spoke of him coldly; and the brief and almost disparaging remarks that she made upon him were only as if she built a monument of cold stone over her buried happiness, thus making more apparent to all what she wished none to know.

But Mr. Rubasore cared but little about any heart that throbbed not for him; and, perhaps, if one could have been found that trusted him with its love, he would have withered it with unkindness, or broken it with cruelty. But he much cared for the tale that the poor girl was telling; and, when he had heard the whole of it, even he, in his long-practised duplicity, was scarcely able to repress the all-absorbing interest he took in it.

"Now, my dear Miss Rosalie, tell me only the name and the present retreat of this young hero ?"

The young lady shuddered at this request. Certainly, she had nothing to fear from the charitable physician, yet she hesitated, and,

finally, said she could not. Mr. Rubasore became more urgent, and distressed her dreadfully by his entreaties.

At length she said: "I think that I have sworn not to divulge to any one those two very particulars, without the express permission of the individual himself. Father, father, step up here a moment!"

M. Florentine puffed himself up into the little room, all powder, politeness, and promptitude to oblige.

"Father," continued Rosalie, "have we not sworn never to divulge either his name or his place of refuge, both of which our good preserver is anxious of learning? Have we not sworn, father?"

"Ah! Bah! But he did not know Monsieur. He never could have meant to include him."

And thus the too easy Frenchman, taking Mr. Rubasore aside, whispered the important intelligence into his ears: the fatal words were divulged.

Mr. Rubasore had much difficulty to suppress the betrayal of his inordinate satisfaction. However, he assured them that now, without compromising the safety of the obnoxious individual, he would immediately get both father and daughter placed upon the eleemosynary list of the government; and then, amidst a shower of undeserved blessings, the traitor took his leave.

Mr. Rubasore had some influence with the government-indeed, more than was sufficient to enable him speedily and effectually to serve the Florentines. But had they had Rosalie known, that now the daily bread they were eating would, perhaps, soon be tainted by the life's-blood of one, for whom she would have joyfully laid down her life, that life would have been most joyfully sacrificed to recal their incautious act.

We must now, in imitation of Mr. Rubasore, leave these worthy people for the present, and proceed, by-and-by, to Jaspar Hall. But before we place ourselves, for the time, in so much good company as we shall find there, we must

shake ourselves clear of the bad, by merely stating that, through the instrumentality of Mr. Rubasore, his attorney, Mr. Sharpus, and two or three gentlemen wearing very antiquated wigs, Captain Oliver Oliphant was already pronounced to be in contempt of the awful Court of Chancery, and a warrant was out for committing that very gallant officer from one fleet to another, in which other the chances were greatly in his favour that he would not be drowned.

We will now suppose Mr. Underdown and Peter Drivel to be safely-and, considering all things, not uncomfortably-housed at the Plough, in the small hamlet in the neighbourhood of Jaspar Hall. Mr. Underdown had provided himself with an epistle from Captain Oliphant, which, if it had been submitted to the revision of Peter, would, as Peter himself punned it, have caused him to hem! until he had got a stitch in his side. Mr. Underdown thought that it would answer the purpose very well, though he only presumed at the contents,

and supposed that they might boast the proper allowance of nautical metaphor usually conspicuous in the young officer's phraseology.

The next forenoon, Peter Drivel, having sought in vain for pretty Nell, and sadly wanting occupation for his vor, returned to the inn, big with the intelligence that he had got no news, and half mad with his ineffectual attempts to make a pun upon the word steeple; however he consoled himself a little by saying that the subject was too lofty for him.

Then Mr. Underdown set out upon his delicate mission, provided with the above-mentioned nautical letter, Peter as his credentials-who, in his turn, was provided with the Universal Spelling-book-and the consciousness of honesty and rectitude of purpose.

Mr. Underdown ran a great chance of being entirely defeated by the simple occurrence of not being able to obtain an interview with Miss Belmont. Mrs. Dredgely received him, and, as discourteously as any one pretending to be a