Pelham waited not for further leave; he pressed her to his heart, and, as he printed a fond kiss on her forehead, “God bless you, Emmeline,—God bless and protect you both!” he cried, with emotion; “and in your future hours of happiness remember me.” Then resuming a more cheerful tone, he added: “And now, my dear friends, that my mind is at ease about you both, (for I do not now apprehend a relapse of _any_ sort,) and that I can leave you, Fitzhenry, in the care of so good a nurse, I must repair to my post, and set off to-morrow morning for Vienna, in case any longer delay should bring me to disgrace—as politics have little respect for the feelings of friendship.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER VII. “In vain may art the couch of sickness tend, Or friendship sigh, or sympathy implore, Or love, all sanguine, o’er the sufferer bend; The mortal sinks,—and every hope is o’er! These brooding thoughts in useless pangs expire; More soothing sounds let struggling nature hear, Catch from religion’s shrine an holier fire, And wake to duty, from her trance severe.” AFTER Mr. Pelham’s departure, Fitzhenry became very impatient to return to England. He was better certainly, and had regained some degree of strength; for now, leaning on Emmeline’s arm, he was able to walk about his apartment; but still he did not seem to recover as rapidly as he should. A degree of varying fever still hung about him; his cough, which the French physician still called nervous, at times exhausted him much, and he had a look of languor quite unnatural to him; his cheek remained hollow, his eyes looked sunk. Paris, meanwhile, grew insufferably hot; his anxiety to leave it, and his desire for home became so strong—partaking of the feverish longing of illness—that in the hope that the short sea voyage might prove rather beneficial to him than the contrary, it was at last decided that they should set out for Arlingford. They went down the Seine by water, and then hired a vessel to take them to Pool, which was within only twelve miles of their own home. The voyage seemed to do Fitzhenry good, the sea air to refresh him; and, on his near approach to Arlingford, his spirits and animation seemed to return; and Emmeline gazed with delight on the colour in his cheeks, and the sparkling gladness of his eyes; and oh! how eloquent was their language to her doating heart! what volumes did they tell in one single glance!