assorted union every year producing greater distaste an overpowering love for a woman in every way suited and worthy of him; these facts should palliate his folly. I know the world judges very hardly in these cases. I am inclined to think, where love no longer unites, a marriage is really dissolved; it is a greater crime to live in such thraldom than to cut asunder the tie."

St. Clare spoke with earnestness; he seemed thoroughly moved. Mrs. Mayne shook her head, and sighing, remarked, she "was shocked at such opinions; surely it was the increase of dissent and the education of servants that produced it."

Ethel had listened with eagerness to St. Clare's words, and, judging by her countenance, appeared to be quite as much shocked as Mrs. Mayne. Always appealing to Harriett to decide all questions of perplexity, she said:

"Can anything excuse a man leaving his wife, and marrying some one else, Harriett ?"

VOL. II.

L

"Nothing on earth," replied Harriett, with decision. At which prompt reply, Talbot glanced at her, and shrugged his shoulders; and seeing that his guests were becoming rather excited over this discussion, again called on St. Clare for his song..

St. Clare turned over the leaves of his little book, looked at a few pages, hesitated, and then rejected them. "You will not mind naming the poem you prefer, Miss Gresham, if you can tolerate any of the writings of this very wicked man ?”

"Oh, yes! I like some of them very much." Ethel took the book and searched

for one. “I could not understand all, but there is one—here it is; it has an unpronounceable name-Epy-Epy-”

"Ah! 'Epipsychidion'!" cried St. Clare. "I might sing some of that." He regarded Ethel searchingly, as she returned him the book, and said, with emphasis, “You wish me to sing this?"

"To be sure,” replied Ethel, carelessly,

unconscious of the deep meaning in his voice.

He bowed in silence; and taking his place on the music-stool, placed the book on the stand before him, opened at the poem Ethel had indicated.

He read a few lines, considered for a moment, with his hand to his brow, then struck a few chords of exceeding pathos and sadness, as a prelude to the melody, to which he sang:

"Spouse! Sister! Angel! Pilot of the Fate

Whose course has been so starless! O, too late
Beloved! O, too soon adored by me!
For in the fields of immortality

My spirit should at first have worshipped thine-
A divine presence in a place divine :

Or should have moved beside it on this earth,
A shadow of that substance from its birth;

But not as now: I love thee; yes, I feel
That on the fountain of my heart a seal
Is set, to keep its waters pure and bright

For thee, since in those tears thou hast delight.
We are we not formed, as notes of music are,
For one another, though dissimilar;

Such difference without discord, as can make
Those sweetest sounds in which all spirits shake
As trembling leaves in a continuous air ??

The music was soft and tender; and it

became evident to the hearers that the singer had a beautiful voice-not so very powerful or very highly cultivated, as naturally clear and euphonious. It was the voice of a tuneful and harmonious nature; a voice revealing the inner being of the man, making your heart draw closer to him as he sang.

As St. Clare proceeded, he gained confidence and power; his voice, which had trembled on the first few notes, now rang through the room. All were astonished; some touched. Harriett's heart beat fast; she knew Talbot was gazing at her; she feared to encounter his glance; she knew that, moved by the spell of that music, her pride and reserve would melt, and her eyes would reveal the treacherous tenderness still lingering in her heart.

Ethel sat, with clasped hands and upturned face, like one enthralled; the song, its wild words, and the pathetic music, completely mastered her; and before it was

ended, she found the tears running down her cheeks; they came faster and faster, until, ashamed and overcome, unskilled in self-control, she gave way, and covered her face with her hands. The singing ceased. Ethel looked up, looked towards St. Clare; but he was not seated by the piano-he was not in the room.

"St. Clare has gone into the gallery to try the organ," said Talbot, observing her inquiring look; "shall we follow him?" And he looked towards Harriett. In the gallery he might avoid Mrs. Mayne, and have an opportunity to whisper a few words of contrition.

"Oh! yes," said Ethel, "I should like to hear the organ;" and she jumped up quickly, and followed Lord Talbot to the door. He opened it, let her pass in first, then looked back at Harriett; but as she made no attempt to move from her seat, he abandoned his project, and went back into the drawing-room. "At all events," he