"Well, my son," said the old priest to his companion, as they proceeded together towards the Hof Gardens, "what progress are you making with that pretty sinner? I heard you lecturing her about her heresy as I came in." "I find it hardly possible to overcome her prejudices; it will be a much more difficult task than you imagine." "If it be 'hardly possible,' and you are making no progress, you had better give it up; your own duties Von Feldheim turned pale, and his eye fell under the somewhat distrustful look which the priest fixed on him; but he answered, without apparently heeding that he was interrupting the reverend gentleman : "I have promised her uncle to win her over to the true Church; with God's help, I hope to succeed, but it will be a work of time. Her feelings and her pride are at war with each other. If I can conquer the pride I shall soon master the feelings, and then all may go well. cousin is a sad stumbling-block." The "The cousin-yes, she is as stiff-necked as an unbelieving Jew. I wish she were— -in purgatory!" "I am trying to persuade the countess to pay a visit to my sister, her old friend. Once within the walls of a convent-who knows—she might -enthusiastic young women-indeed, all enthusiasts often pass from one extreme to another-she might even take the veil." The old priest rubbed his hands, and chuckled with pleasure at the idea. "Bravo, my son! If your influence could achieve that, you would deserve a crown-not of martyrdom, but of glory." "Alas!" thought Rudolph, a crown of martyrdom, or even of glory, could hardly reward the sufferings of my soul. How little you-narrowminded, common-place, passionless old man-can conceive the tempest of my heart! Oh, that I could tear from it this sinful idolatry! this hopeless, this mad love! Heavens, dare I confess it even to myself? What is she, and-what am I? Oh, Bertha! would I condemn you, in the spring-time of youth and beauty, to the cheerless seclusion of a convent? Yes, yes, a thousand times, rather than see her the wife of some happy heretic rival. Rival! Oh, holy Virgin !" They had walked on for a few minutes in silence, when the priest, who had been settling in his own mind that Bertha should become a nun, exclaimed: "Yes, an excellent idea! Get her into a convent if you can. I don't hear in this little gossiping Düsseldorf, where everything is discussed, that she shows a preference to any of her admirers; they say she refused Count Wilhelm Stolz the other day, and he is a heretic like herself. Of what use can her large fortune be to an old maid, or a young one either? She might make it over to the Church; and, after all, this would be only an act of justice, for her grand-uncle, Count Franz, intended his property to go to the Church; unfortunately, he omitted making any will, or leaving any testamentary document to that effect, so that graceless heretic, his brother, the grandfather of the Countess Bertha, got it all. The Von Altenbergs remained staunch to the Church at the period of Luther's heresy. Why should not this girl, the last scion of that ancient house, return to the faith of her forefathers ?" "Why not, indeed?" sighed Rudolph. "See to it, my son," cried the old priest, as they parted near Ananasberg, the elder man to assist in arranging a religious procession through the streets on some saint's day; the younger one, to plunge into the solitude of the darkest walks in the Hof Gardens, there to commune with his own unhappy spirit. V. AGATHA AND ALPHONSE. BUT was the Agatha so affectionately remembered by Bertha indeed a happy nun? Had she no worldly recollections, no "one green spot in memory's waste," to which her thoughts would sometimes wander back? No well-spring of feeling-hidden deep, deep in her heart, the cold waters of which, if accidentally stirred, would murmur of hope that once was bright, of joys that might have been? Alas! there are secrets which the soul hides from every prying eye; secrets to which the sensitive pride of woman impels her to lock up in her own breast, dreading lest a wound, painful enough in itself to bear, should be cauterised by the scornful, jeering pity of the world. When the affections have been trifled with, and the trusting simplicity of youth has been deceived, the heart's task must be to seem not to feel. The deceit, when such has been in question, which has ruined the victim's peace, must be practised by her towards whatever society surrounds her. Who shall say whether she will suffer more in constant collision with the rough world, or in the quiet seclusion of the cloister? If the ill-treated and disappointed girl who flies to a convent is to be pitied, so certainly is the girl who is obliged, by her position in life, to enter into gay society; to dress and dance, to be lively, and to seem amused; and worse than being a nun perhaps it is to be forced by circumstances to marry a man whom she may dislike-to keep a constant watch upon herself to live a life that is a lie! The minds of men are so differently constituted to those of women, that they get over disappointments of the heart much more easily; and they do not care so much about concealing them, for gentlemen are not so much laughed at as ladies are when they are jilted. In fact, in everything in which the cold dicta of the world-or rather of society-are concerned, ladies come off worse than gentlemen. It has been related that when the widowed Countess von Altenberg determined to take her daughter Bertha to England, to be far removed from her uncle, the abbot of St. Dreux, and his influence, she had placed her young charge, Agatha von Feldheim, at a school at Brussels, where she was to remain for two years. That period had expired, and Agatha had become a parlour boarder at the school; but it was not a pleasant situation for her, and she thought she would be more comfortable if she went to reside with some relations of her mother who had recently settled at Brussels, and who were willing to receive her into their family for a moderate remuneration. It was about this time that her guardian's widow, the Countess von Altenberg, wrote to invite her to England. But the invitation, given against her own wish, merely to please her daughter, was coldly worded, Jan.-VOL. CXXX, NO. DXVII. D and, indeed, evinced so little real desire for her company, that Agatha could not fail to perceive how unwelcome she would be to the countess. And though Bertha's warm and affectionate letter, entreating her to join them in London, was very soothing to the wounded feelings of the almost friendless orphan, she determined, much as she wished to see her early companion again, not toi ntrude upon one who seemed to care so little for her as the countess evidently did. Exaggerated reports reached Agatha and her brother, from time to time, of Bertha's gaiety in London and Paris. They heard how much she was admired; they were told that she was devoted to society and amusement; and they fancied that she could only remember the impoverished friends of her childhood with a sort of pitying kindness, of which it was painful to their proud spirits to think. It must be confessed that the abbot of St. Dreux did his best to foster these feelings in Rudolph's mind; and as he infected his sister with his unjust suspicions of the distant Bertha, she gradually dropped a correspondence that she fancied might be only looked upon as a sacrifice to good nature, or perhaps a bore. Agatha was also not quite dependent upon Bertha's continued affection for her happiness. She had found a very kind and charming friend in one of her schoolfellows, a Belgian girl whose mother resided in Brussels. Mademoiselle de Florennes was a year older than Agatha, and, immediately on leaving school, was married to a Dutch baron, who generally lived at a château he possessed near Louvain, and which he preferred to another and larger domain that also belonged to him in his native Holland. The young Baroness Vanderhoven, and her somewhat elderly but very amiable husband, were both very partial to Agatha, and she was often their guest for two or three weeks at a time. Pleasant days these were to her, and doubly pleasant when Alphonse de Florennes, the only brother of the baroness, joined their little coterie. He was a strange creature, made up of contradictions, but extremely clever, and very fascinating when he pleased; only, however, when he pleased, for he could be extremely disagreeable, and his manner was usually nonchalant, if not supercilious. He could be extremely amusing, and had very original ideas, but he was often satirical, and habitually capricious. He was very handsome, and dressed well, yet he never seemed to pay the least attention to his own appearance; in short, he was a creature made up of contradictions. Sarcastic, witty, clever, vain, Yet careless of himself-refined On common matters looking down, He liked, and thought it worth while pleasing. Whom few resemble 'neath the sun.* His sister, the young baroness, was passionately fond of him, and he was much attached to her. Their mother was proud of both her children, for Hortense was as handsome as her brother, but of a more even temper, and not apt to live in the clouds, as he did sometimes. Madame de Florennes, however, was a common-place person, with no elevation of mind, and not at all intellectual like her son and daughter. She was quite a woman of the world, strict in observing all les bienséances of society, and faultless in her dress, which was, indeed, a study of more importance in her eyes than any science could have been; she knew, to a nicety, the quantity of rouge suitable to one a little on the shady side of life, and never wore any colour or costume that was not becoming. She had got her only daughter well married, and was anxious to find a good parti for her son-a search which he allowed her to prosecute, though he did not even take the trouble of discussing the subject with her, or canvassing the merits of the objects in question. Madame de Florennes wished her son to be married from selfish motives; for she hoped that, as un homme de famille," he would put some curb on his extravagance, which was at times not a little inconvenient to her. 66 His sister also wished Alphonse to marry; but her anxiety was to secure a happy home and agreeable domestic ties for him. She certainly had never thought of her friend Agatha as a sister-in-law, for she fancied that she was not brilliant enough to please her excitable brother; but she was delighted to find that Alphonse seemed to like her, and to take pleasure in her society. Agatha, though lively in conversation, was no flirt, and she did not take any pains to attract the attention of Mr. de Florennes, therefore he was the more willing to pay attention to her, and to make himself agreeable. After having met each other frequently during some months at Baron Vanderhoven's château near Louvain, and after having been a good deal together in Brussels, the intimacy between Alphonse and Agatha seemed to have assumed quite a decided tone, but it was not until a later period that the éclaircissement took place. Early in the autumn, Baron Vanderhoven and Hortense proposed an excursion up the Rhine, on which Madame de Florennes, Alphonse, and Agatha were invited to accompany them. Great was Agatha's delight at seeing again the well-remembered bridge of boats at Cologne, and the "academic groves" of Bonn. But the far-famed Drachenfels was to her the place of the greatest interest, for it was in ascending it that Alphonse laid aside his usual air of badinage, and told her of his love for her. Hortense, her mother, and husband, had gone up on ponies, but Alphonse had begged Agatha to saunter up the hill with him, that she might have more time to admire the varied foliage of the trees that skirted each side of the winding road which led to the ruins of the castle above, and the glimpses caught here and there of the blue Rhine sparkling beneath. Truth to tell, however, neither the trees nor the river were admired as * Journal of a Tour through Belgium and on the Rhine. they ought to have been by a sentimental German damsel; for Agatha only saw the handsome expressive countenance of her lover, as she drank in the melody of his voice, and allowed herself to be half supported by his encircling arm. And Alphonse! He felt then that the wildest solitude would be a paradise with the lovely girl, whose purity of mind and sincerity of affection he could not doubt. It was very long before they reached the top of the hill; and they found Madame de Florennes, who was not blessed with a patient disposition, very fidgety, and much inclined to scold them for loitering, as they had done, on the way up. But Alphonse half knelt so playfully at her feet to sue for pardon, and kissed her hand so gracefully, that she could not but abandon her ill humour. She did not seem to suspect, however, that anything particular had taken place during the tête-à-tête; but the more clear-sighted Hortense observed, at a glance, the traces of emotion on the features of her brother and her friend. She and the good baron were rejoiced afterwards to hear of their engagement, for Agatha had accepted Alphonse, while his mother secretly lamented that he had not selected some richer, or at least more fashionable young lady for his wife; but she made no opposition to his choice, probably well knowing that opposition would be of no avail. No travellers could ever have enjoyed a trip up the Rhine more than Alphonse and Agatha did; they saw everything en couleur de rose, and they found Baden-Baden, as it had been described to them, a little Eden, with its beautiful walks and picturesque drives. Alphonse only wished that they could have had the place to themselves, but it was very full, and people of all nations crowded the saloons of the Conversation House. VI. 66 AMONG the English visitors at Baden-Baden was a young lady who was said to have a very large fortune, and at her own command. Her chaperone was a widow, who, having lived a good deal abroad, spoke French and German, and who seemed anxious to enhance her own consequence by spreading about the report of her young friend's wealth. On her authority it was rumoured that Miss Wells was possessed of 100,000l. Of course she had no lack of admirers, for Baden-Baden generally abounds in fortune-hunters. But Miss Wells did not seem to care for those who fluttered round her; she wanted to make a conquest, and the homage of all these French, German, and English admirers who swarmed about her, had been too easily won-it was her money, not her they worshipped. She envied Agatha the one solitary cavalier who seemed devoted to her, and was piqued that he would not swell her train. Alphonse did not admire Miss Mary Wells at all, and always called her "the Iceberg." She was more like a statue moved by machinery than a creature of life and impulse. Her figure was tall, but somewhat angular; her features were faultless, but their total want of animation prevented her from being beautiful. She was as cold and pale as white marble; her very eyes had, in general, a stony look; she wore a set |