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my late behaviour, imputing it only to miserable health and broken nerves. He was surprised at this return of affection, and admitted that he had suffered deeply, and felt my injustice. He imputed this change in me to the discovery I had made of his state of health. As the pledge of our reconciliation, I exacted a promise that he would obey the physician, and repair to the Brunnens of Naussau. He proposed that I should accompany him. I entreated that this should not be a stipulation. My mind, I said, had need of entire repose. I wished to change the scene and air, but could not endure a watering-place. On the contrary, it was my wish, if he would consent to it, to spend some time in travel, especially in those countries with which we were so intimately and unhappily connected, but which he was prohibited from entering, Hungary and Poland.

"To this natural desire my husband made no objection; he believed, indeed, that such a change would tend to restore me to the peace I had lost.

"Finally, we both set out and separated in Germany. I had arranged to take a travelling servant from thence, and, after I parted from Waldemar, found an excuse for parting also with my female attendant, and taking one who was quite a stranger to me. I then hastened to the banker's where my money was lodged. Drawing out a part of it, I purchased a small annuity under an assumed name, and leaving the residue so that it could be reclaimed by Waldemar, I set forth on my projected tour. I wrote often to Waldemar, and received letters from him, the tone of which, far from that of an assumed affection, was truly consolatory to my heart. It told me that I was understood, that I was appreciated, that I was pitied. I felt that, so far as depended on himself, Waldemar would be a still better husband to me for the time to come. But this conviction did not move me, my resolution was taken; his kindness, his goodness, only gave me fresh strength to perform it. I resolved that he should be happy. Once beyond the frontier of Poland, my letters conveyed to him repeated complaints of my still failing health.

This, indeed, was true; and a severe illness had nearly accomplished my purpose without a falsehood. But I soon after carried that purpose into effect.

"I easily got a person of my acquaintance, on some trifling excuse, to write a letter of my dictation, as if to acquaint one of my friends with the event of his wife's death; the person who wrote it neither knowing who it was to, nor suspecting that I was myself the wife whose death I described. I got another to direct it to Waldemar, and carried it myself to the post. The letter contained an enclosure in my own writing-a few lines, as if written before my death, affectionately addressed both to him and Rosa, conveying to them jointly the residue of my property, but without the least allusion to the connexion that was to subsist between them; they expressed only the resignation with which I quitted for ever all I had loved or known.

"This was true; my sacrifice was complete; I was dead to the world. There was no chance of detection. Waldemar could never discover, even were he disposed to seek it, the place of my tomb; for it was in Poland, his unhappy land. Nearly two years have passed since my death was made known; Waldemar has been the most of that time a widower, but was his heart so? Yet sure I am he gave me some tears, and they were honest ones.

"The change in my appearance, my widow's dress and assumed name, saved me from detection. I thought I might reside with safety in a retired part of Germany, my native land. It was while on my way to the retreat I had selected, that, hearing of the charming seclusion of the baths of Rippoldsau, I was tempted to seek relief from its valuable waters. Could I have imagined an idea so wild as that Waldemar my husband, with his lovely and adored bride, would have chosen to pass their honeymoon in the same retreat?

"I shall henceforth be calm. Suspense is worse than certainty-my sacrifice is accepted-he is happy-I have not died in vain!"

It would be useless to record here the observations I made when at last permitted to speak. Argument, indeed, was now useless with the un

happy victim of her own sensibility and error. To induce her to look to another world for the happiness which she had, perhaps wilfully, lost in this was all my words, few and feeble as they were, aimed to do. The next morning I went to her chamber to see how she had passed the night. It was locked, and I knocked without obtaining an answer. Believing that, like many others who expose their hearts to their fellow-creatures, she had now repented of having done so, and shrunk from seeing me, I retired, intending after the table-d'hôte, at which I knew she would not appear, again to make inquiries for her. But at that table I heard a singular tale related, and saw Rosa listening to it with the sweet face of a pitying angel.

The poor widow lady, it was said, who had been taken ill at dinner the day before, had the same evening been distressingly summoned to her home. She was a most afflicted creature; her husband's sudden death had plunged her into such a state of grief that she was induced to come to Rippoldsau to try the "cure," leaving her children to the care of a nurse, who, to avoid being troubled by her charge, placed them all on a table while she was otherwise engaged. Endeavouring to amuse themselves there at play, the others had rolled the youngest off the table, and if not actually dead when the express for its mother arrived, it was certain that it would not be alive when she reached her home.

Stories, unlike stones, gather by moving! Perhaps seme nearly incoherent expressions had escaped this unfortunate woman in her distress, and amid the bustle of a sudden departure, relating to her husband and her child, and these being ill understood by the wondering mädchen, were related to another and another,

until, as the story passed on through the community it assumed its present connected form; or another solution of it crossed my mind, but I did not wish to believe it. Was it possible she might have herself given rise to it by making a somewhat similar excuse for her abrupt departure? Only two particulars, as likely to be facts, I further understood; namely, that she had not gone to rest that night, and set off at four o'clock in the morning.

In my long and solitary walks
through the pine-covered mountains
that border on the Black Forest, I
had usually found them left to my-
self; but now I was never sure of
being there alone. Many a time I
saw the seat to which I was hasten-
ing already occupied by two happy
creatures-like the Adam and Eve
of my late lonely paradise, I beheld
their bright forms glancing amid the
dark trees, and starting forth in life
and joy from the wild thickets, or
bending their beamy countenances
over the mountain-stream; I heard
the music of their happy voices, I
felt the sunshine of their joyful
faces beam upon my own heart, and,
away from all other sights and
sounds, I could have said the world
is full of joy and love, till a sudden
thought overcast its shade, and I
felt the reflection of their happiness
no longer! I had often said to my-
self, What a sweet spot is Rippoldsau
to pass a honeymoon! I thought
so now again, while these two,
doubtless, shared the thought and
echoed the words; but I shuddered
while I reflected that a word from
me, an unregarded stranger, could
strike away all the sweetness from
that place and time, and cast the
gloom of the shadow of death over
that beautiful and now blushing
check.

SELINA.
Rippoldsau, August 20, 1845.

LOVE, PRESENT AND PAST.

THEY stood in their young beauty where the shade
Of kingly pines a deeper twilight made,-
A girl, whose weeping eyes were downward bent,
A youth, whose whispers love made eloquent.

And as he watch'd her colour come and go,
And saw her tears, half sad, half timid, flow,
And knew her heart was his,-all his, he told
How heaven and earth must change ere he grew cold.

"Lift up those dearest eyes, and let me read
A tale of promise in their light! No need
To bow thy drooping head in sorrow thus,-
Days, months, and years of joy shall come for us!

Mine own! mine own! it is a thought of pride
To know that none in all the world beside
Hath part with me in thy affection-none!
Fear not, I know the blessed prize I've won!

Nay, love, I pray thee weep not! Must I swear
That I am even true as thou art fair?
Come, dearest, turn, and, kneeling at thy feet,
Let me once more mine earnest vows repeat."

She heard him long in silence, and at last
She turn'd to him, as if she strove to cast
Her grief aside; "I need no vows," she said,
"Love such as mine has no mistrustful dread.

I feel all joy departs with thee; no eye
Will ever look upon me lovingly

Till thou return; the grave has closed o'er all
Who would have grieved to see these sad tears fall.

Thou art mine all. It is a fearful thing
To love as I love thee! I can but cling
To one, one only hope,-that time may ne'er
Bring change to thee, to my poor heart despair.

Surely thou wilt but smile when others scorn
Thine own betrothed, the poor and lowly born,
Knowing how great a wealth of love was given
To thee, mine only friend on this side heaven.

Go now, while I am calm.
We two shall meet again!

God knoweth where
Go, with my prayer

Still sounding in thy heart! Go on thy way,
Mine own beloved! God keep thee night and day!"

They parted; years roll'd on before they stood

Once more together, in far other mood

Than when they said farewell; at last he came,
Gay as of old, to all but her the same.

To her, alas! to her those years had brought
A mournful change in aspect and in thought.
There was a stillness in her eye and air
That told of conquer'd passion, long-past care.
Theirs was a sudden meeting, yet it woke
No change in her pale face; and then she spoke
Of that last parting, where the pines were green,
As if her dream of love had never been.

And he, who thought to hear but words of blame,
Laugh'd lightly, and recall'd his boyish flame;
"We must be friends," he cried, "for all the joy
Of that old time when we were girl and boy-"

He stopp'd; for as he spoke, a bitter smile
Pass'd o'er her lips; and o'er his thoughts, the while,
There came remembrance of her love and truth
Before his falsehood blighted her fair youth.

“We never can be friends, for friends should feel
Kind sympathy," she said, "in woe or weal.
My broken trust no time can e'er renew,
I shall be lonely all this long life through.

There was a time when thou and I were one
In hope, in thought, in love; it seem'd that none
E'er loved with deeper earnestness of faith,
Defying change and sorrow, care and death.

There was a time when at thy lightest word
My pulse leap'd wildly and my heart was stirr'd,
Re-echoing the passion of thine own,
Cleaving in this wide world to thee alone.

Then at thy footstep how the red blood came
Flushing my cheek! how at thy very name
I trembled, lest a stranger's eye should see
How wildly my young spirit clung to thee!

I blame thee not, for now my alter'd heart
Is cold, and I am tranquil as thou art;
Nothing remains of that old love of mine,
I have no part in joy or grief of thine.

At times I weep to think such love could be,
And yet have pass'd away like mine for thee;
To think that I can gaze with unchanged brow
On thee,-on thee! as I am gazing now.

At times there come old thoughts across my brain,
Shadows of joy I cannot know again.

Come they to thee? Ah, no! for thou would'st weep
If those wild shadows came to haunt thy sleep.

Surely thou could'st not smile, if e'er to thee
Such visions came as often come to me!
I tremble at their presence, though I know
My heart is dead and cold to all below.

I seem to hear again that blesséd stream,
The music of the pine-tree fills my dream,
Thy hand clasps mine, thy voice is in mine ear,
The voice my waking soul unmoved can hear.

Yea! one by one, past hours of bliss return;
I wake and weep, and then my heart will yearn,
Feeling one hour of love's own smiles and tears
Were better far than these dull, hopeless years.

I do not blame thee now; I said the truth:
My heart is cold and dead, my very youth
Is wither'd with its generous thoughts. Alas!
How changed I am from all that once I was.

At times I see a vision dark and strange-
A woman weeping that thy heart could change!
Loud is the wail of her fierce agony,
Bitter and wild her eager prayer to die.

Oh! if that dreary vision ever cross'd

Thy soul, e'en now, when all our love is lost,
Thou couldst not smile as thou hast smiled to-day,

Of all the crowd most heartless and most gay.

Strange! strange how all are pass'd-love, hope, and grief;
My love than thine scarce truer or less brief!
Strange how I hear thy voice and tremble not,
Even with all the past still unforgot.

I deem'd that grief would dwell with me for aye;
But time roll'd on, and sorrow died away,
And now we meet as strangers meet, and I
Feel nothing of that long-past agony.

We, who once boasted Death should hardly tear
Us two apart, not dreaming we could bear

All that we since have borne, and now can brook;
Thus meeting coldly with unchanging look.

How those who see us meet would laugh to know
That once the passion of thy soul could flow
In burning words to me,-thy beautiful,'-
Me, who am now so spiritless, so dull.

Alas! methinks I would recall again
The cruel past with all its hours of pain,
Rather than be the thing I am,-unmoved
To grief or joy by thee, my once beloved!"

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