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able for a view of the scenery in the neighbourhood, for during two or three days after their arrival, it continued to rain with little intermission. Every one, of course, judges of a place from the circumstances under which they see it; it rained, and Charles thought Geneva very dull. Even after that was over, and the blue sky shone out clear, either the first im pression remained in some degree, or he was fastidious, for though (as he told Mr. Wilmot) he tried very hard to admire it, he could not do so as much as people in general do. The country round he owned was certainly very pretty; and in addition to picturesque beauty, the long winding shores of the lake offered to his eyes the charm of novelty ; but the town, he contended, was detestable in every respect. He was destined to see the elegant vineyards of Italy before he beheld the more productive ones of France, for at the time of his journey they were out of leaf. At best, a French vineyard does but


look like a congregation of large currant bushes; and in the state he saw them, they resembled nothing so much as gardens full of skeletons.

“ Geneva is very interesting, in a historical point of view, at least,” said Mr. Wilmot, in answer to Charles's abuse of that city, which he had not spared; "not from its having furnished the actors or the scene of any great political event, but its name is connected with so many, and it so long maintained its independence, in the midst of powerful and ambitious neighbours, that we feel a kind of respect for it on that account.”

“ That is true, certainly,” answered Charles ; " but one thing I have never been able to account for, and that is, how, for so many ages, Geneva has been the resort, or, if I may so call it, the vortex of learned men, where many of them have sought a kind of voluntary exile."

Mr. Wilmot was about to answer, when a servant brought him a sealed packet.

“ How


“ How did this come?” demanded he; “ I thought the post was come in ?"

" It was by an express, sir,” answered the man, “who says he had an extra franc a league to make haste.”

Mr. Wilmot opened the packet,' and read: The first letter that it contained made his cheek turn deadly pale, as he perused its contents; and getting up, he rang the bell violently.--" Charles,” said he, “ I must leave you for a few days. I must go to Paris immediately.”.

“ I hope nothing distressing has happened,” said Charles with interest, for Mr. Wilmot's kindness had bound him strongly to his heart.

Yes, indeed,” answered his friend, something most distressing; but for God's sake tell the man to get me a carriage from the remise, and have horses put to it, while I read this other letter.”

Oh, you will take my carriage, of course,” replied Mr. Melville.

6 I will go with you. I cannot think of your tra




you have

velling by yourself in such a state of mind.”

“ Do not think of it, Charles-do not think of it,” said the other; broken the spell once, and indeed you ought not to go back again.” He now opened the other letter, and, after reading a few lines, he clasped his hands together

_" Thank God!” he ejaculated fervently -“thank God! I could scarcely have borne that stroke. It is not so bad as I thought,” he continued to Charles. “But I must go, nevertheless. Will you want the carriage ?”

“ Not in the least,” replied Charles, “ I can assure you; and since you think I had better not


I will run about this part of the country in your absence, and shall have seen all the sights by the time you come back.”

“I shall soon return,” answered his companion ; " for most likely I shall not stay above two days in Paris at the far


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thest. You know I am quick in my movements."

In the space of an hour Mr. Wilmot was ready to depart, and proceeded on his journey towards Paris; while Charles, after thinking over the circumstances in a variety of ways, to ascertain what could be the occasion of his sudden departure, gave it up in despair. If it had been to England he had proposed to go, a thousand pretty theories might have been raised, for there, of course, he had many friends and relations; but in Paris, where he seemed to have been interested in no one, what could be his urgent business there? Could it be any way connected with the baroness? That was the only thing he could think of; but in what way it could be so, he was unable to divine; and so he gave that up too, and set off to make a tour round the lake, to Lausanne and Chillon.

For the first few hours after Mr. Wilmot was gone, Charles Melville did not


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