ONE afternoon, Mrs. Stanly sat by her window, which overlooked the street. A dark, heavy thunder cloud, which had long brooded in the west, like some rebellious army, forbearing to advance to terrible conflict only until it gathered together all its force, slowly spread over the sky, deepening and blackening as it overshadowed the city. While shopkeepers were hastily removing their goods into their houses, carriages and carts dashed by to gain shelter, and the foot-passengers, with the same design, followed each other along the street with quickened step, the the pensive wife continued gazing out upon the scene, and watching the precursors of the approaching storm, with a heart which she thought as heavy, and as fraught with the elements of warfare, as the slowly moving vapour that lowered over her head. Her husband had been away for nearly two days, and her youngest, and, perhaps, on account of its helplessness, her dearest

VOL. V.

child, was lying on the bed, in the crisis of a painful and dangerous sickness.

He had just fallen into a still and deep slumber, and the mother rose to gaze on his pale, beautiful face, with feelings of heavy and tremulous anguish. The white forehead was slightly shaded by clustering ringlets of gold which her fond hand had arranged upon his brow; the blue-veined eyelids hid the large orbs whose azure beauty had so often enchanted her heart; his fevered cheeks, faintly streaked with crimson, resembled the virgin rose-leaf which the spring has scarcely unfolded to the light, and the lips seemed about to smile, as if falling into their most natural position.

It was the very face of his father as it had risen upon the dream of her earlier days, in the vigour of health and manly beauty, and lit with the fire of devoted and successful love; and, as the incidents of the few wretched years which had since elapsed came over her mind, and she ac

F

knowledged that life had deceived her, and might, even if he retained it, thus blight the budding affections of her boy, tears rose into her eyes, she bent down her head upon his bosom, and wept.

These were not the tears of childhood, which gush from the eyes and pass away like April showers; for their sorrows darken the mind, as the shadows of snowy clouds cross the summer stream, and leave no impression behind; but she shed burning drops, which ruined hope and wrecked love wrung from her breaking heart, with a rudeness that injured all the secret springs of life.

She was startled by the slamming of a door below. A hasty step stalked along the hall; and in a moment her husband stood before her.

He was agitated and his lips were stained with wine. His dress was disordered. His haggard face bore the signs of strong emotion as well as of prolonged revelry, and his eyes flashed with fierce and unrestrained passion.

His wife raised her head as he entered, and the sight of her grief increased his fury.

66 Drivelling fool!" he exclaimed, “ are you in the conspiracy too, which the world seems forming against my peace? I have been insulted and defrauded! and, when I return to my home, where a man should meet cheerfulness and consolation, why must I be welcomed with tears, and looked on as a monster? Where are the servants? Where?"

"I have sent William for the doctor; for George is sick, and I weep for him."

"Why, what's the matter with George?" asked he, flinging himself into a chair, and turning his eyes toward the sleeping boy.

"He has a dreadful fever. He was sick when you went out, you know, and he has been growing worse ever since."

"Where's the money I left with you?" "I have laid it in the drawer." "Get it for me; I want it." "George, dear George!" cried Mrs. Stanly, laying her trembling hand upon his shoulder, "you are not going out again to night? Our child is sick, and

"Well, you told me he was sick before. I cannot make him well by staying here, mewed up in his chamber. Give me the money. I must go."

"You will not, you cannot leave me now! he may die before morning; and, if you go away now, I know very well I shall not see you again for hours and hours."

"Well, let him die, if it is his fate: as for me, I must fulfil my engagements-if you all die."

A crash of thunder pealed along the sky, as if the voice of heaven spoke against his brutality; but snatching away the purse, he rushed out of the house with the same impetuosity which had marked his

entrance.

During the night, the child's disorder increased. He continued in great pain till about three in the morning, when, lifting up his languid eyes to his mother, he put out his little pale lips to kiss her, and died.

Stanly was at the gambling-table. He had lost and lost, and drowned the consciousness of his awful guilt in repeated draughts, till, with a reeling brain, and a conscience whose sharp stings drove him almost to delirium, he knew that he was utterly and irretrievably ruined.

As the morning began to dawn, and nature was working her still sweet task upon the reddening sky and over the odourbreathing earth, changing them, like thought, from one shape and tinge to another, the repentant husband bent his solitary way to his dwelling, and entered with noiseless step. He opened the door of his apart

ment.

His wife raised her dim eyes with an expression so sad, that his heart smote him for his cruelty, and he felt humbled with the consciousness of guilt and degradation.

As his tumultuous passions subsided, the feelings which had long rushed with a resistless current in forbidden channels, returned into their natural course, as a stream, which accident has driven from its banks, flows back again, at last, to its common level.

"Constance," he said, and his kind, affectionate voice soothed her, for she expected his usual violence-" Constance, -I am a villain. I have ruined myself and you. Our dear boy is a beggar; while he sleeps in tranquil innocence, I am here to inform you that, by gambling, we are all beggars."

"Yes," said the mother, while her pale cheek grew paler, and her voice quivered, yes, my husband, he sleeps indeed; but it is to wake no more.'

"Merciful Heaven! what is it you mean?" exclaimed he.

Silently she uncovered the infant's face, and revealed to his horror-struck father, features whose fixed and marble stillness told that the universal tyrant had completed his work.