in the ear of De Brooke, the proposition was eagerly responded to, and Robert was dispatched with orders to conduct her and his children immediately to him.
Left during the interval to his own reflections,—"My golden hours of happiness, alas!" thought he, "how swiftly have they fled!" But still, if possessed of an unrepining spirit, and if blessed with a competency, he hoped they might not be quite exhausted; intervals of happiness might still exist for him, drawing their source from the ties of husband and father,—ties of affection which rendered life so valuable to him; his misfortunes, far from giving counterpoise, contributing to augment them; if the torch that formerly illumined his path to the hymeneal altar burnt less vivid, it then emitted a beam more steady. Angelina was the light of his soul! and he awaited the sound of her footsteps with an impatience that caused every minute to seem an age. Transfixed to the window, his eye rested upon the huge gates opposite, every moment expecting his beloved wife.
She came, the little Aubrey running by her side; his younger children, as before, were borne in the arms of Robert, who strided foremost in order to point the way. Seizing his hat, De Brooke descended to meet them. Their mutual
