of so elegant and beautiful a girl, alone on ship board, excited various surmises. She was, however, obliged to accept their offer of accompanying them on deck, for the heat and closeness of the cabin were insufferable. Here she was addressed by a gentleman of superior bearing and polished manners, who appeared to take pity of her youth and inexperience, and whose white hairs and kind, though fidgetty attentions, won her confidence. They talked about Wales, and in the course of conversation, the gentleman asked her whether she knew anything of such a place as Glanheathyn. She started, hesitated, and at last said she knew it well by name. He said he was on his way thither, and proceeded to make inquiries concerning a Mr. Lloyd and a Mrs. Llewellen who he wished to find out. Clare satisfied him.

By degrees, and as mutual confidence increased; that confidence which arises sometimes, naturally, between comparative strangers of similar birth and notions. Clara

said that she was the daughter of the lady he was in search of, and was then on her way to Craigy vellyn. The stranger appeared surprised, but deeply interested. He begged her not to impute his inquiries to idle curiosity, but he would take the liberty of asking whether her name were Gwenthlean. She replied in the negative, but said she had a sister so called. The gentleman remarked that their meeting was a strange one, for that, although personally unknown to her family, he had communications of singular moment to make to them.

He then proceeded to relate a history, which, as my readers are already acquainted with it, I shall not repeat. He proved to be the English captive of whom I have spokon, and to whom Herbert Llewellen gave the letters for his friends, in the bandit's cave amongst the Appenines. His communication, as may be supposed, deeply interested Clare. By it she discovered a secret, which, although she had

suspected it, had never been disclosed to her-that Herbert and Gwenthlean were attached to each other. She learnt that the friend she esteemed was, perhaps, alive, but in a more melancholy condition than she could have well conceived; a condition to which death would be preferable, and she found that there was still increased misery in store for a sister she ardently loved.

The stranger had told his story with tact and delicacy, but he saw that Clare was moved.

"I am sorry," he said, "to have pained you-but, perhaps, you would bear this intelligence better than your sister, or the grandfather the unfortunate young man mentioned."

Clare said that she felt more for others than herself, since, from circumstances, she had been comparatively little acquainted with Herbert; but that she dreaded the effect the disclosures would have upon his dearer friends. She added that it would VOL. III.

D

be necessary to make them with discretion.

They talked long and widely upon the subject, and the gentleman asked Clare whether she knew to what Welsh family of Llewellens Herbert belonged. Clare was wholly unacquainted with his early history, and replied in the negative.

"I scarcely know why I make the inquiry," pursued the stranger, "since it is, like other Welsh names, so universal that there may be fifty Llewellens all unconnected. But I am, myself, one of this numerous family, and the word Llewellen, in Italy, struck upon my ear like a voice from home; and although I knew to the contrary I could not help imagining that I must have discovered a relative in the forlorn captive of the robbers' cave."

Clare looked inquisitive, but good manners forbade her making any direct inquiry. The gentleman satisfied her, however, by saying that he was Colonel Llewellen, of whom, though her name-sake, she could

know nothing, since he had resided in India for the last forty years, and was just returned, like others of his calibre, to find all his friends and acquaintances dead, or unmindful of him. He believed he had one very distant cousin residing in Bath, whom he had intended visiting, had not his mind been so much occupied by his adventure with Herbert, that he could not rest until he had delivered his letters and messages to his friends in Wales. He had, therefore, written to his relative from Bristol, to inform her that his visit to her would be delayed some little time, owing to matters which called him elsewhere.

"Another discovery!" thought Clare, as she listened to her new friend's most free and open communications, "this is my ninety-ninth cousin, Colonel Llewellen," but she made no remark, not choosing to disclose herself as the niece of the Countess Sforza he alluded to.

This rather curious meeting, naturally placed Colonel Llewellen in the situation