CHAPTER XIII.
"Alas! what differs more than man from man?
And whence that difference?—whence but from himself?
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"There is a bondage that is worse to bear
Than his who breathes, by roof, and floor, and wall
Pent in,—a tyrant's solitary thrall:
'Tis his who
must bear
His fetters in his soul."Wordsworth.
A day when the south wind brought with it sunshine and showers—when one half hour down came the glistening rain so quickly, that the sun had not time to hide his face—and the next, the blue sky had its azure deepened by the relief of the broken white clouds; while the garden was flooded with golden light—at the point of every leaf hung a clear bright rain-drop—and the turf shone like an emerald with the moisture. The air was soft and warm, and fraught with that peculiar sweetness which tells that the serynga (our English orange-flower) has expanded, and that the lilacs are in full blossom.
