and far removed from us-in the other, it may be sudden and fall even on our own home. War, even in the distant battle of a foreign land, is terrible and sorrowful enough; but what is the agony of blood shed in the far warfare to that poured at our own doors, and quenching the fire of our own hearth!

Edward paced the room mournfully: he gazed on the slight remains of taste which had turned wealth to beauty. But the most touching part of all, was to mark the effort that had been made to restore something of comfort and appearance. He thought of the beautiful face he had seen for a moment—it looked very young to have known much of suffering. The door of the room opened, and the negro appeared, bringing in supper; and the little table was soon spread. There was a flask of light wine, a melon, some bread, and fried fish. And with all the volubility of his race, Cæsar explained, that the ladies sent their excuses, and that to-morrow they hoped to make him personally welcome.

A solitary supper is soon despatched. The negro then shewed Lorraine to his sleepingroom, almost deafening him with apologies. It is a good sign when servants take the credit

of their master's house so much to heart. An immense room, and a gigantic bed with darkgreen hangings, were gloomy enough for either ghosts or banditti, to whichever terror the traveller might most incline. But a bright wood fire drew at least round itself a cheerful circle, within which Lorraine found he was to sleep. The floor had been laid with heath and goatskins, and on them more comfortable bedding than a traveller ought ever to consider necessary. The huge green bed was evidently too old and mouldy for use.

Considering that it was near one, and that he had ridden some thirty miles, Edward might be excused for sleeping soundly, even, as the newspapers say, "under circumstances of the greatest excitement." He was awakened by the glad light of the morning sun pouring full into his chamber, and shewing the past luxury and present desolation by which he was surrounded. The floor, the wainscoting, were of mahogany-the walls were hung with the finest tapestry—and there were occasional spaces in which large mirrors had been set: but the mahogany was rough and discoloured, the tapestry rent and faded, and the mirrors either wholly gone, and their places filled by matting, or by

fragments smashed and shivered in every direction. The floor near the window was stained as if by heavy and long-continued rain; and the casement was now repaired by different kinds of coarse glass, and the one or two larger openings by slips of wood.

The view from the window was splendid. On one side, a dense wood of oak and cork trees spread its impenetrable but beautiful barrier; on the other, an undulating country shewed every variety of vineyard, heath, and grove: the vines emerald in their green-the orangegroves, whose flowers, mingled with the wild thyme on the heath, scented the dew, which rose like a cloud of incense, silvery and fragrant. Gradually the mist cleared away, the distant mountains came out in full and bold relief, and the winding river grew golden in the sunshine.

Edward was leaning from the casement, when Cæsar made his appearance with information that Donna Margaretta waited breakfast. He followed the old man into the room where he had been the night before, and seated in the arm-chair was the lady whom his young companion addressed as her mother. With the first word she spoke, her guest recognised

that peculiar insular accent which none but a native of England ever acquires. We rarely pay much attention to what neither concerns nor interests us; and Edward had forgotten that Don Juan had married an Englishwoman. She was a slight, girlish-looking creature, with fair hair nearly concealed by the veil which was drawn round her head like a hood, but which in its simplicity rather added to her very youthful face there was something of the grace of childhood with which she bade a countryman welcome" under any circumstances," slightly glancing at the dilapidated room :-" Circumstances of which a native of your fortunate land cannot, and therefore will not, I hope, judge," said a low sweet voice, in good but foreign English.

Lorraine turned to the speaker, and recognised his last night's companion. Their eyes met for a moment: in hers there was a singular mixture of timidity and decision, of appeal and yet dignity. She blushed deeply, but momentarily, and her features instantly settled into an expression, calm, almost cold; as if any betrayal of emotion were utterly at variance with long habits of self-control.

Edward had seen beauty often, and seen it

with every possible aid; but never had he seen beauty so perfect, yet so utterly devoid of extraneous assistance. She wore a loose black stuff dress, up to the throat, and the folds simply gathered by a girdle round the waist; yet a more symmetrical figure never gave grace to silken robe. The swan-like neck nobly supported the finely-shaped head, round which the hair was bound in the simplest manner. The features were of the first order: the high forehead, the oval of the face, the short, curved lip, gave the idea of a Grecian gem; and the clear pale olive, unbroken by colour-a melancholy, almost severe expression of thought, produced also the effect of the more spiritual and intellectual beauty of a statue rather than a picture. The eyes were peculiarly large, beautiful in form and colour; of that rare deep, soft black; thoughtful rather than animated; quiet, downcast, more than expressive: but it was not difficult to imagine, that, when their midnight depths were kindled, it would be the flashing of the lightning. There was something sad in seeing youth such a contrast to itself—a face whose beauty only was young.

With a bright changeful colour, a mouth whose smiles were in unison with the bright