this grot was extremely pleasant after their hot climb; and, when their eyes became accustomed to the dim light, they perceived a rootwork seat placed against the further end of the cave which extended but a short way into the rocks. From the roof of this cell dripped some fine stalactites; and through the circular entrance they had a view of the dell bathed in sunshine. The burn looked like a streak of silver thread winding its way among the green rushes, and the trees rose dark behind; now and then a light wind blew the vapoury mist of the fall past the cave's entrance, and for a moment everything was lightly obscured. The Earl and his fair partner sat down on the seat, and for some minutes enjoyed the sweet scene in silence. We must, however, reserve their conversation for another chapter, as this has already exceeded its bounds. CHAPTER XVII. "And plead in beauty's ear, nor plead in vain." _Pleasures of Hope._ "Thy heart is sad--thy home is far away."--_Ibid._ "Years have flown by," said the Earl, "since I saw this dell. When my feet last roamed here I was a careless boy, rambling the woods gun in hand, or, with my brothers and sisters around chasing the butterfly over hill and dale. It was with my eldest sister, now in heaven, that I last tracked the stream; it was with her by my side I last sat on this very seat. All seems unchanged,--all is as bright and fair as it was that day, except the two roamers: one is gone, and the spot brings bitter as well as blissful associations to the other." "I knew not you ever had another sister," said Ellen; "is it long since she died?" "More than ten years ago; but still I remember her words as if she had said them yesterday. Oh, what a fine, handsome creature she was! and good as well as fair; she was older than me by three years. This was her favourite haunt; it was she who gave it the name of 'Butterfly Dell;' all her thoughts were bright! It was on such another day as this we last sat together: she was unusually grave that day,--almost melancholy. 'I have a strange presentiment, Clarence,' she said, 'that I have not long to live:--you know all De Veres die young. I often think heaven will be like this,--only there the flowers will be brighter, and will not fade; the leaf will not turn sere, and there will be no sorrow, no pain. Clarence, I shall soon be there!' 'Say not so,' I answered, 'you are too young to die yet; stay with us,--do not leave us; why should you think you will die?' 'Clarence, the thought troubles me not; I am happy here, but I shall be still happier there! "I hear a voice you cannot hear, which says I must not stay; I see a hand you cannot see, which beckons me away."