Victor, not satisfied with this explanation, desired Boertschy to aid Ogay in supporting Alexis, who was unable to stand alone; and, with a cocked pistol in his hand, proceeded in the direction in which the figure seemed to have appeared. This time, however, he saw nothing, but his ear appeared to detect something like a footstep among the trees. In spite of the materialism of his creed, he was not free from superstition: his heart began to flutter, his knees to tremble; and, wanting the courage to rush forward, he paused to listen. All was still. Not a breath of wind stirred among the leaves. He again advanced the sound of footsteps once more became audible, moving before him in the darkness. He stopped: the noise ceased. "Fool that I am," said he, "it is the echo of my own footsteps!" and, without further investigation, he returned to his companions.

They had proceeded so slowly in their movements that the moon, though not yet visible above the mountains, began to diffuse its light through the atmosphere; but, as they supposed no eye save their own looked upon the scene, this seemed rather advantageous than otherwise, as it enabled them to see what they were doing. Boertschy now stepped into the boat, and Victor and Ogay assisted him and his comrade in placing Alexis on the stern, where he lay as if already lifeless. The boatmen then pushed off, dipping their oars noiselessly and stealthily into the water, as if they feared the sound; while their three accomplices stood on the brink of the lake, anxiously watching the receding boat, which gradually appeared less and less; and at length the eye sought for it in vain upon the wide expanse of water. Yet Victor and his companions continued gazing in the direction where it had disappeared, like a phantom. They spoke not to each other. A secret dread came over their souls. Evil spirits seemed to be about and within them. They shuddered; their

Yet

countenances fell; a flame was kindled in their brain. they still kept their eyes fixed on the same point. At length a black spot became visible on the lake, like a small cloud issuing from its depths. It moved towards them; it increased every moment; it seemed to be a pitchy vapour from hell, bearing along with it the consciousness of murder. The worm that never dieth awoke at its approach. They viewed the boat-its stern was empty-two fiends appeared to be plying the oars. It drew near the shore; and Sourdain, stepping slowly on the beach, demanded in a hollow voice the price of blood.

"Where is he?" asked Victor, wildly.

"At the bottom of the lake, Messieurs," replied Boertschy. "We seized him by the arms and legs, and, as he was too drunk to offer any resistance, we easily plunged him into the water, where he sank like a stone."

"Here!" said Victor, giving them the purse: you will

find the sum agreed on: lead us back to Estavoyer."

Three days after this took place, the body of Alexis, to which the murderers had forgotten to attach any weight, was found floating on the shore, near Chevroux; upon which a young man of Forel came forward, stating that, on the night of the murder, as he was walking with his betrothed bride near the inlet where Annette Vogel was murdered, he saw Sourdain and Boertschy take a man into their boat; that several other persons, unknown to them, remained behind on the shore; that the boatmen rowed out, and soon returned without the man. Hearing nothing of the matter, he had hitherto abstained from coming forward; but his mistress also was now ready to swear to the facts. The boatmen, on being taken into custody, confessed their guilt, and impeached their accomplices; and, the event having taken place in the Canton de Vaud, they were tried

and convicted at Lausanne; where, in 1832, I saw the elder Gavin, then the only survivor, a prisoner in the MAISON DE FORCE.

RESIGNATION.

BY MISS E. L. MONTAGU.

WHY mourns my voice? why give I unto death
The last, lone numbers of my calmed heart,
With grief disquieting the lingering breath
Which may not yet from this fair world depart?
Though the sweet fount for me no more should flow
Though the bright song within me dims and dies;
'Twas but the child of sorrow, and doth go

Into that grave wherein its parent lies.

Oh! 'twas a perilous gift, and born in tears,
And nursed and nurtured by an anguished breast;
And now, amid its brotherhood of fears,

With scarce a sigh I fold it to its rest;

And, all unheedful of the voice of praise,

Welcome a life of immelodious days.