"Oh, I am a very bad musician," replied the young officer; "I cannot even accompany myself. If you will, and have any of the few things I know, I shall be very happy.--In everything, one can but try," he added, in a low voice, "still hoping for the best." Zara looked over her collection of music with him; and at last she opened one song which was somewhat popular in those times, though it has long fallen into well-merited oblivion. "Can you venture to sing that?" she asked, pointing to the words rather than the music; "it is quite a soldier's song." Sir Edward Digby read the first line; and thinking he observed a double meaning in her question, he answered, "Oh, yes, that I will, if you will consent to accompany me." Zara smiled, and sat down to the instrument again; and the reader must judge from the song itself whether the young officer's conjecture that her words had an enigmatical sense was just or not. THE OFFICER'S SONG. "A star is still beaming Beyond the grey cloud; Its light rays are streaming, With nothing to shroud; And the star shall be there When the clouds pass away; Its lustre unchanging, Immortal its ray. "'Tis the guide of the true heart, In field, or on sea; 'Tis the hope of the slave, And the trust of the free; The light of the lover, Whatever assail; The strength of the honest, That never can fail. "Waft, waft, thou light wind, From the peace-giving ray, The vapours of sorrow, That over it stray; And let it pour forth, All unshrouded and bright, That those who now mourn, May rejoice in its light." "God grant it!" murmured the voice of Sir Robert Croyland. Zara said, "Amen," in her heart; and in a minute or two after, her father rose, and left the room. During the rest of the evening, nothing very important occurred in Harbourne House. Mrs. Barbara played her usual part, and would contribute to Sir Edward Digby's amusement in a most uncomfortable manner. The following morning, too, went by without any incident of importance, till about ten o'clock, when breakfast just being over, and Zara having been called from the room by her maid, Sir Robert's butler announced to his master, that the groom had returned from Mr. Croyland's. "Where is the note?" demanded his master, eagerly. "He has not brought one, Sir Robert," replied the servant, "only a message, sir, to say that Mr. Croyland is very sorry he cannot spare the horses to-day, as they were out a long way yesterday."