One balmy evening in May, when he and his young countess were driving
out alone together, which they sometimes did, that she might have the
delight of showing to him the varied rural environs of the great and
gay royal city of England, the carriage, by her direction, took its
course towards Primrose Hill, then crowned by a grove of "fair elm-
trees," and clothed with a vesture of green sward, enamelled with
wild flowers. Thence the light vehicle threaded a maze of shady lanes
and pleasant field-paths, into a rustic, newly-made road, leading a
little to the north of Covent Garden. [Footnote: All this has since
become Regent's Park and its dependencies, whether streets or
squares.]
Mary proposed stopping a few minutes in that magnificent general
garden of the town, to purchase a bouquet of early roses, to present
to Sir Robert on their return from their drive.
When the carriage drew up at the entrance of the great parterre, she
stepped out to select them. Having quickly combined their fragrant
beauties, she put the nosegay into the hand of one of the servants to
place on the seat. Being nigh the church porch, she suddenly
expressed a wish to her husband, on whose arm she leaned, to walk
through the church-yard, and that the carriage should meet them at
the opposite gate.
Thaddeus, not being aware that this porch belonged to the church
where his veteran friend had been buried, gave instant assent; and
before he had time to make more than a few remarks on the pure
religious architecture of the building, which he thought had
attracted his tasteful bride to take a nearer view, she had led him
unconsciously to the general's grave.
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