(Concluded from our last.) Chapter IV.

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume IV, Issue 279, 1 April 1848, Page 3

(Concluded from our last.) Chapter IV.

When Frederick came to bis senses lie found himself in his chamber, seated on the same sofa of Utrecht brocade which he had watered with his tears two hours before. On the table before him lay his fiddle which he had dashed to atoms against the corner of the chimney. On seeing the object of his affection, the enraptured musician, the rival of Castero, rushed towards it with a cry of joy'ul surprise. He took the instrument in his hands — he devoured it with his eyes, and then, at the summit of his felicity, he clasped it to his bosom. The instrument was perfectly uninjured, without even a mark of the absuid injustice of its owner. Not a crack, not a fissuae, only the two gracefully shaped § § to give vent to the double stream of sound. J3ut is he not the victim of some triek — lias no other fiddle been subsiituted for the broken Straduaiius? No! 'tis his own well-known fiddle, outside and in — the same delicate proportions, the same elegant neck, and the same swelling rotundity ot contour that nii^ht have made it a model lor the Praxiteles of violins. He placed the instrument against his shoulder and seized the bow. But all of a sudden he paused — a cold perspiration bedewed his face — his limbs could scarcely support him. What if the proof deceives him ? What if — ; but incertitu !e was intolerable, and he passed the bow over the strings. Oh blessedness ! Frederick recognized the unequalled tones of his instrument — he recognized its voice, *>o clear, so melting, and yet so thrilling and profound. Now, then, with his fiddle once more restored to him, with love in his heart, and hatred alas lending its invigorating energies, he felt that the future was still before him, and that Castero should pay dearly for his triumph of the forrr er day. When these transports had a little subsided, Frederick could reflect on the causes which gave this new turn to his thoughts. ' The defeat he had sustained — his insane anger against his Straduarius — his attempt of suicide — his meeting with the stranger, and his extraordinary disappearance amidst the waves of the lake. But, with the exception of the first ofthe.se incidents, had any of them really happened ? He could not believe it. Was he not rather the sport of a deceitful dream ? His fiddle — he held it in his hands — he never could have broken it. In fact, the beginning of it all was his despair at being beaten, and he was indebted to his excited imagination for the rest — the suicide, the lake, and the mysterious Unknown. " That must be it," he cried at last, delighted at finding a solution to the mystery, and walking joyously up and down the chamber. "I have had a horrible dream — a dream with my eyes open ; that is all." Twu gentle taps at the door made him start ; but the visitor was only one of the brewery boys, who gave him a letter from the burgomaster. " Yoran, did you see me go out about two hours ago ?" asked Frederick aoxiously. " No, meinheer," said the boy. " And you did not see me come in ?" " No, meinheer." " That's all right," said the youth, signing for Yoran to retire. " Now, then," he said, " there can be no doubt whatever that it was all a dream." Opening the burgomaster's letter, he ran through it in haste. The first magistrate of Haarlem informed Frederick Katwingen that he had an important communication to make to him, and requested him to come to his house. The musician again placed his lips on his instrument, and again pressed it gratefully to

his heart ; and then placed it with the utmost care within its beautiful case, which he covered with a rich cloth. Locking the case, and looking at it as a mother might look at the cradle of her new-born baby, he betook himself to the mansion of Jansen Pyl. That stately gentleman was luxuriously reposing in an immense arm chair, covered with Hungary leather. His two elbows rested on the arms, and enabled him to support in his hands, the largest, the reddest, the fattest face that had ever ornamented the configuration of a Dutch functionary before. Mr. Jansen Pyl wore at that moment the radiant look of satisfaction which only a magistrate can assume who feels conscious that he is in the full sunshine of the approbation of his sovereign. His whole manner betrayed it — the smile upon his lip, the fidgety motion of his feet, and the look which he darted from time to time round the room, as if to satisfy himself that his happiness was " not a sham but a reality." But his happiness seemed far from contagi- , ous. On his right han 1 there was a lovely creature, seated on a footstool, who did not partake his enjoyment. There was something so sweetand so harmonious in her expression, that you felt sure at once she was as good as she was beautiful. There was poetry also in her dejected attitude, and in the long lashes that shadowed her blue eyes ; nor was the charm diminished by the marble neck bent lowly down, and covered with long flowing locks of the richest brown. And the poetry was, perhaps, increased by the contrast offered by the sorrowing countenance of the girl to the radiant visage of ihe plethoric individual in the chair. Whilst the ambitious thoughts of the burgomaster rose to the regions inhabited by the Stadtholder, the poor girl's miserable reflections returned upon herself. Her eyes were dimmed with tears. It was easy to see that that had long been their occupation, and that some secret sorrow preyed upon the repose of the fair maid of Haarlem. It was Mama, the betrothed of Frederick. On ihe left of the burgomaster, negligently leaning on the back of the magistrate's chair, was a man still young in years, but so wrinkled and careworn, from study or bad health, that he might have passed for old. The man's expression was cold and severe ; his look proud and fiery ; his language rough and ha.sh. On analysing his features you could easily make out that he had prodigious powers of mind, a character imperious and jealous, and such indomitable pride that he might do a mischief to any rival who might be bold enough to cross his path. Now, we are aware of one at least who ran the risk ; for the man was Laurentius Castero. Frederick Katwingen started back on entering the burgomaster's room. His eyes encountered the glance of Castero, and in the look then interchanged, they felt that they were enemies between whom no reconciliation could take place. From Laureutius, Frederick turned his eye to Mama. The sorrowful attitude of the maiden would have revealed to him all that had happened, if the selfsatisfied look of his rival had left anything to be learned. The conqueror browbeat the vanquished. " Mr. Katwingen," said the burgomaster, deliberately weighing every word, "you are aware of the high complimeut paid by the Stadtholder to our city." '• My dream comes true," thought Frederick as he bowed affirmatively to the magistrate's enquiry. "And you are also aware," pursued the burgomaster, "of the Stadtholder's wishes as far as you are personally concerned ?" Frederick bowed again. " Thanks to my humble supplications," continued Jansen Pyl, raisiug his enormous head with an air of dignity, " our gracious governor has condescended to honour our good town with his august presence for twenty-four hours longer. But what ought to fill you with eternal gratitude is this ; that he has determined to hear you a second time when he returns to-morrow from inspecting the works at Shravnag. I hope you will redouble your efforts, and do all you can to please your illustrious auditor ; anil, if any thing is required to stimulate your ambition, and add to your endeavours to excel, I will add this — the hand of Mai'na will be bestowed on the conqueror at this second trial." " But father ! " said the maiden. "It is all settled," interrupted the burgomaster, looking astonished at the girl's audacity ; you are the reward I offer to the protege of the Stadtholder. You bear what I say, gentlemen ?" he added turning to the rivals. " I shall certa nly not miss the appointment," said Castero, throwing back his head proudly. "If to-morrow is not as glorious to me as to-day has been, I will break my'violin, and never touch a bow again as long as I live." " As for me,'* said Frederick, " if I do not make up for the check I unluckily met to-day

by a glorious victory, I swear I will renounce the flattering name my countrymen have given me. and will hide my shame in some foreign land. The Orpheus of his country must have no rival of his fame." " To-morrow, then," said the burgomaster. " To-morrow !" repeated the rivals, casting on each other looks of proud defiance. " To-morrow !" whispered Mai'na.