The passage we are about to quote has teen already

alluded to : it is the scene in which the divorced wife, ruined and betrayed, though married to her seducer—who is himself likewise thrown out of society, and become a gambler at Paris- is sitting up ex- pecting her husband's return from the gaming-table.

Vavasor Kendal was an expert player. Like other frigid egotists, his head and heart were always at leisure ; and his successes had been the means, on more than one occasion, of extending his means of disgraceful enjoyment. At last, however, his career lay on the verge of a precipice; for, playing at a stake beyond the limit of his fortune, a single faltering step might at any hour pre- cipitate him into an abyss of shame and ruin. Amelia was often tempted to doubt whether she had more cause to dread that intoxication of triumph. which . induced him to still further excesses, or the reverses tending to aggravate the violence of temper to which she was an habitual victim. The fluctuating for- tunes of the gamester,—his losses or gaius,—were equally a source of suffering to herself. But the carnival was drawing to a close; she soon began ardently to wish that his sister might grow weary of the increasing dulness of the French capital, and migrate, among other swallows of the season, in search of new pleasures. Long had she been in expectation of an announcement to this effect, when one night,—a cold cheerless night in March,—Vavasor exceeded even his or- , dinary period .of absence. The habitually dissolute of Paris rarely keep. late hours. Vice does not form with them, as with the English rout:, an occasional excess, but is consistent and regular in its habits. Captain Kendal usually re- turned home between two and three ; and Amelii was accustomed to sit up, and by her oWn services lighten the labours of their scanty establishment. It was she, the invalid, who was careful to keep up light and fire for the tyrant of the domestic hearth.

But on this occasion two o'clock came,—three, four, five o'clock,—and no Va- vasor. Hour after hour she listened to the chime of the gaudy tune-piece corating their shabby apartment ; and while the night advanced,. in all its chilly, lonely, comfortless protraction, shivered as she added new legs to the dying em- bers, and as she hoped or despaired of his return, alternately replaced the veil- leuse by candles, the candles by a veilleuse. She had already assumed her night apparel ; and after wandering like an unquiet spirit from her own apartment to the sitting-room and back again, a thousand, thousand times,—after reclining her exhausted frame and throbbing head against the door of the ante-room, in the trust of catching the sound of throbbing well-known step upon the stairs, she threw herself down on the sofa for a moment's respite. But in a few minutes she started up again. Surely that was his voice, which reached her from some passenger in the street below,—some passenger hu;nming an air from the new -opera, according to Vavasor's custom, when returning flushed with the excite- ment of success I Again and hurriedly did she prepare for his reception,—again place his chair by the fire, his slippers beside it • and stand with a beating heart - and suspended breath, to await the entrance of the truant. But, no ! it was not him. The wanderer had hastened onwards to some happier home. The street was quiet again. She would take a book and strive to beguile the tediousness

• of suspense.

Dreary indeed is that hour of the twenty-four which may be said to afford the true division between night and day ; when even the latest watcher has retired to rest, while the earliest artisans scarcely yet rouse themselves for the renewal of their struggle with existence,—when even the studious, the sorrowing, and the dissipated, close their overwearied eves,--and when those who "do lack, and suffer hunger," enjoy that Heaven-vouchsafed stupor affording the only interim to their consciousness of want and wo. The winds whistle more shrilly in the stillness of that lonely hour. Man and beast are in their lair, and unearthly things alone seem stirring; the good genius glides with a holy and hallowing in- Iluence through the tranquil dwelling of virtue; the demon grins and gibbers in the deserted but reeking chambers of the vicious. Even sorrow has phantoms • of its own; and when Amelia found herself a lonely watcher in the stillness of night, the kind voice of old Allanby—the voice that was wont of yore to bid her speak her bosom's wish that it might he granted—often seemed creeping into the inmost cell of her ear. She could fancy him close beside her—taunting her—touching her—till, starting from her seat, she strove to shake off the hi- deous delusion. Sometimes the soft cordial tones of her mother—her mother, who was in the grave—seemed again dispensing these lessons of virtue of which her own life had afforded so pure an example; sometimes the playful caresses of her boys seemed to grow warm upon her lips—around her neck. Yes ! she could hear them, see them : little Charles, who, in his very babyhood, had been accustomed to uplift his tiny arm in championship of his own dear mother ; Digby, the soft, tender, loving infant, whose every look was a smile, whose every action an endearment ! And now they appeared to pass before her as strangers; changed—matured—enlightened ; without one word of fondness—one gesture of recognition !

From such meditations, how horrible to start up amid the dreariness of night, nor find a human heart unto which to appeal for comfort,—a human voice from which to claim reply in annihilation cf the spell that transfixed her mind ! The cold cheerless room, the flickering light, the desolation that was around her,

struck more heavily than ever on her heart. " Oh ! that this were an omen !" she cried, with clasping hands, as she listened to the howling of the wind upon the lofty staircase leading to their remote apartments. Drawing closer over her bosom the wrapper by which she attempted to exclude the piercing night-air, Amelia smiled at the thought of the chilliness of the grave—of the grave, where the heart beats not, and the fixed glassy eye is'incapable of tears.

" I shall lie among the multitudes of a strange country," faltered she ; " there will be no one to point out with officious finger to any sons the dishonoured resting-place of their mother,—their divoreecrmother ! Vavasor will be freed from his bondage—free to choose anew, and commence a more auspicious career. But for me lie might have been a different being. It is I who have hardened his heart and seared his mind. And oh ! may Heaven in its mercy touch them,—that he may deal gently with me during the last short remnant of our union !"

A harsh sound interrupted her contemplations; the grating of his key in the i outer door —of his step in the ante-room. Mechanically she rose, and advanded to meet the truant who had kept her watching,—who had so often kept her watching,—so often been forgiven. A momentary glimpse of his countenance convinced her that he was in no mood even to wish for indulgence. His brow was black—his eyes red and glaring. After a terrified pause, she tendered him her assistance to unclasp his cloak; but with a deadly execration he rejected the offer.

" Are the servants up," said he sullenly. " Not yet." " So much the better ! I must be off before they are on the move." " Off? Vavasor !—for the love of Heaven—" " Be still ! Do not harass me with your nonsense. I was a fool to come here at all; only it may be necessary for you to know explicitly to what you may trust for the future."

Amelia sank stupified into a chair.

" In one word, I am a ruined man. To-night's losses have made me as hopeless as I ought to have been long ago. I have lost—hut no matter !—I know I played like a fool. What is to be expected from a miserable dog like me, who has thrown away his prospects, and is harassed with all sorts of cares and annoyances? No matter !—To ;morrow the thing will be blown ; and be- fore my creditors get wind of the business I shall be half way to Brussels."

‘".ro Brussels?" filtered Amelia.

" Of course it is out of the question hampering myself with companions of any kind at such a moment. Besides, my sister has only afforded me the means of getting out of the scrape, on condition that you return to England to your family.- I have no longer the power of maintaining you; but if you are inclined to cooperate in the only plan that can save us both from starving, Sophia will secure you an allowance of fifty or sixty pounds a year."

Amelia was silent.

" If not, you must take your chance; for I can do nothing- further for you. Fo: Heaven's sake don't treat me with a scene; for I have only a few minutes to pack up my property ! The nacre is waiting; there is not a moment to lose.

Well, Amelia! what do you say want an answer. Do you or do you not choose to go to England ?" Amelia made an affirmative movement ; she could not utter a syllable ; and Vavasar instantly passed into his own room to make his preparations for imme- diate flight. She never knew in what manner he took his last leave of her. When the servants proceeded to their occupations on the following morning, they found her insensible on the ground; but when restored to consciousness, the continued absence of her husband and a note of five hundred francs which he had deposited in her work-box for the purpose of enabling her to quit Paris, served to prove that the dreadful impression on her mind was not a mere delu- sion of the night. Alas ! she was soon compelled to admit that she had looked upon him for the last time.