said about his illegitimate children, not an inquiry ordained towards his
poor relations. In this, as in all the formula of his will, Saville
followed the prescribed customs of the world.

Fast went the panting steeds that bore Constance and Godolphin from the
desolate city. Bright was the summer sky, and green looked the smiling
fields that lay on either side their road. Nature was awake and active.
What a delicious contrast to the scenes of Art which they left behind!
Constance exerted herself to the utmost to cheer the spirits of her
companion, and succeeded. In the small compass which confined them
together, their conversation flowed in confidence and intimate affection.
Not since the first month of their union had they talked with less reserve
and more entire love--only there was this difference in their topics they
then talked of the future only, they now talked more of the past. They
uttered many a fond regret over their several faults to each other; and,
with clasped hands, congratulated themselves on their present reunion of
heart. They allowed how much all things independent of affection had
deceived them, and no longer exacting so much from love, they felt its
real importance. Ah, why do all of us lose so many years in searching
after happiness, but never inquiring into its nature! We are like one who
collects the books of a thousand tongues, and knowing not their language,
wonders why they do not delight him?

But still, athwart the mind of Constance one dark image would ever and
anon obtrude itself; the solitary and mystic Lucilla, with her erring
brain and forlorn fortunes, was not even in happiness to be forgotten.
There were times, too, in that short journey, when she felt the tale of
her interview with that unhappy being rise to her lips: but ever when she
looked on the countenance of Godolphin, beaming with more heartfelt and
homeborn gladness than she had seen for years, she could not bear the