To this fond but fanciful rhapsody, Raphe de Merefield made no answer, except by pressing the beautiful hand which rested in his; and the half-Carib continued: “But it was not to tell you this, Raphe, that brought me here so late to-night. Come with me.” And suffering himself to be led by her, they quitted the deep recess in which they had been seated, and walked into the open ground already mentioned. Looking up the ascent above the tops of the trees, which grew in vast profusion, forming a complete barrier around, the moon-beams fell upon the roof of an irregular but commodious building. This was government house, and through an opening in the leafy enclosure, the light of a taper was seen brightly shining from a small diamond-pane casement, in one of the gable ends of the edifice. “In that room,” said the romantic girl, directing Raphe’s attention to it, “sleeps one, who, next to yourself, I love most on earth; and scornfully, harshly as her father has treated me, she must and shall be saved! Mark me, Raphe, an’ thou lovest me, guard the Lady Bridget as thou wouldst a sister. Wild spirits will be abroad ere the glad sun shall set and rise again, or yon pretty stars be peeping at us; and though I think they will care for mine as they would me, still, Raphe, I would have thee prepared. When all is over—when you and I—but I need say no more, except that Bridget shall not then be ashamed to love the despised, the scorned Zulmiera,” and as she spoke, she threw back her graceful head with the air of a Cleopatra, while the bright crimson mantled in her cheeks, and increased the lustre of her eyes.