rambles which her own situation and the weakness of her friend rendered alike necessary to both.

In the mean time her mind was relieved by hearing constantly from Ormsby of the successful progress of his inquiries relative to Santelmo; and also by learning that the proceedings for the divorce had been commenced, and were going on without any fear of further delay.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

ORMSBY's absence had been unexpectedly protracted, by the difficulty he had found in accumulating from so many different quarters, and in a foreign land, the conclusive proofs of Santelmo's birth, and in tracing his identity through the different situations of his early life. But at length Matilda received from him the glad tidings that his disinterested labours had been brought to a successful termination, and that the evidence he had obtained was such as could not be resisted in any court of justice. He added, that, as the speediest mode of returning to her, he should embark in a felucca at Genoa, and again should have the inexpressible delight of beholding her on the day immediately succeeding that

in which she received the letter. In conclusion, he congratulated himself on the intelligence he had received from England, that Sir James Dornton's divorce bill had already passed one branch of the Legislature, and that, therefore, almost immediately upon his return he should have it in his power to make her irrevocably his.

"I am aware," said her friend, Mrs. Sydney, upon this intelligence being communicated to her, "I am aware that, in the minds of many excellent persons, very considerable doubts are entertained as to the propriety of these marriages; but, in my humble opinion, it is contrary to the benevolent principles of our religion to place any one in a state of irreclaimable sin. Many I know of those who have been thus redeemed, have afterwards been irreproachable as wives and mothers; and in your particular case, I trust that the salutary interval of solitary repentance may have so chastened your mind, as that you will be properly prepared solemnly to undertake these new duties." Matilda bowed her head in humble acquiescence.

The morning of the day on which Ormsby was expected was serene and brilliant; it was one of those extraordinary efforts of nature, which, in that delicious climate, defying the calculations of the calendar, charm one with a feeling of summer security even in the midst of winter. Matilda had persuaded her friend to accompany her to the farther

extremity of the terrace which faces the sea; and on the smooth and sunny horizon her eye had long been fixed, endeavouring to catch the first glimpse of the expected vessel. But there was not, on all this wide expanse of waters, even one white wave to be seen which for a moment she could mistake for a shining sail. Still it was early, and the kind efforts of Mrs. Sydney to calm her impatience were for some time not entirely without success. Yet hour passed after hour, and still he came not. At length the sun, which had played on the rippled surface before them, had now retired in its daily course to glitter on the still snowy summit of the Alps behind them; and the short hectic cough of Mrs. Sydney, which this chilly change aggravated, reminded Matilda of the danger of indulging in the selfish pleasure of longer detaining her there. She insisted, therefore, on her immediately leaving her, and returning home.

When deprived of her companion Matilda's impatience, of course, increased. "With so fair a wind," she thought, "he might have been here before now." As she uttered these words, she started at a sudden gust which, rustling in the fallen leaves, carried them before her in a sort of whirlwind, to a considerable distance. In her present state of nervous excitement, even so trifling an incident for a moment checked that bounding sense of happiness which she had previously in vain endeavoured to repress, though her reproving conscience told her, that the

one.

pleasure she anticipated was a forbidden and guilty But this transitory uneasiness again subsided with the momentary agitation of the passing breeze which caused it; and yet a little while she indulged the unbroken hope of the expected meeting.

Left alone to revel uninterruptedly in the enjoyment of her excited feelings, she now eagerly sought a remote promontory, from which she thought she might command a more distant prospect of the course he must come. But when at length she did reach that point, wide and wild enough was the scene that met her view, yet far different from that which she had fondly anticipated.

Those alone who have actually experienced the awful manner in which, without the least warning of impending danger, tremendous squalls suddenly burst upon the Mediterranean, can form any adequate idea of the almost miraculous change which now took place in the appearance of all things around, and of the accumulating horrors which abruptly presented themselves to the anxious eyes of our heroine. Heavy rolling clouds were collecting on all sides-their darkness and gloom aggravated by the struggling rays of the setting sun, which were making a last effort to pierce through their increasing density.

As she reached the rock she had so anxiously sought, the extensive waste of waters was still discernible, yet not, as an hour since, just rippling

their otherwise unbroken surface, but "curling their monstrous heads" to meet the lowering vapours from above. For a moment she stood rooted to the spot, unmoved even by the violence of the gale, which blew with peculiar force around the point. A cold chill ran through her veins. Even as suddenly as the outward appearance of all around had been sadly changed, the fond hopes she had so lately cherished yielded to an overwhelming sense of impending evil. The low, hollow murmur of distant thunder lingered like the knoll of death upon her ear. She pressed her hands upon her breast, and rushed wildly down upon the beach. Utterly unconscious was she how long, with feelings of mental agony far superior to any sense of personal suffering, she wandered in the neighbourhood of that dreary point.

It was only in the aggravation of her fears for him in whom self was utterly absorbed, that she felt the pelting rain which drenched her light garments; it was only as it impeded her clearer view of the boundless ocean, that she regarded the heavy spray which dashed unceasingly against her delicate frame. But it was no fleeting form assumed by the ever-varying spray-it was no fancied creation of her troubled spirit, when, almost within reach of the shore, rising upon the darkness before her, a light sail met her eye. One moment she caught it, as waving wildly in the wind, it flapped heavily over the heads of those