Relieved by this thorough explanation, and by the conviction that her father, mother, and sister, were perfectly satisfied with her decision, Rosamond was at ease as far as she herself was concerned. But she still dreaded to see Mr. Gresham again. She was excessively sorry to have given him pain, and she feared not a little that in rejecting the lover she should lose the friend. Mr. Gresham, however, was of too generous a character to cease to be the friend of the woman he loved, merely because she could not return his passion: it is wounded pride, not disappointed affection, that turns immediately from love to hatred. Rosamond was spared the pain of seeing Mr. Gresham again at this time, for he left the Hills, and set out immediately for London, where he was recalled by news of the sudden death of his partner. Old Mr. Panton had been found dead in his bed, after having supped inordinately the preceding night upon eel-pie. It was indispensably necessary that Mr. Gresham should attend at the opening of Panton’s will, and Mrs. Panton wrote to represent this in urgent terms. Mr. Henry was gone to Amsterdam; he had, for some time previously to the death of Mr. Panton, obtained the partnership’s permission to go over to the Dutch merchants, their correspondents in Amsterdam, to fill a situation in their house, for which his knowledge of the Dutch, French, and Spanish languages eminently qualified him. When Mr. Henry had solicited this employment, Mr. Gresham had been unwilling to part with him, but had yielded to the young man’s earnest entreaties, and to the idea that this change would, in a lucrative point of view, be materially for Mr. Henry’s advantage. Some apology to the lovers of romance may be expected for this abrupt transition from the affairs of the heart to the affairs of the counting-house--but so it is in real life. We are sorry, but we cannot help it--we have neither sentiments nor sonnets, ready for every occasion. CHAPTER XXII. LETTER FROM ALFRED. _This appears to have been written some months after the vacation spent at the Hills_. ‘Oh! thoughtless mortals, ever blind to fate, Too soon dejected, and too soon elate.’