And what was Mildred to Mr. Edwin? Wherefore was he exiled and alone? What had he done that his name was forbidden to be spoken at Lovell? These ideas constantly haunted me, despite my determination to exclude such idle questionings concerning the mysterious affair. Rose sometimes communicated some portion of her own gay spirit to me: we were thrown much together, for Mildred was constantly occupied with her invalid parent, and Mrs. Priestly shared the duties of her beloved niece. But I often desired the solitude which was more congenial to my turn of mind, though it was not always easy to obtain it, as Rose, from a mistaken kindness, continually watched my movements, and accompanied me wheresoever I desired to go. It was impossible to check the affectionate girl in a direct manner; but I discovered that there was one locality particularly avoided by all the inmates of the castle, which had fallen into decay, and was seldom approached by Rose. This was the western wing or turret; and thither, accordingly, I often bent my steps, in search of quietude, and also of a magnificent prospect to be viewed from the summit. In this sumptuous home at Lovell Castle, my thoughts often wandered to Ivy Lodge on Lodimer’s banks, and its lonely occupant, apart from the vanities of life, contented and cheerful under afflictions which were, I felt sure, of no common nature. I compared the pious recluse with the heir of Lovell, toward whom an inexpressible feeling of repugnance reigned in my breast. Harold was devoted to field sports and the pleasures of the table; he was, in fact, the real master, consulting only his own time and inclinations on all occasions. His bloated, though still handsome countenance, evidenced excess; while a dictatorial manner, as of one unused to reproof or contradiction, was habitual. A constant restlessness and irritability, a quick turn of the eye, a wild glance, betokened a mind ill at ease. He was a scoffer at religion, too, an unkind brother, and an undutiful son to the doating father, who yet believed and saw no faults in his offspring. Despite her brother’s harshness, Rose, with devoted sisterly affection, extenuated Harold’s conduct, and it was very beautiful to witness her womanly tenderness and forbearance. It might be that Mildred was the child of another mother, and that circumstances had somewhat weakened the ties of blood; but notwithstanding her general kindness of demeanor toward all, including Harold, there was a perceptible shade of coldness when addressing him. She never volunteered an embrace, to be cast off, like the persevering, warm-hearted Rose; she never clung to her brother, praying him to remain at home, when he was about to engage in any hazardous or foolish exploit. No; there was some sin or sorrow which had weaned and divided this brother and sister, until the erring one should turn and repent. And who could doubt that Mildred Lovell would open wide her arms to receive the penitent?