door of the saloon was heard to open. The face of the Prince brightened-it was Orleans returned; the eye of Ippolita sparkled, for in imagination she beheld Alphonse. The echo of a footstep followed the noise of the opening door; it advanced a few paces, then paused, and there was a dead silence. The guests looked at each other, as though asking what such strange behaviour meant. One of the Prince's gentlemen, catching the disturbed glance of the Duchess, arose, passed behind the screen, and returned, half leading, half dragging, a man in mean attire. His age might be eight and twenty; the face was haggard, care-worn, and distressed; his gaze wild and fearful; his eyes drooped beneath the strong light.

"A guest! but, I cannot announce him, for I know not the name," said the gentleman, smiling, as, in affected imitation of usher, or seigneur-in-waiting, he bent before the Duchess.

The Prince arose in surprise, the ladies and her Royal Highness in undisguised alarm, which, in the illustrious hostess, changed to dismay when she beheld Gaston's mantle. Before, however, the Duchess could articulate her fears, the opposite door of the apartment was flung open, and the Duke, with his suite, rushed in; on seeing whom, the strange visitor dropped on his knees.

"Away with him to the court-yard!" cried De Rochefort; "if he stays a moment longer we must strew incense, and undergo purification."

The fugitive, who comprehended the fierce tone, though not the words of the Count, crept to the Duchess's feet for protection, with mute gestures imploring compassion. Her Royal Highness, recovering from fright, moved by the suppliant's appeal, made intercession in his favour, requesting to know who he was, and the reason of his abrupt entry.

"Who is he?" re-echoed the boisterous Gaston. "Everything by turns a fox, a squirrel, a monkey, a hare, —just as it suits the purpose, though," added the speaker, eyeing the shivering, awe-struck wretch, "there is nothing of the wolf or boar in him; but, for all that, our cousin must acknowledge him the tenth mantle, worth ten thousand crowns!"

The slightest possible shade overspread the countenance of Condé, but gave place to a grave smile. The Bourbon was too high-spirited to betray vexation, and merely remarked that he yielded the point, although Monsieur-their new guest-still retained the garment.

Why, this is mine!" replied the Duke, re-possessing himself of the mantle; "De Rochefort has the entire number safe in the porter's lodge, where our cousin may count them as he passes; but I see you all anxious to know why we brought the man as well as the mantle. De Rochefort must tell the story, for I am out of breath."

So saying, Gaston flung himself into a seat, joining chorus in the laughter which the vivacious narrative of the Count elicited. When De Rochefort concluded, all eyes where turned on the stranger, who stood shivering near the fire, looking inquisitively at each member of the brilliant assembly, as though he only imperfectly comprehended the discourse.

"He must depart with a whole skin," said Condé ; " he has wellearned immunity-'tis good forest-law."

"He is under my protection," observed the Duchess; "but the poor man is sick,-see, how pale he looks!" and Madame glanced at

VOL. XVII.

L L

a side-table whereon stood refreshments; which De Voisin perceiving, handed the stranger a goblet of Burgundy, and a huge slice of cake, which vanished speedily before the ravenous, wolf-like appetite of the unknown. The Duchess, amused, glanced again at Alphonse, and the poor wretch was a second time supplied from the side-table; and the viands were as quickly despatched as before.

Ventre St. Gris!" exclaimed Gaston, starting up; "this is holding out a premium for the canaille to commit robbery.-Hark ye! sirrah! your quittance is like to prove too easy; ere we render your cloak, we must know your history. What induced you to seize my mantle ?"

The man replied in language made up of Italian and broken French, that he could not account for the impulse which led to retaliation on so mighty a seigneur; he was no robber, although he had fled with the prize. The fancy was irresistible,-it came into his head, perhaps, as he had practised like feats on the stage.

"Ah! a comedian," remarked the Duchess; "he has better excuse for sudden fancies than one whom I need not name!” and the lady glanced at her liege-lord, who bore the reproof bravely, though his associates rather slunk from the gaze. Then addressing the stranger in Italian, she bade him continue his narration in that language, which they understood. The soft tones of the lingua Toscana, uttered by a sweet voice, fell soothingly on his ear; tears came to his eyes, as he thanked her for the permission, for he was bewildered and sick-he had fasted since morning.

Corpo di Bacco!" shouted Gaston; "fasted since morn, say you? and take such leaps! I must try the system on the staghounds. But it grows late, and we have had a hard run; the signor shall go free, with a few crowns to boot, when he has told us his name, birthplace, and what led him into France."

My name," said the Italian, "is Giacomo, and I was born at-" "Stay! stay! Signor," cried De Rochefort, "thy history, like thy feet, travels somewhat of the quickest. Hast no other name, Signor

Giacomo?"

"My master called me Il Gnocco Giacomo," replied the stranger, "my fellow-servants, Lo Scioperoni Giacomo, and the villagers, Il ballerino Giacomo,-that was when people were in good humour; but when things went wrong, it was everywhere scoundrel Giacomo!"

"And so, scoundrel Giacomo," cried Gaston yawning, "took in bad part being called blockhead and lazybones, showed his master a light pair of heels, and fled to the stage. Well! here are the crowns, and the porter will hand you a cloak, any one of the ten you prefer. And now begone! You have tired me to death, and your history grows sleepy." And the Duke again yawned, threw himself back in his chair, and made sign to Alphonse to place wine within reach. De Rochefort and the others, seeing that Giacomo was to escape the ordeal of forced confession in the court-yard, the ceremonies of pinking with the point of the rapier, drenching with water, and other inquisitorial means of quickening a captive's memory, which might have afforded sport, participated in the Duke's ennui, and were on the point of leading off the Italian, when the Duchess interfered. Her curiosity had been excited without being satiated, and she detained the man a moment to inquire how long he had been in Paris. He replied, only since yesterday. And the cause of his coming? To

this question, he answered not, but betrayed a confusion which piqued the Duchess to know more. She shifted the ground, inquiring the name of the master he had formerly served. It was, he said, the Marchese di Bassano.

"Bassano!" exclaimed her Royal Highness in astonishment. "Bassano!" echoed Gaston starting to his feet.

"Bassano!" murmured Ippolita of that name-a name which was echoed in surprise by all. The Italian, who had seen himself like a showman, buffoon, or dancing-monkey, one hour the delight of a highborn audience, the next, almost the disgust of tired auditors, and to whom was gladly given la clef des champs-permission to abscond, was surprised beyond measure to find himself an object of intense interest to the volatile beings who now crowded so closely around him.

"Let him have air-he will be suffocated," said Condé, expostulating with his friends.

An explanation ensued, by which it appeared that the Italian had been valet to Ippolita's father; and although suffering much ridicule on every side from being unable to lay claim to any parentage or even patronymic appellation, was much beloved by the old Marquis, and on his death-bed, entrusted with a will in favour of Ippolita,-no other depository being deemed safe from the grasp of the nephew, then under the same roof. The faithful domestic was enjoined to convey the document to the hands of the Lady Ippolita, when a fitting opportunity presented itself; but the persecution and violence to which he was subjected by the awakened suspicions of the new Marquis, rendered the matter difficult. The notary disappeared no one knew whither, and the valet judged from that event, and from the continued searches throughout the castle, that the nephew had discovered the fact of a will having been executed, and he was obliged for awhile to bury the deed, and, finally, to save life and preserve his secret, to fly from the castle. More effectually to ensure disguise, he joined a band of strolling pantomimics, became an expert vaulter and harlequin; but even in the haunt and profession he had chosen, was tracked by the insatiate noble, -forced to flee from place to place, from company to company, to avoid the impending stiletto. After awhile, he thought he had obtained the wished-for obscurity and oblivion; but no,-repose was not of long duration. In Palermo, he was again, as he believed, tracked to his lair-he escaped thence by sea-was carried into Barbary by a piratical rover-exchanged for a captured Moslemite, and landed in Marseilles destitute and ragged. From that port he begged his way to Paris, with the intention of discovering the lady Ippolita, whom he knew to be under protection of the court, but was ignorant of her abode, or even the name of the Princess with whom she found a home.

"I cannot be blamed even by Madame," said Gaston to the Prince of Condé, "if our mantle-hunting leads to such results as this!" And he pointed to where the faithful valet, in tears, and at the feet of Ippolita, drew from his bosom the precious, long-stored document, and handed it to his young mistress, from whom he was to expect, as her father said, a reward for his fidelity.

"The face of De Voisin is two inches shorter since morning," remarked De Rochefort to his friends, as he beheld the equerry hovering around Ippolita, catching her smiles, and sharing the congratulations of the Duchess and her ladies.

We need scarcely add, that with the will in hand, a living witness to prove its execution, and attest his own and the defunct's signature, backed by the powerful influence of the French court, Ippolita recovered the wealth to which she was entitled, and made happy the poor equerry by bestowing her hand where her heart was already pledged. Giacomo, now the fortunate, was well provided for, and by no means regretted the wild pursuit at his heels, and the termination of the chase. His threadbare cloak, Mantle Number Ten, was preserved by Alphonse as a heir-loom, a trophy of fortune, and an omen of prosperity.

"SWEET MARY MALONE."

"Oh! let that eye, which, wild as the gazelle's,
Now brightly bold, or beautifully shy;
Wins as it wanders,-dazzles where it dwells,-
Glance o'er this page, nor to my verse deny
That smile for which my breast might vainly sigh,
Could I to thee be ever more than friend."

A WRIT OF ERROR.

BY GEORGE RAYMOND.

THE greater part of twelve months which had elapsed since the return of Reginald Lister from India, he had occupied in visiting the chief cities of Europe. He had quitted home at an early age to enter on the most eventful of all professions, in the most remarkable of all countries. But his return from Benares to the borders of Somersetshire was not an unmingled joy. He had lost in the meantime his father, a man of great erudition and unaffected benevolence; yet the increased sentiments of affection with which he was received by his surviving parent, seemed to assert she had taken in trust all the father's love, which was now added to the sum of her own maternal tenderness.

Reginald Lister, a graceful and accomplished young man, was at this time captain of dragoons, in the vigour of health, with a rent-roll of six thousand a-year. It will be scarcely a matter of surprise that, under the above circumstances, he should have resolved on revisiting no more the distant scenes of his military career, looking rather to the interesting obligations of that station which time and destiny had now allotted him.

About two miles distant from Lister Priory resided a Mr. Harlington, a retired placeman. He was a gentleman neither of mean family, abilities, nor fortune; but he had lately come into the county, having purchased a small estate contiguous to that of Captain Lister, the venerable house on which had acquired no inconsiderable interest in the eyes of its new possessor, by a tradition of its having been the scene of the deliberations of the romantic and unfortunate Duke of Monmouth. But Mr. Harlington was a cold, unapproachable being. A proud, tortuous apprehension of morals constituted him severe and uncharitable to his neighbour, arbitrary and unparental in his family; but he had a ready pliancy to men in power, recollecting, without doubt, the counsel of Butler, that he who would climb the hill must bend his body. To those on his own level he was austere almost to offence; and in transactions with the world, held himself fully acquitted so long as he kept just clear of the demarcation of dishonesty. As to the word indulgence, it was a term utterly unknown in his vocabulary.

To wayward youth, or early indication of folly, this was a school perhaps not ill-fitted; but for two daughters, who constituted the family of Mr. Harlington, a system of prejudicial and unnatural discipline but their generous spirit shot cheerfully up from this ungenial soil, and ripened and expanded into moral loveliness.

Catherine and Matilda were as nearly of an age as they could be without being the offspring of the same birth-a year only their difference; but their minds and passions, their hopes and beliefs, their joys and sorrows were positively one. In person, however, they contrasted, but with equal claim to beauty. Matilda was fair and meditative; Catherine dark and animated. Taste might falter which to choose; or the poet suspend his lay between the orient morning and the golden sun. Nature was glorified in both.

Hitherto there had been but little intercourse between the families

of the Priory and the Harlington property. Mrs. Lister had not been