"She is in her own room. I have persuaded her, by some occupation, to withdraw her mind from a too close and consequently painful contemplation of the distressing circumstances in which she feels herself placed."
"You are right. What occupation best pleases her?"
"The pages of romance once had a charm for her gentle spirit."
"Then come with me, and, from among the few articles I brought with me here, I can find some papers which may help her to pass some merry hours."
Charles took Henry to his room, and, unstrapping a small valise, he took from it some manuscript papers, one of which he handed to Henry, saying—
"Give that to her: it contains an account of a wild adventure, and shows that human nature may suffer much more—and that wrongfully too—than came ever under our present mysterious affliction."
"I will," said Henry; "and, coming from you, I am sure it will have a more than ordinary value in her eyes."
"I will now," said Charles, "seek my uncle. I will tell him how I love her; and at the end of my narration, if he should not object, I would fain introduce her to him, that he might himself see that, let what beauty may have met his gaze, her peer he never yet met with, and may in vain hope to do so."
"You are partial, Charles."
"Not so. 'Tis true I look upon her with a lover's eyes, but I look still with those of truthful observation."