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good effect of them was much marred, either by the effects of dissipation or of poor and unwholesome living. His eyes, in which lurked a hidden fire, were somewhat sunken, which with his hollow cheeks was almost proof sufficient of his poverty, if indeed his sudden interest in the beggar woman had not made the supposition almost a matter of certainty, for none sympathise with the poor so readily as those who feel the most. His hair was black, and fell in huge matted clusters over his shoulders, while a shabby hat, rejoicing in a rim with no particular bias up or down, but rising here and falling there according to fancy, was of very material assistance in rendering his naturally good looks of little moment. A blue Taglioni of antiquated fashion, in the pockets of which his gloveless hands were thrust, plaid trousers, boots with more holes than sole leather, completed his attire, save only a shirt collar of large dimensions and very yellow tinge, which fell over a black silk handkerchief that encircled his neck.

Such was Frederick Wilson, student-atlaw, as he called himself, reporter as his friends denominated him, while penny-a-liner was the highest epithet which his enemies could ever allow him. Whatever his profession, however, he did but little credit to it; his whole appearance was that of one whose breakfast was rare, whose dinner was matter of irregular occurrence, and who, if he ever supped, did so at intervals of very great extent. His reverie was broken short by the sound of footsteps, and, turning, he beheld, coming in the direction of the ballad-singer and himself, a girl and a man.

If in life we could always trace the mysterious workings of events, if we could follow out even the important consequences of a trifle, if we could see how clearly connected is the whole chain of circumstances which compose our individual existence, we should be less apt to give way to doubt and fear. Wilson had stopped in the wilderness of London streets to listen to a poor balladsinger; not having a farthing in the world, he could not gain courage to pass on until he saw the woman receive a pittance from a hand more able to minister to her wants. The deed was simple and ordinary, and yet to the young man this quiet act was the hinge on which turned his whole future fortunes. The plot and intrigues of years were thus defeated.

The girl was about eighteen, pretty, neatlyclothed, with a laughing, merry eye; and as she trotted along, drawing her woollen shawl close about her, and bearing a small basket on her arm, looked the very impersonification of innocence and youthful beauty. Fair, and inclined to embonpoint, rosy, and cherrylipped, the cold only heightened her beauty, which, though neither transcendant or rare, was quite remarkable enough to catch the notice of every passer. She trod the ground as if afraid of no lurking danger in the frosty surface of the flags, and rapidly approached, Wilson making the above observations as she neared him, on the same side of the way.

The man was on the opposite pavement, and was chiefly remarkable by the extreme pallor of his countenance, the heavy character of his form, a pair of green spectacles, and a superb cloak which shielded him from the cold.

The man and the girl passed Wilson, and on contrary sides came abreast of the poor woman, who, creeping rather than walking, was slowly advancing up the street. The girl stopped short, the man slackened his pace, and Wilson, curious to witness the result, turned towards him, and as he came in full view of the stranger, was startled by the actually demoniacal expression which for a moment flashed across his countenance, mingled with a look of unfeigned surprise. The man, however, gave him no time to make any further observations, as he hurried away, and Wilson was attracted once more to the girl, then in the act of presenting a few halfpence to the singer. Giving himself no time to think, the young man advanced closer.

"Young lady," said he, quickly, his face becoming crimson as he spoke, "excuse me, but really I thank you as much as if you had given it to myself."

The girl look curiously at the young man, without answering; for truth she was as confused as himself.

"The fact is, miss, I haven't a penny about me-no, not so much as a farthing, and I vowed I would not move until I saw this poor woman relieved."

"Sir," said the young girl, "I really do not know you;" and pouting her pretty lip, as much as to say, "you shabby, impertinent fellow, I will have nothing to say to you," made a slight inclination, and pursued her walk.

Wilson thrust his hands still deeper into so, when her progress was stopped by a trio

his capacious pockets and followed.

"A pretty decent figure I cut," thought he, "to make an impression on a fair damsel. Humph! more fit for a scarecrow than a lover. Hang this London! it does wear out more clothes than three country towns. Here's a blue coat, not above two years old, as brown as a berry; a hat of Christmas twelvemonth, without nap or rim; boots as airy as my lodging; pantaloons which never fitted! Good God! I hope she didn't suppose me a pickpocket."

of youths who, arm-in-arm, occupied the whole pavement. Under the influence of Bacchus, these high-bred juveniles were singing some verses strongly expressing their wish, and indeed determination, to enjoy no rest until dawn. At the sight of the girl they unanimously stopped short and closed round her—a manly practice as common as it is creditable.

"Where are you going, my dear, all alone and solitary?"

"Speak, damsel, and this horror will grow mild, this darkness light,'" exclaimed the centre personage of the group, a tall and ungainly youth.

"Gentlemen, let me go, this is some mis

take."

"No mistake, I assure you, my pretty bird of evening, none. But what have we here 'spirit of hell or goblin damned?""

As he spoke, Wilson dealt him a heavy blow that, inebriated as he was, sent him reeling against the wall; then seizing the girl's arm and passing it through his, hurried

The girl had turned into Oxford-street, and was quietly pursuing her way in the direction of Regent-street, Wilson was following at a respectful distance, while across the road walked the man in the cloak, occasionally turning as if to see whether the youth still dogged the damsel's footsteps. Wilson could not help wondering at the pertinacity with which this individual kept pace with him, a little behind the girl and a little in front of himself, freely discovering his visage to the young man, but studiously avoiding the glances of the other. Our hero her from the scene of contest before the comwe may as well at once introduce him-began to feel uncomfortable, and naturally. To be followed through London streets by a sus picious-looking man is not the most pleasant thing in the world; and when turning into a bye-way to avoid the steady tramp of pursuing footsteps, the matter becomes serious, as we hear the sounds still behind. We do not like it ourselves, and poor Wilson, who had reasons for not doing so, was really uncomfortable.

"He's too smart for a bailiff, or egad I'd cut it; still it does look awkward, and for the life of me I can't tell what he's after. Wheugh! I have it, a papa, or uncle, a jealous guardian, perhaps," and Wilson, as if quite relieved, stepped on briskly in the track of the fair one. It never struck him that it might be a jealous husband; so little apt are we to think that which would crush undefined and rising hopes; and the seedy, shabby youth already felt a lively interest in the young lady in the woollen shawl, who had given to a beggar-woman, when he could not.

The damsel crossed Regent-street and took the left-hand side of Oxford-street. Wilson did the same, and the man in the cloak dropped somewhat farther behind. Presently the young girl turned towards Soho, through one of the many dismal and shabby streets which lead into that locality; scarcely had she done

panions of the discomfited youth had reco-
vered from their surprise. The whole was
the work of an instant, but our hero had still
time to see that the man in the cloak stood in
the shadow of a house on the opposite side,
watching the scene with apparently intense
interest, and even, as he crossed over to
avoid the pursuit of the trio of gentlemen,
could hear him mutter a heavy curse.
at the time, however, paid no attention to
this fact, being occupied in preference with
his fair friend.

He

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be ungrateful to deny you, sir, what you request so earnestly, since you have earned a right to ask me something, and as for a few minutes we proceed the same way, explain to me about that ballad-singer- why were you so interested in her?"

"I really cannot tell, miss; all I know is, that her voice touched me, and not having any change, I felt anxious to see that she obtained some relief. But, as you have asked me a question, miss, allow me to inquire if you are aware that I have not been your only follower?"

"So you were following me, sir," observed she, looking up at him with a grave smile.

“ Excuse me, miss; I meant to say-going the same way."

Our hero's new friend could not restrain a laugh, and then she continued more demurely, "But this person, who also was going the same way, what was he like?"

Wilson, who at once saw how innocent and artless a creature he had charge of, was only more respectful from the fact of the damsel's openness of manner; it was a tacit compliment, a reliance on him, which he appreciated highly, and he answered, “ Why, miss, the man was stout, very pale"

The girl started, and looked hastily round; nothing remarkable appearing to strike her, she continued her walk in a listening attitude.

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"Who?" was on the verge of our hero's tongue, but politeness overcame curiosity, and he continued his remarks on what he had noticed, his young friend listening in silence, until both stopped before a house making tl e corner of a street in the neighbourhood of Newport Market. The ground-floor was an apothecary's, and the rest evidently occupied by lodgers. The large amount of bell-handles gave satisfactory evidence on this point.

The young girl was about to bow our hero off, when as he turned his face towards the shop she for the first time appeared to remark the haggard pallor which distinguished his countenance. Combining his poor habiliments with his want of means to assist the poor beggar-woman, and then glancing from his figure to his face, the damsel at once concluded him hungry. Now to tender him as

the question; a queen in the days of chivalry would as soon have offered some Christian knight, whose valour had released her from dragon or pagan, a pecuniary alms, as she a shilling to the youth who had rescued her from insult. Women are quick in their sensibilities, and equally quick in finding expedients.

"If mother be at home, sir, she will be glad to thank you for the service you have rendered me. Excuse me one moment;" and opening the door with a latch-key, the girl disappeared.

CHAPTER III.

SHADOWS OF EVIL.

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WO years and four months previous to the date of the event depicted in our last chapter,

the

shades of evening were fall

ing over a scene which had so much influence upon the fortunes of all the actors in this his

tory, that we at once record it, premising that it will, if possible, be the only retrospective chapter in which we shall indulge. The dislike which readers generally entertain for explanation arises from a very natural cause; man likes not to look back; his views are ever to the present or to the future; and impatient of all thought of the past, consigns it too readily to an oblivion which it rarely deserves, since what is gone by is sometimes more valu

sistance would of course have been out of able than what is to come on earth.

Not many miles from a market town, itself at no great distance from London, stands a house which, though neither vast in its dimensions, nor in its existence giving any signs of any very great wealth, had still about it an air of quiet and English happiness, of seclusion and rural beauty, amply sufficient to arrest the attention and command the sympathies of every lover of nature. The house was neat, fanciful, and appeared the abode of ease. Near the high road, its proprietor had shown his taste for retirement by presenting to the dusty public way what, by a species of hyperbole, may be called a side front. The elegant portico which admitted visitors to the interior of the villa, was here; but not one window, though several faint indications of that useful aperture were so displayed as to remove the appearance of a dead wall.

Within, all was grace, elegance, and luxurious ease. Passing through a somewhat lofty and spacious corridor, and opening a massive and heavily carved door, you entered a chamber, half library, half drawing-room, with all the chaste classicality of the one, combining the more ephemeral and feminine beauty of the other. Perhaps in no country in a woman's retreat do we find an equal air of comfort and elegance as in an Englishwoman's boudoir; and the same is true of every part of the domesticity over which her hand presides.

But the exigencies of our narrative call us imperatively to action rather than reflection.

Beneath a perfectly Italian piazza, which looked out upon the extensive garden and grounds, sat two men, concealed from the view of any one in the garden by a line of railings covered with the thick growth of numerous odoriferous creepers. Both sat, evidently wishing to be out of view, in one corner, on a seat of rude fashioning, which, among other rural articles, served to ornament the place. In the position which they occupied, both could see what passed in the garden.

The grounds were surrounded by a high wall, and were divided into shrubbery, fruit, and kitchen garden-the two former portions being alone visible from the hiding-place. A lawn of deep green hue, speckled with the russet tinge of the autumnal falling leaves, sloped gently down to the very border of the little wood that on the right divided the grass-plot from the vegetable beds, while on the left the fruits of our hap; y clime were

The orange

abundant, ripe, and tempting. tinged apple, the dark green pear, the deep blushing peach, the glowing and tempting plum, were exhaling a perfume only second to that of the pinky rose, and all that flowery and odoriferous galaxy which teems from the fertile bosom of a soil rarely equalled, and never surpassed in the world.

A gravel walk, well swept, rising midway to cast off the wet, and bordered by dotted turf and fancifully placed fragments of rock, divided the bosquet from the orchard, while at the edge of the lawn and the wood another path led to a small door, serving the purpose of what, in Spencerian parlance, would be called a postern-gate. It is perhaps a misfortune that we have become so very matterof-fact in these days, but we do certainly prove ourselves as far removed as possible from aught poetical.

"This suspense is damnable," said one of the men concealed in the piazza, in whose open countenance, manly form, and fine intellectual head, was pictured one of the noblest products of our land—a perfect English gentleman. He was not very handsome, or very young; but though passed forty, and neither an Apollo Belvidere nor an Adonis, had a certain something in his appearance, which at once won confidence and admiration from all. He was dark in countenance, and curly locks of glossy black fell over his brow.

The second actor in the scene was stout, pale, and somewhat repulsive in expression.

"It wants five minutes of six, my dear Henry, and the letter says five minutes after."

"Yes! yes! read me that villainous scrawl over again. My God! there must be some mistake; it cannot be, it shall not be."

"I said, Henry, it was a calumny from the first, and a few moments will satisfy you. But this is what the ill-written missive says," and the stout man read from a paper in his hand.

"Honered Sir: Missus is in habit of meetin anover than master every even in back gar den. This night at five minutes ater six he will be at the little gate as is seen from patza. "A FRIEND."

"Habakkuk," exclaimed the man addressed as Henry, "is not this most horrible. You know how I have loved my wife during sixteen long years; and now, with a daughter needing her care, with our only remaining child verging on to womanhood, she must e'en play me false, and make assignations with her paramour in my very garden."

"But, Henry, my dear friend, nothing is silently, a laugh which told more misery proved; this letter-" than twenty sighs, "if the lover be only as

"Well, Habakkuk," said Henry, seeing punctual, we shall have rare sport anon." that the other paused.

"Why, you know, it might, there is just a possibility of the fact-be a foul lie."

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Who, Habakkuk, would have done so foul a deed? Is there in this world a being so contemptible, so lost, so utterly fearless of the wrath of God and man as to put on paper an accusation so foul, and it not true. No! No! Habakkuk, if I thought nature had produced so vile a monstrosity, I would forswear her." Habakkuk, while Henry spoke, watched the gate intensely, now glancing at the timepiece in his hand, and now at the green and motionless door. A slight tremour, a faint colour alone betrayed the slightest emotion.

"Habakkuk! you are silent, you are convinced; and yet," exclaimed the wretched man, "have you nothing to say in her favour. Remember, she is my wife, the mother of my child. I have loved her long, Habakkuk, very long, and she has been a good wife, kind wife, a fond wife-and such a mother. Habakkuk, God! God! can it be that all this life of love and joy has but concealed such base hypocrisy."

"Calm yourself, Henry; all will yet be well, I have no doubt; be calm-the hour has struck, and a few seconds will decide all." "Be calm, you say, Habakkuk; be calm, with all the fires of hell within me; hate, jealousy, despair, wounded honour-all hope gone, life a blank; and you say be calm. My life upon a hazard of a moment; the fibres of my heart wrung to a tension which will break it or sink it in apathy for ever; go to! Habakkuk, you have no soul within you, or you would not say, be calm."

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"Compose yourself; one moment, and all will be over. See, she has Mary with herbah! Henry, women don't take their daughters to keep assignations."

"Habakkuk, you give me hope!" replied the miserable man, wringing his friend's hand violently.

When the anxious and agonised husband first bade Habakkuk look towards the gravel walk, two females had just appeared at the further extremity, the one an elegant and beautiful woman of about six and thirty, the other a lovely girl of fifteen. Both were evidently returned from a walk, and as they advanced up the path, hand in hand, their parasols negligently resting on their shoulders, their veils thrown up, and giving their rosy faces to the cool evening breeze, laughing, joking, talking in full love and confidence, they appeared rather two sisters, the eldest and youngest of the flock, than mother and daughter.

"Habakkuk, is she not beautiful-and my child-ah, God be thanked, 'tis a foul calumny."

"I hope so, my friend," replied the other calmly and laconically.

The foot of the lawn was now reached, when the mother suddenly stopped and looked at her watch.

"Just five minutes past six, I declare. Run into the house, child, and dress for dinner, don't go through the study, you will disturb your papa, I will follow you directly."

"Yes, ma!" and the lovely young creature bounded over the grass like a fawn, ran round the corner of the house, and entered it by another door.

Henry! Henry! you are unjust, very unjust; if I feel myself so strongly that I Had a serpent stung the unfortunate man, talk at random, is it to be imputed to me for the effect upon him could not have been soullessness?" more fearful than was produced by these "Forgive me, my friend, my only friend, words from the lips of his wife. His eyes my best friend, forgive me."

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appeared ready to start from his head, his cheeks grew even more deadly pale than before, his teeth were clenched, he clutched the arm of his friend convulsively as he hissed rather than whispered in his ear; "You heard that; the caution, too, not to disturb me; hell and furies, what revenge is direst?"

The wife here advanced towards the door, unbolted it, looked out, and motioned to some one in the road.

"Let me go, Habakkuk; let me go,” cried the husband. "I have seen enough."

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