into his eyes, and his voice had become inarticulate from emotion. But the feelings of each were well and mutually understood; for, indeed, the generous enthusiasm of the bard, and the overflowing gratitude of Montchensey, could not be mistaken, so deeply were they respectively imprinted on their features and manner.

It was while these sensations held their exclusive empire over the hearts of both, that they reached the neat but humble abode of Simon Fraser. The good old man was sitting in the porch of his cottage, that he might enjoy the warmth of the morning sun, whilst the honeysuckle gadding luxuriantly along the trellis work over his head, effectually protected him from the scorching influence of its beams. He rose, not without much surprise, at the approach of his guests, for he had little expected to see again beneath his roof the master of Wyeburne Hall..

66

sey,

My worthy Simon," exclaimed Montchen

in answer to a most respectful welcome from the grey-haired minstrel, "I am come hither to offer you my hand as a pledge of returning cordiality, of that unreserved confidence:

indeed, that, until lately, subsisted between us, but which circumstances that ought not, I confess, to have reached you, have unhappily interrupted." Here he paused, apparently exhausted by fatigue both of body and mind, and dropping into a chair, he added in a low tone, "But, as I feel myself, from the recent hurry of my spirits, unequal to the task of explanation, I must refer you to my admirable friend here, who is, I understand, not unknown to you, and who has been, in truth, a principal agent in effecting what we have to communicate. I will now, therefore, merely say, that to receive Hubert, and to protect him from all danger, will be, in future, the objects nearest to my heart."

Tears of delight sparkled in the eyes of Simon Fraser on hearing this declaration, and turning on Shakspeare a look, in which gratitude, curiosity, and admiration, seemed equally mingled, the poet, anxious to relieve what he knew must be a state of painful suspense, immediately entered on the narrative of what had happened, mentioning his interview with Hubert Gray, the occurrences of the preceding night, his conversation with Montchensey that morning, and

his former intimacy with Raymond Neville. "And now, my kind friend," he added as he closed his detail," nothing more is wanting than your testimony to perfect the discovery which we have begun, and from what you have now heard, and the conviction which must necessarily follow as its effect, that the happiness of all parties depends upon the establishment of what we are seeking, I trust you will deem the secrecy to which, I understand, you have hitherto been pledged, as no longer binding We would ask of you, then, in the first place, if Hubert Gray be, or be not, the son of Raymond Neville; and in the second, whether you know if the latter be yet in existence ?"

upon you.

"My honoured Sirs," replied the venerable Fraser, almost overcome by the varied emotions of joy and astonishment which had agitated his bosom whilst Shakspeare was speaking, “pardon the weakness of a fond old man, for indeed the very extraordinary account you have just given, has been almost too much for me to bear. I would it were in my power fully to satisfy your expectations, for I feel, with yourselves, that all

motive or object of concealment, whatever may have been the original necessity, has now passed away. What I have, however, to communicate, though it does not form a direct reply to your questions, will go nigh, I think, to set the matter

at rest.

"It was not many months after the melancholy event which took place at the Hall, in which my honoured patron here was reported to have slain a stranger in a duel; for, as I saw him not previous to the encounter, neither then, nor since, indeed, until this very hour, have I had the smallest suspicion that this person was Raymond Neville; it was, I say, not many months after this event, that one evening, as the dusk was setting in, a man, muffled up in a large wrapping coat, knocked at my cottage door; he had in his arms, and fast asleep, a beautiful child, apparently about four years of age, which, after presenting me with a small packet, he begged leave to commit for a few minutes to the care of my wife. No sooner, however, had she complied with this request, than the man, perceiving me earnestly engaged in reading what he had brought, suddenly darting from the cot

This

tage, disappeared in the gloom, nor could I trace his footsteps for more than an instant. child was Hubert Gray, and the packet, containing a letter, a sum of money, and some clothes, was from my young Lord, as I once used to term him, Master Raymond Neville, who stated therein, that the little boy whom he had sent, and whom he wished me to take care of for some years to come, was the son of a particular friend of his; and that, for reasons which he would one time or other reveal to me, it was his earnest desire, and solemn injunction indeed, that his, Raymond Neville's, name, should not be mentioned in the transaction, nay, that his very existence should be kept a profound secret, enjoining me to this by every tie of gratitude which the remembrance of his father's kindness and protection to myself and family, could enforce. He further added, that remittances would be regularly forwarded to me through a banker's hands in London, and that, through the same channel, I was, from time to time, to communicate intelligence as to the welfare of Hubert Gray, and, (under a fictitious name for her,) which he then mentioned, what