ought not to forgive me. We are separated for ever through my fault, through my unworthy mistrust. But if you think proper, you may communicate to him our present conversation."

And with this it ended. But now commenced the compunction of my conscience.

Oh, what talisman is there indeed against the bitter crushing feeling of having been unjust towards a nobleminded friend, having cruelly wounded his heart-his dearest feeling, to have destroyed his faith in the object of his affection, and blighted his happiness? And for such an act there can be no consolation! Oh, William Brenner, now I understand the meaning of thy look, full of condemnation, full of god-like sorrow over me! But if thou knewest that this night I have bathed my couch with tears, and yet in the midst of my pain experienced a proud joy over thee, and thanked heaven that I have thy image so brightly reposing in my breast, wouldst thou-wouldst thou not forgive me?

I spent the night without closing an eye, and impatiently awaited the dawn of morning. I hoped that with it Lennartson would come. The morning came, gray and damp cold; but no Lennartson, no little sunbeam to shine into my benighted mind. Hour after hour passed on; expectation became insufferable; read I could not, music was a lament, and the most friendly expression of sympathy from human creatures only increased my anguish.

Suddenly amid this state of feeling, the simple adage came into my mind: "What pains the heel, pains not the heart." And instantly "the bewitched mountain"

* The bewitched mountain-Besvarsbacken; a mountain in the vicinity of Stockholm.

rose before my imagination and I thought it would afford me particular gratification to ascend it.

I felt the need of seeking some means for tranquillising my mind by bodily fatigue and with an advertisement from the Journal du Jour in my reticule, I wandered in the fog and cold towards the south, up the lofty, heaven-aspiring mountain, and along the endless street leading to it. Our temper of mind often imparts its colour to the objects which surround us: but on that day my state of feeling was in deep sympathy with the scenes which presented themselves to my view. The advertisement led me to a dwelling where mould and damp covered the walls. No wonder, therefore, that dropsy was a tenant there. In the long street, consisting of a number of wretched buildings, I saw a crowd of pale children clothed in tatters, old women and men-living pictures of indigence, disease, and decrepitude and beheld misery in all stages of human life, and in all shades of grief and woe.

And among all those living shadows there was yet probably not one that would have exchanged his lot with me, could he have seen into my heart. Ah, the severest kind of misery is not that which exhibits its rags in the street by day, and passes the night in some lowly hut. It is that which smiles in elegant society, which shows to the world a cheerful exterior, while grief is gnawing at its heart.

Had I been more cheerful in spirits, I should have thought with pleasure on the covered pitchers in many a hand, and on the warm soup which charity prepares at a never-extinguished fire, and which these poor people now carried home still smoking hot for their dinners.

On my return home I was in hopes of obtaining some word or intelligence; but no, nothing. Some hours have now elapsed; perhaps Lennartson will come in the evening.

Evening.

No! he did not come. By intrigue I have procured some tidings respecting Brenner. He never went home last night.

March 3d.

Another sleepless night. Another morning come. Whither shall I go to-day?

"When woman is no longer her own friend, she goes to her brother, who is so still, that he may pour the balm of consolation into her drooping spirits, and quicken her by his cheering influence."

These words of Jean Paul inspired me with a desire to go to my Selma; but I felt ashamed of the confessions which I had to make. At that moment she came to me with her beautiful eyes full of tender inquiry and heartfelt concern. I was constrained to open my heart to her. And how tenderly did she console me, how warmly did she defend me against my self-accusations, and how clearly did she foresee the hour of reconciliation! Ah, I dare not venture to hope for it! Did I but know how it is now with him, what are his present feelings towards me.

In the Evening.

Now I know. Lennartson came to our house in the afternoon, but not in the best spirits.

And well indeed that he did come. To have endured it another night, would have been a hard matter for me. To my look of inquiry he immediately responded, saying:

"I have seen Brenner just now, and communicated to him the purport of our last interview."

"Well, and what did he say?" asked I, almost breathless.

"He said that he himself surmised a misunderstand→ ing of some kind was the cause of- -of what he did

not say."

"And, nothing besides?' "He added:

If any one had told me any thing bad of her, I should not have believed it.'"

"And was that all? Did he not say any thing more about this affair?"

"No!" rejoined Lennartson, with evident emotion. "But it was obvious that he had suffered, and is still suffering greatly in mind. What unhappy misunderstanding has brought you into a state of discord, and divided two beings who, I thought—but you are not parted yet! It is impossible! I know Brenner's heart. Commission me with a word, a cordial word to him-let me lead him to your feet."

"Impossible! I beseech you take no further step in the affair. You yourself would not desire it, if you knew all. Tell me only, do you think Brenner entertains any ill-will towards me?"

"Resentment is a feeling which has no place in Brenner's breast, least of all against you. What he expressed about you he said with seriousness, and in the spirit of tender affection."

"I may hope then, I suppose, that he does not de

test me.

Well, that is a great point in favour of the case. I feel sincerely thankful to you for your kind. ness."

"Rather thank me by making me the messenger of a word of comfort to my friend. He looked to me, as if he had not slept, nor would be able to sleep for some nights to come."

"Tell him, if you think proper, that I have had as little rest since and now let us not talk any more

about this subject.

It is one of those which must en

tirely depend on the guidance of Providence."

Lennartson then bowed with profound seriousness, and, observing my tears, he took my hand, and said some gentle words with the voice of an angel to me. what a good, kind-hearted man he is, too!

Oh,

It is almost midnight. I am much calmer. I have been relieved from painful suspense. There is an end, it seems, to this friendship, which has been such an abundant source of pleasure to me-which ought to have extended to eternity-terminated by my own fault.

I found a precious pearl in the stream of life, and cast it heedlessly away. I did not deserve it.

"If any one had told me any thing bad of her, I should not have believed it." What crushing reproof for me in these affectionate words!

But all this I fully deserve, and, therefore, I will bear it without complaining. Sleep this night I cannot, nor probably for several nights. But this is of no consequence, if I only knew that he would enjoy repose.

The elements without are in a state of agitation. The clouds, chased by the northwind, rush on over the lofty towers of the palace. The lamps on the bridge, and on