a

and yo!".

ness.

Mr Mordaunt, evidently wishing to and again implored him to be comchange the conversation.

forted. “By and bye, sir, you shall hear For a few minutes the young man all, but first satisfy me about Mary. continued in a state of utter stupefac. Is she in good health ?”

tion. At length rousing himself, he “ My poor boy," said Mr Mordaunt exclaimed, “ I am the veriest wretch in a faltering tone of voice, while he on earth! Oh, Mr Mordaunt! if you turned away his head as if to conceal did but know how often in sickness his emotion, “evil times have fallen and in sorrow, in storm and tempest, on us all since you left. The chasten. and under the burning suu of the ing hand of Heaven has been on both tropics, I have derived health and our families. I have lost a daughter, hope, and the power of endurance,

from the thought of once again sec. - Lost! how so?"

ing Mary--if you did but know this, Mr Mordaunt made no reply. sir, and feel but the one-half of what

“Do not tell me she is dead, sir ; pray I now feel, you would not ask me to do not ; say she lives ! Dead! What be comforted. And how did she could death have to do with youth and die?” he exclaimed, turning on the beauty like hers?" and starting from old gentleman with startling fiercehis seat, John paced hurriedly up and down like one distracted. 66 Dead!" “ Another time, John, you shall he continued, “who said she was know all; but not now leave me dead ? Not you, Mr Mordaunt; no, nay, not a word, I must be obeyed. my fears misgave me, you merely said Remember I am Mary's father." you had lost your daughter ; well, a “ And as such, sir, your word is week's—nay, a day's absence of such law with me," said Trevanion, sullenly a daughter is a loss; she has left her rising to take leave. home awhile she has gone to visit “ Then go home to your father, some friend or relation ; but she will John. Forget his former harshness, return, will she not, sir?" and John, and act towards him as a son should looked in the father's face, as if life or ever act towards a parent. Believe death hung on the answer he should me, he stands in need of all your afreceive.

fection, for-But no, no," mutter“I would fain encourage your hopes, ed the old gentleman, turning away my boy, but”

from his young friend, " I cannot tell “No more, I see it all, then she is what has happened at the Hall. I really dead !” said the young man have not the heart to add to his grief ; abruptly, interrupting Mr Mordaunt, I fear I have said too much already." “ dead! and I was not by to close her And Mr Mordaunt advanced to the eyes and receive her last farewell! window near which John was standOh God-oh God, why did I ever ing with his eye riveted to the ground ; leave her?"

led him gently from the room, and “ Be calm, John, be calm, I entreat bade him adieu for the night.

On quitting the cottage, Trevanion 6 And so Mary—my Mary, is bent his way slowly and thoughtfully dead! 'Tis strange, the old live, the towards his father's hall, pausing often young pass away. Dead-dead! How

on his road, and deviating from it into my brain throbs! Air-more air- one of those by-lanes with which the the heat of this room is stilling," and neighbourhood abounds, like one unsinking into his seat, Trevanion placed conscious of his movements; and so his hand on his forehead, gasping at he was to a certain extent, for the the same time as if he were on the shock of Mary's death had stunned his verge of suffocation.

faculties; and he kept constantly re" I did not foresee this," said Mr peating to himself, “ dead! dead ! Mordaunt to himself. “ I fear I just as if his mind were unable to grasp have been over-hasty--the shock has the full meaning of the word. been too great for him-however, I In this bewildered state--for as yet acted for the best---besides, who would it was rather bewilderment than grief have supposed after so long an ab- with him, John reached the park gates, sence he would have taken it so much the sight of which roused him into to heart?" and approaching Tre- something like animation. He felt vanion, he gently seized his hand, that he was at home at last ; the rooks

you."

that cawed above his head; the giant when the heart is without a scar, and trees that flung their shadow across the thought without a cloud! But his path; the distant bark of a fox- these feelings were but momentary ; hound; and the loud laugh of some darkness again fell on his mind; for, labourers in the adjacent hay-fields; as he hurried across the lawn, the first all these familiar sights and sounds object on which his eye fell, was the had the effect of rousing him from his fir grove through which he had last stupor, by carrying him back to the wandered, on an evening like the predays of his boyhood -- happy days, sent, with Mary!

CHAPTER X.

a

'Tis an old saying, that misfortunes old, and be brought back in a few seldom come singly, and John Treva. hours as stiff as a hack in a knacker's nion was doomed to verify this adage. yard. He was buried only two days The ball that he had left, ringing with since, and your poor father takes his the laughter of its jovial inmates, and loss sadly to heart. He eats a mere alive with the bustle of its numerous nothing to signify, which is a sure sign domestics, was now forlorn and appa- he's grieving ; for you may remember rently deserted. He rung a loud peal he had an uncommon appetite for his at the ball door, but for some minutes time of life." no notice was taken of his summons. “ Enough – enough," exclaimed Surprised, but not alarmed-for after Trevanion, hastily ; " show me to my the shock he had received, nothing father." could alarm him, or call forth any • Assuredly, Master John ; but I deep expression of emotion-Johnrung 'think you had better wait here till I and rung again, each time more vio- go in and give him notice of your colently than before, till at length his ming. His head wanders a little at father's favourite groom appeared, times, for you know he doated on your and having opened the door, stood brother; and to lose him just as the staring at him as though he were shooting season was coming on, and a visitor more unexpected than wel. he such a capital shot! Ah, Master eome.

John, I shall never be able to abide “ What, Thomas, have you forgot- the sight of a partridge again, fond as ten me already ?" exclaimed Treva- I used to be of 'em." nion, holding out his hand to the ve- Having thus disburdened himself of teran domestic.

some portion of his tribulation, Tho. “ Hey day, Master John! No, sure mas hurried forward into the parlour. -and yet it is! Ah, sir, you have re- John followed close at his heels, but turned at a sad moment. Your poor halted outside the door while the serfather —"and the old man paused. vant went in to announce his arrival. On which Trevanion said,

Hearing the door open, the Baro“ What of my father? I trust no net, who was dozing in his arm-chair, ill has befallen him."

turned round with a peevish exclama“ To him, to all of us, Master John. tion of surprise, on which the old man The Hall is no longer what it used to abruptly addressed him with, “ Here's be when you knew it.”

your son come back to see you, sir." “ Speak out, old man, and do not " Son! What son?" trifle with my impatience. I am not “ Master John, sir, come back from what I was. So tell me at once, with foreign parts." out more delay, is my father living." “ John-John! Oh, true, I had

“ He is, but ill-very ill, worn forgotten. Bid him come in." down with grief for the loss of your In an instant John rushed forward, brother."

and flung himself into his father's arms, “ Hah! Is poor Edward gone?" who returned his greeting with more

“ Yes_he was killed by a fall from affection than he had ever before evinhis horse. I always told him the bay ced towards him. mare would be the death of him, that's « Welcome, my dear boy-welsome comfort. Ah! Master John, it's come,” said Sir Hugh, pointing to a a sad thing to see a young man go out seat beside him.

" You are my only in the morning fresh as a four-year- hope, now that poor Ned.

1

commence

a

“ I have heard all; so pray, sir, shipwrecked at Santo Jago, to that don't distress yourself by the recital," when he escaped from the pirates off replied John, endeavouring for his fa- the coast of Porto Bello. He had, he ther's sake to appear composed.

said, been tossed about in an open “ You're right, my boy; what can't boat for the best part of a night and a be cured must be endured, as the say- day, when, just as he had abandoned ing is. But, oh, John, such a son as all hope of preservation, he was pickhe was! So dutiful, so clever--there ed up by a small fishing-vessel, the wasn't a better sportsman in all De- crew of which carried him, at his own vonshire ! And then when we re- request, before the governor of the turned home in the evening, this room city, to whom he communicated the used to ring again with his laughter; intentions of the pirates, how, hayou might have heard him half-way ving captured the galleon, they were down to the village. But the old hall only waiting the arrival of Morgan's is silent now. As for me, I will never squadron to

an attack mount horse more. Ah! 'tis a sore on Porto Bello. Alarmed at this intrial, John, but we must bear it, boy. telligence, the governor made instant There is nothing like bravely bearing preparations for defence, but in vain ; up against it; so, take example by me, for in a few days the freebooters apand pluck up courage." And so say- peared before the city, captured it, and ing, the poor afflicted father lifted up after committing a thousand excesses, his voice and wept. “ And why didn't would have set it on fire, had not the you write to us, John?" he continued, inhabitants prevailed on them to retire when his burst of grief had subsided by the payment of a heavy ransom. “ Your brother Ned used to be often Trevanion, who took an active part in asking after you of the Mordaunts." the defence of Porto Bello, was se

" I had no means of communicating verely wounded early in the assault, with you, sir, so strange have been my but contrived to escape the recognition reverses since we last met."

of Captain Davis and his crew, by " No doubt, every thing is strange lying concealed in the house of a mernow. The old hall is strange, and chant to whom his skill and bravery even my own voice sounds strange in had recommended him. Here he remy ears.

Well, thank God! I have mained for months, hovering between one son left. But, John, John, you life and death ; but at length youth are not Edward.” And the Baronet's and a good constitution prevailed, and eyes fell upon the vacant chair which taking advantage of the first favourthe deceased used to occupy.

able chance, he set sail for the Old The old groom, who was a privi. World, and, after a stormy and proleged domestic, and now that his mas- tracted voyage, arrived at Cadiz, ter was incapacitated, took upon him- whence he found his way to England. self the entire duties of the household, When the Baronet heard John talk here entered, unbidden, with a jug of about the pirates, his curiosity was vi. claret, in order that John might have sibly excited ; but it soon flagged, and as social a welcome as was possible, he sank again into a listless apathy. under the circumstances.

Suddenly, however, making an effort Sir Hugh smiled, in faint approval to rouse himself, and pushing the jug of Thomas's forethought, and filling a towards his son, he said, “ Ned, my goblet for himself and another for his boy, help yourself ; we shall have rare son, he drank what he called, the sport to-morrow, for they tell meo welcome home.” The generous b2- God help me! my wits are gone a verage, which had never passed his woolgathering, I think.” lips since Edward's death, for a time In vain Trevanion tried to rally his revived his spirits, and he looked him. father's spirits by forcing himself to self again. Well, my boy," he ex- appear cheerful. The Baronet's enerclaimed, “ I am glad to have thee with gies were, for the time, completely me again ; and where have you been, prostrated, and he sank into a dull and what have you been doing? Let heavy slumber ; seeing which, and me hear all, I can listen to you now." aware that his presence could be of no

Glad of an opportunity to divert his more avail, he quitted the room and father's and his own thoughts, Treva- retired to his own chamber. nion proceeded to recount his adven- It is singular how deep grief brings tures from the period when he was out the latent points of character, and

a

eye fell

imparts for the time a new moral as- touched, with chaste and solemn ra-
pect to the sufferer. I have seen diance, the leafy groves and emerald
some men, who have ever betrayed the lawns of Trevanion park,
quickest sensibilities, submit to the As John continued gazing on the
severest visitation with a calmness luxuriant landscape that lay stretched
worthy of a stoic; and others, whom far and wide beneath him, his
I should have pronounced callous as a upon objects dear-how dear! from
rock, give way at once, unable to of- their association with Mary Mor-
fer the slightest resistance to the as. daunt. Here was the spreading oak
saults of the chastener.

Such was

on whose bark he had carved, like the contrast that the elder and young- Paris, the name of his Ænone; there er Trevanion now presented to each the little grassy mound, where she other. The one rough, despotic, and had halted to rest herself after an apparently insensate, was wholly sub- evening stroll through the park, Still dued; while the other, who was just they flourished; but she who had conthe reverse, sternly wrestled with his secrated them in John's eyes-she had grief. But the high moral fortitude passed away! Never more should he which had sustained John during this behold her; the witch's prediction was, trying interview with his father, and in part, fulfilled; and henceforth all was had never deserted him, even in his barren in nature and his own heart. severest calamities, now wholly gave Thus meditating, with his glance way when, the necessity for self-con- riyetted on the oak, which stood alone trol withdrawn, he found himself in in the centre of the lawn, the mournthe solitude of “ the old, familiar” er's attention was suddenly diverted hall. But it was the thought of Mary by the sight of a female figure slowly that thus unmanned him; it was for gliding through the fir-grove which her his tears flowed. Neither his fa- belted a portion of the park. Was it ther nor his brother had ever done fancy? did his eyes deceive him ? or aught to call forth bis affections : did he, indeed, see the form of Mary? their natures were wholly opposed No; it could not be. The form must to his; but Mary was one with him- be that of some belated villager reself. Together they had pursued the turning to South Zeal; for it was but saine studies—partaken of the same early yet, and the bustle of the haypleasures — loved the same

field, and the subsequent merry-maAnd she was gone! This was the king of the labourers, kept many from one overpowering grief that, “ like their homes beyond the usual hour. Aaron's serpent, swallowed all the Before, however, Trevanion could rest.” Long his tears continued to come to any definite conclusion on the flow; but the paroxysm having at subject, the figure-if it were not a length exhausted itself, he rose from mere phantom of the imagination-his seat, and approached the window. had disappeared; and fancying that the The night was still as the sleep of the wild excitement of his spirits had dedead; the sky was studded with stars ; ceived him, he turned from the winand the moon, nearly at the full, dow, and threw himself on his couch.

scenes.

CHAPTER XI.

For the first two or three days after to steal away on a solitary stroll, or his son's return, the poor Baronet, to the cottage of Mr Mordaunt, from who had no resources of any sort to whom he gleaned by degrees all the fily to by way of refuge from grief, particulars of Mary's death. Her kept him constantly by his side, and end was a sad one ; yet, though was so pleased with his unmurmuring not more than two months had elapsubmission to his frequent caprices, sed since the catastrophe, her father that John bid fair in time to supply seemed—not a little to John's astothe vacuum which the death of Ed. nishment—to have completely recoward had left in his affections. So vered the shock, though his pride was close, in fact, was his attendance on evidently gratified by the way in his father, that it was only when the which Trevanion took it to heart, and latter took his wonted nap after din. the deep-rooted sincerity of his atner, that the young man was enabled tachment.

A whole week had now clapsed to the old gentleman, who was seated since John's return, and the Baronet, reading by the window. in whose affections he made rapid ad- Seen her! Seen whom?" vances, became gradually more recon- “ Mary!" ciled to his lot. The society of the “ Impossible.” clergyman of South Zeal greatly con- “ Say not so, sir ; as I live, I saw tributed to bring about this desirable her. Once I might be deceived, but result ; for whenever he saw his pa- not twice." While he spoke, Mr tron disposed to a relapse, he was al- Mordaunt's agitation became nearly as ways ready to divert his thoughts by great as his own.

6. Can this be postelling the village gossip, or calling sible ?” he said in an under-tone, " but upon John for a recital of his adven- no, it cannot be ;" then addressing tures with the pirates, which, now that himself to John, he added, “

you are Sir Hugh was able to lend a more at- mistaken, young man." tentive ear to them, raised his adven- “ 'Tis no mistake, sir," replied turous boy full a hundred per cent in Trevanion ; " I repeat, these eyes his esteem and admiration.

have seen the dead. The look the John was returning home late one form—nay, the very step was hers ! evening from the village, having left You darkly hinted to me your suspi. the priest to attend his father during cion that in despair, or from some his absence, when, attracted by the other cause, she had become what I serene beauty of the hour, he halted, dare not name; and the consciousness and seated himself on the green mound of this haunts her even beyond the to which I have before alluded. Not grave. 'Twas to me she came, and I a sound was to be heard about him, -and I alone-am summoned to pro. except the creaking of a hay-cart cure rest for her troubled spirit. How along the road ; the drowsy hum of -how-shall I act? Hah,” he added the cockchafer, or the caw-caw of the abruptly, after a minute's reflection, rooks, who, having finished their last " the witch-the witch-I will to the meal, were just bidding each other a wood this very night. 'Tis said she hoarse good-night. While John sat has power over the phantoms of anwatching the deer bounding noiselessly other world ; from her then I shall past him, his thoughts the while tra- learn what course to pursue. Speak velling back to the past, he saw_or not, sir; I am resolved, and will seek imagined he saw the same form her this very hour.' which he had beheld but a few nights • Madman !” rejoined Mr Morbefore, gliding through the same sad daunt, stationing himself before the fir-grove. Could he be mistaken a

you rush on your destruction. second time? Impossible. It was The wise woman is no longer what it must be- Mary Mordaunt! In those she was, when you last heard talk of days the belief in spirits was universal, her. None now cross her threshold, and more especially was it held, that but at the peril of both body and soul. those who had come to an untimely The very law itself fears to exercise end, and had not been interred in con- control over her. Beware, John, be. secrated ground, were doomed to walk ware, lest she curse you !" the earth. Trevanion was not supe- “ I care not,” exclaimed Trevanion, rior to the superstitions of his age, and impetuously, “come weal-come wo while he stood with his eyes rivetted - I will see her. Let her curse me ; on the form which was fast blending I can but wither under her curses; and with the shades of evening, his whole oh, Mr Mordaunt, I feel I am hourly frame trembled with agitation. At withering without them.' length, manning himself with an effort, - This is the veriest frenzy, young he made an abrupt dart in the direc

Think of your father; and for tion where he had beheld it. But it his sake". had vanished, on which hurrying “ I will think of nothing but that through the grove, and shouting aloud Mary”. in the vain hope of receiving some “ Yet hear me out, John, and take reply, he flew with the speed of one heed to what I say. If you persist in frenzied to the village, and did not your headstrong purpose, not only once halt till he found himself at Mr will you peril your own life, and there. Mordaunt's cottage.

by your father's last chance of happi“ I have seen her!" he exclaimed, ness, but you will fail also in your ob

door, v

man.