congenial harmony of her mind; nature seemed exhausted of her treasures, all seemed changed, all spoke the language of complaint and lamentation.
The flowers, hitherto accustomed to receive culture from her hand, no longer emitted their wonted perfume, but became withered and scattered, as by the blighting blasts of winter. Her harp was but seldom touched, except to indulge her grief with those airs that recalled Philimore to her fancy.
Those sentiments, however, with which Oriana was affected, though they checked her natural gaiety of temper, seemed to incline more to calmness and resignation, than those sad and acute feelings often preying upon her sister's heart. For with Rosilia, to the regret of the past and self-accusation, was added the contemplation of a dark futurity, seldom affording a gleam of hope to cheer and solace her disquietude.
With Oriana it was otherwise. It is true her spirits sunk at times, but she drooped like a fair flower in the interval elapsing between a passing mist, and the sun's renovating heat. She could look forward to brighter days, and indulge in the cheering prospect of seeing her present painful separation terminated by an indissoluble union with its object. Such anticipation of future hap-
