The French Poets and Novelists. 61 5 



Laurence recovered, and now that Jocelyn found he might love 

 his companion without fear and without restraint, when the mystery 

 so singularly developed was fully explained by the blushing maiden, 

 and when she no longer experienced the necessity of withholding a 

 secret from her preserver, their mutual joy knew no bounds. But, 

 alas! that felicity was of short duration. A train of circumstances, 

 which our limits will not permit us to relate, compelled Jocelyn to 

 become a priest, and to bid an eternal farewell to the distracted^ girl, 

 who was removed from the Eagle's Grotto to the protection of friends. 

 No impure passion had sullied her innocence, and Jocelyn was again 

 alone in the world. 



Peace was restored to France, and in process of time we see 

 Jocelyn installed in a humble curacy in the vicinity of his favourite 

 Alps. One day he is sent for to a neighbouring town to shrive the 

 soul of a lady at the point of death. He is the only pastor in the 

 neighbourhood, and he hastens to obey the summons. 



" In the dull chamber sickly was the light, 

 The dingy curtains hid her from my sight, 

 Save when the slightest motion half- revealed 

 A pallid brow, at other times concealed ; 

 And on that brow, so paly, yet so fair, 

 Were wildly scattered locks of auburn hair, 

 That, amply clust'ring o'er her bosom's swell, 

 Thence to the ground in rich profusion fell. 



" ' Father!' she cried in accents scarce unknown. 

 My soul was shaken by that dulcet tone ; 

 I felt, while all my frame convuls'd with fear, 

 A vague remembrance as it met my ear ; 

 And scarcely, in that moment of distress, 

 An exclamation could my lips suppress !" 



(Page 178, vol. ii.) 



The lady proceeded with her confession, and told Jocelyn that her 

 first and only love had been blighted in its bud, that she had since 

 married another, that her husband died shortly after their union, 

 and that she had vainly mingled in the dissipation and gaiety of life 

 and society to chase away the reminiscences of her primal passion. 

 Pleasure had been no solace to her 



" For still devoid of hope, alas ! each day 

 In bitterness and anguish passed away ; 

 And all the energies of life, declining, 

 Seemed to be broken by a constant pining. 

 Yet on her cheek remained the youthful bloom 

 That half defied th' attraction of the tomb ; 

 Thus a fair tree, with foliage ever green, 

 Contains a worm which gnaws its core unseen." 



(Page 186, vol. ii.) 



The lady pursued her confession in the same melancholy strain, 

 composed half of bitterness and half of an unnatural joy that she was 

 approaching her end, and concluded in the following manner : 



" ' Oh ! in the hour when dissolution 's nigh, 

 Could he but on me cast a tearful eye, 



