THE SACRIFICE AND THE REWARD.

BY ELIZABETH O'HARA.

MAGDALEN and Clara Forrester were mother and daughter; though, from the very youthful appearance of the latter, they were frequently taken for sisters, while they seemed equally to require the surveillance of Miss Hooper, Mrs. Forrester's maiden aunt, who had brought her up from infancy, and seemed only to live to worship her. Clara was a widow--a young, beautitiful and wealthy widow, released from what was to her the matrimonial shackles. Can we imagine a happier being?

The late Mr. Forrester married his young wife when she was a child in mind and feelings, while he was a stern old man-older than her father, primmer than her governess. She loved him because she was told to do so, and because, though harsh to all, he was ever gentle to her. But there was no congeniality between them, no interchange of thought; she was his petted darling, not his wife; theirs was not the affection which survives death, which defies oblivion-theirs was not love. And when Mr. Forrester died, Clara, though properly shocked, wept but little more than when duty, some years previously, summoned him from his infant and his wife, and sent him into the remoter parts of India, while they remained in strict and dignified seclusion near Calcutta. Born and bred in that enervating clime, Clara, though naturally amiable, was a true specimen of the Asiatic. Her mind, like her body, had always listlessly reposed; her bearers carried her about; her doating aunt thought and acted for her. Her first joy was her child, her first grief was parting with her when the physician's words banished her to a more temperate clime. Clara supplicated for permission to accompany her treasure, but her husband was inexorable; he daily expected that he himself would soon be enabled to return to England, and would not allow his young wife to precede him. Year by year dragged on, and still the Forresters were scattered about, when death by claiming one united the others. The widow, then but thirty, hastened to complete her Indian affairs, and at length was restored to her beautiful Magdalen, then almost sixteen, and old enough to be companion and friend to her enraptured mother. It was thus we found them when we opened our story; and we hope that this short preface will excuse them from blame, even when we own that the widow and orphan felt no regrets to mar their felicity: they might now be said to be enjoying perfect happiness.

Yes, even in this "working-day world" of ours, there are moments of perfect unalloyed happiness; fleeting, perhaps, but oh, how sweet!-how their memory lingers with us, and throws a tinge over sadder moments! In joy we think not of sorrow to come; in our deepest misery, our severest trials, when struggling in poverty, when death, or the world and our own evil passions, have severed us from our nearest and dearest, still we love to recal past scenes of enjoyment ere grief fell on us. Are we sufficiently grateful for this--for the antidotes a merciful Creator has beneficently scattered in our path?

Still, enduring happiness is not the lot of man. Even in this case the storm was gathering to burst on their heads, the cloud was now but a speck in the horizon, while mother and daughter were equally unconscious of its approach. Miss Hooper, too, that careful guardian, where was she? Alas! even Argus once slept; and Miss Hooper was but an unsophisticated, unworldly

maiden aunt.

This peril-fraught cloud rose in the person of Gerald Deane, a young and handsome man, a distant connexion of Mr. Forrester, and as such a constant visitor at his widow's. Clara loved society, but she was too happy,

and, shall we say it, too indolent to seek it: those who
came were doubly welcome, and Gerald was soon do-
mesticated in their family-a dangerous inmate, an in-
How was Gerald to
timacy fraught with perils to all.
encounter two lovely and agreeable women without
yielding to their fascination, or, worse still, were they to
meet him daily and familiarly, and yet not feel his in-
fluence? With him there really was safety in numbers;
he sang with Magdalen, or played chess with her
mother as she lolled on her couch and indolently toyed
with that scientific game, and scarce knew which em-
ployment was preferable. With all man's thoughtless-
ness in these matters, he yielded to the enjoyments of
the moment, and cast not a thought beyond; with them
These are the cases in which
it was very different.
woman bears a double portion of the curse; Magdalen
could not blend her voice night after night with Gerald's,
and feel his rich notes melt into hers, without danger to
her peace of mind. What so seductive as music! You
papas who demur at a waltz and deprecate the proxi-
mity of polking, be assured there is far more to be feared
from a duet. A flirtation trips on and off in a ball-
room, and leaves a track as light as if on a sandy shore-
the next wave washes it away, the next comer confuses
it; but when we lean over the same instrument, when
our voices and ideas have seemed to mingle, whatever
Music
happens, those cherished strains must recal that hour
when, though but for a space, we were as one.
is indeed a great bond. Chess, too, is dangerous; and
Clara played oftener with Gerald than is quite safe for
a pretty widow, even though she have a grown-up
daughter, when, as was the case with our friends, there
were but very few years between the adversaries.

Gerald was seven or eight-and-twenty, an officer in the Indian army, returned on furlough. On his arrival in India he visited the Forresters rather frequently; and then Clara, in the dignity of her matronhood, treated the young ensign as a boy, and petted him as her kind husband's relative. Nor had she lost the habit when their respective situations were insensibly changed. She, from her quiet and luxurious life, had still preserved the freshness of her early beauty; and when Gerald was a man, and looked the veteran, and accomplished veteran, Clara was, in appearance and habits, a young woman. The disparity in their ages had disappeared; Gerald was now the protector, though each seemed unconscious of the change. So entirely so, that Magdalen, who had sprung forward with all the eastern precocity, never once dreamt that Gerald could look on her mother with a lover's eye; and thus she went on innocently forming an altar where he was enshrined and worshipped. Mother and daughter thus were rivals, though innocently and unsuspectingly.

It is said that lookers-on see most of the game; but then they must be both impartial and uninterested. Now Miss Hooper was far from this: with all woman's sometimes senseless, self-devotion, her whole life had been spent in adoring Clara. Her only sister died in giving birth to this idol; and from the day when the aunt first clasped her infant darling in her arms, she had no thought but for her happiness-in this world only, alas! her mind soared no higher. She had refused numberless handsome offers, that she might watch over her idol; but in her narrow estimate of good, she had perhaps marred her fate. She it was who contrived this wealthy match for Clara; wealth and station were the first requisites with her, and now that her niece had secured these, her next was to gratify her heart, and not see her a second time married to one whom she could not love. She had been almost jealous of Clara's love for her baby, since it was a pleasure in which she could not share; and though Magdalen now was dear to her, it was only as a reflexion of Clara; Magdalen's interests must ever be subservient to her pampered darling's; and then Miss Hooper would again play the same self-sacrificing part

for this younger Clara-again immolate herself before

their shrine.

"Attentions to mamma, aunt!"

"And why not to your mother, child? She is very young, very beautiful."

"She is, indeed-but-but-I do not think that Gerald-Mr. Deane is paying her attention."

"Then for whom are they meant?-for me? I know enough of the world to feel assured that a young man like Captain Deane does not visit a house like ours daily without ulterior views. Were not your poor mother so unprotected, if she had any male relations, this should be looked into. Something must be done; your mother's happiness must not be sacrificed. I can see that she is daily becoming more and more attached to Mr. Deane, and no wonder: he is a most delightful young man, and his attentions are unmistakable. But he does not declare himself; and I can see how Clara suffers from his silence. I must take some steps."

"No, no; don't aunt; don't, dear aunt," Magdalen gasped out. "Do not compromise mamma's name by interference. If it be as you say, he will speak-be sure of it but there must be some mistake."

:

"If there be a mistake, it is one that is killing your mother."

Gerald might at present, without disparagement to either party, almost be compared to a certain animal between the two bundles of hay; and yet if he had a preference it was for Magdalen. She was better educated, and of a finer and higher tone of character than her mother; and yet so artless, enjoying everything so thoroughly. Now an enthusiastic woman, well-judging and eloquent; now a child, romping, literally romping, with her dog; shouting with laughter amongst a band of merry children; scrambling in the hedges for wild flowers; or dancing down a solemn partner in the polka. When such a girl does not degenerate into the tomboy, she is irresistible with most men: there is something so exhilirating in graceful activity! Who does not like to watch a kitten bounding about, or a lamb frisking in the exuberance of youth and life? Gerald, therefore, though he sincerely admired Clara, was more inclined to love Magdalen; and had not so guarded himself but that the latter was silently conscious of his preference. There is something delightful in that state of-no, not uncertainty when we feel that we are loved, though no avowal has passed; when we give ourselves up to our new feelings, well aware that they are reciprocated, though our secret is still unsuspected by others, and we are spared the torments of publicity. Then it is that we treasure up half-words, looks, tones, that cannot be repeated even to a mother, and yet are "confirmation strong as holy writ" to us, though in themselves nothing. This was Magdalen's position; she loved, she felt that she was loved, but the love on either side was unavowed; and unsuspected by Clara, who was beginning to feel a warm attachment for Gerald. It was the first "It will kill your mother, Magdalen," Miss Hooper time she had been thus thrown into the society of a repeated. "She has never loved till now. I know her young and highly-gifted man, and we must not wonder well: she is no child, fancying an attachment in every if she yielded to his influence. She little thought that passing fancy: she loves. I know you have a sort of Magdalen was her successful rival; and, being accus- prepossession for this Mr. Deane; but your feelings tomed from infancy to consider herself and her own cannot equal your mother's in intensity. She has no attractions paramount, received his attentions with un- suspicion of your penchant; if she had, she would disguised pleasure, believing them intended for herself; sacrifice herself to it, and make Mr. Deane miserable: while he and her daughter supposed that she was actu- for, after all, you are quite unfitted to him; there is ated by other sentiments, and was countenancing their such a disparity of age between you-you are scarcely attachment. Miss Hooper was more clear-sighted; she sixteen, he nearly thirty." (Artful Miss Hooper! you at length perceived the situation of the parties, and de- understood addition and subtraction well.). Depend termined to put an end to their suspense. She accordingly on it, a marriage between you would be for the happione day, when alone with Magdalen, began by askingness of neither; and therefore I speak to you in time." her if she had noticed the great change in her mother's looks.

"In mama's looks! Surely-no, dear aunt-surely, surely you do not think she is ill?"

"Not ill, perhaps, Magdalen at present; but I fear for her: her mind is uneasy. Poor thing! her's has been a life of trial."

"Of trial, aunt? I cannot, I do not understand you. I always fancied mama had been so happy--except in parting with me and losing dear papa; and now, surely, we are all very happy. What can you mean, aunt ?"

“Yes—you like others, Magdalen, only judge by appearance. Because your dear mother has been exempt from poverty, you conclude that she can never have known sorrow; and yet what has her life been? Look at her-a young and lovely woman, married when a child! Your father was a kind and goed man, Magdalen ; still, he was many years older than his wife-no companion for her. But even his presence was denied her. Separated from him and from her child, she was condemned to a lonely life for many years; and now that she is at length entering into society, for which she is so well fitted, I begin to fear for her peace of mind."

"Aunt !"

"Yes; you cannot be so blind as not to perceive the impression Mr. Deane's attentions have made on her."

But

Magdalen wept in agony. In her inmost heart she felt that Gerald loved her-that he had paid her mother no more attentions than were her due still he had never said anything. She was young and inexperienced could her vanity have misled her? even were she right in her conjecture-if Gerald did love her-then her mother's happiness was wrecked; for she must love him. Who could see him so often, and not love him? Oh, it was misery, misery, everywhere !

;

These wily words rang like a knell in Magdalen's ears. How tell her aunt that dry, plain-spoken personage, who treated her both as a child and a woman-that she loved Gerald better than life!-how doom her mother to hopeless misery! Her resolve was taken: Gerald had all but declared himself to her she knew that that very evening was to have decided his fate they were to have strolled to some favourite haunt; and she felt, with woman's intuition, that he would then say the words she so longed yet dreaded to hear. And now those words must not be spoken; he must be led to her mother's feet. Her peace of mind must not be destroyed: come what may, she must be spared.

:

Gerald came-his lingering hesitation dispelled. Full of Magdalen, he found her cold, haughty, coquettish; while her mother was still unchanged. For the first time, she assumed the airs of the heiress and beauty; and her lover thought that she wished to try her power. Never had she been so disagreeable, nay, almost impertinent. Clara was surprised, and almost hurt at this new manner, and strove to atone for it by renewed kindness to its victim. It became indeed a relief to him to turn from the capricious Magdalen to the kind and gentle Clara. Miss Hooper, too, played her part with consummate art: she invited a distant relation, a titled and rich man, to the house, with whom Magdalen appeared to be wholly occupied; while Gerald stood aloof in indignant jealousy. This was the severest trial to the