The soothing and consoling sigh, The silent tear, delightful omen! The sympathetic, soft reply, Are thine to give, oh lovely woman. Say, then, Maria, shall the wreathe Which friendship wove, and you approv❜d, Be sullied by Misfortune's breath, And lose the fragrance both have Oh, no! it shall not-in thine eye NEW-YORK: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY ALEXANDER C. MORTON, No. 3 Dutch-Street. LOVE AND DUTY.. [CONTINUED.] THERE was, therefore, now no longer any doubt of the innocence of the marquis d'Angladé and his amiable wife; and it was decreed that Constantia should obtain letters of revision of the sentence against her parents, the execution of which Parliament reserved to itself. While the real criminals were, on the clearest conviction of their guilt, condemned to death, and the innocence of the d'Anglades publicly declared and established, Constan tia, with a beating heart, was awaiting the decision in a room, adjoining the court. At length she heard a quick and well known step, and in another moment Eugene entered, to announce the condemnation of the prisoners, and the entire exculpation of her parents. But he was too agitat ed to speak himself, and the President, who had followed him, was obliged to speak for him. [NO. 23. Constantia instantly fell on her knees, and, raising her fine arms to heaven, exclaimed, "My God, I thank thee!" Then rushing into an inner apartment, she shut herself from the sight of every one, in order to vent the agony which she experienced, even in the midst of her joy, when she reflected that her injured parents were not alive to seo their honor vindicated, and their innocence proved. Deep and bitter must that regret have been but religious hope, and habitual resignation to the divine will, succeeded at length in calming her feelings; and "While her eye to heaven she raised, "Its silent waters sunk away." She then returned to her expecting friends with calmness and even with smiles. The baron de Coulanges, the father of Eugene's coadjutor in the cause, had, in the mean while, been informing the President that Constantia, in her endeavors to obtain justice to her parents' memory, had expended the whole of the property so lately left her, and was reduced to a state of indigence even more abject than she had known before. He was proceeding to point out the ne cessity there was that she should immediately sue the count, in or der to obtain restitution of the sums which her father had been unjustly condemned to pay him, when Constantia re-entered the room, and with grateful earnestness thanked Coulanges and the President for their kind exertions in her favor. She then turned to Eugene in or der to thank him :-"But what shall I say to you?" she began, but her voice failed her; the hand which she stretched out to grasp his fell nerveless by her side, and, unable to utter a word more, she burst into tears, and again quitted the room. When she returned, the baron de Coulanges asked her if it was true that she had left herself entirely destitute. "It is true," she replied; " but I welcome poverty and industry! I could endure them with cheerfulness even while I knew that I was apparently the child of disgrace; but now that I have the consciousness not only of my own but my parents' admitted innocence, to support me, believe me, that riches and pover ty are to me equally matters of indifference. "Young lady," said the Presi dent, "your mind, at snch a moment as this is, must be on stilts, and you cannot tell yet what its natural and true height is; therefore I must venture to tell you, that when you demand of parliameut a public justification of the memory of your parents, it is your duty to bring an action for costs of suit and damages against count de Montgommery." "Sir replied Constantia, "isit! not true that the count, from his extravagance, is greatly involved in pecuniary difficulties?" "It is." "Then let the count de Mont. gommery know," she answered, "that I will not prosecute him. Tell him that the man whom he persecuted, and whose sufferings he gazed on with pleasure, taught his child to return good for evil, and to practice as well as profess christianity." "You are an excellent creature," replied the baron, wiping a tear rrom his eye, "only rather too heroic and romantic; and that will go off in time, and then we will talk further on this sub. ject. In the meanwhile, as we are now alone, at least as none are present but our friend the President and his amiable son (for Cou. langes is gone off on purpose), let me prefer a suit to you, in the success of which my heart is deeply interested. Mademoiselle Anglade, 1 will not offend your modesty so far as to expatiate on your admirable conduct, in all the trials and situations in which you have been placed; but I must beg leave to say, that the proudest man in France might glory to call you daughter-in-law--assured that the exemplary child must make an exemplary wife." Here he paused, while Eugene, anticipating what was to follow, hid his face with his hand, Constantia trembled, and the President cast his eyes on the ground. Now, then," continued the animated old man," let me inform you, that my son has just declar ed to me that he entertains for you the most ardent attachment; and let me say, for myself, that if you will favor him by accepting his hand, and admitting his addresses, you will be at once the pride and pleasure of his life and of mine." Constantia listened to this honorable testimony to her virtues with modest pride, and was certainly flattered by the offer of the hand of a young man of Coulanges' rank and talents; an ofer too, made to her by his father, a man respected even more for his virtues than his birth. But her heart rejected the offer; and as she timidly cast her eyes on Eugene, and saw him agitated almost to fainting, she thought how easy the task of refusal was; but she felt it to be a hard task to wound the feelings of an amiable young man who loved her and of an affectionate parent eager for the welfare of his child :-but then she knew that Eugene tremblingly awaited her answer; and gratefully, delicately, but firmly, she declined the baron's proposal, and declared her fixed resolution ne. ver to be the wife of any man. As she ended, again her eyes wandered towards Eugene, and her heart throbbed with pleasure as she beheld the instantaneous change from woe to joy which his countenance exhibited. "Is this your final resolve?" said the baron. "It is." "Alas, my poor son!" said the baron; "but you will allow him to see you, and endeavor to mollify your flinty heart! or is it already too tender?" When, seeing Constantia turn alarmingly pale, he paused, and added"But this is an inquiry I have no right to make so, Heaven bless you, young lady! and if it be not my son's lot to make you happy, may it be that of some and to the daughter of that d'An. other man! So saying he depart-glade whom many of them had ed; and Constantia, eager to be alone, ordered a fiacre, rather than accept the President's offered carriage, and was conducted to it by him in a sort of perturbed silence on his side, and a thought. ful one on hers. At length she was alone, and could breathe out, before the image of her Saviour, the devout and grateful oerings of her pious heart. That duty performed, she revolved over in her mind all the late interesting events which had occurred to her, and wondered that the entire success which had crowned her wishes had not made her completely happy. condemned with eagerness, and calumniated without any remorse, they were anxious to shew that countenance, that interest, and that protection, which, had it been shewn to her unfortunate and injured parents, might have led to a less hasty examination of the evidence of their guilt, and have induced the ministers of the law to delay their cru el sentence, till the representations of the innocent had been heard, and pro nounced to be founded on jus tice. But their visits were paid in vain-Constantia was denied to every one; and when she saw amongst the list the names of ma ny who had been the associates of her poor father in his prosper She used to think, that could she but live to see her parents' fame entirely cleared, she should, after having conquered certain painfulity, but had forsaken him in ad 66 re versity, and seemed eager to fix on him the charge for which he so unjustly suffered, she mournfulNo-never shall regrets, be the happiest of the the child of d'Anglade associate with such as these !-My father once courted, thought himself honored by their notice; but he has left me the sad legacy of his experience, and I will confine my. self to the safe and preferable so ciety of my equals. I will court no society but that of Madeleine --of that kind being who loved me, and did my parents justice |