3

it not? I am sure it makes me quite melamcolly when I think of him; and I can't help thinking of him, and pitying him very much too, for they tell me he is as handsome as the days are long; and though the proverb says, " Beauty is but skin-deep, you know, my Lady, we can see no more of any body than his skin, and I must say, I like better to look at one that is handsome, than at one that is ugly; and I hope there is no sin in saying so."

"Not if you would be equally compassionate to both in the hour of their distress," returned Eleonora. "The sense of preference is given to us, that we may be enabled by comparison to draw pleasure from the contemplation of particular objects, which the majority have not the power of inspiring us with; and there is no harm in the enjoyment of this distinction, if confined to the privacy of our own breast, and we shew ourselves as ready to relieve the wants and exigencies of those who are so unfortunate as to possess any points

D 5

points or qualities which we do not approve, as of those who are in our sight and opinion perfect; without this command over ourselves, a power which is given us for the purpose of imparting an innocent satisfaction to our minds, becomes an unpardonable fault."

Gillian was always well pleased to receive instruction, though her mind was not always equal to the practice of those precepts which were given to her. "It is sometimes very hard to feel exactly as one ought to feel, my Lady, to be quite good and worthy," she said, with a sigh.

"The more meritorious our virtue," returned Eleonora, "when by strictly adhering to that which is right and commendable, we conquer any enticing sensation which would seduce us to an opposite conduct."

After a pause, which Eleonora purposely made, in order that the admonition which she had given to Gillian might have time to sink into her mind, before it was occupied

occupied by any other impressions, she said," Have you understood how long Sir Sigismund's unfortunate son has been afflicted with this calamity, and to what cause it is attributed?"

"Joel told me, my Lady," replied Gillian, "that his inanity came on after a fever; they never could account for it any other way; I think he said, that it was when Sir Valentine was about sixteen, now almost five years ago."

"And to whom is the care of this pitiable being entrusted ?" asked Eleonora.

"To a person who has for a long while

been a confidential servant of Sir Sigismund's," replied Gillian; "he was in his service before either Sir Hildebrand or Sir Valentine was born; by my troth, I believe even before he married his present lady; and the strangest looking man he is that you ever set your eyes upon; so tall,

so pale, so thin, O Lord! he is just for

all the world like a walking skeleton."

A summons

A summons for Eleonora to breakfast with Lady Blunt, broke off her conversation with Gillian; and when the repast was ended, she entered the garden, and could not forbear placing herself on a seat, from which she could command a view of the window in the turret, which gave light to the apartment communicating with the chamber which she had learned that the unfortunate Valentine inhabited.

While she sat with her eyes fixed on the walls which enclosed him, to whose history and connexions her wandering thoughts were roving, Sir Sigismund approached

her; on seeing him she withdrew her regards hastily from the turret-he stopped opposite to her, and fixed his upon it—as he did so, he heaved a deep sigh-Eleonora answered it by one drawn from the deepest recesses of her heart. He turned his eyes towards her; they beamed with an expression which appeared to applaud the sympathy which she had in that sigh mani

fested

fested that her feelings bore to his own. She perceived him preparing to speak, and did not doubt that his words would be of the unfortunate Valentine; but in a voice of melancholy he asked, whether she would accompany him to the cottage which she had visited with him two days before?

Eleonora immediately accepted his invitation. "Perhaps in our walk," she conjectured," he will mention his unhappy son." But her expectations were deceived; he spoke not of Valentine, nor scarcely at all. When they had reached the woodcutter's cottage, for such was the poor man to whom Sir Sigismund paid his charitable visits, they learnt from his wife that he was gone to his regular employment in a copse hard by.

66

Why did he venture from home so soon?" said Sir Sigismund; "he knew that I would not have suffered him or his family to want, whilst he was unable to work for their support."

With many thanks and blessings the wife replied,―