ed, that
Idris and Perdita would ramble away together, and we remained to discuss
the affairs of nations, and the philosophy of life. The very difference of
our dispositions gave zest to these conversations. Adrian had the
superiority in learning and eloquence; but Raymond possessed a quick
penetration, and a practical knowledge of life, which usually displayed
itself in opposition to Adrian, and thus kept up the ball of discussion. At
other times we made excursions of many days' duration, and crossed the
country to visit any spot noted for beauty or historical association.
Sometimes we went up to London, and entered into the amusements of the busy
throng; sometimes our retreat was invaded by visitors from among them. This
change made us only the more sensible to the delights of the intimate
intercourse of our own circle, the tranquillity of our divine forest, and
our happy evenings in the halls of our beloved Castle.

The disposition of Idris was peculiarly frank, soft, and affectionate. Her
temper was unalterably sweet; and although firm and resolute on any point
that touched her heart, she was yielding to those she loved. The nature of
Perdita was less perfect; but tenderness and happiness improved her temper,
and softened her natural reserve. Her understanding was clear and
comprehensive, her imagination vivid; she was sincere, generous, and
reasonable. Adrian, the matchless brother of my soul, the sensitive and
excellent Adrian, loving all, and beloved by all, yet seemed destined not
to find the half of himself, which was to complete his happiness. He often
left us, and wandered by himself in the woods, or sailed in his little
skiff, his books his only companions. He was often the gayest of our party,
at the same time that he was the only one visited by fits of despondency;
his slender frame seemed overcharged with the weight of life, and his soul
appeared rather to inhabit his body than unite with it. I was hardly more
devoted to my Idris than to her brother, and she loved him as her teacher,
her friend, the benefactor who had secured to her the fulfilment of her
dearest wishes. Raymond, the ambitious, restless Raymond, reposed midway on
the great high-road of life, and was content to give up all his schemes of
sovereignty and fame, to make one of us, the flowers of the field. His
kingdom was the heart of Perdita, his subjects her thoughts; by her he was
loved, respected as a superior being, obeyed, waited on. No of