'There!' she would exclaim, 'there are the very cliffs, there the wood of pines, which he looked at with such delight, as we passed this road together for the last time.

There, too, under the crag of that mountain, is the cottage, peeping from among the cedars, which he bade me remember, and copy with my pencil.

O my father, shall I never see you more!' As she drew near the chateau, these melancholy memorials of past times multiplied.

At length, the chateau itself appeared, amid the glowing beauty of St.Aubert's favourite landscape.

This was an object, which called for fortitude, not for tears; Emily dried hers, and prepared to meet with calmness the trying moment of her return to that home, where there was no longer a parent to welcome her.