thus heavily upon his arm. Julia had loved but once. She saw his
abstraction, and knew not the cause; and her timid heart beat quicker
than was its wont, as undefined images of coming evil and sorrow, chased
each other through her excited fancy. At length she essayed to speak,
although conscious that her voice faltered.

"What a lovely night! Are you a believer in the language of the stars?"

This was said with such simplicity of manner, that Delme, as he turned
to answer her, felt truly for the first time the full force of his
attachment. He felt it the more strongly, that his mind previously had
been wandering more than it had done for years.

There are times and seasons when we are engrossed in a train of deep and
unconscious thought. Suddenly recalled to ourselves, we start from our
mental aberration, and a clearer insight into the immediate purposes and
machinery of our lives, is afforded us. We seem endowed with a more
accurate knowledge of self; the inmost workings of our souls are
abruptly revealed--feeling's mysteries stand developed--our weaknesses
stare us in the face--and our vices appear to gnaw the very vitals of
our hope. The veil was indeed withdrawn,--and Delme's heart
acknowledged, that the fair being who leant on him for support, was
dearer--far dearer, than all beside. But he saw too, ambition in that
heart's deep recess, and knew that its dictates, unopposed for years,
were totally incompatible with such a love. He saw and trembled.

Julia's question was repeated, before Sir Henry could reply.

"A soldier, Miss Vernon, is particularly susceptible of visionary ideas.
On the lone bivouac, or remote piquet, duty must frequently chase sleep