ves. There is not a single thought
which has its affixed limits. Like circles in the water, our researches
weaken as they extend, and vanish at last into the immeasurable and
unfathomable space of the vast unknown. We are like children in the
dark; we tremble in a shadowy and terrible void, peopled with our
fancies! Life is our real night, and the first gleam of the morning,
which brings us certainty, is death.

Falkland sat the remainder of that night by the window watching the
clouds become gray as the dawn rose, and its earliest breeze awoke. He
heard the trampling of the horses beneath: he drew his cloak round him,
and descended. It was on a turning of the road beyond the lodge that
he directed the carriage to wait, and he then proceeded to the place
appointed. Emily was not yet there. He walked to and fro with an
agitated and hurried step. The impression of the night had in a great
measure been effaced from his mind, and he gave himself up without
reserve to the warm and sanguine hopes which he had so much reason to
conceive. He thought too, at moments, of those bright climates beneath
which he designed their asylum, where the very air is music, and the
light is like the colourings of love; and he associated the sighs of a
mutual rapture with the fragrance of myrtles, and the breath of a Tuscan
heaven. Time glided on. The hour was long past, yet Emily came not!
The sun rose, and Falkland turned in dark and angry discontent from its
beams. With every moment his impatience increased, and at last he could
restrain himself no longer. He proceeded towards the house. He stood for
some time at a distance; but as all seemed still hushed in repose, he
drew nearer and nearer till he reached the door: to his astonishment
it was open. He saw forms passing rapidly through the hall. He heard a
confused and indistinct murmur. At length he caught a glimpse of Mrs.
St. John. He could command himself no more. He sprang forwards--entered
the door--the hall--and caught her by a part of her dress. He could not
speak, but his countenance said all which his lips refused. Mrs. St.
John burst into tears when she saw him. "Good God!" she said, "why are
you here? Is it possible you have yet learned--" Her voice failed her.
Falkland had by this time recovered himself. He turned to the servants
who gathered around him. "Speak," he said calmly. "What has occurred?"
"My lady--my lady!" burst at once from several tongues. "What of her:"
said Falk