om those of Jobson; but as
his thoughts never could pursue any other subject when the magic name of
Isabel spell-bound them to the secret chamber, where filial piety tended
its uncomplaining captive, we will follow their course, and return to
the Beaumont family.

The pious Isabel with unwearied magnanimity persevered in the duties
which her painful situation required. Her nights were uniformly spent in
the chamber where her father was concealed, and her days were divided
between him and the sad Constantia, who, ever pining for her Eustace,
seemed to have no wish but to share his grave. Isabel tried to divert
her thoughts to the consoling reflection that his honour was restored,
his reputation cleared from the foul charge of treason and the
accusations of Monthault; his name inscribed on the roll of England's
loyal worthies, and the consecrating seal of death fixed on his memory.
Dr. Beaumont endeavoured to make her wishes aspire to that happier world
where she would rejoin him. He talked of the "order, nature, number, and
obedience of angels[1];" and of her dear Eustace as now joined to their
blessed society. He told her, that her lover and herself were still
members of the same family, she suffering, he glorified. He pointed out
to her those texts of Scripture which imply recognition in Heaven, and
in particular mentioned the hope expressed by St. Paul, of presenting
his Colossian converts to his Lord, and the Apostles sitting on thrones
to judge the tribes of Israel, who therefore must be respectively known
as disciples and countrymen. Sometimes he would try to excite emulation,
by pointing out the conduct of Isabel, who endured a similar affliction
in the destruction of her fondest hopes, but whose spirits were
supported by constant bodily exertion, while her mental faculties were
no less exercised by fresh contrivances, at once to amuse her father,
and to add to the security of his retreat. These efforts, he said, gave
such an energy to her mind, that she was able to give instead of
requiring consolation. Dr. Beaumont attempted to revive his daughter's
taste for the beauties of nature; shewed her the rich variety of
mountains, dales, woods, lakes, and rivers, which embellished the
vicinity of her native village, and especially that most exhilarating of
terrestrial objects, the sun rising to enlighten a world which bursts at
his approach into splendid beauty.

Constantia listened, reproved her own weakness, and wep