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velry, and hurried in their gondola to the chateau that was prepared for their $reception.

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It was a fine moonlight night. The mild beams of the planets sparkled on the silver bosom of the Adriatic, and the light tones of music, "by distance made more sweet," came wafted on the #western gale. A thousand lamps, from the illuminated squares of the city, reflected their burnished hues along the wave, and the mellow chaunt of the gondoliers kept time to the gentle plashing of their oars. The hearts of the lovers were full, and the witching spirit of the hour passed with all its loveliness into their souls. On a suddon a deep groan escaped the overcharged heart of Reginald. He had looked to the western hemisphere, and the star which, at that moment, flashed brightly in the horizon, reminded him of the awful scene which he had witnessed at the tower of Rudstein. His eye sparkled with delirious brilliancy; and had not a shower of tears come opportunely to his relief, the consequence might have been fatal. But the affectionate caresses of his young bride succeeded for the present in soothing his agitation, and restoring his mind to its former tranquil temperament.

rits of the parent, and she expired in the act of folding him to her arms.

From this moment the mind of Reginald assumed a tone of the most confirmed dejection. He followed his mother to the grave, and was observed to smile with unutterable meaning as he returned home from the funeral. The chateau Di Venoni increased the native depression of his spirits, and the appearance of the ruined tower never failed to imprint a dark frown upon his brow. He would wander for days from his home, and when he returned, the moody expression of his countenance alarmed the affection of his wife. She did all in her power to assuage his anguish, but his melancholy remained unabated. Sometimes, when the fit was on him, he would repulse her with fury; but, in his gentler moments, would gaze on her as on a sweet vision of vanished happiness.

He was one evening wandering with her through the village, when his conversation assumed a more dejected tone than usual. The sun was slowly setting, and their route back to the chateau lay through the churchyard where the ashes of the Countess reposed. Reginald seated himself with Marcelia by the grave, and plucking a few wild flowers from the turf, exclaimed," Are you not anxious to join my mother, sweet girl? She has gone to the land of the blest-to the land of love and sunshine! If we are happy in this world, what will be our state of happiness in the next? Let us fly to unite our bliss with her's, and the measure of our joy will be full." As he uttered these words his eye glared with delirium, and his hand. seemed searching for a weapon. Marcelia alarmed at his appearance, hurried him from the spot, and clasping his hand in her's, drew him gently onward.

A few months had now elapsed from the period of his marriage, and the heart of Reginald was happy. He loved Marcelia, and was tenderly beloved in return. Nothing, therefore, remained to complete his felicity but the presence of his mother, the Countess. He wrote accordingly to entreat that she would come and reside with him at Venice, but was informed by her confessor in reply, that she was dangerously ill, and requested the immediate attendance of her son. On the receipt of this afflicting intelligence he hurried with Marcelia to the chateau Di Venoni. The Countess was still alive when he enter- The sun in the meantime had sunk, ed, and received him with an affec- and the stars of evening came out in tionate embrace. But the exertion of their glory. Brilliant above all shone so unexpected an interview with her the fatal western planet, the star of Reson, was too great for the agitated spi-ginald's nativity. He observed it with

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horror, and pointed it out to the notice
"The hand of heaven is
of Marcelia.
in it!" he mentally exclaimed," and
the proud fortunes of Venoni hasten to
a close.

At this instant the ruined
tower of Rudstein appeared in sight,
with the moon shining full upon it.
"It is the place," resumed the maniac,
"where a deed of blood must be done,
and I am he that must perpetrate it!
But fear not, my poor girl," he added,
in a milder tone, while the tears sprang
to his eyes,
thy Reginald cannot
harm thee; he may be wretched, but
he never shall be guilty!" With these
words he reached the chateau, and
threw himself on his couch in restless
anxiety of mind.

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Night waned, morning dawned on the upland lands of the scenery, and with it came a renewal of Reginald's disorder. The day was stormy, and in unison with the troubled feeling of his spirit. He had been absent from Marcelia since day-break, and had given But as she her no promise of return. was seated at twilight near the lattice, playing on her harp a favourite Venetian canzonet, the folding doors flew open, and Reginald made his appearance.

heard

of the fiendish Astrologer was
broke on the midnight gale. The voice
shouting as from a charnel house, The
destiny is accomplished, and the victim
may retire with honour.' Then, me-
thought, the fair front of heaven was
obscured, and thick gouts of clotted
rents from the blackened clouds of the
clammy blood showered down in tor-
west. The star shot through the air,
and-the phantom of my mother again
beckoned me to follow."

The maniac ceased, and rushed in Marcelia agony from the apartment. followed and discovered him leaning in a trance against the wainscot of the library. With gentlest motion she drew his hand in her's, and led him into the open air. They rambled on, heedless of the gathering storm, until they discovered themselves at the base of the tower of Rudstein. Suddenly the maniac paused. A horrid thought seemed flashing across his brain, as with giant grasp he seized Marcelia in his arms, and bore her to the fatal apartment. In vain she shrieked for help, for pity. "Dear Reginald, it is Marcelia who He heard-he heeded not, nor once speaks, you cannot surely harm her." staid his steps, till he reached the room of death. On a sudden his countenance lost its wildness, and assumed a more fearful, but composed look of determined madness. He advanced to the window, and gazed on the stormy face of heaven. Dark clouds flitted across the horizon, and the hollow thunder echoed awfully in distance. To the west the fatal star was still visible, but shone with sickly lustre. At this instant a flash of lightning re-illumined the whole apartment, and threw a broad red glare upon a skeleton that mouldered upon On a sudden loud shrieks were heard, and the sylph assumed the guise of a demon. Her figure towered to an awful height, and she pointed in scornful derision to thee; yes, to thee, my Marcelia. With rage I seizedshe drew thee towards me.

His
eye was red with the deepest-the
deadliest madness, and his whole frame
" 'Twas
seemed unusually convulsed.
not a dream," he exclaimed, “ I have
seen her and she has beckoned us to
follow." "Seen her, seen who ?"
said Marcelia, alarmed at his phrenzy.

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My mother," replied the maniac. "Listen while I repeat the horrid narrative. Methought as I was wandering in the forest, a sylph of heaven approached, and revealed the countenance of my mother, I flew to join her but was withheld by a sage who pointed to the western star.

I murdered thee; and hollow groans

the floor. Reginald observed it with affright, and remembered the unburied Astrologer. He advanced to "A dark cloud is sailing by,' Marcelia, and pointing to the rising he shudderingly exclaimed," but ere the full orb again shines forth, thou shalt die, I will accompany thee in

moon.

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leath, and hand in hand will we pass nto the presence of our mother." The Door girl shrieked for pity, but her voice was lost in the angry ravings of he storm. The cloud, in the meantime, ailed on, it approached-the moon was dimmed, darkened, and finally buied in its gloom. The maniac marked he hour, and rushed with a fearful cry owards his victim. With murderous resolution he grasped her throat, while the helpless hand and half strangled articulation, implored his compassion. After one final struggle the hollow death rattle announced that life was extinct, and that the murderer held a corpse in his arms. An interval of reason now occurred, and on the partial restoration of his mind, Reginald discovered himself the unconscious murderer of Marcelia. Madness-deepest madness again took possession of his faculties. He laughed he shouted

aloud with the unearthly yellings of a fiend, and in the raging violence of his delirium, hurled himself headlong from the summit of the tower.

In the morning the bodies of the young couple were discovered, and buried in the same tomb. The fatal ruin of Rudstein still exists; but is now commonly avoided as the residence of the spirits of the departed. Day by day it slowly crumbles to earth, and affords. a shelter for the night raven, or the wild brutes of the forests. Superstition has consecrated it to herself, and the tradition of the country has invested it with all the awful appendages of a charnel house. The wanderer who passes at night-fall, shudders while he surveys its utter desolation, and exclaims as he journies on "Surely this is a spot where guilt may thrive in safety, or bigotry weave a spell to enthrall her misguided votaries."

THE WATER-LADY.

An Austrian Tradition.

There is a mystery in these sombre shades,
A secret horror in this dark, deep flood;
'T seems as if beings of another race

Here lurk invisible, except what time

Eve's dusky hour, and night's congenial gloom, Permit them to show themselves in human guise.— Men say that fays, and elves, and water spirits, Affect such haunts-and this is surely one.

On the banks of one of the streams falling into the Inn, a river that runs into the Danube near Passau, are the remains of an old castle, not far from a narrow defile or glen, where the waters, being hemmed in, rush with impetuosity through fragments of rock impeding their course. Of these, the following legend is related:

The last possessor of the castle, which had not been inhabited for several centuries, was Count Albert, a youthful nobleman, descended from an

illustrious ancestry; daring, enthusiastic, and addicted to study; but his studies were of such a nature that they incurred for him, among his credulous dependants, the imputation of holding unhallowed intercourse with supernatural beings. Independently, however, of the censures his conduct occasioned in this respect, he was admired by all for possessing in an eminent degree, personal courage and prowess, qualities so necessary, and therefore so highly prized in those ages. Yet even

those who were most forward to commend his undauntedness could not forbear blaming the indiscretions of his curiosity, which led him to venture into scenes that would, by the fancied horror attached to them, have appalled the bravest of his followers. During the most stormy weather, when the spirits of the air were supposed to be wreaking their fury on the elements-in the depth of night, at that hour when the souls of the departed were supposed to re-visit the earth, and forms obscure and horrible to appear to the unfortunate traveller who should be bewildered on his way, even at such seasons would Albert venture into the recesses of the woods, enjoy the conflicts of nature on the blasted heath, and explore the wildest solitudes around his domain.

Such practices occasioned much conjecture and rumour-and many prophesied, that some terrible visitation would overtake the man, who, if not actually leagued with the powers of darkness, delighted in all that was horrific and appalling; nor did the less scrupulous or the more imaginative hesitate to relate, with particular circumstance and detail, the dreadful mysteries he was reported, at such times, to have witnessed.

In the defile, which, as has been stated, was in the immediate vicinity of the castle, it was said, that a fairy, or spirit, named by the peasantry the "Water Lady," had been heard by night, singing within a cave hollowed in the rock, just above the most dangerous part of the current.

Albert was determined to ascertain the truth, and, if possible, obtain an interview with the supernatural inhabitant of the "Black Water Vault." Such a daring project excited the horror of all who heard it: since many were the tales respecting persons having been enticed to listen to the strains of the spirit, and afterwards perishing in the foaming waters; for she was said to delight in attracting the unwary, and the curious. But though the design of the

young Count appeared so fraught with danger, and obstinate temerity, nothing could induce him to abandon the enterprise: neither the intreaties of his friends nor those of Bertha, his betrothed bride, whom he was shortly to conduct to the altar; it rather seemed as if all obstacles and dissuasives did but irritate his unhallowed curiosity. One evening, the third of the new moon, the Count, attended by two companions, whom he had prevailed upon to assist him in rowing his boat, and steering it among the eddies of the torrent, departed for the scene of research.-They proceeded in silence, for Albert was buried in thought, the others were mute from apprehension. No sooner did they approach the narrow pass where the foaming and congregated waters dash furiously through the contracted channel, than was heard the voice of one within the cavern.

The music was so strongly sweet and fascinating, that, although struck with awe at the supernatural sounds, they were induced to advance. A form was soon dimly descried: it was that of a female arrayed in floating drapery, but her features they might not discern, as she wore a thick veil. They continued to approach the spot so as to be able to catch distinctly the following words, which were chaunted in a tone of solemn adjuration.

By the treasures of my cave,
More than avarice could crave,
More than Fortune yet e'er gave,
I charge thee, youth, appear.
Here I wait thy will and hest,
Here with me thou'lt safely rest,
Thou art he, my chosen guest

Then enter thou, nor fear.
Mortal, now, in dead of night,
Magic spell of friendly sprite,
To favour thee, hath bound aright
Aught that would thee harm.
Hither, hasten, youthful rover:
In my secret, inmost bower,
Thou shalt find a worthy dower
Defy not, then, my charm.

By this time they had arrived opposite to the cave: Albert motioned to

when, or how the Count had returned -to wonder at their own silence on this topic, and impute it to some magic charm. Day after day did they continue to express to each other their astonishment their surmises, their apprehensions; but even his most familiar friends did not venture ever to speak a syllable to him on the subject of their curiosity among other circumstances, which were whispered about, it had been remarked, that instead of the ring the Count used to wear, which was of great value and family antiquity, he now had one, of which the circlet itself, and not the ornament, was apparently cut out of a single piece of emerald, and, as some averred, who had taken the op

his companions to stay the bark, and scarcely had they obeyed, when having leaped into the flood, he was soon descried by them, climbing up the jutting crags below the cavern-he entered beneath its low-browed opening, and disappeared. Gazing upon each other with looks of dread, and fearing to speak, lest there should be horror in the tones of their own voices, they retired to some distance, waiting in the hope that the adventurer might re-appear: at length they returned to the castle, in the same silence of terror as they had hitherto observed. "Where was their companion, the Count--had he perished? How had they lost him-what had they beheld?" These and similar questions were put to them by the terri-portunity of examining it, unperceived fied inmates; their replies were brief, vague, and incoherent, but all of dreadful import; and no doubt remained as to the youth's having become the victim of his own temerity.

The following morning when the family were assembled, and preparing to commence their matin repast, Lord Albert advanced into the hall, and took his wonted station at the table, with the usual salutations. All started as if a spectre had stood before them—yet, strange to say, no one dared to address him as to his absence, or his mysterious return-for he had apparently but just quitted his chamber, clad in his wonted morning apparel; every one was as spell bound, since no sooner did any attempt to question the Count, than he felt the words die away upon his lips. There sat a wondrous paleness upon his brow, yet was it not sad; there was, too, a more than common fire in the expression of his eye; he was thoughtful-at times abstracted, but instantly roused himself, and essayed to animate the conversation. If the silence of the others was singular, that of Albert himself was equally so, for he took no notice whatever of the occurrences of the preceding evening. No sooner had he quitted the hall, than every one began to inquire of his neighbour, if he knew

by its wearer, inscribed with mystic characters.

In time, however, these circumstances ceased to be the theme of their conversation, and even appeared forgotten during the preparations for the approaching nuptials between the Count and the Lady Bertha; and were never mentioned during the gaieties attendant upon their solemnization. On the evening after their bridal day, while the Count was conversing apart with one of his guests, in the recess of an oriel window, the faint beam of the new moon fell upon his face-he looked up aghast, as if struck by some sudden, dreadful recollection, and, dashing his hand against his forehead, rushed wildly out of the apartment. Consternation seized all who witnessed this dreadful burst of dismay, of which none could tell the

cause.

Retired from his guests, the Count was hastily pacing to and fro, in a long gallery leading to his private apartments, when Bertha broke in upon him. She did not notice his extreme disorder, being herself hardly less agitated; but informed him, that on the preceding night, a figure, veiled in long flowing drapery, had been standing at their chamber door, and the next morning a ring picked up by her attendants on the

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