It was an exciting and yet a soothing scene.  Some minds, untouched by care, would here have revelled in unchecked gladness.  In others, it might have been productive of that soothing melancholy, which, from its very sweetness, we encourage till it becomes pain:  such was the case with Caroline.  Her spirits, buoyed up at first with the hope and expectation that here at least Lord Alphingham might resume his attentions unremarked, she had been excited to unwonted gaiety; but as the hours wore on, and he approached her not, that excitement faded into melancholy and doubt.  Not even had the usual signals of intelligence passed between them, for he had been sedulously devoting himself to almost every beautiful girl in the gardens.  Jealousy for a moment took possession of her mind, but that very quickly gave way to indignation against her father.

“If he has been treated as Annie tells me, if his proposals for me have been rejected,” she thought, “how can I expect or hope that he will continue his addresses?  He knows not but that I have been consulted, and is my happiness to be overthrown, rudely cast aside, by the insinuations of a boy?” and covering her face with her hands, she burst into tears:  the scene, the time, the faint sound of the distant music, encouraged these feelings, and heightened despondency.  Day was darkening around her, aided by the sombre shade of the gigantic trees, which formed a grove where she sat, and the music borne along at intervals sounded unusually mournful.  A heavy sigh near her aroused her from her painful trance, and starting, she beheld the object of her thoughts standing by her side.  His speaking eyes were fixed on her with a glance not the most obtuse imagination could have misinterpreted, and the whole expression of his peculiarly handsome features betrayed the most eloquent and pleading sympathy.

“Oh, that it might be mine, the blessed privilege of endeavouring to soothe or to relieve this grief!” he passionately exclaimed, as with an air of the utmost respect he ventured to take her hand.  “I had indulged in presumptuous hopes.  I had ventured to read the flattering notice which I ever received from you as a confirmation of my wishes, and I indulged in fondly-cherished visions that ere this I should indeed have had a right, a holy right, to soothe your every grief and share in every joy.  I thought wrong; your flattering notice must have been but the impulse of your kind heart, pitying what you could not fail to behold; and yet, oh, Miss Hamilton, that very demonstration of your gentle nature has increased my misery; it has bade me love, nay, adore you.  I blame you not.  I have been presumptuous—­mad.  I had no right to expect so much happiness.  My proposals were refused.  I was told your conduct must have made it evident that I was not pleasing to you.  I fled from your presence, but I could not rest alone.  Again, like a mad fool, I have plunged myself in the centre of fascination.  I could not