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 the motives of his imprionment, but in vain. He was roued from his reverie, by the unbarring of the dungeon-door it opened, and Hugo entered, armed, and with a drawn word in his hand. He brought with him a pitcher of water and a mall loaf, which he laid down near the door, and intantly departed without uttering a word. Heavily indeed paed the hours of this day: night at lat came, and brought with it the ame horrors as the preceding one. He till thought that he heard at times the deep chilling groan, and the hand endeavouring to remove the fatenings of the door which he had found impaable. He lept; again, the voice called for vengeance; again, the murderer lay lain; again, his Edith appeared on the brink of ruin; and he thought that now, with a frantic voice, he called on him to fave her from detruction.

About noon the next day the doors unbarred, and Hugo entered, armed, and bringing, as before, a loaf and pitcher. “Tell me,” cried Fitzalan, tarting from the ground, “by what authority, and for what purpoe, I am brought here. To what fate am I doomed?”–“To death,” anwered Hugo. “It is decided upon. To-night, when the catle clock trikes twelve, expect your executioners. Recommend yourelf therefore to God, and prepare for your end. I wih,” added he, in a oftened tone, “that I were to have no part in your murder; but if I were to refue, my own life would be the forfeit.” Saying this, he cloed the door, leaving Fitzalan in a tate of mind bordering upon madnes. In exclamations of the mot unbounded rage, in vain attempts to force a paage from his dungeon, and in meditating upon the helples ituation of his wife and infant, hour after hour paed away, till at length the bell announced eleven. Fitzalan now rallying his cattered enes, protrated himelf in upplication to the father of mercy; and implored his protection for his Edwin, for his Edith. “When he pronounced thee dear names, all his reolution vanihed: his dreams recurred to his mind, and he felt an overpowering and ominous fear for their afety. A hollow groan rung