A stolen glance at mass, a blush, a start,
Were all the maiden now could call her own;
But this was something for a woman's heart
To live for, hope for, and to dwell upon.
All unconsciously has Lisette smiled,

Her last on Paul . . . And must such lovers part? They must-for Lisette was pure duty's ray,

Nor deemed a doting parent's broken heart,
Would bring a blessing on her bridal day.

A sweet and rural spot was Lisette's home,
Luxuriantly, the rose and eglantine
Around her lattice twined their varied bloom,

And mingled with the purple-clustered vine;
Green meadows, on their future mistress smiled,
A yellow corn-field waved the crested blade:
But still, the wealthy farmer's only child,

Scorned not the rural toils of village maid,
And upon market-day was seen arrayed

In antique ornaments, that once had been
Her grandmother's-and garb that well displayed
The neatest foot that ever trod the green;
What with her playful wit, her sparkling eye,
Her loveliness, her wealth, and her broad land,
There was not wealthy farmer, far or nigh,
Who did not languish for young Lisette's hand.
One sultry afternoon, with heavy heart,

And disappointed hope, she journeyed home,
And, as she left the market, tears would start,
In
eyes that looked for one who did not come.-
How often, as her father caught her rein,

She thought upon the hapless orphan boy,
Who, upon busy market-day was fain,

To share her toils, and double all her joy..
Arrived at length, she sought a mossy seat,
A spot how fitted for a fond farewell!

For there the purple "pensée" seemed to greet
The yellow clusters of the "immortelle !"
Poor Lisette! ye, who've known the mystic power
Of a first passion, will not scorn the tears,

That fell like dew-drops on the faithful flower,

That through all seasons the same fond smile wears; She thought, or we may deem she thought, that flower An emblem of her love.-What accents meet

Her ear?-Who comes to her deserted bower? this simple farewell at her feet:

Paul pours

"Oh, Lisette! I have sought you,
At mass, and market too,

And Lisette, I have brought you,
A lover's last adieu.

"No longer will I linger,

In well-loved glen and grove,
I place upon thy finger,
This token of my love.

"And in some distant land,

I'll earn a right to bring,
And place upon thy hand,
Another-holier ring.

"I will not ask a promise,

And I will not claim a vow,

Those tearful eyes have answered, "Yes,"
And high in hope I go.

"But oh! should aught estrange, love,

That precious heart from me,

And oh should chance and change, love,
Have brighter charms for thee,

"Then, fling that token from thee:
For worlds, I would not claim
Thy hand,-unless thy heart for me
Still fondly beat the same."

When Lisette raised her head, she was alone,
Alone indeed! the heart's sad solitude,
Was it a dream?—No; on her finger shone,

Paul's parting token-with his tears bedewed,
'Twas a "forget-me-not," formed of the stone
Called Turquoise.-What a halo love can fling,
Round a mere bauble !-Would she give that ring,
The orphan's love-pledge! for the proudest gem,
That glitters in a sultan's diadem?

There were glad hearts, when Paul was seen no more,
And many suitors thronged his maiden's door,

A wealthy bourgeois, and a farmer bold,
And an old miser-who loved Lisette's gold;
But all in vain !-Two years soon glided by
(By the fond lovers deemed a century),
Once to her door, a wand'ring pedler came,
And whispered in her ear, a well-loved name;
Told her glad news of her true Paul-and then,
Joy sparkled in her deep blue eyes again.
And suitors hoped-but Lisette's father died,
And then a shade fell on the maiden's fate,

Law's minions came, and ere her tears were dried

Disputed Lisette's right to the estate.

Proved something, Heaven knows what, which drove her from Her fav'rite bowers, and her childhood's home.

When poverty and want assailed her door,

Those suitors quickly bade all others yield,
"Bourgeois" and farmer soon were seen no more,
And stealthy miser banished from the field-
And Lisette and her mother left the scene

Of former bliss, and joined the wretched crowd,
Driven by want, from merry glen and green,
To toil in cities for the great and proud.
Oh, what a change! A close unhealthy room,
In Paris' suburbs, formed their wretched home.
But Lisette mourned not; hope smiled on her still,
Tho' her fair hands must toil at others' will.
"Pillows and bobbin" must replace the flowers,
Which she was wont to twine for her bright hair;
She finds employment for the dreary hours

In making lace, to deck some happier fair.

But never, even in a transient thought,

Did her fond heart admit one truant doubt, Whether 'twere happier to share that lot,

That wretched lot, with Paul, or wealth without.

One evening (she had toiled thro' the long day
At her ungrateful task), the sunset, gleaming
Thro' the small casement, mocked with vivid ray
The tears that from her wearied eyes were streaming.
She was alone!-Oh, it was such an hour

As that when Paul had breathed his last farewell!
She wrung her hands, writhing 'neath memory's power,
From her thin finger Paul's love-token fell.
She seized it, wildly murmured, and “ Do you,
Pledge of his faith, do you desert me too?
And is this ominous, does Paul forget?

A deep voice near her answered, No! Lisette."

It is a proud day, when the young lover comes
To the home of his beautiful maid;

And when on her pale cheek all freshly blooms
The tint sorrow taught to fade.

When he who was scoffed at and cruelly spurned,
And bitterly bade to depart,

With the strength of his own stalwart arm has earned
The desolate bride of his heart.

When the old mother learned the orphan boy

Was come, with stores of wealth to claim Lisette,
She welcomed him with mingled shame and joy,
And hoped, for Lisette's sake, he would forget
"Old grievances;" said "'twas a mother's care

To look to the main chance, but that she ne'er
Would cross true love again, that what was done
Could not be undone." Paul remembered naught
But that Lisette would soon be all his own;

And as the mother's hand he kindly caught,
Urged a request, which did not fail to bring
The maiden's blush, that they should seek the ring,
The little circle, in whose magic round
All earth has left of happiness is found.

Oh those glad lovers! side by side again
They wander forth,-follow the winding scene
To the gay city. With what wild excess
Of joy, of pride, of dear-bought happiness,
Paul pictured future years of bliss, while she
Mused silent on that moment's ecstacy,
A gentle pressure of Paul's arm revealing
The rapture o'er her chastened spirit stealing.
They found fair l'aris one proud blaze of light-
Thy bridal fête, poor Marie Antoinette!
Ill-fated Queen! And that disastrous night
Was big with omens of thy future fate.

Many sly looks the jeweller would throw

At the young Lisette, as the ring she tried:
The blush that mantled on her brow of snow,

Betrayed the bashful but too happy bride.
The ring is bought-and now they thread the maze
Of that dense crowd, and as they paused to gaze,
On the glad tokens of a nation's pride,
Lisette drew closer to her lover's side,

And, leaning on his arm, feared not the throng
That filled the air with shouts wild, loud, and long.
Vainly the torrent do they seek to stay,

Borne by the rush of eager crowds away;

A sudden shock tears Paul from Lisette's side,
Again she grasps his arm-"Oh, Paul!" she cried,
"What means all this? What means yon livid glare?
Wild shrieks and cries of fire!' fill the air: "

And in that awful hour, the weak, the old

Were trampled underfoot. The trembling tone

And tott ring step of the young Lisette, told

Her strength was failing." Paul,” she cried, “'tis done! Oh save yourself, for nought can rescue me;

I sink, I sink, God's blessing, Paul, on thee
Lisette! for my sake, for thy mother's sake,

Oh yield not, loved one: see, they come! they come ! Bear up one moment then, and I will take,

On these strong shoulders, my best treasure home." There was a moment's pause-the crowd was gazing On some huge building, in one red glare blazingOh, now or never, Lisette!" and he knelt,

64

66

Quick, quick, the maddened crowd come rushing on,
Now bless thee, dearest!" cried he, as he felt

He was obeyed. A soft hand grasped his own,
And a light form upon his shoulder sprung.
"Lisette," he cried, "does terror tie thy tongue?
Speak to me, Lisette! Atlas with the world

Upon his shoulders, not more proud could be,
Than I, my loved one, for I bear my world,
My little world of bliss, in bearing thee.”
Oh surely love alone could send Paul strength,
To brave the raging fire, the frantic crowd.
He toils, he grapples-but he gains at length
The city's outskirts. An ill-omened cloud
Sailed round the moon, while on a mossy bank
He placed his charge-he turned to meet her eye
And met a stranger's!.... Yes, poor Lisette sank
While blessing Paul. A female demon nigh
Availed herself of Paul's devoted love!....

What piercing shriek at midnight fills yon grove?
They say it comes from yonder dark abode,
Where a poor lunatic drags on the load
Of his sad sunless life, in making rings,

He calls them wedding-rings, of his damp straw,
And at the hour when mellow twilight flings

Her veil o'er nature's charms, and nature's law Ordains repose for all-he seems to bear

Some precious burden,-toils beneath its weight Till the moon rises,-then the midnight air

Is filled with one wild sound-that sound Lisette!....

at

THE HEIRESS.

"Look on her with impartial eyes, and then
Let envy, if it can, name one graced feature
In which she is defective."-Massinger.

It was near midnight when the travelling carriage, which contained Lord Baltimore and his confidential valet, stopped at the door of the principal hotel The post-horses, which had brought them through the last stage, were covered with foam and dust; and as his master entered the house, Sciner gave an order for fresh cattle to be brought out immediately; this order could not, however, be complied with, owing to an extraordinary influx of travellers from the continent, and the young nobleman found himself necessitated to pause in his hasty journey, to repose the four jaded animals that they were even now removing from his travelling-chaise.

The valet bestowed

a few gutteral German curses on the innocent waiters and ostlers, who crowded round the equipage, to tender their services; and after having despatched some articles of value into the house, he followed his lord to an apartment where the lately decaying embers were now rapidly expanding into flame and cheerfulness.

Lord Baltimore was an only son; he had lost his mother early in life, and had spent the last seven years abroad. He had just been summoned by the earl to fulfil a wish, which, unknown to his son, he had been nursing since his youth; it was that of uniting him to the daughter of an old friend; "there is another reason," urged the letter, "which will, I doubt not, influence a young man of your good sense. Miss Ashtonville is an heiress-our estates are involved, almost beyond all other hope I revere the memory of your mother too much to dwell on the manner in which they became thus embarrassed -it suffices to inform you that they are SO. Ada Ashtonville's father knows this, and yet he is too generous to annul the contract into which we entered in your childhood. Remember, however, my dear boy, that if your acquaintance with the lady engenders other feelings than those which will promise to make the union a happy one, you are free;— but I will, I do fervently hope the con

trary; Miss Ashtonville is too lovely and too amiable not to inspire you with the highest regard."

Lord Baltimore received the intelligence of his father's arrangement with Mr. Ashtonville like one who dreams; but he instantly resolved to obey the earl's first wish, by immediately returning home, and to leave to time and circumstance the fulfilment of the second.

"This is a sad bore, Sciner," said the young nobleman, as his valet entered the apartment.

"It is, my lord," replied the equallyannoyed domestic. Wheel the sofa to the fire, and throw on a few coals; this room is as chilly as the catacombs.'

"Had not your lordship better lie down for an hour?" asked the more considerate valet, "you are really looking fatigued, my lord."

Pho, pho, Sciner," smiled his master, "you would make a woman of me― why I must not nurse myself into effeminacy when I am just going to be married." lord?"

Married, my "Yes, most ejaculating Sciner, married-is the idea of my becoming a Benedict so very extraordinary ?"

"It is strange, my lord, that I should not have heard of it before ;-then there is an end to my hopes."

"And what were they?" asked lord Baltimore, willing to encourage the loquacity of his attendant, from mere lack of amusement.

"I confess, my lord, that I had hoped one day to see the beautiful Miss Ashtonville Countess of Mountmorris."

"What! do you want to give the young lady to my father?"

"Not exactly, my lord; but as I trust that I shall live to see your lordship earl of Mountmorris-that is, not hope, I ought rather to have said expect, my lord-for the will of Providence and the order of nature must be accomplished -so I might see Miss Ashtonville Countess of Mountmorris, without marrying her to your lordship's father." Sciner," said his My honoured papa

Upon my word, master, laughing, "