The duenna had called Lenore from the garden early, saying, "At sunset the ship will be here; come pretty child, let us hasten to the shore," so Lenore ran and kissed the mother saying, "Mamma! mamma! the ship, with its white sails spread like the wings of a bird, is flying to us, and I must go. Oh! my snow-white pearls! my beautiful pearls!"

"Lenore! Lenore!" called the duenna, and the maiden ran away dancing, and clapping her hands, as she always did, when very happy. On came the ship till it was moored in the harbor, and with one great rush the passengers came ashore.

Lenore's eyes dilated with delight, but by-and-by an anxious suspense filled them.

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"No more! no more!" she cried, "all landed; where is the dear papa?"

The snow-white pearls were forgotten only the father filled her heart.

The duenna cast her eyes around. Don Carlos was not there, and who better than she knew that he could never return.

There was a handsome young stranger in the crowd, and, from his lordly bearing, she knew he must be a hidalgo of the old dominion, so she approached him and asked him for her master, Don Carlos.

"He is not here," said the stranger, "but I bring a rare and beautiful gift for his daughter—the famous Moorish pearls."

Lenore gave one glance at the stranger, she had seen him before in her dreams; and she trembled so that she could not move or speak.

"He is dead," said the duenna.

"He is dead," said the hidalgo, in a low35 tone, fixing his piercing eyes upon the sharp, eager face of the duenna.

Low as the words were spoken, they reached t