One might suppose that the young lady's heart was interested, and that Theodore was a far happier man than he imagined himself to be. The fact was neither more nor loss. Little Rosalie was proud of being called Theodore's wife, because she heard every body else speak in praise of him. Many a marriageable young lady had she heard declare-not minding to speak before a child-that Theodore was the finest young man in B; that she hoped Theodore, would be at such or such a house where she was going to dine, or spend the evening; nay, that she would like to have a sweetheart like Theodore. Then would Rosalie interpose, and with a saucy toss of her head exclaim, that nobody should have Theodore but Rosalie, for Rosalie was his little wife. "Twas thus she learned to admire the face and person of Theodore, who more than once paid for her acquired estimation of them; for sometimes before a whole room full of company she would march up to him, and scanning him from head to foot, with folded arms, at length declare aloud, that he was the handsomest young man in Then Theodore was so kind to her, and thought so much of any thing she did, and took such notice of her! Often, at a dance, he would make her his partner for the whole evening; and there was Miss Willoughby, perhaps, or Miss Millar, sitting down, either of whom would have given her eyes to stand up if only in a reel with Theodore.

B

But when the summer of her seventeenth year beheld her bursting into womanhood; when her expanding thoughts, from a bounding, fitful, rill-like current, began to run a deep, a broad, and steady stream; when she found that she was almost arrived at the threshold of the world, and reflected that the step which marks the female's first entrance into it is generally taken in the hand of a partner-the thought of who that partner might be, recalled Theodore to her mind and her heart fluttered as she asked herself the question should she ever be indeed his wife?

When, this time, he paid his first visit, Rosalie was as much mortified as he was. Her vexation was increased when she saw that he absented himself; she resolved, if possible, to ascertain the cause; and persuaded her mother to give a ball, and specially invite the young gentleman. He came; she watched him; observed that he neither inquired after her nor sought for her; and marked the excellent terms that he was upon with twenty people, about whom she knew him to be perfectly indifferent. Women have a perception of the workings of the heart, far more quick and subtle than we have. She was convinced that all his fine spirits were forced, that he was acting a part. She suspected that while he appeared to be occupied with every body but Rosalie Rosalie was the only body that was running in his thoughts. She saw him with.. draw to the library; she followed him: found him sitting down with a book in his hand; perceived, from his manner of turning over the leaves, that he was intent on any thing but reading; she was satisfied that he was thinking of nothing but Rosalie, The thought that Rosalie might one day indeed become his wife, now occurred to her for the thousandth time, and a thousand times stronger than ever: a spirit diffused itself through her heart which had never been breathed into it before; and filling it with hope and happiness, and unutterable contentment, irresistibly drew it towards him. She approached him, accosted him, and in a moment was seated with him, hand in hand, upon

the sofa!

1

As soon as the dance was done," Rosalie," said Theodore," 'tis almost as warm in the air as in the room: will you be afraid to take a turn with me in the garden ?"

"I will get my shawl in a minute," said Rosalie," and meet you there;" and the maiden was there almost as soon as he.

"Nay," resumed the maid, "we have remained long enough, and at least allow me to go in." "Stop but another minute, dear Rosalie !" imploringly exclaimed the youth.

"For what?" was the maid's reply.

"Rosalie," without a pause resumed Theodore," you used to sit upon my knee, and let me call you { wife. Are those times passed for ever? Dear Rosalie will you never let me take you on my knee and call you wife again?” "When we have done with our girlhood, we have done with our plays," said Rosalie.

"I do not mean in play, dear Rosalie," cried Theodore. "It is not playing at man and wife to walk, as such, out of church. Will you marry me, Rosalie ?'-** Rosalie was silent.

.་ག༼.

"Will you marry me ?" repeated he. Not a word would Rosalie speak. * "Hear me !" cried Theodore. "The first day, Rosalie, I took you upon my knee, and called you my wife, jest as it seemed to be, my heart was never more in earnest. That day I wedded you in my soul; for though you were a child I saw the future woman in you, rich in the richest attractions of your sex. Nay, do me justice; recall what you yourself have known of me; inquire of others. To whom did I play the suitor from that day? To none but you, although to you I did not seem to play it. Rosalie! was I not always with you? Recollect now! Did a day pass, when I was at home, without my coming to your father's house? When there were parties there, whom did I sit beside, but you? Whom did I stand behind at the pianoforte, but you? Nay, for a whole night, whom have I danced with, but you? Whatever you might have thought then, can you believe now, that it was merely a playful child that could so have engrossed me? No, Rosalie it was the virtuous, generous, lovely, loving woman, that I saw in the playful child. Rosalie! for five years have I loved you, though I never declared it to you till now. Do you think I am worthy of you? Will you give yourself to Will you marry me? Will you sit upon my knew again, and let me call you wife?"

me?

Three or four times Rosalie made an effort to speak; but desisted, as if she knew not what to say, or was unable to say what she wished; Theodore still holding her hand. At last, "Ask my father's consent!" she exclaimed, and tried to get away; but before she could effect it, she was clasped to the bosom of Theodore, nor released until the interchange of the first pledge of love had been forced from her bashful lips! -She did not appear that night in the drawing-room again.

Rosalie. The wedding-day was fixed; it wanted but a Theodore's addresses were sanctioned by the parents of fortnight to it, when a malignant fever made its appearance in the town; Rosalie's parents were the first victims. She was left an orphan at eighteen, and her uncle, by the mo ther's side, who had been nominated her guardian in a will, made several years, having followed his brother-in-law and sister's remains to the grave, took up his residence at

B

"I cannot go home to-night," resumed he," without

he had been looked upon as one of the wealthiest inhabitants of B. This was a double blow to Theodore, but he was not aware of the weight of it till, after the interment of his father, he repaired, for the first time, to resume his visits to his Rosalie.

"Was Miss Wilford there ?"

"No." Theodore was shewn into the parlour. Of all vage brutes, the human brute is the most pernicious and revolting, because he unites to the evil properties of the inArior animal the mental faculties of the superior one; and then he is at large. A vicious-tempered dog you can muzzle and render innocuous; but there is no preventing the human dog that bites from fleshing his tooth; he is sure to have it in somebody. And then the infliction is so immeasurably more severe the quick of the mind is so much more scrsitive than that of the body! Besides, the savage that runs upon four legs is so inferior in performance to him that walks upon two! "Tis he that knows how to gnawd have often thought it a pity and a sin that the man who plays the dog should be protected from dying the death of one. He should hang, and the other go free. "Well, young gentleman!" was the salutation which Theodore received when he entered the parlour; and pray. what brings you here?"

Theodore was struck dumb; aud np wonder. "Your father, I understand, has died a beggar! Do you hink to marry my niece ?" If Theodore respired with dificulty before, his breath was utterly taken away at this. He was a young man of spirit, but who can keep up his eart, when his ship, all at once is going down.

The human dog went on." Young gentleman, I shall e plain with you, for I am a straightforward man; young romen should mate with their matches- you are no match or my niece; so a good morning to you!" How more in lace to have wished him a good halter! Saying this, the frightforward savage walked out of the room, leaving the bot wide open that Theodore might have room for egress; ad steadily walked up stairs.

This was a great deal of work to be done in a year: but if Theodore was not a man of genius, he possessed a mind of that sanguine temperament, which is usually an accompaniment of the richer gift. Before the hour of dinner all his plans were laid, and he was ready to start for London. He waited now for nothing but a message from Rosalie, and as soon as the sweet girl could send it, it came to him. It appointed him to meet her in the green lane after sunset ; the sun had scarcely set when he was there, and there, too, was Rosalie. He found that she was Rosalie still. Fate had stripped him of fortune; but she could not persuade Rosalie to refuse him her hand, or her lip; when, halfway down the lane, she heard a light quick step behind her, and, turning, beheld Theodore.

She

Theodore's wishes, as I stated before, were granted soon as communicated; and now nothing remained but to say good bye, perhaps the hardest thing to two young lovers. Rosalie stood passive in the arms of Theodore, as he took the farewell kiss, which appeared as if it would join his lips to hers for ever, instead of tearing them" away. heard her name called from a short distance, and in a halfsuppressed voice; she started, and turned towards the direction whence the pre-concerted warning came; she heard it again; she had stopped till the last moment! She had half-withdrawn herself from Theodore's arms; she looked at him; flung her own around him, and burst into tears upon his neck! In another minute there was nobody in the lane.

London is a glorious place for a man of talent to make his way in-provided he has extraordinary good luck. Nothing but merit can get on there; nothing is sterling that is not of its coinage. Our provincial towns won't be lieve that gold is gold unless it has been minted in London. There is no trickery there; no treating, no canvass

Teil your master I wish to speak to him," said Theolars to the servant who answered it. The servant went up Para after his master, and returned.

I am sorry, sir," said he, " to be the bearer of such an Brand; but my master desires you instantly to quit the ;, and has commanded me to tell you he has given me rers not to admit you again."

Jest see Miss Wilford!" exclaimed Theodore. You cannot, sir!" respectfully remarked the servant; for she is worked in her own room; but you can send a ~rage to her,” added he in a whisper," and I will be the * of it. There is not a servant in the house, Mr Theoaur, but is sorry for you to the soul."

This was so much in season, and was so evidently spoken rom the heart, that Theodore could not help catching the nest fellow by the haud, Here the drawing-room bell Tas rung violently..

"I must go, sir," said the servant; "what message to by mistress?"

Tell her to give me a meeting, and to apprize me of be time and place," said Theodore; and the next moment ralf-door was shut upon him.

One may easily imagine the state of the young fellow's and. To be driven with insult and barbarity from the muse in which he had been received a thousand times with wirtesy, and kindness-which he looked upon as his own! Then, what was to be done? Rosalie's uncle, after all, told him nothing but the truth. His father had died beggar. Dear as Rosalie was to Theodore, his own rice recoiled at the idea of offering her a hand which was in the master of a shilling! Yet was not Theodore por fleas. His education was finished; that term he had completed his collegiate studies. If his father had not left Mina fortune, he had provided him with the means of making one himself at all events, of commanding a compe Yury. He had the credit of being a young man of decided pnius too. I will not offer Rosalie a beggar's hand!"

shew itself if it wishes to be killed with kindness! London tells the truth! You may swear to what it says, whatsoever may be proved to the contrary. The cause the cause is every thing in London! Shew but your craft, and straight your brethren come crowding around you, and if they find you worthy, why, you shall be brought into notice, even though they should tell a lie for it and damn you. Never trouble yourself about getting on by interest in London! Get on by yourself. Posts are filled there by merit; or if the man suits not the office, why the office is made to adapt itself to the man, and so there is unity after all! What a happy fellow was Theodore to find himself in such a place as London!

He was certainly happy in one thing; the coach in which he came set him down at a friend's, whose circumstances were narrow, but whose heart was large-a curate of the Church of England. Strange that, with all the appurtenances of hospitality at its command, abundance should allow it to be said, that the kindest welcome which adversity usually meets with, is that which it receives from adversity. If Theodore found that the house was a cold one to what he had been accustomed, the warmth of the greeting made up for it. They breakfasted at nine, dined at four, and, if he could sleep upon the sofa, why there was a bed for him!" In a day he was settled, and at his work.

And upon what did Theodore found his hopes of making a fortune, and rising to fame in London? Upon writing a play. At an early period he had discovered, as his friends imagined, a talent for dramatic composition; and having rather sedulously cultivated that branch of literature, he thought that he would now try his hand in one bold effort, the success of which should determine him as to his future course in life. The play was written, presented, and accepted; the performers were ready in their parts; the evening of representation came on, and Theodore, seated in the pit beside his friend, at last, with a throbbing heart, beheld the curtain rise. The first and second acts went off smoothly, and with appause.

Two gentlemen were placed immediately in front of Theodore. "What do you think of it?" said the one to

the other.

Rather tame," was the reply. "Will it suceed?"

"Doubtful."

The third act, however, decided the fate of the play; the interest of the audience became so intense, that, at one particular stage of the action, numbers in the second and third rows of the side boxes stood up, and the clapping of hands was universal, intermingled with cries of "bravo!" from every part of the theatre. ""Twill do," was now the remark, and Theodore breathed a little more freely than he had done some ten minutes ago. Not to be too tedious, the curtain fell amidst shouts of approbation, unmingled with the slighest demonstration of displeasure, and the author had not twenty friends in the house.

If Theodore did not sleep that night, it was not from inquietude of mind-contentment was his repose. His most sanguine hopes had been surpassed; the fiat of a London audience had stamped him a dramatist; the way to fortune was open and clear, and Rosalie would be his.

Next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Theodore and his friend repaired to the coffee-room. "We must see what the critics say," remarked the latter. Theodore, with prideful confidence the offspring of fair success-took up the first morning print that came to his hand. Theatre Royal met his eye. "Happy is the successful dramatist!" exclaimed Theodore to himself;" at night he is greeted by the applause of admiring thousands, and in the morning they are repeated, and echoed all over the kingdom through the medium of the press! What will Rosalie say when her eye falls upon this!"-And what would Rosalie say when she read the utter damnation of her lover's drama, which the critic denounced from the beginning to the end, without presenting his readers with a single quotation to justify the severity of his strictures!

"Tis very odd!" said Theodore.

"Tis very odd, indeed!" rejoined his friend, repeating his words. "You told me this play was your own, and here I find that you have copied it from half a dozen others that have been founded upon the same story."

"Where?" inquired Theodore, reaching for the paper. "There!" said his friend, pointing to the paragraph. "And is this London !" exclaimed Theodore, "I never read a play, nor the line of a play upon the same subject. Why does not the writer prove the plagiarism ?"

"Because he does not know whether it is or is not a plagiarism," rejoined the other. "He ie aware that several other authors have constructed dramas upon the same passage in history; and to draw the most charitable inference, for you would not suspect him of telling a deliberate lie he thinks you have seen them, and have availed yourself of them."

"Is it not the next thing to a falsehood,” indignantly exclaimed Theodore, “ to advance a charge, of the justness of which you have not assured yourself?"

"I know not that," rejoined his friend; " but it certainly indicates a rather superficial reverence for truth; and a disposition to censure, which excludes from all claim to ingenuousness the individual who indulges it."

"And this will go the round of the whole kingdom ?" Yes."

"Should I not contradict it ?"
"No."
"Why?"

""Tis beneath you; besides, the stamp of malignancy is so strong upon it, that, except to the utterly ignorant, it is harmless; and even these, when they witness your play themselves, as sometime or another they will, will remember the libel, to the cost of its author and to your advantage. I see you have been almost as hardly treated by this gentleman," continued he, glancing over the paper which Theodore had taken up when he entered the room. "Are you acquainted with any of the gentlemen of the press ?" "No; and is it not therefore strange that I should have enemies among them!"

"Not at all." "Why?"

Look over the rest of

you may find salve.

H

"Because you have succeeded. the journals," continued his friend; perhaps, for these scratches." Theodore did so; and in one or two instances salve, indeed, he found; but upon the whole he was in little danger of being spoiled through the praises of the press. "Why," exclaimed Theodore, "why do not letters enlarge the soul, while they expand the mind? Why do they not make men generous and honest? Why is not every literary man an illustration of Juvenal's axiom ?" 7. "Teach a dog what you may," rejoined his friend,'" can you alter his nature, so that the brute shall not predomin ate ?"

"No," replied Theodore.

"You are answered," said his friend.

The play had what is called a run, but not a decided one. Night after night it was received with the same enthusiastic applauses; but the audiences did not herease. It was a victory without the acquisition of spoils or territory.

"What can be the meaning of this ?" exclaimed Theodore; "we seem to be moving, and yet do not advance an inch !"

"They should paragraph the play as they do a panto. mine," remarked his friend. But then a pantomine is a expensive thing; they will lay out one thousand pounds upon one, and they must get their money back The same is the case with their melo-dramas; so, if you wazi to succeed to the height, as a play-wright, you know what to do."

"What?" inquired Theodore.

"Write melo-dramas and pantomines !"'

Six months had now elapsed, and Theodore's purse, with all his success, was rather lighter than when he first pulled it out in London. However, in a week two bills which he had taken from his publisher would fall due, and then he would run down to B, and perhaps obtain an interview with Rosalic. At the expiration of the week hiz bills were presented, and dishonoured! He repaired to hi publisher's for an explanation-the house had stopped! Poor Theodore: They were in the Gazette that very day! Theodore turned into the first coffee-room to look at a pa per; there were, indeed, the names of the firm! “I defy fortune to serve me a scurvier trick!" exclaimed Theodore, the tears half starting into his eyes. He little knew the lady whose ingenuity he was braving.

He looked now at one side of the paper, and now at the other, thinking all the while of nothing but the bills and bankrupts' list. Splendid Fête at B met his eye, and soon his thoughts were occupied with nothing but B—¡ for there he read that the young lord of the manor, having just come of age, had given a ball and supper, the former which he opened with the lovely and accomplished Miss Rosalie The grace of the fair couple was expatiated upon; and the editor took occasion to hint, that a pair formed by nature for each other might probably, before longs take hands in another, a longer, and more momentous dan What did Theodore think of Fortune now ?

"O that it were but a stride to B!" the exclaimed, as he laid down the paper, and his hand dropped: nerveles at his side. He left the coffee-house and dreamed his‹ waf back to his friend's. Gigs, carriages, carts rolled by hi unheeded; the foot-path was crowded, but he saw not soul in the street. He was in the ball-room at Ba looking on while the young lord of the manor handed of Rosalie to lead her down the dance, through every figure which Theodore followed them with his eyes with seruth nizing glance, scanning the countenance of his mistress Then the set was over, and he saw them walking arm-in arm up and down the room; and presently they were stan ing again; and now the ball was over, and he follow them to the supper-room, where he saw the young lord the manor place Rosalie beside him. Then fancy chang the scene from the supper-room to the church, at the el of which stood Rosalie with his happy rival; and he he the questions and responses which forge the mystic chai

that binds for life and he saw the ring put on, and heard te blessing which announces that the nuptial sacrament is Complete! His hands were clenched; his cheek was in a A me a wish was rising in his throat-" Good news for you," said some one clapping him on the back; "a letter from Rosalie lies for you at home. Why are you passing the house?" 'Twas his friend.

"A letter from Rosalie " exclaimed Theodore. Quickly he retraced his steps, and there on his table lay, indeed, the dear missive of his Rosalie.

"Welcome, sweet comforter!" ejaculated Theodore, as he kissed the cyphers which his Rosalie's hand had traced, and the wax which bore the impress of her seal" Welcome, O welcome! you come in time; you bring an ample solace for disappointment, mortification, poverty-whatever my evil destiny can inflict! You have come to assure me that they cannot deprive me of my Rosalie!"

Bright was his eye, and glistening while he spoke; but when he opened the fair folds that conveyed to him the thoughts of his mistress, its radiancy was gone! "THEODORE, T

"I am aware of the utter frustation of your hopes; I am convinced that at the end of a year you will not be a step nearer to fortune than you are now; why then keep my hand for you? What I say briefly, you will interpret fully. You are now the guardian of my happiness-as such I address you. Thursday-so you consent-will be my wedding-day..

"ROSALIE."

Such was the letter, upon the address and seal of which Theodore had imprinted a score of kisses before he opened it. “Fortune is in the mood," said Theodore with a sigh, so deeply drawn, that any one who had heard it would have imagined he had breathed his spirit out along with it "Fortune is in the mood, and let her have her humour out! I shall answer the letter; my reply to her shall convey what she desires nothing more! she is incapable of entering into my feelings, and unworthy of being made acquainted with them; I shall not condescend even to complain." “ ROSALIE,

"You are free!

"THEODORE."

Such was the answer which Theodore despatched to Ro- | salie. O the enviable restlessness of the mind upon the first shock of thwarted affection! How it turns every way for the solace which it feels it can no more meet with, except in the perfect extinction of consciousness. Find in it an anodyne you cannot. A drug may close the eye for a time, but the soul will not sleep a wink; it lies broad awake to agony distinct, palpable, immediate; howsoever memory may be cheated to lose for the present the traces of the cause. Then for the start, the spasm, the groan, which, while the body lies free, attest the presence and activity of the mental rack! Better walk than go to sleep!--A heath, without a soul but yourself upon it an ink-black sky, pouring down torrents--wind, lightning, thunder, as though the vault above was crackling and disparting into fragments any thing to mount above the pitch of your own solitude, and darkness, and tempest; and overcome them, or attract and divert your contemplation from them, or threaten every moment to put an end to them and you!

Theodore's friend scarcely knew him the next morning. He glanced at him, and took no further notice. "Twas the best way, though people there are who imagine that it rests with a man in a fever, at his own option to remain in it, orter become convalescent.

Theodore's feelings were more insupportable to him the secord day than the first. He went here and there and everywhere; and nowhere could he remain for two minutes at a time late rest. Then he was so abstracted. Crossing a street. he was nearly run over by a vehicle and four. This for a moment awakened him. He saw London and Bnpon the panels of the coach. The box seat was auptg he asked if it was engaged. "No." He sprung upon it and away they drove. "I'll see her once more,' exclaimed Theodore, it can but drive me mad or break my heart.",

Within a mile of B

a splendid barouche passed them

"Whose is that ?" inquired Theodore. "The young lord of the manor," answered the driver, "Did you see the lady in it ?" "No."

"I caught a glimpse of her dress," said the driver. "I'll warrant she is a dashing one! The young squire, they say, has a capital taste!" Theodore looked after the carriage. There was nothing but the road. The vehicle drove at a rapid pace, and was soon out of sight. Theodore's heart turned sick.

The moment the coach stopped he alighted; and with a misgiving mind he stood at the door which had often admitted him to his Rosalie. "Twas opened by a domestic whom he had never seen before. "Was Miss Wilford within ?"—"No."—"When would she return ?”“Never. She had gone that morning to London to be married!" Theodore made no further inquiries, neither did he offer to go, but stood glaring upon the man more like a spectre than a human being. "Any thing more?" said the man, retreating into the house, and gradually closing the door, through which now only a portion of his face could be seen. "Any thing more?" Theodore made no reply; in fact he had lost all consciousness. At last, the shutting of the door, which, half from panic, half from anger, the man pushed violently to, aroused him. "I shall knock at you no more!" said he, and departed, pressing his heart with his hand, and moving his limbs as if he cared not how, or whither they bore him. A gate suddenly stopped his progress; 'twas the entrance to the green lane. He stepped over the stile he was on the spot where he had parted last from Rosalie where she had flung her arms about his neck and wept upon it. His heart began to melt, for the first time since he had received her letter: a sense of suffocation came over him, till he felt as if he would choke. The name of Rosalie was on his tongue; twice he attempted to articulate it, but could not. At last it got vent in a convulsive sob, which was followed by a torrent of tears. He threw himself upon the ground-he wept on-he made no effort to check the flood, but let it flow till forgetfulness stopped it.

He rose with a sensation of intense cold. 'Twas morning! He had slept!'« Would that he had slept on!" He turned from the sun, as it rose without a cloud, upon the wedding morn of Rosalie. "Twas Thursday. He repassed the stile; and, in a few minutes, was on his road to London, which he entered about eleven o'clock at night, and straight proceeded to his friend's. They were gone to bed. "Give me a light," said Theodore, "I'll go to bed." "Your bed is occupied, Sir," replied the servant. "Is it ?" said Theodore; "Well, I can sleep upon the carpet." He turned into the parlour, drew a chair towards the table, upon which the servant placed a light, and sat down. All was quiet for a time. Presently he heard a foot upon the stair. "Twas his friend's who was descending, and now entered the parlour.

"I thought you were a-bed," said Theodore.

יז

"She came to town with him yesterday." "I don't believe it."

Theodore pushed back his chair, and stared at his friend. "What do you mean?" said Theodore.

"I mean that I entertain some doubts as to the accuracy of your grounds for concluding that Rosalie is inconstant to you."

"Did I not read the proof of it in the public papers ?" "The statement may have been erroneous.” "Did not her own letter assure me of it ?" "You may have misunderstood it."