Through the bosom of this glen slowly meandered along a mountain stream, (in winter a torrent,) whose devious course was distinctly outlined by an accompanying range of alder trees, that in double columns densely shaded its winding banks.
In the back ground, veiled in dark neutral tint, arose a craggy mountain, whose base was richly dotted with groves of larch and spruce. Prominently in the fore-ground was situated the Duke's hunting lodge, which, as we have already said, was denominated Lætely Abbey. This structure was built in the style of architecture of the family mansions of the Elizabethan period. An extensive lake, supplied by a copious mountain stream, presented itself in front of the house, until, winding onward, it was lost amid the adjoining woods. Close by was a deer-park, well enclosed, and numerously stocked with deer, some of whom gregariously reposed, while others were seen trooping through the dense woods, and gazing at the passing stranger, which added interest and a picturesque beauty to the scene.
But the pride, grace, and ornament of Lætely Abbey was to be found in the attractive and lovely Adelaide, who had now entered upon her fifteenth year—so rapidly onward does time advance. Indeed it was no flattery to say, that Adelaide was most truly engaging in her manners. Her statue would have graced the design of Phidias or Praxiteles; her lovely and expressive countenance captivated every beholder; the rose of youth was upon her cheek, and her skin was fair and pure as the unsunned lily; her dark blue eyes sparkled intelligence, beaming beneath her beautifully arched eye-brows. Her look, gesture, and demeanour, communicated joy; and we shall not deny a parental pride to the Duke and Duchess, at the same time, that her looks beamed forth delight upon all who beheld her; while her converse, sustained with a voice sweet, distinct, and melodious, charmed every listening ear. Her manners were unaffected, as they were natural, and all was silence when she spoke. Her figure was graceful, as we have before noticed, and beautifully and finely proportioned. When animated by discourse her features seemed to be lighted up by almost celestial fire; her brilliant eyes sparkled bright as the native diamond, and her entire countenance became irresistibly charming.
To those of inferior rank her deportment was kind and unassuming, and down to the lowest domestic she was beloved, for they felt and knew that her delight was to protect those beneath her power, and not to tyrannise over them.
With an ardent and sanguine admiration of the beauties of nature, Adelaide too possessed an enthusiastic love of literature, conjoined to a correctly formed and delicately refined taste. Every day her mind expanded, from the literary lore which she imbibed, and gradually, but extensively, her brilliant talents developed their powers. Poetry, painting, and music, principally fascinated, as they are ever wont to do, the feeling and romantic mind of youth. Some of those impressions thus elicited Adelaide was occasionally in the habit of committing to writing. One day, while some workmen of the Duke were employed in breaking up ground upon the confines of an ancient, but neglected cemetery, which surrounded a small dilapidated church, stationed on a green and rising knoll, whose ruinous walls were thickly overspread with ivy, while the alder, holly, and thorn, had stoutly installed them-selves in what had been once the chancel—it happened that, upon digging at the foot of an ancient thorn, they threw up a human skull, which the Duke caused immediately to be reinterred in the same spot; and within no distant space of time a tombstone was prepared to surmount the grave, upon which was duly chiselled a crucifix, with the usual accompaniments of a death's head, &c., and having called upon his daughter's muse for some lines to be inscribed thereon, the interesting Adelaide wrote the following, which was sculptured upon the tomb:—
INSCRIPTION.
Rest here in peace beneath this ancient thorn! Perhaps thou once didst rural life adorn, And raised thy hopes to heaven in yonder aisle: Now droops thy relick nigh yon ruin'd pile! Still peaceful rest beneath thy parent earth, Until awakened to a nobler birth!