upon her an independence from want, or possibly from crime? Ah, there was my sin, and the sin of my nature; the sin, too, of the children of the world--passive sin. I could sacrifice my happiness, but not my indolence; I was not ungenerous, I was inert. But is it too late? Can I not yet search, discover her, and remove from my mind the anxious burthen which her remembrance imposes on it? For, oh, one thought of remorse linked with the being who has loved us, is more intolerable to the conscience than the gravest crime!" Muttering such thoughts, Godolphin strayed on until the deepening night suddenly recalled his attention to the lateness of the hour. He turned to the house and entered his own apartment. Several of the guests had already come. Godolphin was yet dressing, when a servant knocked at the door and presented him with a note. "Lay it on the table," said he to the valet; "it is probably some excuse about the ball." "Sir," said the servant, "a lad has just brought it from S----," naming a village about four miles distant; "and says he is to wait for an answer. He was ordered to ride as fast as possible." With some impatience Godolphin took up the note; but the moment his eye rested on the writing, it fell from his hands; his cheek, his lips, grew as white as death; his heart seemed to refuse its functions; it was literally as if life stood still for a moment, as by the force of a sudden poison. With a strong effort he recovered himself, tore open the note, and read as follows: "Percy Godolphin, the hour has arrived-once more we shall meet. I summon you, fair love, to that meeting--the bed of death. Come! Lucilla Volktman." "Don't alarm the countess," said Godolphin to his servant, in a very low, calm voice; "bring my horse to the postern, and send the bearer of this note to me." The messenger appeared--a rough country lad, of about eighteen or twenty. "You brought this note?" "I did, your honour." "From whom?" "Why, a sort of a strange lady as is lying at the 'Chequers,' and not expected to live. She be mortal bad, sir, and do run on awesome." Godolphin pressed his hands convulsively together. "And how long has she been there?" "She only came about two hours since, sir; she came in a chaise, sir, and was taken so ill, that we sent for the doctor directly. He says she can't get over the night." Godolphin walked to and fro, without trusting himself to speak, for some minutes. The boy stood by the door, pulling about his hat, and wondering, and staring, and thoroughly stupid. "Did she come alone?" "Eh, your honour?" "Was no one with her?" "Oh, yes! a little nigger girl: she it was sent me with the letter." "The horse is ready, sir," said the servant; "but had you not better have the carriage brought out? It looks very black; it must rain shortly, sir; and the ford between this and S---- is dangerous to cross in so dark a night."