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so tiresome to you?—By persuaded to change your intention. Your aunt will be most unhappy to part with you. Indeed we shall both miss greatly."

"My lord, you cannot have forgot your language to me two days ago," replied Caroline. "It is in consequence of knowing myself a disagreeable addition to your family, that I intend withdrawing myself from it."

"Oh! my good cousin," said the wily baron, "you must overlook those hasty expressions. I was sick at the time, and my mind was not at ease. Come, let us be reconciled, I pray you." And he advanced to take her hand.

She gave it to him. "I would wish, my lord, to part friends; but termination is unalterable."

"At least, then, you will be persuaded to remain with us a few days longer."

"Excuse me, my lord; my aunt is apprised of my intention, and my solution is fixed."

"I am sorry for it, as Roland is most particularly engaged to-day."

"I asked, sir, for Francisco, who is seldom engaged in the house."

"He is also extremely busy, and cannot be spared."

"I will then speak to my aunt," said Caroline. "The convent is but a few miles distant, and I am sure she will permit Namine to conduct me to the cottage of Alithee, who will attend me the rest of the way."

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"To the cottage of Alithee!" exclaimed the baron, evidently striving to suppress his emotion, "indeed she shall not. Do you suppose I would suffer you to depart from my castle under such improper protection?"

"I have no fears about walking so far with them," replied Caroline; "and I hope, my lord, you were sincere the other morning when you told me I was no prisoner here?"

The baron bit his lips, and was turning away; but Caroline was not to be thus disconcerted. Though naturally mild, and of a most sweet and flexible disposition, yet had she the courage to repress insult, and spirit to resist oppression. She, therefore, followed the baron, and said, "this conduct, my lord, is extraordinary, and I must inform you——"

He interrupted her. "Not more so than your sudden resolution of leaving us this day, ma’amselle. But if you are so unforgiving that you cannot pardon words spoken rashly, and in spleen, at least defer your departure for one day, as it would be much more convenient for me to send you to-morrow."

"I pardon you, my lord, most truly for the expressions you have made use of, and wish to think of them no more. But my resolution is fixed, and I shall leave the castle this day."

"What can be your motive?"

"To own that I act without a motive would be to convict myself of caprice," replied Caroline; "and I, therefore, confess that I have the strongest reasons for forming the determination I have done."

The baron mused for a moment, and then said, "Well, madam, as you are so resolute to depart, I must regulate my motives accordingly, and I go to issue the necessary orders."

He quitted the apartment, and Caroline had now no remaining task but that of seeing Claudio, and imparting to him her departure from the castle, as well as the information where the manuscript was deposited, for she durst make no further attempt to procure it herself. Wishing, however, first to learn the hour she was to set out, and to see the baron engaged in some distant part of the building, she resolved to steal quietly to her aunt’s room, and communicate what had passed between her and the baron; but what was her consternation when she perceived the door of her ante-room to be securely locked on the outside! Every suspicion was now confirmed, and the unhappy Caroline looked upon herself as devoted to destruction. She knocked loudly at the door and called for help, in hopes that the sound of her voice might reach the baroness; but no one came to her relief.

Exhausted with fatigue and terror, she sat down at length and wept bitterly. By degrees the excess of her agitation subsided, and she began to collect her thoughts, so as to be able to debate on the steps she was now to pursue. Alas! what remained to her but flying to the turret and claim protection from Claudio and his friend Maurice? Yet what assistance could they afford her, shut up as they were like herself, and wholly in the power of the baron? Dared she to expect otherwise than that the life of

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Claudio would be sacrificed, as had been that of his brother, the ill-fated Vileroy? Her blood chilled at the idea, and she determined to brave everything rather than devote him to destruction. Yet, horrible thought! was she not given up to the count—to the most dreaded of all mortals—the assassin of her father—and the destroyer of her adored mother? Should she not forfeit the protection of Providence if she distrusted its power to protect the innocent, and neglected to exert herself to escape from the evil designs which were so plainly forming against her? Claudio had ascended at her window; by his assistance, and that, of Maurice, might she not escape with them in the early part of the night, whilst the baron was engaged at supper, and Roland employed in attending them? This plan appeared so practicable that her heart throbbed with less violence, and her spirits revived as she dwelt upon it. She began to debate which would be the most proper moment to ascend to the turret and acquaint Claudio of her situation, and the plan she had formed, as well as to apprise him that the next apartment was occupied, and caution him to make no noise on the stairs. Most probably the baron would not immediately return to her apartment, and she thought it most expedient to go before the approach of the dinner hour, which she concluded would be served to her by the baron himself, as he had become her goaler. Besides, she had promised Claudio to see him the first instant she could, and she reflected that she was keeping him in painful suspense. As cautiously as possible, therefore, she opened the panel and lightly entered the turret.

No Claudio appeared to her view: the chamber was empty, and the trap-door down!

She tried to raise it with her utmost strength; but it resisted all her efforts, and appeared to her to be fastened underneath.

She stood for some time in mute despair. Every hope of escape—of safety—was now lost to her! But what could have become of Claudio and Maurice? Ah! too sure they had been discovered in the subterraneous vaults, and were become, like herself, prisoners to the insatiate baron. She listened at the trap-door, but all was silent beneath. Again she tried to raise it, and became more than ever convinced that it was fastened below. Horror-struck, she retraced her footsteps, and sat down at the door of the ante-room, every limb shaking with fear, and an icy coldness chilling the current of her blood. How long she remained in this state she knew not, but she was aroused from it by a noise at the door, and the baron immediately appeared, followed by Roland, who sat down a large tray with dinner things placed upon it, and then departed.

"You see, my fair cousin," said the baron, with a malignant smile, "that it is not my intention to starve you. But I leave you now to your repast; after which, I shall have the pleasure of enjoying a tete-a-tete with you." And so saying, he departed.

Caroline had viewed him with a cool steady air. This intimation of visiting her after dinner, instead of encreasing her dismay, in some measure

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revived her spirits, for she thought she should at least be able to discover his views, if she could not persuade him to renounce them. The faintness and extreme languor which she felt, compelled her to taste of the viands which he had brought her, and she found herself so much renovated, that she was able to argue herself into that presence of mind which she usually possessed. The baron did not long keep her waiting. Roland, as before, followed him, and carried away the tray; after which the baron thus addressed her:—

"Your repugnance, ma’amselle, to oblige your aunt and me with your company a few days longer, has compelled me to pursue the measures I have taken. Young ladies of your turn of mind are generally so pertinacious and romantic, that I really feared you might adopt some step which might reflect upon us as well as yourself."

"Did you fear anything, my lord, which reflects upon yourself, you would not have adopted measures so disgraceful to you, as is your conduct to me," replied Caroline; "and if you really thought me capable of acting with impropriety, you would rejoice in my departure, instead of using force to detain me. But is needless to controvert so absurd a subterfuge; I have, therefore, only to say, that as your guest, you have no right to detain me here, and that I demand instantly to be set at liberty."

"And where would you go, my sweet little cousin?"

"I have already told you, my lord, although, to you, I do not think myself accountable for any one of my actions."

"Assure yourself, ma’amselle, that I am one of the most zealous of your friends. As a proof of it, I have a proposal to make to you, which will restore you to that affluence in the world from which you have fallen, and place you in a situation brilliant beyond your utmost hopes."

"If a choice be not left me," replied Caroline, "the proposal can neither be kind or friendly; and as I am kept a prisoner, it appears probable that it is with a view to force my compliance. If so, be assured, my lord, that my own inclinations shall decide for me, and not the will of another."

"But you have not yet heard the name of the man who adores you, and who will lay himself, his title, and his fortune at your feet."

"True; but all these stratagems could only be planned for one man; and of him I have such an abhorrence that even a suspicion of the sort, inspires me with indignation."

"Name this unfortunate, I pray you," said the baron with an ironical smile.

"Your guest, Count Durlack."

"Pshaw—your prejudices are childish and absurd."

"Know you not, my lord, that he was the traducer of my mother’s fame—the murderer of my father—the base destroyer of my happiness, and my fortune?"

"Your father perished on the scaffold, and by the laws of his country, not by the hands of Count Durlack. He certainly did adore your mother;

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she was his first love, and ever reigned solely in his heart until he beheld you. Your exact resemblance of her has revived all the tender emotion of his bosom. When he last saw you, you were scarcely more than a child; now you are improved into her second self. He was not the destroyer of your mother’s honour, her own indiscretion did it."

"I find, my lord, you are either unacquainted with the circumstances, or prejudiced in your opinion, by your friendship for the count. The child of those victims whom he devoted to death and infamy, to gratify his revenge, will never, even for one instant, associate with the author of their wrongs. And you, my lord, who, by your union with my aunt, are now allied to our house, should have protected me from the insult of such a proposal."

The baron affected to laugh. "Very heroically resolved, indeed," cried he; "but beware, madam, how you speak in such unqualified terms of the count. His power you know, and his resentment you may dread. For my own part, I see so great an advantage in your union with him, that I hall exercise the power of a relation, and try to make you happy in

Spite e of yourself."

"All the power you possess over me, my lord," answered Caroline, coolly, "is to give me advice; and when I find that to be repugnant to my own sense of feeling, happiness, or honour, you must pardon me if I say that my own ideas of what is right shall be the rule of my conduct."

"Do you not fear, that by rejecting Count Durlack you should make him inveterate enemy?"

"No; he has robbed me of everything that was valuable to me. He can do no more, except he take my life, and sooner would I part with that than listen to his proposals. You will tell him this, my lord, if you please, without the least extenuation."

"I shall convey no message to him. Your answer, ma’amselle, shall be given in person."

"I protest against seeing the horrible wretch again," said Caroline. "Your utmost force shall not compel me to speak to him. I demand my liberty," said she, rising, and moving towards the door.

The baron interrupted her. "More resolute spirits than yours," said he, "have been made to submit; and you quit not these walls but as the wife Count Durlack."

Although terrified at this menace beyond utterance, yet Caroline rallied her drooping spirits, and answered—"The wife of Count Durlack I never will be; sooner than that, I will submit to any punishment which the injustice and barbarity of the Baron de Zindorf may inflict upon me."

The dignified manner in which she expressed herself awed even the baron for an instant; but, recovering himself, he said, "Then upon yourself let all that hereafter follows rest; for my promise is given, and it shall be performed."

He shut the door after him with violence, and turned the key twice.

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The sound struck upon the anguished heart of Caroline; but she reflected that if she had to combat oppression she must not yield to despondency. Her own resolution was, alas! all she had now to depend upon; and if she suffered sorrow to enervate her mind, how would she be capable of exertion? The turret again occurred to her. Perhaps Claudio and his friend might by this time be returned to it. She hastened to it as the spot on which hung her last, her only hope. She found it empty as before, and the trap-door as firmly fixed.

As she descended the stairs slowly, it struck her that the doors of the apartment, preparing for the count, might possibly remain open. Yet how could she dare to venture in it, when there was so great a degree of probability that some person or other might be employed in it? She paused—stopped at the panel, and listened with breathless attention. All was still as death. She gently removed the picture. No one was there, but the apartment bore the appearance of cleanliness and comfort. Oh, thought she, if I can pass this way, I can easily secret myself in some corner of the castle until night, and I may then find that part of the moat which has, on two occasions, been found fordable. What dangers can I encounter there, equal to those which now threaten me? She tried the door. It yielded to her pressure, and she found herself in an anti-room similar to her own. She flew to the entrance, anticipating an instantaneous release: but, fatal to her hopes, it was firmly fastened on the outside. Prudence now suggested to her an immediate retreat, and with a

palpitating heart she regained her own apartment. She next thought of the windows. Claudio had ascended one of them with little apparent difficulty. She cautiously opened it, and looked down upon the terrace. It was a fearful height; and the pillar he had clung to, was too distant for her to reach; even could it have afforded her the assistance he had found from it.

The idea of an escape through this window, she, however, could not relinquish, and resolved as soon as the inhabitants of the castle were retired to rest, that she would tie the sheets together, and endeavour to descend. Consoled by this resolution, she closed the window, and returned into the anti-room, where she determined to remain. Several hours elapsed before any sounds struck the ear of poor Caroline, but just before the close of evening, Roland entered with a light and supper. The baron stood at the door, and appeared as if not intending to enter. But a thought seemed to strike him, and he whispered Roland, who returning again in a few minutes, proceeded to the bedchamber, and Caroline heard him nail down the windows. Those in the anti-room next underwent the same operation. Still the baron spoke not.

Caroline addressed him.

"Why, my lord," said she, "am I not permitted to see my aunt? I beseech you, to grant me this indulgence."

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"No compliance will be granted to your wishes, madam, until you show compliance to those of others."

"Oh! my beloved aunt," exclaimed Caroline, "you too must be a prisoner, or you would not desert me."

The baron darted at her an angry look, and closing the door, locked it as before.

Caroline now saw herself deprived of every hope, except from the protection of heaven, and throwing herself devoutly upon her knees, she besought that power, whose arm chasteneth the wicked, and protects the innocent, so support her through this dreadful trial, and preserve her from the destruction which threatened her.

Somewhat composed by these pious effusions, she began to arrange how she should pass the night. That the baron should have penetrated her design, both with respect to the windows and doors of the adjoining apartment, surprised her much. It strengthened her dread that he had some sinister designs in view, or he would not thus guard with such extraordinary forethought, every avenue to her escape. If a forced marriage with the detestable Count Durlack was his only aim, she thought her strength of resolution could withstand their united efforts. But the certain knowledge she had of the extent of the villany which the count was capable of, and the similar suspicions which the perusal of the manuscript had given her of the baron, led her to fear the most diabolical designs were formed against her. The count’s removal to the next chamber—the vicinity of the turret to the subterraneous vaults—and the dungeon, all passed across her affrighted imagination. Despair again took possession of her. She arose, to see if by any means she could secure the panel. She crammed into every little crevice whatever she could find in her room, that might prevent the moving of it; and she had, in her opinion, nearly accomplished this, when, what had not occurred her before, now presented itself to her imagination—that the baron had ready access to her through the anti-room.

Hope again fled, and she sunk upon the floor. Rousing herself, however, from this state of imbecility, she reproached herself, not only for her pusillanimity, at a moment, when the energy of her mind ought to be exerted, but for her want of confidence in heaven. She now seated herself calmly at her window. The night was dark, but innumerable stars glittered in the vast concave, and the most solemn silence everywhere prevailed. It was a scene well adapted to the sadness of her soul, and she was unconscious how the time passed, when she was suddenly startled by a sound proceeding from the passage to the turret. Could it be Claudio and Maurice?—She sprang forward at the idea, and placing her ear to the panel, listened with trembling hope.—An effort was made to open it, but it resisted, in consequence of the fastenings she had placed there. A second attempt was made to move it, with some force.—Ah! thought she, Claudio would have announced his approach in a more gentle manner, and she remained silent. A short and fearful interval suc-

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ceeded—when she heard a voice, which, although he spoke in an undertone, she knew to be the baron’s, say, "this I am sure, will force it," and in an instant, but with a loud crash, the panel was broken to pieces.

In a moment the picture was removed, and Count Durlack stood before her.

"Detestable wretch," exclaimed Caroline, "how dare you thus approach me?"

"Because I fear not the indignation which now animates that beauteous countenance, which is more lovely in my eyes for the anger it evinces. Let me breathe at your feet the most perfect vows of love that were eve offered up at the shrine of beauty. The passion I felt for your mother was greater than ever man felt for woman. In you I see all her charms revived, as when she first met my sight. She was enthralled—you are free. Listen to me, for by heaven you shall be mine."

He had thrown himself upon his knees before her, but Caroline, appalled by his actions, had retreated to a distance from him.

"Such professions from the murderer of both my parents," answered she, "can only be received as you must expect them to be—with horror!"

"You charge me unjustly," said he. "Your father was an assassin and perished on the scaffold—your mother, though deaf to my solicitations, yielded to another, and her infamy was the effect of her indiscretion, not of any pursuit of mine."

"Blessed spirits of my devoted parents," exclaimed the now agitated Caroline, "is there no thunderbolt from heaven ready to crush this unfeeling monster for this outrage on your characters—and insult offered to your unhappy daughter? But know, sir, that my governess, Madame Zylstraw, a prey to remorse for the guilt she had committed, made a full confession of your crimes and her own, before her death, in the presence of my mother and myself."

The count for a moment looked disconcerted; but recovering himself he said, "I know not what confession Madame Zylstraw might have been bribed to, neither indeed, do I care. I love you passionately, and that sentiment possesses my whole soul. The Baron de Zindorf is now become your guardian, he is my friend, and sanctions our union. I will elevate you to a life of splendour, beyond your former fortunes, and in my arm you will forget such silly fancies as now occupy you."

"Never, Count Durlack. The most horrible death that you and the baron could invent, would be bliss compared to being your wife."

"As my mistress, then, will I possess you," cried the count, who looked as he spoke, all the black purposes of his soul.

"Thou durst not approach me with such a purpose," replied Caroline, with a look of resolute virtue, which awed even the count for a moment. "The baron dares not assist thee in so villanous an attempt. Not only the spirits of my departed parents, but even those of the murdered baroness and Vileroy would interpose."