iled slowly from our
waters, with her colours floating sadly half-mast high.

Ella thus suddenly bereaved, mourned in wild and bitter grief, but
woman's pride, at times her guardian angel, at others her destroyer,
took up its stronghold in her heart. The tempter Conrad awoke its
tones--with specious wile he recalled De Clairville's lofty ideas of
name and birth--how proudly he spoke of his lady mother and the castled
state of his father's hall. Was it not likely that, at the last, this
pride had rallied its strength around him, and bade him seek a nobler
bride than the lowly maiden of the "Refugees?" Too readily she heard
him, for love the fondest is nearest allied to hate the deepest, and De
Clairville's name became a thing for scorn and hate. 'Twas vain for me
to speak--what could I say? A species of fascination seemed to be
obtained by Conrad o'er her--a witching spell was in his words--'twas
but the power, swayed by his strong and ill-formed mind, over her weak
but gentle one--which, if rightly guided, would have echoed such sweet
music--and, ere the summer passed, she had forgotten her lost lover, and
was to wed him.

To others there was nothing strange in this, but to me it brought a wild
and dreary feeling; not that my early dreams were unchanged, for I had
learned to think a love like her's, so lightly lost and won, was not the
thing to be prized. Alas! I knew not the blackness of the spirit that
beguiled her, and wrought such woe. Still she had done wrong--the
affections of man's heart may not be idly dealt with--the woman who
feigns what she feels not, has her hand on the lion's mane. Ella at one
time had done this, and she reaped a dark guerdon for her falsehood. Yet
in her it might have been excused, for the very weakness of her nature
led her to it. Let those who are more strongly gifted beware of her
fate.

The earth was in the richest flush of her green beauty. On the morn,
Ella was again to be a bride--the golden light streamed through the glad
blue sky, and all looked bright and fair--the remains of the church,
which had long looked black and dreary, were gay with the richness of
vegetation--the bracken waved its green plumes, and the tall mullen
plant, with its broad white leaves, raised its pale crest above the
charred walls. While the dew was shining bright I had gone
forth--surprise and consternation greeted my solitary approach when I
returned. Again the holy book had been opened--the priest sto