ntage,
fortune, aspect? Specially, by what Pre-established Harmony of
occurrences did the Lover and the Loved meet one another in so wide a
world; how did they behave in such meeting? To all which questions, not
unessential in a Biographic work, mere Conjecture must for most part
return answer. "It was appointed," says our Philosopher, "that the high
celestial orbit of Blumine should intersect the low sublunary one of our
Forlorn; that he, looking in her empyrean eyes, should fancy the upper
Sphere of Light was come down into this nether sphere of Shadows; and
finding himself mistaken, make noise enough."

We seem to gather that she was young, hazel-eyed, beautiful, and some
one's Cousin; high-born, and of high spirit; but unhappily dependent and
insolvent; living, perhaps, on the not too gracious bounty of moneyed
relatives. But how came "the Wanderer" into her circle? Was it by the
humid vehicle of _AEsthetic Tea_, or by the arid one of mere Business?
Was it on the hand of Herr Towgood; or of the Gnadige Frau, who, as
an ornamental Artist, might sometimes like to promote flirtation,
especially for young cynical Nondescripts? To all appearance, it was
chiefly by Accident, and the grace of Nature.

"Thou fair Waldschloss," writes our Autobiographer, "what stranger ever
saw thee, were it even an absolved Auscultator, officially bearing in
his pocket the last _Relatio ex Actis_ he would ever write, but must
have paused to wonder! Noble Mansion! There stoodest thou, in deep
Mountain Amphitheatre, on umbrageous lawns, in thy serene solitude;
stately, massive, all of granite; glittering in the western sunbeams,
like a palace of El Dorado, overlaid with precious metal. Beautiful rose
up, in wavy curvature, the slope of thy guardian Hills; of the greenest
was their sward, embossed with its dark-brown frets of crag, or spotted
by some spreading solitary Tree and its shadow. To the unconscious
Wayfarer thou wert also as an Ammon's Temple, in the Libyan Waste;
where, for joy and woe, the tablet of his Destiny lay written. Well
might he pause and gaze; in that glance of his were prophecy and
nameless forebodings."

But now let us conjecture that the so presentient Auscultator has handed
in his _Relatio ex Actis_; been invited to a glass of Rhine-wine; and
so, instead of returning dispirited and athirst to his dusty Town-home,
is ushered into the Garden-house, where sit the choicest party of dames
and cavaliers: if not engaged i