-

And softly and sad was the echo heard,
Of each low but calmly expressive word :-
"From the hour of my birth thou hast ever pursued
My steps, both in crowds and in solitude;
Though heaven can witness I never harm'd thee,
A deadly foe thou hast proved to me.

Thou hast blasted my fair and unspotted fame,
Thou hast fixed dishonour on Edith's name;
My wide domains thou hast from me riven,
And nothing is left me but trust in heaven;
To heaven I lift up my voice and call
For vengeance on thee, thou criminal."

A strain of music as soft and sweet,
As that which the blessed in heaven doth greet,
Floated around her and died away,

Like the tranquil fall of the eve-star's ray.
Glenallan stood in the pride of his heart,
Like one from whom power could never depart ;
Ah! little he deem'd that the time was near,
When his power for ever would disappear;
A strange sign he made, and swift as the blast,
A cloud of dark hue in its might by them past,
And Sir Harold stood there before the maid,
Like some fearful and disembodied shade;
His cheek was pale, and his eye once bright,
Seem'd now quench'd in eternal night:
For Glenallan had charged the spirits of hell
To cast over Harold their mighty spell,
And the knight beneath its influence dread,
Now seem'd like one of the awful dead.

Fair Edith stood like a form of stone,
Her dearest hope from her heart had gone;
But still her bright features their calmness kept,
As if in her breast every passion slept.
Glenallan lifted his sword on high,

Yet calm and unchanged was the maiden's eye;
But when the sword pierced her lover's breast,
A loud fearful shriek her feelings confest;
Every woe was now heap'd on her guiltless head,
And she fell to the earth as if life had fled.

Oh then rose a sound as if earth was riven,

And the stars from their thrones in confusion driven;
Whilst a voice that the thunders of heaven awoke,
In accents of fire these awful words spoke
"Glenallan's lord thou hast broken the spell,
That bent to thy purpose the powers of hell,
Thy career of darkness and crime is run,
And the spirits of evil thy soul have won ;
Then came a sweep like the whirlwind's blast,
And Glenallan tower to the earth was cast;
While midst shouts of joy and shrieks of dismay,
Glenallan's proud lord was borne away.

Sir Harold sprung from the earth unharmed,
For the spell had his life from danger charmed;
And Edith awoke from her death-like trance,
To greet her lover's exulting glance.
In beauty they knelt, that guiltless pair,
And to heaven they offered a fervent prayer ;
While in double glory Edith's star shed
Its holiest rays on her beauteous head.
There is laughter and joy in old Raeburn's halls,
And banners float over its aged walls;
For Edith possesses her rightful domain,
Her proud name is cleared from blot or stain;
And Sir Harold is her's by the holiest ties
That bind man to wedded love's mysteries.

EDMUND TRAFFORD.

LUCY BEAUMONT.

Cui Pudor, et Justitia soror
Incorrupta Fides, nudaque Veritas
Quando ullum invenient parem?

Lucy had a frankness in her disposition which made her detest every species of deception; she had been a total stranger to it from her childhood, and knew not how to practice it; therefore, though on the appearance of Charles Auland, the suffusion on her cheek heightened to a deep crimson, she no longer attempted to hide it, but turning to her husband, said, "You have, unknowingly, done me a great favour; this gentleman, was one of my earliest friends; his uncle,

was for many years our pastor." Then extending her hand to Charles, "I am glad to see you Mr. Auland, and hope the occasion of this renewal of our acquaintance will be for your advantage."-"Your grace does me much honour," said Charles, in a voice scarcely articulate, bowing very low over the hand he hardly dare trust himself to touch; though his fingers ached to clasp and press it to his heart. Nothing could have been more unexpected than this interview on both sides; but to Charles it was a clap of thunder, annihilating in an instant a thousand chimerical hopes which he had almost unconsciously indulged: that time might work a miracle in his favor, and that Lucy Beaumont would one day be his. He had not heard of her marriage, or even that she was addressed. He had been abroad with a gentleman of rank who visited the South of France for his health, and Auland with him in the capacity of companion, friend, and secretary; in all these characters he had acquitted himself so well, that at his decease, the gentleman had left him a very genteel remembrance, and had, previous to his dissolution, written in such strong terms to his friends in England, that three days after Charles's arrival in London, he was informed that the duke of Athlayne wanted a private secretary, and that he had been mentioned to his grace in such terms as would ensure him the situation, if it was such as met his wishes. It was the very thing he desired; it was the road to preferment, and in his way to Pall Mall, independence and Lucy Beaumont had more than once floated in his imagination. But Lucy Beaumont was no more; and in her place he beheld the duchess of Athlayne, the wife of the man whom he had looked up to as a future patron, by whom he was to attain that independence.

The belief on either side that their secret was confined to their own bosoms, helped to dissipate the confusion the first meeting occasioned; mutual enquiries took place, and by degrees, the conversation became general and lively. Charles retired after breakfast with the duke to his study, and Lucy to her own heart to make some serious enquiries. Terrified at the emotion the sight of this long esteemed object had occasioned, she began by asking, should she do right in permitting a man who had certainly once possessed her whole heart, and whom she could not, even now, behold with indifference,

to become an inmate in her family, and to gain the friendship of her husband. "But he has never been acquainted with my partiality," said she, mentally, " and will it not be unjust to deprive so deserving a man of the patronage of one so able to promote his interest, merely because I have been weak? I have deceived myself in ever supposing he felt more for me than for any other woman; and the distance rank has now placed between us, will prevent that familiarity of intercourse which might strengthen my partiality, and perhaps, in an unguarded moment, betray it. If, as Lucy Beaumont, I was sufficiently guarded to prevent his reading my heart, surely now, when duty, honor, and moral rectitude, are on the side of discretion, I shall not act with less prudence and fortitude."

The offers made by the duke to Charles, were liberal in the extreme; he hesitated not to accept them, his modesty leading him to suppose he was totally mistaken in regard to Lucy's sentiments in past time; that if she ever had felt the smallest degree of partiality in his favor, it was long since eradicated; and the frank manner in which she had received him, and announced their former intimacy to her husband, tended to fix this idea. He was a young man of strict honor; and though he knew he should never cease to venerate, he resolved never to permit love and the duchess of Athlayne to enter his mind together.

During his residence in the duke's family, which was nearly three years, Lucy felt herself the happiest of human beings; she saw Charles frequently, enjoyed his society in company with her husband, who discovered and esteemed his merits; she saw him in the road to preferment, as the duke declared, he had hope of speedily obtaining for him, a lucrative post under government; and perhaps it was some addition to her happiness to observe, that amongst the number of the fair sex, with whom he associated, he paid no particular attention to any one, though polite and attentive to all. For unless when mixing with the duchess's parties, at which he was ever expected to make one, whether public or private, he usually spent his time in his own apartment, when not engaged in the duties of his station.

At length a situation offered which the duke thought would suit his young friend; he obtained it for him, and L.-29, 2.

X

when the family took their annual visit to their estates in Scotland, he took his leave of his noble benefactor; and when at parting, he pressed the hand of Lucy to his lips, the fervor of his feelings were free from the smallest particle of passion. During the summer, the duke was seized with a fever, which terminated his existence, and Lucy resolved not to return to London the ensuing winter, but pass it in retirement in Scotland. During the life of the duke, he had taken under his protection a young lady, the orphan child of a naval officer, who had died in the service of his country. This child he had placed at a respectable school, and meant to provide handsomely for her; she used always to spend her holidays with the duchess, and Charles ever admired her as an amiable promising girl. In the last conversation he had with his noble patron, the duke hinted how happy it would make him, could he resign Clara Neville to such a protector. After the family left town, Charles paid several visits to Miss Neville, who, though she had not left school, was nearly eighteen. He thought frequently of his patron's hint, and began to believe he should be happy with such a companion, could he be assured she preferred him to all other men. Taught from her first knowledge of him to consider Mr. Auland as a perfect being, it was an easy transition from perfect esteem to lively affection; and when on the death of the duke she was sent for to spend the winter with the duchess in Scotland, she professed to him at parting that the time would seem long until she should again see him.

It was about the middle of the ensuing May, that Lucy, being in the garden at the close of the evening, observing some alterations which she had directed to be made, when she saw at the end of a walk, advancing towards her, Clara Neville, leaning on the arm of a gentleman. As there were few who visited Athlayne Castle in a familiar way, she was conjecturing who it could be, when the sound of a voice which had never been heard without emotions of pleasure made her heart vibrate, as she advanced to meet him. The pleasure of the meeting can easily be imagined; the evening passed delightfully, and the next day, and the next, flew on the wings of pleasure; during which time Charles had found opportunity to inquire into the state of Clara's affection, and obtain permission to apply to her protectress for