sing tranquilly,
she would pass the hour, and oft in the night when the moon beams fell
on the garden, she would be seen gliding along its paths like some
fleeting phantom.

In this melancholy state Theodora had continued during some time, when
one morning Monteblanco was agreeably surprised to see his child in
unusually good spirits. The gloom which sat habitually on her brow had
vanished, and a placid smile played upon her lips. Joyfully the
venerable parent beheld the welcome change, and anxiously he wished to
improve those favorable symptoms of returning health. Theodora told her
father that she had dreamed in the night an awful dream. She had seen
her husband, not as heretofore, in the fearful scenes of his desertion
and death, but his eyes beaming with a heavenly light, bidding her be
happy, as he was happy and blessed.

It was the anniversary of the day on which Theodora had left her home.
Night came, and Monteblanco saw not his daughter by his side. He waited
impatiently for some time, and then repaired to the garden, for he knew
Theodora delighted in rambling there.

The faithful Roque, who since the death of his master had attached
himself to the service of Monteblanco, took a torch, and accompanied the
old cavalier to the garden. Don Manuel called aloud upon his daughter,
but his voice was only answered by the sad echoes of the place. He
became alarmed, and hastily proceeded to the bower: there he descried
Theodora lying on the marble seat, apparently asleep. He approached her,
and affectionately chid her for her absence.

"Awake, child, awake," he cried; "surely your delicate health will be
injured by the chilling air of night."

He gently raised her arm.

"Roque, bring closer that torch."

Roque obeyed--Theodora indeed slept, but it was the sleep of death.

Struck with consternation, the wretched old man clasped the lifeless
body in his arms, and called eagerly on his child by the most endearing
of names. Alas! it was too late: the spark of life had fled for ever,
and the dull glare of the torch that fell upon her countenance soon
confirmed the mournful truth. Pale and bloodless was her cheek, and cold
were those beauteous limbs. The angel of death had spread his sable
pinions over her dewy brow, and closed her eyes in eternal sleep. The
despairing father now strove to raise his daughter in his arms, when
something fell from her nerveless grasp. Roque immediately took it
up--he gave a start, and u