rich cushions in the library, to await his arrival; and at that instant he entered—having come through the garden on purpose to surprise her.
"My beautiful masquerader, I must leave you often," said he, tenderly, "if you are to grow so much more lovely in my absence."
And lovely indeed did she look at that moment. We have before remarked that the Oriental style of dress was peculiarly well adapted to the character of her face and figure, and the passionate flush of her cheek gave even more than their usual brightness to her radiant eyes. Aubrey deemed it was delight at his return, and hastened to heap before her the many precious gifts he had brought.
"I did not forget my sweet friend in the hurry of London. Your throat is the whitest, dear one," said he, as he hung round her neck a string of precious pearls.
Supper was now brought in, and Aubrey smiled to see how carefully his favourite dishes had been provided.
"I am not hungry," said Rebecca; "but I will not talk to you now;" and taking up her lute, she began to play, and sang a few simple notes rather than words.
"You have been librarian too," exclaimed Aubrey: "I see all my scattered volumes have been collected: why, what should I do without you?"
"You would miss me?" and laying aside the lute, she came and rested her head on his shoulder,
