CHAP. XV. The household had been long retired, all seemed still in Honoré Fauvel's house; nevertheless, independent of its master-whom we have left just quitting his oratory-another person waked, and was even about leaving the mansion. Who was it that chose this midnight hour to thread the deserted streets of Nantes, and what is more, to venture far beyond their limits? It was Mauricette ! An indefinite presentiment had haunted her since the day she had witnessed the furtive entrance of six cavaliers to the cottage inhabited by Rosemadoc! In vain did the echo of Sauvegrain's menacing threats recur to her memory; the imminence of danger disappeared before the idea of perils she could not define, till at length her anxiety overcame every other feeling, and she heard only the heart-whisper which bid her seek her husband. The young wife cautiously quitted her chamber, listened to the silence-interrupted only by the beating of her own heart-descended the wide stair-case, and sought the door which gave egress towards the street. She found it at last; already her hand was on the lock, when the portals suddenly unclosed, and placed her, for the second time that day, face to face with Sauvegrain! He was returning much sooner than usual from Casilda's, and was far from being in even his customary good humour, which must be accounted for by reason that the evening had passed in a most unsatisfactory manner to the would-be Toledian and her gallant, through the presence, in the saloon of the hotel where she had taken up her residence, of some strange faces, who, despite their costume and company manners, gave uneasy ideas about the "police," and disagreeable thoughts connected with these gentry by those who dislike their aspect and which constrained the lady to play very low stakes-the more provoking as they had just got hold of a millionaire merchant from Hamburgh, whose round fat visage seemed to say, My purse is too heavy have the goodness to help me with it! They had been obliged by prudence to give up this prey, and not only this, but, in order to circumvent sharp eyes which appeared very watchful, to actually turn their science against themselves, and lose considerable sums with good grace. It was a clever trick; but, as it left him with empty pockets, he returned to his nominal home as furious from his self-imposed losses as if he had met with and been over-reached by some more disgraceful gambler than himself! It follows, of course, that she whom he was so unluckily to meet the first on entering was a most irritating sight to him. At sight of Sauvegrain Mauricette sprung back, hoping to escape in the obscurity which surrounded her. But he had recognized her, and divined the motive which brought her at such an hour within two steps of the street. "You come to meet me?" said he to her. " But the night-air is dangerous. I fear you will take cold; let me entreat you to return." Thus saying, Sauvegrain fastened the door, and immediately assuming the tone and manner of a justly irritated husband, advanced towards the trembling Mauricette, and seizing her arm with brutal force, he continued: "Upon my word, madam, you are incorrigible; it is lucky for me that I lost to-night, or I should have been still where I was; and you, Mrs. Virtue, where would you have been?" The young wife made no murmur at the cruel restraint upon her arm, as he held it with a grasp of iron, but all she could summon of voice she employed in entreaty. "Speak not so loud I beseech you, sir. You know I am warranted in what I do, that my conduct is irreproachable." "And I know, too, that your conduct compromises me," he replied, with bare-faced effrontery. Day and night is madam scouring the country; a pretty appearance it has, truly! and she gives herself airs because I choose to forbid it!" "I wish not to anger you, sir; but I entreat! something has happened that I cannot understand, and which gives me the greatest uneasiness; this, whatever it be, it is my duty to discover. I have a right to interest myself in these circunstances, and I ask nothing unreasonable when I request you to let me go where my duty places me!" "A virtuous woman's place is in her husband's house," returned the wretch; and dragging her roughly across the hall, he pushed her towards the staircase. Mauricette, who feared more than anything else in the world a discovery that would compromise Rosemadoc, stifled the murmur of indignation which rose to her lips, as she had before suppressed the cry of anguish caused by corporeal pain; and, preceding Sauvegrain, she ascended the stairs with as much submission as if she had been in reality a criminal wife torn reluctantly from a lover's presence and conducted home by an outraged husband. When she reached a sitting room on the first floor, where she had left her night lamp, she turned towards Sauvegrain, who had followed, pouring forth the vilest abuse against her, well satisfied to have encountered some one upon whom to vent his ill-humour, and the spleen accumulated during his unsuccessful evening. "Sir," said Mauricette to him, “ you can have neither courage nor compassion in you thus to take advantage of the painful position an error in a name alone has placed me in, and which I am unable to escape from, except by perilling the existence of all that is dearest to me!" "Well done, madam! I admire your reasoning, truly," returned Sauvegrain, fixing an insolent gaze upon her. "This very painful position you stand in, as you choose to say, pray was it my doing that brought you to it? You forget, it seems, that to the best of your father's belief you adore me! It was not I who told him so, but you yourself! Then what have you to complain of? I fathered the lie! And, as it suits my convenience, you must excuse me that I insist upon your actions according with your words! Yes, happen what will, Mauricette, I will find the means to oblige you to act up to what you have declared!" "Oh!" cried the miserable young wife, holding her hands on her forehead to suppress its throbbing; "this cannot last! Oh no, this cannot last!" "That is precisely what I was going to say to you, madain,' returned the monster, with calmer but not less alarming manner. "This cannot last! For you really take upon you to act as if you were quite independent of your husband! Now, understand me, I say: if your father's daughter does not in future take more care of her reputation I shall see to it myself, and I will take care that there exist no more occasion of compromise. This regards myself; my honour is at stake in the eyes of observers; and, on the slightest remark coming to my ears, I shall devise a means of putting a stop to such proceedings for ever!" Mauricette turned deadly pale, and, looking at him, asked, "It is I whom you will sacrifice, is it not?" Sauvegrain grinned; an indefinable expression passed over his countenance; then, resuming his customary sang froid, he opened his gold snuff-box, took a long pinch of finest Spanish snuff, and, with the most degagé air in the world, shook the stray grains from the laced corners of his cravat, while Mauricette, full of the idea of drawing his vengeance from Rosemadoc by fixing it on herself, continued, "Be it so, sir; sacrifice me if you will to that appearance of marital honour you seem so jealous of; deliver me from a position which I had fancied would be easy to bear, but which I find to be more than I am able to sustain. I will not complain. I am well aware that what has passed cannot be recalled. I understand perfectly that you find your footing uncertain whilst my love for him risks some suspicion of the chain that binds me to you. But when I shall be no more, when you have publicly worn widower's mourning for me, then it can be of no more consequence who says you were not my husband; you will have no more cause of enmity against him, since he will not be able to prove anything that could release my memory from your power!" "It gives me pleasure, madam," continued Sauvegrain," to see that you so well understand our respective positions; but why do you talk of dying? If any one stands in my way, I beg to assure you that it is not you!” "But what can my death matter to you, sir, provided you obtain all that you seek from me -my fortune! That death, which I ask of you, you will have no cause to deplore; I take it as a good gift, since my present existence is but a prolonged torture. My strength is wasted in suffering from your unceasing menaces; and ever, when I am not with him, or that I lose sight of you, I tremble lest you should return, stained with his blood! I am ignorant, sir, of how a wife's fortune is to be transmitted to a husband; doubtless you are acquainted with the proper forms required; bring anything of the sort to sign, assure yourself of my portion, and then put me out of the world; it will be a security for his precious life. You could gain no more if you denounced him." "Very true," coolly replied Sauvegrain; “your reasoning of the point is quite correct; but, since this subject is on the tapis, I must inform you that there is a slight obstacle you have not reflected upon." "Heavens!" exclaimed Mauricette, "do you think I have not suffered sufficiently? And do you think that in giving you my fortune, that you may rid me of the load existence is to me, I do not pay dear enough?” "I have had the honour of observing to you," returned the ruffian, without moving a muscle, "that your proposition-odious, mad, and absurd as it is-cannot be accepted, on account of the little obstacle I have just noticed to you, which prevents us coming to a right understanding." She gazed on him with terror; for though his words were not in themselves offensive, there was a something in his look, fixed as it was upon her, that justified the horrible idea which glanced across her brain. Without being well aware of her words, she inquired, "What do you mean?" "What do I mean?" replied he, leaning towards her. "Why, I mean that you are beautiful, Mauricette; that-that I love you! And, by the powers, have I not a right to love you— I, who am your husband?" Mauricette was so overcome that she remained some seconds motionless-almost senseless. "Does this seem so terrible then, Madam? Whose fault is it, I should like to know? Why your own to be sure; have you not thrown yourself in my way? And whether a court gentleman or a road gentleman, one is not made of marble, my beauty. Look into this glass, and tell me if, having got that pretty face always under one's eyes, one may not be excused for taking a fancy to it?" "Sir," replied the young wife, while every limb trembled, "this is a horrible joke, is it not so? In pity assure me you are but in jest!” 66 "By the cross and by the cord, madam, I am not in jest; I am in real earnest: cannot you see that my hatred to him comes from my love to you? I know I promised to respect you, as having only married my name; but I find I promised more than I can perform. When a man crosses my path I kill him; when an oath binds me too hard I break it! I gave you my word— forget it-I take it back again!" "And what do you propose?" demanded Mauricette with dignity, though nearly palsied by terror. "I propose," answered Sauvegrain," that you take counsel of prudence, and that you do not make an uproar in this respectable house by obliging a husband to force a lock, when he finds it turned against him! I propose that you do not put me to the necessity of opposing a repugnance understood by none but ourselves, an arm round her waist. At this her whole being revolted, and, loosing her hold, she almost shrieked, "Dare not to touch me, sir! unhand me !" in bringing forward the witness of your own words to your father. I propose, to conclude, Mauricette," continued he, with cool insolence, "that the proverb so favourable to unlucky gamblers shall now be realized by me, and that as you love him so much, I may not hate him more." So saying, he approached her; while she, retreating towards the windows, could only exclaim, "Oh! horror, horror!" "You mad girl," he cried; "hadn't you better call your father's valet to protect you from your husband? It would be a novel sight, truly!" "Pooh, pooh," returned Sauvegrain, "stuff and nonsense, my beauty! I hold to my bargain, and this is an earnest of it." And the villain pressed his polluted lip against the soft cheeks of the Chevalier's bride. At this hated touch all Mauricette's blood seemed to flow backwards, and, with an effort of nature, she tore herself from his grasp, and took refuge in the further corner of the room, where he was on the point of pursuing her, when his attention again became arrested by what was passing below, and curiosity again drew him to the window: the light had by this time nearly reached the entrance from the garden into the mansion, and the tread of many steps sounded on the gravel-walk beneath; soon voices became audible as they entered the hall; and, though low and cautious were the sounds, Mauricette, to her extreme surprise, distinguished that of her father. Sauvegrain had frequently reflected when he looked on the beautiful young wife of the Chevalier de Rosemadoc-upon the strange role he himself had accepted in their drama of life, but never before had he seriously for a moment contemplated the issue he was now come to; though in a man of such a temperament love was likely to become a ferocious feeling; yet, at the moment when he dared to tell Mauricette he loved her, he really did love her. Thus a new climax of terror presented itself to her, even worse than" all which had gone before it either way, fatal to her peace for ever! She turned a look of supplication toward her persecutor, such as a wounded dove might raise to implore life from her destroyer. But, seeing at a glance that he, before whom she stood, was equally dead to honour, feeling, or pity, she suddenly threw open the window, and would have thrown herself out; but it needed only a stride to Sauvegrain, who at once comprehended the movement, to arrest the moment of suicide. "Take care what you do," said he; "that is not the way to save him; for, if you die, I will have revenge; his life shall pay for yours, or your conduct save him." Poor Mauricette! even death would not be his escape. She clasped her hands, and with an accent of deep despair exclaimed, "Oh, my God! hast thou then abandoned me?" At the same instant streamed through a large window, which overlooked the garden, a ray of light apparently approaching the house, and which could not fail of being equally visible to the tyrant and his victim. Great was the astonishment of both, as M. Fauvel's nocturnal visits to the pavilion were unknown in the family. Mauricette at first welcomed the appearance as a providential deliverance sent in her moment of distress. As for Sauvegrain, his first impression was that the Chevalier de Rosemadoc had thus ventured in order to see his wife; and the terrible ferocity that sounded in the muttered words, "If it should be he!" caused such an extreme emotion in Mauricette, that, unconscious of her action, she clasped the ruffian's arm with both hands, and, "Oh! spare himspare him! mercy-mercy!" burst in suffocating accents from her lips. Every feeling was momentarily swallowed up in fear for the life of her husband; and she was only aware of her own movement, when the wretch attempted to pass "What the deuce!" exclaimed Sauvegrain, it seems we have an 'At home' to-night. I trust, madam, you will find it convenient to recover your looks a little, as any of these gentry coming in at this moment might perhaps take it into their heads that we are not a happy couple! And should your father ask foolish questions, you best know what would be the consequences of letting him behind the curtain.'' "Yes, sir," replied the agitated girl, “I will try to compose myself; the world must be deceived into the belief that I am happy! I must hide my wretchedness!" And she bent her steps towards the door. "Permit me to conduct you," returned he, attempting to take her hand, which, with a gesture of abhorrence, she instantly withdrew. "As you please, my beauty," said Sauvegrain ; "but remember, I shall knock at your door presently, and you will find it better not to weary my patience, nor oblige me to call your father and the servants from their repose." The miserable young wife regained her chamber in a state of mind bordering on distraction; fear of the scandalous scene he had menaced held her hand at the instant she was going to turn the key to which she nightly committed the protection of her door; nay, more, she even left that door gently ajar, so that the slightest pressure from without would make it immediately yield. But though Mauricette remained thus without resistance against Sauvegrain's threatened attempts, she remained not without weapons, and above all-resolution! She threw herself, dressed as she was, into a low arm-chair, determined to pass the night there, and having penned these few lines on a sheet of paper--“I die because I will not sully my fidelity as a wife! I leave all I possess to him whose name I bear," she laid a knife on the writing paper which contained this her last will and testament, and waited in a state of anxious suspense which would be difficult to imagine even, much more describe. Mauricette had scarcely quitted the room in which she had left Sauvegrain, before Honoré Fauvel, accompanied by his guests, entered it. The dull and doubtful light exhibited by the night-lamp was so little aided by that which M. Fauvel carried, that it was impossible to distinguish clearly the features at a few paces distance. "Who is here?" demanded the master of the mansion, astonished at finding the room tenanted at this late hour of the night. The ruffian instantly answered, "I am here, sir; you have no cause for fear." Fauvel, reassured, thus addressed him :"These gentlemen, sir, must remain concealed here till morning. The discretion of my old servants is well known to me; so I need not, as you say, fear for my friends, since they are under my protection and your secresy." The Chevalier de Rosemadoc looked with curiosity at the person thus addressed; but, through the obscurity did not recognize Sauvegrain, whose eyes, however, accustomed for the last half-hour to the dull gleam, needed no straining to distinguish from amongst the other forms that of Mauricette's real husband. (To be continued.) SONG.-WOMAN'S DEVOTION. Farewell! farewell! The die is cast: This bitter parting is our last. By all these quivering sighs which start Up from the life-pulse of my heart, By all the burning tears which roll In solemn anguish from my soul, By the dull languor of my brain, I know we shall not meet again! Yet, O beloved one! though my woe Yea, I could be the veriest slave, To tread on-if trod on by thee!" But be thou happy: if that woe A. E. S. LINES. It is thy birthday! and the first month of the year And thus, in life, when tears bedim our eyes, We look for sunshine in the coming hours! Should, in this life of mingled joy and care, Thy present by some grief be rendered sad, Let sweet Hope lead thee to her regions fair, And show thee visions which will make thee glad. She'll tell thee that thy future lot will be Years-many years of peaceful happiness; That with thy love a faithful one thou❜lt bless, And be beloved again with all sincerity. Oh! may all this-and more than this-be thine! That when in after-years thought steals o'er thee, And thou recall'st the pleasures infantine, The sports of childhood, the felicity LIZZIE W. SOUTHEY'S LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE. (Continued from page 234.) Whether he traced historic truth with zeal, WORDSWORTH.-Inscription for a monument to Southey. Conscious, not vain, of his distinguished talents, and animated by an undying love of literature and independent industry, Southey became "a settled dweller among the mountains of Cumberland," his indefatigable pen supplying his young wife and rising family with the necessaries and modest comforts of existence, while he, fortunately for himself and for his readers, found "his highest pleasure and recreation in the very pursuits necessary for earning his daily bread." The career of many celebrated scholars has been chequered, and their private happiness and public reputation marred, by eccentricities which were once absurdly palliated and defended as inseparable from intellectual superiority. Strange self-me." delusion, and the more to be lamented since thousands ape and exaggerate the errors, while few can emulate the merits of a man of genius! "There is no royal road to mathematics !" exclaimed a philosopher to an Egyptian sovereign, who desired the honours while he shrunk from the labours of the geometrician. May we in our turn affectionately admonish our young readers that there is no royal road to distinguished excellence of any kind. Alike in letters, science, statesmanship, and the less dazzling but all-important duties of our daily lives, work must be performed, difficulties vanquished, and the palm achieved, if it be achieved at all, by the personal exertions of every aspirant, since although unquestionably aptitude for peculiar studies is possessed by different individuals in widely different degrees, the general rule re-for money, and for nothing else." mains unaltered and unalterable, "C'est la patience cherche et le genie trouve." An extract from a letter written in 1806 by Southey affords an interesting illustration of this principle: have a good substantial theory to prove that it must; for as a man who walks much requires to sit down and rest himself, so does the brain, if it be the part most worked, require its repose. Well, after tea, I go to poetry, and correct and revise and copy till I and this is my life-which if it be not a very merry am tired, and then turn to anything else till supper; one, is yet as happy as heart would wish. At least I should think so if I had not once been happier, and I do think so except when that recollection comes upon me; and then when I cease to be cheerful, it is only to become contemplative to feel, at times, a wish that I was in that state of existence which passes not away; and this always ends in a new impulse to proceed, that I may leave some desirable monument and some efficient good behind "My actions are as regular as St. Dunstan's quarter-boys. Three pages of history after breakfast (equivalent to five in small quarto printing); then to transcribe and copy for the press, or to make my selections and biographies, or what else suits my humour, till dinner-time; from dinner till tea I read, write letters, see the newspaper, and very often ndulge in a siesta, for sleep agrees with me, and I Poor, but ever liberal of his hard-earned pit- "I will seek more various employment with the magazines, and scribble verses for the newspapers. As long as I can keep half my time for labours worthy of myself, I shall not feel debased by sacrificing the other, however unworthily it may be employed. **** I can command an income fully equal to all my wants, whenever I choose to write The death of Pitt, and the accession of the short-lived Whig ministry, usually in derision characterized as "All the talents," opened to Southey the cherished prospect of pursuing his historical researches at Lisbon. A secretaryship of the Legation, or the consulship, had been asked for him, and that most amiable of noblemen and liberal and enlightened patron of Portuguese and Spanish literature, the late Lord Holland, engaged to back the application. Hopeful, but by no means sanguine, he disdained to sink the man of letters in the craving |