And let not those who grieve sorely, and have long grieved, deem that fate will frown for ever on them; nothing here below is lasting, and a bright change may come over the darkest destiny, as the German poet so beautifully expresses it, "Freude kömmt auf Traurigkeit; Unter Trümmern grünen Kränze.” In the evening, Mr. Alexander's tenants all assembled to celebrate the harvest home, and tables were spread in the park for a plentiful supper, and many a heart beat high with the glad anticipation of this long-looked for evening. But alas! the good people were sadly disappointed, when, towards sunset, immense masses of black cloud rolled over the sky and threatened an approaching storm. Soon the whole heavens were dark and lurid, loud peals of thunder reechoed through the hushed atmosphere, and large drops of rain began to fall. Then the storm began in right earnest; the wind blew a hurricane, the distant waves were heard roaring and dashing furiously against the rocks, between the claps of thunder; the lightning streamed along the atmosphere, the trees creaked, the windows rattled, and all nature seemed convulsed. In silence and awe the visitors and family at Rossfirth assembled after dinner in the principal drawing-room. It seemed as though it would be impious to talk of trivial things during this fearful strife of the mighty elements, and no one spoke above their breath. But there was one of the accustomed circle missing, though no one had marked his defection. This individual was Gilbert Manners, and the storm without, equalled not the devastating whirl of passions within his breast. He paced up and down his chamber with hurried strides, stopping now and then, clenching his teeth and his hands. Oh! he was sorely to be pitied! Deformed, neglected, lone, almost disliked as he was, he had dared to love one of the most beautiful and peerless of God's crea tures; he had staked his little all of peace and happiness on her favour; he had dared to hope for a return of his ardent affection; he had felt that, blessed with her smiles, the good of his nature would triumph over its bitterness, and that he might win from men, by his virtues and high deeds, that respect and admiration he so deeply coveted. But his wild dream had been rudely broken; she-the one treasured thing of his life was lost to him for ever! she loved another; -she was about to become that other's bride! "Fool-fool-idiot that I was," he exclaimed passionately, as he stamped on the ground, "to cheat myself with the hope that she could ever love me-me? - Oh, God! my fate is more terrible than I can bear-what have I done to deserve such misery?" As he spoke he sank into a chair, and covering his face with his hands, he sobbed aloud. He had been a strange and peculiar being from his birth; as a child, he had never loved to join in the sports of other children; he had pursued his studies at college with avidity, but he did not evince the slightest pleasure at his frequent triumphs. He had ever appeared sullen and gloomy to all who knew him; he had never mixed in society, on the contrary, sedulously shunned it, and though on one or two occasions, when under extraordinary excitement, he had been heard to pour forth a stream of eloquence which surprised and convinced all his hearersyet was he usually taciturn, and averse to conversation. Beauty had never possessed any charms for him; it might be that he feared its scorn, should he enter the lists with the fair and goodly;—he had no friend, no favoured companion; yet those who most disliked him, feared him equally, and no one ever dared sneer at him in his presence. Yet few mortals had ever possessed fiercer passions, more dazzling talents-more brilliant and versatile genius, more nobility of soul, intenser feeling than Gilbert Manners; but all were lost and buried in the bitterness of his nature, and his dread of scorn. He feared the extremes to which his passions might lead him, and there fore he chained them down with a strong hand; he fancied that not all the efforts of his genius could win for him forgetfulness of his deformity in the world's opinion, and he forbade that genius to show itself. But from the moment in which he first saw Teresa Cellini, a change came over his heart. A great and oppressive weight seemed to roll from his breast; the worm of bitterness ceased its former gnawings, the natural softness and kindliness of his nature broke cheeringly through the clouds which had so long obscured them, and happiness, for the first time in his rayless life, seemed not altogether unattainable. Like a thunderbolt had the intelligence of Teresa's love for Sedley and approaching marriage fallen on him, and suddenly did it change the whole current of his blood, imbuing it with tenfold bitterness. The gamester who has staked fame and fortune on a single stroke, and has lost it; the mariner, who struggling for life, and buffeting with the fierce waves, sees the vora |