flight, and the owlet her sad song from the ivy mantled turrets of the castle, intermingled, or rather lost at times, in the hoarse and melancholy cries of waterfowl returning to the little islands on the lake, across which came the hollow sound of a distant convent bell.
Madeline stood some minutes upon the lawn as if to enjoy sounds, which by suiting, soothed the dejection of her mind; but the kind of pleasing trance into which they lulled her, was of short continuance; all the perturbed thoughts which anxiety and attention about the Countess had, during the day, in some degree dissipated, soon returned with full power; and as she cast her eyes on the bleak and distant mountains, fancy, torturing fancy presented de Sevignie to her view, a sad and solitary wanderer about them. His head unsheltered, exposed to the unwholesome dews of night; his ideas unsettled, perhaps wandering after her, who like himself was a child of sorrow.
