surprise, and a perceptible motion of distrust, she looked up in my face, but still little dreaming with what a wretch she was in company, nor what a man of unbridled passions and totally devoid of moral restraint is capable of doing, she consented, and we went on. Presently she stopped again, and enquired for the plant I had brought to see her.

This time I believed we were no longer within hear ing, and throwing off the mask, I cried this was no time for trifling; and seizing her arm, I forcibly impelled her forwards. She uttered one cry, but my horse was now at hand, and placing her upon him, I jumped up behind her, and instantly set off at fullgallop. As I pursued my head-long career with slackened rein, I perceived on looking at her that she had fainted. A deadly páleness overspread her countenance, and I urged on my steed, that we might arrive at a place where I could give her succour. At length we did arrive. She partially recovered, only, poor unfortunate! to find herself in the grasp of a villain, and so horror-struck did she seem when the truth flashed upon her mind, that she turned from me with disgust and abhorrence, and rent the air with her cries and lamentations, her face bathed in floods of tears.

"Meanwhile, a storm was gathering over my guilty and devoted head, which I only averted by additional crime. The cry uttered by Mrs. Montreville had been heard by her husband, whom I erroneously supposed out of reach, A vague suspicion crossed his mind

that the voice was that of his wife. Unable himself, however, to leave his post, he strove to persuade himself that the notion was a false one; but when night came, and the accustomed ministering hand appeared not, he grew seriously alarmed, and earnestly requested a passer-by to repair to his tent, and bring him word whether all was right there. His messenger returned with the intelligence that his tent was deserted, and the fire on the hearth extinguished, and bearing marks of having been neglected for some hours. Distracted with the news, and now confirmed in his belief that the cry of distress he had heard some hours before proceeded from his wife, he implored permission of Mr. Lambert, for that once to be released from his duty, stating to him the peculiarly distressing circumstances of the case. But with great harshness, Montreville was refused the boon. The example was so bad,' was the hard-hearted reply; so many requests for leave of absence would ensue, should this one be complied with, that he must remain at his post until the usual time of relief.'

"Montreville, maddened by this answer, declared he would not obey; that his whole happiness, nay, the existence of his wife, who, probably had been carried off by some marauding Indian tribe, was perhaps at stake, and that, in spite of the prohibition he had received, he was resolved to lose not a moment in the pursuit. So saying, he darted from the presence of his superior, and mounting his horse, presently vanished

in the direction from which he believed the voice to have proceeded. Long he rode in vain, but at length having hit upon the right path, he suddenly appeared emerging from the copse which immediately surrounded the spot where we had halted. His wife on seeing him, gave a piercing shriek. That shriek was the last she ever uttered! I hear it still ringing in my ears, and at that moment one pang of remorse shot across my mind.

"Mrs. Montreville's next movement was to rush into her husband's arms, who, on seeing me, had in stantly dismounted, taking his pistols from the holster of his saddle. His wife's agitation, my own guilty looks and forced silence, all told the tale of wickedness and misery at one glance.

"Monster !' he cried out to me, 'you have ruined us both! defend yourself!'

"I was also armed, though at the first moment be wildered, and unwilling to make use of my weapon. Montreville, however, had in an instant placed his wife at a little distance, and seeing me pistol in hand, levelled and fired. His shot struck a tree close to where I stood, and glancing from it, buried itself in the heart of his wife! I cannot, I have no courage to tell the remainder of the scene. To picture Montreville's despair is beyond my powers. The recollection of it is to me now surpassing agony! And yet, Miss Gràham, my heart was yet untouched. I was shocked for

the moment, but the feeling was but transient.

"If ever wretch existed upon earth, that wretch was myself. Alas, you must abhor me now! What will your sensations then be when my tale of iniquity is finished, for I have yet more guilt and wickedness to relate."

Alice paused in the narrative. "What! more guilt, more iniquity than has been detailed?" said she to herself. "Nay, it is impossible! And yet that George Shenstone, the gentle, the kind, the excellent, should have been such as he has described himself!" and her thoughts reverted to Arthur, who, equal to George in all his merits, had ever been irreproachable as he was at the present moment. She blessed God for it, and almost wept with shame as she thought that more than once she had found herself comparing the two, and not always she feared awarding the palm where it was most due. Alice's curiosity respecting George's previous history was doubtless reprehensible. The mystery once solved, however, dispelled an illusion which might perhaps, have proved dangerous to her future peace, or derogatory to her honour; for her word was passed to Arthur, and Arthur far away in a foreign land, toiling to acquire that which was to enable them at some future period to unite their destinies.. As she read, all this flashed upon her mind, she saw the abyss upon which she had been standing, but she saw it in time to retire from its verge unscathed, and again and again she mentally asked Arthur's forgive

ness for suffering her fancy thus for a moment to have usurped that place in her heart which her affections alone had a right to fill.

CHAPTER VII.

Thou in whose grasp a feeble woman's arm
Shrunk in its weakness, venture if thou dar'st
To try the force of mine.

Is he then murdered? Tell me.

CATHERINE OF CLEVES.

"LEAVING Montreville to perform the last duties to his unfortunate partner, I slowly took the way of the camp. He noticed not my departure, but remained so absorbed in his misery, that even the tide of vengeance seemed past by. To grief was that hour devoted, and to grief alone.

"As I paced the road so lately traversed under different circumstances, I revolved in my mind how I should make my story good to my companions. Though angels of light in comparison with myself, they were men of lax principles, and not such as would look upon the deed of which I had been guilty, with the abhorrence it deserved. On my arrival, I found the camp in great indignation at Montreville's having braved his superiors, and refused to obey the