ADVENTURES OF A WELSH MEDICAL STUDENT. No. III. (Continued from page 334.) THE light of morn had appeared, and the radiance of full day was shining over one of the grandest views in nature, namely, the mountain vista as seen from Beaumaris Bay. I was reposing on the brow of a small hill, and gazing intently on the sublime and varied scene before me; the light breeze was whistling among the foliage, and the distant bleating of the lamb was feebly heard. No human being was visible over the whole survey; the paradise at that moment seemed made for me alone; and that beneficent Being whose breath is life, had stamped upon the appearance of that scene an evidence of its peace. The turrets of an abbey-looking building, obscured from the full view by the creeping shrubs, which apparently had held a sway over it for many ages, and now seemed to be its only support, lay upon the left of the view my sketch-book was in my hand, : and I pencilled hastily an outline of the scene. Suddenly the breeze ceased even its former whispering, and the clouds were dark and lowering, and the perfect stillness of nature gave me warning of the approach of tempest. I descended the hill towards the ruin, and happily reached it in time to shelter myself from its drenching effects. One end of the abbey, consisting of three or four small rooms, had been wrested from the ruthless grasp of decay, and converted into a somewhat habitable dwelling. I entered beneath an ivy-mantled archway, ornamented with the mouldering remains of heraldic grandeur; and, after knocking loudly a few times at a large oaken nailed door (such an one as commonly, even at this day, adorns the entrance to the village church), it was slowly opened by an aged man, whose venerable brow bore a few white hairs scattered amid the wrinkles of decrepid age; his face was deeply lined, thin, and compressed, but the mouth and eye still retained an expression of intelligence, of manly and honest independence. The old man regarded me attentively for a few moments, then wiped from his face a tear which had almost unconsciously been shed, and beckoned me to follow him. "You are a stranger," said he, as we were traversing a low narrow passage, which led to a small kitchen, “but as such you are welcome to the shelter of my humble roof; the storm is awfully raging, but it will soon subside." My host beckoned me to take one of the rough seats by the side of a large fire of mawn (turf); and placing a huge wooden bowl of milk, and an oaten cake, upon the table before me, he requested me to partake with him of the morning's refreshment. I had often pictured to my mind, when immured within the walls of a London hospital, where disease and death were around me, and the low piteous moaning of some unhappy victim to the vices and miseries of a town-life sunk deeply to my heart, with what pleasure I would exchange that scene, for the quiet retirement of humble poverty apart from ambition, to live as Byron expresses it "With some fair spirit for my minister ;"' no more to hear of those with whose career my recollection had been tainted, no more to feel myself a portion of my former existence; but to live anew, and to feel anew, to destroy every trace of the past, and to endeavour to embody a more glorious futurity; and yet to what purpose? perhaps, to recommence a more flagrant course; for the despotism of iniquity appears to attach itself to whatever is pleasurable, as well as to that which is painfully otherwise the emblems of departed magnificence; the contrast of past grandeur with present simplicity; the humble fare within the walls perhaps of a palace; the noble lofty bearing of man, with the spirit of the lion evidently broken; worn down like the granite rock by the billows of the all powerful ocean, or hollowed by the continued dripping of small pearly drops of earth's pure distillation. What reflections do these natural and too frequent objects of our observation create within our minds?-curiosity and deep sympathy; more especially the latter of these qualities, because we can never refuse the balm when our own wounded feelings need so often the soothing influence of confidence and friendship. In the following little history, therefore, I register one of the many causes of the unhappiness of mankind, and contented shall I be, if the pen delineates that moral which the crayon of the mind sketches as one of the baneful effects of the present artificial state of society. THE LOVE-STRICKEN. (Founded on Fact.) In the gardens adjoining a very extensive mansion, where romance might have depicted in all its wildness the horrors of living apart from any of the family of man,-by the light of the silvery moon which had just emerged from a cloud, and which had imparted to the waters of a small lake that mercurial lightness the most brilliant influence" of heaven's pale planet," two figures were seen slowly walking and earnestly conversing in that easy and endear * We are compelled, as in our last number of the Adventures, to remain silent regarding names and localities. ing manner that marks a perfect accordance of mind and disposition, even when playful perverseness may induce either to take the most opposite view to the opinion and wish of the other. The one was a female whose age could scarcely have attained sixteen years, of small fair features of the most expressive form, and light blue eyes which sparkled with so much brightness as almost to shame the orb of love herself: altogether, the appearance of the young lady pourtrayed that spirit of heroism and self-determination that parents need not congratulate themselves on the fairer sex of their offspring possessing. The other individual, was (as my readers have no doubt anticipated,) a young and elegant man of three and twenty years of age, of dark and intelligent, but of an extremely mild, expression of countenance; he was somewhat tall and thin, and from his demeanour and dress might be regarded as a clergyman somewhat inferior to his fair companion in his aristocratic bearing, but, nevertheless, possessing every external indication of gentlemanly refinements. They walked on, in a playfully careless mood, to an angle of the path where a small winding of the way diverging, led to a retired grotto, to which they bent their steps. The shadows of the different trees which crossed the walk gave a gloomy variety to the scene, reminding one much of the track of human life, generally all brilliancy here, while another step produces sombreness and misery, the future lying, like the dark grotto before, in uncertain obscurity. Seated in a deep recess of the retreat I have mentioned, was one whose eye rested with malignant scrutiny on the every action of the ill-fated lovers; a dark cloak concealed the person and the lower features of the demon's face; and, as the intended victim approached, a hand, having within its grasp a pistol, gently disengaged itself from the folds of the garment. There was a tremulous agitation on the part of the unfortunate girl, apparently in anticipation of some unseen evil; she twice. started, and seemingly wished to return; while her companion and lover chid her fears, and supported her with his arm: they were within a few paces of the grotto; the moon's soft light was hid behind a dense cloud; the report of a pistol was heard, and the flash of light from the recess followed by a deep sigh, as if nature had made her one and only effort, and could feel no more the rustling among the underwood, and a white garment borne rapidly along, was the only evidence that an untimely fate had, perhaps, separated for ever, the unfortunate victims of a parent's cruel caprice. About thirty years since, an incident occurred in North Wales, the features of which much corresponded with the particulars of this story, the intended victim in that instance recovered: but, to preserve a feeling of romance, nothing less than a tragical issue will at present suit our sanguinary intent. In a large and lofty chamber, within the walls of the mansion already described, and upon a rich embroidered pallet, lay that form of youth and beauty, whose attractions had been the theme and admiration of every one, now wasting, her frame gradually sinking under the effect of sudden disappointment and despair; the bloom upon her fair cheek had yielded to the lily's pale tint; the eye, so soft and bright, had sunk and become dim; the tear was unseen, for its font had become dry; the heart throbbed convulsively; the finger pointed to a page, and it was there continually, as if the soul was absorbed with one object, and the body sinking under one immoveable pang. The room was hung round with paintings, heart-stirring histories of deeds of valour: here was the lover serenading his mistress, and Cupid laughingly pointing his arrow toward the heart of a maiden; there was a Hebe, rich in colouring, vivid as from the pencil of poor Wilson of Penegoes, looking as though life were but a jest; but they were all horrible to contemplate, for still there was the vision with her finger pointing to the page; there were the green hills seen through the old latticed window; there was the vine, fresh and vigorous, with its purple-blooded fruit hanging in rich clusters before it, telling one of life, that it is joyous, and the pale green that there is youth and merriment; but turn the head, and oh, the marble, yet living, statue tells a tale which all the beauty of nature and all the painting of art cannot obliterate from the mind. The door of the chamber gently opened, and the tall figure of a man, who had numbered about sixty years, glided quietly to the side of the bed; there was a coolness in his demeannor, more perhaps the effect of habit than of art; a peculiar but expressive smile betokened a concealed thought, the eye was small but piercing, the forehead lofty, and the whole bearing of this individual was noble, but possessing that peculiar trait, which after having ascribed to it a number of qualities, each, perhaps, opposite to the former, we find at last that we have made but an unsatisfactory estimate of a character in which there is so much of doubt and mystery. Matilda, are you sleeping?" said he, in a voice so low but distinct that the words seemed to glide through the whole apartment. "Sleep, sir," she replied, "will hereafter be as much a stranger to me as happiness can, or even life will be; do you expect sensation from the reeking victim of your sport, or water from the well when its spring hath for ever ceased its supply? I have lived dutifully subservient to your will, but I will die rather than be sacrificed to the caprice of your pride." "I am your father, child," said he, " and have a right to restrain your untoward inclination; the blood of your body shall never mingle with that of a plebeian." "Tell me not, sir, of plebeian blood," indignantly she said, "true nobility consists in the honour and integrity of mind; to it I would ally myself, but never to the false cringing knave of fashion, whose only title should 66 be that which is the reward of honest men. I have a pledge within the pages of this book, that my actions have been pure, and by that test, and not by the world's paltry estimate of worth, shall they be justified. The page of holy writ is the only solace left to the stricken in spirit, and under all circumstances and at all times I have found its consolatory influence diffusing peace, when wretchedness alone was the companion of my sinking spirit. I am now dying in the blush of early youth, ere the sun of pleasure hath beamed upon the flower of my days, and for why? can you feel any justification in the destruction of your only child, even though the laws of a corrupt world have forbidden affection to exist where nature hath wildly implanted it. If you have aught of pity yet for me, tell me, I conjure you, of him from whom you have torn me-I fear to ask the question: surely, father, you would not be his murderer! you would not break the heart you have reared with so much tenderness! oh, heaven, spare me the pang of feeling that I am sacrificed at the shrine of that which is falsely named family honour! You, my father, dared not have done this deed, you love me too affectionately to blight my early hope, for what am I but the frail child of nature, ardent and passionate, but bound by a spell under which I defy human agency." She smiled, and sunk upon the pillow; the father leant over and listened with an anxious ear to the feeble breathing of the girl, and having seemed to satisfy himself that it was fatigue alone that had induced slumber, he moved cautiously from the room, and, crossing a wide stone staircase, proceeded along a narrow passage to a small door which appeared to communicate with a less-frequented part of the mansion, he opened it hastily, and in the corner of a narrow and low room, extended upon a couch, lay the individual who has formed a main feature in the tragical scene at the grotto. It would be difficult to describe the mingled ferociousness of expression with that intense curiosity which distorted the features of him whom we shall henceforth call the baronet, as he gazed upon the senseless body before him; a stream of clotted blood had flowed from a side-wound, from the couch to the paved floor below; a low groan of apparently mental agony escaped from the lips of the sufferer; a small pocket volume lay open before him; his cheek had become contracted, and his lip firmly closed; death was nigh, the deadly hue was engraven on his brow; he attempted to rise, but was unable, looked earnestly and expressively at a small billet which he drew from his bosom and handed to the baronet, who appeared to gasp with breathless curiosity as he proceeded in reading it; at length, as if some charm had been broken, he threw himself at the feet of the sufferer, and imploringly said, "Awake, oh awake, my beloved nephew! let not the stream of life ebb ere I can obtain your forgiveness, or relate to you how unhappily the very means which I have employed to place into your pos |