THE FLORAL TELEGRAPH. 63 
forth, in due season, their fruits of 
bitterness and death. 
“ This was the case between the 
Belamours of Astleton and those of 
the beautiful demesne, upon which 
I have now resided nearly three hun¬ 
dred years. It is true, I am aweary 
of the spot, yet do I love it in all its 
wildness. But my heart pants to be 
once again among my Violet-beds in 
sweet Italy ; but, till you, Mr. Ho¬ 
neycomb, have filled up the blank in 
the page of the book of fate attached 
to this house, I shall not be at liberty 
to depart. Think not that I intend 
to forsake this spot for ever. No ! 
when the doom is accomplished, and 
