hanged?'

'He is, my love,' replied Lady Annabel; 'what I sometimes thought he
might, what I always hoped he would, be.'

'He really seemed happy to meet us again, and yet how strange that for
years he should never have communicated with us.'

'Not so very strange, my love! He was but a child when we parted, and
he has felt embarrassment in resuming connections which for a long
interval had been inevitably severed. Remember what a change his life
had to endure; few, after such an interval, would have returned with
feelings so kind and so pure!'

'He was always a favourite of yours, mamma!'

'I always fancied that I observed in him the seeds of great virtues
and great talents; but I was not so sanguine that they would have
flourished as they appear to have done.'

In the meantime the subject of their observations strolled home
on foot, for he had dismissed his horses, to the abbey. It was a
brilliant night, and the white beams of the moon fell full upon the
old monastic pile, of which massy portions were in dark shade while
the light gracefully rested on the projecting ornaments of the
building, and played, as it were, with the fretted and fantastic
pinnacles. Behind were the savage hills, softened by the hour; and on
the right extended the still and luminous lake. Cadurcis rested for
a moment and gazed upon the fair, yet solemn scene. The dreams of
ambition that occasionally distracted him were dead. The surrounding
scene harmonised with the thoughts of purity, repose, and beauty that
filled his soul. Why should he ever leave this spot, sacred to him by
the finest emotions of his nature? Why should he not at once quit
that world which he had just entered, while he could quit it without
remorse? If ever there existed a being who was his own master, who
might mould his destiny at his will, it seemed to be Cadurcis. His
lone yet independent situation, his impetuous yet firm volition, alike
qualified him to achieve the career most grateful to his disposition.
Let him, then, achieve it here; here let him find that solitude he had
ever loved, softened by that affection for which he had ever sighed,
and which here only he had ever found. It seemed to him that there
was only one being in the world whom he had ever loved, and that was
Venetia Herbert: it seemed to him that there was only one thing in
this world worth living for, and that was the enjoyment of her sweet
heart. The pure-minded, the rare, the gracious creatur