e of unchanging affection, as a bond binding for ever; as, in
fact, what we have called it, the marriage of the spirit: as a thing
never to be done away, which no time could break, no circumstances
dissolve: it was the wedding of--forever. The other, the more
earthly union, might be dear in prospect to her heart, gladdening to
all her hopes, mingled with a thousand bright dreams of human joy,
and tenderness, and sweet domestic peace: but if circumstances had
separated her the next hour from Wilton for ever, she would have felt
that she was still his wife in heart, and ended life with the hope of
meeting him she had ever loved, in heaven. To take such ties upon
herself, then, was in her estimation no light thing; and, as we have
said, the period, the short period, of that night, was sufficient to
effect a great, a total change in all the thoughts and feelings of
her bosom.
The change in Wilton was of a different kind, but it was also very
great. It was an epoch in man's destiny. His mind was naturally
manly, powerful, and decided; but he was very young. The events of
that night, however, swept away everything that was youthful or light
from his character for ever. He had acted with vigour, and power, and
determination, amongst men older, better tried, and more experienced
than himself. He had taken a decided and a prominent part in a scene
of strife, and danger, and difficulty, and he had (to make use of
that most significant though schoolboy phrase) "placed himself." His
character had gone through the ordeal: without any previous
preparation, the iron had been hardened into steel; and if any part
had remained up to that moment soft or weak, the softness was done
away, the weakness no longer existed.

CHAPTER XXX.
If we were poets or fabulists, and could invest inanimate objects
with all the qualities and feelings of animate ones; if, with all the
magic of old AEsop, we could make pots and kettles talk, and endue
barn-door fowls with the spirit of philosophy, we should be tempted
to say that the great gates of Beaufort House, together with the
stone Cupids on the tops of the piers, ay, and the vases of carved
flowers which stood between those Cupids, turned up the nose as the
antiquated, ungilt, dusty, and somewhat tattered vehicle containing
the Lady Laura Gaveston and Wilton Brown rolled up.
The postboy got off his horse; Wilton descended from the vehicle, and
applied his hand eagerly to the bell; and Laura, who had certainly
thought no part of the