Too truly was he conscious of having formed the old man's acquaintance under that which he and his American companions would call a ruse, laughing at it together and enjoying it most heartily, but which, under the doctrine just laid down by his intended father-in-law, must, he knew, be deemed an offence of scarlet die, a breach of the truth of the first magnitude.

He sat, therefore, feeling and knowing that he was a culprit, condemned though not indicted, and much did he rejoice that he had so skilfully withheld from the father's knowledge all means of detecting the trick that had been played on

him.

In this, Herbert somewhat overlooked the powers of acute vision which the other possessed. Dim and dark as the light might be, the old man fancied he could trace some unusual agitation in the countenance of his listener, and, therefore, ventured to add the caution which he now uttered. Still, though it did not occur to him that Herbert might not in times past have been quite so scrupulous in these matters as could have been desired, yet it never even glanced across his mind that in the present case there existed any circumstances of deception, and therefore, after the digression already stated, the father continued.

"In the proposal you have just made, you have very properly given me a full account, not only of your present position, but also of your whole prospects, and detailed to me exactly everything that it is necessary for me to consider with reference to the welfare of my child; it will only be becoming, therefore, in me fully to explain to you the decision at which I have arrived, and the reasons which have guided me in that decision; and this also involves some slight sketch of my own history."

But before we proceed any farther with the narrative in which the old gentleman here indulged, we will treat him decently, and commence a new chapter.

CHAPTER XV.

"Her father oft invited me

Still questioned me the story of my days.

I ran it through-e'en from my boyhood's hour."

Othello. As the recluse finished the last words which we have recorded in his speech to Herbert, he gave a heavenly smile, so our hero thought, when, addressing him for the first time as "My young friend," and casting a scrutinizing glance at the bottle, added, "The tide is at the ebb, I perceive, and I think this occasion of import sufficient to merit a glass of the truest Burgundy that ever bore the sentence of transportation beyond the seas without the slightest reproach to its moral character."

Herbert muttered something intended for an assent, and his host departed.

"I think the old boy means to accept me," said he; "this bottle of the choice!-looks wondrously like a consent. Ah! here it comes—one of the right sort."

And certainly, in verification of Herbert's assertion, the father now returned, bearing in his hand one of those agreeable, long-necked-looking flasks, venerable if only from the dust that covered it, and promising a cordial satisfaction of a degree that even the esteemed and learned author of Ion might approve.*

The cobwebs having been duly and tenderly detracted, the cork was at length withdrawn, the contents found richly to answer the expectations of the host, and the latter then proceeded. "Before I enter into any explanation of my own position, let me do you this justice: I once had occasion to remark on some little trait of curiosity you exhibited, but since then I must, in all truth, admit that the discretion you have shown on this point has pleased me highly; nor do L even now intend to enter at length upon circumstances of my former life, which are, and ever must be, most distressing for me to recall; let this suffice, I am the last representative of an old English family. Everything, apparently, that could render life enjoyable, waited on my advent into this world, and now what is the result? few more miserable creatures still linger in existence. The only consolation of which my sorrows are susceptible is this, that to my own folly or vice is attributable no part of the grief under which I live. Family sorrows of the most distressing kind overclouded all my prospects, and before manhood had reached its prime, life, and all that it contained, were hateful to me in the highest degree.

"Towards my fellow-men I had always conceived I had a duty of great kindness and sympathy to discharge. I have taught myself to look. on every mourner as an afflicted brother of the same vast family, and to the best of my ability L trust that I have relieved them accordingly. How has this been returned to me? Ingratitude of the most bitter and overwhelming description was my payment! Had this been the general and sole return, I trust I was too good a Christian to have allowed it to move my wrath-I was too great a philosopher to be taken by surprise. But the chief blow 1 received was from the hand of one who should have shielded me to the utmost. I had just strength of mind sufficient to forbear from taking my own existence, so necessary to. the protection of my child; and then, horrorstricken at the nature of which I was a part, the nature of mankind, and deeply disgusted with the world, and all that appertained to it, I determined to seek some lonely spot where, as far as practicable, not even the slightest remembrance of my species or my wo should unnecessarily intrude upon my recollection.

"In England, from the state of society and other causes, this was impossible. To France and Italy I had strong aversions; the laxity of principle in both countries was the last danger to which I should wish to expose a daughter, whom my death might leave an orphan at an early age. In the wilds of America I well knew I might find a retreat as impervious as if I had sought the depths of the ocean: its distance, too, from the scene of my sorrows gratified my abhorrence of the slightest reminiscence of anything connected with them. For the political doctrines prevalent in the United States I had, it is true, little taste; but sorrowful experience had taught me that all politics contain alike the same intense selfishness and villany, and the only question is, who are the parties most able by force or cunning to cheat, rob, and oppress their adversaries.

"To America, then, I came, and here I have lived with my only child, and one or two servants, on whom I could rely. The resources I possessed for amusement in my own mind were, I well knew, perfectly adequate to every occain a little journal of travel by Mr. Sergeant Talfourd, though See divers researching disquisitions on various wines, I believe printed for private use only. D

1

sion, even of the greatest solitude. I had only one duty to perform on earth, and that was, not to secure the happiness of my daughter-he who talks of securing the happiness of any one in this world is a fool, either unable to extract the truth from the great moral lesson constantly passing around us, or a knave, who, knowing the precise position in which we are placed, has some secret object to serve by misrepresenting it.

"Well, then, I knew that to secure her happiness was impossible; the few first indispensable requisites for tranquillity were, I knew, already. in her possession-health, a sufficiency of means, and an untainted mind. That which I had myself gone through told me that these might still leave their possessor steeped to the very lips in misery. Had my religion permitted it, I should most unhesitatingly have deprived her of life-" Herbert gave a sudden start; which, however, the old man did not notice, but proceeded-" and after this have resigned the fearful burden from my own shoulders. But as this, the greatest boon I would confer, was not properly within my power, I disdained, as I trust we both ever shall disdain, the attainment of a supposed good by a present act of conscious impropriety; and all that remained for me was to guard her as much as possible from every inroad which, sooner or later, unhappiness is sure to make to a greater or less extent on every human heart.

Since, then, no prayers and no reason of mine would be sufficient to transfer to her the fruit of that experience I have bought so dearly; since nothing would avail to prevent her seeking the vortex of human passion and human suffering, or to render her happy and contented even by the seclusion which would keep her safe, my duty it became to launch this frail and tender bark on this tempestuous sea in such a manner, and with such a pilot as should-not save her from the storm-that is impossible, but enable her to feel the gale as lightly as might be, and to ensure her reaching some sheltering haven at the last.

"But how was I to accomplish this? To no one could so sacred and so serious a duty be delegated. To ensure the full accomplishment of my hopes, it would be necessary that I should introduce my daughter to the world; that I, who had forsworn the throng should again be one of its idle bustlers; that I, who had already been shipwrecked upon its shoals, should once more court its treacherous perils; that I, who had so much cause to sicken in disgust from the least worldly of society's arts and hollowness, should, in my old age, turn flatterer of this very sect, court to be admitted to their bosoms, sue to be advantaged by their smiles, share in their objects, and support, by my presence, the mockery exhibited!

"Yet this would become necessary to my plans, nor, view them as I would, could I doubt the sound wisdom on which those plans were based. More and more every day, I shrank from the dreadful task I had imposed upon myself: the more I contemplated such a sacrifice, the more agonizing did I feel convinced it must prove. I strove to reconcile my spirit to the struggle, but the bitterness with which I contemplated leaving this seclusion for the turmoil of the world, it is impossible to describe."

CHAPTER XVI.

"The day drags through, though storms keep out the sun; And thus the heart will break, yet, brokenly, live on." Childe Harold.

"I now considered how this object was to be accomplished, and this led me to examine minutely in what quarter sorrow would be most likely to assail her. Let our reason be cultivated to any extent, be it originally of whatever strength it may, I knew by sad experience that the heart is the weak postern which betrays the garrison to the enemy. Could I have interdicted my daughter from marriage, I should most certainly have done so; by remaining single she would not only be exempt in a great degree from some of the severest trials of the human heart, but would also fail to increase our accursed progeny, and therefore would also fail to swell the number of those who are born for little else than the endurance of evil. But this I knew I could not achieve. Those who, either in their own instance or in that of their children, imagine "In the midst of this struggle," continued Mr. they can bid the heart forget to love, or, failing St. John, "you arrived. The scene of your relove, to feel no aching void, longing for its ex- ception I need not recall. It will suffice to tell istence, are guilty of the same absurdity as the you what passed in my mind when I heard the maniac who should ask the sun and moon to re-account you gave of that mistake which made verse their orbits, or the current of the human blood to circulate by the veins and return to the heart by the arteries. Those immutable laws which the Author of nature has stamped upon his creations will give way to no human will, however despotic in its control, or even just in its desires. I saw that my child was daily growing into beauty; I felt that the winter of my own years was growing close at hand; I found that nature had gifted Nautila with feelings more than answering, if possible, to the exquisite promise of her countenance; and to imagine that any person gifted with those large, expressive eyes could fail to experience the tyranny of the affections in their fullest extent, was most vain. The very intellect which they bespoke told me how additionally every sorrow would be aggravated by the fineness and susceptibility of mind on which it would react, and how readily she would decide upon this solemn truth, that the bitterest of all actual calamities is, after all, light in the balance when compared with those unsatisfied desires with which the disappointed ever affiict themselves..

you force a violent entry into my dwelling. Men who have long lived secluded from the world are apt to adopt strange principles, and act upon doctrines which, if gravely propounded to mankind, many would hold to be eccentric, some even insane. For my own part, I confess I am always inclined to adopt rules of action which I may have justified to myself by seeing that they were simply original, while to others, who may judge more sternly, they may have seemed to wear the air of insanity.

"Whatever I do, I do quickly; and whatever resolution I may form, it is a rule of my life never to alter it. Three exceptions I have made to this, and each individual change was for the worst. I will now tell you what occurred to me on our meeting. I first thought your whole story was a lie; but this, on consideration, I saw great reason to think incorrect, partly from the completeness with which your tale and your conduct tallied in every particular, and partly because I read in your countenance a nature not expressly given to lying.

"Having once arrived at this conclusion, I first uncounted kisses, not, by-the-way, the first confess your bold defiance pleased me. All that theft of the kind by many hundred, which he had I sought in a son-in-law was a particular kind committed in the same quarter, for kissing-let of character of my own fancying. In your cour-me, as a lawyer, honestly confess it-is the most age and audacity, I traced the ability to protect "cumulative" offence with which my studies those who should be committed to your care; in have ever made me acquainted. The theory of your countenance, I thought I could read the the crime appears delightful in the extreme; honour and principle which would guard sacred- what the practice may be, I know not-of course. ly any trust reposed in you; and in your person and manner that which would be sufficient to attract and render permanent the affections of woman-if such a thing can be!

Ir any of my readers should have passed through life without enjoying that period generally vouchsafed to the existence of the meanest, in which we experience the sensations of consuming love, pure in its design, requited by its object, and, for a time, rejoicing in the smiles of fate, what a most brilliant passage of existence is yet in store for him! if within the large circle With equal kindness and delicacy the father of forty years, and if frozen out beyond that peforbore, for a brief time, to restrain by his socie-riod, when the snows of manhood are fast falling ty the happy meeting of the lovers. Herbert, as on the heart, how utterly inestimable has been he closed the door, perceived how the case stood, his loss! and fearing no interruption, sprang towards Nautila, and clasping her tenderly in his arm, stole

paradise-all that the most refined voluptuary self taken by surprise, so useless are those les-can seek of pleasure-everything and all are re- sons which ask us to be wise, however frequent alized in that burning delirium-prosperous love.ly they may be repeated. Truer words were never breathed than those used to commence a page some few chapters

back.

"Oh, love, young love, bound in thy rosy chain, Let sage or cynic prattle as he will,

These hours, and only these, redeem life's years of ill." It has been said that then "the moments fly. Away! Love has no moments: Time is annihilated, the sun sets or rises, the moon grows full or pales; every change is but a renewal of fresh joy; the only note of time the heart can take is by the separations which knell their sorrows on it; then life itself is but a blank, and everything is suspended till the renewal of that presence when the same intoxicating existence begins anew.

At the close of one of the most lovely days that it is possible for nature to grant, or human being to enjoy, Herbert had returned, in a perfect transport of delight, from one of those long and delicious rides in which he was intrusted with the care of Nautila's safety, and she became his guide for the purpose of pointing out to him everything worthy of observation in the neigh bourhood. Little dreaming of any danger at hand, our hero, as he had always heretofore done, renewed his dress for dinner, and hurried down to the table.

It struck him once or twice that some addition-al gloom appeared upon the old man's brow; but, in the fulness of his own joy, he scarcely tried to notice whether he were correct in this observation or not. The evening passed as all its de

played, strolled in the starlight, and finally separated for the night with some fresh engagement for the morrow. It also struck Herbert that the father was rather peremptory in ordering his daughter to her rest at an hour considerably earlier than usual; but, as he complained of illness, and was altogether a sort of person whom few prospective sons-in-law would wish to cross, our hero' dutifully gave way without much remonstrance, saw Nautila retire to her room, and then sought his own.

From the moment that Herbert became satis-lightful predecessors had done: they sang, they fied, by her father's consent, that he had really won so exquisite a prize as Nautila, as the future enchantress of his days, he resigned himself to the utmost to all the excess of life's deepest attachment. With our heroine we need scarcely repeat that this was her first love; she therefore could form no dream of anything to cross it; and if she looked lovely when Herbert first made her acquaintance, the entire happiness that now filled her bosom added, if possible, to her charms. Now that the young pair were engaged, they were allowed to be still more unrestrictedly in each other's society than before. Of sleep those young bright eyes knew little or nothing: often, before the sun had dawned, they were both upon the lake; long after the golden orb had sunk to rest, they wandered by the moon, and when nature, who moves not from her course for human wo or human joy, withdrew that silver orb, then, by the deep stars, they enjoyed the warm tranquillity of the night, amid all the sweetness of that secluded spot; nursing hopes destined to destruction, and forming plans of happiness that mortal being never yet could realize.

Nothing could be finer than the whole of the weather during Herbert's stay; and now that he had gained the post which entitled him to be considered as Nautila's protector, they constantly rode together to every beautiful sight and scene in the neighbourhood.

Accustomed to a life of the most exciting hardship and danger, how deeply into the soul of the young sailor sank the hours of that tranquil felicity! Alas! had he possessed one tithe of the wisdom and experience which Mr. St. John had evidently gathered in his stormy passage through the world, he would have known that the very existence of such a season of full happiness betokened the approach of some deadly peril close at hand; but it is only when our own chances of happiness are gone by and wrecked forever, that we reap the bitter knowledge which would teach us to hoard and to enjoy them to the utmost. Such is man-still turning to the future rather than the present hour. How much real enjoyment we miss by overlooking that we really possess, and dwelling upon that which is never to arrive for us!

At last, however, that storm which could not be foreseen by Herbert, because it was not to be detected in the aspect of the clouds, or those material portents which his life had been spent in studying, broke on them. Even the father, who had far less excuse for such blindness, was him

Somewhat fatigued with the long ride, he soon fell asleep. How long he had enjoyed his repose he knew not, but, being aroused by some hand upon his shoulder, he looked up, and there beheld his host sitting by his side, and evidently in the same dress in which he had quitted the dinnertable.

There was a stern gravity in Mr. St. John's demeanour, which, even before he had spoken, filled Herbert with a sort of prophetic awe.

"What the devil is coming now!" thought our hero. But on this point he was speedily enlightened.

"Will you oblige me by sitting up and fully awakening yourself?" said the old man. Herbert once more rubbed his eyes. "What is the matter, sir?"

"I will soon tell you, when once I am assured that you are in a condition to understand what I have to say. Are you perfectly awake?" Certainly I am, sir."

66

"Where was it you told me your adopted father lived?"

"At Boston, sir," replied Herbert, wondering what this had to do with the question.

"On what day of the month did he first see you?"

"On the fifteenth of December."

"What was the Christian name of your adopted mother?"

"Emmeline."

"Very good; I will now proceed-you are fully awake. Attend to me. I hold in my hand a letter which I have recently received in answer to one of several, which, as I once hinted to you, I wrote to various parties for the purpose of finding out whether others gave the same account of you that you gave of yourself. An unfortunate accident has delayed the arrival of the last of these for nearly a week; but in this letter I am. informed that, at a gentleman's dinner-table at New-York, the name of myself and my daughter were mentioned: my daughter as a young woman

of considerable beauty, myself as an eccentric | Surely, when I point out to him the cruelty that that had shut his doors upon the world. I am would exist in making her pay the penalty of my told that you then made a bet within a certain misconduct, he will at once forgive me; and this space of time to obtain an entrance into my cloud blown over, how assiduously will I guard house, to eat at my table, to sleep under my roof, for the future against the rising of any other!" and to form an acquaintance both with my child and me."

As the old man said this, he fixed his gaze on Herbert with a cold, resolute, determined eye, that seemed to penetrate to our hero's very heart, and leave an icy, sickening chill, that nothing could remove. The charge, too, came upon Herbert at a moment and in a manner which left him so wholly unprepared with an answer, overtook him, in the full zenith of happiness and success, with such a cruel, retributive vengeance, that he felt himself, as it were, staggering beneath the blow, his pulses ceasing in their play, and every feeling indicating the probability of a fainting fit.

He tried to frame some answer, but language mocked at the command. He would have implored pardon-forgiveness-anything; but not one word could he utter. Some dreadful obstruction seemed to rise in his throat; his lips became so parched he could scarcely move them; and, in the most intense agony, he sank back upon his pillow. The old man remained by his side, shading his features from the light, which fell full on the handsome lineaments of Herbert, now ́pale as the linen on which they rested.

Here Herbert mutely repeated a number of very eloquent and argumentative speeches, all to be delivered to Mr. St. John on the ensuing "morrow," if such a dose should prove requisite; and with these magnificent arguments still muttering on his lips-to be supported, if necessary, by the auxiliary supplications of Nautila-he fell into a deep slumber, quite convinced that pardon, and fresh joy of every sort, would await him on the "morrow."

CHAPTER XVIII.

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

Have lighted fools to dusky death."-YOUNG. WHEN Herbert opened his eyes on the morning following the eventful night described in our last chapter, the sun was streaming broadly in at the window. He opened the lattice, and the fresh breeze of morning stole upon him, perfumed with the sweet breath of the clematis, and musical with the numerous voices of the feathered inhabitants of the forest.

Looking out upon the lawn, where the long shadows of the trees pointed from east to west in the colourless rays of the morning light, our hero fully expected to have seen the graceful form of Nautila, for it was already past the hour when she usually made her appearance for the day.

Overpowered as our hero felt himself to be, he could still perceive the large tears bursting into light beneath the gray, shaggy penthouse of the old man's eyebrows, and coursing one another rapidly down his cheek. This alone was wanting to complete Herbert's agony. When he felt Saving, however, the long, sweet trill poured how deeply he must have wounded a heart which forth by the birds, the gentle whisper of the rising the world had already wrung to breaking, he al-breeze, and the distant murmur of the waterfall, most cursed himself aloud; but neither spoke a word.

After some minutes, the old man rose, and, walking slowly from the room, paused at the door, turned round, looked once more at Herbert, and, with his hand waving a faint motion of adieu, thus finally departed.

Our hero's first motion was to start from his couch to hurry after the old man, and at once implore his pardon; but then he remembered that it was with no ordinary mortal that he had to deal, and perhaps his very step making a commotion in the house might only offend him more; and this view of the case was also strengthened by a reflection on the season which had been chosen for the old man's visit.

all was perfectly still. A sense of ill weighed heavily at his heart, and anxiously he hurried forward his toilet and hastened down stairs. Here, where he had always been accustomed to meet every sign of life, everything was as silent as in the garden. He looked into each of the sitting-rooms, and in one, to his surprise, breakfast was laid out as profusely and as luxuriantly as he had ever seen it. But how his heart sunk as he noted the difference-no longer for three parties, but for himself alone!

the house.

What could that portend? Hastily closing the door, he hurried into the servants' kitchens. No one was there. Mr. St. John's household had only consisted of the housekeeper, Mrs. Cerberus, and one negro, and both were gone! Perhaps," exclaimed Herbert, "he does not even the shutters of the window had not been even wish his daughter to know how grossly her withdrawn, and all remained in darkness. He future husband has committed himself. Her fu- listened, to detect, if possible, the movements of ture husband! Alas! how shall I ever forgive any one getting up. None were to be heard. myself, if this unfortunate discovery were to-Nothing but the tick-tick-tick of the clock But no; stern as he is, he is too sensible so fear-near him spoke of man or mortality throughout fully and doubly to punish an indiscretion in which only one is guilty. And, after all, an indiscretion that is merely attributable to a boyish love of frolic, rather than anything more serious. Any other person, it is true, might feel a point of pride in disappointing one who had ventured to make a wager on his want of skill in detecting an innocent trick. Whatever may be the faults of the old man, he is too dead to the opinion of the world, and despises it too heartily, to be in-courage to confirm his suspicions. fluenced by such small vanity. No: the first thing to-morrow morning I will hurry to him, at once confess my folly, and implore his pardon, less for my own sake than that of his child!

A vague and indistinct sort of fear haunted him, but it was too horrible for him to admit its credulity! Some imperfect remembrance then flitted across his mind of sounds heard during the night; but this, of course, was a matter from which he could draw no distinct inference. Even then he more than suspected the truth of what had really happened, and yet had not the

Sitting down on the stairs, and burying his face in his hands, he for some moments gave way to the keen reproaches that assailed him. How he had murdered his own happiness!