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." "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 cutit; 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 recovered 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. He at the time, however, paid no attention to this fact, being occupied in preference with his fair friend. "Sir, I have very much to thank you," said the young girl, when at a short distance from the scene of action; and then recognising him as the youth who had spoken to her when giving money to the poor songster, she added, " But why have you followed me?" 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. "With green spectacles, and a very handsome cloak." "He never wears either spectacles or cloak," muttered rather than said the fair one, "and yet he is stout and pale." "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 the 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 habili ments 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. WO years and four months previous to the date of the event depicted in our last chapter, the shades of evening were falling over a scene which had so much influence upon the fortunes of all the 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 happy 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 garden. This night at five minutes ater six he will be at the little gaté 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." “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." 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." 66 '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." 'Say not a word, Henry; it will soon be over, and you will find you have other friends save me." "Hush!" whispered Henry, turning deadly pale, and pointing to the extremity of the gravel walk, "Hush! hush! Habakkuk, what is the time?" "Three minutes past six," replied Habakkuk, in a husky and constrained voice. "She keeps strictly to her hour," replied Henry, clenching his teeth aud laughing 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." "Stay!" said the other, holding with the power of a vice; "see it out. Let her infamy be evident, clear, undoubted; leave no room for after-doubt, for fear of wrong-doing, for remorse. Henry, you must go through with this." "I will! I will!" replied Henry, wiping the heavy drops of cold perspiration from his brow. "Oh, this is most damnable. Sixteen years of love, to be thus rewarded. Cockatrice, I disown you; I disavow my child-what proof is there 'tis mine?" A man here entered, and closed the doo after him. He was a foreigner, plainly but decently clad; his countenance was handsome, though a trifle careworn; and a heavy moustache gave a salient outline to features sufficiently marked of themselves. Bowing profoundly to his fair companion, who, glancing uneasily up at the piazza, hurried him away: แ 'My husband, monsieur le comte," said she, and the remaining part of the sentence was lost, as they passed down the g walk. "Enough," said Henry, trembling in every limb, "nough, enough! Habakkuk, this is horrible, very horrible: but I will be calm, very calm. Wait you here, Habakkuk; move not, stir not, but tell me what passes;" and giving his friend no time to reply, he hurried into the house, muttering, "A foreigner too! under my very nose! she that knows how I hate them, how I detest their smooth knavery. A Pole, too-the nation of rascals! My God! My God!" Habakkuk leaned back on the seat and shut his eyes. He was pale, very pale; it was clear that his excitement was scarcely less than that of his friend. He thrust his hands into his pockets, took them out again, folded his arms, and rising, leaned over the balustrade, just as a voice over head in richly musical tones sang out: "The last rose of summer is faded and gone.' Ah me! why do I feel so very sad this evening?" mean to shoot them both!" replied Henry, with a grin so demoniacal that Habakkuk started back in alarm. "Good God, Henry, you are losing your senses; rally, man alive." "Well, Habakkuk, my head is in a whirl, but it will soon be over. Is that sound the noise of their footsteps?" "Who is that talking under my window? Is it you, papa?" inquired the daughter, leaning her pretty head out of window. No answer was given, and she retired from the casement. 66 "They are coming up the walk, Henry,” said the other in a whisper, now be a man, and having seen what you have seen, prepare to act like one. Retire into the house, and when you are a little cooler, we will talk over what is to be done." "To be done! why, Habakkuk, I will turn them out of doors, mother and daughterthe dam and her offspring, cut them off from every farthing, and leave my property to my nephew." Habakkuk turned away his head, literally dumb-founded. "His nephew," muttered he; "that never struck me before." And then he added, "Hush, man, they come." As he spoke, the lady and the Polish count came upon the lawn; the stranger bowed several times, then raising the young wife's hand to his lips, kissed it respectfully, and turned to go. The report of two pistols were heard simultaneously. "My husband!" cried the young woman, falling either wounded or terrified to the ground, while the Pole stood speechless with astonishment, uncertain how to act. Habakkuk seized the arm of his friend, and led him from the scene perfectly helpless. For the moment his mind was unnerved; the act of firing the pistols once over, he was as a child in the hands of the Tempter." CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH TWO PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS ARE The hero of our tale, left to himself, thrust his hands deeply into the pockets of his Taglioni, shook his head, gazed by the light of a gas-lamp at his boots, his pants, and the I whole material of his outer man, an exami |