gious convictions and a deep sense of duty, than by the naturally overflowing and enthusiastic kindness of her disposition. In founding schools for the young, infirmaries for the sick, and alms-houses for the old and helpless, she had already expended thirty or forty thousand ducats of the Burgomaster's money, who never grudged the supplies, when the poor formed the objects of his bounty, and Constantia was his almoner. To the grievous discomfort of Miss Vanspaacken, that lady was always doomed to be the companion of her charitable visits to the abodes of wretchedness. In vain did she turn up her nose, assume a still sourer and more distasteful expression than usual, and exclaim about the dangers of infection: in vain did she declare that it was horribly ungenteel, not to say indecorous, for two young ladies to be seen coming out of such disreputable-looking hovels :—actuated by a high impression of duty, alike unsolicitous of human applause, and indifferent to invidious misconstruction, Constantia continued her course undaunted, dispensing happiness wherever she moved, and almost worshipped as a ministering angel by the numerous objects of her benevolence.

The charms of female friendship had been added to the gratifications derived from charity; for Jocelyn had often heard her mention, in terms of férvent and unbounded attachment, a young English woman, called Julia Strickland, who had for some time resided at Rotterdam with her parents, though cir19*

VOL. II.

cumstances had since compelled them to take up their abode in the Austrian Netherlands. As to the fire of love, however, she had been hitherto ignorant of its existence, because it had wanted an object on which to fix; but, though dormant, it was not extinct. Jocelyn supplied that object; and when the spark was once awakened, the natural enthusiasm of her temperament soon kindled it into a flame. He was the first noble specimen of human nature that she had ever contemplated; for as to the baser beings with whom she had been hitherto surrounded, she would no more dignify them with the name of men, than would Miranda have bestowed that appellation upon Caliban. Virtually, he was to her what Ferdinand had been to the solitary island-nymph; and her attachment, like that of Prospero's daughter, was sudden and deep, because it partook of surprise not less than of admiration. She was no longer so happy as she had been; she felt an unsatisfied void in her heart; she knew that her bosom enjoyed not its wonted peace; but yet she knew not that her complaint was love.

Will it be believed that Jocelyn, who, from the first moment that he had been transfixed by her large expressive eyes, had never lost the recollection of those glorious orbs-who had cherished the thought of again encountering them, with all the romantic constancy of a first love-who had been so possessed with her charms, even in a transient

glance, as to look with apathy upon every other beauty-who, since he had become acquainted with the being that had thus bewitched his imagination, had seen nothing that was not calculated to exalt and sublimise his passion-will it be believed, that Jocelyn was less devoted to her now, than when he worshipped her as the unknown beauty/ with the large and lustrous eyes? And yet he had not been deluded by his fancy: his warmest anticipations fell infinitely short of the reality: her personal attractions exceeded all that he had pictured in idea; and he had never calculated upon her musical talents, her intellectual endowments, her fervent piety, her unwearied benevolence, and the unassuming modesty that chastened the effulgence of her virtues.

A

Inconsistent as it may sound, it was perhaps this very excess above his hopes that excited in him something like a feeling of disappointment. When she impressed upon him in her discourse the beauty of holiness, the charms of charity, the happiness of virtue, and illustrated by example that which she enforced by precept, he looked up to her with respect, admiration, reverence,-but not with love. He could gaze upon her with delight as a vestal, a saint, a superior being, set apart for high and holy purposes; but he could not fancy the fair enthusiast as a mistress or a wife. Naturally gay and lively himself, he looked for something spirited, sparkling, and vivacious in the partner who was to

cheer his present hours and gladden the decline of life. Constantia was pensive, if not grave; and the seriousness of youth might easily deepen into melancholy in maturer life. She sometimes smiled, but rarely laughed. He liked not a monitress for his wife; still less did he desire a mope: and he was himself startled at the versatility of the human heart, when he recalled the passion of his first impressions, and wound up his present summary of her qualifications, by ejaculating-“No; I feel that I could never love Constantia !"

This conviction received confirmation from the lapse of time: his admiration increased as every warmer sentiment diminished; and he was never less disposed to desire her as a wife, than when she received his most unqualified homage as a woman. An opposite process was unfortunately developing itself in the mind of Constantia: the stranger whom she had at first contemplated with simple admiration, was now converted into an inmate that had become necessary to her happiness; and she kept feeding her heart with a passion that only grew more intense as it became more hopeless.

War had now broken out between England and Holland, a circumstance which in the first instance threw Constantia more than ever into the society of Jocelyn, by occasioning the Burgomaster to make frequent excursions to Amsterdam, and to become deeply implicated in political intrigue and faction; though ultimately it necessitated our hero

to fly suddenly from the asylum he had chosen, leaving the love-stricken Constantia to feel for the first time the depth of the wound that had been inflicted upon her heart.

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"Donder ende blixem !" cried the agitated Burgomaster, as he hurried one evening into Jocelyn's apartment; "I told you that Alderman Staunton should have known better than to consign you to me. Genadigste God! it was a black day, nigro lapide notandus, when you took up your ill-omened abode under my roof! Aha! young man, you have the unlucky mark upon you: Jonas was not a more inauspicious shipmate. I remember, I met the Aansprecker* on the day of your arrival."

"What can possibly have justified such forebodings?" inquired Jocelyn, not a little dismayed at this exordium.

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Hey, Slapperloot! forebodings?" resumed the Burgomaster; "they are something worse than fancies, Signor Cavaliero. You may find that your coming hither has been 'Van den wal in de sloot,' as we say in Holland; out of the frying-pan into the fire. Incidis in Scyllam, young man. I told you I had enemies, villains of the Orange faction, who will swear away a man's life and fortune for a zesthalven or a dubbeltje. Some of these pestilent rogues have not only laid an information be

* Messengers dressed in a funeral garb, who are sent to inform people of the death of their friends.