volved, and settled back upon her features.
The wasting away of the flesh is less apparent in the face; and one
might imagine that, in this sweet marble countenance, was seen the very
same upon which, eleven years ago, her mother's darkening eyes had
lingered to the last, until clouds had swallowed up the vision of her
beloved _twins_. Yet, if that were in part a fancy, this at least is no
fancy--that not only much of a child-like truth and simplicity has
reinstated itself in the temple of her now reposing features, but also
that tranquillity and perfect peace, such as are appropriate to
eternity; but which from the _living_ countenance had taken their flight
for ever, on that memorable evening when we looked in upon the
impassioned group--upon the towering and denouncing aunt, the
sympathizing but silent cousin, the poor blighted niece, and the wicked
letter lying in fragments at their feet.

Cloud, that hast revealed to us this young creature and her blighted
hopes, close up again. And now, a few years later, not more than four or
five, give back to us the latest arrears of the changes which thou
concealest within thy draperies. Once more, "open sesame!" and show us a
third generation. Behold a lawn islanded with thickets. How perfect is
the verdure--how rich the blossoming shrubberies that screen with
verdurous walls from the possibility of intrusion, whilst by their own
wandering line of distribution they shape and umbrageously embay, what
one might call lawny saloons and vestibules--sylvan galleries and
closets. Some of these recesses, which unlink themselves as fluently as
snakes, and unexpectedly as the shyest nooks, watery cells, and crypts,
amongst the shores of a forest-lake, being formed by the mere caprices
and ramblings of the luxuriant shrubs, are so small and so quiet, that
one might fancy them meant for _boudoirs_. Here is one that, in a less
fickle climate, would make the loveliest of studies for a writer of
breathings from some solitary heart, or of _suspiria_ from some
impassioned memory! And opening from one angle of this embowered study,
issues a little narrow corridor, that, after almost wheeling back upon
itself, in its playful mazes, finally widens into a little circular
chamber; out of which there is no exit, (except back again by the
entrance,) small or great; so that, adjacent to his study, the writer
would command how sweet a bed-room, permitting him to lie the summer
through, gazing all nigh