hand, and by the very weapon he had carried for his own defence in the perpetration of his villanies. His accomplice, although pursued by Lord Deloraine's friend, succeeded in effecting his escape.
The report of the pistol recalled Rosilia to a painful sense of existence; she attempted to rise, but her strength failing, she could only with sighs and moans pronounce that name so dear to her,—the name of Douglas! for it was his voice she had recognised in its address to Melliphant. In drawing near to lend her his assistance, what was Lord Deloraine's astonishment, dismay, and anguish, in finding in the female he had rescued his beloved Rosilia!
"Powers of mercy|" exclaimed he, "it is Rosilia! it is my Rosilia!"
The strong and secret sympathies that had so long united them, bound and concealed as by a web, seemed at that moment to become completely unravelled. Supporting her in his outstretched arms, one knee bent upon the earth, the heart of Rosilia, so long oppressed, could only reply by tears, flowing so pathetically, and melting Douglas into an excess of tenderness not to be described.
Thrown together by such an unexpected incident, it was not surprising that their feelings, long suppressed, should then at last confide, unite, and blend together into the most perfect concord and association. Unable to sustain herself, still supported in his encircling arms, her beauteous head reclining upon
