so long as he induced his father to exercise the same custody over some mystery equally momentous, which was deposited in his keeping. But how was poor Luke to exact this of the good old man; ignorant as he was to what extent the concession might compromise his character and safety? In his correspondence with the terrible man by whom he was menaced, the ill-fated exile (felt as if fighting a deadly duel in the dark. A word more or less might peril his life,—a word more or less might be fatal to the happiness of those who were far dearer. Amid the arduous duties of the post he was now filling, these anxieties incessantly recurred, embittering the whole peace of his life, and invalidating all his efforts. A curse was upon him! It was in vain he strove to live, and labour, and prosper. The stigma once incurred was ineffaceable. One day, after a sleepless night, one day when, in a state rather resembling clairvoyance than reverie, produced by the reperusal of his English letters, he had seemed to behold the fair form of Esther, his kinswoman, — his cousin, his childhood's companion, — struggling in the embraces of a ruffian against whom his poor old father had no longer strength to defend her, he determined, at any risk, at any cost, to visit England and defy the worst. Had not Esther assured him that every trace of that dire event was, by her prudent care, completely removed? And was it likely that the county magistracy, in spite of the length of its ears, would listen to the unsupported testimony of one who had no motive to adduce for the silence by which he had hitherto defeated the ends of justice? He would hazard the trial. It appeared dastardly to resign to their fate a feeble old man and timid young girl, while he was sunning him securely in the prosperities of life. Having obtained leave of absence from his duties, and publicly announced the necessity of visiting his friends in Europe, Laurence Donovan realized a sufficient sum for the furtherance of his projects, and embarked for his native country. While As he set foot upon the deck of the vessel that was destined to convey Cæsar and his fortunes, his heart almost failed him. still surrounded by a host of leave-taking friends, who were loading him with commissions for England and offers of service during his absence, a still small voice appeared to whisper in his ear," An eye for an eye,-a tooth for a tooth! It is written, that mischief shall hunt the violent man.' 6 CHAPTER XIII. I saw him beat the surges under him, The surge most swollen that met him; his bold head To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, He came alive to land. It was chance No, no!-He's gone! SHAKSPEARE. Winter was drawing on again. By degrees, the children at the rectory were forced to abandon their ramblings into Warling Wood. The Hams were too damp for their little feet. But there was little to regret in their favourite haunt. The last blackberry was gone. Nothing that took their fancy remained, save the red berries of the orchis, upstarting like polished coral from among the tawny fallen leaves; or the robins, with their breasts of rival redness and gem-like eyes, piping on the naked boughs. But these they heard better and saw as well among the hollies and Portugal laurels of their grandfather's overgrown shrubbery. In time, even this home-circuit became impossible to the little creatures. The weather set in with boisterous violence. Considerable mischief was done to the new works of Sir Mark Colston, by a series of gales almost amounting to a hurricane; and though the situation of Hartington, twenty miles from the coast, afforded no personal interest in the shipping department, sad rumours crossed the country of numerous wrecks, attended with loss of life. The state of the weather served to prolong, by a week or so, the hopes and fears of Esther Harman, when the period arrived for the return of the mail which she hoped would bring an answer from New York. But at length she was forced to give up all expectation. The storms lulled again, the winds were |