bear it very well; indeed I can! These tears will soon be over, and then I shall be tranquil. It is a respect I owe my father's memory—a duty I owe myself, not to quit his remains till they are in the grave."

It

Lady Azledine, however, knew too well what prolonged misery this would cause, to relinquish her solicitations; and, finally, she prevailed. In her way to the stairs, Caroline had to pass the door of her late father's room. was not quite closed. Involuntarily she cast a shuddering glance towards the darkened chamber for an instant her eyes rested upon the bed, where she dimly saw the loosely thrown sheet that covered, but did not conceal, the corpse beneath. She clung closer to Arabella, and hurried to the carriage which was waiting to convey her to the Hall.

When the mournful ceremony of the funeral was over (at which she assisted with the reluctantly-granted permission of her kind friends), and when her grief had assumed the dejected character of a tender recollection only of its cause, a pensive homage to the memory of her

deceased parent, Lady Azledine ventured to mention the subject of her remaining altogether at the Hall.

It was no part of Caroline's nature to affect a repugnance, that she might seem to yield her own wishes to those of another. She rejoiced rather in making a favour rich in the estimation of the giver, by such an acceptance as denoted her own sense of its value. Frankly, and at once therefore, she acceded to the proposed arrangement, and became a member of Sir Everton's family, -to the delight of all, but especially so to that of her long-attached friend, Arabella. Independently, indeed, of her own desires, she seemed to be thus fulfilling, if not a positive injunction, at least what she knew to be an anxious wish, of her late father, and one which, could he have been assured of its performance, would have soothed the closing hours of his life.

VOL. I.

E

CHAPTER VII.

On then, and forget your simple uncle ;
Think he was the master of a jewel

Whose worth and use he knew not.

BEAUMONT and FLETCHER'S " Prophetess."

We must now take our leave, for a while, of Azledine Hall and its inmates, to explain the circumstances of Stephen Dugard's flight, and relate some of the incidents that befel him after the execution of that bold design.

During the last year of his abode with Mr. Bosley, Stephen had wholly discontinued his visits to his uncle; in consequence, as he alleged, of the increasing scorn with which he was treated by Lady Azledine. Sir Everton, however, generally called upon him once or twice a month; and sometimes he and Stephen. would ride out together on horseback.

It was in one of those excursions that the Baronet announced his intention of sending him to London, to be placed in a merchant's house; giving him, at the same time, to understand that, if he conducted himself with propriety, he might look forward to becoming, one day, a partner in the firm, with such advantages as would secure his future prosperity in life.

Stephen received this communication with suitable expressions of gratitude, and assured Sir Everton of his ready disposition to acquiesce in whatever he might propose. But he had an adviser at this period, who had acquired such an ascendancy over him, that in everything he did he acted solely from his directions.

This Mentor was Andrew Mayfield, whose farm was not more than a mile from Mr. Bosley's house. At the time he took it, he was offered the choice of three by Sir Everton,-all at the same rent. He selected the one in tion.

ques

It was the worst of the three in every respect; but it was the nearest of the three to

Mr. Bosley. The Baronet gave him credit for something like honourable and disinterested feeling in the business; they who were competitors for his refusal, at a rent equivalent to their full value, laughed in their sleeves, and gave him credit for nothing but ignorance, which prevented him from knowing how to choose the best; Andrew gave himself creditfor having secured his object.

Stephen passed much of his time at farmer Mayfield's, as he was now called; and from the united influence of natural disposition and some early impressions, found his greatest delight in doing so. He had so little taste for scholastic pursuits, that, when Mr. Bosley had flogged into him an exceedingly small quantity of reading, writing, and the rule of three, he was at the upper end of his learning, and the lower end of his form. But though last in the school-room, he was always first in the play-ground, and the leader in every project of frolicsome or daring mischief.

As he advanced in years, his nature became more turbulent, his passions more violent, and