yond what even his youth could have accom- | ants had supposed, in the confusion of Mr. Glenplished, bewildered by the enormous and unex- ford's affairs, solely entrusted to an inexperienced pected demands made on him, and above all, over-girl, their practices would not be discovered. All come by a reverse too great and sudden for his was, however, clearly settled, the offenders fully mind, (weakened by age and infirmities,) to bear, exposed; and it was proved that the two sisters Mr. Glenford sunk under the blow, leaving all in would enjoy a neat and ample competence. Imutter confusion; which Constance alone was to re-mediately after her uncle's death, Mr. Walton duce to order.

had, at the request of Constance, written to inform Edward of the sad news, (but without mentioning their pecuniary embarrassments;) and to request

was kindly aided by Mr. Walton and his family. As Edward was then travelling in Europe, it was uncertain when any letters could reach him.

After the first passionate grief was over, and she had paid the last sad duty to him who had been her second father, Constance wasted no time in fruit-him not to feel any anxiety on her account, as she less lamentations at the task which lay before her. As usual, the visits of condolence were paid, and the orphan received numerous indefinite proffers of assistance. But the heiress was an heiress no Mr. Walton had heard from his brother, who longer; and those who had formerly praised the was on his way from Germany, and intended to liberal hospitality of the uncle, now spoke of his visit them in Virginia. He arrived, and was imprudent extravagance, and complained bitterly fondly welcomed. With sisterly kindness he was at the prospect of a girl nursed in luxury like received by Constance at his brother's house; and Constance, being obliged to live with her sister, as he admired her exquisite beauty now in its as a dependant in the family of some charitable bloom, and felt that her noble mind and heart friend. But they knew little of Constance Wood-equalled, if not surpassed her rare loveliness, he burn, who supposed that she would ever consent to could not avoid again wishing that the fate of so be dependent on any one. She thanked those few pure a being might be united to his own. Such who really showed themselves her friends, but de-a wish, however, never escaped his lips; he perclined all offers except those of advice. She applied to Mr. Walton, an elder brother of her former admirer, and whose family had ever been her friends. | He was an able lawyer, and him she consulted on all subjects relative to her uncle's property. Day after day found her poring over deeds and intricate accounts; and melancholy indeed was her employment, when she discovered that it was doubtful if more than a bare maintenance would remain to her after all demands had been satisfied, according to her request, with scrupulous integrity.

It was natural that Constance should deeply regret this circumstance, but she braced herself for the trial. "By my own earnings," said she to Rose, who wept bitterly at the news, "will I obtain a subsistence. The education I have received I will now employ. There are many parents around us who will rejoice at sending their children to be my pupils; our name and family are in themselves too honorable to fear that they can ever be degraded by honest industry. Our reverse has already shown us how few in the world are real friends. Those who are, will still equally respect us even though I may give instruction; and for those who are not, my dear Rose, that mind must indeed be weak which sets a value upon their attentions. The bleak prospect of a governess, is not, I own, very gratifying, but any sacrifice is better than being dependent."

ceived that it was vain to hope; he saw that she esteemed him as a friend,―he determined to prove that he could be a sincere one. He exerted himself with fraternal kindness to contribute to her comfort, and had it not been for the severe loss which they had experienced in the death of their oldest friend, the happiness of that little circle would indeed have been without a cloud.

CHAPTER VIII.

He faded; but so calm and meek,
So softly worn, so sweetly weak,
So tearless, yet so tender-kind,
And grieved for those he left behind,
With all the while a cheek whose bloom
Was as a mockery of the tomb;
An eye of most transparent light,
That almost made the dungeon bright;
And not a word of murmur-not

A groan o'er his untimely lot,

And then the sighs he would suppress
Of fainting nature's feebleness,
More slowly drawn-grew less and less!

Вугов.

But a dear object soon called for all the attention of Constance-her sister Rose, whose health from infancy had been a source of painful solicitude; and at length that remorseless fiend consumption, who preys upon the loveliest of AmeriOwing, however, to the indefatigable exertions ca's daughters, marked her for his own. How of Mr. Walton, seconded by those of Constance bitterly did poor Constance weep over the gradual herself, this project was never executed. By decay of this, her beloved mother's last legacy— diligent investigation he found that many debts the sweet solace that she had looked for in after had been shamelessly exaggerated, and many de-years-the dearest and the only tie which she now mands put forth without just right, as the claim- possessed! Every effort of medical science was used

CHAPTER IX.

*

Heaven and yourself had part in this fair maid;
Now Heaven hath all!

Shakspeare.

to save her, and the hope of change of climate was | be to deprive her sister of many gratifications, and advised. The society of Mr. Walton's wife and this thought at once decided her.-Wherever she family, among whom was Alfred, rendered their went, she saw him courted and admired, but Rose's visit to a more southern state comparatively de- danger made her forget even him! lightful, and at times the delusive glow of health which bloomed upon her sister's cheek, would make Constance fondly hope that she would recover. But each day that hope grew less. After an easy journey, they returned home, where for many months they remained. But at length the last forlorn hope was tendered-Italy, that refuge, and often grave for the dying invalid. It was hoped that the interest arising from the contemplation of scenery, inhabitants, customs, differing from her own, might prove as beneficial as the air itself.-Previous to her departure, Constance entrusted to Mr. Walton's care all those objects of affection which she left behind. A family with whom her uncle had been intimate were about taking their departure for Italy. Under their protection Constance went with her sister, exiled from her home, like many other victims of consumption, to die in a foreign land. Sincere prayers for their welfare, "not loud, but deep," accompanied them on their way, and each friend she left blessed her as she departed.

As Rose grew nearer her end, her sole unceasing prayer was to return home, to visit the scenes of her childhood, and there to breathe her last; and as she had ceased to derive benefit from her present long sojourn, they determined to gratify her, as the denial of this, her only request, seemed to render her miserable. Edward was their constant and assiduous companion. From different sources he had heard of the firm conduct of Constance at her uncle's death, and had repeatedly expressed his regret that she had refused to confide in him. He saw that although she was still his friend, she no longer felt towards him as she had once felt; and his respect for her and his own pride prevented him from again subjecting himself to what he felt assured would be a refusal. He took a kind and friendly leave of her, anxiously hoping to meet them all, as soon as his affairs would permit, in happiness and health in their native home.

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Italy, bright, beautiful Italy was visited; and each moment, each thought of the life of Constance was employed to administer to her sister's happiness. Absorbed in her affection for the poor, They had approached the end of their voyage, fading flower, all other thoughts seemed dead and in a few hours they hoped to reach the shore. within her. When, however, her friends in- Rose, who was now sinking hourly, lay within formed her that Edward Delancy was in the her sister's arms, propped up by cushions on the neighborhood and would soon visit them, she felt deck. Her friends had withdrawn to a slight disagitated and alarmed. After a short, but rigorous tance. Now and then an inarticulate moan would discipline of her heart, she became composed; and break from Rose's lips, yet visibly she struggled when Delancy approached, she gave her hand with to repress it. The pious resignation, the fortitude friendly eagerness, and met him with a firm step of that innocent girl, her constant endeavors to and an unhesitating welcome. For a moment appear cheerful, her reluctance to give pain or Edward looked with surprise at her care-worn trouble, and the meek, consoling words which she face, which nights of ceaseless watching by her ever and anon addressed to those around her, only sister's couch had robbed of its brilliancy; then, made her still dearer to her sister, while they inattempting to speak as he grasped her hand, he creased the agony that sister felt at the thought felt that utterance was impossible, and dropping "of this last loss, of all the most." Silently the her hand, turned to the window which an Italian tears flowed, but Constance did not attempt to sunset was gilding with its usual splendor-a notice them, lest they should excite the observatype of the fair and virtuous girl who was daily tion of her sister. But Rose, glancing her eye sinking in unclouded innocence to the grave. Soon upwards, saw them, and clasping her arms more Edward mastered his emotion and returned. He closely around the neck of Constance, said, "Do spoke to Constance on the all-engrossing theme, not weep, dear Constance,-do not weep for me her sister's health; he used every means to cheer I am dying, it is true; but I am going to a happy and to console, and formed a thousand plans for place of rest, where sorrow and tears cannot affording amusement to the invalid and her almost come. I once did think that it was hard for one exhausted nurse. This was the trial which Con- so young to go to the cold grave; but long sufferstance had feared. She dreaded that, being con- ing has made me think otherwise. It will be a tinually in his society, fascinated by the spells of blessing for me to be taken from this world, where his intellect, she might again have the same strug-I feel nought but pain, and cause grief to those gle to undergo. To deny herself his presence, would around me. I only grieve to leave you, sweet

VOL. IV.-23

*

She heard again and frequently of Delancy. He had hitherto dwelt in Europe, but his present plan was to return to his native land. He still strode onward towards the goal of fame. Time had po

scoffing wildness, a skeptic daring in his theories, which made the thoughtful pause and weigh his opinions ere they rested faith in them; and while they could not avoid admiring the expansive mind of the author, grieved that it wanted the best and only sure foundation of true greatness, and dreaded the power which his intellect gave him in the "empire of mind." To enjoy for a time repose and leisure, were his objects in revisiting America. He arrived; and wherever he went, he was the object of curiosity and admiration.

Constance, who have been a mother to me. Comfort yourself with that thought, my sister! When I am gone, you will have no little Rose to comfort you, but you will marry-do not shake your head so mournfully, sister-you will marry some wor-lished the rich gems of his mind, but there was a thy man who will love you as you deserve to be loved, but not more dearly than your own poor little sister has always loved you, Constance. * Sister, draw this cloak more closely round me; it is growing cold. Look, Constance, there is our own dear land stretched out before us, and the sun is going to rest,-like me,—and its beams are shining so brightly on the waters that dance around us!-I feel so calm and happy!-Sister, repeat with me the first prayer that mother taught you-for see, she is looking at us both, and smiling so sweetly-Bless you, dear sister-Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be-thy name.""-And thus, with her first innocent prayer upon her lips, she nestled her head in her sister's bosom, and gently closed her eyes. Fearful of disturbing her, Constance remained motionless. But at length the face grew paler, the faint breathing ceased;-in sight of that home she had sighed for-in the arms of the sister whom she loved, the pure spirit had fled from its earthly abode, and "poor little Rose" was dead!

Thus at twenty six years of age, Constance was emphatically alone in the world, without a single relative. Still she had friends who loved and respected her. Immediately on her arrival, they hastened to assuage her grief.

At the time of his arrival in New York, Constance was absent from that city on a visit to a friend; but she heard of his welcome in every circle, and of his subsequent visit to the country residence of a family in the neighborhood of her present abode. He immediately visited her, and while he received her heartfelt congratulations on his success, and in his turn conversed with kind sympathy respecting her sister's death, he felt that had he any sacred trust to confide, Constance was the friend on whom he might rely. As companions from infancy, reared in the same dwelling, they were regarded by their acquaintances in the light almost of brother and sister. Constance saw him now standing on the highest pinnacle to which he could aspire; but though each sentiment he uttered in society was like a sparkling gem,—though he participated in every species of gaiety, yet there were now and then perceptible a restlessness in his expressions, and a transient gloom upon his countenance, which suggested the idea that his mind was not entirely at ease.

It was evening-a bright, lovely, summer's evening: the dwelling of Constance's friend, (a villa more resembling an Italian palace, than the retreat of a republican citizen,) was illuminated with unusual splendor. The ball-room was thronged with gay and beautiful faces, and the present, the joyous, cloudless present, alone occupied each heart.

During four ensuing years, she lived as secluded as possible, entering into society only so far as to avoid being a restraint upon her friends. Nor did she pass those years without admirers; but all were alike rejected. She had once loved deeply, earnestly, with her whole soul, and her first The fete was given in honor of the marriage of bright vision had passed away for ever. Since Alfred Walton with a lovely, amiable girl, who that hour, the constant succession of incidents, had been a playmate of Constance, who sincerely, eventful and engrossing, which had marked the gratefully rejoiced in this union. She at last beheld last few years of her life, had so entirely occupied two beings whom she equally esteemed, made every thought and feeling, that she had not expe- happy in each other; and she felt, as she offered rienced even a wish to enlarge her sphere of affec- her hearty wishes for their welfare, that this was tion. When competitors for her heart appeared, one of the few occasions in life when such conshe saw that all were far inferior to the ideal gratulations could be offered without the least image which her soul had cherished; and when shade of doubt or fear to cloud the bright hopes she reflected how she had once been deceived, she which they expressed.-Edward and Constance feared to hazard the certain content which was were present, the cynosure of all that brilliant fesnow hers, for the chance of comparative misery.tival. For a short time during the evening, the

lovely children of Mr. Maynard were indulged by a participation in the general gaiety. One of the guests, reminded by their presence, accidentally remarked the excessive grace of a child, some seven years old, whom Mr. Delancy had brought with him from Europe. This excited surprise; whereupon Edward related the melancholy situation of the little orphan, whose parents, (his valued friends,) had died in Switzerland, leaving their infant Laura to his care. The conversation then turned to other topics.

Morning broke in upon the revellers, and slowly they departed. Constance, though at this late, or rather early hour, was still buoyant and untiring, and as the last guest bade her adieu, she wished the family good night, and with a light step and heart, retired to rest.

CHAPTER XI.

Surely a sense of our mortality,

A consciousness how soon we shall be gone ;
Or, if we linger,--but a few short years--
How sure to look upon our brother's grave,
Should of itself incline to pity and to love!

Rogers.

"I thank you most sincerely; but, Constance, promise me this: If I should die, or should any ill befall me, I beseech you, by the recollection of that love-pardon me-that friendship which you once felt, if it have any weight, promise me that you will be a mother to that child-that you will rear her in virtue and honor, and make her like yourself-all that woman can be!"

"I do promise it, Edward, solemnly: the recollection of which you speak has weight; it is idle in you to doubt it. Your happiness is, and will ever be, dear to me. I solemnly pledge you my word, to be a mother to her. This is worthy of you, Edward."

"Let me thank you from my heart for your promise; it has relieved me from a burthen of anxious dread. And now," added he, departing from the subject as abruptly as he had introduced it," when do you intend to return home?"

Three days after this visit, as the family of Mr. Maynard, with Constance, were wandering over a part of the grounds which commanded a view of the road, they perceived a gentleman on horseback riding towards the mansion, and soon recognised Mr. Delancy. He saw them, and waving his hat, spurred his horse towards them. By leaping a low hedge which he was approaching, more than half the distance could be avoided. The moment Mr.

On the following day, Edward called at the mansion; the drawing-room was filled with guests. One by one they took their leave, but still be lingered. The family dispersed to their Maynard saw Delancy turning towards the hedge, several amusements and occupations; when, after with an exclamation of horror, he endeavored by a few moments' conversation with Constance, Ed-signs and shouts, to forbid his proceeding: but it ward abruptly said: "Do you remember, Miss was too late; ere a word could be uttered, the leap Woodburn, the remarks casually made last night | had been taken. For the purpose of some improveconcerning my little ward, Laura Seaforth? I most ments, within the last two days, an excavation of earnestly wish for your advice on the subject of her education. To whom can I intrust it? Accomplishments she can easily acquire; but can I rely upon an uninterested stranger to instil into her mind the lessons of fortitude and endurance which she must learn, to enable her to combat with the world?"

immense depth had been made immediately within the hedge. With culpable, and as it proved, fatal neglect, no notice or warning had been placed there; and as the circumstance of the alteration had been previously unknown to Mr. Maynard, he had been unable to remedy the carelessness of the workmen. The leap was within view of the party as

"Has she no relatives, no friends, who might sembled in the garden. Before their eyes, the rider undertake the charge?"

"No, none; she is alone."

"Could you be induced to part with her to." "Oh! no, no! While I live she remains with me. As a father I will watch over and protect her. It will be but a poor atonement for a poor proof of the affection I bore to her parents."

lay extended beneath his horse in the deep cavity. Shrieks of horror at the fearful catastrophe, burst from the lips of all, save Constance. The gentlemen hastened to render assistance. The ladies remained, uttering loud ejaculations of pity or of fear,-when suddenly one of them turned to Constance, wondering at her silence. She was still seated, leaning against a tree; she spoke not: she had fainted! While they were engaged in restoring her to herself, the "Her mother! No! impossible! I-I believe wounded man was brought to the house; and as not. But pray answer the question I have asked." they conveyed him to the nearest room, each move"I cannot do that hastily. So much depends on ment, however slight, however careful, extorted a the choice of a person who is to be the guardian groan of such fearful agony that it seemed as if and instructress of a child like her, that I must re-death would follow. His right arm was broken, but flect. But you shall know soon,-very soon." the deepest injury appeared to be internal. Anx

"It is strange that, having known you so long, her name, that of your friend, should be so unfamiliar to me. Did I know her mother?”

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CHAPTER XII.

How shocking must thy summons be, O Death!
To him that is at ease in his possessions;
Who, counting on long years of pleasure here,
Is quite unfurnished for that world to come.

Many and sharp the numerous ills
Inwoven with our frame;

More pointed still we make ourselves,

Regret, remorse, and shame.

Blair.

Burns.

The following day, Edward seemed hovering betwixt life and death. Towards midnight, Con

iously, breathlessly, they awaited the arrival of the surgeon. He came. The result of his examination was indeed mournful-the internal injuries which Edward had received, left a hope of his recovery, but with the sad expectation of his being a helpless, maimed invalid. Constance having in some degree subdued all outward signs of emotion, had earnestly requested to see him, and at length succeeded in effecting her object. She entered the room, which was partly darkened-but still she could distinctly see the couch and its almost insensible occupant. His eyes were closed; his faint and labored breathing, and the convulsive clutch-stance, who had continued for some time restlessly ing of the bed by his uninjured hand, alone gave watching in the adjoining room, heard Delancy's token that he lived. The attendants who were in inarticulate murmurings-and her own name utthe room were engaged in various employments. tered in agony. She could not resist the impulse, Constance approached the bed unheeded. She and noiselessly she stole into the room. The nurse, thought of him—her childhood's friend, who had inured to these scenes of misery, and overcome by been the first love of her young heart-whose ac- fatigue, sat sleeping in a chair near the door. Mr. quirements were the objects of her admiration,- Maynard, who had never relinquished his station the thought of what he had been, and what he now by the sufferer's side, seeing Constance approach, appeared, overcame her. She clasped her hands advanced to prevent her. He besought her earin agony, while tears fell rapidly from her eyes nestly to retire. Firmly she denied him, and unmarked; she sunk on her knees, burying her seated herself beside him. Thus passed a fearful face in the folds of the drapery, and with her night of watching. Who that has not seen the hands joined over her brow, she prayed in her human frame writhing under an attack of insaheart for him by whom she knelt. As these en-nity, and witnessed the superhuman strength with treaties arose from each gushing fountain of her which the paroxysm endows its victims,—who soul, her grief was mitigated; she trusted in the that has not heard the wanderings of their minds— mercy of that Being in whose power are life and the repetition of each expression or sentiment which death. With feelings subdued and grateful, she they, when rational, admired,—the noble and poarose from the posture in which she had sunk in etical thoughts which they often utter,—the wild despair. She turned towards the surgeon, and by snatches of songs or prayers which they repeather apparent calmness, obtained, in answer to her the intense agony which they express at the faninquiries, a true and undisguised account which cied perils they endure or witness in imagination,— she sought, yet dreaded to hear. The bodily in- and worse than these, the unjust hatred, the inflictions with which Delancy was threatened, she gratitude and malignity, and often the profanity trusted he could endure;—but what horror was and even blasphemy which are then frequently hers, when she was informed that the ruin of his given vent to, by even a virtuous mind,—who, mind might ensue! that has not witnessed all this, can form an adequate estimate of its horror! For the first time, Constance beheld this; and but too often, words met her ear, whose import made her shudder. The declarations of insanity are, it is true, frequently without foundation; yet, sometimes, they lay bare the inner recesses of the heart: and those sacrilegious thoughts, which, in life's ordinary course, only gleam forth suddenly and for a moment, blaze out with scorching, withering power in madness. Morning gloomily began to dawn, and the streaks of sickly, yellow light which forced their way into the apartment, only added to the apparent desolation. The lamps were flickering dimly, and by the bedside the two watchers still sat, hoping even in despair. Suddenly Delancy seemed writhing in torture, as, with dreadful imprecations, he called for assistance--pointing, amidst the distant darkness, at some object which appeared to his disordered brain. With a loud shriek, and with a madman's strength, dashing

The gradual decay which age and time cause in the human frame, and which death sends as his warning precursors, it is true, excite melancholy and compassion. But there cannot be in nature, an object so appalling, so humiliating, so crushing to the heart, as the contemplation of the strong man's mind struck down in the plenitude of its wisdom!" In fear and trembling" Constance retired to her apartment. The hours passed in sleepless anxiety. And as she looked forth on the starry and cloudless night, on the wonders and glory of the heavens,-and then looked within, at the struggles of despair, of hope-of misery and resignation, she felt that her lot in life indeed exemplified the truth of her mother's precept, that though the world, amidst pleasure and happiness contains fearful wo, there is still one blessed asylum where " mercy and truth have met together--where righteousness and peace have kissed each other."