJ 
 *o me, as you hope hereafter for mercy from 
 Him!" 
 
 Tae Mirchionesaa pressed ber bands on her 
 temple, before her eyes, over her tars; she 
 rose up and flung Floret from her, and rushed 
 to a bell ; but agtin Floret clung to her, cry- 
 ing: 
 
 'Spurn me not, lam your child! One 
 word, Eoo*oer! one word to me!" 
 
 T-ie MirchioDesa turned to her, with a face 
 ghtatly, paiiie- stricken, maddened ia its ex- 
 pression. With glaring ejea she thrust a!; her, 
 and cried, ia hoarse, almost iaartioul ve tones : 
 
 "Begone! quit my eight! have me! This 
 1*3 some infamous plot hatched against me. 
 Begone ! brat, wretch, or I will curse you ! 
 Begone, beggar !" 
 
 Wish a cry of anguish, of acu?e misery, 
 Floret rose up. 
 
 She, too, pressed her hands upon her tem- 
 ples, before her eyes, twisted ber wrists about 
 ber neck, and writhed in a paroxysm of mortal 
 agony. 
 
 Then she flung ber bands down and clenched 
 
OB, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 161 
 
 them, and she drew her figure up to her full 
 height. 
 
 * Woman!" she cried, with a quivering, 
 eoorofal, bitter expression, which maJe the 
 Marchioness, whose hand was again upon the 
 bell, etirt and pause, " woman ! you shall 
 hear me! I came here to implore justice : I , 
 remain here now to demand it I" 
 
 The lips of the Mircmoness moved, and she . 
 muttered something inaudible. 
 
 "lock upon me," continued Floret, speak- ' 
 ing wkh a firmness, clearness, and energy which | 
 contrasted remarkably with her previous sofc- 
 nB8 and tenderness ; " examine my features, 
 scrutinize them well, and when you have done 
 BO, tell me ifyou know them." 
 
 Again the Marchioness would have spoken, 
 and nave made aa impi'ienfc gesture for her to 
 quit the apartment, but lipa and tongue both 
 seemed paralyzed. 
 
 "Tell me," continued Floret, sternly, "if 
 yeu recognize ia them the features of your de- 
 pendent, murdered foster-sister, Fanny Shel- 
 ley ? Do they resemble them? Speak with- 
 out equivocation am I like Fanny Bhelty so 
 much as to be her child ? M*rk me, woman !" 
 ehe cried, pointing solemnly upward; "Al- 
 mighty God is looking down upon us ! In Hi* 
 presence I call upon you to answer me truly 
 am 1 Fanny Shelley's child?" 
 
 The Marchioness cowered and bowed hr 
 head. Sae could nob, in the face of God, tell 
 a lie so tremendous. 
 
 " You are silent you shrink you know 
 that it is fake! 1 ' pursued Floret, speaking 
 with a7i intense energy. ' And to whom did 
 you willful ly and deliberately repeat that false- 
 hood? my father, and your husband, the 
 Earl of Braokleigh !" 
 
 The Marchioness gazed at her aghast, but 
 by a mighty effort she endeavored to recall 
 her pelf-commayd, and gasping for breath, she 
 murmured, hurek'ly : 
 
 * How dare you utter the wild, incoherent 
 assertions to me? Begone! I know you 
 net?" 
 
 "I dare do this, and more; for you disown 
 me I, wSo have been so lang and so hope- 
 lessly the victim of your cruelty and I will 
 not go!" resumed Floret, excitedly. " Listen 
 to me ; know me far taat child whom you saw 
 at Beachbcrongh, a poor, pauper gi'l; know 
 me for than child whom you saw playir?g the 
 part of a miserable beggar upon a raee course, 
 when yon were seated in a carriage surround- 
 ed by toe title i and the noble, the worshiped 
 and bon>red above those tj wnooi such horn 
 ogeia pud ; k 10 * me for thai s-ioie child who 
 ;iw3 ^eQ icired by your ^ircc-.ions undtr the 
 tender uu^pic^s of II igar Lot, the weird gip 
 6y, who n ubiag jouetecrets to work her own 
 n<k who Lias yau ia her power and will 
 unless I, the e^pne^, disowned outcast, step 
 in t > save y ou destroy you ; know me ibr that 
 person who, xvh'le eheicered for a time with 
 tenderi. ess wild compassion by tbe Countessof 
 UncVeigh, WJB informed by the E*rl, wkh 
 and cruelty, xmuer your inspira- 
 
 tion, that your foster-sister was deceived and, 
 betrayed by a man of high birth thai a child 
 wu* born and that I was that child! Do 
 you know me cow ?" 
 
 S .e Btood with her form erect, and with hr ' 
 head elevated, as. with a proud dignity, she ! 
 uttered the last interrogatory. 
 
 Tne Marohionees, from the first, had been ^ 
 completely overwhelmed by what she heard 
 from Floret's lips. It was not alone that she 
 was thunders ricken by heivmost unexpected 
 appearance, but a thousajri feaja and horrible 
 anticipations rushed tbror^bbeu mind. If the 
 Countess of Brackki^h-bnew' all, the world 
 would know all. The Marquis would hear her 
 story perhaps had heard it and, for aught 
 she knew, was without now, awaiting the re- ' 
 suit of tills girl'd interview with her. Withal, 
 there was a wild tugging at her heart to catch 
 this intruder to her breatt, acknowledge her, 
 reveal all to her, but implore her to keep her 
 secret. 
 
 Yet. how was it to fee kept The world 
 would know of her existence through the 
 Countess of Brackleigh ; and, if she were 
 we*ik enough to deny her own legitimacy, the 
 world would insist upon it for her ; inquiries 
 would be made, and the felon's dock would 
 yawn to receive her ! 
 
 What wis she to do but brave it out as long 
 as she could, and escape from England before 
 the storm burst ! She remained for some time 
 silent afcer Floret had paused, revolving all 
 these thoughts in her distracted brain. She 
 ea*, however, now that her first be wilder mest 
 and confusion had in some small degree sub- 
 sided, that it would be madness to summon 
 her servants and create a scene, which would 
 only acd to the mischief already brewing, and 
 perhaps precipitate an unfavorable denoue- 
 ment. 
 
 Sbe, therefore, with an another powerful ef- 
 fort to subduo her perturbation, aed appear 
 cold and immovable, turned slowly to Floret, 
 but she <?id not fix her eyes upon her face. j 
 " I know you only for the person you de- 
 clare \ oareif to be, excepting that adaucious 
 declaration of being allied to me," she ex- 
 claimed, addressing her in low, measured, 
 feigi 1 tones ; *' but even that does not give 
 ^ou the iri^ht to obtrude yourself upon me. : 
 I can hardly imagine that you have taken this 
 step unaided, nor can I suppose that the de- 
 sign of entering this place surreptitiously, 
 and urging the most monstrous claim ever 
 conceived upon me, originated with you. I 
 micht summon my servants and have you ex- 
 pelled, and even consigned to the custody of 
 the poiic<>, but I have compassion on your ' 
 youth and your eer ; and I believe that you are 
 the child of Shelley, who was to me, I am al- ' 
 ways ready to acknowle-^*, a faithful and de- 
 vo ed attendant. I therefore spare you the 
 ignominy of forcible expulsion ; and 2 may 
 feel disposed, perhaps, when you have eome 
 proper notion of the wildness of your present 
 conduct, to promote your interests in some 
 way, BO that you may live ia a decent and 
 
162 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 respectable manner, and not descend to such 
 artifices as these, in the hope to wring from 
 me some paltry hush-money." 
 
 A groan, rather than a sob, escaped from 
 Floret's lips. __ 
 
 "Reflect," added the Marchioness, fancying 
 for the moment that he had made an impres- 
 sion upon her mind favorable to her views, 
 " and you will see the advantage of communi- 
 cating to me the names of the persons who 
 instigated you to taJu the mad and wicked 
 etep of to-night" 
 
 j " If yonr heart were not of adamant yon 
 would never have consigned me to the fate you 
 have," responded Floret, with deep emotion. 
 , " You would not see me stand thus before you 
 and address me in such heartless terms nay, 
 you would not have committed one single deed 
 of the many which now lay heavy upon your 
 soul. Poor, murdered Fanny Shelley was 
 your faithful, devoted attendent; you ac- 
 knowledge that, flhe sacrificed her life for 
 you vou must feel that, although you are 
 justly not responsible for her death ; and in 
 reward for her faithful devotion assuming 
 that I am her child how did yon act toward 
 me ? You suffered me to remain a dependent 
 for existence upon some poor villagers. You 
 caused me to be kidnapped by a gipsy, by 
 whom I was conveyed to a miserable, squalid 
 den, and doomed to pass my young life a shoe- 
 less, wandering beggar. Your imagination, 
 moving in high life as you have been, petted 
 and pampered, can form no conception of the 
 miseries I have been compelled to endure by 
 you ; and for what ? not that I WPS the child 
 of poor Shelley, but that I was your child, the 
 unacknowledged offspring of a secret marriage 
 between you and Viecount Bertram " 
 
 " I will not listen to these preposterous in- 
 ventions," interposed the Marchioness, furi- 
 ously. 
 
 " But you must, Madam ; and you must 
 listen to them from me," interrupted Floret, 
 in her turn. 
 
 She spoke with such firm determination, 
 that the Marchioness felt compelled to remain 
 silent. 
 
 " It is better that they should fall like blis- 
 tering hail upon your ears from my lips, than 
 they should be thundered into them from the 
 mouths of others. What I am about to say 
 to you, if you refuse to hear, I may reveal to 
 others. My honor and my position cannot 
 suffer ; yours must. I may live in future 
 humbly, but, at least, I shall live in honor. 
 Now, mark me, Madam ; I have not much 
 to eay to you, but the little shall be to the pur- 
 
 re, and if you decline to acknowledge me 
 whom I am when I have ended. I will take 
 my way and you will take yours. We shall meet 
 again at last, that I feel, but under less hap- 
 pier auspices than might have been the case 
 had you treated me with more womanly con- 
 sideration. You deny your marriage, Madam, 
 with the Viscount Bertram. Are you prepared 
 to deny that you went to Brighton some years 
 back alone ; that you proceeded alone to St. 
 
 Mary's Church, Hove ; that you inquired of 
 the clerk of that church for the book of the 
 register of marriages " 
 
 "My God!' involuntarily ejaculated the 
 Marc uioness. 
 
 4 That you inspected the book in the ab- 
 sence of the clerk," pursued Floret, with 
 marked emphasis ; " that you extracted a leaf 
 containing one of the entries ; and that you 
 then returned to Baby Hall?" 
 
 She paused ; the Marchioness looked at her 
 with a bewildered aspect. She only too well 
 remembered that she hadvieited Brighton, 
 but she remembered that she had gone there 
 alone, and had concealed from every person 
 breathing what she did upon that occasion. 
 How could this girl know anything of what 
 bad occurred? Yet she had described what 
 bad taken place accurately. She gazed stead- 
 fastly at her. 
 
 'This is mere assertion," she sail, hesi- 
 tatingly. 
 
 " I have that abstracted leaf In my possjw- 
 
 m," retorted Floret, emphatically. " It is 
 right that yon should know with ho"w much of 
 my history I am acquainted." 
 
 " So, then, this register had been stolen from 
 her escritoir and by whom ? 
 
 Her thoughts instantly reverted to Hagar 
 Lot : probably she had employed some gipsy 
 to watch her, and he might have followed her 
 to Brighton. This was her rapid impression, 
 and like those of her sex, being instinctive, it 
 was quite near enough to the truth. Then a 
 thought struck her, and she said, instantly, 
 with a forced species of triumphant smile : 
 
 " The scheme has been cleverly concocted ; 
 but you prove too much. Had I committed 
 the act with which you have charged me, that 
 leaf of the register would have been in my pos- 
 session, not yours." 
 
 " It was in your possession, Madam," re- 
 plied Floret, coldly ; " but it is now properly 
 in mine, for it wiU help to prove that I am " 
 
 " And assist to ruin me if you succeed in es- 
 tablishing yourself to be the offspring of that 
 marriage, "observed the Marchioness, in a half 
 soliloquy. Then she added, impatiently and 
 angrily, " I wonder that I have listened to you 
 so long I, however, command you now to re- 
 tire, or" 
 
 " You have done me injury enough," inter- 
 rupted Floret, quickly ; " you can hardly de- 
 sire to add to the long list." 
 
 She folded her hands across her bosom, and 
 added, slowly and sorrowfully : 
 
 " I will leave you, Madam, with much un- 
 said that I had intended to say ; it is, perhaps, 
 as well as it is. The voice of Nature has whis- 
 pered to me even while we have been speaking. 
 I could have forgiven all that has passed, all 
 that I have barne have met all that I may 
 have to bear with fortitude and resignation. 
 I would have preserved your secret even to 
 my own destruction, if you had but eaid one 
 kind word to me, bestowed upon me one ten- 
 der lookhad pressed your lip to mine only 
 once, and whispered in my ear ' thou art nij 
 
OR, THE FATE OP THE POOR GIRL. 1 
 
 child I* You have acknowledged not one urg- 
 ing of even common humanity ; and BO I take 
 my departure from you, resolved to devote my 
 energies to the taa which you denounce. I 
 yearned only when I entered here that you 
 should know me, that I might call you mother, 
 and you confess me if only to myself to be 
 your child ; but now the world shall know me 
 for whom I am, and " 
 
 At this moment, Fane, the Marchioness's 
 attendant, rushed into the room, and exclaim- 
 ed, hurriedly : 
 
 " My Lady ! my Lady ! the Marquis is ap- 
 proaching, my Lady !" 
 
 She was accompanied by Hagar Lot, who, 
 at the same moment, caught Floret by the 
 wrisfc. and said to her : 
 
 "You must accompany me!" 
 
 Floret threw off her hand haughtily; and 
 then, forgetting all she had just uttered, ran to 
 the Marchiones?. With a wild gesture she 
 flung herself at her feet : 
 
 "One word!" she said, in half-choked ac- 
 cents. " One word one little word !" 
 
 The Marchioness remained motionless, 
 though her lips moved quickly, and her bosom 
 heaved and fell with violent rapidity, betray- 
 ing how deep was her inward emotion. 
 
 "Do not drive me from you without a 
 word I" urged Floret, wildly. " One little word 
 will seal my lips forever ; though it forces me 
 to sacrifice everything that makes life EO love- 
 ly to the young !" 
 
 But the Marchioness stood immovable. 
 
 Fane uttered an ejaculation, and, in a low 
 voice, muttered : 
 
 " We are lost !" 
 
 Floret turned her face to the doorway, and 
 beheld standing in it the Marquis of West- 
 ch ester. 
 
 The room swam round with her, and ahe 
 saw no more. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 11 She look'd on many a face with vacant eye, 
 On many a token v. ithout knowing what ; 
 She saw them watch her, without knowing why, 
 
 And reck'd not who around her pillow sat ; 
 Not speechless, though she tpoke not ; n t a sigh 
 
 RelievM her thoughts ; dull silence and quick chat 
 Wefe tried in vain by whose who seryed she gave 
 No sign, sava breath, of having left the prrave." 
 
 BYSOX. 
 
 The situation, when the Marquis of West- 
 Chester made his appearance at the door of 
 the Marchioness's apartmedt, was one of pro- 
 found embarrassment to every one present 
 who had their senses about them. 
 
 The Marquis, who had entered the house by 
 a side and private entrance, was unconscious 
 of the arrival of the Marchioness and her maid 
 in London, and had been observed stealthily 
 approaching the former's apartments by Fane, 
 wko promptly rusbed to her mistress to ac- 
 quaint her with hia Doming. His intention 
 was to prosecute a similar search to that in 
 which the Marchioness had been engaged, and 
 he was not a little disconcerted on arriviDg at 
 the door of the apartment to find it open 
 
 readily to his touch, and to discover himself 
 almost at the same moment likely to be the 
 hero of a scene. 
 
 He was absolutely bewildered at seeing be- 
 fore him the Marchioness and Fane, both of 
 whom he believed to be in close custody at 
 Beachborongh ; but his surprised eyes were 
 attracted almost as immediately by the form 
 of a young girl in a swoon being snatched, as 
 it were, from the floor by a womam, whose 
 dark face and darker eyes and hair proclaim- 
 ed her to be one of a race whom he held in the 
 greatest abhorrence. 
 
 The Marchioness was confounded by his 
 presence, for before her, senseleps, was her un- 
 acknowledged daughter inquiries respecting 
 whom by the Marquis must, she knew, prove 
 fatal to her. Fane's embarrassment may be 
 easily conceived, while Hagar Loi was both 
 disconcerted by the presence of the Marquis, 
 who had never before eeen her in his mansion, 
 and disturbed by the marring of the object for 
 which she had brought Floret thither. Sug- 
 gestions of a deadly description, which she had 
 intended to have whispered in the ear of the 
 Marchioness, were rendered unavailable by 
 the unlooked-for appearance of the Marquis, 
 and she instinctively felt that it would be more 
 than awkward to have to offer an explanation 
 to him of her presence there, if he called upon 
 her to do so. 
 
 She was the first, however, to recover her 
 presence of mind. She stooped over Floret's 
 inanimate form, shrouded her face with a pait 
 of her cloak, and lifting her up with no com- 
 mon exertion of strength, she glided into an 
 inner apartment, and thence by a door into a 
 corridor. With the celerity of volition of the 
 serpent, and with as noiseless movement, she 
 descended with her still senseless burden into 
 the garden, leaving the Marchioness to give 
 the explanations he might require in any 
 shape she coul best at the moment devise. 
 She hurried with Floret, who was yet insensi- 
 ble, to the almost impenetrable darkness of 
 the shadow of a clump of trees. She laid her 
 carefully upon the cool grass, and returned 
 swiftly to lock the door by which she had 
 quitted the house, the key of which the Mar- 
 chioness had intrusted to her. 
 
 On her return, she was unable to find Floret. 
 She stretched her hands in all directions over 
 the grass, but could discover no trace of her ; 
 she called her by name, in a low, soft voice, 
 but received no answer. She searched care- 
 fully and cautiously in every direction, but 
 the neighboring church -bell tolled the hour 
 of midnight, and she had failed to meet with 
 the slightest clue which would guide her to an 
 opinion as to what had become of her. 
 
 So sudden had been Hagar's departure with 
 Floret that she had disappeared before the 
 Marquis had the presence of mind to stop her. 
 Hagar, however, had not been BO quick with 
 the disposition of her cloak over Floret's face 
 but that the Marquis had seen it, and that 
 with an emotion which almost paralysed him. 
 Before he csuld recover himself, Haxar had 
 
104 
 
 HA.GAR LOT ; 
 
 hidden it ancLquittrd tue~roorn. He made a 
 movement' aa though he would rush afcer her, 
 but the Marchioness placed herself before him. 
 
 " Stand out of my way, woman," he cried pas- 
 sionately, as he rai3ed his hand, " or'* 
 
 Her clear, bright blue eye fastened itself 
 upon hi?, as, beside himself with fury, he made 
 that imad gesture. It sparkled so brilliantly 
 that it dazzled him, it restored him at once to 
 a consciousness of the extraordinary impropri- 
 ety of w hie Si he was about to be guilty, and he 
 absolu'ely shuddered as a perception of the 
 debited position into which his suspicions of 
 the M irchioness and her treatment of him were 
 feurrymj* him. 
 
 S jo with a stern dignity of manner, turned 
 from him to Fane, and said to her : 
 
 ' Quit the room!" 
 
 Fane courteeied low and slunk out of the 
 apartmtat only tco glad to getaway. 
 
 At eoon as she was gone, the Marchioness ad- 
 drecaed tae Marquis, who was yet standing 
 with an irresolute manner before her, and eaid, 
 in a low, deliberate voice, and yet BO fail of 
 emo ion that every note quivered as she utter- 
 ed it: 
 
 " You wooed me like a sycophant. You took 
 me a< a virtuoso secures a rarity. You were 
 aot particular respecting the terms, so that 
 you made me yours that ie, yours in the eyes 
 of the world, and not in fict. You were con- 
 tent to phlm a lie on the credulity of society, 
 and assume a credit which never has been 
 years and tever will be yours were yen to be 
 crowded Emperor cf the Uuiveree and to live 
 for tn eternity. You have been mean enough 
 to I e cuutent with the phantom of a woman, 
 and LOW you Reek to tyrannize over the realifcy, 
 as if you had a legal claim to do so. You 
 have iaf ultfd me by making me a prisoner in 
 my own house; nr.ne, Mirquiaof Westcbebter 
 for Beackbcrough Abbey, settled solely up- 
 on ice, without leaving you a right, a title, or 
 ciiioa u>on it, was not a place in which you 
 oouid exercise even the poor authority of a 
 menial. You have degraded me before the 
 eyes of your base tools, upon the strength of a 
 vile suspicion. Lord Westchester, from the 
 firet jou have commenced the irreconcilable 
 strife which has now reached such formidable 
 proportions between us. You have taken the 
 luiiidtive, and you have dared to epeak to me, 
 to act to me, as though every degrading and 
 disgustiog impression oiiginated by he pruri- 
 ent sub leties of a depraved mind, which has 
 presented itself to you, had been and is true 
 You have not waitel to prove my guilfc, if 
 guilty am, or to aecertain beyond doubt my 
 ia&ocencb. You have assumed the first, and 
 have decided that the la ter must be impossi 
 bit-. Lord Westchester, it is hard to be 
 wrongly euspected ; it is harder B ill to be 
 trta (td as though suspicions were ficta ; it in 
 yet harder to endure the indignity cf such 
 suspicions, which LO insult can surprs?, if 
 equal, ia magnitude. I c moot endure it. I 
 tfili nor.. Toe torture ic iufi'C s upon me 
 ia inconceivable by y,n. Dot pain for pain! 
 
 I will retaliate with the weapons which you 
 have yourself placed in my hands. You shall 
 not suspect me in vain. When a woman be* 
 comes reckless of her own self-respect and re- 
 gardless of the honor of her husband, the 
 prDfligacy of a case-hardened libertine is pari- 
 ty beside her depravity. You have reproaeh- 
 ed me with iniquity. "I will be iniquitous. I 
 courted the possession of your coronet, and I 
 made many bitter sacrifices to obtain it ; einee 
 ifc has been placed upon my brow, slander dar- 
 ed not approach me with its venomous breath. 
 Some of your most cherished friends who have 
 sought to debase me, and to dishonor you, 
 have proclaimed the immaculatenees of your 
 honor through me, at the expense of acknowl- 
 edging their own looseness of morality. The 
 strongest partisans of prudery elevated me to 
 their standard of spotless purity. For what 
 have I won this distinction to^be outraged by 
 you with infamous suspicions and to the most 
 degrading treatment. I have worn your cir- 
 clet of peerage as a Diana ; it shall henceforth 
 deck my forehead as a Lais. I will drag it 
 through the elimy froth that bubbles on the 
 festering lips of corrupt talkers. I will trail ifc 
 through such path? of shameful lewdness that 
 the pure sbail shudder at its approach, and the 
 wanton blush as she shrinks abashed in ita 
 presence " 
 
 " Madwoman I" cried the Marquis, frantical- 
 ly, alter several attempts to stay the voluble 
 expression of hep terrible sentiments. 
 
 " Ay, I am mad," she cried, shrilly and 
 wildly, gradually increasing the vehemence of 
 her tone in her fearful excitement. "I am 
 mad, and you have made me so. I know that 
 you will try to arrest me in my progress tetho 
 destruction cf your name and of ay fame; 
 but you shall not I am your wife that is, 
 in the eyes of tne law, so long as it pleases me 
 that it shall be so and that ia a tie which you 
 cannot sunder with a puff of wind. Wiiat, ia 
 it come to ttiis? I, who sold my life, my 
 youth, my beauty to you far a ring of fire, 
 which has betn consuming my brain ever 
 Bince it pressed like a curse upon my temples ! 
 I I am I to be treated like a slave, taunted 
 with the commission of a filthy sin, to be 
 abused like a meciil, and incarcerated like a 
 felon ? I 1 ! a Plantagenet ! and by jwn, a 
 creature who 01 1 hate, I loathe, I abhor ! a 
 wretcied shadow, a mockery! tke meanest 
 epitouue of a man that ever offended my eyes ! 
 a braes crown hoveriag over an empty er- 
 mined robe; a ha! ha! a the chili of a 
 hair- dreaeer and a titled mother! a ha! ha! 
 ha! ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 Soe tossed her arms madly about as she 
 went into a fit of shrieking hysterics, sending 
 forth peal alter peal of piercing screams, un- 
 til the whole household, wor-dericg end af- 
 frighted, eottred her chamber and beheld her 
 ddt-niDg herself wildly about on the floor, 
 and the Marquis standing petrified and par*- 
 IjZ'd. 
 
 Tde united strsngth of eeveraj frmale do- 
 mesuoa could barely restrain the Msro&ioneefr 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 165 
 
 from inflicting upon herself serious injuries, 
 until she subsided into a ooiivuieira swoon, 
 awful to look upon. 
 
 She was borne instantly to her chamber by 
 her maids, and medical assistance was instant 
 ]y summoned. 
 
 The Marquis, at the same time, staggered, 
 faint and breathless, to his study, where, an 
 hour afterward, his valet discovered him 
 Btre'ched upon the carpet, with every sign 
 of death imprinted upon his pallid, drawn 
 features. 
 
 Daring the time this terrible scene was 
 being enacted, Floret was borne, in the careful 
 arms of Liper Leper, fron the spot where 
 Hagar Lot had placed her, to one which was 
 beyond the precincts of the Marquis's grounds. 
 
 In the interval which elapsed between his 
 meeting with Floret at the abode of Daddy 
 Windy and this night, he had contrived to as- 
 certain that the house of the Earl of Brack- 
 leigh was the one which Hflgar Lot had so 
 closely watched, and he haunted it like a sha- 
 dow, watching the movements of the Counters 
 wherever she went, until, on the afternoon of 
 the day upon which he was to conduct Floret 
 to an interview wi'h her mother, he followed 
 her to a house in Pimlico, which she entered. 
 From an upper window he caught sight of the 
 face of Ida, with an anxious expression upon 
 it, peering out ; and he, having discovered the 
 object of his search, gave up further attend- 
 ance on the Countess, and proceeded to his ap- 
 pointment with Floret. 
 
 Ha said not a word to her respecting the 
 discovery he had made ; but now that he held 
 her senseless in his arms, he made up his mind 
 what he would do. 
 
 The fresh air, and a restorative which he 
 administered, soon revived Floret ; but before 
 ehe could properly collect her thoughts, and 
 know in whose care she was, or remember what 
 had happened, he had engaged a cab and 
 placed her in it, mounting the box with the 
 driver, as before. 
 
 To the house of Mr. Spencer he made the 
 man drive with rapidity, and as there fortu- 
 nately happened to be no impediments in their 
 route, they very soon reached their destina- 
 tion. 
 
 While the vehicle was yet proceeding, Liper 
 Leper slipped off the box, and ran swiftly on 
 to the house, and rang the bell sharply and 
 even violently. 
 
 Almost the next instant, the cab drove up, 
 but simultaneously the door of Mrs. Spencer's 
 tenement opened, and Bob made a brisk ap 
 pearance, closely followed by Ida and Mrs. 
 Spencer, all having been startled by the loud 
 peal on the bell. 
 
 Bob butted his head inside the cab, and 
 with a species of spasmodic whoop, he gashed 
 out: 
 
 " E *h* ! I I think so 1" 
 
 How Floret got out, or was got out of the 
 
 cab, and borne into the house, she never knew ; 
 
 and "we are sure that no ona there could at 
 
 thai moiaent, or at any subsequent period 
 
 hrve lucidly enlightened her upon the point. 
 She only knew that Ida was embracing her 
 with sobs and cries of joy, while B >b was 
 promenading round the room as if waiting for 
 his turn to succeed Ida in affectionate acknowl- 
 edgments. If this surmise was correct, he 
 proved too impatient to wait, for he suddenly 
 seized his aunt, and gave her such a hug, that 
 when he released her, she insisted that he was 
 much too strong in his manifestations of ecs- 
 tasy, and if he went on in that way to Susan's 
 tali sister, whose acquaintance he had just 
 made, and to whom he had made declarations 
 of a perennial affection, he would have to at- 
 tend a coroner's inquest upon her before he 
 married her. 
 
 Poor Floret was overwhelmed by these testi- 
 monies of delight at her recovery, and as soon 
 as she could recover anything like self posses- 
 sion, she inquired for Liper Leper, to whom, 
 she informed them, she owed her return.to 
 Pimlico. 
 
 Everybody had forgotten the cab and its 
 driver, and a general rush was made to the 
 door, but cab and driver were gone, and ne 
 one else was visible Liper Leper had, there- 
 fore, gone, too, without waiting to be even 
 thanked. 
 
 Floret was disappointed, but she knew there 
 was much yet to be done, and that Liper Leper 
 would not desert her until her fate was set Jed 
 in one way or the other. 
 
 Bob, after he had pacified his aunt, by tell- 
 ing her he would never strain her to his heart 
 with such vigor again, and that when he fold- 
 ed Susan's sister to his bosom he would do it 
 with a milder violence, offered his congratula- 
 tions ta Floret, and informed her that she had 
 reached Pimlico in the very " nick of time". 
 He told her that Suean Atten, now Mrs. Harry 
 Vere, was back again from Canada, and in 
 London, residing only a street or two off. He 
 confessed that it was too late that night to go 
 and see her, but he entreated her to accom- 
 pany him in the morning to Susan's resi- 
 dence, for she was very anxious that they 
 should meet, not only because that she was 
 deeply attached to her from having reared her 
 from infancy to childhood, but because he be- 
 lieved now that she could materially influence 
 her future. 
 
 Floret shook her head despondently, but 
 she readily gave him the required promise, 
 for she was glad to hear of Susan's return to 
 England ; and he then, in a state of gleeful- 
 ness which it was pleasant to behold, took his 
 departure. 
 
 But not until he had given to Mrs. Spencer 
 another but more modified embrace, and had 
 winked at her roguisW v. saying : 
 
 *' Taat'a the eort of double harneea-fold for ' 
 Em'ly, eh, aunt ? I think so I" 
 
 Meanicg by Em'ly the aforesaid Susan 'a 
 sister. 
 
 When Floret retired with Ida to their sleep- 
 ing chamber how delieiously clen, and 
 sweet, and large it seemed to that which ehe 
 had inhabited ia Daddy Windy's houee Ida 
 
166 
 
 back 
 
 again embraced her, welcoming her 
 again with kisses oft and oft repeated. 
 
 The little Indian child, too, disturbed by ihe 
 noise of their entry, rose up in its bed, and on 
 seeing Floret, clapped its little hands, and 
 smiled with joy. Floret embraced it tenderly, 
 and a thought that, though she might be dis- 
 carded by those who ought to cherish and pro- 
 tect her, there was yet 'something to live for, 
 passed through her brain. 
 
 And then again Ida stole her arm around 
 her waist, and said, in a soft whisper : 
 
 " Dear dear Edith, I have so much to tell 
 you about whom do you think ?' ' 
 
 Floret sighed ; she was too depressed for ef- 
 forts of memory. 
 
 " I cannot think," she said. 
 ( " Nay, make a guess," urged Ida. 
 
 " Indeed, my mind is in a whirl, dear Ida," 
 she responded, sadly, " and I have not the 
 spirit to hazard even the simplest sugges- 
 tion." 
 
 : " Well, then," said Ida, with heightening 
 eolor, " Lord Victor !" 
 
 i Floret turned sharply and swiftly to her, and 
 Baid, with an expression of acute pain upon her 
 features : 
 
 " Do not mention that name to me, Ida, if 
 you love me. Do not repeat it to me if you 
 would ever have me speak to you again." 
 
 Ida gazed at her earnestly, and her eyes be- 
 came suffused with tears. 
 
 " You are so strange in your notions, dear 
 Edith," she said, with a kind of pitiful pout 
 of the lip ; " why should I not speak to you 
 of him?" 
 
 " You shall know some day sooner, per- 
 haps, than you expect," said Floret, and pass- 
 ed her hand over her eyes, adding : " Let us 
 retire to rest, Ida, dearest, for I am very, very 
 weary and dck at heart." 
 
 Floret slept not that night, Her mind was 
 racked with agony at the remembrance of the 
 interview with her mother. Every chilling 
 glance, every freezing word, every insulting 
 epithet she had flung at her she recalled, only 
 to inflict upon herself fresh poignancy of 
 grief. 
 
 In the morning she arose pale and unre- 
 freshed ; but though weak and ill, she remem- 
 bered her promise to Bob, and dressed herself 
 to be ready to attend his summons. 
 
 Bob was round very early, and was very 
 fussy, and very nervous. He seemed to have 
 many gulpings in his throat, and tears started 
 frequently into his eyes, as though his mind 
 was more occupied with events elsewhere, 
 than with those in which he was taking part. 
 
 But as soon as Floret declared herself ready 
 to depart with him, he bowed to her, as though 
 he did not aspire to the honor of offering her 
 his arm ; and he marched off before her with 
 very much of the grandeur and the dignity 
 which a Lord Mayor would display when 
 marching in front of a charming Princess of 
 Wales. 
 
 \ Upon reaching Little Elizabeth street, Bob 
 paused before the residence of Susan, and was 
 
 HAGAR LOT; 
 
 about to give a loud rat a-tat-tat upon th< 
 knocker, but the door was epened before h* 
 could commence his performance, and Mrs. 
 Henry Vere stood in the doorway. 
 
 She gazed wistfully and earnestly at Floret ; 
 for she was now so tall, and in her neat and 
 tasteful attire looked so elegant and lady- 
 like, that the impulse she felt to fold her in 
 her arms and press her to her heart waa 
 checked. 
 
 Floret, however, soon settled her hesitation ; 
 for she flung her arms about her neck, and 
 much as a sorrowful child would in the 
 arms of its mother, sobbed upon her neck. 
 
 "Poor Girl, Poor Girl!" murmured Susan, 
 with quivering lips. " How have you beer 
 made to suffer ; but God will help us, and all 
 will come right at last." 
 
 " I am very weak!" eaid Floret, plaintively, 
 "very weak and depressed just now, but 1 
 shall be stronger and firmer in the time to 
 come." 
 
 Bob hinted that looking at the sun made hi: 
 eyes water, and he could not think what made 
 him such a fool as to stare at it, for he was 
 compelled to wipe his eyes several times after 
 doing it. 
 
 " You have not forgotten Harry," said Su- 
 san to Floret, with a sudden blush. 
 
 " Indeed I have not, for he waa very kind to 
 me," returned Floret. 
 
 "He only did hio duty by thee, lass." ex- 
 claimed suddenly a voice close behind Susan. 
 " He promised Susey that he would do't by 
 thee, an' he has, lass ; he has as far maybe as 
 he CPU God help us all." 
 
 Hcny Vere was the speaker, and Floret in- 
 stantly recognized him. She held out both 
 her hands, and he shook them warmly. 
 
 " Coom in, lass," he added, in an undertone ; 
 " coooi in, till I bring thee to others as want to 
 see thee coom in !" 
 
 Floret passed into the small hall, and follow- 
 ed Susan, who led the way up a flight of 
 stairs. As they reached the door of the 
 apartment, Susan turned, and said to her in a 
 whisper, and with much emotion : 
 
 " Floret, dear, dear Floret, if ever you had 
 control over your firmness, courage, and 
 strength of mind, exert it now. Prepare for 
 estrange events. There is within here an in- 
 valid." 
 
 She opened the door gemtly, and ushered 
 Floret into the room. 
 
 The Utter glanced timidly round her, and 
 beheld, seated by the window, a tsli, thin man, 
 with a bronzed x'aee, whose features were stern 
 and careworn ; by his Bide sat a female, whose 
 countenance, perfectly colorless, waa yet 
 young in its aspect, and very pretty. Her 
 rich brown hair was parted plainly across her 
 temples, and her deep, earnest, brown eyes 
 were fixed upon vacancy. 
 
 As Floret gazed on both, filled with a won- 
 der and an agitation for which she could not 
 account, Susan, moving Floret slightly for- 
 ward, said, in a low, trembling voice, as if by 
 way of introduction : 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 167 
 
 "Tais is the Poor Girl!" 
 
 The tall, stern-faced man, partly rose Tip to 
 greet her ; but his face changed as bis glifter- 
 ing eyes fell on her face, to * ghastly yellow, 
 and groaning, he sank down in his teat again, 
 and turnJDg Iris head away, he covered his 
 eyes with his hand. 
 
 Susan, with streaming eyes and faltering 
 voice, continued, as Bho turned to the bewil- 
 dered Floret, and pointed to the man : 
 
 "That, Floret, is ie is Harry's brother, 
 Stephen Vero." 
 
 She paused as if to draw breath, as if to 
 find power to articulate, and then she pointed 
 to the female, who had not moved from her 
 position, or altered the direction of her eyes 
 when Floret entered, and said : 
 
 "This this O Floret! this is Fanny 
 Shelley !" 
 
 With a ecream with a gasp, Floret fell 
 fainting to the ground. 
 
 Susan caught her up, and sobbing, folded 
 her to her bosom. 
 
 " Floret," she cried, " Floret, have courage 
 have mercy upon us for God's sake, for all 
 our sakes, be firm look up, lookup O Har- 
 ry! Harry! Stephen, she's dying! she's 
 dying!" 
 
 Poor Floret, she was not proof against this 
 unlooked-for shock, any more than she had 
 been against her mother's cruel repulse of her, 
 and it was some time before their united ef- 
 forts could restore her to consciousness. 
 
 Susan had conveyed her to her own room, 
 and had not ceased in her efforts to bring her 
 round. Bob, in his fright, had dashed off for 
 the doctor, the same gentleman who had so 
 kindly attended her after her escape from the 
 fire, and fortunately met him aa he was pro- 
 ceeding to attend an elderly gentleman, who, 
 Laving been attacked by a pain in the knuc- 
 kle joint of his forefinger, had sent expressly 
 for him that he might examine it, prescribe 
 for it, and decide whether it would be the 
 proper thing for him to keep his bed for a 
 week or so on account of it. 
 
 Bob seized on the doctor, and in spite of 
 remonstrances and struggles, conveyed him to 
 Susan's abode, and did not release" him until 
 he had landed him safely in Susan's custody. 
 
 Floret, however, was then fast recovering, 
 and was becoming sensible of the circum- 
 stances by which she was surrounded. The 
 doctor waM soon enabled to hasten her restora- 
 tion, and aa she expressed with much agitation 
 an intence deaire to return to the room which 
 contained the long-supposed murdered Fanny 
 Shelley, he undertook to explain a few of the 
 mysteries connected with the latter to her 
 before she saw her again ; and he did this with 
 the object of rendering Floret calm, and pre- 
 pared to go through a no doubt exciting in- 
 terview with her. 
 
 Fanny Shelley in truth it was who was in 
 the adjoining apartment the same Fanny 
 Shelley who was the foster-sister of, and Lad 
 been the faithful and devoted attendant of 
 Constance Plautagenet. 
 
 And she was mad t 
 
 Upon the night she met Stephen Yere, it 
 will be remembered by the reader, that she, 
 while striving to prove her innocence to him, 
 was told by him that, owing to the situation 
 in which the suspicions of the village Lad 
 placed her, there was nothing but eternal 
 misery before them if they both stayed upon 
 earth, end that, therefore, they would quit it 
 together. She at that instant gazed up into 
 hia eyes, and there, as she believed and, 
 alas ! she was not far from the truth read a 
 design to murder her and Limself. 
 
 She at once fled away, was pursued by 
 him, fell senseless to the ground, as he, 
 startled by her flight, became sensible of his 
 own wickedness, and when he restored her, 
 she was a maniac ! 
 
 Not a raving, violent, desperate maniac; 
 but she was pensive, sad, and impressed with a 
 strange belief that she Lad lost her foster- 
 sister, and it was her mission to wander over 
 the face of the earth in search of her. 
 
 Stephen, in his first fright, conveyed her 
 to an outhouse at no great distance, and there 
 tried every means to restore Ler. 
 
 He succeeded, but only to find thai phe Lad 
 lost Ler reason. He conveyed Ler next to an 
 untenanted cottage, and there kept her closely 
 out of sight for a day, until he could deter- 
 mine what steps to take with respect to her. 
 
 A funeral, which took place at Beach- 
 borough, suggested a schema to him, and Le 
 earriedit out. 
 
 He knew that a girl who Lad died of fever 
 was not unlike Fanny Shelley in faee, form, 
 stature, and color of the Lair and eyes, and, 
 on the night she was buried, ho exhumed the 
 coffin, rifled it of its contents, replaced it, and 
 bore the body to the outhouse to which Le 
 Lad first carried Fanny Shelley. 
 
 He then conveyed Fanny, in the nigLt, to 
 Tunbridge Wells, placed Ler in the care of 
 some people there, and providing Ler with a 
 change of clothes, Le took away those which 
 she had worn, and dressed the corpse in them. 
 He gashed the face and throat, smeared it 
 with some fresh blood which Le Lad provided 
 for the purpose, and then oast it into the 
 brook, witL what result is now known. 
 
 He contrived, after the Coroner's inquest, 
 to convey Fanny to London, and there again, 
 aa she was perfectly harmless, placed her in 
 tLe custody of a family. Then Le returned, 
 and took leave of Lis family. He came back 
 to London, took Fanny away with him to 
 Liverpool, and thence to Canada, as his sister. 
 
 In Canada, Le made a confidant of Lis story ' 
 to a magistrate, and, for Fanny's sake, a mar- 
 riage-ceremocy was performed. It was strange ' 
 that she seemed to comprehend the service, 
 and to recognize the words. She even made 
 the responses firmly and collectively, and, 
 when it was ended, kissed Stephen on the 
 forehead, and whispered to him : 
 
 " Dear Stephen, I have been true to you ; I 
 will be, eo long as I may live I" 
 
 It was the only lucid interval she Lad had 
 
168 
 
 HAGAR LOT 
 
 in sixteen long yean ; but all the doctors who 
 had attended her seemed to have hopes that 
 her reason might yet be restored to her. 
 
 Tho medical gentleman whoso services Bob 
 had secured, addressing Floret with some em- 
 pha-'u, said : 
 
 "A shook produced it. Sudden excitement 
 may restore her. Upon you, from what I 
 gather, rests the only chance left." 
 
 \ I " Let me see her now," said Floret, appeal- 
 
 . 'ingly. 
 
 ii " Are yon strong enough, do you think ?" 
 inquired the Doctor. 
 
 p.) Floret looked at him. Strong enough ! He 
 inew not what depended upon Fanny Shel- 
 ley's recognition of her ; he could not know 
 what energy, what firmness, what determina- 
 tion she could bring to bear upon such an in- 
 terview, now that the mystery of Fanny's fate 
 had been so strangely and so happily cleared 
 up. 
 
 ! She rose up, she placed her hand in Susan's, 
 and said : 
 
 "Take me to her. I am prepared to go 
 through anything now." 
 
 Susan took her hand, pressed it, and led her 
 to the room door. 
 
 I " Do you feel faint ?" whispered the Doctor. 
 ! "The happiness of my life rests upon her 
 recognition of me. That is my answer," re- 
 turned Floret, with a quiet energy. 
 , " It is enough," responded the'Doctor. 
 ' Susan opened the door, and they all slowly 
 entered the room in which still sat Fanny 
 Shelley. 
 
 : 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 * Aitrange emotion stirs within him more 
 . Tkn mere compassion ever walk'd bef are ; 
 Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she 
 Springs forward, aa with life'* last energy," 
 
 ' Floret, as she entered the apartment, remem- 
 bered Liper Leper's words to her when recent- 
 ly referring to her history : 
 I " The secret of your birth," he said, "was 
 kept by the Marchioness of Westchester and 
 Fanny Shelley the latter is dead, the Mar- 
 chioness alone can furnish the proof you re- 
 quire." 
 
 | Fanny Shelley was, however, not dead ; she 
 
 was living though no"; sentient : if her reason 
 
 could be restored to her, she could furnish the 
 
 necessary proof, and establish the fact that 
 
 | Floret WAS the daughter of Lennox Bertram 
 
 . and Constance Neville PJantagecet. 
 
 t Floret perceived that there was a task be- 
 
 } fore her which would command all her ener- 
 
 V gies, intelligence, and her patience ; but she 
 
 j did not quail before it, because she saw Hope 
 
 i in her faireet attire shining beyond her labours. 
 
 | Tne Doctor had assured her, too, that tbere 
 
 Iras a possibility of the recovery of Fanny 
 
 Shelley's senses, and that success depended 
 
 mainly upon her. She resolved to earn it if 
 
 he did not conquer it. 
 
 ,, These thoughts revolved rapidly in heir mind 
 
 as she entered the chamber, and as she stood 
 for a moment gazing uf on the pale fact* bofore 
 her, and the deep brown eyes, bent steadfastly 
 upou vacancy. 
 
 Susan knelt down by the side of Fanny, and 
 said in a low voice to her : 
 " Fanny, dear, wiil jou talk with me ?" 
 For some time she did not reply, as though 
 
 .*.. , f J ' ' O M 
 
 she did not hear her. 
 
 She repeated her question several times, but 
 with a like unsuccerful result. 
 
 Then Stephen Vere said a few words to her ; 
 but at the sound of his voice she shrank, and 
 cowered, and shuddered. 
 
 With a look of pain, he turned his fao 
 away, and remained silent. 
 
 Then Harry bent forward and said to her : 
 
 "Do you know me, Fanny ?'' 
 
 She shook her her head ttlowly. 
 
 "I do not know you," she said, in a gentle, 
 plaintive voice. " I am among strangers al- 
 ways among strangers I am looking for her." 
 
 " Who are you looking for ?" a ked Harry. 
 
 " Aha !" she answered slightly knitting hez 
 brows. " I cannot teil you, no no no, it ii 
 such a dreadfulsecret. Shall I never find her. n 
 
 "Why do you want to find her?" asked 
 Harry quietly. 
 
 " I must not tell you, I must not tell any 
 one," she answered, in the same tender, com- 
 plaining tone. ' I would have told Stephen- 
 dear Stephen but I promised to keep hei 
 frightful secret, andC have. Stephen would 
 have killed me, because I would not betray 
 her; and it broke my heart. O! Stephen I 
 Stephen dear Stephen! we ahull meet in 
 heaven, when our troubles are ended. O, il 
 you had only known how faithful I was to you, 
 and how I loved you you would have never 
 looked at me so angrily, nor have spoken to 
 me so harshly and unkindly as you did on that 
 dreadful night." 
 
 " I cannot bear this," murmured Stephen, 
 with a trembling lip, moving as he would quit 
 the apartment- 
 Susan stayed him with an entreating gesture. 
 
 ''For her sake for your own sake re- 
 main," she whispered. 
 
 Then ehe turned hastily to Floret, and with" 
 clasped hands aid, beseechingly : 
 
 " Speak to her, dear Floret though but a 
 word. Your voice will sound strange in her 
 ears ; it may attract her attention towards y ou. M 
 
 " Fanny 1" exclaimed Floret, instantly ad- 
 dressing her, in a clear, half-playful tone, 
 whicn, though asaumed, was well adapted 
 to the purpose for which it was intended, 
 " will you not speak to me?" 
 
 Fanny started as if under the influence of an 
 electric shock, and murmured : 
 
 "That voice where did that voice come 
 from?" 
 
 She turned her head slowly round, and her 
 eyes moved restlessly, but still with a vacant 
 expression. 
 
 *' Fanny !" repeated Floret, with a beating 
 heart, " look upon me. Have you forgo tteu 
 me?" 
 
OE. THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 169 
 
 Ajjain Fanny started as though a violent 
 drill ran through her frame, and her lips mov- 
 ed more rapidly than ever. 
 
 Suddenly they encountered Floret's face, and 
 they diUted to an extent which gave to ber 
 white countenance an awful expression. They 
 rested there, and her lips movfcd quickly. 
 
 A dead silence reigned in the room, every 
 one held their breath ; Floret, though almost 
 appalled by the glare with which Fanny re- 
 garded her, did not remove for an instant her 
 eyes from her. 
 
 Fanny raised her hand slowly, and passed it 
 over her forehead, then she pressed it upon 
 her eyelids, closing her eyes. Presently she 
 opened them, and again they rested upon 
 Floret's face. 
 
 '* It is a spectre," she muttered ; " it is only 
 a shadow, a mockery, which haunts me." 
 
 She clasped her hands, and holding them 
 ftppealingly to Floret, said : 
 
 " Leave "me, for you are not real. Go, for 
 you are a shadow. Pity me, pity me! 
 When you appear to me as" a shade you pain 
 tne. You make my heart ache. Go go!" 
 
 She pressed her hands upon her heart. 
 
 41 Ob, the agony I suffer !" she continued, in 
 a tone of anguish. "Miss Conetanoe, have 
 mercy. I would have died for you ; be mer- 
 eiful to me depart, and leave me in peace !" 
 
 Suddenly, as if influenced by an inspiration 
 Floret, in a rich, sweet, tremulous voice, which 
 moved every one to tears, sang : 
 
 " Oranges, sweet oranges, 
 
 Pulpy cheeks that peep through trees." 
 
 Fanny listened with a wild, attentive look ; 
 and as Floret passed on, concluding the verse, 
 took up the refrain, and sang with a peculiar 
 Ij soft, silvery tone : 
 
 "La, la, sol fa mi, 
 Hy lady looked through the orange tree." 
 
 She still kept her eye fixed intently up- 
 on Floret's face, and rose slowly up and ad- 
 vanced toward her. 
 
 Floret, unnerved by her sudden movement, 
 tank affrighted upon a chair. 
 
 Fanny instantly placed herself at her feet, 
 and looking fondly in her fair young face, 
 UDiig in the same low, thrilling tones : 
 
 " Tet cheeks there are, yet cllfcks there are 
 Sweeter 0, gooiGod, how far 
 Which makes a thirst like very death, 
 Down to the heart through lips and, breath 
 And if we ask a taste of those, 
 
 The kindest owners would turn foes. 
 
 La, la, la, scl fa mi, 
 My lady's gone from the orange tree." 
 
 "Gone!" she murmured, plaintively; 
 ** gone forevergone gone gone !" 
 
 She covered her eyes with her hands, and 
 bowing her head upon her knees, wept bitterly. 
 
 The Doctor raised his hands to direct silence 
 and Susan forced her hands tightly over her 
 mouth, to keep down her sobs. 
 
 The dead silence perhaps had the effect o 
 inducing Fanny to lift her head slowly, anc 
 gaze around her. 
 
 Ag&in her eyes encountered the face of 
 
 and, rieiog tipon ber kfleee, sh* stretch- 
 ed ont her hand ana murmured 
 *' Not gone still here ? Not pore !'* 
 She touched Floret's hands. A etracpe, 
 .ow, hoarse cry burst frpm her lips, ttbe ran 
 ler tremblicg fingers over Floret's shoulders, 
 r face, her hair. 
 
 " Flesh and blood !" she exclaimed, ia quiv- 
 ering accents ; "real, warm, breathing hfe 
 can it be true? Are you no phantom? In the 
 name of Heaven, speak to me?" 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, Fanny, I am living, breath- 
 ng as you see me," answered Floret, ia feeble, 
 unsteady tones. 
 
 A wild, hysterical laugh burst from berlipe. 
 
 ''Mies Constance, dear Mies Constance, fos- 
 ter-sister!" she exc]aimed, as she caught her 
 band?, and kissed them passionately, " we 
 have not been sundered forever, and *' 
 
 She paused, and turned ber eyes upward, for 
 a figure was bending over her. Sne gazed 
 steadfastly, but for an instant only. She rec- 
 ognized the face. 
 
 She sprang to her feet,'shrieking : 
 
 " Stephen Stephen my own dear, deal 
 Stephen!" 
 
 Sbe flung her arms about his neck. 
 
 " This is no dream," she cried, wildly ; "n 
 cheating of the senses." 
 
 " It is reality, my own darling girl !" he re- 
 sponded, as preesing her to his heart, he eob- 
 bed like a boy upon her shoulder. 
 
 In less almost than a second she drew her* 
 self back, and raised his face, so that she could 
 gaze upon it wet as it, was with tears. 
 
 " O, yes yes, it ia my Stephen 1" she ex- 
 claimed, with increasing excitement. " It is 
 you, Stephen, and with looks which are full oi 
 love for me still ! O, my God, my God ! I 
 thank thee I I ! O, my brain, my brain, 
 it is bursting!" 
 
 She screamed as she uttered the last words, 
 and sank senseless, like a log, in Stephen's 
 arms. 
 
 The Doctor stepped forward. 
 
 " Her reason is restored, I believe I" he ex- 
 claimed in a low tone. *' But there is much 
 yet to be done, and we must do that much 
 carefully. Lay her gently upon the couch. 
 I will soon bring her back to life. Tou per- 
 ceive that she has recognized the two beings 
 she loved moat in the world. Their faces 
 must be the first upon which she rests her 
 eyes when she recovers from her swoon ; if she 
 still recognizes them, the remainder of our 
 task will be easy. The rest of you had better 
 retire." 
 
 Harry shook his brother's hand heartily, 
 and in silence ; and then he took Susan in hia 
 arms, and kiesed her fondly. 
 
 Bob gave a low hem ! to clear his throat, he 
 dashed the back of his hands across bis mois- 
 tened eyelids, as he fancied, unobserved, and 
 then glided out of the room in search of Emily, 
 in order, we suspect, that he might practice 
 upon her that said " double harness fold". 
 
 At least he muttered, as he disappeared Tith 
 a roguish wink at Susan : 
 
170 
 
 IIAGAB LOT ; 
 
 " I think eo." 
 
 Snsan and Harry followed him, leaving only 
 Stephen and Floret alone with the Dootor and 
 Fanny. 
 
 Both Stephen and Floret watched with in- 
 tccfle eagerness for the signs of returning con- 
 sciousness, and as Fanny's breast began to 
 heare, and a sigh escaped her lips, the Doctor 
 whispered to Floret : 
 
 " Let yours be the first face to meet the gaze 
 of her opening eyes. She has, although un- 
 conscious of his identity, been acccstomed to 
 see Mr. Vere ; but the lady whom yon repre- 
 sent has been the constant object of her 
 thoughts during her aberration of intellect, 
 and upon seeing your countenance when she 
 comes out of her swoon, and finds that you are 
 a living, bee.thing object, it may prevent a 
 relapse. It will be as well for a time to keep 
 up the impression that you are the lady whom 
 ehe supposes you to be ; for if you succeed in 
 making her recognize you, and to talk coher- 
 ently with you, and she afterward recognizes 
 her husband and converses with him lucidly, 
 though even in a email degree, your battle 
 will be won. The only thing remaining will be 
 to restore her shattered strength ; and as her 
 constitution is perfectly sound, a few weeks 
 will not only do that, but bring back her lost 
 memory, leaving only that gap, between the 
 first shock to her reason and now, which noth- 
 ing but her husband's revelations can fill up." 
 
 It may be imagined with what intense anxie- 
 ty they all watched, the signs of returning ani- 
 mation after the Doctor's remarks. 
 
 Floret sat by Fanny's side, with her hand in 
 hers, and her face disposed so that the light 
 from the window fell upon it, and it would be 
 the first object which would meet Fanny's gaz.e. 
 
 Stephen and the Doctor stood back and 
 maintained a breathless silence. 
 
 F.'oret perceived the eyelids of Fanny flut- 
 tering rapidly, and bending lower still over 
 her, she sang, in a low, touching voice, the 
 refrain of the orange-ballad, which she had 
 only heard from the lips of Lord Victor and 
 Fanny ; and which she had treasured in her 
 memory ever since she had heard his rich 
 voice chant it in Trentham wood : 
 
 " La, la, la, sol fa mi, 
 
 My lady looked through the orange tree." 
 
 As the tones thrilled in Fanny's ears, for she 
 had so far recovered as to be susceptible to 
 sound she opened her eyes and fastened them 
 on Floret's face. 
 
 She gazed at her thoughtfully for almost a 
 minute without uttering a word ; but her 
 throat palpably worked uneasily. 
 
 Floret pressed her hand, and exclaimed, in 
 a clear though slightly tremulous tone 
 
 i " Fanny, you know me now, I am sure." 
 
 Fanny half raised herself, and squeezed 
 her hand almost convulsively : 
 
 , "O, Miss Constance 1" she exclaimed, 
 speaking quickly, and with emotion. " It is 
 roally you I am not dreaming ! O, I seem 
 io have worn away a life in one long, horrid 
 
 dream but, thank Heaven, I eee you now still 
 a girl still I a" she cast her eyes rapidly 
 round her, and exclaimed hurriedly, " Where 
 are we? 0, Miss Constance, what strange 
 place is this ?" 
 
 Stephen Vere stepped gently forward, and 
 in a shaking voice, but yet with the utmost 
 tendernerp, enid ; 
 
 " Fanny, my girl, you are with me." 
 
 She turned her eyes up to his, and held out 
 her hand to him. 
 
 " And Stephen, too, dear Stephen, I have 
 had an awful dream of you !" she exclaimed, 
 and checking herself, said abruptly, with an- 
 other surprised glance around her : "Have I 
 been ill?" 
 
 /'Yes, very ill," observed the Doctor, step- 
 ping forward, and adding, in a professional 
 tone, "You are under my care, and must for 
 some time be kept very quiet, free from all 
 excitement, see no one, and not even talk un- 
 til I grant you permission. You must not 
 think me harsh and cruel ; for it is not only for 
 your own goe<l that I must exact this disci- 
 pline, but for the sake of those who are most 
 dear to you. You know now that yon are 
 surrounded by friends, who will take the 
 greatest care of you, but who will also explain 
 everything to you when you are strong enough 
 to hear all that may have to be told to you." 
 
 " You will do what the Doctor so kindly 
 advises, for my sake, will you not, Fanny ?" 
 asked Floret, pressing her hand. 
 
 Fanny gazed fondly at her. " I would die 
 for you, MIPS Constance," she murmured. 
 
 "'And thee'lt be obedient for my sake, too, 
 Fanny, girj, wiltthee not?" observed Stephen, 
 in an affectionate tone. 
 
 She looked tip at him lovingly. 
 
 " Indeed I will, dear Stephen," she replied, 
 
 And so, without more words, she was re- 
 moved to her sleeping-apartment, and Floret 
 took her leave of her, while Susan, whom 
 Fanny, after a careful study of her features, 
 recognized, much to her delight, prepared to 
 wait upon her as, in fact, she had waited on 
 heras if she was a eister, whom she loved 
 better than herself. 
 
 As soon as they were alone, Fanny put her 
 arms round Susan's neck, and said, with a 
 kind of frightened look : 
 
 "I begin to oeejthat something terrible and 
 strange has occurred. Stephen looks older, 
 and you look older to me than you ought, and 
 yet Miss Constance ia as young and beautiful 
 as she was when when " 
 
 " Dear, dear Fanny, you must not talk nor 
 think now," interposed Susan, placing her 
 hand before Fanny's mouth. " You have 
 be3n ill for a long time ; many changes have 
 occurred since, and the happineas of many 
 depends upon your recovery ; therefore, you 
 must be quiet and patient, obedient and good, 
 and the Doctor says you will soon be quite 
 well. O Fanny, do what the Doctor wishes 
 you. We all love you, and \7e shall ell be so, 
 so happy when we know that jou are well and 
 strong again." 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE P00$ GIRL. 
 
 171 
 
 Fanny's kind and yielding nature wag in 
 her favor ; for, laying her Lead back upon her 
 pillow, she murmured : 
 
 " I will try to be patient and resigned. I 
 shall know all, I fear, soon enough." 
 
 The Doctor hurried home, and sent a gentle 
 opiate, which Susan instantly administered to 
 Fanny, and she quickly sank into a gentle 
 but sound slumber. 
 
 Floret, in the meantime, took her depart- 
 ure, escorted by Bob, in a yet prouder and 
 more dignified style than any lord mayor 
 could have brought to light. Hia eye glit- 
 tered like the evening star, hia face was all 
 smiles, and hia heart leaped with joyfor had 
 not Fanny recovered her senses ? would not 
 the Poor Girl become a great lady ? and had 
 he not, after several shyings on the part of 
 Em'ly, prac ft'-sed, with success, " the double- 
 harness fold" ? 
 
 Bob parted with Floret at Mrs. Spencer's 
 door, and she found, on entering the house, 
 thaj Mrs. Spencer and Ida had gone out for a 
 short time, taking with them the little Indian 
 girl. 
 
 She was not sorry to hear this from the di- 
 minutive little maid whom Mrs. Spencer em- 
 ployed to assist her, because she felt a strong 
 wish to be alone, that she might collect her 
 thoughts, and contemplate calmly, but with a 
 just and keen perception, the new situation 
 which the discovery cf Fanny Shelley's exist- 
 ence and the restoration of her senses opened 
 for her. She, therefore, proceeded to her 
 humble, but neatly- arranged apartments, 
 and, retiring to her bed-chamber, removed her 
 walking apparel, and returned to the sitting- 
 room, repeating, involuntarily, in conse- 
 quence, perhaps, of her lightened spirits, the 
 two lines which he had sung in response to 
 her in Trentham Wood : 
 " La, la, la, sol fa ml, 
 My lady looked through the orange tree." 
 
 While the last note was lingering upon her 
 lip, she fancied that she saw a figure arise 
 from a chair which was placed in a corner of 
 the room. 
 
 She turned quickly, thinking it waa,Ida who 
 had returned, and was anxiously awaiting the 
 result of her visit to Mrs. Henry Vere, and 
 she gazed, as ehe supposed, toward her with a 
 smile, which instantly faded from her face. 
 
 It was Lord Victor who stood tefore her. 
 
 With a disconcerted mien, she retreated a 
 few steps, and he advanced a little more hast- 
 ily, fearing she was about to reiire from the 
 room. 
 
 "Will you not speak to me?" he said, in 
 low and earnest tones. 
 
 Shs cast her eyea upon the ground, and re- 
 mained silent. 
 
 He looked steadfastly upon her face, and 
 continued : 
 
 " Indeed, you may, Floret, without consid- 
 eration or 'hesitation. Observe my attire. 
 You will perceive that I am in deep mourn- 
 ing. I have suffered a heavy family bereave- 
 ment. A fit pf apoplexy carried off my fa- 
 
 ther some ten days back, and on the morning 
 following that day, the post brought a letter, 
 conveying the mournful intelligence that my 
 elder and only brother was drowned while at- 
 tempting to rival Leander'a fea*, and ewim 
 across the Hellespont. I am, therefore, now 
 the Marquis of Broadlands." 
 
 Floret placed her hand on her boeom, to 
 keep down the tumultuous beating of her 
 heart ; but, save by a slight bend of the form, 
 to acknowledge that she heard what he said, 
 she remained silent and motionless. 
 
 "I have not mentioned thia change in my 
 position, Floret," he continued, in tne came 
 low, rich, fervid tone, " with any other object 
 than to acquaint you that I aui responsible to 
 no one on earth but myslf for my actions, BO 
 that you may the more fully comprehend 
 what I ain about to say to you. May I pray 
 you to be eeated while I address you ?" 
 
 " Thank you, my Lord," returned Floret, 
 faintly ; " I would rather remain as I am." 
 
 " Bo ifc BO," he replied. 
 
 He paused for a moment, as if to take a deep 
 breath, and to nerve himself to utter all that 
 he had in hia mind and that he intended to 
 say, and then he went on his voice, though 
 tremblftg slightly, being very earnest in its 
 expression. 
 
 " Let me premiee that I am fully acquaint- 
 ed with your history BO far as it can be at 
 present known, but tuat it has not, does not, 
 and will not affect my intentions. I should say 
 to you what I am now about to reveal with the 
 same sincerity, if I knew you to be a veritable 
 Poor Girl, the daughter of that strange old 
 gipsy man who had you under his care, and 
 with more sincerity than if I knew you to be 
 the only child of one of our proudest dukes. 
 
 "Floret, human emotions are not regulated 
 by the relations in which we stand to each 
 other in society, although society endeavors 
 to make feeling subservient to rank, and they 
 are not regulated by them, because they will 
 not submit to their thralldom. Love is not a 
 deity" 
 
 Floret raised her eyes, and interposed, in a 
 tone of distress : " I pray you, my Lord, to 
 spare me further remarks." 
 
 " Floret," he replied, quickly, " you are too 
 keenly sensitive. I can easily comprehend 
 how, with your natural feelings and instincts, 
 your hard attrition with the world has made 
 you suffer more acutely and poignantly the 
 remarks and conduct of others than it would 
 those who have been more happily chcum- 
 atanced; but, pardon me, it scarcely allow 
 you to be unjust to mo in your thoughts." ; 
 
 " Unjust to you, my Lord I 1 ' she exclaimed, 
 taken off her guard by her surprise. " Yon 
 wrong me by that impression. 1 have never 
 been unjust to you in my thoughts. Ou the 
 contraiy, I have always regarded you with the 
 ten with the kin with, I wish to say, proper 
 appreciation of your worth," she finished, 
 blushing like a rose, and much confused. 
 
 Hia heart beat rapidly as he observed her 
 embarrassment, and he went on juiekljr ; > 
 
172 
 
 " I BO wieh that we should quite 
 each other, FJoret, that I entreat you if I uee 
 an observation that may be unacceptable to 
 you, to correct me. I have not sought you 
 believe me, to extort from you any expression 
 of sentiments or opinion. I am here to make 
 a plain statement to you, and to leave to you 
 your own time to give me a reply, if you 
 vouchsafe me any reply at all." 
 
 Again he paused, and drew a deep breath. 
 He then proceeded rapidly : 
 
 " Floret, when we first met I was a mere boy, 
 and you were a child. I was greatly attracted 
 by your face, and much struck, noi; only by 
 the fact of your making to me the offer of * 
 bouquet of wild flowers of your own arrange- 
 ment, but by your manner and by your words. 
 I smiled at your offering, and you, with a swift 
 and rising color, as though that smile had 
 stung you, begged me not to scorn your gift. 
 Yoa told me tbat it was all you had to bestow 
 you had nothing better, or you would give 
 it to me. Floret, after that event, your face 
 was engrayen upon my eyes, your words upon 
 my heart. Surrounded as 1 had been with 
 sycophants and flatterers, I had seldom met 
 with a piece of genuine, unsophisticated na- 
 ture, unless it were of a very unattractive kind. 
 Your eyes, clear, large, and liquid, haunted 
 me ; your words thrilled me as I repeated them 
 over and over again. I was but a boy a boy, 
 Fleret one who is spoken of with contempt 
 where the heart is concerned ; but who is, 
 nevertheless, then sincere, guileless, pure, and 
 unselfish I confess that I regarded the event 
 as an episode in my life, out of which nothing 
 would come but a pleasant memory, and that 
 time would wear off its influence. But time 
 did not diminish its influence, and memory 
 only seemed to grow brighter by feeding on 
 the incidents of that morning. I premised 
 that I would preserve that small bouquet while 
 I lived. I have it now. "Will you not believe 
 me?" 
 
 " I I know if," ehe faltered, faintly. 
 
 She remembered vividly Mrs. Spencer's lit- 
 tie anecdote. 
 
 He erailed instantly, and rejoined : 
 
 "Very likely. Poor Mrs. Spencer's zeal 
 very nearly robbed me of my greatest trea- 
 sure. Let me proceed ; I was very careful 
 after that circumstance cf your gift, and it be- 
 came my daily companion, as it is now. When 
 I went to college, I found that the society of 
 friends and companions, the laborious duties 
 of study, and the indulgence of pleasure did 
 ..cot weaken the brightness of the vision which 
 [nightly brought your face before me, or di- 
 minish my daily recollection of our meeting in 
 Trentbam Wood. As I grew, these memories 
 grew wu,h me, until it became eventually a 
 subject of such grave importance to me that it 
 ; was essential that I should examine into tho 
 real feelings of my heart. The way in which 
 your form and face clung to my memory was 
 neither an accident nor a thing of course, and 
 I felt it a ou-y to myself to solve the inyctery. 
 At this time I met you a second time, ako in 
 
 EAGAR LOT 
 
 Trentham Wood, when, strangely ftnougb, a 
 second time ray services were requisite to give* 
 you aid, although I then failed to succeed in 
 rescuing you. That interview, however, 
 served to make still brighter in my mind tho 
 impression of you that I had already formed, 
 and to confirm an opinion which I had hazard- 
 ed as to your nature ; but still I was at a loss 
 to comprehend why your face, your eyes, your 
 form, your voice should haunt me incessantly ; 
 but when I quitted this house after the first in- 
 terview that I had here with you, the mystery 
 remained a mystery no longer. Floret, that 
 night my self-examination proved to me that 
 I loved you." 
 
 Floret turned half way from him. 0, the 
 bliss ; 0, the ecstasy, the unfathomable joy, 
 those four poor words gave to her ; and O, the 
 agony which instantly succeeded! for what 
 could his affection for her be but a love mis- 
 placed ^a love which she could not accept, and 
 which it would break her heart to reject 1 
 
 In a somewhat unsteady, but still a passion- 
 ately-earnest voice, he proceeded : 
 
 " That I loved you truly, fondly, devotedly, 
 and sincerely. Loved you, Floret, as a man 
 sLould love a woman, as woman lovea when 
 she does love without a reserve." 
 
 He ceased for a moment, evidently over- 
 come by his emotion, but hastily, by a strong 
 effort, recovering himself, he went on : 
 
 " When assured that I was not self-deluded, 
 I then addressed myself to the consideration 
 of the course it was my duty to pursue. My 
 task was an easy one ; but my decision was 
 not arrived at without a most careful reflec- 
 tion and close search into the deepest recesses 
 of my nature. The result was the same as if 
 I had not reflected at all. I found that I 
 loved you truthfully, and I determined that, il 
 I could win your consent, we would join onr 
 fates together, and whatever would be our cir- 
 cumstances, we would pass through life to- 
 gether, lovirg and loved. On arriving at thia 
 conclusion, I sought you to acquaint you with 
 my eelf-comrounionand its end; but you had 
 quitted ^iere on a visit to Lady Brackleigh. I 
 sought you there ; but altheogh I had the 
 happiness to see you on that occasion for a 
 moment only, dreesed to receive the Earl of 
 Brackleigh/I was unable to speak with yon. 
 I sought you again, but you were gone, and 
 none knew where. I have since searched for 
 you in every direction throughout London 
 where I thought it probable or possible you 
 might be found, but in vain. This morning I 
 learned, to my joy, that you had returned to 
 your home, and 1 am here here, Floret, un- 
 trammeled by a consideration, with the power 
 to act as I will, unfettered ; here with a full 
 heart, in which there lurks not a scruple, with 
 a full knowledge of your condition and my 
 own, to entreat me to grant me your hand, that 
 \ou may become my beloved, adored, honored 
 wife." 
 
 He spoke with BO much earnestness and 
 emotion that the last word was barely audible, 
 and he became eilent 
 
OK, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 373 
 
 He saw her press Ler folded hands upon her 
 Bottom, he pttw the fast- falling tears descend 
 from her eyes, but her head was bent down, 
 perhaps to conceal her agitation. 
 
 fle squeezed hie hands together/ and in a 
 husky voice be said ; 
 
 " Perhaps you have already given your heart 
 to another, and uiy confession only pains and 
 .distresses you ?" 
 
 " No! O, no no!" e&e replied, faintly, but 
 without raising her head. 
 
 " Floret dear, dear Floret, have I offended 
 you ?" he continued, earnestly. 
 
 8 he raised her eyes to hie, and, suffused as 
 they were with bright tears, he saw that there 
 was in them an expression of reproach. 
 
 "Miy I hope?" he gasped, eagerly. "0 
 Floret, one word one little word for my 
 heart is bursting !" 
 
 Not a word. But she looked in his eyes, 
 her o*n beaming with such fond, passionate 
 love, that instinctively he held out his arms 
 to h?r, and with a cry of entranced delight, 
 ehe flung herself into them. 
 
 A haven of hope, of joy, of reet, of happi- 
 ness, to her !" 
 
 It was awkward that at this moment the 
 Countess of Brackleigh should open the door, 
 and observe the poor, tempest-tossed vessel 
 taking refuge in the said haven. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 " "What is the world to them, 
 its pomp, its pleasure, ami its lionaease all, 
 Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
 High fancy forms ar,d lavish hearts can wish ? 
 Bometbing than beauty dearer efcould they look 
 Or on the mind, or micd illumin'd f aco ; 
 Truth, goouneis, honor, harmony, and lore, 
 The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven !" 
 
 THOMSON. 
 
 Of course, the situation was exceedingly 
 embarrassing both to Floret and to Victor 
 Marquis of Broaclands, when simultaneously 
 they perceived the Couuteess of Brackleigh 
 Btandk'g at the door of the apartment. 
 
 The young Marquis, however, locked, and 
 EO doubt he ftlfc greatly elated net a<i the 
 discovery, but at the delicious fact in which 
 he had been, as he regarded it, prematurely 
 caught. 
 
 Floret, on the contrary, was* overwhelmed 
 with very genuine confusion, for when impel- 
 led bv the impulses of along,deeply-ch*rietied 
 love, and of joy to find it so ardently and 
 truthfully reciprocated, she threw heieeif into 
 the opened arms of Victor, he 
 
 "Did much what you would do, 
 His youcg lips thanked her with a graceful kiss" 
 not a very long one, for the unexpected en- 
 trane ot the Countess interfered with its du 
 ration, and prevented what might have prov- 
 ed a very exquidte intercommunion of 
 thoughts and acknowledgments. 
 
 Poor FJoret I Within her racollection the 
 lips of a male bad never been pressed to here. 
 D-iddy Windy, during her childhood, when at 
 times fuller than usual of gin and water and 
 tobacco, would feel pareut-il emotions of hffec 
 lion bteal over him. Regarding her aweet 
 
 fiico with an approving eye, ho would conde- 
 scend to profier her a chaste salute ; b t she 
 invariably shrunk from him wi^h lonibicg and 
 haughty indigaation. Li per Lper had ut all 
 times approached her with a singular respect, 
 and he had never permitted a forward boy, 
 who gazed with longing eye upon her peachy 
 cheek, with deigns upon its bloom, to come 
 near her. 
 
 So, when Victor drew her fondly to hia 
 breast and imprinted the aforesaid " grateful 
 kiss", a nef sensation stole over her, tweet, 
 delicious indescribable. 
 
 Ay indescribable! For who shall be able 
 to put into words the emotions which, on re- \ 
 ceiving tbe fin- 1 kiss of pure and passionate ; . 
 love darting down ; 
 
 " Dawn to the heart through lips and hreath," 
 is felt by a young and iniioceLt girl ? We are 
 sure that we are quite unable to depict in any 
 hnguage that which has no voice; end we 
 are equally sure that no one e?ee knows any- 
 thing about the matter, so as to apvly describe 
 it, but the one who baa 
 
 41 Loved and Buffered." 
 
 Even she would not attempt tbe taek, al- 
 though ebe remembers the eeubauon eo well 
 ah, so well ! 
 
 Floret, outwardly, was bewildered, trem- 
 bling, confused, and her cheek wore the color 
 of an expanded moss rose. She looked fright- 
 ened, too, arid displayed evident, eigno of run- 
 ning from the room, but that Lord Victor- 
 we shall continue to call him by that title- 
 interfered (o prevent her. 
 
 But what oid the Countess of Brackleigh 
 say? How did she lock ? What did she do? 
 
 To their utter eurprise, and to the restora 
 tion of their faculties, she burd into a wild and 
 paeeionate fit of weeping. 
 
 Tkey both regarded her in astonished si- 
 lence, uniil Fiorst, perceiving how convulsed 
 was her frame, approached Jber, and timidly 
 taking ter hand, begged her to explain the 
 cause of her tears. 
 
 Abashed and frightened at her own instinc- 
 tive acknowledgment of the love ebe here for 
 Victor, 8De was afraid thatebe had committed 
 a fault eo drtaoml, that it bed brou>iit this 
 flood of tears to the eyes of tbe Cjuu't 83. She 
 did not herself think the fault, if f*ult if, ere, 
 so very dreadful ; but ehe was prep red to ask 
 pardon for if-, and promise cot to b gu'Jry of 
 the weakness not wicktdLess, the would not 
 admit tbtt any more, if she could >*)p i?. 
 
 She did not proceed so far as to tay ibis., al- 
 though ebe tuougut it; for ibe <Jv>UQfe*8 
 quickly dried her tears, and, hiljirg out a 
 huixi to each, said, as ehe prte#eii ibeira : 
 
 'Pardon my weakness; the tight < f your 
 happiue a s caused me to imagine what trice 
 inicbt hiV bceo, Aid to remember 
 been!" 
 
 Sbe ighe4 deeply, and then 
 
 41 Viotor. >ou ale a nob/e 
 of the moat devo'ed and unallowed 1 ve of the 
 faireet and truest womau iu Uie woild. Muy 
 
1U 
 
 HAGAK, LOt ; 
 
 the, in her future integrity prove, what her 
 youog life has already foreshadowed, as spot- 
 less as she is fair. You mnst remember that 
 I am the daughter of one of the people, and I 
 appreciate your honorable abandonment of 
 erery consideration but that of having an in- 
 nocent and true woman as the partner of your 
 happiness, and the depository of your love. I 
 congratulate you both." 
 
 She kissed Floret tenderly on both cheeks, 
 and with a smile, and in a soft, enthusiastic 
 tone, which made Floret's heart leap, she 
 said : 
 
 i " And the Poor Girl will be a Great Lady 
 yet." 
 
 The Countess then acknowledged to them 
 that she had reached the door of the apart- 
 ment as Lord Victor made bis declarat : on to 
 Floret, and as she was anxious to hear what 
 he would say, she paused there. If his pro- 
 posals had been of such a nature that Floret 
 ought to have spurned them, it was her inten- 
 tion to have interfered, and to have sternly re- 
 buked him for his wickedness ; but when she 
 ascertained that his purpose was an honora- 
 ble one, she remained quiet until that eloquent 
 embrace took place, and then she " discovered 
 check". 
 
 She then questioned Floret closely respect- 
 ing the causes which led her to quit her roof 
 eo abruptly, and begged her to communicate 
 to her fill that had occurred to her since they 
 had been separated. 
 
 Floret complied without reserve, because 
 she believed the affection which the Countess 
 professed for her to be genuine, and her inter- 
 eat in her successful future disinterested ; for 
 if she succeeded, it was clear the Countess 
 must prove a heavy sufferer. 
 
 The Countess was not a little amazed to find 
 Floret in possession of the stolen register of 
 the marBiage between the Earl of Brackleigh 
 and the Marchioness of Westchester ; but she 
 was yet more astounded to learn that Fanny 
 Shelley was living. An expression of trium- 
 phant joy passed over her flushed features, 
 and an exclamation of such intense gratifica- 
 tion escaped her lips, that it attracted the no- 
 tice both of Floret and Lord Victor. They ex- 
 changed looks. 
 
 Presently, taking advantage of a pause in 
 the conversation, Floret said, hesitatingly : 
 
 " Pardon me, Lady Brackleigh, if I make 
 the suggestion that your efforts to prove the 
 marriage of of my of Miss Constance 
 Plantagenet with Lennox Bertram, and the es- 
 tablishment of my claim to be the legitimate 
 offspring of that marriage, tends to a species 
 of self immolation." 
 
 "And if it does, what then?" inquired the 
 Countess, sternly. 
 
 ' " I would ask humbly," the returned" for 
 I feel as though I were in some way a par- 
 ticipator in the wrong done to yoa where- 
 fore you are desirous of throwing away your 
 position, and of giving to the world the power 
 of saying many cruel and unkind thicga of 
 you!" 
 
 " Not cruel find unkind things of me," in- 
 terposed the Countess, hastily ; " the world 
 will compassionate will pity me." 
 
 "I would rather perish in miserable ob- 
 scurity than be pitied!" exclaimed Floret, 
 with a sudden gesture of lofty scorn. And 
 then she added, in a quieter tone, "You 
 would cease to be Lady Brackleigh were the 
 clandestine marriage to be substantiated, would 
 you not ? You would return to your father's 
 home broken-spirited, humiliated, and un- 
 happy r 
 
 Not more broken-spirited, humiliated, cr 
 miserable than I am now." %x 
 
 " But it would be so ?" persisted Floret, 
 
 " Ifc would," returned the Countess. 
 
 " Then do not sacrifice your rank and fame 
 for me, I implore you," she urged, with an 
 earnest anxiety, that could not be mi&iuter- 
 preted. 
 
 The Countesa regarded her steadfastly. 
 
 " You ai-e a strange girl, Floret," sbe ex- 
 claimed. "Up to the present moment, you 
 have evinced the most passionate desire to be 
 acknowledged as the lawful daughter of the 
 Marchioness and the Earl, and now you entreat 
 me not to take the steps which are necessary 
 to accomplish that wish." 
 
 "Understand me, Lady Brackleigh," ob- 
 served Floret, in reply. " I am most anxious 
 I have no words to describe how anxious I 
 am to be acknowledged by those who are 
 my parents. But now that I can comprehend 
 in what position that acknowledgment would 
 not only place the innocent but the guilty, I 
 shrink from requiring more from the Mar- 
 chioness of Westchester than an admission, 
 made to me personally and in private, that 
 she is the Constance 'Neville named in the 
 register which I have in my possession, that 
 the Lennox Bertram there mentioned is now 
 Earl of Brackleigh, and that I am their 
 child." 
 
 " Would you be content now, Floret, after 
 what has passed a few minutes back between 
 yourself and Lord Victor, to let the world be- 
 lieve you to be a creature without a pedigree," 
 asked the Countess, sharply. 
 
 Floret red&enly deeply. 
 
 "I am deeply grateful to the Marquis of 
 Broadlands for the honor he has proposed to 
 confer upon me," she returned, in a low 
 voice ; " but he has generously permitted me 
 to choose my own time for a reply to that 
 proposition, and I think it would be both un- 
 gracious and unjust to him, if I were for an 
 instant to withhold the expression of my de- 
 termination to be governed by the result of a 
 last appeal to the Marchioness." 
 
 " What if it should succeed ?" suggested the 
 Countess, rapidly. 
 
 " I should force myself to be content with 
 any arrangement she might propose," she re- 
 plied. 
 
 " What are your suppositions respecting that 
 arrangement ?" inquired the Countess. " You 
 have, no doubt, already considered the form it 
 would take." 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 175 
 
 " I have," retarned Floret, with some em- 
 barrassment. " I believe that it is out of the 
 power of the Marchioness to openly and pub- 
 licly acknowledge me without destroj ing her- 
 self, greatly injuring the Earl, and ruining 
 your ladyship's present position ; while my 
 own position, were I to enter society, would be 
 most trying and painful to me. I should be 
 the target for every eye ; the butt for every 
 sneering, scornful, insulting gibe or compas- 
 sionate tauut. A public acknowledgment 
 would thus ciily injure those whcm I would 
 not for the world harm, while it would win no 
 credit for myself. I know that justice should 
 bo inexorable, that einfulness should be open- 
 ly exposed and publicly punished ; but I am 
 human, and I cannot arm the law to strike 
 down from theii places in society those whom 
 the ties of Nature, the mere instincts of hu- 
 manity, teach me to look up to with filial ten- 
 derness, and to preserve from danger whenever 
 the power to do eo is intrusted to me." 
 fc "What," again interposed the Countess, 
 " can you think, and feel, and would you act 
 thus, after the cruel sufferings you have en- 
 dured, and the terrible temptations to which 
 you have been exposed by the very person 
 who should have nurtured you and cherished 
 you as the rarest, dearest, and meet delicate 
 gift which Heaven had presented to her ?" 
 I " O Lady Brackleigh," replied Floret, com- 
 pressing her hands, " if she outlooks upon me 
 tenderly, speaks to me gently, and owns that 
 1 am her own beloved child, although she 
 dare iiot acknowledge so much to the world, I 
 can wittingly nay, with joy, forgive all the 
 niiaeries I Lave experienced through being 
 discarded by her. Besides, Lady Brackleigh, 
 the law of retaliation is, you know, not a law 
 based upon reason or justice. The fact that 
 niy parent has from my infancy disowned me, 
 gives me no right to attempt to effect her de- 
 struction." 
 
 ' "Floret!" again interrupted the Countess, 
 impatiently, and somewhat angrily, " you are 
 teasoning childishly. "What, Indeed, should 
 you know of the demands of society, or what 
 the laws of social morality exact ? How can 
 you attempt to reason for Lady Westchester, 
 or think for me ? Do you imagine that your 
 gentle tenderness, your susceptible sympa- 
 thies, or the generous tendencies of your for- 
 giving nature, can arrest the progress of the 
 great machine of retribution, which is rolling 
 on to its destination? You have passed 
 through a life a young life it is true sur- 
 rounded by pitfalls, snares, and evils of a kind 
 too horrible to think of calmly, without sin, 
 with purity of feeling, and integrity of pur- 
 pose ; but to the pure all things are pure, and 
 though you have witnessed some of the worst 
 phases of life, and have undergone some of 
 its hardest teachings, you have yet much to 
 learn. You are but old enough as yet to rea- 
 son by feeling I do so by experience. You 
 must leave to me, as one of the individuals 
 most deeply affeoted by your acknowledg- . 
 ment, the control of the plans by which your 
 
 birth and parentage shall l-e made known, ia 
 a manner which shall not leave to the invidi- 
 ous a single eneer. You exhibit far more filial 
 tenderness than your unnatural mother could 
 possibly hope to expect from you, and for 
 which she entertains neither sympathy nor re- 
 spect. I entertain both, and although I con- 
 fess to have been at first animated by the 
 most vindictive feelings against the Marchion- 
 ess of Westchester, and stimulated by feelings 
 of revenge to drag her down from the false 
 elevation upon which she so unjustly stands, 
 I ohall henceforward, in consideration of ycur 
 feelirgs, your interests, and your future posi- 
 tion in life, act in such a manner as to shield 
 you from contumelious opinions, while I firm- 
 ly establish your rights. 
 
 Floret, although she felt a strong disinclina- 
 tion to surrender to Lady Brackleigh the en- 
 tire management of her case, perceived that 
 she had no real ground for offering any oppc* 
 sition to her claim to its control ; but she in- 
 wardly resolved to interfere if she saw that 
 the Countess, in spite of what she had ad- 
 vanced, really sought the social destruction 
 of her mother. 
 
 The Countess then, with a calmness which 
 was perhaps the result of a full knowledge of 
 the wrongs she hed suffered, and the position 
 in which she stood, reviewed all the circum- 
 stances connected with the firet connection 
 between the Marchioness and Bertram, the 
 subsequent second marriages of the pair, andt 
 the evidence existing upon it, and arrived still 
 at the same conclusion as before, that the link 
 which would complete the full chain of evi- 
 dence to establish the birth of Floret was Fan- 
 ny Shelley. 
 
 It was necessary that she should remember 
 all that had transpired while she was living 
 with Constance Plantagenet, prior to the clan- 
 destine marriage, and subsequent to it, even 
 up to the moment of quitting her with the 
 child. 
 
 The Countess expressed a very strong wish 
 to see and examine Fanny ; but Floret sug- 
 gested that it would be better for herself to 
 visit her constantly during the recovery of her 
 strength, so that, es she grew accustomed to 
 the sight of her, she might be able gradually 
 to lead her into the knowledge of who she 
 really was that she was the child of her fos- 
 ter-sister, and not the foster-sister herself. 
 
 The Countesa acknowledged the prudenc* 
 of this suggestion, and declared her readiness 
 to conform to it ; but she endeavored at the / 
 same time to extort from Floret a promise tec ' 
 take up her abode with her at Brackleigh Man- 
 sion, not only until she was acknowledged as- 
 the daughter of the Earl, but until she be- 
 eaine a marchioness herself. 
 
 Floret objected, with blushing cheeks, but 
 scarcely with the vehemence with which Lord 
 Victor opposed the arrangement, and he sue* 
 cessfully argued the Countess out of the propo- 
 sition, although he consented to 911 arrange- 
 ment that Floret should visit her occasional- 
 ly, at periods when he and his cousin, Lady 
 
176 
 
 nAGAR LOT ; 
 
 , should J5 present The Countess then 
 red tnat ehe would be purse-bearer to 
 Floret, and insisted that ehe should fcupply 
 her with the means of living until she became 
 possessed by her inoiaputaole right to prop- 
 erty of heroin. 
 
 This prefer, however, Floret gently, but 
 firmly refused. 
 
 I m iat be independent of all the world," 
 ehe exclaimed. " I have the skill to labor, 
 and the strength, and will do it ( and I will 
 euppcrfc myself by the labor of my hands un- 
 til 1 eecure that income which, as your lady- 
 ship asserts, will be mine by right." 
 
 44 Floret, this cannot be," exclaimed Lord 
 Victor, gravaly. " There is now no doubt of 
 your o-'igin, end your right ia as clear, though 
 not yet-established, as it will ever be. As the 
 daugnter of an earl, it will not become you to 
 work like" 
 
 "SUy, my lord I" interrupted Floret, with 
 a fluab. upon her cheek, a gutter in her eye, 
 and a sudden assumption of a proud and dig- 
 nified manner. " Independence of spirit and 
 integrity of purpoto command an elevation of 
 position which no mere personal title can give. 
 The poorest woik-girl breathing, who parts 
 with a modiaum of her life every one of those 
 loot?* Ion.? days and weary nights in which she 
 works, may claim to be prouder of her posi- 
 tion than any pensioner who subsists upon 
 bounty, to which, she fancies she is entitled 
 besau^e she is by birth a gentlewoman. I 
 epak not of the helple*e, but of the indolent. 
 The bread won by individual exertion is sweet, 
 because a full equivalent haa been given for 
 it alas ! how very much more ia constantly 
 exae^d! but that which is doled out to the 
 dependent can only be swallowed with a sense 
 of me*noe*s and humility, from the visidnga 
 of which I hope ever to be spared. Lord 
 Victor, there is nothing shameful nay, there 
 is nothing nobler than honest labor. If it 
 should i base Htaven to place me in the posi- 
 tion to which my birth entitles me, I shall 
 r ever feel so proud of it as I did when I re- 
 tived the first pajment for labor done be- 
 B*-atb, ttrs roof, or for the few shillings which 
 were ptid to n.e, after toiling from dawn until 
 lopg p-.r, midnight, in my recent squalid home. 
 To.ir itttk my Lord, is an easy one; if you 
 obj-ct to hold communion with one whose 
 giearept demerit is that she ia poor, you can 
 6 i' ief y > our inclination by mixing only in a 
 wealthier and more congenial society. I am 
 too proud to be dependent lam f*r too proud 
 to receive i>elp w ben I can help myself, and, 
 b?ond tbis, I am too proud of what I h*ve 
 dune, tver to look back upon the period when 
 I w <ti an embroiderers, or a poor artificial 
 flornr., with any other emotion than self-grat- 
 U'utioo; aod, let me add, I shall never hold 
 any fueling in common with those who nourish 
 for u e H B of humiliation at the recollec- 
 tioa that I was once a work-girl." 
 
 F ortc opoke with much animation and 
 WM oath ; Lord Victor evidently felt stung by 
 htr rtJiLurks, and he eaid, hastily : 
 
 " Floret, forgive me. You are right I was 
 wrong. I was anxious to save you from a toil 
 whieh is unnecessary ; but as a matter of feel* 
 ing it ia better that you should preserve your 
 independence. I am quite aware that you 
 could not properly accept pecuniary assist- 
 ance irom me, and Lady Brackleigh will cam- 
 prehend with a proper spirit, I am sure, why 
 you decline it from her. We will, therefore, 
 pass over that subject, and proceed to some 
 pleasanter topic." 
 
 But at this moment Ida entered the room, 
 full of healthful spirits, which she endeavored, 
 with a very weak result, to keep under con- 
 trol. She said that, wkile out with Mrs. Spen- 
 cer on business, they had, by the strangest ac- 
 cident, met with the Honorable II} de Vaugh- 
 an, who had no sooner heard tJat Floret had 
 returned home, than he expressed his great 
 6at.it- faction at the circumstance, especially ai 
 he said that he had some questions of the very 
 greatest importance to put to her. 
 
 "But," continued Ida, rattling on without 
 thought, " when I asked him what they were, 
 and v* better I should put them to you for kirn, 
 he said, No ; that he could only ask them o< 
 you himself, and eo he said he would re tun 
 here with us, but Mrs. Spencer told him w 
 were going shopping, and he said he would 
 go shopping, too ; and to he did, and and 
 as he declared that the conversation of a 
 child was only at times interesting, and that 
 the remarks of elderly ladies were, if ecifyingi 
 not without a suspicion of proeicees, he eug- 
 gested that Mrs. Spencer end little Meal* 
 should walk together, because the ideas oi 
 childhood and eld age approach each other^ 
 and that he and I" 
 
 She paused abruptly, not alone because eh 
 perceived a curious smile upon Floret's face, 
 but because Lord Victor's laugh was audiblev 
 
 Neck and face became inetantly crimson, 
 and she looked hastily from one to the other, 
 as if she were conscious that she had commit- 
 ted seme fault, although she did not exactly 
 know what it was. 
 
 " Why do you pause ?" inquired Floret, a 
 little archly. 
 
 " I don't know," responded Ida, still gazing 
 inquiringly at Lord Victor. 
 
 44 You were about to say that Vaughan sug- 
 gested that he should walk with YOU r ecau&d 
 your ideas would approach each, other." 
 
 "Ye es," replied Ida, with confusion^ 
 " But," she added, hastily, " Mr. Vaughan ia 
 below : I will request him to come op." 
 
 Before any objec ion could be tendered, she 
 flew out of the room, more to hide her burn- 
 ing checks than to fulfill the mission she had 
 undertaken, for she intrusted it to Mrs Spen- 
 cer, and retreated to that good lady's bed- 
 chamber. 
 
 Hyde Vaughan entered the room immedi- 
 ately after Mrs. Spencer had communicated 
 with him ; and, while offering his congratula- 
 tions to Floret, he oast his ejes about to see 
 where Ida had placed herself, but she was not 
 visible, and a question respecting her elicited 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 177 
 
 from Victor the information that she had 
 quitted the room in search of him. 
 
 " A very remarkable circumstance has oc- 
 curred," said Hyde Vaughan, as closing the 
 room door, he placed bis back against it ; 
 " and it has immediate reference to Miss Ida. 
 She always/ refuses me I er surname," he ad- 
 ded, parejftheticalJy, looking fixedly at Floret. 
 ' Perhaps, Miss Floret, you will supply it to 
 me?" 
 
 Floret felt the color rise in her cheeks, 
 for at the moment she was in the same condi- 
 tion. 
 
 " I cannot," she said, faintly. 
 
 " But you were at school together ?" he sug- 
 gested. 
 
 " Yes ; for three years," responded Floret ; 
 " but the young ladies there were only known 
 by their Christian names." 
 
 " No other ?" he inquired. 
 
 " By no other " she answered. 
 
 "How very odd!" he remarked. Then he 
 added, hastily, as he observed Floret's height- 
 ened color : " Perhaps, however, that fact may 
 tend to confirm an impression that I have 
 formed, and which may have great as well as 
 singular results. Having taken a a consid- 
 erable a great a personal interest in Miss 
 Ida 'Ptihawldo no"; grin at me, Victor, in 
 that self-satisfied fashion, you will put me out," 
 he added, a little pettishly, as he observed 
 Lord Victor smile. " I I say I where was 
 I 0! circumstances of a very remarkable 
 character having introduced me to you and to 
 Hies Ida, and events equally strange having 
 parted and rejoined us, I confess I have felt a 
 deep interest in the future prospects of you 
 both-" 
 
 "Especially of Miss Ida," suggested Lord 
 Victor, pointedly. 
 
 " Very well yes," rejoined Hyde Vaughan. 
 "But, hang it, Victor, don't jest on this sub- 
 ject, for it is very serious, I assure you. Well, 
 I have been lately thrown well, Victor, have 
 thrown mj self lately much in the way of Miss 
 Ida, if you like that better." 
 
 " It was so much nearer the truth,' 1 quietly 
 remarked Lord Victor. 
 
 "Very well," continued Vaughan, "and 
 having thrown myself in the way of Miss Ida, 
 znany conversations have ensued between us, 
 during one of which she informed me that she 
 was placed at a school, bearing the curious 
 title of Utfglebarnby House, at Uggiebarnby, 
 in Yorkshire. Now it so happened that, as I 
 felt personally interested in the future of Misa 
 Ida, I considered it my duty to interest my 
 mother and sister in it also. I gave them a 
 brief sketch of her history, and named the 
 i place in which ehe had been reared and edu 
 joated. Since that revelation a very remark 
 able event has happened which I cannot at 
 present reveal, but which you shall all be 
 made acquainted with, if success should at- 
 tend certain inquiries I have undertaken to 
 make, both of j ou, Miss Floret, and of others. 
 Will you tell me whether Miss Ida was at Ug- 
 ulebarnby House when you were placed 
 
 there?" 
 
 " She was," answered Floret. 
 
 " And had been there long ?'' he inquired. 
 
 "From her childhood, I believe,' he re- 
 plied. 
 
 "She did not quit the house to visit any 
 relatives or friends while you were there* did 
 she?" 
 
 " O, no," replied Floret, promptly. 
 
 "You are quite sure of this?" pursued 
 Vaufthan. 
 
 ' Quite sure," returned Floret. 
 
 " What was the name of the person who 
 kept the school?" he asked. 
 
 " Biixenfin*k," replied Floret; "they 
 were sisters the Misses Ate and Sycorax 
 Blixenfinik." 
 
 Hyde Vaughan referred to a card. 
 
 " That is the name," he said, and added : 
 " And Ida quitted that place with you some 
 few months since ?'' 
 
 " She did. We were on our way to Lon- 
 don, when you, Sir, in company with Lord 
 Victor, made an effort to rescue us," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " It must be the same," he mused. Then 
 he continued : " Do you know anything more 
 of her history than what is comprised in the 
 uimple fact of your having been at school to- 
 gether?" j 
 
 " I do not," replied Floret. 
 
 " Did the Misses Blixenfinik at any time, in 
 speaking of her to you, by any chance men- 
 tion any of her relatives or friends If" he in- 
 terrogated. 
 
 " Never," replied Floret. " It was not their 
 cufctom to name, under any circumstances, 
 any matter which had reference to the private 
 relations of any of us. It was deemed enough 
 for us that we were thrown together, and had 
 each a name to distinguish us from the herd. 
 As I, too, am personally interested in the fa- 
 ture of Ida," she added, gravely, "I regard 
 myself as her sincere, perhaps her only friend. 
 May I inquire your object in putting these 
 questions to me ?" 
 
 " You certainly are not Ida's only friend, 
 Miss Floret," exclaimed Hyde Vaughan, a lit- 
 tle briskly ; " and what's more, not only her 
 sin cere friend. However, you are her dear 
 that is, one of her dearest friends and yon 
 are certainly entitled to put that question to 
 me. Facts are stranger than fiction, and curi- 
 ously, as I have been introduced to Ida, it ia 
 yet more curious that I should be the means oi 
 discovering her parentage." 
 
 "Indeed!" cried Floret and Victor to- 
 gether. 
 
 "That is," he subjoined, checking himself, 
 " I fully expect that I shall be. I may men- 
 tion that my mother has a relative, who for 
 many years has been the inmate of a lunatic 
 asylum, where she was barbarously placed by 
 an officer in the Array, who had married her 
 secretly and afterward deserted her. His 
 cruelty and desertion deprived her of her rea- 
 son, and it eould never be ascertained whom 
 he had married, nor where she had placed her 
 
178 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 child, of^whom she constantly rayed. About 
 three years since, she had a lucid interval of 
 about a month, but was then so depressed and 
 pensive she would scarcely speak a word. 
 She, however, one day, asked for a Bum of 
 money, which she placed in a parcel, and went 
 out with it alone. As she was then quite sen- 
 sible, no one, at her request, accompanied her ; 
 and when she returned, she fell into such a 
 series of fits of weeping, increaaing in hysteri- 
 cal violence, that her malady unhappily re- 
 turned, and she was again placed under the 
 charge of able attendants in a private asylum. 
 After she was conveyed away, a letter arrived 
 for her from Ugglebarnby, Yorkshire. It was 
 opened ; it proved to be a receipt for the iden- 
 tical sum for which she had asked, which was 
 given to her, and of which it was known she 
 had disposed. It was an advance for the 
 board and education of Miss Ida, and it was 
 signed, A. and S. Blixenfinik.' " 
 i " It could have been for no other Ida I" ex- 
 claimed Floret, qnickly ; " she was the only 
 young lady who bore that Christian name at 
 the school, and I well remember the arrival of 
 the remittance of which you speak ; for in the 
 interval between the expiration of the sum pre- 
 viously paid, end that which was received soon 
 after I was placed there, she was very nearly 
 starved to death." 
 
 A shudder passed through the frames of 
 those present save Floret's. She smiled 
 faintly, and added : 
 
 " Indeed, it was only long practice in absti- 
 nence ft om food which sustained her. Just be- 
 fore we made our escape together, I believe 
 that both of us could have gone without food 
 without any unusual inconvenience for two, or 
 even three days. Lengthened intervals, and 
 infinitesimal doses of provision, gave to us the 
 'power of enduring very long fasts." 
 
 Lord Victor and Hyde Vaughan simulta- 
 neously grated their teeth together, and the 
 latter vowed that he would not rest until he 
 had broken up the accursed school for living 
 skeletons. 
 
 " I was sure," he resumed, " that I should 
 obtain the most certain clue from you ; and the 
 next thiag will be to trace out the rascally hus- 
 band who has behaved BO ill in this affair. My 
 mother has recently engaged the services of 
 the greatest authority in mental disorders, and 
 he gives her every reason to believe that her 
 cousin will recover her senses at no very dis- 
 tant period, and that the recovery will be per- 
 manent. Tliis will be a fortunate event, be- 
 cause recently a very handsome property has 
 accrued to her from an uncle on her father's 
 side, and that it will enable her to live not only 
 in very good style, but it will enable her to 
 bring to book, if he is worth the trouble and 
 the money, the scoundrel who behaved so ill 
 to her, I think it advisable, at present, not to 
 communicate to Ida what I have revealed to 
 you, until we have determined, beyond a doubt, 
 her maternal parentage. I do not suppose that 
 time will be far off ; but, in the meantime, I 
 &m anxious to introduce her to my mother and 
 
 sister, if she will consent to accompany f&e 
 home. Perhaps in the interview wnich will 
 ensue, something may be elicited from her 
 which will clear up any doubt that may re- 
 main. You ladies manage these little delicate 
 inquiries so much better than we men, that you 
 may possibly bring to a happy conclusion that 
 which I should, perhaps, spoil." 4 
 
 " I am afraid that Ida, unless she has some 
 inkling of the real object of the visit you wish 
 her to pay, will be too timid to comply with 
 your request," suggested Floret. " But I hear 
 her footstep on the stair. You can make the 
 proposal to her when she comes in." 
 
 "No no," Miss Floret, I beg of you," cried 
 Vaughan, with a singular embarrassment, " do 
 not leave it to me. I shall only make a stupid 
 mess of it. You know what I wish her to do, 
 and you know best how to propose it. You 
 will accompany her, I hope." 
 
 Before Floret could reply, Ida entered the 
 room. Somehow her eyes caught those of Hyde 
 Vaughan, and she blushed immediately. She 
 turned hastily to Floret, and affecting a laugh, 
 she said : 
 
 "Floret, there is a person below who 
 wishes to see you on the most particular busi- 
 ness, as everybody in the world seemingly 
 does." 
 
 " To see me ?" ejaculated Floret, with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 Lord Victor looked on anxiously. 
 
 " Yes," returned Ida. "Do you remember, 
 upon an occasion, a groom interfered to pre- 
 vent an awfully dirty- looking man behaving 
 rude to me?" 
 
 Floret remembered the incident in the cof- 
 fee-shop, and replied readily in the affirma- 
 tive. 
 
 " He says," continued Ida, " that his name 
 is Nathaniel Ferret, and he must see you ; but 
 he won't detain you a minute." 
 
 "Nathaniel Ferret," repeated the Countess, 
 quickly; "a groom?" 
 
 She turned to Victor and Hyde Vaughan, 
 and said, hurriedly : 
 
 " Oblige me by descending to some room 
 until this man is gone. Do not let him see you. 
 I believe that I know the object of his visit 
 Not a word, Victor, but go 1" 
 
 Both the friends, with evident reluctance, 
 quitted the room ; and as soon as their backs 
 turned, the Countess said, hastily, to Ida : 
 
 " Tell the fellow to come up here, but not a 
 word about my being here when you usher 
 him into this room. You can join Lord Vic- 
 tor and Vaughan, wherever they may be, un- 
 til the man has departed." 
 
 Ida did not quite approve of this brusque 
 order, but as she had no conception of the po- 
 sition in life to which she was actually entitled, 
 with as good a grace as she could muster, 
 and a cheerful smile on her beautiful face, ehe 
 descended to Mr. Nathaniel Ferret. 
 
 In the meantime, the Countess glided into 
 Floret's bed-chamber, in order that she might 
 hear every word that fell from Nat's lips ; and 
 she had hardly closed the door to upon her- 
 
OH, THE FATE OF THE TOOK GIRL. 
 
 479 
 
 self, when with a sly, slow, lurching gait, Nat 
 entred the room, and made a kind of half- 
 bow, half-scrape, and touched his hair upon 
 hia temple to Floret. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 " Dreadful post 
 Of observation ! darker every hour. 
 
 As Nat made his bow to Floret he started 
 with evident surprise, and, although it was 
 not in accordance with the rules of etiquette, a 
 low whistle escaped him. 
 
 He, however, recovered himself instantly, 
 and once again touched his temple with his 
 forefinger. 
 
 " I axes pardon, Miss," he said, in a very 
 subdued voice, and his most respectful smile, 
 " but it ain't just possible to look at you, and 
 not see that you're the werry spit o' the lady 
 as I've come to say a vord or two to you 
 about. You remember me, Miss, don't 
 you ?" 
 
 " I think I have seen you before," returned 
 Floret, with some slight hesitation. " It was 
 at a" 
 
 " Corfee crib, Miss, ag'in the ra'alvay tra- 
 xnenus. I was the parvjr who showed a gin- 
 ger-tufted moocher how to take 'is breakfast 
 on s pavement, as a revard for wexing an' 
 descouragin' a young lady-friend o' yourn. 
 I'm the party, Miss, as gav'd you a card 
 v'ereon was written, Natanel Ferret 'orse an' 
 groom, old Bond street. I'm Natanel For- 
 ret!" 
 
 " I remember the circumstances very clear- 
 ly," said Floret, " but" 
 
 " I axed you to write to me, but you havn't, 
 so I've cum'd to you, acos time's gettin' on," 
 he continued. " I've seen quite enough serv- 
 ice. My pimple's a sheddin' its coat, an' '11 
 soon become like a bladder o' lard. A pub- 
 lic-'ouse as I've 'ad my hi on for a werry long 
 per'od '11 soon be in the market, an' savin' 
 your presence, a little fair an' putty filly, as is 
 agoin' to run in double harness vith me a 
 werry well matched pair ve shall make, I 
 'spec's is werry anxious to make start on 
 it" 
 
 " You must excuse me," said Floret, with 
 an inquiring and bewildered lock at him. 
 " But I do not quite understand what I 
 can possibly have to do with your arrange- 
 ments." 
 
 ) " Ah I bnt I beg your pardon, Miss ; yon 
 have werry muca do with my arrange- 
 ments," he returned. "The public 'ouse 
 and the fair party can't be 'ad by your werry 
 respeckful an' 'urable eervjTkt to co-i.>acd 
 Nacanel Ferret, unless jo\i perwides the 
 means." 
 
 " The means !" repeated Floret, with aston- 
 ment. 
 
 " Yes, Miss, vich, translated into English, 
 means the brads," rejoined Nat, " or, vulgarly 
 speaking, the money." 
 
 '* The money," echoed Floret, more bewil- 
 dered than ever ; " I have no money ; and if I 
 
 had, I do not see what claim you have upon 
 it." 
 
 Yes, I 'are, Miss, ae I rill quickly show 
 you," returned Nat, with a knowing nod and 
 a confident wink of the eye. He saw, however, 
 that she regarded him with a haughty mien, 
 which, having often seen in people of high 
 birth, he pretty well comprehended he there- 
 fore added : " I vishes to be werry 'speckful 
 to you, Miss, and if I should get a foot over 
 the traces, pull me up short Miss, if you 
 please." 
 
 She made him no reply, but turned her head 
 away as if in disgust. 
 
 He observed the movement, and he quickly 
 brought her head round again by half-a-dozen 
 words. 
 
 *' Ven I vas a lad, I wur groom to the WI- 
 count Bertram," he said. 
 
 She turned her face instantly toward 
 him. He gave a significant smile, and pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 " The Wicount was a werry 'ansome gentle- 
 men, an' he was thought a good deal on by the 
 ladies, but more 'specially by a Miss Plantag- 
 genet, whose werry picter you are as she was 
 then. Veil, Miss, von night I wus in the Wi- 
 count's apartment a writin' a letter to my dear 
 old mother, poor soul ! ah, she's gone, Miss I 
 a havelanch elided off a dust-heap von morn- 
 ing as she wus werry busy below it a vorkin* 
 industriously for her daily bread, an' smother- 
 ed her but that ain't no then to you, so I'll go 
 on vith my story. Veil, Miss, the Wicount 
 orvays objected to my usin' his paper, an* 
 pens an' ink, an' vile I wus in the middle o* 
 my letter I 'eered his quick foot a dancin* 
 along the passage, an' afore I could think vot 
 I vos doin', I bolted into a closet vich vas in 
 the chamber, an' shut myself in, a 'opiri' that 
 the Wicount vould werry soon hook it ag'in, 
 he did not ; for afore he had seated hieself 
 down two ininnits, the room-door opens, and 
 there wus instantly much rustlin' o' eilk. 
 Vich, Miss, at that 'ere moment I found the 
 cupboard so 'ot I wus obliged to open the 
 door of nay apartment a little, to get a trifle o' 
 hair. Through that 'ere little crack I seed 
 Miss Plantaggenet looking as vite as a plaster 
 himage, and her eye flashing like that of a 
 thorough-bred colt wot's uneasy in its mind. 
 She sptke to him as if he'd greatly worrited 
 her, and eke called him a willin, which he said 
 he warn't, for he'd wooed her 'onnerable, an' 
 he'd married her." 
 
 " Married her!" echoed Floret, intensely in- 
 terested in his communication, couched though 
 it was in such execrable English. 
 
 She understood it perfectly, however. She 
 had Heard that species of idiomatic talk too 
 oiten not to be able to interpret it. 
 
 " Ay, married her, Mies," continued Nat. 
 
 " An' fis to prove his yords she perduced the 
 
 cettyfikit, vich she said as f he'd 'ad morn' a 
 
 'nuff of him, she wus quite willin' to burn', an' 
 
 j burn it she did, there an' then, though not un- 
 
 j til she'd read out all that was written on it, an' 
 
 I pinted out to the Wicount how the witnesses 0,3 
 
180 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 WUB all drowned, 'or dead, or gone sway to some 
 other part o' the world ; an' how, ai the secret 
 was their own, they could keep it, an' nobody 
 be none the wiser. An' she told 'im lie 
 might marry the daughter of a railway con- 
 tractor if he chose she did it all herself, every 
 bit on it" 
 
 A deep, heavy sigh, escaped the lips of 
 Floret. 
 
 " Yes," continued Nat, " the "Wicount took 
 Jt werry colly, even when she drew off her ved- 
 ding rings, an' scrunched 'em beneath the 'eel 
 of her boot. Jemima ! I thinks I see 'er 
 asow, as tossin' of 'er 'and in the hair, she de- 
 clin'd to be seed by him to her carriage, and 
 left him not a lock of her beautiful 'air but 
 a cuas " 
 
 ' No, no !" exclaimed Floret, faintly, shrink- 
 ing back from him. 
 
 41 Ah, but she did tho' !" persisted Nat. 
 "Not a cuss in wiolent langvidge ; but sez she, 
 'I leaves you vith nothin' but my cusa!' " 
 
 He suited the action to the word, with an air 
 which would have been ludicrous but for the 
 terrible reflections it conveyed, and Floret 
 covered her face with her hand. 
 
 Nat perceived this, and assuming a very 
 penitential manner, he said : 
 
 **I begs your parding, Mies ; but I sees I'm 
 distresBiu' on you, vich I don't visa to do. I 
 s' pose it's nateral, however, as I am speakin 
 o' your own father and mother but, then' 
 if is*, lor' bless you, it ain't nothin' particular 
 for two married parties to do a little friendly 
 cussm' at each other nows an' thens. Married 
 life ain't orvays endless f'licity. A 'usband 
 sometimes objects, an' a vife sometimes objects, 
 an* ven they both objects together, there's sure 
 to be a trjfle o' cussin' on von side or the other, 
 p'raps on both " 
 
 44 Yon are jrreatly distressing me !" suddenly 
 exclaimed Floret, sternly and impatiently. 
 " J request that you will at once come to the 
 object of your visit to me or retire." 
 
 Nat gazad at her for a mement, and then, 
 with a gesture of respect, said : 
 : " I am comin' to it, Miss, as fast as I can, 
 aa' I'm sure I von't distress you if I can 'elp 
 it. Now, I've got a copy o' that 'ere cettyfikit 
 of marriage, vich I vent to Brighton a'ter my- 
 self, an' paid the clerk for it. A good deal o' 
 trouble I've 'ad to keep it ; but here it is I" 
 I He produced from a pocket-book a folded 
 paper ; and as he opened it a hissing whisper 
 ran through the room, which sounded ia his 
 ears exactly like the word, rascal : 
 1 "Rascal!" 
 
 He looked sharply at Floret's face, but her 
 eyes were fastened upon the folded paper, and 
 her lips were compressed together : it wascer- 
 tainly not she who uttered the word. 
 ) He looked anxiously round the apartment, 
 and pointed to the door of the bedchamber. 
 j " All right, there ?" he said, suggestively. 
 
 Floret, however, gazed upon him so haughti- 
 ly, that he did not press his question. 
 
 " You eee, Miss, I have the copy of the cet- 
 tyfikit," ha proceeded ; " and I've got that 
 
 is, I know vere to lay my hands on 'em, an 
 that's the same to me as 'avin' 'em the bits 
 o' rings vith writin' engraved oa 'em, all 
 proofs o' the marriage. Now, Mis?, you see 
 that Miss Plantagenet is the Marchioness o* 
 Yestchester, because she's been an' gone and 
 married agin vile her fust husband's alive, and 
 the Wiscount is now the Earl o' Brackleigh, 
 an* he, too, 'as been an' gone an' married ag'in. 
 Now, neether o' them marriages are worth a 
 straw ; the fust is the only genevine von, and 
 you are the daughter o' that fust marriage, 
 vieh, ven I bin an' prov'd, vill make you a 
 lady o' title an' great vealth. Now, Mies, as 
 nobody can prove this 'ere but your 'umble 
 servant to co-mand, Natanel Ferret, to be 
 short an' to the pint, you must pay me werry 
 'ansomely to do it. 
 
 " You may be able to prove the marriage of 
 which you have spoken," responded Floret, 
 as he ceased, articulating her words with much 
 difficulty, " but how are you prepared to prove 
 that I am the daughter of the firat marriage, 
 as you express it?" 
 
 This was rather a poser for Nat, but he 
 coughed, amd hemmed, and moved about a 
 little uneasily, until he could catch an idea, 
 because he was quite aware that, though able 
 to prove the marriage, he was in no condition 
 to prove the birth of a child subsequently. 
 With rather a longer preliminary cou^h than 
 any of the preceding, he said : 
 
 " Vy, Miss, that's the werry easiest thing in 
 life. I knows the vay to go about it. Fust, 
 you eee, you're azackly like the Marchioness, 
 a-9 like as two peas in vom pod. An' then, 
 you see, Miss, that I'm vith the Earl o' Brack- 
 ieigh still. He can't afford to part vith me, 
 he can't : I knowa too much for : im. An' 
 then, Miss, that 'ere fair party as is to run in 
 double harness vith me ven ve carries on the 
 public- house business, is the vaitin'-maid o' 
 ihe Marchioness of Vestchester her confi- 
 dential maid, Miss. She vill tll me any thin', 
 she vill ; and' as soon as ever you vants to see 
 the Marchioness some fine evenin', ven she's a 
 takin' her valks in the garden, you tells me, I 
 tells Fane, Fane 'ints to the Marchioness a 
 valk in the garden vill do her good, she fan- 
 cies she's goin' to see the Earl o' Brackleigh, 
 she sez she vill take her advice, Fane tells me, 
 I tells you, you goes there for a valk, too, you 
 meets her, an' you sez to her 0, Jemima I" 
 
 Nat suddenly staggered back several paces 
 as he made the exclamation, and was about to 
 make a bolt to the door, when a loud, imperious 
 voice commanded him to stay, and he stood 
 still, like a cur that expects to be beaten. 
 
 The Countess of Brackleigh had entered 
 the room as he uttered the last observation, 
 and he caught sight of her in the very middle 
 of his exciting description of the manner in 
 which he should propose to prove to Floret 
 that she was the legitimate daughter of the 
 Marchioness of Westchester. 
 
 '' Give me the paper which you have atolen 
 from me," said the Countees, approaching him 
 cloetly. 
 
OB. THE FATE OF THE POOR GIEL 
 
 181 
 
 Nat looked at her beseechingly. 
 
 " I beg your parding, my Lady," he com- 
 menced. 
 
 " Give it me without a word," she inter- 
 rupted, sternly, "or take immediately the 
 consequences of your rascality." 
 
 He, with very genuine reluctance, tendered 
 the copy of the certificate to her. She almost 
 snatched it from him, and opened it to see 
 that he had not deceived her by substituting 
 another paper for it. As she was running her 
 eye over it, he said to her, in a frowning 
 tone: 
 
 ' I aI a persmnesyour ladyship over- 
 heard my little proposal to this young lady, 
 'ere." 
 
 ** Every word," replied the Countess, curtly, 
 
 "Then," he continued, in the same tone, 
 " your ladyship vill know " 
 
 "That you 'are acquainted with the Marchi- 
 oness's confidential woman, and can, through 
 her, make assignations between the Marchion- 
 ess and the Earl your master," exclaimed the 
 Countess, looking pale, and resembling, in 
 Nat's eyes, at least, one of the Fates. 
 
 " I did not go azactly to say that, my lady," 
 he responded, deprecatingly. 
 
 The Countess waved ker hand, with an 
 angry, impatient gesture : 
 
 " Silence I" she exclaimed. " It is for you 
 to listen and obey, not to speak. Now, mark 
 well what questions I shall put to you, and 
 answer them truhfully, or within half an hour 
 from this time you shall lie manacled in a 
 jail." 
 
 " Nat looked at her and trembled. He knew 
 yery well that if he attempted to thwart or 
 trick her now, that she would keep her word ; 
 and, unfortunately for him, she could keep her 
 word. 
 
 "Firstly," she said, after a minute's con- 
 sideration, " I wish to refer to that interview 
 which took place between the Viscount Ber- 
 tram and his then wife, while you were hidden 
 in the closet, and I call upon you to tax your 
 memory closely." 
 
 " It is so werry long ago, your ladyship," 
 he muttered, uneaeily. 
 
 " Not so long but that you could remember 
 well enough to repeat some of the words 
 which were used upon that occasion." 
 
 " Because they wua so werry itartling, he 
 suggested. 
 
 44 Silence !" she exclaimed, sternly, and then 
 looking at him fixedly, to his apparent un- 
 easiness, she said. " Did Mies Plantagenet men- 
 tion, when speaking of the witnesses to this 
 document, the name of Shelley ?" 
 
 "Shelley?" he echoed. 
 
 "No iteration!" ehe rejpined, quickly. 
 44 Did she speak of one Frances Shelley ?" 
 
 Nat put his thumbs into the armboles of 
 his waistcoat, and looked up at the ceiling and 
 then down at the floor, and went through sev- 
 eral small performances to denote that he was 
 probing his memory very severely. 
 
 41 Do you wish me to call in aid to quicken 
 your recollection?" added the Countess, ia a 
 
 low, determined tone, which made his flesh 
 crawl. "Frances Shelley was the foster-sis- 
 ter of the Marchioness ; did she speak of 
 her?" 
 
 44 Her foster-sister !" repeated Nat, as thongli 
 the mention of that nominal relationship had 
 brought a gleam of light to his powers of re- 
 membrance. 4 ' Of course, the Marchioness 
 I did, my Lady. Frances Shelley, to be sure she 
 did." 
 
 44 What did she say about her 'quick, it is 
 very dangerous for you to attempt to trifle 
 with me in my present mood," exclaimed the 
 Countess, tapping the floor with her foot. 
 
 44 She said, my Lady, if my mem'ry ain't at 
 fault, my Lady," replied Nat, slowly, " thai 
 Frances Shelley was her foster-sister." 
 
 44 Well!' ejaculated the Countess, shortly 
 and sharply. 
 
 41 She said, I think, that ehe was devoted to 
 her." 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 " An' I think she said as she knew she'd dk 
 for her." 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 " And that she was going away to Orstra- 
 leear, or to Columby, or some other place." 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 44 An' that she would never come back no 
 more." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 " I think she t aid summat, my Lady, about 
 its breaking her heart to stop away for ever, 
 but that she was sure she vould never come 
 back." 
 
 44 What more ?" 
 
 " Nothin' more, my Lady." 
 
 "Are you sure ?" 
 
 44 Upon my s word, my Lady!" he said, 
 with some emphasis, catching himself up from 
 the utterance of an oath. 
 
 The Countess turned to Floret and said : 
 
 44 Do you believe that the woman's devotion 
 to her foster-sister remains uncharged?" 
 
 " I do," replied Floret, unhesitatingly. 
 
 44 We shall have a more difficult task wi'i 
 her than I at first calculated upon," muttered 
 the Countess. " We must proceed cautiously. 
 There is one step, however, which shall b 
 taken." 
 
 She turned to Nat, and said, in an authori- 
 tative tone, to him : 
 
 " Retire to the door for a minute, bat do 
 not quit the room." 
 
 Then, addressing Floret, she said, in a low 
 tone : f 
 
 44 It is but just that you should have an in- 1 
 terview with your parents when they are to- 
 gether. You have seen each alone, and they 
 have denied you ; but I do not believe that 
 this refusal to acknowledge you is the result of ; 
 concerted action. If you were to appear be- 
 fore them at an unexpected moment, it is more 
 than probable that nature would triumph over 
 every personal or worldly consideration. If 
 they acknowledge you, it may have the effect 
 of changing our plans, and rendering unneces- 
 sary much that must be done if they persist 
 
: HAG AH LOT; 
 
 in disowning yon ; I ^vill forego much if thej 
 exhibit toward you A touch of common hu- 
 manity. Have you the courage to face 
 them?" 
 
 " What haye I to fear ?" asked Floret, earn- 
 estly. " My cause ia at least a good and a 
 just one. The injuries which have been 
 wrought have fallen upon me. It is I who 
 have to complain, not they. I will readily 
 make the attempt, for it is my most earnest 
 wish that they should both acknowledge me 
 to be their child, and, under the present un- 
 bappy circumstances, that they should do so 
 in secret." 
 
 "It shall be as you wish," rejoined the 
 Countess. "But," she thought, -'the Mar- 
 quis of Wastchester shall make one of the 
 party. Ibis but fair that he should attend 
 such a meeting." 
 
 She beckoned Nat, who had kept his eye 
 upon her, to her side. 
 
 j>. " Kemember," she said, " that you are my 
 slave. I have promised you a reward. You 
 shall have the woman of whom you have spo- 
 ken for a wife, and funds to purchase the house 
 for which you are longing ; but it must be af- 
 ter you have served me faithfully and truly. 
 3Jow, tell me, has the Marchioness given any 
 message, through her maid and you, to the 
 Earl?" 
 
 Nat looked upon the ground, he twisted his 
 h&i round, he smoothed his beaver with the 
 cuff of his ' coat, he moved his feet uneasily, 
 and coughed. 
 
 " Answer me !" she exclaimed, fiercely. 
 
 "The Hurl, will kill me, my Lady, if I 
 * blows' upon him," he said, huskily. 
 
 "Have yon thought of the consequences of 
 opposing me ?" she asked him, in a sharp, 
 pointed tone. 
 
 "I don't vish to do it," deprecated Nat; 
 but" 
 
 "What is the message?" she half shrieked, 
 with passionate vehemence. 
 
 " That the Marchionees vill be at the Count- 
 ess of Newmarket's reception to-morrow 
 night, alone. She will arrive there at elev- 
 ing, an' her carriage vill call for her at 
 twelve." 
 
 ' Enough," responded the Countess ; " you 
 may go. Deliver your message to the Earl ; 
 and, remember, not a word or a hint of what 
 has transpired here to-day, as you value 
 wife, house even your life 1 Go ! not a word !" 
 
 Nat bowed, and slunk out, steaming with 
 heat, and with worda bubbling upon his lips 
 which were not in any respect flattering to the 
 Countess. 
 
 As soon as he had disappeared, the Count- 
 ess caught Floret in her arms. 
 
 *'We will go to the reception, too," she 
 said, earnestly; "there they must listen to 
 jou ; they dare not thrust you from them ; 
 *nd they may they, no doubt, will quietly 
 but certainly receive you with the acknowl- 
 edgments you desire, and make arrangements 
 that the recognition shall be more ample at a 
 future meeting." 
 
 Floret trembled, but did rot reply. 
 
 While pressing her to her bosom, the 
 Countess decided to write to tbe Marquis of 
 Westchester, and request him to meet her at 
 the reception of the Countess of Ner/ market. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 " Such to his troubled soul their turn, 
 As the pale death bhip to the storm, 
 And such their omen dim and dread. 
 As shrieks aflU voices from the dead- 
 That pang, whose transitory force 
 Hovered 'iwixt horror acd remorse ; 
 That pang perchance his bosom prcss'd." 
 
 SCOW. 
 
 Poor Floret, in having consented to accom- 
 pany the Countess cf Brackleigh to the 
 Countess of Newmarket's reception, was com- 
 pelled to make a compromise with her spirit 
 of independence. 
 
 SLe very eoon made this discovery, and 
 made it, too, with a species of silent dismay. 
 The proceeds arising from the manufacture of 
 artificial flowers, and the gains accruing from 
 the better though far from adequately re- 
 munerated labor of embroidery and Berlin 
 wool-work, promised to go a very little way 
 toward the purchase and making of a dress 
 which would barely pass muster at such an as- 
 sembly as that which would gather at the 
 Countess of Newmarket's. 
 
 The Earl of Newmarket's hobby was racing ; 
 he had indubitably the largest and most val- 
 uable racing- stud in England, and, therefore, 
 in the world. His Countess prided herself oa 
 giving the most distinguished entertainments 
 to the very highest people, and the most bril- 
 liant parties to the largest number of guests 
 that could be drawn together under one root 
 She made it a feature, too, that the drees worn 
 upon such occasions should be of the gayest 
 and costliest kinds, and she herself set up a 
 livalry among the fair visitors in the produc- 
 tion of jewels worn as adornments to the per- 
 son. 
 
 The Countess of Brackleigh, acquainted 
 with thcee features in the entertainments of 
 the Countean of Newmarket, enlarged upon 
 them to Floret, who, with a sinking of the 
 heart well known to young ladies placed in a 
 similar predicament, rtfiected that ehe bad 
 "nothing to wear". Sne hastily submitted 
 her position to the Countess, and begged to 
 be permitted to recall her consent to accom- 
 pany her thither ; but the latter declined to 
 absolve her from her promise, and even ar- 
 gued her into an assent to allow her to pro- 
 vide her with her attire and jewels for the oc- 
 casion. 
 
 After some hesitation, Floret made a com- 
 promiee with her conscience by egreeing to 
 wear the same Jight blue dresa which ehe had 
 worn at Brackleigh House when she had her 
 first interview with the Earl, and any jewels 
 which the Countesa might think proper to lend 
 her. 
 
 With the arrangement that sho should send 
 her carriage on the nexi day, at four, lor 
 Floret, the Countess took her departure, too 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 183 
 
 ranch occupied with her thoughts to remember 
 Lord Victor and Hyde Vaughan, who were 
 awaiting her pleasure in an apartment below, 
 discussing the probability of Ida turning out 
 to be Hyde's half cousin. 
 
 Fmding that the Countess had quitted the 
 house without seeing them again, they imme- 
 diately went in search of their respective ina- 
 moratas ; but Ida, trembling, burning, blush- 
 ing, resolutely kept out of eight, and Floret 
 was too much excited by her previsions of the 
 ordeal she should have to go through on the 
 following evening to support an interview with 
 Lord Victor. Upon her intimating this to 
 him, he very considerately took his departure, 
 and made Hyde go with him. 
 
 But not until he had ascertained that Floret 
 would accompany the Countess of Brackleigh 
 to the Countess of Newmarket's on the follow- 
 ing evening. 
 
 He silently resolved to go there, too, al- 
 though, owing to his recent bereavements, he 
 would be obliged to pay his visit incognito. 
 This, be knew, could be easily managed. 
 
 The Countess, having secured Floret's con- 
 sent to wear the dress and jewels which she 
 ehould provide, did not hesitate as to the 
 course which she thought it best to pursue. 
 She, therefore, returned home at once, in- 
 structed her maid, Subtle, to make the dress 
 which Floret had worn into a parcel, and carry 
 it to her carriage, which she had ordered to 
 await her at the door. 
 
 As soon as it was placed there, she drove to 
 the first silk-mercer's in London, and having 
 selected one of the most exquieite and richest 
 fabrics that was ever produced by a eilk loom, 
 she proceeded with It to her dressmaker's, and 
 gave orders that it should be made up to re- 
 semble the drees she had brought with her as 
 a pattern, which was to be departed from only 
 wherever an alteration was required by the 
 difference of fashion. 
 
 As her dressmaker employed upward of 
 fifty young ladies, with no settled hours of la- 
 bor whenever there was a pressure of business, 
 the dress was readily promised to be ready by 
 four the next day, and at the hour named, It 
 was delivered for the Countess at Brackleigh 
 Mansion. 
 
 On her way home, the Countess paused at a 
 stationer's shop, which she saw was also a 
 post-office, and, alighting, she entered the 
 shop, and called for writing materials. 
 
 On being supplied with them, she wrote the 
 following note : 
 
 " If the Marquis of Westcbester has acy considera- 
 tion for his honor, and would preserve his coble name 
 untarnished, he will be present to-morrow evening at 
 the Countess of Newmarket's reception. The Mar- 
 chioness of Westchester has already made an engage- 
 ment to be there at eleven. Tiie Marquis should be 
 cautious and circumspect ; he must not reveal to any 
 one his intention of appearing at the reception." 
 
 She sealed this mysterious epistle, address- 
 ed it, marked it " strictly private", and placed 
 it in the letter-box herself, and then returned 
 home. 
 
 Aa ehe new seldom even saw the Earl of 
 
 Brackleigh, and when ehe did they did not 
 speak, she did not acquaint him with any of 
 her movements ; and he, so absorbed in mak- 
 ing secret arrangements for a flight from Eng- 
 land, which he hdd resolved should last so long 
 as the Countess lived, did not trouble himself 
 to ascertain what she did or whither she went. 
 She, however, did not lose eight of Ned Fer- 
 ret. She bet her maid, Subtle, upon him as a 
 spy a congenial task to her ; and as soon as 
 she knew that he had an interview with the 
 Earl, after her own with him in Floret's apart- \i 
 ments, she waylaid him, and learned from him . 
 that the Earl had received from him the Mar- - 
 chioness's message, and intended to keep the 
 appointment. 
 
 She, therefore, went on with her prepara- 
 tions. , 
 
 At the same time, the Marchioness of West' 
 cheater, who, notwithstanding her outrageous 
 menaces to the Marquis, had not the smallest 
 intention of in any respect fulfilling them, 
 was preparing also for the party at the Coun- 
 tess of Newmarket's palatial residence, and 
 had resolved on this particular occasion to 
 outvie her compeers in the splendor of her 
 dress, and in the value and matchless beauty 
 of her jewels. 
 
 By one of those remarkable coincidences 
 which sometimes occur in actual life, the silk- 
 mercer whom she patronized exhibited to her 
 precisely the same patterned fabric, of an ex- 
 actly similar material, texture, and hue from, 
 indeed, the same loom as that which the 
 Countess of Brackleigh had purchased for Flo- 
 ret. The mercer, fully believing the state- 
 ment of the manufacturer of whom it had been 
 purchased by his bnyer, declared!, i to be per- 
 fectly unique ; and with the impression that 
 she alone should appear in a crtsa of this hue 
 and pattern, she ordered it to be made up for 
 her. 
 
 She had been induced to select it because 
 the colors were snch as to suit her complexion. 
 The design was a peach-colored roee-leaf, 
 winding into graceful forms upon a pale blue 
 ground, which was shot with white, and form- 
 ed a combination of euch remarkable beauty, 
 that it was quite impossible that such a dress 
 upon an elegant woman could pass unnoticed: 
 
 The Marquis, who had received cards for 
 the reception, had tossed them aside, not in- 
 tending to be present. Indeed, after his late 
 fearful scene with the Marchioness, he had re- 
 solved not only not to go into society again, 
 but to prevent the Marchioness doing so, until 
 he had satisfied his terrible suspicions. If the 
 result of his investigations ehould render a 
 separation imperative, he determined to go 
 abroad, and live there the remainder of his 
 life. If, on the contrary which he found it 
 difficult to suppose she came out clear, he 
 purposed entering into some arrangement with 
 Her which should place them upon a mow 
 satisfactory footing. 
 
 He filr, and was ill. The exciting scene 
 with the Marchioness, which oould not be con- 
 ceuled from his servante, and her crowning 
 
184 
 
 HAGAE LOT 
 
 terrific insult respecting his origin, had har- 
 ried him into a fit, and he was no* Buffering 
 from its effects. The M&rcbioness he believed 
 to be still ill, and confined to ber chamber 
 to he was, in fact, informed by her maid, Fane 
 and, therefore, gayeties and receptions ap- 
 peared to him to be out of the question. 
 
 He was seated alone in his study, his medical 
 attendant having just quitted him, after im- 
 pressing upon him the necessity of avoiding 
 everything approaching excitement, when a 
 eery ant entered, and handed him upon a silver 
 ealver two letters. 
 
 The Marquis glanced at them, took them 
 and threw them upon the table upon which his 
 elbow was resting, and the servant quitted the 
 room. 
 
 He was weak, and felt faint, and therefore 
 not in a mood to read letters which, he pre- 
 sumed, could onlj have reference to business, 
 to which he was not in a disposition to attend, 
 or to solicit patronage or assistance which he 
 was in no frame of mind to grant. 
 
 Shortly afterward, while brooding with all 
 the sickening agony of a desperate jealousy, 
 his eye accidentally took notice of the fact that 
 both Idlers were marked " private and confi- 
 dential." 
 
 The tone of his thoughts made such an ad - 
 dition to each superscription painfully attrac- 
 tive to him; and he snatched, both up with 
 trembling fingers, and examined the respective 
 hanwriUinga. One was small, beautifully neat, 
 and evidently that of an educated lady : the 
 other w&s the short, vigorously-formed letters 
 which usually indicate a cool, determined, and 
 inflexible mind. 
 
 Ha turned them over and over, examined 
 the postmarks and the seals both were gum- 
 med envelopes, with the device of the flower 
 , " forget me-not" ; and at last, with a cold 
 numbness tingling his fingers, he opened as 
 the first the one which bore the handwriting of 
 the female. 
 
 It was the one which had been addressed 
 anonymously to him by the Countess of Brack- 
 leigh. He read the contents through in an 
 instant, and felt, as he did so, as though a shaft 
 of lightning had passed through hid brain and 
 slain him. 
 
 He sank back, cold, paralyzed, powerless, by 
 the allusion to the preservation of Lis honor, 
 and tbe appointment which had been made by 
 the Marchioness. A deadly faintness spread 
 itself over him, and he believed that he was 
 about to have a repetition of the former fit. 
 
 The violence, the rage, the torments of his 
 jealousy, however, lifted him out of his pros- 
 tration, and he paced the room under feelings 
 of intense excitement. Of course, < conjec- 
 tured the worst; he eurmised a thousand 
 things that would not happen, and a hundred 
 that could not. There is, perhaps, little differ- 
 ence in this respect between jealous men and 
 jealous women ; but, if there is, we incline to 
 the belief that women's brain being the mo&t 
 fertile and erratic in suoh matters, ehe conjures 
 up more^ exaggeration?, improbabilities, and 
 
 impossibilities, than her prototype of the op- 
 posite sex. 
 
 However, the Marquis's powers of invention 
 were sufficiently ample, and he coined a varie- 
 ty of incidents, in which the Marchioness 
 would play a principal part so derogatory to 
 his honor ea to almost drive him delirious. 
 
 While anathematizing her in terms the most 
 vituperative of which language is capable, his 
 eye caught a glimpse of the second letter, 
 marked also, " private and confidential". 
 
 He caught it up, wondering * bat new in- 
 fotmant that his honor was in danger had in- 
 dited this second epietle, and opened it. With 
 feelings of bitter dismay he read as follow* : 
 
 44 MY LORD : Youwill remember that wben 
 you were a Captain in the Guards, I was a Cor- 
 poral in your regiment, and acted as your reg- 
 imental servant. Yon cannot forget, also, that 
 I acted confidentially for you in various little 
 affairs of the heart. I had not a very scrupu- 
 lous conscience, or in all probability, I should 
 never hare forfeited an excellent position in 
 society, I should never have enlisted m the 
 regiment which was honored in having you for 
 its Captain, and I certainly should never have 
 been favoured with your entire confidence. I 
 mean that confidence which needs an agent 
 not particular with regard to the woik he un- 
 dertakes to do, and which is supposed to b 
 retained and not abused, so long aa certain 
 terms of agreement are performed and fulfilled 
 on both sides. 
 
 " Much that I did for you would come tin- 
 der the denomination of heartlees improprie- 
 ty eome would give it a harsher name ; but 
 I, who know women well, know, too, that 9 
 broken heart means only the interval between 
 the desertion of the old love and the netting 
 of the new. 
 
 l< With one exception, however, the whole 
 of those liasions are settled and done with. 
 They are only matters of memory, if even 
 that, because the law could not and cannot 
 touch them ; but the one exception is, unfor- 
 tunately for you, one that the law can reach. 
 
 " Read what follows attentively. 
 
 "You cannot fail to remember meeting at a 
 ball a young lady, who had just been brought 
 out by name, Ada Vian. You were much 
 attracted by her beauty, and you set me to 
 work to convey letters to her ; and when she 
 which she very soon did wrote to you, to be 
 her messenger likewise. 
 
 *' You tried very hard to induce her to elope 
 with you ; but, as nothing whatever *ould 
 pacify her scruples but the ceremony of mar- 
 riage, you gave me a sum of money, and 
 carte blanche instructions to carry out tbe af- 
 fair, so that, while it closely resembled the 
 real thing, it should be a mere fraud, which 
 could at any time be Bet aside. It waa an old 
 ruse, but a task not very eaey to manage euc- 
 cessfulJy. I set to work to do as you wished ; 
 but, as I, too, was obliged to employ a confi- 
 dant ID play one of the parts, I engaged a 
 brothel of mine, who was then a lawyer's 
 clerk, So act with me. He deceived me inosfc 
 
OR. THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 185 
 
 treacherously. He was- ha! ha ! a law- 
 yer's clerk, too! troubled with ecruples of 
 conscience, of which, by the way, he said 
 nothing to me, and he cajoled me to let him 
 manage the whole matter. You recollect how 
 well it was done ; you complimented me, and 
 paid me handsomely for accomplishing the 
 thing BO well. Ada Vian, after the cere- 
 mony, eloped with you, and lived with you not 
 only as your wife, but she was your wife. 
 
 ' Be attentive ! 
 
 41 You, at the time of which I am writing, 
 bad a truly aristocratic dislike to be bored 
 with details. It was enough for you that you 
 met, at the place and time appointed, the per- 
 sona whom you expected to meet ; t iat you 
 made certain responses you were calle4 upon 
 to make ; and that you went away with your 
 young, shrinking, blushing prize, whom you 
 believed you had completely tricked, and 
 should successfully ruin. 
 
 " My brother's scruples of conscience trot- 
 ted off with him the moment I had resigned 
 the arrangement of the plan into his hands to 
 a clergyman, to whom he made a clean breast 
 of the matter. This clergyman went at once 
 secretly to Ada Vian, and at a private inter- 
 view found that she had surrendered her 
 heart and her mind to you ; that she was bent 
 upon being married to you ; that if she were 
 not, it would break her heart; and tbat no 
 reasoning which he could advance influenced 
 her in the slightest degree to the contrary. He 
 came back to my brother, and acquainted him 
 with the result of his mission, and also that he, 
 as had been agreed upon previously between 
 them, had not informed Mies Ada Vian that 
 you purposed making her your mistress by a 
 trick. It was then arranged, in order to save 
 the girl from destruction, that the marriage- 
 ceremony should be legal and complete in all 
 respects. The banns were published at the 
 parish church in which you were both resid- 
 ing, a long three weeks, if you will recall the 
 period in which you were engaged writing let 
 ters to urge her to comply with your request 
 to give you her hand and fly with you. 
 You obtained her assent, and the marriage 
 took place at the email chapel-of-eaee, obtain- 
 ed, as you supposed, by bribery. You will 
 remember that the clergyman not only filled 
 up a printed form, which he handed to Miss 
 Ada, but he very emphatically and significant- 
 ly assured you that you were a married man. 
 You laughed pleasantly afterward, and said 
 1 how capitally the fellow had acted.' 
 
 ' I regret this epistle should prove so long, 
 but it is impossible to shorten it. You were, as 
 you perceive, lawfully and legally married to 
 Ada Vian." 
 
 The Marquis sank back in his chair and 
 gasped for breath. 
 
 He remembered every incident perfectly 
 well, and this was the first intimation that he 
 had received that the ceremony was not a mere 
 fiction a wicked and a cruel deception, which 
 at the time he had thought ' clever.' 
 
 Oiie consolatory reflection, however, came 
 
 to bis aid ; the woman cf whom his corre- 
 spondent was writing ^as dead ; eo, with, 
 knitted brow and eet teeth, he went on with 
 the perusal of the letter. It was continued 
 thuo ' 
 
 " You lived with your young wife contin- 
 uously for a very brief period. She wa? too 
 fond of you from the first, and you, therefore, 
 quickly began to tire of her. Then you framed 
 excuses to account for the long abeeences pass- 
 ed with others of her sex. You employed me 
 still as your agent to convey messages to her, 
 and to be the bearer of money, which, as I 
 was then in difficulties, I shared with her, 
 without her becoming a party to the arrange- 
 ment. She had a child"; then, in your anxiety 
 to be free, you offered me a handsome sum to 
 get rid of both. An opportunity was BOOB 
 found, for, thrown into a condition of ill- 
 health by harsh language, cruel letters, and an 
 absence scarcely short of desertion, she went 
 out of her mind. She was, the very moment 
 that we discovered her insanity, placed by us, 
 my Lord, in a lunatic asylum we both swore 
 strongly on that occasion, I fear Under &n 
 assumed name, the child was placed at nurse 
 in Yorkshire, and just at that time I saw an 
 opportunity of doing well in Australia. I 
 sought an interview with you, and told yon 
 tbat the young woman with whom you had 
 gone through a mock marriage, and whom 
 you had deserted, was dead. You believed 
 me, without taking the trouble to inquire 
 whether I had spoken the truth or not, and 
 presented me with a sum of money, as well as 
 procured my discharge from the Army. We 
 parted, as you supposed, for ever. Before I 
 wo?nt away, I visited your wife, who was not 
 dead, at the lunatic asylum ; and though she 
 was still insane, she recognized me, and asked 
 after you and the child. 1 wrote down the 
 address of those who had charge of the latter 
 on a piece of paper, and gave it to her. I 
 told her that if she mentioned where it was to 
 be found to any one, she would never be per- 
 mitted to see it again, and that enough money 
 had been paid for its support until it would be 
 a grown girl of twelve year* old. She seemed 
 to understand me, and concealed the paper. 
 I went away from the place with, I confess, a 
 very mean opinion of my manhood. Tha,t she 
 might not be left wholly helplees, I informed 
 her friends where she might bv\ found, but I 
 told them not a word about you. 
 
 4i l have returned home a beggar. I find 
 that you got married about a year after I left 
 England, and that, therefore, you are in an 
 awkward popition with respect to your eecond 
 marriage. Your wife is still living, and, per- 
 haps, your daughter also ; but I have not yet 
 been down to Yorkshire to ascertain whether 
 sheii or not. The clergyman who married 
 you is also living. My brother is now aa 
 eminent solicitor, still troubled with 12 con- 
 venient scruples, and if he knew that you were 
 the Captain "Wolverton who married Ad* 
 Vian, he would not rest until he eetfiblished 
 that marriage, and upset your pit-sent cue. I 
 
186 
 
 KAGAR LOT ; 
 
 have your secret. I believe I am the only 
 person who can betray you. What is your 
 secret worth ? You are now a rich Marquis 
 you had always very high expectations your 
 name and reputation muet Be clear to you. 
 Can you put a price on your secret ? Reflect. 
 I will be* at your house between eleven and 
 twelve to-morrow night. You dare not refuse 
 to see me. The name I shall give to your 
 porter will be, Captain Parrot, of. the Sydney 
 Mounted Rifles. 
 
 41 1 have the honor to be, my Lord, your 
 faithful, devoted, and humble servant, 
 
 " You KNOW WHO." 
 
 It would be difficult to decide which of the 
 two letters the Marquis'had thus received oc- 
 casioned him the most perturbation. 
 
 The first worked his jealous passions up to 
 a state of frenzy ; the second paralyzed him 
 with consternation. A dim sense that what 
 he had been suffering, and what he was likely 
 to suffer, had in it a spice of retribution for 
 what he had regarded as youthful follies that 
 is to say, that he was about thirty when he be- 
 lieved that, by a connsummate artifice, he 
 bad ruined, broken the heart, and de3troyed 
 the reason of Ada Yian, a girl of seventeen. 
 He, when he married Constance Plantagenet, 
 now the Marchionees of Westchester, gave up 
 his " flirtations", as he termed them, and ap- 
 plied himself to the maintain ance of his dig- 
 nity, and the unsullied integrity of his name. 
 Lie was startled when Constance had, at the 
 very outset of their married life, repulsed him ; 
 and he fell back on his pride, in the expecta- 
 tion that she would sacrifice her haughty coy- 
 ness y and woo him as he had been so often 
 wooed. She never did ; her conduct had al- 
 ways been based on a species of scorn for him, 
 and a curious disregard for his honor, which 
 she would probably injure the very moment 
 she felt disposed to rouse him, perhaps in 
 mere wantoness of spirit, to a pitch of mad- 
 ness. He forgot, all the while he was betray- . 
 ing his jealousy of her, and loading her with 
 the vilest suspicions, what his own conduct 
 had been. He thought only of the name of 
 Westchester, placed on a pinnacle of enow, 
 being smirched by this woman ; he did not 
 remember what he had himself done to dark- 
 en it. He had been a heartless libertine, and 
 he looked back upon his past with compla- 
 cency. He tried to find cut the past of Con- 
 stance, so that, if he found it not as spotless as 
 purity itself, he might denounce it in terms 
 which would have no limit in their harshness. 
 He had feared that she, his supposed wife, 
 could alone defame him ; he began to be af- 
 frighted now, not only that he should himself 
 destroy the fair reputation the name of West- 
 Chester yet bore, but that he should give to 
 the Marchioness the right to turn round upon 
 kirn, and crush him with indignant wrath at 
 being the victim of his deception, and with 
 her bitter, scornful, insulting taunts, one of 
 which yet rankled like a poisoned barb in his 
 heart. 
 , He paced the room literally beside himself 
 
 with agony and consteration. What was to 
 be done ? The man must be seen and silenced. 
 It was strange that he never, for a moment, 
 questioned the truth of the statements in the 
 letter. He remembered the device of the 
 mock wedding ; he believed, at the time, that 
 ii had been excellently acted ; he remembered 
 now, with a pang which was almost insupport- 
 able, that at the very moment that he was 
 going through what he supposed to be a sham 
 ceremony, he was struck by the thought that, 
 if that were a mockery, the real one was little 
 better. He recollected that he had been re- 
 proved by the disguised clergyman as he had 
 imagined him to be for not 'then making the 
 responses clearly, audibly, and correctly, and 
 that he had compelled him to do so. He re- 
 membered, with startling vividity, placing the 
 ring upon thefinger of Ada all all that had 
 passed, even to her throwing herself into his 
 arms, murmuring, "My dear, dear husband!" 
 and his own response of* My sweet wife 1" 
 
 He groaned in despair. Ay what was to 
 be done ? The girl was living, was his true 
 wife, and a lunatic ! The very idea filled him 
 with distraction ; for he loved not her, but 
 loved Constance with a mad passion, which 
 grew stronger with every rebuff from her, 
 and every jealous suspicion he received and 
 entertained of her. 
 
 He taxed his brain for some course to steer, 
 but his thoughts ran so wild he could not col- 
 lect them ; ne could not shape out a path. 
 He felt that he could not escape an interview 
 with the man who had assumed the name oi 
 Captain Parrott ; but what was likely to fol- 
 low it, he was unable to conjecture. To listen 
 to what he had to say, to receive his proposal 
 for the purchase of his secret perhaps at the 
 price of half his fortune were the only pal- 
 pable ideas which presented themselves, and 
 to this most unpleasant necessity he was con- 
 vinced he must bow. 
 
 He was about to give orders respecting the 
 reception of Captain Parrot, when a refer- 
 ence to his letter showed to him that he had 
 made his appointment for the precise time at 
 which the letter in the handwriting of a woman 
 assured him the Marchionees would be keep- 
 ing an assignation with some person at the 
 Countess of Newmarket's reception. 
 
 It was impossible to remain away from the 
 Countess's, although it was his intention to 
 proceed there alone, and, if possible, to enter 
 there unannounced. But what was he to do 
 with Captain Parrot during the time? He 
 snatched up the letter of the Countess of 
 Brftckleigh, and re-read it. The writer evi- 
 dently knew that a wrong to him was intend- 
 ed ; for she was particular in mentioning his 
 honor, the hour of appointment, and the ne- 
 cessity of not breathing a word of bis inten- 
 tion to join the Countess of Newmarket's 
 party. He rang his bell sharply, and on hia 
 valet entering, he said : 
 
 " Send Lady Westchester'a waiting-woman. 
 Fane, for me, I wish to give her a ifceaenge to 
 a aher mietreBB." 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 187 
 
 The valet disappeared, and, shortly after- 
 ward. Fane made her appearance, looking 
 prettier than ever and BO demure ! 
 
 She stood at a respectful distance, and the 
 Marquis eyed her face closely and eearchingly . 
 
 "This girl cannot be deceitful," he thought 
 
 He crumpled the Countess's letter iu his 
 hand, and said, in a somewhat bland tone : 
 
 " Come closer, Fane, I desire to speak with 
 you." 
 
 She looked at him with some surprise, and 
 a sudden flush rushed up into her cheek. She 
 drew closer to him slowly, until she stood be- 
 side his table. 
 
 *' You have served Lady Westchester for 
 Eome years," he said, in an undertone. 
 
 " Yes, my Lord," she replied, meekly. 
 
 " And faithfully, I have no doubt ?" he pur- 
 sued. 
 
 " I hope so, my Lord," she answered, hum- 
 bly. 
 
 " Lady Westchester has been kind to you ?" 
 he suggested, somewhat artfully. 
 
 " O, yes, my Lord, very kind," responded 
 Fane, quickly. 
 
 "And rewarded you liberally for serv- 
 ices which you have rendered to her ?" he con- 
 tinued. 
 
 " Her Ladyship has been very kind to me, 
 my Lord, and 1 hope I am very grateful to 
 her for it," responded Fane, as demurely as 
 before." 
 
 " And you are very devoted to her, I sup- 
 pose ?" he added, eyeing her face atten- 
 tively. 
 
 " Very, my Lord," she returned, calmly. 
 
 " And you would rather suffer death than 
 betray any one ot her secrets, I suppose?" he 
 said, with a sickly smile. 
 
 She raised her eyes to his. He saw that 
 they wore an expression of undisguised sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "My Lord !"' she ejaculated, interrogatively, 
 as though she did not hear aright. 
 
 He repeated his remark. 
 
 She shook her head and let her eyes fall 
 again. As they drooped, they rested upon the 
 open letter upon the table, and she saw, with 
 a feeling of curiosity and surprise, the signa- 
 ture appended : " You Know WHO !" 
 
 " My Lord," ehe returned, as though she 
 had not noticed that epistle, and it was not 
 running in her mind, "I was not aware that 
 my Lady had any secrets, and if she had, I am 
 quite sure that she would not intrust them to 
 a person so tumble as myself." 
 
 He looked at her, and rising up he paced the 
 *ocm, muttering with grating teeth : 
 
 " There is no difference in women, they are 
 all alike ; and if there ia one thing more than 
 another for which they have the least regard, 
 it is truth. This girl is, I am sure, deep in 
 Lady Westchester'e confidence, yet she affects 
 to know nothing but what such a servant 
 ehould know. 
 
 He tamed to Fane, who bad placed her back 
 to the letter, which was lying ou the top of 
 eorae koae papers, and said : 
 
 "How is the health of Lady Westches- 
 ter?" 
 
 " Improving, my Lord," replied Fane, look- 
 ing up at him under her eyebrows, somewhat 
 too archly for the relation in which she ttood 
 to him. 
 
 "Ah!" he answered, removing his eyes from 
 hera, quickly. " I am plea I am glad ah 
 that is well. Has your Ladyship taken an 
 airing to-day ?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lord," she replied, in a simple 
 tone. 
 
 "She has?" inquired the Marquis, brusque- 
 ly, " when ? what for ?" 
 
 " Only for an hour or two, my Lord," re- 
 turned Fane, as if slightly frightened ; " her 
 Ladyship went, I think, only to her milliner's, 
 my Lord." 
 
 "That answer was a very unsatisfactory t>ne, 
 for it confirmed his suspicions respecting her 
 intended appointment at the Countess of New- 
 market's, on the following night. 
 
 'Does Lady Westchester go out to-mor- 
 row ?" he asked. 
 
 " I do not know," my Lord," she replied. 
 
 " Are you fcure ?" he asked. 
 
 " Quite, my Lord," she returned. 
 
 " You would know if she were going to to 
 a reception say?" he said, eyeing her earn- 
 estly. 
 
 She looked at him archly again, so that he 
 once more withdrew his eyes. 
 
 "O, yes, my Lord," she replied, in a very 
 ready tone. 
 
 "And you have heard nothing of any such 
 intention on the part of my Lady ?" 
 
 " I have not, my Lord," she replied prompt- 
 ly, and, it seemed, a little decisively. 
 
 At this moment the servant entered with 
 more letters, and the card of Lord Nihilalbum, 
 saving that he requested to see him. 
 
 " You may go," said the Marquis to Fane, 
 and, courtesy ing very low, she glided out oi 
 the room. 
 
 The letters which the Marquis had received 
 last were unimportant, and be turned them 
 aside, and proceeded to another room, in order 
 to see Lord Kihilalbum. 
 
 In the meantime, Fane returned to the Mar- 
 chioness, briefly related to her what had pass- 
 ed between her and the Marquis, spoke of the 
 letter signed, " You KNOW WHO" ; and when 
 the Marchioness expressed the greatest anxiety 
 to know its contents, Fane, to her amazement, 
 produced it and handed it to her. 
 
 The Marchioness perused it like one in a 
 stupor. Yet, with an extraordinary effort, she 
 seemed to keep herself collected. She drew 
 out a pocket-book, made extracts from it, and, 
 when she ended, she returned it to Fane. 
 
 " Replace it in the same spot from whence 
 you took it. It must not be knowrn that I have 
 seen it," she said, with hurried excitement. 
 
 Fane hastened back silently and swiftly with 
 it to the study. 
 
 While conversing with Lord Nihilalbuin, the 
 Marquis remembered that the letter from Cap- 
 tain Parrot was lying open upon a table in hia 
 
188 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 study. He abruptly quitted his lordship, and 
 hurried thither. 
 
 The rcotn was untenanted, and the letter 
 was lying where he had placed it. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 " In whose saloons, when the firs^ star 
 Of evening o'er the waters trembled, 
 The valley's loveliest all assembled ; 
 All the bright creatures that, like dreama 
 Glide through its foliage, and drink beams 
 Of beauty from Us founts and streams. 
 
 Maids from the West, with snnbright hair, 
 And from the Garden of the Nile, 
 
 Pelicate a tne roses there 
 JDaugh'ers of love from CN prua rocks, 
 With Faphian diamonds in their locka 
 Light Peri forms, such as there are 
 On the gold meads of Candahar ; 
 And they, before whose sleepy eyes, 
 
 la their own bright Cathayan bowers 
 Sparkle euch rainbow butterflies. 
 
 That they might fancy the rich flowers 
 That round them in the sun Jay sighing, 
 Had been by magic all sec flying ! 
 
 Everything youog, every thing fair, 
 Prom east and west is blushing there." 
 
 T. MOORS. 
 
 Floret, in spite of her efforts to appear 
 calm and collected, and at her ease, experienc- 
 ed mucli inward excitement during the morn- 
 ing of the day following the visit of the Coun- 
 tess of Brackleigh to her. She looked forward 
 to the evening's ordeal with a feeling ekin to 
 fear, which strengthened as the time approach- 
 ed. 
 
 She endeavored to sustain herself as the day 
 wore -on, by assuring herself that she had 
 nothing to apprehend ; and yet there were 
 silent appeals to her sense of dignity, and it 
 almost seemed of propriety, from a still, email 
 voice, which pressed upon her suggestions that 
 it would have been better not to have adopt- 
 ed the mode selected by the Countess for ap- 
 pearing before her parents at a moment when 
 they would b powerless to repulse her. Bet 
 ter for her own sake, and for theirs. 
 
 Indead, among the many foreshadowings of 
 what might that night occur, which would 
 force their way into ter mind, came the im- 
 pression that it would be precisely in such an 
 assemblage that the Marchioness tnd the Ear 
 not only could with impunity, but would, with 
 cold and dogged firmness, wholly ignore her ; 
 would treat her with frigid scorn, and, if ap- 
 pealed to, taunt her with being a cheat and an 
 impostor. 
 
 It was strange, perhaps, that this latter 
 reflection urged her to persevere with her pur- 
 pose; for, however susceptible she might be to 
 Kindness, her nature was not one to brook 
 scorn the very thought that she might be 
 treated with contumely by those who ought to 
 regard her with gratified pride, roused her to 
 resistance, impelled her to dare any heartless 
 attempt to crush her, and to retort upon it, by 
 a bold and persistent prosecution of her right. 
 
 It was certainly a long, painful, diaquieting 
 day to her. 
 
 To Ida it was one of flatter, of fever, of ex- 
 pectation, of the wildest conceptions, cf the 
 
 grandest imaginings, of the proudest hopes, 
 and of many email regets. 
 
 Had she been called upon to play Floret's 
 part, it is doubtful whether she would have 
 been in anything like the same state of excite- 
 ment ; bat she was so anxious that Floret 
 should turn out as grand a lac/ as she WAS 
 supremely beautiful ; she was so desirous that 
 she should be received and regarded by the 
 great, the lofty, and the noble, as a being su- 
 perior even to themselves ; she did so heartily 
 wish that every handsome young peer would 
 resign himself, heart, and'soul, and mind, to the 
 throes of an intense admiration the instant h$ 
 beheld Floret, and that the haughtiest and 
 highest-born maidens would bend before hex? 
 
 ness ; ehe did so hope that she would be weJ 
 corned with delight, would be honored, and 
 receive homage from all present, so that if by 
 chance her unknown parentsfor Ida kner 
 not who they were, or were supposed to be-, 
 should happen to be there, they would spring 
 forward with ecstasy, and claim with joy ana 
 happiness their long-lost child. 
 
 And her small regrets were comprised in her 
 fears that Floret would not be able to wear 
 those adornments which should enable her to 
 rival the richest and noblest dame present at 
 the reception. 
 
 There were so many little essentials required 
 to make up a perfect style cf drees, and they 
 were all so expensive, and BO much beyona 
 Floret's means, that she knew that ehe could 
 not have them ; and when she thought of the 
 sidelong glanco of disdain with which some 
 proud and rich young beauty would look upon, 
 any short-comings which might be palpable 
 in Floret's attire, from want of those means, 
 she sighed with vexation, and hated with all 
 her heart the imaginary proud and rich young 
 beauty of the sidelong glance. 
 
 O ! how flhe sighed for illimitable wealth, 
 that she might drees and adorn Floret as she 
 could wish to see her appear! and how she 
 sighed with vexation to think that wealth does 
 not come at a wish I 
 
 One thing she eet her heart upon, and that 
 was, to see Floret dressed. After long cogita- 
 tions, and speculations, and contrivances, she, 
 in a roundabout, rambling fashion, extracted 
 from Floret a description of the way toBrack- 
 leigb Mansion, and she expressed much dis- 
 appointment to learn that Floret was unac- 
 quainted with the situation of the Countess of 
 Newmarket's residence. 
 
 It was some little time before Floret could 
 elicit from her the object with which she pur- 
 sued her inquiries, but at last it came. 
 
 She had formed the intention of waiting at 
 the door of Braskleigh Mansion, that ehe 
 might eee Floret enter the carriage on her 
 way to the reception, and of then Jaurrjing to 
 the residence of the Countess of Newmarket, in 
 order that she might l>ehold her alight and enter 
 with her proud step and noble bearing a grand 
 house, which she was entitled bj her birth to 
 visii. 
 
OH, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIUI* 
 
 180 
 
 Floret was tench moved by this proof of ber 
 gi&ction BO artlessly expressed ; and she folded 
 hr aims about ber, and kiseing her fondly, 
 told ttr that she should go with her in the 
 carriage to the Countess of Brackleigh's ; that 
 she should belp her to dteas ; and that she 
 should rot only flee her depart, but remain 
 there asd see her return. Poor Ida was almost 
 delirious with delight by the arrangement. 
 
 At four o'clock precisely, the brougham of 
 the Countess of Braekleigh called for Floret 
 at Mrs. Spencer's. Both she and Ida were 
 ready dressed, awaiting its arrival, and they 
 immediately ..ctered it, and were conveyed di- 
 rect to the mansion, where, by the instructions 
 of the Countess, they were set dawn at a pn 
 ate intrance. 
 
 Subtle was in waiting to receive them, and 
 the Countess met them at the door of her 
 apartment. She was, at first, surprised at the 
 appearance of Ida ; but when she was made ac- 
 quainted with the cause, she smiled, and wel- 
 comed her kindly ; eo that she felt at .her ease, 
 and was able to admire, with wonder and pleas- 
 ure, tbe splendor of apartments surpassing in 
 magnificence any she had ever Been. 
 
 Tne dressing of "a woman for a grand party 
 must be a very formidable '.affair. We profess 
 to know nothing of the details nothing about 
 it, in fact saving that there have been occa- 
 eiona upon which we have commenced an elab- 
 orate adornment of our person about five hours 
 after the fair party who was to be our partner 
 for the nonce, and have ended, without the 
 possibility of adding another touch of improve- 
 ment, some two hours before she had complet- 
 ed her toilet, and then we were assured that the 
 sail fair party had attired herself with unex- 
 ampled rapidity. 
 
 Floret certainly did not prove an exception 
 to this woman's rule, and when the clock 
 etruck eleven her toilet was not quite finished. 
 
 The hairdresser had presented himself, ex- 
 celled himself, and departed. A second maid 
 of tbe couHtess's, the dressmaker, and Ida, had 
 all by turns, and sometimes together, exercised 
 their most consummate ekill, and their unique 
 experience, upon Floreo's adornment, and had 
 not completed their labor of love for such it 
 'must be to help to make more beautiful that 
 which is the most beautiful thing in nature a 
 young, lovely, innocent girl when the Coun- 
 tess, magnificently dressed, made her appear- 
 anoe, followed by Subtle bearing a series of 
 jewel-cases. 
 
 Ida half screamed when they were opened, 
 for there was a tiara, a necklet, brooches, and 
 all of diamonds ot'tbevery first water. 
 
 The Countess pointed to taem 
 
 *' You must wear these ornaments," she said 
 to Floret, with a suppressed sigh. " Tbey 
 were a wedding-gift from iny father to me, 
 and are valuable enough to serve as a dowry 
 for a duchess/' 
 
 Floret wore her beautiful b*\ir plain upon 
 the temples, and brought behind her ears, 
 where it was looped up in plaits exquismvel} 
 Arranged; the tiara of diamonds suited her 
 
 style of countenance perfectly, and gave to her 
 addition*! grace and majesty of appearance. 
 
 Tbe rest of the superb jewels fulfilled their 
 respeciive duties, and completed Fioret'8 ap- 
 perance, which, as the Counter declared, was 
 faultless. 
 
 Poor Ida pressed her hands together as she 
 gazed upon her with tears of joy. Sue was un- 
 able to utter a word; but ehe thought her 
 more transcendently lovely than she had ever 
 dreamed the fairest of her sex could be made 
 to appear. 
 
 Floret did, indeed, look beautiful ; she had 
 more than her mother s beauty, all her grace 
 of form, aed her peculiarly lofty beariaj?. Her 
 dreas fitted her to perfection, end seemed as 
 though human hands had never touched it. 
 Its fashion was such a* to set off hr figure to 
 advantage, while the extreme delicacy of its 
 colors, with their pureailyery tone, were espec- 
 iaJy adapted to harmonize with her clear, 
 snowy, transparent complexion. 
 
 And leading ber by t tie band, as though she 
 were a princess, the Countess descended with 
 her the grand staircase, and p-ietecl through 
 the hall, where the servants were arranged to 
 do them homage, and look on Fioret with eyes 
 of wonder and of approbation for they de- 
 cidedly approved of the appearance <of the 
 countess's "young potterdjay", which, by the 
 way, was their familiar mode of pronouncing 
 the word, protegee. 
 
 As they were whirled on in the Countess's 
 handsomest equipage, ehe informed Fioret that 
 she had, during the morning, paid a visit to the 
 Countess of Newmarket. 
 
 ** I was very anxious to see her on your ac- 
 count, Floret," she said ; " I had m'sch to say 
 that was impossible to put into a letter without 
 provoking unplepant surmises and more em- 
 barrassing questions. I, therefore, Bought an 
 interview WHO. her, to say to her eimply this : 
 * A young lady friend of mine, nobly- born, but 
 who has cot yet been brought out, resembles 
 in a very remarkable degree a lady of haul ton, 
 who will be one of your guests to- nig at. I 
 know you love a sensation ; the young lady 
 has a v ery striking appearance, and is sure 
 to command attention, and I wish that to every 
 inquiry respecting ber name the answer to be 
 returned shall be '!ACOQNITA'. Bytnatnarae 
 I wish her to be announced, by that came 
 alone I desire her to be known. Your ladyship 
 may rely on my word and my position that 
 the introduction is genuine and unexceptiona- 
 ble.' Those were, as nearly as I can remem- 
 ber, the words which I used; at ail events, it 
 was the substance of them. The Countess, as I 
 expected, entered with enthusiasm into my 
 views, and expressed her willingness to keep 
 up your incognito aa completely as her entire 
 ignorance of j our name and history will enable 
 her. You may, therefore, Floret, my dear 
 child, be quiie at ease, and free from all em- 
 barrassment. You will be regaroed as on the 
 level of all there, and will meet wuo. noihicgin. 
 the shape of a taunt, direct or implied. You 
 will eimply be the Unknown, and the family 
 
190 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 fciatory of every peer will be gone over to As- 
 certain to which of them you belong." 
 
 Floret felt too excited to answer. She bow- 
 ed, and bowed gratefully too ; for she felt how 
 great was the advantage the Countess had ob- 
 tained for her. 
 
 The carriage now fell abruptly into a line of 
 others, and walked slowly on for some distance. 
 Floret saw a diox throng effaces, which were 
 turned toward the carriage-window with eyes 
 of admiration, and her heart, although she 
 strove Jto suppress it, began to beat wildly. 
 
 And now the carriage stops ; the door is 
 swung open, and the steps are let down with a 
 crash, and the Countess was handed out. 
 Floret followed ; some one, she saw not whom, 
 assisted her. She heard a rapid, murmuring 
 buzz of admiration as she stepped lightly on 
 the crimson cloth which lined the covered way 
 from the carriage to the hall. It sprang sim- 
 ultaneously from the mouths of those who 
 thronged the pavement, and who caught a 
 glimpse of her as she alighted. It made her 
 elevate her head, and walk with a prouder 
 step. 
 
 At this very instant, she heard a whisper. 
 It was but a whisper, but it pierced her ear 
 like an arrow. 
 
 It said: 
 
 "THE POOR GIRL." 
 
 She turned her head instantly in the direc- 
 tion from whence the voice proceeded. 
 
 She beheld the face of Liper Leper, flis 
 brilliant black eyes were fastened upon her 
 with a gleam of admiration and delight. 
 
 She heard him ejaculate : 
 
 " God ii just I" 
 
 The next instant, her hand was seized by the 
 Countess, and she could only through her dim 
 eyes see throngs of faces and moving forms, 
 and her dulled ears could hear only a strange 
 chorus of voices, uttering cries of which she 
 could comprehend nothing. She smelt the 
 faint odor of exotics, and a sensation passed 
 over her frame which made her fear that she 
 should swoon away. 
 
 The Countess pressed herTiand sharply. 
 
 ''Courage, Floret," si*e whispered to her. 
 " Your face is as white as marble. You musb 
 exert yourself now. Kemember from whom 
 you sprang, and sustain the position to which 
 you were born. You are already observed." 
 
 These few words re-animated Floret, and she 
 drew herself up erect, but still everything ap- 
 peared a mere haze to her. 
 
 She entered a splendid saloon, in which was 
 seated the Countess of Newmarket, surround- 
 ed by a group of distinguished persons, re- 
 csiving her guests. 
 
 " The Countess of Brackleigh-- Incognita," 
 shouted a voice, announcing the former and 
 Floret. 
 
 Attracted by the peculiarity of Floret's 
 adopted name, every eye of the group was 
 turned upon her. 
 
 An exclamation of surprise burst from the 
 lips of all. 
 
 " Incognita " appeared to be not only the 
 
 most beautiful girl who, perhaps, had ever 
 entered that gorgeous saloon, but she wai 
 literally blazing with diamonds, which, in thd 
 estimation of those who beheld her, rendered 
 her position unequivocal. 
 
 The Countess raised her glass to her eye, 
 and glanced rapidly over Fleret's appearance. 
 She looked perfectly amazed. 
 
 She beckoned the Countess to her side in- 
 stantly. 
 
 " I am delighted to see you, Lady 'Brack- 
 leigh," she said. "I am equally proud and 
 delighted to receive your fair and lovely young 
 friend, Incognita. My beautiful child, accept 
 my congratulations. Your ensemble is a mer- 
 ve'lle. ^ Countess, you have rendered me a dis- 
 tinguished favor ; add to it another as great 
 by remaining with your fair charge by my 
 side for a short period." 
 
 " With pleasure," responded the Countess. 
 
 "Delicious!" ejaculated the Countess of 
 Newmarket, with one of her pleasantest 
 emiles. " My reception to-night will be the 
 white stone of the season." 
 
 Every eye of the group which surrounded 
 the Countess was fastened upon Floret, and 
 as this party was composed mostly of young 
 men of high birth who were curvetting 
 through this portion of their life, Floret's 
 beautiful face and figure were specially formed 
 to attract their undivided attention, while her 
 diamonds and her dress drew upon her the 
 notice of the dowagers, the young-old dames, 
 and the old-young maidens, while those who 
 more fairly resembled her could not help 
 calling the attention of their brothers or 
 friends to " that pretty creature". 
 
 The Countess of Newmarket was able by 
 experience, though still a young, fine, hand- 
 some woman, to observe thai Floret was flat- 
 tered, and not quite at ease, while under the 
 glare of every eye. She, therefore, entered 
 into conversation with her, and spoke to her, 
 and treated her in such a manner that she 
 began, gradually, to feel more calm and col- 
 lected, to be enabled to look with comprehend- 
 ing eyes upon the scene in which she was evi- 
 dently playing so conspicuous a part. 
 
 "Who is she? Who is she?" quickly ran 
 round the salon in whispers ; those who knew 
 the Countess of Brackleigh came up to her 
 on the pretence of inquiring after her health, 
 and then requested an introduction to Floret, 
 which they received, beincr favored only with 
 the name of Incognita. Then men began to 
 ask each other : 
 
 " Have you seen Incognita?" ' No !" " Oh, 
 by Jove ! She is with the Countess of Brack- 
 leigh. The loveliest pearl. "Can't find out 
 who she is. Nevaw saw anything so pawfect 
 befaw, by Jove!" 
 
 The Countess of Newmarket every now and 
 then kept gazing on the fair young face, as 
 with an expression of ad miration it was turned 
 toward the beautifully-dressed women, upon 
 the handsome, well-formed men, and uon 
 the splendidly-decorated apartment. 
 ehe gazed with a puzzled look. 
 
OR. THE FATE OF THE POOH GIRL. 
 
 193 
 
 Presently she said to Foret, in a low tone : 
 
 I do not intend to take any unfair adyan- 
 lage of you, or to extort from you by a side- 
 winded remark, to whom you are connected, 
 but I think I shall alight presently upon some 
 of your relatives." 
 
 Floret colored slightly, and, forcing a smile, 
 fihe gently shook her head. 
 
 " Indeed, I shall," continued the Countess. 
 "I recognize your features as being familiar 
 to me. I am convinced that they closely re- 
 semble those of " 
 
 " The Marchioness of Westehester !" loucly 
 exclaimed a voice, unnoticing a new arrival. 
 
 A loud and unequivocal buzz of surprise 
 greeted that proud and haughty woman, as 
 witli perfect self-possession and majesty of 
 mien she moved slowly and grandly toward 
 the Countess of Newmarket. 
 
 An exclamation of astonishment burst from 
 the lipa of the latter. 
 
 She gazed at the Marchioness, and then at 
 Floret, and again back from one to the other. 
 
 The Marchioness wore a dress of magnifi- 
 cent silk, the pattern of which was precisely 
 the same as that in which Floret was attired ; 
 it was made in the same fashion, and trimmed 
 in exactly similar style. 
 
 Tne Marchioness wore her hair plain over 
 her temples, and looped in small exquisitely- 
 finished plaits at the back of her head. Upon 
 her brow she wore a coronet of diamonds ; 
 round her white throat was a circlet of dia- 
 monds ; her neck, her waist, her wrists, blazed 
 with diamonds; 
 
 If it had been pre-arranged thai Floret and 
 she should resemble each other as closely as 
 could be possible in their attire, they could 
 not have more perfectly succeeded. 
 
 The Countess of Newmarket, with extended 
 eyelids, looked at the Countess of Brack- 
 Leigh for an explanation, but the Countess 
 only replied, in an undertone, and with evi- 
 dent excitement : 
 
 " Do me the kindness to introduce me and 
 my companion to the Marchioness. Tou shall 
 know all at a future time." 
 
 The Countess found it impossible to resist 
 this bribe, and as the Marchioness of West- 
 Chester, who had noi yet seen Floret, ad- 
 vanced to her, with a glittering eye, and a 
 etrange, defiant kind of smile upon her lip, the 
 latter said, after the first few words of recogni- 
 tion had passed : 
 
 " Permit me, Lady Westchester, to have the 
 honor of making two introductions to you. 
 You will be delighted." 
 
 The Marchioness bowed, and turning, faced 
 her deadliest enemy. 
 
 "The Countess of Brackleigh the Mar- 
 chioness of Westchester," exclaimed the 
 Countess, in a light and laughing tone. 
 
 The Marchioness seemed to contract and 
 freeze into ice. She nearly closed her eyes, 
 and made not the slightest gesture or move- 
 ment in response to the very low and sarcas- 
 tically-profound obeisance which the Countess 
 made to her. 
 
 " Let me present the eeeond lafly, Marchion- 
 ess," continued the Countess, not observing 
 the manner of the Marchioness, for her atten- 
 tion was' occupied by the expression upon 
 Floret's face. Her eyes were riveted upon 
 the countenance of her mother, and her fea- 
 tures seemed to express an anxious hope that 
 she would meet with some unusual attention 
 from her. 
 
 " You must make the acquaintance of my 
 charming young friend," she continued, ' and 
 that for very obvious reasons. The Marchion- 
 ess of Westchester Incognita. I have no 
 better name to offer you, Lady Westchester ; 
 you must, like the whole of us, be content 
 with it, and find out the riddle if you can." 
 
 The Marchioness opened her eyes, and they 
 rested on Floret's. 
 
 For the space almost of a minute their eyes 
 rested on each other's, and seemed in their 
 searching gaze to be endeavoring to penetrate 
 down to their respective hearts, to decipher 
 what was passing there. 
 
 Those who stood around gazed in silent 
 wonder at the pair who so remarkably resem- 
 bled each other, more even as they stood, each 
 with her eyes fixed upon the other's counte- 
 nance, than they had done previously. 
 
 For an instant their faces were exactly alike, 
 and then an expression inexpressibly touch- 
 ing stole over Floret's features. She^gazed at 
 Constance with a passionately beseeching 
 look. Mute as the appeal was, it was far more 
 powerful than if it had been made in words 
 of ardent eloquence but it was made ia 
 vain. 
 
 While Floret's countenance was full of earn- 
 est, tender, pitiful entreaty, her mother's gra- 
 dually became set and rigid ; her eye, which 
 for a moment for a moment only appeared 
 soft and liquid, changed its aspect to a cold., 
 stony stare. 
 
 She turned her head slowly away, and 
 glancing at the Countess of Newmarket, with 
 a look of ineffable scorn, she moved slowly 
 away. 
 
 Strange, perhaps, it was perhaps the voice 
 of nature would be heard, fcfhe, as she depart- 
 ed, turned her eyes furtively upon Floret's 
 face, and a cold, icy pang went through her 
 heart. 
 
 The young, sweet face, which a moment be- 
 fore had been instinct with sorrowful tender- 
 ness, was now white as death, its features were 
 rigid, and her eye had the same pitiless, stony 
 glance which she had the moment before lev- 
 eJed at her. 
 
 She felt her step totter and her crest fall 
 the girl, in her innocence and in the assertion 
 of her right, looked so proud, and regarded 
 her with such crushing scorn. She increased 
 her pace, and moved toward a floral recess, 
 and hurried at a yet swifter rate, as she beard 
 the voice which all the evening had been lust- 
 ily exercised, announce : 
 
 " The Earl of Brackleigh !" 
 
 " Do not mention my name or my presence 
 for the present," abruptly exclaimed the 
 
192 
 
 [HAGARLOT; 
 
 Countess of BracHeiph to her b isles*. Sbe 
 ep t to ia a tone of entreaty, and the Guac- 
 teiB uoddd assent. 
 
 The Countess of Brackleigh glided away 
 with Floret, stunned, bewildered, unconscious 
 of wbtitwas paeeing around her. 
 
 A3 they m->v*-d away, Lord Nihilalbum, who 
 was ore tt'tie gueetB, and whose attention bad 
 bfcn drawn to Floret by a young peer, an ea- 
 tlmai-etic admirer of ft male loveliness, ex- 
 claimed: 
 
 " Montbwouthly odd ! Inegnitaw, too? A 
 viiy ir.'th a widiculouthly pwepothte- 
 woutb,! Tbawmuthcbe tbome outwageouth 
 ntitht>ke. I willfollaw thith Incognitaw and 
 athkhiw who the deuil the ith. I'm a 
 thurelkaow Law.' waiha flowawgurl. Thith 
 will be an adventhaw the'th BO vewy like the 
 Maw<;hionetb to tell" 
 
 41 Tne Marquis of Vv estchester I" announced 
 .the ineprefisiole voice. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 ** To ftich excess did arger, pcorn, and Late 
 
 Trans i^rt Mm, Reasons gu d .use ligbt grew dim, 
 And Passion's mustering btoim oisiorttd every iimb t 
 
 So that of Hell's foul sprites the roost malign, 
 Who haw uijwa'cVfd <te opeEiugavirtue, 
 Cret,t to hia heart withetill c.)>l serpentine, 
 .And at, ihe iulna of tnoiuht reclining, bJew 
 To fUaae the spirk* of hatred, till they grew 
 Hot for revenge ; j et still he p qued, still acting 
 His aogry soul to ag vuy anew." 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 The Marquis of Weetcbester reached the 
 tnaneion ot the Countess or JNtwmarket rather 
 late, and in a state of much, be*t aud pertur- 
 baiion, wbich was notditninisbetiby hearing 
 his name vociferated at e\ery laudiug', and as 
 he entered ihe ealoon. Ioh*d been his wish, 
 and, by pu*jincf himself to a little inconveni- 
 ence, he could have easily manned ifc, to have 
 entered the builcif g and the rooms quietly, BO 
 that his name, if mentioned, would have reach- 
 ed OLly tbe e trs of his hostess ; but a delay at 
 his owa house, a longer delay in getting up^to 
 tfce CouDtets's, and tbe dis urbing thoughts 
 ivbich occupied his c*i8tracte<1 brain, caused 
 him to forget his purpose, until, bandiog his 
 -ard to the individual appointed to receive it, 
 he euddeiily experienced tbe annoyance of 
 hearing bis name jelled out in asbriil, clear 
 voice, wbich was taken up and repeated by 
 other voices, undl be stalked, as^hite as a 
 io to the presence of the Countess of 
 
 Be bad not even the advantage of passing 
 tip witi a throng ; BO that, among the names ut- 
 t*rtd in rapid tucceetion, bis might have es- 
 caped notice; but he fntered the hall at a 
 Bfaoixentary lull of arrivals; he vas rfcog 
 xiiz:d by tbe eervatt as a man of distinguish- 
 ed rank ; and, therefore, tdey felbitincum 
 bent upon them to pay homage to his title 
 nithi their most v'gcn.UH power of lungs. 
 
 Dunng tbe early part tf that evening while 
 much o lequieted by reflections connf cttd with 
 tbe comiLg \ieit of a most unwelcome guest 
 lie hud caufeed certain iuquiiiea to be znaae re 
 
 spec 1 inff the movements of the Har*bioi2es&. 
 
 She wad eo suspiciously quiet, ehe Bo'ob- 
 siinntely refased to visic him in his own apart- 
 ments, or to receive him in hers, and Fane 
 kept PO Btnciously out of his way, tWfc be felt 
 certain that the statements in tfte ar onymous 
 letter from the Countess of BracMleigh were 
 true. 
 
 He was at length informed that the Mar- 
 chioness was dressing for an evening f arty, 
 and that her carriage was ordered for eleven 
 that Light. 
 
 He responded only to this piece of intelli- 
 gence by ordering a servant to request Fane 
 to attend him. While waiting for her trrival, 
 theoLOst gloomy thoughts passed through his 
 mind thosedesperie thoughts, in< eed, which 
 only too frequently float through the brain of 
 Ihe madly jealous, who know that tbe objeefc 
 of their love does not reciprocate thtirlove, 
 but; is bent on lavishing her affections upon 
 another person. 
 
 He tried to etifle or to drive away a horrible 
 thought wbich would thrust it.-.elf into his 
 Blind, bu5 without success. 
 
 He dreaded the Marehi >nes making tn 
 discovery that she was the victim of an illegal 
 marriage, that unintentionally , it is true he 
 had deluded her, that her marriage with him 
 was a mockery, and that she was no wife ol 
 his. 
 
 He feared her passionate acorn, her bittei 
 rcp^cacjep, lur disdainful taunts, ber contu- 
 melious vituperation and scurrility ; for h 
 eveniooagined she would descend to such vul- 
 garity. 
 
 If tbe world were to be informed tha* ah 
 was not hia -wife, ia consequence of that titl 
 being legally cUioied by another, he had no 
 doubt that Bbe would retort upon him and 
 upon the woild, by acquainting it that ehe 
 bad never been other tban a phantom con- 
 sort. 
 
 And he was convinced that she would leave 
 Mm, too, with revilings upon her lips, con- 
 tempt in her glances, and hatred in ber heart 
 leave him to beetow upon a rival caresses 
 for wh'ch be DOW j earned with a ^eeire which 
 had been wholly unknown to him in the earner 
 portion of bis life. 
 
 But he vowtdtbat this result, as be prog- 
 nosticated ind woiked k out, should not come 
 to paes. He determined to Btop tbe mouth of 
 Cuptain Parrot at any cost, or, 'failu-gin that, 
 to have the life of hia rival, even at tbe cost of 
 hia own. 
 
 While in the agonizing throes cf three 
 maddening thoughts, he continued to send for 
 Fane, but she came net. She forwarded to him 
 u series of evasive messages, which ltd bin to 
 *xpecther, '* presently '; but she cid Lot make 
 her appearance, and evidently did cotintend 
 tj make her appearance before him until the 
 Marchioness 1 ad departed, and Le did Hot 
 wif h to have an itierview with her then. 
 
 Her last xneesage to him, in reply to an im- 
 perative one which he had dispatched to her> 
 iniormed him that she was At that moment ia 
 
OE, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 193 
 
 eloea attendance upon tlie Marchioness, but 
 the instant, ehe had a few moments at her dis- 
 posal she would, " with pleasure", wait upon 
 Jura. There was something extremely offen- 
 sive to the Marquis in the form in which this 
 communication was given to him, and he de 
 ter mired to send no more messages to the 
 woman, if she did not shortly attend him. 
 
 Ten o'clock came : he ordered his valet to 
 dress him. Eleven o'clock struck: bis toilet 
 was completed, but Fane had neither appeared 
 nor sent to him. 
 
 He hurried to a room which overlooked the 
 court yard, end he eaw the Marchioness' car- 
 riage standing there, with the coachman doz- 
 ing upon the box. He was about to turn away, 
 when his attention was attracted by a slight 
 bustle beneath him. He gazed eagarly down, 
 and eaw a servant run nimbly to the carriage- 
 door and open it; he beheld a vailed lady 
 spring nimbly into it ; he heard the clang of 
 the steps aa they were rattled up, and the 
 bang of th coach-door. He saw two of his 
 tall footmen spring upon the footboard at the 
 back of the carriage ; he heard one of them 
 call out : 
 
 "Ther Kenties of ITewmeklm's." 
 
 And the carriage rolled swiftly away. 
 _ With globules of cold and clammy perspira- 
 tion gathering thickly upon his forehead, he 
 hurried back to hia study with the intention 
 of ordering his brougham to be brought round 
 to the door instantly. 
 
 He found Fane there awaiting him. She 
 appeared to have taken unusual pains with her 
 at die, and looked very pretty and very at- 
 tractive. 
 
 The moment ehe perceived that his eyes 
 were fixed sternly upon her, she smiled with 
 affected coyneea, and dropped her eyes upon 
 the ground. 
 
 He started, and bit his lip with anger. 
 
 " What do you want here ?" he asked, sharp- 
 ly and harshly. 
 
 Quite unaffected by his sternness of manner, 
 she raised her eyes slowly, and looking at hia, 
 steadfastly and archly, replied in a somewhat 
 low tone : 
 
 "I thought your lordship wished rather 
 anxiously to gee me and alone," she added, 
 glancing quickly and furtively round the 
 apartment. 
 
 " I wished to put a few questions to you, 
 certainly, woman," he retorted, sternly and 
 haughtily, ' ' but the information which I ex- 
 pected to obtain from you I have acquired 
 without you. You can go." 
 
 " I am willing to answer any question your 
 lordship may wish to put to me," she return- 
 ed, in an artfully modulated voice ; and, with a 
 peculiarly modest and demure Isok, which, 
 however, did cot appear innocent or ingen- 
 uous, she added : " I am sure I am ready to 
 tell your lordship anything I know ; I don't 
 wish to conceal anything from your lordship ; 
 I am too much attached to O ! I beg your 
 lordship's pardon most humbly I meant to 
 eay, I have far too great respect for your lord- 
 
 ship to keep anything hidden, fro.si -/OUT lord- 
 ship with which I ana acquainted. and which 
 your lordship ought to know." 
 
 The Marquis by no means approved of this 
 style of addressing him ; but there was some- 
 thing in the matter of her speech which made 
 him nibble at her bait. 
 
 He, however, would, not look at her eyes, 
 which every now and then she turned full upon 
 him, evidently with the purpose of attracting 
 his ; but nearly c]osing his lids over his own, 
 he said, coolly and sternly still : 
 
 " What is there you know, which you pre- 
 sume I ought to know ?" 
 
 " I can hardly say, my Lord," she return- 
 ed, artfully, *but perhaps if your lordship 
 were to question me a kindly my Lord 
 a I mean my Lord, without terrifying me 
 I might be able, perhaps, to prove to you, my 
 Lord, that there ia something going on, my 
 Lord, which your lordship ought to know." 
 
 If there were anything of a secret and im- 
 proper nature transpiring, in reference to the 
 acts of the Marchioness, who, he thought, 
 would be so likely to be acquainted with it as 
 this woman, who was constantly in attendance 
 upon her ? 
 
 He looked at his watch ; it was twenty min- 
 utes past eleven. 
 
 "f- cannot attend to you now," he said, has- 
 tily ; " I have an engagement of importance 
 calling me at this moment " 
 
 The door abruptly opened, and a servant 
 entered, followed by a tall, bronzed, military- 
 looking man, who was dressed in a dark frock- 
 coat, buttoned up to the neck, round which 
 was a black military stock. 
 
 " Captain JParrot, of the Sydney Mounted 
 Rifles I" exclaimed the servant. 
 
 Fane was instantly all eyes ; she stared at 
 the man's face, his attire, his form, features, 
 every characteristic by which she would know 
 him again stared at him with such a stead- 
 fast and curiously meaning look, that the Cap- 
 tain's notice was attracted to her. 
 
 To be the object of inspection to such 
 charmicg eyes, eet in so pretty a face, was 
 more than Captain Parrot's strength of mind 
 could permit him to observe unnoiiced or un- 
 moved ; he, therefore, deliberately smiled, and 
 slightly nodded at her. 
 
 The Marquis, who was gazing upon him with 
 a disturbed, excited, and searching scrutiny, 
 saw this little episode with great offence ; he, 
 therefore, scowled at Fane, and pointing to 
 the door? said, angrily : 
 
 " Go, Woman ! I will speak to you further 
 in the morning." 
 
 Fane glided swiftly put of the room. As 
 she passed the Captain, she raised her eyes 
 wilh an arch look to his, which caused him to 
 a^ain- respond with an approving smile. Then 
 ehe disappeared, muttering, as soon as she 
 was alone : 
 
 " That's the man. That's Mr. You Know 
 Who !' I thought it would be hard if I didn't 
 get to eee him, and it *ill be harder still if he 
 don't try to see me again that is, if 1 know 
 
194 
 
 HAGAli LOT ; 
 
 anything of his abominable sex. Won't I get 
 e^eryttiDg out of him ? Men are fools, there 
 ia no doubt about that?" 
 
 The Marquis, in the meantime, motioned to 
 bia servant to place a chair for his guest, and 
 retire. 
 
 The instant they were alone, the Earl said 
 to him, hurriedly and excitedly. 
 
 "Warlock, I never expected to see you 
 again. I never expected to discover that I 
 had been so basely treated by a man to whom 
 I had behaved so well." 
 
 " My Lord," interposed the man, whom he 
 called Warlock, " we have not met now to call 
 each other names, but to talk business." 
 
 " Very well," returned the Marquis, quick- 
 ly. " Then I will be prompt with you. What 
 if to me it is worth ten thousand pounds to 
 prove that I have, by a first marriage, a wife 
 living, and that I am therefore able to get rid 
 entirely of my present Marchioness. Tell me 
 what, in such a case, would be the value of 
 my secret, as you term it, to you ?" 
 
 " Why, ten thousand pounds, of course," re- 
 joined Warlock, instantly, with a cool and 
 complacent manner. 
 
 " How?" inquired the Marquis dryly. 
 
 11 Simply enough," returned Warlock readi- 
 ly; "because I can prove your first mar- 
 liage!" 
 
 ' But so can I," retorted the Marquis, quick- 
 ly and significantly, " and without your aid, 
 which, aa a purchasable commodity, would be 
 to me worth nothing. I could easily substan- 
 tiate my declaration that I have been previous- 
 ly married, by a reference to the chapel, the 
 Bituation of which I remember, and I could 
 trace out the clergyman, no doubt, without 
 difficulty. I could, now that you are in Eng- 
 land, compel you by a supcena to appear in a 
 court of justice, and upon oath state what you 
 know. I could make you reveal everything, 
 and " 
 
 " Ah ! to be sure, of course, face tke pen- 
 alty of the law, and so forth, my Lord," in- 
 terrupted Warlock, snapping his fingers ; 
 " that all sounds very well, but that is a point 
 I have not overlooked. I have not blundered 
 blindly on to you ; I have made inquiries, and 
 I know that" 
 
 " You know nothing, fool !" cried the Mar- 
 quis, impatiently. " I tell you that the very 
 L'ixt half-hour may make your note to me 
 fche most welcome boon I ever received in my 
 life, or it may induce me to purchase your 
 Bilenee with a sum which to you will be a for- 
 tune. But I cannot stay to parley; while 
 discussing the worth of your knowledge, I 
 may lose the opportunity of discovering a 
 circumstance which may make it valuable to 
 me, and therefore, of some considerable worth 
 to you. You must either remain quietly in 
 this room, witkout attempting to move from 
 it until my return, or you must call upon me 
 to-morrow"." 
 
 '* We must settle our preliminaries EOW," 
 returned the man, with a sullen, determined, 
 dogged look. He did not like the tenor of 
 
 the remarks which had fallen from the lipj ol 
 the Marquis. 
 
 The latter gazed at him with a fierce look 
 of authority, ana said : 
 
 'Mdke your election. Yon will go or re- 
 main ; an.d decide at once, or I will decide for 
 you." 
 
 <l I can't part with you, my Lord Marquis, 
 until some arrangement has been come to," per- 
 sisted the man, Warlock, with a firm and de- 
 cidve manner. 
 
 " I have already intimated to you," rejoin- 
 ed the Marquis, haughtily, " that it is not for 
 you, but for me, to make terms. I may re- 
 ject your overtures with contempt, and dare 
 and defy any revelation which you may have 
 the rascality, to say nothing of the ingrati- 
 tude, to make, if I think fit, without any jus- 
 tifiable fear of the consequences ; or I may 
 see the advantage of taking you once more 
 into my confidence, and of employing you 
 upon certain matters in which your peeuliar 
 skill may be, as it has been, successfully dis- 
 played. But I cannot listen to any menaces, 
 nor will I, Again, I tell you, that I have not 
 a second to spare, and you must decide one 
 way or the other." 
 
 " How long will your lordship be away from 
 this ?" inquired the man, not at all approving 
 of a position which, expecting to rule with a 
 high hand, he found to be a little too much 
 the other way. 
 
 " It may be an hour ; it may be less, it may 
 be more. I cannot say," replied the Marquis, 
 coldly. " I may return very shortly, I may 
 be detained for some time ; but I shall be 
 sure to retura here, and I shall be equally 
 sure, then, to know the way in which it will be 
 best for me to regard your communication." 
 
 "I will remain till you come back, my 
 Lord," said Warlock, after a moment's reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 <k"I will send you some wine instantly," re- 
 sponded the Marquis. " Do not address a 
 servant, nor utter a word until my return." 
 
 He passe^ out of the room, and closed the 
 door behifid him. He summoned his valet, 
 and said to him, in a low, peremptory tone : 
 
 " I have left a person in my library he 
 was, years since, a servant of mine, and I 
 wish to extort some information from him 
 which he is disposed to communicate. Take 
 some wine to him ; do not converse with him, 
 but lock him in so that he cannot leave, and 
 keep your eye upon the door until my return r 
 which I anticipate will be shortly after 
 twelve." 
 
 As he concluded, he hurriedly descended 
 the stairs ta the hall, passed quickly through 
 ifc, leaped into his brougham, and was driven 
 rapidly to the mansion of the Countees of 
 Newmarket. 
 
 He walked, with a quick, nervous step, up 
 te the Countess, on entering the salon, and 
 paid her a few brief congratulations and corn- 
 olirnentB upon fcer good looks and the brilliant 
 p^aracter of her assembly. 
 
 She appeared not to listen to wn 
 
OK, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 195 
 
 saving, but to be occupied with a curious and 
 earnest scrutiny of hia features. Presently 
 she said, in a tone which surprised, piqued, 
 and irritated him : 
 
 " Sorry to see you look ao white and jaded, 
 Westchester you are not well, I'm sure. 
 Nothing happened te fret you, I hope ?" 
 
 41 Your Jadyship is aa full of quiz and ban- 
 ter as ever, I perceive," he responded, with a 
 grim smile. 
 
 " Not to you, Westchester," she returned, 
 showing her white teeth in a smile. " You 
 are something like the lordly tiger, not quite 
 the subject to joke with. By the by, I must 
 tell you that I have succeeded in creating an 
 immense sensation to-night." 
 
 " Your ladyship cannot fail to achieve that 
 triumph whenever you appear in public," 
 suggested the Marquis, with the same grim, 
 cold smile. 
 
 "That compliment is very stale, West- 
 Chester," she rejoined, laughing with unaffect- 
 ed enjoyment ; " but it ia novel from your 
 lips ; for you looked, when you said it, like 
 the royal tiger which I have already men- 
 tioned, as though you would snap me up at a 
 mouthful" 
 
 " I assure your ladyship," interrupted the 
 Marquis. 
 
 " That I should be a very pleasant mor- 
 sel," interrupted the Countess, laughing, and 
 slightly raising his hand. " Yes, I have fre- 
 quently been told so; but be good enough 
 to listen to me without interruption, West- 
 Chester, for I am exceedingly anxious to draw 
 your attention to the matter. You know that 
 I am fond of doing things unlike any other 
 person, and, to-night, I have here present a 
 young and lovely girl, decked out, I admit, 
 in jewels that should be worn by her mam- 
 ma ; but such jewels 1 She is of high birth, 
 that I know ; but she has not yet been brought 
 out. She is here to-night, that the world may 
 talk of her before she takes the lead of fash- 
 ion, which she is sure to do. The world, how- 
 ever, has not been permitted to know her 
 name her descent is as noble as your own, 
 Weatchester but, to-night, I can only be- 
 come acquainted with her by the soubriquet of 
 Incognita. I do not think Lady Westchester, 
 who has seen her, feels disposed to enter into 
 this piece of pleasantry, and I imagine she 
 feels less inclined to accept an introduction 
 which comes before her in a shape not per- 
 fectly en regie. But those present, Westchest- 
 er, who know me well, are quite ready to ac- 
 cept my guarantee that the birth and position 
 of the young lady are unimpeachable, and to 
 enjoy the riddle, for such it is and, at most, 
 a harmless ons. Pray, Westchester, proceed 
 yonder, where you will find Incognita, chaper- 
 oned by the Countess of Brackleigh. Look at 
 her features and figure, her tout ensemble, and 
 then return to me, and tell me whether you 
 ccn make her out." 
 
 This Marquis was surprised at this commu- 
 uication. As it opened, he regarded it as a 
 tedious bore, for he was anxious to be upon 
 
 the trail of his Marchioness, that, unobserved, 
 he might watch her every action without ap- 
 pearingjto do so. The mention of the feame 
 of the Coijntess of Bracklogh, had however, 
 startled liifn, and at once invested with con- 
 siderable interest; that which he would, other- 
 wise, have looktxl upon as a mere piece of 
 caprice and fashionable folly on the part of 
 his hostess. 
 
 As he hastened away in the direction in 
 which the Countess of Newmarket Lad indi- 
 cated, he encountered Lord Nihilalbum, who 
 instantly laid his finger upon his arm, an ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " Haw ! Wethchethaw, I am delighted to 
 meet . with yaw. The thwangetht thircum- 
 thanthe hath occawed. Haw it will twitht 
 youaw withible muthleth into haw the 
 dwolleth thcwew pothible!" 
 
 " Another time !" responded the Marquis, 
 a little impatiently. "I am looking after a 
 lady, whom, I fear, uuless I am quick in my 
 movements, I may mies!" 
 
 "Incognitaw, of coawth!" responded his 
 lordship. 
 
 Ine Marquie looked at him quickly. 
 
 "Have you seen her?" he asked. 
 
 " Haw ! have I not !" he replied, with a si- 
 lent grin. " Eveywbody ith tawking about 
 haw. She'th a pothitive wage jutht now, and 
 evewbody'th taken in with haw. Theaw will 
 be thuch a wow when the twuth cometh out ; 
 the Counteth will have to twy a change ot' 
 aiaw do Mont Bianc, or the White Nile, or 
 the Mawmon tewitowy !" 
 
 " I do not understand you!" said the Mar- 
 quis, regarding him with a surprieed and 
 haughty glare of inquiry. 
 
 "You will, Wethchethtaw, when I intwo- 
 duce Jnoognitaw to youaw notiih. Attend 
 me, if you pleathe ?" returned his lordship, 
 moving away in the same direction as that 
 which the Marquis had been taking. 
 
 A few paces, politely elbowed through a 
 moving maes, and they came upon a group of 
 persons, who, well-bred as they were, were 
 occupied in etaring steadfastly at Floret, 
 who was seated on a sociable by the side of; 
 the Countess of Brackleigh, looking whiter 
 than marble, and evidently distressed and un- ' 
 happy, although she made brave efforts to ap- 
 pear composed, calm, cold, and indifferent to 
 the sensation she was creating, and the admir- 
 ation she was exciting. 
 
 "Theyawaheitht" exclaimed Lord Nihil- 
 album. 
 
 "Almighty heaven!" ejaculated the Mar- 
 quis, as he gazed upon Floret's death-like 
 face, and the expression of haughty scorn 
 given to it by a Blight and scarcely percepti- 
 ble curl of the lip. " The very counterpart !" 
 
 "Of the Mawthioneth !" rejoined Lord Ni- 
 hilalbum. "Yeth, but a meaw impothtaw. 
 How the deyvil the got heaw ith a mithtewy. 
 But it theemth to me that whatevaw fweakth 
 the Counteth of Newawket may choothe to in- 
 dulge in hawthelf, the hath no wight to play 
 thuoh pwactical joketb ath thith upon people 
 
196 
 
 HAG AR LOT ; 
 
 of high wank, beawth, and condition. I know 
 the gurl well ; she wath a meaw twamp at 
 wathes when a child haw Belling floweth, 
 an' all that thoawt of thing." 
 
 "Impossible?" ejaculated the Marquis, still 
 regarding her with an air of eager, nay, in- 
 tense interest. " She ia wondrously like Lady 
 Wesfcchesterl" 
 
 "Thath the cwy in evawybody's mouth, 
 and it ought to be thoppad by an xpothaw of 
 the thwindle." 
 
 " Like enough to be even her own child I" 
 muttered the Marquis, a sensation passing 
 passing over his frame which could only be 
 paralleled by that of death itself. 
 
 "Pothitively!" ejaculated Lord Nihilal- 
 bum, in an undertone, and with some earnest- 
 ness. " And that ith the infewanth which will 
 be dwawn byevewy pawthon pwethent, and it 
 will be thaweulated with haw fwightful 
 wapidity in evewy thuwcle. Don't you we- 
 member haw, Wethchethtaw ?" 
 
 "I do?" ejaculated the Marquis, gutturally. 
 
 He recognized, in Incognita, the young, 
 fainting girl whom he had seen borne swiftly 
 from, tae private apartment 'of the Marehion- 
 ness by the gipsy, Hagar Lot. 
 
 "I thowaght you mutht!" rejoined Lord 
 Nibilalbum, pulling his moustache nervously. 
 Then he added, abruptly: "lt^ would be 
 pothifcively madness to pawmit this jugglewy 
 to go on. The weputation of the Mawtnioneth 
 will be compwomithed. You ought inthantly 
 to thtep up to haw, Wethchethtaw, proclaim 
 haw a cheat, and bid haw quit the plathe." 
 ^ But the Marquis was too absorbed in reflec- 
 tions and remembrances to heed what fell 
 from Nihilalbum's lips. He was once more 
 mentally in converse with the innkeeper and 
 the doctor of Beachborough. 
 
 " Haw if you aw indiffewent to thaw honaw 
 of ouaw Houthe haw I am not!" abruptly 
 and excitedly exclaimed Lord Nihilal'bum. 
 
 In another instant he stood before Floret, 
 and said, in a loud and insulting tone . 
 
 'Haw, Incognita w ha! look at me haw 
 look in my fathe haw don't youaw weo- 
 ognitiieme?" 
 
 Floret looked upon him. She did, indeed, 
 recognize him. Her sudden horror at behold- 
 ing him lent a whiteness to the colorless hue 
 on her cheek. 
 
 The Countess of Brackleigh, rose up, and 
 in a commanding tone, said indignantly to 
 him : "How dare you address this young lady, 
 my friend and companion, with so insolent a 
 manner." 
 
 "My deaw weak lady, let It thuffice for you 
 that I shall be wethpecfal to youaw," returned 
 Lord Nihilalbum, greatly fluttered. " But if 
 youaw wethigned undaw a motht impudent 
 an4 outwageouth. impothtuaw I am not, and I 
 do not intend to be. Why, I nevaw met with 
 touch a cat-he in the whole coawth of my ex 
 ithtence. I thay to you, gurl, how dare you 
 to obtwude youawthelf in thuch a bwilliant 
 and dithtinguithed thawcle ath thith, I thay, 
 how dare you, a cheaf -a " 
 
 " What!"ex3laimed a clear, ringieg" voice, 
 sternly fiercely interrupting him suddenly 
 and decisively. 
 
 Lord Nihilalbum at the same moment found 
 that a young and handsome man had inter- 
 posed himself between him and Floret, and 
 was glaring- at him 'with glittering eyes. 
 
 Lord Nihilalbum paused. 
 
 He adjusted his eye glass, and looked with 
 an air of wonderment upon the individual who 
 had stepped between him and his intended 
 victim. 
 
 " Repeat one fragment of the observations 
 you have just been making," continued his op- 
 ponent, speaking and trembling with intense 
 excitement, " and though it shall be deroga- 
 tory to my own dignity and to that of those 
 in whose presence we stand, I will wrench your 
 tongue from between your jaws, and crush it 
 beneath my heel!" 
 
 " Haw ! what do you haw mean haw ?" 
 exclaimed Nikilalbum, absolutely petrified 
 with amazement. 
 
 " This," he returned, that you have dared 
 to insult a young, and, for the moment, a de- 
 fenceless lady that you have had the audaci- 
 ty to utter publicly a flagrant falsehood, 
 which I as publicly flatly contradict, and will 
 compel jou as publicly to retract." 
 
 "Haw who, pray, aw you?" inquired his 
 Lordship, besoming gradually livid. 
 
 " Your superior in rank, as I am, I trust, in 
 every attribute of manhood," instantly replied 
 his antagonist, with scornful dignity. " I am 
 Broadiands," he added, drawing swiftly a card 
 from his pocket, and flinging it in his face: 
 " I regret, for many and obvious reasons, that 
 I should have been drawn into such a eceve as 
 this. I regret that I should have been compell- 
 ed to take the present step, by the aspersions 
 of a puppy,, who appears to be as incapable of 
 comprehending the usages of civilized society 
 as he is wanting in the feelings of a gen- 
 tleman, and the instincts of common man- 
 hood." 
 
 He turned to Floret, and, with a respectful 
 deference of manner, he bowed to her, and 
 said: 
 
 " Permit me to have the honor to attend yon 
 to your carriage. After such an outrage to 
 your feelings, you will, I am sure, be anxious 
 to retire." 
 
 " O Lord Victor !" gasped Floret, grateful 
 to him beyond all power of description, as she 
 clung to his proffered arm. Then instantly 
 arsise a low, murmuring buzz around, especial- 
 ly from the the younger men, and "No!" 
 " No !" and " Shame !" escaped eev^ral lips. 
 
 A young peer, who krew Lord Victor well, 
 stepped up t9 him and said, hastily : 
 
 " It is nnjust to the lady that we should 
 permit her to depart. Tne fellow who has in- 
 eulted her cannot be for a moment suffered to 
 remain. It would be a crowning insult to her 
 if she were made even for an instant to feel 
 that it would be proper for her to retire." 
 
 At this instant the Earl of Brackleigh, with 
 ajlushed face and glittering eyes, stepped up 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOK GIRL, 
 
 X97 
 
 to Victor ttiidsflisl, haughtily and imperiously, 
 &a lie glanced fiercely at Floret : 
 
 " Stay, I have ft duty to perform here. I 
 have something to say." 
 
 " You will not, Brackleigh, dare to say it in 
 my presence !" exclaimed the Countess, sud- 
 denly interposing between bim and Floret. 
 
 " JSTor in m'tae I" exclaimed the Marquis of 
 Westchester, abruptly, but with a very delib- , 
 erate emphasis. 
 
 He had, while Lord Nihil album was en 
 gaged ia making his first few insulting re- 
 marks to Floret, caught sigkt of the Marchion- 
 ess at the entrance to one of the conservato- 
 ries, speaking *ith much earnestness to the 
 Earl of Brackleigh, and that with a familiarity 
 of manner, although it was the very reverse of 
 levity, which was such as he had never be- 
 fore seen her exhibit to any man even to 
 himself. 
 
 With a countenance of waxen whiteness, 
 with glaring eyes and a heari which beat tu- 
 multuously, he observed the Earl hastily ap- 
 proaching the spot where he was standing. 
 He listened to the first observations which fell 
 from hb lips on reaching the group, of which 
 Floret, Lord Victor, and the Countess ware 
 the centre ; and the moment the Countess fin- 
 ished her reply, he took part in the conversa- 
 tion and such a part. 
 
 The Earl gazed upon him with unequivocal 
 surprise. He certainly had not expected to 
 encounter the Marquis there most assuredly 
 not at such a moment. 
 
 Scowling malignantly at him, and for the 
 time dead to every consideration, but one, he 
 repeated his words slowly, and with stinging 
 accentuation. 
 
 The Earl drew himself up, and replied, 
 haughtily : . 
 
 " Nob 3are ? You mistake me !" 
 
 "I am Westchester!" replied the Marquis, 
 slowly, and with contemptuous bitterness. " I 
 do not mistake you ! You ere Brackleigh a 
 scoundrel a liar and a coward !" 
 
 The Earl passionately raised his hand upon 
 the impulse of the moment, to fell him to the 
 earth; but a noblemaa caught his arm, and 
 said, sharply, in bis ear : 
 
 " Brackleigh, for Heaven's sake do not for- 
 get yourself! Remember where you are! 
 There will be a proper time and place to set- 
 tle this extraordinary matter ! Be calm, what- 
 ever you do!" 
 
 By a powerful effort the E'irl restrained his 
 passion, but his voice trembled, as he eaid : 
 
 "My Lord Marquis oi Westeheater, I call 
 upon you to retract your disgraceful and your 
 your false assertions. I insist that yoa recall 
 them!" 
 
 "Kofc a letter!" said the Marquis, firmly 
 and deliberately. " Mot with my dying breatu ! 
 I should be fttlese to my honor, and outrage 
 truth, if I were I" 
 
 The Earl champed his teeth and lipa to- 
 gether. 
 
 " You shall hear from me," he said. 
 
 " Quite soon enoughfor your courage, when- 
 
 ever it may occur, but never too own for my 
 inclination, if it were now I" responded the 
 Marquia, as he stalked away. 
 
 Poring this colloquy Lord Victor, who 
 found Floret hanging upon his arm as though 
 she was in a fainting condition, drew her away. 
 The Countess of Brackleigh, with one of Flo- 
 ret's hands in hers, walking by her side. 
 Looks ef wonder and astonishment accompa- 
 nied them as they quitted the room. 
 
 The Marquis of Westchesfcer observed the 
 Marchioness, standing, like one bewildered, 
 on the same spot where he had seen her speak- 
 ing to the Ear] of Brackleigh. He advanced 
 toward her, but she caught sight of him as he 
 drew near to her, and she moved hastily away, 
 quitted the room, and disappeared before h 
 could reach her. 
 
 He was blocked upon the staircase in his 
 endeavor to descend it for more than half an 
 hour, and on reaching the hall he leapned, 
 upon inquiry, that the Marchioness had de- 
 parted in her carriage for home. He followed 
 her thither. 
 
 As Lord Victor quitted the room with Fio- 
 ret, LordNihilalbum dispatched a lordly ac- 
 quaintance to him. After a minute's confer- 
 ence with him, this acquaintance returned to 
 Lord Nihilalbum, who addressed him nervous- 
 ly and eagerly : 
 
 " Well, what doth he thay ?" he inquired. 
 
 " Why, aw Nihilalbum aw I aw 
 tawld him aw that he -aw should hea* 
 from you aw." 
 
 " Yeth," responded hia lordship, quickly ; 
 " and what did he thay to that ?" 
 
 " Well aw ha said that he should aw 
 quite expect to heaw from you aw," returned 
 his friend ; " and that aw if he did not aw 
 he should certawnly hawsewhip you wher- 
 evaw he met with you aw." 
 
 "Did" he?'' exclaimed Lord Nihilalbum, 
 with undisguised interest. 
 
 "Ya as," replied his friend; " and aw 
 my bslief is aw that he means, if you go 
 out with him, to wing you," 
 
 " Hope he may I" exclaimed a voice near to 
 them; "justly desawved, by gad !" 
 
 Lord Nihilalbum looked round, but was un- 
 able to discover the speaker ; end, plunged 
 into a state ef profound reflection, he, too, de- 
 parted from the brilliant scene. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 Lea3 me to her ! I'll fall before her feet 
 Prostrate, implore, besiege her womaa'a heart, 
 And with my team's force lier to release .ma 
 From the cruel oath wbL^h now seals my lips. , 
 She will absolve me unless, alas ! it be 
 Her heart id adamant. 
 
 THE OBDUBATB MOTHER. 
 
 Lord Victor, who had kept the promiso 
 whicli he had made to himself to be present 
 at the reception of the Countess of Newmar- 
 ket, and who was there under the name of a 
 friend, whose card he usd, quickly discovered, 
 after Floret's arrival, that ehe waa placed in 
 an ansinaioua Doaition. 
 
103 
 
 HAGAR LOT; 
 
 Her exceeding beauty he had cot conceiv- 
 ed that she would, by the aid of dress and 
 ornament, look BO dazzlingly lovely attract- 
 ed the gaze of all beholders, and her tide ex- 
 cited a variety of remarks, which annoyed 
 him as he listened to them. At first he kept 
 aloof from her J; but he'gradually narrowed 
 his distance, until he reached her side, at the 
 very moment she most needed his presence, 
 and when his arrival was peculiarly welcome 
 to her. 
 
 He accompanied Floret and the Countess of 
 Brackleixh to the carriage of the latter, and 
 pressed Floret's hand as he took his farewell 
 leave of her ; she pressed his in return, and he 
 felt his heart leap at her soft touch. 
 
 " I shall eee you soon again," he whispered. 
 
 She gazed upon him with eyes which beam- 
 ed with tenderness, but were suffused with 
 tears. 
 
 " I regret so deeply," she murmured, " as- 
 senting to the arrangement which brought me 
 here to-night. Kindness to me alone was in- 
 tended I am convinced of that but I fear 
 evil will be the only result. I pray you, Lord 
 Victor, to let this unhappy event rest where it 
 does. Do not suffer yourself to be drawn 
 into any further complication on my account. 
 More than enough has been already done, and 
 my heart would break if any serious conse- 
 quences to you were to attend the painful 
 scene of to-night." 
 
 He pressed her hand warmly. 
 
 " Do not fear, Floret. Everything will go 
 well. At first I regretted your presence at the 
 Countess' to-night, but, en reflection, I am 
 deeply gratified ; for, after what has occurred, 
 matters cannot rest where they are. Inquiry 
 will provoke investigation, and justice must 
 and shall be done to you. Good- night, dear- 
 est ; look forward with bright anticipations ; 
 and, for my sake, be as hopeful and aa cheer- 
 ful as you can." 
 
 Floret was unable to utter a word, but she 
 bent upon him a look of gratefal, loving 
 thankfulness, which more faithfully conveyed 
 her appreciation of his noble behavior to her 
 than any language could have done. 
 
 He waved his hand to her, and the carriage 
 was whirled away. 
 
 _She sank back very much saddened and dis- 
 pirited, and not disposed to listen to or to 
 utter a remark. 
 
 If or did the Countess exhibit any desire to 
 speak. She, too, laid her head back in the 
 carriage, and clasped her hands together, for 
 ehe knew that the hour of retribution, but 
 alao of her humiliation, was at hand. 
 
 Brackleigh Mansion was reached without 
 silence having been broken by either ; and as 
 they entered the hall, and the servants bowed 
 to them as they passed through, Floret shud- 
 dreed, and felt a passionate desire to rush to 
 the dressicg-room and tear off her splendid 
 attire, as if they were robea of flame which 
 were consuming her. 
 
 To her joy, Ida was await inglier ; and she 
 :vw as she entered the room that she regarded 
 
 her with smiles of happy gratulation, as 
 though she felt assured that she had achieved 
 a brilliant triumph. 
 
 But she saw the smiles fade rapidly away, 
 and an expression of pain cress her features, 
 as a look of eager inquiry darted from her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Not a word to me, darling," whispered 
 Floret, as she folded her arms about her neck, 
 and kissed her. " Not a word, until we are at 
 home. Only hasten to help to rid me of these 
 hateful things." 
 
 Ida, with a silent tongue and heavy heart, 
 did as she was requested, and Floret was soon 
 again attired in her own humble drees what 
 a relief it seemed to her to exchange it for the 
 brilliant robes she had just cast off! and she 
 preeented herself before the Countees to take 
 her leave of her. 
 
 She found her seated still in the same chair 
 into which she had thrown herself on her re- 
 turn home, the very incarnation of woe and 
 despair. 
 
 Floret had not, in her bewildered terror and 
 half- fainting state, when attacked by Lord 
 SrihilalbuBQ, observed the rencontre between 
 the Marquis of Westchester and the Earl cf 
 Brackleigh : the Countess had. She had seen 
 with fear the ashen countenance of the Mar- 
 quis, and the deadly animosity to her husband 
 which was depicted upon it ; she onjy too 
 clearly interpreted its meaning it meant 
 death without mercy to him. She also at one 
 glance saw that the murderous intention was 
 fully reciprocated by the Earl. His face waa 
 flushed, and its expression was that of en 
 anger which had been roused by a deliberate 
 insult, but beneath it was a deeper and deadlier 
 feeling a long account of accumulated hate, 
 which could only be blotted out by blood 
 which should absorb, too, a human life. 
 
 Her schemiBg had brought the two men to- 
 gether. She was horrified at the contempla- 
 tion of their final parting ; she had not fore- 
 seen the probable result. In matters of re- 
 venge, women seldom, if ever, think of the 
 consequences. She only thought that the at- 
 tention of the Marquis being brought to the 
 conduct of the Marchioness and the Ear], an 
 investigation would take place, and justice 
 would be done in a court of law elie had 
 overlooked an appeal to the court of honor 
 nay, it would be nearest to the truth to eay 
 that she never thought at all, but acted as in- 
 stinct and impulse had urged her. 
 
 It had come to tMs, that by the following 
 dawn her husband if such she might still call 
 him would be opposed, with deadly weapon, 
 to the Marquis ; and that ike life of one or 
 both would be sacrificed, and with either her 
 happiness. 
 
 For what? for whom? a woman whose 
 heart was more impenetrable than marble, 
 and whose virtue she believed if apparently 
 like snow on the surface was as yielding to 
 pressure as that friable, easily -dissolvable 
 substance. 
 
 Distracted by her thoughts, she felt her 
 
OK, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 199 
 
 action to be paralyzed. She knew not what 
 to do, or how to guide the storm which she 
 herself had raised ; sfce knew not to whom to 
 confide her terrible previsions. To Floret 
 she could not. She knew that by her act she 
 bad jeopardized her father's life and imperiled 
 her mother's chastity in the eyes of that 
 fashionable world in which she had moved as 
 o Penelope, treating every suitor with disdain, 
 and apparently regarding the honor of her 
 husband as her most cherished idol. 
 
 Floret perceived the struggle which was 
 going on in her mind, but attributed it to the 
 conduct of the Earl to her, and the humiliat- 
 ing position in which it placed her. She, 
 however, thought that it would be prudent not 
 to advert to it ; and she, therefore, in brief 
 terms, thanked her for the interest wLich she 
 had evinced in her fortunes, and regretted that 
 the result should have proved so unsatisfactory 
 to both ; she added tbat, the appeals made to 
 her mother having failed, it now became her 
 duty to herself to act in such a manner es to 
 compel an acknowledgment of her birth, and 
 to establish her right to a proper position ; cr, 
 failing that, to retire into insignificance, and 
 never be eeen or heard of more. 
 
 The Countess bade Subtle, in lew and husky 
 tones, to attend the two young ladies to the 
 carriage, which, under her instructions, was 
 waiting to convey them home, and she bade 
 them farewell, adding, in strange, guttural ac- 
 cents : 
 
 " The drama is nearly played out. Heaven 
 help us ! it promises to end like an awful trag 
 sdyP 
 
 Floret did not comprehend her meaning ; 
 but taking Ida by the ^hand, she bent low to 
 the Countess, and passed out into the corridor, 
 wad BO down to the hall, with a sense of hav- 
 ing been deeply humbled, and with feelings of 
 mortification, under which her spirit was very 
 restive. 
 
 Aa they reacted the hall, they were startled 
 by a tremendous knocking at the door, which 
 the hall- porter, with a bound, reached and 
 flung wide epea. 
 
 With a countenance pale and stern, the Earl 
 of Brackleigh entered with a quick and 
 haughty step, and encountered Floret. 
 
 Their eyes met. 
 
 She drew herself up ; that same curl of the 
 email, beautiful upper lip, which had been so 
 remarkable a characteristic of Constance Plan- 
 tagenetfe face, gave an expression of scorn to 
 his features, which made him start. 
 
 She passed him^with a proud demeanor, 
 and the door closed behind her ere he could 
 titter a word, or act upon an impulse which, 
 u.a he regarded her features, suddenly moved 
 him. 
 
 "My God!" he muttered; "if, after all, 
 CoDstanee should have deceived me! Can 
 Buck a marvelous resemblance be an accident ? 
 O ! if Soel'ey were only living, the point upon 
 which all this misery is turning would at least 
 fcs Reitled." 
 
 He inquired, on reaching thi? apartment, for 
 
 Nat Ferret ; but he was informed that a note 
 had arrived there for him at rather a late hour, 
 and be had gone out. 
 
 He left word to say that he had been sum- 
 moned to the west, but that he would return 
 as soon as he was able. 
 
 The Earl knew by this message that the 
 note was from Fane, the attendant of the Mar- 
 chioness of "Westchester, and that probably 
 there was some important intelligence to be 
 brought to him. He, consequently, resolved 
 te sit up for Nat. He had already eent a 
 friend, a nobleman, to the Marquis of West- 
 chester, to arrange a meeting, for that any 
 compromise between them could be effected 
 he knew to be impossible ; it was necessary, 
 therefore, to await his return. 
 
 He flung himself into a chair, and the form 
 of Floret at once presented itself before him, as 
 with wonder he had seen it at tlie Countess oi 
 Newmarket's* and a few micutea previously in 
 his own hall, moving with a stately and proud 
 mien past him. 
 
 Floret and Ida went on their way home ; 
 and to the inquiries of the latter Floret had 
 little to respond that little was painful to 
 herself, and most unsatisfactory to her com' 
 panion. 
 
 She passed a sleepless night; that stony 
 stare which her mother had turned upon her 
 haunted her, and roused her to a determina- 
 tion to act for herself. 
 
 She saw that the whole chain of evidence 
 to substantiate her claim to be the legally 
 born child of Lennox and Constance Bertram 
 was complete; not a link was wanting; it 
 was but to harden her heart and to set about 
 her task. 
 
 Tfce hardening of the hearfc was a more dif- 
 ficult process than she thought it would be 
 a process in which she met with very little 
 success. 
 
 The following morning, she went round to 
 the residence of Susan Vere, in order to 8e 
 Fanny Shelley ; and she learned with satisfac- 
 tion, after one day's perfect quiefr, and two 
 nights' refreshing sleep, Fancy had found her- 
 self well enough to quifc her bedroom, and to 
 talk with them all quite rationally, and to bear 
 the narration of events which Stephen first 
 and then Susan made to her. 
 
 " She knows now who you are, dear Floret," 
 continued Susan, with glittering eye*. ' She 
 knows that you are the child she brought to 
 Beachborough, and who cost her her reason 
 no no I mean who was reared there as the 
 Poor Girl, and who once suffered so much. 
 But ehe wishes so earnestly to eee yow, that if 
 you had not come here st> opportueJy, I should 
 have gone over to your residence, and fetched 
 yon." 
 
 Floret was overjoyed to hear this communi- 
 cation, and instantly accompanied Suean into 
 a room, in which she found Fanny seated with 
 Stephen and Harry Yere, who were conversing 
 wich her in low and gentle tones. 
 
 As Floret entered the room, the rich soft 
 bro<ra eyes of Fanny turned upon her ; she 
 
200 
 
 HAGAR LOT 
 
 half rote up with a cry of wonder and joy, and 
 reseated herself instantly as a feeling of disap- 
 pointment stole over her features. 
 
 FOP a moment only she covered her face 
 with her hands, and then removing them, she 
 rose up once more, and stood beside Floret 
 with a demeanor of deference and respect. 
 
 " Do you know me, Fanny ?" asked Floret, 
 half timidly. 
 
 " Know you I yes, Miss, I recognized your 
 features instantly. Could I ever forget them ?" 
 she replied, looking fondly yet still respect- 
 fully at her. 
 
 * '"Whose features do mine resemble ?" asked 
 Floret, breathlessly. 
 
 " Those of your lady- mother, Miss," con- 
 tinued Fanny, half thoughtfully, as she perused 
 Floret's lineaments. " Yet these words sound 
 strangely in my ear, although they fall from 
 my own lips. When last I beheld her, she 
 looked scarcely older than you as fair and 
 beautiful, only haughtier, prouder, more scorn- 
 ful in her expression." 
 
 "You speak of your foster-sister!" Bug- 
 
 tested Floret, with a wild palpitation of the 
 eart. 
 
 " I do, Miss, of my foster-sister whom I 
 loved as I did the breath of life," she answer- 
 ed, pensively ; " my foster-sister and your 
 mother!" 
 
 41 And her name?" pursued Floret, earn- 
 estly* 
 
 "The world then knew it as Constance 
 Edith Plantagenet," rejoined Fanny, musing- 
 ly ; " but I knew it as that of the Viscountess 
 Bertram." 
 
 " You were present at her marriage ?" con- 
 tinued Floret, hurriedly. 
 
 " I was, Miss," returned Fanny. 
 
 " And attached your name to the register, 
 as one of the witnesses ?" followed up Floret, 
 eagerly. 
 
 ' I did, Miss," she answered, readily. 
 
 Floret, wi.h trerabllisg fingers, produced the 
 paper which Liper Leper had placed in her 
 hands, and opening it, spread it before Fanny. 
 
 She pointed to her signature. 
 
 " Is that j our h&ndwritirg?" ehe asked, al- 
 most inaudibly. 
 
 Fanny looked at it attentively. 
 
 "It is," she replied, firmly. 
 
 " Thank Heaven V' ejaculated Floret, with a 
 deep eigh of relief. 
 
 " But, in Heaven's name, how came you pos- 
 sessed of that paper ? It was ia a large book 
 that I signed my name," eaclaiaaed Fanny, 
 with Burprice. 
 
 " You shall know all, shortly," responded 
 Floret. " I wish first of all to establish my 
 identity. You will aid me, will you not, ?" 
 
 ''With my whole heart," returned Fanny, 
 warmly. 
 
 "Do you remember my birth?" inquired 
 Fbret, wi.h faltering accents. 
 
 " O, well well I remember that dreadful 
 mg'it," she exclaimed ; and pausing, placed 
 her white, thin hand upon her brow. 
 
 Tiiey all kept a profound silence. 
 
 Presently Fanny raised her head, and fix- 
 ing her eye on vacancy, said, in a half-dreamy 
 tone: 
 
 " Her marriage was a secret one, and it soon 
 became a dreadful one to keep, for she knew 
 that she was about to become a mother, juefc 
 as she discovered that he who had seemed to 
 love her se> dearly, BO very dearly, had grown 
 cold and indifferent to her indifferent to her, 
 who had such a lefty, twering spirit, who 
 would not pass an unintended slight by me 
 without words of passionate resentment. She 
 formed the strange anl terrible design of con- 
 cealing the birth of her child. I appealed to 
 her ; I remonstrated with her ; but she rebuked 
 me with fierce and angry words. She struck 
 me in her passion, and then went on hep 
 knees, and with her arms about my neck, she 
 wept and sobbed wildly and hysterically. I 
 could only be silent and obey her directions. 
 We went at her wish to Beachborough. Hep 
 mother, the Lady Henrietta, objected, and she 
 stamped her foot at her; her father demurred, 
 and kim she did not answer, but she frowned 
 angrily a*; him, and ordered me to pack up 
 .her clothes and mine. Mr. Plantagenet and 
 the Lady Henrietta knew of our departure 
 only when we were more then half way there. 
 
 " Aod when we got to the abbey she select- 
 ed the most secret, retired, and gloomy cham- 
 bers to live in ; and elie sat close with me all 
 day, sewing and making clothes for the little 
 creature that was coming, and whom she hated 
 with a bitter, unnatural hate, even before it 
 came into the world." 
 
 Floret groaned ; .but she stifled as well as ehe 
 could the agony she experienced, for she 
 feared that if she interrupted Fanny in the 
 thread of her discourse, she might be unable to 
 rejoin the disjointed parts. 
 
 " At last the dreaded hour came," continued 
 Fanny, still in the easie low, earnest, and 
 thoughtful tcse. " It was a dreadful night, it 
 rained very heavily, and the wind howled, and 
 the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed 
 in sheets of flame. I went alone for the doc- 
 tor, he accompanied me back ; and in his pres- 
 ence, that of mine, and of God, only, was the 
 child born. TJie doctor placed it in rcy hands, 
 I attended to it9 first waars, and to those of 
 its wretched, Lelplecs mother. It was I who 
 shielded it in my erma when its mother re- 
 fused to look upon it, I who bore it to a 
 marse, who nourished it. I, who, upon m^ 
 knees placed ii before her, when she resolved 
 to part from it and from me forever, when she 
 extorted from ms 
 
 "My God!" 
 
 She uttered a scream, and fell suddenly upon 
 her knees. 
 
 " What have I done ! -<what have I done ! 
 O my God ! pardon me. I have violated my 
 cath to preserve thi?, her secret, sacredly, until 
 she herself or death absolved me from it. Go, 
 leave me," sbe cried, to Floret ; ''go, youh&vo 
 made me break oy vow." 
 
 She bowed her bead down upon the grou:d. 
 and wept; and trembled ccnraleively. 
 
OK, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 201 
 
 Stephen Vere caught her from the ground, 
 and folded her to his heart. 
 
 " Look up, Fanny, girl," he said, in a ten- 
 der, bufc very earnest voice ; " lock up, girl, 
 thee'st done no wrong. Thee hast parted with 
 thy love with reason nay, for a time thee 
 hast parted with 4hy life, to keep yon crea- 
 ture's sad secret. Thee hast done, girl, thy 
 duty by her nobly, bravely ; but thee hast a 
 duty, too, girl, to her who first rested in thy 
 arms in this world, whose first pressure wae 
 not to her own mother's bosom, but to thine, 
 thine, girl. Why, thou didst have charge of 
 her ; thou didst vow to thyself to protect 
 her, and be a mother to her; and thou wast 
 BO when all the world fell off from thee, when 
 even I a coward and a dog for losing faith 
 in thee fell away, too, and would have tried 
 to tear thy secret out of thy heart, even at 
 cost o' thy life an' mine. An' thou would'st 
 have been a mother to her still, had I not 
 carr'd thee cff, wouldst thee not? Thou 
 wouldst I know it. Wilt thee desert her 
 now, girl?" 
 
 He paused. Fanny still sobbed violently. 
 Stephen bent over ner and kissed her fore- 
 head. 
 
 " She has been all her life a poor girl, Fan- 
 ny," he continued, epeakiEg in earnest tones. 
 " A poor girl, my lass ; an' what do those 
 words convey to thy mind ? Why, struggles, 
 an' trials, an' temptationseverything but 
 happiness, or comfort, or peace. A poor girl ; 
 Fanny, the words go to nay heart when I hear 
 thezn, an' I wish that I could do what my soul 
 yearns to do, and wealth would help me to do, 
 there should not be a poor eirl IB all the 
 world." 
 
 Fanny only sobbed more bitterly. 
 
 Stephen gazed earnestly at her, and con- 
 tinued: 
 
 " Why, Fanny, that young and delicate crea- 
 ture there, gentle born, has been bred as a 
 poor girl a poor, shoeless girl. She, with a 
 mother in a palace, an' a father in a castle, has 
 been paddUn' on the bare, cold, wet ground 
 without a coverieg to her feet. She be a poor 
 girl still. Wilt thee, girl, for the sake of 
 maintaining a weak promise made to a hard- 
 hearted woman, doom this" he raised his 
 eyes to Floret aa he spoke, and she eaw that, 
 they were clouded with tears " bright and 
 beautiful youcg lady to be a poor girl to the 
 end of her days ? Wilt thee do this. Fanny, an' 
 -.an' keep my love for thee, too?" 
 
 Fanny seemed convulsed by her emotion ; 
 but she raised her head and gazed upon Floret 
 with streaming eyes, and, sinking upon her 
 knees at her feet, cried : 
 
 "Take me to her, to Mies ConstaEce the 
 Viscountess Bertram, God knowa what now 
 taka me to her ! I will pray to her I will 
 clasp her knees I will not leave her until she 
 has absolved me frcm my oath !" 
 
 Floret raised her from her suppliant pos- 
 ture, and, twining her arraa about iicr, wins- 
 pered tenderly in her ear : 
 
 "Compose yourself, dear Fanny. Calm 
 
 your feelings, and; when you are stronger and 
 better, we will together proceed to her." 
 
 "Now," shall it be!" exclaimed Fanny, re- 
 leasing herself forcibly from Floret's embrace. 
 " Not a day not an hoar shall pass without 
 my presenting myself before her. Susan, 
 give me my bonnet and my shawl, I will go 
 now !" 
 
 Before Susan could answer her, she hurried 
 into her bedchamber, and reappeared almost 
 immediately, dressed for the street. 
 
 "Come," she said, hurriedly, to Floret. 
 "Come; I know the way to Plantsgenet 
 House." 
 
 " Gently, girl," interrupted Stephen, sooth- 
 ingly ; " thee'rt exciting tbyself too much." 
 
 "fro, Stephen," she cried, "I am not mad 
 now. I have a duty to perform ; you have 
 said that I have, and I will do it. Come 
 come I" 
 
 As she spoke, she dragged Floret rather 
 than led her from the room. 
 
 Stephen Vere caught up his hat and slo\?]y 
 followed them. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI; 
 
 <c Gold glitters most where virtue shines no more ; 
 As stars from absent sutis have leave to shine. 
 0, what a pretiouspack cf votaries 
 Uckennel'd frcm the prisons, and the stews, 
 Pour in, all opening in their idol's praise ; 
 All, ardent, eye each wafture of her hand. 
 And, wide expanding their voracious jaws, 
 Morsel on morsel swallow down unchew'd, 
 Untasted, through mad appetite for more ; 
 Gorg'd tD tlie throat, yefc lean asd ravenous still. 
 Sagacious all, to trace the excaUest game, 
 Aad bold to seize the greatest." YOUNG. 
 
 The Marchioness of Westchester, gfter her 
 interview with Floret, and her subsequent 
 scene with the Marquis, in which her contend- 
 ing emotions had forced her into a hysteric- 
 al fit, felt her position to be intolerable. 
 
 Possessed naturally of an order of mind in 
 wLich obstinacy is but too frequently mis- 
 taken for firmness, she had for v ^ toically 
 submitted to a species of B^ ^.onnolation for 
 an idea. 
 
 No woman can bear to be slighted by any 
 man with equanimity. Scornful indifference 
 from members of her own eex she is Lever un- 
 prepared to receive, acd ehe invariably re- 
 gards them with a sovereign contempt ; but a 
 slight from a man is a elur upon her personal 
 attractions and winning qualifications as a 
 woman ; and it stings lier, because it wounds 
 her pride. 
 
 She instantly hates the man who offers ii ; 
 and if she can return the coropliment, she will 
 never hesitate to doit ; or if she can offer re- 
 marks calculated to wound his vanity, and 
 which she knows will reach his ears, she will 
 assuredly give him the full benefit of them. 
 But there it ends. 
 
 There is a difference, and a marked one, in 
 the case where the woman loves the man who 
 slights her. She ia then not content with o 
 mere retort. She resents. She is spiteful, 
 TiciouB, pauses at nothing to be avergtd, even 
 
202 
 
 EAGAPw LOT ; 
 
 if when successful she weeps the bitterest tears 
 at her own success. No rules are without ex- 
 ceptions, but we believe that what we here as- 
 Bert ia only too true of the majority of the 
 sex, and is the result of the delicate charac- 
 ter of their organization, which renders them 
 easily excitable, too prone to see and imagine 
 things which have no foundation in truth, and 
 to act upon hastily-formed conception?, even 
 to their own unhappy default. 
 
 This was the shoal upon which the Mar- 
 chioness ran her back, which, at the outset of 
 her life, was freighted with happiness, and 
 wrecked it. 
 
 She was possessed not only of a keen con- 
 stsiou-nesa of her beauty, both of feature 
 and form, but of a proud sense of her descent 
 and her position. She felt nay, she knew, 
 that she was in herself a prize that any man 
 would be enraptured to secare; and she made 
 no allowance for the fact that possession very 
 much modifies the enthusiasm which is em- 
 ployed in obtaining it. 
 
 In the true, genuine spirit of a woman's love, 
 she gave herself heart, soul, life, happiness, 
 all that was, indeed, combined within herself, 
 an 1 which she had to bestow to Bertram, a&d 
 without a reserve. 
 
 She believed, without a single misgiving, 
 that to him she was what he had incessantly 
 declared her to be the one sole object which 
 could make life a paradise. "When, therefore, 
 ehe, after their union, found him to be less 
 profuse than he had been, not only in his ex- 
 pressions, but in his acts of endearment, that 
 he did not bow with such unreserved submis- 
 sion to every caprice she had formed, and that 
 he remonstrated where he had before yielded 
 with a fond smile and without a sign of dis- 
 sent, her pride took alarm. 
 
 When to these unsatisfactory symptoms he 
 displayed apathy and listlessness in her pres- 
 ence, instead of that enchanted rapture which 
 had distinguished every gesture he made to 
 her, she at once imagined that his love had 
 changed into indifference, nay, that he had 
 never loved ner at all. That, being older and 
 more experienced than horeelf, he, having 
 been smitten by her personal charms, had 
 lured her into an attachment for him, and had 
 tricked, cheated, deceived her. Nay, more, 
 ehe believed that he had grown tired of her 
 of her! 
 
 Upon this supposition she had acted through- 
 out until within a recent period. It had sus- 
 tained her in her dreariest and saddest mo- 
 mentsit had fortified her when she found 
 that the chain which fastened her to the Mar- 
 quis of Westchester, and which she had her- 
 self riveted, galled her the most bitterly ; and 
 it might, nay, it would, have borne her on to 
 the end, if incidents, which she had not fore- 
 seen, and upon which she had never calculated, 
 had not arisen and compelled her to examine 
 Be.riouely into the past, struggle with the pres- 
 ent, and reflect with diemay~upon her future. 
 
 The conduct of Bertram during the last few 
 years, his asseverations of unaltered love, and 
 
 his professions of perpetual tenderness and 
 affection in the future, weakened her belief in 
 the correctness of the assumption she had 
 originally formed, and prepared the way for a 
 new impression, which rather urged "her to 
 imagine that it was she who had changed, not 
 he. That, under, the prjesure of a tie, the 
 concealment of which rendered it irksome to 
 her, she became unreasonably exacting, and 
 because he did not once respond to her exag- 
 gerated claims upon his attachment, and his 
 already blind submission, he had, therefore, 
 grown'indifferent to her. That, in fact, it was 
 f he who had been wrong from the commence- 
 ment, not he, and that she alone was to blame 
 for all that had happened. 
 ^ It may easily be conceived with what pas- 
 sionate regrets and self reproaches ehe now 
 looked upon the past how she loathed the 
 chain which confined to the Marquis how she 
 longed to break it asunder, and, falling in 
 with Bertram's views, at laet determined to 
 throw off her shackles, and fly with him to 
 some place where, in calm and peaceful retire- 
 ment, they might end their days happily to- 
 gether. 
 
 Like most guilty persons, she made mental 
 arrangements, when preparing to quit the 
 scenes of her wrong-doing, by which ehe ex- 
 pected to pass the remainder of her alloted 
 term in the undisturbed enjoyment of serene 
 happiness, 
 
 But it is God who disposes. 
 
 Her laet interviews with Floret and the Mar- 
 quis decided her previously wavering mind, 
 and she resolved to accept Bertram's proposi- 
 tion, and fly with him. 
 
 She saw that the discovery of the huge im- 
 position which die had so long kept up was 
 close at hand. The Marquis already knew 
 much ; and the investigations, which Ehe was 
 aware he was pursuing, would reveal to him 
 more. Floret, too, her counterpart ia form 
 and feature, hovered and flitted about her like 
 a spectre, and her origin it would be impossi- 
 ble much longer to conceal. She now dia 
 trusted Hagar Lot ; and her hopes of success* 
 fully braving out the storm which had already 
 commenced to pour its destructive fire upon 
 her, departed with the physical strength which 
 the energy requisite to face her difficulties 
 would have demanded. She was overwhelmed 
 by the threatening repect of the circumstance 
 which surrounded ner. She was aware that 
 actual proof rested solely on Fanny Shelley, 
 and ehe believed her to be dead ; but she had 
 not the strength and firmness now to meet and 
 defy accusations and charges- supported by 
 witnesses who could testify very nearly to the 
 real truth, and, therefore, she came to the con- 
 clueion that she would fling aside her coronet 
 so long falsely worn, and cling for the re- 
 mainder of her life to her legitimate husband 
 to him whom, before the altar of God, she 
 had sworn to love, to honor, find to obey, and 
 to whom now only ehe proposed to keep sa- 
 cred that vow. j 
 
 It waa with the intention, of imparliog to 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 203 
 
 him her resolution that she instructed her 
 woman, Fane, to convey to him, through the 
 medium of his groom, the intimation that she 
 should be present at the Countess cf New- 
 market's reception. 
 
 She knew that when he received this hint he 
 would not fail to meet her there ; she wascon- 
 acioua that she waa incurring a great risk by 
 making this assignation wilh him ; but, then, 
 her situation was desperate, and desperate dis- 
 eases require desperate remedies. 
 
 She, however, on the other hand, assured 
 herself that the Marquis would not be pres- 
 ent, and that he would entertain no suspicion 
 in consequence of her recent illness that she 
 would go, although she resolved to do so, 
 whether he knew it or not to brave and dare 
 anj thing, indeed, in order to carry out her 
 object. 
 
 Than she reasoned, too, that in such a nu- 
 merous assemblage the mere circumstance of 
 her meeting and speaking a lew words to the 
 Earl of Brackleigh would not excite notice. 
 She had arranged in her own mind the few 
 words that would suffice to acquaint him that 
 she yielded to his suit ; that she was ready to 
 return to her allegiance to him, and to fly the 
 country at any moment. She expected him 
 to .make all the necessary arrangements. A 
 few moments' conversation, and she anticipat- 
 ed the whole thing would be managed. 
 
 We have seen that she was deceived in her 
 anticipations, but the was not prevented car- 
 rying out her design. She was certainly pet- 
 rified with amazement to meet Floret in such 
 an august assembly astonished to see her 
 dressed in a robe exactly like hfer own, and 
 glittering with diamonds wbieh, in magnifi- 
 cence and value, far surpassed her own. 
 
 At the first glance, s-he regarded her only 
 as a young and exquisitely lovely gkl of high 
 birth just entering Hfe ; and for the moment a 
 feeling of pity passed through her breast that 
 such a young and radiant creature should ever 
 awaken to the knowledge that the paradise on 
 the threshold of which she believed herself to 
 be, was but a hollow sham, a mockery, a de- 
 lusion, a snare. 
 
 Almost at the same moment, she became 
 conscious that she was gazing upon the face 
 into the eyes of her own child her unacknowl- 
 edged, discarded, disowned child. There, too, 
 in the very heart of the circle in which she 
 had moved as a creature without taint. 
 
 She could not permit herself to shrink, to 
 cower, to faint, or to utter the anathema which 
 rose to her lips. She could only take refuge 
 in the cold stare with which aristocracy crush- 
 es, or believes that it can crush, whatever it 
 may please to consider presumption, and pass 
 on. 
 
 Another moment, and blindness seemed to 
 have fallen npon her ; she tottered and sank 
 upon a eeat ; she knew not in what part of the 
 room or among what people she had fallen. 
 She heard the buzz of voices, the shuffling of 
 feet ; she felt the heat, and was conscious of 
 the odor of exotics. She heard words ad- ' 
 
 dressed to her, without recognizing their im- 
 port, and then she grew conscious that it was 
 imperative that she should meke an effort* 
 and be actually as calm and as cold as she 
 then looked. 
 
 The first sense that she was able to control 
 was the power of vision, and she cast her eyes 
 nervously about her. 
 
 Not far from her, with pale face, but look- 
 ing in her eyes almost as ypung, and certain- 
 ty as handsome, if net handsomer than ever, 
 she saw the Earl of Brackleigh. 
 
 He was leaning with an affectation of listless 
 indolence which seemed to be natural to him 
 turning his ^eyea slowly by turn? upon the 
 face of every woman within their range, but 
 not permitting them to rest for an instant upon 
 one. 
 
 The Marchioness bent her eyes upon his, 
 and gazed intently upon him ; and, whether 
 there be truth or not in the assertion that 
 sympathetic action takes place at the power of 
 the will, as electro-biologists assert, it is at 
 least certain that the Eairl instantly turned bia 
 face round, and looked directly at her. 
 
 She made a eign, and moved toward the 
 door of a conservatory near to her ; he ob- 
 served it, and strolled listlessly, and apparent" 
 ly without motive, in the same direction. 
 They met ; a few words cf salutation passed ; 
 he bent over the magnificent bouquet which 
 she hld in her hand, and she spoke to him a 
 few words rapidly, in a very low tone, but 
 heard distinctly by him. She then apoke of 
 Floret; bade him contrive to have her ex- 
 pelled in some humiliating form, and as she 
 coEclnded, her eye caught sight of the Mar- 
 quis of Westchester glaring at her from a dis- 
 tance. 
 
 She saw the flash of his vindictive eye, and 
 an exclamation escaped her lips, to arrest the 
 Earl of Brackleigh, so that he should not 
 move in the direction in which the Marquis 
 was standing; but^t was uttered too late 
 the Earl had moved away. 
 
 For a minute or two, she gazed breathless- 
 ly at the Mar qui a as the Esrl drew near to 
 him. Her vision seemed to be sharpened ; 
 she saw with frightful distinctness the expres- 
 sion upon the face of the Marquis, that it 
 meant insult, outrage, murder to the man ap- 
 proaching him. 
 
 By a powerful impulse, she was urged to 
 hurry forward, and step between them ; but 
 she felt paralyzed, bound, manacled, tongue 
 and limbs ; she had neither voice nor power 
 to move ; and, even if she had, ehe knew tha'- 
 at this moment she dared not. 
 
 She could see there was a commotion. It 
 was very slight ; there was no noise, no angry 
 gesture, no disturbance. Then the Marquis 
 suddenly moved toward her. 
 
 She was then released from the spell which 
 had chained her to the spot, and she moved 
 a wifely away. 
 
 Moved still like a queen, but feeling like tho 
 veriest wretch that ever crawled upon the 
 face of the earth. 
 
294 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 Fortune befriended her in her escape. An 
 opening waa made in the crowd, still pouring 
 up the staircase, for a lady who had slipped 
 and eprained her ankle severely while ascend- 
 ing the stairs. She followed her closely, as 
 she was borne down, and her carriage fortu- 
 nately happened to be where it was quickly 
 enabled to draw up, on being called ; and it 
 conveyed her rapidly home. 
 
 Ere she reached her apartments, she was 
 met by her woman, Face, who followed her to 
 her chamber, and as soon as she closed the 
 doer behind her, she informed her that the 
 Marquis had not long since followed her to 
 the Countess of Newmarket's. 
 
 The Marchioness replied in a sharp, short, 
 tone, that she was acquainted with the fact. 
 
 " Do you also know, my lady," added Fane, 
 meekly, " that Captaia Parrot, of the Syd- 
 ney Mounted Rifles, is in my Lord's study?" 
 
 The Marchioness turned quickly to her, and 
 ejaculated with surprise : " Where ?" 
 
 Fane repeated her words, and continuing, 
 said: 
 
 " My Lord sent for me immediately after 
 your ladyship had departed ; and while he was 
 trying to worm out of me anything about 
 your ladyship which he considered that he 
 ought to knew " 
 
 "Pitiful! contemptible!" ejaculated the 
 Marchioness, scornfully. 
 
 " One of the men-servants announced Cap- 
 tain Parrott," pursued Fane. " I would not 
 leave the room, although my Lord seemed 
 much disturbed by his arrival, until I had a 
 good look at him, so that I should know him 
 again ; and I expect I shall very soon know 
 where to find him if he should be want- 
 ed." 
 
 " Is he locked in the apartment-?" inquired 
 the Marchioness. 
 
 * Jtfo, my lady ; but my Lord's valet is watch- 
 ing, the door," returned Fane. 
 
 The Marchioness mused for a minute. 
 
 Fane watched her features anxiously, and 
 then added : 
 
 "1 know how to draw the yalet away from 
 the door for a few minutes, if your ladyship 
 should wish to question Captain Parrot a lit 
 tie without anybody knowing it ?" 
 
 *'I do, Fane," returned the Marchioness, 
 quickly. 
 
 " If your ladyship will proceed to the study, 
 in three cr four minutes from this you will 
 find no one near the approach to it,'" she re- 
 joined. 
 
 The Marchioness bent her head, and the 
 girl glided away. 
 
 The Marchioness unlocked a drawer, and 
 took from thence a well- filled purse, and pro- 
 ceeded slowly to the study of the Marquis. 
 
 Fane had kept her word ; there was no sign 
 of the Marquis's valet on her way to the room 
 in which Captain Parrot was seated. 
 
 She opened the door noiselessly, and closed 
 it behind her. She passed a small bolt which 
 was under the lock into tbe catch, and then 
 he turned her eyes upon Captain Parrot. 
 
 He was seated with his back toward her bj 
 a table, with his feet upon a chair ; a yellojf 
 silk handkerchief was laid carefully across his 
 knees ; at his elbow was a decanter, with a 
 small quantity of port wine in it, and in his 
 hand was a glass filled with the "generous 
 liquid", which he was holding up between the 
 lamp and one eye, the other being carefully 
 closed. lie was examining the light, fleecy 
 wing which was floating in the wine in very 
 commendable quantity. 
 
 " I am happy to inform you!" exclaimed 
 the Captain, addressing vacancy, not having 
 heard the Marchioness enter, and being quite 
 unconscious that he had an auditor, " that 
 the wine continues of the same excellence &a 
 per last, and now, gentlemen, what shall we 
 say ? What shall we say with this good wine, 
 bubbling, foaming, glistening, sparkling, at 
 our lips, inviting us to swallow the pearl 
 necklace which floats upon its edge so tempt- 
 ingly ? Well, since you leave it to me, I will 
 give you, for the sixth time I like to be 
 grateful remember, gentlemen, this is ft 
 bumper toast, and that, when the wine is out, 
 we can ring for more a whether we get it 
 or not. I say, gentlemen, I will give you, for 
 the sixth time, the immortal adoration of that 
 pretty little creature, who smiled so bewitch- 
 ingly upon me as I entered this chamber. 
 Bumpers, gentlemen : May we hold in our 
 arms those we love in our hearts. Aha I No 
 heeltaps, you will please to observe," he 
 added, as he emptied his glass, and then turned 
 it with its foot uppermost He refilled it. 
 
 " What should I have done," he continued, 
 soliloquizing ; " what should I have done, 
 gentlemen, in this dnil room, but for your 
 pleasant company, some of this magnificent 
 old port, and the memory of that fascinating 
 little witch who greeted me, on my arrival 
 here, with the smiling aspect of a beneficent 
 fairy? Would that she were here now, and 
 were to steal gently mp to me, and whisper in 
 my ear: 
 
 " You are Captain Parrot, of the Sydney 
 Mounted Rifles !" exclaimed the Marchioness, 
 in her silvery voice, but in her sternest and 
 haughtiest tones. 
 
 Tiie Captain turned his head sharply, and 
 sprang to his feet. 
 
 Before him stood a beautiful and command- 
 ing woman, exquisitely dressed, and glittering 
 with diamonds. 
 
 He had no doubt who it was who stood be- 
 fore him ; but he had a strong miegiving re- 
 specting her object in seeking him. 
 
 He gave a sickly smile, bowed low, and 
 asked, instead of replying : 
 
 "Pardon me, Madam; whom have I the 
 honor of addressing ?" 
 
 " For tae time being, I am the Marchioness 
 of Westchester," she replied, in the same 
 haughty tote ; ;< bet let me, at the outset, 
 suggest to you that I came here to question, 
 not to be questioned. You will, therefore, be 
 BO good as to reply to the question that I have 
 put to you." 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 205 
 
 "I am Captain Parrot, my lady," he re- 
 plied, in a somewhat meek tone. 
 
 " It is not your real name," ehe rejoined ; 
 " let me know what that is." 
 
 He looked at her with surprise, and remained 
 silent. 
 
 She frowned at him, and added, sternly : 
 
 " I have not time for paltering or evasion. 
 Tonr object in coming here is, to obtain money 
 the means by which you design- to extort it 
 is, the possession of a secret. "This purse is 
 fall of gold; if yon can answer the few ques- 
 tions, honestly and truthfully, which I shall 
 put to you, it is yours ; if you refuse, it will 
 be withdrawn, and a mode adopted to compel 
 you to speak, which will be quite effectual, 
 but less gratifying to you in its result. What 
 is your real name ?" 
 
 The pseudo captain still hesitated ; he gazed 
 at her with a furtive but searching look of 
 inquiry. There was an air of desperate deter- 
 mination upon her face, of which he did not 
 approve ; but he asked himself, if he yielded 
 to her pressure, what would the Marquis say 
 and do ? Where would be the value of the 
 secret upon which he set such a price ? He 
 felt himself to be in an awkward predicament. 
 
 The Marchioness laid her hand upon the 
 bell. 
 
 "Will you answer me?" she said, with a 
 haughty frown. " What is your real name ?" 
 
 "Matthew Warlock," he replied, quickly, 
 fastening his eyes obliquely upon the puree. 
 
 " You were a corporal in the Second Regi- 
 ment of Life Guards when the Marquis of 
 Westchester was one of its captains?" she 
 pursued. 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 "And was his regimental servant?" she 
 added. 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 "And jackal!" she said, with scornful, sar- 
 castic bitterness. 
 . He raised his head and one hand, deprecat- 
 
 " You were such, and by your own confes- 
 sion !" she exclaimed, emphatically. " I have 
 pei-used your recent letter to the Marquis." 
 
 The Captain waxed white. His back opened 
 and ehut. 
 
 " The contents of that letter are true," she 
 subjoined. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. What was he 
 to say to secura e\en a fraction of reward ? 
 
 "You cannot deny it." she continued,. as 
 Bhe saw he was casting about for an answer 
 " Your letter was a private communication to 
 your former master. You declared yourself 
 to have been, at one time, the person in whom 
 he reposed his secret confidence. You would 
 not, in order to bring him to your terms, 
 write to him privately a tissue of lies, which he 
 could not fail to know would be such. I may, 
 therefore, justly conclude that, in your com- 
 munication to the Marquis, you have stated 
 nothing short of the truth. Ney, tell me the 
 date of the marriage between Captain Wolver- 
 ton and Ada Vian." 
 
 Captain Parrot appeared perfectly bewil- 
 dered and confounded ; but the Marchioness 
 repeated her questions sharply, and he an- 
 swered, with embarrassment : 
 
 " I I must consult my pocket-book." 
 
 " Consult it," she said, briefly, but sternly. 
 
 He pulled out, from an inner pocket in hie 
 military frock-coat, a well-worn pocket-feeok, 
 and, opening it, fumbled over its contents. 
 
 "Quick!" she ejaculated, emphatically. 
 " Time is precious to me." 
 
 " It was upon the 10th of February, 1831," 
 he answered, hastily. 
 
 " Where di&the ceremony take place ?" 
 
 " Prince's-court Chapel, Pall Mall." 
 
 " The clergyman's name ?" 
 
 " The Rev. E. K. Meanwell." 
 
 " Where is he to be found now?"' 
 
 " He is the Rector of Allhallows, Barking." 
 
 " What is the name of your brother?" 
 
 "Walter Warlock." 
 
 "His address? 
 
 "Ahem!" 
 
 " No hesitation now, man. You have pro- 
 ceeded too far; you cannot halt. His ad- 
 dress?" 
 
 "Ho. 7 Brick court, Temple." 
 
 " The name of the friends of Ada Vian, 
 who is the rightful Marchioness of West- 
 Chester?" 
 
 "Lady Susan Vaughan, No. 123 Eaton 
 square." 
 
 " There is a child, you say ?" 
 
 " Yes, my lady a girl." 
 
 "Where was she placed ?" 
 
 " In Yorkshire." 
 
 "What part?" 
 
 " Ugglebarnby House, Ugglebarnby, York- 
 shire." 
 
 " Where ?" almost screamed the Marchion- 
 ess, with sudden surprise. 
 
 Warlock repeated the address. 
 
 The Marchioness turned away and paced 
 the room. 
 
 It was the same address as that to which 
 Hagar Lot had conveyed Floret. 
 
 They must have met, and have been partly 
 brought up together. She bent her head. It 
 was surely the hand of Heavea working out 
 its own solution of the strange drama she had 
 woven, the denouement of which she had striv- 
 en, and and was now striving to control. 
 
 Captain Parrot, who watched her cloeely. 
 ws at a loss to comprehend what had occa- 
 sioned this sudden emotion, and attributed it 
 rather to the signs of a disbelief in what he 
 had stated. He, therefore, not only again re- 
 peated the address, but the names of the sis- 
 ters Blixenfiaik. 
 
 The Marchioness waved her hand impatient- 
 ly, and added : 
 
 " Where is that girl now ?" 
 
 " There, for atight I know, my lady," he 
 replied. " The fact can soon be ascertained." 
 
 She drew a deep breath, and then said : 
 
 " It is a matter of no importance to me. It 
 is sufficient for me that I am acquainted with 
 the circumstance that there waa isene to the 
 
20G 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 marriage to which we have been referring, and 
 that it is to be produced, if reqnired." 
 
 " Certainly, my lady," responded Captain 
 Parrot. 
 
 The Marchioness had made notes of the in- 
 formation which the Captain had communi- 
 cated to her, and she went once more over each 
 item, the correctness of which he vouched. 
 She then said : 
 
 " I have no. more questions to put to you. 
 There is the purse ; yon can inform the Mar- 
 quis upon his return of this interview or not, 
 as you may consider most conducive to your 
 interests. I shall not volunteer the statement 
 that I received this communication through 
 you. I wiH merely remark, fool, that the 
 greatest reward you can hope to expect will 
 be paid to yon by the friends of the woman 
 who has been deserted, when, by your aid, she 
 ia' restored to her position as Marchioness of 
 "Westehester." 
 
 She tossed him the purse as she concluded, 
 and, with her usual haughty mien, departed 
 from the room without noticing the low bow 
 which he made to her. 
 
 . He followed her to the door, and after she 
 disappeared, opened it gently, for she had 
 closed it behind her, looked into the room be- 
 yond, but without seeing any one. He reclos- 
 ed the door, and returned to the table and 
 opened the purse, so that the light of the 
 lamp feH full upon its contents there were 
 sovereigns and notes crammed together, and 
 his heart leaped at the sight. 
 
 fie closed the purse and placed it in the 
 very lowest depths of his breast-pocket, and 
 then he filled up his glass with one more bump- 
 er of port. 
 
 He glanced round the room, to assure him- 
 self that he was alone, and being certain that 
 no one was near to listen to him, he exclaim- 
 ed, with seeming self-possession, although he 
 was still in a perspiration from fright and 
 Bonder at the unexpected visit of the Mar- 
 chioness : 
 
 * You will permit me to observe, gentle- 
 men, that I think this world, taken as a whole, 
 a very good world. It bas its dark sides, but 
 it has its bright sides. Have we not here a 
 healthy example?'' he slapped the spot where 
 the purse reposed as he spoke ; " I drink its 
 health. I drink the health of the woman who 
 has left me. I drink to the health of She sug- 
 gestion she has given me. I drink to the 
 health of the Lauy Susan Vaughan, who is 
 about to bestow upon me a fortune. I drink 
 to the health of the Marquis of Westchester, 
 who is about to lose a wife, for which he ought 
 and will pay me. I drink to the health of the 
 the wjfe, who will, through me soon sit here 
 in regal state, for which the Marquis will not 
 pay me, but she will. I drink to the health of 
 myself, SB a devilish cunning fellow ; and I 
 driiuk the health of you, gentlemen, all round, 
 no exceptions and no heeltaps hah :" 
 
 He attacked his lips as he concluded, and 
 then put down the glass with a sudden dash, 
 for the door at that moment was flung wide 
 
 open, and the Marquis entered, looking even 
 whiter and sterner than when he departed. 
 
 He glanced fiercely round the apartment. 
 
 " Where is my valet ?" he said sharply. 
 
 " I do not knew, my Lord," returned Cap- 
 taia Parrot. " He brought to me a decanter 
 with a little wine in it, and went away without 
 speaking a word. I have not seen him since." 
 
 " I ordered him not to leave the adjoining 
 apartment," exclaimed the Marquis, with a 
 vexed air. 
 
 u I've not been out of this room," suggested 
 Captain Parrot. 
 
 The Marquis mused for a minute or two, 
 and then said to his visitor : 
 
 " You must leave me, "Warlock, and take an- 
 other opportunity of seeing me ; it is wholly 
 impossible for me to pay any attention to yon 
 now." 
 
 " But, my Lord, mine is not a common busi- 
 ness, permit me to remind you," urged the 
 Captain. 
 
 " I say it is," exclaimed the Marquis, quick- 
 ly. " You came here to extort money yon 
 seek to make me bribe you to keep my secret* 
 There is nothing uncommon in that ; but I am 
 in that position that, at this moment, I care 
 not whether you keep the reveal it. It is 
 infinitely of more importance to me that you 
 should go now." 
 
 He went to a drawer and took from it a 
 small note- case. It contained a number of 
 bank-notes, and he selected one, which he hand- 
 ed to the Captain, and said : 
 
 " Take that ; it will more than suffice for 
 your present wants. Return to me in a few 
 days. I shall then be in a condition to listen 
 to you, or be beyond the necessity of listening 
 to you or your secret. Go !" 
 
 The Captain saw that the corner of the note 
 had a black device, in which were several 
 white letters, and he felt for the moment satis- 
 fied. He accepted it with a gracious air,* 
 folded it up, and placed it in his waistcoat 
 pocket. ^ 
 
 The Marquis rang his bell sharply, and MB 
 valet promptly appeared. 
 
 " Show this person out," he said, coldly. 
 
 "Good night, my Lord, 1 ' exclaimed the 
 Captain. The Marquis bowed stiffly, and the 
 Captain and the valet disappeared. 
 
 " I must see her," burst from the lips of the 
 Marquis, as the door of the room closed. " I 
 must see her. I will. I must come to some 
 decided, positive, and determinate arrange- 
 ment with her. She shall not foil, elude, es- 
 cape me. She must be mine under any name. 
 "Wife, mistress, slave she shall be mine. I 
 cannot endure this torture; damnation can 
 have no pangs to equal the agonies which con- 
 vulse me. She shall never be his. Ifo no ! 
 I'll *lay him. He shall never leave the point 
 of my weapon with life even fluttering in his 
 heart. O woman, woman, what will yon 
 have to answer for if you repulse me as you 
 have hitherto done ?" 
 
 He took from a cabinet a key, and then pas- 
 sing through a euite of rooms he paused be- 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 207 
 
 fore a door, unlocked it swiftly, and entered 
 the room to which it gave ingress. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 " See kow all around them wait 
 The ministers of human fate, 
 And black Misfortune's train I" GRAY. 
 
 The Marquis, without intending to to do so, 
 had opened the door without noise ; the locks 
 were in such perfect order, and the hinges so 
 well oiled, that each performed its part with- 
 out giving forth a sound- 
 He flaw that the Marchioness had evidently 
 just finished changing" her evening dress not, 
 as he expected, for a wrapper, but for a walk- 
 ing dress. 
 
 The room appeared to be in confusion. 
 
 Fane was occupied, under the directions of 
 the Marchioness, in clearing some cabinets of 
 various articles, souvenirs and treasures of re- 
 membrance, bijouterie, and other such things ; 
 and an assistant maid was busily engaged in 
 packing them in some traveling- cases. Dress- 
 es were strewn upon the floor, and there were 
 portmanteaus and traveling- bags, dressing- 
 cases, and other evidences of departure, in 
 various spots, ready to be filled. 
 
 The Marquis gazed at these signs of prepa- 
 ration aghast. 
 
 For the moment he was deprived of the 
 power of speech, but recovering himself, he 
 advanced to the centre of the room, and, ad- 
 dressing the Marchioness, exclaimed : 
 
 " What is the meaning of all this prepara- 
 tion ?" 
 
 The Marchioness turned round hastily, and 
 started when she beheld him. She, however, 
 drew herself up to her full height, regarded 
 him with a cold frown, and said : 
 
 ' My Lord Marquis of Westchester, this is 
 my private chamber. How dare you insult 
 me by intruding here ?" 
 
 " Lady Westchester madam woman," he 
 cried, passionately ; " you are my wife, and 
 no place in which you may be can be sacred 
 from me." 
 
 " Lord Weetchester, I am not your wife," 
 she returned, in the same tone. " Your un- 
 wished- for intrusion here is, therefore, an in- 
 sult to me." 
 
 He started as her words, spoken emphati- 
 cally, caught his ear ; and he turned hastily to 
 the two young women, who, both having 
 caught her remark,4ooked upon her with sur- 
 prise, and said : 
 
 " Leave the room." 
 
 " I bid you stay," responded the Marchion- 
 ess. " You are my servants, and under my 
 control. I forbid your departure, but com- 
 mand you to proceed with the tasks which I 
 have set you, and complete them." 
 
 She turned to the Marquis, and said : 
 
 *' I am not Lady Westchester. I never have 
 been : you know it I know it. I again re- 
 peat that you have no right in this chamber, 
 and I will not permit you to remain within it 
 for an instant. If yo* desire that I should 
 listen to any remarks you may be anxious to 
 
 make to me, they muet be spoken in some 
 other part of the building not here. Retire, 
 I will attend you." 
 
 With such a commencement as this, the 
 Marquis knew not what course to pursue. He 
 saw that she was resolute, and would not pause 
 in creating a scene if he sought to enforce hia 
 command to Fane and her companion to Isave 
 the apartment. Perhaps, after all, he thought 
 it would be better that the struggle for su- 
 premacy, which he knew must take place be- 
 tween them, should be gone through ia his 
 study; he, therefore,assuming an air of haughty 
 superiority and self- command, which he in- 
 tended should serve as a reflection upon her 
 conduct to him, said : 
 
 " You speak, Madam, like one laboring un- 
 der a derangement of the intellect. K you 
 will forget what is due to your own dignity, it 
 becomes necessary that I, at least, should re- 
 member it. You will, therefore, please to ac- 
 company me to my study, and there, at least,, 
 I shall be certain of being secure from audi- 
 tors, whose presence, under any circumstances 
 but those in which their services become & 
 necessity, is an impertinence." 
 
 He stalked away as he spoke, and passe J 
 through the door by which he had entered. 
 
 He turned once to see whether the Mar- 
 chioness was following him. She waved her 
 hand with an imperious but patient gusture,. 
 and he went on. 
 
 The Marchioness said to Fane : 
 
 " Proceed with your task ; fulfill my instruc- 
 tions to the letter. I shall not sleep beneath 
 this roof to-night." 
 
 As she concluded, she followed the Marquis 
 to his study. 
 
 As she passed through the darkened room, 
 a tall figure rose up from the deep shadow of 
 a recess, and glided after her. 
 
 The Marchioness entered the study, and 
 saw the Marquis plated by a table, upon 
 which hia head was laid, shielded by his arms. 
 
 She stood and contemplated him for a 
 minute without speaking, and during her 
 steadfast gaze he did not raise his head. 
 
 But the shadowy figure, which had flitted 
 with soundless steps at her heels, moved, 
 swiftly and silently, through a massive velvet 
 curtain which had been dTawn across the win- 
 dow. 
 
 At length the Marchioness, apparently un- 
 moved by the emotion which the Marquis, 
 without doubt, unaffectedly displayed, said, in 
 a cold but distant tone . 
 
 "I am here. What have you to aay to 
 me?" 
 
 He sprang to his feet as though she had 
 discharged a pistol in hia ear. 
 
 He had expected her, but not, perhaps, BO 
 soon. 
 
 Hot tears were glistening upon his cheeks, 
 but he dashed them violently away. It was a 
 minute or so before he could speak in anything 
 like a firm tone. Then he said, in a low 
 voice : 
 
 "Madam, since we stood at the altar to- 
 
208 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 gether, at DO lengthened period after I first 
 saw you, we have never been in that relation 
 to each other in which a clear and frank un- 
 derstanding would have placed UK." 
 
 "We have not !" she rejoined, with a pecu- 
 liar ere phaeis. 
 
 " I wish to come to that understanding 1" he 
 said, pointedly : 
 
 " And I ! ; ' she answered, firmly. 
 
 " It is some relief to my heavy heart to 
 hear you express thia much 1" he rejoined, 
 quickly. 
 
 And to your conscience I" she added, sar- 
 castically. 
 
 " We are taught to believe that confession 
 goes far to absolve us from our Bins." 
 
 " Spare your sarcasms for the proper mo- 
 ment; you may need my forbearance!" he 
 rejoined. 
 
 '" As you will mine !" she retorted, prompt- 
 ly. 
 
 He regarded her with an inquiring look ; 
 but her face was as rigid as marble, and as 
 
 When we were married," he commenced, 
 after a moment's pause. 
 
 " Stay!" she interrupted, abruptly. " With 
 our past we are both acquainted a weary, 
 weary past it has been to me. It will be waste 
 of time to refer to it : let it be a matter of 
 memory hateful memory it must be to both ; 
 but do not let us discuss it. It is unnecessary 
 as a means of bringing us to the understand- 
 ing of which yon have spoken. The events 
 of to-night that especially which took place 
 at the Countess'of Newmarket's will bring us 
 to the point at once. Speak of that ?" 
 
 He started back, and glared at her with a 
 look of indignant astonishment. She stood 
 &B cold, as calm, as immovable as before. 
 
 A flush of hot blood rushed to his brow ; he 
 Ret his teeth, and clenched his hands together. 
 
 " You are right, Madam !" ho said, trying to 
 articulate his words clearly. " You frequently 
 have made a boast that you have sustained 
 beyond the possibility of impeachment the 
 name of Westchester." 
 
 " I have done so !" she replied, firmly. 
 
 " But you have menaced me with inteiations 
 on your part to stain it with the foulest ini- 
 quity 1" he rejoined, sternly. 
 
 " I did it for a purpose !" she returned, 
 gloomily ; " for willfulness, to relieve my'brain 
 of the pressure which your unworthy suspi- 
 cions heaped upon it." 
 
 " But I saw you to-night at'the reception of 
 that infernal horse-racing woman, speaking in 
 earnest tones, but with the familiarity which 
 which which one servant would adopt in 
 addressing another, to that object of my de- 
 testation, my abhorrence, my fiercest hate, 
 Lord Brackleigh !" 
 
 " You did, my Lord Marquis of Westchester, 
 perceive me in conversation with the Earl of 
 Brackleigh, but not with the low familarity 
 whick your vulgar conception attributed to it, 
 but with the earnestness and friendly commu- 
 nion which should subsist betwen husband and 
 
 wife," she replied, calmly and slowly, laying 
 a marked emphasis upon the last three words. 
 
 He staggered back in bewildered amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 l< I I do not understand you, woman," he 
 gasped, faintly. 
 
 " You shrill," she returned, coldly. " You 
 appear to object to my conversing with the 
 Earl of Brackleigh." 
 
 " With my whole heart, eoul, will, being, 1 
 do," he crie3, m frenzied tones. 
 
 She laughed shrilly, painfully, horribly. 
 
 " I am his wife," she said, in ringing tones. 
 
 A wild cry burst from- his lips ; he groaned, 
 he gasped for breath. 
 
 "Wretch, you have foully dishonoured 
 me!" he ejaculated, hoansely. 
 
 She bent her finger wainingly at him. 
 
 " Beware," she cried, sternly and indignant* 
 ly, " how you attempt to breathe one word 
 derogatory to my chastity, even in my ears. 
 For fifteen years I have lived with the incubus 
 of your name upon me and beneath your 
 roof. You have never dared to lay a finger 
 upon me, ev<n in pleasantry. At the altar I 
 swore to be true to my husband ; I have been, 
 as Heaven is and will be my judge !" 
 
 " I I am yeur husband," he cried, almost 
 inarticulately ,"he was BO convulsed with emo- 
 tion. 
 
 " No," she rejoined, with vehemence : " nor 
 have you ever been other than the emptiest 
 mockery of that name. Listen. When Cap- 
 tain Wolverton you married Ada Vian " 
 
 " It ia false," he shouted ; " it is a false 
 fabrication a lie." 
 
 "Of whose?" she retorted, quickly; of 
 yours, or of Matthew Warlock, who was your 
 regimental eervant when you were an officer 
 in the Second Life Guards ?" 
 
 He panted for breath. 
 
 " Do not interrupt me," she said, eignifi- 
 cantly, "for, after I have alluded to your 
 early life before we met, I have a revelation 
 to make respecting my own." 
 
 He tottered to the table, ^ and leaned his 
 hands upon it to support himself. He bent 
 his eyes upon her with an expresfiion which 
 made her flesh creep, but ehe did not betray 
 the slightest sign that she was affected by it. 
 
 " You," she continued, " were married by 
 the Rev. Mr. Meanwell, at Prince's Court 
 Chapel, Pall Mall, upon the lOfch of February, 
 in the presence of Matthew and Walter War- 
 lock, brothers. Was it not BO ?" 
 
 She paused ; but though he glared at her 
 with the same horrible expression, he did not 
 answer. 
 
 " I know that it was eo, and that after your 
 marriage, a girl was born," she resumed. 
 " You caused your wife to be placed in a luna- 
 tic asylum, your child at a school in York- 
 shire ; and you subsequently honored me with 
 the offer of your foully-stained hand and your 
 tarnished coronet. You offered both to ms, in 
 the belief that being as young, I wca as pure 
 and as innocent as the poor creature whom 
 you had married and separated from under 
 
OB, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 209 
 
 circumstances of the most brutal iniquity. 
 You were deceived. I was then both a wife 
 and a mother !" 
 
 A hoarse screech burst from the lips of the 
 Marquis. He tried to raise himself to his full 
 height, as though he would spring at and 
 etrangle her; bnt hie limbs appeared to be 
 paralyzed, and although he tried to advance 
 toward her, he only tottered a few steps, and 
 then clung to a bookcase for support. 
 
 The Marchioness stood immovable. She 
 gazed upon him steadfastly and firmly, and 
 not for an instant did she exhibit the slightest 
 eign of giving ground when he approached 
 her with so demoniacal an expression upon 
 his face. 
 
 As soon as she perceived that he advanced 
 no nearer to her, but clung to the bookcase, 
 swaying elightly to and fro like a drunken 
 man, she proceeded with her revelation. 
 
 " You, Lord Westchester, were married 
 upon the 10th of February, 1831 ; I was mar- 
 ried at Brighton, on the 6&h of December, 
 1832. Your child was born in the November 
 of that year ; mine in the September follow- 
 ing. You will therefore perceive that you at- 
 tempted to cheat me, and that I have success- 
 fully deceived you. I have already told you 
 that I knew your object in selecting me as your 
 marchioness, and I have acquainted yon with 
 mine in accepting you before the world as my 
 husband. You desired to possees a woman 
 whose form and face, allied to distinguished 
 birth, might make you the envy of your 
 peers. You obtained a statue. I took you 
 on the pretence of an ambition for a coronet, 
 but for the purposes of revenge a revenge 
 which has recoiled upon myeelf, inasmuch 
 that I have suffered loug and deeply in conse- 
 quence of my own mad folly. It is quite need- 
 less for me to enter upon the particulars of 
 my clandestine marriage, why I parted the 
 separation was by mutual consent from my 
 husband, why I discarded my child. They 
 are matters which do not, cannot interest you, 
 nor affect you as they do me. Let this suffice. 
 The ceremony which has passed between us, 
 and which, in the eye of the world, made me 
 your wife, does not, for my share in it, render 
 me amenable to the law ; at least, at your 
 charge. You are equally free from any danger 
 of a similar kind at my hands. You have but 
 to look upon the p^it aa I shall as one of 
 humiliating and bitter memory and to place 
 in your household ehe who is legitimately en- 
 titled to preside here as its mistress. That is 
 the smallest justice you can render for the em 
 of which you have been guilty. For myeelf, 
 my journey with you through life ends with 
 ] this 'clear and frank understanding'. To-night, 
 1 1 became acquainted with the full particulars 
 of your former marriage to-night, I quit vour 
 roof, and forever. I have only to add that as 
 I, when I pass into the fresh air from the heat 
 ed atmosphere of this abode, shall forge 
 you, I hope that the memory of me in your 
 mind will die with my departure from you." 
 She was about to turn and quit the room 
 
 ut he motioned her to stop. She did BO, and 
 with a desperate struggle he forced out a few 
 words. 
 
 "It .is but just," he gasped, "that yon 
 hild listen to me, after the patient hearing 
 htttl have given to you. I confess that I am 
 >veywhe)nied by your communication, thaA I 
 find it difficult not only to spo*& but to think 
 with coherency." 
 
 H paused for a moment, and then, with ft 
 renewed effort, which was more successful than 
 he las*, he resumed : j 
 
 "I own I am taken by surprise ; but after' 
 ihe first horror has in some degree subsided, I 
 ieem to feel that this mutual explanation is 
 or the beet. A<ter what you have acknowl- ; 
 edged, I will confess that I have been married, 
 and that I believe that the person whom I mar- 
 ried is yet living ; feut I was married by a 
 ;rick by a piece of jugglery which was un- 
 known to m ; and I married you, at least, in, 
 good faith. However, that has all ended is 
 
 jr ; the suspicions, agonies, miseries of 
 years, have ended with your confession. Be- 
 fore I received th* letter of the villain, "War- ! 
 iock, your revelation would have slain me ; as 
 it is, it gives me hopes for the future ; but ere 
 [ explain what those hopes are, let me make a 
 few remarks upon the situation, not only in ; 
 which you and I are placed, but which also 
 compromises the position of others. For the ' 
 sake of the innocent, it is proper that we. j 
 should proceed aautiouely. By the innocent, j 
 I mean, firstly, the Countess of Brackliigh. 
 She eureJy was unmarried when the Earl 
 sought her hand and led her to the altar?" j 
 
 The Marchioness dropped her eyes upon the 
 ground. It flashed across her mind that, but 
 for her arrangement with Bertram, this lady 
 would not have been so shamefully deceived* 
 would not have been dragged into the position, 
 of wife and no wife. 
 
 " I I believe so," she presently faltered. ' 
 
 11 In that case, unquestionably, Brackleigh 
 has committed bigamy," he mused, rather 
 than suggested. i 
 
 " He he is at least safe from your attack 
 or mine," observed the Marchioness, with a 
 furtive glance at him. . 
 
 " But not from that of the Countess !" re- 
 turned the Marquis, quickly ; " and I shall at 
 least have the power of enlightening her upon 
 her painful and degrading position," he added, 
 quickly, " unless" 
 
 He paused. 
 
 "Unless what?" inquired the Marchioness, 
 with a questioning look. 
 
 He threw himself upon his knees with a sud- 
 den passion at her feet. ; 
 
 " Unless you save me from despair, mad- 
 ness, crime, perdition," he cried, with a frantic 
 manner. " I love you. I have loved you pas- 
 sionately since first wo wedded. I have borne 
 my passion in secret. I have suffered it to 
 prey upon my hears, my soul, rather than 
 pain you with it ; but the time has come when 
 silence would be idiocy. I love you, and I 
 am determined that you shall be mine. We 
 
210 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 have both erred. We hare not a fault to fling 
 at each other without a fear of retort. We, 
 therefore, must sympathize at least in that. 
 Why not in every other feeling ? No man of 
 whose homage you might have the most exag- 
 gerated expectations could worship you BO 
 fondly or BO devotedly aa I will, if you will 
 accept my love. No slave shall 00 serve you, 
 no devotee shall so adore you ao I will, if you 
 will only receive me I am so in the eyes of 
 the world as your husband. I do not ask of 
 you, I do not expect from you, love ; but you 
 can accept mine, and return me gentleness and 
 kindness ; it will be all I shall ever hope for, 
 all I shall ever ask of you. We will fly from 
 this to sunnier lands. We shall still be in the 
 eyes of the world what we have been ; but we 
 hall, in our own, be bound a closer and holier 
 tie. Do not spurn me from you, do not dis- 
 card me. Do not, I entreat, I implore you " 
 
 "Rise, Westchester, I command you!" ex- 
 claimed the Marchioness, in a loud, indignant 
 voice, as she drew her robe, which, in his ex- 
 citement, he had clutched, from his hands. 
 " You insult me, you outrage me." 
 I He sprang to hia feet. 
 
 " Insult outrage you!" he ejaculated, as 
 much with fury as amazement. 
 
 " Yes," she rejoined, sternly. " You for- 
 get that I am a married woman, and not your 
 wife." 
 i He staggered back. 
 
 ' Your effrontery has no parallel," he ex- 
 claimed, and added, quickly : " I again warn 
 you nay, I entreat you, not to reject me ; if 
 you d-> I will not answer for the consequences. 
 Reflect shame will have been heaped upon 
 my name, and wherefore should I pause at any 
 crime ? ily own life, without you, I shall not 
 hold ai of the value of a minute's purchase, 
 and if I am to be hurled to perdition, do you 
 imagine that I will not drag others down in 
 my fall, too? Do you think you will escape 
 m ,j do you think he will escape me ? No I I 
 swear that if my hopes, and desires, and 
 wishes are to be shattered, I will crush those 
 of all who have in any way aided to destroy 
 mine." 
 , y&e recoiled from him. 
 
 " Your answer !" he said, between his closed 
 teeth " you? answer ! Remember, you, too, 
 have a child. Ah! I beheld her to-night. 
 Reject me, and I'll reach your heart through 
 her. I will " 
 
 The room- door at this moment suddenly 
 opened, with the preliminary of a short 
 knock. 
 
 A servant entered, he bore a letter and a 
 card upon a silver salver. 
 
 Tke Marquis motioned him, impatiently, 
 away, but the servant said : 
 
 "I beg your pardon, my Lord. General 
 Alc'erion is the bearer of thia note ; he says 
 that it is from the Earl of Brackleigh, and 
 that he must see your lordship personally, in 
 order that he may take back to the Earl of 
 BrackUigh your lordship's answer." 
 
 " Aha I" cried the Marquis, with a strange 
 
 glee. " I know I know. I remember. Bid 
 the General be seated, and say that I will be 
 with him in a few minutes." 
 
 The man retired. He tcre open the letter, 
 and read it through. 
 
 Its COL tents were a cold, formal challenge 
 from the Earl of Brackleigh, in consequence of 
 the epithets he had addressed to him when 
 they met at the Couuteai of Newmarket's. 
 No apology was asked for. 
 
 When the Marquis had finished its perusal, 
 he turned his eyes toward the spot on which 
 the Marchioness, a minute or so before, had 
 been standing, but she was no longer there ; 
 but in her place stood Hagar Lot, the gipsy. 
 
 CHAPTER XLYin. 
 " Have I then liv'd to this ? to this confusion f 
 My foe, the man on earth my soul most, loatheo, 
 Rejoices over me ; and she -even she 
 Hath join'd his triumph ! Off, away, begone, 
 Love manhood reason come, j e sister Furies, 
 Daughters ol Hate and Hell ! Arise ! inflame 
 My murderous purpose! pour into my reins 
 Your gal), your scorpion fellnegs, your keen horrors 
 That feting to madDess ; till my burning vengeance 
 Hath her full draught of blood." 
 
 DAVID MAILMT. . 
 
 The Marquh was startled, and it might be 
 for the moment alarmed, when he beheld his 
 passage to the door barred by the tall, dueky 
 figure of a gipsy woman, whose eyes were 
 flashing upon him with an unearthly gleam, 
 and whose aspect was that of a desperate luna- 
 tic. 
 
 He shrunk back toward the bell with the 
 evident intention of summoning assistance ; 
 but anticipating his intention, and perceiving 
 its cause, she said, in a hollow, yet somewhat 
 plaintive voice : 
 
 " Remain where yon are, my Lord. You 
 need not fear me. Whatever may be the dork 
 and malign promptings of my spirit against 
 the welfare of others, I have no motive, as I 
 have no cause, to injure you." 
 
 "What do you want with me?" he ex- 
 claimed, still regarding her with suspicion. 
 
 " Do you not recognize me?" she asked. 
 
 11 1 do," he replied. " I do, as one of the- 
 the secret agents of the woman who has just 
 left me." 
 
 " I have been such ; but I am no longer hr 
 servant, far her hour Mfcs come as well as 
 mine," responded flagar. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" inquired the Mar- 
 quis, quickly. 
 
 " The clouds which obscured the setting of 
 my star are fast gathering over, and blotting 
 out the light of hers " 
 
 ** This is the jargon of your class. I do not 
 desire to hear any of it. I have not time to 
 listen to it,'* interposed the Marquis, incau- 
 tiously. " At once communicate whatever 
 you may wish to make known to me, or I shall 
 ring the bell, and order you to be removed." 
 
 Hagar drew herself up, and her eyts flashed 
 fire. She was about to reply with words of 
 haughty indignation ; but a memory appeared 
 to cross her, and she restrained her ire, and 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 211 
 
 spoke with a manner more humble than she 
 had jet done. 
 
 " I do not marvel at your contempt of my 
 people," she said, with downcast eyes. ' Peo- 
 ple of education ppurn the notion that we are 
 gifted with powers of inspiration. They ac- 
 cord them to orators and poets, and those said 
 to be endowed with genius ; but they refuse 
 to believe that a race which has no likeness 
 among the tribes upon the earth should speak 
 under influences which are independent of 
 them. They listen to them, marvel at the 
 things they reveal and predict, affect to dis- 
 believe them, and yet credit them still. I do 
 not resent your contempt, it is the natural 
 prejudice of your class ; but I request you to 
 heed what I shall say, and to give it credence ; 
 it affects your honor, and it will cut to the core 
 of your unhappinees." 
 
 , " Be quick, then, for lam importantly en- 
 gaged," urged the Marquis. 
 t "I know it," replied Hagar. "I have 
 overheard every sentence which has passed 
 between yon and that woman of the heart of 
 ice and the will of ice who has just departed. 
 I know that below there is one awaiting you 
 to arrange the terms of a mortal sirife ; and 
 it is because I have heard her purpose from 
 her lips, and because that I know your doom, 
 that 1 am here to speak with you." 
 
 "My doom, woman?" he repeated, with a 
 light start. 
 
 " Ay," she replied, " it is at hand t You are 
 surrounded with the omens of death. They 
 threaten you at every turn. I cannot discover 
 the means by which you will fall ; but I know 
 that, by accident or design, you will shortly 
 perish." 
 
 " Impostor, you have been hounded on by 
 
 kthe creature yonder to utter this balderdash to 
 me with some infamous object," cried the Mar- 
 quis, hastily. 
 
 ** What does the note still in your hand por- 
 tend ?" responded Hagar, sternly. " You are 
 no coward you will go out with the Earl of 
 Brackleigh. Will he treat you tenderly, think 
 you ? May not hia bullet carry with it the 
 purchase of a life ? Yours is not a charmed 
 one. Do you believe that even if you con- 
 duct your mortal strife with the Earl with 
 Bwovds instead of pistols, that the point of his 
 rapier cannot reach you ? Look on this paper, 
 observe the handwriting, closely and careful- 
 ly." 
 
 She handed to him a small packet, upon 
 which were traced, with a pen, some small, 
 neat characters. 
 
 " It is the handwriting of the Marchioness !' 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 ' Read ic I" she caid, laconically and em- 
 phatically. 
 
 He read aloud : 
 
 "Three grains of the inclosed powder, dissolved into 
 acy warm liquid, and administered, will produce cer- 
 tain death on the seventh, fourteenth, or twenty- first 
 day." 
 
 He looked up into Hagar's eyes with a face 
 as pale as that of a livid corpse. 
 
 M The meaning of this?" he asked, hoarsely. 
 
 "It istiie property of the Marchioness," re- 
 timed Hagar. *' She carries some of that 
 powder constantly with her, concealed in a 
 gold locket, which she wears attached to one 
 of the chains which encircle her neck. Hith- 
 erto, she has refrained from using it, because 
 she haa eeen a way to escape from yourthrall- 
 dom, and to the passing of the remainder of 
 her days with the Earl of Brackieigh in lov- 
 ing dalliance." 
 
 " Never 1" gasped the Marquis, with an ex- 
 pression of deadly malignity upon hia face. 
 
 " Thus far she has escaped from all your 
 toils and efforts to retain her in captivity, and 
 the Earl will escape, too, your eword and your 
 bullet. It is written that he shall not fall by 
 your hand. You may etriv to your utmost 
 to slay him, but hia life cannot be reached by 
 your hand." 
 
 " You cannot know this !" exclaimed the 
 Earl, articulating with difficulty. 
 
 " Who should know it so well as I I, my 
 Lord?" ehe returned, speaking with strong 
 
 ruined, de- 
 
 feeling. "I, whom he sedi 
 
 stroyed " ' 
 
 "You?" ejaculated the Marquis, gazing 
 upon her with wonder. 
 
 "Even I, my Lord," she responded, with ft 
 bitter sigh. " I have not been always what I 
 am. Let it go, I am now what he has made 
 me ; and though he may be and is fated to 
 escape from a deadly blow from your hand, he 
 will bear a charmed life indeed if he evades 
 the toils which I shall set around him. But 
 it is not impossible that he may do BO." 
 
 She paused a moment, then added quickly : 
 
 *' It was I who stole the child whom your 
 wife bore to the Earl of Brackleigh. I it was 
 who, at her request, consigned it to a life of 
 dire poverty, wretchedness, and, it might have 
 been, of shame, but that the girl's nature was 
 foreign, not only to her position, but to vice. 
 I it was, my Lord, who provided that poison 
 which you hold in your hand for the Merchion- 
 ess, when, discovering that her feeHngs for the 
 Earl of Brackleigh had returned into the old 
 channel in which her first love had gushed 
 with such volume, and had leaped and bub- 
 bled so tumultuouely and BO joyously, she be- 
 gan to see that she was chained to a life of 
 which it would be very convenient to free her- 
 self." 
 
 The Marquis clenched his hands, and 
 gnashed his teeth together. 
 
 "I, my Lord," continued Hagar, with a bit- 
 ter sarcasm in her tone, *' have witnessed in 
 the gardens of this mansion the fond endear- 
 ments which have passed the Marchioness and 
 the Earl while the world believed, and still 
 believes, that most shameless woman to be 
 your wife. What more would you have me 
 say to you ? My Lord, the Earl will escape 
 you though, I trust, not me. Will jou let the 
 woman pass from you as scafchless end unin- 
 jured as though she had never wronged you ? 
 Will you permit her to lavish the caresses 
 which should have been yours, upon another ? 
 My Lord, I leave the poison intended for you 
 
212 
 
 EAGAR LOT; 
 
 with you. I take my farewell of you forever. 
 The night is dark, the stars of both are ob- 
 scured. I oscillate upon the verge of the 
 boundary of eternity. Your shadow already 
 rests upon your grave. Will you sink into it 
 unrevenged ?" 
 
 As she uttered the last words, she folded her 
 cloak about her face, and glided swiftly and 
 silently out of the room. 
 
 The Marquie, overpowered by the passione 
 which Hagar had so artfully raised, sank upon 
 a chair without attempting to arrest her de- 
 parture, a prey to toe most terrible thoughts. 
 
 He was aroused by the re-appearance of bis 
 servant, who informed him that the officer *rho 
 Waited hia pleasure in another apartment was 
 growing impatient, and requested ihe favor of 
 an immediate interview, as he had other pres- 
 sing engagements. 
 
 Tbe Marquis rose up, atd bade the servant 
 lead the way. lie passed his handkerchief 
 over his face, ran his fingers through his hair, 
 composed hia features, and made a determined 
 effort to look calm and composed. 
 
 He entered the room in which the friend of 
 the Earl of Brackleigh was awaiting him, with 
 a fircn ani haughty step, and bwed frigidly 
 in return to the lew bow with which the Major 
 favored him. 
 
 " Tbe Lord Marquis of "Weitchester, I pre- 
 sume," said the Mr-jor. 
 
 The Marquis bent his head assentingiy. 
 
 'I am Mijor Alderton, of the Thirty-third, 
 the Duke's Own," he addedj 
 
 Again the Marqcia bswed. 
 
 *' I am the bearer of a note to your Lord- 
 ship from the Earl of Brackleigh, upon an un- 
 pleasant affair," he continued. " An affair 
 which, I hope, will have a different solution to 
 the one that threatens." 
 
 " It will not!" returned the Marquis, coldly 
 and bitterly. " I have nothing to retract ! 
 The fellow is a scoundrel and a villain of the 
 blackest dye ! I would not go out with him, 
 but that I know that his decent entitles him 
 to that privilege. You may, therefore, spare 
 yourself all trouble and loss of time in any en- 
 deavor you may wish to make to effect a com- 
 promise. But that I met him in suc'a an as- 
 sembly as that which was gathered at the 
 Countess of Newmarket's, I wonld have ren- 
 dered the insult such that the suspicion of a 
 compromise could never have been entertained 
 by him, you, or any other person breathing." 
 
 .* Enough, my Lord !" exclaimed tbe Major, 
 rising. " There will only be the preliminaries 
 to arrange. You will honor me with the name 
 of your friend." 
 
 ** General Esmond, of 119 Park lane," re- 
 turned the Marquis. " I will write him a note, 
 and dispatch it at once. You had better wait 
 upon him in about an hour." 
 
 The Major bowed. 
 
 "Good evening, my Lord," he said. "I 
 have no doubt bat the General and I shall ar- 
 range everything to the satisfaction of both of 
 you. He is an Irishman, and fully under- 
 stands these little things.'' 
 
 "I have only one more observation to 
 make," added the Marquis. ' I am the chal- 
 lenged party, and I shall select swords as the 
 weapons with which the issue must be tried." 
 
 " That may raise a little difficulty," sug- 
 gested the Major. 
 
 " I am firm on that point," returned the 
 Marauis. 
 
 " Well, I dare say we shall arrange it," re- 
 sponded the Major. *' I know the Earl to be a 
 finished swordsman only it smacks a little oi 
 vindictivenees. Good eight, my Lord." 
 
 He departed. The Marquis hurried back 
 to bis room, and sat down and indited a note 
 to General Esmond, a friend of many years' 
 standing. The contents were brief, but em- 
 phatic. They stated that the Earl of Brack* 
 leigh bad inflicted upon the writer an irrepar- 
 able injury, and in retaliation he had in pub- 
 lic taken* tne opportunity to deeply insult him. 
 The result had been as he had hoped, as well 
 as be bad anticipated a challenge. 
 
 He concluded his note thus : 
 
 "I leave the arrangements entirely to yon, 
 except in tbia one particular. I choose swordj; 
 As the challenged, I have a right to name the 
 weapons I will not waive that right." 
 
 This not be dispatched by a reliable serv- 
 ant, with orders to proceed to the residence of 
 General Esmond, to take no rebuff from hia 
 people on account of the lateness of the hour, 
 but to see him under any circumstances, and 
 place the note in his hands only. 
 
 As soon as the servant had disappeared, he 
 sat down, and leaning his elbows upon the 
 table, he laid his burning forehead in the 
 feverish palms of his hands, and reflected on 
 Hagar's communication to him. He did not 
 detect her devilish artifice ; he thought only 
 of her assertion, that the Earl of BrackleighJ 
 would not fall by hid hand, that his own noun 
 was come, and that the Marchioness would^ 
 escape, to bestow upon another the love that 
 he coveted. 
 
 "This woman may have spoken the truth,'* 
 he soliloquized. " She belongs to a singular 
 race, who, in spite of the ecorn and ridicule 
 cast upon them, eeem to possess some remark- 
 able power of reading the future. She has 
 spoken to me so nearly to the truth that she 
 may have been inspired to speak the actual 
 truth. If I am to fall, shall that woman 
 escape? No. What now are consequences to 
 me ? My hour is named, and I will not quit 
 life without having exacted seme atonement 
 for the pangs she has so heartlessly caused 
 me to suffer. 
 
 His face assumed a terrible expression, aa 
 proceeding to a cabinet he drew forth a small 
 square box, which he unlocked. It contained 
 some glass vessels of various sizes, and be- 
 longed to a medicine-chest which stood in an- 
 other part of the room. It contained also a 
 spirit lamp, which he kindled, and over the 
 flame he held a eup, in which he poured some 
 distilled water. 
 
 As soon as he had made the latter hot, he 
 poured some of it into a small glass, and into 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOE GIRL. 
 
 213 
 
 this be dropped a pinch of the brown powder 
 which was in the packet that bore without it 
 the handwriting of the Marchioness. 
 
 He watched it eagerly as it turned the water 
 to the hue of milk, curdled, rolled, twisted 
 into various forms, as though it were an es- 
 sential-oil. Then it gradually subsided, and 
 became still, leaving the water as clear as it 
 was at first. 
 
 He selected from the vessels in the square 
 box a very small, narrow phial, and this he 
 filled with the poison, corked it, and placed it 
 in his waistcoat- pocket. He then oarefully 
 returned the articles he had used to their re- 
 spective places, and, after a minute's reflec- 
 ion, during which brief space of time he un- 
 derwent a severe mental struggle, he proceed- 
 ed once more to the chamber of the Mar- 
 chioness. 
 
 He found the door locked, and the key re- 
 moved ; but he possessed a master-key, and, 
 opening the door, walked into the centre of 
 the room. 
 
 The Marchioness gazed at him with sur- 
 prise and indignation. 
 
 " My Lord," she exclaimed, with a frown, 
 "this is beneath your dignity; it is con- 
 temptible" 
 
 " Stay," he exlaimed ; " spare your insults. 
 An event has occurred which renders it neces- 
 sary that I should say a few more words to 
 you. I appear here myself, because it is es- 
 sential that I should meet with no refusal." 
 
 The Marchioness did not reply. She mueed, 
 she wondered what more he could have tc 
 say to her. 
 
 4 You are deeply interested in the matter I 
 
 re to communicate!" he added, with some 
 
 phasis. " I do not desire to reveal it to 
 jvii here, but will speak to you in my study, 
 from which you can "depart at wiSl." 
 
 Still she hesitated. There was a strange- 
 ness in the circumstance and in his manner 
 which she did not like. 
 
 *' The communication I have, to make will 
 bear some reference to a note which has juat 
 reached me from the Earl of Brackieigh," he 
 Bubjoined. " Refuse to comply with my re- 
 quest, and I will not permit you to quit this 
 mansion or, if you escape me, I'll hunt you 
 and haunt you so long as you shall live." 
 
 She glanced at him ; a malignant scowl 
 passed over her features, so slight that it was 
 scarcely perceptible indeed, it eeemed bat a 
 slight contraction of the brows. 
 
 " I will follow you once more, my Lord," 
 she said, as if suddenly making up her mind ; 
 " but it will be for the last time." 
 
 He bowed, and answered, in a low, impres- 
 sive tone : " It shall be for the last time." 
 
 He turned and quitted the room. He has- 
 tened back to his study. Upon a sideboard 
 stood a dgganter, containing sherry, with 
 several grasses. He placed the decanter upon 
 the table, and, by its side, three or four 
 glasses. 
 
 Into one of these he emptied the contents 
 of the phial. 
 
 He had hardly secreted the little phial 
 again when the Marchioness entered. 
 
 She gazed around her with a slightly sus- 
 picious air ; but the room appeared to wear 
 the same aspect as before, and the Marquis, 
 with folded arms, was standing in an attitude 
 of abstraction, apparently unaware of he 
 presence. 
 
 He, however, raised his eyes almost im- 
 mediately afterward, and offered her a chair 
 She declined it. 
 
 "You took the opportunity, Madam," he 
 said, in a frigid tone, "to quit this room ab- 
 ruptly, when a servant entered, bearing a let- 
 ter addressed to me." 
 
 " I did," she returned. 
 
 " May I ask if you heard the words which 
 he uttered ?" be inquired. 
 
 " I clid not," she replied, a little restively. 
 " I thought the opportunity favorable for the 
 termination of an interview which was ex- 
 tremely irksome to me, and already protracted 
 to an unnecessary lengtn." 
 
 "You have resolved not to consider the 
 petition humiliating as the word is, I will 
 still adopt it whichTl have presented to you," 
 he said, in a tone which betrayed irrepressible 
 emotion. 
 
 " I have," she rejoined, briefly and coldly. ' 
 
 He made one more passionate appeal to her 
 to remain with him, in which, in spite of his 
 struggles to prevent them, burning tears 
 chased each other down his cheeks. j 
 
 She listened to him in silence ; but when he 
 had ceased, sha gazed at him scornfully, and 
 said: , 
 
 "I scarcely imagined that to your other 
 weaknesses you would add silly childishness. 
 Let it once for all satisfy you that I hate you, 
 and that my decision is therefore irrevocable." 
 
 He turned from her, convulsed by a storm 
 of passion. It was with difficulty that he could 
 restrain himself from springing upon her and 
 strangling her. \ 
 
 By a mighty effort he mastered his raging 
 feelings, and after one or two turns up ana 
 down the room, he paused before her, and said 
 slowly, and with emphasis : 
 
 " So, then, ail between VLB has ended forever, 
 and events, however desperate, must take their 
 course. I shall not permit them to glide 
 smoothly along ; that you will perhaps know 
 hereafter. I will not detain you longer than 
 to tell you that the note which the servant 
 brought to me is one from your paramour " 
 
 " My husband, Sir," interposed the Marchion- .: 
 ees haughtily. 
 
 Your' pander, woman," he hissed between 
 his teeth. 4i Your mean, truckling wretch, 
 who loved you dearly and honorably enough 
 to permit you to proceed to the arms of an- 
 other, with his fol], free consent." 
 
 She groaned and staggered back. This was 
 a view of Bertram's conduct which she had 
 overlooked ; it struck her with strange and 
 terrible force now. 
 
 The Marquis waved his hand contemptuous- 
 
214 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 f "No matter," he added, " let that go you 
 are a pair well fitted for each other. Never- 
 theless, this fellow has challenged me. I shall 
 go out with him at dawn, and I shall either 
 fall by his hand, or he will by mine. We can- 
 not both live. I have made myself master of 
 fence, and I think he cannot escape my deadly 
 thrust. If I reach his heart, and I shall, wom- 
 an, I will hiss your name in his ear. I will 
 call upon him to curse you as the author of 
 all this mischief and misery. I will seek your 
 child out, and tell her that you have slain her 
 father, your own honor, and hers" 
 
 41 This must not be this duel must not take 
 place," cried the MarcMoness, wildly. " Great 
 iJod, it will be murder !" 
 
 "It shall be murder 1" cried the Marquis ex- 
 citedly. " For he shall not leave the field 
 alive, if I shoot him down when he is unpre- 
 pared" 
 
 " No, no P she gasped. ^ 
 
 " I have sworn it," he cried furiously, " and 
 J will do it Wretch, you will be his murder- 
 ess, as you will be mine, and that of your help- 
 less child, whose only shame but bitter shame 
 is that she is your daughter " 
 
 "Peace! You elay me with your words," 
 ehe gasped. 
 
 i " No," he cried, frantically. " You have had 
 no mercy on others. What mercy should be 
 shewn to you ? No, you have braved it well, 
 and long, but my turn haa come. Why, I 
 will tell your husband, woman jou,are fond of 
 that word how often you have caressed me, 
 fondled, toyed with me " 
 
 " Liar!" she shiekod, madly. 
 
 " What matters it if I am so in fact ?" he re- 
 sponded, rapidly foaming at the mouth in his 
 excitement. * : I will swear to its truth; the 
 world will believe me. Yon will have only 
 your unsupported denial to place against my 
 oath. Why, will not lie remember how you 
 showered your tender endearments upon him ; 
 ay, and when I avow upon oath that you have 
 sated me with the like voluptuous dalliance, he 
 will believe me, not you. Men always believe 
 such stories of women, whether they are- true 
 or cot. 
 
 " I will hear no more," she shrieked fren- 
 ziedly, and tottered toward the door, but fell, 
 ere she reached it, upon the floor in a swoon. 
 
 The Marquis, who had followed her quickly, 
 c iughs her almost as she fell, and partly rais- 
 ed her up. 
 
 He gently drew her' toward the table, BO 
 that the light shone upon her white features. 
 
 Her eyes were but little more than half 
 closed, her lips were slightly apart, and in his 
 eyes she looked more beautiful than when in 
 full healthful life. There was no longer the 
 scornful cast upon her lip, the indignant flash 
 in her eye, but instead, a Bad, pained, heart- 
 broken expression. 
 
 Perhaps she seemed more beautiful than 
 ever to him, because he was about to lose her 
 for ever. He bent over her, a jd suddenly be 
 pressed his lips to hers with one, long, paeeion- 
 ftte kiss ; then he kissed her cheek, her eyelids, 
 
 her forehead, and pressed her convulsively to 
 his breast, and BO released her. 
 
 lie groaned and ID uttered. 
 
 " It la the last childish weakness of which I 
 shall be guilty. Be this the proof." 
 
 He laid her tende/ly upon a couch, and 
 proceeding to the t0le, he took up the glass 
 which contained the solution of the drci wnich 
 he had received from Hagar Lot. He filled up 
 the glass with water, and murmuring 
 
 *' Surrender her to him ! Never, though 
 the scaffold be my portion." 
 
 Ilia hand trembled, yet he did not epill a 
 drop. He stationed himself by her side, and 
 stood there motionless, until he saw her begin 
 to revive, then he watched her closely and 
 anxiously. 
 
 He saw her eyelids flutter, and her bosom 
 heave. She raised herself partly, and pressed 
 her hand upon her throat. 
 
 " Water, water P she murmured, hoarse- 
 
 J y- 
 
 He handed her the glass. She seized it, 
 and with avidity drained it to the last drop, 
 He took the glass from her and dashed it upon 
 the ground, so that it shivered into a thousand 
 fragments. 
 
 At this moment the door opened gently, 
 and the face of Fane peered within. There 
 was an expression of alarm upon ber face. 
 
 The Marquis beckoned her, and as she ap- 
 proached, be eairt ; 
 
 " Your mistress has fainted, woman ; attend 
 to her!" 
 
 Ha turned to the Marchioness, who had be- 
 come partly conscious of her position, and 
 said: 
 
 " Go ! Now, and unto all eternity, 
 well!" 
 
 She !rew herself up, and turned upon hit 
 a face ghastlier than that of a spectre, her 1 
 bosom heaved and fell, an expression of un- 
 alterable scorn passed over her features, and 
 eke turned from him without uttering a word. 
 
 He watched her as she gwayed, rather than 
 walked, refusing the assistance of Fane from 
 the room, even unto the clming of the door. 
 
 Then he pressed both cleuched fists upon 
 his breast, and aafck upon the couck on which 
 he had poisoned her ! 
 
 How long he cowered there in a kind of 
 dreamy distraction, he knew not. He was 
 aroused by the arrival of General Esmond, 
 who came to inform him that the prelimina- 
 ries were all arranged, 
 
 " I have got everything my own way, West- 
 Chester," said the latter, in a kind of gleeful 
 tone, which the occasion by no means war- 
 ra&ted. " Ah, now ! the whole thing will be 
 beautifully managed. That fellow, the Major, 
 wanted to interpose a lot of red-dikuloua step- 
 u laytions. Murther ! I soon brought the 
 fellow to his einees. You wanted to fight 
 with soords, didn't ye ?" ** 
 
 " It was a sine qua non with me," returned 
 the Marquis, in a faint, but which he trid to 
 make a firm, tone. 
 
 " Well, then, it's with soords the fight is to 
 
OK, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIUL. 
 
 215 
 
 be anyhow !" he replied with a laugh. 
 < Soords is it ?' sez the major.' ' The divil 
 another wipon elee,' sez I. Tken he hummed 
 an' ha'ad. Is it fightin' you mane ?' eez I. 
 It is,' sez he. ' Then what the divil does it 
 matter what you fight with, so that you do 
 fight ?' sez I. ' Where sha/1 we get the soords,' 
 eez he, * at this late hoar ?' * The divil cares,' 
 eez I. ' "We'll get them, though, if we fight 
 with dragoon sabres. Lave tbat to me,' se z I. 
 * The Marquis has an arm chist full av 'etn,' 
 eez I, * an* ye shall take your choice from a 
 toasting-spit to a naadle,' eez I." 
 
 " I have tne swords ready for instant nee," 
 exclaimed the Marquis. " Where do we meet? 
 and at what hour ?" 
 
 "Well," returned the General, "there's a 
 nate little bit of level land out on the north 
 road, near a plaee called WiUeaden. I'll drive 
 you there in my dog- cart. The major knows 
 the spot well. The hour is eix, and it prom- 
 ises to be a foine day. I will take you up at 
 the corner of Park lane here just beyant, at 
 five o'clock. It id two o'clock now, therefore 
 you won't have too much time for the Uttle 
 r bit of writing, and a email tiste o' sleep that 
 ye'll want. Good night, Westche&ter I Re- 
 member five, and don t forget the soords. I 
 shall take a docther with us, who is an Irish- 
 man, a soldier, and a gintleman. Good-night, 
 my boy ; and by the grandfather of M Jises, 
 don't forget the soords I" 
 
 The General hurried away, and the Marquia 
 was once more left alone. 
 
 He looked at his watch. It was half- past 
 two. He had not much lime left. 
 
 He sat down at his desk, and drew out some 
 writing material, and then prepared a codicil 
 to his will. In this he revoked all other wills 
 which he had made. He devised the whole of 
 his personal property, and all such other 
 property wnich he had the power to bequeath, 
 to be equally divided between his wife, whose 
 maiden name was Ada Yian, and to his and 
 her daughter, to be theirs solely end absolute- 
 ly, with full power to dispose of their respect- 
 ive shares hereafter, in any manner they might 
 thick proper. 
 
 A* soon as he had finished it, he rang his 
 bell, and hia valet appeared. 
 
 "Have all the servants retired to bed?" he 
 Raked. 
 
 " Not all, my Lord," he replied. " The por- 
 ter is still sitting up for some one or two who 
 Ere out, and there is one of my lady's maids 
 waiting up." 
 
 " Send her to me," he said, hastily ; " and 
 be as quick as you can." 
 
 The valet disappeared, and very soon re- 
 turned, bringing a young woman with him, 
 
 The Marquis looked at her. Ii was the girl 
 whom he hid seen in the Marchioness's room, 
 assisting Fane. 
 
 "Has your mistress retired ta reat?" he 
 asked, B^ernly. 
 
 " My L%dy has gone away in the carriage, 
 may ic please you, my Lord. Fane has gone 
 with my Lady. 
 
 " Do you knew where ?" he asked. 
 
 ' No, my Lord," she replied. 
 
 He bit his lip. Then he pointed to the codi- 
 cil which he had recently writcen. 
 
 " Be good enough to take particular notice 
 that I sign this document," he said, in a tone 
 which was somewhat indistinct. 
 
 The valet and the girl exchanged looks of 
 surprise, but they drew up to the table. 
 
 He took up a pen and signed it. 
 
 When he had done so, he said, in a peculiar- 
 ly solemn voice : 
 
 " This is my last will and testament." 
 
 Then he pointed to a vacant space at the 
 bottom of the paper, above which he had 
 written the usual formula of attestation, and 
 he bade them sign their names. 
 
 Tney both obeyed him in silence, in wender, 
 and with trembling hands. Tken he dismis- 
 sed them without farther remark. 
 
 He folded up the paper, eealed it, and ad- 
 dressed it to his solicitor. 
 
 Then he wrote a letter to his wife, Ada. It 
 was somewhat lengthy, but it pleaded for for- 
 giveness, and begged her to think tenderly of 
 his sins he was no more. He added a few 
 words to hia daughter, and that cost him al- 
 most his greatest effort. 
 
 Bat he mastered his task, sealed, addressed 
 the letter, and laid it upon his table as if for 
 delivery. 
 
 Then he went to the drawer which contained 
 the swords. He drew them from their cases 
 and examined them. They did not appear to 
 have a flaw, and with a grim smile he restored 
 them to their tcabbards. 
 
 Then he examined his watch. It wanted 
 still an hour and a half to the time of meet- 
 ing, and he flung himself into a chair to ru- 
 minate. 
 
 But he sprung suddenly to his feet ; for he 
 fancied he saw his room-door open, and the 
 Marchioness, dressed in grave cerements, en- 
 ter his apartment, stalking slowly like a spec- 
 tre. 
 
 It was but the mockery of a dream, and he 
 paced the room. He resolved to doze no more, 
 He shuddered as he reflected upon the crime 
 he had committed, and felt that he should wel- 
 come death, however soon it might overtake 
 him. ; 
 
 At last the time arrived for him to depart, 
 and enveloped in a cloak, beneath which he 
 carried the sworda.he descended the servants' 
 etai; case, and quietly let himself out ef the 
 house by a private door. 
 
 Ha hurried to the rendezvous, and found 
 the General just drawing up alight trap to the 
 curb- stone. 
 
 Not a word was interchanged between them. : 
 
 He leaped lightly into the dog- cart by the 
 side of the General. At the back of the vehi- 
 cle a gentleman was seated, muffled up in a 
 rough woolen wrapper. i 
 
 Tae Marquis, in a passing thought, suppos- 
 ed him to be the Doctor, but he did not salute 
 him nor cffer any remark. 
 
 The moment; he waa eeated, the General 
 
210 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 touched Ma borne with the whip, and aa it was 
 a thoroughbred animal, it sprang forward, 
 and proceeded to convey them to their deati- 
 nation at a rapid rate. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 " Wonder on wonder risea every moment." 
 
 SHAKESPZABI. 
 
 There was a strange wildness in ttxe eye of 
 Fanny Shelley when, on leaving the humble 
 residence in Little Elizabeth street, she turned 
 '( and gazed on Floret's face, and exclaimed, in 
 . a hoarse whisper : 
 
 " Come quiskly, child* come come!'* 
 Floret was fearful that she was about to suf- 
 fer a relapse, and suggested to Stephen, in an 
 ; undertone, that he should hasten and fetch the 
 Doctor. But he shook his head, and answered 
 \ in a subdued voice : 
 
 1 " She be in the hands of God, Mies. Let her 
 have her own way. He will conduct her to the 
 right end, I feel sure ' that!" 
 j Floret made no reply, but followed Fan- 
 i ny, though with difficulty, for she moved so 
 ! rapidly. 
 
 Yet there was method in her movements. 
 
 Her step was quick, but she threaded her way 
 
 among the people with ease, and pressed with 
 
 ! determination en to cne point. 
 
 j - 5. ery now and then she turned to ascertain 
 
 ; Whether Floret was near to her, and the latter 
 
 could see that her lips were moving rapidly, 
 
 though no sound came from them. Yet she 
 
 ' saw also that her eye was more settled in its 
 
 expression, though still eupernaturally bright. 
 
 j Satisfied that she was st&i accompanying 
 
 her, Fanny pressed on until she had reached a 
 
 ', large, old-fashioned mansion, contiguous to 
 
 Hyde Park ; and for a moment, and enly a mo- 
 
 | ment, she paused before it, and placed her 
 
 hand to her temples, as if to collect her 
 
 j thoughts. Then she turned to Stephen, and 
 
 aaiU to him, with a decisive manner : 
 
 | ""Sou must wait ray return here, Stephen, 
 
 I for I shall come back alone. Come, Miss Con 
 
 | stance, for that is your true name, that by 
 
 j which you were christened in my presence 
 
 ! come. She will not deny you before me." 
 
 Floret felt a gush of emotion spring up to 
 
 ' her throat at this communication. It was the 
 
 welding of the last link which completed the 
 
 chain of proof to lay before the world no, she 
 
 ! thought not of that, she thought only of Lord 
 
 , Victor ; for he now was her world. His was 
 
 the approbation, the esteem, the respect she 
 
 > wanted to win ; and having won it, she felt 
 
 that she should have won that of all the 
 
 \. world. 
 
 fj There was a narrow gap which existed be- 
 
 , tween the walls of tke courtyard of the man- 
 
 , eion before which she had stopped and the 
 
 ' one adjoining. It seemed to be a mere strip 
 
 of land left for the purpose of determining the 
 
 , exact boundary of the two walls a cul de sac 
 
 which led nowhere, and was almost apropos of 
 
 nothing. 
 
 Yet Fanny glided into thia opening, and 
 down a rather rapid decline, until the spot at 
 
 which she paused was almost enveloped in 
 darkness. 
 
 Floret's keen eyes detected, however, that 
 Fanny had stopped before a small door, and 
 that she was passing her hand quiokly up and 
 down one side of the doorpost. 
 
 Presently, her hand rested on one spot ; she 
 placed her other to it, and pressed with a sud- 
 den vigor, and the door opened with a harsh 
 creak. 
 
 14 It has not been used since I was here last," 
 murmured Fanny. Then a spasmodic sob 
 burst from her lips ; but she placed her hand 
 upon her throat, and prevented its repeti- 
 tion. 
 
 She laid hold of Floret's hand, and drew her 
 in gently, and then closed the door. 
 
 4i Bear with this way of entering the house, 
 Miss," she whispered. You shall leave it by 
 the grand entrance, and as a great lady." 
 
 "What house is this, Fanny?" inquired 
 Floret, in an excited whisper. 
 
 " Piantagenet House I" she returned ; " the 
 bouse in which Mies Constance your mother, 
 Miss was brought up. Come." 
 
 " But Lady Westchester is not here t" sug- 
 gested Floret, a little earnestly. 
 
 " She ia," responded Fanny, positively. " I 
 know itI feel it here," she added, touching 
 her breast, and then subjoined, in a mysterious 
 tone : " I know it, because I have seen what ifl 
 about to happen in my dreams." 
 
 She, with a light step, ascended a narrow 
 flight of stairs, which were carpeted with a 
 soft woolen substance, which powdered be- 
 neath their feet as they trod upon it, but com- 
 pletely deadened all sound. 
 
 She did not paause until she reached a door, 
 which was closed, and apparently possessed no 
 lock by which it could be opened. Fanny, 
 however, found a small elide in the molding 
 round the doorway, and drawing it down, 
 the deor opened slowly without being touched* 
 It was hung in such a manner that it should 
 do BO. 
 
 Fsnny passed through ; but her further pro- 
 gress was barred by what appeared to be a 
 wall, which stretched across the second door- 
 way. She pressed it with her fingers, and it 
 yielded slightly to her touch. 
 
 The opening had been canvassed over. 
 Fanny seemed to understand this, and did not 
 hesitate. She drew from her pocket a pair of 
 eciesore, which were attached by a string to 
 girdle, and instantly cut through the obstruc- 
 tion an opening, through which she passed, 
 beckoning Floret to follow her. 
 
 Tke latter complied, with feelings of mis- 
 giving ; but she had gone too far to retreat, 
 and so she stepped, without further hesitation, 
 into a moat tastefully and beautifully-furnished 
 boudoir. It bore the signs ef havicg been re- 
 cently and hastily tenanted. Some articles of 
 attire were strewn about in confusion, and 
 some boxes were partly opened, as though their 
 contents were about to be removed and dis- 
 tributed in places properly appointed to re- 
 ceive them. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 217 
 
 Floret noticed Fanny gaze about her. She 
 saw her lip quiver. She saw her brush away 
 fast falling tears, and press Her two bands to 
 her bosom, to keep down her rising sobs. 
 
 Haying seemingly repressed her emotion, 
 she etepued on tip-toe to the door of the ad- 
 joiniug room, which was partly open, and 
 peered anxiously and earnestly within. 
 
 Presently a low, painful, quivering moan es- 
 caped her lips, and she turned a*ay, sank on 
 her knees, and buried her weeping face in her 
 dress. 
 
 'i This ebullition of feeling lasted only for a 
 moment ; for she rose up, her face still wet 
 with tears. She tore, rather than took off her 
 bonnet and shawl, and rapidly removed those 
 of Floret 
 
 Then, seeming to act by inspiration, she 
 drew Floret to a chair, and forced her to sit 
 upon it, motioning, with earnest gestures, to 
 he silent. 
 
 As soon as she saw that Floret was seated, 
 and gazicg, with an air of eager expectation, 
 at the partly-opened door, she turned her eyes 
 sharply about the chamber, and saw by the 
 toilet glass a small, neat lace cap. She seized 
 it, and pressing her hands over her still beau- 
 tiful, glossy, dark brown hair, which was 
 braided plain across the temple, as she used to 
 wear it, in order to smooth it, she put on the 
 cap, and then sat down at Floret's feet, and 
 took one ef her hands in both hers, and laid 
 her cheek to it. 
 
 ! Then, before Floret could comprehend the 
 purpose for which these movements were made, 
 he fang, in a low, sweet, silvery voice : 
 "La, la, la, sol fa mi, 
 My lady looked through the orange tree." 
 
 As her voice died away on the last note, 
 there arose a rustling in the adjoining room. 
 
 The next moment, they both beheld the 
 Marchioness of Westchester standing in the 
 doorway, with a look ef indescribable terror, 
 horror, and amazement depicted upon her 
 pallid, haggard countenance. 
 
 She seemed not to see Floret : her eyes, her 
 mind, her thoughts, seemed to be concentrated 
 upon Fanny Shelley, whose pale face and deep 
 brown eyes were turned earnestly toward her. 
 
 She stood motionless transfixed with the 
 fearful, paralyzing emotion of one who gazes 
 upon a spectre. 
 
 She could not believe that what she beheld 
 vaa other than a frightful viaon. It was so 
 utterly incredible that those two persons 
 should be there, in real, living, corporeal form, 
 that it was easier to believe that she was 
 gazing upon the life-looking shadows of two 
 "who had risen from the dead. 
 
 And what did it convey to her, that the 
 shadows ef two persons who had suffered so 
 terribly at her hands should thus present them- 
 selves to her ? 
 
 A low, unearthly groan escaped her lips, as 
 she gazed breathlessly upon them feeling, at 
 the same time, her flesh creep, crawl, and be- 
 come blue and livid, while her blood ceagealed 
 slowly in her veins. 
 
 Suddenly, in low, soft, sweet tones, but with 
 a deep and quivering, earnest voice, which no 
 language can fittingly describe, Fanny went 
 on to eing : 
 
 " Tet cheeks there are yet cheeks there are, 
 Sweeter ! good God " 
 
 The Marchioness clasped her hands together, 
 and slowly sank upon her knees S be stretched 
 forth her arms, and bending her face down to 
 toe earth, ehe murmured, in intenaelj -excited 
 but scarcely audible tones : 
 
 " Mercy, Fanny I Mercy, my child, mercy I 
 
 God !" 
 
 Her head declined to her knees, and she 
 would have fallen, but that Fanny sprang for- 
 ward and caught her. 
 
 No sooner, however, did the cold, clammy 
 hands of Fanny touch her, than, wi h a screech 
 of shuddering horror, she sprang partly to her 
 feet, and staggered to a farther corner of the 
 apartment, where she crouched down, and 
 covered her face and eyes with her hands. 
 
 Fanny followed her gently, and said, in ft 
 voice which Constance only too well remem- 
 bered : 
 
 " Miss Constance, dear Mies Constance I 
 know you by no other name look upon me. 
 
 1 am Fanny, your devoted friend, your foster- 
 sister Mies Lady Constance 1" 
 
 At the sound of the voice, the Marchioness 
 raised herself upon her knees, and gazed at 
 her. 
 
 Fanny bore the look unflinchingly, but she 
 looked back for one of those soft, loving looks 
 of recognition with which this same woman 
 of the hardened heart had been wont to bend 
 upon her when she was a girl young as Floret ; 
 and she looked for it without findicg it. 
 
 She would not be repulsed. She repeated 
 her exclamations, and entreated her to ac- 
 knowledge her with some of those looks of 
 kindness which she had so often bestowed upon 
 her when they were children. 
 
 " We nursed at the same breast, dear, dear 
 foster-sister I" she exclaimed, excitedly. " You 
 were attached to me when we were gills, and 
 you said you loved me when you were a wom- 
 an, when even we parted, as I thought ay, 
 and as you thought too forever I" 
 
 Constance rose up, and turned slowly from 
 her. She pressed her hands over eyes, and 
 she muttered, in a tone of bewilderment : 
 
 " Is this no dream no wild phantom of the 
 imagination no spectral vision eoojured up 
 by my distracted and disordered brain ? Can 
 it be real ? or am I mad, and this one of the 
 frenzied illusions which the mad eee?" 
 
 She turned slowly and shudderiogly round, 
 and once more gazed, with dktended eyes and 
 creeping flesh, upon the face of Faony Shelley, 
 who stood near to her, in a meek and humble 
 attitude, with her bands crossed upon her 
 breast. Then her eyes wandered to the face 
 and form of Floret, who had risen from her 
 seat, and who stood, with her countenance 
 turned toward her, more like a statute than a 
 living, breathing figure. 
 
 Constance removed her eyes hastily from 
 
218 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 her, marveling. She eeemed to see her again, 
 in her rich robes of silk, glittering with dia- 
 monda. It appeared but an hour or two back 
 that ehe had been BO dressed, jet she was here, 
 in her innermost private chamber, which she 
 had inhabited herself but a few fleeting hours, 
 habited in plain and humble attire. 
 
 Ib wag incomprehensible and terrifying to 
 her. 
 
 Presently she said, in a low tone, to Fanny, 
 
 " Does my brain mock me ? do my ejes 
 deceive me ? Is it indeed you, Fanny ?" 
 
 " Ifc is indeed Fanny Shelley, your foster- 
 sister ?" returned Fanny, clasping her hands 
 with an expression of entreaty to her. 
 
 Canttance appeared to be very faint, and 
 she placed her hand upon the back of an easy - 
 chair to support herself. 
 
 " I was informed that you were dead," said 
 Constance, speaking with some difficulty, and 
 coughing slightly. 
 
 " To the world I was dead for a time, and 
 all that was in it was dead to me ; for it pleased 
 Heaven to take from me my reason," returned 
 Fanny, in a low tone. 
 
 " You were mad ?" said Constance, interro- 
 gatively. 
 
 " I was, it was supposed, hopelessly mad," 
 replied Fanny; "but it pleased the game 
 Great Power which deprived me of my senses 
 to restore them to me." 
 
 " How did you gain admittance here ?" she 
 interrogated, in the same feeble voice, inter- 
 rupted occasionally by attacks of a short, dry 
 cough. 
 
 " By the same secret way that I have ccme 
 into and departed from this house, many 
 times," answered Fanny. 
 
 "And why have you sought me?" she 
 asked, her tone growing gradually colder. 
 
 " Can you ask that of me of me, Lady 
 Constance ?" asked Fanny, with a sudden 
 warmth of tone. " Have you forgotten what I 
 endured and suffered for your sake the last 
 year that I lived with you ? Bo you know 
 what I had to bear after I parted from you ? 
 Do you remember what caused my madness ? 
 and what what what laid- both my 
 parents in one grave ?" she concluded, with 
 a violent passion of tears. 
 
 The features of Constance seemed to con- 
 tract, and her white skin to assume a pale blue 
 tinge, but she did not reply. 
 
 " What brought me here I Lady Con- 
 etanee !" she continued* through her stream- 
 ing tears. "Lock there!" she added, with 
 startling vehemence, as she pointed to Floret. 
 " Aek me what forced me away from you, 1 will 
 answer you, Look there ! Ask me again what 
 brought me to you, and I will still answer, 
 Looktfcere!" 
 
 CoQKtaccc let her eyelids fall, and she 
 trembled in every limb, but still she did not 
 speak. " O foster-sister, fester-sister !" cried 
 Fanny, faliirg upon her kcees before her, 
 wringing her feaftds, and speaking with bitter- 
 ness an<i anguish, " I was from childhood the 
 slave cf your will, yoar caprice. I bore with 
 
 your petulance, your haughty moods, your 
 violent passions, and the impulses of your, 
 willfulness, without a murmur ; because I knew 
 that beneath that cloud of impatient, mis-, 
 chievous, selfish humors you had still a gen- 
 erous, affectionate heart. Those by whom,, 
 you were surrounded thought net; I knew 
 tkat you had, for I had seen its workings I, 
 had experienced its softest, gentlest, tenderest- 
 sympathies. They were lavished on me on. 
 me, your foster-sister the daughter, not of 
 your parents, but of humble people. But, 
 there stands your child ! Have you not one 
 spark of tenderness one trait of human kind- 
 ness, charity, love for her, Lady Constance 
 woman, if you are woman for your own flesh,! 
 and blood not only the living image of your- 
 self, but of Her, the mother of that God who ' 
 died to save us all ? If you would not see me 
 fall dead at your feet, epeak not to me, but, 
 to ber, your child !" 
 
 Constance shrank back, gasping, panting, ' 
 trembling, but not a sound escaped her lips." 
 
 Floret moved instinctively toward her. 
 
 Fanny Shelley rose to her feet and took 
 Floret by the hand, and, still speaking rapidly 
 and with great excitement, said : 
 
 " You were such a girl aa this," she said, 
 " when love first stole into your heartyou 
 had a heart then. You were such a girl as. . 
 this when you made me a confidant of that 
 love. I alone, save he who had stolen from, 
 you that heart which might have made you 
 an angel, knew of this love. I saw its gradual 
 development ; I saw that it bore you on with t 
 the impetuosity of a whirlwind. I tried to * 
 arrest its furious progress ; but you com- 
 pelled me to listen, not to speak to act, but 
 not to think or remonstrate. I accompanied 
 you on that cold, gray, bleak morning to the, 
 church where you married the man who haa 
 made you what you have been. It waa I- 
 who journeyed with you to Beachborough ; 
 I who preserved your secret there ; I who,.! 
 into this world of ein, of woe, of pain, received 
 in these arms this child your child. Ifcwaa- 
 I who bore her away from you, at your re-^, 
 quest, to dare and endure a lite of poverty," 
 toil, trial, misery. She has endured ignominy, 7 
 humiliation, suffering, of which you can havo 
 no conception; she has borne all all but> 
 shame, or vice, or crime. She she, Lady 
 Constance, is free from Bin. I took her from' 
 you ; I restore her to you. I place her on , 
 you? bosom, mother of the discarded, and ycul 
 will not dare to thrust her tbgnee, if you would 
 not call down upon you Heaven's wrathful, 
 lightning to wither and destroy you." 
 
 " Mother ! mothe* ! tell me only that I am^ 
 your child, and I will bless you," cried Floret/ 
 with clasped hr.nds. 
 
 "God have mercy upon me!" groaned 
 Constance. Then, suddenly throwicg open 
 he* arms, she caught Floret within them, and 
 pressed her passionately to her heart, cry- 
 ing: 'My chiid! ray poor, abused, loBg-de- 
 eerted child ! pity me, pity mel You c^cnot 
 forgive m." 
 
OR, THE PATE OP THE POOPw GIRL. 
 
 210 
 
 She kissed Floret's forehead with a long, 
 passionate kiss, and Floret pressed her lips to 
 hers with almost frenzied earnestness and de- 
 light. She sank upon her knees before her, 
 but Constance raised her up again to her 
 bosom, and whispered, hoarsely : 
 
 " Such should be my position to you. O ! 
 I have wronged you deeply. I have sinned ! 
 J have sinned ! Where, where will be the end 
 of this ? Mercy, Heaven ! I am unable to en- 
 dure this dreadful emotion let me be seated. 
 I feel as though I were dying." 
 
 As she spoke, a violent fit of coughing 
 seized her, which prevented further speaking, 
 nd when she ceased, a slight froth, tinged 
 with blood, rested upon her lips. 
 
 Floret started, and gazed upon this terrible 
 eymptom with dismay. She looked at the 
 careworn features of her mother, and observed 
 that they not only appeared to be drawn with 
 care and anxiety, but to be pinched and tint- 
 ed with a death-like hue. 
 
 Constance wiped the froth from her lips, 
 and to Floret's earnest inquiry respecting it, 
 ehe returned an evasive answer. 
 
 " It is nothing worth heeding," she answered, 
 with some difficulty. "It is the result of 
 ceaseless, dreadful anxiety of detracting 
 fears, of tormenting doubts, of passionate re- 
 grets and remorse at the course which I have 
 been placed. It is impossible for you, for any 
 creature breathing, to surmise what I have suf- 
 fered. I doomed you to a life of privation 
 God only knows what ; but I doomed mjself, 
 too, to a life which has been one long, pro- 
 tracted torture. If there were to be no pun- 
 ishment hereafter, I have been punished fear- 
 fully here ; there needs no other hell than the 
 upbraid lag a of a guilty conscience " 
 
 Here again she was seized with a violent fit 
 of coughing, which continued for a longer 
 period than the last, and threatened the rup- 
 ture of a blood-vessel. 
 
 Again a frothy mucus, tinged with blood, 
 bubbled upon her lips. Again Floret referred 
 to ifr, but her mother wiped it impatiently 
 away. 
 
 " It is nothing," she repeated ; " and if it 
 be the harbinger of d^ath, I shall welcome it. 5 ' 
 
 "No, nr , V' mormured Florc-% tearfully ; 
 "say not so. You will yet live to occasion me 
 many years of happiness." 
 
 "I will try to live long enough to draw up 
 a statement which will assign to you yowr 
 proper place in society. I will declare to the 
 world that you are the daughter of myself and 
 my husband, Viscount Bertram, now Earl of 
 Brackkigh " 
 
 Floret knelt down at her mother's feet, and 
 upraised her clasped hands. 
 
 * t 4 Almighty Heaven!" she ejaculated, with 
 quirenng kps, ' accept the grateful offering 
 of a full heart tendered in thankfulness for thy 
 mercy." 
 
 Constance raised her, and again folded her 
 arm -i around her. 
 
 " Too late found, too soon to be lost," ehe 
 exclaimed. "I will render you full justice; 
 
 at best, a poor atonement for what I have com- 
 pelled you to undergo. To the statement 
 which acknowledges you as the child of th 
 Viscount and Viscountess Bertram, I will ap- 
 pend a will which will give to you all I pos- 
 sess in the world, which has been settled upon 
 me for my use, and te dispose of as I may see 
 fit, and ail to which I am entitled, and which 
 may be bequeathed to me. I will further 
 make such such reparation" 
 
 Again she was seized with a more terrible 
 fit of coughing than before; it was more vio- 
 lent in its symptoms, and most painful to wit- 
 ness, as well as to endure. , 
 
 A sudden thought crossed Floret. 
 
 When Constance had parlially recovered, ? 
 she breathed to her the name of Hagar Lot, \ 
 and, in hurried accents, aeked her mother 
 whether she had taken any liquid recently 
 from her hand. 
 
 Constance clapped her hands to her fore- 
 head. 
 
 *nO, I remember now !" she ejaculated, with 
 a wild look of horror. " Fane told me that 
 she saw her follow me to the study of West- 
 chester. She has had an interview with him ; 
 she has given him some of that dreadful pow- 
 der. I took water from his hand. My God ! 
 I am poisoned I" 
 
 " She sank back upon the chair, and closed 
 her eyes as though she were fainting. 
 
 Floret knelt at her feet. 
 
 " Look up, deareat mother," she cried, 
 eagerly ; " fear not ; you shall be saved." 
 
 " It is impossible. It is the gipsy's poison. 
 It has no antidote 1" 
 
 "It has!' cried Floret, with passionate 
 vehemence. "And, Heaven be praised, I 
 have the antidote with me." 
 
 She produced, from the bosom of her dress, 
 the small phial which Liper Leper had given 
 her. At her request, Fc\cy obtained a glass, 
 and she poured about a poonful of the mix- 
 ture into it. 
 
 With a trembling hand she administered it 
 to her mother, who had commenced to cough 
 violently. Although still coughing, Con- 
 stance quaffed the contents of the glass eager- 
 ly, and panted and gasped for breath horribly. 
 
 Presen ly the cough subsided ; a strong 
 perspiration broke out over her, and stood in 
 thick, white beads upon her forehead. 
 
 She placed her hand upon her throat, and 
 then she turned to Floret, and said, in tones 
 which sounded, in contrast to her former tone 
 of voice, singularly clear : " I am saved I" 
 
 Floret uttered a prajer of thankfulness to 
 Heaven, and if she ever held Liper Laper in 
 her grateful memory with fervent warmth, 
 she did so at that moment. 
 
 At this moment, Fane burst suddenly into 
 the room, with a face upon which horror was 
 imprinted. 
 
 She started back on seeing Floret and Fan- 
 cy ; but, almost immediately, she wrung her 
 hand?, and exclaimed, with real emotion : 
 
 " O my Lady, prepare yourself for terribl 
 news. Something dreadful has happened." 
 
220 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 As e^ie finished, Lady Henrietta hurried 
 Icto tha room, weeping, and wringing her 
 bands. 
 
 " O, my child ! my child!'* she exclaimed, 
 and sar*k, in a fit of hysterics, at her feet. 
 
 Mr. PJaotagenet entered, too, with a digni- 
 fied step, and wfp about to speak, but the 
 white ghostly face of Constance staggered 
 him, and the spectacle of his wife, divested 
 of all affectation, weeping passionately, 
 seemed to completely unman him, and, turn- 
 ing his head away, he covered his eyas with 
 his handkerchief. 
 
 \ CHAFER XLX. 
 
 11 His hand, unmaster'd by his rage, at will 
 A thousand stabs delivers, and divides 
 "With the head, heart, and boscm, as his skill 
 Iratiucia, or the unguarded part provides ; 
 Impetuous, rapid as tne force that tides 
 
 The whirlpool, his all present steel appears. 
 Tho eye bewilders and ita art derides ; 
 
 Where least expected, there It most careers : 
 There most it strikes and wounds, where leas* his 
 
 i ival fears. 
 
 Nor did it, cease, until its point had found 
 Twice the pure life-blood of his bosom gored." 
 
 TASSO. 
 
 The Earl of Brackleigh, after, his return 
 from the Countess of Newmarket's reception, 
 and he had encountered Floret in the hall of 
 his mansion, retired to his room with a curious 
 sinking at the heart, and a very heavy depres- 
 sion of spirits. 
 
 Up to the moment of meeting Floret, he 
 had been all fire and enthusiasm. The insults 
 of the M.-irquis had roused within his breast 
 emotions of vindictive rage, and they added 
 flame to long-smothered feelings of revenge. 
 He bad never viewed the connection of Con- 
 stance with the Mirquii with any other feel- 
 ings than those of angry abhorrence ; and, 
 etracge to say, all his malice and rancor were 
 heaped upon the head of the Marquis, instead 
 of that of the guilty person. 
 i He had no idea that Constance had inter- 
 posed such an icy barrier between herself and 
 the Marquis aa she had, and occasional con- 
 ceptions indulged in, when alone, of endear- 
 ments bestowed by the Marquis upon her, only 
 too frequently flung him into paroxysms of 
 mortification and fury paroxysms which in- 
 variably ended in an intense yearning to wipe 
 out the stain which he considered his honor to 
 have sustained by taking the life of the Mar- 
 quis. 
 
 , He had now, he believed, an opportunity of 
 executing his long- cherished desire for ven- 
 geance, without being exactly amenable to the 
 law. Society, he knew, would back him up, 
 . however deadly might be the nature of the 
 satisfaction he exacted for that unpardonable 
 affront which the Marquis had fastened upon 
 him ; and he inwardly resolved that it should 
 cot stop short of death; 
 
 He was an accomplished swordsman, and a 
 first-rate marksman. It was a matter of no 
 great moment to him which weapon the Mar- 
 quis might select to conduct their combat 
 with ; but he unquestionably had a preference 
 
 fo r the pistol, for he eonld turn and fife 
 a correct aim as quick as thought, and at the 
 same time, be sure with his bullet to strike a 
 vital part He, however, was very skillful 
 with the email sword, and had a favorite feint 
 which seldom failed to draw his adversary to 
 respond, and leave himself open to a fatal 
 thrust ; so when he learned from Major Alder- 
 ton that the Marquis insisted on fighting with 
 the small-sword, he smiled grimly, and made 
 no demur, for he thought of the feint, and 
 promised himself to drive his sword to the 
 hilt through the body of the wretched man 
 with whom he should be engaged in mortal 
 strife. 
 
 Still, aawe have said, there was strange, 
 heavy depression upon him, which seemed to 
 make him bend and cower beneath it ; and 
 though he made several desperate efforts, he 
 found it impossible to rise superior to it. 
 
 The sudden apparition of Floret across the 
 threshold of his own door, the aspect of her 
 beautiful young face, with the curl of scorn 
 upon her lip, which made her resemblance to 
 the Marchioness, her mother, when she was 
 her age, something startling the haughty 
 manner in which she passed him and left him, 
 without a word, without an inclination of the 
 head, without a gestute, were in themselves 
 cause for mortification, humiliation, and irri- 
 tation ; but added to these, was an impression 
 that Constance had deceived him, that Floret 
 was actually her child and his, that the as- 
 sertion that she was the daughter of Fanny 
 Shelley was a mere concoction, and that 
 he unintentionally was aiding Constance in 
 driving her to destruction. 
 
 And these reflections brought with them 
 others, which were not calculated to elevate 
 Constance in his estimation, nor to hold the 
 part she was playing before him in any other 
 light than one from which he turned with a 
 blushing cheek and a bitter sense of self- 
 abasement. 
 
 Still, there was no retreat now ; he could 
 not avoid encountering the Marquis without 
 drawing down upon himself a storm of scorn- 
 ful obloquy. He did not, indeed, wish to 
 avoid meeting him, but he would have been 
 glad to have faced him with cleaner hands. 
 
 Like the Marquis of Westchester, he, after 
 his second had left him, sat down and made a 
 disposition of all the property which he had 
 the power of bequeathing. He left it all to 
 "Constance Edith Plantagenet, afterward Via- 
 countess Bertram, and subsequently known as 
 the Marchioness of Weetchestcr." 
 
 He paused there. He was not, however, 
 satisfied. 
 
 He paced the room, and racked his brain to 
 remember everything for which his Countess, 
 though not h'j wife, had, expressed a liking. 
 They were no many, but he remembered them, 
 and enumerating them, left them to her, with 
 a prayer, iht t though he knew she could nev- 
 er forgiwh im for the grievous wrong he had 
 done he/, ehe would not curse hia mem- 
 ory. 
 
OR. THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 221 
 
 This done, te tried to believe that he bad 
 finished the disposition of his property. Bu^, 
 no I Floret's face would present itself before 
 his eyes, and some inward voice would keep 
 repeating: "It is your child it is your 
 child! 
 
 He tried fco busy himself about other mat- 
 ters. He looked out a pair of dueling- pistols ; 
 oaw that they were cban and free from rust, 
 that tbe implements belonging to them were 
 in the case, and that there were bullets ready 
 for u-:e nay, he loaded one pistol still with 
 one thought passing and repaeeing through 
 his brain. 
 
 " It ia your child, it is your child !" mur- 
 mured the thought, with a moaning monoto- 
 ny. 
 
 Unable to bear it, he seized a pen, and re- 
 ferring again to his laet will, he added, after 
 the words Marchioness ef Westchester " and 
 to her daughter or to any child of here 
 which may be also able to prove, beyond a 
 doubt, that is likewise my child to be justly 
 and fairly, and equally divided between 
 them." 
 
 He was more satisfied when he had done 
 this, and then he rang for his valet and Nat. 
 He eigned the paper in their presence, and 
 made them attest it. He than sealed it up 
 in an envelope, and addressed it to Mr. Pian- 
 tagenet. He handed it to his valet, and or- 
 dered him to forward it to its destination, un- 
 less he gave him orders in the morning to the 
 contrary. 
 
 He then directed Nat to be at the door with 
 a ligdt open carriage, drawn by a pair of 
 horses, at five o'clock ; then he dismissed 
 them both. 
 
 The remainder of the time was passed by 
 him in a kind of lethargic stupor, out ot which 
 he was unable to rouge himself. An over- 
 whelming sense of some tremendous impend 
 lag evil seemed to etupify him with gloom 
 and to paralyze every effort which he made 
 to throw it off. 
 
 At length the chiming of a church-clock 
 told him that it wanted a quarter to five, and 
 he prepared to attire himself for departure. 
 
 Major Alderton was to be at the door as the 
 clock struck five. He knew kirn to be one of 
 the most punctual men living ; and in such an 
 affair he was more likely to be ten minutes 
 before his time than five minutes after it. 
 
 It wanted five minutes to the time. He had 
 a strange desire to look upon the face of the 
 Countess of Brackligh ere he departed. He 
 had never felt so deeply e.a at that moment 
 how much he had wronged her. Under the 
 impulse, he moved toward her apartments. 
 He had an impression that she would be Bleep 
 ing, and would not hear him enter her room 
 would, perhaps, never know that he had 
 imprinted one, at least, sincere kiss upon her 
 forehead ; the last his lips would ever place 
 there. 
 
 A* he stepped slowly and nervously for- 
 ward, he was suddenly startled, and bis prog- 
 iresa was arrested by a loud, shrill, piercing 
 
 agonized shriek, which proceeded, from his 
 wife's apartment, and rang horribly through- 
 out the whole house. 
 
 He turned aa white as ashes and as cold as 
 death. 
 
 He caught at a piece of furniture and clung 
 ;o it, to save him from sinking to the ground. 
 
 The e cream was repeated ytjt more wildly 
 than before, curdling hia blood, and making 
 it freeze in his veins. 
 
 This fearful sound was followed immediate- i 
 ly by the violent ringing of two or three bells, 
 by the slamming of several doors, and the 
 hurried pattering of feet along the corri- 
 dor. 
 
 Preeen'ly, the sound of footsteps, ha*tly ap- 
 proaching the spot where he stood, compelled 
 him to exert sotxietbing like isfcif-po&seasion, 
 and, by a strong exertion, he endeavored to 
 assume a calm demeanor. 
 
 Aa he did eo, he perceived Subtle, the 
 Countess's maid, swiftly approaching him 
 with a distracted air. 
 
 The moment she perceived him, sbe wrong 
 her hands, and, sobbing piteousiy, cried out : 
 
 " O my Lord, come back witb. me I Ot 
 for Heaven's sake, come to my mistress my 
 dear, de-.r mistrefes ! Quick, my Lard ! O ! 
 great Heaven, help us ! O my poor Lady- 
 my dear Lady ! ' 
 
 Tde face of the Earl of Brackleigh was 
 something awful to behold, as he ha-.tced to 
 the ravings of the woman, and saw her fear- 
 fully excited manner. 
 
 *'What has happened, woman," he ex- 
 claimed, hoarsely, "to occasion this uproar 
 and frenzy V Speak! What has happened?" 
 
 "O my Lord!" cried the woman, still 
 wringing her upraised hands ; " I caunot tell 
 you; I bee; you to accompany me to the 
 chamber of my Lady !" 
 
 "Be silent, then," he gasped, "and lead 
 on." 
 
 Sobbing and muttering, Subtle hastened 
 from the room, followed by the Earl, who was 
 quite unable to imagine what had happened, 
 and dreaded to surmise. * 
 
 As they reached the door of the Countess's 
 chamber, they saw there a man mi-filed in a 
 cloak. He turned to the E ;rl, and said : 
 
 14 In the name of Heaven, my Lord, what 
 has happened?" 
 
 The Earl looked sternly at h : m. and said, 
 haughtily : 
 
 ' I do not know you! Who and what are 
 you?" 
 
 " I am an intimate friend of Major Alderton," ( 
 he replied, readily. " I am a surgeon, and, at 
 his request, I am here to accompany him, 
 and ." 
 
 " I understand, Sir," interrupted tbe Earl. 
 "But eurelythat does not account for jour 
 presence on this spot ?" < 
 
 "No; but you will comprehend the cause 
 of my being within your house," answered the 
 surgeon, "when I explain that I was standing 
 outside your house when your groom drove 
 up. Almost at the same moment, * servant 
 
222 
 
 Mi 
 
 I Wi 
 
 L<r~ 
 
 [rushed from the hall-door, with a very excited 
 manner, and your groom questioned her, not 
 only aa to the cauee of her excitement, but 
 [whither she was going. She said something 
 (dreadful had happened, and that she was hur- 
 ing for a doctor. J instantly mentioned that 
 vras one ; and I have returned with her to 
 'offer my services, if they are needed, on the 
 Jnstant." 
 
 I " I do not know what haa occurred ; but I 
 4Hn greatly obliged by your promptness in 
 Rendering services which I have no doubt will 
 prove valuable," responded the Earl. Then 
 he turned to Subtle, and said, sharply, " What 
 has taken place ? Speak, woman, and ceaee 
 this mummery 1" 
 
 1 The woman pointed to the chamber, gasped 
 twice or thrice, screamed, and then fainted 
 
 * upon the floor. 
 
 With a sudden wrench at the handle of the 
 door, he opened it, and entered it. 
 
 | The cold blue light of the dawning morning 
 shone in through the windows, and gave to 
 
 ; everything within the room a ghastly look. 
 Before him, seated in her chair, with eyes 
 
 ' staring full at him, with an expression which 
 froze him utterly, was seated, upright and 
 rigid, the Countess of Brackleigh. 
 
 ; She was dressed in the full evening dress 
 which she had worn the evening previously. 
 Upon her head was a white wreath, glittering 
 with jewels ; around her neck, upon her bare 
 arms, were jewels glistening and glittering. 
 
 The hue of her skin was livid ; the ex- 
 pression upon her features was indescribably 
 horrible. 
 
 ' The Earl stood spell-bound. He was frozen 
 to the spot convulsed with an emotion which 
 no words can aptly describe. 
 
 o " Good God I" ejaculated the surgeon, as he 
 oast hia eyes upon the Countess, lie ran hast- 
 ily forward, and laid his hand upon her wrist. 
 He turned his face awe- stricken to the Earl, 
 and in a low, it seemed an unearthly, tone, 
 said: 
 
 - " SHI is MID !" 
 
 The Earl tottered, staggered, turned round, 
 and fell heavily upon the floor. 
 
 The Doctor WAS in an instant at his side, ad- 
 ministering a restorative ; for he had swooned. 
 
 In hasty and imperative terms he bade the 
 eeveral servants who had come, alarmed by 
 Subtle's shrieks, to the room-door, to lift up 
 the body of the Countess, lay her gently on 
 the bed, and cover her with a sheet. 
 
 This was done before the Earl was restored 
 to consciousness. 
 
 When he had revived, and could compre- 
 hend what had occurred, the Doctor whispered 
 a few words in his ear, partly of consolation, 
 partly to nerve him, and to make him control 
 the dreadful emotion which was raging in 
 his breast. 
 
 He did not speak when the Doctor addressed 
 him, but his upper lip quivered visibly, as 
 though he wieh &, to do so and had not the 
 power. " How did this happen?" inquired the 
 Doctor of Subtle. 
 
 " I <fc not know, Sir," she returned. " All I 
 can tell you is, that my Lady returned from 
 the Countess of Newmarket's last night ; it and 
 seemed to me, Sir, aa if Ler brain had been 
 crushed, destroyed, Sir, by something that had 
 happened. She refused to let me remove her 
 dress. She spoke of going out again, some- 
 thing about policemen and magistrates, but] 
 nothing coherent, I begged berto let me; 
 summon the Earl to her, but she refused in a 
 very angry manner. I implored her to allow 
 me to feted her medical attendant ; for I could 
 see that she was very ill, and looked as I j 
 had never seen her before " 
 
 " How ?" asked the Doctor. 
 
 " I do not know how to explain to yon, Sir,',; 
 but she seemed horror struck and terrified;* 
 she listened intently for sounds, and stared at? 
 me dreadfully" 
 
 Subtle burst into tears again. 
 
 *' I went down on my knees to her/' she 
 continued, weeping bitterly all the time, "and 
 begged her to let me summon assistance to 
 her ; but she then seemed to recover himself 
 for a minute or two. She told me to rise up, 
 and bade me net be anxious about her that 
 she should be better in a few minutes. Shot 
 ordered me to go to bed, and said that she; 
 would sleep where she was for an hour or two, 
 and would ring for me when she wanted 
 me to undress her. I went to bed I see now 
 how wrong I was to do so but felt very un- 
 easy about her ; at last, after waiting a long 
 and weary time for her bell to ring, I went, 
 uncalled into her room, and found my lady 
 as as you, Sir, saw her and and my 
 Lord" 
 
 The woman's voice was choked with sobs, 
 and the Doctor bade her retire, and eompos* 
 herself. i| 
 
 "This has been some awful pressure upon 
 the brain, which her ladyship has not had 
 the physical strength to withstand," he re- 
 marked, after a moment's pause; "it ha 
 been borne for a length of time, but it reach- 
 ed its climax of unendurable agony last 
 night " 
 
 The Earl waved his hand for him to be si- . 
 lent: 
 
 Then he said to him, in a hollow voice : 
 
 " There is no hope ?" 
 
 " None," he answered, shaking his head, i 
 "Her ladyship has been dead tvro or three] 
 hours." 
 
 The Earl turned from him. 
 
 " A broken heart," he muttered. 
 
 Approach Eg the bed upon which tn1 
 Countess w s laid, he knelt down by its side, , 
 laid his face upon the coverlet, and pressed hia 
 clench' d hands upon his forehead. 
 
 He remained in this posture for some few | 
 minutes, and then he arose. 
 
 His face was aa white as marble ; but his 
 features, though they had a hard, set expres- 
 sion, appeared to be more composed thaa 
 might have been expected. Bat there waa ft 
 bright red rim about hia eyelids. 
 
 He turned to the Doctor, and said, in a 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 223 
 
 Toice which grated unpleasantly upon his 
 ear: 
 
 " Come, Doctor, we must hurry away ; we 
 shall be lite." 
 
 "My God!" ejaculated the Doctor; "you 
 trill not go under these terrible circum- 
 stance*?" 
 
 Tcie Earl set his teeth together. 
 
 ' Will I not I" he biased through them. 
 
 A servant approached the room-door, and, 
 in a very subdued tone, said to the Earl : 
 
 * M*y it please you, my Lord, Major Alder 
 ton wishes to speak one word with you. The 
 Jlajor eajs: 
 
 "Enough I" interrupted the Earl, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 He went up to Subtle, and whispered : 
 
 41 1 shall return here by eight o'clock, or 
 I hare given my valet instructions what to do, 
 should iny absence be extended after that 
 boor. Come, Doctor." 
 
 " My Lord, reflecfc," urged the Doctor. 
 
 " I have," he replied, laconically, " and I 
 have decided." 
 
 As he spoke, he moved to the room-door. 
 He gave one glance at the white sheet which 
 cohered the still form of the hapless woman, 
 whose death lay now heavy upon his right 
 hand, and he shuddered. 
 
 He returned to his room, took up his case 
 of pistols, put them under his arm, and then 
 descended the stairs with a hurried step, and 
 a thoughtful, dull, and heavy aspect. 
 
 On reaching the door, the Earl moved rapid 
 Ly to the vehicle, nodded to his friend, Major 
 Aldertun, sprang up on to the carriage, bare- 
 ly gave the Due tor time to scramble in, when 
 be said to Nat, in a tone which the latter un- 
 derstood. : 
 
 Away with you ! gallop !" 
 
 The Major had already given Nat instruc- 
 tions whither to go, and tie started the horses 
 off at a tremendous pace. 
 
 Nat had a misgiving of what was about to 
 happen. When he saw the Earl's face, as he 
 emerged from the mansion, he gazed at it, 
 cared and aghast. 
 
 He was certain something very dreadful had 
 occurred at JLSrickleigh Mansion, and that 
 something as terrible was about to take place 
 where thy were going ; but he could not sur- 
 mise what. 
 
 He was deeply interested in both cases ; for, 
 as yet, he had received nothing but promises 
 toward the purchase of that u stunnin' pub", 
 and ike solemnization of marriage with that 
 ** 'ere fair party". 
 
 He glanced at the Earl as often as he dared, 
 and then at the Major, and occasionally at the 
 gentleman who had declared himself to be a 
 Doctor. His inspections were not reassuring. 
 He believed, at last, with an unpleasant sick- 
 ing of the spirits, that he was driving out a 
 ehooting-party, but that birds were not the ob- 
 j :sc of the sport upon which it was their inten- 
 tion to be engaged. 
 
 The horses were remarkably fast, and being 
 pushed, and meeting with no impediment on 
 
 their way, they performed their journey in a 
 yery short space of time. 
 
 On reaching a turn in a winding lane, they 
 observed a carriage somewhat similar to their 
 own, with a pair of reeking horaea, drawn up 
 under a hedge. The white stream from the 
 animals was rolling up in volumes, and it 
 was evident that they "had been driven fast, 
 too. 
 
 The Major called upon Nat to pull up where 
 they were, and he obeyed instanter. Jumping 
 down, the Major was followed by the Earl and 
 the Doctor, and Nat was left in charge of the 
 vehicle. 
 
 A few minutes brought them to the spot 
 where the Marquis of "Westchester was stand- 
 ing, conversing with General Esmond end the 
 regimental Surgeon. The Major looked ner- 
 vously at his watch. It wanted five minutes 
 to six : a sigh of relief escaped him. : 
 
 He instantly hurried up to the General, took 
 him aside, and conferred with him in anxious 
 and earnest tones. The General seemed 
 moved ; and when the Major ceased speaking 
 to him, he walked thoughtfully up to the Mar- 
 quis, j 
 " Westchester !" he said, in a low tone ; " a 
 very shocking event has happened, and it is 
 only right that you should be made acquaint' 
 ed with it." 
 
 " What is it ?" inquired the Marquis, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " The Countess of Brackleigh was discover- 
 ed dead just before the Earl departed !" 
 
 The Marquis gezed at him with amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 " Dead !" he ejaculated. 
 " Yes ! " replied the General " It was rery 
 sudden very unexpectedvery horrible, I 
 believe. Don't yon think that, as a mere mat- 
 ter of human feeling, and of respect for the 
 memory of the departed lady, we had better 
 postpone this affair ?" 
 
 The Marquis reflected for a minute, but foi 
 a minute only. 
 
 The Earl was free free now to claim th 
 Marchioness, and declare her before all the 
 world to be his wife, &nd he would have no 
 power to interfere or to prevent it. That 
 thought desided him. j 
 
 He turned sharply to the General. 
 "Postpone it!" he exclaimed, emphatically^' 
 " certainly not I" 
 
 "But the circumstances, man alive I" urged 
 the General. 
 
 "Are only such as to make me more eager 
 for the meeting I" he rejoined. " You do not 
 know the Earl I do. The death of his wife 
 at such a moment is very suspicious. Ha 
 has strong reasons to wish for Her death. I 
 ehould not be surprised to learn that poi- 
 son " 
 
 " Hush ! hush !" interrupted (he General ; 
 " murther, what would you insinuate ?" 
 
 " I care not!" replied the Marquis, excited- 
 ly; "anything, everything, rather than he 
 should be permitted to sneak out of meeting 
 me, foot to foot, face to face I" 
 
224 
 
 HAG AR LOT; 
 
 " It it'a that you mane, I've nothing further 
 to say, Weetchester I" responded the General ; 
 "only juet this, your goia' to work a little 
 more like a butcher than a gentleman!" 
 , " ffow?' ejaculated the Marquis, fiercely. 
 
 " Whisht ! w e'll settle our trifling discus- 
 sion on this point afterward!" observed the 
 General, with a somewhat distant manner. 
 "Your Jittle quarrel would have kept until it 
 would have been dactnt to fight it out ; but, 
 eince you are so determined, the civil a help 
 there'ti fur i ; and BO you must tight !" 
 
 " I am determined I" said the Marquis, grat- 
 ing bid teeth. 
 
 *Tae bloodthirsty, murtherin' villain!" 
 muttered tbe General to hircself. "By the 
 maiden aunt of Moaea, he manes killing his 
 man, if he does not firat get pinked him- 
 self!" 
 
 The Marquis produced the swords, and the 
 General handed them to the M .jor, who mea- 
 eured tbe in carefully, and found them to be of 
 equal length ; he placed them in the hands of 
 the Earl of Brsckieigh, who examined the 
 blades, apparently with some curio&ity ; but 
 be did not measure the weapons. 
 
 He divested himself of bia coat, vest, and 
 neckcloth, and bared his right arm to the el- 
 bow. 
 
 The Marquis did the same, and then ad- 
 vanced with a calm, measured step toward the 
 Earl. 
 
 The seconds, each armed with a sword, 
 closed up, tbe two 'Doctors arranging them- 
 selves at A moderate distance from the com- 
 batants. 
 
 Tbe Earl raised up the swords aiid confront- 
 ed the Marquis. 
 
 Tee faces of both men were perfectly color- 
 less, and the expression upon each of their 
 countenances was sach as ic would be well it it 
 could never be seen upon the " human face 
 divine." 
 
 They looked into each other's eyes, and 
 their orbs gleamed with a malignant ferocity. 
 The two secoada obser/ei their murderous 
 gaze at each other, and exchanged glances 
 
 A gea'ure by the General was understood by 
 the Major ; and they both watched, mh*al- 
 inoat nervous anxiety, the conduct of their re- 
 spective principals. 
 
 The Earl tendered the handles of the swords, 
 boloiog tie blades, to tse Marquis. As he did 
 so, he edul, in an undertone : 
 
 'Suouid these weapons fail, I have pis- 
 tols." 
 
 lie pointed to the epot where he had placed 
 them upon tbe ground. 
 
 Without looking at them, the Marquis took 
 one of tbe ewordt>, and then placing himself in 
 an auiiude, be exposed his bieas r , that toe Earl 
 might measure tee distance ; tbe Earl did the 
 eauie. They both recovered their respective 
 positions, and then they commenced the dead- 
 ly fray. 
 
 It was quickly observable that it was cot 
 the intention of either to protract the com- 
 bat. They both attacked and defended with 
 
 great determination and consummate ekill. 
 Afer a somewhat lengthy and severe struggle, 
 they both paused. 
 
 Upon the sleeves of the shirts of both, blood 
 was visible ia two or three places, showing 
 that some hits had been made on both sides, 
 though not of any serious moment. 
 
 The two seconds, upon observing them, as 
 by consent, rest, both approached. 
 
 "S:and back," thundered the Marquis". 
 "To your guard!" he shouted to the Earl,, 
 and renewed the contest with a violence and 
 fury which be had not before exhibited. 
 
 The Earl psrried hia thrusts like lightning; 
 and tbe clash of swords, so sharp, so swift, so 
 incessant:, wound up the seconds to a pitch of 
 intense excitement. 
 
 Tbe Marquis kept up his violent attack ; he 
 pressed on the Earl, he forced him to give 
 ground, b.it, notwithstanding the rapidity with 
 which he used his sword, the Earl successfully 
 foiled him at all points. 
 
 But bis'blood had been roused up until if 
 boiled. He began to feel exhausted, and in- 
 sensibly he, too, commenced to fight with 
 desperate fury and determination; and sud- 
 denly, in one of their most furious an 1 rapid 
 passaffep, a endden sharp ring was heard the 
 eword of tue Marquis broke short off oear the 
 guard, and went living in the air ; at the same 
 moment, the eword of the Earl passed through 
 hia body up to the hilt. 
 
 He drew it out ensanguined, and waved it 
 thrice sharply in the air. 
 
 The Maquis staggered, and fell. 
 
 II fell cioee to the pistol-case. 
 
 His half dazed eyes caught sight of the 
 weapons within it. He seized one ; it was the 
 CLJy one leaded. 
 
 He pointed it at the Earl, and pulled the 
 trigger. 
 
 Ic was ft hftir-trigger ; a puff of wind almost 
 would have moved it ; there was a flash and a 
 report. 
 
 A shriek buret from the lips of tbe Earl, and 
 he feil back motionless upon the ground. 
 
 Tse surgeons and seconds each attended 
 their men. 
 
 Toe Bdarqmswas Heeding fearfully from hi* 
 wound, wbich was close In tue proximity of tbe 
 heart., if i f , h id not touched k-. 
 
 The Doctor raised him B;erj7\r p, and he 
 gasped iwice or thrice. His eyes o^ntd and ' 
 shut eeverttl times. 
 
 He tried co jpeak, but no sound c*T>e from 
 bis lipa ; and then there was a 3 iarj convul- 
 sive thudder paaaed through his f* auae, and his 
 i*w fell. 
 
 " God preserve us!" ejaculated tbe General ; , 
 
 The Ducior laid him tenderly upon the , 
 grass. 
 
 "He is <?ead," he said, quie'ly *-Let ua 
 ?ee whether we oau do anything ua the other 
 man " 
 
 Toey hurried up to the Earl of B-actMghj 
 and loubd tbe surgeon attending iu a pistol- 
 ehot wound, which passed through Ids cheefc, 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 225 
 
 ioushed hia lungs, and had gone out beneath i 
 his left shoulder. 
 
 The surgeon who had attended the Marquis 
 assisted to stop the hemorrhage, which was 
 very great, and while they were doing BO, the 
 Earl revived ; he looked dreamily around him, 
 then upon the faces of those who were bending 
 over him. 
 
 After two or three efforts to speak, he said, 
 in a whisper a horrible whisper it was : 
 
 " Where is the Marquis ?" 
 
 " In heaven, it is to be hoped !" exclaimed 
 one of the surgeons. 
 
 "If they admit murderers in that holy 
 place," observed the General, with a gloomy 
 brow; " By the hely saints, my Lord Brack- 
 leigh, you've been killed by a very dirty paieo 
 of murther, anyway." 
 
 " la he dead?" asked the Earl, eagerly. 
 
 41 He is," replied the surgeon, in whose arms 
 he had died. 
 
 "You are sure?" 
 
 " Positive." 
 
 "I am glad that it is so ; it is better that he 
 should be dead than live on," he murmured. 
 
 He became silent for a short time while the 
 surgeons were occupied in bandaging him up. 
 
 Presently he said, in a low, hoarse whisper 
 to the Doctor who had accompanied him to 
 the ground : 
 
 " I may rely upon your telling me the truth. 
 Answer me : this wound I have received is 
 mortal, ie it not?" 
 
 The Doctor turned away his face with a sad 
 expression upon it. 
 
 " Answer me," he murmured. " Under- 
 standit is my most earnest desire that it 
 Bbould be so. I have done with life ; but it is 
 my wish to make some amends for wrongs I 
 have committed, and to make my peace with 
 an offended Maker, if can, while there is yet 
 time." 
 
 ** Your wound is mortal," replied the Doc- 
 tor, in low, solemn tones. 
 
 "I am satisfied," he rejoined. "Now tell 
 me how long T have yet to live." 
 
 " About six hours," returned the Doctor, 
 sadly ; " you must not hope to survive beyond 
 that period." 
 
 * Take nee as quickly as you can to Plan- 
 tagenet House !" he exclaimed. 
 
 They looked at him with surprise. 
 
 He raised his white hands in a suppliant at- 
 titude to them. 
 
 " Be merciful to me," he said, faintly ; " ask 
 me no questions, but bear me there." 
 
 He was carefully wrapped in a cloak, and 
 jhe four individuals by whom he was surround- 
 ed carried Utra slowly and carefully to his car- 
 riage, in which he was placed with the great- 
 est possible tenderness and'gentleness no little 
 to the amazement of Nat, who, when he saw 
 the Earl's pale face, with scarcely a sign of 
 pfe in it, felt his heart fall like a lump of lead 
 in bis body. 
 
 They then returned, and, raising up the dead 
 body of the Marquis, the General and the sur- 
 geon, took charge of it, bore it to the carriage, 
 
 and drove off at a swift pace to Westcheater 
 Bouse. 
 
 Nat, instructed by the surgeon, moved only 
 at a snail's pace, for fear that the jarring or 
 Bolting of the carriage should increase the iu- 
 ;ernaf hemorrhage which was going on in the 
 body of the Earl. 
 
 On reaching P'.antagenet House, the Earl 
 was borne into the bouse, and conveyed to & 
 bedchamber. 
 
 As soon as he was laid upon a bed, he sent 
 for Lady Henrietta Plantagenet, and before 
 she had got over the horror of witnessing him 
 n that frightful condition, he briefly explained 
 bis connection with her daughter to her, and 
 begged to be permitted to see her. 
 
 Lady Henrietta sought Mr. Plantagenet v 
 and revealed to him what she had heard from 
 the Earl. He listened to her with amaze- 
 ment, and himeelf huriied to the Earl's cham- 
 ber. 
 
 The surgeon, however, intervened, and 
 pointed out to him that, as the Earl had 
 scarcely an hour to live, it would be proper to 
 stifle all indignation, and suffer him to have 
 his last interview in peace with the lady, who, 
 in his dying hour, he solemnly declared to be 
 his wife. 
 
 Tnen, dumbtounded, overwhelmed with 
 amazement, bewildered, oppressed with grief 
 and horror, they together sought their daugh- 
 ter's chamber. 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 " My lord, my love, 
 I know you look on me as the cause, 
 The fatal cause ot all jour ills. Too true ! 
 That guilt was mine 0, would to Heaven this head 
 Had been laid low in earth ere tt at sad hour." 
 
 EURTDICE. 
 
 The Lady Henrietta Plantagenet was a poor 
 hand at breaking painful intelligence. It was 
 with great difficulty that Constance could, be- 
 tween her paroxysms of grief, gather anything 
 approaching to a resemblance of the unwel- 
 come tidings which she had to communicate ; 
 but, at last, she gathered that the Earl was in 
 a chamber below, one mass of wounds, and 
 bleeding to death ; and she surmised that a 
 eanguinary duel had been fought between him 
 and the Marquis of Wtstchester. 
 
 Her mother had blurted out to her that she 
 must make haste and see the Earl, who was 
 dying rapidly, and that he was already de- 
 lirious ; for he would insist that she was his 
 wife. 
 
 Of all her trials, of all tl\e terrible and ua- 
 eipected shocks which Constance had ever re- 
 ceived, the intelligence which her mother now 
 bore to her was certainly the heaviest and the 
 most terrible ; but she received it with more 
 calmness and firmness, perhaps, because she 
 knew that it must be the last. Nothing could 
 surpass it in agony pcd horror ; and she al- 
 most felt a strange 'ndeecribable relief ia 
 knowing that the worst had come at last. 
 
 She felt very weak, very hysterical, very, 
 very ill ; her brain seemed crushed beneath a 
 heavy pressure, and she felt as if some uc- 
 
HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 ON Hostile power was dragging her heart 
 flmm down to perdition. 
 
 Hi&affily hopeless, now wholly despairing of 
 anrj jeace in the future, she prepared to go 
 'ftferwagh the last ecene in the terrible drama in 
 Itad played BO important, and so bad 
 . 
 turned to Floret, and took her by the 
 
 "Come," she said, in a clear but hollow 
 Mfli. " Come, my child ; thia interview 
 be passed through between you and me 
 
 awl him alone." 
 
 A faint scream burst from the lips of the 
 
 &#y Henrietta as Constance addressed Flore? 
 
 at her child ; and Mr. Plantagenet staggered 
 
 &M&, aa though he had been struck by a 
 
 . Constance noticed their emotion. 
 
 . $hft said to her father, in earnest tones : 
 
 "I have been wicked, Sir; but I have 
 S&K&Bght no shame upon the name of Plan- 
 fcjwnet." 
 
 he pointed to Fanny Shelley. 
 
 <* 'Store sits my foster sister. Aek my se- 
 oAct history, while I still remained a Plantage- 
 &&,, from her ; I release her from every prom- 
 awe f secrecy which she made to me." 
 
 'Slas pressed Floret's hand. 
 
 *ome," she said, in a voine which trem- 
 llb&now, " the moments are precious to us. 
 (u A drop of blood bears away a minute of 
 " 
 
 HObey descended to the chamber, in which 
 tying, nearly senseless, the Earl of Brack- 
 
 The Countess motioned to the Doctor, and 
 woman, who had been hastily brought 
 J&re as a nurse, to retire. 
 
 Me understood, at a glance, who she was, 
 :%ij; bowing, he glided to the door, followed 
 % *he nurse. 
 
 '-. -onatar.ee knelt down by the bedside, and 
 ISoret, half fainting, knelt too. 
 
 "-Bertram," ejaculated Constance, in a 
 Ipntto tone, yet cne which quivered with the 
 intensity of the emotion she was suffering. 
 
 'Me appeared to be dozing; but, at the 
 wand of her voice, he turned his face quiok- 
 31$,. and stretched for Mi his white thin hand. 
 
 3he took it, bent her face over it, and bathed 
 >, "in her scorching bitter tears. She sobbed 
 ?e, ~ery passionately, and her frame shook BO 
 aeaiYuleively, that it seemed as though her 
 Iteart would burst within her body. 
 
 JSe perceived the violence of her emotion, 
 m& he said, gently : 
 
 '*Do not grieve, Conetance: My hour has 
 'jaaae, and we must part for ever. Do not re- 
 ona-to the past " 
 
 84 1 I have slain you!" she ejaculated, 
 mth bitter anguish. O Bertram, Bertram ! 
 'aaffcan I bare ray heart before you, to show 
 you, tho agonizing repentance with which I re- 
 Bllnmy madness, my wickedness " 
 
 "-Cease, Constance, to speak of it to me," 
 &fcinterpo8ed, feebly, but earnestly. " I have 
 aaxaed so much, that, when you refer to your 
 
 errors, you but make me feel my own mora 
 deeply. It was I who led you into a secret 
 marriage the most fatal mode of blending 
 two hearts together, which was ever conceived 
 by a weak and inexperienced head. By urg- 
 ing you to take that step, I sowed the seed of 
 all which has followed. I must not throw 
 blame upon you, because I have reaped the 
 rank and bitter weeds which I myself have 
 sown. Let us speak only of the future. I 
 have something on my mind which I O 
 God of Heaven ! is it that I am delirious, or 
 is there a figure kneeling by your side a 
 form I saw last night a face which hss haunt- 
 ed me since? Constance, is it a reality or 
 only my distempered imagination ?" 
 
 Constance twined her arm about Floret's 
 neck, and drew her closer to Bertram ; but 
 she wept so frantically, that she could not ar- 
 ticulate a word. 
 
 Bertram still kept his faint eyes fixed on 
 Floret's face, and, gazing into her humid eyes, 
 said: 
 
 " In the name of mercy, in the name of 
 Heaven, if you have life, speak to me. Who 
 are you!" 
 
 Floret gasped spasmodically; but she 
 forced out the words : 
 
 " I am your child I am your child I You 
 have denied me ; but, indeedindeed I am 
 your own child I" 
 
 "Constance!" he groaned, turning to hia 
 wife; "as you hope for mercy hereafter, 
 speak to me. Who is that by your side ?" 
 
 " Bertram !" she half screamed, that she 
 might force her words out. " Bertram, it i* 
 jour child and mine I She was born at Beach- 
 borough Abbey before we parted. I I am 
 to blame ! I only am to blame ! O, mercy 
 mercy do not curse me, Bertram do not 
 curse me !" 
 
 She sank prostrate upon the bedside. 
 
 "Almighty Gd, for this mercy I thank 
 Thee !" ejaculated Bertram, with intense fer- 
 vor ; " to have lived over this moment dis- 
 arms Fate of any further power to grieve me 1" 
 
 He turned his face to Floret. 
 
 * : My poor child I" he murmured ; " my poor 
 girl ; how you have been wronged ; how you 
 must have suffered. O ! if I had but known 
 that you were mine what happiness what 
 joy it would have been to me, to have reared 
 you, to have loved you, to have made you my 
 pride my happiness !" 
 
 Constance wept in an agonized manner. 
 Every word was a poisoned dagger plunged 
 into her heart. 
 
 Floret, too, was overcome with intense emo- 
 tion. Those unusual words of tenderness ; 
 those tokens of recognition ; those acknowl- 
 edgments of paternal love, overwhelmed her, 
 and took away from her all power but that 
 ofweeping. 
 
 The hot tears, too, poured down Bertram's 
 cheeks ; and for a minute or so there was a 
 dead silence. 
 
 The Earl broke it. He said to Floret, ten- 
 derly : 
 
OR, THE FATE OP THE POOR GIRL.: 
 
 "Kiss me my dear child too late known 
 -too shortly beloved I" 
 
 O, how poor Floret clung ronnd his neck. 
 Nature exerted her supremacy ; for, though 
 Floret had not actually, until this moment, 
 been eure that the Earl was her father she 
 felt, as she clung to him, that he was indeed 
 BO now ; that she could love him with an excess 
 of filial tenderness; and that that love was 
 created in her breast at the very moment he 
 was about to be snatched from cer. 
 
 And then she shrank hastily back, as though 
 ahe had overstepped some limit which she 
 ..should not have passed ; and she looked tim- 
 idly at her mother looked at her only to 
 bring her to her feet, and implore of her, in 
 wild accents, to forgive the long course of cru- 
 elty which she had practiced toward ker. 
 
 What could Floret do, but fling her arms 
 about her mother's neck, sob upon her bosom, 
 and entreat of her pot to speak ef forgiveness, 
 for that her recognition of her now had oblit- 
 erated the past from her memory. 
 
 The Earl turned his eyes to Constance, and 
 said, in almost unearthly tones : 
 
 " I ieel that I &m sinking fast, and that the 
 time is rapidly approaching when I shall cease 
 to be. Constance, my loye- my first love 
 my only and my lost love, when I am gone, 
 believe that I only regarded you in these last 
 moments as when 1 met you as young, 
 bright, beautiful as she who new stands by 
 your side our child. Constance, I know that 
 you loved me ; and that, though your mind 
 was estranged f> oin me, it returned back to its 
 old affect ion, and would hare remained firm 
 and loyal to it to the last ' 
 
 "O Bertram, Bertram!" cried Constance, 
 Btill upon her knees, " hear me believe me, 
 in the face of the Supreme Creator, who gazes 
 down upon us both at this dread moment, that 
 I speak the truth to you. I have been true 
 to you, Bertram my husband true to that 
 marriage- vow which bound my honor to yours 
 true in thought, in deed, in look. Chaste, I 
 swear, Bertram. Do not die without believing 
 in your heart and soul, that the immaculate 
 purity, which you purchased at the altar with 
 solemn vows, bears, even now, not a tinge or 
 taint of shame upon it." 
 
 " I die happy 1" he ejaculated, with a fervor 
 which language woula only inadequately de- 
 scribe. 
 
 " Happy!" ejaculated a hoarse voice. 
 " Look upon my face and repeat those words ?" 
 
 They all turned, and beheld Hagar Lot 
 standing close behind them. 
 
 The Marchioness sprang to her feet. 
 
 " "Wretch ! monster ! fiend !" she exclaimed, 
 excitedly ; " how dare you intrude into this 
 chamber of death?" 
 
 She raised her hand to pull a bell, the han 
 die of whish was near to her, violently ; but 
 Hagar caught her by the wrist, and held her 
 firmly. 
 
 Bertram turned his faint eyes upon her, and 
 muttered : 
 
 4S I have wrorged you deeply your pres- 
 
 ence here rebukes me. I grieve deeply fori&fe 
 wrocg I inflicted upon you. I pray you gfc- 
 don me !" 
 
 Constance looked at both amazed ; but & 
 recovered herself somewhat, and flung off 
 hand of Hagar, and, catching the bell-re 
 pulled it violently. 
 
 At the same moment Bertram whispered, 
 hurriedly : 
 
 "My wife my child one last embrace!^ 
 
 They bent, sobbing, over him, and CoEsfcasg* 
 pressed her lips to hia. Floret took his cpHf 
 hand, and kissed it, end rained tears upon it 
 
 Hagar Lot seemingly, with a ouddea Easi- 
 ness, dragged Floret back ; and then 
 seizing the wrist of the Marchioness, so 
 she shrieked with pain, she dragged her 
 Bertram's motionless form. 
 
 " The place ef the Countess of Brackleigkie 
 here, side by side with me!" she cried, 
 low and fierce tones ; " but it is her spirit 
 whicla hovers above us, for she ia dead 
 of a broken heart; slain slain by him 
 lies there. My hour is near at hand, sst& 
 think you, woman, that you can escape." 
 
 She gripped the wrist of the Countees agsa^ 
 and caused her such acute pain that etas 
 shrieked with agony. 
 
 Then, as the door opened hastily, she fiuqg 
 off her hand, and glided out of the epartmesti, 
 unnoticed by the several persona who entered! 
 excitedly, believing that the worst had hs^p 
 pened. 
 
 And so it had. 
 
 The Earl was dead ! 
 
 CHAPTER LXIL 
 
 " From henre let proud resisting mortals know 
 The arm parental and indulgent blow. 
 To Heaven's corrective rod submissive bend c 
 Adore its wisdom, on its power depend ; 
 Whilst rulicg justice guides eternal sway, 
 Let Nature tremble, and let man obey.' 1 
 
 THE EARL OP ESSEZ 
 
 After a long fit of insensibility, Constarjc% 
 when restored to life, displayed remarkafofe 
 calmness and firmness of manner. She was 
 very ghastly pale, weak in voice, feeble ia. 
 movement, but singularly self-possessed a 
 emotionless. 
 
 She directed, as soon as the coffin, had b<xa 
 constructed and the Earl placed in it, that h* 
 should be convey ed to Brackleigh maE&ioa, 
 She sent for the father of the late Countess,, 
 who was there grieving over the sad fate 
 his daughter, and she was alone in conversa- 
 tion witn him an hour or more. 
 
 The result of that conversation was, that &bt 
 Earl and Countess were buried in one grav*. 
 
 She herself directed, with the same remark 
 able control of ail emotion, and superintend*! 
 the funeral obsequies of the Marquis of 
 oh ester. 
 
 The duel had been preserved as a 
 and he was buried wiih all the pomp and 
 geantry he could have wished had he 
 living. 
 
 Lord Nihilalbum &rould have been. 
 mourner, but he was laid up with a 
 
228 
 
 HAGAR LOT ; 
 
 wound, which he had receded in a duel with 
 the Marquis of Broadlands. The bullet of the 
 latter had shattered the forearm which direct- 
 ed his own pistol. He had been carried, 
 strangely enough by hid own deeire, to the 
 mansion of the late Marquis of Westchester, 
 which, he had for yeara looked upon as a eec- 
 ond home, and he was there chiefly attended 
 by Fane, who had returned with the Marchion- 
 ess for a short time to Westehester House, to 
 superintend the removal of everything which 
 belonged to her, and to make those final ar- 
 rangements which should terminate her con- 
 nection wLh that house for ever. 
 
 The Marquis, the Earl, and his Countess 
 were buried, rather by accident than by de- 
 sign, on the same day, but far apart ; and af- 
 ter that day the Marchioness addressed her- 
 self to Lady Susan Vaughan, and made Floret 
 her medium of communication. 
 
 Astbe object was the restoration of ICa to 
 her legi.imate position, it may be imagined 
 with what pleasure, sad r.a she was, Floret un- 
 dertook her task. 
 
 It, may be imagined, also, with what felicity 
 Ida found herself restored to her mother, who 
 had recovered her senses completely, and who 
 coveted her now grand position only for the 
 sake of her daughter. 
 
 It mw be likewise imagined that the Hon. 
 Hyde Vaughan contemplated the change in 
 Ida's condition with gratification, which was 
 heightened we dare not say how much by 
 the naive confession of Ida to him, that she 
 was delighted with her changed position, be- 
 cause ifc would enable her to meet him, talk to 
 him, think of him as her equal, not as an 
 Apoilo, who was a deity far above her 
 reach. 
 
 "VTiih the installation of the Marchioness of 
 "VVestchester, nee Ada Vian, and her daughter, 
 in her true position, Constance devoted her- 
 self to the placing Floret no more, but Con- 
 stance now in htr proper position. 
 
 Ficret, in some long conversation which 
 had taken place between them, frankly ac- 
 quainted her with all that had taken place be- 
 tween her end Victor, Marquis of Broadlands. 
 Constance instantly summoned him to meet 
 herself and Floret, and she laid before him, 
 without reserve, the history of her own mar- 
 riage with the Viscount Bertram and of Floret's 
 birsh, together with her subsequent desertion 
 of her. (She furnished him, also, with ail the 
 necessary evidence which would support her 
 statements ; but he returned them to her, and 
 told her that he should still have felt honored 
 by the hand of Floret, if she had remained 
 whit be had found her a POOR GIRL. 
 
 In hia bands, however, the Marchioness in- 
 sisted on depositing all the necessary docu 
 ments, and to him and to the Lady Henrietta 
 Plantagenet she devolved the task of placing 
 Floret's true position before the world. 
 
 She eeemed all thia time to be the victim of 
 an a tack of atrophy. She grew feebler, 
 weaker, thinner, every day. Stiii she exerted { 
 
 herself resolutely to finish and complete all th<J 
 tasks she had set herself to perform. 
 
 And she did them all. 
 
 Then she was missed from Plantagenet 
 Honse. 
 
 Search was made in vain for her in every 
 direction. 
 
 At the end of the week, the bodies of two 
 women were discovered by the Marquis of 
 Broadlands, during an unflagging search for 
 Constance, both dead, at the foot of the grave 
 of the Earl and Countess of Brackleigh. 
 
 One was fair, aristocratic in appearance and 
 dress, but thin, and wasted to a shadow. 
 
 The other was a gipsy. 
 
 The weather had been wild and stormy the 
 whole week. The drenched garments of both 
 women told that they had been exposed to the 
 fury of the tempests from their commence- 
 ment. 
 
 To the faded scirlet cloak of the gipsy was 
 appended a paper, upon which was written 
 some words which, from the ink having been 
 saturated with water, were scarcely deciphera- 
 ble ; they were, however, made out, and ran 
 as follows : 
 
 " I have fallen by my own band. I die at the foet cf 
 the grave of kirn whom I loved, and who rained and 
 destroyed me. By my side lies the woman, dead, who 
 stole h's heart from me. Her life WAS forfeit t-> me. 
 I took it with niy own fatal grip. She came here to 
 die. I watched her, and did not disturb her Iwt mo- 
 ments. She died with a blessing for him on her lips : 
 [ coupled with ifc a curse. Myepiritia now following 
 hera, to appear at the bar of Eternal Justice.** 
 
 An ancnjmous communication directed 
 the Marquis of Broadlands to the spot where 
 he discovered them. He kept the paper, had 
 the body of Constance conveyed to her home, 
 and the body of Hagar Lot he surrendered to 
 some gipsies, who came forward and claimed 
 it, and who interred it with their own rite? and 
 ceremonies. 
 
 Constance, was buried privately, and f tren- 
 uous efforts were made to avoid everything 
 which would set the merciless tongues of so- 
 ciety in motion ; and the efforts succeeded, for 
 the sad events, strange as they were, did not 
 even become a nine- days' wonder. 
 
 #*** 
 
 Twelve months had passed away, and let us 
 examine what then was the situation. We 
 know the fates of the Marquis of Westohester, 
 of Constance and Bertram, of the Countess of 
 Brackleigh, and of Hagar Lot. Let us see 
 bow the other folks progressed during thai 
 period. 
 
 First of all, let us revert to Liper Leper. 
 
 After the death of Hagar Lot, he presented 
 himself before Floret in the plain drees of a 
 gentleman. She scarcely knew him in this 
 b, yet a glance at his melancholy eyes and 
 pensive face enabled her to recognize him. 
 
 She was in deep mourning, still in grief at 
 the loss of her new-found peients, but her 
 countenance was hopeful, and it was plain to 
 iiim that she was looking forward to a happy 
 future. 
 
 His face, on the contrary, wore a hopelesj 
 expression. 
 
OR, THE FATE OF THE POOR GIRL. 
 
 229 
 
 " I appear before you, White Rose," he said, 
 u to take my farewell of you forever ! ' 
 
 " Do not say BO, Liper," she responded, a 
 tear springing into her eye. 
 
 " Nay," he said sadly, " I have no tie to 
 bind me longer here." " 
 
 " Not one not one 0, Liper ! not one ?" 
 she asked, earnestly. 
 
 " Not one," he replied, slowly shaking his 
 head. 
 
 " You are cruel," she returned, with emotion. 
 " Liper, you were to me a brother, a savior, 
 more than a friend ; but for you, in my mis- 
 ery, what could I have done ? You shielded 
 me from evil, protected me from harm, conn- 
 aeled me when I was bewildered, turned me 
 from willfulness when I should have erred, 
 soothed me when my overcharged heart was 
 bursting, supported, sustained, enabled me to 
 appear in the position to which I have arrived 
 without a blusn on my cheek, without a mem- 
 ory which rankles in my brain. Liper, do you 
 thick I have a short-lived memory ? Do you 
 think I have no heart no feeling ? Do you 
 think I do not regard you as one of the dear- 
 est ties which bind me to life ? O Liper, you 
 wrong my nature, you pain me cruelly, you 
 wound me greatly indeed, you do I" ^ 
 
 He bit his lip, and compressed his hands 
 together, as she turned irom him. Then, 
 when able to command his voice, he said, with 
 a slight quiver in its tone : 
 
 " White Rose my own pure, fair White 
 Rose do not misconceive me. I know your 
 nature no living, breathing, creature knows 
 it better. I worship it, for it ia high and noble, 
 and pure all that can make woman resemble, 
 not alone an angel, but' a goddess. I rever- 
 ence it, too, for it bears a true women's pure, 
 loving, gentle heart. Think you, White Rose, 
 knowing this, that I could believe you to be 
 unmindful of the days we have passed togeth- 
 er, of the scenes we have paee ed through, of 
 the trifling services which I have been enabled 
 to render you ? No, it is your generous grati- 
 tude which not alone amply repays me, but 
 serves as a tie to bind me to life. O flower 
 of young and sweet womanly sympathy! I 
 appreciate your tenderness and consideration 
 to me as warmly and as earnestly as if it were 
 dictated by the same love which was borne to 
 me in my childhood by my sister, who is in 
 the epirit-land. Like, however, that shining 
 love, I can from a distance offer up to it my 
 adoration from a distance. White Rose, 1 
 shall regard your gentle gratitude, your gen- 
 erous wishes, and your to me most dear es- 
 teem, as the lode-star which will conduct me 
 through the path of honor to the goal I hope 
 to attain. Most deeply, most gratefully, do I 
 accept your kind sympathy, flower of my 
 soul ! so dearly that it wins from me the last 
 regret I should have in leaving this land, for 
 now I know that I bear with me your sisterly 
 affection. My love lies buried in a gipsy's 
 grave ; but my remembrance of you, O fair 
 and tender lily I will still make the world in 
 which I go to offer my life in the cause of lib- 
 
 erty, a paradise ; the laurels I may gain, green, 
 shining, and glorious, because your gentle 
 thoughts will be with me your sweet praise 
 be bestowed upon them. Farewell 1 O white 
 and spotless flower of your race ! and if the 
 prayers of one so humble in the eyes of 
 Heaven as myself, can influence favorably 
 your future, so as to insure it being one of un- 
 alloyed happiness, be assured of those of him 
 known only to you aa Liper Leper I" 
 
 He bent his knee to her, pressed his lips to 
 her hand, and, before her trembling voice 
 could make itself heard, he disappeared. 
 
 She felt when he had departed, as though 
 she had lost a dear and valued friend by death, 
 and she did not that day quit her room 
 again. 
 
 Of Fanny Shelley, it may be said that she 
 was fully restored to her eenEes. After she 
 had got over the death of the Marchioness, 
 who had provided for her amply, she lived 
 very h&ppily, and is living very happily with 
 Stephen Vere. 
 
 Certainly, Mrs. Henry Vere is quite as hap- 
 py as Fanny, and perhaps a little more so ; 
 because she has got a sturdy young Harry or 
 two, and because our friend, Bob we can't 
 tell you his other name, or else you wauld 
 drop in at his nice house at Fimlico, taste his 
 half-and-half, and look admiringly at his bet- 
 ter-half we say, and because Bob has mar- 
 ried Susan's tall sister, and is ex-tremely jolly 
 at least, if you aek Lim, whether be ia or 
 not, he is sure* to answer you, ' I thick so !" 
 
 By the way, Susan's sister "Emly" told 
 Mrs. Spencer, who is now housekeeper to tha 
 Marquis of Broadlands, in a great grand house 
 in Eaton square, that the double harness fold 
 was by no means a too strong manifestation oi 
 ecstasy, and that she had come to think that it 
 was a very nice sort of institution. 
 
 Of Daddy Windy it will, perhaps, suffice to 
 say, that he still lives in the same ambrosical 
 quarter, Bermondsey ; etill enjoys his evening 
 pipe and his warm "Jamaiker". He was 
 grieved at the loss of Floret, but after all h 
 bore her departure stoically, for he siid to 
 himself, when he found that she had taken 
 flight : 
 
 " Pard'ner, she's a little too old in the tooth 
 for us. Ve vants another younaf primrose as 
 '11 sell wilets, and pull in the suv'rins as if they 
 wus candy drops that's what we want, pard'- 
 ner, that's what we want, though I'm most 
 afeard ve shan't lay' hold on another Vite 
 Roee!" 
 
 We are unable to give a favorable account 
 of Nat Ferret. His exertions to get a " stun- 
 nin' pub" and the fair party were not crowned 
 with success. 
 
 The fair party, that is Fane, unhappily list- 
 ened to the pereuaeions of Lord Nihilalbum, 
 and went off with him. Nat met her magnifi- 
 cently dressed, riding in a brougham, and en- 
 deavored to apeak to her, but she ordered her 
 coachman to horsewhip him, which he did. 
 
 Nat took to dricking, squandered away the 
 money he had saved, and is now one of the 
 
230 
 
 HAGAR LOT : 
 
 disreputable partiee who prowl about race 
 courses, and who are significantly termec 
 "Welohers 1 '. 
 r Lord Nihilalbum never got over the wounc 
 he received from the pistol-bullet of Lord 
 Victor. His horse one day threw him, he 
 broke his arm in the place where it had been 
 previously splintered, and so badly that he 
 was compelled to have it amputated. He de- 
 layed it through want of courage so long that 
 it mortified and carried him o IF. He left the 
 frail Fane unprovided for, and she is now in 
 misery lamenting that she is not a virtuous 
 publican's wife. 
 
 ' Susan Vere, after her return from Canada, 
 received a communication from Hatty Marr, 
 full of inquiiies and full of information. It 
 informed her that Hatty had gone out to New 
 Zealand, and had there married a Judge a 
 good judge he was, too, to secure so nice a 
 girl as Hatty. 
 
 And now, reaching up to the end of the 
 year, we are called upon to record the mar- 
 riage of Hyde Vaughan and Ida, with every 
 prospect of fature felicity to both. And not 
 only that, but the wedding also of Lady Adela 
 Trevor, who was also united io one who loved 
 her for herself, and whom she loved for every 
 qualification which could possibly endear him 
 to the heart of a woman. 
 . And having provided thus for all, we arrive, 
 in conclusion, at the wedding of Floret and 
 Lord Victor we use the two names by which 
 they are best known to the reader. 
 i The wedding was a brilliant one, the com- 
 pany numerous and distinguished, the appear- 
 ance of Floret dazzling, the homage she re- 
 ceived such aa altnost to turn her 'brain, and 
 the congratulations showered rapon her were of 
 a kind to make her proud indeed. 
 I Yet she felt happier still when, one week 
 afterward, seated alone with Lord Victor upon 
 a grassy knoll, weaving a bouquet from flow- 
 ers which he had gathered from the vicinity of 
 a clear pool near to them, ehe placed her 
 hand upon his shoulder, and said, pointing to 
 it : "It WM there, Victor, you firat saw me, 
 
 Bhoeles*, penniless. Now I am your wife. I': 
 was then happy to attract your notice, happy 
 that you received my poor offering of wild 
 flowers" 
 
 He placed his hand in his bosom, and from { 
 beneath his vest, attached to a gold chain, h 
 broaght out a flat gold locket of some size. 
 
 " Behold the flowers!" he exclaimed, and be 
 kissed them. 
 
 She placed her lips to his cheek. 
 
 "I little thought then," she said, with 
 tears in her eye*, " to be what I am, and as I 
 am now. I am so so happy." 
 
 " Bless you, my darling wife !" he exclaim- 
 ed, folding hi3 aims about her. I love you 
 truthfully, and I hope, Floret, like a true man 
 and holding you in my arms thue, loving 
 you devotedly as I dobelieving that as you 
 are a priceless treasure to me, so I am to you 
 let me express my fervent hope that we may 
 never cease to love each other as dearly as we 
 do now while we are spared to each other ; in 
 that case, dearest, as you no longer are, so you 
 can no longer be a PoorGirll" 
 
 " And, Victor, dearest," she rejoined, fond- 
 ly, " let us in remembrance of my etracge his- 
 tory, take upon ou/selves the grateful duty, 
 whenever and wherever we can perform it, of 
 making our way amorg the toilers, the work- 
 ers, the needle-slaves tlie Poor Girls : those 
 who need help and cannot help themselves ; 
 those whom we, out of our ample store, can 
 help, and whose heavy burdens we can tighten 
 with simple monetary assistance, whose cares 
 we can alleviate, whose griefs we can assuage, 
 whose miseries we can remove. There are 
 many Florets in the world, dear, dear Victor 
 many who need aid more grievouely, more j 
 desperately than I did ; let us seek them out, 
 and remember, dearest, while we mingle with 
 them, how sorely I needed a friend, so that we 
 may be to them friends and helpers" 
 
 44 And make them blees the circumstances," 
 he whispered, as, kissing her fondly, he press- 
 ed her to his heart, " that, like themselves, 
 you, you, my own love, were one a Poo 
 Gun. 1 ' 
 

 
 (P2001S10) 
 
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