deepest regret; exclusive of the above consideration, she was also attached to it from its having been the favourite residence of her parents, the place where the blossoms of her youth had blown. Here she wished to pass the remainder of her days—here, where she could be free from that restraint—that state—those tiresome ceremonies, which in a public situation the etiquette of the world obliged her to observe. Like the poet, she might have said,
"This shadowing desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopl'd towns.
Here I can sit alone, unseen of any,
And to the nightingale's complaining notes
Tune my distresses, and record my woes."
From words which sometimes dropped from Madame D'Alembert, Madeline was more than once led to imagine, that besides the death of her mother, she had another cause for sorrow; but whenever she reflected on her situation, that idea vanished, and she
