the nounced, de Sorville loosed himself from grasp of the almost-fainting Imogen, and, resigning her into the arms of Beauvilliers, with a countenance in which heroism and tenderness were blended, but with a firm, a dignified, and determined, air, he left the room. The silence of amazement, of ecstacy unutterable, shed around its stilly spell; many minutes elapsed, and all was still delirium. De Beauvilliers, still entranced, hung over, in doubtful bliss, his precious burthen; Imogen, dying the death of joy, lifeless, yet with life, panted on his bosom, till her heart catching a vital impulse from the throb of his, she awakened to a sense of her situation; their eyes met for the first time since the birth of their felicity, transport illumined the mutual glance, and they gazed round for the participation of that God-like friend who had been the creator of their bliss-but he was gone. A sense of all he had sacrificed for their sakes flushed on their minds, and the burn ing glance of novel and sanctioned love was mellowed by the tear of mourning -friendship; they withdrew from each other, and wept apart. In the sympathy of their sorrow again they approached; their tears mingled as they flowed, and lost their bitterness as they mingled;-in the similitude of their kindred feelings, the halfbreathed exclamations of love and happiness breathed on their lips; but, amidst the murmurs of exquisite felicity, gratitude poured its blessings on the head of him whose virtue had bestowed it. CONCLUSION. No more the thirsty entrance of this soil SHAKESPEARE. THE chevalier de Sorville fled from the chateau de St, Dorval to the villa de Fiora. On the preceding night his servant had arrived with horses from Avignon, and by the following morning every thing was in secret readiness for his departure; for im pulse held no influence over his conduct, and his actions were always the result of reason, of virtue, and of truth. The loving and beloved beings, whom his goodness had snatched from the lowest abyss of virtuous misery to the highest degree of all human felicity, respected his commands too highly to venture on their immediate violation. But, as friendship only can administer to suffering friendship, and as decorum prevented the countess de St. Dorval from continuing the duke de Beauvilliers as her guest, or from uniting herself to him who still wore the "customary suit of solemn black" for another, after a few precious days, snatched by love from the impious mandate of cold propriety, de Beauvilliers tore himself from the pure delights of hallowed tenderness, sacrificed his wishes to gratitude and prudence, and followed his great and generous friend to his voluntary exilement. But sweet are the sacrifices which virtue exacts; and the felicity of de Beauvilliers' heart was now sanctified by the approval of his reason and his honour. In the absence of her lover and her friend, the happy Imogen resigned herself to the most delicious reveries; even this enforced and temporary absence gave a new character to her passion, and while it bestowed repose on the poignant agitation of her feelings, it mingled with the pure and lively ardor of a mistress the tender and anticipated solicitudes of a wife. Meantime an epistolary correspondence supplied the place of a more intimate intercourse; and in the constant commutation of refined and elegant sentiments, warmed by mutual tenderness, and animated by playful wit, the sympathy of the mind as well as of the heart was still evinced and still discovered with new and reciprocal sensations of pride and transport. In less than three months from the day of his departure, the duke de Beauvilliers returned to the chateau de St. Dorval; and, in the presence of the friends, de |