"So
hath set all my joys. So is life to me, a world without a sun-cold,
cold, and charmless!"
The countess vainly believed that some sensibility advantageous to her
new passion had caused the agitation with which she saw him depart from
her side; and, intoxicated with the idea, she ran through many a
melodious descant, till toughing on the first strains of Thusa ha measg
na reultan mor, she saw Wallace start from his contemplative position,
and with a pale countenance leave the room. There was something in
this abruptness which excited the alarm of the Earl of Lennox, who had
also been listening to the songs; he rose instantly, and overtaking the
chief at the threshold, inquired what was the matter? "Nothing,"
answered Wallace, forcing a smile, in which the agony of his mind was
too truly imprinted; "but music displeased me." With this reply he
disappeared. The excuse seemed strange but it was true; for she whose
notes were to him sweeter than the thrush-whose angel strains used to
greet his morning and evening hours-was silent in the grave! He should
no more see her white hand upon the lute; he should no more behold that
bosom, brighter than foam upon the wave, to him? A soulless sound, or
a direful knell, to recall the remembrance of all he had lost.
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