nicest arrangement.

"Why, where," said he, struck with the accurate antiquity of some of the
details, "where learned you all these minutiae? You are as wise as Hope
himself upon cornices and tables."

"I was forced to leave these things to others," answered Constance; "but I
took care that they possessed the necessary science."

The night was exceedingly beautiful, and they walked forth under the
summer moon among those grounds in which Constance had first seen
Godolphin. They stood by the very rivulet--they paused at the very spot!
On the murmuring bosom of the wave floated many a water-flower; and now
and then a sudden splash, a sudden circle in the shallow stream, denoted
the leap of the river-tyrant on his prey. There was a universal odor in
the soft air; that delicate, that ineffable fragrance belonging to those
midsummer nights which the rich English poetry might well people with
Oberon and his fairies; the bat wheeled in many a ring along the air; but
the gentle light bathed all things, and robbed his wanderings of the
gloomier associations that belong to them; and ever, and ever, the busy
moth darted to and fro among the flowers, or misled upwards by the stars
whose beam allured it, wandered, like Desire after Happiness, in search of
that light it might never reach. And those stars still, with their soft,
unspeakable eyes of love, looked down upon Godolphin as of old, when, by
the Italian lake, he roved with her for whom he had become the world
itself. No, not now, nor ever, could he gaze upon those wan, mysterious
orbs, and not feel the pang that reminded him of Lucilla! Between them
and her was an affinity which his imagination could not sever. All whom
we have loved have something in nature especially devoted to their memory;
a peculiar flower, a breath of air, a leaf, a tone. What love is without