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240 from Rosilia's uplifted eloquent eye, containing all of human loveliness, and in its celestial grace apparently so full of anxious solicitude for himself; yet, however vivifying its effect, it could not disperse those mournful images, crowding upon his ideas, arising from the singularity of his untoward destiny—that strange fatality intervening between him and happiness, encompassing him by a reserve so myeteriousmysterious [sic], and so wholly foreign to his natural character: "Time," thought he, "will discover what I now feel myself bound in honour to conceal."

If Douglas had been less open to compassion, sympathy, and humanity; had he been, on the contrary, wholly absorbed in his own self-interests and gratifications, his heart might still have vibrated to a sense of joy; prompted by his ardent sentiments, he might have offered himself a second time to Rosilia, been accepted, and thus have insured to himself the hand of her so much beloved. But no, placing himself in the situation of Harcourt, he generously entered into the nature of his feelings; he was acquainted with his enthusiastic character, and, above all, he had received his friendly confidence: the fervent soul of his friend had been poured into his bosom, and his last parting exclamation on the shores of India had been, "Should you meet with the object of my idolatry, speak to her of me, use your interest for me."

Such words continuing to sound upon his ears, what, therefore, remained for him but a total