themselves, and seeming to pay no further attention to what was going on, Geoffrey profited by the opportunity to unburthen his conscience of the load of guilt which weighed it down, which, having gone through with great compunction, he sank back upon his pillow, his uplifted eyes and clasped hands marking the intensity of his feelings, whilst an expression of happy gratitude stole over his pallid countenance, and betrayed, without further doubt, that peace had at length found a resting place within. For several moments he remained motionless, as if his spirit had already fled to another world; but it was not so; his energies alone were too much worn out to give expression by words to what he felt. He remained absorbed

in mental prayer and resignation to the will of his Maker.

The Rev. Father continued to kneel by him, and would have wished to have remained with him to the last, for he could distinctly perceive that life was fast ebbing away, had not a summons from the gaoler ordered it otherwise.

Knowing that there was no chance of again meeting in this world, the good Father, who had been moved more than once to tears during the affecting interview, embraced his dying nephew, and gave him his blessing, to which Geoffrey could only respond by a pressure of the hand. They parted to meet no more. Geoffrey yielded up his penitent spirit into the hands of its Creator on the afternoon of that same day.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE PRISON LODGING-HOUSE.

CONTIGUOUS to the gaol was a small tenement belonging to one of the superannuated officials of the prison, an old man, whose family having dropped off one after the other, left him in possession of more space than his necessities required; he had consequently adopted the plan of dedicating to his pecuniary advantage the spare rooms he had on hand, and letting them out to the friends of those confined in the gaol, who not unfrequently desired to be within reach, should permission be granted for seeing their unhappy relatives.

With this object in view, the sister and daughter of Sir Algernon Trevillers took possession of these dismal chambers. Their own term of imprisonment had concluded, but they felt that nothing could tear them away from the spot where all they loved was immured, the hope that permission would be given them to bid a last farewell being the only ray of comfort left in their state of utter desolation.

One of the small windows of their daily apartment commanded a distant view, between chimneys and roofs of the prison yard, where those confined for minor offences were allowed to take the air. Here, at this miserable lattice, did Urcella plant herself hour after hour, and day after day, in the vain hope of catching a momentary glimpse of the well-known outlines of her dear kinsmen. But she was disappointed. They were not

to be seen there. No; their extent of liberty was restricted to the straitened enclosure of the condemned cell, whose damp stone flooring and level surface seemed to mark the distracted tread of many a miserable inmate before themselves.

Domiciled in the gloomy prison-lodging, the health of Mistress Anne Trevillers was fast giving way under the pressure of her afflictions, notwithstanding the unremitting care of the old faithful Mrs. Trenchard, who never left her disconsolate mistress night or day, and the tender solicitude of her beloved Urcella, who, broken-hearted herself, made the most strenuous exertions to support the partner of her distress. As each succeeding day approached the fatal one that was to deprive them of all they loved best, their despondency increased in proportion. In fine, the victims of so much misery would soon have succumbed altogether, had not a circumstance as extraordinary as it was unexpected, acted like the wand of a magician, and converted in a moment misery into joy!

It was within three days of that fixed for the execution, that Urcella, bending over her aunt, and endeavouring to soothe her sorrowing heart with the help of prayer, was interrupted by the entrance of their aged host, who, making some apology for his sudden intrusion, presented a small basket of fruit, which, he said, had been left by a "passer by" for their acceptance.

Mistress Trevillers raised her head from the pillow on which she was reclining, but, becoming acquainted with the purport of the old man's entry, silently resumed her recumbent position, her mind was too oppressed to appreciate, or even scarcely to notice this well-intentioned gift. It accordingly remained untouched on a small table near the door, where it would have continued to lie neglected, had not Mrs. Trenchard, ever watchful for some object, however trivial, to distract her mistress's attention from the one-absorbing subject, insisted upon her partaking of its refreshing contents; she accordingly cut the tie that bound together its leafy covering, and was in the act of removing some figs, which seemed to compose the contents of the basket, when a slip of paper, pressed between the fruit, caught her eye. She drew it forth, and, holding it up, expressed her astonishment at finding it there. Urcella darted forward, and, seizing the slip, conveyed it to Mistress Trevillers. "Examine it quickly," exclaimed her aunt, trembling with excitement, "the writing may be that of your father-some kind word-some last wish on his part." Urcella tore it open; the writing was not that of her father-it was not that of any one she knew; her eyes, however, glanced at the contents, and in a moment their purport became revealed to her; and such was the agitation they occasioned, that she was unable to read aloud what she saw before her; indeed, some seconds elapsed before her tongue could give utterance to the thrilling disclosures that so affected her; at length, to the amazement of Mistress Trevillers, she fell on her knees, and, in an ecstasy of wild delight, exclaimed that an attempt was to be made on the next night but one, to effect the escape of their condemned relatives. "Oh! joyful intelligence!" continued she, may God in his mercy grant such happy news be true!

66

What good angel has done this? Let every blessing of Heaven and earth be showered upon him!" and, covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears-tears of overwhelming joy! As for Mistress Trevillers, the blissful announcement had almost affected her sensitive nerves, as much as one of an opposite tendency might have done; so sudden a transition from utter desolation to a bright hope of returning happiness, was almost too much for her to bear; pale and colourless, she was completely stunned, and it was a considerable time before she could sufficiently recover her selfpossession to join with Urcella in expressions of gratitude to that Eternal Being who had permitted this ray of comfort to beam upon them. The faithful old Trenchard, whose years of sorrow, and years of happiness, had ever been interwoven with those that chequered the life of her beloved master, was not less grateful for the unlooked for revelation.

It was not till some little time had elapsed, that considerations of a less sanguine nature began to steal, little by little, upon their elated imaginations. What if it were no more than a cruel deception played upon them? or, even if true, might not the intention have proceeded from the benevolent feelings of some philanthropist, who had not calculated upon the insurmountable difficulties that encompassed such a desperate attempt, and who, by failure, might find himself on the same scaffold as those he would have saved?

"And who," said Urcella, "would run such fearful risks to benefit our poor kinsmen? None! ah! none in this country!" The old host was sent for, and interrogated respecting the person from whom he had received the basket of fruit, but he threw no further light on the subject than to say, that the basket was placed in his hands by a person totally unknown to him, though, had it been otherwise, the dimness of the evening would have prevented him recognising the giver. He simply added that he seemed unwilling to leave till he had seen him mount the stairs; "however," continued he, "this is not the first time that I have been made the bearer of such tokens; there are many kind-hearted people hereabouts, who not unfrequently compassionate the friends of the prisoners with such like gifts."

Not wishing to throw any suspicion on the transaction, the old man was dismissed, leaving them as much at a loss as before he entered, to unravel the mystery, or divine who it could possibly be that was giving such proofs of noble devotion in their favour. The little billet was read a second time, and a couple of lines, which had escaped the agitated gaze of Urcella, now caught her eye. They requested that Mistress Trevillers and her niece should return to the Priory immediately, and there remain till summoned elsewhere at a moment's notice. This they determined to do, and were on the point of sending again for their landlord, in order to pay for the accommodation he had afforded them, when they suddenly recollected that they were without the means of so doing. What little these unhappy ladies had with them when seized and carried off to gaol had been expended, and nothing left to satisfy the just claims of their exacting host. What was to be done in this emergency? The old man might attempt to

detain them for the debt, and thus prevent them from following out the injunctions given. They were pondering on this fresh difficulty when Mrs. Trenchard, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, came forward and produced the identical and still undiminished purse which had been given her by Mr. Marsdale, when declined by the invalid for whom it was intended. She had never displayed this rich treasure to any one; she had kept it privately, under a sort of presentiment that it might one day prove useful in favour of some dear member of her master's family. She would not then mention from whom she had received it, only that it was no unfriendly hand who had placed it in hers, and could he see the way in which she was thus anxious to dispose of it, she had reason to feel sure he would sanction such disposal with no slight approbation.

Mistress Trevillers, touched by the generous kindness of the good domestic, and knowing that the offer was made in the sincerity of her heart, willingly availed herself of it, by taking a small portion in the shape of a loan. Having now remunerated their old host, they began making preparations for an early departure on the morrow.

It was not till after much consideration that Mistress Trevillers came to the painful resolution of parting with the good Mrs. Trenchard; this was a necessity which grieved her exceedingly, as the length of years they had known each other, and the many proofs she had given of her faithful attachment, had long endeared her to her. At the same time, she feared that her advanced age and infirmities might disable her from following, should any precipitate retreat be necessary; whilst the becoming acquainted with the facts appertaining to the same, might bring her again into trouble.

Under these impressions, Mistress Trevillers thought it better that she should remain in ignorance of their further movements, when they should have once left the prison-lodging. She knew she had a comfortable home to retire to, and an affectionate grandchild to whom she was much attached to welcome her arrival, so that it would not be sending her adrift, but to a peaceful dwelling, where, in joy and in sorrow, she had already passed so many years of her long life. To the good woman herself it was a matter of much distress, for this faithful dependant would have followed Sir Algernon Trevillers, or any member of his family, to the farthest ends of the earth. She had enjoyed the confidence and esteem of three generations. Her childhood, womanhood, and old age, had been dedicated, as far as the circumstances of the times would allow, to the services of this same family; and now the only happiness left which she could hope to enjoy, was to hear of her dear master's safety, and that of his brother, and then descend in peace to the grave. With these feelings she submitted, though with sorrow, to the arrangements made for her, being convinced they were dictated by motives of the purest kindness for herself and her future welfare.

Urcella, who had never ventured to utter the distasteful name of Marsdale since their misfortunes had reached their crisis, now took the good woman aside, and whispered in her ear the promises that her dear Alice had made to take care of her; "and also," said Urcella, "when next

you see her, fail not to mention me in the most affectionate terms; tell her again and again, that whatever my destiny, or wherever it may please Providence to place me, I shall ever think of her exertions in our favour, with a heart overflowing with gratitude." Mrs. Trenchard had no difficulty in complying with a request which she knew would give her pleasure to perform. She had seen a good deal of Mr. Marsdale's daughter, and was fully aware of the secret attachment that had so long existed between her and Mistress Urcella, and rejoiced to be the means of cementing still tighter these two young hearts, bound in eternal friendship to each other. The night had now began to advance, and it was thought advisable to retire and endeavour to partake of that rest to which they had been complete strangers for nearly three weeks.

THE SCIENCE OF LANGUAGE.

PROFESSOR Max Müller, a German saran, possessing very considerable erudition and research, has claimed for the study of language the rank of a science. The same desire of connecting their favourite studies with something so respectable is apparent also in the works of other writers. The logicians, from their Coryphæus, Whately, to Sir William Hamilton and his able editors, have equally claimed for their subject scientific rank and rigour-the rank and rigour of science, as opposed to the laxities and licences of art. No real adept ever desired, or even doubted, the scientific elements of both logic and philosophy. They are simply branches, and very important branches of psychology, which, if left in the hands of the more advanced thinkers on the matter, is getting scientific enough (in the ordinary sense of the term) to satisfy any one. It is a branch of physiology, itself a branch of biology, a great ordinal name for a group of inquiries which begin with botany and end in what is sometimes loosely called metaphysics. Not that the advertisement of the claims of language, even if reiterated, is useless. Ordinary grammars are purely artificial. They tell you simply how to learn a language; they are, in fact, receipts. For ordinary philology (so much of it is mere guess work), the rule that the judgment rather than the imagination is to be satisfied, is doubly needful. For all this it should not be laid down without either preliminaries or qualifications. Things are scientific according as they are treated; and they are artistic by the same rule. In short, it is impossible to exclude art from science, or science from art. Science, in its strictest form, implies forces, causes, laws, generalization, calculations, and predictions. All these occur, in a near approach to purity and simplicity, in physics, mechanics, and chemistry-the typical sciences. In biology, forms come in, and in logic and philology, where causes merge into conditions, we get little beyond them.