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 to take her lute—a request, which Madeline attempted not to refuse. In the present state of her mind sad or solemn strains were alone congenial to her feelings, and she selected a hymn to the Supreme Being, celebrating his goodness, and the happiness prepared for those hereafter, who patiently support the trials of this life. Just depressed by a conviction of its sufferings, Madeline derived a kind of divine consolation from words, which gave so consoling an assurance of their being rewarded. At first her voice was weak, and her touch faint and tremulous; but by degrees, as if animated by the subject, her voice regained its strength, and her hand its steadiness; and high on the swelling notes her soul seemed ascending to that heaven, whose glories appeared opening to her view, when a deep sigh, or rather sob, suddenly startled her. Her hand involuntarily rested on the strings, o'er which it was lightly sweeping, and she cast an eager glance towards the Countess. How great was her surprise—her consternation, to see