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Rh of character and to teach himself submission to the irremediable decrees of an all-wise Providence?

A thousand times the following morning Rosilia asked herself the question, "I wonder if he will really go?" Her father had walked to the Hermitage, and she looked for his return with a wistful impatience. She bent her eye constantly towards that little pathway where he would first appear on his approach to the house. She saw him at last coming, accompanied by the Doctor; her heart told her that Douglas was gone, and its beatings increased as they drew near; she would fain have flown to meet them, but her timid fears restrained her. She heard the accents of her father—

"Douglas is gone!" said he; "I was just in time to see him ere he departed."

It was sufficient,—she had heard aright; and Rosilia sat for some time plunged in the deepest meditation: at length, arousing from her reverie, that innate pride of what was due to herself, that keen susceptibility, refinement, delicacy she possessed, alternately prevailing, suppressed the sigh; the conflict had been severe: yet that thoughts of her would sometimes cross the soul of Douglas she felt a persuasion beyond the possibility of doubt,—the conviction of which arose from the faithful recollection of every look, word, gesture he had unconsciously bestowed upon her. Perhaps, when he returned from Scotland, he might be again led to visit the Hermitage. However, uncertain as was every supposition she