f the lady of my heart. At
night I could see her shadow on the walls of her apartment; by day I viewed
her in her flower-garden, or riding in the park with her usual companions.
Methought the charm would be broken if I were seen, but I heard the music
of her voice and was happy. I gave to each heroine of whom I read, her
beauty and matchless excellences--such was Antigone, when she guided the
blind Oedipus to the grove of the Eumenides, and discharged the funeral
rites of Polynices; such was Miranda in the unvisited cave of Prospero;
such Haidee, on the sands of the Ionian island. I was mad with excess of
passionate devotion; but pride, tameless as fire, invested my nature, and
prevented me from betraying myself by word or look.

In the mean time, while I thus pampered myself with rich mental repasts, a
peasant would have disdained my scanty fare, which I sometimes robbed from
the squirrels of the forest. I was, I own, often tempted to recur to the
lawless feats of my boy-hood, and knock down the almost tame pheasants that
perched upon the trees, and bent their bright eyes on me. But they were the
property of Adrian, the nurslings of Idris; and so, although my imagination
rendered sensual by privation, made me think that they would better become
the spit in my kitchen, than the green leaves of the forest,

Nathelesse,
I checked my haughty will, and did not eat;

but supped upon sentiment, and dreamt vainly of "such morsels sweet," as
I might not waking attain.

But, at this period, the whole scheme of my existence was about to change.
The orphan and neglected son of Verney, was on the eve of being linked to
the mechanism of society by a golden chain, and to enter into all the
duties and affections of life. Miracles were to be wrought in my favour,
the machine of social life pushed with vast effort backward. Attend, O
reader! while I narrate this tale of wonders!

One day as Adrian and Idris were riding through the forest, with their
mother and accustomed companions, Idris, drawing her brother aside from the
rest of the cavalcade, suddenly asked him, "What had become of his friend,
Lionel Verney?"

"Even from this spot," replied Adrian, pointing to my sister's cottage,
"you can see his dwelling."

"Indeed!" said Idris, "and why, if he be so near, does he not come to see
us, and make one of our society?"

"I often visit him," replied Adrian; "but you may easily guess the motives,
which prevent him from com