Jorton bowed, and they separated. No sooner had their forms disappeared, than a peasant sprang from some trees at the side of the walk, and, after standing irresolute for a moment, ran with great swiftness from the spot. He did not slacken his pace till he reached a small, neat cottage. On a rustic scat at the rosewreathed porch sat a young and pretty maiden, with bright blue eyes, soft fair hair, and a gracefully rounded form. She was busily employed sewing, and did not perceive the young man till panting he stood beside her. Then, as she looked up, the quick blush rose to her cheek; but it instantly faded to paleness as she perceived the distress which his countenance expressed.

"What is the matter, George? What has happened?" she anxiously inquired.

"Oh, dear Rose, such a tale as I have to tell you!" exclaimed he, throwing himself on the seat beside her; "such a tale! and I have come to consult with you what is best to be done; but there is no time to lose. I went this morning to regulate his little garden for old Jacob Flock, the lame carpenter, and as I was returning I passed by the elm walk in Linstead Park, Sir Arthur and his favourite servant were walking inside; and as they were going the same direction with me, the hedge only dividing us, I heard them mention Lady Julia St. Roeben's name, and presently, from something they said, I thought it better to listen." He then proceeded to relate the entire of that conversation which Sir Arthur had held with his confidant.

"And now, dear Rose," he added; "now, dear Rose, what shall we do? I know how you love Lady Julia, and your advice is always wise."

"This is indeed a dreadful plot," she said, throwing aside her work and starting up; then placing a pretty finger on her lip, she mused for a moment. "We must set about baulking the villains at once, as they are to make the attempt to-night," she said; "I will myself instantly set off to the cluster to warn Lady Julia of her danger. I fear she may be there already, as I know every fine evening she sits reading on that spot."

"Do not go yourself! oh, do not, Rose!" said her lover. There may be danger, indeed there may; let me go."

"Do you fancy, George," replied Rose Grey, "do you fancy that I think of danger when going to serve sweet Lady Juliaher whose kindness to us all we can never repay? And then, I may reach the spot before there is any danger to be feared; and you, George, must go for the like purpose to meet Mr. Forrests, There is a short way from this to Sorley Villa, that joins the long one before it reaches that ruined tower. Go as quickly as possible to that point, watch there for the young gentleman, and, when you meet him, guide him by the short road to the cluster, and you will then know how matters have gone on. How I wish," she

continued, "that my brother were at home to go with you; but may God be your protection. I will run in for one moment to tell my mother not to expect me back for a little tine;" and she stepped over the threshold.

"May God bless and protect you from all harm, Rose dear, said her lover when she again appeared, imprinting a kiss of the purest affection on the lips of his promised bride. "I am very uneasy on your account; and only that I don't know what might happen if we delayed, I should not let you go alone."

"Don't fear for me," replied Rose; "I have a sure Friend above." And, pointing to heaven, she set off on her mission with speed.

In the meantime Lady Julia, ignorant of the impending evil, was spending a delightful evening with her friend, Lady Charlotte Hinton, who the previous day had returned from the continent, and the young heiress was pouring into her attentive ear her joys and sorrows, her hopes and fears. They had wandered out, and Julia led her faithful and sympathizing friend to her favourite resort-the cluster of trees. They had scarcely sat on one of the numerous mossy seats which were erected through this beautiful retreat, when, pale with anxiety, and breathless with haste, Rose Grey rushed into the enclosure, and sank at Lady Julia's feet.

"Oh! come away, come away, my lady!" she implored; "there is danger in being here; men lie in wait, or will do so, to carry you off. Oh! hasten away!"

"What do you mean, Rose?" said the lady she addressed, calmly, yet not without a fear that the pale, panting girl before her was deranged.

"There is no time for explanation," she exclaimed, hurriedly; "but, oh! my dearest lady, if you do not make haste in leaving this, Sir Arthur Linstead and his men will be upon you."

Lady Julia sprang up at that name, and caught Lady Charlotte's arm, who had hitherto been too much astonished to interfere.

"I am convinced there is danger," she now said. “Julia, let us leave this at once."

But scarcely had the words escaped her lips, when a voice near them exclaimed, "Here she is!" and, springing from the thickets, four or five men rushed on the helpless females.

"I will secure Lady Julia; gag the others and tie them to trees," cried the voice of Sir Arthur Linstead; and he caught up the poor girl, whom agony and despair had rendered almost sense

less.

He made his way, holding the now lifeless form in his arms, to the place in which two or three horses were concealed; but just as he was raising his victim to his own beautiful steed, he heard a

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loud trampling, and, looking in the direction from which it proceeded, perceived Montley Forrests, his horse covered with foam, spurring furiously towards him. The guilty villain trembled at sight of one whom he thought his minion had, ere this, rendered incapable of interfering, and he stood as if chained to the spot.

"You are baffled, villain, you are baffled,” cried the youth, as he flung himself from his reeking charger; "lay down the lady, scoundrel; draw and defend yourself;" and he unsheathed his sword.

The form of Lady Julia slid from the unnerved arms of Sir Arthur; but his horrified gaze was still rivetted on what he considered an apparition.

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Do you refuse to draw?" shouted Montley. "Coward!" and with his sword he struck the baronet smartly on the shoulder. He appeared electrified by that touch; his keen eyes flashed, and the blood rushed for a moment to his sallow cheek.

"Hah! this is no spirit," he exclaimed; and drawing bis weapon, he attacked Forrests fiercely.

In the meanwhile Rose Grey had contrived to escape from her captors, and, making her way with lightning rapidity to the castle, gave the alarm. Lord St. Roeben, followed by a few domestics, the only persons within call at the time, proceeded immediately to the rescue; but ere they had advanced ten paces, George Melling, whom the fleet horse of Montley had left behind, met them and joined the party. They reached the cluster just at the moment when Forrests' strength was almost overpowered; for, having been attacked at all points by Sir Arthur and his minions, the brave youth was nearly mastered by numbers. They were now, however, compelled to turn and defend themselves; and George Melling having released Lady Charlotte Hinton from the tree to which the ruffians had bound her, she and Rose united their efforts in restoring Lady Julia from her swoon.

The instant that Lord St. Roeben appeared, Jorton, Sir Arthur's servant, sprang like a tiger upon him. The attack was so sudden and so unexpected, that the man had dragged him a Yshort distance away ere he had time to recover himself. Not a hundred feet removed from the cluster, was a wild chaos of lofty, jagged, and precipitous rocks, and those bordered, for almost a smile, a deep and rapid river. To the verge of this frightful precipice was Jorton endeavouring to drag Lord St. Roeben; but by this time the latter's presence of mind was restored, and he dexerted all his strength in striving to shake off his antagonist's grasp. This, however, he found it was no easy task to accomplish; and almost imperceptibly, step by step, they neared the verge e of the beetling cliff. It now became evident that the man's bdesign was to hurl the nobleman into the dark waters beneath but he, actuated by the impending danger, put forth all his strength, and succeeded in shaking off the deadly embrace. Again

;

did the man bound upon him, but not till the other had had space to draw his sword.

"Murderer!" shouted Jorton, dashing the slouched hat from his own brows; "murderer! dost thou remember the gallant youth whom thy tyranny had caused to be flogged to death? I am his mother!"

The cheek of Lord St. Roeben paled, and his limbs trembled like an aspen leaf, as he recognised in the being before him the parent of his hapless victim.

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"My hour of vengeance is at last come!" she cried, wrenching, by a sudden effort, the sword from his enervated grasp, and whirling it into the boiling surge. Dog! thou must die! Unknown to thyself thou hast often escaped my avenging hand; but now thine hour is come. I have lived for this alone."

During this time Lord St. Roeben had regained his self-pos session, and again they are struggling like maniacs on the verge of that frightful precipice. Is it not a fearful sight? The female is actuated by the strongest feelings that ever burned in a woman's or a mortal's breast. See how her eye flames-see with what deadly hatred it is fixed upon him! And he, the guilty one, though the ashy paleness has scarcely yet left his cheek, and a visible quiver rests upon his lip, laughs away his fears, for now is he aware that his antagonist is only a woman. Her strength is already beginning to fail; her desperate efforts to hurl him from the cliff are fruitless; she strains every muscle to accomplish her revenge; the veins on her brow-and temples appear bursting, but all is unavailing; she will soon be in the nobleman's power, and herself will probably fill the grave she had destined for him. But Lord St. Roeben's foot slips-they fall-they struggle on-they are now at the very verge-they-they roll over! A loud, wild shriek of delight issues from the Gipsy's lips as she sinks with her hated foe into the sable waters beneath!

.: When Sir Arthur Linstead's men were attacked by those who accompanied Lord St. Roeben, Montley Forrests, released from the united attacks of so many, continued to fight with the baronet. The tender assiduities of Lady Charlotte Hinton and Rose Grey had restored Lady Julia to consciousness; but their efforts could scarcely restrain her from throwing herself between the combatants. At length Sir Arthur was disarmed, and thrown to the tiground.

Implore your life, villain!" cried Montley Forrests, a foot on his chest; "implore your life, or this sword shall be sullied with the blood of your base and ruffian heart!"

3: Strike!" said the prostrate wretch; " but if I cannot, you at least shall never possess her;" and before Montley could interfere he had drawn a pistol, hitherto concealed, from his side, presented it at Lady Julia, and fired.

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With a long, mournful scream the maiden fell bleeding to the ground. At that sight her lover grew sick and dizzy; and, taking advantage of his agitation, the ruffian who had perpetrated the deed regained his feet, and escaped amongst the neighbouring trees. Unconscious of all, save the melancholy condition of her whom he adored, Montley rushed to the spot where lay the unfortunate lady. Her head was supported by Lady Charlotte, the dark eyes closed, and the cheek and lip as pale as marble; whilst Rose Grey vainly endeavoured to stanch the crimson flood that was welling from her side. The lover gazed in heart-breaking agony on the wreck of all his cherished hopes, and, putting aside the trembling hands of Rose, strove to repress the fastly-ebbing tide of life.

"Oh! Julia, Julia, Julia!" he distractedly cried, "look once more upon me; live, dearest, live for my sake!"

She faintly unclosed her eyes, and they beamed upon him with undiminished affection.

"It is in vain, dearest Montley," she murmured, seeing him redouble his exertions to stanch the wound; "this is my heart's blood. I would-I would I had lived for your sake; but all is

over now."

"Julia, Julia, do not speak thus, or you will drive me to madness," cried her lover. "Oh, God! oh, God! to think of losing you thus, and by that villain's hand! But I will be revenged-I will be revenged."

"Stain not your hands with his blood," said Lady Julia, faintly. "Leave vengeance to Him to whom vengeance belongs." The last word had scarcely left her lips, when the whole group was startled by a wild, shrill scream, and Mrs. Felton stood before them the very personification of sorrow.

"Tis come to pass at last," she cried. "What the Gipsy foretold is fulfilled. I shall be alone now, indeed, in the wide world. My child! my beautiful child!" and she threw herself madly at Lady Julia's side.

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"Do not weep, Felton," whispered the dying girl, “I cannot bear to see you weep. And you, Charlotte, dearest Charlotte, think sometimes of the friend who loved you so dearly, so truly. May you be happy, my kind Rose, happy as you deserve to be. But you, Montley, best beloved of my heart and soul," and by a sudden effort she raised her head from Lady Charlotte's breast and tenderly clasped his hand; but she would have fallen again had not the despairing lover passed his arm around her waist, and she sank exhausted on his shoulder. "Dearest," she said, after a pause, "dearest, be reconciled; do not forget me; think of me as one from whom, perhaps, it was best to be parted. You have suffered much for my sake; had I lived you might have suffered more. Beloved, farewell! Comfort my father, he will now alone."