As she thought she knew her ground better, she would occasionally secrete the hookah, and indulge in eloquent discourse, on the injurious effects, and waste of time, that the said hookah entailed. Nor could the old man enjoy in peace, his evening slumber. One of his nieces was always ready to shake him by the elbow, and address him with an expostulatory "Oh! dear uncle!" which, though delivered with silvery voice, seemed to him deuced provoking. For some time, the old Indian good-naturedly acquiesced in these arrangements; and was far too polite at any time to scold, or hazard a scene. Mrs. Vernon was all complacency, and imagined her triumph assured. Suddenly the tempest gathered to a head. Bachelor habits regained their ascendancy; and Mrs. Vernon was thunderstruck, when it was one morning duly announced to her, that her brother-in-law had purchased a large estate in Monmouthshire, and that he intended permanently to reside there. Mrs. Vernon was deeply chagrined. She thought him ungrateful, and told him so. At the outset, our East Indian was anxious that his niece Julia, who had been by far the most tolerant of his bachelor vices, should preside over his new establishment; but the feelings of the mother and daughter were alike opposed to this arrangement. This was the last rock on which he and his brother's widow split; and it was decisive. From that hour, all correspondence between them ceased. Arrived in Wales, our nabob endeavoured to attach himself to country pursuits--purchased adjoining estates--employed many labourers--and greatly improved his property. But his rural occupations were quite at variance with his acquired habits. He pined away--became hypochondriacal--and died, just three years after leaving Mrs. Vernon, for want of an Eastern sun, and something to love. Chapter VI. Veil "The seal is set." On the day fixed for the departure of Sir Henry Delmé and his brother, they together visited once more the sumptuous pile of St. Peter's, and heard the voices of the practised choristers swell through the mighty dome, as the impressive service of the Catholic Church was performed by the Pope and his conclave. The morning dawn had seen George, as was his daily custom in Rome, kneeling beside the grave of Acmé, and breathing a prayer for their blissful reunion in heaven. As the widower staggered from that spot, the thought crossed him, and bitterly poignant was that thought, that now might he bid a second earthly farewell, to what had been his pride, and household solace. Now, indeed, "was the last link broken." Each hour--each traversed league--was to bear him away from even the remains of his heart's treasure. Their bones must moulder in a different soil. It was Sir Henry's choice that they should on that day visit Saint Peter's; and well might the travellers leave Rome with so unequalled an object fresh in the mind's eye.