hinted, though very slightly, at her increased indisposition, which still kept them at Naples.

Hubert was changed,-no indecision now; there was command in his look, in his voice, as he hastened the preparations for starting, without a minute's unnecessary delay. And never did Laurette forget, that not one word of farewell was left for her, not one evidence that she was even remembered; there was no room for her, the heart, the thoughts, were filled by the image of another.

And now, Heaven grant that he may find quick passage across the water; he does; night and day, night and day, the then fatiguing journey was pursued. His servant gave up at Florence: but with Hubert it was on, on, stop not; nor did he, till he reached Naples-reached the Palazzo of the Duca. A horrible foreboding of ill had forbidden him the rest another might have found; he was helped out by the servants, who quickly summoned the Duca, for he had fainted.

His first word on recovering was "Beatrice ?"

"Is very ill," was the sorrowful reply; "but your arrival, which she has so pined for, will be a restorative."

"Infinite mercy now be praised!" said Hubert, who was with difficulty persuaded to take

much-needed rest and refreshment, before he saw her. And when he did-merciful powers! can it be is this to be the end? for his quick eye, which had last seen her in comparative health, perceived a change-and oh! such a change!

He pressed her to his heart-he kissed her flushed cheek, now painted by that insidious enemy, which also sent the sparkle to her beautiful eyes, and gave her a treacherous and deceptive strength. With anguish that cannot be told, Hubert read it all-his love rendered him only more cognizant of the truthand he had then won her, but to lose her! and his heart seemed breaking, as it echoed back his last words.

Ah! how he cursed the delay, that had deprived him of all those precious, precious hours he might have spent in watching and caring for her how he execrated those prejudices, which, by prolonging his absence, had, perhaps, increased the danger, and needlessly pained her by anxiety.

After this meeting, he sought the Duca; and though it was with difficulty he brought himself to give words to his fears, the very imminence of the danger made him desperate. He named his wish for further advice, for the father seemed not yet sensible of the truth.

And when fresh opinions corroborated Hubert's dread, even then he could not, would not, believe such misery was awaiting him; and, as day by day brought its false but flattering fluctuations, he would appeal to Hubert, and ask him, if eyes so bright, if a face so animated could have the icy touch of death so near?

But Hubert, hopeless and heart-broken, did not share in his disbelief-every day some fresh symptom alarmed him—for the remembrance that the mother of Beatrice was an English lady, and had died young, filled him with the most agonizing fears.

About ten days after his return, he was with her, listening to her expressions of pleasure at again seeing him, after her anxiety during his absence :-" But that is past—and you are here once more--not soon again to leave us."

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"My beautiful! my own!" he murmured, we part no more;" but as he said so, he shuddered to think, no voice from his heart repeated his words-while the ravages of disease, on that loved form, were more than ever perceptible.

Beatrice fondly laid her head on his bosom, saying: "Thanks, dear Hubert, for that as

surance, for you cannot, after this, again leave

me."

Never, never, my beloved!" again kissing her fair brow; and, as if worn out with fatigue, she soon fell asleep with his arm round her, and his face, to her so glorious in its beauty, bent over her, and his loving eyes watching her—and so, she died !

CHAPTER XVII.

"And therefore is Love said to be a child, Because, in choice, he is so oft beguiled." Shakspeare.

As days changed to weeks, and still no reply came from Hubert, Mrs. Templeton found it difficult to adhere to her resolution, that they would not talk of the matter, especially as she saw that Constance was looking anxious and harassed. She was restless before the arrival of the post, and evidently depressed and disappointed afterwards—though nothing could be more unwearied than her efforts to hide this from her mother.

Stacey had not yet recovered from the intoxicating effects of his one-volume great success-or, as Mr. Moore patiently remarked, had not yet got to the end of his tether; and though this sudden falling off had greatly disappointed him, as he was really much interested in the completion of the memoirs, he good-naturedly hoped that Stacey, of whose