As he passed the piano, he touched the keys in a rambling way.

The tones he brought out were a few notes of an air he and Rosabella had sung in that same room a few months before.

He turned abruptly from the instrument, and looked out from the window in the direction of the lonely cottage, Nothing was visible but trees and a line of the ocean beyond.

But the chambers of his soul were filled with visions of Rosa.

He thought of the delightful day they had spent together, looking upon these same scenes; of their songs and caresses in the bower; of her letter, so full of love and glad surprise at the bridal arrangements she supposed he had made for her, "I really hope Lily won't insist upon staying here long," thought he; "for it is rather an embarrassing position for me." He seated himself at the piano and swept his hand up and down the keys, as if trying to drown his thoughts in a tempest of sound.