Dalton, who, having just lost her husband, was forbidden at present to partake of its amusements, had agreed to accompany her to her retreat. Neither of them was perhaps much suited to Emily's temper, but youth and spirits make almost any one congenial to us: it is from the years which confirm our habits, and the reflections which refine our taste, that it becomes easy to revolt us, and difficult to please. On the third day after Emily's arrival at E-, she was sitting after breakfast with Lady Margaret and Mrs. Dalton. 66 Pray," said the former, "did you ever meet my relation, Mr. Falkland? he is in your immediate neighbourhood.” "Never; though I have a great curiosity that fine old ruin beyond the village belongs to him, I believe." "It does: you ought to know him: you would like him so!" "Like him?" repeated Mrs. Dalton, who was one of those persons of ton who, though every thing collectively, are nothing individually ;-"Like him? impossible!" "Why," said Lady Margaret, indignantly, "he has every requisite to please-youth, talent, fascination of manner, and great knowledge of the world." "Well," said Mrs. Dalton, "I cannot say I discovered his perfections. He seemed to me conceited and satirical, and-and-in short, very disagreeable; but then to be sure, I have only seen him once. "I have heard many accounts of him," said Emily, "all differing from each other: I think, however, that the generality of people rather incline to Mrs. Dalton's opinion than to yours, Lady Margaret." "I can easily believe it. It is very seldom that he takes the trouble to please; but when he does, he is irresistible. Very little, however, is generally known respecting him. Since he came of age, he has been much abroad; and when in England, he never entered with eagerness into society. He is supposed to possess very extraordinary powers, which, added to his large fortune and ancient name, have procured him a consideration and rank rarely enjoyed by one so young. He has refused repeated offers to enter into public life; but he is very intimate with one of the ministers, who, it is said, has had the address to profit much by his abilities. All other particulars concerning him are extremely uncertain. Of his person and manners you had better judge yourself; for I am sure, Emily, that my petition for inviting him here is already granted." "By all means," said Emily: 'you cannot be more anxious to see him than I am." And 66 so the conversation dropped. Lady Margaret went to the library; Mrs. Dalton seated herself on the ottoman, dividing her attention between the last novel and her Italian greyhound; and Emily left the room in order to revisit her former and favourite haunts. Her young son was her companion, and she was not sorry that he was her only one. To be the instructress of an infant, a mother should be its playmate; and Emily was, perhaps, wiser ⚫ than she imagined, when she ran with a laughing eye and a light foot over the grass, occupying herself almost with the same earnestness as her child in the same infantine amusements. As they passed the wood which led to the lake at the bottom of the grounds, the boy, who was before Emily, suddenly stopped. She came hastily up to him; and scarcely two paces before, though half hid by the steep bank of the lake beneath which he reclined, she saw a man apparently asleep. A volume of Shakspeare lay beside him: the child had seized it. As she took it from him in order to replace it, her eye rested upon the passage the boy had accidentally opened. How often in after-days was that passage recalled as an omen! it was the following: Ah me! for aught that ever I could read, The course of true love never did run smooth? As she laid the book gently down, she caught a glimpse of the countenance of the sleeper: never did she forget the expression which it wore,-stern, proud, mournful even in repose! She did not wait for him to awake. She hurried home through the trees. All that day she was silent and abstracted; the face haunted her like a dream. Strange as it may seem, she spoke neither to Lady Margaret nor to Mrs. Dalton of her adventure. Why? Is there in our hearts any prescience of their misfortunes? On the next day, Falkland, who had received and accepted Lady Margaret's invitation, was expected to dinner. Emily felt a strong yet excusable curiosity to see one of whom she had heard so many and such contradictory reports. She was alone in the saloon when he entered. At the first glance she recognised the person she had met by the lake on the day before, and she blushed deeply as site replied to his salutation. To her great relief Lady Margaret and Mrs. Dalton entered in a few minutes, and the conversation grew general. Falkland had but little of what is called animation in manner; but his wit, though it rarely led to mirth, was sarcastic yet refined, and the vividness of his imagination threw a brilliancy and originality over remarks which in others might have been commonplace and tame. The conversation turned chiefly upon society and though Lady Margaret had told her he had entered but lit tle into its ordinary routine, Emily was struck alike by his accurate acquaintance with men, and the justice of his reflections opon manners. There also mingled with his satire an occasional melancholy of feeling, which appeared to Emily the more touching because it was always unex pected and unassumed. It was after one of these remarks, that for the first time she ventured to examine in the charm and peculiarity of the countenance of the speaker. There was spread over it that expression of mingled energy and languor, which betokens that much, whether of thought, sorrow, passion, or action, has been undergone, but resisted; has wearied, but not subdued. In the broad and noble brow, in the chiselled lip, and the melancholy depths of the calm and thoughtful eye, there sat a resolution and a power, which, though mournful, were not without their pride; which, if they had borne the worst, had also defied it. Notwithstanding his mother's country, his complexion was fair and pale; and his hair, of a light chestnut, fell in large antique curls over his forehead. That forehead indeed, constituted the principal feature of his countenance. It was neither in its height nor expansion alone that its remarkable beauty consisted; but if ever thought to conceive, and courage to execute, high designs were imbodied and visible, they were imprinted there. Falkland did not stay long after dinner; but to Lady Margaret he promised all that she required of future length and frequency in his visits. When he left the room, Lady Emily went instinctively to the window to watch him depart; and all that night his low, soft voice rung in her ear, like the music of an indistinct and half-remembered dream. FROM MR. MANDEVILLE TO LADY EMILY. DEAR EMILY. BUSINESS of great importance to the country has prevented my writing to you before. I hope you have continued well since I heard from you last, and that you do all you can to preserve that retrenchment of unnecessary expenses, and observe that attention to a prudent economy, which is no less incumbent upon individuals than nations. Thinking that you must be dull at E, and ever anxious both to entertain and to improve you, I send you an excellent publication by Mr. Tooke,* together with my own last two speeches, corrected by myself. Trusting to hear from you soon, I am, with best love to Henry, Very affectionately yours, JOHN MANDeville. FROM ERASMUS FALKLAND, ESQ. TO THE HON. FREDERICK MONKTON.† ten WELL, Monkton, I have been to E--; that important event in my monastic life has been concluded. Lady Margaret was as talkative as usual; and a Mrs. Dalton, who, I find, is an acquaintance of yours, asked very derly after your poodle and yourself. But Lady Emily! Ay, Monkton, I know not well how to describe her to you. Her beauty interests not less than it dazzles. There is that deep and eloquent softness in her every word and action, which, of all charms, is the most dangerous. Yet she is rather of a playful than of the melancholy and pensive nature which generally accompanies such gentleness of manner; but there is no levity in her character; nor is that playfulness of spirit ever carried into the exhilaration of what we call "mirth." She seems, if I may use the antithesis, at once too feeling to be gay and too innocent to be sad. I remember having frequently met her husband. Cold and pompous, without any thing to interest the imagination, or engage the affections, I am not able to conceive a person less congenial to his beautiful and romantic wife. But she must have been exceedingly young when she married him; and she, probably, knows *The Political Economist. A letter from Falkland, mentioning Lady Margaret's invitation Has been omitted. not yet that she is to be pitied because she has not yet learned that she can love. Le veggio in fronte amor come in suo seggio Sol d'intorno al suo cuore amor non veggio. I have been twice to her house since my first admission there. I love to listen to that soft and enchanting voice, and to escape from the gloom of my own reflections to the brightness, yet simplicity, of hers. In my earlier days this comfort would have been attended with danger; but we grow callous from the excess of feeling. We cannot re-illumine ashes! I can gaze upon her dream-like beauty, and not experience a single desire which can sully the purity of my worship. I listen to her voice when it melts in endearment over her birds, her flowers, or, in a deeper devotion, over her child; but my heart does not thrill at the tenderness of the sound. 1 touch her hand, and the pulses of my own are as calm as before. Satiety of the past is our best safeguard from the temptations of the future; and the perils of youth are over when it has acquired that dullness and apathy of affection which should belong only to the insensibility of age. Such were Falkland's opinions at the time he wrote. Ah! what is so delusive as our affections? Our security is our danger-our defiance our defeat! Day after day he went to E--. He passed the mornings in making excursions with Emily over that wild and romantic country by which they were surrounded; and in the dangerous but delicious stillness of the summer twilights, they listened to the first whispers of their hearts. In his relationship to Lady Margaret, Falkland found his excuse for the frequency of his visits; and even Mrs. Dalton was so charmed with the fascination of his manner, that (in spite of her previous dislike) she forgot to inquire how far his intimacy at Ewas at variance with the proprieties of the world she worshipped, or in what proportion it was connected with herself. It is needless for me to trace through all its windings the ormation of that affection, the subsequent records of which am about to relate. What is so unearthly, so beautiful, as |