"Must it be so ?" said the count, as he walked up and down the room much agitated. Yet, Eugene O'Dorney, bethink you ere you let me fill the vessels of your peace with wrath-place, it may be, for this idle curiosity, an accuser in your conscience, and in your memory a madness. I, of all "Monster!" cried I, unable to endure this men, would fain not do this: but the safety any longer. "How have I offended thee?-nay, the very being of my child, voids all

mysterious, alike revenged your father's events, and resided in different parts of wrongs, and closed your wretched mother's Italy, but seldom for any length of time in life and my own earthly happiness together. one place. I would have returned to EngThere had been, since I left England, two land, but there the public mind, by the aid attempts on my life, which, as I could not of an unscrupulous and licentious press, rationally attribute them to any more formi- had been grossly abused and prejudiced dable enemies, I imputed to some of my against me. The wild stories about, conItalian servants, whom I had occasion from nected with the dreadful catastrophe at time to time to dismiss-a sufficient cause Pisa, with still more monstrous additions, to excite these vindictive people to had been assiduously propagated; and acts of revenge, and which, no doubt, those only who have been the victims of led to the attack made upon me at Genoa, popular misrepresentation, know how vain when you so opportunely came to my rescue. and futile it is to hope to combat against Thus judging, I treated the matter lightly; for preconceived opinions. I had made a promas I always went armed, and was generally ise also to Lady Warrenmore that our attended by my English servant, who had daughter Francesca should not marry an served with me in the Peninsula, I found Englishman, meaning by the term, of course, little difficulty in opposing such designs. a British subject; she dreaded that in after Yet though I did not allow my uneasiness to life that daughter might feel shame, when be visible or known to all, much less known others would talk lightly of her unhappy to Lady Warrenmore, I could not altogether mother. Nor think, Eugene Delaval, that cease to feel surprise and apprehension at that unhappy mother did quite forget her the frequency and perseverance of these son; four times every year, from the hour attempts. At the time of the fearful event she left your father's roof, a special meswhich I am about to describe, we were living senger was despatched to bring her tidings at the Palazzo at Pisa. It was evening. of your welfare. I had been reading rather late; most of our domestics were absent attending some reli. gious festa, and Lady Warrenmore had just left me in the library to order in lights. I felt drowsy, and reclined my head upon the table. I had not thus remained many minutes, when I was roused by a short but fearful shriek, and springing on my feet, I had only time to catch the murdered Beatrice, as, interposed between me and the assassin, she fell bleeding in my arms. Lady Warrenmore, returning to the library, beheld the assassin stealthily approaching; he was already within a few paces of me, when losing, in the terror of the moment, all self-command and judgment, she threw herself between me and the bravo, and received the uplifted poniard in her heart."

"Strange rumours were soon afloatsurmises more unnatural still than the dreadful truth itself, for calumny spared not even my own name; but to the rela. tions and friends of Lady Warrenmore the evidences of my past love and present hopeless misery spoke trumpet-tongued against these horrid suspicions. I made interest, however, to procure from the officers of justice a private inquiry; and having offer. ed an immense reward, but in vain, for the apprehension of the assassin, to avoid the curiosity of the malevolent or the credulous, which I found equally insupportable, I left Pisa, and upon doing so, I assumed instead of my proper title, the collateral name of our house, for some years after these dark

"My sole thoughts were now directed to the education and future happiness of my daughter-she grew up all that a father's fondest wishes could desire, the image of her beauteous and unfortunate mother; her society softened my sorrows, and, supported by her, I looked forward to spending the evening of my days in serenity and peace."

Here Lord Warrenmore became greatly moved by his feelings: sympathising with him, and overpowered by the sudden prostration of all my earthly hopes, we mingled our tears together.

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Francesca," continued Lord Warrenmore, "had now almost grown to womanhood; her exceeding beauty attracted a crowd of admirers, and proportionably filled me with apprehensions for her happiness. I began to repent of my promise to Lady Warrenmore, for I had a prejudice to uniting my daughter with a foreigner, and longed to place her in that station to which her birth and fortune entitled her, and which her own native graces could not fail of adorning. It was, therefore, without any feelings of regret that I saw her reject the overtures and attentions of some of the most distinguished of the Neapolitan noblesse, who pressed forward as her suitors. Influenced by these feelings in a more than ordinary degree, I set out two months ago on my journey to Genoa, for the purpose of meeting there my English agent, and with the intention of deliberating about my return to England, and making the necessary arrangements for that purpose. It was at Genoa that I heard from my friend, the marquis, of your proposal, and consequent rejection for the cause I have now stated. The increasing desire, however, of returning to my native land, and your own gallant conduct on the Mole of Genoa, not only inclined me to give more attention to your suit, but enlisted me strongly in your favour. Resolv

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ed, however, not to commit myself till I I will pass over a recital of my sufferings. could myself hear your proposals, and more A letter was brought to me-it was from accurately know your position, I hastened Francesca. With what a conflict of unutmy return to Naples. I came unexpectedly. terable feelings did I open and peruse that That I was hurt and mortified at finding fond testimony of a hopeless passion, but that my daughter could receive you clandes- eloquent memorial of unshaken love! In tinely, I need not say, but now regret not, pursuance of his plan, her father had told her since it has hastened a revelation which, that I had abandoned her, and was about postponed, might only have been more to leave Naples to give my hand to another. dreadful. You now know all-hate me if Backed with all the weight which the chayou will, as the author of these woes; but racter of a beloved father inspires, he had if you love Francesca, if you value her hap- told her this. But," said the high-minded piness and peace of mind, be led by me in girl, "till his own voice proclaims, or his adopting the only means that can now serve hand indites it, Francesca St. Maurice would her. I know her spirit well with all the as soon doubt her creed as believe Eugene gentle meekness of the dove she combines Delaval a traitor." Alas! how was I pledgthe deep force and energy of passion-san-ed to answer this appeal. After some fond guine and imaginative in the glowing mysteries of our ancient creed, half an enthusiast in religion. To know you now, and knowing how she has loved you, would be to shake her self-esteem, and, as she is innocent and pure, to break her heart. But she is proud, else she would not be my child. To this, then, we must appeal. This day, for I see the morning breaks, we cross over to my villa in Sicily; you must write to Francesca, and in cold and measured words, as the heartless men of this world use, when they would palliate their treachery and desertion, you must tell her to think of you no I groaned aloud. "Ay," continued Lord Warrenmore, "the medicine is bitter, the remedy perilous, but it is all that remains to us at all hazards this fatal passion must be subdued. And, now, Eugene Delaval, farewell-our paths have strangely crossed each other-a wayward destiny has made you acquainted with her, whom you should have only met to recognise the ties which nature did establish between you; but out of seeming evil there often does comes good-let us then hope the best. If my plan succeeds, you may yet look forward to a reunion with your sister."

more."

The morning of that dreadful interview found me the victim of a delirious fever. My recovery was long doubtful, and a fortnight had rolled away under its burning influence, before I awoke to a full sense of my desolation and misery. Still at times I persuaded myself that my feverish brain deceived me, and that what I counted as the suggestions of memory were only hideous phantoms of some horrible dream. I called Nicolo-poor boy, he had scarcely ever left my bedside-and I questioned him, only to confirm my misery. Count St. Maurice had, indeed, been with me-he had not called since. I began to recall the substance of our interview. I ordered Nicolo to make inquiries for the count at the Marchese de Castelnova's. He was not long absent, for the way was familiar to him. All, all was true; the windows and verandas of the palazzo were closed, the family had left Naples on a tour, and it was believed that the count and the Lady St. Maurice had accompanied

them.

complaints of my not seeing them, she went on conjuring me to hasten to her. She was assured that I had been misrepresented to her father; "but when he knows you, Eugene," said the sanguine girl," he will not fail to love you as I do. Come to us, then," she continued; "you have never been in Sicily, the Eden of the earth, the lovely island which alone will realise all you have dreamt of your classical Ogygia-but enchanting as are those scenes, to Francesca they seem a wilderness while you are absent-come- For, lo! winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land."

Fair victim of our joint evil destiny! how bitter was now my task! But this tender evidence of the continuance of a deadly passion roused me to a sense of the danger of her whom now, with the concentrated force of every human tie, I prized far dearer than my life. I recalled to mind my promise to Lord Warrenmore-I saw no other means to save her; so, summoning up all my resolution, I overcame the compunctions of an erring nature-denied myself the least expression of that fatal love I could not conquer, and bade her think of me no more.

I now began slowly to recover from the debility which fever leaves behind it. I began to think of returning to my native land; but as my indifference as to the future seemed only to increase, I delayed my departure from day to day. It was in this state of mind that I received two letters, one from Lord Warrenmore, the other from Francesca, the last she ever penned to me. The first three tremulously written words of that heart-rending letter conveyed to me in a moment the whole of its melancholy burden.

"My dearest Eugene-my beloved brother!"-Yes she knew all-her father had revealed to her the fatal mystery, and she blessed him for it; for to believe that I was false, although my very letter did attest it, was the only torture that she could not bear. The shock which my letter gave, the revulsion from sanguine hope to black despair, allowed no operation to our antidote-her

warring passions seemed to invite the shock, as some fatal principle in the lofty cedar calls down the lightning which destroys it; and like it she lay felled--the beauty of the forest.

To relieve her wounded spirit, when all other means had failed, and as all hope of her ultimate recovery had departed from those who attended her, her wretched father, in answer to her importunities, declared to her the truth.

smote painfully on my ear. It came from a rustic oratory, which crowned one of the neighbouring heights. I could not be deceived as to the nature of those sounds, so little in unison with the smiling aspect of external nature. "Ay," thought I, "death hath found his way even into this happy valley." And with a sinking heart I now beheld the funeral party, as, diverging from an orange grove, they wound up the pathway leading to the chapel. The order of the procession "Oh, why was I not told of this before? was remarkable: close after the stoled priest, Still, then Eugene, I may love thee-love thee who walked slowly in front, came a band of with a purer and a holier love; and think female mourners, who, with their faces, not this beyond my power, for I may not which were closely veiled, bent upon the be always with thee!-but this relief, how-earth, advanced, chanting a low plaintive ever soothing, comes too late. All the days hymn. Next came the hearse, a rude litter, of Francesca are numbered-but come to strewed with a black pall, and drawn by me, dearest Eugene; let me behold thee oxen. A troop of peasant-girls, bearing gar. again before I go hence and be no more | lands of white flowers, surrounded the hearse, seen-come, and extend to me the comfort But who is yonder old and miserable man. that we shall meet beyond the grave, for I whose very gait seems eloquent of anguishfeel that my love shall never die. Come, my that, leaning on an aged servant, closes this beloved, and receive with my latest breath sad cavalcade? I became deeply interested, that purest, tenderest, aspiration—a sister's and, pushing rapidly forward, in a few minutes blessing!" was mingled with the procession. Heaven and earth!-in that ghastly image of parental sorrow whom do I behold? Can a few weeks have worked the ravages of icy winters! Yes, where all appeared to mourn, the chief mourner was indeed Lord Warrenmore! "The silver chord was loosed, the golden bowl was broken," the bright spirit of Francesca St. Maurice had departed the earth, and I only followed her remains!

Let me no longer pause. The letter of Lord Warrenmore only more fearfully confirmed that of his unhappy daughter. He wrote in a state bordering on distraction; his misery and desolation were complete. He united with his daughter in urging me to hasten to them. "There is no hope of her recovery," said the wretched man; "but your presence may soothe her, and soften her departure from this world to a better."

O God! there needed not these inducements. With a heart wrung with agony, I put myself on board of the packet for Messina; but, as if I had been delivered over to the tortures of some, evil spirit, we had scarcely got to sea when contrary winds sprang up, and it was not till the second morning after our leaving Naples that we succeeded in working up through the Pharo of Messina. I lost no time, after landing, in procuring horses and a guide, and setting out for the villa of Lord Warrenmore. It lay, as I was informed, about twelve miles from Messina, on the Catania road.

I seemed to have received an unnatural strength-I saw the grave close over the form of her I had so fatally loved, yet stayed them not; but I felt as if the Theban's destiny had only been spared me, that I might endure half the vampire's curse.

As the rude sexton placed the last green sod upon her sacred clay, Lord Warrenmore, who stood on the opposite side of the grave, for the first time broke silence. "Bear witness," said he, in a voice like that of the dead, "bear witness, Eugene Delaval, that your father was revenged!"

fly

At that grave we parted for ever. Go, Eugene," said the wretched father, from the guilty author of these woes-O that their desolation had fallen on him alone!but farewell; here must my glass run out, for, were life as dear as it is hateful, I could not longer live-my only earthly wish is soon to rest with her who sleeps below."

My mind was too fully occupied with my own gloomy thoughts to pay much regard to the scenes, however lovely, through which we passed; but, towards the evening, we entered a secluded valley, so beautifully situated that involuntarily I was wiled away from my dark meditations, and paused to con- That wish was granted him. A few weeks template the tranquil beauty of the scene more had scarcely passed, when another fuwhich surrounded me. Beyond the heights neral train was seen assembling in that quiet which confined the valley, the snowy sides valley. Again the solemn voice of its chapel of cloud-capt Etna were seen towering in bell proclaimed that man was borne to his the distance; in the bosom of the vale itself long home, and the last scion of a noble lay a scattered hamlet; here and there were house, whose war-cry had mingled with the seen peasant girls in the bright dresses of victor's shout on the red field of Hastings, in their country, milking their fleecy goats, and a strange land, with scarcely more attendshepherds driving homeward their flocks to ance than a few simple peasants, was laid to fold. It was one of those peaceful scenes on rest beside the blasted fruit and sinless vicwhich the mind, and, above all, the sorrow-tim of his guilty love. ful mind yearning, loves to dwell, and I was giving up myself to sad and tender musings, when the slow, solemn toll of a chapel bell

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I departed from Sicily, but there my heart lay buried. The world was now a void-a wilderness to me. I felt sick, weary of life ;