THE FATAL WALTZ, BY MRS. C.K, POWNELL.
‘Warx I wos a young gitl I remember paying a visit to an old venerable pile in the country, whose dark walls and intrieate passages made an indelible improssion on my childish imagination. It atooil in a grove of ancient trees, apart from the rest of the villoge; and nothing can be conceived moro solitary than this old pile, when the shades of night had stolen eround it. I shall never forget my childich fears whenever I had occasion to travel its long echoing corridors after twilight, and when even the shadows of the trees without, falling across the floor, stirred wierd feelinga at my heart.
I visited the place again in my nineteenth year, but it had lost much of its influence over my mind. The houso seemed neither eo large nor so solitary as when I visited it in childhood. I could now traverse ils wide old staircase after nightfall without a quickened pulsa- tion of the heart, and could lie on my pillow and hear the trees moaning without, and yet keep my head un- covered by the bed-clothes.
But thero was one object about the old mansion which remained unchanged, appearing to my fancy just as she had appeared to mo ten yenrs before. I mean my aunt Mary. How shalt I describe her? She was a cheerful old body, whose kindness of heart was dis- comible in every lineament of her face. Sho wore = close neat eap, and a gown of a pattern which had been out of date at least twenty years. A pin cushion usually hung suspended, by a silver chain, from her girdle; and in her hands were always to be seen the never-idle knit- ting needles, She was the village wonder in the way of simples, and had a knack of preserving peaches, quinces, &c. that few could equal. Her face was like a quiet landscape, saothing the heart by its untroubled expression. Her smilo was ineffably sweet. Yet she had always a sort of half melancholy look, as if sorrow had, tong yeera before, been busy with her heart, ‘When I first visited her, I was struck with this settled yet subdued expression; but I was then too young to think much of the matter. On my second visit, how- over, my curiosity was aroused, snd, as aunt Mary was an old maid, I busied myself in imagining a thousand versions of what I supposed to bo the story of her heart. She bad been unfortunate in love, of that I was sure. Aunt Mary saw my curiosity, and one evening, sfier we had drawn around the fire, and were alone, she gratified me with the following story.
I was once as young as you, Carry, and hed the reputation of being handsome beside. I was certainly rather a belle in the village, and was in requi
every ball or sleigh-ride, Flattered hy the attentions paid me I became at Jength e flirt, and sacrificed many a worthy man to my vanity, by indirectly encouraging hie attentions until he had staked his all on winning me, when I coolly dismissed him, affecting astonishment at his Jove. Ah! Carry, out sex little think. of the misery we inflict, until, Jike me, they have met their punishment,
‘My heart, in this career of folly, for a long time remained untouched. But at lesigth I was introduced to a person, who, from the first moment of our acquain= tance, awakened on interest in my heart, He was at that time just entering on the practice of the profession of the law, and hie friends were sanguine of the sutoess which his talents wrould secure him. Certainly, I never met a more fascinating companion, and this fascination was to be attributed chiefly to his powers of conversa tion. Unlike all the rest I had met, he scemed insen- sible to my charms, and though his demeanor was polite, it had not the warmth which characterized that of others toward me, It was perhaps even cold—yet hia heart ‘was generous to a fault, This piqued me, I determined to win bim, ‘
I will not detail the means hy which T succeeded in my design. But although my feelings at first were those only of pigue, they grew rapidly into those of love—warm, deep, uncontrollable Jove! Yee! I loved Albert Chartors as few women have loved, with all the fervor of @ passionate soul, with all the intensity of a first affection, He returned my love. And when his passion had been confessed, and I had promised to be his, he acknowledged that he had loved me from the first, end that he had been restrained from confessing huis passion at once only by the fear lest I might be the heartless thing, which too many were disposed to call me. How my heart upbraided me at these words !—for it wes only by concealing this trait in my character that Thad won his love, I felt the deception I had practised on him: I felt that, if he ever discovered it, hia noble nature would spurn me from him. But E resolved to be, in future, all that be could wish I
Albert was indeed a being such as few women have ever been loved by—generous, and high-minded, he was caleulated to awaken affection if ever one of his sex was. Ho had a lofty idea of.a true woman, Above all he looked for her to be guiltless of anything like deception —I felt, from the first, that hia love would cease if he came to beliove me guilty of an untruth. But, with all this, he had the highest confidence in her he loved. T remember onco when we talked of this subject he said,
“I cannot understand that love which has not the fullest reliance in the faith of the beloved object. Years might eeparate me from the mistress of my heart, but I should feel no jealousy. 1 could not love unless I be- lieved her I loved incapable of betraying me.”
�
