was still pacing the room with a glass of brandy-and-water in his hand, stuttered out: "Write away, Colman! By 'od, you are a bold fellow! You can tell them that virtue is a fine thing !"

Despite the younger Colman's insinuation, the above anecdote by no means proves that Thornton had the lesser share in the authorship of the Connoisseur. His superiority in years, coupled with his love of the whimsical, point to the shrewd views of life interspersed in the essays, and the sprightliness with which the follies of the times are noted and ridiculed, as chiefly owing to his pen. The oddities of cits are as accurately depicted as the affectations of beaux and collegians, and the whole series of essays forms a moving picture of the laughable side of all classes at a most quaint period.

As instances, out of many, may be taken the descriptions of 'A Citizen's Visit, with his Wife and Daughters, to Vauxhall' (No. 68); 'A London Tradesman in the Country' (No. 79); 'Sea Officers' (No. 84), &c.

The papers in the Connoisseur by other hands than those of Thornton and Colman are not many.

Four are by Cowper, of which one -the 'Mishaps of Christopher Ironside, an old Bachelor'-has humour enough to remind us that the gentle poet of the 'Task' and 'Tirocinium' was also the writer of everfamous 'John Gilpin.'

The Connoisseur has been included in all the standard collections of British essayists. Its place by order of merit is side by side with the World and Adventurer. A little more gravity at times would have improved it, and it must be considered as classically inferior to the Rambler and the Idler.

We have not mentioned several of Thornton's minor productions, such as City Latin, published in 1760, in ridicule of the inscription on Blackfriars or 'Pitt's' Bridge (as it was first called). He was also a frequent contributor of short pieces of wit to the St. James's Chronicle and other newspapers. Of these, after his death, Colman proposed to make a collection, but never executed the task.

Of Thornton's translation of several plays of Plautus (2 vols. 1766) it is not within our design to speak. The translation, now very scarce, was highly praised by Warburton for its elegance and fidelity.

J. CANNON.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

IN skill with the sword De Gaillefontaine and René were fairly equal. René, constitutionally strong, vigorous, quick of perception, and resolute in carrying out a set purpose, had applied herself to the art of fencing at De Gaillefontaine's instigation, and had succeeded in it so well that her master was glad to discontinue his lessons. His pupil at that time had attained to a sufficient proficiency. She fenced as well as he; and further practice might disturb the nice equilibrium which should be sustained between pupil and master. Since those fencing lessons neither had handled a weapon, except when René took up the foil in Hugh's studio.

De Gaillefontaine had not admitted even to himself that René was his superior; such an admission with respect to any one or anything was impossible to one with so good an opinion of himself; and René did not overrate her own ability in thinking herself nearly as adroit as her instructor. Nevertheless, as they stood before each other now, the advantage was with René, notwithstanding her loose costume and the mask upon her face.

In the first place she knew, by her practice with De Gaillefontaine, which were his weakest guards, his most dangerous attacks; but a like knowledge, which had given him an occasional ascendency over René upon former occa

VOL. XXI.

sions, was useless to him now that her identity was concealed from him.

But he suffered from still greater disadvantage owing to his adversary's mask.

A swordsman's safety depends upon his sight as much as his dexterity. The expression of his opponent's eye tells him what attack to parry, what advantage to seize. Rene's eyes told M. de Gaillefontaine nothing; the mask entirely concealed their expression. He felt this disadvantage the moment their swords met. Through the piercings in the black - silk visor he saw nothing but devilish fire that dazzled his eyes and baffled his understanding. It took all his courage to meet that steady basilisk look; what to prepare for, what to do, he knew not.

René, detecting his weakness, made a pass which De Gaillefontaine barely attempted to parry, and at once pricked her adversary's sword arm above the elbow. They dropped their points. René shuddered as a little red patch made its appearance upon the white shirtsleeve. Hugh stepped to her side as De Gaillefontaine's friends surrounded him.

'My dear fellow,' said he, 'throw away that cursed steel, and have done with this villanous folly. The man's got as much as he wants; leave him.'

'To you? I might as well have risked nothing as to leave the work half done.'

SS

'Will nothing induce you to desist ?'

'Will you promise me to slink out of your quarrel if I sneak out of mine? No, you won't, because this wonderful René's honour is concerned. Now, supposing that I value your life as much as you do this girl's honour, will any inducement make me forego my service to you? No.'

De Gaillefontaine's sleeve was turned back, and his wound declared a trifle. He would gladly have had it more serious. He received advice from all sides, and was assured that his victory was certain against this foolhardy boy. Feeling how little he could depend upon himself, and galled by the advice and consolation for the wound, which all declared was accidental, the Gascon grew desperate at heart. 'When you can't parry, thrust,' recurred to his mind, and he took his place with the determination to attack boldly. René saw his intention before they crossed swords, although De Gaillefontaine avoided her eyes until the last moment. He lunged twice in rapid succession, but his point was turned in each instance. eyes behind the mask showed nothing, neither of motive nor apprehension, but their steady gleam was insupportable. De Gaillefontaine blinked as though lightning flashed in his eyes, and, maddened by dread and passion, he shortened his rapier and threw himself furiously against his adversary. With a rapid movement and a firm guard, René saved herself; but her point, again catching his sword-arm almost in the place of the previous wound, was driven through to the guard by the force of his impetuous lunge.

The

René shrieked with horror, and dropping her hand, tottered backwards, leaving her rapier in De Gaillefontaine's arm. The sight of

his blood upon her hand stopped the swift beating of her heart; a strange humming noise in her head drowned the words she was conscious Hugh spoke to her; a cold clammy sweat broke out upon her face; a deadly sickness came over her; a confused vision of the gailycostumed maskers drawing her rapier from De Gaillefontaine's arm, mingled with the look of hate and pain upon his features; the trees above her, and the face of Hugh livid with fear, whirled before her, and she lost consciousness. As Hugh caught the tottering Spaniard in his encircling arms, he became aware that the body he held was a woman's.

'Water, water!' he cried. 'Quick!' An Italian with a spirit-flask turned to assist, and advised Hugh to remove the mask. He remembered being told that the mask was fastened to the wig. Supporting Rene's head upon his knee, he took the wig by the edge, and lifted it. A loud cry of astonishment from Hugh and the Italian attracted attention, and De Gaillefontaine and the man supporting him moved towards the lesser group to discover the cause of surprise. The Spaniard's wig and mask were upon the grass, and the mystery was solved. The blue-black hair had fallen down, released from confinement, and Rene's head was reduced to its natural proportions; and though the lower part of her face was disfigured with hair and smeared with moistened paint, she was at once recognised.

'La Regina !'

And now M. de Gaillefontaine was left to fare for himself, and all thought was bestowed upon René; but Hugh for very jealousy would let no hand touch her or administer to her recovery but his own.

He lifted the tall slight girl in his arms as if she were a child, resting her cheek in the hollow of

his shoulder; and so he carried her slowly to the arbour, where the rugs were spread upon the seat. Whilst he thus bore her, her bosom heaved; a sigh coming from her lips flooded Hugh with delight. He knew that she was living, who, body and soul, was ten times lovelier than his hopeful imagining had pictured her; and that she loved him.

Now was patient faith rewarded, and he possessed the joy which comes with the triumph of a forlorn hope.

CHAPTER XL.

LEFT to himself, M. de Gaillefontaine, after a moment's reflection, quitted the party noiselessly and as quickly as his exhaustion permitted. His wound had been bound tightly with handkerchiefs; and the hæmorrhage stopped, it would take no hurt for a while. A more momentous matter called for despatch. He had expressed his intention of bolting, and to do so he must act immediately. In half an hour's time the servants would know of the revolution that had taken place, and the carriage to take him away would not be at his command. He had revealed to René his most sinister intentions, and had no hope of forgiveness from her. His affairs were too desperate to think of any resort save the safest, and that was to take his little bag of gold and notes out of the country whilst it was possible.

As he approached the theatre, he stopped to draw the cloak over his wounded arm, and slouch his hat. The ligature about his arm gave him pain; and as he was loosening the knot with his teeth and fingers, he felt a hand laid

upon his shoulder. He turned in fear, and found himself faced by the woman in white velvet, whom he had mistaken for René.

She raised her mask sufficiently for him to see the face of Beatrice Raffiolli, as with a sardonic smile, and pointing to his bloody shirt, she asked,

'Do you love me very much?'

She replaced her mask, and with a light laugh rejoined a couple of men waiting for her at the angle formed by the path.

De Gaillefontaine clenched his teeth, and followed her quickly; at the angle he stopped and watched her cross the lawn and enter the theatre. She turned once, and kissed her hand. The Gascon's rage and bitter thirst for revenge upon this woman, to whom he now attributed all his misfortunes, were too deep for the ordinary form of relief-cursing.

It was broad daylight; there was no time for delay, not even for revenge. He must hasten his departure, if only to avoid the derision and ridicule that would pursue him when his humiliation was no longer secret. Ah, how those enemies would rejoice in his disgrace and defeat ! Oh, that this venom in his heart would take the form of a deadly pestilence, and strike down every one of these revelling foes! With such bitter yearning in his soul he mounted the terrace, and made for the door of the house. Suddenly he stopped, inspired with an idea.

'Why shouldn't I, who raised this place, ruin it?' he thought. 'At least in my going I may show that I am great; no miserable thief stealing away, but a defeated king retiring from the palace I built and destroyed. Why not? It would avert attention from myself, and facilitate escape.'

A pantaloon and an Irishman coming towards him decided him

in adopting the suggestion of his evil genius.

'Well,' said Mr. Fox, have you decided? Will you buy this very troublesome piece of parchment ?'

'Yes. We will settle our accounts this hour, and this parchment shall trouble neither of us any more. Follow me to where we may make our settlement privately.'

'You go first, my friend,' said Fox to his friend with the cudgel.

De Gaillefontaine turned about quickly, descended the terracesteps, and led the way to the back of the theatre, which was concealed by a shrubbery. He looked into the theatre with an evil eye as he passed the chief entrance, which was wide open to admit the fresh morning breeze, and seemed already to catch his name mingled with the laughter. Arrived at a door in the wall of the theatre, he paused and took a bunch of keys from his pocket. His wound made him powerless to use his right hand, so he put the keys into Mr. Fox's hands, pointing out the key to make use of. No one could be more considerate and obliging than Mr. Fox he opened the door, closed it when they were inside, and put the key in the lock for use when they returned. M. de Gaillefontaine bowed his acknowledgment.

In planning the theatre, M. de Gaillefontaine, with a view to spectacular effect, had given extreme depth to the stage; but in rehearsing the opera this depth was considered an acoustic disadvantage, and a considerable space was parted off by means of a strong wooden partition. It was the end of the stage thus divided in which the three men now stood.

There was a small skylight in the roof, but the light transmitted was sufficient to reveal only the outlines of the larger benches,

steps, &c. with which the place was encumbered.

'We must have a light,' said M. de Gaillefontaine.

The Irishman had matches loose in his pocket, and he proceeded to strike one on the bowl of his clay pipe. Meanwhile Mr. Fox, standing close by the door in partial obscurity, was cogitating. His inquisitive disposition had led him, in the course of the hour previous to the appointed meeting, into the stable-yard, and his conversational powers he had employed to such advantage that he learnt De Gaillefontaine's intention to leave Riverford at a moment's notice. Why he should leave hastily and secretly, Fox could not understand; but he was prepared to regard every action of the Gascon's as treacherous and inimical to his in

terests. He reflected how easy it would be for De Gaillefontaine, who knew every turn of this building, to give him and his protector the slip, and leave them to find their way through the devious windings, while he was flying from Riverford in safe secrecy. Mr. Fox stealthily closed his soft long fingers round the keys, and withdrew them from the door, while his friend was lighting the match. He had no knowledge of the good his action was doing; but in all doubtful courses he followed that which at least could do no harm.

De Gaillefontaine took the match and lit the gas. Mr. Fox looked about him. There were no passages; the place seemingly was merely a large lofty workshop. The carpenters and scene-painters had used it. The floor was covered thickly with shavings and a litter of light slips of wood, such as are used to form the framework of flats and wings; and against the wooden partition was stacked the scenery used in the performance, and removed hither through a lofty narrow door