o.

_Ugo Foscolo._

It was night, gentle and serene, such a night as in the favored clime of
Andalusia is wont to succeed the sultriness of a summer's day. The
bright canopy of heaven shone in passionless serenity, emblazoned with
its countless stars. The moon flung a solemn light on the tall palaces
and stately turrets of Granada, and tinged the citron groves of Don
Alonso's garden with a flood of chaste and silvery splendor. The placid
beams reposed calmly and unbroken on the bosom of the still lake, or
danced fitfully on the bubbling eddies of the limpid water, as it fell
on the marble basin with a refreshing sound.

How beautiful this calm! In such a spot as this could the wearied mind
taste of the sweet repose of an earthless spirit. But hark! the
breathless silence is violated by a low harsh sound. It is the grating
voice of yonder ponderous Moorish casement. It opens, and a female form
is there wrapped in contemplation; her eye is fixed, her figure
motionless. She now raises the trembling fingers to her white forehead,
and reclines on her arm, as she watches, with the unconscious gaze of an
absent mind, the sportive waters as they played below. She seemed to
delight in the soft stillness, and to gather fresh life amidst the
mysterious shades that reigned around. Spirit-like, she sat in the
frowning window, enrobed in shadow, and the cold whiteness that
pencilled out her form, seemed to array it with the character of a
living statue.

It was Theodora--the hapless Theodora, who, a prey to the rooted
melancholy that consumed her, had left her couch to enjoy undisturbed
the luxury of grief. The garden soon brought to her fancy recollections
of past scenes, and the source of all her present misfortunes. It was in
a garden, and on such nights as these that her meetings with Gomez Arias
had taken place, as well as the last interview which had decided her
fate, and given birth to all the miseries which followed. Tranquil and
serene was all around; Theodora felt a wild and romantic sensation of
delight, while gazing on objects fraught with associations of past bliss
and present misery. The hallowed placidity of the blue vaulted heavens;
the soft whispering of the foliage that slumbered in the cold moonlight;
the spectre-like appearance of the tall trees, which stood partly
enrobed in shadowy darkness, and partly glowing in serene and chastened
splendor; the gentle murmuring of the spo