a proof of her guilt. You here, Madam,' said I, ' how did you come ? and why ? Who told you that I might be here before you ? Hope notShe interrupted me by ringing the bell violently ; the hostess came. Mary would have spoken ; I desired her to be silent, and said to the mistress of the hotel, " Did not Lady Osprey pass a night at your house with Sir Ormonde Mandeville ?' The woman hesitated. You told me so,' continued I, are you not certain ?'
Yes, Sir ?'
" And what is the name of this lady ; tell me, is this Lady Osprey ?
" I will speak to her,' said Mary, in a smothered voice. She rose tremblingly, and looking at the hostess said, ' Am I Lady Osprey ?'
"The woman was silent a few moments, seemed uncertain, and at last said, ' No, Madam.'
" This deceit will not answer, Mary,' said I, it is useless ingenuity ; how much have you given this woman ? Si Ormonde gave her a hundred guineas.' " You are not convinced ?' said Mary ; ' well this is all I required. You and this woman must come with me ; your father will take me under your protection .' She seemed to suffer much while speaking. " Let us do as she requires,' said Lord Barodale. The hostess at first refused to accompany us, but Mary, with an energy that astonished me, said, ' You shall !' and immediately directed the postillions to drive to a house, which she described, in Pulteney street. Mary alighted, knocked at the door, and told the servant to beg his mistress to come down for an instant. We were shown into a room, and presently the lady of the house presented herself. She had scarcely entered the room, when the woman with us exclaimed - That is Lady Osprey !' " You are mistaken,' said she, I am Lady Heathstone.' “ No, no,' said our hostess, ' you told me your name yourself that night you came to my inn with Sir Ormonde Mandeville. This young lady,' pointing to Mary, ' was at my house too, and she saw and spoke to you the morning that you left.' " There must be some mistake,' answered Lady Heathstone composedly, what can you mean ?' "I advanced toward her, Sir Ormonde, whom I saw at Messina,' said I, ' might well boast of your skilful policy, nevertheless it fails you to-day ; give up Lady Osprey's name and honor, Madam ! She threw herself on the sofa, and covered her face with her hands as she exclaimed" You saw him at Messina ?" " Let us quit this woman,' said Lord Barodale, in a mournful voice, for Mary had fainted, and not able to recover her we placed her in the chaise half dead, incapable of feeling the joy caused by the discovery of her
innocence. Alas ! what can I tell you more ; she languished for two months, pardoned me, and died of an aneurism brought on by violent emotion . Her father refused to see me again ; I lost my two children, and I had then no tie in the world. I therefore returned to Sicily in hopes of meeting Sir Ormonde, and having the opportunity of demanding satisfaction for the ills his foolishness had brought upon me, and for the unworthy forgery of a name which had tainted the reputation of my wife. He had set out for India with a Government commission . Father Anselmo enabled me to enter the cloister, where I am now residing."
SONG. BY EDWARD J. PORTER. I WATCHED the streamlet flowing ! I marked the young moon's ray, O'er tree and flowret, glowing Bright as with gifts of day ; I listened to the sighing Of night winds gently flying. When essences were dying From withered leaves away. The swift wave brightly glancing, Swept by with ceaseless tone,The bright moon's ray was dancing With rapture all her own,The night-breeze gently stealing, Such soft, sweet tones revealing,"Till all our senses reeling, In ecstacies had flown.
Each wave, each ray, each breathing Have lived their hour, and past ; Succeeding beams are wreathing Each passing wave, each blast : How like the hopes we cherished , When fancy's flowerets flourished, Ere each bright leaflet perished, We thought would all outlast!
TRIBUNE OF THE FLORENCE GALLERY. BY JOHN STERLING, WHERE Venus shuns and more attracts the eye, A goddess chaste, though naked as the sky; Where Raphael's maiden worships in her child A new born Heaven by naught less pure defiled : Where prophets old, in self-oblivion strong, From high walls breathe a wo on human wrong : Where gods and god -like men are imaged round, A nobler band than moves on earthly ground, Bewildered mortals often mutely stare To find how vast a life is that they share.
