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Not as one sadly kept at Heaven's portal, Miss Bernard's early history, needs only to be reThrough weary years, –

minded, that, though perhaps essentially selfish in Not through long trials, called to be immortal; all the phases of her character, her taste for splenBut without tears.

dor and fashion, and her appetitite for wealth, were In the deep silence of my strong affection

qualities superinduced on a temper originally pasI miss thee still,

sionate and romantic. In her short conversation

with Henry Austin, she had caught glimpses of Yet meekly own, through all my dim dejection,

high intellectual power, while the readiness with Our Father's will.

which he had periled his life for her safety, afIf, 'mid the glory of that world above me, forded incontestible proof of those moral qualities, One thought may dwell

which woman's instinct teaches her to seek in him On her, who, on the earth, had learned to love thee who is to be her protector and the master of her Wildly and well;

fate. She had not so entirely renounced her deIf through the rapture of thy seraph-singing,

signs on Harlston, but that her first thought, on disOne glimpse may steal

covering Gertrude's relation to Henry, was to avail Back to the earth, its tearful record bringing

herself of her knowledge in furtherance of her Of all I feel;

original scheme. Nothing was easier than to de

prive the Colonel of all hope, perhaps all wish, 10 Then ask, in mercy we may not be parted be the husband of Gertrude, and it might be to reThrough years to come ;

store her to the object of her first love. That But pray our Father, that the restless-hearted

Henry had been her earliest choice, she could May soon come home!

hardly doubt. She had seen too much not to susJANE TayloE WORTHINGTON. pect, that the poor girl had other and deeper cau

ses of grief, than the mere pecuniary difficulties of her family. The clandestine correspondence gave

an intimation of the character of these ; and now, GERTRUDE.

that she had discovered that the correspondent was one, whom any woman might love, whom a very

prudent mother might not wish her daughter to [Copyright Secured.]

marry, but who had had the best opportunities to We doubt not that our readers will readily pardon us for make himself acceptable to the daughter, she could the late interruptions of Gertrude, when we assure them not doubt, that the relation between Henry and that they have been unavoidable; and inform them, that it Gertrude was not very widely different from that, will be concluded for the present in the next Messenger. which the reader knows to have existed. There is a sequel to it, which the author may some day present to the Public, if they desire to have it.-[Ed. Mess.

But the events of the last few weeks had done

much to disgust Laura Bernard with the husbandCHAPTER XXIII.

hunting policy, to which, under her mother's infla“I now clearly perceive, Oh Cyras, that I have ence, her life had been devoted. She had not actwo souls.” Such was the exclamation of the In- tually loved Harlston, and she had experienced dian Prince, who, having betrayed the confidence much mortification in the pursuit of her object. of his benefactor, reflected, in remorse and amaze- The wound her pride had received at the hands of ment, on that something within him, which had Ludwell, required a peculiar treatment. Should overcome the promptings of his better nature. she meet him at any future day, how effectually

There are few people in this world who have would he stand rebuked at seeing her the wife of not had a like experience. In those who are not a man recommended solely by his merit, and aidall evil, such a conflict is always going on; and ing and encouraging her husband's efforts in purnone are so sensible of it, as they in whom the good suit of honorable independence, by the same deprinciple habitually triumphs. But besides the votion which she had once felt for him! How, on strife between appetite and reason, which rages in the other hand, would he sneer and taunt her with the breasts of all men, there is another antagonism, her success, should she indeed succeed in captivawhich we we find in those who have received one ting a man of great wealth. He himself was the character from nature and another from education. only man she had ever truly loved; and the only Miss Bernard was one of these, and, though it anticipations she had ever cherished at all adequate rarely happens that the work of art is more per- and congenial to her ideas of happiness, had been fectly accomplished than it had been in the train those which accompanied her engagement with ing of that young lady, she was fated to prove that him. In this respect, all the training she had unNature, bury her as you may beneath mountains dergone, and all the intercourse with the fashionaof habits and conventionalities, will occasionally, ble world, had nerer wrought an effectual change Enceladus-like, shake the mind as with a moral in her tastes. She had always felt, that no man, earthquake. The reader, who knows so much of destitute of certain qualities, a part of which Lud


well undoubtedly possessed, and the rest of which is a nine-days' wonder, and, with their names, is she had fondly attributed to him, ever could be to presently forgotten. her the object of that deep and passionate devotion, These were her thoughts as she bent over him in which the heart rests satisfied and asks no while he slept. When he awoke and opened his

large, calm, observant, thoughtful eye; when she Bot of all men on earth, he was now the most hate- heard his rich mellow voice, with its measured caful to her, and her mind ever brooded over the vow dence, distinct articulation and tones hardly less of vengeance, which she had uttered at their part- varied and flexible than her own; when she ob. ing. But how to be revenged? In the distant served the mixture of frankness and relenue in his land to which he had been sent, he was entirely manner, the freedom with which he spoke of himbeyond her reach. But might not something be done self, as far as his situation made it necessary to do through her, in whom he took so deep an interest, and so, and his silence as to all beyond that, and, above on whose account Miss Bernard herself had been all, his care to avoid any allusion to his gallant feat, treated with insult and outrage? Perhaps she did not or to his sufferings, and the ready dexterity with permit herself to plan any positive mischief against which he parried any remark of her’s pointing topoor Gertrude; but she could not endure the thought ward that subject, she felt convinced, that she saw of her happiness. To see her the wife of Harl- before her one well worthy of that highest reward, ston, rolling in afluence and glittering in splendor which the heart of woman burns to bestow on him was bad enough. But to see her happy in the who has perilled his life in her service. arms of the man of her choice, the first and only Full of such thoughts, Miss Bernard spent the night man she had ever loved, and sharing with him the in wakeful impatience for the return of light, eager comforts and honors of an independence won by to resume her place by the bedside of the suffering his own exertions—might not this be more intolera- hero of her waking dreams. But here the caution ble? In the actual condition of Miss Bernard's of the prudent mother interposed to admonish her, mind, the latter picture presented to her the most that all present danger having disappeared, there satisfactory idea of happiness ; and she had felt, could be no sufficient excuse for her presence in more than once, since she left Washington, that, the chamber of a young man confined to his bed. could she again meet with such a man, as she had She was condemned, therefore, to restrain her imsupposed Ludwell to be; could she win his heart, patience for some days, her fancy meanwhile dwelland make him all her own, she would renounce all ing on the highly wronght image that agitation sordid views, and, throwing herself down the stream and excitement had stamped upon her mind. Henof passion, share with him her little fortune, and ry's merit must have been great indeed, if he lost ask nothing in return but a place in his heart, and any thing in her estimation, by the interruption of an interest in his hopes of wealth and fame. their intercourse, when, in her imagination, he was

Might not Henry Austin be such a man? In thus represented. I must leave to the fancy of my very gratitude she would have it so; and her imag-female readers the task of painting the images that ination had been already employed in decorating fitted before her mind in the mean time. him with all the attributes of a hero of romance. In his letter to his father, Henry had been careThe generosity with which he came to her res- ful to mitigate his uneasiness, by assuring him that cue; the readiness with which he conceived, and his hurts, though painful, were not at all danthe boldness and vigor with which he execu- gerous, and that he was in the hands of a good ted his plan, were ever present to her mind. surgeon and kind nurses. The consequence was, His figure, as in the moment of her extremest ter- that the Doctor's affairs requiring his presence at ror he had appeared to her eyes, was continually home, ten days or more elapsed before he found before her, with all the lineaments and bearing of leisure to visit his son. By that time Henry was a knight of the round table, or a paladin of the in condition to sit up, and receive a visit from the Court of Charlemagne. She had scanned his fea- ladies in his own chamber. Miss Bernard had as tures as he slept. They were noble and symmet- yet found no fit occasion for hinting at her acquainrical,--the broad, fair brow, the finely chiseled nose, tance with his family, and her late sojourn at the the thin nostril, the short curled lip of that precise house of Mrs. Pendarvis. She was curious to outline, which first suggested the form of Cupid's see the effect of such a communication, and she bow, these were the indications of spirit, gallantry was impatient to make it. But she could not apand genius. Then came the broad, strong under-proach the subject, even in thought, without expejaw and chin, betokening energy and indomitable riencing a degree of agitation unaccountable to herfirmness. He was certainly born 10 greatness. self. In her mother's presence, she could not venTrue she had never heard of him. How should ture upon it; and the old lady was never long enough she? The down of his cheek had hardly given absent from the room, to give her time to screw her place to the light brown whisker that shaded it. courage to the proper pitch. She would have been sorry to have had him one The Doctor's arrival put an end to her perplexof those precocious youths, whose early cleverness'ity. The ladies were sitting with Henry when he


was announced, and immediately withdrew, that self, Like Angelica with the wounded Medoro, their presence might not embarrass the meeting of she was averse to the thought, that any eye but the father and son. Soon afterwards they return- hers should watch over him, that any hand but hers ed, and Henry saw, to his surprise, that his father should minister to his comfort. She felt that his at once accosted Miss Bernard with all the cordi- claim to her gratitude was absolute and exclusive, ality of established friendship.

and the idea of some sort of reciprocal claim on Have you heard lately from our friends at him was the natural consequence. With her own Washington ?” asked the Doctor, as soon as the consent, she would never have been absent from form of presentation to the old lady was over. his side, and no want or wish of his would be for

Not since I saw them., You, I presume, have a moment unsatisfied. This readily extended ilnews of them, and I hope that Mrs. Austin and self from his bodily sufferings, endured for her my kind friend, Mrs. Pendarvis, and dear Gertrude sake, and which it was therefore her duty to soothe, are well."

to the manifest anguish of his mind, in which no “Gertrude has been quite ill,” said the Doctor. thought of her was mingled.

But even in infancy, “She was suddenly attacked with fever on the woman learns that there is a healing balm in her tenth of the month, and for some days was thought lip, and in the same spirit in which she kisses her to be in great danger, but is now convalescent." Jittle brother's hurts to make them well, does she

This intelligence was of course received with find her heart drawn out, at a more mature age, every manifestation of concern and sympathy, but to shed the balsam of its love upon the wounds of the feelings of the young lady were not so deeply those in whose sufferings she takes an interest. engaged, as to prevent her from observing the ef- In this spirit Miss Bernard waited impatienily fect of this intelligence on Henry. The blond, for some opening for conversation on the subject of which hastily mounted to his cheek at the name Gertrude, but Henry made none. Between bim of Gertrude, instantly retreated, leaving a paleness and his father it was no more mentioned, in her far more livid than that of disease. She saw that presence, during the short stay, which sufficed to he shaded his brow with his hand, and bowed his satisfy the Doctor, that the health and comfort of head with an expression of suffering, which his un. his son were well cared for. When he went on to suspecting father might readily have attributed to Washington, Miss Bernard was much alone with pain. She observed, too, that he did not ask any her patient, and diligently exercised her varied talparticulars, and took no part in the conversation. ents to relieve the weariness of his confinement.

Perhaps it was a case of family discord: the In this she was eminently successful. Henry was very common case of coldness between a step-son full of admiration of her beauty, her accomplishand his father's second wife. But there was too ments, her powers of entertainment, and her never much emotion for that, and indeed the Doctor soon railing cheerfulness, set off as it was by occasional dispelled all such ideas.

and well-timed manifestations of deep sensibility, I suppose,” said he to Henry, "you have writ- and an ever ready sympathy in his sufferings. ten to acquaint your mother with your situation. That all this was genuine, he could not at all She heard of it first from me, and is exceedingly doubt. That voice, in all ils tones—in all its inanxious about you. Indeed I half expected to flexions, so true to every sentiment she uttered, meet her here ; though I fear poor Gertrude has could not be mistaken. It was the very music of been too ill to be left."

high thoughts, refined feelings, and delicate sensi“ I have not yet been able to hold a pen,” said bility. Henry, not removing his hand from his face. His But though the admiration of Henry was awautterance was distinct, though his voice was cho. kened, and the ledium of a sick chamber much reked, and a writhing of the body, which might be lieved, a decp gloom seemed settled on his mind, the effect of pain, accompanied the words. So the which all Miss Bernard's talent and address were Doctor understood it, and forbore to press him with vainly tasked to dispel. It sometimes softened further questions ; though, on the point of asking into a tender sadness, but never for a moment why he had not again used the pen of an amanuensis, brightened into cheerfulness. The tact of the who would doubtless have been glad to serve him young lady soon discovered that all attempts at in conveying intelligence of so much interest to mirth, however kindly taken, were unacceptable. her particular friends. But Miss Bernard herself He smiled, indeed he sometimes laughed, but the had doubtless written, and Mrs. Austin must know smile was ghastly, and the laugh unnatural and all she could desire to know.

wild. To pass from misery lo mirth was impossi. Miss Bernard had done no such thing. She ble. All that could be done, was to wile him away felt, she scarce knew why, unwilling that Mrs. from his own woes, by inviting his sympathy to Austin and Gertrude should know any thing about those of others, or presenting softened images of the matter. The presence of the Doctor himself sorrow, and thoughts congenial 10 wretchedness seemed almost an intrusion on the mysterious plea- less intense than his own. In this Miss Beroard sure she began to feel in having Henry all to her.'succeeded, and she had the satisfaction sometimes

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to see a tear quivering on his eye-lids, accompanied of passion, he encouraged her to pursue the strain. by a smile devoid of mirth indeed, but yet seeming He endeavored to give her all his sympathy,—10 to indicate, that the heart was not all withered, enter into all her thoughts, to respond 10 them in a nor hope forever dead.

songenial spirit. In this he succeeded so far, that All this time she found herself unaccountably the deep, sad tones of his voice would sometimes restrained from touching on the subject uppermost tremble with emotion, and his eye would glisten, in her own mind, and, as she believed, in his. It and his pale cheek would catch a momentary glow, might have occurred to one less absorbed than Hen- and his words would pour forth in a strain of elory, that there was something strange in her for- quence that went directly to the lady's heart. The bearance to allude to the only common friends of effect with him indeed was momentary, and folboth parties. Could this be from a suspicion of lowed by that collapse which“ leaves the flagging the real state of his feelings, and a delicate regard to spirit doubly weak.” With her it was more enduthem? No such question occurred to Henry's mind. ring. The conviction every day became deeper and Indeed, in no way were Miss Bernard and Gertrude deeper, that Henry Austin was the most giftedassociated in his thoughts. The former bad enti- the most estimable—the most amiable of men. tled herself to his esteem, friendship and admira- What was there in her past life of which she tion. But the latter, as he remembered her, stood thought with regret or shame, that she might not alone an object like no other upon earth. As she have escaped, had her lot been blended with that of now was, he could only think of her in amazed per- such a man? And how could she doubt, that a plexity, incapable of comprehending the change of kind providence had at last sent him to redeem her her conduct, but on the hypothesis of some incon- from the errors of her youth, and make her the esceivable mistake in regard to his. Was it possi- timable and happy being, which, in her romantic ble his letters had not reached her? No. Was it moods, she felt formed by nature to become. possible that any one had misrepresented him to “Facilis descensus"-but I beg pardon of the her? No one. No one! Was it possible that one ladies for intending a quotation from a Latin poet, so pure, so disinterested, so simple in her thoughts, which does but express the hackneyed truth, that habits and wishes, had inhaled, in the first breath it is much easier to slide down hill, than to climb of the almosphere of fashion, a taint infecting her up again. He insinuates, moreover, a belief of not whole nature, and producing a very gangrene of much value as being that of a heathen, but which the heart ? He was incapable of conceiving such a unfortunately amounts to positive knowledge in change. What then? Did she indeed love another, this enlightened age, that the road to hell is preand that, as it would seem, almost at first sight? cisely of this character. The poor wretch, who, This was the only imaginable hypothesis ; but even relying on his own strength, endeavors at any time this left him at a loss to understand her conduct to to retrace his steps, is apt to find some rolling stone him, who, if no more, had a claim to be considered under his foot, placed there, perhaps, by his own and treated as a brother. Perhaps she shrunk previous lapse. Miss Bernard was certainly a wofrom the task of disclosing to him the change of man of many high and admirable qualities, and had her feelings. She might have felt the difficulty of her first step in life placed her in the same position explaining it by words, and thought it best simply to toward such a man as Heory Austin, the impresmanifest the result by her acts. Perhaps she sion made upon her character might have rendered thought to mitigate his sufferings, by giving him her an honor to her sex. But it was now too late. cause to think of her not with love, but resentment It was in vain that the generous sentiments she was and disgust. This might be so. The embarrass- in the constant habit of uttering, without feeling ment of her situation must account for the want of their force or truth, were now echoed back to her delicacy and decorum with which the affair had been from the lips of one whose every word entered into managed. Instead of cultivating the angry feel- her heart. It was no longer in her power to act ings he supposed her to have wished to inspire, his on the impressions made. How could she, utmost ingenuity was tasked, to devise excuses and when her first duty must be to unravel the web she palliatives for her conduct. It was all kindly meant. had assisted to weave around poor Gertrude, and He was sure of it; and it was his duty not to re-open wide the door to explanation between her and quite this kindness, by any act, or word, that might Henry. Of their mutual attachment, she had no add to her distress, or mar her bliss. He remem- doubt. She now saw plainly, that had she left bered his vow. His life was pledged to her service, things to take their natural course, Gertrude would in whatever way fate might enable him to serve have been no obstacle to her designs on Harlston. her, and the great effort of his mind was to subdue But she could not now even regret her error. She himself to the necessary temper for the fulfilment could no longer conceive, that success in her darof this high duty. In this effort he availed himself ling scheme could have been desirable her. Still much of Miss Bernard's aid. Whenever, in the less did she repent it. On the contrary, she almost varied gamut of her conversation, she struck the persuaded herself that her evil had been providenkey of high romantic sentiment, of tenderness, or 'tially overruled, and made instrumental to her own good, and that to interfere with this wise and beneficent purpose of Heaven, by disabusing Gertrude's mind, would be presumptuous and almost REMINISCENCES OF A TRAVELLER. wicked. In some sueh way, she may be supposed to have reconciled her conscience to a course of Our visit to the crater of Vesuvius, proved less conduct, which she felt to be inevitable. When we fatiguing than we anticipated. After an early have decided that we are unequal to the effort breakfast, one morning in 18—, we proceeded from which duty demands, the most paltry excuse is Naples to Portici, (4 miles distant,) in carriages, often sufficient to silence the voice of self-reproach. and there devoted an hour to Herculaneum. ImSo it was with Miss Bernard : and while under the mediately over this buried city, stand the villages influence of Henry's society, her mind struggled of Portici and Resina, and to ensure their safety, to free itself from the clogs that held it down to by strengthening their foundations, the excavations earth, she felt herself dragged down into the very beneath them have been so filled up, that only a deepest abyss of crime. She had no choice but to very limited space remains to explore, and an exsurrender him forever, or to carry out to its most tensive theatre is the sole building left exposed to fatal consequences, the deception, of which she had gratify modern research, or curiosity. Of this, been, at first, the inconsiderate and almost unwill. the stage, orchestra, and seats, are of stone, and ing instrument.

in full preservation. In one of the lobbies, we [ To be Concluded.)

plainly discerned, on the hardened lava, an impression of the lips, nose and eyes of a face, pro

bably that of some statue. To enter this neiber region, we traversed the cellar of a house, and

passing through a low duor-way within it, followed AUTUMN

a winding and narrow passage, which descended

gradually into the earth, and terminated in the res"Tis a beauteous time,—when the summer sheen

tibule of the theatre. Our waxen torches cast a Hath passed away from the forest green,

yellow glare over every countenance, and added And the proud old woods, like an Indian bride,

to the solemnity of the scene--it was something Have decked themselves in their gorgeous pride; like the procession of ghosts in “Macbeth.” DanWhile the fleecy clouds, in their radiant dyes,

ger, too, seemed impending, as we listened to the Have decked with beauty the burning skies,

thundering roll of carriages in the streets above Like a banner flung by the day-god back,

our heads, so that we were fain to finish our toor To mark with glory his shining track.

of inspection, as expeditiously as possible, and re'Tis a mournful time,-when the stricken flowers turn to sunshine and our inn. There, both anAre drooping low in the faded bowers,

noyance and amusement awaited us-at least a And the leaves, that sigh to the sad wind's breath, dozen stout Lazzaroni greeted our approach ;Are tinged with the hectic hue of death ;

each had a donkey, saddled and bridled, which he When the linnet's song, and the robin's lay urged us to take, lo convey us to Vesuvius, and Have died from the lone, dim woods away ;

loudly proclaimed its merits and the excellence of And the breezes sing 'mid the leaflets sear, its gear, at the same time decrying the property of A mournful dirge for the dying year.

his comrades. “Oh,” said one, “mine is the

strongest, the swiftest, the surest! and the saddle 'Tis a holy time--when the soul is fraught

is almost new—there is none here to compare to With a spell of sweet and mournful thought;

it,--and see, it is the only one lined with red, (a When the heart's long troubled waters lie,

favorite color with the Neapolitans,) the others As a sleeping wave 'neath the summer's sky;

are scarcely fit to carry a Signora.” In fact, I When yearning dreams to the spirit come,

thought they would have pulled us to pieces ; for Of the sweet repose of the quiet tomb;

in their eagerness to obtain employment, they acAnd visions bright to the soul are given,

tually seized hold of our dresses and arms. At Like glimpses sweet of a native Heaven.

length, we contrived to make a selection, and 'Tis a beauteous time,--'tis a holy time,-- moved off in cavalcade, amid the triumphs of the The sweet, still days of the autum n prime; favored, and, for onght I know, the maledictions of When Nature, sadly and meekly fair,

the rejected. The saddles were large and comforSeems bowed with awe at her silent prayer ;

table, and bordered on the right side and behind, And well may man, from his pride beguiled, by a ridge several inches high, stuffed and lined, A lesson learn from her teachings mild,

for the purpose of supporting the rider when asGo forth to the dim and solemn wood,

cending a steep hill, or mountain. On reaching And there commune with his soul and God. the Hermitage of San Salvadore, which is just

Susan. half way up Vesuvius, we alighted and refreshed Henrico, Va., Oct. 1845.

ourselves with some of the far-famed Lacbrymæ

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