, when he was apprised by the clerks of the pre-engagement. I should mention that this attorney with his partners formed an influential firm, having a superior business, and being "good" and constant clients of Mr.while the solicitor on the other side was nearer the reverse in all respects. Blaming the clerk for not writing to them in the first instance, (though there was no general retainer,) to learn in what cases they required his master, the attorney immediately had an interview with the latter, in which he urged the necessity of abandoning the first, and undertaking the second case. There is no doubt his arguments were convincing, for at a late hour of the evening the plaintiff's attorney was informed that, by the neglect of the clerk, a prior retainer (which had no existence) by the defendant, had been overlooked, and consequently that Mr. P. - could not be his counsel. His brief and fees were therefore returned; another counsel was engaged within a few hours of the trial; and the ill-used plaintiff lost that verdict of which he felt himself secure, probably more by the knowledge which his adversary's advocate had obtained of both sides of the question than the merits of the case; while the clerk was obliged to endure all the obloquy. His master, however, avoided offending a "good" client, who might otherwise have been "good" no longer, and this object being attained, it mattered not who suffered. I must add, by the by, that none but a senior could have achieved this exploit without serious consequences. (To be continued.) THE THREE LETTERS. LETTER II. (Continued from Vol. IV. p. 549.) "ARE there any letters for me, Wilson?" demanded Harcourt, pacing the room impatiently. "Yes, Sir, there is one;" and the man handed it him. Katherine's well-known writing; and his heart beat violently as he broke the seal : "My dear Grahame, "I feel truly thankful that you have allowed my uncle to explain your feelings towards me, and I hasten to assure you I release you fully from your engagement. You are free, Grahame: and again I thank you for your sincerity. We were so young when it was formed -perhaps partly deceived by our childish intimacy. "But I see clearly now, that it would never add to the happiness of either; and once more, you are free free as before your last visit here. Let not a doubt regarding me cloud your present prospects. Most fully and heartily do I agree in thinking it is far, far best as it is. "God bless you always, my dear Grahame, prays "KATHERINE." "Edith, my own one, what ails Cecil to-day?" "I know not, Grahame," she answered, though a tell-tale blush mounted to her cheek. "He goes to Oulton to-morrow for a week." "He was such a happy, light-hearted creature," said her companion. "He is like you, Edith, very like you really too beautiful for a boy." Cecil Derwent had heard that morning of his cousin's engagement to Grahame Harcourt in a few hours he was on his way to Oulton Manor. "Cecil, my dear Cecil, how ill you look!" exclaimed Katherine, as her young cousin entered her sitting room. "Oh no, Katherine, you fancy so; I am very well," he said, faintly. "You may wish to deny it, Cecil, but you cannot deceive me; you are suffering” "Katherine,” replied the boy, hurriedly; "I will tell you all; but for Heaven's sake breathe not a word of it, I entreat you. I have told no one; but you suspect, and I must speak or my heart will break. You have never seen her?" "Who?" said Katherine, in a low voice. 66 "No, Edith," he replied. "Katherine, she is lovely quite. I have loved her from a child. Oh, she must have known it. She must have felt I loved her. She must have known I lived only for her. How little is a woman's heart to be relied on!" he said bitterly. no, Katherine, you are no judge," he continued, interrupting her kind soft words of consolation. "You are coldness itself. Had you remained true to Harcourt, I should not now have been so miserable. Yet no, Katherine, I did not mean to be unkind - forgive me," he said, as her dark eyes filled with tears, "forgive me, dear Katherine, you know I am very fond of you, and would not pain you for the world." Oh, no, dear Cecil, I know you would not; I do not mind your hasty words," said Katherine, calmly, and she stood motionlessher whole heart crushed within her reproached for coldness - for want of truth! -- It is said in the coldest regions there is warmth beneath the snow. Katherine was cold as marble; but a warmer, truer heart never beat in woman's breast. Had she given way in the least, her feelings must have overpowered her, and no one knew, or had an idea, of the agony the forsaken girl had endured in writing her few calm lines to her lover. She was acting for his happiness, and that idea supported her. Grahame wished the link that bound them broken, and she would not compel him to keep it whole. But when the last link was broken, and broken by her own hand, her courage had nearly failed — then again she saw the misery she should cause him, and the strength of her affection enabled her to conquer her own feelings, and herself to sanction his marriage with another. None knew her secret. General Grey was, of course, asked to the wedding, and Katherine received a kind invitation. Her uncle, perfectly deceived, accepted it for her. Her mother, not aware of her sufferings, did not interpose; and Katherine, not daring to refuse, accompanied her uncle to Aston Hall. 66 "None shall know," she thought, as she prepared for dinner that day, none shall know how wretched I am ;" and as she exerted herself in conversation, and commanded her attention to what was going on around her, her cheek flushed, and her dark eyes were brilliant all were surprised-and even Grahame thought he had never seen her look so well. In the stillness of her chamber Katherine sat. The excitement was over, and a flood of tears relieved her aching heart. How beautiful the fair young bride was! perfectly beautiful-and a feeling of envy crossed her. Repelling it instantly, she knelt and prayed earnestly for their happiness, for strength and support under her bitter trial. Day dawned before she retired to rest, and, perfectly exhausted, she at length fell asleep. It was late when she awoke, and the rain was pouring against her window. Their wedding day, and such a gloomy one! Then came the friends and relations of the bride, and the carriages rolled off one by one towards the church; and Katherine found herself among those assembled in it; and then appeared the young girlish bride, with the long white veil half concealing her features and Grahame-she looked up once at him, for one last look before he was indeed another's; and, though she felt almost fainting, yet no one noticed her, and she remained cold as a statue. The ceremony commenced. The deep full tones of his voice as he gave the responses, and the whispered words of Edith,-words that for ever separated him from her,-fell on her ear with painful acuteness; and when they were indeed all said, and they really were "joined together," Katherine endeavoured to breathe a prayer for them; and General Grey, looking fondly on his adopted son, who stood there proud and smiling, Edith's arm within his own, raised the long veil and kissed the beautiful face of the young bride. "Bless you, Grahame! bless you both!" he said, as he wrung his hand; and Katherine returned to the house-and the breakfast was served - and all sat down happy and gay- and then Grahame led his young wife to the carriage, and bore her away from the home of her childhood. Some weeks ere that day the young sailor had again left his native land, and Katherine mourned over his departure, for she felt that though Cecil knew it not, yet his heart sympathised at her's. She knew too well what he felt; and it was almost a comfort to hear him give vent to feelings to which she did not dare give utterance. Three years elapsed before she again saw Harcourt. They went abroad after their marriage, and though Grahame often wrote that he longed to be in England again, and at the dear old manor, yet his young wife, amused by the novelty of the scene, insisted, month after month, on their prolonged stay; and he, at first fascinated by her beauty, yielding to her entreaties, month after month delayed their return. Katherine perceived that her uncle, though he said little, was deeply disappointed at every alteration in their plans. She exerted herself to amuse and distract him, and he became daily more and more fond of her. Her endeavours to interest him in different pursuits were rewarded by the pleasure she soon really felt in them herself; and Mrs. Grey having followed her husband to the grave about a year after Harcourt's marriage, poor Katherine's time was now entirely devoted to her Uncle. At last Grahame arrived; but his wife did not accompany him; he could not persuade her, he said, to leave Brighton during the gayest season, and he came only for a hurried visit. Both General Grey and Katherine felt his mind was not at rest; still he evaded all inquiry, pleading recent illness as the cause of his evident depression. "Katherine, my child," said General Grey, after Harcourt's departure, "come here, I must speak of business to you. I would fain you should understand exactly how matters stood with me when I invited your poor mother and yourself here, that when I am gone you should never think I had acted unjustly towards you." "Oh, my dear uncle," replied Katherine, as she seated herself beside him, and raised her reproachful eyes. "You see, my dear Katherine," said the General, "I have left you only a small sum in my will, and even that I do not consider myself entitled to give you altogether. In case of Grahame's surviving you, it must return to him. I have told you this, that you JANUARY, 1846. NO. I. VOL. V. D should not feel disappointed when you hear it; for I would not that an unkind thought of your old uncle should ever rise: indeed, I am almost inclined to give you some account of my early life, that you may understand my reasons for what you may otherwise think strange conduct." "Oh!" exclaimed Katherine, and she placed herself on a low stool at his feet, "oh, if you would, my dear uncle, there is nothing I should like so much, that is, if it would not pain you," she added gently, as she saw a shade pass over his brow. "Painful it is, my child; few were the happy days of my life, for all was dark and clouded before I was eight and twenty, and though since that day I have been calmer, and, I hope, more resigned to the will of heaven, yet gloomy and repining thoughts will sometimes rise, in spite of myself. Still, I will tell you, for I feel as if it would be a relief that some one should know and feel what I have suffered, and you will then more readily excuse the many times I have been harsh towards you, my dear Kate. "My dear uncle, I can't bear you to speak in that way," replied Katherine, and the tears started to her eyes. "Well, well, it is true, but let it pass for the present. Perhaps you know, Katherine, from a child I longed to be a soldier, and being pretty much my own master, I entered the army very young. Oh, the transport with which I saw myself gazetted to the regiment of dragoons, then in the Peninsula! I joined them, and the excitement was life to me; my regiment was a noble one, and I trust I did not disgrace it. Grey, you will get your troop, if any of us live through this night,' said my colonel, in one desperate struggle with a force four times as numerous as our own. I was left for dead on the field for some hours. But my friend Vernon (poor fellow, long since dead and gone!), remembering the spot where he had seen me last, found me, and I was carried to the hospital. I rallied. I did receive my troop, and, having been too severely wounded to be immediately able for active service, I was sent home with despatches; and a proud man I felt, as I again trod English ground. I went home, and everywhere I was received with open arms; for a soldier then fighting his country's battles, was not what a soldier is now. One of our nearest neighbours was Lady Villiers. I remembered very little of her, for she had not lived at the abbey much during Sir Thomas's lifetime. Since his death she had resided there altogether, and I was a frequent visitor. Katherine, Alice Villiers was the most lovely being then that could be imagined. Grahame resembles her, but she was beautiful,—and I loved her with my whole heart, never have I cared for any other. One day I was going towards the abbey, when I heard the sound of a horse coming at full speed towards me. Something made me pause, and I stood behind a large old tree, for the path was narrow, and there was thick wood at either side. It came on. Alice was upon it, and I saw her vainly endeavouring to stop the creature; her slight hand had no power over him, and on he galloped towards me. I waited till he was close to the tree, and then I seized the rein; throwing one arm round her, I extricated her from the saddle in a moment, and she stood safe |