a glance the havoc which misery and sorrow had made in him. His thinned and whitened hair; his wrinkled, and care-worn, and haggard countenance; his stooping, enfeebled figure; how different to the bold-fronted, and strong-limbed Jeffkins of former years! But she was not surprised at all this; she had seen the beginning of this pulling down of his human strength and pride before she left London; and the sad terminating scene of the tragedy must necessarily have ploughed too deeply into heart and frame not to have left ineffaceable traces. A faint expression of pleasure, a smile it could not be called, beamed over his countenance, like the pale sunshine of a winter's day; and that expression was infinitely touching. It came for a moment, and then was gone again; and Agnes saw how unused that face was to any shadow of gladness. He did not offer his hand at first, nor did he trust his voice to utter a word. Agnes, however, offered hers with a gentle kindness that called tears to his eyes. He grasped her hand, and turned aside his face to weep. "You have found them!" said Agnes, thinking it best at once to face the subject for which they met. "Thank Heaven! you have found them poor Mrs. Marchmont and the child!" 66 "Silence! for Heaven's sake!" interrupted Agnes with a commanding voice. "Is it for this that you have sent for me? In the open sunshine and the free air of heaven to curse a sinful fellowcreature!" 66 Forgive me!" said Jeffkins, with a pale and agonized countenance; "but you know not the hell of hatred and vengeance that is within me. God forgive me!" continued he, " for I, too, am a sinner: but I have suffered worse than martyrdom in the ruin and perdition of my girl! Oh Miss Agnes," said he, without a tear in his eye, but with an anguish of heart which made large drops of sweat stand like beads upon his forehead, all that you were to your father, she was to me! For what was I a proud man? for her! For what did I toil and hoard up my hard-earned gains? for her! She it was who gladdened my nights and my mornings! For her I thought; for her 1 prayed; for her I would have died! If I were harsh to her; if I denied her even a ribbon, 66 And made myself suffer some privation too! She knew not-no one knew, how I loved her! she was worthy of my love; she was pure and loving till that scoundrel met with her, and ruined her! What wonder then is it, that I should curse him! My very nature is changed when I think of him! I believed myself to have been resigned. I thought that I had said in the midst of my affliction and suffering, with my entire heart, Thy will be done! But it was not so! I thirst now for vengeance. God only keep my hands from shedding blood; but let me have vengeance!" said he, and ground his teeth together with an expression of ineffable hatred. May the Lord reward you!" said he. "But, I have suffered a deal! The child is like her. God in Heaven! I thought it would have killed me when I saw it first; the same complexion: the same eyes; the same expression! But- -" and here he clasped his hands tightly together, as if keeping back some strong feeling, while he groaned as if from the depths of his soul-"I have heard much from Mrs. Marchmont, the truth of which I must know. I have heard surmises as to "Alas!" said Agnes, mildly but sorrowfully, the father of the child. A desire has taken pos-"how little did I expect this. I thought that the session of me to see him, to speak to him-to him! the betrayer of my unhappy daughter! Oh there was no dewy flower more pure than she, until she left me-until she met with him! There is a heavy debt between us. God knows only how it must be paid!" He pressed his hand upon his brow, walked backwards and forwards a few paces, and then continued, "You saw my unhappy daughter, Miss Lawford, the night before you left London. God knows, but most likely you were the last human being in whom she put any confidence, perhaps the last to whom she addressed a word. She loved you, she trusted you when she dared not to trust me. Ah, I was harsh and unsympathizing to her; and bitterly have I been punished! She left to your care the child whom she had abandoned. Tell me then," said he, fixing his eye sternly and searchingly upon Agnes, "did she name to you the father of her child? Answer me as you would God at the last judgment! did she, or did she not? I conjure you, by your blessed father's memory, not to sport with my feelings, but tell me, yes, or no!" "She did!" replied Agnes. affliction with which you had been visited, had purified, at the same time that it had stricken you! Christ, who endured so much for our sakes, prayed for his murderers!" "I too," returned Jeffkins, "could have prayed for mine. But there are sufferings far worse than even the most painful and ignominious death, and these I have borne! Do you deem it a light thing to have seen my daughter dead by her own hands -a thing of infamy and despite; to know that she had gone from sin to judgment; that, humbled, outraged, and in despair, she had fled from life which was a burden to her, to death, her only refuge! Is this a light thing to bear?" "but No, it is not light," returned Agnes; God lays no burdens upon us, and permits none to be laid, which we have not strength to bear! You have been stricken to the dust, but He has not forgotten you. He has placed in your hands the child of that unfortunate mother. Her end was bitter; but God is merciful, and in its very bitterness I can see her cure. He who suffered Mary Magdalene to wash his feet with her tears, is not less merciful, is not less full of pity and forgiveness now than then! Foor Fanny's life was lat “Name him then?" said Jeffkins, in a low butterly one of sin; but God knows, if the soul conterrible voice. Agnes hesitated. "I will know the man," resumed Jeffkins, "who dragged that innocent girl to perdition; who blasted her young life with sin and sorrow! I will know the man who has made me childlesswho has blasted my life-who has filled my soul with the passions of a demon. Tell me, what is his name, that I may hate him: that I may pray God to curse sented. Do not distrust God, dear friend, said she, laying her hand softly on his arm. "I be lieve that there are greater sinners, against whom the world brings no accusation, than your poor daughter-even as, among her accusers, there was not found one guiltless enough to cast a stone at the woman taken in adultery. These gentle words, like the rod of Moses on the rock in Horeb, called forth tears. One after another, they chased each other down his hollow cheeks, and Agnes continued-"God, as I said, has not forgotten you: he has work for you yet to do. He has called you out of your cheerless affliction to a high and a holy duty-to preach to the poor, to touch the heart of the sinner by words of love; to pray by the dying; to be a father to a child more forlorn than an orphan! Is it then for you to cherish hatred and thoughts of vengeance in your soul to meditate upon that which may lead to deeds of blood? to take upon yourself the authority of God, who says that vengeance is mine! Oh no! yours is a work of love: you are to be a disciple of Christ, and to labor in his spirit. And depend upon it that the betrayer of your daughter will be visited by a pang more severe than even that of a dagger. Remorse and repentance will visit him. But leave all punishment to God. He has called you to a brighter and a better mission; that of love and forgiveness. Jeffkins seated himself on the tree, and bowing his face to his knees wept bitterly. "You have saved my soul!" at length he said, raising his head, whilst a mild expression beamed upon his countenance. "I will do thy will, oh Lord!" "You will pray," said Agnes, " that your sins be forgiven to you, even as you forgive those who sin against you." "So help me God, I will!" returned Jeffkins. "You will forgive him who has been worse even than a murderer to you!" said Agnes. "So help me God!" said he, raising his eyes and his hands to heaven; " and more, even, if that may be!" "Behold him, then!" said she, sinking down upon the tree beside him, and laying her hand on his arm. Tom Lawford on horseback, as on the former occasion, rode up the dingle, humming a low air to himself, and beating time to it with his riding whip. Jeffkins seemed at once as if deprived of volition. A pallor stole over his countenance; his eyes ned starting from their sockets; and like a statue, his convulsive breathing alone telling that life was within him, he sat looking at the young man between the tree-branches as he passed. When he was out of sight, a sort of shudder passed over his frame; and, clasping his hands before his face, he sat for some moments in silent, but agonizing communion with his own soul and God. "May the Almighty Father bless you, and strengthen you for His good work and to your own peace!" said Agnes, with deep emotion, and clasped hands, as she stood before him. Jeff kins looked her in the face with an expression of pity-" It is then a Lawford, as I was told-one who could have had no thought or will to make her his wife; and at your prayer, and for your sake, I have forgiven him!" "Not for my sake," replied Agnes; "but for the sake of God, who is the Father of us all, and of Jesus Christ, who is our Saviour, our Friend, and our Teacher in all things!" "I have forgiven him," again said Jeffkins. "Hand of mine shall never be raised to injure him, nor shall my tongue curse him. But," said he, solemnly addressing Agnes, "for the sake of virtue, for the sake of what womanhood suffered in the person of my poor girl-her downfall and her death-listen not to him! Let him not win | your heart as he has won others! May blessed angels watch over you! and, if the prayers of a poor sinner like me may prevent a mischief or a sorrow, they shall be yours night and morning!" He turned him about to go; his countenance was mild, but sorrowful; he stood more erect, and he trod with a firmer step. He had listened to the voice of God, who had given him a holy vocation, and his whole being was strengthened and ennobled by it. Again he turned back, and blessed Agnes: she gave him her blessing in return. They parted, and each slowly took their different ways. CHAPTER XVI. The dinner-bell had rung both at the hall and the rectory, where all the guests were assembled, before Agnes reached home. There was no one to dine there that day, but Agnes and her uncle; and the old gentleman was very angry that she had not returned in time to sit down with him. He had taken his soup, and was busy over his boiled capon when she entered. She never had seen him so angry with her before; and, what was worse, she could not give any satisfactory account of that which had detained her so long. She had been no farther than the dingle at the bottom of the park, and yet she had been away quite three hours. It was a very thoughtless thing of her, he said, to go sauntering about by herself in lonesome places in that way-how could she tell but that she might meet with that fellow Marchmont, and even worse than he? It was very improper of her! He used to think, he said, that Mrs. Colville complained of her outré notions without cause; but he should not think so any longer now! Through more than half the dinner he scolded her, and through the remainder of it he said nothing at all; and Agnes, who was more occupied in mind and more agitated in feeling by her interview with Jeff kins than even by her uncle's displeasure, allowed him to maintain his silence unbroken. After his customary after-dinner nap, Agnes went in as usual, just before his hour for tea. She was resolved that the good old man should now have, as far as she was concerned, one of those quietly amusing evenings of which he was so fond He was fortunately one of those persons who can bear to hear the same story ten times over; so, resolving to struggle against her own abstraction of mind, and determining not to go to Mrs. Sam's that night, she thought over her best stories and her drollest anecdotes, intending to introduce them very cunningly, and to while away his ill-humor by compelling him to laugh. With the tea, however, there was brought in a note from Mrs. Sam, which was to beg that Agnes would come, without fail, and to desire her to bring such and such quadrilles with her, as they all knew she excelled in playing. "My dear," and "my dearest Agnes," occurred again and again in the note; but for all that she did not feel flattered into any spirit of compliance. "What is it?" asked the old gentleman, pettishly. "Is it from Mrs. Sam?" "Mrs. Colville left word," said the footman, addressing his master," when she went, that Miss Agnes must go as soon as possible, and Sampson is now waiting to go back with her." Sampson was Mrs. Colville's own servant, and had accompanied his mistress to the rectory; he" neither you nor I must go into the room looking had now brought the note, and waited to attend doleful. And I wish you had put on your ornathe young lady back. ments! I am quite angry that you have not done so!" "I have no wish to go," said she, addressing her uncle" I very much prefer staying with you.' "It's no use stopping with me," returned the old gentleman; and I insist upon your going!" Agnes begged at all events to stay with him till after tea; but he was out of humor, and resolute. He insisted upon her going, even though it were only to play for other people's dancing; he could see nothing unreasonable in it, he said; and, to humor even his ill-humor, and quite against her own inclination, Agnes went out to prepare her toilette. Sampson respectfully hinted to her, in passing him in the hall, that he was ordered to return instantly, and not to forget the music. It was only to play for other people's dancing that she was sent for, and therefore it seemed to her needless to array herself in her new attire; so, making her ordinarily best dress look its best, and with no other ornament than a bouquet of geranium in her bosom, she set off to the rectory. It was a lovely night; here and there a bird twittered in the trees, as they passed; the grasshoppers chirped; and the deer, which lay for the night under a broad oak near the road, started up as they passed, and trotted away a few paces. The very soul of repose lay over everything; but Agnes' mind was not in a state to receive its influence. She could not cease thinking of Jeff kins and his passion of hatred and revenge, and then, like Balaam, blessing the man whom he came to curse. They entered the drawing-room, where there were evidently signs of something beyond an impromptu dance. The moment her Aunt Colville saw her, she came to her also across the room, her countenance giving evidence of rigorous displeasure. "What in the world has possessed you to come dressed in this manner? It is quite a disrespect to us all? And what could make you stop out so long this afternoon ?-you ought to have been back long before it was time for us to go. It was very thoughtless of you; and now to come dressed that figure!" "Never mind my dress, dear aunt,” said Agnes, assuming a cheerful air: "I am only going to play." Her cousin also whispered to her, with dissatisfaction in his countenance," that she should have put on her new dress. And Ada says," said he. as if he knew nothing of the matter, "that you have some handsome new ornaments-why did you not wear them? We all wanted you to look your very best to-night!" Agnes made no reply; she thought of the last time she had seen him, not many hours before, when she had turned almost the hand of a murderer aside from him. How little can one human being understand the heart of another! Tom thought that Agnes was out of humor; and, really out of humor himself, he turned hastily from her to flirt with the silliest girl in the room. "That is Mr. Frank Lawford's daughter, who has sat down to the piano," said George Bridport to the gentleman who stood next to him. "But devilish ill-dressed for a party like this," said George Bridport, loud enough for her to hear him. Light streamed from the rectory windows; and the gay, laughing voices of young people, who had The gentleman looked at her through his eyewalked out of the heated rooms into the lovely glass-She is a devilish pretty figure," said he, flower-scented garden that surrounded the house," and has beautiful eyes! 'Pon my word, I think came like sounds from a totally different world to she is a pretty girl!" that in which Agnes' mind was thrown. She was now in the garden itself. Lightly-attired forms, each paired with a dark attendant, walked slowly along, laughing aloud, or listening to the low discourse of the apparently enamored attendant. Agnes heard that Mrs. Acton was at this party, and Mr. Latimer also, as the lion of the night. Him she fancied that she saw in the distance, with Ada leaning on his arm. Happy Ada! sighed she, as she often had done before. But Ada was not in the garden, whatever Latimer might be. Ada came up stairs the moment she heard that Agnes was arrived, impatient to see her, and, as she said, to arrange her toilette before she went down stairs. "But I am not dressed," said Agnes. Ada seemed annoyed-" At all events you have your new ornaments on," remarked she. 66 No, I have not," returned Agnes. "I have only come as a piece of mechanism, to play while you dance. I am not at all in a company mood to-night, dear Ada," said she, trying to keep back some tears, which, she could hardly tell why, seemed as if they would come into her eyes. At this moment, Mrs. Acton, who was only just then aware of her being in the room, seated herself by her, and talked to her kindly and cheerfully. Mrs. Sam, in the mean time, had duly informed the company that Miss Agnes Lawford was so good as to offer to play a few quadrilles. The young people were delighted-they came flocking in from the garden, bringing a cool, fresh air with them. All was bustle and animation, bows and smiles, of beseeching and assenting partners; and now the quadrille was formed, and Agnes began to play. She played beautifully, people said, remarking that it was delightful to dance to music like this; they thought she must be a great musical genius. Mr. Latimer danced with Ada. They, too, had only come in as the quadrille was formed, and Agnes had not exchanged a word with him. When the first set was ended, he came to her, and asked her to dance the second with him. Mrs. Acton, at that very moment, was insisting upon taking Agnes' place at the piano. "The young "Neither am I," said Ada, revealing all at men would be in despair, if you were to set all the once, spite of her beauty, that some sad and evening," said she, laughing. 'My brother, I am troubling thought was in her heart, "and I shall sure, would scold me, if I were to allow you to be thankful when this night is over! But, how-play the next quadrille." These words were on ever," said she, assuming a sudden gaiety, her lips, as he in person made his request. 66 Many people thronged about her to thank her for her playing. They had never danced to better music before. She must be very fond of music, &c. &c. "But my dress," said Agnes, appealing to Mrs. Acton. "I only came to play, really.' 66 Your dress is charming-most becoming to you," whispered she to Agnes; and then, turning to the admirers of Agnes' music, she said, that they must be contented with something less perfect this time, for Miss Agnes was going to dance. Agnes thought of her aunt, and of Mrs. Sam, and begged again to decline; and Latimer stood and looked at her with a calm and yet admiring countenance, which more than anything else disconcerted her. "I cannot think of your sitting down to the piano, Mrs. Acton," said Mrs. Sam coming up. Indeed I cannot! Agnes was so good as to offer; it is very good-natured of her: yes, she does play beautifully," said she to some admirer of Agnes' musical power. "I am not sure, though, that Agnes dances, Mr. Latimer. I believe you do not, Agnes." Of course Agnes ought to have said no; but she did not, and to prevent any other answer Mrs. Sam went on: I wish now, as the young people seem to enjoy dancing so much, that I had a musician for the night; but I was uncertain whether a dance would be liked. Our rooms are not large," said she, glancing from one end of her handsome drawing-room to the other. the fact, because I am the poorest and the worstdressed girl in the room!" She resolved to be as gay as the rest. Young Bridport thought that the eyes of his vis-a-vis were even more beautiful than he had at first imagined, and that really she looked such a thorough-bred gentlewoman, that he could no longer think her ill-dressed. Nothing but the most general conversation passed between Mr. Latimer and herself; but when that quadrille was ended she determined to dance no more that night. Many young men, when it was finished, offered themselves as her partners, but she resolutely sat down to the instrument to play. From a cause which was, many people believed, easy of explanation, the next quadrille was not nearly so well played as the former one. Mr. Latimer took his place beside her, and Ada, who had declined dancing, sat on the other side of the room. A da seemed neither chagrined nor neglected: many admirers, the least enamored of whom by no means was the handsome George Bridport, were around her; but for all that, Agnes never lost the thought of her. "I wish I could transport you to the vacant chair beside Ada!" thought Agnes, as Mr. Latimer's hand turned over each succeeding page of her music-book. Mrs. Colville was winning one rubber after another at whist, so that she saw not what was going forward: but Mrs. Sam was busily looking I pray you to intercede for me," said Mr. after the dancing, and she noticed this malapropos Latimer, taking hold of Agnes' hand, and address-adjustment of persons with great dissatisfaction. ing Mrs. Sain; "she declines dancing. If she will not be my partner I shall sit down myself," said he laughing. "You have not played this last quadrille well," said Mrs. Sam, who had determined some time before that there should be no more dancing; "but "We must not let you sit," said Mrs. Sam, I dare say, dear, you are anxious to get back to assuming at once a gay humor : you do Agnes papa. She is so attentive to papa," said she, great honor; and of course she will not decline; turning to Mr. Latimer, "and he is so poorly tobut I had no idea that she danced," said she, look-day, it was almost cruel to bring her out. ing very significantly at her. 66 "I will now go quietly home," said Agnes, aside to Mrs. Sam. I will make no adieus." "But I know not how we can spare any one to go home with you," said Mrs. Sam, who knew that supper would soon be announced. 'My servant shall walk with her," said Mr. Latimer, who, unexpectedly to both parties, had heard what passed. Whether Mr. Latimer, however, could not find his servant, or whether he wished for the fresh air, and the cool quiet evening walk, or whatever might be his motive, he surprised Agnes, by joining her outside the door, and accosting her with"Permit me to be your attendant, Miss Agues, instead of my servant." Mr. Latimer smiled and bowed, and leading Agnes away triumphantly, placed her so that young Bridport, who was about to dance with Ada, was her vis-a-vis. Agnes' heart beat, and she looked with an expression of ineffable love on her cousin, resolving, even though he were her partner, to absorb as little of his attention as she could but there was something sad and inexplicable in Ada's eyes. The next moment, a proud and cold expression came over her features. She is offended with me, thought Agnes; I am wounding her by dancing with Mr. Latimer. I am perhaps exciting that most painful of all passions, jealousy! Agnes thought how already she had been the means, all innocently as it was, of wounding her cousin's pride and ambition: the albumlike volume, and the note came to her mind; and then her noble and ingenuous confession; the unveiling of her love and her hopes. How inex-for me!" pressibly dear was Ada to her, as she thought He took her hand, and drew it within his arm rapidly on these things! She saw her beautiful figure in its elegant dress floating along; she took, in passing, the lovely hand, and endeavored by a gentle pressure to convey a feeling of the love and tenderness that was in her heart. But Ada was now laughing gaily with her partner, and looking again the happiest, as well as the loveliest in the "I cannot indeed, Mr. Latimer," said Agnes stopping, "the distance is so short, and I quite prefer going alone; the air is fresh and pleasant after the hot drawing-room, and there is no danger with the air of one who will have his own way; and yet there was a something in his manner, tender at once and deferential, that troubled her. She recalled the conclusion of her former arguments, that he noticed her, and paid attentions to her, because his benevolence made her very deficiences interesting to him; but on this occasion there surely was something more. Ah, poor Agnes, with a sentiment which she would not have dared to confess to herself, she felt her hand within his and resting upon his arm, and then she was walk ing step for step by his side. They walked both slowly and silently. A tumult of strange emotion was in her heart; a short spiritual combat ensued, and she won or seemed to win, a victory over herself. Yes, so she said; but through the sleepless night that followed, she took a strict and close survey of the true connexion which existed relatively between Mr. Latimer, her cousin, and herself; and there was something very much more "My cousin Ada is beautiful!" said she, speak-momentous than this or that dress, or this or that ing in the strength of her self-vanquishment. cally. Very beautiful," said Mr. Latimer emphati casualty, which was the mainspring of Mr. Latimer's behavior. Then, as regarded herself, how different was her feeling now towards him to what She is a noble creature!" returned Agnes. it had been on that first evening of their meeting "I think very few persons do her justice; I ques- when she so unwittingly revealed to him all her tion if you do, for she is not a merely beauti-domestic affections and sorrows! Yes, between ful girl, but she has high and estimable qualities. I think her one of the most interesting characters I know. I cannot see any fault in her, and I am convinced that she must be greatly improved since you left." Agnes longed to tell the confession she | had made, but Ada's strict prohibition forbade it. "I think very highly of her powers," said Mr. Latimer, in a voice which to Agnes seemed cool and measured, "and I know no one more capable of developing herself nobly than Ada. There was a time," continued he, after a pause, "when I tried to use my influence with her; but Ada is one of those who must find the right way herself, and, sooner or later, she will find it, no doubt." "She has found it already," said Agnes, warmly : "she is as noble as she is beautiful. I wish I could make you think as highly of her as I do myself," added she, feeling almost desperate in her cousin's cause. 66 then and now a very different feeling had sprung "We are nearly at the end of our walk," said Mr. Latimer, abruptly, " and I must not forget my sister's commission to me. She came out to bid you good-by, but I promised to do it for her, and to beg you to make one of a pic-nic party to Brad-duty to these was alike—to promote the well-being gate Park-merely her own family, your uncle's, Mr. and Mrs. Sam, and myself, on Tuesday week." ARTIFICIAL QUARTZ.-At the Paris Academy of Sciences 25 August, a communication was received from M. Tibelmen, mining engineer, and joint director of the royal manufactory of Sèvres, announcing that he had succeeded in making an artificial quartz, equal in every respect to the natural crystal. This process is of great simplicity. It consists in the evaporation in damp air of silicic ether. The crystal thus obtained is very hard and transparent, and scratches glass. This discovery will give courage to those chemists who are of opinion that even the diamond may be artificially obtained. and happiness of each but then, would her leaving Lawford do this? She knew not. However, she had a true friend and counsellor in her mother, and to her she determined to write. She had related to her all that had hitherto occurred, and now again she would be faithfully candid, and her mother's advice should be her guide. In the mean time, she resolved that nothing should induce her to neglect the most rigid fulfilment of her duty, nor would she give any ground for reproach. Her place was with her uncle, and him alone. She determined to avoid Mr. Latimer's society and even his sister's, and not to give them any reason to suspect the treacherous inclinations of her own heart. Such were the resolves which, in the stillness of the night, Agnes made: she prayed earnestly for the assistance of Heaven to strengthen her in this and all other trials; and, with a stronger and a more cheerful mind, she arose the next morning. NEW ANTI-FRICTION METALS.-Galignani mentions the discovery of a new mixture of metals, called anti-friction, as a substitute for the use of brass in the various uses to which that metal has been hitherto applied in the manufacture of locomotive and other engines. From the statement of Messrs. Allcard, Buddicombe and Co., who have made the locomotives for the Rouen and Paris and other railroads, it appears that this metal, although very much lower in price than brass, and attended with an economy of 75 per cent. in the use of oil during the working, is of a duration so far beyond that of brass as to be almost incredible. |