no! i will not describe that scene; nor how pale the stately lady sat on the border of the green, sunny meadow! the hearts of some women tremble like leaves at every breath of love which reaches them, and then are still again. others, like the ocean, are moved only by the breath of a storm, and not so easily lulled to rest. and such was the proud heart of mary ashburton. it had remained unmoved by the presence of this stranger; and the sound of his footsteps and his voice excited in it no emotion. he had deceived himself! silently they walked homeward through the green meadow. the very sunshine was sad; and the rising wind, through the old ruin above them, sounded in his ears like a hollow laugh!

flemming went straight to his chamber. on the way, he passed the walnut trees under which he had first seen the face of mary ashburton. involuntarily he closed his eyes. they were full of tears. o, there are places in this fair world, which we never wish to see again, however dear they may be to us! the towers of the old franciscan convent never looked so gloomily as then, though the bright summer sun was shining full upon them.

in his chamber he found berkley. he was looking out of the window, whistling.

"this evening i leave interlachen forever," said flemming, rather abruptly. berkley stared.

"indeed! pray what is the matter? you look as pale as a ghost!"

"and have good reason to look pale," replied flemming bitterly. "hoffmann says, in one of his note-books, that, on the eleventh of march, at half past eight o'clock, precisely, he was an ass. that is what i was this morning at half past ten o'clock, precisely, and am now, and i suppose always shall be."

he tried to laugh, but could not. he then related to berkley the whole story, from beginning to end.

"this is a miserable piece of business!" exclaimed berkley, when he had finished. "strange enough! and yet i have long ceased to marvel at the caprices of women. did not pan captivate the chaste diana? did not titania love nick bottom, with his ass's head? do you think that maidens' eyes are no longer touched with the juice of love-in-idleness! take my word for it, she is in love with somebody else. there must be some reason for this. no; women never have any reasons, except their will. but never mind. keep a stout heart. care killed a cat. after all,--what is she? who is she? only a--"

"hush! hush," exclaimed flemming, in great excitement. "not one word more, i beseech you. do not think to console me, by depreciating her. she is very dear to me still; a beautiful, high-minded, noble woman."

"yes," answered berkley; "that is the waywith you all, you young men. you see a sweet face, or a something, you know not what, and flickering reason says, good night; amen to common sense. the imagination invests the beloved object with a thousand superlative charms; furnishes her with all the purple and fine linen, all the rich apparel and furniture, of human nature. i did the same when i was young. i was once as desperately in love as you are now; and went through all the

'delicious deaths, soft exhalations

of soul; dear and divine annihilations,

a thousand unknown rites

of joys, and rarified delights.'

i adored and was rejected. 'you are in love with certain attributes,' said the lady. 'damn your attributes, madam,' said i; 'i know nothing of attributes.' 'sir,' said she, with dignity, 'you have been drinking.' so we parted. she was married afterwards to another, who knew something about attributes, i suppose. i have seen her once since, and only once. she had a baby in a yellow gown. i hate a baby in a yellow gown. how glad i am she did not marry me. one of these days, you will be glad you have been rejected. take my word for it."

"all that does not prevent my lot from being a very melancholy one!" said flemming sadly.

"o, never mind the lot," cried berkley laughing, "so long as you don't get lot's wife. if the cucumber is bitter, throw it away, as the philosopher marcus antoninus says, in his meditations. forget her, and all will be as if you had not known her."

"i shall never forget her," replied flemming, rather solemnly. "not my pride, but my affections, are wounded; and the wound is too deep ever to heal. i shall carry it with me always. i enter no more into the world, but will dwell only in the world of my own thoughts. all great and unusual occurrences, whether of joy or sorrow, lift us above this earth; and we should do well always to preserve this elevation. hitherto i have not done so. but now i will no more descend; i will sit apart and above the world, with my mournful, yet holy thoughts."

"whew! you had better go into society; the whirl and delirium will cure you in a week. if you find a lady, who pleases you very much, and you wish to marry her, and she will not listen to such a horrid thing, i see but one remedy, which is to find another, who pleases you more, and who will listen to it."

"no, my friend; you do not understand my character," said flemming, shaking his head. "i love this woman with a deep, and lasting affection. i shall never cease to love her. this may be madness in me; but so it is. alas and alas! paracelsus of old wasted life in trying to discover its elixir, which after all turned out to be alcohol; and instead of being made immortal upon earth, he died drunk on the floor of a tavern. the like happens to many of us. we waste our best years in distilling the sweetest flowers of life into love-potions, which after all do not immortalize, butonly intoxicate us. by heaven! we are all of us mad."

"but are you sure the case is utterly hopeless?"

"utterly! utterly!"

"and yet i perceive you have not laid aside all hope. you still flatter yourself, that the lady's heart may change. the great secret of happiness consists not in enjoying, but in renouncing. but it is hard, very hard. hope has as many lives as a cat or a king. i dare say you have heard the old italian proverb, 'the king never dies.' but perhaps you have never heard, that, at the court of naples, where the dead body of a monarch lies in state, his dinner is carried up to him as usual, and the court physician tastes it, to see that it be not poisoned, and then the servants bear it out again, saying 'the king does not dine to-day.' hope in our souls is king; and we also say, 'the king never dies.' even when in reality he lies dead within us, in a kind of solemn mockery we offer him his accustomed food, but are constrainedto say, 'the king does not dine to-day.' it must be an evil day, indeed, when a king of naples has no heart for his dinner! but you yourself are a proof, that the king never dies. you are feeding your king, although you say he is dead."

"to show you, that i do not wish to cherish hope," replied flemming, i shall leave interlachen to-morrow morning. i am going to the tyrol."

"you are right," said berkley; "there is nothing so good for sorrow as rapid motion in the open air. i shall go with you; though probably your conversation will not be very various; nothing but edward and kunigunde."

"what do you mean by that?"

"go to berlin, and you will find out. however, jesting apart, i will do all i can to cheer you, and make you forget the dark ladie, and this untoward accident."

"accident!" said flemming. "this is no accident, but god's providence, which brought us together, to punish me for my sins."

"o, my friend," interrupted berkley, "if you see the finger of providence so distinctly in every act of your life, you will end by thinking yourself an apostle and envoy extraordinary. i see nothing so very uncommon in what has happened to you."

"what! not when our souls are so akin to each other! when we seemed so formed to be together,--to be one!"

"i have often observed," replied berkley coldly, "that those who are of kindred souls, rarely wed together; almost as rarely as those who are akin by blood. there seems, indeed, to be such a thing as spiritual incest. therefore, mad lover, do not think to persuade thyself and thy scornful lady, that you have kindred souls; but rather the contrary; that you are much unlike; and each wanting in those qualities which most mark and distinguish the other. trust me, thy courtship will then be more prosperous. but good morning. i must prepare for this sudden journey."

on the following morning, flemming and berkleystarted on their way to innsbruck, like huon of bordeaux and scherasmin on their way to babylon. berkley's self-assumed duty was to console his companion; a duty which he performed like an old spanish matadora, a woman whose business was to attend the sick, and put her elbow into the stomach of the dying to shorten their agony.