He grew accustomed to the lukewarm correspondence of his wife, whom he did not suppose offended with him. When he remembered her, it was as a being worthy of his protection, and whose mind he ought to spare from all deeply serious thoughts. But in those splendid tropic nights, that give so grand an idea of nature and its Author, the image of Corinne was often with him; yet, as both war and climate menaced his life each hour, he excused his lingering memory. At the approach of eternity, we forgive and hope to be forgiven. He thought but of the tears his death would cause her, not upon those his errors had extorted. It was natural he should think most of her; they had so often talked of immortality, and sounded every depth of solemn feeling: he fancied that he still conversed with her, while occupied by the great thoughts the spectacles of war invariably suggest. It was to Corinne he spoke in solitude, although he knew that she must sadly blame him. Despite absence, distance, time, and every change, they seemed to understand each other still. At last his regiment was ordered home. The monotony of shipboard pleased him less than had the stir of arms. External excitement supplied some of the imaginative joys he owed to his intercourse with Corinne. He had not yet attempted to live calmly without her. The proofs of devotion his soldiers gave him somewhat beguiled the voyage; but even that interest failed on their landing in England. CHAPTER IV. Nevil had now to renew his acquaintance with his own family, after four years' separation. He arrived at Lady Edgarmond's castle in Northumberland. Lucy presented her child with as much diffidence as if she had deemed herself guilty. Her imagination had been so occupied by her sister, during the period of her maternal expectations, that little Juliet displayed the dark eyes and hair of Corinne. Her father, in wild agitation, pressed her to his heart; and from that instant, Lucy could not take unqualified delight in his affection for his daughter. The young wife was now nearly twenty. Her beauty had attained a dignity which inspired Nevil with respect. Lady Edgarmond was too infirm to leave her bed; yet, though this tried her temper, she received her son-in-law with satisfaction; having feared that she should die in his absence, and leave her daughter alone upon the world. Oswald, so long accustomed to a military career, found it very difficult to remain nearly all day in the chamber of an invalid, who received no one but himself and wife. Lucy dearly loved her lord; but, believing her affection unprized, concealed what she knew of his passion for Corinne, and became more silent than ever. Mild as she was, her mother had so influenced her, that when Oswald hinted at the added charm she would gain by a little animation, she received this but as a proof that he still preferred her sister, and was too hurt to profit by it: he could not speak of the fine arts without occasioning her a sadness