So at least have I read, Madeline, and so marked in others.

For myself, I knew nothing of love in its reality till I knew you.

But who can know you, and not sympathise with him who has lost you ?" "Ah, Eugene! you at least overrate the influence which love produces on men.

A little resentment and a little absence will soon cure my cousin of an ill-placed and ill-requited attachment.

You do not think how easy it is to forget." "Forget!" said Aram, stopping abruptly; "Ay, forget--it is a strange truth! we do forget! the summer passes over the furrow, and the corn springs up; the sod forgets the flower of the past year; the battle-field forgets the blood that has been spilt upon its turf; the sky forgets the storm; and the water the noon-day sun that slept upon its bosom.