as thine, never would bring sorrow to the breast of a vir tuous wife!"

These were her ladyship's thoughts, though she did not give them utterance. Thaddeus rose from his seat.

"Farewell, Lady Tinemouth," said he, taking his hat, may heaven bless you, and pardon your husband!"

Then, grasping her hand with what he intended should be a pressure of friendship, but which his internal tortures rendered almost intolerable, he hastened down stairs, opened the outward door, and got into the street.

Unknowing and heedless whither he went, with the steps of a man driven by the faries, he 'traversed first one street and then another. As he went along, in vain the watchmen reminded him by their cries, that it was past three o'clock; he still wandered on forgetting that it was night, that he had any home, any destination.

His father was discovered! That father, who notwithstanding his guilt, he had entertained a latent hope, should they ever meet, might produce some excuse, for having been betrayed into an act disgraceful to a man of honor. But when all these filial dreams were blasted by the conviction, that he owed his being to the husband of lady Tinemouth; that his mother was the victim of a profligate; that he had sprung from a man who was not merely a villain, but the most wanton, the most dispicable of villains; he saw himself bereft of hope, and overwhelmed with shame and horror.

Full of reflections, which none other than a son in such circumstances can conceive, he was lost amidst the obscure alleys of Totenham-court-road, when loud and frequent cries recalled his attention. A quantity of smoke, with flashes of light, led him to suppose that they were occasioned by a fire; and, a few steps farther, the tremendous spectacle burst upon his sight.

It was a house, from the windows of which the flames were breaking out with the most alarming rapidity, whilst the people about, were either standing in stupified astonishment, or uselessly shouting for engines and assistance.

At the moment the count arrived, two or three naked wretches, just escaped from their beds were flying from side to side, making the air echo with their shrieks.

"Will nobody save my children !" cried one of them, approaching Thaddeus, and wringing her hands in agony will nobody take them from the fire ?"

"Where shall I seek them?" replied he.

"Oh! in that room, exclaimed she, pointing, "the flames are already there! they will be burnt! they will be burnt !"

The poor woman was hurrying frantic ly forward, when the count stopped her, and giving her in charge to a bystander, "take care of this woman," cried he, "I will save her children if possible." Darting through the open door, in defiance of the smoke and danger, he made his way to the children's room, where almost suffocated by the sulphurous cloud that surrounded him, he at last found the bed, but it only contained one of the children. This he instantly caught up in his arms and was hastening down stairs, when the cries of the other from a distant part of the building, made him hesitate; but thinking it better to secure one than hazard both by lingering, he got into the street, just as a post-chaise had stopped to inquire the particulars of the accident. The carriage door being open, and Thaddeus seeing people in it, without saying a word, threw the sleeping infant into their laps, and hastened back into the house, where he hoped to rescue the other, before the fire could increase.

The flames had now made a dreadful progress, and scorched his face, hands, and clothes, as he flew from room to room, following the shrieks of the child, who seemed to change its situation with every exertion that he made to reach it. At length, when every moment he expected the house would sink under his feet, he directed his steps, as a last attempt, along a passage which he had not before observed, and to his great joy beheld the object of his search, flying down a back stair-case. The boy immediately sprung into his arms and Thaddeus turning round leaped from one landing place to another, till he found himself in the street, and surrounded by a concourse of people.

He saw the poor mother clasp the rescued child to her breast, and whilst the spectators were loading her with congratulations, he left the crowd; and proceeded home

wards, with a warmth at his heart, which made him forget in the joy of a benevolent action, that petrifying shock, occasioned by the vices of one, who was too nearly allied o his being, to be hated without horror.

THE END OF VOL. I.

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