-making that, as it were, a tangible substance; rooting its fibres in the "Men have died and worms have eaten heart, and interweaving them with the them, But not for love." So saith the poet ! meaning by his speech not men in a generic sensenot mankind at large, but only the males of the genus homo. Shakspeare, perhaps, was right in regard to men, but had he spoken of women he would have told a different story. Love indeed, is "the worm i' the bud," which hath devoured the life-germ in many a female bosom, leaving only a frail and hollow shell for Death to crush between his iron fingers. Truly hath Byron said, that "woman's love is a fearful and a dangerous thing," for it is both mystical in its birth and perilous in its being. It maketh realities out of a shadow. It linketh things unsubstantial with things real, until they become part of woman's very being; making that which is in its nature an essence incorporeal" VOL. I. (24.) 66 very filament and texture of the brain. The personal memoirs of former times, not less than the periodicals of our own day, are rife with records proving this. But one of the most extraordinary instances of misplaced affection clinging to its object until reason was extinct, is one which, though often repeated in society, has never yet, to our knowledge, found its way into print. We allude to the singular story of Miss ***, (the Effie Gay of our tale,) the niece of that eccentric old Tory, G**, of Nova Scotia ; who, after emigrating to New-Brunswick during the revolution, made himself so conspicuous in our courts of law, when he returned to recover some forfeited estates, about the year 179-. The estates, to recover which Mr. G. embarked in such expensive litigation, were claimed only in behalf of his son, to whom they had been devised by the will of his maternal grand 2 B father. With regard to the identity of this son there were strange surmises abroad, from the moment he landed with his supposed father in New-York. It seems that Mr. G., when he retired to Nova Scotia at the breaking out of the revolution, had carried his two orphan children with him for their native city. These were a little girl, and a boy still in petticoats, and one of them never reached their destination. The child was lost overboard at sea; and when the vessel landed, the provincial papers announced the melancholy loss which Mr. G. had met with in the untimely fate of his only daughter. Such a misfortune, one would think, were enough to gratify the vindictiveness of Mr. G.'s enemies, at least for a season; yet there were many who had the malice to whisper doubts as to which of the two children had actually perished. "It was easy amid the confusion of the times," said they, "for one leading so unsettled a life as G., to find, in his various journeyings, some male infant of similar age, which he might readily substitute for the lost heir. He had then only to keep the daughter out of the way, and his fortune was made." This gossip, however, was soon swallowed up by more exciting themes; and when, years afterward, Mr. G. appeared in New-York with a handsome youth of eighteen, whom he called his son, there were a few who hinted that the boy was his only by adoption, and that Mr. G. had done what history proves has often been attempted in the assertion of higher claims than his —namely, to pass off the son of another as his own. Young Ludlow G., so was the youth called, was not the less popular, however, on account of such surmises, if they did exist. He was a young man of exceeding beauty and accomplished manners, with a voice gentle and soft as a woman's, and an eye brilliant with all the fire of opening manhood. His, indeed, was just the union of qualities that most readily captivate the female fancy. He had that high flow of spirits which is often mistaken for talent in youth, and which is generally so attractive to those who are thrown much in the society of the fortunate possessor. This constitutional blessing gave him agreeableness, which those who know more of the subject than we affect to know, aver is all-important in pleasing the sex. But agreeableness, however it may entertain, is not the quality to interest a woman, and young G. had another arrow in his sheaf, which, perhaps flew the farther from being seldom shot. There was at times a shade of sadness about him-a melancholy so deep and absorbing, that it made the subject of this altered mood differ for a season not less from himself, than he did at other times from all around him. This, as the cause of the depression was wholly unknown, threw a veil of mystery over his character, and completed the list of lover-like qualities which are the source of so much bede. vilment to girls of nineteen; and nineteen was just the age of Effie Gay, when for the first time she became acquainted with her all-conquering cousin. Some female writer has said that none of her sex reach the age of sixteen, without having had at least one affair of the heart, If there were ever an exception to the rule, it was in the case of Effie Gay. Love, like wonder, is half the time the child of ignorance. It is an exhalation that springs from young hearts, and settles upon the nearest object, however unsuited by character or "imperfect sympathies," as Coleridge expresses it, to inspire or to reciprocate true affection. Perhaps there is no greater protection against these idle fancies, than placing those who may become the subject of them early in the world of reality. Effie, as the only female of her father's family, had been thrown into society so early that she could hardly remember the time when she had not been surrounded by admirers. A petted and half-spoiled child of six or seven, she had often taken her mother's place, and sat in mock dignity at the head of her father's table; while, as a girl of twelve, she had habitually done the honours of his house during the time that NewYork was occupied by the British troops. Living thus in the very vortex of gay society, and surrounded by the handsome cavaliers, who are only known in the day-dreams of girls of her age, imagination had never a of such an intercourse when she was rallied about it by others, she always had an answer which fully satisfied herself. Ludlow was a full year her junior, and was therefore "a boy" with whom it was no harm to be upon the easiest terms of familiar acquaintance. Besides, was he not her cousin? a first cousin! and where's the harm of a good-humoured flirtation with a cousin-if flirtation it might indeed be called. Yet it was strange that Effie Gay did not like Cousin Ludlow to flirt with any one else but her! "What, cousin, you are not going to dance again with that horrid Laura T. to-night?" said she, pettishly laying her hand upon our hero's arm, as he passed her in a crowded ball-room. chance to act. She became habituated If Effie ever thought of the tendency to the compliments and attentions of the other sex before the feelings of womanhood began to assert themselves in her bosom; and the flatteries which had always been received as a matter of course by the forward child of twelve, made no impression upon the blooming girl of seventeen. Some dispositions would have been entirely ruined by such an education, whose tendency would seem to make the whole character artificial. It was not thus, however, with Effie Gay, whose candid and happy temperament resembled one of those easily raised plants that seem to flourish equally well in the conservatory or the parterre, adapting themselves alike to the free exposure of the atmosphere, or the measured heat of the forcing-house; and exhibiting all their characteristic properties in either situation. Such natures must be either very superior ones, or below the general standard. They are either so elevated as to be independent of circumstances, or so common that no training can much alter or improve them; and so far as mind is concerned, it must be confessed that Effie did not soar above the latter class: and yet, while the ill-natured observer might have confounded her with those of her sex whom Pope tells us "have no character at all," her fond and most unchanging affectionateness of disposition would, not less than her rare beauty, have entitled her to sit for the original of any of Byron's heroines but Gulnare. It was this affectionateness, this disposition to cling to, and rely upon whatever seemed loveable and reliable, that made Effie become attached to her cousin almost from the moment she knew him. The nearness of their relationship, united to the frank, winning manners of Ludlow, was an immediate passport to her confidence. The idea of regarding him as a lover she did not dream of, but they were friends from the moment that they met. There would, indeed, be occasionally some little interchange of lively sensibilities between them, but it could hardly be otherwise with two young persons of different sexes, that were thrown so continually together. "And why not, Effie? I am engaged to walk a minuet with Miss T., and you know it is impossible now to withdraw." Why you have hardly spoken to me yet to-night, Ludlow!" The youth answered only by taking a single flower from the bouquet which the beaux of that day wore in their button-holes, and gracefully placing it in the high head-dress of the pretty pleader. The next moment he took the hand of his partner, the band struck up the inspiriting Gavotte, and he stepped off in the featly minuet with an air that would have done honour to a courtier of Versailles ; while half pleased and half provoked, his deserted cousin looked on with the admiring crowd. This was but one of a thousand little passages between the cousins that marked the progress of a flirtation which soon assumed the appearance of a serious entanglement. And now one would have thought that some coolness had arisen between them, they met comparatively so seldom. The air of Ludlow, too, when they did meet, was absent and dejected, as he walked by the side of the radiant girl, who rattled away with all the thoughtless vivacity of a triumphant belle who has the preferred admirer of her train for a listener. Effie, however, had also her hours of listlessness, if not of dejection; and while her cousin lost his wonted flow of spirits when with her, she, on the contrary, seemed without any act of volition on his part, happy only in his society. Such an affair seldom proceeds far in any circle without there being many who discover its existence, and watch its progress with as lively an interest as if their own welfare were identified with that of the parties chiefly concerned. The two cousins, as time wore on, were not exempted from this disinterested surveillance; and manifold were the speculations about the termination of their loves. There was that in the conduct of Ludlow which puzzled the most acute of these gossips. In the first place, they were certain that he must be conscious of possessing the affections of the guileless Effie, whose heart was reflected too faithfully in her speaking countenance to admit of the concealment of its feelings. Ludlow, in the course of six months, must certainly have found out what, in the first six weeks of their acquaintance, was apparent to every one except the lovely and unconscious betrayer of her own gentle emotions! Why, then, did he not claim the hand, when the heart was beyond all question his own? True, he was very young, and the difference of ages not being in favour of the lady, might make his youth an objection when thinking seriously of matrimony! But yet, when fortune and circumstances seemed to remove every real obstacle, why should such fancied impediments be allowed to prevail? They might become engaged at least and supposing even that they waited until the family lawsuit was decided, they had still some years of youth to spare, and his cousin's means were sufficiently ample if the cause were decided against Ludlow and his father. But then, again, did Ludlow love Effie? Did he seriously return her attachment; or, if requiting it, did he give up the whole tide of his heart, in all its warmth and fulness, to this one only object? it seemed impossible to tell how far his feelings actually did go. If he thus loved her, there was something unaccountably irresolute, not to say inconsistent, in his conduct. The capricious youth certainly preferred the society of his cousin to that of all other women. Though not apparently enjoying it, he always courted it; or rather, almost he seemed to find himself constantly near her. He had been seen to watch Effie with more than a lover's solicitude, when some of the gay and dissipated young men of his acquaintance hovered round her in society. He listened when they engaged her in conversation, and her slightest tone of kindness filled him with strange agitation. Still, on the other hand, he allowed the most trivial engagement to take him from her company; and it was observable, that, though often, of his own accord, addressing Effie in terms of affection, he never returned any of those little endearments-attentions, perhaps, we should rather call themwhich a guileless girl cannot help showing toward the man of her choice when deeming herself secure of his affections. It was remarked, too, that none of the reports which were occasionally circulated about Effie and her other admirers-for she was still a belleseemed to awaken any jealousy in her eccentric cousin. He scrutinized every one who approached her in the guise of a lover-yet his watchfulness was more like the discreet care of an affectionate and considerate brother than the anxiety of an earnest and passionate admirer. But if he were not such an admirer, what became of Ludlow's honour as a gentlemen, what of his principles as a man, when he allowed a dreaming and fond-hearted girl to yield up her whole soul to him, in the delusive belief that he was all hers in return. True, he had never told Effie that he loved her. True, he had not even passed those trifling compliments-the light currency of fancyso often mistaken for the sterling coinage of the heart. Yet Effie treasured up a thousand little proofs of tenderness. Expressions which told, from day to day, how often he thought of her when absent-looks which spoke how much he felt for her when near. How often had she caught herself smiling in her heart, at what she believed to be the jealous mood of her lover as he watched her while talking with others, with that expression of sadness in his eyes which often betokens the overflow of a heart filled up with feeling. He watched her when he spoke not; and when he did speak, his voice took ever a softer tone, that surely was reserved for her alone! There had, then, been no moment when Effie had said to herself, "now, surely he loves me," for she believed in Ludlow's affection before she ever dreamed the question. Her trust grew from her own heart it was not founded upon his actions. She loved too sincerely to reason about her own feelings too devotedly to scan those of her lover. It seemed as if they were always meant for each other, and must of necessity be united; and so little could the doting girl conceive the void in her heart which bereaved affection might create, that she looked upon the love of her cousin as something belonging to her from the first, and of right exclusively her own. But the day was now at hand when all that was enigmatical about the character of young Ludlow G., was to be fully solved in the eyes of the world. Mr. G.'s long-protracted civil suit was at length brought into court. The trial involved a large amount of property, and the celebrity of the counsel on both sides had drawn together an unusual assemblage of spectators. It was said that HAMILTON would speak; and the name of that great man, already becoming as distinguished at the bar as he had been in the cabinet, had attracted a great many ladies to the court-room in the old City-hall. Among the most beautiful of these yet peerless in her own lovelinessmight be seen the happy and blooming features of Effie Gay. The court was opened, and the trial proceeded, exhibiting but little in its progress to gratify the expectations of the larger part of the audience, who became wearied with the dry and technical details which were minutely entered into by the old-fashioned lawyers, most of whom had studied their profession under the English regime. An incident soon occurred, however, which effectually dispelled the insipidity of this scene, and which can never be forgotten by those who were so situated as fairly to witness the whole circumstance. An exclamation of General Hamilton, (said the person from whom we had the story,) was the first thing that called general attention to what was going forward. Hamilton had as yet taken but little part in the conduct of the cause-leaving the drudgery, perhaps, to some less distinguished member of the professionwhile he reserved himself for the crossexaminations and the summing up. At a particular point of the testimony for the G.'s, however, he interrupted the witness upon the stand, by exclaiming, "That is only hearsay evidence-may it please your honour, (rising and bowing to the judge,) this evidence is inadmissible; let the young gentleman alluded to by the witness be himself produced in court." The remark created instant confusion upon the opposite side of the table, at which the counsel were sitting. Old G. bustled forward and whispered to his lawyer, who instantly rose and stated to the court that "the son of the plaintiff-the young gentleman alluded to-had left town the evening before, and as the point in question was quite unimportant, he was willing to waive it in behalf of his client, rather than have the cause delayed until the averment of the person on the stand could be substantiated by what he, the counsel, admitted was the only proper evidence." Mr. G., in the meantime, seemed much agitated, and forthwith despatched a note to Ludlow, who, notwithstanding the statement which had just been made in his name, he believed to be at the moment reading quietly at home. But his message was never doomed to reach that unconscious victim of parental tyranny and all-grasping avarice; for, even while the case in point was still under the advisement of the court, the name of young G. was pronounced by one of the marshals, who, with officious politeness, ushered him to a seat near his father within the bar. The announcement of the name caught the quick ear of Hamilton in a moment. "Let that young gentleman take his place on the stand," cried he, with great presence of mind, before his antagonist could recover from the infectious embarrassment into which the confusion of his client, at this untoward appearance, had thrown him. "Swear him, Mr. Clerk." The |
