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to live-and I, I was cruel to her-that's "• Wretch ! did you leave her to perish the curse on me!'

in the snow?' 6. What was your daughter's name?- " " Wretch in your own teeth !' retorted where lived she?'

the wretched woman, her dormant nature 66 • Elizabeth.'

now roused — did I say such a thing ? I ". Ha !' Something struck the mind of lay on our earth floor that she might lie her now trembling interrogator, which al- on the one bedstick I had, and all I could lowed but this interjection, and instantly get her I got; but I had planned what to plunged him into dumb deepest reverie. do with the brat ere it came. His heart began to palpitate most violent- a time did your poor wife (if you be the ly, a dizzy whirling of a moment seized his man) come to consult me, the 'cunning brain, his very knees knocked together : woman' as they called me, about her missome fatal past, known only to himself, fortune, as she called it-in not having was presented, like a phantasma which family like other wives, and asking about some evil worker, or that human ruin her- charms' and the like lies and vanities, to self, as a demoniac sorceress, conjured up make an alteration, and she was for ever to stand like his own black death-scaffold fancying herself in the way to be happy, before his mind's eye. Conscience took and she'd cry and say she knew her husthe alarm, and all was dismal as death and band would soon cease loving her unlessthe judgment itself shadowing his soul could Margery Foulke is your certain name, make it, in that pause. Suddenly he isn't it?' asked Paull again, inattentive to burst forth · Elizabeth Foulke! Your her words. name's Foulke? Betsy Foulke. I thank

"• Aye, aye, poor old Madge Foulke's God!' But she was muttering in her stu

my name.

So she'd cry, and when the pidity of exhaustion after such a rage, long man was off, how she did take on, because unawakened, though never dead, and he'd come and find no hope of a little one! noticed not his words.

-Now when my poor child was in that " " Yet who could not be cruel ? She, way, to her sorrow and mine- I bethought my only help, came home crying, blushing, me what it was to be rich, and what a pity hiding her head, poor creature ! and in- it wasn't that foolish wife that was pregstead of helping me, must have help—I nant, in place of my one poor lamb of my was old, old then ! If that had been all ! bosom. And it was I did put the thing in But she came to shame me, to bear a her head, and I did scheme every thing, bastard to call me Granny, to be dragged and I'll say so to the man her husband up through years of our poor helpless selves if he were

ver to come back at last. I'm only, and never a father to 't. For never afeard of nothing alive and nothing dead ! would the poor ruined creature tell me And did somebody say he did come back? who was its father, and she never told ! Did I dream you are the very man, I see 'Twas enough to make me cruel, make me so dim through a fog there of my old eyes, mad, wasn't it? The soft creature that blind of smoke, and tears too in their did never know will but mine before, to time? To be sure ! who else was I talkrefuse to tell, when it was what would bave taken the charge off me, and got the " " Where died she, this unhappy Elizalittle torment a man's protection ? But beth Foulke ?' Paull now asked, who had she was always shamefaced, dear child ! not ceased to tremble during this burst of and it's my belief it was some married her long-pent burthens of memory. man was the dog-all the plagues of hell “ • Betsy Oliver ! that was her namefollow him! But she said it were no good Betsy the BEAUTY! God help our prides, to tell, for he would never be seen more- poor idiots ! proud I was once of that name she should never see him more! and then –proud of her that was to be my shame. she fell into 'sterics. • Curse him !' said I've had two husbands, man, but never a 1,' who brought this upon two lone wo- babe of my body but her, and some villain men !' and I'd have her said Amen! but I unknown made me curse myself that I had won't, mother, if I die !' she said. “Out with not been barren, as that woman. ye, then, into the snow, with that harlot « • No more !' Paull cried out in a voice shape, and lye-in there,' God pardon me! of desperation, ‘I won't hear any more! I've said, and she'd sit crying outside our - Ruth is my daughter! Heaven! Heaven! threshold — Will ye tell, to come in ? why have you avenged the wrong of the Will ye curse him, to come in, out of the mother, through such an instrument ? sleet and snow?'-'I can't, mother ! and Why none but my own child ?' the sooner it freezes me to the heart the better ! - only for my poor unborn

Wild involution of crime with mi. thing's sake, let me in, mother !' So we

But we must hurry on to went on! So we went on !'

the catastrophe. Ruth falls into the

ing to ?'

sery !

hands of William Paull's associates, daughter—that the contrary opinion the chief of whom, one Shakerly, had proved to be a mistake and he à desperate villain, had purposed to left it to his paternál kindness to imcarry her off for himself, and had a

press that certain fact on the mind of boat with a crew ready to row him his long mistaken child—and to rewith his prey out to sea. Marmaduke, concile her to a speedy marriage with not far from the place where this dia- her cousin—for “what protector has bolical rape was to be committed, had she else?”—“My dear neighbour, has flung himself down, after his visit to she not you, her father?" He but shrugthe hovel, in a hollow of the “ Marsh ged his shoulders, and smiled dismalof the Monks,” and close by a small ly, and was silent.” rushy pool was lying asleep_but in Ruth needed an hour or two's sleep; convulsions—when he was disturbed and as she was retiring to a chamber by the footsteps of William Paull. in the lowly parsonage, Paull called her Starting to his feet, not from being back, kissed her, and gave her his awakened, but in some frightful blessing, in a solemn, new, and mysdream, for his words were part of one, terious manner, but with such socththough his eyelids were uplifted, and ing tenderness, that she suspected no his eyes stared wildly, he exclaimed, evil—and lovingly entreated him to “ How long have you been watching go to rest. ine asleep? Dreams are nature's, During the supposed sleep of Ruth, not ours. How dare you, sir, pry in- Paull had a long and affecting converto my brain and heart, when exhausted satien with the Pastor ; he saw Wilnature—wliat have I been saying ? liam too, and to him, as her husband, Where's she? Have patience, boy!” and to that benignant man, as second His nephew having soothed him as father, he committed Rutlı, during his well as he could, Ruth became the absence, for he was about, he told subject of their speech. Paull had hem, to take a journey.

t resolved to drop in eternal oblivion his last discovery, and let the fact stand

“ It was already twilight when a shepsimply, that he was the real father,

herd of the promontory came running in, without the fruitless avowal, to Wil

without stopping to knock, and sought the

vicar through private rooms, in his eagerliam at least, of the fate of the mother,

ness to tell that he had seen Paull the So he implored his nephew without

blind man stealing under the high rocks of delay to make Ruth his wife ; but

Llandudno, there rising like a wall to the William, though altogether igno- height of the highest cathedral, the searant of Ruth's fatal passion, had for

ward butresses of the dreadful Orme's Head, some time been convinced that her

although it was a spring tide, the sea heart was not his, and must have

running in, and the passage obliterated at been given to another, though to high tide, and always without an exit, exwhom he could not conjecture, and tept into those deep watery caves, worn with proper pride, and a feeling bet- by the action of the sea. ter than pride, resigned all claim to “ No time was to be lost-strange her, and had only to pray that she doubts of his design whitened the cheek might be happy. He had repented of of the religious man, who had become his plan to seize her person, and be- deeply interested in the fates of the father lieved she was safe under the protec- and daughter, but he imposed silence on tion of Mr Llewellyn, and had no sus

his household, to avoid terrifying the poor picion of Shakerly's projected out

we? ried and still sleeping girl : but except rage. At that moment Ruth comes

Kitty, who stayed in doors, all were quickflying with torn garments, pursued by ly at the near end or aperture of the aveShakerly and his gang, and Marma

No storm threatened, but a great duke in his blindness assisting Wil

swell of the sea, and its advance with all

the force of a spring-tide, aided by some liam in the rescue, the ravishers are

wind blowing on shore, had in itself all overpowered ; and the Three Friends

the terrors if not the uproar of a storm, take their way to the parsonage. and the deadliness of a hundred storms, There Marmaduke, “ with a sort of

on such a shore. Woe to whatever, exsunkenness of spirit and heart as well isting by breath, should be caught in that as voice," in making his strange dis- lessening prison, walled beyond the cunclosure to the clergyman, confined ning of any architect or tyrant that ever himself to briefly assuring him that contrived a dungeon or a tower! The after all Ruth was his own undoubted vicar would not be restrained from adyan


cing a long way into that impassable gorge Thus, in this quiet little green nook of of cliff and ocean, now slinging its long country (under a moon now come forth breadth of froth, nearer and nearer, high refulgent, so calm, so safe-looking !) some in air, like a mighty beast, secure in his were hunting for the corpse of its most mightiness, -advancing in measured pace lovely native-born, with many tears; others tossing his wrath's foam. The rest, Wil. were trying to drive a heavy boat down the liam, the shepherd, and one other person, rough beach stones, with noisy but zeafollowed him to the furthest extent possi- lous dint of strength; and others perible with safety; all then joined in one long lously peering over craggy edges of cliff, shout to the unseen adventurous man, but that listed them to a level, in their eye, the sea was too loud, with its fresh breeze, with the tremendous Penmanmaur, seen and its furiously running tide, to allow dusky in moonlight shade, just across the hope of their being heard. Nothing an- bay; and two already fixing ropes (used swered but rock birds, cormorants, and in taking puffin's eggs) in two or three puffins, that came flying out overhead with parts, to suspend themselves, even over their shrill clangour of many notes; yet that brink, and down those terrible and did that long, hopeless shout of the hu- sharp-jutting walls, worse than smooth inan—and tbat following wild discord of perpendicular—all was distress, dismay, the sea-birds' voices, seem less disınal and a tragedy in act or expectation, where than the succeeding and last-the su- all had been peace and a fine sunset and perhuman, solitary, immense voice of the happy cottages, so lately. deep, when considered as the trump of its “ A cloudless moon, and brilliant eveninvading march—the dead march of the ing sky, burnished, as it seemed, by the towering waves closing in on a single hu- fresh sweeping of the breeze across its man being, certainly somewhere in the deep blue and all its stars, now gave to jaws of that destruction ! The silence, the eye of the man daringly descending and that solemn sound dreadful as the si- by the rope, the whole bird's-eye view of lence, and the lengthened desolate per- the now very narrow beach below. He spective, dwindling to what seemed a mere saw it already washed over by every dash ledge already, of the rock-strewn beach, of the broad sea-sweep, the light snowy lost in the tossing and leaping white of foam-shower (a treacherous beauty, glitsurf, this dire perspective, that low thun- tering in the moonsliine, lovely yet so der of sound, that death-silence of the deadly), quite shutting the black conspipause, all struck funereal horror on every cuous stones below from his eye, as if sense of every one of the party now stop- overarching whatever was below of life, ping baffled, thus unanswered except by though this as yet was but an illusion of wild creatures and wild waves—compelled the sight, for some little of even the lower to turn, and hurry for their own lives, yet sandy smooth part of the strand was yet certain that a devoted life must there be visible on each retirement of the sea. left behind.

“ A general cry rose now among those William had recovered enough to rejoin behind, on the top—the man suspended those who had reached the top ridges of laving shouted up to the man minding the headland overlooking the beach ; that rope, and he to Nir Llewellyn, who was dreadful prison in which Marmaduke had on his knees scrambling to look over, and immured himself to meet death, with a to the rest--that he could see Marmaduke steady eye and stern welcome, on its distinctly. frightful slowness of advance, bringing his 66 • Cry to him !' was the general voice. watery shroud to the living man, in the . Can you let down another rope ? What's hear and nearer surf-foam, and his only he doing?' dirge in the measured thunder-peal of " "Not another rope, nor ten on end every falling wave.

would reach him! He waves his hand to The lone extent of his death-vault was us slowly, and he walks quite calm, just however so great, that it was merely at stepping back and back a little from the random they could fix on any spot of the surf: the horridest part of the cliff too, long range of precipice, over the brink of he's under! It's a sheer wall, I know it which the bolder might halloo down, or well, forty fathoms high over his head; the bolder still, such as the samphire-ga- that's all he has to step back to! Only a therer (turned shepherd) might make an cavern there is, and that's shallow; not experimental descent from, perhaps so ten minutes' life will that give him ! far down as to reach the determined sui- I've cried to him, again, but I hear no cide with the voice. Yet this could do voice answer.' little, as it would be too late for him to “ ' I've caught birds many a fathom regain the entrance of his dire watery deep, myself,' William exclaimed. • Let cloister, and impossible to scale perpendi- me try that other rope, and get down to

you!' he hallowed down,

cular crags.

“ “ It's quite useless !'

dumb and helpless. The two men con** Another still more agitated outcrytinued their colloquy, the group above and stir now ran among the group, mixed sharing in the horror, and holding their with a most lamentable cry and groan from breaths to listen. The depth precluded the young man.

all possibility of help, and the closeness of “• I see somebody or something up- the whole sea would now not allow time right, come all along the beach, nurrow for a single maneuvre, had any been prac. beach 'tis now !' the man said to those ticable. above, and the man on the brink saw it • I heard a dreadful groan just now; too, so narrow that the surf-froth breaks hark! Now he's quieter, and she has sure over her, and drives her up on the very persuaded him to kneel—they are both foundation of the rough rock, off the sand, kneeling fronting the high wave, and as far quite!'

back as they can get, up to the rocks56 Her? how ! is it a woman?'

There was

a sea!

God have mercy ! “ God in Heaven knows what it is! They're gone-No!-but it must have a woman from the grave, I believe the struck them-I couldn't see them for the moon shines full upon her-ha! now he monstrous leap of the surf! I thought it cries to us—he cried out dreadfully then would have reached up to me almost -a melancholy long cry it was. 'Twas I see 'em again, now It's for her not to us he cried it was to her to that he groaned, and for her he ran so wildly, person ; now he's like a madman ! now for he was calm as a ghost, and stood like he's throwing his arms all about, and to an effigy wefore—Ha! that was a very the sky and to the sea ! Hark! he cried thunder !_Halloo! Shepherd ! do you out again ! now he has rushed to meet see 'em now ? d'ye see 'em still ? ' her, she's come up to him. They're em

Stop a moment-there's such a fog bracing ! Mercy upon us, and keep us, of the foam- There's nothing but sea ! sure it's a ghost! If ever I saw grave- nothing but deep sea ! The Lord have clothes in my life, that's a shroud it wears!

mercy upon their souls ! Look! look you, man ! look down all of “ • Amen ! Mr Llewellyn responded, ye, isn't it walking in a shroud ? Yes, it and throwing himself along, hid his face in is a shroud_but it is a living woman! the withered broom of the height. But the “ “ But who ? Is it not Ruth ? '

next minute he rose--and begging silence " Who can see that?'

-drew forth his pocket prayer-book, and “ ' Do you see them now?'

said_None knows certainly what was the "" "No, he's gone, after throwing his intent of these poor souls in coming hiarms round her, gone up the shore like ther. I at least will not judge them-but mad, carrying her, I think-yes, he flies as others may, I take this time - Man with her !

that is born of a woman,' &c., and falter" " He might as well try to lift her up ing, he went through the form of Christo us, or the moon, with his arms, as tian Burial of the Dead.” carry her to where she came in—that's “ The body of Marmaduke Paull and sure to be some deep fathom by this time, that of his ill-fated child, still in that ghastyou know, for all this here part is very ly dress which she had resolutely assumed hollow, quite a cove, here ; he'll meet to meet death with decency, deliberately deep sea directly.'

following him she had so often led, were * Ah! you're right, Shepherd, here found in close embrace in a hollow of a he comes back with her. Hark! Did ye little reef of rock, dry at low water, in hear ? “6 Death?” " Death ? ” God! whose wave-worn cleft, no broader than a God ! "

My child !" I heard him then! chest, they lay as in a single coffin formed Another seal - It's just over'em!'

for two bodies. So ended THE TRAGICAL “ William had again fainted, and re- PASSION OF MARMADUKE PAULL," mained in stupor on the heathy ground,

Printed by Ballantyne &Company, Paul's Work, Edinburgh.

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JAMES T. Price,





274 ib.




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