l,
and brought him an echo from other days and other climes.

"Behold the beautiful night--the wind sleeps drowsily--the silent
shores slumber in the dark:

"Sul placido elemento
Vien meco a navigar!

"The soft wind moves--as it stirs among the leaves--it moves and
dies--among the murmur of the water:

"Lascia l'amico tetto,
Vien meco a navigar!

"Now on the spacious mantle--of the already darkening heavens--see,
oh the shining wonder--how the white stars tremble:

"Sul l'onde addormentate
Vien meco a navigar!"

This was the voice that he heard amidst the roar of the London streets.
Would he hear it far away on the wide Atlantic, with the shores of
England hidden behind the mists of rain? To-night was to decide what the
future of his life was to be.

If Natalie had appeared at this moment, and said to him, "Dearest, let
it be as my father wishes;" or if Lord Evelyn had frankly declared to
him that it was his duty to surrender his possessions to this Society to
which he had devoted his life, there would have been not a moment's
hesitation. But now he was going to see a man whom he suspected and was
inclined to hate, and his nature began to harden. It would be a question
between one man of the world and another. Sentiment would be put aside.
He would no longer be played with. A man should be master of his own
affairs.

This was what he said to himself. But he had quite forgotten his
determination to consider this matter as if no Natalie existed; and his
resolve to exclude sentiment altogether did not interfere with the fact
that always, if unconsciously, there remained in his mind a certain
picture he had been dreaming a good deal about of late. It was a picture
of an old-fashioned rose-garden in the light of an English summer
morning, with a young wife walking there, herself taller and fairer than
any flower. Would she sing, in her gladness, the songs of other lands,
to charm the sweet English air? There was that one about _O dolce
Napoli!--o suol beato!_--

When he got to Lisle Street, every one had arrived except Molyneux
himself. Mr. Lind was gravely polite to him. Of course no mention could
then be made about private affairs; the talk going on was all about the
East, and how certain populations were faring.

Presently the pink-faced farmer-agitator was ushered in, looking a
little bit alarmed. But this frightened look speedily disappeared, and