"That is a wish easily granted," said the Earl--"the sober russet shall

be donned to-morrow, if you will."

"But shall I," said the lady, "go with you to one of your castles, to

see how the richness of your dwelling will correspond with your peasant

habit?"

"Why, Amy," said the Earl, looking around, "are not these apartments

decorated with sufficient splendour? I gave the most unbounded order,

and, methinks, it has been indifferently well obeyed; but if thou

canst tell me aught which remains to be done, I will instantly give

direction."

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"Nay, my lord, now you mock me," replied the Countess; "the gaiety of

this rich lodging exceeds my imagination as much as it does my desert.

But shall not your wife, my love--at least one day soon--be surrounded

with the honour which arises neither from the toils of the mechanic

who decks her apartment, nor from the silks and jewels with which your

generosity adorns her, but which is attached to her place among the

matronage, as the avowed wife of England's noblest Earl?"

"One day?" said her husband. "Yes, Amy, my love, one day this shall

surely happen; and, believe me, thou canst not wish for that day more

fondly than I. With what rapture could I retire from labours of state,

and cares and toils of ambition, to spend my life in dignity and honour

on my own broad domains, with thee, my lovely Amy, for my friend and

companion! But, Amy, this cannot yet be; and these dear but stolen

interviews are all I can give to the loveliest and the best beloved of

her sex."

"But WHY can it not be?" urged the Countess, in the softest tones of

persuasion--"why can it not immediately take place--this more perfect,

this uninterrupted union, for which you say you wish, and which the laws

of God and man alike command? Ah! did you but desire it half as much

as you say, mighty and favoured as you are, who or what should bar your

attaining your wish?"

The Earl's brow was overcast.

"Amy," he said, "you speak of what you understand not. We that toil in

courts are like those who climb a mountain of loose sand--we dare make

no halt until some projecting rock affords us a secure footing and

resting-place. If we pause sooner, we slide down by our own weight,

an object of universal derision. I stand high, but I stand not secure

enough to follow my own inclination. To declare my marriage were to be

the artificer of my own ruin. But, believe me, I will reach a point, and

that speedily, when I can do justice to thee and to myself. Meantime,

poison not the bliss of the present moment, by desiring that which

cannot at present be, Let me rather know whether all here is managed

to thy liking. How does Foster bear himself to you?--in all things

respectful, I trust, else the fellow shall dearly rue it."




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