_Ar._ Yes, in the stars--when on a winter's night They stand as thick as drops of dew new frozen On the dark arch of Heaven--or when they lie Mirrowed upon the heaving sea--or steal Slowly and faint into the Summer sky-- But for these ignorant interpreters, They scarce are worth the scorn of disbelief. ANON. Aveline declared that she would not be defrauded of her ride when the evening came in all its freshness; but Mr. Haveloc said that he saw she was languid; that the morning was the proper time for exercise, and that Hakon Jarl should be his companion the next day, when he paid his respects to Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "Ah! you will come to-morrow, that is well," said Aveline, "but do not let me go quite without a ride this evening; let me take a turn just round the garden." Mr. Haveloc glanced at Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "Yes, let her," she said in a tone of despondency. The poney was brought to the window; Aveline was lifted on, and Mr. Haveloc taking the reins led him through the shrubberies, and along the broad terrace. "I wonder if he could go down the steps upon the sands," said Aveline. "He could, I have no doubt," said Mr. Haveloc, "but you--" "I should so enjoy it; riding along the sands by moonlight," said Aveline. "Oh! I am quite strong enough--never fear." Mr. Haveloc led the poney carefully down the steep steps and over the shingles to the sands, now stretching far and dry, the tide being at its lowest. "How glad I am that we live by the sea," said Aveline. "It is delightful for a part of the year," said Mr. Haveloc. "I should not care about it in winter." "But it is in winter," said Aveline, "that the waves are so rough; you should see them running against that headland on a stormy night; when you catch a glimpse of the foam tossed high against the very peak of the rock there, just when the wind has torn the clouds asunder, and let out a glimpse of the moon for an instant. I would not miss the sea in winter time. And then the hoarse sound of the waves on the shingles grows louder when mixed up with the boisterous north wind. And the surge boils and swells, and then the white froth parts and shows the dark angry water beneath. No! trees and fields are barren in winter; but there is always life in the sea!" "And this creature is all this while slowly and invisibly borne onwards to the grave," he thought, "so full of the best part of life--the intellectual!" "You are thinking!" said Aveline. "And so were you; only you thought aloud," he answered.