ferred walking with her sister; so he was forced to make some civil speech, repudiating the idea of her ever being dull, and to walk smilingly by her side. She perceived that he was distrait, but attributed this to his being undecided whether to seize that moment for a declaration of his feelings, or to wait for some other opportunity. She spoke calmly and gently to him, expressed the great pleasure herself and her family had experienced in his society, of the deep interest they would henceforth take in his country, and the success of the cause he espoused, and hoped, almost in a trembling voice, that he would think sometimes of them and of Clair Hall. Adela always said "we" and "us," so there was nothing bold or unfeminine in what she did say.

"Think of you!" he exclaimed. "By Heavens, señorita, Clair Hall and . . . and its dear inmates will never be absent from my thoughts. When I leave this lovely island, as I must now do soon, I shall leave my heart behind. . . . I

Adela's heart beat so loudly that she could scarcely catch his low

accents.

What was that which interrupted the interesting scene, and, as Adela thought, the avowal of love he was about to make?

It was not a blast, but a shrill sound from Hector's cane flute; it could just pipe two notes, and Hector made vigorous use of these. Colonel Mentilla turned hastily round, and beheld the musician rushing after them. "We are going

"Did you not hear the bugle-call ?" he exclaimed. to the bell-apple arbour, and want you two to help us in a serenade we are going to get up there.'

"Whom are you going to serenade?" asked the colonel, laughing. "Ourselves—and the pigeons up yonder," pointing to a pigeon-house at no great distance, "and any living creature that may hear us."

Adela rather wondered at the alacrity with which her lover, as she fancied him, accompanied Hector to join the rest of the party, from whom she and the colonel had somewhat strayed; but she assured herself he was obliged to appear satisfied, though the interruption must have been very provoking to him.

"Music hath charms, you see," cried Hector, flourishing his cane pipe; "it has brought the runaways back."

Adela coloured deeply, looking conscious and confused; while Mentilla bent his eyes inquiringly on Linda, as if to ask what she thought of his having deserted her.

Hector settled them all according to his own pleasure in the bell-apple arbour, at the entrance of which stood two splendid mahagua trees, but its flowers-the palest primrose tint in the morning, bright yellow under the noonday sun, and a rich brownish hue in after-part of the day -were hanging almost shrivelled up, as if exhausted by the heat and glare of the past hours. Hector severed poor Adela from Mentilla, and delivered her over, an unwilling victim, to Don Alonzo Alvaez, who gladly arranged a small bench for her and himself.

"Linda," said Hector, "make room for Colonel Mentilla by you, or he will have to ensconce himself on the floor; Minna and I will take these two rickety old chairs, and, if they give way, I trust some of you will come to the rescue.'

Hector had perceived Colonel Mentilla's admiration of Linda, and,

willing to do as he would be done by, he was determined to place him in close proximity to that young lady.

Now," said Hector, the self-constituted master of ceremonies, "we are going to sing. Talking is sometimes a bore-music seldom is. Do any of you know a hymn to the moonlight?"

No one confessed to any such knowledge, therefore a popular air was fixed on, and sang in chorus, to their own satisfaction at least.

"But really we ought to take some notice of yon splendid moon, and as none of us know any musical address to her, I will, with permission, read to you by her light a poem which was written the other day by a young lady of our acquaintance."

"By you?" asked Colonel Mentilla, in a whisper of his neighbour, Linda.

-not by me," she replied.

"Oh no

“Hush, hush, in that corner!" cried Hector. "I am going to lift up my voice, though not in the nasal twang of one of our Methodist parsons, yet I don't like to be disturbed any more than these gentry do. The lines I am going to recite or read are in honour of the Queen of Night:

Now, 'tis moonlight's softest hour,
When fairies leave their elfin bower
To gambol on the dewy green,
By mortal eyes alone unseen;

When sea-nymphs from their coral cells
Ascend, in cars of motley shells,
To wanton 'midst the waves above,
And hail the sacred hour of love;

When spirits floating in the air,
The balmy breath of evening share;
And every sprite, and nymph, and fay
Awakes to joy, till dawn of day.

Now, they glide in mazy round-
Now, with airy footsteps bound-
Sporting beneath the bright moonbeams,
Where'er their sparkling radiance gleams.
Hark! mingling with the sighing breeze,
What wild, unearthly sounds are these,
Now swelling high like choral strain,
Then sinking, murm'ring low again?
List! 'Tis the spirits' vesper song,
Borne by the gentle gale along,
And myriad voices joining there,
Arise from ocean, earth, and air!

Hail to thee! Hail to thee! Queen of Night!
Hail to thy mild and hallowed light,

That brightly beams,

Or faintly gleams,

From thine azure throne, great Queen of Night!

Hail to thy clear and tranquil ray!

Oh dearer far than gaudy day.

We own thy power,

And love thy hour,

Thou goddess of the silver ray!

That brightly beams,

Or faintly gleams

From thine azure throne, great Queen of Night!

We owe our thanks to Adela for this effusion to moonlight," said Hector, when he had finished half reading, half reciting, these verses. "She ought to be the poet laureate of our important island,” he added. Adela was warmly complimented by both the South Americans, who, as in duty bound, begged copies of the little poem.

And now,' ," cried Hector, blowing a sort of flourish on his cane fife, "this is the retreat. We must go in to assist at the petit souper, which doubtless good Mrs. Rivers has ordered for us. I hope the attorneygeneral's savage humour will have been cooled down; he looked, before we made our exit, as if he would have been cannibal enough to have eaten off your head, Linda, and another head in the room."

III.

AN OFFER REFUSED.

THE time for the departure of the South American chiefs was drawing very near. Their little vessel had undergone all the repairs obtainable at the small island on which the hurricane had driven them; and willingly as they would have prolonged their stay, and loth as they were to tear themselves from the young hostesses who had made such havoc on their feelings, they never dreamed of throwing aside the claims of duty, and were ready to resume their perilous position among those who were fighting for liberty in their country.

But the spirits of both gentlemen sank as the day of departure approached, and the spirits of Adela and Linda St. Clair sank also.

They had not made confidantes of each other; something unaccount

able to both seemed to have prevented their opening their hearts to each other. It was, probably, that Adela had perceived how much Linda liked Colonel Mentilla, but, fancying she was his favourite, did not feel inclined to pain her sister by making this communication to her; while Linda, on her part, suspected Adela's penchant for the handsome colonel, but well knew that he did not care for her, and felt it would be awkward to undeceive her.

"He will go-ah! too soon-from us both," she said to her sympathising aunt; "and there is no need to mortify poor Adela by telling her how she has deceived herself."

"Well, my dear, I don't know if it is right to let her go on deluding herself," replied Mrs. Rivers. "Adela puts me in mind of a volcano. You will say it is an absurd comparison, but you see, Linda dear, she is all ice and snow without, and fire and flames within."

"Cheto fuor, commoto dentro, as the Italians say," remarked Linda. "But this is a new character for her; she used to be always so quiet, and seemed to be quite above all human passions."

"Yes, until the human passions scorched her. There was nobody for her to care about here. She called all the men stupid and common-place, not worth a thought, and she says now that Colonel Mentilla seems to belong to a higher order of beings than they do."

"And so he does," replied Linda, warmly. "Oh, Aunt Dora, he is perfection !"

Mrs. Rivers smiled.

Well, my poor child, it is natural you should think so, but it is unfortunate that two sisters have fixed their affections on one and the same person. I only hope Adela won't commit some act of folly."

"Adela! Nay, aunt, she is too sensible, too reasonable for that." Don Alonzo Alvaez was in despair at the idea of leaving the island without having come to some éclaircissement with Adela, but he sought in vain for an opportunity of speaking to her alone, therefore he determined to address himself to her father, and accordingly, demanding a private interview with the old gentleman, he made his proposals for the eldest Miss St. Clair.

Great were the surprise and annoyance of Mr. St. Clair. It had never entered his mind that his South American guests could have formed any attachment to his daughters, though, if he had not been very blind, he might have seen what was going on. He, of course, thanked Don Alonzo for the high compliment he paid Adela, but in courteous, yet decided terms, declined his offer. He said that the very unsettled state of the Spanish Main would make it unadvisable and unsafe for any lady to go there at that time; that he, Alvaez, would not be in a position to protect a wife, and that she could not even accompany him in the small vessel in which he was to return to La Guayra.

"No, my friend," he added. "You had better wait until more settled times; then, if, as I hope, your party triumph, and you escape the dreadful chances of war, and you still remember Adela, come back to us, and, should she be still unmarried, I shall give my consent to your union, although your being a Roman Catholic and she a Protestant is a great drawback, I confess."

Don Alonzo asked permission to speak to Adela, and hear his doom

from her own lips; but Mr. St. Clair said he would rather she were left free to act as she pleased.

"If she cares for you, she will remember you, and think of no one else; if she does not, her loss will not be great to you. I intend taking my daughters to England next year, and it is possible that they may marry there; at the same time, it is very possible that they may return unmarried. No one can look into the future."

This was cold comfort for the enamoured Don Alonzo, but nothing more was to be extracted from the old gentleman.

The interview ended, Alvaez flew to Mentilla to complain of the manner in which his proposals had been received; and much shocked and concerned his friend was, for he felt that Mr. St. Clair would be quite as inexorable in regard to his adored Linda.

"This is a sad finale to our happiness here, Alvaez," said Colonel Mentilla. "You love Adela, I love Linda. What is to be done? Can we carry them both off ?"

No, no, no!" cried Don Alonzo, his proud Spanish blood mantling to his cheeks. "What! steal the old man's daughters? Reward his hospitality by such an act! You cannot seriously contemplate it for a moment, Mentilla."

"But to leave my Linda, perhaps for ever, to know that she may come another man's wife-oh, Alvaez, this is too much to bear !"

be

"Would we had never come here!" exclaimed Alvaez-"never beheld these syrens; it would have been better for us. But now we must only nerve ourselves to the task of parting with them—for a time, at least. If we live and conquer, they may yet be ours; if we fall on the field of battle, it will be better for those we love to be safe in their father's house."

"True!" replied Mentilla. But schemes were floating in his brain which he did not choose to communicate to his friend-schemes that the slightest imprudence on his own part, or that of any one to whom he might confide them, would assuredly mar. "No!" he said to himself— "I will not seek any assistance from Alvaez; I will entrust my plan only to her, without whose co-operation it cannot be carried out."

IV.

SCHEMES CARRIED OUT.

AND what was Colonel Mentilla's mysterious 'plan ? That was to be told only to Linda; and, in order to have a few minutes' uninterrupted conversation with that young lady without eavesdroppers-for in West India houses, where everything is arranged for coolness, and doors are generally thrown open, privacy is not easily attainable-he managed to convey to her a little billet, entreating her to take an early walk with him the following morning. People rise early in tropical climates, and the family at Clair Hall were generally up betimes. Adela was always the latest of the young ladies, and she, moreover, spent a good deal of the early morning at her toilet; Minna usually busied herself before breakfast with her birds and her flowers; while Mr. St. Clair always went to the boiling-house or the field to inspect the operations necessary