she still persisted in denying that anything ailed her, her mother saw that the arrow had entered into her heart. The heir of Dungarvon was married; and now, all hope being over, Fanga entered with rancorous malignity into Joyce's plans, and agreed to strain every faculty of her soul in the endeavour to make the inconstant Fitzhannon and his innocent wife suffer for the misery he had inflicted on them. Joyce, who had agreed to be the chief actor in these dark plots, found his task at first more difficult than he had fancied it. He could not obtain the bride's confidence; like her daughter, she generally turned away whenever he attempted to approach her. He lowered his voice to a tone of the deepest respect and humility, took every opportunity to throw himself in her way; but she disliked him, and would not meet his endeavours to gain her favour. With her husband, she was gay and playful; and, although their pursuits were different, their opinions appeared in unison. Fitzhannon confided in her, and gave her unlimited power over everything. There was only one point on which they differed; he

would not consent to part with his steward. In vain, she hinted her fears that he was not what he appeared, that he was too obsequious to be sincere; Fitzhannon chid her for her suspicions, and continued to favour him as much as before.

Joyce heard not Lady Dungarvon's repeated representations to her husband against himself, but he felt that one so shrewd and penetrating as Lady Fitzhannon, would be very likely to ruin him in her lord's estimation, unless he should prevent her by some bold and speedy act. Contriving, therefore, to obtain duplicates of all her keys, he made himself master of the contents of her writing-desk. Unhappily, Olivia had kept a packet of letters from her former lover, Mr. Valmour. It appeared evident from these letters that an engagement had once existed between them,—that a correspondence had been carried on without the knowledge of Lord Dalm. The truth was, that at the period when Valmour first paid his addresses to her, there was no probability of his attaining the dukedom, to which a succession of early deaths afterwards raised him; and he had an elder

brother, on whom had devolved the family estate. Lord Dalm had, therefore, refused his sanction to their attachment, Joyce read over these letters with the most careful attention, and finally made choice of the one to which we have formerly alluded, wherein Valmour, in a strain of deep and wounded feeling, reminded Olivia of his long attachment, of his prior claims to her love, and entreated her no longer to deliberate, but to elope with him that very night the envelope was directed to her maid, Rebecca Joyce. This was the last effort made by Valmour to deter his beloved from marrying Fitzhannon; and on this, Joyce determined to work the ruin of his master's bride.

Dungarvon was at this time peculiarly susceptible of any impression. His father had lately died, and, in addition to the numerous calls upon his attention, in order to arrange the affairs which he had left somewhat perplexed, the Earl was solicited by his friends in London to join the administration then forming. His health suffered from this constant pressure on his mind, and Joyce could hardly have found

a more fit moment to instil doubts and suspicions of his wife. Tenacious to excess of his honour in all things, a whisper against it would have been enough at any time to arouse him to revenge it; and as he had, before his marriage, fancied that he had cause to doubt the affection of Olivia, there now required but slender proofs to confirm him in the truth of his suspicions.

It was some little time before Joyce could turn the letter which he had secreted to account, for the Duke of Gaston had never seen Lady Dungarvon since her marriage, except in public, and he had not yet visited his estate of Gunnersdown.

More than three years had passed since the marriage, when, one evening, Joyce saw two figures walking together in one of the most beautiful, but least frequented, parts of the park. They were engaged in earnest conversation, and the steward hid himself behind a bush by which they were passing. It was the Duke of Gaston and Lady Dungarvon, but their praises of the Earl grated harshly on his ear. From this time, the Duke was a frequent visiter at the Abbey ;

he resided for some months constantly on his estate at Gunnersdown, and placed his little son under the care of Dr. Bratton. We may here mention that Rebecca, the favourite waitingwoman of the Countess, was no less pleased than her mistress to see that the Duke was likely to be much in their neighbourhood, for she had long been engaged to his steward Jackstone, between whom and Joyce a determined enmity existed.

Soon did the villanous steward, aided by Fanga, begin to whisper poisonous insinuations against the fair fame of the Countess. It was a theme to which all were eager to listen, and by degrees it was pretty broadly hinted that Lady Dungarvon had very good reasons for preferring to remain at the Abbey while her lord was absent attending his duties in London. The husband was one of the last who became aware of the reports so freely circulated; but even he began at length to perceive that he was the object of the remarks of his country neighbours. Whenever he appeared in company with the Duke, he saw with astonishment the smile and

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