picted the anxious look, the secret horror, the desperation of the wife; the composure, the devotional air of the husband. The one, with all the agitations of earth and earthly affections within her mind; the other, with a soul already on the wing, and enjoying the calm of heaven.

"But I must end my tale-the flame fed by sin, and in those days a grievous one was it deemed, the sin of the Iconoclast, was neither bright nor blessed it burnt but for a time, it gave forth but a dull, red glare, and, at length, suddenly expired, just as the day began to dawn in the east.

"At this crisis, the Baron De La Zouch, who thirsted for the blood of his hated rival in love and arms, burst into the chamber; his steps had been hastened by an alarm given by the watch, that a body of horsemen was seen advancing towards Walreddon. As he thus suddenly entered the fatal chamber of misery and expected death, his rapid glance turned on the Lady Matilda, who, still bending over the expiring lamp, retained in her hands the last remaining pieces of the waxen image she had so sacri

legiously employed. In a moment he comprehended all the rest; and neither moved to pity by a sense of the devoted conjugal love that could inspire such an act of desperation, to save a husband's life, bent only on revenge, and knowing that, in a few minutes, the rescue would be within the walls, he drew his dagger and advanced to plunge it into the breast of his disarmed and unfortunate prisoner.

"At the sight of this, the heroic and devoted wife of De Mewey threw herself so suddenly before him, that she received in her bosom the blow designed for the murder of her husband. The dying lady cast an affectionate look on her beloved lord; and although she could not speak, she had strength enough left to draw forth the dagger, and like a second Æria in death, seemed by her looks to give Sir Richard De Mewey the same assurance that the Roman lady did to Petus, when she declared to her husband that the stroke of death, received for his sake, was not painful. In a few minutes. she expired.

"Assailed with sudden fear at the effects

of his own cruel passion, which, in the blindness of its fury, had caused him to strike the woman he had once so much loved, De La Zouch stood mute and motionless with horror; and ere he could sufficiently master his emotions to decide how to act at this crisis, the expected rescue entered the tower wherein this tragedy had been so recently enacted, and where, if tradition speaks truth, an immediate revenge was not permitted to take place; for La Zouch was strongly armed, clad in complete steel, and had assistance at hand.

"He escaped that night in safety; but it was only to fall soon after by the hand of De Mewey, in a deadly strife of arms, where the injured man most fully wreaked his vengeance on the murderer of his unhappy wife. After this, Sir Richard De Mewey continued to live for some years a melancholy and wayward life. At length he married his only daughter and heiress to a noble baron, of Norman extraction (from whom, in a direct line, my late father was descended), and then having done with the world, he gave to his child the mansion and domain of Wal

reddon, with many other mansions and lands, and retiring to the Abbey of Tavistock, assumed the cowl, and there died a monk.

"Such is the history of this brave and illfated pair. But not with herself died the effects of the Lady de Mewey's desperation, in the sin she had committed by destroying an image so sacred, so revered. The superstitious spirit of the times in which she lived, was not silent on her act, and the records of the Abbey of Tavistock mentioned as a fearful warning, the result of her crime. Even to this day, a tradition of it exists in which the village gossips devoutly put their trust, as they relate it with awe around a winter's hearth. The tradition in question avers, that on certain days held more especially sacred by their connexion with the leading events in the life of the Virgin Mary, and on the anniversary of the Lady De Mewey's death, a light of no earthly flame is seen to burn and glimmer, from even till morn, in the fatal chamber of the De Mewey Tower. To this circumstance, some persons have ascribed the abandonment and neglect into which that tower has been

permitted to fall, till it has become little better than a ruin. Yet in spite of tradition of evil spirits and supernatural appearances, should life be spared to me once more to see the blessings of peace restored to the West, it is my intention to repair that tower, and with the chapel, to render it useful and habitable to my household."

Thus ended Lady Howard's tale. The rest of that evening passed delightfully; so delightfully, it would make but a poor figure in record, for all was harmony, and to my mind, at least, enchantment. The spell was in the presence of the beautiful Emily; although the other two ladies were quite beyond even those who are usually deemed superior women; and notwithstanding the eccentricity of manner often so marked in the conversation and demeanour of the Lady Isabella, she had many points of resemblance with her daughter, and could not fail therefore to please. I know but one thing more worthy of record in this night's discourse; and that I shall mention, because it will serve not only to illustrate the times of which I write, but will also throw some light