the blind, scented as it passed with the rich flowers of the balcony,—while through the rooms floated that soft twilight which curtains can make even of noon. They were filled with graceful trifles for the fancy,—and a few noble pictures, an alabaster statue or two, a few exquisitely carved marble vases, to excite the imagination; while the vista ended in a conservatory, where the rose—a summer queen—held her rainbow court of jonquils, tulips, and the thousand-flowered and leaved geranium, but still supreme herself in beauty and sweetness.
Emily was seated at a harp, trying some new ballads; so there was just music enough to haunt the ear with sweet sounds, but not to distract the attention; while an occasional verse of gentle expression awoke, ever and anon, some pleasant or touching memory.
The ground, the table near Edward, were covered with novels enough to have realised even Gray's idea of Paradise. How unlucky some people are? Gray was just born an age too soon. How would he have luxuriated in the present day! Andrews' or Hookham's counter would have been "the crystal bar" which led to his garden of Eden, and the marble-covered tomes the Houries of his solitude.
