{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_39274/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_39274","id":"gutenberg_39274","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39274","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Children's stories","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: ESGAIR.\n   _Frontispiece._]\n\n\n\nBARON BRUNO;\nOR,\nTHE UNBELIEVING PHILOSOPHER,\n\nAnd other Fairy Stories.\n\n\nBY\n\nLOUISA MORGAN.\n\n\n_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY R. CALDECOTT._\n\n\nLondon:\nMACMILLAN AND CO.\n1875.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                       PAGE\n\nBARON BRUNO AND THE STARS; OR, THE UNBELIEVING\nPHILOSOPHER                                               3\n\nESGAIR: THE BRIDE OF LLYN IDWYL                          49\n\nEOTHWALD: THE YOUNG SCULPTOR                             91\n\nFIDO AND FIDUNIA                                        115\n\nEUDAEMON; OR, THE ENCHANTER OF THE NORTH                 199\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\n                                                       PAGE\n\nESGAIR                                       _Frontispiece._\n\nVIGNETTE                                            _Title._\n\n\"THE DREAMER STARTED FROM HIS CHAIR\"                      8\n\nBARON BRUNO AND ALCYONE                                  22\n\nEOTHWALD AND DUVA IN THE CAVE                           102\n\nFIDO AND FIDUNIA                                        123\n\nFIDO AND FIDUNIA                                        170\n\nEUDAEMON                                                 199\n\n\n\n\nBARON BRUNO AND THE STARS;\n\nOR,\n\nThe Unbelieving Philosopher.\n\n\nBaron Bruno was the Prime Minister of the Hereditary Grand Duke of\nRumpel Stiltzein. Besides being Prime Minister, he was the cleverest\nman in the kingdom. This is saying a good deal, for were there not\n(besides all the men of science, the physicians, the literati, and the\ngreat philosophers of the day) the General-in-Chief of the Grand-Ducal\narmy, Prince Edlerkopf; the great High Almoner, Herr von Pfenig; and\nalso the accomplished Graf von Wild Kranz, the most able lawyer and the\npolitest man about court? So humble and gentle, indeed, were his\nmanners, that strangers sometimes took it upon themselves to dispute\nthe opinion of their modest neighbour. But such hardy persons seldom\nrepeated the experiment after Wild Kranz had completely overturned\ntheir arguments in his quiet, hesitating tone, with a shrewd glance of\nenjoyment twinkling in his small wary eye; and woe to the man who a\nsecond time opposed his will or challenged his decision.\n\nVery different was Baron Bruno. Impetuous, fiery, and caustic, gifted\nwith inexhaustible memory, and brimming over with barbed sarcasm, he\nwas often misunderstood and disliked in the outer world, but invariably\nbeloved by those who knew him intimately.\n\nPfenig and Edlerkopf were devoted friends, as well as ministers at\ncourt. They had been educated together, and while Edlerkopf lent to the\ncounsels of state the aid of wise and deliberate judgment and the\nweight of his nobly impartial character, Pfenig was the most wonderful\nmanager of the public purse, and could not only calculate the incoming\nrevenue within a hairsbreadth, but could also regulate government\nexpenditure so exactly as to keep all departments amply supplied, and\nyet preserve a due regard to economy.\n\nYou may well imagine that with four ministers such as these the Grand\nDuke had little difficulty in maintaining peace and contentment in his\nbeautiful kingdom of Rumpel Stiltzein; and that from every side\nartisans, labourers, and mechanics flocked to the small domain, within\nwhose narrow boundaries prosperity sat enthroned. To add to his\nhappiness, the Grand Duchess became the proud mother of twin children,\nthe spirited handsome Prince Bertrand and the lovely gentle Princess\nBerta. They were now in their tenth year, and seemed only born to give\npleasure and hope to their parents and to the whole principality.\n\nEdlerkopf, Wild Kranz and Pfenig were all married, but Bruno had a\nsolitary home; and no one without ocular demonstration would have\nbelieved in what a shabby den this great statesman passed much of his\ntime. In his town-house he had magnificent saloons, where all that was\nfair and choice delighted his guests; but near the roof of this\ndwelling, and far above the haunts of men, there, like the eagle, Bruno\nhad his eyrie, where, with ill-concealed impatience, he would hardly\neven permit the cleaning incursions of his maids, and few and far\nbetween were the footsteps that trod those time-worn boards. Here the\nBaron sat surrounded by dusty piles of books, now poring intently over\nthe records of the past, now eagerly scanning the papers of the day,\nnow striding up and down the narrow chamber, composing his speech for\nthe Reichstag, or dashing off answers to his numerous correspondents.\nThere also at the threshold would pause the faithful messengers who\nbore from minister to minister the secret boxes of state papers, and\nwaited to obtain from each his signature before proceeding on their\nrounds.\n\nA few steps and a small door led from the sanctuary which I have\ndescribed to the roof. Here Bruno had a little observatory on one side\nfitted up with a revolving cupola; so that when he sat in the centre of\nthis round miniature house he could turn his telescope, without himself\nmoving, upon any part of the heavens, and seek with keen unfaltering\neye the verification of calculations he had made, or diligently mark\nthe alteration and movement among the visible planets. But the rest of\nthe roof was a free uncovered space, upon which a comfortable chair and\nrug, generally kept within the observatory, to be safe from the wear\nand tear of the elements, were often placed. From this lonely elevated\nseat the Baron would then study the myriads of stars with his own\nunaided and unerring vision, until they became to him dear and\nwell-known companions.\n\nDuring such silent hours of the night, when all around teemed with\nnature's glorious presence, Bruno indulged in long soliloquies.\nSometimes he pondered curiously over the strange difference between\nhimself and his colleagues. He well knew that, when weary with the\nlengthened debates and vitiated air of the Reichstag (which often\nextended its sittings till long after midnight), Pfenig and Edlerkopf\nhastened home to their faithful wives, and derived from their society a\npleasure little short of bliss; and found endless interest in watching\nand fostering the mental and physical growth of their children; while\nWild Kranz, though often delayed in his law chambers till near\ndaybreak, (the keenest and hardest lawyer of his day,) considered no\nhappiness like the sacred domestic felicity he also experienced when\nsurrounded by his family. When these and other similar reflections\nweighed on Bruno's mind, he would lift his piercing eyes heavenward,\nand, shrugging his shoulders, murmur, half aloud: \"O, ye stars! ye are\nwife and children to me. As I gaze alone on you by night, I feel a\nsecret satisfaction surpassing the keenest emotions experienced by\nthese weak dreamers in their so-called felicity. O, immortal heavens!\nenfold me in your vast space, and teach a finite mortal to comprehend\nin faint measure your infinite beauty and eternal unswerving laws.\"\nBruno's fervid nature suffered no chill from such midnight exposure;\nhis iron frame was proof against fatigue; his restless intellect but\nseldom needed or courted repose.\n\nIt was a hot night in July, worried and jaded, after a wearisome debate\nin the Reichstag, the Baron walked through the empty streets. The\nlatest revellers were already housed, a strange hush hung over the\nnoisy, populous city, and refreshing breezes blew on his burning brow,\nas he at length reached his home, and ascended to his upper chamber.\nWith a sigh of contentment he stepped on the roof, and prepared to\nenjoy his well-earned repose. Throwing himself into his easy-chair, and\ndrawing his soft rug across his feet, he became absorbed in the\ncontemplation of the firmament above.\n\nAs the night wore on, thoughts, till now strangers to him, took\npossession of his mind. A new yearning for companionship awoke in his\nworld-wearied bosom. In vague, uneasy discontent with his solitary\ncondition, he turned restlessly from side to side, and at length\nexclaimed aloud: \"To you, distant stars! I nightly offer the homage of\na constant worshipper; would that you in return could give me to know\nthe spell of love, and teach me what it is that inspires the painter,\nthe poet, and the lover.\"\n\nHardly had the thought crossed his mind, or the half-uttered words\nrisen to his lips, when a meteor fell swiftly rushing from the stars on\nwhich he gazed. He strove to follow it with his eye, but was dazzled by\nthe blinding flash of light. For a moment fire seemed to surround him.\nWhen the bright glow became less intense, lo! upon the roof near at\nhand, where that vivid ray had fallen, shone a shimmering shape. The\ndreamer started from his chair. Bewildered and entranced, he deemed her\nthe creature of his imagination; and surely mortal eye had never beheld\na form so fair. In trailing garments of palest azure there stood the\nperfect ideal of a poet's dream. From her hair gleamed a faint\neffulgence, and her deep tender eyes sent a strange thrill to the\nphilosopher's heart.\n\n  [Illustration: THE DREAMER STARTED FROM HIS CHAIR.\n   P. 8.]\n\nThe burden of many years fell from Bruno; the ardour of youth rushed\nthrough his veins; ambition, politics, calculations, all disappeared\nlike fallen leaves before the autumn wind; and in agitated tones he\nbesought his beautiful visitant to tell him whence she came.\n\n\"Son of earth!\" replied the fair unknown, \"thou hast watched and loved\nour stars for long years. We in our turn have known thee, and have\nguarded thee and thy fortunes in many a time of danger. Thou wouldest\nknow the spell of love. It is even now awakening within thy rugged\nbreast; but beware! Thou hast disbelieved in immortality, and doubted\nthe eternal power of our great Creator. We love thee! we yearn to save\nthy soul! We long to soften thee through human affection; that when thy\npoor earth is no more, thou mayst find an everlasting home, where\n\n    'Infinite day excludes the night,\n    And pleasures banish pain.'\n\nI--Alcyone, sent by my sisters--I am here to speed thine upward way.\"\n\nBruno, spell-bound, eagerly listened. Deeply enamoured of the lovely\nmessenger, he succeeded in winning from the fair denizen of the stars\nher consent to remain with him on one condition. She stipulated that\nshe should be permitted every month to spend the evening hours of this\nself-same night entirely alone beneath the canopy of heaven, without\ninterruption or intrusion, for her life depended on the due observance\nof this time of \"retreat.\"\n\nShe also added, falteringly, that if her faith were once doubted she\nmust quit for ever the pleasant paths of human fellowship, and be\nclaimed again by her immortal sisters. The Baron gladly vowed to keep\nwhat seemed to him such wondrously simple promises by which to gain so\npeerless a bride. The time passed swiftly as these arrangements were\nmade, and ere long the first streaks of daylight appeared in the east.\nAlcyone, faint and weary, was conducted to a chamber for rest and\nrepose; and the Baron aroused his servants and informed them that he\nwas about to be married.\n\nIn the country of Rumpel Stiltzein it was customary to celebrate\nmarriages in the evening; there were therefore still available a good\nmany hours for the requisite preparations.\n\nThe court of the Grand Duke was considerably agitated by the unexpected\nnews. Strange rumours were set afloat regarding the newly-elected\nbride. The Prime Minister's answer to all inquiries was the same. He\nlet it be understood that the Lady Alcyone was an orphan relative\nlately committed to his charge; that she had suddenly arrived from the\ncountry the evening before, when he came to the conclusion that the\nbest way of taking care of her would be to marry her, and having gained\nthe lady's consent, all was well.\n\nIt is true that Bruno had a private interview with his Prince; but as\nit was held with closed doors, the substance of their conversation is\nunknown. The only thing certain is, that the Grand Duke himself\nconsented to give away the bride.\n\nEdlerkopf, Pfenig and Wild Kranz, with their wives and families, and\nall the chief members of the court promised to attend at the ceremony,\nand great were the rejoicings that the solitary philosopher was about\nto enjoy the sweet pleasures of home life. All rejoiced, because they\nbelieved the change would be for the Baron's happiness; but there was\none dissentient mind. The Countess Olga von Dunkelherz, one of the\nladies-in-waiting on the Grand Duchess, was a spinster of a certain\nage, and of undisputed ability; celebrated for her witty tongue and\nsmart sayings. She was not displeased when rumour coupled her name with\nthat of the Prime Minister, and when the courtiers rallied her about\nthe Baron's attentions. The truth was that Bruno had never for a moment\nregarded her in the light of his future Baroness; her manners wanted\nthe repose and softness which to him constituted a woman's chief charm.\nIn spite of her masterly intellect, her conversation often bored him.\nFor in his moments of relaxation he turned to the fair and softer sex\nfor sympathy and recreation, not to involve his wearied brain in\narguments about the last geological discovery, or the newest theory of\nelectricity.\n\nBut as he remained single, and they were constantly together, the\nCountess Olga had insensibly grown to regard him as her own property.\nImagine therefore her astonishment and her displeasure when the Grand\nDuchess, summoning her ladies to her apartment, gave them instructions\nto lay out her state robes, and prepare for a grand court ceremonial,\nas Baron Bruno's wedding was to take place that very evening within the\npalace.\n\nAll was bustle and confusion; but the labours of the court cook were\nsomething superhuman. It required, indeed, the utmost efforts of genius\nand industry combined to produce so splendid a feast at such short\nnotice. It is only due, however, to Francabelli's reputation as first\n_chef_ of the Grand Duchy, if not of the world at large, to record\nthat the execution of his designs was on this occasion carried out with\npeculiar success.\n\nAt last the nuptial hour approached, and excited curiosity was\ngratified by the sight of the bride, as she was led slowly through the\npalace by the Grand Duke. Her wondrous beauty amazed every one, as also\nthe radiant simplicity of her attire. She wore her robes of flowing\nazure, and over her forehead there sparkled a gem of extraordinary\nbrilliancy, which seemed absolutely to blaze with light.\n\nAs Alcyone advanced towards the altar, Baron Bruno, clad in his\nsplendid court uniform, embroidered with gold, and covered with\ndecorations, stepped forth to meet her, and the wedding ceremony was\nsoon completed. The priest dipped his hand in the holy water and\nsprinkled some over bride and groom during his final benediction; as he\ndid so, the Countess Olga, who stood near with her royal mistress,\nrushed forward, exclaiming, \"She is a witch! she is a witch! the holy\nwater has scared her!\" All eyes turned instantly on Alcyone, who\nshuddered visibly, and would have fallen to the ground where she knelt\nhad not her husband's strong arm encircled and held her up. A mortal\npallor overspread her fair countenance, and, strange to relate, the\nglittering gem on her forehead became opaque, and was clouded over with\na dim moisture. By the aid of strong perfumes she gradually revived,\nbut was thoroughly shaken and overcome. Baron Bruno, therefore, craving\nthe indulgence of the Grand Duke, begged permission to retire at once\nwith his bride, and entreated that their absence should not be allowed\nto cast a shadow over the rejoicings at court.\n\nNow Bombastes, the Grand Duke, though of a choleric temperament, was\nstill at heart a man of just and keen perception. He perceived that the\nnewly-made baroness was indisputably overfatigued, and that it was only\nnatural her bridegroom should wish to take every care of her. He\ninstantly, therefore, granted his Prime Minister's request, and calling\nthe other great officers of state around him, invoked their aid to\ncarry on the court revels with due spirit and merriment; at the same\ntime adding, in an undertone, that he trusted his faithful servant had\nnot undone himself by marrying an unknown beauty without parents,\nrelations, or antecedents!\n\nThe three ministers, Edlerkopf, Pfenig, and Wild Kranz, with their\nwives and children, joined heart and soul in the gaieties of the\nevening. The children, with their friends Prince Bertrand and Princess\nBerta, were, as a great treat, allowed to sit up to supper, and had a\nsmall side-table to themselves. Here old Donnerfuss, the head butler,\nkept them well supplied with all they demanded, and they behaved with\ndecorum for a considerable time. At length, wearied with the protracted\ncourses, and finding it impossible to eat any more, the thoughtless\nboys amused themselves by sticking burrs on the footmen's silken calves\nas they passed to and fro. These naughty children had purposely\nprovided themselves with a quantity of these instruments of torture, in\nhopes of finding some use for them during the dull state supper. For\nsome time they pursued their fun unnoticed during the general bustle,\nand quite undisturbed by the muttered maledictions of their victims. At\nlast Bombastes, having an observant eye, became aware of some\ninterruption in the serving of the dinner. Looking round the hall, he\nnoticed on every side agitated footmen carefully examining their lower\nextremities. In a voice of thunder he demanded of the Lord Chamberlain\nan explanation of such unprecedented behaviour. The Lord Chamberlain\ncalled up the High Steward of the Household, who, in his turn, required\nDonnerfuss to explain this breach of discipline. Thereupon the fifty\nred-faced footmen, seeing all eyes turned upon them, at once resumed\ntheir duties, regardless of pricking sensations about the leg and\nunseemly excrescences upon the otherwise fair white proportions of\ntheir well-filled stockings. Donnerfuss, in a frightened whisper,\nrevealed the truth to the High Steward, and he, in his turn, narrated\nthe mischievous exploit of the boys to the Lord High Chamberlain.\nBombastes now impatiently beckoned the latter to his Grand-ducal chair,\nand insisted upon hearing the whole root of the matter. Sanftschriften,\nwho was himself a parent, and naturally kind-hearted, tried to soften\ndown the affair; but as Bombastes listened, his large, round, prominent\neyes seemed as if they would absolutely start from his head at the\nrecital of this outrage on decorum. He sternly commanded the culprits\nto retire to bed; and, glancing wrathfully at Edlerkopf, Pfenig, and\nWild Kranz (who sat quaking in their shoes), he added further: \"As to\nthe well-brought-up sons of these great noblemen, their domestic life\nis beyond the control of their poor sovereign; but for the next month I\ngive orders that no dessert of any kind shall pass the lips of Prince\nBertrand, who has thus misbehaved himself in so shameful and public a\nmanner.\" Princess Berta and the other little girls, distressed at the\ndisgrace of their playmates, rose also at once from the table, and\naccompanied them from the hall. Thus it came to pass that the court\nchildren had no very pleasant associations with the day of Baron\nBruno's wedding. Indeed, you may be very certain that the three\nministers gave their sons the same punishment as Prince Bertrand; and\ntherefore for a whole month the boys had good reason to remember the\nmarriage feast, as their tutors, governesses, and nurses, were strictly\nenjoined to carry out the Grand Duke's peremptory edict. Princess Berta\nand the other small girls, tender and soft-hearted as little maidens\never should be, did their best to alleviate the punishment of their\nplaymates by voluntarily depriving themselves of all sweet things for\nthe same period, which, I am sure you will agree with me, required much\nself-denial, on the part of those dessert-loving damsels, and was no\nsmall proof of affection.\n\nIn the meantime Bruno had taken his bride to a small cottage he owned\non the borders of a wide and gloomy forest. Here they passed the few\ndays which, by the indulgence of his royal master, Bruno was enabled to\nspare from the affairs of state. When they were alone together, his\nwife expressed to him her conviction that some ill-disposed person had\ntampered with the holy water, so as to affect that which was sprinkled\nover them. She had also felt during the ceremony the near presence of\nan anti-pathetic and malign influence. Alcyone furthermore explained to\nher husband that the gem on her forehead was a talisman, which paled\nand grew dim on the approach of danger, or when exposed to poison. The\nBaron at once remembered the dull appearance presented by the jewel\nwhen the holy water fell near it, but he also became unreasonably vexed\nwhen his bride refused to loosen it, even for one moment, from her\nhair, to permit him to examine it in his hand.\n\nHe gradually grew to regard its brilliance with a certain amount of\nsuspicion, and more than once, when the gentle Alcyone laid her head\nupon his shoulder, he felt as if a fiery eye shone guardian over her\nand watched unsleepingly his every movement. When in his vexation Bruno\nallowed himself to speak harshly for the first time to his young wife,\nAlcyone tearfully deprecated his displeasure. She assured him her life\nwas bound up in her talisman, and that if she parted with it, for ever\nso brief a space, she must at once return to the regions whence she\ncame. After this explanation Bruno rarely referred to the disputed\npoint, but it is not too much to say that the lurid ray of the strange\ngem often in their happiest moments sent a sudden thrill to his heart's\ncore, and gave a feeling of insecurity to his most private hours of\nretirement.\n\n    \"It is the little rift within the lute\n    That by and by will make the music mute,\n    And, ever widening, slowly silence all.\n\n    \"The little rift within the lover's lute,\n    Or little pitted speck in garnered fruit,\n    That rotting inwards slowly moulders all.\"\n\nI have already hinted that Bruno was of a sceptical turn of mind.\nPossessed of rare intellectual powers, he had studied metaphysics to\nsuch an extent, and become so thoroughly master of the strange theories\npropounded by the deep-thinking German philosophers of the day, that he\ncould not bend himself to the simplicity of that religion which only\ndemands the faith of a little child; he disbelieved the immortality of\nthe soul, and professed to doubt the existence of a future state.\n\nBut though he and his bride widely differed in faith, yet day by day\nshe became more and more endeared to him, by the lovely nature of her\nmind no less than by the graces of her person. Her exceeding humility\nand true-hearted simplicity showed to him in a new light those\nreligious duties at which in less peaceful days he was wont to cavil.\nWell would it have been for both could their lives have been thus spent\nfar from the busy world, in the calm retreat, where for the first time\nthe gray-haired man recalled soft prayers which a mother's lips (long\nsince silent and cold) had murmured over his infant head.\n\nBut the calls of duty had to be obeyed, and ere long the prime minister\nand his bride returned to Aronsberg, to take their place at court and\nin society, and to have endless fetes and receptions given in their\nhonour. Here Alcyone's gentle unassuming manners, added to her great\nbeauty, made her a universal favourite. The malicious Graefin von\nDunkelherz, however, disseminated strange stories concerning the new\nBaroness, and aroused the suspicions of those who were already perhaps\nsomewhat jealous of the many charms united in the fair person of the\nyoung stranger.\n\nAmid the series of festivities given in honour of the newly-married\ncouple, it was observed that whenever a storm of thunder and lightning\nbroke over the neighbourhood Alcyone was painfully agitated. Wherever\nshe and her husband might be, she implored him to convey her home as\nsoon as possible; the electric influence so entirely overcame her that\nmore than once she seemed completely gone--so utterly did she lose\ncolour and consciousness--so deadly pale did she become. To Bruno's\nimpetuous nature this unfortunate tendency proved a serious annoyance.\nHe considered that by a little firm exercise of moral courage his wife\ncould have retained her senses. Often after conveying her home and\nreappearing alone (by her earnest request) at some state banquet, he\nwould be universally rallied about her captiousness, and even made to\nsee (owing to Olga's kind offices) that his friends considered the\nwhole affair in a somewhat mysterious light. It will be remembered that\nAlcyone stipulated for one night of retirement every month, when,\nundisturbed and alone, she spent long solitary hours upon the roof. She\nentreated Bruno, by all his affection for her, neither to approach the\nplace himself nor to suffer any one else to intrude upon her privacy.\nSomehow or other this circumstance, with numerous additions, became\nbruited abroad, and it was whispered that the Baron's wife was in\nregular communication with demons. Bribed and listening servants heard\nvoices of no earthly _timbre_, speaking in an unknown language. More\nthey were unable to say, for Bruno as yet kept faithful guard over his\nwife's hours of mystic retreat.\n\nAt last, however, the time approached when the sittings of the\nReichstag terminated, and when all who could forsook the dusty purlieus\nof the town for the mountains, the sea, or their country dwellings.\nPeople began to be too busy making their own plans to attend to those\nof their neighbours, and Bruno retired once more with his Baroness to\nTieftraeume Forest. There in their small cottage, with its low long\nveranda covered with creepers, they spent weeks--nay, months--of\nuninterrupted happiness. On one side of their home patches of wild\nmoorland were beautifully interspersed with cultivated oases of garden.\nTowards the east rose the dark masses of the pine forest, giving with\ntheir sombre colouring an ever-fresh beauty to the foreground of lovely\nflowering shrubs. Passing through tangled masses of bramble and fern,\nthe path led by bare gray rocks and tufts of purple heather to some\nivy-covered bower; or you came upon some exquisite smooth-shaven little\nlawn, jewelled in bright patterns of many coloured flowers, and adding\nbrilliance and perfume to the scene.\n\nHere Alcyone and her husband wandered together, or, perhaps descending\nthe steps at the end of their garden, stood on the brink of the little\nriver Naecken, which tumbled and hurried through its narrow rocky\nchannel, thus dividing them from the forest. Lower down the streamlet\nformed a small lake, on which a boat was kept, and where Bruno was wont\nto row his wife, and try to teach her unskilful hand to guide the oar.\nHe laid these lines beside her one morning towards the end of their\ncountry sojourn when, fresh and fair as Aurora herself, she took her\nplace at their morning meal:--\n\n  [Illustration: BARON BRUNO AND ALCYONE.\n   P. 22.]\n\n    \"One moment let me live the time again,\n    The sweet, sweet time when o'er the silvery loch\n    The frail bark sped, or hand-in-hand we climbed\n    Together, where the divided mountain path\n    Stopped like a thing perplexed, or haply stood\n    To watch yon dark blue vault where white clouds sailed\n    Onward and onward through the homeless sky;\n    Or when, returning from a mid-day ride,\n    We turned to gaze where far-off heathery vales\n    Gleamed between shadowy hills, and dark woods rained\n    Transparent sunshine through their golden leaves.\n    And sweet it was to rob the miser night,\n    Of her rich hours, as side by side we sat,\n    Seeking to chain the time that fled too fast,\n    By mazy labyrinths of sweet discourse;\n    These things can never die--there is no death\n    Of happy feelings, gentlest sympathies,\n    And that delicious sadness, whose deep tints\n    Fall like soft shadows o'er the sunny past.\n    Therefore in years to come a calm, clear voice,\n    Like a stray note of some forgotten tune,\n    Shall rise from out these happy autumn days,\n    Waking a melody of gentler thoughts\n    Through all the silent chambers of my heart.\"\n\nThe Baron was often obliged to return to town for a day on important\nbusiness, or to attend his royal master at the Prince's Chateau; but\nAlcyone never wearied when alone with nature; and these little\nseparations lent a new delight to the hour of reunion. Jaded and tired\nfrom his hot journey, Bruno would then seat himself in the veranda and\nrecount to his fondly-listening wife all the little adventures of the\nday, while her cool, soft hand laid on his burning brow, or her gentle\nvoice, carolling forth low songs in the silent twilight, soothed and\nrefreshed his hard-worked brain. It was at times like these, when\nhusband and wife were drawn very near, that Alcyone spoke of her faith,\nand allowed him to see and know the firm unfaltering trust that\npossessed her simple mind. She sometimes referred to the possibility of\ntheir separation--to her hope of ultimate reunion. When, however, she\nhad but half uttered such words, Bruno, enfolding her in his arms, with\na quivering voice would beseech her to be silent, and not break his\nheart.\n\nAutumn disappeared, and next came winter with all its delightful\naccompaniments of snow and sleighing. Merrily tinkled the bells and\nfast flew the steeds under Bruno's skilful guidance, as their\ngaily-decorated sledge was whirled through the broad thoroughfares and\nsnowy parks of Aronsberg. Christmas also passed by, and Santa Klaus\nsent joy to the hearts of myriads of children with his mysterious\ngifts. Months again rolled away, and the glad Easter Feast was in full\ncelebration when, with the first sweet violets, came a dear little\nchild to bless and brighten the home of Alcyone and her husband. They\ncalled her Violet because she bloomed into life at the same time as\nthose fragrant flowers, and Stella was added in remembrance of the\nsacred mystery known only to her parents. In the fulness of his joy,\nBruno dismissed, as he thought for ever, from his mind the cruel\nunworthy thoughts he had once been led to entertain of his bride. It\nwould be difficult to describe this infant to those who never saw her;\nbut let each one think of all the children he has been privileged to\nknow. If among such dear ones he can recall some babe of a beauty too\nrare and fair to attain to maturity in this bleak world, then he may in\nsome faint degree picture to himself the nameless charm that surrounded\nthe little Violet as with a halo.\n\nVarious changes now for a time partially relieved the Baron from\nofficial duties; wrapped up in his domestic happiness, nearly a year\npassed swiftly by before he was once more drawn into the unceasing\nwhirl of political and social court life.\n\nIt was already June, the busiest season in the Aronsberg world. Plunged\nin the necessary rounds of visiting and receiving, the Baroness had but\nlittle time to enjoy, as she wished, the society either of her husband\nor of the little Violet, now at a most engaging age. It is true that it\nwas totally against her own wish that Alcyone took so active a part in\nthe gay world. Bruno, whom nature had formed to shine in society, and\ngifted with marvellous conversational powers, chafed under her\ncontinual excuses, and, returning with eager zest to his old life,\ninsisted upon the Baroness assuming that prominent place in society\nwhich was hers by right as the wife of the Prime Minister.\n\nIt was about this time that the artful Countess Olga began once more to\ndrop poisoned words about the court concerning Alcyone. Ever on the\nalert to open the Baron's eyes to the folly of what she called his\nstrange infatuation, she eagerly hailed the first signs of coolness\nbetween him and his wife. In an unguarded moment Bruno let fall some\nhasty expression regarding her absence from a court ball, and Olga,\nwith honeyed words, sympathizing in his disappointment, hinted that\nrumour credited the Baroness with some private amusement at home, she\nso rarely vouch-safed to favour the court with her presence for more\nthan the briefest possible attendance at the levees of the Grand\nDuchess.\n\nBruno's conscience smote him while he listened to the Countess von\nDunkelherz's ill-natured remarks. He answered somewhat shortly that the\nlittle Violet being an only child and very delicate, absorbed much of\nher mother's attention, and therefore she had the best of excuses for\nremaining at home. A beginning had nevertheless been made, and Olga\ntook good care to keep up her renewed intimacy with the Prime Minister.\n\nIt may have been the vitiated town air which now affected Violet's\nhealth; but she sensibly drooped, and caused her mother the keenest\nanxiety. Her father (prompted by his evil adviser,) although\naffectionate and kind, deemed his wife fanciful when she fretted over\nthe child's altered appearance, and became more and more displeased if\nAlcyone absented herself from society.\n\nThere was to be a grand masked ball in honour of Prince Bertrand and\nPrincess Berta's birthday. They were allowed to choose their own\ndiversion, and they fixed that their father and the Grand Duchess\nshould appear as Oberon and Titania, and that every guest should\npersonate some fairy character. All was excitement, while the Grand\nDuke himself, assisted by the court painter, and somewhat guided by the\npredilections of his children, chose the dress to be worn by each\nvisitor, and had it written on the card of invitation. Berta and her\nbrother settled to represent Prince Hempseed and his sister Olivia.\nOther heroes and heroines too numerous to be recorded were selected.\nSnow-white and Rose-red, the Blue Bird, the Yellow Dwarf, Beauty and\nthe Beast, Cinderella, and many others found suitable representatives,\nbut the Prime Minister and his wife were requested to become, for the\ntime being, Puss in Boots and the White Cat. At one o'clock all masks\nwere to be removed, and a complete transformation-scene enacted, as\nregarded many of the characters, who would at that hour, like the White\nCat and Cinderella, throw off their disguise, and, uncovering their\nfaces, shine forth resplendent in garments the most exquisite that\ncould be devised for the occasion. Then, marshalled in due rank, the\nKing and Queen of Fairyland proposed to lead their motley subjects to\nsupper. The fun grew fast and furious in the little court of Rumpel\nStiltzein. Desperate were the efforts of the tailors, milliners, and\nshoemakers to meet the multifarious demands made on their time, which\nwas very short; and on their invention, which was taxed to the utmost.\n\nAlcyone from the first disliked the idea of the ball, and all the\nrampant merriment connected with it. Her ailing child required constant\ncare, and she herself felt far from strong. She mooted the question of\nremaining at home, but Bruno would not hear of this, and indeed\nanswered her so reproachfully when she proposed it, that she made up\nher mind to sacrifice her own desires, and please him by endeavouring\nto throw herself heartily into the affair. During the many necessary\ndiscussions with the other court ladies as to the all-important subject\nof dress, the Baroness was left alone with Olga, who of late had, to\nall appearance, been her most sympathizing friend. The crafty Countess\nsoon extracted from Alcyone the little history of her own reluctance to\nappear, her husband's consequent displeasure, and her determination to\ngratify him by paying every possible attention to her dress.\n\nThe eventful evening at length arrived. Baron Bruno, after an early\ndinner, was compelled to attend for a short period an important sitting\nof the Reichstag. His house was at some distance from the public\noffices of state; he therefore took his fancy ball-dress with him, and\nsettled to change his attire in his own small official room, while\nAlcyone should start at a later hour, and call for him on her way to\nthe palace. Alcyone felt unusually sad as her husband waved her a hasty\nadieu and speeded off to the Reichstag. He strictly enjoined her to\nobserve due punctuality in her engagements, as the Grand Duke wished to\nenter the ballroom in a grand procession formed of all his chief\nministers and officers of state, court ladies, and hereditary noblemen.\n\nViolet had perceptibly drooped more and more, though her fond father\nrefused to see the change. He only, however, saw his little daughter at\nbrief intervals of his busy life, when a flush of delight at his\napproach rounded her pale cheeks, and her dark-blue eyes sparkled with\nthe keen joy of being tossed or fondled in his arms.\n\nAfter Bruno's departure, Alcyone ascended the nursery stairs, and found\nViolet already in bed, but restless and uneasy, and tossing to and fro.\nThe large windows stood wide open, though very little air seemed as yet\nto stir among the trees of the square in which they lived.\n\nThe mother sat down beside her child. The baby was at once comforted,\nand held out its little arms to be taken to her bosom. Alcyone lifted\nher from the cot, and, dismissing the maids, seated herself by the\nwindow in a low rocking-chair, and crooned soft lullabies to her\ninfant. The babe did not yet sleep, but she lay soothed and quiet,\ngazing into her mother's sweet face, and smiling when she caught the\nbright sparkling of the radiant gem.\n\nSuddenly the peaceful scene was changed; with a troubled cry the little\nViolet started up, and at the same instant Lady Olga stood in the\ndoorway. Hardly apologising for her unexpected appearance in the\nBaroness's private apartments, Olga unfolded her extraordinary plan.\nAfter expressing great sympathy for the child's indisposition, and\nprofessing to understand fully Alcyone's distressing position, she\nasked leave to proceed at once to the Baroness's dressing-room, and\nthere and then array herself in the garments of the \"White Cat.\" As she\nand Alcyone were much the same height and size, this change of dress\ncould be very easily accomplished, and would form an indistinguishable\ndisguise; she then further proposed to set off in the carriage and\npersonate the fair young Baroness at the ball. At first Alcyone would\nnot listen to her artful suggestion, justly fearing the displeasure of\nher husband; but Olga assured her that long before the deception must\nat any rate cease (on the unmasking at one o'clock) she would, using\nthe privilege of an old acquaintance, explain the whole affair to Baron\nBruno, and represent to him aright the mother's fears for her child.\nIndeed those fears seemed but too well founded, for since Olga's\nentrance the baby had grown wild and feverish, and kept up an incessant\nmoaning as if in actual pain. Harassed and perplexed therefore, Alcyone\nat length yielded a reluctant consent, and, ringing the bell, ordered\nlights to be placed in her dressing-room, and attendance to be given to\naid the Countess von Dunkelherz in her somewhat difficult toilet. One\nconsideration which weighed much with Alcyone in her final decision,\nwas the unfortunate coincidence that this happened to be the very night\nof her monthly retirement--that mysterious proceeding of which her\nhusband had now grown so impatient that she was fain never to mention\nit, but strove to accomplish her purpose as best she might without\nattracting his attention. She had all the time hoped to slip away\nunnoticed from the ball, but she well knew this would be a very\ndifficult matter to accomplish, as besides her own timidity about\nleaving the palace by herself, her extreme beauty made her remarkable\nin whatever society she moved.\n\nStill it was with a foreboding of evil she resolved for the first time\nto act without her husband's knowledge, and remain unbidden at home.\n\nIt is scarcely necessary to add that Olga, from frequent inquiries and\na diligent system of espionage, was well aware of the mysterious and\nso-called solitary hours entered upon by the Baroness at stated\nintervals, and she was equally cognisant of the fact that the wonted\nperiod had arrived for the observance of this strange custom, and had\nlaid her plans accordingly.\n\nThe evening wore on; after the noisy departure of the carriage\ncontaining its unusual occupant, all within the house became peaceful\nand silent. Without was heard the ceaseless hum of the busy city, but\nfaint, far, and mellowed by distance. Overhead the stars twinkled\ncheerfully forth from the blue bed on which they had lain fast asleep\nduring the hot reign of the sun.\n\n    It is twilight in the city,\n      And the sun has sunk afar,\n    Where a brightness gilds the pathway\n      Of the quiet evening star.\n\n    Dimly in the hazy distance\n      Twinkle all the myriad eyes\n    Glittering far into the darkness,\n      Where the mighty city lies.\n\n    Twittering through the leafy branches,\n      Birds are calling soft and low,\n    Scarcely heard amid the humming\n      Of the city's ceaseless flow.\n\n    Yet I hear their gentle voices,\n      And their evening hymn of love,\n    While the stars are clearer shining,\n      From the dark-blue heaven above.\n\n    Happy children! careless playing,\n      In and out beneath the trees,\n    With your childish hair all streaming,\n      Floating on the evening breeze.\n\n    Pure and blissful hours of childhood,\n      Never prized until gone by,\n    Stay, oh! stay a while! and o'er me,\n      Let your lingering radiance lie.\n\n    Leave a gleam of that bright sunshine\n      Which was ours in days of yore,\n    Ere we parted for life's battle,\n      Ere we left home's peaceful shore.\n\n    Voices then with ours were mingling,\n      That on earth are silent now,\n    Arms around us fondly twining,\n      That have long been still and low.\n\n    Yes--in gazing on the starlight,\n      Fancy sometimes strives to trace\n    Forms beloved amid the twilight,\n      Or a well-remembered face.\n\n    Angels now! yet be our guardians,\n      In this tearful vale below,\n    Shedding light around our pathway,\n      Giving comfort as we go.\n\n    So when life's frail chord is loos'ning,\n      And our eyes to sorrow close,\n    When the glorious morn is dawning\n      O'er the long sad night of woes,\n\n    Linger near us--that, when rising,\n      We may--child-like--meet again\n    Where the severed are united,\n      Where the weary have no pain.\n\nEver and anon the deep musical bell of the Reichstag clock boomed forth\namid the darkening shadows, telling of time's rapid progress and\nremorseless flight, yet giving to many of the dwellers in Aronsberg a\nfeeling of joyful security and safety. For the tall tower stood over\nand among them like some mighty guardian whose ceaseless care and\nunsleeping vigilance kept watch amid the city by day and by night and\nwith cheerful voice proclaimed his vicinity--thus oftentime becoming a\nloved companion to weary mortals whom sickness, separation, anxiety, or\nsorrow kept awake through the livelong night.\n\n    Chime, Aronsberg bells, chime ceaselessly on,\n    Till partings be over and weary work done.\n    Boom o'er the broad waters, thou musical tone,\n    Remorseless thy knell, and I sorrow alone,\n    For perchance in my bosom shall waken no more,\n    The rapture that thrilled to thy chiming of yore.\n\nThe baby now sank to rest in its tiny cot, a heavenly smile irradiated\nits little countenance, as if in some happy dream it was more than\ncompensated for the uneasy hours of pain and unrest so lately\nexperienced.\n\nThe hour of Alcyone's isolation approached: wrapped in her long flowing\nrobes, with her beautiful hair streaming over her shoulders, she bent\nover the sleeping Violet and dropt a kiss and murmured a blessing over\nher child; then slowly ascended the narrow stair which led to Bruno's\nsolitary chamber. The small door opened, then closed again with a\nspring, and all was still, while the nurses below, whispering together,\nknew their mistress was alone with the stars.\n\nNearly an hour passed by, and tranquillity reigned around; most of the\nservants had gone to bed, those who remained up were in the lower and\nmore distant parts of the house. Hasty sounds suddenly broke upon the\nstill night air; the Baron's champing steeds drew up in the courtyard;\nBruno himself, flushed and agitated, sprang rapidly up-stairs, followed\nby the ruthless Olga! He pushed past his astonished domestics, noisily\ncalling and seeking Alcyone in every room, including the nursery, where\nhe roused and startled his sleeping child. Finally he ascended his own\nnarrow stair, and entered the study. He paused at the small door so\noften described, and tapping, called his wife's name once or twice; no\nresponse came; without a moment's compunction, in excited passion, he\ndrew the key from an inner pocket, and, unlocking the door he had\nsolemnly promised to regard as sacred, threw it violently open.\n\nWith a loud grating noise the ill-fated portal swung back on its\nhinges, and disclosed to his bewildered eyes a wondrous sight. Around\nhis wife stood five or six maidens of surpassing beauty; like her--yet\nunlike--for oh! how clearly he could see the marks of human sorrow and\ncare which cast their shadow over her countenance alone. Each bore on\nher forehead a brilliant jewel resembling Alcyone's; the most delicious\nperfume was wafted on the air, and an indescribable mellow glow of\nlight emanated from and yet illuminated the lovely strangers. More than\nthis he had not time to observe; a terrible explosion shook the house\nto its foundation, and he became enveloped in a choking impenetrable\nvapour. Olga also, who, unobserved, with a bevy of terrified servants,\nhad followed in his footsteps, was half suffocated, seeing, however,\nnothing of those radiant forms.\n\nAs the light breeze dissipated the stifling fumes, Alcyone, with sorrow\nand dismay imprinted on her gentle features, stood inquiringly before\nher husband, as if to demand some explanation of this sudden violation\nof their compact. But now a youth, whom Bruno had never before seen,\nstepped from behind Alcyone, with cold and majestic mien. Bowing\ngravely to the Baron, he thus addressed him, in low thrilling tones:\n\"Behold in me, Hyas, the brother of Alcyone, come hither to aid and\ndefend my sister in the hour of need. I demand a full examination into\nher conduct. Before others you have doubted her and intruded on her\nprivacy--before others her character must be cleared!\"\n\nStunned and bewildered by these swiftly succeeding events, Bruno's\nready tongue for once completely failed him. Now--alas!--when too late,\nhe bitterly regretted his precipitation, and the credence he had too\neasily lent to wicked and baseless insinuations.\n\nInstead of keeping her promise to Alcyone, and explaining aright to the\nBaron his wife's unpremeditated absence, Olga had made out that the\nwhole affair was a preconceived plot which she had been induced to\nconceal till the last moment. She had furthermore hinted that the\ngravest suspicions were aroused by the Baroness's non-appearance, which\nof course became universally known and commented upon at the hour of\nunmasking. At last she had so worked upon Bruno's ardent temperament\nthat, forgetting everything save the jealousy of the moment, he rushed\nwildly home, causing quite a sensation at court and doing irreparable\nmischief to his domestic happiness.\n\nIn spite of his sister's tearful remonstrances, Alcyone's brother now\ndemanded of the Baron when a public inquiry could be instituted; and on\nhearing that it was possible on the morrow, he instantly cited the\naffrighted Graefin von Dunkelherz to appear and proffer her charge\nagainst the fair Alcyone, who for the first time recognised in the\nCountess a deadly enemy.\n\nHyas furthermore insisted on keeping watch over his sister and her\nchild until Alcyone was proved beyond blame in the eyes of the world.\nThey were left alone together. The baffled Olga slunk away to her home.\nBruno, distressed and repentant, unavailingly paced his lonely chamber\nuntil morning arrived.\n\nAt the earliest possible moment (after the late carousals of the night\nbefore) the Prime Minister demanded an audience of his sovereign, and\nthe matter being then fully explained, the Grand Duke commanded that\nthe trial of the Baroness should take place at noon, in the Hochplatz,\na large open space surrounded by public buildings and gardens, and not\nfar from the Grand Ducal Palace. Bombastes, at Hyas' request, also sent\ncriers in every direction to summon the people to attend, and by twelve\no'clock the vast square was filled to overflowing.\n\nThe Grand Duke and Duchess, with the lords and ladies in waiting and\nother state officials, sat upon a raised platform in the centre,\nsurrounded by a guard of honour. Edlerkopf, at the head of a brilliant\nstaff of officers, kept the immense assembly from encroaching on the\ncrimson dais where accused and accuser were placed near at hand. Bruno,\npale and heart-stricken, stood there. At some little distance Hyas and\nhis sister sat together, their striking resemblance and singular beauty\nattracting every eye. It was observed that Hyas bore on his uncovered\nhead a jewel almost surpassing in radiance that which sparkled on his\nsister's brow. Alcyone never raised her head, but bent over her child,\nwhom she carried in her arms.\n\nA profound silence reigned over the excited throng as Hyas bending low\nto the Duke, declared that his sister's honour had been tarnished by\nthe foul aspersions cast upon it, and that he had traced many of these\nreports to the Countess von Dunkelherz; he therefore demanded that she\nshould frankly say of what she accused the Baroness Bruno.\n\nOlga, who by this time had entirely recovered from her previous\nconfusion, now advanced. Craning her long neck, and glancing spitefully\nat the drooping form of the suffering Alcyone, she thus answered Hyas'\nsummons:\n\n\"I charge the Lady Alcyone with being a witch. She cannot part, even\nfor one moment, with the gem she bears on her forehead; she keeps\nmysterious assignations with beings from another world; and she has so\nbewitched her husband, the acute and learned Baron Bruno, that he is\nhardly accountable for his actions.\"\n\nAt these cruel words an ominous murmur ran through the crowd, and half\nstifled cries arose.--\"Burn the witch!\" \"Deliver our Baron from her\nspells!\" \"Cut off root and branch--mother and child!\" Such were some of\nthe menaces hoarsely muttered by the surging and fickle multitude. It\nwas with no small difficulty that Edlerkopf, at the head of his guards,\nrestrained the populace from laying violent hands on the Baroness and\nher brother. Hyas, cool and collected, waited until the gathering\ntumult was in some measure quieted; his clear voice then penetrated far\nand wide. \"Ye have heard, O people,\" he exclaimed, \"the voice of the\ntraducer; ye shall now give ear to unwilling testimony in favour of the\naccused.\"\n\nSo saying he divested himself of his long-flowing outer garment, and\nwarning all around to preserve strict silence, he drew a large circle\nround himself and his sister, and also compelled the Countess von\nDunkelherz, much against her will, to remain within the mystic\nboundary. Taking then a small packet from his breast, he scattered some\npowder on the ground and muttered strange words in an unknown tongue.\nThen arose amid the calm sunshine of that lovely summer day the sound\nof rushing whirlwinds and stormy gusts; a dark cloud intervened between\nthe earth and the sun, enveloping all around in sulphureous darkness.\nWhen it cleared away, lo! high within the magic circle towered a\ngigantic pillar of smoke. From the centre of this terrible apparition\ngleamed forth two fiery eyes. A cold chill of horror ran through the\nspectators, though the air was hot and sultry.\n\nHyas now motioned to Bruno that his lips must ask the fateful question.\nThe Baron, compelled to speak, reluctantly addressed himself thus to\nthe hideous shape:--\"Dread Spirit, whether of good or of evil, I adjure\nthee to tell me whether the Lady Alcyone has been true and faithful to\nme, and guiltless of the foul deeds ascribed to her.\"\n\n\"Blind mortal!\" replied the cloudy phantom, \"pure and transparent as\nthe dewdrop hath the heart of Alcyone been unto thee; there breathes\nnot on your dull earth a spirit more free from guile.\"\n\nAs these words fell from above, a low muttered growl of thunder was\nheard, while Hyas, turning to the silent, awe-struck beholders, cried\naloud, \"The innocence of my sister is proved by the reluctant words of\nVarishka, the dark genie, who could have claimed her for his own had\nher deeds been evil. But, alas! I fear the dread witness has exhausted\none innocent life in the fierce struggle.\"\n\nAs he spoke thick darkness fell upon them, and when it cleared away the\nmysterious shape had disappeared. The bright sun poured its\nhealth-giving rays again over the panic-stricken multitude, and a cool\nwind blew away the last traces of the awful Varishka. All eyes were\nbent on Hyas, whose beauty seemed absolutely marvellous, as, tenderly\nembracing his sister, he turned swiftly aside into the crowd, and ere\nthey were aware had totally disappeared from view. Loud acclamations in\nfavour of Alcyone rang forth from the changeful thousands on either\nside, as they swayed to and fro preparatory to breaking up altogether.\n\nBruno alone stood irresolute; a thousand conflicting emotions paled his\nusually ruddy cheek; but his wife's sweet voice called to him. He\napproached her; her face was full of anxiety. \"Let us return home at\nonce,\" she whispered; \"I fear for our babe.\"\n\nAnd well she might, for the fragile Violet lay almost lifeless on her\nmother's knee, the laboured breath passing slowly through her cold\nlips. They drove rapidly home. The Baron, full of remorse, would fain\nhave thrown himself at his wife's feet, but her thoughts were turned\nonly to her suffering child, as she at last bore it into the nursery,\nwhere in happier days she had so often lulled it to sleep. For some\ntime Bruno remained beside her, and aided in trying various\nrestoratives. At length, summoned by his official duties, he was forced\nto depart. Several hours elapsed before he could absent himself from\nthe Reichstag.\n\nA strange hush pervaded his home as he once more entered its portals.\nHe gained the nursery door, and, pausing, gently pushed it aside. In\nthe waning light he beheld his wife half kneeling, half lying upon\ntheir little one's cot. Violet's face, illumined by the last rays of\ndaylight, was pale and peaceful. It shone with a solemn light--unlike,\noh! how unlike, his own playful pet! Her dark blue eyes were heavily\nclosed, and her little hands meekly folded on her breast. The mother's\nvoice stole on his ear--\"Fare thee well, my darling! good-bye, my angel\nchild! but only for a brief space I bid thee adieu. Thou art folded now\nin arms that can shelter thee more safely from the passing blast than\nthose of thy poor mother. I shall go to thee, my Violet--but never,\nnever more shalt thou return to me.\" These and many similar words were\npoured forth by the weeping mother as Bruno unobserved stood silently\nlistening. His heart felt ready to burst; it seemed as if some chord\nwithin him gave way at that moment with a throb of pain.\n\nFor a long time unknown to himself Alcyone's soft influence had\ngradually undermined his harsh scepticism. At that moment a ray of\nheavenly light shot as it were from the upward pathway of his dead\nchild into the dark recesses of his soul, and with tender humility he\nknelt by his wife's side and placed his hand on hers. Startled and\namazed, she turned and met her husband's eye: it shone with a new and\nsoftened light; there was no need for him to explain to her what he\nfelt. Over the death-bed of their fairest hope they for the first time\nexperienced the ineffable yet chastened joy of sharing the same\nfaith--of worshipping together the same unseen God.\n\nAt length Alcyone slowly rose from her knees, and casting a long, fond\nlook on the lifeless form of her babe, she led her husband from the\nchamber. Together they ascended the narrow stair; together they opened\nthe small, well-known door, and emerged, hand-in-hand, amid the now\ndarkened twilight, upon the open roof.\n\n\"Bruno,\" murmured she, \"the time for our separation has come; you have\ndeclared your belief in the immortality of the soul; your poor Alcyone,\nin the midst of her imperfections, has brought you one step nearer the\ngates of Paradise. I now return to my celestial home, but shall there\nawait you, my beloved, in the sure and certain hope of a long eternity\ntogether unchequered by the sorrows that have assailed our path in this\nmortal world.\"\n\nThus saying, for the first time, the gentle Alcyone passionately\nstrained her arms around her husband; the pressure relaxed, he tottered\nforward; he was--alone! A long trail of light shone for a moment\nathwart the evening sky; the peaceful Pleiades beamed forth in\nbrightest beauty; he called aloud, but only silence reigned around; in\nuncontrollable emotion the strong man fell fainting to the ground.\n\nHow long he thus remained he never knew; but he woke at last to find\nthe midnight moon shining upon him. He raised himself, confused and\naching; he passed his hand across his brow--Was the past a reality? A\ntear rolled down his time-worn cheek which his keen eye had never shed,\nbut it might be the cold dewdrop of the early morn. Beside him lay the\ncoat and hat he had worn in returning from the Reichstag. It must be\nsome long, strange dream that, coming on him exhausted and weary, had\nharassed his brain through the weird watches of the night.\n\nAs these thoughts coursed through his mind his eye fell on his left\nhand; upon it there sparkled a stone of extraordinary brilliancy, which\nrecalled to him the gem on Alcyone's forehead. He strove to remove the\njewel, but, though easily fitting to his finger, the magic circlet\nrefused to be taken from its place.\n\nThe reality of the past then rushed upon the proud Baron's mind with\nthe resistless force of inward conviction. Humbled and sorrowful, the\ngreat philosopher's wondrous attainments and mighty intellectual\nresources seemed for the moment to become as less than the dust beneath\nhis feet. With the simple faith of a little child, he bent his knee\nalone before his Maker, and cried, in tones of repentant sadness,\n\"Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief.\"\n\n\n\n\nESGAIR: THE BRIDE OF LLYN IDWYL.\n\n\nAmong the mountains of Caernarvonshire none are more gloomy and\nprecipitous than the dark sister Glydirs Fawr and Bach. Towering\nsublimely above the solitary waters of Llyn Idwyl, they rear their\nproud summits well nigh on a level with that of the loftier but less\nrugged Snowdon.\n\nWhere is the wayfarer who can forget a calm autumn sunset seen from\nthose barren heights?\n\nValleys far and near shrouded in dim purpling mists; shadowy gigantic\nforms looming faintly in the deepening twilight; rose-tipped peaks\nfloating amid a halo of glory in the evening sky; silver streamlets\nbreaking here and there in white lines the dusky shades below; while\nafar, in the distance, the broad slumbering ocean bids a glittering\nfarewell to the monarch of the day.\n\nSuch was the panorama spread before the young Llewelyn many years ago,\nwhen in toilsome search after strayed sheep he came suddenly upon the\nhighest part of the mountain. To his wearied eyes, however, nature for\nthe time had no charm. With hurried and anxious footsteps he leapt from\nrock to rock, dreading to find some of his wandering flock with broken\nlimbs. For, as with many other Welsh mountains, the crest of the Glydir\nFawr is entirely composed of huge boulders roughly hurled together;\ndeep treacherous crevices being often entirely concealed from view by\nthe luxuriant growth of ferns, heather, and bilberries, which yield\nmost unsubstantial footing to the unwary.\n\nLlewelyn's father, \"Dafydd ap Gwynant,\" a well-known chieftain, had\nbeen slain in battle, and most of his possessions seized by his foes.\nThe widowed Gwynneth, in terror for the safety of her only child, fled\nwith him to the wild region now known as the pass of Nant Francon.\nThere in solitude she reared her boy to habits of frugal simplicity. As\nyears rolled on the widow prospered and her flocks increased. Yet still\nLlewelyn remained her only herd, and at eventide the steep sides of\nLlyn Ogwyn and Llyn Idwyl re-echoed with his loud carols and joyous\nshouts, as he summoned the cattle and sheep to their nightly fold.\n\nIn these remote times wolves and other wild beasts still lurked among\nthe Welsh hills. Nor did they limit their ravages to the destruction of\nanimals alone, but when rendered desperate by hunger visited human\nhabitations in search of their prey. Witness the touching history of\nGelert the faithful hound, whose tomb is still to be seen in the little\nvalley over which a dog's fidelity has shed undying renown. Hence the\nnecessity for carefully collecting the herds at nightfall within some\nplace of security.\n\nLlewelyn at length discovered his missing lambs on the steep northern\nsides of the Glydir, and herding them hurriedly together, crossed the\nshoulder of the mountain and descended towards Llyn Idwyl by the rugged\npathway which leads past the narrow gorge now known as \"the Devil's\nKitchen.\" It was rapidly growing dark as he reached the plain, and he\nwas hastening homewards, when by the waning light he perceived the\nsurface of that gloomy lake to be strangely agitated. As he gazed, the\nhead of a lovely maiden rose above the ripples, and seemed to his\nexcited imagination to regard him with a tender wistful look. He rushed\nto the water's brink, and was about to cast off his coat and swim to\nthe aid of the fair unknown, when, soft and clear as an evening bell,\nthese words rang through the still air:--\n\n    \"Three times lost, and three times won,\n    Canst thou win me, Dafydd's son?\n    Tender must thou be to me,\n    Tender should I be to thee.\n\n    To my mate in bridal hour\n    I can bring a princely dower;\n    But my wooing must be soon,\n    Ere has waned September's moon.\"\n\nEnraptured by these silvery notes, Llewelyn strained every nerve to\nlisten, and as the nymph falteringly uttered the last words he felt a\nmagic thrill run through his frame. He became possessed with a sudden\ndesire to behold the entire form of the beautiful being whose head\nalone smiled on him across the watery waste; but as he approached\nnearer the sweet face disappeared, the surface of the loch became\nglassy and still. The pale rays of the rising moon illumined only the\nwide level mirror of Llyn Idwyl, and amazed and bewildered the youth\nturned to his home.\n\nAfter folding the sheep he entered the cottage. His mother had prepared\na fragrant supper; but through Llewelyn's veins there ran a secret\nfire, and he turned restlessly from the food he was wont to relish in\nhis calmer hours.\n\nGwynneth was a mother in ten thousand. Though she had wandered far to\nobtain the oakleaves over which she had slowly smoked the pink trout;\nthough her hands had been stung when she robbed the wild bees of their\nhoney for her boy; though when faint and tired from her long ramble she\nhad risen with fresh energy to mix and bake for her son the scones he\nloved; yet when she saw his disquietude and lack of appetite, no\nmurmur, no query crossed her lips. Patiently she herself partook of the\nhumble fare, and strove to cheer her moody child, while her own heart\nached with vague doubts and fears.\n\nHardly, however, had she cleared away the last traces of the\nhalf-consumed meal when Llewelyn extended himself full length on the\ndeerskins at her feet, laid his hot head on her soothing lap, and by\nthe flickering light of the fire (fed at intervals with cones from the\npine forest) related to her his strange adventure.\n\nAs Gwynneth listened to his words the iron entered into her soul. Every\nmother can sympathize with the pang she then experienced. The child she\nhad borne through labour, sorrow, and pain; the infant she alone\nnourished and brought to manly strength; the all upon which every hope,\nevery thought of the future is centred--the widow's only son--the idol\nof her heart--his love is passing from her. She is no longer to him the\nfirst, the dearest. Dreams of a nearer and dearer one are wakening in\nhis young bosom. The mother is now his confidant; but well does she\nknow that ere long the newly-beloved will be his only thought; that\ninto her ear alone will be poured all the aspirations of his life. That\nhenceforth and for evermore the mother must resign her son's heart to\nthe keeping of another. Gwynneth in that hour felt the cold hand of\nfate clutch her past happiness. Her pulse stood still. But she was a\nnoble woman. She knew the law of life was resistless. Come from a race\nof kings, with proud resolve she nerved her wounded spirit, and casting\nall meaner thoughts of self aside, threw herself with ardour into the\ninterests of her son.\n\nWhile Llewelyn described the events of the evening, the mists cleared\nfrom the past and his mother dimly remembered an ancient tradition\nheard in days gone by. The half-forgotten legend ran thus:--A prince of\nroyal Welsh blood fell in love with and wedded a water Nixie. No\nsooner, however, were his espousals accomplished than he, with his\npalace and all his treasures, became enchanted and covered by the\nwaters of Llyn Idwyl, which then, at Venedotia's dread command, rose to\nits present height. The water god, through the marriage-tie of his\nbeautiful child, had gained a subtle power over her human lover, and\ndespite her entreaties worked this cruel spell to secure to her the\nunchanging faith of a mortal. While Gwynneth told this strange story,\nan old prophecy concerning this very prince, which she had often heard\nin her youth, suddenly flashed across her mind. Surprised it should so\nlong have escaped her memory, she thus recited it to her listening son--\n\n    \"When Rhuddlan's child with man shall mate\n    A light shall break on Rhuddlan's fate;\n    When thrice three wedded years pass by\n    Llyn Idwyl's waters shall run dry;\n    But if that wedded peace be riven,\n    By blows at random three times given,\n    Esgair must seek her father's cave,\n    Nor quit again the gloomy wave;\n    No slow revolving years shall wake\n    The spell-bound slumberers of the lake.\"\n\n\"My son,\" exclaimed Gwynneth, \"all is now clear to me. The fair\ndaughter of King Rhuddlan has seen and chosen you to be the deliverer\nof herself and her family, who once owned the greater part of Wales;\nbut who fell under Venedotia's spell so long ago that their existence\nis forgotten by the oldest inhabitant. I am proud that my child should\naid in restoring our ancient line of kings. But Llewelyn,\" murmured\nshe, placing her hand fondly on his brown wavy locks, \"you must pray\nfor strength, and enter on this strange adventure with the aid of\nheavenly courage.\" Long into the night sat that gentle mother holding\ncounsel with her son, and even when they sought their rude couches but\nscant sleep sealed their eyelids.\n\nNext day Llewelyn fulfilled his various duties with feverish\nimpatience, he yearned for the evening hour, and as the moon's rays\nfell over the lone heights of the Glydir he stood once more by Llyn\nIdwyl's brink, and in a low clear voice uttered these words:--\n\n    \"By the Glydir's rugged side,\n    By thy father's captive pride,\n    By the strains of mortal love\n    Stealing o'er thee from above,\n    By thine own enchanted lake,\n    Esgair, fairest! hear and wake!\"\n\nScarcely had he finished, when a long train of light shot across the\nloch, and, glittering with a thousand watery diamonds, Esgair half\narose and stretched forth towards him her lovely arms. A smile of hope\nirradiated her pure countenance, and as Llewelyn knelt awestruck upon\nthe beach, she slowly chanted these lines:--\n\n    \"Through Llewelyn's devotion deliverance draws near;\n    'Twixt sunset and sunrise to-morrow be here,\n    Though strife be around thee yet suffer no fear\n    If Rhuddlan's poor daughter to thee seemeth dear;\n    Forget not that o'er her the sign must be crossed,\n    Or she and her kindred for ever are lost!\"\n\nWith a parting wave of her hand Esgair slowly disappeared, and nought\nwas visible save the reflection of the moon, which, dancing and\nsparkling across the dark agitated bosom of Llyn Idwyl, ended in a\npathway of light at Llewelyn's feet. It was an omen of hope for the\nmorrow, and with joyful steps he returned to his home. Here, however he\nwas somewhat harassed by fears as to the poor accommodation they could\noffer to the bride.\n\n\"Dear mother,\" he urged, \"she is a high-born princess; her hair, neck,\nand arms sparkle with priceless jewels. She may scorn our lowly hut,\nand reproach me for bringing her to so humble a home.\"\n\n\"Nay, my son,\" replied Gwynneth; \"the heart of a true maiden seeketh\never something more precious than gold or riches; the love of a\nfaithful partner is doubtless what Esgair yearns to find. It is,\nmoreover, borne in upon me that the daughter of Rhuddlan will not come\ndowerless to the son of Dafydd. Be she poor, however, or be she rich,\nwe will give her the best we have; and I tell you she will hold it\ndearer than life.\"\n\nHeaven that night shed its own peace over the widow and her son, and\ntheir last evening alone together was long remembered by each as a time\nof holy calm. By day-break next morning they were already astir. Many\npreparations had still to be made. Llewelyn went across the hills to\npetition Saint Tudno to pronounce his bridal benediction. The holy\nfather was now making his yearly pilgrimage through Wales, visiting and\ncheering his feeble scattered flock, who clung fast together and\nrevered with a passionate tenderness their few and faithful teachers.\n\nIt was at an ancient farm upon the slopes of Carnedd Llewelyn that\nLlewelyn and his mother had, only a few days agone, knelt and received\nthe good priest's blessing, and Gwynneth doubted not that he would\nconsent to partake for one night of their rude hospitality, for the\npurpose of uniting her son and the rescued Esgair in the bands of holy\nwedlock.\n\nEre the sun had passed its meridian, Gwynneth's hopes were realized.\nThe venerable father, guided by Llewelyn, safely reached her door, and\nafter partaking with them of their frugal noontide meal retired to rest\na while, and to resume the devotions broken in upon by his unforeseen\nexpedition. It weighed much on his mind that no church was near wherein\nthe espousals might be celebrated, but he was fully conscious of the\ndifficulties of Llewelyn's position. He shrewdly suspected that until\nholy rites had been performed the wild spirits would do their utmost to\nreclaim and recapture the newly-rescued bride. Ere seeking his chamber\ntherefore, the good father carefully sprinkled holy water around the\ndwelling, and fervently besought Heaven's blessing on the approaching\nunion.\n\nSome time before the hour of sunset Llewelyn and his mother started for\nthe banks of Llyn Idwyl. They followed the rocky course of that little\nstream, which still breaks in foam from the eastern side of the loch,\nand babbling and brawling flows past the very stones where Gwynneth's\nlittle cottage once stood. The evening was wild and threatening, and\nthe sky had strangely changed since Saint Tudno alighted at their\ndwelling. Thunder reverberating through the mountains awakened hoarse\nechoes on every side. Wild clouds in fantastic shapes scudded across\nthe lowering heavens, and fitful gleams from the sinking sun threw dark\nshadows across their pathway. Ever and anon drenching showers brushed\nby in short sharp gusts, half blinding them, and causing inexplicable\nterror to the ponies; one of which Gwynneth rode and the other Llewelyn\nled for his bride. More than once, as they pursued their way, Gwynneth\nimagined that white arms and hooded figures waved defiance before her;\nbut surprise and doubt held her mute, or perhaps ere she could speak\nthe rain dashed on her face and she perceived that her fancy had\nconjured menacing forms from the eddying spindrift around. Llewelyn\nalso was haunted by outbursts of mocking laughter, but when, amazed, he\nturned to his mother, the wild turbulence of the little streamlet\ntaught him he had mistaken its noisy vehemence for sounds of demoniacal\nmirth.\n\nAt last they reached Llyn Idwyl's side. The sky once more grew calm and\nclear. The sun had long since disappeared behind the dark mountain, and\nthe stars faintly twinkling overhead had already lit their feeble\nlamps. The lake itself, however, presented a wild scene. Furious gusts\nof wind agitated the surface. Sheets of spray bearing the semblance of\nhideous figures were dashed hither and thither. A rushing noise as of a\nthousand waterfalls drowned every other sound, and Llewelyn in vain\ntried to make his voice audible amid the din of the elements. Again and\nagain he endeavoured to shout Esgair's name, but the mad roaring of the\nwinds and waves was all that could be heard.\n\n\"To your knees, my son, and pray for help,\" whispered Gwynneth in his\near, and in despair Llewelyn sank on the ground and fervently invoked\nthe aid of Heaven. As if in answer to his prayer, at this instant the\nmoon tipped the frowning mountain; her bright rays irradiated the wild\nscene beneath and diminished in some measure the confusion and uproar.\nThen, white and dripping as a storm-tost waterlily, the lovely figure\nof Rhuddlan's daughter slowly emerged from the lake until her feet were\nvisible. She advanced along the moon-lit path, which alone remained\nserene and calm. On either side horrid arms were stretched as if to\ngrasp her shrinking form, and rude blasts of spray burst in torrents\nover her defenceless head.\n\nLlewelyn knelt in silent prayer till she neared the water brink, when,\nspringing to her side, he drew her tenderly on shore, signing at the\nsame time on her brow the holy symbol of the cross; while wild shrieks\nand groans resounded across the lake. He lifted Esgair, trembling and\nexhausted, on the pony, where his strong arm was needed to support her.\nThe moon suddenly disappeared behind a cloud; the rain burst forth with\nredoubled vehemence, while such peals of thunder broke around and above\nthem that the startled ponies could hardly be restrained from dashing\nmadly away. Llewelyn, well-nigh desperate, in vain strove to recognize\nthe homeward path. Black darkness encompassed them and hid every\nwell-known landmark from view.\n\nJust as he was at his wits' end, suddenly gleamed afar a small bright\ncross, shedding divine lustre through the gloom. At the same instant\nthere fell on their ears the faint chime of distant bells--a strange\nunaccustomed sound in those wild regions. They paused not, however, to\nquestion the cause of the welcome phenomena; but with gladness turned\nin the direction of the cross, which moved before them as they\nadvanced; Llewelyn still supporting Esgair, and murmuring words of\nencouragement into her ear. More than once he received rough buffets\nfrom invisible foes, and wicked threats were whispered by the hoarse\nblasts; but he kept his eyes fixed steadfastly on the sacred symbol\nwhich guided them in the path of safety, and ere long the unnatural\ntempest spent itself. The fiery cross grew dim, and finally\ndisappeared, and the rest of their homeward route was accomplished by\nthe returning light of the moon.\n\nNearer and nearer rang the joyful bells, as if crashing forth a paean of\nwelcome to the belated wanderers; and what was their astonishment on\ncoming within sight of the place where their humble dwelling lately\nstood amid unbroken solitudes, to observe innumerable twinkling lights\nborne to and fro, while, by the light of the moon, the tall battlements\nof some huge building rose over the site once covered by their happy\nlittle home.\n\nConfused and perplexed, Gwynneth thought to chide her son for bringing\nthem the wrong way. But now Esgair, with new life, sprang to the\nground, and, turning towards Gwynneth, said with exceeding grace,\n\n\"This was my father's home. He bestows it willingly upon us--it is\nyours. But, oh! take me to your heart, and give me a mother's love.\"\n\nGwynneth hastened to alight, and clasping her new daughter to her\nbosom, hesitated no longer to enter the massive portals thrown wide\nopen before them. As they stepped beneath the archway, solemn strains\nof music became audible. A long line of priests and choristers moved\nacross the lofty hall within; bands of fair maidens robed in white\napproached Esgair, and tenderly saluting her placed her in their midst.\nLast of all the holy Father Tudno drew near and motioned Gwynneth and\nLlewelyn to his side.\n\nDeeply agitated by a thousand conflicting emotions, Gwynneth, Esgair,\nand Llewelyn now beheld before them as they advanced a small chapel\nbrilliantly lighted for high festival. With slow and reverend step\nSaint Tudno withdrew within the altar space, and united in holy wedlock\nthe strangely-mated pair before him. Long and lowly did they bend\nbefore the sacred shrine, and when at length they retired down the\naisles, the clear high voices of the singers rang out in joyful\nstrains, while far overhead the jubilant bells told with their iron\ntongues the glad news that the first bar of fate had been undone--the\ncondition fulfilled that ran thus in the old legend:\n\n    \"When Rhuddlan's child with man shall mate\n    A light shall break on Rhuddlan's fate.\"\n\nTime fails me to tell of the splendours of that night of rejoicing, or\nthe magnificent appointments of the castle. But it is impossible to\npass by in silence the exceeding beauty of the bride, or the manly\nserious grace of her bridegroom. Esgair's waving nut-brown tresses fell\nover her shoulders, bound here and there by priceless diamonds. Her\nviolet eyes, her dazzling complexion, her long robe of silver sheen,\ndisplaying every motion of her graceful figure, her wondrous charm of\nmanner,--all enchanted the beholder. She looked and moved the daughter\nof a hundred kings.\n\nLlewelyn's countenance, even in that deep hour of joy, wore the\nchastened expression of one who has struggled and suffered. In the\nmidst of his new-found wealth he was fain to remember, with a feeling\nakin to pain, that this proud castle and all its appurtenances was the\nheritage of his wife and her father. But as Esgair turned her soft eyes\nupon him, the toils of the past and the uncertainty of the future were\nalike forgotten, and love beamed effulgent on his soul.\n\nNight and stillness fell over that great castle. Only alone in an upper\nchamber--the widowed wife--the lonely mother--wrestled in silent prayer\nfor her children until the day broke over the east and opened to the\nworld once more the golden gates of the sun.\n\nOn the morrow all was new and strange to Gwynneth and Llewelyn; but\nEsgair guided them from room to room of the splendid palace, and\nrelated to them endless tales told her by her father, of what had\nhappened within its walls, ere the spell of enchantment consigned him\nand his to the dark waters of oblivion.\n\nTo Gwynneth the long corridors and stately chambers with their quaint\nhangings of tapestry recalled her early home. Llewelyn (who though of\nprincely race, had been reared in poverty) felt a certain restraint\namid all this new-found grandeur, and bore with ill-concealed\nimpatience the ministrations of the countless servants, whose presence\nfettered his free action and oppressed his simple nature.\n\nSoon, however, the varied interests of his new position became\nall-engrossing. Surrounded by retainers skilled in every kind of sport,\npossessed of the fleetest steeds and truest falcons in the country,\nblessed with the tenderest of wives and mothers, he seldom had time to\nrevert even in thought to the fewer and less luxurious pleasures of his\nyouth. He and Esgair became passionately fond of hawking, and many\nhappy days were thus spent, when, splendidly mounted and attended by a\nnumerous train, they would scour the country around and return wearied\nyet joyous at eventide to relate to Gwynneth the adventures of the day.\n\nIt was during one of these hunting excursions that Esgair, roused by\nthe excitement of the chase, urged her palfrey to its utmost speed, and\ndistancing all her companions, came suddenly to a small level plateau\namid the mountains. Here a little streamlet had its birth, gushing\nforth from the rock itself in cold purity. The hawk was already\nstooping over its quarry, and Esgair finding herself alone, called\nrepeatedly to the bird in great fear lest it should fail in its object.\nWhile she was thus employed, Llewelyn came rapidly in sight, and riding\nup to her, playfully struck her on the shoulder with his gauntlet,\ncrying gaily, \"Methought, fair lady, you were running away from us all;\nbut you have deftly won the race to-day, and yours must be the heron's\nplume.\"\n\nThe rest of the merry party now came up, but while with eager\nexcitement they watched the protracted struggles of the two birds,\nLlewelyn turned his own and his wife's palfrey aside, and under\npretence of arranging her dress whispered to Esgair, \"Nay, dearest,\nwherein have I vexed thee? I was only watchful for thy dear sake,\nfearing when out of my sight lest evil should befall thee.\"\n\nTo his great surprise tears dimmed her eyes, and the colour mantled\nhigher in her flushed cheek as she murmured in low tones, \"You have\nstruck the first blow.\"\n\nAmazed and incredulous, it was some time before Llewelyn could recall\nto mind the weird prophecy his mother had repeated to him. As they\nleant sadly over their panting horses by the little spring, a white arm\nemerged from the mossy bank and waved beckoning towards Esgair, while,\nlike a faint sigh of the breeze, fell these chill numbers on their\nears--\n\n    \"One blow hath fallen on Esgair's fate,\n    And grieved Llewelyn's gentle mate.\"\n\nThoroughly startled he rushed forward, but the fancied apparition was\nonly a little shower of spray which, caught by the eddying wind, dashed\nitself over him, wetting his gay clothes and soaking him to the skin.\nWere the words he had heard but the offspring of his own imagination?\n\nNow with loud cries the victory of the falcon was proclaimed, and the\ngallant esquire, riding up to his mistress, courteously presented her\nwith the heron's plume, and craved permission to fasten it in her hat.\nEsgair accepted the gift with her wonted grace, but it was with\nsaddened hearts that she and Llewelyn turned homewards. The dispiriting\ninfluence soon communicated itself to their followers, and in\nmelancholy guise the merry party of the morning silently re-entered the\ncastle walls.\n\nEre they retired to rest, however, Esgair and Llewelyn sought the\nlittle chapel where their marriage vows had been interchanged, and as\nthey knelt together in prayer an ineffable calm soothed their troubled\nspirits, and on seeking their chamber a deep joy cradled them to rest.\n\nTheir life now passed away in uneventful happiness, until, as the time\ndrew near the birth of Christ, Esgair had a son, whose advent was\nhailed with universal rejoicing. Llewelyn with trembling joy welcomed\nhis little child, and drew many hopeful auguries for the future from\nhis first seeing the light in the glorious holy tide of Christmas.\nEsgair suffered considerably in health, causing her husband great\nanxiety, and it was some time before she could resume her wonted place\nin the castle. But she seemed strangely anxious to have her child\nbaptized at the earliest possible moment. They were obliged, however,\nto wait some little time for the holy Father Tudno, who, again\ntravelling that way on his stated rounds, promised by a certain day to\nreceive the babe into the arms of the Church.\n\nMeanwhile the nurses were forbidden to stray without the precincts of\nthe castle, and specially warned against approaching either of the\nlakes which lay within such easy distance--Llyn Ogwyn and Llyn Idwyl.\nIt was rumoured that strange forms were to be sometimes seen wandering\nround the castle. Esgair herself, whose gentle ways had endeared her to\nall around, began to be regarded with suspicion, as, when hardly strong\nenough to leave her chamber, she insisted on taking solitary walks, was\nlong absent, and frequently returned with traces of tears on her cheek.\nAt such times she would redouble her cautions to the nurses, and sit\nfor hours watching uneasily over her babe. They told wild tales,\nmoreover, of seeing their mistress in the dead of night leaning over\nthe little one's cradle and with clasped hands and streaming eyes\nseeming to wrestle in prayer with some invisible power. She would then\nclasp the infant in her arms, sign a cross over its forehead and\nreplace it slumbering and unconscious in its cot.\n\nBut the slow weeks moved on, St. Valentine's day at last arrived, and\nwith it the good Father to perform the promised rite. Every preparation\nmade, and the little chapel adorned with the pale flowers of early\nspring time--the drooping snowdrop, and the Christmas rose, nestling in\nrich green moss from the glen--Gwynneth proudly bore her little\ngrandson to the font, and the holy service began.\n\nThe wind and rain without, hitherto hardly noticed, now dashed with\nsuch force against the casements as to endanger their frail fastenings,\nwhile above the chant of the choristers could be distinctly heard the\nwild howling of the tempest. The little child itself moved restlessly\nfrom side to side, and seemed to feel an adverse influence threatening\nits fate. All eyes, however, were turned on the lady of the castle,\nwho, with mortal terror depicted on her countenance, eagerly scanned\nthe high windows and shuddered visibly as the storm increased. But now\nthe reverend Father took the babe in his arms and ascended the steps of\nthe font. Louder and louder roared the fierce winds without, and as one\nmighty gust shook the chapel to its very foundations, Esgair uttered a\nfaint moan. Llewelyn impatiently turned for the first time towards her,\nand, angrily touching her shoulder to recall her attention to the\nservice, muttered some hasty rebuke about disturbing the people around\nby her ill-timed fears. Father Tudno at this moment formally demanded\nthe child's name, and Llewelyn gave him, as had already been agreed\nupon, the name of \"Rhiwallon.\" As the holy Father, repeating over the\ninfant the tender words of his faith, was about to sign on its brow the\nsacred symbol of the cross, a terrific blast shattered the casements\ninto a thousand pieces, all the lights throughout the chapel were\ninstantly extinguished, while a deluging shower fell on the group round\nthe font. Eldritch laughter rang through the air, a piercing shriek was\nheard, and phantom forms tried to wrench the little babe from the good\npriest's arms. Undismayed and calm however, Saint Tudno gathered the\nhelpless lamb of the fold still closer in his sheltering clasp, and ere\nthe strife of the rough elements well-nigh reached him, the little\nRhiwallon was already a member of the eternal Church. But in Llewelyn's\nawe-struck ear sounded these dread words--\n\n    \"Blare wildly ye breezes a blast of delight,\n    A blow hath been struck by Llewelyn this night.\"\n\nNow with flying footsteps came a page bearing a torch. The wild force\nof the tempest seemed to have spent itself, and comparative peace\nreigned without the castle. Within, the lights were once more kindled,\nbut their rays fell upon a cold inanimate form. Poor Esgair had fallen\nforwards, her head lay on the hard stone floor, her hands were still\nraised as if in supplication to some invisible power, while dark red\nblood slowly oozed forth from beneath her luxuriant tresses. With a cry\nof terror Llewelyn raised her in his arms. He found that in falling she\nhad struck against the stone step of the font, and a somewhat deep\nwound was made under her thick soft hair. He bore her tenderly to her\nchamber. Through the livelong night with keen anguish he and his mother\n(suffering no meaner hand to tend her) ministered to her wants. At\ntimes she cried uneasily for her babe, nor could they soothe or appease\nher until the little Rhiwallon was brought and laid beside his\nsuffering mother in the great state bed, with its dark gorgeous\nhangings and curious antique carving. Llewelyn, heart-sore and\ngrievously conscience-stricken, bent over the half-slumbering pair.\nThey seemed to his excited imagination like the flower and the bud\nrudely torn from the parent stem and fading before his very eyes. He\nlistened anxiously over their lips to assure himself of their actual\nbreathing. Esgair, half-awakened, moved restlessly until feeling her\nbabe again cradled in her arms, she murmured low words of endearment\nover him, and sank once more into troubled slumber. Many days she\nstruggled between life and death; and as Llewelyn kept the weary\nwatches by her side, he mournfully remembered that it was his own\nthoughtless temper which had brought all this upon his faithful wife,\nand recklessly dissolved one more link that bound her life to his. She\nexplained to him that her fears had been roused lest the powerful\nVenedotia should gain possession of their boy ere he was christened,\nand hence the strange precautions she had taken and her extreme terror\nin the chapel. She was unable, moreover, to warn those around her, as\nher first word of elucidation would have sealed the death-warrant of\nher babe; so powerful was the spell still exercised by the fierce\nenchanter over Rhuddlan's ill-fated race.\n\nApril breezes brought sounds of spring into the land ere Esgair, pale\nand wan--like one who has passed through the valley of the dark\nshadow--was once more borne down the castle stair and carried abroad to\nbe invigorated by the reviving vernal air. She had taken a strong\ndislike to the \"Castle of the Lakes,\" as their present home was called.\nNor can this be wondered at, considering the baneful influence that had\nthreatened not only her own but her infant's life. She entreated\nLlewelyn to build another dwelling by the sea-shore, where strength and\nhealth might more rapidly return to her, and where she hoped to be in a\nmeasure free from the fell designs of Venedotia.\n\nWith eager zest her repentant husband followed the bent of Esgair's\nmind, and, after many pleasant excursions to the neighbouring shores in\nsearch of a site, they at length resolved to raise the walls of their\nnew castle in the centre of the rich plain which then lay between the\nproud headlands of Penmaenmaur and Penmaenbach.\n\nEsgair took intense interest in the progress of the builders, who were\nnow set to work with the utmost diligence. Throughout the long summer,\nshe, Gwynneth, Llewelyn, and the babe with his nurses, dwelt in a\nlittle shieling on the steep sides of Penmaenmaur. Daily descending to\nthe broad fertile meadows amid which was to be their future home, they\ncheered and encouraged the labourers at their work. Ere the mellow\nSeptember time came round, the walls of the new castle had already\nrisen to a considerable height.\n\nIt was now two years since the bridal day of Esgair and Llewelyn. Never\nhad mortal man been blessed with a gentler, sweeter help-mate. High and\nlow worshipped their kind mistress; and the most unruly of their\nhalf-savage retainers would fly to anticipate her slightest desire.\n\nThe little Rhiwallon was a lovely babe; healthy and well tended ever\nsince his birth, his firm limbs and rosy cheeks were full of promise.\nHis dark eye already beamed with intelligence, and his broad brow bore\nthe impress of future intellectual power. What long hours that fond\nmother passed alone with her babe! At eventide she ascended the wooden\nsteps of the shieling, and sending the women to make merry with their\nfriends without, hungrily watched over her child. Gwynneth and Llewelyn\nperhaps sitting silent below, heard sounds as of a cushat dove cooing\nover its young. Sometimes the tones became more audible, and words\ncould be distinguished--the mother crooning to her little one as if he\ncould understand.\n\n\"Thou art delivered, my baby, from the evil fate that menaces thy poor\nmother. Thy pure forehead bears on it the sign of the holy cross. Over\nthee the angel of darkness hath now no power save through that mother's\nwill. How could they think, my child, that to save herself a parent\nwould yield up her darling. Nay, nay; when they tempted me to delay thy\nbaptismal hour, they fathomed not the undying love Rhiwallon's mother\nbears her beautiful boy--her treasure!\"\n\nSuch and other dreamy wailing words overheard in the gloaming by\nGwynneth and her son, revealed to them the unselfish part Esgair had\nplayed in the events of the past. Pangs of remorse again oppressed\nLlewelyn as he recalled his harsh rebuke in the chapel. He now surmised\nthat could the Evil Powers only gain possession of Rhiwallon, Rhuddlan\nand his race, including Esgair herself, would be delivered from all\nfuture trouble, and freed for ever from the mystic enchantments of\nVenedotia. But while Gwynneth and Llewelyn trembled at the danger to\nwhich the infant had been exposed, they prized more tenderly than ever\nhis fragile mother, whose conduct had throughout been above praise; and\nkneeling down, they offered sincere prayer that through the exceeding\nfaith and purity of Esgair's life she might, with heavenly aid, prevent\nthe sacrifice of her child, and yet live to accomplish the deliverance\nof her race.\n\nIt was a lovely September afternoon, the sun streamed down on the rich\npurple heather, where Esgair, playing with her boy, sat beside a small\nrivulet close to the walls of the rising castle. The workmen, resting\nfor their afternoon meal, were refreshed with milk provided for them by\nthe kind command of their lady. Gwynneth, busily engaged in some labour\nof love, had remained up at the little shieling, while the solitary\nnurse who accompanied Esgair was seated with her work at some distance\nfrom the mother and her child.\n\nLlewelyn had gone forth at break of day to hunt the deer, and as yet\nthere was no sign of his return. A halo of sylvan peace enshrouded the\nfair scene and the actors therein. Amid autumnal silence the distant\nsea lay smooth as glass. Like a dim blue mist slumbered the far outline\nof the low-lying islands without. On either side rose the frowning\nsentinels of the vale between--the giant Penmaenmaur and the scarcely\nsmaller Penmaenbach; while behind the smiling plain rose heathery\nslopes, undulating in successive lines towards the gloomy Tal-y-van.\n\nStretched on soft furs Esgair played with her beautiful laughter-loving\nbabe. Sometimes she tossed him crowing aloft, and caught him tenderly\nagain to her heart, then, changing from grave to gay, would whisper\nsoftly in his little ear strange old tales and legends. (It was\nafterwards asserted that when Rhiwallon grew to be a man many of his\nwondrous gifts came from his unconscious remembrance of that mother\nlore.) After much time thus spent in dallying with her infant, at\nlength Esgair raised him in her arms and descended with him to the\nbrink of the murmuring streamlet, being thus lost sight of by the\nnurse, who, still within easy hail, did not move from her\nall-engrossing handicraft.\n\nThe peaceful afternoon wore onwards, and soon Llewelyn, hot and\nfatigued, and with a somewhat clouded brow (for the day's sport had\nbeen unsuccessful), came striding down the narrow path, and, accosting\nthe nurse, inquired for her mistress and child. The maid pointed out\nthe course of the rivulet, and Llewelyn springing forward soon cleared\nthe short space between, and gained the little eminence where the furs,\nstill scattered in rich profusion, bore witness to the late presence of\nEsgair and the babe. Looking impatiently around in quest of them, to\nhis horror and surprise Llewelyn perceived his son in the arms of a\nstrange old man with a long hoary beard and white flowing garments. The\nlittle boy seemed pleased and happy; he was cooing to his mother, while\nshe, seated on a rock in the midst of the purling brook, and within a\nstone's-throw of where Llewelyn stood, watched Rhiwallon's every\nmovement with keen delight. Llewelyn paused not to observe the majestic\nstature and noble countenance of the unknown (who was, in fact, the\nancient Rhuddlan, the babe's grandfather), nor remembered till\nafterwards, when it was too late, Esgair's look of entranced happiness.\nSo absorbed was she that she did not hear her husband's exclamation of\nanger, did not see his rapid steps down the hillock, knew and felt\nnothing till he roughly smote her on the shoulder and sharply asked\nwhat she meant by allowing their child (during his absence) to become\nthe plaything of any old vagrant about the place, letting him also run\nthe risk of every passing infection of illness. He would have added\nmore bitter words of reproach, but as he spoke the old man suddenly\ndisappeared. The baby gave a loud cry and fell splashing into the\nwater. His mother at once caught and drew him out, and, with streaming\neyes laid him on Llewelyn's breast, while around, above, below, with a\nsound of many rushing waters, could be distinguished these\nhoarsely-muttered words:--\n\n    \"The final undoing of Fate hath begun,\n    And Esgair's frail portion of happiness done;\n    Arise and return to us, child of the lake,\n    Nor nursling nor husband thy slumbers shall wake.\"\n\nQuick as light Esgair turned a strange look of terror on her husband.\n\"The waters, the cruel waters!\" she cried; \"haste to the hills ere it\nbe too late--hasten, or they will overwhelm you!\" No thought of her own\nfate unnerved the heroic woman. Waving wildly to the workmen, she bade\nthem escape for their lives, and indeed the nurse had already seen from\nabove, and turned to warn them of an impending tempest. Lurid clouds\nveiled the sun, wild winds sighed around, strange shapes arose in the\nbed of the little river, madly leaping to and fro, while, stranger than\nall, and striking consternation to the bravest heart, with low growls\nas of far thunder, arose a huge black wall of water in the distant sea,\nand seemed ever approaching nearer. Sea gulls and cormorants wheeled in\nthe air above, uttering dissonant cries. Affrighted and amazed, the\nterrified workmen left tools, clothes, and implements behind and fled\nin desperate haste towards the mountains.\n\nAt this moment Esgair, turning, perceived that Llewelyn, paralyzed with\nterror and remorse, could move neither hand nor foot to save himself or\nthe child. Endued for the time being with superhuman strength, she\nsnatched the babe from his arms, and crying \"Follow me,\" swept rapidly\nacross the uneven ground, sometimes stumbling and nearly falling, but\nnever stopping to take breath until, on the slopes of Moel Llys, she\nreached the trembling crowd, who from this vantage-ground watched the\nwild work of destruction below. Breathless and exhausted she flung\nherself down on the soft turf and soothed the bitterly crying and\nfrightened infant.\n\nEsgair's hurried flight awoke Llewelyn from the stupor of despair. He\nfollowed and aided her as best he could, and now stood by her side. In\nsilent awe that little assembly beheld the appalling inroad of the\nwaters. Like a dark pall, the slow moving mass spread itself over the\nfertile lands below; ere long it reached the castle; the unfinished\nwalls disappeared, and soon a wide watery waste covered the whilome\nscene of busy labour and the rich fields around. At length the\nremorseless waves dashed unavailingly beneath the rising ground where\nstood the trembling fugitives. Loud thanksgivings for their safety\narose from these simple pious men, and they gratefully acknowledged the\nhand of Providence in their wonderful escape from a watery grave.\n\nBut now low sobs of anguish were heard, a mother--like Rachel of\nold--weeping over her child, and refusing to be comforted. The gentle\nEsgair, wan and weary, lay prostrate upon the ground. Painfully she\ndrew her labouring breath and strained Rhiwallon to her poor aching\nheart. Her eyes were mournfully fixed on Llewelyn, as if to take a last\nfarewell. His grief could find no utterance. With gloomy foreboding he\nrecalled the words of the ancient legend, and a cold thrill ran through\nhim as he remembered that his fatal impatience had not only tempted\nEsgair's fate, but according to the old prophecy had riveted still more\nfirmly the spell that bound her hapless kinsmen; for was it not\nwritten--\n\n    But if that wedded peace be riven,\n    By blows at random three times given,\n    Esgair must seek her father's cave,\n    Nor quit again the gloomy wave,\n    No slow revolving years shall wake\n    The spell-bound slumberers of the lake.\n\nBy this time the tempest had gradually died away. A faint melody of\nunearthly beauty fell on their ears--as they listened wondering and\nentranced, they heard these thrilling words:\n\n    Three times lost, and three times won,\n    Thou hast wedded Dafydd's son:\n    Brow that holy sign hath crossed\n    Ne'er can be by witchcraft lost.\n    By thy faith and suffering power\n    Thou hast won the conquering hour;\n    Though the spell on thee must break,\n    Rhuddlan's race from sleep shall wake;\n    Thou and thine shall dwell in light,\n    Saved by glory infinite.\n    Rise, the evil spell is broken,\n    Peace be thine, and this the token.\n\nAs the voice ceased the sun broke through the clouds, and from his\nwestern declivity threw a long radiance across the calming ocean.\nWithin this glittering pathway stood an angel of exceeding beauty, and\nof grave and majestic countenance. With his left hand he beckoned to\nEsgair. With his right he pointed to the golden rays behind him, within\nwhich myriad shapes of brightest loveliness seemed to move. The light\nfell on Esgair's head as she arose with new strength from the earth.\nAlready a solemn stillness hushed the grief of her pale features and a\nnew expression beamed from her pure face.\n\n\"Heaven guard and guide thee, my babe,\" she said, and placing him\ntenderly in his nurse's arms, turned to Llewellyn imploring him to wish\nher farewell. He approached and wildly cast his arms around her--the\nstrong passions of earth still raged uncontrolled in his unchastened\nbosom--but she slowly disengaged herself from his despairing caress and\nhopefully trod the brief steps that divided her from the heavenly\nvisitant. The angel took her by the hand--once more with overflowing\ntenderness she waved adieu to her husband, and ere the awestruck\nLlewelyn could move from where he stood, the red sun disappeared with a\nsudden dip behind the distant island. With him also, alas! were gone\nthe last faint traces of that pathway of light, wherein had moved, but\na moment before, those bright blessed forms, connecting earth with the\nupper world.\n\nBreaking from his trancelike despair, Llewelyn madly rushed to the\nwater's brink and again and again strove to end his miserable existence\nby flinging himself into the gloomy sea. But his people restrained him,\nand the nurse brought the little Rhiwallon to his side. The unhappy\nfather turned to look on his child, then with renewed agony, as he\nremembered how he had for ever deprived that tender nursling of a\nmother's care, he groaned aloud and smote his hands wildly together.\nBut now, through the quiet evening air--calm and serene--like dew on\nthe parched and weary herb, was borne this soothing message from\ninvisible realms:\n\n    Farewell to the home of my brief mortal years,\n    Farewell to the valley of sunshine and tears.\n    Now over our castle on Arvon's pale shore\n    The waters of Meinai shall surge evermore.\n    Llyn Idwyl! sleep calmly--thou desolate lake.\n    Dark Glydirs! no Esgair your echoes shall wake.\n    But mourn not, Llewelyn, the fate of thy love,\n    She smiles still upon thee from regions above.\n    Arise and walk onward, nor idly repine,\n    A mission that angels might sigh for is thine,\n    To guide and to shelter through life's opening days\n    Rhiwallon, whose future all Cymri shall praise.\n    The Spirit Divine hath inclined to my voice,\n    And parents and kindred around me rejoice.\n    My fate is accomplished--the spell overcome,\n    And Paradise opens to Rhuddlan a home.\n\nThe sudden shadow that had followed sunset now gave way to gorgeous\ncolouring. From the closed western portals of the day emerged rich\nwaving lines of gold and roseate hue, and spread far overhead. Behind\nthe distant islands where the sun had disappeared glowed an atmosphere\nof living amber. For a brief moment the gates of Paradise were indeed\n\"standing ajar\" to receive the now immortal Esgair and her long lost\nkindred.\n\nAwhile the watchers on the shore continued on their knees hoping once\nmore to see that heavenly visitant or hear again the soul-stirring\nvoice that had fallen from unseen lips. At last one by one they arose,\nand gazing seawards by the waning light beheld the broad band of waters\nstill covering the fertile plains, the green meadows, and the\nunfinished castle. Little rippling waves broke at their feet and marked\nthe boundary line, where to this day, the waves surge and swell between\nthe mighty Penmaens upon the Cambrian Coast.\n\nAt this moment Gwynneth arrived breathless in their midst and joined\nher lamentations to those of the little babe, who, missing his mother,\nbewailed her loss in heart-rending tones.\n\nThe workmen now turned to seek a night's lodging where they could, for\ntheir temporary dwellings had shared the fate of the more lordly\ncastle. Llewelyn, still carrying his child, motioned to his mother to\ndraw somewhat aside, and as they slowly remounted the hill, frequently\npausing to cast wistful glances around, and to strain their eyes in\nvain toward the fading west, he related to her the various occurrences\nof that fatal day and repeated the farewell words of his lost wife.\n\"Hear me, mother,\" exclaimed he, as they gained the door of the\nshieling; \"by the remembrance of my Esgair's pure and holy life, I\ndevote myself henceforth to the fulfilment of her behest, and while\nlife and strength remain I promise so to cherish and bring up our child\n(aided by heavenly power) that he shall renew the memory of his sainted\nmother, and become the benefactor of mankind.\"\n\nClasping the babe closer in his arms he turned to enter at the lowly\ndoor, but with a cry of joy the infant stretched out its little arms,\nand lo! soft and pure in the western sky gleamed through the dusk the\ngentle Evening Star. Then Llewelyn knew in his heart that his vow had\nbeen heard, and that an angel spirit shone approval of his humble\nresolution.\n\nWith mournful resignation, aided by his mother and cheered by the\nministrations of the good Father Tudno, Llewelyn passed the remainder\nof his days in the careful up-bringing of his son. They never returned\nto the Castle of the Lakes. For at daybreak on the morning which\nsucceeded Esgair's translation, a messenger arrived footsore and weary\nbringing strange tidings of devastation. As the last stroke of midnight\nclanged from the castle clock the whole mighty fabric disappeared, and\nwith it the numerous servants, the fleet steeds, and the fabulous\nwealth which Esgair's bridal night had brought to Llewelyn.\n\nGwynneth and Llewelyn now fixed their abode on the giant slopes of\nPenmaenmaur, and often at sunset the father was seen pointing up the\ngolden pathway and watching with his little son for the first pale ray\nof the Evening Star.\n\nRhiwallon grew and flourished apace. His was a fearless nature. He\nloved the sea, the hills, the birds, and the flowers. His childish brow\nonly became clouded with pain or sorrow for the sufferings of man and\nbeast, which even in earliest boyhood he ever yearned to alleviate.\n\nWhen still an infant he was often found with a sweet smile upon his\ncountenance, and in after years could recall the dim vision of an angel\nform that bent over and lulled him in his dreams, but was ever absent\nwhen he awoke. Gwynneth and Llewelyn were long spared to foster his\nawakening talents, and ere they were gathered to their fathers the name\nof Rhiwallon had become a household word, for the sweet songs of the\ngentle bard are to this day remembered and sung wherever the Cymri\ntongue is known and loved.[1]\n\n          [1] Founded on an old Welsh legend. There is a submerged\n          half-built castle between Penmaenmaur and Penmaenbach, which\n          can be seen at low tides.\n\n\n\n\nEOTHWALD: THE YOUNG SCULPTOR.\n\n\nIt will not surprise you, dear children, to learn that after Hans\nChristian Andersen wrote his touching story of \"The Little Mermaid,\"\nthe whole world sighed with a strong desire to behold the true likeness\nof that loving and lovely heroine.\n\nPainters and sculptors wandered anxiously by the sea-shore; not alone\nin Denmark, but in many other countries, seeking thus to obtain a\nglimpse of one of the mermaidens--whose whole race has been for ever\nimmortalized by the gentle Dane--longing to depict on canvas, or to\ncarve in marble, the fair lineaments of the faithful sea-child who gave\nher voice and her life for the Prince she loved.\n\nNow for successive ages it has been well known among the denizens of\nthe ocean that trouble and misfortune must certainly fall on the\nmermaiden who should visit the shore too frequently, or permit her\nlikeness to be taken in any form whatsoever.\n\nLong, long ago, the most beautiful of the sea-nymphs rose in her\ngambols to the surface of the billows; and as in those days mermaids\nwore no tails, and were consequently unable to steer themselves\nproperly, she was carried on shore by the force of the waves, where\nsuch was the confusion caused by her charms, that gods and goddesses\nthemselves quarrelled about her, and artists in their enthusiasm\nneglected everything else to depict in all its bewildering beauty the\nsea-born loveliness of \"Aphrodite.\" Great was the indignation excited\nby the appearance of this fair interloper in the aerial courts, and\n\"Hera,\" the Queen of Olympus, persuaded her husband, the awful \"Jove,\"\nto issue a decree ordaining that henceforth and for evermore all\nmermaidens should bear long tails; thus confining their dangerous\ninfluence to their own native element; and furthermore forbidding them,\non pain of severest penalties, to hold communication with the\ninhabitants of earth or sky.\n\nThough centuries have rolled away, this dread command is still\nremembered and obeyed, and hence the extreme difficulty experienced by\nthose whose artistic longings had been kindled afresh by the glowing\ndescriptions of the sweet Danish writer.\n\nOne golden evening during the brief but glorious northern summer, the\nyoung sculptor, Eothwald, after a weary day of unavailing search for\nthe far-famed mermaidens, threw himself down on the soft grass by a\nriver's side, and lulled by the soft ceaseless murmur of the rushing\nwaters, sank into deep dreamless sleep. As the drowsiness of fatigue\nwore itself away, he became gradually conscious of ravishing strains of\nmusic, and rousing himself half awakened to listen to the dulcet\nsounds, he still heard the harmonious cadences of some stringed\ninstrument swell and thrill in tones of unearthly beauty.\n\nEothwald arose softly from his grassy couch, and stole noiselessly\nalong. Keeping himself carefully concealed behind rocks and brushwood,\nhe followed the sound, till at a bend of the stream he beheld the young\nriver god Naecken, seated at the entrance to a grotto, playing and\nsinging to his harp strains of heaven-born music; while, bathed in the\nevening sunshine, and with their arms lovingly intertwined, there on\nthe surface of the water, in rapt attention, floated the lovely\nmermaiden sisters, Duva and Himinglaefa, unsuspicious of danger, and\nforgetful of all else, for the spell of love's magic numbers hung over\nthem and rivetted their attention.\n\nThe inspired Naecken continued his impassioned lay; the blushing\nHiminglaefa, to whom his song of homage was addressed, shook her long\nchestnut tresses until they formed a veil around her, and laid her soft\ncheek on the shoulder of the innocent Duva, who, childlike, wondered at\nher sister's excess of emotion.\n\nA while Eothwald remained motionless, overwhelmed by the beauty of the\nscene, but soon the surpassing loveliness of the sea-sisters fired his\nartistic mind with keen ardour; he felt within himself that could he\nbut reproduce these enchanting forms in marble, he would die content.\nHe resolved to seek his home, and return thence provided with all the\nnecessary materials for working. He had noticed during his wanderings,\nnot far from this very spot, a cave, where he fancied he could work\nundisturbed. The clay by this river being famous for its plastic\nproperties, it would be easy for him to model by day concealed from all\nbeholders, and at eventide to steal forth unobserved, and gain new\nideas of beauty from the fair sisters now before him.\n\nAs he silently pondered and matured this plan, a silvery voice was\nheard afar, and, quick as light, Duva and Himinglaefa sprang away\nthrough the darkening waters at their mother's call, while Naecken,\ncarrying his harp with him, abruptly disappeared within the shadowy\nentrance of the grotto.\n\nDarkness came suddenly on; the river, cold and black, ran past Eothwald\nwith sullen murmurings; the wild owl swept close by where he stood,\nbrushing his face with her wing, and uttering her desolate cry. The\nstartled sculptor well-nigh missed his footing, and only escaped\nfalling into the stream by catching hold of the boughs above his head.\nBut undismayed and undaunted, he groped his way successfully out of the\nwood, and then hastened cheerfully homewards, light-hearted and\ncontent; for what were darkness, danger, or fatigue? The quenchless\nfire of genius burned within his breast; the long dreamt-of ideal was\nno longer a faint, far-off vision, but had become to him a reality of\ndazzling beauty.\n\nEre daylight returned Eothwald had been to his home and informed his\nold housekeeper that he was bound for a few days' trip into the\ncountry. He put together his working tools, and having at her earnest\nrequest taken some provisions in his knapsack, he swallowed a hasty\nmeal, and before the sun was yet high in the heavens, was already\nensconced in the cave and fast asleep in its welcome shade, after all\nthe fatigue and excitement of the last few but eventful hours.\n\nAnd now night after night, sheltered by brushwood, rock, and fern, the\nenthusiastic youth engraved on his heart the exquisite beauty of those\nfair denizens of the sea; nay more, in the ardour of his pursuit he\nbecame himself enamoured of the lovely childlike Duva. Often while\nNaecken and Himinglaefa held sweet converse together, their companion\nunobserved would float silently nearer and nearer to the shore.\nSometimes she amused herself by twining long wreaths of the ferns and\ncreepers which hung over the river bank. Sometimes she laughingly\nlifted small silvery fish from their holes beneath the bank; then\nremembering that air to them was death, she would place them gently\nonce more in their native element, and smiling, watch their playful\nmovements when they frisked around her, as if in gratitude, before they\nswam away. Sometimes flinging her long tresses of hair over the grass\nby the river margin, clasping her hands above her head, reposing half\non land and half on water, she would lie with all a maiden's dreamy\nthoughts of the unknown future, her clear blue eyes fixed on the starry\nvault above, her every action a study of grace and poetry, until\nHiminglaefa's soft summons roused her, when springing again into life\nand motion, the agile Duva excited new admiration in the sculptor's\nmind as with the swiftness of a startled bird she flitted across the\nwater and disappeared with her sweet sister beneath the briny wave.\n\nIt is not given to me to say how Duva and Eothwald first became\nacquainted; but it is certain that before the young sculptor had spent\nmany nights by the water's side, that innocent child of the sea grew to\nknow what it was that made the long hours pass so swiftly to Himinglaefa\nand Naecken, when they were together; for a feeling hitherto unknown\nsprang up within her own simple breast, and taught her to welcome with\nbeating heart the appearance of her new friend.\n\nWhat long happy hours they passed together by starlight and moonlight\non that river brink! How endless were the words they had to say to each\nother in those stolen interviews! and yet, though all seemed so\nuntroubled, a secret care disturbed the peace of either loving bosom.\nIt is true that Duva had attempted to lighten hers by confiding it to\nher lover, for early in their acquaintance she told him that she longed\nto whisper in her mother's ear the story of her Eothwald, and to find\nin the majestic Ran's motherly bosom a soft pillow whereon to still the\nflutterings of her awakened heart; but in tones of displeasure the\nyoung sculptor chid her childlike impulse, and went so far as to\nthreaten that should she ever breathe to her family the fact of his\nexistence, he could never seek her more.\n\nChilled and frightened at hearing Eothwald address her in accents such\nas he had never used before, the gentle Duva tearfully promised to\ncomply with his request, and to conceal from all the knowledge of her\nearthly lover. But the concealment preyed on her mind, and though in\nhis presence she forgot all save the bliss of being beloved, yet she\nhad for ever lost the joyous serenity of her early youth; while the\nvery look which roused her watchful mother's anxiety, gave her in her\nlover's eye, a more etherial air of languor and grace.\n\nEothwald's secret care was widely different: he knew that his Duva\nmight in some terrible unknown manner have to suffer for his love; but\nhis anxiety was lest he should not succeed in obtaining her perfect\nlikeness, and thence partly came his reluctance to allow her to speak\nof him to her people. He made sure they would remind her of the perils\nof holding intercourse with mankind, and probably put a complete stop\nto their clandestine meetings, now only carried on under the shadow of\nthe more legitimate attachment of Himinglaefa and Naecken.\n\nWhile the inexperienced Duva only knew and felt she loved, the more\nworldly Eothwald gazed upon her with a critical and artistic eye, and\noften sent a chill of cold presentiment to her very heart's core, when\nto her gentlest words he vouchsafed no answer; but, absently scanning\nher perfect form, would strive to compare and calculate in his mind the\naccuracy of his progressing model in the cave.\n\nHe found it easy to obtain Duva's compliance with all his requests save\none; but it was for long in vain that he besought her to leave her\nwatery home. Many a time and oft they parted almost in anger, and the\npoor little sea-nymph more than once weepingly entreated him sooner to\nquit her for ever, and go back to his own kith and kind. But Eothwald\nalways returned afresh to the charge, for, besides his real attachment\nto the gentle maid herself, he knew that could he but once behold her\nfair proportions near him in the cave, he could successfully finish his\nnow nearly completed model; and, by imparting to it those life-like\ntouches which alone it required, he would be enabled to give to the\nworld for the first time the perfect image of a mermaiden. With true\nartistic fervour he forgot his mortal love in the eager pursuit of his\nimmortal art, and, brought completely to a standstill by the harassing\nintensity of his longing to have the living form at hand to aid him in\nhis work, he grew so unkind towards Duva that with saddened heart the\npoor child promised to comply with his prayer, and arranged to\naccompany him through the wood the following night, when the yellow\nharvest moon would reign in her fullest beauty.\n\nWords cannot paint the overflowing sorrow that oppressed the pale\nmermaiden's heart that eventful day as she joined her parents and\nsisters, for what an inward voice told her, was the last time. Old\nAgir, her father, gathered her to his bosom, and pressed his little\nDuva to tell her trouble, but with a forced smile she first nestled\ncloser to that protecting shoulder and then sprang half sobbing away,\nand they thought she grieved over the approaching bridals of Naecken and\nHiminglaefa and the prospect of losing her favourite sister.\n\nThe wild young Kolga blew through her shell, and in her efforts to\ncheer Duva made such a bubbling amid the water, that people passing in\nboats far above the sea-king's palace, paused on their oars to watch\nthe agitated surface and thought they had discovered a new ocean\nspring.\n\nHaefring and Blodughadda caressed their little sister and playfully\nasked her to choose whether they should all wear coral or pearls at\nHiminglaefa's wedding, but with trembling lip she turned away, unable to\ntrust her voice in answer to their laughing affection, and for the\nfirst time they deemed their pet Duva was sullen. Ah! how little they\nknew the aching throbs of pain that strangled her sweet voice and\nsilenced their sorrow-stricken playmate.\n\nAt last the hour of sunset drew near. Together, as usual, Himinglaefa\nand Duva rose to the surface of the darkening ocean, and soon were\ngreeted by the entrancing strains of Naecken's harp. Slowly Duva\ndisengaged herself from her sister's embrace and lingered long near the\ncompanion, till now the sharer of every joy or care. But time's\nrelentless wheel rolled on, and through the woods by the river's brink\ngleamed the golden radiance of the harvest moon, as the mermaiden at\nlength approached the shore where her lover kept anxious watch. With\njoyful eagerness Eothwald greeted her, and in low trembling tones\nwhispered loving thanks into her ear; even then Duva would have\nwithdrawn her consent, but the impatient Eothwald, without pausing,\nthrew his strong arms around her, raised his beloved burden from the\nglittering water, and bore her swiftly towards the cave.\n\nA feeling of deadly sickness came over the little sea-maid as she was\nthus lifted from her native element, but the soothing words of her\nlover infused new life into her fainting frame, and in safety they\nreached the cave, where Eothwald joyfully deposited his lovely charge\non the couch he had so long prepared for her use.\n\nUttering but scant welcome the sculptor flew rapidly to his work, for\nalready fatigue and exhaustion clouded the sweet eyes, that were wont\nto sparkle so merrily, and spread a new languor over the limbs of his\nexquisite model. With passionate energy Eothwald moulded his plastic\nclay, completely forgetting in his ardour the unwonted position of the\nsea-king's daughter, and her need of watchful tenderness.\n\nA stranger in a new and untried world--a timid maiden strayed for the\nfirst time far beyond the protecting care of parents and brethren, the\nlittle Duva reclined amazed upon her fragrant bed of leaves. Strange\nthrills were sent through her by the strong night perfumes exhaled on\nevery side from earthly leaf, tree, and flower.\n\nAt last she was upon that land about which from childhood she had\ndreamed, with an eager desire to explore its forbidden mysteries. But\nshe thought not of these things, her whole heart was absorbed in\nEothwald. The young sculptor no longer gazed on her with the melting\neye of love. By the flickering light of the torch which shed its ruddy\nglow over the cave, she could perceive the artist's glance now fixed on\nhis clay figure, now turned upon herself with a searching look of\nrestless dissatisfaction due in reality to the shortcomings of his own\nhandiwork, but which chilled and saddened Duva's sensitive heart.\n\n  [Illustration: EOTHWALD AND DUVA IN THE CAVE.\n   P. 102.]\n\nAgain and again the gentle maiden nerved her voice to speak, but\nfaintness overpowered her, and a dreamless sleep already fanned her\nwith its over-shadowing wings. Eothwald's form swam magnified before\nher eyes, and then vanished altogether amid the mist of gathering\ntears. The cave grew dim--the little sea-child again beheld the palace\nof her father--her lovely sisters waved a mute welcome through the\nchanging atmosphere. With the tremulous sigh of a repentant child that\nhas erred, but returns with glad sorrow to fling itself on its mother's\nbreast, Duva, forgetting all save that joyful vision, stretched forth\nher innocent arms with a low murmur of tenderness, and a gesture of\ndelight.\n\n\"Can you not remain as I placed you?\" impatiently muttered the\nsculptor, as the sudden movement of Duva's arms altered her whole\nposition, and lost irretrievably the graceful attitude he was striving\nfaithfully to immortalise. Even as he spoke, something about his\nbeloved alarmed him; he rushed across the cave, but ere he could touch\nher, Duva's fair form had disappeared--she was gone!\n\nThe red torch flickered high, and suddenly expired. The moon's ray,\ncold and pale, penetrated within the cave, and lo! upon the spot so\nlately pressed by the enchanting figure of the poor little stranger,\npure and transparent in the silvery light, glistened a white pearly\nshell, while a tiny rivulet stole silently from beneath it, and\ntrickled into the moonlit glen without.\n\nEothwald threw himself wildly on his knees, and felt the couch all over\nin vain--in vain!--then in desperation he fled out into the wood and\nsearched for his lost love, breathing her name in fondest accents\nthrough the silence of the night, but alas! awakening no response from\nthe desolate solitudes around him. Wearied and heart-broken he returned\nat length from his fruitless errand, and sank into heavy slumber.\n\nHours had passed unheeded away, when with troubled recollection he\nawoke and sprang to his feet. Gradually he remembered that in his\ndreams Duva had again appeared to him. With bitter tears she\nsorrowfully told him that his own thoughtless actions had parted them.\nHe first tempted her by mortal love to deceive and leave her fond\nparents and her beloved home; then as he moulded his clay from her\nbeautiful form, in the self-abstraction of genius, he half forgot her\nsacrifice, and neglected her tender spirit. Wounded and unable to\nstruggle against her altered condition of life without the comforting\ncare of her mortal lover, she had fallen a victim to the law that ruled\nsupreme over herself and her kindred, and lost her visible shape, which\nbecame again transformed into the water, whence it originally sprang.\nWith streaming eyes she waved a long farewell, then, lovely as a\nmorning dream, faded from his view.\n\nEothwald flew back to his work with fierce energy; he felt indeed a\nhigh soaring ambition. He yearned to represent worthily, to this and\nfuture generations, the fair lineaments, the tender immortal beauty of\nthe sea-king's daughter, who had given him her simple young heart, and\nwhose affection he had so rudely requited. A solemn inward voice told\nhim he had no time to spend in useless remorse, or in unavailing\nlamentation. Death's shadowy finger already beckoned him to the \"silent\nland.\" Grief had snapped the first chord of life's hitherto sweet\nmelody, and his days on earth were numbered.\n\nHe returned in a short space to his native city. His half-finished work\nwas slowly removed to the studio. There by day and by night he laboured\nalmost ceaselessly, and wove into a wild poetical dream the young life\nof the fair Duva and her family, as she herself in days gone by had\nfrequently, half romancing and half in earnest, described it to him.\n\nHe designed a lofty fountain, and upon its six sides placed in groups\nof wondrous imagery her parents, their nine lovely daughters, and the\nyoung river-god Naecken, whose strains had first led him to his beloved.\nAs in his lonely studio he ceaselessly toiled, he wrote down at\nintervals this explanation of his labours--that to all futurity might\nbe known the names and history of those whose divine beauty he thus\nstrove to commemorate.[2]\n\n          [2] The description of the different groups represented on\n          the fountain, is taken from a beautiful work of art, designed\n          and executed by Molin, a young Swedish sculptor of great\n          promise, now dead.\n\n\"Agir, the ocean god, who hates mankind, I represent in the prime of\nlife, with a long flowing beard, which he holds back with one hand, in\nthe other he grasps a sceptre. Enthroned on a gigantic shell, and\nplanting his foot on a dolphin, his handsome features wear an\nexpression of proud disdain.\n\n\"When the winter has passed (as our Northern poets have sung) and the\nMay sun melts the ice, the ships in the harbour lift their anchors\nready to sail, and only the wind is wanting. Thereupon Agir (who\ndelights in punishing the pride of mankind by robbing them of their\ntreasures--taking husbands from their homes, their wives, and their\nchildren, and drowning the mourners in floods of bitter tears) calls to\nhis youngest daughter Kolga to begin the sport.\n\n\"In the next shell-like division of the fountain, I place Kolga, who,\nwith short rough hair and hoydenish action, distends to the full her\nrosy cheeks as she blows through the valves of her shell a soft,\nseductive wind, sufficient to swell the sails, and tempt the ill-fated\nships to sea. Above her, shrouded in her long veil, is the mysterious\nand majestic Ran (Agir's princely consort, and the anxious mother of\nhis many children). She encourages Roenn, her second youngest, who\ngently and dreamingly along the blue ripples stirs the first breath on\nthe calm waters. Haefring, Unn, and Bylgia, with the little water-elves\nand sprites, help to raise the swelling seas until the waves are\nmountains high.\n\n\"Then the hard-hearted and vindictive Boara (once scorned and deserted\nby a mortal lover) crushes the prows to atoms. She delights in the\ndestruction of human handiwork, and is therefore portrayed with a\nsternly beautiful though cruel countenance. Next Agir calls on\nBlodughadda, enveloped in her long flowing tresses, to descend through\nthe deeper waters and secure the ships' rich treasures, for no lock or\nkey any longer protects them.\n\n\"But the fond father misses his favourite children, Himinglaefa and\nDuva; he loudly calls on Ran to tell him where they are. 'Alas,'\nanswers his queen, 'our daughters are held captive in the web of\nNaecken; up there, on the fresh water-stream, they float, like one\ncharmed, listening to his melodious song. I have begged and threatened,\nbut all in vain. Methinks one or both of them is befooled by first\nlove.'\n\n\"Then Agir arose in fearful rage, calling upon his remaining daughters\nto entice Naecken forth from the precincts of his grotto (which, being\nin fresh water, was beyond the sea-king's domain) into the deep ocean,\nthere to take him captive, and deliver their sisters from his thraldom.\n\n\"So they all float on, displaying their charms like roses and lilies\nplaying on the waters: their beautiful dishevelled hair, their graceful\nforms, their coral chains, their strings of pearls, triumphantly making\nsure of enticing the hapless youth into the salt waters. But no sooner\nhave they reached the entrance to the grotto, than behold! a youth,\ndivinely beautiful, is seen. Harp in hand, he sings a soft, melancholy\nstrain with the purest of voices. The beauteous sisters, scarce moving,\ntarry on the heaving waters, and listen, entranced, to his\nheart-thrilling song.\n\n\"Awakening from his own love-dreams as he marks the approach of\nHiminglaefa's lovely sisters, the young river-god sings of his happy\nyouth, when amid green meadows, and under verdant trees, he listened\nto the melodies of birds, and learnt from them the sweet art of\nsong--until, restless and eager for change, he wandered forth from\nhis early home into the wide world, with endless longing for the\nunattainable. To punish his presumption, he was at length condemned\nonly to exist in water, and became the genius of running streams.\nThus he pours out his lament in strains so moving, that even the wild\nswan is arrested in her flight, and the daughters of Agir, deeply\nenthralled, heedless of their parents' call to action, remain\nmotionless before the grotto, allowing ships and mariners to sail by\nin perfect calm.\n\n\"At length, Agir and Ran, angry and impatient, hasten towards them,\nwhen, enchanted like their children, by Naecken's exquisite lay, they\nalso remain to listen, forgetful of the time and of the passing hours,\ntill daylight breaks suddenly upon them. The relentless laws of fate\nforbidding their escape (if found within fresh water at sunrise), they\nall then become spell-bound.\"\n\nSuch was the description Eothwald wrote of his wondrous fountain, on\nwhich Naecken still dreams on, harp in hand, singing of the days of\nyore. The beautiful Himinglaefa leans forward, modestly drawing her\nlong tresses across her white shoulders, drinking in, with downcast\neyes, every intonation of her betrothed. The child-like Duva, adorned\nas when the sculptor first beheld her, with long strands of priceless\npearls intertwined on hair, neck, and bosom, raises herself from the\nwater in the attitude he had studied a thousand times, and half\nsurrounds her beloved sister with her arm, listening intently, as on\nthat well-remembered evening, to Naecken's heart-thrilling music. No\nshadow of future sorrow clouds Duva's fair brow; but moulded in all\nthe fresh innocence of her dewy youth, she remains to this hour the\nloveliest mermaiden that ever gladdened mortal eye.\n\nThe shell she left upon the couch of leaves, the artist introduced\nagain and again in his labour of love, and indeed took from its shape\nthe designs for the six sides of his fountain, the figures on which\nwere the size of life.\n\nAt last the story of Duva's early life was given. Raised from ocean,\ncavern, and grotto by Eothwald's genius, her family were immortalized\nby his art. The sculptor's task was completed. In a paroxysm of agony,\nhe fell on his knees as he realized that though instinct with life his\ninspired work arose in all its chill perfection before him, yet the\nliving, loving, lovely mermaiden would never more greet him with her\nwarm, shy smile, and her low, tender voice.\n\nAt daybreak the old housekeeper came to light the studio fire; for\nit was now winter-time, and the snow lay thick upon the ground. By\nthe first dim ray of light she descried Eothwald kneeling before his\nfinished sculpture. Her heart misgave her; he was her foster-child--dear\nto her as her own. She stumbled forward and touched his arm; it was\ncold and motionless as his own marble figures. Then a loud cry of grief\ntold the tale of death. Eothwald was no more. His immortal spirit had\nfled. Whether in the regions of the unknown invisible world he may once\nmore meet and clasp his Duva to his breast by the blessed waters of\nParadise, we cannot tell, but such may be the merciful will of that\nloving Father who watches unceasingly over the creatures of his hand,\nand feels a divine sympathy in their sorrows.\n\nOne of Eothwald's hands rested on the word Duva, which he had finished\nchiselling beneath his beauteous beloved. In his other hand was found,\nfast clasped--so fast indeed that they could not remove it from his\nstiffened fingers--a gleaming white pearly shell.\n\n\n\n\nFIDO AND FIDUNIA.\n\n\nOnce within a deep and gloomy forest there dwelt a lonely maiden. She\nhad never known any companionship but that of nature, animate and\ninanimate. She loved the birds, the shy playful squirrels, and all the\nvarious animals, which having always known her there, friendly and\nharmless, regarded her in their turn, with trustful affection.\n\nIt made no difference in their feelings towards the young girl that she\nwas not beautiful. Her thick sandy hair hung in coarse straight elf\nlocks on her shoulders. Her skin looked rough, and her features were\nnot prepossessing. But these poor ignorant creatures only noticed that\nher voice was low and exceeding sweet. When she stooped to fondle the\nfrolicsome rabbits, or perchance to bind up the leg of some wounded\nhare, they thought her tender fingers wondrous soft, and her warm cheek\nfelt very smooth to them as she pressed it against their furry coats,\nand pettingly coaxed them to linger a moment on her lap.\n\nStrange to say, though the little maid had no distinct remembrance of\nhuman fellowship, yet she spoke in silvery tones a language which you\nor I, dear children, should very well understand.\n\nShe dwelt in the hollow of an old tree, and few were the wants of her\nsimple life. A clear spring, bubbling up among the rocks near at hand,\nin the centre of an open grassy space, formed a natural bath, where\nevery morning, undisturbed by fear of man, she bathed herself, and\nwrung the water from her dripping tresses.\n\nIn summer time she often slept high up between the forked branches of a\nmighty cedar-pine, where with sticks and long grass she had woven\nherself a sort of nest. From hence also she could contemplate the\nstars, between whom and herself there ever seemed a link of sympathy.\nTo her untaught imagination it appeared that the heavenly luminaries\nwere happy in being among others of their kind. Whereas, had she but\nknown it, each one of those seemingly tiny lights glowed myriads of\nmiles apart from its nearest neighbour.\n\nFidunia dwelt serene, content with her lot; yet it was only natural\nthat in her maturing bosom the yearning instincts of womanhood should\nawake, and that she longed, with an intensity of which she herself was\nhardly aware, for some creature to whom she could recount, and with\nwhom she could share, the pleasures and pains of her solitary life.\n\nIn the forest where she had her home there were no great alternations\nof heat and cold, nor was the length of the days so different as we\nfind it in our own more northerly climate. Still it was spring-time in\nthis land of which I speak. The fair soft tread of summer already sent\na reviving thrill through the woods and glades, and Fidunia's thoughts\nturned anew to her forlorn condition.\n\nShe remarked, as was her wont, the habits of the brute-world around.\nEvery bird had its mate. The sober rooks perambulated the green sward\nin pairs. The thrush wooed his love in songs of gushing melody. The\ntender turtle-doves cooed ceaselessly to each other. The very mole that\nburrowed by the fountain side, brought a sable bride to enjoy with him\nthe hidden comforts of his subterranean dwelling.\n\nFidunia sat and pondered over these things. Again and again she tried,\nlike Narcissus, to see her image in the crystal spring. But kind\nnature, careful to spare the little maid a needless pang, ruffled the\ntranslucent surface so perpetually, that the young girl's face only\ncast a dancing shadow on the bubbling water amid the rocks.\n\nBaffled in her hopes of even a shadowy companion, Fidunia, with a tear\nin her eye, murmured \"Alone, ever alone! Ah, cruel fate! How I sigh for\nsomething really to love me.\"\n\nAwhile she remained motionless, gazing moodily into the troubled\nspring, but anon her quick ear caught the pattering sound of little\nfeet upon the dead beech-leaves that formed a rich carpet near at hand.\nShe thought it was the squirrels, yet theirs was a bounding lighter\ntread. She turned--and, lo! running towards her across the open space,\nshe saw a beautiful dog. In colour he was almost golden; his silky hair\nfell soft as feathery down on either side of his little body. His tail\nand ears of darker chestnut tinge imparted piquancy to his shape. His\npaws were exquisitely clean, and covered with lovely hair. His\nbrilliant dark brown eyes shone with extraordinary intelligence--at\nleast, so Fidunia thought--as the little fellow slowly trotted up and\nstood before her, wagging his bushy tail.\n\n\"Art thou come to be my companion?\" the maiden joyfully cried. In\nanswer to her question, the small quadruped came nearer still, and very\nvery gently laid himself down at her feet. His mute gesture was most\nexpressive.\n\nFidunia surveyed him carefully, she thought she saw the marks of\nsadness in his wistful countenance--he gambolled not around her, nor\nattempted to lick her hand, but fixing on her his large anxious eyes,\nseemed to implore permission to remain by her side. Naturally fearless\nand fond of animals, Fidunia drew him upon her knee, and gently\nstroking the while his silky coat she asked him \"whence he came, where\nhis home, and what his name.\" The little creature could not reply in\nhuman tongue, but he continued to wag his eloquent tail, and to gaze\nearnestly in her face.\n\n\"If you are going to be my companion, I must know what to call you,\"\nsaid the wondering maiden. \"My name is Fidunia,\" added she\ndreamily--but at this last word the dog sprang from her lap to the\nground, and assumed a begging attitude in front of the little damsel.\n\"Nay, nay, my dear doggie, I cannot call you Fidunia,\" cried she, but,\nafter a moment's reflection, \"would not 'Fido' do as well?\"\n\nHardly had this name dropped from her lips than the wise animal bounded\ninto the air, and then ran round and round in a manner most expressive\nof joy. Fidunia delighted, clapped her hands, and as at this well-known\nsignal all her feathered and furred friends came trooping around to\nenquire her will, she at once introduced Fido to their notice, and an\nalliance offensive and defensive was forthwith agreed upon between the\ncommunity at large, and their mistress's new favourite.\n\nEre long Fidunia discovered that her comrade was both active and\nplayful, and though he could not speak her language nor she understand\nhis, and she therefore never discovered his previous history, yet she\nsurmised that he must have been separated from some one he dearly\nloved. For this reason she bore patiently with his occasional fits of\nlow spirits. Soothed and cheered by her gentle companionship and\nthoughtful sympathy, Fido, before very long forgot his sorrows, and\nbecame the gayest of the gay.\n\nEchoes hitherto unknown to Fidunia in the solemn forest, were roused by\nhis shrilly bark of joy, as capering round his young mistress, they\nwandered together far adown those sylvan glades. Fidunia could now\nindeed venture farther from home, as however long they roamed abroad,\nthe dog's wondrous instinct always led them back to the gnarled tree,\nthe crystal fountain, and the green velvety lawn, for so many years the\nlittle maiden's happy abode.\n\nShe soon discovered that Fido was very accomplished in various\nways--and she fancied also that he understood all she said to him--he\nwatched so keenly every word that fell from her lips.\n\nAbout this time strange dreams began to haunt the young girl. Night\nafter night she wandered in regions such as she never remembered to\nhave seen in her waking hours.\n\nAt one time she walked amid beautiful gardens--on either side of her\nbloomed a rich profusion of lovely fragrant flowers. Within each sweet\nfloweret lurked a tiny elf, and as she passed along, fairies swung\nthemselves forth singing through the perfume laden air in soft musical\ntones, \"King Antiphates is blind! King Antiphates is blind! and the\nmaid who alone can deliver him knows not her mission!\"\n\nAt another time she climbed painfully along a steep path, leading\nthrough scenes perfectly unknown to her. The hot sun beat on her bare\nhead, and she toiled on and on, ever ascending, yet never reaching the\ncraggy summit towering far above. Beneath her feet, an unfathomable\nocean surged and swelled, and broke in hoarse grumblings upon the\nfrowning iron-bound shore, sending vast sheets of spray aloft, and\nawakening strange terrors in the woodland maiden's breast. White\nscreaming sea-birds dashed around her, and as they brushed her face\nwith their wings, she heard them cry wildly, \"The great king is blind,\nonly Fidunia can deliver him--but she knows it not! she knows it not!\"\n\nAgain the little maiden found herself upon a lonely terrible mountain.\nShe stood upon dismal rocks whereon appeared no vestige of life. Tossed\nand wreathed in fantastic shapes, the very stones seemed to bear the\nimpress of writhing agony. Though now cold and motionless, they had\npassed through the seething horrors of fire. Scathed and withered,\nrepulsive alike to man, beast and herb, amid their desolate clefts,\nonly the slimy reptile traced his sinuous course; or the bright-eyed\nlizard peered warily forth on the shuddering beholder. Turning to\nescape, if possible, from this dreary place, Fidunia found herself on\nthe very verge of a huge chasm. She felt a burning heat scorch her\nface, and penetrate her feet. Long tongues of horrid flame darted in\nlurid flashes from the thick darkness below. A sulphurous vapour\nenveloped her in its hot and suffocating fumes. She endeavoured to cry\nfor help, but could not utter a sound--an echo like the reverberating\ngrowl of distant thunder filled the air around her with these words,\n\"He will never see now, for the maiden dreams away her life in the\nforest, and knows not that she alone can save him.\"\n\n  [Illustration: FIDO AND FIDUNIA.\n   P. 123.]\n\nFrom this last and most frightful of all her visions, Fidunia woke\nagitated and confused. Why were words of the same import evermore\nrepeated in her slumbers? Whence came these awful voices that sounded\nthrough the gloom of night? Who was the Antiphates whose misfortune was\nknown, as it seemed, to all the world save herself? It was early\nmorning as she sat up and pondered over these things. Her feverish\nheart was refreshed by the dewy silence around. Only through the trees\ncame the faint twitter of half awakened birds. The sky, brightening\ntowards the East, heralded the approach of sunrise.\n\nHer resolve was taken. She would set off that very day and journey\nforth into the unknown world which hitherto she had only visited in\ndreams. She awoke Fido therefore, and explained to him despite his\nmelancholy dissuading looks, that they must leave the fountain, the\nlawn, and the tree, and travel far beyond the forest to seek their\nfortunes among the children of men.\n\nClapping her hands together, she summoned her faithful forest friends,\nwho sorrowfully accompanied their beloved mistress and her companion as\nfar as their strength would permit, then bade them a melancholy\nfarewell.\n\nQuite overcome by losing sight (perchance for ever) of her sylvan home\nand her attached little subjects, Fidunia that night sobbed herself to\nsleep, with Fido in her arms, and half regretted her determination. But\nin her dreams angels hovered over her, and whispered encouragement to\nthe weary sad-hearted maiden.\n\nFor several days more the adventurers journeyed through the dense wood.\nAt night they found shelter in some leaf-strewn cave or upon some mossy\nbank, beneath over-arching trees. Then the innocent pair, under the\nprotection of heaven, slumbered until day's reviving beams once more\ncheered them on their way.\n\nAt length one afternoon they drew near the out-skirts of the vast\nforest within whose mighty depths they had so long sojourned. The\nsetting sun reddened the stems of the tall out-standing firs, and the\nscent of fallen pine leaves hung rich and heavy on the air, as they\nleft the shade of the trees and stepped on to a wide stretching common.\n\nFidunia, bewildered by the apparently illimitable space before her,\nstopped perplexed and half wished to retrace her steps; but Fido\nbounded on, entreating her by unmistakeable signs to follow him.\n\nAfter crossing some old sand-pits, and scrambling across an expanse of\nfurze and heather, they saw before them a small cottage; blue smoke\ncurled cosily above it into the still evening sky; an atmosphere of\npeace seemed to surround the lowly walls. As they approached, however,\na large flock of geese and poultry of all kinds, disturbed by their\nfootsteps, made a terrible cackling, and presently a hale old woman\nopened the door, and came out to see what agitated her flock.\n\nFidunia, accustomed to the ways of birds, had already taken from her\nwallet some of the seeds she was wont to collect for her feathered\nforest friends. The geese, well pleased, quickly gathered round, and\neagerly fed from her hand.\n\nMeanwhile, Fido gambolled up to the cottage dame, and begged before her\nas if to solicit her good-will. Thus, propitiating mistress and fowls,\nthe little maid and her dog were kindly made welcome for the night by\nthe ancient hen-wife.\n\nNext morning, refreshed and thankful, they prepared to resume their\njourney. The good dame now asked Fidunia her history, and whither she\nwas bound; the young girl replied evasively that she only wished to see\nthe world, and was going with her dog to seek their fortunes.\n\n\"Nay, my child, that is not all,\" said the old woman; \"tell me, I pray\nyou, the exact truth.\" So saying, she fixed so keen, yet withal so\nfriendly a glance upon the maiden's blushing countenance, that moved by\na sudden impulse, Fidunia poured forth her whole story.\n\nHer hostess listened carefully to her long account, and then resumed:\n\"You have done well to confide in me; I am more powerful than my mean\nsurroundings would lead you to imagine. I would fain have kept from you\nthe dreams that have broken the peaceful charm of the forest, and set\nyou wandering. I have, however, sisters who are otherwise minded, and\nthey (to work out their own purposes) have sent these visions to harass\nand perplex you. I was anxious to know how much had been revealed, and\ntherefore threw myself in your way to help you. My intentions, however,\nwould have been frustrated had not you, dear maiden, given me\nstraightforward answers.\n\n\"The King Antiphates, of whom you have heard in your dreams, dwells, in\nreality, in the great City of Deva. You will come to it in time if you\ntravel along the high-road, which you can discover beyond that clump of\nfirs,\" continued she, pointing through the open door to a little hill\nat some distance. \"I am unable to render you more assistance at\npresent, but if, after reaching the far-off city, you are ever in great\nstraits, take this crystal from your bosom (where you must always carry\nit, concealed from every eye, or it will lose its virtue); place it in\nthe palm of your hand, fix your eyes steadfastly upon it, repeating,\nmeanwhile, in a low tone, these words:--\n\n    \"Strange gem! upon thy crystal core\n    I gaze, the while I aid implore;\n    Trembling upon the verge of fate,\n    Oh point my path ere yet too late!\n    I fain would gain the boon I ask,\n    Is mine the strength for such a task?\n    Canst thou unloose the links that bind,\n    Or vanquish powerful foes combined?\n    Then, show whate'er there lurks of art\n    Within thine own mysterious heart;\n    On thee I turn a hopeful eye,\n    Bright stone of silence, make reply!\"\n\nSo saying, she drew from her own breast a beautiful sparkling prism,\nabout the size of a pigeon's egg, and gave it, with some solemnity of\nmanner, to her wondering guest. Deeply grateful, Fidunia threw her arms\nround the kind Anna's neck, and warmly thanked her for the precious\ntalisman. With the good woman's aid she then committed to memory the\nneedful lines.\n\nWhen she had successfully mastered them, the old wife drew her hand\nacross her eyes, and resumed, in a somewhat trembling tone, \"I know not\nwherefore you interest me so strangely, my little maid; but if you will\nbe advised by one who has drained the cup of earthly pleasure to its\nvery dregs, return, as yet innocent and inexperienced, with your\nfaithful companion to the quiet joys of your peaceful forest; nor seek,\namid the busy haunts of men, those more exciting scenes where many a\ngrief and anxiety must of necessity be yours.\"\n\nShe paused; how could she cast a blight over the joyousness of that\npoor unsuspecting heart by explaining to Fidunia that maidens, plain in\nfeature, and devoid of dowry, have oftentimes, from no fault of their\nown, but a sorry lot in this hard world compared with that of their\nlovelier or more wealthy sisters?\n\nClothed in her long, grey dress, Fidunia still knelt at Dame Anna's\nknee; the light from the cottage window fell full on her rough sunburnt\nface; her straw-coloured hair contrasted unfavourably with her dark\nreddish skin, and though her eyes were in some measure expressive of\nthe gentle spirit within, yet their faint colour, and the absence of\nvisible eyebrow or eyelash, detracted seriously from their possible\ncharm. Her figure was not ungraceful, but her strangely-fashioned robes\n(which, prettily donned by some fairer being, could have given a\ncertain _bizarre_ attraction of their own) were but ill calculated\nto add comeliness to the young girl's unformed limbs and tanned though\nshapely hands.\n\nAs the compassionate dame hesitated, unwilling to speak too bitterly to\nFidunia of nature's apparent injustice, her young guest laughingly\nreplied, \"Thank you, kind mother; but I could not now remain satisfied\nwithout seeking my fate in the unknown world. I shall never forget your\npromise, however, but seek your aid with this amulet in the hour of\nneed. Yet,\" added she, \"ere I and my dog leave your friendly hearth, we\nwill do our best to afford you some small return for the hospitality\nyou have shown us.\"\n\nFidunia and Fido, who had a thousand times alone together practised\nvarious little tricks, now went through many evolutions before the\ndelighted old woman.\n\nFirst, said the little maid, \"What will you do for your mistress?\" No\nsooner had she asked this question, than the dog fell mute, and\napparently lifeless, at her feet. His stiffened limbs made it plain\nthat he would willingly \"die\" for her dear sake. Bidding him revive,\nFidunia then drew from her pocket one of the chestnuts she kept for the\npurpose. When the little fellow caught sight of this, he \"begged\" for\nit, but his mistress was obdurate. He then \"jumped\" high into the air\nto try and win his plaything; still in vain. Next he \"asked\" for it in\ndoggish fashion, by loudly barking. Fidunia remained relentless. But\nnow a sudden thought seemed to strike the clever animal. Raising\nhimself once more on his hind-legs, he uttered such a tuneful howl--his\napology for \"singing\"--that his mistress, with a pretended sigh, was\nfain to reward him by placing the promised guerdon upon the ground.\nInstead of rushing upon it, however, Fido, in an exceedingly graceful\nattitude, bent his head on one side, and gravely \"considered\" the\ndesired reward. His meditations coinciding with his wishes, at the word\nof command he dashed nimbly forward, seized the round nut, threw it up\nin the air, and caught it again and again; playing, in fact, by himself\na game of ball. Finally, he laid the prize gently down at his comrade's\nfeet to demonstrate that no matter what he won, he would be content to\nsurrender all he possessed to her care.\n\nDame Anna, delighted with the pretty dog's sagacity, caressed and\npraised him, and, after amply provisioning his little mistress for the\njourney, wished them both God-speed on their way. She strictly enjoined\nFidunia to refrain from mentioning this adventure, and advised her also\nto keep her dreams to herself, and only enquire as she went along, for\nthe great city of Deva. Leaning over her low garden-gate, surrounded by\nher long-billed and splay-footed court, the kind henwife long watched\nher late guests as they crossed the bleak common, and reached the small\nclump of trees which she had pointed out to them as a landmark on their\nway to the desired haven.\n\nSoon after passing the summit crowned by these few lonely firs, Fidunia\nstepped on to a broad high-road, which she at once recognized as that\ndescribed by their good friend, and leading to the capital of the\ncountry.\n\nThey now walked on and on for a weary time. The hot sun poured down its\nnoontide rays, the dust arose in parching clouds, and followed with the\nwind their flagging footsteps.\n\nAt last they came to a part of the road bounded by a stone wall. On the\nother side lay a beautiful green park, stretching far away in upland\nslopes of rich pasturage. Fatigued and footsore, Fidunia and her little\ndog clambered over the fence, and composed themselves comfortably to\nrest in the soft grass. Sheltered from the mid-day heat in their seat\namong low brushwood and high overshadowing trees, they gratefully\npartook of the food pressed on them ere their departure by the worthy\ncottage wife.\n\nHalf playing, half teaching her faithful companion, Fidunia held aloft\na little bit of meat in one hand, while with the other she bent down\nthe branch of a neighbouring tree, over which Fido at her gentle\ncommand, bounded nimbly backwards and forwards.\n\nSuddenly, a loud, harsh voice exclaimed, \"What business have you here?\nNo tramps are allowed in my park.\"\n\nLooking timidly round, Fidunia beheld a stout, red-faced,\ngrizzle-haired man, in leathern gaiters, who angrily threatened herself\nand Fido with an uplifted stick. Absolutely terrified by this, her\nfirst experience of man, poor Fidunia felt as if glued to the spot. She\ncould not move hand or foot. A surging tide of red blood rushed over\nher face and neck, and covered the poor child of nature with confusion.\n\nHad she looked beautiful in her distress, perhaps the rough proprietor\nmight have treated her more tenderly. As it was, increasing in\nviolence, he drew nearer still, when Fido, who already bristled with\nrage, flew upon him, and ere he could lay hands upon his trembling\nmistress, fixed his sharp white teeth apparently in the fierce\nstranger's leg; but, luckily for the savage Baron, Fido's jaws only met\nin his legging.\n\nCoward, as well as bully, the rough man changed his tone and implored\nFidunia to call off her dog. Recovered from her first terror, the\nlittle maid beckoned to Fido to follow her, and ere this selfish squire\ncould look calmly about him, she had flown nimbly over the wall,\nfollowed by her dog.\n\nThey both ran a considerable way in their terror, not knowing that the\nfriendly Anna (in reality a good fairy) had thrown so much dust in the\nrude Baron's eyes, that confused and bewildered, he knew not which way\nthe intruders had escaped, but continued to search for them with wicked\nwords and impotent threats long after they had left him and his\ninhospitable domains behind.\n\nMeantime the travellers pursued their way until, worn out and hungry,\nthey came, towards nightfall, into a small hamlet upon the great\nhigh-road.\n\nThe village inn, with its gay painted sign of the \"Golden Boar\"\nflapping to and fro in the evening breeze, stood invitingly open.\nFidunia approached its threshold. The spruce landlady, airing herself\nwith arms akimbo at the open door, stared hard at the little maiden as\nshe paused longingly in front of the steps. \"Can you pay for a night's\nlodging?\" she asked in a matter of fact tone. Alas, no--poor Fidunia\npossessed not one single piece of that hitherto unneeded money--without\nwhich she was soon to find she could gain nothing in the pleasant world\nshe had so longed to explore.\n\nShe sorrowfully passed the cheerful preparations for wayfarers better\nsupplied than herself with all-conquering gold, and heart-sore and\nweary sat herself down on an old stump of wood outside the village\nsmithy.\n\nHere, however, she soon forgot her fatigue for a while in watching the\nred furnace, and the grimy fire-illumined men who moved briskly to and\nfro, striking bright sparks from the glowing metal. They interested her\nstrangely by their easy motions of power, and apparently inexhaustible\nstore of latent strength. She was gradually recalled to herself,\nhowever, by perceiving that she and Fido had become the centre of\nattraction to a gathering crowd. The children accustomed to cluster\nround the entrance of the warm and busy workshop now turned their\nattention to this solitary maiden, and the beautiful dog, which,\nstanding before her, ever on the alert, seemed ready to guard his\nmistress to the death.\n\nThe heated smith, coming for a moment to cool himself at the\nhalf-barred entrance, found an inquisitive group pressing round the\nyoung girl, regardless of Fido's low growls, as with hair on end and\nquivering tail, he prepared to spring on anyone who might touch or\ninsult her.\n\nOf a kindly and generous nature, and ever ready to befriend the\nhelpless, Master Franz stepped up to the stranger and civilly asked her\npleasure.\n\nFidunia, frightened, as well she might be, by the rude remarks of the\ngaping village girls, exclaimed in a tearful voice, \"Oh, sir, I know\nnot where to go for a night's lodging, I and my poor dog, we are\ntravelling to the great city of Deva, but we are tired, and unable to\njourney farther this day.\" Franz, sorely puzzled, looked around in vain\nfor help or counsel. He knew better than the shivering little maid\nbefore him what rustic gossip meant. A stalwart bachelor living all\nalone above his smithy, he himself, however compassionate, could offer\nno shelter to the poor wanderers. A sudden thought struck him. \"Come\nwith me,\" he cried, \"to my good friend Dorothy of the \"Golden Boar;\" I\nwarrant me she will blithely give thee food and lodging for the night.\"\n\n\"Kind, sir,\" answered the poor girl sorrowfully, \"I have no money to\noffer to the good lady of the inn, and she has already bidden me from\nher door; but,\" continued Fidunia timidly, \"I and my dog are able to\nmake some few passes together, which might give amusement to the worthy\nDorothy, and even induce her to grant us leave to rest for the night\nbeneath her roof.\"\n\nThe friendly Franz chuckled with delight as he exclaimed, \"By my\nhalidome, damsel, thy words are well-flavoured. Dame Dorothy shall give\nto thee and thy pretty beast a hearty meal; and then, my mates,\" he\nadded, turning to the assembled villagers, \"we will step up to the\n\"Golden Boar\" when our labours for the day are ended, and see whether\nwe cannot help the maiden and her dog on their voyage.\"\n\nAt these words Fidunia felt greatly comforted, and she and Fido\nfearlessly retraced their steps in the wake of the burly smith.\n\nDame Dorothy had long ere this left her door, and was now engaged in\nthe great kitchen superintending with her own hands the preparation of\na savoury pie, which somehow or other she hoped Master Franz would that\nvery evening help her to consume. Her old husband had been gathered to\nhis fathers many months agone. Since his death the worthy woman often\nfelt the hours after dark pass very slowly. No one knew this\ninteresting fact better than the shrewd yet simple smith, who, early or\nlate, felt sure of a warm welcome whenever he crossed the comfortable\nthreshold of the \"Golden Boar.\"\n\nWhen the landlady heard steps in her passage, a slight cloud of\nannoyance rose to her brow--for what mistress likes to be interrupted\nin her mysterious culinary rites? The incipient frown, however,\nspeedily changed to a smile as Franz's broad figure appeared in the\ndoorway. With a \"welcome, neighbour,\" she hurriedly stooped to shut the\noven door, an exertion which called additional colour into her round\nhealthy cheek.\n\n\"Friend Dorothy,\" said Franz, \"I bring thee this forlorn maiden; for my\nsake thou wilt refresh her and her dog. I must away. I have a coat of\nmail in hand that cannot be left; but anon I will return.\" So saying,\nand without pausing for queries or doubts, the brawny smith\ndisappeared, leaving in his place the weary drooping Fidunia and her\nlittle comrade.\n\nDorothy cast a keen scrutinizing glance on the young girl, eagerly\nscanning her form and features. Reassured by the brief inspection, her\neye travelled back to the polished mirror by the fire which reflected\nher own buxom charms. With some complacency she readjusted the snowy\ncoif (slightly disarranged by her labours), over her brilliant black\nhair, and wiping her hands upon the rough apron assumed for\nkitchen-work, she turned towards Fidunia, and in no unkindly voice bade\nher welcome.\n\nNor did she do this by halves. She exerted herself with real good will.\nBefore long, rested, comforted and composed, the little maid sat by her\nnew friend, and, while she fondled her faithful Fido, she related her\nadventures (always excepting her possession of the talisman and her\ndreams) to the wondering Dorothy.\n\nBut now Franz, true to his promise, returned, bringing with him many of\nthe villagers; for the fame of the stranger and her beautiful companion\nhad spread apace, and a rumour indeed had been set afloat that the\nanimal was gifted with supernatural powers. Refreshed and inspirited,\nFidunia and her dog went joyfully through all the exercises previously\ndescribed. Besides this, she borrowed a kerchief from Dorothy. She then\nput Fido out of the room and closed the door, carefully concealing the\nwhite ensign in the blacksmith's wide hanging pocket. She next called\nher favourite; with eager zest he burst open the half-latched door, and\nran round and round the chamber sniffing in every direction. At last,\nafter a long search, he was successful, and amid loud shouts of\nsurprise and delight drew forth from the depths of Franz's coat the\nblushing Dorothy's badge, the good man the while looking not one whit\nmore composed than his hostess. Fidunia then neatly folded up the\nkerchief; and Fido, bearing it in his mouth, lightly sprang on the\nlandlady's knee and placed it gently in her hand.\n\nThey repeated similar tricks over and over again. Hearty plaudits were\nshowered on the sagacious dog and his youthful mistress, who, flitting\nto and fro in anxious excitement, and finding herself impeded in her\nswift motions by the long folds of her grey robe, drew them in a hasty\nyet picturesque fashion through her waist-belt. Flushed and animated by\nthe friendly approval manifested on all sides, she now stooped forward,\nwreathing her arms into a natural hoop, through which Fido flew\nbackwards and forwards with frolicsome ardour. Nor was this all, for\nthe trim landlady, in answer to an earnest whisper, also rose. Clasping\nhands with the stranger maiden, she soon learnt how to twist and\nretwist beneath her own and Fidunia's arms in a quaint manner that\nFranz and his comrades thought exceedingly bewitching. At the same time\nFido, watching his opportunity, continually sprang between Dorothy and\nhis mistress, thus making a merry third in this pretty exhibition.\n\nAs they at last paused, exhausted and laughing over their own\nexertions, the swart blacksmith stood forth in their midst. In sober\nmanly tones he addressed his neighbours, and gave them an outline of\nFidunia's history, as he had gathered it from herself and from Dorothy.\nHe explained, that she was travelling to the great city of Deva, but\nthat, friendless and forlorn, she was destitute of the money requisite\nto procure for herself and her companion the necessaries of life. He\nadded, that since the little maid and her pretty favourite had given\nthem so much pleasure, he considered that it would only be making her a\nfair return if he and his fellows collected a small sum to help their\nguest on her way.\n\nHis well-timed appeal met with an enthusiastic response. Grey-haired\nold men, tender-hearted mothers carrying their babes, blooming young\nwenches with their awkward rustic swains, all pressed around to deposit\nin Franz's cap their hard-earned yet freely-bestowed mite for the\nastonished maiden. The children whispering their thanks into Fido's\nwilling ear, threw their soft little arms around his neck, and pressed\ntheir chubby faces on his coat of golden silk.\n\nThe bustling landlady meantime bestirred herself and her household, and\nere long set before the company the pie she had already prepared, with\nsundry enticing concomitants. Foaming tankards, moreover, were placed\non the board, wherein the villagers deeply pledged the wanderer and her\ninseparable companion.\n\nOvercome with gratitude, Fidunia could only murmur half-inarticulate\nthanks to her kind friends, as they warmly shook her by the hand. They\npatted Fido also, as she raised him in her arms to conceal her blushing\nface, and wished them both every success on their journey.\n\nNothing is so alluring to a man as the sight of the woman in whom his\nheart is already interested, engaged in works of benevolence and\ncharity. Dorothy's second thoughts regarding Fidunia stood her in good\nstead on that eventful evening. Her softened voice, as she encouraged\nand soothed Fido and his shy mistress, sounded unusually sweet to the\nrough blacksmith's ear. When she smiled good-night to the villagers,\nplacing the while a friendly hand on Fidunia's shoulder, Franz, for the\nfirst time, thought her face actually beautiful. Though no words passed\nbetween them, Dorothy, when she laid her head on her pillow, felt a\nglad thrill of joy as she recalled the warm parting clasp of that hard\nand honest hand.\n\nIn long after years, when Franz and Dorothy reigned together over the\nfar-famed \"Golden Boar,\" surrounded by a blooming family and blessed\nwith peace and plenty, the prosperous wife and mother, in the fulness\nof her joy, often wiped a tear from her eye as she remembered the true\nkindness first shown by her husband to the poor stranger. A kindness\nthat had melted her own harder heart, and (undeservedly for her) led to\nthe happiest days of her life. No wayfarer was ever again turned away\nfrom the open door of the hostelry. Heaven increased fourfold the\nworldly possessions of the honest couple who liberally shared their\nportion with the poor and the needy.\n\nFollowed by the good wishes, and laden with the unexpected gifts\nconferred upon her by her kind benefactors, Fidunia next day set forth\nonce more upon her solitary journey--solitary, at least, so far as\nhuman society was concerned. But this strange girl never considered\nherself lonely while she had her intelligent though canine\nfellow-traveller. Now bounding far before his young mistress, now\nlingering in her rear or trotting quietly along by her side, Fido gave\nher an astonishing sense of companionship and protection.\n\nFor many days they continued to traverse long tracts of beautiful\nundulating country. At night they always found shelter in some humble\nfarm or cottage. Constant and unfailing were the bounties showered\naround the gentle maiden and her fascinating dog, when in gratitude for\nhospitality received they went through their performances together. The\nmoney collected by Franz was like the contents of the widow's cruse. As\nfast as the purse grew empty it was refilled.\n\nFidunia knew not that her ill-favoured countenance protected her from\nmany a rough jest and coarse compliment. But it was so; her modest\ndemeanour and unassuming ways rendered her less effectual service in\npreserving her from insult than her want of beauty. Nor was the young\ngirl as yet conscious that she lacked those personal charms without\nwhich life may sometimes become so bitter to the sensitive heart.\n\nDuring the last days of their journey, the high road gradually led the\ntravellers towards the ocean. Fidunia paused, therefore, one morning,\namazed at the beauty and novelty of the scene before her. The road\nemerging from wooded valleys turned abruptly to the right along the\nsummit of perpendicular cliffs some two or three hundred feet in\nheight. At their base, the blue main, hitherto unknown to the\nforest-bred maiden, broke in tiny ripples on the silver sands. It was a\ntideless expanse of sea, and therefore no unsightly marks of ebbing\nwaters strewed the beach. Only a long bright undulating line showed\nwhere the unstable element found its limits and mother-earth claimed\nher own.\n\nResting on the bosom of the mighty deep, and looming indistinctly\nthrough summer haze, Fidunia saw the azure outline of a fair and\ndistant island. There also, gleaming faint across the broad bay, her\neager longing eyes at last discerned the white environs of the\nfar-famed city of Deva. After revelling for some moments in the glad\nbeautiful prospect, Fidunia hastened her footsteps, well knowing she\nhad still several miles to traverse before she could reach the town, in\nwhich she hoped to sleep that night.\n\nIt was very pleasant to trip gaily along the grass by the roadside,\nwith a lovely view before her, and fresh sea-breezes to fan her brow as\nshe sped swiftly on. But as the day advanced, the heat grew oppressive.\nAgain leaving the sea, the pathway led them by degrees from the midst\nof abundant vegetation into an arid and desolate region. Absorbed in\nhopeful musings, Fidunia did not for some time observe the change of\nscene. At last a sense of oppression made her look around. The\nstillness was frightful. No sounds of tuneful ocean saluted her ear; no\nmelodious birds charmed, as heretofore, the wayfarer with their\nthrilling notes. All was mute and silent as the grave.\n\nFido, with drooping tail and disconsolate bearing, paced soberly beside\nher, casting doubtful glances around. With a sudden shudder Fidunia\nrecognised some of the horrid features last seen in her forest visions.\nHere were the wreathed and fantastic shapes she remembered too well,\nthe wildly tossed, the bare and herbless rocks. There, as she\ndoubtfully raised her eyes to its summit (now visible through the\nopening gorge), was a cloud of black smoke, issuing from the very\nmountain round whose base they were journeying.\n\nAppalled by this vivid resemblance, and seeing before her an apparently\nendless continuance of a similar loathly landscape, Fidunia's trembling\nand really wearied limbs refused to carry her farther. Looking around\nfor a resting-place, she was compelled to seat herself in the road\nitself, for a creeping sensation came over her as she caught sight of\nthe bright-eyed lizards peeping between the rocks near at hand, and\nsurmised that the snakes of her dream could not be far off.\n\nFido came and lay down beside her quite subdued, and she opened their\nlittle store of cold roast chestnuts and other provisions neatly packed\nin her wallet. While she was thus employed, forcing her thoughts from\nthe surrounding desert, by endeavouring to play with her dog over each\nmorsel of their food, they all at once heard the tramp of approaching\nhorses.\n\nFido, though seemingly hungry, dropped his untasted meat on the ground.\nPricking his ears, he listened acutely to the distant sounds, uttering\nthe while a low growl. Nearer and nearer rang the iron hoofs along the\nhard metal causeway. At length, sweeping rapidly past the corner\nFidunia herself had so recently rounded, she beheld a splendid\ncavalcade.\n\nBeckoning to Fido, she sprang alarmed to her feet. Forgetting in her\nhaste the dreaded reptiles, she flew quickly to the rocks above, where,\nhaving gained a vantage ground of comparative safety, she paused to\nmark the unaccustomed pageant below.\n\nBut a few moments before, the sun, shorn of his beams by thick vapours\nbelched forth from the crater above, rode lustreless aloft like a dim\nred ball.\n\nNow, however, bursting through the mirksome canopy, his rays fell with\nrenewed splendour upon the gay accoutrements and glancing arms of a\ntroop of mounted soldiers, whose advance was heralded by all the merry\npomp of prancing steeds and clanging steel.\n\nFido, instead of obeying his mistress, had remained behind her in the\ncentre of the road, and now, regardless of her earnest commands, he\ndashed forward vehemently barking.\n\nStartled by the apparition of a species of animal but little known in\nthese parts (the few dogs in that country being smooth-coated, and very\ndifferent in appearance from the long-haired Fido) the horse nearest at\nhand shied to one side, and crushed against his next neighbour. The two\nriders (hitherto sitting careless and at ease) thus nearly came\ntogether to the ground. Enraged at this misadventure, one of the men\nraised himself in the stirrup, and with his long lance was about to\nmake a thrust at Fido; but Fidunia, foreseeing her favourite's danger,\nrushed down and seized him in her arms ere the wrathful trooper had\ntime to execute his purpose.\n\nThis little by-play could not occur, however, without in some measure\nhindering the onward progress of the whole company; and before Fidunia\nor the irate men could utter one word in explanation or abuse, a loud\nvoice from the rear peremptorily demanded the cause of this abrupt\nhalt. Fidunia was already escaping as fast as she could with her burden\nup the steep hill-side, when another cavalier, of more pleasing\nappearance, rode up and informed her that \"the King\" wished to speak\nwith her. Reassured by his courteous address, she hesitated in her\nflight, and finally remained rooted to the spot in amazement and\ninstinctive expectation.\n\nBy this time the procession was once more moving on at a slower pace\nthan before, and she now perceived in its midst, surrounded by the\nglittering squadron, a stately chariot, drawn by four grey horses,\ncaparisoned in blue and gold. As this carriage drew nearer, Fidunia saw\nseated in it a middle-aged man of singular yet noble bearing.\nImpatience and dissatisfaction were imprinted on his speaking\ncountenance as he turned fretfully from side to side. He seemed unable\nto notice surrounding objects, for his eyes, though wide open, stared\nvacantly into space; while the restless motion of his hands betokened a\nmind ill at ease with itself, if not with all the world around.\n\nWhen this gorgeous equipage reached the spot where Fidunia stood, the\nhorses were drawn up in obedience to the signal of Domenichino, the\nofficial who had previously accosted her. Stepping up to its occupant,\nhe now made some deferential communication. With a quick gesture, the\nKing (for it was he) leant over the side of the carriage, and demanded,\nin surly tones, who and what had dared to impede his royal progress.\nWhile he spoke, his eyes gazed aimlessly around, thus revealing to the\nmost unobservant bystander the painful fact of his physical defect.\n\nInspired with sudden forebodings, agitated by these swiftly following\nevents, and frightened by the strange looks of her interrogator, the\nmaiden knew not what to answer, but stood irresolute, holding her dog\nin her arms. Every eye turned upon her, and the King angrily repeated\nhis question before she found courage to reply, tremblingly,\n\n\"Oh, sire, if indeed thou art the great monarch Antiphates, pardon the\nimprudence of my faithful dog: he comes with me from the depths of our\nforest home, where gallants and horses are alike unknown, and on the\napproach of thy proud train he sprang forth to defend his poor\nmistress, thus discomfiting in some measure thy brave men-at-arms.\"\n\nAt this curious answer, given in all simplicity, the soldiers exchanged\ndoubtful glances, imagining Fidunia to be crazy for thus bearding their\npassionate sovereign. But the King hungrily fastened on her words. He\nthrew himself from his chariot with wonderful rapidity, and, half\ngroping his way, half guided by Domenichino (who hastily dismounted to\nassist his royal master), seized hold of Fidunia's hand, crying, \"Ha!\nfrom the forest, sayest thou, and by thy voice a fair and gentle\nmaiden?\" Ere he could utter another word, however, Fido, already\nwatching his stumbling movements with considerable mistrust, broke into\nsuch angry snarling that Fidunia, freeing her hand, stepped backwards,\nand did not see the gestures of merriment exchanged among the cavaliers\naround, as the unfortunate monarch spoke of her being \"fair.\"\n\nThough Fido's repeated interference was decidedly provoking, yet\nAntiphates preserved unusual command over his short, uneven temper. He\nentreated Fidunia to consider herself his guest; to enter his chariot\nand accompany him to his palace, whither he was now returning after a\nnoonday drive. She demurred at first, because of her dog, fearing that\nhis misbehaviour might be severely visited upon him. As if reading the\ncause of her hesitation, however, and aware of her fatigue, Fido leapt\nfrom her arms, and, hastily flying past the attendants, bounded upon\nthe carriage-seat, wagging his tail, and motioning to his mistress to\nfollow. Aided, therefore, by Domenichino, she soon found herself\nensconced in the carriage, opposite that great potentate, whose\nwell-remembered name had first been made known to her in her dreams.\n\nAs she mused on his peculiar appearance, unable to discover, as he\nturned on her his dark expressive eyes, whether the King was able to\nscan her countenance or no, he bent suddenly towards her, saying,\n\"Maiden, I have more for thine ear than may be heard by others;\nmeantime, I bid thee welcome to my kingdom.\" Ere she could frame a\nreply to this gracious speech, he leant back again and relapsed into\ncomplete silence, apparently absorbed in unquiet meditations.\n\nThe swift onward motion of the chariot was new and strange to Fidunia.\nLeaving the desert region behind them, they descended nearer the\nwater's edge, and sped lightly along the smooth high road.\n\nSmiling vineyards clothed the mountain's side on the one hand; on the\nother, the broad blue sea stretched her \"ample field.\" The jangling of\nthe military trappings gave forth a sound not unpleasing to the ear, as\nthe escort swept merrily on.\n\nWeary with her exertions, and lulled by the monotonous movement of the\ncarriage, Fidunia half slumbered as she leant back on the luxurious\ncushions, her mind filled with youth's vague ecstatic visions of future\nhappiness. But Fido, wary and watchful, folded lovingly in his\nmistress's arms, turned a vigilant eye alternately upon the uneasy King\nand his glittering body-guard.\n\nIt would be impossible adequately to describe the forlorn condition of\nthe monarch, in whose stately equipage destiny had thus strangely\nplaced the forest maiden and her dog. Surrounded by all the pomp and\nwealth of his splendid court, he was yet debarred by his misfortune\nfrom enjoying the visible beauties of nature, or the works of art with\nwhich his palace and kingdom abounded.\n\nUnable to employ his powerful mind in perusing the records of the past,\nor the writings of the poets and philosophers of his own day, incapable\nof discerning the commonest objects in the world around, and conscious\nonly of a difference between light and darkness, night and day, the\ngreat King's melancholy affliction demanded double commiseration in an\nage when comforts for the blind had neither been invented nor studied.\n\nMusic became a source of constant pleasure to him; nor was it\nsurprising that he invariably judged people by their voices as they\nspoke or sung before him, forming in this unusual way a wonderfully\naccurate conception of character.\n\nIt is needless to say that remedies of all sorts had been tried upon\nthe eyes of the hapless monarch. Many physicians had exerted their\nutmost skill in endeavouring to ameliorate his condition. He had\nvisited in turn not only the most celebrated baths and watering-places,\nbut also the various oracles then existing in Europe.\n\nDisheartened and hopeless, he had at last well-nigh succumbed to his\nfate, when a strange incident once more roused the seemingly subdued,\nyet ever dormant passion of hope in his breast.\n\nAntiphon (the foster-brother of the blind King), while wandering on the\nhills surrounding Deva, in his vocation of shepherd, noticed\nsulphureous fumes issuing from a cleft he had never before observed in\nthe mountain's side. Taking with him a torch, he cautiously entered the\nyawning aperture, and groped his way along, until he suddenly found\nhimself in a lofty subterranean cave. In the centre of this cave lay a\nmarble block, fashioned like a huge coffin. Antiphon hastened home to\ntell his neighbours of his discovery and to gain assistance. Returning\nto the cave, he and his fellows succeeded in pushing off the ponderous\nlid, which fell crashing to the ground, and broke into a thousand\npieces.\n\nWithin the sarcophagus was now exposed to view a shrivelled though\nperfect mummy; and an old man of the party recollected having heard an\nancient prophecy which foretold that answers regarding future events\nshould one day issue from \"withered lips, dumb with the silence of\nages, and awful in their semblance to humanity.\"\n\nAntiphon at once carried the news of this prophecy to King Antiphates,\nwho, ready to do anything to vary the horrors of his solitary\nexistence, though secretly doubting the efficacy of such attempts,\ndisguised himself as a shepherd, and, unknown to his courtiers,\naccompanied his foster-brother to the cave.\n\nHere, after observing the accustomed ceremonies of purification and\nprayer, Antiphates approached the sarcophagus, and kneeling beside it,\ncraved some knowledge of his future fate, humbly demanding at the same\ntime whether any sacrifice on his part would procure for him the\npriceless gift of sight.\n\nHaving made these inquiries, the reluctant monarch, had now to lay low\nhis kingly head upon the breast of the long dead, and thus in a\nstifling and constrained attitude await the much-desired response. Each\nmoment seemed an age to the afflicted prince. All alone with these\nterrible emblems of mortality (for Antiphon remained without to guard\nthe entrance of the cave) he listened for he knew not what.\n\nAt last there arose upon the still dank air, as if from echoing vaults\nbeneath, an unearthly monotonous voice, chanting slowly the following\nwords:\n\n        A mighty King is blind,\n        And severed from his kind;\n    In his proud breast broods dark unrest,\n        No solace can he find.\n\n        The lands he calls his own,\n        His kingdom and his throne,\n    Are his by right; yet that fair sight\n        Is kept from him alone.\n\n        Revolving decades pass,\n        All flesh, we know, is grass;\n    With whitening hair, the king sits there,\n        He groweth old alas!\n\n        No joys of life are his,\n        He tastes no wedded bliss;\n    A monarch born, a man forlorn,\n        Nor wife nor babe to kiss.\n\n        Far, 'mid the forest drear,\n        A maiden without peer\n    His fate shall hear, and wake with fear\n        From dreams of little cheer.\n\n        By long and lonesome way\n        Two loving hearts shall stray,\n    That sovereign blind, in haste to find,\n        And Fate's behest obey.\n\n        Yet guard thyself, oh king!\n        Lest kindness sorrow bring!\n    Forbear to love, or time shall prove\n        That joy may hide a sting.\n\n        That pearl--a woman's love--\n        Might angels' envy move,\n    But powers that be, in wonder see,\n        How mortals changeful prove.\n\n        Joyous and fancy-free\n        Then let the maiden be,\n    Nor teach that child from regions wild\n        The meed of misery.\n    But if thou dost, thine own the cost,\n        And woe shall fall on thee!\n\nThe hollow voice ceased, once more all was still. Antiphates in vain\nasked other questions, and listened impatiently for further replies.\nMeeting with no more response, and thoroughly exhausted by the foul\natmosphere, he hailed his foster-brother, and, aided by him, breathed\nagain with thankfulness the pure outer air.\n\nThey returned to the palace in silence, for Antiphates, proud and\nreserved, vouchsafed no hint of the mysterious words to which he had\nlistened. He had indeed ample food left him for meditation.\n\nThis visit to the mummy took place during the night, and the disguised\nKing passed and repassed his unslumbering sentinels by means of his own\nsignet-ring, occasionally entrusted by him to confidential emissaries.\n\nThe apt rhymes he had heard haunted him incessantly. The mere mention\nof a forest was extraordinary--for with the exception of a fair-sized\nplantation in the midst of which Castle Xylina (the king's summer\npalace) stood, no large wood of any kind existed within many miles of\nhis capital.\n\nAs to love, the poor benighted King knew little about the capricious\ngod, save what he gathered from the songs of the minstrels and\ntroubadours, birds of passage who, ever certain of kind welcome and\nliberal patronage, flocked in numbers to his court.\n\nUnwilling to display his infirmity unnecessarily, Antiphates kept\nhimself aloof in general from his people. His palace was indeed the\nresort of all the most talented and intellectual men of the day. His\nfeasts were celebrated for the brilliant conversation and witty\nrepartee in which, not only his guests, but the monarch himself,\noccasionally indulged; at the expense of many an aching hour of lonely\nreaction.\n\nBut at these banquets no ladies were present, nor had the isolated\nsovereign any opportunity of becoming intimately acquainted with his\nfairer subjects. There were, it is true, the singing-girls, who nightly\nperformed before him with guitars and cymbals, and gave the blind king\nsome of the happiest hours of his life. Though he could not see their\ngraceful forms as they gaily danced to their own music, yet the\ntinkling of the silver bells on their arms and ankles formed a\nrhythmical and tuneful accompaniment to their melodious voices, that\nwafted fourfold enjoyment to the listening monarch. He showered\ngenerous gifts on these damsels, each of whom he knew apart by her\nvoice and step. They were, however, but the toys of the hour.\n\nWhen in pomp and state the King went abroad in his chariot, his fair\nsubjects anxiously pressed together to catch a glimpse of their\nsovereign's stern yet handsome features; but though they gratified\ntheir own curiosity, no reciprocal vision of bewildering charms crossed\nthe darkened vision of their lonely prince, as he was whirled proudly\nby in his dazzling equipage.\n\nUnwonted feelings therefore stirred in Antiphates' bosom as the\nprophecy of the cave again and again rang through his mind. After\nseveral days spent in musing and reflection, he resolved to return to\nthe oracle, and demand more exact particulars concerning the forest\nmaiden and the \"two loving hearts\" mentioned, anxious to set forth in\npursuit of them, if need be, round the world.\n\nAntiphon therefore, favoured by the darkness, once more led his royal\nfoster-brother to the mountain side, but no cave could they discover,\nthough for several hours they wandered up and down the very spot where\nthe shepherd had carefully noted the entrance by certain landmarks.\n\nIrritated and disappointed, Antiphates at last gave up the useless\nsearch, and during the succeeding days busied himself in sending forth\nexpress couriers over the country, north, west, and east, to seek for\nthe forest, and to find out and bring to Deva all discoverable denizens\nof woods, forests, and thickets. Besides this, he issued a royal\nmandate, setting forth that every wandering maiden should instantly be\nconducted to his palace. A few strolling gipsies were in consequence\nbrought before him, and told innumerable falsehoods concerning their\nprevious lives and companions, but none of them were able to throw the\nleast light upon the cause of the King's defective eyesight.\n\nPending the result of more active measures, however, Antiphates was\nroused from the apathy into which he had been plunged for many years\nregarding his misfortune, and taught himself to hope he hardly knew\nwhat, from the hidden pages of the future. But day after day went by,\nand no fresh event enlivened the dismal tranquillity of the palace\nprecincts.\n\nWe may thus more readily understand the monarch's abrupt condescension\nand excitement on hearing Fidunia's first words, and learning that she\nhad but lately quitted a forest. Her sweetly modulated voice at once\ncarried a favourable impression to his sensitive ear, and, conjoined\nwith the mysterious and ever-present prophecy, touched a slumbering\nchord in his jaded breast.\n\nIndeed, as they now drove back to the city from whence he had issued so\nshort a time before in listless uncertainty, his mind ran riot with\nwild chaotic fancies.\n\nThey drew near the frowning gates of Deva. A sudden pause, as the\nmassive portals rolled back on their hinges, and the soldiers presented\narms, awoke Fidunia from her trance. She started and looked around,\neagerly surveying the splendours of that enchanting capital.\n\nMeanwhile the fairer inhabitants of the town gathering, according to\nprimeval custom, by balcony, window, and doorway, to feast their eyes\non the royal pageant and the gallant escort of cavaliers; passed from\nmouth to mouth the incredible news that a stranger damsel was seated in\ntheir monarch's chariot. Ere the gaping crowd had time, however, to\nnote more than the mere outline of a drooping form, the narrow streets\nwere swiftly threaded, and scaling the little hill on which Xylina\nstood, the whole squadron disappeared within the leafy boundaries of\nKing Antiphates' summer residence.\n\nFidunia could not repress an exclamation of delighted wonder as they\nhalted at the palace door.\n\nCastle Xylina rose in turreted heights of dazzling whiteness above\nthem, pure as the day it was completed. In that favoured climate\nneither smoke nor inclement weather marred the snowy beauties of its\nmarble walls and terraces. It was approached by seven broad alleys: six\nof these, carpeted with natural greensward, converged through the small\nwood already mentioned, towards the broad central plateau. The seventh\navenue, leading from the town, up which the King had just driven, was\nlike the city itself, paved with lava.\n\nThe castle from its elevated situation, commanded an exquisite prospect\ntowards the south across the open bay of Deva. The surrounding trees\ncompletely shut out the neighbouring town. Only faint, distant sounds,\nand the chiming of church and convent bells borne upon the air,\nbetokened the near presence of the busy thousands below. Innumerable\ncraft, moreover, moored or moving on the still blue waters, gave an air\nof life to the otherwise dreamy silence, that with mistlike wings\nenfolded the fair prosperous Deva and her environs as Fidunia thus\nfirst beheld them.\n\nBut now a courtly throng pressed around, a hundred eyes were bent on\nthe embarrassed stranger and her singular companion, a hundred hands\nout-stretched to assist her in her descent from the carriage. But no\nsooner had the King himself touched the ground in safety, than he\nturned, and taking her hand in his, led her slowly up the broad white\nmarble steps into the central hall of his magnificent palace.\n\nShe had scarcely time to glance round her ere her royal host, divining\nboth her fatigue and her bashfulness, summoned and gave minute\ndirections to the women of the palace regarding her welfare, and\nresigned her into their charge. Smiling kindly on their unexpected\nguest, they ushered her along lofty passages to a chamber widely\ndifferent from any the simple maiden had ever beheld either in her\nwanderings or even in her dreams.\n\nThoroughly overcome by fatigue, and hardly pausing even to partake of\nthe tempting fare presented to her, or to survey the beauties of her\nnew abode, Fidunia sought her pillow. The neat-handed abigails, after\npreparing a bed for Fido within the recess where stood his mistress's\ncouch, retired, first bidding her summon them at will, as their\napartments were close at hand.\n\nYouth and exhaustion soon closed the stranger's eyes, and it was late\non the following day before Fidunia could rouse herself completely from\nher heavy slumbers.\n\nAt length a continuous plashing sound mingled itself with her dreams.\nShe thought she was once more in her forest home, and that the little\nfountain with its clear bubbling waters invited her to her morning\nbath.\n\nShe slowly unclosed her eyes. But no leafy branches spread their matted\nfoliage above her head; lovely rosy curtains fell instead on either\nside of her soft little couch. She raised herself--surprised and\nwondering--at her first movement, Fido already on the alert, capered\nacross the tesselated floor, oddly slipping hither and thither on its\nsmooth surface.\n\nShe stepped carefully from her alcove, and proceeded on a voyage of\nexploration. She soon ascertained that the sound of running water was\nno vain product of her own imagination, but that it came from a recess\ncorresponding to that in which she had slept. Within this niche a\nmarble Triton poured through his conch-shell a continuous stream. On\neither side the entrance to the snowy basin beneath, a nymph so stood\nthat the roseate curtains could either be held back in their extended\narms, or loosened completely to shut off the recess from the rest of\nthe room.\n\nOverjoyed at discovering this welcome substitute for her oft-regretted\nforest spring, Fidunia swiftly performed her simple toilet.\n\nWith all the carelessness of one little accustomed to regard her\npersonal appearance, she hardly even glanced at the magnificent\nburnished mirror and its costly accessories, but hastened from window\nto window, eager to become acquainted with her new abode.\n\nTowards the south, connected outside by a shady verandah, three long\nwindows fronted the open bay, commanding the same extensive view that\nhad delighted her the evening before. Two of similar form opened\neastward, and Fidunia could scarcely repress a shudder, as raising her\neyes to scan the more distant horizon, she beheld, frowning behind\nnearer slopes of verdant loveliness, the grim mountain of her dreams,\nwhose gloomy boundaries she had skirted on the previous day. A\nslumberous cloud partially shrouded its dark heights. In the vista of\ncoast, cape, and blue headland lengthening beyond, earth, sea, and sky,\nmelted into one indistinguishable haze of atmospheric beauty.\n\nEasily unfastening one of these eastern windows, Fidunia perceived a\nflight of steps leading thence into the palace gardens below. Followed\nby Fido, the fearless child of nature quickly descended the stairs, and\nplunged into the artificial intricacies of the pleasure grounds\nbeneath.\n\nA thrill of remembrance came upon her. Surely she had trodden these\ntrim-kept walks before, and inhaled the strange rich odour of the\nblossoming orange that hung heavy on the air?\n\nStopping, bewildered, she raised her hand to her brow. As she thus\nstood rapt in thought, the noise of approaching voices apprised her\nthat Antiphates, leaning on the arm of Domenichino, drew near. Swift as\nlightning, recollection flashed across her. While the impatient monarch\ncame towards her, guided by his servant, she half expected to see and\nhear the tiny elves who in her forest dreams had swung and sung their\neerie refrain amid just such scenes as these.\n\nWhen the King learned that she had not yet broken her fast, he\ncommanded food to be brought to an arbour near at hand, where he\nhimself joined his guest. He found much entertainment in trying to\nfollow the movements of the little dog, who, summoned by his mistress,\nwent through all his pretty tricks.\n\nWith unwonted softness in his voice and manner, Antiphates strove to\nset Fidunia at her ease, and to engage her in conversation. He led her\non to speak of herself and of her previous lonely life. He encouraged\nher to tell him all that had befallen her since she left the forest.\n\nDomenichino oftentimes listened in surprise. His master, hitherto so\nhasty and imperious, with rare patience, endeavoured to overcome\nFidunia's timidity and reserve. Antiphates even forgot to murmur\ncontinually at his own affliction--nay, he felt a certain pleasure in\nclaiming the young girl's assistance, as they wandered together in the\ngardens, or moved from room to room of the palace.\n\nDay after day glided swiftly away, and life became a fresh pleasure to\nthe weary King as he listened to the strange adventures and artless\nsayings of the ingenuous maiden. He derived perpetual amusement from\nher novel descriptions of familiar objects presented to him under a\nwidely different aspect by her humorous remarks.\n\nFor years upon years he had existed with all of visible beauty veiled\nfrom his sight; and he now conjured up to himself an exquisite ideal of\nhis youthful companion. Her low melodious voice, her gentle touch, and\nher soft light step, full of grace, taught him insensibly to dream of a\nfar fairer form than poor Fidunia actually possessed.\n\nHe became so deeply interested in his new friend, that ere long that\ninterest was merged in love. Morning, noon, and night, he was her\ninseparable companion, nor could he rest quiet when she was absent from\nhim. He found in her society a nameless charm that tamed and softened\nhis arrogant spirit. With extraordinary humility he learnt to defer to\nher slightest wish. With unwonted self-abnegation, he laid siege to the\ncitadel of her heart.\n\nListening entranced to his tender words, there now ensued a period\nwhen, for the first time to the guileless Fidunia, if not to her more\nexperienced suitor,\n\n    \"Love took up the glass of Time, and turned it in his glowing\n        hands;\n    Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.\n    Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with\n        might;\n    Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out\n        of sight.\"\n\nAntiphates soon told the wondering maiden all he had heard in the cave.\nHis thoughts turned continually upon the mysterious prophecy, and they\noften held sweet counsel together over those singular but\nwell-remembered words.\n\nA dim foreboding of evil in the future, and an intense clinging to the\npeaceful joyous life of the present, led Fidunia to approach this\nsubject with secret reluctance. An inward voice told her she possessed\nnot beauty's potent charm; yet she felt that to her blind monarch she\nwas all in all. Again and again she had to stifle the rising fear of\npossible change in his love, and chided herself for unworthy thoughts\nand lukewarm energy.\n\nWith all the eagerness of his impetuous nature, Antiphates constantly\nrecurred to the charge, urging Fidunia to do her utmost to deliver him\nfrom his infirmity. In glowing terms he depicted the pleasures of their\ncommon existence if he were able, not merely to hear and to feel, but\nto watch and to guide his heart's beloved through her future life.\n\nAs he spoke, the forest maid often felt the hidden talisman rise and\nfall with the heavings of her tender bosom. Obedient to the donor, she\nnever disclosed its existence, even to Antiphates, or told him of her\nstrange dreams. It needed, however, no small resolution on her part to\navail herself of the charm so solemnly committed to her charge by Dame\nAnna. At length, unable longer to resist the oft-repeated solicitations\nof her royal lover, she faithfully promised him to exert her feeble\npowers to the utmost on his behalf.\n\nWith a lingering footstep she sought her chamber that evening, filled\nwith awe at the prospect of invoking the aid of her scarce known\nfriend. When all was silent for the night, Fidunia trimmed the classic\nlamp by her bedside, for it was the new moon, and no light came from\nwithout. Watched only by the wakeful Fido, she drew the sparkling prism\nfrom its accustomed place. Remembering her instructions, she placed it\nin the palm of her hand, then bent (for another's sake), on peering\ninto futurity, she resolutely fixed her eyes on the talisman. Swaying\nto and fro with the intensity of her emotions, she chanted the required\ninvocation:\n\n    Strange gem, upon thy crystal core\n    I gaze, the while I aid implore;\n    Trembling upon the verge of fate,\n    Oh, point my path ere yet too late!\n    I fain would gain the boon I ask.\n    Is mine the strength for such a task?\n    Canst thou unloose the links that bind,\n    Or vanquish powerful foes combined?\n    Then show whate'er there lurks of art\n    Within thine own mysterious heart;\n    On thee I turn a hopeful eye,\n    Bright stone of silence, make reply.\n\nThe magic stone grew larger and larger. Its brilliant centre, like a\nsearching eye, returned Fidunia's gaze with dazzling refulgence.\nHeavier and heavier drooped her falling lids, her recumbent form sought\nmore and more the support of her little couch, at length borne down by\nresistless force, she lay unnerved and motionless.\n\nThe lamp became extinguished. All was dark, silent, and blank. Her\ncorporeal frame slumbered inert and passive. But now every spiritual\nfaculty throbbed into keen activity. The whole chamber was filled with\nsoft penetrating light. The kind Anna's well-remembered form stood\nbeside her. With one hand she raised Fidunia on her couch, with the\nother she pointed towards the south.\n\nTo Fidunia's intense surprise, she beheld a ray of moonlight illumine\nthe sombre waters of the Bay of Deva, reaching in one narrow unbroken\nline to what she well knew as the distant though hitherto unvisited\nisland of Spera. She gazed bewildered from her raised alcove, which\ncommanded an easy view of the landscape beneath, through the wide, open\nwindows.\n\nHow could the small silver horn of the newborn moon cast such brilliant\nlight on the dark ocean? She turned a troubled glance towards her\nunwonted visitant, but her voice was spell-bound; the questions she\nfain would have uttered died upon her lips. With a sad and solemn\ngesture her protectress still pointed towards the heights of Spera,\nthen sighed, rather than said these lines:\n\n    Far, far o'er the depths of that shimm'ring blue sea,\n    The drops trickle slowly so sought for by thee;\n    Enwrapt by the jealous embrace of the deep,\n    A lake without sky, without motion doth sleep.\n    Though distant, and hidden the shrine of the cave\n    By the busy bright waters its entrance that lave,\n    Yet only the touch of an innocent maiden\n    Can e'er give effect to those drops virtue-laden.\n    At midnight a ray shall illumine the portal\n    All sombre and silent, ne'er threaded by mortal.\n    At midnight, by moonlight, that path can be crossed,\n    By her, who heroic, ne'er counteth the cost.\n    Oh, chilly the ocean, and lonely the hour,\n    Or the charm that thou seekest is reft of its power;\n    And voiceless and mute thine endeavours must be,\n    Or fruitless thy labours and harmful to thee.\n    Yet, maiden, forbear! ere thou challenge the spell\n    Remember--with thee and with thine it is well!\n    In thee and thy love the blind monarch is blest:\n    Then dwell in his palace--Fidunia--at rest.\n\nAs the last couplet fell on Fidunia's ears all else became as nought.\nThe dear thought of her first and faithful lover filled her imaginative\nmind. What recked she of trouble or sorrow to be undergone in his\nservice! Would she not even give life itself for the sake of him who\nhad first called into existence all the passionate but unknown wealth\nof her unselfish soul! Dreamily she recalled to herself his whispered\nvows, his ardent tones, and thus from waking dreams slowly fell on\nsleep, undisturbed and profound.\n\nIt was late the following morning before she awoke to the realities of\nlife. As she dressed herself she pondered much over the visions of the\nnight. Was all a dream, like her forest fancies?\n\nShe looked everywhere for the talisman, but it was nowhere to be seen.\nIts absence weighed somewhat heavily on her mind. The reality of her\nmidnight experience was brought home to her, as she perpetually missed\nthe shining stone from its wonted hiding-place.\n\nFidunia now hastened to her monarch's presence. Considering that the\nloss of the talisman released her from her promise of secrecy, she\nconfided its whole history to the astonished King. She told him also\nher waking vision of the previous night. She described Dame Anna's\nappearance, and repeated some of her words.\n\nThoroughly roused Antiphates entreated Fidunia to keep nothing more\nconcealed from him. Using all his powers of persuasion he at length\ndrew from her unwilling lips the particulars of her three wild forest\ndreams.\n\n  [Illustration: FIDO AND FIDUNIA.\n   \"Thoroughly roused, Antiphates entreated Fidunia to keep nothing\n   more concealed from him.\"--P. 170.]\n\nIn a voice trembling with emotion he hailed the forest maiden as his\npredestined deliverer, nor was his eager curiosity satisfied till he\nhad asked innumerable questions. Fidunia sighed as she noted his\nfeverish agitation. Remembering the warning contained in the last\nrhythmical lines, she feared lest his hopes should be dashed to the\nground.\n\nAs they sat together in his favourite turret above the castle porch, he\nexplained to her that rumour spoke of a hidden cave in the Isle of\nSpera. Recalling to mind the line of light she had so distinctly seen\nacross the bay, Fidunia pointed it out as having terminated beneath the\nhighest peak of the island. Antiphates decided that an endeavour to\nfind the cave should be made when the moon next became full. He would\nfain himself have aided in the search; but Fidunia, anxious to have her\nmind steadfastly set on the one object of the expedition, persuaded him\nto remain within the palace, and to allow her to go forth guarded only\nby Domenichino.\n\nDomenichino secretly hired, as for his own use, one of the boats\nbelonging to a fisherman of Spera. He carefully questioned the men of\nthe place about their island. They all seemed aware of the probable\nexistence of a cave only accessible from the sea, but partly from the\ndreamy indolence common to those climes, partly from superstition, no\none had as yet discovered its entrance. A thousand old legends,\nhowever, sung of the hidden beauties of this wondrous grotto, a hundred\nwild tales were told among these simple people of the magic and\nwonder-working fountain therein concealed from mortal eyes.\n\nAt last the time arrived when, at midnight, Cynthia should reach her\ncold meridian of beauty. Fidunia resolved to leave Fido for the first\ntime behind her. She committed him to the willing charge of the King,\nbut the little animal, who from the first had taken a dislike to\nAntiphates, could not be got away from his mistress's chamber. There,\nextended on the moonlit verandah, he remained during her absence,\ndisconsolate and wakeful.\n\nIt was a night of peaceful calm. As the sturdy rowers urged on their\nvessel, her bows parted the waters into a thousand phosphorescent\nripples, which, widening as the boat moved onward, spread into one\nbroad, flaming wake in their rear.\n\nFidunia carried with her an ancient gold goblet, wherein the King\nbesought her to place the precious drops, should she succeed in\nobtaining them. Grasping it tightly in her hand, as if to persuade\nherself she was not dreaming, she gazed awestruck on the overwhelming\nbeauty of the landscape, arrayed in night's fairest covering.\n\nAlready distant, the City of Deva lay white and ghost-like under the\nmoon's pale ray. Here and there a gleam of light showed that there were\nwatchers on land, and from the high turret window of Castle Xylina one\nruddy gleam shot a quivering reflection far along the ever-lengthening\ntrack of their little craft.\n\nBefore them the nearing crags of Spera rose abrupt and beetling towards\nthe sky. The boat moved rapidly along. Now became audible the surging\nswell and low muffled boom of the ocean, ever chafing, ever restless,\neven when apparently at peace; and ever repelled by those giant\nsentinels of the deep. Numbers of sea-birds, disturbed by the unwonted\nsplash of oars, wheeled screaming above their heads, and suddenly\nbrought to Fidunia's mind with agitating distinctness the recollection\nof her second forest dream.\n\nBut all other thoughts were merged in the approaching performance of\nher self-imposed task. They had gradually rounded the opening to a\nlittle bay where the water seemed more shallow, and the sea only broke\nin tiny wavelets upon a small shelf of pearly white sand. Here Fidunia\nstepped from the boat. Leaving human companionship behind, she slowly\npaced along the narrow margin. Finally, following the moon-lit line and\nheedful of Domenichino's oft-repeated instructions, she disappeared\nbehind the frowning ledge of rock which bounded the narrow inlet.\n\nOnly a very few minutes after she had thus gone from their sight, they\ncould hear dimly across the intervening waters, the faint tolling of\nthe midnight bells in the great City. In indescribable anxiety\nDomenichino, who alone (among these rude boat-men) knew her peril,\ncounted the minutes till Fidunia's return, and resolved that at the\nexpiration of a certain time he would at all risks persist in following\nthe unprotected maiden.\n\nBut, ere the appointed period had elapsed, Fidunia, with buoyant steps,\nturned swiftly the dark boundary and rapidly drew near. High resolve\nsat upon her brow and stamped her features with a noble ardour. Closely\nclasped to her bosom she held the precious vase, but to no mortal ear\nmight she unfold the thrilling tale of her solitary experience.\n\nHad she within those mystic precincts heard a warning voice which bade\nher pause ere she dashed the cup of earthly happiness from her lips?\nHow and where had she obtained the crystal liquid that leapt and\nsparkled in its golden prison? Had she entered the ice-cold waters and\nbraved the wave-engulfing arms of the merry, malicious mer-men, who\nwarily watch, and at the midnight hour have power to bear to their\ncoral haunts the bold earth-maiden who shall step within their native\nelement?\n\nThese, and numberless other questions, crowded into Domenichino's mind\nas he sped to meet her; but she raised her finger to her lips, and with\na mute gesture of entreaty silently took her place in the little\nvessel. The weather-beaten boatmen shrank back as she passed them by,\nher hair and garments glistening with a thousand rainbow-coloured\ndrops; yet, as she dreamily took her place in the stern, one, less\nbashful than his compeers, awkwardly placed his rough coat so as to\nshelter and keep her warm.\n\nThe wind had arisen. It swept moaningly around, hurrying dark clouds\nacross the face of the moon, and presently shrouding her altogether\nfrom their sight. But the red tower-light from distant Xylina guided\nthe homeward-bound crew, and ere very long they were safely landed\nbelow the slumbering City.\n\nStill voiceless, Fidunia, with lagging footsteps, ascended the steep\nhill. Her energy was gone; she leant heavily on Domenichino's arm, and\nbut for his aid must have fallen more than once exhausted by the way.\nAt last the castle was reached. In answer to her signal the faithful\nesquire knocked at his master's turret door. An impatient voice bade\nthem enter. Antiphates himself, stumbling hastily to meet them, started\nas he took Fidunia's cold hand in his. She gently withstood his eager\ninquiries and solicitude for her health. \"Sire,\" she murmured, \"I am\nvery weary, but these poor hands must this night bathe your eyes.\"\n\nAt her words the King, obedient, sank on a couch near at hand, and\nFidunia, dipping her fingers into the golden goblet, timidly pressed\nthem again and again over his burning eyelids. Her cool, soft touch\nsoothed his irritated nerves and brought refreshing peace to his\nrestless mind. A strange calm folded its enshadowing wings around those\nbusy brows and wrapt the imperious monarch in a sweet and childlike\nslumber.\n\nRaising her finger again to her lips, in token of silence, and signing\nto Domenichino to leave his sovereign for the night, Fidunia quitted\nthe turret chamber and sought her own apartment. Here the listening\nFido greeted her approaching footsteps with a whine of delight, and\ntestified his joy at her return by many expressive gambols.\n\nLong into the night she sat on her balcony, acting over in thought\nagain and again the exciting scenes of that eventful evening. It seemed\nto her she had only just fallen asleep when she was suddenly startled\nfrom her slumbers by a loud paean of rejoicing blown from the castle\nwall by the silver trumpets.\n\nFor a moment recollection failed her, but then glad certainty flashed\non her mind, and, as if to make assurance doubly sure, some of the\nwomen of the palace, rushing abruptly into her chamber, confirmed the\nglad tidings. They urged her to arise and dress in haste, for the King\ncould not rest till he had seen and thanked his deliverer in person.\n\nFidunia hurriedly arrayed herself. Accompanied by Fido, she hastened\nalong the now well-known passages of the palace. She ascended the broad\nstairs and passed the tall guards in the corridor, with their nodding\nplumes. The doors of the presence chamber were thrown open before her.\nOn the threshold she stood a moment irresolute. Then, notwithstanding\ntheir intimacy, knowing his newly-gained power, she advanced timidly\ntowards the great King. There was a pause, she raised her eyes to his.\nThe monarch seemed transformed! Instead of half-closed, unseeing eyes,\nand all the accompanying hesitation and uncertainty, two searching orbs\nnow bent their dark majesty full on the bashful maiden. In that one\nmoment she drank in the fatal secret, which no after-words could\ndisguise.\n\nIt was but too true!\n\nA passionate adorer of beauty, Antiphates had, during the past months,\nalmost unknown to himself, clothed his unseen love with perfect\nloveliness. His heart therefore beat high with expectation as her\nfootfall was heard at the door, and when, with her attendant Fido, she\nentered alone, he could not control the impulse of disappointment too\nplainly written on his expressive, speaking countenance.\n\nThe dawn of light on his long-darkened orbs revealed to him the\nunattractive colouring and irregular features of the being he had in\nblindness learned to adore, and no self-command on his part could\nconceal from love's unerring instinct his change of mood.\n\nNow, however, with well-simulated alacrity, he rose from his throne.\nStepping down with a free, unfettered gait, widely different from his\nwonted stumbling manner, he took the maiden's hand in his own. Pouring\nconfused and hurried thanks into her ear, he led her to the seat where\nshe had passed so many happy hours.\n\nIn vain he strove to conjure back the fascination Fidunia once\npossessed for him. Oh! subtle influence! who can accurately define the\nthrilling tie that makes the one we love different from all the world\nbeside? who, when the frail chain of enchantment is once severed, can\njoin again those mystic links?\n\nThe King and Fidunia conversed in low tones, apparently unchanged: the\ngay courtiers around at least observed no cloud on the horizon. Waiting\nwithin call, they clustered eagerly around Domenichino to hear his\nadventures of the previous night, and to discuss together the\napproaching marriage of the maiden, now beloved by all, with their\nfortune-favoured prince. They recked not of the cold shadow that crept\nslowly into the little maid's heart, and clouded her fair and hitherto\nuntroubled sky.\n\nFido alone, close and vigilant, marked the awakening sorrow of his\nbeloved mistress. He felt the hand that caressed him grow cold and\npulseless. He noted the accent of despair in Fidunia's choking voice.\nHis unsophisticated nature rose indignant at the selfishness of the\nhuman friend, who (after such vows breathed, and responded to by her to\nwhom they were addressed), could change and grow indifferent to the\nbeing who had gone through so much for his sake.\n\nHow true it is that maidens, like flowers, expand in the presence of\nhim they love, in the warm sunshine of adoration. When that cheering\nbeam is withdrawn, how colourless and scentless, how devoid of beauty,\ndo their drooping blossoms become!\n\nEven so it was with Fidunia, the happy light that had of late dawned in\nher gray eyes now faded away. Hour after hour she wept alone on her\nsleepless pillow, sadly musing over times departed,\n\n    \"Departed never to return.\"\n\nOne wakeful night she poured out her thoughts in these words:\n\n    The silent hour of night prevailed, the Earth\n    Was in her first and dewy slumber, while\n    The Moon unveiled her pure and peerless light,\n    And threw her radiance o'er the dusky haunts\n    Of men.\n          An atom on the world's broad breast\n    Alone, beneath those chilly beams I mused,\n    On Death and Immortality.\n                                My soul\n    Sped swiftly upward on the ethereal ray,\n    And left enthralled the grosser part of self,\n    The slumbering mortal portion of my frame.\n\n    *        *        *        *        *\n\n    The spirit world was gained, and for a space\n    Enchantment wove mine aching heart a strange\n    Bright web of many hued delight. She gave\n    To that brief Dream all the reality\n    That made its flying moments passing sweet.\n    The kindly echoes lent their magic aid,\n    And tones reverberated in mine ear\n    Whose music gently whispered rapture, not\n    Of Earth, but of some far-off lovely Land,\n    A Time when all that is not yet may be.\n\n    *        *        *        *        *\n\n    With trembling sigh, from happiness too great,\n    I all unknowing broke the mystic spell,\n    And shivering back, through dark and dreary ways,\n    No Moon to guide the weary feet, no Light\n    To cheer the falling spirit, once again\n    Within dull clay poor Psyche found her home,\n    And woke to bitter loneliness and woe.\n\nShe had in truth a rough awakening from her dream of happiness. As day\nby day the restless monarch showed more and more the change in his\nfeelings that perfect vision had wrought, Fidunia not only passed\nthrough the deep waters of sorrow in realizing his alienation, but\nexperienced moreover a fresh and equally poignant pain as the veil of\nillusion fell from her disenchanted eyes, and taught the simple-hearted\nyoung girl that she could never again regard her monarch with the same\ntrusting faith.\n\nTo one of hasty impulsive temperament like Antiphates, dissimulation\nproved impossible: however much he was bound, alike by the ties of\nhonour and of gratitude, to keep the vows publicly pledged to his\ndeliverer, he could not forgive the hapless girl her lack of outward\nbeauty. He valued not the delicate refinement of her nature. He marked\nnot the ethereal spirit that shone unconquerable through her\ntransparent eye. His affection had been of the earth, earthy;\nevanescent as frail mortality itself.\n\nNor was Fidunia's spirit formed in a mould to sicken and die of\nunrequited affection. In happier days, the happiest of her short life,\nshe had, in spite of the vast difference in their ages, learned to\nregard the gifted King with something akin to reverential love. The\neager wooing of one so talented and fascinating could not fail to\nproduce some corresponding effect on the imagination of the forest\nmaiden. Not unsolicited she had yielded up her gentle heart, and come\ngradually to centre all the hopes and thoughts of her young life upon\nAntiphates.\n\nShe now grew to spend longer hours each day in wandering round the\nprecincts of Xylina. The child of nature, she ever found her truest\nsolace beneath the wide canopy of heaven. There no walls pent in her\nlabouring sobs, no human eye beheld the slowly falling tears, mourners\nover a vanished past, that welled up one by one from her burning heart;\ntears that slowly rising, purified still further her much afflicted\nspirit, and weaned her soul from the earthly love which for a time had\nsatisfied that strange immortal portion of mortality.\n\nFido, ever beside his mistress, grew like her, pensive and forlorn. He\nknew she was in grief, and his mute sympathy gave her comfort, as\ntogether they climbed through the mazy wood, or explored the hills that\nrose behind the castle.\n\nIn these wanderings, Fidunia came frequently to a knoll, commanding the\nlovely expanse of waters beneath. Looking across the broad bay of Deva,\nthe horizon was bounded only by the fair island of Spera, so fraught\nwith memory's brightest records. Here upon a bank of wild thyme,\nsheltered by the cool olive trees, and fanned by the passing breeze,\nshe pondered over her mysterious lot, and shudderingly thought of the\nblank untrodden future.\n\nBut counsel and comfort already approached. One day as she thus sat,\nrapt and musing, a gentle voice addressed her; turning half alarmed,\nshe beheld the sweetest face her eyes had ever dwelt upon. That\ncountenance shone with heaven-born beauty. \"Sister Angela\" (for thus\nthe stranger was called) had also sorrowed, but she had found lasting\ncomfort in the convent of Saint Sebastian. This monastery was near at\nhand, though partially concealed by the dense foliage and the masses of\ncreepers which clothed its outer walls. Angela had oftentimes seen and\nyearned over the sorrowful young girl, and at last, issuing forth,\nventured to greet her.\n\nShe tenderly saluted Fidunia, who, before long, learnt to love and\ntrust her new friend. She soon came daily to seek for guidance and\ncomfort at her hands, confiding to Angela's sympathizing ears the\nchequered story of her brief life.\n\nMeantime, to add still further to the griefs of poor Fidunia, her\nlittle dog disappeared. She first missed him one afternoon as, after\nlong converse with her new found friend, she turned to descend the\ngrassy slopes to Castle Xylina.\n\nDuring those hours she had formed a high and holy resolution. Alone in\nthe world, she aspired to become one of the sisterhood to whom Angela\nbelonged, and to find an asylum for her wearied wounded heart within\nthe sacred walls of Saint Sebastian.\n\nOn reaching the Castle, Fidunia sought everywhere for Fido, but no one\nhad seen him, or could tell whither he had gone. While occupied in\nthreading the long passages and calling anxiously for her missing\ncompanion, she met Domenichino hastening to entreat her attendance on\nthe King. Without returning to her chamber to alter her attire, Fidunia\nturned and accompanied him to the royal presence.\n\nAntiphates met her at the entrance of the hall. In kind yet constrained\ntones the monarch condoled with her as he heard of Fido's\ndisappearance. He gave orders moreover that the strictest search should\nat once be instituted throughout Deva and its environs for Fidunia's\ndear little favourite.\n\n\"But now,\" continued the King, leading her to a deep embrasure, whence\ncould be seen the fair landscape beneath, \"I am anxious you should name\nthe day for the ceremony that is to unite the debtor to his mistress,\nand thus permit me to fulfil my plighted troth.\" So saying, he carried\nher hand lightly to his lips, and looked searchingly upon her. But even\nhis bold eyes fell rebuked beneath Fidunia's pure enquiring gaze, now\ndivested of all hesitation or embarrassment. No word of reproach for\nhis altered behaviour towards her, since she had restored his sight,\nfell from her. No murmur escaped her. But her voice quavered as, in a\nfew simple sentences, she unfolded to him the purpose she had that day\nformed of taking upon herself the vows of Saint Sebastian.\n\nA sense of momentary shame at his own want of generosity dyed the\nKing's rough cheek a deeper hue. He felt his inability to urge Fidunia\nwith any zest to renounce her lofty aspirations. He strove to conceal\nhis satisfaction, but he knew too well that her voluntary self-devotion\nrelieved him from a perplexing dilemma.\n\nNevertheless he cast about in his mind for some form of remonstrance;\nbut before he could frame the words on his unwilling lips, she was\ngone.\n\nStung to her inmost heart by the inscrutable changes in his variable\nnature, and already overwrought by the day's emotions, the hapless\nFidunia only reached her chamber in time to shut from every human eye\nher deadly struggle, her last overwhelming battle with wounded mortal\nlove.\n\nDays slowly elapsed without intelligence of Fido, and the arrangements\nbecame gradually completed by which, upon the Festival of All Saints,\nFidunia was to enter her noviciate.\n\nAll Hallow's Eve drew near. On the morrow the lonely Fidunia was to bid\nfarewell to the outer world, and rest her wearied tempest-tossed head\nwithin the peaceful cloistered shades.\n\nShe sought her luxurious chamber for the last time, and unfastening the\nwindow, stepped out on the broad balcony. The glorious full moon once\nmore illuminated with clear cold light each beloved object in the\nexquisite panorama so dear to her.\n\nHuman sorrow asserted its own in the maiden's breast, as in spirit she\nbade farewell to the slumbering monarch who, for a brief period, had\nbeen her sun and firmament, the \"all\" for which in the forest depths\nher innocent soul had insensibly pined.\n\nA sudden pattering footstep sounded near, and looking inwards, lo!\nthrough the moonlit chamber, approached the truant Fido. In the\nimperfect light he seemed faint and weary; but Fidunia sprang to meet\nhim, and raised and fondled the little wanderer in her arms, asking him\nthe while many a question about his strange absence, half reproaching\nhim for his desertion.\n\nAs she held the little dog close to her breast, rejoicing over his\nreturn, she felt something of a novel character around his neck. She\ngently unfastened a cord, and found attached to it a small phial\ncarefully sealed, yet emitting a wondrous fragrance.\n\nSomehow assuming from her companion's quiescent attitude that the flask\nwas for her own use, she slipped it into her bosom, and forgetting all\nelse, again yielded herself to vague yearnings over the unfulfilled\nvisions of the past. It was long before she stepped from the window,\nand placing Fido on the ground prepared for her last night's rest in\nthe palace.\n\nAs she let down the now lengthened tresses of her thick hair, Fido\nthough evidently exhausted, refused to lie down. Seemingly ill at ease,\nhe watched her every movement with painful anxiety. When at length she\ndrew near the marble bath, wherein she nightly plunged, his agitation\nknew no bounds, and as in undressing she displaced the phial from her\ngarments he uttered a series of short sharp barks restlessly springing\nthe while backwards and forwards from his mistress to the edge of the\nalcove. So close was the companionship between Fidunia and her faithful\ncompanion, that she at once divined his meaning, and undoing the seal\nand extracting the stopper from the bottle, she emptied its contents\ninto the water. Scarcely had she done so when the whole chamber became\nfilled with a delicious perfume. As one in a trance, half overcome by\nthe powerful scent, Fidunia entered her bath, and felt at once the\nextraordinary invigorating power which seemed to emanate from those few\ndrops of liquid.\n\nAll sorrow was lifted from her heart. Already in imagination she joined\nin the sweet praiseful strains of the Sebastian sisters. Angelic forms\nmoved around her, and the moon's pale rays at length guided the weary\nmaiden to her pillow. Stretching out one soft arm over her faithful\ndog, lying in his cot by her side, and lulled by a foretaste of\nheaven's own music, Fidunia sank into dreams of ecstatic beauty.\n\nThe loud pealing of a thousand bells for the Festival of All Saints at\nlast awoke the neophyte from her deep repose. For a moment she started\nand half forgot her resting place; but her eye fell upon her little\ndog. Something strange in his attitude struck her. Startled, she sprang\nto her feet and bent over him.\n\nHis sleep was surely very deep! Yes, Fidunia! sound are those slumbers\nfrom which not even the touch of thy beloved hand can rouse his wearied\nform, or call forth a response from the wistful eyes, wont to hang upon\nthy lightest gesture.\n\nWith an exceeding bitter cry, Fidunia fell beside her lost favourite\nand vainly chafed his stiffening limbs. As she stooped over him, her\neyes swimming in tears, she perceived in the morning light a small\nscroll lying on the floor by his couch. She hastily raised it, and\nnoted \"This for Fidunia\" traced upon the outer covering. She tore it\nopen, and through the mists of sorrow that perpetually dimmed her\nvision, she read these words:\n\n    \"Sweet daughter, when thou readest this, thy faithful servant will\n    be no more. Know that the little dog, Fido, through many past days\n    and nights hath mourned over thine exceeding sorrow and thy low\n    estate.\n\n    \"He held thee altogether lovely, but he knew from human fellowship\n    that those who owed most to thy labours, my child, had weighed\n    thine outward beauty in the balance and found it wanting. He\n    watched thine affliction till his own heart went nigh to break; and\n    then, calling to remembrance my counsels and assistance to thee, he\n    left thy side, and through many hardships and with great fatigue he\n    gained once more my little cottage by the wide and spreading\n    common. I made known to him that the gift of earthly beauty could\n    only be thine through the self-sacrifice of one who loved thee to\n    the death. Thy faithful companion hath cheerfully laid down his\n    sinless existence for thy dear sake.\n\n    \"Heaven guard thee and guide thee, Fidunia!\n\n    \"ANNA.\"\n\nAs Fidunia, penetrated to her very inmost soul by the dying fidelity of\nher beloved dog, sank again over his inanimate frame, a loud and\npersistent knocking made itself heard at her chamber door. She had\nbarely time to cast on her outer garments before the palace women,\nalarmed by her first cry, and hearing no response to their summons,\nthrust open the door and drew inquisitively near the weeping maiden.\n\nFidunia rose from her knees, and casting an indignant look on the\namazed intruders, she exclaimed, \"Behold your thoughtless work! It was\nthrough you and yours that my poor dog learnt the small esteem in which\nhis mistress was held, and has thus been goaded to his death.\"\n\nNo answer came from the gathering throng. Awed and abashed, they herded\ntogether. Whence came the ineffable beauty that sat upon Fidunia's\nbrow, and cast a radiance over her shining hair? That it was the forest\nmaiden none could doubt, but how exquisitely soft and fair her\nlineaments, as standing in the morning sun before her dead comrade's\ncouch, she gave vent to her feelings of passionate reproach.\n\nAt this moment Domenichino, hastily entering, heralded the King's\napproach. The news of the death of Fido and of Fidunia's miraculous and\nnew-born beauty had spread like wild-fire through the Castle.\n\nAntiphates, no less bewildered than his subjects, hesitated half\nawe-struck on the threshold of the young girl's chamber, which he now\nfor the first time proposed to enter. Recovering himself promptly,\nhowever, with an imperious gesture he signed to his surrounding people\nto leave the apartment, and then slowly advanced to the now silent but\nstill weeping Fidunia.\n\nIn bygone days, all unknown to the sightless monarch, the very sound of\nhis approaching footsteps had power to suffuse her cheek with blushes.\nNow coldly conscious of his presence, she stood before him without\nresponsive sign, the loveliest creature upon God's wide earth, the\nrealized ideal of his fairest dreams.\n\nWrapped in her white morning robe, with her yet unbound hair falling\nback in rich clustering masses from her pure pale brow and pearly skin\nof dazzling whiteness; a solemn depth shone from her dark blue eyes,\nbearing still a wealth of tears unshed; while a faint evanescent colour\nlike the transparent petal of the wood anemone played upon her rounded\ncheek.\n\nAll unknown to herself, clothed in this wondrous panoply of beauty,\nFidunia awaited her sovereign's commands. To her unspeakable surprise\nthe monarch seemed overcome with some unbidden emotion. Again and again\nhe vainly assayed to speak; at length, drawing near, he bent his proud\nknee before her, and in agitated tones besought her pardon.\n\n\"Sire,\" replied Fidunia, \"as regards myself, I have little to forgive,\nbut would that my dumb companion had been spared the knowledge that\nhath cost him his faithful life.\"\n\n\"Oh, Fidunia!\" cried the enamoured Prince, \"forget these sad weeks\nwherein we have suffered disquiet, and during which untoward shadows\nhave obscured my vision, and consent, as you once promised, to be my\nbride. I swear to you, my darling,\" continued he, pressing closer to\nthe shrinking girl, \"that in my love and tender care you shall find\nconsolation even for the death of your poor lost favourite.\"\n\nWith an effort Fidunia extricated her hand from his nervous grasp, and\nthe red flush of indignation mounting higher and higher, she exclaimed,\n\"Nay, my liege, this is neither the time nor the place wherein to renew\nthe vows which of late have sat so light on thy heart and conscience.\nHere in the presence of the faithful dead, spare me, I pray thee, all\nreference to the unfaithful past. That chapter is closed for ever. On\nthis morning, with thy free consent, I take upon myself new and holy\nvows. Yes,\" repeated she, raising her speaking eyes to the glorious\neastern sky, \"I am accounted worthy to become the lowly bride of\nHeaven.\" And as if in confirmation of her words, a gust of wind brought\nfaintly to their ears, through the wide open window, the glad chiming\nof the Saint Sebastian bells, ringing in anticipation of the ceremonial\nof the day.\n\n\"Now by my crown and kingdom,\" whispered Antiphates, in burning ardent\ntones, \"that thou never shalt become, for mine thou art and mine thou\nshalt remain while I have life and power to keep thee.\" So saying he\nsprang to his feet and enfolding Fidunia in his arms, pressed her\nfiercely to his breast.\n\nWeary and distraught, and well nigh overcome with the struggle, as she\nfelt the loud pulsations of his throbbing heart, and experienced the\nmesmeric influence of strong earthly passion, the sorely bestead maiden\nbreathed from her fainting soul an earnest prayer for guidance; and her\nsilent petition for aid in the hour of need was answered.\n\nA low strain of music sounded through the chamber, and the reluctant\nKing involuntarily released his trembling captive, as the door slowly\nopening admitted two by two the veiled and white arrayed sisters of\nSaint Sebastian coming to adorn their promised novice for the\napproaching ceremony.\n\nIn vain the distracted Prince commanded them to pause in their holy\nduties, in vain he implored Fidunia to delay even for a day her\nirrevocable vows.\n\nBorne back by the gentle but resistless force of the sacred band, and\nsecretly abashed at the recollection of his own conduct, Antiphates\nstood spell-bound, devouring with hungry eyes the peerless beauty of\nthe maid, whom too late, he knew to be the one golden hope of his life.\nThey arrayed her in bridal robes of exceeding splendour. They placed a\ncoronal of blooming orange flowers upon her faultless head.\n\nWhen all was completed Fidunia, turning to Domenichino, pleaded with\nhim to convey what remained of her devoted servant to the little thymy\nknoll beneath the olive trees, and there within easy reach of her\nconvent walls, to lay to rest the still beautiful form of the faithful\nFido.\n\nThen, stepping aside as if to bid him farewell, she raised and kissed\nthe silent Prince's hand, murmuring in tones that he alone could hear,\n\"while life lasts I shall pray for thee.\" Ere he could respond the\nprocession slowly re-formed, and descending the broad palace-stairs,\nswept onwards along the avenue of grassy sward, and through the\norange-scented gardens of Xylina to the hallowed precincts of Saint\nSebastian on the Hill.\n\nWithin the chapel where the holy fathers waited, many had collected to\nwitness the ceremony, but the King and his cortege occupied the places\nnearest to the sisters and the young aspirant.\n\nThrough his intervention her meditations were yet again disturbed, as\nhe besought her once more to turn from her purpose, and to remain amid\nthe outer world as his loved and honoured bride. She steadfastly\nrefused to listen to his entreaties. The service proceeded, and the\nnovice at length prepared to pass through the iron gateway that should\nnow close to all eternity between her and the world without. A ray from\nheaven fell on her beautiful figure, and illumined her devout features,\nas she stood waiting to receive the white consecrated veil of the\nsisterhood.\n\nThe long enveloping folds shrouded her from head to foot, and as\nFidunia's golden head disappeared for ever from the sight of man, the\nwhole air became filled with the celestial voices of the choir, singing\nthese glorious words,\n\n    \"She is not dead, but liveth.\"\n\n\n\n\nEUDAEMON:\n\nOR\n\n_THE ENCHANTER OF THE NORTH_.\n\n\nOn the eastern side of the Isle of Raasay there still stands a lonely\nruin known as Castle Brochel. Perched upon precipitous rocks at the\nvery verge of the ocean, it is easy to imagine how, armed and\nprovisioned, this fortress held its own amid the perpetual warfare of\nearly Celtic times.\n\n  [Illustration: EUDAEMON\n   P. 199.]\n\nCastle Brochel has always borne a doubtful reputation. According to\ntradition, it was originally built with the price of blood, for the\nancient legend runs somewhat after this fashion.\n\nShiel Torquil went forth with his dogs one morning to hunt the red deer\non the wild mountains Blaven and Glamaig, in the neighbouring Island of\nSkye. Shiel Torquil had with him only one retainer, but he was a host\nin himself, being surnamed, from his immense size and strength, the\nGillie More. After some time they sighted a stag. In the ardour of the\nchase the dogs soon ran out of sight, pursuing their quarry towards the\nshore at Sligachan.\n\nNow it so happened that the young Kreshinish in his galley was anchored\non that side of the island within sight of the beach. He saw the hunted\nanimal about to take to the water, and swim, as deer are often known to\ndo, across the narrow strait which lies between Skye and Raasay.\nKreshinish and his men at once landed and took possession, not only of\nthe stag itself, but of the dogs which, panting and exhausted, were\nunable to offer any resistance.\n\nShiel Torquil presently appeared on the scene and angrily asked for his\ndeer and his hounds. Kreshinish refused to deliver them up. A bloody\nstruggle ensued, during which the Gillie More inflicted a fatal wound\nupon the ill-fated young chieftain who unwittingly (at first) had\ninterfered with the sports of another. This brought the affray to a\nspeedy conclusion, and Shiel Torquil with his follower carried off deer\nand dogs in triumph.\n\nNot long after this the poor old father of Kreshinish came to Skye to\nseek for the murderer of his son, and publicly offered the reward of a\nbag of silver to any one who would show him the guilty man. The Gillie\nMore, hearing of the promised guerdon, boldly entered the presence of\nthe elder Kreshinish. Confessing that he himself had slain the youthful\nchieftain, he urged in self-defence the young man's overbearing conduct\nin attempting to carry off Shiel Torquil's stag-hounds and game.\n\nThe bereaved father, obliged by the stringent laws of Highland honour\nto fulfil his solemn promise, reluctantly bestowed the bag of silver on\nthe very man who had cut off his only child in the early bloom of\nmanhood. The Gillie More, however, haunted by remorse, and still\nfearing the avenger's footstep, entreated his master to accept the\nmoney and build therewith a retreat for them both.\n\nShiel Torquil granted his henchman's request. After some time spent in\nsearching for a suitable site, they at last selected the wild easterly\nshore of Raasay. Here were speedily raised the frowning walls of Castle\nBrochel. Secured from sudden attack by the inaccessible situation of\ntheir refuge, the Gillie More and his master lived in peace for many\nyears.\n\nTheir retired habits, and their dislike to intruders, coupled with this\nstrange tale of robbery and murder, caused the Castle, though\nnewly-built, to be regarded with no friendly eye. When they died, it\nwas left untenanted for a considerable time. Many reports were\ncirculated concerning the strange sights and sounds to be seen and\nheard at the eerie hour of twilight, or amid the silent watches of the\nnight, by the belated traveller who chanced to pass that way by sea or\nby land.\n\nAt the period of which we speak, Castle Brochel had however for some\ntime been inhabited by a being whose origin was partially shrouded in\nmystery, the gloomy Eudaemon, known as the \"Enchanter of the North.\"\n\nLong years ago, Valbiorn, the wild sea-king, persuaded the lovely\nBragela, Sorglan's fair-haired daughter, to fly with him from her home.\nTerrible was Sorglan's wrath when he discovered that his hereditary\nenemy had deprived him of his only child, and undying was his\nresentment. But filial disobedience brought its own punishment. Before\nvery long the restless Valbiorn was once more roaming alone on the high\nseas, spreading war and confusion in his wake.\n\nIt was next rumoured that the gentle Bragela, heart-broken and\ndeserted, had, with her little babe and an old and faithful attendant,\none-eyed Donald, taken up her abode in the lonely Castle Brochel. Here\nshe reared her son, within whose infant mind the powers of good and\nevil seemed to struggle with unwonted energy.\n\nUnceasing were the prayers that the loving mother offered up over her\nchild, for his strange nature caused her many tears. At times he would\nsit contented by her side, and fixing on her his large dark eyes,\nlisten attentively to her words of instruction and wisdom. Or wandering\nwith her, as soon as he could run alone, over the hills near at hand,\nhe learnt the names and properties of various medicinal herbs, and the\nhours when they should be gathered to render their use efficacious.\nWondrously effectual was the healing touch he inherited from his fair\nyoung mother and brought to light in future years.\n\nOn other days a mad spirit of wild wantonness seemed to possess the\nboy. He would destroy everything upon which he could lay his hand, or\ntear along recklessly over the rugged walls and dangerous precipices on\nwhich the Castle stood, where a single false step would have dashed him\nto pieces on the rocks beneath. If his mother tearfully besought him to\nreturn to her, he would burst into loud fits of laughter, and shriek\nuntil the very sea-birds flew affrighted from the spot.\n\nWhen these strange paroxysms seized him, Bragela found that nothing had\nthe least effect upon her wayward child save music. It was wholly by\naccident she first discovered the soothing charm of melody on his\nturbulent nature.\n\nOne day, after watching his wild antics till her very heart grew sick\nwithin her, she re-entered the hall wearied and discouraged. Gradually\nconsoling herself as she remembered how often the young rebel had come\ndown in safety from his perilous haunts, she drew to her the harp, her\nfather's gift in days of yore, which in all her wanderings she had\ncarried with her. Striking chord after chord on its well-worn strings,\nshe at length began to mingle her sweet voice with its thrilling tones.\nShe sang of her childhood's happy home, and her tenderly-loved father,\nof the still beloved though faithless Valbiorn, of the perils they had\ntogether undergone, of the blissful hours she had once enjoyed when the\nfierce warrior forgot everything save her gentle strains, and lay\nentranced at her feet drinking in every word, and whispering in ardent\ntones that \"her voice was as that of the angels in heaven.\"\n\nShe would have sung on of sorrow and forlorn solitude, but voice and\nheart alike failed her. Clasping her arms around her cold harp, the\nforsaken Bragela bowed her head on its shoulder and wept aloud.\n\nBut a little rough hand was laid upon her neck. \"Mother, mother,\"\nwhispered her boy; \"you must not weep, you are not forlorn or lonely,\nfor I am here to care for you, and to protect you.\"\n\nSurprised and touched, Bragela turned to look upon the child. The wild\nlight had died out of his eyes, and in its place shone through those\nbrilliant orbs the tender protecting instinct of his sex. He drew\ncloser to her, and pressing his little curly head on her soft bosom, he\nmurmured, \"I am sorry, mother dear; forgive me this time.\"\n\nPoor Bragela gladly folded the young truant to her heart. Henceforward\nshe derived unspeakable comfort from this new influence over his\nboisterous spirit. For his sake she cheerfully resumed the art she had\ndeemed laid aside for ever. When the wild fit again and again returned\nupon her boy, she would even carry her harp into the outer court. There\ninuring herself, with all a mother's courage, to behold without\nshuddering his maddest freaks, by her sweet singing and playing she\ngradually lured him to her side, and awakened his better self.\n\nThese happy days, however, could not continue for ever. Eudaemon's\nmother had gone through too many trials, and was of too tender a nature\nto endure such grief with impunity. There came a time when the gentle\nBragela laid down her wearied head to rest; her dim eye kindled not\nwith affection when her terrified boy bent over her, her cold hand for\nthe first time gave him no responsive caress. Her sorrows were over,\nbut loud and long were the lamentations of her child; thus left alone\nwith one poor old man and his faithful dog Luachan.\n\nAt dead of night strange lights and sounds arose about that rugged\ndwelling. Watchers at a distance beheld the lonely castle enveloped in\nfiery smoke. Amid the wreathing vapours a figure of unearthly\nproportions carried to the sea a white-robed form with long flowing\nhair. The repentant Valbiorn, too late to save, or even to hold\nconverse with his neglected Bragela, bore to his immortal home her\nprecious remains. There he was able by his magic skill to endow her\ninanimate body with the semblance of life. He mournfully placed the\nbeautiful image in the vaulted halls of Thuisto, where he could for\never gaze on the fatal beauty that had brought such misfortune on its\npossessor.\n\nValbiorn tried every art to persuade his son to accompany him; but\nbefore her death Bragela had warned her child of the cruel nature of\nthe sea-kings. She told him of her humble trust that notwithstanding\nher early disobedience (so heartily repented of), her soul might ascend\nto heaven, and though the still heathen Valbiorn could take her body,\nyet she felt her spirit would be safe with Him who gave it.\n\nShe explained to Eudaemon that if he came under his dread father's\ninfluence, the sea-king and his wild companions would strive their\nutmost to make him forget and neglect her careful instructions. She\nentreated him to be steadfast in his resistance to temptation,\nprophesying that eventually he might even have the great happiness of\nrescuing his father from the darkness of heathendom; if only he lived\non in faith and simplicity, serving his unseen but all-powerful Maker,\nstudying the books she left him, and endeavouring as best he might to\nhelp the poor ignorant Highlanders around.\n\nThe crafty Valbiorn finding all his endeavours powerless to persuade\nEudaemon to quit his abode of safety, resolved to destroy his\ndisobedient son and his refuge at the same time. But here the loving\nmother's foresight helped in the preservation of her child. Among the\nother treasures carried by the fugitive Bragela to Castle Brochel, were\nsome fowls of the famous breed first reared by the witch Fantunina,\nwhich by their watchfulness are able to protect their possessors from\nthe powers of evil.\n\nNight after night, therefore, when the emissaries of the baffled\nsea-king strove to destroy the Castle by fire, the magic cock, ever on\nthe alert, flapped his wings and loudly proclaimed the approach of\ndanger. Then Eudaemon arising from his lonely couch, wrestled in silent\nprayer until the first faint streaks of daylight in the eastern sky\nshowed him that night's dominion was over. Thus baulked of his prey,\nValbiorn withdrew in a terrible tempest to Thuisto, nor did his son\nagain hear of him for many and many a long day.\n\nA considerable period elapsed, during which Eudaemon grew apace in\nstature and in knowledge. He not only studied the many books of magic\nlore left to him, but he also learnt marvellous lessons from Nature\nherself. In his lonely isolation he had leisure to attend to what our\ncommon mother is ready to teach us all, would we but tarry awhile in\nour busy lives and hearken to her still small voice.\n\nSeparated by his birth and dwelling-place from mankind in general,\nEudaemon strove to benefit the few he could befriend. The island people,\nas a rule, rarely beheld him. But in sickness or trouble they ever\nturned (tremblingly, it is true) to the Castle gate, where they waited\nwhile the trusty Donald apprised his master of the presence of the\nsuppliants without.\n\nStrange cures were wrought by the simple remedies Eudaemon compounded\nfrom the various herbs and minerals his mother had shown to him, or\nwith which his studies had rendered him familiar. To seek these herbs\nat a propitious time, the youth issued from the Castle at dead of\nnight, with his faithful Luachan, and traversed the hills till break of\nday, when, wearied, and full of sleep, he often, on his return, passed\nthe daylight hours in repose.\n\nHe was, moreover, a keen and unerring marksman, swift and sure of foot,\nand of iron nerve. The shuddering Highlanders sometimes marked his\neager pursuit of the wild goats, which at that time abounded in the\nisland. Master and hound seemed alike dauntless and fearless in the\nchase, and whether from his early love of climbing, or from his mixed\ndescent, it is hard to say, but it is very certain that Eudaemon and his\ndog were often seen scrambling across the beetling crags that overhung\nthe sea, in places where no human foot has trodden before or since. He\nand Luachan also knew where the golden eagle built her eyrie. He even\ncaught and tamed a young nestling, which loved Castle Brochel as its\nhome, and would only feed from her master's hand. With Donald's\nassistance moreover he had constructed a rude boat, in which they went\nforth occasionally to seek a portion of their subsistence by fishing.\n\nPassionately fond of companionship, and denied that of his own fellows,\nEudaemon, by dint of long perseverance, collected around him a motley\nvariety of animals. Tame seals lived on the rocks below his dwelling.\nIn perfect security around and beneath the Castle walls roosted and\nnested a perfect colony of sea-birds. A little flock of goats amply\nsupplied the three inhabitants with milk; while conies, blue hares,\ndomestic fowls of various kinds, and last, but not least, serpents,\nfrom time immemorial the emblems of wisdom, throve and multiplied\nwithin the precincts or in close proximity to Eudaemon's home.\n\nIn those remote times, it is not surprising that old Donald, with his\nqueer, misshapen figure, and solitary glaring eye, his youthful master,\nso wise beyond his years, and even the poor collie Luachan, whose\nsagacity was far above the average, were one and all regarded with some\ndegree of superstitious mistrust.\n\nIt was said, that in the little turret chamber, highest in the Castle\nwall, from which at night streamed forth a ruddy ray of light, Eudaemon\nheld converse with visitants from another world, and that many a storm\nwas concocted and wafted abroad by their dark agency.\n\nWhile the young student strove anxiously to benefit the cases of\nsickness brought before him--sometimes, indeed, spending whole nights\nwrestling face to face with death, by the side of some poor peasant's\nbed--a few of the people were ungrateful enough to attribute his cures\nto magic art and to an unholy alliance with the powers of darkness.\nSome humble hearts, however, throbbed with responsive gratitude at the\nvery mention of his name; and there was one mother who, though the King\nof Terrors had proved too powerful for his adversary's skill, never\nforgot the tear of sorrow that fell from the young man's eye, as, after\nlong watching and many unavailing remedies, her bonnie bairn breathed\nout her innocent life in Eudaemon's arms.\n\nHis fame was gradually bruited abroad, and as years rolled on he became\nwidely known as \"the Enchanter of the North.\"\n\nFrom all the surrounding districts the inhabitants flocked in boats to\nseek his advice. Fishermen asked for charms, to ensure a successful\nsummer. Ere the sailors put to sea, they deemed themselves lucky if\nthey could secure one of Eudaemon's so-called \"amulets\" against\ndisaster. These were, in reality, small bags manufactured and sold (in\nprivate) by the one-eyed seneschal, whose master would have been sorely\ndispleased, had he discovered the chaffering trade driven in \"charms\"\nby the cunning old man, who thus rivalled Gehazi of ancient times!\n\nNow it chanced that about this time there dwelt on the Lowland Borders,\na King and Queen of Clutha, whose only daughter was afflicted with a\nterrible misfortune.\n\nThe Princess Miranda was beautiful as the day. Her parents, who had\nlong lived in the bonds of matrimony without possessing any children,\nfelt inexpressible joy as they welcomed their sweet little girl into\nthe world. Bells were rung and bonfires lighted upon all the hills on\neither side of the river Clutha, which ran through her father's\ndomains. Everything went on propitiously, until, in an hour of woe, it\nwas discovered that the infant Princess could not speak!\n\nThis dire and unexpected calamity threw the whole Court, and indeed the\nnation at large, into deep distress. All, both high and low, heartily\nsympathized with the grief-stricken parents. Philosophers, astrologers,\nphysicians, and wise women were each consulted in their turn; but all,\nalas! in vain. At last, in desperation, the unhappy parents even\noffered the hand and dowry of their daughter as a reward to any man who\nshould be fortunate enough to set her tongue at liberty.\n\nYears rolled on. The King and Queen were disappointed in their hope of\nother offspring. Their feelings became more and more bitter, as they\nreflected on the confusion that would inevitably arise, should they\ndie, and the dumb Miranda be called to the throne. They feared, with\nreason, that wicked men might take advantage of the Princess's helpless\ncondition, and wrest the crown and kingdom from her hands.\n\nAmbassadors from many surrounding countries were attracted by the\nbeauty of Miranda's portraits, carefully and widely disseminated by her\nprudent mother. One by one, however, these envoys disappeared, on\nfinding that the beautiful Princess, though possessed of every other\ncharm, was dumb.\n\nThe King and Queen, to soften as far as possible their child's\nmisfortune, gave orders that her play-mates and attendants were always\nto address her in writing. All at court were told to conceal from the\nPrincess as much as possible the difference between her own condition\nand that of the maidens around her.\n\nThe consequence of these ill-judged regulations was that the Court of\nClutha became almost as silent as the grave. Even musical\ninstruments--with the exception of the fife and the drum, necessary for\nmilitary and state occasions--were completely banished from the\nprecincts of the palace, to save the youthful Miranda from discovering\nwhat it was to be without a voice for singing or speaking.\n\nUnder these circumstances it is not to be wondered at that foreign\ncourtiers found King Murdoch's Court insufferably dull, especially as\nthe lovely Princess, herself a prey to melancholy, spent the greater\npart of her time amid the wild moors and glens surrounding her father's\ncastle, where at least she could uninterruptedly listen to the sounds\nof Nature. The sweet singing, or startled calls of the various birds,\nthe rippling and murmuring of the rushing waters, the ceaseless humming\nof the insects, the sighing of the wind among the leaves and branches\nof the trees--each and all she heard and learnt to love.\n\nAmong the ambassadors referred to there was one representing a Prince,\nwhose ardour could not be checked by the Princess's cruel misfortune.\n\nSome short time before the period of which we speak, the King and Queen\nof Clutha, accompanied by their daughter, paid a visit to the Queen's\nsister, a powerful Princess in Ireland.\n\nLeft early a widow, Queen Hildegonda had long since forgotten all the\nsofter charms of womanly nature. Forced, when hardly more than a girl\nherself, to protect her infant son, Prince Eochy, the heir to his\nfather's wide domains, from the continued assaults, not only of\nneighbouring chieftains, but also of rebellious and usurping subjects,\nshe had become a very amazon. By her wise and judicious regency, she\nhad secured a peaceful rule for her son. But when the time came for him\nto take his rightful place, the proud mother could not bring herself to\nresign the reins of power. Eochy, as effeminate and weak as his mother\nwas masculine and daring, willingly yielded to her the responsibilities\nof government, and passed his life in idle poetical dreams and\nfrivolous amusements.\n\nOn Miranda's appearance, however, the susceptible Prince, as might have\nbeen expected, was captivated by his fair cousin's matchless beauty. In\nvain the maiden's parents bestowed upon Eochy their own approval. In\nvain the enamoured youth besought his mother to favour his suit.\nHildegonda, inexorable and unyielding, declared that no dumb Queen\nshould ever reign in Cashel, and commanded her son to retire to a\ndistant province until his relatives had departed.\n\nMurdoch and his spouse lost no time in quitting with their daughter\nthese inhospitable shores. When they once more reached home, they were\nroused by Hildegonda's insulting behaviour to attempt still more\nearnestly to unravel the cruel mystery that bound the lips of their\nbeautiful daughter.\n\nIn the meantime the hapless Eochy utterly failed to make any deep\nimpression on his cousin's heart. He languished in all the misery of\nunrequited love, and continually breathed forth his lamentations in\nodes and poems such as this:--\n\n    \"What though I be King of the Emerald Isle,\n      And my Court in its Castle with beauty be bright,\n    To me it were brighter by far could the smile\n      Of the one I remember but gladden my sight.\n\n    \"Ah yes! I remember too faithfully yet\n      That evening and all its enchantment to me,\n    That silvery wreath I shall never forget,\n      That star-spangled Maiden from over the sea.\n\n    \"I had gazed on the snow-mantled vale as it lay\n      In the silence of morning all spotless and white,\n    And I wished that unchanged the fair prospect would stay\n      To delight me, no sunset, no evening, no night:\n\n    \"But the evening would come, and with evening a glow\n      So rosy and glorious and delicate shone,\n    Bright Phoebus, I vowed, must be wooing the snow,\n      And I envied the sweet bridal blush he had won.\n\n    \"I had gazed on the ocean so calm and serene,\n      The breezes seemed hushed to be watching her sleep:\n    I whispered, could mortal imagine a scene\n      More sweet than the peacefully slumbering deep?\n\n    \"But the sun shining forth, on a sudden there grew\n      Such a change, every ripple seemed laughing and glad,\n    Such a dazzling and glancing of golden and blue,\n      I wondered it e'er could seem slumbering or sad.\n\n    \"Sweet, when I had met thee the charms were united,\n      The snow of that morn of that evening the glow\n    On thy cheek and thy brow,--Oh, I would they were plighted\n      To me, as they were 'twixt the sun and the snow!\n\n    \"And the laughter of ocean I saw in thine eyes,\n      When a light from within had enkindled the flame,--\n    How I wished I knew what might be worthy the prize\n      Those fair joyous glances for ever to claim!\n\n    \"Let them boast that the daughters of Erin are bright,\n      Let them sing their wild songs to the maids of Kildare;\n    I'll sing, and I'll sing till they own I am right,\n      There's a maiden in Scotland, a maiden more fair!\"\n\nWhen Miranda received by special messengers these and other similar\neffusions from the love-sick Eochy, she conjured up before her mind's\neye the sandy locks, the unmeaning grey eyes, the ungraceful lounging\nfigure, and the good-natured but facile countenance of the effeminate\nyoung Prince. She smiled to herself as she contrasted him with the\nideal hero of her imagination, sprung from the well-remembered tales of\nthe dark impetuous sea-kings of the north.\n\nAbout this time the King and Queen heard of and resolved to consult the\noracle at Cumbrae for their afflicted daughter. They hoped to gain from\nthe shrine of the far-famed lion some insight into her dark destiny.\n\nAfter they had offered the richest gifts, and personally invoked its\nmysterious aid, the oracle returned the following enigmatical answer to\ntheir prayers, nor could the utmost entreaties gain from it any further\nexplanation:--\n\n    \"The Eagle that soared o'er Kyle Akin's swift strait,\n    Hath wooed and hath won the soft dove for his mate;\n    Affliction hath wearied affection to rest,\n    And cold is the heart in that mother's fond breast.\n\n    \"The strange freaks of fate in one web have entwined,\n    What the Eaglet and maiden alone can unbind;\n    By chequered adventure, and music's soft thrill,\n    The compass shall aid in deliverance from ill.\n    Arise and speed northward, the prophet hath spoken,\n    Miranda's long silence by love shall be broken.\"\n\nEnquiries were at once set on foot regarding the mysterious \"Eaglet\"\nmentioned by the oracle. It was discovered that a certain Enchanter of\nthe north named Eudaemon, was sometimes called \"the Tamer of the Golden\nEagle,\" and was indeed by some supposed to have been reared in an\neagle's nest. The hopes of the afflicted parents rose high as they\nlistened to the wondrous tales told of the great Enchanter's power.\n\nA gorgeous galley was forthwith prepared wherein the King and Queen\nwith their daughter embarked, taking with them but a slender retinue,\nfor it was rumoured that the wise man lived secluded from his fellows,\nand would not brook intrusion. A small flotilla to protect and watch\nover the royal vessel received orders to hover near, but on no account\nto come within sight of the wizard's castle, for fear of exciting his\ndispleasure.\n\nThe voyage was long and perilous. Autumn had already far advanced.\nEquinoctial gales lashed the western sea into swelling billows, so that\nafter struggling with difficulty up the stormy sounds of Mull and\nSleat, the galley containing the Princess and her parents, at length\nbecame separated from all her convoys and stranded on the western coast\nof Raasay. The King, Queen, and Princess barely escaped with their\nlives; their attendants also were saved, but the choice treasures\nintended to propitiate the Enchanter were carried by mermaidens as\nspoil to the palace of the sea gods.\n\nDrenched and perishing with cold, the unfortunate voyagers were rescued\nfrom the bleak shore, and hospitably entertained by the poor islanders,\nwho little imagined that in these storm-beaten mariners they beheld the\ngreat King Murdoch, the wise Queen Margaret, and the unfortunate\nPrincess Miranda.\n\nIt is true that the Queen, with that prudence and forethought which\noccasionally guided her smaller actions, had caused her chief dresser\nto sew their three second-best Crowns into a small package, which was\nstill attached to her belt and concealed by her dress, but with this\nexception (which seemed of little practical use), nothing remained to\nmark the exalted station of the royal wanderers.\n\nGreat, however, was their satisfaction to find that they were\nshipwrecked on the _very_ island where the Enchanter of the North\nhad his lonely abode. They made many enquiries concerning him, and\nheard that his actions were beneficent, and his cures almost certain.\nThey were, nevertheless, warned by the islanders that nothing more\nexcited his indignation than the presence of many people at his gate.\nHe had, indeed, been known to refuse aid altogether to their comrades,\nwho, from superstition or folly, had gone in numbers to beset the\nCastle entrance.\n\nIt was now therefore customary among these simple yet considerate\npeople, to convoy the suppliant within a short distance of Castle\nBrochel. They then remained waiting on the hill above, while their\nfellow descended and returned. So universal had this practice become,\nthat a small shieling was gradually thrown together stone upon stone by\nislanders waiting on different occasions for some friend below; exposed\nfor the time being to all the inclemency of that most variable climate.\n\nHere then the King and Queen waited while their beloved daughter\n(bearing with her the white and silver tablets by means of which she\nwas wont to communicate with others) was told to present herself at the\nwicket-gate of the Castle. She was moreover given money wherewith to\npropitiate the much-dreaded Donald--the stern one-eyed guardian of the\nEnchanter's abode.\n\nIt was one of those days in early November when the exquisite \"Indian\nsummer\" sometimes casts a perfect halo of beauty over the \"soft\"\nnorth-western atmosphere of Scotland. The little group paused on the\neminence immediately commanding the tall gaunt building below. In\nreality, the Castle top was above them; but to gain access to its\nportals, it was necessary to descend to a considerable depth, and then\nremount by a narrow cause-way to its frowning door.\n\nThe afternoon sun gilded the turrets with golden radiance, beyond\nslumbered the blue rippling waters, calm and treacherous, giving no\nsign of their cruel strength. Far in the distance like faint clouds,\nlay the curving outline of the Highland hills, tipped with snow, and\ndimly visible as they blushed pink in the parting rays of the monarch\nof day.\n\nThe last farewell spoken, and the afflicted child tenderly pressed to\nher parents' hearts; the gentle Miranda, with slow footstep, descended\nthe fateful path.\n\nIn the meantime Eudaemon, by his consultations with the stars (an art\npartly taught him by his mother, who had carried away for her child,\nwhen she escaped from Valbiorn's terrible dwelling, strange manuscripts\nof astrological and magic lore), had become aware of the impending\nvisit of a being whose fate was mysteriously connected with his own.\n\nHe was absorbed in abstruse calculations when Luachan, suddenly\npricking up his ears, and impatiently scratching at the door, gave\nnotice that some stranger approached the castle. On his master's\nunfastening the latch, the fleet animal made one bound, and disappeared\ndown the narrow staircase, while the magician heard old Donald's\nquerulous quavering tones raised high, as if to refuse admittance.\nQuick as thought Eudaemon sprang lightly after his dog, and entered the\nhall, where an astonishing sight greeted his bewildered eyes.\n\nA maiden of surpassing beauty had evidently made her way into the\nCastle when the seneschal was off his guard. She now stood irresolute\nin the centre of the apartment. Luachan, contrary to immemorial custom\n(for, as a rule, he was surly to strangers), gambolled around the\nbeautiful unknown with extravagant gestures of affectionate welcome,\nwhile the one-eyed Donald, shaking in his hoary wrath, poured forth an\nincomprehensible flood of Celtic indignation.\n\nEudaemon rushed forward, and signed to the old man to hold his peace,\nthen turning to his fair visitant, he gently asked her will. Miranda,\namazed to behold in the dreaded Enchanter no ancient, withered seer, no\nvenerable prophet, as she had anticipated, but the dark-haired ideal of\nher wild dreams about the sea kings of the north, remained rooted to\nthe spot, ashamed of her wilful intrusion and covered with burning\nblushes.\n\nEudaemon gazed, like one entranced, on his mysterious guest. Her long\ngolden tresses, and her exquisite beauty of feature and form, startled\nthe recluse of the rock. At first he almost imagined her to be of\nangelic extraction; but her unmistakeable confusion betrayed mortal\nbirth, and in bolder tones the Enchanter again requested her to make\nknown her wishes.\n\nThe Princess, seized with sudden terror, looked towards the door by\nwhich she had entered, but it was closed, and Donald stood before it,\nglaring at her angrily with his solitary orb. In her distress her hand\ninvoluntarily sought the tablets, where she now remembered that she\nherself had written the following explanatory lines, during her long\nand tedious journey from the south. With a bashful half-smile,\ntherefore, she unclasped the ivory pages from her side, and timidly\nhanded them to the Magician, who there beheld inscribed these lines.\n\n    \"Hearken mighty seer, Eudaemon,\n    Tamer of the golden Eagle,\n    Aquila the golden Eagle,\n    Hearken, merciful Eudaemon,\n    Measurer of the raging tempest,\n    Of the unseen raging tempest,\n    Hearken to a lowland maiden,\n    To the silent maid Miranda\n    To the sad Princess Miranda.\n\n    \"I am come from Clutha's waters,\n    From its distant tranquil waters,\n    Where through changing isles of sunshine,\n    Looms the ocean, where the west wind\n    Rustles through the matted foliage,\n    Or, with a delicious shiver,\n    Sweeps along the silver beeches.\n    I am come to sea-girt Raasay,\n    To the wave-washed island Raasay,\n    To the storm-swept, rugged Raasay,\n    I have braved Kintyre's wild headlands--\n    Braved its mountain-rising billows,\n    Braved dark Cory-Vreckan's whirlpool,\n    Braved the fortress of Artornish,\n    Braved the fabled Ardnamurchan,\n    Ship-engulfing Ardnamurchan,\n    Braved the blasts from Scuir-na-gillean,\n    But to plead with thee for succour,\n    Aid against the fell enchantment,\n    Terrible unknown enchantment,\n    Which hath bound my lips to silence--\n    Gloomy unresponsive silence.\n    Maidens' mouths were made for singing,\n    Song and laughter are their sunshine;\n    Cheering thus the world around them,\n    Wakening mirth with voice melodious.\n    Pity, then! oh, great Enchanter!\n    Pity the poor spell-bound Princess,\n    Silent, sorrowful, dumb maiden,\n    And with pity give assistance,\n    Read the tale she cannot tell thee,\n    Charm the woes no sighs can cure.\"\n\nEudaemon perused the tablets with eager attention more than once, then,\nturning a keen, piercing eye on Miranda, he exclaimed.\n\n\"Princess! I do not now hear of your misfortune for the first time. I\nknew that you and your parents were in search of me and of my castle.\nDuring my researches and observations I have discovered that the\nconjunction of stars at your birth left one unfavourable moment. This\nwas taken advantage of by Valbiorn to avenge upon your innocent lips a\ngrudge he owed to your father, having been, in days gone by, an\nunsuccessful suitor for your mother's hand.\n\n\"By much careful study of the heavens I have ascertained that the\nenchantment can only be dissolved by my aid and that under very\ndifficult conditions. Rest assured, however, that no effort on my part\nshall be wanting to set you free. But,\" continued Eudaemon, bending low\nbefore Miranda, \"will your parents consent to remain under my humble\nroof a while, since what we must go through together will take days, if\nnot weeks, to accomplish?\"\n\nThe Princess joyfully clasped her hands, and while tears of joy ran\ndown her fair cheeks at the prospect of deliverance, she inclined her\nhead over and over again, to intimate that her parents would thankfully\naccept Eudaemon's welcome invitation.\n\nThe Enchanter now offered his hand to Miranda, and while Luachan\ntestified his delight by bounding around them, led her through the\nCastle gate and accompanied her in search of the King and Queen. With\nall the unreasonableness of human nature, these potentates advancing to\nmeet them, half expected to hear their daughter already speaking. They\ngraciously accosted Eudaemon, however, and anxiously listened to his\nexplanations.\n\nIt was finally arranged that the Queen and her daughter, with their\nsolitary waiting-maid, (much to Donald's disgust), should be installed\nin a part of the Castle now never used, but where were still to be\nseen, when the doors were unlocked, the last traces of the gentle\nBragela's feminine occupations. The islanders cheerfully lent what aid\nthey could, and King Murdoch with his attendant was permanently fixed\nin the small shieling on the hill. It was impossible to accommodate him\nin the Castle, for though lofty, its proportions were narrow and\ncramped. Except to sleep therefore he very seldom left the precincts of\nEudaemon's dwelling.\n\nFor several days and nights the Enchanter shut himself up alone in his\nhigh turret, examining dusty old volumes, and reading the heavens, by\nthe aid of an instrument he himself had constructed. At the end of that\ntime he emerged from his solitary chamber, descending with eager rapid\nstep to join his guests at their evening meal. He bore under his arm a\nsmall box and a piece of board roughly marked in squares of two\ncolours. His dark features wore an expression of anxious excitement.\n\nNo sooner had the last traces of the repast been cleared away than\nEudaemon placed his board upon the table. Opening the box he then\ndisplayed to the Princess's delighted gaze a number of little men of\nvarious sizes and shapes. These were in fact neither more nor less than\na set of chessmen which he had laboriously carved in wood with his own\nhands, and stained in two different colours, having ascertained the\nmode of using them from the careful study of ancient manuscripts.\n\nLong before the Princess Miranda appeared in Raasay, Eudaemon had known\nand pondered over the mystic answer returned to her parents by the\nCumbrae oracle. He diligently sought among his mother's ancient volumes\nof magic lore for some solution of the phrase \"chequered adventure.\" At\nlength he came upon the description of the ancient game of chess\nillustrated by rough drawings.\n\nHis attention was at once arrested by discovering that this game must\nbe played upon a \"chequered\" board. After careful research he finally\nresolved to make the trial. It took him, however, a considerable time\nto fashion the various pieces from the old pictures he possessed.\n\nThe Princess, her countenance lit up with curiosity and interest, was\nsoon seated at the little table opposite the Enchanter. Several\nevenings were spent in teaching her the various moves of the different\npieces, and explaining to her the rules of the game.\n\nEudaemon was fully aware that only one hour during the twenty-four was\navailable for the purpose of disenchantment.\n\nSome evenings later the King and Queen, already grown somewhat sleepy,\nnodded drowsily in their chairs. The faithful Luachan lay between his\nmaster and the fair young guest, whose bright eyes gleamed with\nunwonted animation. Then the dark Enchanter arising from his seat\ntrimmed the torch above their heads, and prepared, at midnight, to play\nin earnest the mystic game, so fraught with meaning to the afflicted\nPrincess.\n\nMiranda sat in an old-fashioned chair of curiously carved wood. Her\nwhite dress and her fair tresses reflected the flickering light, thus\ngiving some brightness to the lofty hall, whose gloomy proportions were\nbut partially revealed by the blazing fire and the fitful glare of the\ntorch. The most profound silence reigned in the chamber, only broken by\nthe cheerful crackling of the firewood or an occasional snore from the\nslumbering King.\n\nFully instructed in the moves by Eudaemon during the previous nights,\nthe Princess and the Enchanter played an interesting game. He had cast\naside his long upper robe of black velvet and showed the tightly\nfitting red under-suit which set off his active form to greatest\nadvantage. He placed himself on a somewhat ricketty \"creepie,\" for the\nunwonted number of guests had used up all his available chairs. As he\nbent eagerly forward the ruddy light fell on his swarthy face, and his\nsmall closely cropped, though curly black head. His burning eyes fixed\nalternately on the game, and on his silent opponent, seemed to pierce\nthrough all they surveyed.\n\nThe hour wore on, they exchanged several pieces. Eudaemon then moving a\nbishop, placed his antagonist's king in \"check.\" He uttered the\nprophetic word. Miranda, thoroughly absorbed, took up her King, and was\nabout to place him within range of her enemy's Queen. The Enchanter\ngently motioned her hand aside, pointing to his own piece in\nexplanation.\n\nAt this moment Miranda broke into such silvery peals of laughter, that\nLuachan, affrighted, sprang barking from his resting place. Eudaemon in\nhis surprise and delight moved suddenly and upset the whole board\nincontinently on the floor, ruining the game. Queen Margaret starting\nup, rushed across the hall. She first held her child at arm's length as\nif to examine into and convince herself of her identity, then clasping\nher tightly to her heart, shed tears of gladness over her laughing\ndaughter. It was indeed evident that the \"chequered adventure\" had\nfulfilled its mission, and broken the first link in the silent\nMiranda's chain of enchantment.\n\nThe excited parents knew not how to express their feelings of\ngratitude, but listened in wondering astonishment to Miranda's ringing\npeals of laughter, as, enraptured with her newly gained accomplishment,\nshe danced round the hall, accompanied by Luachan, who vied with her in\ngambols of ecstatic joy. Eudaemon had never before beheld anything more\ngraceful than the young Princess appeared to him in all her unconscious\nbeauty of movement.\n\nInspired by a sudden desire to emulate and join in her mirthful steps,\nhe stretched forth his hand as she passed him; she swiftly caught it,\nand drew him merrily on; thus maid, master, and dog together paced a\nwild impromptu measure of delight.\n\nDonald, hastening in to ascertain the cause of this unusual commotion,\ngazed around, rubbed his solitary eye, and looked again and again.\nWhere was the gloomy Eudaemon, the dreaded Enchanter of the North? The\nyouth heretofore so staid and reserved now flushed and laughing,\npirouetted round the bewildered old man with the smiling maiden.\nTogether they clapped their hands at his amazement.\n\nBut now the Queen, with the dignity of manner that she well knew how to\nassume, bade her daughter remember who and what she was. Forgetting her\nlate gratitude to their benefactor, she swept haughtily from the\napartment, followed by her husband and her unwilling child. Miranda's\npleading eyes, however, gave Eudaemon the thanks he most cared to\nreceive, and entirely obliterated from his mind all thought of\nresentment against her uncertain parents. At the same time he\ndetermined to take no further steps until the King and Queen themselves\nagain spoke of their daughter's affliction.\n\nSeveral days elapsed. The character of the Castle was completely\nchanged. The hitherto hermit like Eudaemon felt impelled to try and\nelicit again those silvery peals of laughter that rang on his ear with\nsuch a curious thrill of pleasure. Nor was he unsuccessful in his\nefforts. Again and again the old walls re-echoed with the welcome\nsound. The Enchanter himself felt once more a boy as he played long\ngames of chess with Miranda, or pointed out to her his numerous pets\nand their diverse habits. The Princess, however, was admonished to keep\ncarefully within her mother's sight; she wast herefore unable to\nscramble with him as he wished among the wild hills and cliffs around.\n\nBut the time flew swiftly by, and at length one morning the King and\nQueen craved an audience of their young host. Laying aside all traces\nof their late assumption of majesty they humbly entreated him to strive\nto work out still farther their daughter's cure.\n\nEudaemon listened in silence, fixing on them his piercing dark eye,\nuntil they moved uneasily beneath his searching glance. \"I am esteemed\nworthy to aid in your child's disenchantment,\" he answered sternly,\n\"but am too much beneath her in your eyes to tread with her the mazy\nmeasures of the dance, or to join in her everyday pursuits.\"\n\nKing Murdoch and his wife eagerly disclaimed any idea of making so\nungenerous a return for his kindness. At length Eudaemon (who completely\nsaw through their shallow minds, and only spoke to obtain more freedom\nfor their daughter) promised to continue his lucubrations.\n\nThat evening for the first time since her death, he drew from a deep\nrecess the dust-covered harp that had once quivered in responsive\nmelody beneath the musical touch of his fair young mother. Miranda and\nthe Queen curiously examined the quaint instrument, and helped to\ndisentangle and divest it of its broken strings. Eudaemon, who had often\nstudied its mechanism, brought forth new strings he himself had\nmanufactured, and showed Miranda where and how they should be placed.\n\nSeveral evenings passed in putting the harp to rights, then the\nPrincess under Eudaemon's magical tuition strove to place aright upon it\nher slender fingers. Morning, noon, and night Miranda strove to play\nthe melodies that ever floated before her mind's eye as sung to her by\nEudaemon, who placed beside her scrolls, on which the words of the songs\nwere written out.\n\nOne of them ran thus:\n\n    Thou speak'st of to-morrow, yet seemest to sigh,\n    And something there gleams like a tear in thine eye,\n    But though the sweet days of our converse are o'er,\n    The friendship that binds us shall cease nevermore.\n\n    When music entrancing shall steal on thine ear,\n    And songs shall be sung thee thou lovest to hear,\n    Oh, may one wild note of my harp seem to thrill,\n    And recall to thee one who remembers thee still.\n\n    And ever amid the dark shadows of life,\n    When faint from the battle or weary with strife,\n    Ah! then shall arise like the sun through a shower,\n    The remembrance of all we have felt in this hour.\n\n    When moonlight around thee shall flood the pale sea,\n    May thoughts of the north come like visions to thee,\n    And remind thee of hours when we once used to stray,\n    By the ocean's dark verge at the close of the day.\n\n    Roll onwards, roll onwards, thou swift flowing Clyde,\n    Yet may our loved friends ne'er resemble thy tide,\n    But changeless and steadfast look back through long years,\n    To the parting that left us in silence and tears.\n\nThis song, which Eudaemon had himself composed, and set to an old tune,\nwas an especial favourite of Miranda's. She made the Enchanter sing it\nover again and again; though, strange to say, the master who taught her\nfair hands to stray over the harp, could not himself draw one sound\nfrom its capricious chords. The Princess, however, soon became enabled\nto accompany all his songs, every day she learnt some new, and to her\nmore entrancing, melody. For it will be remembered that her parents had\nhitherto, through mistaken affection, carefully kept all music from her\nknowledge.\n\nThe black and gold harp, which Eudaemon and Miranda had together tuned\nand restored, formed a beautiful contrast to the white flowing robes\nand the fair arms of the young Princess. Her long tresses bound only by\nthe pale blue snood of the Scottish maiden, waved around her. As she\nraised her eyes to watch every motion of Eudaemon's mouth, she gave one\nthe idea of an inspired being, from whose very finger-tips emanated the\nsoul of melody. Thus they often sat late into the night, drinking in\nsweet sounds, and poring together over poor Bragela's old manuscripts.\nMeanwhile Miranda's parents, closely guarding as they thought their\nprecious daughter, hardly suspected that, while engaged in finding a\ntongue, she might hopelessly lose her heart.\n\nAt last, one evening Eudaemon for the hundredth time sang again that\nverse beginning\n\n    When music entrancing shall steal on thine ear.\n\nJust as he reached the end, Miranda suddenly, as if by an irresistible\nimpulse, opened her lips. With wonderful pathos, and in a voice which\nseemed to the young man the sweetest that could sound on earth, she\nfinished the line:--\n\n    Recall to thee one who remembers thee still.\n\nAmazed at her own daring, and astonished by her unwonted power, the\nfair songstress started blushing from her seat. In an uncontrollable\nburst of emotion she rushed weeping from the chamber. Queen Margaret,\nunable to believe it was her dumb child's voice she had heard give\nutterance to such melodiously thrilling notes, rose also from her\nchair, and cast an eager inquiring glance upon Eudaemon. Himself\novercome with emotion, the Enchanter did not trust his voice to speak,\nbut merely bowed his head; then, filled with yearning sympathy for the\nstrangely-afflicted Princess, he opened the outer door of the hall, and\nhastily stepped forth on to the turreted court that overhung the shore.\n\nIt was a night of exquisite beauty--the water, calm as a mirror,\nstretched its dark amplitude between the solitary watcher and the far\nmainland of the Ross-shire hills. Orion, in all his resplendent\ngrandeur, sparkled before him, and seemed in silent majesty to rebuke\nthe feverish turbulence of the Enchanter's too human heart. High and\ncold above his head the silver crescent moon travelled dreamily across\nthe vaulted heaven, and, as if to remind Eudaemon of her presence, cast\nher glittering likeness into the deep ocean's embrace, far below his\nfeet. One by one, in gentle crashing cadence, the tiny wavelets broke\nbeneath the Castle wall.\n\nInsensibly soothed and quieted by nature's wondrous charm, the\nphilosopher leant his burning head upon his hands, and absently gazed\nseawards.\n\nSuddenly the casement above was thrown violently open, and Queen\nMargaret, in terror-stricken accents, besought his speedy aid.\n\nHe re-entered the hall. It was empty and desolate, the torch was\nextinguished, the fire flickered low upon the hearth. He heard a\nconfused murmur of voices, and recognised Luachan's muffled howl of\ndistress in the distance.\n\nFollowing the sounds, he hastened up the narrow stair, and found a\nsorrowful group at the door of the room set apart for the Queen and her\ndaughter. Pressing past Murdoch and Donald, and angrily motioning to\nLuachan to be silent, the Enchanter himself uttered a cry of anguish as\nhis eye fell upon Miranda's death-like form. Stretched upon the rude\nbed, with her dishevelled tresses tangled around her pale face, on\nwhich were still the traces of tears, the poor Princess looked as if\nshe had for ever closed her eyes to mortal scenes.\n\nOn Eudaemon's entrance, the unhappy mother rushed towards him,\nexclaiming, \"Save her, save her! restore our darling; all shall be as\nyou wish, if but you bring her back to life!\" A deep red flush mounted\nto the Enchanter's very temples as the Queen, fervently pressing his\nhand, whispered these words, fraught with so much meaning, into his\nwilling ear. But he needed no promised guerdon to urge him to his\nlabour of love.\n\nKneeling beside the low couch, he vainly chafed Miranda's ice-cold\nhands. He listened over her heart--not even the feeblest flutter\nrewarded his strained attention. He placed a tiny polished tablet over\nher parted lips; its surface remained clear and unsullied by mortal\nbreath. A sudden thought struck terror to his soul. He turned a keen\nglance on the mother's face; her eye fell before his; a guilty blush\nsuffused her cheek. \"You have forgotten my earnest charge,\" he cried,\n\"and now it may be too late to save your child.\"\n\nAt this moment the magic cock was heard through the open casement\ncrowing loudly in the castle yard. Eudaemon flew to the window and\nanxiously peered into the night. Right above his head, and\nthreateningly suspended directly over the Castle, was a meteor of\nunwonted size and brilliancy. He fell on his knees where he stood, and\nstretching forth his arms silently implored Heavenly protection against\nthe powers of evil. Again and again the ball of fire grew lurid and\nglowing, as though it were about to descend and bury them beneath\nburning ruins, but each time Chanticleer's warning voice sounded\ncheerfully near at hand, and at length the red globe, with a loud\nhissing noise, fell prone and harmless into the dark ocean depths.\n\nRelieved from the pressing danger without, Eudaemon now turned to the\nsorrow within.\n\nSince the appearance of the Royal wanderers upon the island, he had\nheld many private conversations with the Queen concerning her\ndaughter's disenchantment.\n\nThe anxious mother over and over again informed him that the dearest\nobject of their heart, in seeking to free their child from the spell\nwhich bound her, was that Miranda should be united in marriage with\nsome powerful monarch, who would aid her, in due time, to rule over her\nown somewhat troublous kingdom of Clutha.\n\nShe little knew that Eudaemon was intimately acquainted with their past\nhistory, nor did she suspect that he was aware of the vow made by\nherself and King Murdoch in bygone days. Wearied by vain endeavours to\naccomplish their daughter's disenchantment, they had then solemnly\nbound themselves by an oath to bestow Miranda's hand on the man who\nshould succeed in releasing her spell-bound voice.\n\nDuring the long years which had elapsed since Bragela's death,\nValbiorn's hard heart had gradually softened towards her only child. He\nknew of the promised reward. From afar he watched with keen suspicion\nthe movements of the King and Queen. He foresaw that Eudaemon would love\nMiranda, if fate brought them together. For his sake he resolved to\nhelp the Princess, but, at the same time, he determined that the gift\nof speech should only be restored to render her a more fitting bride\nfor his son.\n\nWhen, therefore, the young Enchanter retired to his turret chamber, he\noften held secret interviews with his dread father, and succeeded in\ngaining a pledge of assistance from Valbiorn. But Eudaemon feared that\nif his vindictive parent once suspected Queen Margaret's intentions, he\nwould not only refuse his aid altogether, but would become her\ndeadliest foe.\n\nBefore the King and Queen set sail for the Highlands, she had resolved\nthat their solemn oath should be buried in oblivion. She satisfied her\nconscience by lading their ship with precious gifts destined for the\npropitiation of the Enchanter.\n\nHad Eudaemon been the ancient prophet she thought he was, he would\nprobably have accepted golden rewards with delight. The treasures,\nhowever, never reached the island; they were engulfed in the stormy\nocean.\n\nAs soon as Miranda's mother saw Eudaemon, she perceived that his deep\ninterest in her fair daughter might be turned to good account. She\npersuaded her husband to leave the matter in her hands, priding herself\nupon her powers of negociation.\n\nFeeling instinctively the young man's innate delicacy of mind, the wily\nQueen took good care to enlist his sympathies for her afflicted child.\nAt the same time she continually alluded to Miranda's exalted station,\ntacitly ignoring the possibility of a suitor for her hand whose\npretensions were less than royal.\n\nEudaemon was wont to listen to her words with respectful courtesy,\nthough occasionally his skill in necromancy stood him but in poor\nstead, when his rebel heart sent a crimson glow over his dark features.\nStill he invariably replied in measured tones that his own desires\nperfectly coincided with those of the maiden's parents; that his chief\nwish was to promote the welfare and happiness of the young Princess,\nand to render her any assistance in his power.\n\nLatterly, however, during the long hours spent at chess, in rambling\nabout the Castle and its precincts, or in singing and playing over the\nharp, the good Queen's heart misgave her, and she took the somewhat\nbold step of directly warning her benefactor and host against engaging\nher daughter's affections.\n\nNotwithstanding his powers of self-control, Eudaemon had to pause a\nmoment and curb the hasty impulse of anger, ere he answered in low,\nhusky tones,\n\n\"Madam, for your child's sake, I have embarked upon the perilous\nundertaking of striving to free her from the well-woven spell which for\nnineteen long years has bound her lips to silence, and cast a blight\nover her young life.\n\n\"The Princess Miranda's happiness is at stake. I persevere, therefore,\nin my endeavours to aid her. Absorbed, however, in a struggle to the\ndeath with the dread powers of darkness, I have now little time to\nregard her in any other light but that of the ill-fated victim of\nenchantment. I will, nevertheless, warn you that your child is\ninnocence itself. Her spirit must inevitably be sorely tried during\ncoming events, and very little more might serve to unhinge her mind.\nTake heed, therefore, that you suffer no word of what has passed\nbetween us to reach her unsuspecting ears.\n\n\"I have no desire to interfere with the brilliant destiny you have\nmapped out for your daughter, or to tempt her to disobey her parents.\n\n\"But though you ignore the vow you took upon yourself in less hopeful\ndays, it is remembered by one who never forgets. Within and around this\nCastle exists an invisible agency; nor can what passes here be kept\nfrom the knowledge of a mightier power than mine.\n\n\"More I dare not say. I have no wish to stand before you as a\nsuppliant. For the present, I pray you only to remember that you are my\nhonoured guests, and that my time and my thoughts are alike devoted to\nyour service.\"\n\nAs he spoke, the excited and wounded Enchanter drew himself to his full\nheight. Indignant lightning flashed from his eyes, controlled passion\nvibrated in his voice.\n\nThe Queen, frightened and conscience-stricken, gazed bewildered upon\nEudaemon, as, with an abrupt reverence, he turned and quitted her\npresence. For many hours he disappeared from the neighbourhood of the\nCastle, and several days elapsed before he regained his wonted\nequanimity of bearing.\n\nOn this eventful night, therefore, the young Seer heard with mingled\nfeelings the terrified mother's significant words. But there was now no\ntime for further explanation. When the threatened attack from without\nhad been warded off, the Enchanter turned from the turret window and\nexclaimed, \"Away with you all; you must quit this chamber and leave me\nalone with the maiden and her mother, if it be not already too late to\nattempt to restore her ebbing life.\"\n\nThereupon he strode to the threshold, and assuming an air of majesty\nthey had never before remarked, he waved them in silence from the\napartment.\n\nNo sooner had they all quitted the room, than Eudaemon drew the bolt\nacross the door, and approaching the Queen, who hung weeping over her\nlifeless daughter, he thus sternly addressed her:--\n\n\"You have neglected my warning, and by your heedless words have\nawakened a fresh struggle in the breast of this sorely tried child.\nThere remains but one chance of recalling her gentle spirit from the\nValley of the Shadow of Death. But be assured, proud Queen, that\nthough, for the sake of the Princess herself, I now lay bare before you\nthe inmost secret of my heart; yet she shall never know, until she\nhears the truth from your lips, that for her alone that heart shall\nbeat through time and through eternity.\"\n\nSo saying, the young Enchanter drew near Miranda's prostrate form. He\nthrew himself on the floor beside her couch, and seizing her resistless\nhands, wildly pressed them in his own. Tenderly and reverently he\naddressed the insensible maiden in tones and words of fondest\nendearment. For long it seemed as though even the electric thrill of\nmortal love was powerless against the magic swoon into which the\nPrincess had fallen on hearing for the first time her mother's strange\naccusing words.\n\nAt last Eudaemon (who held her hand in his as he fervently prayed for\nher restoration to life) fancied he perceived a feeble movement. He\narose, and earnestly imprinting on his memory those features so sacred\nto him in their helpless repose, he retired to the window and there\ncontinued his prayer.\n\nMeanwhile Miranda, quivering back to consciousness, imagined she heard\na familiar voice addressing her in the wild tones of a passionate love\nhitherto unknown. A strange new pain shot into her innocent soul, and\nawoke her once more to play her part in this world's theatre.\n\nShe slowly opened her eyes, and looked around. By the light of the\nfeeble lamp she gradually became aware of Eudaemon's presence, as he\nknelt near the open casement, through which faintly glimmered the first\nsigns of approaching dawn. She stirred uneasily on her couch. The\nEnchanter arose from his answered prayer. Stepping across the chamber,\nhe opened the door to the impatient watchers without. Before Queen\nMargaret could recover from her astonishment, or could indeed realize\nthat her child was safe, Eudaemon was gone. He went out silently as the\nothers entered. Calling Luachan, he departed thence with his faithful\ndog, to seek amid the solitudes of nature that peace which at present\nwas denied him by his wildly throbbing bosom.\n\nMany days elapsed before the Princess, shaken and confused by all she\nhad gone through, again descended the stairs and approached once more\nthe fated harp. From the moment in which her feelings had found vent in\nsong, and escaping from the hall she had sought relief from tears in\nher lonely chamber, all seemed like a dream. Her mother's reproaches on\ndiscovering her strange agitation, her deep swoon, and the words she\nthought she had heard as she woke, each and all were regarded by her as\nthe creatures of her own too vivid imagination.\n\nQueen Margaret, already forgetting her renewed promises, and fondly\ncaressing her child, never recurred to the past. The Enchanter,\nentering as before with energy into all that concerned Miranda's\ninterests, looked and moved to the awe-struck eyes of the simple\nPrincess an exalted being, free from the weaknesses or restless\nanxieties of mortal love.\n\nMiranda's new power gave them all exquisite pleasure. She herself found\nrich stores of unimagined delight, as she poured forth her growing\naspirations in floods of song. Strange to say, it was in singing alone\nthat she gave utterance to her feelings. No spoken word as yet could\npass the enchanted barrier of her lips.\n\nA visible cloud sat upon Eudaemon's swarthy brow. He foresaw that\nMiranda's disenchantment could only be accomplished amid real dangers\nand difficulties, and his heart misgave him as he realized the faint\ntrust that could be placed in the ready promises of the Queen.\n\nDay after day elapsed without further adventure, no allusion was made\nto the remarkable words that had fallen from Miranda's mother when she\nwas overwhelmed by the immediate danger of her child.\n\nAt length, one evening, after Miranda had retired weary to her couch,\nthe young Seer set forth to her parents the only course to be pursued,\nif the Princess were ever to obtain the power of speech.\n\nHe explained to them that far away, in the mysterious halls of Thuisto,\nthere existed a wondrous compass, with which Miranda's fate was closely\nconnected. He told them, moreover, that with the aid of magic he could\nintroduce himself, the Princess, and her mother into the weird abode of\nthe sea-kings.\n\nBut to do this, and to escape in safety, silence and obedience were\nimperatively necessary. Before venturing on so serious a risk, he\ntherefore solemnly entreated the Queen sooner to rest content with the\npartial disenchantment of her daughter, and to quit in peace his lonely\nabode, than to enter lightly upon this grave adventure. For when once\nwithin the enchanted precincts of Thuisto, if they transgressed ever so\nslightly, the rules laid down for their observance, they would draw\ndown, not only upon himself--for which he little cared--but perchance\nupon Miranda, the fatal vengeance of the ever-watchful guardians of\nthose submarine palaces.\n\nAgain and again the eager mother promised, nay, even swore to obey his\nstrict injunctions, urging him to make the attempt. At last, with heavy\nforeboding, Eudaemon prepared to encounter the dangers of the coming\nexpedition.\n\nMiranda was told of the projected scheme. The Enchanter explained to\nher that in the submerged vaults of Thuisto she would probably first\nfind the use of her voice in speech. He warned her, however, that she\nmust endeavour to speak only when he bade her, and Queen Margaret was\nonce more pledged to maintain strict silence.\n\nThe eventful night arrived. The poor forsaken king and the disconsolate\ndog Luachan (too intelligent to move from the shore where his beloved\nmaster bade him remain and guard the stranger), together strained their\neyes from the wild beach below Castle Brochel, as the little boat\ncontaining the travellers became a faint speck on the starlit sea.\n\nEudaemon and the one-eyed Donald rowed their precious burden quickly on,\nuntil reaching a barren rock, the Enchanter sprang lightly on shore;\ncarefully handing out Queen Margaret and her daughter, he then bade the\nold man row home to the Castle and return again for them at day-break.\n\nHardly had the regular plash of Donald's retreating oars died away,\nbefore they became conscious that they were gradually sinking through\nthe ocean. The broad, flat surface on which they stood afforded them\nample footing, and though they heard, on either side, the swift rushing\nof the divided waters, not a drop touched them; not an oscillation\ndisturbed their balance, as, supported and cheered by Eudaemon's\nfriendly whispers, and fast clinging together, mother and daughter\ndescended through the sea to unknown regions, enveloped in a darkness\nthat might be felt.\n\nMindful of her plighted word, the Queen uttered no sound, but she bore\nvery heavily upon the young Enchanter's arm, keeping him in constant\nuneasiness. At length a blinding flash of light smote on their dazzled\neyes; the downward motion ceased, and the stone on which they stood\nsank to its resting-place with a loud clang.\n\nAs they became inured to the brightness, they beheld before, behind,\naround them on every side, as far as sight could reach, a vast\nlabyrinth of arched and pillared cloisters, stretching into\ninterminable distance, and lit by some mysteriously effulgent ray,\nwhich seemed to their bewildered gaze to proceed from the centre of a\nbroader aisle, at one extremity of which they themselves stood.\n\nEudaemon, motioning them to follow, trod slowly the echoing pavement,\nand advanced towards the distant focus of light.\n\nNow sounded forth music such as earthly ears have seldom heard. It was\nas if all the harmonies of water's various movements swelled into one\nindescribable wave of translucent melody, that penetrated soul and body\nwith its enervating power. Relaxed in every fibre by this weird\ninfluence, Eudaemon with difficulty urged forward his drooping comrades.\nPrepared, however, to resist to the utmost the charms of witchcraft, he\ndrew forth his magic horn, and its reviving fragrance quickly restored\nenergy to their unstrung frames.\n\nTheir interest also was freshly aroused by exquisite statues, which,\nalmost endued with life, and perfect in colouring, seemed to smile on\nthem from either side as they proceeded. They reached the circle whence\nemanated the diverging rays of light. Before them blazed a dazzling but\nempty throne. From its midst shone those awe-inspiring beams.\n\nEudaemon uttered a low cry. There, beauteous as he remembered her in his\nboyhood's early days, but with a calm expression of perfect peace she\nhad never worn during her child's lifetime, in a marble niche close\nbeside the vacant seat, stood the lovely Bragela. Her long golden\ntresses rippled over her shoulders, her flowing robes half showed, half\nconcealed her matchless shape, while her azure eyes, with their\nheavily-fringed lids, fell fixed and cold on the eager countenance of\nher son.\n\nA moment he paused, half expectant, dreaming that her loved spirit must\nawake and welcome him, but in that instant her last words flashed\nacross his mind. He realized that Valbiorn's skill had only thus been\nable to immortalize the fair, soulless clay. He remembered once more\nwhy he had sought that dread abode, and he noted that Bragela's\nbeautiful motionless hand pointed to a small amber pedestal, which at a\nfew paces distant seemed to glow with lambent flame.\n\nHe approached: upon its summit lay the object of his search, the magic\ncompass of the sea-kings, potent to work weal or woe. Turning to\nMiranda, he gently drew her forward, and placed the timid maiden over\nagainst himself on the southern side of the mystic pillar.\n\nThe whole of the magic compass quivered and shone with the appearance\nof red-hot metal, but Eudaemon whispered to the Princess that she must\nwith a firm hand raise the needle from its place, and, turning towards\nthe north, pronounce these words in an audible voice,\n\n    \"As points the faithful needle to the pole.\"\n\nMiranda stooped trembling over the flaming altar, but with gentle\ncourage she took the fiery needle in her hand; as she did so, she\nraised her eyes trustingly towards her guide, and moved a step nearer\nto him.\n\nHere in the enchanted palace of his fathers, surrounded by mysterious\ninfluences, and excited by the anticipated victory over Miranda's\nspell, the youth for once forgot his careful self-command. He also\nadvanced, and stretched out his eager hands to bound the needle's\nrange.\n\nIn a low musical tone the Princess pronounced the fateful words; ere\nshe finished, she leant insensibly forwards, and the needle almost\ntouched the Enchanter's breast. Overcome with mingled emotions,\nMiranda, while she spoke, swayed visibly to and fro, and as if to\nsupport her, Eudaemon's arms fell on either side of her tottering\nfigure.\n\nAt this moment the Queen, terribly discomposed, and forgetting in her\ndispleasure every solemn promise she had made, rushed forward, loudly\ncrying, \"Misguided girl!\" but ere she could continue her sentence, a\ntremendous peal of thunder shook the ground beneath their feet, and\nvibrated around them. An intensely lurid ray of light darted athwart\nthe heretofore empty throne. To Queen Margaret's unspeakable dread, she\nbeheld indistinctly amid the dazzling beams an awful form enthroned in\nfire. A rushing noise filled her ears, she became insensible, and as\nshe did so, she seemed to fall prone through interminable depths.\n\n                 *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt was long before she recovered her consciousness, but at last she was\naroused by the sound of sweet singing,\n\n    \"I would I were a little bird,\n      To build upon his breast,\n    Or if I were a nightingale,\n      To soothe my love to rest.\n    To gaze upon his tender eyes,\n      All my reward should be,\n    For I love, I love, I love my love,\n      Because my love loves me.\"\n\nOpening her eyes with a shiver at the wild pathos of these tones, the\nQueen, by the chill bright light of the December sun, beheld her\ndaughter, with Luachan beside her, seated on the beach of Raasay and\ntwining pieces of damp sea-weed into her long hair.\n\nQueen Margaret raised herself from the ground, and drew her hand across\nher brow. What had happened?\n\nShe herself lay on the grass close to the sea-shore; and near at hand\nCastle Brochel towered frowning into the morning sky. She called to her\ndaughter. Miranda heeded not.\n\nBut now the sound of oars was heard, one-eyed Donald roughly grated his\nboat on the shingle, and scrambling out, asked the Queen somewhat\ngruffly how she came there.\n\nConfused and distressed, she could give no satisfactory answer. Donald\nthen recounted to her how he had been rowing for hours round and round\nthe spot where they had landed the previous night, unable to discover\nany trace of the large flat rock on which they had disembarked. At last\nin despair he had returned to the Island.\n\nWhen he observed Miranda and her mother on the shore he expected also\nto see Eudaemon near at hand. Disappointed in this hope, he now\ncontinued, pointing inland with his long, skinny finger. \"I wadna say\nbut the maister is in the Castle itsel'.\"\n\nAt this moment, however, the Princess approached them, singing, sadly,\n\n    \"But should it please the pitying powers,\n      To call him to the sky,\n    I'll plead a guardian angel's charge,\n      Around my love to fly.\n    To guard him from all danger,\n      How happy I should be,\n    For I love, I love, I love my love,\n      Because my love loves me.\"\n\nAs she sang, Luachan uttered a melancholy howl. The perplexed seneschal\nlooked from one to another in silent amazement, then muttering to\nhimself, \"It's no unco canny for the beast to howl that gate,\" he\nhastened, as fast as his withered limbs would permit, up the steep\nascent to the Castle gate.\n\nMeantime the Queen gazed fixedly on her daughter. What strange\nalteration had taken place in her beloved child? Those gentle blue\neyes, wont to rest so placidly on all they surveyed, now restlessly\nturned from side to side, and never looked her straight in the face.\nHer busy fingers plucked nervously at the wet garlands she carried on\nher arms, and her lips moved ceaselessly, though no audible sound came\nfrom them.\n\n\"Miranda, my love,\" said the anxious mother, \"how came we hither?\" A\nlook of unutterable woe troubled the maiden's face. She drew from her\nbosom a golden needle, and holding it towards the north, she exclaimed,\n\n    \"As points the faithful needle to the pole.\"\n\nSwinging the long slimy sea-weeds around her, she then suddenly gave a\nshrill laugh, and rushed up the castle hill, followed by Luachan, whose\ndrooping ears and limp tail, seemed to the Queen's excited imagination\nprophetic of evil.\n\nStiff and sore in every limb from her unusual exposure, Queen Margaret\nraised herself from the ground and toiled slowly up the steep ascent.\n\nEre she reached the crest of the rocks upon which the Castle stood, the\nKing came forth to meet her. In a terrible voice he cried--\"What have\nyou done to our child, to my darling Miranda?\"\n\nThoroughly overcome with fatigue and misery, the poor Queen burst into\ntears, and Murdoch forgetting for the moment all save his wife's\nuncontrollable emotion, soothed her as best he could, and led her into\nthe Castle hall.\n\nHere she told her husband the strange events of the past night. She\nrelated their various adventures after Donald left them on the rock,\nand now, when too late, she bitterly lamented over her own hasty\ninterference, and her imprudent words. She described how she had only\ntime to perceive a being of noble and majestic mien seated on the\npreviously empty throne. As his eye fell upon her she became\nunconscious, and could remember nothing more until she found herself on\nthe beach at Raasay in the early morning.\n\nThe hours of this melancholy day wore slowly on, but no Eudaemon\nappeared. At last, towards evening, they forced open the door of his\nlittle turret chamber--it was empty. All his books and instruments were\ngone; everything belonging to him or his mother had disappeared from\nthe Castle. Even the harp itself, beside which so many pleasant\nevenings had been whiled away, was no longer there.\n\nThe only things left, and upon these Miranda flew with eagerness, were\nthe chess-board, the wooden men he had so patiently carved for her, and\nthe box to contain them. For long hours the poor child would sit as in\na dream, arranging and re-arranging the motley pieces, softly laughing\nto herself the while; for her mind was hopelessly gone.\n\nEudaemon had never wholly disclosed the fact that when they entered the\nenchanted precincts of Thuisto, any infringement of the rules\nprescribed must re-act upon himself. In his unselfish devotion, he\nimagined that if he alone fell a victim to the powerful sea-kings, his\nbeloved and her mother would be saved. Freed at last from enchantment,\nhe trusted that the Princess and her parents would then live on as\nhappily as if no forfeit had been paid for Miranda's deliverance.\n\nHe fathomed not the unchanging love that had of late struggled into\nexistence in the dreamy maiden's breast. In the terrible moment that by\nno fault of his own determined his fate, Eudaemon for once forgot his\ncareful self-control, and clasped Miranda to his heart. In his dread\nfather's presence he bade her a long farewell; he knew not that the\nsorrow of parting would overwhelm her gentle spirit, and break her\ntender heart.\n\nKing Murdoch and his wife took their daughter by slow stages to her\nnative country, hoping to benefit her by the change. But no following\nspring should ever re-kindle the roses in those waning cheeks--no\nmortal hand arrest the progress of decay. The faithful Luachan could\nnot be separated from her, he was her constant comfort and playmate.\n\nThere was a spot on the little Cumbrae where Miranda loved to sit and\ngaze across the Clyde's broad estuary to the blue hills of Arran.\nPerhaps their clear outline reminded her of the Cuchullins, as seen\nfrom Raasay. Perhaps being on an island, spoke to her of the halcyon\npast.\n\nBe that as it may, one day, towards evening, alarmed by her long\nabsence, the attendants sought and found her here, cold and motionless.\nOne arm was clasped around Luachan's neck, the other, faithful in\ndeath, still pointed the golden needle to \"the true and tender north.\"\n\nThey buried Miranda where she lay. On that far island you still may see\nthe lonely tomb, beneath which the weary one is at rest, and drop,\nperchance, a tear over her untimely fate.\n\nYes! They are united at last never more to part! Behold, in the regions\nof eternal peace, a youth divinely fair, a maiden serenely beautiful.\nTogether they bow before the Almighty Ruler they served on earth, and,\nas they cast their golden crowns at his feet, the tongue of the dumb\nsings sweetly, \"God is Love!\"\n\nCastle Brochel was never more inhabited. Donald, a sincere mourner for\nhis kind young master, could not bear to live by himself within its\nshadowy portals. He transferred what he needed to the shieling near at\nhand, and thence descending every day, kept all in readiness for the\nexpected return of the youth he loved so well.\n\nBut the old man watched in vain. He was gathered at last to his\nfathers. The lonely, neglected Castle fell into decay, and still,\nthrough following ages, the well-remembered Enchanter returned not, to\nawaken with his light springing footsteps the echoes of that deserted\nabode. Desolation and solitude spread their wings around its\ntime-honoured precincts, and cast a halo of their own over its\ncrumbling walls.\n\n    Break gently, ye wavelets, on Raasay's lone shore,\n    Eudaemon shall roam on your mountains no more.\n    As fragrance distilled by the cold air of night,\n    So Absence and Time shall bring forth to the light,\n    The deeds and the virtues of one without guile,\n    Whose genius and wisdom shed light o'er your isle.\n    Mourn wildly, ye seabirds!--all nature make moan!\n    His chamber is empty--his footsteps are gone.\n    He toiled unrewarded--no guerdon he sought,\n    As soothing relief to the weary he brought;\n    But the mother's soft tear, and the infant's glad cry,\n    The blessings of gratitude garnered on high,\n    Shall, e'en in his Home, 'mid the Regions of Light,\n    Add lustre untold to his coronal bright.\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n  LONDON\n  R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS,\n  BREAD STREET HILL.","title":"Baron Bruno; Or, The Unbelieving Philosopher, and Other Fairy Stories","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":53136}