h beautiful faces, as should always be the case, and with sweet
sounds, as was the present--there is something very ravishing in the
combination. The heart opens; it is a dangerous moment. As Ferdinand
listened once more to the voice of Henrietta, even though it was blended
with the sweet tones of Miss Grandison, the passionate past vividly
recurred to him. Fortunately he did not sit near her; he had taken
care to be the last in the boat. He turned away his face, but its stern
expression did not escape the observation of the Count Mirabel.

'And now, Count Mirabel, you must really favour us,' said the duchess.

'Without a guitar?' said the Count, and he began thrumming on his arm
for an accompaniment. 'Well, when I was with the Duc d'Angouleme in
Spain, we sometimes indulged in a serenade at Seville. I will try to
remember one.'

A SERENADE OF SEVILLE.

I.

Come forth, come forth, the star we love
Is high o'er Guadalquivir's grove,
And tints each tree with golden light;
Ah! Rosalie, one smile from thee were far more bright.

II.

Come forth, come forth, the flowers that fear
To blossom in the sun's career
The moonlight with their odours greet;
Ah! Rosalie, one sigh from thee were far more sweet!

III.

Come forth, come forth, one hour of night,
When flowers are fresh and stars are bright,
Were worth an age of gaudy day;
Then, Rosalie, fly, fly to me, nor longer stay!

'I hope the lady came,' said Miss Temple, 'after such a pretty song.'

'Of course,' said the Count, 'they always come.'

'Ferdinand, will you sing?' said Miss Grandison.

'I cannot, Katherine.'

'Henrietta, ask Ferdinand to sing,' said Miss Grandison; 'he makes it
a rule never to do anything I ask him, but I am sure you have more
influence.'

Lord Montfort came to the rescue of Miss Temple. 'Miss Temple has spoken
so often to us of your singing, Captain Armine,' said his lordship;
and yet Lord Montfort, in this allegation, a little departed front the
habitual exactitude of his statements.

'How very strange!' thought Ferdinand; 'her callousness or her candour
baffles me. I will try to sing,' he continued aloud, 'but it is a year,
really, since I have sung.'

In a voice of singular power and melody, and with an expression which
increased as he proceeded, until the singer seemed scarcely able to
control his emotions, Captain Armine thus proce