May it shine not on sabre or shield,

On the carnage-stained dust of mad war's moanful

field,

But o'er thy freed children's blest, peace-hallow'd

power!

"And the death-light of slavery shall gleam

From the grave-pyre, o'er ruin and stream,

O'er the mountain, the ocean, to far distant

shores,

Illuming a path for the free,

A fearful, yet glorious track o'er the sea,

To each clime where to truth the spirit pure

soars !

Oh, then shalt thou, first of the earth,

Be crowned, as was Greece, at her birth, By freedom, yet gifted with lore more divine!

And swordless and bannerless, thou

Shalt rule by the might of thy spiritual brow, And thy love to the envying world be a sign!"

For a minute after the closing cadence had died away, Geraldine sat motionless, too engrossed with the sentiments she had been expressing to be conscious of anything else; the rainbow-tinted tracery of stems, and leaves, and glowing petals roofing the magic bower, her companions, the festivities of the ball-room, were utterly forgotten. The flush of excitement still richly suffused her cheek, in splendid profusion the bright tresses of her shining hair fell over her ivory neck and throat, confined, above her brow, by her beautiful crown of laurel.

She started a low murmur of applause, as from many voices, smote upon her ear, and roused her from her reverie; the sound increased she rose hastily, and turning round, perceived, to her astonishment, that the curtain had been drawn aside, the

folding-doors flung open, and that the adjoining apartment was thronged with listeners. Hurt and offended, she stood paralyzed, while the plaudits grew more and more enthusiastic. She longed to escape, but could not endure the thought of passing through that noisy assemblage. Lord Derrington comprehended her desire.

If

you wish to return to the ball-room, here is a way through Ida's study."

Geraldine thanked him, grateful for his consideration. As she was gliding through the shrubs she heard a low sigh, breathed close beside her, and glancing rapidly round while Lord Derrington was opening the door for her, she caught a glimpse of the figure of the Brigand his face was averted.

Scarcely had she gained the almost de

serted ball-room, when Sir Arthur Loder, who had followed her from the conservatory, came up to claim her hand. After the exhibition of herself, into which she fancied she had been inveigled, she felt nervously disinclined to take any further part in the amusements of the evening; but it was incumbent upon her to avoid any appearance of incivility to Sir Arthur, and therefore she constrained herself to suffer him, as the room was refilling, and the sets were already forming, to lead her forward. Her embarrassment wore off as she joined in the quadrille, but she could not so easily recover from the sensations of annoyance, the suspicion that she had been premeditately betrayed into a display, which she would have scorned to have made volun. tarily.

VOL. II.

H

The ensuing gallopade presented an amusing mingling of dissimilar characters. Tippoo Saib had chosen for his partner a Tyrolese milkmaid; and the Cardinal, a queen of the harem; Wallace, a Russian princess; while the last prize of Henry VIII., was Joan of Arc; the Laplander had bewitched Venus; and the long-lost Cupid the immaculate Vesta; Lord Dudley had run off with a nun, and the Dryad with a waterman; and Queen Elizabeth, splendid in crimped ruff and red hair, with a burly abbot.

While most of the guests were diverting themselves in this gay, grotesque fashion, Sir Arthur prevailed upon Geraldine, as the room had become oppressively warm, to try if the refreshment-rooms were not more agreeable places of repose. In the one to which he led her, a few persons were loung