sessed; how uniformly, how ardently I exercised my extensive power for the happiness of my fellowcreatures; how basely, how foully the villain, man, has requited me? Never mention to me my name, now hated by myself as much as it is by others. Never remind me that he who was once a philanthropist, has now too much reason to be a misanthrope. Never tell me how high I once stood, unless you can conceal from me how low I am now fallen !"

"And am not I too fallen ?" exclaimed his wife with a calm dignity. "I, the sister of the greatest sovereign that ever sat upon a throne! I, that might once have claimed influence over a mighty kingdom! I, that am now the proscribed refugee, who must hide her head in the watery dungeons of Haelbeck? Yet you have never heard me repine, for I share the misfortunes of my husband. You have never seen me yield to despondency; for I still possess undiminished sway over the kingdon of my mind! The good that we have both done in our days of power cannot be taken from us. If unrequited upon earth, it remains registered in Heaven. So fickle a breath as public opinion cannot constitute the virtue or vice of our actions."

"But it may make the happiness or misery o the actor," replied her husband with a groan "especially, if, like me, it has been the passion of his soul to purchase fair fame, and golden opinions from all men; especially, if like me, he can find

no respite even in misanthropy, and is rendered unceasingly wretched by having forfeited the good opinion even of the beings that he hates. Look at yonder picture," he continued, pointing to the representation over the fire-place. “Oh blind, fickle, brainless, brutal race of man! See how that base assassin was honoured, rewarded, canonised; while I for what am I reserved?-an ignominious scaffold will close my life; curses and contempt. will be my posthumous honours!"

"Nay, yield not to these gloomy reveries,” cried his wife; "here we are safe and forgotten; here will we tender consolation to one another; here will we close our weary pilgrimage together."

"It may not be," sorrowfully resumed the exile. "The last letters from our excellent friend Beverning have filled me with new apprehensions. The great ones of the earth are conspiring together against me; there are frequent meetings of the ambassadors; the Spaniard is about to league with England. - I must again fly from my lonely lair; or encounter the new stratagems and plots, the new snares and pit-falls, that will be remorselessly laid for my life."

"We may defeat them again, as we have done before;" replied his wife. "When necessary, we have the means of flight; till then let us discard the world and its hostilities from our thoughts. Resume your wonted courage, my dear husband, and remember that it is not danger that is terrible

but the perpetual fear of it. Come, shall we join our dear Julia ?"

"Willingly," exclaimed the exile with a languid smile. "God knows I have need of something to cheer me. Where is she? Where is she?"-A transient animation passed over his wild and haggard features, as the wretched man put his arm within his wife's, and was led out of the room to seek his daughter.

As Jocelyn retired from the scene of which he had so unintentionally been rendered a spectator, he was not only perplexed with a thousand vain conjectures as to who and what these mysterious exiles could be, but he was a prey to contending feelings of the most painful nature. Sympathy with the sufferers, and this he felt in no common degree, could not blind him to the horrible nature of the crime which appeared to have reduced the wretched exile to his present deplorable state. Here was a man concealing himself, under a feigned name, and in an uninhabited morass, who had virtually confessed himself to be a murderer-and a murderer too under such aggravations of atrocity that he was not only placed under ban and interdict, and driven out from all society with man, but haunted by the horrible creations of his own guilty conscience. He had himself alluded to the probability of his finishing his miserable career upon a public scaffold. His wife might be a pattern of exalted virtue, she might have truly boasted her

relationship to a sovereign; but no merit, no high connexion, could wash away the deep and deadly guilt of her husband, or remove the infamy that attached to it. However illustrious might have been their former rank, it was evident that the world considered it no diminution of the exile's offence; or they would not both be pursued through various countries with an unrelenting rancour, that was only visited upon criminals of the blackest die.

Then came the most distressing question of all. Could he marry the daughter of people so circumstanced? Hitherto, he had been content to admire to gratify his taste, to fall in love without ever thinking of marriage. It was only when that consummation presented itself to him as impossible, that he began to discover how fervently he desired it; how necessary it was to his happiness. Julia was doubtless as innocent as she was fascinating, and he could not place her purity in a more exalted point of view; but she was the daughter of a murderer, who might be consigned to public execration and infamy on the gibbet; she was a wanderer upon the face of the earth; she was living under a feigned name; she might have other relations who were as objectionable as her father.

Day after day did he revolve these considerations in his own mind, and they invariably conducted him to the same result-the necessity of renouncing his thoughtless attachment. Vigorous and sage were his resolutions to this effect, for his judgment

was fully convinced; but his heart, unfortunately, was no party to the prudential dictates of his head. When he again saw the bewitching Julia and listened to her vivacious sallies; when he considered her forlorn and joyless lot, and weighed the injustice and cruelty of visiting the crime of the guilty upon the innocent; when, above all, he found reason to believe that he had awakened a tender interest in her heart; all the impediments to their union vanished from his view, and he could hardly avoid declaring his passion at once, and offering to share her fate, whatever it might prove.

While love was thus struggling with prudence, he received, after a long interval of silence, a letter from Tracy, whose contents were highly gratifying. Bagot, to the surprise of his own surgeons, had recovered, and his health was so completely reestablished that he was upon the point of setting out as secretary to the Swedish embassy. The Duke of Buckingham, having laid a wager that he would die, had quarrelled with him for getting well; and had even been heard to express a hope that young Compton would perform his work more effectually the next time they encountered; so that there was no longer any apprehension of animosity in that quarter. Lord Rochester had been released from the Tower, had married Mistress Mallett, in whose abduction Jocelyn had been an unwitting assistant, was in greater favour than ever with the King, and was exerting his influence with