the flowrets of delight: the buds of hope should bloom and blossom, unchecked by the keen winds of disappointment, and the sun be unshadowed by a cloud. But where can this be found? Say, ye sages, where is that envied country from whence happiness never strays? Imagination alone has the power to depict it, and nature refuses to realize the vision. The society of Naples is not, as in some other countries, select-character is but a secondary consideration: rank and wealth are first in estimation, though without the former the latter could not obtain admittance into the casinos of the nobles. Had it not been for his alliance with an English family of distinction, Francisco would have found some difficulty in being admitted within the circle of the high and privileged members of the first class, even with the interest of De Lasti; and though he was received with courtesy, there was nevertheless much silent curiosity to discover to whom or to what family he belonged. Though no one dared to take the liberty of questioning Francisco himself on the subject, there were not wanting those, who, envious of his personal attractions and his mental acquirements, did everything in their power to depreciate his merits. At Naples the Carnival is the season when even the wise usurp the garb of folly, and the fool passes undistinguished among his fellows. The still mirror-like Bay reflects the lights from the city, and echoes over its smooth surface the noisy mirth of mingling crowds, the gay song of the minstrel masquer, and the sweet melody which music breathes from instruments as various as the congregated groups. The scene, at once picturesque and fantastic-mirth-moving, and pitiably ridiculous, cannot fail to attract the attention of the stranger, and even the Neapolitans themselves seem untired with the repetition of folly. But in this balmy clime, where the fragrant flowers of the orange tree perfume the breeze as it passes onward in its flight, and Nature revels in luxuriant profusion, even Misery seems to have learned forgetfulness, and the stream of Lethe not to have lost its fabled powers. Poverty has its dreamy days of joy; it is felt "In the dancing spirits and the blood, robs it of half its woes. which she had so long been concealed, and enjoy even a transitory pleasure. The monk was averse to this proceeding, but his reasoning was unheeded by Nina. She was still, she said, a free agent, and for once would not be checked in her wishes, or biassed by advice. As remonstrances were useless, Father Miguel ceased his importunities. Nina was left to pursue her own plans, which she did without making a confidant even of her son; and, during the time of the Carnival she mixed, with at least a semblance of gaiety, with those who were eagerly courting the visionary phantom of happiness. The simple black domino and capuchin which she wore, did not render her an object of curiosity, and she had therefore the opportunity, unnoticed, to observe the passing scene. On the last day of the Carnival, Nina suddenly left her friends, who were not aware of her absence till Gertrude perceived her domino lying at some little distance. She felt alarmed, and grasping the arm of Francisco, had only power to ejaculate the name of Nina, and sunk senseless in his arms. It was impossible for him to leave Gertrude in such a situation, as De Ruthin had started off a few minutes before to join a group of minstrels, and there was no one near whom he knew, or to whose care he felt inclined to trust the object of his tenderest love. Father Miguel hastily approached them. Francisco, without speaking even to the monk, placed the slowly recovering Gertrude in his arms, and was about to go in pursuit of his parent, when the strong grasp of Miguel checked his steps:"Whither would you speed, my son?" said the Father mildly, but still holding his arm too tightly to allow him the possibility of extricating himself. "To seek my mother," was the reply of Francisco. "Nay, you stir not hence. She is safe. I have left her even now at the gate of the Ursulines." "You deceive me, Father-I feel a foreboding of ill: something has occurred-do not conceal it from me, I beseech you." "Why indulge those unjust suspicions, Francisco? My age, my profession, my care of you from the first dawn of infancy, ought to teach you to give credit to my speech. Remain here with Gertrude for awhile, and then, if you will, follow me to the convent.' Miguel walked away with measured pace, leaving Francisco to his reflections. The time of the Carnival at length arrived, when the Neapolitans are permitted to indulge their A crowd approached the spot where Francisco mirth and their spleen without restraint. At this awaited the returning strength of Gertrude to progay season many an aching heart is robbed for ceed to the Ursulines. From the buz of many awhile of its sorrows by the glare of pleasure; voices, it was evident that some accident had hapmany a truth is told beneath the vestments of a pened. Unable to endure the agonizing sensation masquer; and many a proud spirit quakes and of suspense, and fearing that Nina might have been quails beneath the shafts of satire which fly with-injured by the pressure of the crowd, he hastily out restraint. Nina, to the surprise of all parties, signified her determination once more to mingle with the merry throng, and in the company of her son, to enjoy at least a view of that gaiety to which she had for years been a stranger. The delight of Francisco was unspeakable when he found that it was really the intention of his mother to cast off the clouds of care, beneath rushed forward and enquired what had occurred. "Nothing, Signor, or at least a mere trifling every-day concern," replied one of the lazzaroni, as he turned back the straggling curls which overspread his forehead, and threw himself into a listless attitude. "One of our nobles has been alarmed at something-some say it was a spirit, with her bosom bathed with blood; but I believe, though all who were near him heard her voice, there was "You are more than a century beforehand with the world in the liberality of your principles," said Francisco; but, my good friend, it appears that you think little of the future, and though you invoke the Virgin, it is not for the purpose of religion." "We leave that to the priests, Signor, who give us absolution; to the nuns, whose lives ought to be spent in fasting and in prayer, though heaven knows, they are of this world, and think of this world; to the friars, who preach virtue, which hath fled the confines of this nether world, and sought a refuge in those which we know not of, except from the doctrines which they promulgate. Speak we of virtue? "Tis a theme which all men love to dwell on. Who is there that is not virtuous? All would fain wear the mask. The priest is virtuous, because he tells us the wicked must suffer punishment; yet he is not immaculate. The nun is virtuous, because none, save her own sisterhood, can impeach her chastity. You are, perhaps, virtuous, for I cannot gainsay your assertions; and I may be virtuous, because you have not the power to dispute my words. Believe me, Signor, when I say with the ancient Roman not one who had the courage to look at her. In | to her. He was an honest-hearted fellow, but, one point, however, all agree that she accused sailor-like, had no great desire to trouble himself him of murder-a very likely thing indeed, when about women's matters; and telling me it was noa brave arm may always be obtained for a stated thing more than the effect of the motion of the sum to set a heart at ease. His Excellenza must waters, left me to take care of her. I remember be of a baby-spirit if he trembles at a phantom; she struggled considerably, and just before the the Virgin preserve me, I know many a worthy last convulsion of nature, the mate came into the fellow who would be glad to stab for a ducat, and cabin: he saw that she was near her end, and dare all the ghosts in Christendom." crossing himself with a semblance of deep devotion, he called to the captain that the woman was indeed dying. Every hand on board was powerless on a sudden, but not one had the courage to venture down into the cabin except the mate, who was too much terrified to quit it. Well, Signor, my mother died; and, with me for his protector, the mate ventured upon deck, where the captain and the crew were all most lovingly huddled together beside the helm, each afraid to quit the side of his fellow lest the spirit of the departed should follow his steps. As they were aware that my mother had a few ducats in her purse, and the relation to whom we were going was in a thriving way, the captain had too much politeness to commit her body to the waters without the rites of sepulture, or the benison of a priest. Two of the sailors were with some difficulty, a double allowance of grog, and a ducat to boot, at length persuaded to tie her up in the hammock on which she had expired, and place her in the long boat on the deck. This was during the day, and all went on very smoothly. I was too young and too giddy to grieve, though, to the credit of my feelings, I have been told that a tear was seen to glisten in either eye, when my mother was placed in the long-boat. Had she lived till now, perhaps I should have been a very different character; but let that pass-I am what I am my faults, and my virtues, if I have any, will be punished or rewarded in another world. I am a strange, but I trust not a bad character; necessity taught me art, and that art is scarcely sufficient to find me a subsistence. I was ever a wild and wayward youth, restless, impe“I will tell you, Signor; but it is a long tale:tuous, and possessing ideas far above my situation -I was but a stripling at the time the presumed catastrophe occurred, yet I have a faint recollection that some suspicion was then attached to the noble of whom we have been speaking. The old Lord had two sons, and the younger one was, as is usual in many families, the favourite of his father: but the elder was neither inclined to give up his pretensions, nor to sell his birthright for a mess of pottage, and so they quarrelled, as report says, and one brother relieved the other of all sublunary cares. This is a tale of other times, Signor; you could scarcely have been born, and I was then but a stripling. But as to this apparition, in my opinion, it is nothing more than a trick of one of the merry masquers, who, knowing a little of his Excellency's history, has thought it expedient to try his courage. 1 shall never forget my poor mother's death, God rest her soul; she was a good creature, and was as constant as the Priest to matins and vespers. She died on ship-board on her passage to Messina, whither we were going to visit her sister, who resided there. We had scarcely got out of the bay of Naples, before she grew unwell, and at night-fall she was so much worse that I entreated the captain to come down and speak • Virtue is merely a name;' my words are sooth. Look round you and confess it." "You are too great a casuist for me to contend with," rejoined Francisco; "but what of this supernatural appearance, which has so alarmed a Neapolitan noble ?" in life. The little wealth my mother left was soon expended by my generous relations, who then most affectionately left me to provide for myself as I could. But I am wandering from my subject. The night-watch was set; the captain retired to rest with the mate, for he was too much alarmed to venture into his own cabin. At the usual time he again went upon deck; he had a lamp in his hand, and I was close by his side. Saving the man at the helm, there was no person to be seen, and the captain, though he grasped my hand as tight as though he would fain have dislocated my wrist, was not courageous enough to pass by the long boat. He made direct for the forepart of the vessel, and thrusting his body half-way down the hatchway, in a shrill and tremulous treble called the whole crew, who were as timid as himself, to his assistance; and then they proceeded in a phalanx to the stern, where they remained till day dawned, and dissipated their terrors. Sailors of all nations are given to superstition, and I believe have invariably a horror of witnessing the natural death of a fellow creature, though they shrink not from the "grim tyrant" when he comes in the most terrific form in the hour of battle. When the day was at the meridian, the captain for the first time ventured into the cabin. I was with him, and young as I was, the scene that I witnessed made too deep an impression on my mind ever to be eradicated. I had always something like an idea of judging for myself; this you will tell me was not strictly orthodox, but the truth must be told." "That sentiment is most unquestionably or thodox," said Francisco. "Why, Signor, you are both right and wrong on that point. If you speak truth, half the world will not believe you; but if you deal in the marvellous, nine-tenths will give credit to every assertion you make. Man naturally delights in the strange and wonderful. Improbabilities are the manna of the curious, perhaps I might say the idle mind, while the simple truth, unless gorgeously attired, stands little chance of attracting attention. But to my subject. We were in the cabin--the sunbeams danced lightly over the surface of the waters which glided on calmly, yet majestically; wave rapidly rolled over wave, and the white foam sunk and rose like the sensations of delight in the bosom of man. A large fly, which had not till now been seen, flew round the cabin, and the melancholy buzzing it made, startled the good mariner so much that he was almost afraid to beat it from him, when like an uninvited guest it settled upon his nose, more to his annoyance than his pleasure. When I venture to say to you, Signor, that superstition is the curse of our nation, I feel convinced that you will agree with me in opinion. The captain was literally a martyr to this failing; and if I had but the power and the abilities to paint to you his actions, and the working of the muscles of his face, when this solitary insect flew before him, you would, I am sure, smile as I have frequently done, at the bare recollection of the scene. He had taken it into his wise head that this fly was the spirit of my departed parent, and that she was haunting him for taking her on board his vessel when she was so near her end. Waving his hand in the air, at the moment he saw the poor fly winging its flight towards him, he cried whisht! in an under tone of voice, and crossing himself devoutly, murmured an Ave, before he dared venture to raise his eyes from the ground; and most probably he was striving to recollect a portion of the formulary for the quieting disturbed spirits, at the very moment he was engaged in his devotional exercises. But still the fly fluttered and buzzed around him, with the pertinacious quality of the bee, which will fly to the flower whose fragrance is most inviting. Conscience is said to make cowards, and superstition certainly makes fools of us all. He swore a faint oath or two; and then prayed the Virgin's intercession for pardon for the vile profaneness he had been guilty of, in anathematizing an insect which might, for aught he knew, be a spirit which could not escape from the trammels of sublunary confinement. After much hesitation, he decided that the only way to get rid of his buzzing visitor was to open the window of the cabin and drive it out. Now commenced a conflict between the fly and the fool-and the former, for some time, had the best of it, till happening to perch for a moment on the opened pane, it was with the whisk of its terrified opponent's handkerchief, precipitated into the sea, and as we saw no more of it, all fear was at an end. Now, Signor, which think you is of the weakest mind-the noble of to-day, or the captain I have spoken of?" Francisco made no reply, but taking the arm of Gertrude, who was supported on the other side by her cousin, led the way to their residence, from whence he proceeded alone to the convent of the Ursulines. "Sorrows to be proud; For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout," When it is the honest indulgence of the miseries of the heart. "Your imprudence, my daughter,” said Miguel, "has both afflicted and alarmed me. Had I foreseen what would have been the result of your self-indulgence, I would not have permitted you to have quitted the confines of the convent walls. Perhaps from to-day the commencement of fresh troubles may be dated; for when sober reason comes to the aid of the Duke, he will probably set enquiries on foot, which it may be difficult to elude. Mark me, Nina, I am not alarmed for your safety: no one will dare to violate this sacred retreat-but your son lives in the world, and is in communion with the world; the tale may reach his ears-circumstances will probably give birth to suspicion, and he is of that spirit which cannot brook suspense. My oath, though unjustly exacted, must still be held sacred." "Talk not of the obligations of that cruel oath, my protector, my father; heaven will absolve you from it, and the blood of him whose image fills my heart, and is ever present before my eyes, cries aloud from his distant grave for revenge. Let me brave the fury of the tiger of Caserta—let me dare him to the proof of his innocence. Ah! he could not look on me for a moment--guilt shook his frame; my voice paralyzed his senses, when, like a vision from the tomb, I crossed his path, and whispered the words of truth in his ear.' "But for the safety of your son, my daughter, behoves you to subdue those feelings which now swell your bosom." it My son, said you? Ah! that word reduces me again to a woman! Yet it is for him that I would claim his father's rights; it is for him that I would deprive the fratricide of his ill-gotten wealth, and stamp the mark of Cain upon his forehead. Is it not planted there already by the Omnipotent? Can he rest, who hath shed the blood of one who loved and trusted him? Can he rest, who hath artfully possessed himself even of those papers which would prove my claims and his guilt? No, no; life to him must be the torments of the damned, yet he is allowed to keep that life, and worldly honour hides the shame which encircles his brow, and the infamy that rests on his name. I am but a woman, and grief hath made me a weak and powerless one. In your hands for years I have been a passive instrument-the creature of your will-for I trembled for my child. He is no longer a boy-his arm is strong, and his heart is brave with him to protect me, what cause o fear have I?" "The time of retribution is at hand; wait patiently for the dawning of the day of justice." 66 "I have watched the dawning of that day for years. I have strained my eyes towards the farthest corner of the east, and said the hour draws nearer. In my dreams I have heard a voice whisper, 'tis to-morrow and woke to weep the delusion of my imagination. Tears have dimmed my eyes, and grief has whitened my head: in the prime of my life I wear the semblance of age, while on you time has scarcely left a trace of his footsteps." The Father knew not how to reconcile Nina to the necessity which he felt of concealing for awhile the truth from Francisco. He regretted that an oath, which had been extorted from him under circumstances over which he had no control, should for so many years have bound his lips to silence. He felt that he had acted wrong, but the error was committed with the best intentions. It was to preserve the life of Nina and her infant that he made himself a party to the concealment of a crime at which he shuddered, and compassion for the grey hairs of the father of the poor victim, who trembled at the shame which hung like an impending cloud over the unstained honours of the family of Caserta, made him weak at the very moment that religion and justice ought to have braced every nerve. When a man is pressed on a sudden to concede a point, he sometimes, without being convinced that he is acting right, commits himself too far to be able to retract without compromising his honour. Miguel was precisely in this predicament; but the high feeling he possessed (though he deeply regretted his own want of foresight in being inveigled into promising that which reflection told him was not in unison with the pure principles of religion,) prevented him from acknowledging his error, without first receiving a dispensation from the highest spiritual authority. To obtain this it would be necessary for him to make a journey to Rome, as he was not inclined to entrust his secrets to paper, and the reigning Pontiff had not only been a brother of his order, but also his friend. He was considering of the propriety of proceeding without delay to the capital of Catholic Christendom, when the entrance of Francisco interrupted his meditations, and recalled his thoughts to things of minor consequence, though at the present moment of perhaps greater importance. The countenance of Francisco was pallid, and his mind appeared unusually agitated. His voice was tremulous, and his hand was cold and quivering. Nina was alarmed at the situation of her son; Miguel was perhaps more so, though he was silent. He feared he might have heard a tale, which he dreaded the very mention of, lest the impetuosity of Francisco's disposition might lead him to those extremes which might prove prejudicial to his own interest. It was evident that something had both depressed his spirits and agitated his mind. When we dread the worst, it is often very difficult to induce us to turn our thoughts towards the fair side of the picture. This perversity of disposition, however, is sometimes productive of evil consequences; but though the philosopher may have sufficient calmness to view every object and every occurrence with impenetrable quietness, men in the aggregate have minds of a very different temperament. What is more true, or more justly descriptive of human nature, than this passage of Shakspeare? "The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together; our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues." The marked anxiety of Francisco produced a similar sensation in the bosom of Nina. Her fears were awakened in a moment, and the glance she directed towards Miguel, told him at once the secrets of her soul. He perceived that she dreaded his running into that danger from which they had from almost the moment of his birth been so anxious to preserve him. He embraced his mother affectionately, and mildly chid her for giving him so great an alarm. This, as might have been expected, was followed by questions, which neither Nina nor the monk could with prudence reply to. Their silence both hurt and offended Francisco. He could not brook to be thus treated like a boy, and to be denied that confidence which he felt he had a right to expect, and he deemed it cruelty to withhold from him. Though he had never known the evils of poverty, he believed his fate to be worse than that of the most distressed mendicant, who implored, in the name of the Virgin and the Saints, a morsel from the scanty pittance of those who were, perhaps, nearly as destitute as himself. Was it kind, was it just, to treat him with such reserve?—This state of suspense he could bear no longer; it was preying, like a disease, on his spirits and his constitution, and even the soft blandishments of the tenderly affectionate Gertrude had not the power to soothe the pangs of his agitated imagination. When he found that no persuasion could induce either his mother or Miguel to explain the cause of her so suddenly quitting him, the tear trembled in his eye, and covering his face with his hands, he sat for some time absorbed in reflection. Wild and wayward are the fancies which in those moments sometimes flit over the imagination. On a sudden the half-told tale of the lazzaroni recurred to his recollection. Was it--could it be possible, that the alarm had been caused by Nina, and it had any connexion with his circumstances? He spoke of the occurrence. The startled countenances of his friends convinced him that his suspicions were not groundless: the expansion of his chest, the fire of his eye, the nervous quivering of his frame, convinced them that he had heard too much to be kept much longer in ignorance of his father's fate, and his family's faults. "You then, my mother, were the cause of the proud and guilty Neapolitan's terror! You were the spirit which the lazzaroni described as having wakened the tortures of the damned in his crimeclouded mind! He lives, gracious God! he lives to feel my dagger pierce his thrice accursed bosom. He lives to meet the force of my arm, which, nerved by vengeance, shall strike deep and deadly. Spirit of my father!" he continued, kneeling before the crucifix which was placed in the convent-parlour, "hear me smile on me, and consecrate my revenge! Bless me, ye martyrs, who have fallen beneath the dagger of the assassin-when, for my father's death, I strike a poinard into his murderer's heart!" Nina was powerless: she was unable either to enfold him in her embrace, or to speak to him. Father Miguel had more self-possession; he drew him towards a chair, in which he had scarcely seated himself ere the strength of his feelings overcame the strength of his body, and he fell back, like one who has exhausted himself in struggling with the last enemy of mankind, and has no longer a desire to live. The sudden illness of Francisco recalled the slumbering faculties of Nina. "Have they killed my son also?" she exclaimed frantically. "Speak to me-in mercy, if but one word! Let me feel his warm breath upon my cheek! Oh God! he breathes not-he stirs not. My child, my persecuted Francisco, look once more at me'tis thy mother speaks-thy mother who has killed thee !" She sunk upon her knees beside her son, and bathed his hands with her tears. All the past flitted before her mind, and, in conjunction with the present threatened affliction, almost drove her to distraction. The feelings of a mother can only be appreciated by those who are blessed with children to whom they are tenderly attached. The poet may describe in powerful and figurative language-the artist may depict with all the strength of genius, and make his canvass glow with mimic life-but none, save a parent, can judge the sentiments of a mother's heart. She seems to live but for her children; her existence is so entwined with theirs, that if the thread which connects their hearts to her own be snapped asunder, her happiness is destroyed for ever. Who that has seen a mother weeping over the tomb of her infant, has been able to keep the tear from starting to his eye? If there lives such a one, to whom sensibility is a stranger, let him enjoy, without molestation, his unenviable apathy, and sink to the grave unwept, unhonoured, and unpitied. For some hours Francisco remained in a state of insensibility; the beatings of his pulse were scarcely perceptible, and his breath was drawn with such quietude that it was impossible to say whether he had not already been clasped in the cold embrace of death. The monk, who had some small skill in pharmacy, attempted in vain to draw blood from his arin: the stream was laggard, and refused to flow; and though his arm was immersed first in tepid, and then in water some degrees hotter than the skin could bear without shrinking, the desired effect could not be produced. It ap peared to be a hopeless case, and the nearly frantic Nina was with difficulty prevented from a deed of desperation. Sometimes she incoherently called to her son-then raved at Miguel as having been his destroyer; then, in a moment of calmness, she would appear as though she believed she was conversing with Francisco, and reply to the ideal questions which her distracted imagination made her fancy she heard from his lips. Then a flood of tears would recal her to momentary reason, and she would ask why Gertrude was not there to watch his slumbers? In the midst of this soul moving scene, Gertrude, who had become alarmed at the protracted absence of her husband, entered the parlour accompanied by her cousin. Nina caught a glimpse of her as she came within the arched doorway, and hastening towards her, she placed her finger on the lips of the trembling and terrified girl, and said in a low and sepulchral tone of voice "Hush! he sleeps, and sleeps so soundly that he will not wake at my bidding. His father looked just so when Caserta stabbed him to the heart-but I must not tell you all now; Father Miguel would not let me tell my boy. Would he would waken! Francisco!-Do you speak to him, Gertrude, he will answer you; but he is angry-Oh! so angry with me. See-he stirs. Ah, no, no-he will never move again. But do not tell me he is dead-for that blow would kill me. It was well that Gertrude had the support of Lady Susan. The scene before her was one which she had not expected to meet with, and which she had scarcely fortitude to endure. But the Omnipotent in moments of the most severe suffering sometimes strengthens the mind and the body of those who are doomed to combat with affliction. Love, duty, and despair united to nerve the feelings of the gentle Gertrude, while the self-possession of her cousin was at this trying moment of the most essential service. Though women are generally, although somewhat unjustly, termed the weaker sex, in danger, difficulties, and distress, they prove themselves the strongest. The spirits of a man will sink under circumstances which will stimulate those of a woman. Man, like the sensitive plant, bows to every gale; his hopes and his spirits are elevated by sunshine, but when the storm comes on, he shelters himself beneath the shadow of the tree on which Nature teaches him to lean for support. In every moment of affliction, to whom does man fly for consolation? In the hour of delight, to whom does he impart the feelings of his heart? To woman. Nature has formed her to prove a solace to grief, and a stimulant to joy. Her smile is the reward of toil-her kiss the recompense for absence. Without her, man would be an outcast and a wanderer. Life would be a world which no sunbeam could ever enlighten; and even hope would perish, like a flowret stricken in its earliest bloom by the unkind breath of an untimely frost. Without her, man would exclaim "What art thou, life, and wherefore wert thou given?" But with her, even pain becomes less poignantsorrow is robbed of its sting-disappointment be |