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Still, on his return to Munich, he was at first careful and reserved; but the temptation around him was too much for his weak character. He had travelled and seen the world, which was then a far greater recommendation than now. He had adopted the easy nonchalance of Paris, and mingled it with his own sparkling wit. His former marked peculiarities were moulded down and softened; his intellectual powers developed ; his opinions formed and fixed.

This

He avoided Caroline as much as possible for a long time, but her affection soon outbalanced his prudence, and ere long both had fallen. was the beginning of evil. From that moment, the demon of vicious indulgence could number Herman Von Ritter in his train.

The Countess Von Dornheim soon retired to the Tyrol alone. She was on the same terms still with her husband, who had stormed and fretted till he found it useless, and then like a prudent man, rather than publish his own shame, had returned to his former life of bloated bachelor-hood. Your friend was now born, and was brought up in the old castle in the Tyrol, whither Caroline returned for some months to educate her own dear child. I would I could have done the same. The calm of the country and the sight of nature's grandest aspect soon worked a change upon her. She repented her fall, and was eventually reconciled to her husband.

I cannot bear to tell you of my own reckless descent. I was also partly the victim of a system of forced and unnatural marriage. I had uttered a Vow against my own conscience and I could never keep it. Von Ritter too became worse and worse. We drew together; but our intrigues were at first confined to politics. was still, however, attached to him, and ten years after his return to Munich I had ensnared him. Beatrix --Beatrix whom you love, was our child.

I

She paused here. We stood in the dark street, each burying our feelings in the dead silence of the night. length she continued:

At

"You can imagine the rest. Herman took our child under his own roof, and her innocent, lovely face gradually recalled him to a sense of his own sin. In a few years he was

a reformed man, and he passed his time in forming and working out schemes for the good of his fellowcreatures. He became one of the most useful men in the capital. The people respected and loved him, and his power augmented till it became even dangerous. He now worked out his old theories, and all his energies were turned against the very vices in which he had at one time taken so prominent a part.

"Beatrix was the only one of my children that I really loved, and in my better moments I was wont to go and see her. She never knew I was her mother, however, for I had not the courage to tell her. She was brought up to believe that her mother was dead.

"At length Von Ritter wrote his celebrated Utopia.' It was filled with liberal ideas, which the conservative and despotic spirit of the Government dubbed as revolutionary. I confess I thought them dangerous myself. At any rate he was ordered to leave the country quietly, and the book, when too late, was suppressed. It was now in my power to succour him. You will ask me why I did not do so? I reply, that my whole life since has been passed in regretting my neglect of him. I had, indeed, cogent reasons at the time. Our connexion had long since for about twelve years-ceased. On his side a coolness had succeeded, followed by disgust at what he called my open licentiousness, but which was really my reckless attempt to drive away the phantoms of my crimes. He had, indeed, never reproached, nor even reproved me; but at length he had striven to recall me delicately to a sense of my folly, and this had irritated me.

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Moreover, Beatrix was growing Inquiries would naturally be made as to her parentage. I dreaded these, for Von Ritter's liaison with me had hitherto been artfully concealed from my husband, who suspected him, and hated him more than any other of my many lovers; for he knew that my affection for him was of a deeper and truer nature. Lastly, I was afraid, even had I been willing to do so, to intercede for one who could never be forgiven.

"Herman left Munich without a reproach, and the story is finished."

We were standing as she spoke beneath a solitary lamp, which was swung on a chain across a broad street. It was nearly burnt out, but by its light we could still distinguish to our left the old, rambling, ricketty palace of the Electors. There was a broad, black arch close at hand, and the step of the weary sentinel rang on the pavement beneath it.

I was so much overcome with the horrible, truly horrible revelation, that I stood absorbed and silent for many minutes.

"And who are you?" I asked, at length, remembering my position and my companion.

"Give me your hand in token of eternal secrecy," she replied. I gave it her.

"You vow you will not utter a word of what I have said till after my death.

Then I shall care little who knows it. Even to Beatrix you must maintain a strict secrecy. But you will make her your wife: you will cherish her and defend her against an unjust world.”

"On the honour of an Englishman," was my reply.

She drew the mask slowly from her face, retreating backwards as she did so. I bent forward, and by the light of the dying lamp, I could distinguish the now pale, though too often bloated features of the Electress.

* * * * * * * *

*

* *

We were not many on board the steamer, but by the time we neared Coblentz, we were all intimate acquaintances. I for one was ready to embrace every one I met. I felt so buoyant and happy as I approached my longed-for goal, that I could not understand why some around me were gloomy and sad. I had not left Munich without extracting a promise from many influential friends, and from the Electress in particular, that they would do their best to have Von Ritter recalled from exile. Armed with this, I looked with certainty on the issue of my journey. Beatrix would scarcely repulse her father's deliverer, and my only fear was that I should find her married in my absence. I soon crushed this fancy in its cradle, and revelled in the delight of winning and owning the lovely, the almost angelic Beatrix, with her golden locks and her dark blue eyes,

I lay in the forepart of the vesselfor it was a fine day in March, almost as soft as a May morning-and as I gazed on the old shells and ruined towers of many a feudal castle crowning the dark river's banks, I was proud within myself that the possession of her I loved was worth them all.

We stopped at Andernach, with its beautiful old tower at the water's edge. A single passenger came on board. He was an old fellow-student from Bonn.

I embraced him in real student fashion, and ere long we had taken mutual notes of our respective wellbeing and whereabouts for the last two years.

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Come, old boy," said I, "you look gloomy to-day. This is no moment for thinking of some pretty little maiden, though I well remember that you were generally love-sick in the good old days of yore. What is the meaning of it ?"

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Why? Yes,

by the way, I heard that all the vil lage at least I think so-all the village had been attacked. But, come! what's the matter? Have you any relations there?"

I made them put me out at Braubach. I left my luggage there, and hiring a small pony, jumped upon it, and dug my heels into its side.

I did not draw rein till I reached Niederlahnstein; then, as I trotted over the stones, the beat of the pony's hoofs re-echoed with a dull sound through the deadly silent street. Good God! the angel of destruction, the great avenger, had been there in

very truth. From every cottage the dread black flag was hanging. The shutters of most of the houses were closed. There was not a sound, not a soul in the street. A hungry dog, that was prowling about, started away as I rode past, as if I had been a demon. Horror-stricken, I quickened my pace, till I alighted before the professor's house.

I jumped off, and leaving the panting beast to take care of itself, ran through the open gate. The housedoor, too, was ajar. I pushed through, and hurried up the stairs. The professor's library was there just as I left it, just indeed as I had seen it, the first time chance had brought me thither; but now it was empty.

The high-backed chair was in its old place. For a moment in my confusion I seemed to see the dignified and noble figure of my old tutor seated where I had so often seen him. I looked nervously towards the window-it was open as usual, and there was the chair that she always sat in ; was it really her figure now, or mere fancy? No, the favourite robin was there, with his scarlet bosom ruffled, and an anxious look for his old mistress; but the two chairs were both empty. The great book was open as of old, and strange indeed, fresh flowers-wild field flowers, such as she always loved-were thrown upon it. I scanned the page. It was

turned down over those eternal words of comfort.

But what hope could I gain from this? The flowers indeed were fresh, but what hand had placed them there? I could not stay in this anxiety. I rushed through the house -every room was the same as everI could scarcely believe it was so long since I had left it; but every room was empty.

Still I had hitherto abstained from entering Beatrix's bedchamber. It was a sanctuary I had never dared to violate. I well knew where it was, for at night I had often strolled down to the garden to watch her shadow pass across the muslin curtains, and to be happy in the mere knowledge that it washers. I mounted, trembling with an unacknowledged dread. I knocked gently at the door. But even that light sound rang echoing through the gallery, so silent was the house. I Knocked again more loudly. Even

my heart stopped beating to catch the faintest answer. None came.

Slowly and fearfully I opened the door, and stopped a moment ere I dared to look in. A dreadful apprehension had taken me. My first look was towards the bed. I thanked God that it was empty. I had almost expected to see-a corpse. A long, slant beam of the setting sun lay upon the ruffled sheets. Some one had evidently been sleeping there lately. This revived my dying hope. On her little table lay the books that we had read together. They were all closed and neatly arranged. Then there was the little white toilette, with its simple garnishment. could not have left the village, for here were her brushes,and a few long golden hairs were still in the comb. Yes, her spirit seemed still to hover there.

She

I rushed to the open window, and called aloud through the garden, "Beatrix! Beatrix !" The opposite hill of Stolzenfels took up the sound, but that was all.

Maddening with this suspense and doubt, I rushed again into the long street. Mine host of the Crown would know something of them. Alas! the old inn was shut up. Shutters and doors were bolted, and I called in vain. Perhaps his race too was run, and he was gone to a world where no steamboats would come to trouble him.

Then I sped from house to house. Most of them were shut up. Those that were open were desolate. The black rag still waved in front of each, for the simple peasant had believed in the contagion of the dreadful scourge.

At

I passed rapidly along the street from house to house. I would have given all I possessed to the first man I met, but there was not one. length, as I mounted the steps of a cottage, I heard a deep sad groan. I hailed it as I would have welcomed laughter. I flew up the stairs, and burst through the door. Here I was checked; a double scene of horror was before me. On a bed in a corner, lay the groaning form of a dying boy, and by his side sat the haggard figure of his mother, wringing her hands in despair. She had not heard me enter, though I had made much noise, and I listened a moment to her bitter wailing,

"Oh! God, they call thee the God of mercy, and I know thou art so. But wilt thou forget thy character now? Wilt thou take my only child? It cannot be. Thou canst not be so cruel, so very cruel-my only son, and I a widow-my only friend on earth. Oh! Father, take me as well, if it must be or rather take my life for his."

When she ceased, I approached her softly.

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"Can I aid you, my good woman ?” I said, scarcely knowing what I meant. Away, away!" she cried, not turning to look at me, but stretching her lank hand angrily out. “Are you so hungry for the dead? Have you not sated your vile hands with corpses yet? And will you rob me of my only one?"

Then becoming suddenly calm, she continued :

"Wait but a little, for heaven's sake. My good friend, my dear friend, there must be still some one to bury. Come again in half an hour. We shall both be dead then, and it will save you trouble to take us both away together."

I turned away horror-stricken. At the door I met the dreadful deatheart. A priest, himself half dead with fatigue, was on the threshold with the sacred elements, and the crucifix was borne by a haggard wretched-looking peasant. Another drove the surly bullocks which dragged the common hearse, a mere open

cart.

I told the priest that the boy up stairs was still alive, and then hastily asked after Von Ritter and his daughter.

"I cannot tell you," he replied indifferently. "I have been here but a short time, for our good old pastor died some days ago, and I came from Coblentz to take his place. I believe that Herr Von Ritter died a fortnight ago of the same dreadful plague."

"And his daughter-his daughter?" "I know not, I at least have not buried her. We are all dead here. The whole village is dead."

I turned angrily to the haggard attendants.

"You knew the Fraulein Von Ritter," I said. "You must know what is become of her? Speak."

"She is gone, I think," said one sulkily.

"Gone? Where? What do you mean? Not-not-dead?"

"No, left the village. How should I know ?"

I could learn nothing more from the poor wretches. In serving the dead, they seemed to have forgotten the living.

I turned away in despair. As I went, a thought struck me. I held up three bank notes. The bribe was high.

"This to the man who will find the Fraulein Von Ritter."

A ghastly laugh passed over the faces of the three.

"Of what use will that be to us tomorrow?" said one. "It will not buy us from the cholera."

"Nor purchase us a coffin," said the other; "for there are none to be had."

For a moment my knees trembled with anxiety. Then becoming desperate, I ran to and fro about the street, crying aloud: "Beatrix, Beatrix, answer me; where are you? Are you dead, Beatrix? Are you gone? Answer me; answer me !"

The weary hearsemen did not seem to heed me. They had grown callous to death and grief, and they sat on the door-step, with their heads between their hands, as if nothing were going on.

I

At length I grew calm, like a drunken man recovering. "I will seek her through the wide world," I said to myself, and I meant it. But I would first take a long look at all the old and well-loved haunts. turned from the village, and mounted towards the castle of Lahneck. The air revived me as I went; and at length refreshing tears came in a full stream, when I thought that my old friend was dead. Too late, too latehe was gone where he could dispense with the promised return to his native land. He had returned to the common country of all of us, whence there was no banishment; to the true Utopia, where the great light of real philosophy blazes, like the sun in the heavens. Little would he care now for the wild hills and rich plains of Bavaria.

Goodbye, old friend-goodbye, best of philosophers. A long repentance has well washed out your old sins-sins of love too. Your Father has a fatted calf and a noble mansion

in store for you. Go, friend, and stand before Him.

I walked calmly now towards the turret on which I had first seen her white dress flutter. The spirit of the castle was not there now. I looked down upon the view below. There, steeped in the red of the dying sun, stood the broad stout tower of Saint John's, where we had sat together among the neglected bells, and looked out upon the Rhine.

"Flow on, proud heedless river! Flow on for ever. Our feet have ceased to tread thy banks. Her laugh will never more be echoed o'er thy careless stream."

I entered, as I spoke, the roofless hall of the old castle; a hall, on the stones of which had once clanged the long spurs of knights, or my lady's light foot had trod, like flies on gossamer. Chivalry and romance had fled it for ever, and the cockney tradesman from a city of black chimneys and iron roads could enter now, where he would once have stood uncapped, and bowing on the threshold.

Involuntarily I uncovered my head as I entered the temple of the Past. There was one side where probably a breach had been made. A large window, as it were, had been opened down to the floor. Stunted shrubs

gap,

and wild weeds stopped up part of the while the heads of tall pines peered from the gulf beneath. Outside this window, the rock broke off into an abrupt precipice, and beyond was a view of the lahn and the rapid which had brought me to Niederlahnstein. I knew this spot well, for we had often sat there together.

I turned towards it now, and perceived a dark, female figure watching the sunset. I stood for a moment, with my hands clasped. In the next she turned her face, as beautiful, as perfect as ever-and now, an angelic calm and resignation lay upon it, "Beatrix !" I murmured

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I need scarcely tell you how my father cut me off, without even the customary twelve pence. His will was altered; I was forbidden his presence for ever. I grieved for his foolish severity, and we both prayed that time might change him.

Von Ritter had left his daughter the little cottage, and about fifty pounds a-year, his long earned savings. We could not bear to stay in Niederlahnstein. So we came here, where in the great city I could earn bread for us both, and remain unknown. When we can afford it, we shall go back and pass the rest of our days on the banks of the gentle Rhine.

MEMOIRS OF MRS. FITZHERBERT. *

THE ten years immediately preceding the French Revolution are in many respects the most interesting in modern history. A variety of causes contribute to make them so: one of which undoubtedly is that men yet survive who were beyond the age of boyhood at a time when the inhabitants of Europe as little dreamed of the state of things we now see around us, as the mariners of Greece dreamed of the compass and the steam-engine; men who dwelt in literally another world from that which we now inhabit-whose every thought and association sprang from a soil which has been totally washed away-men familiar with a generation to whom

Jacobitism had been formidable, and for some of whom the white rose still preserved its fragrance: to whom the sword was still the emblem of the gentleman-and who grounded their right to govern upon it :-a generation which was infinitely more free, hearty, and unconventional than our present aristocracy, for the best of all reasons, that no doubt of their own position ever crossed their minds, and that they troubled themselves no more about the possibility of popular insurrection, than we do about an insurrection of our domestic animals. It is this astounding unconsciousness of the impending catastrophe; the gorgeous and imposing and durable

* Memoirs of Mrs. Fitzherbert; by the Hon. Charles Langdale. Lond.: Bentley, 1856,

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