And it is there, that, after the above-mentioned lapse,' we find our hero located. Should any captious reader inquire more closely as to his whereabouts, we can only reply, as we were wont to do in days long, long ago to the generality of geographical queries put by our respected High Master, It is an island, sir, in the Egean sea.'

Asgill was, of course, his 'compagnon du voyage;' indeed, with a rare and disinterested friendship, he had attached himself to the young baronet exclusively since the latter's accession to the family estates. Just at present, indeed, he was absent on a cruise among the islands; having left Macdonald, slowly recovering from fever, to make love among the myrtles with his host's fair daughter.

Tears, as we have said, or ought to have said, were dropping from the maiden's eyes. Macdonald held her hand clasped between his own, and in low tones, and very bad Greek, poured forth his prayer.

In his own country he had moved among the fairest of the land, with sense undazzled and heart untouched. The daughters of England were cold as their clime-the spell of Fashion was upon them all: their whole life was one war with nature; each nobler impulse of the heart was checked, each innocent desire quelled. Not a word nor deed, not a thought nor feeling flowed as the pure spirit prompted. They were enshackled utterly, hopelessly, in the webs of art and artifice. He had long since turned from such, to worship in silence and in secret some bright creation of his fancy, some shadowy vision of innocence and truth, whose mind and body, untainted by man, were fresh as from the hands of her Creator. And now all, all was realized: she-Irene, the idol of his imagination,-stood in her living loveliness before him! The fervour with which these, and sentiments akin to these, were uttered, amply compensated for any little inaccuracy in grammar and accent; they were, moreover, sufficiently novel to the young lady, who turned to her impassioned suitor with looks of love and trust These, however, were but transient gleams of brightness, and she quickly relapsed into an air of habitual gloom and mystery. What the silent sorrow was that lay so heavily on her, Macdonald in vain attempted to discover. Direct questioning upon the subject only served to induce deepened sadness and fresh tears; and, as yet, he was as far from any clue to its cause as ever. To his protestations of love she would reply, that it might not be; that Heaven had placed a bar between them, an insuperable bar. No fuller explanation would. she give, but said only, sadly and decidedly, 'that she might never be his bride.'

Days, weeks had passed by, and the eve of his departure was at hand. They were sitting, as we have described, among the remains of a pagan temple; broken marbles and prostrate walls were strewed around, half-hid by the rank and luxurious herbage. The arbutus and the mulberry-tree flourished in the deserted courts, and the declining sun poured its crimson flood on many a ruined column and rich sculpture. It was the hour and the spot to dream of long-forgotten days, to speak of the dead, and of by-gone deeds. Irene felt the magic of the scene: and he, her lover, would quit her on the morrow, and would think of her as one whose heart was cold and vain, unworthy alike his love and his remembrance! For the last time he besought her confidence. was then, at length, the maiden yielded, and with trembling lips consented to explain her conduct, and reveal the secret.

It

She said that in the olden time a maiden of her race had listened to

the vows of a stranger,—had listened and loved, and loved too well. Deeper and darker crimes succeeded, o'er which oblivion had happily cast a veil. At length, his passion sated, the stranger disappeared; leaving her, the partner and the victim of his guilt, to die. It was said, however, that, on discovering her lover's perjury, she had repaired to that very spot,-the ruined temple,-and, having there offered up fearful and forgotten sacrifices, had invoked the dethroned demons to aid her in her revenge. She added, that the accomplishment of this fell purpose, and the subsequent fate of the deceiver, were thus handed down in rude verse among the islanders; and the maiden sung, or rather chaunted, in a soft, low voice, the conclusion of the legend :

Irene continued.-That avenging spirit was still abroad-the curse still rested upon her father's house, and from that hour the maidens of her race had gone down maidens to the grave. No one ventured to unite himself with a family which numbered so awful a visitant among its numbers. One solitary exception had occurred, and the fate of him who dared the doom bore fearful witness to the continued influence of the avenger's power. Many had seen her-many now living. 'Nay,' added the maiden, drawing closer to her lover, and glancing hurriedly around, 'I myself have seen her twice: the first time was on the day your vessel touched our shore,-the last was yesternight. She passed between me and moonlight as I leant from my chamber lattice, and her looks were of menace and of warning.'

Loudly the young Englishman laughed at the tale; but, perceiving that Irene regarded his scepticism with displeasure, he plied her with arguments in a more tender strain. What was the avenging spirit to them? she could persecute but the false and the faithless! The true could defy her malice, though they might not propitiate her favour. And were they not true? Ay, even as they loved then, so would they continue to love till love and life were quenched together.

Suffice it to say, Macdonald's eloquence prevailed. Many were the tears and bitter the pangs; but, when his schooner quitted the isle, it bore a Grecian bride to the shores of merry England. As for Asgill, he remonstrated long and loudly on the madness of such a step; not, indeed, that he apprehended much danger of a visit from the ghost, who being, as he facetiously observed, a 'foreign spirit,' would experience considerable difficulty in passing the Custom-house,-still he gave a great deal of excellent advice, and used much incontrovertible logic, but in vain. He might as well have recommended amputation of pigtail to the representative of the house of Dibbs and Slowcock, or requested an alderman to have mercy on green fat!

Time passed, and passed very pleasantly, too, amid the groves of Brockton. Shut up from the world, its follies and its uncharitableness, Macdonald and his bride drank long, deep draughts of happiness. It must have been a churlish heart indeed that had not rejoiced to overflowing in the love of so pure and so gentle a being as Irene. Autumn, winter flitted by, and Macdonald had scarcely quitted the side of his fair Greek; but it is not to be denied that of late symptoms of restlessness and ennui had begun to exhibit themselves. Spite of himself, visions of the pleasures and gaieties of other days would occasionally pass across his mind; and, though he at once dismissed them as one who had bidden farewell to the false and sophisticated delights of society, still they were intruding each day more forcibly and more frequently. At length business called him-on previous occasions he had bidden it call again,' but now the summons must be obeyed. He kissed the cheek of his bride, and assuring her that his absence was unavoidable, and that his return should be speedy, set forth in an evil hour for London.

He did return; but, spite of the flowers and the freshness of the

spring-time, spite of the bright smiles of his Irene, Brockton had now lost much of its enchantment. The country at this time of the year was really so dull; besides, he owed it to himself not to remain altogether buried in obscurity. His love, of course, was true as ever; but-again business summoned him to London. This was a longer visit it was repeated. Irene bore all without a murmur; not a look of reproach, not a word of sorrow escaped her and if in her dreary solitude fancy sometimes bore her back to her own sunny skies, and waving forests, and happy home, her love was fixed and firm as in the day she quitted all for him; and the tide of her memory would turn, and she would think of her husband, and long-oh! how intensely! how painfully!--for his return.

But other subjects occupied Macdonald; he thought not of her. Under the agreeable guidance of Mr. Asgill he pursued pleasure in her worst and wildest forms; his time was spent in scenes where delirium occupies the chambers of the brain, and thought is banished.

It was after an absence of unusual length, and with the traces of prolonged and burning excitement fresh upon his brow, that he again entered his neglected mansion. Irene came not forth, as of old, to meet him; she was ill-not alarmingly-weak merely. In an instant the truth rushed deadly cold to his heart; and as he looked upon that fading being, and felt himself the guilty thing he was, there was a woe and an agony within that bowed him, spirit and body, to the dust.

Physicians were called in-soft, pleasantly-spoken gentlemen in sad-coloured suits and fine linen, who in their mild tones recommended warm-baths, and cold-baths, and vapour-baths, and salt-waterbaths, just as they would have prescribed dancing upon the tight-rope, had it happened to be the remedy in fashion. Before Macdonald they deprecated the idea of danger, thought the lady might possibly continue an invalid for some time, and especially enjoined rest and quiet. To all this the guilty husband gave eager credence; and it was a potent drug to his remorse, an opiate to his conscience. Again the tempter was at hand, and again he left the drooping flower to the tending of strangers.

It were vain, and profitless, and sad to dwell upon the closing scene. A casual glance may mark the outward tokens of a breaking heart as they hover round the sunken eye, and the hollow cheek, and the languid form; but that slow chilling of the affections, that dying of the desires, and quenching of hope, that does the deadly work within, pass the power of man to picture or conceive.

Macdonald, meanwhile, sped lightly and pleasantly on there was nothing very remarkable in his career; he drank a great deal of wine, lost a great deal of money, made a great deal of love, and, of course, experienced a great deal of happiness.

One night, or rather morning,-it was after the breaking up of a petit souper at the mansion of a certain Italian countess,-Sir Archibald, an especially favoured guest, was sitting tête-à-tête with his brilliant hostess; he was pleading his cause earnestly, and with every probability of success. The fair dame, who (or report belied her) was neither ice nor alabaster, even admitted a sentiment' in his favour,a pure and tender feeling, of course, by no means induced or influenced by the presentation of sundry articles of jewellery and the like. Still she had her scruples;-men were so unpleasantly fickle, he would soon abandon her, soon forget her love in the society of his charming Greek.

'Never-never! by Heaven!' exclaimed Macdonald.

The words had hardly passed his lips when he started to his feet, grasped the lady's wrist with one hand so tightly as to make her shriek with pain, and with the other motioned towards the open folding-door, which disclosed a spacious room beyond. This apartment was illumined by a brilliant lamp, placed on a table immediately opposite them; and, as the affrighted countess gazed in the direction pointed out by her lover, the light appeared for one moment obscured, or rather dimmed, as by the intervention of some passing shadow; no form, however, was visible. The eclipse, partial as it was, lasted but for a single instant: the next, the flame burnt bright again as ever.

Eternal powers! what is this?' exclaimed the baronet. Heaven! can it be

'Just

He paused his jaws became rigid; but his whole frame shook like a wintry leaf. Recovering himself with a sudden effort, he sprang forward, dashed through the folding-door, and disappeared in the adjoining apartment. On his return he seemed as one struck with a fearful fit; every trace of colour had fled from his heretofore flushed brow, and his whole countenance exhibited the distortion, without the stillness, of death; sense and strength forsook him together.

'Woman! woman!' he muttered, 'you have undone me!' and sank helpless upon the sofa.

The lady, in amazement, not unmixed with alarm, summoned her domestics. She could not think of detaining an invalid gentleman at her house. With their assistance, therefore, Sir Archibald was conveyed to his own. On the following day the death of his wife was announced to him by express.

'Well, Gibson,' inquired Mr. Asgill cheerfully, 'how is your master this fine morning?'

'Better, sir; more collected and tranquil than he has been since his attack. I would not, sir,' the man added, 'for money's worth pass through such scenes again as I have endured this last fortnight.'

'Ah! indeed! I understand he raves a good deal at times;-an unpleasant habit,—very.'

-If it be raving,' returned the valet with a shake of his head. 'But he seems, sir, to imagine the constant presence of a something, or somebody; and, though we at his bidding leave him, I doubt if he ever be alone.'

4

And whom, or what, in the profundity of your wisdom, do you take to be his companion?' sneered Asgill.

Can't say, sir,' replied Mr. Gibson with unaltered gravity; 'but master says it has got a knife, and a wreath of cypress.'

Asgill threw a quick, searching glance at the speaker, but replied not a word.

'I'll just step up and see him for a second,' he observed at length, and ascended the stair accordingly.

A few minutes elapsed, and the visiter re-appeared.

Gibson, you may call up my cab.'

'Yes, sir.'

'And then you had better look to your master.

He has managed

to hang himself in some odd way with the bed-curtains.'

Hang himself!' exclaimed the servant.

'Hang himself,' repeated Mr. Asgill with a nd, buttoning on his canary-coloured glove. He is quite dead and cold by this time, I dare say-Good morning to you, Gibson I'