a respectable place. Mr. Chapman will draw out the statement." There was a dead silence while Mr. Chapman was writing; I raised my eyes to look at Lucy. The girl was evidently so entirely unhinged by what had occurred, that she seemed quite unconscious that the matter on hand concerned her. "Now, Lucy," said Mr. Chapman briskly, "sign this." "Read it to her first," exclaimed my aunt. "But it is not a lie, sir, indeed," said Lucy faintly, interrupting Mr. Chapman as he read. Mr. Chapman paid no attention to her, but read on to the end. "Now," said he, "we won't argue the question of it's being a lie or not; that would be an utter loss of time, for every person of common-sense must be convinced that it is. If you sign this paper, you obtain the advantages your mistress has offered; if you refuse, you leave this house a beggar, without a character. Choose;" and he offered her a pen. "Lucy!" I cried involuntarily. The girl turned and looked at me with unmeaning gaze. "Silence!" said my aunt to me in a severe tone; "don't you interfere with her." Mr. Chapman was whispering to Lucy. From what I overheard, it was evident that he merely attributed her hesitation to an obstinate persistence in her story. But I could not keep silence. I had been forced to speak against Josiah upon strong conviction. I should never have felt convinced of my mistake if I thought that the girl had signed the paper from mercenary motives. "Lucy," said I, "listen to me. The question is, was Mr. Josiah with you in the garden that evening before the dinner, or not? They say it was your interest once to declare he was; it is now clearly your interest to deny it. Lay aside this wretched question of interest, and speak the truth. You will have to speak the truth one day. It is better to speak it now, though it makes you a beggar, than speak it hereafter with shame and remorse." I could see how agitated the girl was; pain of irresolution flushed her face; she abruptly left Mr. Chapman and came to my side. "I won't sign it!" she exclaimed. "I did speak the truth." My aunt was the first to recover from the surprise which my conduct created. She rang the bell; the butler entered. "Pay that girl," said she, "a month's wages, and turn her out of the house. Mind, she leaves this house not a thief, but a liar." My courage had ebbed away with the words I had addressed to Lucy; I sank into a chair overwhelmed with an intense feeling of moral exhaustion; then my aunt, in the bitterest words, upbraided me for the opinion I persisted in entertaining about Josiah. She would insist upon it, notwithstanding all my assurances, that I had eagerly caught at the girl's story, in the hopes of undermining Josiah's character; but the scheme had failed-the blow had fallen on my head. She called upon Mr. Chapman to witness her words: "Not one penny of her fortune should be mine; henceforth, I should work for my bread as a governess, and cease to be an inmate of her house." Suddenly recollecting herself, she drew Mr. Huntly's letter from her pocket. "There," said she, "the sooner you answer that, the better. Now! this evening! go, and say you are a beggar, and see if he will care for you." I was very angry indignant at her cruel challenge. I spoke at random. "I will go," said I, and I left the room. I was far too excited to think. I put on my bonnet, hurried down-stairs, and shut the hall-door after me. Whither?-to Mrs. Huntly's - but ? I began to think as I turned on the door step, and looked forth on the common: the old home-scene, so familiar, years and years I had looked out upon it from my bed-room window. The sun was beginning to set as I lingered on the door-step; the whole scene was bright and warm, but it chilled me through and through. The feeling of home was gone-I felt I was face to face with the cold hard world. Then doubt and desolation came upon me. aunt had been alone, I would have returned, and swallowed my words, and prayed on my knees to be taken back; but I thought of Josiah's triumph-I dare not face that; and I turned away, and left the house. If my I shall never forget the cruel doubts which beset me in that short walk to Mrs. Huntly's, the sad possibilities which thronged my brain; not that I doubted | tened to the house; the doctor's carriage of his love, but I knew he was not rich; was at the door. I asked how my aunt he might have looked for something on was. The butler said she was very ill. my part to enable us to marry. At the Could I see her? The man said he had very least, I was throwing myself on his strict orders to refuse me admittance. generosity, not only accepting, but seizing "Whose orders ?" I inquired. eagerly at his offer, as a drowning wretch "Mr. Josiah's," was the reply. I was clutches at a straw. Then my circum-reflecting upon what I had better do, stances were so totally changed since the when the doctor came down-stairs. offer was made, that my pride revolted had always been a very kind friend of at the idea of forcing him, out of honor, mine. to take me as his wife. The idea of going to Mrs. Huntly's, which, on the spur of the moment, had appeared perfectly natural and proper, began to seem nothing short of utter boldness and impudence. I am sure I must have given it up, and gone back humbly to my aunt's, had heMr. Huntly not overtaken me on the common; he only bowed, and would have passed on, (he said afterwards he thought he had no right to address me till his letter was answered.) I spoke his name only very low, but he caught it, and turned. I felt terribly frightened, and could scarcely speak, but this was only at first; a few words from him, and doubt was over, and he took me home to his mother. Mrs. Huntly was very kind to me; she called me from the very first her daughter, listening with a mother's sympathy to all I had to say. I was to call their house my home; and in a very short time it really was my own home. We were married as speedily as arrangements would permit. He "I'm so glad you are here," said he; "I think it might do your aunt good; she has mentioned your name several times." He begged to have a few words with me in the dining-room. "But I'm refused admittance." "Mr. Josiah's orders, sir," said the butler, puzzled what to do. "I'll be responsible," replied the doctor, and I followed him into the dining-room. The doctor did not disguise from me that it was a most serious attack. It was agreed that I should enter my aunt's room as if nothing had occurred between us, and busy myself with the general arrangements. My aunt's face did brighten up when I approached her, and she smiled faintly. I was very distressed to see her in so sad a condition. I was on the point of referring to the past, and begging her forgiveness, but the doctor drew me back, and motioned to me to be silent. My presence and attentions seemed to cause my aunt so much satisfaction, that the doctor expressed a strong wish, if I did all in my power to obtain my possible, that I should remain and nurse aunt's forgiveness, but in vain. The day her. I could sleep on the sofa in the after I was at Mrs. Huntly's, my ward-room. He feared that my services would robe, and every thing I possessed, were not be very long required. I was so very sent to me, but no letter or message; and glad to be of any comfort to my aunt, that though I wrote very often, I received I readily agreed to the proposition; then no reply. This was the only drawback I recollected about Josiah, and reminded to my happiness. Though Mr. Huntly's the doctor of the peculiar circumstances income was small, it was quite sufficient for every comfort. He was so thoughtfully kind: he bought Lucy's brother out of the army, and Lucy, poor girl, Mrs. Huntly took at once into her service, and she never left us till she went away to being as I had feared; he was certainly cold married many years afterwards. I had been married three months, and I had never even chanced to meet my aunt in my walks, but I heard of her from time to time from mutual friends. One day, intelligence was brought me that she was seriously ill-a paralytic seizure. In the greatest anxiety, I has in which I was placed. He promised me that I should have no annoyance or anxiety on that score. I was thus fully established as chief nurse. My first meeting with Josiah was not nearly so embarrass and distant in his manner, but he expressed himself very pleased that my aunt should have me with her; nevertheless, I heard afterwards, that the unfortunate butler who had admitted me was peremptorily dismissed. At the first, when my aunt was so ill and helpless, Josiah came very little into the sick-room; but as soon as she grew better, and began thoroughly to regain her consciousness and the use of her limbs, he was in and out of the room all day. On the plea that I should be over-fatigued, he wanted me to let the nurse sleep in the room. I would not consent to this; I said, that as my aunt was so accustomed to my nursing, I knew she would never like any body else with her. He was very reluctant to forego his proposal. The nurse slept in the boudoir, and I observed that she became far more active and attentive in the night than she had been during the worst of the illness. If I got up ever so softly to go to my aunt's bed, she was sure to be in the room; and more than that, the slightest movement always brought Josiah tapping at the door to know if we wanted any thing. My aunt was so pleased with Josiah's attentions, she would call out as loud as she could: "Thank you, Josiah; you go to bed; it's nothing, Josiah." I remember wanting to send a note home; there was no ink in my aunt's inkstand, so I asked the nurse to get some. She left the room, and Josiah presently came in with his own inkstand, and placed it before me. I wrote my note, which he undertook to send, and then he carried his inkstand off with him. Some how, I could never get any ink kept in my aunt's inkstand, and whenever I inquired for ink, Josiah was sure to come into the room. I soon discovered that every movement of mine was closely watched; but it was all done so cleverly and naturally, that I had not a word to say. One morning, Josiah was sitting in the room with my aunt and myself; I had been up several times in the night, and was in a sort of half-doze, when I heard my aunt address Josiah in a low tone: "She has been very good to me during my illness, giving up her time so entirely. You feel that, Josiah, don't you?" "I must do something for her," continued my aunt. "O aunt!" exclaimed Josiah, starting from his seat and coming to the bedside, "haven't I been always affectionate, and attentive, and dutiful? Did I marry against your commands? Did I spurn your kindness ?" "You have been very good, Josiah very good," replied my aunt. "I only want to do some little thing for her, because she has been so attentive during this illness." My pride was aroused, and but for fear of over-exciting my aunt, I should have declined any return for doing what was merely my duty. "I can't give her any money; I've sworn not," said my aunt, addressing Josiah. "You did swear it," he replied very deliberately; "Mr. Chapman was witness." "But there are the diamonds, Josiah." "The diamonds!" he exclaimed, raising his voice. "I could give the diamonds, Josiah." "What! your own diamonds, aunt," said he, " which you have always worn?” "They're not money, Josiah." "But she married out of the family. Your diamonds go to strangers?" I could not endure this. I begged my aunt to let Josiah have the diamonds. "She shall have the diamonds!" said my aunt peremptorily. "Go and get them, Josiah ;" and with some difficulty, she took off her neck the key of the drawer. Josiah, much to his discontent, was forced to obey: he went to the boudoir, and brought in the diamonds, which he placed on the bed. I was so dreadfully afraid of some scene taking place, which I knew would be very prejudicial to my aunt, that I was greatly relieved at the doctor being announced. "There," said my aunt, pushing the case towards me with great effort, "I said they should be yours the first day I bought them, if you were a good girl: you have been very good during this illness; take them; and do what you like with them." or even to modernize the setting, let me know. I will strive to scrape money together to give the full worth as they stand now." Poor Aunt Janet! she little knew what she was doing when she gave me those diamonds. The doctor was quite right; my services were not required very long; another seizure took place; and after lingering a few days, my aunt died. The whole of the property was left to Josiah, with the reservation that, if he died without children, the land was to go to my eldest son. Of course, we kept up no intercourse with Josiah; but I heard quite enough of his goings-on to show that I had formed a true estimate of his character. As soon as he came into his wealth, he began to lead a very wild and dissipated life. When I placed the diamonds in my husband's hands, I told him that Aunt Janet had given me the option of parting with them, which, if he thought advisable, I should be very happy to do, as I felt our circumstances would not permit of my wearing them. He would not listen to my proposal: he was not pressed for money, he said, and in a few years, I might be fully entitled to wear them. It Ah! my love, I am so glad that you are not going to marry a man on that horrid Stock Exchange! I am sure the dreadful anxiety I have undergone about Mr. Huntly. In those days, he was without the experience which he now possesses, and at a time when steady business was very dull, he took to speculating on his own account, and on behalf of others who were very cunning and plausible. seemed that he was successful at first, and I used to be quite surprised at his elation of spirits. One day he came home sadly downcast; he had had very heavy losses, chiefly through the villainy of a client, whose debts my husband was bound to make good. He feared it would be necessary for me to part with the diamonds. Of course, I was only too glad to think that we yet possessed the means of setting things to rights. According to my promise, I resolved at once to write to Josiah, and offer him the diamonds; and we agreed that I had better ascertain their value from an experienced jeweler, and so mention a sum in the letter. Taking Lucy as an escort, I went off the next morning to a very old-established jeweler's at the top of the Strand, where Mr. Huntly's family had dealt for many years. I gave the case into the hands of the chief partner of the firm, who happened to be in the shop, and asked him to give me some idea of the market-value of the stones. He made a very careful examination. "I suppose, ma'am," said he, "you are aware that these are not diamonds ?" I said, with great warmth, that they had belonged to an aunt of mine, that they were bought at -'s. "Excuse me, ma'am," he replied; "they could not have been sold for diamonds; but they are very perfect imitations; at first, I was deceived by them myself." "Why," I replied, in a state of the greatest excitement, "I was present, years ago, when they were bought -I know they are diamonds." "You have asked my opinion," said the jeweler kindly, "and I am very sorry to be obliged to undeceive you. The proof is very simple: I shall, if you will allow me, draw a file over one of these stones; if the stone remains uninjured, it is a diamond." "Do it!" said I with desperation; but, as I spoke, I felt the man was right. We were ruined-my husband compromised! Crash went the file the stone was starred! I looked for a moment, and fainted. When I came to myself, Lucy was attending to me. "Mr. Josiah," she whispered in my ear. "What?" said I, dreadfully confused. "He took them that night; I know he did." The shop-people were about us; I bade her be silent. We regained our coach, and returned home. I felt convinced that Josiah had changed the diamonds. Ah! me! it was very weary and sad waiting as that day dragged slowly on, and Mr. Huntly was so late. When he did come home, he was far calmer than I had expected. "Thank God," said he, "I know the worst of it- a thousand pounds will set things straight. You told me your aunt gave more than twelve hundred for the diamonds "But وو -" said I, in a perfect agony. "But what?" he exclaimed impatiently. "O Edward!" I replied, "the sooner I | period; and at the very last moment, the tell you the better. They are not dia- false stones are cleverly deposited in a monds: they are worth nothing!" place in which nineteen people out of twenty would never dream of looking for them. But all this supposition, urged Mr. Chapman, is worth nothing, unless we can get hold of Josiah's accomplice in the affair. I recounted the events of the morning. I shall never forget the end of that day; its utter hopelessness and despair; ay, and the bitter days that followed close upon it. How to raise that thousand pounds? Why, selling all we possessed, at the price things fetch at a sale, we knew would not realize one half; and then my husband would stand compromised for the rest, a defaulter, with his name posted up. I remember it was all so sad, that I felt I was almost doing wrong to smile at baby as he laughed and crowed in my arms. In the absence of direct proof, my husband thought it was hopeless to do any thing with regard to Josiah; but I was determined to have Mr. Chapman's advice in the matter. That gentleman received me very kindly. I found that Josiah had given him serious offense with regard to some pecuniary transaction arising out of my aunt's will. He was greatly astonished when I told him that the diamonds were false. He confessed that, on after-reflection, he had been very much puzzled by Lucy's persistence in her statement; but if he had entertained any suspicions against Josiah, it was of course nothing beyond the supposition, that Josiah, having asked the girl to meet him, and fearing the affair had been discovered, had endeavored to shift out of it as best he might. The false diamonds gave a totally new color to the transaction. The case would stand thus-Josiah might have fallen into extravagances before my aunt's death; indeed he, Mr. Chapman, had received pretty strong proof that such was the fact. Unwilling to confess his delinquencies, he had sought some other mode of extrication. Marriage with me would have given him the immediate command of money. That failed. Then the abstraction of the diamonds. He knew that my aunt would wear the diamonds on the night of the dinner-party; Lucy is asked to meet him at the end of the garden on that night; he takes care that she has the keys of the press left for a time in her hands; the diamonds are missing; suspicion naturally falls on Lucy. Ten days have elapsed between the party and the loss of the diamonds being discovered; the diamonds are altered during that Mr. Chapman very warmly pledged himself to assist me, though he could not hold out any strong hopes of success. "In the first place," said he, we must ascertain whether your aunt ever purchased diamonds or not." We found, on application, that the jeweler's books showed that certain diamond ornaments had been sold to my aunt at the price of thirteen hundred and seventy pounds. Moreover, the late foreman, an old man, who had since become a partner, was prepared to swear to their being diamonds. In order to ascertain Josiah's cognizance of the fraud, Mr. Chapman directed me to write to my cousin; and he sketched out a letter which stated that my circumstances obliged me to part with the diamonds; and according to my promise, I gave him the first offer at the price my aunt had originally paid. To my surprise, Josiah sent an answer almost by return of post. The letter was written in his usual hypocritical style: he deplored the necessity of my parting with the diamonds, but he was truly obliged to me for not forgetting his request. He believed that diamonds had lately risen in value; and he thought the fairest plan would be that the diamonds should be taken to his jewelers', and he would direct them to give me the highest market-price; my own jeweler had of course better be consulted. "He knows all about it," said Mr. Chapman, reading the letter, "or he would not have made such a proposal." "But," said I impatiently, "how will this avail us? The auctioneer is now in our house." "Have faith, madam," he replied; “I am acting under the advice of detective." a very clever He then directed me to write again to Josiah, and say that I had been advised that the most satisfactory mode of disposing of the diamonds would be by public competition. Josiah did not communicate with me |