how true and fond was the sympathy, which not once since he had confided
in her his happiness, had he regretted that he had sought.

The remaining period of the Marquis of Malvern's sojourn at Oakwood
passed rapidly away without any event of sufficient importance to find a
place in these pages. They left Oakwood at the latter end of January for
St. Eval's beautiful estate in Cornwall, where they intended to remain a
month ere they went to London, about the same time as Mr. Hamilton's
family. That month was a quiet one at Oakwood; all their guests had
departed, and, except occasional visits from Arthur Myrvin and St.
Eval, their solitude was uninterrupted.

St. Eval's estate was situated a few miles inland from the banks of the
Tamar, one of the most beautiful spots bordering that most beautiful
river. He was wont leisurely to sail down the stream to Plymouth, and
thence to Oakwood, declaring the distance was a mere trifle; but
nevertheless it was sufficiently long for Mr. Hamilton sometimes to
marvel at the taste of his noble friend, which led him often twice and
regularly once a week to spend a few hours, never more, at Oakwood, when
he knew they should so soon meet in London. St. Eval did not solve the
mystery, but continued his visits, bringing cheerfulness and pleasure
whenever he appeared, and bidding hope glow unconsciously in each
parent's heart, though had they looked for its foundation, they would
have found nothing in the young Earl's manner to justify its
encouragement.

In March Mr. Hamilton's family once more sought their residence in
Berkeley Square, about a week after the Marquis of Malvern's arrival;
and this season, the feelings of the sisters, relative to the gaieties
in which they were now both to mingle, were more equal. The bright hues
with which Caroline had before regarded them had faded--too soon and too
painfully, indeed.

She had been deceived, and in that word, when applied to a young,
aspiring, trusting mind, what anguish does it not comprise. True, she
deserved her chastisement, not only that she had acted the part of a
deceiver to one who trusted her far more than she had done Lord
Alphingham, but wilfully she had blinded herself to her own feelings,
that she might prove her independence; yet these facts lessened not the
bitterness of feeling which was now often hers. But she did not
relinquish society; the dread of encountering Lord Alphingham was not
strong enough to overcome her sec