Auguste made a declaration to the old officer of the sentiments which his daughter had inspired. The old gentleman mentioned it to Madelaine; and she only answered by tears, of which he perfectly understood the meaning. When Auguste explained his situation with respect to his father, the officer desired him to think of his daughter no more. Auguste felt that he might as well have desired him to cease to breathe. He continued his visits, and the officer was soon reduced to that state of languor and debility which left him neither the power nor the wish to forbid them. His complaints increased every day, and were attended with many alarming symptoms. The season for the waters of Bareges was now past, and all the company left the place, except the old officer, who was too weak to be removed, and Auguste, who, while Madelaine remained, had no power to tear himself from the spot. In a few weeks the old officer felt that his dying hour was near. Auguste knelt with Madelaine at his bedside—her voice was suffocated by tears; and Auguste had scarcely power to articulate in broken accents that he would devote his life to the happiness of Madelaine. The old officer fixed his eyes with a look of tender anxiety upon his daughter, and soon after expired. Madelaine mourned for her father with uncontrouled affliction; nor could all the attentions of her lover dispel that anguish, with which her affectionate heart lamented the loss of her parent.
The winter being far advanced, she proposed to defer her journey to the distant province where she and her father had lived, until spring, and to place herself in the mean time in a convent not far from Bareges. Auguste exerted all the eloquence of love, to induce her to consent immediately to a private marriage. She hesitated at this proposal; and, while they were conversing together on the subject, the door of the room in which they were sitting was suddenly thrown open, and Auguste saw his father the Count de —— enter. He had heard of the attachment which detained his son at Bareges, and had hastened to tear him from the spot before it was too late. He upbraided his son with great bitterness, and began also to upbraid Madelaine: but there was something in her looks, her silence, and her tears, which stifled the terms of haughty reproach in which he was prepared to address her; and, ordering his son to leave the room, he desired to speak to her alone. After explaining to her the absolute impossibility of her being ever united to his son, and his determination to disinherit him, and leave his whole fortune to his second son, if Auguste should persist in his attachment to her—after endeavouring to awaken her pride and her generosity, he desired to know where she proposed going. She told him her intention of placing herself immediately in the convent of ——. He approved of this design, and left her to go to his son. No sooner was the door of the room shut, than Madelaine gave way to those tears which she had scarcely been able to restrain while the Count was speaking. She had never felt so sensibly her orphan condition as at this moment; and the dear remembrance of her fond father, was mingled with the agony of disappointed love.
Mean time the Count de —— declared to his son, that his only chance of ever obtaining his mistress depended on his absolute unconditional submission to his commands, and that he must instantly attend him to Paris. Auguste eagerly enquired what was to become of Madelaine; and his father told him that she had determined to take refuge in the convent of ——. Auguste absolutely refused to depart till he was allowed an interview with Madelaine. The Count was obliged to consent; but before he suffered them to meet, he obtained a promise from Madelaine not to mention to her lover any particulars of the conversation which had passed between her and the Count.
Auguste, in this last interview with Madelaine, atoned for the cruel disdain of his father, by the most solemn and passionate assurances of fidelity, not to be shaken by time or circumstance; and then, after attempting to leave the room several times, and returning as often, he at length tore himself away. Madelaine, when she saw him depart, felt that every earthly hope had vanished with him.
She set out early the next morning for the convent of ——; but not till after she had sat some time weeping in the chair which Auguste used to occupy.
(To be concluded in our next.)
ANECDOTES.
During the reign of King James II. and when the people were much oppressed and burdened with taxes, that monarch made a very expensive tour thro’ England; and on his return he slept at the palace of Winchester. The Mayor and Corporation, for the honour done them by this royal visit, determined to address his Majesty in the morning; but as the Mayor could neither read nor write, it was agreed the Recorder should prompt him on the occasion.
Accordingly, being introduced into the Royal presence, and every thing ready for the ceremony, the Recorder, by way of encouraging the Mayor, who appeared aukward and embarrassed, gently jogged his elbow, and at the same time whispered in his ear, “Hold up your head—look like a man.” The Mayor mistaking this for the beginning of the speech, stared the King boldly in the face, and with a loud voice repeated, “Hold up your head---look like a man.”---The Recorder, amazed at this behaviour, again whispered the Mayor, “What the devil do you mean?” The Mayor, in the same manner, instantly repeated, “What the devil do you mean?” The Recorder, chagrined at this untoward circumstance, and fearing his Majesty’s displeasure, still whispering in the Mayor’s ear said, “By G—d, Sir, you’ll ruin us all;” which the Mayor taking to be a continuance of the speech, and still staring the King in the face, with a louder voice than before repeated, “By G—d, Sir, you’ll ruin us all.” The King on this rose with some anger, but being informed of the cause of this rough address his Majesty was pleased to pass by with a smile, and the Corporation was perfectly satisfied with the honor done them.