of wishing to overtake and prevent Arbella, and Miss Sagely looking at her mother, they exchanged glances of mutual regret at the indecorum of her young companion; while they perhaps secretly exulted in the eccentricities of one often superior to them, and were not sorry to find themselves, by a lucky chance, thus in at the death of her discretion. Crossing a large and empty hall, they entered a room into which Arbella had already penetrated; but, as if struck motionless at the scene that presented itself, she no longer offered to lead on her companions: she stood with clasped hands, and a countenance in which horror was deeply painted, exclaiming, "That Sir Harold was addressing a spirit." The sun, which was just setting, shed, from its parting rays, a gloomy richness over the large and magnificent apartment. The crimson curtains of a huge gothic window were partly drawn, and discovered Sir Harold in an attitude of fervent supplication, addressing a figure, which, though partly shrouded in the gloom, yet, from the aërial transparency of that part of the outline which was

visible, and the fleecy whiteness of the vestments that enfolded it, might well pass for an inhabitant of the other world. A single beam, that darted through the dim pane, fell on Sir Harold's countenance, and discovered it to be more pale and haggard than usual; his lips moved with earnestness; and the few words that could be caught of what fell from him, appeared those of invocation; but the silence of the mysterious being he addressed was not to be moved. Yet she bent over him, in an attitude of Madona tenderness. Those features, though wasted almost to spiritual transparency, could still boast the line of beauty; but the pale, wan tint with which they were overcast, their fixed, waxlike regularity, had something that appalled the mind, as being too lovely to belong to death's dominion, yet no longer varying or animated by the breath of life. Lady Torrendale, the moment the figure met her view, uttered a piercing shriek, and fell senseless to the ground-it was some moments before she could be recovered, and, when she was, she continued to exclaim, in a piercing ac

cent, "She calls me, she calls me, I shall not long survive her-take, take me from this chamber of horrors." She repeated these words so unceasingly, and with such vehemence, that, fearful of her being attacked with hysterics, her female friends hastened to have her conveyed back into the air-but Sir Harold, turning with solemn earnestness to Mrs. and Miss Melbourne, and laying a hand on each, said, "You do not go." Arbella terrified, shocked, and ashamed of what she had done, still lingered in a kind of irresolute curiosity; and the same motive tempted those who could be spared from Lady Torrendale, to prolong their unwelcome intrusion. The presence of so many strangers produced a visible effect upon the fair incomprehensible being, whose sanctuary they had invaded. Advancing towards them with a courteous but hurried accent, "I thank you good ladies," she cried; "Thank you, thank you, good ladies and gentlemen-you are come to rescue me, but this is not the hour! The clock has scarce struck seven-one, two, three, four, five," she reckoned over the

At twelve I

numbers with inconceivable rapidity, "five hours of liberty still remain. shall require your assistance." sweet earnestness, and in the

And, with a attitude and

tone of a Belvidera, she repeated, "remember twelve." A smile of angel brightness for a moment illumined her faded features; but the eyes that should have spoken the language of the soul, vacant and wandering, shewed that the nobler faculties, which dis tinguish and exalt the intellectual nature, informed no more their lovely mansion.

Sir Harold, who had appeared extremely disturbed during the whole of this address, which he had been unable to prevent, now turned to the intruders with added fierceness,

away, away, officious meddling beings," he cried, "do you not fear to break in upon the sacredness of a solitude like this?" But his endeavours were rendered ineffectual by the emotion of the lovely sufferer, who, on observing his menacing tone and gesture, clung terrified to his arm, exclaiming, in a plaintive accent, "Oh Harold, oh my son, not, not again for me; remember I have none

now left but you, my Harold-let no more blood be shed-let not-"

"Heavens! Lady Julia Melbourne, has she not been dead some years ago," exclaimed several voices at once.

bourne-is it possible?"

"Lady Julia Mel

Yes, it is possible," cried Sir Harold,. with a sternness, and in a tone that thrilled every heart with horror. "You have at length torn from me my secret, discovered the wreck of all that was great and lovely. That wreck which I would have mourned in secret. This is Lady Julia Melbourne. This is my only parent, she, who, snatched from the gay thoughtless scene which she adorned, was regretted a moment, pitied, and forgotten; but she did not die. The cruelty which destroyed her nobler part, sanctioned that falsehood too. At this moment the most violent agitation seized Lady Julia.

They are come to take me," she cried, "they will again hide me from you-do not, do not again leave me to the mercy of my enemies."

"Fear it not," cried Sir Harold, kneeling