:

"'In sheltered vale a mill-wheel
Still sings its tuneful lay.
My darling once did dwell there,
But now she's far away.
A ring in pledge I gave her,
And vows of love we spoke--
Those vows are all forgotten,
The ring asunder broke.'"

The rich, beautiful voice, low and plaintive, now seemed to float over
the water: it died away among the water-lilies; it seemed to hang like a
veil over the low boughs; it startled the birds, and hushed even the
summer winds to silence. So sweet, so soft, so low, as he listened, it
stole into his heart and worked sweet and fatal mischief. He buried his
face in his hands and wept aloud.

On went the sweet voice, with its sad story: he held up his hand with a
gesture of entreaty.

"Hush, Leone," he said, "for God's sake, hush. I cannot bear it."

On went the sweet voice:

"'But while I hear that mill-wheel
My pains will never cease;
I would the grave would hide me,
For there alone is peace,
For there alone is peace.'"

"I will sing that verse again," she said, "it is prophetic."

"'I would the grave would hide me,
For there alone is peace.'"

She bent her head as she sung the last few words, and there was silence
between them--silence unbroken save for the ripple of the waters as it
washed past the boat, and the song of a lark that soared high in the
sky.

"Leone," said Lord Chandos, "you have killed me. I thought I had a
stronger, braver heart, I thought I had a stronger nature--you have
killed me."

He looked quite exhausted, and she saw great lines of pain round his
mouth, great shadows in his eyes.

"Have I been cruel to you?" she asked, and there was a ring of
tenderness in her voice.

"More cruel than you know," he answered. "Once, Leone, soon after I came
home we went to a concert, and among other things I heard 'In Sheltered
Vale.' At the first sound of the first notes my heart stood still. I
thought, Leone, it would never beat again; I thought my blood was frozen
in my veins; I felt the color die from my face. Lady Marion asked me
what was the matter, and the countess thought that I was going to swoon.
I staggered out of the room like a man who had drunk too much wine, and
it was many hours before I recovered myself; and now, Leone, you sing
the same words to me; they are like a death knell."

"They hold a prophecy," said Leone, sadly, "the only place where any one
can find res