possible to the Hall, which was pervaded with an air of excitement and suspense. He was instantly conducted into Mrs Beauchamp's private room. The good old lady sat in her easychair, her pallid features full of grief, and her grey locks straying in disorder from under the border of her cap. Every limb was in a tremor. On one side of her sat Ellen, in the same agitated condition as her aunt; and, on the other, stood a table with brandy, hartshorn, &c., and an open letter.

"Be seated, Pritchard,” said the old lady faintly. The steward placed his chair beside the table. "Why, what is the matter with you, Pritchard ?" enquired Miss Beauchamp, startled by the agitation and fright manifested in the steward's countenance. He drew his hand across his forehead, and stammered that he was grieved to see them in such trouble, when he was interrupted by Mrs Beauchamp putting the open letter into his hand, and telling him to read it. The steward could scarcely adjust his glasses; for he trembled like an aspen leaf. He read—

"MADAM,-My client, Lady Hester Gripe, having consented to advance a farther sum of £22,000 to Mr Henry Beauchamp, your son, on mortgage of his estates in —shire, I beg to know whether you have any annuity or rent-charge issuing therefrom, and, if so, to what amount. I beg you will consider this enquiry strictly confidential, as between Lady Hester and Mr Beauchamp, or the negotiations will be broken off; for her ladyship's extreme caution has induced me to break through my promise to Mr Beauchamp, of not allowing you, or any one else, to know of the transaction. As, however, Mr Beauchamp said, that, even if you did know, it was not of much consequence, I presume I have not gone very far wrong in yielding to her ladyship's importunities. May I beg the favour of a reply, per return of post ?—I have the honour, &c. &c. &c.

"Furnival's Inn, London."

Before the staggered steward had got through half this letter, he was obliged to lay it down for a moment or two, to recover from his trepidation.

"A FARTHER Sum!" he muttered. He wiped the cold perspi

ration from his forehead, dashed out the tears from his halfblinded eyes, and resumed his perusal of the letter, which shook in his hands. No one spoke a syllable; and, when he had finished reading, he laid down the letter in silence. Mrs Beauchamp sat, leaning back in her chair, with her eyes closed. She murmured something, which the straining ear of the steward could not catch.

"What was my lady saying, miss ?" he enquired. Miss Beauchamp shook her head, without speaking, or removing her handkerchief from her face.

"Well, God's holy will be done!" exclaimed Mrs Beauchamp, feebly tasting a little brandy and water; "but I'm afraid my poor Henry-and all of us-are ruined!"

“God grant not, my lady! Oh, don't—don't say so, my lady!” sobbed the steward, dropping involuntarily upon his knees, and elevating his clasped hands upwards—" "Tis true, my lady,” he continued, "Master Henry-for I can't help calling him sohas been a little wild in London-but all is not yet gone-oh no, my lady, no!"

"You must, of course, have known all along of his doingsyou must, Pritchard!" said Mrs Beauchamp in a low tone.

แ Why, yes, my lady, I have-but I've gone down on my knees every blessed night, and prayed that I might find a way of letting you know".

66

Why could you not have told me ?" enquired Mrs Beauchamp, looking keenly at the steward.

"Because, my lady, I was his steward, and bound to keep his confidence. He would have discharged me the moment I had opened my lips; he told me so often!"

Mrs Beauchamp made no reply. She saw the worthy man's dilemma, and doubted not his integrity, though she had entertained momentarily a suspicion of his guilty acquiescence.

"Have you ever heard, Pritchard, How the money has gone in London ?”

"Never a breath, my lady, that I could rely on."

"What have you heard?-That he frequents gaming-houses?" enquired Mrs Beauchamp, her features whitening as she went on. The steward shook his head. There was another mournful pause.

66

Now, Pritchard," said Mrs Beauchamp, with an effort to muster up all her calmness-" tell me, as in the sight of God, how much money has my son made away with since he left?" The steward paused and hesitated.

"I must not be trifled with, Pritchard," continued Mrs Beauchamp solemnly, and with increasing agitation. The steward seemed calculating a moment.

“Why, my lady, if I must be plain, I'm afraid that twenty thousand pounds would not cover".

"TWENTY THOUSAND POUNDS!" screamed Miss Beauchamp, springing out of her chair wildly; but her attention was, in an instant, absorbed by her aunt, who, on hearing the sum named by the steward, after moving her lips for a moment or two, as if she were trying to speak, suddenly fell back in her seat, and swooned.

To describe the scenes of consternation and despair which ensued, would be impossible. Mrs Beauchamp's feelings were several times urging her on the very borders of madness; and Miss Beauchamp looked the image of speechless, breathless horror. At length, however, Mrs Beauchamp succeeded in overcoming her feelings for she was a woman of unusual strength of mind—and instantly addressed herself to meet the naked horrors of the case, and see if it were possible to discover or apply a remedy. After a day's anxious thought, and the show of a consultation with her distracted niece, she decided on the line of operation she intended to pursue.

worse.

To return, however, to her son. Things went on, as might be supposed from the situation in which we left him, worse and Poor Beauchamp's life might justly be said to be a perpetual frenzy-passed in alternate paroxysms of remorse, despair, rage, fear, and all the other baleful passions that can tear and distract the human soul. He had become stupefied; and could not fully comprehend the enormous ruin which he had precipitated upon himself-crushing at once "mind, body, and estate." His motions seemed actuated by a species of diabolical influence. He saw the nest of hornets which he had lit upon, yet would not forsake the spot! Alas! Beauchamp was not the first who has felt the fatal fascination of play, the utter obliviousness of

consequences which it induces! The demons who fluttered about him, no longer thought of masking themselves, but stood boldly in all their naked hideousness before him. For weeks together, he had one continual run of bad luck; yet still he lived and gambled on, from week to week, from day to day, from hour to hour, in the delusive hope of recovering himself. His heart was paralyzed-its feelings all smothered beneath the perpetual pressure of a gamester's anxieties. It is not, therefore, difficult for the reader to conceive the ease with which he dismissed the less and less frequently intruding images—the pale reproachful faces of his mother and cousin!

Sir Edward Streighton, the most consummate tactician, sure, that ever breathed, had won thousands from Beauchamp, without affording him a tangible opportunity of breaking with him. On the contrary, the more Beauchamp became involved-the deeper he sank into the whirlpool of destruction-the closer he clung to Sir Edward; as if clinging to the devil in hell, would save one from its fires! The wily baronet had contrived to make himself, in a manner, indispensable to Beauchamp. It was Sir Edward who taught him the quickest way of turning lands into cash-Sir Edward, who familiarized him with the correctest principles of betting and handling the dice-Sir Edward, who put him in the way of evading and defying his minor creditors -Sir Edward, who feasted and fêted him out of his bitter ennui and thoughts of -shire-Sir Edward, who lent him hundreds at a moment's warning, and gave him the longest credit!

Is it really conceivable that Beauchamp could not see through he plausible scoundrel? enquires, perhaps, a reader. No, he did not, till the plot began to develope itself in the latter acts of the tragedy! And even when he did he still went on-and on-and on-trusting that, in time, he should outwit the subtle devil. Though he was a little shocked at finding himself so easily capable of such a thing, he resolved at last, in the forlorn hope of retrieving his circumstances, to meet fraud with fraud. A delusion not uncommon among the desperate victims of gambling, is the notion that they have suddenly hit on some trick by which they must infallibly win. This is the ignis fatnus which often lights them to the fatal verge. Such a crotchet had

latterly been flitting through the fancy of Beauchamp; and one night—or rather morning—after revolving the scheme over and over again in his racked brain, he started out of bed, struck a light, seized a pack of cards, and, shivering with cold—for it was winter-sat calculating and manoeuvring with them till he had satisfied himself of the accuracy of his plan; when he threw them down, blew out his candle, and leaped into bed again in a fit of guilty ecstasy. The more he turned the project in his mind, the more and more feasible did it appear. He resolved to intrust no one breathing with his secret. Confident of success, and that, with but little effort, he had it in his power to break the bank, whenever, and as often as he pleased, he determined to put his plan into execution in a day or two, on a large scale; stake every penny he could possibly scrape together, and win triumphantly. He instantly set about procuring the requisite funds. His attorney-a gambler himself, whom he had latterly picked up, at the instance of Hillier, as a monstrously convenient fellow "-soon contrived to cash his I.O.U.'s to the amount of £5000, on discovering that he had still available property in shire, which he learned at a confidential interview with the solicitor in Furnival's Inn, who was negotiating the loan of £22,000 from Lady Gripe.* He returned to make the hazardous experiment on the evening of the day on which he received the £5000 from his attorney. On the morning of that day, he was, farther, to hear from his steward in the country respecting the mortgage of his last and best property.

66

That was a memorable-a terrible day to Beauchamp. It began with doubt-suspense-disappointment; for after awaiting the call of the postman, shaking with agitation, he caught a glimpse of his red jacket passing by his door-on the other side of the street. Almost frantic, he threw up the window, and called out to him-but the man had "none to-day." Beauchamp threw himself on his sofa, in agony unutterable. It was the

It is my intention, on a future occasion, to publish some account of the extraordinary means by which this old woman amassed a splendid fortune. She was an inveterate swindler at cards; and so successful that, from her gains at ordinary play, she drew a capital with which she traded in the manner mentioned above.