Solitude and sickness had before awakened many thoughts in her mind, and she recalled them as she sat beside her dead husband's grave. She looked into her motives, tried to understand the deceits she had practised on herself, and to purify her conscience. She meditated on time, that law of the world, which is so mysterious, and so potent; ruling us despotically, and yet wholly unappreciated till we think upon it. Petrarch says, that he was never so young, but that he knew that he was growing old. Lady Lodore had never thought of this till a few months back; it seemed to her, that she had never known it until now--that she felt that she was older--older than the vain and lovely bride of Lodore--than the haughty high-spirited friend of Casimir Lyzinski. And where was Casimir? She had never heard of him again, she had scarcely ever thought of him; he had grown older too--change, the effects of passion or of destiny, must have visited him also;--they were all embarked on one mighty stream--Lodore had gained a haven; but the living were still at the mercy of the vast torrent--whither would it hurry them? There was a charm in these melancholy and speculative thoughts to the beautiful exile--for we may be indeed as easily exiled by a few roods of ground, as by mountains and seas. A strong decree of fate banished Cornelia from the familiar past, into an unknown and strange present. Still she clung to the recollection of bygone years, and for the first time gave way to reflections full of scenes and persons to be seen no more. The tomb beside which she lingered, was an outward sign of these past events, and she did not like to lose sight of it so soon. She heard that Mrs. Elizabeth Fitzhenry was to remain away for a month--so much time at least was hers. She inquired for lodgings, and was directed to Dame Nixon's cottage. She was somewhat dismayed at first by its penurious appearance, but "it would do for a few days;" and she found that what would serve for a few days, might serve for months. "Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long." Most true for solitary man. It is society that increases his desires. If Lady Lodore had been visited in her humble dwelling by the least regarded among her acquaintances, she would have felt keenly its glaring deficiencies. But although used to luxury, Margaret's cuisine sufficed for herself alone; the low-roofed rooms were high enough, and the latticed windows which let in the light of heaven, fulfilled their purpose as well as the plate-glass and lofty embrasures of a palace.