CHAPTER XXIII.

O let me view, in annual succession, my children, friends, and relatives. Those that in friendship's bonds are linked together by ties of dear remembrance.

The scene was highly animated, and the days were delightfully pleasant, when Alida returned with her parents to the country. The showers of April had cleared the atmosphere and revived the earth with a lively gaiety. The ice in the bay and river had melted away, and the steamboat had again began its course. The rumbling water-fall was again heard at the mill, the pensive stream stole its way through the forest, reflecting from its lucid bosom the light cloud which dwelt in the air--floating on the gentlest zephyrs. The hills and mountains teemed with verdure, and the serpentine valleys were shaded by a friendly foliage. All nature flourished, grew, and expanded, calling forth ejaculations of gratitude and piety, and boldly declaring that a celestial Being overshadows us with his providence.

As soon as the family were settled in the country, the parents of Alida made preparation to call the children together in commemoration of their father's birthday. When the time arrived for the celebration of this festive scene, the morning arose with every beauty that could bid fair for a cheerful day, and the company assembled at an early hour. Bonville was among those who arrived from the village. He appeared in excellent spirits, as if some new thought had entered his mind, which had given him new hopes of success. He informed Alida, in the course of the afternoon, that he had received intimation from a friend in England, that Theodore was now living in London. After hazarding many conjectures respecting him, he then ventured to add that he hoped he had not met there any new object, to cause him to become forgetful of former friends. Displeasure was manifest in the countenance of Alida, at this suspicion, although she feared it might be true. Theodore had promised to be faithful in a correspondence, and he certainly might have found opportunities, since the happy change of affairs in the country, to make some communications to his friends, if he had been so disposed. Again she thought, as they had been separated by parental authority, that it might have its influence to cause him to become altogether forgetful; and her spirits now sunk under the idea of Theodore's inconstancy. Bonville continued to speak of him with indifference, observing attentively how Alida was affected. He inquired earnestly if she had ever received any intelligence from him, during his absence, (as he thought he might have written to her brother.) She answered him in the negative. He expressed his surprise, and after giving many dark intimations of his perfidy, he changed the subject.

Alida was before this extremely pensive and thoughtful, and these injurious insinuations of Theodore, increased her dejection. She once firmly believed she had a friend she could lean upon under all circumstances, and his falsity appeared to her now confirmed. A kind of gloomy superstition pervaded her mind, an anxious foreboding of future evil, which all her pious reflections and reasoning powers could not wholly control. She endeavoured to repress these painful sensations, when in the presence of her parents; but the eyes of her father frequently rested on her in filial anxiety. Her brother likewise would often observe her innate sadness, and whatever his thoughts might be as to the cause, he was still reserved, and forebore to name any thing to his sister.

Although Bonville was sometimes conscious of his injustice towards Theodore, and felt ashamed of his conduct, he was still determined to proceed with reiterated calumnies, to the ear of Alida, with the hope to ensure to himself her hand before Theodore would probably return to America.

L' innocenza a e costretta a sofferire, talvolta le piu crudeli persecuzioni; ma, con vergogna e con danno della calumnia e della malvagita, alla fine pur ne trionfa.

The appearance of Bonville was imposing to look upon, his countenance illumined by seeming sincerity and candour, no one could retain an idea for any length of time, that was altogether detrimental. To a treacherous heart, he joined a frankness of manner which amused and interested every one in his favour. Though no one was ever more careless of his veracity, yet he carried the appearance of authenticity in all he said. He had never been used to restraint or disappointment, by the silly indulgence of his parents, and seemed confident that he should succeed in all his particular wishes, and thought that all obstacles could be surmounted by his own machinations and management.

The evening was drawing near its close by a round of innocent amusements, when a letter was handed Alida from her father, that he had received from a friend in the city. It contained the unwelcome and unexpected news of the death of Mr. Bolton, who arrived at Savannah at an unfavourable season of the year, at a period when an epidemic fever prevailed. He caught the infection, and a few days terminated the existence of this amiable and accomplished youth. He was pious, benevolent and charitable. He possessed a wisdom firm and unchangeable, strictly adhering to the principles of the church and the Christian religion, and was steadfast in his opinions against all opposition. He was deeply regretted by a numerous acquaintance. His aunt mourned the loss of her favourite nephew, and Alida's father likewise deplored his premature death, although he had thought proper to oppose his wishes.