you have pledged yourself; but any man who has lived in the army, Colonel Llewellen for instance, will assure you that I have only sinned as thousands sin, from example-or vanity perhaps-or"-here Gwenthlean's glance of irrepressible contempt checked him, and an expression of pain passed over his face-" Margarita," he said, addressing the indignant girl he had wronged, in Italian, "you know you too were young and foolish-you would not return to your parents, though I entreated you to do so, and offered you money."

66

Money," she exclaimed, with scorn; "can you cure the diseases of an injured mind with money? Will money pay a wife for the desertion of a husband?"

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Wife," said Mr. Grant, with a contemptuous smile, "you know I told you afterwards."

"You told me a falsehood," she said, drawing from her bosom the certificate of her marriage. “I am your wife,-lawfully your wife. This paper will prove it, and an

address to il Pastor Vermorate will obtain a ratification of it, from the authorities of his parish. Now, disprove it if you can, and if you dare."

A stiletto or

Margarita was revenged. pogniard would not have pierced more cruelly through the heart of her deceiver, than did her words. He stood for a moment like a guilty man before his accusers, crest-fallen and humbled. He had no loop hole of escape. The certificate was before. him, and his own involuntary recognition of Margarita confirmed the whole. He knew, besides, that he was married to her, for in dismissing his servant shortly after the event, he told them that a real priest had united them. Still he recovered himself and with haughty assurance said that he supposed few who knew him would receive so absurd a tale as a true one, or take the fabrication of an ignorant peasant girl for fact.

Herbert fixed his calm, penetrating look full upon him, and he shrunk beneath it..

"Mr. Grant," he said, "I believe, and hope, my character for truth stands as high as yours. I, myself, saw the priest give the certificate to Margarita, and heard him declare the validity of her marriage with George Mordaunt, the name you so honourably assumed."

Mr. Grant bit his lip, yet smiled haughtily. He would have said that he and Mordaunt were not one and the same, but he saw that no one present would believe him, he therefore contented himself with adding

"I pereceive that the evidence of a foreign peasant and a would-be-gentleman will outweigh mine, and that this concocted scene will be received as genuine. I hate private theatricals, and I find myself now the principal actor in them. I must beg to retire from the stage. I hope you have all been amused by this scenic tragedy."

He tried to utter this attempt at sarcasm calmly, but his lip quivered, and his

brow contracted. He cast a look of frightful meaning upon Margarita, who clasped her hands before her eyes, and almost shrieked. She had loved him devotedly, and there was agony in thus meeting, even though the revenge she had sworn was now more than satisfied; for she had wounded him as he had wounded her, both in his heart and reputation. If there was meaning in his glance at Margarita, there was pride and misery blended in the one he cast upon Gwenthlean. He drew from his pocket the fatal tablets upon which she had, upon a former occasion, written her name, and advancing towards her whispered in a low, agitated voice, as he touched the tablets. "Remember! our agreement is broken." Gwenthlean shuddered, but she stood Her destiny, as regarded him, was decided for her. She pointed to Margarita and withdrew behind her sister, who stood before Mr. Grant, her countenance; glowing with indignation, that he dared not meet. Strong passions were struggling in›

his gaze.

his breast, and working in his face. Rage, revenge, hatred, determination, shame, illrepressed anguish and overwhelming love -for he did love Gwenthlean deeply and devotedly; but there was neither repentance nor sorrow. He would have died with that sardonic smile and glance of scorn on his face, rather than have admitted that he had erred. Proudly and haughtily; but without directly looking at any one, he bowed as he left the apartment, but cold, bad feelings were at his heart. He rushed homeward; and, as he paused on the high rock to look upon the flood boiling below him, he almost wished himself beneath its waters. He laughed a bitter laugh, until the image of Gwenthlean presented itself; and once more he swore revenge. His greatest enemy might have pitied him, had he seen the anguish and rage that struggled within his bosom.

He left, however, but two hearts to pity him at the cottage-Gwenthlean's and