In the affection of the latter, gentle and never fluctuating as it was, there seemed to her a something wanting, which she could not define.

She had watched that beloved face all the morning.

She had hoped to see the tender eyes fixed upon her, and hear the meek voice exclaim, "I cannot part with my child!" All the gay pictures which the light-hearted Caroline drew of the scenes she was to enter had vanished away--now that the hour approached when her mother was to be left alone.

Why was she to go?
It seemed to her an unnecessary cruelty.
As she thus sat, she did not observe that Mr.Aubrey, who had seen her at a distance, was now bending his way to her; and not till he had entered the arbour, and taken her hand, did she waken from those reveries in which youth, the Dreamer and the Desirer, so morbidly indulges.
"Tears, my child ?" said the curate.

"Nay, be not ashamed of them; they become you in this hour.