CHAPTER XXXIV.

ORMSBY's absence had been unexpectedly protracted, by the difficulty he had found in accumulating from so many different quarters, and in a foreign land, the conclusive proofs of Santelmo's birth, and in tracing his identity through the different situations of his early life. But at length Matilda received from him the glad tidings that his disinterested labours had been brought to a successful termination, and that the evidence he had obtained was such as could not be resisted in any court of justice. He added, that, as the speediest mode of returning to her, he should embark in

a felucca at Genoa, and again should have the inexpressible delight of beholding her on the day immediately succeeding that in which she received the letter. In conclusion, he congratulated himself on the intelligence he had received from England, that SirJames Dornton's divorce bill had already passed one branch of the Legislature, and that, therefore, almost immediately upon his return he should have it in his power to make her irrevocably his.

"I am aware," said her friend, Mrs. Sydney, upon this intelligence being communicated to her, "I am aware that, in the minds of many excellent persons, very considerable doubts are entertained as to the propriety of these marriages; but, in my humble opinion, it is contrary to the benevolent principles of our religion to place any one in

a state of irreclaimable sin. Many I know of those who have been thus redeemed, have been irreproachable as wives and mothers; and, in your particular case, I trust that the salutary interval of solitary repentance may have so chastened your mind, as that you will be properly prepared solemnly to undertake these new duties." Matilda bowed her head in humble acqui

escence.

The morning of the day on which Ormsby was expected was serene and brilliant; it was one of those extraordinary efforts of nature, which, in that delicious climate, defying the calculations of the calendar, charm one with a feeling of summer security even in the midst of winter. Matilda had persuaded her friend to accompany her to the farther extremity of the terrace which faces the sea; and on the smooth

and sunny horizon her eye had long been fixed, endeavouring to catch the first glimpse of the expected vessel. But there was not, on all this wide expanse of waters, even one white wave to be seen which for a moment she could mistake for a shining sail. Still it was early, and the kind efforts of Mrs. Sydney to calm her impatience were for some time not entirely without success. Yet hour passed after hour, and still he came not. At length the sun, which had played on the rippled surface before them, had now retired in its daily course to glitter on the still snowy summit of the Alps behind them; and the short hectic cough of Mrs. Sydney, which this chilly change aggravated, reminded Matilda of the danger of indulging in the selfish pleasure of longer detaining her there. She insisted, therefore, on

her immediately leaving her, and returning home.

When deprived of her companion, Matilda's impatience, of course, increased. "With so fair a wind," she thought, " he might have been here before now.” As she uttered these words, she started at a sudden gust which, rustling in the fallen leaves, carried them before her in a sort of whirlwind, to a considerable distance. In her present state of nervous excitement, even so trifling an incident for a moment checked that bounding sense of happiness which she had previously in vain endeavoured to repress, though her reproving conscience told her, that the pleasure she anticipated was a forbidden and guilty one. But this transitory uneasiness again subsided with the momentary agitation of the passing breeze which caused it; and yet a little while she indulged the unbroken hope of the expected meeting.