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THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTERS.
I'nı lost in ecstacy.
I am so blest, I fear 'ris a dream!
It was the close of a tedious day of rain, which had drenched the landscape; when the sun suddenly shone out with the brief and rejoicing splendour that sometimes just precedes his setting; and the clouds, the range of hills, and the forest that swept along its sides, were lighted up with glorious beauty; Catherine's eyes were fixed on the southern heaven then glowing with rose and purple, and she thought of Spain.
But her contemplations were but little allied to joy. The state of the war almost precluded letters; while reports of battles, attended with dreadful suffering on both sides, kept up the most anxious and painful interest. 'Some weeks had now passed away since the last despatch from Spain; and the partial intelligence by the public papers that Vaughan's regiment had been engaged, had been successful, and had purchased ils success with beavy loss, had sunk her spirits into the lowest dejection. Her former graceful pursuits had now lost all their indulgence. She tried her pencil, and covered her paper with forms and colours, but they wore no loveliness to her eye; she sat to her harp, but some melody that she had played in Vaughan's presence touched her memory too deep for pleasure, and she turned away in sudden tears.
She felt how deeply and constantly the human heart is tried in this world of uncertainty, and how large a stock of human unhappiness is left in the hands of chance, even after we seem to have guarded against all its fluctuations. She was now free from the pain of submission to Mrs. Courtney's arrogance, and was under a roof of fondness and friendship; she was now secured from dependence, for she was the adopted daughter of her friend; her doubts of Vaughan's regard were converted into the honourable assurance of his heart: still she was unhappy,