tholic Church would seem to have its roots almost exclusively in the tender sentiment. In ignorant ages, and among unenlightened people, dependence and fear are the more prominent elements of the religious regards. Wonder is sometimes so largely developed as to impress the mind in an especial manner with supernatural power. Under the very same religious system we are accustomed to distinguish the devoutness of love from the devoutness of fear, and both stages may occur in the history of one mind. Without derogating from either the reality or the strength of the sentiment of religious reverence, these considerations throw great obstacles in the way of our finding a distinct organ of veneration common to all intensely devout natures.

Combe remarks that 'veneration leads to deference for superiors in knowledge, virtue, and rank, as well as in years, and prompts to the reverence of authority. The organ is generally largely developed in the Asiatic head, and the tendency to obedience is strong in the people of that quarter of the globe. Indeed, the hereditary slavery which has descended among them through so many generations may be connected with the prevalence of this disposition.' Again, 'vene

ration may produce also respect for titles, rank, and power, for a long line of ancestry, or mere wealth; and it frequently manifests itself in one or other of these forms when it does not appear in religious fervour.' 'It is likewise the source of the profound awe which some persons feel in visiting ancient temples, Gothic cathedrals, and places of sepulture for the illustrious dead. So interpreted, the most general aspect of the sentiment is that fascination for the signs and tokens of manifested power above dwelt upon. In all the explanations of the feeling of the sublime, the past is shown to be one of the influences that produce it. When a slavish disposition like that of the Asiatics accompanies the tendency to reverence, there must be other concurring causes, and especially an absence of well-developed self-assertion. Combe holds out the organs of veneration and wonder as a 'material guarantee' for the undying persistence of religion in the world. But he has also affirmed the present organ to be large in the Eastern populations, where the most nume rous irreligious sect is to be found

-that is, the followers of Confucius in China-and likewise that it was large in the head of Voltaire, rendering him a devout deist.

1860.]

IDA

A

GREAT confusion of thoughts troubled Ida's mind at the next day's waking-uncomfortable and blurred recollections, images entangled and indistinct.

The dim chapel; the music, solemn and sweet; the uplifted voices. of the nuns, penetrating the still and deepening twilight; and her own sentiment of devout gratitude exalting earthly passion. A vision of the young Countess, trembling, agonizing, worshipping near her; standing in a remote part of the chapel, her father, smiling and whispering with Félicie; an absurd image of D'Entzberg's dog running frightened and yelping at the music, among the little congregation of peasants; while the Baron, pursuing him, cried out to him to be quiet till his own noise drowned the dog's, and he at last knotted a handkerchief tightly round his throat to secure him; the kneeling girls with their fair German faces and braided flaxen hair, casting sidelong looks over their prayer-books at the sight, and tittering in their devotions; and close to herself the figure of Captain Warburton on his knees, forgetting that he was not a Catholic. All these impressions, under that soothing sound of harmony, rising, fainting, and dissolving into the burial-place; quiet and beautiful; solemn yew-trees, graves decorated by loving hands, gardens growing in the place of death; the serene air of summer stealing over the whole, and the light fading in the west; -again the Countess fainting, leaning against a yew tree, and the dark shadow of Potolski cast over the space about her. Florian Geier -a painfully comic figure-astride upon Soldano, reciting, with redundant gesticulation, assisted now and then by the vigorous action of the mule's hind legs, the death of Clarence; and then a glimpse of

Ernest crossing the bridge, pale, harassed, and displeased.

Half waking, half sleeping, these troubled reflections struck upon her brain. The music of the preceding night now joined with the strain from the promenade, and Ida turned in her bed and felt that she must dream on to know what was to come next.

But when Aunt Kitty appeared at her bedside in full activity, and bade her get up and dress, for the Grand-Duke was to enter the town early, and his entrance would be something of a sight, she was eager to rise; and making her toilet quickly, she soon joined her aunt, with the little Antonia, in the garden. Followed by the Warburtons, they proceeded to the road leading to the Neue Strasse, along which the ducal procession was to pass.

The road looked brilliant with its flowery archways and flags, and either side was well lined with people; the whole population of Badheim, peasantry and shopkeepers, pouring out to see the arrival. Kings, queens, princes, dukes,

or heroes never arrive so soon as they ought. No spectacle begins as soon as it is expected; there is a period of anxious anticipation for every pleasure. Germans can soothe their domestic anxieties with tobacco, but tobacco is not enough in an anxiety of this kind; it must be dissipated by some counter excitement-some quarrels, some gossiping, some loud greetings, and noisy animadversions.

On this occasion a contention between two rival suitors concerning one of those pretty peasant girls whom Ida had noticed at prayers in the nun's chapel, occupied some time. The discussion grew angry; friends joined on either side; high words, threats, loud clamour, tears from the girl,

and her final withdrawal from the scene; prolonged comments and arguments amongst those remaining as to what had occurred. And now through the crowd dawned some familiar faces. Madame Stein and Carlotta Schulz were eagerly advancing; and the well-known yelp of the little greyhound announced the approach of Baron Entzberg.

The first carriage of the procession came in view. No great interest attached to it: merely some officers of the royal household. The next contained some of the ladies in waiting. The third excited a sensation-it was the Countess Rosenberg's. She was the idol of the people, and clamorous plaudits and endless agitations of handkerchiefs greeted her.

'Ach! sie ist ganz schön; ja sie ist wunderschön; ja sie ist auch liebenswurdige, die liebe Contesse !' cried the peasant girls in chorus, as they went eagerly forward, flinging small nosegays into her carriage at every word of approbation; and then they whispered among each other, happy would be the man who should be chosen as her man. And then a passing question-Was there any talked of for her yet? Yes, surely the answer went about

surely, was it not well known that Count Ernest Wertheim was betrothed to her? Certainly it was well known, and were they not well matched?-both friends to the poor, both generous, both charitable, both kind-hearted, both handsome?

Ida heard the words. What might they mean? Again and again she heard them. They entered into her soul, they absorbed all her faculties. She heard them sounding in her ears; she saw them, as it were, written before her eyes. The other carriages, containing the Ministers of State and the GrandDuke and Duchess, passed by; and though in one of them Ernest's father filled a place, she was not aware that they were gone. It was idle talk, she said to herself; mere idle talk. But yet how wonderful!-betrothed to Countess Rosenberg. What had his manner been yesterday? cold, and altered.

Had he ever compromised himself; had he ever spoken any words of love deeper than a brother's? And what if she had pondered over looks and tones, answering them with fond clinging thoughts, and investing them with a supreme importance; was not that a fault in her? For what were looks, what were accents ?— How easy to misunderstand, how easy to misinterpret! So urged one voice within her. But another answered, No; those looks cannot be doubted, those tones cannot be misunderstood; such an affection cannot be mistrusted. He is passionate, devoted, and true; he loves me, and what need could

there be of words when the heart was so open, so undisguised?

But others have been deceived when they believed as entirely, the first voice replied; and then the two argued and contended within her soul till that inward fight became too much for her; till the pressure upon her head and heart became stifling and unendurable,' and she tightly grasped Aunt Kitty's arm, entreating to go home. But Aunt Kitty was surrounded. Madame Stein, Carlotta Schulz, and Baron Entzberg were all claiming her attention.

Did you remark the pretty Countess Rosenberg? asked Madame Stein, in her slow drawl, that trebled the length and weight of every sentence.

'Did you observe the Countess Rosenberg? asked Carlotta, finishing her sentence first, though she began last.

6

Ach, du himmel! did you hear that on dit about an intended marriage?' said Baron Entzberg, coming in between them; I believe nothing of it; I believe nothing of it. These people want occupation, and so they will talk; but I tell you it is nothing. Zis has been said before-it has been talked of. Ernest Wertheim has been talked of for Countess Rosenberg some time back; but I speak in confidence. Her mother was but a common market girl. Ach gott! have I not bought kraut of her, and chickens; and have I not, when I

paid her for them, claimed zwei küsse for my receipt?'

It was certainly once intended,' said Carlotta.

"They were much together as children,' said Madame Stein.

'It was perhaps desired by his father,' said Baron Entzberg.

'I assure you the Grand-Duchess's governess spoke of it to me as a decided fact,' said Carlotta.

"That is altogether singular,' said the Baron; but why all this mystery? I will see his Excellency Count Wertheim to-morrow, and question him on the subject.'

'Oh, Aunt Kitty! do-do let us go home,' said Ida.

And Aunt Kitty, herself shaken and alarmed to an extreme degree, was quite willing to comply with her request. They were accompanied by their three friends; but though they talked incessantly, Ida heard nothing of what they said; till at last, when they reached the entrance to Lichtenthal, Baron Entzberg took his leave, and with a compassionate look at her pale and troubled face, said—

Mon enfant ! ma chère Miss Ida, I will see you to-morrow; I will bring you news to-morrow. I will see his Excellency; I will ask him what means this noise. Goodbye, adieu! Arno sneezes; I must go home. He shivers, he desires his little tasse de cafe. He begins the day so; then comes the déjeuner à la fourchette, then a little gouté, then dinner; then café noir, and then our bit sups. Leben sie wohl.'

The Baron turned to go, but as he did so he tripped against a figure advancing close to him; and apologized to Ernest Wertheim for his carelessness. His dog was fidgety; he was thinking of his dog.

'I observe,' replied Ernest, that your dog thinks little of you in return; but that disparity in affection is no uncommon occurrence in the relations of this life. Miss Conway,' addressing Aunt Kitty, 'I have brought a note for you from Madame de Valincourt."

While Aunt Kitty read the note, Ernest walked up and down with the Baron. It contained an invitation to the Conways to join a pic

639

nic party on the following day, to see the old castle of Ytzburg-a fine antiquity, situated in the midst of a wild and remote country, with this great advantage for a party of pleasure, that the roads leading to it were so steep and rugged as to be inaccessible to horses; only oxen could accomplish those laborious ascents, and the conveyance would therefore be an ox wagon-a charming novelty for foreigners, though familiar enough to natives.

Katherine Conway was so nervous that she read the note twice before she could understand it, and then she asked Count Ernest, timidly, if the ruined castle were really worth the expedition?

'I think so,' replied Ernest, turning towards Ida while he spoke; 'the expedition in itself is delightful; the whole road is in the highest degree picturesque. I hope you will go, and I have promised Madame de Valincourt to be one of the party.'

Ida pressed close to her aunt and whispered Go,' in a tone that Aunt Kitty was wholly incapable of resisting. Ernest begged to be allowed to accompany them home, and to wait for Miss Conway's reply to Madame de Valincourt's note.

Baron Entzberg turned back to whisper to Ida

'Assure yourself,' said he, seriously, 'that this noise of the Rosenberg is nothing,' extending his hand to her, which she pressed warmly in return, moved by the cordial kindness that prompted him, and animated now by a full sense of returning happiness. All the vapours of anxiety were driven away, as clouds before the wind, under the influence of Ernest's presence; all the darkness of fear and insecurity disappeared as night at the coming of day.

They went in; the note was written; and while Miss Conway was employed upon it, Ernest was asking Ida if they should be at home that evening? If so, his father proposed to present himself to renew his old friendship with Sir Archibald; and he begged leave to accompany him. Blushingly, eagerly, timidly, Ida engaged that

they should be found at home; and when Ernest departed she ran up to her own room to indulge in the overflow of her joy. The day was passed in an anticipation of the evening. The agitation before the hour of arrival was only to be quelled by music; and Ida seated herself at the pianoforte and poured forth some of her favourite German melodies, not without a concealed desire that the Wertheims should hear her voice as they entered. A wish of the kind that we seek somewhat to veil from ourselves; one in which vanity has a share; but a wish that was at least very natural.

The voice was heard, as was desired; and the father, as was also desired, commented to the son upon its sweetness while he followed the sound. Ida, deeply blushing, rose from her seat at the pianoforte when they came in, and she was introduced to his Excellency Count Wertheim, Ernest's father. She trembled while he took her hand kindly in his, and looked at her with an admiring tenderness.

'Sir Archibald,' said he, 'I congratulate you on your daughter; she inherits all the outward charms of her dear mother!'

Sir Archibald pressed his hand. The sight of him at once recalled his early youth, his early love, his wife, his son-all the impressions that belonged to his better nature. They had been wearing away since he had come to Badheim, under the friction of a stimulating, unnatural excitement; but this moment renewed their intensity. Aunt Kitty saw his softening face and shed some tears, an exhibition of weakness that had the effect of hardening him; and affecting to be unaware of her sentiment, he remarked to her harshly that she had got a disagreeable cold, and that she had probably committed some imprudence to bring it on.

This kind of thing continually occurred between the brother and sister. She was loving, and on the whole, with some occasional spurts of defiance, submissive; but she did not understand him, and it was

a science that she found it impossible to learn.

Count Wertheim seated himself by his old friend. He began to talk of old times, and they travelled together the happiest of journeysthe only journey that is without anxieties-the journey through the past! The Count had once loved Ida von Walden. They spoke of her; they paid to her memory that devoted and complete homage which is the privilege of the dead, which can only be accorded when it is worthless, which we give only to those who are unconscious of the gift. The living, to whom a little of the same courtesy, a little of the same kindness, a little of the same indulgence, a little of the same forbearance, would often be of inestimable value, have it roughly denied to them. They spoke of their youth.

'It is well,' said Sir Archibald, with a deep sigh, 'it is well for those who die young; who do not know the long process of misery that wrinkles our faces; the cheerless watching, the grief without hope, the infirmity without cure; who do not know what it is to go groping among graves-the dreary ruins of affection-to mark out one's own place there, and long to fill it, and long in vain. I cannot, for my own part, doubt that those who die young, die because they are innocent, and that life is the severe chastisement for some unknown crime.'

Aunt Kitty cast up her eyes and held up her hands in horror.

Count Wertheim entered into an argument which he closed with his own conviction, that life was on the whole a gratifying circumstance; but which did not convince Sir Archibald. It is a point, indeed, on which the happy and the unhappy will for ever remain at variance.

Ida sang, and Ernest listened with his whole heart and soul. He leant over the pianoforte, he bent down over the music; he turned over the leaves of the song. Ida's whole face glowed as she felt him so near to her, and the note that she sustained trembled. Count Wertheim looked round; an ex