some other person a good-night. Iadvanced, and to make sure of my aim, came close to the horseman who approached. But then seeing it was sir Philip Mason, I hesitated. He saw me with a pistol in my hand, spurred forward his horse, and caught it by the barrel. A struggle ensued, in which he wrenched it from me, fired, and shot me in the side. The wound took away from me all power of escaping; and your cousin coming up, I was carried to the house of sir Philip, who sent for a surgeon to examine the injury I had re'ceived. For some reason your cousin went away, and shortly after the baronet came into my room, and began questioning me about my motives, when he was interrupted by a servant, who gave him a letter. Whatever were its contents, it had a terrible effect on him; he staggered, turned pale, and striking his hand against his forehead, rushed out of the room, leaving the door open. I instantly took advantage of his negligence, and escaping

from

from the house, crept feebly from street to street till I reached my own dwelling; and there, fearing that pursuit would be immediately instituted, I made Biancha pack up such things as were necessary, and getting down to the shore, had myself instantly rowed to the cave which we had secured for our retreat. Above this cave was a villa, which had not been inhabited for some time, and from the one to the other there is a path by steps down the cliff; and in one of the balconies of the house is a door, made, no doubt, for the purpose of descending to the cave, which is a cool and pleasant place in the summer, and commands a fine view of the bay. This door, which is perfectly evident in the balcony, is superficially hidden in the inside of the villa by a gilt moulding, and shuts with a spring.

"The exertions I had made to effect my escape inflamed my wound to a dreadful degree, and threw me into a violent fever. Biancha, ill as I had used her, watched

watched me night and day, with a kindness that I feel here," and he laid his hand on his heart." But after several days, becoming quite exhausted, she one night fell asleep; and during the time that she was so, I rose from my bed, half sleeping, half delirious, and climbing up the cliff, entered the villa by the door in the balcony, with which I had before made myself acquainted. I strayed, I believe, lord Burton, into your apartments. You took me, no doubt, for the shadow of one long, as you thought, with the dead. The noise you made calling for lights first brought me to myself, and I hurried to get away; but in doing so, scarcely thinking what I was about, I snatched up a paper that you had been reading. Just as I got to the door, some one advanced with a light, but wind from the door which I had left open blew it out, and by that means I had an opportunity of escaping into the balcony unobserved. When I got to the cave, I found that in some part of my wandering

I had torn open my wound, which bled profusely; and I believe it was that which saved my life, for from that time my fever ceased, my wound gradually healed, and I recovered. With the loss of blood I was considerably weakened, and thoughts began to obtrude themselves which I had never before suffered to disturb me. I began to reflect on the weight of crime for which I had to answer, and the first efforts of repentance began to struggle with habitual vice. I asked myself whether I might not even yet retrieve. But whither could I look for succour? who would hold out a helping hand to such a wretch as I was?

"I have said that I snatched up a paper you had been reading. On my return to the cave I threw it down, and never thought of it after, till the day I left my concealment to go back to Naples, when seeing it laying on the ground, I took it up to read, when what was my astonishment, to behold the handwriting of my

father!

father! It was a sketch of all the sorrows he had endured, and a detail of all the benefits with which you had loaded him. Yes, lord Burton, that old man whose latter days you protected and comforted, was my father. Judge what were my feelings, when I found that the man I had persecuted and made wretched, had been the only support and friend of the parent I had deserted! But still more, when I saw the last wavering lines which announced to you, that before you received that letter he would be no more! It was then, lord Burton, that I felt that my heart was not utterly hardened; it was then also that my hopes and expectations turned towards the man of all others I had most tried to injure-to yourself. I knew your character well, and so convinced was I that you would not cast me from you, if you were sure of my contrition, that when I found that you and the baron de S had quitted Naples together,