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either his tone or manner, and Lady Anne perceived the alteration.

"Harry! Harry! Dearest! my love!" she murmured, suddenly stretching towards him her hands, and fell into his arms, where she lay for a while motionless.

"Poor creature! How acute her feelings are!" exclaimed the Baronet, calmly. "You should strive to master them, Anne, as I do. I bear you no ill-will; I know you had provocation! How her little heart beats," he continued, musingly. "Why, she has fainted! How very childish of her to yield so!"

It was true; the unhappy lady had fainted, and lay unconsciously in her husband's arms. Her sister, weeping bitterly, rose to remove her; but the Baronet's countenance became suddenly clouded. He allowed us to assist his lady, by removing her bonnet, but continued to grasp her firmly by the wrists, staring into her face with an expression of mingled concern and wonder. His keeper's practised eye evidently saw the storm rising, and came up to him.

"You had better let her ladyship be removed!" he whispered into his ear authoritatively, eyeing him fixedly, at the same time gently disengaging her arms from his grasp.

"Well-be it so; I'm sorry for her; I've a strange recollection of her kindness: and is it come to this, poor Anne!" he exclaimed, tremulously, and walked to the further window, where he stood with his back towards us, evidently weeping. We removed Lady Anne immediately from the room; and it was so long before she recovered, that we doubted whether it would be safe to remove her home that day. 'Well, as far as I am concerned," thought 1, as I bent over her insensible form, "this is the last time I will be a party to the torture inflicted by such a scene as this, though in obedience to your own wishes!" As I was passing from the room in which she lay, I encountered Sir Henry, followed closely by his keeper.

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"Whither now, Sir Henry," I enquired, with a sigh.

"Going to tell the king that I cannot dine with him to-day, as I had promised, for I am quite agitated, though I scarce know why. Who brought Lady Anne to me?" he

whispered. I made him no reply. "I am glad I have met you, however; we'll take a turn in the grounds, for I have something of the highest consequence to tell you." "Really you must excuse me, Sir Henry; I have”

"Are you in earnest, Doctor? Do you know the consequences of refusing to attend to my wishes ?"

I suffered him to place my arm in his, and he led me down the steps into the garden. Round, and round, and round we walked, at a rapid rate, his face turned towards me all the while with an expression of intense anxiety-but not a syllable did he utter. Faster and faster we walked, till our pace became almost a run, and, beginning to feel both fatigued and dizzy, I gently swayed him from the pathway towards the door-steps.

"Poor-poor Anne!" he exclaimed, in a mournful tone, and starting from me abruptly, hurried to a sort of alcove close at hand, and sat down, covering his face with his handkerchief, his elbows resting upon his knees. I watched him for a moment from behind the door, and saw that he was weeping, and that bitterly. Poor Sir Henry! Presently one of his brother captives approached him, running from another part of the grounds, in a merry mood, and slapping him instantly on the back, shouted, "I am the Lord of the Isles!"

"I can't play billiards with your majesty to-day," replied Sir Henry, looking up, his eyes red and swollen with weeping.

"Embrace me, then!" said the lunatic; and they were forthwith locked in one another's arms."You are in tears!" exclaimed the stranger, himself beginning suddenly to cry; but in a moment or two he started off, putting his hand to his mouth, and bellowing, "Yoicks yoicks! Stole away! Stole away!”

The Baronet relapsed into his former mood, and continued in a similar posture for several minutes, when he rose up, wiped away his tears, and commenced walking again round the green, his arms folded on his breast as before, and talking to himself with great vehemence. I could catch only a few words here and

there, as he hurried past me. "It will never be believed!-What could have been my inducement ?-When will it be tried?—I saw all the while through his disguise!-My secretary -if acquitted-released-discovery -ennobled"-were fragments of his incoherencies. Alas! what an object he looked! I could not help thinking of the contrast he now afforded to the animated figure he had presented to the eye of the beholder from the gallery of the House of Commons-the busy eager throngs of the clubs-and as the man of fashion and literature!

"Hei mihi, qualis erat! quantum mutatus ab illo

Hectore, qui redit exuvias indutus Achil

lis,

Vel Danaûm Phrygios jaculatus puppibus ignes!"

On regaining her room, I found Lady Anne had been relieved by a copious flood of tears. She continued weeping hysterically, and uttering wild incoherencies for some time, nor could the entreaties or commiserations of those around her, assuage her grief. When at length her paroxysm had abated, from exhaustion, she expressed a determination not to be removed fromthe house in which her unfortunate husband resided! It was in vain that we represented the peril with which such a resolution was attended, as well to herself as Sir Henry; she was deaf to our solicitations, regardless of our warnings. She requested

Mrs Y to inform her whether their house was fully occupied; and on receiving a hesitating answer in the negative, at once engaged apartments occupying the whole of the left wing of the building, careless, she said, at what expense. The result was, that finding her inflexible on this point, the requisite arrangements were at once entered upon, and that very night she, with her sis ter and maid, slept under the same roof with her unconscious-her afflicted husband. Every measure was taken to secure her from danger, and keep her as much out of Sir Henry's way as possible.

Nearly a month passed away without her having been once in Sir Henry's company, or even seeing him, for more than a moment or two together; and, unlikely as it had seemed,

her health and spirits appeared rather to improve than otherwise. At length, the Baronet, being taken in a happy mood, was informed that she had long been a resident in Somerfield House, at which he expressed no surprise, and consented to her being invited to take tea in his apartment. He was very shy and silent during the interview, and seemed under constraint till his guests had taken leave of him. Gradually, however, he grew reconciled to their visits, which he occasionally returnedalways accompanied by his "secretary"-and took great pleasure in hearing the sisters play on the piano. He composed verses, which they pretended to set to music; he brought them flowers, and received various little presents in return. For hours together he would sit with them reading, and hearing read, novels and newspapers-and, in short, grew in

a

manner humanized again. He treated Lady Anne with great civility, but towards her sister Julia, he behaved as if he were courting her! They soon prevailed upon him to discard the absurd peacock's feather he frequently wore, always on Sundays-accepting, in its stead, a small drooping ostrich feather, which also, in its turn, he was by and by induced to lay aside altogether, as well as to assume more befitting clothing. They could not, however, dislodge from his crazed imagination the idea that he was confined in prison, awaiting his trial for the murder of his wife, and high treason!

How can I do justice to the virtues of his incomparable wife, or sufficiently extol her unwearying, her ennobling self-devotion to the welfare of her afflicted husband! Her only joy was to minister to his comfort, at whatever cost of feeling, or even health, at all hours, in all seasons; to bear with his infinite, incongruous whims, perversities, and provocations; to affect delight when he was delighted; to soothe and comfort him under all his imaginary grievances. Her whole thoughts, when absent from him, were absorbed in devising schemes for his amusement and occupation. She would listen to no entreaties for cessation from her anxious labours; no persuasions, no inducements could withdraw her even for a moment from the dreary scene of her hus

band's humiliation and degradation. Hail, woman, exalted amongst thy sex! Eulogy would but tarnish and obscure the honour that is thy due! All, however, was unavailing; the unhappy sufferer exhibited no symptom of mental convalescence: on the other hand, his delusions became more numerous and obstinate than ever. He seemed to be totally unconscious of Lady Anne's being his wife; he treated her, and spoke of her, as an amiable companion, and even made her his confidant. Amongst other vagaries, he communicated to her a long story about his attachment to a girl he had seen about the premises, and earnestly asked her opinion in what way he could most successfully make her an offer!

He addressed her, one morning, as Queen, receiving her with the most obsequious obeisances. He persisted in this hallucination with singular pertinacity. All poor Lady Anne's little familiarities and endearments were thenceforth at an end; for he seemed so abashed by her presence, that no efforts of condescension sufficed to reassure him, and she was compelled to support

a demeanour consistent with the station which his crazed imagination assigned her. His great delight was to be sent on her royal errands about the house and grounds! He could hardly ever be prevailed upon to sit, at least at ease, in her presence; and was with difficulty induced to eat at the same table. The agony I have seen in her eye on these occasions! Compelled to humour his delusions, she wore splendid dresses and jewels; and dismissed him on every occasion, by coldly extend ing her hand, which he would kiss with an air of reverent loyalty! He believed himself to have been elevated to the rank of a general-officer, and insisted on being provided with a military-band, to play before his windows every evening after dinner. He invited me, one day, in The Queen's name, to dinner in his apartments, some time after this delusion had manifested itself. It was a soft September evening, and the country round about seemed every where bronzed with the touch of autumn. During dinner Sir Henry treated his

lady with all the profound respect and ceremony due to royalty, and I, of course, was obliged to assume a similar deportment, while his lady was compelled to receive with condescending urbanity attentions, every one of which smote her heart as an additional evidence of the inveteracy of her husband's malady. I observed her narrowly. There was no tear in her eye-no flurry of manner-no sighing: bers was the deep silent anguish of a breaking heart!

Shortly after dinner was removed, we drew our chairs-Lady Anne in the centre, seated on a sort of throne, specially provided for her by the Baronet-in a circle round the ample bow-window that overlooked the most sequestered part of the grounds connected with the establishment, as well as a sweep of fine scenery in the distance. In a bower, a little to our right, was placed Sir Henry's band, who were playing very affectingly various pieces of brilliant military music. By my direction, privately given beforehand, they suddenly glided, from a bold march, into a concert on French horns. Oh, how exquisite was that soft melancholy wailing melody! The hour-the deepening gloom of evening-the circumstances the persons-were all in mournful keeping with the music to which we were listening in subdued silence. Lady Anne's tears stole fast down her cheeks, while her eyes were fixed with sad carnestness upon her husband, who sat in a low chair, a little on her left hand, his chin resting on the palm of his hand, gazing with a melancholy air on the darkening scenery without. Occasionally I heard Lady Anne struggling to subdue a sob, but unsuccessfully. Another, and another, and another forced its way—and I trembled lest her excitement should assume a more violent form. I saw her, almost unconsciously, lay her hand upon that of the Baronet, and clasp it with convulsive energy. So she held it for some moments, when the madman slowly turned round, looking her full in the face; his countenance underwent a ghastly change, and fixing on her an eye of demoniac expression, he slowly rose in his seat, seeming, to my disturbed fancy, an evil spirit called up by the

witchery of music, and sprung out of the room. Lady Anne, with a faint groan, fell at full length upon the floor; her sister, shrieking wildly, strove to raise her in vain; I hurried after the madman, but finding his keeper was at his heels, returned. I never can forget that dreadful evening! Sir Henry rushed out of the house, sprung at one bound over a high fence, and sped across a field, amidst the almost impervious gloom of evening, with steps such as those of the monster of Frankenstein. His keeper, with all his efforts, could not gain upon him, and sometimes altogether lost sight of him. He followed him for nearly two miles, and at length found that he was overtaking the fugitive. When he had come up within a yard of him, the madman turned round unexpectedly, struck his pursuer a blow that brought him to the ground, and immediately scrambled up into a great elm-tree that stood near, from amidst whose dark foliage he was presently heard howling in a terrific manner; anon, there was a crashing sound amongst the branches, as of a heavy body falling through them, and Sir Henry lay stunned and bleeding upon the ground. Fortunately the prostrate keeper had called out loudly for assistance as he ran along; and his voice attracted one or two of the men whom I had despatched after him, and between the three, Sir Henry was brought home again, to all appearance dead. An eminent surgeon in the neighbourhood was summoned in to his assistance, for I could not quit the chamber of Lady Anne- she was totally insensible, having fallen into a succession of swoons since the moment of Sir Henry's departure; Lady Julia was in an adjoining room, shrieking in violent hysterics; and, in short, it seemed not impossible that she might lose her reason, and Sir Henry and Lady Anne their lives. 'Tis a small matter to mention at such a crisis as

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this, but I recollect it forcibly arrested my attention at the time: the band of musicians, unaware of the catastrophe that had occurred, according to their orders, continued playing the music that had been attended with such disastrous consequences; and as Lady Anne's bed

chamber happened to be in that part of the building nearest to the spot where the band were stationed, we continued to hear the sad wailing of the bugles and horns without, till it occurred to Mrs Y to send and silence them. This little incidental circumstance the sudden mysterious seizure of Sir Henry-the shrieks of Lady Julia-the swoons of Lady Anne-all combined-completely bewildered me. It seemed to be a dream.

I cannot-I need not-dwell upon the immediate consequences of that sad night. Suffice it to say, Sir Henry was found to have received severe but not fatal injury, which, however, was skilfully and successfully treated; but he lay in a state of comparative stupor for near a week, at which period his mental malady resumed its wildest form, and rendered necessary the severest treatment. As for Lady Anne, her state became eminently alarming; and as soon as some of the more dangerous symptoms had subsided, we determined on removing her, at all hazards, from her present proximity to Sir Henry, to Hall, trusting to the good effects of a total change of scene and of faces. She had not strength enough to oppose our measures, but suffered herself to be conducted from Somerfield without an effort at com. plaint. I trembled to see an occasional vacancy in the expression of her eye; was it impossible that her husband's malady might prove at length contagious? Many weeks passed over her, before Lady Anne exhibited the slightest signs of amendment.

Her shocks had been too numerous and severe-her anxieties and agonies too long continued-to warrant reasonable hopes of her ultimate recovery. At length, however, the lapse of friendly time, potent in assuaging the sorrows of mankind, the incessant and most affectionate attentions of her numerous relatives, were rewarded by seeing an improvement, slight though it was. The presence of her little boy powerfully engaged her attention. She would have him lying beside her on the bed for hours together; she spoke little to him, sleeping or waking; but her eye was ever fixed upon his little features, and when

she was asleep, her fingers would unconsciously wreathe themselves amongst his flaxen curls. About Sir Henry she made little or no enquiry; and when she did, we, of course, put the best face possible upon matters. Her frequent efforts to see and converse with him, had proved wofully and uniformly unsuccessful; and she seemed henceforth to give up the idea of all interference, with despair.

But the original, the direful occasion of all this domestic calamity, must not be overlooked. The contest respecting the title and estates of Sir Henry went on as rapidly as the nature of the case would permit. The new claimant was, as I think I hinted before, a man of low station; he had been, I believe, a sort of slavedriver, or factotum, on a planter's estate in one of the West India is lands and it was whispered that a rich Jew had been persuaded into such confidence in the man's prospects, as to advance him, from time to time, on his personal security, the large supplies necessary to prosecute his claims with effect.

There were very many matters of most essential consequence that no one could throw light upon but the unfortunate Baronet himself; and his solicitor had consequently, in the hope of Sir Henry's recovery, succeeded in interposing innumerable obstacles, with the hope, as well of wearing out his opponents, as affording every chance for the restoration of his client's sanity. It was, I found, generally understood in the family, that the solicitor's expectations of success in the lawsuit were far from sanguine: not that he believed the new claimant to be the bona fide heir to the title, but he was in the hands of those who would ransack the world for evidence-and, when it was wanting, make it. Every imaginable source of delay, howeversalvation to the one party, destruction to the other-was at length closed up; all preliminaries were arranged; the case was completed on both sides, and set down for hearing. Considerable expectation was excited in the public mind; occasional paragraphs hinted the probability of such and such disclosures; and it was even rumoured

that considerable bets were depending upon the issue!

I was in the habit of visiting Sir Henry once or twice a-week. He became again calm as before the occasion of his last dreadful out-break; and his bodily health was complete. New delusions took possession of him. He was at one time composing a history of the whole world; at another, writing a memoir of every member that had ever sat in the House of Commons, together with several other magnificent undertakings. All, however, at length gave way to "The Pedigree, a Tale of Real Life," which consisted of a rambling, exaggerated account of his own lawsuit. It was occasioned by his happening, unfortunately, to cast his eye upon the following little paragraph in his newspaper, which chanced to have been overlooked by the person who was engaged for no than to read over the other purpose paper beforehand, and prevent any such allusions from meeting the eye of the sufferer.

"Sir Henry Harleigh, Bart. This unfortunate gentleman continues still greatly indisposed. We understand that little hope is entertained of his ultimate recovery. The result, therefore, of the approaching trial of 'Doe on the demise of Harleigh v. Higgs' will signify but little to the person principally interested."

From the moment of his reading these lines, he fell into a state of profound melancholy-which was, however, somewhat relieved by the task with which he had occupied himself, of recording his own misfortunes. He had resumed his former dress of green baize, as well as the intolerable peacock's feather. What could have conferred such a permanency upon, or suggested this preposterous penchant, I know not-except the interest he had formerly taken in a corps of riflemen, who were stationed near a house he had occupied in the country. He continued quiet and inoffensive. His keeper's office was little else than a sinecuretill Sir Henry suddenly set him about making two copies of every page he himself composed!

I remember calling upon him one

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