erect, mute and heedless even of that voice which was as musical as its own.
"Poor prisoner!" said Brandon, "even gilt cages and sweet tones cannot compensate to thee for the loss of the air and the wild woods!"
"But," said Lucy anxiously, "it is not confinement which makes it ill! If you think so, I will release it instantly."
"How long have you had it?" asked Brandon.
"For three years!" said Lucy.
"And is it your chief favourite?"
"Yes; it does not sing so prettily as the other—but it is far more sensible, and so affectionate."
"Can you release it then?" asked Brandon, smiling; "would it not be better to see it die in your custody, than to let it live and to see it no more?"
"Oh, no, no!" said Lucy eagerly, "when I love any one—any thing—I wish that to be happy, not me!"
As she said this, she took the bird from the cage, and bearing it to the open window, kissed it,
