182 RECORDS OF A HEART. 



tions which were supposed to form its contents. At length, 

 one day, in idle mood, I bethought me of the papers of poor 

 Marguerite H*****, and with feelings but little in unison with 

 sorrowful reminiscence I commenced my research. 



How did my heart thrill with " late remorse" as I looked 

 upon these silent records of a wasted heart ! From the dis- 

 jointed fragments of her poetic fancy I framed the truthful tale 

 of her life ; and the sorrows which she had never breathed in 

 human ear were uttered in the oratory of her own soul. 



I am not going to tell that history, — let me give thee some 

 of these unspoken confessions, gentle reader, and tell me 

 whether thine own experience and thine own dear-bought 

 knowledge will not lead thee to divine the tale. We will not 

 select at random ; let us mark the dates, and fix the chronology 

 of love and sorrow in a single heart. 



Oh ! knowest thou, dearest, the love of youth. 



With its wayward fancies, its untried truth. 



All cloudless and warm as the sunny ray 



That opens the flowers of a summer's day, 



Unfolding the passionate thoughts that lie 



'Mid feelings pure as an angel's sigh, 



Till the loftiest strength of our nature wakes, 



And the soul from its slumber of childhood breaks ; 



Oh ! knowest thou, dear, what such love may be ? — 



Since my earlier days, such was mine for thee. 



Oh ! knowest thou, dearest, of woman's love, 

 With its faith that sorrow alone can prove. 



