CHAPTER XXI. * And this too must I suffer--I, who never "A voluntary pang! But that is false "She loved me, and I loved her-fatal passion! “Now brought upon thee.” THE feelings of poor Tanjore, on reading his sister's letter, were wound up to a pitch of agony. At one moment he bewailed the fate of his lovely cousin, and lamented his tamely submitting her to pay a sacrifice to duty in which affection had no part, his sister, his father, his mother, every body knew that it was a sacrifice, and yet William, knowing it to be so, had inhumanly accepted of it; and a momentary resentment filled the breast of Tanjore against the conduct of his brother; but, to do him justice, it was only momentary,-in the next moment his heart bled for the sufferings of that brother, now laid on the bed of sickness, perhaps never more destined to rise from it; and he thought that if his own life could restore poor William to health, how freely would he give it,—but to give Emma-oh, it was more than life to Tanjore! At the same moment that he was conscious she had made a sacrifice of all that she held dearest in life, to purchase the happiness of William, and highly as he venerated the character of his father and his mother, he could not but consider them reprehensible in this affair. Like a lamb offered up to sacrifice had they led Door Emma, who had acted in conformance to their wishes, but not from the dictates of her own heart. They would suffer her to become the wife of William, with the reflection that her affections were in the possession of another! and much he wondered at that father, who had been so severely tried himself from the same influence over his mind; and much he wondered at the sensibility of that mother, who had herself been taught the lesson of relinquishing the object of her heart's dearest choice!-And surely if his father and his mother had both felt the consciousness of these sensations, they should have felt for Emma, and they should have felt for him! How often had he heard his mother declare that she never could have survived Trelawney's marriage with the supposed daughter of the Earl of Fitzosbourne; and how frequently had he heard his father express his abhorrence of such an alliance, and that if he had married Lady Alexina he should have been the most miserable of mankind! It is true, that comparisons were to be drawn in favor of such a character as his brother William: it was by no means a case in point,-William was every way deserving of his lovely cousin; but if her heart was not his, the sacrifice offered to Hymen was exactly similar. Marriage without love, say what you will, must ever be worn with a mask !-Spendour may rock the cradle, luxury and soft blandishments tempt i lo smile; but love, and love only, can yield it real and permanent felicity. Love alone lights the temple of Hymen, and without this brilliant luminary it will ever be left in darkness, dreary gloom and solitude. Though placed on an eminence of the most exalted rank, the flowers which it produces are of a sickly hue !—unlike the genial offspring of pure and native affection, fresh in the bloom of sweetness,-though fostered in the humblest shade, heaven still breathes with balmy fragrance on its smiles! Nursed on the bosom of love, it is healthy in the midst of brambles and of thorns, and when it rises to the first blush of roseate morn, it wafts a thousand odours from its dewy wings! Hope gladdens it with smiles, and in soft whispers cheers and restores it to balmy slumbers of the night. There was an air of candour and sincerity breathed throughout the whole of Alexina's letter, with which Tanjore was much pleased; and he could not but rejoice in her prospects of happiness with such a character as Lord Wyndham, which was of far more consequence than even the exalted rank in which he had placed her. Alexina was doubly blest in being the wife of such a man, for it did not appear that wealth had ever been the object of his Lordship's consideration, whom he now more highly esteemed and venerated than ever. How delicately, too, had Alexina spoken of Emma! Happy herself, she was not so selfish as never to bestow a thought on the miseries of others; and how greatly did she appreciate the virtues, and lament the destiny, of her lovely cousin! F. P. 3 L "Yes, my sister is worthy of her exalted station," cried Tanjore; "she deserves to be the wife of Lord Wyndham, and may days of bright and unfading happiness crown her union with this most amiable man!" Again Tanjore perused that part of Lady Wyndham's letter wherein she had so feelingly described the illness of poor William, and setting aside all selfish considerations for his own happiness, resigning, eternally resigning all hopes of Emma, he most fervently prayed that his brother might be restored to health, and that his union with Emma might ultimately be productive of happiness to him and his fond parents. For Emma he had no fears;-the angelic fortitude she had displayed, and the purity and rectitude of her own spotless heart, would, he felt well convinced, support her against every trial of her fate, and lead her on to the practice of every great and celestial virtue which could adorn and dignify the character of lovely woman!-For Emma he had no fears! for she had resisted the most dangerous temptation which can assail human fortitude,-the weakness of our own hearts. When we can obtain a vietory over that, we are secure-we stand firm as a rock, and may fearlessly overlook the dangerous precipice that is beneath us. Of his own destiny he was now reckless. All climes were alike to him, however foreign or distant; all changes in life or fortune to him indifferent; and more eager than ever to commence his travels with his cousin Sedley, he tore open the seal of his father's letter, in the hope that its contents were only to apprize him of the immediate necessity there now was for his going abroad: but what were his emotions on perusing the following lines, dictated by the agonized feelings of his almost distracted father : "By this day's post I have written to Fothersgill to expedite your return to England, as speedily as possible after you receive this summons from your almost broken-hearted father, while at the same moment he is under the painful necessity of conveying to you the intelligence of your dear brother's alarming indisposition. Alas, Tanjore, even before you arrive William may be no more! Till yesterday I had cherished hopes of his recovery, but they have since been rendered futile by the confirmed and now declared opinion of the physicians, that hẹ cannot survive long in a state of mortal existence, however flattering may be the present appearance of his disorder. Oh, my boy, this is a blow which I least expected to take place; it is then no wonder that I can so ill support it, or that I am so little able to afford consolation to your poor mother in this distressing hour of our grief. She is also not aware of the extreme danger of her child, and has long been flattering herself with the hope of his recovery. How shall I unfold the fatal truth? How will her gentle nature sustain the shock? Hasten, my boy, to the arms of your afflicted father; lose not a moment in expediting your journey to your paternal home, which, though a melancholy one, will yet be cheered by your affectionate presence. I have written my instruction to Fothersgill to prevent all delay; I have also written to my ever highly-honored friend the Duke of Belmont, |