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hard I cannot please my own taste, when it is to precipitancy of selfishness, told Anne his passion be bought out of my own money, that I've and his intentions. been working so hard to save, this long time.” Anne, who was a simple-minded, modest girl,
Such an argument was unanswerable. John was perfectly overpowered by the generosity of submitted to the thriftless blue moreen; but the this offer; and, dazzled by his fine person and prudence of his bride's choice remains yet to be honeyed words, thought she could never love proved. At any rate, he purchased, by his con- him sufficiently. His vanity was fully gratified cession, cloudless smiles for the whole of that by her unbounded and artless adoration, but he happy summer day.
was prudent enough to enjoin her to keep his But we have left poor Anne Hatton waiting projects secret for the present; until Anne had timidly for her turn. Poor girl, she is pale and displayed so much genius in her art as to give melancholy; and the coarse dress she wears is colour of propriety to his proposition for her adcovered with rusty crape. So young, too, and vancement in dignity. Anne was well pleased yet she has seen sorrow. You know at once, by to let matters continuie in their agreeable state, her neatness of person, her sallowness of com- and all went on smoothly till the end of Febplexion, and small parcel of work, that she is a ruary: then Anne heard that her poor old young dressmaker-a very skilful one her mis- mother was seriously ill, and desired the pretress would tell you, and the best fitter in her sence of her only child. Anne asked leave of establishment. But she is past work now, and absence from Madame Sarbaine; it was propast all feeling of pride in her skill. Six months mised for the ensuing week, provided no obstacle ago she came up to London, full of health and rose to prevent her being spared. hopes, conscious of her own aptitude for her Alas! the first drawing-room was fixed unusutrade, sure of making a fortune, and that right ally early in the season, and the dressmakers speedily. Then she loved finery and pleasure, were overwhelmed with sudden and peremptory quite as much as Harriet Lucas does now: she orders. Anne must go from house to house, was giddy and untried. Her principal, Madame trying and fitting on rich robes for the lovely Sarbaine, was a good-natured, selfish, pros- debutantes no respite for her. The weather perous person, with a high reputation in the was very cold, with a bitter east wind : Anne fashionable circles, a large connection in busi- caught a cold, which progressed into a cough: ness, an increasing fortune, and an only son. her mind was in a most unhappy state: the ac
Adolphe Sarbaine was indolent, easy-tem-counts from her mother grew worse and worse. pered, and selfish like his mamma; but he was Often, when she came home at night, she exceedingly good-looking, dressed well, and un- thought of running away by stealth ; but she derstood the art of flattery. His part in the was a timid girl, and the long journey, the establishment was to answer the street-door; for crowds at the railway, and the difficulty of esit behoved so great a dressmaker as Madame caping from Madame Sarbaine's establishment, Sarbaine to have a male attendant on her cus- made her put off the deed until it was too tomers, and she was too stingy to go to the ex- late. The day before the drawing-room she pense of keeping a footman. Adolphe did not had been at the house of a young countess, aldislike his post : he had the advantage of seeing tering the trimmings of her satin train, which all the lovely aristocrats who swept up to his the lady had ordered should be done under her mamma's door in their lordly chariots; and he own eye. The Countess had been very cross, and was quite happy in the succession of imaginary found fault with all her exertions : not a flower love-affairs which he cultivated for the sake of or a ribbon was where she wanted it, and the these haughty beauties, not one of whom would whole day was spent in trying to satisfy her cahave condescended to accept his services as foot- prices. At last the difficulties were all overman!
come by the patient fingers of the young artiste : When Anne Hatton, however, came from the drapery fell most gracefully. The Countess the fresh meadows of Evesham, with all the fra- tried it on, and eyed herself, full of complagrance and brightness of the country about her cency, in the cheval glass. Even the fastidious fair young face, Monsieur Adolphe made the soubrette declared, “ Que, mademoiselle, avait discovery that beauty and elegance belonged to un gout vraiment Parisien ;” and Anne, weary no peculiar set of the haut-ton. There was a and dispirited, plodded her way home. Adolphe sense of fitness and propriety about Anne that did not open the door as usual ; one of the girls made everything she did exactly what it ought did, and said, with a rather significant gesture, to have been : her liveliness was tempered by that Madame wished to speak with her in the that same tact, and full of gaiety and gladness parlour. as she was, her every movement and gesture was "Any letters for me, Miss Niblett?" gasped that of an aristocrat of nature. Adolphe first poor Anne. wondered at her—for she was a solecism in his “Yes-no-it was not for you--for Madame; creed of fashion-then he admired her, then he she'll tell you.”
He began to arrange mentally a A foreboding chill struck Anne's heart ; she charming project, that his mother should pro- grew pale as death, and rather staggered than mote the skilful apprentice to be forewoman, and walked into the parlour, and the presence of afterwards receive her into partnership as his Madame Sarbaine. That lady sat very etiffly in wife. Having been a spoiled child, he made no her chair, very gravely eyeing the poor girl : her doubt of his parent's consent, and, with all the expression was of mingled pity and indignation, She was sorry for Anne's bereavement, but she | Adolphe to the play. Then, all was brightness ; had discovered her son's attachment, and was now, the very faces of the fat-cheeked boys, who furiously enraged at the presumptuous appren- copy all the entries into the ledgers, seem al. tice. She began in a curiously undecided tone : tered to her; the clerks look grim; the at“I am sorry to tell you, Miss Hatton, that your mosphere is hot and sickening. She draws mother is dead, poor woman! There is the down her black veil, and with unsteady step letter ; you can read the particulars. And now, bad hurries out to the sunny, noisy street. To it been at any other time, I should have been morrow she will be among the quiet fields: can seriously displeased ; I don't know how I should they restore to her her young gladness, so soon have punished you-an impertinent upstart to departed ? Can she live upon the memory of past make love to my son! I daresay you thought happiness? As she sits, vainly striving to earn you had it all your own way, Miss! Prettily a scanty livelihood, by making Sunday gowns you forgot your station and mine! But I don't for the farmer's wives and daughters, will not mean to scold you now; you have trouble of your the gawdy splendours of London come back on own; though I must say it looks very like a her? The luxurious residences of the nobility judgment on your audacity! Now go away, | --the fair, languid features of those stately damand let me hear no more of it. You must see sels, whose forms she has so often robed the that no young person who is so destitute of pro- glitter of the streets, the thunder of the equipriety, so forward and presuming as you have pages, the Sunday lounges with Adolphe in the been, can be fit to remain in my establishment. park—will not these uneasy memories fling a You can depart on Saturday, when all the feverish excitement into the monotony of her dresses are finished and sent home. I don't existence, and poison her dearly-purchased tranwish to be severe; I see you are in trouble.” quillity?
She might have expatiated for ever; Anne But we have forgotten our own business, heard nothing but that her mother was dead : and the clerk is calling on us most impatiently. the bursting of her love's day-dream was un- “ Really, sir, we can't wait longer : office shuts heeded at the moment. She moved mechanic at two : it only wants eight minutes !" cally from the room, and went to the work- And their dinners—the pork pies, the mutton room; the girls started forwards at her entrance. chops—we are keeping the poor hungry crea* Oh, Miss Hatton !" cried one, “show me how tures from the greatest pleasure of their humto put on this ruche.”
drum lives. We present ourselves at the desk, "Oh, Miss Hatton!” cried another, “should sign the receipt, pocket the cash, and shuffle these flower-stalks lie upward or downward ?" out along the dark passage. In our rear we hear
But, good gracious!” exclaimed two or a confused slamming down of desk-lids, flutterthree together, “how ill she looks! Is her ing of papers, pushing back of wooden stools
, mother really dead ?”.
and gabbling of many tongues ; and, in a few "Dead!” screamed Anne, at that word, and seconds, clerks, cashier, and ledger-copying boys she burst into hysterical laughing, that presently tumble pell-mell out of the office, and seizing put the whole room into confusion. Before sundry shapeless articles of head-gear, diva night Anne was in a delirious fever, and in her down the neighbouring streets in search of their wild ravings mingling the name of Adolphe with long-anticipated repast. her calls for her dead mother. For some days The savings' bank is shut for the day, and she lay in great danger, but her youth triumphed we are fain to take refuge in that confectioner's, for the time, and she recovered.
and bury ourselves and our experiences in a Alas for man's constancy! Adolphe had had brimming glass of raspberry ice—“Another, if a good rating from his mother for his folly, in you please. How delicious the fragrance of caring for a designing chit like that Anne Hat- those strawberries! Those early peaches and ton; and after he had relieved himself by a hothouse grapes would soon squander all the burst of passion, and a defiance of his mamma, savings we have seen this day withdrawn; but his disinterested affection died a natural death! oh, how charming a sniff of that bouquet, after His fickleness was caught by the beauty of the the sultry steaming we have undergone in our season, a high-born fiancée, who came very fre- Peep into the Office of a Savings Bank ! quently to arrange about her wedding paraphernalia. When Anne Hatton returned after her illness to get her trunk, her bloodless face and sunken eyes impressed him with horror instead
COMA BERENICES. of love. She had lost the beauty which had won his light vows, and the selfish man saw no charm in her patient and uncomplaining sorrow.
“Venus, goddess, queen of beauty, So have all Anne's early hopes been cut off in
Hear my prayer of love and duty the bud: she is returning to the home of child
See me kneeling at thine altar, hood with a sad heart, and there is none to wel
Hear, oh hear, the prayers I falter !
He whose arm hath been my rest, come her as of old. To-day she comes for her little
Who hath pillowed on my breastsavings, to defray the expenses of her journey to He whose being is to me Evesham. Her eyes fill as she looks round the Dearer far than life can be place. Last time she came here, it was to draw Evergetes, my loved lord, out a sovereign to buy a new gown, to go with Leaves these arms to wield the sword.
BY MRS. WHITE.
If amidst the carnage fatal
Her beauty's chiefest crown;
Her shining hair fell down-
Its odorous depths threw out;
Smiled on that wife devout.
Silent but swift the bark moves on,
Are bathed in sorrow's tide :
And wreath them on a bride. Enough, that loving hearts have met In that wild rapture to forget The weary hours by doubt made longer, The wish that grew with each day strongerThat thirst for kindred thought and look That sever'd bosoms scarcely brook.
And Berenice seems fairer now,
In Evergete's eyes,
With the bright hair that lies
Its purest sacrifice. Jewels and gold are flashing there Less precious than that silken hair, To her who knew how deep a part Young beauty claims of woman's heart, And rarer seem'd that gift, and dearer Than all that riches scatter'd near her.
Many a day hath come and gone,
Or on the shore all gently die
A sea-shell when a breath sweeps by,
And whispers through it mournfully ;
One little spot of rippling water,
Till all successively have caught her ;
In a watch of prayer and love,
That skimm'th the waves above,
Say, Hope, is her warrior there? Or does he rest in that dreamy grove Where Orpheus tells his fatal love
To the ears of another sphere?
Oh! Berenice, what unto thee
Was beauty without love ?
A lost and mateless dove !
As woman's love may be,
Of greater sanctity ;
As thine, fair devotee.
[Berenice, the wife of Evergetes, upon his leaving her on a dangerous expedition, vowed to dedicate her hair to Venus if he came back in safety. Sometime after his victorious return the locks which were in the temple of Venus disappeared, and Conon, an astronomer, publicly reported that Jupiter bad carried them away, and made them a constellation.]
By spells we cannot conquer, and by fears Which bid us shudder at the gulph of years Whither the stemless current sweeps us on, O’er rocks we shun not, for the power is gone!
BY GEORGINA C. MUNRO.
The wings of midnight shadow o'er the earth,
Which silent lies before her presence bow'd; The voice of music, and the laugh of mirth,
Alike are hushed-grief mourns no more aloud : While slumber flits, like a good angel, by,
And soothes the pain of many a troubled breast, Stills the wild throb of anguish, and the sigh
Which breathes the sadness of a soul oppress'd. The winds have sunk beneath the steps of night
No murmur rests upon the moveless airThe stars shine forth, but with a dreamy light,
As though they slumbered in those regions where Thought may not wander. How these moments
Thou sayest there's a sadness
Upon her lovely brow; As if the sudden gladness
Of youth had left it now. Ah! little dost thou know All the deep and deadly wo That hath touched its living snow
With that shade.
An air of sweetness in their deep repose !
Joyous as though he never woke a fear,
From visions but too beautiful for truth !
From dreams where all the happiness of youth,
With vanish'd music filled the sleeping ear,
Ere joy was darkened by the clouds of fear,
With all ambition's torch could kindle there,
Glory łath twined her chaplet round his brow,
To feel with tenfold bitterness its doom-
The all that death can be without the tomb !
Thou sayest there's a paleness
Upon her lovely cheek,
Or a broken heart bespeak.
That pale cheek.
Of fixed despair there lies
Of those celestial eyes.
Have been wrung.
In her low voice's tone,
Of youth from thence had flown. Ah! once that voice was gay As the warbling lark's in May; But sorrows chased away
Each light tone.
Thou say'st with sighs unbidden
Oft doth her bosom swell, As from a grief that's hidden
Too deep for words to tell. Ah! can we memory crush, Or the recollections hush That at its call will rush
O'er the soul ?
Thou sayest when the joyous
Are gathered laughing round, That she shrinks, as if she dreaded
To hear that laughter's sound. Ah ! do not blame the heart That in mirth can bear no part; It is pierced by Sorrow's dart
To the core.
So fade those vision'd scenes of hope and light,
Which brightness round the spirit's childhood cast When all seem'd beautiful ; till from our sight
The fairy fabric of illusion pass'd,
The truth a shadow which for ever frown'd
And we cast helpless on its waters, bound
She will never more be happy,
Till within the quiet grave
That to life its darkness gave.
S. J. G.
FAITHFUL UNTO DE AT H.
(Translated from Emilie Flygare Carlen, Authoress of the “Rose of Tiseltön.”)
BY M. A. Y.
A young and lovely group sat on the terrace to you that I love you more than myself; nor in front of the romantic villa of the widow of can any circumstances effect an alteration in this the Professor M--: it consisted of two beau- feeling. My affection is boundless and untiful girls, the daughters of that lady, and changeable; it is thine for time and for etertheir accepted and affianced lovers, and a large nity !" brown dog, that gravely sat up on his hind feet, Rosa smiled an enchanting smile, half increwhile his fore-paws rested on the table, and his dulous, half melancholy; and Leopold Fhead leaned against the fair and lovely shoulder the affianced husband of Julie, exclaimed, almost of Rosa M—The rich glow of a setting sun rudely, “ It makes me quite sick to hear such shed its rays over them, and lighted up the nonsense. It is unwise to swear to anything; for scene with its warm effulgence.
who can answer for his own heart? I am sure The Mademoiselles M- had long been I love my Julie as dearly as-as a man ought to considered the belles of their neighbourhood, love his intended wife, and yet I can conceive of and were celebrated far and near, not merely as circumstances which might effect an alteration handsome, accomplished, well-dressed girls, but in my feelings. For instance, if I were to seeas amiable, generous, and good. They sought which I trust in God I never shall—that Julie not celebrity: modesty floated round them, heigh- took too much pleasure in the society of another tening every charm which it veiled, as the moss man; or increases the beauty of the rose. Julie, the Here he paused; for Julie's frank, affectionate
eldest sister, was chiefly famed for her talents ; eyes were raised reproachfully to his, and she I while to Rosa fell the palm of beauty; and both whispered, “ Hush, hush! I will not have you
were worshipped by the common herd, for they give voice to such ideas.” were heiresses.
“ I was not serious, dearest,” he said, kissing As for the two gentlemen, they had three her hand; “ I only wished to show Wilhelm qualities in common, viz., handsome person, what folly it was to utter such rhodomontade elegant and pleasing manners, and a good in- stuff.” come; but here the resemblance ceased. Their “ Well, and all you have showed me is, that characters were by no means similar, as we shall you will turn out a jealous husband. For my presently see.
own part now, I shall be pleased to see my Rosa Everybody said—and when everybody says a admired, and proud of possessing a wife whom thing, of course it must be true—that it would others look on with admiration, and envy me have been impossible to find two couples so well my good fortune.” matched. The young people themselves were “ It is very evident that our opinions are convinced that such was the fact, for love had diametrically opposite,” observed Leopold. "I drawn them together; and it was not often that hope I shall never turn out a jealous husband; four happier hearts throbbed in unison than did but I certainly must say that I shall wish to every Saturday, when the wooers escaped from keep my wife to myself, and shall feel perfectly their engagements, and came down to Hillinge content if the world suffers her to pass unto spend their time until Monday should again noticed and unadmired.” summon them back to business.
Although perfectly free from all coquetry, On the evening on which our story com- Julie thought that this was carrying the thing mences it wanted just two months of the ap- rather too far, but she forbore to make any repointed wedding-day, and they sat talking evi- mark, for fear of touching a string that might dently on some most interesting topic; for eyes produce only discord, and revibrate hereafter glistened and cheeks glowed, and even the dog unpleasantly. Besides, she was too wise to wish looked gravely from one to the other, as if her lover to seem aught that the husband would weighing the matter in his mind.
not be, or to arrogate to herself a short-lived Yes, yes! we know that all men say so tyranny which would hereafter make obedience without reflecting on the import of their words,” a painful duty. said the lively Rosa, as, suffering the stocking The subject was dropped, and silence fell on which she had been industriously knitting to them all. Wilhelm amused himself by watching sink into her lap, she struck her lover Wilhelm some hay-makers in an adjoining field, Leopold lightly and playfully on the shoulder with the by sketching the dog on the table with a pencil disengaged needle.
formed by dipping his finger in wine; the “Not all, my angel,” replied Wilhelm, taking maidens knitted on most industriously. Before her little hand in his, Not all; for I swear either of the little party had started any fresh