gaming, and my days yawned away in the fearful stupefaction that followed the more fearful excitement of the night ?"

Some peculiar ill-fortune appeared to have attended him in connection with that examination. I have already mentioned that the examiners were not in general too severe in their exactions upon the knowledge of fellow-commoners; and perhaps dependence upon this encouraged Edmund in the absolute idleness which he practised; but, indeed, at the moment his infatuation was such that he plainly made no calculation at all. However, he went in depending on his general knowledge and his velvet gown to pass, when, to his consternation, he found that one of his examiners was Dr. Dyke; just one of those obstinate men who were so unreasonable as to expect fellow-commoners to know something of their business; and the consequence was, that Edmund was cautioned.

With some hesitation he confessed to me that he had demeaned himself, for so he now termed it, to employ personal solicitations with Dr. Dyke; he represented to him that his attaining his property was contingent on his degree; but it was all in vain; Dr. Dyke simply told him that this was an additional reason for cautioning himhe said that "no one so ignorant of astronomy was fit to manage his own property; and besides, it would in fact be cheating the charity to which his money was going, to let him pass." The loss of the examination was now irretrievable, and the consequent postponement of his union with Letitia was equally beyond the power of alteration. I advised him to tell her candidly everything concerning the matter

that the woman to whom he was to be united for life was entitled to his confidence. He did not, however, seem to assent to my reasoning, and I left him still undecided how he should act.

That night Nolan and he quarrelled, I could not ascertain from what cause, but I was glad of it; Nolan left his rooms in a passion, and did not return. Edmund was now comparatively happy and contented. The period of Letitia's return was coming near; there seemed nothing to fret him except that his three last letters to her had been

unanswered-she was, however, well. I thought that the manner of her family towards Edmund was changed. Mrs. Jephson seemed upon one occasion anxious to put off his inquiries about Letitia; I determined to watch closely for the cause; I soon gathered from hints let fall incautiously in my presence, that a very rich baronet in the neighbourhood of Cork had been paying Letitia remarkable attention, and I could perceive that her mother was dazzled by the prospects of a bril liant alliance, and would not have been sorry to have a pretext to break off her engagement with Edmund. My heart trembled for Edmund's happiness. I saw that all depended upon Letitia's constancy, but I thought she loved Edmund well enough to resist, for his sake, the solicitations of her friends. I certainly thought her not writing strange, but this I attributed to the influence, perhaps the surveil lance, of her aunt.

It was about ten days after Nolan had left Edmund's rooms, that I was surprised at receiving a visit from him. Nolan had all that easy assurance of manner that passes generally for gentility; and, though I did not shew much signs of being glad to see him, he made himself perfectly at home. It was a keen frosty day, and he drew his chair in close to the fire. I could not help remarking both the shabbiness of his dress, and the delicacy of his appearance; bad indications of the state both of his pocket and health. Nolan was generally very fastidious in his personal appearance-he was still neat, but his clothes were threadbare; the worn cuffs of his old black coat formed a strange contrast with a large and sparkling brilliant upon his finger-his cheeks were sallow, a large red patchI can describe the appearance no other way-appeared as if it was a dash of paint upon each, and a hollow cough seemed to come from the very depths of his lungs.

"Mr. O'Brien," said he, "I am going to take a liberty with you that perhaps our intimacy does not warrant; but it is one you must excuse; my conduct is dictated only by a sense of what is due to a respectable family. I believe you are related to the Jephsons."

I bowed assent.

"I ought first perhaps to premise that what I now say is confidential.” Pardon me, Mr. Nolan," I interrupted; "I make no pledge-I will keep no secrets that honor will not permit--I do not seek any communication from you; if you volunteer one, it must be left to my own feeling whether it is to be confidential."

He seemed a little thrown off his centre." I am content to leave it to your own feeling. I am sure I am safe in doing so. And believe me, Mr. O'Brien, that although some people may speak ill of me, if you knew me you would feel convinced I could have no secret that is not honourable to communicate to you."

He uttered these last words with the tone of one who felt that he had been injured by the opinion of the world. I pitied him—I almost felt disposed to trust him.

"I believe," said he, "young Connor is to be married to one of the Jephsons."

I said nothing; he took my silence for assent and proceeded-" I do not know whether the family are aware that he is a confirmed gambler."

I hardly knew what to say. "He is, in fact, a ruined man; his whole fortune is gone; I am sorry to say I know this from having been too often his companion at the gambling table; but, as I have the deepest respect for your character, although you have often seemed to shun me as if I was infectious I do not know how you may take my interference-but I thought it right that you should know the real state of Connor's affairs-you may, of course, act upon my information as you think fit."

I thanked him!!-God forgive my hypocrisy I thanked him!!-I told him I already knew of Edmund's gambling, but added that I trusted he was now reclaimed.

"Reclaimed !" he repeated with bit terness; “ah, Mr. O'Brien, you have never been a gambler, or you would not speak of any one being reclaimed; there is a curse about any one that has ever thrown the dice at a gambling table, that cannot be shaken off. Mr. O'Brien," he added, passionately, "I know too well the bitterness of that curse, ever to wish a young and inno

cent girl to share it, and share it she will if she marries a gambler."

He bid me politely good morning, and I could not help standing for a moment at the window, to watch him as he went across the courts. He was very much emaciated; I could hear the deep hollow cough that sounded as if from the tomb, and seemed aggravated by the keen blast of the cutting breeze from which he had not even a great coat to shelter him; I could not help feeling that this was the sign of his poverty, and my heart bled for him as he stopped to cough, and literally shivered in the sharp frosty wind.

I could not understand the interview I had with him; I knew not whether to attribute it to some cunning, or to the feelings which he had assigned. I determined, for the present, not to mention it to Edmund, but to watch the progress of circumstances.

All went on quietly, and it was within two days of Letitia's return, Edmund's impatience was almost hourly increasing; he could think of nothing, he could talk of nothing, but the delight of meeting her, and once more, in the assurance of her love, forgetting all that he had suffered, and laughing at all that he had feared. He had spent a week in constructing a work-box for her, with his own hands, and he had it just completed. One morning he had just finished the carving of her Christian name-he left a blank for the other, and said, laughingly, he would leave that for herself to fill up; he had also got a pair of white rabbits, which she had long expressed a wish to possess, and he had spent much of his time, along the shore beyond Killiney, gathering sea-shells, of which she had always been fond.

It was, as I said, within two days of the time of Letitia's return; the Jephsons had some time returned to town; I got in the morning a note from my aunt, it was put into my hand just as I was looking at Edmund's arrangement of all his little presents for Letitia; it requested of me to see her immediately, and to come alone, the word alone was dashed. I made what haste I could; I found my aunt looking pale and agitated, Mr. Jephson was walking up and down the room, apparently in a passion, and Caroline

was sitting in a window, evidently in bad temper.

I was ushered in to meet this family party. "So, here, sir," exclaimed Mr. Jephson, violently, "here is a pretty piece of business, my daughter nearly destroyed; just about to be married to a beggar and a gambler."

My aunt endeavoured to moderate his rage, but, like all weak men, he was violent. D-n the rascal !" he repeated two or three times, vehemently, and when he had apparently appeased himself, by thus charitably consigning poor Edmund to the evil one, he looked out of one of the windows, and remained silent.

"Stevenson, my dear," said my aunt, it was one of her foibles to call me by my second name, which she fancied a genteel one; "Stevenson, my dear! now that your uncle will let me speak, we have been all terribly annoyed this morning; your uncle has been told by an old friend, that Mr. Connor spends all his time in gambling, and we have sent for you to know about it; but indeed our information is too certain to be doubted, and you know, my dear," she added, "it would be a sad thing if poor Letitia was married to a gambler."

. I could not deny part of the information-I explained the real state of Edmund's affairs, and I pleaded his cause as well as I could. I told of his oath-I told the exact amount of his embarrassments-but all would not do. Mr. Jephson grew more and more violent" No daughter of mine shall ever marry a gambler. No! no! d-n the rascal," he began again; indeed this imprecation seemed his safety-valve. Mrs. Jephson was less violent, but equally determined, she said she expected I would myself have told them what I knew. "Indeed Stevenson," said she, "your uncle and I have been disappointed in your conduct."

I felt the color rush to my cheeks at this reproach, which was apparently too well merited. Mr. Jephson said nothing, but contented himself with his usual imprecation. I almost thought he meant in his heart to apply it to me. The end was, that I was commissioned to communicate to poor Edmund the wishes of the family, that he should

He seemed stupified. He said nothing for some minutes. He tore the paper that contained the parcel into pieces he flung the fragments viofently on the floor, and stamped, and gnashed his teeth. Oh, then, she, too, has forsaken me: she is false is it not false as hell?-ay, that is the word-false as HELL."

He stopped. He ran and gathered up the fragments of the paper his violence had torn: he put them together, and gazed upon the writing, as if to be sure that it was hers: he kissed the words over and over, and then placed the torn pieces carefully in his desk.

He stopped a moment. He asked me for the letter which I had. I gave it to him. He snatched up his hat, and hurried from the room.

I followed him. I knew not to what his passion might lead him. He had, however, rushed far across the courts. It was a blustery, rainy night. I met him quickly returning. I stopped him, and said, "Edmund, think of what you are about: do nothing foolish."

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"No," said he, calmly, I will not; but I was forgetting the messenger that will take this letter to Letitia's hands."

I did not know what he meant. I could hardly keep up with his quick step as he rushed back to his rooms. He took up his purse, which he had left lying on the table, and, shaking it, he said, with a bitter smile, "This will find its way where friendship could not. Letitia's maid will be a better messenger than you."

He rushed out again; and, now that I perceived that his plans were rational, I did not care to follow him;

indeed, I did not wish to be found an accessory to the bribing of my aunt's servants, and as I was not sure but he might be detected, and I could possibly give him no assistance, I thought it more prudent to stay quietly at home.

He soon returned to me. He bad had an interview with Letitia's maid, whom he had bribed to carry the letter to her mistress. The maid had told him that one night, when Letitia was going to bed, she had burst out into crying; but that every other night she seemed just as usual; but Mrs. Jephson had mostly come into her room.

To his mind the fact of her crying one night was sufficient evidence of her constancy. He was in high spirits. What were the contents of his letter he would not tell me. Next day, however, cast him down again. As soon as it was dark he went to receive the answer from the maid it was his own letter returned. Miss Letitia had read it over; she began to cry, and scolded her maid for bringing her such a letter: she was at first going to tell her mother, but as this would have cost the girl her place, she gave her back the letter, having first sealed it again, and told her to give it back where she got it.

“And did she ask nothing more about it?" said Edmund, eagerly.

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No!" replied Barbara; "but after she went to bed, she sobbed and cried, and in the morning her pillow was all marked with her tears."

"I hear some talk," added Barbara, "about her going to be married to a great gentleman from Cork: he came to the house today."

This was enough for Edmund: he flew back to me in a state bordering upon distraction. Next day he intreated of me to go to the house and find all out. I complied with his request, and, with a beating heart, I knocked next morning at the Jephsons' hall-door.

I found my aunt sitting alone.

"Well, Stevenson, my dear," she said, after some commonplace conversation, "you may wish me joy.”

"Of what, ma'am ?" I asked. "Both the girls, my dear, are to be married on one day."

"Married!" I cried, in a voice of astonishment that I could not repress. "Yes," she answered. I suppose