Who could this be? and what could he be doing there? The face of the stranger was undistinguishable; but there was something in the air and gait that put him in mind of Baldoni. Now although Agostino was after a manner in love with Lucia—that is, in love with her as great lords are in love with maids of low degree-he was far from admiring Baldoni, whom he thought a gloomy, forbidding man, and whose designs on himself he had penetrated; and it was therefore less difficult for him to conceive some evil purpose on the part of the ex-steward, than to imagine what that purpose could be. In vain he puzzled his brain to discover it; and morning finding him quite unsatisfied, he resolved that the matter should not rest there; and as, in order to facilitate his further investigations, it was necessary to be silent with respect to what had occurred, after examining the spot where the man had emerged, and finding nothing to explain his appearance, he climbed up to one of the windows, opened it, and letting himself carefully down on the outside, made his way back to the castle long before his father and mother were out of their beds. and alarmed, for the young man was without | ently he saw the same individual enter, with arms, he remained silently watching the a lantern in one hand and a basket in the stranger, who first stooped down, then blew other. He walked straight up to the altar, out the lantern, and finally, with a stealthy near to where Agostino crouched, concealed step, crossed to the door of the chapel and by a pillar; and then placing his lantern and went out, locking the door after him. basket on the steps, he stooped down under the table, and took something which Agostino concluded was a key, since he immediately afterwards opened a door in the pillar adjoining that behind which the young man was concealed, and entering the aperture, shut it after him, and disappeared. În about half an hour he returned, with the basket still on his arm, locked the door, replaced the key, blew out his lantern, and left the chapel as before. Agostino not only now felt himself secure of penetrating the mystery, but he was also satisfied that the man was no other than Baldoni; and for the first time a recollection of the family tradition regarding the secret chamber, and the treasures it was supposed to contain, recurred to his mind. Baldoni had no doubt discovered it, and was helping himself to its valuable contents. It was a grand thing at eighteen to have found out this; and it would be still grander to complete the enterprise himself; and this he resolved to do. So he waited till the morning dawned, and then set about searching for the key, and the door to be opened with it; but neither could he find, nor even the smallest trace of them. What was to be done? Go to Baldoni, tell him what he had seen, and insist on a confession? But how force him to it? He was a dark, silent, resolute man, and might prefer dying, and taking the secret with him to the grave. On the whole, Agostino thought a better plan would be to wait till the next Saturday, then place himself in ambush, and just at the moment that Baldoni had opened the door in the pillar, and was entering the aperture, to place a pistol at his head, and stop him; and to this scheme he adhered. On the following night, unseen by anybody, the young count repaired, well armed, to the chapel, to which, as the family had a private key, he had no difficulty in obtaining access. There, in concealment, he remained till dawn, without seeing anything of the mysterious stranger. For three successive nights he met with no better success, by which time he not only began to be extremely tired of his stone pillow, but he also began actually to doubt whether he had seen what he imagined he had, or whether the whole had not been a vivid dream. For several ensuing nights, therefore, he slept quietly in his bed; but as soon as he was thoroughly refreshed, his spirit of adventure returned, and his curiosity urged him to make one more attempt. It had been on a Saturday night that he had seen the stranger; a fortnight had now elapsed, and it was Saturday again; and with a strong presentiment of success, he started once more for the chapel, and having locked himself in, took up his position in an obscure corner near the high altar; and, sure enough, shortly after the clock struck twelve he heard a key turning in the chapel door, and pres Accordingly, when the night came, he was at his post betimes. At the accustomed hour the chapel door opened, and, as usual, Baldoni advanced to the altar, stooped down, and then, turning to the pillar, stretched out his arm to insert the key in the lock. It had been the intention of Agostino not to stir till the door was open; but in his eagerness not to lose the opportunity, he moved too soon, and the instant he emerged from behind the piller that concealed him, Baldoni, without pausing to see who the intruder was, drew a pistol from his bosom and fired; whilst at the same moment the young count, perceiving the action, levelled the one he held in his hand, and drew the trigger. The two reports were simultaneous, and both the combatants fell. On the following morning, when the sacristan entered the chapel, he found Baldoni and the young count both apparently dead on the floor; beside them lay their weapons, an empty basket, and an extinguished lantern. News was immediately sent to the marquis, who soon arrived with a physician. What could be the meaning of so extraordinary an incident nobody could guess. Why they should have been in the chapel at all, and still more why they should have shot each other, was altogether inexplicable. Lucia declared that she had no idea that her father was anywhere but in his bed; and that, as for the young count, he had not been at their house for a fortnight or more. In spite of this, the conclusion to which everybody inclined was, that Baldoni had quarrelled with the count in consequence of his attentions to his daughter, and that, for some incomprehensible reason, they had met there to discuss the question. In the mean time, whilst everybody was guessing and wondering, the physician declared that Baldoni was dead, but that Agostino, though wounded, was not dangerously hurt, and was suffering chiefly from loss of blood; and due remedies being applied, he was erelong restored to consciousness; but as he was exceedingly weak, talking was forbidden, and all inquiries as to the meaning of this strange event were deferred till he was stronger. In the mean while there was nobody more perplexed about this affair than Lucia herself. Whatever the world might think, she felt assured that there had been no quarrel betwixt Agostino and her father about her; and a thousand circumstances recurred to her that had at various times induced her to believe that there was some strange mystery connected with that chapel. In the first place, she was well aware that double the quantity of provisions they consumed were weekly provided, and as regularly carried out of the house, to be given to the poor, as her father had told her; but who these poor were she had never been able to ascertain. Then, as for lamp-oil, the quantity that was bought and disappeared was truly astonishing; added to which, she not only was aware of her father's having at different times purchased coarse clothing which he never wore, but since her mother's death he had also desired her to procure complete suits of female attire, and even baby-linen of the same ordinary description, which she had done and delivered to him, but which vanished in the same mysterious manner. Many slight observations of her own had connected these disappearances with the chapel; and she never went into it without casting her eyes around in the hope of discovering some clue to the mystery; and finally, finding none, she concluded that some political offenders or state criminals, whom her father favored, were concealed in the vestry-room, probably with the cognizance of the marquis; and this last opinion was strengthened by her knowledge of the sums of money her father expended, though whence he drew his funds she did not know. There was not only the amount lavished on provisions, oil, and so forth; but she knew that he had lately purchased an estate, although the transaction had been conducted with great secrecy. On one occasion, too, when her father had been ill, and confined to his bed for some days, she remarked that he was suffering great anxiety of mind, and he was even once on the point of disclosing a secret of importance to her. He had gone so far as to swear her to secrecy, and had commenced his instructions, which were to the effect that she should fill a basket with provisions and a jar with oil; but there his communications stopped, and he said he would wait to see how he should be on the following day. On the following day he was better; and his health continuing to amend, she heard no more of the matter, whilst an attempt she once made to renew the conversation was too eminently unsuccessful to admit of her repeating it. Reviewing all these circumstances, Lucia, who was a well-disposed girl, felt extremely uneasy. That these provisions and clothes were for some concealed fugitive she could scarcely doubt. In those days, too, and in that part of the world, such hidings were by no means uncommon. Supposing such to be the case, the supply of their necessities must now fail; she trembled to think what might be the consequences. Yet whom to apply to she did not know. She would have selected Agostino; but in the first place, he was ill; and in the second, she naturally concluded that the quarrel, if such there had been, must have been connected with this secret. Thus perplexed, her first step after her father was interred was to send for the sacristan and question him; if there were any persons above ground in the chapel, he must know it. However, he assured her there were not; but he admitted that he had his own suspicions about the chapel too. He was not altogether ignorant of Baldoni's visits, though the latter had made it worth his while to be silent; and how he had obtained the key with which he entered he could not tell. The sacristan confessed that he believed somebody was concealed in a vault beneath the building, but the entrance to it he had never been able to discover. "They will be starved," exclaimed Lucia, "if we cannot find it!" And terrified at this possibility, she resolved to take the curate of the village into her confidence. He, apprehensive of incurring too much responsibility, lost no time in applying to the marquis's confessor for advice. Now it happened, on the day before this visit of the curate's to the castle, that Agostino, being considerably recovered, and able to speak without inconvenience, had described the circumstances which had led to his being wounded, concluding his narrative with a request that no attempt should be made to penetrate the secret passage till he was well enough to accompany the explorers. The intelligence brought by the curate, however, altered the case; there was not a moment to be lost; Agostino had no great difficulty in indicating the situation of the door, but where was the key? Baldoni had certainly had it in his hand when the ball struck him; and as he had not been able to move from the spot, the chances were, that it might be found near the pillar, and with that hope the two priests and the marquis started for Tempesta. On inquiring for the key, the sacristan said he had picked up a small one of a singular construction on the floor of the chapel a day or two before, and not knowing to whom it belonged, he had left it on the window-sill; and there they found it. The directions they had received from Agostino enabled them, after some seeking, to discern a small round hole in the pillar, into which the key fitted, and immediately a panel slided back, and discovered a flight of steps, which, having provided themselves with lights, they descended, till they reached a door which was locked; they were about to send for instruments to break it open, when, observing a hole like that in the pillar, they bethought themselves of trying the same key; the experiment succeeded; and a second door being opened in a similar manner, they found themselves in a kind of chamber about twenty feet square. It con tained a bed and several articles of domestic use; whilst three individuals, huddled together, with haggard features and sunken eyes, sat crouching on the floor in the dark. These were Pepita, her husband Antonio, and a child born to them in their dismal captivity! The poor prisoners were so reduced from want of food, and their senses so dulled by their long confinement, that at first they could hardly comprehend that relief had reached. them. They had been two days without food or light, and had already quietly resigned themselves to the death which they believed awaited them. They were immediately conducted above ground, where every kindness and attention was shown them. It was remarked that the woman was much less blunted and stupefied than the man, the influence of her maternal affections having operated favorably by supplying her with a constant source of interest. As soon as they were in a state to be interrogated, Pepita, having just communicated what she had seen on the day of the earthquake, proceeded to mention the order she had received to join the marquis at Rome; and how, under the guidance of Baldoni, they had started on their journey, with a vettura provided by him. They travelled at a slow rate along the sea-shore, and had not been more than an hour on the road when a wheel came off, and they were invited to descend, and take shelter in a sort of grotto or hermitage close upon the shore, whilst the driver went to fetch somebody to repair the carriage. "Here we waited some time," continued Pepita, "and as we had started in the evening, night soon came on, and after partaking of some supper, Antonio getting uneasy at the driver's absence, went out to seek him; whilst I, feeling excessively drowsy, stretched myself on the floor to rest. How long I slept I do not know; but when I awoke, I found myself in a place I did not recognize, with Antonio lying on the floor beside me fast asleep. There was a lamp burning on a small table, a bed in one corner, and the basket of provisions and wine with which Baldoni had furnished us for the journey, standing close to me. I tried to wake my husband, but could not; and being still overcome with drowsiness, I turned round and went to sleep again. The next time I awoke it was he that had aroused me. "My husband's memory was very much perplexed too, and it was some time before I recollected how I had gone to sleep in the old hermitage, and before he was able to describe to me what had happened to him. "After we had eaten some cold meat, and drank some wine out of our basket,' said he, I remember going out to look for Baldoni, but I could not find him; and a strange feeling coming over me, as if I were intoxicated, I returned to the grotto, where I saw you lying asleep on the floor. I believe the wine I had drunk had given me a relish for more, for I remember opening the basket, and applying again to the bottle. I must have drunk a great deal, I am afraid, for after this, I cannot clearly recall what happened; only I think the Signor Baldoni came and said he was sorry for the accident, and that he would take us to a better place to pass the night; but which way he took me I am sure I cannot tell; but I suppose in the morning we shall learn where we are, and pursue our journey.' "I thought so too," continued Pepita; "and it was not till many hours had elapsed that any suspicion of foul play entered my mind; and when it did, I did not dare hint my thought to Antonio, till at length he himself began to be uneasy. Not that he had any suspicion of Baldoni; but many strange stories of travellers being betrayed into the hands of banditti by the vetturinos had reached us, and he was afraid we had fallen into some such ambush. As for my own apprehensions, I confess I was afraid to avow them; for if they were well-founded, I comprehended that our case was desperate; for Baldoni must either intend to take our lives, or keep us in perpetual captivity, in order to insure his own safety. "We had no means of computing time, but we fancied about twenty-four hours had elapsed since we awoke from our heavy sleep, when we first heard the sound of an opening door and approaching footsteps. By this time our lamp had gone out, and we were in the dark; but our visitor had a lantern, and I saw that my fears were verified-it was Baldoni. He brought us provisions and oil; but when we asked him where we were, and wherefore imprisoned, he refused to tell us. All he would answer was, that he was acting under authority, and that we should shortly be released. In this story he always persisted; and sometimes he gave us reason to believe that our freedom was at hand. He said that we were to go by sea, and not to return to Italy under pain of death. I believe it was this constant hope of liberty that kept us alive through all these tedious years. years. We never wanted for food or clothing, nor did we suffer much from cold. Neither did any incident vary our sad life, except that once Baldoni exceeded the usual period of his absence by about twenty-four hours, which alarmed us very much, and himself too, I believe; for after that, he always brought us a larger quantity of provisions in case of any accidental impediment to his coming; and it is to this precaution we owe it that we are now alive." The history of the melancholy six years passed in this cruel imprisonment was comprised in these few words; and as Baldoni himself was gone, no further particulars could be collected. These vaults were the secret refuge known traditionally in the family, to which Baldoni had found the clue in the casket. The amount of treasure reported to be there had been greatly exaggerated, but a considerable sum had been always left in case some sudden danger should necessitate a precipitate flight, and of this Baldoni had possessed himself. There were three entrances or exits one under the castle; one in the old hermitage by the sea-shore; and the third, as we have seen, in the chapel. There was every reason to believe that the wine the unfortunate travellers had drunk was drugged; and it appeared evident, from a variety of circumstances, that the wretched man had intended to send them away by sea, after alarming them to such a degree as to deter them from ever attempting to return; but the difficulty of arranging the removal, and his personal apprehensions, had delayed the fulfilment of his intentions till he was himself cut off in the blossom of his sins; an event which would have ensured the death [ of the poor captives, but for the singular train of accidents that led to their release. It is needless to say that the sufferers were well taken care of for the rest of their lives; whilst Lucia, who was guiltless of her father's crimes, was, at the request of Agostino, respectably married, and sent to reside with her husband to Rome. From the Edinburgh Review. UNIVERSITY REFORM. DR. WHEWELL: On Cambridge Studies. London: 1845. Those who know the sentiments which the Edinburgh Review has always promulgated on this important subject, need not be told how heartily we rejoice in the realization of a scheme of the principle of which we have been the constant advocates, and how sanguine must naturally be our hopes of the advantages which the proposed change appears to promise. The alteration looks a simple one, and is so. But it imports a recognition of the great fact, that in the present state of knowledge and of society, something more is required in a college education than mathematics and classics; and it admits, for the first time, the professors, by whose learning and abilities the University has hitherto been more adorned than aided, into their just influence in its system and its degrees. AMID the revolutions which have shaken | its previous system, at the moment of enthrones and overturned dynasties, we have larging them. not entirely escaped. A revolutionary movement which neither the experience of past ages nor the caution of the present age authorized us to expect, has startled the tranquil waters of the Cam and Isis. Towards the close of last year, to the astonishment of those without, and the partial horror of some within her gates, the University of Cambridge herself pronounced against the system which she had so long maintained, in favor of one more liberal, and more wise, and in its spirit we believe more ancient. The nonacademic world is aware that, under the mysterious operations of such cabalistic words as Syndicates, Graces, Triposes, an important change of some sort has been introduced at Cambridge into the academic system of England. The change, translated into ordinary language, is in substance as follows: In the first place, every candidate Hitherto, the university education of Engfor the degree of bachelor of arts, in addition land has been, like the saints of popery, the to the amount of mathematics and classics idol and adoration of one class, the reproach required for a degree at present, must attend and abhorrence of another. While the forthe lectures of one or more of the professors mer have extolled it as the most perfect of the moral or natural sciences, during one consummation of human teaching, the latter term at least, and must produce a certificate have denounced it as the most reckless confrom the professor of having passed a satis- sumption of time and the most shameless factory examination. In the second place, waste of intellect. The one class has expatwo new Honor Triposes are established-tiated on the uniformity and completeness of one for the moral, the other for the natural sciences; the candidates for these honors being arranged in three classes, according to their aggregate merits in all the subjects, with particular marks of distinction in each class for eminent proficiency in particular subjects. The sister University is preparing to follow, though more slowly, and at a little distance. The Oxford scheme, which we are sorry to say has been as yet only partially accepted by convocation, was a little different in its details, but its principle and object were the same; each University proposing to retain the distinctive elements of a system which blends the discipline of the reason with the cultivation of the tastewhich lays its substratum in the rigid rules. of an inflexible geometry or logic, and crowns the edifice with the gorgeous decoration of classical lore-which hardens, and braces, and enriches the mind by a combination of studies to which no rival scheme could be compared, and for which no substitute could be found. The other derides a course of instruction, which sends forth young men into the world, at the age of twenty-one or twenty-two, utterly and completely ignorant of everything but Euclid and algebra or a |