Its sandy beach, against which the tide beat in dalliance--the chafed spray catching and reflecting the glories of the setting sun--ran smoothly up a slope of some thirty yards; beyond which, the orange trees, in their greenest foliage, chequered with their shade the white cottages scattered above them. The busy hum of the fishermen on the coast--the splash of the casting net--and the drip of the oar--were appropriate accompaniments to the simple scene. On the Sicilian side, a different view wooed attention. There, old Etna upreared his encumbered head, around which the smoke clung in dense majesty; and--not contemptible rivals of the declining deity--the moon's silvery crescent, and the evening star's quiet splendour, were bedecking the cloudless blue of the firmament. Acmé gazed enraptured on the scene--her long tresses hanging back on the chair, across which one hand was languidly thrown. "Giorgio," said she, "do you see this beautiful bird close to the ship--swimming so steadily--its snowy plumage apparently unwet from its contact with the wave? To what can you compare it?" "That bright-eyed gull, love!" replied he, "riding on the water as if all regardless that he is on the wide--wide sea--whose billows may so soon be lashed up to madness;--where may I find a resemblance more close, than my Acmé's simplicity, which guides her through a troubled world, unknowing its treacheries, and happily ignorant of its dangers and its woes?" "Ah!" said the blushing girl, "how poetical you are this evening; will you tell us a story, Giorgio?" "_I_ will tell you one," said Delmé, interrupting her. "Do you recollect old Featherstone, who had been in the civil service in India, and who lived so near Delmé Park, George?" "Perfectly," said his brother, "I remember I used to think him mad, because he always looked so melancholy, and used to send us word in the morning when he contemplated a visit; in order that all cats might be kept out of his way." "The very man! I am glad you know so much about him, for it is on this subject I was going to speak. I cannot tell you where he picked up the idea originally--but I believe in a dream--that a cat would occasion his death. "Well! he was at Ascot one year, when a gipsy woman came up to him on the course--told him his fortune--and, to his utter astonishment, warned him to beware of the wild cat. "From that moment, I understand his habits changed. From being a tolerably cheerful companion, he became a wretched hypochondriac; all his energies being directed to the avoiding a contact with any of the feline race. "Featherstone, two or three years ago, embarked in one of the mining speculations--lost great part of his fortune--and found it necessary to try and retrieve his affairs, by a second voyage to India.