as

declared attachment to Gertrude, was treated lightly by his artful adviser, and it was to devise means of obviating this, that they had left the society of the ladies soon after Maitland's introduction to their party, to hold this discussion in private; and had resolved as we have heard, upon the criminal scheme, formed in one hour, and to be executed in cold blood in the next. But the wicked do not always prosper even in this world. Upon leaving the arbour, Maitland and his accomplice retired to the room of the former in the academy, to prepare the forged letter and discuss their plans. I was not, of course, then aware of this, and as soon the bright vision of Miss Mary had vanished, I bent my steps toward the Campbells, hoping to encounter Maitland, and firmly resolved upon my course of conduct, viz., to represent to him the criminality of his intentions, to strive to work upon his better feelings, and thus turn him from his base design —if driven from this position, to appeal to his pride, thence to his principle, and if baffled in this, to declare to him my inflexible determination to show him up to public scorn, to blazon his treachery and falsehood to the world, and to take into my own hands the punishment of his perfidy. "L'homme propose, et Dieu dispose," and as these thoughts passed rapidly through my mind, I found myself opposite the Campbells' house, and Gertrude just issuing for a walk. I greeted her, and she asked me, with one of her sweet smiles, if I were going to pay them a visit, in which case she would return. I answered in the negative, and with some commonplace excuse, passed on. My object being only to ascertain if Maitland were there, and being satisfied by her going out that he was not, I felt that I had no time to lose yet I could not refrain from turning round and stopping a moment to contemplate the receding form of the pure and lovely creature, as buoyed up by that freshness of youthful confidence which has never learned a lesson of deceit, she tripped along unconscious of the net of misery which was even then weaving for her of the impending blow to be followed by that withering anguish which robs the cheek of its bloom, the eye of its lustre, and the step of its elasticity. As she turned an angle of the road and was lost to my view, I resumed my course with a sickening dis

:

gust-a bitter loathing of my species. I went next to the academy; Maitland had "just gone out in a chaise with a gentleman." Oh misery night had come-my anxiety forbade me to return home. I strolled into the woods to await the return of Maitland; I walked to and fro in indescribable agitation. More than an hour must have been thus passed, when my impatience prompted me to call again at the academy. Maitland had not returned; supper hour had passed; the prayer-bell had sounded and its echoes died away. I could endure my suspense no longer-my brain seemed on fire, and unable to conceal my agitation I asked hurriedly for Mr. the principal. He was in his room. was shown up. I entered, and the door closed behind me. My intimacy with Maitland was known to Mr. and the object of my visit suspected. He held out his hand to me, and, with a benevolent smile, said, “I suppose you have come to ask my condolence at the very sudden departure of your friend.” No human influence could have controlled the expression of my feelings, as listening to these words, my eyes fell upon the table and encountered the open letter purporting to come from Maitland's father.

"The base wretch!" I exclaimed-" the villain! and he has gone too!"

My agitation, my tone, my language were all a profound mystery to this good and confiding man. While he stood, struck dumb by my vehemence, I seized the letter, and holding it up to his astonished gaze, I whispered with feverish earnestness-" Henry Maitland wrote that letter this very afternoon!" My manner must have carried with it a positive conviction of my sincerity, as well as of my certainty of the fact I advanced. I strove to calm myself, and briefly related what had come within my knowledge-the untiring watchfulness I had used to avert the disgrace and misery which must follow such a crime. The worthy man seemed completely overwhelmed by this sudden and harrowing intelligence. He remained a long time in a state of absolute stupor. As soon as he had sufficiently recovered to speak, his first words were, as an honest tear rolled from his furrowed cheek, "Unhappy Gertrude !-Oh God, how inscrutable are thy ways!"

It must be borne in mind, that as yet I did not know, but only suspected, the cause of Maitland's faithlessness. I had

not seen the person with whom he was conversing in the arbour, and did not know that this person belonged to the party of ladies above alluded to. A little reflection would have suggested the probability of this fact; but, as may well be imagined, I had then but little power of reflection; all that had yet transpired had been, as it were, an eternity of excitement crowded into a few short hours, and all my thoughts had been directed towards the fearful effects that were impending, and towards the means of averting them: I gave little thought to the causes. Now the deed was done and past recall, and as reason, which had been completely shaken from its throne, regained possession of my mind, I at once associated the act with the beautiful girl whom I had seen at the hotel; a rapid review of the events of the last few hours confirmed me in this construction. Had she yet gone? Perhaps a part of the mischief might yet be prevented; at least she could be made aware of the perfidy of the villain who was seeking her! I suggested my thoughts to Mr. We immediately repaired to the hotel together. The party had gone three hours before. Did the same number of persons depart, as came, together? No. One gentleman had gone on alone! The mystery was solved: the doom of an angel was sealed! We returned to the academy: scarcely a word was spoken on the way.

I earnestly besought Mr. to be the bearer of this dreadful tale, this death-stroke, to the innocent, the forsaken! What a task! cannot now reflect upon it: I could not then. Reluctantly this disinterested man, this Christian, consented to call forth and to witness the first anguish of crushed hopes in the soul of this innocent, this saintly child-the first groans of a broken heart! I left him and slowly bent my steps toward my brother's house. The evening was beautiful beyond description. All nature appeared at rest. Mysterious and wonderful, that crime and suffering such as marked that hour, can exist in a world so beautiful! excitement had passed. My feelings, which had been strung to such a nervous and fearful height for the past six hours, had subsided into a calm, but poignant sorrow. My tears flowed freely. The quiet of the atmosphere seemed absolutely palpable; and even the very slightest noise seemed to tell of Ger

trude's anguish. I counted, half-consciously, my footsteps, and sought to picture the agonizing moment, perhaps at that instant arrived, when that blessed girl's cup of bliss should be dashed for ever from her lips! I reached home, and as I put my hand upon the latch, the village clock struck nine. Each stroke sounded like a death-knell. No bell succeeded; it was Saturday night! I retired to my room and slept, for nature was exhausted. My brain was filled with horrid visions, and I awoke feverish and unrefreshed. at once to leave N. my brother would not be surprised at my quitting him at any time, for my visit had already been extended much beyond my original intention and his expectation. At breakfast I wore as cheerful a face as I could command, and announced my determination to leave for London on Monday morning. I attended church with an humbled and chastened spirit. None of the Camp

I determined I knew that

bells were there. As the shades of evening closed in, I bent my steps, for the last time, toward the academy. Mr. received me in silence. Twenty-four hours had wrought a fearful change on his countenance: the traces of a sleepless night were distinctly visible. He had seen her, and she had learned the truth; more I dared not ask more he could not tell! Our parting words were few. I left him, and on the following Wednesday was in London. I took a room in an obscure hotel, and, after twelve hours of calm reflection (as calm as the subject permitted) and a night's rest, I wrote the following letter. I had no reason to doubt that he was in town and in pursuit of the brilliant Mary -; then the belle, par excellence, of London.

as I can find you-the consequences of which I am, of course, prepared to meet."

This was mailed on Thursday; and on Saturday, as I sat at breakfast, a servant, whom I had sent to the post-office, handed me a letter; the handwriting was unknown to me, and, hastening to my room, I broke the seal and read as follows:

"Sir-Your letter, addressed to Henry Maitland, came to hand yesterday. The causes which gave rise to the feelings expressed in that letter are familiar to me. I have to inform you that the object of your hate is no more! I am anxious for an interview with you, which is important to both parties. The deceased was my nephew. I will wait on you at any given time or place. Please address, through the post office. "MANUEL MAITLAND."

As soon as I recovered from my astonishment, I answered, appointing my own room as the place of meeting. At about six in the evening, a knock at my door announced the arrival of the expected visitor. I rose to meet him. He introduced himself, at the same time holding out his hand. I took it, and returned its pressure. He was a noblelooking man, apparently about fifty years of age. Our conversation was long and interesting. I shall only transcribe such part of it, in substance, as my readers are not already acquainted with. After communicating to him all that I knew of the particulars of his nephew's intimacy with Gertrude Campbell, and his conduct up to the fatal Saturday, he related to me the sequel, as detailed to him, by the guilty, but now penitent, companion of his nephew. Taking up the story where we left them, retiring from the arbour, they went immediately to Maitland's room. There this victim of passion wrote the letter we have alluded to, and forged his father's name. This he carried and showed to the principal of the academy, whose credulity was easily imposed on; but, in the agitation consequent on this guilty step, he had forgotten to secure the letter, and left it on his preceptor's table. He then wrote a hurried scrawl to Gertrude, declaring that he had received, in substance, such a letter from his father, requiring his immediate departure, and promising

soon to return. A small part of his effects were packed, and, with his accomplice, he left N- in a chaise. After having made an agreement to join the travelling party on the following morning, or late the same evening, at a village where they were to pass that night, and thus avoid the construction which his leaving in their company might suggest ;-and Maitland's companion, to prevent any suspicion of his real motive arising in the minds of his party, assigned as his reason for going on without them, that he had some business which obliged him to take a different route, and might possibly detain him some hours. All this sounded very simple and plausible to minds unprepared to suspect duplicity. He parted, as we have seen, and calling at the academy for Maitland, they proceeded on their journey. At twelve they reached the place of rendezvous; their party had not yet arrived, and, to beguile the time, or, rather to drive away the oppressive sense of guilt and shame, they called for wine-they drank, and drank again. Maitland, constitutionally excitable, and denied the habitual use of wine by the rules of the academy, felt his southern blood rush with delicious rapidity through his veins; it was a new sensation to him, and he revelled in the hitherto unknown delights of this deceitful and dangerous excitement. conscious of the quantity he poured down, he soon became perfectly delirious: he shouted the names of his father, of Gertrude Campbell: he threw his arms about the neck of his companion, calling him Mary and protesting, in the most extravagant and incoherent language, that he would "be faithful to her for ever!" Alarmed for the event, and momentarily expecting the arrival of the party, his companion strove to hurry him off to his room. With much difficulty, and no slight disturbance to the house, they succeeded in forcing Maitland, still raving, into the entry. They reached the stairs, but no power could induce the frantic boy to go up. With the strength of a giant he resisted, and swore that no one should compel him to go up against his will. In the midst of the struggle the sound of wheels was heard approaching the door; it reached his ears, but only to render him the more obstinate in refusing to conceal himself. The coach stopped at the door. The party alighted and

Un

entered the house. In a moment they were aware of the condition of Maitland, and he, on his part, now completely mad, burst from those who were striving to restrain him, and rushed towards the door. The first person he encountered was Mary - he sprang towards her, and before she could command her senses, wildly flung his arms about her neck, and clung to her with a desperation, of which, fortunately, the poor creature was not conscious, for she had immediately fainted. All this was the work of an instant-there was a rush to her rescue as his movement was perceived, and she was torn from him—a beautiful statue! While active efforts were making to restore her, three men were busied in conveying Maitland, by main force, to his room, where they locked the door upon him. He was heard to rave and curse a few minutes, by those listening without, and then to throw himself on the bed. Silence ensued. At dawn of day his companion crept to his room-door and knocked. No answer-again, and louder-still no answer. Thinking profound sleep a natural result of deep intoxication, he was in no degree alarmed at the quiet. He unlocked the door, (it had been locked on the outside to prevent Maitland's coming out)-what a spectacle !-a livid corpse! -the head turned to one side, the lips slightly separated, and a web of coagulated blood connecting them with the sheets-clots of gore, cold and black, thrown here and there in the last convulsive throws of the death-struggle, proclaimed that he must have expired soon after he was left: there was no sign of an outward wound, and it soon became evident that he had died from the bursting of a blood-vessel. The

result of an inquest held over the body was the report" died by the visitation of God;" and this is all that the world knew of the immediate or more remote causes of the calamity. How painfully instructive a spectacle for our contemplation but yesterday, an innocent boy-to-day, a corpse, (perhaps a murderer!) and the soul itself-extinct!

"And now," continued the uncle of the deceased, when the agitation produced by the harrowing recital had in some measure subsided, "let us forgive the dead and let us strive, for his poor father's sake, to guard with solemn secrecy the crime which led to his me

lancholy fate; let the report of the coroner be alone repeated to him; the se. cret of his guilt is confined to us three."

It is needless to say that I concurred fully and readily in the propriety of this suggestion, and that my feelings of enmity towards the unhappy wretch, whose career had been thus suddenly cut short, did not survive his death. I asked, however, and obtained permission, to communicate the facts in the case to Mr. the principal of the academy. This done, with a heavy heart, I prepared to return to my native city. While occupied with that most sad, yet, at times, most pleasant employment, packing, a knock at my door announced a visitor. It was an early and esteemed friend-yet one who had never known trouble. He had learned, casually, of my being in the city, and came to greet me. He was in full-dress, and in the height of spirits. After a few moments devoted to a revival of past scenes of pleasure, he arose to depart, excusing himself for his short visit. "I am a gay fellow," said he, in his nevervarying and merry tone, "and am now going to a splendid ball given by Mr. father of the celebrated beauty-heiress, and every thing else, Miss Mary ; you have surely heard of her!"

"Yes," replied I.

"But you are dull," resumed he; "at your old tricks, eh! Remember, care killed a cat! good night." And we parted.

Three months from this date, I divided my time very equally between the Continent and London. It was on my return last summer that I commenced the journey which revived the above-recorded recollections. I have described at length the feelings and incidents as they flitted through my mind ere I slept that night. During my day's journey, my thoughts had been engrossed with sorrows of a more recent date, and of a more personal nature: their channel was first diverted by the striking of the village clock, as the coach landed me at the tavern. Here, then, I was indeed in the identical village-the selfsame cottage was visible from my window as I lay in bed: those nine melancholy strokes had hardly ceased to echo on the night air-how vivid and complete was the association! I sunk into a troubled sleep. The sad story of Ger