THREE HOURS ON THE DIAL OF A RHAPSODIST.

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Reflected there shines a fair and graceful image, but not his own,with something of a mocking smile upon the erewhile gentlelip. Yes ! it is another’s form — it is Jocelyn! as he stands thatvery moment by the portrait of Iva, his hand upon his side, hishead slightly depressed!

He dashed the crystal to the ground—it broke into athousand pieces; then, covering his face with his hands, heseemed to fall helpless upon the seat by his side.

Several minutes elapsed before he spoke.

“ So you would have deceived me, even you! ” he murmured.“Oh ! Truth, where art thou ?” And his voice rose to a cry ofagony. “ It is well! Life has no more bitterness : my eyesare no longer veiled, they can look upon no further pain.”

“What is it?” inquired Iva, shuddering at the changedface before her.

“What?” he repeated, rising and seizing her furiously bythe wrist. “ Traitress ! you love me not! Oh, falsehood !sweet, beguiling treachery! another’s image and not mine isstamped upon thy heart! ’Tis Jocelyn Waldegrave you adore!”

The tell-tale blood rushed for a moment to her cheek, thenleft it pale as marble. “ What mean you?” she exclaimed.“Jocelyn Waldegrave has never breathed a syllable of love tome!”

“ Go to ! You are his destined wife ! False ! false ! I see itall now—the last hope is shattered; all is lost, and I am calm !Oh ! wretched privilege of grief to paralyse with its own pain,and to steep the overwrung heart in the very stupor of its sad-ness ! Yet one thing I will know; you would have married me,while you yet loved another. Say! why was this? Nay, youshall tell me, frankly: why was this deception practised uponme?—for gratitude, forsooth, too ! Oh ! amazing perfidy!”

She was too terrified to weigh her words. “ Did you notsave my father ? He could not otherwise accept your aid; my