“I shall endeavour to deserve it.”
“Retire now, else we shall be surprised by Amelia; but take care not to make her suspect our interview and conversation. You even must not visit us this evening earlier than usual.”
I promised it, and retired. My whole frame had been in a feverish tremor from the beginning of our conversation. I could scarcely utter the most necessary answers to the discourses of the Baroness. To be beloved by Amelia! This intelligence imparadised me, and my heart could scarcely contain the unspeakable bliss which had been showered down upon me. I went home like a dreaming person, went again abroad, and my feet carried me, unknowing to me, to the spot whither a secret impulse urged me to go. However, the severe command of the Baroness had drawn a large circle around Amelia’s abode, which repelled me. I hovered at the margin of it like a spell-bound spirit, and sighed for the arrival of the appointed hour. Never had the setting in of night been expected with more impatience, and the sun appeared to me to retire unusually late from the horizon.
At length the wished-for hour arrived; however, the moment when I was going to the house which contained all that was dear to me, an unspeakable anxiety damped suddenly my rapturous joy. I had promised not to betray by my behaviour the intelligence which the Baroness had imparted to me, and yet I deemed it impossible to preserve such a dominion over myself if the vehemency of my state of mind should not abate. This was the source of my anxiety, which added to the danger of exposing myself, because it deprived me of the small remnant of self dominion which my rapturous joy had left me. I entered the house. The woman of the Countess told me her Lady was in the garden. I went through several rows of trees without finding her. The moon peeped now and then through the fleecy clouds, and concealed her silvery orb again. The great extent of the garden, and the impetuous state of my mind, increased the difficulty of finding the idol of my heart. At length, stepping forth from a side path, enclosed with high hedges, I fancied I saw something stirring at a distance, near a statue. Having advanced some paces the light of the moon reflected from the marble statue upon Amelia, removed every doubt. I approached with tottering steps, and found Amelia reclining against a pedestal of a Diana, and immersed in profound meditation. The rustling of the dry leaves beneath my footsteps, roused her from her reverie.
(To be continued.)
For the New-York Weekly Magazine.
REMARKS ON MUSIC.
(Continued from [page 91].)
The present universal passion for this art, and the fashion of making it a necessary part of education, induces me to consider it as relating to the fair sex, more particularly. Parents are naturally inclined to make their children partake of those amusements the most prevailing and fashionable. As music in this age comes under that denomination, it is no wonder we find every attention paid to this qualification at the earliest period of life. The most eminent masters are obtained; and much time and expence bestowed to acquire this accomplishment. The fond parent, anxious to embellish the darling child, and render her fit for polite company, compels her to perseverance, without discriminating the propensity of her own nature, but vainly imagines, that a proficiency is certainly to be obtained in proportion to the reputation of her instructor. Under this delusion the young lady is too often brought into public company, and exhibits her own performance, to the well-bred, amidst the admiration and astonishment of the ignorant many, and the silent pity of the judicious few. Here again let us call to mind the observation of Plutarch, and consider how far the manners of a people are denoted by the state of their music. The present state of dissipation in the fashionable world, and the agitation of spirits ever attendant on crouded assemblies and pleasurable pursuits, elevate the mind and taste above the standard of sober thoughts. Every thing is sought which can assist the temporary frenzy, and nothing deemed worth our knowing but how to forget ourselves. This unhappy situation renders the generality of our fashionable people lost to any serious examination of true or false impression, while they are indiscriminately led to approve or condemn whatever the multitude of fashion establishes by its sanction. It is not now sought as a repose for the mind after its fatigues, but to support its tumults; and the imagination is now to be surprised with the wonderful execution of the performer, whilst the effect is totally neglected.