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maining strength, but Ferdinand shook his head, and threw his eye around the

room.

"We are alone," said the baron, understanding the meaning of that searching glance.

""Tis well," replied his son; " and now tell me, my father, why went you at such an hour to that lone vault?"

De Courcy would willingly have evaded an answer, but Ferdinand besought a reply.

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My people feared the presence of spectres there-I rather anticipated concealed banditti; but, resolved on instant discovery, rashly ventured alone. Ere Villars joined me, I encountered a ruffian, whom I essayed to detain; but, urged by fear, he plunged his rescued dagger in my body."

Various was the expression that flitted over the countenance of Ferdinand, as he listened to this brief explanation. Both were silent a few moments; Ferdinand

then

then spoke-" Give me my sabre, my father."

The sabre was presented to him; he drew it slowly from its scabbard-its edge was deeply stained with blood. He looked towards his father, as if to ask him whether that sight told its own story. De Courcy in breathful earnestness watched the scene; a confused expectation of the event went sickening to his heart-he felt as if the crisis of his fate approached. In an instant, Ferdinand plunged the weapon into his own bosom.

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"Rash young man!" cried the baron, why this desperate deed ?"

"Blood must expiate blood," murmured Ferdinand.

"Ha! the stranger

"The ruffian was your son," said Ferdinand, articulating the words with dif ficulty.

In vain the baron sought to stanch the wound-the life-blood issued fast. Ferdinand

G 6

Ferdinand with desperate force drew out the weapon; the point was now gouted with fresher drops-his eye gazed upon it till its glance slowly lost its object, and closed upon all earthly vision-he sighed heavily, and fell back a corpse. The baron was discovered watching the senseless clay, almost as still, as cold, as pale, as the form he watched."

CHAP

CHAPTER X.

MRS. Egerton, with her little girl in her hand, had walked into the village to pay her quarterly bills. She was disbursing the last of these, at a small shop, dealing in multifarious articles, when the mournful voice and swollen eyes of the shopwoman attracted her notice. There was something so potent in the appearance of suppressed affliction, that Mrs. Egerton, with all her fortitude (and few could boast more), ineffectually strove against its dominion. Her own eyes filled with tears, as she asked and heard the tale of humble wo a distress (how bitterly appropriate is the term!) was in the house.

Mrs.

Mrs. Egerton was not apt to bound her compassion to sympathizing tearsless was she disposed to stop short in the work of benevolence. She entreated to see the wretched family, and was admitted.

In the small apartment, that in better days was the happy scene of industry, concord, and content, what a group now appeared!

Two stern-looking men were taking an inventory of the humble furniture, and one had just laid his hand on a wicker cradle, in which an infant yet slept, unconscious of the work of ruin. A very old man, with clasped hands, sat near a decaying fire, no longer blazing for the cheerful meal; his son, struggling with his own grief, sought to whisper consolation to his wife, whose uncontrollable affliction vented itself in loud sobs and cries. A young boy, half frightened, clung to his mother for

pro

tection,

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