re, to taint even his innocent and careless boyhood, even the urgent
appeals of his critical and perilous situation; all, all were forgotten
in one intense delirium of absorbing love.

Anon he rose from his seat, and paced his room for some minutes, with
his eyes fixed on the ground. Then throwing off his clothes, and taking
the flower from the vase, which he had previously placed on the table,
he deposited it in his bosom. 'Beautiful, beloved flower,' exclaimed
he; 'thus, thus will I win and wear your mistress!'

CHAPTER VIII.

_A Strange Dream_.

RESTLESS are the dreams of the lover that is young. Ferdinand Armine
started awake from the agony of a terrible slumber. He had been walking
in a garden with Henrietta Temple, her hand was clasped in his, her
eyes fixed on the ground, as he whispered delicious words. His face
was flushed, his speech panting and low. Gently he wound his vacant arm
round her graceful form; she looked up, her speaking eyes met his, and
their trembling lips seemed about to cling into a------

When lo! the splendour of the garden faded, and all seemed changed and
dim; instead of the beautiful arched walks, in which a moment before
they appeared to wander, it was beneath the vaulted roof of some temple
that they now moved; instead of the bed of glowing flowers from which
he was about to pluck an offering for her bosom, an altar rose, from the
centre of which upsprang a quick and lurid tongue of fire. The dreamer
gazed upon his companion, and her form was tinted with the dusky hue of
the flame, and she held to her countenance a scarf, as if pressed by the
unnatural heat. Great fear suddenly came over him. With haste, yet
with tenderness, he himself withdrew the scarf from the face of his
companion, and this movement revealed the visage of Miss Grandison.

Ferdinand Armine awoke and started up in his bed. Before him still
appeared the unexpected figure. He jumped out of bed, he gazed upon the
form with staring eyes and open mouth. She was there, assuredly she was
there; it was Katherine, Katherine his betrothed, sad and reproachful.
The figure faded before him; he advanced with outstretched hand; in his
desperation he determined to clutch the escaping form: and he found
in his grasp his dressing-gown, which he had thrown over the back of a
chair.

'A dream, and but a dream, after all,' he muttered to himself; 'and yet
a strange one.'

His brow was heated; he opened the casement. I