was reported as immensely rich, and the aunt of this syren fixed on him as an appropriate match for her high-born, pennyless niece.

The young Louisa was surpassingly beautiful and fascinating, accomplished to the highest degree, and smiled sweetly and encouragingly on the handsome Baronet.

He never saw her but in an atmosphere of fashion, and in the midst of elegant bustle; so that, although he was desperately in love with her, and finally married her, he knew absolutely nothing of her real character and even her person had rarely been seen by him, excepting in the becoming costumes of "Tableaux," or in the delusive glare of private theatricals, or the elegant evening dress.

However, he was not disappointed in her beauty; that stood the test of daylight and déshabille, but her mind what an absence of all that an English husband looks for; what a wretched companion was she to him, though delightful to all others; what extravagance, what confusion in his ménage; and then, to

crown all, he discovered that her heart was cold and her affections impenetrable! Where was the sweet reciprocity of thoughts and feelings he had anticipated, the deep security, the soothing peace, the hallowed charm of happy wedded

life.

Louisa's whole thoughts were divided between dressing and flirting, and incredible sums were lavished on her toilette. No smiles welcomed her husband on his return home, but a gloomy apathy was her habitual frame of mind when not in exciting society.

People talk a great deal about marriage being such a fearful lottery; but the truth is that half those who marry, rush headlong into the noose without stopping for a moment to weigh their chances of happiness. One marries a pair of bright eyes; another a fine figure; another, a perfect musician; and the majority the bewitching charms of gold; and these unreasonable beings begin to talk about domestic bliss, and consider themselves exceedingly aggrieved when they find that these same bright

eyes look particularly dull in a tête-à-tête; that the handsome foot and well-turned ancle have a strong love of locomotion inherent in them; that the fine form wishes for other admirers besides a husband; and what is most aggravating of all, that gold, dear-bought, allpowerful gold, will not purchase happiness.

The young Lady Sedley's house, in Grosvenorsquare, became the gayest and most difficult of access in London. She was the brightest and most admired beauty of the season, and she wished for nothing more; but poor Herbert's hopes had been wrecked, and he found himself irretrievably linked to a being, heartless and frivolous in the extreme. His love was quickly dispelled, and a void was in his bosom which nothing could fill.

When musing sorrow weeps the past,

And mourns the present pain;

How sweet to think of peace at last,

And feel that death is gain.

NOEL.

CHAPTER VIII.

Not seldom, clad in radiant vest,
Deceitfully goes forth the morn;
Not seldom ev'ning in the west,
Sinks smilingly forsworn.

The smoothed seas will sometimes prove,

To the confiding bark untrue;

And if she trusts the stars above,

They can be treach'rous too.

WORDSWORTH.

We will now return to Teresa Cellini. Sir Edward St. John's devotion for the beautiful Teresa had increased every time he saw her, and the Princess M.--observed with delight the distinction which his admiration bestowed on her favourite. The affectionate Chiara was wild with joy at her friend's prospects, and all

Florence considered the marriage as a settled

thing.

It was impossible not to love Teresa Cellini, and she was a universal favourite. She was

so gentle, yet so undeviatingly sincere; so grateful for kindness, so touching in her sadness, and so bewitching in her playfulness, that she gained irresistibly upon the affections of all who knew her.

Then her devotion to her father was so intense, yet unpretending, that it created a powerful interest for her in all feeling bosoms.

Her naturally fine voice was now cultivated, and even her masters sometimes paused in astonishment as they listened to her almost inspired strains. Everything that Teresa did or said, bore the impress of a noble and original genius; yet was she essentially soft and feminine, shrinking from display, and distressed by admiration

Sir Edward St. John had travelled much, and had been associated with many beautiful and talented women, but they all appeared to