Penelope was glad to be liberated from the interview with her ladyship, and to enjoy for a while the solitude which her apartment afforded. An apartment had been provided for her reception in the town residence of the Earl of Smatterton; and though the ascent to it was rather laborious, yet it had the blessed comfort of affording to the troubled one an opportunity of sitting alone, and shedding a few tears, and communing with her own heart. There are some states of mind in which the sufferer feels most and greatest consolation in being left to the thoughts of solitude. There was however even in solitude nothing pleasing for Penelope to meditate upon: but hope is an artist that draws its finest scenes upon the darkest ground. Amidst all the losses which she had experienced, and the pains which she had suffered, and the dreaded anticipations of evils yet to come, still Penelope could think that her father was yet living, and might perhaps soon make his appearance in England, and fulfil those promises of which she had often indirectly heard. It was painful to her that she could not form any idea of her father. She had always regarded him as an object of compassion; for her uncle in the candour of his heart never uttered words of reproach against Mr Primrose; but, when he spoke of him, called him his poor brother, his unfortunate kinsman, and he always seemed to regard him as a victim to others’ vices and not to his own. Penelope could not form an idea of a being more fatherly than Dr Greendale had always been to her; and whenever her young ears caught the sound of sympathy or sorrow for her lot as a poor fatherless child, she denied in her own heart the applicability of such language to herself. She knew that she had a father living abroad, but she felt that a father had died at home. When, however, upon this absent living father Penelope knew that her only hope and dependence could rest, then did she with more fixedness of mind direct her thoughts and prayers thitherward. It was some consolation to her that some little time must elapse before she could by any possibility make her appearance in public; this would be some alleviation, and might perhaps produce some change. The language however which the Countess had used respecting to-morrow, seemed to indicate that some commencement of publicity was destined for her even at that early date. And this thought was a dark spot in the picture of hope. So all the bright expectations which mortals cherish, have in their foreground something harshly real and coarsely literal. Many hours however the poor deserted one did not meditate upon melancholy, or on brighter scenes. The weariness which had resulted from her long journey, and the agitation of spirits which she had suffered, were too much for her strength, and she soon sank to the silence of repose. Happy was it for her that the outlines of her destiny were but faintly traced; she scarcely knew for what mode