musician, and passionately devoted to vocal melody,
listened with unexaggerated rapture.

'Oh! beautiful!' exclaimed he, as the songstress ceased.

'Captain Armine!' cried Miss Temple, looking round with a wild,
bewitching smile. 'I thought you were meditating in the twilight.'

'Your voice summoned me.'

'You care for music?'

'For little else.'

'You sing?'

'I hum.'

'Try this.'

'With you?'

Ferdinand Armine was not unworthy of singing with Henrietta Temple. His
mother had been his able instructress in the art even in his childhood,
and his frequent residence at Naples and other parts of the south had
afforded him ample opportunities of perfecting a talent thus early
cultivated. But to-night the love of something beyond his art inspired
the voice of Ferdinand. Singing with Henrietta Temple, he poured forth
to her in safety all the passion which raged in his soul. The squire's
lady looked confused; Henrietta herself grew pale; the politicians
ceased even to whisper, and advanced from their corner to the
instrument; and when the duet was terminated, Mr. Temple offered his
sincere congratulations to his guest. Henrietta also turned with
some words of commendation to Ferdinand; but the words were faint
and confused, and finally requesting Captain Armine to favour them by
singing alone, she rose and vacated her seat.

Ferdinand took up the guitar, and accompanied himself to a Neapolitan
air. It was gay and festive, a _Ritornella_ which might summon your
mistress to dance in the moonlight. And then, amid many congratulations,
he offered the guitar to Miss Temple.

'No one will listen to a simple melody after anything so brilliant,'
said Miss Temple, as she touched a string, and, after a slight prelude,
sang these words:--

THE DESERTED.

I.

Yes, weeping is madness,
Away with this tear,
Let no sign of sadness
Betray the wild anguish I fear.
When we meet him to-night,
Be mute then my heart!
And my smile be as bright,
As if we were never to part.

II.

Girl! give me the mirror
That said I was fair;
Alas! fatal error,
This picture reveals my despair.
Smiles no longer can pass
O'er this faded brow,
And I shiver this glass,
Like his love and his fragile vow!

'The music,' said Ferdinand, full of enthusiasm, 'is-----'

'Henrietta's,' replied her father.

'And the words?'

'Were found in my c