weeks to Paris, there to remain during the winter, than she declined so fast in her health, that in a few days she could scarcely walk about the house. Observing with infinite regret her increasing feebleness, Frederick humanely resolved to defer his journey till he should see the issue of her illness; and, in the meantime, he procured for her the best medical attendance, determined to do every thing which human skill could do for the beautiful alien. By the advice of his medical friends, in accordance with his own view of the case, he would have sent her to her native Italy; but this she over-ruled, declaring she would be buried in Mrs Mather's own aisle.

"Can none of you tell me," said she, one day to Frederick, who was alone with her in the room, as she sat upon the sofa, "what has become of my poor harper ?" "To be sure, Charlotte," he answered; "I know very well where he is. He is off to Italy for a while, and will take care of himself, for your sake, you may be assured." "You are a kind gentleman, sir," returned the maiden; "but it will not do. Yet what boots such a life as mine? Let me die. You will be happy with the beautiful Signora Romelli when I am gone, and then she will be assured that I cannot envy her."

As she said this, she covered her face with one hand, whilst she extended the other. It was pale as a lily bleached with rains; and well could Frederick see that the narrow blue rings of Death, her bridegroom, were on the attenuated fingers. He took the hand and gently kissed it, bidding her take courage, and saying, that she must take care of her life for her brother's sake. At this the maiden, not without a little irritable violence, hastily withdrew her hand, and used it to assist in hiding the tears which began to burst through between the fingers of the other. Trembling succeeded, and a violent heaving of heart, such as threatened to rend her beautiful body to pieces. At this delicate moment Mrs Mather entered the room, and hastened to her assistance.

One afternoon about a week after this, an eminent doctor from the neighbouring town, who generally attended the maiden, took Frederick Hume aside, and in answer to his inquiries regarding her appearance that day, said, "There is but one possible way, Hume, of saving that girl's life." "For God's sake, name it, sir," returned Frederick. "You will be surprised, perhaps, shocked, Dr Hume," continued the other physician; "but it is my duty to tell it to you. Well, then, that Italian girl is dying of love for you." "Whom do you mean, sir? Not Charlotte Cardo?” said Frederick, afraid of the conviction which had flashed upon him. "I cannot be wrong, Frederick," replied the other; "Mrs Mather

hinted the thing to me some time ago. I have seen it from the manner of the girl, and her emotion in your presence, compared with her manner when I visited her without your being with me. To-day she spoke of you under a slight degree of delirium, and when she recovered, I made her confess the whole to me." "You have at least done well to tell me," said Hume, anxiously. "But what must be done?" "Why, sir, as the mere physician in this case, my opinion generally, and without any reference to other circumstances, is, that you must formally make the girl your bride this very night, if you would give her a chance for life. To remove her preying suspense, and dread of losing you, may calm her spirit, and lead to ultimate recovery." "You are an honest, but severe counsellor," said Frederick, shaking his medical friend by the hand with desperate energy; "but, for God's sake, sir, go not away till you tell me again what must be done. Were myself merely the sacrifice, I should not hesitate one moment,-nor perhaps think it a sacrifice. But, good God! I stand pledged to another lady-to Miss Romelli. And now, how can I act? Can there not be at least a little delay-say for a week?" "I think not, sir. No, assuredly. But—” "Sir?" demanded Frederick, eagerly, interrupting him; "speak to me, sir, and propose something. I have entire confidence in your wisdom." "I was merely about to remark," continued the uncompromising physician, "that it is indeed a puzzling case." "The worst of it is," said Hume, "that Miss Romelli is at least fifty miles hence, with her father, at bathing-quarters; and I ought, by all means, to see her and be ruled by her in this matter. Such is certainly my duty." "Much may be said on both sides," briefly remarked the physician, who, most abstractly conscientious in his professional character, would not advise against the means of saving his patient's life. "I will bear the blame then," said Hume, after a short but intense pause. "I cannot see that orphan-child perish, without my attempting to save her. Miss Romelli, I trust, will either be proud or magnanimous, and so the sooner, sir, the ceremony is performed, the better."

The next point was to break the proposal to Mrs Mather; but besides her wish to see Miss Romelli become the wife of Frederick, she was scandalized at the idea of his marrying a girl, whom, despite of her affection for Charlotte, she hesitated not at this time to style a wandering gipsy. "Prithee, madam," said Frederick, bitterly, "do not so speak of my wife that is to be; but go prepare for this strange wedding." Never, never," replied the old lady; "it is all vile art in the huzzy to inveigle you into a snare; I can see that." "Nevertheless, the thing shall be done," re

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turned Hume, firmly. "And I must tell you, madam, without any reference to my interest in her, that you are doing gross in"It may justice to the poor girl, and mocking a bruised heart." be so, sir," said the lady, haughtily;" and, moreover, you may do as you list; but you shall not have my countenance at least."

Accordingly, the old lady left the cottage without delay, and took refuge at the house of a friend, about six miles off, determined there to stay till bridegroom and bride should leave her own dwelling. Meanwhile, Frederick was not disconcerted; but with almost unnatural decision, summoned Miss Pearce, and one or two maids from the neighbouring village, to prepare his bride, and attend her at the strange nuptials. He was too manly and magnanimous to fulfil the letter, without regarding the fine spirit of his sacrifice, and, accordingly, he took every precaution not to hurt or challenge Charlotte's delicacy of feeling; and, particularly, he strictly enjoined every one of the above attendants not to mention that Mrs Mather had left the house, because the thing was utterly against her wish, but that she was kept by indisposition from being present at the ceremony, which on the contrary, it was to be stated, was all to her mind. Miss Pearce, when she learned the flight of her patroness, began to remonstrate against taking any part in the transaction; but Hume drew her aside, and spoke to her emphatically, as follows:-" Why, Miss Pearce, what means this? You know you have been a very obliging madam for a score of years or so, d---d obliging indeed, never wanting for a moment with your excellent suppliance, a most discreet time-server. You know, too, very well, what reason I have to dislike you. I shall soon control Mrs Mather. By my soul, then, you shall now do as I bid you, or be cashiered for ever. Moreover, a word to the wise: you are getting very sharp in the elbows now, you know, and ought to be very thankful for one chance more. So you shall be bride'smaid this evening, and if you enact the thing discreetly, and catch every little prophetic omen or rite by the forelock, why then you know your turn may be next. Think of the late luck of your next neighbour, that great fat overwhelming sexagenarian, like the National Debt, and do not despair. I am peremptory, Miss Pearce, if you please."

The poor creature had not spirit to resist the determined manner of Hume, which she easily recognised through his moody and (but that he knew her to be Miss Pearce) insolent address. She prepared to obey him, yet making, like a staunch Jesuit, her mental reservations, and storing up his obnoxious language to be avenged, should an opportunity ever occur.

And now the small company of bridal guests were assembled in

the lighted hall. Frederick Hume stood by his bride Charlotte Cardo, and took her by the trembling hand. The words of mutual obligation were said by a neighbouring gentleman, a justice of the peace, because, owing to hasty preparation, the ceremony could not be performed according to the forms prescribed by the church, and, therefore, could not be engaged in by a clergyman. During the brief repeating of the marriage obligations, there was death and fire mingled in the bride's eye; her heart was heard by all present beating,

"Even as a madman beats upon a drum ;"

And no sooner was the marriage fully declared, than she sprung forward, threw her arms around the neck of Frederick, kissed him with wild energy, and exclaimed, "O my own husband!" There was a faint and fluttering sound, like the echo of her passionate exclamation, as she sunk back upon the sofa, before which she had stood; the lord of life came reeling down from the bright round throne of the eye; her eyelid flickered for a moment; her lips moved, but nothing was heard ;-yet it was easily interpreted to be a wordless blessing for her beloved one before her, by the smile which floated and lay upon her placid upturned face, like sunshine upon marble. Thus died Charlotte Cardo, and Frederick Hume was a husband and a widower in the same moment of time.

CHAPTER V.

WITH manly and decent composure Frederick ordered the preparations for the funeral of his short-lived spouse; and Mrs Mather, having returned home truly affected at the fate of Charlotte, repentant for her own last harshness to the dying maid, and touched with a sense of Frederick's noble behaviour, gave ample permission to the youth to lay the body of his Italian wife in their family aisle, which was done accordingly, three days after her death. Frederick laid her head in the grave, and continued in deep mourning for her.

According to a decent formula, Dr Hume would willingly enough have abstained for some time from treating with Signora Romelli about their former mutual vow; but, according to the spirit of his pledge, and his true affection for that lady which had been virtually unaltered, even when he most openly compromised it, he wrote to Julia a few days after the funeral, stating the whole circumstances, asking her pardon if he had wronged her, declaring his inalienable affection for her, yet modestly alleging that he had first broken his vow, and that he was at her mercy whether or not she would still be bound to him by hers. Such was Frederick's letter to

Julia, which, had it been in time, she would have kissed with tears, a moment angry, yet soon honouring her lover the more, for the difficult and humane part which he had acted; but the devil of petty malignity and mean rivalry had been beforehand with him, in tempting, from without, his lady's heart; and ere his letter reached its destination, Julia Romelli was lost to him for ever. Dr Stewart, who, as already stated, was a rival of Hume's, had been mean enough to engage Miss Pearce in his interest, to do every thing she could by remote hint and open statement, to advance his suit with Signora Romelli; and we can easily suppose, that this intermediate party, from her dislike to Frederick, and her jealousy of Julia's favour with Mrs Mather, was not idle in her new office. On the very evening of Charlotte Cardo's marriage and death, she sought an interview with Stewart, reminded him of Miss Romelli's proud heart, advised him, without losing a moment, to wait upon that lady and urge his own respectful claims in contrast with Hume's ill usage; and to make all these particulars effective, the Pearce tendered a letter, already written, for Stewart to carry with him to Julia, in which, under the character of a friend, jealous of Miss Romelli's honour, she stated the fact of Hume's having married Charlotte Cardo, without mentioning the qualifying circumstances, or stating that the rival bride was already dead. Stewart was mean enough to follow this crooked policy to the utmost. The she-devil, Pearce, had calculated too justly on poor Julia's proud heart. He pressed his suit; was accepted by the Italian maid in her fit of indignation against Frederick; and they were married privately in great haste.

The first symptom of this unhappy change of affairs which occurred to Hume, was the return of the letter which he had sent to Julia, and which came back to him unopened. About a week afterwards he heard the stunning news of his own love's marriage with another, to feel that he was cut off for ever from the hopes of his young life:-for he had loved passionately, and with his whole being.

Days, weeks, passed over him, and his existence was one continuous dream of thoughts, by turns fierce and gentle; now wild as the impaled breast of a suicide, now soft as breathings of pity from the little warm heart of a young maid. One while he cursed the pride and cruelty of Julia, (for he knew not the part which Miss Pearce had acted,) and he made a vow in his soul, for his own peace of mind, never again to see her in this mortal life. Then he was disposed to curse the memory of Charlotte Cardo; but his heart was too magnanimous to let him long give way to this feeling. On the contrary, to keep down such thoughts, and to be