her sitting up, one of the men, whom I remember having seen playing all sorts of mountebankistical tricks at Southampton, went to her, and wanted her to take some food, and she would not, but pointed to the baby, and laughed; and I could not help thinking there was something wild and scared in that laugh; and her eyes, too, wandered; and at last, when the child fell asleep, she commenced twisting her hair and curling it up, and holding out her arms (thin and white enough they looked), as if she were admiring the glass beads and coloured ribands that were bound up and down and done into tassels upon them; and that was enough for me, for I saw at once the creeter's head was not right, which, as I said to myself, was an excuse for her forgetting all her promises. We are only flesh and blood, the best of us; and it brought tears into my eyes to see the love she bore her unfortunate child, and how she looked at and kissed it. And I'd give a year's pay she wasn't with them vagabonds; nor can I make out how she got among them at all. I heard she was wiled off by one of Colonel Kirke's officers. She never had but one fault, Master Basil,--she was over-fond of dress, and loved a gay kirtle and a farthingale better than any thing else."

"But," said Basil, interested for the first time in the troubles of Jemmings, and yet anxious to gain some information as to the passing reports of the country, "what else did you see, Jemmings?"

Jemmings sighed deeply while he replied, "I saw only Cicely, your honour."

Basil and Jemmings repaired to the barn exactly as the morning dawned, both intent upon procuring information; but, to their great disappointment, the party had disappeared, and left no more trace than the bird that wings his pathless way through the blue sky.

CHAPTER XII.

Augustus. The plot thickens, Claudio.
Claudio. Methinks it is full time,

For one act of the play is finished.
OLD DRAMA.

SOME days had elapsed, and matters went on as usual at Sydney Pleasance: the soldiers had taken their departure for another division of the country, information, which appeared indisputable, having been given that the person they sought had been tracked to the borders of Surry. Cuthbert Raymond and Basil Sydney purposed returning to the camp at Hounslow the next day,—that is, they intended setting off on their journey the following morning; for travelling was then, even for soldiers on horseback, a more eventful matter than it is at present. Their steeds were good, and their anxiety great to regain head-quarters, although the desire proceeded from a different source in each.

Upon those whom it nearly concerned, the acquaintance so suddenly formed between the cousins was a matter of deep interest, and Lady Sydney resolved to ascertain the nature of Basil's feelings before he left her again, to aid in her beloved cause. She disdained a confidant; she employed ministers, but she had no friends.

How she loved her son has been explained; but she loved him, if possible, more when she remembered that on the morrow he would not shelter beneath her roof. On the morrow he would be on his way to aid her king--she hoped, to aid him--but her mind misgave her; he had avoided the subject, next to himself, nearest to her heart; and she feared had been worked upon by some power stronger than Sir Everard's. He had more than once been seen wandering in the woods of Brokenhurst, when bands of friends had assembled to meet the young heir of Sydney Pleasance. She endeavoured to discover the secrets that were enveloped in the dark womb of time, and the information she received, like all information of the kind, was of a double import; it said, “that disaster threatened the house of Sydney, and yet as

sured her that Basil-" but we will not anticipate, even though our information should be derived from no better source than an astrologer.

"I wish I were going with you, my son," she said to him affectionately, "for every movement of the royal army is to me an event of the deepest moment. Oh, Basil! how ear nestly will I pray that you may do your duty, and yet be preserved. The rumour is still they come,' and yet it is hardly possible that Mary would league against her father." "Be assured, my dearest mother, I will do my duty, whatever that may be."

"There is a cloud over your brow," she said, somewhat angrily; "you tamper with your loyalty."

66

No, mother, it is not so; I do not tamper; but the feelings of the man mingle with those of the soldier. It is not fair to sever them: but we will talk no more of this. I am your son, and a Sydney-is not that sufficient guarantee for my honour? There is one thing I would speak of; I saw pal pably, at the window of this very room, a man whom I have seen before in London, when, in a boyish freak, I went accompanied by other youths to read the stars. I mean neither to question nor extol his skill; but will you tell me if he is known to you beyond his art ?"

Had a bolt from heaven struck Lady Sydney, she could not have been more confounded: she felt ashamed, she knew not exactly why; for until that time belief in the occult sciences was accounted more a matter of faith than superstition; yet her pride was wounded that Basil should suppose she wanted any direction, save the excellence of her own judgment; this she desired that all should consider omnipotent; and though on ordinary occasions a lover of honesty, she would readily have formed an excuse, or invented a falsehood, had her son once removed his eye from her countenance: but he knew his advantage, and she resolved to tell the truth-"That, hearing of the great fame of the renowned Partridge, she had sent to him the necessary computations, and had invited him to Sydney Pleasance, where," she said, "he had recently but secretly been."

Basil asked why he had come secretly, as Partridge was invited openly to the houses of all the nobility, and was everywhere a welcome guest.

Lady Sydney replied that such was his stipulation, and

she could not otherwise account for it. She hinted also that Sir Everard would not have relished the introduction of such a visiter.

Strange to say, Basil appeared more perplexed at her explanation than when he saw the mysterious profile at his mother's window, or met the prophetic scarlet-mantled soothsayer of the forest.

66 And now, my son, that I have replied to your question, I pray you answer me as frankly. May I believe that what you told me is true, and that you will remember your promise, and not again seek intercourse with the young person under the care of the venerable lady of St. Mary's priory?" "You mean my cousin ?"

66

Perhaps you may so call her; but I am grieved that a child of mine should thus acknowledge a connection so disgraceful."

Basil Sydney had ever felt and ever manifested a profound respect for his mother; she had been to him the beau-ideal, not only of all that was kind and good, but of all that was magnificent and admirable in woman; yet at the moment she made the observation, he felt how little he should desire such a one to be his wife. The idea of the beautiful Rosalind being considered disgraceful grated so painfully on his feelings that he could not help saying, "So highly did he think of the young lady she alluded to, that he only wished to Heaven she could be considered his legal cousin; and then, indeed, he should be but too proud to present her to her ladyship as her daughter."

Lady Sydney had lately experienced contradiction from her husband; she was, nevertheless, ill prepared for such an observation from her son. She had relied upon his practising the doctrine of passive obedience; and she reproached him in terms so bitter, so severe, that, without giving the promise she required, he abruptly left her chamber. A breach with her son was a matter she had never calculated upon; and she relied too strongly on her power when she resolved that she would not see him, previous to his departure, unless he made what she could consider a fitting apology.

Basil went forth in no gentle temper to seek his father, and found the baronet considerably elated by two circumstances: -the first was, that he had the satisfaction of being accompanied, or rather followed, by Ralph, who, almost recovered,

looked more green and picturesque than ever; the second was, that he had just been brought a great speckled diver or loon, as it was commonly called, and he exhibited it to his son with evident satisfaction, descanting on its wonderful fitness for its mode of life, and illustrating the wisdom and goodness of God by displaying one of his beautiful works.

"I trust, my dear Basil," said the excellent man, whose cheerfulness ever led him to hope for the best, "that you will in a little time be able to return to us; despite the anticipations that are bruited about, I dare say matters will be settled tranquilly. I cannot believe that James will persevere in a persecuting spirit; and the best of all proofs is, that he has not taken any notice of the events which occurred here, though you had reason to think he would do so: our friend, too, I hope is safe: and so all things are ordered for the best-from the formation of this loon, whose correct name I would have you remember, Basil, is Colymbus Glacialis, to the arrangement and motion of the great globe itself.' I trust I shall have a pleasant summer of it; and 1 have just arranged with my poor follower here, touching a pair of Loxia, that have come to the downs yonder, being anxious to secure them alive; they are rare birds, and little is known of their habits. Ah, my poor boy! how I lament that your time is so totally consumed without the freedom which I wake but to enjoy, and but sleep to dream of. It is a glorious privilege to live in a place like this; to look up to the clear sky of heaven, and watch those clouds, tablets of the Almighty's will, whereon he writes his behests-to commune with the streams, and hear the words of wisdom in their gurgling voices-to hail the landscape as a friend, and cheer to the gladsome hills, that answer by their echoes. Oh, Basil! it would break my heart. should I by any circumstance be forced to leave this glorious place-my birthright by inheritance ! And my heart pants for the time, my son, when you too will value it as I do."

The old man clasped his hands in ecstasy, and murmured forth a prayer; brief it might be called by man, but of magnitude in the sight of HIM who computes our feelings, not our words. "It is very strange," he continued, seating himself on the marble steps of a rustic temple, upon whose top was placed a dove holding a branch of olive in its bill, but I feel so very tranquil-so very happy, I could sleep on