The Spell of Belgium

ful to divine service, to pray for the repose of the souls of their deceased relatives and friends. The heavens were obscured by blac

versed half the city without meeting a living soul, except, perhaps, some tardy worsh

eminate features, and his upper lip was shaded by a light moustache; although he endeavoured to conquer the emotions which agitated him, it was not difficult to discover by the contraction of his brows, that bitter thoughts filled him with despair. The house before which he stood was that of a rich banker named Frügger. After having stood there some time, he lost hope of seeing in this dwelling the wished-for object, and with that, the courage to

! Thou hast forgotten me! Thou hast abandoned me! It is foolish for me to doubt it!

nd drew him from his somber reverie. He raised his head, his eyes sparkled, the expression of his features became nearly radiant, his steps were firmer, and with a species of cruel joy he directed himself towards the canal. It could not be doubted that the unfortunate you

think he had contemplated committing a crime to put an end to his troubles. He turned away and was soon far from the place where he had so

yourself in the world. God knows if he would have survived your suicide, if sorrow would not have brought him to the grave. And why? For a woman that you have loved, that you still love more than words can express! How do y

n to the canal. It was the last attempt of the spirit of evil upon his heart enfeebled

this angel with looks so pure, voice so sweet, expression so celestial, thoughts so candid, she could never deceive me. For her I would give my life.

hrough the vaulted roof, floating over the heads of the kneeling faithful. He entered more through curiosity and to distract his grief, than through piety, or to pray for the souls of the dead, as

at the order was building, which was finished with the authorization of Pope Adrian VI, under the invocation of St. André. The spectacle which the interior of the church presented at this moment was not calculated to inspire our hero with less sorrowful thoughts or more consoling reflections. Everything there spoke of death, eternity and purgatory. The nave was draped with black; upon all sides, upon the pillars, on the altar, on the candelabra, were funeral emblems, death's heads and cross bon

folds of her black silk cloak. He recognized her whose silence had made him suffer so cruelly. The other, an old man whose features were strongly marked with sternness and severity, was the father of Katharina. The female who had at first attracted his attention was the servant, whose eloquent gestures had caused to disappear, as if by enchantment, the sorrow and discouragement of the desolate lover, who thought no more of leaving the church. Drawin

e same instant put in his hand a letter, which he took without pronouncing a word. He continued to follow the three perso