"I was very young," she said, "younger than you, Monica, when the greatest sorrow of my life occurred. At the time of the former rising in 1715, my faith was plighted to one who held a command in the insurgent army. I will not breathe his name, but he belonged to a noble family that had made great sacrifices for King James the Second, and was prepared to make equal sacrifices for the Chevalier de St. George. The brave and noble youth to whom I was betrothed was sanguine of success, and I had no misgivings. I was with him at Preston during the battle, and when the capitulation took place, he confided me to a friend whom he loved as a brother, saying to him, 'Should my life be taken by our bloodthirsty foes, as I have reason to fear it will, be to her what I would have been. Regard her as my widow--wed her.' His friend gave the promise he required, and he kept his word." Here she paused for a short time, while Monica and Constance--neither of whom had ever heard of this singular promise, or of the betrothal that preceded it--looked at each other. Meanwhile, a change came over Mrs. Butler's countenance--the expression being that of horror. Her lips were slightly opened, her large dark eyes dilated, and though they were fixed on vacancy, it was easy to perceive that a fearful vision was rising before her. "Ay, there it is," she cried, in tones and with a look that froze the blood of her hearers--"there is the scaffold!" stretching out her hand, as if pointing to some object. "'Tis there, as I beheld it on that fatal morn on Tower Hill. 'Tis draped in black. The block is there, the axe, the coffin, the executioner. A vast concourse is assembled--and what an expression is in their faces! But where is he? I see him not. Ah! now he steps upon the scaffold. How young, how handsome he looks! How undaunted is his bearing! Every eye is fixed upon him, and a murmur of pity bursts from the multitude. He looks calmly round. He has discovered me. He smiles, and encourages me by his looks. Some ceremonies have to be performed, but these are quickly over. He examines the block--the coffin--with unshaken firmness--and feels the edge of the axe. Then he prays with the priest who attends him. All his preparations made, he bows an eternal farewell to me, and turns---- Ha! I can see no more--'tis gone!" And she sank back half fainting in the chair, while her daughter and niece sought to revive her. So vivid had been the effect produced, that those present almost fancied they had witnessed the terrible scene described. For a brief space not a word was spoken. At the end of that time, Mrs. Butler opened her eyes, and fixing them upon the young men, exclaimed: "Again, I pray Heaven to avert such a fate from you both!" Monica burst into tears. Her lover flew towards her, and as she seemed about to swoon, he caught her in his arms.