had bidden her a soft adieu? What, was it this day that
she had given him this rose?

He threw himself upon the turf, and gazed upon the flower. The flower
was young and beautiful as herself, and just expanding into perfect
life. To the fantastic brain of love there seemed a resemblance between
this rose and her who had culled it. Its stem was tall, its countenance
was brilliant, an aromatic essence pervaded its being. As he held it in
his hand, a bee came hovering round its charms, eager to revel in its
fragrant loveliness. More than once had Ferdinand driven the bee away,
when suddenly it succeeded in alighting on the rose. Jealous of his
rose, Ferdinand, in his haste, shook the flower, and the fragile head
fell from the stem!

A feeling of deep melancholy came over him, with which he found it in
vain to struggle, and which he could not analyse. He rose, and pressing
the flower to his heart, he walked away and rejoined Glastonbury, whose
task was nearly accomplished. Ferdinand seated himself upon one of the
high cases which had been stowed away in the hall, folding his arms,
swinging his legs, and whistling the German air which Miss Temple had
sung the preceding night.

'That is a wild and pretty air,' said Glastonbury, who was devoted to
music. 'I never heard it before. You travellers pick up choice things.
Where did you find it?'

'I am sure I cannot tell, my dear Glastonbury; I have been asking myself
the same question the whole morning. Sometimes I think I dreamt it.'

'A few more such dreams would make you a rare composer,' said
Glastonbury, smiling.

'Ah! my dear Glastonbury, talking of music, I know a musician, such a
musician, a musician whom I should like to introduce you to above all
persons in the world.'

'You always loved music, dear Ferdinand; 'tis in the blood. You come
from a musical stock on your mother's side. Is Miss Grandison musical?'

'Yes, no, that is to say, I forget: some commonplace accomplishment
in the art she has, I believe; but I was not thinking of that sort of
thing; I was thinking of the lady who taught me this air.'

'A lady!' said Glastonbury. 'The German ladies are highly cultivated.'

'Yes! the Germans, and the women especially, have a remarkably fine
musical taste,' rejoined Ferdinand, recovering from his blunder.

'I like the Germans very much,' said Glastonbury, 'and I admire that
air.'

'O! my dear Glastonbury, you should hear it sung by moonlight.'

'Indeed!' s