Each night they turned their footsteps towards the Mole; where they embarked on the unruffled bay. To a young and loving heart--the heart of a bride--no pleasure can equal that, of being next the one loved best on earth--at night's still witching hour. The peculiar scenery of Naples, yet more enhances such pleasure. Elsewhere night may boast its azure vault and its silver stars. Cynthia may ride the heavens in majesty--the water may be serene--and the heart attuned to the night's beauty:--but from the _land_, if discernible--we can rarely expect much addition to the charms of the scene, and can never expect it to form its chief attraction. At Naples it is otherwise. Our eyes turn to the Volcano, whose flame, crowning the mountain's summit, crimsons the sky. We watch with undiminished interest, its fitful action--now bursting out brilliantly--now fading, as if about to be extinguished for ever. Seated beside George, and thus gazing, what pleasure was Acmé's! We need not say time flew swiftly. Never did happiness meet with more ardent votary than in that young bride--or find a more ready mirror, on which to reflect her beaming attributes--than on the features of that bride's husband. Their swimming eyes would fill with tears--and their voices sink to the lowest whisper. Sir Henry rarely interrupted their converse; but leant his head on the boat's side, and thoughtfully gazed on the placid waters, till he almost deemed he saw reflected on its surface, the face of one, in whose society _he_ felt he too might be blest. But these fancies would not endure long. Delmé would quickly arouse himself; and, warned by the lateness of the hour, and feeling the necessity that existed, for his thinking for the all-engrossed pair, would order the rowers to direct the boat's course homewards. Returned to their hotel, it may be that orisons more heavenward, have issued from hearts more pure. Few prayers more full of gratitude, have been whispered by earthly lips, than were breathed by George and his young wife in the solitude of their chamber. How often is such uncommon happiness as this the precursor of evil! Chapter II. The Doctor. "Son port, son air de suffisance, Marquent dans son savoir sa noble confiance. Dans les doctes debats ferme et rempli de coeur, Même après sa défaite il tient tête an vainqueur. Voyez, pour gagner temps, quelles lenteurs savantes, Prolongent de ses mots les syllabes traînantes! Tout le monde l'admire, et ne peut concevoir Que dans un cerveau seul loge tant de savoir." It was soon after the excursion to Poestum, that a packet of letters reached the travellers from Malta. These letters had been forwarded from England, on the intelligence reaching Emily, of George's intended marriage. They had been redirected to Naples, by Colonel Vavasour, and were accompanied by a few lines from himself.