When the frequent rains shut us within doors, evening recreation followed morning study, ushered in by music and song.  Idris had a natural musical talent; and her voice, which had been carefully cultivated, was full and sweet.  Raymond and I made a part of the concert, and Adrian and Perdita were devout listeners.  Then we were as gay as summer insects, playful as children; we ever met one another with smiles, and read content and joy in each other’s countenances.  Our prime festivals were held in Perdita’s cottage; nor were we ever weary of talking of the past or dreaming of the future.  Jealousy and disquiet were unknown among us; nor did a fear or hope of change ever disturb our tranquillity.  Others said, We might be happy—­we said—­We are.

When any separation took place between us, it generally so happened, that Idris and Perdita would ramble away together, and we remained to discuss the affairs of nations, and the philosophy of life.  The very difference of our dispositions gave zest to these conversations.  Adrian had the superiority in learning and eloquence; but Raymond possessed a quick penetration, and a practical knowledge of life, which usually displayed itself in opposition to Adrian, and thus kept up the ball of discussion.  At other times we made excursions of many days’ duration, and crossed the country to visit any spot noted for beauty or historical association.  Sometimes we went up to London, and entered into the amusements of the busy throng; sometimes our retreat was invaded by visitors from among them.  This change made us only the more sensible to the delights of the intimate intercourse of our own circle, the tranquillity of our divine forest, and our happy evenings in the halls of our beloved Castle.

The disposition of Idris was peculiarly frank, soft, and affectionate.  Her temper was unalterably sweet; and although firm and resolute on any point that touched her heart, she was yielding to those she loved.  The nature of Perdita was less perfect; but tenderness and happiness improved her temper, and softened her natural reserve.  Her understanding was clear and comprehensive, her imagination vivid; she was sincere, generous, and reasonable.  Adrian, the matchless brother of my soul, the sensitive and excellent Adrian, loving all, and beloved by all, yet seemed destined not to find the half of himself, which was to complete his happiness.  He often left us, and wandered by himself in the woods, or sailed in his little skiff, his books his only companions.  He was often the gayest of our party, at the same time that he was the only one visited by fits of despondency; his slender frame seemed overcharged with the weight of life, and his soul appeared rather to inhabit his body than unite with it.  I was hardly more devoted to my Idris than to her brother, and she loved him as her teacher, her friend, the benefactor who had secured to her the fulfilment of her dearest wishes.  Raymond, the ambitious, restless Raymond, reposed midway