future to reside. Even Warlock (that spell to the proud heart of her
uncle) she ceased to retain. It was offered to the nearest relation of
the family at a sum which he did not hesitate to close with; and by the
common vicissitudes of Fortune, the estate of the ancient Brandons has
now, we perceive by a weekly journal, just passed into the hands of a
wealthy alderman.

It was nearly a year since Brandon's death when a letter bearing a
foreign postmark came to Lucy. From that time her spirits--which before,
though subject to fits of abstraction, had been even and subdued, not
sad--rose into all the cheerfulness and vivacity of her earliest youth.
She busied herself actively in preparations for her departure from this
country; and at length the day was fixed, and the vessel was engaged.
Every day till that one, did Lucy walk to the seaside, and ascending the
highest cliff, spend hours, till the evening closed, in watching, with
seemingly idle gaze, the vessels that interspersed the sea; and with
every day her health seemed to strengthen, and the soft and lucid colour
she had once worn, to rebloom upon her cheek.

Previous to her departure Miss Brandon dismissed her servants, and only
engaged one female, a foreigner, to accompany her. A certain tone of
quiet command, formerly unknown to her, characterized these measures, so
daringly independent for one of her sex and age. The day arrived,--it
was the anniversary of her last interview with Clifford. On entering the
vessel it was observed that she trembled violently, and that her face was
as pale as death. A stranger, who had stood aloof wrapped in his cloak,
darted forward to assist her; that was the last which her discarded and
weeping servants beheld of her from the pier where they stood to gaze.

Nothing more in this country was ever known of the fate of Lucy Brandon;