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The girls say
he might be assured she was the character de little torment, hey! Come, she 's off to mope scribed by Augustus.
with the old man and let us be off to flirt “I have never known the time that reading with the young ladies. Laura has inquired was irksome to me,” she replied. “But I have for you several times. We have only a weektaken more pleasure in it since my intercourse more to rusticate, and then back to dusty with a very dear friend with whom I corre streets and heated theatres. spond.”
that the Ex-President is coming here to-morHoward longed to be satisfied about this row, and they are all wild with delight. Jule " dear friend;" but fearing to give offense, he has the room strewed with silks, and Maria merely observed,
Lindsay with artificial flowers. Mother has “How I should like to know this valued cor- smashed her new gauze turban, and is fretting respondent of yours, Miss Inez. She must be for a new one. Cornelia intends dashing down very estimable."
on horseback to meet him-conscious that she “She is, indeed, Mr. Howard;" and Inez looks well in the character of Di Vernon. All went on to eulogize this absent friend with the turkeys and chickens are quacking in the such warmth, that Howard told her he was yard, conscious of their approaching doom. in love with the very description. That little The whole Hotel is turned out of the window, word “she," too, caused him to speak more
and I out of my room. Can't even smoke a freely about the image brought forward for his cigar in peace; disposed to cry out every minapproval and admiration.
ute, Down with the President-taxation-naIs there not in our minds often a presenti- tional banks—annexation—nullification and ment that certain persons-perhaps individu- veto-fication-I go for plenty of money, and als whom we have never seen-are in some
an occasional jollification.-Fred, what on way to influence our future destiny? Who earth are you always thinking, of now-ahas not been struck with certain countenances, which have flashed upon them for a moment like sunbeams, and the remembrance of
CHAPTER III. which always produces pleasurable feelings?
A TALE OF THE SOUL'S PASSION. And, again, are there not many faces which strike us disagreeably the first moment we
Letter from Clara in New York, to Inez at Saratoga. look at them, and the impression never wears You say, my dear Inez, that I have promised off? These likings and antipathies of our na you the history of my life. But, I repeat, of ture are unaccountable, but they exist in every what service would it be to you? You are individual—in some stronger than in others. young and beautiful. You are just entering Byron says,
“Time may remove antipathies, upon a world which has ceased to charm me. but they will recur again ere long;" and the Your imagination is excited by the brilliant same may be said of the first favorable impres- prospect before you; and shall I dim the lustre sions, produced by any object upon the mind. of your eye with the tear of sympathy for my Circumstances may occur to change our opin- sorrows ? Yet, again, you wish that I may ions, but the effect produced at first is never relate to you my past experience, that it may entirely effaced.
serve as a guide or warning to yourself. The Thus was it with Howard's ideal picture of interest I have always felt for you, would be the friend of Inez, although he found it some- sufficient inducement to comply with your what difficult in what light to represent her to wishes, even contrary to my own inclination. his imagination, yet he felt a longing desire to Hear me, then, and judge if there be not truth make her acquaintance, as he was convinced in the assertion, that we are the creatures of that it was this unknown being that had destiny. formed the mind of the young, ardent enthu I will not weary your patience with describsiast.
ing all the scenes and occurrences of my child“ Is she,” thought he, “a pedant, or”—as hood. I was not nursed in stately halls, nor Inex rose and left him to his meditations—“is did my infant feet first learn to tread upon she a creature of life, and light, and beauty, marble floors, while from the pictured walls and feeling, and witchery, like her pupil ? I the eyes of my proud ancestry were bent upon should like to meet her".
the favored daughter of a noble race. No! my “Fred, all alone, hey! What are you think- first impressions were made amid the scenes of ing about ? Bored into the blue devils by that | nature. My childhood was passed in rambling
over the verdant mead, and chasing the but- pine groves, the velvet turf, and the twilight terfly from flower to flower.
solitude of other days. Gradually these feelChildhood is a happy season! and yet I was | ings wore away; and then commenced a new not happy. Young as I was-yes, even from era in my existence. I felt as if awakening the time when I first began to reason and re- from a dream. I looked back to the volumes I Alect-I felt the influence of destiny. I had had read in other days, and the great world conceived the idea that no one loved me--that which was then painted to my heated fancy as I was incapable of inspiring attachment in something bright, dazzling, but beyond my others. Strange to say, even when I wept reach, seemed now unfolded ; and link by link that the bonds of affection that bound me to of that chain which had bound me to solitude mankind were so slight, I loved my self-bound and self, was gradually dissolving in the more solitude. And my native village was well | engrossing trammels of society. suited to nourish such feelings. Apart from Yet still there seemed something wanting! the gay world, in one of the most retired vil As in the fairy palace of Alladin, there was lages of
the wild, uncultivated scenes a' charm wanting, even while the exhilarating of nature were the limits of my world till the cup was filled to overflowing. What was this age of thirteen. From my earliest youth, I charm? Alas! here would I draw a veil, and was passionately fond of reading. But I loved revealing only the sunny side of the picture, only those books that suited my peculiar tem-conceal as long as possible, the dark cloud ris perament. I can well remember the delight ing to obscure its beauty. with which I first perused that favorite with I entered at once into society, and mingled children, " The Arabian Nights.” I hardly ate in all its amusements and its follies. I was ador slept till I finished it, and for a long time mired, courted, flattered—but was I happy? afterwards I was in an unconscious dream. It No! I saw beneath the hollow surface. I enseemed as if everything around me had suffered joyed its fascinations, it is true, but I felt as if a change. My fancy conjured up Genii, and my heart were capable of something higher fairies, and enchanted castles wherever I went. and nobler than the vain pursuits of fashionar These volumes were soon succeeded by others, ble life. I looked with a kind of scorn upon which left not so vivid, but a more lasting im- | immortal beings giving up their whole hearts pression. But books never seemed to be like and souls to the enjoyment of the present mo instructors to my untaught mind. They served ment. I danced, flirted, chatted, and coquetted rather as sources of communication with the with the rest, but it was more to amuse and world. They seemed like mirrors where I saw while away a weary hour than because it my own burning, intense thoughts pictured to afforded me any real happiness. I longed for my view in a substantial form. They seemed some person with whom I could converse as to portray nothing new, but rather to bring with a rational being. My mind was athirst before my eyes the untold sensations of my for something to satisfy its longings, and I felt own breast; to give regular form to what had that all that was offered besides, only disgusted heretofore been confused and unintelligible.- me. When I read of heroes and lofty deeds And yet, although my mind was thus stored when I pored over the volumes of ancient lore with all these living images, I had not the —when I became familiar with names that power of clothing one in a definite shape-- flourished in the olden time-Ilonged for I communed only with myself. I found no some of the same celebrity with whom to hold being to whom I could communicate my own communion with the present. My imaginarestless changes of thought. But I must pass tion grasped at subjects which I felt were above over this period, and hasten to a change of the capacity of those by whom I was surscene. And what a change! Imagine one rounded. When I attempted to converse with who has passed her early years in the solitude my companions upon the subjects which interI have described, suddenly transplanted to the ested me, they told me of some ball or party gay and intoxicating splendors of a city! At in anticipation, and of the conquests I was first, I shrank into myself. I wished myself sure of making. They talked of the theatre, back again. I longed to bathe my brow once and endeavored to excite my interest in its more in the cooling stream which had so often fictitious scenes; and I was at length persuaded reflected in all the innocence of childhood. I to join a party to witness a fine tragedy. I looked out upon the crowded streets, and my went merely to gratify my friends ; for I felt eye ached for the dashing waterfalls, the dark i that it was only one of the many means which
the creatures of the world adopt to drive away scene before me-time - place — everything ennui. I went; and never shall I forget that vanished away, and but that one form seemed evening-it was an era in my existence. visible. Scarcely a moment elapsed, ere an
This was my first visit to the theatre, and of introduction took place, and he was seated by course I was charmed and bewildered at all I my side.
All that I dreamed could be combined in If I was at first attracted by a form which nature or art tv dazzle the imagination were was the embodying of the vague dream of years, there united. A scene of pleasure and en powers of his conversation at once riveted chantment to the spectator; of pain, fatigue, and entranced me. Days, weeks, months passlabor, and anxiety to the actor. How many ed, and I lived only in his presence. I still cankering cares, thought I, may lie beneath mingled in society, but it was he alone that the surface of those sunny smiles, perhaps rendered society delightful. He never adcalled up for the effect of the moment, while dressed me in those light strains of flattery the heart beneath them is bursting! Those and adulation which he bestowed upon others. wild strains of exquisite music, that seem to When he conversed with me, it was in a higher, dare the utmost skill of scientific excellence to loftier tone. O, how every word and look of surpass them, may perhaps be wrung from a his has been cherished in this heart! how did soul which is suffering with anguish. Those I recall them in solitude and silence! I missed countenances which appear to preserve such not the most trifling change in his manner. perfect self-possession, as if nothing could ruffle His enthusiasm for all that was grand and beauor discompose them, may, in a few short hours, tiful, was equal to my own. We perused tobe distorted by the agony of grief, which has gether those volumes which had lost half their been so successfully concealed from the eyes of charm for want of some congenial spirit to the world, and pent up within the tortured share the rapture with which they inspired breast!
me. Now, that pleasure was unalloyed and On this particular night, there was a concen- perfect. Having no one among my own sex tration of every talent. The inimitable actress, with whom I could claim a kindred sympathy, whose star was then in its zenith, entered into is it strange that I soon loved him with all the the character she had chosen, with such force ardor of which a heart like mine was suscepand truth, that she seemed the very being she tible?' And yet I deceived myself; I called it personified, and, scarcely noticing the thunders only friendship. I felt that to deprive me of of applause which greeted her entrance, the his society, would be robbing me of all that deep, rich tones of her voice, betraying not the could render life desirable, and yet I deemed least tremulousness or agitation, rose with such it sufficient happiness to see him every day-to effect that every sound besides, throughout that hang upon his words—to read his thoughts, splendid and numerous audience, was instantly for I often imagined I could do so; to witness hushed.
the display of those brilliant talents which It was during a pause, after one of her most seemed to place him as far above the thoughtbrilliant speeches, that, on turning round, I less beings by whom he was surrounded, as I encounterered a glance which, were I to wan felt myself removed by the proud aspirations der through the earth, and experience every of my own soul fro the dissipation and frivovariety of chance and change, will never be lity around me. I soon ceased to be blinded effaced from my remembrance. You may by this effort at self-deception, and awoke to a smile when I tell you that I had seen that face miserable reality. The charm was broken by a in my dreams—that it had haunted me night simple incident. It was a beautiful moonlight and day--that I had sought to banish this evening, and with a large party of friends I had shadowy image by intercourse with society, just returned from a walk. He, too, was with and that, when my fancy continued to paint us, and I, unconscious of everything, save that it clear as ever to my mind, I tried to find I was leaning upon his arm, and that I was the some one among my acquaintance whom it re- sole object of his thoughts and attention, when sembled. I sought in vain; but when mid his cousin, a gay, lively girl, turned to him and that vast assembly, where hundreds might be said, “Charles, I have a delightful letter at pointed out more striking in appearance, I met home from Mary; I suppose I need not tell you that one look directed towards me with an in- the contents, as you are no doubt favored with tensity of gaze that implied he also had found | a much more interesting epistle from the same the long-sought object of his thoughts, the gay | source," and with a light, reckless laugh, away
she bounded, while I felt the arm upon which his love if I might retain his friendship, and I leaned tremble violently. His conversation, secure that of his bride. Yes, in the agony of which had been so animated, instantly ceased. my heart, I imagined that I could see him I dared not speak, for I could not trust my own wedded to another, if assured that he would voice. A thousand wild conjectures rushed not quite forget me. through my brain with the rapidity of light Thus passed that long dreary night, and the ning. Who was Mary? What was she to next morning the lively Caroline came boundhim? Why was he thus agitated at the an- ing into my room, exclaiming, nouncement of a letter from her ? Was she his “What do you think, Clara! Charles is going sister-his betrothed ? I dared not ask; I off to-day; I suppose we shall soon hear of a scarcely wished to know. He walked on silently. merry wedding, and a pretty new bride to be Not another word passed between us until we introduced to the world of fashion.” reached home. He wished me good night-but “Married !" I exclaimed. in a tone of voice how unlike his usual part * Yes, to my pretty cousin, Mary Stanbrook. ing!-pressed my hand and turned to go away. They have been betrothed from childhood.The light from the window glared upon his Did you not know it ?" face as he did so; it was deadly pale. Inez, I I replied, I know not what, but, pleading never saw him but once again, and then under indisposition, begged to be excused from breakwhat different circumstances !
fast; and, ere the dinner hour had arrived, preIn a few moments I was alone in my room, pared to meet the gay inquisitive world with and with my own fearful thoughts. The veil calmness and indifference. Since that hour had at length fallen from my eyes. I loved life has been a blank to me—a
a long, dull, heavy fondly, madly loved--and a dark presentiment dragging-on of existence-without pleasure came across my mind that I was destined to and without hope. You are many years love in vain. There was a foreboding of evil in younger than I, my sweet friend. Profit by my heart that I could not banish, and I longed my experience, and steel your heart to affecfor, yet dreaded, the return of the next day. tion. Become cold, callous, heartless, like the I sat down by the window and gazed upon the rest of the world. I see you smile at my warnstars, but they seemed to mock me with their ing, and I know that my advice is useless; inbrightness; they had ceased to charm me as of deed had any one bestowed the same upon me, yore, for my adoration had been transferred while I was indulging my brief dream of hope, from them to a mortal, one who had not, like I should have laughed at and rejected it. But them, looked coldly and calmly upon me, but I must hasten to close my narrative. whose thoughts had answered to my thoughts. The next morning I received a letter—the I had often longed for fame, but since I had first and last from the only object that ever known him, I felt that it could only charm awakened an interest in my heart. When we when blended with affection. A new motive meet again, dear Inez, you shall see that letter. had been kindled within me—a wish to please I could not transcribe it; but though, by its kim. Flattery had always been lost upon me. contents I was at length convinced that we He never flattered, but there are looks which were separated for ever, there was a balm cannot be mistaken, and I often read in his the mingled with their bitterness. Fate had torn praise he never uttered. I had exchanged soli us from each other, but in heart we were tary communion with my own mind for con united. verse with one higher, nobler, and of deeper, stronger energies. And now all was at an end. Inez was not what the world would have I laid my burning head upon my pillow, but called beautiful. Her eye neither imaged the not to sleep. I could not rest, for that haunt- violet nor the hue of the raven.
It was, in its ing image pursued me still. It would not leave expression, brilliant. Her dark hair parted me. It hard indeed become my destiny. The from a brow that a poet would never have cruel suspense under which I labored was worse likened to alabaster, nor a Lavater have given than the most terrible reality. Yet one convic- the impress of intellect from its height alone. tion came like an ice-bolt to my heart. He had But, awaken the dream-like repose of her feanever said he loved me. Yet I might be mis- tures-lead her to converse upon subjects which taken in my fears. Ho might yet be mine, or, arouse the lightning of the soul, which, from if ordered otherwise--and he was destined for the depth of thought, called up images of the another—I felt that I could even bear to resign | good, the true, the beautiful—and the sparkle
of the sunbeams upon the waters were not Dear, imaginative Inez! had not thy friend's more dazzling. It was a magic, arising not letter warned thee ? Ah! when did any one from nature's lovely tints alone, but the pro- learn wisdom by the experience of another? methean fire, giving a charm less striking at The fair girl wept over the sorrowful history first than the delicate coloring of perfect beau- of her friend, but she saw not the charm stealty, but more enchanting to the senses, and ing over herself. She wondered that another possessing more lasting influence over the feels should fall so blindly into the snare, while the ings.
silken meshes were already winding around Inez lived in an ideal world of beautiful | her own heart. fancies, but she was not the less a very crea- Three weeks of uninterrupted pleasure had ture of earth; and the rainbows of hope and glided by, and the fashionable world were preimagination which encircled her, were often paring for a return—warned by the chilling shrouded by the storms of life. But hers was winds of September-wearied by the mononot a heart to be cowed or broken by trifles; tony of the scene, and eager to plunge again and, in the wild haunts of nature, in her lonely into the gayeties of the great metropolis. The solitudes, or in the fairy realms of poetry, belles counted over their conquests, and the she sought refuge from the harshness of the beaux mourned over their disappointments, world.
and groaned at sight of empty purses. CorneIt was a nature thus artless and impassioned, lia Stanbrook hid her vexations—if she had yet gifted with high resolves and firm purposes, any—under a mask of cold indifference, or that was ealculated to chain in lasting fetters assumed hauteur. Her Chevalier, Beaumont, a mind and heart like Frederick Howard's. answered his father's interrogatories as to his Her mind became the mirror of his own. But expected success, with an assurance that all she seemed unconscious of her power over him, was going on well; but that the expense inand he was in no haste to interrupt the sweet curred for boquets and other presents for his confidence at present existing between them. intended, had drained his purse; and if his An indescribable magical attraction seemed to indulgent sire would only lend him a few doldraw them toward each other. If they were lars until his marriage, it would relieve him in the same room, it was not long ere they from anticipated mortifications. For the crestood or sat together. They inquired not into dit of the family, the old man re-filled the purse the cause; it was enough that the result was he had sworn never to replenish again; and satisfactory. It seemed a gradual mingling of the various characters we have introduced in mind with mind, extending far beyond the our story, whirled off again to the emporium stagnant atmosphere of society, and seeking of fashion, to which we, as “lookers-on in refuge in those nobler resources fashion can | Verona,” will follow them. neither understand nor appreciate.
(To be continued.)
· SECOND LOVE.
You have touched a chord that has passive slept
For years in its silent cell;
Where the fiat of sorrow fell;
| You have wakened a voice that has long been still
'Neath the spell-fraught wand of woe, As the hushed song of a murmuring rill
When frosts have stayed its flow; But e'en as the summer's ray melteth the band, So the light of chy love hath broken the wand.
'Tis the voice of a soul! and its silvery tone
Flows free, as in days of yore;
In unison perfect and pure;