is
right so to turn them, since their docility shews, that neither the motive
nor the end were of sufficient force to bear them through the obstacles
attendant on their undertaking. If, on the contrary, they are proof against
expostulation, this very steadiness is an omen of success; and it becomes
the duty of those who love them, to assist in smoothing the obstructions in
their path. Such sentiments actuated our little circle. Finding Perdita
immoveable, we consulted as to the best means of furthering her purpose.
She could not go alone to a country where she had no friends, where she
might arrive only to hear the dreadful news, which must overwhelm her with
grief and remorse. Adrian, whose health had always been weak, now suffered
considerable aggravation of suffering from the effects of his wound. Idris
could not endure to leave him in this state; nor was it right either to
quit or take with us a young family for a journey of this description. I
resolved at length to accompany Perdita. The separation from my Idris was
painful--but necessity reconciled us to it in some degree: necessity and
the hope of saving Raymond, and restoring him again to happiness and
Perdita. No delay was to ensue. Two days after we came to our
determination, we set out for Portsmouth, and embarked. The season was May,
the weather stormless; we were promised a prosperous voyage. Cherishing the
most fervent hopes, embarked on the waste ocean, we saw with delight the
receding shore of Britain, and on the wings of desire outspeeded our well
filled sails towards the South. The light curling waves bore us onward, and
old ocean smiled at the freight of love and hope committed to his charge;
it stroked gently its tempestuous plains, and the path was smoothed for us.
Day and night the wind right aft, gave steady impulse to our keel--nor
did rough gale, or treacherous sand, or destructive rock interpose an
obstacle between my sister and the land which was to restore her to her
first beloved,

Her dear heart's confessor--a heart within that heart.

VOL. II.

CHAPTER I.

DURING this voyage, when on calm evenings we conversed on deck, watching
the glancing of the waves and the changeful appearances of the sky, I
discovered the total revolution that the disasters of Raymond had wrought
in the mind of my sister. Were they the same waters of love, which, lately
cold and cutting as ice, repelling as that, now loosened from their frozen
cha