, and in deep
thought fixed her eyes on the heaven, whose blue unclouded concave was
studded thick with stars, the worlds, perhaps, of spirits, unsphered
of mortal mould. As her eyes wandered along the boundless aether, her
thoughts rose, as before, towards the sublimity of the Deity, and to the
contemplation of futurity. No busy note of this world interrupted the
course of her mind; the merry dance had ceased, and every cottager had
retired to his home. The still air seemed scarcely to breathe upon the
woods, and, now and then, the distant sound of a solitary sheep-bell,
or of a closing casement, was all that broke on silence. At length, even
this hint of human being was heard no more. Elevated and enwrapt, while
her eyes were often wet with tears of sublime devotion and solemn awe,
she continued at the casement, till the gloom of mid-night hung over the
earth, and the planet, which La Voisin had pointed out, sunk below the
woods. She then recollected what he had said concerning this planet, and
the mysterious music; and, as she lingered at the window, half
hoping and half fearing that it would return, her mind was led to the
remembrance of the extreme emotion her father had shewn on mention of
the Marquis La Villeroi's death, and of the fate of the Marchioness,
and she felt strongly interested concerning the remote cause of this
emotion. Her surprise and curiosity were indeed the greater, because she
did not recollect ever to have heard him mention the name of Villeroi.

No music, however, stole on the silence of the night, and Emily,
perceiving the lateness of the hour, returned to a scene of fatigue,
remembered that she was to rise early in the morning, and withdrew from
the window to repose.

CHAPTER VII

Let those deplore their doom,
Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn.
But lofty souls can look beyond the tomb,
Can smile at fate, and wonder how they mourn.
Shall Spring to these sad scenes no more return?
Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed?--
Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn,
And Spring shall soon her vital influence shed,
Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead!
BEATTIE

Emily, called, as she had requested, at an early hour, awoke, little
refreshed by sleep, for uneasy dreams had pursued her, and marred the
kindest blessing of the unhappy. But, when she opened her casement,
looked out upon the woods, bright with the morning sun, and inspired the
pure air,