"The bright stars fade, the morn is breaking,
The dew-drops pearl each flower and leaf,
When I of thee my leave am taking,
With bliss too brief.
How sinks my heart with fond alarms,
The tear is hiding in mine eye,
For time doth chase me from thine arms:
Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye."
The boat was now well inshore. "Lavirotte! Lavirotte's voice, by all the gods!" cried Eugene O'Donnell, raising himself into a sitting posture. "Doing the polite--doing the lover, for all I know. Why has he stopped there? He will begin again in a moment." "When you go, Ellen, will you give me leave to bid you adieu in these words?" "Mr. Lavirotte," she said, in doubt and pain, "I am exceedingly sorry that----" "It is enough," he said. "Say no more. I am a ruined man." "He will not finish it," said O'Donnell. "He is ungallant. I will finish it for him.
"The sun is up, the lark is soaring,