Of this scene I must decline to attempt a description. I could say nothing new to such of my readers, who know by experience how exquisitely pure those feelings are, which virtuous love inspires; and on such, as have not that experience, my labour would be lost. In short it was an interview between two young persons, firmly affianced and fondly attached to each other, and how delicately that must pass, which honour conducts on one part, and innocence on the other, there needs no ghost to tell us. In the breakfast-room the whole family were assembled. In the countenances of the several parties any man of common sagacity might have read the several feelings. Old De Lancaster struggled hard to maintain a firm and dignified tranquillity, and if he did at any time betray symptoms of occasional embarrassment, it was only to show that his philosophy did not absolutely desert him. The person, whose thoughts seemed to be most disengaged, was the gallant Major, who just then had the most to do; for the ordering and arranging of the whole cavalcade had been assigned over to him, and the alacrity, with which he executed his authority over men, horses and carriages, left him no time for those tender sentiments and concerns, that seemed to occupy every body else. Life and spirit animated him; silence and sadness dwelt on all the rest. Here was an opportunity for an orator to avail himself of, and an audience to his heart’s content most happily disposed to hear him: but Mr. De Lancaster let it go by for reasons no doubt best known to himself. He did indeed take occasion to impart a few words to Edward Wilson when he came into the room; but they were only for his private ear. The ladies kept their station in the back ground, and as much out of sight as they could contrive. Devereux had very sensibly committed his adieus to paper, and left them in the hands of Mr. De Lancaster’s servant to be delivered to him at his better leisure. At length Major Wilson in a sprightly tone announced all ready; Devereux’s travelling coach was first at the door, and appointed to lead; himself with John and the two Wilsons were by the major’s order billeted upon it; our hero halted a few minutes, after his companions had taken leave, to bid farewell to the beloved objects of his duty and affection; after which, having presented himself at the door of the coach, where his three friends were already seated, he made his parting acknowledgments to the crowd, who were invoking blessings in his behalf; and passed the outward gate of the castle with those sensations and in that kind of triumph, which only virtue can deserve, and gratitude alone bestow.