At last the day came, when Selina was to bid adieu to the only scene, with which happiness was as yet associated in her mind. It was a cold stormy morning in December. A mizzling rain darkened the atmosphere, and the leafless trees presented a scene of external desolation, that in some degree corresponded with the mental gloom of the travellers. The sun was scarcely risen, and the domestics, that flitted about in the bleak twilight, all eager to offer some last attention to their beloved young mistress and her respected aunt, seemed by their mourning habits, and sorrowful countenances, to sympathize in their grief; whilst the mournful present was contrasted in every mind with the recollection of those joyous days of benevolent hospitality, that season of the year had formerly presented. Mrs. Galton, suppressing her own feelings, to soothe those of others, stopped to take a friendly leave of all, while poor Selina, overcome by their well meant commiseration, rushed past them, and threw herself into a corner of the carriage in an agony of grief. When they reached the outer gate of the park, they found a few of her father's favourite tenants, and some of the cottagers on whom Selina had formerly bestowed her bounty, assembled to offer their last token of respect and hearty wishes for her future happiness; but few of the number could articulate their simple, though honest, salutations. Unbidden tears trickled down their furrowed cheeks, as they thus parted with the last of their revered master's family. The old men stood in silence with their bare heads exposed to "the pelting of the pitiless storm," while their hearts gave the blessing their lips refused to utter. And the mothers held up their shivering infants to kiss their little hands as the carriage passed, in hopes their infantine gestures would explain the feelings they only could express by tears. When they arrived opposite to the parsonage, they found its kind inhabitants equally anxious to bestow the parting benediction. Nor were their greetings as they drove through the village less numerous or sincere: most of the windows were crowded; and the few tradesmen Deane boasted were waiting at their doors, to make their passing bow, whilst poor Mrs. Martin and Lucy continued waving their handkerchiefs over the white pales, till the carriage was out of sight. CHAPTER XVII. Alquanto malagevole ed aspretta, Per mezzo im bosco presero la via, Che, oltra che sassosa fosse e stretta, Quasi su dritta alla collina gia. Ma poiche furo ascesi in su la belta Usciro in spaziosa pratiera-- Dover il piu bel Palazzo e'l piu giocondo, Vider che mai fosse vecluto al mondo[13]. ORLANDO FURIOSO.