A Novel.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

BY

INNES HOOLE, Esq.

"Love's the tyrant of the heart,

Full of mischief-full of woe;
All his joys are mix'd with smart;

Thorns beneath his roses grow:
And serpent-like he stings the breast,
Where he is harbour'd and caress'd."

VOL. I.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR

A. K. NEWMAN AND CO. LEADENHALL-STREET.

1821.

SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE

CHAPTER I.

But poverty with most, who whimper forth
Their long complaints, is self-inflicted woe;
The effect of laziness or sottish waste.

COWPER.

No more my robes in waving purple flow,
Nor on my hand the sparkling diamonds glow;
No more my locks in ringlets curl'd diffuse
The costly sweetness of Arabian dews,
Nor braids of gold the varied tresses bind,
That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind.

POPE.

"OH, Mr. Bouverie! when will this miserable day be over?" exclaimed the pretty slip-shod companion of his exile, on counting the loud tones of the castle VOL. I. clock

B

clock as it struck the hour of five. "I really thought it had been six. This is intolerable! 'tis surely the monster's age that makes it tread so slow. See!" turning to her husband, "how much better this dear little treasure of a watch knows how to behave! The French certainly understand these things; see, how nearly it is six !"

Why not make it six at once," replied Mr. Bouverie, yawning, "since you move it on at pleasure?"

"Pleasure!" interrupted Mrs. Bouverie, "pleasure-name not the word; it makes me ill. Talk of water to a mad dog-cross-bones and skulls to a hypochondriac-operas--But I will have dinner; it is the only means of saving me from desperation."

"You had better in future order it at this hour," quietly observed her husband," and I would advise, as a double spur to time, that you should endeavour to enforce on the comprehension of Mrs. Watkins

66

Watkins the necessity there is of providing two dinners - blest sources of amusement! whilst this rainy weather continues."

The old steward, followed by the only servant the castle contained, now appeared, bearing in the dinner; and never had crowded assembly been attended by Mrs. Bouverie with so much avidity as was this repast. Not that she was a gourmande-that would have been delightful. No! fate seemed to torment her in every shape! but still it was something to do-something to pass away time.

A silence of half-an-hour was at length interrupted by Mrs. Bouverie sighing"Oh that things should come to this! breakfast, dinner, supper, that I have looked on as necessary evils-torments, that inevitably must come to separate one's pleasures-that breakfast, dinner,

supper,

B 2