A PAGE FROM A CAKTAfi's NOTE-BOOK. 655 



expedition my ill-arranged portmanteau would permit ; not, however, 

 without a secret assurance that my ensemble might procure for me the 

 smiles of egad, perhaps of the heiress herself ! With this modest 

 anticipation I concluded my personal adorning, and descended to the 

 hall, where, hung with massive armour, spreading antlers, and old pic* 

 tures, frowned the dark oaken walls of many a century, iTmg j{ 3 j-[wn3[ 



" Strong in their age, and sombre in their strength." 



" I must introduce you to my fair sister," exclaimed my friend, lead- 

 ing me to a handsome fair-haired girl ; " I have engaged her hand for 

 you, as my most intimate, for the first quadrille." I bowed my thanks, 

 and led the fair Cecilia to the set. My partner was every thing that was 

 amiable and beautiful but oh ! how totally was her beauty eclipsed by 

 the pale, wild, and interesting creature who stood before us. There was 

 that in her eye which never had I seen in any other a strong and 

 beaming brightness, which sent through her " long dark lashes, low 

 depending/' an expression almost more than earthly. Her pale, but 

 perfect features, were rendered almost statue-like by the contrast of the 

 dark and glossy ringlets which fell luxuriantly from her beautifully- 

 formed head, while her sylph-like, gliding, but graceful figure of sym- 

 metry, realized the idea of a creature belonging to a brighter world than 

 ours. My companion perceived my admiration ; nor did she seem as- 

 tonished or displeased, when, instead of replying to some question about 

 Cambridge, I interrupted her by an observation upon the singular and 

 beautiful being before me. " Ah ! poor Constantia !" she shighed. The 

 manner in which these few words were spoken, almost made me love 

 her. I had no opportunity of further inquiry, for the quadrille was 

 ended, and another aspirant for the hand of the fair Cecilia hurried her 

 away to waltz, and left me to ruminate alone upon this " child of mys- 

 tery," for such I felt quite convinced she was. Peace was out of the 

 question, until I elicited the facts from my friend himself. He informed 

 rne that she was the only child of a wealthy, but penurious Baronet. 

 She had never known the tender cares of a mother's fostering love, and 

 thus the flowers of her mind were left to wander in wasteful luxuriance, 

 when, had they been better trained, they would have formed a garden 

 of the fairest and the brightest growth. It was impossible that such a 

 being should live and not be loved ; far more so, that her own bosom 

 shouid be dead to the impulse and power of strong affection. She was 

 loved, and oh ! how fondly and how fatally was that love reciprocated ! 

 But the bud of her hopes was never destined to blossom ! When her 

 stern and unpitying parent drove the chosen of her heart, proud and 

 pennyless, from his doors, he little thought, and perhaps he little heeded, 

 how hard and decisive a blow was struck upon his daughter's affections. 

 And he, too, the discarded and hopeless, seeking a painful and early 

 death upon the battle plain, little deemed, as the name of Constantia 

 lingered in his dying accents, that she, the adoring being for whom his 

 heart beat high with hope, would, in losing him, lose also the conscious- 

 ness of her own existence ! The news of his death was announced to 

 her without caution, She spoke not she wept not she fell suddenly 

 and violently to the earth, and was raised from it a maniac ! 



Time, however, that " only healer when the heart has bled," at length 

 restored the lovely Constantia to the world ; but the fair promise of her 

 youth had been sapped, and her health had sunk under the bitter visi- 



