CHAPTER XXXI.

May he again return, and with him bring

A soft serenity on pleasure's wing;

While anxious fears, and doubt, shall disappear,

The heavy mists of gloomy thought to clear.

The scenes of solitude were now more pleasing to Alida than ever. She

loved to wander through the shady grove and lonely valley, and adapt

their retirement to her own particular situation. She would often stray

as far as the cottage or the farmhouse, at a little distance, and would

sometimes take the winding path through a beautiful piece of wood which

led to Raymond's, where the thick foliage formed a grateful shade.

There she would indulge herself in solitary thought. "How changeable are

all things terrestrial," said she, "the varied year has its seasons, and

winter and summer are constantly in pursuit of each other. The elements

are frequently disturbed by storms and tempests, so, in like manner, is

the human breast at intervals troubled and discomposed, and often

remains overshadowed with pensive sadness and cheerless reverie; and

these desponding ideas must continue to have influence over the mind,

till the sunshine of reason and religion kindly dispels the gloom, and

awakens anew the feelings of the heart to the rays of hope and more

enlivening sensations." She had just returned home one afternoon from

Raymond's, when her brother, who had been absent on business to the

city, drove up the avenue, accompanied by Mr. More.

[_NY Weekly_: The Nettle and the Rose:

.... As the year has its seasons, and winter and summer are

constantly in pursuit of each other, so changeable likewise is the

condition of mortals; and as the elements are frequently disturbed

by storms, hurricanes, and tempests, so is the mind of man

frequently ruffled and discomposed, till the sun-shine of reason

and philosophy bursts forth and dispels the gloom.....]

Albert informed his sister of the arrival of Theodore. She almost

fainted at the intelligence, so unexpected: and although she wished of

all things, to learn all the circumstances attending his absence, yet

she dreaded the event, to behold him again, fearing the truth of

Bonville's suggestions.

In the midst of these thoughts and fears, Theodore alighted at the

house, and was shown by the servant into the drawing-room.

Theodore, regardless of all around him, as soon as he beheld Alida, he

grasped her hand, exclaiming with rapture, "Has the period at length

arrived, and am I indeed once more so happy as to meet again my

much-esteemed and long-lost friend."

Alida gazed on him in silence. He saw her extreme agitation, and after

they were seated, he observed more particularly her altered appearance.

What surprise and grief was manifest in his countenance, when he saw the

paleness of her cheek, and the roses that once spread their healthy hue

over them, now seemed fled for ever. In a length of time, she became

somewhat more composed; but in what light to consider Theodore, she yet

did not know, and former ideas still clouded her imagination.

At length she assumed sufficient courage, to ask him, why he had not

thought proper to inform any of his friends of the circumstances

attending his absence.

Theodore could scarcely remain silent while Alida was speaking; he was

surprised beyond all description at what he heard. "Can it be possible,"

said he, "that you have missed of information concerning me, when I

delayed not to inform you of all my movements, every opportunity I had

to convey intelligence." He then informed her that the letters had been

sent to Raymond, and those for herself were enclosed, and committed to

his care; and through this channel, he had related minutely all the

various trials and circumstances attending his unexpected journey, and

the cause of his protracted stay. Alida was evidently convinced, and

appeared again assured of the truth of her lover. The energy with which

he spoke, his agitated feelings, joined to the distress visible in his

countenance, convinced her of his sincerity, at least caused her to

doubt, what a few moments before appeared so incontestible: and her

present happiness fully compensated for the lengthy period of distress

and anxiety she had experienced.

Albert was delighted at the return of Theodore, and highly gratified in

his hopes, to find in his early friend, still the man of honour he had

ever considered him. He had never once mentioned his name to Alida

during their separation; although his thoughts often revolved on the

unhappy result of their acquaintance, and the future welfare of his

sister.

Mr. More was a silent spectator of this joyful meeting. He now beheld

the person who had been so happy as to win the esteem and affections of

Alida, a person that he had heard spoken of, though it had appeared that

he never expected to see.

He witnessed the happy meeting. Sighs and tears from this time were his

only companions, while his aspect pourtrayed nought but anguish and

utter despair. He looked upon this happy pair as already united. He shed

tears of evident anguish, when he took leave of Alida, and his looks

told her it must now be forever.

The evening was not far advanced, when Bonville, who was altogether

ignorant of Theodore's arrival, unexpectedly made his appearance. Struck

with the utmost consternation at seeing him, he involuntarily receded a

few paces, then suddenly advancing, as if recollecting himself, he gave

him his hand with seeming cordiality.

[_A&M_:

Beauman and Alonzo addressed each other with much seeming

cordiality.]

The natural politeness and civility of the other supplied the place of a

more cordial reception.

Ten thousand fears at once agitated the bosom of Bonville, while he

appeared half frantic with grief and apprehension. Dismay threw a sudden

cloud over his understanding; he was confused in the extreme. He had

intercepted all the letters of Theodore; he secretly reproached himself

for his treacherous conduct.

He now saw the termination of all his hopes. Disappointment he could not

brook, his pride could never submit to it with any degree of

resignation, and the bitterness that pervaded his mind, almost bordered

on phrenzy.

His conscience reproved him for reiterated misrepresentations and

calumnies of Theodore, with which he had harrassed the mind of Alida. He

knew that a discovery must now be made of his perfidy, and on his return

home to the village, he was confined to his room with a sudden illness,

succeeded by a dangerous fever.

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