[Illustration: DR. MIDDLETON. ]

THADDEUS OF WARSAW

BY

JANE PORTER

AUTHOR OF "THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, " ETC. 

 "Loin d'aimer la guerre, il l'abhorre; En triomphant même il déplore Les désastres qu'elle produit Et, couronné par la victoire, II gémit de sa propre gloire. Si la paix n'en est pas le fruit. "

A NEW AND REVISED EDITIONWITH NEW NOTES, ETC. , BY THE AUTHOR

 THE AUTHOR, TO HER FRIENDLY READERS. 

Written for the new edition of "Thaddeus of Warsaw, " forming one ofthe series called "The Standard Novels. "

To such readers alone who, by the sympathy of a social taste, fall inwith any blameless fashion of the day, and, from an amiable interest, also, in whatever may chance to afford them innocent pleasure, wouldfain know something more about an author whose works have broughtthem that gratification than the cold letter of a mere literarypreface usually tells: to such readers this--something of anegotistical--epistle is addressed. 

For, in beginning the republication of a regular series of thenovels, or, as they have been more properly called, biographicalromances, of which I have been the author, it has been considereddesirable to make certain additions to each work, in the form of afew introductory pages and scattered notes, illustrative of theorigin of the tale, of the historical events referred to in it, andof the actually living characters who constitute its personages, withsome account, also, of the really local scenery described; thusgiving, it is thought, a double zest to the entertainment of thereader, by bringing him into a previous acquaintance with the personshe is to meet in the book, and making him agreeably familiar with thecountry through which he is to travel in their company. Indeed, thesocial taste of the times has lately fully shown how advantageous thelike conversational disclosures have proved to the recentrepublications of the celebrated "Waverley Novels, " by the chief ofnovel-writers; and in the new series of the admirable naval tales bythe distinguished American novelist, both of whom paid to the mother-country the gratifying tribute of making it their birthplace. 

Such evidences in favor of an argument could not fail to persuade meto undertake the desired elucidating task; feeling, indeed, particularly pleased to adopt, in my turn, a successful example fromthe once Great Unknown--now the not less great avowed author of theWaverley Novels, in the person of Sir Walter Scott, who did me thehonor to adopt the style or class of novel of which "Thaddeus ofWarsaw" was the first, --a class which, uniting the personages andfacts of real history or biography with a combining and illustrativemachinery of the imagination, formed a new species of writing in thatday, and to which Madame de Staël and others have given theappellation of "an epic in prose. " The day of its appearance is nowpretty far back: for "Thaddeus of Warsaw" (a tale founded on Polishheroism) and the "Scottish Chiefs" (a romance grounded on Scottishheroism) were both published in England, and translated into variouslanguages abroad, many years before the literary wonder of Scotlandgave to the world his transcendent story of Waverley, forming a mostimpressive historical picture of the last struggle of the papist, butgallant, branch of the Stuarts for the British throne. [Footnote: Itwas on the publication of these, her first two works, in the Germanlanguage that the authoress was honored with being made a lady of theChapter of St. Joachim, and received the gold cross of the order fromWirtemburg. ]

"Thaddeus of Warsaw" being the first essay, in the form of such anassociation between fact and fancy, was published by its author witha natural apprehension of its reception by the critical part of thepublic. She had not, indeed, written it with any view to publication, but from an almost resistless impulse to embody the ideas andimpressions with which her heart and mind were then full. It waswritten in her earliest youth; dictated by a fervent sympathy withcalamities which had scarcely ceased to exist, and which her eagerpen sought to portray; and it was given to the world, or rather tothose who might feel with her, with all the simple-hearted enthusiasmwhich saw no impediment when a tale of virtue or of pity was to betold. 

In looking back through the avenue of life to that time, what eventshave occurred, public and private, to the countries and to theindividuals named in that tale! to persons of even as lofty names andexcellences, of our own and other lands, who were mutually affectedwith me in admiration and regret for the virtues and the sorrowsdescribed! In sitting down now to my retrospective task, I findmyself writing this, my second preface to the story of "Thaddeus ofWarsaw, " just thirty years from the date of its first publication. Then, I wrote when the struggle for the birthright independence ofPoland was no more; when she lay in her ashes, and her heroes intheir wounds; when the pall of death spread over the whole country, and her widows and orphans travelled afar. 

In the days of my almost childhood, --that is, eight years before Idipped my pen in their tears, --I remember seeing many of thosehapless refugees wandering about St. James's Park. They had sadcompanions in the like miseries, though from different enemies, inthe emigrants from France; and memory can never forget the variety ofwretched yet noble-looking visages I then contemplated in the dailywalks which my mother's own little family group were accustomed totake there. One person, a gaunt figure, with melancholy and braverystamped on his emaciated features, is often present to therecollection of us all. He was clad in a threadbare blue uniformgreat coat, with a black stock, a rusty old hat, pulled rather overhis eyes; his hands without gloves; but his aspect was that of aperfect gentleman, and his step that of a military man. We saw himconstantly at one hour, in the middle walk of the Mall, and alwaysalone; never looking to the right nor to the left, but straight on;with an unmoving countenance, and a pace which told that his thoughtswere those of a homeless and hopeless man--hopeless, at least, of allthat life might bring him. On, on he went to the end of the Mall;turned again, and on again; and so he continued to do always, as longas we remained spectators of his solitary walk: once, indeed, we sawhim crossing into St. Martin's Lane. Nobody seemed to know him, forhe spoke to none; and no person ever addressed him, though many, likeourselves, looked at him, and stopped in the path to gaze after him. We often longed to be rich, to follow him wherever his wretched abodemight have been, and then silently to send comforts to him from handshe knew not of. We used to call him, when speaking of him toourselves, _Il Penseroso;_ and by that name we yet not unfrequentlytalk of him to each other, and never without recurrence to the verypainful, because unavailing, sympathy we then felt for that apparentlyfriendless man. Such sympathy is, indeed, right; for it is one of thesecondary means by which Providence conducts the stream of his merciesto those who need the succor of their fellow-creatures; and we cannotdoubt that, though the agency of such Providence was not to be inour hands, there were those who had both the will and the powergiven, and did not, like ourselves, turn and pity that interestingemigrant in vain. 

Some time after this, General Kosciusko, the justly celebrated heroof Poland, came to England, on his way to the United States; havingbeen released from his close imprisonment in Russia, and in thenoblest manner, too, by the Emperor Paul, immediately on hisaccession to the throne. His arrival caused a great sensation inLondon, and many of the first characters of the times pressed forwardto pay their respects to such real patriotic virtue in its adversity. An old friend of my family was amongst them; his own warm heartencouraging the enthusiasm of ours, he took my brother Robert tovisit the Polish veteran, then lodging at Sablonière's Hotel, inLeicester Square. My brother, on his return to us, described him as anoble looking man, though not at all handsome, lying upon a couch ina very enfeebled state, from the effects of numerous wounds he hadreceived in his breast by the Cossacks' lances after his fall, havingbeen previously overthrown by a sabre stroke on his head. His voice, in consequence of the induced internal weakness, was very low, andhis speaking always with resting intervals. He wore a black bandageacross his forehead, which covered a deep wound there; and, indeed, his whole figure bore marks of long suffering. 

Our friend introduced my brother to him by name, and as "a boyemulous of seeing and following noble examples. " Kosciusko took himkindly by the hand, and spoke to him words of generous encouragement, in whatever path of virtuous ambition he might take. They never havebeen forgotten. Is it, then, to be wondered at, combining the mutedistress I had so often contemplated in other victims of similarmisfortunes with the magnanimous object then described to me by mybrother, that the story of heroism my young imagination should thinkof embodying into shape should be founded on the actual scenes ofKosciusko's sufferings, and moulded out of his virtues!

To have made him the ostensible hero of the tale, would have suitedneither the modesty of his feelings nor the humbleness of my ownexpectation of telling it as I wished. I therefore took a younger andless pretending agent, in the personification of a descendant of thegreat John Sobieski. 

But it was, as I have already said, some years after the partition ofPoland that I wrote, and gave for publication, my historical romanceon that catastrophe. It was finished amid a circle of friends wellcalculated to fan the flame which had inspired its commencement someof the leading heroes of the British army just returned from thevictorious fields of Alexandria and St. Jean d'Acre; and, seated inmy brother's little study, with the war-dyed coat in which theveteran Abercrombie breathed his last grateful sigh, while, likeWolfe, he gazed on the boasted invincible standard of the enemy, brought to him by a British soldier, --with this trophy of our ownnative valor on one side of me, and on the other the bullet-torn vestof another English commander of as many battles, --but who, havingsurvived to enjoy his fame, I do not name here, --I put my last stroketo the first campaigns of Thaddeus Sobieski. 

When the work was finished, some of the persons near me urged itsbeing published. But I argued, in opposition to the wish, itsdifferent construction to all other novels or romances which had gonebefore it, from Richardson's time-honored domestic novels to thepenetrating feeling in similar scenes by the pen of Henry Mackenzie;and again, Charlotte Smith's more recent, elegant, but verysentimental love stories. But the most formidable of all were thewildly interesting romances of Anne Radcliffe, whose magical wondersand mysteries were then the ruling style of the day. I urged, howcould any one expect that the admiring readers of such works couldconsider my simply-told biographical legend of Poland anything betterthan a dull union between real history and a matter-of-factimagination?

Arguments were found to answer all this; and being excited by thefeelings which had dictated my little work, and encouraged by thecorresponding characters with whom I daily associated, I ventured theessay. However, I had not read the sage romances of our older timeswithout turning to some account the lessons they taught toadventurous personages of either sex; showing that even the boldestknight never made a new sally without consecrating his shield withsome impress of acknowledged reverence. In like manner, when Ientered the field with my modern romance of Thaddeus of Warsaw, Iinscribed the first page with the name of the hero of Acre. Thatdedication will be found through all its successive editions, stillin front of the title-page; and immediately following it is a secondinscription, added, in after years, to the memory of the magnanimouspatriot and exemplary man, Thaddeus Kosciusko, who had first filledme with ambition to write the tale, and who died in Switzerland, A. D. 1817, fuller of glory than of years. Yet, if life be measured byits vicissitudes and its virtues, we may justly say, "he was gatheredin his ripeness. "

After his visit to old friends in the United States, --where, in hisyouth, he had learned the art of war, and the science of a noble, unselfish independence, from the marvel of modern times, GeneralWashington, --Kosciusko returned to Europe, and abode a while inFrance, but not in its capital. He lived deeply retired, graduallyrestoring his shattered frame to some degree of health by the peaceof a resigned mind and the occupation of rural employments. Circumstances led him to Switzerland; and the country of WilliamTell, and of simple Christian fellowship, could not but soon be foundpeculiarly congenial to his spirit, long turned away from thepageants and the pomp of this world. In his span he had had all, either in his grasp or proffered to him. For when nothing remained ofall his military glory and his patriotic sacrifices but a yetexisting fame, and a conscious sense within him of duty performed, hewas content to "eat his crust, " with that inheritance alone; and herefused, though with an answering magnanimity of acknowledgment, avaluable property offered to him by the Emperor of Russia, as a freegift from a generous enemy, esteeming his proved, disinterestedvirtues. He also declined the yet more dazzling present of a crownfrom the then master of the continent, who would have set him on thethrone of Poland--but, of a truth, under the vassalage of the Emperorof the French! Kosciusko was not to be consoled for Poland by richesbestowed on himself, nor betrayed into compromising her birthright ofnational independence by the casuistry that would have made hisparental sceptre the instrument of a foreign domination. 

Having such a theme as his name, and the heroes his co-patriots, theromance of "Thaddeus of Warsaw" was no sooner published than itovercame the novelty of its construction, and became universallypopular. Nor was it very long before it fell into General Kosciusko'shands, though then in a distant land; and he kindly and promptly lostno time in letting the author know his approbation of the narrative, though qualified with several modest expressions respecting himself. From that period she enjoyed many treasured marks of his esteem; andshe will add, though with a sad satisfaction, that amongst herseveral relics of the Great Departed who have honored her withregard, she possesses, most dearly prized, a medal of Kosciusko and alock of his hair. About the same time she received a mostincontestable proof of the accuracy of her story from the lips ofGeneral Gardiner, the last British minister to the court ofStanislaus Augustus. On his reading the book, he was so sure that thefacts it represented could only have been learned on the spot, thathe expressed his surprise to several persons that the author of thework, an English lady, could have been at Warsaw during all thetroubles there and he not know it. On his repeating this observationto the late Duke of Roxburgh, his grace's sister-in-law, who happenedto overhear what was said, and knew the writer, answered him bysaying, "The author has never been in Poland. " "Impossible!" repliedthe general; "no one could describe the scenes and occurrences there, in the manner it is done in that book, without having been aneyewitness. " The lady, however, convinced the general of the factbeing otherwise, by assuring him, from her own personal knowledge, that the author of "Thaddeus of Warsaw" was a mere school-girl inEngland at the time of the events of the story. 

How, then, it has often been asked, did she obtain such accurateinformation with regard to those events? and how acquire her familiaracquaintance with the palaces and persons she represents in the work?The answer is short. By close questioning every person that came inher way that knew anything about the object of her interest; andthere were many brave hearts and indignant lips ready to open withthe sad yet noble tale. Thus every illustrious individual she wishedto bring into her narrative gradually grew upon her knowledge, tillshe became as well acquainted with all her desired personages as ifthey were actually present with her; for she knew their minds andtheir actions; and these compose the man. The features of thecountry, also, were learned from persons who had trodden the spotsshe describes: and that they were indeed correct pictures of theirhomes and war-fields, the tears and bursting enthusiasm of many ofPoland's long expatriated sons have more than once borne testimony toher. 

As one instance, out of the number I might repeat, of theinextinguishable love of those noble wanderers from their nativecountry, I shall subjoin the copy of a letter addressed to me by oneof those gallant men, then holding a high military post in a foreignservice, and who, I afterwards learned, was of the family ofKosciusko, whose portrait he sent to me: for the letter wasaccompanied with a curiously-wrought ring of pure gold, containing alikeness of that hero. The letter was in French, and I transcribe itliterally in the words of the writer:--

"Madame!

"Un inconnu ose addresser la parole à l'auteur immortel de Thaddeusde Warsaw; attaché par tent de liens à l'héros que vous avez chanté, je m'enhardis à distraire pour un moment vos nobles veilles. 

"Qu'il me soit permis de vous offrir, madame, l'hommage de monadmiration la plus exaltée, en vous présentant la bague qui contientle buste du Général Kosciusko:--elle a servi de signe de rallimentaux patriots Polonois, lorsque, en 1794, ils entreprirent de sécouerleur joug. 

"Les anciens déposoient leurs offrandes sur l'autel de leursdivinités tutélaires;--je ne fais qu'imiter leur exemple. Vous êtespour tous les Polonois cette divinité, qui la première ait élevée savoix, du fond de l'impériale, Albion, en leur faveur. 

"Un jour viendra, et j'ose conserver dans mon coeur cet espoir, quevos accens, qui ont retenti dans le coeur de l'Europe sensible, produiront leur effêt célestial, en ressuscitant l'ombre sanglante dema chère patrie. 

"Daignez agréer, madame, l'hommage respectueuse d'un de vosserviteurs le plus dévoué, &c. &c. "

Probably the writer of the above is now returned to his country, hisvows having been most awfully answered by one of the most momentousstruggles she has ever had, or to which the nations around have everyet stood as spectators; for the balance of Europe trembles at theturning of her scale. 

Thus, then, it cannot but be that in the conclusion of this my, perhaps, last introductory preface to any new edition of "Thaddeus ofWarsaw, " its author should offer up a sincerely heartfelt prayer tothe King of kings, the Almighty Father of all mankind, that His all-gracious Spirit may watch over the issue of this contest, and dictatethe peace of Poland!

ESHER, _May_, 1831. 

 DEDICATION TO THE FIRST EDITION. 

 THADDEUS OF WARSAW

 is inscribed to

 SIR SIDNEY SMITH;

 in the hope that, as

 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

 did not disdain to write a romance, SIR SIDNEY SMITH

 will not refuse to read one. 

 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY CONSIGNED HIS EXCELLENT WORK TO THE AFFECTION OF A SISTER. 

 I CONFIDE MY ASPIRING ATTEMPT TO THE URBANITY OF THE BRAVE; TO THE MAN OF TASTE, OF FEELING, AND OF CANDOR;

 TO HIM WHOSE FRIENDSHIP WILL BESTOW THAT INDULBENCE ON THE AUTHOR WHICH HIS JUDGMENT MIGHT HAVE DENIED TO THE BOOK;

 TO HIM OF WHOM FUTURE AGES WILL SPEAK WITH HONOR AND THE PRESENT TIMES BOAST AS THEIR GLORY!

 TO

 SIR SIDNEY SMITH, I SUBMIT THIS HUMBLE TRIBUTE OF THE HIGHEST RESPECT WHICH CAN BE OFFERED BY A BRITON, OR ANIMATE THE HEART OF HIS SINCERE FRIEND, THE AUTHOR. 

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 

Having attempted a narrative of the intended description, butwritten, in fact, from the mere impulse of sympathy with its subjectstill fresh in my own and every pitying memory, it is natural that, after having made up my mind to assent to its publication, in whichmuch time and thought has been expended in considering theresponsibility of so doing, from so unpractised a pen, I should feelan increase of anxiety respecting its ultimate fate. 

Therefore, before the reader favors the tale itself with hisattention, I beg leave to offer him a little account of theprinciples that actuated its composition, and in regard to which oneof the most honored heads in the author's family urged her "not towithhold it from the press;" observing, in his persuasions, that themistakes which many of my young contemporaries of both sexescontinually make in their estimates of human character, and of thepurposes of human life, require to have a line of difference betweencertain splendid vices and some of the brilliant order of virtues tobe distinctly drawn before them. "And, " he remarked, "it appeared tobe so done in the pages of my Polish manuscript. Therefore, " addedhe, "let Thaddeus of Warsaw speak openly for himself!"

This opinion decided me. Though with fear and trembling, yet I feltan encouraging consciousness that in writing the manuscript narrativefor my own private enjoyment only, and the occasional amusement ofthose friends dearest around me, I had wished to portray characterswhose high endowments could not be misled into proud ambitions, northe gift of dazzling social graces betray into the selfish triumphsof worldly vanity, --characters that prosperity could not inflate, nordisappointments depress, from pious trust and honorable action. Thepure fires of such a spirit declare their sacred origin; and such isthe talisman of those achievements which amaze everybody but theiraccomplisher. The eye fixed on it is what divine truth declares it tobe "single!" There is no double purpose in it; no glancing to a man'sown personal aggrandizement on one side and on professing services tohis fellow-creatures on the other; such a spirit has only one aim--Heaven! and the eternal records of that wide firmament include withinit "all good to man. "

What flattered Alexander of Macedon into a madman, and perverted thegracious-minded Julius Caesar into usurpation and tyranny, has alsobeen found by Christian heroes the most perilous ordeal of theirvirtue; but, inasmuch as they are Christian heroes, and not paganmen, worshippers of false gods, whose fabled examples inculcated allthese deeds of self-absorbing vain-glory, our heroes of a "betterrevelation" have no excuse for failing under their trial, and manythere be who pass through it "pure and undefiled. " Such were thegreat Alfred of England, Gustavus Vasa of Sweden, and his greatersuccessor in true glory, Gustavus Adolphus, --all champions ofimmutable justice and ministers of peace. And though these may beregarded as personages beyond the sphere of ordinary emulations, yetthe same principles, or their opposites, prevail in every order ofmen from the prince to the peasant; and, perhaps, at no period of theworld more than the present were these divers principles in greaternecessity to be considered, and, according to the just conclusion, beobeyed. On all sides of us we see public and private society brokenup, as it were by an earthquake: the noblest and the meanest passionsof the human bosom at contention, and the latter often so disguised, that the vile ambuscade is not even suspected till found within theheart of the fortress itself. We have, however, one veritabletouchstone, that of the truest observation, "ye shall know a tree byits fruits. " Let us look round, then, for those which bear "goodfruits, " wholesome to the taste as well as pleasant to the sight, whether they grow on high altitudes or in the humbler valleys of theearth; let us view men of all degrees in life in their actions, andnot in their pretensions, --such men as were some of the Sobieski racein Poland, in every change of their remarkable lives. When placed atthe summit of mortal fame, surrounded by greatness and glory, andconsequent power, they evinced neither pride to others nor a sense ofself-aggrandizement in themselves; and, when under a reversedispensation, national misfortunes pursued them, and family sorrowspierced their souls, the weakness of a murmur never sunk the dignityof their sustaining fortitude, nor did the firmness of that virtueharden the amiable sensibilities of their hearts. 

To exhibit so truly heroic and endearing a portrait of what everyChristian man ought to be, --for the law of God is the same to thepoor as to the rich, --I have chosen one of that illustrious and, Ibelieve, now extinct race for the subject of my sketch; and the moreaptly did it present itself, it being necessary to show my heroamidst scenes and circumstances ready to exercise his brave andgenerous propensities, and to put their personal issues to the teston his mind. Hence Poland's sadly-varying destinies seemed to me thestage best calculated for the development of any self-imposed task. 

There certainly were matters enough for the exhibition of all thathuman nature could suffer and endure, and, alas! perish under, in thenearly simultaneous but terrible regicidal revolution of France; butI shrunk from that as a tale of horror, the work of demons in theshapes of men. It was a conflict in which no comparisons, as betweenman and man, could exist; and may God grant that so fearful avisitation may never be inflicted on this world again. May thenations of this world lay its warnings to their hearts!

It sprung from a tree self-corrupted, which only could produce suchfruits: the demon hierarchy of the French philosophers, who had longdenied the being of that pure and Almighty God, and who, in thearrogance of their own deified reason, and while in utter subjectionto the wildest desires of their passions, published their profane andpolluted creed amongst all orders of the people, and the natural andterrible consequences ensued. Ignorant before, they became like untotheir teachers, demons in their unbelief, --demons in one common envyand hatred of all degrees above them, or around them, whose existenceseemed at all in the way of even their slightest gratification:mutual spoliation and destruction covered the country. How often hasthe tale been told me by noble refugees, sheltered on our shores fromthose scenes of blood, where infamy triumphed and truth and honorwere massacred; but such narratives, though they never can beforgotten, are too direful for the hearer to contemplate in memory. 

Therefore, when I sought to represent the mental and moral contest ofman with himself, or with his fellow-men, I did not look for theirfield amongst human monsters, but with natural and civilized man;inasmuch as he is seen to be influenced by the impulses of hisselfish passions--ambition, covetousness, and the vanities of life, or, on the opposite side, by the generous amenities of truedisinterestedness, in all its trying situations; and, as I have said, the recent struggle in Poland, to maintain her laws and loyalindependence, against the combined aggressions of the three mostpowerful states in Europe, seemed to afford me the most suitableobjects for my moral aim, to interest by sympathy, while it taughtthe responsible commission of human life. 

I have now described the plan of my story, its aim and origin. 

If it be disapproved, let it be at once laid aside; but should itexcite any interest, I pray its perusal may be accompanied with anindulgent candor, its subjects being of so new, and thereforeuncustomary, a character in a work of the kind. But if the reader beone of my own sex, I would especially solicit her patience whilegoing through the first portion of the tale, its author being awarethat war and politics are not the most promising themes for anagreeable amusement; but the battles are not frequent, nor do thecabinet councils last long. I beg the favor, if the story is to beread at all, that no scene may be passed over as extraneous, forthough it begin like a state-paper, or a sermon, it always terminatesby casting some new light on the portrait of the hero. Beyond thoseevents of peril and of patriotic devotedness, the remainder of thepages dwell generally with domestic interests; but if the reader donot approach them regularly through the development of characteropened in the preceding troubled field, what they exhibit will seem amere wilderness of incidents, without interest or end; indeed I havedesigned nothing in the personages of this narrative out of the wayof living experience. I have sketched no virtue that I have not seen, nor painted any folly from imagination. I have endeavored to be asfaithful to reality in my pictures of domestic morals, and of heroicduties, as a just painter would seek to be to the existing objects ofnature, "wonderful and wild, or of gentlest beauty!" and on thesegrounds I have steadily attempted to inculcate "that virtue is thehighest proof of understanding, and the only solid basis ofgreatness; that vice is the natural consequence of grovellingthoughts, which begin in mistake and end in ignominy. "

 * * * * * * *

POSTCRIPT TO A SUBSEQUENT EDITION. 

After so many intervening years have passed since the author ofThaddeus of Warsaw wrote the foregoing preface, to introduce a workso novel in its character to the notice and candid judgment of theBritish public, it was her intention to take the present occasion ofits now perfectly new republication, at the distance of above fortyyears from its earliest appearance and so continued editions, toexpress her grateful sense of that public's gratifying sympathies andhonoring testimonies of approbation, from its author's youth to age;but even in the hour she sits down to perform the gracious task, shefeels a present incapability to undertake it. The very attempt hastoo sensibly recalled to her heart events that have befallen hersince she lived amongst the models of her tale; and she has also morerecently been in many of the places it describes; and circumstances, both of joys and sorrows, having occurred to her there to influencethe whole future current of her mortal life, she finds it impossibleto yet touch on those times and scenes connected with the subjects ofher happy youth, which would now only reverberate notes of sadness itis her duty to repress. Hence, though while revising the work itselfshe experiences a calm delight in the occupation, being a kind ofparting duty, also, to the descendants of her earliest, readers, shewould rather defer any little elucidations she may have met withregarding the objects of her pen to a few pages in the form of anAppendix at the end of the work; all, indeed, bringing herobservations, whether by weal or woe, to the one great and guidingconclusion. "Man is formed for two states of existence--a mortal andan immortal being;" in the Holy Scriptures authoritatively declared, "For the life that now is, and for that which is to come. "

JANE PORTER. 

BRISTOL, _November_, 1844. 

CONTENTS. 

 I. II. The Mill of Mariemont. III. The Opening of the Campaign. IV. The Pass of Volunna. V. The Banks of the Vistula. VI. Society in Poland. VII. The Diet of Poland. VIII. Battle of Brzesc--The Tenth of October. IX. The Last Days of Villanow. X. Sobieski's Departure from Warsaw. XI. The Baltic. XII. Thaddeus's First Day in England. XIII. The Exile's Lodgings. XIV. A Robbery and its Consequences. XV. The Widow's Family. XVI. The Money-Lender. XVII. The Meeting of Exiles. XVIII. The Veteran's Narrative. XIX. Friendship a Staff in Human Life. XX. Woman's Kindness. XXI. Fashionable Sketches from the Life. XXII. Honorable Resources of an Exile. XXIII. XXIV. Lady Tinemouth's Boudoir. XXV. The Countess of Tinemouth's Story. XXVI. The Kindredship of Minds. XXVII. Such Things Were. XXVIII. Mary Beaufort and her Venerable Aunt. XXIX. Hyde Park. XXX. Influences of Character. XXXI. The Great and the Small of Society. XXXII. The Obduracy of Vice--The Inhumanity of Folly. XXXIII. Passion and Principle. XXXIV. Requiescat in Pace. XXXV. Deep are the Purposes of Adversity. XXXVI. An English Prison. XXXVII. XXXVIII. Zeal is Power. XXXIX. The Vale of Grantham--Belvoir. XL. Somerset Castle. XLI. The Maternal Heart. XLII. Harrowby Abbey. XLIII. The Old Village Hotel. XLIV. Letters of Farewell. XLV. Deerhurst. XLVI. The Spirit of Peace. XLVII. An Avowal. XLVIII. A Family Party. XLIX. L. APPENDIX. 

CHAPTER I. 

The large and magnificent palace of Villanow, whose vast domainsstretch along the northern bank of the Vistula, was the favoriteresidence of John Sobieski, King of Poland. That monarch, afterhaving delivered his country from innumerable enemies, rescued Viennaand subdued the Turks, retired to this place at certain seasons, andthence dispensed those acts of his luminous and benevolent mind whichrendered his name great and his people happy. 

When Charles the Twelfth of Sweden visited the tomb of Sobieski, atCracow, he exclaimed, "What a pity that so great a man should everdie!" [Footnote: In the year 1683, this hero raised the siege ofVienna, then beleagured by the Turks; and driving them out of Europe, saved Christendom from a Mohammedan usurpation. ] Another generationsaw the spirit of this lamented hero revive in the person of hisdescendant, Constantine, Count Sobieski, who, in a comparativelyprivate station, as Palatine of Masovia, and the friend rather thanthe lord of his vassals, evinced by his actions that he was theinheritor of his forefather's virtue as well as of his blood. 

He was the first Polish nobleman who granted freedom to his peasants. He threw down their mud hovels and built comfortable villages; hefurnished them with seed, cattle, and implements of husbandry, andcalling their families together, laid before them the deed of theirenfranchisement; but before he signed it, he expressed a fear thatthey would abuse this liberty of which they had not had experience, and become licentious. 

"No, " returned a venerable peasant; "when we were ignorant men, andpossessed no property of our own except these staffs in our hands, wewere destitute of all manly motives for propriety of conduct; but youhave taught us to read out of the Holy Book, how to serve God andhonor the king. And shall we not respect laws which thus bestow onus, and ensure to us, the fruits of our labors and the favor ofHeaven!"

The good sense and truth of this answer were manifested in the event. On the emancipation of these people, they became so prosperous inbusiness and correct in behavior, that the example of the palatinewas speedily followed by the Chancellor Zamoiski [Footnote: Thisfamily had ever been one of the noblest and most virtuous in Poland. And had its wisdom been listened to in former years by certainpowerful and wildly ambitious lords that once great kingdom wouldnever have exchanged its long line of hereditary native-princes foran elective monarchy--that arena of all political mischiefs. ] andseveral of the principal nobility. The royal Stanislaus's beneficentspirit moved in unison with that of Sobieski, and a constitution wasgiven to Poland to place her in the first rank of free nations. 

Encircled by his happy tenantry, and within the bosom of his family, this illustrious man educated Thaddeus, the only male heir of hisname, to the exercise of all the virtues which ennoble and endear thepossessor. 

But this reign of public and domestic peace was not to continue. Three formidable and apparently friendly states envied the effects ofa patriotism they would not imitate; and in the beginning of the year1792, regardless of existing treaties, broke in upon the unguardedfrontiers of Poland, threatening with all the horrors of a mercilesswar the properties, lives, and liberties of the people. 

The family of Sobieski had ever been foremost in the ranks of theircountry; and at the present crisis its venerable head did not hangbehind the youngest warrior in preparations for the field. 

On the evening of an anniversary of the birthday of his grandson, thepalatine rode abroad with a party of friends, who had beencelebrating the festival with their presence. The countess (hisdaughter) and Thaddeus were left alone in the saloon. She sighed asshe gazed on her son, who stood at some distance, fitting to hisyouthful thigh a variety of sabres, which his servant a little timebefore had laid upon the table. She observed with anxiety theeagerness of his motion, and the ardor that was flashing from hiseyes. 

"Thaddeus, " said she, "lay down that sword; I wish to speak withyou. " Thaddeus looked gayly up. "My dear Thaddeus!" cried his mother, and tears started to her eyes. The blush of enthusiasm faded from hisface; he threw the sabre from him, and drew near the countess. 

"Why, my dear mother, do you distress yourself? When I am in battle, shall I not have my grandfather near me, and be as much under theprotection of God as at this moment?"

"Yes, my child, " answered she, "God will protect you. He is theprotector of the orphan, and you are fatherless. " The countesspaused--"Here, my son, " said she, giving him a sealed packet, "takethis; it will reveal to you the history of your birth and the name ofyour father. It is necessary that you should know a painful fact, which has hitherto been concealed from you by the wish and noblejudgment of your grandfather. " Thaddeus received it, and stood silentwith surprise. "Read it, my love, " continued she, "but go to your ownapartments; here you may be interrupted. "

Bewildered by the manner of the countess, Thaddeus, withoutanswering, instantly obeyed. Shutting himself within his study, heimpatiently opened the papers, and soon found his whole attentionabsorbed in the following recital. 

"TO MY DEAR SON, THADDEUS CONSTANTINE SOBIESKI. 

"You are now, my Thaddeus, at the early age of nineteen, going toengage the enemies of your country. Ere I resign my greatest comfortto the casualties of war; ere I part with you, perhaps forever, Iwould inform you who your father really was--that father whoseexistence you have hardly known and whose name you have never heard. You believe yourself an orphan, your mother a widow; but, alas! Ihave now to tell you that you were made fatherless by the perfidy ofman, not by the dispensation of Heaven. 

"Twenty-three years ago, I accompanied my father in a tour throughGermany and Italy. Grief for the death of my mother had impaired hishealth, and the physicians ordered him to reside in a warmer climate;accordingly we fixed ourselves near the Arno. During several visitsto Florence, my father met in that city with a young Englishman ofthe name of Sackville. These frequent meetings opened into intimacy, and he was invited to our villa. 

"Mr. Sackville was not only the most interesting man I had ever seen, but the most accomplished, and his heart seemed the seat of everygraceful feeling. He was the first man for whose society I felt alively preference. I used to smile at this strange delight, orsometimes weep; for the emotions which agitated me were undefinable, but they were enchanting, and unheedingly I gave them indulgence. Thehours which we passed together in the interchange of reciprocalsentiments, the kind beaming of his looks, the thousand sighs that hebreathed, the half-uttered sentences, all conspired to rob me ofmyself. 

"Nearly twelve months were spent in these delusions. During the lastthree, doubts and anguish displaced the blissful reveries of aninfant tenderness. The attentions of Mr. Sackville died away. Frombeing the object of his constant search, he then sedulously sought toavoid me. When my father withdrew to his closet, he would take hisleave, and allow me to walk alone. Solitary and wretched were myrambles. I had full leisure to compare my then disturbed state ofmind with the comparative peace I had enjoyed in my own country. Immured within the palace of Villanow, watching the declining healthof my mother, I knew nothing of the real world, the little I hadlearned of society being drawn from books; and, uncorrected byexperience, I was taught to believe a perfection in man which, to myaffliction, I since found to be but a poet's dream. When my fathertook me to Italy, I continued averse to public company. In suchseclusion, the presence of Sackville, being almost my only pleasure, chased from my mind its usual reserve, and gradually and surely wonupon the awakened affections of my heart. Artless and unwarned, Iknew not the nature of the passion which I cherished until it hadgained an ascendancy that menaced my life. 

"On the evening of one of those days in which I had been disappointedof seeing this too-dearly-prized companion, I strolled out, and, hardly conscious of my actions, threw myself along the summit of aflight of steps in our garden that led down to the Arno. My headrested against the base of a statue which, because of its resemblanceto me, Sackville had presented to my father. Every recollectedkindness of his now gave me additional torment; and clinging to thepedestal as to the altar of my adoration, in the bitterness ofdisappointment I addressed the insensible stone: 'O! were I pale asthou art, and this breast as cold and still, would Sackville, when helooked on me, give one sigh to the creature he had destroyed? My sobsfollowed this adjuration, and the next moment I felt myself encircledin his arms. I struggled, and almost fainting with shame at suchutter weakness, implored to be released. He did release me, and, inan agony of emotion, besought my pardon for the misery I had endured. 'Now, Therese, ' cried he, 'all is as it ought to be! you are my onlyhope. Consent to be mine, or the world has no hold on me!' His voicewas hurried and incoherent. Raising my eyes to his, I beheld themwild and bloodshot. Terrified at his look, and overcome by my owndistracted thoughts, my head sunk on the marble. With increasedviolence he exclaimed, 'Have I deceived myself here too? Therese, didyou not prefer me? Did you not love me? Speak now, I conjure you, byyour own happiness and mine! Do you reject me?' He clasped my handswith a force that made me tremble, and I hardly articulated, 'I willbe yours. ' At these words he hurried me down a dark vista, which ledout of the gardens to the open country. A carriage stood at the gate. I fearfully asked what he intended. 'You have given yourself to me, 'cried he; 'and by that vow, written in heaven, no power shallseparate us until you are mine beyond the reach of man!' Unnerved inbody and weak in mind, I yielded to his impetuosity, and sufferinghim to lift me into the chariot, was carried to the door of thenearest monastery, where in a few minutes we were married. 

"I am thus particular in the relation of every incident, in the hopethat you, my dear son, will find some excuse for my greatimprudence, --in the circumstances of my youth, and in the influencewhich a man who seemed all excellence had gained over my heart. However, my fault went not long unpunished. 

"The ceremony past, my husband conducted me in silence back to thecarriage. My full bosom discharged itself in abundance of tears, while Sackville sat by me, without any movement, and mute. Two orthree times I raised my eyes, in hopes of discerning in his someconsolation for my hasty compliance. But no; his gaze, vacant andglaring, was fixed on the window, and his brow became heavilyclouded, as if he had been forced into an alliance with one he hated, rather than had just made a voluntary engagement with the woman heloved. My soul shuddered at this commencement of a contract which Ihad dared to make unsanctioned by my father's consent. At length mysighs seemed to startle my husband; and suddenly turning round, hecried, 'Therese, this marriage must not be told to the palatine. Ihave been precipitate. It would ruin me with my family. Refrain, onlyfor one month, and then I will publicly acknowledge you. ' Theagitation of his features and the feverish burning of his hand, whichthen held mine, alarmed me. Trembling from head to foot, I answered, 'Sackville! I have already erred enough in consenting to this stolenmarriage. I will not transgress further by concealing it. I willinstantly throw myself at my father's feet, and confess all. ' Hiscountenance darkened again. 'Therese, ' said he, 'I am your husband. You have sworn to obey me, and till I allow you, divulge thismarriage at your peril!' This last stern sentence, and the sternerlook that accompanied it, pierced me to the heart, and I fellsenseless on the seat. 

"When I recovered, I found myself at the foot of that statue beneathwhich my unfortunate destiny had been fixed. My husband was leaningover me. He raised me with tenderness from the ground, and conjuredme, in the mildest accents, to be comforted; to pardon the severityof those words, which had arisen from a fear that, by an imprudentavowal on my part, I should risk both his happiness and my own. Heinformed me that he was heir to one of the first families in England;and before he set out for the continent, he had pledged his honor tohis father never to enter into any matrimonial engagement withoutfirst acquainting him with the particulars of the lady and herfamily. Should he omit this duty, his father declared that, thoughshe were a princess, he would disinherit him, and never again admithim to his presence. 

"'Consider this, my dear Therese, ' continued he; 'could you endure tobehold me an outcast, and stigmatized with a parent's curse, when alittle forbearance on your part would make all right? I know I havebeen hasty in acting as I have done, but now I cannot remedy myerror. To-morrow I will write to my father, describe your rank andmerits, and request his consent to our immediate union. The momenthis permission arrives, I will cast myself on the palatine'sfriendship, and reveal what has passed. ' The tenderness of my husbandblinded my reason, and with many tears, I sealed his forgiveness andpledged my faith on his word. 

"My dear deceived parent little suspected the perfidy of his guest. He detained him as his visitor, and often rallied himself on the holdwhich this distinguished stranger's accomplishments had taken on hisheart. Sackville's manner to me in public was obliging and free; itwas in private only that I found the tender, the capricious, theunkind husband. Night after night I have washed the memory of my wantof duty to my father with bitter tears; but my husband was dear tome--he was more precious than my life! One affectionate look fromhim, one fond word, would solace every pain, and make me wait thearrival of his father's letter with all the sanguine anticipations ofyouth and love. 

"A fortnight passed away. A month--a long and lingering month. Another month, and a packet of letters was presented to Sackville. Hewas conversing with us. At sight of the superscription, he tore openthe paper, ran his eyes over a few lines, and then, flushed andagitated, started from his seat and left the room. My emotions werealmost uncontrollable. I had already half risen from my chair tofollow him, when the palatine exclaimed, 'What can be in that letter?Too plainly I see some afflicting tidings. ' And without observing me, or waiting for a reply, he hurried out after him. I hastened to mychamber, where, throwing myself on my bed, I tried, by all thedelusions of hope, to obtain some alleviation from the pangs of mysuspense. 

"The dinner-bell roused me from my reverie. Dreading to excitesuspicion, and anxious to read in the countenance of my husband thedenunciation of our fate, I obeyed the summons and descended to thedining-room. On entering it, my eyes irresistibly wandered round tofix themselves on Sackville. He was leaning against a pillar, hisface pale as death. My father looked grave, but immediately took hisseat, and tenderly placed his friend beside him. I sat down insilence. Little dinner was eaten, and few words spoken. As formyself, my agitation almost choked me. I felt that the first words Ishould attempt to pronounce must give them utterance, and that theirvehemence would betray our fatal secret. 

"When the servants had withdrawn, Sackville rose, and said, in afaltering voice, 'Count, I must leave you. ' 'Nay, ' replied thepalatine; 'you are unwell--disturbed--stay till to-morrow. ' 'I thankyour excellency, ' answered he, 'but I must go to Florence to-night. You shall see me again before to-morrow afternoon; all will then, Ihope, be settled to my wish. ' My husband took his hat. Motionless, and incapable of speaking, I sat fixed to my chair, in the direct waythat he must pass. His eye met mine. He stopped and looked at me, abruptly snatched my hand; then as abruptly quitting it, darted outof the room. I never saw him more. 

"I had not the power to dissemble another moment. I fell back intothe arms of my father. He did not, even by this imprudence, read whatI almost wished him to guess, but, with all the indulgence of perfectconfidence, lamented the distress of Sackville, and the sensibilityof my nature, which sympathized so painfully with his friend. I durstnot ask what was the distress of his friend. Abashed at my duplicityto my father, and overwhelmed with a thousand dreads, I obtained hispermission to retire to my chamber. 

"The next day I met him with calmness, for I had schooled my heart toendure the sufferings it had deserved. He did not remark my recoveredtranquillity, so entirely was his generous heart occupied inconjecturing the cause of Sackville's grief, who had acknowledgedhaving received a great shock, but would not reveal the occasion. This double reserve to my father surprised and distressed me, and toall his suppositions I said little. My soul was too deeply interestedin the subject to trust to the faithfulness of my lips. 

"The morning crept slowly on, and the noon appeared to stand still. Ianxiously watched the declining sun, as the signal for my husband'sreturn. Two hours had elapsed since his promised time, and my fathergrew so impatient that he went out to meet him. I eagerly wished thatthey might miss each other. I should then see Sackville a few minutesalone, and by one word be comforted or driven to despair. 

"I was listening to every footstep that sounded under the colonnade, when my servant brought me a letter which had just been left by oneof Mr. Sackville's grooms. I broke open the seal, and fell senselesson the floor ere I had read half the killing contents. "

Thaddeus, with a burning cheek, and a heart all at once robbed ofthat elastic spring which till now had ever made him the happiest ofthe happy, took up the letter of his father. The paper was worn, andblistered with his mother's tears. His head seemed to swim as hecontemplated the handwriting, and he said to himself, "Am I torespect or to abhor him?" He proceeded in the perusal. 

"TO THERESE, COUNTESS SOBIESKI. 

"How, Therese, am I to address you? But an attempt to palliate myconduct would be to no purpose; indeed it is impossible. You cannotconceive a viler opinion of me than I have of myself. I know that Iforfeit all claim to honor, in the most delicate point of your nobleand trusting heart!--that I have sacrificed your tenderness to mydistracted passions; but you shall no more be subject to the capricesof a man who cannot repay your innocent love with his own. _You_have no guilt to torture you; and you possess virtues which willrender you tranquil under every calamity. I leave you to your ownpurity, and, therefore, peace of mind. Forget the ceremony which haspassed between us; my wretched heart disclaims it forever. Yourfather is happily ignorant of it; pray spare him the anguish ofknowing that I was so utterly unworthy of his kindness; I feel that Iam more than ungrateful to you and to him. Therese, your mostinveterate hate cannot more strongly tell me than I can tell myselfthat to you I have been a villain. But I cannot retract. I am goingwhere all search will be vain; and I now bid you an eternal farewell. May you be happier than ever can be the self-abhorring. 

 "R. S------. " "FLORENCE. "

Thaddeus, after a brief pause, went on with his mother's narrative. 

"When my senses returned, I was lying on the floor, holding the half-perused paper in my hand. Grief and horror had locked up the avenuesof complaint, and I sat as one petrified to stone. My father entered. At the sight of me, he started as if he had been a spectre. His well-known features opened at once my agonized heart. With fearful cries Icast myself at his feet, and putting the letter into his hand, clung, almost expiring, to his knees. 

"When he had read it, he flung it from him, and dropping into achair, covered his face with his hands. I looked up imploringly, forI could not speak. My father stooped forward, and raising me in hisarms, pressed me to his bosom. 'My Therese, ' said he, 'it is I whohave done this. Had I not harbored this villain, he never could havehad an opportunity of ruining the peace of my child. ' In return forthe unexampled indulgence of this speech, and his repeated assurancesof forgiveness, I promised to forget a man who could have had solittle respect for truth and gratitude, and his own honor. Thepalatine replied that he expected such a resolution, in consequenceof the principles my exemplary mother had taught me; and to show mehow far dearer to him was my real tranquillity than any false idea ofimpossible restitution, he would not remove even from oneprincipality to another, were he sure by that means to discover Mr. Sackville and to avenge my wrongs. My understanding assented to thejustice and dignity of all he said; but long and severe were mystruggles before I could erase from my soul the image of that beingwho had been the lord of all my young hopes. 

"It was not until you, my dear Thaddeus, were born that I could repaythe goodness of my father with the smiles of cheerfulness. And hewould not permit me to give you any name which could remind him ormyself of the faithless husband who knew not even of your existence;and by his desire I christened you Thaddeus Constantine, afterhimself, and his best beloved friend General Kosciusko. You have notyet seen that illustrious Polander; his prescient watchfulness forhis country keeps him so constantly employed on the frontiers. He isnow with the army at Winnica, whither you must soon go; and in himyou may study one of the brightest models of patriotic and martialvirtue that ever was presented to mankind. It is well said of him'that he would have shone with distinguished lustre in the ages ofchivalry. ' Gallant, generous, and strictly just, he commandsobedience by the reverence in which he is held, and attaches thetroops to his person by the affability of his manners and the purityof his life. He teaches them discipline, endurance of fatigue, andcontempt of danger, by his dauntless example, and inspires them withconfidence by his tranquillity in the tumult of action and theinvincible fortitude with which he meets the most adverse stroke ofmisfortune. His modesty in victory shows him to be one of thegreatest among men, and his magnanimity under defeat confirms him tobe a Christian hero. 

"Such is the man whose name you share. How bitterly do I lament thatthe one to which nature gave you a claim was so unworthy to be unitedwith it, and that of my no less heroic father!

"On our return to Poland, the story which the palatine related, whenquestioned about my apparently forlorn state, was simply this:--'Mydaughter was married and widowed in the course of two months. Sincethen, to root from her memory as much as possible all recollection ofa husband who was only given to be taken away, she still retains myname; and her son, as my sole heir, shall bear no other. ' This replysatisfied every one; the king, who was my father's only confidant, gave his sanction to it, and no further inquiries were ever made. 

"You are now, my beloved child, entering on the eventful career oflife. God only knows, when the venerable head of your grandfather islaid in dust, and I, too, have shut my eyes upon you in this world, where destiny may send you! perhaps to the country of your father. Should you ever meet him--but that is unlikely; so I will be silenton a thought which nineteen years of reflection have not yet deprivedof its sting. 

"Not to embitter the fresh spring of your youth, my Thaddeus, withthe draught that has poisoned mine: not to implant in your breasthatred of a parent whom you may never behold, have I written this;but to inform you in fact from whom you sprung. My history is madeplain to you, that no unexpected events may hereafter perplex youropinion of your mother, or cause a blush to rise on that cheek forher, which from your grandfather can derive no stain. For his sake aswell as for mine, whether in peace or in war, may the angels ofheaven guard my boy! This is the unceasing prayer of thy fond mother, "THERESE, COUNTESS SOBIESKI. 

"VILLANOW, _March_, 1792. "

 When he finished reading, Thaddeus held the papers in his hand; but, unable to recover from the shock of their contents, he read them asecond time to the end; then laying them on the table, against whichhe rested his now aching head, he gave vent to the fulness of hisheart in tears. 

The countess, anxious for the effect which her history might havemade on her son, at this instant entered the room. Seeing him in sodejected an attitude, she approached, and pressing him to her bosom, silently wept with him. Thaddeus, ashamed of his emotions, yetincapable of dissembling them, struggled a moment to release himselffrom her arms. The countess, mistaking his motive, said in amelancholy voice, "And do you, my son, despise your mother for theweakness which she has revealed? Is this the reception that Iexpected from a child on whose affection I reposed my confidence andmy comfort?"

"No, my mother" replied Thaddeus; "it is your afflictions which havedistressed me. This is the first unhappy hour I ever knew, and canyou wonder I should be affected? Oh! mother, " continued he, layinghis hand on his father's letter, "whatever were his rank, had myfather been but noble in mind, I would have gloried in bearing hisname; but now, I put up my prayers never to hear it more. "

"Forget him, " cried the countess, hiding her eyes with herhandkerchief. 

"I will, " answered Thaddeus, "and allow my memory to dwell on thevirtues of my mother only. "

It was impossible for the countess or her son to conceal theiragitation from the palatine, who now opened the door. On hisexpressing alarm at a sight so unusual, his daughter, finding herselfincapable of speaking, put into his hand the letter which Thaddeushad just read. Sobieski cast his eye over the first lines; hecomprehended their tendency, and seeing the countess had withdrawn, he looked towards his grandson. Thaddeus was walking up and down theroom, striving to command himself for the conversation he anticipatedwith his grandfather. 

"I am sorry, Thaddeus, " said Sobieski, "that your mother has soabruptly imparted to you the real country and character of yourfather. I see that his villany has distressed a heart which Heavenhas made alive to even the slightest appearance of dishonor. But beconsoled, my son! I have prevented the publicity of his conduct by anambiguous story of your mother's widowhood. Yet notwithstanding thisarrangement, she has judged it proper that you should not entergeneral society without being made acquainted with the true events ofyour birth. I believe my daughter is right. And cheer yourself, mychild! ever remembering that you are one of the noblest race inPoland! and suffer not the vices of one parent to dim the virtues ofthe other. "

"No, my lord, " answered his grandson; "you have been more than aparent to me; and henceforward, for your sake as well as my own, Ishall hold it my duty to forget that I draw my being from any othersource than that of the house of Sobieski. "

"You are right, " cried the palatine, with an exulting emotion; "youhave the spirit of your ancestors, and I shall live to see you addglory to the name!" [Footnote: John Sobieski, King of Poland, was themost renowned sovereign of his time. His victories over the Tartarsand the Turks obtained for him the admiration of Europe. Would itmight be said, "the gratitude also of her posterity!" For his signalcourage and wondrous generalship on the field of Vienna, against thelatter Mohammedan power, rescued Austria, and the chief part ofChristendom at that time, from their ruinous grasp. Where was thememory of these things, when the Austrian emperor marched hisdevastating legions into Poland, in the year 1793?]

The beaming eyes and smiling lips of the young count declared that hehad shaken sorrow from his heart. His grandfather pressed his handwith delight, and saw in his recovered serenity the sure promise ofhis fond prophecy. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE MILL OF MARIEMONT. 

The fearful day arrived when Sobieski and his grandson were to bidadieu to Villanow and its peaceful scenes. 

The well-poised mind of the veteran bade his daughter farewell with afortitude which imparted some of its strength even to her. But whenThaddeus, ready habited for his journey, entered the room, at thesight of his military accoutrements she shuddered; and when, with aglowing countenance, he advanced, smiling through his tears, towardsher, she clasped him in her arms, and riveted her lips to that facethe very loveliness of which added to her affliction. She gazed athim, she wept on his neck, she pressed him to her bosom. "Oh! howsoon might all that beauty be mingled with the dust! how soon mightthat warm heart, which then beat against hers, be pierced by thesword--be laid on the ground, mangled and bleeding, exposed andtrampled on!" These thoughts thronged upon her soul, and deprived herof sense. She was borne away by her maids, while the palatinecompelled Thaddeus to quit the spot. 

It was not until the lofty battlements of Villanow blended with theclouds that Thaddeus could throw off his melancholy. The partinggrief of his mother hung on his spirits; and heavy and frequent werehis sighs while he gazed on the rustic cottages and fertile fields, which reminded him that he was yet passing through the territories ofhis grandfather. The picturesque mill of Mariemont was the last spoton which his sight lingered. The ivy that mantled its sides sparkledwith the brightness of a shower which had just fallen; and the raysof the setting sun, gleaming on its shattered wall, made it an objectof such romantic beauty, that he could not help pointing it out tohis fellow-travellers. 

Whilst the eyes of General Butzou, who was in the carriage, followedthe direction of Thaddeus, the palatine observed the heighteninganimation of the old man's features; and recollecting at the sametime the transports which he himself had enjoyed when he visited thatplace more than twenty years before, he put his hand on the shoulderof the veteran, and exclaimed, "General, did you ever relate to myboy the particulars of that mill?"

"No, my lord. "

"I suppose, " continued the palatine, "the same reason deterred youfrom speaking of it, uncalled for, as lessened my wish to tell thestory? We are both too much the heroes of the tale to havevolunteered the recital. "

"Does your excellency mean, " asked Thaddeus, "the rescue of our kingfrom this place?"

"I do. "

"I have an indistinct knowledge of the affair, " continued hisgrandson, "from I forget who, and should be grateful to hear itclearly told me, while thus looking on the very spot. "

"But, " said the palatine, gayly, whose object was to draw hisgrandson from melancholy reflections, "what will you say to meturning egotist?"

"I now ask the story of you, " returned Thaddeus, smiling; "besides, as soldiers are permitted by their peaceful hearth to 'fight theirbattles o'er again, ' your modesty, my dear grandfather, cannot objectto repeat one to me on the way to more. "

"Then, as a preliminary, " said the palatine, "I must suppose it isunnecessary to tell you that General Butzou was the brave soldierwho, at the imminent risk of his own life, saved our sovereign. "

"Yes, I know that!" replied the young count, "and that you too had ashare in the honor: for when I was yesterday presented to hismajesty, amongst other things which he said, he told me that, underHeaven, he believed he owed his present existence to General Butzouand yourself. "

"So very little to me, " resumed the palatine, "that I will, to thebest of my recollection, repeat every circumstance of the affair. Should I err, I must beg of you, general" (turning to the veteran), "to put me right. "

Butzou, with a glow of honest exultation, nodded assent; and Thaddeusbowing in sign of attention, his smiling grandsire began. 

"It was on a Sunday night, the 3d of September, in the year 1771, that this event took place. At that time, instigated by the courts ofVienna and Constantinople, a band of traitorous lords, confederatedtogether, were covertly laying waste the country, and perpetratingall kinds of unsuspected outrage on their fellow-subjects who adheredto the king. 

"Amongst their numerous crimes, a plan was laid for surprising andtaking the royal person. Casimir Pulaski was the most daring of theirleaders; and, assisted by Lukawski, Strawenski, and Kosinski, threePoles unworthy of their names, he resolved to accomplish his designor perish. Accordingly, these men, with forty other conspirators, inthe presence of their commander swore with the most horrid oaths todeliver Stanislaus alive or dead into his hands. 

"About a month after this meeting, these three parricides of theircountry, at the head of their coadjutors, disguised as peasants, andconcealing their arms in wagons of hay, which they drove before them, entered the suburbs of Warsaw undetected. 

"It was about ten o'clock P. M. , on the 3d of September, as I havetold you, they found an apt opportunity to execute their scheme. Theyplaced themselves, under cover of the night, in those avenues, of thecity through which they knew his majesty must pass in his way fromVillanow, where he had been dining with me. His carriage was escortedby four of his own guards, besides myself and some of mine. We hadscarcely lost sight of Villanow, when the conspirators rushed out andsurrounded us, commanding the coachman to stop, and beating down theserving men with the butt ends of their muskets. Several shots werefired into the coach. One passed through my hat as I was getting out, sword in hand, the better to repel an attack the motive of which Icould not then divine. A cut across my right leg with a sabre laid meunder the wheels; and whilst in that situation, I heard the shotpouring into the coach like hail, and felt the villains stepping overmy body to finish the murder of their sovereign. 

"It was then that our friend Butzou (who at that period was a privatesoldier in my service) stood between his majesty and the rebels, parrying many a stroke aimed at the king; but at last, a thrust froma bayonet into his gallant defender's breast cast him weltering inhis blood upon me. By this time all the persons who had formed theescort were either wounded or dispersed, and George Butzou, ourfriend's only brother, was slain. So dropped one by one theprotectors of our trampled bodies and of our outraged monarch. Securethen of their prey, one of the assassins opened the carriage door, and with shocking imprecations seizing the king, discharged hispistol so near his majesty's face, that he felt the heat of theflash. A second villain cut him on the forehead with a sabre, whilstthe third, who was on horseback, laying hold of the king's collar, dragged him along the ground through the suburbs of the city. 

"During the latter part of this murderous scene, some of ouraffrighted people, who had fled, returned with a detachment, andseeing Butzou and me apparently lifeless, carried us to the royalpalace, where all was commotion and distraction. But the foot-guardsfollowed the track which the conspirators had taken. In one of thestreets they found the king's hat dyed in blood, and his pelissealso. This confirmed their apprehensions of his death; and they cameback filling all Warsaw with dismay. 

"The assassins, meanwhile, got clear of the town. Finding, however, that the king, by loss of blood, was not likely to exist much longerby dragging him towards their employer, and that delay might evenlose them his dead body, they mounted him, and redoubled their speed. When they came to the moat, they compelled him to leap his horseacross it. In the attempt the horse fell and broke its leg. They thenordered his majesty, fainting as he was, to mount another and spur itover. The conspirators had no sooner passed the ditch, and saw theirking fall insensible on the neck of his horse, than they tore fromhis breast the ribbon of the black eagle, and its diamond cross. Lukawski was so foolishly sure of his prisoner, dead or alive, thathe quitted his charge, and repaired with these spoils to Pulaski, meaning to show them as proofs of his success. Many of the otherplunderers, concluding that they could not do better than followtheir leader's example, fled also, tired of their work, leaving onlyseven of the party, with Kosinski at their head, to remain over theunfortunate Stanislaus, who shortly after recovered from his swoon. 

"The night was now grown so dark, they could not be sure of theirway; and their horses stumbling at every step, over stumps of treesand hollows in the earth, increased their apprehensions to such adegree, that they obliged the king to keep up with them on foot. Heliterally marked his path with his blood; his shoes having been tornoff in the struggle at the carriage. Thus they continued wanderingbackward and forward, and round the outskirts of Warsaw, without anyexact knowledge of their situation. The men who guarded him at lastbecame so afraid of their prisoner's taking advantage of thesecircumstances to escape, that they repeatedly called on Kosinski fororders to put him to death. Kosinski refused; but their demandsgrowing more imperious, as the intricacies of the forest involvedthem completely, the king expected every moment to find theirbayonets in his breast. 

"Meanwhile, " continued the palatine, "when I recovered from my swoonin the palace, my leg had been bound up, and I felt able to stir. Questioning the officers who stood about my couch, I found that ageneral panic had seized them. They knew not how to proceed; theyshuddered at leaving the king to the mercy of the confederates, andyet were fearful, by pursuing him further, to incense them throughterror or revenge to massacre their prisoner, if he were still alive. I did all that was in my power to dispel this last dread. Anxious, atany rate, to make another attempt to preserve him, though I could notride myself, I strenuously advised an immediate pursuit on horseback, and insisted that neither darkness nor apprehension of increasingdanger should be permitted to impede their course. Recovered presenceof mind in the nobles restored hope and animation to the terrifiedsoldiers, and my orders were obeyed. But I must add, they were soondisappointed, for in less than half an hour the detachment returnedin despair, showing me his majesty's coat, which they had found inthe fosse. I suppose the ruffians tore it off when they rifled him. It was rent in several places, and so wet with blood that the officerwho presented it to me concluded they had murdered the king there, and drawn away his body, for by the light of the torches the soldierscould trace drops of blood to a considerable distance. 

"Whilst I was attempting to invalidate this new evidence of hismajesty's being beyond the reach of succor, he was driven before theseven conspirators so far into the wood of Bielany, that, not knowingwhither they went, they came up with one of the guard-houses, and, totheir extreme terror, were accosted by a patrol. Four of the bandittiimmediately disappeared, leaving two only with Kosinski, who, muchalarmed, forced his prisoner to walk faster and keep a profoundsilence. Notwithstanding all this precaution, scarce a quarter of anhour afterwards they were challenged by a second watch; and the othertwo men taking flight, Kosinski, full of indignation at theirdesertion, was left alone with the king. His majesty, sinking withpain and fatigue, besought permission to rest for a moment; butKosinski refused, and pointing his sword towards the king, compelledhim to proceed. 

"As they walked on, the insulted monarch, who was hardly able to dragone limb after the other, observed that his conductor graduallyforgot his vigilance, until he was thoroughly given up to thought. The king conceived some hope from this change, and ventured to say 'Isee that you know not how to proceed. You cannot but be aware thatthe enterprise in which you are engaged, however it may end, is fullof peril to you. Successful conspirators are always jealous of eachother. Pulaski will find it as easy to rid himself of your life as itis to take mine. Avoid that danger, and I will promise you none on myaccount. Suffer me to enter the convent of Bielany: we cannot be farfrom it; and then, do you provide for your own safety. ' Kosinski, though rendered desperate by the circumstances in which he wasinvolved, replied, 'No; I have sworn, and I would rather sacrifice mylife than my honor. '

"The king had neither strength nor spirits to urge him further, andthey continued to break their way through the bewildering underwood, until they approached Mariemont. Here Stanislaus, unable to stiranother step, sunk down at the foot of the old yew-tree, and againimplored for one moment's rest. Kosinski no longer refused. Thisunexpected humanity encouraged his majesty to employ the minutes theysat together in another attempt to soften his heart, and to convincehim that the oath which he had taken was atrocious, and by no meansbinding to a brave and virtuous man. 

"Kosinski heard him with attention, and even showed he was affected. 'But, ' said he, 'if I should assent to what you propose, andreconduct you to Warsaw, what will be the consequence to me? I shallbe taken and executed. ' 'I give you my word, ' answered the king, 'that you shall not suffer any injury. But if you doubt my honor, escape while you can. I shall find some place of shelter, and willdirect your pursuers to take the opposite road to that which you maychoose. ' Kosinski, entirely overcome, threw himself on his kneesbefore his majesty, and imploring pardon from Heaven for what he haddone, swore that from this hour he would defend his king against allthe conspirators, and trust confidently in his word for futurepreservation. Stanislaus repeated his promise of forgiveness andprotection, and directed him to seek refuge for them both in the millnear which they were discoursing. Kosinski obeyed. He knocked, but noone gave answer. He then broke a pane of glass in the window, andthrough it begged succor for a nobleman who had been waylaid byrobbers. The miller refused to come out, or to let the applicants in, expressing his belief that they were robbers themselves, and if theydid not go away he would fire on them. 

"This dispute had continued some time, when the king contrived tocrawl up close to the windows and spoke. 'My good friend, ' said he, 'if we were banditti, as you suppose, it would be as easy for us, without all this parley, to break into your house as to break thispane of glass; therefore, if you would not incur the shame ofsuffering a fellow-creature to perish for want of assistance, give usadmittance. ' This plain argument had its weight upon the man, andopening the door, he desired them to enter. After some trouble, hismajesty procured pen and ink, and addressing a few lines to me at thepalace, with difficulty prevailed on one of the miller's sons tocarry it, so fearful were they of falling in with any of the troopwho they understood had plundered their guests. 

"My joy at the sight of this note I cannot describe. I well rememberthe contents; they were literally these:--

"'By the miraculous hand of Providence I have escaped from the handsof assassins. I am now at the mill of Mariemont. Send immediately andtake me hence. I am wounded, but not dangerously. '

"Regardless of my own condition, I instantly got into a carriage, andfollowed by a detachment of horse, arrived at the mill. I metKosinski at the door, keeping guard with his sword drawn. As he knewmy person, he admitted me directly. The king had fallen into a sleep, and lay in one corner of the hovel on the ground, covered with themiller's cloak. To see the most virtuous monarch in the world thusabused by a party of ungrateful subjects pierced me to the heart. Kneeling down by his side, I took hold of his hand, and in a paroxysmof tears, which I am not ashamed to confess, I exclaimed, 'I thankthee, Almighty God, that I again see our true-hearted sovereign stillalive!' It is not easy to say how these words struck the simplefamily. They dropped on their knees before the king, whom my voicehad awakened, and besought his pardon, for their recent opposition togive him entrance. The good Stanislaus soon quieted their fears, andgraciously thanking them for their kindness, told the miller to cometo the palace the next day, when he would show him his gratitude in abetter way than by promises. 

"The officers of the detachment then assisted his majesty and myselfinto the carriage, and accompanied by Kosinski, we reached Warsawabout six in the morning. "

"Yes, " interrupted Butzou; "I remember my tumultuous joy when thenews was brought to me in my bed that my brave brother had not diedin vain for his sovereign; it almost deprived me of my senses; andbesides, his majesty visited me, his poor soldier, in my chamber. Does not your excellency recollect how he was brought into my room ona chair, between two men? and how he thanked me, and shook hands withme, and told me my brother should never be forgotten in Poland? Itmade me weep like a child. "

"And he never can!" cried Thaddeus, hardly recovering from the deepattention with which he had listened to this recital. [Footnote: Theking had his brave defender buried with military honors, and caused anoble monument to be raised over him, with an inscription, of whichthe following is a translation:--

"Here lieth the respected remains of George Butzou, who, on the 3d ofSeptember, 1771, opposing his own breast to shield his sovereign fromthe weapons of national parricides, was pierced with a mortal wound, and triumphantly expired. Stanislaus the king, lamenting the death ofso faithful a subject, erects this monument as a tribute to him andan example of heroic duty to others. "] "But what became of Kosinski?For doubtless the king kept his word. "

"He did indeed, " replied Sobieski; "his word is at all times sacred. Yet I believe Kosinski entertained fears that he would not be sogenerous, for I perceived him change color very often while we werein the coach. However, he became tranquillized when his majesty, onalighting at the palace in the midst of the joyous cries of thepeople, leaned upon his arm and presented him to the populace as hispreserver. The great gate was ordered to be left open; and neverwhilst I live shall I again behold such a scene! Every loyal soul inWarsaw, from the highest to the lowest, came to catch a glimpse oftheir rescued sovereign. Seeing the doors free, they entered withoutceremony, and thronged forward in crowds to get near enough to kisshis hand, or to touch his clothes; then, elated with joy, they turnedto Kosinski, and loaded him with demonstrations of gratitude, callinghim the 'saviour of the king. ' Kosinski bore all this with surprisingfirmness; but in a day or two, when the facts became known, he fearedhe might meet with different treatment from the people, and thereforepetitioned his majesty for leave to depart. Stanislaus consented--andhe retired to Semigallia, where he now lives on a handsome pensionfrom the king. "

"Generous Stanislaus!" exclaimed the general; "you see, my dear youngcount, how he has rewarded me for doing that which was merely myduty. He put it at my option to become what I pleased about hisperson, or to hold an officer's rank in his body-guard. Love ennoblesservitude; and attached as I have ever been to your family, underwhom all my ancestors have lived and fought, I vowed in my own mindnever to quit it, and accordingly begged permission of my sovereignto remain with the Count Sobieski. I did remain; but see, " cried he, his voice faltering, "what my benefactors have made of me. I commandthose troops amongst whom it was once my greatest pride to be aprivate soldier. "

Thaddeus pressed the hand of the veteran between both his, andregarded him with respect and affection, whilst the grateful old manwiped away a gliding tear from his face. [Footnote: Lukawski andStrawenski were afterwards both taken, with others of theconspirators. At the king's entreaty, those of inferior rank werepardoned after condemnation; but the two noblemen who had deludedthem were beheaded. Pulaski, the prime ring-leader, escaped, to thewretched life of an outlaw and an exile, and finally died in America, in 1779. ]

"How happy it ought to make you, my son, " observed Sobieski, "thatyou are called out to support such a sovereign! He is not merely abrave king, whom you would follow to battle, because he will lead youto honor; the hearts of his people acknowledge him in a superiorlight; they look on him as their patriarchal head, as being delegatedof God to study what is their greatest good, to bestow it, and whenit is attacked, to de-fend it. To preserve the life of such asovereign, who would not sacrifice his own?"

"Yes, " cried Butzou; "and how ought we to abhor those who threatenhis life! How ought we to estimate those crowned heads who, under themask of amity, have from the year sixty-four, when he ascended thethrone, until now, been plotting his overthrow or death! Eithercalamity, O Heaven, avert! for his death, I fear, will be a preludeto the certain ruin of our country. "

"Not so, " interrupted Thaddeus, with eagerness; "not whilst aPolander has power to lift an arm in defence of a native king, and anhereditary succession, can she be quite lost! What was ever in thehearts of her people that is not now there? For one, I can neverforget how her sons have more than once rolled back on their ownlands legions of invaders, from those very countries now daring tothreaten her existence!"

Butzou applauded his spirit, and was warmly seconded by the palatine, who (never weary of infusing into every feeling of his grandson aninterest for his country) pursued the discourse, and dwelt minutelyon the happy tendency of the glorious constitution of 1791, indefence of which they were now going to hazard their lives. AsSobieski pointed out its several excellences, and expatiated on thepure spirit of freedom which animated its revived laws, the soul ofThaddeus followed his eloquence with all the fervor of youth, forgetting his late domestic regrets in the warm aspirations ofpatriotic hopes; and at noon on the third day, with smiling eyes hesaw his grandfather put himself at the head of his battalions andcommence a rapid march. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE OPENING OF THE CAMPAIGN. 

The little army of the palatine passed by the battlements of Chelm, crossed the Bug into the plains of Volhinia, and impatiently countedthe leagues over those vast tracts until it reached the borders ofKiovia. 

When the column at the head of which Thaddeus was stationed descendedthe heights of Lininy, and the broad camp of his countrymen burstupon his sight, his heart heaved with an emotion quite new to him. Hebeheld with admiration the regular disposition of the intrenchments, the long intersected tented streets, and the warlike appearance ofthe soldiers, whom he could descry, even at that distance, by thebeams of a bright evening sun which shone upon their arms. 

In half an hour his troops descended into the plain, where, meetingthose of the palatine and General Butzou, the three columns againunited, and Thaddeus joined his grandfather in the van. 

"My lord, " cried he, as they met, "can I behold such a sight anddespair of the freedom of Poland!"

Sobieski made no reply, but giving him one of those expressive looksof approbation which immediately makes its way to the soul, commandedthe troops to advance with greater speed. In a few minutes theyreached the outworks of the camp, and entered the lines. The eagereyes of Thaddeus wandered from object to object. Thrilling with thatdelight with which youth beholds wonders, and anticipates more, hestopped with the rest of the party before a tent, which GeneralButzou informed him belonged to the commander-in-chief. They were metin the vestibule by an hussar officer of a most commandingappearance. Sobieski and he having accosted each other with mutualcongratulations, the palatine turned to Thaddeus, took him by thehand, and presenting him to his friend, said with a smile, "Here, my dear Kosciusko, this young men is my grandson; he is calledThaddeus Sobieski, and I trust that he will not disgrace either ofour names!"

Kosciusko embraced the young count, and with a hearty pressure of hishand, replied, "Thaddeus, if you resemble your grandfather, you cannever forget that the only king of Poland who equalled our patrioticStanislaus was a Sobieski; and as becomes his descendant, you willnot spare your best blood in the service of your country. " [Footnote:Kosciusko, noble of birth, and eminently brave in spirit, had learntthe practice of arms in his early youth in America. During thecontest between the British colonies there and the mother country, the young Pole, with a few of his early compeers in the greatmilitary college at Warsaw, eager to measure swords in an actualfield, had passed over seas to British America, and offering theirservices to the independents, which were accepted, the extraordinarywarlike talents of Kosciusko were speedily honored by his being madean especial aid-de-camp to General Washington. When the war ended, inthe peace of mutual concessions between the national parent and itschildren on a distant land, the Poles returned to their nativecountry, where they soon met circumstances which caused them toredraw their swords for her. But to what issue, was yet behind thefloating colors of a soldier's hope. ]

As Kosciusko finished speaking, an aid-de-camp came forward to leadthe party into the room of audience. Prince Poniatowski welcomed thepalatine and his suite with the most lively expressions of pleasure. He gave Thaddeus, whose figure and manner instantly charmed him, manyflattering assurances of friendship, and promised that he wouldappoint him to the first post of honor which should offer. Afterdetaining the palatine and his grandson half an hour, his highnesswithdrew, and they rejoined Kosciusko, who conducted them to thequarter where the Masovian soldiers had already pitched their tents. 

The officers who supped with Sobieski left him at an early hour, thathe might retire to rest; but Thaddeus was neither able nor inclinedto benefit by their consideration. He lay down on his mattress, shuthis eyes, and tried to sleep; but the attempt was without success. Invain he turned from side to side; in vain he attempted to restricthis thoughts to one thing at once; his imagination was so roused byanticipating the scenes in which he was to become an actor, that hefound it impossible even to lie still. His spirits being quite awake, he determined to rise, and to walk himself drowsy. 

Seeing his grandfather sound asleep, he got up and dressed himselfquietly; then stealing gently from the marquée, he gave the word in alow whisper to the guard at the door, and proceeded down the lines. The pitying moon seemed to stand in the heavens, watching the awakingof those heroes who the next day might sleep to rise no more. Atanother time, and in another mood, such might have been hisreflections; but now he pursued his walk with different thoughts: nomeditations but those of pleasure possessed his breast. He looked onthe moon with transport; he beheld the light of that beautifulplanet, trailing its long stream of glory across the intrenchments. He perceived a solitary candle here and there glimmering through thecurtained entrance of the tents, and thought that their inmates wereprobably longing with the same anxiety as himself for the morning'sdawn. 

Thaddeus walked slowly on, sometimes pausing at the lonely footfallof the sentinel, or answering with a start to the sudden challengefor the parole; then lingering at the door of some of these canvasdwellings, he offered up a prayer for the brave inhabitant who, likehimself, had quitted the endearments of home to expose his life onthis spot, a bulwark of liberty. Thaddeus knew not what it was to bea soldier by profession; he had no idea of making war a trade, bywhich a man may acquire subsistence, and perhaps wealth; he had butone motive for appearing in the field, and one for leaving it, --torepel invasion and to establish peace. The first energy of his mindwas a desire to maintain the rights of his country; it had beeninculcated into him when an infant; it had been the subject of hismorning thoughts and nightly dreams; it was now the passion whichbeat in every artery of his heart. Yet he knew no honor in slaughter;his glory lay in defence; and when that was accomplished, his swordwould return to its scabbard, unstained by the blood of a vanquishedor invaded people. On these principles, he was at this hour full ofenthusiasm; a glow of triumph flitted over his cheek, for he had feltthe indulgences of his mother's palace, had left her maternal arms, to take upon him the toils of war, and risk an existence just blowninto enjoyment. A noble satisfaction rose in his mind; and with allthe animation which an inexperienced and raised fancy imparts to thatage when boyhood breaks into man, his soul grasped at every show ofcreation with the confidence of belief. Pressing the sabre which heheld in his hand to his lips, he half uttered, "Never shall thissword leave my arm but at the command of mercy, or when deathdeprives my nerves of their strength. "

Morning was tinging the hills which bound the eastern horizon ofWinnica before Thaddeus found that his pelisse was wet with dew, andthat he ought to return to his tent. Hardly had he laid his head uponthe pillow, and "lulled his senses in forgetfulness, " when he wasdisturbed by the drum beating to arms. He opened his eyes, and seeingthe palatine out of bed, he sprung from his own, and eagerly inquiredthe cause of his alarm. 

"Only follow me directly, " answered his grandfather, and quitted thetent. 

Whilst Thaddeus was putting on his clothes, and buckling on his armswith a trembling eagerness which almost defeated his haste, an aid-de-camp of the prince entered. He brought information that anadvanced guard of the Russians had attacked a Polish outpost, underthe command of Colonel Lonza, and that his highness had ordered adetachment from the palatine's brigade to march to its relief. BeforeThaddeus could reply, Sobieski sent to apprise his grandson that theprince had appointed him to accompany the troops which were turningout to resist the enemy. 

Thaddeus heard this message with delight; yet fearful in what mannerthe event might answer the expectations which this wished distinctiondeclared, he issued from his tent like a youthful Mars, --or ratherlike the Spartan Isadas, --trembling at the dazzling effects of histemerity, and hiding his valor and his blushes beneath the wavingplumes of his helmet. Kosciusko, who was to head the party, observedthis modesty with pleasure, and shaking him warmly by the hand, said, "Go, Thaddeus; take your station on the left flank; I shall requireyour fresh spirits to lead the charge I intend to make, and to ensureits success. " Thaddeus bowed to these encouraging words, and took hisplace according to order. 

Everything being ready, the detachment quitted the camp, and dashingthrough the dews of a sweet morning (for it was yet May), in a fewhours arrived in view of the Russian battalions. Lonza, who, from theonly redoubt now in his possession, caught a glimpse of this welcomereinforcement, rallied his few remaining men, and by the time thatKosciusko came up, contrived to join him in the van. The fightrecommenced. Thaddeus, at the head of his hussars, in full gallopbore down upon the enemy's right flank. They received the charge withfirmness; but their young adversary, perceiving that extraordinarymeans were necessary to make the desired effect, calling on his mento follow him, put spurs to his horse and rushed into the thickest ofthe battle. His soldiers did not shrink; they pressed on, mowing downthe foremost ranks, whilst he, by a lucky stroke of his sabre, disabled the sword-arm of the Russian standard-bearer and seized thecolors. His own troops seeing the standard in his hand, with oneaccord, in loud and repeated cries, shouted victory. Part of thereserve of the enemy, alarmed at this outcry, gave ground, andretreating with precipitation, was soon followed by some of the rearranks of the centre, to which Kosciusko had penetrated, while itscommander, after a short but desperate resistance, was slain. Theleft flank next gave way, and though holding a brave stand atintervals, at length fairly turned about and fled across the country. 

The conquerors, elated with so sudden a success, put their horses onfull speed; and without order or attention, pursued the fugitivesuntil they were lost amidst the trees of a distant wood. Kosciuskocalled on his men to halt, but he called in vain; they continuedtheir career, animating each other, and with redoubled shouts drownedthe voice of Thaddeus, who was galloping forward repeating thecommand. At the entrance of the wood they were stopped by a fewRussian stragglers, who had formed themselves into a body. These menwithstood the first onset of the Poles with considerable steadiness;but after a short skirmish, they fled, or, perhaps, seemed to fly, asecond time, and took refuge in the bushes, where, still regardlessof orders, their enemies followed. Kosciusko, foreseeing theconsequence of this rashness, ordered Thaddeus to dismount a part ofhis squadron, and march after these headstrong men into the forest. He came up with them on the edge of a heathy tract of land, just asthey were closing in with a band of the enemy's arquebusiers, who, having kept up a quick running fire as they retreated, had drawntheir pursuers thus far into the thickets. Heedless of anything butgiving their enemy a complete defeat, the Polanders went on, neverlooking to the left nor to the right, till at once they foundthemselves encompassed by two thousand Muscovite horse, severalbattalions of chasseurs, and in front of fourteen pieces of cannon, which this dreadful ambuscade opened upon them. 

Thaddeus threw himself into the midst of his countrymen, and takingthe place of their unfortunate conductor, who had been killed in thefirst sweep of the artillery, prepared the men for a desperate stand. He gave his orders with intrepid coolness--though under a shower ofmusketry and a cannonade which carried death in every round--thatthey should draw off towards the flank of the battery. He thought notof himself; and in a few minutes the scattered soldiers wereconsolidated into a close body, squared with pikemen, who stood likea grove of pines in a day of tempest, only moving their heads andarms. Many of the Russian horse impaled themselves on the sides ofthis little phalanx, which they vainly attempted to shake, althoughthe ordnance was rapidly weakening its strength. File after file themen were swept down, their bodies making a horrid rampart for theirresolute brothers in arms, who, however, rendered desperate, at lastthrew away their most cumbrous accoutrements, and crying to theirleader, "Freedom or death!" followed him sword in hand, and bearinglike a torrent upon the enemy's ranks, cut their way through theforest. The Russians, exasperated that their prey should not onlyescape, but escape by such dauntless valor, hung closely on theirrear, goading them with musketry, whilst they (like a wounded lionclosely pressed by the hunters, retreats, yet stands proudly at bay)gradually retired towards the camp with a backward step, their facestowards the foe. 

Meanwhile the palatine Sobieski, anxious for the fate of the day, mounted the dyke, and looked eagerly around for the arrival of somemessenger from the little army. As the wind blew strongly from thesouth, a cloud of dust precluded his view; but from the approach offiring and the clash of arms, he was led to fear that his friends hadbeen defeated, and were retreating towards the camp. He instantlyquitted the lines to call out a reinforcement; but before he couldadvance, Kosciusko and his squadron on the full charge appeared inflank of the enemy, who suddenly halted, and wheeling round, left theharassed Polanders to enter the trenches unmolested. 

Thaddeus, covered with dust and blood, flung himself into hisgrandfather's arms. In the heat of action his left arm had beenwounded by a Cossack. [Footnote: Cossacks. There are two descriptionsof these formidable auxiliaries: those of clear Tartar race, theother mixed with Muscovites and their tributaries. The first and thefiercest are called Don Cossacks, because of their inhabiting theimmense steppes of the Don river, on the frontiers of Asia. They aregoverned by a hetman, a native chief, who personally leads them tobattle. The second are the Cossacks of the Crimea, a gallant peopleof that finest part of the Russian dominions, and, by being of amingled origin, under European rule, are more civilized and betterdisciplined than their brethren near the Caucasus. They are generallycommanded by Russian officers. ] Aware that neglect then might disablehim from further service, at the moment it happened he bound it up inhis sash, and had thought no more of the accident until the palatineremarked blood on his cloak. 

"My injury is slight, my dear sir. " said he. "I wish to Heaven thatit were all the evil which has befallen us to-day! Look at theremnant of our brave comrades. "

Sobieski turned his eyes on the panting soldiers, and on Kosciusko, who was inspecting them. Some of them, no longer upheld bydesperation, were sinking with wounds and fatigue; these the goodgeneral sent off in litters to the medical department; and others, who had sustained unharmed the conflict of the day, after havingreceived the praise and admonition of their commander, were dismissedto their quarters. 

Before this inspection was over, the palatine had to assist Thaddeusto his tent; in spite of his exertions to the contrary, he became sofaint, it was necessary to lead him off the ground. 

A short time restored him. With his arm in a sling, he joined hisbrother officers on the fourth day. After the duty of the morning, heheard with concern that, during his confinement, the enemy hadaugmented their force to so tremendous a strength, it was impossiblefor the comparatively slender force of the Poles to remain longer atWinnica. In consequence of this report, the prince had convened acouncil late the preceding night, in which it was determined that thecamp should immediately be razed, and removed towards Zielime. 

This information displeased Thaddeus, who in his fairy dreams of warhad always made conquest the sure end of his battles; and many werethe sighs he drew when, at an hour before dawn on the following day, he witnessed the striking of the tents, which he thought too like aprelude to a shameful flight from the enemy. While he was standing bythe busy people, and musing on the nice line which divides prudencefrom pusillanimity, his grandfather came up, and bade him mount hishorse, telling him that, owing to the unhealed state of his wound, hewas removed from the vanguard, and ordered to march in the centre, along with the prince. Thaddeus remonstrated against thisarrangement, and almost reproached the palatine for forfeiting hispromise, that he should always be stationed near his person. Theveteran would not be moved, either by argument or entreaty; andThaddeus, finding that he neither could nor ought to oppose him, obeyed, and followed an aid-de-camp to his highness. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE PASS OF VOLUNNA. 

After a march of three hours, the army came in sight of Volunna, where the advanced column suddenly halted. Thaddeus, who was about ahalf mile to its rear, with a throbbing heart heard that a momentouspass must be disputed before they could proceed. He curbed his horse, then gave it the spur, so eagerly did he wish to penetrate the cloudof smoke which rose in volumes from the discharge of musketry, onwhose wing, at every round, he dreaded might be carried the fate ofhis grandfather. At last the firing ceased, and the troops werecommanded to go forward. On approaching near the contested defile, Thaddeus shuddered, for at every step the heels of his charger struckupon the wounded or the dead. There lay his enemies, here lay hisfriends! His respiration was nearly suspended, and his eyes clung tothe ground, expecting at each moment to fasten on the breathless bodyof his grandfather. 

Again the tumult of battle presented itself. About an hundredsoldiers, in one firm rank, stood at the opening of the pass, firingon the now vacillating steadiness of the enemy. Thaddeus checked hishorse. Five hundred had been detached to this post; how few remained!Could he hope that Sobieski had escaped so desperate a rencontre?Fearing the worst, and dreading to have those fears confirmed, hisheart sickened when he received orders from Poniatowski to examinethe extent of the loss. He rode to the mouth of the defile. He couldnowhere see the palatine. A few of his hussars, a little in advance, were engaged over a heap of the killed, defending it from a troop ofCossacks, who appeared fighting for the barbarous privilege oftrampling on the bodies. At this sight Thaddeus, impelled by despair, called out, "Courage, soldiers! The prince with artillery!" Theenemy, looking forward, saw the information was true, and with ashout of derision, took to flight. Poniatowski, almost at the word, was by the side of his young friend, who, unconscious of any idea butthat of filial solicitude, had dismounted. 

"Where is the palatine?" was his immediate inquiry to a chasseur whowas stooping towards the slain. The man made no answer, but liftedfrom the heap the bodies of two soldiers; beneath, Thaddeus saw thepale and deathly features of his grandfather. He staggered a fewpaces back, and the prince, thinking he was falling, hastened tosupport him; but he recovered himself, and flew forward to assistKosciusko, who had raised the head of the palatine upon his knee. 

"Is he alive?" inquired Thaddeus. 

"He breathes. "

Hope was now warm in his grandson's breast. The soldiers soonreleased Sobieski from the surrounding dead; but his swooncontinuing, the prince desired that he might be laid on a bank, untila litter could be brought from the rear to convey him to a place ofsecurity. Meantime, Thaddeus and General Butzou bound up his woundsand poured some water into his mouth. The effusion of blood beingstopped, the brave veteran opened his eyes, and in a few momentsmore, whilst he leaned on the bosom of his grandson, was so farrestored as to receive with his usual modest dignity the thanks ofhis highness for the intrepidity with which he had preserved apassage which ensured the safety of the whole army, Two surgeons, who arrived with the litter, relieved the anxiety ofthe bystanders by an assurance that the wounds, which they re-examined, were not dangerous. Having laid their patient on the vehicle, they werepreparing to retire with it into the rear, when Thaddeus petitioned theprince to grant him permission to take the command of the guard whichwas appointed to attend his grandfather. His highness consented; butSobieski positively refused. 

"No, Thaddeus, " said he; "you forget the effect which this solicitudeabout so trifling a matter might have on the men. Remember that hewho goes into battle only puts his own life to the hazard, but hethat abandons the field, sports with the lives of his soldiers. Donot give them leave to suppose that even your dearest interest couldtempt you from the front of danger when it is your duty to remainthere. " Thaddeus obeyed his grandfather in respectful silence; atseven o'clock the army resumed its march. 

Near Zielime the prince was saluted by a reinforcement. It appearedvery seasonably, for scouts had brought information that directlyacross the plain a formidable division of the Russian army, underGeneral Brinicki, was drawn up in order of battle, to dispute hisprogress. 

Thaddeus, for the first time, shuddered at the sight of the enemy, Should his friends be defeated, what might be the fate of hisgrandfather, now rendered helpless by many wounds! Occupied by thesefears, with anxiety in his heart, he kept his place at the head ofthe light horse, close to the hill. 

Prince Poniatowski ordered the lines to extend themselves, that theright should reach to the river, and the left be covered by therising ground, on which were mounted seven pieces of ordnance. Immediately after these dispositions, the battle commenced withmutual determination, and continued with unabated fury from eight inthe morning until sunset. Several times the Poles were driven fromtheir ground; but as often recovering themselves, and animated bytheir commanders, they prosecuted the fight with advantage. GeneralBrinicki, perceiving that the fortune of the day was going againsthim, ordered up the body of reserve, which consisted of four thousandmen and several cannon. He erected temporary batteries in a fewminutes, and with these new forces opened a rapid and destructivefire on the Polanders. Kosciusko, alarmed at perceiving a retrogrademotion in his troops, gave orders for a close attack on the enemy infront, whilst Thaddeus, at the head of his hussars, should wheelround the hill of artillery, and with loud cries charge the oppositeflank. This stratagem succeeded. The arquebusiers, who were posted onthat spot, seeing the impetuosity of the Poles, and the quarterwhence they came, supposed them to be a fresh squadron, gave ground, and opening in all directions, threw their own people into aconfusion that completed the defeat. Kosciusko and the prince wereequally successful, and a general panic amongst their adversaries wasthe consequence. The whole of the Russian army now took to flight, except a few regiments of carabineers, which were entangled betweenthe river and the Poles. These were immediately surrounded by abattalion of Masovian infantry, who, enraged at the loss their bodyhad sustained the preceding day, answered a cry for quarter withreproach and derision. At this instant the Sobieski squadron came up, and Thaddeus, who saw the perilous situation of these regiments, ordered the slaughter to cease, and the men to be taken prisoners. The Masovians exhibited strong signs of dissatisfaction at suchcommands; but the young count charging through them, ranged histroops before the Russians, and declared that the first man whoshould dare to lift a sword against his orders should be shot. ThePoles dropped their arms. The poor carabineers fell on their knees tothank his mercy, whilst their officers, in a sullen silence, whichseemed ashamed of gratitude, surrendered their swords into the handsof their deliverers. 

During this scene, only one very young Russian appeared whollyrefractory. He held his sword in a menacing posture when Thaddeusdrew near, and before he had time to speak, the young man made a cutat his head, which a hussar parried by striking the assailant to theearth, and would have killed him on the spot, had not Thaddeus caughtthe blow on his own sword; then instantly dismounting, he raised theofficer from the ground, and apologized for the too hasty zeal of hissoldier. The youth blushed, and, bowing, presented his sword, whichwas received and as directly returned. 

"Brave sir, " said Thaddeus, "I consider myself ennobled in restoringthis weapon to him who has so courageously defended it. "

The Russian made no reply but by a second bow, and put his hand onhis breast, which seemed wet with blood. Ceremony was now at an end. Thaddeus never looked upon the unfortunate as strangers, much less asenemies. Accosting the wounded officer with a friendly voice, heassured him of his services, and bade him lean on him. Overcome, theyoung man, incapable of speaking, accepted his assistance; but beforea conveyance could arrive, for which two men were dispatched, hefainted in his arms. Thaddeus being obliged to join the prince withhis prisoners, unwillingly left the young Russian in this situation;but before he did so he directed one of his lieutenants to take carethat the surgeons should pay attention to the officer, and have hislitter carried next to the palatine's during the remainder of themarch. 

When the army halted at nine o'clock, P. M. , preparations were made tofix the camp; and in case of a surprise from any part of thedispersed enemy which might have rallied, orders were delivered forthrowing up a dyke. Thaddeus, having been assured that hisgrandfather and the wounded Russian were comfortably stationed neareach other, did not hesitate to accept the command of the intrenchingparty. To that end he wrapped himself loosely in his pelisse, andprepared for a long watch. The night was beautiful. It being themonth of June, a softening warmth still floated through the air, asif the moon, which shone over his head, emitted heat as well assplendor. His mind was in unison with the season. He rode slowlyround from bank to bank, sometimes speaking to the workers in thefosse, sometimes lingering for a few minutes. Looking on the ground, he thought on the element of which he was composed, to which he mightso soon return; then gazing upward, he observed the silent march ofthe stars and the moving scene of the heavens. On whatever object hecast his eyes, his soul, which the recent events had dissolved into atemper not the less delightful for being tinged with melancholy, meditated with intense compassion, and dwelt with wonder on the mindof man, which, whilst it adores the Creator of the universe, andmeasures the immensity of space with an expansion of intellect almostdivine, can devote itself to the narrow limits of sublunarypossessions, and exchange the boundless paradise above for the lowenjoyments of human pride. He looked with pity over that wide tractof land which now lay betwixt him and the remains of those fourthousand invaders who had just fallen victims to the insatiatedesires of ambition. He well knew the difference between a defenderof his own country and the invader of another's. His heart beat, hissoul expanded, at the prospect of securing liberty and life to avirtuous people. He _felt_ all the happiness of such an achievement, while he could only _imagine_ how that spirit must shrink fromreflection which animates the self-condemned slave to fight, notmerely to fasten chains on others, but to rivet his own the closer. The best affections of man having put the sword into the hand ofThaddeus, his principle as a Christian did not remonstrate againsthis passion for arms. 

When he was told the fortifications were finished, he retired with atranquil step towards the Masovian quarters. He found the palatineawake, and eager to welcome him with the joyful information that hiswounds were so slight as to promise a speedy amendment, Thaddeusasked for his prisoner. The palatine answered that he was in the nexttent, where a surgeon closely attended him, who had already given avery favorable opinion of the wound, which was in the muscles of thebreast. 

"Have you seen him, my dear sir?" inquired Thaddeus. 

"Yes, " replied the palatine; "I was supported into his marquée beforeI retired to my own. I told him who I was, and repeated your offersof service. He received my proffer with expressions of gratitude, andat the same time declared he had nothing to blame but his own follyfor bringing him to the state in which he now lies. "

"How, my lord?" rejoined Thaddeus. "Does he repent of being asoldier? or is he ashamed of the cause for which he fought?"

"Both, Thaddeus; he is not a Muscovite, but a young Englishman. "

"An Englishman! and raise his arm against a country struggling forloyalty and liberty!"

"It is very true, " returned the palatine; "but as he confesses it washis folly and the persuasions of others which impelled him, he may bepardoned. He is a mere youth; I think hardly your age. I understandthat he is of rank; and having undertaken a tour in whatever part ofEurope is now open to travellers, under the direction of anexperienced tutor, they took Russia in their route. At St. Petersburghe became intimate with many of the nobility, particularly with CountBrinicki, at whose house he resided; and when the count was named tothe command of the army in Poland, Mr. Somerset (for that is yourprisoner's name), instigated by his own volatility and the argumentsof his host, volunteered with him, and so followed his friend tooppose that freedom here which he would have asserted in his ownnation. "

Thaddeus thanked his grandfather for this information; and pleasedthat the young man, who had so much interested him, was a braveBriton, not in heart an enemy, he gayly and instantly repaired to histent. 

A generous spirit is as eloquent in acknowledging benefits as it isbounteous in bestowing them; and Mr. Somerset received his preserverwith the warmest demonstrations of gratitude. Thaddeus begged him notto consider himself as particularly obliged by a conduct which everysoldier of honor has a right to expect from another. The Englishmanbowed his head, and Thaddeus took a seat by his bedside. 

Whilst he gathered from his own lips a corroboration of the narrativeof the palatine, he could not forbear inquiring how a person of hisapparent candor, and who was also the native of a soil where nationalliberty had so long been the palladium of its happiness, couldvolunteer in a cause the object of which was to make a brave peopleslaves?

Somerset listened to these questions with blushes; and they did notleave his face when he confessed that all he could say in extenuationof what he had done was to plead his youth, and having thought littleon the subject. 

"I was wrought upon, " continued he, "by a variety of circumstances:first, the predilections of Mr. Loftus, my governor, are strongly infavor of the court of St. Petersburg; secondly, my father dislikesthe army, and I am enthusiastically fond of it--this was the onlyopportunity, perhaps, in which I might ever satisfy my passion; andlastly, I believe that I was dazzled by the picture which the youngmen about me drew of the campaign. I longed to be a soldier; theypersuaded me; and I followed them to the field as I would have doneto a ballroom, heedless of the consequences. "

"Yet, " replied Thaddeus, smiling, "from the intrepidity with whichyou maintained your ground, when your arms were demanded, any onemight have thought that your whole soul, as well as your body, wasengaged in the cause. "

"To be sure, " returned Somerset, "I was a blockhead to be there; butwhen there, I should have despised myself forever had I given up myhonor to the ruffians who would have wrested my sword from me! Butwhen _you_ came, noble Sobieski, it was the fate of war, and Iconfided myself to a brave man. "

CHAPTER V. 

THE BANKS OF THE VISTULA. 

Each succeeding morning not only brought fresh symptoms of recoveryto the two invalids, but condensed the mutual admiration of the youngmen into a solid and ardent esteem. 

It is not the disposition of youthful minds to weigh for months andyears the sterling value of those qualities which attract them. Assoon as they see virtue, they respect it; as soon as they meetkindness, they believe it: and as soon as a union of both presentsitself, they love it. Not having passed through the disappointmentsof a delusive world, they grasp for reality every pageant whichappears. They have not yet admitted that cruel doctrine which, whenit takes effect, creates and extends the misery it affects to cure. Whilst we give up our souls to suspicion, we gradually learn todeceive; whilst we repress the fervors of our own hearts, we freezethose which approach us; whilst we cautiously avoid occasions ofreceiving pain, at every remove we acquire an unconscious influenceto inflict it on those who follow us. They, again, meet from ourconduct and lips the lesson that destroys the expanding sensibilitiesof their nature; and thus the tormenting chain of deceived anddeceiving characters may be lengthened to infinitude. 

About the latter end of the month, Sobieski received a summons tocourt, where a diet was to be held on the effect of the victory atZielime, to consider of future proceedings. In the same packet hismajesty enclosed a collar and investiture of the order of St. Stanislaus, as an acknowledgment of service to the young Thaddeus;and he accompanied it with a note from himself, expressing hiscommands that the young knight should return with the palatine andother generals, to receive thanks from the throne. 

Thaddeus, half wild with delight at the thoughts of so soon meetinghis mother, ran to the tent of his British friend to communicate thetidings. Somerset participated in his pleasure, and with reciprocalwarmth accepted the invitation to accompany him to Villanow. 

"I would follow you, my friend, " said he, pressing the hand ofThaddeus, "all over the world. "

"Then I will take you to the most charming spot in it?" cried he. "Villanow is an Eden; and my mother, the dear angel, would make adesert so to me. "

"You speak so rapturously of your enchanted castle, Thaddeus, "returned his friend, "I believe I shall consider my knight-errantry, in being fool enough to trust myself amidst a fray in which I had nobusiness, as one of the wisest acts of my life!"

"I consider it, " replied Thaddeus, "as one of the most auspiciousevents in mine. "

Before the palatine quitted the camp, Somerset thought it proper toacquaint Mr. Loftus, who was yet at St. Petersburg, of theparticulars of his late danger, and that he was going to Warsaw withhis new friends, where he should remain for several weeks. He added, that as the court of Poland, through the intercession of thepalatine, had generously given him his liberty, he should be able tosee everything in that country worthy of investigation, and that hewould write to him again, enclosing letters for England, soon afterhis arrival at the Polish capital. 

The weather continuing fine, in a few days the party left Zielime;and the palatine and Somerset, being so far restored from theirwounds that they could walk, the one with a crutch and the other bythe support of his friend's arm, they went through the journey withanimation and pleasure. The benign wisdom of Sobieski, theintelligent enthusiasm of Thaddeus, and the playful vivacity ofSomerset, mingling their different natures, produced such a beautifulunion, that the minutes flew fast as their wishes. A week morecarried them into the palatinate of Masovia, and soon afterwardswithin the walls of Villanow. 

Everything that presented itself to Mr. Somerset was new andfascinating. He saw in the domestic felicity of his friend sceneswhich reminded him of the social harmony of his own home. He beheldin the palace and retinue of Sobieski all the magnificence whichbespoke the descendant of a great king, and a power which wantednothing of royal grandeur but the crown, which he had the magnanimityto think and to declare was then placed upon a more worthy brow. Whilst Somerset venerated this true patriot, the high tone his mindacquired was not lowered by associating with characters nearer thecommon standard. The friends of Sobieski were men of tried probity--men who at all times preferred their country's welfare before theirown peculiar interest. Mr. Somerset day after day listened with deepattention to these virtuous and energetic noblemen. He saw them fullof fire and personal courage when the affairs of Poland werediscussed; and he beheld with admiration their perfect forgetfulnessof themselves in their passion for the general good. In these momentshis heart bowed down before them, and all the pride of a Britondistended his breast when he thought that such men as these hisancestors were. He remembered how often their chivalric virtues usedto occupy his reflections in the picture-gallery at Somerset Castle, and his doubts, when he compared what is with what was, that historyhad glossed over the actions of past centuries, or that a differentorder of men lived then from those which now inhabit the world. Thus, studying the sublime characters of Sobieski and his friends, andenjoying the endearing kindness of Thaddeus and his mother, did afortnight pass away without his even recollecting the promise ofwriting to his governor. At the end of that period, he stole an hourfrom the countess's society, and enclosed in a short letter to Mr. Loftus the following epistle to his mother:--

To LADY SOMERSET, SOMERSET CASTLE, LEICESTERSHIRE. 

"Many weeks ago, my dearest mother, I wrote a letter of seven sheetsfrom the banks of the Neva, which, long ere this time, you and mydear father must have received. I attempted to give you some idea ofthe manners of Russia, and my vanity whispers that I succeededtolerably well. The court of the famous Catharine and the attentionsof the hospitable Count Brinicki were then the subjects of my pen. 

"But how shall I account for my being here? How shall I allay yoursurprise and displeasure on seeing that this letter is dated fromWarsaw? I know that I have acted against the wish of my father invisiting one of the countries he proscribes. I know that I havedisobeyed your commands in ever having at any period of my life takenup arms without an indispensable necessity; and I have nothing toallege in my defence. I fell in the way of temptation, and I yieldedto it. I really cannot enumerate all the things which induced me tovolunteer with my Russian friends; suffice it to say that I did so, and that we were defeated by the Poles at Zielime; and as Heaven hasrather rewarded your prayers than punished my imprudence, I trust youwill do the same, and pardon an indiscretion I vow never to repeat. 

"Notwithstanding all this, I must have lost my life through my folly, had I not been preserved, even in the moment when death was pendingover me, by a young officer with whose family I now am. The verysound of their title will create your respect; for we of thepatrician order have a strange tenacity in our belief that virtue ishereditary, and in this instance our creed is duly honored. Theirpatronymic is Sobieski; the family which bears it is the onlyremaining posterity of the great monarch of that name; and the count, who is at its head, is Palatine of Masovia, which, next to thethrone, is the first dignity in the state. He is one of the warmestchampions of his country's rights; and though born to command, has sofar transgressed the golden adage of despots, 'Ignorance andsubjection, ' that throughout his territories every man is taught toworship his God with his heart as well as with his knees. Theunderstandings of his peasants are opened to all useful knowledge. Hedoes not put books of science and speculation into their hands, toconsume their time in vain pursuits: he gives them the Bible, andimplements of industry, to afford them the means of knowing and ofpractising their duty. All Masovia around his palace blooms like agarden. The cheerful faces of the farmers, and the blessings which Ihear them implore on the family when I am walking in the field withthe young count (for in this country the sons bear the same titlewith their fathers [Footnote: _Prince_, (ancient _Kniaz_) and_Boyard_, (which is equivalent in rank to our old English Baron, )are titles used by Russians and Polanders, both nations being descendedfrom the Sclavonians, and their languages derived from the same roots. _Prince_ indicates the highest rank of a subject; _Boyard_simply that of _Nobleman_. But both personages must be understoodto be of hereditary power to raise forces on their estates for the serviceof the sovereign, to lead them in battle, and to maintain all theirexpenses. The title of _Count_ has been adopted within a century ortwo by both nations, and occasionally appended to the ancient heroicdesignation of _Boyard_. The feminine to these titles is formed by adding_gina_ to the paternal title; thus _Kniazgina Olga_, means Princess Olga;also, _Boyarda_, Lady. The titles of _Palatine, Vaivode, Starost_and the like belong to civil and military offices. ]), have even drawna few delighted drops from the eyes of your thoughtless son. I knowthat you think I have nothing sentimental about me, else you wouldnot so often have poured into my not inattentive ears, 'that to estimatethe pleasures of earth and heaven, we must cultivate the sensibilitiesof the heart. Shut our eyes against them, and we are merely nicely-constructed speculums, which reflect the beauties of nature, butenjoy none. ' You see, mamma, that I both remember and adopt yourlessons. 

"Thaddeus Sobieski is the grandson of the palatine, and the sole heirof his illustrious race. It is to him that I owe the preservation ofmy life at Zielime, and much of my happiness since; for he is notonly the bravest but the most amiable young man in the kingdom; andhe is my friend! Indeed, as things have happened, you must think thatout of evil has come good. Though I have been disobedient, I haverepented my fault, and it has introduced me to the knowledge of apeople whose friendship will henceforward constitute the greatestpleasure of my days. The mother of Thaddeus is the only daughter ofthe palatine; and of her I can say no more than that nothing on earthcan more remind me of you; she is equally charming, equally tender toyour son. 

"Whilst the palatine is engaged at the diet, her excellency, Thaddeus, and myself, with now and then a few visitors from Warsaw, form the most agreeable parties you can suppose. We walk together, weread together, we converse together, we sing together--at least, thecountess sings to us, which is all the same; and you know that timeflies swiftly on the wings of harmony. She has an uncommonly sweetvoice, and a taste which I never heard paralleled. By the way, youcannot imagine anything more beautiful than the Polish music. Itpartakes of that delicious languor so distinguished in the Turkishairs, with a mingling of those wandering melodies which the now-forgotten composers must have caught from the Tartars. In short, whilst the countess is singing, I hardly suffer myself to breathe;and I feel just what our poetical friend William Scarsdale said atwelvemonth ago at a concert of yours, 'I feel as if love sat upon myheart and flapped it with his wings. '

"I have tried all my powers of persuasion to prevail on this charmingcountess to visit our country. I have over and over again told her ofyou, and described her to you; that you are near her own age (forthis lovely woman, though she has a son nearly twenty, is not morethan forty;) that you are as fond of your ordinary boy as she is ofher peerless one; that, in short, you and my father will receive herand Thaddeus, and the palatine, with open arms and hearts, if theywill condescend to visit our humbler home at the end of the war. Ibelieve I have repeated my entreaties, both to the countess and myfriend, regularly every day since my arrival at Villanow, but alwayswith the same issue: she smiles and refuses; and Thaddeus 'shakes hisambrosial curls' with a 'very god-like frown' of denial; I hope it isself-denial, in compliment to his mother's cruel and unprovokednegative. 

"Before I proceed, I must give you some idea of the real appearanceof this palace. I recollect your having read a superficial account ofit in a few slight sketches of Poland which have been published inEngland; but the pictures they exhibit are so faint, they hardlyresemble the original. Pray do not laugh at me, if I begin in theusual descriptive style! You know there is only one way to describehouses and lands and rivers; so no blame can be thrown on me fortaking the beaten path, where there is no other. To commence:--

"When we left Zielime, and advanced into the province of Masovia, thecountry around Praga rose at every step in fresh beauty. Thenumberless chains of gently swelling hills which encompass it on eachside of the Vistula were in some parts checkered with corn fields, meadows, and green pastures covered with sheep, whose soft bleatingsthrilled in my ears and transported my senses into new regions, sodifferent was my charmed and tranquillized mind from the tossinganxieties attendant on the horrors I had recently witnessed. Surelythere is nothing in the world, short of the most undivided reciprocalattachment, that has such power over the workings of the human heartas the mild sweetness of nature. The most ruffled temper, whenemerging from the town, will subside into a calm at the sight of awide stretch of landscape reposing in the twilight of a fine evening. It is then that the spirit of peace settles upon the heart, unfettersthe thoughts and elevates the soul to the Creator. It is then that webehold the Parent of the universe in his works; we see his grandeurin earth, sea, and sky: we feel his affection in the emotions whichthey raise, and, half mortal, half etherealized, forget where we are, in the anticipation of what that world must be of which this earth ismerely the shadow. [Footnote: This description of the banks of theVistula was given to me with smiles and sighs. The reality was onceenjoyed by the narrator, and there was a delight in the retrospection"sweet and mournful to the soul. " At the time these reflections aroseon such a scene, I often tasted the same pleasure in evening visitsto the beautiful rural environs of London, which then extended fromthe north side of Fitzroy Square to beyond the Elm Grove on PrimroseHill, and forward through the fields to Hampstead. But most of thatis all streets, or Regent's Park; and the sweet Hill, then the resortof many a happy Sunday group, has not now a tree standing on it, andhardly a blade of grass, "to mark where the primrose has been. "]

"Autumn seemed to be unfolding all her beauties to greet the returnof the palatine. In one part the haymakers were mowing the hay andheaping it into stacks; in another, the reapers were gathering up thewheat, with a troop of rosy little gleaners behind them, each of whommight have tempted the proudest Palemon in Christendom to havechanged her toil into 'a gentler duty. ' Such a landscape intermingledwith the little farms of these honest people, whom the philanthropyof Sobieski has rendered free (for it is a tract of his extensivedomains I am describing), reminded me of Somerset. Villages repose inthe green hollows of the vales, and cottages are seen peeping fromamidst the thick umbrage of the woods which cover the face of thehills. The irregular forms and thatched roofs of these simplehabitations, with their infant inhabitants playing at the doors, compose such lovely groups, that I wish for our dear Mary's penciland fingers (for, alas! that way mine are motionless!) to transportthem to your eyes. 

"The palace of Villanow, which is castellated, now burst upon myview. It rears its embattled head from the summit of a hill thatgradually slopes down towards the Vistula, in full view to the southof the plain of Vola, a spot long famous for the election of thekings of Poland. [Footnote: It was from this very assumption by thenation, on the extinction of the male line of the monarchs of thehouse of Jaghellon, that all their subsequent political calamitiesmay be dated. The last two sovereigns of this race were most justlystyled good and great kings---father and son--Sigismund I. And II. But on the death of the last, about the middle of the sixteenthcentury, certain nobles of the nation, intoxicated with their wealthand privileges, run wild for dictation in all things; and as thefoundation for such rule, they determined to make the succession oftheir future kings entirely dependent on the free vote of publicsuffrage; and the plain of Vola was made the terrible arena. So itmay be called; for, from the time of the first monarch so elected, Henry of Valois, a stranger to the country, and brother to theexecrable Charles IX. Of France, bribery or violence have been theusual keys to the throne of Poland. For the doors of the countrybeing once opened by the misguided people themselves to the influenceof ambition, partiality, and passion, and shut against the old tenureof a settled succession, foreign powers were always ready to step in, with the gold or the sword; and Poland necessarily became a vassaladjunct to whatever neighboring country furnished the new sovereign. Thus it was, with a few exceptions (as is still case of the gloriousJohn Sobieski), until the election of Stanislaus Augustus, who, though nominated by the power of the Empress of Russia, yet being, like Sobieski, a native prince of the nation, determined to governthe people of Poland in the spirit of his and their most gloriousancestors; and true to the vow, treading in the steps of the last ofthe Jaghellons, he gave to Poland the constitution of 1791, which, with the re-enaction of many wise laws, again made the thronehereditary. Hence the devoted struggles of every arm in the countryin loyal defence of such a recovered existence. ] On the north of thebuilding, the earth is cut into natural ramparts, which rise in highsuccession until they reach the foundations of the palace, where theyterminate in a noble terrace. These ramparts, covered with grass, overlook the stone outworks, and spread down to the bottom of thehill, which being clothed with fine trees and luxuriant underwood, forms such a rich and verdant base to the fortress as I have notlanguage to describe: were I privileged to be poetical, I would sayit reminds me of the God of war sleeping amid roses in the bower oflove. Here the eye may wander over the gifts of bounteous Nature, arraying hill and dale in all the united treasures of spring andautumn. The forest stretches its yet unseared arms to the breeze;whilst that breeze comes laden with the fragrance of the tented hay, and the thousand sweets breathed from flowers, which in thisdelicious country weep honey. 

"A magnificent flight of steps led us from the foot of the rampartsup to the gate of the palace. We entered it, and were presentlysurrounded by a train of attendants in such sumptuous liveries, thanI found myself all at once carried back into the fifteenth century, and might have fancied myself within the courtly halls of our Tudorsand Plantagenets. You can better conceive that I can paint the scenewhich took place between the palatine, the countess, and her son. Ican only repeat, that from that hour I have known no want ofhappiness but what arises from regret that my dear family are notpartakers with me. 

"You know that this stupendous building was the favorite residence ofJohn Sobieski, and that he erected it as a resting-place from thelabors of his long and glorious reign. I cannot move without meetingsome vestige of that truly great monarch. I sleep in his bed chamber:there hangs his portrait, dressed in the robes of sovereignty; hereare suspended the arms with which he saved the very kingdoms whichhave now met together to destroy his country. On one side is hislibrary; on the other, the little chapel in which he used to pay hismorning and evening devotions. Wherever I look, my eye finds someobject to excite my reflections and emulation. The noble dead seem toaddress me from their graves; and I blush at the inglorious life Imight have pursued had I never visited this house and itsinhabitants. Yet, my dearest mother, I do not mean to insinuate thatmy honored father and brave ancestors have not set me examples asbright as man need follow. But human nature is capricious; we are notso easily stimulated by what is always in our view as with sightswhich, rising up when we are removed from our customary associations, surprise and captivate our attention. Villanow has only awakened meto the lesson which I conned over in drowsy carelessness at home. Thaddeus Sobieski is hardly one year my senior; but, good heaven!what has he not done? what has he not acquired? Whilst I abused theindulgence of my parents, and wasted my days in riding, shooting, andwalking the streets, he was learning to act as became a man of rankand virtue; and by seizing every opportunity to serve the state, hehas obtained a rich reward in the respect and admiration of hiscountry. I am not envious, but I now feel the truth of Caesar'sspeech, when he declared 'The reputation of Alexander would not lethim sleep. ' Nevertheless, I dearly love my friend. I murmur at my owndements, not at his worth. 

"I have scribbled over all my paper, otherwise I verily believe Ishould write more; however, I promise you another letter in a week ortwo. Meanwhile I shall send this packet to Mr. Loftus, who is at St. Petersburg, to forward it to you. Adieu, my dear mother! I am, withreverence to my father and yourself. 

"Your truly affectionate son, "PEMBROKE SOMERSET. 

"VILLANOW, _August_, 1792. "

CHAPTER VI. 

SOCIETY IN POLAND. 

"TO LADY SOMERSET, SOMERSET CASTLE, ENGLAND. 

[Written three weeks after the preceding. ]

"You know, my dear mother, that your Pembroke is famous for hisingenious mode of showing the full value of every favor he confers!Can I then relinquish the temptation of telling you what I have leftto make you happy with this epistle?

"About five minutes ago, I was sitting on the lawn at the feet of thecountess, reading to her and the Princess Poniatowski the charmingpoem of 'The Pleasures of Memory. ' As both these ladies understandEnglish, they were admiring it, and paying many compliments to thegraces of my delivery, when the palatine presented himself, and toldme, if I had any commands for St. Petersburg, I must prepare them, for a messenger was to set off on the next morning, by daybreak. ' Iinstantly sprang up, threw my book into the hand of Thaddeus, andhere I am in my own room scribbling to you!

"Even at the moment in which I dip my pen in the ink, my hurryingimagination paints on my heart the situation of my beloved home whenthis letter reaches you. I think I see you and my good aunt, seatedon the blue sofa in your dressing-room, with your needle work on thelittle table before you; I see Mary in her usual nook--the recess bythe old harpsichord--and my dear father bringing in this happy letterfrom your son! I must confess this romantic kind of fancy-sketchingmakes me feel rather oddly: very unlike what I felt a few months ago, when I was a mere coxcomb--indifferent, unreflecting, unappreciating, and fit for nothing better than to hold pins at my lady's toilet. Well, it is now made evident to me that we never know the blessingsbestowed on us until we are separated from the possession of them. Absence tightens the strings which unites friends as well as lovers:at least I find it so; and though I am in the fruition of every goodon this side the ocean, yet my very happiness renders me ungrateful, and I repine because I enjoy it alone. Positively, I must bring youall hither to pass a summer, or come back at the termination of mytravels, and carry away this dear family by main force to England. 

"Tell my cousin Mary that, either way, I shall present to her esteemthe most amiable and accomplished of my sex; but I warn her not tofall in love with him, neither in _propriâ, personâ_, nor by hispublic fame, nor with his private character. Tell her 'he is a brightand particular star, ' neither in her sphere nor in any other woman's. In this way he is as cold as 'Dian's Crescent;' and to my greatamazement too, for when I throw my eyes over the many lovely youngwomen who at different times fill the drawing-room of the countess, Icannot but wonder at the perfect indifference with which he viewstheir (to me) irresistible charms. 

"He is polite and attentive to them all; he talks with them, smileswith them, and treats them with every gentle complacency; but they donot live one instant in his memory. I mean they do not occupy hisparticular wishes; for with regard to every respectful sentimenttowards the sex in general, and esteem to some amiable individuals, he is as awake as in the other case he is still asleep. The fact is, he has no idea of appropriation; he never casts one thought uponhimself; kindness is spontaneous in his nature; his sunny eyes beamon all with modest benignity, and his frank and glowing conversationis directed to every rank of people. They imbibe it with an avidityand love which makes its way to his heart, without kindling one sparkof vanity. Thus, whilst his fine person and splendid actions fillevery eye and bosom, I see him moving in the circle unconscious ofhis eminence and the admiration he excites. 

"Drawn by such an example, to which his high quality as well asextraordinary merit gives so great an influence, most of the youngernobility have been led to enter the army. These circumstances, addedto the detail of his bravery and uncommon talents in the field, havemade him an object of universal regard, and, in consequence, whereverhe is seen he meets with applause and acclamation: nay, even at theappearance of his carriage in the streets, the passengers take offtheir hats and pray for him till he is out of sight. It is only thenthat I perceive his cheek flush with the conviction that he is seatedin their hearts. 

"'It is this, Thaddeus, ' said I to him one day, when walking togetherwe were obliged to retire into a house from the crowds that followedhim; 'it is this, my dear friend, which shields your heart againstthe arrows of love. You have no place for that passion; your mistressis glory, and she courts you. '

"'My mistress is my country, ' replied he; 'at present I desire noother. For her I would die; for her only would I wish to live. 'Whilst he spoke, the energy of his soul blazed in his eye. I smiled. 

"'You are an enthusiast, Thaddeus, ' I said. 

"'Pembroke!' returned he, in a surprised and reproachful tone. 

"'I do not give you that name opprobriously, ' resumed I, laughing;'but there are many in my country, who, hearing these sentiments, would not scruple to call you mad. '

"'Then I pity them, ' returned Thaddeus. 'Men who cannot ardentlyfeel, cannot taste supreme happiness. My grandfather educated me atthe feet of patriotism; and when I forget his precepts and example, may my guardian angel forget me!'

"'Happy, glorious Thaddeus!' cried I, grasping his hand; 'how I envyyou your destiny! to live as you do, in the lap of honor, virtue andglory the aim and end of your existence!'

"The animated countenance of my friend changed at these words, andlaying his hand on my arm, he said, 'Do not envy me my destiny. Pembroke, you are the son of a free and loyal country, at peace withitself; insatiate power has not dared to invade its rights. Yourking, in happy security, reigns in the confidence of his people, whilst our anointed Stanislaus is baited and insulted by oppressionfrom without and ingratitude within. Do not envy me; I would ratherlive in obscurity all my days than have the means which calamity mayproduce of acquiring celebrity over the ruins of Poland. O! myfriend, the wreath that crowns the head of conquest is thick andbright; but that which binds the olive of peace on the bleedingwounds of my country will be the dearest to me. '

"Such sentiments, my clear madam, have opened new lights upon my poormistaken faculties. I never considered the subject so maturely as myfriend has done; victory and glory were with me synonymous words. Ihad not learned, until frequent conversations with the young, ardent, and pious Sobieski taught me, how to discriminate between animalcourage and true valor--between the defender of his country and theravager of other states. In short, I see in Thaddeus Sobieski allthat my fancy hath ever pictured of the heroic character. Whilst Icontemplate the sublimity of his sentiments and the tenderness of hissoul, I cannot help thinking how few would believe that so manyadmirable qualities could belong to one mind, and that mind remainunacquainted with the throes of ambition or the throbs of self-love. "

Pembroke judged rightly of his friend; for if ever the realdisinterested _amor patriæ_ glowed in the breast of a man, itanimated the heart of the young Sobieski. At the termination of theforegoing sentence in the letter to his mother, Pembroke wasinterrupted by the entrance of a servant, who presented him a packetwhich had that moment arrived from St. Petersburg. He took it, andputting his writing materials into a desk, read the following epistlefrom his governor:

"TO PEMBROKE SOMERSET, ESQ. 

"My dear sir, "I have this day received your letter, enclosing one for LadySomerset. You must pardon me that I have detained it, and willcontinue to do so until I am favored with your answer to this, forwhich I shall most anxiously wait. 

"You know, Mr. Somerset, my reputation in the sciences; you know mydepth in the languages; and besides, the Marquis of Inverary, withwhom I travelled over the Continent, offered you sufficientcredentials respecting my knowledge of the world, and the honorablemanner in which I treat my pupils. Sir Robert Somerset and your ladymother were amply satisfied with the account which his lordship gaveof my character; but with all this, in one point every man isvulnerable. No scholar can forget those lines of the poet:--

 'Felices ter, et amplius, Quos irrupta tenet copula; nec malis Divulsus quærimoniis, Supremâ citius solvet amor die. '

It has been my misfortune that I have felt them. 

"You are not ignorant that I was known to the Brinicki family, when Ihad the honor of conducting the marquis through Russia. The count'saccomplished kinswoman, the amiable and learned widow of BaronSurowkoff, even then took particular notice of me; and when Ireturned with you to St. Petersburg. I did not find that my shortabsence had obliterated me from her memory. 

"You are well acquainted with the dignity of that lady's opinions onpolitical subjects. She and I coincided in ardor for theconsolidating cause of sovereignty, and in hatred of that levellingpower which pervades all Europe. Many have been the long andinteresting conversations we have held together on the prosecution ofthe grand schemes of the three great contracting monarchs. 

"The baroness, I need not observe, is as handsome as she isingenuous; her understanding is as masculine as her person isdesirable; and I had been more or less than man had I not understoodthat my figure and talents were agreeable to her. I cannot say thatshe absolutely promised me her hand, but she went as far that way asdelicacy would permit. I am thus circumstantial, Mr. Somerset, toshow you that I do not proceed without proof, She has repeatedly saidin my presence that she would never marry any man unless he were notonly well-looking, but of the profoundest erudition, united with anacquaintance with men and manners which none can dispute. 'Besides, 'added she, 'he must not differ with me one tittle in politics, for onthat head I hold myself second to no man or woman in Europe. ' Andthen she has complimented me, by declaring that I possessed morejudicious sentiments on government than any man in St. Petersburg, and that she should consider herself happy, on the first vacancy inthe imperial college, to introduce me at court, where she was 'surethe empress would at once discover the value of my talents; but, ' shecontinued, 'in such a case, I will not allow that even her majestyshall rival me in your esteem. ' The modesty natural to my charactertold me that these praises must have some other source than mycomparatively unequal abilities; and I unequivocally found it in thepartiality with which her ladyship condescended to regard me. 

"Was I to blame, Mr. Somerset? Would not any man of sensibility andhonor have comprehended such advances from a woman of her rank andreputation? I could not be mistaken; her looks and words needed noexplanation which my judgment could not pronounce. Though I am awarethat I do not possess that _lumen purpureum juveniæ_ whichattracts very young, uneducated women, yet I am not much turned offifty; and from the baroness's singular behavior, I had every reasonto expect handsomer treatment than she has been pleased to dispenseto me since my return to this capital. 

"But to proceed regularly--(I must beg your pardon for the warmthwhich has hurried me to this digression): you know, sir, that fromthe hour in which I had the honor of taking leave of your noblefamily in England, I strove to impress upon your rather volatile minda just and accurate conception of the people amongst whom I was toconduct you. When I brought you into this extensive empire, I left nomeans unexerted to heighten your respect not only for its amiablesovereign, but for all powers in amity with her. It is thecharacteristic of genius to be zealous. I was so, in favor of thepretensions of the great Catherine to that miserable country in whichyou now are, and to which she deigned to offer her protection. Tothis zeal, and my unfortunate though honorable devotion to the wishesof the baroness, I am constrained to attribute my present dilemma. 

"When Poland had the insolence to rebel against its illustriousmistress, you remember that all the rational world was highlyincensed. The Baroness Surowkoff declared herself frequently, andwith vehemence she appealed to me. My veracity and my principles werecalled forth, and I confessed that I thought every friend to theTzaritza ought to take up arms against that ungrateful people. TheCount Brinicki was then appointed to command the Russian forcespreparing to join the formidable allies; and her ladyship, veryunexpectedly on my part, answered me by approving what I said, andadded that of course I meant to follow her cousin into Poland, forthat even she, as a woman, was so earnest in the cause, she wouldaccompany him to the frontiers, and there await the result. 

"What could I do? How could I withstand the expectations of a lady ofher quality, and one who I believed loved me? However, for some timeI did oppose my wish to oblige her; I urged my cloth, and theimpossibility of accounting for such a line of conduct to the fatherof my pupil? The baroness ridiculed all these arguments as mereexcuses, and ended with saying, 'Do as you please, Mr. Loftus. I havebeen deceived in your character; the friend of the Baroness Surowkoffmust be consistent; he must be as willing to fight for the cause heespouses as to speak for it: in this case, the sword must follow theoration, else we shall see Poland in the hands of a rabble. '

"This decided me. I offered my services to the count to attend him tothe field. He and the young lords persuaded you to do the same; andas I could not think of leaving you, when your father had placed youunder my charge, I was pleased to find that my approval confirmedyour wish to turn soldier. I was not then acquainted, Mr. Somerset(for you did not tell me of it until we were far advanced intoPoland), with Sir Robert's and my lady's dislike of the army. Thishas been a prime source of my error throughout this affair. Had Iknown their repugnance to your taking up arms, my duty would havetriumphed over even my devotion to the baroness; but I was born undera melancholy horoscope; nothing happens as any one of my humblestwishes might warrant. 

"At the first onset of the battle, I became so suddenly ill that Iwas obliged to retire; and on this unfortunate event, which wascompletely unwilled on my part (for no man can command the periods ofsickness), the baroness founded a contempt which has disconcerted allmy schemes. Besides, when I attempted to remonstrate with herladyship on the promise which, if not directly given, was implied, she laughed at me; and when I persisted in my suit, all at once, likethe rest of her ungrateful and undistinguishing sex, she burst into atempest of invectives, and forbade me her presence. 

"What am I now to do, Mr. Somerset? This inconsistent woman hasbetrayed me into conduct diametrically opposite to the commands ofyour family. Your father particularly desired that I would not sufferyou to go either into Hungary or Poland. In the last instance I havepermitted you to disobey him. And my Lady Somerset (who, alas! I nowremember lost both her father and brother in different engagements), you tell me, had declared that she never would pardon the man whoshould put military ideas into your head. 

"Therefore, sir, though you are my pupil, I throw myself on yourgenerosity. If you persist in acquainting your family with the latetransactions at Zielime, and your present residence in Poland, Ishall finally be ruined. I shall not only forfeit the good opinion ofyour noble father and mother, but lose all prospect of the living ofSomerset, which Sir Robert was so gracious as to promise should bemine on the demise of the present incumbent. You know, Mr. Somerset, that I have a mother and six sisters in Wales, whose support dependson my success in life; if my preferment be stopped now, they mustnecessarily be involved in a distress which makes me shudder. 

"I cannot add more, sir; I know well your character for generosity, and I therefore rest upon it with the utmost confidence. I shalldetain the letter which you did me the honor to enclose for my LadySomerset till I receive your decision; and ever, whilst I live, willI henceforth remain firm to my old and favorite maxim, which Iadopted from the glorious epistle of Horace to Numicius. Perhaps youmay not recollect the lines? They run thus:--

 Nil admirari, prope res est una, Numici, Solaque, quae possit facere et servare beatum. 

 "I have the honor to be, "Dear sir, "Your most obedient servant, "ANDREW LOFTUS. 

 "St. PETERSBURG, _September_, 1792. "

"P. S. Just as I was about sealing this packet, the Englishambassador forwarded to me a short letter from your father, in whichhe desires us to quit Russia, and to make the best of our way toEngland, where you are wanted on a most urgent occasion. He explainshimself no further, only repeating his orders in express commandsthat we set off instantly. I wait your directions. "

This epistle disconcerted Mr. Somerset. He always guessed theBaroness Surowkoff was amusing herself with his vain and pedanticpreceptor; but he never entertained a suspicion that her ladyshipwould carry her pleasantry to so cruel an excess. He clearly saw thatthe fears of Mr. Loftus with regard to the displeasure of his parentswere far from groundless; and therefore, as there was no doubt, fromthe extreme age of Dr. Manners, that the rectory of Somerset wouldsoon become vacant, he thought it better to oblige his poor governor, and preserve their secret for a month or two, than to give him up tothe indignation of Sir Robert. On these grounds, Pembroke resolved towrite to Mr. Loftus, and ease the anxiety of his heart. Although heridiculed his vanity, he could not help respecting the affectionatesolicitude of a son and a brother, and as that plea had won him, halfangry, half grieved, and half laughing, he dispatched a few hastylines. 

"To THE REVEREND ANDREW LOFTUS, ST. PETERSBURG. 

"What whimsical fit, my dear sir, has seized my father, that I amrecalled at a moment's notice? Faith, I am so mad at the summons, andat his not deigning to assign a reason for his order, that I do notknow how I may be tempted to act. 

"Another thing, you beg of me not to say a word of my having been inPoland; and for that purpose you have withheld the letter which Isent to you to forward to my mother! You offer far-fetched andprecious excuses for having betrayed your own wisdom, and yourpupil's innocence, into so mortal an offence. One cause of my beinghere, you say, was your 'ardor in the cause of insulted Russia, andyour hatred of that levelling power which pervades all Europe. '

"Well, I grant it. I understood from you and Brinicki that you wereleading me against a set of violent, discontented men of rank, who, in proportion as each was inflated with his own personal pride, despised all of their own order who did not agree with them, and, coalescing together under the name of freedom, were introducinganarchy throughout a country which Catharine would graciously haveprotected. All this I find to be in error. But both of you may havebeen misled: the count by partiality and you by misrepresentation;therefore I do not perceive why you should be in such a terror. Thewisest man in the world may see through bad lights; and why shouldyou think my father would never pardon you for having been sounlucky?

"Yet to dispel your dread of such tidings ruining you with SirRobert, I will not be the first to tell him of our quixoting. Onlyremember, my good sir, --though, to oblige you, I withhold my lettersto my mother, and when I arrive in England shall lock up my lips frommentioning Poland, --that positively, I will not be mute one daylonger than that in which my father presents you with the living ofSomerset; then you will be independent of his displeasure, and I may, and will, declare my everlasting gratitude to this illustriousfamily. 

"I am half mad when I think of leaving them. I must now tear myselffrom this mansion of comfort and affection, to wander with you insome rumbling old barouche 'over brake and through briar!' Well, patience! Another such upset to your friends of the Neva, and with'victory perched like an eagle on their laurelled brows, ' I may havesome chance of wooing the Sobieskis to the banks of the Thames. Atpresent, I have not sufficient hope to keep me in good-humor. 

"Meet me this day week at Dantzic: I shall there embark for England. You had best not bring the foreign servants with you; they mightblab. Discharge them at St. Petersburg, and hire a courier foryourself, whom we may drop at the seaport. 

"I have the honor to remain, "Dear sir, "Your most obedient servant, PEMBROKE SOMERSET. 

"VILLANOW, _September_, 1792. "

When Somerset joined his friends at supper, and imparted to them thecommands of his father, an immediate change was produced in thespirits of the party. During the lamentations of the ladies and themurmurs of the young men, the countess tried to dispel the effects ofthe information by addressing Pembroke with a smile, and saying, "Butwe hope that you have seen enough at Villanow to tempt you back againat no very distant period? Tell Lady Somerset you have left a secondmother in Poland, who will long to receive another visit from heradopted son. "

"Yes, my dear madam, " returned he; "and I shall hope, before a verydistant period, to see those two kind mothers united as intimately byfriendship as they are in my heart. "

Thaddeus listened with a saddened countenance. He had not beenaccustomed to the thought of a long separation, and when he met itnow, he hardly knew how to proportion his uneasiness to theprivation. Hope and all the hilarities of youth flushed in his soul;his features continually glowed with animation, whilst the gaybeaming of his eyes ever answered to the smile on his lips. Hence theslightest veering of his mind was perceptible to the countess, who, turning round, saw him leaning thoughtfully in his chair, whilstPembroke, with increasing vehemence, was running through variousinvectives against the hastiness of his recall. 

"Come, come, Thaddeus!" cried she; "let us think no more of thisparting until it arrives. You know that anticipation of evil is thedeath of happiness; and it will be a kind of suicide should wedestroy the hours we may yet enjoy together in vain complainings thatthey are so soon to terminate. "

A little exhortation from the countess, and a maternal kiss which sheimprinted on his cheek, restored him to cheerfulness, and the eveningpassed more pleasantly than it had portended. 

Much as the palatine esteemed Pembroke Somerset, his mind was toodeeply absorbed in the condition of the kingdom to attend to lessconsiderable cares. He beheld his country, even on the verge ofdestruction, awaiting with firmness the approach of the earthquakewhich threatened to ingulf it in the neighboring nations. He saw thestorm lowering; but he determined, whilst there remained one spot ofvantage ground above the general wreck, that Poland should yet have aname and a defender. These thoughts possessed him; these plansengaged him; and he had not leisure to regret pleasure when he wasstruggling for existence. 

The empress continued to pour her armies into the heart of thekingdom. The King of Prussia, boldly flying from his treaties, marched to bid her colors a conqueror's welcome; and the Emperor ofGermany, following the example of so great a prince, did not blush toshow that his word was equally contemptible. 

Dispatches daily arrived of the villages being laid waste; thatneither age, sex, nor situation shielded the unfortunate inhabitants, and that all the frontier provinces were in flames. 

The Diet was called, [Footnote: The constitutional Diet of Polandnearly answers in principle to the British three estates inParliament--King, Lords, and Commons. ] and the debates agitated withthe anxiety of men who were met to decide on their dearest interests. The bosom of the benevolent Stanislaus bled at the dreadful pictureof his people's sufferings, and hardly able to restrain his tears, heanswered the animated exordiums of Sobieski for resistance to thelast with an appeal immediately to his heart. 

"What is it that you urge me to do, my lord?" said he. "Was it not tosecure the happiness of my subjects that I labored? and finding mydesigns impracticable, what advantage would it be to them should Ipertinaciously oppose their small numbers to the accumulated array oftwo empires, and of a king almost as powerful as either. What is mykingdom but the comfort of my people? What will it avail me to seethem fall around me, man by man, and the few who remain bending inspeechless sorrow over their graves? Such a sight would break myheart. Poland without its people would be a desert, and I a hermitrather than a king. "

In vain the palatine combated these arguments, showing the vain quietsuch a peace might afford, by declaring it could only be temporary. In vain he told his majesty that he would purchase safety for thepresent race at the vast expense of not only the liberty ofposterity, but of its probity and happiness. 

"However you disguise slavery, " cried he, "it is slavery still. Itschains, though wreathed with roses, not only fasten on the body butrivet on the mind. They bend it from the loftiest virtue to adebasement beneath calculation. They disgrace honor; they trampleupon justice. They transform the legions of Rome into a band ofsingers. They prostrate the sons of Athens and of Sparta at the feetof cowards. They make man abjure his birth right, bind himself toanother's will, and give that into a tyrant's hands which he receivedas a deposit from Heaven--his reason, his conscience, and his soul. Think on this, and then, if you can, subjugate Poland to herenemies. "

Stanislaus, weakened by years and subdued by disappointment, nowretained no higher wish than to save his subjects from immediateoutrage. He did not answer the palatine, but with streaming eyes bentover the table, and annulled the glorious constitution of 1791. Thenwith emotions hardly short of agony, he signed an order presented bya plenipotentiary from the combined powers, which directed PrincePoniatowski to deliver the army under his command into the hands ofGeneral Brinicki. 

As the king put his signature to these papers, Sobieski, who hadstrenuously withstood each decision, started from his chair, bowed tohis sovereign, and in silence left the apartment. Several noblemenfollowed him. 

These pacific measures did not meet with better treatment fromwithout. When they were noised abroad, an alarming commotion aroseamong the inhabitants of Warsaw, and nearly four thousand men of thefirst families in the kingdom assembled themselves in the park ofVillanow, and with tumultuous eagerness declared their resolution toresist the invaders of their country to their last gasp. The PrinceSapieha, Kosciusko, and Sobieski, with the sage Dombrowski, were thefirst who took this oath of fidelity to Poland; and they administeredit to Thaddeus, who, kneeling down, inwardly invoked Heaven to aidhim, as he swore to fulfil his trust. 

In the midst of these momentous affairs, Pembroke Somerset bade adieuto his Polish friends, and set sail with his governor from Dantzicfor England. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE DIET OF POLAND. 

Those winter months which before this year had been at Villanow theseason for cheerfulness and festivity, now rolled away in the sadpomp of national debates and military assemblies. 

Prussia usurped the best part of Pomerelia, and garrisoned it withtroops; Catharine declared her dominion over the vast tract of landwhich lies between the Dwina and Borysthenes; and Frederick Williammarked down another sweep of Poland. To follow the fate of Dantzicand of Thorn, while watching the dark policy of Austria regarding itsselecting portions of the dismembering state. 

Calamities and insults were heaped day after day on the defencelessPoles. The deputies of the provinces were put into prison, and theprovisions intended for the king's table interrupted and appropriatedby the depredators to their own use. Sobieski remonstrated on thislast outrage; but incensed at reproof, and irritated at the swaywhich the palatine still held, an order was issued for all theSobieski estates in Lithuania and Podolia to be sequestrated anddivided between four of the invading generals. 

In vain the Villanow confederation endeavored to remonstrate with theempress. Her ambassador not only refused to forward the dispatches, but threatened the nobles "if they did not comply with every one ofhis demands, he would lay all the estates, possessions, andhabitations of the members of the Diet under an immediate militaryexecution. Nay, punishment should not stop there; for if the kingjoined the Sobieski party (to which he now appeared inclined), theroyal domains should not only meet the same fate, but harshertreatment should follow, until both the people and their proudsovereign were brought into due subjection. "

These menaces were too arrogant to have any other effect upon thePoles than that of giving a new spur to their resolution. With thesame firmness they repulsed similar fulminations from the Prussianambassador, and, with a coolness which was only equalled by theirintrepidity, they prepared to resume their arms. 

Hearing by private information that their threats were despised, nextmorning, before daybreak, these despotic envoys surrounded thebuilding where the confederation was sitting with two battalions ofgrenadiers and four pieces of cannon, and then issued orders that noPole should pass the gates without being fired on. GeneralRautenfeld, who was set over the person of the king, declared thatnot even his majesty might stir until the Diet had given an unanimousand full consent to the imperial commands. 

The Diet set forth the unlawfulness of signing any treaty whilst thuswithheld from the freedom of will and debate. They urged that it wasnot legal to enter into deliberation when violence had recently beenexerted against any individual of their body; and how could they doit now, deprived as they were of five of their principal members, whom the ambassadors well knew they had arrested on their way to theSenate? Sobieski and four of his friends being the members mostinimical to the oppression going on, were these five. In vain theirliberation was required; and enraged at the pertinacity of thisopposition, Rautenfeld repeated the former threats, with the additionof more, swearing that they should take place without appeal if theDiet did not directly and unconditionally sign the pretensions bothof his court and that of Prussia. 

After a hard contention of many hours, the members at last agreedamongst themselves to make a solemn public protest against thepresent tyrannous measures of the two ambassadors; and seeing thatany attempt to inspire them even with decency was useless, theydetermined to cease all debate, and kept a profound silence when themarshal should propose the project in demand. 

This sorrowful silence was commenced in resentment and retainedthrough despair; this sorrowful silence was called by their usurpersa consent; this sorrowful silence is held up to the world and toposterity as a free cession by the Poles of all those rights whichthey had received from nature, ratified by laws, and defended withtheir blood. [Footnote: Thus, like the curule fathers of Rome, theysat unyielding, awaiting the threatened stroke. But the dignity ofvirtue held her shield over them; and with an answering silence onthe part of the confederated ambassadors, the Diet-chamber wasvacated. ]

The morning after this dreadful day, the Senate met at one of theprivate palaces; and, indignant and broken-hearted, they deliveredthe following declaration to the people:--

 "The Diet of Poland, hemmed in by foreign troops, menaced with aninflux of the enemy, which would be attended by universal ruin, andfinally insulted by a thousand outrages, have been forced to witnessthe signing of a submissive treaty with their enemies. 

"The Diet had strenuously endeavored to have added to that treatysome conditions to which they supposed the lamentable state of thecountry would have extorted an acquiescence, even from the heart of aconqueror's power. But the Diet were deceived: they found such powerwas unaccompanied by humanity; they found that the foe, having thrownhis victim to the ground, would not refrain from exulting in thebarbarous triumph of trampling upon her neck. 

"The Diet rely on the justice of Poland--rely on her belief that theywould not betray the citadel she confided to their keeping. Herpreservation is dearer to them than their lives; but fate seems to beon the side of their destroyer. Fresh insults have been heaped upontheir heads and new hardships have been imposed upon them. To preventall deliberations on this debasing treaty, they are not onlysurrounded by foreign troops, and dared with hostile messages, butthey have been violated by the arrest of their prime members, whilstthose who are still suffered to possess a personal freedom have themost galling shackles laid upon their minds. 

"Therefore, I, the King of Poland, enervated by age, and sinkingunder the accumulated weight of my kingdom's afflictions, and alsowe, the members of the Diet, declare that, being unable, even by thesacrifice of our lives, to relieve our country from the yoke of itsoppressors, we consign it to our children and the justice of Heaven. 

"In another age, means may be found to rescue it from chains andmisery; but such means are not put in our power. Other countriesneglect us. Whilst they reprobate the violations which a neighboringnation is alleged to have committed against rational liberty, theybehold, not only with apathy but with approbation, the ravages whichare now desolating Poland. Posterity must avenge it. We have done. Weaccede in silence, for the reasons above mentioned, to the treatylaid before us, though we declare that it is contrary to our wishes, to our sentiments, and to our rights. "

Thus, in November, 1793, compressed to one fourth of her dimensionsby the lines of demarcation drawn by her invaders, Poland wasstripped of her rank in Europe; her "power delivered up to strangers, and her beauty into the hands of her enemies!" Ill-fated people!Nations will weep over your wrongs; whilst the burning blush ofshame, that their fathers witnessed such wrongs unmoved, shall causethe tears to blister as they fall. 

During these transactions, the Countess Sobieski continued insolitude at Villanow, awaiting with awful anxiety the termination ofthose portentous events which so deeply involved her own comfortswith those of her country. Her father was in prison, her son at adistance with the army. Sick at heart, she saw the opening of thatspring which might be the commencement only of a new season ofinjuries; and her fears were prophetic. 

It being discovered that some Masovian regiments in the neighborhoodof Warsaw yet retained their arms, they were ordered by the foreignenvoys to lay them down. A few, thinking denial vain, obeyed; butbolder spirits followed Thaddeus Sobieski towards South Prussia, whither he had directed his steps on the arrest of his grandfather, and where he had gathered and kept together a handful of brave men, still faithful to their liberties. His name alone collected numbersin every district through which he marched. Persecution from theiradversary as well as admiration of Thaddeus had given a resistlesspower to his appearance, look, and voice, all of which had such aneffect on the peasantry, that they eagerly crowded to his standard, whilst their young lords committed themselves without reserve to hissole judgment and command. The Prussian ambassador, hearing of this, sent to Stanislaus to command the grandson of Sobieski to disband histroops. The king refusing, and his answer being communicated to theRussian envoy also, war was renewed with redoubled fury. 

The palatine remained in confinement, hopeless of obtaining releasewithout the aid of stratagem. His country's enemies were too wellaware of their interest to give freedom to so active an opponent. They sought to vex his spirit with every mental torture; but herather received consolation than despair in the reports daily broughtto him by his jailers. They told him "that his grandson continued tocarry himself with such insolent opposition in the south, it would bewell if the empress, at the termination of the war, allowed him toescape with banishment to Siberia. " But every reproach thus levelledat the palatine he found had been bought by some new success ofThaddeus; and instead of permitting their malignity to intimidate hisage or alarm his affection, he told the officer (who kept guard inhis chambers) that if his grandson were to lose his head for fidelityto Poland, he should behold him with as proud an eye mounting thescaffold as entering the streets of Warsaw with her freedom in hishand. "The only difference would be, " continued Sobieski, "that asthe first cannot happen until all virtue be dead in this land, Ishould regard his last gasp as the expiring sigh of that virtuewhich, by him, had found a triumph even under the axe. But for thesecond, it would be joy unutterable to behold the victory of justiceover rapine and violence! But, either way, Thaddeus Sobieski is stillthe same--ready to die or ready to live for his country, and equallyworthy of the sacred halo with which posterity would encircle hisname forever. "

Indeed, the accounts which arrived from this young soldier, who hadformed a junction with General Kosciusko, were in the highest degreeformidable to the coalesced powers. Having gained several advantagesover the Prussians, the two victorious battalions were advancingtowards Inowlotz, when a large and fresh body of the enemy appearedsuddenly on their rear. The enemy on the opposite bank of the river, (whom the Poles were driving before them, ) at sight of thisreinforcement, rallied; and not only to retard the approach of thepursuers, but to ensure their defeat from the army in view, theybroke down the wooden bridge by which they had escaped themselves. The Poles were at a stand. Kosciusko proposed swimming across, butowing to the recent heavy rains, the river was so swollen and rapidthat the young captains to whom he mentioned the project, terrifiedby the blackness and dashing of the water, drew back. The general, perceiving their panic, called Thaddeus to him, and both plunged intothe stream. Ashamed of hesitation, the others now tried who couldfirst follow their example; and, after hard buffeting with its tide, the whole army gained the opposite shore. The Prussians who were inthe rear, incapable of the like intrepidity, halted; and those whohad crossed on their former defeat, now again intimidated at thedaring courage of their adversaries, concealed themselves amidst thethickets of an adjoining valley. 

The two friends proceeded towards Cracow, [Footnote: Cracow isconsidered the oldest regal city in Poland; the tombs of her earliestand noblest kings are there, John Sobieski's being one of the mostrenowned. It stands in a province of the same name, about 130 milessouth-west of Warsaw, the more modern capital of the kingdom, andalso the centre of its own province. ] carrying redress and protectionto the provinces through which they marched. But they had hardlyrested a day in that city before dispatches were received that Warsawwas lying at the mercy of General Brinicki. No time could be lost;officers and men had set their lives on the cause, and theyrecommenced their toil of a new march with a perseverance whichbrought them before the capital on the 16th of April. 

Things were in a worse state than even was expected. The threeambassadors had not only demanded the surrender of the nationalarsenal, but subscribed their orders with a threat that whoever ofthe nobles presumed to dispute their authority should be arrested andclosely imprisoned there; and if the people should dare to murmur, they would immediately order General Brinicki to lay the city inashes. The king remonstrated against such oppression, and to "punishhis presumption, " his excellency ordered that his majesty's garrisonand guards should instantly be broken up and dispersed. At the firstattempt to execute this mandate, the people flew in crowds to thepalace, and, falling on their knees, implored Stanislaus forpermission to avenge the insult offered to his troops. The kinglooked at them with pity, gratitude, and anguish. For some time hisemotions were too strong to allow him to speak; at last, in a voiceof agony, wrung from his tortured heart, he answered, "Go, and defendyour honor!"

The army of Kosciusko marched into the town at this critical moment;they joined the armed people; and that day, after a dreadfulconflict, Warsaw was rescued from the immediate grasp of the hoveringBlack Eagle. During the fight, the king, who was alone in one of therooms of his palace, sank in despair on the floor; he heard themingling clash of arms, the roar of musketry, and the cries andgroans of the combatants; ruin seemed no longer to threaten hiskingdom, but to have pounced at once upon her prey. At every renewedvolley which followed each pause in the firing, he expected to seehis palace gates burst open, and himself, then indeed made a willingsacrifice, immolated to the vengeance of his enemies. 

While he was yet upon his knees petitioning the God of battles for alittle longer respite from that doom which was to overwhelm devotedPoland, Thaddeus Sobieski, panting with heat and toil, flew into theroom, and before he could speak a word, was clasped in the arms ofthe agitated Stanislaus. 

"What of my people?" asked the king. 

"They are victorious!" returned Thaddeus. "The foreign guards arebeaten from the palace; your own have resumed their station at thegates. "

At this assurance, tears of joy ran over the venerable cheeks of hismajesty, and again embracing his young deliverer, he exclaimed, "Ithank Heaven, my unhappy country is not bereft of all hope! Whilst aKosciusko and a Sobieski live, she need not quite despair. They arethy ministers, O Jehovah, of a yet longer respite!"

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER VIII. 

BATTLE OF BRZESC--THE TENTH OF OCTOBER. 

Thaddeus was not less eager to release his grandfather than he hadbeen to relieve the anxiety of his sovereign. He hastened, at thehead of a few troops, to the prison of Sobieski, and gave himliberty, amidst the acclamations of his soldiers. 

The universal joy at these prosperous events did not last many days:it was speedily terminated by information that Cracow had surrenderedto a Prussian force, that the King of Prussia was advancing towardsthe capital, and that the Russians, more implacable in consequence ofthe late treatment their garrison had received at Warsaw, werepouring into the country like a deluge. 

At this intelligence the consternation became dreadful. The Polonesearmy in general, worn with fatigue and long service, and withoutclothing or ammunition, were not in any way, excepting courage, fitted for resuming the field. 

The treasury was exhausted, and means of raising a supply seemedimpracticable. The provinces were laid waste, and the city hadalready been drained of its last ducat. In this exigency a councilmet in his majesty's cabinet, to devise some expedient for obtainingresources. The consultation was as desponding as their situation, until Thaddeus Sobieski, who had been a silent observer, rose fromhis seat. Sudden indisposition had prevented the palatine attending, but his grandson knew well how to be his substitute. Whilst blushesof awe and eagerness crimsoned his cheek, he advanced towardsStanislaus, and taking from his neck and other parts of his dressthose magnificent jewels it was customary to wear in the presence ofthe king, he knelt down, and laying them at the feet of his majesty, said, in a suppressed voice, "These are trifles; but such as theyare, and all of the like kind which we possess, I am commanded by mygrandfather to beseech your majesty to appropriate to the publicservice. "

"Noble young man!" cried the king, raising him from the ground; "youhave indeed taught me a lesson. I accept these jewels with gratitude. Here, " said he, turning to the treasurer, "put them into the nationalfund, and let them be followed by my own, with my gold and silverplate, which latter I desire may be instantly sent to the mint. Threeparts the army shall have; the other we must expend in giving supportto the surviving families of the brave men who have fallen in ourdefence. " The palatine readily united with his grandson in thesurrender of all their personal property for the benefit of theircountry; and, according to their example, the treasury was soonfilled with gratuities from the nobles. The very artisans offeredtheir services gratis; and all hands being employed to forward thepreparations, the army was soon enabled to take the field, newlyequipped and in high spirits. 

The countess had again to bid adieu to a son who was now become asmuch the object of her admiration as of her love. In proportion asglory surrounded him and danger courted his steps, the strings ofaffection drew him closer to her soul; the "aspiring blood" of theSobieskis which beat in her veins could not cheer the dread of amother, could not cause her to forget that the spring of herexistence now flowed from the fountain which had taken its sourcefrom her. Her anxious and watching heart paid dearly in tears andsleepless nights for the honor with which she was saluted at everyturning as the mother of Thaddeus: that Thaddeus who was not more thespirit of enterprise, and the rallying point of resistance, than hewas to her the gentlest, the dearest, the most amiable of sons. Itmatters not to the undistinguishing bolt of carnage whether it strikecommon breasts or those rare hearts whose lives are usually as briefas they are dazzling; this leaden messenger of death banquets asgreedily on the bosom of a hero as if it had lit upon more vulgarprey; all is levelled to the seeming chance of war, which comes likea whirlwind of the desert, scattering man and beast in one wide ruin. 

Such thoughts as these possessed the melancholy but prayerfulreveries of the Countess Sobieski, from the hour in which she sawThaddeus and his grandfather depart for Cracow until she heard it wasretaken, and that the enemy were defeated in several subsequentcontests. 

Warsaw was again bombarded, and again Kosciusko, with the palatineand Thaddeus, preserved it from destruction. In short, wherever theymoved, their dauntless little army carried terror to its adversaries, and diffused hope through the homes and hearts of their countrymen. 

They next turned their course to the relief of Lithuania; but whilstthey were on their route thither, they received intelligence that adivision of the Poles, led by Prince Poniatowski, having been routedby a formidable body of Russians under Suwarrow, that general, elatedwith his success, was hastening forward to re-attack the capital. 

Kosciusko resolved to prevent him, prepared to give immediate battleto Ferfen, another Russian commander, who was on his march to form ajunction with his victorious countrymen. To this end Kosciuskodivided his forces; half of them to not only support the retreat ofthe prince, but to enable him to hover near Suwarrow, and to keep awatchful eye over his motions; whilst Kosciusko, accompanied by thetwo Sobieskis, would proceed with the other division towards Brzesc. 

It was the tenth of October. The weather being fine, a cloudless sundiffused life and brilliancy through the pure air of a keen morning. The vast green plain before them glittered with the troops of GeneralFerfen, who had already arranged them in order of battle. 

The word was given. Thaddeus, as he drew his sabre [Footnote: Thesabre (like the once famed claymore of Scotland) was thecharacteristic weapon of Poland. It was the especial appendage to thesides of the nobles;--its use, the science of their youth, theirornament and graceful exercise in peace, their most efficient manualpower of attack or defence in war. It is impossible for any but aneye-witness to have any idea of the skill, beauty, and determinationwith which this weapon was, and is, wielded in Poland. ] from itsscabbard, raised his eyes to implore the justice of Heaven on thatday's events. The attack was made. The Poles kept their station onthe heights. The Russians rushed on them like wolves, and twice theyrepulsed them by their steadiness. Conquest declared for Poland. Thaddeus was seen in every part of the field. But reinforcementspoured in to the support of Ferfen, and war raged in new horrors. Still the courage of the Poles was unabated. Sobieski, fighting atthe head of his cavalry, would not recede a foot, and Kosciusko, exhorting his men to be resolute, appeared in the hottest places ofthe battle. 

At one of these portentous moments, the commander-in-chief was seenstruggling with the third charger which had been shot under him thatday. Thaddeus galloped to his assistance, gave him his horse, mountedanother offered by a hussar, and remained fighting by his side, till, on the next charge, Kosciusko himself fell forward. Thaddeus caughthim in his arms, and finding that his own breast was immediatelycovered with blood, (a Cossack having stabbed the general through theshoulder, ) he unconsciously uttered a cry of horror. The surroundingsoldiers took the alarm, and "Kosciusko, our father, is killed!" wasechoed from rank to rank with such piercing shrieks, that the woundedhero started from the breast of his young friend just as two Russianchasseurs in the same moment made a cut at them both. The sabrestruck the exposed head of Kosciusko, who sunk senseless to theground, and Thaddeus received a gash near his neck that laid him byhis side. 

The consternation became universal; groans of despair seemed to issuefrom the whole army, whilst the few resolute Poles who had beenstationed near the fallen general fell in mangled heaps upon hisbreast. Thaddeus with difficulty extricated himself from the bodiesof the slain; and, fighting his way through the triumphant troopswhich pressed around him, amidst the smoke and confusion soon joinedhis terror-stricken comrades, who in the wildest despair weredispersing under a heavy fire, and flying like frighted deer. In vainhe called to them--in vain he urged them to avenge Kosciusko; thepanic was complete, and they fled. 

Almost alone, in the rear of his soldiers, he opposed with his singleand desperate arm party after party of the enemy, until a narrowstream of the Muchavez stopped his retreat. The waters were crimsonedwith blood. He plunged in, and beating the blushing wave with hisleft arm, in a few seconds gained the opposite bank, where, faintingfrom fatigue and loss of blood, he sunk, almost deprived of sense, amidst a heap of the killed. 

When the pursuing squadrons had galloped past him, he again summonedstrength to look round. He raised himself from the ground, and by thehelp of his sabre supported his steps a few paces further; but whatwas the shock he received when the bleeding and lifeless body of hisgrandfather lay before him? He stood for a few moments motionless andwithout sensation; then, kneeling down by his side, whilst he felt asif his own heart were palsied with death, he searched for the woundsof the palatine. They were numerous and deep. He would have torn awaythe handkerchief with which he had stanched his own blood to haveapplied it to that of his grandfather; but in the instant he was sodoing, feeling the act might the next moment disable himself fromgiving him further assistance, he took his sash and neck-cloth, andwhen they were insufficient, he rent the linen from his breast; thenhastening to the river, he brought a little water in his cap, andthrew some of its stained drops on the pale features of Sobieski. 

The venerable hero opened his eyes; in a minute afterwards herecognized that it was his grandson who knelt by him. The palatinepressed his hand, which was cold as ice: the marble lips of Thaddeuscould not move. 

"My son, " said the veteran, in a low voice, "Heaven hath led youhither to receive the last sigh of your grandfather. " Thaddeustrembled. The palatine continued; "Carry my blessing to your mother, and bid her seek comfort in the consolations of her God. May that Godpreserve you! Ever remember that you are his servant; be obedient tohim; and as I have been, be faithful to your country. "

"May God so bless me!" cried Thaddeus, looking up to heaven. 

"And ever remember, " said the palatine, raising his head, which haddropped on the bosom of his grandson, "that you are a Sobieski! it ismy dying command that you never take any other name. "

"I promise. "

Thaddeus could say no more, for the countenance of his grandfatherbecame altered; his eyes closed. Thaddeus caught him to his breast. No heart beat against his; all was still and cold. The body droppedfrom his arms, and he sunk senseless by its side. 

When consciousness returned to him, he looked up. The sky wasshrouded in clouds, which a driving wind was blowing from the orb ofthe moon, while a few of her white rays gleamed sepulchrally on theweapons of the slaughtered soldiers. 

The scattered senses of Thaddeus gradually returned to him. He wasnow lying, the only living creature amidst thousands of the dead who, the preceding night, had been, like himself, alive to all theconsciousness of existence! His right hand rested on the pale face ofhis grandfather. It was wet with dew. He shuddered. Taking his owncloak from his shoulders, he laid it over the body. He would havesaid, as he did it, "So, my father, I would have sheltered thy lifewith my own!" but the words choked in his throat, and he sat watchingby the corpse until the day dawned, and the Poles returned to burytheir slain. 

The wretched Thaddeus was discovered by a party of his own hussarsseated on a little mound of earth, with the cold hand of Sobieskigrasped in his. At this sight the soldiers uttered a cry of dismayand sorrow. Thaddeus rose up. "My friends, " said he, "I thank Godthat you are come! Assist me to bear my dear grandfather to thecamp. "

Astonished at this composure, but distressed at the dreadful hue ofhis countenance, they obeyed him in mournful silence, and laid theremains of the palatine upon a bier, which they formed with theirsheathed sabres; then gently raising it, they retrod their steps tothe camp, leaving a detachment to accomplish the duty for which theyhad quitted it. Thaddeus, hardly able to support his weakened frame, mounted a horse and followed the melancholy procession. 

General Wawrzecki, on whom the command had devolved, seeing the partyreturning so soon, and in such an order, sent an aid-de-camp toinquire the reason. He came back with dejection in his face, andinformed his commander that the brave Palatine of Masovia, whom theysupposed had been taken prisoner with his grandson and Kosciusko, wasthe occasion of this sudden return; that he had been killed, and hisbody was now approaching the lines on the arms of the soldiers. Wawrzecki, though glad to hear that Thaddeus was alive and atliberty, turned to conceal his tears; then calling out a guard, hemarched at their head to meet the corpse of his illustrious friend. 

The bier was carried into the general's tent. An aid-de-camp and somegentlemen of the faculty were ordered to attend Thaddeus to hisquarters; but the young count, though scarcely able to stand, appeared to linger, and holding fast by the arm of an officer, helooked steadfastly on the body. Wawrzecki understood his hesitation. He pressed his hand. "Fear not, my dear sir, " said he; "every honorshall be paid to the remains of your noble grandfather. " Thaddeusbowed his head, and was supported out of the tent to his own. 

His wounds, of which he had received several, were not deep; andmight have been of little consequence, had not his thoughtscontinually hovered about his mother, and painted her affliction whenshe should be informed of the lamentable events of the last day'sbattle. These reflections, awake or in a slumber, (for he neverslept, ) possessed his mind, and, even whilst his wounds were healing, produced such an irritation in his blood as hourly threatened afever. 

Things were in this situation, when the surgeon put a letter from thecountess into his hand. He opened it, and read with breathlessanxiety these lines:

"TO THADDEUS, COUNT SOBIESKI. 

"Console yourself, my most precious son, console yourself for mysake. I have seen Colonel Lonza, and I have heard all the horrorswhich took place on the tenth of this month. I have heard them, and Iam yet alive. I am resigned. He tells me you are wounded. Oh! do notlet me be bereft of my son also! Remember that you were my dearsainted father's darling; remember that, as his representative, youare to be my consolation; in pity to me, if not to our sufferingcountry, preserve yourself to be at least the last comfort Heaven'smercy hath spared to me. I find that all is lost to Poland as well asto myself! that when my glorious father fell, and his friend withhim, even its name, as a country, became extinct. The allied invadersare in full march towards Masovia, and I am too weak to come to you. Let me see you soon, very soon, my beloved son. I beseech you to cometo me. You will find me feebler in body than in mind; for there is aholy Comforter that descends on the bruised heart, which none otherthan the unhappy have conceived or felt. Farewell, my dear, dearThaddeus! Let the memory that you have a mother check your too ardentcourage. God forever guard you! Live for your mother, who has nostronger words to express her affection for you than she is thymother--thy

"THERESE SOBIESKI. 

"VILLANOW, _October, _ 1794. "

This letter was indeed a balm to the soul of Thaddeus. That hismother had received intelligence of the cruel event with such "holyresignation" was the best medicine that could now be applied to hiswounds, both of mind and body; and when he was told that on thesucceeding morning the body of his grandfather would, be removed tothe convent near Biala, he declared his resolution to attend it tothe grave. 

In vain his surgeons and General Wawrzecki remonstrated against thedanger of this project; for once the gentle and yielding spirit ofThaddeus was inflexible. He had fixed his determination, and it wasnot to be shaken. 

Next day, being the seventh from that in which the fatal battle hadbeen decided, Thaddeus, at the first beat of the drum, rose from hispallet, and, almost unassisted, put on his clothes. His uniform beingblack, he needed no other index than his pale and mournfulcountenance to announce that he was chief mourner. 

The procession began to form, and he walked from his tent. It was afine morning. Thaddeus looked up, as if to upbraid the sun forshining so brightly. Lengthened and repeated rounds of cannon rolledalong the air. The solemn march of the dead was moaning from themuffled drum, interrupted at measured pauses by the shrill tremor ofthe fife. The troops, preceded by their general, moved forward with adecent and melancholy step. The Bishop of Warsaw followed, bearingthe sacred volume in his hands; and next, borne upon the crossedpikes of his soldiers, and supported by twelve of his veterancompanions, appeared the body of the brave Sobieski. A velvet pallcovered it, on which were laid those arms with which for fifty yearshe had asserted the loyal independence of his country. At this sightthe sobs of the men became audible. Thaddeus followed with a slow butfirm step, his eyes bent to the ground and his arms wrapped in hiscloak; it was the same which had shaded his beloved grandfather fromthe dews of that dreadful night. Another train of solemn musicsucceeded; and then the squadrons which the deceased had commandeddismounted, and, leading their horses, closed the procession. 

On the verge of the plain that borders Biala, and within a few pacesof the convent gate of St. Francis, the bier stopped. The monkssaluted its appearance with a requiem, which they continued to chanttill the coffin was lowered into the ground. The earth received itssacred deposit. The anthems ceased; the soldiers, kneeling down, discharged their muskets over it; then, with streaming cheeks, roseand gave place to others. Nine volleys were fired, and the ranks fellback. The bishop advanced to the head of the grave. All was hushed. He raised his eyes to heaven; then, after a pause, in which he seemedto be communing with the regions above him, he turned to the silentassembly, and, in a voice collected and impressive, addressed them ina short but affecting oration, in which he set forth the brightnessof Sobieski's life, his noble forgetfulness of self in the interestsof his country, and the dauntless bravery which laid him in the dust. A general discharge of cannon was the awful response to this appeal. Wawrzecki took the sabre of the palatine, and, breaking it, droppedit into the grave. The aids-de-camp of the deceased did the same withtheirs, showing that by so doing they resigned their offices; andthen, covering their faces with their handkerchiefs, they turned awaywith the soldiers, who filed off. Thaddeus sunk on his knees. Hishands were clasped, and his eyes for a few minutes fixed themselveson the coffin of his grandfather; then rising, he leaned on the armof Wawrzecki, and with a tottering step and pallid countenance, mounted his horse, which had been led to the spot, and returned withthe scattered procession to the camp. 

The cause for exertion being over, his spirits fell with the rapidityof a spring too highly wound up, which snaps and runs down toimmobility. He entered his tent and threw himself on the bed, fromwhich he did not raise for the five following days. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE LAST DAYS OF VILLANOW. 

At a time when the effects of these sufferings and fatigues hadbrought his bodily strength to its lowest ebb, the young CountSobieski was roused by information that the Russians had plantedthemselves before Praga, and were preparing to bombard the town. Theintelligence nerved his heart's sinews again, and rallied thespirits, also, of his depressed soldiers, who energetically obeyedtheir commander to put themselves in readiness to march at set ofsun. 

Thaddeus saw that the decisive hour was pending. And as the moonrose, though hardly able to sit his noble charger, he refused theindulgence of a litter, determining that no illness, while he had anypower to master its disabilities, should make him recede from hisduty. The image of his mother, too, so near the threatened spot, rushed on his soul. In quick march he led on his troops. Devastationmet them over the face of the country. Scared and houseless villagerswere flying in every direction; old men stood amongst the ashes oftheir homes, wailing to the pitying heavens, since man had none. Children and woman sat by the waysides, weeping over the lastsustenance the wretched infants drew from the breasts of theirperishing mothers. 

Thaddeus shut his eyes on the scene. 

"Oh, my country! my country!" exclaimed he; "what are my personalgriefs to thine? It is your afflictions that barb me to the heart!Look there, " cried he to the soldiers, pointing to the miserablespectacles before him; "look there, and carry vengeance into thebreasts of their destroyers. Let Praga be the last act of thistragedy. "

"Unhappy young man! unfortunate country! It was indeed the last act ofa tragedy to which all Europe were spectators--a tragedy which thenations witnessed without one attempt to stop or to delay itsdreadful catastrophe! Oh, how must virtue be lost when it is nolonger a matter of policy even to assume it. " [Footnote: To answerthis, we must remember that Europe was then no longer what she was acentury before. Almost all her nations had turned from the doctrinesof "sound things, " and more or less drank deeply of the cup ofinfidelity, drugged for them by the flattering sophistries ofVoltaire. The draught was inebriation, and the wild consequencesburst asunder the responsibilities of man to man. The selfishprinciple ruled, and balance of justice was then seen only aloft inthe heavens!]

After a long march through a dark and dismal night, the morning beganto break; and Thaddeus found himself on the southern side of thatlittle river which divides the territories of Sobieski from the woodsof Kobylka. Here, for the first time, he endured all the torturingvarieties of despair. 

The once fertile fields were burnt to stubble; the cottages were yetsmoking from the ravages of the fire; and in place of smiling eyesand thankful lips coming to meet him, he beheld the dead bodies ofhis peasants stretched on the high roads, mangled, bleeding, andstripped of that decent covering which humanity would not deny to thevilest criminal. 

Thaddeus could bear the sight no longer, but, setting spurs to hishorse, fled from the contemplation of scenes which harrowed up hissoul. 

At nightfall, the army halted under the walls of Villanow. The countlooked towards the windows of the palace, and by a light shiningthrough the half-drawn curtains, distinguished his mother's room. Hethen turned his eye on that sweep of building which contained thepalatine's apartments; but not one solitary lamp illumined its gloom:the moon alone glimmered on the battlements, silvering the paintedglass of the study window, where, with that beloved parent, he had solately gazed upon the stars, and anticipated with the most sanguinehopes the result of the campaign which had now terminated sodisastrously for his unhappy country. 

But these thoughts, with his grief and his forebodings, were buriedin the depths of his determined heart. Addressing General Wawrzecki, he bade him welcome to Villanow, requesting at the same time that hismen might be directed to rest till morning, and that he and theofficers would take their refreshment within the palace. 

As soon as Thaddeus had seen his guests seated at different tables inthe eating-hall, and had given orders for the soldiers to be servedfrom the buttery and cellars, he withdrew to seek the countess. Hefound her in her chamber, surrounded by the attendants who had justinformed her of his arrival. The moment he appeared at the room door, the women went out at an opposite passage, and Thaddeus, with abursting heart, threw himself on the bosom of his mother. They weresilent for some time. Poignant recollection stopped their utterance;but neither tears nor sighs filled its place, until the countess, onwhose soul the full tide of maternal affection pressed, and mingledwith her grief, raised her head from her son's neck, and said, whilstshe strained him in her arms, "Receive my thanks, O Father of mercy, for having spared to me this blessing!"

Thaddeus Sobieski (all that now remained of that beloved and honoredname!) with a sacred emotion breathed a response to the address ofhis mother, and drying her tears with his kisses, dwelt upon thenever-dying fame of his revered grandfather, upon his preferable lotto that of their brave friend Kosciusko, who was doomed not only tosurvive the liberty of his country, but to pass the residue of hislife within the dungeons of his enemies. He then tried to reanimateher spirits with hope. He spoke of the approaching battle, withoutany doubt of the valor and desperation of the Poles rendering itsuccessful. He talked of the resolution of their leader, GeneralWawrzecki, and of his own good faith in the justice of their cause. His discourse began in a wish to cheat her into tranquillity; but ashe advanced on the subject, his soul took fire at its own warmth, andhe half believed the probability of his anticipations. 

The countess looked on the honorable glow which crimsoned hisharassed features with a pang at her heart. 

"My heroic son!" cried she, "my darling Thaddeus! what a vast pricedo I pay for all this excellence! I could not love you were youotherwise than what you are; and being what you are, oh, how soon mayI lose you! Already has your noble grandfather paid the debt which heowed to his glory. He promised to fall with Poland; he has kept hisword; and now, all that I love on earth is concentrated in you. " Thecountess paused, and pressing his hand almost wildly on her heart, she continued in a hurried voice, "The same spirit is in your breast;the same principle binds you; and I may be at last left alone. Heavenhave pity on me!"

She cast her eyes upward as she ended. Thaddeus, sinking on his kneesby her side, implored her with all the earnestness of piety andconfidence to take comfort. The countess embraced him with a forcedsmile. "You must forgive me, Thaddeus; I have nothing of the soldierin my heart: it is all woman. But I will not detain you longer fromthe rest you require; go to your room, and try and recruit yourselffor the dangers to-morrow will bring forth. I shall employ the nightin prayers for your safety. "

Consoled to see any composure in his mother, he withdrew, and afterhaving heard that his numerous guests were properly lodged, went tohis own chamber. 

Next morning at sunrise the troops prepared to march. GeneralWawrzecki, with his officers, begged permission to pay their personalgratitude to the countess for the hospitality of her reception; butshe declined the honor, on the plea of indisposition. In the courseof an hour, her son appeared from her apartment and joined thegeneral. 

The soldiers filed off through the gates, crossed the bridge, andhalted under the walls of Praga. The lines of the camp were drawn andfortified before evening, at which time they found leisure to observethe enemy's strength. 

Russia seemed to have exhausted her wide regions to people the narrowshores of the Vistula; from east to west, as far as the eye couldreach, her arms were stretched to the horizon. Sobieski looked atthem, and then on the handful of intrepid hearts contained in thesmall circumference of the Polish camp. Sighing heavily, he retiredinto his tent; and vainly seeking repose, mixed his short andstartled slumbers with frequent prayers for the preservation of theselast victims to their country. 

The hours appeared to stand still. Several times he rose from his bedand went to the door, to see whether the clouds were tinged with anyappearance of dawn. All continued dark. He again returned to hismarquée, and standing by the lamp which was nearly exhausted, tookout his watch, and tried to distinguish the points; but finding thatthe light burned too feebly, he was pressing the repeating spring, which struck five, when the report of a single musket made him start. 

He flew to his tent door, and looking around, saw that all near hisquarter was at rest. Suspecting it to be a signal of the enemy, hehurried towards the intrenchments, but found the sentinels in perfectsecurity from any fears respecting the sound, as they supposed it tohave proceeded from the town. 

Sobieski paid little attention to their opinions, but ascending thenearest bastion to take a wider survey, in a few minutes hediscerned, though obscurely, through the gleams of morning, whatappeared to be the whole host of Russia advancing in profound silencetowards the Polish lines. The instant he made this discovery, he camedown, and lost no time in giving orders for the defence; then flyingto other parts of the camp, he awakened the commander-in-chief, encouraged the men, and saw that the whole encampment was not only inmotion, but prepared for the assault. 

In consequence of these prompt arrangements, the assailants werereceived with a cross-fire of the batteries, and case-shot andmusketry from several redoubts, which raked their flanks as theyadvanced. But in defiance of this shower of bullets, they pressed onwith an intrepidity worthy of a better cause, and overleaping theditch by squadrons, entered the camp. A passage once secured, theCossacks rushed in by thousands, and spreading themselves in front ofthe storming party, put every soul to the spear who opposed them. 

The Polish works being gained, the enemy turned the cannon on itsformer masters, and as they rallied to the defence of what remained, swept them down by whole regiments. The noise of artillery thunderedfrom all sides of the camp; the smoke was so great, that it washardly possible to distinguish friends from foes; nevertheless, thespirits of the Poles flagged not a moment; as fast as one rampart waswrested from them, they threw themselves within another, which was asspeedily taken by the help of hurdles, fascines, ladders, and acourage as resistless as it was ferocious, merciless, and sanguinary. Every spot of vantage position was at length lost; and yet the Polesfought like lions; quarter was neither offered to them nor required;they disputed every inch of ground, until they fell upon it in heaps, some lying before the parapets, others filling the ditches and therest covering the earth, for the enemy to tread on as they cut theirpassage to the heart of the camp. 

Sobieski, almost maddened by the scene, dripping with his own bloodand that of his brave friends, was seen in every part of the action;he was in the fosse, defending the trampled bodies of the dying; hewas on the dyke, animating the few who survived. Wawrzecki waswounded, and every hope hung upon Thaddeus. His presence and voiceinfused new energy into the arms of his fainting countrymen; theykept close to his side, until the victors, enraged at the dauntlessintrepidity of this young hero, uttered the most fearfulimprecations, and rushing on his little phalanx, attacked it withredoubled numbers and fury. 

Sobieski sustained the shock with firmness; but wherever he turnedhis eyes, they were blasted with some object which made them recoil;he beheld his companions and his soldiers strewing the earth, andtheir triumphant adversaries mounting their dying bodies, as theyhastened with loud huzzas to the destruction of Praga, whose gateswere now burst open. His eyes grew dim at the sight, and at the verymoment in which he tore them from spectacles so deadly to his heart, a Livonian officer struck him with a sabre, to all appearance deadupon the field. 

When he recovered from the blow, (which, having lit on the steel ofhis cap, had only stunned him, ) he looked around, and found that allnear him was quiet; but a far different scene presented itself fromthe town. The roar of cannon and the bursting of bombs thunderedthrough the air, which was rendered livid and tremendous by longspires of fire streaming from the burning houses, and mingling withthe volumes of smoke which rolled from the guns. The dreadful tocsin, and the hurrahs of the victors, pierced the soul of Thaddeus. Springing from the ground, he was preparing to rush towards thegates, when loud cries of distress issued from within. They wereburst open, and a moment after, the grand magazine blew up with ahorrible explosion. 

In an instant the field before Praga was filled with women andchildren, flying in all directions, and rending the sky with theirshrieks. "Father Almighty!" cried Thaddeus, wringing his hands, "canst thou suffer this?" Whilst he yet spake, some stragglingCossacks near the town, who were prowling about, glutted, but notsated with blood, seized the poor fugitives, and with a ferocity aswanton as unmanly, released them at once from life and misery. 

This hideous spectacle brought his mother's defenceless state beforethe eyes of Sobieski. Her palace was only four miles distant; andwhilst the barbarous avidity of the enemy was too busily engaged insacking the place to permit them to perceive a solitary individualhurrying away amidst heaps of dead bodies, he flew across thedesolated meadows which intervened between Praga and Villanow. 

Thaddeus was met at the gate of his palace by General Butzou, who, having learned the fate of Praga from the noise and flames in thatquarter, anticipated the arrival of some part of the victorious armybefore the walls of Villanow. When its young count, with a breakingheart, crossed the drawbridge, he saw that the worthy veteran hadprepared everything for a stout resistance; the ramparts were linedwith soldiers, and well mounted with artillery. 

"Here, thou still honored Sobieski, " cried he, as he conductedThaddeus to the keep; "let the worst happen, here I am resolved todispute the possession of your grandfather's palace until I have nota man to stand by me!" [Footnote: It was little more than just acentury before this awful scene took place that the invincible JohnSobieski, King of Poland, acting upon the old mutually protectingprinciples of Christendom, saved the freedom and the faith ofChristian Europe from the Turkish yoke. And in this very mansion hepassed his latter years in honored peace. He died in 1694--aremarkable coincidence, the division of Poland occurring in 1794. ]

Thaddeus strained him in silence to his breast; and after examiningthe force and dispositions, he approved all with a cold despair oftheir being of any effectual use, and went to the apartments of hismother. 

The countess's women, who met him in the vestibule, begged him to becareful how he entered her excellency's room, for she had only justrecovered from a swoon, occasioned by alarm at hearing the cannonadeagainst the Polish camp. Her son waited for no more, but not hearingtheir caution, threw open the door of the chamber, and hastening tohis mother's couch, cast himself into her arms. She clung round hisneck, and for a while joy stopped her respiration. Bursting intotears, she wept over him, incapable of expressing by words hertumultuous gratitude at again beholding him alive. He looked on heraltered and pallid features. 

"O! my mother, " cried he clasping her to his breast; "you are ill;and what will become of you?"

"My beloved son!" replied she kissing his forehead through theclotted blood that oozed from a cut on his temple; "my beloved son, before our cruel murderers can arrive, I shall have found a refuge inthe bosom of my God. "

Thaddeus could only answer with a groan. She resumed. "Give me yourhand. I must not witness the grandson of Sobieski given up todespair; let your mother incite you to resignation. You see I havenot breathed a complaining word, although I behold you covered withwounds. " As she spoke, her eye pointed to the sash and handkerchiefwhich were bound round his thigh and arm. "Our separation will not belong; a few short years, perhaps hours, may unite us forever in abetter world. "

The count was still speechless; he could only press her hand to hislips. After a pause, she proceeded--

"Look up, my dear boy! and attend to me. Should Poland become theproperty of other nations, I conjure you, if you survive its fall, toleave it. When reduced to captivity, it will no longer be an asylumfor a man of honor. I beseech you, should this happen, go that veryhour to England: that is a free country; and I have been told thatthe people are kind to the unfortunate. Perhaps you will find thatPembroke Somerset hath not quite forgotten Poland. Thaddeus! Why doyou delay to answer me? Remember, these are your mother's dyingwords!"

"I will obey them, my mother!"

"Then, " continued she, taking from her bosom a small miniature, "letme tie this round your neck. It is the portrait of your father. "Thaddeus bent his head, and the countess fastened it under his neck-cloth. "Prize this gift, my child; it is likely to be all that youwill now inherit either from me or that father. Try to forget hisinjustice, my dear son; and in memory of me, never part with thatpicture. O, Thaddeus! From the moment in which I first received ituntil this instant, it has never been from my heart!"

"And it shall never leave mine, " answered he, in a stifled voice, "whilst I have being. "

The countess was preparing to reply, when a sudden volley of firearmsmade Thaddeus spring upon his feet. Loud cries succeeded. Womenrushed into the apartment, screaming, "The ramparts are stormed!" andthe next moment that quarter of the building rocked to itsfoundation. The countess clung to the bosom of her son. Thaddeusclasped her close to his breast, and casting up his petitioning eyesto heaven, cried, "Shield of the desolate! grant me a shelter for mymother!"

Another burst of cannon was followed by a heavy crash, and the mostpiercing shrieks echoed through the palace. "All is lost!" cried asoldier, who appeared for an instant at the room door, and thenvanished. 

Thaddeus, overwhelmed with despair, grasped his sword, which hadfallen to the ground, and crying, "My mother, we will die together!"would have given her one last and assuring embrace, when his eyes metthe sight of her before-agitated features tranquillized in death. Shefell from his palsied arms back on the couch, and he stood gazing onher as if struck by a power which had benumbed all his faculties. 

The tumult in the palace increased every moment; but he heard it not, until Butzou, followed by two or three of his soldiers, ran into theapartment, calling out "Count, save yourself!"

Sobieski still remained motionless. The general caught him by thearm, and instantly covering the body of the deceased countess withthe mantle of her son, hurried his unconscious steps, by an oppositedoor, through the state chambers into the gardens. 

Thaddeus did not recover his recollection until he reached theoutward gate; then, breaking from the hold of his friend, wasreturning to the sorrowful scene he had left, when Butzou, aware ofhis intentions, just stopped him in time to prevent his rushing onthe bayonets of a party of the enemy's infantry, who were pursuingthem at full speed. 

The count now rallied his distracted faculties, and making a stand, with the general and his three Poles, they compelled this mercilessdetachment to seek refuge among the arcades of the building. 

Butzou would not allow his young lord to follow in that direction, but hurried him across the park. He looked back, however; a column offire issued from the south towers. Thaddeus sighed, as if his lifewere in that sigh, "All is indeed over;" and pressing his hand to hisforehead, in that attitude followed the steps of the general towardsthe Vistula. 

The wind being very high, the flame soon spread itself over the roofof the palace, and catching at every combustible in its way, theinvaders became so terrified at the quick progress of fire whichthreatened to consume themselves as well as their plunder, that theyquitted the spot with precipitation. Decrying the count and hissoldiers at a short distance, they directed their motions to thatpoint. Speedily confronting the brave fugitives, they blocked up abridge by a file of men with fixed pikes, and not only menaced thePolanders as they advanced, but derided their means of resistance. 

Sobieski, indifferent alike to danger and to insults, stopped shortto the left, and followed by his friends, plunged into the stream, amidst a shower of musket-balls from the enemy. After hard buffetingwith the torrent, he at last reached the opposite bank, and wasassisted from the river by some of the weeping inhabitants of Warsaw, who had been watching the expiring ashes of Praga, and the flamesthen devouring the boasted towers of Villanow. 

Emerged from the water, Thaddeus stood to regain his breath; andleaning on the shoulder of Butzou, he pointed to his burning palacewith a smile of agony. "See, " said he, "what a funeral pile Heavenhas given to the manes of my unburied mother!"

The general did not speak, for grief stopped his utterance; butmotioning the two soldiers to proceed, he supported the count intothe citadel. 

CHAPTER X. 

SOBIESKI'S DEPARTURE FROM WARSAW. 

From the termination of this awful day, in which a brave and hithertopowerful people were consigned to an abject dependence, Thaddeus wasconfined to his apartment in the garrison. 

It was now the latter end of November. General Butzou, supposing thatthe illness of his young lord might continue some weeks, and awarethat no time ought to be lost in maintaining all that was yet left ofthe kingdom of Poland, obtained his permission to seek its onlyremaining quarter. Quitting Warsaw, he joined Prince Poniatowski, whowas yet at the head of a few troops near Sachoryn, supported by theundaunted Niemcivitz, the bard and the hero, who had fought by theside heart, would have thrown himself on his knee, but the kingpresented him, and pressed him with emotion in his arms. 

"Brave young man!" cried he, "I embrace in you the last of thosePolish youth who were so lately the brightest jewels in my crown. "

Tears stood in the monarch's eyes while he spoke. Sobieski, withhardly a steadier utterance, answered, "I come to receive yourmajesty's commands. I will obey them in all things but insurrendering this sword (which was my grandfather's) into the handsof your enemies. "

"I will not desire it, " replied Stanislaus. "By my acquiescence withthe terms of Russia, I only comply with the earnest petitions of mypeople. I shall not require of you to compromise your country; butalas! you must not throw away your life in a now hopeless cause. Fatehas consigned Poland to subjection; and when Heaven, in itsmysterious decrees, confirms the chastisement of nations, it is man'sduty to submit. For myself, I am to bury my griefs and indignities inthe castle of Grodno. "

The blood rushed over the cheek of Thaddeus at this declaration, towhich the proud indignation of his soul could in no way subscribe, and with an agitated voice he exclaimed, "If my sovereign be alreadyat the command of our oppressors, then indeed is Poland no more! andI have nothing to do but to perform the dying will of my mother. Willyour majesty grant me permission to set off for England, before I maybe obliged to witness the last calamity of my wretched country?"

"I would to Heaven, " replied the king, "that I, too, might repose myage and sorrows in that happy kingdom! Go, Sobieski; your name isworthy of such an asylum; my prayers and blessings shall follow you. "

Thaddeus pressed his hand in silence to his lips. 

"Believe me, my dear count, " continued Stanislaus, "my soul bleeds atthis parting. I know the treasure which your family has always beento this nation; I know your own individual merit. I know the wealthwhich you have sacrificed for me and my subjects, and I am powerlessto express my gratitude. "

"Had I done more than my duty in that, " replied Thaddeus, "such wordsfrom your majesty would have been a reward adequate to any privation;but, alas! no. I have perhaps performed less than my duty; the bloodof Sobieski ought not to have been spared one drop when the libertiesof his country perished!" Thaddeus blushed while he spoke, and almostrepented the too ready zeal of his friends in having saved him fromthe general destruction at Villanow. 

The voice of the venerable Stanislaus became fainter as he resumed--

"Perhaps had a Sobieski reigned at this time, these horrors might nothave been accomplished. That resistless power which has overwhelmedmy people, I cannot forget is the same that put the sceptre into myhand. But Catherine misunderstood my principles, when assisting in myelection to the throne; she thought she was planting merely her ownviceroy there. But I could not obliterate from my heart that myancestors, like your own, were hereditary sovereigns of Poland, norcease to feel the stamp the King of kings had graven upon that heart--to uphold the just laws of my fathers! and, to the utmost, I havestruggled to fulfil my trust. "

"Yes, my sovereign, " replied Thaddeus; "and whilst there remains oneman on earth who has drawn his first breath in Poland, he will bearwitness in all the lands through which he may be doomed to wanderthat he has received from you the care and affection of a father. O!sire, how will future ages believe that, in the midst of civilizedEurope, a brave people and a virtuous monarch were suffered, unaided, and even without remonstrance, to fall into the grasp of usurpation!--nay, of annihilation of their name!"

Stanislaus laid his hand on the arm of the count. 

"Man's ambition and baseness, " said the king, "are monstrous to thecontemplation of youth only. You are learning your lesson early; Ihave studied mine for many years, and with a bitterness of soul whichin some measure prepared me for the completion. My kingdom has passedfrom me at the moment you have lost your country. Before we partforever, my dear Sobieski, take with you this assurance--you haveserved the unfortunate Stanislaus to the latest hour in which youbeheld him. That which you have just said, expressive of thesentiments of those who were my subjects, is indeed a balm to myheart, and I will earn its consolations to my prison. "

The king paused. Sobieski, agitated, and incapable of speaking, threwhimself at his majesty's feet, and pressed his hand with fervency andanguish to his lips. The king looked down on his graceful figure, andpierced to the soul by the more graceful feelings which dictated theaction, the tear which stood in his eye, rolled over his cheek, andwas followed by another before he could add--pented the too readyzeal of his friends in having saved him from the general destructionat Villanow. 

The voice of the venerable Stanislaus became fainter as he resumed--

"Perhaps had a Sobieski reigned at this time, these horrors might nothave been accomplished. That resistless power which has overwhelmedmy people, I cannot forget is the same that put the sceptre into myhand. But Catherine misunderstood my principles, when assisting in myelection to the throne; she thought she was planting merely her ownviceroy there. But I could not obliterate from my heart that myancestors, like your own, were hereditary sovereigns of Poland, norcease to feel the stamp the King of kings had graven upon that heart--to uphold the just laws of my fathers! and, to the utmost, I havestruggled to fulfil my trust. "

"Yes, my sovereign, " replied Thaddeus; "and whilst there remains oneman on earth who has drawn his first breath in Poland, he will bearwitness in all the lands through which he may be doomed to wanderthat he has received from you the care and affection of a father. O!sire, how will future ages believe that, in the midst of civilizedEurope, a brave people and a virtuous monarch were suffered, unaided, and even without remonstrance, to fall into the grasp of usurpation!--nay, of annihilation of their name!"

Stanislaus laid his hand on the arm of the count. 

"Man's ambition and baseness, " said the king, "are monstrous to thecontemplation of youth only. You are learning your lesson early; Ihave studied mine for many years, and with a bitterness of soul whichin some measure prepared me for the completion. My kingdom has passedfrom me at the moment you have lost your country. Before we partforever, my dear Sobieski, take with you this assurance--you haveserved the unfortunate Stanislaus to the latest hour in which youbeheld him. That which you have just said, expressive of thesentiments of those who were my subjects, is indeed a balm to myheart, and I will carry its consolations to my prison. "

The king paused. Sobieski, agitated, and incapable of speaking, threwhimself at his majesty's feet, and pressed his hand with fervency andanguish to his lips. The king looked down on his graceful figure, andpierced to the soul by the more graceful feelings which dictated theaction, the tear which stood in his eye, rolled over his cheek, andwas followed by another before he could add--

"Rise, my young friend. Take from me this ring. It contains mypicture. Wear it in remembrance of a man who loves you, and who cannever forget your worth or the loyalty and patriotism of your house. "

The Chancellor Zamoyisko at that moment being announced, Thaddeusrose from his knee, and was preparing to leave the room, when hismajesty, perceiving his intention, desired him to stop. 

"Stay, count!" cried he, "I will burden you with one request. I amnow a king without a crown, without subjects, without a foot of landin which to bury me when I die. I cannot reward the fidelity of anyone of the few friends of whom my enemies have not deprived me; butyou are young, and Heaven may yet smile upon you in some distantnation. Will you pay a debt of gratitude for your poor sovereign?Should you ever again meet with the good old Butzou, who rescued mewhen my preservation lay on the fortune of a moment, remember that Iregard him as once the saviour of my life! I was told to-day that onthe destruction of Praga this brave man joined the army of mybrother. It is now disbanded, and he, with the rest of my faithfulsoldiers, is cast forth in his old age, a wanderer in a pitilessworld. Should you ever meet him, Sobieski, succor him for my sake. "

"As Heaven may succor me!" cried Thaddeus; and putting his majesty'shand a second time to his lips, he bowed to the chancellor and passedinto the street. 

When the count returned to the citadel, he found that all was as theking had represented. The soldiers in the garrison were reluctantlypreparing to give up their arms; and the nobles, in compassion to thecries of the people, were trying to humble their necks to the yoke ofthe dictator. The magistrates lingered as they went to take the citykeys from the hands of their good king, and with sad whispersanticipated the moment in which they must surrender them, and theirlaws and national existence, to the jealous dominion of threedespotic foreign powers. 

Poland was now no place for Sobieski. He had survived all hiskindred. He had survived the liberties of his country. He had seenthe king a prisoner, and his countrymen trampled on by deceit andusurpation. As he walked on, musing over these circumstances, he metwith little interruption, for the streets were deserted. Here andthere a poor miserable wretch passed him, who seemed, by his wancheeks and haggard eyes, already to repent the too successful prayersof the deputation, The shops were shut. Thaddeus stopped a fewminutes in the great square, which used to be crowded with happycitizens, but now, not one man was to be seen. An awful and painfulsilence reigned over all. His soul felt too truly the dreadconsciousness of this utter annihilation of his country, for him tothrow off the heavy load from his oppressed heart, in this his lastwalk down the east street towards the ramparts which covered theVistula. 

He turned his eyes to the spot where once stood the magnificenttowers of his paternal palace. 

"Yes, " cried he, "it is now time for me to obey the last command ofmy mother! Nothing remains of Poland but its soil--nothing of my homebut its ashes!"

The victors had pitched a detachment of tents amidst the ruins ofVillanow, and were at this moment busying themselves in searchingamongst the stupendous fragments for what plunder the fire might havespared. 

"Insatiate robbers!" exclaimed Thaddeus; "Heaven will requite thissacrilege. " He thought on his mother, who lay beneath the ruins, andtore himself from the sight, whilst he added, "Farewell! foreverfarewell! thou beloved, revered Villanow, where I was reared in blissand tenderness! I quit thee and my country forever!" As he spoke, heraised his hands and eyes to heaven, and pressing the picture hismother had given him to his lips and bosom, turned from the parapet, determining to prepare that night for his departure the next morning. 

He arose by daybreak, and having gathered together all his littlewealth, the whole of which was compressed within the portmanteau thatwas buckled on his gallant horse, precisely two hours before thetriumphal car of General Suwarrow entered Warsaw, Sobieski left it. As he rode along the streets, he bedewed its stones with his tears. They were the first that he had shed during the long series of hismisfortunes, and they now flowed so fast, that he could hardlydiscern his way out of the city. 

At the great gate his horse stopped, and neighed with a strangesound. 

"Poor Saladin!" cried Thaddeus, stroking his neck; "are you so sorryat leaving Warsaw that, like your unhappy master, you linger to takea last lamenting look!"

His tears redoubled; and the warder, as he closed the gate after him, implored permission to kiss the hand of the noble Count Sobieski, erehe should turn his back on Poland, never to return. Thaddeus lookedkindly round, and shaking hands with the honest man, after saying afew friendly words to him, rode on with a loitering pace, until hereached that part of the river which divides Masovia from thePrussian dominions. 

Here he flung himself off his horse, and standing for a moment on thehill that rises near the bridge, retraced, with his almost blindedsight, the long and desolated lands through which he had passed; theninvoluntarily dropping on his knee, he plucked a tuft of grass, andpressing it to his lips, exclaimed, "Farewell, Poland! Farewell allmy earthly happiness!"

Almost stifled by emotion, he put this poor relic of his country intohis bosom, and remounting his noble animal, crossed the bridge. 

As one who, flying from any particular object, thinks to lose himselfand his sorrows when it lessens to his view, Sobieski pursued theremainder of his journey with a speed which soon brought him toDantzic. 

Here he remained a few days, and during that interval the firmness ofhis mind was restored. He felt a calm arising from the convictionthat his afflictions had gained their summit, and that, however heavythey were, Heaven had laid them on him for a trial of his faith andvirtue. Under this belief, he ceased to weep; but he never was seento smile. 

Having entered into an agreement with the master of a vessel to carryhim across the sea, he found the strength of his finances wouldbarely defray the charges of the voyage. Considering thiscircumstance, he saw the impossibility of taking his horse toEngland. 

The first time this idea presented itself, it almost overset hisdetermined resignation. Tears would again have started into his eyes, had he not by force repelled them. 

"To part from my faithful Saladin, " said he to himself, "that hasborne me since I first could use a sword; that has carried me throughso many dangers, and has come with me even into exile--it is painful, it is ungrateful!" He was in the stable when this thought assailedhim; and as the reflections followed each other, he again turned tothe stall. "But, my poor fellow, I will not barter your services forgold. I will seek for some master who may be kind to you, in pity tomy misfortunes. "

He re-entered the hotel where he lodged, and calling a waiter, inquired who occupied the fine mansion and park on the east of thetown. The man replied, "Mr. Hopetown, an eminent British merchant, who has been settled at Dantzic above forty years. "

"I am glad he is a Briton!" was the sentiment which succeeded thisinformation in the count's mind. He immediately took his resolution, but hardly had prepared to put it into execution, when he received asummons from the vessel to be on board in half an hour, the windhaving set fair. 

Thaddeus, somewhat disconcerted by this hasty call, with an agitatedhand wrote the following letter:--

"TO JOHN HOPETOWN, ESQ. 

"Sir, "A Polish officer, who has sacrificed everything but his honor to thelast interests of his country, now addresses you. 

"You are a Briton; and of whom can an unhappy victim to the cause ofloyalty and freedom with less debasement solicit an obligation?

"I cannot afford support to the fine animal which has carried methrough the battles of this fatal war; I disdain to sell him, andtherefore I implore you, by the respect that you pay to the memory ofyour ancestors, who struggled for and retained that liberty indefence of which we are thus reduced--I implore you to give him anasylum in your park, and to protect him from injurious usage. 

"Perform this benevolent action, sir, and you shall ever beremembered with gratitude by an unfortunate

"POLANDER. 

"DANTZIC, _November_, 1794. "

The count, having sealed and directed this letter, went to the hotelyard, and ordered that his horse might be brought out. A few days ofrest had restored him to his former mettle, and he appeared from thestable prancing and pawing the earth, as he used to do when Thaddeuswas about to mount him for the field. 

The groom was striving in vain to restrain the spirit of the animal, when the count took hold of the bridle. The noble creature knew hismaster, and became gentle as a lamb. After stroking him two or threetimes, with a bursting heart Thaddeus returned the reins to the man'shand, and at the same time gave him a letter. 

"There, " said he; "take that note and the horse directly to the houseof Mr. Hopetown. Leave them, for the letter requires no answer. "

This last pang mastered, he walked out of the yard towards the quay. The wind continuing fair, he entered the ship, and within an hour setsail for England. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE BALTIC. 

Sobieski passed the greater part of each day and the whole of everynight on the deck of the vessel. He was too much absorbed in himselfto receive any amusement from the passengers, who, observing hismelancholy, thought to dispel it by their company and conversation. 

When any of these people came upon deck, he walked to the head of theship, took his seat upon the cable which bound the anchor to theforecastle, and while their fears rendered him safe from their well-meant persecution, he gained some respite from vexation, though nonefrom misery. 

The ship having passed through the Baltic, and entered on the Britishsea, the passengers, running from side to side of the vessels, pointed out to Thaddeus the distant shore of England, lying like ahazy ridge along the horizon. The happy people, whilst they strainedtheir eyes through glasses, desired him to observe different spots onthe hardly-perceptible line which they called Flamborough Head andthe hills of Yorkshire. His heart turned sick at these objects oftheir delight, for not one of them raised an answering feeling in hisbreast. England could be nothing to him; if anything, it would provea desert, which contained no one object for his regrets or wishes. 

The image of Pembroke Somerset, indeed, rose in his mind, like thedim recollection of one who has been a long time dead. Whilst theywere together at Villanow, they regarded each other warmly, and whenthey parted they promised to correspond. One day, in pursuit of theenemy, Thaddeus was so unlucky as to lose the pocket-book whichcontained his friend's address; but yet, uneasy at his silence, heventured two letters to him, directed merely at Sir RobertSomerset's, England. To these he received no answer; and the palatineevinced so just a displeasure at such marked neglect and ingratitude, that he would not suffer him to be mentioned in his presence, andindeed Thaddeus, from disappointment and regret, felt no inclinationto transgress the command. 

When the young count, during the prominent interests of the latedisastrous campaign, remembered these things, he found little comfortin recollecting the name of his young English guest; and now that hewas visiting England as a poor exile, with indignation and grief hegave up the wish with the hope of meeting Mr. Somerset. Sensible thatSomerset had not acted as became the man to whom he could apply inhis distress, he resolved, unfriended as he was, to wipe him at oncefrom his memory. With a bitter sigh he turned his back on the land towhich he was going, and fixed his eyes on the tract of sea which thendivided him from all that he had ever loved, or had given him truehappiness. 

"Father of mercy!" murmured he, in a suppressed voice, "what have Idone to deserve this misery? Why have I been at one stroke deprivedof all that rendered existence estimable? Two months ago, I had amother, a more than father, to love and cherish me; I had a country, that looked up to them and to me with veneration and confidence. Now, I am bereft of all. I have neither father, mother, nor country, but Iam going to a land of utter strangers. "

Such impatient adjurations were never wrung from Sobieski by theanguish of sudden torture without his ingenuous and pious mindreproaching itself for such faithless repining. His soul was soft asa woman's; but it knew neither effeminacy nor despair. Whilst hisheart bled, his countenance retained its serenity. Whilst afflictioncrushed him to the earth, and nature paid a few hard-wrung drops tohis repeated bereavements, he contemned his tears, and raised hisfixed and confiding eye to that Power which poured down its tempestson his head. Thaddeus felt as a man, but received consolation as aChristian. 

When his ship arrived at the mouth of the Thames, the eagerness ofthe passengers increased to such an excess that they would not standstill, nor be silent a moment; and when the vessel, under full sail, passed Sheerness, and the dome of St. Paul's appeared before them, their exclamations were loud and incessant. "My home! my parents! mywife! my friends!" were the burden of every tongue. 

Thaddeus found his calmed spirits again disturbed; and, rising fromhis seat, he retired unobserved by the people, who were too happy toattend to anything which did not agree with their own transports. Thecabin was as deserted as himself. Feeling that there is no solitudelike that of the heart, when it looks around and sees in the vastconcourse of human beings not one to whom it can pour forth itssorrows, or receive the answering sigh of sympathy, he threw himselfon one of the lockers, and with difficulty restrained the tears fromgushing from his eyes. He held his hand over them, while he contemnedhimself for a weakness so unbecoming his manhood. 

He despised himself: but let not others despise him. It is difficultfor those who lie morning and evening in the lap of domesticindulgence to conceive the misery of being thrown out into a bleakand merciless world; it is impossible for the happy man, surroundedby luxury and gay companions, to figure to himself the reflections ofa fellow-creature who, having been fostered in the bosom of affectionand elegance, is cast at once from all society, bereft of home, ofcomfort, of "every stay, save innocence and Heaven. " None but thewretched can imagine what the wretched endure from actual distress, from apprehended misfortune, from outraged feelings, and ten thousandnameless sensibilities to offence which only the unfortunate canconceive, dread and experience. But what is it to be not only withouta home, but without a country? Thaddeus unconsciously uttered a groanlike that of death. 

The noise redoubled above his head, and in a few minutes afterwardsone of the sailors came rumbling clown the stairs. 

"Will it please your honor, " said he, "to get up? That be my chest, and I want my clothes to clean myself before I go on shore. Mother Iknow be waiting me at Blackwall. "

Thaddeus rose, and with a withered heart again ascended to the deck. 

On coming up the hatchway, he saw that the ship was moored in themidst of a large city, and was surrounded by myriads of vessels fromevery quarter of the globe. He leaned over the railing, and insilence looked down on the other passengers, who where bearing off inboats, and shaking hands with the people who came to receive them. 

"It is near dark, sir, " said the captain; "mayhap you would wish togo on shore? There is a boat just come round, and the tide won'tserve much longer: and as your friends don't seem to be coming foryou, you are welcome to a place in it with me. "

The count thanked him; and after defraying the expenses of thevoyage, and giving money amongst the sailors, he desired that hisportmanteau might be put into the wherry. The honest fellows, ingratitude to the bounty of their passenger, struggled who should obeyhis commands, when the skipper, angry at being detained, snatchedaway the baggage, and flinging it into the boat, leaped in after it, and was followed by Thaddeus. 

The taciturnity of the seamen and the deep melancholy of his guestwere not broken until they reached the Tower stairs. 

"Go, Ben, fetch the gentleman a coach. "

The count bowed to the captain, who gave the order, and in a fewminutes the boy returned, saying there was one in waiting. He took upthe portmanteau, and Thaddeus, following him, ascended the Towerstairs, where the carriage stood. Ben threw in the baggage and thecount put his foot on the step. "Where must the man drive to?"

Thaddeus drew it back again. 

"Yes, sir, " continued the lad; "where be your honor's home?"

"In my grave, " was the response his aching heart made to thisquestion. He hesitated before he spoke. "An hotel, " said he, flinginghimself on the seat, and throwing a piece of silver into the lad'shat. 

"What hotel, sir?" asked the coachman. 

"Any. "

The man closed the door, mounted his box, and drove off. 

It was now near seven o'clock, on a dark December evening. The lampswere lighted; and it being Saturday-night, the streets were crowdedwith people. Thaddeus looked at them as he was driven along. "Happycreatures!" thought he; "you have each a home to go to; you have eachexpectant friends to welcome you; every one of you knows some in theworld who will smile when you enter; whilst I, wretched, wretchedSobieski where are now all thy highly-prized treasures, thy boastedglory, and those beloved ones who rendered that glory most preciousto thee? Alas! all are withdrawn; vanished like a scene ofenchantment, from which I have indeed awakened to a frightfulsolitude. "

His reflections were broken by the stopping of the carriage. The manopened the door. 

"Sir, I have brought you to the Hummums, Covent Garden; it has asgood accommodations as any in the town. My fare is five shillings. "

Thaddeus paid the amount, and followed him and his baggage into thecoffee-room. At the entrance of a man of his figure, several waiterspresented themselves, begging to know his commands. 

"I want a chamber. "

He was ushered into a very handsome dining-room, where one of themlaid down the portmanteau, and then bowing low, inquired whether hehad dined. 

The waiter having received his orders, (for the count saw that it wasnecessary to call for something, ) hastened into the kitchen tocommunicate them to the cook. 

"Upon my word, Betty, " cried he, "you must do your best to-night; forthe chicken is for the finest-looking fellow you ever set eyes on. ByJove, I believe him to be some Russian nobleman; perhaps the greatSuwarrow himself! and he speaks English as well as I do myself. "

"A prince, you mean, Jenkins!" said a pretty girl who entered at thatmoment. "Since I was borne I never see'd any English lord walk up anddown the room with such an air; he looks like a king. For my part, Ishould not wonder if he is one of them there emigrant kings, for theysay there is a power of them now wandering about the world. "

"You talk like a fool, Sally, " cried the sapient waiter. "Don't yousee that his dress is military? Look at his black cap, with its longbag and great feather, and the monstrous sword at his side; look atthem, and then if you can, say I am mistaken in deciding that he issome great Russian commander, --most likely come over as ambassador!"

"But he came in a hackney-coach, " cried a little dirty boy in thecorner. "As I was running up stairs with Colonel Leson's shoes, Isee'd the coachman bring in his portmanteau. " "Well, Jack-a-napes, what of that?" cried Jenkins; "is a nobleman always to carry hisequipage about him, like a snail with its shell on its back? To besure, this foreign lord, or prince, is only come to stay here tillhis own house is fit for him. I will be civil to him. "

"And so will I, Jenkins, " rejoined Sally, smiling; "for I never see'dsuch handsome blue eyes in my born days; and they turned so sweet onme, and he spoke so kindly when he bade me stir the fire; and when hesat down by it, and throwed off his great fur cloak, I see'd aglittering star on his breast, and a figure so noble, that indeed, cook, I do verily believe he is, as Jenkins says, an enthroned king!"

"You and Jenkins be a pair of fools, " cried the cook, who, withoutnoticing their description, had been sulkily basting the fowl. "Iwill be sworn he's just such another king as that palavering roguewas a French duke who got my master's watch and pawned it! As foryou, Sally, you had better beware of hunting after foreign men-folk:it's not seemly for a young woman, and you may chance to rue it. "

The moralizing cook had now brought the whole kitchen on hershoulders. The men abused her for a surly old maid, and the womentittered, whilst they seconded her censure by cutting sly jokes onthe blushing face of poor Sally, who stood almost crying by the sideof her champion, Jenkins. 

Whilst this hubbub was going forward below stairs, its unconscioussubject was, as Sally had described, sitting in a chair close to thefire, with his feet on the fender, his arms folded, and his eyes benton the flames. He mused; but his ideas followed each other in suchquick confused succession, it hardly could be said he thought ofanything. 

The entrance of dinner roused him from his reverie. It was carried inby at least half a dozen waiters. The count had been so accustomed toa numerous suite of attendants, he did not observe the parcelling outof his temperate meal: one bringing in the fowl, another the bread, his neighbor the solitary plate, and the rest in like order, sosolicitous were the male listeners in the kitchen to see thiswonderful Russian. 

Thaddeus partook but lightly of the refreshment. Being alreadyfatigued in body, and dizzy with the motion of the vessel, as soon asthe cloth was withdrawn, he ordered a night candle, and desired to beshown to his chamber. 

Jenkins, whom the sight of the embroidered star confirmed in hisdecision that the foreigner must be a person of consequence, withincreased agility whipped up the portmanteau and led the way to thesleeping-rooms. Here curiosity put on a new form; the women servants, determined to have their wishes gratified as well as the men, hadarranged themselves on each side of the passage through which thecount must pass. At so strange an appearance, Thaddeus drew back; butsupposing that it might be a custom of the country, he proceededthrough this fair bevy, and bowed as he walked along to the lowcurtesies which they continued to make, until he entered hisapartment and closed the door. 

The unhappy are ever restless; they hope in every change of situationto obtain some alteration in their feelings. Thaddeus was toomiserable awake not to view with eagerness the bed on which hetrusted that, for a few hours at least, he might lose theconsciousness of his desolation, with its immediate suffering. 

CHAPTER XII. 

THADDEUS'S FIRST DAY IN ENGLAND. 

When he awoke in the morning, his head ached, and he felt asunrefreshed as when he had lain down; he undrew the curtain, and saw, from the strength of the light, it must be midday. He got up; andhaving dressed himself, descended to the sitting-room, where he founda good fire and the breakfast already placed. He rang the bell, andwalked to the window, to observe the appearance of the morning. Aheavy snow had fallen during the night; and the sun, ascended to itsmeridian, shone through the thick atmosphere like a ball of fire. Allseemed comfortless without; and turning back to the warm hearth, which was blazing at the other end of the room, he was reseatinghimself, when Jenkins brought in the tea-urn. 

"I hope, my lord, " said the waiter, "that your lordship slept welllast night?"

"Perfectly, I thank you, " replied the count, unmindful that the manhad addressed him according to his rank; "when you come to removethese things, bring me my bill. "

Jenkins bowed and withdrew, congratulating himself on his dexterityin having saluted the stranger with his title. 

During the absence of the waiter, Thaddeus thought it time to examinethe state of his purse. He well recollected how he had paid atDantzic; and from the style in which he was served here, he did notdoubt that to defray what he had already contracted would nearlyexhaust his all. He emptied the contents of his purse into his hands;a guinea and some silver was all that he possessed. A flush of terrorsuffused itself over his face; he had never known the want of moneybefore, and he trembled now lest the charge should exceed his meansof payment. 

Jenkins entered with the bill. On the count's examining it, he waspleased to find it amounted to no more than the only piece of goldhis purse contained. He laid it upon the tea-board, and putting half-a-crown into the hand of Jenkins, who appeared waiting for something, wrapped his cloak round him as he was walking out of the room. 

"I suppose, my lord, " cried Jenkins, pocketing the money with asmirk, and bowing with the things in his hands, "we are to have thehonor of seeing your lordship again, as you leave your portmanteaubehind you?"

Thaddeus hesitated a few seconds, then again moving towards the door, said, "I will send for it. "

"By what name, my lord?"

"The Count Sobieski. "

Jenkins immediately set down the tea-board, and hurrying afterThaddeus along the passage, and through the coffee-room, dartedbefore him, and opening the door into the lobby for him to go out, exclaimed, loud enough for everybody to hear, "Depend upon it, CountSobieski, I will take care of your lordship's baggage. "

Thaddeus, rather displeased at his noisy officiousness, only bent hishead, and proceeded into the street. 

The air was piercing cold; and on his looking around, he perceived bythe disposition of the square in which he was that it must be amarket-place. The booths and stands were covered with snow, whilstparts of the pavement were rendered nearly impassable by heaps ofblack ice, which the market people of the preceding day had shoveledup out of their way. He recollected it was now Sunday, andconsequently the improbability of finding any cheaper lodgings onthat day. [Footnote: Those who remember the terrible winter of 1794, will not call this description exaggerated. That memorable winter wasone of mourning to many in England. Some of her own brave sonsperished amidst the frozen dykes of Holland and the Netherlands, vainly opposing the march of the French anarchists. How strangeappeared then to him the doom of nations. ]

Thaddeus stood under the piazzas for two or three minutes, bewilderedon the plan he should adopt. To return to the hotel for any purposebut to sleep, in the present state of his finances, would beimpossible; he therefore determined, inclement as the season was, ifhe could not find a chapel, to walk the streets until night. He mightthen go back to the Hummums to his bed chamber; but he resolved toquit it in the morning, for a residence more suitable to his slendermeans. 

The wind blew keenly from the north-east, accompanied with a violentshower of sleet and rain; yet such was the abstraction of his mind, that he hardly observed its bitterness, but walked on, carelesswhither his feet led him, until he stopped opposite St. Martin'schurch. 

"God is my only friend! and in any house of His I shall surely findshelter!"

He turned up the steps, and was entering the porch, when he met thecongregation thronging out of it. 

"Is the service over?" he inquired of a decent old woman who waspassing him down the stairs. The woman started at this question, asked her in English by a person whose dress was so completelyforeign. He repeated it. Smiling and curtseying, she replied--

"Yes, sir; and I am sorry for it. Lord bless your handsome face, though you be a stranger gentleman, it does one's heart good to seeyou so devoutly given!"

Thaddeus blushed at this personal compliment, though it came from thelips of a wrinkled old woman; and begging permission to assist herdown the stairs, he asked when service would begin again. 

"At three o'clock, sir, and may Heaven bless the mother who bore sopious a son!"

While the poor woman spoke, she raised her eyes with a melancholyresignation. The count, touched with her words and manner, almostunconsciously to himself, continued by her side as she hobbled downthe street. 

His eyes were fixed on the ground, until somebody pressing againsthim, made him look round. He saw that his aged companion had justknocked at the door of a mean-looking house, and that she and himselfwere surrounded by nearly a dozen people, besides boys who throughcuriosity had followed them from the church porch. 

"Ah! sweet sir, " cried she, "these folks are staring at so fine agentleman taking notice of age and poverty. "

Thaddeus was uneasy at the inquisitive gaze of the bystanders; andhis companion observing the fluctuation of his countenance, added, asthe door was opened by a little girl, "Will your honor walk in out of the rain, and warm yourself by mypoor fire?"

He hesitated a moment; then, accepting her invitation, bent his headto get under the humble door-way, and following her through a neatly-sanded passage, entered a small but clean kitchen. A little boy, whowas sitting on a stool near the fire, uttered a scream at the sightof the stranger, and running up to his grandmother, rolled himself inher cloak, crying out, "Mammy, mammy, take away that black man!"

"Be quiet, William; it is a gentleman, and no black man. I am soashamed, sir; but he is only three years old. "

"I should apologize to you, " returned the count, smiling, "forintroducing a person so hideous as to frighten your family. "

By the time he finished speaking, the good dame had pacified theshrieking boy, who stood trembling, and looking askance at thetremendous black gentleman stroking the head of his pretty sister. 

"Come here, my dear!" said Thaddeus, seating himself by the fire, andstretching out his hand to the child. He instantly buried his head inhis grandmother's apron. 

"William! William!" cried his sister, pulling him by the arm, "thegentleman will not hurt you. "

The boy again lifted up his head. Thaddeus threw back his long sablecloak, and taking off his cap, whose hearse-like plumes he thoughtmight have terrified the child, he laid it on the ground, and againstretching forth his arms, called the boy to approach him. LittleWilliam now looked steadfastly in his face, and then on the cap, which he had laid beside him; whilst he grasped his grandmother'sapron with one hand, he held out the other, half assured, towards thecount. Thaddeus took it, and pressing it softly, pulled him gently tohim, and placed him on his knee. "My little fellow, " said he, kissinghim, "you are not frightened now?"

"No, " said the child; "I see you are not the ugly black man who takesaway naughty boys. The ugly black man has a black face, and snakes onhis head; but these are pretty curls!" added he, laughing, andputting his little fingers through the thick auburn hair which hungin neglected masses over the forehead of the count. 

"I am ashamed that your honor should sit in a kitchen, " said the oldlady; "but I have not a fire in any other room. "

"Yes, " said her granddaughter, who was about twelve years old;"grandmother has a nice first-floor up stairs, but because we have nolodgers, there be no fire there. "

"Be silent, Nanny Robson, " said the dame; "your pertness teases thegentleman. "

"O, not at all, " cried Thaddeus; "I ought to thank her, for sheinforms me you have lodgings to let; will you allow me to engagethem!"

"You, sir!" cried Mrs. Robson, thunderstruck; "for what purpose?Surely so noble a gentleman would not live in such a place as this?"

"I would, Mrs. Robson: I know not where I could live with morecomfort; and where comfort is, my good madam, what signifies thecostliness or plainness of the dwelling?"

"Well, sir, if you be indeed serious; but I cannot think you are; youare certainly making a joke of me for my boldness in asking you intomy poor house. "

"Upon my honor, I am not, Mrs. Robson. I will gladly be your lodgerif you will admit me; and to convince you that I am in earnest, myportmanteau shall this moment be brought here. "

"Well, sir, " resumed she, "I shall be honored in having you in myhouse; but I have no room for any one but yourself, not even for aservant. "

"I have no servant. "

"Then I will wait on him, grandmother, " cried the little Nanny; "dolet the gentleman have them; I am sure he looks honest. "

The woman colored at this last observation of the child, andproceeded:

"Then, sir, if you should not disdain the rooms when you see them, Ishall be too happy in having so good a gentleman under my roof. Pardon my boldness, sir; but may I ask? I think by your dress you area foreigner?"

"I am, " replied Thaddeus, the radiance which played over his featurescontracting into a glow; "if you have no objection to take a strangerwithin your doors, from this hour I shall consider your house myhome?"

"As your honor pleases, " said Mrs. Robson; "my terms are half-a-guinea a week; and I will tend on you as though you were my own son!for I cannot forget, excellent young gentleman, the way in which wefirst met. "

"Then I will leave you for the present;" returned he, rising, andputting down the little William, who had been amusing himself withexamining the silver points of the star of St. Stanislaus which thecount wore on his breast. "In the meanwhile, " said he, "my prettyfriend, " stooping to the child, "let this bit of silver, " was justmounting to his tongue, as he put his hand into his pocket to takeout half-a-crown; but he recollected that his necessities would nolonger admit of such gifts, and drawing his hand back with a deep andbitter sigh, he touched the boy's cheek with his lips, and added, "let this kiss remind you of your new friend. "

This was the first time the generous spirit of Sobieski had beenrestrained; and he suffered a pang, for the poignancy of which hecould not account. His had been a life accustomed to acts ofmunificence. His grandfather's palace was the asylum of the unhappy--his grandfather's purse a treasury for the unfortunate. The soul ofThaddeus did not degenerate from his noble relative: his generosity, begun in inclination, was nurtured by reflection, and strengthenedwith a daily exercise which had rendered it a habit of his nature. Want never appeared before him without exciting a sympathetic emotionin his heart, which never rested until he had administered everycomfort in the power of wealth to bestow. His compassion and hispurse were the substance and shadow of each other. The poor of hiscountry thronged from every part of the kingdom to receive pity andrelief at his hands. With those houseless wanderers he peopled thenew villages his grandfather had erected in the midst of lands whichin former times were the haunts of wild beasts. Thaddeus participatedin the happiness of his grateful tenants, and many were the old menwhose eyes he had closed in thankfulness and peace. These honestpeasants, even in their dying moments, wished to give up that life inhis arms which he had rescued from misery. He visited their cottage;he smoothed their pillow; he joined in their prayers; and when theirlast sigh came to his ear, he raised the weeping family from thedust, and cheered them with pious exhortations and his kindestassurances of protection. How often has the countess clasped herbeloved son to her breast, when, after a scene like this, he hasreturned home, the tears of the dying man and his children yet wetupon his hand! how often has she strained him to her heart, whilstfloods of rapture have poured from her own eyes! Heir to the firstfortune in Poland, he scarcely knew the means by which he bestowedall these benefits; and with a soul as bounteous to others as Heavenhad been munificent to him, wherever he moved he shed smiles andgifts around him. How frequently he had said to the palatine, whenhis carriage-wheels were chased by the thankful multitude, "O myfather! how can I ever be sufficiently grateful to God for thehappiness he hath allotted to me in making me the dispenser of somany blessings! The gratitude of these people overpowers and humblesme in my own eyes; what have I done to be so eminently favored ofHeaven? I tremble when I ask myself the question. " "You may tremble, my dear boy, " replied his grandfather, "for indeed the trial is asevere one. Prosperity, like adversity, is an ordeal of conduct. Tworoads are before the rich man--vanity or virtue; you have chosen thelatter, and the best; and may Heaven ever hold you in it! May Heavenever keep your heart generous and pure! Go on, my dear Thaddeus, asyou have commenced, and you will find that your Creator hath bestowedwealth upon you not for what you have done, but as the means ofevincing how well you would prove yourself his faithful steward. "

This _was_ the fortune of Thaddeus; and _now_, he who hadscattered thousands without counting them drew back his hand withsomething like horror at his own injustice, when he was going to giveaway one little piece of silver, which he might want in a day or two, to defray some indispensible debt. 

"Mrs. Robson, " said he, as he replaced his cap upon his head, "Ishall return before it is dark. "

"Very well, sir, " and opening the door, he went out into the lane. 

Ignorant of the town, and thanking Providence for having prepared himan asylum, he directed his course towards Charing Cross. He lookedabout him with deepened sadness; the wet and plashy state of thestreets gave to every object so comfortless an appearance, he couldscarcely believe himself to be in that London of which he had readwith so much delight. Where were the magnificent buildings heexpected to see in the emporium of the world? Where that cleanliness, and those tokens of greatness and splendor, which had been theadmiration and boast of travellers? He could nowhere discover them;all seemed parts of a dark, gloomy, common-looking city. 

Hardly heeding whither he went, he approached the Horse-Guards; aview of the Park, as it appears through the wide porch, promised himless unpleasantness than the dirty pavement, and he turned in, takinghis way along the Bird-Cage Walk. [Footnote: The young readers ofthese few preceding pages will not recognize this description of St. Martin's Lane, Charing Cross, and St. James's Park, in 1794, in whatthey now see there in 1844. St. Martin's noble church was then thecentre of the east side of a long, narrow, and somewhat dirty lane ofmean houses, particularly in the end below the church. Charing Cross, with its adjoining streets, showed nothing better than plaintradesmen's shops; and it was not till we saw the Admiralty, andentered the Horse-Guards, that anything presented itself worthy thegreat name of London. The Park is almost completely altered. Thelower part of the lane has totally disappeared; also its adjunct, theKing's Mews, where now stands the royal National Gallery, while thechurch of St. Martin's rears its majestic portico and spire, nolonger obscured by its former adjacent common buildings; and thegrand naval pillar lately erected to the memory of Britain's hero, Nelson, occupies the centre of the new quadrangle now calledTrafalgar Square. ]

The trees, stripped of their leaves, stood naked, and dripping withmelten snow. The season was in unison with the count's fate. He wastaking the bitter wind for his repast, and quenching his thirst withthe rain that fell on his pale and feverish lips. He felt the cuttingblast enter his soul, and shutting his eyelids to repel the tearswhich were rising from his heart, he walked faster; but in spite ofhimself, their drops mingled with the wet that trickled from his capupon his face. One melancholy thought introduced another, until hisbewildered mind lived over again, in memory, every calamity which hadreduced him from happiness to all this lonely misery. Two or threeheavy convulsive sighs followed these reflections; and quickening hispace, he walked several times quite round the Park. The rain ceased. But not marking time, and hardly observing the people who passed, hethrew himself down upon one of the benches, and sat in a musingposture, with his eyes fixed on the opposite tree. 

A sound of voices approaching roused him. Turning his eyes, he sawthe speakers were two young men, and by their dress he judged theymust belong to the regiment of a sentinel who was patrolling at theend of the Mall. 

"By heavens! Barrington, " cried one, "it is the best shaped boot Iever beheld! I have a good mind to ask him whether it be Englishmake. "

"And if it be, " replied the other, "you must ask him who shaped hislegs, that you may send yours to be mended. "

"Who the devil can see my legs through that boot?"

"Oh, if to veil them be your reason, pray ask him immediately. "

"And so I will, for I think the boot perfection. "

At these words, he was making towards Sobieski with two or three longstrides, when his companion pulled him back. 

"Surely, Harwold, you will not be so ridiculous? He appears to be aforeigner of rank, and may take offence, and give you the length ofhis foot!"

"Curse him and rank too; he is some paltry emigrant, I warrant! Icare nothing about his foot or his legs, but I should like to knowwho made his boots!"

While he spoke he would have dragged his companion along with him, but Barrington broke from his arm; and the fool, who now thoughthimself dared to it, strode up close to the chair, and bowed toThaddeus, who (hardly crediting that he could be the subject of thisdialogue) returned the salutation with a cold bend of his head. 

Harwold looked a little confounded at this haughty demeanor; and, once in his life, blushing at his own insolence, he roared out, as ifin defiance of shame. 

"Pray, sir, where did you get your boots?"

"Where I got my sword, sir, " replied Thaddeus, calmly; and risingfrom his seat, he darted his eyes disdainfully on the coxcomb, andwalked slowly down the Mall. Surprised and shocked at such behaviorin a British officer, while he moved away he distinctly heardBarrington laughing aloud, and ridiculing the astonished and set-downair of his impudent associate. 

This incident did not so much ruffle the temper of Thaddeus as itamazed and perplexed him. 

"Is this a specimen, " though he, "of a nation which on the Continentis venerated for courage, manliness, and generosity? Well, I find Ihave much to learn. I must go through the ills of life to estimatemyself thoroughly; and I must study mankind in themselves, and not inreports of them, to have a true knowledge of what they are. "

This strange rencontre was of service to him, by diverting his mindfrom the intense contemplation of his situation; and as the dusk drewon, he turned his steps towards the Hummums. 

On entering the coffee-room, he was met by the obsequious Jenkins, who, being told by Thaddeus that he wanted his baggage and a carnage, went for the things himself, and sent a boy for a coach. 

A man dressed in black was standing by the chimney, and seemed to beeyeing Thaddeus, as he walked up and down the room, with greatattention. Just as he had taken another turn, and so drew nearer thefireplace, this person accosted him rather abruptly--

"Pray, sir, is there any news stirring abroad? You seem, sir, to comefrom abroad. "

"None that I know of, sir. "

"Bless me, that's strange! I thought, sir, you came from abroad, sir;from the Continent, from Poland, sir? at least the waiter said so, sir. "

Thaddeus colored. "The waiter, sir?"

"I mean, sir, " continued the gentleman, visibly confused at thedilemma into which he had brought himself, "the waiter said that youwere a count, sir--a Polish count; indeed the Count Sobieski! Hence Iconcluded that you are from Poland. If I have offended, I beg pardon, sir; but in these times we are anxious for every intelligence. "

Thaddeus made no other reply than a slight inclination of his head, and walking forward to see whether the coach had arrived, he thought, whatever travellers had related of the English, they were the mostimpertinent people he had ever met with. 

The stranger would not be contented with what he had already said, but plucking up new courage, pursued the count to the glass doorthrough which he was looking, and resumed:

"I believe, sir, I am not wrong? You are the Count Sobieski; and Ihave the honor to be now speaking with the bravest champion of Polishliberty!"

Thaddeus again bowed. "I thank you, sir, for the compliment youintend me, but I cannot take it to myself; all the men of Poland, oldand young, nobles and peasants, were her champions, equally sincere, equally brave. "

Nothing could silence the inquisitive stranger. The coach drew up, but he went on:

"Then I hope that many of these patriots, besides your excellency, have taken care to bring away their wealth from a land which theymust now see is abandoned to destruction?"

For a moment Thaddeus forget himself, indignation for his country, and all her rights and all her sufferings rose in his countenance. 

"No, sir! not one of those men, and least of all would I have drawnone vital drop from her heart! I left in her murdered bosom all thatwas dear to me--all that I possessed; and not until I saw the chainsbrought before my eyes that were to lay her surviving sons in ironsdid I turn my back on calamities I could no longer avert oralleviate. "

The ardor of his manner and the elevation of his voice had drawn theattention of every person in the room upon him, when Jenkins enteredwith his baggage. The door being opened, Sobieski sprang into thecoach, and gladly shut himself there, from a conversation which hadawakened all his griefs. 

"Ah, poor enthusiast!" exclaimed his inquisitor, as the carriagedrove off. "It is a pity that so fine a young man should have made soill a use of his birth, and other natural advantages!"

"He appears to me, " observed an old clergyman who sat in an adjoiningbox, "to have made the best possible use of his natural advantages;and had I a son, I would rather hear him utter such a sentiment asthe one with which that young man quitted the room, than see himmaster of millions. "

"May be so, " cried the questioner, with a contemptuous glance;"'different minds incline to different objects!' His has decided for'the wonderful, the wild;' and a pretty finale he has made of hischoice!"

"Why, to be sure, " observed another spectator, "young people shouldbe brought up with reasonable ideas of right and wrong, and prudence;nevertheless, I should not like a son of mine to run harum-scarumthrough my property, and his own life; and yet one cannot help, whenone hears such a brave speech as that from yonder Frenchman just goneout, --I say one cannot help thinking it very fine. " "True, true, "cried the inquisitor; "you are right, sir; very fine indeed, but toofine to wear; it would soon leave us acreless, as it has done him;for it seems, by his own confession, he is penniless; and I know thata twelvemonth ago he was an heir to a fortune which, howeverincalculable, he has managed, with all his talents, to see the endof. "

"Then he is in distress!" exclaimed the clergyman, "and you know him. What is his name?"

The man colored at this unexpected inference; and glad the companyhad not attended to that part of the dialogue in which the name ofSobieski was mentioned, he stammered some indistinct words, took uphis hat, and looking at his watch, begged pardon, having anappointment, and hurried out of the room without speaking further;although the good clergyman, whose name was Blackmore, hastened afterhim, requesting to know where the young foreigner lived. 

"Who is that spectacled coxcomb?" cried the reverend doctor, as hereturned from his unavailing application. 

"I don't know, sir, " replied the waiter "I never saw him in thishouse before last night, when he came in late to sleep; and thismorning he was in the coffee-room at breakfast, just as that foreigngentleman walked through; and Jenkins bawling his name out very loud, as soon as he was gone, this here gentleman asked him who that countwas. I heard Jenkins say some Russian name, and tell him he came lastnight, and would likely come back again; and so that there gentlemanhas been loitering about all day till now, when the foreign gentlemancoming in, he spoke to him. "

"And don't you know anything further of this foreigner?"

"No, sir; I forget what he is called; but I see Jenkins going acrossthe street; shall I run after him and ask him?"

"You are very obliging, " returned the old clergyman; "but doesJenkins know where the stranger lives?"

"No, sir I am sure he don't. "

"I am sorry for it, " sighed the kind questioner; "then your inquirywould be of no use; his name will not do without his direction. Poorfellow! he has been unfortunate, and I might have befriended him. "

"Yes, to be sure, doctor, " cried the first speaker, who now rose toaccompany him out; "it is our duty to befriend the unfortunate; butcharity begins at home; and as all's for the best, perhaps it islucky we did not hear any more about this young fellow. We might haveinvolved ourselves in a vast deal of unnecessary trouble; and youknow people from outlandish parts have no claims upon us. "

"Certainly, " replied the doctor, "none in the world, excepting thosewhich no human creature can dispute, --the claims of nature. Allmankind are born heirs of suffering; and as joint inheritors, if wedo not wipe away each other's tears, it will prove but a comfortlessportion. "

"Ah! doctor, " cried his companion, as they separated at the end ofCharles-street, "you have always the best of an argument: you havelogic and Aristotle at your finger ends. "

"No, my friend; my arguments are purely Christian. Nature is mylogic, and the Bible my teacher. "

"Ah, there you have me again. You parsons are as bad as the lawyers;when once you get a poor sinner amongst you, he finds it as hard toget out of the church as out of chancery. However, have it your ownway; charity is your trade, and I won't be in a hurry to dispute themonopoly. Good-day! If I stay much longer, you will make me believethat black is white. "

Dr. Blackmore shook him by the hand, and wishing him good-evening, returned home, pitying the worldliness of his friend's mind, andmusing on the interesting stranger, whom he could not but admire, andcompassionate with a lively sorrow, for he believed him to be agentleman, unhappy and unfortunate. Had he known that the object ofhis solicitude was the illustrious subject of many a former eulogiumfrom himself, how increased would have been his regret--that he hadseen Count Thaddeus Sobieski, that he had seen him an exile, and thathe had suffered him to pass out of the reach of his services!

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE EXILE'S LODGINGS. 

Meanwhile the homeless Sobieski was cordially received by his humblelandlady. He certainly never stood in more need of kindness. A slowfever, which had been gradually creeping over him since he quittedPoland, soon settled on his nerves, and reduced him to such weakness, that he possessed neither strength nor spirits to stir abroad. 

Mrs. Robson was sincerely grieved at this illness of her guest. Herown son, the father of the orphans she protected, had died ofconsumption, and any appearance of that cruel disorder was a certaincall upon her compassion. 

Thaddeus gave himself up to her management. He had no money formedical assistance, and to please her he took what little medicinesshe prepared. According to her advice, he remained for several daysshut up in his chamber, with a large fire, and the shutters closed, to exclude the smallest portion of that air which the good womanthought had already stricken him with death. 

But all would not do; her patient became worse and worse. Frightenedat the symptoms, Mrs. Robson begged leave to send for the kindapothecary who had attended her deceased son. In this instance onlyshe found the count obstinate, no arguments, nor even tears, couldmove him to assent. When she stood weeping, and holding his burninghand, his answer was constantly the same. 

"My excellent Mrs. Robson, do not grieve on my account; I am not inthe danger you think; I shall do very well with your assistance. "

"No, no; I see death in your eyes. Can I feel this hand and see thathectic cheek without beholding your grave, as it were, opening beforeme?"

She was not much mistaken; for during the night after this debateThaddeus grew so delirious that, no longer able to subdue herterrors, she sent for the apothecary to come instantly to her house. 

"Oh, doctor!" cried she, while he ascended the stairs, "I have thebest young gentleman ever the sun shone on dying in that room! Hewould not let me send for you; and now he is raving like a madcreature. "

Mr. Vincent entered the count's humble apartment, and undrew thecurtains of the bed. Exhausted by delirium, Thaddeus had sunksenseless on his pillow. At this sight, supposing him dead, Mrs. Robson uttered a shriek, which was echoed by the cries of the littleWilliam, who stood near his grandmother. 

"Hush! my good woman, " said the doctor; "the gentleman is not dead. Leave the room till you have recovered yourself, and I will engagethat you shall see him alive when you return. "

Blessing these words she quitted the room with her grandson. 

On entering the chamber, Mr. Vincent had felt that its hot andstifling atmosphere must augment the fever of his patient; and beforehe attempted to disturb him from the temporary rest of insensibility, he opened the window-shutters and also the room-door wide enough toadmit the air from the adjoining apartment. Pulling the heavy clothesfrom the count's bosom he raised his head on his arm and poured somedrops into his mouth. Sobieski opened his eyes and uttered a fewincoherent words; but he did not rave, he only wandered, and appearedto know that he did so, for he several times stopped in the midst ofsome confused speech, and laying his hand on his forehead, strove torecollect himself. 

Mrs. Robson soon after re-entered the room, and wept out her thanksto the apothecary, whom she revered as almost a worker of miracles. 

"I must bleed him, Mrs. Robson, " continued he; "and for that purposeshall go home for my assistant and lancets; but in the meanwhile Icharge you to let every thing remain in the state I have left it. Theheat alone would have given a fever to a man in health. "

When the apothecary returned, he saw that his commands had beenstrictly obeyed; and finding that the change of atmosphere hadwrought the expected alteration in his patient, he took his armwithout difficulty and bled him. At the end of the operation Thaddeusagain fainted. 

"Poor gentleman!" cried Mr. Vincent, binding up the arm. "Look here, Tom, " (pointing to the scars, on the count's shoulder andbreast;) "see what terrible cuts have been here! This has not beenplaying at soldiers! Who is your lodger, Mrs. Robson?"

"His name is Constantine, Mr. Vincent; but for Heaven's sake recoverhim from that swoon. "

Mr. Vincent poured more drops into his mouth; and a minute afterwardshe opened his eyes, divested of their feverish glare, but still dulland heavy. He spoke to Mrs. Robson by her name, which gave her suchdelight, that she caught his hands to her lips and burst again intotears. The action was so abrupt and violent, that it made him feelthe stiffness of his arm. Casting his eyes towards the surgeon's, heconjectured what had been his state, and what the consequence. 

"Come, Mrs. Robson, " said the apothecary, "you must not disturb thegentleman. How do you find yourself, sir?"

As the deed could not be recalled, Thaddeus thanked the doctor forthe service he had received, and said a few kind and grateful wordsto his good hostess. 

Mr. Vincent was glad to see so promising an issue to his proceedings, and soon after retired with his assistant and Mrs. Robson, to givefurther directions. 

On entering the parlor, she threw herself into a chair and broke intoa paroxysm of lamentations. 

"My good woman, what is all this about?" inquired the doctor. "Is notmy patient better?"

"Yes, " cried she, drying her eyes; "but the whole scene puts me so inmind of the last moments of my poor misguided son, that the verysight of it goes through my heart like a knife. Oh! had my boy beenas good as that dear gentleman, had he been as well prepared to die, I think I would scarcely have grieved! Yet Heaven spare Mr. Constantine. Will he live?"

"I hope so, Mrs. Robson. His fever is high; but he is young, and withextreme care we may preserve him. "

"The Lord grant it!" cried she, "for he is the best gentleman I everbeheld. He has been above a week with me; and till this night, inwhich he lost his senses, though hardly able to breath or see, he hasread out of books which he brought with him; and good books too: forit was but yesterday morning that I saw the dear soul sitting by thefire with a book on the table, which he had been studying for anhour. As I was dusting about, I saw him lay his head down on it, andput his hand to his temples. 'Alas!, sir, ' said I, 'you tease yourbrains with these books of learning when you ought to be takingrest. ' No, Mrs. Robson, ' returned he, with a sweet smile, 'it is thisbook which brings me rest. I may amuse myself with others, but thisalone contains perfect beauty, perfect wisdom, and perfect peace. Itis the only infallible soother of human sorrows. ' He closed it, andput it on the chimney-piece; and when I looked at it afterwards, Ifound it was the Bible. Can you wonder that I should love soexcellent a gentleman?"

"You have given a strange account of him, " replied Vincent. "I hopehe is not a twaddler; [Footnote: A term of derision, forty years ago, amongst unthinking persons, when speaking of eminently religiouspeople. ] if so, I shall despair of his cure, and think his deliriumhad another cause besides fever. "

"I don't understand you, sir. He is a Christian, and as good areasonable, sweet-tempered gentleman as ever came into a house. Alas!I believe he is most likely a papist; though they say papists don'tread the Bible, but worship images. "

"Why, what reason have you to suppose that? He's an Englishman, is henot?"

"No, he is an emigrant. "

"An emigrant! Oh, ho!" cried Mr. Vincent, with a contemptuous twirlof his lip. "What, a poor Frenchman! Good Lord! how this town isoverrun with these fellows!"

"No, doctor, " exclaimed Mrs. Robson, greatly hurt at this scorn toher lodger, whom she really loved; "whatever he be, he is not poor, for he has a power of fine things; he has got a watch all overdiamonds, and diamond rings, and diamond pictures without number. So, doctor, you need not fear you are attending him for charity; no, Iwould sell my gown first. "

"Nay, don't be offended, Mrs. Robson; I meant no offence, " returnedhe, much mollified by this explanation; "but, really, when we see thebread that should feed our children and our own poor eaten up by aparcel of lazy French drones--all _Sans Culottes_ [The democraticrabble were commonly so called at that early period of the FrenchRevolution; and certainly some of their demagogues did cross theChannel at times, counterfeiting themselves to be loyal emigrants, while assiduously disseminating their destructive principles whereverthey could find an entrance. ] in disguise, for aught we know, whocover our land, and destroy its produce like a swarm of filthylocusts--we should be fools not to murmur. But Mr. ----, Mr. ----, whatdo you call him, Mrs. Robson? is a different sort of body. "

"Mr. Constantine, " replied she, "and indeed he is; and no doubt, whenyou recover him, he will pay you as though he were in his owncountry. "

This last assertion banished all remaining suspicion from the mind ofthe apothecary; and, after giving the good woman what orders hethought requisite, he returned home, promising to call again in theevening. 

Mrs. Robson went up stairs to the count's chamber with othersentiments to her sapient doctor than those with which she came down. She well recollected the substance of his discourse, and she gatheredfrom it that, however clever he might be in his profession, he was ahard-hearted man, who would rather see a fellow-creature perish thanadminister relief to him without a reward. She had paid him to theuttermost farthing for her poor son. 

But here Mrs. Robson was mistaken. She did him justice in esteeminghis medical abilities, which were great. He had made medicine thestudy of his life, and not allowing any other occupation to disturbhis attention, he became master of that science, but remainedignorant of every other with which it had no connection. He was thefather of a family, and, in the usual acceptation of the term, a verygood sort of a man. He preferred his country to every other, becauseit was his country; he loved his wife and his children; he was kindto the poor, to whom he gave his advice gratis, and letters to thedispensary for drugs; and when he had any broken victuals to spare, he desired that they might be divided amongst them; but he seldomcaught his maid obeying this part of his commands withoutreprimanding her for her extravagance, in giving away what ought tobe eaten in the kitchen: "in these times, it was a shame to waste acrumb, and the careless hussy would come to want for thinking solightly of other people's property. "

Thus, like many in the world, he was a loyal citizen by habit, anaffectionate father from nature, and a man of charity because he nowand then felt pity, and now and then heard it preached from thepulpit. He was exhorted to be pious, and to pour wine and oil intothe wounds of his neighbor; but it never once struck him that pietyextended further than going to church, mumbling his prayers andforgetting the sermon, through most of which he generally slept; andhis commentaries on the good Samaritan were not more extensive, forit was so difficult to make him comprehend who was his neighbor, thatthe subject of the argument might have been sick, dead and buriedbefore he could be persuaded that he or she had any claims on hiscare. Indeed, his "chanty began at home;" and it was so fond of itsresidence, that it stopped there. To have been born on the other sideof the British Channel, spread an ocean between every poor foreignerand Mr. Vincent's purse which the swiftest wings of chanty couldnever cross. "He saw no reason, " he said, "for feeding the naturalenemies of our country. Would any man be mad enough to take the meatfrom his children's mouths and throw it to a swarm of wolves justlanded on the coast?" "These wolves" were his favorite metaphor whenhe spoke of the unhappy French, or of any other penniless strangersthat came in his way. 

After this explanation, it may appear paradoxical to mention aninconsistency in the mind of Mr. Vincent which never permitted him todiscover the above Cainish mark of outlawry upon a wealthy visitor, of whatever country. In fact, it was with him as with many: richeswere a splendid and thick robe that concealed all blemishes; take itaway, and probably the poor stripped wretch would be treated worsethan a criminal. 

That his new patient possessed some property was sufficient to ensurethe respect and medical skill of Mr. Vincent; and when he entered hisown house, he told his wife he had found "a very good job at Mrs. Robson's, in the illness of her lodger--a foreigner of some sort, " hesaid, "who, by her account, had feathered his nest well in the spoilsof battle (like Moore's honest Irishman) with jewels and gold. " Somuch for the accuracy of most quotations adopted according to theconvenience of the speaker. 

When the Count Sobieski quitted the Hummums, on the evening in whichhe brought away his baggage, he was so disconcerted by theimpertinence of the man who accosted him there, that he determinednot to expose himself to a similar insult by retaining a title whichmight subject him to the curiosity of the insolent and insensible;and, therefore, when Mrs. Robson asked him how she should addresshim, as he was averse to assume a feigned name, he merely said Mr. Constantine. 

Under that unobtrusive character, he hoped in time to accommodate hisfeelings to the change of fortune which Providence had allotted tohim. He must forget his nobility, his pride, and his sensibility; hemust earn his subsistence. But by what means? He was ignorant ofbusiness; and he knew not how to turn his accomplishments to account. Such were his meditations, until illness and delirium deprived him ofthem and of reason together. 

At the expiration of a week, in which Mr. Vincent attended hispatient very regularly, Sobieski was able to remove into the frontroom; but uneasiness about the debts he had so unintentionallyincurred retarded his recovery, and made his hours pass away incheerless musings on his poor means of repaying the good widow and ofsatisfying the avidity of the apothecary. Pecuniary obligation was aload to which he was unaccustomed; and once or twice the wish almostescaped his heart that he had died. 

Whenever he was left to think, such were his reflections. Mrs. Robsondiscovered that he appeared more feverish and had worse nights afterbeing much alone during the day, and therefore contrived, though shewas obliged to be in her little shop, to leave either Nanny to attendhis wants or little William to amuse him. 

This child, by its uncommon quickness and artless manner, gained uponthe count, who was ever alive to helplessness and innocence. Childrenand animals had always found a friend and protector in him. From the"majestic war-horse, with his neck clothed in thunder, " to "the poorbeetle that we tread upon"--every creature of creation met anadvocate of mercy in his breast; and as human nature is prone to lovewhat it has been kind to, Thaddeus never saw either children, dogs, or even that poor slandered and abused animal, the cat, withoutshowing them some spontaneous act of attention. 

Whatever of his affections he could spare from memory, the countlavished upon the little William. The child hardly ever left hisside, where he sat on a stool, prattling about anything that cameinto his head; or, seated on his knee, followed with his eyes andplayful fingers the hand of Thaddeus, while he sketched a horse or asoldier for his pretty companion. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XIV. 

A ROBBERY AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 

By these means Thaddeus slowly acquired sufficient strength to allowhim to quit his dressing-gown, and prepare for a walk. 

A hard frost had succeeded to the chilling damps of November; andlooking out of the window, he longed, almost eagerly, to inhale againthe fresh air. After some tender altercations with Mrs. Robson, whofeared to trust him even down stairs, he at length conquered; andtaking the little William by his hand, folded his pelisse round him, and promising to venture no further than the King's Mews, wassuffered to go out. 

As he expected, he found the keen breeze act like a charm on hisdebilitated frame; and with braced nerves and exhilarated spirits, hewalked twice up and down the place, whilst his companion playedbefore him, throwing stones, and running to pick them up. At thismoment one of the king's carriages, pursued by a concourse of people, suddenly drove in at the Charing-Cross gate. The frightened childscreamed, and fell. Thaddeus darted forward, and seizing the heads ofthe horses which were within a yard of the boy, stopped them;meanwhile, the mob gathering about, one of them raised William, whocontinued his cries. The count now let go the reins, and for a fewminutes tried to pacify his little charge; but finding that his alarmand shrieks were not to be quelled, and that his own figure, from itssingularity of dress, (his high cap and plume adding to its height)drew on him the whole attention of the people, he took the tremblingchild in his arms, and walking through the Mews, was followed by someof the bystanders to the very door of Mrs. Robson's shop. 

Seeing the people, and her grandson sobbing on the breast of herguest, she ran out, and hastily asked what had happened. Thaddeussimply answered, that the child had been frightened. But when theyentered the house, and he had thrown himself exhausted on a seat, William, as he stood by his knee, told his grandmother that if Mr. Constantine had not stopped the horses, he must have been run over. The count was now obliged to relate the whole story, which ended withthe blessings of the poor woman, for his goodness in risking his ownlife for the preservation of her darling child. 

Thaddeus in vain assured her the action deserved no thanks. 

"Well, " cried she, "it is like yourself, Mr. Constantine; you thinkall your good deeds nothing; and yet any odd little thing I can do, out of pure love to serve you, you cry up to the skies. However, wewon't fall out; I say, heaven bless you! and that is enough. Has yourwalk refreshed you? But I need not ask; you have got a fine color. "

"Yes, " returned he, rising and taking off his cap and cloak, "it hasput me in aglow, and made me quite another creature. " As he finishedspeaking, he dropped the things from the hand that held them, andstaggered back a few paces against the wall. 

"Good Lord! what is the matter?" cried Mrs. Robson, looking in hisface, which was now pale as death; "what is the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing, " returned he, recovering himself, and gathering upthe cloak he had let fall; "don't mind me, Mrs. Robson; nothing:" andhe was leaving the kitchen, but she followed him, terrified at hislook and manner. 

"Pray, Mr. Constantine!"

"Nay, my dear madam, " said he, leading her back, "I am not well; Ibelieve my walk has overcome me. Let me be a few minutes alone, tillI have recovered myself. It will oblige me. "

"Well, sir, as you please!" and then, laying her withered handfearfully upon his arm, "forgive me, dear sir, " said she, "if myattentions are troublesome. Indeed, I fear that sometimes great loveappears like great impertinence; I would always be serving you, andtherefore I often forget the wide difference between your honor'sstation and mine. "

The count could only press her hand gratefully, and with an emotionwhich made him hurry up stairs to hide. When in his own room, he shutthe door, and cast a wild and inquisitive gaze around the apartment;then, throwing himself into a chair, he struck his head with hishand, and exclaimed, "It is gone! What will become of me?--of thispoor woman, whose substance I have consumed?"

It was true; the watch, by the sale of which he had calculated todefray the charges of his illness, was indeed lost. A villain in thecrowd, having perceived the sparkling of the chain, had taken itunobserved from his side; and he knew nothing of his loss until, feeling for his watch to see the hour, he discovered his misfortune. 

The shock went like a stroke of electricity through his frame; but itwas not until the last glimmering of hope was extinguished, onexamining his room where he thought he might have left it, that hesaw the full horror of his situation. 

He sat for some minutes, absorbed, and almost afraid to think. It wasnot his own, but the necessities of the poor woman, who had, perhaps, incurred debts on herself to afford him comforts, which bore so hardupon him. At last, rising from his seat, he exclaimed, "I must determine on something. Since this is gone, I must seek whatelse I have to part with, for I cannot long bear my presentfeelings!"

He opened the drawer which contained his few valuables. 

With a trembling hand he took them out one by one. There were severaltrinkets which had been given to him by his mother; and a pair ofinlaid pistols, which his grandfather put into his belt on themorning of the dreadful 10th of October; his miniature lay beneaththem: the mild eyes of the palatine seemed beaming with affectionupon his grandson. Thaddeus snatched it up, kissed it fervently, andthen laid it back into the drawer, whilst he hid his face with hishands. 

When he recovered himself, he replaced the pistols, believing that itwould be sacrilege to part with them. Without allowing himself timeto think, he put a gold pencil-case and a pair of brilliant sleeve-buttons into his waistcoat pocket. 

He descended the stairs with a soft step, and passing the kitchen-door unperceived by his landlady, crossed through a little court; andthen anxiously looking from right to left, in quest of some shopwhere he might probably dispose of the trinkets, he took his way upCastle Street, and along Leicester Square. 

When he turned up the first street to his right, he was impeded bytwo persons who stood in his path, the one selling, the other buyinga hat. The thought immediately struck Thaddeus to ask one of thesemen (who appeared to be a Jew, and a vender of clothes) to purchasehis pelisse. By parting with a thing to which he annexed no morevalue than the warmth it afforded him, he should possibly sparehimself the pain, for this time at least, of sacrificing those giftsof his mother, which had been bestowed upon him in happier days, andhallowed by her caresses. 

He did not permit himself to hesitate, but desired the Jew to followhim into a neighboring court. The man obeyed; and having no ideasindependent of his trade, asked the count what he wanted to buy. 

"Nothing: I want to sell this pelisse, " returned he, opening it. 

The Jew, without any ceremony, inspected its covering and its liningof fur. 

"Ay, I see: black cloth and sable; but who would buy it of me? Anembroidered collar! nobody wears such things here. "

"Then I am answered, " replied Thaddeus. 

"Stop, sir, " cried the Jew, pursuing him, "what will you take forit?"

"What would you give me?"

"Let me see. It is very long and wide. At the utmost I cannot offeryou more than five guineas. "

A few months ago, it had cost the count a hundred; but glad to getany money, however small, he readily closed with the man's price; andtaking off the cloak, gave it to him, and put the guineas into hispocket. 

He had not walked much further before the piercing cold of theevening, and a shower of snow, which began to fall, made him feel theeffects of his loss; however, that did not annoy him; he had been tooheavily assailed by the pitiless rigors of misfortune to regard thepelting of the elements. Whilst the wind blew in his face, and thesleet falling on his dress, lodged in its lappels, he went forward, calculating whether it were likely that this money, with the fewshillings he yet possessed, would be sufficient to discharge what heowed. Unused as he had been to all kinds of expenditure whichrequired attention, he supposed, from what he had already seen of acommerce with the world, that the sum he had received from the Jewwas not above half what he needed; and with a beating heart he walkedtowards one of those shops which Mrs. Robson had described, whenspeaking of the irregularities of her son, who had nearly reduced herto beggary. 

The candles were lit. And as he hovered about the door, he distinctlysaw the master through the glass, assorting some parcels on thecounter. He was a gentleman-like man, and the count's feelings tookquite a different turn from those with which he had accosted the Jew, who, being a low, sordid wretch, looked upon the people with whom hetrafficked as mere purveyors to his profit. Thaddeus felt littlerepugnance at bargaining with him: but the sight of a respectableperson, before whom he was to present himself as a man in poverty, asone who, in a manner, appealed to charity, all at once overcame theresolution of a son of Sobieski, and he debated whether or not heshould return. Mrs. Robson, and her probable distresses, rose beforehim; and fearful of trusting his pride any further, he pulled his capover his face, and entered the shop. 

The man bowed very civilly on his entrance, and requested to behonored with his commands. Thaddeus felt his face glow; but indignantat his own weakness, he laid the gold case on the counter, and said, in a voice which, notwithstanding his emotion, he constrained to bewithout appearance of confusion, "I want to part with this. "

Astonished at the dignity of the applicant's air, and the nobility ofhis dress, (for the star did not escape the shop-keeper's eye), helooked at him for a moment, holding the case in his hand. Hurt by thesteadiness of his gaze, the count, rather haughtily, repeated what hehad said. The man hesitated no longer. He had been accustomed tosimilar requests from the emigrant French _noblesse_; but therewas a loftiness and aspect of authority in the countenance and mienof this person which surprised and awed him; and with a respect whicheven the application could not counteract, he opened the case, andinquired of Thaddeus what was the price he affixed to it. 

"I leave that to you, " replied he. 

"The gold is pure, " returned the man, "but it is very thin; I cannotgive more than three guineas. Though the workmanship is fine, it isnot in the fashion of England, and will be of no benefit to me tillmelted. "

"You may have it, " said Thaddeus, hardly able to articulate, whilethe gift of his mother was passing into a stranger's hand. 

The man directly paid him down the money, and the count, with abursting heart, darted out of the shop. 

Mrs. Robson was shutting up the windows of her little parlor, when hehastily passed her and glided up the stairs. Hardly believing hersenses, she hastened after him, and just got into the room as hedrank off a glass of water. 

"Good lack! sir, where has your honor been? I thought you were allthe while in the house, and I would not come near, though I was veryuneasy; and there has been poor William crying himself blind, becauseyou desired to be left alone. "

Thaddeus was unprepared to make an answer. He was in hopes to havegotten in as he had stolen out, undiscovered; for he determined notto agitate her too kind mind by the history of his loss. He would notallow her to know anything of his embarrassments, from a sentiment ofjustice, as well as from that sensitive pride which all hissufferings and philosophy could not wholly subdue. 

"I have been taking a walk, Mrs. Robson. "

"Dear heart! I thought when you staggered back, and looked so ill, after you brought in William, you had over-walked yourself. "

"No; I fancy my fears had a little discomposed me; and I hoped thatmore air might do me good; I tried it, and it has: but I am grievedfor having alarmed you. "

This ambiguous speech satisfied his worthy landlady; and, fatigued bya bodily exertion, which, in the present feeble state of his frame, nothing less than the resolution of his mind could have carried himthrough, Thaddeus went directly to bed, where tired nature soon foundtemporary repose in a profound sleep. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE WIDOW'S FAMILY. 

Next morning Sobieski found himself rather better than worse by theexertions of the preceding clay. When Nanny appeared as usual withhis breakfast and little William, (who always sat on his knee, andshared his bread and butter, ) the count desired her to request hergrandmother to send to Mr. Vincent with his compliments, and to sayher lodger felt himself so much recovered as to decline any furthermedical aid, and therefore wished to have his bill. 

Mrs. Robson, who could not forget the behavior of the apothecary, undertook to deliver the message herself, happy in the triumph sheshould enjoy over the littleness of Mr. Vincent's suspicions. 

After the lapse of a quarter of an hour, she re-appeared in thecount's rooms, accompanied by the apothecary's assistant, who, withmany thanks, received the sum total of the account, which amounted tothree guineas for ten days' attendance. 

The man having withdrawn, Thaddeus told Mrs. Robson, he should nextdefray the smallest part of the vast debt he must ever owe to herparental care. 

"Oh, bless your honor, it goes to my heart to take a farthing of you!but these poor children, " cried she, laying a hand on each, and hereyes glistening, "they look up to me as their all here; and myquarter-day was yesterday, else, dear sir, I should scorn to be likeDoctor Vincent, and take your money the moment you offer it. "

"My good madam, " returned Sobieski, giving her a chair, "I amsensible of your kindness: but it is your just due; and the paymentof it can never lessen your claim on my gratitude for the maternalcare with which you have attended me, a total stranger. "

"Then, there, sir, " said she, looking almost as ashamed as if shewere robbing him, when she laid it on the table; "there is my bill. Ihave regularly set down everything. Nanny will bring it to me. " Andquite disconcerted, the good woman hurried out of the room. 

Thaddeus looked after her with reverence. 

"There goes, " thought he, "in that lowly and feeble frame, asgenerous and noble a spirit: as ever animated the breast of aprincess! Here, Nanny, " said he, glancing his eye over the paper, "there is the gold, with my thanks; and tell your grandmother I amastonished at her economy. "

This affair over, the count was relieved of a grievous load; andturning the remaining money in his hand, how he might replenish thelittle stock before it were expended next occupied his attention. Notwithstanding the pawnbroker's civil treatment, he recoiled atagain presenting himself at his shop. Besides, should he dispose ofall that he possessed, it might not be of sufficient value here tosubsist him a month. He must think of some source within himself thatwas not likely to be so soon exhausted. To be reduced a second timeto the misery which he had endured yesterday from suspense andwretchedness, appeared too dreadful to be hazarded, and he ran overin his memory the different merits of his several accomplishments. 

He could not make any use of his musical talents; for at publicexhibitions of himself his soul revolted; and as to his literaryacquirements, his youth, and being a foreigner, precluded all hopeson that head. At length he found that his sole dependence must reston his talents for painting. Of this art he had always beenremarkably fond; and his taste easily perceived that there were manydrawings exhibited for sale much inferior to those which he hadexecuted for mere amusement. 

He decided at once; and purchasing, by the means of Nanny, pencilsand Indian ink, he set to work. 

When he had finished half-a-dozen drawings, and was considering howhe might find the street in which he had seen the print-shops, therecollection occurred to him of the impression his appearance hadmade on the pawnbroker. He perceived the wide difference between hisapparel and the fashion of England; and considering the security fromimpertinence with which he might walk about, could he so far cast offthe relics of his former rank as to change his dress, he rose up withan intention to go out and purchase a surtout coat and a hat for thatpurpose, when catching an accidental view of his uniform, with thestar of St. Stanislaus on its breast, as he passed the glass, he nolonger wondered at the curiosity which such an appendage, united withpoverty, had attracted. Rather than again subject himself to asimilar situation, he summoned his young messenger; and, by herassistance, furnished himself with an English hat and coat, whilstwith his penknife he cut away the embroidery of the order from thecloth to which it was affixed. 

Thus accoutred, with his hat flapped over his face and his great-coatwrapped round him, he put the drawings into his bosom, and abouteight o'clock in the evening walked out on his disagreeable errand. After some wearying search, he at last found Great Newport Street, the place he wanted; but as he advanced, his hopes died away, and hisfears and reluctance re-awakened. He stopped at the door of thenearest print-shop. All that he had suffered at the pawnbroker'sassailed him with redoubled violence. What he presented therepossessed a fixed value, and was at once to be taken or refused; butnow he was going to offer things of mere taste, and he might meet notonly with a denial, but affronting remarks. 

He walked to the threshold of the door, then as hastily withdrew, andhurried two or three paces down the street. 

"Weak, contemptible that I am!" said he to himself, as he againturned round; "where is all my reason, and rectitude of principle, that I would rather endure the misery of dependence and self-reproachthan dare the attempt to seek support from the fruits of my ownindustry?"

He quickened his step and started into the shop, almost fearful ofhis former irresolution. He threw his drawings instantly upon thecounter. 

"Sir, you purchase drawings. I have these to sell. Will they suityou?"

The man took them up without deigning to look at the person who hadaccosted him, and turning them over in his hand, "One, two, three, hum; there is half-a-dozen. What do you expect for them?"

"I am not acquainted with the prices of these things. "

The printseller, hearing this, thought, by managing well, to get themfor what he liked, and throwing them over with an air of contempt, resumed--

"And pray, where may the views be taken?"

"They are recollections of scenes in Germany. "

"Ah!" replied the man, "mere drugs! I wish, honest friend, you couldhave brought subjects not quite so threadbare, and a little betterexecuted; they are but poor things! But every dauber nowadays sets upfor a fine artist, and thinks we are to pay him for spoilt paper andconceit. "

Insulted by this speech, and, above all, by the manner of theprintseller, Thaddeus was snatching up the drawings to leave the shopwithout a word, when the man, observing his design, and afraid tolose them, laid his hand on the heap, exclaiming--

"Let me tell you, young man, it does not become a person in yoursituation to be so huffy to his employers. I will give you a guineafor the six, and you may think yourself well paid. "

Without further hesitation, whilst the count was striving to subduethe choler which urged him to knock him down, the man laid the goldon the counter, and was slipping the drawings into a drawer; butThaddeus, snatching them out again, suddenly rolled them up, andwalked out of the shop as he said--

"Not all the money of all your tribe should tempt an honest man topollute himself by exchanging a second word with one socontemptible. "

Irritated at this unfeeling treatment, he returned home, too muchprovoked to think of the consequences which might follow a similardisappointment. 

Having become used to the fluctuations of his looks and behavior, thewidow ceased altogether to tease him with inquiries, which she saw hewas sometimes loath to answer. She now allowed him to walk in and outwithout a remark, and silently contemplated his pale and melancholycountenance, when, after a ramble of the greatest part of the day, hereturned home exhausted and dispirited. 

William was always the first to welcome his friend at the threshold, by running to him, taking hold of his coat, and asking to go with himup stairs. The count usually gratified him, and brightened many dullhours with his innocent caresses. 

This child was literally his only earthly comfort; for he saw that inhim he could still excite those emotions of happiness which had onceafforded him his sweetest joy. William ever greeted him with smiles, and when he entered the kitchen, sprang to his bosom, as if that werethe seat of peace, as it was of virtue. But, alas! fate seemedadverse to lend anything long to the unhappy Thaddeus which mightrender his desolate state more tolerable. 

Just risen from a bed of sickness, he required the hand of sometender nurse to restore his wasted vigor, instead of being reduced tothe hard vigils of poverty and want. His recent disappointment, addedto a cold which he had caught, increased his feverish debility; yethe adhered to the determination not to appropriate to his ownsubsistence the few valuables he had assigned as a deposit for thecharges of his rent. During a fortnight he never tasted anythingbetter than bread and water; but this hermit's fare was accompaniedby the resigned thought that if it ended in death, his sufferingswould then be over, and the widow amply remunerated by what little ofhis property remained. 

In this state of body and mind he received a most painful shock, whenone evening, returning from a walk of many hours, in the place of hislittle favorite, he met Mrs. Robson in tears at the door. She toldhim William had been sickening all the day, and was now so delirious, that neither she nor his sister could keep him quiet. 

Thaddeus went to the side of the child's bed, where he lay gasping onthe pillow, held clown by the crying Nanny. The count touched hischeek. 

"Poor child!" exclaimed he; "he is in a high fever. Have you sent forMr. Vincent?"

"O, no; I had not the heart to leave him. "

"Then I will go directly, " returned Thaddeus "there is not a momentto be lost. "

The poor woman thanked him. Hastening through the streets with aneagerness which nearly overset several of the foot-passengers, hearrived at Lincoln's-Inn-fields; and in less than five minutes afterhe quitted Mrs. Robson's door he returned with the apothecary. 

On Mr. Vincent's examining the pulse and countenance of his littlepatient, he declared the symptoms to be the small-pox, which somecasualty had repelled. 

In a paroxysm of distress, Mrs. Robson recollected that a girl hadbeen brought into her shop three days ago, just recovered from thatfrightful malady. 

Thaddeus tried to subdue the fears of the grandmother, and at lastsucceeded in persuading her to go to bed, whilst he and Nanny wouldwatch by the pillow of the invalid. 

Towards morning the disorder broke out on the child's face, and herecovered his recollection. The moment he fixed his eyes on thecount, who was leaning over him, he stretched out his little arms, and begged to lie on his breast. Thaddeus refused him gently, fearingthat by any change of position he might catch cold, and so againretard what had now so fortunately appeared; but the poor childthought the denial unkind, and began to weep so violently, that hisanxious friend believed it better to gratify him than hazard theirritation of his fever by agitation and crying. 

Thaddeus took him out of bed, and rolling him in one of the blankets, laid him in his bosom; and drawing his dressing-gown to shield thelittle face from the fire, held him in that situation asleep fornearly two hours. 

When Mrs. Robson came down stairs at six o'clock in the morning, shekissed the hand of the count as he sustained her grandson in hisarms; and almost speechless with gratitude to him, and solicitude forthe child, waited the arrival of the apothecary. 

On his second visit, he said a few words to her of comfort, butwhispered to the count, while softly feeling William's pulse, thatnothing short of the strictest care could save the boy, the infectionhe had received having been of the most malignant kind. 

These words fell like an unrepealable sentence on the heart ofThaddeus. Looking on the discolored features of the patient infant, he fancied that he already beheld its clay-cold face, and its littlelimbs stretched in death. The idea was bitterness to him; andpressing the boy to his breast, he resolved that no attention shouldbe wanting on his part to preserve him from the grave. And he kepthis promise. 

From that hour until the day in which the poor babe expired in hisarms, he never laid him out of them for ten minutes together; andwhen he did breathe his last sigh, and raised up his little eyes, Thaddeus met their dying glance with a pang which he thought his soulhad long lost the power to feel. His heart seemed to stop; andcovering the motionless face of the dead child with his hand, he madea sign to Nanny to leave the room. 

The girl, who from respect had been accustomed to obey his slightestnod, went to her grandmother in the shop. 

The instant the girl quitted the room, with mingled awe and grief thecount lifted the little corpse from his knee; and without allowinghimself to cast another glance on the face of the poor infant, nowreleased from suffering, he put it on the bed, and throwing the sheetover it, sunk into a chair and burst into tears. 

The entrance of Mrs. Robson in some measure restored him; for themoment she perceived her guest with his handkerchief over his eyes, she judged what had happened, and, with a piercing scream, flewforward to the bed, where, pulling down the covering, she utteredanother shriek, and must have fallen on the floor had not Thaddeusand little Nanny, who ran in at her cries, caught her in their armsand bore her to a chair. 

Her soul was too much agitated to allow her to continue long in astate of insensibility; and when she recovered, she would again haveapproached the deceased child, but the count withheld her, and tryingby every means in his power to soothe her, so far succeeded as tomelt her agonies into tears. 

Whilst she concealed her venerable head in the bosom of hergranddaughter, he once more lifted the remains of the little William;and thinking it best for the tranquillity of the unhappy grandmotherto take him out of her sight, he carried him up stairs, and laid himon his own bed. 

By the time he returned to the humble parlor, one of the femaleneighbors, having heard the unusual outcry, and suspecting the cause, kindly stepped in to offer her consolation and services. Mrs. Robsoncould only reply by sobs, which were answered by the loud weeping ofpoor Nanny, who lay with her head against the table. 

When the count came down, he thanked the worthy woman for herbenevolent intentions, and took her up stairs into his apartments. Pointing to the open door of the bedroom, "There, madam, " said he, "you will find the remains of my dear little friend. I beg you willdirect everything for his interment that you think will givesatisfaction to Mrs. Robson. I would spare that excellent woman everypang in my power. "

All was done according to his desire; and Mrs. Watts, the charitableneighbor, excited by a kindly disposition, and reverence for "theextraordinary young gentleman who lodged with her friend, " performedher task with tenderness and activity. 

"Oh! sir, " cried Mrs. Robson, weeping afresh as she entered thecount's room, "Oh, sir, how shall I ever repay all your goodness? andMrs. Watt's? She has acted like a sister to me. But, indeed, I am yetthe most miserable creature that lives. I have lost my dearest child, and must strip his poor sister of her daily bread to bury him. Thatcruel Dr. Vincent, though he might have imagined my distress, senthis account late last night, saying he wanted to make up a largebill, and he wished I would let him have all, or part of the payment. Heaven knows, I have not a farthing in the house; but I will sendpoor little Nanny to pawn my silver spoons, for, alas! I have noother means of satisfying the cruel man. "

"Rapacious wretch!" cried Thaddeus, rising indignantly from hischair, and for a moment forgetting how incapable he was to affordrelief: "you shall not be indebted one instant to his mercy. I willpay him. "

The words had passed his lips; he could not retract, thoughconviction immediately followed that he had not the means; and hewould not have retracted, even should he be necessitated to part witheverything he most valued. 

Mrs. Robson was overwhelmed by this generous promise, which, indeed, saved her from ruin. Had her little plate been pledged, it could nothave covered one half of Mr. Vincent's demand, who, to do himjustice, did not mean to cause any distress. But having been soreadily paid by Thaddeus for his own illness, and observing his greatcare and affection for the deceased child, he did not doubt that, rather than allow Mrs. Robson a minute's uneasiness, her lodger woulddefray his bill. So far he calculated right; but he had notsufficient sagacity to foresee that in getting his money this way, heshould lose the future business of Mrs. Robson and her friend. 

The child was to be buried on the morrow, the expenses of which eventThaddeus saw he must discharge also; and he had engaged to pay Mr. Vincent that night! He had not a shilling in his purse. Over and overhe contemplated the impracticability of answering these debts; yet hecould not for an instant repent of what he had undertaken: he thoughthe was amply recompensed for bearing so heavy a load in knowing thathe had taken it off the worn-down heart of another. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE MONEY-LENDER. 

Since the count's unmannerly treatment at the printseller's, he hadnot sufficiently conquered his pride to attempt an application toanother. Therefore, he had no prospect of collecting the money he hadpledged himself to Mrs. Robson to pay but by selling some more of hisvaluables to the pawnbroker. 

For this purpose he took his sabre, his pistols, and the fatedbrilliants he had brought back on a similar errand. He drew them fromtheir deposit, with less feeling of sacrilege, in so disposing ofsuch relics of the sacred past, than he had felt on the formeroccasion. They were now going to be devoted to gratitude andbenevolence--an act which he knew his parents, were they alive, wouldwarmly approve; and here he allowed the end to sanctify the means. 

About half-past six in the evening, he prepared himself for the task. Whether it be congenial with melancholy to seek the gloom, or whetherthe count found himself less observed under the shades of night, isnot evident; but since his exile, he preferred the dusk to any otherpart of the day. 

Before he went out, he asked Mrs. Robson for Mr. Vincent's bill. Sinking with obligation and shame, she put it into his hand, and heleft the house. When he approached a lighted lamp, he opened thepaper to see the amount, and finding that it was almost two pounds, he hastened forward to the pawn-broker's. 

The man was in the shop alone. Thaddeus thought himself fortunate;and, after subduing a few qualms, entered the door. The moment helaid his sword and pistols on the counter, and declared his wish, theman, even through the disguise of a large coat and slouched hat, recollected him. This honest money-lender carried sentiments in hisbreast above his occupation. He did not commiserate all who presentedthemselves before him, because many exhibited too evidently theexcesses which brought them to his shop. But there was something inthe figure and manner of the Count Sobieski which had struck him atfirst sight, and by continuing to possess his thoughts, had excitedso great an interest towards him as to produce pleasure with regret, when he discerned the noble foreigner again obliged to proffer suchthings. 

Mr. Burket (for so this money-lender was called) respectfully askedwhat he demanded for the arms. 

"Perhaps more than you would give. But I have something else here, "laying down the diamonds; "I want eight guineas. "

Mr. Burket looked at them, and then at their owner, hesitated andthen spoke. 

"I beg your pardon, sir; I hope I shall not offend you, but thesethings appear to have a value independent of their price; they areinlaid with crests and ciphers. "

The blood flushed over the cheeks of the count. He had forgotten thiscircumstance. Unable to answer, he waited to hear what the man wouldsay further. 

"I repeat, sir, I mean not to offend; but you appear a stranger tothese transactions. I only wish to suggest, in case you should everlike to repossess these valuables--had you not better pledge them?"

"How?" asked Thaddeus, irresolutely, and not knowing what to think ofthe man's manner. 

At that instant some other people came into the shop; and Mr. Burket, gathering up the diamonds and the arms in his hand, said, "If you donot object, sir, we will settle this business in my back-parlor. "

The delicacy of his behavior penetrated the mind of Thaddeus, andwithout demurring, he followed him into a room. While Mr. Burketoffered his guest a chair, the count took off his hat and laid it onthe table. Burket contemplated the saddened dignity of hiscountenance with renewed interest entreating him to be seated, heresumed the conversation. 

"I see, sir, you do not understand the meaning of pledging, orpawning, for it is one and the same thing; but I will explain it intwo words. If you leave these things with me, I will give you a paperin acknowledgment, and lend on them the guineas you request; forwhich sum, when you return it to me with a stated interest, you shallhave your deposit in exchange. "

Sobieski received this offer with pleasure and thanks. He hadentertained no idea of anything more being meant by the trade of apawnbroker than a man who bought what others wished to sell. 

"Then, sir, " continued Burket, opening an escritoire, "I will giveyou the money, and write the paper I spoke of. "

Just as he put his hand to the drawer, he heard voices in anadjoining passage; and instantly shutting the desk, he caught up thethings on the table, threw them behind a curtain, and hastily takingthe count by the hand, said, "My dear sir, do oblige me, and stepinto that closet; you will find a chair. A person is coming, whom Iwill dispatch in a few seconds. "

Thaddeus, rather surprised at such hurry, did as he was desired; andthe door was closed on him just as the parlor door opened. Beingaware from such concealment that the visitor came on secret business, he found his situation not a little awkward. Seated behind acurtained window, which the lights in the room made transparent, hecould not avoid seeing as well as hearing everything that passed. 

"My dear Mr. Burket, " cried an elegant young creature, who ran intothe apartment, "positively without your assistance, I shall beundone. "

"Anything in my power, madam, " returned My. Burket, with a distant, respectful voice; "will your ladyship sit down?"

"Yes; give me a chair. I am half dead with distraction. Mr. Burket, Imust have another hundred upon those jewels. "

"Indeed, my lady, it is not in my power; you have already had twelvehundred; and, upon my honor, that is a hundred and fifty more than Iought to have given. "

"Pshaw! who minds the honor of a pawnbroker!" cried the lady, laughing; "you know very well you live by cheating. "

"Well, ma'am, " returned he, with a good-natured smile, "as yourladyship pleases. "

"Then I please that you let me have another hundred. Why, man, youknow you let Mrs. Hinchinbroke two thousand upon a case of diamondsnot a quarter so many as mine. "

"But consider, madam; Mrs. Hinchinbroke's were of the best water. "

"Positively, Mr. Burnet, " exclaimed her ladyship, purposelymiscalling his name, "not better than mine! The King of Sardinia gavethem to Sir Charles when he knighted him. I know mine are the best, and I must have another hundred. Upon my life, my servants have nothad a guinea of board wages these four months, and they tell me theyare starving. Come, make haste, Mr. Burnet you cannot expect me tostay here all night; give me the money. "

"Indeed, my lady, I cannot. "

"Heavens! what a brute of a man you are! There, " cried she, taking astring of pearls from her neck, and throwing it on the table; "lendme some of your trumpery out of your shop, for I am going immediatelyfrom hence to take the Misses Dundas to the opera; so give me thehundred on that, and let me go. "

"This is not worth a hundred. "

"What a teasing man you are!" cried her ladyship, angrily. "Well, letme have the money now, and I will send you the bracelets which belongto the necklace to-morrow. "

"Upon those conditions I will give your ladyship another hundred. "

"Oh, do; you are the veriest miser I ever met with. You are worsethan Shylock, or, --Good gracious! what is this?" exclaimed she, interrupting herself, and taking up the draft he had laid before her;"and have you the conscience to think, Mr. Pawnbroker, that I willoffer this at your banker's? that I will expose myself so far? No, no; take it back, and give me gold. Come, dispatch! else I mustdisappoint my party. Look, there is my purse, " added she, showing it;"make haste and fill it. "

After satisfying her demands, Mr. Burket handed her ladyship out theway she came in, which was by a private passage; and having seatedher in her carriage, made his bow. 

Meanwhile the Count Sobieski, wrapped in astonishment at theprofligacy which the scene he had witnessed implied, remained inconcealment until the pawnbroker returned, and opened the closet-door. 

"Sir, " said he, coloring, "you have, undesignedly on your part, beenprivy to a very delicate affair; but my credit, sir, and your honor--"

"Shall both be sacred, " replied the count, anxious to relieve thepoor man from his perplexity, and forbearing to express surprise. ButBurket perceived it in his look; and before he proceeded to fulfillthe engagement with him, stepped half way to the escritoire, andresumed. 

"You appear amazed, sir, at what you have seen. And if I am notmistaken, you are from abroad?"

"Indeed, I am amazed, " replied Sobieski; "and I am from a countrywhere the slightest suspicion of a transaction such as this wouldbrand the woman with infamy. "

"And so it ought, " answered Burket; "though by that assertion I speakagainst my own interest, for it is by such as Lady Hilliars we makeour money. Now, sir, " continued he, drawing nearer to the table, "perhaps, after what you have just beheld, you will not hesitate tocredit what I am going to tell you. I have now in my hands the jewelsof one duchess, of three countesses, and of women of fashion withoutnumber. When these ladies have an ill run at play, they apply to mein their exigencies; they bring their diamonds here, and as theiroccasions require, on that deposit I lend them money, for which theymake me a handsome present when the jewels are released. "

"You astonish me!" exclaimed Thaddeus; "what a degrading system ofdeceit must govern the lives of these women!"

"It is very lamentable, " returned Burket; "but so it is. And theycontinue to manage matters very cleverly. By giving me their note orword of honor, (for if these ladies are not honorable with me, I knowby what hints to keep them in order, ) I allow them to have the jewelsout for the birth-days, and receive them again when their exhibitionis over. As a compensation for these little indulgences, I expectconsiderable additions to the _douceur_ at the end. "

Thaddeus could hardly believe such a history of those women, whomtravellers mentioned as not only the most lovely but the most amiablecreatures in the world. 

"Surely, Mr. Burket, " cried he, "these ladies must despise eachother, and become contemptible even to our sex. "

"O, no, " rejoined the pawnbroker; "they seldom trust each other inthese affairs. All my fair customers are not so silly as that prettylittle lady who just now left us. She and another woman of qualityhave made each other confidants in this business. And I have no mercywhen both come together! They are as ravenous of my money as if ithad no other use but to supply them. As to their husbands, brothers, and fathers, they are usually the last people who suspect or hear ofthese matters; their applications, when they run out, are made toJews and professed usurers, a race completely out of our line. "

"But are all English women of quality of this disgraceful stamp?"

"No; Heaven forbid!" cried Burket; "if these female spendthrifts werenot held in awe by the dread of superior characters, we could have nodependence on their promises. Oh, no; there are ladies about thecourt whose virtues are as eminent as their rank; women whose actionsmight all be performed in mid-day, before the world; and them I neversee within my doors. "

"Well, Mr. Burket, " rejoined Thaddeus, smiling; "I am glad to hearthat. Yet I cannot forget the unexpected view of the famous Britishfair which this night has offered to my eyes. It is strange!"

"It is very bad, indeed, sir, " returned the man, giving him the moneyand the paper he had been preparing; "but if you should have occasionto call again upon me, perhaps you may be astonished still further. "

The count bowed; and thanking him for his kindness, wished him a goodevening and left the shop. [Footnote: The whole of this scene at thepawnbroker's is too true; the writer knows it from an eye and ear-witness. ]

It was about seven o'clock when Thaddeus arrived at the apothecary's. Mr. Vincent was from home. To say the truth, he had purposely goneout of the way. For though he did not hesitate to commit a shabbyaction, he wanted courage to face its consequence; and to avoid theprobable remonstrances of Mrs. Robson, he commissioned his assistantto receive the amount of the bill. Without making an observation, thecount paid the man, and was returning homeward along Duke Street andthe piazzas of Drury Lane Theatre, when the crowd around the doorsconstrained him to stop. 

After two or three ineffectual attempts to get through the bustle, heretreated a little behind the mob, at the moment when a chariot drewup, and a gentleman stepping out with two ladies, darted with theminto the house. One glance was sufficient for Sobieski, whorecognized his friend Pembroke Somerset, in full dress, gay andlaughing. The heart of Thaddeus sprang to him at the sight; andforgetting his neglect, and his own misfortunes, he ejaculated--

"Somerset!"

Trembling with eagerness and emotion, he pressed through the crowd, and entered the passage at the instant a green door within shut uponhis friend. 

His disappointment was dreadful. To be so near Somerset, and to losehim, was more than he could sustain. His bounding heart recoiled, andthe chill of despair running through his veins turned him faint. Leaning against the passage door, he took his hat off to give himselfair. He scarcely had stood a minute in this situation, revolvingwhether he should follow his friend into the house or wait until hecame out again, when a gentleman begged him to make way for a partyof ladies that were entering. Thaddeus moved to one side; but theopening of the green door casting a strong light both on his face andthe group behind, his eyes and those of the impertinent inquisitor ofthe Hummums met each other. 

Whether the man was conscious that he deserved chastisement for hisformer insolence, and dreaded to meet it now, cannot be explained;but he turned pale, and shuffled by Thaddeus, as if he were fearfulto trust himself within reach of his grasp. As for the count, he wastoo deeply interested in his own pursuit to waste one surmise uponhim. 

He continued to muse on the sight of Pembroke Somerset, which hadconjured up ten thousand fond and distressing recollections; and withimpatient anxiety, determining to watch till the performance wasover, he thought of inquiring his friend's address of the servants;but on looking round for that purpose, he perceived the chariot haddriven away. 

Thus foiled, he returned to his post near the green door, which wasopened at intervals by footmen passing and repassing. Seeing that thechamber within was a lobby, in which it would be less likely heshould miss his object than if he continued standing without, heentered with the next person that approached; finding seats along thesides he sat down on the one nearest to the stairs. 

His first idea was to proceed into the playhouse. But he consideredthe small chance of discovering any particular individual in so vasta building as not equal to the expense he must incur. Besides, fromthe dress of the gentlemen who entered the box-door, he was sensiblethat his greatcoat and round hat were not admissible. [Footnote: Anearly full dress was worn at that time by ladies and gentlemen atthe great theatres. And much respect has been lost to the higherclasses by the gradual change. ]

Having remained above an hour with his eyes invariably fixed on thestairs, he observed that some curious person, who had passed almostdirectly after his friend, came down the steps and walked out. In twominutes he was returning with a smirking countenance, when, his eyesaccidentally falling on the count, (who sat with his arms folded, andalmost hidden by the shadow of the wall, ) he faltered in his step. Stretching out his neck towards him, the gay grin left his features;and exclaiming, in an impatient voice, "Confound him, " he hastenedonce more into the house. 

This rencontre with his Hummums' acquaintance affected Thaddeus asslightly as the former; and without annexing even a thought to hisfigure as it flitted by him, he remained watching in the lobby untilhalf-past eleven. At that hour the doors were thrown open, and thecompany began to pour forth. 

The count's hopes were again on his lips and in his eyes. With thefirst party who came clown the steps, he rose; and planting himselfclose to the bottom stair, drew his hat over his face, and narrowlyexamined each group as it descended. Every set that approached madehis heart palpitate. How often did it rise and fall during the longsuccession which continued moving for nearly half an hour!

By twelve the house was cleared. He saw the middle door locked, and, motionless with disappointment, did not attempt to stir, until theman who held the keys told him to go, as he was about to fasten theother doors. 

This roused Thaddeus; and as he was preparing to obey, he asked theman if there were any other passage from the boxes. 

"Yes, " cried he; "there is one into Drury Lane. "

"Then, by that I have lost him!" was the reply which he made tohimself. And returning homewards, he arrived there a few minutesafter twelve. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE MEETING OF EXILES. 

 "And they lifted up their voices and wept. "

Thaddeus awoke in the morning with his heart full of the last night'srencontre. One moment he regretted that he had not been seen by hisfriend. In the next, when he surveyed his altered state, he wasalmost reconciled to the disappointment. Then, reproaching himselffor a pride so unbecoming his principles and dishonorable tofriendship, he asked, if he were in Somerset's place, and Somerset inhis, whether he could ever pardon the morose delicacy which hadprevented the communication of his friend's misfortunes, and arrivalin the same kingdom with himself. 

These reflections soon persuaded his judgment to what his heart wasso much inclined: determining him to inquire Pembroke's address ofevery one likely to know a man of Sir Robert Somerset's consequence, and then to venture a letter. 

In the midst of these meditations the door opened, and Mrs. Robsonappeared, drowned in tears. 

"My dear, dear sir!" cried she, "my William is going. I have justtaken a last look of his sweet face. Will you go down and sayfarewell to the poor child you loved so dearly?"

"No, my good madam, " returned Thaddeus, his straying thoughts at oncegathering round this mournful centre; "I will rather retain you hereuntil the melancholy task be entirely accomplished. "

With gentle violence he forced her upon a seat, and in silencesupported her head on his breast, against which she unconsciouslyleaned and wept. He listened with a depressed heart to the removal ofthe coffin; and at the closing of the street door, which forever shutthe little William from that house in which he had been the source ofits greatest pleasure, a tear trickled down the cheek of Thaddeus;and the sobbings of the poor grandmother were audible. 

The count, incapable of speaking, pressed her hand in his. 

"Oh, Mr. Constantine!" cried she, "see how my supports, one after theother, are taken from me! first my son, and now his infant! To whatshall I be reduced?"

"You have still, my good Mrs. Robson, a friend in Heaven, who willsupply the place of all you have lost on earth. "

"True, dear sir! I am a wicked creature to speak as I have done; butit is hard to suffer: it is hard to lose all we loved in the world!"

"It is, " returned the count, greatly affected by her grief. "But God, who is perfect wisdom as well as perfect love, chooseth rather toprofit us than to please us in his dispensations. Our sweet Williamhas gained by our loss: he is blessed in heaven, while we weaklylament him on earth. Besides, you are not yet deprived of all; youhave a grand-daughter. "

"Ah, poor little thing! what will become of her when I die? I used tothink what a precious brother my darling boy would prove to hissister when I should be no more!"

This additional image augmented the affliction of the good old woman;and Thaddeus, looking on her with affectionate compassion, exclaimed--

"Mrs. Robson, the same Almighty Being that protected me, the last ofmy family, will protect the orphan offspring of a woman so like therevered Naomi!"

Mrs. Robson lifted up her head for a moment. She had never beforeheard him utter a sentence of his own history; and what he now said, added to the tender solemnity of his manner, for an instant arrestedher attention. He went on. 

"In me you see a man who, within the short space of three months, haslost a grandfather, who loved him as fondly as you did your William;a mother, whom he saw expire before him, and whose sacred remains hewas forced to leave in the hands of her murderers! Yes, Mrs. Robson, I have neither parents nor a home. I was a stranger, and you took mein; and Heaven will reward your family, in kind. At least, I promisethat whilst I live, whatever be my fate, should you be called hence, I will protect your grand-daughter with a brother's care. "

"May Heaven in mercy bless you!" cried Mrs. Robson, dropping on herknees. Thaddeus raised her with gushing eyes; having replaced her ina seat, he left the room to recover himself. 

According to the count's desire, Mrs. Watts called in the evening, with an estimate of the expenses attending the child's interment. Fees and every charge collected, the demand on his benevolence wassix pounds. The sum proved rather more than he expected, but he paidit without a demur, leaving himself only a few shillings. 

He considered what he had done as a fulfilment of a duty soindispensible, that it must have been accomplished even by thesacrifice of his uttermost farthing. Gratitude and distress heldclaims upon him which he never allowed his own necessities totransgress. All gifts of mere generosity were beyond his power, and, consequently, in a short time beyond his wish; but to the cry of wantand wretchedness his hand and heart were ever open. Often has hegiven away to a starving child in the street that pittance which wasto purchase his own scant meal; and he never felt such neglect ofhimself a privation. To have turned his eyes and ears from the littlemendicant would have been the hardest struggle; and the remembranceof such inhumanity would have haunted him on his pillow. This beingthe disposition of Count Sobieski, he found it more difficult to bearcalamity, when viewing another's poverty he could not relieve, thanwhen assailed himself by penury, in all its other shapes ofdesolation. 

Towards night, the idea of Somerset again presented itself. When hefell asleep, his dreams repeated the scene at the playhouse; again hesaw him, and again he eluded his grasp. 

His waking thoughts were not less true to their object; and nextmorning he went to a quiet coffee-house in the lane where he calledfor breakfast, and inquired of the master, "did he know the residenceof Sir Robert Somerset?" The question was no sooner asked than it wasanswered to his satisfaction. The Court Guide was examined, and hefound this address: _"Sir Robert Somerset, Bart. , GrosvenorSquare, --Somerset Castle, L----shire, ----Deerhurst, W----shire. "_

Gladdened by the discovery, Thaddeus hastened home and unwilling toaffect his friend by a sudden appearance, with an overflowing hearthe wrote the following letter:--

"To PEMBROKE SOMERSET, ESQ. , GROSVENOR SQUARE. 

"Dear Somerset, "Will the name at the bottom of this paper surprise you? Will it giveyou pleasure? I cannot suffer myself to retain a doubt! although thesilence of two years might almost convince me I am forgotten. Intruth, Somerset, I had resolved never to obtrude myself and mymisfortunes on your knowledge, until last Wednesday night, when I sawyou going into Drury Lane Theatre; the sight of you quelled all myresentment, and I called after you, but you did not hear. Pardon me, my dear friend, that I speak of resentment. It is hard to learnresignation to the forgetfulness of those we love. 

"Notwithstanding that I lost the pocket-book in a battlefield whichcontained your direction, I wrote to you frequently at a venture; andyet, though you knew in what spot in Poland you had left Thaddeus andhis family, I have never heard of you since the day of ourseparation. You must have some good reason for your silence; at leastI hope so. 

"Doubtless public report has afforded you some information relativeto the destruction of my ever-beloved country! I bear its fate onmyself. You will find me in a poor lodging at the bottom of St. Martin's Lane. You will find me changed in everything. But the firsthorrors of grief have subsided; and my clearest consolation in themidst of my affliction rises out of its bitterest cause: I thankHeaven, my revered grandfather and mother were taken from aconsummation of ills which would have reduced them to a misery I amcontent to endure alone. 

"Come to me, dear Somerset. To look on you, to press you in my arms, will be a happiness which, even in hope, makes my heart throb withpleasure. 

"I will remain at home all day to-morrow, in the expectation ofseeing you; meanwhile, adieu, my dear Somerset. You will find at No. 5 St. Martin's Lane your ever affectionate

"THADDEUS CONSTANTINE, COUNT SOBIESKI. " _Friday noon. _

"_P. S. _ Inquire for me by the name of Mr. Constantine. "[Footnote: The humble, English home of Thaddeus Sobieski is nowtotally vanished, along with the whole row of houses of which it wasone. ] With the most delightful emotions, Thaddeus sealed this letterand gave it to Nanny, with orders to inquire at the post-office "whenhe might expect an answer?" The child returned with information thatit would reach Grosvenor Square in an hour, and he could have a replyby three o'clock. 

Three o'clock arrived, and no letter. Thaddeus counted the hoursuntil midnight, but they brought him nothing but disappointment. Thewhole of the succeeding day wore away in the same uncomfortablemanner. His heart bounded at every step in the passage; and throwingopen his room-door, he listened to every person that spoke, but novoice bore any resemblance to that of Somerset. 

Night again shut in; and overcome by a train of doubts, in whichdespondence held the greatest share he threw himself on his bed, though unable to close his eyes. 

Whatever be our afflictions, not one human creature who has enduredmisfortune will hesitate to aver, that of all the tortures incidentto mortality, there are none like the rackings of suspense. It is thehell which Milton describes with such horrible accuracy; in its hotand cold regions, the anxious soul is alternately tossed from theardors of hope to the petrifying rigors of doubt and dread. Men whohave not been suspended between confidence and fear, in theirjudgment of a beloved friend's faithfulness, are ignorant of "thenerve whence agonies are born. " It is when sunk in sorrow, whenadversity loads us with divers miseries, and our wretchedness iscompleted by such desertion!--it is then we are compelled toacknowledge that, though life is brief, there are few friendshipswhich have strength to follow it to the end. But how precious arethose few! The are pearls above price!

Such were the reflections of the Count Sobieski when he arose in themorning from his sleepless pillow. The idea that the letter mighthave been delayed afforded him a faint hope, which he cherished allday, clinging to the expectation of seeing his friend before sunset. But Somerset did not appear; and obliged to seek an excuse for hisabsence, in the supposition of his application having miscarried, Thaddeus determined to write once more, and to deliver the letterhimself at his friend's door. Accordingly, with emotions differentfrom those with which he had addressed him a few days before, hewrote these lines--

"To PEMBROKE SOMERSET, ESQ. , "If he who once called Thaddeus Sobieski his friend has received aletter which that exile addressed to him on Friday last, this notewill meet the same neglect. But if this be the first intelligencethat tells Somerset his friend is in town, perhaps he may overlookthat friend's change of fortune; he may visit him in his distress!who will receive him with open arms, at his humble abode in St. Martin's Lane. 

"SUNDAY EVENING, No. 5, St. Martin's Lane. "

Thaddeus having sealed the letter, walked out in search of Sir RobertSomerset's habitation. After some inquiries, he found GrosvenorSquare; and amidst the darkness of the night, was guided to the houseby the light of the lamps and the lustres which shone through theopen windows. He hesitated a few minutes on the pavement, and lookedup. An old gentleman was standing with a little boy at the nearestwindow. Whilst the count's eyes were fixed on these two figures, hesaw Somerset himself come up to the child, and lead it away towards agroup of ladies. 

Thaddeus immediately flew to the door, with a tremor over his framewhich communicated itself to the knocker; for he knocked with suchviolence that the door was opened in an instant by half-a-dozenfootmen at once. He spoke to one. 

"Is Mr. Pembroke Somerset at home?"

"Yes, " replied the man, who saw by his plain dress that he could notbe an invited guest; "but he is engaged with company. "

"I do not want to see him now, " rejoined the count; "only give himthat letter, for it is of consequence. "

"Certainly, sir, " replied the servant; and Thaddeus instantlywithdrew. 

He now turned homeward, with his mind more than commonly depressed. There was a something in the whole affair which pierced him to thesoul. He had seen the house that contained the man he most warmlyloved, but he had not been admitted within it. He could not forbearrecollecting that when his gates opened wide as his heart to welcomePembroke Somerset, how he had been implored by his then gratefulfriend to bring the palatine and the countess to England, "where hisfather would be proud to entertain them, as the preservers of hisson. " How different from these professions did he find the reality!Instead of seeing the doors widely unclose to receive him, he wasallowed to stand like a beggar on the threshold; and he heard themshut against him, whilst the form of Somerset glided above him, evenas the shadow of his buried joys. 

These discomforting retrospections on the past, and painfulmeditations on the present, continued to occupy his mind, untilcrossing over from Piccadilly to Coventry Street, he perceived awretched-looking man, almost bent double, accosting a party of peoplein broken French, and imploring their charity. 

The voice and the accent being Sclavonian, arrested the ear ofThaddeus. Drawing close to the man, as the party proceeded withouttaking notice of the application, he hastily asked, "Are you aPolander?"

"Father of mercies!" cried the beggar, catching hold of his hand, "amI so blessed! have I at last met him?" and, bursting into tears, heleaned upon the arm of the count, who, hardly able to articulate withsurprise, exclaimed--

"Dear, worthy Butzou! What a time is this for you and I to meet! But, come, you must go home with me. "

"Willingly, my dear lord, " returned he; "for I have no home. I beggedmy way from Harwich to this town, and have already spent two dismalnights in the streets. "

"O, my country!" cried the full heart of Thaddeus. 

"Yes, " continued the poor old soldier; "it received its death woundswhen Kosciusko and my honored master fell. "

Thaddeus could not reply; but supporting the exhausted frame of hisfriend, who was hardly able to walk, after many pauses, gladlydescried his own door. 

The widow opened it the moment he knocked; and seeing some one withhim, was retreating, when Thaddeus, who found from the silence ofButzou that he was faint, begged her to allow him to take hiscompanion into her parlor. She instantly made way, and the countplaced the now insensible old man in the arm-chair by the fire. 

"He is my friend, my father's friend!" cried Thaddeus, looking at hispale and haggard face, with a strange wildness in his own features;"for heaven's sake give me something to restore him. "

Mrs. Robson, in dismay, and literally having nothing better in thehouse, gave him a glass of water. 

"That will not do, " exclaimed he, still upholding the motionless bodyon his arm; "have you no wine? No anything? He is dying for want. "

"None, sir; I have none, " answered she, frightened at the violence ofhis manner. "Run, Nanny, and borrow something warming of Mrs. Watts. "

"Or, " cried Thaddeus, "bring me a bottle of wine from the nearestinn. " As he spoke, he threw her the only half-guinea he possessed, and added, "Fly, for he may die in a moment. "

The child flew like lightning to the Golden Cross, and brought thewine just as Butzou had opened his eyes, and was gazing at Thaddeuswith a languid agony that penetrated his soul. Mrs. Robson held thewater to his lips. He swallowed a little, then feebly articulated, "Iam perishing for want of food. "

Thaddeus had caught the bottle from Nanny, and pouring some of itscontents into a glass, made him drink it. This draught revived him alittle. He raised himself in his seat; but still panting andspeechless, leaned his swimming head upon the bosom of his friend, who knelt by his side, whilst Mrs. Robson was preparing some toastedbread, with a little more heated wine, which was fortunately goodsherry. 

After much kind exertion between the good landlady and the count, they sufficiently recovered the poor invalid to enable them tosupport him up stairs to lie down on the bed. The drowsiness usuallyattendant on debility, aided by the fumes of the wine, threw him intoan immediate and deep sleep. 

Thaddeus seeing him at rest, thought it proper to rejoin Mrs. Robson, and by a partial history of his friend, acquaint her with theoccasion of the foregoing scene. He found the good woman surprisedand concerned, but no way displeased; and, in a few words, he gaveher a summary explanation of the precipitancy with which, without herpermission, he had introduced a stranger under her roof. 

The substance of what he said related that the person up stairs hadserved with him in the army; that on the ruin of his country (whichhe could no longer conceal was Poland), the venerable man had come inquest of him to England, and in his journey had sustained misfortuneswhich had reduced him to the state she saw. 

"I met him, " continued he, "forlorn and alone in the street; andwhilst he lives, I shall hold it my duty to protect him. I love himfor his own sake, and I honor him for my grandfather's. Besides, Mrs. Robson, " cried he, with additional energy, "before I left my country, I made a vow to my sovereign that wherever I should meet this braveold man, I would serve him to the last hour of his life. Therefore wemust part no more. Will you give him shelter?" added he, in a subduedvoice. "Will you allow me to retain him in my apartments?"

"Willingly, sir; but how can I accommodate him? he is already in yourbed, and I have not one to spare. "

"Leave that to me, best, kindest of women!" exclaimed the count;"your permission has rendered me happy. "

He then wished her a good night, and returning up stairs, wrappedhimself in his dressing-gown, and passed the night by the little fireof the sitting-room. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE VETERAN'S NARRATIVE. 

Owing to comfortable refreshment and a night of undisturbed sleep, General Butzou awoke in the morning much recovered from the weaknesswhich had subdued him the preceding day. 

Thaddeus observed this change with pleasure. Whilst he sat by hisbed, ministering to him with the care of a son, he dwelt with amelancholy delight on his revered features, and listened to hislanguid voice with those tender associations which are dear to theheart, though they pierce it with regretful anguish. 

"Tell me, my dear general, " said he, "for I can bear to hear it now--tell me what has befallen my unhappy country since I quitted it. "

"Every calamity, " cried the brave old man, shaking his head, "thattyranny could devise. "

"Well, go on, " returned the count, with a smile, which truly declaredthat the composure of his air was assumed; "we, who have beheld hersufferings, and yet live, need not fear hearing them described! Didyou see the king before he left Warsaw?"

"No, " replied Butzou; "our oppressors took care of that. Whilst you, my lord, were recovering from your wounds in the citadel, I set offfor Sachoryn, to join Prince Poniatowski. In my way thither I metsome soldiers, who informed me that his highness, having beencompelled to discharge his troops, was returning to support his royalbrother under the indignities which the haughtiness of the victormight premeditate. I then directed my steps towards Sendomir, where Ihoped to find Dombrowski, with still a few faithful followers; buthere, too, I was disappointed. Two days before my arrival, thatgeneral, according to orders, had disbanded his whole party. [Footnote:Dombrowski withdrew into France, where he was soon joined byothers of his countrymen; which little band, in process of time, by gradual accession of numbers, became what was afterwardsstyled the celebrated Polish legion, in the days of Napoleon; at thehead of which legion, the Prince Poniatowski, so often mentioned inthese pages, lost his life in the fatal frontier river his dauntlesscourage dared to swim. His remains were taken to Cracow, and buriednear to the tomb of John Sobieski. ] I now found that Poland wascompletely in the hands of her ravagers, and yet I prepared to returninto her bosom; my feet naturally took that course. But I wasagonized at every step I retrod. I beheld the shores of the Vistula, lined on every side with the allied troops. Ten thousand were postedon her banks, and eighteen thousand amongst the ruins of Praga andVillanow. 

"When I approached the walls of Warsaw, imagine, my dear lord, howgreat was my indignation! How barbarous the conduct of our enemies!Batteries of cannon were erected around the city, to level it withthe ground on the smallest murmur of discontent. 

"On the morning of my arrival, I was hastening to the palace to paymy duty to the king, when a Cossack officer intercepted me, whom Iformerly knew, and indeed kindly warned me that if I attempted topass, my obstinacy would be fatal to myself and hazardous to hismajesty, whose confinement and suffering were augmented in proportionto the adherents he retained amongst the Poles. Hearing this, I wasturning away, overwhelmed with grief, when the doors of the audiencechamber opened, and the Counts Potocki, Kilinski, and several othersof your grandfather's dearest friends, were led forth under a guard. I was standing motionless with surprise, when Potocki, perceiving me, held forth his hand. I took it, and wringing it, in the bitterness ofmy heart uttered some words which I cannot remember, but my Cossackfriend whispered me to beware how I again gave way to such dangerousremarks. 

"'Farewell, my worthy general' said Potocki, in a low voice, 'you seewe are arrested. We loved Poland too faithfully, for her enemies: andfor that reason we are to be sent prisoners to St. Petersburg. Sharing the fate of Kosciusko, our chains are our distinction; such acollar of merit is the most glorious order which the imperial sceptrecould bestow on a knight of St. Stanislaus. '

"'Sir, I cannot admit of this conversation, ' cried the officer of theguard; and commanding the escort to proceed, I lost sight of theseillustrious patriots, probably forever. [Footnote: The Potocki familyat that time had still large possessions in the Crimean country ofthe Cossacks; for it had formerly belonged to the crown of Poland. And hence a kind of kindred memory lingered amongst the people: notdisaffecting them from their new masters but allowing a naturalrespect for the descendants of the old. ]

"I understood, from the few Poles who remained in the citadel, thatthe good Stanislaus was to be sent on the same dismal errand ofcaptivity, to Grodno, the next day. They also told me that Polandbeing no more, you had torn yourself from its bleeding remains, rather than behold the triumphant entry of its conqueror. Thisinsulting pageant was performed on the 9th of November last. On the8th, I believe you left Warsaw for England. "

"Yes, " replied the count, who had listened with a breaking heart tothis distressing narrative; "and doubtless I saved myself muchmisery. "

"You did. One of the magistrates described to me the whole scene, atwhich I would not have been present for the world's empire! He toldme that when the morning arrived in which General Suwarrow, attendedby the confederated envoys, was to make his public _entrée_, nota citizen could be seen that was not compelled to appear. A deadsilence reigned in the streets; the doors and windows of every houseremained so closed that a stranger might have supposed it to be ageneral mourning; and it was the bitterest sight which could havefallen upon our souls! At this moment, when Warsaw, I may say, laydying at the feet of her conqueror, the foreign troops marched intothe city, the only spectators of their own horrible tragedy. Atlength, with eyes which could no longer weep, the magistrates, reluctant, and full of indignation, proceeded to meet the victor onthe bridge of Praga. When they came near the procession, theypresented the keys of Warsaw on their knees. "--

"On their knees!" interrupted Thaddeus, starting up, and the bloodflushing over his face. 

"Yes, " answered Butzou, "on their knees. "

"Almighty Justice!" exclaimed the count, pacing the room withemotion; "why did not the earth open and swallow them! Why did notthe blood which saturated the spot whereon they knelt cry out tothem? O Butzou, this humiliation of Poland is worse to me than allher miseries!"

"I felt as you feel, my lord, " continued the general, "and Iexpressed myself with the same resentment; but the magistrate whorelated to me that circumstance urged in excuse for himself and hisbrethren that such a form was necessary; and had they refused, probably their lives would have been forfeited. "

"Well, " inquired Thaddeus, resuming his seat, "but where was the kingduring this transaction?"

"In the castle, where he received orders to be present next day at apublic thanksgiving, at which the inhabitants of Warsaw were alsocommanded to attend, to perform a _Te Deum_, in gratitude forthe destruction of their country. Thank heaven! I was spared fromwitnessing this blasphemy; I was then at Sendomir. But the day afterI had heard of it, I saw the carriage which contained the goodStanislaus guarded like a traitor's out of the gates, and that veryhour I left the city. I made my way to Hamburgh, where I took apassage to Harwich. But when there, owing to excessive fatigue, oneof my old wounds broke out afresh; and continuing ill a week, Iexpended all my money. Reduced to my last shilling, and eager to findyou, I begged my way from that town to this. I had already spent twomiserable days and nights in the open air, with no other sustenancethan the casual charity of passengers, when Heaven sent you, myhonored Sobieski, to save me from perishing in the streets. "

Butzou pressed the hand of his young friend, as he concluded. Indignation still kept its station on the count's features. 

The poor expatriated wanderer observed it with satisfaction, wellpleased that this strong emotion at the supposed pusillanimity of hiscountrymen had prevented those bursts of grief which might have beenexpected from his sensitive nature, when informed that ruined Polandwas not only treated by its ravagers like a slave, but loaded withthe shackles and usage of a criminal. 

Towards evening, General Butzou fell asleep. Thaddeus, leaning backin his chair, fixed his eyes on the fire, and mused with amazementand sorrow on what had been told him. When it was almost dark, and hewas yet lost in reflection, Mrs. Robson gently opened the door andpresented a letter. "Here, sir, " said she, "is a letter which aservant has just left; he told me it required no answer. "

Thaddeus sprang from his seat at sight of the paper, and almostcatching it from her, his former gloomy cogitations dispersed beforethe hopes and fond emotions of friendship which now lit up in hisbosom. Mrs. Robson withdrew. He looked at the superscription--it wasthe handwriting of his friend. Tearing it asunder, two folded paperspresented themselves. He opened them, and they were his own letters, returned without a word. His beating heart was suddenly checked. Letting the papers fall from his hand, he dropped back on his seatand closed his eyes, as if he would shut them from the world and itsingratitude. 

Unable to recover from his astonishment, his thoughts whirled aboutin a succession of accusations, surmises and doubts, which seemed fora few minutes to drive him to distraction. 

"Was it really the hand of Somerset?"

Again he examined the envelope. It was; and the enclosures were hisown letters, without one word of apology for such incomprehensibleconduct. 

"Could he make one? No, " replied Thaddeus to himself. "Unhappy that Iam, to have been induced to apply twice to so despicable a man! Oh, Somerset, " cried he, looking at the papers as they lay before him;"was it necessary that insult should be added to unfaithfulness andingratitude, to throw me off entirely? Good heavens! did he thinkbecause I wrote twice, I would persecute him with applications? Ihave been told this of mankind; but, that I should find it in him?"

In this way, agitated and muttering, and walking up and down theroom, he spent another wakeful and cheerless night. 

When he went down stairs next morning, to beg Mrs. Robson to attendhis friend until his return, she mentioned how uneasy she was athaving heard him most of the preceding night moving above her head. He was trying to account to her for his restlessness, by complainingof a headache, but she interrupted him by saying, "O no, sir; I amsure it is the hard boards you lie on, to accommodate the poor oldgentleman. I am certain you will make yourself ill. "

Thaddeus thanked her for her solicitude; but declaring that all bedshard, or soft, were alike to him, he left her more reconciled to hispallet on the floor. And with his drawings in his pocket, once moretook the path to Great Newport Street. 

Resentment against his fickle friend, and anxiety for thetranquillity of General Butzou, whose age, infirmities and sufferingsthreatened a speedy termination of his life, determined the count tosacrifice all false delicacy and morbid feelings, and to hazardanother attempt at acquiring the means of affording those comforts tothe sick veteran which his condition demanded. Happen how it would, he resolved that Butzou should never know the complete wreck of hisproperty. I shuddered at loading him with the additional distress ofthinking he was a burden on his protector. 

Thaddeus passed the door of the printseller who had behaved so ill tohim on his first application; and walking to the farthest shop on thesame side, entered it. Laying his drawings on the counter, herequested the person who stood there to look at them. They wereimmediately opened; and the count, dreading a second repulse, or evenmore than similar insolence, hastily added--

"They are scenes in Germany. If you like to have them their price isa guinea. "

"Are you the painter, sir?" was the reply. 

"Yes, sir. Do they please you?"

"Yes, " answered the tradesman, (for it was the master, examining themnearer); "there is a breadth and freedom in the style which is novel, and may take. I will give you your demand;" and he laid the money onthe counter. 

Rejoiced that he had succeeded where he had entertained no hope, Thaddeus, with a bow, was leaving the shop, when the man called afterhim, "Stay, sir!"

He returned, prepared to now hear some disparaging remark. 

It is strange, but it is true, that those who have been thrust bymisfortune into a state beneath their birth and expectations, toooften consider themselves the objects of universal hostility. Theysee contempt in every eye, they suppose insult in every word; theslightest neglect is sufficient to set the sensitive pride of theunfortunate in a blaze; and, alas! how little is this sensibilityrespected by the rich and gay in their dealings with the unhappy! Towhat an addition of misery are the wretched exposed, meeting not onlythose contumelies which the prosperous are not backward to bestow, but those fancied ills which, however unfounded, keep the mind in afeverish struggle with itself, and an uttered warfare with thesurrounding world!

Repeated insults infused into the mind of Sobieski much of thisanticipating irritability; and it was with a very haughty step thathe turned back to hear what the printseller meant to say. 

"I only want to ask whether you follow this art as a profession?"

"Yes. "

"Then I shall be glad if you can furnish me with six such drawingsevery week. "

"Certainly, " replied Thaddeus, pleased with the probability thussecuring something towards the support of his friend. 

"Then bring me another half-dozen next Monday. "

Thaddeus promised, and with a relieved mind took his way homeward. 

Who is there in England, I repeat, who does not remember thedreadfully protracted winter of 1794, when the whole country layburied in a thick ice which seemed eternal? Over that ice, andthrough those snows, the venerable General Butzou had begged his wayfrom Harwich to London. He rested at night under the shelter of someshed or outhouse, and cooled his feverish thirst with a little watertaken from under the broken ice which locked up the springs. Theeffect of this was a painful rheumatism, which fixed itself in hislimbs, and soon rendered them nearly useless. 

Two or three weeks passed over the heads of the general and his youngprotector, Thaddeus cheering the old man with his smiles, and he, inreturn, imparting the only pleasure to him which his melancholy heartcould receive--the conviction that his attentions and affection wereproductive of comfort. 

In the exercise of these duties, the count not only found his healthgradually recover its tone, but his mind became more tranquil, andless prone to those sudden floods of regret which were rapidlysapping his life. By a strict economy on his part, he managed to paythe widow and support his friend out of the weekly profits of hisdrawings, which were now and then augmented by a commission to do oneor two more than the stipulated number. 

Thus, conversing with Butzou, reading to him when awake or pursuinghis drawings when he slept, Thaddeus spent the time until thebeginning of March. 

One fine starlight evening in that month, just before the frost brokeup, after painting all day, he desired little Nanny to take care ofthe general; and leaving his work at the printseller's, he thenproceeded through Piccadilly, intending to go as far as Hyde ParkCorner, and return. 

Pleased with the beauty of the night, he walked on, not remarkingthat he had passed the turnpike, until he heard a scream. The soundcame from near the Park wall. He hurried along, and at a shortdistance perceived a delicate-looking woman struggling with a man, who was assaulting her in a very offensive manner. 

Without a moment's hesitation, with one blow of his arm, Thaddeussent the fellow reeling against the wall. But while he supported theoutraged person who seemed fainting, the man recovered himself, andrushing on her champion, aimed a stroke at his head with an immensebludgeon, which the count, catching hold of as it descended, wrenchedout of his hand. The horrid oaths of the ruffian and the sobs of hisrescued victim collected a mob; and then the villain, fearing worseusage, made off and left Thaddeus to restore the terrified female athis leisure. 

As soon as she was able to speak, she thanked her deliverer in avoice and language that assured him it was no common person he hadbefriended. But in the circumstance of her distress, all would havebeen the same to him;--a helpless woman was insulted; and whateverher rank might be, he thought she had an equal claim on hisprotection. 

The mob dispersed; and finding the lady capable of walking, he beggedpermission to see her safe home. 

"I thank you, sir, " she replied, "and I accept your offer withgratitude. Besides, after your generous interference, it is requisitethat I should account to you how a woman of my appearance came out atthis hour without attendance. I have no other excuse to advance forsuch imprudence than that I have often done so with impunity. I havea friend whose husband, being in the Life-Guards, lives near thebarracks. We often drink tea with each other; sometimes my servantscome for me, and sometimes, when I am wearied and indisposed, I comeaway earlier and alone. This happened to-night; and I have to thankyour gallantry, sir, for my rescue from the first outrage of the kindwhich ever assailed me. "

By the time that a few more complimentary words on her side, and amodest reply from Thaddeus, had passed, they stopped before a housein Grosvenor Place. [Footnote: All this local scenery is changed. There is no turnpike gate now at the Hyde Park end of Piccadilly;neither is there a park wall. Splendid railings occupy its place; andtwo superb triumphal arches, in the fashion of France, one leadinginto the Park and the other leading towards Buckingham Palace, gorgeously fill the sites of the former plain, wayfaring, Englishturnpike-lodges. --1845. ] The lady knocked at the door; and as soon asit was opened, the count was taking his leave, but she laid her handon his arm, and said, in a voice of sincere invitation:

"No, sir; I must not lose the opportunity of convincing you that youhave not succored a person unworthy of your kindness. I entreat youto walk in!"

Thaddeus was too much pleased with her manner not to accept thiscourtesy. He followed her up stairs into a drawing-room, where ayoung lady was seated at work. 

"Miss Egerton, " cried his conductress, "here is a gentleman who hasthis moment saved me from a ruffian. You must assist me to express mygratitude. "

"I would with all my heart, " returned she; "but your ladyship confersbenefits so well, you cannot be at a loss how to receive them. "

Thaddeus took the chair which a servant set for him, and, withmingled pleasure and admiration, turned his eyes on the lovely womanhe had rescued. She had thrown off her cloak and veil, and displayeda figure and countenance full of dignity and interest. 

She begged him to lay aside his great-coat, for she must insist uponhis supping with her. There was a commanding softness in her manner, and a gentle yet unappealable decision in her voice, he could notwithstand; and he prepared to obey, although he was aware the fashionand richness of the military dress concealed under his coat wouldgive her ideas of his situation he could not answer. 

The lady did not notice his hesitation, but, ringing the bell, desired the servant to take the gentleman's hat and coat. Thaddeusinstantly saw in the looks of both the ladies what he feared. 

"I perceive, " said the elder, as she took her seat, "that mydeliverer is in the army: yet I do not recollect having seen thatuniform before. "

"I am not an Englishman, " returned he. 

"Not an Englishman, " exclaimed Miss Egerton, "and speak the languageso accurately! You cannot be French?"

"No, madam; I had the honor of serving under the King of Poland. "

"Then his was a very gallant court, I suppose, " rejoined MissEgerton, with a smile; "for I am sorry to say there are few about St. James's who would have taken the trouble to do what you have done byLady Tinemouth. "

He returned the young lady's smile. "I have seen too little, madam, of Englishmen of rank to show any gallantry in defending this part ofmy sex against so fair an accuser. " Indeed, he recollected theofficers in the Park, and the perfidy of Somerset, and thought he hadno reason to give them more respect than their countrywomenmanifested. 

"Come, come, Sophia, " cried Lady Tinemouth; "though no woman has lesscause to speak well of mankind than I have. I will not permit mycountrymen to be run down _in toto_. I dare say this gentlemanwill agree with me that it shows neither a candid nor a patrioticspirit. " Her ladyship uttered this little rebuke smilingly. 

"I dare say he will not agree with you, Lady Tinemouth. No gentlemanyet, who had his wits about him, ever agreed with an elder ladyagainst a younger. Now, Mr. Gentleman!--for it seems the name bywhich we are to address you, --what do you say? Am I so veryreprobate?"

Thaddeus almost laughed at the singular way she had chosen to ask hisname; and allowing some of the gloom which generally obscured hisfine eyes to disperse, he answered with a smile--

"My name is Constantine. "

"Well, you have replied to my last question first; but I will not letyou off about my sometimes bearish countrymen. I do assure you, therace of the Raleighs, with their footstep cloaks, is quite _hors decombat_; and so don't you think, Mr. Constantine, I may call themso, without any breach of good manners to them or duty to my country?For you see her ladyship hangs much upon a spinster's patriotism?"

Lady Tinemouth shook her head. 

"O, Sophia, Sophia, you are a strange mad-cap. "

"I don't care for that; I will have Mr. Constantine's unprejudicedreply. I am sure, if he had taken as long a time in answering yourcall as he does mine, the ruffian might have killed and eaten you toobefore he moved to your assistance. Come, may I not say they areanything but well-bred men?"

"Certainly. A fair lady may say anything. "

"Positively, Mr. Constantine, I won't endure contempt! Say suchanother word, and I will call you as abominable a creature as theworst of them. "

"But I am not a proper judge, Miss Egerton. I have never been incompany with any of these men; so, to be impartial, I must suspend myopinion. "

"And not believe my word!"

Thaddeus smiled and bowed. 

"There, Lady Tinemouth, " cried she, affecting pet, "take yourchampion to yourself; he is no _preux chevalier_ for me?"

"Thank you, Sophia, " returned her ladyship, giving her hand to thecount to lead her to the supper-room. "This is the way she skirmisheswith all your sex, until her shrewd humor transforms them to its ownlikeness. "

"And where is the man, " observed Thaddeus, "who would not be sometamorphosed under the spells of such a Circe?"

"It won't do, Mr. Constantine, " cried she, taking her place oppositeto him: "my anger is not to be appeased by calling me names; youdon't mend the compliment by likening me to a heathen and a witch. "

Lady Tinemouth bore her part in the conversation in a strain more inunison with the count's mind. However, he found no inconsiderabledegree of amusement from the unreflecting volubility and giddysallies of her friend; and, on the whole, spent the two hours hepassed there with some perceptions of his almost forgotten sense ofpleasure. 

He was in an elegant apartment, in the company of two lovely andaccomplished women, and he was the object of their entire attentionand gratitude. He had been used to this in his days of happiness, when he was "the expectancy and rose of the fair state, the glass offashion and the mould of form, --the observed of all observers!" andthe re-appearance of such a scene awakened, with tender remembrances, an associating sensibility which made him rise with regret when theclock struck eleven. 

Lady Tinemouth bade him good-night, with an earnest request that hewould shortly repeat his visit; and they parted, mutually pleasedwith each other. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

FRIENDSHIP A STAFF IN HUMAN LIFE. 

Pleased as the count was with the acquaintance to which his gallantryhad introduced him, he did not repeat his visit for a long time. 

A few mornings after his meeting with Lady Tinemouth, the hard frostbroke up. The change in the atmosphere produced so alarming a relapseof the general's rheumatic fever, that his friend watched by hispillow ten days and nights. At the end of this period he recoveredsufficiently to sit up and read or to amuse himself by registeringthe melancholy events of the last campaigns in a large book, andillustrating it with plans of the battles. The sight of this volumewould have distressed Thaddeus, had he not seen that it affordedcomfort to the poor veteran, whom it transported back into the sceneson which he delighted to dwell; yet he would often lay down his pen, shut the book, and weep like an infant. 

The count left him one morning at his employment, and strolled out, with the intention of calling on Lady Tinemouth. As he walked alongby Burlington House, he perceived Pembroke Somerset, with an elderlygentleman, of a very distinguished air, leaning on his arm. Theyapproached him from Bond Street. 

All the blood in the count's body seemed rushing to his heart. Hetrembled. The ingenuous smile on his friend's countenance, and hisfeatures so sweetly marked with frankness, made his resolutionfalter. 

"But proofs, " cried he to himself, "are absolute!" and turning hisface to a stand of books that was near him, he stood there untilSomerset had passed. He went past him, speaking these words--

"I trust, father, that ingratitude is not his vice. "

"But it is yours, Somerset!" murmured Thaddeus, while for a moment hegazed after them, and then proceeded on his walk. 

When his name was announced at Lady Tinemouth's, he found her withanother lady, but not Miss Egerton. Lady Tinemouth expressed herpleasure at this visit, and her surprise that it had been so longdeferred. 

"The pain of such an apparent neglect of your ladyship's goodness, "replied he, "has been added to my anxiety for the declining health ofa friend, whose increased illness is my apology, "

"I wish, " returned her ladyship, her eyes beaming approbation, "thatall my friends could excuse their absence so well!"

"Perhaps they might if they chose, " observed the other lady, "andwith equal sincerity. "

Thaddeus understood the incredulity couched under these words. So didLady Tinemouth, who, however, rejoined, "Be satisfied, Mr. Constantine, that I believe you. "

The count bowed. 

"Fie, Lady Tinemouth!" cried the lady; "you are partial: nay, you areabsurd; did you ever yet hear a man speak truth to a woman?"

"Lady Sara!" replied her ladyship, with one of those arch glanceswhich seldom visited her eyes, "where will be your vanity if I assentto this?"

"In the moon, with man's sincerity. "

Thaddeus paid little attention to this dialogue. His thoughts, inspite of himself, were wandering after the figures of Somerset andhis father. 

Lady Tinemouth, whose fancy had not been quiet about him since hisprompt humanity had introduced him to her acquaintance, observed hispresent absence without noticing it. Indeed, the fruitful imaginationof Sophia Egerton had not lain still. She declared, "he was a soldierby his dress, a man of rank from his manners, an Apollo in hisperson, and a hero from his gallantry!"

Thus had Miss Egerton described him to Lady Sara Ross; "and, " addedshe, "what convinces me he is a man of fashion, he has not beenwithin these walls since we told him we should take it as a favor. "

Lady Sara was eager to see this handsome stranger; and havingdetermined to drop in at Lady Tinemouth's every morning until hercuriosity was gratified, she was not a little pleased when she heardhis name announced. 

Lady Sara was married; but she was young and of great beauty, and sheliked that its power should be acknowledged by others besides herhusband. The instant she beheld the Count Sobieski, she formed thewish to entangle him in her flowery chains. She learnt, by his palecountenance and thoughtful air, that he was a melancholy character;and above all things, she sighed for such a lover. She expected toreceive from one of his cast a rare tenderness and devotedness; inshort, a fervent and romantic passion!--the fashion of the day eversince the extravagant French romances, such as Delphine and the like, came in; and this unknown foreigner appeared to her to be the verycreature of whom her fancy had been in search. His abstraction, hisvoice and eyes, the one so touching and the other so neglectful ofanything but the ground, were irresistible, and she resolved fromthat moment (in her own words) "to make a set at him. "

Not less pleased with this second view of her acquaintance than shehad been at the first, Lady Tinemouth directed her discourse to him, accompanied by all that winning interest so endearing to an ingenuousheart. Lady Sara never augured well to the success of herfascinations when the countess addressed any of her victims; andtherefore she now tried every means in her power to draw aside theattention of the count. She played with her ladyship's dog; but thatnot succeeding, she determined to strike him at once with the fullgraces of her figure. Complaining of heat, she threw off her largegreen velvet mantle, and rising from her chair, walked towards thewindow. 

When she looked round to enjoy her victory, she saw that thismanoeuvre had failed like the rest, for the provoking countess wasstill standing between her and Thaddeus. Almost angry, she flung openthe sash, and putting her head out of the window, exclaimed, in herbest-modulated tones:

"How d'ye do?"

"I hope your ladyship is well this fine morning!" was answered in thevoice of Pembroke Somerset. 

Thaddeus grew pale, and the countess feeling the cold, turned aboutto ask Lady Sara to whom she was speaking. 

"To a pest of mine, " returned she gayly; and then, stretching out herneck, resumed: "but where, in the name of wonder, Mr. Somerset, areyou driving with all that travelling apparatus?"

"To Deerhurst: I am going to take Lord Avon down. But I keep you inthe cold. Good-morning!"

"My compliments to Sir Robert. Good-by! good-by!" waving her whitehand until his curricle vanished from sight; and when she turnedround, her desires were gratified, for the elegant stranger wasstanding with his eyes fixed on that hand. But had she known that, for any cognizance they took of its beauty, they might as well havebeen fixed on vacancy, she would not have pulled down the window, andreseated herself with such an air of triumph. 

The count took his seat with a sigh, and Lady Tinemouth did the same. 

"So that is the son of Sir Robert Somerset?"

"Yes, " replied Lady Sara; "and what does your ladyship think of him?He is called very handsome. "

"You forget that I am near-sighted, " answered the countess; "I couldnot discriminate his features, but I think his figure fine. Iremember his father was a singularly-admired man, and celebrated fortaste and talents. "

"That may be, " resumed Lady Sara, laughing, and anxious to excitesome emotion of rivalry in the breast of Thaddeus. "I am sure I oughtnot to call in question his talents and taste, for he has oftenwished that fate had reserved me for his son. " She sighed while shespoke, and looked down. 

This sigh and gesture had more effect upon her victim than all herexhibited personal charms. So difficult is it to break the cords ofaffection and habit. Anything relating to Pembroke Somerset could yetso powerfully interest the desolate yet generous Sobieski, as tostamp itself on his features. Besides, the appearance of any latentdisquietude, where all seemed splendor and vivacity, painfullyreminded him of the checkered lot of man. His eyes were resting uponher ladyship, full of a tender commiseration, pregnant withcompassion for her, himself, and all the world, when she raised herhead. The meeting of such a look from him filled her with agitation. She felt something strange at her heart. His eyes seemed to havepenetrated to its inmost devices. Blushing like scarlet, she got upto hide an embarrassment not to be subdued; and hastily wishing thecountess a good-morning curtseyed to him and left the room. 

Her ladyship entered her carriage with feelings all in commotion. Shecould not account for the confusion which his look had occasioned;and half angry at a weakness so like a raw, inexperienced girl, shedetermined to become one of Lady Tinemouth's constant visitors, untilshe should have brought him (as she had done most of the men in hercircle) to her feet. 

These were her ladyship's resolutions, while she rolled along towardsSt. James's Place. But she a little exceeded the fact in thestatement of her conquests; for notwithstanding she could havecounted as many lovers as most women, yet few of them would haveventured the folly of a kneeling petition. In spite of her formerunwedded charms, these worthy lords and gentlemen had, to a man, adopted the oracle of the poet--

 "Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies. "

 They all professed to adore Lady Sara; some were caught by herbeauty, others by her _eclat_, but none had the most distantwish to make this beauty and _eclat_ his own legal property. Forshe had no other property to bestow. 

The young Marquis of Severn seemed serious towards her ladyshipduring the first year of his appearance at court; but at the end ofthat time, instead of offering her his hand, he married the daughterof a rich banker. 

Lady Sara was so incensed at this disappointment, that, to show herdisdain of her apostate lover, she set off next day for Gretna Green, with Horace Ross, a young and early celebrated commander in the navy, whose honest heart had been some time sueing to her in vain. He wasalso nephew to the Earl of Wintown. They were married, and herladyship had the triumph of being presented as a bride the same daywith the Marchioness of Severn. 

When the whirlwind of her resentment subsided, she began mostdismally to repent her union. She loved Captain Ross as little as shehad loved Lord Severn. She had admired the rank and fashion of theone, and the profound adoration of the other had made a friend of hervanity. But now that her revenge was gratified, and the homage of ahusband ceased to excite the envy of her companions, she grew wearyof his attentions, and was rejoiced when the Admiralty ordered him totake the command of a frigate bound to the Mediterranean. 

The last fervent kiss which he imprinted on her lips, as she breathedout the cold "Good-by, Ross; take care of yourself!" seemed to herthe seal of freedom; and she returned into her dressing-room, not toweep, but to exult in the prospect of a thousand festivities and athousand captives at her feet. 

Left at an early age without a mother, and ignorant of the duties ofa wife, she thought that if she kept her husband and herself out ofDoctor's Commons, she should do no harm by amusing herself with theheart of every man who came in her way. Thus she hardly moved withouta train of admirers. She had already attracted everyone she deemedworthy of the trouble, and listened to their compliments, andinsolent presumptions, until she was wearied of both. In thisjuncture of _ennui_, Miss Egerton related to her the countess'srecontre with the gallant foreigner. 

As soon as she heard he was of rank, (for Miss Egerton was notbackward to affirm the dreams of her own imagination, ) she formed awish to see him; and when, to her infinite satisfaction, he didpresent himself, in her eyes he exceeded everything that had beendescribed. To secure such a conquest, she thought, would not onlyraise the envy of the women, but put the men on the alert to discoversome novel and attractive way of proving their devotion. 

Whilst Lady Sara was meditating on her new conquest, the count andLady Tinemouth remained in their _tete-à-tete_. Her ladyshiptalked to him on various subjects; but he answered ill upon them all, and sometimes very wide of the matter. At last, conscious that hemust be burdensome, he arose, and, looking paler and more depressedthan when he entered, wished her a good morning. 

"I am afraid, Mr. Constantine, you are unwell. "

Like most people who desire to hide what is passing in their minds, Thaddeus gladly assented to this, as an excuse for a taciturnity hecould not overcome. 

"Then, " cried her ladyship, "I hope you will let me know where tosend to inquire after your health. "

Thaddeus was confounded for a moment; then, returning into the room, he took up a pen, which lay on the table, and said, "I will write my address to a place where any of your ladyship'scommands may reach me; but I will do myself the honor to repeat mycall very soon. "

"I shall always be happy to see you, " replied the countess, while hewas writing; "but before I engage you in a promise of which you mayafterwards repent, I must tell you that you will meet with dullentertainment at my house. I see very little company; and were it notfor the inexhaustible spirits of Miss Egerton, I believe I shouldbecome a complete misanthrope. "

"Your house will be my paradise!" exclaimed the count, with anexpressiveness to the force of which he did not immediately attend. 

Lady Tinemouth smiled. 

"I must warn you here, too, " cried she. "Miss Egerton must not be thedeity of your paradise. She is already under engagements. "

Thaddeus blushed at being mistaken, and wished to explain himself. 

"You misunderstand me, madam. I am not insensible to beauty; but uponmy word, at that moment I had nothing else in my thoughts thangratitude for your ladyship's kindness to an absolute stranger. "

"That is true, Mr. Constantine: you are an absolute stranger, if thewant of a formal introduction and an ignorance of your familyconstitute that title. But your protection introduced you to me; andthere is something in your appearance which convinces me that I neednot be afraid of admitting you into the very scanty number of myfriends. "

Thaddeus perceived the delicacy of Lady Tinemouth, who wished to knowwho he was, and yet was unwilling to give him pain by a question sodirect that he must answer it. As she now proposed it, she left himentirely to his own discretion; and he determined to satisfy her veryproper curiosity, as far as he could without exposing his real nameand circumstances. 

The countess, whose benevolent heart was deeply interested in hisfavor, observed the changes of his countenance with an anxious hopethat he would be ingenuous. Her solicitude did not arise from anydoubts of his quality and worth, but she wished to be enabled toreply with promptness to the inquisitive people who might see him ather house. 

"I hardly know, " said Thaddeus, "in what words to express my sense ofyour ladyship's generous confidence in me; and that my character isnot undeserving of such distinction, time, I trust, will prove. " Hepaused for a moment, and then resumed: "For my rank, Lady Tinemouth, it is now of little consequence to my comfort; rather, perhaps, asource of mortification; for--" he hesitated, and then proceeded, with a faint color tinging his cheek: "exiles from their country, ifthey would not covet misery, must learn to forget; hence I am noother than Mr. Constantine; though, in acknowledgment of yourladyship's goodness, I deem it only just that I should not conceal myreal quality from you. 

"My family was one of the first in Poland. Even in banishment, theremembrance that its virtues were as well known as its name, affordssome alleviation to the conviction that when my country fell, all myproperty and all my kindred were involved in the ruin. Soon after thedreadful sealing of its fate, I quitted it, and by the command of adying parent, who expired in my arms, sought a refuge in this islandfrom degradations which otherwise I could neither repel nor avoid. "

Thaddeus stopped; and the countess, struck by the graceful modestywith which this simple account was related, laid her hand upon his. 

"Mr. Constantine, I am not surprised at what you have said. Themelancholy of your air induced me to suspect that you were not happy, and my sole wish in penetrating your reserve was to show you that awoman can be a sincere friend. "

Tears of gratitude glistened in the count's eyes. Incapable of makinga suitable reply, he pressed her hand to his lips. She rose; andwilling to relieve a sensibility that delighted her, added, "I willnot detain you longer: only let me see you soon. "

Thaddeus uttered a few inarticulate words, whose significancyconveyed nothing, but all he felt was declared in their confusion. The countess's eloquent smile showed that she comprehended theirmeaning; and he left the room. 

CHAPTER XX. 

WOMAN'S KINDNESS. 

On the count's return home, he found General Butzou in betterspirits, still poring over his journal. This book seemed to be therepresentative of all which had ever been dear to him. He dwelt uponit and talked about it with a doating eagerness bordering oninsanity. 

These symptoms, increasing from day to day, gave his young friendconsiderable uneasiness. He listened with pain to the fond dreamswhich took possession of the poor old man, who delighted in sayingthat much might yet be done in Poland when he should be recovered, and they be enabled to return together to Warsaw, and stimulate thepeople to resume their rights. 

Thaddeus at first attempted to prove the emptiness of these schemes;but seeing that contradiction on this head threw the general intodeeper despondency, he thought it better to affect the samesentiments, too well perceiving that death would soon terminate thesevisions with the venerable dreamer's life. 

Accordingly, as far as lay in the count's power, he satisfied all thefancied wants of his revered friend, who on every other subject wasperfectly reasonable; but at last he became so absorbed in thischimerical plot, that other conversation, or his meals, seemed tooppress him with restraint. 

When Thaddeus perceived that his company was rather irksome than acomfort to his friend, he the more readily repeated his visits toLady Tinemouth. She now looked for his appearance at least once aday. If ever a morning and an evening passed away without hisappearance, he was sure of being scolded by Miss Egerton, reproachedby the countess, and frowned at by Lady Sara Ross. In defiance of allother engagements, this lady contrived to drop in every night at LadyTinemouth's. Her ladyship was not more surprised at this suddenattachment of Lady Sara to her house than pleased with her society. She found she could lay aside in her little circle that tissue ofaffectation and fashion which she wore in public, and really became acharming woman. 

Though Lady Sara was vain, she was mistress of sufficient sense topenetrate with tolerable certainty into the characters of heracquaintance. Most of the young men with whom she had hithertoassociated having lived from youth to manhood amongst thosefashionable assemblies where individuality is absorbed in the generalmass of insipidity, she saw they were frivolous, though obsequious toher, or, at the best, warped in taste, if not in principle; and thefascinations she called forth to subdue them were suited to theirobjects--her beauty, her thoughtless, or her caprice. But, on thereverse, when she formed the wish to entangle such a man as Thaddeus, she soon discovered that to engage his attention she must appear inthe unaffected graces of nature. To this end she took pains todisplay the loveliness of her form in every movement and position;yet she managed the action with so inartificial and frank an air, that she seemed the only person present who was unconscious of theversatility and power of her charms. She conversed with good senseand propriety. In short, she appeared completely different from thegay, ridiculous creature he had seen some weeks before in thecountess's drawing-room. 

He now admired both her person and her mind. Her winning softness, the vivacity of Miss Egerton, and the kindness of the countess, beguiled him many an evening from the contemplation of melancholyscenes at his humble and anxious home. 

One night it came into the head of Sophia Egerton to banter him abouthis military dress. "Do, for heaven's sake, my dear Don Quixote, "cried she, "let us see you out of your rusty armor! I declare I growfrightened at it. And I cannot but think you would be merrier out ofthat customary suit of solemn black!"

This demand was not pleasing to Thaddeus, but he good-humoredlyreplied, "I knew not till you were so kind as to inform me that aman's temper depends on his clothes. "

"Else, I suppose, " cried she, interrupting him, "you would havechanged yours before? Therefore, I expect you will do as I bid younow, and put on a Christian's coat against you next enter thishouse. "

Thaddeus was at a loss what to say; he only bowed; and the countessand Lady Sara smiled at her nonsense. 

When they parted for the night, this part of the conversation passedoff from all minds but that of Lady Tinemouth. She had considered thesubject, but in a different way from her gay companion. Sophiasupposed that the handsome Constantine wore the dress of his countrybecause it was the most becoming. But as such a whim did notcorrespond with the other parts of his character, Lady Tinemouth. Inher own mind, attributed this adherence to his national habit to theright cause. 

She remarked that whenever she wished him to meet any agreeablepeople at her house, he always declined these introductions under theplea of his dress, though he never proposed to alter it. Thisconduct, added to his silence on every subject which related to thepublic amusements about town, led her to conclude, that, like thebanished nobility of France he was encountering the variousinconveniences of poverty in a foreign land. She hoped that he hadescaped its horrors; but she could not be certain, for he alwaysshifted the conversation when it too closely referred to himself. 

These observations haunted the mind of Lady Tinemouth, and made heranxious to contrive some opportunity in which she might have thisinteresting Constantine alone, and by a proper management of thediscourse, lead to some avowal of his real situation. Hitherto herbenevolent intentions had been frustrated by various interruptions atvarious times. Indeed, had she been actuated by mere curiosity, shewould long ago have resigned the attempt as fruitless; but pity andesteem kept her watchful until the very hour in which her considerateheart was fully satisfied. 

One morning, when she was writing in her cabinet, a servant informedher that Mr. Constantine was below. Pleased at this circumstance, shetook advantage of a slight cold that affected her; and hoping to drawsomething out of him in the course of a _tete-à-tete_, begged hewould favor her by coming into her private room. 

When he entered, she perceived that he looked more pensive thanusual. He sat down by her, and expressed his concern at herindisposition. She sighed heavily, but remained silent. Her thoughtswere too much occupied with her kind plan to immediately form areply. She had determined to give him a cursory idea of her ownunhappiness, and thus, by her confidence, attract him. 

"I hope Miss Egerton is well?" inquired he. 

"Very well, Mr. Constantine. A heart at ease almost ever keeps thebody in health. May she long continue as happy as at this period, andnever know the disappointments of her friend!"

He looked at the countess. 

"It is true, my dear sir, " continued she. "It is hardly probable thatthe mere effect of thirty-seven years could have made the inroads onmy person which you see; but sorrow has done it; and with all thecomforts you behold around me, I am miserable. I have no joyindependent of the few friends which Heaven has preserved to me; andyet, " added she, "I have another anxiety united with those of which Icomplain; some of my friends, who afford me the consolation Imention, deny me the only return in my power, the office of sharingtheir griefs. "

Thaddeus understood the expression of her ladyship's eye and thetenderness of her voice as she uttered these words. He saw to whomthe kind reproach was directed, and he looked down confused andoppressed. 

The countess resumed. 

"I cannot deny what your countenance declares; you think I mean you. I do, Mr. Constantine. I have marked your melancholy; I have weighedother circumstances; and I am sure that you have many things tostruggle with besides the regrets which must ever hang about thebosom of a brave man who has witnessed the destruction of hiscountry. Forgive me, if I give you pain, " added she, observing hisheightening color. "I speak from real esteem; I speak to you as Iwould to my own son were he in your situation. "

"My dearest madam!" cried Thaddeus, overcome by her benevolence, "youhave judged rightly; I have many things to struggle with. I have asick friend at home, whom misfortune hath nearly bereft of reason, and whose wants are now so complicated and expensive, that never tillnow did I know the complete desolation of a man without a country ora profession. For myself, Lady Tinemouth, adversity has few pangs;but for my friend, for an old man whose deranged faculties haveforgotten the change in my affairs, he who leans on me for supportand comfort, --it is this that must account to your ladyship for thoseinconsistencies in my manner and spirits which are so frequently thesubject of Miss Egerton's raillery. "

Thaddeus, in the course of this short and rapid narrative, graduallylowered the tone of his voice, and at the close covered his face withhis hand. He had never before confided the history of hisembarrassments to any creature; and he thought (notwithstanding thecountess's solicitations) he had committed an outrage on the firmnessof his character by having in anyway acknowledged the weight of hiscalamities. 

Lady Tinemouth considered a few minutes, and then addressed him. 

"I should ill repay this generous confidence, my noble young friend, were I to hesitate a moment in forming some plan which may prove ofservice to you. You have told me no more, Mr. Constantine, than Isuspected. And I had something in view. " Here the countess stopped, expecting that her auditor would interrupt her. He remained silent, and she proceeded: "You spoke of a profession, of an employment. "

"Yes, madam, " returned he, taking his hands from his eyes; "I shouldbe glad to engage in any profession or employment you wouldrecommend. "

"I have little interest, " answered her ladyship, "with people inpower; therefore I cannot propose anything which will in any degreesuit with your rank; but the employment that I have in view, severalof the most illustrious French nobility have not disdained toexecute. "

"Do not fear to mention it to me, " cried the count, perceiving herreluctance; "I would attempt anything that is not dishonorable, torender service to my poor friend. "

"Well, then, would you have any objection to teach languages?"

Thaddeus immediately answered, "Oh, no! I should be happy to do so. "

"Then, " replied she, greatly relieved by the manner in which hereceived her proposal, "I will now tell you that about a week ago Ipaid a visit to Lady Dundas, the widow of Sir Hector Dundas, the richEast Indian director. Whilst I was there, I heard her talking withher two daughters about finding a proper master to teach them German. That language has become a very fashionable accomplishment amongstliterary ladies; and Misa Dundas, being a member of the Blue-stockingClub, [Footnote: Such was the real name given at the time to Mrs. Montague's celebrated literary parties, held at her house in PortmanSquare. The late venerable Sir William Pepys was one of their lastsurvivors. ] had declared her resolution to make a new translation ofWerter. Lady Dundas expressed many objections against the vulgarityof various teachers whom the young ladies proposed, and ended withsaying that unless some German gentleman could be found, they mustremain ignorant of the language. Your image instantly shot across mymind; and deeming it a favorable opportunity, I told her ladyshipthat if she could wait a few days, I would sound a friend of mine, who I knew, if he would condescend to take the trouble, must be themost eligible person imaginable. Lady Dundas and the girls gladlyleft the affair to me, and I now propose it to you. "

"And I, " replied he, "with a thousand thanks, accept the task. "

"Then I will make the usual arrangements, " returned her ladyship, "and send you the result. "

After half an hour's further conversation, Lady Tinemouth became moreimpressed with the unsophisticated delicacy and dignity of thecount's mind; and he, more grateful than utterance could declare, left his respects for Miss Egerton, and took his leave. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

FASHIONABLE SKETCHES FROM THE LIFE. 

Next morning, whilst Thaddeus was vainly explaining to the generalthat he no longer possessed a regiment of horse, which the poor oldman wanted him to order out, to try the success of some manoeuvres hehad been devising, little Nanny brought in a letter from Slaughter'sCoffee-house, where he had noted Lady Tinemouth to direct it tohim. [Footnote: This respectable hotel still exists, near the top ofSt. Martin's Lane. --1845. ] He opened it, and found these contents:--

"My dear Sir, "So anxious was I to terminate the affair with Lady Dundas, that Iwent to her house last night. I affirmed it as a great obligationthat you would undertake the trouble to teach her daughters; and Iinsist that you do not, from any romantic ideas of candor, invalidatewhat I have said. I know the world too well not to be convinced ofthe truth of Dr. Goldsmith's maxim, --'If you be poor, do not seempoor, if you would avoid insult as well as suffering. '

"I told Miss Dundas that you had undertaken the task solely at mypersuasion, and that I could not propose other terms than a guineafor two lessons. She is rich enough for any expense, and made noobjection to my demand; besides, she presented the enclosed, by wayof entrance-money. It is customary. Thus I have settled allpreliminaries, and you are to commence your first lesson on Monday, at two o'clock. But before then, pray let me see you. 

"Cannot you dine with us on Sunday? A sabbath privilege! to speak ofgood is blameless. I have informed Miss Egerton of as much of theaffair as I think necessary to account for your new occupation. Inshort, gay in spirits as she is, I thought it most prudent to say aslittle to her and to Lady Sara as I have done to the Dundases;therefore, do not be uneasy on that head. 

"Come to-morrow, if not before, and you will give real pleasure toyour sincere friend, "ADELIZA TINEMOUTH. " "SATURDAY MORNING, GROSVENOR PLACE. "

Truly grateful to the active friendship of the countess, and lookingat the general, who appeared perfectly happy in the prosecution ofhis wild schemes, Thaddeus inwardly exclaimed, "By these means Ishall at least have it in my power to procure the assistance whichyour melancholy state, my revered friend, requires. "

On opening the enclosed, which her ladyship mentioned, he found it tobe a bank note for ten pounds. Both the present and its amount gavehim pain: not having done any service yet to the donor, he regardedthe money more as a gift than as a bond of engagement. However, hefound that this delicacy, with many other painful repugnances, mustat this moment be laid aside; and, without further self-torment, heconsigned the money to the use for which he felt aware the countesshad wished it to be applied, namely, to provide himself with anEnglish dress. 

During these various reflections, he did not leave Lady Tinemouth'sletter unanswered. He thanked her sincerely for her zeal, butdeclined dining with her the next day, on account of leaving his poorfriend so long alone; though he promised to come in the evening whenhe should be retired to rest. 

This excuse was regretted by none more than Lady Sara Ross, who, having heard from Lady Tinemouth that she expected Mr. Constantine todinner on a Sunday, invited herself to be one of the party. She hadnow seen him constantly for nearly a month, and found, to heramazement, that in seeking to beguile him, she had only ensnaredherself. Every word he uttered penetrated to her heart; every glanceof his eyes shook her frame like electricity. 

She had now no necessity to affect softness. A young and unsuspectedpassion had stolen into her bosom, and imparted to her voice andcountenance all its subtle power to enchant and to subdue. Thaddeuswas not insensible to this gentle fascination; for it appeared to hisingenuous nature to be unconsciously shown, and from under "veiledlids. " He looked on her as indeed a lovely woman, who, with atouching delicacy, he observed, often tried to stifle sigh aftersigh, which, fluttering rose to her silent lips. Thus, as silentlyremarking her, he became deeply interested in her; for he believedher yearning heart then thought of her gallant husband, far, far atsea. So had been his conclusion when he first noticed thesedemonstrations of an inward unuttered sensibility. But in a littlewhile afterwards, when those veiled lids were occasionally raised, and met his compassionate gaze, she mistook the nature of itsexpression; and her responsive glance, wild with ecstasy, returnedhim one that darted astonishment, with an appalling dread of hismeaning, through his every vein. But on his pillow the same night, when he reflected on what he had felt on receiving so strange a lookfrom a married woman, and one, too, whom he believed to be a virtuousone! he could not, he would not, suppose it meant anything to him;and ashamed of even the idea having entered his head, he crushed itat once, indignant at himself. Though, whenever he subsequently mether at Lady Tinemouth's, he could not help, as if by a naturalimpulse, avoiding the encountering of her eyes. 

In the course of conversation at dinner, on the day Thaddeus had beenexpected by Lady Tinemouth, in a tone of pleasure she mentioned thatshe had conferred a great favor on her young cousins, the MissesDundas, by having prevailed on Mr. Constantine to undertake thetrouble of teaching them German. Lady Sara could not conceal hervexation, nor her wonder at Lady Tinemouth's thinking of such athing; and she uttered something like angry contempt at acquiescence, while inwardly she hated her former old friend for having made theproposal. 

Miss Egerton laughed at the scrape into which Lady Tinemouth hadbrought his good nature, and declared she would tell him next timeshe saw him what a mulish pair of misses he had presumed to manage. 

It was the youngest of these misses that excited Lady Sara'sdispleasure. Euphemia Dundas was very pretty; she had a large fortuneat her disposal; and what might not such united temptations effect onthe mind of a man exposed every day to her habitual flirtation? Stungwith jealousy, Lady Sara caught at a slight intimation of hispossibly coming in before the evening should close. Rallying hersmiles, she resolved to make one more essay on his relapsedinsensibility, before she beheld him enter scenes so likely toextinguish her hopes. Hopes of what? She never allowed herself toinquire. She knew that she never had loved her husband, that now shedetested him, and was devoted to another. To be assured of areciprocal passion from that other, she believed was the extent ofher wish. Thinking that she held her husband's honor safe as herlife, she determined to do what she pleased with her heart. Herformer admirers were now neglected; and, to the astonishment andadmiration of the graver part of her acquaintance, she had latelyrelinquished all the assemblies in which she had so recently been thebrightest attraction, to seclude herself by the domestic fireside ofthe Countess of Tinemouth. 

Thus, whilst the world were admiring a conduct they supposed wouldgive a lasting happiness to herself and to her husband, she wascherishing a passion which might prove the destruction of both. 

On Sunday evening, Thaddeus entered Lady Tinemouth's drawing-roomjust as Miss Egerton seated herself before the tea equipage. At sightof him she nodded her head, and called him to sit by her. LadyTinemouth returned the grateful pressure of his hand. Lady Sarareceived him with a palpitating heart, and stooped to removesomething that seemed to incommode her foot; but it was only a feint, to hide the blushes which were burning on her cheek. No one observedher confusion. So common is it for those who are the constantwitnesses of our actions to be the most ignorant of their expressionand tendency. 

Thaddeus could not, in spite of himself, be so uninformed, and hegladly obeyed a second summons from the gay Sophia, and drew hischair close to hers. 

Lady Sara observed his motions with a pang she could not conceal; andpulling her seat as far from the opposite side as possible, began insilence to sip her tea. 

"Ye powers of gallantry!" suddenly exclaimed Miss Egerton, pushingaway the table, and lifting her eye-glass to her eye, "I declare Ihave conquered! Look, Lady Tinemouth; look, Lady Sara! If Mr. Constantine does not better become this English dress than his Polishhorribles did him, drown me for a witch!"

"You see I have obeyed you, madam, " returned Thaddeus smiling. 

"Ah! you are in the right. Most men do that cheerfully, when theyknow they gain by the bargain. Now, you look like a Christian man;before, you always reminded me of some stalking hero in a tragedy. "

"Yes, " cried Lady Sara, forcing a smile; "and now you have given hima striking resemblance to George Barnwell!"

Sophia, who did not perceive the sarcasm couched under this remark, good-humoredly replied:

"May be so, Lady Sara; but I don't care for his black suit: obediencewas the thing I wanted, and I have it in the present appearance. "

"Pray, Lady Tinemouth, " asked her ladyship, seeking to revengeherself on his alacrity to obey Miss Egerton, "what o'clock is it? Ihave promised to be at Lady Sarum's concert by ten. "

"It is not nine, " returned the countess; "besides, this is the firsttime I have heard of your engagement. I hoped you would have spentall the evening with us. "

"No, " answered Lady Sara, "I cannot. " And ringing the bell, she rose. 

"Bless me, Lady Sara!" cried Miss Egerton, "you are not going? Don'tyou hear that it is little more than eight o'clock?"

Busying herself in tying her cloak, Lady Sara affected not to hearher, and told the servant who opened the door to order her carriage. 

Surprised at this precipitation, but far from guessing the cause, Lady Tinemouth requested Mr. Constantine to see her ladyship downstairs. 

"I would rather not, " cried she, in a quick voice; and darting out ofthe room, was followed by Thaddeus, who came up with her just as shereached the street door. He hastened to assist her into the carriage, and saw by the light of the flambeaux her face streaming with tears. He had already extended his hand, when, instead of accepting it, shepushed it from her, and jumped into the carriage, crying in anindignant tone, "To Berkeley Square. " He remained for a few minuteslooking after her; then returned into the house, too well able totranslate the meaning of all this petulance. 

When he reascended the stairs, Lady Tinemouth expressed her wonder atthe whimsical departure of her friend; but as Thaddeus (who wasreally disturbed) returned a vague reply, the subject ended. 

Miss Egerton, who hardly thought two minutes on the same thing, sentaway the tea-board, and, sitting down by him, exclaimed, --

"Mr. Constantine, I hold it right that no man should be thrown into aden of wild creatures without knowing what sort of animals he mustmeet there. Hence, as I find you have undertaken the taming of that_ursa major_ Lady Dundas, and her pretty cubs, I must give you ataste of their quality. Will you hear me?"

"Certainly. "

"Will you attend to my advice?"

"If I like it. "

"Ha!" replied she, returning his smile with another; "that is justsuch an answer as I would have made myself, so I won't quarrel withyou. Lady Tinemouth, you will allow me to draw your kinsfolks'pictures?"

"Yes, Sophia, provided you don't make them caricatures. Remember, your candor is at stake; to-morrow Mr. Constantine will judge forhimself. "

"And I am sure he will agree with me. Now, Lady Dundas, if youplease! I know your ladyship is a great stickler for precedence. "

Lady Tinemouth laughed, and interrupted her--

"I declare, Sophia, you are a very daring girl. What do you not riskby giving way to this satirical spirit?"

"Not anybody's love that I value, Lady Tinemouth: _you_ knowthat I never daub a fair character; Mr. Constantine takes me on yourcredit; and if you mean Charles Montresor, he is as bad as myself, and dare not for his life have any qualms. "

"Well, well, proceed, " cried her ladyship; "I will not interrupt youagain. "

"Then, " resumed she, "I must begin with Lady Dundas. In properhistorical style, I shall commence with her birth, parentage, andeducation. For the first, my father remembers her when she was_damoiselle a'honneur_ to Judge Sefton's lady at Surat, and soonafter her arrival there, this pretty Abigail by some means captivatedold Hector Dundas, (then governor of the province, ) who married her. When she returned in triumph to England, she coaxed her foolishhusband to appropriate some of his rupee riches to the purchase of abaronetage. I suppose the appellation _Mistress_ put her in mindof her ci-devant abigailship; and in a fond hour he complied, and shebecame _My Lady_. That over, Sir Hector had nothing moreobliging to do in this world but to clear her way to perhaps acoronet. He was so good as to think so himself: and, to add to formerobligations, had the civility to walk out of it; for one night, whether he had been dreaming of his feats in India, or of a review ofhis grand entry into his governorship palace, I cannot affirm, but hemarched out of his bed room window and broke his neck. Ever sincethat untoward event, Lady Dundas has exhibited the finest parties intown. Everybody goes to see her, but whether in compliment to theirown taste or to her silver muslins, I don't know; for there are halfa dozen titled ladies of her acquaintance who, to my certainknowledge, have not bought a ball-dress this twelvemonth. Well, howdo you like Lady Dundas?"

"I do not like your sketch, " replied Thaddeus, with an unconscioussigh. 

"Come, don't sigh about my veracity, " interrupted Miss Egerton; "I doassure you I should have been more correct had I been more severe;for her Indian ladyship is as ill-natured as she is ill-bred, and isas presumptuous as ignorant; in short she is a fit mamma for thedelectable Miss Dundas, whose description you shall have in twoquestions. Can you imagine Socrates in his wife's petticoats? Can youimagine a pedant, a scold, and a coquette in one woman? If you can, you have a foretaste of Diana Dundas. She is large and ugly, andthinks herself delicate and handsome; she is self-willed andarrogant, and believes herself wise and learned; and, to sum up all, she is the most malicious creature breathing. "

"My dear Sophia, " cried Lady Tinemouth, alarmed at the effect suchhigh coloring might have on the mind of Thaddeus; "for heaven's sakebe temperate! I never heard you so unbecomingly harsh in my life. "

Miss Egerton peeped archly in her face. 

"Are you serious, Lady Tinemouth? You know that I would not lookunbecoming in your eyes. Besides, she is no real relation of yours. Come, shake hands with me, and I will be more merciful to the gentleEuphemia, for I intend that Mr. Constantine shall be her favorite. Won't you?" cried she, resigning her ladyship's hand. Thaddeus shookhis head. "I don't understand your Lord Burleigh nods; answer me inwords, when I have finished: for I am sure you will delight in thezephyr smiles of so sweet a fairy. She is so tiny and so pretty, thatI never see her without thinking of some gay little trinket, all overprecious stones. Her eyes are two diamond sparks, melted into lustre;and her teeth, seed pearl, lying between rubies. So much for thecasket; but for the quality of the jewel within, I leave you to makethe discovery. "

Miss Egerton having run herself out of breath, suddenly stopped. Seeing that he was called upon to say something, Thaddeus made ananswer which only drew upon him a new volley of raillery. LadyTinemouth tried to avert it, but she failed; and Sophia continuedtalking with little interruption until the party separated for thenight. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

HONORABLE RESOURCES OF AN EXILE. 

Now that the count thought himself secure of the means of payment, hesent for a physician, to consult him respecting the state of thegeneral. When Dr. Cavendish saw and conversed with the venerableButzou, he gave it as his opinion that his malady was chiefly on thenerves, and had originated in grief. 

"I can too well suppose it, " replied Thaddeus. 

"Then, " rejoined the physician, "I fear, sir, that unless I knowsomething of its cause, my visits will prove almost useless. "

The count was silent. The doctor resumed--

"I shall be grieved if his sorrows be of too delicate a nature to betrusted with a man of honor; for in these cases, unless we have someknowledge of the springs of the derangement, we lose time, andperhaps entirely fail of a cure. Our discipline is addressed both tothe body and the mind of the patient. "

Thaddeus perceived the necessity of compliance, and did so withoutfurther hesitation. 

"The calamities, sir, which have occasioned the disorder of my friendneed not be a secret: too many have shared them with him; his sorrowshave been public ones. You must have learnt by his language, Dr. Cavendish, that he is a foreigner and a soldier. He held the rank ofgeneral in the King of Poland's service. Since the period in whichhis country fell, his wandering senses have approximated to what yousee. "

Dr. Cavendish paused for a moment before he answered the count; thenfixing his eyes on the veteran, who was sitting at the other end ofthe room, constructing the model of a fortified town, he said--

"All that we can do at present, sir, is to permit him to follow hisschemes without contradiction, meanwhile strengthening his systemwith proper medicines, and lulling its irritation by gentle opiates. We must proceed cautiously, and I trust in Heaven that success willcrown us at last. I will order something to be taken every night. "

When the doctor had written his prescription, and was preparing togo, Thaddeus offered him his fee; but the good Cavendish, taking thehand that presented it, and closing it on the guinea, "No, my dearsir" said he; "real patriotism is too much the idol of my heart toallow me to receive payment when I behold her face. Suffer me, Mr. Constantine, to visit you and your brave companion as a friend, or Inever come again. "

"Sir, this generous conduct to strangers--"

"Generous to myself, Mr. Constantine, and not to strangers; I cannotconsider you as such, for men who devote themselves to their countrymust find a brother in every honest breast. I will not hear of ourmeeting on any other terms. " [Footnote: This generous man is nofictitious character, the original being Dr. Blackburne, late ofCavendish Square; but who, since the above was written, has longretired from his profession, passing a revered old age in thebeautiful neighborhood of our old British classic scenes, the Abbeyof Glastonbury. ]

Thaddeus could not immediately form a reply adequate to the sentimentwhich the generous philanthropy of the doctor awakened. Whilst hestood incapable of speaking, Cavendish, with one glance of hispenetrating eye, deciphered his countenance, and giving him afriendly shake by the hand, disappeared. 

The count took up his hat; and musing all the way he went on theunexpected scenes we meet in life, --disappointment where we expectedkindness, and friendship where no hope could arise, --he arrived atthe door of Lady Dundas, in Harley Street. 

He was instantly let in, and with much ceremony ushered into asplendid library, where he was told the ladies would attend him. Before they entered, they allowed him time to examine its costlyfurniture, its glittering book-cases, bird-cages, globes, andreading-stands, all shining with burnished gilding; its polishedplaster casts of the nine muses, which stood in nine recesses aboutthe room, draperied with blue net, looped up with artificial roses;and its fine cut-steel Grecian stove, on each side of which wasplaced, on sandal-wood pedestals, two five-feet statues of Apollo andMinerva. 

Thaddeus had twice walked round these fopperies of learning, when thedoor opened, and Lady Dundas, dressed in a morning wrapper of Indianshawls, waddled into the apartment. She neither bowed nor curtseyedto the count, who was standing when she entered, but looking at himfrom head to foot, said as she passed, "So you are come;" and ringingthe bell, called to the servant in no very soft tones, "Tell MissDundas the person Lady Tinemouth spoke of is here. " Her ladyship thensat down in one of the little gilded chairs, leaving Thaddeus stillstanding on the spot where he had bowed to her entrance. 

"You may sit down, " cried she, stirring the fire, and not deigning tolook at him; "for my daughter may not choose to come this half-hour. "

"I prefer standing, " replied the count, who could have laughed at theaccuracy of Miss Egerton's picture, had he not prognosticated moredisagreeableness to himself from the ill manners of which this was aspecimen. 

Lady Dundas took no further notice of him. Turning from her bloatedcountenance, (which pride as well as high living had swollen fromprettiness to deformity, ) he walked to a window and stationed himselfthere, looking into the street, until the door was again opened, andtwo ladies made their appearance. 

"Miss Dundas, " cried her ladyship, "here is the young man that is toteach you German. "

Thaddeus bowed; the younger of the ladies curtseyed; and so did theother, not forgetting to accompany such condescension with a toss ofthe head, that the effect of undue humility might be done away. 

Whilst a servant was setting chairs round a table, on which waspainted the Judgment of Hercules, Lady Dundas again opened her lips. 

"Pray, Mr. Thingumbob, have you brought any grammars, and primers, and dictionaries, and syntaxes with you?"

Before he had time to reply in the negative, Miss Dundas interruptedher mother. 

"I wish, madam, you would leave the arrangement of my studies tomyself. Does your ladyship think we would learn out of any book whichhad been touched by other people? Thomas, " cried she to a servant, "send Stephens hither. "

Thaddeus silently contemplated this strange mother and daughter, whilst the pretty Euphemia paid the same compliment to him. Duringhis stay, he ventured to look once only at her sylph-like figure. There was an unreceding something in her liquid blue eyes, when hechanced to meet them, which displeased him; and he could not helpseeing that from the instant she entered the room she had seldomceased staring in his face. 

He was a little relieved by the maid putting the books on the table. Miss Dundas, taking her seat, desired him to sit down by her andarrange the lessons. Lady Dundas was drawing to the other side ofThaddeus, when Euphemia, suddenly whisking round, pushed before hermother, and exclaimed--

"Dear mamma! you don't want to learn!" and squeezed herself upon theedge of her mother's chair, who, very angrily getting up, declaredthat rudeness to a parent was intolerable from such well-bred youngwomen, and left the room. 

Euphemia blushed at the reproof more than at her conduct; and MissDundas added to her confusion by giving her a second reprimand. Thaddeus pitied the evident embarrassment of the little beauty, andto relieve her, presented the page in the German grammar with whichthey were to begin. This had the desired effect; and for an hour anda half they prosecuted their studies with close attention. 

Whilst the count continued his directions to her sister, and thenturned his address to herself, Miss Euphemia, wholly unseen by him, with a bent head was affecting to hear him though at the same timeshe looked obliquely through her thick flaxen ringlets, and gazingwith wonder and admiration on his face as it inclined towards her, said to herself, "If this man were a gentleman, I should think himthe most charming creature in the world. "

"Will your task be too long, madam?" inquired Thaddeus; "will it giveyou any inconvenience to remember?"

"To remember what?" asked she, for in truth she had neither seen whathe had been pointing at nor heard what he had been saying. 

"The lesson madam, I have just been proposing. "

"Show it to me again, and then I shall be a better judge. "

He did as he was desired, and was taking his leave, when she calledafter him:

"Pray, Mr. Constantine, come to-morrow at two. I want youparticularly. "

The count bowed and withdrew. 

"And what do you want with him to-morrow, child?" asked Miss Dundas;"you are not accustomed to be so fond of improvement. "

Euphemia knew very well what she was accustomed to be fond of; butnot choosing to let her austere sister into her predilection for thecontemplation of superior beauty, she merely answered, "You know, Diana, you often reproach me for my absurd devotion to novel-reading, and my repugnance to graver books; now I want at once to be like you, a woman of great erudition: and for that purpose I will study day andnight at the German, till I can read all the philosophers, and be afit companion for my sister. "

This speech from Euphemia (who had always been so declared an enemyto pedantry as to affirm that she learnt German merely because it wasthe fashion) would have awakened Miss Dundas to some suspicion of acovert design, had she not been in the habit of taking down suchlarge draughts of adulation, that whenever herself was the subject, she gave it full confidence. Euphemia seldom administered these dosesbut to serve particular views; and seeing in the present case that alittle flattery was necessary, she felt no compunction in sacrificingsincerity to the gratification of caprice. Weak in understanding, shehad fed on works of imagination, until her mind loathed all kinds offood. Not content with devouring the elegant pages of Mackenzie, Radcliffe, and Lee, she flew with voracious appetite to sate herselfon the garbage of any circulating library that fell in her way. 

The effects of such a taste were exhibited in her manners. Being verypretty, she became very sentimental. She dressed like a wood nymph, and talked as if her soul were made of love and sorrow. Neither ofthese emotions had she ever really felt; but in idea she was alwaysthe victim of some ill-fated passion, fancying herself at differentperiods in love with one or other of the finest young men in hercircle. 

By this management she kept faithful to her favorite principle that"love was a want of her soul!" As it was the rule of her life, itever trembled on her tongue, ever introduced the confession of anynew attachment, which usually happened three times a year, to herdear friend Miss Arabella Rothes. Fortunately for the longevity oftheir mutual friendship, this young lady lived in an ancient house, forty miles to the north of London. This latter circumstance proved apretty distress for their pens to descant on; and Arabella remained amost charming sentimental writing-stock, to receive the catalogue ofMiss Euphemia's lovers; indeed, that gentle creature might havematched every lady in Cowley's calendar with a gentleman. But everythrob of her heart must have acknowledged a different master. First, the fashionable sloven, Augustus Somers, lounged and saunteredhimself into her good graces; but his dishevelled hair, and otherwiseneglected toilette, not exactly meeting her ideas of an elegantlover, she gave him up at the end of three weeks. The next object hereyes fell upon, as most opposite to her former fancy, was thecharming Marquis of Inverary. But here all her arrows failed, for shenever could extract from him more than a "how d'ye do?" through thelong lapse of four months, during which time she continued asconstant to his fine figure, and her own folly, as could have fallento the lot of any poor despairing damsel. However, my lord was socruel, so perfidious, as to allow several opportunities to pass inwhich he might have declared his passion; and she told Arabella, in aletter of six sheets, that she would bear it no longer. 

She put this wise resolution in practice, and had already played thesame game with half a score, (the last of whom was a young guardsman, who had just ridden into her heart by managing his steed with the airof a "feathered Mercury, " one day in Hyde Park, ) when Thaddeus madehis appearance before her. 

The moment she fixed her eyes on him, her inflammable imagination wasset in a blaze. She forgot his apparent subordinate quality in thenobleness of his figure; and once or twice that evening, while shewas flitting about, the sparkling cynosure of the Duchess of Orkney'smasquerade, her thoughts hovered over the handsome foreigner. 

She viewed the subject first one way and then another, and, in herever varying mind, "he was everything by turns, and nothing long;"but at length she argued herself into a belief that he must be a manof rank from some of the German courts, who having seen her somewhereunknown to herself, had fallen in love with her, and so had persuadedLady Tinemouth to introduce him as a master of languages to herfamily that he might the better appreciate the disinterestedness ofher disposition. 

This wild notion having once got into her head, received instantcredence. She resolved, without seeming to suspect it, to treat himas his quality deserved, and to deliver sentiments in his hearingwhich should charm him with their delicacy and generosity. 

With these chimeras floating in her brain, she returned home, went tobed, and dreamed that Mr. Constantine had turned out to be the _Ducd'Enghien_, had offered her his hand, and that she was conductedto the altar by a train of princes and princesses, his brothers andsisters. 

She woke the next morning from these deliriums in an ecstasy, deemingthem prophetic; and, taking up her book, began with a flutteringattention to scan the lesson which Thaddeus had desired her to learn. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

 "What are these words? These seeming flowers? Maids to call them, 'Love in idleness. '"

The following day at noon, as the Count Sobieski was crossingCavendish Square to keep his appointment in Harley Street, he was metby Lady Sara Ross. She had spoken with the Misses Dundas the nightbefore, at the masquerade, where discovering the pretty Euphemiathrough the dress of Eloisa, her jealous and incensed heart could notwithstand the temptation of hinting at the captivating Abelard shehad selected to direct her studies. Her ladyship soon penetrated intothe situation of Euphemia's heated fancy, and drew from her, withoutbetraying herself, that she expected to see her master the followingday. Stung to the soul, Lady Sara quitted the rooms, and in aparoxysm of disappointment, determined to throw herself in his way ashe went to her rival's house. 

With this hope, she had already been traversing the square upwards ofhalf an hour, attended by her maid, when her anxious eye at lastcaught a view of his figure proceeding along Margaret Street. Hardlyable to support her tottering frame, shaken as it was with contendingemotions, she accosted him first: for he was passing straight onward, without looking to the right or the left. On seeing her ladyship, hestopped, and expressed his pleasure at the meeting. 

"If you _really_ are pleased to meet me, " said she, forcing asmile, "take a walk with me round the square. I want to speak withyou. "

Thaddeus bowed, and she put her arm through his, but remained silentfor a few minutes, in evident confusion. The count recollected itmust now be quite two. He knew the awkwardness of making the MissesDundas wait; and notwithstanding his reluctance to appear impatientwith Lady Sara, he found himself obliged to say--

"I am sorry I must urge your ladyship to honor me with your commands, for it is already past the time when I ought to have been with theMisses Dundas. "

"Yes, " cried Lady Sara, angrily, "Miss Euphemia told me as much; but, Mr. Constantine, as a friend, I must warn you against her acts, aswell as against those of another lady, who would do well to correctthe boldness of her manner. "

"Whom do you mean, madam?" interrogated Thaddeus, surprised at herwarmth, and totally at a loss to conjecture to whom she alluded. 

"A little reflection would answer you, " returned she, wishing toretreat from an explanation, yet stimulated by her double jealousy toproceed: "she may be a good girl, Mr. Constantine, and I dare say sheis; but a woman who has promised her hand to another ought not toflirt with you. What business had Miss Egerton to command you to wearan English dress. But she must now see the danger of her conduct, byyour having presumed to obey her. "

"Lady Sara!" exclaimed the count, much hurt at this speech, "I hardlyunderstand you; yet I believe I may venture to affirm that in allwhich you have just now said, you are mistaken. Who can witness thegeneral frankness of Miss Egerton, or listen to the candid mannerwith which she avows her attachment to Mr. Montresor, and conceivethat she possesses any thoughts which would not do her honor toreveal? And for myself, " added he, lowering the tone of his voice, "Itrust the least of my faults is presumption. It never was mycharacter to presume on any lady's condescension; and if dressing asshe approved be deemed an instance of that kind, I can declare, uponmy word, had I not found other motives besides her raillery, myappearance should not have suffered a change. "

"Are you sincere, Mr. Constantine?" cried Lady Sara, now smiling withpleasure. 

"Indeed I am, and happy if my explanation have met with yourladyship's approbation. "

"Mr. Constantine, " resumed she, "I have no motive but one in mydiscourse with you, --friendship. " And casting her eyes down, shesighed profoundly. 

"Your ladyship does me honor. "

"I would have you to regard me with the same confidence that you doLady Tinemouth. My father possesses the first patronage in thiscountry, I therefore have it a thousand times more in my power thanshe has to render you a service. "

Here her ladyship overshot herself; she had not calculated well onthe nature of the mind she wished to ensnare. 

"I am grateful to your generosity, " replied Thaddeus, "but on thishead I must decline your kind offices. Whilst I consider myself thesubject of one king, though he be in a prison, I cannot accept of anyemployment under another who is in alliance with his enemies. "

Lady Sara discovered her error the moment he had made his answer;and, in a disappointed tone, exclaimed, "Then you despise myfriendship!"

"No, Lady Sara; it is an honor far beyond my merits; and anygratitude to Lady Tinemouth must be doubled when I recollect that Ipossess such honor through her means. "

"Well, " cried her ladyship, "have that as you will; but I expect, asa specimen of your confidence in me, you will be wary of EuphemiaDundas. I know she is artful and vain; she finds amusement inattracting the affections of men; and then, notwithstanding heraffected sensibility, she turns them into a subject for laughter. "

"I thank your ladyship, " replied the count; "but in this respect Ithink I am safe, both from the lady and myself. "

"How, " asked Lady Sara, rather too eagerly, "is your heart?"--Shepaused and looked down. 

"No, madam!" replied he, sighing as deeply as herself: but with histhoughts far from her and the object of their discourse; "I have noplace in my heart to give to love. Besides, the quality in which Iappear at Lady Dundas's would preclude the vainest man alive fromsupposing that such notice from any lady there to him could bepossible. Therefore, I am safe, though I acknowledge my obligation toyour ladyship's caution. "

Lady Sara was satisfied with the first part of this answer. Itdeclared that his heart was unoccupied; and, as he had accepted herproffered friendship, she doubted not, when assisted by more frequentdisplays of her fascinations, she could destroy its lambent nature, and in the end light up in his bosom a similar fire to that whichconsumed her own. 

The unconscious object of all these devices began internally toaccuse his vanity of having been too fanciful in the formation ofsuspicions which on a former occasion he had believed himself forcedto admit. Blushing at a quickness of perception his contrition nowdenominated folly, he found himself at the bottom of Harley Street. 

Lady Sara called her servant to walk nearer to her; and tellingThaddeus she should expect him the next evening at Lady Tinemouth's, wished him good-morning. 

He was certain that he must have stayed at least half an hour beyondthe time when he ought to be with the sisters. Anticipating veryhaughty looks, and perhaps a reprimand, he knocked at the door, andwas again shown into the library. Miss Euphemia was alone. 

He offered some indistinct excuse for having made her wait; butEuphemia, with good-humored alacrity, interrupted him. 

"O pray, don't mind; you have made nobody wait but me, and I caneasily forgive it; for mamma and my sister chose to go out at one, itbeing May-day, to see the chimney-sweepers dine at Mrs. Montague's. [Footnote: This was a gay spectacle, and a most kind actto these poor children, who thus once a-year found themselvesrefreshed and happy. They resorted to the green court-yard of Mrs. Montague's house every May-day, about one o'clock, dressed in theirgala wreaths, and sporting with their brushes and shovels, where theyfound a good dinner, kind words from their hostess and her guests, and each little sweep received a shilling at parting. On the death ofMrs. Montague, this humane and pleasurable spectacle ceased. ] Theydid as they liked, and I preferred staying at home to repeat mylesson. "

Thaddeus, thanking her for her indulgence, sat down, and taking thebook, began to question her. Not one word could she recollect. Shesmiled. 

"I am afraid, madam, you have never thought of it since yesterdaymorning. "

"Indeed, I have thought of nothing else: you must forgive me. I amvery stupid, Mr. Constantine, at learning languages; and German is soharsh--at least to my ears! Cannot you teach me any other thing? Ishould like to learn of you of all things, but do think of somethingelse besides this odious jargon! Cannot you teach me to read poetryelegantly?--Shakspeare, for instance; I doat upon Shakspeare!"

"That would be strange presumption in a foreigner?"

"No presumption in the least, " cried she; "if you can do it, praybegin! There is Romeo and Juliet. "

Thaddeus pushed away the book with a smile. 

"I cannot obey. I understand Shakspeare with as much ease as you, madam, will soon do Schiller, if you apply; but I cannot pretend toread the play aloud. "

"Dear me, how vexatious!--but I must hear you read something. Do, take up that Werter. My sister got it from the Prussian ambassador, and he tells me it is sweetest in its own language. "

The count opened the book. 

"But you will not understand a word of it. "

"I don't care for that; I have it by heart in English; and if youwill only read his last letter to Charlotte, I know I can follow youin my own mind. "

To please this whimsical little creature, Thaddeus turned to theletter, and read it forward with a pathos natural to his voice andcharacter. When he came to an end and closed the volume, the cadenceof his tones, and the lady's memory, did ample justice to hersensibility. She looked up, and smiling through her watery eyes, which glittered like violets wet with dew, drew out her perfumedhandkerchief, and wiping them, said--

"I thank you, Mr. Constantine. You see by this irrepressible emotionthat I feel Goethe, and did not ask you a vain favor. "

Thaddeus bowed, for he was at a loss to guess what kind of a replycould be expected by so strange a creature. 

She continued--

"You are a German, Mr. Constantine. Did you ever see Charlotte?"

"Never, madam. "

"I am sorry for that; I should have liked to have heard what sort ofa beauty she was. But don't you think she behaved cruelly to Werter?Perhaps you knew him?"

"No, madam; this lamentable story happened before I was born. "

"How unhappy for him! I am sure you would have made the most charmingfriends in the world! Have you a friend, Mr. Constantine. "

The count looked at her with surprise. She laughed at the expressionof his countenance. 

"I don't mean such friends as one's father, mother, sisters andrelations: most people have enough of them. I mean a tender, confiding friend, to whom you unbosom all your secrets: who is yourother self--a second soul! In short, a creature in whose existenceyou forget your own!"

Thaddeus followed with his eyes the heightened color of the fairenthusiast, who, accompanying her rhapsody with action expressive asher words, had to repeat her question, "Have you such a friend?"before he found recollection to answer her in the negative. 

The count, who had never been used to such extravagant behavior in awoman, would have regarded Miss Euphemia Dundas as little better thaninsane had he not been prepared by Miss Egerton's description; and henow acquiesced in the young lady's desire to detain him another hour, half amused and half wearied with her aimless and wild fancies. Buthere he was mistaken. Her fancies were not aimless; his heart was thegame she had in view, and she determined a desperate attack shouldmake it her own, in return for the deep wounds she had received fromevery tone of his voice, whilst reading the Sorrows of Werter. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

LADY TINEMOUTH'S BOUDOIR. 

Thaddeus spent nearly a fortnight in the constant exercise of hisoccupations. In the forepart of each day, until two, he preparedthose drawings by the sale of which he was empowered every week topay the good Mrs. Robson for her care of his friend. And he hoped, when the ladies in Harley Street should think it time to defray anypart of their now large debt to him, he might be enabled to liquidatethe very long bill of his friend's apothecary. But the Misses Dundaspossessed too much money to think of its utility; they used it ascounters; for they had no conception that to other people it might bethe purchaser of almost every comfort. Their comforts came socertainly, they supposed they grew of necessity out of theirsituation, and their great wealth owned no other commission than togive splendid parties and buy fine things. Their golden shower beingexhaled by the same vanity by which it had been shed, they as littleregarded its dispersion as they had marked its descent. 

Hence, these amiable ladies never once recollected that their masterought to receive some weightier remuneration for his visits than thehonor of paying them; and as poets say the highest honors areachieved by suffering, so these two sisters, though in differentways, seemed resolved that Thaddeus should purchase his distinctionwith adequate pains. 

Notwithstanding that Miss Dundas continued very remiss in herlessons, she unrelentingly required the count's attendance, andsometimes, not in the most gentle language, reproached him for abackwardness in learning she owed entirely to her own inattention andstupidity. The fair Diana would have been the most erudite woman inthe world could she have found any fine-lady path to the temple ofscience; but the goddess who presides there being only to be won byarduous climbing, poor Miss Dundas, like the indolent monarch whomade the same demand of the philosophers, was obliged to lay thefault of her own slippery feet on the weakness of her conductors. 

As Thaddeus despised her most heartily, he bore ill-humor from thatquarter with unshaken equanimity. But the pretty Euphemia was not soeasily managed. She had now completely given up her fanciful soul tothis prince in disguise, and already began to act a thousandextravagances. Without suspecting the object, Diana soon discoveredthat her sister was in one of her love fits. Indeed she cared nothingabout it; and leaving her to pursue the passion as she liked, poorEuphemia, according to her custom when laboring under this whimsicalmalady, addicted herself to solitude. This romantic taste shegenerally indulged by taking her footman to the gate of the green inCavendish Square, where he stood until she had performed a pensivesaunter up and down the walk. After this she returned home, adjustedher hair in the Madonna fashion, (because Thaddeus had one dayadmired the female head in a Holy Family, by Guido, over the chimney-piece, ) and then seating herself in some becoming attitude, usuallywaited, with her eyes constantly turning to the door, until theobject of these devices presented himself. She impatiently watchedall his motions and looks whilst he attended to her sister; and themoment that was done, she ran over her own lessons with greatvolubility, but little attention. Her task finished, she shut thebooks, and employed the remainder of the time in translating a numberof little mottoes into German, which she had composed for boxes, baskets, and other frippery. 

One day, when her young teacher was, as usual, tired almost beyondendurance with making common sense out of so much nonsense, Euphemiaobserved that Diana had removed to the other end of the room with theHonorable Mr. Lascelles. To give an _éclat_ to her new studies, Miss Dundas had lately opened her library door to morning visitors;and seeing her sister thus engaged, Euphemia thought she might dowhat she wished without detection. Hastily drawing a folded paperfrom her pocket, she desired Thaddeus to take it home, and translateit into the language he liked best. 

Surprised at her manner, he held it in his hand. 

"Put it in your pocket, " added she, in a hurrying voice, "else mysister may see it, and ask what it is!"

Full of wonder, he obeyed her; and the little beauty, having executedher scheme, seemed quite intoxicated with delight. When he waspreparing to withdraw, she called to him, and asked when he shouldvisit Lady Tinemouth. 

"This evening, madam. "

"Then, " returned she, "tell her ladyship I shall come and sit half-an-hour with her to-night; and here, " added she, running up to him, "present her that rose, with my love. " Whilst she put it into hishand, she whispered in a low voice, "and you will tell me what youthink of the verses I have given you. "

Thaddeus colored and bowed. He hurried out of the house into thestreet, as if by that haste he could have gotten out of a dilemma towhich he feared all this foolish mystery might be only theintroduction. 

Though of all men in the world he was perhaps the least inclined tovanity, yet he must have been one of the most stupid had he not beenconvinced by this time of the dangerous attachment of Lady Sara. Added to that painful certainty he now more than dreaded a similarthough a slighter folly in Miss Euphemia. 

Can a man see himself the daily object of a pair of melting eyes, hear everlasting sighs at his entrance and departure, day after dayreceive tender though covert addresses about disinterested love, canhe witness all this, and be sincere when he affirms it is thelanguage of indifference? If that be possible, the Count Sobieski hasno pretensions of modesty. He comprehended the "discoursing" of MissEuphemia's "eye;" also the tendency of the love-sick mottoes which, under various excuses, she put into his hand; and with many a pityingsmile of contempt he contemplated her childish absurdity. 

A few days prior to that in which she made this appointment withThaddeus, she had presented to him another of her posies, which ranthus: "Frighted love, like a wild beast, shakes the wood in which ithides. "

Thaddeus almost laughed at the oddity of the conceit. 

"Do, dear Mr. Constantine, " cried she, "translate it into thesweetest French you can; for I mean to have it put into a medallion, and to give it to the person whom I most value on earth!"

There was something so truly ridiculous in the sentence, that, reluctant to allow even Miss Euphemia to expose herself so far, heconsidered a moment how he should make anything so bad better, andthen said, "I am afraid I cannot translate it literally; but surely, madam, you can do it yourself!"

"Yes; but I like your French better than mine; so pray oblige me. "

He had done the same kind of thing a hundred times for her, and, without further discussion, wrote as follows:--

"L'amour tel qu'une biche blessée, se trahit lui-même par sa crainte, qui fait remuer le feuillage qui le couvre. "

"Bless me, how pretty!" cried she, and immediately put it into herbosom. 

To this unlucky addition of the words _se trahit lui-meme_Thaddeus was indebted for the present of the folded paper. The ever-working imagination of Euphemia had seized the inverted thought as adelicate avowal that he was the wounded deer he had substituted inplace of the wild beast; and as soon is he arrived at home, he foundthe fruits of her mistake in the packet she had given with so muchsecrecy. 

When he broke the seal, something dropped out and fell on the carpet. He took it up, and blushed for her on finding a gold medallion, withthe words he had altered for Miss Euphemia engraved on blue enamel. With a vexed haste he next looked at the envelope; it contained acopy of verses, with this line written at the top:

"To him who will apply them. "

On perusing them, he found them to be Mrs. Phillips's beautifultranslation of that ode of Sappho which runs--

 "Blest as the immortal gods is he, The friend who fondly sits by thee, And hears and sees thee all the while Softly speak and sweetly smile!

 "'Twas this deprived my soul of rest, And rais'd such tumults in my breast: For while I gazed, in transport tost, My breath was gone, my voice was lost. 

 "My bosom glow'd; the subtle flame Ran quick through all my vital frame; O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung; My ears with hollow murmurs rung. 

 "In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd; My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd: My feeble pulse forgot to play; I fainted, sunk and died away!

 "EUPHEMIA. "

Thaddeus threw the verses and the medallion together on the table, and sat for a few minutes considering how he could extricate himselffrom an affair so truly farcical in itself, but which might beproductive of a very distressing consequence to him. 

He was thinking of at once giving up the task of attending either ofthe sisters, when his eyes falling on the uncomplaining butmelancholy features of his poor friend, he exclaimed, "No; for thysake, gallant Butzou, I will brave every scene, however abhorrent tomy heart. "

Well aware, from observation on Miss Euphemia, that this seemingtenderness which prompted an act so wild and unbecoming originated inmere caprice, ha did not hesitate in determining to return the thingsin as handsome a manner as possible and by so doing, at once crushthe whole affair. He felt no pain in forming those resolves, becausehe saw that not one impulse of her conduct sprung from her heart. Itwas a whim raised by him to-day, which might be superseded by anotherto-morrow. 

But how different was the case with regard to Lady Sara! Heruncontrolled nature could not long brook the restraints offriendship. Every attention he gave to Lady Tinemouth, every civilityhe paid to Miss Egerton, or to any other lady whom he met at thecountess's, went like a dagger to her soul; and whenever she couldgain his ear in private, she generally made him sensible of hermisery, and his own unhappiness in being its cause, by reproacheswhich too unequivocally proclaimed their source. 

He now saw that she had given way to a reprehensible and headstrongpassion; and, allowing for the politeness which is due to the sex, hetried, by an appearance of the most stubborn coldness, and anobstinate perversity in shutting his apprehension against all herspeeches and actions, to stem a tide that threatened her with ruin. 

Lady Tinemouth at least began to open her eyes to the periloussituation of both her friends. Highly as she esteemed Thaddeus, sheknew not the extent of his integrity. She had lived too long near thecircle of the heir apparent, and had seen too many men from thecourts of the continent, to place much reliance on the firmness of asingle and unattached young man when assailed by rank, beauty andlove. 

Alarmed at what might be the result of her observations, and fearingto lose any time, she had that very evening in winch she expectedThaddeus to supper drawn out of Lady Sara the unhappy state of herheart. 

The dreadful confession was made by her ladyship, with repeatedshowers of tears, and in paroxysms of agony which pierced thecountess to the soul. 

"My dear Lady Sara, " cried she, "for heaven's sake, remember yourduty to Captain Ross!"

"I shall never forget it, " exclaimed her ladyship, shaking her headmournfully, and striking her breast with her clenched hand, "I neverlook on the face of Constantine that I do not execrate from my heartthe vows which I have sworn to Ross, but I have bound myself hisproperty, and though I hate him, whatever it may cost me, I willnever forget that my faith and honor are my husband's. "

With a countenance bathed in tears, Lady Tinemouth put her arms roundthe waist of Lady Sara, who now sat motionless, with her eyes fixedon the fire. 

"Dear Lady Sara! that was spoken like yourself. Do more; abstain fromseeing Mr. Constantine. "

"Don't require of me that?" cried she; "I could easier rid myself ofexistence. He is the very essence of my happiness. It is only in hiscompany that I forget that I am a wretch. "

"This is obstinacy, my dear Lady Sara! This is courting danger. "

"Lady Tinemouth, urge me no more. Is it not enough?" continued she, sullenly, "that I am miserable? Would you drive me to desperation? Ifthere be danger; you brought me into it. "

"I! Lady Sara?"

"Yes, you, Lady Tinemouth; you introduced him to me. "

"But you are married! Singularly attractive and amiable as indeed heis, could I suppose--"

"Nonsense!" cried her ladyship, interrupting her; "you know that I ammarried to a mere sailor, more in love with his ugly ship than withme! But it is not because Constantine is so handsome that I like him. No; though no human form can come nearer to perfection, yet it wasnot that: it was you. You and Sophia Egerton were always telling meof his bravery; what wealth and honors he had sacrificed in theservice of his country; how nobly he succored the distresses ofothers; how heedless he was of his own. This fired my imagination andwon my heart. No; it was not his personal attractions: I am not sodespicable!"

"Dear Lady Sara, be calm!" entreated the countess, completely at aloss how to manage a spirit of such violence. "Think, my dear friend, what horrors you would experience if Mr. Constantine were to discoverthis predilection, and presume upon it! You know where even the bestmen are vulnerable. "

The eyes of Lady Sara sparkled with pleasure. 

"Why, surely, Lady Sara!" exclaimed Lady Tinemouth, doubtingly. 

"Don't fear me, Lady Tinemouth; I know my own dignity too well to doanything disgraceful; yet I would acquire the knowledge that he lovesme at almost any price. But he is cold, " added she: "he is a piece ofobstinate petrefaction, which Heaven itself could not melt!"

Lady Tinemouth was glad to hear this account of Thaddeus; but ere shecould reply, the drawing-room door opened, and Miss Euphemia Dundaswas announced. 

When the little beauty expressed her amazement at not seeing Mr. Constantine, Lady Sara gave her such a withering look, that had herladyship's eyes been Medusan, poor Euphemia would have stood thereforever after, a stone statue of disappointment. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

THE COUNTESS OF TINEMOUTH'S STORY. 

Meanwhile the count, having seen Dr. Cavendish, and received afavorable opinion of his friend, wrote the following note to MissEuphemia:--

"TO MISS EUPHEMIA DUNDAS. 

"Mr. Constantine very much admires the taste of Miss Euphemia Dundasin her choice of the verses which she did him the honor of requestinghe would translate into the most expressive language, and to theutmost of his abilities he has obeyed her commands in Italian, thinking that language the best adapted to the versification of theoriginal. 

"Mr. Constantine equally admires the style of the medallion whichMiss E. Dundas has condescended to enclose for his inspection, andassures her the letters are correct. "

Having sealed his note, and seen the general in bed, with littleNanny seated by him to watch his slumbers, Thaddeus pursued his wayto Grosvenor Place. 

When he entered Lady Tinemouth's drawing-room, he saw that his young_inamorata_ had already arrived, and was in close conversationwith the countess. Lady Sara, seated alone on a sofa, inwardlyupbraided Constantine for what she thought an absolute assignationwith Euphemia. 

Her half-resentful eyes, yet dewed with the tears which her discoursewith Lady Tinemouth had occasioned, sought his averted face, while helooked at Miss Dundas with evident surprise and disgust. This pleasedher; and the more so as he only bowed to her rival, shook thecountess by the hand, and then turning, took his station besideherself on the sofa. 

She would not trust her triumphant eyes towards Lady Tinemouth, butimmediately asked him some trifling question. At the same momentEuphemia tapped him on the arm with her fan, and inquired how ithappened that she had arrived first. 

He was answering Lady Sara. Euphemia impatiently repeated her demand, "How did it happen that I arrived first?"

"I suppose, madam, " replied he, smiling, "because you were sofortunate as to set out first. But had I been so happy as to havepreceded you, the message and present with which I was honored wouldhave been faithfully delivered, and I hope your ladyship will permitme to do it now, " said he, rising, and taking Euphemia's rose fromhis button, as he approached the countess; "Miss Euphemia Dundas haddone me the honor to make me the bearer of sweets to the sweet; andthus I surrender my trust. " He bowed, and put the flower into LadyTinemouth's hand, who smiled and thanked Euphemia. But the littlebeauty blushed like her own rose; and murmuring within herself at theliteral apprehension of her favorite, whom she thought as handsome asCimon, and as stupid too, she flirted her fan, and asked Miss Egertonwhether she had read Charlotte Smith's last delightful novel. 

The evening passed off more agreeably to Thaddeus than he had auguredon his entrance. Lady Sara always embarrassed and pained him; MissEuphemia teased him to death; but to-night the storm which hadagitated the breast of her ladyship having subsided intothoughtfulness, it imparted so abstracted an air to her ever-lovelycountenance, that, merely to elude communication with Euphemia, heremained near her, and by paying those attentions which, so situated, he could not avoid, he so deluded the wretched Lady Sara, as tosubdue her melancholy into an enchanting softness which to any otherman might have rendered her the most captivating woman on earth. 

The only person present who did not approve this change was LadyTinemouth. At every dissolving smile of her Circean ladyship, shethought she beheld the intoxicating cup at the lips of Thaddeus, anddreaded its effect. Euphemia was too busily employed repeating somenew poems, and too intensely dreaming of what her tutor might say onthe verses and medallion in his possession, to observe the dangerousascendency which the superior charms of Lady Sara might acquire overhis heart. Indeed, she had no suspicion of finding a rival in herladyship; and when a servant announced the arrival of her mother'scoach, and she saw by her watch that it was twelve o'clock, she arosereluctantly, exclaiming, "I dare say some plaguing people havearrived who are to stay with us, else mamma would not have sent forme so soon. "

"I call it late, " said Lady Sara, who would not lose an opportunityof contradicting her; "so I will thank you, Mr. Constantine. "addressing herself to him, "to hand me to my coach at the same time. "

Euphemia bit her lip at this movement of her ladyship, and followedher down stairs, reddening with anger. Her carriage being first, shewas obliged to get into it, but would not suffer the servant to closethe door until she had seen Lady Sara seated in hers; and then shecalled to Mr. Constantine to speak with her. 

Lady Sara leaned her head out of the window. While she saw the manshe loved approach Lady Dundas's carriage, she, in her turn, bit herlips with vexation. 

"Home, my lady?" asked the servant, touching his hat. 

"No; not till Miss Dundas's coach drives on. "

Miss Euphemia desired Thaddeus to step in for a moment, and hereluctantly obeyed. 

"Mr. Constantine!" cried the pretty simpleton, trembling withexpectation, as she made room for him beside her, "have you openedthe paper I gave you?"

"Yes, madam, " returned he, holding the door open, and widening itwith one hand, whilst with the other he presented his note, "and Ihave the honor, in that paper, to have executed your commands. "

Euphemia caught it eagerly; and Thaddeus immediately leaping out, wished her a good-night, and hurried back into the house. Whilst thecarriages drove away, he ascended to the drawing-room, to take leaveof the countess. 

Lady Tinemouth, seated on the sofa, was leaning thoughtfully againstone of its arms when he re-entered. He approached her. 

"I wish you a good-night, Lady Tinemouth. "

She turned her head. 

"Mr. Constantine, I wish you would stay a little longer with me! Myspirits are disturbed, and I am afraid it will be near morning beforeSophia returns from Richmond. These rural balls are sad, dissipatedamusements!"

Thaddeus laid down his hat and took a seat by her side. 

"I am happy, dear Lady Tinemouth, at all times to be with you; but Iam sorry to hear that you have met with any thing to discompose you. I was afraid when I came in that something disagreeable had happened;your eyes----"

"Alas! if my eyes were always to show when I have been weeping, theymight ever be telling tales!" Her ladyship passed her hand acrossthem, while she added, "We may think on our sorrows with an outwardair of tranquillity, but we cannot always speak of them without someagitation. "

"Ah, Lady Tinemouth!" exclaimed the count, drawing closer to her;"could not even your generous sympathizing heart escape calamity?"

"To cherish a sympathizing heart, my young friend, " replied she, "isnot a very effectual way to avoid the pressure of affliction. On thereverse, such a temper extracts unhappiness from causes which wouldfail to extort even a sigh from dispositions of less susceptibility. Ideas of sensibility and sympathy are pretty toys for a novice toplay with; but change those wooden swords into weapons of real metal, and you will find the points through your heart before you are awareof the danger--at least, I find it so. Mr. Constantine, I havefrequently promised to explain to you the reason of the sadness whichso often tinges my conversation; and I know not when I shall be in afitter humor to indulge myself at your expense, for I never was morewretched, never stood more in need of the consolations of a friend. "

She covered her face with her handkerchief, and remained so for sometime. Thaddeus pressed her hand several times, and waited inrespectful silence until she recommenced. 

"Forgive me, my dear sir; I am very low to-night--very nervous. Having encountered two or three distressing circumstances to-day, these tears relieve me. You have heard me speak of my son, and of mylord; yet I never collected resolution to recount how we wereseparated. This morning I saw my son pass my window; he looked up;but the moment I appeared, he turned away and hastened down thestreet. Though I have received many stronger proofs of dislike, bothfrom his father and himself, yet slight as this offence may seem, itpierced me to the soul. O, Mr. Constantine, to know that the child towhom I gave life regards me with abhorrence, is dreadful--is beyondeven the anxious partiality of a mother either to excuse or topalliate!"

"Perhaps, dear Lady Tinemouth, you misjudge Lord Harwold; he may beunder the commands of his father, and yet yearn to show you hisaffection and duty. "

"No, Mr, Constantine; your heart is too good even to guess what maybe the guilt of another. Gracious Heaven! am I obliged to speak so ofmy son!--he who was my darling!--he who once loved me so dearly! Buthear me, my dear sir; you shall judge for yourself, and you willwonder that I am now alive to endure more. I have suffered by him, byhis father, and by a dreadful woman, who not only tore my husband andchildren from me, but stood by till I was beaten to the ground. Yes, Mr. Constantine, any humane man would shudder as you do at such anassertion; but it is too true. Soon after Lady Olivia Lovel becamethe mistress of my lord, and persuaded him to take my son from me, Iheard that the poor boy had fallen ill through grief, and lay sick athis lordship's house in Hampshire. I heard he was dying. Imagine myagonies. Wild with distress, I flew to the park lodge, and, forgetfulof anything but my child, was hastening across the park, when I sawthis woman, this Lady Olivia, approaching me, followed by two femaleservants. One of them carried my daughter, then an infant, in herarms; and the other, a child of which this unnatural wretch hadrecently become the mother. I was flying towards my little Albina, toclasp her to my heart, when Lady Olivia caught hold of my arm. Hervoice now rings in my ears. 'Woman!' cried she, 'leave this place;there are none here to whom you are not an object of abhorrence. '

"Struggling to break from her, I implored to be permitted to embracemy child; but she held me fast, and, regardless of my cries, orderedboth the women to return into the house. Driven to despair, I droppedon my knees, conjuring her, by her feelings as a mother, to allow mefor one moment to see my dying son, and that I would promise, by myhopes of everlasting happiness, to cherish her child as my own shouldit ever stand in need of a friend. The horrid woman only laughed atmy prayers, and left me in a swoon. When I recovered, the firstobjects I beheld were my lord and Lady Olivia standing near me, andmyself in the arms of a man-servant, whom they had commanded to carryme outside the gate. At the sight of my husband, I sprang to hisfeet, when with one dreadful blow of his hand he struck me to theground. Merciful Providence! how did I retain my senses! I besoughtthis cruel husband to give me a second blow, that I might suffer nomore. 

"'Take her out of my sight, ' cried he; 'she is mad. '

"I was taken out of his sight, more dead than alive, and led by hispitying servants to an inn, where I was afterwards confined for threeweeks with a brain fever. From that hour I have never had a day ofhealth. "

Thaddeus was shocked beyond utterance at this relation. The palenessof his countenance being the only reply he made, the anguishednarrator resumed. 

"I have gone out of order. I proposed to inform you clearly of mysituation, but the principal outrage of my heart rose immediately tomy lips. I will commence regularly, if I can methodize myrecollection. 

"The Earl of Tinemouth married me from passion: I will not sanctifyhis emotions by the name of affection; though, " added she, forcing asmile, "these faded features too plainly show that of all mankind, Iloved but him alone. I was just fifteen when he came to visit myfather, who lived in Berkshire. My father, Mr. Cumnor, and hisfather, Lord Harwold, had been friends at college. My lord, then Mr. Stanhope, was young, handsome, and captivating. He remained theautumn with us, and at the end of that period declared an affectionfor me which my heart too readily answered. About this time hereceived a summons from his father, and we parted. Like most girls ofmy age, I cherished an unconquerable bashfulness against admittingany confidant to my attachment; hence my parents knew nothing of theaffair until it burst upon them in the cruelest shape. 

"About two months after Mr. Stanhope's departure, a letter arrivedfrom him, urging me to fly with him to Scotland. He alleged as areason for such a step that his grandfather, the Earl of Tinemouth, insisted on his forming a union with Lady Olivia Lovel, who was thena young widow, and the favorite niece of the most powerful noblemanin the kingdom. Upon this demand, he confessed to the earl that hisaffections were engaged. His lordship, whose passions were those of amadman, broke into such horrible execrations of myself and my family, that Mr. Stanhope, himself, alas! enraged, intemperately swore thatno power on earth should compel him to marry so notorious a woman asLady Olivia Lovel, nor to give me up. After communicating theseparticulars, he concluded with repeating his entreaties that I wouldconsent to marry him in Scotland. The whole of this letter so alarmedme, that I showed it to my parents. My father answered it in a mannerbefitting his own character; but that only irritated the impetuouspassions of my lover. In the paroxysm of his rage, he flew to theearl his grandfather, upbraided him with the ruin of his happiness, and so exasperated the old man, that he drew his sword upon him; andhad it not been for the interference of his father, Lord Harwold, whohappened to enter at the moment, a most fatal catastrophe might haveensued. To end the affair at once, the latter, whose gentle natureembraced the mildest measures, obtained the earl's permission to sendMr. Stanhope abroad. 

"Meanwhile I was upheld by my revered parent, who is now no more, infirmly rejecting my lover's entreaties for a private marriage. And ashis grandfather continued resolutely deaf to his prayers or threats, he was at length persuaded by his excellent father to accompany somefriends to France. 

"At the end of a few weeks Mr. Stanhope began to regard them as spieson him; and after a violent quarrel, they parted, no one knowing towhat quarter my lover directed his steps. I believe I was the firstwho heard any tidings of him. I remember well; it was in 1773, aboutfour-and-twenty years ago, that I received a letter from him. Oh! howlegibly are these circumstances written on my memory! It was datedfrom Italy, where, he told me, he resided in complete retirement, under the assumed name of Sackville. "

At this name, with every feature fixed in dismay, Thaddeus fell backon the sofa. 

The countess caught his hand. 

"What is the matter? You are ill? What is the matter?"

The bolt of indelible disgrace had struck to his heart. It was someminutes before he could recover; but when he did speak, he said, "Pray go on, madam; I am subject to this. Pray forgive me, and go on;I shall become better as you proceed. "

"No, my dear friend; I will quit my dismal story at present, andresume it some other time. "

"Pray continue it now, " rejoined Thaddeus; "I shall never be more fitto listen. Do, I entreat you. "

"Are you sincere in your request? I fear I have already affected youtoo much. "

"No; I am sincere: let me hear it all. Do not hold back anythingwhich relates to that stain to the name of Englishman, who completedhis crimes by rendering you wretched!"

"Alas! he did, " resumed her ladyship; "for when he returned, whichwas in consequence of the Earl of Tinemouth's death, my father wasalso dead, who might have stood between me and my inclinations, andso preserved me from many succeeding sorrows. I sealed my fate, andbecame Stanhope's wife. 

"The father of my husband was then Earl of Tinemouth; and as he hadnever been averse to our union, he presented me with a cottage on thebanks of the Wye, where I passed three delightful years, the happiestof womankind. My husband, my mother, and my infant son formed myfelicity; and greatly I prize it--too greatly to be allowed a longcontinuance!

"At the end of this period, some gay friends paid us a visit. Whenthey returned to town, they persuaded my lord to be of the party. Hewent; and from that fatal day all my sufferings arose. 

"Lord Harwold, instead of being with me in a fortnight, as he hadpromised, procrastinated his absence under various excuses from weekto week, during which interval my Albina was born. Day after day Ianticipated the delight of putting her into the arms of her father;but, what a chasm! she was three months old before he appeared; andah! how changed. He was gloomy to me, uncivil to my mother, andhardly looked at the child. "

Lady Tinemouth stopped at this part of her narrative to wipe away hertears. Thaddeus was sitting forward to the table, leaning on his arm, with his hand covering his face. The countess was grateful for anexcess of sympathy she did not expect; and taking his other hand, asit lay motionless on his knee, "What a consolation would it be tome, " exclaimed she, "durst I entertain a hope that I may one daybehold but half such pity from my own son!"

Thaddeus pressed her hand. He did not venture to reply; he could nottell her that she deceived herself even here; that it was not hersorrows only which so affected him, but the remembered agonies of hisown mother, whom he did not doubt the capricious villany of this veryearl, under the name of Sackville (a name that had struck like adeath-bolt to the heart of Thaddeus when he first heard his motherutter it), had devoted to a life of uncomplaining but ceaseless self-reproach. And had he derived his existence from such a man--thereprobate husband of Lady Tinemouth! The conviction humbled him, crushed him, and trod him to the earth. He did not look up, and thecountess resumed:

"It would be impossible, my dear sir, to describe to you the gradualchanges which assured me that I had lost the heart of my husband. Before the end of the winter he left me again, and I saw him no moreuntil that frightful hour in which he struck me to the ground. 

"The good earl came into Monmouthshire about six weeks after I partedwith my lord. I was surprised and rejoiced to see my kind father-in-law; but how soon were my emotions driven into a different course! Herevealed to me that during Lord Harwold's first visit to town he hadbeen in the habit of spending entire evenings with Lady Olivia Lovel. "

'This woman, ' added he, 'is the most artful of her sex. In spite ofher acknowledged dishonor, you well know my deceased father wouldgladly have married her to my son; and now it seems, actuated byrevenge, she resents Lord Harwold's refusal of her hand by seducinghim from his wife. Alas! I am too well convinced that the errors ofmy son bear too strict a resemblance to those of his grandfather. Vain of his superior abilities, and impatient of contradiction, flattery can mould him to what it pleases. Lady Olivia had discoveredthese weak points in his character; and, I am informed, she soonpersuaded him that you impose on his affection by detaining him fromthe world; and, seconded by other fascinations, my deluded son hasaccompanied her into Spain. '

"You may imagine, Mr. Constantine, my distraction at thisintelligence. I was like one lost; and the venerable earl, fearing totrust me in such despair out of his sight, brought me and my childrenwith him to London. In less than four months afterwards, I wasdeprived of this inestimable friend by a paralytic stroke. His deathsummoned the new earl to England. Whilst I lay on a sick bed, intowhich I had been thrown by the shock of my protector's death, my lordand his mistress arrived in London. 

"They immediately assumed the command of my lamented father-in-law'shouse, and ordered my mother to clear it directly of me. My heart-broken parent obeyed, and I was carried in a senseless state to alodging in the nearest street. But when this dear mother returned formy children, neither of them were permitted to see her. The malignantLady Olivia, actuated by an insatiable hatred of me, easily wroughton my frantic husband (for I must believe him mad) to detain thementirely. A short time after this, that dreadful scene happened whichI have before described. 

"Year succeeded year, during which time I received many cruel insultsfrom my husband, many horrible ones from my son; for I had beenadvised to institute a suit against my lord, in which I only pleadedfor the return of my children. I lost my cause, owing, I hope, to badcounsel, not the laws of my country. I was adjudged to be separatedfrom the earl, with a maintenance of six hundred a-year, which hehardly pays. I was tied down never to speak to him, nor to his sonnor his daughter. Though this sentence was passed, I neveracknowledged its justice, but wrote several times to my children. Lord Harwold, who is too deeply infected with his father's cruelty, has either returned my letters unopened or with insulting replies. For my daughter, she keeps an undeviating silence; and I have noteven seen her since the moment in which she was hurried from my eyesin Tinemouth Park. 

"In vain her brother tries to convince me that she detests me. I willnot believe it; and the hope that, should I survive her father, I mayyet embrace my child, has been, and will be, my source of maternalcomfort until it be fulfilled, or I bury my disappointment in thegrave. "

Lady Tinemouth put her handkerchief to her eyes, which were againflowing with tears. Thaddeus thought he must speak, if he would notbetray an interest in her narrative, which he determined nocircumstance should ever humble him to reveal. Raising his head fromhis hand, he unconsciously discovered to the countess his agonizedcountenance. 

"Kind, affectionate Constantine! surely such a heart as thine neverwould bring sorrow to the breast of a virtuous husband! You couldnever betray the self-deluded Lady Sara to any fatal error!"

Lady Tinemouth did not utter these thoughts. Thaddeus rose from hisseat. "Farewell, my honored friend!" said he; "may Heaven bless youand pardon your husband!"

Then grasping her hand, with what he intended should be a pressure offriendship, but which his internal tortures rendered almostintolerable, he hastened down stairs, opened the outward door, andgot into the street. 

Unknowing and heedless whither he went, with the steps of a mandriven by the furies, he traversed one street and then another. As hewent along, in vain the watchmen reminded him by their cries that itwas past three o'clock: he still wandered on, forgetting that it wasnight, that he had any home, any destination. 

His father was discovered!--that father of whom he had entertained alatent hope, should they ever meet, that he might produce some excusefor having been betrayed into an act disgraceful to a man of honor. But when all these filial dreams were blasted by the conviction thathe owed his being to the husband of Lady Tinemouth, that his motherwas the victim of a profligate, that he had sprung from a man who wasnot merely a villain, but the most wanton, the most despicable ofvillains, he saw himself bereft of hope and overwhelmed with shameand horror. 

Full of reflections which none other than a son in such circumstancescan conceive, he was lost amidst the obscure alleys of TottenhamCourt Yard, when loud and frequent cries recalled his attention. Aquantity of smoke, with flashes of light, led him to suppose thatthey were occasioned by a fire; and a few steps further the awfulspectacle burst upon his sight. 

It was a house from the windows of which the flames were breaking outin every direction, whilst a gathering concourse of people wereeither standing in stupefied astonishment or uselessly shouting forengines and assistance. 

At the moment in which he arrived, two or three naked wretches justescaped from their beds, were flying from side to side, making theair echo with their shrieks. 

"Will nobody save my children?" cried one of them, approachingThaddeus, and wringing her hands in agony; "will nobody take themfrom the fire?"

"Where shall I seek them?" replied he. 

"Oh! in that room, " exclaimed she, pointing; "the flames are alreadythere; they will be burnt! they will be burnt!"

The poor woman was hurrying madly forward, when the count stoppedher, and giving her in charge of a bystander, cried: "Take care ofthis woman, if possible, I will save her children. " Darting throughthe open door, in defiance of the smoke and danger, he made his wayto the children's room, where, almost suffocated by the sulphurouscloud that surrounded him, he at last found the bed; but it containedone child only. This he instantly caught up in his arms, and washastening down the stairs, when the cries of the other from a distantpart of the building made him hesitate; but thinking it better tosecure one than to hazard both by lingering, he rushed into thestreet just as a post-chaise had stopped to inquire the particularsof the accident. The carriage-door being open, Thaddeus, seeingladies in it, without saying a word, threw the sleeping infant intotheir laps, and hastened back into the house, where he hoped torescue the other child before the fire could increase to warrantdespair. The flames having now made dreadful progress, his face, hands, and clothes were scorched by their fury as he flew from theroom, following the shrieks of the child, who seemed to change itssituation with every exertion that he made to reach it. At length, when every moment he expected the house would sink under his feet, asa last attempt he directed his steps along a passage he had notbefore observed, and to his great joy beheld the object of his searchflying down a back staircase. The boy sprung into his arms; andThaddeus, turning round, leaped from one landing-place to another, until he found himself again in the street, surrounded by a crowd ofpeople. 

He saw the poor mother clasp this second rescued child to her breast;and whilst the spectators were loading her with congratulations, heslipped away unseen, and proceeded homewards, with a warmth at hisheart which made him forget, in the joy of a benevolent action, thatpetrifying shock which had been occasioned by the vices of one toonearly allied to his being to be hated without horror. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE KINDREDSHIP OF MINDS. 

When Thaddeus awoke next morning, he found himself more refreshed, and freer from the effects of the last night's discovery, than hecould have reasonably hoped. The presence of mind and activity whichthe fire called on him to exert, having forced his thoughts into adifferent channel, had afforded his nerves an opportunity to regainsome portion of their usual strength. He could now reflect on what hehad heard without suffering the crimes of another to lay him on therack. The reins were again restored to his hand, and neitheragitation nor anxiety showed themselves in his face or manner. 

Though the count's sensibility was very irritable, and when suddenlyexcited he could not always conceal his emotion, yet he possessed apower of look which immediately repressed the impertinence ofcuriosity or insolence. Indeed, this mantle of repulsion proved to behis best shield; for never had man more demands on the dignity of hissoul to shine out about his person. 

Not unfrequently has his sudden appearance in the study-room at LadyDundas's at once called a natural glow through the ladies' rouge, andsilenced the gentlemen, when he has happened to enter while MissDundas and half-a-dozen other beaux and belles have been ridiculingEuphemia on the absurd civilities she paid to her language-master. 

The morning after the fire, a little bevy of these fashionablebutterflies were collected in this way at one corner of Miss Dundas'sHercules table, when, during a moment's pause, "I hope, MissBeaufort, " cried the Honorable Mr. Lascelles, "I hope you don't intendto consume the brightness of your eyes over this stupid language?"

"What language, Mr. Lascelles?" inquired she; "I have this momententered the room, and I don't know what you are talking about. "

"Good Lud! that is very true, " cried he; "I mean a shocking jargon, which a shocking penseroso man teaches to these ladies. We want topersuade Miss Euphemia that it spoils her mouth. "

"You are always misconceiving me, Mr. Lascelles, " interrupted MissDundus, impatiently; "I did not advance one word against thelanguage; I merely remonstrated with Phemy against her preposterousattentions to the man we hire to teach it. "

"That was what I meant, madam, " resumed he, with a low bow. 

"You meant what, sir?" demanded the little beauty, contemptuously;"but I need not ask. You are like a bad mirror, which from radicaldefect always gives false reflections. "

"Very good, faith, Miss Euphemia! I declare, sterling wit! It wouldhonor Sheridan, or your sister. "

"Mr. Lascelles, " cried Euphemia, more vexed than before, "let me tellyou such impertinence is very unbecoming a gentleman. "

"Upon my soul, Miss Euphemia!"

"Pray allow the petulant young lady to get out of her airs, as shehas, I believe, got out of her senses, without our help!" exclaimedMiss Dundas; "for I declare I know not where she picked up these viledemocratic ideas. "

"I am not a democrat, Diana, " answered Euphemia, rising from herseat; "and I won't stay to be abused, when I know it is all envy, because Mr. Constantine happened to say that I have a quicker memorythan you have. "

She left the room as she ended. Miss Dundas, ready to storm withpassion, but striving to conceal it, burst into a violent laugh, andturning to Miss Beaufort, said: "You now see, my dear Mary, a sadspecimen of Euphemia's temper; yet I hope you won't think tooseverely of her, for, poor thing, she has been spoilt by us all. "

"Pray, do not apologize to me in particular!" replied Miss Beaufort;"but, to be frank, I think it probable she would have shown hertemper less had that little admonition been given in private. I doubtnot she has committed something wrong, yet----"

"Yes, something very wrong, " interrupted Miss Dundas, reddening atthis rebuke; "both Mr. Lascelles and Lord Berington there----"

"Don't bring in my name, I pray, Miss Dundas, " cried the viscount, who was looking over an old edition of Massinger's plays; "you know Ihate being squeezed into squabbles. "

Miss Dundas dropped the corners of her mouth in contempt, and wenton. 

"Well, then, Mr. Lascelles, and Miss Poyntz, here, have both atdifferent times been present when Phemy has conducted herself in avery ridiculous way towards a young man Lady Tinemouth sent here toteach us German. Can you believe it possible that a girl of herfashion could behave in this style without having first imbibed somevery dangerous notions? I am sure I am right, for she could not bemore civil to him if he were a gentleman. " Miss Dundas supposed shehad now set the affair beyond controversy, and stopped with an air oftriumph. Miss Beaufort perceived that her answer was expected. 

"I really cannot discover anything in the matter so veryreprehensible, " replied she. "Perhaps the person you speak of mayhave the qualifications of a gentleman; he may be above hissituation. " "Ah! above it, sure enough!" cried Lascelles, laughingboisterously at his own folly. He is tall enough to be aboveeverything, even good manners; for notwithstanding his plebeiancalling, I find he doesn't know how to keep his distance. "

"I am sorry for that, Lascelles, " cried Berrington, measuring thepuppy with his good-natured eye; "for these Magog men are terribleobjects to us of meaner dimensions! 'A substitute shines brightly asa king until a king be by, '"

"Why, my lord, you do not mean to compare me with such a low fellowas this? I don't understand Lord Berrington----"

"Bless me, gentlemen!" cried Miss Dundas, frightened at the angrylooks of the little honorable; "why, my lord, I thought you hatedsquabbles?"

"So I do, Miss Dundas, " replied he, laying down his book and comingforward; "and upon my honor, Mr. Lascelles, " added he, smiling, andturning towards the coxcomb, who stood nidging his head with anger byMiss Beaufort's chair, --"upon my honor, Mr. Lascelles, I did not meanto draw any parallel between your person and talents and those ofthis Mr, ----, I forget his name, for truly I never saw him in mylife; but I dare swear no comparison can exist between you. "

Lascelles took the surface of this speech, and bowed, whilst hislordship, turning to Miss Beaufort, began to compliment himself onpossessing so fair an ally in defence of an absent person. 

"I never have seen him, " replied she; "and what is more, I neverheard of him, till on entering the room Mr. Lascelles arrested me formy opinion about him. I only arrived from the country last night, andcan have no guess at the real grounds of this ill-judged bustle ofMiss Dundas's regarding a man she styles despicable. If he be so, whyretain him in her service? and, what is more absurd, why make aperson in that subordinate situation the subject of debate amongsther friends?"

"You are right, Miss Beaufort, returned Lord Berrington; but theeloquent Miss Dundas is so condescending to her friends, she lets noopportunity slip of displaying her sceptre, both over the republic ofwords and the empire of her mother's family. "

"Are not you severe now, Lord Berrington? I thought you generous tothe poor tutor!"

"No; I hope I am just on both subjects. I know the lady, and it istrue that I have seen nothing of the tutor; but it is natural towield the sword in favor of the defenceless, and I always considerthe absent in that light. "

Whilst these two conversed at one end of the room, the other groupwere arraigning the presumption of the vulgar, and the folly of thosewho gave it encouragement. 

At a fresh burst of laughter from Miss Dundas, Miss Beaufortmechanically turned her head; her eye was arrested by the appearanceof a gentleman in black, who was standing a few paces within thedoor. He was regarding the party before him with that loftytranquillity which is inseparable from high rank, when accompanied bya consciousness of as high inward qualities. His figure, his face, and his air contained that pure simplicity of contour which portraysall the graces of youth with the dignity of manhood. 

Miss Beaufort in a moment perceived that he was unobserved; risingfrom her seat, she said, "Miss Dundas, here is a gentleman. " MissDundas looked round carelessly. 

"You may sit down, Mr. Constantine. "

"Is it possible!" thought Miss Beaufort, as he approached, and theingenuous expression of his fine countenance was directed towardsher; "can this noble creature have been the subject of suchimpertinence!"

"I commend little Phemy's taste!" whispered Lord Berrington, leavinghis seat. "Ha! Miss Beaufort, a young Apollo?"

"And not in disguise!" replied she in the same manner, just asThaddeus had bowed to her; and, with "veiled lids, " was taking up abook from the table: not to read, but literally to have an object tolook on which could not insult him. 

"What did Miss Dundas say was his name?" whispered the viscount. 

"Constantine, I think. "

"Mr. Constantine, " said the benevolent Berrington, "will you acceptthis chair?"

Thaddeus declined it. But the viscount read in the "proud humility"of his bow that he had not always waited, a dependent, on the nods ofinsolent men and ladies of fashion; and, with a good-humoredcompulsion, he added, "pray oblige me for by that means I shall havean excuse to squeeze into the _Sultane_, which is so 'happy asto bear the weight of Beaufort!'"

Though Miss Beaufort was almost a stranger to his lordship, havingseen him only once before, with her cousin in Leicestershire, shesmiled at this unexpected gallantry, and in consideration of themotive, made room for him on the sofa. 

Offence was not swifter than kindness in its passage to the heart ofThaddeus, who, whilst he received the viscount's chair, raised hisface towards him with a look beaming such graciousness andobligation, that Miss Beaufort turned with a renewed glance ofcontempt on the party. The next instant they left the study. 

The instant Miss Dundas closed the door after her, Lord Berringtonexclaimed, "Upon my honor, Mr. Constantine, I have a good mind to putthat terrible pupil of yours into my next comedy! Don't you think shewould beat Katharine and Petruchio all to nothing? I declare I willhave her. "

"In _propria persona_, I hope?" asked Miss Beaufort, with aplayful smile. Lord Berrington answered with a gay sally fromShakspeare. 

The count remained silent during these remarks, though he fullyappreciated the first civil treatment which had greeted him since hisadmission within the doors of Lady Dundas Miss Euphemia's attentionsowned any other source than benevolence. 

Miss Beaufort wished to relieve his embarrassment by addressing him;but the more she thought, the less she knew what to say; and she hadjust abandoned it as a vain attempt, when Euphemia entered the roomalone. She curtseyed to Thaddeus and took her place at the table. Lord Berrington rose. 

"I must say good-by, Miss Euphemia; I will not disturb your studies. Farewell, Miss Beaufort!" added he, addressing her, and bending hislips to her hand. "Adieu! I shall look in upon you to-morrow. Good-morning, Mr. Constantine!"

Thaddeus bowed to him, and the viscount disappeared. 

"I am surprised. Miss Beaufort, " observed Euphemia, pettishly (hertemper not having subsided since her sister's lecture), "how you canendure that coxcomb!"

"Pardon me, Euphemia, " replied she; "though I did not exactly expectthe ceremony his lordship adopts in taking leave, yet I think thereis a generosity in his sentiments which deserves a better title. "

"I know nothing about his sentiments, for I always run away from hisconversation. A better title! I declare you make me laugh. Did youever see such fantastical dressing? I vow I never meet him withoutthinking of Jemmy Jessamy, and the rest of the gossamer beaux whosquired our grandmothers!"

"My acquaintance with Lord Berrington is trifling, " returned MissBeaufort, withdrawing her eyes from the pensive features of thecount, who was sorting the lessons; "yet I am so far prepossessed inhis favor, that I see little in his appearance to reprehend. However, I will not contest that point, as perhaps the philanthropy I thismorning discovered in his heart, the honest warmth with which hedefended an absent character, after you left the room, might renderhis person as charming in my eyes as I certainly found his mind. "

Thaddeus had not for a long time heard such sentiments out of LadyTinemouth's circle; and he now looked up to take a distinct view ofthe speaker. 

In consequence of the established mode, that the presiding lady ofthe house is to give the tone to her guests, many were the visitorsof Miss Dundas whose faces Thaddeus was as ignorant of when they wentout of the library as when they came in. They took little notice ofhim; and he, regarding them much less, pursued his occupation withoutevincing a greater consciousness of their presence than what mereceremony demanded. 

Accordingly, when in compliance with Lord Berrington's politeness hereceived his chair, and saw him remove to a sofa beside a verybeautiful woman, in the bloom of youth, Thaddeus supposed her mannermight resemble the rest of Miss Dundas's friends, and never directedhis glance a second time to her figure. But when he heard her (in avoice that was melody itself) defend his lordship's character, onprinciples which bore the most honorable testimony to her own, hiseyes were riveted on her face. 

Though a large Turkish shawl involved her fine person, a modest gracewas observable in its every turn. Her exquisitely moulded arm, ratherveiled than concealed by the muslin sleeve that covered it, wasextended in the gentle energy of her vindication. Her lucid eyesshone with a sincere benevolence, and her lips seemed to breathe balmwhile she spoke. His soul startled within itself as if by somestrange recognition that agitated him, and drew him inexplicablytowards its object. It was not the beauty he beheld, nor the wordsshe uttered, but he did not withdraw his fixed gaze until itencountered an accidental turn of her eyes, which instantly retreatedwith a deep blush mantling her face and neck. She had never met sucha look before, except in an occasional penetrating glance from anonly cousin, who had long watched the movements of her heart with abrother's care. 

But little did Thaddeus think at that time who she was, and hownearly connected with that friend whose neglect has been a venomedshaft unto his soul!

Mary Beaufort was the orphan heiress of Admiral Beaufort, one of themost distinguished officers in the British navy. He was the onlybrother of the now lamented Lady Somerset, the beloved mother ofPembroke Somerset, so often the eloquent subject of his discourse inthe sympathizing ear of Thaddeus Sobieski! The admiral and his wife, a person also of high quality, died within a few months after thebirth of their only child, a daughter, having bequeathed her to thecare of her paternal aunt; and to the sole guardianship of thatexemplary lady's universally-honored husband, Sir Robert Somerset, baronet, and M. P. For the county. When Lady Somerset's death spreadmourning throughout his, till then, happy home, (which unforeseenevent occurred hardly a week before her devoted son returned from theshores of the Baltic, ) a double portion of Sir Robert's tendernessfell upon her cherished niece. In her society alone he found anyconsolation for his loss. And soon after Pembroke's arrival, hiswidowed father, relinquishing the splendid scenes of his former lifein London, retired into the country, sometimes residing at one familyseat, sometimes at another, hoping by change of place to obtain somealleviating diversion from his ever sorrow-centred thoughts. 

Sir Robert Somerset, from the time of his marriage with theaccomplished sister of Admiral Beaufort to the hour in which hefollowed her to the grave, was regarded as the most admired man inevery circle, and yet more publicly respected as being themagnificent host and most munificent patron of talent, particularlyof British growth, in the whole land. Besides, by his own genius as astatesman, he often stood a tower of strength in the senate of hiscountry; and his general probity was of such a stamp, that hisprivate friends were all solicitous to acquire the protection of hisname over any important trusted interests for their families. Forinstance, the excellent Lord Avon consigned his only child to hisguardianship, and his wealthy neighbor, Sir Hector Dundas, made himsole trusted over the immense fortunes of his daughters. 

This latter circumstance explains the intimacy between two families, the female parts of which might otherwise have probably seldom met. 

On Sir Robert Somerset's last transient visit to London, (which hadbeen only on a call of business, on account of his minor charge, LordAvon, ) Lady Dundas became so urgent in requesting him to permit MissBeaufort to pass the ensuing season with her in town, that he couldnot, without rudeness, refuse. In compliance with this arrangement, the gentle Mary, accompanied by Miss Dorothy Somerset, a maidensister of the baronet's, quitted Deerhurst to settle themselves withher importunate ladyship in Harley Street for the remainder of thewinter--at least the winter of fashion! which, by a strange effect ofher magic wand, in defiance of grassy meadows, leafy trees, andsweetly-scented flowers, extends its nominal sceptre over the vernalmonths of April, May, and even the rich treasures of "resplendentJune. "

The summer part of this winter Miss Beaufort reluctantly consentedshould be sacrificed to ceremony, in the dust and heat of a greatcity; and if the melancholy which daily increased upon Sir Robertsince the death of his wife had not rendered her averse to oppose hiswishes, she certainly would have made objections to the visit. 

During the journey, she could not refrain from drawing a comparisonto Miss Dorothy between the dissipated insipidity of Lady Dundas'sway of life and the rationality as well as splendor of her latelamented aunt's. 

Lady Somerset's monthly assemblies were not the most elegant andbrilliant parties in town, but her weekly _conversaziones_surpassed everything of the kind in the kingdom. On these nights herladyship's rooms used to be filled with the most eminent characterswhich England could produce. There the young Mary Beaufort listenedto pious divines of every Christian persuasion. There she gatheredwisdom from real philosophers; and in the society of our best livingpoets, amongst whom were those leaders of our classic song, Rogersand William Southey, and the amiable Jerningham, cherished anenthusiasm for all that is great and good. On these evenings SirRobert Somerset's house reminded the visitor of what he had read orimagined of the school of Athens. He beheld not only sages, soldiers, statesmen, and poets, but intelligent and amiable women. And in thisrare assembly did the beautiful Mary imbibe that steady reverence forvirtue and talent which no intermixture with the ephemera of the claycould ever after either displace or impair. 

Notwithstanding this rare freedom from the chains with which hermerely fashionable friends would have shackled her mind, MissBeaufort possessed too much judgment and delicacy to flash herliberty in their eyes. Enjoying her independence with meekness, sheheld it more secure. Mary was no declaimer, not even in the cause ofoppressed goodness or injured genius. Aware that direct oppositionoften incenses malice, she directed the shaft from its aim, if itwere in her power, and when the attempt failed, strove by respect orsympathy to heal the wound she could not avert. Thus, whatever shesaid or did bore the stamp of her soul, whose leading attribute wasmodesty. By having learned much, and thought more, she proved in herconduct that reflection is the alchemy which turns knowledge intowisdom. 

Never did she feel so much regret at the shrinking of her powers fromcoming forth by some word or deed in aid of offended worth, as whenshe beheld the foreign stranger, so noble in aspect, standing underthe overbearing insolence of Miss Dundas's parasites. But sheperceived that his dignified composure rebounded their darts upon hisinsulters, and respect took the place of pity. The situation was newto her; and when she dropped her confused eyes beneath his unexpectedgaze, she marvelled within herself at the ease with which she hadjust taken up the cause of Lord Berrington, and the difficulty shehad found to summon one word as a repellant to the unmerited attackon the man before her. 

Euphemia cared nothing about Lord Berrington; to her his faults orhis virtues were alike indifferent; and forgetting that civilitydemanded some reply to Miss Beaufort's last observation, or rathertaking advantage of the tolerated privilege usurped by many high-bredpeople of being ill-bred, when and how they pleased, she returned toThaddeus, and said with a forced smile--

"Mr. Constantine, I don't like your opinion upon the ode I showed toyou; I think it a very absurd opinion; or perhaps you did notunderstand me rightly?"

Miss Beaufort took up a book, that her unoccupied attention might notdisturb their studies. 

Euphemia resumed, with a more natural dimple, and touching his glovewith the rosy points of her fingers, said, "You are stupid at translation. "

Thaddeus colored, and sat uneasily; he knew not how to evade thisdirect though covert attack. 

"I am a bad poet, madam. Indeed, it would be dangerous even for agood one to attempt the same path with Sappho and Phillips. "

Euphemia now blushed as deeply as the count, but from another motive. Opening her grammar, she whispered, "You are either a very dull or avery modest man!" and, sighing, began to repeat her lesson. 

While he bent his head over the sheet he was correcting; she suddenlyexclaimed, "Bless me, Mr. Constantine, what have you been doing? Ihope you don't read in bed! The top of your hair is burnt to acinder! Why, you look much more like one who has been in a fire thanMiss Beaufort does. "

Thaddeus put his hand to his head. 

"I thought I had brushed away all marks of a fire, in which I reallywas last night. "

"A fire!" interrupted Miss Beaufort, closing her book; "was it nearTottenham Court Road?"

"It was, madam, " answered he, in a tone almost as surprised as herown. 

"Good gracious!" cried Euphemia, exerting her little voice, that shemight be heard before Miss Beaufort could have time to reply; "then Ivow you are the gentleman who Miss Beaufort said ran into the burninghouse, and, covered with flames, saved two children from perishing!"

"And I am so happy as to meet one of the ladies, " replied he, turningwith an animated air to Miss Beaufort, "in you, madam, who sohumanely assisted the poor sufferers, and received the child from myarms?"

"It was indeed myself, Mr. Constantine, " returned she, a tearswimming over her eye, which in a moment gave the cue to the tenderEuphemia. She drew out her handkerchief; and whilst her pretty cheeksoverflowed, and her sweet voice was rendered sweeter by an emotionraised by ten thousand delightful fancies, she took hold of MissBeaufort's hand. 

"Oh! my lovely friend, wonder not that I esteem this braveConstantine far beyond his present station!"

Thaddeus drew back. Miss Beaufort looked amazed; but Euphemia hadmounted her romantic Pegasus, and the scene was too sentimental toclose. 

"Come here, Mr. Constantine, " cried she, extending her other hand tohis. Wondering where this folly would terminate, he gave it to her, when, instantly joining it with that of Miss Beaufort, she pressedthem together, and said, "Sweet Mary! heroic Constantine! I thuselect you the two dearest friends of my heart. So charminglyassociated in the delightful task of compassion, you shall ever becommingled in my faithful bosom. "

Then putting her handkerchief to her eyes, she walked out of theroom, leaving Miss Beaufort and the count, confused and confounded, by the side of each other. Miss Beaufort, suspecting that someextravagant fancy had taken possession of the susceptible Euphemiatowards her young tutor, declined speaking first. Thaddeus, fixinghis gaze on her downcast and revolving countenance, perceived nothinglike offended pride at his undesigned presumption. He saw that shewas only embarrassed, and after a minute's hesitation, broke thesilence. 

"I hope that Miss Beaufort is sufficiently acquainted with theromance of Miss Euphemia's character to pardon the action, unintentional on my part, of having touched her hand? I declare I hadno expectation of Miss Euphemia's design. "

"Do not make any apology to me, Mr. Constantine, " returned she, resuming her seat; "to be sure I was a little electrified by thestrange situation in which her vivid feelings have just made usactors. But I shall not forego my claim on what she promised--youracquaintance. "

Thaddeus expressed his high sense of her condescension. 

"I am not fond of fine terms, " continued she, smiling; "but I knowthat time and merit must purchase esteem. I can engage for the first, as I am to remain in town at least three months; but for the last, Ifear I shall never have the opportunity of giving such an earnest ofmy desert as you did last night of yours. "

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Thaddeus took up his hat, andbowing, replied to her compliment with such a modest yet noble grace, that she gazed after him with wonder and concern. Before he closedthe door he again bowed. Pleased with the transient look of a softpleasure which beamed from his eyes, through whose ingenuous mirrorsevery thought of his soul might be read, she smiled a second adieu, and as he disappeared, left the room by another passage. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XXVII. 

SUCH THINGS WERE. 

When the count appeared the succeeding day in Harley Street, MissBeaufort introduced him to Miss Dorothy Somerset as the gentleman whohad so gallantly preserved the lives of the children at the hazard ofhis own. 

Notwithstanding the lofty tossings of Miss Dundas's head, the goodold maid paid him several encomiums on his intrepidity; and tellinghim that the sufferers were the wife and family of a poor tradesman, who was then absent in the country, she added, "But we saw themcomfortably lodged before we left them; and all the time we stayed, Icould not help congratulating myself on the easy compliance of Marywith my whims. I dislike sleeping at an inn; and to prevent it then, I had prevailed on Miss Beaufort to pursue our road to town eventhrough the night. It was lucky it happened so, for I am certain Marywill not allow these poor creatures a long lament over the wreck oftheir little property. "

"How charmingly charitable, my lovely friend!" cried Euphemia; "letus make a collection for this unfortunate woman and her babes. Pray, as a small tribute, take that from me!" She put five guineas into thehand of the glowing Mary. 

The ineffable grace with which the confused Miss Beaufort laid themoney on her aunt's knee did not escape the observance of Thaddeus;neither did the unintended approbation of his eye pass unnoticed byits amiable object. 

When Lady Tinemouth was informed that evening by the count of theaddition to the Harley Street party, she was delighted at the news, saying she had been well acquainted with Miss Dorothy and her nieceduring the lifetime of Lady Somerset, and would take an early day tocall upon them. During this part of her ladyship's discourse, anadditional word or two had unfolded to her auditor the familyconnection that had subsisted between the lady she regretted and hisestranged friend. And when the countess paused, Thaddeus, struck witha forgiving pity at this intelligence, was on the point of expressinghis concern that Pembroke Somerset had lost so highly-prized amother; but recollecting that Lady Tinemouth was ignorant of theirever having known each other, he allowed her to proceed without aremark. 

"I never have been in company with Sir Robert's son, " continued thecountess; "it was during his absence on the Continent that I wasintroduced to Lady Somerset. She was a woman who possessed the raretalent of conforming herself to all descriptions of people; andwhilst the complacency of her attentions surpassed the most refinedflattery, she commanded the highest veneration for herself. Hence youmay imagine my satisfaction in an acquaintance which it is probablewould never have been mine had I been the happy Countess ofTinemouth, instead of a deserted wife. Though the Somersets arerelated to my lord, they had long treated him as a stranger; anddoubly disgusted at his late behavior, they commenced a friendshipwith me, I believe, to demonstrate more fully their detestation ofhim. Indeed, my husband is a creature of inconsistency. No manpossessed more power to attract friends than Lord Tinemouth, and noman had less power to retain them; as fast as he made one he offendedthe other, and has at last deprived himself of every individual outof his own house who would not regard his death as a fortunatecircumstance. "

"But, Lady Somerset, " cried Thaddeus, impatient to change a subjectevery word of which was a dagger to his heart, "I mean Miss DorothySomerset, Miss Beaufort--"

"Yes, " returned her ladyship; "I see, kind Mr. Constantine, yourfriendly solicitude to disengage me from retrospections so painful!Well, then, I knew and very much esteemed the two ladies you mention;but after the death of Lady Somerset, their almost constant residencein the country has greatly prevented a renewal of this pleasure. However, as they are now in town, I will thank you to acquaint themwith my intention to call upon them in Harley Street. I rememberalways thinking Miss Beaufort a very charming girl. "

Thaddeus thought her more. He saw that she was beautiful; he hadwitnessed instances of her goodness, and the recollection filled hismind with a complacency the more tender since it had so long been astranger to his bosom; and again he felt the strange emotion whichhad passed over his heart at their first meeting. But furtherobservations were prevented by the entrance of Miss Egerton and LadySara Ross. 

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Constantine, " cried the lively Sophia, shaking hands with him; "you are the very person I have been plottingagainst. "

Lady Tinemouth was uneasy at the care with which Lady Sara avertedher face, well knowing that it was to conceal the powerful agitationof her features, which always took place at the sight of Thaddeus. 

"What is your plot, Miss Egerton?" inquired he; "I shall considermyself honored by your commands, and do not require a conspiracy toentrap my obedience. "

"That's a good soul! Then I have only to apply to you, LadyTinemouth. Your ladyship must know, " cried she, "that as Lady Saraand I were a moment ago driving up the Haymarket, I nodded to Mr. Coleman, who was coming out of the playhouse. He stopped, I pulledthe check-string, and we had a great deal of confab out of thewindow. He tells me a new farce is to come out this day week, and hehoped I would be there! 'No, ' said I, 'I cannot, for I am on a visitwith that precise body, the Countess of Tinemouth, who would not, tosave you and all your generation, come into such a mob, ' 'Herladyship shall have my box, ' cried he; 'for I would not for the worldlose the honor of your opinion on the merits of my farce. ' 'To besure not!' cries I; so I accepted his box, and drove off, devisingwith Lady Sara how to get your ladyship as our chaperon and Mr. Constantine to be our beau. He has just promised; so dear LadyTinemouth, don't be inflexible!"

Thaddeus was confounded at the dilemma into which his readyacquiescence had involved his prudence. The countess shook her head. 

"Now I declare, Lady Tinemouth, " exclaimed Miss Egerton, "this is anabsolute stingy fit! You are afraid of your purse! You know thisprivate box precludes all awkward meetings, and you can have noexcuse. "

"But it cannot preclude all awkward sights, " answered her ladyship. "You know, Sophia, I never go into public, for fear of being met bythe angry looks of my lord or my son. "

"Disagreeable people!" cried Miss Egerton, pettishly; "I wish somefriendly whirlwind would take your lord and son out of the worldtogether. "

"Sophia!" retorted her ladyship, with a grave air. 

"Rebuke me, Lady Tinemouth, if you like; I confess I am no Serena, and these trials of temper don't agree with my constitution. There, "cried she, throwing a silver medal on the table, and laughing inspite of herself: "there is our passport; but I will send it back, and so break poor Coleman's heart. "

"Fie! Sophia, " answered her ladyship, patting her half-angry cheeks;"would you owe to your petulance what was denied to your good humor?"

"Then your ladyship will go!" exclaimed she, exultingly. "You haveyielded; these sullens were a part of my stratagem, and I won't letyou secede. "

Lady Tinemouth thought this would be a fair opportunity to show oneof the theatres to her young friend, without involving him in expenseor obligation, and accordingly she gave her consent. 

"Do you intend to favor us with your company, Lady Sara?" asked thecountess, with a hope that she might refuse. 

Lady Sara, who had been standing silently at the window, ratherproudly answered--

"Yes, madam, if you will honor me with your protection. "

Lady Tinemouth was the only one present who understood the resentmentwhich these words conveyed; and, almost believing that she had gonetoo far, by implying suspicion, she approached her with a pleadinganxiety of countenance. "Then, Lady Sara, perhaps you will dine withme? I mean to call on Miss Dorothy Somerset, and would invite her tobe of the party. "

Lady Sara curtseyed her acceptance of the invitation, and, smiling, appeared to think no more of the matter. But she neither forgot itnor found herself able to forgive Lady Tinemouth for having betrayedher into a confidence which her own turbulent passions had made buttoo easy. She had listened unwillingly to the reasonable declarationof the countess, that her only way to retreat from an error whichthreatened criminality was to avoid the object. 

"When a married woman, " observed her ladyship, in that confidentialconference, "is so unhappy as to love any man besides her husband, her only safety rests in the resolution to quit his society, and tobanish his image whenever it obtrudes. "

Lady Sara believed herself incapable of this exertion, and hated thewoman who thought it necessary. By letter and conversation LadyTinemouth tried to display in every possible light the enormity ofgiving encouragement to such an attachment, and ended with theunanswerable climax--the consideration of her duty to Heaven. 

Of this argument Lady Sara knew little. She never reflected on thetrue nature of religion, though she sometimes went to church, repeated the prayers, without being conscious of their spirit; andwhen the coughing, sneezing, and blowing of noses which commonlyaccompany the text subsided, she generally called up the remembranceof the last ball, or an anticipation of the next assembly, to amuseherself until the prosing business was over. From church she drove tothe Park, where, bowling round the ring, or sauntering in thegardens, she soon forgot that there existed in the universe a Powerof higher consequence to please than her own vanity--and theadmiration of the spectators. 

Lady Sara would have shuddered at hearing any one declare himself adeist, much more an atheist; but for any influence which her nominalbelief held over her desires, she might as well have been either. Shenever committed an action deserving the name of premeditated injury, nor went far out of her way to do her best friend a service, --notbecause she wanted inclination, but she ceased to remember both thepetitioner and his petition before he had been five minutes from hersight. She had read as much as most fine ladies have read: a fewhistories, a few volumes of essays, a few novels, and now and then alittle poetry comprised the whole range of her studies; these, withmorning calls and evening assemblies, occupied her whole day. Suchhad been the routine of her life until she met the once "young star"of Poland, Thaddeus Sobieski, in an unknown exile, an almost namelessguest, at Lady Tinemouth's, which event caused a total revolution inher mind and conduct. 

The strength of Lady Sara's understanding might have credited abetter education; but her passions bearing an equal power with thismental vigor, and having taken a wrong direction, she neitheracknowledged the will nor the capability to give the empire to herreason. When love really entered her heart, its first conquest wasover her universal vanity; she surrendered all her admirers, in thehope of securing the admiration of Thaddeus; its second victorymastered her discretion; she revealed her unhappy affection to LadyTinemouth, and more than hinted it to himself. What had she else tolose? She believed her honor to be safer than her life. Her_honor_ was the term. She had no conception, or, at best, afaint one, that a breach of the marriage vow could be an outrage onthe laws of Heaven. The word sin had been gradually ignored by theoligarchy of fashion, from the hour in which Charles the Second andhis profligate court trod down piety with hypocrisy; and in this daythe new philosophy has accomplished its total outlawry, denouncing itas a rebel to decency and the freedom of man. 

Thus, the Christian religion being driven from the haunts of thegreat, pagan morality is raised from that prostration where, Dagon-like, it fell at the feet of the Scriptures, and is again erected asthe idol of adoration. Guilt against Heaven fades before the decreesof man; his law of ethics reprobates crime. But crime is only atemporal transgression, in opposition to the general good; it drawsno consequent punishment heavier than the judgment of a broken humanlaw, or the resentment of the offended private parties. Moralityneither promises rewards after death nor denounces futurechastisement for error. The disciples of this independent doctrinehold forth instances of the perfectibility of human actions, producedby the unassisted decisions of human intellect on the limits of rightand wrong. They admire virtue, because it is beautiful. They practiceit, because it is heroic. They do not abstain from the gratificationof an intemperate wish under the belief that it is sinful, but inobedience to their reason, which rejects the commission of a viciousact because it is uncomely. In the first case, God is their judge; inthe latter, themselves. The comparison need only be proposed, tohumble the pride that made it necessary. How do these systematizersrefine and subtilize? How do they dwell on the principle of virtue, and turn it in every metaphysical light, until their philosophyrarifies it to nothing! Some degrade, and others abandon, the onlybasis on which an upright character can stand with firmness. Thebulwark which Revelation erected between the passions and the soul islevelled first; and then that instinctive rule of right which themodern casuist denominates the citadel of virtue falls of course. 

By such gradations the progress of depravity is accomplished; and thegeneral leaven having worked to Lady Sara's mind on such premises, (though she might not arrange them so distinctly, ) she deduced thatwhat is called conjugal right is a mere establishment of man, andmight be extended or limited by him to any length he pleased. Forinstance, the Turks were not content with one wife, but appropriatedhundreds to one man; and because such indulgence was permitted byMohammed, no other nation presumed to call them culpable. 

Hence she thought that if she could once reconcile herself to believethat her own happiness was dearer to her than the notice of half athousand people to whom she was indifferent; that only in theiropinion and the world's her flying to the protection of Thaddeuswould be crime;--could she confidently think this, what should deterher from instantly throwing herself into the arms of the man sheloved? [Footnote: Such were the moral tactics for human conduct atthe commencement of this century. But, thanks to the patience of God, he has given a better spirit to the present age, --to his philosophyan admirable development of the wisdom and beneficence of his works, instead of the former metaphysical vanities and contradictorybewilderments of opinions concerning the divine nature and theelements of man, which, as far as a demon-spirit could go, hadplunged the created world, both physically and morally, into thedarkness of chaos again. The Holy Scriptures are now the foundationstudies of our country, and her ark is safe. --1845. ]

"Ah!" cried the thus self-deluded Lady Sara, one night, as shetraversed her chamber in a paroxysm of tears; "what are the vows Ihave sworn? How can I keep them? I have sworn to love, to honorCaptain Ross; but in spite of myself, without any action of my own, Ihave broken both these oaths. I cannot love him; I hate him; and Icannot honor the man I hate. What have I else to break? Nothing. Nynuptial vow is as completely annihilated as if I had left him neverto return. How?" cried she, after a pause of some minutes, "how shallI know what passes in the mind of Constantine? Did he love me, wouldhe protect me, I would brave the whole universe. Oh, I should be thehappiest of the happy!"

Fatal conclusion of reflection! It infected her dreaming and herwaking fancy. She regarded everything as an enemy that opposed herpassion; and as the first of these enemies, she detested LadyTinemouth. The countess's last admonishing letter enraged her by itsarguments; and, throwing it into the fire with execrations and tears, she determined to pursue her own will, but to affect being influencedby her ladyship's counsels. 

The Count Sobieski, who surmised not the hundredth part of theinfatuation of Lady Sara, began to hope that her ardent manner hadmisled him, or that she had seen the danger of such imprudence. 

Under these impressions, the party for the theatre was settled; andThaddeus, after sitting an hour in Grosvenor Place, returned to hishumble home, and attendance on his venerated friend. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

MARY BEAUFORT AND HER VENERABLE AUNT. 

The addition of Miss Dorothy Somerset and Miss Beaufort to themorning group at Lady Dundas's imparted a less reluctant motion tothe before tardy feet of the count, whenever he turned them towardsHarley Street. 

Miss Dorothy readily supposed him to have been better born than heappeared; and displeased with the treatment he had received from MissDundas and her guests, behaved to him herself with the mostgratifying politeness. 

Aunt Dorothy (for that was the title by which every branch of thebaronet's family addressed her) was full twenty years the senior ofher brother, Sir Robert Somerset. Having in her youth been thoughtvery like the famous and lovely Mrs. Woffington, she had beenconsidered the beauty of her time, and, as such, for ten yearscontinued the reigning belle. Nevertheless, she arrived at the age, of seventy-two without having been either the object or the subjectof a fervent passion. 

Possessing a fine understanding, a refined taste, and fine feelings, by some chance she had escaped love. It cannot be denied that she wasmuch admired, much respected, and much esteemed, and that shereceived two or three splendid proposals from men of rank. Some ofthose men she admired, some she respected, and some she esteemed, butnot one did she love, and she successively refused them all. Shortlyafter their discharge, they generally consoled themselves by marryingother women, who, perhaps, wanted both the charms and the sense ofMiss Somerset; yet she congratulated them on their choice, andusually became the warm friend of the happy couple. 

Thus year passed over year; Miss Somerset continued the esteemed ofevery worthy heart, though she could not then kindle the embers of alivelier glow in any one of them; and at the epoch called a_certain age_, she found herself an old maid, but possessing somuch good humor and affection towards the young people about her, shedid not need any of her own to mingle in the circle. 

This amiable old lady usually took her knitting into the librarybefore the fair students; and whenever Thaddeus entered the room, (sonatural is it for generous natures to sympathize, ) his eyes firstsought her venerable figure; then glancing around to catch anassuring beam from the lovely countenance of her niece, he seatedhimself with confidence. 

The presence of these ladies operated as a more than sufficientantidote to the disagreeableness of his situation. To them hedirected all the attention that was not required by his occupation;he heard them only speak when a hundred others were talking; he sawthem only when a hundred others were in company. 

In addition to this pleasant change, Miss Euphemia's passion assumeda less tormenting form. She had been reading Madame d'Arblay'sCamilla; and becoming enamored of the delicacy and pensive silence ofthe interesting heroine, she determined on adopting the samecharacter; and at the same time taking it into her ever-creativebrain that Constantine's coldness bore a striking affinity to thecaution of Edgar Mandelbert, she wiped the rouge from her prettyface, and prepared to "let concealment, like a worm in the bud, feedon her damask cheek. "

To afford decorous support to this fancy, her gayest clothes werethrown aside, to make way for a negligence of apparel which cost hertwo hours each morning to compose. Her dimpling smiles were now quitebanished. She was ever sighing, and ever silent, and ever lolling andleaning about; reclining along sofas, or in some disconsolateattitude, grouping herself with one of the marble urns, and sitting"like Patience on a monument smiling at grief. "

Thaddeus preferred this pathetic whim to her former Sapphic follies;it afforded him quiet, and relieved him from much embarrassment. 

Every succeeding visit induced Miss Beaufort to observe him with amore lively interest. The nobleness yet humility with which hebehaved towards herself and her aunt, and the manly serenity withwhich he suffered the insulting sarcasms of Miss Dundas, led her notmerely to conceive but to entertain many doubts that his presentsituation was that of his birth. 

The lady visitors who dropped in on the sisters' studies were notbackward in espousing the game of ridicule, as it played away a fewminutes, to join in a laugh with the "witty Diana. " These graciousbeings thought their sex gave them privilege to offend; but it wasnot always that the gentlemen durst venture beyond a shrug of theshoulder, a drop of the lip, a wink of the eye, or a raising of thebrows. Mary observed with contempt that they were prudent enough notto exercise even these specimens of a mean hostility except when itsnoble object had turned his back, and regarding him with increasedadmiration, she was indignant, and then disdainful, at the envy whichactuated these men to treat with affected scorn him whom theysecretly feared. 

[Illustration: MISS EUPHEMIA DUNDAS. ]

The occasional calls of Lady Tinemouth and Miss Egerton stimulatedthe cabal against Thaddeus. The sincere sentiment of equality withthemselves which these two ladies evinced by their behavior to him, and the same conduct being adopted by Miss Dorothy and her beautifulniece, besides the evident partiality of Euphemia, altogetherinflamed the spleen of Miss Dundas, and excited her _coterie_ toacts of the most extravagant rudeness. 

The little phalanx, at the head of which was the superb Diana, couldoffer no real reason for disliking a man who was not only theirinferior, but who had never offended them even by implication. It wasa sufficient apology to their easy consciences that "he gave himselfsuch courtly airs as were quite ridiculous--that his presumption wasastonishing. In short, they were all idle, and it was exceedinglyamusing to lounge a morning with the rich Dundases and hoaxMonsieur. "

Had Thaddeus known one fourth of the insolent derision with which hismisfortunes were treated behind his back, perhaps even his friend'snecessity could not have detained him in his employment. Thebrightness of a brave man's name makes shadows perceptible whichmight pass unmarked over a duller surface. Sobieski's delicate honorwould have supposed itself sullied by enduring such contumely withtoleration. But, as was said before, the male adjuncts of Miss Dundashad received so opportune a warning from an accidental knitting ofthe count's brow, they never after could muster temerity to sporttheir wit to his face. 

These circumstances were not lost upon Mary; she collected them aspart of a treasure, and turned them over on her pillow with thejealous examination of a miser. Like Euphemia, she supposed Thaddeusto be other than he seemed. Yet her fancy did not suppose him giftedwith the blood of the Bourbons; she merely believed him to be agentleman; and from the maternal manner of Lady Tinemouth towardshim, she suspected that her ladyship knew more of his history thanshe chose to reveal. 

Things were in this state, when the countess requested that MissDorothy would allow her niece to make one in her party to theHaymarket Theatre. The good lady having consented, Miss Beaufortreceived the permission with pleasure; and as she was to sup inGrosvenor Place, she ventured to hope that something might fall fromher hostess or Miss Egerton which would throw a light on the truesituation of Mr. Constantine. 

From infancy Miss Beaufort had loved with enthusiasm all kinds ofexcellence. Indeed, she esteemed no person warmly whom she did nothink exalted by their virtues above the common race of mankind. Shesought for something to respect in every character; and when shefound anything to greatly admire, her ardent soul blazed, and by itsown pure flame lit her to a closer inspection of the object aboutwhom she had become more than usually interested. 

In former years Lady Somerset collected all the virtue and talent inthe country around her table, and it was now found that they were notbrought there on a vain errand. From them Miss Beaufort gathered herbest lessons in conduct and taste, and from them her earliestperceptions of friendship. Mary was the beloved pupil and respectedfriend of the brightest characters in England; and though some ofthem were men who had not passed the age of forty, she never had beenin love, nor had she mistaken the nature of her esteem so far as tocall it by that name. Hence she was neither afraid nor ashamed toacknowledge a correspondence she knew to be her highest distinction. But had the frank and innocent Mary exhibited half the likeattentions which she paid to these men in one hour to the commonclass of young men through the course of a month, they would havedeclared that the poor girl was over head and ears in love with them, and have pitied what they would have justly denominated her folly. Foolish must that woman be who would sacrifice the most precious giftin her possession--her heart--to the superficial graces or emptyblandishments of a self-idolized coxcomb!

Such a being was not Mary Beaufort; and on these principles shecontemplated the extraordinary fine qualities she saw in the exiledThaddeus with an interest honorable to her penetration and her heart. 

When Miss Egerton called with Lady Sara Ross to take Miss Beaufort tothe Haymarket, Mary was not displeased at seeing Mr. Constantine stepout of the carnage to hand her in. During their drive, Miss Egertoninformed her that Lady Tinemouth had been suddenly seized with aheadache, but that Lady Sara had kindly undertaken to be theirchaperon, and had promised to return with them to sup in GrosvenorPlace. 

Lady Sara had never seen Mary, though she had frequently heard of herbeauty and vast fortune. This last qualification her ladyship hopedmight have given an unmerited _éclat_ to the first; thereforewhen she saw in Miss Beaufort the most beautiful creature she hadever beheld, nothing could equal her surprise and vexation. 

The happy lustre that beamed in the fine eyes of Mary shone like avivifying influence around her; a bright glow animated her cheek, whilst a pleasure for which she did not seek to account bounded ather heart, and modulated every tone of her voice to sweetness andenchantment. 

"Syren!" thought Lady Sara, withdrawing her large dark eyes from herface, and turning them full of dissolving languor upon Thaddeus;"here are all thy charms directed!" then drawing a sigh, so deep thatit made her neighbor start, she fixed her eyes on her fan, and neverlooked up again until they had reached the playhouse. 

The curtain was raised as the little party seated themselves in thebox. 

"Can anybody tell me what the play is?" asked Lady Sara. 

"I never thought of inquiring, " replied Sophia. 

"I looked in the newspaper this morning, " said Miss Beaufort, "and Ithink it is called _Sighs_, --a translation from a drama ofKotzebue's. "

"A strange title!" was the general observation. When Mr. Suett, whopersonated one of the characters, began to speak, their attention wassummoned to the stage. 

On the entrance of Mr. Charles Kemble in the character of Adelbert, the count unconsciously turned pale. He perceived by the dress of theactor that he was to personate a Pole; and alarmed at the probabilityof seeing something to recall recollections which he had striven tobanish, his agitation did not allow him to hear anything that wassaid for some minutes. 

Miss Egerton was not so tardy in the use of her eyes and ears; andstretching out her hand to the back of the box, where Thaddeus wasstanding by Lady Sara's chair, she caught hold of his sleeve. 

"There, Mr. Constantine!" cried she; "look at Adelbert! that isexactly the figure you cut in your outlandish gear two months ago. "

Thaddeus bowed with a forced smile, and glancing at the stage, replied--

"Then, for the first time in my life, I regret having followed alady's advice; I think I must have lost by the change. "

"Yes, " rejoined she, "you have lost much fur and much embroidery, butyou now look much more like a Christian. '"

The substance of these speeches was not lost on Mary, who continuedwith redoubling interest to mark the changes his countenanceunderwent along with the scene. As she sat forward, by a slight turnof the head she could discern the smallest fluctuation in hisfeatures, and they were not a few. Placing himself at the back ofLady Sara's chair, he leaned over, with his soul set in his eye, watching every motion of Mr. Charles Kemble. 

Mary knew, by some accidental words from Lady Tinemouth, thatConstantine was a Polander, and the surmise she had entertained ofhis being unfortunate received full corroboration at the scene inwhich Adelbert is grossly insulted by the rich merchant. During thewhole of it, she scarcely dared trust her eyes towards Constantine'sflushed and agitated face. 

The interview between Adelbert and Leopold commenced. When the formerwas describing his country's miseries with his own, Thaddeus unableto bear it longer, unobserved by any but Mary, drew back into thebox. In a moment or two afterwards Mr. Charles Kemble made thefollowing reply to an observation of Leopold's, that "poverty is nodishonor. "

"Certainly none to me! To Poland, to my struggling country, Isacrificed my wealth, as I would have sacrificed my life if she hadrequired it. My country is no more; and we are wanderers on aburdened earth, finding no refuge but in the hearts of the humane andvirtuous. "

The passion and force of these words could not fail of reaching theears of Thaddeus. Mary's attention followed them to their object, bythe heaving of whose breast she plainly discovered the anguish oftheir effect. Her heart beat with increased violence. How willinglywould she have approached him, and said something of sympathy, ofconsolation! but she durst not; and she turned away her tearful eye, and looked again towards the stage. 

Lady Sara now stood up, and hanging over Mary's chair, listened withcongenial emotions to the scene between Adelbert and the innocentRose. Lady Sara felt it all in her own bosom; and looking round tocatch what was passing in the count's mind, she beheld him leaningagainst the box, with his head inclined to the curtain of the door. "Mr. Constantine!" almost unconsciously escaped her lips. He started, and discovered by the humidity on his eyelashes why he had withdrawn. Her ladyship's tears were gliding down her cheeks. Miss Egerton, greatly amazed at the oddness of this closet scene, turned to MissBeaufort, who a moment before having caught a glimpse of thedistressed countenance of the count, could only bow her head toSophia's sportive observation. 

Who is there that can enter into the secret folds of the heart andknow all its miseries? Who participate in that joy which dissolvesand rarifies man to the essence of heaven? Soul must mingle withsoul, and the ethereal voice of spirits must speak before thesethings can be comprehended. 

Ready to suffocate with the emotions she repelled from her eyes, Marygladly affected to be absorbed in the business of the stage, (not oneobject of which she now saw), and with breathless attention lost notone soft whisper which Lady Sara poured into the ear of Thaddeus. 

"Why, " asked her ladyship, in a tremulous and low tone, "why shouldwe seek ideal sorrows, when those of our own hearts are beyondalleviation? Happy Rose!" sighed her ladyship. "Mr. Constantine, "continued she, "do not you think that Adelbert is consoled, at least, by the affection of that lovely woman?"

Like Miss Beaufort, Constantine had hitherto replied with bows only. 

"Come, " added Lady Sara, laying her soft hand on his arm, andregarding him with a look of tenderness, so unequivocal that he casthis eyes to the ground, while its sympathy really touched his heart. "Come, " repeated she, animated by the faint color which tinged hischeek; "you know that I have the care of this party, and I must notallow our only _cavalier_ to be melancholy. "

"I beg your pardon, Lady Sara, " returned he, gratefully pressing thehand that yet rested on his arm; "I am not very well. I wish that Ihad not seen this play. "

Lady Sara sunk into the seat from which she had risen. He had neverbefore taken her hand, except when assisting her to her carriage;this pressure shook her very soul, and awakened hopes which renderedher for a moment incapable of sustaining herself or venturing areply. 

There was something in the tones of Lady Sara's voice and in hermanner far more expressive than her words: mutual sighs whichbreathed from her ladyship's bosom and that of Thaddeus, as they satdown, made a cold shiver run from the head to the foot of MissBeaufort. Mary's surprise at the meaning of this emotion caused asecond tremor, and with a palpitating heart she asked herself a fewquestions. 

Could this interesting young man, whom every person of sense appearedto esteem and respect, sully his virtues by participating in apassion with a married woman? No; it was impossible. 

Notwithstanding this decision, so absolute in his exculpation, herpure heart felt a trembling, secret resolve, "even for the sake ofthe honor of human nature, " (she whispered to herself), to observehim so hereafter as to be convinced of the real worth of hisprinciples before she would allow any increase of the interest hisapparently reversed fate had created in her compassionate bosom. 

What might be altogether the extent of that "reversed fate, " shecould form no idea. For though she had heard, in common with the restof the general society, of the recent "melancholy fate of Poland!"she knew little of its particulars, politics of every kind, andespecially about foreign places, being an interdicted subject in thedrawing-rooms of Sir Robert Somerset. Therefore the simply noble mindof Mary thought more of the real nobility that might dwell in thesoul of this expatriated son of that country than of the possibleappendages of rank he might have left there. 

With her mind full of these reflections, she awaited the farcewithout observing it when it appeared. Indeed, none of the party knewanything about the piece (to see which they had professedly come tothe theatre) excepting Miss Egerton, whose ever merry spirits hadenjoyed alone the humor of Totum in the play, and who now laughedheartily, though unaccompanied, through the ridiculous whims of thefarce. 

Nothing that passed could totally disengage the mind of Thaddeus fromthose remembrances which the recent drama had aroused. When themelting voice of Lady Sara, in whispers, tried to recall hisattention, by a start only did he evince his recollection of notbeing alone. Sensible, however, to the kindness of her motive, heexerted himself; and by the time the curtain dropped, he had so farrallied his presence of mind as to be able to attend to the civilityof seeing the ladies safe out of the theatre. 

Miss Egerton, laughing, as he assisted her into the carriage, said, "I verily believe, Mr. Constantine, had I glanced round during theplay, I should have seen as pretty a lachrymal scene between you andLady Sara as any on the stage. I won't have this flirting! I declareI will tell Captain Ross--"

She continued talking; but turning about to offer his service to MissBeaufort, he heard no more. 

Miss Beaufort, however self-composed in thought, felt strangely: shefelt cold and reserved; and undesignedly she appeared what she felt. There was a grave dignity in her air, accompanied with acollectedness and stillness in her before animated countenance, whichastonished and chilled Thaddeus, though she had bowed her head andgiven him her hand to put her into the coach. 

On their way home Miss Egerton ran over the merits of the play andfarce; rallied Thaddeus on the "tall Pole, " which she threatenedshould be his epithet whenever he offended her; and then, flying fromsubject to subject, talked herself and her hearers so weary, thatthey internally rejoiced when the carriage stopped in GrosvenorPlace. 

After they had severally paid their respects to Lady Tinemouth, who, being indisposed, was lying on the sofa, she desired Thaddeus to drawa chair near her. 

"I want to learn, " said she, "what you think of our English theatre?"

"Prithee, don't ask him!" cried Miss Egerton, pouring out a glass ofwater; "we have seen a tremendous brother Pole of his, who I believehas 'hopped off' with all his spirits! Why, he has been looking asrueful as a half-drowned man all the night; and as for Lady Sara, andI could vow Miss Beaufort, too, they have been two Niobes--'alltears. ' So, good folks, I must drink better health to you, to savemyself from the vapors. "

"What is all this, Mr. Constantine?" asked the countess, addressingThaddeus, whose eyes had glanced with a ray of delighted surprise onthe blushing though displeased face of Miss Beaufort. 

"My weakness, " replied he, commanding down a rising tremor in hisvoice, and turning to her ladyship; "the play relates to a native ofPoland, one who, like myself, an exile in a strange land, issubjected to sufferings and contumelies the bravest spirits may findhard to bear. Any man may combat misery; but even the most intrepidwill shrink from insult. This, I believe, is the sum of the story. Its resemblance in some points to my own affected me; and, " added he, looking gratefully at Lady Sara, and timidly towards Miss Beaufort, "if these ladies have sympathized with emotions against which Istrove, but could not entirely conceal, I owe to it the sweetestconsolation now in the power of fate to bestow. "

"Poor Constantine!" cried Sophia Egerton, patting his head with onehand, whilst with the other she wiped a tear from her always smilingeye, "forgive me if I have hurt you. I like you vastly, though I mustnow and then laugh at you; you know I hate dismals, so let this tuneenliven us all!" and flying to her piano, she played and sang two orthree merry airs, till the countess commanded her to the supper-table. 

At this most sociable repast of the whole day, cheerfulness seemedagain to disperse the gloom which had threatened the circle. Thaddeusset the example. His unrestrained and elegant conversation acquirednew pathos from the anguish that was driven back to his heart; likethe beds of rivers, which infuse their own nature with the current, his hidden grief imparted an indescribable interest and charm to allhis sentiments and actions. [Footnote: When this was written, (in theyear 1804, ) domestic hours were earlier; and the "supper hour" hadnot then dissipation and broken rest for a consequence. ]

Mary now beheld him in his real character. Unmolested by the haughtypresence of Miss Dundas, he became unreserved, intelligent, andenchanting. He seemed master of every subject talked on, anddiscoursed on all with a grace which corroborated her waking visionsthat he was as some bright star fallen from his sphere. 

With the increase of Miss Beaufort's admiration of the count's finetalents, she gradually lost the recollection of what had occupied hermind relative to Lady Sara; and her own beautiful countenancedilating into confidence and delight, the evening passed away withchastened pleasure, until the little party separated for theirseveral homes. 

Lady Tinemouth was more than ever fascinated by the lovely MissBeaufort. Miss Beaufort was equally pleased with the animation of thecountess; but when she thought on Thaddeus, she was surprised, interested, absorbed. 

Lady Sara Ross's reflections were not less delightful. She dwelt withredoubled passion on that look from the count's eyes, that touch ofhis hand, which she thought were signs of a reciprocal awakenedflame. Both actions were forgotten by him the moment after they werecommitted; yet he was not ungrateful; but whilst he acknowledged hergenerous sympathy at that time, he could not but see that she wasstraying to the verge of a precipice which no thoroughly virtuouswoman should ever venture to approach. 

He found a refuge from so painful a meditation in the idea of theingenuous Mary, on whose modest countenance virtue seemed to have"set her seal. " Whilst recollecting the pitying kindness of her voiceand looks, his heart owned the empire of purity, and in thecontemplation of her unaffected excellence, he the more deplored thewitcheries of Lady Sara, and the dangerous uses to which herimpetuous feelings addressed them. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XXIX. 

HYDE PARK. 

Next morning, when Thaddeus approached the general's bed to give himhis coffee, he found him feverish, and his mind more than usuallyunsettled. 

The count awaited with anxiety the arrival of the benevolentCavendish, whom he expected. When he appeared, he declared hisincreased alarm. Dr. Cavendish having felt the patient's pulse, expressed a wish that he could be induced to take a little exercise. Thaddeus had often urged this necessity to his friend, but met withconstant refusals. He hopelessly repeated the entreaty now, when, tohis surprise and satisfaction, the old man instantly consented. 

Having seen him comfortably dressed, (for the count attended to theseminutiae with the care of a son, ) the doctor said they must ride withhim to Hyde Park, where he would put them out to walk until he hadmade a visit to Piccadilly, whence he would return and take themhome. 

The general not only expressed pleasure at the drive, but as the airwas warm and balmy, (it being about the beginning of June, ) he madeno objection to the proposed subsequent walk. 

He admired the Park, the Serpentine River, the cottages on its bank, and seemed highly diverted by the horsemen and carriages in the ring. The pertinence of his remarks afforded Thaddeus a ray of hope thathis senses had not entirely lost their union with reason; and withawakened confidence he was contemplating what might be the happyeffects of constant exercise, when the general's complaints ofweariness obliged him to stop near Piccadilly Gate, and wait thearrival of the doctor's coach. 

He was standing against the railing, supporting Butzou. And with hishat in his hand shading his aged friend's face from the sun, when twoor three carriages driving in, he met the eye of Miss EuphemiaDundas, who pulling the check-string, exclaimed, "Bless me, Mr. Constantine! Who expected to see you here? Why, your note told us youwere confined with a sick friend. "

Thaddeus bowed to her, and still sustaining the debilitated frame ofthe general on his arm, advanced to the side of the coach. MissBeaufort, who now looked out, expressed her hope that his invalid wasbetter. 

"This is the friend I mentioned, " said the count, turning his eyes onthe mild features of Butzou; "his physician having ordered him towalk, I accompanied him hither. "

"Dear me! how ill you look, sir, " cried Euphemia, addressing the poorinvalid; "but you are attended by a kind friend. "

"My dear lord!" exclaimed the old man, not regarding what she said, "I must go home. I am tired; pray call up the carriage. "

Euphemia was again opening her mouth to speak, but Miss Beaufort, perceiving a look of distress in the expressive features of Thaddeus, interrupted her by saying, "Good-morning! Mr. Constantine. I know wedetain you and oppress that gentleman, whose pardon we ought to beg. "She bowed her head to the general, whose white hairs were blowingabout his face, as he attempted to pull the count towards thepathway. 

"My friend cannot thank you, kind Miss Beaufort, " cried Thaddeus, with a look of gratitude that called the brightest roses to hercheeks; "but I do from my heart!"

"Here it is! Pray, my dear lord, come along!" cried Butzou. Thaddeus, seeing that his information was right, bowed to the ladies, and theircarriage drove off. 

Though the wheels of Lady Dundas's coach rolled away from theretreating figures of Thaddeus and his friend, the images of bothoccupied the meditations of Euphemia and Miss Beaufort whilst, _tete-à-tete_ and in silence, they made the circuit of the Park. 

When the carriage again passed the spot on which the subject of theirthoughts had stood, Mary almost mechanically looked out towards thegate. 

"Is he gone yet?" asked Euphemia, sighing deeply. 

Mary drew in her head with the quickness of conscious guilt; andwhilst a color stained her face, which of itself might have betrayedher prevarication, she asked, "Who?"

"Mr. Constantine, " replied Euphemia, with a second sigh. "Did youremark, Mary, how gracefully he supported that sick old gentleman?Was it not the very personification of Youth upholding the faintingsteps of Age? He put me in mind of the charming young prince, whosename I forget, leading the old Belisarius. "

"Yes, " returned Mary ashamed of the momentary insincerity couched inher former uncertain replying word, "Who?" yet still adding, whiletrying to smile, "but some people might call our ideas enthusiasm. "

"So all tell me, " replied Euphemia; "so all say who neither possessthe sensibility nor the candor to allow that great merit may existwithout being associated with great rank. Yet, " cried she, in a moreanimated tone, "I have my doubts, Mary, of his being what he seems. Did you observe the sick gentleman call him _My lord?_"

"I did, " returned Mary, "and I was not surprised. Such manners as Mr. Constantine's are not to be acquired in a cottage. "

"Dear, dear Mary!" cried Euphemia, flinging her ivory arms round herneck; "how I love you for these words! You are generous, you thinknobly, and I will no longer hesitate to--to--" and breaking off, shehid her head in Miss Beaufort's bosom. 

Mary's heart throbbed, her cheeks grew pale, and almost unconsciouslyshe wished to stop the tide of Miss Dundas's confidence. 

"Dear Euphemia!" answered she, "your regard for this interestingexile is very praiseworthy. But beware of----. " She hesitated; aremorseful twitch in her own breast stayed the warning that wasrising to her tongue; and blushing at a motive she could not at theinstant assign to friendship, selfishness, or to any interest shewould not avow to herself, she touched the cheek of Euphemia with herquivering lips. 

Euphemia had finished the sentence for her, and raising her head, exclaimed, "What should I fear in esteeming Mr. Constantine? Is henot the most captivating creature in the world! And for his person!Oh, Mary, he is so beautiful, that when the library is filled withthe handsomest men in town, the moment Constantine enters, theirreign is over. I compare them with his godlike figure, and I feel asone looking at the sun; all other objects appear dim and shapeless. "

"I hope, " returned Mary, --pressing her own forehead with her hand, her head beginning to ache strangely, --"that Mr. Constantine does notowe your friendship to his fine person. I think his mental qualitiesare more deserving of such a gift. "

"Don't look so severe, dear Mary!" cried Miss Dundas, observing hercontracting brow; "are you displeased with me?"

Mary's displeasure was at the austerity of her own words, and not ather auditor. Raising her eyes with a smile, she gently replied, "I donot mean, my dear girl, to be severe; but I would wish, for the honorof our sex, that the objects which attract either our love or ourcompassion should have something more precious than mere exteriorbeauty to engage our interest. "

"Well, I will soon be satisfied, " cried Euphemia, in a gayer tone, asthey drove through Grosvenor Gate; "we all know that Constantine issensible and accomplished: he writes poetry like an angel, both inFrench and Italian. I have hundreds of mottoes composed by him; oneof them, Mary, is on the work-box I gave you yesterday; and, what ismore, I will ask him to-morrow why that old gentleman called him_My lord?_ It he be a lord!" exclaimed she. 

"What then?" inquired the eloquent eyes of Mary. 

"Don't look so impertinent, my dear, " cried the now animated beauty:"I positively won't say another word to you today. "

Miss Beaufort's headache became so painful, she rejoiced whenEuphemia ceased and the carriage drew up to Lady Dundas's door. 

A night of almost unremitted sleep performed such good effects on thegeneral condition of General Butzou, that Dr. Cavendish thought hispatient so much better as to sanction his hoping the bestconsequences from a frequent repetition of air and exercise. When thedrive and walk had accordingly been repeated the following day, Thaddeus left his friend to his maps, and little Nanny's attendance, and once more took the way to Harley Street. 

He found only Miss Dundas with her sister in the study. Mary (againsther will, which she opposed because it was her will) had gone outshopping with Miss Dorothy and Lady Dundas. 

Miss Dundas left the room the moment she had finished her lessons. 

Delighted at being _tete-à-tete_ with the object of her romanticfancies, Euphemia forgot that she was to act the retreating characterof Madame d'Arblay's heroine; and shutting her book the instant Dianadisappeared, all at once opened her attack on his confidence. 

To her eager questions, which the few words of the general hadexcited, the count afforded no other reply than that his poor friendknew not what he said, having been a long time in a state of mentalderangement. 

This explanation caused a momentary mortification in the imaginativeEuphemia; but her busy mind was nimble in its erection of airycastles, and she rallied in a moment with the idea that "he might bemore than a lord. " At any rate, let him be what he may, he charmedher; and he had much ado to parry the increasing boldness of herspeeches, without letting her see they were understood. 

"You are very diffident, Mr. Constantine, " cried she, looking down. "If I consider you worthy of my friendship, why should _you_make disqualifying assertions?"

"Every man, madam, " returned Thaddeus, bowing as he rose from hischair, "must be diffident of deserving the honor of your notice. "

"There is no man living, " replied she, "to whom I would offer myfriendship but yourself. "

Thaddeus bit his lip; he knew not what to answer. Bowing a secondtime, he stretched out his hand and drew his hat towards him. Euphemia's eyes followed the movement. 

"You are in a prodigious haste, Mr. Constantine!"

"I know I intrude, madam; and I have promised to be with my sickfriend at an early hour. "

"Well, you may go, since you are obliged, " returned the prettyEuphemia, rising, and smiling sweetly as she laid one hand on his armand put the other into her tucker. She drew out a little whiteleather _souvenir_, marked on the back in gold letters with thewords, "_Toujours cher_;" and slipping it into his hand, "There, receive that, _monsignor_, or whatever else you may be called, and retain it as the first pledge of Euphemia Dundas's friendship. "

Thaddeus colored as he took it; and again having recourse to theconvenient reply of a bow, left the room in embarrassed vexation. 

There was an indelicacy in this absolutely wooing conduct of MissEuphemia which, notwithstanding her beauty and the softness that wasits vehicle, filled him with the deepest disgust. He could not tracereal affection in her words or manner; and that any woman, instigatedby a mere whim, should lay aside the maidenly reserves of her sex, and actually court his regard, surprised whilst it impelled him toloathe her. 

They who adopt Euphemia's sentiments, --and, alas! there are some, --can be little aware of the conclusion which society infer from suchintemperate behavior. The mistaken creature who, either at theimpulsion of her own disposition or by the influence of example, isinduced to despise the guard of modesty, literally "forsakes theguide of her youth" and leaves herself open to every attack which mancan devise against her. By levelling the barrier raised by nature, she herself exposes the stronghold of virtue, and may find, too latefor recovery, that what modesty has abandoned is not long spared byhonor. 

Euphemia's affected attachment suggested to Thaddeus a few unpleasantrecollections respecting the fervent and unequivocal passion of LadySara. Though guilty, it sprung from a headlong ardor of dispositionwhich formed at once the error and its palliation. He saw that lovewas not welcomed by her (at least he thought so) as a plaything, butstruggled against as with a foe. He had witnessed her tortures; hepitied them, and to render her happy, would gladly have made anysacrifice short of his conscience. Too well assured of being all theworld to Lady Sara, the belief that Miss Euphemia liked him only fromidleness, caprice, and contradiction, caused him to repay herovertures with decided contempt. 

When he arrived at home, he threw on his table the pocket-book whoseunambiguous motto made him scorn her, and almost himself for beingthe object of such folly. Looking round his humble room, whosewicker-chairs, oil-cloth floor, and uncurtained windows announcedanything but elegance: "Poor Euphemia!" said he; "how would you bedismayed were the indigent Constantine to really take you at yourword, and bring you home to a habitation like this!"

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XXX. 

INFLUENCES OF CHARACTER. 

The recital of the preceding scene, which was communicated to MissBeaufort by Euphemia, filled her with still more doubting thoughts. 

Mary could discover no reason why the old gentleman's mentalderangement should dignify his friend with titles he had never borne. She remarked to herself that his answer to Euphemia was evasive; sheremembered his emotion and apology on seeing Mr. C. Kemble inAdelbert; and uniting with these facts his manners and acquirements, so far beyond the charges of any subordinate rank, she could finallyretain no doubt of his being at least well born. 

Thus this mysterious Constantine continued to occupy her hourlythoughts during the space of two months, in which time she had fullopportunity to learn much of a character with whom she associatedalmost every day. At Lady Tinemouth's (one of whose evening guestsshe frequently became) she beheld him disencumbered of that armor ofreserve which he usually wore in Harley Street. 

In the circle of the countess, Mary saw him welcomed like an idolizedbeing before whose cheering influence all frowns and clouds mustdisappear. When he entered, the smile resumed its seat on the languidfeatures of Lady Tinemouth; Miss Egerton's eye lighted up to keenerarchness; Lady Sara's Circassian orbs floated in pleasure; and forMary herself, her breast heaved, her cheeks glowed, her handstrembled, a quick sigh fluttered in her bosom; and whilst sheremained in his presence, she believed that happiness had lost itsusual evanescent property, and become tangible, to hold and pressupon her heart. 

Mary, who investigated the cause of these tremors on her pillow, bedewed it with delicious though bitter tears, when her alarmed soulwhispered that she nourished for this amiable foreigner "a somethingthan friendship dearer. "

"Ah! is it come to this?" cried she, pressing down her saturatedeyelids with her hand. "Am I at last to love a man who, perhaps, never casts a thought on me? How despicable shall I become in my owneyes!"

The pride of woman puts this charge to her taken heart--that heartwhich seems tempered of the purest clay, and warmed with the fire ofheaven; that tender and disinterested heart asks as its appeal--Whatis love? Is it not an admiration of all that is beautiful in natureand in the soul? Is it not a union of loveliness with truth? Is itnot a passion whose sole object is the rapture of contemplating thesupreme beauty of this combined character?

"Where, then, " cried the enthusiastic Mary, "where is the shame thatcan be annexed to my loving Constantine? If it be honorable to lovedelineated excellence, it must be equally so to love it when embodiedin a human shape. Such it is in Constantine; and if love be thereflected light of virtue, I may cease to arraign myself of thatwhich otherwise I would have scorned. Therefore, Constantine, " criedshe, raising her clasped hands, whilst renewed tears streamed overher face, "I will love thee! I will pray for thy happiness, thoughits partner should be Euphemia Dundas. "

Mary's eager imagination would not allow her to perceive thoseobstacles in the shapes of pride and prudence, which would stand inthe way of his obtaining Euphemia's hand; its light showed to heronly a rival in the person of the little beauty; but from her directconfidence she continued to retreat with abhorrence. 

Had Euphemia been more deserving of Constantine, Miss Beaufortbelieved she would have been less reluctant to hear that she lovedhim. But Mary could not avoid seeing that Miss E. Dundas possessedlittle to ensure connubial comfort, if mere beauty and accidentalflights of good humor were not to be admitted into the scale. She wasweak in understanding, timid in principle, absurd in almost everyopinion she adopted; and as for love, true, dignified, respectablelove, she knew nothing of the sentiment. 

Whilst Miss Beaufort meditated on this meagre schedule of her rival'smerits, the probability that even such a man as Constantine mightsacrifice himself to flattery and to splendor stung her to the soul. 

The more she reflected on it, the more she conceived it possible. Euphemia was considered a beauty of the day; her affectation ofrefined prettiness pleased many, and might charm Constantine: she wasmistress of fifty thousand pounds, and did not esteem it necessary toconceal from her favorite the empire he had acquired. Perhaps therewas generosity in this openness? If so, what might it not effect on agrateful disposition? or, rather, (her mortified heart murmured inthe words of her aunt Dorothy, ) "how might it not operate on the mindof one of that sex, which, at the best, is as often moved by capriceas by feeling. "

Mary blushed at her adoption of this opinion; and, angry with herselffor the injustice which a lurking jealousy had excited in her toapply to Constantine's noble nature, she resolved, whatever might beher struggles, to promote his happiness, though even with Euphemia, to the utmost of her power. 

The next morning, when Miss Beaufort saw the study door opened forher entrance, she found Mr. Constantine at his station, literallybaited between Miss Dundas and her honorable lover. At such momentsMary appeared the kindest of the kind. She loved to see Constantinesmile; and whenever she could produce that effect, by turning thespleen of these polite sneerers against themselves, his smiles, whichever entered her heart, afforded her a banquet for hours after hisdeparture. 

Mary drew out her netting, (which was a purse for Lady Tinemouth, )and taking a seat beside Euphemia, united with her to occupy hisattention entirely, that he might not catch even one of thoseinsolent glances which were passing between Lascelles and a newvisitant the pretty lady Hilliars. 

This lady seemed to take extreme pleasure in accosting Thaddeus bythe appellation of "Friend, " "My good man, " "Mr. What's-your-name, "and similar squibs of insult, with which the prosperous assail theunfortunate. Such random shots they know often inflict the mostgalling wounds. 

However, "Friend, " "My good man, " and "Mr. What's-your-name, "disappointed this lady's small artillery of effect. He seemedinvulnerable both to her insolence and to her affectation; for to bethought a wit, by even Miss Dundas's emigrant tutor, was not to bedespised; though at the very moment in which she desired hisadmiration, she supposed her haughtiness had impressed him with aproper sense of his own meanness and a high conception of herdignity. 

She jumped about the room, assumed infantine airs, played withEuphemia's lap-dag, fondled it, seated herself on the floor and sweptthe carpet with her fine flaxen tresses; but she performed theroutine of captivation in vain. Thaddeus recollected having seen thispretty full-grown baby, in her peculiar character of a profligatewife, pawning her own and her husband's property; he remembered this, and the united shafts of her charms and folly fell unnoticed to theground. 

When Thaddeus took his leave, Miss Beaufort, as was her custom, retired for an hour to read in her dressing-room, before she directedher attention to the toilet. She opened a book, and ran over a fewpages of Madame de Stael's Treatise on the Passions; but suchreasoning was too abstract for her present frame of mind, and shelaid the volume down. 

She dipped her pen in the inkstand. Being a letter in debt to herguardian, she thought she would defray it now. She accomplished "Mydear uncle, " and stopped. Whilst she rested on her elbow, and, heedless of what she was doing, picked the feather of her quill topieces, no other idea offered itself than the figure of Thaddeussitting 'severe in youthful beauty!' and surrounded by thecontumelies with which the unworthy hope to disparage the merit theycan neither emulate nor overlook. 

Uneasy with herself, she pushed the table away, and, leaning hercheek on her arm, gazed into the rainbow varieties of a beaupot offlowers which occupied the fireplace. Even their gay colors appearedto fade before her sight, and present to her vacant eye the form ofThaddeus, with the melancholy air which shaded his movements. Sheturned round, but could not disengage herself from the spirit thatwas within her; his half-suppressed sighs seemed yet to thrill in herear and weigh upon her heart. 

"Incomparable young man!" cried she, starting up, "why art thou sowretched? Oh! Lady Tinemouth, why have you told me of his manyvirtues? Why have I convinced myself that what you said is true? Oh!why was I formed to love an excellence which I never can approach?"

The natural reply to these self-demanded questions suggesting itself, she assented with a tear to the whisperings of her heart--that whencool, calculating reason would banish the affections, it is incapableof filling their place. 

She rang the bell for her maid. 

"Marshall, who dines with Lady Dundas to-day?"

"I believe, ma'am, " replied the girl, "Mr. Lascelles, Lady Hilliars, and the Marquis of Elesmere. "

"I dislike them all three!" cried Mary, with an impatience to whichshe was little liable; "dress me how you like: I am indifferent to myappearance. "

Marshall obeyed the commands of her lady, who, hoping to divert herthoughts, took up the poems of Egerton Brydges. But the attempt onlydeepened her emotion, for every line in that exquisite little volume"gives a very echo to the seat where love is throned!"

She closed the book and sighed. Marshall having fixed the last pearlcomb in her mistress's beautiful hair, and observing that somethingwas wrong that disquieted her, exclaimed, "Dear ma'am, you are sopale to-day! I wish I might put on some gayer ornaments!"

"No, " returned Mary, glancing a look at her languid features; "no, Marshall: I appear as well as I desire. Any chance of passingunnoticed in company I dislike is worth retaining. No one will behere this evening whom I care to please. "

She was mistaken; other company had been invited besides those whomthe maid mentioned. But Miss Beaufort continued from seven o'clockuntil ten, the period at which the ladies left the table, the annoyedvictim of the insipid and pert compliments of Lord Elesmere. 

Sick of his subjectless and dragging conversation, she gladlyfollowed Lady Dundas to the drawing-room, where, opening her knittingcase, she took her station in a remote corner. 

After half an hour had elapsed, the gentlemen from below, recruitedby fresh company, thronged in fast; and, notwithstanding it wasstyled a family party, Miss Beaufort saw many new faces, amongst whomshe observed an elderly clergyman, who was looking about for a chair. The yawning Lascelles threw himself along the only vacant sofa, justas the reverend gentleman approached it. 

Miss Beaufort immediately rose, and was moving on to another room, when the coxcomb, springing up, begged permission to admire her work;and, without permission, taking it from her, pursued her, twistingthe purse around his fingers and talking all the while. 

Mary walked forward, smiling with contempt, until they reached thesaloon, where the Misses Dundas were closely engaged in conversationwith the Marquis of Elesmere. 

Lascelles, who trembled for his Golconda at this sight, steppedbriskly up. Miss Beaufort, who did not wish to lose sight of herpurse whilst in the power of such a Lothario, followed him, andplaced herself against the arm of the sofa on which Euphemia sat. 

Lascelles now bowed his scented locks to Diana in vain; Lord Elesmerewas describing the last heat at Newmarket, and the attention ofneither lady could be withdrawn. 

The beau became so irritated by the neglect of Euphemia, and sonettled at her sister's overlooking him, that assuming a gay air, hestruck Miss Dundas's arm a smart stroke with Miss Beaufort's purse;and laughing, to show the strong opposition between his broad whiteteeth and the miserable mouth of his lordly rival, hoped to alarm himby his familiarity, and to obtain a triumph over the ladies bydegrading them in the eyes of the peer. 

"Miss Dundas, " demanded he, "who was that quiz of a man in black yoursister walked with the other day in Portland Place?"

"Me!" cried Euphemia, surprised. 

"Ay!" returned he; "I was crossing from Weymouth Street, when Iperceived you accost a strange-looking person--a courier from themoon, perhaps! You may remember you sauntered with him as far asSir William Miller's. I would have joined you, but seeing the familystanding in the balcony, I did not wish them to suppose that I knewanything of such queer company. "

"Who was it, Euphemia?" inquired Miss Dundas, in a severe tone. 

"I wonder he affects to be ignorant, " answered her sister, angrily;"he knows very well it was only Mr. Constantine. "

"And who is Mr. Constantine?" demanded the marquis. Mr. Lascellesshrugged his shoulders. 

"E'faith, my lord! a fellow whom nobody knows--a teacher oflanguages, giving himself the airs of a prince--a writer of poetry, and a man who will draw you, your house or dogs, if you will pay himfor it. "

Mary's heart swelled. 

"What, a French emigrant?" drawled his lordship, dropping his lip;"and the lovely Euphemia wishes to soothe his sorrows. "

"No, my lord, " stammered Euphemia, "he is--he is----"

"What!" interrupted Lascelles, with a malicious grin. "A wanderingbeggar, who thrusts himself into society which may some day repay hisinsolence with chastisement! And for the people who encourage him, they had better beware of being themselves driven from all goodcompany. Such confounders of degrees ought to be degraded from therank they disgrace. I understand his chief protectress is LadyTinemouth; his second, Lady Sara Ross, who, by way of _passant letemps, _ shows she is not quite inconsolable at the absence of herhusband. "

Mary, pale and trembling at the scandal his last words insinuated, opened her lips to speak, when Miss Dundas (whose angry eyes dartedfrom her sister to her lover) exclaimed, "Mr. Lascelles, I know notwhat you mean. The subject you have taken up is below my discussion;yet I must confess, if Euphemia has ever disgraced herself so far asto be seen walking with a schoolmaster, she deserves all you havesaid. "

"And why might I not walk with him, sister?" asked the poor culprit, suddenly recovering from her confusion, and looking pertly up; "whoknew that he was not a gentleman?"

"Everybody, ma'am, " interrupted Lascelles; "and when a young woman offashion condescends to be seen equalizing herself with a creaturedepending on his wits for support, she is very likely to incur thecontempt of her acquaintance and the censure of her friends. "

"She is, sir, " said Mary, holding down her indignant heart andforcing her countenance to appear serene; "for she ought to know thatif those men of fashion, who have no wit to be either their supportor ornament, did not proscribe talents from their circle, they mustsoon find 'the greater glory dim the less. '"

"True, madam, " cried Lord Berrington, who, having entered during thecontest, had stood unobserved until this moment; "and their gold andtinsel would prove but dross and bubble, if struck by the Ithurieltouch of Merit when so advocated. "

Mary turned at the sound of his philanthropic voice, and gave him oneof those glances which go immediately to the soul. 

"Come, Miss Beaufort, " cried he, taking her hand; "I see the youngmusician yonder who has so recently astonished the public. I believehe is going to sing. Let us leave this discordant corner, and seekharmony by his side. "

Mary gladly acceded to his request, and seating herself a few pacesfrom the musical party, Berrington took his station behind her chair. 

When the last melting notes of "From shades of night" died upon herear, Mary's eyes, full of admiration and transport, which the powerof association rendered more intense, remained fixed on the singer. Lord Berrington smiled at the vivid expression of her countenance, and as the young Orpheus moved from the instrument, exclaimed, "Come, Miss Beaufort, I won't allow you quite to fancy Braham the god onwhom

 Enamored Clitie turned and gazed!

[Footnote: This accomplished singer and composer still lives--one ofthe most admired ornaments of the British orchestra. --1845. ]

Listen a little to my merits. Do you know that if it were not for mytimely lectures, Lascelles would grow the most insufferable gossipabout town? There is not a match nor a divorce near St. James's ofwhich he cannot repeat all the whys and wherefores. I call him SirBenjamin Backbite; and I believe he hates me worse than Asmodeushimself. "

"Such a man's dislike, " rejoined Mary, "is the highest encomium hecan bestow. I never yet heard him speak well of any person who didnot resemble himself. "

"And he is not consistent even there, " resumed the viscount: "I amnot sure I have always heard him speak in the gentlest terms of MissDundas. Yet, on that I cannot quite blame him; for, on my honor, sheprovokes me beyond any woman breathing. "

"Many women, " replied Mary, smiling, "would esteem that a flatteringinstance of power. "

"And, like everything that flatters, " returned he, "it would tell afalsehood. A shrew can provoke a man who detests her. As to MissDundas, notwithstanding her parade of learning, she generallyespouses the wrong side of the argument; and I may say with somebody, whose name I have forgotten, that any one who knows Diana Dundasnever need be at a loss for a woman to call impertinent. "

"You are not usually so severe, my lord!"

"I am not usually so sincere, Miss Beaufort, " answered he; "but I seeyou think for yourself, therefore I make no hesitation in speakingwhat I think--to you. "

His auditor bowed her head sportively but modestly. Lady Dundas atthat moment beckoned him across the room. She compelled him to sitdown to whist. He cast a rueful glance at Mary, and took a seatopposite to his costly partner. 

"Lord Berrington is a very worthy young man, " observed the clergymanto whom at the beginning of the evening Miss Beaufort had resignedher chair; "I presume, madam, you have been honoring him with yourconversation?"

"Yes, " returned Mary, noticing the benign countenance of the speaker;"I have not had the pleasure of long knowing his lordship, but what Ihave seen of his character is highly to his advantage. "

"I was intimate in his father's house for years, " rejoined thegentleman: "I knew this young nobleman from a boy. If he has faults, he owes them to his mother, who doated on him, and rather directedhis care to the adornment of his really handsome person than to thecultivation of talents he has since learned to appreciate. "

"I believe Lord Berrington to be very sensible, and, above all, veryhumane, " returned Miss Beaufort. 

"He is so, " replied the old gentleman; "yet it was not till he hadattained the age of twenty-two that he appeared to know he hadanything to do in the world besides dressing and attending on thefair sex. His taste produced the first, whilst the urbanity of hisdisposition gave birth to the latter. When Berrington arrived at histitle, he was about five-and-twenty. Sorrow for the death of hisamiable parents, who died in the same month, afforded him leisure tofind his reason. He discovered that he had been acting a part beneathhim, and he soon implanted on the good old stock those excellentacquirements which you see he possesses. In spite of hisregeneration, " continued the clergyman, casting a good-humored glanceon the dove-colored suit of the viscount, "you perceive that firstimpressions will remain. He loves dress, but he loves justice andphilanthropy better. "

"This eulogy, sir, " said Mary, "affords me real pleasure, may I knowthe name of the gentleman with whom I have the honor to converse?"

"My name is Blackmore, " returned he. 

"Dr. Blackmore?"

"The same. "

He was the same Dr. Blackmore who had been struck by the appearanceof the Count Sobieski at the Hummums, but had never learned his name, and who, being a rare visitor at Lady Dundas's, had never by chancemet a second time with the object of his compassion. 

"I am happy, " resumed Miss Beaufort, "in having the good fortune tomeet a clergyman of whom I have so frequently heard my guardian, SirRobert Somerset, speak with the highest esteem. "

"Ah!" replied he, "I have not seen him since the death of his lady; Ihope that he and his son are well!"

"Both are perfectly so now, " returned she, "and are together in thecountry!"

"You, madam, I suppose are my lady's niece, the daughter of the braveAdmiral Beaufort?"

"I am, sir. "

"Well, I rejoice at this incident, " rejoined he, pressing her hand;"I knew your mother when she was a lovely girl. She used to spend hersummers with the late Lady Somerset, at the castle. It was there Ihad the honor of cultivating her friendship. "

"I do not remember ever having seen my mother, " replied the nowthoughtful Mary. Dr. Blackmore observing the expression of hercountenance, smiled kindly, and said, "I fear I am to blame here. This is a somewhat sad way of introducing myself. But your goodnessmust pardon me, " continued he; "for I have so long accustomed myselfto speak what I think to those in whom I see cause to esteem, thatsometimes, as now, I undesignedly inflict pain. "

"Not in this case, " returned Miss Beaufort. "I am always pleased whenlistening to a friend of my mother, and particularly so when hespeaks in her praise. "

The breaking up of the card-tables prevented further conversation. Lord Berrington again approached the sofa where Mary sat, exclaiming, as he perceived her companion, "Ah my good doctor; have you presentedyourself at this fair shrine I declare you eccentric folk may dareanything. Whilst you are free, Miss Beaufort, " added he turning toher, "adopt the advice which a good lady once gave me, and which Ihave implicitly followed: 'When you are young, get the character ofan oddity, and it seats you in an easy chair for life. '"

Mary was interrupted in her reply by a general stir amongst thecompany, who, now the cards were over, like bees and wasps wereswarming about the room, gathering honey or stinging as they went. 

At once the house was cleared; and Miss Beaufort threw herself on thepillow, to think, and then to dream of Thaddeus. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE GREAT AND THE SMALL OF SOCIETY. 

If it be true what the vivid imaginations of poets have frequentlyasserted, that when the soul dreams, it is in the actual presence ofthose beings whose images present themselves to their slumbers, thenhave the spirit, of Thaddeus and Mary been often commingled at thehour of midnight; then has the young Sobieski again visited hisdistant country, again seen it victorious, again knelt before hissainted parents. 

From such visions as these did Thaddeus awake in the morning, afterhaving spent the preceding evening with Lady Tinemouth. 

He had walked with her ladyship in Hyde Park till a late hour. By themild light of the moon, which shone brightly through the still, balmyair of a midsummer night, they took their way along the shadowy bankof the Serpentine. 

There is a solemn appeal to the soul in the repose of nature that"makes itself be felt. " No syllable from either Thaddeus or thecountess for some time broke the universal silence. Thaddeus lookedaround on the clear expanse of water, over-shaded by the longreflection of the darkening trees; then raising his eyes to thatbeautiful planet which has excited tender thoughts in every feelingbreast since the creation of the world, he drew a deep sigh. Thecountess echoed it. 

[Illustration: LADY TINEMOUTH. ]

"In such a night as this, " said Thaddeus, in a low voice, as ifafraid to disturb the sleeping deity of the place, "I used to walkthe ramparts of Villanow with my dear departed mother, and gaze onthat lovely orb; and when I was far from her, I have looked at itfrom the door of my tent, and fancying that her eyes were then fixedon the same object as mine, I found happiness in the idea. "

A tear stole down the cheek of Thaddeus. That moon yet shonebrightly; but his mother's eyes were closed in the grave. 

"Villanow!" repeated the countess, in a tone of tender surprise;"surely that was the seat of the celebrated Palatine of Masovia! Youhave discovered yourself, Constantine! I am much mistaken if you benot his grandson, the young, yet far-famed, Thaddeus Sobieski?"

Thaddeus had allowed the remembrances pressing on his mind to drawhim into a speech which had disclosed to the quick apprehension ofthe countess what his still too sensitive pride would forever haveconcealed. 

"I have indeed betrayed my secret, " cried he, incapable of denyingit; "but, dear lady Tinemouth, as you value my feelings, never let itescape your lips. Having long considered you as my best friend, andloved you as a parent, I forgot, in the recollection of my belovedmother, that I had withheld any of my history from you. "

"Mysterious Providence!" exclaimed her ladyship, after a pause, inwhich ten thousand admiring and pitying reflections thronged on hermind: "is it possible? Can it be the Count Sobieski, that brave andillustrious youth of whom every foreigner spoke with wonder? Can itbe him that I behold in the unknown, unfriended Constantine?"

"Even so, " returned Thaddeus, pressing her hand. "My country is nomore. I am now forgotten by the world, as I have been by fortune. Ihave nothing to do on the earth but to fulfil the few duties which afilial friendship has enjoined, and then it will be a matter ofindifference to me how soon I am laid in its bosom. "

"You are too young, dear Constantine, (for I am still to call you bythat name, ) to despair of happiness being yet reserved for you. "

"No, my dear Lady Tinemouth, I do not cheat myself with such hope; Iam not so importunate with the gracious Being who gave me life andreason. He bestowed upon me for awhile the tenderest connections--friends, rank, honors, glory. All these were crushed in the fall ofPoland; yet I survive, I sought resignation only, and I have foundit. It cost me many a struggle; but the contest was due to thedecrees of that all-wise Creator who gave my first years tohappiness. "

"Inestimable young man!" cried the countess, wiping the flowing tearsfrom her eyes; "you teach misfortune dignity! Not when all Warsawrose in a body to thank you, not when the king received you in thesenate with open arms, could you have appeared to me so worthy ofadmiration as at this moment, when, conscious of having been allthis, you submit to the direct reverse, because you believe it to bethe will of your Maker! Ah! little does Miss Beaufort think, whenseated by your side, that she is conversing with the youthful herowhom she has so often wished to see!"

"Miss Beaufort!" echoed Thaddeus, his heart glowing with delight. "Doyou think she ever heard of me by the name of Sobieski?"

"Who has not?" returned the countess; "every heart that could beinterested by heroic virtue has heard and well remembers its gloriousstruggles against the calamities of your country. Whilst thenewspapers of the day informed us of these things, they noticedamongst the first of her champions the Palatine of Masovia, Kosciusko, and the young Sobieski. Many an evening have I passed withMiss Dorothy and Mary Beaufort, lamenting the fate of that devotedkingdom. "

During this declaration, a variety of indeed happy emotions agitatedthe mind of Thaddeus, until, recollecting with a bitter pang theshameless ingratitude of Pembroke, when all those glories weredeparted from him, and the cruel possibility of being recognized bythe Earl of Tinemouth as his son, he exclaimed, "My dearest madam, Ientreat that what I have revealed to you may never be divulged. MissBeaufort's friendship would indeed be happiness; but I cannotpurchase even so great a bliss at the expense of memories which areknit with my life. "

"How?" cried the countess; "is not your name, and all its attendantideas, an honor which the proudest man might boast?"

Thaddeus pressed her hand to his heart. 

"You are kind--very kind! yet I cannot retract. Confide, dear LadyTinemouth, in the justice of my resolution. I could not bear coldpity; I could not bear the heartless comments of people who, pretending to compassion, would load me with a heavy sense of mycalamities. Besides, there are persons in England who are so much theobjects of my aversion, I would rather die than let them know Iexist. Therefore, once again, dear Lady Tinemouth, let me implore youto preserve my secret. "

She saw by the earnestness of his manner that she ought to comply, and without further hesitation promised all the silence he desired. 

This long moonlight conversation, by awakening all those dormantremembrances which were cherished, though hidden in the depths of hisbosom, gave birth to that _mirage_ of imagination which paintedthat night, in the rapid series of his tumultuous dreams, the imagesof every being whom he had ever loved, or now continued to regardwith interest. 

Proceeding next morning towards Harley Street, he mused on what hadhappened; and pleased that he had, though unpremeditatedly, paid thejust compliment of his entire confidence to the uncommon friendshipof the countess, he arrived at Lady Dundas's door before he wassensible of the ground he had passed over, and in a few minutesafterwards was ushered into his accustomed purgatory. 

When the servant opened the study-door, Miss Euphemia was againalone. Thaddeus recoiled, but he could not retreat. 

"Come in, Mr. Constantine, " cried the little beauty, in a languidtone; "my sister is going to the riding-school with Mr. Lascelles. Miss Beaufort wanted me to drive out with her and my mother, but Ipreferred waiting for you. "

The count bowed; and almost retreating with fear of what might nextbe said, he gladly heard a thundering knock at the door, and a momentafter the voice of Miss Dundas ascending the stairs. 

He had just opened his books when she entered, followed by her lover. Panting under a heavy riding-habit, she flung herself on a sofa, andbegan to vilify "the odious heat of Pozard's odious place;" thentelling Euphemia she would play truant to-day, ordered her to attendto her lessons. 

Owing to the warmth of the weather, Thaddeus came out this morningwithout boots; and it being the first time the exquisite proportionof his figure had been so fully seen by any of the present companyexcepting Euphemia, Lascelles, bursting with an emotion which hewould not call envy, measured the count's graceful limb with hisscornful eyes; then declaring he was quite in a furnace, took thecorner of his glove and waving it to and fro, half-muttered, "Comegentle air. "

"The fairer Lascelles cries!" exclaimed Euphemia, looking off herexercise. 

"What! does your master teach you wit?" drawled the coxcomb, with aparticular emphasis. 

Thaddeus, affecting not to hear, continued to direct his pupil. 

The indefatigable Lascelles having observed the complacence withwhich the count always regarded Miss Beaufort determined the goadshould fret; and drawing the knitting out of his pocket which he hadsnatched the night before from Mary, he exclaimed, "'Fore heaven, here is my little Beaufort's purse!"

Thaddeus started, and unconsciously looking up, beheld the well-knownwork of Mary dangling in the hand of Lascelles. He suffered pangsunknown to him; his eyes became dim; and hardly knowing what he sawor said, he pursued the lesson with increased rapidity. 

Finding that his malice had taken effect, with a careless air themalicious puppy threw his clumsy limbs on the sofa, which Miss Dundashad just quitted to seat herself nearer the window, and cried out, asin a voice of sudden recollection:

"By the bye, that Miss Mary Beaufort, when she chooses to be sincere, is a staunch little Queen Bess. "

"You may as well tell me, " replied Miss Dundas, with a deriding curlof her lip, "that she is the Empress of Russia. "

"I beg your pardon!" cried he, and raising his voice to be betterheard, "I do not mean in the way of learning. But I will prove in amoment her creditable high-mightiness in these presumptuous times, though a silly love of popularity induces her to affect now and thena humble guise to some people beneath her. When she gave me thisgewgaw, " added he, flourishing the purse in his hand, "she told me apretty tissue about a fair friend of hers, whose music-master, mistaking some condescension on her part, had dared to press hersnowy fingers while directing them towards a tender chord on herharp. You have no notion how the gentle Beaufort's blue eyes blazedup while relating poor Tweedledum's presumption!"

"I can have a notion of anything these boasted meek young ladies dowhen thrown off their guard, " haughtily returned his contemptuousauditress, "after Miss Beaufort's violent sally of impertinence toyou last night. "

"Impertinence to me!" echoed the fop, at the same time dipping theend of the knitting into Diana's lavender-bottle, and dabbing histemples; "she was always too civil by half. I hate forward girls. "

Thaddeus shut the large dictionary which lay before him with a forcethat made the puppy start, and rising hastily from his chair, with aface all crimson, was taking his hat, when the door opened, and Maryappeared. 

A white-chip bonnet was resting lightly on the glittering tresseswhich waved over her forehead, whilst her lace-shade, gentlydiscomposed by the air, half veiled and half revealed her gracefulfigure. She entered with a smile, and walking up to the side of thetable where Thaddeus was standing, inquired after his friend'shealth. He answered her in a voice unusually agitated. All that hehad been told by the countess of her favorable opinion of him, andthe slander he had just heard from Diana's lover, were at oncepresent in his mind. 

He was yet speaking, when Miss Beaufort, casually looking towards theother side of the room, saw her purse still acting the part of ahandkerchief in the hand of Mr. Lascelles. 

"Look, Mr. Constantine, " said she, gayly tapping his arm with herparasol, "how the most precious things may be degraded! There is theknitting you have so often admired, and which I intended for LadyTinemouth's pocket, debased to do the office of Mr. Lascelles'snapkin. "

"You gave it to him, Miss Beaufort, " cried Miss Dundas; "and afterthat, surely he may use it as he values it!"

"If I could have given it to Mr. Lascelles, madam, I should hardlyhave taken notice of its fate. "

Believing what her lover had advanced, Miss Dundas was displeased atMary for having, by presents, interfered with any of her danglers, and rather angrily replied, "Mr. Lascelles said you gave it to him;and certainly you would not insinuate a word against his veracity?"

"No, not insinuate, " returned Miss Beaufort, "but affirm, that he hasforgotten his veracity in this statement. "

Lascelles yawned. "Lord bless me, ladies, how you quarrel! You willdisturb Monsieur?"

"Mr. Constantine, " returned Mary, blushing with indignation, "cannotbe disturbed by nonsense. "

Thaddeus again drew his hat towards him, and bowing to his lovelychampion, with an expression of countenance which he little suspectedhad passed from his heart to his eyes, he was preparing to take hisleave, when Euphemia requested him to inform her whether she hadfolded down the right pages for the next exercise. He approached her, and was leaning over her chair to look at the book, when shewhispered, "Don't be hurt at what Lascelles says; he is alwaysjealous of anybody who is handsomer than himself. "

Thaddeus dropped his eyelids with a face of scarlet; for on meetingthe eyes of Mary, he saw that she had heard this intended comforteras well as himself. Uttering a few incoherent sentences to bothladies he hurried out of the room. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE OBDURACY OF VICE--THE INHUMANITY OF FOLLY. 

The Count Sobieski was prevented paying his customary visit nextmorning in Harley Street by a sudden dangerous increase of illness inthe general, who had been struck at seven o'clock by a fit of palsy. 

When Dr. Cavendish beheld the poor old man stretched on the bed, andhardly exhibiting signs of life, he pronounced it to be a death-stroke. At this remark, Thaddeus, turning fearfully pale, staggeredto a seat, with his eyes fixed on the altered features of his friend. Dr. Cavendish took his hand. 

"Recollect yourself, my dear sir! Happen when it may, his death mustbe a release to him. But he may yet linger a few days. "

"Not in pain, I hope!" said Thaddeus. 

"No, " returned the doctor; "probably he will remain as you now seehim, till he expires like the last glimmer of a dying taper. "

The benevolent Cavendish gave proper directions to Thaddeus, also toMrs. Robson, who promised to act carefully as nurse; and then withregret left the stunned count to the melancholy task of watching bythe bedside of his last early friend. 

Thaddeus now retained no thought that was not riveted to theemaciated form before him. Whilst the unconscious invalid struggledfor respiration, he listened to his short and convulsed breathingwith sensations which seemed to tear the strings of his own breast. Unable to bear it longer, he moved to the fireside, and seatinghimself, with his pallid face and aching head supported on his arm, which rested on a plain deal table, he remained; meeting no othersuspension from deep and awestruck meditation than the occasionalappearance of Mrs. Robson on tiptoes, peeping in and inquiringwhether he wanted anything. 

From this reverie, like unto the shadow of death, he was aroused nextmorning at nine o'clock by the entrance of Dr. Cavendish. Thaddeusseized his hand with the eagerness of his awakened suspense. "My dearsir, may I hope--"

Not suffering him to finish with what he hoped, the doctor shook hishead in gentle sign of the vanity of that hope, and advanced to thebed of the general. He felt his pulse. No change of opinion was theconsequence, only that he now saw no threatenings of immediatedissolution. 

"Poor Butzou!" murmured Thaddeus, when the doctor withdrew, puttingthe general's motionless hand to his quivering lips; "I never willleave thee! I will watch by thee, thou last relic of my country! Itmay not be long ere we lie side by side. "

With anguish at his heart, he wrote a few hasty lines to thecountess; then addressing Miss Dundas, he mentioned as the reason forhis late and continued absence the danger of his friend. 

His note found Miss Dundas attended by her constant shadow, Mr. Lascelles, Lady Hilliars, and two or three more fine ladies andgentlemen, besides Euphemia and Miss Beaufort, who, with pensivecountenances, were waiting the arrival of its writer. 

When Miss Dundas took the billet off the silver salver on which herman presented it, and looked at the superscription, she threw it intothe lap of Lacelles. 

"There, " cried she, "is an excuse, I suppose, from Mr. Constantine, for his impertinence in not coming hither yesterday. Read it, Lascelles. "

"'Fore Gad, I wouldn't touch it for an earldom!" exclaimed theaffected puppy, jerking it on the table. "It might affect me with thehypochondriacs. Pray, Phemy, do you peruse it. "

Euphemia, in her earnestness to learn what detained Mr. Constantine, neglected the insolence of the request, and hastily breaking theseal, read as follows:--

"Mr. Constantine hopes that a sudden and dangerous disorder which hasattacked the life of a very dear friend with whom he resides will bea sufficient appeal to the humanity of the Misses Dundas, and obtaintheir pardon for his relinquishing the honor of attending themyesterday and to-day. "

"Dear me!" cried Euphemia, piteously; "how sorry I am. I dare say itis that white-haired old man we saw in the park, You remember, Mary, he was sick?"

"Probably, " returned Miss Beaufort, with her eyes fixed on theagitated handwriting of Thaddeus. 

"Throw the letter into the street, Phemy!" cried Miss Dundas, affecting sudden terror; "who knows but what it is a fever the manhas got, and we may all catch our deaths. "

"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Mary, in a voice of real alarm; but it wasfor Thaddeus--not fear of any infection which the paper might bringto herself. 

"Lascelles, take away that filthy scrawl from Phemy. How can you beso headstrong, child?" cried Diana, snatching the letter from hersister and throwing it from the window. "I declare you are sufficientto provoke a saint. "

"Then you may keep your temper, Di, " returned Euphemia, with a sneer;"you are far enough from that title. "

Miss Dundas made a very angry reply, which was retaliated by another;and a still more noisy and disagreeable altercation might have takenplace had not a good-humored lad, a brother-in-law of Lady Hilliars, in hopes of calling off the attention of the sisters, exclaimed, "Bless me, Miss Dundas, your little dog has pulled a folded sheet ofpaper from under that stand of flowers! Perhaps it may be ofconsequence. "

"Fly! Take it up, George!" cried Lady Hilliars; "Esop will tear it toatoms whilst you are asking questions. "

After a chase round the room, over chairs and under tables, GeorgeHilliars at length plucked the devoted piece of paper out of thedog's mouth; and as Miss Beaufort was gathering up her workingmaterials to leave the room, he opened it and cried, in a voice oftriumph, "By Jove, it is a copy of verses!"

"Verses!" demanded Euphemia, feeling in her pocket, and coloring;"let me see them. "

"That you sha'n't, " roared Lascelles, catching them out of the boy'shand; "if they are your writing, we will have them. "

"Help me, Mary!" cried Euphemia, turning to Miss Beaufort; "I knowthat nobody is a poet in this house but myself. They must be mine, and I will have them. "

"Surely, Mr. Lascelles, " said Mary, compassionating the poor girl'sanxiety, "you will not be so rude as to detain them from their rightowner?"

"Oh! but I will, " cried he, mounting on a table to get out ofEuphemia's reach, who, half crying, tried to snatch at the paper. "Let me alone, Miss Phemy. I will read them; so here goes it. "

Miss Dundas laughed at her sister's confused looks, whilst Lascellesprepared to read in a loud voice the following verses. They had beenhastily written in pencil by Thaddeus a long time ago; and having putthem, by mistake, with some other papers into his pocket, he haddropped them next day, in taking out his handkerchief at LadyDundas's. Lascelles cleared his throat with three hems, then raisinghis right hand with a flourishing action, in a very pompous tonebegan--

 "Like one whom Etna's torrent fires have sent Far from the land where his first youth was spent; Who, inly drooping on a foreign shore, Broods over scenes which charm his eyes no more: And while his country's ruin wakes the groan, Yearns for the buried hut he called his own. So driv'n, O Poland! from thy ravaged plains, So mourning o'er thy sad and but loved remains, A houseless wretch, I wander through the world, From friends, from greatness, and from glory hurl'd!

 "Oh! not that each long night my weary eyes Sink into sleep, unlull'd by Pity's sighs; Not that in bitter tears my bread is steep'd-- Tears drawn by insults on my sorrows heap'd; Not that my thoughts recall a mother's grave-- Recall the sire I would have died to save, Who fell before me, bleeding on the field, Whilst I in vain opposed the useless shield. Ah! not for these I grieve! Though mental woe, More deadly still, scarce Fancy's self could know! O'er want and private griefs the soul can climb, -- Virtue subdues the one, the other Time: But at his country's fall, the patriot feels A grief no time, no drug, no reason heals. 

 "Mem'ry! remorseless murderer, whose voice Kills as it sounds; who never says, Rejoice! To my deserted heart, by joy forgot; Thou pale, thou midnight spectre, haunt me not! Thou dost but point to where sublimely stands A glorious temple, reared by Virtue's hands, Circled with palms and laurels, crown'd with light, Darting Truth's piercing sun on mortal sight: Then rushing on, leagued fiends of hellish birth Level the mighty fabric with the earth! Slept the red bolt of Vengeance in that hour When virtuous Freedom fell the slave of Power! Slumber'd the God of Justice! that no brand Blasted with blazing wing the impious band! Dread God of Justice! to thy will I kneel, Though still my filial heart must bleed and feel; Though still the proud convulsive throb will rise, When fools my country's wrongs and woes despise;

 When low-soul'd Pomp, vain Wealth, that Pity gives, Which Virtue ne'er bestows and ne'er receives, -- That Pity, stabbing where it vaunts to cure, Which barbs the dart of Want, and makes it sure. How far removed from what the feeling breast Yields boastless, breathed in sighs to the distress'd! Which whispers sympathy, with tender fear, And almost dreads to pour its balmy tear. But such I know not now! Unseen, alone, I heave the heavy sigh, I draw the groan; And, madd'ning, turn to days of liveliest joy, When o'er my native hills I cast mine eyes, And said, exulting--"Freemen here shall sow The seed that soon in tossing gold shall glow! While Plenty, led by Liberty, shall rove, Gay and rejoicing, through the land they love; And 'mid the loaded vines, the peasant see His wife, his children, breathing out, --'We're free!' But now, O wretched land! above thy plains, Half viewless through the gloom, vast Horror reigns, No happy peasant, o'er his blazing hearth, Devotes the supper hour to love and mirth; No flowers on Piety's pure altar bloom; Alas! they wither now, and strew her tomb! From the Great Book of Nations fiercely rent, My country's page to Lethe's stream is sent-- But sent in vain! The historic Muse shall raise O'er wronged Sarmatia's cause the voice of praise, -- Shall sing her dauntless on the field of death, And blast her royal robbers' bloody wrath!"

"It must be Constantine's!" cried Euphemia, in a voice of surpriseddelight, while springing up to take the paper out of the deridingreader's hand when he finished. 

"I dare say it is, " answered the ill-natured Lascelles, holding itabove his head. "You shall have it; only first let us hear it again, it is so mighty pretty, so very lackadaisical!"

"Give it to me!" cried Euphemia, quite angry. 

"Don't, Lascelles, " exclaimed Miss Dundas, "the man must be a perfectidiot to write such rhodomontade. "

"O! it is delectable!" returned her lover, opening the paper again;"it would make a charming ditty! Come, I will sing it. Shall it be tothe tune of 'The Babes in the Wood, ' or 'Chevy Chase, ' or 'The Beggarof Bethnal Green?"

"Pitiless, senseless man!" exclaimed Mary, rising from her chair, where she had been striving to subdue the emotions with which everyline in the poem filled her heart. 

"Monster!" cried the enraged Euphemia, taking courage at MissBeaufort's unusual warmth; "I will have the paper. "

"You sha'n't, " answered the malicious coxcomb; and raising his armhigher than her reach, he tore it in a hundred pieces. "I'll teachpretty ladies to call names!"

At this sight, no longer able to contain herself, Mary rushed out ofthe room, and hurrying to her chamber, threw herself upon the bed, where she gave way to a paroxysm of tears which shook her almost tosuffocation. 

During the first burst of her indignation, her agitated spiritbreathed every appellation of abhorrence and reproach on Lascellesand his malignant mistress. Then wiping her flowing eyes, sheexclaimed, "Yet can I wonder, when I compare Constantine with whatthey are? The man who dares to be virtuous beyond others, and toappear so, arms the self-love of all common characters against him. "

Such being her meditations, she excused herself from joining thefamily at dinner, and it was not until evening that she felt herselfat all able to treat the ill-natured group with decent civility. 

To avoid spending more hours than were absolutely necessary in thecompany of a woman she now loathed, next morning Miss Beaufortborrowed Lady Dundas's sedan-chair, and ordering it to LadyTinemouth's, found her at home alone, but evidently much discomposed. 

"I intrude on you, Lady Tinemouth!" said Mary, observing her looks, and withdrawing from the offered seat. 

"No, my dear Miss Beaufort, " replied she, "I am glad you are come. Iassure you I have few pleasures in solitude. Read that letter, " addedshe, putting one into her hand: "it has just conveyed one of thecruelest stabs ever offered by a son to the heart of his mother. Readit, and you will not be surprised at finding me in the state yousee. "

The countess looked on her almost paralyzed hands as she spoke; andMiss Beaufort taking the paper, sat down and read to herself thefollowing letter:

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE COUNTESS OF TINEMOUTH. 

"Madam, "I am commissioned by the earl, my father, to inform you that if youhave lost all regard for your own character, he considers that somerespect is due to the mother of his children; therefore he watchesyour conduct. 

"He has been apprized of your frequent meetings, during these manymonths past, in Grosvenor Place, and at other people's houses, withan obscure foreigner, your declared lover. The earl wished to supposethis false, until your shameless behavior became so flagrant, that heesteems it worthy neither of doubt nor indulgence. 

"With his own eyes he saw you four nights ago alone with this man inHyde Park. Such demonstration is dreadful. Your proceedings areabominable; and if you do not, without further parley, set off eitherto Craighall, in Cornwall, or to the Wolds, you shall receive aletter from my sister as well as myself, to tell the dishonored LadyTinemouth how much she merits her daughter's contempt, added to thatof her brother. 

"HARWOLD. "

Mary was indeed heart-struck at the contents of this letter, but mostespecially at the accusation which so distinctly pointed out theinnocent object of her already doubly-excited pity. "Oh! why thesepersecutions, " cried her inward soul to heaven, "against anapparently obscure but noble, friendless stranger?" Unable to collecther thoughts to make any proper remarks whatever on the letter toLady Tinemouth, she hastily exclaimed, "It is indeed horrible; andwhat do you mean to do, my honored friend?"

"I will obey my lord!" returned the countess, with a meek but firmemphasis. "My last action will be in obedience to his will. I cannotlive long; and when I am dead, perhaps the earl's vigilance may besatisfied; perhaps some kind friend may then plead my cause to mydaughter's heart. One cruel line from her would kill me. I will atleast avoid the completion of that threat, by leaving town to-morrownight. "

"What! so soon? But I hope not so far as Cornwall?"

"No, " replied her ladyship; "Craighall is too near Plymouth; Idetermine on the Wolds. Yet why should I have a choice? It is almosta matter of indifference to what spot I am banished--in what place Iam to die; anywhere to which my earthly lord would send me, I shallbe equally remote from the sympathy of a friend. "

Miss Beaufort's heart was oppressed when she entered the room! LadyTinemouth's sorrows seemed to give her a license to weep. She tookher ladyship's hand, and with difficulty sobbed out this inarticulateproposal:--"Take me with you, dear Lady Tinemouth! I am sure myguardian will be happy to permit me to be with you, where and howlong you please. "

"My dear young friend, " replied the countess, kissing her tearfulcheek, "I thank you from my heart; but I cannot take so ungenerous anadvantage of your goodness as to consign your tender nature to theharassing task of attending on sorrow and sickness. How strangelydifferent may even amiable dispositions be tempered! Sophia Egertonis better framed for such an office. Kind as she is, the hilarity ofher disposition does nor allow the sympathy she bestows on others toinjure either her mind or her body. "

Mary interrupted her. "Ah! I should be grieved to believe that myvery aptitude to serve my friends will prove the first reason why Ishould be denied the duty. It is only in scenes of affliction thatfriendship can be tried, and declare its truth. If Miss Egerton werenot going with you, I should certainly insist on putting my affectionto the ordeal. '

"You mistake, my sweet friend. " returned her ladyship; "Sophia isforbidden to remain any longer with me. You have overlooked thepostscript to Lord Harwold's letter, else you must have seen thewhole of my cruel situation. Turn over the leaf. "

Miss Beaufort re-opened the sheet, and read the following few lines, which, being written on the interior part of the paper, had beforeescaped her sight:--

"Go where you will, it is our special injunction that you leave MissEgerton behind you. She, we hear, has been the ambassadress in thisintrigue. If we learn that you disobey, it shall be worse for you inevery respect, as it will convince us, beyond a possibility of doubt, how uniform is the turpitude of your conduct. "

Lady Tinemouth grasped Miss Beaufort's hand when she laid thematricidal letter back upon the table. "And that is from the son forwhom I felt all a mother's throes--all a mother's love!--Had he diedthe first hour in which he saw the light, what a mass of guilt mighthe not have escaped! It is he, " added she, in a lower voice, andlooking wildly round, "that breaks my heart. I could have borne hisfather's perfidy; but insult, oppression, from my child! Oh, Mary, may you never know its bitterness!"

Miss Beaufort could only answer with her tears. 

After a pause of many minutes, in which the countess strove totranquillize her spirits, she resumed in a more composed voice. 

"Excuse me for an instant, my dear Miss Beaufort; I must write to Mr. Constantine. I have yet to inform him that my absence is to be addedto his other misfortunes. "

With her eyes now raining down upon the paper, she took up a pen andhastily writing a few lines, was sealing them when Mary, looking up, hardly conscious of the words which escaped her, said, withinarticulate anxiety, "Lady Tinemouth, you know much of that nobleand unhappy young man?" Her eyes irresolute and her cheek glowing, she awaited the answer of the countess, who continued to gaze on theletter she held in her hand, as if in profound thought; then all atonce raising her head, and regarding the now downcast face of herlovely friend with tenderness, she replied, in a tone which conveyedthe deep interest of her thoughts:--

"I do, Miss Beaufort; but he has reposed his griefs in my friendshipand honor, therefore I must hold them sacred. "

"I will not ask you to betray them, " returned Mary, in a falteringvoice; "yet I cannot help lamenting his sufferings, and I esteemingthe fortitude with which he supports his fall. "

The countess looked steadfastly on her fluctuating countenance. "HasConstantine, my dear girl, hinted to you that he ever was otherwisethan as he now appears?"

Miss Beaufort could not reply. She would not trust her lips withwords, but shook her head in sign that he had not. Lady Tinemouth wastoo well read in the human heart to doubt for an instant the cause ofher question, and consequent emotion. Feeling that something was dueto an anxiety so disinterested, she took her passive hand, and said, "Mary, you have guessed rightly. Though I am not authorized to tellyou the real name of Mr. Constantine, nor the particulars of hishistory, yet let this satisfy your generous heart, that it can neverbe more honorably employed than in compassionating calamities whichought to wreath his young brows with glory. "

Miss Beaufort's eyes streamed afresh, whilst her exulting soul seemedready to rush from her bosom. 

"Mary!" continued the countess, wanned by the recollection of hisexcellence, "you have no need to blush at the interest which you takein this amiable stranger! Every trial of spirit which could havetortured youth or manhood has been endured by him with the firmnessof a hero. Ah, my sweet friend, " added the countess, pressing thehand of the confused Miss Beaufort, who, ashamed, and conscious thather behavior betrayed how dearly she considered him, had covered herface with her handkerchief, "when you are disposed to believe that aman is as great as his titles and personal demands seem to assert, examine with a nice observance whether his pretensions be real orartificial. Imagine him disrobed of splendor and struggling with theworld's inclemencies. If his character cannot stand this ordeal, heis only a vain pageant, inflated and garnished; and it is reasonableto punish such arrogance with contempt. But on the contrary, when, like Constantine, he rises from the ashes of his fortunes in abrighter blaze of virtue, then, dearest girl, " cried the countess, encircling her with her arms, "it is the sweetest privilege ofloveliness to console and bless so rare a being. "

Mary raised her weeping face from the bosom of her friend, andclasping her hands together with trepidation and anguish, imploredher to be as faithful to her secret as she had proved herself toConstantine's. "I would sooner die, " added she, "than have him knowmy rashness, perhaps my indelicacy! Let me possess his esteem, LadyTinemouth! Let him suppose that I only _esteem_ him! More Ishould shrink from. I have seen him beset by some of my sex; and tobe classed with them--to have him imagine that my affection is liketheirs!--I could not bear it. I entreat you, let him respect me!"

The impetuosity, and almost despair, with which Miss Beaufort utteredthese incoherent sentences penetrated the soul of Lady Tinemouth withadmiration. How different was the spirit of this pure and dignifiedlove to the wild passion she had seen shake the frame of Lady SaraRoss. 

They remained silent for some time. 

"May I see your ladyship to-morrow?" asked Mary, drawing her cloakabout her. 

"I fear not, " replied the countess; "I leave this house tomorrowmorning. "

Miss Beaufort rose; her lips, hands, and feet trembled so that shecould hardly stand. Lady Tinemouth put her arm round her waist, andkissing her forehead, added, "Heaven bless you, my sweet friend! Mayall the wishes of your innocent heart be gratified!"

The countess supported her to the door. Mary hesitated an instant;then flinging her snowy arms over her ladyship's neck, in a voicescarcely audible, articulated, "Only tell me, does he love Euphemia?"

Lady Tinemouth strained her to her breast. "No, my dearest girl; I amcertain, both from what I have heard him say and observed in hiseyes, that did he dare to love any one, _you_ would be theobject of his choice. "

How Miss Beaufort got into Lady Dundas's sedan-chair she had norecollection, so completely was she absorbed in the recent scene. Hermind was perplexed, her heart ached; and she arrived in Harley Streetso much disordered and unwell as to oblige her to retire immediatelyto her room, with the excuse of a violent pain in her head. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

PASSION AND PRINCIPLE. 

This interview induced Lady Tinemouth to destroy the note she hadwritten to Thaddeus, and to frame another, better calculated toproduce comfort to all parties. What she had declared to Maryrespecting the state of the count's affections was sincere. 

She had early pierced the veil of bashfulness with which MissBeaufort overshadowed, when in his presence, that countenance sousually the tablet of her soul. The countess easily translated thequick receding of her eye whenever Thaddeus turned his attentiontowards her, the confused reply that followed any unexpected questionfrom his lips, and, above all, the unheeded sighs heaved by her whenhe left the room, or when his name was mentioned during his absence. These symptoms too truly revealed to Lady Tinemouth the state of heryoung friend's bosom. 

But the circumstances being different, her observations on Thaddeuswere not nearly so conclusive. Mary had absolutely given the empireof her happiness, with her heart, into his hands. Thaddeus felt thathis ruined hopes ought to prevent him laying his at her feet, couldhe even be made to believe that he had found any favor in her sight!and regarding her as a being beyond his reach, he conceived nosuspicions that she entertained one dearer thought of him than whatmere philanthropy could authorize. 

He contemplated her unequalled beauty, graces, talents and virtueswith an admiration bordering on idolatry! yet his heart flew from theconfession that he loved her; and it was not until reason demanded ofhis sincerity why he felt a pang on seeing Mary's purse in the handsof Mr. Lascelles, that with a glowing cheek he owned to himself thathe was jealous: that although he had not presumed to elevate one wishtowards the possession of Miss Beaufort, yet when Lascelles flauntedher name on his tongue, he found how deep would be the wound in hispeace should she ever give her hand to another than himself!

Confounded at this discovery of a passion the seeds of which hesupposed had been crushed by the weight of his misfortunes and thedepths of his griefs, he proceeded homewards in a trance of thought, not far differing from that of the dreamer who sinks into a harassingslumber, and, filled with terror, doubts whether he be sleeping orawake. 

The sudden illness of General Butzou having put these ideas toflight, Thaddeus was sitting on the bedside, with his anxiousthoughts fixed on the pale spectacle of mortality before him, whenNanny brought in a letter from the countess. He took it, and going tothe window, read with mingled feelings the folding epistle:--

"TO MR. CONSTANTINE. "

I know not, my dear count, when I shall be permitted to see youagain: perhaps never on this side of the grave!

"Since Heaven has denied me the tenderness of my own children, itwould have been a comfort to me might I have continued to act aparent's part by you. But my cruel lord, and my more cruel son, jealous of the consolation I meet in the society of my few intimatefriends, command me to quit London; and as I have ever made it a ruleto conform to their injunctions to the furthest extent of my power, Ishall go. 

"It pierces me to the soul, my dear son! (allow my maternal heart tocall you by that name) it distresses me deeply that I am compelled toleave the place where you are, and the more that I cannot see youbefore my departure, for I quit town early to-morrow. 

"Write to me often, my loved Sobieski; your letters will be somealleviation to my lot during the fulfilment of my hard duty. 

"Wear the enclosed gold chain for my sake; it is one of two given mea long time ago by Miss Beaufort. If I have not greatly mistaken you, the present will now possess a double value in your estimation:indeed it ought. Sensibility and thankfulness being properties ofyour nature, they will not deny a lively gratitude to the generousinterest with which that amiable and noble young woman regards yourfate. It is impossible that the avowed Count Sobieski (whom, a yearago, I remember her animated fancy painted in colors worthy of hisactions) could excite more of her esteem than I know she has bestowedon the untitled Constantine. 

"She is all nobleness and affection. For, although I am sensible thatshe would leave much behind her in London to regret, she insists onaccompanying me to the Wolds. Averse to transgress so far on hergoodness, I firmly refused her offer until this evening, when Ireceived so warm and urgent a letter from her disinterested, generousheart, that I could no longer withhold my grateful assent. 

"Indeed, this lovely creature's active friendship proves of highconsequence to me now, situated as I am with regard to a new whim ofthe earl's. Had she not thus urged me, in obedience to my lord'scommands I should have been obliged to go alone, he having taken somewild antipathy to Miss Egerton whose company he has interdicted. Atany rate, her parents would not have allowed me her society muchlonger, for Mr. Montresor is to return this month. 

"I shall not be easy, my dear count, until I hear from you. Praywrite soon, and inform me of every particular respecting the poorgeneral. Is he likely to recover?

"In all things, my loved son, in which I can serve you, remember thatI expect you will refer yourself to me as to a mother. Your own couldhardly have regarded you with deeper tenderness than does youraffectionate and faithful

"ADELIZA TINEMOUTH. "

"GROSVENOR PLACE, " _Thursday, midnight. _

"Direct to me at Harwold Place, Wolds, Lincolnshire. "

Several opposite emotions agitated the mind of Thaddeus whilstreading this epistle, --increased abhorrence of the man whom hebelieved to be his father, and distress at the increase of hiscruelty to his unhappy wife! Yet these could neither subdue the balmyeffect of her maternal affection towards himself nor wholly check theemotion which the unusual mentioning of Miss Beaufort's name hadcaused his heart to throb. He read the sentence which contained theassurance of her esteem a third time. 

"Delicious poison!" cried he, kissing the paper; "if adoring thee, lovely Mary, be added to my other trials, I shall be resigned! Thereis sweetness even in the thought. Could I credit all which my dearlady Tinemouth affirms, the conviction that I possess one kindsolicitude in the mind of Miss Beaufort would be ample compensationfor---"

He did not finish the sentence, but sighing profoundly, rose from hischair. 

"For anything, except beholding her the bride of another!" was thesentiment with which his heart swelled. Thaddeus had never known aselfish wish in his life; and this first instance of his desiringthat good to be unappropriated which he might not himself enjoy, madehim start. 

"There is an evil in my breast I wotted not of!" Dissatisfied withhimself at this, he was preparing to answer her ladyship's letter, when turning to the date, he discovered that it had been written onThursday night, and in consequence of Nanny's neglect in not callingat the coffee-house, had been delayed a day and a half before itreached him. 

His disappointment at this accident was severe. She was gone, andMiss Beaufort along with her. 

"Then, indeed, I am unfortunate. Yet this treasure!" cried he, fondlyclasping the separated bracelet in his hand; "it will, indeed, be arepresentative of both--honored, beloved--to this deserted heart!"

He put the chain round his neck, and, with a true lover-like feeling, thought that it warmed the heart which mortification had chilled; butthe fancy was evanescent, and he again turned to watch the fadinglife of his friend. 

During the lapse of a few days, in which the general appeared merelyto breathe, Thaddeus, instead of his attendance, despatched regularnotes of excuse to Harley Street. In answer to these, he commonlyreceived little tender billets from Euphemia, the strain of which heseemed totally to overlook, by the cold respect he evinced in hiscontinued diurnal apologies for absence. 

This young lady was so full of her own lamentations over the troublewhich her elegant tutor must endure in watching his sick friend, thatshe never thought it worth while to mention in her notes any creaturein the house excepting herself, and her commiseration. Thaddeuslonged to inquire about Miss Beaufort; but the more he wished it, thegreater was his reluctance to write her name. 

Things were in this situation, when one evening, as he was reading bythe light of a solitary candle in his little sitting-room, the dooropened, and Nanny stepped in, followed by a female wrapped in a largeblack cloak. Thaddeus rose. 

"A lady, sir, " said Nanny, curtseying. 

The moment the girl withdrew, the visitor cast herself into a chair, and sobbing aloud, seemed in violent agitation. Thaddeus, astonishedand alarmed, approached her, and, though she was unknown, offered herevery assistance in his power. 

Catching hold of the hand which, with the greatest respect, heextended towards her, she instantly displayed to his dismayed sightthe features of Lady Sara Ross. 

"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed he, involuntarily starting back. 

"Do not cast me off, Constantine!" cried she, clasping his arm, andlooking up to him with a face of anguish; "on you alone I now dependfor happiness--for existence!"

A cold damp stood on the forehead of her auditor. 

"Dear Lady Sara, what am I to understand by this emotion; hasanything dreadful happened? Is Captain Ross--"

Lady Sara shuddered, and still grasping his hand, answered with wordsevery one of which palsied the heart of Thaddeus. "He is coming home. He is now at Portsmouth. O, Constantine! I am not yet so debased asto live with him when my heart is yours. "

At this shameful declaration, Thaddeus clenched his teeth in agony ofspirit; and placing his hand upon his eyes, to shut her from hissight, he turned suddenly round and walked towards another part ofthe room. 

Lady Sara followed him. Her cloak having fallen off, now displayedher fine form in all the fervor of grief and distraction. She rungher fair and jewelled arms in despair, and with accents rendered morepiercing by the anguish of her mind, exclaimed, "What! You hate me?You throw me from you? Cruel, barbarous Constantine! Can you drivefrom your feet the woman who adores you? Can you cast her who iswithout a home into the streets?"

Thaddeus felt his hand wet with her tears. He fixed his eyes upon herwith almost delirious horror. Her hat being off, gave freedom to herlong black hair, which, falling in masses over her figure and face, gave such additional wildness to the imploring and frantic expressionof her eyes, that his distracted soul felt reeling within him. 

"Rise, madam! For Heaven's sake, Lady Sara!" and he stooped to raiseher. 

"Never!" cried she, clinging to him--"never! till you promise toprotect me. My husband comes home to-night, and I have left his houseforever. You--you!" exclaimed she, extending her hand to his avertedface; "Oh, Constantine! you have robbed me of my peace! On youraccount I have flown from my home. For mercy's sake, do not abandonme!"

"Lady Sara, " cried he, looking in desperation around him, "I cannotspeak to you in this position! Rise, I implore you!"

"Only, " returned she, "only say that you will protect me!--that Ishall find shelter here! Say this, and I will rise and bless youforever. "

Thaddeus stood aghast, not knowing how to reply. Terror-struck at theviolent lengths to which she seemed determined to carry her unhappyand guilty passion, he in vain sought to evade this direct demand. Lady Sara, perceiving the reluctance and horror of his looks, sprangfrom her knees, while in a more resolute voice she exclaimed, "Then, sir, you will not protect me? You scorn and desert a woman whom youwell know has long loved you?--whom, by your artful behavior, youhave seduced to this disgrace!"

The count, surprised and shocked at this accusation, with gentleness, but resolution, denied the charge. 

Lady Sara again melted into tears, and supporting her tottering frameagainst his shoulder, replied, in a stifled voice, "I know it well: Ihave nothing to blame for my wretched state but my own weakness. Pardon, dear Constantine, the dictates of my madness! Oh! I wouldgladly owe such misery to any other source than myself!"

"Then, respected lady, " rejoined Thaddeus, gaining courage from themildness of her manner, "let me implore you to return to your ownhouse!"

"Don't ask me, " cried she, grasping his hand. "O, Constantine! if youknew what it was to receive with smiles of affection a creature whomyou loathe, you would shrink with disgust from what you require. Idetest Captain Ross. Can I open my arms to meet him, when my heartexcludes him forever? Can I welcome him home when I wish him in hisgrave?"

Sobieski extricated his hand from her grasp. Her ladyship perceivedthe repugnance which dictated this action, and with renewed violenceejaculated, "Unhappy woman that I am! to hate where I am loved! tolove where I am hated! Kill me, Constantine!" cried she, turningsuddenly towards him, and sinking clown on a chair, "but do not giveme such another look as that!"

"Dear Lady Sara, " replied he, seating himself by her side, "whatwould you have me do? You see that I have no proper means ofprotecting you. I have no relations, no friends to receive you. Yousee that I am a poor man. Besides, your character--"

"Talk not of my character!" cried she: "I will have none that doesnot depend on you! Cruel Constantine! you will not understand me. Iwant no riches, no friends, but yourself. Give me _your_ homeand _your_ arms, " added she, throwing herself in an agony on hisbosom, "and beggary would be paradise! But I shall not bring youpoverty; I have inherited a fortune since I married Ross, on which hehas no claim. "

Thaddeus now shrunk doubly from her. Why had she not felt a sacredspell in that husband's name? He shuddered, and tore himself from herclinging arms. Holding her off with his hand, he exclaimed, in avoice of mental agony, "Infatuated woman! leave me, for his honor andyour own peace. "

"No, no!" cried she, hoping she had gained some advantage over hisagitated feelings, and again casting herself at his feet, exclaimed, "Never will I leave this spot till you consent that your home shallbe my home; that I shall serve you forever!"

Thaddeus pressed his hands upon his eyes, as if he would shut herfrom his sight. But with streaming tears she added, while claspinghis other hand to her throbbing bosom, "Exclude me not from thosedear eyes! reject me not from being your true wife, your willingslave!"

Thaddeus heard this, but he did not look on her, neither did heanswer. He broke from her, and fled, in a stupor of horror at hissituation, into the apartment where the general lay in a heavy sleep. 

Little expecting to see anyone but the man she loved, Lady Sararushed in after him, and was again wildly pressing towards herdetermined victim, when her eyes were suddenly arrested by a livid, and, she thought, dead face of a person lying on the bed. Fixed tothe spot, she stood for a moment; then putting her spread hand on herforehead, uttered a faint cry, and fell soul-struck to the floor. 

Having instant conviction of her mistake, Thaddeus eagerly seized themoment of her insensibility to convey her home. He hastily went tothe top of the stairs, called to Nanny to run for a coach, and thenreturning to the extended figure of Lady Sara, lifted her in his armsand carried her back to the room they had left. 

By the help of a little water, he restored her to a sense ofexistence. She slowly opened her eyes; then raising her head, lookedround with a terrified air, when her eye falling on the still opendoor of the general's room, she caught Thaddeus by the arm, and said, in a shuddering voice, "Oh! take me hence. "

Whilst she yet spoke, the coach stopped at the door. The count rose, and attempted to support her agitated frame on his arm; but shetrembled so, he was obliged to almost carry her down stairs. 

When he placed her in the carriage, she said, in a faint tone, "Yousurely will not leave me?"

Thaddeus made no reply; then desiring Nanny to sit by the generaluntil his return, which should be in a few minutes, and havingstepped into the coach, Lady Sara snatched his hand, while indismayed accents she quickly said, "Who was that fearful person?"

"Alas! the revered friend whose long illness Lady Tinemouth hassometimes mentioned in your presence. "

Lady Sara shuddered again, but with a rush of tears, while she addedimploringly, "Then, whither are you going to take me?"

"You shall again, dear Lady Sara, " replied he, "return to guiltlessand peaceful home. "

"I cannot meet my husband, " cried she, wringing her hands; "he willsee all my premeditated guilt in my countenance. O! Constantine, havepity on me! Miserable creature that I am! It is horrible to livewithout you! It is dreadful to live with him! Take me not home, Ientreat you!"

The count took her clasped hands in his, saying, "Reflect for a moment. Lady Tinemouth's eulogiums on our firstacquaintance taught me to honor you. I believe that when youdistinguished me with any portion of your regard, it was inconsequence of virtues which you thought I possessed. "

"Indeed, you do me justice!" cried she, with renewed energy. 

He continued, feeling that he must be stern in words as well as inpurpose if he would really rescue her from herself. "Think, then, should I yield to the influence of your beauty, and sink yourrespected name to a level with those"--and he pointed to a group ofwretched women assembled at the corner of Pall-Mall. "Think, wherewould be the price of your innocence? I being no longer worthy ofyour esteem, you would hate yourself; and we should continuetogether, two guilty creatures, abhorring each other, and justlydespised by a virtuous world. "

Lady Sara sat as one dumb, and did not inarticulate any sound--exceptthe groan of horror which had shot through her when she had glancedat those women--until the coach stopped in James's Place. 

"Go in with me, " were all the words she could utter, while, pullingher veil over her face, she gave him her hand to assist her down thesteps. 

"Is Captain Ross arrived?" asked Thaddeus of a servant, who, to hisgreat joy, replied in the negative. During the drive, he had alarmedhimself by anticipating the disagreeable suspicions which might risein the mind of the husband should he see his wife in her presentstrange and distracted state. 

When Thaddeus seated Lady Sara in her drawing room, he offered totake a respectful leave; but she laid one hand on his arm, whilstwith the other she covered her convulsed features, and said, "Constantine, before you go, before we part perhaps eternally, O!tell me that you do not, even now, hate me!--that you do not hateme!" repeated she, in a firmer tone; "I know too well how deeply I amdespised. "

"Cease, ah, cease these vehement self-reproaches!" returned he, tenderly replacing her on the sofa. "Shame does not depend onpossessing passions, but in yielding to them. You have conqueredyours, dear Lady Sara; and in future I must respect and love you likea sister of my heart. "

"Noble Constantine! there is no guile in thee, " exclaimed she, straining his hand to her lips. "May Heaven bless you wherever yougo!"

He dropped on his knees, imprinted on both her hands a true brother'ssacred kiss, and, hastily rising, was quitting the room without aword, when he heard, in a short, low sound from her voice, "O, whyhad I not a mother, a sister, to love and pity me! Should I have beensuch a wretch as now?"

Thaddeus turned from the door at the tone and substance of thisapparently unconsciously uttered apostrophe. She was standing withher hands clasped, and her eyes fixed on the ground. By anirresistible impulse he approached her. "Lady Sara, " said he, with atender reverence in his voice, "there is penitence and prayer to abetter Parent in those words! Look up to Him, and He will save youfrom yourself, and bless you in your husband. "

She did raise her eyes at this adjuration, and without one earthwardglance at her young monitor in their movement to the heaven shesought. Neither did she speak, but pressed, with an unutterableemotion, the hand which now held hers, while his own heart did indeedsilently re-echo the prayer he saw in her upward eyes. Turning gentlyaway, he glided, in a suffusion of grateful tears, out of theapartment. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

REQUIESCAT IN PACE. 

The dream-like amazement which enveloped the count's faculties afterthe preceding scene was dissipated next morning by the appearance ofDr. Cavendish. When he saw the general, he declared it to be hisopinion that, in consequence of his long and tranquil slumbers, somefavorable crisis seemed near. "Probably, " added he, "the recovery ofhis intellects. Such phenomena in these cases often happenimmediately before death. "

"Heaven grant it may in this!" ejaculated Thaddeus; "to hear hisvenerable voice again acknowledge that I have acted by him as becamethe grandson of his friend, would be a comfort to me. "

"But, sir, " replied the kind physician, touching his burning hand, "you must not forget the cares which are due to your own life. If youwish well to the general during the few days he may have to live, youare indispensably obliged to preserve your own strength. You arealready ill, and require air. I have an hour of leisure, " continuedhe, pulling out his watch; "I will remain here till you have takentwo or three walks round St. James's Park. It is absolutelynecessary; in this instance I must take the privilege of friendship, and insist on obedience. "

Seeing the benevolent Cavendish would not be denied, Thaddeus tookhis hat, and with harassed spirits walked down the lane towardsCharing Cross. 

On entering Spring Garden gate, to his extreme surprise the firstobjects that met his sight were Miss Euphemia Dundas and MissBeaufort. 

Euphemia accosted him with ten thousand inquiries respecting hisfriend, besides congratulations on his own good looks. 

Thaddeus bowed; then smiling faintly, turned to the blushing Mary, who, conscious of what had passed in the late conversation betweenherself and Lady Tinemouth, trembled so much that, fearing to excitethe suspicion of Euphemia by such tremor, she withdrew her arm, andwalked forward alone, tottering at every step. 

"I thought, Miss Beaufort, " said he, addressing himself to her, "thatLady Tinemouth was to have had the happiness of your company atHarwold Park?"

"Yes, " returned she, fearfully raising her eyes to his face, thehectic glow of which conveyed impressions to her different from thosewhich Euphemia expressed; "but to my indescribable alarm anddisappointment, the morning after I had written to fix my departurewith her ladyship, my aunt's foot caught in the iron of the stair-carpet as she was coming down stairs, and throwing her from the topto the bottom, broke her leg. I could not quit her a moment duringher agonies; and the surgeons having expressed their fears that afever might ensue, I was obliged altogether to decline my attendanceon the countess. "

"And how is Miss Dorothy?" inquired Thaddeus, truly concerned at theaccident. 

"She is better, though confined to her bed, " replied Euphemia, speaking before her companion could open her lips; "and, indeed, poorMary and myself have been such close nurses, my mother insisted onour walking out to-day. "

"And Lady Tinemouth, " returned Thaddeus, again addressing MissBeaufort, "of course she went alone?"

"Alas, yes!" replied she; "Miss Egerton was forced to join her familyin Leicestershire. "

"I believe, " cried Euphemia, sighing, "Miss Egerton is going to bemarried. Hers has been a long attachment. Happy girl! I have heardCaptain Ross say (whose lieutenant her intended husband was) that heis the finest young man in the navy. Did you ever see Mr. Montresor?"added she, turning her pretty eyes on the count. 

"I never had that pleasure. "

"Bless me! that is odd, considering your intimacy with Miss Egerton. I assure you he is very charming. "

Thaddeus neither heard this nor a great deal more of the sametrifling chit-chat which was slipping from the tongue of MissEuphemia, so intently were his eyes (sent by his heart) searching thedowncast but expressive countenance of Miss Beaufort. His soul wasfull; and the fluctuations of her color, with the embarrassment ofher step, more than affected him. 

"Then you do not leave town for some time, Miss Beaufort?" inquiredhe; "I may yet anticipate the honor of seeing--" he hesitated amoment, then added in a depressed tone--"your aunt, when I next waiton the Misses Dundas. "

"Our stay depends entirely on her health" returned she, striving torally herself; "and I am sure she will be happy to find you better;for I am sorry to say I cannot agree with Euphemia in thinking youlook well. "

"Merely a slight indisposition, " replied he, "the effect of ananxiety which I fear will too soon cease in the death of its cause. Icame out now for a little air, whilst the physician remains with myrevered friend. "

"Poor old gentleman!" sighed Mary; "how venerable was his appearancethe morning in which we saw him in the Park! What a benigncountenance!"

"His countenance, " replied Thaddeus, his eyes turning mournfullytowards the lovely speaker, "is the emblem of his character. He wasthe most amiable of men. "

"And you are likely to lose so interesting a friend; dear Mr. Constantine, how I pity you!" While Euphemia uttered these words, sheput the corner of her glove to her eye. 

The count looked at her, and perceiving that her commiseration wasaffectation, he turned to Miss Beaufort, who was walking pensively byhis side, and made further inquiries respecting Miss Dorothy. Anxiousto be again with his invalid, he was preparing to quit them, whenMary, as with a full heart she curtseyed her adieu, in a hurried andconfused manner, said--"Pray, Mr. Constantine, take care of yourself. You have other friends besides the one you are going to lose. I knowLady Tinemouth, I know my aunt--" She stopped short, and, coveredwith blushes, stood panting for another word to close the sentence;when Thaddeus, forgetting all presence but her own, with delightedprecipitancy caught hold of the hand which, in her confusion, was alittle extended towards him, and pressing it with fervor, relinquished it immediately; then, overcome by confusion at thepresumption of the action, he bowed with agitation to both ladies, and hastened through the Friary passage into St. James's Street. 

"Miss Beaufort!" cried Euphemia, reddening with vexation, andreturning a perfumed handkerchief to her pocket, "I did notunderstand that you and Mr. Constantine were on such intimate terms!"

"What do you mean, Euphemia?"

"That you have betrayed the confidence I reposed in you, " cried theangry beauty, wiping away the really starting tears with her whitelace cloak. "I told you the elegant Constantine was the lord of myheart; and you have seduced him from me! Till you came, he was sorespectful, so tender, so devoted! Bat I am rightly used! I ought tohave carried my secret to the grave. "

In vain Miss Beaufort protested; in vain she declared herselfignorant of possessing any power over even one wish of Constantine's. Euphemia thought it monstrous pretty to be the injured friend andforsaken mistress; and all along the Park, and up Constitution-hill, until they arrived at Lady Dundas's carriage, which was waitingopposite Devonshire wall, she affected to weep. When seated, shecontinued her invectives. She called Miss Beaufort ungenerous, perfidious, traitor to friendship, and every romantic and disloyalname which her inflamed fancy could devise; till the sight of HarleyStreet checked her transports, and relieved her patient hearer from aload of impertinence and reproach. 

During this short interview, Thaddeus had received an impulse to hisaffections which hurried them forward with a force that neither timenor succeeding sorrows could stop nor stem. 

Mary's heavenly-beaming eyes seemed to have encircled his head withlove's purest halo. The command, "Preserve yourself for othersbesides your dying friend, " yet throbbed at his heart; and with tenthousand rapturous visions flitting before his sight, he trod in air, until the humble door of his melancholy home presenting itself, atonce wrecked the illusion, and offered sad reality in the person ofhis emaciated friend. 

On the count's entrance to the sick chamber, Doctor Cavendish gavehim a few directions to pursue when the general should awake from thesleep into which he had been sunk for so many hours. With a heart themore depressed from its late unusual exaltation, Thaddeus sat down atthe side of the invalid's bed for the remainder of the day. 

At five in the afternoon, General Butzou awoke. Seeing the count, hestretched out his withered hand, and as the doctor predicted, accosted him rationally. 

"Come, dear Sobieski! Come nearer, my dear master. "

Thaddeus rose, and throwing himself on his knees, took the offeredhand with apparent composure. It was a hard struggle to restrain theemotions which were roused by this awful contemplation the return ofreason to the soul on the instant she was summoned into the presenceof her Maker!

"My kind, my beloved lord!" added Butzou, "to me you have indeedperformed a Christian's part; you have clothed, sheltered andpreserved me in your bosom. Blessed son of my most honored master!"

The good old man put the hand of Thaddeus to his lips. Thaddeus couldnot speak. 

"I am going, dear Sobieski, " continued the general, in a lower voice, "where I shall meet your noble grandfather, your mother, and my bravecountrymen; and if Heaven grants me power, I will tell them by whoselabor I have lived, on whose breast I have expired. "

Thaddeus could no longer restrain his tears. 

"Dear, dear general!" exclaimed he, grasping his hand; "mygrandfather, my mother, my country! I lose them all again in thee! O!would that the same summons took me hence!"

"Hush!" returned the dying man; "Heaven reserves you, my honoredlord, for wise purposes. Youth and health are the marks ofcommission: [Footnote: I cannot but pause here, in revising thevolume, to publicly express the emotion (grateful to Heaven) Iexperienced on receiving a letter quoting these words, many, manyyears ago. It was from the excellent Joseph Fox, the well-knownChristian philanthropist of our country, who spent both his fortuneand his life in establishing and sustaining several of our bestcharitable and otherwise patriotic institutions. And once, when someof his anxious friends would gladly have persuaded him to granthimself more personal indulgences, and to labor less in the thenrecently-begun plans for national education, he wrote "to the authorof Thaddeus of Warsaw, " and, quoting to her those words from thework, declared "they were on his heart! and he would, with theblessing of God, perform what he believed to be his commission to thelast powers of his youth and health. "

This admirable man has now been long removed to his heavenly country--to the everlasting dwelling-place of the just made perfect. And suchrecollections cannot but make an historical novel-writer at leastfeel answerable for more, in his or her pages, than the purposes ofmere amusement. They guide by examples. Plutarch, in his lives ofGrecian and Roman Worthies taught more effectually the heroic andvirtuous science of life than did all his philosophical works puttogether. ] _you_ possess them, with virtues which will bear youthrough the contest. _I_ have done; and my merciful Judge hasevinced his pardon of my errors by sparing me in my old age, andleading me to die with you. "

Thaddeus pressed his friend's hand to his streaming eyes, andpromised to be resigned. Butzou smiled his satisfaction; then closinghis eyelids, he composed himself to a rest that was neither sleep norstupor, but a balmy serenity, which seemed to be tempering his latelyrecovered soul for its immediate entrance on a world of eternalpeace. 

At nine o'clock his breath became broken with quick sighs. Thecount's heart trembled, and he drew closer to the pillow. Butzou felthim; and opening his eyes languidly, articulated, "Raise my head. "

Thaddeus put his arm under his neck, and lifting him up, reclined himagainst his bosom. Butzou grasped his hands, and looking gratefullyin his face, said, "The arms of a soldier should be a soldier'sdeath-bed. I am content. "

He lay for a moment on the breast of the almost fainting Thaddeus;then suddenly quitting his hold, he cried, "I lose you, Sobieski! Butthere is----" and he gazed fixedly forward. 

"I am here, " exclaimed the count, catching his motionless hand. Thedying general murmured a few words more, and turning his face inward, breathed his last sigh on the bosom of his last friend. 

For a minute Sobieski continued incapable of thought or action. Whenhe recovered recollection, he withdrew from his melancholy station. Laying the venerable remains back on the bed, he did not trust hisrallied faculties with a second trial, but hastening down stairs, wasmet by Mrs. Robson. 

"My dear madam, " said he, "all is over with my poor friend. Will youdo me the kindness to perform those duties to his sacred relics whichI cannot?"

Thaddeus would not allow any person to watch by his friend's coffinbesides himself. The meditations of this solitary night presented tohis sound and sensible mind every argument rather to induce rejoicingthan regret that the eventful life of the brave Butzou wasterminated. 

"Yes, illustrious old man!" cried he, gazing on his marble features;"if valor and virtue be the true sources of nobility, thou surelywast noble! Inestimable defender of Stanislaus and thy country! thouhast run a long and bright career; and though thou art fated to restin the humble grave of poverty, it will be embalmed by the tears ofHeaven--it will be engraven on my heart. "

Thaddeus did not weep whilst he spoke. Nor did he weep when he beheldthe mold of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, close from his view the lastremains of his friend. It began to rain. The uncovered head of theofficiating minister was wet; and so was that of a little delicateboy, in a black cloak, who stood near, holding the aged rector's hatduring the service. As the shower descended faster, Dr. Cavendish puthis arm through the count's to draw him away, but he lingered aninstant, looking on the mold while the sexton piled it up. "WretchedPoland!" sighed he; "how far from thee lies one of thy bravest sons!"The words were breathed in so low a murmur, that none heard themexcept the ear of Heaven! and that little boy, whose gaze had beensome time fixed on Thaddeus, and whose gentle heart never forgotthem. 

Dr. Cavendish, regarding with redoubled pity the now doubly desolatedexile in this last resignation of his parental friend to a foreigngrave, attempted to persuade him to return with him to dinner. Herefused the kind invitation, alleging, with a faint smile, that underevery misfortune he found his best comforter in solitude. 

Respecting the resignation and manliness of this answer, DoctorCavendish urged him no further; but expressing his regret that hecould not see him again until the end of the week, as he was obligedto go to Stanford next day on a medical consultation, he shook handswith him at the door of Mrs. Robson and bade him farewell. 

Thaddeus entered his lonely room, and fell on his knees before the"ark of his strength, "--the Holy Book, that had been the gift of hismother. The first page he opened presented to him the very wordswhich had poured consolation onto his sad heart, from the lips of thevenerable clergyman when he met him on his entrance into the church-porch before the coffin of his friend!

"I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord. He thatbelieveth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; andwhosoever liveth, and believeth in me, shall never die. "

After reading this, how truly did the young mourner feel that "Deathhad lost its sting--the grave its victory. "

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XXXV. 

DEEP ARE THE PURPOSES OF ADVERSITY. 

Next morning, when the Count Sobieski unfolded the several packets ofpapers which were put into his hands by little Nanny, he laid themone after the other on the table, and sighing heavily, said tohimself, "Now comes the bitterness of poverty! Heaven only knows bywhat means I shall pay these heavy charges. "

Mere personal privations, induced by his fallen fortunes, excitedlittle uneasiness in the mind of Thaddeus. As he never had derivedpeculiar gratification from the enjoyment of a magnificent house, splendid table, and numerous attendants, he was contented in thefield, where he slept on the bare ground, and snatched his hastymeals at uncertain intervals. Watching, rough fare, and otherhardships were dust in the path of honor; he had dashed through themwith light and buoyant spirits; and he repined as little at theactual wants of his forlorn state in exile, until, compelled byfriendship to contract demands which he could not defray, he wasplunged at once into the full horrors of poverty and debt. 

He looked at the amount of the bills. The apothecary was twelvepounds; the funeral fifteen. Thaddeus turned pale. The value of allthat he possessed would not produce one half of the sum; besides, heowed five guineas to his good landlady for numerous little comfortsprocured for his deceased friend. 

"Whatever be the consequence, " cried he, "that excellent woman shallnot suffer by her humanity! If I have to pay with the last memorialof those who were so dear, she shall be repaid. "

He scarcely had ceased speaking, when Nanny re-entered the room, andtold him the apothecary's young man and the undertaker were bothbelow, waiting for answers to their letters. Reddening with disgustat the unfeeling haste of these men, he desired Nanny to say that hecould not see either of them to-day, but would send to their housesto-morrow. 

In consequence of this promise, the men made their bows to Mrs. Robson (who too well guessed the reason of this message), and tooktheir leave. 

When Thaddeus put the pictures of his mother and the palatine, withother precious articles, into his pocket, he could not forbear aninternal invective against the thoughtless meanness of the MissesDundas, who had never offered any further liquidation of the largesum they now stood indebted to him than the trifling note which hadbeen transmitted to him, prior to his attendance, through the handsof Lady Tinemouth. 

Whilst his necessities reproached them for this illiberal conduct, his proud heart recoiled at making a request to their chanty; for hehad gathered from the haughty demeanor of Miss Diana that what he wasentitled to demand would be given, not as a just remuneration forlabor received, but as alms of humanity to an indigent emigrant. 

"I would rather perish, " cried he, putting on his hat, "than ask thatwoman for a shilling. "

When the count laid his treasure on the table of the worthypawnbroker, he desired to have the value of the settings of thepictures, and the portraits themselves put into leather cases. Withthe other little things, there were a pair of gold spurs, thepeculiar insignia of his princely rank, which the palatine himselfhad buckled on his grandson's heels on mounting his noble charger forhis first field. There was a peculiar pang in parting with these--asort of last relic of what he had been! But there was no alternative:all that had any intrinsic value must pass from him. 

Having examined the setting of the miniatures, and the gold of theother trinkets, with that of the spurs (which their hard service hadsomething marred), Mr. Burket declared, on the word of an honest man, that he could not give more than fifteen pounds. 

With difficulty Thaddeus stifled as torturing a sigh as everdistended his breast, whilst he said, "I will take it, I only implore you to be careful of the things, trifling as they are; circumstances with which they were connectedrender them valuable to me to redeem. "

"You may depend on me, sir, " replied the pawnbroker, presenting himthe notes and acknowledgment. 

When Thaddeus took them, Mr. Burket's eye was caught by the ring onhis finger. 

"That ring seems curious? If you won't think me impertinent, may Iask to look at it?"

The count pulled it off, and forcing a smile, replied, "I suppose itis of little jewel value. The setting is slight, though the paintingis fine. "

Burket breathed on the diamonds. "If you were to sell it, " returnedhe, "I don't think it would fetch more than three guineas. Thediamonds are flawed, and the emeralds would be of little use, beingout of fashion here; as for the miniature, it goes for nothing. "

"Of course, " said Thaddeus, putting it on again; "but I shall notpart with it. " While he drew on his glove, Mr. Burket asked him"whether the head were not intended for the King of Poland?"

The count, surprised, answered in the affirmative. 

"I thought so, " answered the man; "it is very like two or threeprints which I had in my shop of that king. [Footnote: The authorhas a very correct likeness of this memorable king, copied from anoriginal miniature; and it is not one of the least valued portraitsin a little room which contains those of several other heroes ofdifferent countries, --friends and gallant foes. ] Indeed, I believe Ihave them somewhere now: these matters are but a nine-day's wonder, and the sale is over. "

His auditor did not clearly comprehend him, and he told him so. 

"I meant nothing, " continued he, "to the disparagement of the King ofPoland, or of any other great personage who is much the subject ofconversation. I only intended to say that everything has its fashion. The ruin of Poland was the fashionable topic for a month after ithappened; and now nobody minds it--it is forgotten. "

Thaddeus, in whose bosom all its miseries were written, with aclouded brow bowed to the remarks of Mr. Burket, and in silencequitted the shop. 

Having arrived at home, he discharged his debt to the worthy Mrs. Robson; then entering his room, he laid the remainder of his money onthe bills of the two claimants. It was unequal to the demands ofeither; yet, in some measure to be just to both, he determined ondividing it between them and to promise the liquidation of the restby degrees. 

Surely he might hope that, even should the Misses Dundas entirelyforget his claims on them, he could, in the course of time makedrawings sufficient to discharge the residue of this debt; but he wasnot permitted to put this calculation to the trial. 

When he called on the apothecary, and offered him only half hisdemand, the man refused it with insolence, insisting upon having thewhole then, "or he would make him pay for it!" Unused to the languageof compulsion and vulgarity, the count quitted the shop saying "hewas at liberty to act as he thought fit. " With no very serenecountenance, he entered the undertaker's warehouse. This man wascivil; to him Thaddeus gave the entire sum, half of which theapothecary had rejected with so much derision. The undertaker'spoliteness a little calmed the irritated feelings of the count, whoreturned home musing on the vile nature of that class of mankind whocan with indifference heap insult upon distress. 

Judging men by his own disposition, he seldom gave credence to thepossibility of such conduct. He had been told of dastardly spirits, but never having seen them, and possessing no archetype within hisown breast of what he heard, the repeated relation passed over hismind without leaving an impression. He had entered the world filledwith animating hopes of virtue and renown. He was virtuous; he becamepowerful, great, and renowned. Creation seemed paradise to his eyes;it was the task of adversity to teach him a different lesson ofmankind. Not less virtuous, not less great, his fortunes fell: hebecame poor. The perfidy, the hard-heartedness of man, made and kepthim friendless. When he wanted succor and consolation, he found theworld peopled by a race too mean even to bear the stamp of the devil. 

Whilst Sobieski was employed next morning at his drawing, Mrs. Robsonsent Nanny to say that there were two strange-looking men below whowanted to speak with him. Not doubting they were messengers from theapothecary, he desired the girl to show them up stairs. When theyentered his room, the count rose. One of the men stepped forward, andlaying a slip of paper on the table, said, "I arrest you, sir, at thesuit of Messrs. Vincent and Jackson, apothecaries!"

Thaddeus colored; but suppressing his indignant emotion, he calmlyasked the men whither they were going to take him?

"If you like, " replied one of them, "you may be well enough lodged. Inever heard a word against Clement's in Wych Street. "

"Is that a prison?" inquired Thaddeus. 

"No, not exactly that, sir, " answered the other man, laughing. "Youseem to know little of the matter, which, for a Frenchman, is oddenough; but mayhap you have never a lock-upd-house in France, sinceye pulled down the bastile! Howsoever, if you pay well, Mr. Clementswill give you lodgings as long as you like. It is only poor rogueswho are obligated to go to Newgate; such gemmen as you can live asginteely in Wych Street as at their own houses. "

There was such an air of derision about this fellow while he spoke, and glanced around the room, that Thaddeus, sternly contracting hisbrows, took no further notice of him, but, turning towards his morecivil companion, said:

"Has this person informed me rightly? Am I going to a prison, or am Inot? If I do not possess money to pay Mr. Jackson, I can have none tospend elsewhere. "

"Then you must go to Newgate!" answered the man, in as surly a toneas his comrade's had been insolent. 

"I'll run for a coach, Wilson, " cried the other, opening the roomdoor. 

"I will not pay for one, " said Thaddeus, at once comprehending thesort of wretches into whose custody he had fallen; "follow me downstairs. I shall walk. "

Mrs. Robson was in her shop as he passed to the street. She calledout, "You will come home to dinner, sir?"

"No, " replied he; "but you shall hear from me before night. " "Themen, winking at each other, sullenly pursued his steps down the lane. In the Strand, Thaddeus asked them which way he was to proceed?"

"Straight on, " cried one of them; "most folks find the road to a jaileasy enough. "

Involved in thought, the count walked forward, unmindful of the starewhich the well-known occupation of his attendants attracted towardshim. When he arrived at Somerset House, one of the men stepped up tohim, and said, "We are now nearly opposite Wych Street. You hadbetter take your mind again, and go there instead of Newgate. I don'tthink your honor will like the debtor's hole. "

Thaddeus, coldly thanking him, repeated his determination to be ledto Newgate. But when he beheld the immense walls within which hebelieved he should be immured for life, his feet seemed rooted to theground; and when the massive doors were opened and closed upon him, he felt as if suddenly deprived of the vital spring of existence. Amist spread over his eyes, his soul shuddered, and with difficulty hefollowed the men into the place where his commitment was to beratified. Here all the proud energies of his nature again ralliedround his heart. 

The brutal questions of the people in office, re-echoed by tauntsfrom the wretches who had brought him to the prison, were of a natureso much beneath his answering, that he stood perfectly silent duringthe business; and when dismissed, without evincing any signs ofdiscomposure, he followed the turnkey to his cell. 

One deal chair, a table, and a miserable bed, were all the furnitureit contained. The floor was paved with flags, and the sides of theapartment daubled with discolored plaster, part of which, having beenpeeled off by the damp, exposed to view large spaces of the nakedstones. 

Before the turnkey withdrew he asked Thaddeus whether he wantedanything?

"Only a pen, ink, and paper. "

The man held out his hand. 

"I have no money, " replied Sobieski. 

"Then you get nothing here, " answered the fellow, pulling the doorafter him. 

Thaddeus threw himself on the chair, and in the bitterness of hisheart exclaimed, "Can these scoundrels be Christians?--can they bemen?" He cast his eyes round him with the wildness of despair. "Mysterious Heaven, can it be possible that for a few guineas I am tobe confined in this place for life? In these narrow bounds am I towaste my youth, my existence? Even so; I cannot, I will not, degradethe spirit of Poland by imploring assistance from any native of aland in which avarice has extinguished the feelings of humanity. "

By the next morning, the first paroxysm of indignation havingsubsided, Thaddeus entertained a cooler and more reasonable opinionof his situation. He considered that though he was a prisoner, it wasin consequence of debts incurred in behalf of a friend whose latterhours were rendered less wretched by such means. Notwithstanding "allthat man could do unto him, " he had brought an approving conscienceto lighten the gloom of his dungeon; and resuming his wontedserenity, he continued to distance the impertinent freedom of hisjailers by a calm dignity, which extorted civility and commandedrespect. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

AN ENGLISH PRISON. 

Several days elapsed without the inhabitants of Harley Street hearingany tidings of Thaddeus. 

Miss Dundas never bestowed a thought on his absence, except when, descanting on her favorite subject, "the insolence of dependentpeople, " she alleged his daring to withdraw himself as an instance. Miss Euphemia uttered all her complaints to Miss Beaufort, whom sheaccused of not being satisfied with seducing the affections of Mr. Constantine, but she must also spirit him away, lest by remorse heshould be induced to renew his former devotion at the shrine of hertried constancy. 

Mary found these secret conferences very frequent and very teasing. She believed neither the count's past devoirs to Euphemia nor hispresent allegiance to herself. With anxiety she watched the slowdecline of every succeeding day, hoping that each knock at the doorwould present either himself or an apology for his absence. 

In vain her reason urged the weakness and folly of giving way to theinfluence of a sentiment as absorbing as it was unforeseen. "It isnot his personal graces, " murmured she, whilst her dewy eyes remainedriveted on the floor; "they have not accomplished this effect on me!No; matchless as he is, though his countenance, when illumined by thesplendors of his mind, expresses consummate beauty, yet my hearttells me I would rather see all that perfection demolished than loseone beam of those bright charities which first attracted my esteem. Yes, Constantine!" cried she, rising in agitation, "I could adore thyvirtues were they even in the bosom of deformity. It is these that Ilove; it is these that are thyself! it is thy noble, godlike soulthat so entirely fills my heart, and must forever!"

She recalled the hours which, in his society, had glided so swiftlyby to pass in review before her. They came, and her tears redoubled. Neither his words nor his looks had been kinder to her than to MissEgerton or to Lady Sara Ross. She remembered his wild action in thepark: it had transported her at the moment; it even now made herheart throb; but she ceased to believe it intended more than ananimated expression of gratitude. 

An adverse apprehension seemed to have taken possession of herbreast. In proportion to the vehemence of Miss Euphemia's reproaches(who insisted on the passion of Thaddeus for Mary), she the moredoubted the evidence of those delightful emotions which had rushedover her soul when she found her hand so fervently pressed in his. Euphemia never made a secret of the tenderness she professed; andMiss Beaufort having been taught by her own heart to read distinctlythe eyes of Lady Sara, the result of her observations had long actedas a caustic on her peace; it had often robbed her cheeks of theirbloom, and compelled her to number the lingering minutes of the nightwith sighs. But her deep and modest flame assumed no violence;removed far from sight, it burnt the more intensely. 

Instead of over-valuing the fine person of Thaddeus, the encomiumswhich it extorted, even from the lips of prejudice, occasioned onesource of her pain. She could not bear to think it probable that theman whom she believed, and knew, to be gifted with every attribute ofgoodness and of heroism, might one day be induced to sacrifice therich treasure of his mind to a creature who would select him from therest merely on account of his external superiority. 

Such was the train of Mary's meditations. Covering her face with herhandkerchief, she exclaimed in a tender and broken voice, "Ah, whydid I leave my quiet home to expose myself to the vicissitudes ofsociety? Sequestered from the world, neither its pageants nor itsmortifications could have reached me there. I have seen thee, matchless Constantine! Like a bright planet, thou has passed beforeme!--like a being of a superior order! And I never, never can debasemy nature to change that love. Thy image shall follow me intosolitude--shall consecrate my soul to the practice of every virtue! Iwill emulate thy excellence, when, perhaps, thou hast forgotten thatI exist. "

The fit of despondence which threatened to succeed this lastmelancholy reflection was interrupted by the sudden entrance ofEuphemia. Miss Beaufort hastily rose, and drew her ringlets over hereyes. 

"O, Mary!" cried the little beauty, holding up her pretty hands, "what do you think has happened?"

"What?" demanded she in alarm, and hastening towards the door;"anything to my aunt?"

"No, no, " answered Euphemia, catching her by the arm; "but could myinjured heart derive satisfaction from revenge, I should now behappy. Punishment has overtaken the faithless Constantine. "

Miss Beaufort looked aghast, and grasping the back of the chair toprevent her from falling, breathlessly inquired what she meant?

"Oh! he is sent to prison, " cried Euphemia, not regarding the realagitation of her auditor (so much was she occupied in appearingoverwhelmed herself), and wringing her hands, she continued, "Thatfrightful wretch Mr. Lascelles is just come in to dinner. You cannotthink with what fiendish glee he told me that several days ago, as hewas driving out of town, he saw Mr. Constantine, with two bailiffsbehind him, walking down Fleet Street! And, besides, I verily believehe said he had irons on. "

"No, no!" ejaculated Mary, with a cry of terror, at this _adlibitum_ of Euphemia's; "what can he have done?"

"Bless me!" returned Euphemia, staring at her pale face; "why, whatfrightens you so? Does not everybody run in debt, without mindingit?"

Miss Beaufort shook her head, and looking distractedly about, put herhand to her forehead. Euphemia, determining not to be outdone in"tender woe, " drew forth her handkerchief, and putting it to hereyes, resumed in a piteous tone--

"I am sure I shall hate Lascelles all my life, because he did notstop the men and inquire what jail they were taking him to? You know, my clear, you and I might have visited him. It would have beendelightful to have consoled his sad hours! We might have planned hisescape. "

"In irons!" ejaculated Mary, raising her tearless eyes to heaven. 

Euphemia colored at the agonized manner in which these words werereiterated, and rather confusedly replied, "Not absolutely in irons. You know that is a metaphorical term for captivity. "

"Then he was not in irons?" cried Miss Beaufort, seizing her handeagerly: "for Heaven's sake, tell me he was not in irons? '"'

"Why, then, " returned Euphemia, half angry at being obliged tocontradict herself, "if you are so dull of taste, and cannotunderstand poetical language, I must tell you he was not. "

Mary heard no further, but even at the moment, overcome by arevulsion of joy, sunk, unable to speak, into the chair. 

Euphemia, supposing she had fainted, flew to the top of the stairs, and shrieking violently, stood wringing her hands, until Diana andLady Dundas, followed by several gentlemen, hastened out of thesaloon and demanded what was the matter? As Euphemia pointed to MissBeaufort's dressing-room, she staggered, and sinking into the arms ofLord Elesmere, fell into the most outrageous hysterics. The marquis, who had just dropped in on his return from St. James's, was so afraidof the agitated lady's tearing his point-lace ruffles, that, inalmost as trembling a state as herself, he gladly shuffled her intothe hands of her maid; and scampering down stairs, as if all Bedlamwere at his heels, sprung into his _vis-à-vis_, and drove offlike lightning. 

When Miss Beaufort recovered her scattered senses, and beheld thisinflux of persons entering her room, she tried to dispel herconfusion, and rising gently from her seat, while supporting herselfon the arm of Miss Dorothy's maid, thanked the company for theirattention and withdrew into her chamber. 

Meanwhile, Euphemia, who had been carried down into the saloon, thought it time to raise her lily head and utter a few incoherentwords. The instant they were breathed, Miss Dundas and Mr. Lascelles, in one voice, demanded what was the matter?

"Has not Mary told you?" returned her sister, languidly opening hereyes. 

"No, " answered Lascelles, rubbing his hands with delighted curiosity;"come, let us have it. "

Euphemia, pleased at this, and loving mystery with all her heart, waved her hand solemnly, and in an awful tone replied, "Then itpasses not my lips. "

"What, Phemy!" cried he, "you want us to believe you have seen aghost? But you forget, they don't walk at midday. "

"Believe what you like, " returned she, with an air of consequentialcontempt; "I am satisfied to keep the secret. "

Miss Dundas burst into a provoking laugh; and calling her the mostincorrigible little idiot in the world, encouraged Lascelles to foolher to the top of his bent. Determining to gratify his spleen, if hecould not satisfy his curiosity, this witless coxcomb continued thewhole day in Harley Street, for the mere pleasure of tormentingEuphemia. From the dinner hour until twelve at night, neither hisdrowsy fancy nor wakeful malice could find one other weapon ofassault than the stale jokes of mysterious chambers, loversincognito, or the silly addition of two Cupid-struck sweeps poppingdown the chimney to pay their addresses to the fair friends. Dianatalked of Jupiter with his thunder; and patting her sister under thechin, added, "I cannot doubt that Miss Beaufort is the favoredSemelé; but, my dear, you over-acted your character? As confidant, afew tears were enough when your lady fainted. " During these attacks, Euphemia reclined pompously on a sofa, and not deigning a reply, repelled them with much conceit and haughtiness. 

Miss Beaufort remained above an hour alone in her chamber before sheventured to go near her aunt. Hurt to the soul that the idle folly ofEuphemia should have aroused a terror which had completely unveiledto the eyes of that inconsiderate girl the empire which Thaddeus heldover her fate, Mary, overwhelmed with shame, and arraigning her easycredulity, threw herself on her bed. 

Horror-struck at hearing he was led along the streets in chains, shecould have no other idea but that, betrayed into the commission ofsome dreadful deed, he had become amenable to the laws, and mightsuffer an ignominious death. Those thoughts having rushed at once onher heart, deprived her of self-command. In the conviction of somefatal rencontre, she felt as if her life, her honor, her soul, wereannihilated. And when, in consequence of her agonies, Euphemiaconfessed that she had in this last matter told a falsehood, thesudden peace to her soul had for an instant assumed the appearance ofinsensibility. 

Before Miss Beaufort quitted her room, various plans were suggestedby her anxiety and inexperience, how to release the object of herthoughts. She found no hesitation in believing him poor, and perhapsrendered wretchedly so by the burden of that sick friend, who, shesuspected, might be a near relation. At any rate, she resolved thatanother sun should not pass over her head and shine on him in aprison. Having determined to pay his debts herself, she next thoughtof how she might manage the affair without discovering the handwhence the assistance came. Had her aunt been well enough to leavethe house, she would not have scrupled unfolding to her the recentcalamity of Mr. Constantine. But well aware that Miss Dorothy'smaidenly nicety would be outraged at a young woman appearing the solemover in such an affair, she conceived herself obliged to withholdher confidence at present, and to decide on prosecuting the wholetransaction alone. 

In consequence of these meditations, her spirits became lessdiscomposed. Turning towards Miss Dorothy Somerset's apartments, shefound the good lady sipping her coffee. 

"What is this I have just heard, my dear Mary? Williams tells me youhave been ill!"

Miss Beaufort returned her aunt's gracious inquiry with anaffectionate kiss; and informing her that she had only been alarmedby an invention of Miss Euphemia's, begged that the subject mightdrop, it being merely one out of the many schemes which she believedthat young lady had devised to render her visit to London as littlepleasant as possible. 

"Ah!" replied Miss Dorothy, "I hope I shall be well enough to travelin the course of a few days. I can now walk with a stick; and upon myword, I am heartily tired both of Lady Dundas and her daughters. "

Mary expressed similar sentiments; but as the declaration passed herlips, a sigh almost buried the last word. Go when she would, she mustleave Constantine behind, leave him without an expectation ofbeholding him more--without a hope of penetrating the thick cloudwhich involved him, and with which he had ever baffled any attemptshe had heard to discover his birth or misfortunes. She wept overthis refinement on delicacy, and "loved him dearer for his mystery. "

When the dawn broke next morning, it shone on Miss Beaufort's yetunclosed eyes. Sleep could find no languid faculty in her head whilsther heart was agitated with plans for the relief of Thaddeus. Theidea of visiting the coffee-house to which she knew the Misses Dundasdirected their letters, and of asking questions about a young andhandsome man, made her timidity shrink. 

"But, " exclaimed she, "I am going on an errand which ought not tospread a blush on the cheek of prudery itself. I am going to impartalleviation to the sufferings of the noblest creature that everwalked the earth!" Perhaps there are few persons who, being auditorsof this speech, would have decided quite so candidly on thesuperlative by which it was concluded. Mary herself was not whollydivested of doubt about the issue of her conduct; but conscious thather motive was pure, she descended to the breakfast-room with aquieter mind than countenance. 

Never before having had occasion to throw a gloss on her actions, shescarcely looked up during breakfast. When the cloth was removed, sherose suddenly from her chair, and turning to Miss Dorothy, who sat atthe other end of the parlor, with her foot on a stool, said in a lowvoice, "Good-by, aunt! I am going to make some particular calls; butI shall be back in a few hours. " Luckily, no one observed herblushing face whilst she spoke, nor the manner in which she shookhands with the old lady and hurried out of the room. 

Breathless with confusion, she could scarcely stand when she arrivedin her own chamber; but aware that no time ought to be lost, she tiedon a long, light silk cloak, of sober gray, over her white morning-dress, and covering her head with a straw summer bonnet, shaded by ablack lace veil, hesitated a moment within her chamber-door--her eyesfilling with tears, drawn from her heart by that pure spirit of truthwhich had ever been the guardian of her conduct! Looking up toheaven, she sunk on her knees, and exclaimed with impetuosity, "Father of mercy! thou only knowest my heart! Direct me, I beseechthee! Let me not commit anything unworthy of myself nor of theunhappy Constantine--for whom I would sacrifice my life, but not myduty to thee!"

Reassured by the confidence which this simple act of devotioninspired, she took her parasol and descended the stairs. The porterwas alone in the hall. She inquired for her servant. 

"He is not returned, madam, "

Having foreseen the necessity of getting rid of all attendants, shehad purposely sent her footman on an errand as far as Kensington. 

"It is of no consequence, " returned she to the porter, who was justgoing to propose one of Lady Dundas's men. "I cannot meet withanything disagreeable at this time of day, so I shall walk alone. "

The man opened the door; and with a bounding heart Mary hastened downthe street, crossed the square, and at the bottom of Orchard Streetstepped into a hackney-coach, which she ordered to drive toSlaughter's Coffee-house, St. Martin's Lane. 

She drew up the glasses and closed her eyes. Various thoughtsagitated her anxious mind whilst the carriage rolled along; and whenit drew up at the coffee-house, she involuntarily retreated into thecorner. The coach-door was opened. 

"Will you alight, ma'am?"

"No; call a waiter. "

A waiter appeared; and Miss Beaufort, in a tolerably collected voice, inquired whether Mr. Constantine lived there?

"No, ma'am. "

A cold dew stood on her forehead; but taking courage from a latentand last hope, she added, "I know he has had letters directed to thisplace. "

"Oh! I beg your pardon, ma'am!" returned the man recollectinghimself; "I remember a person of that name has received letters fromhence, but they were always fetched away by a little girl. "

"And do you not know where he lives?"

"No, ma'am, " answered he; "yet some one else in the house may: I willinquire. "

Miss Beaufort bowed her head in token of acknowledgment, and satshivering with suspense until he returned, followed by another man. 

"This person, ma'am, " resumed he, "says he can tell you. "

"Thank you, thank you!" cried Mary; then, blushing at her eagerness, she stopped and drew back into the carriage. 

"I cannot for certain, " said the man, "but I know the girl very wellby sight who comes for the letters; and I have often seen herstanding at the door of a chandler's shop a good way down the lane. Ithink it is No. 5, or 6. I sent a person there who came after thesame gentleman about a fortnight ago. I dare say he lives there. "

Miss Beaufort's expectations sunk again, when she found that she hadnothing but a dare say to depend on; and giving half-a-crown to eachof her informers, she desired the coachman to drive as they woulddirect him. 

While the carriage drove down the lane, with a heart full of fearsshe looked from side to side, almost believing she should know byintuition the house which had contained Constantine. When the manchecked his horses, and her eyes fell on the little mean dwelling ofMrs. Robson, she smothered a deep sigh. 

"Can this be the house in which Constantine has lived? Howcomfortless! And should it not, " thought she, as the man got off thebox to inquire, "whither shall I go for information?"

The appearance of Mrs. Robson, and her immediate affirmative to thequestion, "Are these Mr. Constantine's lodgings?" at once dispelledthis last anxiety. Encouraged by the motherly expression of the goodwoman's manner, Mary begged leave to alight. Mrs. Robson readilyoffered her arm, and with many apologies for the disordered state ofthe house, led her up stairs to the room which had been the count'shouse. 

Mary trembled; but seeing that everything depended on self-command, with apparent tranquillity she received the chair that was presentedto her, and turning her eyes from the books and drawings which toldher so truly in whose apartment she was, she desired Mrs. Robson, whocontinued standing, to be seated. The good woman obeyed. After sometrepidation, Mary asked where Mr. Constantine was? Mrs. Robsoncolored, and looking at her questioner for some time, as if doubtingwhat to say, burst into tears. 

Miss Beaufort's ready eyes were much inclined to flow in concert; butsubduing the strong emotions which shook her, she added, "I do notcome hither out of impertinent curiosity. I have heard of themisfortunes of Mr. Constantine. I am well known to his friends. "

"Dear lady!" cried the good woman, grasping at any prospect of succorto her benefactor: "if he has friends, whoever they are, tell them heis the noblest, most humane gentleman in the world. Tell them he hassaved me and mine from the deepest want; and now he is sent to prisonbecause he cannot pay the cruel doctor who attended the poor deadgeneral. "

"What! is his friend dead?" ejaculated Mary, unable to restrain thetears which now streamed over her face. 

"Yes, " replied Mrs. Robson; "poor old gentleman! he is dead, sureenough; and, Heaven knows, many have been the dreary hours the dearyoung man has watched by his pillow! He died in that room. "

Miss Beaufort's swimming eyes would not allow her to discern objectsthrough the open door of that apartment within which the heart ofThaddeus had undergone such variety of misery. Forming anirresistible wish to know whether the deceased were any relation ofConstantine, she paused a moment to compose the agitation which mightbetray her, and then asked the question. 

"I thought, ma'am, " replied Mrs. Robson, "you said you knew hisfriends?"

"Only his English ones, " returned Mary, a little confused at thesuspicion this answer implied; "I imagined that this old gentlemanmight have been his father or an uncle, or----"

"O no, " interrupted Mrs. Robson, sorrowfully; "he has neither father, mother nor uncle in the wide world. He once told me they were alldead, and that he saw them die. Alas! sweet soul! What a power ofgriefs he must have seen in his young life! But Heaven will favor hisat last; for though he is in misfortune himself, he has been ablessing to the widow and the orphan!"

"Do you know the amount of his debts?" asked Miss Beaufort. 

"Not more than twenty pounds, " returned Mrs. Robson, "when they tookhim out of this room, a week ago, and hurried him away withoutletting me know a word of the matter. I believe to this hour I shouldnot have known where he was, if that cruel Mr. Jackson had not cometo demand all that Mr. Constantine left in my care. But I would notlet him have it. I told him if my lodger had filled my house withbags of gold, _he_ should not touch a shilling; and then heabused me, and told me Mr. Constantine was in Newgate. "

"In Newgate!"

"Yes, madam. I immediately ran there, and found him more able tocomfort me than I was able to speak to him. "

"Then be at rest, my good woman, " returned Miss Beaufort, rising fromher chair; "when you next hear of Mr. Constantine, he shall be atliberty. He has friends who will not sleep till he is out of prison. "

"May Heaven bless you and them, dear lady!" cried Mrs. Robson, weeping with joy; "for they will relieve the most generous heartalive. But I must tell you, " added she, with recollecting energy, "that the costs of the business will raise it to some pounds more. For that wicked Jackson, getting frightened to stand alone in what hehad done, went and persuaded poor weak-minded Mr. Watson, theundertaker, to put in a detainer against Mr. Constantine for theremainder of his bill. So I fear it will be full thirty pounds beforehis kind friends can release him. "

Mary replied, "Be not alarmed: all shall be done. " While she spoke, she cast a wistful look on the drawings on the bureau; thenwithdrawing her eyes with a deep sigh, she descended the stairs. Atthe street-door she took Mrs. Robson's hand, and not relinquishing ituntil she was seated in the coach, pressed it warmly, and leavingwithin it a purse of twenty guineas, ordered the man to return whencehe came. 

Now that the temerity of going herself to learn the particulars ofMr. Constantine's fate had been achieved, determined as she was notto close her eyes whilst the man whom she valued above her liferemained a prisoner and in sorrow, she thought it best to consultwith Miss Dorothy respecting the speediest means of compassing hisemancipation. 

In Oxford Road she desired the coachman to proceed to Harley Street. She alighted at Lady Dundas's door, paid him his fare, and steppedinto the hall before she perceived that a travelling-carriagebelonging to her guardian had driven away to afford room for herhumble equipage. 

"Is Sir Robert Somerset come to town?" she hastily inquired of theporter. 

"No, madam; but Mr. Somerset is just arrived. "

The next minute Miss Beaufort was in the drawing-room, and claspedwithin the arms of her cousin. 

"Dear Mary!"--"Dear Pembroke!" were the first words which passedbetween these two affectionate relatives. 

Miss Dorothy, who doted on her nephew, taking his hand as he seatedhimself between her and his cousin, said, in a congratulatory voice, "Mary, our dear boy has come to town purposely to take us down. "

"Yes, indeed, " rejoined he; "my father is moped to death for want ofyou both. You know I am a sad renegade! Lord Avon and Mr. Loftus havebeen gone these ten days to his lordship's aunt's in Bedfordshire;and Sir Robert is so completely weary of solitude, that he hascommanded me"--bowing to the other ladies--"to run off with all thefair inhabitants of this house sooner than leave you behind. "

"I shall be happy at another opportunity to visit Somerset Hall, "returned Lady Dundas; "but I am constrained to spend this summer inDumbartonshire. I have not yet seen the estate my poor dear SirHector bought of the Duke of Dunbar. "

Pembroke offered no attempt to shake this resolution. In the two orthree morning calls he had formerly made with Sir Robert Somerset onthe rich widow, he saw sufficient to make him regard her arrogantvulgarity with disgust; and for her daughters, they were of tooartificial a stamp to occupy his mind any longer than with a magic-lantern impression of a tall woman with bold eyes, and the prettiestyet most affected little fairy he had ever beheld. 

After half an hour's conversation with this family group, MissBeaufort sunk into abstraction. During the first month of Mary'sacquaintance with Thaddeus, she did not neglect to mention in hercorrespondence with Pembroke having met with a very interesting andaccomplished emigrant, in the capacity of a tutor at Lady Dundas's. But her cousin, in his replies, beginning to banter her on pity beingallied to love, she had gradually dropped all mention ofConstantine's name, as she too truly found by what insensible degreesthe union had taken place within her own breast. She remembered theseparticulars, whilst a new method of accomplishing her present projectsuggested itself; and determining (however extraordinary her conductmight seem) to rest on the rectitude of her motives, a man being themost proper person to transact such a business with propriety, sheresolved to engage Pembroke for her agent, without troubling MissDorothy about the affair. 

So deeply was she absorbed in these reflections, that Somerset, observing her vacant eye fixed on the opposite window, took her handwith an arch smile, and exclaimed. 

"Mary! What is the matter? I hope, Lady Dundas, you have not sufferedany one to run away with her heart? You know I am her cousin, and itis my inalienable right. "

Lady Dundas replied that young ladies best know their own secrets. 

"That may be, madam, " rejoined he; "but I won't allow Miss Beaufortto know anything that she does not transfer to me. Is not that true, Mary?"

"Yes, " whispered she, coloring; "and the sooner you afford me anopportunity to interest you in one, the more I shall be obliged toyou. "

Pembroke pressed her hand in token of assent; and a desultoryconversation continuing for another half-hour, Miss Beaufort, whodreaded the wasting one minute in a day so momentous to her peace, sat uneasily until her aunt proposed retiring to her dressing-room awhile, and requested Pembroke to assist her up stairs. 

When he returned to the drawing-room, to his extreme satisfaction hefound all the party were gone to prepare for their usual drives, excepting Miss Beaufort, who was standing by one of the windows, lostin thought. He approached her, and taking her hand--

"Come, my dear cousin, " said he, "how can I oblige you?"

Mary struggled with her confusion. Had she loved Thaddeus less, shefound she could with greater ease have related the interest which shetook in his fate. She tried to speak distinctly, and she accomplishedit, although her burning cheek and downcast look told to the fixedeye of Pembroke what she vainly attempted to conceal. 

"You can, indeed, oblige me! You must remember a Mr. Constantine! Ionce mentioned him to you in my letters. "

"I do, Mary. You thought him amiable!"

"He was the intimate friend of Lady Tinemouth, " returned she, striving to look up; but the piercing expression she met from theeyes of Somerset, beating hers down again, covered her face and neckwith deeper blushes. She panted for breath. 

"Rely on me, " said Pembroke, pitying her embarrassment, whilst hedreaded that her gentle heart had indeed become the victim of someaccomplished and insidious foreigner--"rely on me, my beloved cousin:consider me as a brother. If you have entangled yourself--"

Miss Beaufort guessed what he would say, and interrupting him, added, with a more assured air, "No, Pembroke, I have no entanglements. I amgoing to ask your friendly assistance on behalf of a brave andunfortunate Polander. " Pembroke reddened and she went on. "Mr. Constantine is a gentleman. Lady Tinemouth tells me he has been asoldier, and that he lost all his possessions in the ruin of hiscountry. Her ladyship introduced him here. I have seen him often, andI know him to be worthy the esteem of every honorable heart. He isnow in prison, in Newgate, for a debt of about thirty pounds, and Iask you to go and release him. That is my request--my secret; and Iconfide in your discretion that you will keep it even from him. "

"Generous, beloved Mary!" cried Pembroke, pressing her hand; "it isthus you always act. Possessed of all the softness of thy sex, dearest girl, " added he, still more affectionately, "nature has notalloyed it with one particle of weakness!"

Miss Beaufort smiled and sighed. If to love tenderly, to be devotedlife and soul to one being, whom she considered as the most perfectwork of creation, be weakness, Mary was the weakest of the weak; andwith a languid despondence at her heart, she was opening her lips togive some directions to her cousin, when the attention of both wasarrested by a shrill noise of speakers talking above stairs. Beforethe cousins had time to make an observation, the disputants descendedtowards the drawing-room, and bursting open the door with a violentclamor, presented the enraged figure of Lady Dundas followed byDiana, who, with a no less swollen countenance, was scoldingvociferously, and dragging forward the weeping Euphemia. 

"Ladies! ladies!" exclaimed Somerset, amazed at so extraordinary ascene; "what has happened?"

Lady Dundas lifted up her clenched hand in a passion. 

"A jade!--a hussy!" cried her vulgar ladyship, incapable ofarticulating more. 

Miss Dundas, still grasping the hands of her struggling sister, brokeout next, and turning furiously towards Mary, exclaimed, "You see, madam, what disgrace your ridiculous conduct to that vagabondforeigner has brought on our family! This bad girl has followed yourexample, and done worse-she has fallen in love with him!"

Shocked, and trembling at so rude an accusation, Miss Beaufort wasunable to speak. Lost in wonder, and incensed at his cousin'sgoodness having been the dupe of imposition. Pembroke stood silent, whilst Lady Dundas took up the subject. 

"Ay, " cried she, shaking her daughter by the shoulder, "you littleminx! if your sister had not picked up these abominable verses youchose to write on the absence of this beggarly fellow, I suppose youwould have finished the business by running off with him! But youshall go down to Scotland, and be locked up for months. I won't haveSir Hector Dundas's family disgraced by a daughter of mine. "

"For pity's sake, Lady Dundas, " said Pembroke, stepping between hershrewish ladyship and the trembling Euphemia, "do compose yourself. Idare say your daughter is pardonable. In these cases, the fault ingeneral lies with our sex. We are the deluders. "

Mary was obliged to reseat herself; and in pale attention shelistened for the reply of the affrighted Euphemia, who, half assuredthat her whim of creating a mutual passion in the breast of Thaddeuswas no longer tenable, without either shame or remorse she exclaimed, "Indeed, Mr. Somerset, you are right; I never should have thought ofMr. Constantine if he had not teased me every time he came with hisdevoted love. "

Miss Beaufort rose hastily from her chair. Though Euphemia colored atthe suddenness of this motion, and the immediate flash she met fromher eye, she went on: "I know Miss Beaufort will deny it, because shethinks he is in love with her; but indeed, indeed, he has sworn athousand times on his knees that he was a Russian nobleman indisguise, and adored me above every one else in the world. "

"Villain!" cried Pembroke, inflamed with indignation at his doubleconduct. Afraid to read in the expressive countenance of Mary hershame and horror at this discovery, he turned his eyes on her withtrepidation; when, to his surprise, he beheld her standing perfectlyunmoved by the side of the sofa from which she had arisen. Sheadvanced with a calm step towards Euphemia, and taking hold of thehand which concealed her face whilst uttering this last falsehood, she drew it away, and regarding her with a serene but penetratinglook, she said: "Euphemia! you well know that you are slandering aninnocent and unfortunate man. You know that never in his life did hegive you the slightest reason to suppose that he was attached to you;for myself, I can also clear him of making professions to me. Uponthe honor of my word, I declare, " added she, addressing herself tothe whole group, "that he never breathed a sentence to me beyond mererespect. By this last deviation of Euphemia from truth, you may forman estimate how far the rest she has alleged deserves credit. "

The young lady burst into a vehement passion of tears. 

"I will not be browbeaten and insulted, Miss Beaufort!" cried she, taking refuge in noise, since right had deserted her. "You know youwould fight his battles through thick and thin, else you would nothave fallen into fits yesterday when I told you he was sent to jail. "

This last assault struck Mary motionless; and Lady Dundas, lifting upher hands, exclaimed, "Good la! keep me from the forward misses ofthese times! As for you, Miss Euphemia, " added she, seizing herdaughter by the arm, "you shall leave town tomorrow morning. I willhave no more tutoring and falling in love in my house; and for you, Miss Beaufort, " turning to Mary, (who, having recovered herself, stood calmly at a little distance, ) "I shall take care to warn MissDorothy Somerset to keep an eye over your conduct. "

"Madam, " replied she, indignantly, "I shall never do anything whichcan dishonor either my family or myself; and of that Miss DorothySomerset is too well assured to doubt for an instant, even shouldcalumny be as busy with me as it has been injurious to Mr. Constantine. "

With the words of Mrs. Robson suddenly reverberating on her heart, "He has no father, no mother, no kindred in this wide world!" shewalked towards the door. When she passed Mr. Somerset, who stoodbewildered and frowning near Miss Dundas, she turned her eyes on hercousin, full of the effulgent pity in her soul, and said, in acollected and decisive voice, "Pembroke, I shall leave the room; but, remember, I do not release you from your engagement. "

Staggered by the open firmness of her manner, he looked after her asshe withdrew, and was almost inclined to believe that she possessedthe right side of the argument. Malice did not allow him to think solong. The moment the door closed on her, both the sisters fell on himpell-mell; and the prejudiced illiberality of the one, supported bythe ready falsehoods of the other, soon dislodged all favorableimpressions from the mind of Somerset, and filled him anew withdispleasure. 

In the midst of Diana's third harangue, Lady Dundas having orderedEuphemia to be taken to her chamber, Mr. Somerset was left alone, more incensed than ever against the object of their invectives, whomhe now considered in the light of an adventurer, concealing hispoverty, and perhaps his crimes beneath a garb of lies. That such acharacter, by means of a fine person and a few meretricious talents, could work himself into the confidence of Mary Beaufort, pierced hercousin to the soul; and as he mounted the stairs with an intent toseek her in her dressing-room, he almost resolved to refuse obeyingher commands. 

When he opened the room-door, he found Miss Beaufort and his aunt. The instant he appeared, the ever-benevolent face of Miss Dorothycontracted into a frown. 

"Nephew, " cried she, "I shall not take it well of you if you givestronger credence to the passionate and vulgar assertions of LadyDundas and her daughters than you choose to bestow on the triedveracity of your cousin Mary. "

Pembroke was conscious that if his countenance had been a faithfultranscript of his mind, Miss Beaufort did not err in supposing hebelieved the foreigner to be a villain. Knowing that it would beimpossible for him to relinquish his reason into what he nowdenominated the partial hands of his aunt and cousin, he persisted inhis opinion to both the ladies, that their unsuspicious natures hadbeen rendered subservient to knavery and artifice. 

"I would not, my dear madam, " said he, addressing Miss Dorothy, "think so meanly of your sex as to imagine that such atrocity canexist in the female heart as could give birth to ruinous andunprovoked calumnies against an innocent man. I cannot suspect theMisses Dundas of such needless guilt, particularly poor Euphemia, whom I truly pity. Lady Dundas forced me to read her verses, and theywere too full of love and regret for this adventurer to come from thesame breast which could wantonly blacken his character. Such wickedinconsistencies in so young a woman are not half so probable as thatyou, my clear aunt and cousin, have been deceived. 

"Nephew, " returned the old lady, "you are very peremptory. Methinks alittle more lenity of opinion would better become your youth! I knewnothing of this unhappy young man's present distress until MissBeaufort mentioned it to me; but before she breathed a word in hisfavor, I had conceived a very high respect for his merits. From thefirst hour in which I saw him, I gathered by his deportment that hemust be a gentleman, besides a previous act of benevolent bravery, inrescuing at the hazard of his own life two poor children from a housein flames--in all this I saw he must have been born far above hisfortunes. I thought so; I still think so; and, notwithstanding allthat the Dundasses may choose to fabricate, I am determined tobelieve the assertions of an honest countenance. "

Pembroke smiled, whilst he forced his aunt's reluctant hand into his, and said, "I see, my dear madam, you are bigoted to the idol of yourown fancy! I do not presume to doubt this Mr. Constantine's luckyexploits, nor his enchantments: but you must pardon me if I keep mysenses at liberty. I shall think of him as I could almost swear hedeserves, although I am aware that I hazard your affection by myfirmness. " He then turned to Mary, who, with a swelling anddistressed heart, was standing by the chimney. "Forgive me, mydearest cousin, " continued he, addressing her in a softened voice, "that I am forced to appear harsh. It is the first time I everdissented from you; it is the first time I ever thought youprejudiced!"

Miss Beaufort drew the back of her hand over her glistening eyes. Allthe tender affections of Pembroke's bosom smote him at once, andthrowing his arms around his cousin's waist, he strained her to hisbreast, and added, "Ah! why, dear girl, must I love you better forthus giving me pain? Every way my darling Mary is more estimable. Even now, whilst I oppose you, I am sure, though your goodness isabused, it was cheated into error by the affectation of honorableimpulses and disasters!"

Miss Beaufort thought that if the prudence of reserve and decorumdictated silence in some circumstances, in others a prudence of ahigher order would justify her in declaring her sentiments. Accordingly she withdrew from the clasping arms of Mr. Somerset, andwhilst her beautiful figure seemed to dilate into more than its usualdignity, she mildly replied:

"Think what you please, Pembroke; I shall not contend with you. Mr. Constantine is of a nature not to be hidden by obscurity; hischaracter will defend itself; and all that I have to add is this, Ido not release you from your promise. Could a woman transact theaffair with propriety, I would not keep yon to so disagreeable anoffice; but I have passed my word to myself that I will neitherslumber nor sleep till he is out of prison. " She put a pocket-bookinto Pembroke's hand, and added, "Take that, my clear cousin; andwithout suffering a syllable to transpire by which he may suspect whoserved him, accomplish what I have desired, acting by the memorandumyou will find within. "

"I will obey you, Mary, " returned he; "but I am sorry that such rareenthusiasm was not awakened by a worthier object. When you see meagain, I hope I shall be enabled to say that your ill-placedgenerosity is satisfied. "

"Fie, nephew, fie!" cried Miss Dorothy; "I could not have supposedyou capable of conferring a favor so ungraciously. "

Pained at what he called the obstinate infatuation of Miss Beaufort, and if possible more chagrined by what he considered the blind andabsurd encouragement of his aunt, Mr. Somerset lost the whole of herlast reprimand in his hurry to quit the room. 

Disturbed, displeased, and anxious, he stepped into a hackney-coach;and ordering it to drive to Newgate, called on the way at Lincoln'sInn, to take up a confidential clerk of his father's law-agent there, determining by his assistance to go through the business withoutexposing himself to any interview with a man whom he believed to bean artful and unprincipled villain. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

"Calumny is the pastime of little minds, and the venomed shaft ofbase ones. "

The first week of the count's confinement was rendered in some degreetolerable by the daily visits of Mrs. Robson, who, having brought hisdrawing materials, enabled him, through the means of the alwayspunctual printseller, to purchase some civility from the brutal andhardened people who were his keepers. After the good woman hadperformed her diurnal kindness, Thaddeus did not suffer his eyes toturn one moment on the dismal loneliness of his abject prison, buttook up his pencil to accomplish its daily task, and when done, heopened some one of his books, which had also been brought to him, andso sought to beguile his almost hopeless hours, --hopeless with regardto any human hope of ever re-passing those incarcerating walls. Forwho was there but those who had put him there who could now know evenof his existence?

The elasticity and pressing enterprise of soul inherent in worthrenders; no calamity so difficult to be borne as that which bettersits best years and most active virtues under the lock of anycaptivity. Thaddeus felt this benumbing effect in every pulse of hisardent and energetic heart. He retraced all that he had been. Helooked on what he was. Though he had reaped glory when a boy, his"noon of manhood, " his evening sun, was to waste its light and set inan English prison. 

At short and distant intervals such melancholy reveries gave place tothe pitying image of Mary Beaufort. It sometimes visited him in theday--it always was his companion during the night. He courted herlovely ideal as a spell that for a while stole him from painfulreflections. With an entranced soul he recalled every lineament ofher angel--like face, every tender sympathy of that gentle voicewhich had hurried him into the rashness of touching her hand. Onemoment he pressed her gold chain closer to his heart, almostbelieving what Lady Tinemouth had insinuated; the next, he would sighover his credulity, and return with despondent though equally intenselove to the contemplation of her virtues, independent of himself. 

The more he meditated on the purity of her manners, the elevatedprinciples to which he could trace her actions, and, above all, onthe benevolent confidence with which she had ever treated him (a mancontemned by one part of her acquaintance, and merely received ontrust by the remainder), the more he found reasons to regard thatcharacter with his grateful admiration. When he drew a comparisonbetween Miss Beaufort and most women of the same quality whom he hadseen in England and in other countries, he contemplated withdelighted wonder that spotless mind which, having passed through thevarious ordeals annexed to wealth and fashion, still bore itselfuncontaminated. She was beautiful, and she did not regard it; she wasaccomplished, but she did not attempt a display; what she acquiredfrom education, the graces had so incorporated with her nativeintelligence, that the perfection of her character seemed to havebeen stamped at once by the beneficent hand of Providence. 

Never were her numberless attractions so fascinating to Thaddeus aswhen he witnessed the generous eagerness with which, forgetful of herown almost unparalleled talents, she pointed out merit and dispensedapplause to the deserving. Miss Beaufort's nature was gentle andbenevolent; but it was likewise distinguishing and animated. Whilstthe count saw that the urbanity of her disposition made herpoliteness universal, he perceived that neither rank, riches norsplendor, when alone, could extract from her bosom one spark of thatlambet flame which streamed from her heart, like fire to the sun, towards the united glory of genius and virtue. 

He dwelt on her lovely, unsophisticated character with an enthusiasmbordering on idolatry. He recollected that she had been educated bythe mother of Pembroke Somerset; and turning from the doubleremembrance with a sigh fraught with all the bitterness and sweetnessof love, he acknowledged how much wisdom (which includes virtue)gives spirit and immortality to beauty. "Yes, " cried he, "it is thefragrance of the flower, which lives after the bloom is withered. "

From such reflections of various hues Thaddeus was one eveningawakened by the entrance of the chief jailer into his cell. His wasan unusual visit. He presented a sealed packet to his prisoner, saying he brought it from a stranger, who, having paid the debts andcosts for which he was confined, and all the prison dues, hadimmediately gone away, leaving that packet to be instantly deliveredinto the hand of Mr. Constantine. 

While Thaddeus, scarcely crediting the information, was hastilyopening the packet, hoping it might throw some light on hisbenefactor, the jailer civilly withdrew. But the breaking of the sealdiscovered a blank cover only, save these words, in a handwritingunknown to him--"You are free!"--and bank of England notes to theamount of fifty pounds. 

Overwhelmed with surprise, gratitude to Heaven, and to this generousunknown, he sank down into his solitary chair, and tried toconjecture who could have acted the part of such a friend, and yet beso careful to conceal that act of friendship. 

He had seen sufficient proofs of a heedless want of benevolence inMiss Euphemia Dundas to lead him to suppose that she could not be somunificent, and solicitous of secrecy. Besides, how could she havelearned his situation? He thought it was impossible; and thatimpossibility compelled an erratic hope of his present liberty havingsprung from the goodness of Miss Beaufort to pass by him with apainful swiftness. 

"Alas!" cried he, starting from his chair, "it is the indefatigablespirit of Lady Sara Ross that I recognize in this deed! The generousbut unhappy interest which she yet takes in my fate has discovered mylast misfortune, and thus she seeks to relieve me!"

The moment he conceived this idea, he believed it; and taking up apen, with a grateful though disturbed soul he addressed to her thefollowing guarded note:--

"TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE LADY SARA ROSS. 

"An unfortunate exile, who is already overpowered by a sense of nothaving deserved the notice which Lady Sara Ross has deigned to takeof his misfortunes, was this day liberated from prison in a manner sogenerous and delicate, that he can ascribe the act to no other thanthe noble heart of her ladyship. 

"The object of this bounty, bending under a weight of obligationswhich he cannot repay, begs permission to re-enclose the bills whichLady Sara's agent transmitted to him; but as the deed which procureshis freedom cannot be recalled, with the most grateful emotions heaccepts that new instance of her ladyship's goodness. "

Thaddeus was on the point of asking one of the turnkeys to send himsome trusty person to take this letter to St. James Place, when, recollecting the impropriety of making any inmate of Newgate hismessenger to Lady Sara, he was determining to remove immediately toSt. Martin's Lane, and thence dispatch his packet to his generousfriend, when Mrs. Robson herself was announced by his turnkey, who, as customary, disappeared the moment he had let her in. She hastenedforward to him with an animated countenance, and exclaimed, before hehad time to speak, "Dear sir, I have seen a dear, sweet lady, who haspromised me not to sleep till you are out of this horrid place!"

The suspicions of the count, that his benefactress was indeed LadySara Ross, were now confirmed. Seating his warmhearted landlady inthe only chair his apartment contained, to satisfy her humility, hetook his station on the table, and then said: "The lady has alreadyfulfilled her engagement. I am free, and I only wait for a hackney-coach--which I shall send for immediately--to take me back to yourkind home. "

At this assurance the delighted Mrs. Robson, crying and laughing byturns, did not cease her ejaculations of joy until the turnkey, whomhe had recalled to give the order for the coach, returned to say thatit was in readiness. 

He took up his late prisoner's small portmanteau, with the drawing-materials, &c. , which had been brought to him during hisincarceration; and Thaddeus, with a feeling as if a band of iron hadbeen taken from his soul, passed through the door of his cell; andwhen he reached the greater portal of Newgate, where the coach stood, he gave the turnkey a liberal _douceur_, and handing Mrs. Robsoninto the vehicle, stepped in after her, full of thankfulness toHeaven for again being permitted to taste the wholesome breeze of afree atmosphere. 

They drove quickly on, and from the fullness of his thoughts, littlepassed between the count and his happy companion till they alightedat her door and he had re-entered his humble apartment. But so trueis it that advantages are only appreciated by comparison, when helooked around, he considered it a palace of luxury, compared to thestifling dungeon he had left. "Ah!" cried Mrs. Robson, pointing to achair, "there is the seat in which that dear lady sat--sweetcreature! I If I had known I durst believe all she promised, I wouldhave fallen on my knees and kissed her feet for bringing back yourdear self!"

"I thank you, my revered friend!" replied Thaddeus, with a gratefulsmile and a tear at so ardent a demonstration of her maternalaffection. "But where is little Nanny, that I may shake hands withher?" It being yet early in the evening, he was also anxious, beforethe probable retiring time of Lady Sara into her dressing-room toprepare for dinner should elapse, to dispatch his letter to her; andhe inquired of his still rejoicing landlady "whether she could findhim a safe porter to take a small packet of importance to St. James'sPlace, and wait for an answer?"

The good woman instantly replied that "Mrs. Watts, her neighbor, hada nephew at present lodging with her, a steady man, recently made oneof the grooms in the King's Mews, and as this was the customary hourof his return from the stables, she was sure he would be glad to dothe service. " While the count was sealing his letter, Mrs Robson hadexecuted her commission, and reentered with young Watts. Herespectfully received his instructions from Thaddeus, and withdrew toperform the duty. 

Nanny had also appeared, and welcomed her grandmother's belovedlodger with all those artless and animated expressions of joy whichare inseparable from a good and unsophisticated heart. 

The distance between the royal precincts of St. James's and theunostentatious environs of St. Martin's church being very short, inless than half an hour the count's messenger returned with thewished-for reply. It was with pain that he opened it, for he saw, bythe state of the paper, that it had been blotted with tears. Hehurriedly took out the re-enclosed bills, with a flushed cheek, andread as follows:--

"I cannot be mistaken in recognizing the proud and high-mindedConstantine in the lines I hold in my hand. Could anything haveimparted to me more comfort than your generous belief that there isindeed some virtue left in my wretched and repentant heart, it wouldhave arisen from the consciousness of having been the happy personwho succored you in your distress. But no: that enjoyment was beyondmy deserving. The bliss of being the lightener of your sorrows wasreserved by Heaven for a less criminal creature. I did not even knowthat you were in prison. Since our dreadful parting, I have neverdared to inquire after you; and much as it might console me to serveone so truly valued, I will not insult your nice honor by offeringany further instance of my friendship than what will evince my soul'sgratitude to your prayers and my acquiescence with the commands ofduty. 

"My husband is here, without perceiving the ravages which misery andremorse have made in my unhappy heart. Time, perhaps, may render meless unworthy of his tenderness; at present, I detest myself. 

"I return the bills; you may safely use them, for they never weremine. 

"S. R. "

The noble heart of Thaddeus bled over every line of this letter. Hesaw that it bore the stamp of truth which did not leave him a momentin doubt that he owed his release to some other hand. Whilst hefolded it up, his grateful suspicions next lighted on Lady Tinemouth. He had received one short letter from her since her departure, mentioning Sophia's stay in town to meet Mr. Montresor, and MissBeaufort's detention there, on account of Miss Dorothy's accident, and closing with the intelligence of her own arrival at the Wolds. Hewas struck with the idea that, as he had delayed answering thisletter in consequence of his late embarrassment, she must have madeinquiries after him; that probably Miss Egerton was the lady who hadvisited Mrs. Robson, and finding the information true had executedthe countess's commission to obtain his release. 

According to these suppositions, he questioned his landlady about theappearance of the lady who had called. Mrs. Rob-son replied, "She wasof an elegant height, but so wrapped up I could neither see her facenor her figure, though I am certain from the softness of her voice, she must be both young and handsome. Sweet creature! I am sure shewept two or three times. Besides, she is the most charitable soulalive, next to you, sir; for she gave me a purse with twenty guineas, and she told me she knew your honor's English friends. "

This narration substantiating his hope of Lady Tinemouth's being hisbenefactress, that the kind Sophia was her agent, and the gentlemanwho defrayed the debt Mr. Montresor, he felt easier under anobligation which a mysterious liberation would have doubled. He knewthe countess's maternal love for him. To reject her presentbenefaction, in any part, would be to sacrifice gratitude to anexcessive and haughty delicacy. Convinced that nothing can be greatthat it is great to despise, he no longer hesitated to accept LadyTinemouth's bounty, but smothered in his breast the embers of a proudand repulsive fire, which, having burst forth in the first hour ofhis misfortunes, was ever ready to consume any attempt that mightoppress him with the weight of obligation. 

Being exhausted by the events of the day, he retired at an early hourto his grateful devotions and to his pillow, where he found thatrepose which he had sought in vain within the gloomy and (hesupposed) ever-sealed walls of his prison. 

In the morning he was awakened by the light footsteps of his prettywaiting-maid entering the front room. His chamber-door being open, heasked her what the hour was? She replied nine o'clock; adding thatshe had brought a letter, which one of the waiters from Slaughter'sCoffee-house had just left, with information that he did so by theorders of a footman in a rich livery. 

Thaddeus desired that it might be given to him. The child obeyed, andquitted the room. He saw that the superscription was in Miss Dundas'shand; and opening it with pleasure, --because everything interestedhim which came from the house which contained Mary Beaufort, --to hisamazement and consternation he read the following accusations:--

"To MR. CONSTANTINE. 

"Sir, "By a miraculous circumstance yesterday morning, your deep and daringplan of villany has been discovered to Lady D---and myself. Thedeluded victim, whom your arts and falsehoods would have seduced todishonor her family by connecting herself with a vagabond, has atlength seen through her error, and now detests you as much as everyour insufferable presumption could have hoped she would distinguishyou with her regard. Thanks be to Heaven! you are completely exposed. This young woman of fashion (whose name I will not trust in the samepage with yours) has made a full confession of your vile seductions, of her own reprehensible weakness, in ever having deigned to listento so low a creature. She desires me to assure you that she hatesyou, and commands you never again to attempt the insolence ofappearing in her sight. Indeed this is the language of every soul inthis house, Lady D----, Miss D----, S----, Miss B---, besides that of

"D----D----. 

"HARLEY STREET. "

Thaddeus read this ridiculous letter twice before he could perfectlycomprehend its meaning. In a paroxysm of indignation at the basesubterfuge under which he did not doubt Euphemia had screened someaccidental discovery of her absurd passion, he hastily threw on hisclothes, and determined, though in defiance of Miss Dundas'smandates, to fly to Harley Street, and clear himself in the eyes ofMiss Beaufort and her venerable aunt. 

Having flown rather than walked, he arrived in sight of Lady Dundas'shouse just as a coachful of her ladyship's maids and packages drovefrom the door. Hurrying up the step, he asked the porter if MissDorothy Somerset were at home. 

"No, " replied the man; "she and Miss Beaufort, with Miss Dundas andMr. Somerset, went out of town this morning by eight o'clock; and mylady and Miss Euphemia, about an hour ago, set off for Scotland, where they mean to stay all the summer. "

At this information, which seemed to be the sealing of hiscondemnation with Mary, the heart of Thaddeus was pierced to thecore. Unacquainted until this moment with the torments attending theknowledge of being calumniated, he could scarcely subdue the tempestin his breast, when forced to receive the conviction that the womanhe loved above all the world now regarded him as not merely avillain, but the meanest of villains. 

He returned home indignant and agitated. The probability thatPembroke Somerset had listened to the falsehood of Euphemia, withoutsuggesting one word in defence of him who once was his friend, inflicted a pang more deadly than the rest. Shutting himself withinhis apartment, tossed and tortured in soul, he traversed the room. First one idea occurred and then another, until he resolved to seekredress from the advice of Lady Tinemouth. With this determination hedescended the stairs, and telling Mrs. Robson he should leave Londonthe ensuing day for Lincolnshire, begged her not to be uneasy on hisaccount, as he went on business, and would return in a few days. Thegood woman almost wept at this intelligence, and prayed Heaven toguard him wherever he went. 

Next morning, having risen at an early hour, he was collecting hisfew articles of wardrobe to put into his cloak-bag for his meditatedshort visit, when going to open one of the top drawers in hischamber, he found it sealed, and observed on the black wax theimpress of an eagle. It was a large seal. Hardly crediting his eyes, it appeared to be the armorial eagle of Poland, surmounted by itsregal crown. Nay, it seemed an impression of the very seal which hadbelonged to his royal ancestor, John Sobieski, and which was appendedto the watch of his grandfather when he was robbed of it on his firstarrival in England. 

Thaddeus, in a wondering surprise, immediately rang the bell, andMrs. Robson herself came up stairs. He hurriedly but gently inquired"how the drawer became not only locked as he had left it, butfastened with such a seal?"

Mrs. Robson did not perceive his agitation, and simply replied, "While his honor was in that horrid place, and after the attempt ofMr. Jackson to get possession of his property, she had considered itright to so secure the drawer, which she believed contained his mostvaluable pictures, and the like. So, having no impression of her ownbig enough, she went and bought a bunch of tarnished copper-seals shehad seen hanging in the window of a huckster's shop at the corner ofan ally hard by, one of them appearing about the size she wanted. Thewoman of the shop told her she had found them at the bottom of a tubof old iron, sold to her a while ago by a dustman; and as, to besure, they were damaged and very dirty, she would not ask more than acouple of shillings for the lot, and would be glad to get rid ofthem!"

"So, sir, " continued Mrs. Robson, with a pleased look, "I gave themoney, and hastened home as fast as I could, and with Mrs. Watts bymy side to witness it, you see I made all safe which I thought youmost cared for. "

"You are very thoughtful for me, kindest of women!" returnedThaddeus, with grateful energy; "but let me see the seals--for it ispossible I may recognize in the one of this impression, indeed, arelic precious to my memory!"

Mrs. Robson put her hand into her pocket, and instantly gave them tohim. There were three, one large, two small, and strung together by aleather thong. The former massive gold chain was no longer theirlink, and the rust from the iron had clouded the setting; but aglance told Sobieski they were his! He pressed them to his heart, whilst with glistening eyes he turned away to conceal his emotion. His sensible landlady comprehended there was something more than sheknew of in the recognition (he never having told her of the loss ofhis watch, when he had saved her little grandchild from the plunginghorses in the King's Mews;) and from her native delicacy not tointrude on his feelings, she gently withdrew unobserved, and left himalone. 

About half an hour afterwards, when she saw her beloved lodger departin the stage-coach that called to take him up, her eyes followed thewheels down the lane with renewed blessings. 

His long journey passed not more in melancholy reveries against thedisappointing characters he had met in revered England than inaffectionate anticipations of the moment in which he should pour outhis gratitude to the maternal tenderness of Lady Tinemouth, and learnfrom her ingenuous lips how to efface from the minds of Miss DorothySomerset and her angel-like niece the representations, sodishonoring, torturing, and false, which had been heaped upon him bythe calumnies of the family in Harley Street. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

ZEAL IS POWER. 

The porter at Lady Dundas's had been strictly correct in his accountrespecting the destination of the dispersed members of her ladyship'shousehold. 

Whilst Pembroke Somerset was sullenly executing his forced act ofbenevolence at Newgate, Miss Dundas suddenly took into her scheminghead to compare the merits of Somerset's rich expectancy with thepenniless certainty of Lascelles. She considered the substantialadvantages which the wife of a wealthy baronet would hold over thethriftless _cara sposa_ of a man owning no other estate than areflected lustre from the coronet of an elder brother. Besides, Pembroke was very handsome--Lascelles only tolerably so; indeed, somewomen had presumed to call him "very plain. " But they were "stupidpersons, " who, not believing the _metempsychosis_ doctrine ofthe tailor and his decorating adjuncts, could not comprehend thatalthough a mere human creature can have no such property, a man offashion may possess an _elixir vitae_ which makes age youth, deformity beauty, and even transforms vice into virtue. 

In spite of recollection, which reminded Diana how often she hadcontended that all Mr. Lascelles' teeth were his own; that his nosewas not a bit too long, being a facsimile of the feature which rearedits sublime curve over the capricious mouth of his noble brother, theEarl of Castle Conway--notwithstanding all this, the Pythagoreanpretensions of fashion began to lose their ascendency; and in therecesses of her mind, when Miss Dundas compared the light elegance ofPembroke's figure with the heavy limbs of her present lover, Pembroke's dark and ever-animated eyes with the gooseberry orbs ofLascelles, she dropped the parallel, and resolving to captivate theheir of Somerset Castle, admitted no remorse at jilting the brotherof Castle Conway. 

To this end, before Pembroke's return from Newgate, Diana had toldher mother of her intention to accompany Miss Dorothy to thebaronet's, where she would remain until her ladyship should thinkEuphemia might be trusted to rejoin her in town. Neither Miss Dorothynor Miss Beaufort liked this arrangement; and next morning, with anaching heart, the latter prepared to take her seat in the travellingequipage which was to convey them all into Leicestershire. 

After supper, Pembroke coldly informed his cousin of the success ofher commands--that Mr. Constantine was at liberty. This assurance, though imparted with so ungracious an air, laid her head with lessdistraction on her pillow, and as she stepped into Sir Robert'scarriage next day, enabled her with more ease to deck her lips withsmiles. She felt that the penetrating eyes of Mr. Somerset were neverwithdrawn from her face. Offended with his perverseness, and theirscrutiny, she tried to baffle their inspection. She attempted gayety, when she gladly would have wept. But when the coach mounted the topof Highgate Hill, and she had a last view of that city whichcontained the being whose happiness was the sole object of herthoughts and prayers, she leaned out of the window to hide a tear shecould not repress; feeling that another and another would start, shecomplained of the dust, and pulling her veil over her eyes, drew backinto the corner of the carriage. The trembling of her voice and handsduring the performance of this little artifice too well explained toPembroke what was passing in her mind. At once dispelling the gloomwhich shrouded his own countenance, he turned towards her withcompassionate tenderness in his words and looks; he called herattention by degrees to the happy domestic scene she was to meet atthe Castle; and thus gradually softening her displeasure into theeasy conversation of reciprocal affection, he rendered the remainderof their long journey less irksome. 

When, at the end of the second day, Miss Beaufort found herself inthe old avenue leading to the base of the hill which sustains therevered walls of Somerset's castellated towers, a mingled emotiontook possession of her breast; and when the carriage arrived at thefoot of the highest terrace, she sprang impatiently out of it, andhastening up the stone stairs into the front hall, met her uncle atthe door of the breakfast-parlor, where he held out his arms toreceive her. 

"My Mary! My darling!" cried he, embracing her now wet cheek, andstraining her throbbing bosom to his own, "Why, my dear love, " addedhe, almost carrying her into the room, "I am afraid this visit totown has injured your nerves! Whence arises this agitation?"

She knew it had injured her peace; and now that the floodgates of herlong-repelled tears were opened, it was beyond her power, or thesoothings of her affectionate uncle, to stay them. A momentafterwards her cousin entered the room, followed by Miss Dorothy andMiss Dundas. Miss Beaufort hastily rose, to conceal what she couldnot check. Kissing Sir Robert's hand, she asked permission to retire, under the pretence of regaining those spirits which had beendissipated by the fatigues of her journey. 

In her own chamber she did indeed struggle to recover herself. Sheshuddered at the impetuosity of her emotions when once abandoned oftheir reins, and resolved from this hour to hold a stricter controlover such betrayals of her ill-fated, devoted heart. 

She sat in the window of her apartment, and looking down theextensive vale of Somerset, watched the romantic meanderings of itsshadowed river, winding its course through the domains of the castle, and nourishing the roots of those immense oaks which for many acentury had waved their branches over its stream. She reflected onthe revolution which had take place in herself since she walked onits banks the evening that preceded her visit to London. Then she wasfree as the air, gay as the lark; each object was bright and lovelyin her eyes hope seemed to woo her from every green slope, everyremote dingle. All nature breathed of joy, because her own breast wasthe abode of gladness. Now, all continued the same, but she waschanged. Surrounded by beauty, she acknowledged its presence; thesweetness of the flowers bathed her senses in fragrance; the settingsun, gilding the height, shed a yellow glory over the distant hills;the birds were hailing the falling dew which spangled every leaf. Shegazed around, and sighed heavily, when she said to herself, "Even inthis paradise I shall be wretched. Alas! my heart is far away! Mysoul lingers about one I may never more behold!--about one who maysoon cease to remember that such a being as Mary Beaufort is inexistence. He will leave England!" cried she, raising her hands andeyes to the glowing heavens. "He will live, he will die, far, farfrom me! In a distant land he will wed another, whilst I shall knowno wish that strays from him. "

Whilst she indulged in these soliloquies, she forgot both Sir Robertand her resolution, until he sent her maid to beg, if she werebetter, that she would come down and make tea for him. At thissummons she dried her eyes, and with assumed serenity descended tothe saloon, where the family were assembled. The baronet havinggreeted Miss Dundas with an hospitable welcome, seated himselfbetween his sister and his son; and whilst he received his favoritebeverage from the hands of his beloved niece, he found that comfortonce more re-entered his bosom. 

Sir Robert Somerset was a man whose appearance alone attractedrespect. His person bore the stamp of dignity, and his manners, whichpossessed the exquisite polish of travel, and of society in its mostrefined courts, secured him universal esteem. Though little beyondfifty, various perplexing situations having distressed his youth, hadnot only rendered his hair prematurely gray, but by clouding his oncebrilliant eyes with thoughtfulness, marked his aspect with prematureold age and melancholy. The baronet's entrance into town life hadbeen celebrated for his graceful vivacity; he was the animatingspirit of every party, till an inexplicable metamorphosis suddenlytook place. Soon after his return from abroad, he had married MissBeaufort (a woman whom he loved to adoration), When, strange to say, excess of happiness seemed to change his nature and give hischaracter a deep tinge of sadness. After his wife's death, thealteration in his mind produced still more extraordinary effects, andshowed itself more than once in all the terrors of threatened mentalderangement. 

His latest attack of the kind assailed him during the last winter, under the appearance of a swoon, while he sat at breakfast readingthe newspaper. He was carried to bed, and awoke in a delirium whichmenaced either immediate death or the total extinction of hisintellects. However, neither of these dreads being confirmed, in thecourse of several weeks, to the wonder of everybody, he recoveredmuch of his health and his sound mind. Notwithstanding this happyevent, the circumstances of his danger so deeply affected his family, that he ceased not to be an object of the most anxious attention. Indeed, solicitude did not terminate with them: the munificence ofhis disposition having spread itself through every county in which heowned a rood of land, as many prayers ascended for the repose of hisspirit as ever petitioned Heaven from the mouths of "monkishbeadsmen" in favor of power and virtue. 

Since the demise of Lady Somerset, this still-admired man drew allhis earthly comfort from the amiable qualities of his son Pembroke. Sometimes in his livelier hours, which came "like angel visits, fewand far between, " he amused himself with the playfulness of thelittle Earl of Avon, the pompous erudition of Mr. Loftus, (who wasbecome his young ward's tutor), and with giving occasionalentertainments to the gentry in his neighborhood. 

Of all the personages contained within this circle (which thehospitality of Sir Robert extended to a circumference of fiftymiles, ) the noble family of Castle Granby, brave, patriotic, andaccomplished, with female beauty at its head, "Fitted to move in courts or walk the shade, With innocence and contemplation joined, "

were held in the highest and most intimate appreciation; while manyof the numerous titled visitants who attended the celebrated andmagnificent Granby hunt were of too convivial notoriety to be oftenadmitted within the social home-society of either Castle Granby orSomerset Castle, the two cynosure mansions which, now palace-like, crest with their peaceful groves the summits of those two promontoryheights whereon in former times they stood in fortress strength, theguardians of each opening pass into that spacious and once importantbelligerent vale!

Amongst the less-esteemed frequenters of the chase was devotedNimrod, Sir Richard Shafto, who every season fixed himself and familyat a convenient hunting-lodge near the little town of Grantham, withhis right worthy son and heir who by calling at Somerset Castle soonafter the arrival of his guests, caused a trifling change in itsarrangements. When Dick Shafto (as all the grooms in the stablesfamiliarly designated him) was ushered into the room, he nodded toSir Robert, and, turning his back on the ladies, told Pembroke he hadridden to Somerset "on purpose to _bag_ him for Woodhill Lodge. "

"Upon my life, " cried he, "if you don't come, I will cut and run. There is not a creature but yourself within twenty miles to whom Ican speak--not a man worth a sixpence. I wish my father had brokenhis neck before he accepted that confounded embassy, which encumbersme with the charge of my old mother!"

After this dutiful wish, which brought down a weighty admonition fromMiss Dorothy, the young gentleman promised to behave better, providedshe would persuade Pembroke to accompany him to the Lodge. Mr. Somerset did not show much alacrity in his consent; but to rid hisfamily of so noisy a guest, he rose from his chair, and acquiescingin the sacrifice of a few clays to good nature, bade his fatherfarewell, and gave orders for a ride to Grantham. 

As soon as the gentlemen left the saloon, Miss Dundas ran up stairs, and from her dressing-room window in the west tower pursued the stepsof their horses as they cantered down the winding steep into the highroad. An abrupt angle of the hill hiding them from her view, sheturned round with a toss of the head, and flinging herself into achair, exclaimed, "Now I shall be bored to death by this prosingfamily! I wish his boasted hunter had run away with Shafto before hethought of coming here!"

In consequence of the temper which engendered the above no veryflattering compliment to the society at the Castle, Miss Dundasdescended to the dining-room with sulky looks and a chilling air. Sheate what the baronet laid on her plate with an indolent appetite, cuther meat carelessly, and dragged the vegetables over the table-cloth. Miss Dorothy colored at this indifference to the usual neatness ofher damask covers; but Miss Dundas was so completely in the sullens, that, heedless of any other feelings than her own, she continued topull and knock about the things just as her ill-humor dictated. 

The petulance of this lady's behavior did not in the least assimilatewith the customary decorum of Sir Robert's table; and when the clothwas drawn, he could not refrain from expressing his concern thatSomerset Castle appeared so little calculated to afford satisfactionto a daughter of Lady Dundas. Miss Dundas attempted some awkwarddeclaration that she never was more amused--never happier. 

But the small credit Sir Robert gave to her assertion was fullywarranted the next morning by the ready manner in which she acceptinga casual invitation to spend the ensuing day and night at LadyShafto's. Her ladyship called on Miss Dorothy, and intended to have aparty in the evening, invited the two young ladies to return with herto Woodhill Lodge, and be her guests for a week. Miss Beaufort, whosespirits were far from tranquillized, declined her civility; but witha gleam of pleasure she heard it accepted by Miss Dundas, whodeparted with her ladyship for the Lodge. 

Whilst the enraptured Diana, all life and glee, bowled along withLady Shafto, anticipating the delight of once more seating herself atthe elbow of Pembroke Somerset, Mary Beaufort, relieved from a loadof ill-requited attentions, walked out into the park, to enjoy insolitude the "sweet sorrow" of thinking on the unhappy and far-distant Constantine. Regardless of the way, her footsteps, thoughrobbed of elasticity by nightly watching and daily regret, led herbeyond the park, to the ruined church of Woolthorpe, its southernboundary. Her eyes were fixed on the opposite horizon. It was theextremity of Leicestershire; and far, far behind those hills was thatLondon which contained the object dearest to her soul. The windseemed scarcely to breathe as it floated towards her; but it camefrom that quarter, and believing it laden with every sweet which lovecan fancy, she threw back her veil to inhale its balm, then, blamingherself for such weakness, she turned, blushing, homewards and weptat what she thought her unreasonably tenacious passion. 

The arrival of Miss Dundas at the Lodge was communicated to the twoyoung men on their return from traversing half the country in questof game. The news drew an oath from Shafto, but rather pleasedSomerset, who augured some amusement from her attempts at wit andjudgment. Tired to death, and dinner being over when they entered, with ravenous appetites they devoured their uncomfortable meal in aremote room; then throwing themselves along the sofas, yawned andslept for nearly two hours. 

Pembroke waking first, suddenly jumped on the floor, and shaking hisdisordered clothes, exclaimed, "Shafto! get up This is abominable! Icannot help thinking that if we spend one half of our days inpleasure and the other in lolling off its fatigues, we shall havepassed through life more to our shame than our profit!"

"Then you take the shame and leave me the profit, " cried hiscompanion, turning himself round: "so good-night to you!"

Pembroke rang the bell. A servant entered. 

"What o'clock is it?"

"Nine, sir. "

"Who are above?"

"My lady, sir, and a large party of ladies. "

"There, now!" cried Shafto, yawning and kicking out his legs. "Yousurely won't go to be bored with such maudlin company?"

"I choose to join your mother, " replied Pembroke. "Are there anygentlemen, Stephen?"

"One sir: Doctor Denton. "

"Off with you!" roared Shafto; "what do you stand jabbering therefor? You won't let me sleep. Can't you send away the fellow, and golook yourself?"

"I will, if you can persuade yourself to rise off that sofa and comewith me. "

"May Lady Hecate catch me if I do! Get about your business, and leaveme to mine. "

"You are incorrigible, Shafto, " returned Pembroke, as he closed thedoor. 

He went up stairs to change his dress, and before he gained thesecond flight, he resolved not to spend another whole day in thecompany of such an ignorant, unmannerly cub. 

On Mr. Somerset's entrance into Lady Shafto's drawing-room, he sawmany ladies, but only one gentleman, who was, the before-mentionedDr. Denton--a poor, shallow-headed, parasitical animal. Pembrokehaving seen enough of him to despise his pretensions both to scienceand sincerity, returned his wide smirk and eager inquiries with aceremonious bow, and took his seat by the side of the now delightedMiss Dundas. The vivid spirits of Diana, which she now strove torender peculiarly sparkling, entertained him. When compared with theinsipid sameness of her ladyship, or the coarse ribaldry of her son, the mirth of Miss Dundas was wit and her remarks wisdom. 

"Dear Mr. Somerset!" cried she, "how good you are to break this sadsolemnity. I vow, until you showed your face, I thought the days ofpaganism were revived, and that lacking men, we were assembled hereto celebrate the mysteries of the _Bona Dea_. "

"Lacking men!" replied he, smiling; "you have over-looked theassiduous Doctor Denton?"

"O, no; that is a chameleon in man's clothing. He breathes air, heeats air, he speaks air; and a most pestilential breath it is. Onlyobserve how he is pouring its fumes into the ear of yonder sablestatue. "

Pembroke directed his eyes as Miss Dundas desired him, and saw Dr. Denton whispering and bowing before a lady in black. The lady put upher lip: the doctor proceeded; she frowned: he would not be daunted;the lady rose from her seat, and slightly bending her head, crossedthe room. Whilst Mr. Somerset was contemplating her graceful figure, and fine though pale features, Miss Dundas touched his arm, andsmiling satirically, repeated in an affected voice--

 "Hail, pensive nun! devout and holy! Hail, divinest Melancholy!"

"If she be Melancholy, " returned Pembroke, "I would forever say

 "Hence, unholy Mirth, of Folly born!"

Miss Dundas reddened. She never liked this interesting woman, who wasnot only too handsome for competition, but possessed an understandingthat would not tolerate ignorance or presumption. Diana's ill-naturedimpertinence having several times received deserved chastisement fromthat quarter, she was vexed to the soul when Pembroke closed hisanimated response with the question, "Who is she?"

Rather too bitterly for the design on his heart, Miss Dundas iteratedhis words, and then answered, "Why, she is crazed. She lives in aplace called Harrowby Abbey, at the top of that hill, " continued she, pointing through the opposite window to a distant rising ground, onwhich the moon was shining brightly; "and I am told she frightens thecottagers out of their wits by her midnight strolls. "

Hardly knowing how to credit this wild account, Pembroke asked hisinformer if she were serious. 

"Never more so. Her eyes are uncommonly wild. "

"You must be jesting, " returned he; "they seem perfectly reasonable. "

Miss Dundas laughed, "like Hamlet's, they 'know not seems, but havethat within which passeth show!' Believe me, she is mad enough forBedlam; and of that I could soon convince you. I wonder how LadyShafto thought of inviting her, she quite stupefied our dinner. "

"Well, " cried Pembroke, "if those features announce madness, I shallnever admire a look of sense again. "

"Bless us, " exclaimed Miss Dundas, "you are wonderfully struck! Don'tyou see she is old enough to be your mother?"

"That maybe, " answered he, smiling; "nevertheless she is one of themost lovely women I ever beheld. " Come, tell me her name. "

"I will satisfy you in a moment, " rejoined Diana; "and then away withyour rhapsodies! She is the very Countess of Tinemouth, who broughtthat vagabond foreigner to our house who would have run off withPhemy!"

"Lady Tinemouth!" exclaimed Pembroke; "I never saw her before. Myever-lamented mother knew her whilst I was abroad, and she esteemedher highly. Pray introduce me to her!"

"Impossible, " replied Diana, vexed at the turn his curiosity hadtaken; "I wrote to her about the insidious wretch, and now we don'tspeak. "

"Then I will introduce myself, " answered he. He was moving away, whenMiss Dundas caught his arm, and by various attempts at badinage andraillery, held him in his place until the countess had made herfarewell curtsey to Lady Shafto, and the door was closed. 

Disappointed by this manoeuvre, Pembroke re-seated himself; andwondering why his aunt and cousin had not heard of Lady Tinemouth'sarrival at Harrowby, he determined to wait on her next day. Regardless of every word which the provoked Diana addressed to him, he remained silent and meditating, until the loud voice of Shafto, bellowing in his ear, made him turn suddenly round. Miss Dundas triedto laugh at his reverie, though she knew that such a flagrantinstance of inattention was death to her hopes; but Pembroke, notinclined to partake in the jest, coolly asked his bearish companionwhat he wanted?

"Nothing, " cried he, "but to hear you speak! Miss Dundas tells me youhave lost your heart to yonder grim countess? My mother wanted me togallant her up the hill; but I would see her in the river first!"

"Shafto!" answered Pembroke, rising from his chair, "you cannot bespeaking of Lady Tinemouth?"

"Efaith I am, " roared he; "and if she be such a scamp as to livewithout a carriage, I won't be her lackey for nothing. The matter ofa mile is not to be tramped over by me with no pleasanter companionthan an old painted woman of quality. "

"Surely you cannot mean, " returned Pembroke, "that her ladyship wasto walk from this place?"

"Without a doubt, " cried Shafto, bursting into a hoarse laugh; "youwould be clever to see my Lady Stingy in any other carriage than herclogs. "

Irritated at the malice of Miss Dundas, and despising the vulgarilliberality of Shafto, without deigning a reply, Pembroke abruptlyleft the room, and hastening out of the house, ran, rather thanwalked, in hopes of overtaking the countess before she reachedHarrowby. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE VALE OF GRANTHAM. --BELVOIR. 

Pembroke crossed the little wooden bridge which lies over the Witham;he scoured the field; he leaped every stile and gate in his way, andat last gained the enclosure that leads to the top of the hill, wherehe descried a light moving, and very rightly conjectured it must bethe lantern carried by the countess's attendant. Another spring overthe shattered fence cleared all obstacles, and he found himself closeto Lady Tinemouth, who was leaning on the arm of a gentleman. Pembroke stopped at this sight. Supposing she had been met by someperson belonging to the neighborhood, whose readier gallantry nowoccupied the place which Miss Dundas had prevented him from filling, he was preparing to retreat, when Lady Tinemouth happening to turnher head, imagined, from the hesitating embarrassment of his manner, that he was a stranger, who had lost his way, and accosted him withthat inquiry. 

Pembroke bowed in some confusion, and related the simple fact of hishaving heard that she had quitted Lady Shafto's house without anyguard but the servant, and that the moment he learned thecircumstance he had hurried out to proffer his services. The countessnot only thanked him for such attention, but, constrained by acivility which at that instant she could have wished not to have beennecessary, asked him to walk forward with her to the abbey, andpartake of some refreshment. 

"But, " added she, "though I perfectly recollect having seen anothergentleman in Lady Shafto's room besides Doctor Denton, I have not thehonor of knowing your name. "

"It is Somerset, " returned Pembroke; "I am the son of that LadySomerset, who, during the last year of her life, had the happiness ofbeing intimate with your ladyship. "

Lady Tinemouth expressed her pleasure at this meeting; and turning tothe gentleman who was walking in silence by her side, said, "Mr. Constantine, allow me to introduce to you the cousin of the amiableMiss Beaufort. "

Thaddeus, who had too well recognized the voice of his false friendin the first accents he addressed to the countess, with a swellingheart bent his head to the cold salutation of Somerset. Hearing thather ladyship's companion was the same Constantine whom he hadliberated from prison, Pembroke was stimulated with a desire to takethe perhaps favorable occasion to unmask his double villany to LadyTinemouth; and conceiving a curiosity to see the man whose person andmeretricious qualities had blinded the judgment of his aunt andcousin, he readily obeyed the second invitation of the countess, andconsented to go home and sup with her. 

Meanwhile, Thaddeus was agitated with a variety of emotions. Everytone of Pembroke's voice, reminding him of happier days, pierced hisheart, whilst a sense of his ingratitude awakened all the pride andindignation of his soul. Full of resentment, he determined that, whatever might be the result, he would not shrink from an interview, the anticipation of which Pembroke (who had received from himself anintimation of the name he had assumed) seemed to regard with so muchcontemptuous indifference. 

Not imagining that Somerset and the count had any personal knowledgeof each other, Lady Tinemouth begged the gentlemen to accompany herinto the supper-parlor, Pembroke, with inconsiderate, realindifference, passed by Thaddeus to give his hand to the countess. Thaddeus was so shocked at this instance of something very like apersonal affront, that, insulted in every nerve, he was obliged topause a moment in the hall, to summon coolness to follow him with acomposed step and dispassionate countenance. He accomplished thisconquest over himself, and taking off his hat, entered the room. LadyTinemouth began to congratulate herself with many kind expressions onhis arrival. The eyes of Pembroke fixed themselves on the calm butsevere aspect of the man before him; he stood by the table with suchan air of noble greatness, that the candid heart of Pembroke Somersetsoon whispered to himself, "Sure nothing ill can dwell in such abreast!"

Still his eyes followed him, when he turned round, and when he benthis head to answer the countess, but in a voice so low that itescaped his ear. Pembroke was bewildered. There was something in thefeatures, in the mien of this foreigner, so like his friend Sobieski!But then Sobieski was all frankness and animation; his cheek bloomedwith the rich coloring of youth and happiness; his eyes flashedpleasure, and his lips were decked with smiles. On the contrary, theperson before him was not only considerably taller, and of more manlyproportions, but his face was pale, reserved, and haughty; besides, he did not appear even to recollect the name of Somerset; and what atonce might destroy the supposition, his own was simply Constantine. 

These reasonings having quickly passed through the mind of Pembroke, they left his heart unsatisfied. The conflict of his doubts flushedhis cheeks; his bosom beat; and keeping his searching and ardent gazeriveted on the man who was either his friend or his counterpart, onLady Tinemouth turning away to lay her cloak down, the eyes of theyoung men met. Thaddeus turned paler than before. There is anintelligence in the interchange of looks which cannot be mistaken; itis the communication of souls, and there is no deception in theirlanguage. Pembroke flew forward, and catching hold of his friend'shand, exclaimed in an impetuous voice, "Am I right? Are youSobieski?"

"I am, " returned Thaddeus, almost inarticulate with emotion, andhardly knowing what to understand by Somerset's behavior. 

"Gracious heaven!" cried he, still grasping his hand; "can you haveforgotten your friend Pembroke Somerset?"

The ingenuous heart of Thaddeus acknowledged the words and manner ofPembroke to be the language of truth. Trusting that some mistake hadinvolved his former conduct, he at once cast off suspicion, andthrowing his arms around him, strained him to his breast and burstinto tears. 

Lady Tinemouth, who during this scene stood mute with surprise, nowadvanced to the friends, who were weeping on each other's necks, andtaking a hand of each, "My dear Sobieski, " cried she, "why did youwithhold the knowledge of this friendship from me? Had you told methat you and Mr. Somerset were acquainted, this happy meeting mighthave been accomplished sooner. "

"Yes, " replied Pembroke, turning to the countess, and wiping away thetears which were trembling on his cheek; "nothing could have given mepain at this moment but the conviction that he who was the preserverof my life, and my most generous protector, should in this countryhave endured the most abject distress rather than let me know it wasin my power to be grateful. "

Thaddeus took out his handkerchief, and for a few moments concealedhis face. The countess looked on him with tenderness; and believinghe would sooner regain composure were he alone with his friend, shestole unobserved out of the room. 

Pembroke affectionately resumed: "But I hope, dear Sobieski, you willnever leave me more. I have an excellent father, who, when he is madeacquainted with my obligations to you and your noble family, willglory in loving you as a son. "

Having subdued "the woman in his heart, " Thaddeus raised his headwith an expression in his eyes far different from that which hadchilled the blood of Pembroke on their first encounter. 

"Circumstances, " said he, "dear Somerset, have made me greatly injureyou. A strange neglect on your side, since we separated at Villanow, gave the first blow to my confidence in your friendship. Though Ilost your direct address, I wrote to you often, and yet youpersevered in silence. After having witnessed the destruction of allthat was dear to me in Poland, and then of Poland itself, when I cameto England I wished to give your faithfulness another chance. Iaddressed two letters to you. I even delivered the last at your doormyself, and I saw you in the window when I sent it in. "

"By all that is sacred, " cried Pembroke, vehemently, and amazed, "Inever saw any letter from you! I wrote you many. I never heard ofthose you mention. Indeed, I should even now have been ignorant ofthe palatine's and your mother's cruel fate had it not been toocircumstantially related in the newspapers. "

"I believe you, " returned Thaddeus, drawing an agonizing sigh at thedreadful picture which the last sentence recalled. "I believe you;though at the time of which I speak, I thought otherwise, for both mylast letters were re-enclosed to me in a blank cover, directed as ifby your hand, and brought by a servant, with a message that there wasno answer. "

"Amazing!" exclaimed Somerset; "there must be some horribletreachery! Can it be that some lurking foreign spy got amongst myservants at Dantzic, and has been this traitor ever since? Oh, Thaddeus!" cried he, abruptly interrupting himself, and grasping hishand, "I would have flown to you, had it been to meet death, insteadof the greatest joy Heaven could bestow upon me. But why did you notcome in yourself? then no mistake could have happened! Oh, why didyou not come in?"

"Because I was uncertain of your sentiments. My first letter remainedunnoticed: and my heart, dear Somerset, " added he, pressing his hand, "would not stoop to solicitation. "

"Solicitation!" exclaimed Pembroke, with warmth; "you have a right todemand my life! But there is some deep villany in this affair;nothing else could have carried it through. Oh, if anybody belongingto me have dared to open these letters--Oh, Sobieski!" cried he, interrupting himself, "how you must have despised me!"

"I was afflicted, " returned Thaddeus, "that the man whom my family sowarmly loved could prove so unworthy; and afterwards, whenever I metyou in the streets, which I think was more than once or twice, Iconfess that to pass you cut me to the heart. "

"And you have met me?" exclaimed Pembroke, "and I not see you; Icannot comprehend it. "

"Yes, " answered Thaddeus; "and the first time was going into theplayhouse. I believe I called after you. "

"Is it not now ten months since?" returned Pembroke. "I remember verywell that some one called out my name in a voice that seemed known tome, while I was handing Lady Calthorpe and her sister into the porch. I looked about, but not seeing any one I knew, I thought I must havebeen mistaken. But why, dear Sobieski, why did you not follow me intothe theatre?"

Thaddeus shook his head and smiled languidly. "My poverty would notpermit, " replied he; "but I waited in the hall until everybody leftthe house, in hopes of intercepting you as you passed again. "

Pembroke sprung from his chair at these words, and with vehemenceexclaimed, "I see it! That hypocrite Loftus is at the bottom of it!He followed me into the theatre; he must have seen you, and hiscursed selfishness was alarmed. Yes; it is no foreign traitor! itmust be he! He would not allow me to return that way. When I said Iwould, he told me a thousand lies about the carriages coming round;and I, believing him, went out by another door. I will tax him of itto his face!"

"Who is Mr. Loftus?" inquired Thaddeus, surprised at his friend'ssuspicion; "I do not know the man. "

"What!" returned Pembroke, "don't you remember that Loftus is thename of my scoundrel tutor who persuaded me to volunteer againstPoland? To screen his baseness I have brought all this upon myself. "

"Now I recollect it, " replied Thaddeus; "but I never saw him. "

"Yet I am not less certain that I am right, " replied Somerset. "Iwill tell you my reasons. After I quitted Villanow, you may rememberI was to meet him at Dantzic. Before we left the port, he implored, almost on his knees, that in pity to his mother and sisters, whom hesaid he supported out of his salary, I would refrain from incensingmy parents against him by relating any circumstance of our visit toPoland. The man shed tears as he spoke; and, like a fool, I consentedto keep the secret till the Vicar of Somerset (a poor soul, still illof dropsy) dies, and he be in possession of the living. When welanded in England, I found the cause of my sudden recall had been theillness of my dear mother. But Heaven denied me the happiness ofbeholding her again; she had been buried two days before I reachedthe shore. " Pembroke paused a moment, and then resumed: "For near amonth after my return, I could not quit my room; on my recovery, Iwrote both to you and to the palatine. But I still locked up yournames within my heart, the old rector being yet in existence. Irepeated my letters at least every six weeks during the first year ofour separation, though you persisted in being silent. Hurt as I wasat this neglect, I believed that gratitude demanded some sacrificesfrom pride, and I continued to write even till the spring following. Meanwhile the papers of the day teemed with Sobieski's actions--Sobieski's fame; and supposing that increasing glory had blotted meout of your memory, I resolved thenceforth to regard our friendshipas a dream, and never to speak of it more. "

Confounded at this double misapprehension, Thaddeus with a glowingcountenance expressed his regret for having doubted his friend, andrepeating the assurance of having been punctual to his promise ofcorrespondence, even when he dreamed him inconstant, acknowledgedthat nothing but a premeditated scheme could have effected so manydisappointments. 

"Ay, " returned Pembroke, reddening with awakened anger; "I couldswear that Mr. Loftus has all my letters in his bureau at thismoment! No house ever gave a man a better opportunity to play therogue in than ours. It is a custom with us to lay our letters everymorning on the hall-table, whence they are sent to the office; andwhen the post arrives they are spread out in the same way, that theirseveral owners may take them as they pass to breakfast. From thisarrangement I cannot doubt the means by which Mr. Loftus, under thehope of separating us forever, has intercepted every letter to youand every letter from you. I suppose the wretch feared I might becomeimpatient, and break my engagement if our correspondence wereallowed. He trembled lest the business should be blown before therector died, and he, in consequence, lose both the expected livingand his present situation about Lord Avon. A villain! for once he hasjudged rightly. I will unmask him to my father, and show him what itis to purchase advancement at the expense of honor and justice. "

Thaddeus, who could not withhold immediate credit to these evidencesof chicanery, tried to calm the violence of his friend, who onlyanswered by insisting on having his company back with him to SomersetCastle. 

"I long to present you to my father, " cried he. "When I tell him whoyou are, of your kindness to me, how rejoiced will he be! How happy, how proud to have you his guest; to show the grandson of the Palatineof Masovia the warm gratitude of a Briton's heart! Indeed, Sobieski, you will love him, for he is generous and noble, like yourinestimable grandfather. Besides, " added he, smiling with a suddenrecollection, "there is my lovely cousin, Mary Beaufort, who I verilybelieve will fly into your arms!"

The blood rushed over the cheeks of Thaddeus at this speech of hisfriend, and suppressing a bitter sigh, he shook his head. 

"Don't look so like an infidel, " resumed Somerset. "If you have anydoubts of possessing her most precious feelings, I can put you out ofyour suspense by a single sentence! When Lady Dundas's household, with myself amongst them (for little did I suspect I was joining thecry against my friend), were asserting the most flagrant instances ofyour deceit to Euphemia, Mary alone withstood the tide of malice, andcompelled me to release you. "

"Gracious Providence!" cried Thaddeus, catching Pembroke's hand, andlooking eagerly and with agitation in his face "was it you who cameto my prison? Was it Miss Beaufort who visited my lodgings?"

"Indeed it was, " returned his friend, "and I blush for my self that Iquitted Newgate without an interview. Had I followed the dictates ofcommon courtesy, in the fulfilment of my commission, I should haveseen you; and then, what pain would have been spared my dear cousin!What a joyful surprise would have awaited myself!"

Thaddeus could only reply by pressing his friend's hand. His brainwhirled. He could not decide on the nature of his feelings; onemoment he would have given worlds to throw himself at Miss Beaufort'sfeet, and the next he trembled at the prospect of meeting her sosoon. 

"Dear Sobieski!" cried Pembroke, "how strangely you receive thisintelligence! Is it possible such sentiments from Mary Beaufort canbe regarded by a soul like yours with coldness?"

"O no!" cried the count, his fine face flushed with emotion. "I adoreMiss Beaufort. Her virtues possess my whole heart. But can I forgetthat I have only that heart to offer? Can I forget that I am abeggar?--that even now I exist on her bounty?" The eyes of Thaddeus, and the sudden tremor which shook his frame, finished this appeal tohis fate. 

Pembroke found it enter his soul. To hide its effect, he threwhimself on his friend's breast, and exclaimed, "Do not injure me andmy father by such thoughts. You are come, dearest Sobieski, to asecond home. Sir Robert Somerset will consider himself ennobled insupplying the place of your lamented grandfather--in endowing youlike a son! Oh, Thaddeus, you must be my cousin, dear as a brother, as well as my friend!"

Thaddeus replied with an agitated affection as true as that of thegenerous speaker. "But, " added he, "I must not allow the noble heartof my now regained Somerset to believe that I can live a dependant onany power but the Author of my being. Therefore, if Sir RobertSomerset will assist me to procure some unobtrusive way of acquiringmy own support in the simplicity I wish, I shall thank him from mysoul. In no other way my kindest friend, can I ever be brought to taxthe munificence of your father. "

Pembroke colored at this, and exclaimed, in a voice of distress anddispleasure, "Sobieski! what can you mean? Do you imagine that evermy father or myself can forget that you were little less than aprince in your own country?--that when in so high a station youtreated me like a brother; that you preserved me even when I liftedmy arm against your life. Can we be such monsters as to forget allthis, or to think that we act justly by you in permitting you tolabor for your bread? No, Thaddeus; my very soul spurns the idea. Your mother sheltered me as a son; and I insist that you allow myfather to perform the same part by you! Besides, you shall not beidle; you may have a commission in the army, and I will follow you. "

The count pressed the hand of his friend, and looking gratefully butmournfully in his face, replied, "Had I a hundred tongues, mygenerous Pembroke, I could not express my sense of your friendship;it is indeed a cordial to my heart; it imparts to me an earnest ofhappiness which I thought had fled forever. But it shall not allureme from my principles. I am resolved not to live a life of indolentuselessness; and I cannot, at this period, enter the British army. No, " added he, emotion elevating his tone and manner; "rather would Itoil for subsistence by the sweat of my brow than be subjected to thenecessity of acting in concert with those ravagers who destroyed mycountry! I cannot fight by the side of the allied powers whodismembered it! I cannot enlist under the allies! I will not be ledout to devastation! Mine was, and ever shall be, a defensive sword;and should danger threaten England, I would be as ready to withstandher enemies as I ardently, though ineffectually, opposed those ofunhappy Poland. "

Pembroke recognized the devoted soul of Thaddeus of Warsaw in thislofty burst of enthusiasm; and aware that his father's munificenceand manner of conferring it would go further towards removing thesescruples than all his own arguments, he did not attempt to combat aresolution which he knew he could not subdue, but tried to prevailwith him to become his guest until something could be arranged tosuit his wishes. 

With an unuttered emotion at the thought of meeting Miss Beaufort, Thaddeus had just consented to accompany Somerset to the Castle, after Sir Robert had been apprized of his coming, when the countess'sold and faithfully attached manservant entered, and respectfullyinformed her guests that his lady, not willing to disturb theirconversation, had retired to her room for the night, but that bedswere prepared for them in the Abbey, and she hoped to meet bothfriends at her breakfast table in the morning. The honest man thenadded, "It was now past eleven o'clock; and after their honors hadpartaken of their yet untasted refreshment, he would be ready toattend them to their chambers. "

Pembroke started up at this, and shaking his friend warm by the hand, bade him, he said, "a short farewell;" and hastening down the hill, arrived at the gate of the Wold Lodge just at the turn of midnight. 

At an early hour the next morning he gave orders to his groom, wrotea slight apology to Shafto for his abrupt departure, and, mountinghis fleet horse, galloped away full of delight towards SomersetCastle. 

CHAPTER XL. 

SOMERSET CASTLE. 

But Sobieski did not follow the attentive domestic of his maternalfriend to the prepared apartment in the Abbey. He asked to beconducted back through the night shadowed grounds to the little hotelhe had seen early in the evening on his approach to the mansion. Itstood at the entrance of the adjoining village, and under its rusticporch he had immediately entered, to engage a lodging beneath itshumble sign, "The Plough, " for the few clays of his intended visit toLady Tinemouth. A boy had been his guide, and bearer of his smalltravelling bag, from the famous old Commandery inn, the "Angel, " atGrantham, where the Wold diligence had set him down in the afternoonat the top of the market-place of that memorable town of ancientchivalry, to find his way up to the occasional rural palace cells onHarrowby Hill, of the same doughty and luxurious knights who were nowlying, individually forgotten, in their not only silent but unknowngraves, there not being a trace of them amongst the chapel ruins ofthe Abbey, nor below the hill, on the sight of the old Commanderychurch at Grantham. 

"Ah, transit mundi!" exclaimed Thaddeus to himself, with a calmedsigh, as he thought on those things, while resting under the modestlittle portal of the hotel, whose former magnificence, when a hermitcell, might still be discernible in a few remaining remnants of therich Gothic lintel yet mingling with the matted straw and theclinging ivy of the thatch. 

"What art thou, world, and thine ambitions?" again echoed in silencefrom the heart of Thaddeus. "Though yet so young, I have seen thee inall thy phases which might wean me from this earth. But there arestill some beings dear to me in the dimmed aspect, that seem to holdmy hopes to this transitory and yet too lovely world. " He was thenthinking of his restored friend Pembroke Somerset, and of her whosename had been so fondly uttered by him, as a possible bond of theirstill more intimate relationship. He tried to quell the wild hopethis recollection waked in his bosom, and hurried from the littleparlor of the inn, where Lady Tinemouth's old servant had left him, to seek repose in his humbly-prepared chamber. 

At sight of its white-robed bed and simple furniture, and instantlyconscious to the balmy effects of the sweet freshness that breathedaround him, where no perfume but that of flowers ever entered, hisagitated feelings soon became soothed into serenity, and within aquarter of an hour after he had laid his grateful head on that quietpillow, he had sunk to a sleep of gentle peace with man and Heaven. 

Next morning, when the countess met her gladly re-welcomed guest atthe breakfast-table, she expressed surprise and pleasure at the sceneof the preceding night, but intimated some mortification that he hadwithheld any part of his confidence from her. Sobieski soon obtainedher pardon, by relating the manner of his first meeting with Mr. Somerset in Poland, and the consequent events of that momentousperiod. 

Lady Tinemouth wept over the distressful fate that marked the residueof his narrative with a tenderness which yet more endeared her to hissoul. But when, in compliance with his inquiries, she informed himhow it happened that he had to seek her at Harrowby Abbey, when hesupposed her to be on the Wolds, it was his turn to pity, and toshudder at his own consanguinity with Lord Harwold. 

"Indeed, " added the countess, wishing to turn from the painfulsubject, "you must have had a most tedious journey from Harwold Parkto Harrowby, and nothing but my pleasure could exceed my astonishmentwhen I met you last night on the hill. "

Thaddeus sincerely declared that travelling a few miles further thanhe intended was no fatigue to him; yet, were it otherwise, thehappiness which he then enjoyed would have acted as a panacea forworse ills, could he have seen her looking as well as when she leftLondon. 

Lady Tinemouth smiled. "You are right, Sobieski. I am worse than whenI was in town. My solitary journey to Harwold oppressed me; and whenmy son sent me orders to leave it, because his father wanted theplace for the autumnal months, his capricious cruelty seemed toaugment the hectic of my distress. Nevertheless, I immediatelyobeyed, and in augmented disorder, arrived here last week. But howkind you were to follow me! Who informed you of the place of mydestination?--hardly any of Lady Olivia's household?"

"No, " returned Thaddeus; "I luckily had the precaution to inquire atthe inn on the Wolds where the coach stopped, what part of LordTinemouth's family were at the Park; and when I heard that the earlhimself was there, my next question was, "Where, then, was thecountess?" The landlord very civilly told me of your having engaged acarriage from his house a day or two before, to carry you to one ofhis lordship's seats within a few miles of Somerset Castle. Hence, from what I heard you say of the situation of Harrowby, I concludedit must be the Abbey, and so I sought you at a venture. "

"And I hope a happy issue, " replied she, "will arise from yourwanderings! This rencontre with so old a friend as Mr. Somerset is apleasing omen. For my part, I was ignorant of the arrival of thefamily at the Castle until yesterday morning, and then I sent off amessenger to apprize my dear Miss Beaufort of my being in herneighborhood. To my great disappointment, Lady Shafto found me outimmediately; and when, in compliance with her importunate invitation, I walked down to an early dinner with her yesterday, little did Iexpect to meet the amiable cousin of our sweet friend. So delightfulan accident has amply repaid me for the pain I endured in seeing MissDundas at the Lodge; an insolent and reproachful letter which shewrote to me concerning you has rendered her an object of myaversion. "

Thaddeus smiled and gently bent his head. "Since, my dear LadyTinemouth, her groundless malice and Miss Euphemia's folly havefailed in estranging either your confidence or the esteem of MissBeaufort from me, I pardon them both. Perhaps I ought to pity them;for is it not difficult to pass through the brilliant snares ofwealth and adulation and emerge pure as when we entered them?Unclouded fortune is, indeed, a trial of spirits; and how brightlydoes Miss Beaufort rise from the blaze! Surrounded by splendor, homage and indulgence, she is yet all nature, gentleness and virtue!"

The latter part of this burst of heart he uttered rapidly, the nervesof that heart beating full at every word. 

The countess, who wished to appear cheerful, rallied him on thewarmth of his expressions; and observing that "the day was fine, "invited him to walk out with her through the romantic, though long-neglected, domains of the Abbey. 

Meanwhile, the family at Somerset were just drawn round thebreakfast-board, when they were agreeably surprised by the suddenentrance of Pembroke. During the repast Miss Beaufort repeated thecontents of the note she had received the preceding day from LadyTinemouth, and requested that her cousin would be kind enough todrive her in his curricle that morning to Harrowby. 

"I will, with pleasure, " answered he. "I have seen her ladyship, andeven supped with her last night. "

"How came that?" asked Miss Dorothy. 

"I shall explain it to my father, whenever he will honor me with anaudience, " returned her happy nephew, addressing the baronet with allthe joy of his heart looking out at his eyes. "Will you indulge me, dear sir, by half an hour's attention?"

"Certainly, " replied Sir Robert; "at present I am going into my studyto settle my steward's books, but the moment I have finished, I willsend for you. "

Miss Dorothy walked out after her brother, to attend her aviary, andMiss Beaufort, remaining alone with her cousin, made some inquiriesabout the countess's reasons for coming to the Abbey. "I know nothingabout them, " replied he, gayly, "for she went to bed almost theinstant I entered the house. Too good to remain where her company wasnot wanted, she left me to enjoy a most delightful _tete-à-tete_with a dear friend, from whom I parted nearly four years ago. Inshort, we sat up the whole night together, talking over past scenes--and present ones too, for, I assure you, you were not forgotten. "

"I! what had I to do with it?" replied Mary, smiling. "I cannotrecollect any dear friend of yours whom you have not seen these fouryears. "

"Well, that is strange!" answered Pembroke; "he remembers youperfectly; but, true to your sex, you affirm what you please, thoughI know there is not a man in the world I prefer before him. "

Miss Beaufort shook her head, laughed, and sighed; and withdrawingher hand from his, threatened to leave him if he would not beserious. 

"I am serious, " cried he. "Would you have me _swear_ that I haveseen him whom you most wish to see?"

She regarded the expression of his countenance with a momentaryemotion; taking her seat again, she said, "You can have seen no onethat is of consequence to me; whoever your friend may be, I have onlyto congratulate you on a meeting which affords you so much delight. "

Pembroke burst into a joyous laugh at her composure. 

"So cold!" cried he--"so cautious! Yet I verily believe you wouldparticipate in my delights were I to tell you who he is. However, youare such a skeptic, that I wont hint even one of the many fine thingshe said of you. "

She smiled incredulously. 

"I could beat you, Mary, " exclaimed he, "for this oblique way ofsaying I am telling lies! But I will have my revenge on yourcuriosity; for on my honor I declare, " added he, emphatically, "thatlast night I met with a friend at Lady Tinemouth's who four years agosaved my life, who entertained me several weeks in his house, and whohas seen and adores you! Tis true; true, on my existence! And what ismore, I have promised that you will repay these weighty obligationsby the free gift of this dear hand. What do you say to this, my sweetMary?"

Miss Beaufort looked anxious at the serious and energetic manner inwhich he made those assertions; even the sportive kiss that ended thequestion did not dispel the gravity with which she prepared to reply. 

Pembroke perceiving her intent, prevented her by exclaiming, "Cease, Mary, cease! I see you are going to make a false statement. Let truthprevail, and you will not deny that I am suing for a plighted faith?You will not deny who it was that softened and subdued your heart?You cannot conceal from me that the wanderer Constantine possessesyour affections?"

Amazed at so extraordinary a charge from her hitherto alwaysrespectful as well as fraternally affectionate cousin, she reddenedwith pain and displeasure. Rising from her seat, and averting hertearful eyes, she said, "I did not expect this cruel, this ungenerousspeech from you, Pembroke! What have I done to deserve so rude, sounfeeling a reproach?"

Pembroke threw his arm round her. "Come, " said he, in a sportivevoice; "don't be tragical. I never meant to reproach you, Mary. Idare say if you gave your heart, it was only in return for his. Iknow you are a grateful girl; and I verily believe you won't findmuch difference between my friend the young Count Sobieski and theforlorn Constantine. "

A suspicion of the truth flashed across Miss Beaufort's mind. Unableto speak, she caught hold of her cousin's hands, and looking eagerlyin his face, her eyes declared the question she would have asked. 

Pembroke laughed triumphantly. A servant entering to tell him thatSir Robert was ready, he strained her to his breast and exclaimed, "Now I am revenged! Farewell! I leave you to all the pangs of doubtand curiosity!" He then flew out of the room with an arch glance ather agitated countenance, and hurried up stairs. 

She clasped her trembling hands together as the door closed on him. "O, gracious Providence!" cried she, "what am I to understand by thismystery, this joy of my cousin's? Can it be possible that theillustrious Sobieski and my contemned Constantine are the sameperson?" A burning blush overspread her face at the expression_my_ which had escaped her lips. 

Whilst the graces, the sweetness, the dignity of Thaddeus hadcaptivated her notice, his sufferings, his virtues, and themysterious interests which involved his history, in like manner hadfixed her attention had awakened her esteem. From these grounds thestep is short to love. "When the mind is conquered, the heartsurrenders at discretion. " But she knew not that she had advanced toofar to retreat, until the last scene at Dundas House, by forcing herto defend Constantine against the charge of loving her, made herconfess to herself how much she wished the charge were true. 

Poor and lowly as he seemed, she found that her whole heart and lifewere wrapped in his remembrance; that his worshipped idea was hersolace; her most precious property the dear treasure of her secretand sweetest felicity, It was the companion of her walks, the monitorof her actions. Whenever she planned, whenever she executed, sheasked herself, how would Constantine consider this? and accordinglydid she approve or condemn her conduct, for she had heard enough fromMrs. Robson to convince her that piety was the sure fountain of hisvirtues. 

When she had left London, and so far separated from this idol of hermemory, such was the impression he had stamped on her heart; heseemed ever present. The shade of Laura visited the solitude ofVaucluse; the image of Constantine haunted the walks of Somerset. Theloveliness of nature, its leafy groves and verdant meadows, itsblooming mornings and luxuriant sunsets, the romantic shadows oftwilight or the soft glories of the moon and stars, as they pressedbeauty and sentiment upon her heart, awoke it to the remembrance ofConstantine; she saw his image, she felt his soul, in every object. Subtile and undefinable is that ethereal chord which unites ourtenderest thought, with their chain of association!

Before this conversation, in which Pembroke mentioned the name ofConstantine with so much badinage and apparent familiarity, he neverheard him spoken of by Mary or his aunt without declaring adispleasure nearly amounting to anger. Hence when she considered hisnow so strangely altered tone, Miss Beaufort necessarily concludedthat he had seen, in the person of him she most valued, the man whosepublic character she had often heard him admire, and who, she nowdoubted not, had at some former period given him some private reasonfor calling him his friend. Before this time, she more than once hadsuspected, from the opinions which Somerset occasionally repeatedrespecting the affairs of Poland, that he could only have acquired soaccurate a knowledge of its events by having visited the countryitself. She mentioned her suspicion to Mr. Loftus: he denied thefact; and she had thought no more on the subject until the presentambiguous hints of her cousin conjured up these doubts anew, and ledher to suppose that if Pembroke had not disobeyed his father so faras to go to Warsaw, he must have met with the Count Sobieski in someother realm. The possibility that this young hero, of whom fame spokeso loudly, might be the mysterious Constantine, bewildered anddelighted her. The more she compared what she had heard of the onewith what she had witnessed in the other, the more was she reconciledto the probability of her ardent hope. Besides, she could not for amoment retain a belief that her cousin would so cruelly sport withher delicacy and peace as to excite expectations that he could notfulfil. 

Agitated by a suspense which bordered on agony, with a beating heartshe heard his quick step descending the stairs. The door opened, andPembroke, flying into the room, caught up his hat. As he was dartingaway again, unable to restrain her impatience, Miss Beaufort with animploring voice ejaculated his name. He turned, and displayed to heramazed sight a countenance in which no vestige of his formeranimation could be traced. His cheek was flushed, and his eyes shot awild fire that struck to her heart. Unconscious what she did, she ranup to him; but Pembroke, pushing her back, exclaimed, "Don't ask meany questions, if you would not drive me to madness. "

"O Heaven!" cried she, catching his arm, and clinging to him, whilethe eagerness of his motion dragged her into the hall. "Tell me! Hasanything happened to my guardian--to your friend--to Constantine?"

"No, " replied he, looking at her with a face full of desperation;"but my father commands me to treat him like a villain. "

She could hardly credit her senses at this confirmation thatConstantine and Sobieski were one. Turning giddy with the tumultuousdelight that rushed over her soul, she staggered back a few paces, and leaning against the open door, tried to recover breath to regainthe room she had left. 

Pembroke, having escaped from her grasp, ran furiously down the hill, mounted his horse, and forbidding any groom to attend him, gallopedtowards the high road with the impetuosity of a madman. All thepowers of his soul were in arms, Wounded, dishonored, stigmatizedwith ingratitude and baseness, he believed himself to be the mostdegraded of men. 

It appeared that Sir Robert Somerset had long cherished a hatred tothe Poles, in consequence of some injury he affirmed he had receivedin early youth from one of that nation. In this instance his dislikewas implacable; and when his son set out for the continent, hepositively forbade him to enter Poland. Notwithstanding hisremembrance of this violated injunction, when Pembroke joined thebaronet in his library, he did it with confidence. With a boundingheart and animated countenance, he recapitulated how he had beenwrought upon by his young Russian friends to take up arms in theircause and march into Poland. At these last words his father turnedpale, and though he did not speak, the denunciation was on his brow. 

Pembroke, who expected some marks of displeasure, hastened toobliterate his disobedience by narrating the event which hadintroduced not only the young Count Sobieski to his succor, but theconsequent friendship of the whole of that princely family. 

Sir Robert still made no verbal reply, but his countenance deepenedin gloom; and when Pembroke, with all the pathos of a deep regret, attempted to describe the death of the palatine, the horrors whichattended the last hours of the countess, and the succeeding misery ofThaddeus, who was now in England, no language can paint the frenzywhich burst at once from the baronet. He stamped on the ground, hecovered his face with his clenched hands; then turning on his sonwith a countenance no longer recognizable, he exclaimed with fury, "Pembroke! you have outraged my commands! Never will I pardon you ifthat young man ever blasts me with his sight. "

"Merciful Heaven!" cried Pembroke, thunderstruck at a violence whichhe almost wished might proceed from real madness: "surely somethinghas agitated my father! What can this mean?"

Sir Robert shook his head, whilst his teeth ground against eachother. "Don't mistake me, " replied he, in a firm voice "I amperfectly in my senses. It depends on _you_ that I continue so. You know my oath against all of that nation! and I repeat again, ifyou ever bring that young man into my presence, you shall never seeme more. "

A cold dew overspread the body of Pembroke. He would have caught hisfather's hand, but he held it back. "O sir, " said he, "you surelycannot intend that I shall treat with ingratitude the man who savedmy life?"

Sir Robert did not vouchsafe him an answer, but continued walking upand down the room, until, his hesitation increasing at every step, heopened the door of an interior apartment and retired, bidding his sonremain where he left him. 

The horror-struck Pembroke waited a quarter of an hour before hisfather re-entered. When he did appear, the deep gloom of his eye gaveno encouragement to his son, who, hanging down his head, recoiledfrom speaking first. Sir Robert approached with a composed but severecountenance, and said, "I have been seeking every palliation thatyour conduct might admit, but I can find none. Before you quittedEngland, you knew well my abhorrence of Poland. One of that countrymany years ago wounded my happiness in a way I shall never recover. From that hour I took an oath never to enter its borders, and neverto suffer one of its people to come within my doors. Rash, disobedient boy! You know my disposition, and you have seen theemotion with which this dilemma has shaken my soul! I But be it onyour own head that you have incurred obligations which I cannotrepay. I will not perjure myself to defray a debt contracted againstmy positive and declared principles. I never will see this Polanderyou speak of; and it is my express command, on pain of my eternalmalediction, that you break with him entirely. "

Pembroke fell into a seat. Sir Robert proceeded. 

"I pity your distress, but my resolution cannot be shaken. Oaths arenot to be broken with impunity. You must either resign him or resignme. We may compromise your debt of gratitude. I will give you deedsto put your friend in possession of five hundred pounds a-year forlife forever; nay, I would even double it to give you satisfaction;but from the hour in which you tell him so, you must see him nomore. "

Sir Robert was quitting the room, when Pembroke, starting from hischair, threw himself in agony on his knees, and catching by the skirtof his father's coat, implored him for God's sake to recall hiswords; to remember that he was affixing everlasting dishonor on hisson! "Remember, dear sir!" cried he, holding his struggling hand, "that the man to whom you offer money as a compensation for insult isof a nature too noble to receive it. He will reject it, and spurn me;and I shall know that I deserve his scorn. For mercy's sake, spare methe agony of harrowing up the heart of my preserver--of meetingreproach from his eyes!"

"Leave me!" cried the baronet, breaking from him; "I repeat, unlessyou wish to incur my curse, do as I have commanded. "

Thus outraged, thus agonised, Pembroke had appeared before the eyesof his cousin Mary more like a distracted creature than a manpossessed of his senses. Shortly after his abrupt departure, herapprehension was petrified to a dreadful certainty of some cruel ruinto her hopes, by an order she received in the handwriting of heruncle, commanding her not to attempt visiting Lady Tinemouth whilstthe Count Sobieski continued to be her guest, and under peril of hisdispleasure never to allow that name to pass her lips. 

Hardly knowing whither he went, Pembroke did not arrive at the ruinedaisle which leads to the habitable part of the Abbey until near threeo'clock. He inquired of the groom that took his horse whether thecountess and Mr. Constantine were at home. The man replied in theaffirmative, but added, with a sad countenance, he feared neither ofthem could be seen. 

"For what reason?" demanded Somerset. 

"Alas! sir, " replied the servant, "about an hour ago my lady wasseized with a violent fit of coughing, which ended in the rupture ofa blood-vessel. It continued to flow so long, that Mr. Constantinetold the apothecary, whom he had summoned, to send for a physician. The doctor is not yet arrived, and Mr. Constantine won't leave mylady, "

Though Mr. Somerset was truly concerned at the illness of thecountess, the respite it afforded him from immediately declaring theungrateful message of Sir Robert gave him no inconsiderable degree ofease. Somewhat relieved by the hope of being for one day spared theanguish of displaying his father in a disgraceful light, he enteredthe Abbey, and desired that a maid-servant might be sent to herladyship's room to inform his friend that Mr. Somerset was below. 

In a few minutes the girl returned with the following lines on a slipof paper:

"To Pembroke Somerset, Esq. 

"I am grieved that I cannot see my dear Somerset to-day I fear myrevered friend is on her death-bed. I have sent for Dr. Cavendish, who is now at Stanford; doubtless you know he is a man of the firstabilities. If human skill can preserve her, I may yet have hopes; buther disorder is on the lung and in the heart, and I fear the strokeis sure. I am now sitting by her bedside, and writing what shedictates to her husband, her son, and her daughter. Painful, you maybelieve, is this task! I cannot, my dear Somerset, add more than myhope of seeing you soon, and that you will join in prayers to Heavenfor the restoration of my inestimable friend, with your faithful andaffectionate

"Sobieski. "

"Alas! unhappy, persecuted Sobieski!" thought Pembroke, as he closedthe paper; "to what art thou doomed! Some friends are torn from theeby death; others desert thee in the hour of trouble. "

He took out his pencil to answer this distressing epistle, but hestopped at the first word; he durst not write that his father wouldfulfil any one of those engagements which he had so largely promised;and throwing away the pencil and the paper, he left a verbaldeclaration of his sorrow at what had happened, and an assurance ofcalling next day. Turning his back on a house which he had left onthe preceding night with so many joyful hopes, he remounted hishorse, and, melancholy and slow, rode about the country untilevening, --so unwilling was he to return to that home which nowthreatened him with the frowns of his father, the tears of MaryBeaufort, and the miserable reflections of his own wretched heart. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

THE MATERNAL HEART. 

Doctor Cavendish having been detained beyond his expected time withhis invalid friend at Stanford, was happily still there, and set offfor Harrowby the instant Mr. Constanine's messenger arrived, andbefore midnight alighted at the Abbey. 

When he entered Lady Tinemouth's chamber he found her supported inthe arms of Thaddeus, and struggling with a second rupture of herlungs. As he approached the bed, Thaddeus turned his eyes on him withan expression that powerfully told his fears. Dr. Cavendish silentlypressed his hand; then taking from his pocket some styptic drops, hemade the countess swallow them, and soon saw that they succeeded instopping the hemorrhage. 

Thaddeus and her physician remained by the side of the patientsufferer until ten in the morning, when she sunk into a gentle sleep. Complete stillness being necessary to continue this repose, the gooddoctor proposed leaving the maid to watch by her ladyship, anddrawing the count out of the room, descended the stairs. 

Mr. Somerset had been arrived half an hour, and met them in thebreakfast parlor. After a few kind words exchanged between theparties, they sat down with dejected countenances to their melancholymeal. Thaddeus was too much absorbed in the scene he had left to takeanything but a dish of coffee. 

"Do you think Lady Tinemouth is in imminent danger?" inquiredPembroke of the doctor. 

Dr. Cavendish sighed, and turning to Thaddeus, directed to him theanswer which his friend's question demanded. "I am afraid, my dearMr. Constantine, " said he, in a reluctant voice, "that you are tosustain a new trial! I fear she cannot live eight-and-forty hours. "

Thaddeus cast down his eyes and shuddered, but made no reply. Furtherremarks were prevented by a messenger from the countess, who desiredMr. Constantine's immediate attendance at her bedside. He obeyed. Inhalf an hour he returned, with the mark of tears upon his cheek. 

"Dearest Thaddeus!" cried Pembroke, "I trust the countess is notworse? This threatened new bereavement is too much: it afflicts myvery heart. " Indeed it rent it; for Pembroke could not helpinternally acknowledging that when Sobieski should close the eyes ofLady Tinemouth, he would be paying the last sad office to his lastfriend. That dear distinction he durst no longer arrogate to himself. Denied the fulfilment of its duties, he thought that to retain thetitle would be an assumption without a right. 

Thaddeus drew his hand over his again filling eyes. "The countessherself, " said he, "feels the truth of what Dr. Cavendish told us. She sent for me, and begged me, as I loved her or would wish to seeher die in peace, to devise some means for bringing her daughter tothe Abbey to-night. As for Lord Harwold, she says his behavior sincehe arrived at manhood has been of a nature so cruel and unnatural, that she would not draw on herself the misery, nor on him the addedguilt, of a refusal; but with regard to Lady Albina, who has been nosharer in those barbarities, she trusts a daughter's heart might beprevailed on to seek a last embrace from a dying parent. It is thisrequest, " continued he, "that agitates me. When she pictured to me, with all the fervor of a mother, her doating fondness for thisdaughter, (on whom, whenever she did venture to hope, all those hopesrested;) when she wrung my hand, and besought me, as if I had beenthe sole disposer of her fate, to let her see her child before shedied, I could only promise every exertion to effect it, and with anaching heart I came to consult you. "

Dr. Cavendish was opening his lips to speak, but Somerset, in hiseagerness to relieve his friend, did not perceive it, and immediatelyanswered, "This very hour I will undertake what you have promised. Iknow Lord Tinemouth's family are now at the Wolds. It is only thirtymiles distant; I will send a servant to have relays of horses ready. My curricle, which is now at the door, will be more convenient than achaise; and I will engage to be back before to-morrow morning. Writea letter, Thaddeus, " added he, "to Lady Albina; tell her of hermother's situation; and though I have never seen the young lady, Iwill give it into her own hand, and then bring her off, even were itin the face of her villanous father. "

The pale cheeks of Sobieski flushed with a conscious scarlet. Turningto Dr. Cavendish, he requested him, as the most proper person, towrite to Lady Albina, whilst he would walk out with his friend toorder the carriage. Pembroke was thanked for his zeal, but it was notby words; they are too weak vehicles to convey strong impressions. Thaddeus pressed his hand, and accompanied the action with a lookwhich spoke volumes. The withered heart of Pembroke expanded underthe animated gratitude of his friend. Receiving the letter, he spranginto his seat, and, until he lost sight of Harrowby Hill, forgot howsoon he must appear to that friend the most ungrateful of men. 

It was near six in the evening before Mr. Somerset left his curricleat the little inn which skirts the village of Harthorpe. He affectedto make some inquiries respecting the families in the neighborhood;and his host informed him that the ladies of the earl's family weregreat walkers, passing almost the whole of the day in the grounds. The measures to be adopted were now obvious. The paling belonging toLord Tinemouth's park was only a few yards distant; but fearful ofbeing observed, Pembroke sought a more obscure part. Scaling a wallwhich was covered by the branches of high trees, he found his way tothe house through an almost impassable thicket. 

He watched nearly an hour in vain for the appearance of Lady Albina, whose youth and elegance, he thought, would unequivocally distinguishher from the rest of the earl's household. Despairing of success, hewas preparing to change his station, when he heard a sound among thedry leaves, and the next moment a beautiful young creature passed thebush behind which he was concealed. The fine symmetry of her profileassured him that she must be the daughter of Lady Tinemouth. Shestooped to gather a china-aster. Knowing that no time should be lost, Pembroke gently emerged from his recess, but not in so quiet a manneras to escape the ear of Lady Albina, who instantly looking round, screamed, and would have fled, had he not thrown himself before her, and exclaimed, "Stay, Lady Albina! For heaven's sake, stay! I comefrom your mother!"

She gazed fearfully in his face, and tried to release her hand, whichhe had seized to prevent her flight. 

"Do not be alarmed, " continued he; "no harm is intended you. I am theson of Sir Robert Somerset, and the friend of your mother, who is nowat the point of death. She implores to see you this night (for shehas hardly an hour to live) to hear from your own lips that you donot hate her. "

Lady Albina trembled dreadfully, and with faded cheeks and quiveringlips replied, "Hate my mother! Oh, no! I have ever dearly loved her!"

A flood of tears prevented her speaking further; and Pembroke, perceiving that he had gained her confidence, put the doctor's letterinto her hand. The gentle heart of Lady Albina bled at every wordwhich her almost blinded eyes perused. Turning to Pembroke, who stoodcontemplating her lovely countenance with the deepest interest, shesaid, "Pray, Mr. Somerset, take me now to my mother. Were she to diebefore I arrive, I should be miserable for life. Alas! alas! I havenever been allowed to behold her!--never been allowed to visitLondon, because my father knew that I believed my poor motherinnocent, and would have seen her, had it been possible. "

Lady Albina wept violently while she spoke, and giving her hand toPembroke, timidly looked towards the house, and added, "You must takeme this instant. We must haste away, in case we should be surprised. If Lady Olivia were to know that I have been speaking with anybodyout of the family I should be locked up for months. "

Pembroke did not require a second command from his beautiful charge. Conducting her through the unfrequented paths by which he hadentered, he seated her in his curricle and whipping his horses, setoff, full speed, towards the melancholy goal of his enterprise. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

HARROWBY ABBEY. 

Whilst the two anxious travellers were pursuing their sad journey, the inhabitants of the Abbey were distracted with apprehension lestthe countess might expire before their arrival. Ever since LadyTinemouth received information that Mr. Somerset was gone to theWolds, hope and fear agitated her by turns, till, wearied out withsolicitude and expectation, she turned her dim eyes upon Thaddeus, and said, in a languid voice, "My dear friend, it must be nearmidnight. I shall never see the morning; I shall never in this worldsee my child. I pray you, thank Mr. Somerset for all the trouble Ihave occasioned; and my daughter--my Albina! O father of mercies!"cried she, holding up her clasped hands, "pour all thy blessings uponher head! She never wilfully gave this broken heart a pang!"

The countess had hardly ended speaking when Thaddeus heard a bustleon the stairs. Suspecting that it might be the arrival of his friend, he made a sign to Dr. Cavendish to go and inquire. His heart beatviolently whilst he kept his eye fixed on the door, and held thefeeble pulse of Lady Tinemouth in his hand. The doctor re-entered, and in a low voice whispered, "Lady Albina is here. "

The words acted like magic on the fading senses of the countess. Withpreternatural strength she started from her pillow, and catching holdof Sobieski's arm with both hers, cried, "O give her to me whilst Ihave life. "

Lady Albina appeared, led in by Pembroke, but instantly quitting hishand, with an agonizing shriek she rushed towards the bed, and flungherself into the extended arms of her mother, whose arms closed onher, and the head of the countess rested on her bosom. 

Dr. Cavendish perceived by the struggles of the young lady that shewas in convulsions; and taking her off the bed, he consigned her toPembroke and his friend, who, between them, carried her into anotherapartment. He remained to assist the countess. 

Albina was removed; but the eyes of her amiable and injured motherwere never again unclosed: she had breathed her last sigh, ingrateful ecstasy, on the bosom of her daughter; and Heaven had takenher spotless soul to Himself. 

Being convinced that the countess was indeed no more, the good doctorleft her remains in charge of the women; and repairing to theadjoining room, found Lady Albina yet senseless in the arms of histwo friends. She was laid on a sofa, and Cavendish was pouring somedrops into her mouth, when he descried Thaddeus gliding out of theroom. Desirous to spare him the shock of suddenly seeing the corpseof one whom he loved so truly, he said, "Stop, Mr. Constantine! Iconjure you, do not go into the countess's room!"

The eyes of Thaddeus turned with emotion on the distressed face ofthe physician; one glance explained what the doctor durst not speak. Faintly answering, "I will obey you, " he hurried from the apartment. 

In the count's silent descent from Lady Albina's room to thebreakfast-parlor, he too plainly perceived by the tears of theservants that he had now another sorrow to add to his mournful list. He hastened from participation in their clamorous laments, almostunseen, into the parlor, and shutting the door, threw himself into achair; but rest induced thought, and thought subdued his soul. Hestarted from his position; he paced the room in a paroxysm ofanguish; he would have given worlds for one tear to relieve hisoppressed heart. Ready to suffocate, he threw open a window andleaned out. Not a star was visible to light the darkness. The windblew freshly, and with parched lips he inhaled it as the revivingbreath of Heaven. 

He was sitting on the window-seat, with his head leaning against thecasement, when Pembroke entered unobserved; walking up to him, helaid his hand upon his arm, and ejaculated in a tremulous voice, "Thaddeus, dear Thaddeus!"

Thaddeus rose at the well-known sounds: they reminded him that he wasnot yet alone in the world for his soul had been full of the dyingimage of his own mother. Clasping Somerset in his arms, he exclaimed, "Heaven has still reserved thee, faithful and beloved, to be mycomforter! In thy friendship and fond memories, " he added, with a yetheaving breast, "I shall find tender bonds of the past still toendear me to the world. "

Pembroke received the embrace of his friend; he felt his tears uponhis cheek; but he could neither return the one nor sympathize withthe other. The conviction that he was soon to sever that cord, thathe was to deprive the man who had preserved his life of the only stayof his existence, and abandon him to despair, struck to his soul. Grasping the hand of his friend, he gazed on his averted and dejectedfeatures with a look of desperate horror. "Sobieski, " cried he, "whatever may happen, never forget that I swear I love you dearerthan my life! And when I am forced to abandon my friend, I shall notbe long of abandoning what will then be worthless to me. "

Not perceiving the frenzied look which accompanied this energeticdeclaration, Thaddeus gave no other meaning to the words than arenewed assurance of his friend's affection. 

The entrance of Dr. Cavendish disturbed the two young men, to whom hecommunicated the increased indisposition of Lady Albina. 

"The shock she has received, " said he, "has so materially shaken herframe, I have ordered her to bed and administered an opiate, which Ihope will procure her repose; and you, my dear sir, " added he, addressing the count, "you had better seek rest! The stoutestconstitution might sink under what you have lately endured. Prayallow Mr. Somerset and myself to prevail with you, on our accounts, if not on your own, to retire for half an hour!"

Thaddeus, in disregard of his personal comfort, never infringed onthat of others; he felt that he could not sleep, but he knew it wouldgratify his benevolent friends to suppose that he did; andaccordingly he went to a room, and throwing himself on a bed, lay foran hour, ruminating on all that had passed. 

There is an omnipresence in thought, or a celerity producing nearlythe same effect, which brings within the short space of a few minutesthe images of many foregoing years. In almost the same moment, Thaddeus reflected on his strange meeting with the countess; themelancholy story; her forlorn death-bed; the fatal secret that hervile husband and son were his father and brother; and that herdaughter, whom his warm heart acknowledged as a sister, was with himunder the same roof, and, like him, the innocent inheritor of herfather's shame. 

Whilst these multifarious and painful meditations were agitating hisperturbed mind, Dr. Cavendish found repose on a couch; and PembrokeSomerset, resolving once more to try the influence of entreaty on thehitherto generous spirit of his father, with mingled hope anddespondence commenced a last attempt to shake his fatal resolution, in the following letter:

"TO SIR ROBERT SOMERSET, BART, SOMERSET CASTLE. 

"I have not ventured into the presence of my dear father since heuttered the dreadful words which I would give my existence to believeI had never heard. You denounced a curse upon me if I opposed yourwill to have me break all connection with the man who preserved mylife! When I think on this, when I remember that it was from_you_ I received a command so inexplicable from one of yourcharacter, so disgraceful to mine, I am almost mad; and what I shallbe should you, by repeating your injunctions, force me to obey them, Heaven only knows! but I am certain that I cannot survive the loss ofmy honor; I cannot survive the sacrifice of all my principles ofvirtue which such conduct must forever destroy. 

"Oh, my father! I conjure you, reflect, before, in compliance with anoath it was almost guilt to make, you decree your only son toeverlasting shame and remorse. Act how I will, I shall never be happymore. I cannot live under your malediction; and should I give up myfriend, my conscience will reproach me every instant of my existence. Can I draw the breath which he prolonged and cease to remember that Ihave abandoned him to want and misery? It were vain to flatter myselfthat he will condescend to escape either by the munificence which youoffer as a compensation for my friendship. No; I cannot believe thathis sensible and independent nature is so changed; circumstancesnever had any power over the nobility of his soul. 

"Misfortune, which threw the Count Sobieski on the bounty of England, cannot make him appear otherwise in my eyes than as the idol ofWarsaw, whose smile was honor and whose friendship conferreddistinction. 

"Though deprived of the splendor of command; though the eager circleof friends no longer cluster round him; though a stranger in thiscountry, and without a home; though, in place of an equipage andretinue, he is followed by calamit and neglect, yet, in my mind, Istill see him in a car of triumph I see not only the opposer of hisnation's enemies, but the vanquisher of his own desires. I see theheir of a princely house, who, when mankind have deserted him, is yetencompassed by his virtues. I see him, though cast out from ahardened and unjust society, still surrounded by the lingeringspirits of those who were called to better worlds!

"And this is the man, my dear father, (whom I am sure, had he been ofany other country than Poland, you would have selected from all othermen to be the friend and example of your son), --this is he whom youcommand me to thrust away. 

"I beseech you to examine this injunction! I am now writing under thesame roof with him; it depends on you, my ever-revered father, whether I am doing so for the last time; whether this is the last dayin which your son is to consider himself a man of honor, or whetherhe is henceforth to be a wretch overwhelmed with shame and sorrow!

"I have not yet dared to utter one word of your cruel orders to myunhappy friend. He is now retired to seek some rest, after the newanguish of having witnessed the almost sudden death of LadyTinemouth. Should I have to tell him that he is to lose me too-but Icannot add more. Your own heart, my father, must tell you that mysoul is on the rack until I have an answer to this letter. "

"Before I shut my paper, let me implore you on my knees, whatever youmay decide, do not hate me; do not load my breaking heart with aparent's curse! Whatever I may be, however low and degraded in my owneyes, still, that I sacrificed what is most precious to me, to myfather, will impart the only consolation which will then have powerto reach your dutiful and afflicted son. 

"P. SOMERSET. 

"HARROWBY ABBEY, TWO O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. "

Dr. Cavendish remained in a profound sleep, whilst Pembroke, with anaching heart having written the above letter, and dispatched it by aman and horse, tried to compose himself to half an hour'sforgetfulness of life and its turmoils; but he found his attempts asineffectual as those of his friend. 

Thaddeus had found no repose on his restless pillow. Reluctant todisturb the doctor and Somerset, who, he hoped, having less cause forregret, were sleeping tranquilly, he remained in bed; but he longedfor morning. To his fevered nerves, any change of position, withmovement, seemed better than where he was, and with some gleams ofpleasure he watched the dawn, and the rising of the son behind theopposite hill. He got up, opened the window to inhale the air, andlooking out, saw a man throw himself off a horse, which was all infoam, and enter the house. 

Surprised at this circumstance, he descended to the parlor to makeinquiry, and met the man in the hall, who, being Pembroke'smessenger, had returned express from the Castle, bearing an orderfrom Sir Robert (who was taken alarmingly ill) that his son must comeback immediately. 

Dismayed with this new distress, Mr. Somerset, on its instantinformation, pressed the count so closely to his breast when he badehim farewell, that a more suspicious person might have apprehended itwas a final parting; but Thaddeus discerned nothing more in theanguish of his friend's countenance than fear for the safety of SirRobert; and fervently wishing his recovery, he bade Pembroke rememberthat should more assistance be necessary, Dr. Cavendish would remainat the Abbey until Lady Albina's return to the Wolds. 

Mr. Somerset being gone, towards noon, when the count was anxiouslyawaiting the appearance of the physician from the room of the newinvalid, he was disappointed by the abrupt entrance of two gentlemen. He rose, and with his usual courtesy to strangers, inquired theirbusiness? The elder of the men, with a fierce countenance and a voiceof thunder, announced himself to be the Earl of Tinemouth, and theother his son. 

"We are come, " said he, standing at a haughty distance--"we are cometo carry from this nest of infamy Lady Albina Stanhope, whom some oneof her mother's paramours--perhaps you, sir--dared to steal from herfather's home yesterday evening. And I am come to give you, sir, whoI guess to be some fugitive vagabond! the chastisement your audacitydeserves. "

With difficulty the Count Sobieski suppressed the passions which wererising in his breast. He turned a scornful glance on the person ofLord Harwold (who, with an air of insufferable derision, was coollymeasuring his figure through an eyeglass); and then, replying to theearl, said, in a firm voice, "My lord, whoever you suppose me to be, it matters not; I now stand in the place of Lady Tinemouth'sconfidential friend, and to my last gasp I will prove myself thedefender of he injured name. "

"Her lover!" interrupted Lord Harwold, turning on his heel. 

"Her defender, sir!" repeated Thaddeus, with a tremendous frown; "andshame and sorrow will pursue that son who requires a stranger tosupply his duty. "

"Wretch!" cried the earl, forgetting his assumed loftiness, andadvancing passionately towards Thaddeus, with his stick held up; "howdare you address such language to an English nobleman?"

"By the right of nature, which holds her laws over all mankind, "returned Thaddeus, calmly looking on the raised stick. "When anEnglish nobleman forgets that he is a son, he deserves reproach fromhis meanest vassal. "

"You see, my lord, " cried Harwold, sliding behind his father, "whatwe bring on ourselves by harboring these democratic foreigners! Sir, "added he, addressing himself to Thaddeus, "your dangerous principlesshall be communicated to Government. Such traitors ought to hanged. "

Sobieski eyed the enraged little lord with contempt; and turning tothe earl, who was again going to speak, he said, in an unalteredtone, "I cannot guess, Lord Tinemouth, what is the reason of thisattack on me. I came hither by accident; I found the countess ill;and, from respect to her excellent qualities, I remained with heruntil her eyes were closed forever. She desired to see her daughterbefore she died, --what human heart could deny a mother such arequest?--and Pembroke Somerset, her kinsman, undertook to bring LadyAlbina to the Abbey. 

"Pembroke Somerset!" echoed the earl. "A pretty guard for mydaughter, truly! I have no doubt that he is just such a fellow as hisfather--just such a person as yourself! I am not to be imposed upon. I know Lady Tinemouth to have been a disgrace to me, and you to bethat German adventurer on whose account I sent her from London. "

Shocked at this calumny on the memory of a woman whose fame from anyother mouth came as unsullied as purity itself, Thaddeus gazed withhorror at the furious countenance of the man whom he believed to behis father. His heart swelled; but not deigning to reply to a chargeas unmanly as it was false, he calmly took out of his pocket twoletters which the countess had dictated to her husband and her son. 

Lord Harwold tore his open, cast his eyes over the first words, thencrumpling it in his hand, threw it from him, exclaiming, "I am not tobe frightened either by her arts or the falsehoods of the fellowswith whom she dishonored her name. "

Thaddeus, no longer master of himself, sprang towards his unnaturalson, and seized his arm with an iron grasp. "Lord Harwold!" cried he, in a dreadful voice, "were it not that I have some mercy on you forthat parent's sake, to whom, like a parricide, you are giving asecond death by such murderous slander, I would resent her wrongs atthe hazard of your worthless life!"

"My lord! my lord!" cried the trembling Harwold, quaking under thegripe of Thaddeus, and shrinking from the terrible brightness of hiseye, --"my lord! my lord, rescue me!"

The earl, almost suffocated with rage, called out, "Ruffian! let gomy son!" and again raising his arm, aimed a blow at the head ofThaddeus, who, wrenching the stick out of the foaming lord's hand, snapped it in two, and threw the pieces out of the open window. 

Lord Harwold took this opportunity to ring the bell violently, onwhich summons two of his servants entered the room. 

"Now, you low-born, insolent scoundrel, " cried the disarmed earl, stamping with his feet, and pointing to the men who stood at thedoor; "you shall be turned by the neck and heels out of this house. Richard, James, collar that fellow instantly. "

Thaddeus only extended his arm to the men (who were lookingconfusedly on each other), and calmly said, "If either of you attemptto obey this command of your lord, you shall have cause to repentit. "

The men retreated. The earl repeated his orders. 

"Rascals! do as I command you, or instantly quit my service. I willteach you, " added he, clenching his fist at the count, who stoodresolutely and serenely before him, "I will teach you how to behaveto a man of high birth. "

The footmen were again deterred from approaching by a glance from theintimidating eyes of Thaddeus, who, turning with stern dignity to thestorming earl, said, "You can teach me nothing about high birth thatI do not already know. Could it be of any independent benefit to aman, then had I not received the taunts and insults which you havedared to cast upon me. "

At that moment Dr. Cavendish, having heard a bustle, made hisappearance. Amazed at the sight of two strangers, who from theirenraged countenances and the proud elevation with which Thaddeus wasstanding between them, he rightly judged to be the earl and his son, he advanced towards his friend, intending to support him in theattack which he saw was menaced by the violent gestures of thesevisitors. 

"Dr. Cavendish, " said Thaddeus, speaking to him as he approached, "your name must be a passport to the confidence of any man; Itherefore shall gratify the husband of my ever lamented friend byquitting this house; but I delegate to you the office with which sheentrusted me. I leave you in charge of her sacred remains, and of thejewels which you will find in her apartment. She desired that half ofthem might be given with her blessing, to her daughter, and the otherhalf, with her pardon, to her son. "

"Tell me. Dr. Cavendish, " cried the earl, as Thaddeus was passing himto leave the room, "who is that insolent fellow? By heaven, he shallsmart for this!"

"Ay, that he shall, " rejoined Lord Harwold, "if I have any interestwith the Alien-office. "

Dr. Cavendish was preparing to speak, when Thaddeus, turning round atthis last threat of the viscount, said, "If I did not know myself tobe above Lord Harwold's power, perhaps he might provoke me to treathim according to his deserts; but I abjure resentment, while I pityhis delusions. For you, my lord, " added he, addressing the earl witha less calm countenance, "there is an angel in heaven who pleadsagainst the insults you have uninquiringly and unjustly heaped uponan innocent man!"

Thaddeus disappeared from the apartment while uttering the last word;hastening from the house and park, he stopped near the brow of thehill, at the porch of his lately peaceful little hotel. The landladywas a sister of John Jacobs, the faithful servant of his lamentedfriend, and who was then watching the door of the neglected chamberin which the sacred remains of his dear mistress lay, as he wouldhave guarded her life, had the foes who had now destroyed it beenstill menacing its flickering flame. The worthy couple were alsoattached to that benevolent lady; and with sad looks, but respectfulwelcoming, they saw Mr. Constantine re-enter their humble home, andassured him of its retirement as long as he might wish to abide inthe neighborhood of the Abbey. Any prospect of repose promisedelysium to him; and with harassed and torn nerves he took possessionof his apartment, which looked down the road that led from the oldmonastic structure to the town of Grantham. The rapidity of therecent events bewildered his senses, like the illusions of a dream. He had seen his father, his sister, his brother; and most probably hehad parted from them forever!--at least, he hoped he should neveragain be tortured with the sight of Lord Tinemouth or his son. 

"How, " thought he, whilst walking up and down his solitary parlor, "could the noble nature of my mother love such a man? and how couldhe have held so long an empire over the pure heart he has just nowbroken. "

He could nowhere discern, in the bloated visage and rageful gesturesof the earl, any of that beauty of countenance or grace of mannerswhich had alike charmed Therese Sobieski and the tender Acleliza. 

Like those hideous chasms which are dug deep in the land by theimpetuous sweep of a torrent, the course of violent passions leavesvast and irreparable traces on the features and in the soul. So itwas with Lord Tinemouth. 

"How legibly does vice or virtue, " ejaculated Thaddeus, "write itselfon the human face! The earl's might once have been fine, but thelineaments of selfishness and sin have degraded every part of him. Mysterious Providence! Can he be my father--can it be his blood thatis now running in my veins? Can it be his blood that rises at thismoment with detestation against him?"

Before the sun set, Sobieski was aroused from these painfulsoliloquies by still more painful feelings. He saw from his window ahearse driving at full speed up the road that ascended to the Abbey, and presently return at a slower pace, followed by a single blackcoach. 

"Inhuman men!" exclaimed he, while pursuing with his eyes the tips ofthe sable plumes as the meagre cavalcade of mourners wound down thehill; "could you not allow this poor corse a little rest? Must herpersecution be extended to the grave? Must her cold relics beinsulted, be hurried to the tomb without reverence--without decency?"

The filial heart that uttered this thought also of his own injuredmother, and shrunk with horror at this climax of the earl'sbarbarity. Dr. Cavendish entered with a flushed countenance. He spokeindignantly of the act he still saw from the window, which hedenounced as a sacrilege against the dead. "Not four-and-twenty hourssince, " cried he, "she expired! and she is hurried into the coldbosom of the earth, like a criminal, or a creature whose ashes amoment above ground might spread a pestilence. Oh, how can that sweetvictim, Lady Albin, share such peccant blood?"

Thaddeus, whose soul had just writhed under a similar question withregard to himself, could little bear the repetition and interruptedthe good physician by tenderly inquiring how she had borne that soabrupt removal of her mother's remains. 

"With mute anguish, " returned Dr. Cavendish, in a responding, calmervoice of pity; "and though I had warned her father that the shock ofso suddenly tearing his daughter from such beloved relics might perilher own life, he continued obdarate; and putting her into histravelling chariot in a state of insensibility, along with her maid, in a few minutes afterwards I saw him set off in a hired post-chaise, accompanied by his detestable son, loaded with more than one curse, muttered by the honest rustics. Only servants followed in thatmourning coach. "

In the midst of this depressing conversation a courier arrived fromStamford to Dr. Cavendish, recalling him immediately to returnthither, the invalid there having sustained an alarming relapse. Thegood doctor, sincerely reluctant to quit Thaddeus (whom he still knewby no other name than Constantine), ordered the dispatch-chaise tothe hotel door. When it was announced, he shook hands with the nowlonely survivor of his departed friend in this stranger land, requested that he might hear from him before he left that part of thecountry for London again, and bidding him many cordial adieus, continued to look out of the back window of the carriage, until thefaint light of the moon and the receding glimmer of the villagecandles finally hid the little spot that yet contained this young andsadly-stricken exile from his lingering eyes. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

THE OLD VILLAGE HOTEL. 

For the first time during many nights, Thaddeus slept soundly; buthis dreams were disturbed, and he awoke from them at an early hour, unrefreshed and in much fever. 

The simple breakfast which his attentive host and hostess set beforehim was scarcely touched. Their nicely-dressed dinner met with thesame fate. He was ill, and possessed neither appetite nor spirits toeat. The good people being too civil to intrude upon him, he satalone in his window from eight o'clock (at which hour he had arisen)until the cawing of the rooks, as they returned to the Abbey-woods, reminded him of the approach of evening. He was uneasy at the absenceof Somerset, not so much on his own account, as on that of SirRobert, whose increased danger might have occasioned this delay;however, he hoped otherwise. Longing earnestly for a temporarysanctuary under his friend's paternal roof, in the quiet of its peaceand virtues, he trusted that the sympathy of Pembroke, the onlyconfidant of his past sorrows, would tend to heal his recent wounds(though the nature of the most galling, he felt, must ever remainunrevealed even to him!) and so fit him, should it be required, toyet further brave the buffets of an adverse fate. Nor was MissBeaufort forgotten. If ever one idea more than another sweetened thebitterness of his reflections, it was the remembrance of MaryBeaufort. Whenever her image rose before him--whether he werestanding in the lonely clay with folded arms, in vacant gaze on thevalley beneath, or when lying on his watchful pillow he opened hisaching eyes to the morning light-still, as her angel figure presenteditself to his mind, he did indeed sigh, but it was a sigh laden withbalm; it did not tear his breast like those which had been wrung fromhim by the hard hand of calamity and insult. It was the soft breathof a hallowed love, which makes man dream of heaven, while he feelssinking to an early grave. Thaddeus felt it delightful to recollecthow she had looked on him that day in Hyde Park, when she "bade himtake care of his own life, while so devoted to that of his dyingfriend!" and how she "blessed him in his task, " with a voice oftenderness so startlingly sacred to his soul in its accents, that inremembering her words now, when so near the moment of his againseeing and hearing her, his soul expanded towards her, agitated, indeed, but soothed and comforted. 

"Sweet Mary!" murmured he, "I shall behold thee once more; I shallagain revive under thy kind smile! Oh, it is happiness to know that Iowe my liberty to thee, though I may not dare to tell thee so! Yet myswelling heart may cherish the clear consciousness, and, bereavedthough I am of all I formerly loved, be indeed blessed while on earthwith the heaven-bestowed privilege of loving thee, even in silenceand forever! Alas! alas! a man without kindred or a country dare noteven wish thee to be his!" A sigh from the depths of his soul closedthis soliloquy. 

The sight of Pembroke riding through the field towards the littleinn, recalled the thoughts of Sobieski to that dear friend alone. Hewent out to meet him. Mr. Somerset saw him, and putting his horse toa brisk canter, was at his side in a few minutes. Thaddeus askedanxiously about the baronet's health. Pembroke answered with anincoherency devoid of all meaning. Thaddeus looked at him withsurprise, but from increased anxiety forbore to repeat the question. They walked towards the inn; still Pembroke did not appear to recoverhimself, and his evident absence of mind and the wild rambling of hiseyes were so striking, that Thaddeus could have no doubt of somedreadful accident. 

As soon as they had entered the little parlor, his friend casthimself into a chair, and throwing off his hat, wiped away theperspiration which, though a cold October evening, was streaming downhis forehead. Thaddeus endured a suspense which was almostinsupportable. 

"What is the direful matter, dear Pembroke? Is any we honor, andlove, ill unto death?" His pale face showed that he apprehended it, and he thought it might be Mary. 

"No, no, " returned Pembroke; "everybody is well, excepting myself andmy father, who, I verily believe, has lost his senses; at any rate hewill drive me mad. "

The manner in which this reply was uttered astonished Thaddeus somuch, that he could only gaze with wonder on the convulsed feature ofhis friend. Pembroke observed his amazement, and laying his hand onhis arm, said, "My dear, dear Sobieski! what do I not owe to you?Good Heaven! how humbled am I in your sight! But there is a Powerabove who knows how intimately you are woven with every artery ofthis heart. "

"I believe it, my kind Pembroke, " cried Thaddeus, yet more alarmedthan before; "tell me what it is that distresses you? If my counselor my sympathy can offer anything to comfort or assist you, you knowI am your own. "

Pembroke burst into tears, and covering his streaming eyes with hishandkerchief, exclaimed, "I am indeed distressed--distressed evenbeyond your comfort. Oh! how can I speak it! You will despise myfather! You will spurn me!"

"Impossible!" cried Thaddeus with energy, though his flushed cheekand fainting heart immediately declared that he had anticipated whathe must hear. 

"I see, " cried Pembroke, regarding the altered features of his friendwith a glance of agony--"I see that you think it is possible that myfather can sink me below my own contempt. "

The benumbing touch of ingratitude ran through the veins of Thaddeus;his frame was chilled--was petrified; but his just affection andcalmed countenance proclaimed how true a judgment he had passed onthe whole. He took the burning hand of Mr. Somerset in his own, and, with a steady and consoling voice, said, "Assure yourself, dearPembroke, whatever be the commands of your father, I shall adhere tothem. I cannot understand by these generous emotions that he objectsto receive me as your friend. Perhaps, " added he, --a flash ofsuspicion gleaming through his mind, --"perhaps Miss Beaufort may haveperceived the devotedness of my heart, and disdaining my--"

"Hush, for Heaven's sake!" cried Pembroke, starting from his chair;"do not implicate my poor cousin! Do not add to her disappointmentthe misery that you suspect her! No, Thaddeus, " continued he, in acalmer tone; "Mary Beaufort loves you: she confessed it in an agonyof grief on my bosom, just before I came away; and only through her Idare ever expect to meet forgiveness from _you_. In spite of myfather, you may marry her. She has no curse to dread; she need notsacrifice all that is most precious in her sight to the obstinatecaprice of criminal resentment. "

"A curse!" reiterated Thaddeus. "How is this!--what have I done, todeserve such hatred from your father?"

"Oh! nothing, " cried Pembroke--"nothing. My father never saw you. Myfather thanks you for all that you have done for me; but it is yourcountry that he hates. Some Polander, years back, injured him; and myfather took a fatal oath against the whole nation. He declares thathe cannot, he will not, break it, were he by so doing to save his ownlife, or even mine; for, (Heaven forgive me!) I was this morningwrought up to such frenzy, that I threatened to destroy myself ratherthan sacrifice my gratitude and honor to his cruel commands! Nay, toconvince you that his is no personal enmity to yourself, he orderedme to give you writings which will put you in possession of anindependence forever. I have them with me. "

All the pride of his princely house rose at once in the breast ofThaddeus. Though full of indignation at this insult of Sir Robert's, he regarded the averted face of his friend with compassion, whilst ina firm voice he rejected the degrading compromise. 

"Tell your father, " added he, addressing Pembroke, in a tone whicheven his affection could not soften from a command, "that my absenceis not to be bought with money, nor my friendship so rewarded. "

Pembroke covered his burning face with his hands. This sight at oncebrought down the haughty spirit of Sobieski, who continued in gentleraccents, "Whatever be the sentiments of Sir Robert Somerset, theyshall meet with clue attention from me. He is your father, thereforeI respect him; but he has put it out of his power to oblige me; Icannot accept his bounty. Though your heart, my dearest Pembroke, isabove all price, yet I will make it a sacrifice to your duty. " And byso doing put the last seal on my misfortunes, was the meaning of theheavy sigh which accompanied his last words. 

Pembroke traversed the room in an agony. "Merciful Providence!" criedhe, wringing his clasped hands, "direct me! Oh, Thaddeus, if youcould read my tortured heart, you would pity me; you would see thatthis affair is tearing my soul from my body. What am I to do? Icannot, I will not, part with you forever. "

Thaddeus, with a calm sadness, drew him to a seat. "Be satisfied, "said he, "that I am convinced of your affection. Whatever may happen, this assurance will be sufficient to give me comfort; therefore, bythat affection, I entreat you, dear Pembroke, not to bring regret tome, and reproach on yourself, by disobeying in any way the will ofyour father in this matter! If we separate for life, remember, mybeloved friend, that the span of our existence here is short; weshall meet again in a happier world--perhaps more blest, for havingimmolated our wishes to hard duty in this. "

"Cease, Sobieski, cease!" cried Pembroke; "I can draw no consolationfrom this reasoning. It is not duty to obey a hatred little short ofdistraction; and if we now separate, I feel that I never shall knowpeace again. Good Heaven! what comfort can I find when you areexposed to all the indignities which the world levels against theunfortunate? Can I indulge in the luxuries of my father's house whenI know that you have neither a home nor subsistence? No, Thaddeus, Iam not such a villain. I will not give you up, though my fathershould load me with curses. I trust there is a just Power above whowould avert them. "

Perceiving that argument would not only be fruitless, but mightprobably incense his friend's irritated nature to the commission ofsome rash action, Thaddeus pretended to overlook the frantic gestureand voice which terminated this speech, and assuming a serene air, replied: "Let this be the subject of a future conversation. Atpresent, I must conjure you, by the happiness of us both, to returnto the Castle. You know my message to Sir Robert. Present my respectsto your aunt; and, " added he, after an agitated pause, "assure MissBeaufort that whilst I have life, her goodness, her sometimesremembrance, will be--"

Pembroke interrupted him. "Why these messages, dear Thaddeus? Do notsuppose, though I fulfil my father's orders to return to Somerset to-night, that it is our separation. Gracious Heaven! Is it so easy topart forever?"

"Not forever! Oh, no, " replied Thaddeus, grasping his hand; "we shallsee each other again; only, meanwhile, repeat those, alas! inadequatemessages to your aunt and cousin. Go, my dear Pembroke, to yourfather; and may the Lord of Heaven bless you!"

The last words were spoken in almost a stifled voice, as he openedhis arms and strained his friend to his breast. 

"I shall see you to-morrow, " cried Pembroke; "on no other conditionwill I leave you now. "

Thaddeus made no further answer to this demand (which he determinedshould never be granted) than a second embrace. Pembroke went out ofthe room to order his horse; then, returning, he stood at the door, and holding out his hand to the count, repeated, "Farewell till to-morrow. " Thaddeus pressed it warmly, and he disappeared. 

The outward gate closed after his friend, but Sobieski remained onthe seat into which he had thrown himself. He did not venture tomove, lest he should by chance catch a second glance of Pembroke fromthe window. Now that he was gone, he acknowledged the full worth ofwhat he had relinquished. He had resigned a man who loved him; onewho had known and revered his ever-lamented grandfather, and hismother--the only one with whom he could have discoursed of theirvirtues! He had severed the link which had united his present statewith his former fortunes! and throwing his arms along a table thatstood near him, he leaned his aching head upon them, and in ideafollowed with a bleeding heart the progress and reception of hisfriend at the Castle. 

The racking misery which tortured the mind of Mr. Somerset was notborne with equal resignation. Conscious of his having inflicted freshwounds on the breast of his truest friend, his spirits were so illadapted to any conversation, that he was pleased rather thandisappointed when he found the supper-room at the Castle quitevacant, and only one cover on the table awaiting his arrival. 

He asked a few questions of the servants, who informed him that itwas past twelve o'clock, and that Sir Robert, who had become worse, had retired to bed early in the evening. 

"And where are my aunt and cousin?" demanded Pembroke. 

One of the men replied that, in consequence of Miss Beaufort havingbeen taken suddenly indisposed, both the ladies left the saloonbefore eleven. Pembroke readily guessed the cause of her disorder; hetoo truly ascribed it to Mary's anxiety respecting the receptionwhich the noble Sobieski would give to his disgraceful proposition. Sighing bitterly, he said no more but went to his chamber. 

The restless state of his mind awoke Mr. Somerset by times. Anxiousfor the success of an application which he intended to make to hisbeloved cousin, whose pure and virgin heart he believed did indeedhere sympathize with his own, he traversed the terrace for an hourbefore he was summoned to breakfast. The baronet continuing too illto leave his room, the ladies only were in the parlor when heentered. Miss Dorothy, who had learned the particulars of the lateevents from her niece, longed to ask Pembroke how his noble friendwould act on her brother's so strange and lamentable conduct--conductso unlike himself in any other circumstance of gratitude in his life. But every time she moved her lips to inquire, her nephew's inflamedeyes and wan countenance made her fear to venture on the subject. Mary sat in mute dejection, watching the agitation of his features;and when he rose to quit the room, still in silence, she lookedwistfully towards him. Pembroke turned at the same moment, andholding out his hand to her, said, "Come, Mary: I want to saysomething to you. Will you walk with me on the terrace?"

With a beating heart Miss Beaufort took his arm, and proceededwithout a word until they ascended the stone steps and reached theterrace. A mutual deep-drawn sigh was the first opening to aconversation on which the souls of both hung. Pembroke was the firstwho spoke. 

"My dear Mary, " cried he, "you are now my sole dependence. From whatI told you yesterday of my father's inflexibility, we can have nohope of his relenting: indeed, after what has passed, I could notflatter myself that Thaddeus Sobieski would now submit to anyobligation at his hands. Already he has refused, with all theindignation I expected, Sir Robert's offer of an annuity. My dearcousin, how can I exist and yet witness this my best friend indistress, and living without the succor of my friendship? Heavenknows, this cannot be the case, for I would sooner perish thanventure to insult the man my father has treated so ill with anypecuniary offers from me! Therefore, dear girl, it is on you alonethat I depend. With his whole soul, as our marriage service says, Thaddeus 'worships you;' you love him! In a few days you will becomeof age. You will be your own mistress. Marry him, my beloved cousin, "cried Pembroke, pressing her hand to his lips, "and relieve my heartfrom a load of misery! Be generous, my sweet Mary, " added he, supporting her now trembling frame against his breast; "act up toyour noble nature, and offer him, by me, that hand which hiscalamities and disinterestedness preclude him from wooing himself. "

Miss Beaufort, hardly able to articulate, replied, "I would give himall that I possess could it purchase him one tranquil hour. I wouldserve him forever could I do it and be unknown? but--"

"O, do not hesitate!--do not doubt!" interrupted Pembroke. "To serveyour friends, I know you are capable of the most extraordinaryexertions. I know there is nothing within the range of possibilitythat your generous disposition would not attempt; then, my belovedMary, dare to be what you are, by having the magnanimity to act asyou know you ought--by offering your hand to him. Show the nobleSobieski that you really deserve the devotion of a hero's heart--deserves to be his consolation, who, in losing his mother, lost anangel like yourself. "

"Dear Pembroke, " replied Miss Beaufort, wiping the gliding tears fromher burning cheek, "after the confession which you drew from meyesterday, I will not deny that to be this to your friend wouldrender me the happiest of created beings; but I cannot believe whatyour sanguine affection tells me. I cannot suppose, situated as I wasat Lady Dundas's, surrounded by frivolous and contemptible society, that he could discover anything in me to warrant such a vanity. Everyway embarrassed as I was, disliking my companions, afraid of my owninterest in him, a veil was drawn over my mind, through which hecould neither judge of my good nor bad qualities. How, then, can Iflatter myself, or do the Count Sobieski so great an injury, as toimagine that he could conceive any preference for so insignificant abeing as I must have appeared?"

It was some time before Pembroke could shake this prepossession of asincere humility from Miss Beaufort's mind. But after having set inevery possible light the terms with which his friend had spoken ofher, he at length convinced her of what her heart so earnestly wishedto believe--that the love of Sobieski was indeed hers. 

Mr. Somerset's next achievement was to overcome her scruples againstsanctioning him with the commission he was bent on communicating toThaddeus. But from the continual recurrence of her apprehensions, that the warm affection of her cousin had too highly colored thefirst part of his representation, this latter task was not more easyto accomplish than the former. 

In vain she remonstrated, in vain she doubted, in vain demurred. Pembroke would not be denied. He saw her heart was with him; and whenwith faltering lips she assented to the permission, which he almostextorted, she threw her arms round his neck, and implored him, "byall he loved and honored, to be careful of her peace; to rememberthat she put into his charge all that was most precious to woman--themodesty of her sex and her own self-esteem !"

Delighted at this consent, notwithstanding he received it through themedium of many tears, he fondly and gratefully pressed her to hisbosom, uttering his own soul's fervent conviction of a futuredomestic happiness to them all. Having stood till he saw her re-enterthe house from a door on the terrace, he mounted his horse and setoff on the spur towards Harrow by Hill. 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

LETTERS OF FAREWELL. 

When Thaddeus recovered from the reverie into which he fell on thedeparture of Mr. Somerset, he considered how he might remove out of acountry in which he had only met with and occasioned distress. 

The horrid price that Pembroke's father had set on the continuance ofhis son's friendship with a powerless exile was his curse. Whatevermight have been the injury any individual of now annihilated Polandcould, in its palmy days of independence, and sometimes pride, inflict on this implacable Englishman, of a nature that appeared tohave blinded him to even human feeling, Thaddeus felt so true anindignation against such cruel injustice, and so much of a contrarysentiment towards the noble son of this hard parent, that hedetermined to at once relieve the warring mind of Pembroke of anyfurther conflict on his account by immediately quitting England. Averse to a second interview with a friend so justly beloved, whichcould only produce them new pangs, he resolved on instantpreparations--that another morn should not rise upon him in theneighborhood of Somerset Castle. Taking up a pen, with all therenewed loneliness of his fate brooding on his heart, he wrote twoletters. 

One he addressed to Mr. Somerset, bidding him that farewell which heconfessed he could never take. As he wrote, his hand trembled, hisbosom swelled, and he hastily shut his eyelids, to withhold his tearsfrom showing themselves on the paper. His emotion, his grief, weredriven back, were concealed, but the tenderness of his soul flowedover the letter. He forgave Pembroke's father for Pembroke's sake;and in spite of their personal disunion, he vowed that no earthlypower should restrain his love from following the steps of hisfriend, even into the regions of eternity. He closed his melancholyepistle with informing Mr. Somerset that, as he should quit not onlyEngland directly, but Europe, any search after him which his generousnature might dictate would be in vain. 

Though Thaddeus Sobieski would have disdained a life of dependence onthe greatest potentate of the world; though he rejected with the samesincerity a similar proposal from his friend, and despised thedegrading offer of Sir Robert, yet he did not disparage his dignity, not infringe on the disinterested nature of friendship, when heretained the money which Pembroke had conveyed to him in prison. Thaddeus never acted but from principle. His honorable andpenetrating mind knew exactly at what point to draw the tender threadof delicacy--the cord of independence. But pride and independencewere with him distinct terms. Receiving assistance from a friend andleaning on him wholly for support have different meanings. Heaccepted the first with gratitude; he would have thought itimpossible to live and endure the last. Indeed Thaddeus would haveconsidered himself unworthy to confer a benefit if he had not knownhow to receive one. But had not Pembroke told him "the whole gift wasMary Beaufort's?" And what were his emotions then? They were full ofan ineffable sense of happiness inexplicable to himself. MaryBeaufort was the donor, and it was bliss to have it so, and to knowit was so. With these impressions again throbbing at his heart, hebegan a short letter to her, which he felt must crush that heartforever. 

"To Miss Beaufort. 

"My faculties lose their power when I take up my pen to address, forthe first and the last time, Miss Beaufort. I hardly know what Iwould say--what I ought to say; I dare not venture to write all thatI feel. But have you not been my benefactress? Did you not assert mycharacter and give me liberty when I was calumniated and in distress?Did you not ward from me the scorn of unpitying folly? Did you notconsole me with your own compassion? You have done all this; andsurely you will not despise the gratitude of a heart which you havecondescended to sooth and to comfort. At least I cannot leave Englandforever without imploring blessings on the head of Miss Beaufort, without thanking her on my knees, on which I am writing, for thatgracious and benign spirit which discovered a breaking heart underthe mask of serenity, which penetrated through the garb of povertyand dependence, and saw that the condemned Constantine was not whathe seemed! Your smiles, Miss Beaufort, your voice speakingcommiseration, were my sweetest consolations during those heavymonths of bitterness which I endured at Dundas House. I contemplatedyou as a pitying angel, sent to reconcile me to a life which hadalready become a burden. These are the benefits which Miss Beauforthas bestowed on a friendless exile; these are the benefits which shehas bestowed on me! and they are written on my soul. Not until I godown into the grave can they be forgotten. Ah! not even then, forwhen I rise again, I shall find them still registered there. 

"Farewell, most respected, most dear, most honored! My passing soulseems in those words. O, may the Father of heaven bless with hisalmighty care her whose name will ever be the first and the last inthe prayer of the far distant

 "THADDEUS CONSTANTINE SOBIESKI. 

 "HARROWBY VILLAGE, MIDNIGHT. "

When he had finished this epistle, with a tremulous hand he consignedit to the same cover that contained his letter to Somerset. Thenwriting a few lines to the worthy master of the inn, (the brother-in-law of the faithful servant of his late lamented maternal friend, )saying that a sudden occasion had required his immediate departure atthat untimely hour, he enclosed a liberal compensation in gold forthe attentive services of both the honest man and his warm-heartedwife. Having sealed each packet, he disposed them so on the tablethat they might be the first things seen on entering the room. 

He had fixed on deep night as the securest time for commencingunobserved his pedestrian tour. The moon was now full, and would be asufficient guide, he thought, on his solitary way. He had determinedto walk to London by the least public paths; meaning to see kind Mrs. Robson, and bid her a grateful farewell before he should embark, probably never to return, for America. 

He had prepared his slender baggage before he sat down to write thetwo letters which had cost him so many pangs; compressed within alight black leather travelling-bag, he fastened it over his shouldersby its buckled straps, in the manner of a soldier's knapsack. He thenput the memorandum-book which contained his "world's wealth, " now tobe carefully husbanded, into a concealed pocket in the breast of hiswaistcoat, feeling, while he pressed it down upon his heart, that hismother's locket and Miss Beaufort's chain kept guard over it. 

"Ah!" cried he, as he gently closed the low window by which he leapedinto the garden; "England, I leave thee forever, and within thee allthat on this earth had been left to me to love. Driven from thee!Nay, driven as if I were another Cain, from the face of every spot ofearth that ever had been or would be dear to me! Oh, woe to them whobegan the course. And thou, Austria, ungrateful leader in thedestruction of the country which more than once was thy preserver!--could there be any marvel that the last of the Sobieskis shouldperish with her? What accumulated sins must rest on thy head, thouseducer of other nations into the spoliation and dismemberment of thelong-proved bulwark of Christendom? Assuredly, every hasty sigh thatrebels in the breasts of Poland's outcast sons against the mystery ofher doom will plead against thee at the judgment-seat of Heaven!"

He went on at a rapid pace through several fields, his heart and soulfull of those remembrances, and the direful echoes to them he had metin England. Stopping a moment at the boundary-gate of the Harrowbydomains, --the property of a disgraceful owner of a name that mighthave been his, had not his nobler mother preserved to him that ofSobieski, --he stretched out his arms to the heavens, over which ableak north-west wind was suddenly collecting dark and spreadingclouds, and exclaimed, in earnest supplication, "Oh, righteous Powerof Mercy! in thy chastening, grant me fortitude to bear withresignation to thy will the miseries I may yet have to encounter, Ah!" added he, his heart melting as the images presented themselveseven as visions to his soul, "teach me to forget what I have been. Teach me to forget that on this dreadful October night twelve monthsago I clasped the dying body of my revered grandfather in thesearms!"

He could not speak further. Leaning his pale face against the gate, he remained for a few minutes dissolved in all a son's sorrow; then, recovering himself by a sudden start, he proceeded with hurried stepsthrough the further extending meadows until they conducted him by ashort village-lane into the high road. 

It was on the 10th of October, 1795, that the Count Sobieskicommenced this lonely and melancholy journey. It was the 10th ofOctober in the preceding year that he found the veteran palatinebleeding to death in the midst of a heap of slain. The coincidence ofhis renewed banishment and present consequent mental sufferings withthose of that fatal period powerfully affected him, recalling, in thevivid colors of an actual existence, scenes and griefs which thenumerous successive events he had passed through had considerablytoned down into dream-like shades. 

But now, when memory, by one unexpected stroke, had once conjured upthe happy past of his early life and its as early blighting, true toher nature, she raised before his mind's eye every hope connectedwith it and his present doom, till, almost distracted, he quickenedhis speed. He then slackened it; he quickened it again; but nothingcould rid him of those successive images which seem to glide aroundhim like mournful apparitions of the long-lamented dead. 

When the dawn broke and the sun rose, he found himself advancedseveral miles on the south side of Ponton Hill. The spiry aisles ofHarrowby Abbey were discernible through the mist, and the towers ofSomerset Castle, from their height and situation, were as distinctlyseen as if he had been at their base. Neither of these objects werecalculated to raise the spirits of Thaddeus. The sorrows of thecountess, whose eyes he so recently had closed, and the treatmentwhich he afterwards received from the man to whom he owed his life, were recollections which made him turn from the Abbey with a renewedpang and fix his eyes on Somerset. He looked towards its iviedbattlements with all the regret and all the tenderness which canoverflow a human heart. Under that roof he believed the eyes of hisalmost, indeed, worshipped Mary were sealed in sleep; and in aninstant his agitated soul addressed her as if she had been present. 

"Farewell, most lovely, most beloved! The conviction that it is toensure the peace of my now only friend on earth, my faithfulPembroke, that I resign the hope of ever beholding thee again in thislife, will bring me one comfort, at least, in my barren exile!"

Thus communing with his troubled spirit, he walked the whole day onhis way to London. Totally absorbed in meditation, he did not remarkthe gaze of curiosity which followed his elegant yet distressedfigure as he passed through the different towns and villages. Musingon the past, the present, and the future, he neither felt hunger northirst, but, with a fixed eye and abstracted countenance, pursued hisroute until night and weariness overtook him near a cross-road, faraway from any house. 

Thaddeus looked around and above. The sky was then clear andglittering with stars; the moon, shining on a branch of the Ousewhich divides Leicestershire from Northamptonshire, lit the greenheath which skirted its banks. He wished not for a more magnificentcanopy; and placing his bag under his head, he laid himself downbeneath a hillock of furze, and slept till morning. 

When he awoke from a heavy sleep, which fatigue and fasting hadrendered more oppressive than refreshing, he found that the splendorsof the night were succeeded by a heavy rain, and that he was wetthrough. He arose with stiffness in his limbs, pain in his head, anda dimness over his eyes, with a sense of weakness which almostdisabled him from moving. He readily judged that he had caught cold;and every moment feeling himself grow worse, he thought it necessaryto seek some house where he might procure rest and assistance. 

Leaning on his closed umbrella, which, in his precariouscircumstances of travelling, he used in preference to a walking-stick, and no longer able to encumber himself with even the lightload of his bag, he cast it amongst the brambles near him. Thinking, from the symptoms he felt, that he might not have many more hours toendure the ills of life, he staggered a few yards further. Nohabitation appeared; his eyes soon seemed totally obscured, and hesunk down on a bank. For a minute he attempted to struggle with thecold grasp of death, which he believed was fastening on his heart. 

"And are my days to be so short?--are they to end thus?" was thevoice of his thoughts, --for he was speechless. "Oh! thou mercifulProvidence, pardon my repining, and those who have brought me tothis! My only Father, hear me!"

These were the last movements of his soundless lips, while his bloodseemed freezing to insensibility. His eyelids were closed, and pale, and without sign of animation, he lay at the foot of a tree nighwhich he had dropped. 

He remained a quarter of an hour in this dead-like state before hewas observed; at length, a gentleman who was passing along that road, on his way to his country-seat in the neighborhood, thought heperceived a man lying amongst the high grass a little onward on theheath. He stopped his carriage instantly, though driven by fourspirited horses, and ordering one of the outriders to alight, badehim examine whether the object in view were living or dead. 

The servant obeyed; and presently returning with an affrightedcountenance, he informed his master that "it was the body of a youngman, who, by his dress, appeared to be a gentleman; and being quitesenseless, he supposed he had been waylaid and murdered by footpads. "The features of the benevolent inquirer immediately reflected thealarm of his informant. Ordering the chariot door to be opened, hetook in his hand a bottle of medicine, (which, from his own invalidstates was his carriage companion, ) and, stepping out, hastened tothe side of the apparently lifeless Thaddeus. 

By this time all the servants were collected round the spot. Themaster himself, whilst he gazed with pity on the marble features ofthe stranger, observed with pleasure that he saw no marks ofviolence. Supposing that the present accident might have beenoccasioned by a fit, and thinking it possible to recall life, hedesired that the unfortunate person's neck-cloth might be unloosened, and removing his hat, he contrived to pour some drops into his mouth. Their warmth renewed pulsation to the heart, for one of the men, whowas stooping, declared that it beat under his hand. When thebenevolent gentleman was satisfied of the truth of this report, hebade his servants place the poor traveller in his carriage; havingonly another mile or two to go, he said he hoped his charge might berestored at the end of so short a drive. 

Whilst the postilions drove rapidly towards the house, the cold faceof Thaddeus rested on the bosom of his benefactor, who continued tochafe his temples with eau de Cologne until the chariot stoppedbefore the gates. The men carried the count into the house, andleaving him with their master and a medical man, who resided near, other restoratives were applied which in a short time restored him toconsciousness. When he was recalled to recollection, and able todistinguish objects, he saw that he was supported by two gentlemen, and in a spacious chamber. 

Gratitude was an active virtue in the soul of Thaddeus. At the momentof his awakening from that sleep which, when it fell upon him, hebelieved would last until time should be lost in eternity, he pressedthe hands of those who held his own, not doubting but that they werethe good Samaritans who had preserved him from perishing. 

The younger of the gentlemen, perceiving, by the animated lustrewhich spread over his patient's eyes, that he was going to speak, puthis hand on his lips, and said, "Pardon me, sir! you must be mute!Your life at present hangs on a thread; the slightest exertion mightsnap it. As all you want is rest and resuscitation to supply somegreat loss which the vital powers have sustained, I must require thatyou neither speak nor be spoken to until I give permission. Meanwhile, be satisfied, sir, that you are in the kindest hands. Thisgentleman, " added he, (pointing to his friend, who bore the noblepresence of high rank, ) "saw you on the heath, and brought you to hishouse, where you now are. "

Thaddeus bowed his head to them both in sign of obedience andgratitude, and the elder, with a kind bend of his mild eyes, insilence left the room. 

CHAPTER XLV. 

DEERHURST. 

Next morning, when the seal was taken off the lips of the object oftheir care, he expressed in grateful terms his deep sense of thehumanity which had actuated both the gentleman to take so generous aninterest in his fate. 

"You owe no thanks to me, " replied the one who had enjoined andreleased him from silence, and who was now alone with him; "I am onlythe agent of another. Yet I do not deny that, in obeying thebenevolent orders of Sir Robert Somerset, I have frequentopportunities of gratifying my own heart. "

Thaddeus was so confounded at this discovery that he could not speak, and the gentleman proceeded. 

"I am apothecary to Sir Robert's household, and as my excellentemployer has been long afflicted with an ill state of health, I livein a small Lodge at the other end of the park. He is the boast of thecounty: the best landlord and the kindest neighbor. All ranks ofpeople love him; and when he dies, (which his late apoplectic fitsmake it too probable may be soon, ) both poor and rich will lose theirfriend. Ill as he was this morning, when I told him you were out ofdanger, he expressed a pleasure which did him more good than all mymedicines. "

Not considering the wildness of the question, Thaddeus hastilydemanded, "Does he know who I am?"

The honest apothecary stared at the look and tone with which thesewords were delivered, and then replied, "No, sir; is there any reasonto make you wish that he should not?"

"Certainly none, " replied Thaddeus, recollecting himself; "but Ishall be impatient until I have an opportunity of telling him howgrateful I am for the goodness he has shown to me as a stranger. "

Surprised at these hints, (which the count, not considering theirtendency, allowed to escape him, ) the apothecary gathered sufficientfrom them, united with the speaker's superior mien, to make himsuppose that his patient was some emigrant of quality, whom SirRobert would rejoice in having served. These surmises and conclusionshaving passed quickly through the worthy gentleman's brain, he bowedhis head with that respect which the generous mind is proud to pay tonobility in ruins, and resumed:

"Whoever you may be, sir, a peasant or a prince, you will meet withBritish hospitality from the noble owner of this mansion. Themagnificence of his spirit is equalled by the goodness of his heart;and I am certain that Sir Robert will consider as fortunate thesevere attack which, bringing him from Somerset for change of air, has afforded him an opportunity of serving you. "

Thaddeus blushed at the strain of this speech. Readily understandingwhat was passing in the mind of the apothecary, he hardly knew whatto reply. He paused for a moment, and then said, "All you havedeclared, sir, in praise of Sir Robert Somerset I cannot doubt isdeserving. I have already felt the effects of his humanity, and shallever remember that my life was prolonged by his means; but I have nopretensions to the honor of his acquaintance. I only wish to see him, that I may thank him for what he has done; therefore, if you willpermit me to rise this evening, instead of to-morrow morning, youwill oblige me. "

To this request the apothecary gave a respectful yet firm denial, andwent down stairs to communicate his observations to his patron. Whenhe returned, he brought back a request for his patient from thebaronet, even as a personal consideration for his host's solicitudeconcerning him, to remain quietly in the perfect repose of his closedchamber until next day; then it might be hoped Sir Robert would findhim sufficiently recovered to receive his visit without risk. To thisSobieski could not but assent, in common courtesy, as well as ingrateful feeling; yet he passed in anything but repose the rest ofthe day, and the anxiety which continued to agitate him whilereflecting that he was receiving these obligations from hisimplacable enemy so occupied and disturbed him, that he spent asleepless night. The dawn found his fever much augmented; but nocorporeal sufferings could persuade him to defer seeing the baronetand immediately leaving his house. Believing, as he did, that allthis kindness would have been withheld had his host known on whom hewas pouring such benefits, he thought that every minute which passedover him while under Sir Robert's roof inflicted a new outrage on hisown respect and honor. 

To this end, then, as soon as Mr. Middleton, the apothecary, retiredto breakfast, Thaddeus rose from his bed, and was completely dressedbefore he returned. He had effected this without any assistance, forhe was in possession of his travelling-bag. One of the outridershaving discerned it amongst the herbage, while the others were busiedin carrying its helpless owner to the carriage, he had picked it up, and on the arrival of the party at home, delivered it to thebaronet's valet to convey to the invalid gentleman's chamber, justlyconsidering that he would require its contents. 

When Mr. Middleton re-entered the apartment, and saw his patient notonly risen from his bed, but so completely dressed, he expostulatedon the rashness of what he had done, and augured no less than adangerous relapse from the present increased state of his pulse. Thaddeus, for once in his life, was obstinate, though civilly so; anddesiring a servant to request that Sir Robert would indulge him withan audience for a few minutes alone in his library, he soon convincedMr. Middleton that his purpose was not to be shaken. 

The baronet returning his compliments, and saying that he should behappy to see his guest, the still anxious apothecary offered him hisassistance down stairs. Thaddeus needed no help, and gratefullydeclined it. The exertion necessary to be summoned for this interviewimparted as much momentary strength to his frame as to his mind, andthough his color was heightened, he entered the library with a firmstep. 

Sir Robert met him at the door, and, shaking him by the hand with awarm assurance of pleasure at so rapid a restoration, would have ledhim to a seat; but Thaddeus only supported himself against the backof it with his hand, whilst in a steady voice he expressed the mostearnest thanks for the benefits he had received; then pausing, andcasting the proud lustre of his eyes to the ground, lest theirlanguage should tell all that he thought, he continued, "I have onlyto regret, Sir Robert, that your benevolence has been lavished on aman whom you regard with abhorrence. I am the Count Sobieski, thatPolander whom you commanded your son to see no more. Respecting eventhe prejudices of my friend's parent, I was hastening to London, meaning to set sail for America with the first ship, when I swoonedon the road. I believe I was expiring. Your humanity saved me; and Inow owe to gratitude, as well as to my own satisfaction, thefulfilment of my determination. I shall leave Deerhurst immediately, and England as soon as I am able to embark. "

Thaddeus with a second bow, and not quite so firm a step, withoutventuring a glance at what he supposed must be the abashed or theenraged looks of Pembroke's father, was preparing to quit the room, when Sir Robert, with a pale and ghastly countenance, exclaimed, "Stop!"

Thaddeus looked round, and struck by the change in his preserver'sappearance, paused in his movement. The baronet, incapable of sayingmore, pointed to a chair for him to sit down; then sinking intoanother himself, took out his handkerchief, and wiping away the largedrops which stood on his forehead, panted for respiration. At last, with a desperate kind of haste, he said. 

"Was your mother indeed Therese Sobieski?"

Thaddeus, still more astonished, replied in the affirmative. SirRobert threw himself back on the chair with a deep groan. Hardlyknowing what he did, the count rose from his seat and advancedtowards him. On his approach, Sir Robert stretched out his hand, and, with a look and tone of agony, said, "Who was your father?" He then, without waiting for a reply, covered his convulsed features with hishandkerchief. The baronet's agitation, which now shook him like anearthquake, became contagious. Thaddeus gazed at him with a palsyinguncertainty in his heart; laying his hand on his bewildered brain, heanswered, "I know not; yet I fear I must believe him to be the Earlof Tinemouth. But here is his picture. " With an almost disablingtremor he unclasped it from his neck where his mother's last blessinghad placed it, and touching the spring which held it in its littlegold case in the manner of a watch, he gave it open to Sir Robert, who had started from his seat at the name of the earl. The moment thebaronet's eyes rested on the miniature, he fell senseless upon thechair. 

Thaddeus, hardly more alive, sprinkled some water on his face, andwith throbbing temples and a bleeding heart stood in wordlessexpectation over him. Such excessive emotion told him that somethingmore than Sir Robert's hatred of the Polanders had stimulated hislate conduct. Too earnest for an explanation to ring for assistance, he rejoiced to see, by the convulsion of the baronet's features andthe heaving of his chest, that animation was returning. In a fewminutes he opened his eyes, but when he met the anxious gaze ofThaddeus, he closed them as suddenly. Rising from his seat, hestaggered against the chimney-piece, exclaiming, "Oh God, direct me!"Thaddeus, whose conjectures were now wrought almost to wildness, followed him, and whilst his exhausted frame was ready to sink to theearth, he implored him to speak. 

"Sir Robert, " cried he, "if you know anything of my family, if youknow anything of my father, I beseech you to answer me. Or only tellme: am I so wretched as to be the son of Lord Tinemouth?"

The violence of the count's emotions during this agonizing addresstotally overcame him; before he finished speaking, his limbs withdrewtheir support, and he dropped breathless against the side of thechair. 

Sir Robert turned hastily round. He saw him sunk, like a beautifulflower, bruised and trampled on by the foot of him who had given itroot. Unable to make any evasive reply to this last appeal of virtueand of nature, he threw himself with a burst of tears upon his neck, and exclaimed, "Wretch that I have been! Oh, Sobieski! I am thyfather. Dear, injured son of the too faithful Therese!"

The first words which carried this avowal to the heart of Thaddeusdeprived it of motion, and when Sir Robert expected to receive thereturning embrace of his son, he found him senseless in his arms. 

The cries of the baronet brought Mr. Middleton and the servants intothe room. When the former saw the state of the count, and perceivedthe agonized position of his patron, (who was supporting and leaningover his son, ) the honest man declared that he expected nothing lessfrom the gentleman's disobedience of his orders. The presence of theservants having recalled Sir Robert's wandering faculties, he desiredthem to remove the invalid with the greatest care back to hischamber. Following them in silence, when they had laid their chargeon the bed, he watched in extreme but concealed suspense till Mr. Middleton once more succeeded in restoring animation to his patient. 

The moment the count unclosed his eyes, they fixed themselves on hisfather. He drew the hand which held his to his lips. The tears ofpaternal love again bathed the cheeks of Sir Robert; he felt how warmat his heart was the affection of his deserted son. Making a sign forMr. Middleton to leave the room, who obeyed, he bent his streamingeyes upon the other hand of Thaddeus, and, in a faltering voice, "Canyou pardon me?"

Thaddeus threw himself on his father's bosom, and wept profusely;then raising Sir Robert's clasped hands to his, whilst his eloquenteyes seemed to search the heavens, he said, "My dear, dear motherloved you to her latest hour; and I have all my mother's heart. Whatever may have been his errors, I love and honor my father. "

Sir Robert strained him to his breast. After a pause, whilst he shookthe tears from his venerated cheeks, he resumed--"Certain, my dearson, that you require repose, and assured that you will not find ituntil I have offered some apology for my unnatural conduct, I willnow explain the circumstances which impelled my actions, and drewdistress upon that noble being, your mother. "

Sir Robert hesitated a moment to recover breath, and then, with theverity of a grateful penitence, commenced. 

"Keep your situation, " added he, putting down Thaddeus, who at thisopening was raising himself, "I shall tell my melancholy story withless pain if your eyes be not upon me. I will begin from the first. "

The baronet, with frequent agitated pauses, proceeded to relate whatmay be more succinctly expressed as follows: Very early in life hehad attached himself to Miss Edith Beaufort, the only sister of thelate Admiral Beaufort, who at that time was pursuing his chosen bravecareer as post-captain in the British navy. By the successive deathsof their parents, they had been left young to the guardianship of SirFulke Somerset and their maternal aunt, his then accomplished lady:she and their deceased mother, the Lady Grace Beaufort, having beensisters--the two celebrated beautiful daughters of Robert EarlStudeley of Warwick. 

Sir Fulke's family by the amiable twin of the Lady Grace were Robert(who afterwards succeeded him) and Dorothy his only daughter. But hehad a son by a former marriage with the brilliantly-endowed widow ofa long-resident governor in the East, who having died on his voyagehome to England, on her landing she found herself the sole inheritrixof his immense wealth. She possessed charms of person as well asriches, and as soon as "her weeds" could be laid aside, she becamethe admired wife of the "gay and gallant" Sir Fulke Somerset. Withinthe twelve subsequent months she presented him with a son and heir, soon to be her own too; for though she lived three or four yearsafter his birth, her health became so delicate that she never boreanother child, but gradually declined, and ultimately expired whileapparently in a gentle sleep. 

Sir Fulke mourned his due time "in the customary suit of solemnblack;" but he was a man of a lofty and social spirit, by no meansinclined to be disconsolate, and held "a fair help-mate" to be anindispensable appendage to his domestic state. In this temper, (justbefore the election of a new parliament, when contending interestswere running very close, ) he obtained the not less eagerly disputedhand of Lady Arabella Studeley, whose elder sister (as has beenmentioned) had made a magnificent marriage, only a year or twobefore, with John of Beaufort, the lord of the noble domain ofBeaufort in the Weald of Kent--a lineal endowment from his princelyancestor, John of Gaunt. This illustrious pair dwelt on the land, like its munificent owners in the olden times, revered and beloved;and they were the parents of their two equally-honored representatives--Guy, afterwards Admiral Beaufort, and Edith, who subsequently becamethe adored wife of her also tenderly-beloved cousin, Robert Somerset. 

But before that fondly-anticipated event took place, the young loverhad to pass through a path of thorns, some of which pierced him tothe end. From his childhood to manhood, he saw little of Algernon, his elder brother, who always seemed to him more like an occasionalbrilliant phantom, alighting amongst them, than a dear member of thefamily coming delightedly to cheer and to share his paternal home. Algernon was either at Eaton school, or at one of the universities, or travelling somewhere on the continent; and at all these places, orfrom them all, he became the enchanted theme of every tongue. Meanwhile, Robert--though, perhaps, equally endowed by nature yetcertainly of a milder radiance--was the object of so apprehensive asolicitude in his gentle mother's breast for the puritas well as theintellectual accomplishments of her son, that she obtained SirFulke's reluctant consent to his being brought up in what is called"a home education;" that is, under the especial personal care of thebest private tutors, and which were found to the great credit of herjudgment. He showed an ardent devotedness to his studies; and though, like his mother, he was one of the mildest of human beings in hisdealings with those around him, yet his aspirations towards highattainments were as energetic as they were noiseless, and ever onsteady wind soaring upward. Robert Somerset was then unconsciouslyforming himself for what he afterwards became--the boast of thecountry of his birth, the glory of England, to whose prosperity hededicated all his noble talents, showing what it is to be a trueEnglish country gentleman. Being alike "the oak or laurel" of "OldEngland's fields and groves. "

 "With sickle or with sword, Or bardic minstrelsy!"

he was permitted to pass a term or two at Oxford, where he acquittedhimself with honor, particularly in the classics, to the repeatedadmiration of their then celebrated professor, the late ThomasWarton. But the young student was also fond of rural pursuits anddomestic occupations. He lived mostly at home, enjoying the gentlesolace of elegant modern literature and the graces of music, with theever blameless delights of an accomplished female society, at thehead of which his revered mother had presided, accompanied by hislively sister Dorothy and the sweet Edith Beaufort, whom he hadgradually learned to love like his own soul. His heart became yetmore closely knit to her when his beloved parent died, which sadevent occurred about a year after the death of Edith's own mother, who on her widowhood had continued to live more with her sister, LadyArabella Somerset, than at her bereaved home. Edith's filial sorrowwas renewed in the loss of her maternal aunt, and her tenderestsympathy reciprocated the tears of her son. Their hearts blendedtogether in those tears, and both felt that "they were comforted. "

Time did not long pass on before the happy Robert communicated theirmutual attachment to his father, petitioning for his consent to woofor the hand of her whose heart he had already gained. But thebaronet, in some surprise at what he heard, refused to give hissanction to any such premature engagement, first, on account of theapplicant's "extreme youth;" and second, being a younger scion of hishouse, it might not be deemed well of in the world should he, theguardian of his niece and her splendid fortune, show so much haste tobestow her on his comparatively portionless son. The baronet, withsome of his parliamentary acumen, drew another comparison, whichtouched the disappointed lover with a feeling almost of despair. Hecompared what he denominated his romantic fancies for "woods andwilds, " and book-worm pursuits in the old crypts of the castle or thecollege, with the distinguished consideration held by his travelledbrother in courts and councils, whether abroad or at home, closingthe parallel by telling him "to follow Algernon's example, and becomemore like a man of some account amongst men before he dared pretendto a hand of so much importance as that of the heiress of Beaufort. "

Robert was standing silent and dismayed, as one struck by a thunder-flash, when his brother (who had been only a month arrived from along revisit to the two Sicilies) suddenly entered his father'slibrary, as Sir Fulke had again resumed his discourse with even moreseverity. At sight of the animated object of his contrasting eulogy, he instantly described to his new auditor what had been mutuallysaid, and referred the subject to him. 

"Romance, indeed! whether in merry Sherwood, with hound and horn, orwith gentle dames in bower and hall, you have had enough of, mybrother, " replied the gay-spirited traveller. "Neither men nor womenlike philandering after deer or doe, or a lady's slipper, beyond thegreenwood season. So I say, for the glory of your manhood up andaway! Abroad, abroad! My father is right. That is the only ground forsuch a race and guerdon as you aspire to. I admire your taste, andnot less your ambition, my brave boy. Do not thwart him, Sir Fulke, "added he, to the baronet, who began to frown: "let him enter thelists with the boldest of us; faint heart never won fair lady! So, forward, Robert! and give me another sweet sister to love and tocherish as I do our blithe little Dora. "

At this far from unwelcome advice, Robert smiled and sighed; but thesmile swallowed up the sigh, for his soul kindled with hope. Hisfather smiled also; the cloud of a stern authority had passed fromhis brow, and before that now perfectly reconciled party rose, it wasdecided that Robert should make immediate preparations for commencinga regulated course of continental travels, the route to be drawn outby his brother and his expenses in the tour to be liberally suppliedby his father. The length of the probation was not then thought on, at least not mentioned. Shortly afterwards, when Robert hastened fromthe library to communicate what had passed to the beloved object ofthe discussion, he left his father and his brother together to thinkand to plan all the rest for him. 

But Edith Beaufort wept when she heard of the separation; her heartfailed within her. For since her first coming under the roof of herguardian uncle, she had never been without seeing her brother-likecousin beyond a few days or weeks at most. He was now going to bebanished (and, it was asserted, for her sake too) into far distantcountries, and for an indefinite period--months, perhaps years. Andthese saddening thoughts made her weep afresh, though silently; forher full-flowing tears were soft and noiseless, like the heart fromwhence they sprung. Robert, with all his now sanguine expectations, sought to cheer her, but in vain. She felt an impression, that shouldhe go, they would never meet again. But she did not betray thatfeeling to him; yet the infection of her despondency, by itscontinuance, so wrought on his own consequent depressed spirits, thatwhen his father announced to him that his absence must be for two orthree years at least, he ventured to remonstrate, beseeching that itmight be limited to the shorter term of two years. The baronetderided the proposal, with many words of contempt towards the urgentpleader. Robert withheld from disclosing to the too often hard mindof his father that the proposition he so scorned had originated inthe tender bosom of Edith Beaufort, and Sir Fulke's sarcasm fell sothick on the bending head of his son, that at last the insultedfeelings of the generous lover became so indignant at the littleconfidence placed in the real manliness of his character, which hadhitherto been found ever present when actually called for, that hisheart began to swell to an almost uncontrollable exasperation, andwhile struggling to master himself from uttering the disrespectfulretort risen to his lips, his brother again accidentally entered theroom, and by giving Robert the moment to pause, happily rescued histottering duty from that regretful offence. 

As soon as Algernon appeared, the baronet resumed his sarcastic tone, in a rapid recapitulation of Robert's retrograde request. Algernonagain took up the cause of his brother, and, with his usual tact, gained the victory, by the dexterous gayety with which he pleaded forthe young noviciate in all the matters for which he was to be sent sofar afield to learn. At last the conference ended by Sir Fulkeagreeing to a proposition from his eldest son, --that the time forthis foreign tutelage might possibly expire within the second year, should the results evoked by the ambitious passion of his youngestborn be in any fair progress to fulfilment. 

In little more than a week after this final arrangement, everypreparation was finished for the wildly-contemplated tour. Robert hadtaken a heart-plighting adieu from his beloved Edith. But by hisfather's positive injunction, there was no engagement for a hereafteractual plighting of hands made between them. Yet their eloquent eyes, transparent through their mutual tears, vowed it to each other, andwith silent prayers for his indeed early return, they parted. 

When taking leave of his father, and receiving his directionsrelative to a correspondence with his family, permission wasperemptorily denied him to hold any with his cousin Edith. He hadlearned enough lately to avoid all supplications to the paternalquarter, if he would not invite scorn as well as to receivedisappointment. But Algernon whispered to him "that nobody shouldremain wholly _incognita_ to him in that house while he dippedpen in any one of the three hundred and sixty-five inkhorns under itsawful towers!" Robert then bowed his farewell with a flushed cheekand grave respect to his father, but gratefully separated from hisbrother with a warm pressure of the hand. The old household servantsblessed him as he passed through the hall, and in a few minutes hefound himself seated in the family post-chaise and four that was toconvey him from the home of his youth and happy innocence, and, alas!to return to it "an altered man. "

When he reached Dover to embark, he fell in with the present Earl ofTinemouth, then Mr. Stanhope, sent abroad on a similar errand withhimself. But Stanhope's was to forget a mistress--Somerset's to meritthe one he sought. The two young men were kinsfolk by birth, and theynow felt themselves so in severing from their parents. Stanhope wasin high wrath against his, and he soon rekindled the already excitedmind of Somerset to a responsive demonstration of resentment. Theydetermined to show that "they were not such boys as to submit anyfurther in passive obedience to the stern authority dominating overthem. " Sir Fulke's particular charge against his son was a "womanishsoftness, unworthy his loftier sex!" "Show him, " cried Stanhope, that"you have the hardihood of a true man by an immediate act ofindependence. Let us travel together, kinsmen as we are, change ournames, and let no one in England know anything about us during ourtour except the two dear women on whose accounts we are thustransported!"

With these views they landed in France, gave themselves out to bebrothers (which a certain resemblance in their persons corroborated), and called themselves Sackville. Agreeably amused with the noveltiespresented to them at almost every step of their tour from gay Paristo sentimental Italy, they proceeded pretty amicably until theyreached Naples. There Mr. Stanhope involved himself in an intriguewith the only daughter of an old British officer, who had retired tothat climate for his health. Somerset remonstrated on the villany ofseducing an innocent girl, when he knew his heart and hand werepledged to another. Stanhope, enraged at finding a censor in acompanion whom he had considered to be as headstrong as himself, ended the argument by drawing his sword, and if the servants of thehotel had not interfered, the affray would probably have terminatedwith one of their lives. Since that hour they never met. Mr. Stanhopefled from his shame and his bleeding friend, and, fearful ofconsequences, took temporary refuge in one of the Aonian Isles, notdaring to proceed any further against the innocence of the poorofficer's daughter, who had been thus rescued from becoming hisvictim!

When recovered from his wound, Robert Somerset (by some strangeinfatuation still retaining the name of Sackville) proceeded toFlorence, in which interesting city, for works of art, ancient andmodern, and the graces of classic society, determining to stay sometime, he rather sought than repelled the civilities of theinhabitants. Here he became acquainted with the palatine, and thelovely Countess Therese, his daughter. Her beauty pleased his taste;her gentle virtues and exquisite accomplishments affected both hisheart and mind; and he often gazed on her with tenderness, when hisfidelity to Edith Beaufort only meant him to convey a look ofgrateful admiration. The palatine honored England, and was preparedto esteem her sons wherever he might meet them; and very soon hebecame so attached to this apparently lonely young traveller, that heinvited him to all the excursions he and his daughter made into theadjoining states, whether visiting them by the romantic scenery ofthe land-roads, or coasting the beautiful bays of the sublime shoreson either side of those parts of the Mediterranean. 

In the midst of this intimacy, as if she were aware of a friendshipso hostile to his cousin's love, he suddenly ceased to receive anyremembrance-messages from her to him, in the two last letters fromhis brother, --for he had never allowed himself to so brave hisfather's parting commands as to write to her himself. Desperate withjealousy of some unknown object supplanting him, he was on the pointof setting off for home, to judge with his own eyes, when a largepacket from England was put into his hands. On opening it he found aletter from Edith, on which his surprised and eager gaze hadimmediately fixed. Without looking on any of the rest, he broke theseal, and read, astounded by the contents, "that having for some timebeen led to consider the probable consequences to him, both from hisfather's better judgment and the ultimate opinion of the world, should he and she continue their pertinacious adherence to theirchildish attachment, she had tried to wean both him and herself fromso rebellious a folly towards her revered guardian, his honoredfather; and trusting that the gradual shortening of her cousin-likemessages to him, through his brother's letters, must have had theeffect intended, she now had permission to write one herself to him, to convince him at once of the unreasonableness and danger of allsuch premature entanglements. For, " she added, "soon after hisdeparture, a journey to town had taught her to know her own heart. She learned to feel that it was still at her disposal; and time didnot long pass after she returned to the country before, havingcompared the object of her awakened taste with that of her formerdelusion, she persuaded her own better judgment to set a generousexample to her ever-dear cousin Robert, by marrying where thatjudgment now pointed. And so, with the full consent of Sir Fulke (whoshe well knew had been totally averse to her marriage with hisyoungest son), she had yielded to the long love of his brother, whichhad been struggling in his manly bosom many agonizing months againsthis persistent fidelity to Robert, but whose sister she hoped toshortly become, as his affectionate Edith--then Somerset. "

Having read this extraordinary epistle to the end, so monstrous inthe character of its sentiments and its language, when compared withall he had hitherto known of the pure and simple mind from which itcame, a terrible revulsion seized on his own, and, almost maddenedwith horror at every name in that letter, he foreswore his familyforever! Hastening, as for one drop of heaven's dew upon his burningbrain, to seek Therese Sobieski, he found her alone, and thoughwithout such aim when he rushed so frenzied into her presence, hebesought her "to heal a miserable and broken heart, which could onlybe saved to endure any continuance of life by an acknowledgment thatshe loved him!" Alas! the avowal was too soon wrung from that tenderand noble spirit! and yielding to a paroxysm of a rash and blindingrevenge, he hurried her to a neighboring convent and secretly marriedher. 

This most unrighteous act perpetrated, he in vain soughttranquillity. He was now stung within by a constant sense ofincreasing guilt. Before this act he was the injured party--injuredby those in whom he had confided his dearest earthly happiness; andhe could raise his head in conscious truth, though all his fondesthopes had been wrecked by their falsehood. But now he was thebetrayer of a young and innocent heart, which had implicitly trustedin him. And he had insulted with a base and treacherous ingratitude, by that act of deceit, without excuse, the honor of her father, whosegenerous confidence had also been implicitly placed in him. But theeffects of these scorpion reproaches in his bosom were not lessdestructive of her peace than of his own. He saw that his weddedTherese was unweariedly anxious to soothe the mysterious wanderingsof his mind with her softest tenderness. But his thoughts were, indeed, far from her, ever hovering over the changed image of his solately adored Edith--ever agonizing over the lightness of a conductso unlike her former virgin delicacy, so unlike the clinging vows shebreathed to him in their hour of boding separation!--ever execratingthe perfidy of his brother, which had brought on him this distractingload of guilt and woe!

In this temper of alienation from all the world, a second packet fromEngland was put into his hand. Again he saw Edith's writing; but hedropped it unopened, in horror of the signature he anticipated wouldbe appended to it. Roused by resentment towards him whose name hebelieved she then bore, he tore asunder the wax of a letter from hisfather, which was sealed with black. His eyes were speedily rivetedto it. Sir Fulke, in the language of deep contrition, confessed atrain of deception that petrified his son. He declared, with bitterinvectives against himself, that all which had been communicated tothat unhappy son relating to Edith and her intended marriage withAlgernon had been devised by that unkind brother, and his no lessunnatural father, for the treacherous purpose of that marriage. Devoted to ambition for his own sake, as well as for that of hisfavorite son, Sir Fulke owned that he had from the first of EdithBeaufort's becoming his ward resolved on her union in due time withAlgernon, in order to endow him, in addition to his own richinheritance, with all the political influence attendant on the vastestate to which she was heiress, and so build up the family, in theconsideration of government, to any pitch of coroneted rank theirhigh-reaching parent might choose to reclaim. 

With many prayers for pardon from Heaven and the cruelly-injuredRobert, the wretched father acknowledged that this confession waswrung from him by the sudden death of his eldest son, who having beenthrown off his horse on a heap of stones in the high-road, afterthree days of severe bodily and mental suffering, now lay a sadly-disfigured corpse, under the vainly mourning blazonry of his house, in the darkened hall of his ancestors. The disconsolate narrator thenadded, "that in contrite repentance his son had conjured him, withhis dying breath, to confess the falsehood of all that had passed tothe grossly-abused Robert;" amongst which, was Algernon turning tothe account of his own designs every confidence imparted to him byhis brother, in his _incognito_ movements, and awakened intimacywith the noble Sarmatian family at Florence. And from theseunsuspected sources, this false friend and kinsman had contrived tothrow out hints of his brother's reported sliding heart to theshrinking object of his own base and perfidious passion. At last, believing Robert to be unfaithful, she sunk into a depression ofspirits which Sir Fulke thought would be easy to work to an assent, in mere reckless melancholy, to the union he sought. With thatobject, and to break the knot at once by a trenchant blow on Robert'sside, Algernon forged that letter in Edith Beaufort's handwritingwhich had announced so unblushingly her preparations for an immediatemarriage with the eldest son. 

"But, " continued Sir Fulke, "death has put an end to this unnaturalrivalry. And my poor girl, undeceived in her opinion of you, longs tosee you, and to give you that hand which your ill-fated brother andinfatuated father so unjustly detained from you. You are now my onlyson, the only prop of my house, the only comfort of my old age! Myson, do not abandon to his remorse and sorrow your only parent. "

On receipt of this packet, in a consternation of amazement, and asoul divided between rekindled love in all its fires and pity andhonor towards her he had betrayed before the altar of heaven, RobertSomerset sacrificed both to his imperious passion. He adored thewoman on whose account he had left the country, and though every tie, sacred and just, bound him to the tender and faithful wife he mustforsake to regain that idol, he at once consigned her to the fullhorrors of desertion and hastened to England. 

"Disgraceful to relate!" ejaculated Sir Robert, putting his hand overhis face, "I married Edith Beaufort, while in our deepest mourning, but at Somerset, as the place farthest from general notice. Myfather, eager to efface as fast as possible from my mind and hers allrecollection of his past conduct towards us, had prepared everythingsplendid, though private, for our union; and in her blissful, restored possession, I forgot for a while Therese and her agonies. But when my dear Pembroke first saw the light, when I pressed him tomy heart, it seemed as if in the same instant a dagger pierced it. When I would have breathed a blessing over him, the conviction struckme that I durst not--that I had deluded the mother who gave himbirth, and that at some future period he might have cause to cursethe author of his existence. 

"Well, " continued the baronet, wiping his forehead, "though the birthof this boy conjured up the image of your mother, to haunt me day andnight, I never could summon moral courage to inquire of her destinyafter I had left her. When the troubles of Poland commenced, what adreadful terror seized me! The successes of their allied enemies, andthe consequent distress and persecution of the chief nobility, overwhelmed me with apprehension. I knew not but that many, like the_noblesse_ of France, might be forced to abandon their country;and the bare idea of meeting your grandfather, or the injuredTherese, in England, precipitated me into a nervous state thatmenaced my life. I became abstracted and seriously ill, was forbiddenall excitements; hence easily avoided the sight of newspapers; and, on the plea you have heard, my family were withheld from speaking onany public subjects that manifestly gave me pain. But I could notprevent the tongues of our visitors from discoursing on a theme whichat that period interested every thinking mind. I heard of the valiantKosciusko, the good Stanislaus, and the palatine Sobieski, with hisbrave grandson, spoken of in the same breath. I durst not surmise whothis grandson was; I dared not ask--I dreaded to know. 

"At length, " added the agitated father, quickening his voice, "theidol of my heart--she for whom I had sacrificed my all of humanprobity, perhaps my soul's eternal peace--died in my arms. Wherecould a wretch like me turn for consolation? I had forfeited allright to it from Heaven or earth. But at last a benignant spiritseemed to breathe on me, and I bent beneath the stroke with humility;for I embraced it as the just chastisement of a crime which tillthen, even in the midst of my married felicity, had often pressed onmy dearest feelings like the hand of death. I repeat, I bore thischastening trial with the resignation I have described. But when, twoyears afterwards, my eye fell by accident upon the name of Sobieskiin one of the public papers, I could not withdraw it; my sight wasfascinated as if by a rattle-snake. In one column I read how bravelythe palatine fell, and in the next the dreadful fate of his daughter. She was revenged!" cried Sir Robert, eagerly grasping the hand ofThaddeus, who could not restrain the groan that burst from hisbreast. "For nearly three months I was deprived of that reason whichhad abused her noble nature. 

"When I recovered my senes, " continued he, in a calmer tone, "andfound I had so fatally suffered the time of any restitution to her togo by, I began to torture my remorseful heart because that I had not, immediately on the death of my too much loved Edith, hastened toPoland, and besought Therese's pardon from her ever-generous heart. But this vivid approach to a sincere repentance was soon obliteratedby the consideration that, the Countess Sobieski having had a priorclaim to my name, such restitution on my part must haveillegitimatized my darling Pembroke, his dying mother's fondestbequeathment to a father's arms. 

"It was this fearful conviction, " exclaimed Sir Robert, a suddenhorror, indeed, distracting his before affectionate eye, "that causedall my barbarian cruelty. When my dear and long-believed only sondescribed the danger from which you had rescued him, when he told methat Therese had fostered him with a parent's tenderness, I wasprobed to the heart. But when he added that the young Count Sobieskiwas now an alien from his country, and relying on my friendship for ahome, my terror was too truly manifested. Horror drove all naturalremorse from my soul. I thought an avenging power had sent mydeserted child to discover his father, to claim his rights, and topublish me as a disgrace to the name I had stolen from him. And whenI saw my innocent Pembroke, even to his knees, petitioning for theman who I believed had come to undo him, I became almost deranged. May the Lord of mercy pardon the fury of that derangement! For underthat temper, " added he, putting the trembling hand of Thaddeus to hisstreaming eyes, "I drove my first-born to be a wanderer on the faceof the earth, not for his own crimes, but for those of his father;and Heaven justly punished in the crime the sin of my injustice. WhenI thought that evidence of my shame was divided from me by aninsuperable barrier, when I believed that the ocean would soonseparate me from my fears, a righteous Providence brought thee beforeme, forlorn and expiring. It was the son of Therese Sobieski I hadexposed to such wretchedness. It was the cherished of her heart I haddelivered to the raging elements! Oh, Thaddeus, my son, " cried he, "can I be forgiven for all this, in this world or in the next?"

"Oh, my father!" returned Thaddeus, with a modest, but a patheticenergy, "I am thy son! thy happy son, in such acknowledgment!Therefore no longer upbraid yourself. Did you not act, as by a sacredimpulse, a father's part to me when you knew me not? You raised mydying head from the earth and laid it on your bosom. O, my father! Hewho brought us so together in his own appointed time, chastenethevery son whom he receiveth, and has thus proved his love and pardonto your contrite heart, both on earth and in heaven, by the nature ofyour chastisement and the healing balm at its close!"

At the end of this interview, so interesting and vital to thehappiness of both these newly-united parties, father and son, SirRobert motioned his blessing to that son by laying his hand gently onhis head, while the parental tears flowed on that now dear forehead--for he could not then speak. He immediately withdrew, to leaveThaddeus to repose, and himself to retire to pour out his gratefulspirit in private. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XLVI. 

THE SPIRIT OF PEACE. 

At dawn on the morning following the preceding eventful but happyconference, Sir Robert, painfully remembering the frantic grief ofPembroke on finding that Sobieski had not only withdrawn himself fromHarrowby, but had adjured England forever, and still feeling themerited bitterness of the reproaches which his inexplicable commands, dishonoring to his son, had provoked from that only too-long-preferred offspring of his idolized Edith. --which reproaches, unknowingly so inflicted by the desperation of their utterer, haddriven the guilty father to seek a temporary refuge from them, if notfrom his own accusing conscience, under the then solitary roof of oneof his country seats in the adjacent county, --yet somewhat relieved, as by the immediate mercy of Heaven, from the load of his misery, heeagerly wrote by the auspicious beams of the rising sun a few shortlines to Pembroke, telling him that "a providential circumstance hadoccurred since they parted, which he trusted would finally reconcileinto a perfect peace all that had recently passed so distressinglybetween them; therefore he, his ever tenderly-affectioned father, requested him to join him alone, and without delay, at Deerhurst. "

This duty done to one beloved child, he then turned to anticipate asecond converse to his comfort with the other. 

That sickness which is the consequence of mental suffering usuallyvanishes with its cause. Long before the dinner-hour of this happyday, Thaddeus, refreshed by the peaceful and lengthened sleep fromwhich he awoke late in the morning, rose as if with a renewedprinciple of life. Quitting his room, he met his glad father in thepassage-gallery, who instantly conducted him into a private room, where that now tranquillized parent soon brought him to relate, withevery sentence a deepening interest, the rapid incidents of his briefbut eventful career. The voice of fame had already blazoned himabroad as "the plume of war, with early laurels crowned;" but it wasleft to his own ingenuous tongue to prove, in all the modestsimplicity of a perfect filial confidence, that the most difficultconflicts are not those which are sustained on the battle-field. 

Sir Robert listened to him with affection, admiration, and delight, --ah, with what pride in such a son! He was answering the heartfeltdetail with respondent gratefulness to that Almighty Power which hadshed on his transgressing head such signal "signs of heavenlyamnesty!" when the door opened, and a servant announced that Mr. Somerset was in the library. 

Thaddeus started up with joy in his countenance; but Sir Robertgently put him down again. "Remain here, my son, " said he, "until Iapprize your brother how nearly you are related to him. Yonder doorleads into my study; I will call you when he is prepared. "

The moment Sir Robert joined Pembroke, he read in his pale andhaggard features how much he needed the intelligence he was summonedto hear. Mr. Somerset bowed coldly but respectfully on his father'sentrance, and begged to be honored with his commands. 

"They are what I expect will restore to you your usual looks andmanner, my dear son, " returned the baronet; "so attend to me. "

Pembroke listened to his father's narrative with mute and, as itproceeded, amazed attention. But when the name of Therese Sobieskiwas mentioned as that of the foreign lady whom he had married anddeserted, the ready apprehension of his breathless auditor conceivingthe remainder yet unuttered by the agitated narrator, Sir Robert hadonly to confirm, though in a hardly audible voice, the eager demandof his son, "Was Thaddeus Sobieski indeed his brother?" and whilehearing the reply, unable to ask another question, he looked wildlyfrom earth to heaven, as if seeking where he might yet be found. 

"O, my father!" cried he, "what have you done? Where is he? For whathave you sacrificed him?"

"Hear me to an end, " rejoined the baronet. He then, in as few wordsas possible, repeated the subsequent events of the recent meeting. 

Pembroke's raptures were now as high as his despair had beenprofound. He threw himself on his father's breast; he asked for hisfriend, his brother, and begged to be conducted to him. Sir Robertdid no more than open the intervening door, and in one instant thebrothers were locked in each other's arms. 

The transports of the young men for a long while denied them words;but their eyes, their tears, and their united hands imparted to eachbreast a consciousness of mutual love unutterable, not even to beexpressed by those looks which are indeed the heralds of the soul. 

Sir Robert wept like an infant whilst contemplating these twoaffectionate brothers; in a faltering voice he exclaimed, "How soonmay these plighted hands be separated by inexorable law! Alas, Pembroke, you cannot be ignorant that I buy this son at a terribleprice from you!"

At this speech the blood rushed over the cheek of the ingenuousPembroke; but Thaddeus, turning instantly to Sir Robert, said, withan eloquent smile. 

"On this head I trust that neither my father nor my brother willentertain one thought to trouble them. Had I even the inclination toact otherwise than right, my revered grandfather has put it out of mypower to claim or to bear any other name than that of Sobieski. Hemade me swear never to change it; and, as I hope to meet himhereafter, " added he, with solemnity, "I will obey him. Therefore, mybeloved father, in secret only can I enjoy the conviction that I amyour son, and Pembroke's brother. Yet the happiness I receive withthe knowledge of being so will ever live here, will ever animate myheart with gratitude to Heaven and to you. "

"Noble son of the sainted Therese!" cried Sir Robert; "I do notdeserve thee!"

"How shall I merit your care of my honor, of my dearest feelings?"exclaimed Pembroke, grasping the hand of his brother. "I can donothing, dearest Thaddeus; I am a bankrupt in the means of evincingwhat is passing in my soul. My mother's chaste spirit thanks you frommy lips. Yet I will not abuse your generosity. Though I retain thename of Somerset, it shall only be the name; the inheritance entailedon my father's eldest son belongs to you. "

Whilst Thaddeus embraced his brother again, he calmly andaffectionately replied that he would rather encounter all theprobable evils from which his father's benevolence had saved him, than rob his brother of any part of that inheritance, "which, " heearnestly added, "I sincerely believe, according to the Providence ofHeaven, is your just due. "

Sir Robert, with abhorrence of himself and admiration of his sons, attempted to stop this noble contention by proposing that it shouldbe determined by an equal division of the family property. 

"Not so, my father, " returned Thaddeus, steadfastly, but withreverence; "I can never admit that the title of Somerset shouldsacrifice one jot of its inherited accustomed munificence by makingany such alienation of its means. "

And then the ingenuous son of Therese Sobieski proceeded, in the samemodest but firm tone, to remind his father that "though the laws ofthe national church wherein he had married her would have given theirson every right over any inheritance from either parent whichbelonged to Poland, yet as no opportunity had subsequently occurredfor repeating the sacred ceremony by the laws of his father's church, her son could make no legal claim whatever on a rood of the Somersetlands in England. "

Sir Robert, with unspeakable emotion, clasped the hand of his first-born when he had made, and with such tender delicacy, this conclusiveremark, and which, indeed, had never presented itself to his oftendistractedly apprehensive mind, either before or after the death ofPembroke's mother; even had it done so, it would not have affordedany quiet to his soul from the internal worm gnawing there. His acthad been guilt towards Therese Sobieski and her confiding innocence. And it was not the discovery of any omitted legislative ordinancethat could have satisfied the accusing conscience in his own bosom, hourly calling out against him. But the heaven-consecrated son ofthat profaned marriage had found the reconciling point--had poured inthe healing balm; and the spirit of his father was now at peace. 

In cordial harmony, therefore, with this generous opinion, soopportunely expressed by the sincere judgment of the last of thehouse of Sobieski, when so united to that of Somerset, and with acorresponding simplicity of purpose, interwoven by the sweetreciprocity of mutual confidence, the remainder of the evening passedpleasantly between the happy father and his no less happy sons. 

Sir Robert dispatched a letter next day to his sister, to invite herand his beloved Mary to join the home party at Deerhurst withoutdelay. Pembroke rejoiced in this prospective relief to the minds ofhis aunt and cousin, being well aware that he had left them in astate of intense anxiety, not only on account of the baronet'sstrange conduct, --which had not been explicable in any way to theiralarmed observations, --but on account of himself, whose mind hadappeared from the time of his father's incensed departure in a stateverging on derangement. On the instant of his return from thedeserted hotel, while passing Mary, whom he accidently met in hisbewildered way to Sir Robert's room, he had exclaimed to her, "I havenot seen Sobieski! he is gone! and your message is not delivered. "From the time of that harrowing intimation, he had constantly avoidedeven the sight of his cousin or his aunt. Yet before he quitted theCastle to obey his father's new commands, he had summoned courage toenter Mary's boudoir, where she sat alone. Not trusting himself tospeak, he put the letter which Thaddeus had written to her into herhand, and disappeared, not daring to await her opening what he knewto be a last farewell. 

He had guessed aright; for from the moment in which her tremblinghand had broken the seal and she had read it to the end, bathed inher tears, it lay on her mourning heart, whether she waked or slept, till her silent grief was roused to share her thoughts with apersonal exertion, welcome to that despondent heart. It was SirRobert's invitation for her own and her aunt's immediate removal totheir always favorite Deerhurst! because far from the gay world, andever devoted to quite domestic enjoyments. 

But before this summons had arrived, and early in the morning of thesame day, Lady Albina Stanhope, more dead than alive in appearance, had reached Somerset Castle in a post-chaise, accompanied by her maidalone, to implore the protection of its revered owner against themost terrible evils that could be inflicted by an unnatural parent ona daughter's heart--that of being compelled to be a party in a doubleoutrage on the memory of her mother, by witnessing the marriage ofher father, by special license, to Lady Olivia Lovel, that veryevening, in the Harwold great hall, and herself to commit themonstrous act of being married to a nephew of that profligate woman. To avoid such horrors, she had flown for refuge to the only personsshe knew on earth likely to shield her from so great an infamy. 

Soon after this disclosure, to which the sister and niece of thebeneficent Sir Robert Somerset--whom she had hoped to find at theCastle--had listened with the tenderest sympathy, his letter to MissDorothy was delivered to the venerable lady. Mary and their fatiguedguest were seated together on the sofa; and the seal, withoutapology, from the receiver's anxious haste to learn what it mightcontain of her brother's health, was instantly broken. A glanceremoved every care. Reading it aloud to both her young auditors, atevery welcome word the bosom of the amazed Miss Beaufort heaved withincreasing astonishment, hope, and gratitude, while beneath the veilof her clustered ringlets her eyes shed the tribute of happy tears toheaven--to that heaven alone her virgin spirit breathed the emotionsof her reviving heart. The good old lady was not backward indemonstrating her wonderings. Surprised at her brother's rencontrewith Thaddeus, but more at his avowal of obligations to any of thatnation about which he had always proclaimed an aversion, she was sowrapped in bewilderment yet delight at the discovery, that her evercheerful tongue felt nothing loathe to impart to the attentively-listening Albina--who had recognized in the names of Constantine andThaddeus those of her lamented mother's most faithful friend--allthat she knew of his public as well as his private character sinceshe had known him by that of Sobieski also. 

Sir Robert's letter informed his sister "that a providentialcircumstance had introduced Pembroke's friend, the Count Sobieski, tohis presence, when, to his astonishment and unutterable satisfaction, he discovered that this celebrated young hero (though one of a nationagainst which he had so often declared his dislike, but whichungenerous prejudice he now abjured!) was the only remaining branchof a family from whom, about twenty-live years ago, while in acountry far distant equally from England or Poland, he had receivedmany kindnesses, he had contracted an immense debt, under peculiarlyembarrassing circumstances to himself, when then an alien from hisfather's confidence. And his benefactor in this otherwiseinextricable dilemma was the Palatine of Masovia, the world-reveredgrandfather of the young Count Sobieski. And, " he added, "in somesmall compensation for the long-unredeemed pecuniary part of thislatter obligation, (the fulfilment of which certain adverse events onthe continent had continued to prevent), he had besought and obtainedpermission from the young count, now in England, to at once set atrest his past anxieties to settle an affair of so much importance, bysigning over to him, as the palatine's heir and representative, thesole property of his (Sir Robert's) recently-purchased new domain--the house and estates of Manor Court, nearly adjoining to those ofDcerhurst, on the Warwick side. The rent-roll might be about livethousand pounds per annum. And there, in immediate right ofpossession, the noble descendant of his munificent friend wouldresume his illustrious name, and embrace, with a generous esteem ofthis country's national, character, a lasting home and filiation inEngland!"

Sir Robert closed this auspicious letter (which he had striven, however, to write in such a manner as not to betray the true natureof the parental feelings which dictated it) with a playful expressionof his impatience to present to his sister and niece "theirinteresting _emigré_ in a character which reflected so muchhonor on their discernment. "

The impatience was indeed shared, though in different degrees andforms, by the whole little party--the soul of one in it totallyabsorbed. But owing to some insurmountable obstacles, occasioningdelays, by the exhausted state of the overwrought Lady Albina; andnotwithstanding the necessity of getting on as fast as possible, tobe out of the reach of the enraged earl, should he have missed andtraced his daughter to Somerset Castle, the fugitives could not starttill late in the afternoon of that day, and it was an hour or morepast midnight before they arrived at Deerhurst. 

The family, in no small disappointment, had given them up for thenight, and had retired to their rooms. Miss Dorothy, who would notsuffer her brother to be disturbed, sent the two young ladies totheir chambers, and was crossing, on tiptoe, the long picture-galleryto her own apartment, when a door opening, Pembroke, in his dressing-gown and slippers, looked out on hearing the stealthy step. She putforth her hand to him with delight, and in a low voice congratulatedhim on the change in Sir Robert's mind, kissed his cheek, and toldhim to prepare for another pleasant surprise in the morning. Smilingwith these words, she bade him good-night, and softly proceeded toher chamber. 

Pembroke had thought so little of his ever-merry aunt's livelypromise, that she saw him one of the latest in entering thebreakfast-parlor, he not having hastened from his usual breezy earlywalk over the neighboring downs, where Thaddeus had been hiscompanion. Miss Dorothy gayly reproached her nephew for his undutifullack of curiosity, while Mary, with a glowing cheek, received theglad embrace of her cousin, who gently whispered to her, "Now I shallsee together the two beings I most dearly love! Oh! the happinesscontained in that sight!" Mary's vivid blush had not subsided whenthe entrance of Thaddeus, and his agitated bow, overspread her neckand brow with crimson. A sudden dimness obscured her faculties, andshe scarcely heard the animated words of Sir Robert, whilstpresenting him to her as the Count Sobieski, the beloved grandson ofone who had deserved the warmest place in his heart! Whatever he was, the lowly Constantine or the distinguished Sobieski, she wasconscious that he was lord of hers; and withdrawing her handconfusedly from the timid and thrilling touch of him she would havewillingly lingered near forever, she glided towards an open casement, where the fresh air helped to dispel the faintness which had seizedher. 

After Miss Dorothy, with all the urbanity of her nature, had declaredher welcome to the count, she put away the coffee that was handed toher by Pembroke, and said, with a smile, "Before I taste mybreakfast, I must inform you, Sir Robert, that you have a guest inthis house you little expect. I forbade Miss Beaufort's saying aword, because, as we are told, 'the first tellers of unwelcome newshave but a losing office;' _vice versâ_, I hoped for a gainingone, therefore preserved such a profitable piece of intelligence formy own promulgation. Indeed, I doubt whether it will not win me apair of gloves from some folks here, " added she, glancing archly onPembroke, who looked round at this whimsical declaration. "Suffice itto say, that yesterday morning Lady Albina Stanhope, looking like aghost, and her poor maid, scared almost out of her wits, arrived in ahack-chaise at Somerset Castle, and besought our protection. Our dearMary embraced the weeping young creature, who, amidst many tears, recapitulated the injuries she had suffered since she had been tornfrom her mother's remains at the Abbey. The latest outrage of hercruel father was his intended immediate marriage with the vile LadyOlivia Lovel, and his commands that Lady Albina should the sameevening give her hand to that bad woman's nephew. Ill as she was whenshe received these disgraceful orders, she determined to prevent thehorror of such double degradation by instantly quitting the house;'and, ' added she, 'whither could I go? Ah! I could think of none solikely to pity the unhappy victim of the wickedness I fled from asthe father of the kind Mr. Somerset. He had told me we wererelations; I beseech you, kind ladies, to be my friends!' Certain ofyour benevolence, my dear brother, " continued Miss Dorothy, "Istopped this sweet girl's petition with my caresses, and promised hera gentler father in Sir Robert Somerset. "

"You did right, Dorothy, " returned the baronet; "though the earl andI must ever be strangers, I have no enmity to his children. Where isthis just-principled young lady?"

Miss Dorothy informed him that, in consequence of her recent griefand ill treatment, she had found herself too unwell to rise with thefamily; but she hoped to join them at noon. 

Pembroke was indeed deeply interested in this intelligence. Thesimple graces of the lovely Albina had on the first interview touchedhis heart. Her sufferings at Harrowby, and the sensibility which heringenuous nature exhibited without affectation or disguise, had lefther image on his mind long after they parted. He now gave the reinsto his eager imagination, and was the first in the saloon to greether as his lovely kins-woman. 

Sir Robert Somerset welcomed her with the warmth of a parent, and theamiable girl wept in happy gratitude. 

During this scene, Miss Beaufort, no longer able to bear therestraint of company nor even the accidental encountering of his eyeswhose presence, dear as it was, oppressed and disconcerted her, walked out into the park. Though it was the latter end of October, the weather continued fine. A bright sun tempered the air, and gildedthe yellow leaves, which the fresh wind drove before her into athousand glittering eddies. This was Mary's favorite season. She everfound its solemnity infuse a sacred tenderness into her soul. Therugged form of Care seemed to dissolve under the magic touch of sweetNature. Forgetful of the world's anxieties, she felt the tranquillizingspirit of soothing melancholy that shades the heart of sorrow witha veil which might well be called the twilight of the mind; and theentranced soul, happy in its dream, half closes its bright eye, reluctant to perceive that such bland repose is pillowed on theshifting clouds. 

Such were the reflections of Miss Beaufort, after her disturbedthoughts had tossed themselves, in a sea of doubts, regarding anypossible interest she might possess in the breast of Sobieski. Sherecalled the hours they had passed together; they agitated but didnot satisfy her heart. She remembered Pembroke's vehement declarationthat Thaddeus loved her; but then it was Pembroke's declaration, nothis! and the circumstances in which it had been made were too likelyto mislead the wishes of her cousin. And then Sobieski's farewellletter! It was noble--grateful; but where appeared the glowing, soul-pervading sentiment that consumed her life for him? Exhausted by theanguish of this suspense, she resolved to resign her future fate toProvidence. Turning her gaze on the lovely objects around, she soonfound the genius of the season absorb her wholly. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes became humid, and casting their mild radiance on the fadingflowers beneath, she pursued her way through a cloud of fragrance. Itwas the last breath of the expiring year. Love is full ofimagination. Mary easily glided from the earth's departing charms toher own she thought waning beauty; the chord once touched, every notevibrated, and hope and fear, joy and regret, again dispossessed herlately-acquired serenity. 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

AN AVOWAL. 

After some little time, Lady Albina, having missed Miss Beaufort, expressed a wish to walk out in search of her, and the two brothersoffered their attendance. But before her ladyship had passed throughthe first park, she complained of fatigue. Pembroke urged her toenter a shepherd's hut close by, whilst the Count Sobieski wouldproceed alone in quest of his cousin. 

With a beating heart Thaddeus undertook this commission. Hasteningalong the nearest dell with the lightness of a young hunter, hemounted the heights, descended to the glades, traversed one woodynook and then another, but could see no trace of Miss Beaufort. Supposing she had returned to the house, he was slackening his paceto abandon the search, when he caught a glimpse of her figure as sheturned the corner of a thicket leading to a terrace above. In aninstant he was at her side, and with his hat in his hand, and aglowing cheek, he repeated his errand. 

Mary blushed, faltered, and became strangely alarmed at findingherself alone with him. Though he now stood before her in a qualitywhich she ever believed was his right, the remembrance of what hadpassed between them in other circumstances confounded and overwhelmedher. When Constantine was poor and unfriended, it seemed a sacredprivilege to pity and to love him. When the same Constantine appearedas a man of rank, invested with a splendid fortune and extensivefame, she felt lost--annihilated. The cloud which had obscured, notextinguished, his glory was dispersed. He was that Sobieski whom shehad admired unseen; he was that Constantine whom she had lovedunknown; he was that Sobieski, that Constantine, whom, seen andknown, she now, alas! loved almost to adoration!

Oppressed by the weight of these emotions, she only bowed to what hesaid, and gathering her cloak from the winds which blew it aroundher, was hurrying with downward eyes to the stairs of the terrace, when her foot slipped, and she must have fallen, had not Thaddeuscaught her in his ready arm. She rose with a blushing face, and thecolor did not recede when she found that he had not relinquished herhand. Her heart beat violently, her head became giddy, her feet losttheir power. Finding that, after a slight attempt to withdraw herhand, he still held it fast, though in a trembling grasp, and nearlyovercome by inexplicable distress, she turned away her face toconceal its confusion. 

Thaddeus saw all this, and with a fluttering hope, instead ofsurrendering the hand he had retained, he made it a yet closerprisoner by clasping it in both his. Pressing it earnestly to hisbreast, he said in a hurried voice, whilst his earnest eyes pouredall their beams upon her averted cheek, "Surely Miss Beaufort willnot deny me the dearest happiness I possess--the privilege of beinggrateful to her?"

He paused: his soul was too full for utterance; and raising Mary'shand from his heart to his lips, he kissed it fervently. Almostfainting, Miss Beaufort leaned her head against a tree of the thicketwhere they were standing. The thought of the confession whichPembroke had extorted from her, and dreading that its fullness mighthave been imparted to him, and that all this was rather the tributeof gratitude than of love, she waved her other hand in sign for himto leave her. 

Such extraordinary confusion in her manner palsied the warm andblissful emotions of the count. He, too, began to blame the sanguinerepresentation of his friend; and fearing that he had offended her, that she might suppose he presumed on her kindness, he stood for amoment in silent astonishment; then dropping on his knee, (hardlyconscious of the action, ) declared in an agitated voice his sense ofhaving given this offence; at the same time he ventured to repeat, with equally modest energy, the soul-devoted passion he had so longendeavored to seal up in his lonely breast. 

"But forgive me!" added he, with increased earnestness; "forgive me, in justice to your own virtues. In what has just passed, I feel Iought to have only expressed thanks for your goodness to anunfortunate exile; but if my words or manner have obeyed the morefervid impulse of my soul, and declared aloud what is its glory insecret, blame my nature, most respected Miss Beaufort, not mypresumption. I have not dared to look steadily on any aim higher thanyour esteem. "

Mary knew not how to receive this address. The position in which heuttered it, his countenance when she turned to answer him, were bothdemonstrative of something less equivocal than his speech. He wasstill grasping the drapery of her cloak, and his eyes, from which thewind blew back his fine hair, were beaming upon her full of thatpiercing tenderness which at once dissolves and assures the soul. 

She passed her hand over her eyes. Her soul was in a tumult. She toofondly wished to believe that he loved her to trust the evidence ofwhat she saw. His words were ambiguous, and that was sufficient tofill her with uncertainty. Jealous of that delicacy which is theparent of love, and its best preserver, she checked the over-flowingsof her heart, and whilst her concealed face streamed with tears, conjured him to rise. Instinctively she held out her hand to assisthim. He obeyed; and hardly conscious of what she said, she continued--

"You have done nothing, Count Sobieski, to offend me. I was fearfulof my own conduct--that you might have supposed--I mean, unfortunateappearances might lead you to imagine that I was influenced--was soforgetful of myself--"

"Cease, madam! Cease, for pity's sake!" cried Thaddeus starting back, and dropping her hand. Every motion which faltered on her tongue hadmet an answering pang in his breast. 

Fearing that he had set his heart on the possession of a treasuretotally out of his reach, he knew not how high had been his hopeuntil he felt the depth of his despair. Taking up his hat, which layon the grass, with a countenance from which every gleam of joy wasbanished, he bowed respectfully, and in a lower tone continued: "Thedependent situation in which I appeared at Lady Dundas's being everbefore my eyes, I was not so absurd as to suppose that any lady couldthen notice me from any other sentiment than humanity. That I excitedthis humanity, where alone I was proud to awaken it, was, in thesehours of dejection, my sole comfort. It consoled me for the friends Ihad lost; it repaid me for the honors which were no more. But that ispast! Seeing no further cause for compassion, you deem the delusionno longer necessary. Since you will not allow me an individualdistinction in having attracted your benevolence, though I am toascribe it all to a charity as diffused as effective, yet I must everacknowledge with the deepest gratitude that I owe my present home andhappiness to Miss Beaufort. Further than this, I shall not--I darenot--presume. "

These words shifted all the count's anguish to Mary's breast. Sheperceived the offended delicacy which actuated each syllable as itfell; and fearful of having lost everything by her cold and whatmight appear haughty reply, she opened her lips to say what mightbetter explain her meaning; but her heart failing her, she closedthem again, and continued to walk in silence by his side. Havingallowed the opportunity to escape, she believed that all hopes ofexculpation were at an end. Not daring to look up, she cast adespairing glance at Sobieski's graceful figure, as he walked, equally silent, near her. His arms were folded, his hat pulled overhis forehead, and his long dark eyelashes, shading his downward eyes, imparted a dejection to his whole air which wrapped her weeping heartround and round with regretful pangs. "Ah!" thought she, "though theoffspring of but one moment, they will prey on my peace forever. "

At the turning of a little wooded knoll, the mute and pensive pairheard the sound of some one on the other side, approaching themthrough the dry leaves. In a minute after Sir Robert Somersetappeared. 

Whilst his father advanced smiling towards him, Thaddeus attempted todispel the gloom of his countenance, but not succeeding, he bowedabruptly to the agitated Mary, and hastily said, "I will leave MissBeaufort in your protection, sir, and go myself to see whether LadyAlbina be recovered from her fatigue. "

"I thought to find you all together, " returned Sir Robert; "where isher ladyship?"

"I left her with Pembroke, in a hut by the river, " said Thaddeus, andbowing again, he hurried away, whilst his father called after him toreturn in a few minutes, and accompany him in a walk. 

The departure of Sobieski, when he had come expressly to attend herto Lady Albina, nearly overwhelmed Miss Beaufort's before exhaustedspirits. Hardly knowing whether to remain or retreat, she wasattempting the latter, when her guardian caught her hand. 

"Stay, Mary!" cried he; "you surely would not leave me alone?"

Miss Beaufort's tears had gushed over her eyes the moment her backwas turned, and as Sir Robert drew her towards him, to his extremeamazement he saw that she was weeping. At a sight so unexpected, thesmile of hilarity left his lips. Putting his arm tenderly round herwaist, (for now that her distress had discovered itself, her emotionbecame so great that she could hardly stand, ) he inquired in a kindlymanner what had affected her. 

She answered by sobs only, until finding it impossible to break awayfrom her uncle's arms, she hid her face in his bosom and gave vent tothe full tide of her tears. 

Recollecting the strange haste in which Thaddeus had hurried fromthem, and remembering Miss Beaufort's generosity to him in town, followed by her succeeding melancholy, Sir Robert at once unitedthese circumstances with her present confusion, and conceiving aninstantaneous suspicion of the reality, pressed her with redoubledaffection to his bosom. 

"I fear, my dearest girl, " said he, "that something disagreeable hashappened between you and the Count Sobieski. Perhaps he has offendedyou? perhaps he has found my sweet Mary too amiable?"

Alarmed at this supposition, after a short struggle she answered, "Ono, sir! It is I who have offended him. He thinks I pride myself onthe insignificant services I rendered to him in London. "

This reply convinced the baronet that he had not been pre-mature inhis judgment, and, with a new-born delight springing in his soul, heinquired why she thought so? Had she given him any reason to believeso?

Mary trembled at saying more. --Dreading that every word she mightutter would betray how highly she prized the count's esteem, shefaltered, hesitated, stopped. Sir Robert put the question a secondtime, in different terms. 

"My loved Mary, " said he, seating her by him on the trunk of a fallentree, "I am sincerely anxious that you and this young nobleman shouldregard each other as friends. He is very dear to me; and you cannotdoubt, my sweet girl, my affection for yourself. Tell me, therefore, the cause of this little misunderstanding. "

Miss Beaufort took courage at this speech. Drying her glowing eyes, though still concealing them with a handkerchief, she replied in afirmer voice, "I believe, sir, the fault lies totally on my side. TheCount Sobieski met me on the terrace, and thanked me for what I haddone for him. I acted very weakly; I was confused. Indeed I knew notwhat he said; but he fell upon his knees, and I became sodisconcerted, so frightened at the idea of his having attributed myconduct to indelicacy, or forwardness, that I answered somethingwhich offended him, and I am sure he now thinks me unfeeling andproud. "

Sir Robert kissed her throbbing forehead, as she ended this rapid andhardly-articulated explanation. 

"Tell me candidly, my dearest Mary!" rejoined the baronet, "can youbelieve that a man of Sobieski's disposition would bend his knee to awoman whom he did not both respect and love? Simple gratitude, mydear girl, is not so earnest. You have said enough to convince me, whatever may be your sentiments, that you are the mistress of hisfate; and if he should mention it to me, may I describe to him thescene which has now passed between us? May I tell him that its justinference would requite his tenderness with more than your thanks andbest wishes?"

Miss Beaufort, who believed that the count must now despise her, looked down to conceal the wretchedness which spoke through her eyes, and with a half-suppressed sigh, answered, "I will not deny that Ideeply esteem the Count Sobieski. I admired his character before Isaw him, and when I did see him, although ignorant that it was he, the impression seemed the same. Yet I never aspired to any place inhis heart, or even his remembrance; I could not have the presumption. Therefore, my dear uncle, " added she, laying her trembling hand onhis arm, "I beseech you, as you value my feelings, my peace of mind, never to breathe a syllable of my weakness to him. I think, " addedshe, clasping her hands with energy, and forgetting the force of herexpression, "I would sooner suffer death than lose his respect. "

"And yet, " inquired Sir Robert, "you will at some future period giveyour hand to another man?"

Mary, who did not consider the extent of this insidious question, answered with fervor, "Never! I never can be happier than I am, "added she, with breathless haste. Seeing, by the smile on SirRobert's lips, that far more had been declared by her manner than herwords intended, and fearful of betraying herself further, she beggedpermission to retire to the house. 

The baronet took her hand, and reseating her by him, continued, "No, my Mary; you shall not leave me unless you honestly avow what yoursentiments are towards the Count Sobieski. You know, my sweet girl, that I have tried to make you regard me as a father--to induce you toreceive from my love the treble affection of your deceased parentsand my lamented wife. If her dear niece do not deny this, she cannottreat me with reserve. "

Miss Beaufort was unable to speak. Sir Robert proceeded:

"I will not overwhelm your shrinking delicacy by repeating theinquiry whether I have mistaken the source of your recent and presentemotion; only allow me to bestow some encouragement on the count'sattachment, should he claim my services in its behalf. "

Mary drew her uncle's hand to her lips, and whilst her dropping tearsfell upon it, she threw herself, like a confiding child, on herknees, and replied in a timid voice: "I should be a monster ofingratitude could I hide anything from you, my dearest sir, afterthis goodness! I confess that I do regard the Count Sobieski morethan any being on earth. Who could see and know him and think itpossible to become another's?"

"And you shall be his, my darling Mary!" cried the baronet, minglinghis own blissful tears with hers. "I once hoped to have contrived anattachment between you and Pembroke, but Heaven has decreed itbetter. When you and Thaddeus are united, I shall be happy; I maythen die in peace. "

Miss Beaufort sighed heavily. She could not yet quite participate inher uncle's rapture. She thought that she had insulted and disgustedthe count by her late behavior, beyond his excuse, and was openingher lips to urge it again, when the object of their conversationappeared at a short distance, coming towards them. 

Full of renewed trepidation, she burst from the baronet's hand, andtaking to flight, left her uncle to meet Sobieski alone. 

Sir Robert's anxious question on the same subject received a morerapid reply from Thaddeus than had proceeded from the reluctant MissBeaufort. The animated gratitude of Sobieski, the ardent yetrespectful manner with which he avowed her eminence in his heartabove all other women, convinced the baronet that Mary's retreatingdelicacy had misinformed her. A complete explanation was theconsequence; and Thaddeus, who had not been more sanguine in hishopes than was his lovely mistress in hers, now allowed the cloudsover his so lately darkened eyes to disappear. 

Impatient to see these two beings, so dear to his soul, reposeconfidently in each other's affection, the moment Sir Robert returnedto the house, he asked his sister for Miss Beaufort. Miss Dorothyreplied that she had seen her about half an hour ago retire to herown apartments; the baronet, therefore, sent a servant to beg thatshe would meet him in the library. 

This message found her in a paroxysm of distress. She reproachedherself for her imprudence, her temerity, her unwomanly conduct, inhaving given away her heart to a man who she again began to tormentherself by believing had never desired it. She remembered that herweakness, not her sincerity, had betrayed this humiliating secret toSir Robert; and nearly distracted, she lay on the bed, almost hopingthat she was in a miserable dream, when her maid entered with thebaronet's commands. 

Disdaining herself, and determining to regain some portion of her ownrespect by steadily opposing all her uncle's deluding hopes, with anassumed serenity she arrived at the study-door. She laid her hand onthe lock, but the moment it yielded to her touch, all her firmnessvanished. Trembling, and pale as death, she appeared before him. 

Sir Robert, having supported her to a chair, with the mostaffectionate and tender expressions of paternal exultation repeatedto her the sum of his conversation with the count. Mary was almostwild at this discourse. So inconsistent and erratic is the passion oflove, when it reigns in woman's breast, she forgot in an instant thelooks and voice of Thaddeus; she forgot her terror of havingforfeited his affection by her affected coldness alone; and dreadingthat the first proposal of their union had proceeded from her uncle, she buried her agitated face in her hands, and exclaimed, "O sir! Ifear that you have made me forever hateful in my own eyes anddespicable in those of the Count Sobieski!"

Sir Robert looked on her emotion with a smiling but a pitying gaze, reading in all the unaffected apprehensive modesty of that noblemaiden's heart. 

"Well, " cried he, in a gentle raillery of tone, "my own beloved one!if thy guardian uncle cannot prevail over this wayward fancifulness, so unlike his ingenuous Mary's usual fair dealing with the truth ofothers. I must call in even a better-accredited pleader, and shallthen leave my object, the balance of justice and mercy, in equallybeloved hands. "

While he spoke, he rose and opened a door that led to an adjoiningroom. Miss Beaufort would have flown through another had not SirRobert suddenly stood in her way. He threw his arm about her, andturning round, she saw the count, who had entered, regarding her withan anxiety which covered her before pale features with blushes. 

His father bade him come near. Sobieski obeyed, though with a stepthat expressed how reluctant he was to oppress the woman he so trulyloved. Mary's face was now hidden in her uncle's bosom. Sir Robertput her trembling hand into that of his son, who, dropping on hisknee, said, in an agitated voice, "Honored, dearest Miss Beaufort!may I indulge myself in the idea that I am blessed with your regard?"

She could not reply, but whispered to her uncle, "Pray, sir, desirehim to rise! I am overwhelmed. "

"My sweet Mary!" returned the baronet, pressing her to his breast, "this is no time for deception on either side. I know both yourhearts. Rise, Thaddeus, " said he to the count, whilst he locked boththeir hands within his. "Take him, Mary! Receive from your guardianhis most precious gift--my matchless and injured son. "

The abruptness of the first part of this speech might have shockedher exhausted spirits to insensibility, had not the extraordinaryassertion at its end, and Sir Robert's audible sobs, aroused andsurprised her. 

"Your son!" exclaimed she; "what do you mean, my uncle?"

"Thaddeus will explain all to you, " returned he. "May Heaven blessyou both!"

Mary was too much astonished to think of following her agitated uncleout of the room. She sunk on a seat, and turning her gaze full ofamazement towards the count, seemed to ask an explanation. Thaddeus, who still retained her passive hand, pressed it warmly to his heart;and whilst his effulgent eyes were beaming on her with joyous love, he imparted to her a concise but impressive narrative of hisrelationship with Sir Robert. He touched with short yet deepenthusiasm, with more than one tearful pause, on the virtues of hismother; he acknowledged the unbounded gratitude which was due to thatGod who had so wonderfully conducted him to find a parent and a homein England, and with renewed pathos of look and manner ratified theproffer which Sir Robert had made of his heart and hand to her whoalone on this earth had reminded him of that angelic parent. "I naveseen her beloved face, luminous in purity and tender pity, reflectedin yours, ever-honored Miss Beaufort, when your noble heart, morethan once, looked in compassion on her son. And I then felt, with awondering bewilderment, a sacred response in my soul, though I couldnot explain it to myself. But since then that sister spirit of mymother has often whispered it as if direct from heaven. "

Mary had listened with uncontrollable emotion to this interestingdetail. Her eyes overflowed: their ingenuous language, enforced bythe warm blood which glowed on her cheek, did not require the mediumof words to declare what was passing in her mind. Thaddeus gazed onher with a certainty of bliss which penetrated his soul until itsraptures almost amounted to pain. The heart may ache with joy;neither sighs nor language could express what passed in his mind. Heheld her hand to his lips; his other arm fell unconsciously round herwaist, and in a moment he found that he had pressed her to hisbreast. His heart beat violently. Miss Beaufort rose instantaneouslyfrom her chair; but her pure nature needed no disguise. She looked upto him, whilst her blushing eyes were shedding tears of delight, andsaid in a trembling voice: "Tell my dear uncle that Mary Beaufortglories in the means by which she becomes his daughter. "

She moved to the door. Thaddeus, whose full tide of transport deniedhim utterance, only clasped her hands again to his lips and bosom;then, relinquishing them, he suffered her to quit the room. 

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

A FAMILY PARTY. 

The magnificent establishment which this projected union offered toSobieski seemed to heal the yet bleeding conscience of Sir RobertSomerset. Although he had acquiesced in the count's generoussurrender of the family-inherited honors, his heart remained stillill at ease. Every dutiful expression from his long-neglected son attimes had stung him with remorse. But Miss Beaufort's avowed andreturned affection at once removed the lingering accuser from hisbosom. Mistress of immense wealth, her hand would not only put theinjured Thaddeus in possession of the pure delights which only amutual sympathy can bestow, but would enable his munificent spirit toagain exert itself in the worthy disposal of an almost princelyfortune. 

Such meditations having followed the now tranquillized baronet to hispillow, they brought him into the breakfast-parlor next day full ofthat calm pleasure which promises a steady continuance. The happyfamily were assembled. Miss Dorothy saluted her brother, whosebrightened eye declared that he had something pleasant tocommunicate; and he did not keep her in suspense. With the first cupof coffee the good lady poured out, his grateful heart unburdeneditself of the delightful tidings that ere many months, perhaps weeks, he had reason to hope Miss Beaufort would give her hand to the CountSobieski. Pembroke was the only hearer who did not evince surprise atthis announcement. Every one else had been kept uninformed, on theespecial injunction of Sir Robert, who desired its knowledge to bewithheld till he had completed some necessary preliminaries in hismind. But Thaddeus, by the permission of the happy parent, during along and interesting conversation in his library, which passedbetween the father and his new-found son, immediately after thelatter's blissful parting with his then heart-affianced Mary, hadhastened to his brother, and retiring with him to his little study, there communicated, in full and enraptured confidence, the wholeevents of the recent mutual explanations. 

During Sir Robert's animated disclosure, Mary's blushing yet gratefuleyes sought a veil in a branch of geranium which she held in hertrembling hand. 

Miss Dorothy rose from her chair; her smiling tears spoke more thanher lips when she pressed first her niece and then the Count Sobieskiin her venerable arms. 

"Heaven bless you both!" cried she. "This marriage will be the gloryof my age. "

Miss Beaufort turned from the embrace of her aunt to meet the warmcongratulations of Pembroke. Whilst he kissed her burning cheek, hewhispered, loud enough for every one to hear, "And why may I notbrighten in my good aunt's triumph? Attempt it, dear Mary! If you canpersuade my father to allow me to make myself as happy with LadyAlbina Stanhope as you will render Sobieski, I shall forever blessyou!"

Lady Albina colored and looked down. Sir Robert took her hand withpleased surprise, "Do you, my lovely guest--do yon sanction what thisbold boy has just said?"

Lady Albina made no answer; but, blushing deeper than before, cast asidelong glance at Pembroke, as if to petition his support. He was ather side in an instant; then seriously and earnestly entreating hisfather's consent to an union with their gentle kinswoman (whoseapprobation he had obtained the preceding day in the shepherd's hut), he awaited with anxiety the sounds which seemed faltering on SirRobert's lips. 

The baronet, quite overcome by his ever-beloved Pembroke having, likehis brother, disposed of his heart so much to his own honor, foundhimself unable to say what he wished. Joining the hands of the twoyoung people in silence, he hurried out of the room. He ascended tothe library, where kneeling down, he returned devout thanks to that"all-gracious Being who had crowned one so unworthy with blessings soconspicuous. "

Thaddeus, no less than his father, remembered the hand which, havingguided him through a sharply-beset wilderness of sorrow, had in soshort a term conducted him to an Eden of bliss. Long afterwards, whenyears had passed over his happy head, and his days became dedicatedto various important duties, public and private, attendant on hisstation in life and the landed power he held in his adopted country, never did he forget that he was "only a steward of the world'sBenefactor!" The sense of whose deputy he was gave to his heart agrateful conviction that in whatever spot he might be so placed, hewas to consider it as his country!--the Canaan of his commission. 

Before the lapse of a week, it became expedient that Sir Robertshould hasten the marriage of Pembroke with Lady Albina, or be forcedby law to yield her to the demands of her father. After much search, Lord Tinemouth had discovered that his daughter was under theprotection of Sir Robert Somerset. Inflamed with rage and revenge, hesent to order her immediate return, under pain of an instantaneousappeal to the courts of judicature. 

Too well aware that her nonage laid her open to the realization ofthis threat, Lady Albina fell into the most alarming swoonings on thefirst communication of the message. Sir Robert urged that in hercircumstances no authority could be opposed to the earl's exceptingthat of a husband's; and on this consideration she complied with hisarguments and the prayers of her lover, to directly give that powerinto the hands of Pembroke. 

Accordingly, with as little delay as possible, accompanied by MissDorothy and the enraptured Mr. Somerset, the terrified Lady Albinacommenced her journey to Scotland, that being the only place where, in her situation, the marriage could be legally solemnized. Aclerical friend of the baronet's, who dwelt just over the borders, could perform the rite with every proper respect. 

Whilst these young runaways, chaperoned by an old maiden aunt, werepursuing their rapid flight across the Tweed, Sir Robert sent hissteward to London to prepare a house near his own in Grosvenor Squarefor the reception of the bridal pair. During these necessaryarrangements, a happy fortnight elapsed at Deerhurst--thrice happy toMary, because its tranquil hours imparted to her long-doubting heart"a sober certainty of that awaking bliss" which had so often animatedwith hope the visions of her imagination, when contemplating themystery of such a mind as that of Thaddeus having been destined tothe humble lot in which she had found him. Morning, noon, and eveningthe loving companion of the Count Sobieski, she saw with deepeneddevotedness that the brave and princely virtues did not reign alonein his bosom. Their full lustre was rendered less intense by thesoftening shades of those gentler amenities which are the soothersand sweeteners of life. His breast seemed the residence of love--of alove that not only infused a warmer existence through her soul, butdiffused such a light of benevolence over every being within itsinfluence, that all appeared happy who caught a beam of his eye--allenchanted who shared the magic of his smile. Under what differentaspects had she seen this man! Yet how consistent! At the firstperiod of their acquaintance, she beheld him, like that glorious orbwhich her ardent fancy told her he resembled, struggling with thestorm, or looking dimmed, yet unmoved, through the clouds whichobscured his path; but now, like the radiant sun of summer amidst asplendid sky, he seemed to stand the source of light, and love, andjoy. 

Thus did the warm fancy and warmer heart of Mary Beaufort paint theimage of her lover; and when Sir Robert received intelligence thatthe Scottish party had arrived in town and were impatient for thecompany of the beloved inhabitants of Deerhurst, while preparing torevisit the proud and gay world, she confessed that some embers ofhuman pride did sparkle in her own bosom at the anticipation ofwitnessing the homage which they who had despised the unfriendedConstantine tine would pay to the declared and illustrious Sobieski. 

The news of Lady Albina's marriage infuriated the Earl of Tinemouthalmost to frenzy. Well assured that his withholding her fortune wouldoccasion no vexation to a family of Sir Robert Somerset's vastpossessions, he gave way to still more vehement bursts of passion, and in a fit of impotent threatening embarked with all his householdto spend the remainder of the season on his much-disregarded estatesin Ireland. 

This abrupt departure of the earl caused Lady Albina littleuneasiness. His unremitted cruelty, her brother's indifference andthe barbed insults of Lady Olivia Lovel, now the earl's wife, rankledtoo deeply in the daughter's bosom to leave any filial regret behind. Considering their absence a suspension of pain rather than apunishment, she did not stain the kiss which she imprinted on therevered cheek of her new parent with one tear to the memory of herunnatural father. 

Whilst all was splendor and happiness in Grosvenor Square, Thaddeusdid not forget the excellent Mrs. Robson. He hastened to St. Martin'sLane, where the good woman received him with open arms. Nanny hung, crying for joy, upon his hand, and sprung rapturously about his neckwhen he told her he was now a rich man, and that she and hergrandmother should live with him forever. "I am going to be married, my dear Mrs. Robson, " said he; "that ministering angel who visitedyou when I was in prison was sent to wipe away the tears from myeyes. " Drying the cheek of his weeping landlady, while he spoke, withhis own handkerchief, he continued:--"She commanded me not to leaveyou until you had assured me that you will brighten our happiness bytaking possession of a pretty cottage close to her house in Kent. Itis within Beaufort Park, and there my Mary and myself will visit youcontinually. "

"Blessed Mr. Constantine!" cried the worthy woman, pressing his hand;"myself, my Nanny, we are yours;--take us where you please, forwherever you go, there will the Almighty's hand lead us, and therewill his right hand hold us. "

The count rose and turned to the window; his heart was full, and hewas obliged to take time to recover himself before he could resumethe conversation. He saw her twice after this; and on the day of herdeparture for Kent, to await in her own new home his and his Mary'sarrival there, he put into her hand the first quarterly payment of anannuity which would henceforward afford her every comfort, and raiseher to that easy rank in society which her gentle manners and rarevirtues were so admirably fitted to adorn. Neither did he neglect Mr. Burket. It was not in his nature to allow any one who served him topass unrewarded. He called on him on the last day he visited St. Martin's Lane, (when Mrs. Watts, too, shared his bounty, ) and havingrepaid him with a generosity which astonished the good money-lender, he took back his sword, and the venerated old seals he had left withMrs. Robson to get repaired by the same honest hand; also the otherprecious relics he had had refitted to their original settings, andpressing them mournfully yet gratefully to his breast, re-entered SirRobert's carriage to drive home. What bliss to his heart was in thatsword?

Next day Thaddeus directed his steps to Dr. Cavendish's. He found hisworthy friend at home, who received him with kindness. But how wasthat kindness increased to transport when Thaddeus told him, with asmiling countenance, that he was the very Sobieski about whosewayward fate he had asked so many ill-answered questions. Thedelighted doctor embraced him with an ardor which spoke better thanlanguage his admiration and esteem. His amazement, having subsided, he was discoursing with animated interest on events at once so fataland so glorious to Sobieski, when a gentleman was announced by thename of Mr. Hopetown. He entered; and Dr. Cavendish at the same timeintroducing Thaddeus as the Count Sobieski, Mr. Hopetown fixed hiseyes upon him with an expression which neither of the friends couldcomprehend. A little disconcerted at the merchant's seeming rudeness, the good doctor attempted to draw off the steadiness of his gaze byasking how long he had been in England. 

"I left Dantzic, " replied he, "about three weeks ago; and I shouldhave been in London five days since, but a favorite horse of mine, which I brought with me, fell sick at Harwick, and I waited until hewas well enough to travel. "

Whilst he spoke he never withdrew his eyes from the face of Thaddeus, who at the words Dantzic and horse recollected his faithful Saladin;almost hoping that this Mr. Hopetown might prove to be the Briton towhom he had consigned the noble animal, he took a part in theconversation by inquiring of the merchant whether he were a residentof Dantzic. 

"No, your excellency, " replied he; "I live within a mile of it. Several years ago I quitted the smoke and bustle of the town to enjoyfresh air and quiet. "

"Last year, " rejoined Sobieski, "I passed through Dantzic on my wayto England. I believe I saw your house, and remarked its situation. The park is beautiful. "

"And I am indebted, count, " resumed the merchant, "to nobleman ofyour country for its finest ornament: I mean the very horse I spokeof just now. He was sent to me one morning, with a letter from hisbrave owner, requesting me to give him shelter in my park. He is themost beautiful animal ever beheld. Unwilling to leave behind sovaluable a deposit when I came to England I brought him with me. "

"Poor Saladin!" cried Thaddeus, his heart overflowing withremembrance; "how glad I shall be to see thee!"

"What! was the horse yours?" asked Dr. Cavendish, surprised at thisapostrophe. 

"Yes, " returned Thaddeus, "he was mine! and I owe to Mr. Hopetown athousand thanks for his generous acquiescence with the prayers of anunfortunate stranger. "

"No thanks to me, Count Sobieski. The moment I entered this room, Irecollected you to be the same Polish officer I had observed on thebeach at Dantzic. When I described your figure to the man who broughtthe horse, he said it was the same who gave him the letter. I couldnot learn your excellency's name; but I hoped one day or other tohave the pleasure of meeting you again, and of returning Saladin intoyour hands in as good condition as when he came to mine. "

Tears started into the eyes of Thaddeus. 

"That horse, Mr. Hopetown, has carried me through many a bloodyfield; he alone witnessed my last adieu to the bleeding corpse of mycountry! I shall receive him again as an old and dear friend; but tohis kind protector, how can I ever demonstrate the whole of mygratitude?" [Footnote: The love of Thaddeus to his horse has had someresemblances in the author's knowledge in yet more recent times. Itseems to belong to the brave heart of every country in our civilizedEurope, as well as in that of the wild Arab of the desert, tocompanion itself with his war-steed as with a friend or brother. Iknew more than one gallant man who wept over the doom of his oldcharger when shot in the lines near Corunna; and another, of the sameand other fields, who can never mention without turning pale the nameof his faithful and beloved horse Columbus, who had carried himthrough various dangers on the South American continent, and at lastperished by his side during a tremendous storm at sea, when noexertions of his master could save him. These are pangs of which onlythose who have the generous sensibility to feel them can have anyidea. But they are true to the noble nature of which the inspiredpage speaks when it says, "The just man is merciful to his beast. "--1822. 

The benignant master of the regretted Columbian steed was the lateSir R. K. Porter, the lamented brother of the yet surviving writer ofthe preceding note. --1845. ]

"To have had it in my power to serve the Count Sobieski is aprivilege of itself, " returned Mr. Hopetown. "I am proud of thatdistinction, to be called the friend of a man who all the worldhonors will be a title which John Hopetown may be proud of. "

Before the worthy merchant took his leave, he promised Thaddeus tosend Saladin to Grosvenor Square that evening, and accepted hisinvitation to meet him and Dr. Cavendish the following day at dinnerat Mr. Somerset's. 

 * * * * * * *

CHAPTER XLIX. 

 "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget hercunning. "

Lady Albina Somerset's arrival in London was greeted by the immediatevisits of all the persons in town who had been esteemed by the lateCountess of Tinemouth, or on intimate terms with the baronet'sfamily. It was not the gay season for the metropolis. Amongst theearliest names that appeared at her door were those of LordBerrington, the Hon. Captain and Mrs. Montresor, and the Rev. Dr. Blackmore. Under any circumstances, either in the country or in town, Mr. Somerset and his young bride did not propose opening their gatesto more general acquaintances until Miss Beaufort and the count weremarried, and both bridal parties had been presented at court in thespring. To this little select group of friends who were to assembleround Mr. Somerset's table on the appointed day, Thaddeus informedhim, with frank pleasure, that he had taken the liberty of adding Dr. Cavendish and Mr. Hopetown of Dantzic. 

Lady Albina received the two strangers with graceful hospitality. Theaffianced Mary, with an equally blushing grace, presented her hand tothe generous protector of Saladin, accompanying the action with amodest acknowledgment of her interest in an animal so deservedly dearto the Count Sobieski. He had turned to meet Lord Berrington and theever lively Sophia Egerton (now Mrs. Montresor), who both advanced tohim at the same instant, to express their gratulations not only atseeing him again, but in a situation of happy promise, so consonantto his avowed rank and personal early fame. 

Thaddeus replied to their felicitations with a smiling dignity inthat ingenuous manner peculiarly his own. He was not a littlesurprised when Dr. Blackmore soon after recognized him to be thenoble foreigner whose appearance had so much excited his attention, about a twelvemonth ago, at the Hummuins, in Covent Garden. The countdid not recollect the circumstance of having seen the good doctorthere; but the venerable man recapitulated the scene in the coffee-room through which the count had passed, describing, with no littleanimation, "a pedantic mannered person, dressed in black, and wearingspectacles (whose name he afterwards learned was Loftus), an M. A. Ofone of the colleges, who took the liberty to make some not veryliberal remarks on the number of noble strangers then confidingthemselves to the honorable sanctuary and sympathy of our country. "

Pembroke could hardly hear the benevolent speaker to the end;stifling any audible expression of his re-awakened indignation, hewhispered to the baronet, "My dear father! recent happy events havemade us almost forget that villain's baseness; but I pray, let himnot remain another week a blot upon our house's escutcheon. "

"All shall be done as you wish, " returned his father, in the samesubdued tone; "but let us remember how much of that recent happinessthe goodness of Providence hath brought out of this wretched man'soffence. Were I extreme to mark what is done amiss, how could I abidethe sentence that might be justly pronounced against myself? To-morrow we will talk over this matter, and settle it, I trust, withsatisfaction to all parties. "

Pembroke gratefully pressed his father's hand, and then, walking upthe room, addressed Mrs. Montresor. In a few minutes her bravehusband joined them. While talking of his late victorious andhappily-completed homeward-bound voyage, he spoke with great regretof the threatened absence from England of his late colleague on thebattle-field of the ocean, his old friend Captain Ross. 

"How--whither is he going?" asked his wife, in a tone of interest. 

Montresor replied, "The ill state of Lady Sara's health requires amilder air, and poor Ross means to take her without loss of time toItaly. I met him this morning, in despair about the suddenness ofsome alarming symptoms. "

Thaddeus too well divined that this increased indisposition owed itsrise to his recent return to town, and inwardly petitioning Heaventhat absence and her husband's devoted tenderness might complete hercure, he could not repress a sigh, wrung from his respectful pitytowards her, in this deep bosom-struggle with herself. 

No one present except the future partner of his own heart marked thetransient melancholy which passed over his countenance. She, who hadsuspected the unhappy Lady Sara's attachment, loved Thaddeus, ifpossible, still dearer for the compassion he bestowed on the meekpenitence of the unhappy victim of a passion often as inscrutable asdestructive. 

When the party descended to dinner, Miss Dorothy, who sat next to theCount Sobieski, rallied him upon the utter desertion of one of hismost pertinacious allies or adversaries--she did not know which tocall the fair delinquent. "For admiring or detesting seemed quite thesame to some ladies, so they did but show their power of mischiefover any poor mortal man they found in their way!"

This strange attack, though uttered in perfect good humor by thelively old lady, following so closely the information relative toLady Sara Ross, summoned a fervid color into the count's face; helooked surprised, and rather confused, at the revered speaker, whosoon gayly related what she had been told that morning by hermilliner, of "Miss Euphemia Dundas being on the point of marriagewith a young Scotch nobleman in Berwickshire; and in proof, herelegant informant, Madame de Maradon, was making the bridal_trousseau. _"

"So much the better for all straight-going people, _ma cheretante_" cried Pembroke; "little Phemy was no contemptibleassailant either way. Besides, " added he, turning airily to his owngentle bride, "you, my young lady, may congratulate yourself on thesame good hope. I hear that an old turf-comrade of mine is going totake her loving sister off my hands. Come, Lord Berrington, you mustverify my report, for I learned it from you. "

His lordship smiled, and answered in the affirmative, adding that afriend of his in Lincolnshire, had written to him as most amusingnews, "That the most worthy Orson, heir of all the lands, tenements, stables, and kennels of the doughty Sir Helerand Shafto, of that ilk, and twenty ilks besides north of the Humber, had been discovered bythe wonderful occult penetration possessed by the exceedingly bluesorceress-lady Miss Diana Dundas (of as many ilks north of theTweed), to be no Orson at all; but her very veritable Valentine, towhom she was now preparing to give her fair and golden-garnished handin the course of the forthcoming month; that is, when the season ofhunting and shooting is past and gone, and the chase-wearied pair mayturn themselves, with their blown horses and hounds, to a littlewholesome rustication in their homestead fields. "

"I would not be their companion for Nebuchadnezzar's crown!"reiterated Pembroke, laughing. 

Sobieski, not suppressing the smile that played on his lips at thewhimsical description given by Lord Berrington's correspondent, wished the nuptials happy, as far as the parties could comprehend thefeeling. The viscount in return protested that their Polish friend"was more generous than just in such a benediction. "

"I vow to heaven, " cried his lordship, "that I never knew people theaim of whose lives seemed so bent on sly mischief as those twosisters. Euphemia, pretty as she is, is better known by her skill intormenting than by her beauty. And as for the poor squire Diana hasconjured into matrimony, I have little doubt of his future baitedfate when she springs her dogs of war upon that petted deer!"

"Ah, poor fool!" exclaimed Mrs. Montresor, "I warrant he will notescape the punishment he merits, for stepping between the goddess andher delectable Endymion, Lascelles. "

"Quarter for an old acquaintance!" whispered Miss Beaufort, in abeseeching voice. 

"She does not deserve it of you!" returned the lady, pursuing herridiculous game, until both Miss Dorothy and Sir Robert petitionedfor mercy from so fair a judge. 

Thaddeus, who possessed not the disposition to exult in themisconduct or mischances of any one who had injured him, felt thispart of the conversation the least pleasant on that happy day, and tochange its strain, he, in his turn, whispered to his father "toprevail on Lady Albina to indulge his friend Mr. Hopetown by singinga few passages from that beautiful ballad of the Scottish borders, 'Chevy Chase, ' which had so delighted their own family party thepreceding evening. "

He did not ask this "charmed resource" from his own betrothed, because it was only at the close of that very preceding evening hehad for the first time heard her voice, "in sweetest melody, "chanting forth the parting anthem for the night, "From the ends ofthe earth, I will call upon thee, O Lord, " and with tones of akindred pathos, too thrilling to a son's startled ear and memory, tobe invoked again in a mixed company. 

Strange, indeed, it might be, but it was a sacred balm to his soulwhen these recurring remembrances discovered to his heart in theyoung and lovely future partner of his life a bond of union with thatangelic mother who had given him being; and perhaps this devotedfilial heart alone could appreciate the joy, the comfort, the blissof such a similitude! But in after days he shared those feelings withhis father, bringing to his regretful bosom a soothing perception ofthe likeness. 

Lady Albina instantly complied, casting a sweet glance at Sir Robert, who immediately led her to the piano-forte, followed by the Scottishmerchant of the Baltic, whither the noble symphony of "The Douglas, ""hound and horn, " soon gathered the rest of the company. Theremainder of the evening passed away delightfully in the awakenedharmony. Mrs. Montresor joined Lady Albina in some touching Italianduets; Pembroke supported both ladies in a fine trio of Mozart's; Mr. Hopetown requested another favorite son of his country, "Auld RobinGray, " and himself repaid Lady Albina's kind assent by a magnificentvoluntary on his part, "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled. " Maryaccompanied that well known pibroch of "The Bruce" with a trueresponsive echo from her harp; but she declined singing herself, andwhen Thaddeus took the relinquished instrument from her hand, hepressed it with a silent tenderness, sweeter to her than could havebeen the plaudits of all the accomplished listeners around. That softhand had stroked the branching neck of his recovered Saladin the samemorning, and the happy master now marked his feeling of the gentledeed. 

In the course of a few days, Pembroke's wishes with regard to Mr. Loftus were put into a train of fulfilment, Dr. Blackmore havingundertaken to find a fitting tutor for the young Lord Avon, and inthe interim would receive him into his own classical instruction, whenever it should be deemed proper to terminate his present holidayvisit in Bedfordshire. But whilst Sir Robert had thus adjudged theguilty, he was careful not to expose him to fresh temptations, nor tosuffer his crimes to implicate the innocent in its punishment. Hence, in pity to age and helplessness, he determined to settle two hundredpounds per annum on the wretched man's mother and sisters, who dwelttogether in Wales. Shortly after, in consequence of his contriteconfessions, "that all Mr. Somerset's allegations against him weretoo true, " the humane father and son appointed one hundred poundsmore to be paid yearly to the culprit himself, so that at least hemight not be induced to lighten his honest labors for a suitablesubsistence by renewed villanies. With reference to the benefice ofSomerset, which had been the ill-sought price of this base pretenderto sanctity and truth, Sir Robert decided on presenting it to theexemplary Dr. Blackmore whenever it should become vacant. 

Meanwhile, the baronet's sojourn in town became indispensablyprolonged, not only by the simple nature of the affairs that broughthim thither, but by certain unlooked-for intricacies occurring inmaking a final adjustment of the various settlements and consequentconveyances to be effected on account of the two felicitous marriagesin his family. During these lingering proceedings amongst the legalprotectors of "soil and surety, " Miss Beaufort remained the cherishedand cheering guest of the already espoused pair, one of whom, indeed, still wore the garb of "a mourning bride, " but all within was clad inthe true white robe of nuptial purity and peace. Sobieski was the nowno less privileged abiding inmate in the home and heart of Sir RobertSomerset. Increasing daily in favor with "good aunt Dorothy, " thepresiding mistress of his father's house, he soon became nearly asprecious in her sight as had long been the pleasant society of hernephew Pembroke. And all this her ingenuous and affectionate natureavowed to Mary, in their frequent visits between the two houses, witha sort of delighted wonder at her heart's so prescient recognition ofthe new nephew her sweet niece was to bestow upon her. For it had notyet been revealed to her that Thaddeus did stand in that same tenderrelationship to her by a former marriage of her beloved brother withthe lamented mother of the noble object of her cherished esteem. Andwhat was the double joy of the blessed moment when that happy secretwas confided to her bosom. 

The last busy month of autumn in London had not only laid down itswearied head under the dark canopy of a murky atmosphere, lit withdimmed street-lamps to its slumbers, but its expected refreshment inthe country did not offer much more agreeable materials for reposeand vernal renovation. There were blustering winds strewing therecently green earth with beds of withered leaves of every foliage, stripped and fallen from the shivering woods above. And there weredrenching rains, laying the lately pleasant fields in tracklessswamps, and swelling the clear and gentle brooks into brawlingfloods, rending asunder the long-remembered rustic bridges which hadhitherto linked the villages together, in convenient passages forwholesome relaxation or useful toil. 

Such were the newspaper accounts from the country during the latterpart of November; but there was seen a fairer prospect from thecarriage windows of Sir Robert Somerset, when he and his gladdenedparty, one bright morning, on quitting the splashy environs ofHammersmith and Brentford, entered the broad expanse of HounslowHeath, on their way into Warwickshire, and beheld its wide commoncovered with a fair carpet of spotless snow. Winter had thenseriously, or, rather, smilingly, set in. It was the 10th ofDecember; and the baronet, having signed and sealed all thingsnecessary to transfer with perfect satisfaction himself and family(as was always his custom at this homeward season), now set forth toone or other of his ancient domains, to pass his Christmas in thebosom of an enlarged and a grateful domestic happiness. Thus, yearafter year, he diffused from each of those parental mansions thatbounteous hospitality to high and low which he considered to be anespecial duty in an English gentleman, whether in the character of"landlord" to noble guests and respected neighbors, or to wayfaringstrangers passing by; or, while graciously mingling with his widely-established tenantry, or his equally regarded daily guests at this"holy festival, " the virtuous, lowly peasantry, laborers on the land. Then smiled the cottager, with honest consciousness of yeoman worth, when seated in the great hall, under the eye of his munificent lord, who partook of the general feast. Then, too, did he smile when, atthe head of his own little board, he sat with his children andhumbler dependents, all furnished with ample Christmas fare by thebaronet's still open hand. 

When Thaddeus shared these primeval scenes of old England by the sideof his British parent, (which festivities are still honorablypreserved by some of its most ancient and noblest families, ) theybrought back to his heart those similar assemblages at Villanow andin Cracovia, where his revered grandfather, the palatine, had reignedprince and father over every happy breast. [Footnote: The writerremembers a similar scene to the above when she had the honor ofdining, along with her revered family, on a festival of harvest-homeat Bushy Palace, when its royal owner, his late majesty, was Duke ofClarence. Himself moved through his rustic guests in the graciousmanner described. ]

And happy were now the recollections of all who met at Deerhurst onthis their first joyful Christmas season! Week after week glidedalong in the bland exercise of social duties aided by the morehomefelt enjoyments of sweet domestic affections, which gave a livinggrace to all that was said or done and more intimately knit heartstogether, never more to be divided. 

But winter's howling blasts and sheltering halls, "where firesidecomforts, taste, and gentle love, with soft amenities mingled intobliss, " swiftly and fairer, changed their pleasant song, proclaimingin every brightening hue the hymn of nature--

 "These, as they change, Almighty Father! Are but the varied God! The rolling year Is full of Thee! Forth in the pleasing spring Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love;"

and in the first month of that genial season, when the young grasscovers the downy hills with verdure, and the glowing branches of thetrees bud with an infant foliage, the sun smiles in the heavens, andthe pellucid streams reflect his glorious rays, the day was fixed bySir Robert Somerset, and approved by the beloved objects of his thenpeculiar solicitude, in which his paternal hand should plight theirstogether before the altar of eternal truth. 

The solemnity was to be performed in the village church, which stoodin the park of Deerhurst, and the Rev. Dr. Blackmore, who came overfrom his own private dwelling in Worcestershire, accompanied by hispupil, Lord Avon, vas to perform the holy rite. No adjunct of theRoman Catholic ceremony (then the national church of Poland) wasneedful fully to legalize it. Thaddeus from his infancy had beenreared in the Protestant faith, the faith of his mother, whose ownmother was a daughter of the staunch Hussite race of the princelyZamoiski, who still professed that ancient, simple creed of theircountry. It was also the national faith of him who had givenTherese's son being; therefore, to the same pure doctrine ofChristianity had she dedicated his deserted child; and should theyever meet again, she believed it must be before the throne of DivineMercy; and there she trusted to present their solitary offspring withthe sacred words--"Here I am, Lord, and the child thou didst giveme. "

But to return to the marriage-day itself. The hour having arrived inwhich the soul-devoted Mary Beaufort was to resign herself and herearthly happiness into the power of the only man to whom, having oncebeheld and known him, she could ever have committed them, shepronounced her vows at the sacred altar with unsteadiness of tonguebut with a fixed heart. And when, after embracing all the fondkindred so long dear to her, and now to him, and having receivedtheir parting blessings within the walls of her ever-cherished home, --sweet, while familiar Deerhurst, --she was driven rapidly through itsgates, while a mixed and awed emotion agitated her breast. Butimmediately she felt the supporting arm of her husband gentlypressing her trembling form; and so, with all that husband's tendersympathy, the hours glided away unperceived, till the august towersof her own native domain appeared on the evening horizon, and soonafterwards she alighted at the mansion itself, having passed along acentral avenue of ancient oaks amid the congratulatory cheers of alarge assemblage of her tenantry on horseback and on foot, planted oneach side, to bid a glad welcome to their "liege lady and her lord. "

Within the great entrance of the baronial hall, winch opened to herby the immediate raising of a massive brazen portcullis, the ancientinsignia of the Beaufort name, she received the joyful obeisance ofthe old domestics of her honored parents, hailing her, their beloveddaughter, with a humble ardor of affection that bathed her enrapturedface with filial tears. Thaddeus felt the scene in his ownrecollective heart. 

Next morning Mrs. Robson and the delighted Nanny (dressed in a whitefrock for the blissful occasion), on being brought into thecountess's private saloon, threw themselves at the feet of theirbenefactors and sobbed forth their happiness. The still more happySobieski raised them in his arms, and, embracing both, accosted theold lady as he would have done a revered relative, and theaffectionate little girl like an adopted child. 

The same day the vicar of Beaufort, whose large rural parish extendedfrom the Castle to several miles around, rode to the gate, and wasannounced by name (the Rev. Mr. Tillotson), to pay his pastoral dutyto his future noble neighbors and sacred charge, the owners of theland. 

"His is a good name, " observed Mary, with a gracious smile; "it wasborne by one of the brightest luminaries of our Protestant church, Archbishop Tillotson, whose works you will find in the familylibrary, now your own. And his descendant, the revered late vicar, christened me in the dear old church of the adjacent village, towhich we go to-morrow, Sunday. Oh, how much have I to bless Heavenfor in that holy place!" she tenderly ejaculated. "You, kneeling bymy side there--one faith, one heart, one death, one salvation. O, myhusband, I am blessed indeed!"

"My Mary, in earth and heaven!" was his soul's response, and with thewords he pressed her fervently-clasped hands with a hallowed emotionto his lips. 

In a few minutes after this she led the way to the ancient library, tapestried with family portraits, and furnished with book-cases ofevery past generation. Thither the young vicar, a truly worthysuccessor to his pious father, had been conducted; and there, beingintroduced by the countess (who had seen him only once before) to herlord, they found him not merely a clergyman to be respected, but anaccomplished general scholar and a polished man. [Footnote: Over thegate-like arch of the library door had been erected, by a recentorder from the gentlest hand now within its walls, a simple butexquisitely-carved escutcheon, showing the armorial bearing of theancient and royal house of Sobieski--a crowned buckler, with thefamily motto, "God is the shield that covers me. "]

Thus was Thaddeus, the long-cherished orphan of a broken paternalvow, by a wondrous providence established in his new Britishcharacter--a husband, and an owner of large estates in the soil. Andhe soon became fully sensible to the double commission devolved uponhimself. Whether as a son of Poland, in right of the life he haddrawn from his mother's bosom, or as one equally claimed by England, in right of his paternal parent, he was well prepared to faithfullyfulfil their relative duties, with a zeal to each respondent to theimportant privileges and blessings of so signal a lot. In two shortpreceding years he had indeed passed through a host of severe trials;but in all he had been supported by an Almighty hand, and under thesame gracious trust he now looked forward to a long Sabbath ofhallowed peace, and of grateful service to Him who bestowed it. 

He had met it at Deerhurst, when under his father's roof; hemaintained it at Beaufort, the seat of his most continuous residence;nor did he neglect its duties at Manor Court, Sir Robert's parentalgift, and his own near neighborhood. And when the time came round forthe family to revisit London, his pleasures there were of a characterto correspond with his pursuits in the country, the happiness ofothers being the source of his own enjoyments. 

CHAPTER L. 

"We are brethren!"

After the termination of the Count Sobieski's first Easter passedwith the beloved of his soul in the home of her ancestors, theyproceeded together to join Sir Robert Somerset, and their kind auntMiss Dorothy, in Grosvenor Square, to become again his welcomeguests, and always thereafter when in town, while Heaven prolongedtheir lives to renew the cherished reunion at each succeeding season. 

Thus it was that, immediately subsequent to the holy festival, thenow revered Lord of Beaufort cheerfully obeyed his father's summonsto London, where he found Pembroke and Lady Albina already resettledin their former residence. Having ere long met the gratulatory callsof his metropolitan friends, he daily beheld his lovely bride--lovelyin mind as in person--becoming more and more "the worshipped cynosureof neighboring eyes;" not only adorning the highest circles ofsociety, but filling his home with all the ineffable charms of awedded life, inspired by the gentle graces of domestic tenderness. 

One balmy evening in May, when he and his young countess were drivingout alone together, which they sometimes did, that she might have thedelight of showing to him the varied rural environs of the great andgay royal city of England, the carriage, by her direction, took itscourse towards Primrose Hill, then crowned by a grove of "fair elm-trees, " and clothed with a vesture of green sward, enamelled withwild flowers. Thence the light vehicle threaded a maze of shady lanesand pleasant field-paths, into a rustic, newly-made road, leading alittle to the north of Covent Garden. [Footnote: All this has sincebecome Regent's Park and its dependencies, whether streets orsquares. ]

Mary proposed stopping a few minutes in that magnificent generalgarden of the town, to purchase a bouquet of early roses, to presentto Sir Robert on their return from their drive. 

When the carriage drew up at the entrance of the great parterre, shestepped out to select them. Having quickly combined their fragrantbeauties, she put the nosegay into the hand of one of the servants toplace on the seat. Being nigh the church porch, she suddenlyexpressed a wish to her husband, on whose arm she leaned, to walkthrough the church-yard, and that the carriage should meet them atthe opposite gate. 

Thaddeus, not being aware that this porch belonged to the churchwhere his veteran friend had been buried, gave instant assent; andbefore he had time to make more than a few remarks on the purereligious architecture of the building, which he thought hadattracted his tasteful bride to take a nearer view, she had led himunconsciously to the general's grave. But it was no longer the sameas when Sobieski last stood by its side. A simple white marble tombnow occupied the place of its former long grass and yarrow. Surprised, he bent forward, and read with brimming eyes the followinginscription:--

 1795-6. Stop, Traveller! Thou treadest on a Hero. Here rest the mortal remains of LIEUTENANT-GENERAL BUTZOU, Late of the Kingdom of Poland. A faithful soldier to his Lord and to his country! He sleeps in Faith and Hope!

Thaddeus for a moment felt as he did when he beheld those "mortalremains" laid there. But his own faith in that hope which consecratedthis mortality to an immortal resurrection had then silently spreadthe balm of its full assurance overall those remembered pangs; andnow, without speaking, he led his also pensive and tremulouscompanion to her carriage, where it awaited them, and seating herwithin it, clasped her to his breast. His tears, no longerrestrained, poured those sweet pledges of a soul-felt approbationinto her bosom that made it even ache with excess of happiness. Butwhile the grateful voice of her husband was beginning to breathe itsuttered thanks, he found the carriage stop again, in a street not fardistant from the one they had just quitted. It drew up at the door ofa handsome house, of an apparently contemporary structure with thechurch. It was the rectory of St. Paul's, Covent Garden and at itsportal stood the reverend incumbent, evidently awaiting to receivehis guests. 

Thaddeus perceived him, and also the welcome of his position; so didhis gentle wife, who with a blushing smile explained all thealterations he had observed on the respected grave, avowing that theyhad been done at her devoted wish, and were effected by the kindagency of that venerable man, the rector of the church, the HonorableBruce Fitz-James. She then timidly added, (and how beautiful in thattimidity!) she had something more to confess; she had ventured, afterobtaining permission of the rector for the erection of the monument, to see it once during its progress, and then to promise him that onits completion her honored husband, the Count Sobieski, whoseparental friend that noble dead had been, would, when she revealedher secret to him, pay a personal visit along with herself to herbeneficent coadjutor, and duly express their united gratitude. Shehad scarcely spoken her rapid information, when its courteous objectdescended the portal to approach the carriage. His hat was taken off, and the snow-white hair, blown suddenly by a gust of wind across hisbenign brow, a little obscured his face, while he conducted the ladyfrom the carriage up the steps of his door. But Sobieski found nodifficulty in recognizing the time-blanched locks, which had beenwetted by the weeping heavens in that hour of his lonely sorrow, whilst committing to the dust the remains of him whose sacredmemorial he had just contemplated, raised by a wife's clear hand. 

With these recollections had arisen the image of the pale, delicately-formed boy who had gazed so compassionately into his eyeswhile taking as he thought his last look at that humble grave; andwith this bland recurrence came also the almost closing words of thesolemn service, seeming again to proclaim to his heart, "I heard avoice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, From henceforth blessed arethe dead who die in the Lord!"

With calmed feelings and perfectly recovered self-possession, Thaddeus now followed his beloved wife (his solace and his joy), ledby her delighted host, into the bright-panelled parlor of therectory, where the mutual introduction instantly took place. 

The beneficent old man, with a polished sincerity, declared his highgratification at this visit from the Count Sobieski, brought to himby the gracious lady who so deservedly shared his illustrious name. Thaddeus, with his usual modest dignity, received the impliedcompliment, and expressed his just sense of the deep obligationconferred on him and his countess by the last consecrated rite to thememory of his most revered friend. 

Mary was then seated on an old-fashioned silk-embroidered settee, opposite to the flower-latticed bay-window of the apartment. Therector, with a courteous bow, which in his youth would have beencalled graceful, as if confident of a permitted privilege, placedhimself beside her, while observing to her lord, in reply to theseunfeigned thanks, that, "the reported name alone of the veteranpatriot who lay there had not ceased from the day of his interment toattract, shrine-like, the pilgrim feet of many persons to the spotwho respected and bewailed the fate of Poland. "

Sobieski's cheek flushed and his eye kindled at this testimony. Tochange a subject which he found wrought too powerfully on therecently-regained serenity of his mind, he affectionately inquiredfor the amiable boy he had seen take so touching an interest in themournful errand to the church-yard on that ever-remembered day, andwho, like a ministering seraph, had so guardingly watched the exposedhead of his revered master, under the pitiless element then pouringdown. 

"He is my nephew, " returned the rector, in a tone of tenderness:"Lord Edward Fitz-James. He is in delicate health; the youngest sonof my eldest brother, the Marquis Fitz-James, who married late inlife. Edward is, indeed, what he appears, a spirit of innocent, happylove, or of condoling commiseration, wherever his gentle footstepsmove. And when I rejoin him this autumn, at his father's house inScotland, and shall tell him that the never-forgotten chief mournerat that simple bier, with whom his own young tears fell inspontaneous sympathy, was the Count Sobieski--a kinsman of his own, whose character was already known to him in its youthful fame and byits honored name--what will be that meek child's exulting ecstasy!"

"A kinsman of that noble boy!" echoed Thaddeus, in surprise. "How mayI flatter myself it can be so?"

Mary simultaneously uttered an amazed ejaculation of pleasure at theidea of any real relationship between that venerable man and herself;and he, with an answering look of kindred respect on both theastonished husband and his bride, replied to the former with theunstudied brevity of truth. 

"A few sentences will explain it, for I consider it unnecessary toremind my present auditors of two great events in their respectivecountries. First, with regard to England; the change of royalsuccession in the Stuart line, from the branch of which James theSecond was the head, to that of Brunswick-a backward step, originating in Elizabeth of Bohemia, the daughter of James the First, and therefore, the aunt of James the Second. At the height of theseeventful circumstances, the offended sovereign retired with hisexemplary queen and their infant son to the continent. There theroyal boy continued to be styled, by his father's adherents, JamesPrince of Wales, but in the general world was usually known by thecognizance of the Chevalier St. George. 

"This is the first link in our bracelet, noble lady!" observed thenarrator, with a smile, and then proceeded. "I now advance to mysecond part, the crisis of which took place in Poland, about the sameperiod. At the death of the great John Sobieski, King of Poland, thefather of his people, there arose a deep-rooted conspiracy in certainneighboring states, jealous of his late power and glorious name, determining to undermine the accession of his family to the throne;and they found an apt soil to work on in a corresponding feelingready to break out amongst some of the most influential nobles of therealm. Foreign and domestic revolutionists soon understand eachother; and the dynasty of Sobieski being speedily overturned by thedouble treason of pretended friends and false allies, his threeprincely sons withdrew from occasioning the dire conflict of a civilwar, two into distant lands, the other to the ancestral patrimony, inprovinces far from the intrigues of ambition or the temptation of itstreacherous lures. 

"The two elder brothers, in a natural indignation against the popularingratitude, took the expatriating destination. But Constantine, theyoungest born, with the calm dignity of a son without other desiredinheritance than the honor of such a parent, retired to the tranquilseclusion of the castled domain of Olesko, the ancient fortifiedpalace of his progenitors, on the Polish border of Red Russia; andthere, in philosophic quiet, he passed his blameless days withscience and the arts, and in deeds of true Christian benevolence-thepurport of his life. This respected seclusion was ultimately sweetlycheered when "woman smiled" upon it, in the form of a fair daughterof a neighboring magnate in the adjacent province, whose nobleretirement, sharing the same patriotic principles with those ofConstantine, yielded to the young philosopher a lovely helpmate forhim. 

"Prince James, his eldest brother, had meanwhile married a sister oftheir early associate in arms, the brave Charles of Newburg, whenunder the royal banner of Sobieski, in the memorable field of Vienna. Alexander, the second son, also met with a distinguished bride inGermany. Both princes were accomplished and handsome men; but one ofour countrymen, contemporary and family physician to the late king, familiarly describes them in his curious reminiscences, thus:--'Hismajesty possessed a fine figure; he was tall and graceful. Thenobleness and elevation of his soul were deeply depicted in hiscountenance and air. Prince James is dark-complexioned, slender inperson, and more like a Spaniard than a Pole; he is very social, courteous and liberal. Alexander is of more manly proportions, and ofa true Sarmatian physiognomy. But Constantine is an exact likeness ofthe king, his father. '" [Footnote: The writer of this note has seen amagnificent picture of that glorious king, a full length, the statureof life. It was nobly painted by an artist of the period. ]

"And such was my ever-revered grandsire, his only son!" responded theheart of Thaddeus, but he did not utter the words. Meanwhile, theenthusiastic historiographer of a period he was so seldom called totouch on proceeded without a pause. 

"In process of time, one fair scion from this illustrious stockbecame engrafted on our former royal stem. I mean her highness theLady Clementina, the daughter of Prince James of Poland, who, afterhis rejection of all foreign aid to re-establish him in his father'skingdom, had, like the abdicated monarch of England, gone about aresigned pilgrim, 'seeking a better country, ' till the two familiesauspiciously met, to brighten each other's remainder of earthlysojourn at St. Germains, in France. Then came the 'sweet bindwith, 'the royal maid, the Prince Sobieski's beauteous daughter, to give hernuptial hand to the only son of the exiled king; and so, mostremarkably, was united the equally extraordinary destinies of theregal race of the heroic John Sobieski with that of our anointedwarrior, Robert Bruce, in the person of his princely descendant, James Fitz-James, in diplomatic parlance styled the Chevalier de St. George; and from that blended blood, and by family connection, sprungfrom the same branching tree, I feel sanguinely confident that theclaim I have set up for myself and gentle nephew, whose kindredspirit the warm heart of the Count Sobieski has already acknowledged, will not be deemed an old man's dream. "

A short silence ensued. 

Thaddeus had been riveted with an almost breathless attention to thispart of the narrative, some of its public circumstances having founda dim recollection in his mind; but his apprehensive mother hadalways turned him aside from any line in his historical reading whichmight particularly engage his ever-wakeful interest to the chivalrousnation of his own never-avowed parentage, and from which a father'sdesertion had expatriated him even before his birth. But now, howample had been the atonement, the restitution, to this forsaken son?

Not being able to express any of the kindled feelings this narrationhad suggested, added to the daily increasing claims the blessing ofsuch an atonement were hourly making on his best affections, he couldonly grasp the hand of the venerated speaker with a fervent pressurewhen he ceased. But Mary, irradiating smiles, the emanating light ofher soul then at her Maker's feet, gently breathed her ardentfelicitations at what she had just heard, which had indeedestablished her kindred with the venerated friend whose kindness hadmet her so unreservedly as a stranger. 

When the little party so signally brought together, to becomemutually entwined, as if already known to each other for yearsinstead of minutes, --when they became composed, after the excitedemotions of the disclosure had subsided, the reverend host, nowconsidering the count and countess rather as young cousins to behonored than as guests to be entertained, conversed awhile moreparticularly with regard to the marquis and his family, and finallyaccepted, with declared pleasure, the earnest invitation of hisgladly responsive new relatives to accompany them the following day, when they would call for him in their carriage, to dine with theirdearest guardian and parental friend, Sir Robert Somerset. 

"He is my Mary's maternal uncle, " remarked Thaddeus, with a calmemphasis, "and has been to me as a father in this her adopted land. Ifound a brother, also, in his admirable son, Mr. Somerset, whom, withhis young bride, you will meet to-morrow at Sir Robert's familytable. Hence, my revered kinsman, you see what England still does inher kind bosom for a remnant of the race of Sobieski. "

The appointed hour next day arrived. The count called for his friend, who was ready at the door of the rectory mansion, and, after muchinteresting conversation during the drive, conducted him into thepresence of the baronet. Sir Robert greeted his guest in perfectharmony with the filial eloquence of Sobieski, in describing hisadopted father's ever-gracious heart, and consequent benignantmanners. Thaddeus had repeated to Sir Robert the revealments ofyesterday's visit to the honorable and reverend rector of St. Paul's, which had so stirringly mingled with his own most cherished memories. 

The cordial reception thus given to the revered narrator gratifiedhim, as a full repayment for his imparted confidence of the daybefore, though he could not be aware of the real paternal fountainfrom which these warm welcomes flowed. But Thaddeus recognized it inevery word, look, and act of his beloved father, and with his motherin his heart, he appreciated all. 

Dr. Cavendish and Dr. Blackmore had been added to the party. Sincereesteem, with an ever-grateful recollection of the past, always spreadthe board of Sobieski for the former, whenever he might have leisureto enrich it with his highly intellectual store. Dr. Blackmore hadarrived the preceding evening with Lord Avon, grown a fine youth, topass a few days with his patron and friend, Sir Robert Somerset, onhis way to transfer his noble charge to the tutorage of the fullycompetent, though young, vicar of Beaufort, Mr. Tillotson. Lord Avonwas to reside in the vicarage, but would also possess the constantpersonal care of his friends at the Castle, and a home invitation tovisit there, with his accomplished tutor, whenever it should beagreeable to Mr. Tillotson to bring him. 

The rector of St. Paul's and the recently inducted rector of Somerset(whither he was proceeding after he should have deposited his younglordship at Beaufort) were respectively introduced to each other--worthy brethren in the pure church they were equally qualified tosupport and to adorn. 

When dinner was announced, the Rev. Bruce Fitz-James received thehand of the cheerful Miss Dorothy to lead her down. She had given hima frank greeting of relationship on his being presented to her, asmistress of her brother's house, on his first entrance into thedrawing room. During the social repast, much elegant and intellectualconversation took place, and promises were solicited, both then andafter the banquet, by the members of the family group from theirseveral guests for visits at the seasons most pleasant to themselves, to Deerhurst, to Somerset, and to Beaufort. The venerable Fitz-Jamesand his young nephew were particularly besought by Thaddeus and hisMary, who anticipated a peculiar delight in becoming intimatelyacquainted with that interesting boy. Lord Avon they hoped mightprove a companionable attraction to the latter. 

The invitations were cordially accepted, the paternal uncle of theyoung Lord Edward not doubting the ready approbation of his brother, the marquis. And it was arranged that both at Beaufort and atDeerhurst the whole of the baronet's family group should beassembled, including Mr. Somerset and his gentle lady, whose placidgraces moved round his ever sparkling vivacity with a softly-tempering shade. 

Thus, day after day, week after week, while continuing in town, timepassed on in the alternate interchanges of domestic tranquillity andthe active exercises of those duties to society in general, and tothe important demands of public claims on the present stations of theseveral individuals on whom such calls were made. 

Nor in the country, when returned to their separate dwelling-places, did the same happy and honorable routine cease its genial round. Pembroke's most stationary residence was Somerset Castle, hisfather's beneficent representative, whose favorite home wasDeerhurst. And thus mutually endeared, and worthy of their Heaven-bestowed stewardship, we leave the family of Sir Robert Somerset. 

We leave Thaddeus Sobieski, now one of its most beloved members, blessed in the fruition of every earthly good. The virtues, themuses, and the charities were the chosen guests at his abundanttable. Poverty could not veil genius from his penetration, normisfortune obscure the inborn light of its integrity. Though exiledfrom his native land, where his birth gave him dominion over richterritories, now in the hands of strangers, and a numerous happypeople, now no more, he had not yet relinquished the love of empire. But it was not over principalities and embattled hosts that hedesired to prolong the sceptre of command. He wished to reign in thesoul. His throne was sought in the hearts of the good, the kind, themen of honest industry, and the unfortunate, on whom prosperity hadfrowned. In fact, the unhappy of every degree and nation foundconsolation, refuge, and repose within the sheltering domains ofBeaufort. No eye looked wistfully on him to turn away disappointed;his smiles cheered the disconsolate, and his protecting arms wardedoff, when possible, the approach of new sorrows. "Peace was withinhis walls, and plenteousness within his palaces. "

And when a few eventful months of the succeeding year haddistinguished its course with the death of the imperious destroyer ofPoland, and General Kosciusko (having been set at liberty by hergenerous successor, and honorably empowered to go whither he willed)had arrived in England on his way to the United States, he sought andfound Thaddeus, his young comrade in the fields of Poland, and washailed with the warmest welcome by that now indeed truly "comforted"brave and last representative of the noble race and name of the gloryof his country, the more than once Gideon-shield of Christendom--JohnSobieski. 

"Ah, my chief!" cried he, while he clasped the veteran to his breast, "I am indeed favored above mortals. I see thee again, on whom Ibelieved the gates of a ruthless prison had closed forever! I haveall that remains of my country now within my arms. Kosciusko, myfriend, my father, bless your son!"

Kosciusko did bless him, and embalmed the benediction with a showerof tears more precious than the richest unction that ever flowed on aroyal head. They were drawn from a Christian soldier's heart--a truepatriot and a hero. 

Sobieski presented his lovely wife to this illustrious friend, andwhile he gratefully acknowledged the rare felicity of his ultimatefate, he owned that the retrospection of the past calamity, like ashade in a picture, gives to our present bliss greater force andbrightness. But that such felicity was his, he could only ascribe tothe gracious providence of God, who "trieth the spirit of man, " andcan bring him to a joy on earth even like unto a resurrection fromthe dead. And the conclusion is not even then; "there remaineth yet abetter life, and a better country for those who trust in the Lord ofearth and heaven!"

APPENDIX. 

NOTES

CHIEFLY RELATING TO GENERAL KOSCIUSKO. 

NOTES

The writer prefaces these notes with the following dedicatory tributeshe inscribed to the memory of this illustrious chief in a former butsubsequent edition, some years after the first publication of thework. It runs thus:--

THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 

THIS TENTH EDITION IS HUMBLY AND AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO THEMEMORY OF THE LATE JUSTLY REVERED AND RENOWNED

General Thaddeus Kosciusko. 

"The spirit of war between nation and nation, and between man and manin those nations, for public supremacy on the one side and privateaggrandizement on the other, being still as much the character of thetimes as in the days when the preceding biographical tale of Polandwas written, the author continues to feel the probable consequencesof such a crisis in forming the future principles of manly Britishyouth--a feeling which was the origin of the work itself. 

"Its direct aim being to draw a distinguishing line between thespirit of true patriotism and that of ambitious public discontent, --between real glory, which arises from benefits bestowed, and thefalse fame of acquired conquests, which a leader of banditti has asmuch right to arrogate as would the successful invader of kingdoms, --the character of General Kosciusko, under these views, presenteditself to the writer as the completest exemplar for such a picture. 

"Enthusiasm attempted to supply the pencil of genius, and though theportraiture be imperfectly sketched, yet its author has beengratified by the sympathy of readers, not only of her own people, butof those of distant nations; and that the principles of heroic virtuewhich she sought to inculcate in her narrative were pronounced by itsgreat patriot subject, in a letter he addressed to herself, 'asworthy of his approbation and esteem, ' seems, now that he is removedfrom all earthly influence, to sanction her paying that honest homageto his memory which delicacy forbade her doing while he lived. 

"The first publication of this work was inscribed to a British hero, 'a land commander and a tar, ' whose noble nature well deserved thetitle bestowed upon it by his venerable sovereign, George III. , ('Coeur-de-Lion. ') He, a brother in spirit, fully appreciated thecharacter of Thaddeus Kosciusko, and the writer of this devotedtribute feels that she deepens the tints of honor on each name bythus associating them together. But may the tomb of the British herobe long in finding its place! That of the Polish patriot has alreadyreceived its sacred deposit, and with the sincere oblation of a notquite stranger's heart, this poor offering is laid on the grave ofhim who fought for 'his country's freedom, laws, and native king;'who, when riches and a crown were proffered to himself by the thendictator of almost all Europe, declined both, because no price couldbuy the independence of an honest man. 

"Such was General Kosciusko; such was the model of disinterestedness, of tempered valor, and of public virtue which his annalist sought toset forth in the foregoing pages; such was the man who honored theirnarrator with his approval and esteem! and in that last word shefeels a privilege, but with due humility, to thus link some littlememorial of herself to after times, by so uniting to the name ofThaddeus Kosciusko that of his humble but sincere aspirer to suchthemes, "JANE PORTER. 

 "LONG-DITTON ON-THAMES, September, 1819. "

Since the above inscription was first written and inscribed in theformer edition, the brave and benign "Christian knight, " the Coeur-de-Lion of our own times, has also been gathered to the tears of hiscountry, and his monumental statue, as if standing on the victoriousmount of St. Jean d'Acre, is now preparing to be set up, with itsappropriate sacred trophies, in the great Naval Hall at Greenwich. Itis understood that his mortal remains will be removed from the Perela Chaise in Paris, where they now lie, to finally rest in St. Paul'sCathedral, where Nelson sleeps. Kosciusko's tomb is at Cracow, theancient capital of Poland; and in the manner of its most ancientstyle of sepulchre, it appears an immense earthen tumulus, piled overthe simple-mounded grave, which accumulating portions were severallyborne to their hallowed place in the arms alone of each silentmourner, in a certain number of successive days, till the whole wasraised into a grand pyramidal mass. 

In looking back through the avenue of life to those periods the taletells of, what events have occurred, public and private, to thecountries and the individuals referred to in these memoranda! topersons of lofty names and excellence, both in our own and in otherlands, mutually affected with admiration and regret for the virtuesand the calamities described. It is an awful contemplation, and insitting down in my now solitary chamber to its retrospection, I findthat nearly half a century has passed since its transactions sweptover Europe like a desolating blast. Then I wrote my little chroniclewhen the birthright independence of Poland was no more; when she layin her ashes, and her mighty men were trodden into the dust; when thepall of death overspread the country, and her widows and her orphanswandered afar into the trackless wilderness of a barren world. 

During this wide expatriation, some distinguished captives, who hadfallen in the field, and were counted among the slain, having beenfound by the victors alive in their stiffened blood, were conveyed tovarious prisons; and along with these was discovered the justlyfeared, and not less justly deplored, General Kosciusko, who, thoughlong unheard of by the lone wanderers of his scattered host, had beenthus preserved by the supreme Lord of all, to behold again a remnantof his own brightened in hope, and comforted by the honoring sympathyof the good and brave in many nations. 

Kosciusko was of noble birth, and early distinguished himself by hisspirit and talents for the martial field. Indeed, owing to thebelligerent position of Poland, situated in the midst of jealous andencroaching nations, arms was the natural profession of everygentleman in the kingdom, commerce and agriculture being the usualpursuits of the middle classes. But it happened, in the early manhoodof Thaddeus Kosciusko, that the dangerous political Stromboli whichsurrounded his country, and often aroused an answering blaze in thatsince devoted land, slept in their fires; and Poland being at peace, her young military students, becoming desirous of practising theirscience in some actual campaign, resolved to try their strengthacross the Atlantic. Hearing of the war then just commenced betweenthe British Colonies in America and the mother country, Kosciusko, asa deciding spirit amongst his ardent associates, brought them to thisresolution. Losing no time, they embarked, passed over the wide oceanof the Western world, and landing safe and full of their object, offered their services to the army of independence. Having beenreadily accepted, and immediately applied to use, the extraordinarywarrior talents of Kosciusko soon shone conspicuous, and werespeedily honored by his being appointed special aide-de-camp toGeneral Washington. His subsequent conduct in the camp and field wasconsonant to its beginning, and he became a distinguished general inrank and command long before his volunteered military services hadterminated. When the war ended, in the peace of mutual concessionsbetween the national parent and its children on a distant land, (apoint that is the duty of all Christian states to consider, and tomeasure their ultimate conduct by, ) the Poles returned to their owncountry, where they soon met circumstances which caused them to callforth their recently passed experience for her. But they had notdeparted from the newly-established American State withoutdemonstrations of its warm gratitude; and Koscuisko, in particular, with his not less popular compatriot and friend, Niemcivitz, thesoldier and the poet, bore away with them the pure esteem of thebrave population, the sighs of private friendship, and the tears ofan abiding regret from many fair eyes. 

To recapitulate the memorable events of the threatened royal freedomof Poland, by the three formidable foreign powers confederated forits annihilation, and in repelling which General Kosciusko took sogallant a lead, is not here necessary to connect our memorandaconcerning his unreceding struggles to maintain her politicalexistence. They have already been sketched in the preceding littlerecord of the actual scenes in which he and his equally devotedcompeers held their indomitable resistance till the fatal issue. "Sarmatia lay in blood!" and the portion of that once great bulwarkof civilized Europe was adjudged by the paricidal victors tothemselves: a sentence like unto that passed on the worst ofcriminals was thus denounced against Christendom's often bestbenefactor, while the rest of Europe stood silently by, paralyzed orappalled, during the immediate execution of the noble victim. 

But though dismembered and thrown out from the "map of nations" bythe combination of usurping ambition and broken faith, and no longerto be regarded as one in its "proud cordon, " Poland retained withinherself (as has been well observed by a contemporary writer) "a modeof existence unknown till then in the history of the world--adomestic national vitality. " Unknown, we may venture to say, exceptin one extraordinary yet easily and reverentially understoodinstance. We mean the sense of an integral national being, ever-living in the bosoms of the people of Israel, throughout all theirdifferent dispersions and captivities. And, perhaps, with respect tothis principle of a moral, political, and filial life, still drawingits aliment from the inhumed heart of their mother-country, who, tothem, "is not dead but sleepeth!" may be explained, in some degree, in reference to the above remark on the existing and individualfeeling amongst the wanderers of Poland, by considering some of thebest effects, latent in their "working together for good, " in thedeep experience of her ancient variously-constituted modes of civilgovernment. 

Under that of her early monarchs, the Piasts and their senate, shesat beneath an almost patriarchal sceptre, they being native andtruly parental princes. John Sobieski was one of this description bydescent and just rule. Under the Jagellon dynasty, also sprung fromthe soil, she held a yet more generalizing constitutional code, afterwhich she gradually adopted certain republican forms, with anelective king--a strange contradiction in the asserted object, asound system for political freedom, but which, in fact, contained thewhole alchemy of a nation's "anarchical life, " and ultimatelyproduced the entire destruction of the state. From the establisheddate of the elective monarchy, the kingdom became an arena for everyspecies of ambitious rivalry, and its sure consequences, theinterference of foreign influences; and hence rapidly advanced thedecline of the true independent spirit of the land, to stand in herlaws, and in her own political strength; her own impartial laws, thepalladium of the people and a native king the parental guardian oftheir just administration. But, in sad process of time, "strangers ofRome, of Gaul, and of other nations, " in whose veins not a drop ofSclavonian blood flowed, found means to successively seat themselveson the throne of the Piasts, the Jagellons, and the Sobieskis, ofancient Sarmatia; and the revered fabric fell, as by an earthquake, to be registered no more amongst the kingdoms of the world. 

THE EARLY EDUCATION OF KOSCIUSKO AND HIS COMPATRIOTS, WITH ITSSUBSEQUENT EFFECTS ON THE PRINCIPLES OF THEIR LIVES. 

Though their country appeared thus lost to them, they felt itskingdom still in their minds--in the bosom of memory, in theconsciousness of an ancestry of bravery and of virtue; and though thesoil had passed away from the feet of those whose ancestors of "swordor share" had trod it as sons and owners, and it now holds no placefor them but their fathers' graves, yet the root is deep in suchplanting, and the tree, though invisible to the world, is seen andnourished in the depths of their hearts by the dews of heaven. 

The pages of universal history, sacred and profane, ancient andmodern, when opened with the conviction that He who made the worldgoverns it also, will best explain the _why_ of these changes inthe destiny of nations; and within half of the latter part of thelast century, and the nearly half of the present, awful have been thepages to be read. Hence we may understand the vital influence of theobjects of education with regard to the principles inculcated, whether with relation to individual interest or to the generalizedconsideration of a people as a commonwealth or a kingdom. A kingdomand a commonwealth may be considered the same thing, when the powerof both people and king are limited by just laws, established by thelong exercised wisdom of the nation, holding the whole powers of thestate in equilibrium; and in this sense, meaning "a royalcommonwealth, " comprising, as in England, "kings, lords, andcommons, " it is generally believed is intended to be understood theterm, "The republic of Poland, with its king. "

The Polish nation, however, under all their dominions of government, usually partook something of the policies and manners of the thenexisting times. Yet they were always distinguished by a particularchivalry of character, a brave freedom from all foreign and domesticvassalage, and a generous disposition to respect and to assist theneighboring nations to maintain the same independence they themselvesenjoyed. Though actual schools, or colleges, or written lore, mightnot originally have had much to do with it, the continued practice ofold, well-formed customs held them in "the ways their fathers walkedin" and they found them those of "pleasantness" and true honor. Butthe time came when literary dictation was to take the place of oraltradition, and of habitual imitative reverence of the past. Schoolsand colleges were instituted, teaching for doctrines the prevailingsentiments of the endowers, or of the instructors employed. Duringthe reigns of the later sovereigns of the Jagellon dynasty, SigismundI. And II. , and that of their predecessor, John Sobieski, theprinciples of these seminaries might be considered sound. But soonafter the death of the last-named monarch, when the latent mischiefcontained in the Utopian idea of the perfection of an always electivemonarchy began to shake the stability of even the monarchy itself, certain of the public teachers evinced correspondent signs of thisdestructive species of freemasonry; and about the same period theVoltaire venom of infidelity against all the laws of God and manbeing poured throughout the whole civilized world, the general effecthad so banefully reached the seats of national instruction in Poland, that several of the most venerated personages, whose names havealready been, commemorated in the preceding biographical story, congregated together to stem, by a counteracting current, the torrentwhere they saw it likely to overflow; to sap up its introducedsources, by obtaining the abolition of some of the most subtle anddangerous of the scholastic institutions, and the establishment ofothers in their room, on the sound foundation of moral and religiouspolity between men and nations. 

The sole remaining princely descendants of the three just referredto, true patriot-monarchs, were the earliest awakened to resist thespirit of evil spreading amongst all classes in the nation. TheCzartoryski and the Zamoyski race, both of the Jagellon line, andnear kinsmen to the then newly raised monarch to the Polish throne, Stanislaus Poniatowski, appeared like twin stars over the darkenedfield, and the whole aspect of the country seemed speedily changed. Acontemporary writer bears record that one hundred and twenty-sevenprovincial colleges were founded, perfected, and supported by themand their patriotic colleagues; while the University of Vilna wasjudiciously and munificently organized by its prince palatine, AdamCzartoryski himself, and a statute drawn up which declared it "anopen high-school from the supreme board of public education for allthe Polish provinces. " Herein was every science exalting to thefaculties of man, and conducive to his sacred aspirations, seriouslyand diligently inculcated; and every principle of morality andreligion, purifying to his mixed nature, and therefore calculated toestablish him in the answering conduct, truth, justice, and loyalobedience to the hereditary revered laws of the nation, equallyinstilled, qualifying him to uphold them, and to defend their freedomfrom all offensive operations at home or abroad, intended to subvertthe purity of their code or the integrity of their administration. Such was the import of the implied vow on entering the university. 

Amongst the gallant youths brought up in such a school of publicvirtue was Thaddeus Kosciusko and the young Timotheus Niemcivitz, hisfriend from youth to age. Kosciusko, as has already been said, was ofnoble parentage; and to be the son of a Polish nobleman was to beborn a soldier, and its practical education, with sabre and lance, his daily pastime. But military studies were included in thesevarious colleges, and the friends soon became as mutually expert inarms as they ever after continued severally distinguished in thefields of their country with sword or lyre. Besides, neither of theyoung cavaliers passed quite away from their _alma mater_without having each received the completing accolade of "trueknighthood" by the stroke of "fealty to honor!" from the inauguratingsunbeam of some lovely woman's eye. Such befell the youthfulKosciusko, one bright evening, in a large and splendid circle of "thebeautiful and brave" at Vilna; and it never lessened its full rays inhis chivalric heart, from that hour devoted to the angel-like unknownwho had shed them on him, and who had seemed to doubly consecrate theardors of his soul to his country--her country--the country of all heloved and honored upon earth. How he wrought out this silent vow is astory of deep interest--equally faithful to his patriotic loyalty andto his ever-cherished love; and in some subsequent reminiscences ofthe hero, should the writer live to touch a Polish theme again, theymay be related with additional honor to his memory. 

Brief was the time after the preceding sealing scene of the youngKosciusko for his military vocation took place, before himself andhis friend Niemcivitz--who had also received his "anointing spell, "which he gayly declared came by more bright eyes than he would darewhisper to their possessors--made a joint arrangement to quit thestudy of arms, though thus cheered on by the Muses and the Graces, and at once enter the exercise in some actual field of rugged war. The newly-opened dispute between Great Britain and her colonies inNorth America seemed calculated for their honorable practice. Consulting some of their most respected friends, they speedily foundmeans to cross the seas, and shared the first great campaign underWashington. The issue of that campaign, and those which followed it, need not be repeated here; suffice it to say, the hard-fought contestended in a treaty of peace between the parent country and itscontumacious offspring, in the year 1783, with England'sacknowledgment of their independence, under the name of the UnitedStates of America. 

The two gallant Poles returned to Europe, and onward to their owncountry, by a route tracked by former brave deeds; through France, Germany, and other lands, marked by the Gustavuses, the Montecuculi, the Turennes, the Condes, the Marlboroughs, the Eugenes, championsalike of national peace and national glory on those widely-extendedplains and bulwarked frontiers, till the belligerent clouds of astill more threatening hostility than any of those repelled invasionswere seen hovering luridly over their own beloved country. Warnedthus, during their pleasant travel, of the coming events whoseshadows seemed to rise on every side of Poland, in forms appalling tothe luxurious, the avaricious, the indolently selfish, of everydescription in the land, but which only roused and nerved the heartsand arms of her two sons, courageous in the simplicity of theirpurpose--Poland's preservation! they hastened in that moment to herbosom. 

The events of this her mortal struggle, in fast union with thesefaithful sons, and other filial hearts, commemorated in the foregoingnarrative of Thaddeus Sobieski, need not be recapitulated here. Itamply tells the fate of the great kingdom which had stood as withgates of brass, until the intestine rivalries of an electivemonarchy--the worshipped idol alike of presumptuous private ambitionand pretended patriotic liberality--the true masked priest of publicanarchy--rent them asunder, and the watchful nations, ready forplunder and extended dominion, poured into them a flood like therivers of Babylon, over all her walls and towers. 

We have read that part of her bravest sons were swept away intodistant lands; some to die in homeless exile, others to meet thehonorable compassion and the cheering hopes of sympathy from a peoplelike themselves, who had formerly fought the good fight for England'slaws, liberties, and royal name in Europe. And some were shut up fromthe light of day in the fettered captivity of foreign prisons, until"the iron entered their souls. " Amongst these noble captives wereGeneral Kosciusko and his faithful Achates, Niemcivitz, to whom mightbe justly applied the words of our bard of "The Seasons, " affixed tothe young brow of Sir Philip Sidney--

 "The plume of war, with early chaplets crown'd The hero's laurel with the poet's bays. "

But the Emperor Paul, on his accession to the throne of the Czars, ashas before been noted, was too generous a captor to hold in cage sosweet a singing bird and so noble a lion; and he gave them liberty, appending to the act, dearest to a free-born heart, an imperialdonation to Kosciusko that might have furnished him with a goldenargosy all over the world. But the wounded son of Poland declined itin a manner worthy her name, and with an ingenuous gratitude towardsthe munificent sovereign who had offered it, not as a bribe for"golden opinions, " but as a sincere tribute to high heroic virtue. 

The writer of this note was informed of this fact many years ago, bya celebrated English banker, at that time at St. Petersburg, andcorresponding between that city and London, with whom the imperialpresent had been lodged, and through whom General Kosciuskorespectfully but decidedly declined its acceptance. 

Then it was that, after halting a short time in England, he with hisschool and camp companion in so many changes, prepared a secondcrossing over the Atlantic, to revisit its victor President in hisolive-grounds at Mount Vernon. But Niemcivitz had another errand. Hisroving Cupid had long settled its wing, and he eagerly sought toplight, before Heaven's altar in the church, the already sacred vowhe had pledged to a fair daughter of that country while sharing thedangers of its battlefields. 

It was with great difficulty the portcullis of a friendship strong asdeath had been raised in old chivalric Kent, to allow departure to sodear and honored a guest as he, who their master had seen fall in hismemorable wounds on the plain of Brzesc. But he promised to returnagain, should the same sweet cherub that sat up aloft on his firstvoyage to America steer back his little bark in safety; and then hetrusted to be once more clasped to the bosom of Poland, in that ofhis most beloved friend, a dweller in England. [Footnote: Theportcullis, the gate, and the armorial crest of Beaufort hasdescended from the royal founder of the family, John of Gaunt, Dukeof Lancaster. ]

Besides this cherished heir of his earliest remembrances, there wereother friends of olden days who had welcomed him with gladdeningrecollections. Amongst these was the family of Vanderhorst, originally of the Spanish Netherlands, who, from religious ratherthan political motives, had transferred themselves from certainpersecutions in that land during times of papal tyranny to theshelter of the British colonies on the Transatlantic shore, and who, on the separation of those colonies into independent states from themother country, had removed, in relative grateful duties, to thegoverning land of their early refuge, and were now dwelling here inprosperity and happy repose, when General Kosciusko set his honoredfoot on its sea-girt and virtue-bulwarked coast He was their formerguest while at New York, and he readily accepted their eagerinvitation that he would revisit them in their new paternal country. At this period the head of the respected family resided at Bristol, in Queen's Square, (the Grosvenor Square of that opulent city, ) andMr. Vanderhorst inhabited one of the most superb mansions in it. General Kosciusko arrived at his worthy host's door on the 7th ofJune, 1797, and was greeted by the hearty embrace of his old friendand the blushingly-presented cheeks of his two daughters, young andlovely, in their teens. Their brother, a fine youth, pressed the handof his father's gallant and revered guest to his lips. Niemcivitz, meanwhile, with dew-like tear-drops glittering over his joyoussmiles, greeted every one with the affectionate recognition of aheart that seemed to know only to love. The writer, for one, shallnever forget those tears and smiles on that venerable but ever kindlyface; yet it was only in his old age that I first knew him. But sweetsisters, whom I began to know in your bright bloom, I can neverforget those charming looks of reciprocating welcome that sprangalone from the fulness of a good and truthful virgin heart. They arenow before me, though the eyes which then beamed so ingenuously onthe honored countenance of the Polish hero are closed in death; orrather, shall I say, re-opened on him in a fairer and never-closinglight. 

He spent a happy week in that bright circle, in which the presentcommemorator has often since moved, and heard members of it over andover again describe its happy scenes; sometimes, the younger sister, my own especial friend; at other times the animated brother. Therevered father has long been in his respected grave; and the eldersister, after an early marriage with an officer of distinction in theBritish army, breathed her last sigh in the island of Antigua, leaving an only child, a daughter, Cordelia Duncombe Taylor, abeautiful memorial of the surpassingly lovely mother and aunt fromwhom she is descended. 

During the Bristol sojourn, brief as it was, numerous were thesincere votaries to simple-hearted public virtue who sought it to paytheir homage to the modest hero within its hospitable walls. RufusKing, then diplomatic minister from the United States to GreatBritain, and the accomplished Turnbull, by pen, pencil, and sword thecelebrated compeer of General Washington in his fields of glory, washere also. 

On the Polish chief's approach to the city becoming known, the abovegentlemen, with its sheriffs, Penry and Edgar, and Colonel Sir GeorgeThomas, commanding a regiment of dragoons in the vicinity, went outin procession to meet him, to give him honoring welcome to theBritish shores. Crowds of the neighboring gentry, in carriages or onhorseback, thronged the cavalcade; and on each succeeding day, whilehe remained at Bristol, similar throngs of enthusiastic visitantscongregated in the square to catch a moment's sight of him. Themilitary band of the cavalry regiment attended every evening in thehall of Mr. Vanderhorst, to regale the honor-oppressed invalid withmartial airs, from every land wherever a soldier's banner had waved. 

But letters arrived from Mount Vernon. General Washington had becomeimpatient for his expected guest, and the morning of his separationfrom his Bristol friends was fixed. The vessel in which he was toembark was inspected with scrupulous care; and from the state of someof his yet unhealed wounds, he was obliged to be conveyed fromQueen's Square to the quay in a sedan-chair. Mr. Vanderhorst and hisson preceded it on foot, and two military officers, Captains Whorwoodand Ferguson, walked on each side, each with his helmet off and inhis hand, resting them on the poles of the sedan as they moved along. The colonel and other personal friends of Mr. Vanderhorst, andadmirers of his hero-guest, followed in the rear of the chair, and arespectful and self-organized rank and file of humbler station closedthe procession to the waterside. 

There he embarked in a lightly-manned boat, with a sail and rudder, amore precious freight than Caesar and his fortunes; for the Romangeneral crossed a barrier-river to subvert his country--ThaddeusKosciusko a stream of refuge, after having sacrificed his all, thoughin vain, to preserve the independence of his native land. And thusthe welcomed coming speeded parting guest took a grateful leave ofthe party who escorted him. They had seen him comfortably placed inthe boat, and when it had put off, he and Niemcivitz, uncapped, extended their handkerchiefs, fluttering in the breeze, to them andthe other bystanders, as the little sail gave bosom to the wind, andthe farewell of this salution was answered with the warm and brave-hearted cheers of old British custom, and the waving of hats, whichpropitious sounds echoed back from cliff to cliff of the superb St. Vincent rocks that rampart the keys of the Bristol Avon. 

All along the river, as the bark proceeded down, it was met, whenwithin sight of any of the numerous merchant villas that adorned itsbanks, by pretty pleasure-skiffs, bringing votive presents of fruitsand flowers to the brave voyagers on board. And then, while thewounded and fatigued veteran, as he lay on his pallet on the deck, was only able to bow his head with a gracious accepting smile to therespectful messengers, Niemcivitz stood at the prow, his then brightlocks dallying with the sweet zephyrs from the gardened shores, andspoke the general's and his own heartfelt thanks, in a language ofpoetry that best accorded with his own glowing and his chiefs'gallant feelings, and the generous _benedicite_ of the fairdonators. 

Onward the little vessel sped, until it reached the American shipafloat in King's Road, to convey its two noble passengers to the newrepublic, just established in the western hemisphere. That the well-remembered aid-de-camp of its boasted hero, Washington, was receivedwith warrior honors, need not be here described. He rested that nightunder the variegated flag streaming from the topmast head, which hisown volunteer arm had assisted to place there; and he thought ofPoland and of England till he glided into a gentle sleep, and dreamedof both. By the following letter it may be seen that his eyes werevisited next day by a sweet vision, in real personal existence, ofthe same kind beings whose recollections alone had so blandly soothedhis pillow on the surge. 

"Letter from General Kosciusko, to----Vanderhorst, Esq. , _&c. , &c. , &c. _ From the United States of America, No. 36 Queen's Square, Bristol. 

"At sea, " (but without further date; circumstances, however, establishing it to have been written on or about the 21st or 22dJune, 1797. )

"DEAR SIR:

"IT is the subject for a drama only, where the actors can expresswith the action and words what may approach nearest to what waspassed yesterday within us, that I try to write. We were highlypleased, it is true, and with uncommon satisfaction, to see theapproach of your family in a boat to our ship. But how short was theduration of the pleasure! When separation took place, our hearts weremelted in tears. And we were frightened at their return, with fearsof what might happen to them upon a high sea in so small a boat. Every rising wave gave the greatest pain to our anxiety, and theextreme painfulness of our alarm even increased when we were so faroff that we could not see them more. 

"I must beg of you to give them a good reprimand. Their kind andsensible hearts passed the limits of safety for themselves, and gaveus the most distressful emotions of soul. The sea was so rough, I amsure they must all be very sick. However, we send them the warmestthanks, with everlasting friendship and remembrance. Be pleased, also, to take for yourself our tender respects. 

"Never shall I forget so kind reception of me in your house, nor theattentions of your friends. I am sensible that I gave to you and youramiable family a great trouble; but your goodness will notacknowledge it, and by so doing, it more impresses my mind with theobligation, and with a true answering affection for your wholefamily. 

"I am, dear sir, with friendship and esteem, your most thankful andmost obedient servant, "T. KOSCIUSKO. "

"I can nothing add to the feelings of my worthy friend but that Iwish to the respectable and beautiful family of Vanderhorst all thehappiness that virtue and the most excellent qualities of the heartcan deserve. 

"J. NIEMCIVITZ. 

"The fair deity--I mean Mister Cupid--desires his best compliments toyou all. "

This tender yet playful postscript from the young soldier votary ofCupid and the muse is evidently appended in the gayety of anaffectionate heart, speeding to the land of his own lady-love, shortly to become his bride after his arrival, and which was soconsummated. Kosciusko never swerved from his soul's loyalty to thebright Polish Laura of his cherished devotedness; and his subsequentcorrespondence, one of pure, unselfish friendship, with the youngestdaughter of his venerable Anglo-American friend, lovely as she waspure, confided to her how faithful had been his heart's allegiance tothe woman of his first and last vows. They had met during his trackof early military fame, and had exchanged these vows. But blightingcircumstances interfered, and they lived, and loved, but never metagain. 

The narrator of these little reminiscences might well, perhaps mostagreeably, drop the curtain here; for strange and stirring incidentsawaited the two friends on their return to Europe, after a ratherprolonged sojourn amongst the animated hospitalities of a gratefulpeople. 

The homeward side of that curtain was wrought in mingled fabric, gold, silver, and various threaded yarns; and many were the differenthands that threw the shuttles--emperors, kings, princes, friends, traitors; but above all, in the depth of mischief, the spirit ofsuspicion had steeped the web. 

Such was the lurid appearance of the great drama of Europe whenKosciusko and Niemcivitz set foot again upon its shores. Death hadthrown his pall over some in high places and others in low. But morecheering suns soon arose, to scare away the darkening shadows, andthe patriot heroes' hopes ascended with them. How some were honored, some deceived in the observance, need not lengthen out our presentpages; suffice it to say that there were stars then rising on thehorizon which promised fairer elements. 

It may be recollected that at the signing of the partition of Polandby the benumbed Senate, on the fatal day of its political decease theyoung prince Adam Czartoryski, the eldest son of the justly-renownedand virtuous palatine of Vilna, who had been so signal a benefactorto his country by the endowment and reformation of its chief schools, was sent out a hostage to Russia, in seal of the then finalresignation. His education had been noble, like the principles ofthose schools in the foundation of which the brave, illustrious andalso erudite Lithuanian family of Krasinski had been eminent sharers. [Footnote: Count Valerian Krasinski, a distinguished son of thishouse, has long been an honored guest in England, and held in highliterary respect for his veritable and admirable works, written infine English: "The Times of Philip Augustus, " and "The History of theProtestant Reformation in Poland. " The writer of this note knows thathe has in his possession some beautiful manuscript tales, descriptiveof the manners of Poland; one called "Amoina, " a most remarkablestory; another, entitled, "My Grandmamma, " full of interestingmatter, written as a solace in occasional rests from severer literaryoccupations. And she laments that he has not yet allowed himself tobe prevailed on to give any of these touching and elegantreminiscences to his English readers. ] The young prince's mannerswere equally noble with his principles, and not long in attractingthe most powerful eyes in the empire. During the remainder of thereign of the Empress Catharine, she caused him to be treated withprotective kindness, and on her demise he was instantly removed bythe Emperor Paul from whatever surveillance had been left over him, into the imperial palace of St. Petersburg, where this justly-admiredprincely student of Vilna was to be the constant inmate and companionof the youthful Alexander, the eldest son and heir of the empire. 

Their studies, their amusements, were shared together; and they soonbecame friends like brothers. About the same time, as has before beenrelated, Paul had given freedom to General Kosciusko and hiscompatriot Niemcivitz. And still, after the death of thatmysteriously-destined sovereign, a halcyon sky seemed to hold itsbland aspects over Russia's Sclavonian sister people, ancientSarmatia. But ere long the scene changed, and the "seething-pot" of auniversal ambition, the crucible of nations, grasped by the hand ofNapoleon, began again to darken the world's atmosphere. 

Kosciusko now looked on, sometimes with yet struggling hopes, thenwith well-founded convictions that "the doom was not yet spent;" andno more to be deluded one way or another, while such shifting groundsand sudden earthquakes were erupting the earth under his feet, likethe prophet of old, boding worse things to come, he withdrew himselffar into the solitudes of nature, into the wide yet noiseless templeof God, where the prayer of an honest man's heart might be heard andanswered by that all-merciful and all-wise Being, who sometimesleaves proud men to themselves, to the lawless, headlong driving oftheir arrogant passions, to show them, in the due turn of events, what a vicious self-aggrandizing, abhorrent and despicable monster inhuman shape such a noble creature, when turned from the divinepurpose of his creation, may become. To such contemplations, and tothe repose of a mind and conscience at peace with itself, did theonce, nay, ever-renowned hero of Poland, retire into the mostsequestered mountains of Switzerland. A few friends, of the sameclosed accounts with the world, congregated around him; and there hedwelt several years, beloved and revered, as, indeed, he was whereverhe planted his pilgrim staff. 

He died at Soleure, in the house of a friend, Mr. Zeltner, inconsequence of a fall from his horse while taking a solitary ride. Hewas buried there with every demonstration of respect in the power ofthe simple inhabitants to bestow. But the Emperor Alexander, onhearing of the event, would not allow remains so honorable to bedivided from the land of their birth; and such high and sincerehomage to the undaunted heroism and universally acknowledgedintegrity of the lamented dead found no difficulty in obtaining thedistinguishing object sought, that of transferring his virtue-consecrated relics to the shrine of ancient Christian Poland, thecity of Cracow, and there reinterring them in the great royalcemetery of the most revered patriots of the kingdom. 

Years rolled on over the head and heart of the patriot and the bard, Niemcivitz, the ever "faithful Achates" of his friend and hiscountry, even after, to his bereaved heart, he had survived both. Hehad also become a widower. His gentle and delicate wife went torevisit her native climate in the United States, but died there. Onhis return thence to Europe, the consolations of a fraternalfriendship, in the bosoms of his noble countrymen, who had becomeadopted denizens of free and happy England, vainly sought to retainhim with them. Sorrow in a breast of his temperament cannot find restin any place. His shining locks, once likened to those of Hyperion, became frosted by an age of wandering as well as of sadness; and thetill then joyous and ever-tender heart of the sweetest poet ofSclavonian birth breathed its last sigh in Paris, in the summer of1841. It was on the first of June; and on the eighth of the month hewas buried with military honors and all the distinguishing rites ofthe national church. The funeral service was performed by theArchbishop of Chalcidonia, with a large body of the clergy attending. A choir of fifty professors sung the mass, and more than a thousandpersons thronged the procession--persons of all nations, of allcreeds, religious or political, of every rank amongst men, of everymind, from the prince to the peasant, that understood the true valueof genius when helmed by virtue, either on the land or on the wave;whether in the field or in the cabinet; in the student's closet, orin the duties of domestic home. 

Such a man was Niemcivitz. So was he wept; so will he be remembered, proving, indeed, most convincingly, that there is a standard set upin men's hearts, if they would but look to it, which, whatever betheir minor clashing opinions, shows that the truly great and good inthis earth are all of one family in the estimation of pure intellect, the spiritual organ of all just estimation, which is, in fact, thatof the kingdom of heaven--that kingdom which, if its laws to man wereproperly preserved and obeyed, would spread the shepherds' promised"peace and good-will to all mankind. " But men may listen, approve, and admire, and yet withhold obedience. But why will the heirs ofsuch a covenant, with sight and hearing, die from its inheritance?

Kosciusko and Niemcivitz were real appreciators of so rich abirthright in "the better country!" and now are gone to Him whopurchased it by His most precious blood, to enter with Him foreverinto its peaceful and glorious rest. 

J. P. 

BRISTOL, SEPTEMBER 1845.