I will hasten there this moment !" exclaimed Waldegrave, seizing his hat. He paused, however, as the unintermitting flashes illuminated the surrounding dreariness, lest by braving the storm he should prematurely betray his motives; and again casting down his hat, continued to walk backwards and forwards.

The incessant fury of the tempest completely justified Negroni's apprehensions.

Towards evening Waldegrave sought to compose the agitation of his heart with hopes that the morrow would dissipate the mystery which hung over Edith and Lord Forrester but should the event verify his worst suspicions, adieu to Como's magic scenes for ever.

A mystery it indeed was. Every appearance suggested the idea of a solemn engagement between those two; but Waldegrave, who had studied the minutest points of Edith's character, fancied that he had frequently perceived a coldness incompatible with affection in her manner towards Lord Forrester.

She was too artless to affect an indifference she did not feel; she was too disinterested to cherish a mercenary thought; yet why was Lord Forrester ever her attendant?

why did she accept his assistance on all occasions and why was he so constant an immate of her father's house? Why too, oh why? did the blush of pleasure glow on Edith's cheek when Waldegrave approached?--why trembled emotion in every feature when he pressed her hand ?—and why did she watch his boat so long as it bore him from the shore? Did those outward signs only betoken the friendly feeling that near relations bear each other, or was it that ardour for triumph which burns in the breast of every existing being, and even measures the fox's stealthy pace, as he circumvents the unsuspicious bird; bids the sportman's pulse throb high when Reynard's death-note peals; and lights with exultation the soft maiden's eye, while she weaves the web around her gallant hunter, whose heart once gained, she tortures and despises. In each case, the intoxicating interest of pursuit can only be gratified by the victim's ruin.

"Yes, Edith, your heart is unsullied by that taint of earth; your mind is faultless as your form! It cannot be that another's pain can give you joy !"

Thus hastily Waldegrave dismissed the idea of her co quetry, as if the very idea were injurious to her,

He then thought of Edgar :-Edgar, whom he loved with more than brother's affection, whose friendship for himself long years had proved-was he then Edgar's rival? Did his dream of happiness emanate from the annihilation - of Edgar's earthly hopes? The idea was dreadful; and earnestly Henry sought to convince himself that not between them lay the question, but between himself and Forrester.

The war of elements continued, but Waldegrave, who felt how high the storm raged in his own breast, now almost rejoiced that he had time to calm himself ere he should again meet Edith.

Night's grey mantle had shrouded the earth, ere the tempest's last mutterings died away. The sky then cleared, the stars glowed bright, the wind had sunk to rest, the Lake was still agitated, but its agitations were hourly diminishing. After a sleepless night Waldegrave rose, and under a more brilliant heaven, again sought the Viviana shores.

་་

Very glad, indeed, to see you again!" said Sir Ralph, as he shook Waldegrave's hand; 66 now you have had a specimen of the vicissitudes peculiar to this climate, which vex Forrester's temper."

Waldegrave followed his uncle to the arbour with a beating heart. The minute examination which he had taken of his inmost soul as such, that wondering at his former security, it now seemed impossible that Edith should be ignorant of his situation.

"How can we meet as hitherto ?" thought he; “with all that heedlessness, that absence of reserve which till now has made our intercourse so delightful."

Uneasy lest Edith should discover some alteration in his looks, he entered the harbour, and there found Lady Vivian and Constance. He was surprised, disappointed, “and relieved, at not beholding her whom he longed and dreaded

most to meet.

Some minutes elapsed ere he gained sufficient courage to enquire for Edith, when Lady Vivian informed him that she was engaged to dine with some friends who lived near Moltrasio.

"Will she be here this evening?" asked Waldegrave, who felt his colour change; which he had the consolation, however, of observing that Constance did not remark, while Lady Vivian, who had evidently paid no attention to his

12

manner, informed m that Edith would probably return about nine o'clock.

"Well now, my dear mother," said Constance, "leaving you in my good cousin's company, I stroll to Blevio, and will be with you before dinner;" then kissing Lady Vivian'scheek, and playfully shaking Waldegrave's hand, as she passed, she disappeared like an arrow from their sight.

When left alone with Lady Vivian, Waldegrave, who felt an indescribable embarrassment, shewed her Lord Egmont's letter, made Edgar's excuse, and presently dropped something about his own departure. His sentences, however, were so broken, and his manner so confused, as the struggle arose between inclination and duty, that Lady Vivian could not understand him; and supposing that so much hesitation could only proceed from a fear of offending her, "You are going," said she, smiling, "if I understand you rightly, because you are engaged to your friend. You are aware that the intelligence cannot be welcome to me; but, indeed, you have tarried with us poor exiles longer than we could have expected."

"I fear, indeed," said Waldegrave, "that I did not make myself clear. I did not mean to say that I must go exactly to-day-that is to-morrow-but I believe......"

If you

Lady Vivian again smiled. Pray use no ceremony with us, my dear Henry! Of course you have engagements, and you must fulfil them when it suits you. have yet two more days to devote to the Lake of Como, I believe my daughters wished to shew you Bellagio, and something else that way; but if not, you will see a thousand interesting places in your progress southwards :-so it does not signify!"

"Pardon me," said Waldegrave; "I had no intention of departing so abruptly, I was only regretting that my time was drawing to its close."

Fortunately for Waldegrave, the entrance of Rathallan at this juncture, opportunely relieved his perplexity.

1

CHAPTER XIX.

She was a form of life and light,
That seen became a part of sight,

And rose where'er I turned mine eye,

The morning star of memory.-LORD BYRON.

THE sun sank low in the horizon, but Edith came not, and Waldegrave, who had earnestly listened for her return in vain, to dissipate, in some sort, the uneasiness which he experienced during her continued absence, at length proposed to Rathallan that they should walk towards Blevio.

The path they followed rises a little above the lake as far as Blevio church, behind which it passes, then rapidly attaining a higher level, continues gradually ascending through the thick wood.

At length some very miserable houses by which the road seemed to pass, caught Waldegrave's eye. "We must go through this Blevio, I am sorry to say," observed Rathallan; but by turning into the Belvidere garden we shall avoid the next two."

"Is this Blevio?" said Waldegrave, astonished to findthat what appeared so very beautiful at a distance should be so wretched in reality.

"Yes," said Rathallan, smiling, "one is always disappointed on entering an Italian village, which looks so picturesque from a distance, to find it internally so dirty and miserable. Here it is peculiarly the case; the poor inhabitants, however, are not so ill off as they were; Miss Constance leaves the trace of her visits. She supplies their abodes with furniture, and white-washes the interior, which contributes largely to their cleanliness; but she will not allow them to touch the outside of their huts, which is so pleasing to her artistical eye.'

"And can she manage them?" asked Waldegrave, as he gazed on a group of women and children, who returned his stare with interest; "they look a very uncouth set."

"O yes," said Rathallan; "they regard her with a sort of veneration, even submitting to her decision in wrangles amongst each other. Her proficiency in their language, unintelligible to most foreigners, is a sure passport to their affections. Now we must descend this steep little bit, and we are at the Belvidere."

In admiring the elegancies and beauties of the Belvidere house and garden, Henry and Rathallan lingered till a late hour, and the sun had long been set ére Waldegrave proposed returning home.

Rathallan appeared to possess a strong independent judgment, tempered with feeling and taste, correct information on all topics, and extensive research in the abstruse branches of literature. There was in his bearing towards all a diffidence which, apparently without exertion on his part, claimed universal respect. His manner was grave, and a tincture of melancholy shed over his sombre features, insensibly engaged the stranger's interest.

To Waldegrave, who was no longer a stranger, he had become an agreeable companion; and it was evident that he had relaxed from his retired habits in an unusual manner towards our hero, which the latter attributed to his own connection with Sir Ralph.

Rathallan was at all times disposed to talk of the Vivians, which Waldegrave generally discouraged, from a dread of hearing Edith's intended marriage confirmed, joined to the fear of not retaining his own outward composure at the intelligence.

But now that he had gently prepared Lady Vivian for his speedy departure, Henry's courage rose, and he determined to allure Mr. Rathallan to his favourite theme.

With this object in view, relying on the darkness to conceal whatever emotion his countenance might otherwise betray, Waldegrave at last ventured to ask, in the steadiest tone he could master, where Miss Vivian was gone.

"Miss Vivian," replied Rathallan, after a moment's pause, "is gone to dine with the Baroness Waldenburgh, who lives up that way," (pointing to the opposite shore).

"Waldenburg!" said Waldegrave; "surely that is the name of the old lady whom I saw the other night, but she did not appear to be a native of Germany, as the name imports."

"The Baron and Baroness Waldenburg," said Rathal