ow 
Gls 
ed me to cover my head with my cloak. In 
this situation J was found by Amelia, who, 
terrified at seeing mé motionless, stouped 
down, and fearfully uncovering my face: 
* Henry, what do you desire of me? I am 
here.” At the gound of that voice [ under- 
went an entire change; the wérld, in which 
I was, disappeared ; my. heart became light 
and tranquil; a celestial visiap snatched me 
from the torments of hell, to transport me 
into the regions of bliss ; but this instanta- 
neous temoval from one extreme to another, 
had like to have proved fatal to me: [ thought 
the moment of death-was arrived; 1 was 
unablete breathe. Placing the hand of Ame- 
lia on my heart,—* Restore me,’ said I, ina 
voice scarcely audible, ‘ or receive my last 
sich.’ And f again fell lifeless on the stone. 
Oh, how powerful is love! She, who, but a 
few minutes before had been feeble and Iqn- 
guid, no longer felt her indispogition nor her 
weakness: she raised me up, supported me 
to her chamber, placed me in a chair, and 
pressed me to’ her bosom. I felt her tears, 
they drew forth mine, aud life returned.— 
Amelia fell on her knees, in gratitude to hea= 
ven. In extending my ce to her, she re- 
marked it was bloody. ‘ Oh, my Henry !" 
eried she, * What has happened to you? 
Speak ; remove my fears.——* While you 
were absent, Amelia, I cannot say what may 
have taken place: I was labouring under thie 
weight of a frightful dream, in which I could 
neither see nor feel any thing, but the fear of 
haying lost you for ever-—You suddenly ap- 
peared, and it was too much for me—But, 
my Amelia, is it not enough, that in you, as 
in Heaven, all is good, compassiqnate, de- 
fightful; and that your tenderness is now 
unresetved..—-——* “It is, niy Henry, and to 
grant you my confidence, I need not the ex- 
planation of the miserable state to which you 
were reduced: you love me, that is sufhi- 
cient ; the world gontains nothing of equal 
yalue to me.’ Transported, 1 clasped her in 
my aris, and feit her heart beat against my 
own. Never was such beauty seen before! Her 
brilliant eyes swam in an ectasy of delight! 
* T call Heaven to witness, that { will ever be 
cur’s: to you J deyote the reminder of my 
ife. Swear you will be nrihe, asid accept ny 
vows.’ She complicd. — 
' «Q, Adolphus! Proyidence has propor- 
tioned our felicity to onr pain; but love has 
more joys than sorrows, and this moment 
Was not bought too dear.” q 
In short, like another Julia, our heroine 
could resist the ardour of love, till he 
disguised himself "in the shape of pity. 
ge me sentois troubler, de ses transporis, ses 
soupirs oppressoient mon ceurs Je partageois 
ses tourmens en ne pensant gue les plaindre, 
Fe le vis.dans des agitations convuls:ves, pret 
mn s*emanonir a mes pieds. 
raf mauroit epargntes @ tha consine ! Pest la 
Pidé: git ne perdit, ~~ : 
Peiti-’tre ? Amour 
ROMANCES AND NOVELS, 
Ernest makes his escape from the pot- 
luted chamber of Amelia before day- 
break, and flies to Woldemar for the 
consent of an inexorable mother. Her 
inflexibility drives him to madness 3 the 
dread of her suspended curse on the one 
hand, and his ardent love for Amelia on 
the other, which he had repeatedly sworn 
should be sanctioned by marriage, induce 
a delirium. His situation becomes more 
and more alarming every day: he is 
unable to wrie to Amelia, who on her 
part becomes suspicious, from his silence, 
that she has been the victim of some foul 
seducer. Day after day, week after 
weck rolls on, and she hears nothing of 
her lover; at length, in the anguish and 
distraction of her mind, she leaves her 
uncle, she leaves her child, and wanders 
about in the hopes of finding him. She 
learns that Semler, who had afterwards 
assumed the name of Adolphus, is in 
reality no other than Ernest. She fol. 
lows him in disguise from place to places 
at Vienna, on learning that he is to be 
present at a masked bail, she gains ad- 
mission in a domjno, watches his motions, 
hears indistinctly some earnest solicita- 
tions which he makes to Blanche, and in 
a fit of unfounded jealousy, slipping a 
note into his hand, signifying that Ame- 
lia is convinced of his perfidy, she plunges 
into the Danube. Frnest rushes after 
her through the different chambers of. 
the palace, and the different streets of 
the town: sees her struggling with the 
waves, and briggs her almost lifeless to, 
the shore. She is recovered, however, 
and becomes doubly sensible of the fide- 
lity of Ernest: she is taken to the hotel 
of Madame Woldemar, whose indigna- 
tion isrekindled. Her brutal behaviour, 
in short, superadded to the fatigue of 
body and affliction. of mind to ‘which 
Amelia had long submitted, is too much 
for her feeble frame ; she sinks under it, 
and the unhappy Ernest, clasping her 
lifeless body, expires also in an agony of 
distress. Fils 
This work beats marks of talent, but 
it abounds with improbabilities and ex- 
travagancies. It cannot eseapethe most 
superticial observer, that the object which 
Madame C * * professes to have had in 
view is totally lost sight of.’ @ TF have 
endeavoured,” says she, “ to show to 
what a pitch of unhappiness love, even 
the most venia’, may lead.’> Rather ought 
she to have said, my intention is to shew 
the complicated crimes which follow from 
the guilty. induleence cf an ill-fated pas: 
" $100. 
