ers upon its bosom. After the
dinner was over, a dance was proposed, and the services of the
handsome stranger, as musician, were cheerfully offered and promptly
accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensia, usually crazy for
dancing, strolled pensively about with little Emma at her side, and at
length seated herself on a little grassy bank, remote from the
dancers, yet where she could overlook the scene.

There was a little pause in the dance, and Squire Deerdale approached
the stranger and whispered,

"Do you like her?"

"She's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare not hope that she would ever
love a poor vagabond like me. She deserves a prince of the blood, at
the very least."

"Never mind!--_Vedremo_, as we say in Italy;" and with a laugh the
young man bounded again into the dance, while the stranger redoubled
his attention to his guitar.

The day began to wane, and the shadows of a neighboring mountain to
creep slowly across the lea; and yet, so absorbed was that gay company
in the merry pleasures of the day, that hours glided by unnoticed; and
it was not until the round, yellow moon rose over the eastern hills,
as if peeping out to see the sun set, that they thought of breaking up
a scene of little less than enchantment.

The stranger scarcely left the side of Hortensia, who seemed
completely subdued and fascinated by the serious eloquence, the
inexhaustible brilliancy of his conversation, as well as enthralled by
the classic beauty of his face, and the respectful yet tender glances
which he from time to time cast upon her face. It may also be supposed
that the hints casually dropped by the squire the night before,
respecting his distinguished acquaintance, the young Duke of St.
James, had not been without their effect. Sooth to say, however, that
the hitherto cold and impassive Hortensia was really in love, and that
she had too much self-respect to make any conditions in the bestowal
of her admiration. She was haughty, proud and ambitious--yet at the
same time high-minded and generous where her feelings were really
interested.

Much may be accomplished in an afternoon between two congenial hearts
that meet for the first time; and it is not at all surprising that on
their way home the stranger and Hortensia should have lingered a
little behind the rest of the party, engaged in deep and earnest talk.

"Beautiful being," whispered the stranger, "I have at length found my
heart's idol, whom in dreams I ha