on from bad to worse, till she had been detected in learning half a dozen words of English, and, moreover, in giving Mac lessons in French, over a certain little fortune-telling flower, called a Marguerite. This lesson always began with je t'aime and ended with à la folie, and, as Mac stooped his spectacles over the pretty fingers of his mistress to regard the magic leaves, it is no wonder if the proximity acted somewhat upon his nerves. He found himself paying compliments in spite of his teeth, and of his French too; talked of her hands being extremelyment blanches, till the young sorceress was afraid of having them snapped off, and of lips astonishinglyment rouges, till she began to dread his playing the vampire. Things went on for some time delightfully. Rosalie became the companion of Mac's peregrinations, and he began to talk of being dans amour. Upon this subject, however, he was assured that he was not yet qualified to talk, as it required excellent French to enter into all the elegant minutia which made it interesting. Strange, incomprehensible, exquisite little Rosalie! No sooner had Mac left her than her face waned from its mirth into an expression of the most touching melancholy. She turned from mountain to lake till her swimming eyes bore witness to the tremors of her heart, and her endeavours to sing herself happy were sad as the last melody of the expiring swan "De colline en colline en vain portant ma vue Soon afterwards she was found weeping bitterly in the summer-house by madame. Why did pretty Rosalie weep? She wept, in sooth, with laughing at Meester Mac. Mac became more and more enamoured, and made up his mind to bring her to the point of yes or no on the first opportunity: Rosalie at the same time being determined not to satisfy his curiosity. She was all that heart could desire in the presence of madame and the rest of the house; but the usual hours for walking in the woods were precisely those on which it was necessary to attend to something else. For some time he was contented with airing himself before her vine-clad lattice, to see her lap-dog taught to beg, or her pet bird to fly to feast upon the beautiful turn of her arms, the animation of her countenance, the endearing expressions which she bestowed upon every thing in nature, excepting only himself. In short, the perpetual variety of her character would have filled a heart as big as Mont-Blanc. She was not one beauty she was a whole paradise of beauties. What then must have been the effect produced upon poor Mac, who was only a beginner in the art of love? He was penetrated with darts from head to foot, and felt that he could have roared like a bull in the arena. This could not last; and, in fine, when he had gazed himself blind upon the picture of angelic innocence, and wished in vain that he was either the little bird or the cat, that he might be revenged upon it, he called up to the window "Mademoiselle Rossely, voulez vous marry me ?" “Oh mon Dieu, Meester Mac, je suis déjà mariée! Voilà, mon petit mari!" Tossing up her nondescript. "Ah, comme il baille!" "Mais j'ai besoin parler seriously.” Mon "Tout à l'heure, Monsieur Mac. mari a besoin de son diner. Allez vous en ! allez!" With that she closed the casement, and Mac incontinently walked off, to make his proposals to madame herself. Such an event could not fail to cause a remarkable sensation in the house. The elders were enchanted, Rosalie did not know whether to laugh or to cry, and the young painter, who was made a confidant by way of punishment for having presumed to be unhappy, became as pale as death. Carl had, indeed, for some days, been growing more and more depressed. People in his situation are peculiarly sensitive, and unable to disguise their feelings. Every passing word, therefore, which Rosalie chanced to address to him, seemed to carry with it a degree of cold cruelty, to which he could not help replying with a look or tone resembling reproach. The young lady, on the day of Mac's proposals, chose to fire at this species of impertinence, complained to her cher Ecossois, and declared her resolution of taking the painter to task the moment she could find an occasion. The occasion was found the same evening. Carl took his usual hour, when the hills of the Black Forest were blazing with the red sunset, to steal off with his colour-box, and catch the varied hues from a romantic old wood hard by. He sat himself down upon a moss-grown stump, and endeavoured to forget in his art the smart of hopeless love of insulted poverty. Alas, his hand was unsteady, his mind was astray, and his pencil had lost its brilliancy. He flung it in despair amongst the flowers at his feet; his delight in it was gone; his anticipations of fame were destroyed; Rosalie had signed his death-warrant. He had conducted himself towards her with unobtrusive humility - with silent devotion; and she had treated him with coldness-with contempt-with tyranny. She was about to sell herself to a creature which was neither man nor beast, before his very face, and without one compunctious look. He would |