To float around each sable form, To read their loss in each fond eye, Then grateful for the bliss thus given, There was a pathos of melancholy in her voice, a melting softness in her dark eye, as she uttered this, which made the heart of Lord Montague thrill with the almost painful ecstacy of unutterable tenderness. "I am not aware," he said gently, "that we are expressly told in Scripture, that we shall be again known to each other, though I think the general tenor of our Lord's conversation strongly implies it." "It has been one great error of the church in all ages," said the Bishop, "to employ its speculation on points that were doubtless left in darkness for the best and wisest purposes. I think with your lordship, that although there is no express declaration on these points, we may plainly infer it. The words of the Redeemer to the dying thief on the cross, the promises to the Apostles, all imply a state of recognition and though, in reply to the Sadducees, he plainly declares that those ties which bind us to each other on earth are unknown in heaven, yet when we consider a state of being, in which the mind is purified and sublimed from earthly feelings, we must rationally conclude that such ties are no longer necessary." It was in such conversation that the day had passed; and Lord Montague retired to rest with that solemn tone of feeling which a death-bed generally excites in an elevated mind. In consequence of an alarming change, he was summoned at midnight to the Bishop's apartment. He was in a state of insensibility, with the hand of the nearly fainting Isadora firmly clasped in his own. Lord Montague flew to her side; he supported--consoled ---revived her. When the Bishop recovered perception, he regarded them alternately. They kneeled together by the side of his couch. The rosy lips of Isadora pressed his forehead. He smiled with benignant composure: "Ah, my lord!" said he, "it is nearly over, and I shall not see Grosvenor: be to him what we have been to each other; be his guide---his friend. "Isadora," he continued, placing the hand he still grasped in that of Lord Montague, "you will, you must be happy!" and again he relapsed into insensibility. "We are thine, Lord, for thou hast made us; forsake not the work of thine hands !” These were the last words he uttered; and without a groan he breathed his spirit into eternity. For many minutes Lord Montague held the trembling hand of Isadora in speechless emotion; until, warned by the marble paleness of her countenance, he bore her from the apartment. Grosvenor arrived in time to witness the interment of the Bishop. Fashion had no power over Isadora to withhold her from paying the last affectionate tribute to his memory, and supported by Lord Montague, she saw all that remained on earth of her venerable friend deposited in the tomb of his fathers. Isadora retired immediately to her seat of Harwell-Castle, and Lord Montague settled for some time at Plymouth. CHAP. XX. Alas! how light a cause may move Hearts that the world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied ; That stood the storm, when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships, that have gone down at sea, When heaven was all tranquillity! MADAM, To Miss Argyle. MOORE. "I Do not apologise for addressing this letter to you; the purport will explain the necessity and importance of it. If, after its perusal, you shall still think an apology requisite, I beg you to give me credit for the most humble one imaginable. of "Lord Montague is selected by Miss Argyle to engross her love-her heart's best af VOL. II. 18 fections! I repeat this continually yet why should I doubt the possibility? Is he not grand, imposing, and specious, as man can be? Is there a heart which he cannot deceivewhich is not willing to trust in him, love him, adore him, to be broken by him? Lord Montague is not a man to be repulsed: who dares doubt the grandeur, the sublimity of his mind? who, in his presence, does not shrink into something inferior to the being he really is? on whom does not his commanding exterior impose? who has not forgotten human fallibility in listening to, and observing him? "Some years have elapsed since I was the favoured object of his lordship's regard. Yes, this wan form, this languid eye, this broken spirit, once possessed beauty, fire, and vivacity to attract a love which I would have died to retain? Oh, who that has once basked in the beams of that love, ever recovered from the chilling misery that succeeded the withdrawing of those beams? It is like the star of Canopus, whose influence prevents the intrusion of care and sorrow on those happy few on whom it shines! Alas, madam! none can justly appreciate the misery of desertion, but those who have felt the delight of reciprocal passion. "Lady of England-happy, happy object of Montague's love, of Montague's wishes-canst thou, thus high in happiness, reject the prayer of the forsaken and miserable! "Madam, my son is the child of Lord Montague! It is for this boy this lovely miniature of his father-this young reflection of his high qualities and transcendant endowments-that I would plead with you! Oh, what can I ask for myself in your power to grant? Can you minister-all angel as you must be to the woes of the heart-broken, the hopeless, and the ruined? Can you relieve the sorrow that rejects consolation, that turns disdainfully from the prospect of alleviation? You may conquer difficulties, but you cannot effect impossibilities you may retain the love of Lord Montague, but you cannot console the heart that has survived his desertion ! "Separated from the object of a first, an only, and, perhaps, a guilty love, I have existed with no other consolation than the recollection of what has been, and the soothing conviction that Lord Montague still remembers me with friendship. Yet,--oh let me not forget my boy-my only hope of future happiness, my dearest comfort, my heart's best supporter! Without him, how could I traverse the desert soil of this earth's wilderness ?-he procures for me those munificent proofs of his still adored father's regard, which, as coming from him, constitute, at once, my existence, and my blessing. For this boy, my too happy rival!-alas, madam, forgive the epithet that equalizes you with me! exalted as you are in rank, in happiness, in virtue, you are yet the possessor of that heart which I have so fruitlessly striven to retain, and, therefore, appear in this light, only, to my tortured view:-forthis boy, then, my too hap |