"Oh, ye bright and glorious wanderers of the night! had you voices, as men dreamed in days of old, to tell the fate of those born under your influence, how gladly would I ask the destiny of those who here stand and gaze upon you! Say, Arcturus!--wilt thou take me in thy car, and let me see the storms and tempests that wait my onward course and that of the dear girl beside me? Or thou, planet of love and hope, just climbing the hill of heaven!--wilt thou tell me whether the seeds which have been sown in our hearts under thine influence will bud and blossom into the flowers we dream of? Shall we go on hand in hand together, even unto the end, as hitherto we have lived, in deep affection? Shall the ties which bind us in nearer kindred unite our hearts still more closely? or, shall the love that knows no sharer wean us of our youthful tenderness towards each other? I ask not to hear what will be the frowns or smiles of Fortune--whether the dull earth's wealth will be augmented or diminished--whether we shall meet reverse, accident, or care--ay, or even poverty or early death. I only ask, shall we love and be beloved? for surely that is to know enough of fate;" and turning away towards Maria, she leaned her brow upon her fair friend's shoulder. For a moment or two Maria was silent; and then she said, in a low tone-- "If the stars could have answered you, would you have asked them, Anne?" "Yes, yes," eagerly replied Lady Anne. "Would not you, Maria?" "I think so," answered Maria; "yet sometimes, perhaps, it were better not to know our fate." "Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Lady Anne; "doubt is always horrible." "Yes; but there may be trust without knowledge, faith without comprehension," replied her fair friend. "I have both, although the future is very dark and impenetrable to me just now." "Oh, it shall be bright!" cried Lady Anne. "Mine shall be the voice of those brilliant stars, which, rolling millions of miles above all earthly things, may well see, stretched out beneath their eyes of living light, the past, the present, and the future of each existing thing. Oh, yes; it shall be bright, Maria! For you the future hours are weaving a many-blossomed wreath. First is the early bud of love, now full-blossomed to a rose; and then the clustering lily-of-the-vale, to speak domestic happiness and peace; the passionate violet, hiding its intense blue eyes in the shade, and spreading rapture's perfume round; and the proud imperial lily, portrait of high station and the world's esteem: the pansy, too, imaging the sunshine of the breast, and pure, enduring faith; and the linked hyacinth with its many buds. All, all are there, sweet sister, for you and him you love: and the wandering seasons, as they pass along, shall not unfold a flower or ripen a fruit that shall not fall into your hand----" "If your wishes can command fate," said Maria, "it is the voice of hope and not of the stars you speak, dear Anne."