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return immediately." Then to prevent the possibil ity of any intruder, locked the drawing-room door, and hurrying down the stairs, went out at the back of the house, and ran along the narrow streets, till he reached the Chiesa del Redentore, a few doors from which he found a surgeon, who seeing Mowbray's pale, agitated face, and at first from his dress mistaking him for a capuchin, exclaimed, "Casa stupenda! avrà aduto forse qualche terrore mio padre ?"

Mowbray explained to him briefly as possible, that an English lady at Il Leone Bianco had been suddenly taken ill through meeting with an accident, and putting her wrist out of joint; and urged him to make all possible speed, almost dragging the poor doctor along as he spoke. In his eagerness his hood had fallen off, and discovered his crisp, curling, dark brown hair, Achilles-like head, and handsome face, as unlike a monk's as needs be, to say nothing of the perfections of his mouth and teeth, which differed widely from any member's of that worthy fraternity. At sight of such a handsome cavaliero, a light seemed to break upon the doctor, whom Mowbray would hardly give time to collect his bandages and necessary implements, exclaiming every moment, "Audiamo, partiamo! Signor Dottore;" whereupon the doctor whistled out, with a Figaro nod of the head, “ Chi ha amor nel petto ha le sprone ne i fianchi."

At length the doctor's cloak was on, and they had just gained the threshold of the door, when a stout brown damsel, with a voice like a peacock, came screaming after the poor Esculapius, to tell him that he would lose his supper, which was quite ready; but the only notice he took of this, was the rather ungracious one of "Tace, tace, Biondetta, tre donne e un occa fan un mercato." Embarking at the nearest canal, Mowbray told the gondoliers to row with all speed to the Palazzo Barberigo, (which Madame de A. had hired,) in order that he might get the note conveyed to Berryl, and then proceeded as quickly as possible to Il Leone Bianco. On arriving he hurried up stairs before the doctor, so as to unlock the drawing-room door: the noise he made in doing so roused Lady de Clifford, who moved slightly.

"Come in, doctor," said Mowbray. "What do you think had better be done? She appears to have been insensible ever since I went for you, and all her fami

ly being at this ball of Madame de A.'s, I am doubly anxious about this poor lady."

"Sicuro," said the doctor, with a half smile, as he proceeded to feel Lady de Clifford's pulse; and, then shaking his head, asked for some eau de Cologne and other restoratives. Mowbray flew to his dressingroom for them, and when he returned found that Julia began to evince symptoms of returning animation. Her brow was slightly contracted, as if from the pain occasioned her by pressing her wrist; a faint murmur escaped her lips. Mowbray bent down to listen to what she was trying to say, and distinctly heard the words, "Dear Mowbray !" Totally forgetting that the poor doctor did not understand one word of English, and that if he had he would not have known who Mowbray was, he turned to him and said-" She is asking for her maid; and-and-she is not come yet."

"Well, well," replied the doctor, "you take her left hand and rub the palm of it, while I bandage up the other."

Mowbray almost wished that she would not revive, that his occupation might continue. Soon, however, she opened her eyes, and looked vacantly at him and then at the doctor; at length she started wildly up, and looking round, put her hand to her head, and said, "Where am I?"

"Here-at home-in the drawing-room," said Mowbray gently. "Dear Lady de Clifford, you have been very ill," continued he, his voice trembling with emotion; "you have met with some terrible accident; and-and sprained your wrist, I believe-so I went for a doctor to look at it-and this is he."

"You went for a doctor!" said Julia, straining back her hair, and looking wildly at Mowbray, "and who -when-I mean where is my child-where is my sister-where are they all? and why am I here with you alone? In mercy tell me what has happened;" and she flung herself frantically on her knees before him. "O God! this is too much!" said Mowbray, lifting her on the sofa; "do be calm, dearest Lady de Clifford, and I will tell you everything. They are at the ball-Madame de A.'s ball. We were all going. You hurt your wrist in some way or other, and fainted, I suppose, from the pain. Happening to pass through the room at the time, I found you in a state of insenVOL. II.-B

sibility, and went for this man; that is all, upon my honour; but take care of your hand-you see it has been bandaged."

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O yes! I remember," said she, with a slight shudder, looking at her hand, “you are ver-very good, Mr. Mowbray. I am shocked to have given you so much trouble; but pra-pray don't let me detain you from the ball."

"Till your maid (whom I have sent for) comes, you certainly must detain me," replied he, coldly, "and then I will rid you of my presence."

"Rid me!" repeated Julia, raising her eyes, filled with tears, to his "do forgive me, and don't think me ungrateful."

"Not unless angels are so," said Mowbray; and then turning quickly round to the doctor, who was steeping lint in eau de Cologne at the table, asked him what he thought the signora had best take. Whereupon that worthy man advanced with a scientific shrug, and again feeling Lady de Clifford's pulse, put the usual Italian medical query, whether about a broken neck or a scratched finger

"Avreble 'ella forse fatto una caduta, signora?" Lady de Clifford answered, "No-that she had had no fall."

At which the doctor again shrugged his shoulders, and raised his eyebrows, and saying he would send her some leeches for her hand, and a composing draught for herself, turned to Mowbray to ask the lady's name to whom they were to be sent; and the latter having written it on a piece of paper, the doctor took leave, promising to call early in the morning. The door closed, and Julia and Mowbray were again alone. A few moments' perfect silence ensued, which Lady de Clifford was the first to break.

"I am sure," said she, hesitatingly, "I have much to thank you for. Will you forgive all the trouble I have occasioned you? I-I-am quite well now; and pray don't let me detain you any longer-hereaway that is, from the ball, I mean," added she, extending her hand to Mowbray, and making an effort to rise as she spoke.

"Julia!" cried he, seizing her proffered hand, and kneeling passionately before her, "all disguise is useless-the veil is rent-the idol has revealed its own mysteries-the dense masses of doubt-of danger

aye, and of duty, that concealed them, have crumbled around us, and the immutable truth has flooded my soul with a divine light, that neither time nor eternity can shadow nor extinguish.

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Julia, you love me! Nay, tremble not, nor turn from me. Yes, you love me!-dear, dear words! It is your heart, and not your lips, which have pronounced them. That heart, which, in spite of yourself, is mine, will not, cannot, conceal its minutest pulsation from me; and surely mine has not been in your possession so long, without convincing you that no other ever yet beat with the same devotion, the same truth, the same purity of worship towards any human being. I know all that you would say, and that others would suspect; for I know the fatal, the insurmountable barrier that exists between us; but is it because one shrine is richer than any other, that we cannot kneel at it, without being suspected of sacrilege? Were you like other women, I might love you with the ordinary love of men-if that be more than brute selfishness, which destroys, while it degrades, deserves that sacred name; but the moment I respected you less, I should love you less-think you, then."

"O God!" cried Julia, struggling to release her hand, "have mercy on me. If you indeed love me, release me. You know I must not, ought not, to listen to such language from any human being. I know not what accident may have revealed to you my guilty, my unpardonable weakness! Despise me, I fear you must; but pity, while you despise."

"Julia!" said Mowbray, solemnly, releasing her hand, "why degrade yourself by talking of guilt! Do you think that the great God is a just or an unjust being? Has he made any grammatical distinctions in the Decalogue? Has he said to man, thou shalt commit such and such sins, and to woman, thou shalt not? And if man, who is in the daily habit of violating the most sacred and explicit of God's commandments, still hopes for mercy, shall woman be put beyond the pale of redemption, for a mere feeling, which is involuntary ?"

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Certainly not," said Julia, "I firmly believe, that however custom, and the laws they themselves make, may absolve men for the violation of God's commandments in this world, that they will have to give a strict and fearful account in the next. Yet, sin in

others is no excuse for sin in ourselves. Did we merely owe duty towards man, there would be nothing sacred or binding in our obligations. And their great enormities might palliate, while they provoked, lesser ones in us; but upon the first and faintest dawning of every sin, above all those ''gainst which the Almighty has set his canon,' let us ask our hearts, with the pure and obedient Hebrew captive, 'Can I do this, and commit this great sin against God?' for, depend upon it, this self-interrogation is our only safeguard, as it can be our only standard of right and wrong."

"And think you," replied Mowbray, mournfully, "that I would wish or ask you to sin against that God in whom my whole trust for you is placed? Ah, Julia! you little know the nature and depth of what I feel for you, or you would know that almost my every thought of you is a prayer; for angels themselves are not purer than the feelings you inspire. Your sorrows alone would make you sacred in my eyes. Had you been happy, I might have been wretch enough to have attempted the destruction of that happiness; but as it is, the foul fiend himself would shrink from injuring you. Your friend none can blame, nor prevent my being. I know how suspicious the title sounds, when it is adopted by a lover; but there is a friendship which is love-in everything but passionate vows, caprice, and inconstancy; and such you shall find mine for you, Julia. This night has been the crisis of my-of our fate; and it has been dark and starless till now. When the moon is rising gloriously, see how it floods that wide waste of waters, brightening even the dark and death-like burdens it bears upon its bosom. And now its rays fall upon the wings of the diamond dove in your hair, and they actually seem to flutter and hover over you. Be this unto us as an omen and a promise of brighter, happier hours."

And again Mowbray knelt before her; and as he covered her hand (which she no longer withheld) with kisses, their tears fell hot and fast, and mingled as they fell.

"But that poor hand," said he, "tell me, was it, could it have been that monster De Clifford who struck you?"

Julia turned away her head, and made no answer. "Ah! I see how it is," said he, "chi tace confessa. Good heavens! what are some men made of !"

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