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b。 It is on the very verge of the lakehard； level； rocky； with low stone bridges constantly flung across it； and fringed with birch trees； just then budding into spring； behind which； as through a slight veil； you saw the huge shadowy form of Ben Lomond。 It lifts its enormous but graceful bulk direct from the edge of the water without any projecting lowlands； and has in this respect much the advantage of Skiddaw。 Loch Lomond comes upon you by degrees as you advance； unfolding and then withdrawing its conscious beauties like an accomplished coquet。 You are struck with the point of a rock； the arch of a bridge； the Highland huts （like the first rude habitations of men） dug out of the soil； built of turf； and covered with brown heather； a sheep…cote； some straggling cattle feeding half…way down a precipice； but as you advance farther on； the view expands into the perfection of lake scenery。 It is nothing （or your eye is caught by nothing） but water； earth； and sky。 Ben Lomond waves to the right； in its simple majesty； cloud…capt or bare； and descending to a point at the head of the lake； shews the Trossacs beyond； tumbling about their blue ridges like woods waving； to the left is the Cobler； whose top is like a castle shattered in pieces and nodding to its ruin； and at your side rise the shapes of round pastoral hills； green； fleeced with herds； and retiring into mountainous bays and upland valleys； where solitude and peace might make their lasting home； if peace were to be found in solitude！ That it was not always so； I was a sufficient proof； for there was one image that alone haunted me in the midst of all this sublimity and beauty； and turned it to a mockery and a dream！
The snow on the mountain would not let us ascend； and being weary of waiting and of being visited by the guide every two hours to let us know that the weather would not do； we returned； you homewards； and I to London
〃Italiam； Italiam！〃
You know the anxious expectations with which I set out：now hear the result
As the vessel sailed up the Thames； the air thickened with the consciousness of being near her； and I 〃heaved her name pantingly forth。〃 As I approached the house； I could not help thinking of the lines
〃How near am I to a happiness； That earth exceeds not！ Not another like it。 The treasures of the deep are not so precious As are the conceal'd comforts of a man Lock'd up in woman's love。 I scent the air Of blessings when I come but near the house。 What a delicious breath true love sends forth！ The violet…beds not sweeter。 Now for a welcome Able to draw men's envies upon man： A kiss now that will hang upon my lip； As sweet as morning dew upon a rose； And full as long！〃
I saw her； but I saw at the first glance that there was something amiss。 It was with much difficulty and after several pressing intreaties that she was prevailed on to come up into the room； and when she did； she stood at the door； cold； distant； averse； and when at length she was persuaded by my repeated remonstrances to come and take my hand； and I offered to touch her lips； she turned her head and shrunk from my embraces； as if quite alienated or mortally offended。 I asked what it could mean？ What had I done in her absence to have incurred her displeasure？ Why had she not written to me？ I could get only short； sullen； disconnected answers； as if there was something labouring in her mind which she either could not or would not impart。 I hardly knew how to bear this first reception after so long an absence； and so different from the one my sentiments towards her merited； but I thought it possible it might be prudery （as I had returned without having actually accomplished what I went about） or that she had taken offence at something in my letters。 She saw how much I was hurt。 I asked her； 〃If she was altered since I went away？〃〃No。〃 〃If there was any one else who had been so fortunate as to gain her favourable opinion？〃〃No； there was no one else。〃 〃What was it then？ Was it any thing in my letters？ Or had I displeased her by letting Mr。 P know she wrote to me？〃〃No； not at all； but she did not apprehend my last letter required any answer； or she would have replied to it。〃 All this appeared to me very unsatisfactory and evasive； but I could get no more from her； and was obliged to let her go with a heavy； foreboding heart。 I however found that C was gone； and no one else had been there； of whom I had cause to be jealous。〃Should I see her on the morrow？〃〃She believed so； but she could not promise。〃 The next morning she did not appear with the breakfast as usual。 At this I grew somewhat uneasy。 The little Buonaparte； however； was placed in its old position on the mantelpiece； which I considered as a sort of recognition of old times。 I saw her once or twice casually； nothing particular happened till the next day； which was Sunday。 I took occasion to go into the parlour for the newspaper； which she gave me with a gracious smile； and seemed tolerably frank and cordial。 This of course acted as a spell upon me。 I walked out with my little boy； intending to go and dine out at one or two places； but I found that I still contrived to bend my steps towards her； and I went back to take tea at home。 While we were out； I talked to William about Sarah； saying that she too was unhappy； and asking him to make it up with her。 He said； if she was unhappy； he would not bear her malice any more。 When she came up with the tea…things； I said to her； 〃William has something to say to youI believe he wants to be friends。〃 On which he said in his abrupt； hearty manner； 〃Sarah； I'm sorry if I've ever said anything to vex you〃so they shook hands； and she said； smiling affably〃THEN I'll think no more of it！〃 I added〃I see you've brought me back my little Buonaparte〃She answered with tremulous softness〃I told you I'd keep it safe for you！〃as if her pride and pleasure in doing so had been equal； and she had； as it were； thought of nothing during my absence but how to greet me with this proof of her fidelity on my return。 I cannot describe her manner。 Her words are few and simple； but you can have no idea of the exquisite； unstudied； irresistible graces with which she accompanies them； unless you can suppose a Greek statue to smile； move； and speak。 Those lines in Tibullus seem to have been written on purpose for her
Quicquid agit quoquo vestigil vertit； Componit furtim； subsequiturque decor。
Or what do you think of those in a modern play； which might actually have been composed with an eye to this little trifler…
〃See with what a waving air she goes Along the corridor。 How like a fawn！ Yet statelier。 No sound （however soft） Nor gentlest echo telleth when she treads； But every motion of her shape doth seem Hallowed by silence。 So did Hebe grow Among the gods a paragon！ Away； I'm grown The very fool of Love！〃
The truth is； I never saw anything like her； nor I never shall again。 How then do I console myself for the loss of her？ Shall I tell you； but you will not mention it again？ I am foolish enough to believe that she and I； in spite of every thing； shall be sitting together over a sea…coal fire； a comfortable good old couple； twenty years