During the night which followed the grand dinner given by Sir George Aimwell, Robert Darnley scarcely slept a single hour. He retired to his apartment full of bitter and distracting thoughts, almost tempted to believe that there was truth in the foul libels that thoughtless blockheads have uttered and written concerning the gentler sex. He said to himself, "Frailty! thy name is woman." He was so grieved, so pierced to the heart's core, that he forgot for a while all that he had heard, read, or witnessed of woman's devout affection, unwearied kindness, heroic attachment, and moral sublimity. And he thought not of the patience with which woman bears the peevishness of our infancy, the selfishness of our riper years, and the capricious fretfulness of our declining age. He was for a while angry and contemptuous, professing to himself an indifference which he did not feel, and fancying himself superior to that weakness under which he was writhing and labouring in bitter agony. Then there was a change in the complexion of his thoughts, and as the angry passions yielded to the approaching drowsiness which health must periodically experience, more tender and more gentle thoughts subdued him. The eyelids were scarcely closed, when imagination threw her rainbow light on past days, and there stood before him, not quite in a dream, the image of Penelope--lovely, bright, and living. The momentary vision melted him, and the effort to retain it banished it. Slowly his slumbers crept again upon him, and the vision was more distinct, and he could hear again that sweet voice with which he had been enraptured, and there was in his heart a repetition of that swell of feeling with which he had years ago taken his leave of her. So passed the night. When morning came again, it found the young man unrefreshed and unrested. But in the family of the rector of Neverden there was great regularity and punctuality. Robert Darnley therefore made his appearance at breakfast at the usual hour. It was impossible not to see that his mind was painfully disturbed, and it was also equally impossible not to conjecture the cause of its agitation. A very unpleasant restraint sat upon the whole party. Mr Darnley the elder would not speak on the subject of his son's altered appearance, and Mrs Darnley and her daughters were reluctant to introduce any mention of the matter, unsanctioned by Mr Darnley. The hour of breakfast was usually to that family a season of social and cheerful talk, but on the present occasion there was silence and restraint; and as they abstained from addressing themselves to Robert, they also abstained from talking to one another. When breakfast was over Mr Darnley desired his son's presence in the study.