Chambermaid says, ma'am, that he was out all night, and hasn't come back by no means.

Well, Sir, I was in such a quandary! -we first thought he was drowned, and poor Mr. Scoremup had the river dragged nearly as far down as Dunderton, but we never got any tidings of him. Mr. Scoremup said he was a swindler, but I often thought that if the poor gentleman had been alive, he'd have come back to settle his account; he owed me a matter of fifteen pounds, Sir; he didn't care what he ordered-I thought he was a rare customer-when we came to search his portmanteau, there were only a few shirts and stockings in it; poor Mr. Scoremup wore them himself afterwards; there was no mark upon his linen; I found this picture in the table-drawer in his room."

"Did you not advertize?" said I. "Advertize! bless your heart, Sir, twenty years ago; we never saw a paper here from year's end to year's

end."

Mrs. Scoremup and I had some further conversation upon the same subject; I wanted to purchase the portrait of her, but she refused to part with it. "I sometimes suspect," said she, "as she was leaving the room, that Margaret Chambermaid knows more about the matter than she would have us to think; she can't abide to look at this picture, and the first time she saw me wearing it, I thought she would have dropped; she's a strange girl sometimes, Sir."

When my landlady had departed, I was altogether at a loss what to do with myself; my visits to the ruined house had been interdicted by Mr. Pettiquirk, no other part of the neighbourhood possessed the slightest interest in my eyes; I had nothing for it, but to sit down quietly by the fireside, and ruminate in silence upon the strange histories I had so recently been listening to. Haverfield Grange, with its neglected grounds, its closed-up gates, and its shattered casements, seemed faintly shadowed forth on the billowy clouds of Varinas vapour that rolled heavily from my lips. As I sat in my solitary sitting room, I seemed again to behold the spectral form of the mysterious stranger gazing from the dilapidated window, and reflecting upon the story I had heard from Mr. Scoremup, felt convinced that the circumstances of his

Something more than a week had elapsed since the professional visit of my friend Mr. Pettiquirk, my landlady was abroad at some village junketting, and my fire blazed cheerfully in its ample hearth: in short I was happy, for I had at length prevailed upon Margaret to reveal to me the hitherto hidden mystery of the deserted house. It were needless to enumerate the various devices I put in practice to entrap the ci-devant soubrette; it is a vulgar error to suppose that ladies are incapable of retaining secrets, I do not know any class of persons who in general keep them better, or, indeed, have more to keep. It was not until I had declared to Margaret, in a solemn manner my serious intention of espousing her, and thereupon laid claim to that unreserved

confidence, which is the privilege of a husband, that I induced her to communicate the morceau of secret history which I am about to relate.

Were I servilely to adhere to the style and form of expression used by the fair narratrix, together with the somewhat copious digressions, and episodes consequent thereon, I fear that my unhappy narrative would become almost as tedious, although not so expensive as a Whig Commission of enquiry; trusting, therefore, that such of my readers as are still awake will pardon the prolixity I have already indulged in, I shall, in as few words as possible, hasten to the conclusion of this "strange eventful history."

"The village clock was striking ten, when Mr. Desborough, alone, and on foot, arrived at the back-entrance of Haverfield Grange. He had met with three signal misfortunes in the course of the day, and his temper was consequently exacerbated to an unusual degree. He had been completely thrown out in the chase; he had staked his favourite hunter to death in an ineffectual attempt to regain his place, and he had received a fall which, without inflicting any serious injury, had shaken his frame in a most uncomfortable manner.

"It is not to be wondered at, then, that he was in no disposition to enjoy the boisterous festivities of the foxhunting club, of which he was a member, and that he took the earliest opportunity of escaping from his claret-drinking companions, who seemed to have regarded the mishaps he had met with as themes of unextinguishable mirth.

"Instead of knocking at the gate, as was his usual custom when he returned home on horseback; on this particular evening he made use of his master-key, and not wishing to exhibit to his servants the tattered, bemired, and altogether rueful looking condition of his habiliments, he determined to proceed at once to his chamber, and committing himself to his couch, seek that repose which his aching bones told him he stood so much in need of.

situated between the two windows, and excavated, as it were, out of the thickness of the wall, which even for a country mansion was unusually solid."

"I did not expect you so early, Desborough," said his lady, as she closed the door of the little cabinet.

"Who have you got in the closet, Adeline?" said the Sqnire, who had caught an indistinct glimpse of a dark figure in the farthest recess.

"Tis only Margaret, folding up my dresses," rejoined the lady, with a quiet air. "Had you an agreeable dinner at the club to-day?"

Mr. Desborough did not answer her, for, at that moment, the chamber door opened, and Margaret entered; it was a clap of thunder to the hitherto unsuspicious husband; he thrust his hands to the extremity of his breechespockets, and forgetting his bruises and his fatigues, began to pace up and down the bed-room with a hasty and uncertain step.

"Is there any thing the matter with you, Desborough ?" said his wife, looking timidly at him, "have you received any disagreeable intelligence ?"

The husband continued his promenade without speaking.

Margaret, you may leave me now," said Mrs. Desborough to her maid, who was occupied in arranging her mistress's hair for the night.

When Margaret was out of hearing, or rather was supposed to be so, for she remained with her ear rivetted to the key-hole, Mrs. Desborough looked up, and beheld her husband standing before her; his cheeks were pale, his lips trembled, and his voice was husky with suppressed passion.

"Madam!" said he, "there is somebody concealed in that closet."

She gazed upon him with an appearance of stupefaction, the expres sion of her countenance resembled that of a sleeper distorted by a perturbed dream.

Mr. Desborough had turned away with the intention of scrutinizing the fatal cabinet himself, when his further progress was arrested by the hand of his wife, laid gently upon his arm; there was something touching in her regard, and in the subdued tones of her voice, as she looked up sadly in his face.

to do, if you enter that cabinet and find no person within, we are parted for ever."

The Squire was moyed to an unwonted degree by this appeal on the part of a wife, whom, notwithstanding his constant neglect, and occasional brutality, he still loved, and felt proud of.

"Adeline," said he, "I will not enter your closet; in either case you would be lost to me for ever. I do justice to the purity of your heart, and the blamelessness of your life. I am not insensible to the patience with which you have endured my irregularities, and the caprices of my temper; will you then, for my satisfaction, give me your word, that there is no person concealed in that closet ?"

"I will," said she, "there is no person that I am aware of, concealed in that closet.

"Nay," cried the Squire, "you will swear it ?"

"I will swear," said the lady, in hurried accents, "that there is no person concealed in that closet."

I am quite satisfied," replied the husband, as he rang the bell, "and now I shall give you an account of the misfortunes that befel me to-day."

“Margaret," said he, addressing himself to that soubrette, who appeared at the door, "tell Wilkins I wish to speak to him."

Mr. Wilkins was the head groom, valet, and occasional confidant of the Squire.

"Wilkins, said Mr. Desborough, going to the door where the servant stood awaiting him, Wilkins, and he lowered his voice, " go through the house, and see that all the servants retire to their sleeping rooms, with as little delay as possible, then run down to the village and bring up Joberson, the mason, with you, you can assist him in carrying his tools. You understand" added he, slipping a couple of guineas into his agent's hands, "there is a job to be done here to-night, and it must be done, as expeditiously, and quietly as possible."

"Well as I was saying," said the Squire, returning to his wife whom he had taken care not to lose sight of, while giving his directions to the servant, I was mounted upon the sorrel mare, &c. &c. &c.

"Joberson is waiting at the door, Sir," said Wilkins, who had executed his master's commands with his usual celerity and exactness.

On hearing the mason announced, Mrs. Desborough coloured slightly, but made no remark.

Joberson," said her husband, "I wish to have the door-way of that closet built up with as much despatch as possible, Wilkins will take you to the barn, where you will find bricks and materials for mortar, sufficient for the purpose."

Mrs. Desborough appeared occupied by the perusal of a volume of "the Tatler," which she held in her hand.

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Joberson," said the Squire, in a low tone of voice, when the mason had returned, "it is your intention, I understand, to set out for America shortly?" I should have gone there last Spring, Sir," said the mason, "but my money was not sufficient."

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"Well," said the Squire, "I think I can put you in a condition to leave the country handsomely; if you do this job cleverly, and without making a noise, you shall have a cheque upon my banker in London for two hundred pounds. You shall have five hundred more on my being apprized of your arrival at New York, and after the expiration of ten years, if I shall be satisfied that you have resided all that time in America, you shall have three hundred more."

"A thousand pounds in all!" shouted the astonished mason, "I'll set about it directly, Sir, if you please."

Mr. Desborough walked to the window farthest from the fire-place, and stood with folded-arms, and gazing upon the moon that floated tranquilly amongst the fleecy clouds.

"Joberson!" whispered Mrs. Desborough, "a hundred guineas, if you leave a crevice in the wall-a breathing space."

The Squire turned hastily round, divested his wearied feet of his heavy boots, put on a pair of velvet slippers, and recommenced, with noiseless steps, his promenade up and down the chamber.

The mason, who by his looks seemed to have understood the hint he had received, contrived to dislodge, with much dexterity, and little noise, the large pain of plate-glass, which occupied the centre of the closet-door;

when he had done this he was enabled to perceive, not without infinite amazement and some horror, the sombre figure of a man, whose black eyes seemed to flash fire from amid the darkness that surrounded them.

The unhappy lady took the opportunity of her husband's back being turned towards her, to admonish the stranger by a sign, that hope had not yet abandoned her.

It was four o'clock in the morning, when Mr. Joberson had completed his well requited piece of masonry, he was dismissed by the Squire with his cheque, and a positive command to proceed directly to London, without stopping a single day either in the village, or on the road; the ill-fated couple then retired to their couch. and the chamber, lately the scene of so singular an adventure, became nearly as silent, as, afterwards, it was destined to remain for sixty years.

About nine o'clock, when the Squire had nearly concluded dressing himself, he turned suddenly to his wife, and said, "By the bye, if you have no objection to joining me in a late breakfast, I should like to step down to Farmer Grumpus's turnip filed, where the sorrel mare staked herself yesterday; I thould be sorry were the poor thing devoured by the dogs, or what is worse, by the carrion crows, so if Grumpus will agree to have her buried."—

"Very well," said Mrs. Desborough, "I shall wait breakfast."

"Margaret!" shrieked the lady, in a thrilling tone, when her husband had

"Put your mistress to bed," said the Squire, coldly to Margaret.

"Wilkins," added he, turning to his confidential servant, "you will carry me my meals until further orders to this apartment; your mistress has got a bad fever, and I am determined not to quit her bed-side until the crisis be over."

During thirteen days the vindictive husband continued closely to confine himself within the fatal room, which his agonized and guilty wife could not summon resolution to quit; when upon the fourth and fifth the involuntary groans of the dying man became fearfully audible in the silent chamber, and the horror-stricken lady would fain have interceded on behalf of the immured victim: her dignified, deprecatory, or despairing addresses were calmly interrupted with— But, my dear, you have sworn to me, that no person is concealed in that closet." G. C.

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