surpasses all bounds of loveliness, is a
sufficient excuse for all errors, if error that can be called for which
there is so irresistible a cause. I am grateful to you, senora, for what
you have said in my favour; and I hope to repay you by hearty good
wishes that you may find a happy issue out of your perplexities, and
that you may enjoy the love of your Andrew, and Andrew that of his
Preciosa, with the consent of his parents; so that from so beautiful a
couple there may come into the world the finest progeny which nature can
form in her happiest mood. This is what I shall always desire, Preciosa;
and this is what I shall always say to your Andrew, and not anything
which could tend to turn him from his well-placed affections."

With such emotion did Clement utter these words, that Andrew was in
doubt whether they were spoken in courtesy only, or from love; for the
infernal plague of jealousy is so susceptible that it will take offence
at the motes in the sunbeams; and the lover finds matter for
self-torment in everything that concerns the beloved object.
Nevertheless, he did not give way to confirmed jealousy; for he relied
more on the good faith of his Preciosa than on his own fortune, which,
in common with all lovers, he regarded as luckless, so long as he had
not obtained the object of his desires. In fine, Andrew and Clement
continued to be comrades and friends, their mutual good understanding
being secured by Clement's upright intentions, and by the modesty and
prudence of Preciosa, who never gave Andrew an excuse for jealousy.
Clement was somewhat of a poet, Andrew played the guitar a little, and
both were fond of music. One night, when the camp was pitched in a
valley four leagues from Murcia, Andrew seated himself at the foot of a
cork-tree, and Clement near him under an evergreen oak. Each of them had
a guitar; and invited by the stillness of the night, they sang
alternately, Andrew beginning the descant, and Clement responding.

ANDREW.

Ten thousand golden lamps are lit on high,
Making this chilly night
Rival the noon-day's light;
Look, Clement, on yon star-bespangled sky,
And in that image see,
If so divine thy fancy be,
That lovely radiant face,
Where centres all of beauty and of grace.

CLEMENT

Where centres all of beauty and of grace,
And where in concord sweet
Goodness and beauty meet,
And purity ha