Page images
PDF
EPUB

countryman is suffering from watching and exhaustion, and his imagination is easily excited. The next scene will calm him. The saint, victorious over the most importunate of mortal passions, will resolutely make her vows, and receive the veil."

66 Oh, then we shall see her face, after all ?”

"

Yes, and with all the factitious charm that dress and ornament can lend it; for, to render her renunciation of the world more striking, she is to appear in a bridal dress, decked with the vanities that we women cling last to;-but hush! the curtain is rising !"

The curtain rose, and discovered the chapel of a convent. The nuns and their superior stood on one side, a priest and attendants on the other. A golden crucifix was placed in the centre, with a figure of the Saviour, as large as life. Before this, St. Thérèse was kneeling. Her dress was white silk, embroidered with pearls, with a full sleeve, looped to the shoulder with pearls. A few symbolical orange-buds drooped over her forehead, certainly not whiter than the brow on which they rested. Her hair was parted in front, and drawn up behind in a Grecian knot of rich curls, and fastened there with a diamond cross. She was pale as monumental marble; her eyes not raised to Heaven, but riveted to earth, as if she were still clinging to the parting friend. The priest advanced to cut off her hair, the last office previous to investing her with the gray gown and fatal veil. As he unfastened the diamond cross, her bright tresses fell over her neck and shoulders, and, reaching even to the ground, gave the finishing touch to her beauty, and called forth a general shout of "Beautiful! beautiful! most beautiful!"

Over every other voice, and soon stilling every other, was heard the King's, and, seized with an access of madness, he

rushed upon the stage clapping his hands and screaming, “She is mine! my bride! Out with ye, ugly nuns! She is mine! mine!" Each reiteration was followed by a maniac yell.

[ocr errors]

Nay, she is mine! my own Violette! my betrothed wife" interposed Montano, springing forward and encircling Violette with one arm, while he repelled Charles with the other.

A general rising followed. The stage was filled with the nobles, rushing forward to chastise the stranger who had presumed to lay his hands on sacred majesty. A hundred weapons were drawn, and pointed at Montano. There was a

Babel confusion of sounds. At this crisis, Valentine penetrated into the midst of the mêlée, whispering, as she passed Montano, "Be quiet-be prudent-leave all to me."

The lords, who had more than once seen her power over the madness of their sovereign, fell back. She placed herself between the King and Montano, and putting her hand soothingly on Charles, she said, with a smile, " Methinks, my lord King, we are all beside ourselves with this bewitching show,we know not who or what we are. Here is a churl hath dared to come between the King and his subject, and you, my sovereign," (in a whisper), "have strangely forgotten your Queen's presence. Unhand that maiden, sir stranger. Kneel, my child, to your gracious sovereign, and let him see you loyally hold yourself at his disposal." Violette mechanically obeyed.

"Nay, my pretty one, kneel not," said Charles, still wild, but no longer violent. "Ah, I had forgot! here are the bridal orange-buds. Come, come, you lazy priest, come marry us!" Violette looked as if she would fain again take refuge in Montano's arms.

"To-morrow, my lord King, will surely be soon enough,"

whispered Valentine with a confidential air, and, pointing to Isabel, she added, "it would not seem well to have the rites performed in her presence!" The Queen, with characteristic nonchalance, had remained quietly in her place, where she seemed quite absorbed in devouring a bunch of delicious grapes.

"You are right, dear sister," replied the King,—thus, in his softened moods, he always addressed Valentine," it is not according to church rule .to marry one wife in presence of another!" He then burst into a peal of idiotic laughter, which, after continuing for some moments, left him in a state of imbecility, so nearly approaching to unconsciousness, that he was conveyed to his palace without making the slightest resistance.

A general movement followed the King's departure, and cries rose, that the stranger must be manacled and conveyed to prison. The Duchess of Orleans interposed. "My lords," she said, "I pray ye give this youth into my charge. He is my countryman. I will be responsible for him to our gracious sovereign." There were murmurings of hesitation and discontent. "In sooth, my lords," added Valentine, "ye should not add an injustice to a stranger to our usages, to the error you have already committed this night, in bringing our royal master, but half recovered from his malady, into this heated atmosphere and exciting scene ;-it were well, if we can avoid it, to preserve no memorials of this night's imprudence." This last hint effected what an appeal to their justice had failed to obtain, and the lords permitted Montano unmolested to withdraw with the Duchess of Orleans.

Intent on making those happy, who could be happy, Valentine bade Montano and Violette attend her to her carriage. After weeping with joy on her lover's bosom, Violette's first

words were, "My father, my brothers, Montano, can ye tell me aught of them ?"

66

They are safe, safe and well, in all save their ignorance of you, dear Violette," replied Montano; "and by this time. are they arrived in my happy country."

"Thank God!—and my dear old grandmother?”

"Nay, ask no farther to-night."

"Better it is, my good friend," said Valentine, " to satisfy her inquiry now, while her cup is full and sparkling with joy; —you can bear, my child, patiently a single bitter drop?"

"She was murdered, then ?"

"She is at rest, my child, you may weep, we should weep for the good and kind.”

Before the little party separated for the night, Violette explained, that in consequence of having been seen at the window on the day of Montagu's execution, she had been sought out by the managers of the mystery, and compelled, in the King's name, to obey their behests.

"And to-morrow," said Valentine, "ye shall obey mine. I, too, will be the manager of a mystery, and real espousals shall be enacted by Montano and Violette; then, ho! for my happy country."

FANNY MCDERMOT.

CHAPTER I.

"Then said she, "I am very dreary,
He will not come," she said.

She wept. "I am aweary, aweary,
Oh God, that I were dead!"

INVENTION need not be taxed for incidents fitted to touch the heart, nor need they be heightened with the dyes of romance. The daily life of our own cities abounds in events over which, if there be tears in heaven, surely the angels weep. It is not to draw tears, which flow too easily from susceptible young readers, that the following circumstances are related, but to set forth dangers to which many are exposed, and vices which steep the life God has given as a blessing, in dishonour, misery, and remorse.

A few years since, there lived on the east side of our city, where cheap and wretched residences abound, one Sara Hyat. Sara was a widow, not young, nor pretty, nor delicate, with none of the elements of romantic interest; but old, tall, angular, and coarse, with a face roughened by hardship, sharpened by time, and channeled by sorrow. Her voice was harsh, and her

« PreviousContinue »