THE SACRIFICE.

THE Italians, it is well known, are as remarkable for the enthusiasm with which they prosecute either vice or virtue, as for the constitutional warmth of passion, which converts even their better qualities into ministers against them. From whatever cause this national temperament may proceed, whether from the influence of the climate, the effects of irregular education, or the prejudices of a bigoted devotion, it is pregnant with innumerable evils, and productive of infinite detriment, both to the individuals themselves, and to society in its more enlarged bearings.

The count Uberto was a powerful Italian nobleman, who possessed, in an eminent degree, the peculiar characteristics of his nation. Proud in his disposition, liberal in his establishment, but revengeful in his nature; his temper was perpetually ruffled, from the want of that amiable propensity which induces its possessor to regard the petty failures of mankind as objects rather of pity than disgust. Though naturally high-spirited, and even magnanimous when his prejudices did not interfere to thwart his better feelings, he was subjected to occasional fits of the darkest malevolence; and the dereliction of his favourite daughter, Marion, who had placed her affections upon an object infinitely beneath the count's consideration, had inflamed his mind to a state of irritation that bordered upon frenzy. Rankling with the remembrance of her last interview, when with tears and burning blushes she confessed her attachment, he called her into an apartment remote from the intrusion of strangers, and imprecated on her head the bitterest anathemas of revenge, if for an instant she withheld her compliance of discarding her lover for ever from her sight. Terrified at the menaces of her father, and shrinking from the malicious expressions of his dark countenance, the poor girl knew scarcely what reply to make. The thoughts of the young Juan Sbogarro came across her imagination; she

recalled his last looks the insinuating tenderness of his voice the respectful deference of his attachment; and the reflection inspired her with additional courage. In a voice faltering with emotion, and with eyes bent towards the earth, she endeavoured to mitigate the frenzy of her indignant parent; but when she found that even the tears of a favourite child were not proof against the pride of a father, she refused to comply with his request, and left the apartments with the imprecations of the count Uberto haunting her imagination as she withdrew. On crossing the threshold of the great palace wall, she was addressed by Juan, who eagerly inquired what success she had met with from her father, When informed of his barbarity, and the cruel request that accompanied it, he pressed his beloved still closer to his bosom, and as she conjured him by all that he held most dear upon earth, to avoid the palace of her father as he would the resort of an enemy, promised implicit obedience, and with a soul deeply lacerated with the fears of eternal separation, reluctantly withdrew.

Time, that soother of affliction, rolled on, but brought no balm to the distressed spirits of Marion. She had received no intelligence of Juan; and her desponding fancy, saddening every thing with its own gloomy colours, suggested the probability of his departure. Her family, cool and indifferent to her happiness or misery, provided her marriage brought with it an accession of wealth and honour, were but ill calculated to wean her from the care that hung around her; and as the count, whenever he addressed her, spoke with the voice and command of a tyrant, her situation soon became irretrievably wretched. Such was the state of her mind, when one morning, while the rest of the family were employed in their different occupations, a message was delivered to Marion, commanding her immediate attendance in the library of her father. On entering the room, she discovered him seated in moody sternness by the window. He scarcely noticed her on her entrance, but motioned with his hand to a seat. After a

short pause, he again addressed her on the subject of their late interview, and with more softness than he had hitherto used, gently seized her hand, and besought her compliance with his wishes. "Discard that baseborn churl, my Marion," he exclaimed, "and the heart of a father will be satisfied. To-night you will be introduced to the only son of the powerful duke di Aranza, and remember"-his countenance darkened as he continued," and remember, Marion, I expect that you should receive him as your husband. He is noble,

chivalrous, and patriotic, and has condescended to honour our family with the offer of his alliance. Accept him, and the blessings of an affectionate parent, and the gratitude of a fond family, will shower eternal happiness on your head; but dare for an instant to refuse, and take with you in your exile from the house-for no rebellious ingrate shall ever lodge under the same roof with Uberto-the deepest curses of your father; and of that father, whose existence the ingratitude of his child will bow to the tomb. But no, my Marion, I cannot, will not believe, that the murder of a parent can be perpetrated by his child; your averted countenance, your tearful eyes, read a tale of softness; and to confirm the favourable impression, to restore a daughter to her duty, the proud, the haughty Uberto, whose knee was never yet bent to mortal man, now humbly supplicates obedience from his child. See, on his knee, he

sues

"Father, dearest father," frantically exclaimed Marion, "bend not thus to me; I cannot-will not bear it; I am wholly yours,-make of me what you please; for my widowed heart has no more to lose, and life no more to offer. I will discard Juan; and, great as is the struggle, will accept di Aranza for my husband. Have you any further sacrifice to exact? Speak! and I will perform it all. But oh, dearest, dearest father, author of my being, and all that life holds sacred, rise from that suppliant posture, and let a daughter sue for forgiveness, and humbly implore compassion."

"Now, my Marion! you are indeed the daughter of

Uberto," he replied, as he folded her affectionately in his embrace; "and thus let me seal our re-union with a kiss. But swear to the fulfilment of your promise; for duty, my love, is but a feeble barrier, when the sensibility of nature is opposed to it." Tremblingly, and with eyes filled with tears, the poor girl sealed the penance that tore her for ever from Juan; and, with a soul racked with anguish, retired to the solitude of her chamber.

In the evening she was introduced to him who was henceforth to be her husband. He was conciliating and gallant; but oh! how unlike that softness, tempered with manly dignity; that generosity, regulated by reason, that delighted her in the disposition of Juan. In spite of her endeavours to the contrary, comparisons detrimental to Aranza were perpetually rising in her mind; and while she dwelt on her lost love and blighted prospects, her fair, and delicate form sunk daily beneath the struggle. Her eye lost its brightness, and her heart its native elasticity; she was never happy but when alone, and when alone was ever in tears. She had borne much, but the reflection that cut her to the heart, was the apparent desertion of her lover. To leave her, and at such a moment too, when friends, relatives, and. even her own family had all conspired to neglect her,the thought was wormwood, and sowed the first seeds of that disorder which death alone could terminate.

Poor misguided woman, the child of innocence, the nursling of loveliness! man little thinks when he courts thee in thy hour of pride, that thou hast a heart that can feel, and a mind that can inspire attachment. He woos thee as the wanton zephyr that frolics with the summer rose, and then leaves it to wither on its stem; and when he has inspired thee with the sentiments of love, consigns them to perish where they bloomed. He little thinks that the cheek which is unblenched at his approach, the heart that is indifferent to his attentions, the hand that relaxes in his grasp, may be united with a love that is entwined with the heartstrings, though the pride of virgin modesty prevents its avowal. Lovely,

but misguided woman! the tear that has never yet been shed for man, can glisten in the eye, while it recalls the memory of thy worth, thy beauty, and thy sorrows. Hard indeed must be the heart that can inflict on thee, who art so lovely and so gentle, one pang of remorse, one sentiment of anxiety; but harder still the disposition of that seducer, who can deface by his unholy passion the most beautiful work of God. It was evident from the depression of her spirits, and the increasing languor of her frame, that the poor girl was gradually dying away. Her constitution took its tone of action from her mind, and their united operation hurried the lovely victim insensibly to the tomb. With her family she was ever quiet and uncomplaining, and it was only when left alone in the solitude of her room that she wept for the desertion of her lover. Her former favourite amusements were neglected with a sigh, or continued with indifference; but she would stand for hours in the shrubbery where she had last met Juan, and listen as the night-wind moaned among the trees, and the twilight crept over the face of the landscape. Each circumstance of their former love was then recalled, and with it the galling reflection, that they had parted to meet no more.

The evening before her intended marriage with di Aranza, while the palace rang with the sounds of festivity, and the light tones of music echoed. from a numerous bridal assembly, she hastened from the scene of gaiety, and retired to her favourite summer-house, that terminated the shrubbery, where she loved so much to wander. It was a clear, cloudless night, sparkling in all the beauty of an Italian sky, and studded with a million tints of richness. The nightingale had commenced her song of melancholy, and the evening breeze, as it wafted on its wings her distant notes of softness, struck with a sensation of death to the widowed heart of the mourner. She recalled the past with a sigh, and remembered when, hanging fondly on the arm of Juan, she had discoursed with him on the silvery loveliness of the night landscape. But hark! a well known voice