surely he had seen the vision before! One long moment its effect
upon him was as real as if he had been actually deceived as to
its nature: was it not the shore between Scaurnose and Portlossie,
betwixt the Boar's Tail and the sea? and was not that the marquis,
his father, in his dressing gown, pacing to and fro upon the
sands? He yielded himself to illusion--abandoned himself to the
wonderful, and looked only for what would come next.

A lovely lady entered: to his excited fancy it was Florimel. A
moment more and she spoke.


If by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.

Then first he understood that before him rose in wondrous realization
the play of Shakspere he knew best--the first he had ever read:
The Tempest, hitherto a lovely phantom for the mind's eye, now
embodied to the enraptured sense. During the whole of the first act
he never thought either of Miranda or Florimel apart. At the same
time so taken was he with the princely carriage and utterance of
Ferdinand that, though with a sigh, he consented he should have
his sister.

The drop scene had fallen for a minute or two before he began
to look around him. A moment more and he had commenced a thorough
search for his sister amongst the ladies in the boxes. But when at
length he found her, he dared not fix his eyes upon her lest his
gaze should make her look at him, and she should recognise him.
Alas, her eyes might have rested on him twenty times without his