it natural that in order to justify certain coquetries to her
affianced, she should make use of insulting expressions with regard to
young Byron? But, on the other hand, would it not have been very
natural for him, having heard them, to feel a little rancor against her?
Surely she was guilty if she had spoken in jest, and more guilty still
if she were in earnest.

And yet what was his conduct? In his poem called the "Dream," where he
sings this romance of his boyhood, he tells us how he quitted Annesley,
after having learned that Miss Chaworth was engaged to Mr. Musters:--

"He rose, and with a cold and gentle grasp
He took her hand; a moment o'er his face
A tablet of unutterable thoughts
Was traced, and then it faded, as it came;
He dropped the hand he held, and with slow steps
Retired, but not as bidding her adieu,
For they did part with mutual smiles; he pass'd
From out the massy gate of that old hall,
And mounting on his steed he went his way;
And ne'er repass'd that hoary threshold more."

Then he jumped upon his horse, intending to gallop over the distance
separating Annesley from Newstead. But when he arrived at the last hill
overlooking Annesley, he stopped his horse, and cast a glance of mingled
sorrow and tenderness at what he left behind,--the groves, the old
house, the lovely one inhabiting there. But then the thought that she
could never be his dispelled his reverie, and putting spurs to his horse
he set off anew, as if rapid motion could drown reflection. However,
instead of the reflections he could not succeed in drowning, _he cast
away all rancor_.

When he alludes to her in his early poems it is always with tenderness
and respect.[91] He contents himself with calling her once, _deceitful
girl_, and another time, _a false fair face_.

After an interval of some years, when the boy had become a fine young
man, before setting out for the East, he accepted the proffered
hospitality of Annesley.

He never ceased to welcome Musters at Newstead, and, lest he should
disturb the peace of Mrs. Musters, he had even concealed his agitation
on kissing his rival's child. Heretofore she had only seen the boy or
youth, now she beheld the young man whose genius and personal
attractions lent to each other light and charm.

It was about this time that the bright star of Annesley began to pale.
On her brow, formerly so gay, a veil of sadness was overspread. It
seemed as if the gardens had los