behind a tree-he watched their motions-the coffin was lowered in the grave—a laugh, coarse and vulgar, followedsix of them left-the seventh stood alone with the sexton. The silence was broken by one of those who had gone, shouting out "Lawson, are you coming?" "Ha!" exclaimed George, "I have corpse-great God, can it be my sister?

him now, and the

Support me, Heaven-for I have that to do which requires strength."

Lawson stood gazing into the grave-long and fearful was that gaze; nor did he attempt to withdraw it, until the old man pushed him aside to commence his work. "True -true-she is dead now-but her curse is on my soul-a deep and mighty curse. It withers up my heart, parches my tongue, and maddens the brain. Lucy Somers, thy curse is at work."

“Aye, villain, and her avenger is here. Start not, thou accursed of God and man," exclaimed George, as he stepped forth from behind the tree. "Start not-I have sought you long-now you are in my power. Sexton-old man I say, up with your spade, dig another grave beside this-two feet, there, beyond."

66

'Where, sir," muttered out the old man. "My eye sight is bad, but show old Philip the spot, and I'll be bound he'll dig it; ha ha! I am old now, tho'." Lawson, who stood petrified with alarm, stammered out--" What mean you, young man?"

"That you leave not this spot alive-unless you have the power to convince me that from your arts my sister has not been brought to this fate."

"That, sir, I can do, and will-her curse is on me. I have been most guilty, but not of her death-step aside, young man, and I will tell you that which will make you

wonder why heaven is silent, when such deeds are committed on earth."

Long and earnest was the conversation between the two: the conclusion was, that they left the field together. George whispered a few words to the old sexton before he departed, and placed in his hands some money. “Mark me, old man, it is to be removed in the morning. I have no time for sorrow now-her cold cheek will I kiss then, and lay her beside her mother. Poor innocent; better, however, be dead, than live dishonored."

CHAPTER VI.

THE STRUGGLE-THE DENOUMENT.

The house that den of infamy into which poor Lucy had been so unscrupulously dragged and murdered-was, on the occasion to which we call the attention of the reader, brilliantly illuminated-youth and beauty, the volatile, the gay and unthinking, were there assembled-bright eyes flashed amid the glare of light, like diamonds in the moonbeams; and while the merry strains of music arose on the calmness of the night, the tread of many feet, the joyous laugh, told the gazers and listeners whom curiosity had attracted on the outside, that the officers of his Majesty's army were regaling and amusing the wives and daughters of the rebels with a ball got up in the true English style. Yes, and have we not imitated them in everything, from that period to this? Our vices are fashioned after theirs. So it is.

We now conduct our readers to the fatal chamber already

spoken of, as being the one where the interview took place between Colonel Norris and Lucy. Since then, but little change was visible in it. Its dark and gloomy casements, the immense height of the ceiling, strangely contrasted with the degree of elegance that marked the furniture. In the centre of the room was a beautiful ottoman, but the close observer might have noted that its rich covering and border lace work appeared as if they had suffered from some rough hands, as they were torn in many places, and in others defaced.

In this room, on the same night, stood two men-Lawson and George Somers. The eyes of the latter were fixed upon the ottoman; its appearance had not escaped his gaze, and he muttered to himself—"that was the death-couch of virtue and of my sister!" Lawson, who divined his thoughts, uttered in a fearful whisper-"In this room she died!"

"And the tale you have told me is true; on your soul's salvation!"

"As true as I stand here; and O! young man, it is not the only one: I could harrow up your soul by a recital of the doings here. Many young girls enter this house, who are never seen to leave it-and others-"

"No more now to your task. As you hope for pardon and a brother's prayer, to remove a sister's curse, act in this matter as you have promised, nay, pledged your soul's salvation."

"I will; for that curse, the curse of one so lovely, so virtuous, weighs upon my soul, making life a burden. Will you, young man, pray for me—pray for me in the dark and gloomy hours of night; for then it is I see her-see her pale-O! God! O! God! O! God! how she fixes her eyes upon me then. Will you do this?"

“I will, I will—if heaven preserves me through this trying hour. Now, go!"

The young man stood alone-all was quiet-he was in the room where his youthful sister was basely betrayed. In a few minutes he would stand in the presence of her murderer. Hark! that shout, music, the dance-again the building shook with the tread of merry feet; but then came a footstep, a heavy one-it sounds upon the stairs, the latch is raised, and Colonel Norris enters the room. As he did so, George walked deliberately to the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.

"What mean you by that act, sir? this is my apartment!" “And mine; we are both claimants for its possession; the stake is life."

"Are you mad?"

"No! calm and collected. You are Colonel Norris-I am George Somers."

"Ha! what ho! there!"

"Move but one step, and you die the death of a coward. Listen to me. Where is my sister? Nay, you need not lie; she is dead-cold and quiet in the grave, aye, in the grave dug by your orders in Potter's Field; the place for criminals, the depraved and dissolute. You, sir, buried my poor virtuous sister in that spot, whose life was sacrificed to your brutal passion. Now, villain, what should be your punishment?"

"It is not for a British officer to bandy words with a rebel. I know nothing of your sister; it is true a young girl was here, who scorned my love, and foolishly committed suicide."

"Scorned your love-ha! ha! thy love! the wolf's love for the lamb-but, sir, we are losing time; stand forth, Colonel Norris, and hear me. In your own house I brand

you a villain and a murderer; here in this room we meet, man to man; and by heaven, I swear I leave it not, unless a corpse, without taking full revenge for the outrages committed upon Lucy Somers.'

"What ho! Lawson!"

"Ha! ha! do you hear the answer?"

A loud shout, accompanied with a crash of music, came up from the lower rooms; a pause, and then came another sound; it was the watchman crying past one o'clock.

"Would you murder me?"

"No; take that pistol-now!"

Before George could place himself in a posture, the ruffian discharged the weapon full in the face of his generous foe, but fortunately the ball only grazed the cheek, leaving a mark, and causing a flow of blood.

"Base coward, your life is in my hands; but if you have another pistol, procure it."

His

Colonel Norris cast his eyes around the room. great personal strength was such, that if he could but seize the youth, his chance was sure: it was his only hope; he then rushed upon him; but George discharged the pistol as he advanced, and wounded him in the shoulder. They were now struggling hand to hand, but the Colonel found he had met his match in the boy, whose hand now pressed strongly against his throat. The struggle was a fearful one. George was struck to the earth by a powerful blow, and for a moment stunned; his exulting foe sprang upon him as he lay, and seizing him furiously by the throat, exerted his great strength to strangle him. But the presence of mind and the activity of George saved his life in that dreadful moment; for raising his feet with almost superhuman power, he struck them against the breast of his antagonist, who stag