and coat, took his ground, and put himself in a posture of defence.

The Count de Mesnil prepared for the combat more slowly. He certainly evinced no fear; but there were two or three slight traits that I remarked in his conduct, which induced me to believe that, either from the consciousness of having wronged his friend, or from feeling himself inferior in skill and dexterity, he advanced not to the encounter with the same confidence as that which appeared in the whole demeanour of Monsieur de Villardin. When the duke had first referred to the grave which we had dug the night before, and pointed it out with his hand, the eye of the young count strained eagerly upon it for a moment, and it was evident that the anticipations the sight naturally called up were felt bitterly. He was pale, too, and though he spoke firmly and calmly, I perceived that there was a difficulty in unfastening his cloak, and all the other little preparations, which spoke a mind intensely occupied with other thoughts. I observed, also, and it seemed somewhat strange, that he in no degree referred to the cause of his present hostile opposition to a man who had been so lately his friend; and indeed it seemed that the few short lines which Monsieur de Villardin had written had been quite sufficient to explain all, and to make him feel that amity was changed for ever into unquenchable hate between them.

At length all was prepared, and the swords of the two combatants crossed. After a few parades on either part, which served no purpose but to let each know the skill and peculiar mode of fencing of his adversary, the assault assumed a more serious character; but still it appeared that both wished to maintain the defensive, and I plainly saw that, more than once, the duke could have wounded or disarmed his opponent, had he thought fit.

In a short time, however, the Count de Mesnil, who was of a hasty and passionate disposition, and not so old a soldier as Monsieur de Villardin, became heated in the encounter, and pressed his antagonist hard, still keeping a wary hand and eye, but evidently becoming more and more vehement at each pass. At length, in a furious lunge, by not keeping his right foot quite straight, and probably more accustomed to the salle d'armes than the greensward, he slipped, and came upon his knee, perfectly at the mercy of his adversary. Monsieur de Villardin immediately dropped the point of his sword, and bade him rise.

"I do not take advantage of an accident, sir," he said.

The count rose, with downcast eyes and a burning cheek, and replied, after a moment's pause, "I cannot, of course, after this act of generosity, think—”

"If, sir," said Monsieur de Villardin, cutting him short, "you are contented to go forth into the world again, as one who bears the name of villain, and hypocrite, and scoundrel-and, I shall then add, coward-mount your horse and begone: if not, resume your place."

The count's eyes flashed, and the combat was instantly renewed, but this time with a different result. At the end of four or five passes, with a movement so rapid that I could scarcely see how it was effected, though it may be believed I was an eager spectator, Monsieur de Villardin parried a lunge of his adversary in such a manner as to leave the whole of the count's person open. He then lunged in return, and the next moment the Count de Mesnil was lying prostrate on the turf. At a sign from the duke, I threw the bridles of the horses over a low bough, and ran up to the spot. The fallen man by that time had raised himself upon one arm, and with the other hand seemed grasping at the blades of grass; but he spoke not, and his head drooping forward, concealed his countenance. "Shall I bring water?" I said; but, ere time was given for an answer, the strength which had enabled him to raise himself so far, passed away, and with a single groan he fell back upon the ground and expired.

We stood and gazed upon his still, pale countenance for several minutes; but it was very evident, from the first look, that his career was at an end; and, after a pause, the duke bent over him and opened his vest. Scarcely a drop of blood had flowed from the wound which caused his death, although from the direction it had taken, it seemed to me that it must have pierced his heart.

"It is over!" said Monsieur de Villardin--"it is over! Yet, put your hand upon his heart, my boy; see if it beats."

As I opened his shirt to do so, there dropped out a locket, which was suspended from his neck by a blue ribbon, and which contained a single lock of dark hair. As soon as he saw it, the duke caught it up, and unfastening the ribbon, gazed upon the hair for a moment or two, with an eager look. was certainly the colour, to a very shade, of that of Madame de Villardin; and I instantly saw that the demon had taken

It

I immediately obeyed, and bringing forward the clothes of the unhappy count, I aided in wrapping the body therein; and then taking the feet, while the duke raised the head, we bore the corpse to the grave that we had dug, and laid it there, without prayer or benediction. We next placed the hat and sword of the deceased in the earth along with him; and then, as fast as possible, filled up the pit with mould. Notwithstanding the quantity of earth I had removed the night before, there was still more than enough to fill up the grave to the level of the other ground, and I had four or five shovelsful more to carry down and cast into the river. When that was done, however, and the last spadeful had been disposed of, we laid the turf down again over the spot; and so carefully had it been removed, that, though the ground was a little raised, it required some examination to discover where the aperture had been made.

"A few showers of rain," said the duke, as he gazed upon "will remove every trace.

the grave,

I replied nothing, but I thought that the rain of many years would never remove the traces of that morning's work from his heart or from my memory. In regard to the ground, however, I entertained no apprehension of its ever being discovered. The young count himself, in tying his horse to that tree, when he came on his furtive and evil visit to the dwelling of his friend, had of course selected one of the most retired spots that

he could find; and it was only the accidental circumstance of my cutting across from the particular point of the high

road where I had left Monsieur de VilFardin on the way to Rennes, that had caused me to discover the charger in that situation. In that spot, too, the turf was short, and the grass anything but luxuriant; so that the shepherds were not likely to lead their flocks thither, at least till the year was more advanced, by which time all traces of the grave would be effaced. The only thing now to dispose of was the horse; and after examining the ground carefully, in order to ascertain that nothing of any kind had been dropped or forgotten, the duke

directed me to lead the animal some distance in the way to the count's own dwelling, and then turn him loose.

I did as he bade me, leaving Monsieur de Villardin to return to the castle alone; and taking the horse by the bridle, I brought it to the vicinity of the road which led to Mesnil Moray, at a spot about half a mile from the bridge which crosses the Vilaine. There I gave it the rein; and, though it had followed as quietly as possible up to that moment, no sooner did it find itself free, than it darted away as if it had suddenly become mad. It sprang at once over a fence, and crossed the high road, taking the direction of its lord's dwelling, without any regard to path. I climbed up a neighbouring bank to watch its course for an instant; and, to my surprise, saw it plunge into the river, and, after sinking down from the force with which it darted in, rise up again, swim the stream, spring up the bank, and gallóp away across the fields.

There was something awful in the sight; and I could not help thinking, as the noble horse bounded away, that there was a living witness of the bloody scene in which I had just taken part, that, could he find voice, would soon call the friends of his fallen lord to avenge his death.

NEW INVENTION-THE CART BEFORE THE HORSE.

In the month of May 1834, there was seen in the streets of Manheim a horse

pushing before him a carriage, guided with much address by Baron Drais, the author of this new invention, which is attended with great advantages: 1. the horse cannot run away; 2. the carriage rally thrown up by the horse; 3. the is not exposed to the dust and dirt geneprospect is not interrupted by the coachman and the horse; 4. the conversation of the travellers cannot be heard by the coachman; 5. the travellers are not incommoded by the fumes of the tobacco,

etc.

t

The coach-box will be placed on the roof of the carriage, behind, and by means of a looking-glass the driver is tion is applicable to carriages drawn by able to guide the vehicle. This invenfour horses. Baron Drais also exhibited his machine called Draisianne Velocipede,, greatly improved, which gave entire satisfaction.

No. 44.

"I am late," said the voice, "and doubt, keener than hunger, must have fixed his fang on your young heart: but I might not come earlier."

Ere Orlando could respire from his bewilderment, Lady Tracy had placed provisions on the table; and she had even stooped to kindle the fagots, ere starting from his trance, Lord Lovel sprang forward, and prevented her in that degrading office.

As the curling flame gleamed and brandished up the arched chimney, and the smoky wood hissed and crackled, Orlando arose from his stooping attitude, and beheld the mournful Hyacinth regarding him with an undefined expres sion, in which horror, grief, pity-he durst not think-love strangely strove together.

"You bring me evil tidings, lady?" "No tidings are evil to the innocent, or the desperate! You are neither, and

"Be satisfied, you are not! I am the most devotedly wretched ; but stay, you will need it :" and she poured out a goblet of wine which the young man, aghast, and hardly conscious of the act, swallowed hastily; then taking a sparing draught herself, she sate down, and motioned the Lord Lovel to a heavy peaked arm-chair opposite her.

"You are a homicide, my Lord!"
Orlando groaned,

"The man is dead whom your petronel struck."

"Alas!"

"Peace, peace! for yonder hurricane should be hushed as a summer noon to hear my words! That man was Sir Marmaduke Tracy-was my husband!"

The Lord of Lovel, if that moment an arrow had quivered in his bosom, could not have leapt from his seat with more convulsive agony than the last words of Lady Tracy inflicted.

Thus far in low, half-suffocated accents, the miserable Orlando gasped forth his horror; but here his voice swelled out in that tremendous ecstasy of grief, which scripture so pathetically calls an exceeding bitter cry,' "Oh! I have slain mine own soul!" and he dashed himself on the floor in a paroxysm of anguish, which he neither attempted to govern or conceal.

Lady Hyacinth sate silent, and apparently unmoved; for the light was behind her, and, while it flashed full on the writhing features and heaving limbs of Lovel, completely concealed any emotion her countenance might have betrayed; but the quivering vibration of the outline of her dress, thrown forward in strong relief from the lamp, declared sufficiently that her agitation was only less powerful than the effort which controlled it. She spoke in low broken tones, as if, unconscious of speech, she thought aloud.

"Poor youth! how strong is that sorrow! What, Hyacinth should be thine ? His wild deed was innocence, compared to thy wilder will! And yet I do not grieve, I cannot grieve. What hinders my tears from flowing like his? My groans from drowning his in their wilder agony? Is it horror?-is it -? Down, down, insulting fiend !—cease at least those hellish whispers; and if thou darest arise, accuse me to my face, and I will confront thee, and dash back the lie, black as superstition ever painted

thee!"

Lady Tracy rose from her chair, and turning full upon the light of the red and umbered fire, stood like some Amazon of old, challenging the adversary she dreaded, yet defied. Her brow was elevated, her cheek burnt, her lips trembled with energy--and the preternatural lustre of her eye-it was a fever to look on it!

Even Orlando paused in his passion, and for the moment, forgot his own remorse in the extraordinary expression and appalling excitement of the metamorphosed Hyacinth.

Rising from the disordered rushes, as if ashamed of his boyish exposure, he approached the poor distempered lady, and addressed her in accents of the most respectful commiseration ;- tears in despite of all his resolution rolling down his youthful cheeks, at every syllable he spoke.

"Oh lady!" he said, taking her passive hand in his, "What words are these?

let me not, overwhelmed with guilt as I feel myself, oh! let me not suffer the additional misery of having, by one rash act, destroyed life and unthroned reason! Hear me !" continued Lord Lovel, fallon his knees, "The crime is committed for which life, be it brief or long, will to my last hour be a burden! Take pity then, both on me and on yourself. Surrender me to my pursuers, they will relieve me of my abhorred existence; and you will have the satisfaction of having punished (the word will out!), the assassin of your husband!"

Motionless, breathless, stood the Lady of Wolfhamscote; all her passion was gone;-all its fierceness at least had vanished; and, as she looked down on the kneeling youth, the noble ingenuousness of whose grief needed not his suppliant posture, his generous sentiments, and his uncommon beauty, as auxiliaries

language must fail of depicting the angelic, no! the womanly charm of her enchanting aspect. She gazed, she hung upon Orlando's upturned features with fond admiration; but so chastised with grief, so softened by compassion, that a saint might have worn her look without a blush. At length, large heavy drops rained slowly from those intense eyes of light; and as she turned away her head, without releasing her hand, she spoke in broken hurried tones, panting and palpitating, as if every sentence was to be her last.

Spare me, my Lord! spare me! while I hear you I tremble; while I look on you I am mad; but not with hatred, but not from revenge! The past is past-duty would forbid my adding to bloodshed,-duty I say,—but no matter! your life will not recall his. Speak not! Have I not said I dare not hear you!"

The wretched Hyacinth spoke the last words almost in a scream; and extricating her hand, walked to the farther end of the room.

Lord Orlando arose, and stood respectfully apart, with the air of one resolved to take the slightest manifestation of her will for his law; and with the quick eye of female penetration, the Lady of Wolfhamscote observed this.

At length young Lovel again broke the silence.

"Since the Lady Tracy shuns to inflict the punishment my ingratitude has provoked, it rests with myself to relieve her of so hateful a presence. I will myself court the award of justice."

"You speak well, young Lord! your presence should be more hateful than

out alas! wherefore should you know? ay, wherefore should I own it to myself?-unhappy marksman,-that your aim was not so fatal to Sir Marmaduke's life, as your presence to his widow's honour!"

You know not-and

Lord Lovel looked absolutely aghast for some moments; but soon recollecting himself, answered with somewhat of melancholy pride in his deep faltering voice.

"A lady's honour was never perilled yet by Orlando Lovel !"

"I told you before, and I say it again," exclaimed Hyacinth, almost fiercely, "that if you stand and look and speak thus, I shall be mad! and oh! when I am mad, pity me Orlando; if I rave, pity me, Lord Lovel, for it is thy deed!" She sunk on a chair, and veiling her eyes with her white hand, concealed the flood of tears she shed, till her low soft sobbing betrayed them.

Orlando was now harrowed with the conviction that the lamentable lady's reason was shaken from its poise: once more he approached her, and placing his hand on the peaked back of the chair she occupied, once more he bent over her, and breathed softly the kindest and gentlest expressions of compunction and sympathy, in tones that trembled with honest emotion.

The Lady of Wolfhamscote listened with a shudder and a moan, but still she listened; while her bosom heaved, and her frame trembled, till her drapery shook as in a breeze. It was like evil spirits revelling in a temple.

A length she raised her stately head, and with assumed severity, she began

"When Lord Lovel deems he has seen sufficient of Hyacinth Tracy's weakness and folly, he will perhaps comply with her request, so natural in such circumstances, and forbear to make her sorrows more poignant by his vain words!"

With a piteous sigh, and an air of subdued dejection, poor Orlando withdrew his hand from the chair-back, and was quietly turning away; but Hyacinth's light grasp already trembled on his muscular arm, and with a sudden revulsion of feeling, she said,

Nay, nay! let me not be unjust; and thou, unhappy youth! compassionate one more wretched than thyself; I know, I ought to say, 'Go! and give life for life'-thine for my husband's—but I can only feel, why should thy young blood be poured glowing from thy veins, upon that which is already cold as the earth it hath discoloured ?"

The lady paused, conquered by wonderful effort her struggling emotion, and then resumed—

"You must perforce abide patiently here, till such time as I can find means of conveying you safely to the king's encampment at ; meanwhile, it is not for me to extenuate the deed which hath bereaved me; but, I cannot see your heart breaking with remorse, nor remind you that this wretched rashness was in some sort self defence; and that it was Ignorance which aimed at my poor husband. Farewell-I will myself see that you want nothing while you remain here; but, as the only satisfaction you can make, grant me this earnest request, that, whenever I visit this lair, you will neither let me see your face nor hear your voice!"

Thus the Lady of Wolfhamscote passed from the banquet-house, leaving Orlando to calm his excited feeling, and collect his scattered thoughts, as he best might, by the red and sullen embers of the decaying fire.

Several days passed away; and each found and left the luckless young nobleman in all that prostration of spirit so finely described in that chapter of terrors the twenty-eighth of Deuteronomy.

"The Lord shall give thee a trembling heart, and failing of eyes, and sorrow of mind; and thy life shall hang in doubt before thee; and thou shalt fear day and night, and shalt have none assurance of thy life in the morning thou shalt say Would God it were even,' and at even, thou shalt say, Would God it were morning!'"

4

This was no transient ebullition of remorse, but a deep abiding and corroding anguish, which acquired intensity from time.

The unaccountable demeanour of the Lady of Wolfhamscote, bitterly enhanced his self-reproach; since he, reasonably enough, attributed her extravagances to a brain unsettled by the ungrateful blow he had himself inflicted.

She visited him regularly every night, with provisions and fuel, invariably deposited her lamp on the landing, and departed as she came, in darkness and in silence.

What might this be but the freak of a disordered intellect? since, if the sight and speech of Orlando was so distressing to the lady herself, why did she not depute Bright, the house steward, who by her own account was in the secret of the purpose to which the banquet-house was applied?