ng that the cause he had
espoused was hopeless, and that matters were at the last extremity in
his own fate, and that of his unhappy country,--fearful, too, of drawing
the innocent Constance and her father into the deep vortex of his own
ruin,--made all haste to the capital, where, through the powerful
interest excited in his behalf, aided by his well-known valour and the
influence he was known to possess amongst his countrymen, he received a
free pardon from the Queen.

Yet his thoughts lingered on the remembrance of her to whose heroic and
confiding spirit he owed his safety. Never had his proud bosom been so
enthralled. Though nurtured in camps, amid the din of arms, and the
shout of the battle, yet his knowledge of the female heart was almost
intuitive. He had loved more than once, but in every case the attachment
ended unhappily, terminating either by the death of the object or by
some calamity his own evil fate had unavoidably brought upon its victim.
Though fearful the same operation of his destiny would ensue, and that
misery and misfortune would still follow the current of his affections,
yet he resolved to behold once more the maiden he loved with an ardour
almost surpassing his own belief.

One cold dull morning, towards the wane of the year, when the heavy
drops lay long on the rank herbage; no sunbeam yet loitering through the
damp chill atmosphere, but the sky one wide and unvarying expanse--a sea
of cloud--here and there a black scud passing over, like a dim bark
sweeping across the bosom of that "waveless deep," a stranger stood by a
low wicket near the mansion of Grislehurst. He looked wistfully at the
gloomy windows, unlighted by a single reflection from without, like the
rayless night of his own soul:--they were mostly closed. A mysterious
and unusual stillness prevailed. The brown leaves fluttered about,
unswept from the dreary avenues. Decayed branches obstructed the paths;
and every object wore a look of wretchedness and dilapidation. The only
sign of occupancy and life was one grey wreath of smoke, curling heavily
from its vent, as if oppressed with the gloom by which it was
surrounded. The melancholy note of the redbreast was the only living
sound, as the bird came hopping towards him with its usual air of
familiarity and respect. Enveloped in a military cloak, and in his cap a
dark feather drooping gently over his proud features, the stranger
slowly approached the house: a side-door stood partl