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CHAPTER II.

Early she loved the storied page,

And sought the treasures of bard and sage,
And early bent on the earth and skies

The searching gaze of her earnest eyes.

F. BROWN.

THEY passed many years beneath the Ausonian skies, and they were indeed years of sunshine to Evelyn. Her imagination was filled with dreams of love, and happiness, and beauty; and time glided onward in undisturbed delight. When again she was aroused from her fond delusions to experience the stern reality of grief. Again she shed tears of burning anguish by a parent's death-bed, and in that hour of agony found herself an orphan.

Attacked by mortal sickness, Stuart foresaw his approaching end; great was his sorrow at the thought of leaving his child unprotected and alone. Bitterly now did he regret that pride which had prevented him, as a man of genius,

from stooping to any save literary labour. His scanty earnings ended with his life, and only a very small sum, the property of her mother, was left to support his darling child. And he must leave her alone in a foreign land !—his only friend, an only sister, to whom he would fain have entrusted her, was far away in their native country. But again, Evelyn, remembering her mother's last injunction, controlled her own sorrow and sought to cheer her father. She promised every thing, and bade him not fear for her; and he believed her; he blessed her!--and he died.

And Evelyn stood by his grave-by the grave of him she loved so well:-her only friend! She was alone-alone in the wide world; far from her country, from her home-her home!and where was her home? Kneeling by her father's grave, she felt the bitterness of that thought.

"Why should I live!" she exclaimed with anguish; "oh, my father-mother, would I were with you!-But no, the thought is sin. No, rather let me pray your Evelyn may be worthy of you-worthy of all your care, and all your love. Ah! who will love me now?”

Sad were the orphan's tears, sincere the orphan's prayers: she arose consoled and strengthened. After a lingering look at the

sacred spot, over which the young grass already bloomed joyously, she bade a mournful adieu to Italy; and, in pursuance of her father's directions, and accompanied only by one humble attendant, returned to her native land.

Henry Stuart's sister, and Evelyn's new friend, was the wife of a humble and hardworking man. Not dazzled by ambition, or led astray by hope, Mr. Seaton-unlike his brother-in-law-pursued his way in patience and perseverance; and contrived, though with some difficulty, to support his family in tolerable comfort and respectability. They were poor, but they did not hesitate to receive the friendless orphan. She was welcomed with parental love, and oh! how the voice of affection touched the warm heart of Evelyn ! When she threw her arms round her aunt's neck, the long restrained tears burst forth; she was happy-for she felt she had yet a friend.

Her early years had been those of domestic bliss, and again she rejoiced in the delights of home happiness. Yet, how sadly she missed her father now!-now more than ever. Her new friends were kind and affectionate; but simple and ignorant. She exulted in sympathy of heart but she longed for communion of mind. Often would she retire to some secluded spot, and gazing on the barren landscape, behold,

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in fancy, the radiant fields of Italy, where she had wandered with her beloved father. Then she would recal his words of wisdom, would dwell on his most casual remarks, and find new pleasure in living over the past again. How short-sighted is man! when Henry Stuart regretted having spoken to his daughter of things above her comprehension, he thought not those very subjects would form a theme for her enquiring mind to dwell upon, when otherwise it might have been inactive.

Without books, without means of study, her time was not lost. Education has various systems, though to one only is it generally applied-to the knowledge of various facts and rules, acquired by years of toil and application, perhaps forgotten as soon as known. Ah, wise parent, teach your child to think; then, and then only, will he be educated, and equal to the emergencies of life. The years passed at school in acquiring outward accomplishments, and learning various data by fixed routine, were never known to Evelyn; but amid the wild solitudes of nature, without teachers, without companions, her mind, concentrated upon itself, acquired new vigour. As she reviewed the past, all now seemed clear: she understood her father's genius, and her mother's love, and she gloried in her

parents. The germs of that father's spirit were unfolding in her breast, she sympathized with his ambition, and burned to emulate it. Often, after hours of solitary musing, and silent thought, she would start from her reverie, and, pushing the clustering curls from her brow, would transcribe, with breathless rapidity, and almost trembling eagerness, the various visionary and unformed ideas, that occupied her mind-in language not adorned by the studied elegance of rhetoric, but certainly animated by the real eloquence of feeling. Then, turning away from these beloved and self-admired compositions, she would cover her face and weep, that she could not show them to her father. What is genius without sympathy? What is glory without love? Already she believed the mighty truth, that fameeven the brightest and the purest,—that intellectual power, however vast, however universal, are inferior-how immeasurably inferior to the kindlier and holier happiness of the heart.

Evelyn was unconscious of the advantages she acquired from these solitary meditations and self-communings. She was restless and unhappy; she longed for she knew not what; she was eager to do something; to have something to achieve-some object to live for. Who knows not the emotions of that moment, when

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