But Theodore’s grief was too fresh to ad­mit the thought of an­other love; and it was not un­til after fre­quent dis­courses with Isa­bella of his dear Mat­ilda, that he was per­suaded he could know no hap­pi­ness but in the so­ci­ety of one with whom he could forever in­dulge the mel­an­choly that had taken pos­ses­sion of his soul.