ds the ground;
When she spoke, you _knew directly_ that the same was in the sound;"

By and by, a young gentleman, of the name of Winton, comes to visit
Lilian and her father:--

"A formerly-loved companion--he was fresh from sprightly France,
And with many volumes laden, essay, poem, and romance."

He, and his pursuits after leaving school, are thus elegantly
described:--

"When free, all healthy study was put by, that he might rush
To his favourite books, French chiefly, that his blood might boil
and gush
Over scenes which set his visage glowing crimson--_not a blush_."

This gentleman and Lilian's lover strike up a strong friendship for one
another, and the latter makes Winton his confidant. As yet no suspicions
arise to break the blind sleep of the infatuated dreamer.

"Delights were still remaining--hate--shame--rage--_I can't tell what_,
Comes to me at their memory; none that, _more or less_, was not
The soul's _unconscious incest_, on creations self-begot."

He still continues to doat on Lilian.

"Oh friend, if you had seen her! heard her speaking, felt her grace,
When serious looks seem'd filling with the smiles which, in a space,
Broke, sweet as Sabbath sunshine, and lit up her _shady_ face.

"Try to conceive her image--does it make your brain reel round?
But all of this is over. Well, friend--various signs (I found
Too late on rumination) then and thenceforth did abound,

"Wherefrom--but that all lovers look too closely to see clear--
I might have gather'd matter fit for just and jealous fear.
From her face, _the nameless something_ now began to disappear.

"What I felt for her I often told her boldly to her face;
_Blushes used to blush at blushes flushing on in glowing chace!_
But latterly she listen'd, bending full of bashful grace.

"It was to hide those blushes, I thought then, _but I suspect
It was to hide their absence_."

How great this writer is on the subject of blushing we shall have
another opportunity of showing.--(See Lady Mabel's shoulders, in the
poem of Sir Hubert.) Meanwhile, the fair deceiver is now undergoing a
course of French novels, under the tuition of young Winton. The
consequence was,

"_Her voice grew louder_"--no great harm in that--

"Her voice grew louder--losing the much meaning it once bore,
_The passion in her carriage_, though it every day grew more,