his palid features, and the expression of deep melancholy with which they were impressed, would have warranted the belief that he was a rejected suitor. "I found my friend, her who had moved in courts, who was born to wealth," continued the countess, with a slight tone of bitterness, "the inmate of a miserable back room au quatrième, in "Beautiful as that maiden is, smiled upon and a narrow street: she who had from her infancy caressed as she is by all, she is not happy," said been lapped in luxury, was toiling for her daily the Pole. "Every now and then a cloud mars bread, her form wasted, her energies decaying, her the serenity of that fair brow, and dims the heaven health gone; and her child, too, bore the hungry of those eyes; and when it does so, the countess, pinched look of want. But no word of reproach, who appears to watch her with all a mother's love, of hate, or scorn, General Zilacki, ever passed those endeavours by a thousand efforts to chase the in-patient lips; she pitied and prayed for her hustruder away. What care can one so young, so pure, so lovely have?" The Frenchman smiled as he replied, "Why, in my opinion, she repents her of having dismissed her lover-yonder miserable looking mortal there; she suddenly returned all his gifts, and broke off the acquaintance on some silly feminine pretext, and now, I imagine, is sorry for it." "General Zilacki, will you give me your arm for a while? and I shall have great pleasure in introducing so distinguished an officer to my guests," said the soft rich voice of the countess. The general bowed and eagerly complied. "You appear to admire my sweet Helena," continued the lady; "did you ever see any one whom she resembles?" A deep flush overspread the sun-burnt weatherbeaten cheek of the soldier, and his eyes sunk beneath the calm light of the dark orbs which were turned full upon him. "I-she resembles one!-But why do you ask, my lady?" band; and when, on her death bed, she commended her child to my care, her last entreaties were that I would teach it to love its father, her last prayer was for his happiness." The General sank on the sofa, and buried his face in his hands, while his muscular frame shook with strong emotion. The countess looked on him, and a tear stole into her eyes. Presently he raised his head, and, meeting the softened expression of her countenance, said: "And my child-the living image of my Victorine!-may I not speak to her? Will she own as a father the destroyer of her mother?" The countess smiled almost sadly, and conducted her guest onwards in silence. They reached the door of a closed apartment. "I have a pic-grey morning was dawning when she awoke, and ture here which I wish to show you," she said, as she opened it and entered. The general followed; but as his eyes fell on a full length portrait which hung opposite the door, he rushed forward with outstretched hands, exclaiming, “Victorine !-my loved wronged Victorine." "That is the portrait of Helen's mother," said the countess, gently. "Victorine Duprez was my earliest friend, the companion of my studies, my sports, the sharer of all my pleasures, the soother of all my griefs: my first real sorrow was my parting with her, and my only consolation the anticipation of her letters. Years flew by, and in my distant German home, and the companionship of my husband, I was happy, too happy to note their flight. Often and often I wrote to Victorine, but receiving no answer, began to fear that she was dead an attack of fever robbed me of my husband, and, unable to endure the spots where we had been so happy together, I came back to Paris, and shortly took this villa. My first inquiries were after my friend, and at length I was fortunate enough to discover her; but I will not dwell on this part of my story." "Yes, yes; speak dear lady!" exclaimed the general, do not spare me one pang!-relate how you found her, deserted by the man who had vowed at the altar to cherish and protect her, by the coward who dared not face the ruin his vices entailed on her! Say she hated me, scorned and despised me-I deserve all, nay more than all!" "To-morrow, General, to-morrow you shall see her in private, and I trust you will find her all your heart could desire; but not to-night, for Helena is labouring under a depression of spirits occasioned by a dream or vision. Some weeks ago, on her return from a ball, she threw herself, tired and overcome, on her bed, and fell asleep instantly. This portrait then stood in her room, opposite the foot of her bed, and she was in the constant habit of addressing her prayers to the image of her mother before retiring to rest. The the first object which met her opening eyes was the countenance of her mother. Immediately, the recollection of her omission flashed across her; but you must know the pious affectionate tone of her gentle mind, to enable you to form an idea of how deeply she was affected by it. She was in the act of springing from her couch to repair, and entreat forgiveness for, her fault, when the picture form moved, floated from its place, and stood by the bedside. The shadow bent over Helena with a sad smile, and murmured: "Grieve not, my child, I am not angry; but let not this love of the world become too strong, for you will soon again be mine. At midnight, on your next birthday, we shall meet to part no more.' Helena believes that she swooned; but when she recovered her senses. all was in its usual position. I have vainly tried to persuade her that it was all a dream: she persists in maintaining that she was awake. I removed the picture, in order that its presence might not recall the fancy to her memory, and have spared no pains to amuse and employ her mind, and I hope with some success. This is her birthday, and I have arranged this soirée in order to occupy her thoughts, and have also put all the clocks on a quarter of an hour." While this conversation was going on in the cabinet, the ball had commenced. Helena led off the dance, and the others eagerly followed her. The young man whom we have before mentioned, however, mingled not in the gay throng; the air seemed to oppress him, as loaded with perfumes it fanned his heated brow; he passed out into the hall, which resembled a vast green-house, and from thence into the portico, where the cool night breeze seemed to woo the trees, as it whispered among their leafy branches. "Why, Albert, what are you doing here?" exclaimed a friend who had just arrived. "How is it that you are not dancing with your beauteous lady-love?" She is mine no longer; our engagement is at an end," replied the other, sadly. "What, Helena a coquette! Never, again, will I put faith in woman after this." 66 'Helena is no coquette. Listen, and I will tell you all." Albert then narrated the story of the vision, with which the reader is already acquainted. "Pshaw! I will not believe that she can seriously credit such folly; 'tis a mere pretext, Albert, to cover her own fickleness." "Charles!-but there, you always were a woman-hater, so rail on. You cannot shake my belief in Helena's truth. No, no; she loves me still; she will still be mine, if she survives that fatal hour. May heaven in its mercy preserve her to me!" "Well, well, I will even say 'Amen' to your prayer; and now go you into the garden, and cut a nosegay of the choicest flowers to present to your fair bride, as soon as the midnight chimes have rung. Let us see, it wants half-an-hour to the time you will just be able to do it nicely, and at the same time you can compose a speech wherewith to accompany it. Au revoir! I must go and pay my respects to our fair hostess." Albert lingered a few moments, for he heard the voice of the Countess pronouncing his name, and that of Helena: she came leaning on the arm of the General. could see that I thought her so, as I gazed on her dancing in a booth erected by her party. I will not trouble you with the progress of our ac quaintance; suffice it to say we met often, and I was pleased by the romance of the affair, by the simplicity of my inamorata, and her wild, childlike beauty and ideas. I believe she loved me, and I repaid her with presents and flatteries. I left Paris and the pretty Mina, and, to confess the truth, had entirely forgotten her, when the whole affair was most unpleasantly brought to my mind, by a visit from as ragged and ruffianly a fel low as one could well wish to meet with. He stated himself to be the brother of the injured Mina, called me a seducer, and various other pretty pet names, and wound up all by politely requesting me to marry his sister, or give him instant satisfaction. I could not help laughing at his modesty, and represented to him the absurdity of his conduct in the mildest terms; but he would not hear reason, and his horrid knife glittered before my eyes, and would have put a period to my existence, had not my servant providentially entered, and caught the fellow's uplifted arm. He withdrew, muttering curses and threats, which I shall save him the trouble of fulfilling by quitting Paris to-morrow. Even now I see his eyes glaring on me, and-my God! they are there again!" "Pshaw! 'tis only the dew-drops glittering on those roses," said the Baron. At this moment several merry voices exclaimed, "It is five minutes past twelve! Helena, come and look!" And a troop of lively girls drew her into the ball, and pointed to the clock. An expression of heartfelt joy lighted up the features of the lovely girl. "It was, then, only a dream!" she murmured. "Oh, my friends, life is still very beautiful, and I did, indeed, grieve to quit all I loved, "Ah, my young friend, well met! Allow me even though it was to rejoin my blessed mother!" to present you to General Zilacki. This, General, A bright blush radiated her countenance as she the-the gentleman of whom I was speaking." saw Albert at her feet, proffering his flowers, and The Pole bowed, and offered his hand to the uttering words of such deep tenderness and joy young man. "We shall, I trust, become better as love alone can prompt. The flowers were acquainted," he said, while the Countess whis-pressed to her lips, and placed in her bosom, and pered, "Courage, Albert! The time is at hand which will restore to you all which now seems lost. Helena is not changed!" They passed on, and Albert sought the quiet of the gardens, and plucked the fairest blossoms which glittered in the soft moonlight, to form a bouquet for the hands of her he so loved. Two others also passed out into the garden-Lord Diffroy and the Baron. "Yours is a strange tale," said the former; "but none but the vivid imagination of a girl could put faith in such things. Had she looked death in the face, as I have this day, and seen the tiger-like eyes of an assassin glaring on her, she would soon banish all visionary fears !" "How, my lord !" exclaimed the Baron. "Do you mean to say that you have been attacked by an assassin, here, in Paris? Explain yourself." "When I was here last year, I became acquainted with a young Bohemian girl," replied Lord Diffroy. She was very beautiful, and 66 raising him from the ground, she entreated him to forgive her for having caused him so much pain, and again to accept her hand and affections. Albert kissed her snowy fingers with delight, and the assembled groups murmured their smpathy "I will never part from these lovely flowers, murmured Helena, as she took her lover's arm "They shall deck my bridal, and be placed with me in my coffin!" Lord Diffroy and the Baron had drawn neat this group, and were listening with interest to al that passed, when the former suddenly grasped his companion's arm, exclaiming, "He is there!! swear that I saw his face, just there in the shade of the portico. See, again it is visible !" He started back, and mingled with the crowd, and at the same instant a shot was heard-a sligh scream-and Helena, who had stood exactly in a line with Lord Diffroy, sank lifeless in Albert's arms! The church-clock pealed forth the midnight hour; cries of despair and horror usurped the place of mirth and harmony. But who shall describe the agony of the young lover, the Countess, and the father, thus bereaved of his newly-found child? "That shot should have found thy heart, coldblooded Briton !" muttered the Baron," and not struck down that gentle maiden, who is the beloved of all." Three days after this Helena was laid in the cold grave: Albert's flowers rested on her bosom. The General Zilacki followed as chief mourner. "I was unworthy of such a treasure," he exclaimed, stretching out his arms as the coffin was lowered into the damp earth. "Victorine, thou art avenged!" In a few days he again departed to join his regiment, and with him went Albert, who hoped in the battle-field to find a speedy and honourable death. THE MAID'S REVENGE. She loathed the laughter of the young, The distant one-bis haunting voice Shut from her ear all other tone; The witch'ry of his smile alone Could bid her sullen thoughts rejoice, And words that fell from other lips To her were jarring noise. With absent mind she graced the hall, All glory she to him referr'd, All noble deeds of which she read, Gather'd in haloes round his head; Seas were between them, yet she stirred The flick'ring fire of memory, And conn'd his parting word. He changed-like many of his betters- And she, poor maid, left by the scoffer, She took the "first good offer!" E. A. H. O. THE TOILET. BY MRS. F. B. SCOTT. "Beauty when unadorn'd adorned the most." Cast the diamonds from thy brow, Draw a snow-white robe around thee, Turn thou to the antique glass, Ah, believe me, ladies sweet, For charms like these I see before me, No tear bedimming that sweet eye; Cast the diamonds from thy brow, What a momentous period is that in which we are first introduced to the world! What a train of circumstances it draws along with it! All our hopes, wishes, and imaginings date from that most important time; our first appearance in public, our entrée, our debût, all one and the same, they convey in after years to our hearts an undefined joy, mixed with sorrow, and how many of us are inclined to repeat the hackneyed sentiment, "If I could begin life again, how differently would I act," each and every one of us being in some degree disappointed in the bright, rosy dreams of happiness which we, with the sanguine anticipations of youth, thought we had only to enjoy when we please. But now, my sketch does not lead me to disappointments, for I have only to tell of what has scarcely passed, of the presentation at the Irish vice-regal court of one of its fairest blossoms, a youthful beauty from the West; "the beautiful wild West!" The drawing-room of 1843, held in January, by their Excellencies at Dublin Castle, (the first for the season) was, as every one is aware, most numerously attended; rank, beauty, and fashion lent their aid, and what more was necessary to make it brilliant. The place of royalty was filled by one who had been first in the list of court beauties, and who looked and moved a queen; many were the youthful debûtantes whose hearts beat in anticipation of triumph the night they would first make their appearance; but among them all, Catharine F-, shone the fairest. "She walked in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes, and starry skies." And she moved round her dressing-room with a proud step and a conscious glance in the mirror, when at nine o'clock they proclaimed her finished and perfect. She was, I have said, beautiful, and she knew it; but Catharine was not spoiled by praise or adulation; she had neither known nor lived long enough in the world for that, nor had her ear yet drank deeply of the "poisoned chalice," for she had met and mixed only with the select company of her father's house, though now it was decided she should be presented," and her father give a ball immediately after in honour of the event. Catharine was one to be liked and loved, as well as admired; gentle, affectionate, and her smile was the perfection of loveliness, it won, uncon sciously, what she did not value-hearts: she had never felt a joy or sorrow unconnected with ber own family; and the young and free often laugh at the solemnity of a lover, or the bare idea of constancy. In person tall, slight, yet exquisitely rounded, health beamed in the rose on her fair cheek; those blue eyes, so wild and flashing, and again so timid and cast down, fringed deeply as they were by the dark lashes, so that it was almost impossible to discover their true shade, and the long brown curls, with their rich golden tint, she was the personification of a poet's morning dream, that sunlike, glorious creature! Her Excellency having signified her wish that the ladies should encourage Irish manufacture, most of those who attended her court complied; and Catharine, like a great many other young girls, wore a dress of rich Limerick lace over white satin, a train of double watered tabinet, embroidered in silver shamrocks, and trimmed with lace and flowers, the usual court head-dress, point lace lappets, feathers, and pearl ornaments. When she entered the drawing-room where her father was waiting, with the wild spirit and heedlessness of youth, she exclaimed," Ready, Papa.” "Are you, my dear?" he answered, "Come here: Cathariné, till I see you close to me." Catharine walked up to him, not with the quick step of girlhood, but with the slow and stately movement of the elegant, polished woman, who had already been made acquainted with the formula of high life. Her father gazed, and his eyes smiled with pleasure at his favourite child; he looked what he did not utter-admiration of her glowing beauty-but he only said, "Catharine, you walk as if your heart would not fail you, but I expect to see you pale and trembling before very long;" he drew her hand within his arm, and led her to the carriage. Not a word was spoken while they proceeded slowly along the prescribed rout toward the castle, for the throng of vehicles was immense, and Catharine unconsciously leaued back, feeling, as she approached the gay scene, that it required more courage than she had imagined to raise her eyes before so many, and those who had for a whole life fluttered about a court; in such a case, could we blame the young debûtante for being timid and anxious? Which of us would not love and cherish a violet rather than an Iris ? The carriage, containing Catharine F― and her father, drew up at the entrance in the upper castle yard, and as they passed within the full blaze of light revealed her features pale; but her father, though he perceived, was afraid to remark it, lest he should increase her emotion. They were marshalled along, and in a few minutes were at the presence-chamber; here they gave their cards, the state steward called the names, and they passed on. Catharine then drew herself up, her cheek resumed its colour, and pride was visible on her brow. According to the ceremonial observed, they were obliged to pass singly before their Excellencies; and as Catharine glided on, many an admiring glance was fixed on that bright face. The Lord Lieutenant (as is usual) kissed the cheek of those who were presented for the first time, and, as he touched her's slightly, she grew even prouder, and moving THE PRESENTATION AT COURT. 289 "That is the hero of the bouquet, the Honourable Mr. Langton, an aid-de-camp, but you know him; now you must hearken to me, for you interrupted me just now. Do you know what brought me here to-night? to catch one glimpse of you, to hear one word, though it should be my knell : Miss F, I love you!" on, the chamberlain announced her to her Excel-rupted, as a handsome distingué looking man lency. Two young aids-de-camp looking on, passed them close, bowed and looked with expressaid one to the other, "By all that's young and sive eyes at Catharine. lovely, if it is not a shame to have that beautiful girl saluted by yonder old nobleman, when such fine fellows as you and I would give half our fortune to be allowed such a privilege; she is the only girl I have envied him with that kiss to night, and I flatter myself, if she only knew me, she would think rather well of me;" and with the greatest self complacency he stroked down his fashionably cut moustache; his companion laughed, while he answered, "Nonsense! she is as proud as Lucifer, and though very lovely, I could wish to see her whom we met the other less so she is Miss F day in one of the squares riding with her brother; Catharine joined her father and numerous noble “Mine," laughed Catharine, “I was sent so many that I could not wear them all, so I selected the most beautiful." "And who is the person so favoured that you Nay, you need not look a wear his colours? haughty defiance, for I recognize them; I saw in the Glassnevin gardens to-day choosing the purchaser of that bouquet, and he in particular asked for that geranium; I knew it was to grace some lady's hand, but I little thought I should find you the fair possessor." Why not?" asked Catharine, interested in spite of herself. "Yes, surely you may ask the question, for not One here may compete with the gem of the West, yourself!" "Don't talk folly-Who is that?" she inter "I am very sorry," said Catharine, proudly, that you should have told me so, but I do not love any one." "You were not waiting to know that till tonight," he answered bitterly. "No! you must have seen it by every word and action of mine, by the flowers I sent you—you read it." "Well, well! that was gallantry, now we will talk of something else: I am tired, I would like a seat." "Which I shall be most happy to procure Miss F," said a mellow voice from behind, and the hero of the bouquet stood beside them. Catharine blushed, for she was sure Mr. Langton had heard her answer to her companion; he joined at her other side, and they went toward a seat; with the greatest care he warded off the crowd, fearing a breath should approach too roughly, or an elbow come in contact with her dress, and he brought them to a place comparatively retired, and they took their seats on a lounger. "Miss F is not accustomed to the atmosphere of a court, that she is so soon fatigued," said the aid-de-camp in a half whisper. "No," answered Catharine," we wild Westerns are not so soon tamed, the freedom of our native mountains is perhaps better suited to us ; don't you think so? 66 No, not better suited, but the snow-drop that flourishes so exquisitely in its own soil, though it brings consolation along with it, hangs its head and droops in the bouquet: is it the less dear to us on that account? I have hailed your presence, Miss F― to-night, as the snow-drop of this assembly, and one of the few fresh blossoms that are to be met with." "Miss F," said the other attaché, (who had remained silent since Mr. Langton had joined them) "I will seek your father, he must be looking for you; and I will trouble you, sir, (addressing the aid-de-camp) to take care of Miss F for a few minutes." Catharine smiled as he went away, while Mr. Langton laughed and said, “A chaperon, eh! or an aspirant." "Neither," said Catharine coldly, and the young man felt awed by the haughty reproach on her lip. They spoke then on other subjects, and Mr. Langton, who came to amuse himself, remained to listen and approve, as she discoursed so eloquently, without that graceful feminine affectation, so often assumed by fashionable young ladies, and before half an hour he had confessed to himself that "the wild Western flower was superior to every one of his acquaintance:" gladly would he then have told her so, but he felt such a premature |