"Ravenswood sheathed his sword, uncocked and returned his pistol to his belt, walked deliberately to the door of the apartment, which he bolted-returned, raised his hat from his forehead, and, gazing upon Lucy with eyes in which an expression of sorrow overcame their late fierceness, spread his dishevelled locks back from his face, and said, Do you know me, Miss Ashton ? I am still Edgar Ravenswood.''

After some faultering, the Divine shews Ravenswood the signature of Lucy, applied to the deed of contract. "Ravenswood gazed upon the deed as if petrified, and it was without fraud or compulsion," said he, looking towards the clergyman, "that Miss Ashton subscribed this parchment?" "I vouch it upon my sacred character."

"This is indeed, madam, an undeniable piece of evidence,' said Ravenswood sternly; and it will be equally unnecessary and dishonourable to waste another word in useless remonstrance or reproach. There, madam,' he said, laying down before Lucy the signed paper and the broken piece of gold

there are the evidences of your first engagement; may you be more faithful to that which you have just formed. I will trouble you to return the corresponding tokens of my ill-placed confidence I ought rather to say of my egregious folly.'

"Lucy returned the scornful glance of her lover with a gaze, from which perception seemed to have been banished; yet she seemed partly to have understood his meaning, for she raised her hands as if to undo a blue ribbon which she wore around her

neck. She was unable to accomplish her purpose, but Lady Ashton cut the ribbon asunder, and detached the broken piece of gold which Miss Ashton had till then worn concealed in her bosom; the written counterpart of the lovers' engagement she for some time had had in her own possession. With a haughty curtsey, she delivered both to Ravenswood, who was much softened when he took the piece of gold.

"And she could wear it thus,' he said speaking to himself could wear it in her very bosom-could wear it next to her heart -even when-but complaint avails not,' he said, dashing from his eye the tear which had gathered in it, and resuming the stern composure of his manner. He strode to the chimney, and threw into the fire the paper and piece of gold, stamping upon the coals with the heel of his boot, as if to insure their destruction. I will be no longer,' he then said, an intruder here-Your evil wishes, and your worse offices, Lady

Ashton, I will only return, by hoping these will be your last machinations against your daughter's honour and happiness. And to you madam,' he said, addressing Lucy, ‘I have nothing farther to say, except to pray to God that you may not become a world's wonder for this act of wilful and deliberate perjury.'-Having uttered these words, he turned on his heel, and left the apartment."

Ravenswood departs on the instant, and in spite of the sickness of heart and life which falls upon Lucy,—the preparations for the marriage are hurried on with all speed by Lady Ashton the ignorant and careless Bucklaw allowing things to go as it might happen-not suspecting or understanding the depth of Lucy's passion for Ravenswood-and little comprehending in general either the feelings or the rights of woman. Then comes the terrible scene for which all this has been the prelude.

"It is well known that the weddings of ancient days were celebrated with a festive publicity rejected by the delicacy of modern times. The marriage-guests upon the present occasion were regaled with a banquet of unbounded profusion, the relics of which, after the domestics had feasted in their turn, were distributed among the shouting crowd, with as many barrels of ale as made the hilarity without correspond to that within the castle. The gentlemen, according to the fashion of the times, indulged, for the most part, in deep draughts of the richest wines, while the ladies, prepared for the ball, which always closed a bridal entertainment, impatiently expected their arrival in the state gallery. At length the social party broke up at a late hour, and the gentlemen crowded into the saloon, and, enlivened by wine and the joyful occasion, laid aside their swords, and handed their impatient partners to the floor. The music already rung from the gallery, along the fretted roof of the ancient state apartment. According to strict etiquette, the bride ought to have opened the ball, but Lady Ashton, making an apo logy on account of her daughter's health, offered her own hand to Bucklaw as substitute for her daughter's.

"But as Lady Ashton raised her head gracefully, expecting the strain at which she was to begin the dance, she was so much struck by an unexpected alteration in the ornaments of the apartment, that she was surprised into an exclamation,- Whe has dared to change the pictures?'

"All looked up, and those who knew the usual state of the apartment, observed, with surprise, that the picture of Sir Willian Ashton's father was removed from its place,

and in its stead that of old Sir Malise Ravenswood seemed to frown wrath and vengeance upon the party assembled below. The exchange must have been made while the apartments were empty, but had not been observed until the torches and lights in the sconces were kindled for the ball. The haughty and heated spirits of the gentlemen led them to demand an immediate enquiry into the cause of what they deemed an affront to their host and to themselves; but Lady Ashton, recovering herself, passed it over as the freak of a crazy wench who was maintained about the castle, and whose susceptible imagination had been observed to be much effected by the stories which Dame Gourlay delighted to tell concerning the former family,' so Lady Ashton named the Ravenswoods. The obnoxious picture was immediately removed, and the ball was opened by Lady Ashton with a grace and dignity which supplied the charms of youth, and almost verified the extravagant encomiums of the elder part of the company, who extolled her performance as far exceeding the dancing of the rising generation.

"When Lady Ashton sat down, she was not surprised to find that her daughter had left the apartment, and she herself followed, eager to obviate any impression which might have been made upon her nerves by an incident so likely to affect them as the mysterious transposition of the portraits. Apparently she found her apprehensions groundless, for she returned in about an hour, and whispered the bridegroom, who extricated himself from the dancers, and vanished from the apartment. The instruments now played their loudest strains the dancers pursued their exercise with all the enthusiasm inspired by youth, mirth, and high spirits, when a cry was heard so shrill and piercing, as at once to arrest the dance and the music. All stood motionless; but when the yell was again repeated, Colonel Ashton snatched a torch from the sconce, and demanding the key of the bridal-chamber from Henry, to whom, as bride's-man, it had been entrusted, rushed thither, followed by Sir William and Lady Ashton, and one or two others, near relations of the family. The bridal guests waited their return in stupified amaze

ment.

"Arrived at the door of the apartment, Colonel Ashton knocked and called, but received no answer, except stifled groans. He hesitated no longer to open the door of the apartment, in which he found opposition, from something which lay against it. When he had succeeded in opening it, the body of the bridegroom was found lying on the threshold of the bridal-chamber, and all around was flooded with blood. A cry of surprise and horror was raised by all present; and the company, excited by this new alarmı, began to rush tumultuously towards the sleeping apartment. Colonel Ashton, first whispering to his mother,

• Search for her-she has murdered him!' drew his sword, planted himself in the pas sage, and declared he would suffer no man to pass excepting the clergyman, and the medical person present. By their assistance, Bucklaw, who still breathed, was raised from the ground, and transported to another apartment, where his friends, full of suspicion and murmuring, assembled round him to learn the opinion of the surgeon.

In the meanwhile, Lady Ashton, her husband, and their assistants, in vain sought Lucy in the bridal bed and in the chamber. There was no private passage from the room, and they began to think that she must have thrown herself from the window, when one of the company, holding his torch lower than the rest, discovered something white in the corner of the great oldfashioned chimney of the apartment. Here they found the unfortunate girl, seated, or rather couched like a hare upon its formher head-gear dishevelled; her night-clothes torn and dabbled with blood, her eyes glazed, and her features convulsed into a wild paroxysm of insanity. When she saw herself discovered, she gibbered, made mouths, and pointed at them with her bloody fingers, with the frantic gestures of an exulting demoniac.

As

So,

"Female assistance was now hastily summoned; the unhappy bride was overpowered, not without the use of some force. they carried her over the threshold, she looked down, and uttered the only articulate words that she had yet spoken, saying, with a sort of grinning exultation, you have ta'en up your bonnie bridegroom?' She was by the shuddering assistants conveyed to another and more retired apartment, where she was secured as her situation required, and closely watched. The unutterable agony of the parents-the horror and confusion of all who were in the castle-the fury of contending passions between the friends of the different parties, passions augmented by previous intemperance, surpass description.

"The surgeon was the first who obtained something like a patient hearing; he pronounced that the wound of Bucklaw, though severe and dangerous, was by no means fatal, but might readily be rendered so by disturbance and hasty removal. This silenced the numerous party of Bucklaw's friends, who had previously insisted that he should, at all rates, be transported from the castle to the nearest of their houses.— They still demanded, however, that, in consideration of what had happened, four of their number should remain to watch over the sick-bed of their friend, and that a suitable number of their domestics, well armed, should also remain in the castle. This condition being acceded to on the part of Colonel Ashton and his father, the rest of the bridegroom's friends left the castle, notwithstanding the hour and the darkness of

All

the night. The cares of the medical man were next employed in behalf of Miss Ashton, whom he pronounced to be in a very dangerous state. Farther medical assist ance was immediately summoned. night she remained delirious. On the morning, she fell into a state of absolute insensibility. The next evening, the physicians said, would be the crisis of her malady. It proved so, for although she awoke from her trance with some appearance of calmness, and suffered her night-clothes to be changed, or put in order, yet so soon as she put her hand to her neck, as if to search for the fatal blue ribbon, a tide of recollections seemed to rush upon her, which her mind and body were alike incapable of bearing. Convulsion followed convulsion, till they closed in death, without her being able to utter a word explanatory of the fatal scene."

At the funeral of Lucy, when all her near kinsmen are assembled in the vault of death, it is remarked that one is present for whom no place had been appointed, and Colonel Ashton knows full well that this is the Master of Ravenswood. He draws him aside immediately after the dust had been scattered into the grave, and, in a few words, challenges him to fight early in the morrow-alone-and on the sands in the neighbourhood of Ravenswood's own residence. Ravenswood is unwilling that the tragedy should be carried into any farther depths of blood by his means, but is at last compelled to accept the challenge.

bid him begone in a tone that admitted of no delay. The old man retired, not to rest, but to prayer; and from time to time crept to the door of the apartment, in order to find out whether Ravenswood had gone to repose. His measured heavy step upon the floor was only interrupted by deep groans; and the repeated stamps of the heel of his heavy boot, intimated too clearly, that the wretched inmate was abandoning himself at such moments to paroxysms of uncontrolled agony. The old man thought that the morning, for which he longed, would never have dawned; but time, whose course rolls on with equal current, however it may seem more rapid or more slow to mortal apprehension, brought the dawn at last, and spread a ruddy light on the broad verge of the glistening ocean. It was early in November, and the weather was serene for the season of the year. But an easterly wind had prevailed during the night, usual to the foot of the crags on which the and the advancing tide rolled nearer than

castle was founded.

"With the first peep of light, Caleb Balderstone again resorted to the door of Ravenswood's sleeping apartment, through a chink of which he observed him engaged in measuring the length of two or three swords which lay in a closet adjoining to the apartment. He muttered to himself, shorter-let him have this advantage as he as he selected one of these weapons, It is has every other.'

"Caleb Balderstone knew too well, from what he witnessed, upon what enterprise his master was bound, and how vain all interference on his part must necessarily prove. He had but time to retreat from the door, so nearly was he surprised by his master suddenly coming out, and descending to the stables. The faithful domestic followed, and from the dishevelled appearance of his master's dress, and his ghastly looks, was confirmed in his conjecture that he had passed the night without sleep or repose. He found him busily engaged in saddling his horse, a service from which Caleb, though with faultering voice and trembling hands, offered to relieve him. Ravenswood rejected his assistance by a mute sign, and having led the animal into the court, was just about to mount him, when the old domestic's fear giving way to the strong attachment which was the principal passion of his mind, he flung himself suddenly at Ravenswood's fect, and clasped his knees, while he exclaimed, Oh, sir! oh master!

kill me if you will, but do not go out on this dreadful errand. O! my dear master, wait but this day-the Marquis of Acomes to-morrow, and a' will be remedied.'

You have no longer a master, Caleb,' said Ravenswood, endeavouring to extricate himself; why old man, would you cling to a falling tower?'

"But I have a master,' cried Caleb, still holding him fast, while the heir of Ra

venswood breathes. I am but a servant; but I was your father's-your grandfather's -I was born for the family-I have lived for them-I would die for them—Stay but at home, and all will be well!'

"Well? fool! well?' said Ravenswood; vain old man, nothing hereafter in life will be well with me, and happiest is

the hour that shall soonest close it.'

"So saying, he extricated himself from the old man's hold, threw himself on his horse, and rode out at the gate; but instantly turning back, he threw towards Caleb, who hastened to meet him, a heavy purse of gold.

"Caleb,' he said, with a ghastly smile, I make you my executor; and again turning his bridle, he resumed his course down the hill.

The gold fell unheeded on the pavement, for the old man ran to observe the course which was taken by his master, who turned to the left down a small and broken path, which gained the sea-shore through a cleft in the rock, and led to a sort of cove, where, in former times, the boats of the castle were wont to be moored. Observing him take this course, Caleb hastened to the eastern battlement, which commanded the prospect of the whole sands, very near as far as the village of Wolf's-hope. He could easily see his master riding in that direction, as fast as the horse could carry him. The prophecy at once rushed on Balderstone's mind, that the Lord of Ravenswood should perish on the Kelpie's Flow, which lay half way betwixt the tower and the links or sand-knolls, to the northeast of Wolf's-hope. He saw him accordingly reach the fatal spot, but he never saw him pass further.

Colonel Ashton, frantic for revenge, was already in the field, pacing the turf with eagerness, and looking with impatience towards the tower for the arrival of his antagonist. The sun had now risen, and shewed its broad disk above the eastern sea, so that he could easily discern the horseman who rode towards him with speed which argued impatience equal to his own. At once the figure became invisible, as if it had melted into the air. He rubbed his eyes, as if he had witnessed an apparition, and then hastened to the spot, near which he was met by Balderstone, who came from the opposite direction. No trace what ever of horse or rider could be discerned; it only appeared, that the late winds and high tides had greatly extended the usual bounds of the quicksand, and that the unfortunate horseman, as appeared from the hoof-tracks, in his precipitate haste, had not attended to keep on the firm sands on the foot of the rock, but had taken the shortest and most dangerous course. One only vestige of his fate appeared. A large

sable feather had been detached from his hat, and the rippling waves of the rising tide wafted it to Caleb's feet. The old man took it up, dried it, and placed it in his bosom.

Such is the catastrophe of the Bride of Lammermoor-a catastrophe more striking in itself, and more wisely and profoundly adapted to all the circumstances of the story was never invented nor adorned by novelist or tragedian. The scene of the bridal chamber is the most terrible of conceptions, and yet where was ever fictitious terror less productive of distrust? It is indeed an awful close-but the mind has been wrought up to a steady and gloomy expectation of miseries-and the eye scarcely starts when it sees above the final chapter, the prophetic inscription,

"Who cometh from the bridal chamber?

It is Azrael, the angel of death." In like manner, the dreary and desolate destruction of young Ravenswood is conceived in perfect harmony with the ideas which the whole plan of the story have tended to make us connect with his person. We feel that the cup of the calamities of his house is full, and the echoes of those old prophecies which hags and witches mutter in our ears, have a fearful horror about them, which nothing can render vulgar. The use of Scottish superstitions in this tale is indeed managed with very singular skilland in a way too of which no example had hithertoo been afforded by the author. But the black feather that ripples in the rising wave, above the trackless grave of Ravenswood, is a more awful image than all the incantations of witches or wizards ever had power to evoke.

There is, perhaps, more poetry, and that of the finest kind, in the last two or three scenes of this novel, than any similar number of pages, written by this author, ever contained. The merit is not diminished, but we think increased, if, as he tells us at the close, the Bride of Lammermoor be in its essence no fiction-but OWER

TRUE A TALE.

the more ludicrous scenes which are We have no room to say much of copiously intermingled with the earlier parts of this tragic narrative. The chief source of the comic interest