Mr. Talton silently paced the room, some minutes after her departure; he had gained the triumph over his feelings in this interview, but, he felt, too dearly, and would cheerfully have resigned half of his fortune, had Lady Corbet proved herself as amiable as he formerly thought her. He was soon joined by all the party, except Louise, who was too ill to leave her apartment; and Sir Henry being anxious to know the particulars of the interview, requested him to recount what had passed. Mr. Talton instantly complied.

"Forbid it, Heaven," Sir Henry ejaculated, as he concluded, "that she should meditate suicide! Never more should I experience a moment's happiness! Sooner would I embrace the most abject poverty, than enjoy a state of affluence by driving a mother to self-destruction!"

"I do not apprehend her Ladyship will commit any act of desperation on herself," said Mr. Talton: "but rather, as I intended by alarming her, endeavour to escape from justice, by resigning your possessions."

He was right in his conjecture: Lady Corbet, justly alarmed at the discovery of her guilt, and dreading the power of that justice she pretended to despise, immediately on her return to the Hall, summoned Mallet, and, informing him of what had happened, ordered him to repair to London, and withdraw her property, amounting to nearly fourscore thousand pounds, exclusive of Louise's fortune, from the funds, and follow her to France.

Mallet by no means approved of her precipitation:—"I wish your safety, Lady Corbet," he answered, after a pause; "yet reflect before you determine on flight. Did Talton produce the will?—No! Then may not this accusation be a plan to entice you to confess what, I grant, they may suspect, but cannot prove! Where—or how should Talton have obtained the will? Sir Henry possessed it not when he quitted the Hall, or this claim would have been made sooner. But even supposing this account of their having it to be true, (which I can scarcely credit), may there not be means to get it from their possession?—Reflect a little, Caroline, and if you can keep—there is no occasion to throw away so much property."

Lady Corbet hesitated—"If I can keep—Charles: but impossible! Talton too surely has the will: he is not a man either to trifle or be trifled with. Yet how—where—or when he could obtain it—"

"Is at present," interrupted Mallet, "of very little consequence. Had the measures I advised been pursued, this would never have occurred: but as it is—all I can say is, if he really have it, means must be found to get it from him."

"Impossible—impossible, Charles!"

"Why so, Lady Corbet? Consent to give me your hand if I succeed, and trust to my management for the obtaining of it—if in his possession."

"I do consent!—I will consent to any thing," answered the agitated Lady Corbet, "on the condition you have named!"

"But one question, then," said her crafty lover: "Where does Talton keep his papers of consequence?"

"In a cabinet, which stands in his chamber. But wherefore do you ask?—What means do you propose to pursue?"

"Forcible ones," replied Mallet, "if I find them requisite."

"Let them be prudent, cautious, and expeditious," said Lady Corbet, emphatically: "and if danger await me, be quick as fear itself to give me intelligence!"

They separated; and Mallet, his head teeming with various projects, proceeded toward Mr. Talton's. On approaching the house, he perceived the servants were assembled in their own apartment; he, therefore, confidently entered by one of the lower windows, and, being well acquainted with every room, hastened to that Lady Corbet had mentioned. His heart beat with malicious pleasure on beholding the cabinet; and, securing the door, to prevent discovery, he lightly advanced, and with trembling impatience attempted to open the drawers. All, however, were secured; he then tried various keys, but without effect; and being certain no time was to be lost, resolutely applied a chissel he had brought, and forced the lock of the principal drawer. He looked not far for the will; the hand-writing of the deceased Sir Henry soon met his view, and, hastily securing his prize, he, with an exulting heart, was retreating from the chamber, when Sir Henry, who with Harland, had left the drawing-room to visit Louise, returned from her apartment. The figure of Mallet caught his eye, and the appearance of the cabinet forced open as instantly disclosed the reason of his being there. Sir Henry sprung to oppose his escape, and seizing him by the collar, demanded the restitution of the writings he had so feloniously obtained. Rendered desperate by this unexpected discovery, Mallet, after vainly struggling for liberation, drew the chissel from his pocket, and aimed a stroke at the bosom of Sir Henry.

It was too well directed to have failed in its effect, and Sir Henry must inevitably have fallen a victim, had not Harland, surprised by his exclamation, hastened from his wife's apartment, and, perceiving his danger, torn the destructive weapon from the hand of the assassin!

Mallet was still endeavouring to force his way from Sir Henry, when Mr. Talton and the Captain, surprised at the scuffle, hastened to the spot, followed by Frederick, Edward, and several of the servants, who had likewise been alarmed. The cause was soon explained, and Mallet effectually secured; he was then searched, and the will, with the packet written by the deceased Sir Henry, produced.

"Lady Corbet, I find," said Mr. Talton, "is resolved to tear her image from my heart! By heavens! this last action exceeds all I could ever have supposed a woman, and a mother, could have been guilty of!—For you, Mallet, your life shall answer for this outrage!"

This last sentence, pronounced with uncommon energy, reached the ear of Louise, who rushed into the passage.—"He is—he is my father," she cried in a voice of anguish. "Oh, for my sake, have mercy!" She threw herself at the feet of Mr. Talton, who, with Sir Henry and Harland, endeavoured to raise her from the floor, as the former said—"He has attempted the life of your brother, Mrs. Harland. But retire to your chamber, this scene is not fit for you."

Harland would have borne her away; but, with the wildest screams, she broke from him, and threw her arms round the neck of Mallet, who appeared as much confounded at her claim, as at the discovery of his preceding action.

"I am your Louise," sobbed his agitated daughter; "her whom you left at the gates of St. Ursule.—Will you not speak to me, and say you are my father?"

"The name of father," answered Mallet sullenly, "affords no pleasure to me, but has given a stab to my heart, I never thought to have experienced. Neither, I think, can it be gratifying to your ears, if you recollect the treatment you have received at my hands. If you wish, however, to show yourself my daughter, remind Sir Henry it is not in my power or your mother's now to injure him. I am at his mercy; but I do not expect to find it."

Louise turned a tearful eye to Sir Henry.—"My brother!" plaintively escaped her lips, and falling on his bosom, she wept in silence.

"Compose yourself, my dear girl:" said Sir Henry: "the tears of Louise can never plead in vain!—Go, Sir," he continued, addressing Mallet, as he unfastened the cord which confined him.—"For Louise's sake, you are free: and that this evening's transactions may teach you a useful lesson, take with you the forgiveness of the man you would have deprived—even of life!"

"I will not oppose your generous sentence, Sir Henry," said Mr. Talton; "but if you, Mallet, be found in this part of the country to-morrow—the next morning, notwithstanding Sir Henry's clemency, you shall certainly be the inmate of a prison."

Louise wrung her hands, and again burst into tears; whilst Mallet's brow assumed a deeper gloom: but, as he passed her, he said—"This is, most probably, then, Louise, our last interview. As the merit of my release rests with you, may a better blessing than mine be your reward!" He descended the stairs, followed by Mr. Talton and the servants; whilst Louise, satisfied by his liberation and benediction, yielded to Harland's entreaties, that she would retire to her own apartment.

In the mean time, Mallet retraced his steps to Corbet Hall; one moment furious from the loss of the prize he had obtained; the next, overwhelmed with shame at his detection. Unwillingly he approached Lady Corbet, who awaited his return with the utmost anxiety and impatience; eagerly her eyes glanced to catch intelligence from his; they sparkled not with exultation—"What hopes—what success—what fortune—await me?" she hastily interrogated. "Your only hopes—are in flight!" answered Mallet, churlishly. "Sir Henry has, indeed, the will to produce, with the packet Talton mentioned." He then recounted what had passed: but, when Lady Corbet learned, the will had actually been in his possession, and that he had neglected to destroy, the moment he obtained it, her rage exceeded the power of restraint.

Mallet listened impatiently to her reproaches; and at last said—"The best concerted schemes, Caroline, may sometimes be rendered abortive; nor can I in the least reproach myself for the failure of this. But, it is useless wasting time in words, which ought to be employed in making preparations for a safe retreat; and, as our affairs are situated, the sooner we depart the better."

"But for your foolish prevention, Sir," said Lady Corbet, "I should, ere this time, have been beyond the reach of Talton: but you, forsooth, must raise hopes—only, by a futile project, to dash them more forcibly to the ground, and make me more sensibly feel the loss of wealth and honour, by reflecting, you had it in your power—but neglected—to secure them to me!"

She left him with increasing anger, yet with every fear awake to apprehended danger. She, therefore, packed up jewels and money to a considerable amount; and, a little after midnight, set out for Pembroke; leaving Sir Henry to establish his rights as he thought proper.

In the mean time, Sir Henry experienced a state of anxiety and wretchedness, little inferior to Lady Corbet's. He had given the power of acting as they wished, into the hands of Mr. Talton and the Captain: his mother, they had promised, should not be exposed: but, he feared, this last disappointment of her plans, and discovery of her principles, might, indeed, instigate her to some act of desperation.

His apprehensions were relieved the next morning, when the following laconic letter was delivered to Mr. Talton:—

"Tell my unnatural son, he never shall triumph over the fall of his mother!—By the time this reaches your hands, I shall have bidden an eternal adieu to England; to seek a retreat where I may securely laugh at, and despise both him and the power of justice.

"As Louise's offence of appearing in my presence, I believe, was unintentional, tell her, I forgive her—and, some years hence, may, perhaps, be induced to remember I am her mother.

"Caroline Corbet."

The satisfaction of Sir Henry's friends at this event, so much more favourable than they had expected, could be equalled only by his own, at the disappointment of his fears, respecting his mother. Cheerfully he returned their gratulations; till Mr. Talton reminded him, it was requisite he should go to the Hall, and examine into the state of his affairs. A carriage was accordingly ordered, and Sir Henry, accompanied by Mr. Talton and the Captain, took possession of his paternal habitation. On inquiring after the retreat of Lady Corbet, the housekeeper informed them, she had left the Hall, unattended, and in a hired carriage; and that Mallet was likewise gone—they knew not whither.

The tenantry were then assembled; who with satisfaction admitted the justice of his claim, and openly rejoiced at their young landlord's succession to the fortunes of his father. On examining the accounts of Mallet, Sir Henry was induced to coincide with Mr. Talton's opinion, that his mother had not left England unprovided for; and knowing that his father, at his decease, had money to a considerable amount, in the Caermarthen and Pembroke banks, immediately agreed to his guardians proposal, of going to those places, that he might be certified what property he had still remaining. Accordingly, writing to his friends at Mr. Talton's, to acquaint them with their proceedings, they set out for Pembroke.

Whilst Sir Henry and his guardians were thus employed, Edward, authorised by the previous approbation of his father, commenced his inquiry after the fair Unknown. Nor was the heart of Frederick more at ease than Edward's: from the time he beheld Ellen at the grave of her aunt, he had cherished a secret attachment. Restrained, however, by the consideration of his dependent state, he would have refrained from an avowal of his love; but, unused to disguise, the secret of his heart escaped him: nor could the artless Ellen conceal the delight which sparkled in her intelligent eyes at the declaration; yet a moment after saw them suffused in tears.

"Prudence, Frederick," she timidly answered, "must forbid your encouraging any sentiments of regard for me. I am an orphan, and, though not friendless, poor in the extreme!"

"I am equally poor, Ellen," said Frederick; "for I have no certainty but my commission, and might term myself an orphan, like you, for any consideration I expect from my parents. Yet, in a few years, promotion may place me in independence. I have a real and generous friend in my uncle, though I have no right to expect—nor do I—that he should deprive Edward of any part of his property on my account. I am a sailor, and must fight for fortune; and cheerfully could I face every danger my profession exposes me to, if assured the hand of Ellen would at last be my reward."

"My uncle, Frederick," she replied, "must here direct my conduct,—if he approve, Ellen will not oppose your wishes. I want not grandeur in my establishment for life; but will never marry, to involve the man I esteem in difficulties, which may destroy—instead of securing—his happiness."

"Such were my hopes, and such the answer of my Hannah!" said Lieutenant Booyers, entering from an inner apartment, "May your fate, my children, prove more fortunate than hers and mine! Frederick, I esteem and respect you; nor know I the man, on whom I would sooner bestow my Ellen—the only treasure I now can boast. You certainly are entitled to a provision from your father, equally with his other children: if he will settle five thousand pounds on my girl, I will, with pleasure, consent to your union; and afterwards, my young friend—fight for fortune!"

Scarcely could Frederick find words to thank the worthy Booyers for his generous consent, which raised a hope, that his father, who possessed nearly eight thousand a year, might be prevailed on to part with the sum proposed.

He wrote to Sir Arthur immediately: of his uncle's concurrence, he entertained not a doubt; and impatiently waited the answer which would, as he imagined, confirm or destroy the happiness of his life.

At last it arrived—and in an instant doomed him to despair! Sir Arthur, after expressing his surprise at the application, reminded him of the Captain's agreement to establish him in life. To him, therefore, he desired Frederick to make his claim; and concluded with expressly forbidding any farther demands.

"Here then end all my flattering prospects of felicity!" sighed Frederick.—"Unkind father! Unjustly you condemn me to wretchedness, to enrich a son, whose regard, I am convinced, does not exceed, nor perhaps equal—mine. To my uncle I can never apply—he has done too much already."

He pensively paced the room, when the appearance of the Captain roused him from his disagreeable reflections. The concern he felt was too deeply impressed on his countenance, to escape the observation of his uncle, who, perceiving the letter of his brother lying on the table, immediately read it.

"This accounts for your unusual dejection, Frederick," he said. "But for what purpose do you want five thousand pounds?"

The question brought on an explanation. Frederick ingenuously confessed the state of his heart, and briefly recounted his interview with Ellen and the Lieutenant. The Captain expressed his approbation of his choice, and the conduct of Booyers; adding, with a smile, "Your father's refusal, Frederick, shall never be a hindrance to your happiness. But where is my Ellenor? I am come to escort her to the Hall, where Sir Henry impatiently expects her; Mr. Talton having agreed to remain there till his affairs are finally adjusted."

Mrs. Howard and her friends were soon informed of the Captain's return, and the proposed removal; and, leaving directions for the servants to follow them, they proceeded to the Hall.

Sir Henry received them with open arms, and warmly congratulated his aunt on beholding her once more beneath her paternal roof. He then conducted them to the drawing-room, where they were soon after joined by Mr. Talton and the Captain, who had left them on their arrival. The latter advanced to his nephew, and, presenting him with a writing, said, "This deed, Frederick, I had executed whilst at Pembroke; and rejoice it is thus in my power to render you happy, by securing you the means of uniting yourself to an amiable woman. Not that I would have you regard this as my final intention in your favour. The affection and attention I have so many years received from you, I can never recompense: but at my death, or before, if it be requisite, you shall find me mindful of the obligation."

Frederick opened the deed, which secured to him the sum of twenty thousand pounds. "My dear—my generous uncle!" he exclaimed, clasping his hand with grateful affection, "never can I sufficiently acknowledge the many instances I have experienced of your regard. Poor indeed must be my attempts to thank you; but every act is treasured in the inmost recesses of my heart!"

The Captain embraced him.—"Enough, my dear Frederick: if you be happy, I am fully gratified."

The worthy Booyers, warmly participated in the joy of the moment; and readily agreed to the Captain's proposal, that the nuptials should take place at an early period.

Sir Henry, at the same time, took the opportunity of presenting Louise and his aunt with the fortunes his father had mentioned. The Captain would have checked his generosity; but he declared that the wish of his father should be fulfilled the same as though specified in a legal will. Then gaily turning to Eliza, he continued, "I must now become a supplicant! Will you, my beloved girl, consent to bless me with your hand on the day your friend, Ellen, becomes the bride of Howard?"

"I despise affectation, Henry," answered Eliza: "yet not from me, but my mother, you must receive your answer. If she grant your suit, I will cheerfully attend you to the altar."

"Dearest, best of girls!" exclaimed Sir Henry.—"To you then, my mother, I must now refer."

"And from that saucy smile on your brow, Harry," said Mrs. Blond, laughing, "I should suppose, you think yourself ensured of success, before you ask. I will not, however, disappoint you: the happiness of Corbet is too dear to my heart."

"Would you, my dear Madam," said Talton, "as readily consent to a proposal from me, I should rejoice in depriving Sir Henry of his mother: or rather—as I ever wished—to become his father. As Corbet Hall will so soon own the lovely Eliza for its mistress, I should deem myself inexpressibly happy, would her mother consent to grace the mansion of Talton. I have long regarded Sir Henry as my son; I love your daughter as my own: and by uniting our families, I flatter myself it would increase the felicity of all."

"A fair proposal!" said the Captain. "Never demur, my dear Mrs. Blond; but accede to it as cheerfully as you did to Sir Henry's."

"This proposal," replied Mrs. Blond, in some confusion, "requires consideration; but my answer shall be sincere."

Mr. Talton urged no farther; and preparations were commenced for the marriages of Sir Henry and Frederick; when, one morning, a servant hastily entered, and announced the arrival of a messenger from Cornwall.

"From Cornwall!" exclaimed Sir Henry. "Good God! what can this mean? Some fatal accident, I am afraid, has befallen my mother! Show the messenger up, this instant."

The servant obeyed, and an elderly countryman entered the room. He advanced with an humble bow to Sir Henry, and, in simple language, informed him, he rented the principal part of the Cornwall estate, belonging to Lady Corbet; who was then at the old Mansion-house, confined by a fractured arm; and as the surgeon who attended her, apprehended she was in danger, he thought it requisite to acquaint Sir Henry; more especially as Lady Corbet, who, he acknowledged, was sometimes delirious, had once expressed a wish to see him and a gentleman of the name of Talton.

"I will immediately go to Cornwall," said Sir Henry. "The attentions of a son may soothe the anguish which oppresses her. And you, Mr. Talton—will you accompany me?—My mother may be worse than she is represented."

"I will readily accompany you, Sir Henry," said Mr. Talton. "If I have ceased to regard Lady Corbet with affection, I do not forget the sentiments I once entertained."

Orders were accordingly given to prepare for their departure, when Sir Henry anxiously inquired the particulars of the accident which had befallen his mother.

Lady Corbet, who, on quitting the Hall, had designed proceeding to France, altered her resolution before she reached Pembroke; and, crossing the Channel, went to her estate in Cornwall, where she was soon after joined by Mallet, and where she proposed to remain, deeming herself secure from the knowledge of Mr. Talton, till she should learn his farther proceedings; and whence, if she found it necessary, she could instantly fly the kingdom.

Mallet had been with her about a week, the tenant informed Sir Henry, when a disagreement had arisen, which occasioned his abrupt departure. That Lady Corbet had appeared very much agitated, and at last commanded a chaise to be prepared, to convey her to Plymouth; for which place she set out, but had not proceeded more than half a mile, when, by the carelessness of the driver, the chaise was overturned, and her arm severely injured. Lady Corbet was brought, by some country-people, back to the mansion-house, and a surgeon sent for, who on examining the limb, declared there was a necessity to amputate it; but Lady Corbet peremptorily refused to submit to the operation, and desired him to set the bone, which had been broken in three separate places. He obeyed; but a fever immediately followed; and, as he had every apprehension of a mortification ensuing, he had desired the farmer to hasten and acquaint Sir Henry.

Sir Henry's countenance assumed a more pallid hue at this relation; impatiently he inquired if the horses were ready: and on Mrs. Howard anxiously urging him to take some refreshment before he commenced his journey, he wrung her hand, saying, "I feel your affectionate care, my dear aunt; but at this moment my heart is too much oppressed to let me think of refreshments. Even now—may not my mother be expiring: ere she forgives—or knows how dear she still is to the heart of—her Henry."

Louise regarded Sir Henry some moments, with an expressive countenance—"Let me too, my brother, accompany you. My humble affection will not be rejected, and the approving blessing of a mother may yet reward the years of anxious solicitude, I have experienced."

"You could not, my dear girl," answered Sir Henry, "support the fatigue of travelling, at the rate I wish to go. Yet follow us—Harland will escort you." Harland readily consented, and a chaise was prepared, in which they departed, in less than an hour after Sir Henry.

In the mean time, Sir Henry and Mr. Talton travelled with the utmost expedition to Llaugharne, and, crossing the Channel, proceeded towards the ancient seat of Lady Corbet. They were received by Mrs. Brown, the tenant's wife, who informed them the surgeon's fears were verified; a mortification had commenced, and Lady Corbet, at last sensible of her danger, had, that morning, desired Sir Henry and Louise might be sent for. Though prepared for this intelligence, Sir Henry was still affected on receiving it; he, however, struggled with his feelings, and requested she would inform his mother of his arrival, and his wish to see her, if her spirits were equal to the interview. She soon returned, and conducted him to her apartment. The surgeon and a female attendant were stationed by the bed, on which, supported by pillows, was extended the still beautiful Lady Corbet. The fever's hectic glow had succeeded the light bloom of health on her cheek; and the wild lustre of her eye plainly showed reason retained not its full powers. Sir Henry sprung to embrace her, and in a voice softened by tenderness and grief, breathed a prayer for the continuance of her existence.

"I little thought, Harry," she said, after an internal struggle, "ever to have beholden you again: but retributive justice has overtaken me, and I must submit to my fate!—But where is Louise?" she impatiently continued. "Does she despise the sufferings of a mother; or didst thou enviously wish to deprive her of a blessing?"

"Ah, my mother," answered Sir Henry, "stab not my heart by such a supposition;—in a few hours Louise will be here."

"And in a few hours," repeated Lady Corbet, with energy, "I may be numbered with the dead!"

"I do not apprehend your dissolution so soon as that," said the surgeon; "although I thought it my duty to tell you there are no longer any hopes of your recovery. Yet I would wish you not to increase your fever by too much exertion in speaking."

"Peace, dotard!" exclaimed Lady Corbet, angrily. "Without thou couldest bid me live!—But no—no—I must die: there are indeed no hopes for me!—Let me see Talton—they told me he was here." Her attendant hastened to desire his presence, and the surgeon renewing his request that she might be kept quiet, and as composed as possible, retired; promising to return in the evening. Mr. Talton obeyed the summons. On his approach, Lady Corbet said: "Thou art come then to behold her, who would have injured thee to the utmost—had it been in her power! Rejoice then in my fall—exult over my ashes—and, in the torments I now endure, be fully revenged!"

"Far be revenge from my heart," replied Talton: "to pity and relieve are its dictates; but never to triumph over the fallen or afflicted!"

"Well—well!" said Lady Corbet, with quickness, "I believe thee! Though were revenge thy wish, thou hast it—in its utmost extent! Mallet,—the ungrateful Mallet, has deserted me!—Struck with Louise, and her behaviour on the evening of his detection, he wished the restoration of her fortune; but instead of requesting, he commanded it! Had he entreated—pleaded her claim to maternal attention and justice, I think I should have complied! But, unused to commands, I peremptorily refused him: and, in return, he threatened, by the law's aid, to force me to a restitution of my aunt's fortune! Rendered furious by this insolence, I forbade him my sight; and, without seeking to mitigate my anger, he departed for France. Unable to endure his absence, when my passion abated, I determined on following him; but fate forbade it, and, by means of a menial wretch, has torn the fascinating joys of life from my grasp, and hurled destruction on my head!" She burst into tears. "All will soon be over, Harry!—I rejoiced when Corbet died: he loved you—and was beloved: but no one will sorrow or weep for me!"

"Yes—yes, my mother!" said Sir Henry, "I will sorrow and weep for thee too!"

"Lay me not, I charge you, Harry," she wildly continued, "by Corbet—my ashes must not mingle with his. No, no—in the vault by my father—there I shall rest in peace!" She sunk exhausted on her pillow. Sir Henry anxiously watched the changes of her countenance, whilst Mr. Talton, with pity, contemplated the wretched situation of a woman, he once thought the most perfect of her sex.

A broken slumber shed a partial oblivion over her senses, and for some hours relieved her from the tortures of remembrance. She awoke more collected, and impatiently inquired if Louise were arrived? The rattling of a carriage round the spacious court, announced her approach, and in a few minutes the agitated Louise was pressed to the bosom of her mother!

"Welcome, Louise!" murmured Lady Corbet.—"Child of affection, though thou hast never been regarded as such—yet I love thee now, Louise.—And art thou the husband of my child?" she continued to Harland.—"Then I will say thou too art welcome. Poor thou marriedst my Louise; I therefore believe thou dost love her; and let not the remembrance of her mother ever induce thee to slight or contemn her. Mine was the vice—be mine the shame: if aught can ever be reflected from Louise! But no—no; the virtues of my Louise, like the beams of the morning, shall rise superior to the darkness of her parents actions!—Dark, indeed!" she repeated, with a convulsive sigh.—"For we deserted thy infant innocence! Yet forgive me, Louise—curse not my memory; I will make thee rich amends for the injuries I have done thee!"

"Name not injuries, my mother;" sobbed Louise; "all is rewarded by this moment of affection! My love, my duty shall prove me worthy of it."

"I shall not experience them," said Lady Corbet, wildly. "The icy finger of death has marked the hour of my existence!"

"Not so—my mother," replied Louise, attempting to speak with cheerfulness. "My hand shall minister to thy wants; my arm support thee; affection will teach me the means of relieving thy anguish; and in the bosom of her Louise, my mother shall yet find peace and happiness!"

"Peace and happiness!" repeated Lady Corbet, franticly. "Oh, torture me not, by placing to my view blessings I must never enjoy! In thy bosom, peace and happiness may dwell, but not for me! Even now the grave is open to receive me, and all beyond is horror! Thee, I have injured—Corbet and his son—Ellenor too,—Blond and Eliza—shall point the finger of condemnation at me, and say—'Not one good action marked her life!'—Oh, let me live—Off with this fractured limb—Tear me to atoms: let me but live to atone for my crimes!—The account is too dark to answer before the Judge I have offended!"

Louise shrunk aghast from her frantic mother, who, with convulsive eagerness, attempted to tear the bandages from her arm.

Sir Henry endeavoured to restrain her.—"This must not be, my mother, you hasten the dissolution you so much dread."

"Hence, audacious boy!" she angrily exclaimed. "Darest thou lay the hand of violence on thy parent! Now, indeed, thou meritest the hatred I have shown thee! Yet stay—stay: let me not add another sin to the number of my account! I believe thou lovest me, thou hast oft evinced it. Yet, not to thee can I fly for consolation; the injuries I have done thee, are too numerous, and alone sufficient to overwhelm me with perdition!"

Mr. Talton drew her fevered hand from Sir Henry's, and gently pressing it, said, "Raise your heart in prayer, Lady Corbet, and seek for consolation in the mercy of Heaven!"

"Can I form a prayer—or ask a blessing," said Lady Corbet, "when every action of my life is marked with vice? No, no—there is no mercy for me—I never afforded it!"

"Lay your crimes at the feet of your Saviour," replied Mr. Talton, solemnly: "remember, he died for the sinner: and the first tear shed, of true repentance, restores you to the bosom of your God!"

The frenzied eye of Lady Corbet rested with piercing keenness on that of Talton. "Repentance!" she ejaculated. "Oh, if that will avail me, deeply indeed will I repent. Yet save me—save me: let me not die! I will be patient—calm. But send for the surgeon; I no longer dread a mutilated frame: and it may not yet be too late to preserve existence!"

Sir Henry hastily rose—"I will seek the surgeon this instant——"

"Not you, Harry!" cried Lady Corbet, extending her hand to detain him. "Quit not my sight.—Little as I have loved you through life, I wish not at this moment to be deserted. Yet, send for the surgeon—and be quick; let me but live, and I will atone for all!"

Harland perceiving Sir Henry's distress sent a servant, who soon returned with the surgeon. On being informed of Lady Corbet's determination, he shook his head, saying—"It is now, I am afraid, too late. Had she submitted to the operation at first—all had been well."

Anxiously Sir Henry watched the intelligence of his eye, as he examined her arm, and with a sigh received the account. It was, indeed, not only too late to amputate the limb; but her state was such, that the succeeding day would be the utmost limit of her existence!

A groan burst from the bosom of the wretched patient, who, in agonized frenzy, alternately entreated the surgeon to save her, and implored the mercy of Heaven. Medicine was administered to compose her, which, in some degree, had the effect; and the remainder of the day and following night passed in broken slumber and prayer.

The ensuing morning, on awaking, she perceived Sir Henry and Louise kneeling by her bed; and, regarding them some moments, with a tremulous voice said—"And dost thou, Harry, kneel to Heaven, to intercede for thy guilty parent?—Oh God! accept his prayers, though mine be rejected! and for each ill I have—and would have done him, shower a blessing on his head! But I must be quick. Reason totters, and life beats uncertain at my heart. Talton—Harland—come hither. Pursue not Mallet. The wealth he has taken—let him retain! Let Louise's fortune be restored, and the rest of my property equally divided between her and her brother—except my picture; which, Talton, I would wish you to have; and, when you view the resemblance, let pity draw a veil over my vices, and waft a prayer to Heaven—they may there be forgiven!—Pray for me, my gentle Louise!—Harry, forgive thy mother. Leave me not whilst a symptom of life remains; bear with my wanderings, and whilst I have sense to give it—receive a last blessing!"

—Life, however, was not so near its close, though it fluctuated in its channels. Repeated faintings prepared them for the last awful moment. Sir Henry and Louise, as Lady Corbet had requested, never left her; and evening was fast closing as she faintly grasped the hand of Sir Henry—drew him nearer to her, and, sighing a broken prayer—expired on the bosom of Louise!—