l cannot my pleasure mar;
Constant your heart; it beats for me alone.

In summer night, gazing on starry sky,
And on yon radiant queen, who rides on high,
Your fancy seems to roam, yet hovers nigh;
Constant your heart; it beats for me alone.

But hark! yon trump! you start as from a dream;
From your bright eyes the warrior flashes gleam;
All else forgotten. War is now your theme;
Constant my heart; it beats for you alone.

'Midst charging hosts, the foremost rank is thine;
In saddened bower, the thrilling fear is mine;
You glow with ardor, I in sorrow pine;
Constant my heart; it beats for you alone.

Could L'Isle's vanity be beguiling him? The tremor of her voice, her
saddened troubled look, the beaming glances of her eyes, which hovered
about him, yet shunned to meet his gaze--they all betrayed her. She
was, perhaps half consciously, identifying him with the object of the
song. Her audience were delighted, but L'Isle was entranced, and no
longer a responsible man.

The guests were now fast leaving the house, and Lady Mabel, having
much to say to Mrs. Shortridge, was among the last. L'Isle attended
her down stairs, and was about to hand her into the old coach, when
she drew back timidly.

"How dark it is, with that cloud over the moon. I am afraid Antonio
Lobo is scarce postillion enough to drive down that steep rough road
without accident."

L'Isle instantly recollected, that having escorted Lady Mabel to the
party, it was his privilege to see her safe home again. Bidding the
footman keep the coach door open, he sprang into the house for his
hat, and in a moment was again seated by her side. The lumbering
vehicle rolled out of the _praca_ and down the sloping street to the
western gate of Elvas. As the guard there closed the gate behind them,
and shut them out from the light of the lantern, they seemed to plunge
into "outer darkness." Lady Mabel's nervous terrors came back upon her
with redoubled violence.

The fosse under the drawbridge seemed a ravenous abyss, and the deep
road cut through the _glacis_ and overhung by the outworks appeared to
be leading down into the bowels of the earth. The road, too, down into
the valley was steep, winding and much cut up by use and the heavy
winter rains.

"I have been so much on horseback lately," she said, apologizing for
her fears, "and so seldom in a carriage, and this is such a rickety
old thing, that you must excuse my alarm. Besides,