"Angelo mio!" exclaimed Barletti,
running to support her with tender sympathy,
why didst thou venture here? Thou art
too feeble, my dearest!"

"Leave me alone, Cesare. I can stand
and walk by myself. Look at this, Mr.
Frost!" she added in English, holding out
a letter to him as she spoke.

"You speak—you are English?"
murmured Mr. Frost, more and more bewildered,
but taking the letter and opening it.

His eyes had not mastered two lines of its
contents, before he gave a violent start, and
the letter fluttered from his hand on the
table whilst he gazed searchingly at
Veronica with all his keen wits about him.

"That killed him," said Veronica, bitterly.
"He had thought to betray and to trap me.
And the rage of disappointment was more
than he could bear."

"But," said Mr. Frost, all his professional
interest aroused in the case, " we must be
careful to assure ourselves that he did not
succeed in betraying and trapping you!"

She was about to interrupt him
impetuously, when he held up a warning finger
to check her.

"Stay a moment! This bears date— aye,
the same day. Tuesday last, was it not?
Then this much I see plainly—it will all
depend upon the hour. And now tell me
your whole story. Have no more reserves
than if I were your father confessor. The
only chance I have of helping you is to know
the whole truth"

"Go away, Cesare," said Veronica, after
a pause. " I would rather speak to Mr. Frost
alone. I will send for you by-and-bye."

"Do not let her tire herself, poverina,"
said Barletti, moving reluctantly away. He
turned when he had reached the door, and,
coming back, took her hand and kissed it
with a touching, humble tenderness. Then
he was gone.

The letter which Veronica had handed
to Mr. Frost, ran thus:

London, March 5th, 186—.

SIR JOHN,—It is my painful duty to
inform you of the decease of your respected
wife, Lady Tallis Gale, who expired, at her
apartments Gower-street, yesterday morning.
Her ladyship's niece, Miss Desmond,
was with her to the last. Awaiting any
instructions with which you may be pleased
to honour me, and with my respectful condolence
on the sad event,

I remain, Sir John,

Your very humble servant,

ADAM LANE.

To Sir John Tallis Gale, Bart.

P.S. Her ladyship's disorder was
consumption of the lungs. The arrangements
for the funeral have been made in your
absence, by Miss Desmond's directions.
Her ladyship's relative Sir Thomas Delaney
of Delaney has been invited to attend.

A. L.

A HINDU LEGEND.

ABOUT a century before our Christian
era, there lived in India—precise locality a
little hazy to us western barbarians— a
certain king and demigod, called Gandharba-
Sena. Now Gandharba-Sena was the son
of Indra, the great God of the Firmament;
and according to Captain Burton (whose
delightful book* we are going to lay under
contribution for an article) he was the
original of that famous Golden Ass, whose
metamorphosis and vicissitudes are told
by Apuleius. For, having offended
Father Indra by an indiscreet tenderness for a
certain nymph, he was doomed to wander
over the earth under the form of a
donkey, by day; though, by the interposition
of the gods he was allowed to become
a man by night. While still for half his
time a donkey, Gandharba-Sena persuaded
the King of Dhara to give him his
daughter in marriage; but it unfortunately
happened that at the wedding hour the
bridegroom could not show himself otherwise
than as an ass; in which, perhaps,
he was not singular, taking the
circumstances into consideration. Hearing music
and singing within, he resolved to give
them a specimen of his powers of melody
too: so he lifted up his voice, and brayed:
to the consternation and contemptuous
amusement of the company. The guests
began forthwith to remonstrate with the
king.

"O king," said one, " is this the son of
Indra? You have found a fine bride-
groom; you are, indeed, happy; don't
delay the marriage; delay is improper in
doing good; we never saw so glorious a
wedding! It is true that we once heard
of a camel being married to a jenny-ass;
when the ass, looking up to the camel, said,
' Bless me, what a bridegroom!' and the
camel, hearing the voice of the ass,
exclaimed, ' Bless me, what a musical voice!'
In that wedding, however, the bride and
bridegroom were equal; but in this

* Vikram and the Vampire; or Tales of Hindu
Devilry. Adapted by Richard F. Burton, F.R.G.S., &.
London: Longmans and Co.