CHAPTER II.

"To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,
Where things that own not man's dominion dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been;
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold;
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean;
This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold

Converse with Nature's charms, and view her
stores unroll'd.

"But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,

And roam along the world's tired denizen,

With none who bless us, none whom we can bless;
Minions of splendour shrinking from distress!
None that with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less
Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought and sued;
This is to be alone; this, this is solitude."

BYRON.

TERESA's health and strength were now quite re-established, and even had not her stay with

the amiable family who had tended her with so much care, been rendered impracticable by the late events, she would not longer have trespassed on their hospitality.

She possessed that noble independence of spirit which cannot brook the continued reception of unrequited benefits, when its own exertions can suffice for support, and the moment her strength returned, she resolved to seek some employment by which she might subsist respectably.

Her heart yearned towards her native land; she would fain have returned to it once more, and passed the remainder of her days under its changeable skies. But this was unattainable; and with many a sigh and regret she resigned herself to see her country no more.

The sunny heavens, the deep blue firmament, the glassy waters, the lofty mountains, the fertile plains, the delicious climate of Italy, were all appreciated and enjoyed by her, yet she would often think longingly of the quiet, cultivated beauty of dear England, and feel how willingly

she would exchange all this loveliness for its colder climate.

No one can fully comprehend the love of country till they have been long banished to a foreign land, and have abandoned all hope of again breathing their native air. They then discover a thousand charms in their retrospective view of it, which they had never before observed: the sound of its language falling casually on their ears, thrills through them, and makes their hearts bound; the accidental meeting with a compatriot brings a friendly glow into their cheeks, and they greet him with warm delight; and when they see a ship bound for that loved country, leaving the shore on which they stand, and watch its course till it fades from their sight, and picture to themselves its arrival at home, and the cordial smiles welcoming its passengers, the graspings of hands, the embraces, the tears of joy, their hearts swell with emotion, and they turn mournfully from the contemplation.

Teresa had expressed her wish of finding employment, to the farmer's family; and im

mediately upon ascertaining her intention of leaving them, Maria had written to her aunt, who kept the seminary in Como, mentioning Teresa's desire of obtaining some situation, and speaking highly of her attainments.

Her aunt wrote back to say, that she had just received an application from an English family who were in want of an accomplished governess, and therefore, if Teresa felt herself competent to the undertaking, she would recommend her.

Maria shewed her aunt's letter to Teresa, who immediately accepted the offer, and fixed a day for her first interview with the English lady.

The day at length arrived, and Carlo had arranged to drive Teresa into Como, and remain there till she had ascertained her fate.

Before her departure, which might prove final, Teresa visited every spot in the immediate vicinity of the farm, and lastly she went to her child's grave, and wept on it for the last time. She then took an affectionate leave of the worthy family, and, with a heavy heart, stepped

into the char-à bancs, which was to be driven by

Carlo.

She arrived safely in Como, and was set down at the school, where Carlo's sister received her with cordial kindness, and gave her the address of the English family.

Teresa then sallied forth to the appointed place, and finding herself, for the first time, walking alone through the streets of a town, the desolation of her situation recurred forcibly to her mind, and she was every moment compelled to wipe away the tears which blinded

her.

At length she reached the house, and, having inquired of a tall, saucy, powdered footman for his mistress, she was left standing in the hall, whilst he went up stairs to deliver her

message.

What a different situation was this from any in which she had ever before been placed. She thought of her father's careful tenderness, her late splendour as the wife of Sir Edward St. John,