its sorrows, and unchanging amid all its changes. He thought on his parting interview with his father; and, again, on his next meeting with Aline, in that same chamber,-when he was fatherless!—and then came across him, like a flash of lightning which seemed to burn up his brain, her farewell look, as he bent above her, and separated the long tresses on her brow, to leave upon it his last kiss. Oh! that burning spot upon her cheek!-He felt it at his heart; and, starting from a retrospect which maddened him,-long ere the night closed in, was far away from Paris. It was a bright morning in June, when Frederic approached Lyons. He had taken the route of Villefranche, which he had reached soon after midnight; and, finding it impossible to procure horses at that hour, had embarked upon the Saône, after a short repose, to complete his journey. He lay, and watched the sun which was to light him to his love, rise over the distant Jura. As its lofty ridges brightened beneath the splendid and ever-varying pageant, and thè lines of that mountain-chain which stretches beneath became gradually defined upon the horizon, the fever of his soul subsided, and he felt as if it had escaped from an earthquake. He strained his sight to catch the first glimpse of the far-off heights of St. Sebastian, where they looked down, in their beauty, upon the city of his heart, and the home of his childhood. A thousand sweet and soothing recollections stole over him, as he passed along, betwixt the picturesque banks of the romantic Saône. The river was gay with the lights and shadows that danced upon its bosom; and he glided by many a scene hallowed in the remembrances of boyhood-when he and Aline were both children, and many a height which they had haunted in the moonlight, scarcely six months ago. Were they not dreams, indeed ? Had he won his way back to the bosom of a land, where every steep and every tree seemed consecrated by the presence of his own love? Tears-sweet as they had lately been bitter-stood in his eyes, as he promised to his heart that nothing should ever tempt him from its shade again; and he yielded himself up to many a bright vision, in which Aline mingled, as his bride! His sister, too,-his beautiful and kind Louise with her bounding step and her dark eye-came over his musings; and he turned away-from watching the stream, where it glided calmly into the embraces of the blue Rhone, that rushed to meet it, and from gazing upon Lyons, as it rose on each side the waters, like their first-born,-to seek for the little hill, clad in its summer garlands, within whose bowers lay all the treasure of his soul. Long ere they reached the suburb of the Guillotiere, he was put ashore; and made his way, by well-remembered paths, to its foot. The village lay all in light; and the sun look ed brightly down upon his own mansion, as it peeped forth from the grove of limes which sheltered it. His eye fell upon the spire of the little church; and it seemed, as it pointed up into the blue sky, to tell of hope. He entered within the home of his father, and passed, unannounced, to the door of Aline's boudoir. One moment's pause-that pause which the heart makes, to collect itself for happiness-ere he passed its threshold, and stood, once more, in the presence of his soul's beloved! She lay upon a couch-beside which his sister was kneeling, with her head stooped upon the cushion ;— and her white dress was, he thought, the same in which he had last beheld her. A ray of light stole through the half-closed shutter, and fell upon her beautiful face, as he bent down to gaze upon it. It was, indeed, his love, "his heart's first idol, and its last;" she whom he had left a few months before, and with just the same look,-yet oh! how changed! Every thing that had alarmed him in it then, was absent now; and it seemed as if all pain had passed away. That feverish hue which had caused him so much grief, was gone for ever; and the sunlight rested just where that fatal spot had been. Her brow retained no traces of the sorrow which darkened it when last she lay in his arms. Her eyes were closed now, as then; but no tears stole from beneath the fair lashes, to dim the smile which played upon her : lips and that anguish, whose deep throbbing was almost audible, as he pressed her to his bosom, for the last time, was all hushed. He had entered so silently that Louise never looked up. He knelt by her side, and, once more, put back the ringlets which lay, in rich profusion, upon the neck and forehead of his love, that he might kiss her pale brow. It was cold-colder than even in that dark and ominous hour which it recalled-beneath the damp touch of death. The sweet and bruised spirit of Aline had just passed away; and all her little world of sorrows was extinguished-and for ever Т. К. Н. ARRIA. AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. "It is not painful, Pætus." HER form-it is not of the sky, Her eye-it is a woman's eye, And bright with woman's love ;- Her lord is fettered by her side, |