any further interruption at Edgar's residence, when the lights of the Massalgies flashing upon their burthen, discovered a countenance, which, among our hero's wildest suspicions of his enemy's identity, had never once crossed his thoughts-the countenance of Captain Kreutzer.

His astonishment at this discovery was scarcely less than that with which he had received the first intimation of the plot. He had no knowledge of the Captain, beyond the casual acquaintance to which we have already adverted; and when he had, two days before, paid him the greater part of his losses, and placed securities in his possession for the remainder, they had apparently parted on the best possible terms. He revolved, over and over again, what had passed between them, endeavouring to recollect whether any offensive word or gesture had escaped him, for which, with the vindictive spirit, rather cultivated than restrained among so many of his countrymen, he might consider that his honour called upon him for revenge; and though he was unable to charge himself with any such oversight, yet that some such

offence had unwittingly been given, seemed the only cause which could possibly have occasioned the Captain's enmity. But whatever the origin of the injury, and however unworthy the means of satisfaction employed, Edgar was sufficiently a Christian to remember only, at this moment, that the being before him was suffering and helpless, and that the last act of the spirit which seemed about to quit its earthly tenement, had been a crime of so deep and awful a dye, that humanity turned shuddering from the contemplation of that spirit's being hurried from its very commission, into the presence of an offended God. In the hope of being able to prevent, if possible, so awful a consummation—or at least delaying the moment of death, till the wretched man should have been enabled to make some preparation, if weak and imperfect, for that change which the best among us may well regard with awe-Edgar half forgot that the hand which lay so motionless in his, had been clutched around his throat-that the heart, whose powers he was now (though to all appearance vainly) endeavouring to rëani

mate, had last throbbed with virulent animosity towards himself, and had probably lost its consciousness in the very moment that it was smarting with regret for the failure of its infamous design upon the life of a fellow being.

CHAPTER XII.

I boast one solace yet

One last, one dear, one sad-Oh! 'tis when Eve
Dispreads her dew-wove veil, when no rude eye
Marks my wan cheek, slow step, and start abrupt,
To wander, and to muse unmarked, unknown;
To trace the thought no breast has e'er conceived,
To heave the sigh no ear has ever drank,

And thine must never!

MATURIN.

In order to account for the part which Luslaya bore in the foregoing transactions, a part so utterly at variance with her character as a woman, and her feelings as a Hindu, it is necessary to retrograde a little in the order of our narration.

The house in which Edgar resided was situated near the river. Close to one side of the grounds were several of the picturesque bungalows which, with their small but generally neat and tasteful plantations, contribute so greatly to the beauty of the Barrackpore scenery. The other side was uncultivated, and a small door opened upon a piece of ground which led down to the river's bank. Here the hand of art was not visible; all was in that wild but beautiful luxuriance in which Nature loves to clothe herself. The grass in some places grew so high as almost to form a miniature jungle; and a number of mango trees, with here and there a chulta or a guava, grew down to the water's edge, as if they, like the human natives of the soil, loved and reverenced the sacred stream of the Ganges. As this spot was wholly unfrequented, Luslaya, whom the privacy so habitual to Eastern females did not permit to appear on the public promenade, would sometimes steal out, accompanied by her ayah, to enjoy the cool breezes which make the evenings in these climates so refreshing and so delightful.