and heir to the late marquis of Beaudesert. "Hopeless of obtaining his uncle's approbation of his precipitate marriage with a portionless foreigner, he did not attempt it, but conveyed Sophia to a retreat so retired, that the most watchful suspicion could not have discovered her, and forbade all intercourse by letter with her former friends. She inhabited a cottage amidst the romantic mountains of Mourne; and there Ferdinand Montfort passed the first seven years of his existence. His father had calculated that the death of the marquis of Beaudesert, who appeared in a declining state of health, would have soon put an end to the necessity of concealment; but the event disappointed his expectations.

"Wearied with the solicitations of lord Beaudesert, on whom he entirely depended, and who, believing him free, was perpetually urging him to marry, Montfort resolved to go abroad again, taking with him Ferdinand and Sophia. At Brus

sels Sophia met her mother, now a widow, and in very indifferent circumstances. So deeply did my poor friend reproach herself for her former breach of duty, that she besought her husband to let her accompany madame Walstein, who was returning to Hanover, and to let her spend that time with her mother which Montfort meant to dedicate to visiting Italy. To this he consented; and from that moment, Sophia's life, till it closed, was one tissue of misfortunes.

"After having remained some time with madame Walstein in Hanover, Sophia received a strange, incomprehensible letter from her husband, containing the bitterest accusations of ill-conduct, and ending with a peremptory mandate to send his son to him, as she was unworthy of being entrusted with his future guardianship. This Sophia, in an evil moment, refused, but, in her answer, requested only to be allowed a hearing. She expressed her readiness to set out to meet

1

him at any place he should appoint, and her certainty, once in his presence, of being able completely to justify herself from her unknown accusers. Mr. Montfort's reply was couched in these terms-' Spare yourself the trouble. Henceforth we have nothing in common. I shall never return to Ireland, and you will vainly endeavour to discover my future place of residence.' This answer was the death-warrant of Sophia.”

Lady Louisa paused, apparently much affected.

Geraldine almost reproached herself for having urged this painful explanation.

Lady Louisa resumed-"Yes, she fell a victim to a single error. Oh, Geraldine! how much is that woman to be pitied, who has neither strength of mind to resist the suit of a lover, of whom her parents disapprove, nor spirit to support the retribution of his undeserved unkindness!"

Ever making a return upon herself, lady Louisa seemed to have forgotten she had B 4

any thing more to tell, when Geraldine recalled it to her memory, by asking what became of Ferdinand.

“He remained with his grandmother, madame Walstein, now sunk into a state of imbecility from increasing infirmities, which prevented her from attending to his interests, or seeking to obtain justice for him. It appeared as if his father had totally abandoned him, and, whatever faults malice might have imputed to his mother, they afforded not excuse sufficient for this mysterious alienation.

"On entering his fifteenth year, a sudden and brilliant change of fortune awaited him. Madame Walstein died; and a paternal uncle of his mother, a nobleman high in the Austrian service, having lost an only son in a duel, for the first time deigned to notice the destitute youth. He inquired of Ferdinand if he was inclined to the military life, offering, in that case, to obtain for him the situation of page in the emperor's household, and afterwards to

get

get him a commission in the Austrian service.

"Ferdinand immediately repaired to Vienna. Divided between the duties of a court and a military life, Montfort had little leisure, during the period that succeeded, to revert to the past, and that little his haughty spirit disdained to give. A new and flattering prospect presented itself. His great-uncle, count Ferdinand of Hertzberg, talked of making him his heir; and, gratified with the promise of rank, riches, and independence in his adopted country, Montfort drove wholly from his memory the parent whose cruelty had, unheard, condemned his mother, and forsaken her offspring; one of whose present rank he was ignorant, whose abode was unknown to him, and even his language partly forgotten.

"The war broke out; Montfort distinguished himself, but, on his return, found his golden dream dissipated by the marriage of count Hertzberg, now in his dotage,

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