CHAPTER V

Hail, mildly-pleasing Solitude! Companion of the wise and good! Thine is the balmy breath of morn, Just as the dew-bent rose is born. But chief when evening scenes decay And the faint landscape swims away, Thine is the doubtful, soft decline, And that best hour of musing thine. THOMSON Emily’s injunctions to Annette to be silent on the subject of her terror were ineffectual, and the occurrence of the preceding night spread such alarm among the servants, who now all affirmed, that they had freque…