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 THE DANCE OF DEATH. 27

derest care. A rude wind might blast this fra- gile flower; and therefore I give her to you, as the oldest, the most tried and trusted of my friends, with my whole heart; but upon this condition, that you never yield to her often re- peated wish to learn to dance; for that too vio- lent and exciting exercise, which proved fatal to her mother, which devoted her sisters, even while yet unborn, to death, and which is my terror and aversion; her tender frame and easily agitated disposition, [ am sure, are unable to bear. Will you promise me this?’

“The picture—her picture, had, during his relation, lain before me on the table: its hea- venly smile, and, still more, the tranquil and clear narrative of my friend, had banished from my bosom the last remains of uncomfortable feeling, and awakened with a still livelier emo- tion sympathy with this being su lovely,so worthy to be loved. What could be more fascinating than thus to become the protecting angel of such a creature! The very conviction that I had already involuntarily been so, gave a higher impulse to my love and my confidence. I pro- mised him every thing.

“Let me be brief—brief as the solitary year of my happiness! Business still detained my friend at home, and regard for appearances would not allow me to reconduct to the capital my Amanda, to whom I had not declared my sentiments, and to whom, indeed, it would have been indecent to have done so, while her dearest relations were hardly consigned to the tomb. One plan, however, suggested itself, which ap- peared the more advisable from the advantages which the pure air and tranquil amusements of a country life seemed to promise to her, who was the object of our solicitude.

“The Count, with whom her mother had danced that fatal Dance of Death, now an old man, had long been in possession of the situation formerly held by his father, and was at this time an inhabitant of an estate upon the island. Al- ways attached to the family of the pastor, he offered Amanda a residence in his family, and, on the pretext that her health might suffer from a longer residence in this house of death, we had her immediately removed fromits gloomy images to the more cheerful mansion of the Count.

“Being myself acquainted with her intended protector, I accompanied her thither, and while I strove by every endeavour, to gain her affec- tion, some expressions which escaped her, made me aware that I was already possessed of it. The close of the year of mourning was fixed for our marriage. I had already cast my eye upon an estate in the neighbourhood, which I had resolved to purchase, instead of that which had fallen to rie. Partly with the view of restoring the activity of my friend, partly to escape the pain of being separated from my love, and partly because such matters are generally most advantageously ma- naged by the intervention of a third party, I begged him immediately to set about the nego- tiation for the purchase. He undertook the commission readily, but his own affairs soon

afterwards summoned him to the capital, and he set out.

“The bargain was found to be attended with difficulty. The matter was studiously protracted, in hopes of obtaining a higher price, and at last, as the close of the year approached, I resolved not to wait for the purchase, but fo celebrate our nuptials at once. Amanda had all along enjoyed the best health. My friend engaged for us a simple but comfortable residence in the city, but the Count would not hear of the marriage being performed any where except in his own house. The day was at last fixed; we only wait- ed for Emanuel, who, for some time past, had from time to time put off his arrival. At last he wrote that he would certainly appear on the day of the marriage.

“The day arrived and yet he came not. The Count’s chamberlain entered, and delivered to me a letter, which had been put into his hands the day before, under a cover, in which he was requested to deliver it to me shortly before the ceremony took place.

“It was from Emanuel, and ran as follows:— “ Do not be anxious should I not appear at the marriage, and on no account put off the cere- mony. The cause of my detention is for the good of all of us. You yourself will thank me for it.’

“This new enigma disconcerted me; but a bridegroom must endeavour to conceal his un- easiness, and a singular chance made me at last regard the unexpected absence of Emanuel, which, in fact, I attributed to caprice, as not altogether to be regretted. The Count had, not- withstanding my entreaties, made preparations for a ball, at which, after the ceremony had been quietly performed in the chapel, our union was to be publicly announced to the,company. I knew how much the mind of my »80 prone to repose faith in omens of every kind, would be agitated by the very idea of dancing.

“I succeeded in calming Amanda’s mind as to the prolonged absence of her brother; but I felt that I began to regard with a feeling of op- pression the idea of his arrival, which might ogd mentarily take place. SF

“The guests assembled. The young people were eagerly listening to the music, which began to echo from the great hall. I was intent only on my own happiness; when, to my dismay, the old Count, stepping up, introduced his son to my Amanda, with a request that she would open the ball, while the young Countess, his daughter, offered her hand to me. I scarcely noticed her; in the confusion with which I ran up to the Count, to inform him that Amanda never danced, and had never learnt todo so. Father and son were equally astonished; the possibility of such an event had never occurred to them.

“¢ But,’ exclaimed the son,“ can such a pat- tern of grace and dignity require to learn what nature herself must have taught her?’

“Amanda, who perhaps attributed my con- fusion to a feeling of shame at her ignoranee, looked at me entreatingly, and whispered to me,