In certain points of view, my Gabrielle, jealousy is undoubtedly the strongest proof of an indelicate mind. Yet, if I mistake not, the delicate, the divine Leonora, is liable to this terrestrial passion. Yesterday evening, as I was returning from a _stroll_ in the park with Mr. L----, we met Leonora; and methought she looked embarrassed at meeting us. Heaven knows there was not the slightest occasion for embarrassment, and I could not avoid being surprised at such weakness, I had almost said folly, in a woman of Leonora’s sense, especially as she knows how my heart is attached. In the first moments of our intimacy my confidence was unbounded, as it ever is in those I love. Aware as I was of the light in which the prejudices of her education and her country make her view such connexions, yet I scrupled not, with the utmost candour, to confess the unfortunate attachment which had ruled my destiny. After this confidence, do not suspicion and jealousy on her part appear strange? Were Mr. L---- and I shut up for life in the same prison, were we left together upon a desert island, were we alone in the universe, I could never think of him. And Leonora does not see this! How the passions obscure and degrade the finest understandings! But perhaps I do her injustice, and she felt nothing of what her countenance expressed. It is certain, however, that she was silent for some moments after she joined us, from what cause she knows best--so was Mr. L----, I suppose from English awkwardness--so was I, from pure astonishment. At length, in pity of Leonora, I broke the silence. I had recourse to the beauties of nature. “What a heavenly evening!” said I. “We have been listening to the songs of the birds, enjoying this fresh breeze of nature’s perfumes.” Leonora said something about the superiority of nature’s perfumes to those of art; and observed, “how much more agreeable the smell of flowers appears in the open air than in confined rooms!” Whilst she spoke she looked at her husband, as she continually does for assent and approbation. He assented, but apparently without knowing what he was saying; and only by one of his English monosyllables. I alone was at ease. “Can any thing be more beautiful,” continued I, looking back, “than the soft mellow foliage of those woods, and the exquisite tints of their rich colouring? What delicious melancholy such an evening spreads over the heart!--what reflections!--what recollections!--Oh, Leonora, look at the lights upon that mountain, and the deep shadows upon the lake below. Just such scenes have I admired, by such have I been entranced in Switzerland.” Leonora put her arm within mine--she seemed to have no objection to my thoughts going back to Switzerland--I sighed--she pressed my hand affectionately--I wiped the starting tear from my eye. Mr. L---- looked at me with something like surprise whilst I repeated involuntarily,