n despair left it, and again clearing fence and brook,
held his course towards the city of Montreal, where he arrived
betwixt midnight and dawn, and with the butt of his riding-whip
knocked at the advocate's door.

The old man was dreaming of the apparently fair fortune of Amanda;
of the ingenuous Claude, and of his father, the importunate and
imperious Seigneur, when the clang rung through the mansion, and
rudely dispelled his visions. At first he was doubtful as to the
reality of the alarm, and was dropping again to sleep, when once
more the riding-whip sent the startling summons, and leaping from
his bed, he threw open the window, and putting his head out, gruffly
demanded, who was there.

"Claude Montigny," was answered from beneath.

"And what wants Claude Montigny at this hour?" asked the advocate,
who now perceived the figures of steed and dismounted rider beneath
him in the obscurity.

"Dress instantly, and quick come down," was the reply. The window
closed, and in a few minutes the advocate, with his morning gown
thrown over him, opened the door.

"Why how is this?" he demanded in astonishment, as he beheld Claude
on the footwalk, whip in one hand, and with the other holding his
horse by the bridle.

Claude stood silent.

"How is this?" reiterated the advocate: "Out with it, man. Is your
father wild? does he threaten to disinherit you?"

"Not that, but worse:" Claude answered; "worse than your worst
suspicions, and it may be worse than the death of one you much
regard."

"Has any thing evil happened to my ward?" asked the advocate,
exhibiting alarm. "Why do you pause? Inform me quickly."

"Too quickly, perhaps, I shall inform you," replied Claude,
deprecatingly. "Something evil has happened to your ward. Arm
yourself now with firmness, and be calm; be cool in judgment, prompt
in execution; you who can counsel others, now prepare to be the
best counsellor to yourself."

"What act shall follow this preamble?" said the lawyer, raising
his thick, white, shaggy eyebrows in enquiring wonder: "Go on, go
on;" he commanded in a short, gasping utterance; "declare the pains
and penalties. She lives? Amanda lives? Has she proved false? You
have not lost her?"

"Lost her! oh!" exclaimed Claude, unable to curb his emotion.

"Nay, confess it; announce the worst; the broadest misfortune; my
ears are open for it," pursued the other.

"But I have no heart, no tongue to fill them with my dire news,"
Claude st