n him an air of venerable dignity and pride, which
I have seldom seen equalled elsewhere. I rose as he entered, and
met him about the middle of the room; he kissed my cheek and both my
hands, saying--

"You are most welcome, dear child, as welcome as the command of this
poor place and all that it contains can make you. I am rejoiced to see
you--truly rejoiced. I trust that you are not much fatigued; pray be
seated again." He led me to my chair, and continued, "I am glad to
perceive you have made acquaintance with Emily already; I see, in your
being thus brought together, the foundation of a lasting friendship.
You are both innocent, and both young. God bless you--God bless you,
and make you all that I could wish."

He raised his eyes, and remained for a few moments silent, as if
in secret prayer. I felt that it was impossible that this man, with
feelings manifestly so tender, could be the wretch that public opinion
had represented him to be. I was more than ever convinced of his
innocence. His manners were, or appeared to me, most fascinating.
I know not how the lights of experience might have altered this
estimate. But I was then very young, and I beheld in him a perfect
mingling of the courtesy of polished life with the gentlest and
most genial virtues of the heart. A feeling of affection and respect
towards him began to spring up within me, the more earnest that I
remembered how sorely he had suffered in fortune and how cruelly in
fame. My uncle having given me fully to understand that I was most
welcome, and might command whatever was his own, pressed me to take
some supper; and on my refusing, he observed that, before bidding me
good night, he had one duty further to perform, one in which he was
convinced I would cheerfully acquiesce. He then proceeded to read a
chapter from the Bible; after which he took his leave with the same
affectionate kindness with which he had greeted me, having repeated
his desire that I should consider every thing in his house as
altogether at my disposal. It is needless to say how much I was
pleased with my uncle--it was impossible to avoid being so; and I
could not help saying to myself, if such a man as this is not safe
from the assaults of slander, who is? I felt much happier than I
had done since my father's death, and enjoyed that night the first
refreshing sleep which had visited me since that calamity. My
curiosity respecting my male cousin did not long remain unsatisfied;
he a