Trehearn a more and more frequent visitor at Fitzroy Cottage, when one morning, about two years subsequently to the period at which this narrative commences, Sir Frederick came alone, and with an air of mysterious importance, requested the honour of a private interview with Mrs. Fitzroy. They were all seated in the breakfast parlour when Sir Frederick arrived, and Mrs. Fitzroy immediately retired with him to another apartment. Jane, who was embroidering a beautiful veil of Brussels lace, instead of continuing her work, could do nothing but look again and again at that portion of it which was already finished, as if she were suddenly struck with the extreme richness and elegance of the pattern. Agnes was reading; but the hand which held the book dropped upon her knee, and while a faint flush came across her cheek, her eyes were fixed upon the countenance of Jane, who, for once in her life, looked serious and thoughtful. Was it not strange, that neither spoke to the other, when it would seem to be so natural they should interchange thoughts upon the object of Sir Federick's visit? But they were silent. And the only interruption of their silence was now and then a tremulous sigh, which breathed through the lips of Agnes, In about half an hour, Mrs. Fitzroy returned to the room, for Sir Frederick had taken his departure. She approached Jane, took her hand affectionately, and as she tenderly leaned forward to kiss her forehead, exclaimed, "I have long expected such an interview with Sir Frederick Trehearn." Jane looked up. There was a radiant smile upon her features which caught the eye of Agnes. She read all its meaning, and smiled too; but the light of her smile, as it spread itself over her pale cheeks, was like a wintry sunbeam upon a bed of snow. What followed will be as easily anticipated, I doubt not, by the reader, as it was by both Jane and Agnes. Mrs. Fitzroy, having seated herself, informed her daughters, (for such she always styled Jane,) that Sir Frederick had waited upon her to make certain customary enquiries, in consequence of having learned from his son that he was desirous of being permitted henceforth to consider himself the acknowledged suitor of Jane; a desire which he had no wish to oppose, provided he was satisfied with respect to her family and fortune, taking it for granted that Edward had already ascertained the inclinations of the young lady herself. "And you may be sure, my dear child." added Mrs. Fitzroy, "I had nothing to say which was likely to interpose an obstacle, except, indeed, upon the score of your fortune, which, though hardly sufficient, perhaps, to match with the large expectations of the heir of the Trehearn estates, is enough, coupled with the rich dowry of yourself, to make you the worthy sharer of a dukedom. Sir Frederick, I am happy to say, estimates the money value of what you possess, in the same liberal spirit. So now, my child, you have only to consult your own heart well, before you finally take a step, in which, according as the heart is well consulted or not, must be ever the chances of its after felicity." The affectionate and parental tone with which Mrs. Fitzroy uttered these words, was answered by the tears of Jane, as they fell fast upon the veil she still held in her hands; but Agnes, advancing towards her, and tenderly throwing her arms round her neck, exclaimed, as she gently kissed her," Happy, happy Jane!" in accents that too well suited with her own tears, which now mingled with those of her cousin. In a few moments the struggle was over; and then, what a touching contrast there was between the beaming countenance of Jane, suffused, each instant, by the mantling tinge of conscious joy, which maiden bashfulness, at times, deepened to the blush of virgin modesty true love's silent rapture!—and the feverish crimson that burned upon the cheek of Agnes, now quenched, and now revived, as hope's expiring torch shot forth its dying flashes in her striken heart-true love's silent agony! She, like her mother, had long expected such an interview as Sir Frederick Trehearn had that morning sought; but her altered anticipation of its object was scarcely a month old. Alas! our own desires are swift and treacherous pioneers of our secret hopes. While they seem to remove all difficulties, to level all obstructions, and to open before us a straight, smooth path, for the attainment of what we covet, they only dig pitfalls, and prepare ambushes, to betray or surprise our steps in the pursuit. Agnes, who had followed in their track, found herself engulfed in one of their snares. She awakened as from a dream. But it availed her nothing that her reason told her it was a dream, that she knew she had built up a fairy palace, and that the scene of thrilling enchantment had dissolved away. The scene, indeed, might vanish; but where it had once been remained a ruin! She had realized her own prophetic fears. In the solitude of her heart, love, which had reared itself unbidden, now drooped to unseen decay, in the withering soil of its birth. They know little of this passion, who deem it the offspring of sighs and protestations, of oaths and tears, of prayers and entreaties, and all the small artillery of courtship. These are but the husbandry which calls forth the common produce of common soils; the needful aliment of that great principle of nature, which alike peoples our cities and our plains, our rivers, aud the air we breathe. In many a heart, where it has never been awakened, lies the subtle essence, which, when touched by a kindred essence, starts at once into giant life. And how manifold are the channels through which that kindred essence works itself a passage to the sleeping mischief! A word, a look, a tone of the voice, one pressure of the hand-though a hundred and a hundred have preceeded it—a simple "Good night," or a parting "God bless you!" from lips that have pronounced the former for months, shall, in a predestined moment, be, like the spark that falls upon the nitrous heap, followed by instant combustion. And then, what a revolution is effected! The eyes see not the ear hears not-the mind perceives not, as they have been wont. A new being is created-the past is obliterated ;-nothing seems to remain of what was; and the very identity of the object, by whom this delirium of all the faculties has been produced, is destroyed. We strive, in vain, to recall the mere man or woman we have known, in the lover or the mistress we now adore. Spell-bound in the fascination, enthralled in the idolatry of suddenly awakened passions, we discover wisdom, wit, beauty, eloquence, grace, charms, benignity, and loveliness, where hitherto we beheld them not, or, at the most, had only dim and visionary glimpses of their possible existence. Picture to yourself the block of rough and shapeless marble, before the magic touches of a Canova, a Chantry, or a Flaxman, have chipped and chiselled away the superfluous rubbish that conceals the living Venus, or the speaking statesman, and you have the best comparison I can imagine of that transformation which the idol of the human heart undergoes, at the moment when the heart creates its idol. Poor Agnes had found her predestined moment. She knew not why, but of late, the presence of Edward Trehearn seemed to tranquillize feelings, which disturbed and harassed her when he was absent. And then, too, every thing he said, every thing he did, every thing he thought, had become, as it were, unquestioned oracles with her. He could not be wrong; and she was surprised how any body could think or act otherwise than as he thought and acted. If he admired a flower, or dwelt rapturously upon the beauties of a landscape, that flower immediately possessed some hitherto undiscovered fragrance or unnoticed eiegance in the eyes of Agnes, and that landscape straight had charms which she had never seen before. If he condemned another's conduct, Agnes at once thought the object of his censure vile; and if he spoke with enthusiasm of any passage in the poet he was reading, Agnes read it so often afterwards, that she could repeat every line. When he was expected at the cottage, neither her books, nor her music, nor her needle, could fix her attention; her thoughts still ran before the hour; and many a treasured feeling was hushed into repose till the moment when it could come forth in his presence. Sometimes, indeed, she paused to ask herself the meaning of all this. To question her heart, why it turned so instinctively towards him, for the gratification of all its most cherished emotions? It was a fruitless scrutiny; a baffled inquisition; for all she gained by it was to know the fact, but not to find the cause; and as there was perfect felicity in the knowledge, why should she care for further investigation? The only thing she fancied she was certain of was, that love had no share in what she felt; she had been in love, she knew, more than once; and it was not at all like what she now experienced. Besides, Edward had never spoken of love to her; and love, therefore, must be out of the question. This was her consolation for a time; but it gradually departed from her, to be succeeded by other thoughts and other hopes. The first startling consciousness of what was really the truth, burst upon her one evening when Edward was reading to Mrs. Fitzroy, Jane, and herself, Shakspeare's Twelfth Night. She had often read it alone; she had once before heard Edward read it; but this time, she felt a strange interest, an unwonted sympathy, in the romantic sorrows of Viola; whilst her heart palpitated violently as the words of Olivia fell upon her ear: The sigh that burst from the lips of Agnes, as her eyes dropped, and she resumed the fancy-work she was about, responded with mournful eloquence to the thrilling question. But It was little more than a month after this evening that Sir Frederick Trehearn called upon Mrs Fitzroy, and within the same period Agnes had fatally discovered that which caused his visit. No preparation can completely arm us against the shock of an anticipated blow when it really comes: and hence the brief struggle with herself which has been described. that brief struggle was ALL. Agnes was too proud to confess a sorrow of her own creating. She could not stoop to acknowledge she had nourished, not merely an unrequited, but an unsought, and undesired passion; and she was too noble-minded to disturb the happiness of one she so loved, by the selfiish obstruction of her own wretchedness. Not a word ever passed her lips, therefore, that could betray what was passing in her heart; and yet, many a sharp and bitter pang was given to her heart when Jane, ignorant of its sufferings would strive to cheer the drooping spirits of her melancholy cousin, by joyous anticipations of her own approaching felicity, or sprightly productions, that the example she was about to set, would soon be followed by Agnes herself. These were her most trying moments; for there are no moments so trying as when we are called upon to participate, only, in joys which we have once expected to revel in alone; to see the gar. land which has faded off our own brow freshly blooming on the brow of another. Agnes, however, save that sometimes her smiles were cold and languid, and that her answers denoted she was more engaged with her own thoughts than with Jane's discourse, bore her trials meekly. Once, only once, she permitted an expression to escape her which had reference to her situation. "I wonder," said Jane, one evening, in her usual rattling manner, after the day had been fixed for the celebration of her marriage with Edward, "I wonder whether marriages in a family are like misfortunes, which they say never come alone? What do you think, Agues?" "I wonder," said Agnes, pensively, and with a slightly tremulous voice, which she strove to conceal by a faint effort of gaiety in her manner, 66 I wonder whether I shall be made to waltz again, if I compare my heart, now, to the dove wandering forth from its ark to find a resting place, but returning with no olive branch ?" Jane was silent. The word now had been pronounced in a tone of such deep melancholy by Agnes, and with an emphasis so peculiar, that, though Jane knew not its meaning, she felt it had a meaning which could not be sported with; and Agnes herself immediately changed the subject of conversation. The bridal-morn came, and Agnes descended from her chamber a bride's-maid! She would have it so, in spite of all the fond entreaties of her mother to the contrary. And why were those fond entreaties urged? Alas! The grief that speaks not-that weeps notthat will not complain, but dwells in silence in the heart, is the grief which consumes the heart. Other sorrows quench themselves in their own tears—or are scattered by their own sighs-or discharged from the oppressed bosom in each word of gentle lamentation; but the ravages of a lonely sorrow are fatal! Like the worm that never dies, it gnaws and gnaws, from hour to hour, and from day to day, till the last thread of the vital cord gives way, and the poor sufferer is at rest. The health of Agnes had gradually declined; and though she strove to conceal as well the symptoms as the cause of her increasing debility, she could not allay the anxious fears of her mother, as her wan face, painted with the hectic glow of a wasting fever, told "How painful disappointment's canker'd fang Wither'd the rose upon her maiden cheek." Mrs. Fitzroy had watched these symptoms with uneasiness, but without any serious apprehensions, till the rapid strides they latterly made inspired her with alarming thoughts of the danger they portended. In fact, there was but too much reason to dread that Agnes was becoming consumptive, if she were not so already. The languid glare of her full blue eyes, to which a frightful prominence was given from the hollowness produced by the wasting of the flesh round their orbits the quick breathing, and the panting cough, brought on by the slightest motion-the wayward appetite, that now loathed and now craved for food-and the labouring respiration, as well as the flushed face, which followed every meal-together with the emaciated appearance of her whole frame, were fearful indications of the existence of that hopeless though deceitful malady. Medical aid had been called in, but the most skilful remedies had failed to arrest its progress. Yet there were some days when a treacherous hope of amendment was held out, to be followed only by a more severe and searching relapse. It was in this delicate and dangerous crisis of her health, that the appointed wedding-day arrived; and hence it was, that both Mrs. Fitzroy and Jane earnestly dissuaded her from encountering the fatigue and excitement of the ceremony. But no; it was her wish, her prayer almost, that she should attend, and that she should be her cousin's only bride's maid. And she did so; and she was her only bride's-maid; and she stood, like one entranced, before the altar; and when the ring was on the finger of Jane, she smiled, and in a whispered exclamation to her own breaking heart, she said, "I have done well! I have triumphed over myself! I have calmly witnessed the consummation of a felicity which should have been my own; and now I may depart, and bury my secret with me." Jane was a happy bride, but Agnes felt that she was a happier bride's-maid, for her last and hardest trial was over, save one, and that she prayed for as the end which saw the nuptials of Jane Douglas, shed its waning beams upon the grave of Agnes Fitzroy! On the eleventh morning she died; but death stole over her so gently, that she was as one who sunk to sleep only in his grim embrace. And as she seemed to fall asleep, her finger dropped upon the melancholy but faithful picture of her own sad fate, drawn with prophetic fidelity by one who, like herself, had bowed his head to the "worm that preyed upon her youthful bloom." A volume of Kirke White's Poems was in her hand; she had been reading his Fragment of an Eccentric Drama; and the book lay open before her, where the Goddess of Consumption is supposed to speak in the following fanciful strain of her fell office. It was probably the last object upon which the dying eyes of Agnes rested! "In the dismal night-air drest, I will creep into her breast; Flush her cheek and bleach her skin, Reader! if I have shown you a picture of FIRST LOVE, which your heart recognises, you will know that such love is FIRST and LAST. THE LAST LOVE SONG. I taught love to as warm a heart That heart's warm pulses all are told, That living snow soiled by the grave, That bosom's fires for ever cold! For me the light of love is o'er; LONDON AND PARISIAN FASHIONS. M. DRESSES.-For ball costume a double jupon of white gauze, was ornamented with silver fringing so as to figure a tunic: the under jupon was similarly adorned with silver fringing. A white gauze dress had deep volans of the same, as also ruffles ornamented with silver bands. A white tulle dress had an under skirt of the same; the outside one was caught up on each side by two little garlands of blue-bells, intermixed with silver foliage, which reached to the folds of the corsage and united to the half garland on the shoulders, forming also a bouquet on the front of the bust. The same ornaments with the addition of small diamonds were intermixed with the hair. A white crape dress, was made with great plainness, having a single broad biais band on the lower part of the skirt; the other ornaments were attached with white velvet camelias formed into a wreath just above the biais fold. A white Pekin dress, had a little border of silver lace surrounding both the upper and lower part of the corsage, ruffles of the same to the sleeves. A deep flounce of silver lace was met half way up the skirt a little at the side by a half garland of foliage. The underneath dress was the same having a narrow lace flounce. Another of green worked moire with pointed corsage, the hem was turned up and fixed with small olives which likewise ornamented the sleeves. A black lace border ornamented the under dress and the shoulders in the epaulette form. Besides the splendid shawls and shawl-scarfs of raised designs, those similar in fabric to the dress and edged with lace are much admired and with many gain a decided preference. A Pekin dress was made with two rather wide folds, sloping across the bust in an undulating form and uniting in a peak at the ceinture. The sleeves full to the mid-arm, when they gradually diminished to the wrist which was terminated by a cuff turned back in two semi-circles ending in a piping of the same. A double flounce laid on biais and rather deep completed the effect of this dress which was pretty and simple. This might be much altered and modified to taste by the introduction of black lace as a hordering to the folds; the corsage when in green or brown stripes have ribbons to match or rather to contrast on the sleeves and let into the flounces. A spirally twisted narrow ribbon, caught into a rouleau at nearly regular intervals with a small rosette, and ends may be very effectually used, particularly when the flounce is not parallel with the hem, but ascends in one or two places. A large hem is sometimes substituted, which seems to retain the flounce in its place. The amplitude of the skirt is by no means diminished, on the contrary it is gathered or plaited according to the nature of the material rather amply all round. The mode of trimming is so redolent of variety from the latitude of the present manner and style that it may be altered to suit almost infinite peculiarities of taste. The flounce of a similar fabric to the dress is a very general and becoming manner; it is frequently varied by a small lace tulle or other heading. The flounce itself is separated sometimes at intervals, when a nœud is inserted between, sometimes festooned. For Levantines, Pekins, Challis &c. this has been prevalent. A different flounce of a lighter texture as lace, tulle, &c. will be more in vogue now that the fine weather has appeared to pay us a more permanent visit than usual. A very beautiful costume was composed of silvergrey Pekin in the redingote form, was lined with rosecolored Persian, with a mantelet of the same similarly lined and ornamented as well as the sleeves, corsage and flounce of the dress with point d'Alençon lace of splendid gothic designs. HATS AND CAPS.-Petit bords prevail to a greater extent than we have had to record for some time past. They are also made in a greater variety of shapes and consequently have become more suitable for various ages, complexions and features. Of the latter those of velvet take the precedence. A small one of garnetcolored velvet, was surrounded with a border of diamonds, and had instead of feathers a nœud of velvet placed on the side, retained by a superb egret of diamonds; long ends flowing half way down the skirt hang down in continuation from the velvet nœud. The dimensions of hats are probably at their height, and the next step they take will be downward. We have seen some satin capotes made in very excellent style, neither so high in the form nor so long in the crown as ordinarily. Many of the neutral tints prevail, as pearl-grey, a delicate pink and straw-color. Caps of the slightest formation are much worn, a very light border of tulle with the addition of a small rose or rose bud. A similar one of blond lace or tulle with a flower or two of delicate shape and hue placed with such delicacy and tact as to appear rather to have fallen on than to be fixed. Hats of blue tulle ornamented with primroses are very elegant. VARIETIES.--In négligé evening dresses or family parties, long black thread gloves are worn, edged with lace ruches. Black lace barbes are freely intermixed with coiffures in flowers, thus we may frequently observe branches of roses caught up at the side by black lace nœuds the ends of which fall on the neck. Sometimes in the middle of this nœud is placed a papillon of diamonds. These coiffures may be made up ready for putting on the head; some very beautiful ones have been just seen at a noted modiste in Paris: some of our own houses doubtless have them now. The coiffure is for the most part very plain and simple tortillons or plaites placed low and in the front, Clotilde or English bands, flowers or precious stones are added to relieve the plainness, in the manner most conformable to the taste of the wearer. A garland forming a cordon round the head and descending in tufts on each side of the face is very general. Flowers, ribbons, precious stones, velvet, mixed with gold are among the various materials of which they are made up, intermixed very frequently with blond barbes. Pieces of gold, pearls, diamonds &c are among the most frequent hair ornaments. Lace caps are also retained by them. They are placed sometimes in the Clotilde and other tresses, sometimes in tufts of ribbons. MATERIALS AND COLOURS.-Besides the rich satins, gros de Tours, moires &c. of every kind for evening dress, we observe the tulles so light, vapory and elegant, crapes lisses, gazes perlées, which embrace a great variety of all the various fabrics suitable for the several toilettes. The Ginevra is a fabric but just introduced, it is a silken tissue very light, supple and brillant, admitting the most choice and lively patterns, and having a very elegant fall in the folds. It is thought that an equally favorable reception will be secured for it as for Challis. The striped silken fabrics called Pekinets have suc. ceeded to admiration for promenade dresses more es pecially. The stripes in some are brought very closely together, and in this case a narrow embroidery is in troduced. In those which are large and wide apart a design of several shades is between each. DESCRIPTION OF THE PLATES. PLATE 1. FIGURE 1.-EVENING DRESS.-Crape dress, corsage half high mounting, with a deep draping of narrow folds at top, sleeves bouffanted at the upper part in three rows, and hanging loose and full below the arm. A double satin ruche proceeds from the ceinture down the front of the skirt figuring a tunic. The hair is embellished with ribbon and lace ornaments. FIGURE 2.— RECEPTION DRESS.-Gros de Tours dress, the upper part of the corsage having a mantilla ornament of the same, the ceinture pointed; sleeves close with a lace sabot. Lace cap with barbes. FIGURE 3.-OPERA DRESS.-Satin dress, made with sleeves tight to the elbow and full and pendant at the lower part, corsage slightly sloped in front; a deep laced flounce with scolloped border. Full satin cloak bordered with martín Turban of crape and satin. FIGURE 4.-BALL DRESS.-Muslin dress, corsage sloped much downward in front, furnished in the centre with a nœud, sleeves formed of blond, sabots not reaching further than the elbow; an embroidered lace flounce, with a narrow heading of the same, is caught up at the side by a row of small ribbon bows with long pendant ends. Coiffure ornamented with feathers. Hats of velvet and satin, ornamented with flowers and lace embellishments. Caps of blond and velvet, the latter bordered with a pearl beading. PLATE II. FIGURE 1.-CONCERT DRESS -Poult de soie dress, tight fitting corsage, surmounted by a mantilla of the same with a deep scolloped blond fall ornamented with two nœuds; the skirt made plain with a wide biais piece round the bottom, a ribbon spirally twisted reaches from the ceinture to the flounce proceeding obliquely. The beret hat ornamented with feathers. FIGURE 2.-EVENING DRESS.-Mousseline de laine dress, draped in a full fold over the upper part of the corsage with a row of flowers running through the centre, terminated by a large one; the skirt which is very full is ornamented with a deep blond flounce round the border, another, narrower and laid on fuller, traverses the skirt higher up in the wreath style, and is caught up at intervals by bouquets. FIGURE 3-CARRIAGE DRESS.-Challi dress, the corsage made in a very similar style of draping to that which has been already described; the sleeves composed of a continuation of bouffans to the elbow; a row of ribbon bows proceeds from the ceinture down to the hem forming apron. The beret hat of velvet is ornamented with a twisted feather two long lappets hang from the coiffure. FIGURE 4.-EVENING DRESS.-Foulard de laine dress, the draping of the corsage finished in front by a nœud; a rouleau in a double row proceeds from the ceinture in the first instance figuring apron, but one being longer than the other and catching up and retaining the outer skirt in graceful folds. The hair is ornamented with feathers and flowers. The hats are in figured silk, velvet and satin, with feather and flower ornaments. The very elegant one in the middle of the upper row, turned up in front and embellished with rows of pearls and a bird of paradise feather. PLATE III. FIGURE 1.-EVENING DRESS.-Pekinet dress, the corsage ornamented with satin cross-pieces, running parallel from the upper part, and diminished down. wards, causing the side pieces to take the form of a V; a tulle trimming is slightly gathered, forming a mantilla ornament, and edged with a rich scolloped blond; the ceinture is peaked and fixed by a brooch ; the sleeves tight to the elbow where they terminate, are ornamented with a deep blond ruffle and small nœud. The coiffure is ornamented with a bouquet, into which a twisted feather is attached. FIGURE 2.- RECEPTION DRESS.-Crape dress, high mounting corsage, with epaulette sleeves, ornamented in the lower part with a bouffan, noeud with long ends, and blond ruffle, peaked ceinture; the flounce laid on full, headed by a wide piping, with nœuds at regular intervals, raised up at the side, and terminated by a bouquet and bows; an embroidered tulle fichu is fixed with one lappet over the other. A petit bord, edged with lace, and ornamented with a garland of flowers, completes the coiffure. FIGURE 3.-EVENING DRESS.-Mousseline de laine dress, the corsage draped; short sleeves, formed of a bouffan and sabot, with work designs appliquée similar to those on the dress; the skirt is caught up at the side, having an under dress of satin, the border has a lace edging; a lace fichu, with scolloped edging, is tied across the neck. Tulle cap, with bonquet and fruit. FIGURE 4.-DINNER DRESS.-Challi dress, the corsage cut very low, with a blond edging, prolonged upwards to the throat; the skirt is full, and ornamented by a double flounce headed by a rouleau, and having small nœuds with ends at intervals. The cap of blond embroidered, has long lappets and bouquet or naments. Hats of velvet and satin with feather and ribbon ornaments. Tulle cap and back view, ornamented with bouquets arranged as a garland and swan's down ornaments. PLATE IV. FIGURE 1.--BALL DRESS.--Lisse Crape Dress. Draping round the upper part of the corsage, fixed in the middle by an upright narrow band. The sleeve is formed of a couple of bouffans rather loose and pendant; the tunic with a bias border; turban of velvet and tulle. FIGURE 2.-OPERA DRESS.-Dress in damas brodé, mantilla edging of blond, the sleeves tight and short with lace ruffles; an embroidered flounce, with a tulle heading, in which is inserted a colored ribbon. Hat of satin and paradise feather, a gold lace ornament is placed beneath the brim. FIGURE 3.-CARRIAGE DRESS.-Crape dress, half high mounting corsage, with a frilling of the same laid on full and a triple fold bordering the top; sleeve with a double ruffle at the elbow; the tunic bordered with the same frilling. Hat with feathers. Petit bords in satin with ribbon ornaments and gauffered lace. Blond caps and hats of poult de soie with feathers and ribbons form spiral ornaments. |