Page:The Literary Magnet 1825 vol 4.djvu/229

 thinking or acting. Not to attend to engagements of this kind, is allowed by all lovers to be a crime; but in the present case, the neglect was quite unpardonable. The affair was inexplicable. She waited an hour in a state of the most cruel anxiety, during which her heart was torn with the conflicting passions of grief, shame, and vexation; when at length she had overcome the effect of those feelings, she determined on calling to her aid her long-lost family pride. She was ashamed of her condescension in having made choice of a man of unknown family. The extasy of passion had now subsided—her reason had gained the ascendancy, and she resolved to retrace the false step she had taken, return immediately to the Castle, and forget her lover altogether. The former part of this decision she achieved without any trouble, by using the same means to deceive the watchmen that she had practised the hour before; but the latter she found more difficult than she had anticipated.

Her lover was not however so culpable as the incensed Emily imagined. He had not failed to attend some hours before the appointed time, in order to be in perfect readiness to meet his fair bride; and while waiting with anxious impatience to receive her, the form of a veiled nun presented itself; he sprang from the place of concealment, clasped her in his arms, and in an instant was seated by her side; and having ordered the driver to use the utmost dispatch in conveying them to church, he again and again thanked his companion, with all the ardour of the most devoted affection, for the mark of confidence with which she was now blessing him. The postillion was not backward in obeying the orders of his master; and an hour’s ride found them at the entrance of the sanctuary, at whose altar they were to be united for ever. Frederick alighted, and was preparing to assist his fair companion, but no sooner had her foot pressed the consecrated ground, than she vanished from before him, and left him in a state of amazement and agony, which it were vain to attempt to describe.

As soon as he could collect his scattered thoughts, he determined to return to the woods, but the shock which he had received was so violent that he sank to the earth, unable to endure the conflicting emotions by which he was haunted; and when he recovered, he found himself in his own room, attended by his faithful servant.

Night was fast approaching, and desirous of being left alone to meditate on the events of the day, he dismissed his attendant; but the agony of his mind prevented sleep from visiting his eyelids. What, however, was his horror on observing the door open and the form of a nun approach his couch! she remained fixing her cold death-like eye on him for an hour, and then vanished as before. In this manner was the unfortunate lover tormented every night;—the figure presenting itself always at the hour which was appointed for the meeting of the lovers. At length the annoyance became so distressing, that he obtained leave of absence, and determined on visiting Eichsfeld: even here he was destined to be subjected to the same unwelcome intrusion; and the circumstance at length preyed on his spirits to a degree, which rendered his melancholy a subject of observation to his brother officers, who, however, were wholly ignorant of its cause. At length he determined to relate the circumstance to one confidential friend, an old lieutenant,