voice of deep emotion,-" Miscreant! why hast thou struck this maiden ?"

A savage hoarse cry escaped the lips of Hernandez. His eyes, unusually deep sunk, now started from their orbits; his hands were thrust forward, as if by an instinctive movement to put aside or seize some object before him; he panted with painful heaving of the breast, and in a voice scarcely human, uttered, "Oh! heil! whom then have I struck?"

His look was bloodthirsty, he scowled with rage, his eyes flashed fire, like the tiger disappointed of his prey,-from the dead he looked at the living,—his hand rapidly searched his bosom for the fatal knife,—he bit his lips at finding it gone, and shook his clenched fist at Donna Maria.

"Have

I then been deceived? It was not her I would have killed, it was you." Turning to the persons that surrounded him. "Conduct me to prison, I am ready to meet my fate. Lead the "poor child" to his dungeon. Is he not a man now? has he not taken his rank in society by the commission of a crime? You will now judge him capable by that act of forming a portion of the social body of society. Although you, proud woman, refused him the favour of a dance, considering him a boy,—a mere child."

"Monster!" exclaimed Donna Maria, as she shuddered at his words.

He spoke no more, but placing himself directly opposite Maria, crossed his arms, and with the magic force of a serpent's fascination, fixed his eyes upon her pallid face. She remained mute,-transfixed with horror, and like a motionless statue.

Don Alphonso and the ladies in attendance carried her away in their arms, -she was rigid and cold as marble, yet her heart quickly palpitated. Her trance was long and dangerous; it at length yielded to medical treatment, but great doubt existed if Maria's mind had not received an incurable shock. For many days nothing presented itself to her imagination but the phantom of Hernandez, with a bloody knife aimed at her breast; by night and day her anguish was intolerable. Extreme quiet and care at length softened these paroxysms, and she sank into a death-like sleep. The physician pronounced it to be the crisis of her disorder.

Hernandez was closely imprisoned ;-a day appointed for his trial. Donna Maria, now restored to health, was compelled to attend the trial; it was in vain she supplicated to be spared that pain-the law was imperative. But she had now a protector-a support, that gave her strength and courage,— she had a husband.

Every one knows how slow justice is in Spain; how it is retarded by unnecessary forms, and how many tribunals of appeal are open to the criminal if he has gold to plead his cause.

Seven months had elapsed since the murder was committed, before the final day of trial was appointed.

Hernandez was proved to be the natural son of the Duke of Villaflor, by whom a large fortune was bestowed upon him. He had been educated from infancy by a corrupt tutor, who pandered to all his youthful vices. His education was consequently grossly neglected; and his violent passions unsubdued by example or precept, exhibited themselves in a thousand frightful shapes, giving evidence of a wretched career through after life. On the death of his father, the guardians appointed over him, perceiving the danger of his position, placed him at the College of Salamanca, under the strictest surveillance of prudent masters. This restraint poured fire upon the flame, and he had not been many months so situated before a fellow student, who had given him some offence, either real or imaginary, was killed in a duel by him. The matter being duly investigated, nothing was brought home to Hernandez that could implicate him in any unfair act or premeditated malice towards his dead companion, and the only punishment was expulsion from the college.

"For what purpose did you come to Seville, prisoner?" asked the judge. "To amuse myself to seek for pleasure, and to spend my fortune. I merely proposed staying a few days on my road to Madrid."

"What induced you to remain longer than you at first proposed ?”

"How old are you?"

"I shall be fifteen in two months."

"What determined your stay after you had seen the person you allude to ?"

"I shall not answer that question."

"What is the female's name?"

"Donna Maria de Ribeira," replied Hernandez, in a firm voice, and looking upon her with his basilisk's eyes.

66

Speak of that lady, prisoner, with becoming respect, as the wife of the Count de Benevente," observed the judge.

66

My respect for the noble countess has already been proved; but I pray the court to decide my fate, and that quickly; for if you have the right of putting me to death, you have not that of imposing a greater torture than I have experienced during seven months. Decide, therefore, quickly, either life or death."

He refused the assistance of counsel. His defence, if it could be so called, was simple and laconic,-he never denied the act of murder, merely stating that it was not his wish to have injured Donna Niévés. As to his intentions

towards Donna Maria, they were clearly expressed-it was her death he had contemplated.

The tribunal, after a long consideration of the prisoner's age, and some extenuating circumstances, pronounced the sentence of seven years imprison ment in the Castle of Xativa, and banishment from Spain should the prisoner survive that period. The expenses attending his trial and consequent incarceration to be defrayed out of Hernandez's property on his attaining his majority, and one half of the remaining amount to be given to the religious houses of Seville, under trust of such guardians as the king might be pleased to appoint for the execution of the said sentence; Hernandez being no longer amenable to any guardianship but that of the law of condemned

criminals.

"I should have much preferred death," said Hernandez, as he unmoved heard this judgment delivered; there is, however, some consolation in it, for when the gates of the tomb are closed, they form an eternal barrier between its inmates and the world. But when the doors of a prison are shut, Time and Hope are keys that can unlock them. Countess of Benavente, if I live, we shall meet again, under circumstances which may induce you to grant the favour of dancing El Rey don Morso with a man, though you have refused to do so with a child. Remember well the 15th of September, seven years hence. I shall not forget my promise-If I live we shall meet again." This was rapidly spoken in an under tone as he was passing near to where the count and his wife were seated, amongst other witnesses.

"What is the wretch saying to you, my love, that you turn so pale?"

She pressed Alphonso's hands, and answered with an agitated voice, “The murderer says we shall meet again this time seven years. Oh! Holy Mother forbid it."

"It is an idle threat, my beloved Maria, banish it for ever from your remembrance. The monster never more can disturb your happiness." "Heaven in its mercy grant your words may prove true, Alphonso." (To be concluded.)

TRUSTING LOVE.

If hitherto we have not said we loved,
Yet hath the heart of each declared its love,
By all the tokens wherein love delights.
We heretofore have trusted in each other,
Too wholly have we trusted, to have need
Of words or vows, pledges or protestations.
Let not such trust be hastily dissolved,

THE PHILOSOPHER AND HIS PUPIL.

A TALE.

(Continued from page 13.)

Poor Adrienne! had she not one friend, says the reader, to save her from the effects of false praise? Yes, she had one; and that one, had he been allowed to have taken part in her education, would have corrected, if he could not have eradicated those faults which had such a fatal influence on her after life. This was the Abbé De la Villetti: he had heard the exaggerated praises bestowed on the good action of Adrienne; he had been sensibly touched with it, and as he bestowed his benediction upon her, had prayed that Heaven would continue to her those happy dispositions. The task of making her feel that her action had been most extravagantly praised, was to the mild abbé a most unpleasant one; but he conceived that duty required it from him, and to the voice of duty he was never deaf. He seized the opportunity of retracing the particulars as if without design, and of placing the part that Louise had taken in a strong point of view. "With her slender pocket-money," said he, “she has made a real sacrifice ; for ten louis are to her a little fortune: and she would have made a still greater one had it been necessary, for she could not have paid for a nurse without subjecting herself to great privations."

Adrienne's naturally candid mind directly drew the inference that he wished. "It is Louise," cried she, with vivacity," that is truly generous. Yes, I see it now; she is far, far my superior. But how is it, Monsieur l'Abbé, have we all been blind, that every one has spoken of me, and nobody has thought of Louise ?"

"All is right," thought the good abbé ; "her heart is yet incorrupt." But it was not an easy matter to answer her question, for it was not merely as a rich heiress that she attracted attention from Louise; she would have won it had they been of equal rank: her dazzling beauty, her lively wit, and the thousand graces of her deportment, threw her estimable but unpretending friend completely into the shade. The abbé could not tell her this; and as he would not give a false reason, he contented himself with praising the resolution she averred, to make every body do justice to the merit of Louise.

She succeeded only with de Villars, whose judgment, though warped for the moment by his long unbounded affection for his pupil, was too correct AUGUST, 1845.

not to estimate Louise's character at its just value. As to that amiable girl herself, it appeared to her the most natural thing in the world, that every body should speak and think only of Adrienne; of whom she was equally fond and proud.

The fêtes in honour of the peace lasted for eight days, and during that time the young couple remained at the chateau. On the ninth morning, the marquis took de Villars aside. "I have waited," said he, "till our guests were gone, to give my family a pleasure which even your philosophy will approve; but I want you to aid me in putting my plan in execution. Come in an hour with the ladies to the spot where the poor Marie had so nearly terminated her life: you will find there something that will please you ; but say nothing to the women, and let your coming appear accidental."

Neither the Comtesse nor Mademoiselle d'Anvers were inclined to walk; the preceptor therefore set out with Adrienne and Louise, and directed his steps as if by chance towards the scene of their late adventure; they could not enter the wood without recalling it to their minds. "Oh,” cried Adrienne, “it was in this very spot that I heard those groans which made me shudder with terror." As she spoke, the sprightly sounds of rural music burst upon their ears; they ran eagerly forward, and in sight of the spot where the courageous Louise had saved the life of Marie, they saw a verdant arch, which served as the entrance to a newly planted orchard; there the marquis holding the hand of Marie, and the baroness that of Pierre, met The bridegroom hastened to place upon the head of Adrienne a crown of roses, and the bride paid a similar homage to Louise; begging of them at the same time to enter their habitation, that they might enjoy the sight of the happiness they had caused.

them.

In fact the marquis had a small house at the foot of the bridge; he had had it privately fitted up for their reception; every thing necessary for the business of a carpenter was placed in it, and in the little farm yard adjoining was a good cow, and plenty of poultry. He had added to his gift the piece of ground which reached from the house to the spot that had nearly been so fatal to the pretty bride. What a treasure for the new-married couple, who thus saw their hopes and wishes not only crowned, but surpassed. The simple and touching expression of their huppiness and gratitude enchanted the young people; even the philosopher was moved, and the marqius forgot for one moment the portfolio, that great object of his life; as to the baher heart was too corrupt to be capable of tasting a pleasure as pure as it was delicious; but she had sufficient art to feign an entire participation in the general satisfaction.

roness,

De Villars feared, and justly, that the denouement of Marie's adventures