mentioned personage, which hopped towards me with a very hostile appearance, and entered the threshold with a more rapid step, in consequence of sundry apprehensions of a premeditated assault.

"I understand," said I, to an old, dried, brown female, who looked like a resuscitated red-herring, "that a gentleman is lodging here.”

"No, Sir," was the answer. "He left us this morning."

The reply came upon me like a shower-bath; I was both chilled and stunned by so unexpected a shock. The old woman, on my renewing my inquiries, took me up stairs, to a small, wretched room, to which the damps literally clung. In one corner was a flock-bed, still unmade, and opposite to it, a three-legged stool, a chair, and an antique carved oak table, a donation perhaps from some squire in the neighbourhood; on this were scattered fragments of writing paper, a cracked cup, half full of ink, a pen, and a broken ramrod. As I mechanically took up the latter, the woman said, in a charming patois, which I shall translate, since I cannot do justice to the original,

"The gentleman,

Sir, said he came here for a few weeks to shoot; he brought a gun, a large dog, and a small portmanteau. He used to spend all the mornings in the fens, though he must have been but a poor shot, for he seldom brought home anything; and we fear, Sir, that he was rather out of his mind, for he used to go out alone at night, and stay sometimes till morning. However, he was quite quiet, and behaved to us like a gentleman; so it was no business of ours, only my husband does think

"Pray," interrupted I, "why did he leave you so suddenly ?"

"Lord, Sir, I don't know! but he told us for several days past that he should not stay over the week, and so we were not surprised when he left us this morning at seven o'clock. Poor gentleman, my heart bled for him when I saw him look so pale and ill."

And here I did see the good woman's eyes fill with tears: but she wiped them away, and took advantage of the additional persuasion they gave to her natural whine, to say, "If, Sir, you know of

any young gentleman who likes fen-shooting, and wants a nice, pretty, quiet apartment—”

"I will certainly recommend this," said I.

"You see it at present," rejoined the landlady, "quite in a litter like: but it is really a sweet place in summer."

66

Charming,” said I, with a cold shiver, hurrying down the stairs, with a pain in my ear, and the rheumatism in my shoulder.

"And this," thought I, "was Glanville's residence for nearly a month! I wonder he did not exhale into a vapour, or moisten into a green damp."

I went home by the churchyard. I paused on the spot where I had last seen him. A small grave-stone rose over the mound of earth on which he had thrown himself; it was perfectly simple. The date of the year and month (which showed that many weeks had not elapsed since the death of the deceased) and the initials G. D. were all that was engraven upon the stone. Beside this tomb was one of a more pompous description, to the memory of a Mrs. Douglas, which had with the simple tumulus, nothing in common, unless the

initial letter of the surname corresponding with latter initial on the neighbouring gravestone, mig authorize any connection between them, not su ported by that similitude of style usually found the cenotaphs of the same family; the one, indee might have covered the grave of a humble villag -the other, the resting-place of the lady of th

manor.

I found, therefore, no clue for the labyrinth surmise and I went home, more vexed and di appointed with my day's expedition than I liked t acknowledge to myself.

Lord Vincent met me in the hall.

"Delighted

twang

to see you," said he, "I have just been to (the nearest town) in order to discover what sort o savages abide there. Great preparations for a bal -all the tallow candles in the town are bespokenand I heard a most uncivilized fiddle, short and sharp, like the shrill swallow's cry.' The one milliner's shop was full of fat squiresses, buying muslin ammunition, to make the ball go off; and the attics, even at four o'clock, were thronged with rubicund damsels, who were already, as Shakspeare says of waves in a storm,

“Curling their monstrous heads.'”

CHAPTER VIII.

Jusqu'au revoir le ciel vous tienne tous en joie.

MOLIERE.

I was now pretty well tired of Garrett Park. Lady Roseville was going to H-t―d, where I also had an invitation. Lord Vincent meditated an excursion to Paris. Mr. Davison had already departed. Miss Trafford had been gone, God knows how long, and I was not at all disposed to be left, like "the last rose of summer," in single blessedness at Garrett Park. Vincent, Wormwood, and myself, all agreed to leave on the same day.

We

The morning of our departure arrived. sat down to breakfast as usual. Lord Vincent's carriage was at the door; his groom was walking about his favourite saddle horse.

"A beautiful mare that is of your's," said I,