sions, and before she turned her mind upon the more serious thoughts and duties of the evening, Matilda endeavoured to compose herself by a pleasing remembrance of many past scenes, which, till now, she had frequently endeavoured to forget.

THE silver crescent of a cloudless moon shone in solemn brightness over the distant hills, and lighted up the gaunt, bare skeletons of many ancient trees, throwing their shadows upon the grass beneath, while the deep blue sky was studded with countless stars, which were reflected in the dark gloomy bosom of the silent waters, when Matilda looked abroad to admire the mysterious tranquillity of nature, before she prepared for consigning herself to repose. What Christian can gaze long or often on the majestic grandeur of the starry heavens, and not be lost in contemplation of its more than earthly glory, while the heart soars above those abject cares and personal feelings which belong to a present life and is filled with the prospect of an eternal destiny? Matilda's mind expanded in the thoughts of futurity, and she anticipated that time when the remembrance of every worldly emotion would seem, in her own estimation, like the momentary ripple occasioned by a summer breeze on the fathomless ocean. A pleasing calm diffused itself over her meditations, and she was about to leave the window, and begin preparing to retire for the night, when she became suddenly startled to observe the dim shadow of a human figure, pacing rapidly up and down near the margin of the river, with vehement gesticulations, and almost maniacal energy of manner. Oc

casionally the person, who seemed to be a female, disappeared for some moments beneath the dark shadows of the forest, but again she emerged, and at length stooping down, where a large bundle was laid on the grass, she untied it, and drew out a quantity of shawls and ribbons which she proceeded to hang in fantastic draperies on herself. After arranging and altering their positions in every capricious form, she heaped them all on with frantic haste, and began gazing at a reflection of her own figure in the moonlit surface of the river, as it swept rapidly past beneath the window. Matilda stood transfixed to the spot, and a thrill of apprehension ran through her frame, for it suddenly flashed upon her mind that this could be no other than Nanny, whose eccentric gestures and strange appearance caused so much terror and surprise. Still she wished to doubt, and knew not what to think or do. No one in the house could possibly be called, and Matilda remembered, not without fear, that a door which communicated with the terrace, led by a back-staircase to the large lumber-room opposite her own, and that in all probability, the poor girl had gone out in that way, by which she might at any time return. While these alarming thoughts darted into her mind, a voice suddenly rose on the midnight air, in tones of wild and high excitement. Matilda listened in breathless agitation, for she traced the broken snatches of hymns and tunes which had once been familiar companions of her own childhood; a moment afterwards, however, they died away in low and melancholy cadences, till the voice became utterly inaudible. Touched by remembering former times, and deeply affected by the discovery of Nanny's situation, Matilda banished at once every personal feeling, and nerving

her resolution to the utmost, she instantly threw up a window, and called aloud to the poor girl, who stood immediately beneath the castle wall. A faint echo alone replied; and though she waved her handkerchief, and tried by every device to attract attention, it was all in vain; Nanny stood motionless, and apparently unconscious, till suddenly she raised a wild hysterical shriek, and Matilda heard for the first time that fearful laugh of insanity which none who have once known it, can ever afterwards forget. Her courage now appeared entirely to have failed, she leaned against the window for support, and it seemed as if her heart had ceased to beat. The first suggestion of fear was to make fast her own door; but even terror could not make Matilda entirely selfish, and knowing that it would be vain to ring her bell, she anxiously thought how assistance could be most immediately obtained for securing the poor girl's safety. She looked again, and saw Nanny wildly stretch her arms towards the river, and rush down to its very margin. There she threw off her bonnet, and fell on her knees, while her long dark hair floated on her shoulders, and she clasped her hands above her head with a look of mortal agony, and of desperate resolution. Matilda snatched up her candle and instantly flew down stairs. Contrary to her usual timidity of disposition, she formed an immediate resolution, not by the loss of one single moment to spare her own feelings in a case like the present, where life or death seemed at hazard, and without an instant's pause, she rapidly glided into the drawingroom, where Sir Richard and the other gentlemen were on the point of dispersing. Matilda's steps faltered, and her colour rose when she saw their evident astonishment at her unexpected presence; but personal consi

derations at such a time are nothing to a generous mind, and advancing straight to her uncle, she grasped his arm, and related what had occurred in a few words.

Mr Grant comprehended the whole at once, and rushed out, followed by Sir Alfred and the other gentlemen, while Matilda remained behind, knowing that her presence could now be of no use; but she told Sir Richard that, if Nanny were brought to the housekeeper's room, every thing should be prepared for her there. She then aroused Mrs Gordon and several of the maids from their slumbers, and caused a fire to be rekindled in the grate; but when all was ready, and nothing more could be done, Matilda became alarmed at hearing no tidings from the gentlemen, and her heart sunk with apprehension. Every breath of wind seemed like the sound of their footsteps, and every moment that passed served to increase her fears. At length, more than half-an-hour had elapsed, when the door flew open, and Mr Grant entered, bearing in his arms the apparently lifeless form of Nanny, which he hastily placed on a sofa near the fire. Matilda felt that her hair and her clothes were streaming with wet, and it became evident that she had been rescued from a watery grave, but scarcely one word of explanation was given relating to the circumstances. Mr Grant, indeed, began a hasty narrative, apparently descriptive of great danger and exertion, which were not his own; but Sir Alfred, who stood near, gave him a look commanding silence, and, with a shrug and a grimace of humorous submission, he obeyed.

With silent heartfelt thankfulness for the safety of every one, and a tear of pity for the unfortunate Nanny, Matilda proceeded to use every means to promote recovery; and having at last succeeded in restoring ap