laughing fruits; and fairer than
all, O England, the faces of thy soft-eyed daughters!

From the field where Sibyll and her father had wandered amidst the dead,
the dismal witnesses of war had vanished; and over the green pastures
roved the gentle flocks. And the farm to which Hastings had led the
wanderers looked upon that peaceful field through its leafy screen; and
there father and daughter had found a home.

It was a lovely summer evening; and Sibyll put aside the broidery frame,
at which, for the last hour, she had not worked, and gliding to the
lattice, looked wistfully along the winding lane. The room was in the
upper story, and was decorated with a care which the exterior of the
house little promised, and which almost approached to elegance. The
fresh green rushes that strewed the floor were intermingled with dried
wild thyme and other fragrant herbs. The bare walls were hung with serge
of a bright and cheerful blue; a rich carpet de cuir covered the oak
table, on which lay musical instruments, curiously inlaid, with a few
manuscripts, chiefly of English and Provencal poetry. The tabourets
were covered with cushions of Norwich worsted, in gay colours. All was
simple, it is true, yet all betokened a comfort--ay, a refinement, an
evidence of wealth--very rare in the houses even of the second order of
nobility.

As Sibyll gazed, her face suddenly brightened; she uttered a joyous cry,
hurried from the room, descended the stairs, and passed her father, who
was seated without the porch, and seemingly plunged in one of his most
abstracted reveries. She kissed his brow (he heeded her not), bounded
with a light step over the sward of the orchard, and pausing by a wicket
gate, listened with throbbing heart to the advancing sound of a horse's
hoofs. Nearer came the sound, and nearer. A cavalier appeared in sight,
sprang from his saddle, and, leaving his palfrey to find his way to the
well-known stable, sprang lightly over the little gate.

"And thou hast watched for me, Sibyll?"

The girl blushingly withdrew from the eager embrace, and said
touchingly, "My heart watcheth for thee alway. Oh, shall I thank or
chide thee for so much care? Thou wilt see how thy craftsmen have
changed the rugged homestead into the daintiest bower!"

"Alas! my Sibyll! would that it were worthier of thy beauty, and our
mutual troth! Blessings on thy trust and sweet patience; may the day
soon come when I may lead thee to a nobler home, and h