Having given directions about the various improvements to be made in my mountainous barony, I rode on horseback to the nearest stage-road, and then travelled rapidly to New York, where I embarked for Liverpool in a packet ship on the fifteenth of June.

But how could I stay a month in London, and not even inquire for my lost Judith? Yet I did so, though I did it with an aching heart. But, although I felt the most anxious curiosity to know her present state, I dreaded to learn it; and although I longed most intensely to see her lovely face once more, yet I shrunk from an interview with one so beloved, when the sight of her, and the living look of those eyes that had awakened unquenchable love in my heart, could only pain me now, and might affect me beyond the power of self-control. To see her as the wife of another, was intolerable-I could not encounter the shock of feeling that such an interview must produce. Nor could I believe that she would meet me now, without the most distressing emotions.

The thought of my going to London, where, as I supposed, my beloved Judith dwelt, kept her dear image more constantly and more vividly present to my mind, than it had been during the two last years of my busy and enterprising life. The renewed habit of meditating on this dear lost one, gave a strange susceptibility to my fancy. Often when I obtained but an imperfect view of some young lady of her size and somewhat like features, I conceived that it was Judith herself, and my heart fluttered as if the notion were not imaginary. Still, when I found myself on the eve of departure, A notable instance of this sort occurred when our and no remnant of business served to divert my thoughts ship was leaving the harbor of New York. We met from the tender theme; my heart began to smite me in the narrows a French ship from Bordeaux. The sorely, for having been so long in London, and at last day was fine, and the passengers were on deck admir- intending to go away, never to return, without even a ing the scenery of the noble bay. The near approach word of inquiry after Judith Bensaddi. She would not of the vessels turned the attention of each party on the have treated me with such cruel neglect, had she known other. I was immediately struck with the appearance that I was so near her dwelling place. I was aware of a lady on the French ship. She was dressed in too, that I must feel exceedingly unhappy, if I left my mourning. Her form and stature first, then her black ardent curiosity unsatisfied, and learnt nothing of her, locks and dark eyes, (as they seemed to me,) reminded when I could so easily gain intelligence. I therefore me of Judith Bensaddi. Her eyes seemed to be directed resolved to call at her father's house in Piccadilly, and towards me individually. The more I looked at her, having obtained whatever intelligence I deemed intethe more did I think her like my Judith. I was so fas-resting, to hasten away from a place that contained an cinated by this apparition, that I forgot to use the tele-object so painfully dear to my heart. scope in my hand, until the vessels were full twenty rods apart. When I directed the instrument towards this interesting object, I could get but a momentary glance of her features; but that glance put me in a tremor, for I saw those lovely dark eyes still fixed upon me, and the whole face was to my conception the face of my lost one. So persuaded was I for some minutes that it could be only she, that I would have returned instantly to the city, if an opportunity had been given me. But before the pilot left us in his boat, I had reasoned myself into doubt, as I soon after did into utter disbelief, of the truth of my impression. "How can I believe (said I to myself) that Judith of London, married no doubt and settled in her native country, should be just now landing at New York in a French ship from Bordeaux ?" Thus I soon got rid of the agitation produced by the strange lady. By the end of the voyage I ceased to think of the circumstance.

On my arrival in London, I applied myself instantly to the business on which I had come. I called on the officers of several mining companies and exhibited my documents. I advertised the sale of my gold mine in three of the principal journals. My papers and statements were authenticated by two agents, and an American gentleman of science who had seen the mine and knew my character. Thus I was able to give purchasers the most ample assurance that all was right. Bidders manifested a high spirit of competition, and ran up the price to the unexpected sum of twenty-five thousand pounds sterling, equivalent to one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.

Having thus successfully concluded my chief business, I spent a few days in making purchases of books, scientific apparatus, and various other articles, for myself or for the female academy. I was then prepared to leave London for Paris.

VOL. V.-82

I had brought with me a memorandum which Judith gave me in Philadelphia, containing an exact description of the situation and appearance of her father's house. Guided by this, I found the house without difficulty. Just as I had satisfied myself that there was no mistake, and was approaching the door, I was startled by seeing a young gentleman come out with an elegantly dressed lady of Judith's size. A cold shudder ran through my nerves, when I conceived that this might be Judith and her husband. But I was soon relieved by a sight of the lady's blue eyes and light hair. When they had gone, I stepped up to the door, and to my astonishment read upon the knocker the name-not of Nathan Bensaddi-but of Sir David Monteith. Yet this must be the very house described in the memorandum-remarkable in its appearance, and one of the most magnificent on this splendid street.

Presently I knocked and was admitted into the hall. From the porter I learned that Sir David Monteith had occupied the house but a few months, and that the previous occupant was a Jew named Bensaddi, as well as the porter could remember. I sent in my card to Sir David, requesting the favor of a brief interview. After I had waited ten minutes, I was ushered into a parlor, where I met a brawny red haired gentleman, who bowed with haughty coldness, and stood before me as if to signify, "What is your business, sir?" I took the hint and instantly inquired, "Have I the honor to speak to Sir David Monteith ?" "You have,"-and another cold bow. "I came to this house, sir, expecting to find it occupied by Mr. Bensaddi, the banker. I desired to see some of his family with whom I became acquainted two or three years ago in America. Being a stranger in the city, I would take it as a favor if you would give me such information of him or his family, as might enable me to find them."

The cold haughtiness of Sir David relaxed imme-1 When the baronet thus solemnly confirmed the diately; he saw that I was not a designing nor an idle doleful intelligence, I groaned-I gasped for breathintruder. He asked me politely to be seated, and began my eyes grew dim-my ears tingled-and I was sinking to tell me several things in answer to my inquiries, into a swoon, when Sir David observing my situation, until he gave me the intelligence, of which the follow-sprang up and brought a glass of water, some of which ing statement expresses the substance. he sprinkled on my face, and the rest he gave me to

"I will with pleasure give what information I possess, drink. This timely application revived me, and I grarespecting Mr. Bensaddi and his family. It is a mourn-dually recovered the faculty of speech. I then felt it ful story. I never knew any of his family, but I was incumbent on me to explain the cause of my deep emopersonally acquainted with him in his character of tion at the news of my Judith's sad fate. I gave him, banker. About two years ago I had some claims on therefore, a succinct account of my acquaintance with him, and hearing at Edinburgh, where I then lived, some her, including the chief incidents of our mournful love alarming accounts of his losses, I hastened to London story. He was so interested by the narrative, that he to see him. He had lost heavy sums by failures of called in his lady and a beautiful blue-eyed daughter of houses indebted to him; but he so well satisfied me of eighteen, and after presenting me to them, and explainhis safety, that I not only left what I had before in his ing the object of my call at the house, he requested me hands, but increased the deposit to a considerable to repeat my story to them. I did so, and went more amount. No banker in the kingdom had more of the fully into the particulars. I spoke with a natural public confidence, both in respect to his personal up- pathos, prompted by my feelings, and so affected the rightness and his sound condition as a banker. He ladies, that they wept at my story, and continued to seemed to have completely recovered from the shock, shed tears for several minutes after I had concluded. when about a year ago, I was astonished to learn his This sympathy on their part, unsealed the fountains of sudden and total bankruptcy. This catastrophe was my own tears, and I uttered my lamentations with a brought about by one of the most artfully contrived freedom, which nothing but the tears of my auditors frauds, of two as nefarious villains as ever deserved a could have justified in a stranger like myself. After halter. The one of these was old Levi, a Jew, whom our feelings had subsided a little, I rose to take my he had imprudently trusted too far as an agent, and leave; but they pressed me to stay and spend the evelately as a small partner in the bank. This old villain ning with them. combined with the other, who was no less than the sonin-law of Bensaddi himself. His name is Branniganhe is an Irishman-a smooth-tongued hypocrite, who imposed on Miss Bensaddi by the most lamb-like airs, until he made her his wife. After he had drawn what he could from Bensaddi in the way of dowry, and was admitted as a partner in the bank, he joined Levi, and by embezzlement and other villainous manœuvres, which have never been fully unfolded, they got most of Bensaddi's funds into their clutches, and then left him to meet all the demands of the creditors. So vast was the sum which they embezzled, that on settlement the remaining assets were found sufficient to pay the honest creditors only twelve shillings in the pound. Now Bensaddi's amiable daughter came forward, and did an act which deserves to be engraven forever on brass and marble. She had a large fortune left her by an uncle. This, I presume, she retained in her own hands by the marriage settlement; for, although she was neither legally nor morally bound to pay her father's debts, yet she promptly came forward, and at the expense of her whole fortune, paid up all just claims to the uttermost farthing; saying that she would rather labor for her daily bread, than see her father's creditors go unpaid. She separated from her villainous husband, I infer-yet I do not know the particulars-however, when I came here to reside, about four months ago, I heard with sorrow, that she had gone in bad health to the south of France, along with her father, whose health was also very low; and about two months ago, I was grieved to learn, that after burying her unfortunate parent, she died of a broken heart, and was laid by her father's side."

Here my feelings overcame me, and I exclaimed, "Dead! Did you say that Judith Bensaddi is dead ?” "You mean Mrs. Brannigan, I presume. I grieve to say that she is unquestionably in her grave. I saw the fact announced in the papers."

I staid several hours. Lady Monteith added some particulars that she had heard respecting the Bensaddi family and their misfortunes-all going to confirm my belief, that the hapless Judith had married an archdeceiver, and had sunk to the grave in the flower of her youth, broken-hearted. "There at last (said I to lady M.) her many sorrows have come to an end-all lovely as she was in the beauties and the virtues of the earth, she is lovelier now, when arrayed in the unfading charms of a glorified spirit. It is selfishness, therefore, in me to complain of a dispensation of Heaven, which has taken her from a world that was not worthy of her, and has left me only this memorial of her lovely features." On saying these words, I took out the miniature from my bosom, and slipping the golden chain over my head, put the open picture into lady Monteith's hand. She expressed her admiration of the countenance, and handed the case to her daughter, who looked steadfastly at the portrait for a minute-then lifting her eyes glistening with tears, she said to me, "How unfortunate, that one so lovely should have been deceived into a fatal marriage, and thus taken from a gentleman who could appreciate her beauty and vir tue, and would have made her happy. How unfortunate!" I felt that this was not a fashionable compliment, but the unstudied effusion of a sympathetic heart; and I loved the beautiful speaker, for the interest she took in my ill-fated love and its more ill-fated object.

When I expressed a desire to copy the article in the newspaper, which announced my Judith's melancholy death, a search was instantly made among Sir David's files, and the paper being produced, I read as follows:

"Died, at the village of Clairfont, in the south of France, on the 20th of last month, (April,) Nathan Bensaddi, late banker of London; and on the 30th of the same month, his daughter, the unhappy wife of Patrick

Brannigan. She had gone with her father to seek | self again in the same house, but with feelings and health and retirement for him and for herself, from un- under circumstances, O how changed! propitious skies and more unpropitious connexions. But bright suns and kind strangers could neither restore their bodies to health, nor their hearts to enjoyment. They have found repose in the grave. This notice is sent by a surviving friend; that all who yet care for a | once flourishing, but now ruined family, may know the sad fate of the father and the daughter who trusted and were betrayed."

I felt so melancholy, after reading this notice, that I took leave of the worthy baronet and his family; although kindly invited to become their guest, during as many days as I might choose to remain in London. I could stay no longer in a city where such distressing intelligence came upon me, and where all was strange and now gloomy to my imagination. I hurried over to Paris, where I spent a fortnight, and endeavored to divert my melancholy thoughts by looking at the gay sights of that metropolis of pleasure. But I had come in vain; unless it were that I purchased some books and other articles for my retreat in Seclusaval, to which I designed now to confine myself, as soon as I could make the necessary preparations. From Paris I went to the south, into the districts where wine and silk are cultivated. Here I engaged four protestant families to come over and settle on my estate. My object was to employ them in the culture of the vine and the mulberry, in a warm sandy valley of my estate-a place thought to be excellently adapted to these productions. I visited Clairfont, and with difficulty found the obscure graves of Bensaddi and his daughter. No inscription marked the spot-no friend resorted to it with tears. The sexton, after some consideration, pointed out the two hillocks, side by side. "This (said he) is the father's, and this the daughter's." "This, then, (said I) is my Judith's grave!" It was all that I could say. I shed a thousand bitter tears on the holy earth; and having thus recorded my grief, I went to Bordeaux.

I desired on my arrival, to visit the parlor which we then occupied, but was told that a family of strangers with a sick lady were now in possession. Five days afterwards, when I was about to depart for the south, I again inquired about the parlor, and was told that the family were just leaving it, and would go off in the carriage and sulkey at the door. The same moment I saw a gentleman and four ladies passing out in travelling dresses. One of the ladies was dressed in deep mourning and wore a thick veil. My curiosity was excited. I also went out to look at the party. The lady in black was behind, and got in last. She seated herself so as to face my position; but the veil concealed her face. Just as the carriage began to move, she drew her veil aside, and what was my astonishment to recognise in her features, a strong resemblance to Judith Bensaddi! Her whole person agreed with the description of my buried Judith; her raven locks, her black eyes, her oval face--all were like my lost one. But before I could scan the resemblance, to see if it were perfect, she was driven off, and I was left trembling, amazed and unsatisfied. So far as I could judge, she was exactly like, probably the very lady, whom I had seen on the French ship, when I was going out of the harbor of New York. I could not believe that this was my poor Judith, risen from the dead; yet, laying all fancy aside, the resemblance was so evident, that I was sorely perplexed.

When my stupor of astonishment had somewhat abated, I went to the clerk at the bar and inquired the name of the family. He told me that they were the family of doctor La Motte of South Carolina, returning home from a tour in the north. I asked if the lady in black was a daughter of doctor La Motte. "No, (said he,) I think she is the governess of his daughters, and that her name is―let me see-oh, here it is in the register-Miss Bersati." Here was another curious cirNear the last of September, I embarked with my cumstance; the resemblance of the names; yet a difcolonists for Philadelphia, where we landed after a ference too. A painful curiosity to know more of this voyage of five weeks. Here I chartered a schooner to lady, was excited; but how to learn more was the difficarry my colonists, my water pipes, and various arti-culty; for nothing was known here of the family, cles of furniture to Charleston, the port most convenient except the few particulars already mentioned. I could to Seelusaval. I intended to go by land directly to my not discover even the quarter of South Carolina in native country of Rockbridge, and after seeing my which doctor La Motte resided. friends there, to continue my journey to Seclusaval, to travel thence no more, until I passed "the bourne from which no traveller returns."

In Philadelphia I made a safe investment of the greater part of the money obtained for my gold mine. The stocks which I purchased then and afterwards, would altogether, yield me a revenue of more than six thousand dollars a year.

I paid a mournful visit to the now vacated parlor. There was the identical sofa on which Judith and I had so often sat, while she nursed my sore ankle; there the very spot where we had mingled tears and throbs, and all the joys of our innocent love, on the night when we parted. I now left the hallowed spot with an aching heart, and in a few hours more was on my way again, by Lancaster, to my native Rockbridge. I gave my parents and friends-my alma mater, my native hills and vales-a visit of two weeks; and then, as I supposed, "a long and last farewell"-and proceeded southward to shut myself up in my own Seclusaval, there to live In Philadelphia I took up my lodgings in the hotel and there to die, a mourner and recluse; not that I had where Judith and I had spent the ten most interesting made a vow to do so, or that I intended literally to imdays of my life-where in sadness and in delight we prison myself in my mountain-bound retreat. But had lived like brother and sister-and where we finally there I expected to abide in seclusion from the wide separated with hearts intertwined and bound together world; and only to make excursions beyond the limits in bonds of the purest and sweetest affection. Now, of my estate, when some important occasion should after an interval of three and a half years, I found my-I summon me away.

CHAPTER IV.

THE LADY IN BLACK.

I arrived first at the village, near which the female | out, 'Oh how beautiful.' There was a lady in a black academy was located. I received a hearty welcome mourning dress, that seemed to be all in raptures at the from my friends there, and was gratified to see the walls of the academy in a state of considerable forwardness. The books and apparatus, bought in Europe for the institution had just arrived, and were stored away until they should be wanted. The next day I proceeded to Seclusaval, and found every thing going on well. My beautiful cottage was almost finished. The parlor and library were already furnished; the hill-sides about the house were all trimmed and arranged in their garden style; multitudes of shrubs, trees, and plants of various kinds, had been growing in pots and boxes through the summer, ready to be set in their destined places in due season, so that by the next spring the garden would be complete. The other grounds and buildings would be in their finished state of improvement by the same time; so that Seclusaval would, the next season, exhibit innumerable beauties to charm the senses, and to make it one of the most delightful scenes of rural beauty in the world.

probably guide me to my object. When Dr. L. left home for a visit to France, he obtained a situation for Miss Bersati in the family of Mr. Naudain, a relation of his, in the neighborhood of Purysburg on the Savannah. Thither I went in eager haste, and arrived at the house about noon, on the tenth day of my absence from home.

such a tissue of strange coincidences made on my mind. | from Beaufort, I was able at last to get a clue that would In spite of what I had heard and seen in London, I was almost persuaded that this lady in black could be no other than Judith Bensaddi, with her name slightly changed, probably for some motive of concealment There was one circumstance which had escaped my notice in the tumult of my feelings, when I first heard in London of Mrs. Brannigan's death. Judith had a sister married to a christian gentleman, whose name I had I was politely received by Mrs. Naudain in the abnever heard; nor had I heard the name of the gentle-sence of her husband. She informed me that Miss Berman to whom Judith bad engaged herself. Sir David sati was an inmate of her family, and was then with Monteith-being unacquainted with Mr. Bensaddi's her daughters in another part of the house. I showed family, might possibly be mistaken in supposing that such deep emotion on hearing this, that Mrs. N. susMrs. Brannigan was the daughter who gave up her own pected instantly the cause of my agitation; and knowfortune to pay her father's debts. This noble act was ing that Miss Bersati was in a correspondent state of certainly done by Judith, whose uncle had left to her mind, respecting some gentleman to whom she had been the fortune that she gave up. So that there did seem attached, the good lady did not wait for any detailed to be a possibility, after all, that my Judith might be explanation, but on my expressing a desire to see Miss alive. I regretted exceedingly, that in the sudden per- B., she smiled, and said that the young lady would turbation of my feelings, I had not thought of Judith's doubtless be glad to see me. "I will request her (said sister while I was at Sir David Monteith's, and that I she) to step into a private room, that so joyful a meethad left London without inquiring, or thinking to in- ing may be undisturbed by spectators. Be so good as quire, more particularly about the two sisters. Being to keep your seat, until I return." I could not literally left in some doubt now concerning my Judith's fate, I keep my seat. My palpitating heart would not let me was prone to hope that the striking coincidences both rest a single moment, I got up and paced the room; personal and historical, between this lady and my lost then sat down again; but in another moment I was on one, were not accidental. Judith, I felt sure, would my feet, hurrying from one part of the room to another. never have chosen to visit my dwelling without a pre- Every minute seemed an hour, till Mrs. Naudain revious explanation with me ;-but I could imagine plau- turned and asked me to walk with her. I followed her sible reasons to account for this circumstance, so incon- footsteps into a long piazza in the rear of the house, and sistent with the well known delicacy of her feelings. then to the end of the piazza, where we entered a pasShe could not object to coming with her employer's sage, on the left side of which was a door standing ajar : family, without giving a reason that would betray what beckoning me to enter by that door, she retired in sishe would rather conceal; and knowing that I was lence. I stood a few moments to collect my spirits. I from home, she had no reason to object: nor could she heard light footsteps within, of a person walking anxpresume that the Mr. Garame of Seclusaval, was the iously over the floor. Pushing the door gently, I stepsame person as the poor student of Rockbridge, whom ped in, and saw the lady in black walking from me, she had known and loved three years before. unconscious of my presence. Her stature and figure seemed to be those of my Judith. Her hair, black and glossy as the raven's plume, agreed with my Judith's. The lady soon heard my approach, and turning round quickly, brought to view a face which again started the rushing tide of sensibility through my nerves. "My Judith, (I exclaimed)—my own beloved!" and I sprang forward to embrace her. She, when she caught the first glance of my person, uttered a faint cry of joy, and started to meet me. But before we met, I discovered an instantaneous change in her countenance. The glow of joyful surprise was converted into ashy paleness. An expression of anguish came like a flash of lightning upon her face. I was in the act of taking her into my arms, when she sank at once to the floor, as if pa|ralyzed. I raised her up and placed her on a settee in the room, and snatching a cushion from a chair, put it under her head. She soon began to recover from her partial swoon. Before she was able to converse, I had time and opportunity to undeceive myself. I discovered-to my inexpressible grief and disappointmentthat the lady in black was not Judith Bensaddi. She resembled her much in every striking peculiarity of feature. But a close inspection immediately detected differences that left no room for mistake. eyes were rather smaller and blacker, her complexion darker, her face longer, and the expression of her countenance was to me less benignly sweet and winning.

Putting all these facts and conjectures together, I was so nearly persuaded that the lady in black was my Judith, as to feel the most tormenting impatience to solve the mystery. But in vain did I attempt to trace the course of doctor La Motte, or to discover the place of his residence. The tavern-keeper at the village could give me no information; no one in the neighborhood was possessed of the knowledge that I sought. I concluded then to write letters to acquaintances in different parts of Carolina, and to get my friends to do the like; that, if possible, I might from some one obtain the desired information. At least fifty letters were written by me and for me; but four weary months passed away without a ray of intelligence. Nobody seemed to know Dr. La Motte. At last a correspondent in Charleston informed one of my friends, that Dr. La Motte with his family had a few days before embarked at that port for France; but that no such lady as Miss Bersati was with them. This correspondent had learned that Dr. L.'s residence was on the island of St. Helena upon the sea coast, south of Charleston. I determined to go immediately to the place, and obtain what information I could respecting Miss Bersati.

On the first of March, I mounted my horse, and put him to a full trial of his speed and bottom. In eight days I reached Beaufort, where I found that Dr. L. was well known. At his extensive plantation, ten miles

This lady's