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which death exalts us, but before departing, a priest of the English Protestant Church, was present ready to link her in marriage with the beloved one of earth. She wore upon her spiritual brow the wreath of flowers which she had thrown to Terese. They were almost withered, but still she wore them, for their language pleased the fancies of her mind. The Hebrew Maiden was by her side, dressed in white, to give to Walter his bride of heaven. Isaac Ben Ammon was there, gazing upon the dying maiden, appearing in the scene like one of the ancients, waiting to bear a spirit above; Sir Richard Courtney was there; his sister was there; Eleanor and young De Lacy, her lover, were there; imagination must picture them; language cannot describe the state of mind of the Courtney family. Walter held his "spirit-bride" by the hand; the clergyman, with his book open, was about to begin the service. There was another present: it was Judah Nathans. But he kept himself in the back-ground, as though he felt himself not good enough for that circle-not near enough to Alice even to be her witness, but never did he in his nature so well illustrate-Not All Dross,-as at that moment.

The marriage service of the Church of England was performed. Alice and Walter were one forever.

"Until death us do part!" had no meaning in that solemn ceremony, though the form of words was used. All felt, even to the orthodox minister, that the union was one of eternity, not of time: and the phrase "Until death us do part" never sounded out of place to the Rev. Arthur Blair, until he united Alice Courtney to Walter Templar. Indeed, the Church of England divine paused when he came to the passage; and for a moment there was à silence more expressive than a book of commentaries; and when the reverend gentleman broke that silence with a voice sonorous with solemnity and uttered "Until death us do part!" a kindred thought ran through the minds of all-"Death has nought with this." That single instant gave them more light of revelation on marriage than they had ever received before. They had now met one case of a marriage for eternity.

That union of two souls, not to be separated by death, had received an earthly ceremonial form. It was a type of countless millions of such unions which we shall find hereafter in our Paradise above.

"Let the bridegroom kiss the bride! added the Rev. Arthur Blair, as he closed the ceremony.

Walter Templar kissed his bride of heaven, and wept: Terese kissed her sister bride and wept: Sir Richard and Lady Templar kissed the bride and wept; indeed, there was not an eye of any present, which was not baptized in tears. Even Judah Nathans felt that he was as in the waters of Jordan then. It is the heart more than the intellect that brings us all to the state of grace. Walter-my Walter-husband! the angels are come.' These were the first words of Alice Courtney, after the close of the ceremony. None answered, for all knew that the moments of parting were indeed come. They were silent to catch the last words of the dying maiden-wife.

"Sister Terese, the angels have come! Your hand, sister. Weep not for me,—all is well. I give you to my husband, to fill my place on earth, even as you just now gave him you love to me. Sister Terese we are not two but one in him."

And Alice Courtney joined the hands of Walter and Terese, and then continued:

"Kneel, my beloved ones, that I may be able to reach your heads. And when they knelt she said, "Sister Terese I place on your head my bridal-wreath. When the flowers are withered and dead keep them in remembrance of me. Like my spirit their perfumes will have gone to heaven. Walter, my husband, let my hands bless you."

"My wife-oh my wife! Thou art indeed my spirit-bride! It was the first time that Walter had dared to break with speech the spell of the heavenly presence after the marriage, and rapturous was the look which Alice gave her husband, when she heard from his lips, for the first time, the holy name of wife.

"Husband," she said, in a tone of ineffable love, "I shall be only just above you-only just above. My spirit shall minister to you and Terese, and shall share in all your joys. angels mingle with their dear ones on earth."

I know the

"I believe you, Alice: I believe you, my wife.'
"You will always believe that I am near you, Walter?"
"Always will I believe my bride of heaven is near me."
"And you, sister Terese?"

"I will always believe my angel-sister Alice is near me, also." "She will be near you both. But there is a cloud in your future; it has troubled me; yet I see all bright beyond it. If that

cloud should overshadow you, husband, sister, will you believe Alice near you then?" "We will!" was the simultaneous response.

"All is well; all is well," returned the maiden-wife; and then, after a moment's pause, she said in a wearied voice, as though languishing to be gone.

"Papa, kiss me; mother, kiss me!"

Sir Richard and Lady Templar, in turn, hung over their dying daughter an instant and wept again, for they knew it was the last kiss on earth.

"Sister Terese, kiss me." The arms of the brides encircled for a moment in a fond embrace. Perfect love was indeed between them. Alice fell back upon her pillow, exhaused by the effort, but recovering with a great struggle, she said: "Walter-husband! you the last!"

The bridegroom took his bride in his arms and kissed her gently, again and again, then held her to his heart for the space of five minutes, amid breathless silence, which Alice broke with her dying voice, which scarcely seemed to be a sound: "Walter, the angels are come. I am going! Only just above -just-above!"

And the spirit of the bride went only just above him! Templar held in his arms the inanimate clay.

Walter

We must pass over the first half-hour after the "fight" of the spirit of Alice Courtney, and the scene of the weeping family who stood around her bed. Judah Nathans was the first to leave the

chamber; and he went forth from that angel-presence, musing to himself in profound thought:

"I think, to-day, there is an immortality; I wish I could solve the problem!"

Such was the state of that strange man's mind. To-day, he thought there is an immortality; to-morrow, perhaps he would doubt again. Yet Judah Nathans was traveling towards a state of faith.

The ministering care of friends for the beautiful tabernacle of the departed one was performed, while the angels were ministering to a spirit new born into their sphere.

At length, Walter Templar was alone with his dead-dead! Ohi not dead, but more abundantly living. All that night, he remained alone with her feeling in close communion with her spirit. To him, her presence was as palpable as before. All that night, she seemed with him. Indeed, he had never felt her influence and presence as much as then. Her very being was suddenly blended with his own being. His soul went out of him into her, and her soul took up a new abode in him. They were one more than though she had remained on earth-one, not in flesh, but in soul. He realized her own beautiful views of spirit-blending from the sphere above into the sphere of earth. Heaven and earth were married that night in those two.

Thus spent Walter Templar his nuptual night in holy communion with his "spirit-bride;" and when he went forth from her chamber in the morning, he said to the bereaved parent: "Father, my bride is gone only just above me!"

CHAPTER LIII.

MIDNIGHT BEFORE DAY.

Nine months have fled since the death of Alice Courtney. Her mortai remains were embalmed and brought to England where she was sepulchred with her race. The first grief of her family has subsided into a holy remembrance of the sainted dead. They deemed that to mourn for her would trouble her gentle spirit in her home of peace. It is more fit that we lament over the unblessed, than over our angels who have gone before us, to prepare our way to be as ministering spirits to us and perchance to plead often to the Angel of Mercy in our behalf. There is a profound philosophy in the Catholic notion of the intercession of the Saints, which our own faith continues, at least, in one case:

“Mingling with Gods, he can plan for his brethren”

This intercessional and ministering agency of those whom we term the "dead" in behalf of the living of earth, who are more properly the dead, is perhaps more universal than we deem. And so the Courtney family, thus impressed by the beautiful termination of Alice's mortal life, looked up to her, not as dead, but as their ministering spirit in her sphere "just above."

Hence, Sir Richard Courtney and his family had already begun to prepare to carry out the intentions of Alice in the consummation of the union between Walter Templar and Terese Ben Ammon. Moreover, Courtney and his sister were desirous to accomplish the union between Eleanor and Frederick De Lacy. There was, too, the redemption of the De Lacy estates close in the prospective, and Sir Richard and Lady Templar were now overjoyed to see their

hopes of twenty years so near fulfillment. There were, therefore, so many reasons for the immediate marriage of Eleanor with Frederick De Lacy, and Walter with Terese, that six weeks from the date of our present chapter the grand wedding was arranged to take place.

Judah Nathans, the sceptic and the man of evil-for, with his strange perversion of mind, he still persisted in thus classifying himself he had resolved to clear the mortgage from the De Lacy estates that his niece might present the canceled bond to her husband on her wedding day. Sir Herbert Blakely's agent, Lawyer Wortley, had been duly notified by Judah, who had also written to his former master whom he had too well served. Indeed, Walter Templar had been for the last three weeks in London with Terese's uncle and Lawyer Wortley, to settle the De Lacy affairs. A singular circumstance connected with the matter was that Sir Herbert Blakely had accepted the new situation, and had written to his lawyer, authorizing him to conclude the business in his behalf, on a certain date, providing he himself had not returned to England at that date. He said in his letter that, notwithstanding his great disappointment and rage at first, he knew that what "Snap" had resolved as a necessity, he would accomplish; and, therefore, there was left to himself no alternative but to bow to that necessity. He, however, was profuse in his reproaches against his ancient mentor, whom, he observed, had betrayed both him and his father. So far, all this seemed genuine, and the date named by Sir Herbert was the day fixed upon for the redemption of the De Lacy estates with or without the presence of Blakely. That date was one week before the marriage of Walter and Terese, which had been arranged accordingly. But had Judah Nathans known that Sir Herbert's letter had been written in England, though sent to Italy to be posted, he would have understood that his former master was about to play some treacherous part, and the dark sequel of our story would not have been now to come.

The departing spirit of Alice Courtney had forseen the dark cloud in the future of Walter and Terese, before the bursting of the refulgent sun. The fulfillment is near; it is now the "midnight before day." This is so generally found true in our common experience that the fact has given rise to a familiar proverb: It does oftentimes seem that the very fiends are at work most vigorously just at the point where our happiness is to be consummated. How often does the home-bound sailor get wrecked on his native shores. But then, this is all simple enough in its explanation. It is because he is nearer the rocks of his native land, instead of far out in the deep ocean, where it is always safest to be in a treacherous storm. Sir Herbert Blakely and the De Lacy estates were Walter Templar's rocks; and he was nearer upon them because he was nearer to his shore. This fact made his "midnight before day." Will any of the characters of our story be wrecked upon those rocks? CHAPTER LIV.

THE SUPPLANTER AT WORK.

There was a lone inn on the London road between Bath and Sherbourne, about twenty-five miles from Courtney House. Turning off about two miles below, a horseman journeying to Sir Richard's mansion would find his shortest way through an unfrequented English forest which was just the place for a dark deed. The Bath and Weymouth coaches were in the habit of stopping at that inn for their changes of horses, and the landlord had received instructions from Sir Richard Courtney to have ready on the afternoon of the 10th of November, 1824, two of his best horses for gentlemen on their way from London. The keeper of that inn was Jacob Blakely, a plebeian first-cousin of Sir Herbert Blakely, though the relationship in society had been somewhat ignored.

On the afternoon of this tenth of November, two horsemen muffled in cloaks, entered the coachyard of the "Dragon's Head"the sign of the inn They dismounted and entered. The landlord who seemed to expect them, showed them into a little back parlor. One of the horsemen was an Italian, the other an English"Jacob," observed the Englishman to the landlord as he threw off his cloak and laid his pistols on the table, is all prepared?'' "Yes, Sir Herbert."

man.

"And the men whom I dispatched here?"

"Yes, Sir Herbert; and six more villainous-looking rascals I never saw."

"They better suit my purpose, then. Bid them here at once for their orders, for Sir Walter Templar and his companion are not more than an hour's ride from the ina. Is my carriage also ready, blinds down, chains fixed to bind our man, for he will be like a lion caged;-in short, is all ready?”

"I have myself attended to every thing, Sir Herbert."

"Then show these villainous cut-throats in. They should cut his throat," Blakely added to his companion, after the landlord had departed, "but that I have a sweeter morsel of revenge in store." "My friend, the blood-letting is the better way to rid yourself forever of your enemy," observed the Italian.

"What, Orsini, do you not better understand revenge? Sir Walter Templar shall rot in the dungeon of De Lacy castle. Will it not be better than sunlight to your eyes to see him in that dark dungeon with but a little flickering lamp to show him the misery of his years of captivity, for such it shall be to him. I swear it by the iron will of my father."

"I confess your view is pleasant, Blakely. I would give much to see him daily rage in that dungeon of your castle, for I have not forgotten the humbling Sir Walter Templar gave me before my companions in Rome"

"Aye, by the fiend, that castle shall be mine yet. I will strike the very name of De Lacy from it. I will be Templar's jailor, though it should cost me the rest of my days to do him this service. But he will rot;-he will rot: two years at most, and his carcass will be food for the rats in his dungeon. But hist! here come our men. On with our masks, Orsini.”

The six ruffians entered and crowded around the table, almost filling the room. The landlord placed a decanter of brandy on the table and left.

"Well, my men, are you all ready," asked Sir Herbert Blakely. "We are," replied their leader.

Let

"Then let five of you away to the old lodge in the forest. the other be at the cross roads with the carriage. Two hours hence the work must be done. It will be then just about dark. I and my friend will follow our men. We will keep a little out of sight, until just before they reach the old lodge, when we will put spurs to our horses and in a moment be to your assistance. Come, drink, but not too deeply, for remember you have no lamb to play with to-night."

"There is a purse-fifty guinias for each. To-morrow morning Six months hence the dose shall be you shall have the like sum. repeated, if you hold your tongues; if you don't, they will bring you all to the gallows. Now, be off with you."

In another minute, Count Orsini and Sir Herbert were alone, when the Italian observed:

"It is lucky that Farinelli is with Sir Walter Templar." "You are right, Orsini, for all the suspicion of foul play will rest upon him. They are known to have been once rivals; and we will let the other be known that Farinelli attempted to assassinate his rival in the old monastry at Rome."

"Yes, Blakely, the jealous Donna Clara must be brought in to reveal that part. I left her in a towering rage, last night, when I told her that Farinelli was about to leave London, to visit Terese at Courtney House; and when Sir Walter is missing, it will be easy to pursuade the prima donna that he put him out of the way to make the prize his own. I hate Farinelli as much for spoiling my game with Donna Clara Garcia, as I do Templar for defeating me in the duel."

"Well, we shall have revenge on them both, Orsini. I have no cause against the foster-brother, but I will profit by the former advice of my old mentor. Yes, Snap was wise. Farinelli was chosen well by him to bear my part in his own, and if I can keep my connection with this night's work, and my presence in England hid from him, all will be as I would have it. Snap would not betray me and my dead father, but for the greater necessity as he calls it of the marriage with his niece. But Templar out of the way, and that necessity will be gone; and the De Lacy estates will still be mine."

Soon afterwards, Sir Walter Templar and Farinelli galloped up to the door of the "Dragon's Head," and lept from their foaming steeds. We need scarcely say that there was perfect good will between these two men who have played principal parts in our story. On Walter's side, he had ever regarded the foster-brother with friendly feeling; and his respect for him was not lessened by his over-jealous care for Terese. In fact, he also knew of his morbid love and the peculiar position which Isaac Ben Ammon had brought him into; but, as Farinelli was the first to withdraw from the proposed misalliance and return to his old relations of foster-brother, Terese and Walter treated him with the same consideration as before. There was one circumstance, however, that Farinelli had hid: it was his attempt to kill our hero in the ruined monastry. Well would it have been for the fosterbrother had he confessed all, for it would have helped to clear him from the suspicion of the dark deed which Sir Herbert Blakely had resolved to saddle upon him.

Our hero and the foster-brother entered the lone inn together, having first committed their horses to the care of the hostler and

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ordered fresh ones to be ready in half an hour. They were both on their way to Courtney House, to which Farinelli had been invited to spend a few weeks with his foster-sister, before her marriage, and to stay till after the wedding. This was done out of tender regard for the young man and to reconcile him by generous treatment to the sacrifice which he had made of his own hopes to secure the happiness of his foster-sister.

In half an hour, our hero and his companion refreshed by rest and generous fare, were again in the coachyard of the "Dragon's Head.' A moment afterwards, they were in their saddles, mounted on fresh steeds.

“And now, Farinelli, for a twenty-five mile ride in the dark," said Sir Walter. "I love a ride by night. Away, my friend." "I am with you, Sir Walter."

And away dashed the young men; but scarcely had they gone, when Sir Herbert and Count Orsini were standing by their own fleet steeds.

"Jacob, is your son George with the carriage?" "Yes, Sir Herbert."

"Can he be fully trusted, Jacob? for we must dispense with those ruffians when our man is secured. They must not know me nor where Sir Walter Templar is taken. Can George be trusted?" "You forgot, cousin Herbert, that we are interested as much as yourself in your holding the estates."

"Curse you, I had forgotten that you had a tongue to blab of your relations. Yes, you and George inherit after me, so I may trust you both."

"You may trust us, cousin Herbert," retorted Jacob Blakely with a grim smile.

Sir Herbert and Count Orsini again masked, for as it was now dark, there was no fear of their meeting any one on the road. The caution was merely to preserve them from being recognized by Sir Walter Templar and the ruffians in their execution of the work close at hand. The two plotters now galloped off at full speed to the performance of their night's business. The plan was to separate Farinelli from his companion; and, after detaining him for a few hours a prisoner, to let him go unhurt to carry the news to Courtney House that suspicion might afterwards fall upon him, while Sir Walter Templar was to be hurried off to the dungeon of De Lacy castle.

CHAPTER LV.

TOO MANY FOR HIM.

Sir Walter Templar and the foster-brother had turned off into the road through the forest of which we have spoken, and soon they heard the clatter of horses hoofs behind them. They had at first however no thought that they were pursued, for they heard but the sound of two horses in the distance. Other horsemen might lawfully be on the road as well as they, and even if aught sinister was in the circumstance, Walter felt that he and his companion were a match for any two: his bold spirit was nothing daunted. But as they came in sight of the ruins of the lodge in the forest he thought he saw figures moving in the front, for the moon was shining brightly out.

"Farinelli, look to your pistols" he said. "There may be danger abroad. I see figures of men moving in the distance, and the horsemen behind are gaining upon us. Gallop boldly onward but be ready."

"I am in no way alarmed, Sir Walter," was the reply. Our hero and his companion attempted to pass the lodge at a gallop, but the six ruffians threw themselves across the road, and the horses suddenly finding themselves as facing a wall of masked men, reared on their haunches in fright. Had not the movement been so unexpected, and the horses thus terrified, Sir Walter and his companion would have fired and broken through the robbers, as he at first took them to be. The ruffians siezed upon the reins of the affrighted steeds, and the riders had no power to defend themselves to advantage, though they fired, but without any deadly effect. By this time, Blakely and Orsini were upon the spot, when Sir Herbert, without speaking, shot Templar's horse in the head, for he readily recognized our hero from his companion by his towering form. Walter and his dead steed fell together. Three of the ruffians busied themselves in capturing Farinelli, whom they bore unhurt to the lodge, thus separating him from his friend. Sir Walter, in the meantime, disengaging himself, sprang to his feet and prepared to use the butt of his heavy horse-pistol. The ruffians hovered around him irresolute, for they saw they had no common man to deal with.

"Fools, sieze him." said Sir Herbert in a rage, seeing this irresolution, thus incautiously betraying himself.

"Ha. You!" ejaculated Templar. Then I understand it all.

271

Thus saying, our hero sprang upon the leader of the ruffians and felled him to the earth. In another instant he was grappling with the other two.

A few words from the Italian, advising Blakely to shoot Templar, told who was the other mysterious personage.

"You, too, Count Orsini!" observed Walter, as he caught up one of the ruffians and hurled him over his head, in true English fashion, and then, with his fist, he sent the other reeling to the ground by a mighty blow from his iron-fibered fist. But before he could profit by the advantage, two from the lodge, who had bound Farinelli with cords, siezed upon our hero, while a blow on the head from Sir Herbert's life-preserver brought Templar senseless upon the ground.

"Bind and gag him, my men," said Blakely in a tone of satisfaction at the capture. "Then look to your comrades." "Our leader is dead," said one of the men. "His skull is broken," he added.

The one whom Templar had thrown over his head was fearfully bruised, and groaning at a few yards distance, while the other arose bewildered by the blow given him, but muttering curses. "Away with our man to the carriage while he is senseless, and take your leader afterwards to the inn. If he is dead, his booty is yours."

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"Ay, ay, your honor," one of the ruffians replied to the command of their employer, and then they bore Sir Walter Templar to the carriage.

They found George Blakely (the son of the inn-keeper) at the cross roads with the carriage, ready to start on his journey. It was about a quarter of a mile from the spot where the capture had been made, and which they reached by cutting across the forest. Sir Walter was still senseless when the ruffians laid him in the carriage, to which they chained him with the chains which had been fixed on purpose.

"That will do, my men," said Sir Herbert. "Now return to the forest. Let a portion of your number carry to the inn the body of your leader, and see that he is safely buried before the morning. At midnight, let the other stranger go, and be sure that he is unharmed, without as much as a bruise. Touch not his watch nor his purse; but estimate their value, and I will pay the amount extra to the promised reward of this night's work. If, at one in the morning, you are all at the inn, there will be the other fifty pounds each for you, with the share of your dead leader. If one of you is missing, there will be nothing. I will have no spies on my actions or course."

"All right, your honor," said he who now took the lead of the ruffians.

"And now away, my men. But stop a moment. Be sure you reload the pistols of this gentleman whom we have caged, and put them in the holsters of the saddle of his dead mare, so that it might seem that both the horse and its rider have been shot before assistance could be made: shot by his companion-do you understand."

Ay, ay! your honor; a brave plot. The suspicion will then all rest upon him.

"Exactly. Be discreet, and in six months from to-night, call at the Inn and there shall be another fifty guinias each for you. Quick, away with you all."

"Blakely, that is well arranged," observed Orsini, as soon as the hired ruffians were out of hearing.

"I think so, Orsini. All the lawyers in England will not clear Farinelli from this scrape. He will be charged with murder and hung; but that is no concern of mine."

"Not in the least, Blakely; but I must set Donna Clara Garcia on his track. She must be made to think that Farinelli has put Sir Walter Templar out of his way, to marry Terese. I know what a jealous Spanish woman will do: Revenge herself." "And now, Orsini, we must be off, to reach my castle before the morning."

"You are right; so into the carriage, Blakely."

In another minute they were dashing towards the De Lacy castle.

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