“It was the very evening after this conversation, that Elinor, whose habit was to wander among the woods that surrounded the Castle unattended, met with John Sandal. It was a glorious autumnal evening, just like that on which they had first met,--the associations of nature were the same, those of the heart alone had suffered change. There is that light in an autumnal sky,--that shade in autumnal woods,--that dim and hallowed glory in the evening of the year, which is indefinably combined with recollections. Sandal, as they met, had spoken to her in the same voice of melody, and with the same heart-thrilling tenderness of manner, that had never ceased to visit her ear since their first meeting, like music in dreams. She imagined there was more than usual feeling in his manner; and the spot where they were, and which memory made populous and eloquent with the imagery and speech of other days, flattered this illusion. A vague hope trembled at the bottom of her heart,--she thought of what she dared not to utter, and yet dared to believe. They walked on together,--together they watched the last light on the purple hills, the deep repose of the woods, whose summits were still like “feathers of gold,”--together they once more tasted the confidence of nature, and, amid the most perfect silence, there was a mutual and unutterable eloquence in their hearts. The thoughts of other days rushed on Elinor,--she ventured to raise her eyes to that countenance which she once more saw “as it had been that of an angel.” The glow and the smile, that made it appear like a reflexion of heaven, were there still,--but that glow was borrowed from the bright flush of the glorious west, and that smile was for nature,--not for her. She lingered till she felt it fade with the fading light,--and a _last_ conviction striking her heart, she burst into an agony of tears. To his words of affectionate surprise, and gentle consolation, she answered only by fixing her appealing eyes on him, and agonizingly invoking his name. She had trusted to nature, and to this scene of their first meeting, to act as an interpreter between them,--and still even in despair she trusted to it. “Perhaps there is not a more agonizing moment than that in which we feel the aspect of nature give a perfect vitality to the associations of _our_ hearts, while they lie buried in those in which we try _in vain to revive them_. “She was soon undeceived. With that benignity which, while it speaks of consolation, forbids hope--with that smile which angels may be supposed to give on the last conflict of a sufferer who is casting off the garments of mortality in pain and hope--with such an expression he whom she loved regarded her. From another world he might have cast such a glance on her,--and it sealed her doom in this for ever. * * * * * * *