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“My dear Lady Hester l—Mr. Lee!—you are come I hope intending to gratify my nearest wish '" These were his first words to those whom he addressed as they greeted him with the warmth of true friendship. “We are,” replied Arthur, unequivocally. “The ceremony can be afterwards performed by my grandfather when we all return to the lodge together.” “Ah! that will be a happy day indeed!” ejaculated Jane. “May we live to see it !” exclaimed Clinton. The Pirate responded an emphatic Amen, and then spoke with the turnkey at the door, who brought the priest back to the cell (for he had gone to take dinner), and the young lovers were soon united in the indissoluble bonds of hymen in that ill-omened place. As the priest was in the act of pronouncing the closing words of the ritual, a sudden gloom darkened the cell, and a peal of thunder reverberated awfully through the prison. Jane trembled. The Pirate was startled. The priest crossed himself. To make the adverse influences of the hour more impressive, the turnkey's raven lighted on the stone in which the outer window bars were fixed, and saluted the nerves of the bridal company with several loud croaks from her “hollow beak.” Lightning flashed vividly into the cell every minute; the thunder boomed, and burst, and rumbled, and rattled, with incessant violence ; then came down the rain as it might have done in the beginning of the great deluge– not in a pattering fall, but rushing, sweping, smoking, headlong from the heights of heaven to the pavement, and rebounding upwards from it with the violence of

the contact.

“The elements are more congenial with my fortunes at present than with yours,” moodily observed the Pirate to the brides and bridegrooms. “Joy is a brief prison guest. Nevertheless, may heaven bless your marriages with long years of peace and bliss'." A bright beam of sunlight shot into the cell, and suddenly exhilirated the spirits of the newly wedded. The rain ceased almost instantaneously. The raven flew off. The turnkey’s wife hung outside her parlour in the court a woodlark in a cage, which sung so rich and joyous a strain as nothing could excel. It was inexpressibly touching. Jane wept quietly as she listened. The Pirate looked toward the window with a softened eye and lip, wishing that the black idea now coiled up in his soul had never been admitted there, and longing for some wise teacher to lead him to the arms of his forsaken Maker. The Pastor occurred to him. Jame had often described his benignity, his excellence, and his skill in healing the wounds of the sorrow-stricken and the guilty. He would have him sent for. He would have his instructions though he was a Protestant. Perhaps they might bring him peace. He asked Mr. Lee to write and say that it was his earnest desire to see him. Mr. Lee replied that he had written to desire his grandfather to come, and that he had no doubt he was on the road. Clinton harkened to the bird's touching melody with all his “rapt soul sitting in his eyes.” “This is our hymeneal anthem, Hester,” said he. “Is it not an You, one Where is my pencil I must fix the feelings it creates in an impromptu verse or two.”

With gay rapidity he scratched down a few lines, and, carried away with the thrilling impulse of the moment, sang them to a low, old air, as the woodlark

ceased her measure:—
Sing on 1 sing on 1 sweet bird,
In thy captivity;
Some who thy song have heard
Are prisoners like thee.
They weep to hearthy strain,
Wooing them back again
To woodlands fresh and free,
Where thou, sweet bird should be.

Renew—renew thy lay!
O, bird of soaring wing !
Though thou immured must stay,
Yet do not cease to sing !
Thy voice is sunshine heard:
Flowers turned to sound ! Sweet bird
Sing! Full thoughts cannot meet
Outlet, save thy warblings sweet.

“That is all I could manufacture,” said the vocalist, breaking off his mellow tones. “The lead of my pencil broke as I was using it, and I am not clever enough to compose as I sing. Ah! the woodlark begins again.” The turnkey interrupted their enjoyment of its song, “I have news for you, Marquis,” said he.—“Your trial is put off for a week.” “This will enable our lawyer to prepare better for it,” said Clinton, with gladness. The lawyer was the same who had assisted the Pirate to obtain his inheritance; he was talented, as well as homest-minded, and was throwing the whole of his mental powers into the case. He had now gone to

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