her from the carriage, and saying he wished to speak to her, led her into the drawing-room.

"What is this mighty matter, that makes you look so perplexed and hesitate so long? Make haste, Robert will expect me."

"I am perplexed how to tell you, and yet I would rather' you should hear it from me than from another. I knew it myself but half an hour since, and could scarcely believe it. I doubt if you will ever credit it; but I may as well out with it at once. Dormer, to my great surprise, has proposed to Catharine; and she, to my still greater wonder, has accepted him!"

แ

Is that all?" said Helen, smiling. "Why, a half-wit might have guessed both occurrences were in train before I left town."

"You amaze me! I always thought them bitter enemies, and believed Catharine detested him."

"So she seemed, to those who looked not beyond the surface. And what should you know of a woman's heart? She would have died rather than revealed her secret; but having established the belief of her dislike to the world, she could then afford to show more courtesy to him; and there was a glory to his proud spirit in conquering her fancied enmity. Of late too, I believe, he has gone to her to sooth his regret. They have my best wishes for their happiness; and I can but hope," she added, more gravely, "that the late event may not prove a useless warning. I believe he deplores it even more bitterly than is imagined." "There is, indeed, no reading women's hearts" said Alford, half pleased at her not being surprised or distressed-half piqued at his own want of penetration. "Why I should not wonder if you denied next what every body believed concerning yourself?"

"Nor I neither," she said, with a smile and a sigh; "but I must go now, or Robert will miss me. Say more than is kind to Catharine for me, and all that is proper to Mr. Dormer."

She was so much engaged in thought as she entered her cousin's room, that she never had looked up till she had nearly reached the centre, and then to her surprise-and we may add her dismay-she found herself opposite to Lord Fitzallan, who was seated close to the couch on which her cousin was reclining. It was the first time they had met since her haughty refusal. And how were they to meet now? As common acquaintance, as she had desired; or perfect stran

gers, as he had promised? His confusion was little less than her's, for he felt she might consider this visit as an intrusion; and thus, after the first look of surprise, neither ventured to glance at the other.

66 Helen," ," said the low voice of the invalid, who had heard her step, though from his position he could not see her; "you must not quarrel with Fitzallan or me for his visit; he only entered at my peremptory command, that I might thank him for his kindness before you came, and his constant inquiries since; so you must accord his forgiveness."

Thus called upon, she rallied, and ventured upon a bow, though uncertain how it might be returned, as she said, in a tolerably steady voice, "I have before heard of Lord Fitzallan's kindness."

"And you must thank him for it too, Helen."

Helen coloured deeply. Though scarcely venturing to look up, she had been aware her bow had been returned, if not with warmth yet with respect; but to presume to thank him, whom she had wronged so much, she felt might be urging his politeness too far. He perceived her embarrassment, and relieved her from it; but in a way which showed he considered her reluctance to thank to arise from dislike and displeasure.

"I will not have Miss St. Maur teased to pay thanks for what deserves none: or if it did, for which you alone are answerable."

"Well, if you will not allow her to thank you, she shall at least congratulate you. You were always a great favourite of hers. Congratulate him prettily, for yourself and me, on his approaching marriage with Miss Dunotter."

Both started and changed colour, and Helen-almost sinking to the earth-could scarcely command herself suffi ciently to say with any thing like composure:

"Lord Fitzallan will believe we both wish him every happiness."

She stopped to pick up something as she spoke, and before more could be said, the surgeons entered the room. Our heroine bowed to Fitzallan, without looking up, and they left the apartment by different doors.

The ball had been extracted, and the fever subdued; but the extreme weakness of the patient rendered his recovery very doubtful. Each day confirmed the fears of his friends and in one short week after this interview, Robert Euston had breathed his last, without a struggle, his head resting on

Helen's arm, one hand clasped in her's, and his last looks alternately bent on her or raised to heaven. One of his latest acts was again to implore her forgiveness for his former violence; and so far had better feelings conquered his jealousy and the selfishness of his love, that he had sincerely prayed for her happy union with one deserving of her.

Thus fell the young, the handsome, and the gay—in the spring of youth, with health, spirits, and temperament to enjoy and to delight! Thus perished the talented, the noble and the generous! the victim of his own undisciplined ternper, and the uncontrolled passions of another! He had raised his arm against the life of a fellow creature, and he had tempted another to do the same; he had heeded not the command-"Thou shalt do no murder;" and he had been called to the presence of his Maker, to answer for the deed; but, in mercy, time had been given for penitence and prayer. Let us hope both were accepted.

His will, made the day after the meeting, was in accordance with the rest of his conduct. In it he took upon himself the blame of the duel, and, as a mark of friendly feeling, bequeathed to Mr. Dormer a valuable picture of which he had become the purchaser a short time before solely to annoy that gentleman, who had desired it. Horses, carriages, dogs, and some other things were left to Alford and Fitzallan, in gratitude for their attention. Some old servants were remembered, and then the rest of his property was bequeathed to his cousin, to be left by her, after her death, to any one of her children she might choose. The bequeather never reckoned on the contingency of her dying unmarried, or childless!

CHAPTER XIII.

"I've seen thee in the sunset beams;
I've lov'd thee as a thing divine.

How have I shunn'd thee? but thine eye
Hangs o'er me, like a watching sphere,
Star of my solitary sky.

Where'er my spirit turns, 'tis there;
For life, for death, the chain is twin'd;
Thou'rt in my mind, thou'rt in my mind."

CROLY.

"The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene,
Had blended with the lights of eve,
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve.

She listen'd with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes, and modest grace,
And she forgave me that I gaz'd

Too fondly on her face."

WE will pass over our heroine's grief for the loss of her cousin, which was deep and sincere. Nothwithstanding his faults, and the fears and pain he had so frequently caused her, she had never ceased to love him as a sister, and now she felt lonely, for the accents of love were displeasing to her, and she had no near relation. But one so young, so rich, so lovely, and so good, could not long feel desolate; it is only the poor that know the misery of loneliness! All vied in kindness and attentions, and Helen was not one to despise the blessings she possessed, and deliberately indulge in murmur, because one was wanting. True, the paper was taken up in haste, opened with a trembling hand, a small space in the last page glanced hurriedly over, and laid down with a relieved and brighter look; but the malicious say, that is the part of the paper to which all young ladies look.

The wedding of Mr. Dormer and Lady Catharine Alford had taken place, and the papers were filled with a long description of its guests, the splendour of the arrangements, the beauty, elegance, and accomplishments of the bride, and the departure of the happy pair for Paris. There are some who

delight in censure, and these said Mr. Dormer was more haughty than ever, and that a humbler and sadder demeanour after the late event, would have suited him better; but Mr. Dormer was not one to bare his breast to the crowd, and if Lady Catharine shared in the blame, to her might the same remark be applied. There was enough in former circumstances, setting aside the duel, to prevent such a character as Lady Catharine, from being perfectly frank to our heroine; though she no longer regarded her with envy, or ill will; but there was one expression in her letter, just before the wedding, that pained and surprised her friend. It was this: "May you be happy, Helen, for you deserve it; but they who brave the tempest, must abide the shock."

That Lord Fitzallan's marriage was still an accredited report, and that the delay was attributed to the entanglement of his affairs from the extravagance of his uncle, Helen knew, but she knew no more; for either lest his name should awaken the remembrance of her cousin, or some other cause, he was never mentioned by the Alymers.

"Here is Helen coming down the path," said Caroline to her husband. "How I wish I could see her step as light and buoyant as of old! There is now the quietude of thought or the melancholy of sadness ever mingled with her sweetness and former playfulness; but I will let her in myself, lest the presence of an unexpected guest should startle her;" and, without giving time for a remark, she left the room.

But the kind purpose was foiled, for, seeing Mr. Alymer at the window, Helen turned towards it, and before she could have imagined such a mischance, was standing face to face, at an abrupt angle in the path, with Lord Fitzallan, who, to avoid a meeting, had just left the drawing-room, by a door opening on the lawn. Surprised, distressed, Helen's eyes sought the ground, and she stood for some moments in silent agitation. Had she ventured to look up, she might have seen almost equal agitation, mingled with some other feeling which might not have displeased her: but, as she neither returned his bow nor answered his good morning, which she had not seen nor heard, Fitzallan, of course, concluded she retained her determination to meet as any thing, rather than friends, and his conduct took the colouring from this idea. The path was too narrow to allow of their passing conveniently; to turn his back upon her, and retire without speaking, was a rudeness-piqued as he was, and coquette as he had reason to believe her-that he could not commit; to address her, therefore, with cold respect, was all which was left him.