She lay upon her knees, but raised her head, and turning it over her shoulder, cast a longing glance to the bedroom, the entrance to which was concealed by a thick curtain. It was fearful to behold

ber stretching forth her hand, as if she expected to grasp his.

Morton's knees trembled, and her whole frame shuddered. She was free from the weakness, so common at that period, of believing in appparitions; but she had loved the noble duke, and the recollections which these rooms awakened, opened her grief afresh. She understood her mistress's sufferings, and had too much respect to disturb her by attempting to offer consolation.

But she could not reflect on the end of such deep and consuming sorrow, without fear and apprehension. She looked at the duchess: the expression of her face was softened, and her tearful eye was animated by sorrowful tenderness. Her silent expectation was vain: the curtain did not move; a deep sigh only met her ear, and she rose from the ground. She advanced a few steps, and stood by the side of her trembling attendant, whom she had quite forgotten, and from whom proceeded the sigh which had aroused her lady from her reverie in the world of spirits.

The short dream in which she had indulged being now ended, the real truth returned yet more painfully to her memory; for a yearning was awakened in her mind, and the irretrievable necessity of bearing her existance without him whom she loved, struck in its full force upon this passionate and untamed spirit. Weeping bitterly, she sank upon a chair; and her heart in vain tried to attain patience and resignation. Her feelings were now quite at variance with those which had led to her prayer in the chapel; and what now reached God out of her erring heart, found, we hope, grace before that Judge who looks down with compassion on the sorrows of his earthly creatures.

Morton regarded her agitation long and silently, till the last call of the watch from the tower announced that it was past midnight. Her courage, which had been entirely depressed by this nocturnal visit, and which had been overwhelmed by dread of its consequences on the mind of her mistress, returned when she saw her tears. Approaching her, she gently requested her to return, and not to

risk her health any longer in these rooms.

The duchess withdrew

her cold hands from her face at this unwelcome warning, and a frown appeared on her forehead, as she replied:

"I give you leave to turn back, since this holy place appears to you so full of dangers. I can do what I want without you; in fact, better than I shall do if any cold admonitions interrupt my holy feelings. Leave me I will take care of you, as you do of me. Go, then, since you wish it, for thus I interpret your words."

"Oh! I pity you for being so unhappy as to mistake me so cruelly," cried Mistress Morton sorrowfully, but without expressing displeasure; and her hot tears flowed over the cold hands of the duchess, and touched her with a feeling of repentance. Being now aroused from her grief, she remembered the object of her visit; and rising slowly, she said, while her tears ceased to flow,

The purpose for which I came here lies beyond your province : therefore your remonstrances weary me more than your good intentions serve me. Be resigned to my will; in that way you assist me the most. Light this taper, then leave the room, and wait for me in the adjoining hall. I hope," added she slowly, and breathing with difficulty-"I hope that I shall soon be able to follow you. If you do not see me in half an hour, come to me; perhaps I shall require your assistance."

Mistress Morton lighted a half-consumed wax taper which stood upon the table, and which, in happier days, had illuminated the now gloomy room; this she gave to the duchess, who, wrapped in her cloak, stood silent and still in the middle of the apartment, and then left her.

The decisive moment was now arrived. "I am satified with myself I am firm," was the unuttered expression of her manner and her steps. She turned towards the curtain, drew it hastily aside, and entered the little bedroom. This was in the form of a rotunda, and the only ornament was the beautiful wood carving of the walls. All that was requisite for a sleeping apartment was placed in a recess, separated from the rest of the room by a carved panelling, in which a door was concealed. The duchess found the spring by which this was opened, touched it, and instantly the wall

divided. The dark silk curtains of the bed waved towards her: she pressed her hand to her heart, and stood breathless, until they resumed their stillness.

She saw that she was quite alone: the curtain was not raised, as it used to be, and she shrank back, as if unable to proceed further; but collecting all her courage, and placing the taper upon the dressing-table, she clasped her hands, whilst she said in a low voice

"I repeat it once more, to thee, my husband, I am come to thee to forgive thee; for thy honour is holy to me. And all who belonged to thee, shall be acknowledged by me, as if thou hadst requested it. Hear me! No oath is more inviolable than the resolution which my love has wrung from my pride-to forgive thee. This will reach thee; and when thy heart, laden with this guilt, appears before the throne of thy Judge, then let thy wife's forgiveness be the intercession for thine, and thus be peace to thy spirit."

She became herself again. The victory was gained, and peace to her troubled mind: all her earthly and proud feelings lay came trampled under her feet.

"So be it!" said she, after a pause. She turned round, and approached the opposite wall. A beautiful wreath of flowers was *here carved on the panelling, and in the centre of one of the roses was a little golden spring. She touched it: the panel opened, displaying a picture, in a golden frame, of the size of.life.

It represented a young lady of angelic beauty, and so lifelike, that the smile on her lips seemed as if going to break into words. In the background of the figure were myrtles and orange-flowers, forming a bower around her, and leaving above her head the pure blue heaven, from which the light streamed upon the wreath of roses, ornamenting the dark shining curls which fell in waves upon her shoulders. Her robe was of the purest white; while a purple mantle, fastened upon her shoulders with jewels, descended to her feet. She bore in her beautiful hand a fantastically formed staff, resembling partly a cross and partly a sceptre, with lilies and ivy entwined around it.

The picture was a masterpiece of art, and yet whoever looked

at it forgot the merit of the painter. It seemed, to the unprejudiced observer, only a worthy representation of a being on whom nature had lavished her most brilliant gifts, and to whom she had given a soul which sent an angel's greeting out of her eyes.

This enchanting picture was uncovered, but the eyes of the duchess still remained fixed on the ground. At length she raised them, drew herself up, and looked steadfastly upon it. The sight caused her even more bitter grief than she had previously felt, but the magic was so powerful that she could not withdraw her eyes. "And you have also deceived me!" she exclaimed at last. there remains no doubt that there is another like thee. So God be gracious to me! Yet I forgive thee-I forgive thee! Hear me, God, and forgive him also!"

"Yes,

She looked once more at this lovely figure, which in vain smiled upon her grave face. She then recollected herself, and seizing the light, she left the room, hastening through the adjoining apartment, without looking back, as if she feared to lose her strength. She opened the door which led into the hall, and passed Mistress Morton, who followed her trembling.

"You are cold," said she to her: "let us hasten; it is chilly; morning is near, and we have been quite long enough in the cold morning air.”

She hastened on, endeavouring to appear composed, and forgetting that the trembling of the light showed how much she was agitated. But this did not escape Mistress Morton's observation, though she did not make any remark upon it, as she knew that the proud lady did not wish that her agitation should be observed. After proceeding some distance, the duchess, not hearing Morton's step, turned ronnd. The attendant displayed her own lamp; and the lady, perceiving her mistake, relaxed her grasp of the taper which she held, and gave it to her. Morton hurried back with the taper, and then followed the duchess through the long gloomy gallery, which no moon now enlightened, and the stillness of which no word interrupted: nothing was heard but the opening and shutting of the doors, and the rustling of the long dresses on the oaken floors.

CHAPTER VIII.

The stranger lady had, meanwhile, a very strong desire to make the duchess acquainted with the particulars of her past life. Her previous interview with this distinguished woman had opened to her that prospect of boundless confidence for which she so ardently longed; while her own high character prevented her from feeling that embarrassment which the duchess so easily created in others, and which prevented the full perception of her superiority.

In the company of the younger ladies of the house, she felt herself diverted from the horror which had seized her, and she gave herself up to the harmless amusements which were carried on amongst them. Her mind was too well-ordered not to wish to be freed from its present confusion: she hoped to be able to see things more clearly, in trying to explain them to others. The expression of the duchess, in referring to her birth and innocence, had destroyed the unconsciousness of youth on these points: it had taught her to apply to herself what she had formerly heard said by others, and which would certainly be sufficient to place these points beyond all doubt. No sooner had she perceived this, than her mind was busily occupied in arranging the history of her early years—a task comparatively easy, as, in tender youth, the most prominent events begin and end with the affectionate intercourse of relations and tutors. This was the first time that she had reflected on her own life. Her memory was refreshed, and the more she pondered, the more strange it appeared to her. Contradictions, and inexplicable things, now struck her, which she was ashamed to meet. Perfect confidence in those ́around her had hitherto saved her from these reflections; and she felt herself called, whilst very unprepared, to give an account, which her sense of honour made her judge necessary; though at the same time she could not hide from her clear-sighted mind that difficulties and enigmas would arise. The conviction of the necessity of an explanation with the duchess had excited her fear, and at the same time had increased her wish for it; for she thought she should hear