CHAPTER XVII.

THERE is a great deal of mystery about this man, thought the Count to himself, I am at a loss to conjecture wherefore so much is needful. Let him but once put the indenture into my hands, and I warrant that I will shortly make good my cause. I am quite strong enough, at present even, to defend this monk from any who would harm him for doing me service,-how much more So shall I be when the papers are in my keeping! However, be it so. On Thursday next-it is long to wait!-at two hours past sunset. Well! let me see, this is Tuesday,I only then shall have the whole of to-morrow and the next day to feel anxiety-forty-eight

hours-I wish with all my heart, this monk had made the sum of his religion to consist in acting as an honest man, rather than in such foolery. To wait here two days, when two hours would have sufficed to instruct me in all I wish to know! Jeanne-Ah! with what anxiety art thou at this moment thinking of me and of how I speed! Howe'er -patience there is no remedy.

Preparing to go to rest for the night, he divested himself of his armour, that is of a light corselet which was usually worn in travelling. Whilst thus employed, a thousand pleasing reflections crossed his mind; and he enjoyed himself in all the luxury of anticipating the time when he should be put in full possession of his ancestral domains— of that object of ambition which had throughout life been predominant in his bosom.

Yet-for there are certain spirits in the world which nature seems not to have formed for happiness, and within whom some Demon dwells that he may laugh to scorn their idle aspirations-yet were these sweet sooth

ing hopes mixed up with-or rather perhaps succeeded by-some dread, secret, indefinable apprehension of impending evil. He flung himself upon the bed, and as he laid pondering over the subject of his late reflections, heard a noise in an adjoining recess, as of some insect tapping on the mouldering wood within it. His imagination was on the wing-the events of the preceding days had given it flight-he listened he held his breath"hark!"-it struck him as the sound of the ill-omening cricket which he heard.

If, in the present day, advanced as we are in science, and when people publicly laugh to scorn such notions, and call them idle superstitions, there are still many, and well educated people too, who secretly have such feelings; how little is it to be wondered at, that, in an age when every body believedand freely owned themselves to do so-in forewarnings, in magic, and in communings of departed spirits, with friends or foes who still remained on earth,-Robert, though one of the most enlightened and accomplished of

the day in which he lived, should feel some terror, some dread, awful apprehension of what this noise might portend?

He continued listening in a breathless agitation, which became less endurable at each succeeding stroke the insect made. "Heavenly Mother! Holy Virgin!" said he at length, starting up, "What meaneth that? whence cometh it? Is it the Death-watch-that baleful insect, which croaketh his harsh grating notes upon the ear of man, when Death is scything down some object of his love!—Oh, Jeanne ! - Hark! - again-Oh! my child! Have I come hither then, thus far, for your loved sakes, that I might clothe you in the dignity which is your due; and shall I, at the very moment that I think myself about to clutch the prize, behold you snatched from me, and the enjoyment of it? Again!-Oh!Peace, cursed reptile-Peace, be still-be still, or my poor heart will break. Another!-Oh, hateful, horrible!-Yet-No, no-It cannot be. Never hath the great and good Creator

of our immortal spirits given it to the wit of such a poor perishable thing as that which now so frighteth me, to toll the knell of our departure from a world where he hath placed What idle fantasy it was!-So! I'll look up again-It cannot be !"

us.

Yet still the cricket continued tapping on the wood, or using that particular note which resembles it; and notwithstanding all the reason which he called to his aid, and which convinced his mind, his heart remained unsatisfied, and misgave him.-What poor, weak, wavering, wretched things we are! - when even at the very moment in which we feel most strong in reason, and have brought ourselves to mock ourselves for our apprehensions, thinking us victors-we are vanquished!

Robert again sunk upon the pillow, endeavouring by argument to convince himself that the fears, the indescribable apprehensions which haunted him, were idle. It would not do. Still the insect continued its fearful annunciation. He arose with the design of finding the creature and putting it out of the way,