her society. His name was Lawler-Lans Lawler. He had a fine person and an agreeable countenance. He frequently sought my company, and gradually won upon my affections. At length he made a proposal of marriage, which I was not unwilling to accept, as I was by this time considerably advanced in years. I made known the circumstance to my aunt, who commenced an inquiry into his character; finally, she ascertained that he was a footman, in the service of one Francis Barillon, a wealthy gentleman who had just returned from the Indies, and lived between London and Greenwich. This was unwelcome intelligence, particularly as my aunt assured me, if I did not discard all idea of such an unequal match, that I should no longer receive her protection. An elopement was the consequence, and in less than a week I was established with my husband in a small house near that of his master.

"Two months passed with nothing to mar our happiness. At the end of this time, a circumstance occurred which gave me much uneasiness, and upon which I have often reflected. I allude to the singular conduct of my husband. I do not positively know that he ever committed any crime; (I hope I may be forgiven for my suspicions!) but I once thought-" here she spoke almost in whis

VOL. I.-P

per-" that he had been guilty of murder. I may be wrong; but I have my reasons. While he was engaged in the service of this Mr. Barillon, he came home one Sunday a little after dusk, and complaining of fatigue, threw himself upon the bed, where he soon fell asleep. In the course of an hour, two men, wrapped in cloaks, (it was a chill, December night) knocked at the door, and asked to see him. They refused to come in, but waited in the street until he joined them, when they all went away together.

"It was long after midnight when Lans returned. I saw that something dreadful had happened, although he would not confess it; his looks were wild and haggard, and when he fell asleep, there was a convulsive twitching in his limbs, which greatly alarmed me-for I had heard that the wicked always slumber thus-and I watched by his side until the sun was far above the hills. When he awoke he was more calm; but I did not ask him any questions. Who the strangers were, I do not exactly know; I only had a glimpse of them as they stood at the door; but I could almost have sworn (and there are many things to confirm the belief) that they were no other than Richard Florence and this Captain Despard. You start

but you must learn not to be surprised at anything.

"A fortnight after this time my husband set sail for America: shortly after his arrival, he sent out for me to join him. Again united, we took up our residence in Philadelphia, where we had lived peaceably for nearly a score of years, when Lans suddenly disappeared, leaving me without the means of support. I knew not where he had gone, nor why he had acted so basely. A week had scarcely elapsed, however, when I received a somewhat mysterious visit from Richard Florence. He had been informed, he said, of my husband's desertion, which he seemed very much to regret; and as I was left destitute, proposed that I should make this cottage my home, and assist occasionally in discharging the duties of his family. I gladly accepted the offer, and have remained here ever since, mainly supported by him; but lately he has nearly cut off my supplies; at least, he appears very indifferent about them: this is one reason why I am more free to make known my suspicions. As to Lans Lawler, I know nothing of him; it may be, that he is dead; and I pray God will forgive my doubts, that Richard Florence knows more of the business than he pretends."

"Do you mean to say that he has murdered your husband?" I inquired.

"That is a serious question," said she; "but I have a right to think! I will tell you more hereafter, if Florence does not mend his ways."

"But you forget that he is the father of Emily?" said I.

"There, also, I have my doubts," she answered in a half-articulate voice, occasioned by her frequent potations; "but I have never hinted as much to her. This is a world of mystery-a world of mystery.

"You must visit me frequently," she continued, observing that I was about to take my final departure. "Come to-morrow afternoon-Emily will be here. Ah, she is a sweet creature-a sweet creature! What two excellent friends I shall have !"

CHAPTER XVII.

Who can paint the bitter thoughts that o'er her spirit stole!

She was full of amiable grace,

W. G. CLARK.

And manly terror mixed therewith all;
That as the one stir'd up affections base,

So th' other did men's rash desires appall,

And hold them backe, that would in error fall:

As he that hath espied a vermill rose,

To which sharp thornes and breeres the way forstall,

Dare not for dread his hardy hand expose,

But wishing it farr off his ydle wish doth lose.

Fairy Queen.

THE moment was near at hand when I was to make the acquaintance of Miss Florence. Meg Lawler's cottage was already in view; a few paces more, and I stood at its threshold. The old woman received me with a thousand demonstrations of delight. Emily, as I had expected, was already there; she came forward at my entrance, and with Meg's introduction, we were no longer strangers. Happy, thrice happy moment!