parents had encouraged the match-that young Walter Carroll's present wealth and future prospects were more to them than all the love in the world. | hat, with its drooping plume and the additional ornament of a green wreath placed there in jest by her young lover. n, with a served and so. when felt that he Very little was said to my uncle on the subject of the quarBut Helen loved him-I felt that she did-bitter as was the rel-stiil less to my aunt; and now, while Helen reclines on thought. How could she otherwise? Had he not been my that couch in the deep window, and Walter sits beside her, rival I could have loved him myself-the handsome, manly making pretence to read, but slily holding her little finfellow ! They wished me to be present at the ceremony.gers, I will sketch the portraits of my elder relatives as they "Helen was very earnest about it," so my uncle wrote, and I appeared on that evening. My uncle was writing--we were in had determined to go, even while I wondered if I could feel the library, and three sides of the lofty room were e ered with worse had the summons called me to see my beautiful cousin books. He was a tall, pale, intellectual-looklaid in her grave. noble brow, dark, full eyebrows, and a rather haughty air. His mouth was firm-almost too his eyes were cast down; but in their glance you had a heart. He had but few weaknesses in his life; but of these few love for his only daughter was predominant ; in fact, it was almost the only subject on which he could not reason. Helen had always ruled, and I believe he rather rejoiced in her tyranny. He had married my aunt because his uncle, whose ward he was, had advised the match; she was an heiress: their estates joined; her high opinion of her own value had brought her in single blessedness to the very verge of old maidism; he had passed the season of youthful follies; it was a suitable match, and everybody applauded. While Helen had remained with her parents, I had hope to feed my love; I might some day be wealthy enough to claim her who could tell? My great uncle, Paul Hastings, whose godson and namesake I was, might take it into his eccentric head to come home from India, bringing all the wealth report said he had acquired there during his twenty years' sojourn among the Hindoos; then I might acquire fame and fortune in my profession-but of this I was not very sanguine, and as I had few patients, and my uncle had taken no notice of my letters for the past ten years, I cannot say that my hopes had very firm foundations. But the future was now to be a blank; I had no motive for labor, when I must no longer think upon my pretty cousin no wish to possess wealth which she could not share. With a sad heart I made arrangements to leave London for a week; and at the end of a day and a night was in sight of the residence of my uncle, Marmaduke Lansdowne, Esq., of Brooklands. The coach left me at the lodge gate (they knew nothing of the time of my arrival, and there had been no carriage to meet me; but that was my own fault), and giving my carpetbag in charge to old Simon I walked slowly along towards the house, of which I could occasionally catch glimpses between the boughs of the chestnut trees, under whose shade Helen and I had spent many a happy hour. I almost expected to see her start out from behind one of the great brown trunks, as in the olden time, her white frock and blue ribbons flying, her brown curls tangled and her beautiful face flushed with excitement in the chase of bird or butterfly. But it was no time to indulge in sentimental retrospections now; so I walked on the grass to take the dust from my boots, gave a trifling arrangement to my disordered hair, and made myself look as respectable as possible before entering my stately aunt's most immaculate presence. I reached the entrance at last, and stood for an instant under the great stone pillars of the portico. As I turned, I saw two horses coming at full speed up the avenue; it was Helen and her lover. One of the grooms, who was evidently on the watch, stepped forward to assist my cousin from the saddle just as I had descended the steps for the same purpose; but Walter Carroll was too quick for us both, and reining in his horse with a violence that almost threw the animal backwards, he sprang to the ground and caught Helen's bridle in his hand just as the groom was preparing to lift her down. My aunt was highly accomplished, very dignified and ladylike in manner, and fond of dress. She had a good complexion, a large but white and well shaped hand, a profusion of dark brown hair, with expressive gray eyes, and white, well-kept teeth. I think she was very proud of those pearly teeth, and with good reason. She generally wore plain, grave colors; but in the material was her peculiar taste. Never since have I seen a lady who wore such magnificent gowns; there was a fulness, a stiffness-I don't know how to describe it--but a rustle in those voluminous skirts I shall never forget. Then her laces were always so rich--the most costly products of the art-and worn with those plain, handsome dresses, nothing could have been in better taste. My aunt always wore over her weddingring a beautiful diamond guard, the value of which was great. Helen had her father's handsome eyes, her mother's fine complexion and heavy brown hair, and in her disposition the best qualities of each. I did not blame Walter Carroll for loving her, nor wonder at it, thrown in her society as he had been; but I hated him, or thought I did when I saw her eyes fall and the conscious blush mantle cheek and brow beneath his loving glance. He was very kind to me, this happy lover, this favored owner of parks, broad acres and houses-kind to me, who had but a few hundreds in the world, and of the whole group he alone showed utter unconsciousness of the disparity in our fortunes. Perhaps he felt so well contented with his lot that there was no room for any bad passions to have sway; perhaps he had guessed my real heart and tried to soften the pain. I knew not his reason for treating me thus, but I met his advances in silent pride. I often wondered at the licence my aunt allowed Helen; she, who sat as erect and unbending as if all possible sin was "Stand aside!" I heard him say; "I will assist Miss Helen concealed under the upholstering of lounging chairs, would yet to dismount." out to me, permit her daughter to take all manner of easy attitudes, to sit But the man gave him one dark look and tried to push be- on ottomans or on the floor, or to recline at her ease in the old tween him and the horse, which now began to prance uneasily. window-seats or in the corners of the old-fashioned damask Helen was frightened, and I saw she grew very pale as she couches. It had never occurred to me to dislike this habit of drew away from the grasp the man had laid on her habit. She Helen's until this visit; but I remarked it now, and also how made an effort to take the rein from Walter's hand, and called differently they dressed. If Helen had worn one of those stiff "Come and take me off, Paul !" But Walter Car-silks instead of the flowing muslins in which she was always roll's hot young blood was roused, and he would have died ere attired, I should have felt better pleased; but as it was, her he would have yielded. With a powerful grasp he tried to neck and arms were unhidden, and the pretty ribbons she wore force away the man, who, with dogged resolution still mainwere always a source of trouble. tained his place and his hold of Helen's dress, and who, in his insolent rage, gave Carroll a violent push. Quicker than thought Walter struck him with his whip across his face, and with a yell of rage and pain the fellow let go his hold and rushed away towards the stables. The whole affair did not occupy a minute. Other servants came out, and with their assistance we managed to quiet the startled horse and got Helen in safety to the ground. She was still very pale and trembling violently; and Carroll, taking her in his arms, bore her carefully into the house, while I followed with her hat, which had fallen unnoticed-her pretty, graceful "My love, I suppose this belongs to you," her father would say, coming in with a bow like a butterfly dangling from his fingers; "I found it in the conservatory." And the spoiled girl would blush and laugh and replace the truant sleeve-knot with a merry glance at Walter. Half a dozen times a day my aunt would exclaim, "Helen, child, your sash is unfastened?" or, "Your sash is on the floor!" But it was all one to Helen-only one day we were all informed that she had lost a favorite knot she fastened the bosom of her dress with. Every one was questioned about it, and quite a little confusion raised. "I know I had it on last night in the library," said Helen;, never more look on him in this world. Failing in this, he and somebody must have seen it." It is only a knot of ribbon, Helen," said Walter, raising his eyes from his book; "pray don't make any disturbance about it." "It is not the ribbon itself," said Helen, an angry flush mounting into her fair cheek; "but my dear friend Caroline Morley gave it to me and I loved it for her sake." Walter looked sorry for his words and invited her to take a walk with him. That evening I noticed that Helen's white dress was fastened with a small locket, holding dark hair suspiciously like Walter's; it also had his miniature on the reverse-but that I did not know until afterwards. She was so much of a child, this beautiful cousin Helen, only just eighteen, that I found it hard to realise that she was soon to be a wife, even when the great trunks came down from London, containing the trousseau. But the days flew by and the eve of the wedding had come. In twenty-four hours I should no more see her, and for the last time I asked her to walk with me alone. I tried to question her, but she was shy of speaking of her feelings-I could not help seeing how happy she was, how hopeful, and how truly she loved her intended. Of the future she had given no thought; she did not even know where they should reside. "Walter owned Furze-hill and the Limes. She did not know which she would like best, but she rather thought she would prefer to travel on the Continent for a time. But then Walter would know what was best-Walter was so wise." Walter came out silently and stood at "You are not sorry, love-not afraid to venture?" I heard him whisper. turned round and clasped my knees. "Save him, doctor-oh, save him!" he exclaimed. cannot be dead-my dear, dear master!" "He He let me go, and fell prostrate on the floor, sobbing and moaning aloud. I heard the rustle of silk, and my aunt and her maid, bearing lights, now made their appearance. The men had laid poor Walter on the bed; and as my aunt bent down to look on his pale face, for the first time in my life I saw tears on her cheek. "My poor Helen!" she sobbed. My uncle moved to the door, I thought, to inform his daughter, but as he touched the handle it was violently flung open and Helen rushed in, pale, terrified, and only half-dressed, her dressinggown flung over her nightclothes. Her maid had informed her of Walter's death, and with a loud scream she threw herself down beside the bed, and holding his cold hand to her heart, gave way to the most violent anguish. It was a distressing scene, and I felt a relief when the surgeon who had been summoned made his appearance, and the ladies were sent away. The most careful examination failed to give any clue to the cause of the young man's death; but it was the general opinion I was not by any means satisfied of this myself, but my opinion dare not be given in opposition to their regular medical attendant; consequently, I kept it to myself and brooded over it until I became satisfied in my own mind that Walter Carroll came to his death by unfair that heart disease had occasioned it. means. We came back and stood under the stone columns of the por-hearted William, whose grief was more poignant than even Whom to blame I knew not-certainly not poor brokentico, and she took a last look of the fair view before us, and the tears rose to her eyes. Helen's, possibly because more hopeless. His master was his only friend, and they were bound together by the strongest ties her side while I drew back. of gratitude and kindness-had travelled together in foreign lands, passed through many a thrilling adventure, shared many neither food nor rest, and after the funeral, fell into a low, lina dangerous bivouac. Poor fellow! for many days he took gering fever which almost brought him to the grave. Helen's wish that he should remain in their home, and Helen's wish was law, not only with her father, but with the faithful fellow, who loved and respected his late master's betrothed only next to himself. No, no-never afraid with you!" was the impassioned answer. And I went away with a heavy heartache. What had he done that he should be so happy? or what had I done that I was doomed to so much wretchedness? He, born to wealth and honors, beloved by all whose love I coveted, with no anxieties about the future and no care for the present -how envi ble seemed his lot! I could have spurned him when he held out his hand to say "Good-night," so fearfully raged the demon within me. The weather was warm. I threw open my window and watched the moonlit shadows in the park and the silver ripples on the lake, for my feverish agitation precluded all idea of repose. From a window opposite mine, I saw Walter walking his room with folded arms, while his valet was busy at a table with some bottles. In a few seconds the young man came to the window and threw himself on a seat. He too seemed restless; but it was the restlessness of happiness, not despair. The careful valet came behind and spread a warm dressing-gown over his master's shoulders, then handed him a large crystal goblet of cool drink, and stood by to see him take it. I heard Walter speak-doubtless some jest about the care he took of him, for there was a strong attachment between them, and William would have laid down his life for his master-but I had seen enough, and left the room to fling myself on the bed, there to muse undisturbed on my lonely future. I know not how long I lay, but it was soon after the great clock struck midnight that I heard steps outside my door, and my uncle came in, bearing a light in his hand, which showed me his countenance ghastly pale. I sprang up at his entrance, and he seemed surprised to find me awake and dressed; but there was no time for words. He was hoarse with agitation. "Come to Walter's room," he said. "Bring a lancet with He is dead or dying!" you. I lost not a moment in following him; and in five minutes we stood in the chamber where, surrounded by half a dozen servants, poor Carroll still sat by the window. I searched for pulse or heart-throb, but it was useless. He was dead, stone dead, sitting in his chair where he had watched the moonlight, his gay dressing-gown still about his shoulders, one stiffened hand still grasping one of the scarlet tassels. His valet knelt beside him, chafing his hands, arms, temples, even in his passionate grief trying to open the eyes which should It was I was angry with myself for indulging a suspicion of any one; yet, time and again, as the recollection of Walter's sudden de cease came to me, there also came with it the remembrance of two dark flashing eyes looking on his dead form with anything save sorrow in their firm, triumphant expression, and the owner of those eyes was Robert the groom, whom Walter had struck on the evening of my arrival. He was of gipsy blood-a tall, handsome, swarthy fellow, feared by the other servants, on whom he never failed to revenge an injury or an insult, and rather favored by my uncle from his bravery in the defence of the house against burglars when it had been attempted, during my uncle's absence from home some years before. I questioned the old steward pretty closely about him, and one day, when we were speaking on the subject, Robert himself came near. Whether he suspected that the conversation was about him I cannot tell, but that evening he suddenly left my uncle's service. I had prolonged my stay as much as I dared, and I now left, having the satisfaction of knowing that my cousin was daily becoming more reconciled to the heavy sorrow which had so sadly clouded her young happy life. Of my own feelings at this time, regarding young Carroll's death, I dare not speak. That I was sorry for him, thus cut down in the bloom of his youth and strength, on the eve of such happiness as his mar1iage had promised, you must not doubt; but at times there would come a wild hope that my beautiful cousin might yet learn to love me-that by some unforeseen circumstance I might yet be in a position to claim her love. Her sorrow had supplied the only charm wanting in her disposition-a stillness, without which I could not have thought her perfect; the childish gaiety and thoughtlessness, SO ILUOŠA to poor Walter's taste, had frequently jarred on my wearied and overtaxed feelings. I paid her a professional visit each day in her own room, where, for a week after the funeral, she still kept all her wedding preparations-the snowy satin dress, the flowing veil. orange wreath, and the bouquet of white rosebuds, orange blossoms and jessamine he had sent her a few days before his death. Like her hopes, it was now withered and dead. The house was very lonely now. Since the fearful event there had been no company, no music, no riding in the park; uncle spending the larger part of his time with his books; aunt becoming more devoted to her embroidery than ever; while my poor little cousin passed a very aimless existence in wandering from room to room in search of employment, which never was found, taking solitary walks on the terrace, and making feeble attempts to continue the studies Walter had advised and assisted her to pursue. I returned to my lonely lodging in Gower street, now looking lonelier than ever. A fortnight's residence in my uncle's lofty rooms did not add in any way to the size of my own. Of my half-dozen patients, I found some better, some worse. If I had had the conscience to keep people sick, I might have made more out of my profession. I gave them all my attention now, to make up for past neglect, and also to banish the remembrance of the past. The summer and autumn passed with little variety. I received a letter from Helen, written evidently in very low spirits; then came an interval of silence, and then, at Christmas, a request from my uncle to come down and see them. He wished my advice about Helen, who was far from well, yet refused to have a physician. Inside came a little note from the fair patient herself, in which the mystery of that illness was very easily explained. Her parents wished her to accept the offer of the present owner of Farze-hill, a boisterous, red-faced young squire, with a bad temper and a loud voice-the opposite, in every respect, of her dead Walter. She grieved to disappoint them, yet could not consent to sacrifice herself to this bold foxhunter, whose feats of horsemanship gave her some comfort in the idea that he was likely any day to break his neck. I could have laughed over Helen's comic letter, had there not been such bitterness under the seeming mirth. I longed to see the dear girl, yet never, in the course of my rising practice, had it been so difficult for me to leave town. I was deliberating on this, when I suddenly recollected my other letter, as suddenly opened it, and received another surprise-surpassing the first immeasurably. It was from my old uncle, Paul Hastings, announcing his return from India in a very different condition from what report had led me to believe. "They tell me you are a doctor"-thus he wrote-" and I want you to come to me directly, for this cursed climate is killing me. Don't look for any fee, for I have nothing to spend on medicine; if I can find bread, and a house to cover me, it is as much as I bargain for. I met with an uncivil reception from my relations on the other side of the house; perhaps if I had brought home a million, in addition to my diseased liver, they would not have sent me packing so unceremoniously. I hear you are poor; well, misery likes company-come along!" I must confess that with this letter departed my last hope; for ever in the far-off distance had been a vision of the old man's return with lots of money, which he was to leave me, and I, of course, was to marry Helen. Nevertheless, I determined to be kind to him; for, in days gone by, he had been a good friend to my parents, and I would at least be grateful I obeyed his summons instantly, and found him in a quiet but respectable street, in a comfortable lodging, and surrounded by a number of eastern luxuries. First of these was his native servant, an excellent fellow in his way, as he bore all his master's reproaches, and even blows, with perfect good humornever for a moment deviating from his humble respect. I found uncle Hastings a most eccentric individual, with an unpleasant temper; an everlasting grumbler, fond of taking comfort, yet professing to despise it, bilious, passionate, and exceedingly stingy in small matters. His room was a picture in itself, with its screens, curtains, couches and mats. When he himself was there, with his little yellow, shrivelled face in frightful contrast to his magnificent crimson shawls, the effect was complete. Put his immense pipe in his hand, yellow slippers on his feet, his favorite white cockatoo beside him, and his native in the background, and I would challenge Europe to produce such another scene. I found him suffering from chills, brought on by an unusually cold February; he looked pinched, forlorn and miserable, even surrounded as he was by so much of Oriental magnificence. I need not tell you how our acquaintance progressed, or how I at last came to like this odd specimen of humanity, from whom all others appeared to shrink in terror. He was gratified at the attention I showed him, said he looked anxiously for the hour of my daily call, explained at length the remarkable wisdom of his two pet monkeys, expatiated on the gentleness of a fierce-looking macaw that appeared to entertain a jealous hatred of me, showed me the contents of a cabinet of rare curiosities collected in foreign travel, and presented me with a small shell as a remembrance. In addition to this enormous gift, he afterwards gave me a lancet with an inlaid handle-a curious little piece of work to look at, but of no earthly use, owing to the inferiority of the metal. Certainly, my new relation could not be accused of buying my friendship with costly presents. But with all his odd ways, I liked my old uncle, and he and I jogged along surprisingly well. He had seen much of Eastern life, and his stories carried me back to my boyish days and the Arabian Nights; in his society, I regained much of the cheerfulness of those days when care and poverty had been unknown enemies. But another summons came from the Lansdownes, and this time I had to leave without delay. I found Helen suffering from a low, nervous fever, very weak and excitable, and totally unfit for the society of her foxhunting lover, who nevertheless spent most of his time in her presence. On our first meeting, she threw herself into my arms with a violent burst of weeping, and in a whisper implored me to save her. I had no need to inquire "from what," having passed the young squire in the hall, where he was in violent altercation with one of his grooms, and evidently the worse for my uncle's good wine. and I strictly forbade all visitors; even young Nimrod was My first prescription for Helen was perfect rest and quiet, compelled to yield to my authority-a kindness for which my sweet cousin whispered warm gratitude. She told me of a remarkable vision she had had on New Year's night. She woke suddenly, and thought she saw Robert bending over her pillow his swarthy face only a few inches from her own; but before she recovered from her surprise sufficiently to call for help, the vision had disappeared-and ber parents treated the whole affair as the working of a disordered brain. I held a different opinion. I felt certain that Robert had dared to love his master's daughter, and that he had stolen into the house to look on her once more. My cousin's account of the appearance was too clear and positive to be doubted for an instant; and I saw she was glad to be able to convince me. Her parents doubts had almost made her believe that she was insane. And now it came about that Helen and I were continually thrown into each other's society, my aunt was called away to the deathbed of a dear friend, and day by day I found it harder to tear myself away. At last, driven to desperation, I risked all and acquainted my uncle with my feelings, imploring him to keep my secret, if he did not grant my request. Ours was a short but painful interview, and I left him with the bitter consciousness that, in the step I had taken, not only were my last hopes crushed, but all future companionship with my beautiful cousin at an end. I went back to London moody and savage. To my astonishment I found my old Indian relative greatly improved in manners and temper; in fact, he was becoming quite agreeable. I quite agreed with the remark of his colored servant that "Massa Hastings not so bad as he seem." My uncle volunteered a visit to my apartments on the second day after my arrival, and set about discovering the cause of my trouble with the patience and perseverance of an inquisitor of the olden time. It was no use to prevaricate—he would have the truth; so I made a clean breast of it, and told him all-my love and my poverty and my wretched prospects. "And so you were fool enough to ask Lansdowne, were you?" said he. "Well, you deserved just what you got for being so hasty." This was queer comfort, and I made no answer; the old man also relapsed into silence for a time. At last he asked if I thought it would be a possible thing to purchase Furze-hill. "Lansdowne has set his heart on joining the two estates," said he ; "and unless you can purchase it, you need not hope | remembrance of ber former fearlessness was ever before her, and for favor in that quarter." I gave back some sulky answer, for in the then state of my finances one of the mountains of the moon were as accessible a purchase as Furz -hill-poor Walter's pride, the home where Helen had anticipated passing happy years, but which she now thought of with horror in connection with its present owner, who inherited it on the death of his cousin. "Humph! you need not be so sulky!" said my uncle. "Perhaps it would not be such a wonderful thing to do, after all. I will go to the Temple and see my lawyer, and if, as I think, that young scapegrace has got into trouble, we'll have the place yet-the estate, not the woman, mind! I don't like women of any kind: my landlady sent me up a burnt steak for breakfast this morning. I wish the deuce had all the women." With this polite and pious wish, my extraordinary relative walked out of the room, leaving me the image of astonishment. What could the man mean, with his lawyer and estates? Was he crazy, or only a monomaniac? I never was so puzzled in my life. But my astonishment was increased when in five days, during which I saw nothing of my old friend, I received a letter from Helen's father, wherein he very politely informed me that having thought over my proposal, and sounded his daughter's inclination on the subject, he had come to the conclusion that it would be for her future happiness to recall his refusal, and he therefore invited me to come and see them at my earliest convenience, adding that Helen's health had declined again since my departure. Of course I obeyed, but not before I saw my comical old uncle, to whom I was anxious to impart the good news. "We could not get Furze-hill," was his first remark. "Well, I never expected you would," I replied, laughing, for the idea appeared so preposterous. "You young scamp, what do you mean?" he roared out in a rage. "Do you dare to hint that I could not buy up any of your little English estates if I had a mind? I, who have more pounds than any miserable doctor in the whole country has pennies? What do you mean, I say?" "Just this that I have got Helen without Furze-hill," I replied, and showed him my letter. The old man's tone changed. "Oh, the vanity of boys!" said he. "No doubt you think this is all owing to your own merits, you young jackanapes, when but for your old uncle's interference, you might have starved for ever over your empty gallipots, and cut your throat at last with your own rusty lancet. You rascal, don't you know that I have made you my heir, that I have given you enough to buy up old Lansdowne and half a dozen like himdon't you know that he worships the golden calf, and now you are gilded he worships you? Oh, you vain puppy! I have half a mind to take it all back again, just to punish you for your self-conceit." But he did not take it all back. On the contrary, he added to the gift he had already made, and as Furze-hill was not for sale, purchased an estate only a few miles from Helen's home, and which he said was to be her dower. It was interesting enough to note the change in the manner of my reception at my uncle's now and heretofore. Once, the meanest servant in the household knew that the visitor was "only master's nephew, a poor doctor up in Lunnon," and treated him to proportionate civility; but now it was in a different character that the nephew made his appearance, and the most exacting among men must have been satisfied with the homage. Of course I understood the full value of this change, and felt but little gratitude until poor Walter's valet begged to be taken into my service, saying he should like to live with me, "For you was good when you was poor Master Hastings, and I don't believe the money will alter you much." It was a decided improvement on the idea that my sudden acquisition of fortune had removed all my former faults. Of my reception by my sweet cousin, and the manner in which my suit prospered, I must be forgiven for speaking but little. Such matters are not for other eyes. Suffice it that my fondest hopes were realised, my brightest anticipations surpassed, and if my gentle young betrothed was shy of displaying her regard, it was, as she told me with deep blushes, because she did not want to learn to love me too much." Poor child! the the knowledge of how suddenly the cup of joy might be snatched from her lips, caused a slight feeling of uncertainty and anxiety only known to those who have passed through a similar trial. What right had I to expect a happier fate than had befallen poor Walter, of whom Helen and I so often thought during the days of our sweet companionship? Yet Providence granted me life and happiness, and permitted me to see the day when I called Helen by the dear name of wife. My old uncle promised that all should be ready in our new home by the time that we returned from our wedding tour, which we made to the sunny south and the land of song, and, true to his word, the house was repaired and furnished, and supplied with housekeeper and domestics, awaiting our arrival. As I was not allowed to see my future residence before this time, you may imagine that I felt considerable interest in walking over my new possessions, and complimenting my eccentric relative on his excellent taste. "But what is that, uncle?" I exclaimed, as we came in sight of a remarkable structure, something like an exaggerated copy of the houses seen in the willow pattern. "What on earth have you got there-a Hindoo temple, a house for the car of Juggernaut, or is it intended for a Chinese pagoda ?" The old man frowned grimly, while Helen laughed aloud. "It's my bungalow, you puppy-my house where I intend to reside," said the old gentleman. "Quite convenient to your own, too, so that when you and your wife have a quarrel, whichever feels too sulky to stay at home, can come down here and see me." "Much obliged for the kind intention, uncle," said I; "it's so thoughtful of you to provide for such an emergency; but I am inclined to think that my wife and I shall always visit you together." And we always have. And now I must tell you of an adventure I had, which cleared up what had always been a mystery to my thinking. It was the second year of our marriage, the summer time, and a very warm season, when we heard that several robberies had been committed in our neighborhood. I had not given the subject much thought, and was perhaps somewhat too careless about the security of our house. A careless master will make careless servants, and mine felt as secure as I did. On the night of the 1st of August-many persons must well remember the storm of August, 1846, which broke over the metropolis-our household suffered extremely with the heat, so much so, that I have rarely felt a more oppressive atmosphere. Helen had gone to bed early in the evening sick with a headache, and I sat at the bedside and fanned her until she feli asleep. She had suffered very severely from the long-continued heat, and a slight fever had set in, flushing her cheek, and deepening the color of her lips. I thought as I sat and watched her, that never had she looked so beautiful as at that hour. As the night advanced and the air grew cooler, I too felt inclined to rest, but through the lax influence of the drowsy weather, sat sleeping in my chair. I know not how long I rested-it must have been several hours--when I was awakened by a violent cream from Helen, and the shutting of our chamber door. Springing to my feet, I saw her sitting up in bed, pointing with one hand to the door, while her eyes seemed starting from her head with terror. To catch her in my arms was my first impulse, but her screams continued until she fell back on her pillow in convulsions. As the servants gathered in our room, every effort was made to relieve her, and not till morning did we discover that the window of the library had been open all night. Helen continued very ill for three days, and only at the end of that time did I learn that she had again seen the dark face of Robert, the groom, leaving over her pillow, and she positively declared that he was the person who shut the door. I need scarcely say that I felt alarmed at these repeated visits, in conjunction with the suspicions I entertained of that individual, and I resolved that for the future the villain should find no entrance into my dwelling. I would not allow Helen to talk on the subject, as it agitated her too severely, but quietly made my own plans of fortification. Very useless plans they proved to be, so far as Robert was concerned, for in less than a week he was arrested for a robbery committed at Furze-hill, having been wounded by the owner in the attempt. In a few hours I received a line from the chaplain of the prison, requesting me, as the nearest magistrate, to come at once and see the prisoner, who was sinking fast and desired to make some revelations. You may imagine I lost no time in making my way to the county jail, where the poor wretch was confined, and where I found, sure enough, that it was the man I sought, though death was fast changing his dark complexion to a livid gray. He was very insolent to the chaplain, and ordered him to leave the cell, but kept fast hold of me. And then came the confession (as I expecte') of the death of Walter Carroll by poison, in revenge for the blow he had given him. "I hated him," said he, "but I would not have killed him --for she loved him-only for that blow. But a gipsy never forgets a blow, and none can detect the poison gipsies know how to distil." "But why have you persisted in annoying my wife, who never did you any injury?" I asked. "Do you know that the fright you gave her a week ago has almost killed her?" His face changed, and an inexpressible softness came into his dark eyes. “I did not mean to frighten her," said he, “I am sorry; but I wanted to look at her sweet face once more, the face which has made me commit all this sin. You think you love her, and Walter Carroll thought he loved her; but you neither of you know what it is to love as I have ever since I was a boy, when she pleaded with her father not to let them punish me for robbing the hen-houses. She was very little then, and she did not know me years after, when I came here as a groom; but she was always kind and gentle, and I would have risked my life at her bidding every day. When I stole in to look at her in her father's house, I thought it was for the last time, but the temptation of your open window induced me to risk it again. I am willing to die now I have seen her." He did die that night, poor fellow! but I never told Helen what he had confessed, as I knew it would have caused her deep distress. Walter was in his grave, and it would have done the world no good to have been told at that late hour that he came to his death unfairly. THE LANGUAGE OF THE EYE. that words were made iink they lend their aid I's candor every heart believes- The lips with gentle accents may The tongue with flattering words may play Both lips and tongue may prove untrue, But falsehood fi ids no channel through This faithful orb, then, be my choice- It speaks with more emphatic voice Oh, yes, its silent mentor sends Its influence far and righ; THE QUEENS OF NAPLES. BY ANTONIO NICOLO. SEARCH the history of the world; fix your eyes upon the pages concerning Italy, dwelling especially upon the stories of the lives of the Queens of Naples; and the result of such a perusal will be, that the name of the Queen of Naples has been fatal to almost all those who have ever borne it; and, commencing with Constance, we will endeavor to prove the truth of what we have just stated. The She was the only legitimate descendant of the royal Norman line, and the wife of the Emperor Henry VI., who, after the death of William II., of Sicily, had a legitimate pretension to that crown, and attempted to obtain it by force of arms. nobles of the Two Sicilies, however, disdaining the German yoke, had elected for their king Tancred, the natural son of Roger II., joining him with all their hearts and yielding him all the assistance in their power. In 1190 a war was engaged in between Henry and Tancred; but the latter was beaten, and compelled to a precipitate retreat from the Neapolitan dominions. Constance, however, fell into the hands of his enemies; when she was sent in chains from Salerno to Sicily, to Tancred, who generously restored her, without ransom or condition, to her husband. A VENETIAN LOVE STORY.-A sad story has plunged Venice into more than its wonted sorrow. A young Hungarian noble in an Austrian regiment had fallen violently in love with a beautiful Venetian girl. They met frequently in society. She returned his passion, told him that she loved him, that she would never marry another, but that she could never marry him, an officer in an Austrian regiment, while three of her brothers were fighting for Italy. Vainly did the Hungarian urge his suit; earnestly did he entreat a meeting. At last the fair Venetian wrote to him: "Have you sufficient courage to kill me? If you consent I will meet you to-night. But I will The unhappy Queen Sibilla was the wife of Tancred, the conmeet you on this condition only, that you may slay me, but queror of Charles VI. of Germany. In 1194 Tancred died, leavrespect me. Should I receive no reply, I shall come, and knowing as a successor to his crown a helpless boy, who was unable that you have the courage which I expect from you." The girl went forth that evening with a bouquet of snow-white blossoms in her girdle. On the morrow, on the banks of the lagune, the officer's sword and scabbard were found, raised in the form of a cross, and in the stream below were found the bodies of the two lovers, closely locked in each other's arms. ASSISTING THE POOR. -I never allow a member of my family to make a single garment for a poor person, except in an extraordinary case. I let them buy as much flannel and calico as they choose; but they must teach some young person to cut out and make the article required. The girls often say it would be much easier to do the work themselves than tack it and shape it for a stupid body. I grant you that it would; but then what real good would be done by that? The shirt will be worn out by this time next year, and if my girls should not be here, who is to make another? According to my system more real and lasting good is done by teaching six girls to make six shirts for six fathers, and to mend the old one neatly, than if my girls gave every man in the parish half a dozen shirts of their own making.-Great Matches. to defend it. Charles, who in 1199, had been defeated, again invaded the kingdom of the Two Sicilies, and this time took possession of it. The wretched family of Tancred, surrendering themselves upon promise of favorable treatment, were sent into Germany by the savage conqueror, who detained them in long captivity, and deprived the youthful king of his eyes. Ellen was the wife of King Manfred. In 1265 a battle was engaged in on the plain of Grandalla, near Benevento, between her husband and Charles of Anjou. Manfred, betrayed by his army and subjects, was killed, and his corpse mangled and torn in pieces. The queen was besieged in Lucera, made a prisoner, and shut up in the Castle of Dell Uovo, where she happily died without having heard of Comzidin, her son, being carried to the scaffold, and the rest of the family expiring amid the most excruciating sufferings. Queen Lancia was the widow of Robert, King of Naples, the son of Charles II. and the chief of the Guelph party. Having no offspring, Robert bequeathed his crown to Joanna, his niece; and when he died the new queen oppressed the widow in a thousand ways, who was obliged to shut herself up in the Convent of Santa Croce, and died there. |