DEVOTED TO POLITE LITERATURE, SUCH AS MORAL AND SENTIMENTAL TALES, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELING SKETCHES, POETRY, AMUSING MISCELLANY, ANECDOTES,

VOL. X.-1. NEW SERIES.]

ORIGINAL TALES.

For the Rural Repository. The Effects of Irresolution. How diverse are the spirits of men! possessing the same elements of character, passion, affection and thought, the human family exhibits a moral and mental variety which nature does not surpass in all the wonderful diversity of her physical operations. To say nothing of the different degrees of intellectual elevation among men, may not one broad line separate the race into two distinct classes, the strong and the weak? Does not the record of history, government, society, and our own observation, concur in an affirmative answer to this question? And what is this strength, and what this weakness? The former cannot be perspicuity of mental vision, or etherial genius; the latter is not dulless of conception or flagging faculties; for, with the former, an ordinary mind is often-times united, and with the latter, a superior intellect is as often joined. But this strength is strength of purpose, looking steadily at its object and pushing perseveringly after it; resolution, that never pauses on its course, though Pleasure sing like a syren from the groves about its path, though Fancy seek to envelope its prospects in obscurity and sorrow, and paint other scenes with the hues of Paradise; but unquailing at opposition and never disheartened at disappointment, fords every river, scales every precipice, gives battle to every foe, until its end is accomplished and victory smiles upon its exertions. This, this is strength, not of collossal body, or arm, or muscle, but of moral power, that will command reputation, and wealth, and friends and influence, that will increase as the body wears out and is dilapidated, and disrobe the grave of its drapery of terror. It will be my business in the following tale to narrate an effect of the weakness to which I have alluded, of Irresolution. I shall not attempt to count its consequences, the high hopes it has quenched, the budding wreaths it has blasted, anticipations foiled, reverses bitter and unexpected, and frustrated plans, but, resting with the remark, that the

HUDSON, N. Y. SATURDAY, JUNE 8, 1833.
counterpart of my principal personage is no
stranger in this, or in any community, I will
narrate some circumstances, associated with
the history of an irresolute young man.

&c.

NO. 1.

esteemed an ample compensation for his compliance with their sentiments and requests.

Years fled away, and ere Julius ripened into manhood, he held an honorable station in the naval service of his country. It may well be supposed that with his personal attractions and faculties of pleasing, a female heart would not be irresistibly obstinate to his addresses. He saw and became acquainted with Elvira Davenport. She was accomplished, beautiful, wealthy, and an only daughter. There was a fascination in her glance, a sweetness in her voice, and an expressive color in her cheek that had subdued less susceptible hearts than that of our hero. No wonder then that as he glided with her through the exciting dance, or leaned breathlessly over her piano-forte, or listened to her captivating conversation, his bosom yielded to the potent enchantment of love. Nor did Elvira coldly return his passion, and but a short time elapsed, ere their troth was plighted, and the expiration of the war, in which the country was then engaged, fixed upon as the period for the consummation of their happiness.

Julius De Forrest was the only son of an officer, in the army, which achieved our national independence. In early youth, he exhibited indications of intellectual superiority, which the subsequent developement of his mind did not fail to realize. A vigorous and fertile fancy, with wit of a high polish, and ready conversational habits, made him a valuable acquisition to the social circle, and a source of pleasure to all who knew him. Wit and fancy, however, though they may gain friends, enliven a drawing room, and add interest to an essay or a speech, are not the safest leaders to happiness and success; and young De Forrest, as he became older, discovered that these brilliant qualities, unteinpered by judgment and unrestrained by prudence, are more likely to hurry an ardent and emulous youth into acts of indiscretion, and divert him from the path to eminence, than guide him to the summit of his honorable ambition. And probably the strength of this impression would Lovers and friends must part, and an order have been ultimately beneficial, if all its influ- came from the General Government, for the ence, had not been undermined by a secret departure of the ship, to which De Forrest and partly constitutional irresolution, that was attached. Many were the tears shed, having acquired the assistance of habit, was many were the protestations of eternal fidelity, already forging chains of iron for its captive. long and sweet was the embrace that preceded His complaisance to friends led him to a their separation. A distant voyage, and the perfect concurrence with all their opinions, animation of several successful encounters until he could not arouse sufficient courage to with the enemy's vessels, did not diminish the differ from any of his companions, but blindly fullness of De Forrest's affection. To him, coincided with their sentinients, however at Elvira was the model of moral, mental and variance with his own belief. Thus, his judg-personal perfection, and all other women posment became crippled, and subservience to the sessed, in his estimation, no charms of heart, will, and convenience of others, controlled or mind, or feature. So that when the ship his conduct. And though in retirement, anchored in the port of he abstained from a consciousness of the fact would often tinge the gaiety of his fellow officers, and when he his cheek with the hue of shame, and throw a visited the shore, rambled abstractedly through momentary flash of determination into his the suburbs of the town and the adjoining mind, yet the return of society lulled him upon fields, thinking of nothing and of no one, but the sluggish stream of irresolution, and he would of her to whom his heart had been given. It float on its tide, carelessly as before. The was on one of these occasions that a circumtribute of adulation, his talents constantly stance occurred, which I shall relate, as received from associates and acquaintances, important in its influence upon his character silenced the remonstrances of pride, and were and destiny. Passing slowly by a river that

to the hand that stirs them into music, and
nothing, but the rude jar that breaks them,
can hush their heavenly harmony. Thus was
it with Augusta. She watched the ship that
bore De Forrest from her view, till it became
a speck on the distant seas, and then, with
tearful eyes, retired to the solitude of her
chamber.

Reader, can I paint to thee the agony that
shook that youthful bosom, when, not three
months after her lover's departure, she saw a
paper, announcing the marriage of Julius De
Forrest of the U. S. Navy to Miss Elvira
Davenport?

washed the borders of the town, a startling,
shriek fell upon his ear, and suddenly looking
up, he beheld a pleasure boat capsized, and
two or three persons clinging to its keel.
With the quickness of thought, he sprang to
their assistance, and by the aid of numbers
who flocked immediately to the spot, extricated
them from their dangerous condition. The
person whom his individual efforts rescued
from destruction, was a young and almost
lifeless female. As he committed her to the
hands of others, and her long dark hair fell
over her pallid features and swan like neck,
for the first time since his acquaintance with
Elvira Davenport, her image forsook his mem- Yes, it was even so. The fickle youth had
ory. This incident was not easily forgotten, once more heard the voice of his first betrothed,
and the girlish countenance of his new ac-and he dared not encounter the anger, or
quaintance visited all his dreams. The make the sacrifice, which would follow the
following day he called at her dwelling. The revelation of his unfaithfulness.
artless expressions of her gratitude, the
undisguised kindness of her pensive glance,
and the youthful face and movements of one
whom Julius thought surpassed not only all
he had witnessed, but all he had conceived of
beauty, enchanted his own volatile mind.
Morning and evening he was constantly in her
society, and this young and lovely being,
introduced to him as her preserver from
death, loved him with an ardor and devoted-
ness, that her heart had never before expe-
rienced. Julius knew that he was treading
on fearful ground, he recollected his solemn
engagement to another, and yet, his habitual
and confirmed Irresoluteness prevented him
from avoiding a new attachment, or disclosing
the facts ere that attachment had ripened into
intimacy. The circumstances of Augusta's
situation attracted his finest feelings. She
was a widow's daughter, and her father had
perished for the flag under which it was De
Forrest's glory to sail. Scarcely seventeen
summers had expanded the roses upon her
cheek, and matured the fairy form, his arm had
rescued from the wave. Of delicate sensibili-
ties and cultivated taste, she had grown up like
a tender and beautiful flower in that remote
village, and her earliest, warmest love was
given to him, who vowed to be hers, and
promised faithfulness for ever. Yes, gentle
reader, the evening before Julius De Forrest
left the port of — and by the light of the
vestal moon, his hand was engaged to Augusta
Graham, and he had assured her that he would
soon return, and make her his own, his dear-
loved bride. Now, with De Forrest, there
was no calculating villany in this; it was the
result of Irresolution; he dared not repress
his passion or terminate his intercourse with
the object of his idolatry; he had forgotten
Elvira, and now really loved Augusta, and
really meant to make her his wedded wife.

But though man may forget, and trifle with affection, woman does not; she cannot. The delicate strings of her spirit are ever responsive

An

greatly to the splendor of the scene. inquisitive spectator might have observed, among the collection of naval officers, one who seemed the only melancholy personage of the manly group, with whom he marched. His firm and graceful figure advanced not with its usual elasticity, a hot flush was upon his cheek, and the cap, almost slouched over his forehead, concealed his piercing, but downcast eyes. It was De Forrest. Conscience was thundering at his soul with a voice that drowned the reverberations of the cannon. The martial music, that sent its inspiring melody into every heart, fell upon leaden ears; he saw nothing, he heard nothing, he thought of nothing, but his perfidious conduct. The day passed, and ere sunset, De Forrest separated himself from the hilarity of the scene, and wandered with absent mind, toward Months passed on golden pinions, until the harbor. His sword trailed carelessly, and Julius once more took leave for a brief with a clanging noise over the pavements. absence. Several of the Government vessels, Cursed, cursed irresolution,' he murmured, were quartered off the village of - where De why could I not summon courage to avoid Forrest had formed his intimacy with Augusta. the sorrow I must have caused one, whom I There was to be a celebration of another anni-sincerely loved. I have stood unmoved in versary of independence, and the military in the battle, and yet, and yet-I durst not tell her vicinity, with the naval force in the harbor, had I was engaged to another, or restrain my made arrangements for combined operation, growing admiration; or, in the failure of and a mutual participation in the ceremonies this, inform Elvira, my love for her had and festivities of the day. If it had been possi- ceased.' As these thoughts occupied his ble, Julius would have avoided all share in the mind, he looked inquiringly upward, and contemplated display, for, though he had heard discovered that he was passing the residence nothing of Augusta since his departure, he of Mrs. Graham. Quickly as he withdrew his dreaded meeting her eye, or witnessing the gaze, he perceived sitting near the opened coldness his infidelity must have occasioned. casement, a countenance that appeared faBut, as the ship, to which he was attached lay miliar. It was not, it could not be Augusta. in the port, and his assistance had been Once more he looked with unrestrained curiexpected, he reluctantly advanced to his desti-osity. The eye was certainly Augusta's, but nation, and joined the party of officers, who the face, pale, drooping, and the thin, white proceeded to the shore. The weather was exceedingly fine and well adapted to the occasion. A few fleecy clouds veiled the meridian brightness of the sun, and formed an agreeable protection from the otherwise oppressive heat. A slight wind rustled the thick, green foliage of the trees, and distilled deli-full of surprise, of agony— cious odors from garden, and field, and forest. Nature was clothed in her holiday attire, as if appareled for the gala. The inhabitants were animated with general joy, and thronged the windows, doors, and side walks, to witness and assist the fete. War, with its heavy curtain of horror, had withdrawn. The gates of commercial enterprise were once more open, and the national banner had been upheld with honor and success. The ceremonies of the anniversary were such as to warm and elevate every American heart. The cannon of the fort echoed through the air, and the heavy artillery from the ships thundered over the sea, while the long line of the militia and naval procession, with the stars and stripes, unfurling the exulting folds over their heads that had led them to so many victories, added

hand, partly lost in a profusion of dark curls, as it supported her head,―no; it could not be Augusta. At that moment the gaze of the hitherto unobserving female met his, there was one intense glance, in which the spirit seemed to come forth, and then, a shriek, wild,

And when, as

The summer sun was approaching the western horizon, when a funeral procession entered the grave-yard of —. Reader, among that procession, were stout hearted men, but no eye was unwet. they surrounded a newly opened grave, the solemn voice of the man of God uttered in broken accents, Dust to dust,' loud sobbings broke forth on every side, and every head was bent in grief. Slowly, sadly they departed, and left the dews of evening to fall upon the resting place, of a young, and broken hearted girl.

De Forrest, but I will not rake him from the ashes of dissolution to add poignancy to his bitter punishment. Thoughtless, wavering youth! may the result of thy conduct prove a

beacon to all who know thy history, while it adds one to that black catalogue of evils, The Effects of Irresolution.

Poor Rosalie.

BY MRS. OPIE.

Y.

[The following pages record a remarkable circumstance which occurred a few years ago in some part of France;

but, as I made no memorandum of it at the time, I have forgotten the when and the where; nor can I recollect the

names of the persons concerned. All I can vouch for is, that the outline of the story, and the leading events, are perfectly true.]

In a small village in, as I believe, the south of France, lived an elderly lady, who was supposed to be rich, though her style of living was rather penurious. But as her charities were many, and she denied no one but herself, she was regarded with affectionate respect; and was particularly commended when she took into her house a young girl, whom I shall call Rosalie, the daughter of humble, but of very estimable parents.

Rosalie's childhood was happy; and so might her youth have been, had she not lost one of the best of mothers when she was only twelve years old: a mother who, having had rather a superior education, sedulously endeavored to impart her knowledge to her daughter. Rosalie's father, for some years after the death of his wife, seemed to think his child sufficient for his happiness; but at length he married again; and, in his second choice, he gave to himself and his daughter a domestic tyrant. Poor Rosalie toiled all the day, and sometimes half the night, to please her task-mistress, who, as soon as she had a child, insisted that her husband's daughter should be its nurse, and do the chief part of the household work besides.

woman consented to give up Rosalie, and the had missed her every day, and that he loved dear pleasure of tormenting her. It was a great her dearly. Certain it is, that, lost in agreetrial to Rosalie and to her father to be sepa-able thought, she stood looking at herself in a rated; he, however, was consoled by the belief glass far longer than she had ever done before; that his ill-fated child would be happier away and, in the intoxication of her vanity, newly from home; but she had no such comfort. awakened by the praises which she had overOn the contrary, she feared that her too yield-heard, she exclaimed aloud, as she drew off ing parent would miss her ready duty and her gown, 'Oh, le joli bras! Oh, le joli bras!' filial fondness. Still, as her health was be- (Oh the pretty arm!) and she prepared for ginning to suffer for want of sufficient rest, she bed that night vain and conscious of her perfelt the necessity of the removal, and was sonal beauty. But her heart soon reproached deeply thankful to her benefactress. As the her for having given way to a mean, unworthy old lady had only one female servant, Rosalie pride; and she said to herself, Well, if wedbecame her waiting-maid as well as amanuen- dings and entertainments always turn heads sis; and the gardener, a married man, who did as these have turned mine, I hope I shall never not live in the house, officiated sometimes as go to another: but then' she modestly added, her footman. The chief part of her fortune perhaps I am weaker than other girls!' Howwas settled on a nephew and niece who lived ever, prayer relieved the burdened heart of at a distance; but she informed Rosalie and the young and humble penitent, and she soon her friends, that she had left her in her will a sunk into the deep unconscious slumbers of comfortable independence. Her motive for healthy innocence. Alas! to what overmentioning this bequest was, probably, the whelming agony did she awake! Having risen, suspicion which she was known to entertain, spite of her fatigue, at the usual time, she was that a young man in the village, of a higher quitting the room with as light a step as she rank than Rosalie, beheld her with admiration; entered it, looking back to be certain that she and she hoped that his parents might not object had not disturbed the old lady, when she saw to the marriage, should a mutual attachment that the curtains of her bed were turned back, take place, if they knew that she had provided that the bell-rope was tied up, and, on apfor her protege. The poor girl herself was too proaching nearer, she found that something humble to suspect that any one admired her. was drawn quite close round the neck of her She only knew that Auguste St. Beuve, who benefactress; and that, while she slept, probawas a general favorite, spoke to her with great bly, some murderous hand had deprived her of kindness, and that he sometimes stopped to life! At first she stood motionless, paralyzed converse with her when he met her on the with horror, but was restored only too soon to a road. But there is reason to believe she had sense of feeling. She rent the air with her overheard him pass some encomiums on her shrieks! The gardener, who was already at person on the memorable evening when they work, immediately rushed into the room, folmet at her cousin's wedding-the only festival lowed by the other servant; and they were as she had ever been permitted to attend-and distracted as she was when they found what that she had remembered and repeated these had happened. In a short time the room was praises at a moment, which, as it afterwards ap- filled with many who mourned, more who peared, was big with her future fate. Rosalie wondered, and some who began to suspect left those nuptial festivities at no late hour, yet and accuse. Who had done the cruel deed? long after the gardener had gone home. The Who had a motive to do it?" The first thing Happily, Rosalie's mother had been enabled other servant, who was always deaf, and who was to ascertain if she was quite dead; and to instil into her mind the duty of entire sub- then was more than usually sleepy, let her in, they proved she had been dead some hours. mission to the divine will; she, therefore, bore and immediately went to her own bed; while The next duty was to see whether she had her hard lot with cheerful resignation. But, Rosalie, who slept in the old lady's apartment, been robbed ; and it was discovered that her however little her harsh and unkind step-mo- undressed in the sitting-room adjoining, for pockets had been turned inside out, and some ther appreciated her worth, Rosalie was beheld fear of disturbing her. Never had the poor old plate had been removed from a closet by the whole neighborhood with affectionate Rosalie looked so well, and never (for some below. There was no trace of any footstep in pity and esteem, except, perhaps, by those years at least) had she felt so happy. It was the garden, but the window of the lower room mothers who were mortified to hear her called the first marriage that she had ever witnessed; was open. the prettiest as well as the best girl in the the first time she had ever worn a dress that Doubtless she had died by strangulation; village; yet even they were forced to own she was peculiarly pretty and becoming; and her but was it possible that Rosalie had heard no was pious and dutiful; though certainly they youth, for she was only just eighteen, made noise, no struggles? And she was strictly could not think her a beauty;' and every one her pleasure in both these things natural, and interrogated; but her eye was wild, and her was pleased when the old lady, before men- perhaps excusable. But still, her greatest senses so disordered, she seemed incapable tioned, offered to take her as a companion.- delight had been derived from her father's of understanding the questions put to her. At first, the step-mother declared she could presence. He had been with her all the day, There were some persons present who believed not afford to lose her services; but, on the and without his wife! And she had hung on that this was consummate acting: and when, kind friend's promising to pay all the expense his arm; he had told her she looked well, on being asked if she knew what the old lady of a servant in her place, and on her giving and danced well; and, what was far more pre- had in her pocket, she said, 'Yes;' and taking handsome presents to the children, the selfish || cious, he had said she was a good girl, that he|| her murdered friend's purse out of her own

As child succeeded to child, Rosalie's fatigues increased every year; and if her father ventured to repay her patient industry by an affectionate caress, his wife desired him not to spoil still more, by his foolish fondness, a girl whom he had sufficiently spoiled already.

saw her, and that rushing into those arms
which vainly endeavored not to close on her,
she exclaimed, in a tone which truth alone can
give, 'Father, I am innocent, quite innocent!'
he pressed the poor sufferer to his bosom
again and again, saying, in a voice suffocated
with emotion, I believe thee! I believe thee!'
from that moment Rosalie's health revived.
However, he visited her no more, as he was
again worried into an acknowledgment that it
was just possible she might be implicated in the
black deed, though he could not conceive how;
but the reason of his absence was concealed
from her, lest she should have a relapse.

pocket, exclaimed, Here, take it, take it!' it
was thought that, actuated by remorse, she had
desired them to remove from her what she
had endangered her soul to gain. But where
is the pocket-book, and plate?' What pocket-
book-what plate?' was her agitated reply.
• Surely she who knew where to find the purse,
knows where to find the rest of the stolen
goods!' 'Stolen!' repeated the poor girl,
uttering a piercing shriek, as the consciousness
of being suspected came over her mind,
'stolen -the purse was given me to buy
faggots for the poor-the poor-the poor
indeed, now! Oh! my dear, lost, murdered
benefactress! Then throwing herself on the There was another person who Rosalie vain-
body, she gave way to such a burst of agony, ly hoped would visit her in her distress,
that even the most suspicious of her observers Auguste St. Beuve-whose praises had be-
could scarcely believe she was even privy to trayed her into the weakness of self-admiration
the murder. It was now discovered that the-but he neither came nor sent! And the
piece of linen which lay near the corpse, was
an apron of Rosalie's; and though it was
contrary to all probability, that, if she had Her trial had been delayed, in order to give
been guilty, she would not have removed this time to discover the plate and pocket-book,
fancied evidence out of sight, still, agitation of and also to find out who, amongst the young
mind was said to account satisfactorily for men in the village, were the most intimate
this suspicious circumstance; and ere one associates of Rosalie. Accordingly, the strict-
half hour more had elapsed, Rosalie, stunned, || est inquiries were instituted; but the virtuous
bewildered, and unable to do any thing but
weep, was committed to the prison of the next
town on the charge of having STRANGLED HER

poor girl was frequently repeating to herself,
And docs he, too, believe me guilty?'

it. And she persevered in her delicate and well-meant refusal, till her father, instigated by his wife, commanded her to accept the money; then she complied, and not reluctantly, when she found that, on condition of her paying for her board, she would be again received into his house. Once more, therefore, she was under her father's roof; and she tried to bear, in the pleasure of being near him, and still beloved by him, the increased persecutions which she had now to undergo. Her tyrant was continually telling her that she still believed her to be the murderer's accomplice ; at least, therefore, she could not do too much to show her gratitude for being admitted under the roof of a respectable person; and there were times when Rosalie had reason to believe her father was persuaded to be of his wife's opinion. She had, also, the misery of finding herself sometimes shunned by those who had once professed a friendship for her. Auguste St. Beuve no longer stopped to talk with her when they met; and it was evident that, till it should please heaven to bring the real murderer to justice, a stain would always rest on her character: At length, her daily trials, spite of her trust in providence, deprived her and modest girl had no associates whatever of of strength sufficient to labor as usual; and the other sex; and though one young man she had soon the added misery of being told visited her in prison, it was believed he had no by her brothers and sisters, of whom she was previous intimacy with her. Auguste St. very fond, that their mother said she was a The gardener and the other servant had Beuve was the only one who had ever paid her very wicked woman, and they ought not to love both been examined; but he was able to prove any attention, and his situation in life placed her. It was at the foot of the cross that an alibi, and there was no reason to suspect him above suspicion. At length, after she had Rosalie sought refuge on these occasions, and the deaf woman. It was some time before been for many days persecuted by the en-there she found it!-there she found power to Rosalie entirely recovered the use of her treaties of her priest and others, that she would bear her trials without murmuring, though she reason; and she almost lost it again when she confess, the hour for her appearance at the could not conquer the increasing debility recollected where she was, and why she was awful bar arrived; and she stood there unsup-which anxiety of mind and over fatigue had there. But Rosalie now felt the advantage of ported by any earthly aid, save that of conbeing habitually pious: for, knowing in whom scious innocence. The trial was long-the to trust, she was at length able to look her examination severe-and the circumstances accusers in the face with calmness and resig-were deemed strong against her. To every nation. To her solemn assurances that she was innocent, the reply was: 'Then if you did not commit the murder, who did?" I neither know nor suspect,' she answered; and I could have no motive to commit it, for to whom was my poor friend's life of such consequence as to me?'Nay, nay, you knew she had provided handsomely for you in her will.' I had forgotten that,' she exclaimed. Oh! my best, my only friend!' and she sobbed with renewed agony.

BENEFACTRESS!

A further trial awaited Rosalie. She expected that her step-mother would believe her guilty; but she was not prepared to hear that her father refused to see her-he who, but a few hours before, had said he loved her so tenderly and her health sunk under this blow. But, as the surgeon said her life was in danger, he went to the prison, though reluctantly, as his wife had tormented him into believing, or admitting, that Rosalie might, possibly, be privy to the murder; still, the moment that he

question, she answered in a modest, humble,
but firm manner; and whether it was that her
youth, her beauty, and gentle graces, prepos-
sessed her judges in her favor, or whether the
legal proof was not sufficient, she was, at the
end of some painful hours, unanimously ac-
quitted, and instantly discharged. Alas! the
delight of being declared innocent was damped
to poor Rosalie, by the fear that she should
not be permitted to find shelter under her
parent's roof. Avarice, however, did for her
what justice should have done. The heir of
her poor friend, convinced of Rosalie's inno-
cence, and pitying her sufferings, offered to
pay her immediately the legacy which his aunt
had left her; but the sensitive girl shrunk from
accepting it. She was suspected of having
committed, or concerted the murder of her
benefactress, in order to hasten her possession
of the sum in question. She, therefore, posi-
tively refused to run the risk of confirming
any one in the belief of her guilt by receiving

brought upon her. She had, meanwhile, one solace dear to her heart-that of visiting the grave of her mother and of her friend, of decorating them with funeral wreaths, and of weeding, with pious hand, the flowers which she had there planted. As her health was now evidently too delicate to perform her wonted tasks, her step-mother insisted on being paid more for her board; and she would soon have left her pennyless, but for the following circumstance :-One young man, as I have related above, and one only, had visited her in prison; led thither, for he was not acquainted with her, merely by the generous wish to prove his entire belief in her innocence. This young man left the village suddenly, soon after Rosalie's acquittal took place, after having, for some time, appeared disturbed in mind. A few weeks subsequent to his departure, he informed his relations that he should return no more, having left France for America. It was instantly reported and believed that he and Rosalie had secretly been lovers and accomplices in the murder; that when she had received her legacy she had refused to marry him; and that he had gone away in order to conquer