"All?" exclaimed Arabella, shaking her finger at him. "Fie upon such democracy in love! In that, at least, I would be a monarch, and reign alone, or not at all. But, pray send for this rare instrument, Sir Harry; I would fain try how it will sound under my weak fingers." "Add but your voice, and the music will be sweet enough," said William Seymour, while the old knight went himself to bring the lute. But Arabella replied not; and a shade of deep sadness passed across her fair face for a moment. "He is tuning it," she said, the instant after, bending her ear to listen to some sounds which came from a neighbouring chamber. "He is a kind and excellent man." When Sir Harry re-entered the room, she took the lute, and after running her hand for a moment over the strings, sang one of those little ballads which perhaps obtained for her a place in Evelyn's list of fair poets. SONG. "Who is the boy comes stealing here, With looks demure and mild? Keep off! keep off! Let him not near! There's malice in that child. "Yet, see, he plays amidst the flowers, As innocent as they; His smile as bright as summer hours, His eyes as soft as May. "Beauty and Grace his vestments are; To sport seems all his joy. Gaze if thou wilt, but keep him far, There's danger in the boy. "How various are his gladsome smiles, His every look is bright; Sure there can be no wicked wiles Within that thing of light! "Lo, he holds out a flower to me, A rosebud like a gem! Keep him afar! Dost thou not see The thorns upon the stem? "Vain was the warning given; the maid Clasped to her heart the boy; But could not pluck him thence. He stayed, And stayed but to destroy. "Sweet Love, let others be beguiled, Thy treacherous arts I fear, Keep afar off, thou dangerous child! Thou shalt not come too near!"