never "No, no," said madame, 66 mind Ephene's nonsense; she is a self-willed girl, and I will not have her consulted." Ephene, though silent, was by no means satisfied with the Esculapian's doctrine, and after he was gone, attempted to remonstrate with her mother on adopting his prescriptions. "Dear mother, I am sure that is not right; I am sure no one ought to lie in so weak a state without nourishment and I shall make some jelly, notwithstanding Doctor Kropoff, and give it to the poor stranger when he awakes." "I will not have you so opinionative, Ephene," answered madame; "Doctor Kropoff knows better than you do, and I hope you will not dare to disobey him.” Ephene was so accustomed to lose her point by urging it, that she did not now hope for success from farther remonstrance. She therefore offered none. But after her mother was gone to bed, she made jelly and broth privately, and in the course of the night administered a good portion to her patient, who rallied so much the next morning as to inquire where he was, and to express his gratitude to his young nurse. Her plan of cure seeming thus far successful, she was no way delighted at the reappearance of Doctor Kropoff, who soon arrived, and, consistently enough, concluded his medicine had been the only agent in the patient's convalescence. Ephene permitted him his triumph, not apprising him that she had given the invalid no opportunity of benefiting by it. He prescribed a quantity more, as well as several operations, which the fair nurse, who showed unusual obstinacy on this occasion, was very unwilling to have put in force. "Mother, I am certain this is not suitable, and that Doctor Kropoff is not taking the right means to cure this poor fellow, and I very much doubt if he knows how. You saw how much better his patient was this morning, and how exultingly he ascribed the change to his physic, which he thought I had administered-but I did no such thing." "You did not administer the phy. sic?" interrupted her mother; "then you were very unjustifiable, and I am very angry with you. I will take care it is not omitted to-night, and if you disobey Doctor Kropoff, I must nurse the Russian myself, though it will make me ill to sit up, as you very well know." The poor girl thus missed her object, by asserting, in her earnestness, a circumstance which she had designed not to betray. All the prescriptions were adopted that night, yet subsequently the invalid relapsed. Kropoff expressed no surprise, but ordered additional remedies, which day after day were applied; yet day after day, though the Russian still lived, he seemed, if possible, to grow worse. Ephene implored a discontinuance of the prescriptions, since it was evident they did no good; but madame had implicit faith in Kropoff, who however began to look more mysterious and significant than at first, and upon one occasion brought with him a brother Esculapian to examine the patient. They were in solitary consultation for a long time, and at length repairing to madame, she, with some difficulty culled from out a vast pile of technical, logic, the information that they considered he must inevitably die. so, I fear, it must be-medical skill cannot save in this instance." The Esculapian now took his final leave, the lady having first discharged a firstrate Esculapian account, with every prospect of a similar outlay shortly, for the interment of her guest. All this time Ephene was watching by him, now being given to understand each hour would most likely be his last. Father Timothy, too, watched and prayed, and with deep earnestness did she join in his petitions : never before had she prayed with such enthusiastic sincerity: her heart beat for the dying stranger as it would have beat for her mother, or her brother, or any being most dear to her. She had scarcely quitted the bed-side, except, indeed, sometimes to steal an hour or two of rest in the day-time, for she would never commit her charge for a night to the fidelity and attention of any deputy, not excepting even Elizabeth. She was now permitted to adopt her own method of cure, rather as an experiment than with any other view, for madame was too implicit a disciple of Doctor Kropoff to imagine that the bounds of possibility extended to the Russian's recovery, when he had asserted to the contrary. Accordingly, Ephene took his treatment entirely into her own hands, and madame was excessively puzzled, when, at the end of another week, she found he was still living. Her still increased perplexity and Ephene's exultation may be conceived, when the officer, freed from the fever which had oppressed him, attained sufficient strength to sit up, declaring himself almost without pain. But she was quite convinced that his ultimate recovery was impracticable. "Oh," she said to herself, "it is only the evanescent rally which often happens before the final exhaustion: he cannot live-it is impossible, or Doctor Kropoff would not have given him over. My dear child, do not deceive yourself by fancying you can cure him; you had better not waste your own health in nursing him any longer. Go to rest, and I'll take care he is not neglected, though I am sure it is foolish to suppose he may be saved." assiduous nurse, "I can save him; I know it is only tender care and simple remedies that will do it. Kropoff is not an advocate of either, and I wish he had never come near him." "It quite provokes me to hear you dispute Doctor Kropoff's skill. What should you know about it?" "I know very little; but, dearest mother, I appeal to you only to see what I can do. Did I not cure Elizabeth, when she cut herself by a fall?" now. "Yes, your care and your simples did that, it is true; but you cannot suppose they will carry you through However, take your own way. Simple remedies are all very fine, and you may have whatever you please to get-only, I say, do not expect suc cess. With this cold encouragement Ephene returned to her occupation. She might have had some misgivings, for she knew nothing of medical science, except what she had gathered from two or three old books in the library. She depended chiefly on her knowledge of herbs, and on a perception that enabled her to adapt to simple injuries the simple remedies with which she was acquainted. Of course she would never have attempted to manage a complicated disorder; nor indeed would she have undertaken the task at all, though her patient's injuries, frightful as they were, were yet only flesh wounds, had there been a physician in whom she could place confidence. Kropoff was the only one within an immense distance, and concerning him the truth was she had her own suspicions, although she dared not even hint them to her mother; and in her own mind she taxed less his ignorance than his wilfulness in leaving, or helping, a wounded Russian to die. It may be remarked that her suspicions were justified by his own subsequent departure from the world, which took place by artificial means, in consequence of his having, by poison, forwarded that of six Russians whom he was commissioned to cure. Ephene's assiduity was unremitting. All through the rigour of a Polish winter, though her cheek was pale, and her eye dim, she continued to "No, mother, no," exclaimed the watch and tend the stranger in whom time and circumstance, but either subsides and tempers down into a calm feeling of mingled esteem, gratitude, and habit, in happy marriages; yields to indifference or absolute aversion in others of less felicitous destiny; or, if not eventuating in marriage, gives place, in time, to another emotion-that of friendship—which, however warm and kindly, is not less distinct from love, than it is from pity, admiration, joy, or any other sentiment of which the human soul is capable. The assertion is not true; although it is not denied that evidences of its untruth are sufficiently rare to give much countenance and show of right to its maintainers. One little history has fallen within my own knowledge, which exhibits a beautiful illustration of love-man's love-that faded not and faltered not, through a life of trial such as might well have excused its change, if it had changed. I will relate it, with as close adherence to the strictest line of actual occurrence as my memory enables me to give; for several years have elapsed since I became acquainted with the parties and the events that made up the story of their life; and it may be that circumstances of minor importance in the tale have passed from my recollection, although its principal features are not to be forgotten. she was so deeply interested. She undiminished, through the changes of soon began to do this for her own gratification as well as his benefit, for in listening to the deep tones of his melodious and heart-searching voice, she found a thrilling delight which nothing else afforded her. Thus oftentimes, when all in the castle was still, and her helpmate Elizabeth luxuriously slumbering at her post, while the bitter night wind howled through the battlements, and the storm beat against the casement, the Russian would recount to his gentle nurse the adventures and hardships, the sufferings and escapes, he had gone through, with which he mixed up a great deal of intelligent information respecting Russia, and a few flowers of romance, which she loved still better. His name was Eugene Iriarte; he was a Hungarian by birth, but had been brought up in the Russian camp, in which he had met with many curious adventures. The occurrence which made him a solitary fugitive in the road to Icastle, was a skirmish, which the Russians had gained, but with great loss: he and others pursued the enemy off the field to a great distance, when he became so weak by his wounds, that he could go no farther; whereupon his companions, continuing the chase, left him. Subsequently he encountered a party of Poles, and was then compelled to ride for his life, which he would not have done successfully but for an extraordinarily swift charger. Thus, ignorant whither he was going, he got into the by-road, where the poor animal was obliged to slacken its pace, and where it presently died. "And the same fate would have been his master's," said Eugene, "but for the generosity of those from whom he might have expected far different treatment." (To be concluded in our next.) AFFECTION STRONG AS DEATH. Ir has been said that the love of man "is of man's life a thing apart" -that it never exists pure, fervent, About forty years ago a marriage engagement subsisted between a gentleman, for whose real name I will substitute that of Lewis, and a young lady of CMr. Lewis held an office under the government, which yielded him an income of some four or five hundred pounds; his betrothed was the daughter of a respectable tradesman, whose business enabled him to support his family in comfort, but had not given him the means to make any other than a very slender provision for his children after his decease. His family consisted of a wife and two daughters, the elder of whom, then about nineteen, was the betrothed of Mr. Lewis. They had known each other almost from infancy, and the attachment subsisting between them had grown up with themselves-gradually assuming its form and quality, as it were, in con tinuation and development of the childish preference they had manifested for each other, long before they knew that it was a peculiar feeling. The day for their marriage was appointed-was near at hand. The banns had been published and the dresses made; and another week would have merged the name of Caroline R. in that of Mrs. Lewis, when the misfortune fell upon her which condemned her to a life, not of single blessedness, but of single pain and helplessness and sorrow-but which also gave room and opportunity for an exhibition of true-hearted love, generosity, and nobleness of spirit, such as is not often made for the exaltation of man's nature. A few days previous to that appointed for the wedding, it was arranged among several ladies and gentlemen of the place, that an afternoon should be devoted to the enjoyment of a pic-nic; that is to say, a dinner, or rather collation, in the open air, at some pleasant spot remote enough to ensure the gaining of an appetite by the walk. Mr. Lewis and Miss R. were of the party, and enjoyed it probably, with a keener relish than any of their companions. But their pleasure was soon to cost them very dear. In the evening, after their return home, Miss R. complained of feeling chilly and uncomfortable-went early to rest-and in the morning was found by her betrothed, when he called to inquire of her health, suffering terribly from a most violent attack of inflammatory rheumatism. This was attributed to dampness in the grass upon which she had been seated the day before, and probably with truth, although I do not remember hearing that any others of the party were affected in like manner. It is not necessary that I should describe the progress of her ailment; it is enough to say, that after months of dreadful suffering, and a whole round of medical experiments by eminent physicians, she remained a helpless, hopeless cripple; her limbs paralysed and contracted, and her frame so enfeebled that she was not able to sit upright, and was assured that never again might she hope to rise from her bed by her own powers. Moreover, the violent, even desperate, remedies to which resort had been made, had dreadfully impaired her constitution, and continual illness was added to the misfortune of decrepitude. She became subject to a species of catalepsy, falling into frequent trances, as they were called by her friends, in which she lost all consciousness, and, but for a faint pulsation, might have passed for one in whom life was extinct for ever. These trances, or cataleptic returns, were observed to be almost inevitably occasioned by the least excitement or surprise; even the sudden and loud closing of a door was often sufficient to bring them on. Thus, at the age of about twenty, this young lady found herself cast down, in a moment, it might be said, from the enjoyment of health, affection, hope, and the brightest prospects of futurity, and left a bed-ridden, helpless, and suffering wreck, to whom the kindest wish that could be given was a speedy rescue from her trials. The conduct of Mr. Lewis through this prostration of his own hopes and those of his betrothed, was in the highest degree tender and noble. As much of his time as he could spare from his official duties was employed in attendance upon the unfortunate being whom he had chosen for his wife-in the performance of every kindness that affection could suggest to alleviate her sufferings or sustain her fortitude-and when the melancholy truth was at length declared, that her case was beyond the reach of medicine, he vowed to himself that henceforward his life should be dedicated to her service: and well did he perform that vow. So long as her father lived, Mr. Lewis could only bestow upon her the attentions of a lover; but in the course of a few years her sister and herself were left parentless and poor; for, as I have said, Mr. R. had but little beyond the profits of his business, and even that little was almost consumed in the expenses of his daughter's protracted illness. Then it was that the generous devotion of Mr. Lewis had full scope. The dying anxieties of Mr. R. were relieved by a voluntary and solemn pledge from him who should have been his daughter's husband, that he would be to the friendless girls a friend and a brother so long as he should live; and the pledge was redeemed. By the will of Mr. R., his whole property was entrusted to Mr. Lewis for the use of the daughters; and, by prudent management, it was hoped that an income might be derived from it sufficient to keep them above actual want, although it could afford none of the luxuries, and scarcely even the conveniences of life. Mr. Lewis resolved that it should be augmented by the addition of his entire salary, reserving only what should be indispensable for his own maintenance, in the simplest style consistent with the requisitions of his office. Immediately upon the death of Mr. R., he provided a small but neat and convenient residencefor his wards, in a village distant three or four miles from C, where they dwelt for ten years in great comfort, as regarded the external appliances of enjoyment, although there was no improvement in the health of the unfortunate lady. On the contrary, her weakness gradually increased, and with it her susceptibility to the cataleptic attacks, which formed so remarkable a feature in her affliction. It was only by the most rigid quiet and freedom from even the slightest causes of nervous excitement, that their recurrence was prevented. During these ten years Mr. Lewis never suffered himself to be prevented by anything but illness from visiting them every evening, at the close of his duties; he appropriated to their support nearly twothirds of his salary, and practised in his own living the most rigid economy, appropriating all that he could save from the remaining third, to the expense of providing the only luxury it was in Miss R.'s power to enjoy the luxury of books. He was more than once offered a promotion, as by length of service he became entitled to the more lucrative employments of the department in which he was engaged; and when the promotion did not require a change of residence, it was, of course, gladly accepted; but it was declared by physicians whom he con sulted, that Miss R. could not sustain the excitement of another removal, and to every offer that involved his own departure from C, however tempting it might be in its increase of salary, he returned a firm denialmuch to the surprise of his official superiors, as may well be imagined. Opportunities of a different nature were not wanting, but they were equally disregarded. Mr. Lewis was a handsome man, and his devotion to the afflicted Miss R. did not fail to invest him to the ladies of C. with a strong interest; they reasoned, perhaps, that so true a lover could not but make an admirable husband, and it was intimated to him, more than once, by friends who pretended to much discernment, that an offer of his hand would not be rejected by damsels, who would bring to him not beauty and love alone, but handsome fortunes also. If such were the case and it is by no means improbable— the affection and fidelity of Mr. Lewis are presented in a yet stronger light, for desirable as fortune was to him, and fitted as he was to appreciate the joys of a married life, he never swerved for one moment from the path that he had marked out; he had taken upon himself the office of comforter to one most cruelly afflicted, and nothing should turn him from its fulfilment. Thus ten years passed away, when circumstances of which I do not recollect the nature, compelled the removal of the sisters from the cottage in which they had resided since their father's death. This removal was a fearful undertaking of difficulty and danger to the bedridden Miss R. Her limbs had become totally contracted, and with every year she became more and more liable to those dreadful attacks of syncope; and it was apprehended that even the gentlest means of transportation would be fatal to one in whom life hung suspended on so mere a thread, and who had not, for ten years, experienced any other movement than that required for the daily arrangement of her couch. Nevertheless, it was necessary and must be undertaken. Here again the zeal and affection of Mr. Lewis were called into success |