The bells were tolling, when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild wood flowers, holding in his hand his favorite instrument of music--his eye continually searching for Ambulinia, who hardly seemed to perceive him, as she played carelessly with the songsters that hopped from branch to branch.

Nothing could be more striking than the difference between the two.

Nature seemed to have given the more tender soul to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous to Ambulinia.

A deep feeling spoke from the eyes of Elfonzo--such a feeling as can only be expressed by those who are blessed as admirers, and by those who are able to return the same with sincerity of heart.

He was a few years older than Ambulinia: she had turned a little into her seventeenth.