words I heard from the voice which had so strangely charmed me. All were soon in motion, and to those who have ever landed from a steam-packet at Folkestone by night, I need not say that the crowding, darkness, and obstruction from custom-house officers leaves one no leisure to look after other people's concerns. The excitement on this occasion was increased by some one shouting from the pier, just as we touched it, "Sebastopol is taken!" It was, indeed, the day on which the news of of this scarce hoped-for result of the destruction of the Malakoff reached England. One glimpse I caught of the small white bonnet as it passed under the single lamp on the landing-place and disappeared into the darkness beyond. I made my way to the customhouse, and while undergoing the usual ordeal of waiting and vexation, my eye fell on the owner of the sonorous voice, now fully revealed in the glare of gas-light, and certainly a handsome, imposing-looking man. Не glanced round with a haughty impatience; the Italian courier, with heaps of luggage under his charge, was evidently the sole representative there of the object he was seeking; and after giving some brief directions to his servant, in a tone rather less melifluous than that in which he had lately addressed her, he also passed into the darkness, and I saw him no more.

Days and weeks have passed since that evening on the channel, and when I reconsider and think over every word that passed,

how trivial, how inadequate do they appear to the impression which remains uneffaced, nay strengthened, by the lapse of time! The memory of that fresh young voice returns to me in my silent home till my heart aches to hear its music once more, and often in dreams, both waking and sleeping, its echo rings sweet and clear in the air, and a shadowy form, the embodiment of its unseen charms, floats before my half-closed eyes. Often the thought recurs: does he, the favoured sharer in that one hour's discourse, thus cherish its remembrance? Did they ever meet again? May it not be that even now they are exchanging deeper thoughts, more tender feelings? No; I trust not. He was emphatically a man of the world, amusing himself with every passing attraction and as lightly flinging it aside. I trust not; for his imperative temper would surely hush those joyous tones and teach them, even on the free air of ocean, to assume the measured monotony prescribed in the heated rooms of fashion. Nay, for myself, I would scarcely wish to know more, or to exchange that entrancing vision of the imagination for a, perhaps, disenchanting reality. Farewell, then, fair being! may you live happy, as you are gifted to inspire happiness, and be to me for ever

"The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, A living voice, a breathing harmony; A bodiless enjoyment, born and dying With the blest tone that made thee !"

"Shadows dark and sunlight sheen

Alternate come and go."-Longfellow.

I WAS scarcely four-and-twenty when I took out my diploma, and settled down in the little village of Maplewood, in the capacity of a country physician. It was a lonely place enough; but my health, always uncertain, was at that time impaired by excessive study, and I welcomed the utter solitude of my new home with a delight which is known only to the student and the invalid.

The old grey church and the few small cottages which constituted the village of Maplewood were situated at the foot of a long range of sloping hills, bounded on one

side by a rapid trout-stream, and on the other by the broad forest-acres of Maplewood Hall. In front of the hamlet spread a vast undulating plain covered with waving cornfields, rich brown fallows, and green pasture meadows; while, far away, the blue summits of the Welsh mountains marked the limits of the horizon. In this remote and sylvan spot I, for awhile, established myself; not with any idea of remaining there for more than a couple of years, but simply with a view to recruiting my shattered health, and writing a work on pulmonary affections, with which I trusted to make my débût upon the crowded stage of London practice.

I

Though not possessed of much worldly wealth, I enjoyed a moderate income, which sufficed for the requirements of a bachelor, and enabled me, in this matter, at least, to follow the bent of my own inclinations. accordingly sought out the village of Maplewood, succeeded in renting the little parsonage, and there resided in perfect solitude with one old woman-servant and my books.

The parsonage was exactly the retreat which I had desired; and, in,consequence of the rector residing some twenty miles away in the town of S- —, where he held a considerable living, and only riding over to perform the service at Maplewood on Sunday afternoons, I had the pretty verandahed cottage entirely to myself.

An extensive garden and lawn surrounded the house and sloped down to the road. An enclosure, thickly planted with lindens, willows, cedars, pines, and apple-trees, extended at the back. A bower of white roses and honeysuckle climbed round the pillars of the rustic porch and clung in heavy masses round the upper windows; and a small but well-furnished library opened upon the lawn and commanded a view of the village, the ivied church tower, the distant plain and mountains, and the adjacent tree-tops and turrets of Maplewood Hall.

It was spring when I arrived. The hedges were all in bloom, the fields were glorious with kingcups and daisies, and the corn was still short and green upon the dewy uplands. Slowly I saw these beauties succeeded by the riper glow of summer, and during those five months I lived a very still and simple life; but a very studious-a very happy one.

Then came another change of season-the golden corn deepened into that red brown which invites the sickle; the rosy apples nodded on the boughs; the careful farmer prepared his barns and granaries, and then the harvest commenced.

But with that change, that harvest-season, there came a change for me; and my lifestory began.

Maplewood Hall was the property of a lady to whom public rumour assigned no ordinary share of beauty and talent, in addition to the vast estates to which she had but recently succeeded on the death of a relation. Miss Isabel De l'Isle was young, brilliant, and an heiress; what wonder, then, if the announcement of her sudden arrival, for the first time, at so distant a portion of her inheritance, should create an immense amount

of excitement and curiosity among, not only her own tenantry, but all the inhabitants of that country side?

I will confess that I was as desirous of seeing this lady of the manor as any herdsman or gleaner in the village. I rode frequently past the park gates and haunted the drives around, in the hope of meeting her; yet I was always disappointed. Her arrival had been very quiet; her walks, since she had been at Maplewood Hall, studiously confined to the limits of the park.

A week, ten days, a fortnight passed away, and still Miss De l'Isle remained invisible. Gradually the excitement died away; I, as well as others, gave up the hopeless attempt of seeing her, and soon her very presence among us was almost forgotten.

At the commencement of the third week I met her.

I have said that there was a trout-stream in the neighbourhood, but I have not mentioned the singularity of its course or the delight which I took in wandering under the shade of the weeping willows and the tall dark poplars that flourished on its banks. This little river wound round the village of Maplewood like a crescent, describing a circuit of some six or seven miles; skirting a part of Maplewood Park, diverging far back round the hills, and coming forth again at the opposite side of the hamlet like another stream.

To follow the course of its waters with my fishing-rod and a book formed one of the frequent pleasures of my country life, and I was thus occupied at the time of which I speak.

It was a glorious autumn morning-so early that the dew yet sparkled in the cups of the field flowers. I had left home after a hasty breakfast, and already had arrived at the loveliest part of the stream, just where it ran beside the park and formed a tiny cascade by foaming over a bank of worn green stones. Here I laid down my apparatus, prepared my tackle, and began to fish.

It was an oppressively warm day, even in that shady place; so I threw my coat aside and sat upon the bank, with my back against the stem of a tree and my feet dangling down in an exceedingly plebeian fashion. I may as well say that my hands and face were burnt as brown as a Spaniard's, that my thick fishing boots were covered with dust and mud, that my shirt-collar was opened at the throat, and that I wore a large straw hat

with a very broad brim, to protect my eyes from the sun.

I was sitting or half reclining thus, enjoying the dolce far niente, and whistling dreamily to myself, when I was aroused by a voice close at my elbow.

"Do you think, friend, that you could assist me to that branch of ash berries?"

It was a tall and graceful lady, dressed in an ample white robe, just fastened at the throat with a small jewelled ornament; a black scarf was gathered lightly round her person, and she held her bonnet in her hand, suffering her long auburn ringlets to be blown about by the rising breeze, and looking so young, so lovely, and so proudly conscious of her rank and beauty that I felt deprived of all power to reply.

She smiled and repeated her question. I sprang up, and, removing my hat"Madam," I said, "you may command me." It was now her turn to blush and look surprised. She drew back and hesitated; but, seizing a limb of the tree with one hand and rapidly hoisting myself upwards with the other, I broke away the bough of scarlet berries and placed it in her hand.

"I-I beg your pardon," she said, doubtfully, "but I took you for one of the villagers."

"And you were perfectly correct, madam," I replied, smiling and glancing involuntarily at my own attire. "I believe that I have even the honour to be numbered amongst your tenantry. I inhabit the Maplewood Parsonage."

"Then I am speaking to Dr. Elliot ?"
I bowed.

The lady laughed merrily and extended her hand to me.

"As you are one of my tenants, sir," she said, "we must be friends. I am Isabel De l'Isle. 1 took you for-excuse me-for one of the farmer's sons round here, or I should not have been so bold as to address you. You will, I hope, forgive me?”

"It is my own fault, Miss De l'Isle, for dressing in this uncivilized fashion; but I have hitherto suited my appearance to that of my humble neighbours and to the nature of my amusements. I am really unfit to be seen by a lady."

All this time I was casting longing glances towards my coat, and was painfully conscious of the tout ensemble of my costume. The young lady was evidently amused at my distress.

"Pray make no apologies, Dr. Elliot," she said. "You look quite picturesque, I assure you. What have you been studying

here ?"

And she glanced towards the open volume on the bank.

I handed it to her.

"Ah, my old friend Spenser-the very poet for the woods and fields ! I suppose you dream over his pages in this pleasant glade,

'With mountaines round about environed,

And mightie woodes which do the valley shade,' till you almost expect to see Sir Guyon come riding on his steed, or the weird form of Archimago rise up on the opposite bank!"

"At all events, you have surprised me here after the manner of Belphoebe."

She smiled and returned the book. "Izaak Walton," she said, "would have been the companion that I should soonest expect to find with an angler. 'Tis a barbarous sport after all, and he was a cruel old Puritan. Oh, of course, you defend him," she continued, observing me about to reply. "You will say that the amusement is innocent and that Walton was a philosopher; anglers always do. They would canonize Saint Izaak, if they might."

There was something frank and cordial in the very tones of her voice; something bright and laughter-loving in the very glance of her blue eye, that inspired me with a mingled feeling of confidence, respect, and admiration.

"All creatures prey upon inferior races," I replied, "from the animalcula to the man. We but obey one of the laws of nature. Now I dare say that if I were to venture on sending a basket of fine trout to Maplewood Hall this morning, Miss De l'Isle would by no means refuse to partake of them when served up to table!"

"I have no doubt that Miss De l'Isle would enjoy them excessively," replied the young lady, more particularly if Dr. Elliot would honour her by becoming a guest at the said table. At the same time she would far rather the poor trout were still swimming in and out the ledges of this rivulet; nay, she would even entreat Dr. Elliot to remember that Mercy

'sits a smiling bride,

By Valour's arm'd and awful side;' and e'en plead for him to spare them!" "I regret that the mischief is already

done," I said, opening my basket and revealing three fine trout already reposing within. "But I will give you my promise, Miss De l'Isle, to angle no more this week."

"Thanks for even that concession," she replied, laughing, "and as this is but Monday, I must esteem myself fortunate. You will dine to-day at the hall, Dr. Elliot?” I bowed my thanks, and gathered my fishing tools into the basket.

"I may be permitted to forward these for your acceptance?"

"I am much obliged to you. Do not forget your engagement. We dine at six."

And she extended her hand once more with an aristocratic yet an unpretending freedom, that betokened the perfectly wellbred and still unspoiled femme du monde. Just as I had dropped the proffered hand and was about to turn away, she paused and said, gaily

"I know I have not thanked you half enough, Doctor Elliot, but you will accept the will for the deed."

"Not for the dead, but on behalf of the living."

"I am sure the fish ought to be greatly obliged to you. They little know how much they are your debtors."

She waved her hand, ran in among the trees, and with these words we parted.

And this was my first meeting with Isabel De l'Isle. It has never been in the faintest manner effaced from my memory, nor would it be, though I lived for a thousand years to come. In that brief interview I was already fascinated, bewildered, subdued. I went homewards with an exhiliration of spirits such as I had not known since my boyish days; and when at night I returned from her house to my own little parsonage it was under the influence of that dream which we call by the name of first love.

Yes, love; real, passionate love at first sight-the sunshine of my youth—the master passion of my after life! All that night, all the next day, her songs and the liquid music of her harp, were ringing in my ears, her light and lovely form, her charming countenance was yet before my eyes, the passing touch of her white hand seemed still to linger on my palm.

On the second day I called again, and was as cordially received (I should mention that an aunt resided with her, and she thus

avoided committing any impropriety in the reception of gentlemen); on the fourth I repeated it, and so it went on till I became her daily guest, the companion of her walks, the obedient servant of her every wish.

I never paused to think how this should end. I loved in silence, and the love was too sweet a thing to question. I was content to enjoy the present good without a care for the future uncertainty. Was I rash? I know not, but still I would fain believe that the golden hours are best seized before they fade.

I was dreaming-true but the dream was a dream of Aden, and I hoped never to awake from it.

Oh, the happy, happy mornings when, mounted on two of her fleetest horses, we went galloping through vale, and over hill, and amid the long green alleys of the neighbouring forest! How she would dare me then to clear the hedges, and fly past, like the deified huntress of old Greece, with her ringlets streaming from beneath her plumed hat, and her merry laugh ringing through the air! And how I loved and followed her, and scarcely dared to meet her bright, fearless gaze lest I should betray the love within.

Then there were times when we would walk idly through the quaint old garden paths, or through the glades of the broad park; she gathering flowers by the way, while I read aloud to her from the pages of some old favourite poet, or from the profounder works of Bacon or Herschel. For Iaabel's mind, joyous and enjoying as it was, was equally formed to appreciate those higher philosophical studies from which women are too universally excluded. She had been trained to masculine reading, and she combined with this logical solidity of intellect a brilliant power of repartee and antithesis, and a profound sympathy with all poetry and beauty, that lent to her conversation a grace of which it were vain for me to attempt a reproduction.

I was there as frequently during the evening as the day. I am not sure but that the evenings were, after all, the most delightful. For then she would sing and play to us for hours together, or sit in the shadow of the window to watch the rising moon, and talk of abstract things, of futurity, of death, of the plurality of worlds, and of a thousand subjects on which I delighted to hear her noble thoughts.

"Friends!" I echoed, thinking her in jest. "Why, whom do you know here? Who can you ask, unless it be the cottagers and farmers ?"

She smiled and shook her head.

"My guests will take the trouble to come all the way from London," she replied. "You forget that it is now the shooting season, and I am expected to welcome many town friends to my preserves. I was in Leicestershire last season, where I have a house, and every room was occupied long before this. You would have thought it a beseiged garrison, there was such a perpetual discharge of fire-arms all day long in the plantations."

66 And pray how many visitors do you expect?" I asked, with a sinking at the heart and an inward trouble, which I felt that I could not quite succeed in hiding.

"About a dozen. There will be Sir James and Lady Durham; the Earl of Bosmere; Captain Somers; Mrs. and Miss Cavendish; old Major Barnard; the Hon. Sydney Sandhurst; the two Miss Newports; the Reverend Horace Lucas, and the widow of the late Colonel Davis, who fell in Affghanistan. Now you are in possession of the entire programme."

I hastened to take my departure, and though I walked home by a circuit of about eight miles, I could not sleep at all that night. A cloud seemed to be hanging over me, a nameless uneasiness weighed upon my spirits; and though I strove hard to combat the weakness, I found myself totally unable to shake it off.

It was with a trepidation of which I felt ashamed, that I made my way next day up the accustomed staircase of Maplewood Hall. I had been so long out of society, indeed I had for so many years lived the life of a mere student, that I dreaded to encounter the criticisms of these London visitors. With

Isabel I had been from the first completely at my ease. She had been pleased to accept my conversation for whatever it might be worth, and had consented to overlook any shortcomings in the way of politesse, of which I might occasionally have been guilty. But would these people be equally forbearing? Might not my reserved habits, my country manners, my ignorance of fashionable on dits, expose me to that keen and polished ridicule in which they were certain to excel ? And to be ridiculed before her! the thought was unbearable.

I reached the top of the stairs, "Doctor Elliot," announced the powdered footman at the door, and in a moment I was advancing towards where she sat, at the farther end of the drawing-room, surrounded by several of her guests.

I had never before seen her in evening costume, and as she leaned back in a large Elizabethan chair, with her robe of delicatehued silks and laces, her long, bright ringlets, and her white arms glittering with bracelets, I thought I had never beheld anything so beautiful. A handsome aristocraticlooking man, scarce past middle life, was half reclining, with an air of graceful negligence, upon a fauteuil close beside her; and a fair young man, almost a boy in years, was leaning over the back of a chair at the other side. All were talking pleasantly together, with the familiar ease of persons accustomed to each others society.

But these were not all. The room was not crowded, certainly, but little groups were scattered about in all directions, in the windows, round the fire-place, and on the ottomans and sofas. A knot of young ladies, two of them rather pretty, were chatting eagerly in one corner; a pale, clerical-looking man, with a white neckcloth was listening languidly to the remarks of two or three old ladies in another; and a trio of upright, elderly gentlemen, with that indefinable something that stamps the retired militaire, were discussing politics loudly in the recess of one of the windows.

All this I saw in a moment, even as I was making my way from the door to that far corner where Isabel De l'Isle sat, like the queen of her little court.

As I approached, she rose, advanced a step, and held out her hand.

"Welcome, Doctor Elliot," she said, with her usual frank smile and ready greeting. "I have been expecting you for the last half