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clear blue eyes, the mother almost seemed younger than the daughter.

Donna Margaretta's dress, though it was black, shewed more of personal adornment. The material was a rich silk. The ends of the veil, drawn over her head, were embroidered with silver ; she had long gold ear-rings; to a rich and large gold chain was suspended a cross set with precious stones; and over the arm of her chair hung a rosary of agate beads. Another contrast was, that, though Beatrice's little hands were as exquisitely shaped as her mother's, they had not the same delicate white which shews the hand has known no ruder contact than a silken thread, a lute-string, or a flower. Moreover, the contrast between her throat and face shewed that Beatrice was somewhat sunburnt; while her mother's cheek was fair as one

“ No wind has swept-no sun has kiss'd."

They drew round the breakfast-table, which was as neat as if it had been prepared in England. There was chocolate, new milk, honeycomb with its liquid amber droppings fragrant of a thousand flowers, a small loaf, and a little basket of green figs. Lorraine observed, that while the rest of the meal was served on the common earthenware of the country, Donna Margaretta's cup was of exquisitely painted china, and placed on a small silver stand wrought in filagree.

The meal passed cheerfully, even gaily. If Beatrice was silent, and seemingly anxious, her mother appeared to be even in high spirits. Delighted to see a countryman of her own, she asked a thousand questions. The sound of an English voice and English words carried her back to her childhood; and the birds and flowers she had then loved now rose uppermost in her recollections. She often alluded to her husband said he would soon be home -- and repeatedly dwelt on the pleasure it would give him to see an Englishman.

Breakfast was scarcely finished before she rose, and asked Edward to accompany her to her garden. “ It is just like an English one."

“ It is very hot, dear mother-had you not better stay in the house?”

“ There now-when my garden is so cool. You will go, will you not ?" said she, with an air of pretty childish entreaty to Edward. “We won't take you, Beatrice.”

Beatrice rose, and, calling the old black servant, spoke to him in a low voice in Spanish.

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“ Cæsar will direct you — and you will take care of my mother,” she said to Lorraine, with rather more earnestness of manner than seemed necessary

The old negro led the way, and, with a most ostentatious care, cleared the path, which wound very like a labyrinth, till it opened on a small space no one could have found without a guide. Entirely surrounded by ilex and oaktrees, it was like an island of sunshine; the soft thick grass only broken by plots of manycoloured Aowers. In the midst of each was a wooden stand, on which was a straw bee-hiveevery one of those Cortez of the insect world were out upon their golden search, and the murmur of their wings was like an echo to the falling fountain in the midst. The basin had once been carved like a lotus-leaf; the edges were now rough and broken, but the water fell clear and sweet as ever.

His companion delightedly pointed out the flowers and the bees; and, whether it was the contagion of her gladness, the open air, or the sunshine, his spirits awoke from the depression of his morning melancholy. Her peculiarly sweet laugh rose like music; and he gradually began to draw a parallel between

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the mother and the daughter. In spite of the interest excited by Beatrice, the conclusion was in favour of the parent.

66 The one,” thought he to himself, “ is gloomy and desponding-rash, too-think of last night's adventure. Donna Margaretta, on the contrary, reconciles herself to the alteration of her fortunes by a gentle contentedness, engaging her mind and centering her wishes on healthful employment and innocent amusements, in the best spirit of feminine philosophy.”

He walked round the garden with her, till they came to an immense ilex-tree at one end. It had its lower branches fashioned into a sort of bower, and a rude lattice-work supported the growth of several luxuriant creeping plants. There were two or three seats covered with matting; and on one of these, at the foot of the ilex, Donna Margaretta took her place. " It is not so pretty as our English gardenshave you a garden at home ?” Edward was obliged to confess his inattention hitherto to horticultural pursuits. “I was much happier in England-now, don't you tell Beatrice, for she takes his part — but Don Henriquez is very unkind to leave me as he does.

as he does. I have not seen him such a long while.”

Confidential communications are usually embarrassing; and Edward began to think, “ What shall I say?" His companion did not give him much time to consider, before she continued—“ I have very little to remind me of England; but I have some of its flowersI like them better than all the others :" and, putting a drooping bough aside, she shewed some daisies, of which she gathered a few. At first she seemed as if about to give them to him, when suddenly her eyes filled with tears, and she passionately exclaimed, “ Not these - I cannot give away these. They are English flowers — you will get plenty in your own country; you


back there, I shall see England no more."

Edward, both surprised and touched, endeavoured to soothe her; she did not appear even to hear what he said. She let the flowers drop, and, clasping her knees with joined hands, rocked backwards and forwards, half singing, half repeating the words, “ no more;" while the tears fell like a child's down her face, without an effort on her part to stop them. Gradually the sounds became inarticulate, the heavy glittering lash rested on the cheek, her head made a natural pillow of the ilex' trunk,

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