don't wonder at the election you have made; indeed, I always thought when you were a boy, that you would be a soldier; you were so courageous and spirited, to what other youth were of the same age.”

"Ah! dear Jessy, but I am not so courageous in all things," uttered Wolf, observing that Jessy still wore on her right hand a ring given her by the Lady Agatha in the earliest days of their friendship, when at Herring Dale, and in which was enclosed some of her beautiful hair, the sight of which produced an involuntary sigh from the heart of the devoted youth; while Mrs. Russel, perceiving on what object his eyes were fixed, though perfectly unconscious of the deep passion that her lovely friend had so early inspired in the heart of Wolf, whose attachment to the Lady Agatha she attributed to boyish gratitude, innocently exclaimed

"I perceive by your looking so earnestly at this ring, Wolf, that you remember it was the gift of my dear Agatha."

To which Wolf answered with a sigh, "Ah, Jessy, those were happy days!"

"Were they," cried Jessy, "not so happy methinks as the present ones; happy-how strangely you talk, Wolf! you surely cannot deem those days happy, which were a source of misery both to me and Agatha Singleton; for still must I call her so, for by that name I loved her best."

"And so did I, dear Jessy!" repeated Wolf, involuntarily, "ah! would to heaven she had known no other!"

Jessy now perceived the agitated look and flushed cheek of Wolf, and with some surprise answered,-

"Nay, now you talk stranger still, for had she known no other name but Singleton, she would never have known that which nature gave her, or been restored to her father, and the Duke had yet remained ignorant of the existence of his lovely daughter."

"I did not mean the name of her father," uttered Wolf indignantly.

"Why what name then can you possibly mean?” inquired the now astonished Jessy, "she has but one other, and that is the name of her husband, Wolf! Wolf! let me not suppose that

Suppose what, dear Jessy," uttered Wolf.

Alfred had walked on a few paces before, in order to look at a vessel which was sailing out of the harbour, and was by this time out of the hearing of the conversation of his companions. And Jessy, looking full in the face of Wolf, softly murmured

"Let me not suppose that Wolf has any objection to the name of Lord Montague Montault, because he is the husband of Agatha Singleton."

"Jessy you have probed me deeply," uttered the agitated youth, though with a firm undaunted look, and decisive voice," yet I disdain to utter a falsehood; had your lovely friend another name, another title, it would still sound like the knell of departed happiness to the ear of Wolf, as that she bears does now. Oh! Jessy, sweet, gentle Jessy, inquire no farther into this mystery of my feelings, if yet a mystery it still appears to you. Agatha is married!-and Wolf-is-an iso

lated being, banished from her heavenly smiles. The Indian worships the sun's morning splendour, but Wolf, miserable Wolf, dare not worship the shrine which he adores! Oh! Jessy, Jessy!" and to the inexpressible heart-felt concern of Jessy, the agitated youth, at the conclusion of these words, burst into a convulsive flood of tears, which greatly relieved his oppressed heart. Ashamed however of betraying this weakness in the presence of a female, he apologized to Jessy for thus intruding his sorrows on her gentle heart.

"In which they repose as securely as in your own, dear Wolf," uttered she. "Before this day you knew the disposition of Jessy, and have no fear that she will betray the secret of your heart."

They were now seated on a bench, constructed by Samuel out of the trunk of an aged oak, which had fallen in the plantation, and it was removed to the garden for the convenience of Mrs. Russel, whenever she was fatigued in pruning her plants and flowers, by her affectionate and attentive husband; and when they arrived at the spot where it was, she persuaded Wolf to sit down, and endeavour to recover his wonted energy; but such was the surprize that the confession of Wolf had thrown her in by the avowel of his imprudent passion for the Lady Agatha, that Jessy was actually in want of composure herself, though determined not to let this opportunity which was afforded to her, by being alone with Wolf, pass without giving him a necessary caution against cherishing so improper an attachment for the lovely wife of Lord

Montague Montault, and addressed him in the follow

ing manner:

;

"Wolf, it is fortunate for you, that the object on whom you have so imprudently and rashly placed your affections, is unconscious of the passion with which she has inspired you." To which Wolf replied―

"It may be imprudent, but you cannot call it rash, because I have loved her even when I was a boy, unconscious by what name to distinguish the sentiments I felt towards her; it sprung in my heart spontane ously, and that heart has bled for her ever since. It was a guiltless feeling; I cannot describe its sensation, still it was one of the most delightful I had ever experienced. It did not deprive me of rest, for in my dreams it accompanied me in the form of Agatha Singleton. When I read in any books that described the beauty and the innocence of angels, faultless as they were fair, I had Agatha Singleton immediately before me. There was not either an animate object, or inanimate one that was lovely to look upon, that did not remind me of her. When I have smelt to the fragrance of the fresh new-blown flowers in the early morning, I thought they were as sweet as Agatha Singleton; when I listened to the melody of the tune, ful nightingale, I imagined it was the silver-toned voice of Agatha Singleton. The moon, the stars, the glorious sun, all the bright firmament of the shining heavens, associated with some beautiful thought inspired by the deep glow of love, I felt for Agatha Singleton; and when at night I addressed the Deity of all created universe, one gentle prayer alone re