with a cast of feature of the most
classic mould. As she sat at the window, gazing out on the blue sea,
ever and anon a slight roseate tinge would appear in her soft cheek, and
vanish rapidly as the thoughts which made it rise. Her costume was
rather fanciful, than either Grecian or of any other people, and though
elegant and becoming, she appeared to have formed it from a profuse
supply of costly materials placed at her disposal. It partook, however,
of the character of the dress of the East, though European taste might
have been detected in it.

She seemed very sad; for, though she held a book in her hand, with which
she was apparently endeavouring to divert her attention from melancholy
thoughts, her eyes would constantly wander over the wide blue sea, the
only object visible from the window, and a pearly drop from her dark eye
would steal down her cheek, and fall unheeded on the page before her,
while an unconscious sigh would burst from her heaving bosom.

There was evidently a weight on her young heart, a grief which was
wearing out the elasticity of her spirits, withering her glorious
beauty, and making her aged before her time. Perchance she mourned the
absence of one she loved, and was wearied with anxiety for his return;
perhaps the canker-worm of remorse was at work within her, for a fault
committed and irretrievable; perhaps she was the victim of lawless
outrage, a captive against her will; perhaps she had been severed from
all she loved on earth, and the bright hopes of life had been blasted
for ever. At last she closed her book with a smile; but it was one of
pain and bitterness at the hopelessness of her attempt to divert her
mind from the contemplation of the present. A guitar, such as is
generally used in Italy, lay on the divan near her; she took it up, and
ran her fingers over the strings. For a few minutes she struck a
plaintive air, in consonance with her feelings, and then, almost
unconsciously, she added her voice to the strain in a rich flow of
melody. Her words, too, were sad, and the language was that of Italy.

Nina's Song.

The earth is all as lovely here,
The sky as bright and fair,
And flowers of every hue and shade
Perfume the southern air.
The sparkling sea lies at my feet,
So clear, it seems a lake,
And tiny waves, with snowy crest,
Alone the silence break;
And yet I weep from day to day
For that loved home, now far away!

I almost wish 'twere n