Memories: The Guardian Spirit [pp. 313-320]

316 Memories. The Guardian spirit. [MAY
time, until the two actors arose to depart, and the
girl linking her arm with tender confidence in that
of her companion, they turned towards the spot
where we stood. We simultaneously started, and
uttered an exclamation of surprise, for in the one,
we beheld the fine, manly countenance, and noble
bearing of the purchaser of the beautiful picture,
while the other possessed the unmistakable features, and the soft, melancholy expression of the
picture itself! We could not be deceived-she
was its bright original!
"As this interesting c ouple sl owly p asse d u s, we
had time to scrutinize them. There was a singular resemblance betwee n the two, which at onc e
disprov ed our fir st impres sion that they were
lovers. T he same flowing, classical outline distinguished each face-the same large spiritual
eyes, except that, in the young man, they wore a
deeper hue, and shone with a haughtier glancethe same bright lips, each bearing on its ruby arch
an expression strangely, indescribably sweet-and
the same beautiful, haunting countenance, which
spiritualized every feature, until the face grew angel-like in its heavenly serenity. The golden
tresses of the girl shaded her cheek, like sunbeams fringing the morning's rosy clouds, while
the waving locks, which fell over the brow of the
young man, were ebon in their rich darkness.
This contrast constituted the only striking dissimilitude between them.
Life.
"There was a fascinating interest about my young
friend, which entirely enthralled and entranced me.
The witchery of that angelic countenance, so tender in its sadness, was irresistible; and when its
seraph serenity was displaced by a brighter expression of mirth, or gayety, you could but wish the
soft melancholy back again-laughter seemed so
inharmonious with the spiritual language of the
eyes, and the saint-like sweetness of the features.
It was as though some artificial glare had overpowered the silvery beams of a moon-lighted scene,
or as if the dream-lost melodies of a Beethoven,
so holy in their deep, echoing tones, had been broken and subdued by the brilliant staccato strains,
and vivacious sparkle of a Rossini.
" Between Rosalie Aubrey and her brother, there
was a depth of attachment poetic in its characterpicturesque in its ties. On the part of the gentle
sister, it was the vital principle of her heart's being;
illumining her whole face with the religion of
Love, and where circumstances invited its evidence, making music of sweet words, and tones of
tenderness-like the statue of the classic legend,
moved to melody by the golden sun-beam. She
s tood as a shielding andel b etwee n her brother and
the world's vicesta holy spirit ministering, to him
of heavenly things. He loved her as a superior
being-with an idolatrizing devotion, which, even
in the meridian glow of happiness, seemed ever to
rejoice with trembling, fearing lest Death, the
covetous seeker of the Beautifuil, might rob him
of his talisman. My own observation soon made
me a partaker of the doating brother's apprehension, for there was a capricious bloom upon the
soft cheek, like the unfolding and shutting of the
rose-a low, ceaseless, hollow cough-a restless
brilliance about the dark eyes, which whispered
the young, and pure, and fair, was eat1y doomed.
Of this she herself seemed sometimes aware, and
the unfailing tenderness with which she persisted
in following her brother's erratic fortunes, tearfully saying,' there are but two of us, why should
we be parted. our destinies are one —why strive
to separate the streams which have so long mingled;' the touching earnestness with which she
sought to throw around him associations of friendship, and to bind him with ties other than her own,
both told that she, too, had part in these forebodings.
" Alas! for those dim, shadowy presentiments
" It was after the lapse of some fleeting weeks,
that lingering in the city of —, I found myself drawn within the vortex of its frivolities. One
bright midnight, I had exchanged the lustre of Nature's brilliance for the glare of a festal scene,
and leaning in abstraction against a marble column, in the thronged and heated apartment, my
eye unconsciously followed the swiftly passing
dancers. As I thus gazed, musingly, upon the
gay groups around me, a gossamer robe brushed
my arm, in a rapid evolution of the dance, and a
volume of silken ringlets swept my cheek with
feathery touch. I turned abruptly towards the
couple of whose juxtaposition I had been so unceremoniously made aware, and as the giddy whirl
bore them on, I behleld, for a moment, the dark,
dreamy eyes, and light-like tresses of my beauteous Incognita. Another glance told me that the
companion of my adventure-the sharer of my interest in the lovely stranger, had effected an inimitable stroke of diplomacy, for it was no other than
he, who now acted as her Cavalier de Danse, and
who, at its conclusion, made myself a participant
in his fair fortune of acquaintanceship.' Shall I
not complete the quartette?' spoke a musical
voice at my side;'I am ever the happy sharer of
my sister's pleasures.'
" The unknown owner of the picture, the once
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Memorie,s. The Guardian Spirit.
[MAY