UC-NRLF 111 HAGAR LOT; : the ute f the in WL 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) Y 1027 1 8