rest. It evidently contained no one who was struck beyond measure, or prosaic description, with the beauty of the night; nor one who was abroad merely to enjoy a trip of pleasure, for it cut its way through the many vessels, passing the proud and humble alike, without heeding either. Its master every spectator must instantly have construed to be a person of high rank, for the vessel was of the most approved fashion, and decorated with many costly ornaments, although as to the number of rowers, some would have said—judging from the paucitythat ostentation was either studiously avoided, or that the party regarded a narrow economy, unless indeed the object of secrecy might have been sedulously considered. On the vessel went, the moon-beams glancing on the white blades of the oars, which appeared, as they at every stroke rose from the lake, to distil pearls; for so did the moon's soft ray gem the drops that fell from them. Anon the gondola turned a distant corner, and was lost to the motley throng, and shortly lessening its speed, drifted against the base of a flight of broad white steps, which led upwards to a tall iron gate firmly fixed in a white wall, and through the bars of which a noble garden was visible. The tops of the trees were just to be seen over the wall, and were tipped with the moon-beams, whilst with these new honours on their brows, they nodded gently to the breeze.

Immediately on the vessel's touching the step the gondolier linked her to a small hook fixed in the balustrade for that purpose. Soon the curtains were drawn apart, and there passed from beneath the canopy a young man, over whose head twenty summers had barely sped; he stepped lightly on the stairs, and there in the full moonlight exhibited the perfect symmetry of his faultless figure, arrayed in the costly dress of the cavaliers of the time ;-in all respects he was a model of that manly beauty which so peculiarly characterised the Italian youths. But how pale, pale as the snowy feather that waved in his cap! He stretched forth his hand, and instantly his servant, who understood the sign, presented to him a lute. He took it with a sorrowful air, and then drew from it a plaintive tune, accompanied with equally melancholy words. The "love call" is over; he hands back the lute, and dismisses the gondolier. He now mounts the steps, and by means of a small key stands within the garden, when a light form is seen to pass through the odorous and spangled flowers to meet him whose voice was unspeakably dear to her. She has sped through the dark myrtle trees, her blue eyes lit up with joy, and her long bright tresses gilding as it were the marble of her neck. And now she stands in the brilliancy of her beauty and youth before her pale and icy lover.

"Dearest Antonio, how unkind of you to come so late, and what a mournful air you played. Have you brought my flowers?" And she paused, marvelling that he met her not with his usual warmth, and marking his demeanour with the utmost tenderness as she gently laid her hand upon his arm. "Sig

nor Antonio," she exclaimed, withdrawing her hand, for she was desperately proud, and on the slightest provocation would for the moment forget her love, though that love was deep as the love of Italian maids,—“ methinks your bearing is strangely cold and distant; will it please you tell wherefore you withhold your wonted greeting? Well, Signor, I have more courteous cavaliers in my father's halls, whither, under favour, I shall retire; and when Signor Antonio Faliero has aroused himself from his dreams, he has his choice either of following me or of descending those steps mounted to so little purpose." And with this haughty speech she was about to return to the brilliantly-illuminated palace, whose lights gleamed through the trees, but the low voice of the youth arrested her.

"Stay, Florence Corelli; I came not to hold long converse with thee, and my errand had been done ere now, but that my lips played rebel, and would not utter what they still must. I am here to redeem my heart from the keeping of a wanton!"

"How!" cried Florence, her tall figure assuming its greatest dignity. "Son of the Doge, as thou art, Faliero, thou darest not with impunity use that name to me !"

"Lady Florence Corelli," returned the youth, warmly, "I have chosen the mildest term for one who has acted so foully. But hear me, for by the Holy Virgin, hear thou shalt, that I have this night heard the name of the proud, the gifted, the beautiful Florence tossed over the wine cup of the veriest hound, profligate, and libertine in Venice. Oh! that thou shouldst stoop to such dust as that, when there is not a tire-woman in all Venice that would not scorn the touch of Nicholas Pasquali !"

"Antonio!” cried the accused, for the instant forgetting the bitter and foul charge preferred against her, "name not that man, I implore ye !"

"I see," answered Antonio, "what your crafty skill would aim at, but I scorn such subterfuges as you would now enact. I am gone; I meant not to have lingered so long. And now, Lady Florence Corelli, farewell for ever!"

She spoke not, moved not, so amazed and stupified was she at the wild words she had just heard; she saw him pass away; but not until his long shrill note on a small silver whistle recalled his gondola did she arouse from the lethargy into which she had fallen. At length words came to her relief, ejaculating and weeping, "Soft glide thy boat, Antonio, to a happy haven, and mayest thou never know how thou art deceived, and the hapless Florence wronged!"

Next morning Antonio Faliero awoke with a terrible headache: he had in his despair dealt too freely with the wine cup. He called for his valet, and enjoined the man to provide a passage to England for themselves

alone. "In the meanwhile," he continued, "let my gondola be got ready and brought round to the stairs instantly;" for he bethought him that he was bound to return the lock of hair, the scented gloves, the portraits and letters which he had received from Lady Florence in happier days. Accordingly once again he made towards the garden-gate of her father's palace. And now he has reached the bower where he had passed so many sunny unsuspecting hours with her, and from which it was his frequent practice to lead her to his boat, there to spend the twilight serene moments upon the waters, the envied and the undisturbed. Immediately above the bower was a terrace, raised to the height of the walls, which overlooked the broad Lagune. It had been built for the purpose of witnessing any revels or mummings that might be held on the waters, which were of more common occurrence than in these latter days. Now, as Antonio stood within the bower, and threw down the packet containing the pledges of his once trusted mistress, he fancied he heard the mingled sound of voices. Yes; it was the voice of Florence Corelli in conversation with the infamous Nicholas Pasquali; yet did it seem that they spoke more in anger than in tenderness. Antonio's curiosity and jealousy got the better of his delicacy, and he resolved to play the part of eavesdropper. Silently he ascended the winding steps, grasping his sword lest it should strike against the marble projecting balusters, and, astounded, was the witness of what is now to be described.

Behold Florence Corelli, her countenance flushed, her eyes sparkling with indignation, and flashing their fires of scorn on the being before her, her tall figure drawn to its fall height-her breast heaving with the strugglings of pride and grief-while Pasquali, with a cool, malignant look of scorn and triumph confronts her.

"Signor Pasquali!” cried Florence haughtily, “first intrusion and then insult; under what authority, or by what encouragement, do you dare thus address me? As you have so far yourself forgotten the rank you ought to uphold, and the character you should strive to preserve, it is not to be supposed that I remember them. My father's domestics shall on the instant expel you from a place you have so rudely entered, and having entered so uncourteously, disgraced. 'I have already borne sufficient insult and contumely from one, and I can bear it; but such from you I scorn while I chastise;" and she prepared to leave the terrace, standing within a yard of Antonio.

"Stay, proud damsel," cried [Pasquale," and listen to me-for listen thou shalt." Saying this he rudely seized her arm

Antonio's blood boiled as he marked the outrage; but he still restrained himself.

"It is well. Now hark ye! You have already felt my power; beware how