"Oh! generous—excellent-hearted—noble-minded man," exclaimed Georgiana; "and is your love for me indeed so strong as this?"
"Can you doubt it, dearest?" said the Earl. "If so—tell me how I can prove its sincerity?"
"Have you not given me a proof the most convincing that man can give to woman?" asked Lady Hatfield, concealing her blushing countenance on Arthur's breast. "Are you not content to receive as your wife one who——"
"No more—no more!" exclaimed the Earl, tenderly hushing her words with kisses. "Have we not agreed never again to allude to that topic?"
"But one word, Arthur," said Georgiana: "only one word! Who could have acquainted you——"
"Your uncle, dearest," answered Lord Ellingham;—"that excellent man who has been mainly instrumental in procuring me the happiness which I now enjoy!"
"My uncle!" murmured Lady Hatfield, her soul subdued with astonishment of the most overwhelming nature.
But the Earl's ears caught not the repetition of his answer; neither did he notice the effect which it produced upon Georgiana;—for her head was pillowed upon his breast—his hand clasped hers—her fine form leant against him—and he had no thought save of the pure but intoxicating happiness which he now enjoyed.
Oh, Love! thou art the sweetest charm of life—the dearest solace in this sphere of trial and vicissitude—the sentiment that, shining on us as a star, adds the most refulgent brightness to our lot. Ambition never imparted consolation to the breaking spirit, and places no curb on the wild passions and insatiable vices which too often dominate the human heart. Wealth makes its possessor envied, but also encourages the daring of the robber, or sharpens the knife of the murderer who seeks to grasp it. Honours engender hatred in the breasts of those who once were friends. Pleasure is bought by gold, and must be paid for over and over again by the health. Genius is a consuming fire: like the spur to the gallant steed, it urges its votary on, but draws the life-blood in the act. Glory is the eruption of the volcano—bright, majestic, and resplendent to gaze upon—yet bearing death in its halo. But thou, O Love! art the star which beams brighter as the gloom of this cold and selfish world becomes darker:—thou art the sunshine of the soul—teaching man to emulate the gentleness, the resignation, and the holy devotion of woman—and raising woman but one remove from the nature of angels!