with dust, and enveloped in a large cloak, rushed into the apart

ment.

"Thank God!" cried he, "I am yet in time! I have come before the hour."

He took off the broad hat which concealed his features, and the bride and bridegroom recognised the features of Gaspard de Besse. Madame de Serviane threw herself, overpowered with terror, into the arms of De Fontenay, who in the first movement of his rage had drawn his sword. At this sight, all the gentlemen present followed his example; but Gaspard, with a contemptuous glance throwing open his mantle, discovered to them that his pistols were ready to his hand.

"Silence! and listen to me," cried he, in an authoritative voice; and such was the ascendancy that he possessed, that every sword's point was lowered instantly. "I come not here," he continued, "to injure, but to save. Know, also, that we do not meet on equal grounds. You, Count, who stand there impatiently playing with the hilt of your sword, can best judge. The castle is surrounded. In one moment fifty men, as determined as those before me, and better armed, will be here, and one drop of my blood shed would cost the lives of all. Believe me," he added, seeing the indecision of the gentlemen whom he addressed, "my voice would be more powerful to save you than all those swords. Sheath them, therefore, and leave me the master in this business. Remain passive, and I answer for you with my head, otherwise you are dead men."

Scarcely had he finished speaking when cries and shrieks resounded through the building; the courts and gardens were filled with banditti, whose grim faces appeared at the windows, and who had already forced the doors, armed with poniards and pistols. A fearful silence reigned in the saloon. Gaspard firmly and resolutely kept his station beside the fainting form of the Marquise. The banditti advanced to within a few paces of the terrified guests, when their chief stepped forward and presented himself. Loud acclamations hailed his presence; but at a sign from him they ceased at once, and retreated as by magic into the outer courts, where they remained silent and immovable, waiting his commands.

"You are safe," he said, turning to the company. "I learnt only this very morning the project suggested by one of my lieutenants. Twenty leagues separated me from this château, which he proposed to pillage to-night. You see how necessary my presence was, and that resistance would have been fatal."

When he had concluded, he walked up to the table on which lay the contract of marriage; he stooped down, with a smile on his lip, and taking a pen, affixed his signature to the paper beside those of the witnesses, - and who was there bold enough to say him nay? Then with the calmest aspect, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary course of things in his situation, he knelt at the feet of Madame de Serviane, and taking a ring from his girdle, he placed it on her finger, entreating her to wear it as a souvenir of his visit.

The Marquise, with a deep blush, recognised a ring which, in a moment of confidence, she had herself presented to her disguised lover.

Five minutes afterwards, the Durance separated Gaspard and his band from the château of Arnajon.

Many years after, this redoubted chief of brigands was taken, judged, and condemned to death. Many persons of rank used their utmost endeavours to obtain his pardon, and the Countess de Fontenay and her husband were not amongst the least strenuous; but, in spite of their active exertions, the result was unfavourable. The judges would hear of no extenuation; the trial was carried on with rigour. So dangerous and so fascinating a robber could not hope to meet with leniency; and Gaspard de Besse underwent the punishment of the wheel in the public square at Aix.

L. S. C.

MORN AT SEA.

BY JAMES ALDRICH.

CLEARLY with mental eye,

Where the first slanted ray of sun-light springs,
I see the morn with golden-fringed wings
Up pointed to the sky.

In youth's divinest glow,

She stands upon a wandering cloud of dew,
Whose skirts are sun-illumed with every hue
Worn by God's cov'nant bow !

The child of light and air!

O'er land or wave, where'er her pinions move,
The shapes of earth are clothed in hues of love
And truth, divinely fair.

Athwart this wide abyss,

On homeward way impatiently I drift;

Oh! might she bear me now where sweet flowers lift
Their eyelids to her kiss!

Her smile hath overspread

The heaven-reflecting sea, that evermore
Is tolling solemn knells from shore to shore
For its uncoffin'd dead.

Most like an angel friend,

With noiseless footsteps, which no impress leave,
She comes in gentleness to those who grieve,
Bidding the long night end.

How joyfully will hail,

With re-enliven'd hearts, her presence fair,
The helpless shipwreck'd, patient in despair,
Watching a far off sail.

Vain all Affection's arts

To cheer the sick man through the night have been ;
She to his casement goes, and looking in,

Death's shadow thence departs.

THE TRUE STORY OF THE MERCHANT'S WARD.

PROVING THE TRUTH OF THE OLD SAW, THAT WHEN ONE DOOR SHUTS ANOTHER OPENS.

THE MERCHANT.

It is veritably reported of a certain sapient philosopher, that he one summer's day took with him a large flask of Venice glass into the sunshine, and filling it with the rays of light, corked it up, and carefully enwrapping it in the ample folds of his cloak, took it incontinently to his cell, expecting that on the arrival of night he might use it as a substitute for his lamp! Disappointment was, of course, the only result he obtained from his experiment.

As difficult have other men found it to catch and confine the subtle rays of beauty. Lattices, jalousies, and dark chambers have alike proved useless and unavailing, and the beams of loveliness have struggled into liberty despite every precaution.

"Early to bed, and early to rise,

Make a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,"

and "Catch a weasel asleep," were the favourite sayings of the thrifty Master Morton Hardinge, one of the luckiest traders in the city of London (for he really possessed but a very small complement of brains), and his richly-laden argosies were continually traversing the seas, bringing great gains to his growing exchequer.

Being a man of good repute and known wealth, he was above the suspicion of wrong; his ample means, like unto many another rogue in grain, placing him, fortunately for his soul's health, above temptation.

Among his friends-such friends as worldly men may claim-was one Master Robert Dormer, who in his day had been a trader of some eminence; but, having amassed a considerable fortune, retired, upon the death of his spouse, from the care and turmoil attending upon commerce, and spent the remnant of his days in the society of his only daughter Agnes.

Scarcely, however, had she attained her tenth year, when ruthless death snatched from her her indulgent parent, bequeathing her to the trust and guardianship of Hardinge, as well as the whole of his wealth, of which Agnes was not to become mistress until she arrived at the ripe age of twenty-four. In the management of the fortune, Hardinge found both pleasure and profit; but in the management of Mistress Agness he discovered neither,-the cause whereof will be satisfactorily shown.

THE WARD.

AGNES DORMER was as wild as a young fawn, and as graceful withal. Under the eye of her indulgent parent she had grown at will, unpruned and unimproved, flourishing with all the beauty and luxuriance of an untrained vine. Nature had, fortunately, bestowed upon her such perfections both in mind and body, that even educa

tion, or the want of it rather, could not entirely efface her good qualities. She possessed a quick and playful wit, that, like sunshine to a landscape, threw a charm over every conversation in which she joined. She acquired knowledge without an effort; and even the cold and calculating guardian avowed that she was superior to his best clerk in the attainments of reading and writing, rendering him, when in the humour, the most valuable assistance in the arrangement of his accounts.

And had he been a votary of the sea-born Venus, instead of the earth-born Plutus, he certainly would have become enamoured of his beautiful ward; but in the love of gold was concentrated all the best affections of his nature.

Being unmarried,-for the expense of a wife and family affrighted his prudence,-Agnes had no one of her own sex to commune with, except the servants of his establishment, which, in his pride, he certainly kept up with a due regard of his rank and wealth.

As Agnes grew to womanhood, Hardinge naturally conceived. there was some danger of his ward's forming an attachment which might prove detrimental to, and nip the fruits of his productive guardianship in the bud; he therefore secretly resolved to take every precaution to prevent the occurrence of such a calamity.

THE NURSE.

WITH due caution Hardinge sought for and selected a matron, whose age and ugliness would have alone recommended her as the very flower of duennas to the most suspicious don in Hispania.

Under the title of nurse, he introduced this elderly female to his household, who was henceforth to be the dragon in the garden of Hesperides. Her very appearance at the first introduction seemed to have an influence upon the light-hearted Agnes; for, to the astonishment of Hardinge, she accosted her with so much gravity, and such a quiet and chastened demeanour, that the merchant was delighted.

This satisfaction, however, was speedily destined to be a little troubled. Seizing an opportunity when she was alone with him,— "Uncle," said Agnes, for so she usually styled her guardian, " Uncle, methinks of all virtues, economy is one of the best, seeing that it is one of the most productive."

"Well said, and wisely, child," replied Hardinge.

"And therefore," continued Agnes, gravely, "if I can prove you one of the most economical of men, uncle, you must consequently be one of the best."

"In what mean you, child?" demanded Hardinge.

"In the pickling department of your housewifery," replied Agnes. "By 'r Lady! the saving of vinegar by the introduction of Nurse Beatrice must prove enormous; for truly methinks, uncle, one sour look of hers will suffice to pickle a whole jar of cucumbers."

Hardinge was confounded, and before he could summon up courage to parry this sportive thrust, the lively Agnes had beaten a retreat to the music of her own laughter.

THE COMPACT.

BEATRICE proved to Agnes the very shadow of beauty; for neither at home nor abroad did she stir but the lynx-eyed nurse was at

her heels. All her good humour, however, proved insufficient to shield her against the depressing effects of this annoyance; and she resolved, with that decision which was such a remarkable feature in her character, at once to express her mind upon the subject.

The old woman was industriously plying her needle, while the light-hearted Agnes was listlessly turning over her tablets.

"Sweet nurse," said she, "methinks thou hast remarkably good eyes."

"Our Lady be praised!" replied the nurse, reverently, "my sight is good."

"And thou canst, doubtless, see as far through a millstone as most folks, I trow," continued her charge.

"Sooth can I!" said the old woman, with a knowing shake of the head, and attempting what she intended, poor soul! for a smile, but which degenerated into nothing more nor less than an awful grin!

"And thou hast an eye to thy interest in the service thou hast taken of my very worthy and worshipful guardy?"

"Well, well, child," said the nurse, "I believe I do know on which side my bread's buttered."

"A good saying,-and I'll match it with another, fair words butter no parsnips; and therefore, nurse, will I without phrase inform thee, that I am not only rich, but free,-nay, I love liberty as much as any little bird of the air, and feel that being caged would kill me outright. Besides, I am too great a baby to be put into leading-strings; it is now some years since I bade farewell to them and the go-cart."

"Tut, tut, sweet!" cried Beatrice; "what art thou driving at?" "None are so blind as those who won't see," answered Agnes, archly; "there's another of thy favourite proverbs for thee. Now, mark me, I would that thou shouldst practise this same wilful blindness in respect to my actions."

"Dear, sweet, good lady, what dost thou mean?"

"This,

that when we are walking abroad, and thy wary eye should chance to see some gay young cavalier kiss his hand to

me

Very improper!" exclaimed the nurse.

Very," said Agnes; " and therefore shut thy virtuous eyes against the impropriety, and consequently there will be no need of reporting the naughty impertinence of these gallants to my afflicted guardy. Let me alone suffer the indignity, and, depend on 't, I'll bear it like a woman; knowing that, sooner or later, I shall meet my reward."

The heiress then proceeded to inform Beatrice that she would act as she pleased in despite of all opposition; that she was fully persuaded of the sordid reasons her guardian had for keeping her secluded; and finally, that if Beatrice did not become perfectly neuter in the struggle she would torment her continually, and lead her such a dance that she should rue the day when she had undertaken the office of a spy; on the contrary, that if she would only be conveniently blind and deaf, as became a woman of her years and discretion, she would patronize her, and told her to calculate the advantages.

The old woman was certainly staggered; but a little consideration, and certain weighty considerations offered by Agnes, made duty kick the beam.