reception of his inquiry. They were calm and open, and now his gaze was returned as boldly and sternly as it was given. "We are not," replied he, in a clear and fearless voice. "Beware of my enmity."

"Beware rather of mine," returned Andeli, "and know that for the cause in which I am pledged, I fear not the interruption of one so foul as the murderer of Maria Serle."

Andeli thought rightly, that the memory of that deed would move bis enemy from his purpose. It touched a chord long dormant, and thrilled upon every fibre of his frame. He attempted to smother the feeling, which only rendered it more intense. Conscience could not be stilled. It was like a stream whose waters have been stopped in their course, and which, on finding an outlet, rush impetuously forth, with a loud voice and a mighty leap. The cheek was paled-the hands were clenched, until the blood almost started from the thin, bony fingers-large, heavy drops of sweat hung about his forehead; and his eyes, now brightened and now darkened, as with partial insanity. The earth seemed to move from beneath him; he was one moment kneeling, as if at confession, and in the next he seemed to tread on air.

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Spirit of the lost! you yet hover around me," raved he. "From the early grave you rise to crush me. Your curse is yet with me. You wander for ever on the wings of the air. Your flight is in the calm and in the whirlwind, and the trees bend swiftly to your footsteps, and the winds echo to the music of your voice. Beautiful one! you are with me, through the gloomy night, and amid the sunshine of mid-day. You are there-there-there. Hush! lest I fright you. I see you as once I saw you-but even now you change, and your own blood streams over that beautiful face, and around those exquisite limbs. Ha! who did that deed? You smile. It was these hands. Ha! ha ha!" and with that strange and unearthly laugh he stretched forth his hands, as if grasping at something in the air, and fell to the earth.

Andeli saw him fall into that deathlike swoon, and turning, swiftly moved along. He had not walked far, ere he approached a small and neat white cottage, around whose door and windows clustered the vine and the honeysuckle, flinging at once a shade and a fragrance about the spot. A fit haunt was this for love and beauty! An angel, as it wheeled its course above the earth, might well start at meeting a place so beautiful in this dark world, and watch and protect its gentle inmates ere it again departs to the far off heavens. Before the cottage lay

wide and boundless plains, that stretched to the shores of the Seine, and in its rear was the dark and still forest, and the tall mountains, whose peaks were lost in the blue of the skywhilst closely around it, swept a bright and sparkling stream, now prattling with the pebbles, now playing with the reeds, and now dancing over its green margin, like a wild school-girl, singing gaily, as she romps along with a light heart and bright smile.

The young artist stooped, and gazed at the window; but it was not the beautuous flowers that clustered there, that caught his eye-it was not the slender twig or the green vine, bathed as they were in the moon's mystic light, that arrested and rivetted that eye to the spot. It was something fairer and brighter. It was a face lovely in charms-a form rounded into beauty by the goddess of love. Another moment, and his form no longer threw its shadow upon the grass-it was at her feet.

"Meta! my love, my life, I am with thee!" he whispered, as he arose, and twining his arm around her small waist, pressed her beating heart, that swelled beneath its snowy bosom, to his own.

She gazed upon her lover-for such was he to her; but her heart was too full for words. She gazed in silent and speechless eloquence. Not the eloquence of the lip, for that can coin itself to honied words in times of darkest doubt-but the eloquence of the soul, when every look and action imbodies truth. (To be continued.)

A TRUE KISS.

AN IMITATION, BY A LOVER, OF AN OLD ENGLISH POET.

THINK'ST thou a kiss like that deserves a song?
Lady, I cail that touching lips-not kissing:
Your lexicon explains this matter wrong;.
It is no kiss, when soul and sense are missing.

Why, 't was as light and careless as a bee,
Pausing a moment on some floweret's bell,
Then passing off again as instantly,
Finding no honey in its painted cell.

A true kiss to its inmost depths doth stir
The heart, awakening new sensations in it;
It is the soul's most potent conjurer,

And calls up all its spirits in a minute,
I'd have thy lips approach, as if a wife
Unto her far-off husband did repair,
And settle down upon my lips for life,
To rear a family of kisses there!

H

LEONE LEONI.

(Concluded from page 243.)

THE disease of our hostess became more critical every day, and at length the fatal moment approached, We beheld her sinking gradually, but she never lost for an instant her presence of mind. Her conversation flowed as lively and as agreeable as ever. "How sorry I am," she would say, "that Juliet is your sister; I know of no woman so likely to make you happy, and I grieve to think that when I am gone, you may throw yourself away on some undeserving object; you are admirably suited to each other." The effect of these equivoques was to me irresistible, that the nearer she drew to her death, the more strongly did I become attached to her; she was so calm, so self-possessed, I could not believe she was on the point of being separated from us for ever. I could not think of seeing her large gilt arm-chair, standing empty between Leoni and myself without feeling my eyes fill with tears.

One evening I was engaged in reading to her while Leoni was applying warm napkins to her feet, when a letter was handed to her by a footman. She read it through, uttered a scream and fainted; while I applied restoratives, Leoni picked up the letter and ran it through. Although the handwriting was disguised, he recognised it at once as that of the Marquis de Chalon. It was an information against me, containing circumstantial details relative to my family, my elopement and my marriage with Leoni, with a tissue of most odious calumnies against my manners and character.

At the sound of the cry uttered by the Princess, Lorenzo, who was ever hovering around us like a bird of ill omen, entered the room, and Leoni drawing him aside to a window showed him Chalon's letter; they approached us, the Marquis as usual perfectly calm, and wearing on his lips the ironical smile which seldom left them, Leoni in great agitation glancing interrogatively at the Marquis as if he sought his advice. The Princess lay insensible in my arms. The Marquis shrugged his shoulders. "Send your wife for assistance," said he, loud enough for me to hear; "leave the rest to me."

"What would you do?" said Leoni, in the greatest agitation. "Be quiet. I have an expedient at hand which I always carry about me. But send away your wife."

Leoni told me to go and call the women: I obeyed, and laid the Princess' head gently upon a pillow. I was in the act of

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crossing the threshold when it seemed as if a magnetic power forced me to turn about. I saw the Marquis advance towards the sick woman as if to assist her, but there was something so malignant in his look, and Leoni was so deadly pale, that I felt afraid of leaving the dying woman in their hands. I flew back to the sofa, and looking at Leoni with terror in my countenance: Beware, beware," said I. "Of what?" replied he, with an air of astonishment. The fact was I knew not of what, and I felt ashamed of the species of folly which I had just displayed. The ironical air of the Marquis completed my embarrassment. I left the room and returned in a few moments with the waiting-women and the physician. The latter functionary pronounced the Princess labouring under a rigidity of the muscles, and declared she must be made to swallow a spoonful of calming potion. They tried to separate her teeth. "Let the Signora try her hand," said one of the waiting-women pointing to me, "the Princess will be sure to take it from her." I tried my skill accordingly, and the dying woman yielded gently to my efforts; she pressed my hand feebly, as I withdrew the spoon, she then extended her arms with violence-sprang upright as if she would rush into the middle of the room, and fell back dead upon the couch. A death so sudden affected me terribly, I fainted and was carried insensible from the room. In this state I remained for some days. When I recovered, Leoni informed me that I was now in my own house-that the will had been opened-proved-and unimpeachable in every particular;—that we were in possession of a splendid fortune and a magnificent palace.

"It is to you I owe everything," said Leoni, "and what is more, to you I owe the inestimable pleasure of being able to revert without a pang of shame or remorse to the last hours of our friend. Your sensibility, your angelic sweetness smoothed her sufferings and rendered them tranquil and easy; she died in your arms-a rival whom any woman but yourself would have strangled, and now you weep for her as if she were your sister; you are too good, too good. And now enjoy the fruits of your courage, rejoice in my delight at being rich for your sake, and in being able to surround you with all the comforts which should be yours."

"Silence," said I, "it is now that I blush and feel confounded; while that woman lived, while I sacrificed my pride, my love, I consoled myself with the reflection that I liked her, and that I immolated myself for her and for you. But now I

see nothing but the baseness, the hatefulness of my situation. How the world must despise us!"

"Here you are mistaken," said Leoni, "the world honours and bows to us because we are rich."

But his triumph was short-lived. The heirs at law hurried from Rome, furious against us, and having heard the details of the sudden decease of the Princess, accused us of having hastened it by poison, and insisted on a post-mortem examination. The body was disinterred, and a mere inspection was sufficient to establish the fact that a violent poison had been adininistered to the deceased. "We are undone," said Leoni, bursting into my room, Zagorola has been poisoned, and we are accused of it! Ask me not who is the author of this abomination, you need not. It was the devil in the shape of Lorenzo. He is safe, and we are in the custody of the police. Have you cou rage to jump out of that window?"

"No," said I. "I am innocent. guilty, fly!"

I fear not-if you are

"I am not guilty, Juliet," said he, grasping my arm in a rage, "don't accuse me when I don't accuse myself. You know I never spare myself.'

We were arrested and thrown into prison; an indictment was preferred against us. We stood our trial: the charges were vague and unsubstantiated. My youth and my air of sincerity prejudiced the judges in my behalf, and I was immediately acquitted. The honour and life of Leoni remained for some time longer in suspense. But his address and the want of proof brought him through, and he was finally acquitted and released. Suspicion then fell upon the servants. The Marquis had disappeared, but he returned in disguise as soon as we had been released, and gave Leoni to understand that he was to divide the property with him. He declared we owed everything to him, that but for his promptitude and boldness the will would have been destroyed. He spoke of the murder of Henryet by the hand of Leoni, of which he was an eye-witness, and Leoni was constrained to pay him a very large sum. then commenced a life of dissipation and boundless extravagance. To ruin himself once more was to Leoni the affair of six months. I saw without regret the rapid disappearance of that wealth which I had acquired with shame and grief; but for his sake I was alarmed at the approach of misery and want, I knew he could not endure them, and that to extricate himself he would rush into new dangers. Unfortunately, it was im

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