agitation of his mind was almost beyond endurance. Surely no suffering can equal that of witnessing the imminent peril of a beloved object, and feeling our impotency to assist them! Still Teresa's horse gallopped on-on. At length he made another sharp turn, and Sedley saw his precious love thrown with force to the ground; -he scarcely breathed as he approached the spot where she lay motionless. The thought of what might be, completely unmanned him, and a cold dew stood on his forehead. -- Teresa lay perfectly still, and her face was towards the ground. He advanced close up to the spot, and slowly fastened his horse to a tree, as though to gain time to nerve his heart against what might be in store for it. He then raised her gently in his arms, and looked tremblingly on her face ;--it was as pale as death, and there was blood upon her forehead. Sedley hung over her insensible form in agonised anxiety. He dared not again glance at that bleeding wound, though he bound his handker chief over it. As he took off her hat, her long, dark tresses fell in rich profusion round her figure, adding to the ghastliness of her appearance. Sedley remembered his pleasing dreams of the morning;—were they doomed to be fallacious? And on the very threshold of happiness, was it to be torn from him? Would those sweet lips never open to bless him by an assurance of reciprocal affection? Would those shrouded eyes never beam on him with the fond affection he coveted? As these thoughts passed through his mind, a species of despair seized on him-he felt that he could not endure her loss, and he strained her tightly to his breast, as though he had power to wrest her from fate. As her head lay on his shoulder, he fancied that he felt a slight breath upon his cheek; instantly he replaced her in her former position, and gazed breathlessly on her face. By degrees the faint colour re-visited her lips, and the bosom heaved, and, finally, the sweet eyes opened languidly and looked vacantly around. Sedley agitation of his mind was almost beyond endurance. Surely no suffering can equal that of witnessing the imminent peril of a beloved object, and feeling our impotency to assist them! Still Teresa's horse gallopped on-on. At length he made another sharp turn, and Sedley saw his precious love thrown with force to the ground; -he scarcely breathed as he approached the spot where she lay motionless. The thought of what might be, completely unmanned him, and a cold dew stood on his forehead. Teresa lay perfectly still, and her face was towards the ground. He advanced close up to the spot, and slowly fastened his horse to a tree, as though to gain time to nerve his heart against what might be in store for it. He then raised her gently in his arms, and looked tremblingly on her face ;- it was as pale as death, and there was blood upon her forehead. Sedley hung over her insensible form in agonised anxiety. He dared not again glance at that bleeding wound, though he bound his handker chief over it. As he took off her hat, her long, dark tresses fell in rich profusion round her figure, adding to the ghastliness of her appearance. Sedley remembered his pleasing dreams of the morning;—were they doomed to be fallacious? And on the very threshold of happiness, was it to be torn from him? Would those sweet lips never open to bless him by an assurance of reciprocal affection? Would those shrouded eyes never beam on him with the fond affection he coveted? As these thoughts passed through his mind, a species of despair seized on him-he felt that he could not endure her loss, and he strained her tightly to his breast, as though he had power to wrest her from fate. As her head lay on his shoulder, he fancied that he felt a slight breath upon his cheek; instantly he replaced her in her former position, and gazed breathlessly on her face. By degrees the faint colour re-visited her lips, and the bosom heaved, and, finally, the sweet eyes opened languidly and looked vacantly around. Sedley dared not speak for fear of terrifying her, and in intense anxiety he watched her returning consciousness. At length she raised herself partly, and, leaning on her elbow, looked up in Sedley's face, but without recognising him, and said, in a low, sweet voice, "Where am I-and where is Sedley? We have both been very ill, have we not?-but is he also recovered, for without him life would be tiresome and weary." Suddenly her recollection returned, and when she saw Sedley hanging over her fondly, her weak spirits gave way, and covering her face with her hands, she sobbed hysterically from joyful agitation. Seeing the weak state of her nerves, Sedley raised her gently, and, supporting her feeble frame, led her to a neighbouring cottage, and knocked at the door for admittance. The door was speedily opened, displaying a scene within which an artist might have loved to transfer to his canvass. The small room was filled with country people, in their holiday garb. Every one looked |