for her bouquets of the choicest exotics, as he soon ascertained her passion for flowers.

But there was one gift which Jessy possessed in a supereminent degree; she was a perfect musician-no expense or pains had been spared to render her excellence complete in this her favourite accomplishment.

Never was there a diviner voice than Jessy's -rich, deep, mournful-a voice that spoke to the heart irresistibly, and entranced all her listeners.

For hours together Herbert would hang over her chair whilst she sang the most beautiful compositions of the Italian and German schools, in a style, and with a deep, earnest expression that would have fully realized the conceptions of the gifted authors.

Herbert loved music passionately, and when sometimes, at the close of a song, he would seize Jessy's hand in an ecstasy, and silently thank her by a look of intense feeling, her heart would leap for joy, and the blissful thought, that she was beloved, entered her

young and enthusiastic soul. Ah! how she would brood over the memory of those looks, and treasure up each soft tone, and kind word, and soothing attention! And thus she mused and mused, till conjecture grew to certainty; and, finally, she gave up her whole soul to an engrossing passion.

The brilliant, courted, and followed beauty, cannot form an idea of the intensity with which the poor orphan thought over this her solitary, blessed hope.

But this airy fabric of sweet dreams was at length rudely dashed to the ground; Herbert Sedley became devoted to another; he had never felt more than a brother's affection for the hapless Jessy, and she had construed his kind attentions into fervent love.

Her rival was so surpassingly lovely, accomplished, and fascinating, that the poor girl saw at a glance the utter hopelessness of competi

tion.

The shock was terrible. Her ill-governed sensibility had been fully engrossed; she fancied

that she had encountered the arbiter of her destiny. She had read in those eyes which gazed on her with such interest, the immortality of love. She had exclaimed, in the fulness of her joy, "Happiness is not a fableconstancy is not a dream."

A few months elapse, and

There is that come over her brow and eye,

Which speaks of a world where the flowr's must die.

MRS. HEMANS.

Her step is languid, her buoyancy and exuberance of spirits quenched; the golden cord of hope has snapped suddenly, and thrown her roughly to the earth.

Then came the struggle to regain the spell which embellished her life-the wearing suspense-the sickening disappointment.

Sir Herbert Sedley married the beautiful being who had thus unconsciously blighted poor Jessy's existence, and with his fair bride departed on a tour of some months. The Dowager Lady Sedley suspected not the agony

which consumed her young charge, for Jessy was supported by her pride through this great trial, and even the marriage ceremony and Sir Herbert Sedley's parting kiss were borne by her with unflinching firmness. Jessy watched the receding carriage, which conveyed them from the house, till it was lost to sight. She felt that she had looked her last of Herbert Sedley for long long months-perhaps for ever, and as this desolating certainty fixed itself in her heart, all else seemed to her as nothing.

A year elapsed, and Jessy Gardiner became the wife of a good-natured, weak man, who had long loved her. She married him without feeling for him the slightest preference, but to inhabit the same house with Herbert, and to witness the daily happiness of his beautiful bride, was a torture too great for her to endure, and as she had neither home nor fortune, in a moment of desperation she accepted the offer of Major Bently.

Herbert Sedley was a being of no ordinary nature. His high forehead seemed the seat of

His

serenity, and the expression of his clear blue eyes was calm and unruffled. Yet was he capable of strong and lasting emotions. manner was rather cold than impassioned; yet when with those he loved, there was a thrilling tenderness in his eyes which stirred the very soul. His voice was low and harmonious, and his language rich and pure.

Herbert Sedley was by no means an adept in concealing his feelings; at least, though his thorough politeness prevented any demonstration of ennui or disgust in his manner, which might wound the feelings of others he could not look enraptured when he was in reality not interested, neither could he express himself enthusiastically respecting what he did not admire. When he really did approve or admire, it was done with a fervour and heartfelt sincerity, worth all the affected ecstacies in the world.

His sensitiveness was extraordinary; he had been gifted by nature with the acutest perception of the just and beautiful, and a word, look,