"Oh, but we must see to that!" exclaimed Mr. D'Aaroni. "Duels are only fit for simpletons, at best; but upon such grounds as these! "Tis childish!" "It is not my wish," replied Sumner. "Browne | have cost him a moment's anxiety or doubt, whether seems bent on it, and so does his second-a gunpow- he should obey a wretched conventionality of society, dery colonel." or commit a deadly sin. He would have submitted to any humiliation rather than break the law of love. Yet he experienced an irresistible repugnance and aversion to the deed he meditated; he felt it was a crime, but could not own it to himself. And this increased a hundred-fold the distress of mind with which the mere probability of having to take part in an affair of this nature afflicted him. He consoled himself, however, by the resolution not to fire at his antagonist; and restlessly walking to and fro on the pavement of the square, awaited Mr. D'Aaroni. "You must not compromise me, however," interposed Sumner; “but I may depend on your not doing that. Mind, anything except retracting the epithets I applied to Browne's observations about Lady Agnes, unless he withdraws them." Thus commissioned, Mr. D'Aaroni shook hands with his principal, observing, "I hope all will end well, my dear fellow: but a cantankerous second can always hinder a peaceable arrangement." As soon as Sumner was left to himself, such a mul titude of subjects pressed tumultuously on his mind, that it was some time before he could distinguish any particular one. At length, by way of fixing some of the phantom crowd, he embodied them in the following soliloquy: "Next week, perhaps, no more!-out of being. This morning on terms of amity-to-morrow his pistol pointed at my heart or head!--And she will marry, of course-Marry! Shall I be conscious of it? Psha, what a fool I am! Come what may, I fire in the air; if he may God forgive him and me!" And then the boundless impenetrable invisible future loomed before him, and he could not detect even a glimmer of a hope not one faintest ray of light, streaming from that vast obscure. The moon rode high in the calm blue heaven. The dark pile of the venerable Abbey, silent as the tomb, seemed to be mutely listening, if so be it might catch some echoes of compline chaunts and sweetest vigils, long since hushed within its precincts; while the still moonlight glistened upon the summits of its pinnacles and spires, like the smile of those who fall asleep in Christ. But the upward-reaching spires, roofs and pinnacles of that hallowed fabric, the silver moonlight uniting them as it were with the heaven above, as though symbolical of the spirit of love and faith, struggling up to God from the dark material mass below, possessed no meaning for Sumner. He had never learned, alas! to look upon churches in any higher light than as convenient buildings for sabbatical prayer and preaching. As the earthly symbols of the eternal home of the Redeemed-the heavenly Jerusalem-buildings set apart to such holy uses that every stone, every beam is hallowed;—where the services of Heaven are without ceasing celebrated under material veils ;—the place of the altar and the sacraments ;-where the Church visible and the Church invisible hold rapt communion: never had he been taught to look upon them in such a light as this. If he had, he would not have been treading the precincts of the abbey church and the parliament-house, in bitterness of soul, uncertain whether another hour might not find him pledged to mortal combat with a fellow-man. Never would it After waiting about five minutes, Mr. D'Aaroni approached him with a hurried step; he appeared to be in a state of considerable excitement; his face was flushed, and his eyes wore that glassy brilliancy which is often occasioned by a long and animated discussion. "I have nearly quarrelled with that fellow myself," he said; "Gunpowdery, indeed! The fellow talks as if men were a herd of soulless brutes. I believe it would excite about as strong an emotion in him, if you or Mr. Browne were to be shot to-morrow, as if he were to see a pig killed." "Then, we are to fight?" interrupted Sumner. "No; he is to see Mr. Browne this evening, and meet me to-morrow here, at three o'clock,” replied Mr. D'Aaroni. "I hope what I have said will lead to a reconciliation, as far as Browne is concerned: of that brute, with his swagger, and haw-haw, and moustache, I have no hope." "The suspense is formidable. But I am deeply obliged to you, D'Aaroni, for the interest you have shown in the matter, for the trouble you have taken,” said Sumner. "No thanks, my dear Sumner," replied Mr. D'Aaroni; " if you will be in the way about halfpast four, I will call and let you know the final result. Good night; I am in hopes all will end well." And Harry Sumner having shaken hands with the celebrated man who was acting as his friend, was whirled off in a hack cab towards his sister's resi dence. pied, he joined the ladies in the saloon. Mrs. Sumner | deeply than it expressed, a prey to the most violent had long since retired to rest. "Her Somnolency' emotions. She was looking a little aside from him, and daughter, having partaken of some light refreshment, with a fixed and glassy gaze, like that dead calm in were preparing to depart. The former had for some which the sea at times mirrors the blue heaven when time been keeping up an ineffectual struggle with a storm is gathering in the far west. The blue veins some unforeseen power, which was forcibly dragging in her forehead were unnaturally swollen; the turbid her away into the region of slumbers. The faint life-current beat in visible pulses beneath her fair skin; raising of her eyelids, and abrupt and sonorous termi- her heart-throbs were audible, and her quivering lips nation of a heavy breathing at that very crisis when forcibly compressed, as though some rebellious feelings in another second it must have become a snore, were were struggling for expression. For several seconds, the evidences of what it cost her to keep up the contest it may have been minutes, she maintained the unequal with an adversary which was evidently overpowering contest. At length she found that she could do so no her. At length the failing vitality of the eyelids, and longer. Willingly would she have severed her right the more decided character of the breathing, afforded hand from her wrist, to have utterly forced back and but too conclusive proof that her only safety lay in hidden out of sight every emotion that was now flight. Lady Emma, too, experienced a sense of rending asunder her heartstrings. But it was imweariness in the absence of Harry Sumner and Mr. possible. In spite of herself, her feelings could be Browne. Mr. Perigord was taciturn; Mrs. Perigord's withheld no longer; and, raising her kerchief to her society was for some reason or other uninteresting eyes, she broke forth into a paroxysm of tears. to both mother and daughter; so that the latter was the first to propose the expediency of moving homewards, remarking, 66 "That man- -what is his name?-Shakspeare's plays are so fatiguing. There is no music nor dancing in them to keep one awake." "I think as you do, my dear. I think that nasty Hamlet amongst the bones quite disgusting," chimed in her grace. Lucy Perigord fixed her large blue eyes, with an expression of wonderment, upon mother and daughter, and bade them adieu. As soon as Mrs. Perigord found herself alone with her husband, she drew a chair close to the one on which he was seated; and, resting her clasped hands gently on his shoulder, "George, dear," she said, "how long a time Harry is detained! Did he say when he thought he should be back? hope nothing is the matter!" I "I can give you no information. I do not reckon too great openness amongst your brother's failings," replied Mr. Perigord. At the same time he took his wife's small white hands in his own; and with a touch which shot a thrill of 'pleasure through her whole frame, gently removing them from his shoulder, "My dear Lucy-" he began Warmly she pressed the beloved hands that held her own; and upon her husband's neck she would have given some relief to the pent-up affections of her loving heart. "No, my dear-I mean-do not you thinkhe continued, "at least, I feel the heat of the evening intolerably oppressive; do not you?" And gently withdrawing his hand, he left his wife's hands clasped, and herself transfixed in speechless astonishment. The smothered flame, unable to escape, choked back at every aperture, began to prey upon herself. Mr. Perigord happened to be reading a part of a speech of Mr. D'Aaroni's in the House on the previous evening; and a slight smile expressed his relish of its humour. He raised his eyes slowly from the paper, not being quite certain, at first, whether they were the sounds of laughter or weeping that met his ear; and, observing how matters stood, he started to his feet, and dashed the paper on the table; and, with his thumb and fore-finger dangling his massive gold watch-guard, as he walked hurriedly to and fro in the room,— "On my honour, Lucy," he said with some vehemence, "I used to fancy myself the most placid and amiable of men. You are literally changing me into a passionate one. I cannot endure this, upon my word I cannot!" Oh, my husband, I ask you a thousand pardons !” exclaimed the poor girl, raising her tearful eyes and clasped hands up towards him, in an attitude of anxious entreaty, and her words interrupted with irrepressible sobs. "Do-do-forgive me! I know how annoyed you must be. I will gain strength in time. Oh that you could have seen how I struggled to prevent it! I never knew myself thus before. There must be a cause. Forgive me, George! I am only a woman, you know. I cannot be as strong-minded as you." "Well, well, my dear, for heaven's sake, clear up," he replied. "If that eccentric brother of yours had not gone dancing off at this unseasonable hour, this scene had been avoided;-what think you, Lucy?" Such a smile as Mr. Perigord saw not struggled through her tears as she inquired, What did you say, George? What has become of Harry?" "He and I shall not hit it, I foresee," answered her husband; "if it were not for his great speaking Blind man! For how can he see, who cannot love powers, which I expect will produce a sensation in another than himself? the House, I really think I should get another candidate for Bribeworth." Even if Mr. Perigord had raised his eyes from the columns of the Times newspaper, which he chanced at the time to be perusing, he would not have observed that beauteous image of a heart, that loved even more in a half musing strain, "to oust that Whigling; he is a clever fellow, especially on the hustings. I don't believe money will do it, unless some such candidate as Sumner be pitted against him. Yes, Lucy, your brother is the man! Such speeches were never before heard in the Union.' I heard one myself, and own it was very creditable. But his movements are so eccentric." How do you mean? in what way?" asked Mrs. Perigord. Mr. Perigord looked abstractedly at his wife for a few seconds, and then proceeded,— But will it suit your engagements, dearest?" "Oh! me,-no. You must not think of me; my leaving town just now is out of the question. 'Tis impossible. I ought to have been at the House to-night." Poor Mrs. Perigord! must not even a delusion console her for more than a few seconds at a time? Why do these momentary phantom visions of happi“I scarcely know what to make of him; queer-ness play before her soul at long intervals and disappear, very. Gets plucked instead of a first. Then there is only to make more hideous the night that is deepening some mysterious reason for it, to be told to nobody. "Might he not think the same of you, George? interposed his wife; "you induced mamma to sign some important papers; neither she nor I am to say a word of it to Harry." دو For whose benefit is that, Mrs. Perigord?" he inquired. "Oh! yes, I know that, my dear husband; but why not think that he may have as good a reason for his reserve?" 'If you take my advice," said her husband, "you will exert your influence to make him a little more open to his influential friends. You seem to forget the difference in our respective positions. There is some mystery or other again this evening. Mr. Browne suddenly disappears from our party; a gentleman calls at half-past 10 o'clock, and must see your brother immediately on important business; he too disappears is to be back in half-an-hour-he is not returned in three-quarters; and when he does, take my word for it, there will be more mystery. It will be out of his power to mention' the circumstances to any one." "Oh, George! do not be so hard on poor Harry. Suppose it to be so, he cannot help it," suggested Mrs. Perigord. "By the bye, it has just struck me," continued her husband, not noticing his wife's observation, “I can think of but one sort of business so urgent, that he is likely to be involved in. He must be arranging a duel for some one! Browne's, you may depend on it; that accounts for his sudden disappearing." Mrs. Perigord regarded her husband with a look of unfeigned terror, dismay, and beseeching anxiety; but she dared not trust herself to unclose those trembling lips to give utterance to even so much as an exclamation. She sat for some time perfectly mute and motionless. The silence was at length broken by Mr. Perigord. "My dear Lucy," he said, "I have set my heart on ousting Sir Digby. The gain of that seat will be of more service to me than all my other influence together. I almost doubt our success. I tell you what I think must be done. Pendlebury must be inhabited immediately. You will be so kind as to fete the more influential electors; and Harry must go much amongst them, and make himself as acceptable as he can, if he please." around her? "Oh, George!" she exclaimed, reproachfully, "we have not yet been wedded a fortnight! Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense, my dear," said Mr. Perigord, laying an emphasis on the last iteration, "I wonder you are not more apt at putting things in their right places. That is all very well, of course; but a state must come before a household-a state before a household.” This was too much for the already sinking heart of that loving bride, whom a splendid desolation is even now overtaking-little as she owns it to herself, bitterly as she may struggle to escape from it. "Excuse me for a minute or two," she rapidly articulated, and, hurrying from the room, she glided up the bright and brilliant staircase into her apartment, locked the door, and, falling on her knees and burying her face in her hands and drooping hair, wept long and bitterly; ejaculating ever as her heart-deep sobs permitted, "O my good God! support me! teach me how I may best please Thee! Am I guilty? what-oh! what should I do?" Not as yet well versed in the blessed aids of religion, she nevertheless addressed a fervent appeal for aid to heaven, in the Holy Name; and her pent up and overflowing emotions having now experienced relief, she felt somewhat composed and reassured; and when her brother's knock sounded loudly at the door and reverberated through the house, she was prepared to return to the drawing-room, in the hope of another source of anxiety being removed. To judge from her brother's countenance when he entered, it might have been concluded that the business that had engaged him, whatever it was, had much amused him. Her quick perception, however, instantly detected in his forced gaiety and excitement of manner a confirmation of her fears. "Nothing is the matter, I hope, Harry?" she gently asked. "Nothing very serious, I can see," observed her very sagacious husband. "Nothing worse, Lucy," replied her brother, "than a wretched misunderstanding with Mr. Browne.” "Which means a duel!" (Sumner started), "I presume," suggested Mr. Perigord; "you are acting as his second ?-I thought as much." "You are mistaken, Perigord," was the reply; "I The silver candlestick with its appurtenances shook am NOT." Lucy Perigord drew a deep inspiration, very clearly evidencing the relief her brother's denial had occasioned her. "Whom has he quarrelled with?" she inquired. "My dear Lucy, I am not at liberty to say," he replied. 66 'A woman's curiosity!" she said, gaily; "I ought not to have asked you; I might have known that you would have told me if there were not some excellent reason for your not doing so. The boy's not listening! Will you attend to me, sir? I am not going to be nervous on the occasion, I assure you. Light your sister's taper, Harry, and give her a kiss, before she retires for the night." Harry Sumner hastened to obey his sister's request. "Another mystery!" said Mr. Perigord, whilst the candle was being lighted. A sudden flush of colour mantled over Summer's ample forehead, as, resting the candlestick on the table, and fixing his eyes sternly upon Mr. Perigord, he said with a slow articulation, 'Yes!-You are right-Another mystery!" "Your mysteries must be very inconvenient to yourself, one would think," said Mr Perigord. "You would perhaps deprive me of the selection of my own secrets?" Sumner replied, with a slight bitterness in his tone, which was not assuaged when his brother-in-law answered: "Proper reserve I admire; and am by no means partial to over-communicativeness. But I am of opinion, my young friend, that it would be wiser if you were to be more frank and open to some of your friends-your more influential ones, I mean." "Perish influential!" exclaimed Sumner indignantly; and then, snapping his fingers in the air, he continued, "That is the worth of influence, as you call it, in my estimation. I have no intention of allowing society to point out to me those in whom I should confide. I purpose retaining that right in my own hands. And it may perhaps spare you the trouble of being over-curious in future, to know that you are not one of them, Perigord. A friendship of the bosom nature you speak of, is not an every-day occurrence. It is founded on an instinctive assimilation of tastes and feelings-indeed, of the whole inner being, independent of will and choice." Good night, Harry!" said Mrs. Perigord, embracing her brother, and hastening away to her room; contriving to whisper as she did so, "I wish, dear Harry, you would humour George more." She did not contrive, however, to escape her husband's observation. and rattled in her trembling hand; and her terror was not diminished, when he continued in a still more impassioned manner: "Her exquisite gentleness may do it; but I could as easily swallow the Thames, as give in to and humour your absurd selfimportance." "Or as assume modesty and politeness, I apprehend!" replied Mr. Perigord, with perfect selfpossession and calmness. The perspiration stood out in big drops on Sumner's noble forehead, and indicated the tumult of excitement that was raging within. He swept his hair from his brow with one movement of his hand; his eyes fell; various expressions, satirical, regretful, sorrowful, doubtful, resolute, played about his features; until, raising his eyes, and directing them upon his brother-in-law with that look of openness and generosity which only they could wear, he extended his hand to him, saying, "Forgive me, Perigord-forgive me. I expressed myself in an unpardonably rude manner. It is no excuse, but it will perhaps show you that it was inadvertent, when you know that my interview this evening has thrown me into a great state of excitement. You shall know the nature of it shortly." "I am satisfied, Mr. Sumner," he replied, "but I must caution you, that if I am often to be subjected to this sort of thing, not even your near relationship to Mrs. Perigord will induce me to place myself within reach of it." It was on Sumner's tongue to inform his stately relative, that there could be no imaginable distance out of reach of it so far removed that he should not rejoice to hear of his having availed himself of; but the sweet toned entreaty of his sister still lingered in gentle echoes in his ears, and he controlled himself. "Good night,-good night, Perigord," he said. hastily. "It would pain me greatly to quarrel with my sister's husband." "A word, Sumner, before you go," said Mr. Perigord. "I want you to do me and yourself a favour; and that will explode all differences instantly." "Anything I can do," replied Sumner. "Shall you mind taking a little trouble during your sojourn at Bribeworth, to make yourself popular amongst the electors? " inquired Mr. Perigord. "Lucy is going down with you to help you. Unless something of the sort be done, I shall not save the borough." "My going up for my degree, in October, will be out of the question if I do," he answered. "Not if you have not fixed your heart on your very secondary importance." "Mrs. Perigord, you will select another oppor-class," suggested his selfish brother-in-law. "It is of tunity for your secrets than in my presence," he said, as a hue of sallow whiteness overspread his countenance. "Your wife was imploring me to yield more to you, sir!" Sumner replied, with an excitement of manner and gesture which terrified his gentle sister. "You did not seem to think so-" Sumner began; but, correcting himself, "As far as it concerns myself alone," he proceeded, "it is a matter of complete indifference to me; but I fear my mother and Lucy will be disappointed.” "Not when they know the reason," suggested the | ciple-a standard-a rule, or anything by which I can squire of Bribeworth. "I confess I wish you had invariably direct myself? It should not be thus. been as successful the other day as every one made I wonder if that glorious curate of old Lamb's parish sure you would. But if our choice lies between could give me any information? Did I feel certain losing the borough or your class, if you yourself are what I ought to do, no consideration on earth should indifferent to the latter, I cannot have a moment's induce me to swerve." doubt which should yield-can you? "If I am to enter on a parliamentary life," was the he was reclining, and walked up and down the room reply. "If you go into parliament!" exclaimed Mr. Perigord, "I should hope you do not meditate being one of the waste-their-fragrance-on-the-desert-air people." “There is, at least, one startling obstacle in the way," he replied. "The little estate I own is too small for a qualification." "You are already in possession of a qualification," said the squire. "I have seen to that." "Excuse me, Perigord,” replied Sumner; "I can not hear of it. If it be a bona fide transaction, I have no right to expect so costly a present at your hands; and if it be not, it would be still more objectionable to me. It" "Not so fast-not so fast, pray," interposed Mr Perigord. "You're lunging at windmills, friend Quixote. Mrs. Summer has transferred to me some shares in the Huxtable and Bribeworth Railway, and I have, in return, made over to you Chipping Basset, the clear rental of which is about 2107. per annum." "Well, this is a tolerably extensive transaction for me not to have heard a word of," said Sumner. His brother informed him that he had taken the precaution of exacting a promise from Mrs. Sumner and his sister, that they would leave it to him to name it. "And then complain of my uncommunicativeness and mystery!" he exclaimed. "I am, then, to begin at once to pay my addresses to my native town. Nothing loth! The election days may chance just to miss the examination. If so, all will be well." This concluded the conversation. Sumner wished his intriguing relative easy repose, and retired for the night. The slight distraction of his thoughts effected by his conversation with his brother-in-law, seemed to increase the sinking sensation he experienced as soon as he found himself alone in his apartment. "Here am I," he said to himself, "entering into all manner of arrangements for years to come; and the day after to-morrow I may have altogether disappeared from the scene. And is one's life a whit more secure at any time? If that quarrelsome fellow insists on fighting, I do not think I can make up my mind to place your happiness, my dearest mother, at the mercy of Mr. Browne's pistol. Have I the right, come what may to myself for declining the encounter, to run the risk of occasioning such misery to her-not to mention Lucy? The world says, Yes-I say, No. What ought I to do? What must I do? I know not. Why am I riding on the sea of life in this aimless, reckless manner? What is this complex problem of which I form a part, without a prin As he said this he rose from the sofa on which for a considerable time, deeply and silently musing. He was aroused from his reverie by the sound of many clocks striking the first hour of the day; and, falling on his knees, he performed his usual evening devotion. It was a cold and inexpressive form he used; but this was his misfortune, not his fault. It was, however, whilst on his knees thus engaged this evening, that an eastern light seemed to dawn before him, and it might have been a voice, or only thoughts of unusual vividness, but it was to his mind as though one said, "Is it not the next world that you should altogether live for in this?" "It is! It is!" he exclaimed aloud, as he rose from his knees. Going to the window, he withdrew the gorgeous hangings, and looking out into the night, he saw the calm moon shedding down its light upon the still metropolis, from the blue abyss of distance, and the bright myriads of surrounding worlds; and his imagination tracked the round universe of which they were all he saw. A deep drawn sigh escaped him-"What must eternity be!" was the question he involuntarily breathed forth into the still night air; and, retiring from the window, and re-closing the curtains, he ascended his couch, and saying, "Harry Sumner, good night," fell asleep. A SKETCH OF ST. BEES. ST. BEES, a very large parish on the coast of Cumberland, is so extensive, that besides the town of Whitehaven, which contains 11,854 inhabitants, it comprises several chapelries and townships; the population of But although the the whole parish being 19,687. parish is thus large, yet the village, which is more which is the more immediate subject of this sketch, is properly understood by the name of St. Bees, and comparatively small, containing only about 1,200 people. It is here that the mother church is situated; and so much is it considered the parent by the inhabitants of the distant townships, that, if practicable, they prefer being married there; and on the joyous festival of Easter, so many resort thither to partake of the holy communion, that the clergy find it necessary to provide an extra administration to enable them all to communicate. long be able to reach it by one of the numerous threads A tourist seeking the village of St. Bees will ere of that iron net-work which is now so rapidly dissecting our lovely country. The line of railway by which he will then travel, is being formed through a valley which is thus mentioned by Wordsworth: "From Whitehaven to St. Bees extends a track of level |