bing heart! it will break-it will burst.". Turning suddenly round at these words, she threw herself on her knees before a large crucifix that stood on one side the grating, exclaiming, as she embraced the feet of the image:"Save me, help me, thou husband of my soul!" and fixing her streaming eyes upon the figure, her lips continued moving for some time, in fervent though inaudible prayer. Fortified by this act of devotion, she arose with much more composure; her features were animated by a religious enthusiasm, as she again passed her arm through the grating, took Jocelyn's hand, which she tenderly clasped, and exclaimed: "Farewell for ever! May the blessing of Almighty God be upon you!" The same parting benediction was then solemnly pronounced upon Julia, who alternately pressed the extended hand to her bosom, and covered it with kisses and tears. At this moment the bell again tolled; the door of the inner room opened; the bishop and a train: of attendants entered to escort her to the altar, where she was to receive the veil and pronounce the irrevocable vow; and Constantia, raising her arms to Heaven, and chanting in a low and still tremulous voice: "Ancilla Christi sum," walked slowly out of the room. As the door that shut her out for ever from the world was closed behind her, the sound smote the heart of Julia, with 22* VOL. III. an effect as death-like as if she had seen her friend lowered into the grave, and had heard the earth rattling upon her coffin. Fixing her eyes upon the door through which she had passed, she remained for some time gazing at it in a stupor of bewildered grief; when, as if suddenly recollecting herself, she called in a low and hollow voice,"Constantia !" After a short pause she repeated it in a louder tone; and again a third time in a still more elevated key; but finding her unavailing cry succeeded by a dead silence, her whole frame became agitated with convulsive heavings. She uttered a low shuddering groan, burst immediately afterwards into a shriek of hysterical laughter, and, sinking into the arms of her husband, was conveyed out of the apartment in a passion of ungovernable grief. THE CONCLUSION. "But mistress know yourself; down on your knees, で On their return to the house where the marriage had been celebrated, Jocelyn found a casket addressed to himself, which had been left during their absence at the convent. He broke it open, and discovered a bundle of papers, together with a long letter from Constantia, of which he eagerly commenced the perusal. It began with stating, that as the immense fortune left her by her father had always been an incumbrance, and was now become absolutely useless, she was under the necessity of requesting her friends to divide the burthen among them, so far as to lighten her own load; though she had already enriched her convent, of which the Abbess her distant relation, and had besides retained sufficient for all the pur was poses of charity. In this emergency she trusted that her dear friends would accept as a marriage gift, the extensive estates of Saint Ouen in Normandy, which had devolved to her in right of her mother, and of which she herself was quite incompetent to take the charge; and referring to the papers in the box, which contained an irreversible conveyance of the property in question, she requested, that if they resided in the mansion, its name might be changed to the Chateau de Compton. As the house in which the nuptial feast had been held, and which she had herself taken pains to decorate, might from those circumstances possess some value in their eyes, independently of its convenience as a Parisian residence, she requested that they would still further oblige her by accepting it; and after renewing her blessings and good wishes for their happiness, she concluded by stating, that although her resolution never to see them again would remain inflexible, and cemented by a solemn vow, yet she should be happy in still occasionally communicating with them by letter. At the bottom of the box was a separate parcel for Mrs. Walton, in which was found a most affectionate letter, and a conveyance of property that ensured her a competent provision for the remainder of her life. Thinking it might have a soothing influence upon Julia's agitated mind, Jocelyn read to her the letter addressed to himself; but its effect was far from tranquilising, for these affecting proofs of her friend's unbounded generosity and tenderness, only melted her into a fresh flood of tears, and increased the pang of separation by showing the inappreciable value of what she had lost. Jocelyn, too, upon this second perusal, made a discovery that still added to the incalculable obligations she had conferred upon him, for he recognised, by the hand-writing, the munificent friend who had some time before sent him a box of gold to extricate him from his difficulties, and an anonymous monitory letter for the regulation of his conduct. By far the most welcome part of her communication, and that which they both valued above all her gifts, lavish as they were, was the promise of her still allowing an interchange of their minds by means of correspondence. To Julia, especially, this was a consolation that much alleviated the bitterness of her grief. Constantia was not now so utterly dead to, and severed from, the world, as she had previously seemed to be. Their spi rits could still meet and embrace one another; their hearts could sympathise together; their intellects could participate in the same ideas: it was a privilege too estimable not to be immediately exercised, and both Jocelyn and Julia availed themselves of it without delay, by writing an answer to her communication, couched in such terms as the most unbounded gratitude and affectionate devotedness could suggest. |