should every thing have become. That which you had loved I should have loved; and talents, fortune, all the gifts which I possess, and which are now to be employed in deeds of darkness, would in your hand have proved a blessing. Oh, to stand so near to such a goal, and to see it vanish!--To hold in one's hand the best lot of life and see it snatched away!-to be compelled to renounce a Lennartson to become the despised and despairing prey of a St. Orme! Oh why can I not die?" And in another outbreak of the most violent anguish, Flora threw herself down on the floor.

At that moment a light broke through the clouds into her room, and I fancied as if in its reflection a white dove was descending, and extending her wings over Flora.

It was Selma, who with the lightness of a bird flew into the room, couched on her knee beside Flora, and throwing back a white shawl which covered her head and sholders, exclaimed as she stretched out her hands,

"No; live, live, my Flora!-Live, and be happy! Here are your letters!"

A letter case of crimson silk shone brightly in her hand.

With an exclamation of joy,—" My letters! My letters!" Flora threw herself upon them.

"You are free, Flora!" continued Selma, with a voice apparently stifled by emotion. "St. Orme resigns you he will soon depart-you are free-be happy, be happy!"

"Selma!-what do you say?" exclaimed Flora. "Are you out of your wits, or am I?-Who ?-What? -How have you-"

With incoherent, eager inquiries, Flora and I attacked Selma; but she did not answer us-she heard us no more. Deprived of consciousness she lay prostrate on the floor, with her hair and apparel saturated with rain.

We carried her to bed, but vain were our attempts to restore her to consciousness. Quickly I despatched a messenger to my stepmother, and a second to Dr. L*, the family physician. Soon they both stood beside Selma's bed, my stepmother with a face as pale and almost as death-like as that of her beloved daughter.

After Selma had been bled she returned to life, but not to consciousness. Her mind wandered in an awful

manner.

Her bright friendly eyes were now wild and staring, and seemed anxious to avoid some dreaded sight.

She drew me to her and said, in a half whisper: "Do you know, it was frightful! I met him just as he was coming out of hell; and he looked at me with such terrible flaming eyes—"

"Who looked at you so, my sweet Selma?" inquired I.

"He-St. Michael-you know whom I mean. I wanted to flee but he held me back, and marked my forehead with his finger because I had been, among the wicked; and since then I feel such burning pain there, and I know that I cannot show myself any more before men. They all behold me with such terrified looks, and you too-I must look frightful!"

"You are ill, Selma, and therefore everybody looks at you so anxiously; but you yourself look like a good angel, as indeed you are."

"Yes, you say so, but he knows better, he who saw me there he would have killed me, he would have pierced my heart with his spear, if I had not fled from him. Yes, I fled before him, but yet I felt that all was over with me; that I was branded; and the whole world flies at sight of me, because I fled

"You must not talk so much at present, Selma; you must try to sleep."

"Sleep! No, I shall never sleep again. I have too much burning pain here," said she, pointing with her hand to her forehead, "And I see the look everywhere; it will keep me awake till the day of judgment. No, I dare not sleep any more."

rent cause.

While I was listening to these terrible delirious ravings, and inquiring ineffectually into their cause, Dr. L explained them to my stepmother by the terms "inflammation of the brain," but of a very mild character. He said that this disease was at present very prevalent, and assumed in most cases a very malignant form, frequently without any appaWe immediately attended to all the directions he prescribed, and which are usual in the treatment of such patients. Selma's head was pillowed high, the chamber kept dark and quiet, and cold applications laid upon her burning head. While engaged in attending to these matters, I was called out of the In the antechamber I found Lennartson, but in such a state as I had never beheld him before—so pale and agitated.

room.

"Where, where is Selma?" inquired he hastily. "What had she to do at St. Orme's? Who sent her there?"

"You surely cannot suspect Selma of any thing bad or incorrect?" asked 1.

"Her? Impossible! but I suspect others; I fear that some may take advantage of her self-sacrificing, affectionate heart."

"How and when did you meet Selma?"

"A little while since I went in quest of St. Orme. A female figure wrapped in a white shawl was just coming out of his room. Several rude young men were endeavouring to detain her on the stairs; I set her at liberty, and observing that she trembled, I took her hand to escort her down the stairs; and then, to my surprise, I recognised-Mam'selle Selma. She tore herself from me and fled away so swiftly that I could not say a word to her; to run after her I did not likebut now I must know wherefore she was there."

In as few words as possible I related to the Baron all that had occurred.

We now perceived that Selma, urged by an impulse of the moment, in order to save Flora and to prevent a meeting between St. Orme and Lennartson, had hastened to the residence of the former, supported solely by her enthusiasm and self-sacrificing affection. But by what talisman she had been enabled to snatch from St. Orme the treasure he had so long guarded with the watchfulness of a dragon was incomprehensible to us.

Lennartson became deeply dejected when informed of Selma's present condition. It being already late in the evening, he was obliged to go.

"I shall be here early to-morrow," said he. He made inquiries also about Flora, but seemed scarcely to hear my reply.

Oh, I see more and more plainly which is the object of his heart's affections.

April 20th, in the Morning.

The night now is past, but what a night! Selma has been in a state of constant delirium. The same phantasies recur again and again, only under different forms; and now I well comprehend the cause from which they proceed. Oh, my poor young sister! In the morning she asked for some myrtles and flowers, and commenced twining a garland, which she calls "Flora's bridal wreath;" she zealously perseveres in her labour but her hands ever and anon sink down exhausted and the work does not progress. She also sings snatches of her joyous songs, but never finishes one. My poor stepmother goes about with mute anxiety in her eyes, and seems to ask: "How is it now? What course

will it take?"

Flora, after having sate up with me all night in watchful attendance on Selma, has driven to her sister's this morning. I have just written to Brenner, and shall not leave my Selma's room again where I write this.

In the Evening.

The same as ever! Selma continues to weave her chaplet, but complains that it never will be ready. Sometimes she sings. Dr. L✶✶ looks troubled, and talks of having her hair cut off;-her beautiful hair.

Lennartson has been here several times to inquire after her. This evening they spread straw in front of the house, to deaden the noise of carriages; this is owing to Lennartson's care, I understand.

Brenner also has called, but I did not see him.