struck by the God as you darted from me." "You are right," cried Gondimar, "I am composing a song." "In English too, I perceive." What, if it be English? you know one of my talents, can write even in that dd language: so criticise my rhapsody if you dare. At all events, Lady Avondale will admire it; for it is about a rose and love—most sentimental. And where is she? for till her return, I will not shew it you."
If that question, where is Lady Avondale? must be answered, it is with sorrow and regret that such answer will be made:—she was walking slowly, as Gondimar had seen her, by the banks of the river Elle: she was silent, too, and mournful; her spirits were gone; her air was that of one who is deeply interested in all she hears. She was not alone—Lord Glenarvon was by her side. It was their custom thus to walk: they met daily; they took every opportunity of meeting; and when in their morning and evening rambles she pointed out the beautiful
