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the heart. The beauty of Annette had excited his passions, her innocence had inspired him with hope. He saw her increasing tenderness, and with all the eloquence of which he was master strengthened the prepossession : but the rectitude of her principles, and the vigilance of her mother, who seemed unwilling to countenance his longer stay, filled him with distrust; and under pretence of a final interview, he succeeded in persuading her to meet when her mother had gone to the neighbouring village.

The long-expected evening at last arrived, and Annette was punctual to her appointment. As the bell from the neighbouring convent chimed the hour of vespers, and the peasants prepared for their bolero, she stationed herself at the extremity of the dance. In an instant a figure, muffled in a night-cloak, stood beside her. Annette,” he said, do you not know me?” Tremblingly she caught his hand, and removed with him from the scene of rustic revelry. The night was calm and serene, and the nightingale from the distant woodlands had already commenced her song: the moon shone bright in the heavens, and a heavy languor breathed in the evening gale, that communicated to the soul a corresponding sensation of voluptuousness. The stranger seated himself by the bank of a mountain streamlet, and motioned Annette to his side. He talked to her of their approaching separation, and of the distance that would soon remove them from each other, and spoke to the heart of his victim. “I shall wander, Annette,” he exclaimed, “ to other scenes; but my soul will be ever desolate. Amid the din of war, and the gaieties of fashion, I shall call to mind the evening rambles we have taken, and cling to the days that are past. But you, my love, you will still be happy, and, in the arms of some worthier person, may forget the stranger who adores you.” He paused-he pressed her convulsively to his heart, and kissed her glowing cheek. Tears were the only answer she could make, but the passions of her soul spoke in her flushed bosom and palpitating heart. Don Manuel observed his triumph:

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he folded her gently to his breast, and roved with a wanton eye over the charms which the light Spanish garb but half concealed; and eventually succeeded in profaning that holy sanctuary of love, which it was worse than sacrilege to have violated. Night, tranquil night, was the only witness of the poor girl's disgrace, and the summer gale the only tell-tale that whispered the story of her degradation. With faltering steps she rose from the bank where she was seated, and moved onwards to the cottage. Don Manuel followed at a distance, and came up with her as she reached her home. With the eloquence of desperate infatuation, he cautioned her to fly from the village, where every scene would but serve to remind her of her disgrace. He promised to write to her mother, and request her to follow them; and at last succeeded in persuading her to enter his chariot, which was stationed at a trifling distance from the cottage.

On their arrival at Seville, Don Manuel paid that deference to his mistress which her desolate situation required. She seemed grateful for his kindness, but pined in excess of melancholy. She was like some tender flower transplanted from its kindred soil, to bloom and wither in a foreign land. Still she never complained: and it was only in the sweet hopelessness of her smile that the secret of her sorrow could be discovered. In the long summer twilight she would love to seat herself by her favourite harp, and play some plaintive air that reminded her of the home of her infancy. The thoughts of her childhood would then rush over her soul, and she would weep from the bitter reflections they inspired. But youth" is incapable of lasting grief, and the gay associates of Don Manuel were ill calculated to cherish the softer emotions of the soul. Annette gradually improved in spirits, and would often escape from the bitterness of the moment, to the refined flattery of her admirers. This, though at first accepted as mere opiate for grief, soon became necessary to her existence; and, ere a few months had elapsed, the once tender, melancholy Annette was

toasted among the debauchees of Seville as the dashing mistress of Don Manuel. So complete a transformation of character was the gradual work of time: it commenced in flattery, and terminated in the rain of its victim. Among the profligate acquaintances of her seducer was a young man who paid assiduous conrt to her beauty. He was witty, accomplished, and well calculated to excite favourable sentiments in the weak breast of a woman. He told her she was handsome, and she believed it; and, under pretence of excessive sensibility, estranged her affections from her former protector. When the heart of a female is once led astray, inevitable ruin must ensue. Such was the case with Annette; she rushed blindly from vanity to folly, from folly to vice, and completed her destruction by eloping with her paramour from the palace of Don Manuel. A duel with his rival ensued; and by the death of his antagonist he was compelled to quit Spain. To heal his wounded feelings, he wandered from clime to clime, a helpless, hopeless pilgrim, and endeavoured in vain to escape from the settled blight of his own soul. In spite of her desertion, he still loved Annette, and her image was ever present to his mind. He wrote often to his friends concerning her, but was informed in reply, that her character was blighted, her principles utterly destroyed.

Time rolled, but Don Manuel was still the victim of an almost incurable gloom. Two years had now elapsed since he last quitted his native land; and during that interval he had been a wanderer on the face of the earth. He had roved among the sunny climes of Italy, and visited the consecrated ground of ancient Greece. He had lived in England, the darling seat of love and freedom; and deeply studied the characters of mankind, and the laws of nations; and resolved at last to return home an accomplished traveller.

The sun was setting as he reached bis native Seville, from which he had so long been absent. A sigh escaped his bosom while he thought of the past, and reflected on his present situation. On arriving at the great gates of the prison, a numerous crowd had collected. Don Manuel stopped to survey them, and beheld workmen busy in the erection of a scaffold. He inquired the reason of the assemblage, and was informed that on the morrow the celebrated courtezan, Annette de Sevigné, was to be executed for the murder of her child. Shocked at such unexpected intelligence, he requested permission to see her, and with some difficulty was allowed by the gaoler to have one parting interview with her previous to the arrival of the confessor.

On entering the dungeon at the appointed time, he beheld an elegantly-formed female leaning by the grated casement, and gazing with fixed interest on a portrait. She turned round at the noise of approaching footsteps, and disclosed the features of Annette. But the softness that once pervaded her countenance was gone, and a flush of conscious pride reigned there in its stead. She recognized Don Manuel at a glance, and with a haughty movement beckoned him from her presence. “Annette, he exclaimed, in a mournful voice,“ do you forget your friend?"-" Forget him," she replied, yes ;

all is forgotten now but the sense of wrong and the desire of revenge. But I have had it,” she shouted out with the phrensy of passionate delirium, “and shall die amply gratified." cro Dearest Annette,'

" resumed her lover, " listen, if not to me, at least to a superior power : to-morrow those beautiful limbs will be exposed to the gaze of thousands; that countenance to public derision. But though your death must thus inevitably occur, there is a God above before whom your thoughts are registered, and to whom you must make ample atonement. Repent, then, while time yet permits : dare but to be virtuous, and you will still be happy.”—“ Happy,” said the murderess, with a burst of scornful derision, “yes; I have once known happiness; but who was he that deprived me of it? I was happy in the bosom of my family; happy among my native inountains. But even there a seducer discovered me; he found me blooming like a

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flower on its parent stem; and having rifled its sweetness, left it to wither and to die. Speak-do you

know such a man?”

Dearest girl,” résumed Don Manuel, “ by the memory of those happy days, by the affection you have ever evinced to your mother, to that parent who nurtured your earliest childhood, I implore you to save your own soul. Trust me, there is a better world, love, where, though the time of our separation is tedious, we may yet meet again."- “Can that be a world of happiness, where even the sedacer can find access ?" resumed Annette: “

: "away with your wretched cant; I seek not a better world than the one I must so shortly quit. I have sought pleasure, I have found it; and now that my course is finished, I will sink, like the setting sun, emblazoned in tenfold splendor. You tell me there is a God; that he is the guardian of virtue: why fell not his thunderbolt on the head of the seducer, when the sanctuary of innocence was profaned ?"--At this instant the turnkey entered, and the heavy bell from the dungeon-tower announced the approach of twilight. Don Manuel gazed at the prisoner, as she stood with folded arms in an attitude.of scornful majesty. “ Can this be the young peasant,” he mentally exclaimed, “lovely, innocent, as I once knew her ?” and a tear sprang to his eye at the recollection. “ Farewell, my poor girl," he resumed ;

we part to meet no more in this world : and will you not vouchsafe one look of kindness ?” The prisoner started at his words ; her voice lost its firmness, and a sigh escaped her bosom. « Farewell," she sobbed out ; « from my very soul I forgive you; for oh! can I bear enmity against him who first won my infant heart? You look now as you looked when I first knew you, and the appeal is irresistible."-- The conversation was here interrupted by the approach of the confessor, and the order for strangers to retire. Don Manuel slowly quitted the dungeon, and with one parting look of the deepest affection closed the sullen gates of the prison.

In a state of disquietude he returned to bis lonely

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