oly mingled with all the beauties of this garden,
that gradually stole over the feelings of the lovers. The place is
full of the sad story of past times. It was the favourite abode of the
lovely queen of Granada, where she was surrounded by the delights of a
gay and voluptuous court. It was here, too, amidst her own bowers of
roses, that her slanderers laid the base story of her dishonour, and
struck a fatal blow to the line of the gallant Abencerrages.

The whole garden has a look of ruin and neglect. Many of the fountains
are dry and broken; the streams have wandered from their marble
channels, and are choked by weeds and yellow leaves. The reed whistles
to the wind, where it had once sported among roses, and shaken perfume
from the orange-blossom. The convent-bell flings its sullen sound, or
the drowsy vesper-hymn floats along these solitudes, which once
resounded with the song, and the dance, and the lover's serenade. Well
may the Moors lament over the loss of this earthly paradise; well may
they remember it in their prayers, and beseech Heaven to restore it to
the faithful; well may their ambassadors smite their breasts when they
behold these monuments of their race, and sit down and weep among the
fading glories of Granada!

It is impossible to wander about these scenes of departed love and
gayety, and not feel the tenderness of the heart awakened. It was then
that Antonio first ventured to breathe his passion, and to express by
words what his eyes had long since so eloquently revealed. He made his
avowal with fervour, but with frankness. He had no gay prospects to
hold out: he was a poor scholar, dependent on his "good spirits to
feed and clothe him." But a woman in love is no interested calculator.
Inez listened to him with downcast eyes, but in them was a humid gleam
that showed her heart was with him. She had no prudery in her nature;
and she had not been sufficiently in society to acquire it. She loved
him with all the absence of worldliness of a genuine woman; and,
amidst timid smiles and blushes, he drew from her a modest
acknowledgment of her affection.

They wandered about the garden, with that sweet intoxication of the
soul which none but happy lovers know. The world about them was all
fairy land; and, indeed, it spread forth one of its fairest scenes
before their eyes, as if to fulfil their dream of earthly happiness.
They looked out from between groves of orange, upon the towers of
Granada below the