the cottage, what a scene does she witness!—Douglas bending over a young creature so singularly interesting; Rosilia just recovering from a fainting fit, her locks dishevelled, partly straying and partly infolding her lovely form. With tenderness and compassion she lends her aid in applying restoratives, and Douglas, resigning to her his charge, steps back, a feeling of delicacy prompting him to retire; but, as if affected by some secret talisman, he remained fixed to the spot.
Expressive of the tenderest sympathy, Rosilia's inquiring eyes fell upon his faded countenance; its sudden transition from white to red, indicative of the strong emotions he laboured under, was even unnoticed by her, so deeply absorbed was she in comparing the past to the present circumstances, and realizing in the being before her the frequent vision of her imagination. Her silent eloquence, her steady look, were insupportable to his feelings; and that rapturous gaze he had but for one moment indulged in, was succeeded by a depression, an overwhelming sensation: hope, so long extinct within him, had suddenly awakened, presenting images as blissful as they were fugitive: he trembled, and dreaded again to encounter those melting eyes, which spoke, as he conceived, at once so flattering and so dangerous a language; for, notwithstanding every circumstance had insinuated the powerful interest she felt for him, yet a heart like his, long acquainted with sorrow, no more in thoughtless confidence yields to the
