THE DANCE OF DEATH. 19
of your sister. It will be to me a gratifying me- morial of that talent which you do not sufficiently prize, and perhaps the eaggres herald of a happy future.’
“What mean you?’ said’ he turning suddenly round to.me with a serious «and anxious air, though-the moment before he had been gaily urging his preparations for departure. “ I will not deny,’ said I,“ that your sister Jacoba has so enchanted — that I cannot part with her por- trait.’:
“Her portrait!’ repeated he.—*-Well, so let it be. “Take the picture+keep it—fall in love with it—but not with my sister. Believe me, it is not that I would not give her to you, for I love the picture as’ I do her—nay, perhaps more. — There—with that picture you remove a le id from my lieart.’ “He pressed it into my hand; and dis- appeared.” ©
“Let me pass “hastily over the two following years. They have “no connexion with my friend, or with his concerns. He returned not at the time we had contemplated; the letter which.I received in his stead, seemed to breathe a spirit of returning melancholy;—of his family, he-said nothing. «His letters became shorter and less
frequent, and at last entirely ceased. . The pic-
ture, however, continued as“dear to me as ever;
often did I gaze upon it, though I tried to consi-
der it only as-a lovely painting. The parting
words of my friend had awakened in my bosom
a feeling of distrust; and, often as I looked at it,
the idea occurred to me that I was involved in
some ominous and mysterious tissue of events,
which, in spite of all my fferts, maintained an
unceasing ascendancy over we senses and my
soul.” .
“My journey was interrupted by the increas- ing debility and declining health of my uncle, who possessed-an estate in Jutland; he had named me his heir, and wished to see me once more before his deaths» Accordingly, I hurried back.
“I found my uncle better than I hadexpected,
but in great uneasiness relative to part of his
fortune, then in the hands of a firm in Copenha-
gen, which had lately encountered some serious
losses, and of whose doubtful credit be bad within
the last few weeks received more than one warn-
ing epistle from his friends. The presence of a
person of decision on the spot was evidently re-
quired, and F undertook the task, to which my
uncle agreed, on condition, soon as the
showid hastén back to him,
weet of my company as.
separated by that death
not be distant.
“] travelled as fast as possible, and found my- self, on my arrival in Copenhagen, so pressed on all sides by the numerous concerns I had to at- tend to, that 1 had not a moment to spare for myself or my friends. I had not visited one of them; and, in order not to shake the credit of the house by any open proceedings, which would inevitably have led to suspicion, had shown my- self as little as possible to my acquaintances;
when, on the second post day after my arrival, I received a letter from my uncle, announcing that he had had a relapse, and pressing my immediate return. had already put matters so far in train, that a friend; in whom I had confidence, might wind up the business; and as pondered the matter in my mind, it occurred to me. that, it could not be placed in. better hands, from his connexions-in the capitol, than in those of my friend Emanuel.
“-As yet I had only had time-to enquire. hastily after him; nor had I received any intelligence of him; for he had left the house from which his last letter-had been addressed to me, a long time be- fore; and no one was acquainted with his present abode.. By accident, I recollected an agent with whom he. used occasionally to be connected in business. I applied to him. 2
“© Your friend,’ he answered, “ is in the town; where: he: lives, 1 know,mot; but that you.will easily learn from his family.’
“His family!’ said 1, with astonishment.
s“¥es,’ continued she, “ the father, with his two eldest daughters, is at present in Frederick’s Hospital;. he has undergone a dangerous opera- tion, but is now recovering.’
“I felt my heart beat quicker. Jacoba, whore image I had been labouring so long to erase from my fancy—Jacoba was in my neighbourhood. I sLould see her once more; she was not forgotten, as I had sometimes supposed;she lived there as indelibly impressed as the traits of the dear pic- ture, whose graceful but silent charms I had never yet met with mortal maid to equal.
“] had little time to.spare, so I hurried towards the hospital, and entered the wing devoted to patients who paid for. their reception. I sent in my name to the pastor; it was well known to him, and Il was kindly received. The old man, for such he was, though I knew him at once, from his resemblance to his son, was still confined to-bed; a tea-table stood before it; and beside it sat—I could not doubt for a moment—Jacoba, more lovely.and blooming than ever; Regina, still: more sickly and fading than before. Our greeting was a silent one; but I saw at once that I was recognised by both.
“The talkative old man, when he had given me the information I required, and assured me that in half an hour I would find his son at his house, continued to support the conversation al- most alone. I should probably have listened with a more attentive ear to his really entertaining discourse, had not my thoughts been so much divided. between his daughters, the picture, and my own recollections. I confess, at the same time, it was on the fairest of these daughters that my glance rested the longest. She seemed ob- viously, as I had formerly thought, the original of the miniature. Yet, methought, I could now perceive many little differences which had for- merly escaped my observation; nay, even differ- ences between her features as they appeared to me now and before. 1 had some difficulty in re- sisting the old man’s invitation to remain with him till the arrival of his son, whom he expected
