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THE LAMP FLICKERS.

pressive. It was full of her-the owner! There the harp, which so well became her muselike form that it was associated with her like a part of herself! There the pictures, fresh and glowing from her hand-the grace -the harmony-the classic and simple taste everywhere displayed!

Rosseau has left to us an immortal portrait of the lover waiting for the first embraces of his mistress. But to wait with a pulse as feverish, a brain as dizzy, for her last look; to await the moment of despair, not of rapture; to feel the slow and dull time as palpable a load upon the heart, yet to shrink from your own im. patience, and wish that the agony of suspense might endure for ever; this, oh, this is a picture of intense passion; of flesh and blood reality; of the rare and solemn epochs of our mysterious life; which had been worthier the genius of that "Apostle of Affliction !"

At length the door opened; the favourite attendant of Florence looked in.

"Is Mr. Maltravers there? Oh, sir, my lady is awake and would see you."

Maltravers rose, but his feet were glued to the ground; his sinking heart stood still; it was a mortal terror that possessed him. With a deep sigh he shook off the numbing spell, and passed to the bedside of Florence.

She sat up, propped by pillows, and, as he sank beside her, and clasped her wan, transparent hand, she looked at him with a smile of pitying love.

"You have been very, very kind to me," she said, after a pause, and with a voice which had altered even since the last time he heard it, "and you will be rewarded. You have made that part of life, from which human nature shrinks with dread, the happiest and the brightest of all my short and vain existence. My own adored Ernest-God bless you!"

A few grateful tears dropped from her eyes, and they fell on the hand which she bent her lips to kiss.

"It was not here; not amid streets and the noisy abodes of anxious, worldly men; nor was it in this harsh and dreary season of the year, that I could have wished to look my last on earth. Could I have seen the face of nature; could I have watched once more with the summer sun amid those gentle scenes we loved so well, death would have had no difference from sleep. But what matters it? With you there is summer and nature everywhere."

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Maltravers raised his face, and their eyes met in silence; it was a long, fixed gaze, which spoke more than all words could. Her head dropped on his shoulder, and there it lay, passive and motionless, for some moments. A soft step glided into the room-it was the unhappy father's. He came to the other side of his daughter, and sobbed convulsively.

She then raised herself, and even in the shades of death a faint blush passed over her cheek.

"My good, dear father, what comfort will it give you hereafter to think how fondly you spoiled your Florence!"

Lord Saxingham could not answer; he clasped her in his arms and wept over her. Then he broke away -looked on her with a shudder

"Oh God!" he cried, "she is dead-she is dead!"

Maltravers started, and waved aside the poor old man impatiently. The physician kindly approached, and, taking Lord Saxingham's hand, led him from the room; he went mute and obedient like a child.

But the struggle was not yet past. Florence once more opened her eyes, and Maltravers uttered a cry of joy. But along those eyes the film was darkening rapidly, as still, through the mist and shadow, they sought the beloved countenance which hung over her, as if to breathe life into waning life. Twice her lips moved, but her voice failed her; she shook her head sadly.

Maltravers hastily held to her mouth a cordial which lay ready on the table near her, but scarce had it moistened her lips when her whole frame grew heavier and heavier in his clasp. Her head once more sank upon his bosom; she twice gasped wildly for breath; and at length, raising her hand on high, life struggled into its expiring ray.

"There above !-Ernest-that name-Ernest!"

Yes, that name was the last she uttered; she was evidently conscious of that thought, for a smile, as her voice again faltered, a sweet smile and serene, that smile never seen but on the faces of the dying and the dead, borrowed from a light that is not of this world, settled slowly on her brow, her lips, her whole countenance; still she breathed, but the breath grew fainter; at length, without murmur, sound, or struggle, it passed away; the head dropped from his bosom-the form fell from his arms-all was over!

VOL. II.-R

194

MALTRAVERS THE AVENGER.

CHAPTER VII.

"Is this the promised end?"
Lear.

Ir was two hours after that scene before Maltravers left the house. It was then just on the stroke of the first hour of morning. To him, as he walked through the streets, and the sharp winds howled on his path, it was as if a strange and wizard life, a mechanical life, had passed into and supported him; a sort of drowsy, dull existence. He was like a sleep-walker, unconscious of all around him; yet his steps went safe and free; and the one thought that possessed his being, into which all intellect seemed shrunk-the thought, not fiery nor vehement, but calm, stern, and solemn-the thought of revenge, seemed, as it were, to have grown his soul itself. He arrived at the door of Colonel Danvers, mounted the stairs, and, as his friend advanced to meet him, said calmly, "Now, then, the hour has arrived.” "But what would you now?"

"Come with me, and you shall learn."

Very well, my carriage is below. Will you direct the servants?"

Maltravers nodded, gave his orders to the careless footman, and the two friends were soon driving through the less-known and courtly regions of the giant city. It was then that Maltravers concisely stated to Danvers the fraud that had been practised by Cæsarini.

66

'You will go with me now," concluded Maltravers, "to his house. To do him justice, he is no coward; he has not shrunk from giving me his address, nor will he shrink from the atonement I demand. I shall wait below while you arrange our meeting-at daybreak for to-morrow."

Danvers was astonished and even appalled by the discovery made to him. There was something so unusual and strange in the whole affair. But neither his experience nor his principles of honour could suggest any alternative to that proposed. He suppressed any objections he might form, and pressed his friend's hand.

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195

They sank into silence till the carriage stopped at a door in a narrow lane in an obscure suburb. Yet dark as all the houses around were, lights were seen in the upper windows of Cæsarini's residence, passing to and fro; and scarce had the servant's loud knock echoed through the dim thoroughfare ere the door was opened. Danvers descended and entered the passage—" Oh, sir, I am so glad you are come!" said an old woman, pale and trembling; he do take on so!"

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"There is no mistake," asked Danvers, halting; 66 Italian gentleman named Cæsarini lodges here?"

an

"Yes, sir, poor cretur-I sent for you to come to him -for says I to my boy, says I—”

"Whom do you take me for ?"

Why, la, sir, you be's the doctor, ben't you?"

Danvers made no reply; he had a mean opinion of the courage of one who could act dishonourably; he thought there was some design to cheat his friend out of his revenge; accordingly, he ascended the stairs, motioning the woman to precede him.

He came back to the door of the carriage in a few minutes. "Let us go home, Maltravers," said he; "this man is not in a state to meet you."

"Ha!" cried Maltravers, frowning darkly, and all his long-smothered indignation rushing like fire through every vein of his body; "would he shrink from the atonement?" He pushed Danvers impatiently aside, leaped from the carriage, and rushed up stairs.

Danvers followed.

Heated, wrought up, furious, Ernest Maltravers burst into a small and squalid chamber; from the closed doors of which, through many chinks, had gleamed the light that told him Cæsarini was within. And Cæsarini's eyes, blazing with horrible fire, were the first object that met his gaze. Maltravers stood still as if frozen into stone.

"Ha! ha!" laughed a shrill and shrieking voice, which contrasted dreadly with the accents of the soft Tuscan in which the wild words were strung-"who comes there with garments rolled in blood? You cannot accuse me, for my blow drew no blood; it went straight to the heart; it tore no flesh by the way; we Italians poison our victims! Where art thou, where art thou, Maltravers? I am ready. Coward, you do not come. Oh, yes, yes, here you are; the pistols-I will not fight

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GOD THE AVENGER.

So. I am a wild beast. Let us rend each other with our teeth and talons."

Huddled up like a heap of confused and jointless limbs, in the farthest corner of the room lay the wretch, a raving maniac; two men keeping their firm gripe on him, which, ever and anon, with the mighty strength of madness, he shook off, to fall back senseless and exhausted; his strained and bloodshot eyes starting from their sockets, the slaver gathering round his lips, his raven hair standing on end, his delicate and symmetrical features distorted into a hideous and gorgon aspect. It was, indeed, an appalling and sublime spectacle, full of an awful moral, the meeting of the foes! Here stood Maltravers, strong beyond the common strength of men, in health, power, conscious superiority, premeditated vengeance, wise, gifted; all his faculties ripe, developed at his command; the complete and all-armed man, prepared for defence and offence against every foe; a man who, once roused in a righteous quarrel, would not have quailed before an army; and there and thus was his dark and fierce purpose dashed from his soul, shivered into atoms at his feet. He felt the nothingness of man and man's wrath in the presence of the madman on whose head the thunderbolts of a greater curse than human anger ever breathes had fallen. In his horrible affliction the criminal triumphed over the avenger!

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Yes, yes!" shouted Cæsarini again; "they tell me she is dying, but he is by her side; pluck him thence -he shall not touch her hand-she shall not bless him -she is mine; if I killed her, I have saved her from him ; she is mine in death. Let me in, I say; I will come in; I will, I will see her, and strangle him at her feet." With that, by a tremendous effort, he tore himself from the clutch of his holders, and with a sudden and exultant bound he sprang across the room, and stood face to face to Maltravers. The proud brave man turned pale and recoiled a step. "It is he, it is he!" shrieked the maniac, and he leaped like a tiger at the throat of his rival. Maltravers quickly seized his arm, and whirled him round, and he fell heavily on the floor, mute, senseless, and in strong convulsions.

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Mysterious Providence," murmured Maltravers, "thou hast justly rebuked the mortal for dreaming he might arrogate to himself thy privilege of vengeance. Forgive the sinner, oh God, as I do, as thou teachest