The fair Julia was leaning on her lover's arm, listening to his
conversation, with her eyes cast down, a soft blush on her cheek, and
a quiet smile on her lips, while in the hand that hung negligently by
her side was a bunch of flowers. In this way they were sauntering
slowly along; and when I considered them and the scene in which they
were moving, I could not but think it a thousand pities that the
season should ever change, or that young people should ever grow
older, or that blossoms should give way to fruit, or that lovers
should ever get married.
From what I have gathered of family anecdote, I understand that the
fair Julia is the daughter of a favourite college friend of the
Squire; who, after leaving Oxford, had entered the army, and served
for many years in India, where he was mortally wounded in a skirmish
with the natives. In his last moments he had, with a faltering pen,
recommended his wife and daughter to the kindness of his early friend.
The widow and her child returned to England helpless and almost
hopeless. When Mr. Bracebridge received accounts of their situation,
he hastened to their relief. He reached them just in time to soothe
the last moments of the mother, who was dying of a consumption, and to
make her happy in the assurance that her child should never want a
protector.
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