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No eye saw Constance that night in her chamber.-No eye witnessed her agony. She had all her life been in one happy dream, from which, even at the acme of enjoyment, she had been suddenly, fearfully awakened to the consciousness of misery. Edward called on the ensuing day; Rose informed him that Constance was too much fatigued from the previous evening, to receive him. She had made a superhuman effort, while subject to the scrutiny of a large assembly, but she knew herself unequal to the task of meeting him so soon

ed; informing the family that he had received news from Europe, which required his absence, and would perhaps detain him for some months.

and the ladies retired to the drawing-room. To succeeded each other rapidly, and Constance was gratify the guests of her relative, Constance ex- the life, the light of all. So inspired, so animated erted herself to the utmost; her vivacity and ele- was her manner, she might have served as an illusgance charmed all around her. They expressed tration of the Pythoness revealing the oracles of her a wish to inspect some glorious triumphs of the god; but the resemblance went still further: the artist's skill, which Edward had brought from struggle of giving utterance to those oracles, often Europe. Constance had them intrusted to her cost the priestess her life. That evening, which care. Playfully protesting that no hand save her to her seemed eternal, at last ended. The guests own should be permitted to touch the treasures, departed. Edward was the last to linger; and as she flew down stairs to the apartment adjoining he pressed her hand, murmuring "good night," that in which they had dined. She opened the the tremulousness, the coldness of that hand starlibrary, and the search occupied her some mo- tled him. He gazed in her face. Its expression, ments. Scarcely had she commenced, when she wild and varying, was still so gay and beautiful, heard the rich tones of Edward's voice apparently that he treated the circumstance lightly. Months raised in argument. As the sound struck her ear, after, he recalled it with a shudder. she paused; her hand yet supporting the port-folio which she had been seeking. Suddenly she bent forward in an attitude of attention, remaining breathless for an instant. As he continued, a faint cry escaped her, and the volume fell from her hand. Its valuable contents were scattered on the floor before her-she heeded them not: she would have given worlds for the power to move; but spell-bound she stood listening to his words, each syllable being distinctly heard through the thin partition that divided the apartment. At length his voice ceased, and the conversation at home. He withdrew, though manifestly grievchanged. By a violent effort, Constance aroused herself; but how altered was the expression of her face! The object of her love, of her adoration had avowed himself,-nay, triumphantly avowed himself-an Atheist! That being who had hitherto so cautiously concealed from her knowledge all idea of his entertaining such thoughts, had now expressed himself in terms, alas! too plain to be misunderstood She had heard his arguments in favor of his disbelief, and his assertion that those subjects which she revered, were mere fables to keep grovelling minds in subjection, and that the philosopher, the man of science or of intellect was above such childish prejudices. One or two guests, it is true, at first supported him, but even they soon shrunk abashed from his bold asseverations. "Alas! Poor Constance." Footsteps approaching awoke her from her stupor. Suddenly starting, she gained sufficient presence of mind to attempt to collect the scattered drawings, when her sister entered the room, wondering at her protracted absence. The wild and incoherent replies of Constance alarmed Rose. She gently attempted to soothe her sister, and after completing the search which had so fearfully begun, she conducted her to the garden. The cool, mild air, the calm repose of all nature, the stillness of evening, gradually restored her to herself. She returned to the draw- "Miss Woodburn will pardon the hasty, inconing-room, where she found all the guests assem-siderate anxiety of one who looks to her to decide bled. At the sight of Edward she trembled, but his future fate. He trusts that she will not censhe remembered that all eyes were upon her, and sure his abruptness, but Oh, Constance, I pride came to her aid. Never had she looked so cannot address you in a formal phrase. My heart wildly beautiful. Conversation, laughter, music, is now so overflowing with mingled hope and fear,

CHAPTER IV.

I will do

What heaven approves my duty!

Knowles

Mon cœur, peut-il porter, seul et privé d'appui,
Le fardeau des devoirs qu'on m'impose aujourd'hui ?
A ta loi, Dieu puissant, oui, mon ame est rendue,
Mais fais que mon amant s'éloigne de ma vue.
Cher amant! Ce matin l'aurois-je pu prévoir
Que je dusse aujourd'hui redouter de te voir?

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Dieu de tous mes parens, de mon malheureux père,
Que ta voix me conduise, et que ton œil m'eclàire!

Zaire.

On the same evening, Edward called to bid them all farewell. His request to see Constance being again denied, he left a letter which he entreated Rose to deliver. She did so. Constance gave one hasty glance at its contents, and then laid it aside until all the house had retired to rest. When she was quite alone, she drew forth the letter, and read its contents as follows:

that I can scarcely command sufficient calmness to write these words. I have to-day received a letter which peremptorily summons me to Europe. I must leave home to-morrow. These circumstances alone have made me presume to address you thus abruptly.

Her heart was a well of ever-springing aspirations after affection. An orphan from her childhood, with but few objects on whom to bestow her love, on those who dwelt around her she lavished all the treasures of her heart. What then would she feel for him whom every duty as well as inclination, would call upon her to love with all the intensity, the devotion of which her nature was capable! But one fault, but one error could be im

his wife incite in him a desire to listen and believe? Firm in her own path, strong in the consciousness of undeviating rectitude, might not her example

"Constance, from childhood we have been friends. I have watched your beauty as it expanded into womanhood-have watched the more angelic unfoldings of your mind. In all your little difficul-puted to him. Might not the love which he bore ties you looked upon me as your friend, your counsellor. Even then I hung with rapture upon each modulation of your voice-even then I wished that your fate might be linked with mine. I felt my-persuade and at length convince? Would not her self unworthy of you: the idea of possessing your love inspired me. For your sake I entered into the world, I strove for mastery in the intellectual arena; I succeeded. I returned. I found you all, nay, more than my fond heart could have wished. You seemed, (dare I assert it?) to take pleasure in my society. Yet would I not thus have dared, had not my hasty departure compelled me. No! months of silent devotion of each look, word, and thought, should have insensibly expressed my feel-ions: and could a wife hope to effect that which the ings; but I have now no alternative.

"Constance, dearest, adored Constance, I love you! You know the ardor of my nature. You know how deep, how fervent, how idolatrous a passion is comprehended in these words! Accept my hand, and the devotion of my life shall be yours, to study every look, to anticipate every wish! Say but those blessed words—that I may hope, and my dreary pilgrimage will seem a paradise the days will glide in golden succession till my return.

refusal plunge him still deeper into error? Might she not be called upon to answer for the destruction of him whom she might have preserved?

But in vain were all these suggestions. She knew too well he did not only doubt; he disbelieved in the very existence of those objects of love and reverence which were to her a day-spring of bliss. It was not from the assertions of others that she judged; his own lips had pronounced his opin

courted mistress had been unable to complete? Instead of converting him to her own feelings, would she not rather be influenced by example, far more powerful than precept, and at last become herself less firm and less devout? Or if she still passed the ordeal unmoved, would not her continual difference of opinion, her repeated observance of those duties which he despised, be a constant source of bickerings? And must she not either be silent on all those subjects on which she loved to commune, I love, I adore you! Say then that or else hear them ridiculed, or at least listened to I may hope! To-morrow will behold me at your in sullen silence by the being whom she had profeet to hear my sentence from your lips-my ever-mised to love, honor and obey? lasting bliss, or my irremediable misery! My pen All these, and many more arguments, alike of is cold! it cannot express what I feel. My very passion and of virtue, did Constance bring forthoughts when written bear another aspect. Im- ward in terrible array before her mind. Hard agine then, dearest Constance, all that love or pas- indeed was the struggle; it seemed to rend asunsion can form in its wildest dreams,-even of such der her heartstrings. Again she hurriedly reflecta nature are my prayers to you. ed upon his merits, his worth,-and again that one fatal thought glared visibly before her. Again Here then was the crisis of her fate. Principle, she caught up his letter;-those words breathing virtue, religion, prompted a sudden and decisive tenderness again subdued her. She pressed it to refusal, but all their efforts were combatted by her lips, to her heart; she exclaimed, “No, no! "the broadest, deepest, strongest passion, that it is too great a trial, too great a sacrifice! But ever woman's heart was borne away by." How the lessons, the holy principles instilled into me, anxiously did she question her own heart, and how are they nought? Oh God! assist and strengthen bitter were its answers! She had raised in her own soul an object of love; she had invested it with ideal charms and perfections. That object, that form was ever the engrossing feature, the guiding principle of all her plans for the future: there was no thought of happiness in which the thought of him did not mingle. There was no obstacle to their union; their friends approved; fortune smiled on them; and should she be the only cause of her own grief and future misery?

EDWARD."

me!" She sunk on her knees, and prayed for aid; shrinking from a reliance on her own powers-she cast her burthen upon her Heavenly Guide, and he sustained her. Tears, tears of bitter anguish followed her supplication, but they could not alter her resolve. She arose from her knees, and without trusting her eyes again towards the letter, she threw herself on the bed, and ere an hour had passed, her sobs and tears had ceased in sleep.

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preference of which women far superior to me might be proud-I speak this from my heart! But Edward, I grieve most deeply, bitterly, that this offer has ever been made, for, however the decision may pain us both, I-cannot-accept it!"

Had the earth opened suddenly before him, Edward could scarcely have been more thunderstruck or appalled. Hope, bordering almost on certainty, had buoyed him up during the conversation, and the sudden blow was only more fearful, from its being so utterly unexpected.

"Constance, am I dreaming? What can have caused your peremptory rejection? What can so suddenly have altered your whole demeanor towards me? Have I unconsciously offended?"

Nay, madam, I will not presume to remonstrate;" he answered, striving by a sarcastic tone to hide his despairing feelings. "You are above the trifling affections that generally interest your sex. Your heart did not need to be consulted, and your judgment since last evening must no doubt have found cogent reasons for thus deciding."

The next morning Constance arose, and forti- Edward, do not, I beseech you, accuse me of fied herself again by prayer. She performed her caprice; it is rather to free myself from such a accustomed duties at home with her usual regu-charge, that I have spoken thus firmly. We may larity, but at length she heard the sound of Ed- still be friends, but my decision cannot be reward's foot ascending the stairs. Clinging to the tracted." chair near which she stood for support, she sunk into it as the door opened. With the freedom their long acquaintance warranted, he entered the room unannounced; he approached; his face radiant with smiles alike of hope and expectation. She felt thankful at the moment that a domestic was present, as Edward was under the necessity of speaking on some other subject than the only one of interest to them. He spoke of indifferent topics; she answered gravely, but calmly. She was bracing her heart for the approaching trial. At length the domestic quitted the room, and they were alone. A pause ensued, which was soon "And can you, Constance," he exclaimed, castbroken by Delancy. "Constance-Miss Wood-ing aside the pride in which he had endeavored to burn-I have called thus early, as I am absolutely fortify himself: "can you not pardon those words? compelled to leave home to-day. I have long wished an opportunity of speaking to you alone, and failing in that wish, I sent a letter last night. May I ask if you have received it?”

"I have."

"Edward Delancy, however I might have wished to enter into an explanation, it is but a duty to myself not to reply to such language uttered in such a tone;" she observed with dignity, rising from her seat.

Can you not feel for me? Have you not snatched from me all hope of happiness? Have you not, with one blow, forever destroyed the fond aspirations of my heart? And can you look thus unmoved upon the ruin of my peace, upon my blighted hopes, my crushed spirit? Has then my own egregious vanity deceived me; and have you never felt more for me than for a mere acquaintance? It must be so ; this determination causes you no pang!"

"Edward! Edward! I do not deserve that reproach!" she exclaimed in anguish, as her assumed firmness gave way, and the tears coursed each other from her eyes.

"You have, then, read my feelings. I have told you that my heart is wholly devoted to you-I have entreated you to accept my hand, my love-to share my fortune: that offer I now repeat. Is it presumption to entreat a reply? Were I not obliged to depart, (and I could not bear to go, uncertain of my fate,) I would not have thus sudddenly declared my hopes, my wishes. Speak then, dearest Constance, and tell me your answer!" Why then inflict that pang upon yourself and "Edward-Edward Delancy," she replied, me? Constance, dearest, beloved Constance, hear speaking with difficulty, but gathering strength me! You know how fondly I love you. My whole as she proceeded; "I have received your letter, life shall be employed in rendering you happy. Let and had I possessed sufficient firmness to write me not believe that my own love has blinded me— my reply, I should have spared both of us the that those bright eyes, when they grew brighter as pain of this interview. I regret, most sincerely, I approached-that this hand, when it trembled at that circumstances have obliged you to depart my touch-that those sweet blushes, (that even thus suddenly, otherwise my future conduct might now chase each other over your face,) when they gradually have explained what I am now compelled followed my breathing your name- -(nay, do not to declare to you at once. I fully appreciate the turn from me, Constance, nor withdraw your value of the preference you have shown me;-a | hand!) Let me not believe that those tokens,

seen only by a lover's eye, have deceived me! | what might not your pure example effect? ConFrom childhood you have been the guiding star sider then." of my existence. If your heart is now turned towards me, may not time ripen your friendship into love? Dearest, best beloved, speak, I beseech you!"

"Edward, all this, and more, much more, has my own heart urged! You know not, you cannot picture to yourself the anguish which this resolve has cost me, but I will not now waver. I doubt not that you would do all to make me happy. But your principles, right or wrong, are firmly, irrevocably established. An erring, hesitating being like myself can never hope to alter them. You deride, you deny the existence of that true and holy faith, on which I rest my hopes of eternal salvation-and were my love even more maddening than I have proved it—were you a thousand times more fitted to inspire that love-though my heart should break I would not accept your hand!"

"Edward Delancy, listen to me, while I make a disclosure which is perhaps unmaidenly, but which, for my own justification it is necessary you should hear. I will not deny or disguise the truth. You have been a friend, a brother to me from infancy, and I have ever esteemed and admired you. When we parted last, in the simplicity of my heart, I gave you a sister's farewell. I heard of your success in life,-of your ambition-of your genius. You returned-I saw your attention, your unceasing devotion-and I loved you. Yes, Edward, I do not shrink from the A death-like silence succeeded to this solemn avowal-I loved you!" Misled by these words, asseveration. Awed by her manner, Edward did by the crimson flushes that came and went like not attempt to utter a word; he looked at her, and lightning o'er her face, and still more, by the wo- revered her more than ever. At length, rousing manly faltering of her voice, which defied the con- himself as from a dream, he spoke : trol of the high resolution which actuated her, Ed- "Constance, I shall urge you no more. 1 now ward passionately pressed her hand to his lips. see clearly your motives, and though they destroy Calmly, but firmly she withdrew it from his all my happiness, I respect them. You have taught grasp, and with a look that could not be mista-me, Constance, that which I ever doubted until ken, she resumed: "Edward, I speak of past feel-now; that religion and duty may have greater ings. I shall ever think of you as a friend, but to power over a woman's heart, than even love itself. love I have bid adieu. It is no idle caprice to en-To prolong this interview is now prolonging mishance my future acceptance-it is no thoughtless fantasy of a heartless coquette which now urges me to speak-your own lips have pronounced the decision-your own heart has divided us forever! Two nights have passed since, in this very room, by accident I heard your conversation with the guests at my uncle's table. I heard you, Edward Delancy, jest upon those subjects which I have been taught to revere. Nay more, you, (and you the most eagerly,) disclaimed all belief in the existence of that religion and its attributes on which I rest all my hopes here and hereafter!"

ery to both. Let me still live in your memory! Whatever be my fate hereafter, my love towards you will be still unchanged. And if we should meet again, I will strive to conquer the selfish repinings of my heart, even though I see another in the enjoyment of that affection which I once hoped to have called my own."

That, Edward, you will never see. The heart which you won, cannot idly be caught by another. In wealth or in poverty, in life—or in death, I will cherish, with a pure and passionless regard, the recollection of my earliest, dearest friend. Should

"And, Constance, can you lay such stress upon we meet no more-let your last remembrance of a mere difference of opinion?"

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me be my blessing. May that Supreme Being, whose power you deride, soften and enlighten your heart-protect and bless you!"

Opinion! and is such the term you give it? Why, Edward, are you thus unjust? Would not even you shrink from a woman who professed such "Noble-hearted, exalted woman, farewell! For opinions? Would you not avoid, as a pestilence, the last time I press your hand in mine; remember an irreligious wife? Where would be your con-him who, whatever were his faults, deeply, truly fidence in her honor or her virtue? Would not loved you. Farewell! farewell!" Again, and the very fulness of her love make you doubt her? again he pressed her hand to his lips; she made no For what can be opposed to the raging floods of a effort to withdraw it. She murmured "farewell!" woman's passions, when religion's barriers are it was the word that severed them forever. swept away?"

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Constance, you consider this too deeply. honor, I respect your prejudices, and were you mine, never should they be interfered with."

Her scalding tears flowed in rapid succession, and fell upon his hand; and as the answering drops glistened in his own eyes, with man's feeling of shame at such weakness, he suddenly "And what prospect could such a pledge pre-gasped forth an adieu, and rushed from the house. sent, but constant suspicion and a mutual want of Weeping, Constance feebly tottered to her own confidence? No, Edward, it cannot be." apartment, where, unseen by any mortal eye, she

"But, my own Constance, loving you as I do, passed hours in comfortless agony.

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Three weeks had passed-a blank in existence. Edward had departed. The family deemed that Constance was seriously indisposed, and physicians were sent for; but their skill was exerted in vain. At length, Constance herself made a last effort to rise from her lethargy. When alone, she would pace the apartment for hours reflecting on what she had done, and by a rigid self-examination, discovered wherein she had erred. “What avails it," she would exclaim, "that I have bidden him farewell; and that forever? Do I not still love him? If duty required that I should reject him, that duty is not fulfilled while thus cherish and feed a consuming melancholy. The affection of my relatives I cast aside with indifference—the glowing health which heaven has granted, I wantonly abuse by this indulgence of grief-the precious time which never can return, I waste in fruitless retrospection—and those talents and acquirements which might make me estimable and useful to my friends, I daily enfeeble and neglect. More than all these, I nourish and encourage the absorbing passion which principle first taught me to shun, and which I feel is now sinful. When I bade him farewell, I vowed to remember him as a friendlet me keep my promise! Let me look upon him, not with the regret I should feel for the beloved dead, but with that pure regard due to a brother living! Let me live for others, as well as for myself-and let me avoid, as a serpent, one moment's idleness; that sure foster-mother of all vain fancies and uncontrolled imaginations. Let me cast all my sorrows at the feet of my Heavenly Father, and let the past week be the last of my existence, which I can reproach myself with having wasted!—"

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Three years and more had elapsed, and Constance had heard repeatedly of Edward, both from his letters to her uncle, and from public report. He had again appeared before the world as an author, and again success had triumphantly crowned his efforts. Time had given new strength to his intellect, and it seemed as if, thwarted where his whole heart had been devoted, he had determined to "pursue a nobler mistress, Glory!"

During Edward's absence, in the eventful course of those three years, Constance experienced a change in all her prospects. Her aged uncle died, after a short, but painful illness, of which she too soon learnt the fatal cause. Being naturally of an indolent disposition, having seen but little of the world, and deeming all mankind as honest as himself, he had unreservedly entrusted the care of all his property to an agent, who, by his plausible, and seemingly disinterested arguments, had so far misled Mr. Glenford, as to persuade him to enter into vast speculations, in which, (having obtained the consent of Constance,) a considerable portion of her property had also been embarked. Earnestly she besought of heaven the aid none These speculations proved, in part, successful; ever sincerely asked in vain. Strictly she adhered but, on pretence of urgent business, the agent to the undeviating path she had marked out. She hastened to New York and thence absconded no allowed herself no time for regrets. She plunged one knew whither, carrying with him an immense deeply into studies the most scientific and abstruse. sum of money, and all the documents which were She determined to comprehend them in all their requisite to substantiate Mr. Glenford's claims. bearings. To effect this it became necessary to The officers of justice were eagerly engaged in exert to their full extent all the powers of thought the search, and the agent was traced on board a and reasoning which she possessed; and by this vessel coasting to the south of France, where the constant and untiring exercise, the healthful tone ship was wrecked, and every soul perished. The of her feelings was by degrees restored. The news of the search having terminated thus hopestruggle was great, nor was the change soon ef-lessly, overcame Mr. Glenford. Appalled by the fected; but at last she was triumphant. She had accumulated weight of business which came pourschooled her heart most bitterly, and persevered ing in on every side, and called for exertions be

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