The history of the house was simply, that "she hated town and loved the
country; that she loved the sea better than the land, and loved society
of her own selection better than society forced upon her.--On the
sea-shore she found all that she liked, and escaped all that she hated.
She therefore lived on the sea-shore.--She had persuaded her father to
build that house, and they had furnished it according to their own
recollections, and even their own whims.--Caprice was liberty, and
liberty was essential to the enjoyment of every thing. Thus, she loved
caprice, and laid herself open to the charge of being fantastic with
those who did not understand her."

In this sportive way she ran on, saying all kinds of lively nothings;
while we drank our coffee out of Saxon porcelain which would have shone
on the table of a crowned head.

The windows were thrown open, and we sat enjoying the noblest of all
scenes, a glorious sunset, to full advantage. The fragrance of the
garden stole in, a "steam of rich distilled perfumes;" the son of the
birds, in those faint and interrupted notes which come with such
sweetness in the parting day; the distant hum of the village, and the
low solemn sound of the waves subsiding on the beach, made a harmony of
their own, perhaps more soothing and subduing than the most refined
touches of human skill. We wanted nothing but an Italian moon to realize
the loveliness of the scene in Belmont.

"The moon shines bright. In such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,
And they did make no noise--in such a night
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
That did renew old Jason."