ons I would wear spectacles. By Jove! Bill Mathews, waking or
sleeping, I never was haunted by an evil spirit worse than yourself. But
here's Skinner at last! Fetch a bottle of brandy and some glasses to yon
empty table, Mary. I must try to win back from him what I lost last
night."

CHAPTER XVII.

Oh! speak to me of her I love,
And I shall think I hear
The voice whose melting tones, above
All music, charms mine ear.--S.M.

Whilst Godfrey Hurdlestone was rapidly traversing the broad road that
leads down to the gates of death, Anthony was regaining his peace of
mind in the quiet abode of domestic love. Day after day the young
cousins whiled away the charmed hours in delightful converse. They
wandered hand in hand through green quiet lanes, and along sunny paths,
talking of the beloved. Clary felt no jealous envy mar the harmony of
her dove-like soul, as she listened to Anthony's rapturous details of
the hours he had spent with Juliet, his poetical descriptions of her
lovely countenance and easy figure. Nay, she often pointed out graces
which he had omitted, and repeated, with her musical voice, sweet
strains of song by her young friend, to him unknown.

Was there no danger in this intercourse? Clarissa Wildegrave felt none.
In her young heart's simplicity, she dreamed not of the subtle essence
which unites kindred spirits. She never asked herself why she loved to
find the calm noble-looking youth for ever at her side; why she prized
the flowers he gathered, and loved the songs he loved; why the sound of
his approaching steps sent the quick blood glowing to her pallid cheek,
and lighted up those thoughtful dreamy eyes with a brilliancy which fell
with the serene lustre of moon or star-light upon the heart of her
cousin--to him as holy and as pure.

She loved to talk of Juliet, for it brought Anthony nearer. She loved to
praise her, for it called up a smile upon his melancholy face; the
expression of his brow became less stern, and his glance met hers, full
of grateful tenderness. She loved to see her own girlish face reflected
in the dark depths of those beautiful eyes, nor knew that the mysterious
fire they kindled in her breast was destined to consume her young heart,
and make it the sepulchre of her new-born affections.

"It must be a blessed thing to be loved as you love Juliet, Anthony,"
she said, as they were sitting together beneath the shadow of the great
oak which graced the ce