AND REALITY. BY L.E. Landon AUTHOR OF "THE IMPROVISATRICE,” “THE VENETIAN BRACELET," &c. &c. &c. Thus have I begun ; And 'tis my hope to end successfully. SHAKESPEARE. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1831. ROMANCE AND REALITY. 66 CHAPTER I. "Those first affections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day." Though nothing can bring back the hour, We will grieve not-rather find Strength in what remains behind : Which, having been, must ever be In the soothing thoughts that spring In the faith that looks through death." WORDSWORTH. Of all passions, love is the most engrossing and the most superstitious. How often has a leaf, a star, a breath of wind, been held as an omen! It draws all things into somewhat of relation to itself: it is despotic, and jealous of all authority but its own: it bars the heart against the entrance of other feelings, and deems wandering thoughts its traitors. This empire, and even more than this, did it hold over Emily; yet for a moment its authority was lost, while old feelings and former affections came thronging in its place, as she caught the last red sunshine on the church windows, and saw the old avenue of lime trees, and the shady road, which wound through meadows where the hay was doubly sweet in the cool evening air. Familiar faces looked eagerly at the carriage as it drove rapidly by-it was soon in the avenue. Emily saw her uncle hurry down the steps-in another moment she was in his arms a sense of security and sympathy came over her―tears, long restrained, burst forth; but the luxury of the moment's passionate weeping was interrupted by her aunt's eager and talkative wel come. "We are so glad to see you- thought you were never coming home-tea is readythought you would like tea after your journey-but have something of supper, too—you must want something more substantial than tea." It is curious how inseparable eating and kindness are with some people. Mr. Arundel stopped a moment in the hall to look after the carriage, and Emily followed her aunt into the room. "Don't you think him altered, my dear?"— Emily looked quite unconscious of her meaning" your poor, dear uncle sadly broken; but he would not let you be sent for. I have had all the nursing; but he was resolved you should enjoy yourself. You will find us very dull after London." Emily sprang out of the room - her uncle stood in the hall -the light of the open door fell full upon him. Pale, emaciated, speaking with evident difficulty, he looked, to use that common but expressive phrase, the picture of death. Her very first thought was, "I must not let him see how shocked I am." With one strong effort, she rejoined her aunt even Mrs. Arundel was startled by her paleness. Come, come, child," said she, forcing her to drink a glass of wine, "I can't have you to nurse too. I dare say your uncle will soon be better: he has missed you so I couldn't go walking and reading about with him as you used to do. He will get into good humour now. I think he fancies a great deal of his illness; but you see he has been moped. Not |