hich bring
Back on the heart the weight which it would fling
Aside for ever.

LORD BYRON.

On inquiry, I found that my aunt was out, and as I was not
acquainted with a single person staying in the house, I begged
to be shown at once to my room, instead of going into the
library, where I was told some of the company were to be
found. The housekeeper led the way up-stairs, and having
established me in a large and very comfortable room, left me
to myself. I sat down in an arm-chair, and except the
occupation, if it can be so called, of watching my maid, while
she unpacked the different parts of my evening dress, I spent
the next hour in complete idleness.

At the end of that time, the rolling of wheels and the clatter
of horses' feet drew me to the window. I was pleased to have
an opportunity of inspecting some part of the society which I
was so soon to be introduced to. First, there stopped at the
hall door a pony-chaise, from which Mrs. Brandon and another
woman got out; behind them sat an elderly man, tall and dark,
not Mr. Brandon, though (as far as I recollected) like him:
behind them came galloping up to the steps a riding party, two
women and three or four men; among them was Henry Lovell, who
was certainly about the last person I should have expected to
meet. He looked in high spirits, and I heard him calling out
to somebody in the house, "Is she come?" and two or three
minutes afterwards, Mrs. Brandon and he came into my room
together.

She kissed me most affectionately, and keeping both my hands
in hers, and diminishing at the same time her beautiful eyes
into the sharpest, but most _caressante_ expression (I know no
English word which expresses the look I mean), she fixed them
on mine and said, "I am so much obliged to you, Henry, and to
you for coming, dearest Ellen; but I ought to thank him first,
for he taught me to wish to know you, and to love you. It is
not a hard lesson,"--she added, in the sweetest tone of voice
imaginable. I tried to smile and look pleased, but I was out
of sorts, though I could hardly tell exactly why. If I had
heard at Elmsley that I was to have met Henry at Brandon, I
should have probably been glad, but somehow my short journey
had put me into a different state of mind. I had been more
free from painful thoughts, immediately connected with myself
at least, than at any time for a good while past; I had felt
an unconscious relief in seeing new faces, and hearing new