ndows that commanded this prospect were now open; and through
that which was nearest to the gate, half reclined the elegant, slight,
and somewhat petite form of a female, who, with one small and
delicately formed hand supporting her cheek, while the other played
almost unconsciously with an open letter, glanced her eye alternately,
and with an expression of joyousness, towards the vessel that lay
beyond, and the point in which the source of the Sinclair was known to
lie. It was Clara de Haldimar.

Presently the vacant space at the same window was filled by another
form, but of less girlish appearance--one that embraced all the full
rich contour of the Medicean Venus, and a lazy languor in its movements
that harmonised with the speaking outlines of the form, and without
which the beauty of the whole would have been at variance and
imperfect. Neither did the face belie the general expression of the
figure. The eyes, of a light hazel, were large, full, and somewhat
prominent--the forehead broad, high, and redolent with an expression of
character--and the cheek rich in that peculiar colour which can be
likened only to the downy hues of the peach, and is, in itself, a
physical earnest of the existence of deep, but not boisterous--of
devoted, but not obtrusive affections; an impression that was not, in
the present instance, weakened by the full and pouting lip, and the
rather heavy formation of the lower face. The general expression,
moreover, of a countenance which, closely analysed, could not be termed
beautiful, marked a mind at once ardent in its conceptions, and steady
and resolute in its silent accomplishments of purpose. She was of the
middle height.

Such was the person of Madeline de Haldimar; but attractive, or rather
winning, as were her womanly attributes, her principal power lay in her
voice,--the beauty, nay, the voluptuousness of which nothing could
surpass. It was impossible to listen to the slow, full, rich, deep, and
melodious tones that fell trembling from her lips upon the ear, and not
feel, aye shudder, under all their fascination on the soul. In such a
voice might the Madonna of Raphael have been supposed to offer up her
supplications from the gloomy precincts of the cloister. No wonder that
Frederick de Haldimar loved her, and loved her with all the intense
devotedness of his own glowing heart. His cousin was to him a divinity
whom he worshipped in the innermost recesses of his being; and his, in
retu