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they last, and we forget them when they are over."

“Such are exactly my feelings,” replied Charles. “I would not for a world vegetate through my being like a cabbage the only two epochs of whose existence are its planting and its cutting down."

“ Well then, you are a Frenchman," said the count; and thinking he had paid him the highest compliment that language could afford, he rose to take his leave; but ere he went, inquired after Mr. Wilmot's hand, in which he had received the point of his sword. - Charles informed him, that though very painful, and a good deal inflamed, the surgeon had told him that it was not likely to be attended with any serious consequences; and the count cordially express

ing his happiness that nothing more un- pleasant had been the effect of their quar

rel, left the young Englishman with a much more favourable impression of his

character

character than he had been at first willing to receive.

CHAPTER XV.

To you alone I sing this mournful verse;

To you whose softened hearts it may empierse
With dolours. If you covet it to read,
And if in you found pittie ever place,
May you be moved to pittie such a case.

SPENCER.

The History.

CHARLES Melville passed the next morning in the same manner as he had done the day before, in every thing that could drive away reflection. The baroness had required time to think; but he was resolved not to think, and he succeeded tolerably well.

There are perhaps few of us, even of the VOL. I.

M

wisest wisest or coldest of mankind, of those whose passions are the best regulated, or their feelings the least strong, who have not, at some period of existence, found moments when the consideration of the future, or the examination of the past, has been too painful for endurance ; and who, labouring under that mental cowardice, common in some degree to all the human race, have turned with apprehension from the pictures that thought importunately offers, and been glad to interpose the pleasures and distractions of the world between their judgment and themselves. There are few who have not done so, and those who have, must know, that fly from her how we will, reflection must at times overtake us, and though she holds us but for a moment, the stings she inflicts are doubly painful, and only aggravated by our efforts to escape. · Though in the riot of very strong passions, untamed by any disappointment, and unaccustomed to the government of

reason,

reason, Charles Melville seldom thought, and now less than ever was inclined to indulge it, when it only gave him pain. His heart was too feeling, perhaps too suscep. tible, to allow him uninterrupted peace, even in the midst of gaiety and amusement, when he knew that the path in which he was treading was in direct opposition to the wishes of all those most dear. to him. Nor was he clear in regard to his feelings towards the baroness: he admired her- he was infatuated with her; but his mind sometimes for a moment would turn to England, and to one he had left behind, with sensations of regret that he' would not allow himself to indulge.

At length, however, the hour approached when he was to see the fair German again; and perhaps he never before took such pains with his dress, or was so little satisfied with his appearance. Nature had contributed much; but Charles had never been a puppy before that night, and in consequence, he was rather later than he

M2

intended

intended when he descended to the saloon.

“You are going to the baroness, Charles, I see, by your appearance,” said Mr. Wilmot, with a smile, as he entered the room : " that is a subject,” he continued, more gravely, “ on which I wish much to speak to you; but I will not detain you now, for you are rather late.”

The colour was somewhat heightened in Charles's cheek; but saying something of course, and wishing Wilmot good evening, he descended to the carriage, and was soon borne, with a beating heart, to the hotel of the baroness de S .

She had something like tears in her eyes as he entered the room where she sat, and seemed to have been thinking over the events, of other days.-“ Melville," said she, holding out her hand to him, “ I am going to tell you my history to-night. But sit down, and let us talk of other subjects till we have taken coffee, and then I will try to get through it as well as I can."

Before

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