The earl returned rapturously to the drawing-room, and besought Lucy, in a voice in which affectation seemed swooning with delight, to indulge him with a song. More and more enchanted by her assent, he drew the music- stool to the harpsichord, placed a chair beside her, and presently appeared lost in transport. Meanwhile Brandon, with his back to the pair, covered his face with his handkerchief, and to all appearance yielded to the voluptuousness of an after-dinner repose. Lucy's song-book opened accidentally at a song which had been praised by Clifford; and as she sang, her voice took a richer and more tender tone than in Mauleverer's presence it had ever before assumed. THE COMPLAINT OF THE VIOLETS WHICH LOSE THEIR SCENT IN MAY. In the shadow that falls from the silent hill We slept, in our green retreats And the April showers were wont to fill Our hearts with sweets. And though we lay in a lowly bower, Yet all things loved us well, And the waking bee left her fairest flower, With us to dwell. But the warm May came in his pride to woo The wealth of our honeyed store; And our hearts just felt his breath, and knew Their sweets no more! And the summer reigns on the quiet spot Where we dwell, and its suns and showers Bring balm to our sisters' hearts, but not-- Ah! not to ours. We live, we bloom, but forever o'er Is the charm of the earth and sky; To our life, ye heavens, that balm restore, Or--bid us die! As with eyes suffused with many recollections, and a voice which melted away in an indescribable and thrilling pathos, Lucy ceased her song, Mauleverer, charmed out of himself, gently took her hand, and holding the soft treasure in his own, scarcely less soft, he murmured,-- "Angel, sing on! Life would be like your own music, if I could breathe it away at your feet!" There had been a time when Lucy would have laughed outright at this declaration; and even as it was, a suppressed and half-arch smile played in the dimples of her beautiful mouth, and bewitchingly contrasted the swimming softness of her eyes. Drawing rather an erroneous omen from the smile, Mauleverer rapturously continued, still detaining the hand which Lucy endeavoured to extricate,-- "Yes, enchanting Miss Brandon! I, who have for so many years boasted of my invulnerable heart, am subdued at last. I have long, very long, struggled against my attachment to you. Alas! it is in vain; and you behold me now utterly at your mercy. Make me the most miserable of men or the most enviable. Enchantress, speak!" "Really, my lord," said Lucy, hesitating, yet rising, and freeing herself from his hand, "I feel it difficult to suppose you serious; and perhaps this is merely a gallantry to me by way of practice on others."