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276 to be detected by a passionate sympathy; for poetry is the language set apart for love." "Ah, how true that is!" exclaimed Ethel, stopping short, and colouring at the idea of betraying that secret which, though the soul's dearest mystery, is never kept from others. "But this brief abode in fairy-land is dearly purchased," continued Sir Jasper; "too late we find that the dominion of another is an iron rule. We doubt, we fear, we dread, only to be at last—how bitterly—undeceived! We find that truth is a mockery; and confidence but a laying bare of the heart to the beak of the vulture. We are mortified because we have been duped, and that by means of our kindliest affections; hence we grow suspicious. Our feelings are checked, and we are afraid of their indulgence—why give weapons against our own peace? Hence, we become cold, doubtful, stern,—how are the elements of happiness departed from us! It is life's first lesson, and its severest; we shall never suffer so bitterly again, because we can never more