resolve. You approve? That's well. All success to you, Fenwick. I will canter back and get my portmanteau ready and the carriage out, in time for the five o'clock train."

So then he, too, had seen-what? I did not dare and I did not desire to ask him. But he, at least, was not walking in his sleep! Did we both dream, or neither?

CHAPTER LIII.

THERE is an instance of the absorbing tyranny of every-day life which must have struck all such of my readers as have ever experienced one of those portents which are so at variance with every-day life, that the ordinary epithet bestowed on them is "supernatural."

explains them away. Such phenomena, I say, are infinitely more numerous than would appear from the instances currently quoted and dismissed with a jest; for few of those who have witnessed them are disposed to own it, and they who only hear of them through others, however trustworthy, would not impugn their character for common sense by professing a belief to which common sense is a merciless persecutor. But he who reads my assertion in the quiet of his own room will, perhaps, pause, ransack his memory, and find there, in some dark corner which he excludes from "the babbling and remorseless day," a pale recollection that proves the assertion not untrue.

And be my readers few or many, there will be no small proportion of them to whom, once, at least in the course of their existence, a something strange and eirie has occurred -a something which perplexed and baffled rational conjecture, and struck on those chords which vibrate to superstition. It may have been only a dream unaccountably verified an undefinable presentiment or forewarning; but up from such slighter and vaguer tokens of the realm of marvel up to the portents of ghostly apparitions or haunted chambers, I believe that the greater number of persons arrived at middle age, however instructed the class, however civilized the land, however sceptical the period, to which they belong, have either in themselves experienced, or heard recorded by intimate associates whose veracity they accept as indisputable in all ordinary trans-mind seeks to rid itself of an enigma actions of life-phenomena which are not to be solved by the wit that mocks them, nor, perhaps, always and entirely, to the contentment of the reason or the philosophy that

And it is, I say, an instance of the absorbing tyranny of every-day life, that whenever some such startling incident disturbs its regular tenor of thought and occupation, that same every-day life hastens to bury in its sands the object which has troubled its surface; the more unaccountable, the more prodigious has been the phenomenon which has scared and astounded us; the more, with involuntary effort, the

which might disease the reason that tries to solve it. We go about our mundane business with renewed avidity; we feel the necessity of proving to ourselves that we are

still sober practical men, and refuse | re-imagining dangers not to occur to be unfitted for the world which again, or, if they do occur, from we know, by unsolicited visitations which the experience undergone from worlds into which every can suggest no additional safeglimpse is soon lost amid shadows. guards. The current of our life, And it amazes us to think how soon indeed, like that of the rivers, is such incidents, though not actually most rapid in the midmost channel, forgotten, though they can be re- where all streams are alike comcalled and recalled too vividly paratively slow in the depth and for health-at our will, are, never- along the shores in which each life, theless, thrust, as it were, out as each river, has a character pecuof the mind's sight as we cast liar to itself. And hence, those who into lumber-rooms the crutches would sail with the tide of the world, and splints that remind us of a as those who sail with the tide of a broken limb which has recovered river, hasten to take the middle of its strength and tone. It is a feli- the stream, as those who sail against citous peculiarity in our organiza- the tide are found clinging to the tion, which all members of my shore. I returned to my habitual profession will have noticed, how duties and avocations with renewed soon, when a bodily pain is once energy; I did not suffer my thoughts past, it becomes erased from the to dwell on the dreary wonders that recollection-how soon and how had haunted me, from the evening invariably the mind refuses to linger I first met Sir Philip Derval to the over and recall it. No man freed morning on which I had quitted an hour before from a raging tooth- the house of his heir: whether ache, the rack of a neuralgia, seats realities or hallucinations, no guess himself in his armchair to recollect of mine could unravel such marvels, and ponder upon the anguish he and no prudence of mine guard me has undergone. It is the same with against their repetition. But I had certain afflictions of the mind-not no fear that they would be repeated, with those that strike on our affec- any more than the man who had tions, or blast our fortunes, over- gone through shipwreck, or the shadowing our whole future with a hairbreadth escape from a fall sense of loss; but where a trouble down a glacier, fears again to be or calamity has been an accident, found in a similar peril. Margrave an episode in our wonted life, where had departed, whither I knew not, it affects ourselves alone, where it and, with his departure, ceased all is attended with a sense of shame sense of his influence. A certain and humiliation, where the pain of calm within me, a tranquillizing recalling it seems idle, and if in- feeling of relief, seemed to me like a dulged would almost madden us- pledge of permanent delivery. agonies of that kind we do not brood over as we do over the death or falsehood of beloved friends, or the train of events by which we are reduced from wealth to penury. No one, for instance, who has escaped from a shipwreck, from the brink of a precipice, from the jaws of a tiger, spends his days and nights in reviving his terrors past,

But that which did accompany and haunt me, through all my occupations and pursuits, was the melancholy remembrance of the love I had lost in Lilian. I heard from Mrs. Ashleigh, who still frequently visited me, that her daughter seemed much in the same quiet state of mind-perfectly reconciled to our separation-seldom mention

ing my name-if mentioning it, | off. I can render this more easy by with indifference; the only thing staying away. I will not return to remarkable in her state was her L- - till the matter has ceased to aversion to all society, and a kind of be the topic of talk, and at a dislethargy that would come over her, tance any excuse will be less quesoften in the daytime. She would tioned, and seem more natural. suddenly fall into sleep and so re- But still-still-let us hope still." main for hours, but a sleep that "Have you one ground for hope?" seemed very serene and tranquil, and from which she woke of herself. She kept much within her own room, and always retired to it when visitors were announced.

Perhaps so; but you will think it very frail and fallacious." "Name it, and let me judge." "One night-in which you were on a visit to Derval Court

Ay, that night."

دو

"Lilian woke me by a loud cry (she sleeps in the next room to me, and the door was left open); I hastened to her bedside in alarm; she was asleep, but appeared extremely agitated and convulsed. She kept calling on your name in a tone of passionate fondness, but as if in great terror. She cried, 'Do not go, Allen !-do not go !-you know not what you brave!-what you do!" Then she rose in her bed, clasping her hands. Her face was set and rigid: I tried to awake her, but could not. After a little time, she breathed a deep sigh, and murmured, 'Allen, Allen! dear love! did you not hear ?-did you not see me? What could thus baffle mat

Mrs. Ashleigh began reluctantly to relinquish the persuasion she had so long and so obstinately maintained, that this state of feeling towards myself and, indeed, this general change in Lilian-was but temporary and abnormal'; she began to allow that it was best to drop all thoughts of a renewed engagement -a future union. I proposed to see Lilian in her presence and in my professional capacity; perhaps some physical cause, especially for this lethargy, might be detected and removed. Mrs. Ashleigh owned to me that the idea had occurred to herself: she had sounded Lilian upon it; but her daughter had so resolutely opposed it—had said with so quiet a firmness "that all being over between us, a visit from me would be unwelcome and painful;" that Mrs. Ashleigh felt that an interview thus deprecated would only confirm estrangement. One day, in calling, she asked my advice whether it would not be better to try the effect of change of air and scene, and, in some other place, some other medical opinion might be taken? I approved of this sugges-had dreamed, except that she had tion with unspeakable sadness.

ter and traverse space but love and soul? Can you still doubt me, Allen ?-doubt that I love you now, shall love you evermore ?-yonder, yonder, as here below ?' She then sank back on her pillow, weeping, and then I woke her."

"And what did she say on waking ?"

"She did not remember what she

passed through some great terror; but added, with a vague smile, 'It is over, and I feel happy now.' Then she turned round and fell asleep again, but quietly as a child, thetears dried, the smile resting."

"Go, my dear friend, go; take

Lilian away from this place as soon | tients-I will come to the same as you can; divert her mind with place; she need not know of it-but fresh scenes. I hope!-I do hope! I must be by to watch, to hear your Let me know where you fix your-news of her. Heaven bless you for self. I will seize a holiday-I need what you have said! I hope!-I one; I will arrange as to my pa- do hope!"

CHAPTER LIV.

SÓME days after, I received a few lines from Mrs. Ashleigh. Her arrangements for departure were made. They were to start the next morning. She had fixed on going into the north of Devonshire, and staying some weeks either at Ilfracombe or Lynton, whichever place Lilian preferred. She would write as soon as they were settled.

I was up at my usual early hour the next morning. I resolved to go out towards Mrs. Ashleigh's house, and watch, unnoticed, where I might, perhaps, catch a glimpse of Lilian as the carriage that would convey her to the railway passed my hiding-place.

did not like the journey. She may have crept away to some young friend's house. But I talk when you should talk: tell me all."

Little enough to tell! Lilian had seemed unusually cheerful the night before, and pleased at the thought of the excursion. Mother and daughter retired to rest early: Mrs. Ashleigh saw Lilian sleeping quietly before she herself went to bed. She woke betimes in the morning, dressed herself, went into the next room to call Lilian-Lilian was not there. No suspicion of flight occurred to her. Perhaps her daughter might be up already, and gone downstairs, remembering something she might wish to pack and take with her on the journey. Mrs. Ashleigh was confirmed in this idea when she noticed that her own room door was left open. She went downstairs, met a maidservant in the hall, who told her, with alarm and surprise,' that both the street "Heavens! What has happened?" and garden doors were found un"She has left-she is gone-gone closed. No one had seen Lilian. away! Oh, Allen! how ?-whither? Mrs. Ashleigh now became seriously Advise me. What is to be done ?" uneasy. On remounting to her "Come in-compose yourself- daughter's room, she missed Lilian's tell me all-clearly, quickly. Lilian bonnet and mantle. The house and gone?-gone away? Impossible! garden were both searched in vain. She must be hid somewhere in the There could be no doubt that house-the garden; she, perhaps, Lilian had gone-must have stolen

I was looking impatiently at the clock; it was yet two hours before the train by which Mrs. Ashleigh proposed to leave. A loud ring at my bell! I opened the door. Mrs. Ashleigh rushed in, falling on my breast.

"Lilian! Lilian!"

noiselessly at night through her it. But my child's honour! What mother's room, and let herself out will the world think?" of the house and through the garden.

“Do you think she could have received any letter, any message, any visitor unknown to you?"

Not for the world cared I at that moment. I could think only of Lilian, and without one suspicion that imputed blame to her.

"Be quiet, be silent; perhaps she has gone on some visit, and will return. Meanwhile, leave inquiry

"I cannot think it. Why do you ask? Oh, Allen, you do not believe there is any accomplice in this dis- to me." appearance! No, you do not believe i

CHAPTER LV.

"Oh yes, it is known where he is. He wrote to order the effects which he had left here to be sent to Penrith."

IT seemed incredible that Lilian | any colouring to so calumnious a could wander far without being suggestion! Margrave has not been observed. I soon ascertained that in the town for many days. No she had not gone away by the rail- one knows even where he is." way-by any public conveyancehad hired no carriage; she must therefore be still in the town, or have left it on foot. The greater part of the day was consumed in unsuccessful inquiries, and faint hopes that she would return; meanwhile, the news of her disappearance had spread: how could such news fail to do so?

66

When ?"

"The letter arrived the day before yesterday. I happened to be calling at the house where he last lodged, when at L-, the house opposite Mrs. Ashleigh's garden. No doubt the servants in both houses gossip with each other. Miss Ashleigh could scarcely fail to hear of Mr. Margrave's address from her maid; and since servants will exchange gossip, they may also convey letters. Pardon me, you know I am your friend."

"Not from the moment you breathe a word against my betrothed wife," said I, fiercely.

I wrenched myself from the clasp of the man's hand, but his words still rang in my ears. I mounted my horse; I rode into the adjoining suburbs, the neighbouring villages; there, however, I learned nothing