nothing of them.

From these, Emmeline turned in despair to some others of more modern
appearance; which, tho' they also had suffered from the dampness of the
room, and in some parts were almost effaced with mould, were yet
generally legible. Among them, were Spencer and Milton, two or three
volumes of the Spectator, an old edition of Shakespeare, and an odd
volume or two of Pope.

These, together with some tracts of devotion, which she knew would be
very acceptable to Mrs. Carey, she cleaned by degrees from the dust with
which they were covered, and removed into the housekeeper's room; where
the village carpenter accommodated her with a shelf, on which, with
great pride of heart, she placed her new acquisitions.

The dismantled windows, and broken floor of the library, prevented her
continuing there long together: but she frequently renewed her search,
and with infinite pains examined all the piles of books, some of which
lay tumbled in heaps on the floor, others promiscuously placed on the
shelves, where the swallow, the sparrow, and the daw, had found
habitations for many years: for as the present proprietor had determined
to lay out no more than was absolutely necessary to keep one end of the
castle habitable, the library, which was in the most deserted part of
it, was in a ruinous state, and had long been entirely forsaken.

Emmeline, however, by her unwearied researches, nearly completed several
sets of books, in which instruction and amusement were happily blended.
From them she acquired a taste for poetry, and the more ornamental parts
of literature; as well as the grounds of that elegant and useful
knowledge, which, if it rendered not her life happier, enabled her to
support, with the dignity of conscious worth, those undeserved evils
with which many of her years were embittered.

Mrs. Carey, now far advanced in life, found her infirmities daily
increase. She was often incapable of leaving her chamber for many weeks;
during which Emmeline attended her with the solicitude and affection of
a daughter; scorned not to perform the most humble offices that
contributed to her relief; and sat by her whole days, or watched her
whole nights, with the tenderest and most unwearied assiduity.

On those evenings in summer, when her attendance could for a few hours
be dispensed with, she delighted to wander among the rocks that formed
the bold and magnificent boundary of the ocean, which spread its immense
expanse of water within half a mile of the castle. Simply dressed, and
with no other protection than Providence, she often