ine and chestnut, palm and
cedar, grew in beautiful luxuriance. On the left was a small dwelling,
almost hidden in trees. Directly beneath him a natural fountain threw
its sparkling showers on beds of sweet-scented and gayly-colored
flowers. The hand of man had very evidently aided nature in forming
the wild yet chaste beauty of the scene; and Arthur bounded down the
slope, disturbing a few tame sheep and goats on his way, determined on
discovering the genius of the place.

No living object was visible, however; and with his usual reckless
spirit, he resolved on exploring further, ere he demanded the
hospitality of the dwelling. A narrow path led into a thicker wood,
and in the very heart of its shade stood a small edifice, the nature
of which Arthur vainly endeavored to understand. It was square, and
formed of solid blocks of cedar; neither carving nor imagery of any
kind adorned it; yet it had evidently been built with skill and care.
There was neither tower nor bell, the usual accompaniments of a
chapel, which Stanley had at first imagined it; and he stood gazing
on it more and more bewildered. At that moment, a female voice of
singular and thrilling beauty sounded from within. It was evidently
a hymn she chanted, for the strain was slow and solemn, but though
_words_ were distinctly intelligible, their language was entirely
unknown. The young man listened at first, conscious only of increasing
wonderment, which was quickly succeeded by a thrill of hope, so
strange, so engrossing, that he stood, outwardly indeed as if turned
to stone; inwardly, with every pulse so throbbing that to move or
speak was impossible. The voice ceased; and in another minute a door,
so skilfully constructed as when closed to be invisible in the solid
wall, opened noiselessly; and a female figure stood before him.

CHAPTER II.

"Farewell! though in that sound be years
Of blighted hopes and fruitless tears--
Though the soul vibrate to its knell
Of joys departed--yet farewell."

MRS. HEMANS.

To attempt description of either face or form would be useless. The
exquisite proportions of the rounded figure, the very perfection of
each feature, the delicate clearness of the complexion--brunette when
brought in close contact with the Saxon, blonde when compared with the
Spaniard--all attractions in themselves, were literally forgotten, or
at least unheeded, beneath the spell which dwelt in the _expression_
of her countenance