There is a solemnity in the shortest ejaculation, which, for a while,
stills the tumult of passion. Mary's mind had been thrown off its poise;
her devotion had been, perhaps, more fervent for some time past; but
less regular. She forgot that happiness was not to be found on earth,
and built a terrestrial paradise liable to be destroyed by the first
serious thought: when, she reasoned she became inexpressibly sad, to
render life bearable she gave way to fancy--this was madness.

In a few days she must again go to sea; the weather was very
tempestuous--what of that, the tempest in her soul rendered every other
trifling--it was not the contending elements, but _herself_ she feared!




CHAP. XVII.


In order to gain strength to support the expected interview, she went
out in a carriage. The day was fine; but all nature was to her a
universal blank; she could neither enjoy it, nor weep that she could
not. She passed by the ruins of an old monastery on a very high hill she
got out to walk amongst the ruins; the wind blew violently, she did not
avoid its fury, on the contrary, wildly bid it blow on, and seemed glad
to contend with it, or rather walk against it. Exhausted she returned to
the carriage was soon at home, and in the old room.

Henry started at the sight of her altered appearance; the day before her
complexion had been of the most pallid hue; but now her cheeks were
flushed, and her eyes enlivened with a false vivacity, an unusual fire.