"By the way, I trust we shall see you among our guests to-morrow -none will be more welcome." The blood rushed over Vavasour's dark cheek, and then as suddenly faded away, save in one round, bright hectic spot, in which a skilful observer might have read all the peril of the raging passions within. "To-morrow!" said he, with a hollow voice; "be it so I will not fail-trust me, I will not." He waved his hand; Bayntun smiled disdainfully; Vavasour noted the smile, and rode away. That bitter invitation, that look of scorn, had turned his heart into iron. After his departure, Clara bursting into tears, reproached Bayntun for the insolence of his indiscretion. It was long before she could be pacified. She felt for her unfortunate lover-she would have given worlds to have saved him an insult she knew he must have felt so deeply. The instant she reached home, she even wrote to Vavasour an apology, and mingled with it many kind and affectionate expressions. She gave the note to her maid to have it sent to her former lover. The groom who took it neglected to set off till night. At that time the roads were infested with highwaymen; the man was robbed and tied to a tree, where he remained till the next morning; nor was he released time enough to return home, or proceed to Vavasour's prior to the ceremony. So does link after link eke out the chain of fatality. That night, as Clara sat alone before she retired to rest-her lover's splendid bridal presents before her on the table-her maid expatiating on their beauty, herself gratified by their magnificence, she happened to raise her eyes, and looking on the opposite glass, she turned suddenly pale, and gasped for breath. "What ails you, Madam?" cried the attendant in alarm. "Oh! Margaret," said Clara, faintly, "as I looked in that dim old glass, I appeared exactly as I seemed on that horrid night, when the Moor raised up my resemblance-and see, the pall that ang over me is there now!" The maid hastened to show the superstitious girl that the pall was but the reflection of the heavy and sombre curtain on the opposite bed, that had been accidentally drawn aside towards the foot. Clara was satisfied, but made the maid drag her own little couch nearer to her mistress's bed before she retired to rest. You will imagine that the attendant did not let slip so favourable an opportunity of insinuating a bridal jest. The next day was uncommonly bright and clear; the sun shone out; the birds sang; all nature seemed in unison with that rite which custom always honours with joy, though experience usually condemns its celebrators to disappointment. In a numerous and blithe cavalcade, the marriage procession swept to the old-fashioned church where the ceremony was to be performed. It was distant only one mile from the hall. The country around was flat and open, and just as they arrived within sight of the church, a horseman, on a well-known black steed, was perceived by the whole company, riding towards them across the broad and desolate plain, at full speed. As the bride's carriage stopped at the church-door, the horseman had reached the procession; he dismounted; his horse stood quiet and motionless by the little gate of the church-yard. Vavasour's hand-for need we say who was the horseman-was the first stretched to assist Clara (who was with her bridemaids) to descend from the carriage. She trembled as she saw him, and looked round for Bayntun-his carriage had not yet arrived. "Fear not," said Vavasour, with a smile, which re-assured and deceived her; "you have bid me to your bridals as a friend-as a friend I attend them. Will you reject my services, even in a form, a common courtesy?" "Nay," said one of the bridemaids, laughing, "if the bridegroom cannot manage to be in time, you serve him right to take the arm of another;" and she whispered Clara that it would only seem strange to play the prude. Clara therefore, collecting her spirits, and with an air in which distress was mingled with dignity, descended the steps of the carriage, just lightly touching Vavasour's arm as he extended it. They were in the church-yard. The bells rang merrily and loud; and with their peal, mingled the laughter and voices of the cavalcade behind. Vavasour cast one glance round him, then fixed his dark and piercing eye upon the bride. "You forsook me, Clara, and I was wretched you insulted me, I am avenged!" With these words he plunged a knife, that he had worn concealed, into her bosom she fell upon the greenrank mound of the dead! "Behold!" cried he, raising his voice till its deep and hollow tone pierced to the very aisle of the church, and repeated by a dreary echo, smote the ear of the priest as he stood prepared by the altar-"behold, Clara, your bridal bed!" Then brandishing his knife, all streaming with the heart's blood of the bride, he strode away fiercely through the midst of the guests, who scattered themselves, panic-stricken, on either side. With a bound, he cleared the slight fence round the church-yard, and as he gained his steed, Bayntun, who, with all his vices, was at least brave, grasped him by the arm. "Fiend!" he cried, " you shall not escape. here!-seize the murderer!" What ho-help Twice Vavasour raised his armed hand. "No," he muttered the second time, "I strike only for justice. Thou didst as I would have done-thou didst not, at least, deceive me-thou art sufficiently punished!" Then dashing off the weaker grasp of his rival, he sprang on his horse, and made across the country in the same direction as that in which he had arrived at the fatal spot. Clara was already lifeless; the guests gathered around-the false uncle, the plotting bridegroom. Even at that awful hour, the two most connected to the dying woman thought only of themselves. "So perishes my hope of this alliance, so fades my dream of ambition!" muttered Tregothick. "Had the stroke been delayed but another hour, these lands had been mine," thought the lover "I am a ruined man!" At the side of his bed-ridden mother Vavasour appeared abruptly. "Give me your blessing, mother! Quick!-quick!-the blood hounds are after me! Quick, if you wish not for my death!" "Bless thee, Walter! thou hast been a good son to me. But what means "Ha! ha!" shouted Vavasour, lifting up his bloody hands. "Enough!-enough!" He flung from the chamber-threw himself again on his panting steed-baffled the hot pursuit of the avengersin disguise and by stealth he reached Scotland, and claimed protection from the Chief of G-, with whose blood he bore connexion. Some years afterwards, the name of Walter Vavasour was found among the list of slain, in the cause of Charles Edward at the battle of Culloden. THE LOVED-ONE'S SLUMBER. THE struggling beams of winter's sun While silently, beloved one, I hung enamour'd o'er thy rest. Faint, and more faint breath'd forth the sighs, While dreamily those rebel eyes Strove yet to turn and answer mine. 'Vain strife! soon fading, ray by ray, The wearied eyelids closed above, The charm that sooth'd thine early woes, Oh! how I loved thee then! to me, Of Summer's incense-laden breeze- I only felt I loved thee well! N. THE PROGRESS OF REFORM. BY AN OLD REFORMER.* Anecdotes of Reformers.† In the latter end of the year 1793, Muir, Palmer, Margarot, and Skirving were conveyed by sea from Scotland to England, and subsequently, in the Surprise transport, with other convicts, to Botany Bay. A subscription having been entered into among the friends of Reform, they were accommodated as cabin passengers on the voyage. Very shortly after the political exiles had sailed for their place of banishment, a fresh prosecution, of the most awful character, was commenced by Government against another class of democrats, who had rendered themselves conspicuous in London. The leading members of the Corresponding Society, and the Society for Constitutional Information, were apprehended, and after examination by the Privy Council, committed to the Tower on the charge of treason. A few days before his apprehension, I had delivered a letter to Hardy that I had brought from Margarot, and as I conceived that letter-which might have mentioned me-would be found among the papers examined by the Council, I was not without fear that I also might be examined. I was, however, entirely unconnected with the proceedings of the parties, and unacquainted with the persons of any, except Horne Tooke, whom, like Hardy, I had met with only once, and Jeremiah Joyce, in whose company I had happened to be mixed three or four times. One of the occasions on which I had met with Joyce was at the table of Sharpe, the celebrated engraver, and who, as well as Joyce, was a mem ber of the Society for Constitutional Information. Sharpe, who had been one of the visitors of Muir, while the latter was in Newgate, had undertaken to engrave Muir's portrait, which I was to procure-and he, in consequence, invited me to dine with a party of his political friends. Not less than ten or a dozen were present at the dinner; but the Secretary of the Society, Mr. Adams, who had been invited, did not join the party until dinner was over, and three or four glasses of wine had been drunk. The arrival of Adams was hailed with acclamation; for poor Adams, having been dismissed from his clerkship in Somerset House on account of being Secretary to a Democratic Society, was respected by his companions as a martyr. The circumstance of his not joining the party until their spirits were exhilarated and their conversation free, did not excite the least suspicion in their minds; but that, no doubt, was a circumstance he had calculated to turn to his advantage. Adams was soon to appear before them in a different light. He had been dismissed from Somerset House to give him the semblance of a man decried and persecuted by Government, while they were actually employing him to report to them the proceedings of the Society in which he continued secretary. Hardy was the first of the suspected persons, and, without any warning, was, with all his papers, taken into custody. The others who were arrested being apprised of his situation, if they apprehended a similar fate, had time to destroy such of their papers as they might imagine would be deemed obnoxious. Joyce, with whom I afterwards became intimate, and for whom I never ceased while he lived to entertain respect, informed me of two or three remarkable incidents attendant on his apprehension. He said that, being invited with some other of his political friends to dine with a fellow-member in Spital-square, he had occasion to write to that gentleman, to inquire whether every thing would be ready by a certain day? This inquiry, couched in a phrase deemed ambiguous, having come to the knowledge of Government, Joyce believed to have communicated to them the alarm that some popular explosion was on the eve of bursting, whereas nothing more was meant than to urge the member in question to be Continued from page 395. The author of these papers enters into a minute detail of the subsequent adventures of Muir-but as the particulars of his eventful life have been recently published --and as they bear but slightly upon the subject of Reform-it has been considered expedient to omit the account. ready with some papers he had undertaken to prepare. Before the day alluded to arrived, the whole party were taken into custody. Joyce stated, that in the morning of the day on which he was arrested he was residing in the town-house of Lord Stanhope, to whose sons he was tutor. He was in the act of shaving himself, when a King's messenger was introduced into his room, and told him that he had a warrant to take him into custody. He had nerve sufficiently strong to complete the operation in which he had been engaged, and then proceeded to accompany the messenger to his house, in one of the streets between the Strand and the Thames. Immediately after he and his political friends had undergone the examinations which the Privy Council deemed necessary, they were removed to the Tower, and kept in the constant custody of a warder, without being allowed to communicate with each other, or with any of their private friends. Still, Joyce said, it was not until he was served with a copy of his indictment that he felt alarm. Then, he acknowledged, he began to be in fear, on account of the vague and general terms in which the charges were alleged. Even Horne Tooke, firm and tried as his mind was, was not at that period free from apprehension. He took the precaution to alienate his property, lest the impending process should have an unfavourable issue. The individuals implicated in the alleged treason were twelve, of whom eleven were in custody-Hardy, Horne Tooke, and Thelwall were reckoned the prominent parties. Among the others, were Joyce, already described; Kidd, a barrister; Richter, an engraver; and Holcroft, the dramatic writer. Holcroft was the person who had remained at large; but he voluntarily surrendered himself in court on the day of arraignment, and in spite of the judicial officers, who made some formal objections to his surrender, as being without proof of identity, he bravely determined to try the awful issue of the prosecution along with his companions. The arraignment took place at the Old Bailey, in the latter end of October 1794, after which the accused were confined in Newgate, to be in readiness to take their trials. Those who had been arrested, had remained prisoners in the Tower from the middle of the preceding May. The number and respectability of the accused; the pre-eminent talents of one of them, and the bearings of the investigation on the feelings and fortunes of the friends of freedom generally, gave an interest to the proceedings far exceeding any experienced on former trials in the memory of man. The eyes and ears of the whole nation were directed towards the Old Bailey when the Attorney-General, the present Lord Eldon, made his opening speech on the trial of Hardy, the delivery of which extended to no less than nine hours. Hardy's defence was undertaken by Erskine; and never were the exertions of counsel, in zeal, skill, ability, or splendid eloquence, surpassed by those of the honourable advocate on this occasion. The evidence for the prosecution rested on printed and manuscript papers, and on witnesses, spies of the Crown. The trial lasted several days, during which the public waited for the result with breathless anxiety. Between four and five o'clock, in one of the heaviest rains of the gloomy season, the 5th of November, I was walking along the eastern end of Fleet-street, when I perceived a hackney-coach driving down Ludgate-hill, with several men who had clung behind it, and others running by its side. I conceived at once that Hardy was within it, and was in a few moments convinced by the crowd, that had rushed through Fleet-lane to proclaim the tidings. The populace, during the trial, had entered into the proceedings with considerable spirit. Every evening, the carriage in which Erskine and his colleague Gibbs were conveyed, was drawn by the people from the Old Bailey to Mr. Erskine's house in Serjeant's-inn. Though the inclemency of the day had prevented a large assemblage congregating near the Sessions House, the news of Hardy's acquittal spread through the metropolis with electrical rapidity. The general joy it diffused has seldom or ever been exceeded; it was as heartfelt as extensive; every liberallyminded man appeared to feel himself relieved from some awful danger, and to regard the acquittal of Hardy as the liberation of himself. This feeling was founded, not only on reason but on facts, which time very soon developed. Had Hardy and his associates been convicted, it was, shortly after their trials, under |