CHAPTER XXXIII.

"On punit plus severement un ennemi par le mepris et par l'oubli, que par les chatimens les plus rigorieux: c'est, pour ainsi dire, le reduire au neant."

The disagreeable facts so long in detail, had now taken a new turn for the better, and Theodore and Alida were again in possession of more than former felicity, after their long separation. Alida soon began to recover in some degree her native cheerfulness, soothing the bosom of her lover with her grief-dispersing smile. The unpleasant fears that had such a length of time harrassed her mind, were now happily terminated by the return of Theodore and the clearing up of all doubts and suspicions concerning him, to the utter confusion of Bonville. All her corroding anxieties were now removed, and recent events had made her happy in comparison to what she was a few weeks before, and her present consolation fully compensated for all the preceding months of unhappiness.

Theodore was again happy in the society of Alida, the pensive sweetness of her manner, her innate goodness, and amiability, which had attracted and secured the early affections of his heart, and made impressions that could never be obliterated. He gave a minute account of all that had happened, from the time they had parted until they had met again.

He had visited the merchants in England with whom his father had been concerned in business, and he found as he expected, that he had been overreached by swindlers and sharpers. The pretended failure of the merchants with whom he was in company, was all a sham, as, also, the reported loss of the ships in their employ. The merchants had fled to England; he had them arrested, and they had given up their effects to much more than the amount of their debts. He therefore procured a reversion of his father's losses, with costs, damages and interests, when legally stated.

Theodore then made his next visit to Raymond's. His friends were joyfully surprised at his arrival. He stayed the night and related a long narrative to his friend. Early next day he proceeded from thence to his father's house, where he arrived after a considerable journey. Theodore found his parents more happy than he expected. With abundant joy they welcomed him whom they had given up for lost.

Theodore then related to his father all the incidents that had happened in England, minutely particularizing his conduct with regard to the merchants with whom his father had been connected, and then presented him with the reversion of the estate.

The old gentleman fell on his knees, and with tears streaming down his cheeks, offered devout thanks to the great Dispenser of all mercies.

In the meantime, the illness of Bonville had increased to an alarming degree. He sent for Theodore. He thought it his duty to attend the summons. When he arrived at the house of Bonville he was shown immediately into his apartment. He was surprised to see him stretched on a mattrass, his visage pale and emaciated, his countenance haggard, his eyes inexpressive and glaring. He held out his hand and feebly beckoned to Theodore, who immediately approached the bed-side.

"You behold me, Theodore," said he, "on the verge of eternity. I have but a short time to continue in this world." He evidently appeared to have suffered much from the remembrance of his ungenerous conduct towards Theodore.

"I have caused much unhappiness between you and your Alida," said Bonville, "to which you will scarcely think it possible that I was designedly accessory." He then confessed to Theodore that he had intercepted his letters, and begged his forgiveness. "I could say much more on the subject would my strength admit," said he, "but it is needless." Here Bonville ceased. Theodore found he wanted rest; medical aid had been applied, but without effect. Theodore then left him, promising to call again next morning.

He was startled at the confession of Bonville; he felt at first indignant, and meditated what course to pursue. After due reflection, he at length made the decision.

His devotions to Alida he did not wonder at. The pride of parental attachment and nature had graced her with every charm and accomplishment. He at length determined to cast a veil of pity over the actions of Bonville, and not to upbraid him, but to treat his past conduct with silent contempt, and endeavour as far as possible, to bury the remembrance of his errors in oblivion. He called to see him next morning; he perceived an alarming alteration in his appearance. He was cold--a chilling sweat stood upon his face, his respiration was short and interrupted, his pulse weak and intermitting. He took the hand of Theodore and feebly pressed it. He soon fell into a stupor; sensation became suspended. Sometimes a partial revival would take place, when he would fall into incoherent muttering, calling on the names of his deceased father, mother, and Alida. Towards night he lay silent, and only continued to breathe with difficulty, when a slight convulsion gave his freed spirit to the unknown regions of existence. Theodore attended his funeral, and then journeyed on to the dwelling of Albert. He informed Alida of the death of Bonville, and of his confession.

At the mention of Bonville's fate, she sighed deeply. "It is true," said she, "he has perplexed me with many vain fears, by misrepresentation, but could he have lived, I would freely have forgiven him."

He evidently fell a victim to disappointed pride and remorse at the remembrance of his own baseness.