sadly own I have played the truant in a thorny path. Ay, love! it may be too hard a task to forgive your Bertrand, but you will not say you alone have been unhappy."

Bertrand's father was dead. Three of his sisters, however, were still living at Thoulouse, who shared with Christine her delight at his return. The father of Christine alone refused to see him, so deeply did he resent the wrong done his daughter. His former friends gathered round him; and, though he did not repulse their advances, there was often a strange reserve in his manner, as if they were imperfectly remembered, or that he scarcely wished to renew their acquaintance. Christine would sometimes gently chide him for this; but he soothed her by declaring he was desirous of no other company than hers and Henriette's, and that he wished for no companions that might estrange him from his home.

Three years thus glided on, and Christine, faithful to her word, never once clouded their serenity by the slightest unkind allusion to the past. Yet, and she knew not why, there was a something that prevented her from feeling as she once did towards Bertrand. In vain she struggled with this repugnance; in vain she condemned it; in vain she reasoned with herself, and strove to command back the unbounded love and devotion of the first years of their marriage. She was conscious they had abated; but it was her consolation to know, (as she believed she did,) that Bertrand was not conscious of it.

One day, when he was out, her father came. It was the first time he had crossed the threshold of her door since his return. She welcomed him joyfully, though, from his manner, she saw his visit was for no pleasing object. But what was her consternation, her horror, when she learned wherefore he had come? when she learned it was to wither her incredulous mind with this frightful annunciation-that Bertrand was an impostor, and not her husband!.

At first, she would fain have treated it as a bitter jest; but, alas ! she had hideous forebodings of a fatal truth that lurked behind. There had been moments since the return of Bertrand, when strangely horrible misgivings had possessed her own soul; misgivings which she dared not, for her life, heed, the after-thoughts were so terrible. She sought refuge rather in the belief that she herself was altered; or that seven years of wandering and severe trials had wrought inexplicable changes in her husband; or that so long an interval had obliterated in both, feelings, affections, and habits which could not now be revived. In short, what could she not believe sooner than the monstrous fable of her father?

The old man, however, was clear and positive in his statement, much as it grieved him to afflict his child. He had his evidence, too, which, at the earnest entreaty, nay, the almost frantic command of Christine, he produced. This was the Sieur d'Anglade, a man who had known Bertrand in Spain, when he was serving there with the French army, and where he went by his proper name, that of Arnaud du Tilh. The Sieur d'Anglade was well acquainted also with the father of Arnaud du Tilh, and his whole family, who lived at Caen, in Normandy. This, if true, was the circumstance that most staggered the miserable Christine; for till it was mentioned, she hoped it might turn out, though Bertrand had never told her so, that he had assumed

the name of Arnaud du Tilh during his absence, the better to prevent all discovery of himself.

It was proposed by M. Boissard, and assented to by Christine, that the Sieur d'Anglade should remain till Bertrand returned, and they would then be able to judge, from their meeting, of the truth of his

statement.

"Not at all, Madame," said the Sieur d'Anglade. "Arnaud du Tilh is master of himself, and has studied too well the part he has to play. I have been in Thoulouse above a month; I have met du Tilh several times in the streets; I have spoken to him; but his dissimulation was admirable. Were he indeed Bertrand de Rols, he could not have received my salutations with a more perfect absence of all recognition. He is an excellent actor, Madame !"

While they were discoursing, Bertrand entered. He evinced some surprise at seeing Christine's father; none at the presence of the Sieur d'Anglade. The latter advanced towards him, his hand extended, which he took with the unembarrassed air of a person who is receiving a stranger under his own roof.

66

Well met, Arnaud du Tilh!" exclaimed the Sieur d'Anglade.

"I give you welcome, Sir," replied Bertrand calmly, "but there is some mistake. I do not know your name-it is evident you do not know mine."

"And yet we knew each other well at Barcelona: and long before that, I was an intimate friend of your family at Caen, where I have spent many a pleasant hour with your father, Urban du Tilh.”

Bertrand smiled as he turned towards his wife, and said, "Chris

tine, you knew my father here in Thoulouse."

"You are an impostor!" exclaimed M. de Boissard, "and

answer for this before the Criminal Judge."

you shall

"I know, Sir," rejoined Bertrand, "you have never pardoned my long desertion of your daughter; but let not your wrath dishonour itself by making injustice the instrument of its satisfaction."

"Look at me!" said the Sieur d'Anglade sternly.

"I do," replied Bertrand, fixing his eyes upon him with a calm expression of countenance.

"Can you do so," continued the Sieur d'Anglade, "and persist that you do not know me?"

“As truly, and therefore as fearlessly," replied Bertrand, "as I would say no to the man who accused me of parricide."

"Were you at Barcelona during the autumn and winter of 1654, now five years since?"

"I was not," answered Bertrand firmly; and as he spoke, his eyes met those of Christine. "He is wrong, love," he continued; "I read your thoughts. I have told you I served at Barcelona, but it was in the summer of 1652."

"Were you not born at Caen, in Normandy? and is not your father's name Urban du Tilh?" demanded the Sieur d'Anglade.

"I was born in this city of Thoulouse, and my father's name was Auguste de Rols," answered Bertrand : I am known here of my friends, and here my three sisters still live, who welcomed, with tears of joy, the brother they had sorrowed for as lost. My wife too-" "Bertrand!" exclaimed Christine wildly, "heed well what you Aug.-VOL. XXXII. NO. CXXVIII.

L

say! Before this hour,-I cannot tell wherefore,-I have been tor mented with dark suspicions. They came unbidden-I dashed them from me I loathed myself for them, because they branded me with innocent guilt! But now, Bertrand-now, it seems as if a thick veil were dropping off, and before my uncovered sight there stood a dismal yawning gulf. Oh God! grant this may prove delirious phantasy, and not the other!"

"Sir!" said Bertrand, in an agitated voice, and turning round to the Sieur d'Anglade, "a choleric man, with half this provocation, would strike you dead upon the spot! By what right come you here to disturb my quiet home with the sick dreams of your bewildered mind? I have borne to be catechised by you, as I would have borne to be asked of any crime of which I knew myself guiltless; but since my answers satisfy you not, since you have succeeded in poisoning the mind of that gentle creature, and since this honourable person, her father, has been cajoled by you so far as to talk largely of my answering for myself before the Criminal Judge, it is time I should meet you with another spirit.-Begone!"

The Sieur d'Anglade, not a jot daunted by this indignant reprimand, prepared to depart with M. Boissard, when Christine, rising from the seat where she had been leaning on the bosom of Henriette, in a state of indescribable distress, addressed Bertrand :—

I go with my father!" said she; "and with me, my daughter. Bertrand there is a mystery I cannot fathom-and beneath its baleful influence the current of every affection of my heart seems to turn from you. God forgive me, if what I do is wrong! And if thou art wronged, may he so order it that it shall appear manifest to my eyes, vouchsafing also that with my knowledge of the truth may come again those feelings which now are chilled into fears that drive me almost mad!"

She buried her face in the grey hairs of her father, as he bent over her, and pressed her to his bosom.

"This does, indeed, amaze me," exclaimed Bertrand; "but," added he, sarcastically, as he glanced at M. Boissard, “I begin to understand matters. A sentence of the Criminal Court, if bold-faced fraud should prosper, would be a quick conveyance of the estate at Artigues. I shall baffle you, however, by the aid of Heaven and a righteous cause."

"It concerns not me, Arnaud du Tilh," said the Sieur d'Anglade, offering his arm to Henriette, who was in tears; "neither have I sought this; but wherein I can be useful to my good friend M. Boissard, and to his abused daughter, therein will I, according to my power."

They then left the house, and Bertrand remained in it alone, for the servant refused to stay.

The rumour of this discovery spread in a few hours through the whole city of Thoulouse; and it no sooner became rife, than many who knew Bertrand, and had never doubted his identity, began to grow suddenly dubious, remembering sundry remarkable circumstances which they now said had excited their suspicions from the first; though, as it was no business of theirs, they held their tongues. Others wondered how Christine could have been deceived; while

some made merry with the tale, concluding that Bertrand must have bewitched her with love-charms, or else, that she cunningly practised a seeming imposition on herself, to solace her widowhood, fearing to marry again till she were assured of her husband's death.

The next day, Bertrand was apprehended upon a warrant of the Criminal Court, and carried to prison. The ground of his arrest was a Bill of Complaint preferred before the Criminal Judge, by M. Boissard in his daughter's name, setting forth that he had " falsely, rashly, and traitorously imposed upon Christine de Rols in assuming the name, and passing himself upon her, as Bertrand de Rols;" and praying, in conclusion, that " he might be condemned to make satisfaction to the King for the breach of his laws, to demand pardon of God, the King, and Christine, with his head bare, his feet naked, and in his shirt, with a lighted torch in his hand; and that he should be further adjudged to pay the said Christine de Rols two thousand livres for the injuries he had done her."

To the astonishment of all parties, Bertrand, in his Answer to this "Bill of Complaint," made no confession of the offences alleged against him, but boldly asserted he was the person he had represented himself to be. He declared the whole affair was a wicked conspiracy contrived by the father of Christine, with the aid of the Sieur d'Anglade, for the purpose of obtaining speedier possession of certain property which would fall to him at his (Bertrand's) death, and that they had prevailed upon his wife, Christine de Rols, who was a person of weak understanding, to join with them. He entered into an account of the reasons which had induced him to leave his home; set forth the various adventures he had gone through; stated how, at the end of seven years, he was seized with an ardent desire to return to his wife and child, and doing so, with what joy he had been received by Christine and his relations, notwithstanding the alterations which time, great fatigue, and the cutting off his hair, had caused. At the close he prayed that "his wife might be confronted with him, because he could not possibly believe she would persist in denying the truth; that his calumniators, according to the laws of equity, might be condemned to suffer the punishments they called for upon him; that Christine should be taken out of the hands of his enemies, and be restrained from dissipating his effects; and finally, that he should be declared innocent of all the crimes laid to his charge."

The Criminal Judge cited Bertrand to appear before him, and subjected him to a rigorous private examination. He questioned him as to various matters which had happened in Thoulouse, when he must have been a boy; the place of his birth, his father, mother, sisters, and other relations; his marriage with Christine; the persons who were present; their different dresses, the name of the priest who performed the ceremony, &c. To all these interrogatories Bertrand answered clearly and distinctly; and, as if not satisfied to have done thus much, he voluntarily spoke of his daughter Henriette, of the day she was born, of his own departure, of the persons he met on the road, of the towns he passed through on his way to Spain, and of numerous persons whom he knew in that country.

The next step was to obtain from Christine, her father, and others

whom Bertrand had named, their answers to the same points. There was, substantially, a perfect correspondence between them; the discrepancies being of so insignificant a character that they could not be said to invalidate the truth of what Bertrand had asserted.

Thirteen witnesses were next examined, who declared upon oath, that the accused was Bertrand de Rols; that they had known him from his infancy, and that they were well acquainted with his person, manners, and tone of voice. On the other hand, an equal, if not greater number, declared he was not Bertrand de Rols; while the Sieur d'Anglade positively swore his name was Arnaud du Tilh, that he was born at Caen in Normandy, and that his family still resided there. A third class of witnesses were ready to swear, that if he were not Bertrand de Rols, there was such a wonderful resemblance between him and the true Bertrand, that it would be impossible to say which was which, were they standing side by side; thus seeming to confirm an observation of Lope de Vega, that Nature, sometimes weary of designing new faces, copies, now and then, with admirable exactness, from those she has already produced.

The last attempt to solve this curious mystery, after the Court had occupied several weeks with receiving evidence and hearing eloquent and ingenious counsel on both sides, was an order by the Criminal Judge to have two reports laid before him; the one, as to the resemblance or non-resemblance of Henriette to the accused; the other as to her likeness, or otherwise, to the sisters of Bertrand de Rols. These reports were accordingly made, and by the first, it appeared that Henriette did not resemble the accused at all; by the second, that she was very like her father's sisters.

At length the Court named a day for pronouncing its sentence. It was in the following words :

"That Arnaud du Tilh is guilty, and convicted of being an impostor; for which crime he is condemned to lose his head; and further, that his body be afterwards divided into four quarters."

Every one cried out upon this sentence-every one asked, "What grounds has the judge for pronouncing it,-unless, indeed, he has had the benefit of some divine inspiration to reveal the truth in a matter beset with doubts to all except himself?”

Bertrand complained vehemently of its injustice; and, without loss of time, appealed from the Criminal Court to the Parliament of Thoulouse. This extraordinary cause having now excited intense interest, the appeal and the probable judgment of the Parliament were the only subjects talked of throughout the city.

That august assembly, as soon as the necessary documents were properly before them, determined to make their inquisition not only with all due solemnity, but in a manner which should present the case in a new form, and with the best chances for unravelling its mystery.

In the first place, they ordered Christine, her father, and the Sieur d'Anglade to be confronted with the accused in open court; but singly, one after the other. In these confrontations, Bertrand maintained the same unperturbed countenance, the same air of confidence, and answered every question with the same calm promptitude that he had evinced throughout his former examinations. But M. de Boissard, and especially the timid, shrinking Christine, whether from