The tears and agitation of my poor sister had rendered her unfit to return
to the circle we had left--so I persuaded her to let me drive her through
the park; and, during the ride, I induced her to confide the tale of her
unhappiness to me, fancying that talking of it would lighten the burthen,
and certain that, if there were a remedy, it should be found and secured to
her.

Several weeks had elapsed since the festival of the anniversary, and she
had been unable to calm her mind, or to subdue her thoughts to any regular
train. Sometimes she reproached herself for taking too bitterly to heart,
that which many would esteem an imaginary evil; but this was no subject for
reason; and, ignorant as she was of the motives and true conduct of
Raymond, things assumed for her even a worse appearance, than the reality
warranted. He was seldom at the palace; never, but when he was assured that
his public duties would prevent his remaining alone with Perdita. They
seldom addressed each other, shunning explanation, each fearing any
communication the other might make. Suddenly, however, the manners of
Raymond changed; he appeared to desire to find opportunities of bringing
about a return to kindness and intimacy with my sister. The tide of love
towards her appeared to flow again; he could never forget, how once he had
been devoted to her, making her the shrine and storehouse wherein to place
every thought and every sentiment. Shame seemed to hold him back; yet he
evidently wished to establish a renewal of confidence and affection. From
the moment Perdita had sufficiently recovered herself to form any plan of
action, she had laid one down, which now she prepared to follow. She
received these tokens of returning love with gentleness; she did not shun
his company; but she endeavoured to place a barrier in the way of familiar
intercourse or painful discussion, which mingled pride and shame prevented
Raymond from surmounting. He began at last to shew signs of angry