Letitia Elizabeth Landon

“ With Fitzallan the day of romance was over; a man above thirty cannot enter in the wild visions of an enthusiastic girl; flattered by the attachment which Isadore's every look betrayed, he trifled with her, regardless or thoughtless of the young and innocent heart that confided so fearlessly. Love has no power to look forward—the delicious consciousness of the present, a faint but delightful shadow of the past, form its eternity; the possibility of separation never entered the mind of his Spanish love, till Fitzallan's instant return to England became necessary. ”

“ Alas, thought Isadore, while those eloquent interpreters of the feelings, a blush, sigh, and smile, mingled together—he loves not passionately as I love, or he could not trifle thus; a light compliment was never yet breathed by love. Isadore was at that age when the deeper tenderness for woman first deepens the gaiety of childhood, like the richer tine that dyes the rose as it expands into summer loveliness. ”

“ Her force was now exhausted, she sank back on the sofa. The tender assiduities of Edward at length restored her to some degree of composure. It was luxury to have her feelings entered into; to share sorrow is to soothe it. She told him of hopes blighted for ever, of wounded affection; of the heart sickness which had paled her cheek, and worn to shadow her once symmetrical form. She had in her hand a few withered leaves. "It is," said she, "the image of my fate; this rose fell from my hair one evening; Fitzallan placed it in his bosom ”