ETHEL CHURCHILL.
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CHAPTER XXXI.
THE DUEL.
The moonlight falleth lovely over earth;
And strange, indeed, must be the mind of man
That can resist its beautiful reproach.
How can hate work like fever in the soul
With such entire tranquillity around?
Evil must be our nature to refuse
Such gentle intercession.
The garden of Sir George Kingston communicated with the park; and through it the four gentlemen passed, brushing the dew from the drooping roses as they went. The night was singularly lovely:
"Such and so beautiful was that fair night,
It might have calmed the gay amid their mirth,
And given the wretched a delight in tears;"
but it had no soothing influence over human
