bird, which may be supposed to have given its name to his habitation. Although the father of two grown up young people-Chetwynd Calverly, the hero of the story, and Mildred, accounted the prettiest girl in Cheshire-he was induced to marry his ward, Teresa Mildmay, a school-friend of Mildred's, who, we are led to infer, although previously engaged to Chetwynd, preferred the owner of the broad acres to one who in his youth was of rather rash and extravagant, not to say somewhat dissipated, habits. Mildred was a blonde, with a ravishingly fair complexion-all kindness and amiability, Teresa was dark, classical in mould, handsome, but haughty. They contrasted well together. For a time Mr. Calverly had no reason to regret the extraordinary step he had taken. Teresa made him an excellent wife, and seemed quite devoted to him. But a few months after his marriage, his health began to decline, and he died under circumstances calculated to arouse the gravest suspicions. Nor were these allayed by the fact that he left his entire property to Teresa, with allowances, under her control, for Chetwynd and Mildred, as also a further provision in case of his son's reformation, and for Mildred on her marriageprovided she married with Teresa's consent.

So disgusted was Chetwynd at the marriage and at the state of tutelage in which he was placed by the provisions of his father's will, that after a remarkable conversation with Norris, the old and faithful butler, in which the progress of the story is fairly foreshadowed, he declines to accept the allowance proferred to him, and he takes himself off from his home and step-mother, without either apparent resources or future prospects. Mildred, in her mild, forgiving disposition, remains alone as the friend and companion of the Circe of Ouselcroft.

A drive in a pony phaeton across Brackley Heath, to visit Lady Barfleur and her charming daughter, Emmeline, affords a good opportunity for an introduction to Captain Danvers, a relative of the Barfleurs, and who, dividing afterwards his attentions as he does between Mrs. Calverly and Mildred, scarcely deserved the prize which he wins at last-the hand of the persecuted, but good and forgiving, young lady. The ladies were attacked on the heath by gipsies, and Danvers came up in time for the rescue; but the pursuit of the rascals, carried out with the aid of dogs, over the dangerous bogs and morasses of a Cheshire mere, led to a most serious calamity in the death of a fine old English gentleman-Sir Leycester Barfleur. The untoward fate of the master of Brackley Hall was foretold by one of those peculiarly local and legendary events with which the writer is so familiar, and of which he knows how to make such good use. About a mile off, at the rear of the mansion, was a small lake, or mere, remarkable

for the blackness of its waters, yet abounding with fish and waterfowl.

The fair Emmeline had just been conversing with Mildred concerning the attachment which she entertained, among all kinds of evil reports and trials, for Chetwynd, and they had joined Mrs. Calverly and Captain Danvers in the garden. Lady Barfleur had also made her appearance, and she suggested a visit to the mere.

"It is a nice shady walk there through the wood," she said; "and if you have not seen the mere, I think you will be struck by it."

"Not by its beauty, mamma," remarked Emmeline, "but rather by its blackness."

"Wel', such blackness as that water boasts is a beauty," said Captain Danvers. "In my opinion the mere is well worth seeing."

"There are all sorts of legends attached to it," said Emmeline. "Amongst others, there is a superstition, that when anything is about to happen to our house, a great piece of black oak, that has been sunk for ages at the bottom of the lake, floats to the surface."

"An idle story," remarked Lady Barfleur.

"You excite my curiosity," said Mrs. Calverley. "I should like to see this mysterious like."

"You must excuse my accompanying you," said Lady Barfleur. "Captain Danvers will conduct you there."

"With the greatest pleasure," said the Captain. "I hope you will go too, Miss Calverley?"

"Oh, of course!" she replied.

So they all set off, with the exception of Lady Barfleur, who rarely got beyond the garden.

In a very few minutes, they had plunged into a wood, through which a narrow road led to the mere.

In some places the path was overarched by trees, and the branches formed a delightful screen on that hot day.

Captain Danvers led the way with Mildred, and the path being only wide enough for two, the others were obliged to follow. As the wood seemed to inspire such a toue, his accents became low and tender.

Suddenly, they burst upon the lake in all its sombre grandeur. The water looked intensly black, but when examined, it was found to be perfectly clear. The broad expause was surrounded by trees, which, in some instances, advanced beyond the bank.

The surface of the mere was unruffled, for not a breath of wind was stirring, and reflected the trees as in a mirror. Occasionally, however, a fish would leap up, and the smooth water was, for a moment, rippled.

But the effect of the scene was not cheerful. Au air of gloom brooded over the place, that impressed the beholder with melancholy. Both Mrs. Calverley and Mildred acknowledged the feeling.

At the point where the visitors had approached it, the lake was shallow, and occupied by a large bed of reeds and bulrushes; but, at the opposite extremity, the water was profoundly deep, and supposed, by the common folk, to be unfathomable.

On the left, and not far from where they stood, was a boat-house, and Captain Danvers offered to row them to the further end of the lake, so that they might have an opportunity of completely surveying it.

The proposal was gladly accepted.

Repairing to the shed, they embarked in a large flat-bottomed boat, better adapted for fishing than moving rapidly through the water.

However, it answered the purpose. Captain Danvers took the sculls, and contrived to get Mildred next him. The clumsy craft moved slowly on, and was now and then stopped that the ladies might look around.

As they drew near the lower end, the lake seemed to become darker, and the trees that shut it in assumed a yet more sombre appearance.

Here it was deepest.

Captain Danvers was tugging at the skulls, but still making very slow progress, when the boat struck against something in the water that gave it a great shock.

The Captain ceased rowing, and looking round to see what he had come in contact with, to his surprise and consternation, he beheld the blackened trunk of a huge oak.

Hitherto, the dusky mass had scarcely appeared above the surface, but on being thus forcibly struck, it rolled round in such manner as to display its enormous bulk, and then gradually sank.

All three ladies saw the ill-omened piece of timber at the same time as Captain Danvers.

Uttering a cry of fright, Emmeline stood up, and, pointing to it, exclaimed,

""Tis the black oak I told you of. One of my father's house is doomed !" The others looked aghast, but spoke not. Even Captain Danvers seemed struck dumb.

Without a word, he turned the boat's head, and began to row back.

While he was moving round, Emmeline sat down, and covered her eyes, to shut the hideous object from her view.

"It is gone," said Mildred, in a low tone. "Try not to think about it." "I ought to think about it," rejoined Emmeline, scarcely above her breath. "It is a death-warning!"

"But not to you, dearest girl," said Mildred.

"I would rather it applied to me than to those I love," she returned. Silence prevailed among the party till they landed. No more jesting on the part of the Captain. He looked very gloomy.

When he got out of the boat, he tried to cheer up his fair cousin, but did not succeed.

They walked back quietly to the Hall, where a painful surprise awaited them.

Whilst Emmeline becomes by the death of "the last of the old Cheshire squires" the heiress of Brackley Hall, Chetwynd, in the meantime, by his obduracy in refusing all aid from his stepmother, and by habits of extravagance and recklessness, is so reduced in circumstances, and at the same time so disgusted by the shallowness and ingratitude of his quandom friends, as to com. template suicide. Happily this is averted by the timely interference of a man in humble circumstances, who not only rescues him from destruction, but gives him shelter in his modest dwelling. Hartley and his wife and their daughter, Rose, constitute a group fit for artistic study. It is under these circumstances that, deprived of all resources, he is induced to enter upon engagements of so demeaning a character-that of assuming the garb and even the

powdered hair of a footman-that we feel that the whole ought to have been treated as a joke, and as such have been brought to a humorous climax ; but,joke or no joke, the whim is carried so far as to be made a subsequent source of accusation, brought by Scrope Danvers, brother to the captain, against the young gentleman's engagment to Emmeline.

Chetwynd is, however, emancipated from his false position by a friend of the family-Sir Bridgnorth Charlton-one of those straight-forward, sensible, practical men, who go about the world doing good almost without knowing it. Such an admirable specimen of the fine, hearty, middle-aged gentleman is the baronet that we almost feel sorry when he is led to the hymeneal altar, like the rest of the actors in this stirring drama, lest anything should happen to mar the happiness of so beneficent and single-hearted a

creature.

Emmeline, young, rich, beautiful, and accomplished, holds through all trials and disasters to her first love. It would, indeed, be difficult to depict a more perfect ideal of the affectionate devotion of a beautiful young lady than that contained in the portrait of the heiress of Brackley Hall.

Mrs. Calverly, the fair and youthful widow, but with the taint of suspicion ever upon her person-who loved neither son nor father save for mercenary motives, falls at length seriously in love with a certain Lord Courland, but just when a matrimonial engagement is about to be carried out, a clause in the late Mr. Calverly's will is discovered, by which if his relict marries again the property returns to Mildred. The steps taken by the plotting Teresa in this dilemma to remove the good angel that stood in her path, are full of breathless interest. They are, however, most. forcibly told, as they stand in connexion with other crimes of the same complexion, in her own words, when she too has succumbed to the direful powers which she has used, or tried to use, so often upon others when any difficulty required to be removed from her path.

Alone with the dying Teresa.

"Take comfort," said the good chaplain, regarding her with tenderness and compassion. "Ease your breast by a full confession, and then, if your repentance is sincere, doubt not Heaven's goodness and mercy. Our blessed Saviour will not desert you."

On this, Teresa knelt down before him, and, though he strove to raise her, she would not quit the humble posture.

"Prepare yourself for a dreadful relation, reverend sir," she said, clasping her hands. "I had the best and kindest of husbands, who studied my every wish, and strove in every way to make me happy. I persuaded him I was happy; but I deceived him. The yoke I had put on was unsupportable.

"An evil spirit seemed to have taken possession of my breast. I strove to

H

dismiss the wicked thoughts that assailed me; but they came back again and again, and with greater force than before.

"I had not a fault to find with my husband-he was kindness itself. Yet I sought to get rid of him by poison. It was long before I could make up my mind to the dreadful act; but I was ever brooding upon it.

"At last I obtained the poison, minute doses of which would kill without exciting suspicion. But not till my husband was attacked by some slight illness did I administer the first dose.

"He grew worse. But it seemed only a natural increase of the malady, and the symptoms excited no suspicion whatever in his medical attendant, the progress of the poison being so slow and insidious. Moreover, I was constantly with my victim, and acted as his nurse."

The good chaplain covered his face with his hands, and a short pause ensued, which was broken by Teresa.

"And now comes the astounding part of my narration," she said. "1 can scarcely credit my own hardness of heart. As I saw this kind and excellent man, who loved me so dearly, gradually wasting away-literally dying by inches--I felt no compunction-none! I counted the days he could live."

Here there was another pause, and the guilty woman had to summon up resolution before she could proceed.

"To free myself from my marriage fetters was only part of my scheme," she said. "My greedy spirit would not be content without my husband's property, and this I felt certain I could secure. He doted upon me. I had obtained his entire confidence. I knew his inmost thoughts. He had quarrelled with his son. I aggravated the dispute, and took care to prevent a reconciliation, which could have been easily effected had I so desired it.

"My ascendancy over my infirm husband was now so great that he acted upon all my suggestions; and by hints cunningly thrown out, I easily induced him to make a will in my favour, persuading him I would carry out his wishes in regard to his son and daughter."

"Did no suspicion cross him?" inquired the chaplain. "Not till the last night of his life," she replied.

If he suspected me, he never taxed me with my guilt."

But I think it did then.

At this moment a sudden change came over her, and she gazed strangely into the vacancy.

"What troubles you ?" inquired the chaplain.

"I thought I saw my husband standing there!" she replied, with a shudder.

"Tis fancy. Proceed with your confession. You have more to tell ?" "I have,” she replied, with a fearful look. "The dark tragedy was over. Intoxicated by the power and wealth I had acquired, I contrived to stifle reniorse. I kept Mildred constantly with me. Her presence seemed to shield me, and I sought to make some amends by befriending Chetwynd.

"But vengeance was pursuing me, though with slow feet. My punishment was accomplished in an unforeseen manner. Hitherto my heart had never known love, and I thought myself proof against the tender passion. But it was not so. I met Lord Courland at the house of Lady Thicknesse in London, and he at once won my affections and offered me his hand.

"Loving him, and thinking to bind him to me, I promised him half the large property I fancied at my disposal. All was arranged, and my destined husband had come down here to see his future abode, when almost at the last moment I discovered that if I married again the whole of the property would go to Mildred.