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with an injunction to Maurice to be quiet himself, and keep his master so; but she was no sooner out of sight, than be demanded from him the particulars of all that had taken place, and where he then was. Maurice having related all that occurred from the rencounter with the banditti, informed him that he was then in the castle of a Baron de Zindorf, who was confined to his bed by sickness, though of what nature he knew not.

"And that lovely creature who has attended me�is she his wife or daughter?"

"Neither, I believe," replied Maurice, "but niece to the baroness, a lady of great good nature and benevolence."

This account was highly gratifying to Claudio, to whom, however, the name of Zindorf was utterly unknown; but his joy was somewhat checked on learning that he had lost his horse and all his money. He knew of no source from whence to draw a fresh supply, for he bad embarked every thing on the present undertaking. It was not necessary for him to mention his ideas to Maurice, who, however, easily saw into his heart, and intreated him to be reconciled.

"Heaven," said be, "will cease to persecute you at last, and in the meantime why should you despair? My small possessions you know are entirely at your command, and I have enough about me for any present occasion."

"Alas! respected Maurice," returned Claudio, "when shall I ever make

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you amends? Indeed could I ever do so? never, never can I conceal the obligations I owe you. It is not enough that you have devoted the whole of your life to my advantage; that you now wander from your home on my account! Better that I were no more. My exit will leave no blank in the creation."

"Indeed," interrupted Maurice, "you are wrong. Many are the inducements of a young man such as you to live. But come, let us keep up our spirits until we have found or revenged your brother; it will be time enough then to die."

Maurice now enjoined him to take repose, and refused to talk with him longer. A calm sleep soon closed his eye-lids; and after a slumber of two hours, he awoke so considerably recovered, that he besought Maurice to get the portmanteau, and assist him to dress, assuring him that he felt quite equal to quitting his bed. Maurice did so, and began to dress him, which operation, though he knew not why, he was anxious to have performed with all imaginable care.

When he was dressed, he dispatched Maurice with his respects to the baron and baroness, requesting that he might be allowed personally to offer his thanks for their hospitality. The baroness returned him a suitable answer, and desired Roland to conduct him to the sitting-room. That surly veteran, while he viewed the person of Claudio, almost forgot his errand; until perceiving that he was noticed by the object of his scrutiny, he led the way, and desired the signor to follow, who could not help experiencing some disagreeable sensations on finding himself so much the wonder of the family. But he forgot this at the sight of Caroline, who was seated in the parlour. She was no less struck with the graceful figure which now presented itself before her, not the less interesting for the pale countenance occasioned by his recent accident; and she felt a real pleasure in reflecting that she had in some measure effected the recovery of a person who appeared so amiable. Nor did she alone experience delight at this interview; for Claudio, as he looked at her, wished himself again an invalid, that he may again be attended by so charming a nurse. He paid his compliments, and expressed his gratitude with the most animated expression; yet did Caroline think his eyes spoke more than his words. She received his thanks with some confusion, observing that she could assume no merit to herself, and declared her concern that he should so far overrate the performance of a mere act of humanity, and concluded by modestly expressing a hope that the world contained none who would not do as much, or more to alleviate the distress of a fellow creature.

Claudio persisted in his obligations, but the entrance of the baroness divided his attentions, and he paid to her the warmest acknowledgments for the admission she had given him into the castle. He enquired after the health of the baron, and was informed that his disorder had taken a favourable turn, and that he was much better.

The conversation now changed, and both ladies discovered with pleasure that the mind of their guest bore proportion to his manly and elegant ap-

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pearance. He discoursed on every subject with ease and judgment, and they could not fail to observe that he was an amateur in the arts and sciences. In an interval of the conversation, he seemed attracted by the paintings which decorated the room, and they began to take a survey of them. They had examined and criticised several, when casting his eyes on a portrait which hung behind the door, Claudio suddenly turned pale. Caroline observed it, and asked if he was ill: he answered in the negative; but still steadfastly surveying the portrait, at length he said:

"Lady, I pray you inform me of whom this is the resemblance?"

"Of the baron�s former wife," replied Caroline.

"The wife of the Baron de Zindorf ?"

"Yes, sir."

Claudio paused for a moment, then taking a miniature from his bosom, "at least," said he, "this has escaped the robber�s search." He held it in his hand, and comparing it for some time with great earnestness with the portrait, he said:�

"Pray, madam, has the baron been elevated to his rank, or does he inherit it from his ancestors?"

"Assuredly from his ancestors," replied Caroline, in surprise at his question.

Claudio returned the miniature to his bosom with a sigh, after which he appeared absorbed in deep melancholy, and consequently less companionable.

The idea of some favourite mistress occurred to Caroline, and filled her mind with something like displeasure, yet why she knew not, and she took herself severely to task for it. She could not believe her heart affected; yet she found it difficult again to address the stranger. Engrossed in their own ideas, they would each most unaccountably and suddenly have forgot the presence of the other had not the baroness seasonably re-entered the room, followed by Roland with refreshments. She strove to appear cheerful, and her unaffected politeness, while it banished constraint, inspired confidence in her guest. Indeed it re-animated the spirits of Claudio so effectually, that the portrait, and the eager glances of Roland, who was not capable of looking agreeably, were not able to check him.

That night, as the baron was fast recovering, and talked of leaving his room, the baroness thought it advisable to acquaint him of the circumstance of the stranger�s admission into the castle. He heard her frowningly.

"I am surprised, madam," said he, when she had finished, "that you should act in a manner you were sensible would be disagreeable to me, and that you should now expect my approbation."

"I wish I had more reason to expect it," replied the baroness, " but the claims of humanity are not to be superceded."

The baron remained silent for some time; at length he said:�

"You will, if possible, get rid of the stranger to-night, but if he remains here until to-morrow I must see him, which I wish to avoid."

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The baroness, whose delicacy and politeness would have suffered severely in abruptly desiring Claudio to depart, could not resolve to obey this implied injunction. She determined, therefore, to leave the event to chance, and the baron an office much more congenial with his disposition than her own.

In the meantime the interesting Claudio failed not to cultivate the good opinion which he observed Caroline to entertain for him. Yet in the pauses of their conversation he was frequently absent.

"Why," would he say to himself, "hath fortune thus dealt with me? Why am I thus exposed to the charms, or unable to crush the infant passion I feel for the most lovely of her sex? or, alas! if these things must be, why are the intricacies of my situation such as to destroy all presumptuous hopes?"

Thus mentally did he lament his fate, and accuse that Providence which, did not its benevolence and mercy exceed human conception, would have deserted the creature who doubted its protection.

The evening was fine, and Caroline, with the view of diverting their guest, led him to their little garden, which was cultivated wholly by the hands of Francisco. As they were returning, Maurice stopped them, desiring a moment�s conversation with his master. Claudio ordered him to speak, as he could have no communication improper for the ears of the lady present. Maurice was obstinate, and Caroline requesting him to comply, he stepped on one side with his servant. She would have retired into the castle, but was prevented, and her steps arrested by observing the impassioned gestures of both master and man, during their conference.

After some time Claudio returned to her.

"I would conjure you," said he to Caroline, "by the eminent beauties of your person, and the charms of that mind which I never yet saw equalled, to hear me�to assist me�and to pity me. Were I not convinced that these qualifications are trivial in your eye, and that you value yourself rather on the most exquisite of all endowments�a feeling heart."

Caroline was astonished; her frame trembled, her voice faultered.

"What would you have me understand?" said she.

"Alas, madam! I can scarcely say: be so good, however, as to take one turn on the terrace with me, that we may converse together without being overheard, or even seen."

"I am not accustomed to grant such private audience," replied Caroline, gravely.

"Ah, madam," cried Claudio, impatiently, "it is absolutely necessary that you should. Yet, misunderstand me not; the veneration I feel for you, prevents my harbouring for a moment any idea inconsistent with that sentiment. I acknowledge, and you must pardon the premature declaration which necessity enforces, that I love you, that I adore you; and your esteem is to me of infinitely more value than life; yet for a thousand lives would I not at this moment ask you to bestow one thought on a man who might draw down ruin and destruction upon you."

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"I am astonished," replied Caroline, faintly; "I do not comprehend your meaning."

"Suffer yourself then to be persuaded�we shall be observed here.�Consent, lest the blood of two persons should hereafter lie heavy at your heart."

Caroline was affected, and over-awed by the solemn earnestness of his manner, and on his taking her hand, suffered him to lead her to a place where they would be less observed from the windows of the castle. Claudio did not remain silent long, but entreated her before he explained himself further, to give him a description of the person of the Baron de Zindorf.

She complied.

"My suspicions are then unfounded," replied Claudio. "It is not�" he stopped.

"Whom?" asked Caroline.

"Ah! I must not say more at present."

"At least," said Caroline, "explain to me why you said I might draw upon myself the blood of two persons?"

"I know not," said he, "how to refuse so reasonable a request; and yet you must pardon me.�Alas! I fear a mournful event demands my silence. I have a secret,�but unless I can develope it, it must die with me."

As Caroline made no effort to speak, he continued:�

"I have, however, a petition to make; you will think it a strange one�perhaps you will refuse me; perhaps you ought to do so; and perhaps it is not in your power to comply."

"If I can with propriety," said Caroline, "I will."

"It is this, then," rejoined he, "I must remain in this castle some few days longer."

Caroline declared herself surprised that he should think it necessary to make such a preface to so simple a desire, especially to her who was only a sojourner in the castle. She added, that she doubted not but that the baron and baroness would be happy to entertain him.

"Far otherwise," returned Claudio, "for it has been intimated to my servant that the baron is disgusted with our intrusions, is displeased at our stay, and that we shall do well to save ourselves the mortification of being told to depart."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Caroline, "from whom had you the information?"

"From a domestic by the name of Roland; but Maurice has in the meantime seen something here which rivets me to the spot."

"And what would you have me do?" asked Caroline.

"I would have you, and I intreat of you for heaven�s sake, and by whatever you hold most dear and sacred, to conceal me. Your refusal I dread! yet should you reject my prayer, here I must and will remain; though to do so openly, will, I fear, prevent the end I have in view."

"You have cancelled my good opinion," said Caroline, sternly. "I am

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astonished at your presumption, and not a little concerned that any part of my conduct should have encouraged you to make so improper a request."

She turned from him in apparent displeasure.

The dejected Claudio followed in silence, until recollecting himself, he overtook her.

"Be merciful," cried he, "and do not discover the request I have made; although you may deem it improper to grant it, you will destroy an unhappy man if you betray him. Hear me, I beseech; I will explain all, for I cannot bear your anger. I have reasons of the most cogent importance, deign to receive my unbounded confidence. Know, then, that I am not an Italian, nor is my name Claudio."

"Your name, signor," answered Caroline, "is of little consequence to me, since I discover that you are unworthy of my esteem."

They were by this time in the corridor, and Caroline immediately left him, and proceeded to her own apartment.

Claudio entered the sitting-room, where he found the baroness, but he could not tranquilize his perturbed spirits, and was no longer the agreable companion. He waited impatiently for Caroline�s appearance, that he might endeavour to make his peace, but she appeared no more that evening; and after a slight repast, he and the baroness separated for the night; but previous to her departure, she informed him that he would see the baron on the following morning.

The affection of the baroness led her directly to her niece�s chamber. She found her preparing for bed, and enquired after her indisposition with great anxiety. Caroline begged pardon for absenting herself from supper, and alleged as her excuse, that she had a violent pain in her head. The tender-hearted baroness, who perceived that she really looked ill, observed, that the fatigue she had suffered had been too much for her spirits, and be-sought her to compose herself to sleep, and take the utmost care of her health. Kissing her cheek with the utmost affection, she bade her good night, and retired.

Alithee now occupied the bed of Namine in Caroline�s apartment, who, since the illness of the baron, had been engaged in attending upon her lady. The good old woman had just placed a lamp on the hearth, and began to undress, when Caroline, who felt little disposition to sleep, and could not detach her thoughts from the stranger, asked her what she thought of him.

"He is certainly very handsome, ma�amselle," replied Alithee, with a sigh, "for he struck me as being the exact likeness of a person who I know has been dead some years; and whose fate was so melancholy and remarkable."

"Might I know his name?"

"His name," cried Alithee, sobbing, "ah, that I could forget it entirely! or that I had never known him!�My poor dear lady too,�he drew down misery on her also!�Excuse, ma�amselle, these tears, they flow on her account. She was the gentlest lady that ever servant obeyed."

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"Repress them not, they do you infinite honour. But, my good Alithee, you have much raised my curiosity, and if you do not refuse to gratify it, I shall be very thankful. From the broken hints I have heard from Namine, I conjecture that the late baroness� fate was attended with many mysterious circumstances."

"Namine is an idle girl," replied Alithee, "and thinks of nothing but talking, and knows not how to keep a secret; but I remember the old proverb, �A wise head makes a slow tongue.� Besides, I should think it as imprudent as unsafe, to relate to you particularly the circumstances with which I am acquainted."

Caroline, whose sense of her own dignity not all her misfortunes could destroy, was displeased with this familiarity of Alithee, and she disdained further to solicit that confidence which had been so abruptly refused. But the mother of Namine, however discreet she formerly might have been, had, with her increasing years, become infected with the usual attendant on age, namely, garrulity. No sooner, therefore, did she perceive by Caroline�s silence that she was offended, and did not intend to ask any more questions, then she was seized with an ardent desire to inform her of every circumstance.

"To be sure," cried she, "if the baron was to know of my telling you these things, he would be the death of me; but you have so won my heart, ma�amselle, that I can refuse you nothing; therefore, if you will promise me never to mention it again, I will tell you the whole story from beginning to ending."

Caroline, who perceived her frailty, assured her she might depend on her discretion.

But as Alithee said it would take her some time to recollect all the facts, she desired her, as it was now so late, to defer her relation until the following evening.

Soon after this, sleep closed the eyes of Caroline; her rest was disturbed with dreams; terrific objects presented themselves before her, and she awoke in indescribable horror. The lamp still gave a good light; she looked around her apartment, and saw Alithee quietly asleep in her bed. Accusing herself for suffering these fancies to distress her, she tried to compose herself once more. Scarcely were her eyes closed, when she believed herself to be transported to the chamber across the stairs; she recollected it perfectly. On the bed sat a lady whom she knew by her likeness to the portrait, to be the former wife of the baron. Her posture was melancholy; and her face, which reclined on her hand, was pale and wan. Caroline�s attention was, however, more particularly engaged by a scene in one corner of the room. A human skeleton rendered more horrible by being without a head, was kneeling before the Baron de Zindorf; and notwithstanding that loss, with the inconsistency so common to dreams, was deprecating his vengeance.

"No, Claudio," exclaimed the baron, " hadst thou a thousand lives

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I would sacrifice them all. This stroke precipitates thee to the lowest hell."

The baron�s sword pierced between the ribs of the spectre, who fell. Caroline shrieked and awoke. She now determined to sleep no more that night, but wearied nature again yielded to the drowsy god, and she was again tormented with a renewal of these distressing visions; she no longer supposed herself to be in the chamber before mentioned, but that she was in her own bed. The figure of the late baroness approached the foot of it.

"Why," asked the apparition, "does Caroline Mecklenburg resist the decrees of fate? Claudio requires nothing inimical to the dignity of virtue; he only seeks to penetrate a mystery, which is reserved for his discovery. The blood of the innocent murdered calls aloud for vengeance!�Beware that thou art not found the abettor of murderers!"

Caroline attended in awful submission to the speech of the vision, which thus continued:

"Behold my disfigured countenance, and judge for thyself."

The pallid face of the spectre began to change, and gradually the terrific form vanished from her sight.

"Gracious heaven," exclaimed Caroline, starting from her pillow, "what mean these horrid visions? I will no longer trust myself in bed, lest something more dreadful should appear. Alithee! Alithee! awake, ere I lose my senses."

Alithee, aroused by the noise, demanded what was the matter.

Caroline related her dreams; and when she mentioned the words she fancied the baron used to Claudio, Alithee desired her to repeat them. And on Caroline�s doing so with some emphasis, "surely," said old Alithee, "there is something strange in the wind; these were the words, changing the name, I remember them well, for I entered my lady�s chamber that moment, which my lord the baron used to M. Vileroy when he killed him."

The coincidence of her dream, and the hints of Namine, again aroused the curiosity of Caroline, before sufficiently excited, so greatly, that as she could not think of sleeping any more that night, she entreated Alithee to begin the promised relation.

"You must know, ma�amselle," said Alithee, "that my lady was very handsome, and notwithstanding her youth, for my lady was married very young, had many suitors; but her father, who was a gentleman by birth, though his fortunes were decayed, held her at a high price, and would not hear of her marrying one under the rank of a grandee. The baron at that time went frequently at Vienna, and seeing her there at a ball, was so much

struck with her beauty, that he fell desperately in love with her.

"But why should I tell this tale, when I know that my dear lady has told it herself so much better? Yes, ma�amselle, my lady put it down in writing, and I dare say I could find the paper, for it was shut up in a private drawer, which my lord the baron knew nothing about, in a large chest she