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6 ALICE.

The clustered chimneys —cold and cheerless now!

No wreathing smoke bids welcome to the old

Ancestral hall, vacant and desolate,

But beautiful — how beautiful! The shrubs

Grown into trees, and blossoming profuse,

As in those flowery forests where they live,

Seen but of heaven. — Ha! beneath the trees —

’Tis they! It must be they! That slender woman,

Bending her fair and patient cheek o’er work

Scarce whiter than her hands—the widow’s cap—

The close grey gown —the undying loveliness—

It is herself! And that young graceful girl,

Nor child, nor woman, who in colourless

And sculptural beauty stands, severely pure, |

Pale as a water-lily—that is Alice!

Her eyes—would I could see her eyes!— are

sealed

On that unconscious book. — I'll speak to them. [ Advancing to Mrs. Neville and Alice.

Madam, I pray you, pardon me!—This path,

So green and overgrown — doth this path lead

To Cleveland Hall?

Mrs. Neville. It doth—alas! it did, The hall is silent now and tenantless; None treads the moss-grown road. Henry. What, is there none

Within the inhospitable walls, to cheer

The poor man’s heart? Not one to ope the gate

To curious strangers, or the humbler wants |