from the outward appearance, oft breathed a sigh for woman's faith and woman's devotion.

But the lady, in her hours of retirement, was not the careless being she seemed when many eyes were bent upon her. Ofttimes when the sun was throwing his last beams on the mountain tops, did she linger in that very spot where she last heard the manly tones of him who was now an exile, she knew not where; and last, too, wept her passionate farewell over Bianca, the foster sister, the cherished friend of her childhood and youth then, did the unrepressed tears, the utter abandonment to grief, prove, that a sorrow concealed from the world may be none the less bitter.

Of her princely father, immersed in the duties belonging to his high station, she saw little; and the maiden who succeeded Bianca, failed in her assiduous endeavors to win the confidence that had been reposed in her predecessor. One bright afternoon, as her mistress reclined on a pile of rich cushions, Lisa, the while, twining rich gems in her raven tresses, a sweet, melancholy air, came floating up from the court yard below. The lady started from her reverie

"Hearken, maiden; did you hear that strain? Methinks it is sweeter than aught I have heard these many days."

"Why, it

"And call you that rare music, lady!" replied Lisa. is one of those gloomy airs the heretics on yonder mountains, sing in their Sabbath assemblings. The poor deluded creatures! how I pity them! no gay dances, no merry-makings on Sunday eve, no recreations, save what they find in listening to the drawling of their ghost-like leaders, and singing psalms more fitting a funeral than a holiday"

It is uncertain how much longer Lisa would have continued her invectives had not the lady, with an unusual impatience of manner, interrupted her.

"Thy words please me not, maiden; for know"-and her tones grew gentle as before-"that the days of my childhood were spent in the Vaudois valleys, beneath the roof of a humble pastor. His wife was my foster mother, and his daughter, the loved companion of whom you have often heard me speak."

At this moment, a page entered, saying, that an aged man craved a few minutes audience with the Lady Florence.

"Know you aught of his errand, Adolph ?"

"His appearance bespeaks a minstrel; but he bade me say, he had rich and rare jewels, fit only for such as thee; and shouldst thou refuse his request, he bade me give thee this ring, and in truth, 'tis of exquisite workmanship."

The lady took the ring; and well was it that Lisa was too much occupied with admiring the jewel to heed at all the deathlike paleness of her young mistress."

"Bid him hither, Adolph ?"

A few minutes had elapsed, when, conducted by the page, a venerable man, attired in the rude garb of a wandering harper, entered the boudoir with low and respectful obeisance. The lady signed him to be seated, and then, with forced calmness of manner, interrogated him.

"Art thou a pilgrim, aged man ?"

"Yes, lady, I have come a long and weary way."

"Hast thou no home?"

"Nay, lady, the wandering minstrel hath no resting place on earth, and no companion save this harp: it once gave forth sweet sounds, and now methinks is scarcely injured by time."

"Thou speakest in praise of thy instrument, but hath thy skill failed in thine old age?" inquired the lady, who perceived that the minstrel wished to allay suspicion of his errand in the minds of her attendants.

"Ah, much I fear me, it hath," was the reply; "but if aught could awake to life and energy a minstrel's lyre, thy voice, noble lady, surely would prevail."

"Harper, thou hast learned flattery in courts; an air on thy harp executed as best thou art able, would please me more. Meantime, I will look over thy jewels. Adolph, bring them hither."

The page obeyed; but the minstrel was evidently disturbed by the curiosity of Lisa, who like many of her country women delighted in fine array.

"Look here! fair maiden; I have a collection, which will suit thee better."

So saying, he produced a box of fancy goods of glittering hues, though not of costly materials. Lisa took it joyfully, and retired to a distant part of the room, where she was soon joined by Adolph, and in their mirth they quickly forgot the presence of the harper. Not so the lady; her hand trembled, so she could scarce unclasp the lid; and the air poured forth by the minstrel, was in no way suited to tranquillize her feelings. As the laughter of her attendants grew louder, she motioned the harper to approach

nearer.

"Tell me, I pray you," said she, in low and agitated tones, "know you aught of the owner of this ring?"

"Yes, lady; but earthly places will soon know him no more forever. This ring he sent thee as a token of his unchanged love. And this book," continued the minstrel, as he drew from the folds of his mantle an elegantly bound volume,-"this pearl above all price, he beseeches thee to accept, as the last, best gift of a dying cousin."

The lady knew it was the Bible; but she took it with trembling hand, while her cheek was pale as freshly fallen snow.

"Dying! dying!-no, it cannot be !" she murmured faintly. "Yes, lady; death hath set its unerring signet on the brow of the Count Adrian; slowly, yet none the less surely, is he descending to the grave.

He waited for an answer; but she whom he addressed heeded him not. Grief for a moment palsied every faculty. Again he spoke. "Lady, the day is wearing on; I must forth on my way; what message shall I bear thy cousin?"

"Tell him," said she, starting from her reverie, and looking wildly around, "that I am his and his only;" then, recollecting herself, she spoke more calmly. "Rest thee here this night, harper, and to-morrow I will give thee thy message." She glanced at the window. "At earliest dawn meet me in the linden avenue; but we must say no more at present, for yonder couple have ceased their mirth, and seem watching us." She raised her voice. "Lisa, are you so soon wearied with gazing at those trifles? Take what pleases you, and then count out the gold; and you, Adolph, see that the minstrel is provided for this night; he must have repose ere he again goes forth."

That night the lady moved with careless mien through her father's halls, and when, at midnight, she regained her apartment, she found that Lisa, wearied with watching, had fallen asleep.

"Up, maiden," said she, kindly; "go to thy own couch,-I shall not need thy services at present."

Lisa was too drowsy to heed the singularity of the lady's command, and gladly obeyed. When left alone, the lady paced with irresolute step the lofty apartment; and then approaching the window, leaned her fevered cheek against the marble casement. Proud and stately as ever, looked the home of her ancestors, in that full flood of moonlight, and a momentary feeling of pride lit up her languid eye. Was it strange? Heiress of those broad domains-young, gifted, lovely-the center of a scarcely less brilliant than a royal circle-the flattered, the idolized, the truly loved was it strange that she felt the fascinations that have enthralled older and wiser ones? It was but for a moment, and memory triumphed over the ambitious thoughts of that hour. Amongst those who surrounded her, she felt that one voice, one glance, had long been wanting; and he, the nobly descended, the heaven-gifted one, he was far away, dying in a land of strangers.

"And who," she murmured, "in this hour of mortal strife, of mortal agony, should soothe the struggling, the tried spirit? who! but the cousin-the more than cousin of his love-Adrian! Adrian! surely no earthly power may dissolve the ties that have bound us. Was I not thy affianced bride; and did I not vow to love thee, and thee only, till earthly love should be chilled by the

hand of death? But they parted, they parted us; and many have deemed me light and fickle. Yes, I have worn a careless brow, when my heart was nigh to breaking. It shall be so no longer-Adrian! I will redeem my vow; I will let wealth, rank, all go, for one parting look from thee! Erring wanderer from the fold of the true church; heretic as they call thee; this shall not divide us in this awful hour."

Nor was this a mere ebullition of feeling; it was the high resolve of a high minded being. With firm hand, she traced a letter to her father, begging his forgiveness, and assured him, that she still adhered to the Catholic faith; and that love alone for her exiled, her dying cousin, led her thus to forsake father and lands. The preparations were quickly made; and ere her absence was noticed, she was far on her way.

It was near the close of a summer afternoon; and the flowerscented breeze sighed softly through the vine-leaved lattice of a mountain cottage. Beneath that humble roof, in a simple apartment, reclined an invalid; o'er whose pallid brow, gratefully swept the summer wind. He was yet in the morn of life-but the lustrous eye, and pale cheek, told that his sun was going down, ere it had reached its meridian-and perchance, it was a thought like this, that clouded his brow, as he sadly drew the folds of his dark mantle around his stately form, and looked out upon the earth, sleeping in quiet beauty, in the hush of that sum

mer sunset.

His eye fell upon the path, leading up the steep declivity towards the cottage. "Come hither, maiden;" said he, addressing a fair girl, who was busily engaged with her work in a distant part of the room; "know you yonder travellers ascending the mountain path?" The maiden replied, that she saw no one. "They are hid this moment-now look again, Bianca-they have just passed the beech grove."

"I see them," was the response; "the first one resembles the minstrel, and he should have been back ere this; but we can tell better when they approach nearer.""It is he, my lord," she replied, after a few minutes' silence. "It is the harper, but I cannot distinguish the other."

At this moment, the foremost traveller paused to assist his companion over a rocky part of the ascent; and this movement revealed the light fragile form and graceful step of youth. Bianca uttered a faint exclamation, while the hectic faded from the cheek of the invalid.

"That graceful form, scarce hid by the flowing mantle, surely it cannot be the Lady Florence! Look again, maiden; for my eyes grow dim," and overcome by mingled emotions, too strong for his feeble frame, the Count fell back, unconscious of aught around him.

It was evening when he again awoke; but his slumber had been feverish and unrefreshing, and in his eye was the lurid light of disease, while from his lips broke words wild and incoherent. He seemed wandering again in the princely halls of his relatives, and addressing her whom he had loved above all earthly friends, he murmured, "Come, Florence, leave these apartments-those lights dazzle my eyes-the moon's pale rays would suit us better. We will go forth, for your father looks coldly on me to-night; and he cursed me just now, or something whispered that he cursed me, and Florence, you look so pale, so ghastly pale, and smile not. It is those lights, those dazzling lights; or am I mad!" and the invalid pressed his hand wildly on his forehead. The taper of the cottage was now carefully concealed by Bianca; and on his ear floated full, rich tones, but they were not the tones of the Vaudois maiden. There was a magic in that voice; and though it restored not reason, yet for a moment his ravings assumed a less terrific form. He thought himself once more a child, a happy careless child; and he roamed through the mountain haunts of his childhood, while the butterfly and wild flowers were again objects of pursuit, and his cousin was by his side as of yore. "Sit down on this bank, Florence, and I will twine these flowers in your hair, while you sing that sweet song our kind nurse taught us yesterday. These flowers are brightthey grew on hills made rich with the blood of martyrs-pshaw ! they have withered already, and your brow is cold, cousin. Let us hasten home-do you see that black cloud yonder? How swiftly it spreads over the sky! and this wind, how hot it is! and that deep mist gathering on the valleys! I cannot breathe ;" and the invalid sunk back exhausted, but soon raved wildly as before.

"Bianca," and these words were uttered by one kneeling beside the couch, "is there naught that can soothe him? Oh, he will pass away in one of these wild moments," and the lady sobbed like a child. The maiden drew nearer to the couch, and placing her lips close to the ear of the invalid, murmured in low tones that sweet pastoral, "The Lord is my shepherd ;" and like Hermon's dew it fell on the weary spirit and he slept.

The hours passed on; and wearily they moved to those watching beside that couch. Just as the morning was encircling with its first pale zone of light the highest mountain's brow, the slumberer awoke.

"How long have I slept, Bianca?" for in the dimness of that early hour, he recognized none other-" it seems but a moment since we watched beside the lattice, or was that too a dream, for I have had strange ones to-night, and yet I would dream them all again just to hear one voice, as I have heard it since I slept. It was sweet as ever; but oh, how low and mournful!"