some time to amuse himself with strolling about the gardens. As the residence of the lovely Laurette, scenes that might otherwise have been contemplated without any extraordinary emotions, excited an interest in his breast, and he wandered about the castle, wrapped in that pleasing kind of melancholy which is peculiar to refined and cultivated minds.
Often as he paced silently the terrace-walk that led to the inner court, he turned an enquiring eye towards the upper apartments, in hopes of seeing Laurette at the casement; but she was at present invisible, and he could not forbear secretly chiding her for losing the beauty of the morning. Still anxious to beguile the moments of separation, he walked towards the western lawn, and having reached the centre, attempted to open the door of the pavilion; but it was fastened, which made him for a short time irresolute in what manner to dispose of himself.
At
