How a mind and character, that from amongst all her sisters, had been the one most answering to her own, had effectually roused itself from the shadowy Paradise of her earlier years, to meet the real demands of life--to embrace its actual duties, and defy its uncongenial pains--and not only this, but to find therein, more than in the pleasanter summer paths of earlier days, or in those refined indulgences in which her spirit still loved at times to cherish, true happiness and peace. "I have found peace in the bright earth, And in the sunny sky, I have found it in the summer seas, And where dreams murmur by. "I find it in the quiet tone Of voices that I love, By the flickering of a twilight fire, And in a leafless grove. "I find it in the silent flow Of solitary thought, In calm, half-meditated dreams, And reasonings self-taught. "But seldom have I found such peace As in the soul's deep joy, Of passing onward free from harm, Through every day's employ." And even her brother-in-law, Mr. Gillespie, though of a less kindred soul, and with those matter of fact and prosaic points of character--attributes in his case, both national and professional. Even in his companionship, she found something bracing and effectual, such as she might not have done with more yielding and indulgent friends. Her darling brother--it had been her former happy dream to pass her unmarried days in his companionship; and she might have been with him now, had it not been deemed, at present, neither convenient or expedient. She must in that case have shared her brother's chambers in London; and at her age, and under her peculiar circumstances, such an arrangement could scarcely be available, without being an interruption to her brother's important studies and pursuits, though he would have made any present sacrifice for his sister's sake. Ah, yes! or why did he turn his eyes so steadily from a sight so fascinating to his heart as was that cherub face, which often looked down upon him from a pew of the Temple Church--or bravely resist the flattering attention and repeated hospitalities of the eminent counsel, that cherub's father, in whose house-- "He saw her upon nearer view, A spirit, but a woman too," and who seemed in every way inclined to bestow her notice on the promising, agreeable student of the Middle Temple? Why?--but because he determined to allow no cherub face to usurp the foremost place in his affections, no "ladye love," with form however beautiful, to become the reigning, mistress of his house and hearth until that beloved sister of his youth had secured a dearer, better home. Besides, under any circumstances, he was not such a fool as to think of marrying for many a year yet; a pretty business it would be if over the dingy pages of Blackstone, and the year book, was for ever flitting the bewitching, radiant face of Carrie Elliott.