Elective Affinities
CHAPTER I.
Edward (so we shall call a wealthy nobleman in the prime of life) had been spending several hours of a fine April morning in his nursery garden, budding the stems of some young trees with cuttings which had been recently sent to him. He had finished what he had been about; and, having laid his tools together in their box, was complacently surveying his work, when the gardener came up, and complimented his master on his industry.
"Have you seen my wife anywhere?" inquired Edward, as he moved to go away.
"My lady is alone yonder in the new grounds," said the man: "the summer-house which she has been making on the rock over against the castle is finished to-day, and really it is beautiful. It cannot fail to please your Grace. The view from it is perfect,—the village at your feet; a little to your right the church, with its tower, which you can just see over; and directly opposite you the castle and the garden."
"Quite true," replied Edward: "I can see the people at work a few steps from where I am standing."
"And then, to the right of the church, again," continued the gardener, "is the opening of the valley; and you look along over a range of wood and meadow far into the distance. The steps up the rock, too, are
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