describe his look-then saying there was nothing farther worth detaining us in the li brary, he hurried us out of it. I afterwards questioned the servants if my suspicions were not just, but could get no satisfaction." "You could not!" said Matilda, with a smile of pretended surprise, "amazing."

"No, indeed. Lady Torrendale said it was wrong to ask, but I think I did well, for how is one to learn any thing but by asking questions? and at last, I did get some satisfaction-the housekeeper told me, under the seal of secrecy; but I entrust it to you; that it was true her master had brought over a beautiful young lady from Italy, whom he was distractedly in love with, and very desirous to marry. He had been instrumental in delivering her from the imprisonment of a convent, where her friends had placed her, with the intention that she should take the veil: this had thrown her into his power, and instead of restoring her, as she had expected and conditioned, to a relation who would have received her till she could make terms with her other connexions, he had forcibly

conveyed her away to England, and then endeavoured to persuade her she had no other alternative but becoming his wife. The dif ference of religion, however, and the want of her parents consent, formed an insuperable bar, in her opinion; and she did nothing but weep and sigh during the daily visits of Sir Harold, who, though he kept her under close confinement, studied every thing that could make that confinement agreeable to her; and her constant resistance was the cause of that unhappiness, and those occasional starts of fury, which may be observed in your cousin. You may suppose, my dear," pursued Arbella, "I was anxious to see the sweet creature after this account; but the housekeeper, a very discreet woman, told me it was impossible for her to procure me that gratification; and begged I would rest satisfied with the information she had given me; but I am determined it shall not be long before I, in some manner or other, indulge my wish."

Matilda now called to mind a former idle. report about Sir Harold, which did not disagree with this statement; still, as she thought

the whole story extremely improbable, and most likely, related by the woman to amuse the curiosity of Arbella, she used her utmost endeavours to dissuade her from her wild intention; but Arbella's was not a mind to be so easily governed; whenever a subject interested her, she was apt, as the French term it, à se passionner, and a singular peculiarity in her character was, that these passions were sometimes taken, for objects, that should have been the most absolutely indifferent to her, whilst she manifested a coldness, amounting almost to insensibility, for many that might be supposed to touch her much more nearly; the beautiful Italian nun, "who could not speak English, poor dear soul, and had no friend in England to right her," became the subject of her nightly dreams and daily cogitations. She raved of nothing else to Matilda, who, considering the whole as a fable, was rather weary of her constant sighs, tears, and plaints, on the subject. She soon had reason to repent hav ing indulged her curiosity.

About half a mile beyond the Rocks there

was the ruins of an ancient priory, which had also once belonged to the Melbourne family. One fine evening that the Melbournes spent at Woodlands, Lady Torrendale observing there were many young people in company, proposed an excursion to it. The carriages were ordered, in which they were to proceed as far as the Rocks, where they intended to alight and walk to the Priory. Returning from their ramble, the Countess, who had not forgot her old penchant for flirting with and "surprising" the Baronet, proposed they should look in upon the "hermit Sir Harold," and carry him off vi et armis to sup with his relations at Woodlands. Miss Ferrars, delighted with the idea, led the way. She was just then relating the history of the Italian nun to Miss Sagely, a stony damsel of the neighbourhood, who always thought Arbella "odd," and congratulating herself on her superior wisdom, because, too dull to commit the errcis of vivacity, imagined she must indubitably be right, as she made it a rule on all occasions to say nothing and do nothing her statue-like calmness, and the

difficulty with which she at length brought out a "really ina'am," or " very singular indeed," formed the best contrast with the

varying countenance, and eyes of trembling lustre, with which Arbella related the improbable and romantic tale; but when she came within sight of the gothic door which led to the (supposed) uninhabited wing of the mansion, her transport knew no bounds. "Look Madam," she exclaimed to Lady Torrendale, " 'tis open-left open by chance-I will see her once before she dies!"

"Not for your life, Arbella," cried Matilda, stepping forward and seizing her arm. "Miss Ferrars, have you forgot all propriety?" cried Lady Torrendale.

"Propriety Madam," said Arbella, “when sensibility, when justice is in the cause!" she darted forward, passed the broken arch, which was overhung with moss and ivy, and was out of sight in a moment.

"Dear heart! she is a spirited young lady," cried George Spring, jumping for joy, "Gad I'd like to have a peep myself."

Lady Torrendale followed, under pretence