THE

RECLUSE OF NORWAY.

CHAPTER I.

WHILE the wretched Theodore was pursuing his melancholy journey, under a summer sky that mocked his misery with its brightness, every thing appeared to go on as serenely as before, in the domestic circle of Count Lauvenheilm.

But how different was the truth from the seeming! the scorpions of fear and remorse were in the breast of the Count; dismay and grief in that of Ellesif.

On the memorable morning of Theodore's departure, Ellesif had been accidentally seized with a fainting fit as she was rising, and Anastasia had hastened across the vestibule to her sister's boudoir for some drops she was accustomed to take upon such occasions.

She was seeking them in a closet at one end of the room, when Theodore entered. The single ray of light, through the window-shutter, discovered him to her, but though she had opened the blinds of the closet, she screened herself from observation, by quickly closing the door: and as her only covering was a silk night-gown, she kept perfectly still for fear of being perceived.

His appearance at that hour in her sister's apartment, certainly surprized her; and perhaps the curiosity was par

donable, which prompted her to peep through the crevice of the door, and watch his actions. She saw him lay down the letter, and kiss Ellesif's glove; and she heard his heavy sighs as he departed.

Never before had Anastasia felt such astonishment and indignation: she could not mistake the meaning of what she saw; and she had been so habituated to consider an unequal attachment as an impossibility, and Theodore, from his doubtful situation, so much her sister's inferior, that although daily witnessing looks and expressions that betrayed their secret to every domestic in the house, she had never, till now, had the slightest suspicion of any particular intelligence between them.

She paused for a moment to consider how she was to act. As Ellesif's elder sister, she stood in the light of a mother to her it was her duty, therefore, to save her from an improper connection. Without further scruple she took up the letter, returned to her sister, gave her the drops, saw her quite recovered, and then retired to her own room to begin her toilet.

Whilst her maids were laying out her clothes and ornaments, she read the letter. Her offended dignity was soothed by the certainty that this was Theodore's first declaration, that so far from presuming upon a return of attachment, he ventured only to ask at present for the continuance of Ellesif's friendship.

But in the trinket inclosed, she saw a snare for her sister's honour: that accepted, she must hereafter admit his pretensions. It was better then, to silence Theodore's presumptuous hopes, by returning this gage d'amour; and to conceal the whole affair from Ellesif, lest she might be brought on to love the man she could not but pity.

Having arrived at this conclusion by the time her toilet was finished, Anastasia calmly folded up the pretty bauble in several envelopes, and directing it to Senor Guevara,

instructed one of the grooms to ride after him on the road to Gran, and deliver it from Countess Ellesif.

"It is something the Senor has forgotten," she said, carelessly; no further instructions were necessary, and the servant departed.

There was little chance of Theodore's discovering that the letter was not indeed sent from Ellesif; for both sisters wrote so exactly alike, that even to themselves no difference in any of the characters was perceptible.

Anastasia had rather a kind than a hard heart, and could she have guessed the sterling value of Theodore's attachment, or known the wretchedness she was entailing on her sister, even her severity against uncertain engagements would have been softened, and she would have left the event of this letter to Providence: but judging of love by what she felt rather than by what she inspired, she knew it was very conquerable when pride and interest and worldly blame were opposed to its progress. "Romantic passions are all in idea," she heard said continually by persons who sought pleasurable impressions from so many objects that none could make a profound one: she now sincerely believed, that according to this doctrine, Ellesif would forget Theodore's existence in less than three months, and that Theodore would fancy himself in love with somebody else.

By his own confession, he had offended her father; that circumstance was an additional reason for preventing Ellesif from forming a rash engagement with him. Yet on this point Anastasia's good nature was visible. As he had displeased her father, she determined not to heighten the Count's anger by telling him of this last indiscretion; and having thus settled the whole business amicably with her conscience, she went (looking like an augel) to join her sister.

Ellesif was disappointed that Theodore did not appear to hand them to their carriage. The scrupulous politeness of that age always demanded this attention from the gentlemen in every family, and it was one of Theodore's most delicious offices to supply the place of Count Lauvenheilm on occasions like the present. She was depressed for a while, as she coupled this neglect with his strange emotion the preceding evening; but as her father also was absent, she concluded that some important business occupied them both, and that perhaps it was concern for some political anxiety of the Count's that caused Theodora's discomposure. Consoling herself, therefore, with the prospect of seeing him quietly in the evening, she rallied her spirits, and strove to suit herself to the festivity of a heartless marriage.

The tedious ceremony, and still more formidable ceremonial of the bride's introduction to all the bridegroom's kindred and friends, with the other et cætera of health's compliments, salutes, and presents, reminded Ellesif of her gay friend Gaston's remark, that a wedding was either as dismal as a funeral, or as ridiculous as a puppet-show; and that he would never marry until he could be married unawares, as men are killed in battle.

Wearied with a tedious morning and a tiresome dinner, Ellesif gladly obeyed the signal for return; and leaving Madame la Baronne to her new dignity and her coxcombical husband, she sprung into the carriage that was to convey her to home and Theodore.

The sisters reached the government-house, they alighted from the carriage, they entered the drawing room: still Theodore appeared not. In passing through the hall, one of the servants told them that Count Lauvenheilm had dined out, and would not return to supper.

Ellesif hoped Theodore was in his company; but a vague apprehension of something distressful (which she afterwards