had his marriage been before known to me. Now, I but neat apartment, and informed Genevieve that he feel that we are forever separated, and I can struggle was ordered on an expedition which would detain him more effectually against my unfortunate partiality. until the following day. My guardian has urged me to travel. As the winter is approaching, I will visit the south, and probably spend some years from my native place. I will return with renovated health and spirits, or not at all."

Genevieve thought it the best thing she could do, and in a few weeks every arrangement was made, and the friends parted.

It was some months after this, that Melton entered the room in which his wife sat, and without regarding her smiling welcome, and the inquiries she made respecting his early return--as he had told her he should be absent some days--he threw himself on a seat, and buried his face in his hands. With a blanched cheek, Genevieve drew near him, and sought to draw from him the cause of his evident distress. He gazed on her wildly, as if he did not understand the meaning of her words: then starting up, he exclaimed--" Ruined! utterly ruined! My uncle has discarded me -But no, dearest of human creatures, I am not ruined, or desolate, while you remain to me!"

"The civil authorities," said he, " have been informed that the pirate, Manning, is concealed in the suburbs of the city, with a few of his most desperate followers. You know that he has once been taken, and escaped, and the police has ever since been on the alert for him. It is generally supposed that he will make a desperate defence, and a guard of the military has been ordered out to protect the officers of justice. The command is entrusted to me; and I snatched a moment to tell you not to expect me home before morning."

Genevieve listened in terror, and said, "I have felt a presentiment of evil darkening my mind during the day! 'Tis foolish, I know, to indulge such feelings, but I cannot shake them off. Be careful, for Heaven's sake!"

"For your sake I certainly will,” replied Melton, smiling. "If your cheek blanches at the prospect of a slight skirmish, love, how could you bear to see me go forth to battle? Still the alarms of that too sensitive heart, and be assured that I shall return in safety."

A smile, bright as those of their first days of love and happiness, beamed on his face as he bade her adieu; and she stood at the window watching his graceful figure until it was lost to view: then wiping the tears from her eyes, she murmured-"If any harm were to befal him, 1 should be lost indeed! Yet I fear my fond idolatry deserves some punishment."

He presently became more calm, and informed her that his uncle had that morning insisted that he should no longer delay offering his hand to Miss Adams. He was well assured that she was suffering from the effects of a concealed passion for him, and there was no excuse for his not addressing a woman who was thus devoted. Incensed at his excuses, the elder Melton accused him of having formed an attachment to an ob- Her presentiments were too painfully verified. The scure girl, of whose family nothing certain was known. pirates contended fiercely, and Melton was brought Enraged at the terms in which he spoke of Genevieve, home severely wounded. Genevieve hung over him in Melton avowed his marriage. His uncle bitterly up- speechless agony, and refused to listen to the consobraided him, and informed him that all hopes of fur-lation the surgeon endeavored to give her. For some ther assistance from him might be given up from that hour.

"And now, Genevieve," said Melton in conclusion, "I have nothing on earth left, except your love!" "That, dear Charles, you are certain of possessing, so long as this heart continues to throb."

weeks his life was held by a feeble thread; but the unremitting attentions of his devoted wife, and the prescriptions of a judicious medical attendant, finally restored him to something like health, though his constitution had received a shock from which he felt it would never recover. During his illness, his uncle The situation of Melton was distressing to any in- visited him, and softened by the extreme distress of dividual; but to a proud, sensitive spirit like his, pov-Genevieve, he began by pitying their unfortunate situaerty was a curse. He was much in debt, and his pay, tion, and ended in offering them an asylum in his own scanty as it was, could not all be appropriated to the house. Melton rejoiced in the illness that opened to support of his family. His creditors kindly consented him a prospect of future fortune, and gave him the to wait, and a portion of his yearly income was de- power of placing his admirable wife in the sphere she voted to liquidating his debts. For the next two years, was so eminently fitted to adorn. The heart of Genehis life was spent in all the bitterness of poverty, strug-vieve was beginning to recover something of its former gling to support a genteel appearance; but never for lightness, and the smile that irradiated her lovely one moment did he repent his precipitate marriage. features, the delighted Melton saw, was the offspring The love that had linked those two hearts, appeared to acquire a deeper and a more hallowed tenderness from the touch of misfortune. No murmur passed the lip, and no unkindness dwelt in the heart. Each acknowledged that it was far better thus, and together, than all the gifts of fortune, apart. His uncle had utterly cast him off, and she who would have assisted him, was far away, and knew nothing of his altered circumstances. Genevieve occasionally received small sums of money, enclosed with merely the words "From your father," and these were the only evidences she possessed that her father still lived.

It was towards the close of the second year of their marriage, that Melton one evening entered his small

of genuine happiness, when a letter was conveyed to her, informing her that if she wished to obtain infor mation respecting her father, the writer had it in his power to gratify her. He directed where an answer might be deposited that would reach him; and Genevieve replied, that if it was the wish of her father that she should be informed of his situation, nothing could afford her more gratification. The answer came the following day. It was brief. The writer directed her to go to the prison in which the pirates were confinedto inquire for Manning, and desire an interview with him. She was commanded not to inform her husband of her intentions, as his knowledge of them would compromise the safety of her father. He adjured her

by the love which that father had borne to her, not to fail | intense suffering, she recognized her father! Years in following his directions. "If you do," the letter concluded, "you will repent it to the last moment of your existence, and the recollection of it will darken every hour of your future life!"

After this she could not hesitate, and with an indefinite feeling of dread, she prepared herself to obey the injunctions contained in the letter.`

During Melton's illness and convalescence, the pirates had been tried and condemned to death, and were now waiting their fate in the city jail. Disguising herself as well as she was able, she made some excuse for absenting herself from home for several hours, and proceeded to the prison. Her correspondent had informed her, that on shewing the superscription of his last letter, the jailor would readily admit her. She followed his directions, and with much less difficulty than she had anticipated, found herself in the cell of the condemned convict. A mist seemed to fall over her sight as the ponderous door closed on her, and she trembled so violently, that she was compelled to lean against the wall for support.

As she recovered her self-possession, she looked around the miserable place in which she stood. In one corner, on a heap of straw, sat a man with his wrists and ankles heavily ironed. His form was wasted almost to a skeleton: his features were thin and sallow, and his matted black hair hung in masses over his brow; but amid all the squalidness that surrounded him, it was evident that the person before her had known better days, and had once been eminently handsome. There were the marks of deep suffering, "such as the soul's war doth leave behind," but if she had not known it, she would never have said that she was in the presence of a man whose bloody deeds had so often filled her heart with horror. There was none of that ferocity she had expected to see stamped on the face before her, but, on the contrary, his dark eyes seemed to rest on her with an expression of pity and tenderness. He appeared to be laboring under strong agitation, and rising with difficulty, he said, in a deep sad tone, which thrilled to her heart-"So you have come, and the fate of a parent is not indifferent to you, though you are now surrounded by all that makes life desirable to the young."

had intervened since she had last seen him, but she could not be mistaken in the features so indelibly engraven on her memory. When she recovered consciousness, she started from his supporting arm, and exclaimed-"Misery—misery to find you at last, and thus!" and she covered her face with her hands, and wept bitterly.

"Genevieve," said her father, "you do indeed find me wretchedly situated. Had not necessity compelled me to unfold it, you should never have known that you are the pirate's daughter."

"Can it be true?" said Genevieve. "The pirate's daughter! yes—yes, it is so. Am I the child of that cruel man, of whose deeds of daring I have read, while my blood congealed with horror? Father-father-oh what could so harden your once kind heart?"

"Desperation," replied he. "I found myself an outcast, with a curse resting on my head. I was deprived of the fortune legally mine, by the unjust will of a cruel father. I felt a savage joy in breaking every link that bound me to my species, and I took a dreadful revenge for their cruelty to me. I have seen the proud man kneel for mercy, and the coward shriek in his agony, and I laughed as I heard the death-rattle in their throats, and thought that I was avenged: but I did not wish you to be like myself. Your pure heart I resolved should never be contaminated by the guilt of mine. I knew it was death to be loved, or cherished by such a wretch as I am,-for had not a blight fallen on the only creature that ever truly loved me?-and I tore myself away from you, and tried to cease to love you. But I was not all lost-there were some lingerings of humanity still in my heart, and you alone, of all the world, were the only creature I did not hate. I have never lost sight of you, and in your poverty I would have lavished on you my ill-gotten wealth, had it not been wrested from me by the mutiny of my ungrateful followers. They set myself and three faithful companions on shore, with nothing but the clothes we wore. We have since rendered our names more notorious than ever, though little money was gained in our later achievements. I intended you to go down to the grave without knowing the history of your unfortunate parent, but the love of life is strong, and I knew it was only through your filial affection that I could obtain the means of escape. All I require of you, is to visit me this evening, and bring a file concealed on your person, and if you can provide a place of concealment for me "It is lady-but can you bear to know who and what for a few days, until the first heat of pursuit is over, your father is? Are you prepared to find him fallen—my escape is certain." degraded, unworthy to look on you, much less to call you his child?”

"Yes, I am here to learn the history of a father who has never ceased to be dear to my heart. In mercy, tell me what danger hangs over him, and if it is in my power to avert it."

"He is still my father," murmured Genevieve. "I can bear any thing better than this horrible suspense. I am ready to do any thing-every thing for him that lies in my power. Speak-in mercy tell me all you know."

The man slipped one of his hands from the iron ring that confined it, and threw back the hair from his forehead. At the same moment he advanced, so that the light from the solitary window fell on his features. Genevieve uttered one wild, heart-piercing shriek, and sunk nearly insensible on his bosom. In that calm, haughty face, though altered by time, and wasted by

Genevieve listened in bewildered silence. She was too much overwhelmed by the recent discovery to have the power of thought. That father, over whose image she had wept in agonized sorrow, and whose sufferings had inflicted the first severe pang on her heart, was now before her a condemned felon! and she shrunk, with a feeling of dread and horror, from the wretched conviction, that her worst apprehensions were more than realized. Her father did not understand the cause of her silence.

"Do you shrink from assisting me?" he inquired in a stern tone: then softening, he continued, "If so, I can but die."

"Die!" almost shrieked the distracted Genevieve. VOL. III.-48

"Die! when I can save you! No-no-if you do not | she said with touching solemnity, while tears streamed wish to drive me quite mad, do not use such reproachful over her pallid face-"Charles have I ever deceived language. I would-indeed I would, give my life to you?" wipe this stain from your name, or to rescue you from your impending fate."

The unfortunate man again approached her, and drawing her towards him, threw his arm around her form, and said, in a tone softened by emotion

'No, dearest, never."

"Then grant the request I am about to make, without seeking to know its motives. It is dictated by a breaking heart, and must be complied with. Suffer me to leave you for one hour. I intended to have gone "And fallen as he is, you do love your father? Gene- without your knowledge, but you have watched me so vieve, my child, my beautiful, my innocent, this brief closely that I find it impossible. You think me delirimoment repays me for years of suffering. How Ious. I am not. I am as perfectly sane as ever I was have loved you, the heart that has but one object on which to bestow its tenderness, and is as adamant to the rest of the world, can alone feel. You have been the passion of my life: amid all your future life, think of me as one whose best feelings were turned into a fountain of bitterness by the injustice of the world, and who recklessly sought to avenge on his whole species the injuries inflicted by a few individuals.”

Genevieve's sobs rendered it almost impossible to distinguish her reply. So great was the agony of that moment, she felt the impossibility of her wrung heart ever again experiencing so severe a pang. She remembered the necessity of making some arrangements for her father's escape, and after a struggle she overcame her violent emotion sufficient to speak calmly on the measures to be pursued. There was a pavilion in the garden of Mr. Melton, surrounded by a quantity of thick shrubbery. Fortunately, the old gentleman was absent, and the key was in the possession of Genevieve. This was the most secure asylum she could think of for her father, and rapidly describing its situation, she promised to call in the evening with the file, and the next morning at early dawn to meet him in the garden, and admit him into his place of concealment.

"Remember, Genevieve," said her father, "that your husband must know nothing of this until I am safe from pursuit."

in my life, but if you refuse my request it will drive me to madness. In two days I will explain all. You must promise not to follow me, and to make no effort to discover whither I am going."

Melton was convinced by her manner that she was, as she asserted, perfectly conscious of what she was saying, and though perplexed and distressed, he thought her request might have some reference to her father, and he reluctantly consented to comply with it. She arose, and thanking him, prepared to go out. Melton felt a thrill almost of horror run through his heart, as the door closed on her retiring form, and something like a conviction that she was hastening into some unknown danger, came to his mind. So strong was this impression, that he followed her with the intention of recalling his permission, but her movements were too rapid for him: she was already out of sight, and he returned with a heavy heart to count the tedious moments until the limited term of absence had expired. He looked at his watch more than once, and at length becoming impatient of her delay, he arose and threw up a window, hoping to see her returning. The window looked out on the garden, and the faint light of early dawn was beginning to disperse the gloom that enveloped every object. Suddenly he heard a voice directly under the window say—

"We have him now safe enough. The old chap did

"No-it shall be confined to my own breast-but will not think we would so soon track him to his hiding place. not the jailor suspect?"

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I saw him go in that 'ere house, and I'll nab him now, or my name is not Jack Dibdin."

He looked down and saw four men, well armed, stealing cautiously towards the pavilion.

'No," replied Manning. "He has no suspicion of the relation in which we stand to each other. That shall never be known through my agency. He is a friend of my better days, and once in boyhood I con- In another moment the door of the building was ferred an obligation on him which has never been for-thrown open, and he heard a scuffle and a scream. That gotten. He would himself have provided the means wild shriek appeared to freeze every drop of blood in his of my escape, had he dared do so. Now leave me, veins, for he recognized the voice of his wife! He stood Genevieve, and do not fail in your exertions; for on for an instant incapable of moving, but the report of a you alone I depend." pistol roused him, and darting from the room, he ran We pass over the wild anguish of Genevieve. That wildly towards the scene of strife. A man passed him night she did not attempt to sleep: she walked the as he rushed into the pavilion, and he heard him jump floor of her room during its long hours, and to all Mel-over the fence. What a scene was there presented to ton's attempts to draw from her the cause of her the idolizing husband! His wife was supported in the wretchedness, she replied with such a burst of ungo-arms of one of the officers of justice-her hair hangvernable feeling, that he at length desisted, in the belief ing loose over her person, dabbled with the blood that that her mind was affected by illness. Her quick pulse was streaming from her side, and her dress bore many and burning hand convinced him that his conjectures of the same dreadful stains. were right. When he insisted on sending for medical advice, she opposed it with such vehemence that he acquiesced, determined if she was not much better in "Who--who," he franticly exclaimed, as he raised the morning, to attend no longer to her remonstrances. her in his arms, but she was past answering. She was Seeing her in such a state, he could not think of sleep-borne to the house, and surgical assistance immediately ing, and all her entreaties were vain to induce him to endeavor to obtain some rest. As morning approached she became calmer, and taking the hand of her husband,

"Has he escaped ?" she gasped, as Melton rushed towards her.

procured. She lived some hours, and revived sufficiently to explain the late events to her husband. The officers gave the remaining explanation. The escape

Thy touch: Sister and Brother sing sweet songs of bliss: position in the British Parliament, M. Whitbread, cut Farewell, all, all farewell! I'm dying now!"

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