Here was a dreadful disappointment! He must then try the other way, and he opened the door that communicated with the shop; but in so doing his candle blew out, while at the same instant he felt himself clutched by a powerful hand, and a voice cried: 'Villain! I've got you, have I?'

Exhausted by suffering, the shock was too great for his nerves, and instead of the resistance he expected, the porter that guarded the shop, and who mistook Vincent for a thief carrying away his boots in the bundle, felt the body of his prisoner slip from his grasp, and sink heavily on the earth. Whereupon he fetched a light, and perceiving who it was he had seized, he awakened Mr Halkelt, who assisted him to carry the still insensible Vincent to his bed. Emily was then roused, and being informed of her lover's condition, and the strange circumstances under which he was found, she expressed no surprise. On the contrary, she said: 'It was nothing more than she had been daily apprehending it having been evident to her that he had for some time been struggling with severe illness, which, from an unwillingness to lie up at such a crisis, he had laboured to conceal.'

VI.

Nine days had elapsed since that eventful night when Vincent Halloway opened his eyes after what appeared to him a long, long sleep, in which he had been harassed by the most frightful dreams. He was in the chamber in which he usually slept when at Mr Halkelt's, and everything was so quiet that he might have thought himself alone but for a low breathing on the other side of the bed-curtain, which shaded the glare of the window from his pillow. He would have drawn it aside to see who was there, but he found he had no power to raise his arm. The attempt, however, had not escaped the watchful ear of his nurse, and the curtain being lifted, Emily's sweet face looked in upon him. When her eyes met his, she gazed eagerly into them, and then bending down and touching his brow with her lips, she said: 'How do you feel, dearest ?'

'I don't know,' he said. 'I believe I'm very weak. Have I been ill ?' 'Very ill,' she answered; but you have had a good sleep, and now you are going to get well. Only you must be very obedient, and not talk.' The command was not difficult to obey, for a few words exhausted him, and he was content to be silent. Presently his mother came into the room on tiptoe. Emily whispered her the good news, and she also came to his bedside, kissed him, and blessed him. He was quite easy, and seemed to himself to be lying in a sort of Elysium. So he slept and woke, and sipped things out of a teaspoon which Emily held to his lips, and asked no questions.

Gradually, however, vague recollections of the circumstances that had preceded his illness recurred to his memory; but he could not at first distinguish the real events from the visions of his delirium. Certainly the dreadful scene at the canal seemed too vivid and distinct to be a dream; but if Bessy was dead, and her body found, how came he to be left peaceably under Mr Halkelt's roof? Perhaps because he was too ill to be removed; or had he escaped connection with the terrible event? But as

he gained strength, wonder and perplexity, not unaccompanied by alarm, took possession of him; and in spite of the calm and cheerful demeanour of those about him, he could not divest himself of the hourly apprehension that he should be arrested for the murder of Bessy. As time advanced, however, this fear began to be less urgent, but other anxieties succeeded it. Could he, knowing his dreadful position, dare to marry Emily? Could he allow so lovely, so pure, so noble a woman, to ally herself to one who might yet be doomed to the death of a felon? He felt it was impossible. But explanation must be deferred till after his visit to his father's, whither the doctor recommended he should remove for change of air; and Emily, who took the entire command, consented, provided she went with him, for she perceived plainly as his bodily health was restored that his mental disease was returning-that he had something on his mind was evident. What could this grievous secret be?

When the day arrived for his removal, a carriage was engaged to convey him. Under other circumstances how delightful such a drive would have been, with the glad feelings of returning health, and Emily by his side! But there was no gladness for him. He thought only of what he was soon to lose, and of the grim future that awaited him.

As they passed Mrs Mure's door, Nancy ran out to see the carriage. She looked as usual, and he observed that she was not in mourning. He saw some other familiar faces; all nodded and smiled: it was evident that even there, where his connection with Bessy was known, he was not suspected of her murder. Nevertheless, his determination to relinquish Emily remained unshaken.

At first, on his arrival at home, he could not walk farther than the garden; but as his strength returned, leaning on Emily's arm he extended his rambles; and when they had a fine spring morning, they often remained abroad for hours-precious hours!-the last he was ever to taste on earth!

and

One day when, after a long stroll, they were reposing side by side on a primrose-covered bank, he saw Nancy Mure coming towards him with a white jug in her hand. Emily remarked that she was a pretty girl; Vincent felt, as she drew near, that he must speak to her. expected it was evident, for she stopped.

'How do you do, Nancy?' he faltered out with a husky voice.
เ Very well, thankye, Mr Halloway. I hope you're better.'
'Rather better,' he answered with a sigh.

That she

'I s'pose you know that Bessy's been very bad, and like to die? I've been up to the farm to fetch a drop of milk for her. She can't take nothing but milk now.'

6

Vincent gasped for breath.

What has been the matter with her?' kindly inquired Emily.

'She tumbled into the canal at Taunton six weeks agone come Monday, and she caught a cold, and the doctor says it's settled upon her chest.'

Emily answered that she would call and see her; and as soon as Nancy was gone, Vincent rose, trembling exceedingly, and said that not feeling very well he wished to go home and lie down. When he found himself alone, his first impulse was to pour out his heart's thanksgiving for Bessy's escape. For a long time he wept and prayed, and as soon as his mind was calmer he wrote to her to request she would see him. It was evident that she had

spared him. How could he be grateful enough for so much generosity? How make her amends for his brutality and ingratitude? In the evening Nancy brought a note to say that Bessy could not come out, but that she would be glad to see him if he would call.

He went the next morning, and found her sitting up in bed, pale and hollow-cheeked, the ghost of her former self. When he entered the room, she bade her mother and sister leave them. Vincent fell upon his knees, and covered his face with his hands, whilst the big tears streamed betwixt his fingers. His heart was rent in twain, and he sobbed like an infant in grief.

'Never mind,' she said. 'Don't take on so! I haven't told nobody, nor never will; and, besides, it was as much my fault as yours. Mother sent for Uncle Philpots when she heard you was agoing to marry Miss Halkelt, and he com'd just the next day; and when he found I'd been in the water, he said he knew you had done it; but I turned him off from it with laughing, and said I fell in when I fetched my bundle, 'cause it was so dark.'

He thanked her again and again; but how she had escaped he could not conceive. She said that the second time she rose she had caught hold of a rope that moored a barge to the shore, and had tried to reach the land, but that it slipped from her grasp; after which she remembered nothing till she found herself in bed at a little public-house, whither she had been carried. The men in the barge, on coming from below to go ashore, had discovered her with her long hair entangled in the hawser, which had kept her head above water. Her cousin, Mrs Wilson, surprised at her not returning, had come in search of her, and so learned where she was, and there also Uncle Philpots had found her. She said she had been ill ever since from the cold she caught, and that the doctor said she would need great care.

Vincent answered that she should have great care; for after what had happened, he should be an ungrateful scoundrel if he did not devote himself to watch over her health and safety.

I

But Bessy shook her head and said, that could not be.

'It must be!' Vincent answered. You must be my wife now, Bessy: am determined to do what is right, and fulfil my promise.'

'No, Mr Halloway,' answered Bessy, 'I will never be your wife. It wouldn't be good for you nor me, I know; and perhaps might sooner or later lead to worse than what's gone. It would never do; and I wouldn't say, if we had words, but I might sometime cast up to you about the canal, and about your running away instead of trying to save me. Uncle Philpots and I had words about it; but I told him it wasn't no use, for I wouldn't marry a man as wanted to marry another girl.'

And Bessy adhered to her wise resolution.

Vincent was now free to marry Emily; even the child he was not burdened with, Uncle and Aunt Philpots having chosen to adopt it. But was he more worthy to become the husband of a virtuous woman than he was when he believed Bessy was dead? Were the black thoughts of that fatal evening-of that fatal moment-more pardonable because the life he supposed to be sacrificed had been providentially preserved? The struggle of mind these feelings occasioned became dreadful.

Whilst

he believed Bessy dead there had been no struggle. His path was plain: his duty was clearly to relinquish Emily; his condition was rather that of utter despondency and calm despair. But now another element had been introduced a small scruple of hope that, setting his mind in a ferment, robbed him of his sleep, and of what little appetite he had recovered, and Emily had the pain of seeing that he was daily losing all the ground he had gained. In short, he became so ill that, for his own part, he thought death was about to relieve him from all his difficulties; and under this persuasion he resolved, before he quitted the world, to make a full confession to Emily. He felt that his own mind would be easier, and also that it was due to her to give her that last proof of his affection and confidence; but it should not be till his end was approaching, when pity would silence reproof, and the horror and aversion she felt she would in mercy forbear to exhibit.

In the meantime Emily had her project too—which was to obtain his confidence; but he always baffled her till one day, when the doctor had quitted the room with a grave face, she re-entered it with the traces of tears on her cheeks.

'I see,' said Vincent, 'what he thinks; but don't grieve, Emily. Depend on it, it is better I should die.'

'Why is it better?' she said impatiently. 'Why will you persist in making me miserable, for you can't deceive me, Vincent? I know you have something on your mind, and you would rather die than trust me with it.'

'Not from want of confidence, Emily,' he answered; 'but there are things it's hard to confess. I wish to retain your love as long as I can.' 'True love is not easily extinguished,' she replied.

'But there are things that might extinguish it, Emily. Suppose I had done something very, very bad?'

'I should be extremely sorry, Vincent extremely sorry indeed; and I should insist on your doing everything you could to repair the wrong.' 'But wouldn't you cease to love me?'

'No,' she answered; for what you may have done, I know not; but I am witness to what you have suffered. It must be a dreadful fault indeed that such sufferings would not expiate.'

'I have suffered,' he said, 'God knows!' And the tears coursed each other down the wasted cheeks. But there are crimes that I fear no sufferings can expiate.'

Emily began to think he must be the victim of some delusion. What crime of so black a die, and yet so secret, could a youth, situated as Vincent was, have committed? But she was resolved, having brought him thus far, not to lose the ground she had gained.

'Upon my word, Vincent,' she said smiling, 'one would think you committed a murder to hear you talk!'

had

'And if I had?' he sobbed, covering his face with his hands. 'Oh God! Vincent,' she cried, clasping hers in anguish, 'don't say that! You cannot mean it!'

His reply was a relation of the whole circumstances of his acquaintance with Bessy, from the first awakening of his boyish infatuation to the frenzied ideas that had beset him at their meeting by the canal, and the catastrophe which seemed to his affrighted conscience to be their result,

He concluded by mentioning the offer of reparation he had now made her, together with the different phases of his own mental struggle; ‘And you will agree with me now,' he said, 'that it is better I should die!'

'No,' answered Emily weeping, it is better you should live and repent. Poor, poor Vincent! How little I guessed the weight that was dragging you into the grave!'

The ease of mind that followed this confession soon shewed its beneficial effects upon his health, the more especially as there was no relaxation of attention on the part of Emily. She continued to tend him with the same faithful assiduity. Her cheek was paler, her lip was graver, and perhaps she was a little more reserved; but it was not till he was well enough to listen calmly to what she had to say, that she disclosed her views and resolution-a resolution which scarcely surprised him, though a latent hope he had cherished rendered the blow difficult to bear.

'I think Bessy Mure quite right in refusing to marry you,' she said: 'such a union would be a bond of wretchedness to both. But neither, dear Vincent, must I marry you.'

'I knew it !' he cried; 'and yet you said that whatever I might have done, you had witnessed my sufferings, and could love me still?'

'And so I do,' she said. 'Why else am I here? As brother and sister we may surely love each other. I was the innocent cause of your hallucination, and, depend on it, I will be faithful to you through life, and help you to sustain your burden.'

Vincent felt he had no right to complain; but his heart rebelled against this decision. He was angry with the strength of mind that could form it. He said he saw she had never loved him, and was irritable and unjust; thus convincing Emily how wisely she had resolved. But she did not desert him in his weakness. She never ceased to uphold and to fortify him, both by precept and example, and by such proofs of devotion, as at length forced from him the confession that the love that could afford them must be rich indeed! As this conviction gained on him, he became happier. He began to appreciate the purity and loftiness of her nature, and was proud to be the possessor of such a heart. This feeling reacted on his own character: it elevated him, and made him emulous to render himself worthy of so true and noble an attachment.

In the meantime the world wondered and talked. 'Let them talk,' she said, 'they will weary of us by and by, and find another subject.' Of course Mr Halkelt was surprised and puzzled: he wanted to see her married.

'Never mind, father!' she said. 'If I don't marry Vincent Halloway, you will have me always with you; for I shall never marry any one else.'

Rachel's woman's heart revealed to her some inkling of the truth-that is, she guessed there had been another love, another engagement; for she too had witnessed her son's anguish. Jacob looked on severely. The Reform Bill being carried, his excitement had subsided, and as he rather despised himself for the relaxations it had won from him, and the follies, as he considered them, into which he had allowed his son to launch, he did not condescend to ask questions, but shut himself up in his austere silence.