ent
into her congratulations, by adding to them with a smile, "It
is strange how disobedient you have ventured to be to the
invisible men of Brandon. I hope you do not reckon on being
punished, as well as threatened, by proxy?"

CHAPTER XVII.

"Too high, too grave, too largo, too deep,
Her love could neither laugh nor sleep,
And thus it tired him: his desire
Was for a less consuming fire.
He wished that she should love him well.
Not wildly; wished her passion's spell
To charm her heart, but leave her fancy free;
To quicken converse, not to quell.
He granted her to sigh, for so could he;
But when she wept, why should it be?
'T was irksome, for it stole away
The joy of his love holiday."

PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE.

During our drive to London, Edward asked Mr. Middleton how
long he intended to remain in town, and where he meant our
marriage to take place.

"Why that must depend on you both," said my uncle. "What do
you say to being married at Elmsley?"

The proposal struck me so painfully, that I looked at Edward
with the anxious wish that he might make some objection to it,
though I could scarcely hope so. As I feared, he only turned
to me, and asked what my wishes were; before I could answer,
however, Mrs. Middleton said, that considering all that was to
be done about getting my trousseau, and making various
preparations for the wedding, she thought it would be better
to remain in London. Edward then added that it would be his
interest to keep us there, as the settlements would often
require his presence in town, but that we might go to Elmsley
to be married, if my uncle wished it. To my inexpressible
relief, Mrs. Middleton again objected; and urged, that as my
uncle and herself would go abroad soon after my marriage, it
was useless to add a journey to Elmsley, and back again, to
the one they would subsequently undertake. I looked at my aunt
with surprise, but she made me a sign not to pursue the
subject any further for the present. I gladly acquiesced; but
the idea of this journey abroad weighed on my spirits, and
made me silent during the rest of our drive.

As we came into London, and arrived in Brook-street, it seemed
to me that months instead of days had elapsed since I had left
it; and when I entered the drawing-room, I sat down on a chair
near the window, and leaning my head on my hand, I tried to
realise to myself all that had occurred during the last
even