Amid the clouds, cloud-formed castles turreted with gold, and temples, sustained by pillars which seemed of fire, arose, spread, united, brightened, divided, and sunk again. Imagination could fancy them dissolving in the intensity of their own lustre. Where these had been, mimic vessels now appeared, of fleecy whiteness, sailing on the liquid gold. These melted next, and waves of clouds, rolling themselves together heap on heap, rose to mountains ranged across the west, and shutting out almost all its glories. Yet on their purple summits, there seemed to linger floating forms, still of vivid hues, though each moment losing something of their brightness, till, gradually, they became of a sombre grey, as, one by one, they clothed themselves in mist, and, blending with the deepening shadows, disappeared. The upper sky, however, was still streaked with alternate grey and gold, which the face of the water, faithfully as a mirror, reflected. The real mountains which surrounded the lake, and the little islands which lay slumbering on its surface, had become masses of an almost jetty black, and there was little light remaining any where, when a solitary row-boat put off from the opposite shore. As it crossed one of the illumined paths, which reflected from the sky still appeared on the water, the working of its oars was, for the moment, visible, together with the strongly defined form of one who, with folded arms, stood erect at its bow. Julia certainly saw, for the moment described, as we see with the mind’s eye what crosses us in thought, the boat, and the figure, for the appearance they made at the time afterwards floated on her memory. Yet she remained motionless. CHAPTER XX. “Whither art thou gone, fair spirit? In what cave Of the rock shall I find thee?” It became dark, the usual hour for tea at Lodore-house approached. The drawing-room was lit for the purpose, the tea equipage placed, and, finally, the steaming urn brought in. Still there was no person in the room. At length Frances entered. She looked round with some surprise. She approached the table, and touched lightly, with her taper finger, the side of the tea-pot. Finding it cold, she wondered that Julia had not made tea. She rang the bell, and desired that Lady Julia might be called. Alice was sent to Julia’s room. Julia was not there, but three notes were found, conspicuously placed, on her dressing table, one directed to her father, one to her grandmother, and one to her sister. They were all couched in gentle and affectionate terms. The attachment which had induced her to the present step, she said, had long subsisted. She had only waited to be of age. They should hear from her shortly, she added, when she should give them an address, by which she should get their letters, without their knowing where to find her; for that she meant to remain in concealment, till they had all pronounced her free pardon, were it for years!