At night, reposing from the fatigues of the day, might the brothers frequently be seen at the fountain of Trevi; George listlessly swinging on the chains near it, and steadfastly watching the water, as it gurgled over the fantastic devices beneath--while his mind wandered back to Malta, and to Acmé. Sir Henry's conduct during this trying period was most exemplary. Like the mother, who lavishes her tenderest endearments on her sickliest child, did he now endeavour to support his brother in his afflictions. As the bleak night wind came on, he would arouse George from his reverie--would make him lean his tall form on his--would wrap closely the folds of his cloak around him--would speak _so_ softly--and soothe _so_ tenderly. And gratefully did George's heart respond to his kindness. He knew that the sorrow which bowed _him_ to the earth, was also blanching the cheek of his brother, and he loved him doubly for his solicitude. Ah! few brothers have thus made sweet the fraternal tie! Chapter V. The East Indian. "Would I not stem A tide of suffering, rather than forego Such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm Of those whose thoughts are only turn'd below, Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts that dare not glow?" From Rome and our care-worn travellers, let us turn to Mrs. Vernon's drawing-room at Leamington. An unforeseen event suddenly made a considerable change in the hopes and prospects of our fair friend Julia. One warm summer's morning--it was on the very day, that the brothers, with Acmé, were sailing close to the Calabrian mountains, and the latter was telling her ghost story, within view of the sweet village of Capo del Marte--one balmy summer's morning, the Miss Vernons were seated in a room, furnished like most English drawing-rooms; that is to say, it had tables for trinkets--a superb mirror--a Broadwood piano--an Erard harp--a reclining sofa--and a woolly rug, on which slept, dreamt, and snored, a small Blenheim spaniel. Julia had a mahogany frame before her, and was thoughtfully working a beaded purse. The hue of health had left her cheek. Its complexion was akin to that of translucent alabaster. The features wore a more fixed and regular aspect, and their play was less buoyant and quick changing than heretofore. Deep thought! thus has been thy warfare for ever. First, thou stealest from the rotund face its joyous dimples; then, dost thou gradually imprint remorseless furrows on the anxious brow. A servant entered the room, and bore on a salver a letter addressed to Miss Vernon. Its deep black binding--its large coat of arms--bespoke it death's official messenger. Julia's cheek blanched as she glanced over its first page. Her sisters laid down their work, and looked towards her with some curiosity. Julia burst into tears. "Poor uncle Vernon!" Her sisters seemed surprised at the announcement, but not to participate in Julia's feelings on the occasion.