narrow slits, and which appeared, from its raftered ceiling and unplastered walls, to be of an earlier date than the rest of the castle.

"Where are we now?" said Antonia, appealing to her companions.

"In one of the old watch-towers, which has never been used since the civil wars, but as a lumber room."

"Oh, I delight in such a place," exclaimed Antonia. "Very lately at home at Sleyton Court, I found in searching our lumber room two old and very curious pictures belonging to some worthies of our family, which had been consigned to oblivion, and but for me would probably never again have seen the light."

"But I am afraid," said Sidney, laughing, "you will find no scope here for your researches. Our old housekeeper, I believe, arranges this old watchtower every week of her life, and you perceive it is much too orderly to prove an interesting lumber room."

"Well, that is true," Antonia reluctantly admitted. "But there," pointing to a large chest studded with gilt nails, which stood at the farthest

end of the room,

"there surely is an old trunk

which could, I think, a tale unfold.""

Mr Berenger and his sisters looked at each other, as doubting who should answer. Antonia per

ceived their perplexity, and entreated them not to heed her thoughtless request.

"My dear Miss Lyndsey," they exclaimed, "do not distress yourself, we will readily shew you what the trunk contains, only we must beg you not to mention it before our mother."

"But if Lady Berenger has an objection to the trunk being opened, pray do not open it on my account."

66

"My mother has no objection to the chest being opened, or its contents being seen,” replied Sidney; 'only we had rather it was not mentioned before her, and you will easily understand our motive, when I tell you that it contains the clothes of a cousin of my mother's, who was executed in the year '16, for engaging in that unfortunate affair.” "How dreadful!" exclaimed Antonia. 66 What! the very clothes in which he was beheaded."

"Yes, the very clothes," repeated Sidney, and kneeling down, he unhasped the trunk, which flew

open with a sudden spring, and shewed a quantity of black cloth which was laid in folds on the top.

Antonia would gladly have drawn back, but she was ashamed of doing so, and compelled herself to look on whilst the black cloth was carefully displaced and unrolled, Sidney explaining that it had been used as a covering to the block and scaffold. Large marks of blood were still visible upon it, although they had assumed a brown, or rather purplish hue, and could only be seen when held to the light. In silence they removed each separate part of the dress, Miss Berenger only remarking that the coat was made of very fine Genoese velvet. The fine cambric collar of the shirt had evidently been turned down, "out of the way of the executioner," as Miss Berenger also remarked. It was grazed by the remorseless axe, and was also deeply stained with blood. But what horrified Antonia more than all the rest was a cast of the unhappy sufferer's face, which had been taken in wax immediately after the execution. The livid colour of the wax, and the distortion of the features, which was painfully apparent, rendered it a truly horrible spectacle. Antonia could not have felt

more appalled had she gazed on the actual head. Sidney perceived her horror, and considerately drew her attention from the ghastly model to a small slip of parchment, on which was written the name and character of the unfortunate deceased

"ARCHIBALD MURRAY.

DECOLLATUS 1716-ÆTATIS SUE 23.
Requiescat in pace.

Loyal to his King, and unshaken in his Faith, he fell a willing and devoted sacrifice.

His cause shall be judged, and shall be avenged.
His only sister,

ELEANOR MURRAY,

took the veil, in a convent at Bruges, the day he was executed."

Antonia sighed deeply as she returned the paper to Sidney. Her sympathy was powerfully excited, and she could hardly repress her tears. She pictured to herself the desolate sister, the afflicted family, and the gallant and noble sufferer consigned so early to such a violent and ignominious death.

"Thank Heaven!" she exclaimed, "we do not live in those days."

"Heaven only knows," replied Sidney, in a low though solemn voice, "how soon those days may return."

Antonia heard his words distinctly, but she was too sick at heart to ask an explanation.

"Will you take care that everything is properly replaced?" said Sidney, addressing his sisters. "I will conduct Miss Lyndsey to the drawing-room ; contemplating these relics of a recent past, or the effect of this close atmosphere, has been too much for her."

Antonia soon recovered her composure, though she could not dismiss from her mind the impression she had received, nor could she explain her feelings when she attempted to do so to her aunt, who evidently disliked her dwelling on the subject, and dismissed it by saying lightly—

"You are a little simpleton, my dear, and have been frightened by the name of an execution, and the sight of an old chest, full of musty clothes. Drink this glass of distilled water, and you will be quite well in a few minutes."

Antonia obeyed; but though she could not discuss the subject with her aunt, she could not forget it. Her mind had been too powerfully affected. Many cheerful mornings and pleasant evenings were enjoyed during their visit at Castle