A dark dream
  Of hearts estranged, and of an Eden lost
  Entranced my being; one absorbing thought
  Which, if not torture, was a dull despair
  That agony were light to.  But while sad
  Within the desert of my life I roamed,
  And no sweet springs of love gushed for to greet
  My wearied heart, behold two spirits came
  Floating in light, seraphic ministers,
  The semblance of whose splendour on me fell
  As on some dusky stream the matin ray,
  Touching the gloomy waters with its life. 
  And both were fond, and one was merciful! 
  And to my home long forfeited they bore
  My vagrant spirit, and the gentle hearth. 
  I reckless fled, received me with its shade
  And pleasant refuge.  And our softened hearts
  Were like the twilight, when our very bliss
  Calls tears to soothe our rapture; as the stars
  Steal forth, then shining smiles their trembling ray
  Mixed with our tenderness; and love was there
  In all his manifold forms; the sweet embrace,
  And thrilling pressure of the gentle hand,
  And silence speaking with the melting eye!

  IV.

  And now again I feel thy breath, O spring! 
  And now the seal hath fallen from my gaze,
  And thy wild music in my ready ear
  Finds a quick echo!  The discordant world
  Mars not thy melodies; thy blossoms now
  Are emblems of my heart; and through my veins
  The flow of youthful feeling, long pent up,
  Glides like thy sunny streams!  In this fair scene,
  On forms still fairer I my blessing pour;
  On her the beautiful, the wise, the good,
  Who learnt the sweetest lesson to forgive;
  And on the bright-eyed daughter of our love,
  Who soothed a mother, and a father saved!

CHAPTER II.

Between the reconciliation of Lady Annabel Herbert with her husband, at the Armenian convent at Venice, and the spring morning in the Apennines, which we have just described, half a year had intervened.  The political position of Marmion Herbert rendered it impossible for him to remain in any city where there was a representative of his Britannic Majesty.  Indeed, it was scarcely safe for him to be known out of America.  He had quitted that country shortly after the struggle was over, chiefly from considerations for his health.  His energies had been fast failing him; and a retired life and change of climate had been recommended by his physicians.  His own feelings induced him to visit Italy, where he had once intended to pass his life, and where he now repaired to await death.  Assuming a feigned name, and living in strict seclusion, it is probable that his presence would never have been discovered; or, if detected, would not have been noticed.  Once more united with his wife, her personal influence at the court of St. James’, and her powerful connections, might secure him from annoyance; and Venetia had even