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rendered unusually deep. But Gwenthlean was restless, and could not remain in bed. She was trying in vain to separate what had really happened, from her dreams, but could not. She arose, but was scarcely more successful. The bright rays of the morning sun were gleaming through her casement, and she looked forth upon the now calm, unbroken expanse of waters. She remembered that she had been struggling through the ocean to save the lives of her fellow creatures, and she blessed God that He had made her the humble instrument of urging others to so blessed a work. She sought the vessel, but “not a wreck remained”—the quicksands had swallowed her up during the night, and her crew would have shared the same fate, but for the merciful interposition of an overruling Providence. All this was clear : but still a voice rang in her ear. Was it a dream ? or had she been so blest as to hear once more, the tones of him she loved ? It must have been a dream, for she recollected having been insensible-it could not have been Herbert's voice that had haunted her sleep all that night, and which came to her again, when she awoke.

She dressed herself silently, and went into her garden to see whether the fresh air of that exquisite morning, would restore her memory clear as before. But still the voice trembled on the very breeze. Again in spite of her resolutions to the contrary, she thought of Herbert. She walked up and down the garden ; she plucked a flower here and there she stood still and mused—but her approaching bridal was distant from her imagination, which wandered far, far away, over the ocean, to the blue-heavened Italy-to the robber's cave. Then it came home again, and the voice haunted her like a spirit. As usual, her steps turned towards Herbert's grotto, and there she sat, half sad and dejected and melancholy ; yet half, she knew not why, glad and joyous as of old.

VOL. III.

Herbert, too was awake early on that morning. He was too happy and too anxious to sleep long. He arose and determined to go at once to his dear home at Glanheathyn, and see his grandfather. He looked from his window upon the old familiar scenes. Everything was as it used to be-fair and beautiful. But he did not look long, for Gwenthlean passed like a vision, before the window, and ascended the rough steps to her grotto. What mingled feelings of hope and feardoubt and shall we say it ? jealousy, were his, as he watched her graceful figure disappear amongst the rocks.

But he would learn the worst at oncehe would know whether he were forgotten, and another about to fill the place he once held in her affections. He followed her to the grotto.

The voice was still hovering about Gwenthlean, and still she thought of Herbert, when, like the phantom of her thoughts and dreams, he stood before her. . She neither fainted nor screamed, but sat as one paralysed. The pale face became paler than before ; the hands dropped motionless, and the eyes were fixed, as if by some secret and irresistible spell, upon Herbert. She could not speak—she could not rise to greet him. He was nearly as much overcome ; and remained for some moments motionless and silent, gazing upon the delicate, wan, but still beautiful face of Gwenthlean. She was sadly altered—and so was he : both were changed by sickness and sorrow: how changed since they parted, happy in the consciousness of each other's affection? Herbert spoke first, but his words were few and broken. · “Gwenthlean," he said, “you have saved my life. I am once more returned. Am I come back in happiness?" He sat down by her side, and after gazing a little moment into her face, clasped her in silence, and unrepulsed to his heart. Poor Gwenthlean ! the unutterable anguish of that moment almost broke her heart. She withdrew herself from his embrace—her head sunk upon her bosom; she covered her face with her hands, and sobbed aloud. Like a broken lily, she could not rise again. Never, never, more could she look upon the open face of him who had never deserted her, even in thought, and who had now returned, after years of absence, privation and suffering, to find her false, and her mute promise broken. There was a long and painful silence, interrupted only by her sobs. She would have quitted the grotto, but she felt chained to the spot—she would have fled to the ends of the earth, to have avoided the unspeakable reproach of that silence, but she knew there was a still more bitter cup in store for her. At last Herbert spoke again.

“ This is a strange welcome-home, Gwenthlean! A sorrowful termination of the hopes I had dared to cherish. Is all then true that my worst fears sometimes

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