saints preserve me," said Ursula; "what persevering people these English heretics are. Lady Clara, the gates are going to be shut." Mordaunt dropped the piastres in her pocket as she turned away. “I must now leave you," said Clara; and then in a low yet firm tone, "Mordaunt, you remem bered me in distress and in danger. You preferred me to those children of the world who possess more dazzling qualities. I will not injure a faith so strongly tried by a second suspicion; and what better proof of my confidence can I give, than that which you demand. Go where you will, I will follow; in the sight of our holy altars, in the sight of that altar holier still, the starry heaven above us, I am your's and your's for ever!" "Then to-morrow, my Clara," cried the exulting Mordaunt, "to-morrow I will return to claim the fallment of your promise.To-morrow you shall exchange your sables for white. You shall make no vows, but such as I may listen to. You shall quit this prison for the world." The convent bell tolled. "Farewell, till to-morrow."-"Adieu," said Clara, wiping a joyous tear from her cheek. Mordaunt pressed her hand, and was gone. Not to wander too long from scenes and characters more essential to the develope ment of our tale, suffice it to say, that, every obstacle overcome, at an early hour on the following morning, at the altar of her convent, Mordaunt received the hand of his young bride; and in three days more they bad embarked for England. The effect of a sensitive and animated spirit opening in its full vigour upon scenes and objects scarcely within the comprehension of its hitherto limited view, was a high source of novelty and interest to Mordaunt. Were a child gifted with the power of ex. pressing with clearness its perception of eve ry sight of wonder that first met its gaze, the effect produced might be something similar. Every feature of Clara's expressive countenance was in perpetual play. The minuteness and singularity of her inquiries, the expression of surprise and admiration with which she surveyed the new world of life, were strongly contrasted with the apathy and indifference with which they were regarded by the multitude around her. "What is this sensation that overpowers me," she exclaimed to Mordaunt, "these feelings to which I can scarcely give a name? Is it that happiness is more difficult to bear than grief? I am like the blind to whom sight has been suddenly given. Every object teems with wonder and delight. Surely the God of Nature could never have formed so fair a world to condemn his creatures to abandon it altogether. They judged wrong who would teach religion by a life of solitude and gloom. It is only the light and joyous heart that beats with the true pulse of gratitude towards the Giver of all this glorious variety of good."-" Your remarks have opened a new speculation to me," returned Mordaunt, smiling. "When the glow of life has deserted me, and this world begins to pall, I will most assuredly turn monk for a period, shut out the earth, and then bursting from my shell, like a chrysalis spread my wings to summer and sunshine. I have somewhere read of an Eastern monarch who offered half his kingdom to the man who should light upon an unknown pleasure. Had this worthy sultan lived in my time, inspired with this happy idea, I should without doubt present myself at his palace gate, and claim the recompense." Perhaps I do wrong," said Clara, timidly, almost afraid of his raillery, "to expatiate upon feelings in which your higher understanding cannot be supposed to share. I will henceforth check my astonishment. Our delights should be in common, and yet may I not enjoy these wonders, since it is to you that I owe them all." And sinking her head upon his shoulder, the grateful and lovely girl gave vent to her heart in tears of joy. CHAPTER XXIX. He's cautious, Sir, he's subtle, he's a courtier, And loves the sunshine. On his gilded, wings The scales once fixed, he'll settle on the winner, Young. CATHERINE GREVILLE, ever since Vaughan's departure, had remained the guest, or rather, the inmate of his mother's house; far from sighing after the gay society to which she had been accustomed, as Mrs. Vaughan had been inclined to fear, she seemed peculiarly disposed to relish the quiet and rational mode of life adopted by her friend. She besides enjoyed the secret satisfaction of being secure of receiving the first intelligence of Vaughan's safety. Mrs. Courtney, rejoiced at being thus freed from the charge of one on whom she had so long looked with a jealous eye, had made not the slightest overture towards receiving her again. She had written once or twice, at stated intervals, to her "most vaJued sister-in-law," and her "dearest niece." Her letters were the perfection of adroit coldness, and they were always read by Catherine with indifference, and thrown by with contempt. Julia, with whom her mother had never been prevailed upon to hold any communication from the hour of her marriage, and who had lived in great retirement and dejection since her husband's departure, having no resource in her tenderness, had taken up her abode near her aunt and cousin. Lady Lovemore whirling in a round of brilliant dissipation, had never troubled herself with recollecting her existence. Fashion was her goddess, and the. fashionable alone could lay claim to her patrician notice. "Julia had not married as she might have done-they would probably never cross each other's path again." Philip, whose policy was of a deeper and more subtle nature than that of the various members of his worldly family, had alone continued to keep up a casual and even civil intercourse with the neglected Catherine. He had more than once, in his rambles through the country, found his way to Mrs. Vaughan's cottage, and had even condescended to become her guest for two or three days at a time. His idle and extravagant habits had now almost estranged him from his professional pursuits, and all his hope rested upon the fortunate result of one |