idea: but circumstances, lightly passed over before, returned now in crowds to my recollection to confirm me in it. From that moment I renewed my observations daily, and with still increased vigilance, and was obliged to come to the painful conclusion, that my suspicions were not only but too well founded with regard to Sir Charles, but that Ellen returned his passion. Yes, she was romantically in love with the husband of her sister! I seldom find myself wrong in my opinions, yet, in this case, I would willingly have given five hundred pounds to feel sure that I was in error. Such was the interest with which the extreme beauty, the vivacity and grace of the youthful Ellen had inspired me. Here then was food for philosophy as well as reflection. Who shall say that inquirers are impertinent, when such facts as these can be elicited? Had it not been for me--such is the apathy of people about what does not concern them-a base husband, and an artful intriguing sister, might still have maintained a fair face to the world; but I was determined to cut the matter short, and open the eyes of the deluded wife as to the real extent of her injury. Honour compelled me to it. Let not the reader think me rash,—I will explain the circumstances which influenced my conviction. Oh, Ellen! how have I been deceived in thee! How hast thou betrayed a too susceptible heart. Sir Charles was an M. P., which my ingenuity in setting together hours and facts enabled me to make sure of. He frequently returned late from the debates in the house. The weather grew warm, and the shutters were always left open till the family retired for the night. Their lamps were brilliant, and I could discern the fair Ellen peeping over the balustrades of the staircase, and lingering and waiting on the landing place, evidently on the look-out for an anxiously expected arrival. Then the cab of Sir Charles would stop at the door-his well-known knock would be heard, and Ellen would fly with the lightness of a fairy to meet him as he ascended the stairs. He would then fold her in his arms, and they would enter the drawng-room together; yet, before they did so, five or ten minutes' telea-tete frequently took place on the landing, and the arm of Sir Charles was constantly withdrawn from the waist of Ellen, before they opened the drawing-room door and appeared in the presence of the poor neglected wife, whom he greeted with no embrace, as he took his seat beside her on the sofa. For some time I set down the empressments of Ellen to meet Sir Charles as that of a lively and affectionate girl to greet her sister's husband, in the manner she would receive her own brother. I was soon obliged to think differently. When Ellen played on the harp, which she did almost daily, Sir Charles would stand listening beside her, and would frequently imprint a kiss on her beautiful brow, gently lifting aside the curls which covered it: but this never took place when Lady Seymour was in the room-mark that—no, not in a single instance. Sir Charles sometimes sat reading in a chair near the drawing-room window, and would, as Ellen passed him, fondly draw her towards him and hold her hands, while he appeared to converse with her in the most animated manner. If the door opened, and the poor wife came in, the hands were instantly released. As the spring advanced, the appearance of Lady Seymour, and more frequent visits of Mr Blagden, led me to suppose her confinement drew near; she became later in rising in the morning, and Sir Charles and Ellen almost constantly took a very early tete-a-tete walk in the park, from which they usually returned long before Lady Seymour made her appearance in the drawing-room. A very handsome man, with a viscount's coronet on his cab, was a frequent visitor in Upper Brook Street. I doubted not but that he was an admirer of and suitor to the fair Ellen. Yet she slighted him; he was entirely indifferent to her: otherwise why did she often leave the drawing-room during his very long morning visits, and sit reading in the window of a room up stairs, or playing with the baby in the nursery, leaving her sister to entertain him? The reason was too evident; cruel and heartless Ellen! My heart bled more and more for the poor wife; I absolutely began to hate Ellen. At length, closed bedroom shutters, hurry and bustle, cart-loads of straw, and the galloping chariot of Mr Blagden, announced the accouchement of Lady Seymour. All seemed happily over before the house was closed for the night. Sir Charles and Ellen were in the drawing-room together. The lady's maid rushed into the apartment; I almost fancied that I heard her exclaim," My lady is safe, and a fine boy." So well did the de ceitful Ellen act her joy, she clasped her hands together, and then, in the apparent delight of her heart, shook hands with the maid, who left the room directly. My heart was relenting towards her, as she was flying to follow the woman, no doubt with the intention of hastening to the bedside of her sister; but no-she returned to tenderly embrace Sir Charles before she quitted the drawing-room. At such a time too! Oh, faithless and cruel Ellen! Sir Charles and Ellen were now more frequently together-more in love than ever. They sang together, read together, walked together, played with the little boy together, and nursed the new little baby in turns. In due course of time poor Lady Seymour recovered, and resumed her station in the drawing-room, and then Sir Charles was less frequently at home. I was furious at him as well as at Ellen. All my tender compassion and interest centred in the unhappy and neglected wife. One other instance in corroboration of the justness of my suspicions I will relate. A miniature painter, whom I knew by sight, came early every morning to the house. Sir Charles was sitting for his picture. One morning, when I concluded it must be nearly finished, Sir Charles and the artist left the house together. I saw the picture lying on the table near the window, in the same spot where the artist had been working at it for nearly two hours before, while Sir Charles was sitting to him. I had not for a moment lost sight of it, and am ready to affirm upon oath, that the miniature was the likeness of Sir Charles, and of no one else; for you must know that I have a small pocket telescope by which I can detect these nice points accurately. Well,-Miss Ellen came into the room; she was alone;—she walked up to the picture, gazed on it for a long while, and-will it be believed?--pressed it several times to her lips and then to her heart!-Yes, I am quite sure she pressed it to her heart; no one can deceive me in that particular. She did not indeed think or guess that any eye observed her ;-but oh! Ellen, there was an eye over you that never slumbered, at least very seldom. Things had thus arrived at such a pass, that concealment on my part would have been criminal. My duty was clear, an instant exposure, without regard to the feelings of any one. But how could it be accomplished without personal danger. Sir Charles was a shot. I had seen a case of pistols arrive from John Marton and Son, Dover Street; besides. he was big enough to eat me, so that putting myself forward was out of the question. I had it-I would write to the Times and the True Sun, under the signature of "a Friend to Morality.' That very night I condensed these notes into three columns, as I said to the editor, not to occupy too great a space in his valuable journal; and early on the following morning I arose to despatch my letters, when, what should greet my astonished senses, but, at the door of the Seymours, their travelling carriage with four post horses! What could it mean? I had seen no signs of packing; no trunks, or waggons! What could it mean? I stood perfectly aghast; my eyes were fixed intently upon the carriage.-Oh! I had it again, my wits never fail me-the murder was out. I need not write to the Times. Miss Ellen was discovered, and going to be sent off to school, or perhaps to" dull aunts and croaking rooks" in the country! I was glad to be spared the pain of forwarding the explanation; and yet-Good heavens! what was my surprise and profound mystification when Sir Charles appeared, handing in, first Lady Seymour, a beautiful flush on her countenance, radiant with smiles, and almost as quick and light in her movements as Ellen herself-then that old nurse with the new baby-then Ellen, smiling as usual; and last of all, Sir Charles got upon the box, followed by the Viscount!! and then off they drove as fast as the horses could carry them. My eyes and mouth continued wide open long after they had turned the corner into Park Lane. I was at my wit's end; at sea without a rudder. What could all this possibly portend? The little boy was left behind too! and all the servants, with the exception of one of the lady's maids, and Sir Charles's own man. Could it be that Ellen was going to be palmed off upon the poor deceived Viscount? But why then should they go out of town to be married? why had not I seen the least glimpse of a lawyer, or any preparation for a trousseau ? and why did the new baby go with them? that could not be of much use at a wedding. No, that could not be it. Where could they be going? I passed a restless day, a sleepless night. The next morning I grew desperate, and was on the point of sallying forth in my cap and dressing gown, to knock at the door of the deserted mansion, and demand satisfaction of the butler, when who should I pounce upon at the door, but my old friend General Crosby. It was devilish unlucky, but I was obliged to ask him up. "I intended to call on my friends, the St Legers, over the way, this morning," said he, "but I find they are gone to Portsmouth." "To Portsmouth, are they? that's very curious," said I, interrupting him. "Do you know the family?" asked I, with something like agitation. "I have known Sir Charles St Leger all his life; he married Fanny Spenser, a daughter of Admiral Spenser." "Good God!" Why are you surprised?" asked he gravely. "Why, General, I must be candid with you; truth and honour compel me to a disclosure, which, I am sure will, as a friend of the family, cause you exceeding pain." The general was now surprised in his turn. "Good heavens!" he ejaculated, "Nothing has happened to MIS Murray or the child, I hope.' "I don't know who you mean by Mrs Murray," I replied, with great seriousness. "It is of Lady St Leger and her sister that I am about to speak." And I then told him every circumstance of guilt, with their corroborating proofs, to which I had been so unwilling a witness; I told him all without disguise; to all of which he listened, as I thought, very calmly, apathetically indeed, considering he was a friend of the family; but on the conclusion of my recital, to my great dismay, he arose, put on his hat, and looking at me sternly, said, "Sir. the lady whom you have thus honoured by so great a RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS. 141 share of your attention is not the intriguante you suppose, is not the = paramour of Sir Charles St Leger, but is no other than his wife and my god-daughter. I wish you, Sir, a good morning." "But, "Wife! god-daughter!" I repeated in a faint voice. General, for God's sake, one instant: the elder lady ?" "Is Lady St Leger's elder sister, the wife of the gallant Captain Murray, whose absence on service she has been some time lamenting. His ship has arrived at Portsmouth, and they are all gone to meet him." He had reached the door; I was in an agony; my hair stood on end;"One word more: the Viscount?" "Is Captain Murray's elder brother. And before I take my leave, permit me to wish you a better occupation than clandestinely watching the actions of others, of misinterpreting the actions of an amiable and virtuous lady, and traducing the character of an estimable man, whose refinement of feeling you have neither mind to understand nor appreciate. Sir, I wish you again a good morning." What would I not have given at that moment of shame to have been on my travels down the bottomless pit! Anywhere rather than on the first floor at Brook street. I was positively at my wits' end. I hung my head, completely abashed, discomfited-I had nothing to say, absolutely not a word—and was thoroughly ashamed of myself and my ingenuity. Had I possessed a tail, I should have slunk off with it hanging down between my legs, in the manner I have seen a discomfited dog do: but I had no such expressive appendage, and I could only ejaculate to myself at intervals, during the whole of the next three days "God bless my soul! what a false scent I have been on! And for a bachelor gentleman too, not at all given to invention! Yet how was I to guess that a wife could be in love with her husband? There is some excuse for me after all. God bless my soul!" P. S. The St Legers are returned-Capt. Murray is with them -French blinds are putting up all over the house, "Othello's occupation's gone," can't stand it-off to the continent. Monthly Mag. RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS. WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free In the silken sail of infancy, The tide of time flowed back with me The forward-flowing tide of time; |