183'2.] A Story of the Heart. 687 



dupe cheated, betrayed, and made the very ridicule of fortune. He 

 rushed from the house, where he had passed two years in the pursuit of a 

 shadow, as worthless as it was frail, and hastened homeward. 



lie had pride, he was not quite without feeling, at least for himself; but 

 when he recollected the heaven he had cast away, how he had smote upon 

 the heart that loved him, to be smitten in return, conscience was his 

 accuser. The affair of Miss Sidney was known to his acquaintances ; he 

 himself had given publicity to this ; here was the deceiver himself deceived, 

 the betrayer himself betrayed and he heard the laugh of derision go rou id 

 about him. 



It is hard for the brave and the good to part with the lasting hope the 

 living 1 impression the unfading aspirations of their every-day existence ; 

 but how much more difficult for the calculating the base, to separate, 

 upon even terms, with their desires. This one expectation, this aggran- 

 dizement, perhaps, the lady herself, had been the stamina of Delacour's 

 late actions and life. To have been climbing, with struggles and anguish, 

 the steep of fortune bewildered among the brushwood torn and defaced 

 amid the brambles, to find one's foot upon the last elevation our won- 

 dering gaze might discover, and no sooner to find ourself there than the 

 foundation gives way, the basement is scattered, and we and all our tiny 

 hopes hurled headlong into the abyss, or into the humble vale from which 

 we first up-sprung, this may well demand patience; but when inflicted 

 on the strong, when suffered by the proud, then comes the sting of mad- 

 ness the writhing of passion the gnawing of the heart and all that 

 despair may suffer under, and philosophy deride. 



While torn by conflicting emotions, there seemed no resting-place 

 whereon the thoughts of Delacour might repose. He had held himself 

 above the world, as one whom no storm might reach, no breath might 

 touch : he had walked in pride, he was therefore more open to scorn. He 

 looked around him, and one fair form, and one alone, was seen in the fat- 

 expanse, and to her he turned. To this being he vowed to resign all false 

 ambitions, all theories of self-emolument, all speculations of self-interest. 

 He had grown in riches within the last two years ; she might still love 

 him he had lost honour in losing her well, he must repair the loss but 

 then her reproaches and scorn, he deserved them, and humbly and faith- 

 fully he could avow it. He thought of her angel ways her maiden kind- 

 ness ; he thought, and wondered at the monster he had been. But the 

 mind forms schemes, after the body is tired of action, incapable of im- 

 pulse. A fatal malady, the effect of his disturbed spirits, now made its 

 appearance. Day after day passed in ineffectual attempts to obtain an in- 

 terview with the being he had injured. The wretched young lady, on whom 

 their last meeting had made a lasting impression, suspicious of his ad- 

 vances, fearing to avow her real sentiments ; her delicacy offended and 

 pride wounded, fled his secret approaches, or with cold insensibility met 

 his more open attentions. It was enough for her to know that he was on 

 the point of marriage with another, and though he was evident y an object 

 of horror, yet, more eager than ever for some explanation, something to 

 subdue or excite the anguish within him, he continued his vain pursuit. 

 Baffled at all points, and sick in body and mind, he yielded to his depres- 

 sion, undetermined in what way to act that might yet amend the past. A 

 fortnight was over, and he was the shadow of his former self, the wreck of 

 his own weakness and folly. He now determined, cost what it would, 



