he does himself; he does not like to have the chain of his reflections disturbed." “The chain of his reflections,” returned Amy, "may be very well to talk of, but I consider him so little of a philosopher, that I am convinced he is now tired of the backwoods life, and will in some time gladly return to the world,—I mean, to the society and objects of civilised life. I should grieve sorely at losing such a charming companion as Mrs Mortimer, yet I must rejoice for her sake when she is restored to her own position. Perhaps we may yet meet again in our own country!” "Oh, my dear Amy, how happily you always look to the bright side! Hope never forsakes you in joy or sorrow; your cheerful mind always discerns something to lessen the gloom." “The hope which supports us both, my dear," said Mrs Grey, pressing the hand she held, "is the effect of our experience. We remember the consolation which Providence has often bestowed on us in the midst of apparent ill; and we may judge the future by the past, and feel hope of good to come, contented with the conviction, that whatever happens, it will be blessed to us.” 66 Yes, Amy, surely I may say to you— "Thy mien composed, thy even pace, And content will, I hope, be our companion still, whatever befall us. Though seldom found, the poet says, we have found, and will endeavour to preserve, the blessing." The large packet of letters, of various dates, brought from Hickory for the Mortimers, was a delightful yet agitating sight to poor Constance. She had been so long without any intelligence of her friends, that the dread of misfortune made her shudder as she hastily opened each letter; and before one was finished she opened another and another, determined to know the worst, yet feeling a horrible dread of seeing the confirmation of her fears; and continually observing with watchful anxiety the countenance of her husband while reading his. It happened, however, on this occasion, that notwithstanding so many months had elapsed without intelligence from home, both Mortimer and Constance had the joyful satisfaction of finding that all their dearest friends were well; all the contents of their letters were gratifying, and they read with heartfelt gratitude the accounts contained in the latest, which was from Mr de Romelie, of the health of all their dear parents. A succession of letters from Mrs Mortimer announced first the happy commencement of an attachment on Albert Neville's part to Camilla-its progress-the proposal-acceptance-arrangements-and the pleasure all parties felt at this well-assorted union. A letter from Camilla, characteristic of herself, touching, simple, and full of happiness, dated from Clarens Court, informed her friends that in the middle of October she had been united to Albert, whose character appeared each day more excellent, while she feared that of her he had yet to learn the many imperfections which she was conscious rendered her undeserving of him. One of her first visits, after her marriage, was along with her mother to the De Romelies, whom she loved as parents. While at Clarens Court, Albert and Camilla visited together the favourite walks of Constance, her garden, her woodbine seat under an ancient spreading oak-tree, her school, her pensioners whose poverty she had cheered by her bounty, and the cottages where improved neatness and industry still shewed the influence of her instructions. All that Constance had established at Clarens Court, her parents fondly preserved in perfect order. All was viewed and discussed with mutual interest and tenderness by Albert and Camilla. Generous, confiding, and open, she felt no petty jealousy of Albert's former attachment. The conviction of his present affection for her was unclouded by painful recollections, and, loving Constance so much herself, she sympathised with singleness of heart in all Albert's feelings, thus unconsciously strengthening his affection for herself. An extract from Mrs Mortimer's latest letter, will be the most satisfactory method of imparting to the reader the intelligence it conveyed : "Your good father and mother," she writes, "shew a most touching, I may say generous, interest in our happiness. I could pardon them if they hated a name which has deprived them of the presence of their daughter; but my magnanimity is not thus called forth. They have not closed their hearts to sympathy with the fortunate, and they bear their own loss with submission, while they meekly say, 'They are conscious that they prized too much the blessings of this world-even that best of blessings, a good daughter'—that their trial has been useful, though severe and that your example, my excellent Constance, has had a beneficial influence on their hearts. Surely it must, in time, have the same happy effect on all connected with you! I pray for a blessing on that example. "Possibly you have heard from Miss Talbot. I cannot however deny myself the gratification of telling you that she expresses pleasure at having gained my Camilla for a niece, and her conviction that Albert will be happy. Her own health has improved, and Lord Birmanton says she looks younger than she did ten years ago. She has been truly kind in visiting and consoling your father and mother, supporting them by her cheerfulness, and by her exalted views of the events of this fleeting life. “I must not close my letter without some mention of the young lady for whom you were interested-Miss Norman. In regard to her, I am aware, my dear daughter, of your silent forbearance—of the greatness of your conduct. But I will not touch on that now. I mentioned in a former letter, that, to my unprejudiced eye, she appeared a very captivating creature, gifted with talents and superior intellectual powers; but too conscious of her charms, and too fond of the admiration they excite. I flatter myself, however, that I have improved her, and I think that in a few years she may become a sensible and superior person. She has made several half conquests, but either her own imprudent vanity, or her mother's mismanagement, have prevented their coming to a fortunate termination. A few more years' experience of the uncertainty of such success may have a very advantageous effect on her mind and heart. She has frequently been with me, and the circumstances which have occurred under my own eye, have supplied me with favourable opportunities of telling her, as I feel it the duty of a friend, my undisguised opinion. Among her admirers was a gentleman who I thought would have proposed for her, but he withdrew, when by some chance-discovery he found that an attachment had for some years existed between her and a college friend of his, whose sufferings, in consequence of her change towards him, he knew to have been severe. This poor, nearly broken-hearted lover is wandering in despair in distant climes. But I feel a certainty that if he return in a few years, when mistaken sentiment has given place to sober sense, her heart will awaken to her early affection, and she may become an attached wife. She will know then how unavailing the love of conquest-how poor the triumph enjoyed. Lady Norman has, I regret to say, determined to go to the Continent early in spring, and I dread the effect on Julia of such a residence." This extract, lengthy as it is, was in fact but a small portion of the feast of letters the Mortimers received-in which Ferdinand's vivid interest shewed he had not closed his heart to the home and the country of his fathers— awakening a secret hope in the heart of Constance that those affections, evidently undiminished, would, in some time, restore him to that dear and favoured country, whose merits far surpass its disadvantages. Upon reading the above letter, Mortimer immediately determined to make every effort within his power to promote the union of Julia and Sydenham. He wrote to influential friends at home an urgent request to procure an appointment which he thought might be suitable to Sydenham's disposition, and might make him sufficiently independent to be accepted by Lady Norman for her daughter. The hope of success in this important object cheered him, and he indulged himself in the reasonable expectation that Sydenham would at last listen to him, and find happiness in doing so. CHAPTER XVII. Blue-bird! on yon leafless tree, THE wished-for sleigh, with a good horse, and all the customary trappings, were procured, and sent to Mortimer by his new acquaintances, with a promptness which suited even his energetic disposition. During the long-continued frost it was a source of much enjoyment in the exercise it supplied, and in the variety of thought and observation derived from their many pleasant excursions, when accompanied by the Greys. In their sleigh, they saw an extent of forest scenery of which they could not have formed an idea in the confinement of their clearing. Mortimer's health being re-established, his spirits and his mind recovered their tone. Amy Grey had never seen him so agreeable and unconstrained; and while she felt with Constance the happiness of such a change in him, she foresaw that his departure from the stillness of the woods must be the consequence. The weather appeared settled, and, in the expectation of a long-continued frost, Mortimer began to plan a very distant excursion, and waited to set out only for the return of Mr Grey, who had been absent for some days on business. Fortunately for him he had delayed, for a sudden change took place the day Mr Grey was to come home, which might have been fatal to one ignorant of the country, and from which Mr Grey had a narrow and providential escape. Having desired that |