It seemed to her to end in a celestial shower.
She was oppressed by wonder of the writer who could run like the rill of the mountains in written speech; and her recollection of the contents perpetually hurried to the close, which was more in her way of writing, for there the brief sentences had a throb beneath them.
She did not speak of the letter to her brother when she returned it.

A night in the carriage, against his shoulder, was her happy prospect, in the thought that she would be with her dearest all night, touching him asleep, and in the sweet sense of being near to the beloved of the fairest angel of her sex.

They pursued their journey soon after Anton was dismissed with warm shakes of the hand and appointments for a possible year in the future.
The blast of the postillion's horn on the dark highway moved Chillon to say: 'This is what they call posting, my dear.' She replied: 'Tell me, brother: I do not understand, "Let none these marks efface," at the commencement, after most "picturesque of Castles":--that is you.' 'They are quoted from the verses of a lord who was a poet, addressed to the castle on Lake Leman.

She will read them to you.' 'Will she ?' The mention of the lord set Carinthia thinking of the lord whom that beautiful SHE pitied because she was forced to wound him and he was very sensitive.

Wrapped in Henrietta, she slept through the joltings of the carriage, the grinding of the wheels, the blowing of the horn, the flashes of the late moonlight and the kindling of dawn..