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I /'reparation.) .ECTIONS OP IRENE y Mrs. Lmtu-Ai)aM8. 20 iaOTnF.IlS, New Twk. nail, rortfflji rrtpaid, U tnt fart ■uuptc/Un prie4, SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. BT V ANNA T. 8ADLIER. p- NE\,- YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUDLISIIERg, FRAXKLIN gQDARS. 1878. 7^ ^ '^mBmM^^m^s^msmA £,\^t> BBUnd Mcordlni to Act of Con«««, In the ye« 1W9, 1'T llAumi li liiioTimis, In iho Ofllc of the UbruUu. of Congr«.. .1 W«UI.mH«.. t 1^ ««, to tlw jrt« IW». hJ riiiius, SEVEN YEARS AND MAIli. CHAin'KU I. " Illm (U(l«t thou crndlo on the dizzy utoop Where romul his hoiul llio volley'd llKhlnlnsf* flang, And tlie Umd winds thiit round hl« pillow rung Woo'd the Btorn Infnnt to the nrmii of sleep ; Or on thy highest peak Sonted the foiirless boy, nnd bndo hlni hiok Where, far below, the wcather-bentcn nUd On the KUlf bottom of the ocean slrook." li. KiiiKE VVmiti. Tin? Island of Foula is tlio most noithor- ly of tliiit |,'r(nip fiimiliinly known us tlia ShetliindH. lt« bold, rocky shore stretclics out for Monio di«tiiiice into the sea, and rises to a groat height above the level of the wa- ter. The island is not an attractive spot ; far to the inland it is rugged and sandy, in- terspersed hero and there with spaiso clus- ters of iniinntniu-.aRh and elm and birch. The buildings are, for the most part, low TF 8 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIIl. aud rair.bliiiR. some of tbom ilating back for centuries. Many years a>;o tbo oldest was, however, a roauorial dwelling, inbabited by a family clainnng tbeir descent in tbe direct line fiom Ospak, the Viking, who married an Irish wife, and settled down in a nide abode, -"•bich had since been enlarged anavcd and despised liiiii ; hence, too, •was Eric's exceeding popularity gradually diminished by his close intimacy with so singular a being. These evenings by tho Udallor's fireside were bright spots in Ey- viud's existence ; Boinotimes they were spent in reading and stndyinj*, but just as often in listening to the old legends and quaint Norse lore, of which Eric's mother possessed nu inexhaustible fund. This mother was the embodiment of all Eric's ideas of tho good and beautiful ; from her he had inher- ited his passionate admiration for tho fair and lovely in nature, his love of tho ideal, and tho poetry and romance thai lay bo deep in his nature. As tho young men stood still a moment, gazing at the ocean darkened with fore- shadowings of the coming storm, Eric laid his hand kindly on Eyvind's shoulder. " Come home with me, Ey vind," he said ; "it will bo dismal enough at tho hut to- night." " Nay," said Eyviud, gloomily, " tho storm is coming on ; my mother will be bad ; I dare not leave her." " Then I must go," said Eric. " Keep np your heart ; and at dawt to-morrow, if tho *> } AND MAIB. SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. 15 tlio rudo fishermen, ised liiiu ; hence, too, poimlarity gra(Uiivlly )80 intimacy Mith bo leso oveuiiiKS ''y the 3 briglit spots in Ey- itimes thoy were spout iiijt, but just as often il legends and quaint iiic's motlior possessed 1. This mother was ,11 Eric's ideas of tho rem her ho had inher- Iniiration for tho fair his love of tho ideal, tnauco that lay so deep stood still a moment, 1 darkened with fore- iming storm, Eric laid yvind's shoulder. me, Eyvind," he said ; luough at tho hut to- 1, gloomily, " tho storm .her will be bad ; I daro ' said Eric. " Keep np lawii to-morrow, if tho *,} weather bo fair, wo will get out the boat, and try our luck at fishing. Good-night." " Good-night," answered Eyvind, turning again to tho shore, as Erie pursued his buoy- ant way homeward, and huunued a snatch of an old Norso song. Eyvind did not lin- ger long upon tho elitf. Slowly and thought- fully he went toward his homo, along tho rocks, foam-whitened, and beside tho angry sea. As ho approached. Hashes of lightning were already darting across tho hut, show- ing it distinctly through tho growing dark- ness. A gleam of firelight cunio out from tho open door. It was the only sign of com- fort or of a Innuau preseuco that tho place attbrded. As Eyvind entered, his mother was sitting on a low stool staring into tho fire, and muttering drearily to herself She took no notice of his entrance, and did not raise her head, till a violent gust of wind shook tho hut. Then, with a cry of terror, she sprang to her feet. " Lo vent," sho cried, " lo vent, lo tcmpfite! (^a mo fait pour, ?a mo fait pour!" Eyvind understood not a word, but he know that tho wind and tho sound of the waves disturbed her. " It is only tho wind," ho said, soothingly, " and the sea moaning among the rocks." 16 8BVBK YEARS AXD MAIH. She nislied over and peered into bis face ; then, iiimliing liiui uway with a loud laugh, sang, "Quelle est In chnrmc de In vie, C'est, rmnour, c'cet ramoiir, c'est ramour." Changing suddenly, sho sang, in a plaintive voice : " O belle riviere, O clmrmnnte nslle, O donee campanile, U ])ny!i trniuiiiille Loin dc voHP, O cher Loire ! Mil vie est." Sho ended with a low moan ; then re- sumed her seat, and relapsed into a gloomy silence. All at once sho rose, and throwing herself at Eyvind's feet, seemed as if implor- ing him. Sho spoko, rapidly and vehement- ly, in her native French ; she gesticulated violently; sho tore her hair; sho sobbed, till, as if in despair, she sank, moaning, on the floor. Meanwhile the storm had burst ; the wind shook the hut with such fury that it threat- ened to hurl it from tlie cliff; the sea dash- ed, howling, against tho rocks, and with a wild roar the waves rnslied back vanquish- ed, only to bo succeeded by other and more AXD MAin. peered into liig fnce ; y with a loud laugh, ! 1ft vie, [lour, c'eat I'amour." I sang, ill a plaiutivo lie, jiie, le Cher Loire ! ow moan ; then re- upsod into a gloomy B rose, and throwing , Boomed as if'iraplor- pidly and vehoment- !h; sho gesticulated r hair; she sohbed, 10 sank, moaning, on had burst; the wind li fury that it threot- a cliff; the sea dosh- 10 rocl<8, and with a slied back vaiiquish- 1 by other and more BBVEX YEAna AND MAIR. 17 powerful ones. Tlio lightning flashed its rod glare iuto the very centre of the hut, and was followed by peal on peal of vibrat- ing thunder. Toward midnight the storm abated, and as the elements grew calm, so, too, did tlie woman's troubled tlioughts. At Inst slio fell into a deep, quiet sloop, and Ey- viud, raining her gently, laid her upon tho couch. When he saw that her sleep was likely to hist, ho went to tho door, and looked out upon tlio night. Tlio clouds were dis- persed, and tho stars were peeping out hero and tliere, tlien hastily hiding under a cloud, as if still half afraid of the warriug eh'- ments. The waves, too, no longer stirred to madness by tho storm, beat against tho shore with a sullen murmur as of half-for- gotten resentment, and tho Wind had car- ried its clarion note of deiiauco far over tho main. P.yviud remained there only a mo- ment, and, chising the door, retired to rest. In Foula neither bolts nor bars wore re- quired; and had both been necessary on every other dwelling, no one would have dreamed of approaching tho deserted hut, or tho haunted cliff on which ii; stood. Ey- vind threw himself carelessly on his couch, with his great-coat only for covering. Tho bod was hard, tho pillow of straw, yet the 2 »4tt%lltf*J 18 SEVEN YEAnS AMD MAIR. nmonlrtcriiiK firo on tlio cartli wns soon cttstiiig its (lyiiiK lij;''* <»i !"*< Hli't'piiiK fiico; it iiiiulo glioBtly hIiikIows on tlii) wuU, too, iiiingling witli tlio li»liiii world around hi in. " My boy," said tlio mother, " it is n cheer- less evening. C'oiiio over to the hearth, and catch a littlo of this pleasant hoat. You must bo chilled." " If I were, inother," ho said, fondly, "there is warmth enough in your smilo to restore me." "That boy knows tho soft spot in tho feminine nature, and no mistake, good wife," said tho Udaller, chuckling over his joko; "ho is a born llattorer." "Tho wind is high to-niglit," said the mother, still smiling. "Did all tho boats como iiiT" " Yes, mother ; Ey vind's was tho last, and I am late because I waited to see it onch- ored." " You havo strange tastes, my son," said tho mother, more gravely; "and strangest of all is your fondness for that singular be- ing." " You do not object," said Eric, earnestly ; " I know you do not. My friendship is tho only ray of light in his dreary existouco." " I do not object," said tho mother, seri- • ..i&waiCmiaiiMiijuiaiii t iAW ' M ' i 90 SEVEN YEAnS AKD MAIB. ously " Yot, us I liavo often toM you, I liave ft i)n'm-i.tiii>(>nt Unit l.o will Im in wmn wftv t;omicct(Hl with your iift«r-lifu. '"' Dona thiM proHoiitiiiu'iit point to gooU or evil T" Hiiiil Eric, urivvcly. <'I cannot tell," Hiii.l slio; 'M>ui. lua very presence tills mo with a. vngno souse <»f u«- eiisinesH." , , Snppor Wfts cnlleil at the moment, and tJio U.lallcr renmikei), as ho roao with chocrlnl alacrity to obey the Humnions, " I must confess I am h,\m\ ; for what witli your talk of omens «n nimteaily ; but all only nia'l" lu«r an t anil toudorness in •e ot Bnppcr that llio have Hoon, with tho (jroatOHt fury; hut the jirayer wnn said ear- ly, and tlio liiiuscliold, wrapiKHl in profound Nliunber, bcciinio uncoiiHcioiix of itH rii);o, and likowiso niu'onscioiiH tliat toward iniilni;;1it tlio clouds liiid Hciittored, and tho ntonii- king withdrawn hii* thuiidcrouo logiouo. CHAPTER II. "A KAllant aiglit It was tn »eo Their diet sweep o'er tho ilnrk-bliie ten ; Kacli war-ship, wl'.h im Ihrcntciiliij' thront ordriigoii llerco or rnvenoiis hnitc, Cirlm-Kiipliig from 4[|» prow; Its wnlpii OllllcrlDif with biiriilBhed ehlelds like Bcnle« j lis crew of Udiil men of wnr, Whose snow-whito targota nhono nfiir." Saga vf Harold of llaar/itger. The dawn was very fair when Eric catno ont of tho liouso and walked rapidly toward tlio elift". Not a Hoiind broku in upon tho morning stilluess but tho inurniiir of tho uii- slinnbcring sea. A purpliBli nii.st had coino up from tho wator, and mingled with tlio lino of white light that parted tho Avestcrix Bky, telling tliat the full glory of tho Hunriso was at hand. Tlio air was clear and cool ; tho short grass damp with tho dew; tho • !A'-.u x »:" 22 SEVEN YEARS AND JIAIR. fisliing-boata lying it anchor out some dis- tance from the Bbore. At tlio foot of tbo cliflFEyvind ^Ya8 waiting- with tlio boat and flsbin<; -tackle, Eric leaped from point to point of tbe rock, and soou gained bis side. The air and exercise bad ;iven bim color; his bair was blowing about carelessly; bo resembled, in tbo llush of bis daring ycutb, a young Berserker setting foot on bis sea- ward-bound scow. The young men steered their boat toward tbe Fctlar shore, where tbo fishing was ex- cellent. Tnvy v.ero usually absent all day upon these expoditiona, and returned with strings offish gleaminjg(ind glistening with tbe phosphorescout colors that these creat- ures catch from their wateiy home. Eric often fancied, as be gazed intently at them, that their round, p.lassy eyes seemed to wear a wise, care-woru look, as if they bad strange secrets, found in the sea-deeps, and not to bo told to ears profane. Eyviud accompanied Eric homo that uight, leaving his mother well, and in one of her calmest moods. She had busied her- self putting tbe bouse to rights, and pre- pared some food, of which she herself par- took. Eyvind sometimes fancied that, had Ixe understood her foreign speech, she would >-D MAIR. SEVEN YKArg AND MAIR. 23 ichor out somo dis- Kt tlio foot of the witb tho boat aud .pod from poiut to ou gained Lis side, d ,'ivcii biin color; i)out carelessly; bo f bis daring ycutb, ug foot ou bis sea- (1 tbeir boat toward tbo fisbiiig -was cx- iilly n.bsect all day and retnrued witli ^nd glistening with rs that these creat- «itery homo. Eric ;d intently at them, eyes seemed to wear i if they bad strange deeps, aud not to bo L Erie liomo that er well, and in one Slie had busied her- to rights, and prc- ich she herself par- es fancied that, had ;n speech, she would have told him something of her former life ; at such times as this ho fancied there was a ray of intelligence on her face, but, alas ! he was a stranger to her, and her Ian jn ago was unintelligible to him. Ho used to think that when, during these intervals of calm, slie addressed liim, she seemed disappointed at his failing to uu.lerstand, and at last sunk into a silent, stony indiflerence from which she could not be aroused. Still it was al- ways safe to leave her alone a' such times, and ho accompanied Eric homo without tho slightest appreliensiou for her safety- After supper Eric gave Eyvind a bench before the lire, and stretched himself on tlio rug. His father and mother sat in their ac- customed places, and old Gunhild had her comfortable corner close to the hearth. " Motlier," said Eric, coaxingly, " it is long since yon have told us any of your Norso legends. Tell us Bome to-night, after our day of fatigue." The mother smiled. " You are always ready with a plea," she said, and he kuew she mcaut to graut'his request. " Tell ng tho story of Sigurd the Crusa- der," ho said, entroatingly — " ho that i'onght so bravely in tho Holy Wars. Eyvind has SEVEN YEAB8 AND MAIIt. iiever lieard it, and I but lia\f remember it." Tlio iiiotlicr stroked tbo boyisb head as Bbe began ber tale. " He was a man of migbt," sbo said, " and was always clad in blue, shining armor that dazzled bis foeracn's eyes. You know that when King Magnus died, bis three sons, Ey- stein, Olaf, and Sigurd, wore chosen to reigu over diflerent parts of the country. All this I have told you, however. Hut wlien Sigurd ■was fourteen years of age, the Skoptr Og- innndsBon came from beyond the setu and brought tidings of the strange countries and tlie strange sights be bad witnessed, and Sigurd's subjects called upon him to lead them thither, where they, too, miglit win ■wealth and glory. Four yeai-s from that time Sigurd went to England, and joined with William, tbo king of the English. When the long winter was over, tliey sot sail, and they took their course toward Val- land and Gailicia. When the Yule-tide was post, Sigurd fell in with the beatbon ; then he Would have been plundered and his ves- sels taken, but he fought bravely, t.nd gain- ed the victory. And when ho bad lauded in Spain, theii called Jacob'g Land, he took numy castles belonging to hie pugau foemen, ND MAIR. ut lia\f remember Le boj'isb head as ;lit," sbo said, " and sbiiiinjr armor tbat 8. Yuii know tbat bis three sons, Ey- oro chosea to reign B country. All this . But when Sigurd ge, the Skoptr Og- yond the sefu and "ango countries and liad witnessed, and upon him to lead ey, too, might win \v yeai-s from that ngland, and joined T of the English, was over, they set course toward Val- lu the Yule-tide was the heathen ; thou itdercd and his ves- t bravely, i«nd gain- hen ho bad lauded cob'9 Land, he took :o hie pugau foemen, SEVEN YEAnS AXD MAIR. 25 and, as he went through that and the ad- joiuing conntries, did battle eourageonsly against them. And us ho sailed, lie camo to the shores of Surkland, which is the country of the Moors, and there lived some of these tierce people in an immense cavern, where- in they kept all their jdunder. Within the cavern was a great wall, built by them as a fortification. So, when Sigurd and bis men had forced their way thus far, the heathen depended on the stone - wall for protection. But Sigurd caused his men to light a lire, and smoked them out of the cave, possessing himself of all their spoils. "As time went on, he reaclujd the kingdom of Sicily, where dwelt the brave and power- ful Duke Roger. This good ruler advanced to meet Sigurd, and entertained him right royally; so that when he was leaving he took the duke by the hand, and, leading him to the throne whereou he himself had sat, placed him thereupon, and declared he should be king for evermore in Sicily ; foriu those times a king could raise a duke to the throne, or a duke a marquis to a dukedom ; and Roger afterward was surnamed the Great. " In the snmpier-time, when warm, sonth- crn breezes, heavy with the odor of spices SEVEN YEARS AND MAIU. and the rich fragrance of tropical flowers, ^ete Wowing across the Greek Sea, Sigura raUed to Palestine. When Bildvvm, wlio was then king of Jerusalem, heard of his "°^S:;tiny people, that a great, ana micrhty king is coming from the North to visTt us. .Ho hath done many gallant deeds, and we must receive him well ; but we shall first discover his power and nmgn.hcence Bring forth your most gorgeons ^f ^raei ts, and cast them upon the road: .f he i.de over them, he is indeed a great king; but "f he turn aside, he keepcth not royal mag- "' "TurSignrd rode straight over the gar- ments, and told his foUowers to do the same ; and Baldwin was mightily imposed here- with. Then Sigurd abode w.th him till the eav^s were falling and the antnmn-trme had come Baldwin gave him relics, an* among them a splinter of the wood of the True Crow; he also made great banquets for him and for his followers. Together, the two kings took a town in Syria called Saet ; and tvhfu the spoils were divided, S.gurd made Rift of his to Baldwin. ® " Soon after, he sailed away m »9 silken- sailed galleys to the country of the Greeks. ND MAin. )f tropical flowcre, Greek Soa, Sigurd ben Baldwin, who talcm, heard of his e, that ft gvenfc and iiom the North to nany gallant deeds, » well ; but we shall • and niagnificouce. Torgeons vestments, i'o road: if ho ride . a great king; bnt peth not royal mag- raight over the gar- wers to do the same ; tily impressed thore- odo -with him till tho the antnmn-timo had lim relics, and among wood of tho True oat banquets for him Together, tho two yria called Saet ; and iivided, Sigurd made id away in his silkcn- ountry of the Greeks. SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. 27 And the emperor thereof ordered rich gar- ments and precious stuffs to bo laid in his way ; but tho Norsemen regarded them not. Sigurd bad his horso and tho horses of his men shod in gold; and one of tho shoes coming off in tho streets, tho people found it, and marvelled much. Harps and cym- bals were sounded before them, and minne- singers, preceding them, chanted triumphal strains. In the hall of state, the greatest niagnilicence was displayed. The emperor sent in purses of gold; bnt Sigurd, disdain- ing oven to glance at them, had them di- vided auioug tho people ; and tho minne- singers, returning, told the emperor, who marvelled, saying, " ' Eich, indeed, must he be.* "And ho sent chests and coffers of gold, bnt tho king gave them to his people ; and the emperor said, '"Either ho must far outrival all other kings in splendor and magnificence, or he hatli not the uuderstaudiug which kings should have.' "And he sent, a third time, tho costliest garments of purple and riugs and ornaments of gold ; and the king put the rings on his fingers, and thanked tho emperor in many beautiful words, but gave what ho had sent SEVEN YEAU8 AND MAIU. to his people. And the onipcror had tl.o games Jlayert in hin honor at tho Padreiu , which was a flat phiin surrounded by a h.gU stone-wall; ronnd the wall were earthen banks, where sat the spectators. Many an- cient mythological events were represented bv these games. , ., "Once King Sigurd had bidden the em- peror to a sumptuous feast, and no firewood wherewith to prepare the viands was to bo had in the town; so tho king ordered great quantities of walnuts to be brought, and these served for fuel. Then the Lrapress of the Greeks, who had occasioned the dearth of firewood to see what Signrd would do under such circumstances, said, "'Truly this is a magnificent king, wUo spares no expense where his honor is con- "^^wiien King Sigurd departed from Con- stantinople, he gave the emperor aU his ships and tho costly ornaments belonging thereto. Through many other countries did the king journey, and everywhere was he re- ceived with tho Neatest honor. At a«t ho returned to his own kingdom, w-lioro he was bailed with tho greatest joy by his people. "■ Ho was a glorious king, mother," crieU Eric ; " brave, and noble, and generous. ik. {D MAIR. orapcror litwl tlio r at tho Pmlreiut, ■rotuulod by a bigh vail were eartbeu itators. Many an- j were represented m\ bidden tbo em- at, and no firewood B viands was to bo king ordered great be brougbt, and lien tbo Empress of asioned tbe dearth ; Signrd would do 8, said, Tiiittcent king, who e bis honor is con- departed from Con- 10 emperor all his ruameuts belonging ' other countries did ery where was he re- b honor. At last ho gdoni, where he was i joy by his people." king, mother," cried B, and generous." SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. 20 "Glorious, indeed!" said his mother, half dreamily. 81m was lost in her visions of the past glories of her race. She sat half in shadow; but tlie red light from the hearth fell softly on her face, and brightened her dark gown. Eyviud did not speak, bnt his black eyes were fixed ui)on her with n strange, intense expression. His face had a look of curious exultation, as one who Shares in tbe triumph of some noble forefa- ther. Eric, too, was excited ; his eyes were sliiniiig in tbe light of the fire, his bead thrown b.ackward, his month slightly part- ed. The mother glanced at him fondly, caught tho strange look on Eyvind's face, ami woudend. Then she turned to her husband; bo was fast. asleep in bis chair, hi:-, pipe having fallen on his knee and cov- ered it with ashes. Slie was not surprised ; only sighed very faintly, and went on with her story ; "Many tales are told of him after his re- turn to his kingdom. Once, on a Friday, the steward sent to ask the king what should be served on the royal table, and the king answered, " ' What's best— flesh-meat.' "And the meat was served. As the king was in gloomy mood, none dared to sny him 90 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIK. IP'' % A nav, and the blessing was pronounced. Then Aslak Hane, who Lad journeyed over the seas with the king, iind, though of low lineage, stood high iu his favor, said to hini, " < What is it, sire, that Biaokcs on the Uisu before thee t' "And Sigurd answered, " ' What think'st thou is it t' " Then Aslak, answering, said, " ' I think it is flcsh-nicat, and I would it were not so.' "And the king said, "'Butifitbesor ., * i i .t„ " ' It would bo vexatious,' said Aslak, to know that a gallant king, who has gamed 80 much honor in the world, should so torgct hiin. Wlion you rose np out of the Jor«lan, sire, after bathing in the sanio water as Uod himself, with palm-leaves in your hands, and the cross upon your breast, it was something else you promised, sire, than to cat llcsh-meat on Friday. If a meaner man were to do it, he would merit a heavy punishment. 1 us royal hall is not so beset as it should be, when it falls upon me, a mean man, to chal- lenge such an t.' . , , T1 „„». "The king was silent; but he did not partake of the food, and shortly had it re- moved, and other food brought lu. The ^4-., IND MAIR> pronounccil. Then rueyedovor the seas ugh of low lineage, mill to him, t smokcH on the dish •1, I is it r iiig, said, nout, and I would it ions,' said Aslak, ' to ing, who has gained orld, should so forget ip out of the Jordan, 10 samo water as God ■OS in your hands, and last, it was something than to oat Ucsh-meat er man were to do it, y punishment. Thia esot as it should he, a mean man, to chal- ent; hut ho did not nd shortly had it ro- id brought iu. The SKVEN YEAH8 AXD MAIIl. 31 courtiers urged. Aslak to fly for fear of the king's vengeaiico ; hut ho niado answer, saying, 'That if ho died then, ho was well liropareJ, as ho had saved the king from Kin.' "And the king, calling him after, gave him throe farms, and told him it wiim hms tlian he deserved, seeing that he had saved him from a great crime." "Aslak was a hero, mother, was he uotT" said Eric, musingly, "even though ho was not a king nor an earl." " Ho was, indeed, my son," said the moth- er, " for ho had courage to combat oven his king rather than let liim do wrong. That is the truest kind of heroism — sacrificing one's own interest for the right. Kcniem- ber that, my boy, and let my words come buck to you when, ])erhap8, t lie lips that ut- tered them are cold." " I will remember, mother," said Eric, ear- nestly; "and perhaps some time the story of Aslak will teach mo what 1 ought to do." Such were the talcs the mother told him and his strango companion on many a win- ter night, within the shadow of the home- Itcarth. Snch, too, were the morals she usu- ally contrived to draw when tho eveuing's tulo was ended. 8ucli they were, and such 38 SEVEN YEAHS AND MAIR. thoy camo back to them wlion distance, and time, and tlio Rn-at bniadth of the ocean lay between tlit^m and tlio sweot-voicod woman who bad briglitened tlio winter iiiRbts by the lldnllei'H liieside. Krio and his friend grow to bo as familiar witli Odin and Thor, their belli«li rites and dark Baciilices, the joys of Valhalla, and the mystic celebration of Yiilo, as the children of other countries are with Mother Goose's Uliymes or the lore of Fairy-land. To them Magnns and llar- ald, Earl Nakon, or Sigurd of the Kavcn Banner, worked by his mother's hand, wero honsebold names; and oft between them- Belves they discnssod the hallowed life and acts of Olaf the Saint, bis efforts to estab- lish Christianity in Norway, and his fervent piety, which induced him to rise at dawn for mass and the singing of nmtins. Thus did these tales of the past incnlcato in them a love of what was great and good ; thus did they form their characters on pnro and exalted models. For Erie they had tho further advantage of falling from a mother's lips; she Wius the scald who poured fortli in lofty language tho sagas of eld, sagas which ■wore inscribed on Eric's young and pliable heart in characters far deeper and more in- delible than tho ancient Runic ones curved n ii "1 ti g o si tl t( d £ a w h V I t B: B fl O e t li 11 AND MAIR. SEVEN YEAItS AND MAIK. 33 n whon cliMtnnco, mid iiiltli of till) oceiui lay 8\veot-voico(l woman lio winter niglita 1»y Erie niitl liis friend witli Oiliu iiiidTlior, I lUirk HiiciilicoB, th« lio mystic colobratioii Ml "f otlior countrios I's Uliyinos or tho loro em Mu(;ii"8 and llar- ii>;urd of tho Kavon i motliei'H luvnd, wcro d oft between tliom- the hallowed life and t, his efTorts to oHtaU- jiwuy, and his fervent him to riHo at dawn ng of matins. H of tho post incnlcato t was great and good ; elr characters on pure For Eric they had tho falling from a mother's Id who ponred forth in gas of eld, sagas which ic'a young and pliable ir deeper and more in- ent Runic ones carved npon tho unyielding stones. There was nu inoflablo charm in tho legends thenwelvos, which was nmch enhuuccd by tho narrator's spooch and bearing; to her poetic nature they had a half-superstitious meaning; she was thrilled through and through with the glori<)3 of tho |iiiNt, and tho knightly doo it untiiiiii«lu'(l." " Hut, uiothnr," criiul Ki it!, " must I Htivy foroviTou thin ilcBoliUc iHJuiKl.Hluit off from tho Krcat, wido worhl— fioni fiiiuo, froui fort- nnc, froiu hopo f Ho'initinii-s voicBS Hceui to conio to luo from out tho di-op wftter«, call- iuK upon nio toiipliohl tlie shuy of our rnco, TluMt, uu)tlii!r, tlio bhiod of tlio viltinKs IcnpH iu uiy vt'iuH, iviul 1 loiiR to go uway from here nnil in Hw, through tho years to come, that tho blood in your veiuB is tho same puvj and untainted bhtod that has llowcd down tlirough » lino of chieftains. Live hero, hoiU)red and boh)ved by your peo- ple, on your fatliors Lave done for gencra- tiouH." "Tliat may como to pass, dear mother! cried Erie, iinpotuouHly, "but not until I have Been something of tho groat world, " What's tho boy at now !" cried tho lldal- ler, starting from his sleep. " Who talks of seeing tho world t What folly is this f " n HI K e h Bl tl I K h ) AXn MAIB. 8EVF..V YBAH8 AND MAIH. 35 you II If^iicy of hnn- itlUMliNlH'll." »l Kii(!, " must I Htuy Uliinil.Blnit oft' from -from fiiiiu), frimi fort- ititimi's voices hcciii to tho ill'!')) waters, cnll- Itlio ({lory ofoiir rnc«>. h1 of tilt) vikiiiKHli'dim 5 to go uway from licro », my boy ; lioro nmonK CO wlit^ro you cau mont ory, ami nuiuil tlio iii- icrn. You uro tlio pco- «'o, through tlio years )(l ill your veins is tlio lintetl blood tlmt luis 1 n lino of cliief tains. (I bolovoil by your peo- littvo dono for geuera- to pofis, dear mother !" sly, "but not until I i; of tlio great world, t now t" cried tlio Udal- sloop. " Who talks of iVhat folly is this T" Tliero was Hilcuce aiiioiif; tho group; the clock ticked loiiilly in llio rooni ; a cinder fell out upon the liearMi ; tlio room was nearly dark, and even their own llgures gceined weird and uiuouth, '' llless me, but you keep tho room gloomy, good wife !"Kald tho Udaller, novvoUMJy, tidg- titiiig alxHit for the liiigo miuaro of nilk that ho used for a liiiudkerchief. "And Krie," ho said, "if you have any roving notions, givo them up, and the sooner tho better. Whilo I live, you will never sot foot on tho stran- ger's soil, except it bo on ono of tho iii'igh- boriiig isles." Erio arose, and putting his hand nlFcc- tionatcly on his father's shoulder, said, "1 cannot promise to put the notion out of my lu'ad, but I will not vex you with it. And now good-night.'' "Uood-iiight," said the father, completely restored to good-humor; "you uro leaving us early." " I was up at dawn, and on tho water all day long," answered Eric, " and so shall sleep without rocking." "Good-night, my lady," said Eyvind, ad- dressing the mother. "Tho tuh-s you havo told us will haunt mo oven in my sleep." " You lovo tbcae old talcs, Ey viud," said 36 SEVEN TEABS AND MAIIS. tlio lady, kiudly ; yot even as she spoke to Lim she shuddered, her presentiment com- ing strong upon ber. "You must come ■whenever you can," she continued. "But bow is it you leave your poor deranged mother so much alone V "Ah, my lady," said Eyvind, half sadly, " she is better alone. My presence only stirs ber, for at times she thinks me other than I am, and talks to me in a foreign tongue, and iu a voice that makes me shudder." " Your mother is a foreigner, I know," said the lady ; " but to what country does she belong?" " To France, I think," said Eyvind ; " she speaks continually of the Loire, and that, I know, 13 a river of France. But, thank you, lady, for bidding rae come so often. I am lonely at the hut." Tlio lady was touched, and answered kind- ly, bidding him come as often as his moth- er's condition would permit. " Good-night, master," said Eyvind to the Udaller. " Good-night, my lad, good-night." Eric went with him to the door ; and as they stood a moment, they saw that the moon was lighting up the crags, and falling into the water in rare rifts of silver, form- al' H Mil i ! J ■1 1^ s mo MAIlt. en ns sho spoke to presentiment com- "You mnst como > continued. "But our poor deranged Eyvind, half sadly, J presence only stirs iks me other than I foreign tongue, and 5 fehuddcr." foi-cigncr, I know," what country does said Eyvind ; " she 10 Loire, and that, I se. But, thank you, me so often. I am and answered kind- I ofteu as his ntoth- mit. ' said Eyvind to the good-night." :o tho door; and as they saw that the ic crags, and falling rifts of silver, form- SEVEN YEARS AXD MAIR. 37 ing aerial barks in which spirits might glide about on their missions of light. Eric watch- ed his friend depart ; saw his footprints on the sand ; heard a night-bird shrieking aloft in tho birch-trees, felt tho soft quietude of tho evening air, and the peculiar, silvery mist in Avhich the moon had -wrapped tho earth. Eyvind pursued his lonely way across the moor and over tho crags to tho hat door. His mother was within, asleep in tho moonshine, her head resting on a chair, her troubled soul at peace. He laid her o!i the bed and went out. He seated himself ou an overhanging point of the rock, and there, till the moon had set, deep down in tlio purple caverns of the sea, he kept his lonely vigil, stiiTod by the romance of the past, far away iu tho blissful realms of his uncreated world of fancy, forgetful of his poverty, forgetful of the horrors of the lone- ly hut, forgetful even of the beautiful moon- shine — remembering only that he, too, was heir to the glories of the past, and free to enjoy their delights. Meantime the moon looked calmly down ou the waste of waters, looked down with that indescribable cftect produced by its light upon the sea. For, gazing upon it, the mind stretches out to immense tracts of ocean, silvered by its ra- 38 BEVKN YEARS AND MAIR. (liancc, where never a Luiiian soul cntnlics tbe bright reflection, where the roar of the waves, or the shrieking of the sea-birds alouo breaks in upon the silence. And it conjures np lingo wrecks, once pregnant with hunmn life, dark, dreary, and disman- tled ; or beholds, in fancy, dead, white faces drifting on through the silver haze, heedless of their destination. At times the imagina- tion goes still farther, flying thence to that other and shoreless sea — eternity — in whoso roar and thunder, whoso awful sights and sensations, whoso gloom and brightness, is lost all cognizance of earthly things. None of these considerations, however, en- tered into Eyvind's mind, absorbed as ho ■was in vain dreams of days and people for- ever departed from the world of the living. I ND MAIB. 6EVEN YEARS AND MAIU. 39 iiiiian soul cntcbcs jro tlio roar of tbe of tho sea-birds sileueo. And it ks, onco pregnant reary, and diBnian- :, dead, wbito faces ilvcr liaze, beedless times tbo imaginu- ing tbonco to tbat Dternity — in wlioso 1 awfnl sigbts and and brigbtness, is tbly tbings. .tions, bovrever, en- d, absorbed as bo lys and people for- orld of the living. CIIAPTEK III. "All. who CAU M\y, however fair his view, Through whal end ecenes his path may lie? Ah ! who can give to otlicr's woes his bigh, Secure his owu will never need it too. " Let thoughtless youth its seeming joys pursue, Soon will it learn to scan with thoughtful eye The Illusive past and dark futurity." H. KlUKE WUITE. TtiE nioutbs and tbo yiiars flew by with wonderful swiftness, and, like one running iu tbo gra-ss, tinto left few marks on tbo dwellers of tbat stormy ocean isle. Still tbo morns dawned bright and fair; still tbo eves fell darkening over tbo waters; still tlio sea-fogs rose as soft and pnrpli.sb ; still tbo many -tinted clotids formed palaces of light and shadow ; still tho waves lay cool and green, catching translncont colors from tbo amber snn tbat darted its fiery arrows into their shell-lined depths. Still tbo old homo of tho Udaller stood stern ivnd state- ly, bearing no perceptible trace of tho rest- less monarch's handiwork ; the crevices and ehiuk3,indecd, might have been to an observ- ■tSW*??a'!ww«"' 40 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIH. ing eyo more plentiful than in tho days gone by, the miUlow niiglit have left more stains, or tho creepers on the walls grown higher, and interwoven their tendrils more closely with tho stony heart of tho old building, but it still gave its sturdy detianco to time, as it had done through the generations of Norse- men who liad lived and died, and wooed and wedded within its walls, npon the sea-girt shore of tho Ultima Thiile. The Udaller himself was still halo and hearty, though, like his sturdy homo, the mildew of old ago may have shadowed, or the creeping growth of infirmity have twined its tendrils round his stanch old heart ; but he was still the hospitable host, tho generonS landlord, tho kind master, the genial friend of years before. But on his wife the foot- prints of the speeding years were more plain- ly visible ; her hair w is almost whitt), her eyes a little dimmed, lur step a little slower, than when we saw her tirst, ten years be- fore, at her own fireside. Eric, the boyish di-eamer of tho past, was tailor, broader in the shoulders, a little more siibduod, a little less impetuous. The boy was a man, but a man who still bore tho traces of bis boyhood about him. Still he was the idol of his peo- ple ; still he was the darling of his parents' lND maib. SEVBK YEAHS ANU MAIR. 41 an in tbo days gono vo left more stains, alls grow 11 higher, iidrils more closoly 10 old building, but fianco to time, as it iierations of Norse- led, and vooed and , upon the sea-girt n-as still halo and sturdy home, the have shadowed, or lirniity have twined nch old heart ; but > host, the generous p, the genial friend his wife the foot- rs were more plnin- alniost wliiti;, her step a little slower, tirst, ten years be- Eric, the boyish \ taller, broader in re siibdned, a little r was a man, but a icos of his boyhood the idol of his pee- ing of his parents' hearts. His mother, with maternal solici- tude, had chosen him a wife, one who dwelt in a neighboring island, a pretty, light-heart- ed girl, with u tiiio dowry and an even tem- per. Eric saw her occasionally, but was in no hurry to woo her; ho could wait; life was long, and youth was bright. Besides, his darliug wish was to get over tbo sea, and visiu foreign lands. Still, as the girl was by no means ill-disposed, and could Ecarcely conceal her delight when Eric canio to her father's house, or sho visited at the IJdaller's with her parents, tbo mother did not lose hope : and if circumstances had not interposed, her hopes were iu a fair way of being realized. One evening in early winter, Ingeride cnnio with her jjarents to take supper at the Udaller's hospitable board. Some other youths and maideus had conio to share iu tho merry-making, and, when supjior was over, to dance, lugerido was dressed 1q her most becoming costume ; she had a pret- ty, rosy face, a trim little figure, and a neat little foot. As was to be expected, Erie re- garded these attractions with a complacent eye, and IwjfOro the cfveniug was over bad almost made up his mind that a quiet homo life in Foula might, under certain circum- 42 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. stances, be tolorably happy. Acting on this belief, Eric devoted hiinst-lf to itbo girl, and to such an extent that the respective par- ents rejoiced exceedingly, and already began to hoar in anticipation the sound of Eric's wedding -bells. Farther off were the bells than they imagined — so far ofl', indeed, that scarce an echo could have reached their lis- tening ears. Eric had well-nigh decided to try his fate that night; and such was his boyish conceit that ho had little fear of failure. She blush- ed so prettily when he drew near ; she smiled so coquettishly ; she gave him such bewitch- ing glances out of her soft, dark eyes, that his heart beat high willi gratilied vanity, which ho readily mistook fi(r a wanner sen- timent. When the festivities were over, ho accompanied Ingeride and her parents a part of the way home. As the parents very naturally left the young people to them- selves, Eric was on tho point of putting his thouglits into words, and deciding his future fate, when, like a message from afar, he felt A breath of the salt sea - air. Tho message was heeded; it awoke in him the old longings to leave the island, the old de- sire to Avander, and the decisive words were left unsaid. Ho argued with himself that I EB! i kl«»»'' JND MAIR. )y. Aai>ii)g on to iw with his Bticlc [io assailants to the lio criuil, ns tlio oth- ill teach you to at- a blow at tlio head ;o bo tho leader of ileavored to defend ipt his coin|)anions as short and sharp, ire soon stretched I, in his deadly rage, lior two ill a similar )8ed. 8," ho said, " and sooner tlie bettor, tho wei)j;ht of my llonly obeyed ; but eir insensible com- •ned and said, with 80 fierce that even 18 for tho luomout BBVEN YEARS AND MAIH. 45 "Wo know you, Eric, sou of O^pak. Be- tween your race and ours has been bitter feud; but you'll rue this night's work, as you never rued work before." " Hraggurt and bully t" said Eiic, laughing scornfully, " I defy you and your cowardly crew." " May tho ravens have feast of yon, proud scorner! may tho fishes of the sea feed on your vitals !" cried the man, with deadly ma- ilgiiity. " Take care that this stick does not light upon your head," said Eric, laughing. But a chill crept over him, nevertheless, at the ghostliuess of tho scene, tho sinister mean- ing of tho man's face, his weird and awful threats; ntu-, when the men had glided out of sight behind tho rocks, did it reassure him to turn to his companion. Ey vind's face was livid; his eyos burning witii so intense an exiiression of anger and malignity that Eric almost feared he had lost his niiud ; his long black hair was wihl and dishovolled; blood was ooziug from a wound in his head ; his teeth were sot, his hands clenched. A sort of horror stole over Eric. This com- panion and friend of his daily life seemed changed into tho evil genius of tho scone. Mastering his feelings with an efllort, Erie 4G SEVEN YEARS AND MAIIl. laid Ihh liaiid anied liini. 0, tlie maniac was isido tlio embers. 1 excited lier. Sho azed long and ear- iitifnl; bnt lie's not "Come ont npon itli a wild shriek: uro.' i»r<;iierlto, I'eau pare.' oars and rushes in SEVEN YEAIIS AND MAIR. 47 my brain!" sho cried, in her native tongue. " It'a too stormy a night for tlio Loire." AHtonishniont and a sort of superstitions awo cair.e over Eric, lie had n(!ver soon tlie erazy woman except in her mildest moments. What strange fortune, lus thought, brought him into (dose companioiiHhip with beings HO wild and weird ns these! He glanced at Kyvind, and saw him sitting, ghastly pulo and motionless, upon a stool, his head rest- ing against the wall, and blood trickling slowly down his face. Eric, going over, ex- amined tho wound; as ho did so, the mn- iiiac raised her head, and, attracted by tho sight of blood, or by some assoeiatiou of ideas, rose furiously, aud rushed over to tho spot. " lUood !" sho cried, frantically ; " did yon kill him f Did you dye his golden hair dark with blood f Wack-hoarted stranger, did yon dare to kill him f Curses fall upon your head! Oh. my beautiful, my goldou-bair- ed — Cm. SOS ! curses! curses!" As sli(> spoke, sho raised herself to her full height, her dark face ghastly and distorted, till, exhausted by the frenzy, sho sankdowu npon tho floor. A moment after sho feebly raised her head, calling to Erie in a low, plaintive voice, fmvsKwhiJm 48 8EVRN YKAR8 AND MAIH. " C'efit ta Mnr«uorlto, qui t'alniu ! Vious, dour, (|iiVll roaclied home, ho ilncsH, and ehanging n the villnp> to Ihid nko caro of Eyvind is was no easy ni^t- village women de- BEVBK YEAnS AND MAIll. 49 clarcd that no iiowor on earth could indnco them to enter that accursed den. At lust ho found an old (iroiie, who was herself hold in doubtful roinite by the islanders, and who, niub'r proiiiiso of a lilieral reward, consoutod to take caro of Kyviiid. 8o far all was well; but ont of all this various rumors began to gain ground among tho peoide. The story of Krie's si range ap- pearaiuvi when seen at early dawn, tho blood- stains on his garments, and his confused and agitated expression of face, was baudiod about from mouth to mouth, gaining now features as it wont; to whicli tho old crouo in charge of Eyvind added tho further par- ticidars, that, whenever Eric made his ap- pearance at the hut, the maniuo became fu- rious, and invariably pointing to tho wound on her son's head with violent gesticulation, poured out what scorned to bo a torrent of abuse. So it began to bo whispered about that Eric had soiP^ht the ' ■ to of his singular com- pauion ; and various circumstances wero brought forward to prove that they had quarrelled, and that Eric had for a long time pondered Iiis scheme of vengeance. Some pitied tho handsome favorite, some censured him severely, but nearly all bo- 60 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. lieved the story. It was adduced, in sup- port of tho riinior, that a stranger who bad witnessed tho stvusgle between them bud appeared in tbo village, and given Ins ac- count of it with every detail. This was, in fact the case— one of tho men of tho caves, as they were called, having taken advantage of tho suspicions rife in tbo village to at- tain bis dastardly revenge. Meantime Evyind lay unconscious of ev- erything, and it was feared that reason won M never return to him. Ho raved in a wild delirium, and tossed about and moaned, con- sumed by a burning fever. Eric was un- wearied in his attendance upon him; but to the people this was only a proof ot bis remorse. For some time Eric bad no ink- ling of tho truth. lie observed that people greeted bim coldly, or did not greet him at all, and that sonio who still greeted him as of yore bad a look of reproach or sadness on their faca that be could not understand. He supposed that bis intimacy with Eyvind had produced its natural result, and did not allow himself to grieve over it. It never occurred to him that such a crime as the at- tempted murder of his friend could bo im- puted to him, and that by the very people who BO lately held bim as au idol. The lND MAIR. 18 adduced, in siip- i stranger who bad between tbem bud , and given his nc- Btail. This was, in e men of the cavea, ug taken advantage 1 the village to at- ge. unconscious of ev- ;d that reason would Ho raved in a wild ut and moaned, con- iver. Eric was uu- nco upon bim; but only a proof of bis lie Eric bad no iuk- ibservcd that people lid not greet bim at still greeted bim as reproach or sadness )uld not undei-stand. itimacy with Ey vind al result, and did not e over it. It never icb a crime as the at- , friend could bo im- t by the very people m as au idol. The SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. 51 tnitli camo to him like a lightning- flash. Then, full of passionate indignation, bnt too proud to give it vent, ho grew silent and taciturn, shunning even the faithful few who would still have met him with the old friendliness. This gave confirmation to the dark reports against him, and even his tni- cst friends began to shako their heads and say that only the haunting shadow of some great crime could have so changed bis sun- ny nature. Eric's mother wept in silence, and plainly declared that her dark forebod- ing had been too soon and too sadly realized. The fond parents bad another source of anxiety : the lawless buccaneers who dwelt in caves at the remotest corner of the island, and there carried on their wicked calling, bad been heard to utter ominous threats of vengeance .ipon Eric, for, in fostering tbo germ of suspicion and didtrust among Eric's neighbors, they had bnt begun their revenge. Gradually the Udaller and bis wife were forced co the sad conviction that the safest and wisest course would be to carry out their son's favorite scheme, and allow him to leave Fonla. They saw how the boy suf- fered, and the effects his suffering bad pro- duced, and their hearts were wrung. Hav- ing come to this conclusion, they determined I_! — W"^ 53 SEVEN YEAHS AND MAIR. to speak of it to Eric, mentally picturing bis joy aud gratitude. So, ouo ovouing, they sat by the liresido and waited for bis coming. The mother sat pale aud quiet, aud as tbo Udaller watched her attentively, ho thought be saw a tear fall on her dark gowu ; bis own eyes grew dini, for well ho knew that the shattered renniauts of a mother's day- dream had caused those tears. Ho could follow her thoughts back through the long years that she had scon bor boy the idol of bis people, aud had prophesied for him a fut- ure of love and honor beside the bearthstouo of bis fathers, when the two old people who sat there, lovingly making plans for him, would have stolen away, each in turn, to tbo church-yard aud to quiet graves, in the shadow of ancestral tombstones. At last they heard Eric's step at the door, beard it cross the threshold, aud presently saw bim enter the room. " It is a cheerless night," said his mother, making tbo same remark as once before, when all the world was bright to him. "It is indeed, mother," said Eric, wearily, " and I am glad to get home." " Does Ey vind continue the same f " asked the mother, anxiously. " The same," said Eric ; " there seems to bo ^■i^ SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. 53 :D MAIR. ;ally picturing Lis I eveuing, tbey sat il for Lis coming, quiet, and as the lively, LotLougLt r ilark gown; Lis roll Lo knew tbat f a raotlicr's day- tears. Ho could tbrongli tbo long or boy tbo idol of ssied for Lima fut- ile tbo Leartbstono ,vo old people who ig plans for him, , each in turn, to uiet graves, in the stones. 's step at the door, lold, and presently i," said Lis mother, k as once before, right to him. said Eric, wearily, me." B the same T" asked " there secras to bo no change from day to day, and I fear, poor fellow, he is doomed to share his mother'n fate." "And you, my poor boy !" said the mother, gently, " what is to become of you if he nev- er recovers bis reason f" "I do not know," said Eric, drearily; "I suppose I will drag out my life some way." "You shall not, my son," said tbo mother, warmly ; " your father and I have talked the matter over, and have decided to let you have yonr will and leave Foula for a few years." For one moment Eric's face brightened. Then he shook Ills head; he did not say, " Your kiiulnoss comes too late," bnt the look on bis face plainly expressed it. "I thank you both from my heart," ho said; "but it cannot be — just now, at lea«t. I can never leave Fonla with a tainted name. When my innocence is proved, and my name again above reproach, then — " He sighed, and did not fliiisV. " I once fondly dreamed," be began again, with a bitter laugh, " tbat, as an honorable gentleman, I stood where suspicion could not reach me ; yet they have dared to sus- pect me of a crime too base for the basest of them — a cowardly, loathsome deed." " Do not think of that, my boy," said the 54 SEV15N YEAB8 AND MAIH. luotlior. " Go awny till yon liavo recovered your health niul spirits. Your imiiio will bo cleared uoue the less certainly or speedily for yonr absence." " It is useless to talk of it, dear, kind moth- er," he said ; " I cannot go till I staud as I Btood before." " Perhaps you are right," said the mother, Bighing ; " it might be construed into a tacit ackuowledgnieut of guilt." " By my honor, ho is right !" said the Udal- ler, bringing down his fist on the arm of the chair. " An honest man will never run away when there is danger to bo met, or sorrow to 1)6 borne." " Thauk you, father," said Eric, quietly ; and then there was silence. After supper had been served, Eric went out, and, passing along the old familiar way over the crags, came to the hut. Eyvind's mother sat in her usual place, but neither spoke nor stirred when ho euteicd. The old crone from tlio village was keeping watch beside tlie coucli, wliero Eyvind seemed to he sleeping. Erie bent over him, and lis- tened to his breathing: it was gentle and regular, like that of a person in full health. The sleeper's face was painfnlly emaciated, his eyes sunken, his hair unkempt. Eric sat P' 1 mmam KD MAIK. r'ou liavo recovered Your iiiiino will bo •taiiily or speedily it, dear, kind motb- ^o till I Htaud aa I fc," said tlio inotbor, iistrued into a tacit btr'saidtboUdal- t on tlio arm of tbo vill never run away 10 met, or sorrow to said Eric, r[uietly; !e. I served, Eric went 10 old familiar way tbo Imt. Eyvind'a idace, but ueitber eute.cd. Tbo old vas keeping watch Eyvind seemed to over bim, and lis- it waa gentle and irson in full bealtb. aiiifiiUy emaciated, unkempt. Eric sat SEVEN YKATW AND MAIR. 55 down, and looked at bim long and intently; but when tbo crouo ottered to get a candle, be made a basty gesture of dissent, satisfied witb tbe imperfect ligbt of tbo tiro. Tliou tlio room was silent ; tbero was a faint, rest- less moaning of the sea witbout, a geiitlo plasbing of tbo waves against tbo rocks — for tbo tide was low — aud a sobbing sound of tbo wind among tbo rocks; but tbeso were familiar sounds to tbose wbo dwelt near t!io water, and tho bearers were scarcely con- scious of tbcni. How long bo bad sat tbero Eric could not precisely toll; but it seemed to bim abont midnigbt when bo saw a cbaugo on tbo sleeper's face. As be bent still nciuer, Ey- vind opened bis eyes, and, for tbo first time in many weeks, Ibere was a gleam of iiitolli- geiico in tbem. "Erie," said be, clearly and distinctly, though faintly, " wbero am I,ob! where am ir " You are at homo," answered Eric, sup- pressing all signs of bis own deep emotion. "At liomef" said Eyvind, while Eric lis- tened breathlessly ; "biitob! Ibavobeonso far away, and seen so many strange faces!" " But you aro at homo now, and Avith me," said Eric, soothingly. 56 8KVEN YEARS AND MAIR. "Why are you licroT And wliy ixni I in bed!" said Eyviiid, with tliat distinct utter- nuco BO often noticeable in jicoplo recovering from doliriniu. " You wore a little hurt," answered Eric. "Hnrt?" said he, woudorin^jly ; then he •was silent for several moments. " I remember now," ho said ; " fonr men at- tacked mo, and yon saved mo at the risk of yonr lifn. Tlien you bronght mo homo and dressed my wound, and — " ho closed his eyes wearily, but murmured, " oh yes, I remem- ber." Eric was inwardly raising hia heart in thanksgiving to God. The crone was all on tho alert; she had got a clue to the whole affair, and would hasten to spread it among the village gossips. Eric at last was fully justified, unless Eyvind relapsed into unconsciousness ; then his explanation of the matter might bo considered as tho con- fused wanderings of his delirious fancy. Eric remained with him till morning, and left him perfectly restored to conjoiousness. Then he rnshed home, and throw himself into his mother's arms in such a transport of joy that it alarmed her. "And now," he said, whon he had told his story, " I shall bo free to leave Foula — \ mmti rO MAIR. And why nin I in iiU distinct uttor- pooplo recovering " answered Eric. lorini;ly ; then he lonts. lid ; " fonr men at- nio at tlio risli of ght nio home and he closed his ieyes oh yes, I remem- sing his heart in he croiio wap all ;ot a cluo to the asten to spread it , Erie at last was 'ind relapsed into is explanation of idered as the cou- lirious fancy. Eric rniug, and left him jciousnesa. Then \v himself into his lusport of joy that Then he had told I to leave Foula — SEVKN YEAHS AND MAIR. 67 to leave it with only one regret, that of parting witli yon and my father. " Ho spolve with snt'li a stern joy, wholly iipart from llie boyish ]tleiisiire wherewith hu wonld oneo have hailed his approaching departure, tlmt the mother's heart was trou- bled. She saw that the d-^T) springs of his nature had been jarred bj the cruel wrong and injustice done him; aird s'.uj know, with a mother's instinct, that his old, frank trust- fulness could return no more. The news soon spread through the village, and exaggerated accounts were rife of Eric's bravo delenso of his friend. Tlie villagers, so lately cold and distrustful toward him, Hew to tlie opposite extreme, lie was placed on a higher pedestal than over before, and raised to a greater height in popular esti- mation. Ho received their adulation with a proud coldness, which told how deeply their injurious suspicions had touched his sensitive heart. From that time forth he had but one desire — to leave the island, and tind himself far from the tickle and ungrate- ful islanders. So, as dawn succeeded night, and eve tiio brightness of the noonday ; as the high tides, with turbulent roar, followed the deceitful calm of the ebb, his prepara- tions for departure were being completed; n 58 SEVEN YEARS AND MAin. and at Inst tlio dny cnmo. Out upon tlio greoii waters lay the vessel that was to boar Eric away ; on tlio slioro stood an eager crowd to bid liini godspeed. Ho was paler than usual, but his manner was cahn and composed. Ho listened to tho good wishes of the people with an indilVeronee that show- ed plainly how littlo ho prized them ; yet ho spoke courteously to each and all. Only to one or two among tho number did his fare- well grow warm, his eyes misty, and his hand -shako cordial. Eyvind had stolen out, still wan and feeble; ho parted from his friend and comrade in an agouy of pas- sionate grief. "Only for your mother," said Eric, "wo two should never have parted. As it is, if ever you are free, I will send for you. Will you como, Eyvind t" "As Heaven is witness," said Eyvind, sol- emnly, "oven if it bo to tho ends of tho earth." It was time for Erie to ascend tho vessel's side. He turned to liis father and mother. They showed their gentle blood and ancient descent, as they stood, sorrowful and digni- fied, tinged with the gloom that was to fall on the ancestral home of tho Udallers when tbo heir of their race was gone. Eric wrung h ii 1 I'i o 1» V y tl SI SI y t ii s a a a II h h li 'iD MAIR. 0. Out upon tlio il tliat wfts to boar o Btood an eager n\. IIo wiiH paler ler was calm and o tlio good \vinlu's I'eronce Unit sliow- 'izod them ; yet ho and nil. Only to mlier did his lare- eH misty, and h'm yvind Inid stolen ; lie i)artcd from an agony of pas- •," said Eric, " wo irted. As it is, if nd for yon. Will ' said Eyvind,8ol- tho ends of tUo iscend tlio vessel's ithcr and mother, blood and ancient I'owfnl and digni- n that was to fall ho Udallors when jouo. Eric wrung SEVEN YEAltS A>'D MAIR. HflBM 50 his father's hand, looked long and lovingly into his face, then tnrned to his mother. The keenness of her grief was visible on her face, bnt she would not weep nor give any outward sign of emotion in presence of tbo )>eoplo. "Mother," said Eric, lu n low, distinct voice, meant only for her cur, " I promise you never to snlly our name by any unwor- thy action. I will bring it back as un- stained as it goes." "Ood be with yon, scni of my heart!"' sho said, softly bnt solemnly. " Ood bo with yon now and forever !" She held him in her arms for a moment; then hu mount(Hl the vessel's side, swing- ing himself up like a practised seaman, and stood upon the deck, handsome and graceful as a prineo. IIo looked nrouiul him, saying a. nuito Vttle to the scones of his boyhood and the people ho had once regarded as his own true vassals; then he fixed his eyes on his mother's face tenderly and sadly, as if in her was concentrated all that had been the happiness of his twenty- live years of life. Some one touched him on thu arm, and, turning, ho saw Eyvind. " My poor friend," said ho, " I thought my partings were all over." 60 aSVEN YICARS AND HAIR. For only niiswcr Eyvind let liis liond fall on LiH Irifiid's sIiouldiT iind Hobhed aloud. IJiit tlio ('leaking of roix-H, tho pulling of tlio anchor, iiud tho diawiiig iiwuy of tlio giing- wny, warned hiiu not to linger. With one wiirra presHuro of tho hand, ICyviiid rimlied to tho vossel'K sido. Tho gangway hod been ronioved. Ho boiiudcd over tlio railing, Hwiing himself down, and touelied tho ithoro just as tho vesHel moved. A wail arose from tho people ; tho mother clawped her hands as, iitraiiiing and ereaking, tho uliip reluctant- ly moved tho lirst pace or two on its way. Eric's oycs were (ixed upon his niothor, hers upon him, till their faces grow in MAin. Itcrsi'rkor and Vi- lli liiul lung Hincu 1 Fonla liail boKUii anil one ovt'iiiii};, ) wiiH inon tally ur- ild fiillow, anil till) iin lii.H lioiiicwai'il liitmli'il liiiii. III) It WMH t'i'oni IlJH in;jo tiiliii^s. Till) lyhif; MoninwliiTo nninulcatloii witli itanccs liail pi von 10 Fii'nch villafjo il lii'lr of a nolilo jnsly iliuappuareil . most opportnnp- I'atli Home [lapern to ' ivo sonio coii- 3n Jyvind's neck ; two iniuiaturca, i niotlior, taken in fH ; the other of a no-oywl, probably worn and wasted 1 wero taken two ring, the other of imm nVBN YEARS AND MAIR. 63 enrions worknianNliip, bearinft tlio iitst ofc iMHi){nia of ii noblo Iioiiho. Kiic'h mother went on to nay that thrro waH littlo donbfc att to Kyvind'H Idiintlty, and tliat hu would bo proved hiir to tlio iwlate. In conchmiou, hIio deitlari'd that hi) made it a Hjiecial ro- ipiest, by till? memory of their loiij; IVieud- Mhip, that Kric would neeonipany him iu unetit of lilt) expeeted inheritunee; that ho would wait at I'onla for an answer, and, If favorable, would join Eric at any appointed place. " So fato has settled the question of my RoinK home," soliloquized Eric as ho rose to relight his ei>;ar, for iu his cxeitemeiit ho had allowed it to k'» ""t- As ho piifled away at it, ho continued to rellect on his fiieiid's sinniilar f;ood - fortune ; and as ho resolved, without a nionient.'s hesitation, to grant his request, ho congratulated himself on his knowledge of French, which languago ho spoko with tlio greatest lluency. That very night ho wrote to Eyviiid, declaring himself most willing to accompany him wherever the promised inheritance might lead him. The mcotlng-placo agreed upon was Cal- ais, that city of the past, with its crowd of Uiatorical associatious, its quaint, old- time mmimmmmmm rt 64 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIK. streets, toncbed -with too perceptible tokens of decay, and its low-lying, saiuly skirt of liills. The meeting between tlie frieuds was quiet ; no enthusiasm, no outward dem- oustiatiou, ouly a deep, licait-felt cordiality. After the flist greetings, they sat down and studied each other, auxious to see if time and absence had made any changes. Ey vind, gazing intently at bis friend, saw the sinu- ous ease and suppleness of movement gained in the hardy sports of boyhood, joined now to a graceful elegance, owing to his years of travel. He observed in his manner an almost entire absence of the old boyish im- petuosity, and in its place a calm self-reli- ance not easily disturbed. The traces of his boyhood that had hung around him dur- ing his early manhood had disappeared, but the old charm was replaced by a more po- tent one. He had been a boy who easily won tiie love of others ; he was a man who gain- ed, in addition, their confidence and respect. At times Eyvind could see the air of com- mand unconsciously asserting it self through the veil of courteous self-coutrol, and giving to his manner a slight haughtiness; but, in general, the young ruler of the people, the idol of the fishermen, was a polished, self- contained, travelled man of the world. lu lND mair. SKVEX YEARS AKD MAIR. 65 perceptible tokens iiig, saudy skirt of tweeu the friends n,no outward dem- icart-felt cordiality, they sat down aud 10U8 to see if time y changes. Ey vind, lend, saw the sinii- •f movement gained oyhood, joined now iwing to his years L in his manner an ' the old boyish ini- ice a calm self-roli- sd. The traces of ug around him dur- ad disappeared, but aced by a more po- boy who easily won as a man who gaiu- fldence and respect, see the air of com- jrting itself through -coutrol, and giving laughtiness ; but, iu r of the people, the •as a polished, self- \ of the world. Iu appearance, however, ho was very little changed ; his hair was not a shade darker — the same bright yellow that the sun used to turn to gold on the beach at Foula. His complexion was somewhat fairer: it had once been tanned almost to swarthiness ; it was now a warm, clear olive. The expres- sion of the ffieo was less scornful, and more thoughtful ; less contemptuous, aud more gentle. Eric was meanwhile observing his friend ■with no less attentive eyes, and as the result of the scrutiny, ho saw a man shorter by a head than himself, broader built, and more powerful ; the face, naturally swarthy, tan- ned by exposure ; the eyes and hair of a vivid black ; the general appearance as un- chauged as if they had parted yesterday. Certainly, the heir-expectant to a noble es- tate was not handsome. Eric admitted this, yet his face was not uninteresting. It had, though, a certaiu gloom and wcirdness, or perhaps Eric fitucied so, thiuking of his strange and mournful past. While this scrutiny was being conducted on either side, they did not sit silently gaz- ing at each other ; they talked on commcui- place subjects, and Eyvind gave Erie the trivial gossip of the island. The details of 5 i ''-4lt 66 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. liome, tho mention of lialf-forgotten places ami people, fell upon Eric's ear liko frag- ments of an old fiiniiliar lay. Ho listened entranced, interrupting the speaker only now and then with a question, till at last they drifted on to tho important subject that had brought them together. "One night," said Eyvind, " I was sitting out upon tho rocks, watching tho tides. It was a dark night, and tiiero was no other light than that from the fire in tho hut. Strange fancies canio into my mind, and I thought I heard voices coming, too, from tho hut. I rose and went in. I saw my mother sitting by the fire, her head resting on a chair as I had left her. I thought she was asleep, and would have gone out again, but I heard her give a deep sigh. I went over and touched her. She opened her eyes and looked at me, but said nothing. I raised her, and placed her on tho bed. She began to murmur to herself, and spoke of tho Loire. Then she tried to sing, in a very feeble voice, a verso of some old French ballad she had often sung before. Her voice grew fainter and fainter. At tho last words of the song, It died away completely. I listened, but sho said no more. I bent over her. She was dead. Her troubled mind was quiet at last." hi ti Ci lu w ai Pi la bi m tl b( in Bt m St & la m tl i ND MAIR. If-forgotteu places ■ic'n ear liUo frag- lay. He listened tlio speaker only jestioii, till at last important subject )jj;otlier. inil, " I was sittinR Ling the tides. It hero was no other le lire in the hnt. to my mind, and I coining, too, from ent in. I saw my ■0, her head resting ler. I thought she ive gone out again, ileep sigh. I wont >lie opened her eyes d nothing. I raised 10 bed. She began 1 spoko of the Loire. a very feeble voice, nch ballad she had voice grew fainter ; words of the song, I listened, but she 3ver her. She was d was quiet at last." ■nwii SEVEN YEARS AND JIAIR. 67 "Poor soul!" said Eric, softly; "her oiio bright memory pursued her to the end. I trust, indeed, she has gone to a country calmer, brighter, more beautiful than the land beside the I-ioiro she loved so dearly." "May sho rest in peace!" said Eyvind ; "hers was a sorrowful life, lint after she was buried, wo saw that in certain papers and articles found were pretty conclusive proofs of my claim to :i French estate. The lawyer had communicated with ine before, but tho proofs were wanting. Now I think my claim cau be made good." "I trust so," said Eric. "But where is the estate in (pieslion f" Tliey both paused; for the clock in the belfry tower, in a neighboring square, struck midnight, and they waited till its solemn strokes had ceased. Then Eyvind answered, "Tho estate lies in Touraine. Tho fami- ly are of Scottish descent, but fled from their native country in troublous times, and for services rendered in various wars received grants from the kings of France." "So jou are a Franco -Scot," said Eric, langhing; "and what, is to bo your name, most potent seigneur f" "Douglas," answered Eyvind. "My fa- ther was Kobert Douglas, and my mother i mmmmm 68 SEVEN TEABS AND HAIR. Marjorio, or, na sUo was called iu France, Marguerite Stewart." "Two of the noblest names of Scotland," said Eric. " Why, this makes the matter still more interesting: Scottish settlers on French soil, and of the race of good Lord James, who bore away the royal heart of the Bruce."* It was near morning when the friends Bcparated : they had so much to tell each oIIrt; such recollections to go back upon; such plans for the future to discuss. Tho hours flew unnoticed ; and even when, smil- ing at their forgetful ncss, they bade each other good-night, neither felt like sleeping, and Avonld willingly have prolouged their vigil for hours to come. Next morning, Eyvind showed Eric the documents found after his mother's death. They were yellow with age, and flecked here and there with dark spots of mildew ; but though Eyvind could not understand them, as they were drawn up in French, and their contents bewildered Eric, they concluded that they might be of groat weight iu tho lawyer's opinio)), and resolved to let him have them as soon as possible. Eyvind • Branches of both theje families did renlly BOtllc Iu Touraliie, acquiring great dlsti action there. tl II Ci o S( 1' c: n n ji i) e y b A lND mair. called ia France, inmes of Scotland," kkos the matter still li settlers on French >d Lord James, who •t of the Brnce."* when the friends much to tell each i to go back upon ; •o to discuss. The id oven when, sniil- 8», they bade each L- felt like sleeping, ,ve prolonged their 1 showed Eric the his mother's death, ge, and flecked hero ots of mildew; but t understand then), n French, and their •ic, they concluded freat weight in the esolved to let him possible. Eyvind amines did really eotllc liBtinction there. HUH SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. 69 then brought out the locket, heavy and massive, but tarnished a little by time. It uoutainod two portraits. The lirst was that of a mau young, and fair, and comely ; the second, a pale, dark woman, with large, ex- pressive eyes. "How strongly you resemble your moth- er!" said Eric; " that is, as she looks iu this miniature. She must have altered very much. I should never have recognized her." " The resemblance will be a strong proof in my favor," said Eyviud ; " but look at the initials: M. S. and R. D. I think that lock- et alone v/ould establish my claim." "If it can be proved how it came into you"^ possession," said Eric ; " but the resem- bla.ice is an undeniable point in your favor. And now show me the ring. I presume this is the Douglas crest," ho said, examining it ; " it is most curiously wrought, and bears the motto of their house." "The same initials are iu that," said Ey- vind ; " it was evidently a lovc-tokeu to my poor mother from her betrothed, afterward her husband." The wedding-ring, which Eric next exam- ined, was a thin, slender hoop of gold, a good deal worn and tarnished. Eyviud had tak- en it from the wasted marriage-finger of his mjg)l i ii , i ,» pi ij ' M u mi tl^ m ;i j| j:l);f- 70 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIll. (leail inotlun's hand. ■\V1umi Eyviiul liad Bhowii liis fiiciul (ill these rclicH of tho past, Hacrcd now iii their nssociatioii with the ]iai)less dead, links with a bright past which had availed heruothiii}?, they together wrote a letter to tho lawyer in charge of tho Dong- las estate, asking what further steps were to 1)0 taken in tho matter, and ofl'ering to give him such proofs as lay in their possession. Tiio lawyer Avas in his dingy office, sur- rounded by parchments and documents con- taining nnmy a strange history, -svlieu the letter was handed him that threw a strong light ou Avhat had beeu a mystery for twenty years. Meantime, Eric and his friend busied themselves in seeing the lew sights that Calais still afforded; wended their way through its old-fashioned streets, entered its Cathedral, and stood enraptured before the altar-piece, which was from the hand of Vandyke. They gazed in awe ou its rich and sombre tints, thrown into relief by the mediojval ,;looni of tho church, and by the warm glow from tho painted cathedral win- dows. The friends thoroughly enjoyed tlio days spent in tho old town by tho sea, and among tho traces of that historic past iu which Cal- 1'' tl fi Hi t( a tl h tl a fi tl o c D MAIK. li(Mi Eyvinil lind relics of tlio past, iciatiou -with tlio bright past which icy together wroto large ofthoDou,?;- thcr steps were to (1 olloriiis to give I their possession, dingy otTice, sur- 1(1 documents cou- history, -when tlio lit threw a strong iiystery for twenty lis fiiond busied J few sights that ended their way id streets, entered enraptured before i from the hand of u awe on its rich into relief by the ihurch, and by the ited cathedral win- 8EVEX YKAHS AND MAIR. 71 ais had borne so strange and prominent n jiart. Many times afterward they recalled their brief soJiHuu there with the liveliest emotions of pleasure. At last, however, they received an answer from the lawyer, lie advised them to come straight to Touraino, and formally lay claim to the estate. U^i declared him.self willing, and even anxious, to examine the jnoofa in their possession, and expressed a, sincoro liope that Eyvind might be proved heir to the estate, which was now in possession of a lady, and would ov Jiitually pass out of the family. Tims encouraged, they determined to lose no time in reaching Touraino, and at once began their preparations for departure, cheered by the prosiiect of success. f enjoyed the days the sea, and among past iu which Cal- I 73 SRVEN YEAnS AMD HAIB. CIIArTER V. "Time's restless wlicol niiDtlicr turn linth made ; Another scene In life U now (linpliiyod ; The curtniii Tell nud rose, and lo ! v/hi\t change ! • •««•«• And, one by ouo, new actors tlirouj; the etngc." St. B. UitowN. TnE ovoning was cold, and gray, and raw, when the two young men found themselves ill a little village of Toiiriiine, near one of those towns so famous in the chronicles of the past, so unimportant in the history of to- day. After they hail left the Grande Chaus- s6e, their way lay over a rugged and nnlevel road, that seemed to oxhaunt the hist linger- ing energies of the lean jiost - horses. Our travollei"8, weary and worn, joyfully alighted at the door of a little inn, which, according to the rude, painted sign swinging ".bovetho jiorch, was known as the " Inn of the Vino." It was a low, broad ediiice, with sturdy walls, and A large, overhanging roof, thickly cov- ered with thatch, from the midst of which appeared the windows of the upper story. The young nir i were nshered into what seemed to be a great hall or sitting-room. Th< lica lint ap.'i wh Ilia celt a SI ofi HO mil lire (!OU the wvi ski wit Ian lire bar ) sea the poi the iihi it I ure the li HAIB. 8KVKN YEARS AND MAIR. 73 V. turn linth mnde; iKpliiyert ; 1(j ! wlint chau!;o ! « tt « liroiis the Btngc." M. B. IJuowN. \([ gray, and raw, I'Diiml thcuisolveH lino, near one of the clironiclos of the history of to- 10 Grando ClmuB- gj;cd and nnlevel ;(t tlio last linger- ost - horses. Onr joyfully alighted which, according inging '^bovo the Inn of the Vine." rith sturdy walls, roof, thickly cov- ) midst of which the npper story. Iiered into what or sitting-room. Tlio coiling was supported liy heavy cnms- hoanis of (lurk wood, giving it a curious and unti(|uu appearance. In tlio centre of tho apartment stood a tahle covered with a snow- whito linen clotli. On tho broad hearth lay blazing logs, crackling and siiarkling as if celebrating sonic festivity of tlicir own. In ft sort of recess near the hearth sat a couple of women, busy with the distaflf and shuttle, so that tho monotonons hum of the wheel mingled with the pleasant crackling of the lire. A stout woman rose to greet them, courtesjing, and asking in her native puiois their commands, llor face was brown and wrinkled, but not unpleasant. Her scarlet skirt, white bodice and cap, were iu keeping with tho cheerful comfort of tho room. The Landlord, who was smoking his pipe near tho lire, addressed tho travellers iu French, and bade thorn welcome to tho iun. While suiipor was being ordered, they seated themselves near tho tiro, and amused themselves examining the jilace and its ap- pointments. The mosu prominent feature thereof was a large walnut press, extending almost from tloor to ceiling, and polished till it shone again. On tho top were china fig- ures, in garbs scarcely more picturesque than the people of tho inu. On tho wall beside it 74 BEVKM YEAHS AND MAIH. hung ft lar>;o wooden hnly-watov font, anil lioni "1(1 tlicro nrotuiil Ibo room various col- cncil piintH ofsaciod wubjects. On Kyvind tho room "uulo littli) impn-H- Hion, except Buch m was produced l)y itH Hubstantiiil I ilort.in contrast t« tho uvuy gloom of tho wintry dusk, tliron«h wliicli Huow wiiM falling iu soft, heavy llakcH, and lust lii'ginning to wliitcn tho landscape. hut with Kiic it was dilVorent. 1 nUy aliv to tlio quaint romance of tho little inn, hi could have believed himself in an ancient hostlery of the post. Whereas Eyvind had but lately lived amidst scenes moni pictu- resque, mingled with p«o)do os (puiint aiul primitive, and whoso dwellings were as cu- rious and ancient as this. Erie had spent years in the mod'vn world of civilization, and justly regarded this littlo nook as one forgotten in the bustle of the century, which had left it as it was, a part and parcel of tho past. . . Their supper was brought in, served dainti- ly and prettily, with French tastefulnesH and French cleanliness. Eric was iu ecstasy ; he was charmed with evorything, and in such state of mind, that when from her labor at the distatf rose a pale, fair-haired, slender niaidou, he was fully prepared to believe her I* ] fnl HOI in Hi he Ye to dit bu tr.n Fr dii trii ho ast tie he yei sel to ree ox bei foi lie coi ll ■HMSb MHOPJ y-wntcv font, ftiul room vaiioiin col- ots. liulo lilllo imi)reH- 1 jnodiiccd by IN lit I list f'» iiio jji'Hy ik, tliroii;;U wliicli heavy itaUcs, anil Ml tlio 'andscape- rout. I iiUy alivi- f tlio littln inn,lu soU' in sill iincieiu icicas Eyviiid lind ((•ones iiioro pictii- i)do OH iiiiiiint and ulliiiRS vorc as cii- i», Erie lind Hpoiit rid of civilization, little luxdv as oiio the century, whirh t and parcel of the ht in, served dniiiti- ch taatefiilni'ss and was in ecstasy; lie thing, and in such I from her labor at 'air-haired, slender larcd to helieve her BKVEN YKAHS AND MAIH. 75 ft priiiCPHS in disguise, and the most beauti- ful of mortals. Tliey both observed her with some attention. 81ie was prettily dressed in peasant cost nine, coarse but picturesque. Her eyes were blue, her hair iv sort of lla.xeii, her complexion jiale, her features regular. Yet she was not a beauty, and her elaliim to admiration lay principally in liiat she differed widely from the dark, merry -eyed, buxom lasses who abounded in that region. She cast a hasty glance in passing at tlio travellers; then, addressing a few words in I'Vencli to the landlord, left the room, and did uot return that night. Aleaiiwliilo our travi Hers were volubly entertained by the host III 'Cootl Danio Lucille, his sister, who assisted him in the maiingcmeiit of domes- tic atlaira since the ; tliroiiuli ilttllchlH imj;i<'l'iiiitH,\vlieii, I'm liict, Htartcd a IHO )l('HijKiH'(l. Ilo rt called liiin wmii- ic HtiUH wcro Hllill- ittlo window with iiw by tlmir li^lit Btill falliii};; ftixl lero ho was. Ho ; tlioir arrival in ed inn, tho iieople, iiing. Thon,n)J!aiu, itiiict, became jnm- 10 was soon nuleep ko till the morning md Hooded all the strollinR about the ; from the lawyer, iiinj; town. They tlicm: tho queer , with their heavy SaVIN YEARH AND MAIR. 77 thfttcheH, out of which i>oopod tho upper windowH; tint vi^(■yurd^4, Htripped and leaf- lew; the orcluirdH, full of Hkeleton-liko treoH, covered with Hue, powdery hiiow. They obNcrved liiat tho women were not eonspie- uiuiH for beauty, beiuK for the moHt part (lurk and Hwiirthy; in the younK*'r o»ef«, their youthful vivacity aiul HpriKhttinoHx redeemed llu'iu from positive UKlineHH; but when yontli, aiul itM sparkle aud >;low, hud pUHsed away, they were wrinkled, aud dull, and homely. Toward evening tho young men returned to tlio hotel; anil, Healing fhemwdves near the landhu'd, Krio began to eonverHo with him on the villago and itH inhabitants. Nanette, an on tho evening ]>revious, was busy with her Hpiuning ; finding tinu>, how- ever, to steal a furtive glance at tho yonug travellers. " I Hupposo there are many of the old boU gueurs etliil in po-ssessiou of their nuiuors throughout Touraiuo," said Eric to tho laud- lord. "Jhit yes, inonsieur, there are ninny of them," Haid the man, taking his pi|io from his mouth. " Our own seigneur is ilead, but tho chAteau still reuittius in possession of Lis daughter." m\\ 78 SBVBN YEARS AND MAIK. v t " TUey are Scotch, aro tbcy not »" said Eric. " But no, monsienr, tliey aro Frencli, saitl the Jiindlora— " true Tonraiuesc." " But of Scottisli descent t" asked Eric. "It is said,'' answered tbo landlord, nod- ding affirmatively, " that in the old, old times the first of tlieiu canio from Scotland, and fonsht in the wars of the king, especially in tliose of Louis XII., suniamed Le Pvre dii Peuple. Often I have heard the old people tell of their doings in the Italian -svars. But that is long ago." " What is the name of your seigneur, or, rather, his descendants f" " Douglas," said the man ; " there is but ono daughter left of them, a beautiful l: MAIU. «^Bi tale to Eyvind. Ho seemed deeply moved ou learning that the hapless wonmn ho had 80 long regarded as his mother was only his nurse. It was again past niiduight when they retired, so bnsy were they discussing the old topic with this new light thrown upon it. .,11 Next morning, the lawyer's card was hand- ed to them-M. Victor Maurin. Ho waited for them in the great room of the inn. They had liim sliown to their apartments, where they could better discuss the important af- fairs under consideration. Tlie lawyer was neatly and scrnpulonsly attired in black, according to the custom of Frencu proies- Bional men. His manner had all the precise and formal politeness of the old school, but under this old-fashioned courtesy he veiled a keen legal acumen. He begged them to give him a concise ar.d accurate account ot the crazy woman, her arrival upon the isl- and, her' death, and tho circninstances at- tendant thereupon. He contirmo<»! the land- lord's vers.ou of the story, and dcciared that it was not the mother, but the nurse of the child, who had so mysteriously disappeared. Ho a MAIR. raed deeply moved less woman lio bad lotlier waH only his I8t iniduigbt -Nvlieu n-e tlioy discussing new liglit thrown yer's card was hand- iiiuiin. lie waited imoftlieinn. They ' apartments, where js the important af- n. The lawyer wan y attired in black, n of French profes- !r had all the precise f the old school, but rt courtesy be veiled He begged them to accurate account uf xrrival upon the isl- r, circnmMtances at- 5 conftrmei'i the land ry, and declared that but the nurse of the urionsly disappeared, supposed at the time ■rotly married to one , of her own free-will SEVEN YEAHS AND MAIU. 81 and consent, gone with the marauding crow. This, however, ho said, was merely a current report, which liad iittle or no foundation, and did not in any wise affect the bearing^, of the case. Ho advised them to lose no time in waiting upon Madame do Montfau- cou, to whose care bad been intrusted Mad- emoiselle Hdldne, the heiress of the Douglas estate, and the lixst of her name. IIo prom- ised to appoint an hour when they might call on the ladies at the chateau, and discuss Eyvind's claim to a share in the inheritance. The inteiview was appointed for the next daj-, if agreeable to the ladies ; and the law- yer took hi.s leave, promising to let tliem know the Lour for their visit to the chfttean. 6 J! SEVEN YEAB8 AND MAIU. CHAPTER VI. "A thon"htrul cliild, she read the book orXatm-c, ler .pirit wou its tone f >o.u danclns Btream« ; Ami the bright Btnile, enlivening every fc"t"'c, lud CiUight new radiance from the sunny beams. She loved each flower that by her ways.de bios- She loved the bird that snn- its notes of g ee ; And, blending with all Nature's sweetes'. voices, Arose her spirit's gentle -i-t,.elsy^^^_^ ^^^^^_ Harly next moriiinR tliey received a uoto from the lawyer, appointing the lionr of elev- en for their interview with niadanio. iol- lowing one of the pretty little cross-roacls, .X8 diveelea by the landlord, they came, after a Bhort walk, to a sort of !^"'"«^ S'^^*^-;];"^'' hearing the armorial ensigns of a noblo family? Thov passed through the arch, and foH.ul themselves in a narrow liUie or avc- nne, still strewn with the fad.nl garments of the doad summer— the sero and yellow leaves, dank with moistnro ; while, rising from amidst this desolation, WiW an occa- sional pine-shrub, standing dreary and alouo, J_ ND MAIR. 8KVEX YEAKS AND MAIR. 83 t VI. the book of Natme, in dancins streams ; ning every feature, from the snuny beams. t by her wayside bloB- ntr Its notes of slee; ire's sweetcs* voices, uliistrclsy." Emma Wood Smitu. tliey received a uoto ;iiigtholiourofelcv- vith iiiailiinie. Fol- ty littlo cross-roads, ord, tbey ciuno, after of mined Rate-way, ensigns of a noblo lirongb the arch, and narrow lane or ave- tho faded garnienta the sero and yellow isture ; while, rising lation, was an occa- liiig dreary and aloue, J. tlio only child of nature that had survived the austerity of winter. Trees still stood in their accnstonied places, easting skeleton- like shadows on the road. Their beautiful foliage had died with the sweet sounds of nature, died w ith the melancholy October and its deceptive brightness, so like the ilush on the faded cheek of a consumptive. The wind moaued among the trees as they passed with a soft, musing sound, as of one who pondered geutlo memories of a happy post. The friends proceeded along the avenue till they reached a high wall — so high, in- deed, that no glimpse of the chiUeau could bo had above it, except of the siinaro par- apet or tower attached to the left wing. They began seriously to doubt whether there could bo any signs of life or warmth beyond that great barrier, which seemed to cut the dwelling olf from all eoniuiuniea- tion with the world. Tliey reached the wide, oaken carriage-gate giving entrance to the court- yard beyond, and paused an instant bef(;:e they raised the ponderous knocker. It resounded through the court- ya:d ; it startled the cheerless silence ; but it was almost immediately answered by au old servant iu dark and somewhat faded ij ii 84 8EVKN YEARS AND MAIU. livery. PaRsing in, they found tbcmselyea in a Bpaoions cnrt-yanl, giving uuexpccteil signa of life and activity. It was ornan.eu - ed Nvith niavblo fountains, standing m a 8 t of pathetic qniotudo, rcniind.ng one that tho stern hand of winter had hecn hud on then Zh and Bparklo. Near then, the perennu. Sure of son.e hardy plants lent the.r hes etibrts at eheerfuh.ess to the scene. V. «es and statuary stood round m profiision. Ho chateau itself ^vas half covered Nvith n > , which crept thicUer and darker up the pai- apet, and throngh the loop-holes on its snm- nlit, once used for purposes of defense, fhe old^vallaa«dtheirhigh,narrow,latt.ced^^.n- dows looked nnproniisingly cold and gra> , sprinkled hero and there with snow. Just helow the steps leading to the principal en- trance was a sundial, that, even in *!>« '""l- snmnier, kept, unnoticed, its record of the shining hours and watched, with unshared joy, for the sun's warm beams all throngh the long day of sunshine. Eric and Eyvind looked around tlieni. Servants were hurrying hither and thither Nearly all were old, and nearly a 1 dressed with a ciuaint sombreness that struck the voung men as in harmony ^vith t>e scone The men wore the quiirterings of the family on ve \V( dii lej cit sic th su ch no cd an rai sh. 8t£ an th wl fa( wi mi coi tiq til: till ch pri -*^-?|iSii^gi.5BW^WS»«s»*='"' m MAIR. found tbcraselvos jiviiij; uucxpcctfil 'it wii8 ornanieiit- stiinding in a sort iidiiig onoiliat tlio 1)0011 kiiil on their thorn the v>l lilts lent their best. tho scene. Vhros in profusion. Tho covorod witli ivy, dnrker np the par- )p-h(ilos on its siiin- ,08 of defonso. Tho larrow, latticed win- igly cold and gray, iTwitli Hiiow. Jnst to tho principal cn- at, even in the mid- d, its record of tho jhod, witli unshared 1 beams all throiigli oked around them. ; hitlier and thither, d nearly all dressed less that struck tho lony with tho scene, tcv'inga of tho family SEVEN YBAU8 AND MAIR. m on tho buttons of their livery, and on tho sil- ver buckles of their shoos. Jiotli men and wonieii boro themselves with a sort of sub- dued chei'rfiiliieNH,\vliich reminded Erie of the legend of tlio Shn-ping Triiicess and her lui- eieiit retainers starting suddenly from their sleep of centuries. Yet, in point of fact, their costnmo and demeanor were simply such as Kiii^lit bo found in any old French chdteau, wliero inoderu encroachments had not found their way. However, Erie and his friend were usher- ed into the hall, where they were met by an old mailre d' hotel, or major-domo, who rang for my lady's maid. Then tliey were shown into tho drawing -rooms; vast and stately apartments, with floors of stained and polished walnut. High wainscoting of tho same reached half-way up tho wall, where it was met by draperies of rich, but faded, liowerod silk. Tho windows, covered with heavy curtains of similar material, ad- mitted only a dim, dusky liglit, mercifully concealing the ravages of time on tho an- tique furniture, that was of quaint and old- time character, each piece surmounted by tiio arms of tho Douglases. The tables and cliimney-pieco were covered with ornanionts principally of Sfevres and tho like, of which f.l 8f) SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. some wore very odd, and all of considerable As the visitors examined tbo room, a lady entered — entered with a peculiar stately craee, and a K»'iitle, noiseless step. S lo wi'» tall an*, anil Hiiuill, limply curved uiontli. IJdow tlio portrait, nii ilin rim of tbo locket, wore tlio initials, M. 1'. "Tliut is iiiKloubtodly Marguerite Doug- Jan," said luadauio, without raining her eyes from tlio portrait, "just as I knew her long ago." The young men fancied they Haw a tear npou her cheek, but it might have been only fancy. "Tbo portrait of her husband m on tlio other Bide, madanie," »)b.«terved Eric, and nia- rtame turned the locket. She saw Ibere a fair-li liicd and blno-eycd man, hancUonio, dashing, and reckless, with a proud frank- ness ami an almost boyish happiness in his face. This time tlio tear wa a reality, and rolled down inadamo's cheek aud on to her Bali II gown. " That is my friend," she Buid, " as ho was twenty years ago, before sorrow had begun to tell upon him— that great sorrow of his life which brciiiglit him to an early grave." Then, after a pause, slio said, raising her eyes to look at Eyviiid, "You do not resem- ble your father. If you are really a Doug- las in uamo, you are a Stewart in appcar- nnt the iuti i thr wii am am ed riel ofi cer tun Till IllU! IICII bo fat! saw waf wit lla.\ boy the Dot act Mai of li Btru II jL W MAIR. 1 1)I(uk linir waved iol't, (heiiiny cy«H, 1011 til. lU-low tlio locket, were tlio MarRncrito Doiig- it niiHini; lit'i' eyes IS) I know her long (1 tlicy Haw a tear jbt liavo bcoii only liiisbaiul in on tlio irvi'd Eric, and nia- Slio k;\w tliere a [■(I man, linnilsonic, ith a proud frunk- ih liapiiinoss in his f wii ' a reality, anil lieek and on to her he said, " as ho was ( sorrow had begun great sorrow of his to an early grave." ho said, raising her ' You do not resem- i arc really a Dong- Stewart in appoar- BEVEN VEAttS AND MAIH. 89 anco. And now, if you wish, we will visit tlio pieliiio-gallery.and coni|mio these wiu- iatnres with tlni original porMuitH." Hlio rose m hIid Hpoke, and hading ill*"!!! through a variety of long eorridors and winding |)!i«8ageH, opened an arelied door and nslieied ttiein inio ,i room, long, low, and lit fitnn above. The walls were cover- ed with portraits — men and women in a va- riety of costumes, each bearing the stamp of its (lunti I V. Madamo led them toward a certain portion of the room where tlio cos- tumes were more modern: hero she paused. Tiiey saw lirst a tall, gray- haired man, with massive head and brow, jiierc ing eyes, and lienevolent month. Madame declared it to bo Ihat of Kobert Douglas the elder, grand- father t)f the proHcnt heiress. Next they saw that of Uoberu Douglas the younger. It was unnecessary to comparo the miniature with it; there were tho same half-cnrliiig (laxen hair, tiio blue, laiigliing eyos, tho boyish mouth and chin. They needed not tho inscription boneath — Kobert, Viscount Douglas. iJesido him was his wife, tho ex- act counter[)art of tho niiniatiiro, and, as Madanio do M and iniuuier. In lu-r iniiul, at l.-a»t, luiktMl I'o <»«'»>>t •'"^t tho hoir of tho DonnluHCH was in iuuhchco ol his ances- tors. Tli.'.v wliil.Ml away an hour or inoro ainoiiL' tho Htafly kiiif?htH anys ol tho nark, and tho faces of thoir doHcondauts one bv Olio imsHcd away into tho church-yard, c'lviiiK idaco to others. Tho last in tho long lino of portraits was that of a young girl. Madanio,i)aiiHinghi"foroit,snid, " This is Madonioisollo Hdlijiu-, tho present possessor of tho estate." , . , . , Thev almost wondered at tho bright .joy- OUS1.C88 of tho face; tho half- parted lips, tho sniilo that provoked an aimwcring ono from tho gazers; tho cyos soft, dark, and childish, tho hair black, and curling a littlo upon tho forehead; tho attitude graceful, easy, and unalfectcd. A rare picture she made in tho graciousncss of youth and beau- ty filling her place in the proud and noblo assemblage through whoso veins coursed >B> If ID MAin. well r«Mnoinl)cro(1, lor. In Ikt iniml, , tliat ilio licir of lOllfiO of lii« (viiccs- ivu lioiir or iiioro tH iiiid lailieH of a Iciiin ai-^iiity liml It) ypnrn mi'l «vt'ii ;lll%. ^J Aft. > %^ -^S^^ V IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 lew M [2.2 2.0 1.8 1-4 mil 1.6 <^ /a '^1 •c*l ^ ^^' Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y 14580 (716) 872-4503 w- ^^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques SEVKN YEAU8 AND MAIH. 91 tlio life-blood of a hundred earls. Such a incturo did JltUcne herself make, roaming with girlish freedom through the dark cor- ridors of the ancestral chilteau, inaying in the ancient Gothic chapel, or receiving guests in the stately drawing-rooms. Leaving tlio picture-gallery, madame cor- dially invited the gentlemen to rensain and diuo : dinner was always at mid-day. They consented the more willingly, that both had a curiosity to meet tlio original of the last portrait in the gallery. Just as dinner was announced she glided into the drawing- room ; and they could have fancied she had slipped from her frame and appeared before them. The same bird-like joyousness, the same unconscious grace, the same rich col- oring, the same dark, happy eyes. When madame presented the gentlemen, she greet- ed them with an case that partook of iiait'c^e. Madame, however, made no allnsion to the object of their visit. Dnring dinner the con- versation was' on general subjects. Oidy Eric, turning to Hdlisue, spoke of their visit to the picture-gallery. "And did monsieur find pleasure in look- ing at tlie portraits T" she asked him. "A very great deal of pleasure, mademoi- selle," replied Jlric, heartily; "it was most interesting, I assure you." 92 SEVEN YEAKS AND MAIR. "I lovo tlicm myself," sbo said, "tboiigh I have seen them every day since my cbild- hood. I go there in the afternoon when the sun is ahnost shut out by the trees. I fancy all kinds of thiugs about them, and I forget where I am till it has become dark. Then I am frightened, aud I run out of the room sbiveringi" " Why shonlvl you feel afraid, mademoi- selle?" said Eric, smiling. " Because I have read all the old legendca about them, and soino of them were cruel and wicked, aud I fear tbem." Meanwhile madame chatted affably with Ey vind, who, it must be confessed, was some- what awkwai-d and constrained, till the din- ner was pretty well advanced. Soon after they arose from .ao table the gentlemen took their leave, cbarnnd with their morning at the chateau, and looking forward eagerly to a renewal of it. To Eric especially tliis esisy, informal intercourae, the nameless charm felt ia tlio society of refined women, was peculiarly attractive, and bo remembered that morning as a green spot in the long bustle and turmoil of tbo last five years. On their return to the inn they found M. Mauriu awaiting them. He had been searching among various dooii- - -.^x^S^ia^iiKSA-Hi "S*^ v^ ) AND MAIR. f,"Klio sai«l, "tbongh y day since n»y cbild- e afternoon when tbo by tbo trees. I fancy int tboni, and I forget beconio dark. Tben ruu out of the room feel afraid, raadcmoi- ad all tbo old legendes i of tbeni were crnel • tbein." cbatted affably with e confessed, wassonie- nstrained, till the diu- Ivanced. ISO from ..10 table the • leave, cbarniod with chateau, and looking •enewalofit. To Eric informal intorcouree, felt in tbo society of peculiarly attractive, lat nmrning as a green tie and turnioil of tbo heir return to the inn 1 awaiting them. He among various docn- SKVKN YEARS AND MAIR. 93 mcnts and papers relating to the case, and examining witnesses who bad known tbo circuiiistances of Marguerite Dubois's disap- pearance with the infant heir of the Doug- lases, and lio assured tlieui that there was every reason to expect the speedy establish- ment of tbo claim. Ho said that the papers found iu the possession of tho dead woman threw a strong liglit on tlio long mystery, being a sort of confession, which clearly proved that Marguerite Dubois did in reali- ty consent to a plan by which her husband, Armand Dubois, a pirate, proposed to abduct the infant son of Robert Douglas, hoping to obtain a large ransom. It was probably in a tit of remorse that tho woman hung round Eyvind's neck tho locket with the two min- iatures, and containing a scrap of paper bear- ing the inscription : " This child I do decJrrc to he the son of Hob- ert and Marguerite Douglas, ahducicd by Ar- mand Duhois, ifilh my knowledge and asaistanee. Signed, M. Dubois," This scrap was carefnlly inserted between tho miniature and the back of the locket, and was discovered by tho merest accident. However, as M. Manrin said, it was a pretty conclusive proof of Eyvind's identity, when g^liOSBasa^iss'**'-'"^"- 94 BETEN YEAHS AND MAIR. coupled with liia icmavknWo resemblance to the miiiiaturo ami origiiml portrait. lie cou- cratulatcd him on the probahility of lus en- tering into possession of a fine estate, unci that at no distant day. After which hu took his leave, promising, as bolore, to follow up the case. CHAPTER VII. " At length n sail appears In slsht ; 'Tis Wealth that come?, and gay and hrlgUt HiB golden bark rettccta the light. But ah ! It Is not Love's. "Another sall-'twas Friendship show'd Her night-lnmp o'er the Boa ; And calm the light that lamp bestow d ; Bnt Love had lights that warmer glow d ; And where, alas 1 was he ?" Moon*. For some weeks the yonns men remained at the inn, enjoying themselves to the InU- eat extent in exploring the conntry rouna, sailing or rowing upon the Loire, which, though blue enough at times when the sKy above casta down its azure reflection, they foutul to be for the most part a much duller aud muddier stream thau the ballads ot the 4 LKD MAIR. nl)le rcsoniblance to ilportiiiit. Ilecou- robal)ility of h'ia cn- if a fine estate, uiul After which ho took before, to follow up R VII. 9 in Bisht ; I, nsid si\y aud bright a the light, ■o'B. ieiulshlp sliow'd Me sea ; it Inmi) bestow'd ; lat warmer glow'd ; 18 her Moonf. yoting men remained leinselvea to the fnll- g the country rouucl, on the Loire, which, t times when the sky azure reflection, they ist part a ninch duller hau the ballads of tbo SEVEN YEAHS AND MAIR. 95 country or the pen of romancers had led tliem to believe. Yet the days aud tlie twi- lijjlits they spent upon it were very beauti- ful; and taouf;li they found it a great con- trast to the many -phased ocean, tlioy thor- oughly enjoyed it. Sometimes, at evening, tlie varied colors of the sunset sky fell ou tlie waters and relieved their dull common- place; fell, too, in warm, hazy mists, upon the old wall or embankment, placed npou the left bank of the Loire, to prevent the en- croachments of the water. Tbo wall was damp and mouldy, crumbling a little in some places, and leaving openings— beyond the water-level, however, aud therefore nev- er repaired. To the left lay a dreary waste of level land, over which the water flowed unrestrained; far above on the cliffs wcio old, time -worn dwellings, built in the soft rock, which had stood there from an imme- morial period. In these the peasants had made their homes, secure from the d.inger of inundation. Sometimes, at evening, aa the young men drifted quietly down the river in the amber haze of the evening light, boatmen passed them singing the bal- lads of the coinitry ; aud once a chorus of two or three voices sung, as they swept past them, ^^^^sgaEvi3aaBasi.-s»«i.^»^ 06 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIU. "O belle riviere O cliiirmniito ni-lle, ' O (li)iico campngMo, O pays iraiKiHillc j" anil wlien tlio voicoa diwl away in tlie tlis- tance, Eyviiiu told his friend li« recognized tlio air ius one the crazy woman ncjd to sing in tlio lint at 1 onla. When tboy moored their boat tliat even- ing, it was darlf, and tlio stars had softly Htolen out, trembling and faint, o or the dark river, wliich was just lowing the deep flnsh cast npon it by tlio red sun. At such times the yoniig men couhl boliovo themselves back by sea-washed Foula, and lived over again the old days of their friend- ship, the bond between tlioni growing strong- er and stronger. They remained at the inn, and made occasional calls of ceremony at the chateau, calls which began to lose their ceremonions character, and bccanio visits of friendship. However, it was still mid-winter when M. Manrin declared that Eyvind, the nameless waif, tossed by the sea on a cheerless shore, was the real, nndispntcd heir to the great estate left by the late Rob- ert Viscount Donglas. Madame do Mont- faucon received tho intelligonco with the greatest equanimity. It made, after all, but a n M VII w ti tl C( ei b: ni hi ti as w g> tl cc 01 ki ai ov cl bi si! a tb di ev NU MAIR. SKVBN YEARS AND MATR. 97 3 lillOi" id away in the ilis- it'iid lit) recognized voniaii uc'jd to sing eir boat that evon- 10 Htnis had softly ml fniut, o '.>r the 1st hmiiig the deep red Hiin. g iiKin could boliovo washed Foula, and ilaysof Ihoirfriciid- uii) growing stroiig- f remained at the .1 calls of ceremony hicli began to lose actor, and became owovcr, it was still fturin declared that lif, tossed by the sea the real, undisputed eft by the late Kob- Madamo de Mont- telligonco with the ; made, after all, but a slight difforcnco to her. She would of necessity retain her position as chaperone to Mademoiselle Douglas. The young heiress, whom slio certainly loved as a daughter, would still bo iu possession of a largo por- tion of her fortune, ami her own interest in the ancient house made her rejoice in its continuance in the direct line. As for Mad- emoiselle ll(^16ne, she was overjoyed: the happiness of having a brother far overbal- anced, iu her unworldly mind, the loss of half her fortnne. It was true, her new rela- tive had not fallen very easily into his plac« as.yot. It was not in his reserved tind some- what reticent nature to form new ties with great facility ; but when it began to be clear that he was the lovely IWlfene's brother, ho certainly did make an effort, and no trifling one, to act toward her with all fraternal kindness and affection. This her simplicity and childishness made the more easy, and oven before his rights were formally de- clared, the future Viscount Douglas found himself on tolerably good terras with his sister. Eric,'too, haeoplo at the chateau. He enjoyed going in and out, dining or supping with them ; spending cosy eveningSjUot iu the stately drawing-rooms, 7 98 SEVEN YEAWS AND MAIR. bnt ill a sort of morning-room, where cvery- tl.iiiR was brighter, moro cheerful, ami more At Iu8t tlio ovcnlful day arnvcil when Evviu.1 was to take hi» place m seigneur ot tlio chfttean, aiul bo presented in that light to his people. The eoiemoi.y was.iu wmio respects, a religious one. It opono.l with a solemn high muss. The church was crowd- cd Tlio Douglas pow was wreathed witli evergreens and llowors; in it sat Madame do Montfaucon with Mademoiselle Douglas, tho Olio richly, the other simply but protti- Iv. attired, as suited their respective ages. Eric and his friend sat in a pew opposite, and were naturally tho observed of all observ- ers. Perhaps, after them, the most prominent person in the assemblage was an old man- tier, who harotoct his teii- nntry and retainers; offered him, on a gold- en plate, the keys of the chAtean, as token that he thus invested him Avith the mano- rial tenure; and, lastly, placed the coronet upon his head. At the commencement of this ceremony the choir sung tlio rent Crea- tor, then burst into the triumphal strain of Landa Hion, and concluded with the Magnifi- cat. Wiien the iuvestituro was ended, the curd intoned the Te JJciim, which was in- stantly taken up by the choir, and with this the proceedings closed. When the congregation streamed out of the church, it was a glorious noonday. The morning had been gray and cloudy, but the clouds had all dispersed, and the sky was blue and dear. It was one of those days of sunshine that cheers the heart, and fills tho mind with pleasant thoughts and happy im- ages. It seemed a good omen for tho bright f 100 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIB. ftitnro opening Itcforo tlio oiio<' denpigeil ftiiil porsocutoil Eyviiul. On l.-iiviiiB tlio church, the party fniin tlio chAtutui at oiico entered the ciirrut«0H and drove thither. Uo»ide» nmdame, inmlcnioiHoUe, and the young men, the ciirrt Ijad been invited, al«o M. Maurin, the little lawyer. The StewartH from the nciuhhorinKHcignenry.beinK nearly connect- ed with the DousliiHCH, were also hid.lfin to the fonst. There was Visconnt Stewart, iv modinin - nixed, Blemler man of thirty, fnlly possessed with his own iMiportance, a little dissipated in appenranee, and speaking with a painfully atfeeted drawl. Tliere was his father, taller, bent a littlo at the shouldors, with a keen, cold face, and a calm, critical glance, which uever lost anything of what was passing around him. H« was quiet and courteous in manner, and wholly free from nffoctation of any kind. And, lastly, Agnftso Stewart, a (piiot, coinmonplaco young girl, with no particular trait of character except a great awe of her father, and a reverential admiration for her brother, who."«ct- iver« also WiiMcu to /iHooniit Stewart, iv nan of tlilrty, tnlly iuiportniicoi » I'tt'" ,an(l upcakingwitli \vl. TluMo was lii8 lo at tho shouldorB, anil a culm, critical t iiiiylliing of what . n« was qniet and 111 wlioUy free from And, lastly, Agnfiuo onplaco young girl, of character except pr, and a rovoreiitlal thor, whoso lightest tho chfttean, an clc- l. During its prog- was extremely ani- ■art drawled out va- BBVEN YEARS AND MAIR. 101 rious remarks upon people aud things to his cousin, wiio sat next him. "Ho tiiin— I li(>g your jtardon — your broth- er, I should say," li» olisurved, " and his friend are — Laplanilfrs, I i)eliuvef" " How absurd, Henri!" said H<^lftne, a lit- tle angrily. "You know tho Ijaplandors aro Haui'injc. Why, then, do you say such a thing!" "i'ardoi , mon tinge," ho t ' , bestowing n glance and smilo on her which he believed had i>ower to charm tho motit ailamantino of hearts; "it was a uiiHtako— as they say lu English, a slip of tlio tongue. Hut why docs the other inlander travel witli him ?" " He is his friend," she answered. "All yes, a sort of — i)ardon me, ma inign- oiiue — I was about to say, keeper." "You are rode, Henri," said TWl^ne, an- grily, " positively rude. I will not have it. You sliall not speak so of my brother aud his friend." " Itlost tyrannical of boanttims cousins," ho saitl, " I am only teasing you, A littlo temper makes you so chariaiiig." Here Eric, who sat oii the other side of Mademoiselle H<516ue, and who had been con- versing with madauie aud tho elder Stewart, turned and spoke. «i«" 102 8EVEK YEARS AXD MAIB. "So j'ou really have yonr brother," he said, smiliug; " yours at last, by the right of investitine." ».,„ , " I foel very happy to think of it," slio Siiiil, tinning hor soft eyes to him, tho color Btill lingering iu her face from the recent opisoile— " I who have been so much alone, for I hiul no one but Marraiue to care for." rerhaps tlicro was a spice of feminine re- sontment in tho last words, intended, as they were, for her cousin's ear. lie listen- ed, liis eyes cast down, a supercilious smile playing over his face. " I can appreciate tho feeling," said Erie, "and can readily understand wliat it must bo to come iiiio possession of a brother." "Aiul lose a portion of yonr estate," said the viscount, joining iu tho couversatiou with cool impertinence. Hellene reddened. Eric, looking at tho viscount with perfect composure, answered, " I beg pardon, monsieur, but I did not catch your remark. Might I beg you to re- peat it?" , ^, "It would not boar repetition," said tho viscount, carelessly. " Besides, I have made it so often to-day that I am becoming weary of it." " Indeed," said Eiic ; " theu I am to con- ss«Ka W*SftA*^«aMiM«M«M« KSD MAIR. ) yonr brother," lie t last, by tbo rigUt to tliiiik of it," she res to him, tbo color ICC from tbo recent boon 80 much alone, rraiiie to care for." spice of feminine re- words, intended, as iu's ear. He listen- a supercilions smile feeling," said Eric, rstand what it nnist ion of a brother." of yonr estate," said iu the couversatiou Eric, looking at the omposnre, answered, isienr, bnt I did not tight I beg you to re- repetition," said the Besides, I have raado 1 am becoming weary ; " then I am to con- 8EVEN YEARS AXD MAIR. 103 aider myself most unfortunate in having lost it." There seemed to bo a quiet sarcasm in the perfect courtesy of the reunvrk that the vis- connt felt and resented. " Yo.. were about to tell me, nuulemoiselle," said Eric, without giving tlio viscount time to answer, "something which Monsieur Stewart's remark interrupted. May I beg you to continue!" " 1 suppose I was speaking of my happi- ness," slie said. " One does not find a broth- er every day, and a brother so kind and at- tentive." " Has he had leisure to inspect his share of the estate!" asked the viscount, with an ill-concealed sneer. "I think not," answered Eric, looking steadily at the viseonnt; " and I am sure i>;< would be indebted for your company in vis- iting it, you seem so well acquainted with it." " My fathe-'s sister was the wife of tho iate seigneur," said the viscount, rcddeniuR ; " it is therefore very uatural that I should know it." "And feel so deep an interest therein," said Fric, again with quiet sarcasm. " At fu-st I was a little at a loss to understand r 104 SEVEN YEAnS AND MAIR. yonr eagerness with regard to it, but now, of course, I am not surprised." Eric turned, as before, to Mademoisello Douglas and continued tbeir conversation, as if bo regarded Stewart in tlie ligbt of a meddler, who joins in a discourse where be is evidently de trop, but is, nevertheless, en- titled through courtesy to a patient hearing. Meantime Douglas, at the bead of the table, tlid the honors, devoting himself more es- l)eeially to Mademoisello Stewart, with au ease and grace which astonished Eric, wlien- e>^rho chanced to glance that way. His
nt rcadi- I; wenltli and station tlieir train the lovo IS feared tho worst, 1 comforting refloo- viir. I)lnck niul tnll, eep the slioie ; imir peemetl ilui' bloiit. i's nppalliiipr cries, is heiird bi-tweeu, low niirt chill, igllnj; still. ! All, piize 1 gleam bet rays'." German Uallad». stivities nt tbo cas- 3 evening alone, and tlio inn. It was a lie yellow niooa was i [ SEVEN YEAUS AND MAlll. 100 sliimmerinj; on tho frosted trees and tho snow -covered landscape. Orion and tlio Twins, paled by tbo glow and glory of tbo moon, were keeping their solenni conrso on tbrongU tbo silent heavens. The throned Cassiopeia reigned her transient reign over the night, and palo but lnuiinons,in tbo fur north, the white radiancu of tbo aurora bo- realis jiarted tbo darkness of the clouds into a seeming dawn of wonderful beauty. When Dougla.s reached tho inn ho found Nanette atone. " Como out into tbo nioon- ligbt !" bo said, somewhat abruptly ; " I bavo Sdinotbing to say to you." She took down a shawl from a peg and wrapped herself in it. Tho shawl was red, and wns becoming, because it gave color to tbo girl's still, colorless face. "Yon wish to speak to me, monsionr?" sbo said, quietly. "I cannot stay hero long." "I shall not detain yon," said Douglas, in a sort of suppressed voice. " What I have to say can quickly be said. It is only this — that I love you !" " Lovo me, my lord ! You do mo too mnch honor," she answered, trembling n little, and her lip quivering. "Do not speak of honor in tho innttor," "mm 110 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. sniil Doiiglns, impctuonsly; "only tell me, doiiH it please yoiif" '*! do not know," slio snid, in n troubled voice; "but it i8 not right. You should lovo a lady of your owu rank, and not a poor girl Hko nie.'' " But what does it matter f I am free to wed whom I pleoao. Only give mo nu an- swer. Will you accept my lovet Will you bo my wifo?" "Your wifo!" said Nanette, slowly, as if she saw visions of . jewels, and coronets, and gay dresses. After a moment's thought, she said, " I cannot answer you uow, my lord ; I must consider." " Unt why can yon not answer mo T What is to prevent yon V ho asked, impatiently. "Simply that I do not know myself," sho said, hastily. "And now I must go; it is late. Good-night, my lord." Sho disappeared into the house before ho could say another word. Ho walked homo discontentedly. Ho could not come to any conclusion about her. Then ho felt he was at such a disadvantage in speaking Frencii ; ho know it so imperfectly as yet. And mus- ing thus, bo reached the chateau. He in- quired for madamo and the young people. The butler told him they were iu the tower. '■J KSD HAIR. Bly; "ouly tell mo, 1 snid, in ft troubled right. You bIiouIiI m rank, and uot a liter f I am free to 'Illy give mo an an- riiy love T Will you iinette, slowly, as if Is, and coronetB, and )ni(!llt'8 tilouglitiBho you now, my lord ; I t answer mo T What :sked, impatiently. it know myself," sho )w I must go; it is :)rd." the lioHso before ho I. Ho walked luinio nld not come to any Then ho felt he was in speaking Froncti ; ly as yet. And nins- lie chiltcnn. He in- d the young people, sy were iu the tower. SKVEN YEAU8 AND MAIH. Ill lie osked the servont to direct him thither. When they reaehed the farthest end of tho long corridor, stretching tlio whole breadth of tho building, tho lackey opened a door. They passed up ii narrow w inding staircase. At the top was an iron door, fastening with a spring. This led them to a sort of little passage, widening out into a largo square room. There ho fonml his friends, sitting in tho moonlight. Tho apartment was -well heated, furnished iu a very antique stylo, but with all due regard to comfort. Doug- las was greeted with a volley of laughing questions. Ho seated himself, parrying their attacks with what success he could. "Mademoiselle was about telling us a ghost-story when you camo in," said Eric ; " wo woro just settling ourselves to listen." "Well, consider me as onother listener, and proceed, fair sister," said Douglas. "Could you understand if I told it in French ?" asked Hdlhne. "Oh yes, I can understand it perfectly," said Douglas; "so begin." "A very long time ago," began Hdlisne, " one of the lirst of our ancestors who landed on French soil was then in possession of tho chAteau. Ho was a dark, swarthy man, and said by the country-people to be cruel uud mimmi' 119 BKVRN YKAR8 AND MAIIt. wiokod. Strnngo Htorios wero toltl of him. It wns wlimpcrod tliiit on (link iiif^hts red niid bliio uiid yellow liglitH wero hcuu from wiiidowH of tliu enstic, and thnt lio tlioro liold inectiiiKH with an infernal crew, whoso hulliitli ritcH, wliieh iisnally took iiliico dur- ing Btornis, conld bo heard at a long ditt- tiince. Ho wan Hcarcely over seen abroad, but tho talo went thnt soinctinie.s on wild iiightH hJM deuionincal laughter waH heard in tho village. This very tower was liiit favor- ito spot, and hero he often remained from HUUBot to HunrlHO, pacing up and vi- HJiiM roiimiiKid iiiiiiiovi'il. Tho poor man wiih hoiTor-Htric.ki'ii, iiiul itt tho nioiiiuiit tho tloor opciicil, ami bulow him, in whiit Hoenioil to lio a (loop oiivoni, woro moii in HtriitiKo, wilil ooHtnnioH, oi'oiichiiiK "V'T .i llro that liurnotl with It (loop-red thiiiio. Tlioy convcrsod in H Jurf';on whioh tho wiitclior could not nn- (lorMtiiiid. llo (H>nld hour tho clank of toolc, niid, iiH it Roomod, tho working; of mctuU and tho cliudiiiij; of armH. IIo miw tho Rtranj^o nnd Holonin fuoes of tho workors. Then tho viHion faded, and only tho man in onnor re- mainud, ntill standing Junt within tho iroa door. llo Hooniod now to wear a sad, re« ]irouchfiil look, yot, n» ho vaniuhod.rnng oat upon tho air a wild,de8pairin); langli. " How ho llnitthod that night of horror, the watclior ncvor know ; but at dawn ho stag- gorod into tho villago, related tho awful tale, and wuH Hcizcd with a tit of illno8H, from which ho nov(>r perfectly rii!('(l,uii MAin. 115 L olil and brokoii down mail, and tlmn it was diMcovorcd that a hand of coliiom had made their don in the howeU of the earth boncatli tho tower, and tliero piirmiod their unholy ealliiix, eMpccially when thostoiin wim liiKli- t'Nt and tho wiiul.i roaitd loudest. Tlie mys- tery ofhlin who appeared through tho iron door was never fully cxidaiiied.exeopt that tlio coinern, aiixioiiH to miiro away all iii,'laH namo or any of the neighboring ]»eoplo would vciit- iiro after iiiRbtfall into tliifi haunted tower, fearing loHt tho tloor should jiart and din- clone the eoinoiH, turned into demouH, puiKU- liig their work iu tho tiro of hell. Ho runs the legend." Ah lIi5li~>iio flnishcd, involuntarily hIio Shud- dered, and caHt a furtive glaiico around. Ev- ery oiio was Bilent, and at the same moment a stop was heard on tho stairs without, as if a)>pi'oacliing tho iron door, lldlhno scream- ed, and, trembling, drew close to her brother. As she did so, some ono, indeed, approach- ed tho iron door. It opened, and the sub- atuutiul form of the major-domo upiiottred, 116 BEVKN VEAI18 AJfD HAIR. i \ with a tray of refresbmeuts ordered by ma- darac. One ghost-story led to another ; the little circle drew closer round tlio fire, and, par- taking of the good cheer before them, kept their vigil till long past midnight. On their way down-stairs, H61fene clnnj,' close to her brother's side till they had got safely out of the hn-inted tower. She drew a sigh of re- lief when they were once more iti the famil- iar region of the corridor. " Sometime I must show yon all the secret doors and passages around tlie chateau," said she to Eric, "especially those in the tower ; and, by-the-way, that tower has the greatest possible number of legends con- nected with it. It is said that a yonng demoiselle of the house once saved herself in time of war by hastening thither and fastening the iron door. Tlie besiegers rushed liercely against it, and Lady Agnes, in despair, leaped from the window to the ground ; for the outer stairs were not then ottacJied to the tower. She was not hurt, but, rising, hnrried away into the country, and, concealed by the faithful peasants, ulti- mately reached a place of safety. Wiu* she not brave. Monsieur Eric T" " Brave indeed, mademoiselle," he said, •k-wweswffigp^MB-- -: AND MAIR. SBVEX YEARH AMD HAIIt. 117 leuts ordered by ma- te another ; the little nd the fire, and, par- ler before them, kept t midnight. On their lie chinj,' close to her had got safely out of he drew a sigh of re- ice more ia the fumil- or. iiow you all the secret ronnd the cliftteau," [)ccinlly tliose iu the ,y, that tower has the ibcr of legends con- 9 said that a young se oiico suved herself asteuing thither and loor. Tlie besiegers t it, and Lndy Agnen, ni the window to the stairs were not then r. Slie was not hurt, vayinto the country, faithful peasants, ulti- le of safety. Was she ricT" ulemoiselle," he said, laughing; "hut I fear her desceudants do not all slmre her courage." "But I might, if it was in time of war," said Hdlfenc, gravely. " That makes a great diilvrence in one's courage." " Wo have kept our ghost-stories np to an unconscionable hoar," said madamc, looking at her watch. "Mea chert, messieurs, it is af- ter one !" "After one!" said Eric. "There is a witchery about that tower. I begin to be- lieve it is haunted by gentle sprites, who so beguile us that the hours fly." " It is hauut«nu ler, in the daintiest 8KVKX YEARS AND HAIR. 119 of morning costnmes, smiling and fair and sweet as a seraph, and that opposite her was Monsienr Eric, absorbed in tlie words and smile. When the carriage stopped, ho turned quickly, and, seeing Nanette, uncov- ered his head and bowed with the most kind- ly courtesy. Yet when they had passed on, Nanette thought the sunshine had grown dark, and the air chill and cheerless. Ris- ing with a shiver, she went into the house, and stood warming herself at the fire. In her mind she was going over and over again the glimpse she had caught of lldlfeno's beau- tiful, happy face, and of Eric, handsome and graceful and courteous as a prince. Madame was entirely left out of the picture, thougli she was riclily attired, and hod smiled and bowed to Nanette with the perfectiou of graceful condescension. Making pictures was not, however, all that occupied her active mind. She was reflecting how she could see and speak to Eric for an hour or so, without awalieuing her father's suspicious. She resolved that, however slie might accomplish it, she muni see him, eveu once. Consequently, at dusk that same evening, Erie, standing in the morning - room of the ch&tea\i, looking thoughtfully out of the window, was star- 180 SEVEN TEAR8 AND MAIR. tied by a servant, who banded him a piece of coarse paper. It contained the words : "Nanette is in great trouble. Have pity on her grief, and, in your goodness, come and assist her." He read it with his back turned to the lackey, who stood waiting for tlie answer. He knit his brows, he bit his lip, then, turn- ing to the servant, asked, "Who brought this paper t" "A boy, nionsienr," answered the ser- vant. " A boy T Very good ; there is no answer : yon may go." The man left the room. Then Eric began to ponder on the strange message he bad received. He could not imagine what her grief could be ; however, he resolved to go. It was not in his nature to refuse help to any woman who might reqnire it. At din- ner he said nothing of his intention, but when it was over, simply stated that he was going down to tlie village. He fancied he saw a cloud on his friend's face, and being aware of his secret, feared that he suspected. When he reached the inn, Nanette was wait- ing for him. It was a mild, calm night, tliougk it was still March. Nanette whis- pered to him, AMD MAIR. banded him a piece itaiiiod tlie words : trouble. Have pity your goodness, come back turned to the ting for the answer, it his lip, then, turn- laper t" answered the ser- ; there is no answer : n. Then Erie began age message he hod t imagine what her r, he resolved to go. re to refuse help to require it. At din- f his intention, buii y stated that he was tge. He fancied he nd's face, and being id that he suspected. n, Nanette was wait* % mild, calm night, ch. Nanette whig- I SKVBN TEARS AND MAIR. 121 "We counot go in; the room is full. I conld not speak to yon there." "As you please, Nanette," he answered, briefly, feeling vaguely uncomfortable at this arrangement; "but it would ho better if you could have explained uiattera to me iu-doors, where Dame Lucille is." " She must not know," she replied, hur- riedly ; " that would never do." "Well," he said, kindly, "tell me as brief- ly as possible, my good Nanette, what trou- bles you and how I can assist you." " How can I make you understand, mon- sieur t" she said, with downcast eyes. "It is so hard to begin." "Very well, then," ho said, smiling, "I shall begin. Is it some little love-affair t" " Well, monsieur," said the girl,liesitating- ly, " Milord Douglas has — has asked me to — " "Milord Douglas," said Eric, becoming grave at once. "Ahl that is auother mat- tor. You know, of course, how many objec- tions there are to such a union f" " I know," she said, in a low voice. " Being but lately restored to his proper rank," continued Eric, " it is the more expe- dient for him to choose a wife in his own station." " Oh, monsienr, you are cruel !" said N»- i 122 SEVEN YKAns AND MAIH. nette, clasping her Lands ; " you do not think of me !" "I do think of yon, my poor girl!" said Eric, wiirmly; "and I tell yon you would not be happy in such an alliance !" A faint gleam of hope entered her heart. Why should ho be so averse to the match, unless he had some personal motive for opposing itf Qnito unconscious of her thoughts, Eric went on : "Just an tho relatives and friends of Mad- emoiselle Douglas consider it best for her to marry Viscount Stewart, and so increase tho wealth and power of two ancient houses. Take my advice, then, and refuse to marry Viscount Douglas, if yon wish to bo hap- py." "Nanette! IVanotte!" cried a hoarse voico from the door, "where are you roaming to at this time oC night ? Come in, I tell yon !" "They aro calling me," cried Nanette, bursting into tears, " and I have not yet hoard your advice." "I will come again," cried Eric, impul- sively, completely subdued by her tears. "Shall I say to-morrow morning?" "As you will," she said, hesitatingly. " Well, then, to-morrow before noon, if the weather bo good ; if not, ou tho following I AND HAIR. Is; "you do not think , ray poor girlT'enid tell you you woiihi n alliance !" po entered lier heart, averse to the match, personal motive for unconscious of her 8 and friends of Mad- ider it best for her to t, and so increase the two ancient houses, and refuse to marry on wish to bo hap- cried a hoarse voice are you roaming to Come in, I tell yon!" mo," cried Nanette, lud I faavo not yet " cried Eric, impul- lued by her tears, morning ?" id, hesitatingly. w before noon, if the >t, ou the following SEVEN I'EAltS AND MAIR. 123 morning. Then I will see what I can do for you." " You are an angel, monsieur !" said Na- nette, fervently. "Far frouj it, petite," ho said, laughing; " very far from it." He turned away, just as Dame Lucille's unmusical voice called Nanette iigaiu more lustily than before. When the girl wont in, she was questioned closely. "Who wero you talking to T" cried the dame, sharply. At tirst Nanette would give no answer. But it was wrung from her that Monsieur Eric had come down from the chillean to see her. Tiio gossips present shook their heads. Dame Lucille dismissed her \Yith a, sharp cull' on the ear, and Nanette retired to dream blissful dreams of the morning of sun- shine that was to bring her lover, beautiful and noble as the heroes of the fairy tales. Next nioruing, when Eric arose aiul looked out, it was raiuing in torrents, pouring in a straight, steady stream, that gave no prom- ise of speedy cessation. Ho was not very sorrj' that his second interview with Na- nette was thus postponed. "What dreadful weather!" said mndame, as bo entered the breakfast-room ; " and fau- f^ym--' 124 8EVKN YKAIW AND MAIR. oy, tliis hondstroiig Robert insists on ridinir over to tlio Stewart estate 1" * "Yon will btive rongh weather, Donclas » To" fSW"""""" ■"""""•' >-'i»» " Such advice from you, Eric !" said Donir- las- yon,onco the most daring ilsbor oa the coast !" "Hough weather never troubled us in the old days at I- oula " said Eric, turning at once to Douglas, readily sympathizing with bis allusion to the past. "I should think not," replied Douglas. But as to my visit, I must really go I "iellT "" '''"' """«"' ■""' ''^'y «'« r„"^?/?'"" ^l""'^' Monsieur Eric," said Huld be destroyed!" yon must be sorry. go done f" of," said Douglas ; low OS hard as this. ." t on his great-coat, BRVEN TEARS AND MAIR. 125 and, tnniing up the collar, wont out into the storm. After he had driven away, the ladies sat down to their embroidery. H6i^ne chat- ted away, her meiTy laugh ringing through the rooms, her chihlish face growing bright and animated as she talked. Tiirough the latticed windows of the room they could see the court-yard, with the perennial plants, and the vases, and the sundial. The trees were fairly dripping with ruin, the basins of the fountains overflowing, the high stone -wall drenched to a dark, gloomy gray. After a while the conversation turned on Foula. Eric told them many a strange tale of the island itself, and those inunodiately in the vicinity, with which from boyhood he had been familiar. He described the hut where Douglas had passed his cheerless youth, with no other companion than the crazy woman. He spoke of his own happy fireside, his mother's talcs, which hitd whiled away the long, dark winter nights in the by' gone years at Fonla. The legends and the ballads, the atmosphere of poetry and ro-^ mance, in which he had been brought n]/*, were not forgotten, and his listeners vreice entranced. He told them of the home-liife on the island; the qnaint customs of the simple islanders ; the beauty of that north- BBVKN YEAIW AND MAIR. crn region, its ^vcir.l ligbu, and Kloams, nn.l ifiory ; tlio Htrango nicteow timt dnrtrd throiiK h tho 8ky at night, and, as the i«lan.l. era mi.d, bon. tlic npirits of tl.o vikings, dead t .oumuMls of y..nrH,ou m.Hsions of war and l.lnod tlnoiigl, tlio gloom of midnight. H« told f hem mw tho ,„oon looked down with tonlol.l light and gi„,y „„ t|,„ ^..^^ ,,,, .^^ Thoro '""*•" K^wn rocks, and iho pebbly "It is a glorions sight when a storm sweeps over it," he «aid, "Htirring it to dciully rage; tho waves, rising as hicli as moiiuUins, lashing tliomselvos against the cold stiernness of the rocks, which they cov- cr with foaming whiteness. Tho sky and «ea are dull, leaden-gray, with a lino of h.rid light hencath the horizon, and a snspicion ot dark, dismal wrecks, far out where tho storm rages in unchecked fury." blet asked Jldifene, laying down her work. s,fi|ce '^' "■ '"'el't, childish eyes upon his *■ " No, inndemoisolle," said Eric ; " there are t mos w-hen it is calm, and soft, and fair as so Jh ^' ' f^r"" n'«"riow. The waves come 8o»ftly ,„ hke waving grass, at the touch of tae* wmd; the sun lights with its gold tho I AND MAin. Iits, and jjlonms, and eteors that darted t, and, as tlio itdaiul- of tlio vikiiijrs,,iead r..88ioii8 of war and n of niidiiight. Ho I lo(jkno. "And think. Monsieur Erie, 1 have miver seen it! Hut tell us more of it." "At evening," contiuncd Eric, " it is like fairy-land, reminding one of tho'Arabiau Nights' and their enchanted realms. There are fields of molten gold; there are rivers of ruby and carbuncle; there are mines of diamond, emerald, topaz, ami sapphire; there are qinuries of gleaming metals : and the sunset skies above are rich antl rare; now dark and sombre, now clear and bright — Hecks of amber on a gray ground; streaks of pale green skirting dark purple clouds. Once I remember it was a lovely afternoon ; tho water was bright green, but when tho sun began to set it changed to steel-gray. The sun wont down in a dazzling blazo of gold, but, as it drew near its watery bed, it turned to liery crimson. A Jlusli came over one portion of tho sea, till it gleamed like the red heart of a rnby ; tho other half of tho water lay still and cold, and in its sol- emn grayuess sailed a boat, outlined against ' ! BRVBN YKAIU AND MAIR. the «ky. It nailed on and on till it came within tliu red rudittnuo of tlio ({liiwiiig west, and, civtchiiiK tliu colors of tliut uii- cbaiitud reuliii, |{l*i<>iued n fuiry bark of inotIior-of-|iuarl." " How tixqiiiiiitoly you dcHoribo the hcoiio !" said iiiodauio. " It is a traut to bonr you talk." And she was riRht. Ho had hold thorn spellbound, so thoroughly wiia bo imbued with the power of his subject; for neither time, nor travel, nor oxperiuiico could over cradicute the vein of poetry thot liiy so deep in Erie's nature. It biul come down to him from tlie occupnuts of anccstriil tombs; it hod been inherited from his motlior; it was inwoven with bis very nature. Hence his face grow grave or mirthful, stern or soft, as the occasion demanded, bis mobile features expressing every emotion. iWlfeuo was happy that morning — hap- py in a vague, unroasouiug way which sbo could not understand. It was pleasant to sit there, secure from the wind and rain, lis- tening to the voice she had learned to oou- slder the most musical on earth, watching the features of a face dearer and handsomer to her than any face she had over seen. Ut- terly unconscious of all this, £rio felt it a MUM AND MAIR. atul on till it came )C0 (>f til" Rluwiiig a cdlui'H of tliut eii- d n fuiry bark of I (IcRoribo tlie Hcone !" a trout to hoar you Ho had liold thorn :hly WII8 ho imbued Hid>i(!ct ; for noithcr iperiuiico could over etry that lay so d«ep aI coiiiu down to him nnccHtral tombs; it II his tnothnr; it was nature. Ilunce hUi :hfiil, stern or soft, ns , his luobilo features [)n. that morning — hap- uing wuy which she It wns pleasant to 10 wind and rain,lis- Iiad learned to cou- 1 on earth, watching Barer and handsomer a liad over seen. Ut- 11 this, Erie felt it a 0RVKN YEARS AND MAIR, 159 pleasant task to entertain as best ho conlil his kind and hotpitabiu hostoHN, and tliii rliarniing young girl, whoso cliildisli beauty and naivete be ho much ndniirt:d. Hut sho was never further from bim than on that morning of rain, when his thoughts were back in distant Foula. , Douglas did not return till late that night, and Erie conseiiueutly did not see bim ; but he thought be heard hiui pacing his room, till ho fell asleep himself, and forgot every- thing. Next morning was such a one as often follows ruin — u nuirnlDg of fresh, brac- ing air, and warm suidight. When Erie came down-stairs, he found Douglas stand- ing on the hcartii with bis buck to the fire. His face was pule, and ho bud a deep wrinkle between his brows. "Good -morning, Douglas," said Eric, en- tering. "Good-morning," answered Douglas, with a sort of constraint. "Are you not wellt" askod Eric. " Oh yes, well enough," said ho. " I am a little out of sorts, thut's all." As he spoke be walked over to the table and took up a paper, so that nothing more passed between them. Wheu breakfast was over, Erie went out. As bo passed through » 130 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. the conrt-yard, Douglas called to liim care- leesly, " Off to the village, Eric t" " Yes," Eric replied ; " I am going down to the inn." " To the inn V said Donglas. " Yes ; I want to see Nanette." A cloud gathered on Douglas's face, but be made no further remark. Eric strolled along the wintry roads, enjoying the pleas- ant air, and when he reached the inn, found Nanette waiting for him as before. " Let us walk a little way," said Nanette. " They are watching me, I think." " Watching you V said Eric, in surprise. "Why!" " Because they discovered that yon were here last night." Eric looked annoyed. However, he gave no sign, but simply said, " Well, let us lose no time. Tell me what I can do to help you." She glanced at him. He was looking straight before him, his handsome face flushed by his rapid walk, his closely cut hair blowing a little in the wind, his figure set off to great advantage by his well-fitting morning costume, the perfection of careless ease : one hand was in the pocket of his coat, tl n u ui w a 111 P< sc ill hi m is ti fr ai in AND MAIR. « called to Lim care- 3riot" ; "I am going down Douglas. Nanette." 1 Douglas's face, but jmark. Eric strolled 8, enjoying the pleas- eacbed tbo iun, found m as before. way," said Nanette, le, I think." aid Eric, in surprise. )vered that yon lyere I. However, be gave a, 1 time. Tell me what D. He was looking bis handsome face (valk, bis closely cut 1 tlie wind, bis figure ige by bis well-fitting perfection of careless the pocket of his coat, SEVE.V YEARS AND HAIR. 131 the other holding his cane. Nanette thought no one could be handsomer in face and fig- ure thau be, and a more competent judge of manly attractions might well have agreed Avith her. She glanced at hira, hesitated, and said, in a low voice, " I have asked monsieur's advice. What muot I say to Milord Douglaa i" " Nanette," cried Eric, turning to her im- petuously, "let your heart prompt yon. I see clearly that this is not a matter for my interference." To his astonishment, she burst into tears. " What does this mean f " asked be. "Oh, monsieur, I cannot, I do not love Lim !" "You do not!" said Eric; "well, that makes the matter very simple. Your course is clear. You would not marry for ambi- tions motives ?" " No, no !" she said. Eric was relieved. Ko would fain see his friend married to a lady of his own rank. " Tell me, Nanette," he said, " do you love any one else ?" She did not answer, but continued weep- ing. "What of that handsome peasant, I 132 SGVBX YEARS AND MAIR. Jacques, whom Dame Lucille used to say your father intended for you f" "They persecute me!" she 8aid,yritb sud- den vehemence ; " they are cruel to me, be- cause I will not marry bim ; and oli, I can- not do it!" "Then there is some other young peasant who has your heart," said Eric. " Well, take courage; your father may relent. But tell me who is the fortunate youth T" "I cannot," said Nanette; "ho is more cruel than all the rest. Ho would despise me if he knew. I fear he loves some one else." He looked at her a little curiously: her eyes wore flxed upon the ground. "Why, poor child!" said Eric, smiling in- voluntarily," who is the hard-hearted swain f ' " He is a great lord, and lives in a cha- teau," she said, in a very low voice. " A lord !" said Erie, starting. " Then you do love the Douglas." "No," she said, "I do not love Milord Douglas." "Then it is Stewart," cried Eric. "But yon are mad, my poor Nanette ; he loves an- other." " It is not him," she said, iu a hurried voice. S AND MAIR. I Lncille nsod to say "or you 1" i !" abe said, with aod- y are cruel to me, be- y him ; and oh, I can- e other young peasant aid Eric. "Well, take may relent. But tell to youth t" Iano( te ; " he is more it. Ho would despise ar he loves some oue k little curiously: her slio ground. ' said Eric, smiling in- e hard-hearted swain f ' d, and lives in a ch&- sry low voice. , starting. " Then yoa [ do not love Milord rt," cried Eric. " But Nanette ; he loves an- he said, in a hurried SEVKX YBARS AND MAIR. 133 " Tiion who — " ho began. Ho looked at her, and did not finish. Men- tally he cursed his own stupidity, as ho read her secret in her deep agitation. " I will not ask who it is," he said, grave- ly. " Your secret is safest with youraelf." " But it is no longer mine," she said, vehe- mently. " You know it, and despise nie !" He turned away, and seemed to watch the shadows of the trees. He was deeply shock- ed and pained. He said at last, " You are excited, Nanette, and do not stop to consider. Let in talk of something else." " You despise me now !" sho burst out again. " Oh, how mad, how foolish 1 have been, and how nnmaidenly!" " Stop, Nanette, I implore you," said Eric ; "you are lowering yourself. The knowl- edge I havo most unwillingly gained will be forgotten. Yon have acted childishly, but henceforth you will be a woman, never forgetting your own self-respect." She covered her face with her hands. " I wish you had spared me the pain of saying such words to yon, Nanette," con- tinued Eric. " I would rather have cut my right hand off." As she seemed overcome, he thought it better to go. ^^^^^^» SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. "You will doubtless prefer to be alone, Nanette," be said ; " so I shall bid you good- bye now. You must never think with any regret or pain of to-day, and I shall always be your devoted friend." Erie pursued his way homeward, leaving Nanette to indulge in a burst of passionate grief. The fact of being admired by the lord of the castle had so turned her sil- ly little head that she bad fancied all men were ready to throw tlieinselves at her feet. Hence her bitter disappointment and morti- fication, and hence her uuniaidenly forward- ness, for which she was so severely punished. Eric himself was full of perplexity and of vexation. Ho knew the busy tongues of the village gossips, and feared the matter might get atloat. Moreover, be was sorry for Nanette ; she was so young, so unsophis- ticated, and bad been so carelessly brought up. Meanwhile, Hdl^ne was out among the al- leys of the park, from which the snow had been nearly all washed away by the heavy rain of the previous day. She was warm- ly wrapped up, and enjoyed to the full the spring-like brightness of the weather. Hence, as soon as her cousin Henri came in sight, she cried oat to biin,eDtbnsia8ticalIy, AND MAIR. I prefer to bo alone, I shall bid you good- lever think with any y, and I shall always » y homeward, leaving » burst of passion ate ing admired by the 1 80 turned her sil- had fancied all men lemsclves at her feet. )oiutinent and morti- unniaidcnly forward- so severely punished, ill of perplexity and ' the busy tongues of d feared the matter ireover, he was sorry young, so unsophia- so carelessly brought as out among the al- which the snow had 1 away by the heavy ay. 3he was warm- enjoyed to the full ;ues8 of the weatuor. sousin Henri came in xim, enthusiastically, SEVEN YEARS AND HAIR. 135 "Oh, cousin, cousin! is it not a lovely day 1 Everything is so bright, and fresh, and sweet!" "Yes, everything, via lelle," said Henri, " not excepting the dear little mistress of all these broad lands." " Hush, Henri !" she said ; " do not let us talk of ourselves, v.hen there are bo many beautiful things to talk about and admire." " I know what I admire most," said Hen- ri. "All these things are beautiful in their way, but, mon amje, what is equal to a cer- tain charming demoiselle who stands among these frosted trees like the queen of an en- chanted domain !" " Henri," she said, " if yon continue, I shall send you into the house to toll your compli- ments to Marraine." " Would you be so cruel," ho said, " ft8 to ban ish me from your presence t" "You are perverse, cousin," she said. " Yon Hatter because it torment* me." " Where is your friend the Laplander this morning f " ho asked. " Oh, why will yon not remember, consm, said H<516ne, indignantly, "bo is not a Lap- lander f " Well, »'ini/)or»e,»tOK ange," said the count, breaking a twig as he spoke from one of the V 136 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. bnsUcB. " By-tlie-way, your brother is an uncommon good follow." "Ob, CouHiu Henri, you like liinil" cried H61i)ne. " In be not kind, and goud, and handsome ?" "All the rest, mignonne, but not handsome," said the young man. "The Laplander has certaiuly all the beauty. But where is bet" " Gone to the village," said II61fene, a little absently. She was not looking at her cous- in then, or she might have observed, a mali- cious smile about his month. "I thought as much," said the count; "his penchant for the village is common talk." "Penchant for the village!" said H€lfene, opening her eyes wide. "Why, he never 8x>eak8 of it, and seldom goes there." "Eh Men," said the viscount, shrugging his shoulders. " It is clear, my pretty cous- in, he does not tell you bis secrets." " What secrets V cried H^l^ne, pettishly. " Cousin, you are so provoking !" " So you are provoked at the idea of the Laplander having a secret," said the vis- count. " Yet it is his own affair, n'ett ee pas, ma petite t" "I do not know what yon are talking about," said U616ne, a little crossly. AND MAIB. your brotbor ia an oil like bini!" cried Liiid, aud good, and ', but not bandsome," The Laplander has But where is bet" ' said II616ne, a little looking nt her cons- ive observed a niali- tntb. I," said tbo count; village is common llage!" Baid H€lfeno, . "Why, be never goes there." viscount, shrugging oar, my pretty cous- lis secrets." d H(51fene, pettishly. roking !" 1 at tbo idea of the crct," said the vis- vu aiTair, n'ett cepas, at yon are talking ttle crossly. SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. 137 " Well, a woman will have her way ; and, aft«r all, the whole village knows it— that monsieur tbo Laplander is making a fool of himself over tbo little maid of the inn." H6lfeuo felt bewildered. Somehow bor cousin's words hurt her. " Chacun a son gout," continued the vis- count; "but it would not be mine. What a wife to bring homo to his people !" Hdlfene felt as if the sunlight and tbo mild, refreshing air were fur more bleak and dreary than yesterday's rain and storm. She tried to speak, but could not. "You do not like that, via belle," be said. " Every demoiselle thinks each young man her proper prey." " Cousin," said Marguerite, proudly, "you do not know what you are saying. Monsieur Eric is our guest: I do not want him spoken hardly of, that is all." " I do not speak bardly of him when I say be loves this village girl," said the vis- count, more seriously. " No, but yon jeer at bim, aud I will not bavo it: he is my brother's friend," she said. " Talking of love, won ange," said the ^-is- connt, " I know some ono desperately in love with yourself, but be finds you so cruel that be dares not speak of it. Seriously, M \ 138 8EVEX YEAJIS AND MAIR. Hflfeno, yon know I mean myself. What do yea say to it!" " Ob, coiiuin," sbe said, very palo and gen- tle now, " I am so sorry I Oli, I wish I bad known!" Ho saw slio was frigbtened, so bo said, " Consider it as a jest, nm petite : sometime, wben you are older, wo will speak of it again." " But no, consin," sbe said, earnestly, " I know it is not a jest ; and you ninst never speak of love to me again, even wben I am mncb, mucb older." He saw sbe meant wbat she said, bnt was not mncb alarmed for tbe ultimate success of bis suit. He readily promised not to mention tbo obnoxious tbeme, witb a very decided mental reservation, tbongb, and bade her good-morning just in time to exchange a salute witb Eric, who was coming up tbe avenue. After he had gone, H61fene walked slowly toward the house, thinking of wbat she had hoard. Madame, who was at her embroid- ery in one of tlie windows, called to her, " Are you coming in soon, too petite t I want yon." " I am coming at once, Marraine," answer- ed H616ne. M^Skfi/WfiV } AXD MAIR. Ban myself. What do id, very palo and gon- 'y ! Oil, I wiuh I had htened, bo ho said, I, ma petite: soniotinie, wo will speak of it ho said, earnestly, " I and yon ninst never gain, even Avhen I am rhat sho said, bnt was the iiltintato success lily promised not to IS theme, with ft very ktioD, thongh, and bade t in time to exchange 10 was coming up the ri615ne walked slowly iking of what sho had I was at her embroid- lows, called to her, in soon, ma petite t I ice, Marraine," answer- 8KVKN YEARS AND MAIR. 139 She came in, and madamo did not look at hor closely enough to perceive that » little of her usual joyonsnoss was wanting. " You said you wanted me, Marraine T " Yes ; sit down hero at my feet," said ma- (Ini " I have something to say to you." i- lid not ask what, oud madaine began, a lit nervously, " .Now you must not be alarmed nor vexed atwliatIaHiabouttosay,i)ene," said niadame, "and I will bathe your head with eatt gedatlf." "That may relieve you," said Eric: "I trust it will." ' Her face, as she raised it to him, looked pitiful somehow, and ho felt a compassion deeper than the occasion warranted. Per- i AND MAin. V — I will novor iimr- T, iievor!" lalo, jft) prolty child- wikmI ho iitferly (foiio, lisnry to Imvo taken J lookml At hor in 8ho turned to replj', n the tliK^shuld, iin- iici) or nitiro. Eric," hIio said, gra- lo Ildli^no doi-8 not 8." ressinRHdlftno, with ouccrn ou liig face, niademoisollo t la 1" and II(;i^no felt tLe il, smiling faintly, very rancb, thank iileuil, TTdl&ne," said itho your head with ron,"8aid Eric; "I d it to liim, looked ) felt (V conipassioa n warranted. Per- amyWiitmaaijai 1 8BVKN YGAHS AND MAIIU liaps lie liwl hoanl her passionate wonls, and suspected thatHio cause lay deeper than in any jdiysii;"! sntrering. After a few more words of sympathy, 1'" retired, and left nm- dame to soothe her patient aa fur as lay iu her power. "Forgive me, Marraino," she said, raising hor eyes wearily ; " I spoke so hastily. But you know 1 do not wish to marry for many years to come ; and even then, I think, if you please, 1 would rather it should not be Ilonri." "Very well, dear, very well," said ma- dame ; " you shall marry whoever you plooae. But rest now ; you look palo and tired." " I am tired, MaiTttine," she answered. And modamo said no more. She had not told Hdlene that the worniDg was suggest- ed by Douglas, who feared Eric's iufluouco ou his sister. Tiiat night Eric hod rnther a stormy in- terview with Douglas. The latter came iu lat«, having spent the afternooi and even- ing at the Stewart estate, where his cousin had taken pains to instil all sorts of suspi- cions against Eric into his mind, lie open- ly charged his friend with having trifled with Nanette's affections to gratify his own con- ceit, and then left her to the ridicule of her friends a^Jrt corapuuious. Eric justified hini- • ' iVW». '!! akW.W ' m8*U ■itJl!, ' ' ' ..J ' .l.l.WWJII|J I MI. i »l' Itt 8EVKN YEARS AND MAIIl. aelf as well 08 Iio coiilil ; but, as Im was bouml ill honor t<» rovoul nothing of wliiit liuil piws- oiij{ln» lit to tlio Htory. Al- Mlou of tliu umttor, 10 Nulijocf, I may nn TOW iiioriiiiig I shall ..." I Douglas, in amnze- uts — wliut will they mswercd Kric ; " but »t in right. Nanette imo, but loLallgivo in the tower struck lb, the thoughts of is, the roouj in the loighboring church, upon the table and ouldth'i^ I, at least, !" f friend," said Eric, iis'h shonhlitr. "Wo d help ns nil!" avo the room, Erio HUVEN YKAltS AND MAIlt. 143 " Do not think hardly of nie, Douglas, by the memory of our boyhoo back to the one you I) Nanette," he said, qui- aiiy one — in the way d if I do not love you 'e, I will try so to act the want of the deep- nay bring. You love not!" 11 that I do," she an- leai't you despise me." ' he said, with patient little episode of yes- orgotteu forever t I call the child, but to >u do not know how I nd made up my mind , " belongs to the past. , is anxious to do pen- ly of the child. An- 1 you be my wife f" for some time; then 1 SEVEN YEARS AND MAIK. 147 " To-day our public betrothal must take place. Under present circumstances, I do not wish to remain long at the chateau. After that ceremony I shall go away for a while, then return to take you with n>o to my homo far over the sea." She shivered a little, but answered, qni- etl.V. , .„. .i. " If it mnst be to-day, I am willing. At what hour V "I shall have to see the cnr6 at once, said Eric ; " then I will let you know. And I beg of you, meantime, to try and be hap- py, and not to consider this matter in the light you do." "You want mo to be happy at your ex- pense," she said, drearily. "And to-day is the betrothal t Very well." After a few more words, he was going out, when she detained him. "Have it to-day," she said, with strange eagernes-s ; " do no't let it be postponed." "It shall not be postponed," said Eric, flnnly, wondering a little. He had a slight altercation with the cur6 s house-keeper, one of those amiable individ- uals who never gave any information it was in her power to withhold. She admitted, after much discussion, that the cur6 was at 148 SEVEN TEARS AND MAIR. home, anil, after fiirtber persnasion, allowed Eric to enter. The cur<5, recognizing him ftt ouce, greeted liim very kindly, jnid lis- tened with the grcateat interest to his sto- ry. Eric gave him only the merest out- lines, but the cur6 shrewdly suspected there was more in the matter than at first appear- ed. Ho advised him to act with great cau- tion ; to consider his parents and their prob- able opinion of such a match, speaking with such fatherly kindness that it brought the tears to Eric's eyes. Still, he said that the betrothal must take place that day, and that it was his special wish it should be made as public as possible. The cur(5 consented to everything when he saw that Eric was de- termined to carry the matter through. Eric, leaving him, returned to the inn to tell Na- nette the hour, then wont home to the chflr teau. Madame and H61fene had just finished an nnnsually late breakfast. They greeted him ■with laughing Inquiries, bat he noticed that H615no was a little more thoughtful than usual. " It is indeed a lovely day," he said, in an- swer to a remark of madame's ; " and I have every reason to be glad, because it is my be- trothal-day." e( h 18 AND MAIR. er persuasion, allowed curd, recoRiiizing him very kindly, mid lis- !8t interest to liis sto- oiily tlio merest out- ewdly suspected there ir than nt first appenr- to act with great cau- arcnts and tlieir proh- niatch, speaking with s tliat it brought the Still, ho said that the lace that day, and that I it should he made as 'he cnr<5 consented to iw that Eric was de- natter through. Eric, to the inu to tell Na- ent home to the chAr » had just finished an St. They greeted him !8, but he noticed that acre thoughtful than y day," he said, in an- idame's; "and I have I, because it is my be- 8BVEN YEAK8 AND MAIR. 149 "Your betrothal -day!" cried madame. "To whom t" Hdlfeuo did not say anything, only listou- cd, feeling .1 strange bewilderment. " To Nanette, the innkeeper's daughter, he answered, (luietly. " It is a shame !" said madame, vchoment- ly. "You are infatuated— you are mad! What will your father say t and your beauti- ful, stately mother, of whom Douglas speaks with such reverence t" A shade of sadness fell over his face. " I trust they will say I have done well, he answered. , , • t Madame could not be persuaded into thinking well of such a marriage. How- ever, in the heat of her discourse she was called away on some household busmess. When she had gone Eric walked to the window, looked out a moment, then turning again, said to Hdliine, " You, at least, mademoiselle, will con- gratulate me; you have not the prejudice of caste." , , , "Caste cannot be considered whore two people love each other," she said, quietly. "Loving her as you do, I congratulate you. " Thank you," he said, earnestly. 1 am glad to have your good wishes." 'tmm 150 8KVEN VEAHS AND MAIR. She fluslied slightly, tlio color creeping up licr fair glrliHli throat mid into lier face. " I hope you will bo very happy," she said, ear- nestly, "and I know you will. Nanette is both pretty and good." " Yes, she is pretty and good," he sr ' \ ab- sently. " But, mademoiselle, I must now sny good-bye. I cannot return here after the betrothal." "Nof" she said, asking no further ques- tion. " Then it is really good-bye f" " Really good-bye," he said. "Shall we see you again in TouraineT" she asked. "Wlien I return for the wedding," he an- swered, briefly. "I forgot," she said; "of course we shall see you then." "Mademoiselle," he said, turning back from the door, " will you think of mo some- times in your prayers t You are so good and innocent, yonr prayers must be heard." "I will pray for you," she said, simply, and he departed. There was the balminess and freshness of spring in the air that afternoon— its gentle radiance, its mild sunshine, its tender, thrill- i"g joyonsuess. The church was crowded with villagers, all eager, excited, and curl- 8 AND MAIR. , tlie color creeping np and into lier face. " I Imppy," she said, ear- you will. Nanette is mdgood/'hesr^ab- >i8olle, I must now say return Lore afler the :ing no further quc?- lly good-bye!" lie said. again in Tourainet" tbe wedding," he aii- ; " of course we shall said, turning back )u think of mo sotne- T You are so good S'ers must be heard." )u," sbo said, simply, iiess and freshness of ifternooii — its gentle ine, its tender, thrill- shurch Avas crowded 3r, excited, and curi- 8EVEX YKAK8 AND MAIK. 151 ons. The Douglas pew contained inadame and madomois..lle: Kobcrt was nowhere to be seen. As tl.o young couple passed up the aisle, every one observed that Nanette x^^ deathly palo, and that her eyes sboue ITixX Btra'nle lustre. Scarcely a glance was given at Eric, who was quiet, and self Tontaiucd, and grave. When they reached the altar, the priest put the nsuai q"««t'2t to Eric. They were answered promptly and flnnly, and the priest turned to Nanette, xo their astonishment, she said, so clearly a.ul distinctly that it was heard in the remotest corner of the chnrch : , , , .„4i,„f " I do distinctly and solemnly declare that I will not pligbt my troth to the gentleman beside me, known in the village as Monsieur Eric. He has most nobly and generously offered to marry me out of pity. I declaro before God's altar that I AviU not accept tbe sacrifice, and that he is free." Eric stood bewildered. He was only roused when Nanette fell, faintiijg. Ho raised her in his arms most tenderly, and, forgetting everything else, carried her out of fhe church and to her home. She lay in a long swoon, from which sbe recovered ouly to CO into another. . Eric remained at the inn till it was quito 158 SEVEN YEAB8 AND MAIB. loto; tboii, being infonnod that she soometl ft little hotter, ho doimrted. He had matle lip his mind to cross the river and (hid lodg- ings ou tho opposite shore. It was n dark night. Tho moon was gone down, and even the stars were somewhat dim, scarcely re- lieving tho intense darkness. It was very silent on tho rivor-bank, and not a boai; to bo seen. At last, as ho waited anxiously, ho saw a solitary bark approaching tlie shore. '1 ho boatman was alouo, and Eric hailed hill). "Will you take mo across! I am anx- ious to get over to-night." The niau answered afflrmatively in a sort of uinaiod voice that sent a chill tiirongh Eric's heart. However, he jumped into the boat, and thoy were soon speeding out into the water. Not a sound but tho plash of the oars broke the silence. The boatman was so mucli wrapped up, and the lower part of his face so nmlHed by the cloak, that Eric could not catch a glimpse of him. On they sped, through tho night and through the darkness. At last they heard noises which warned them of the approach of a steamboat. It came on swiftly, and as it passed them Eric caught a glimpse of his companion's face at last. With amazement h< tfl W St tl til fr ei T nj lii tl It m ci tl h di si E T 0( a tl AND MAIR. led that alie soctned rtcil. lie Imd mode rivor ftiid lind lod>{- oro. It was n dark [ouo down, and even at dim, scarculy ro- kness. It was very c, and not a boau to vaitcd anxiously, ho roachiug the shore. 10, and Erie hailed icrosat I am anx- Irraativ'oly in a sort int a chill tiirough ho jumped into the 11 speeding out into I hut the plash of lice. The boatman up, and the lower il by the cloak, that limpseofhim. On night and through they heard noises the approach of a 1 swiftly, and as it >t a glimpse of his With amazement 8KVEN YEAHS AND MAIR. 153 lie recognized Douglas. lie had not time to speak or givi! any sign of his discovery. Whether it wii.i the swell of the passing steamboat or what, they never knew, but the boat begun to lill with water; then it turned rapiilly and upset. Eric seized his friend, anil by great good-fortune both wore enabled to eat.'h a linn hold of the boat. Then followed one fearful moment, full of agoidzing suspense, of solemn thonghl, of lightning-like retrospection, and they saw that the boat could not snjjport them both. It strained and creaked, and in another mo- ment would have snapped ; but Eric, quick as tlionght, cried, " Keep a firm hold, old fellow ! I will take care of myself." He let go, and as ho was swept away in the darkness, Douglas heard, or thought ho heard, his voice coining back faintly, " If 1 die, let this be reparation I" But the accident had been seen from the deck of the little steamer. As quick as pos- sible it put back, and succeeded in saving Douglas just as he was becoming exhausted. They searched for Erie, but no trace of him could be ft)nnd. The Loire flowed on, dark and silent, and the steamboat swept toward the shore. Douglas lost cousciousuess, and lo4 SEVKN YKAnS AND MAIH. did not revive till lie had been broiiRht home to the cliAtcftii. Ho gnvo thom ii bii.f ac- oouut of what had occiiriod, n» hooh ns ho VTM dMo; but tho only comment ho modo on it wnH, "A brnvti and loyal heart was bnriod to- night in tho Loire J and to eavo my life! to Bftvo my lifo!" imhm WH8 vory Hiloiit. Ilcr cbildiHlniPBs wan goiio; alio seemod more womanly. Sho cared for Douglas tenderly, making no com- ments on what had liappcncl, never men- tioning Kiic's name. She was Jiavo and re- signed ; accepting hia death as a crona in- deed, but Olio which was llower- wreathed. It was such a noble, licroic death to die— ji iltting ending to » pure and blameless lifo! And sho felt, someliow, as if ho would bo as near to hor in death as in life. Ho, tho only alteration visible in her face or manner was an increased Geriousness, and a greater gen- tleness and patience. Madame was loud in lier grief, especially at first; but Douglas was stricken, bowed to tho earth by a weight of snftering. Ho could not forget that this was tho last of all tho benellts a brave and gentle heart would confer on him. Ho thought bitterly cnongh of tho long, de- voted fiiocdship which nothing but death 111 fti k u: h C( w d ii ■n n ii g B AND MAIR. ml been brought home jftve them u brief ac- L'lineil, im hooii ns ho ly coiuinuut ho inado lioart was burled to- d to savo my lifu! to lit. Ilcr childiHhiiess nH)ro womanly, glio erly, nmking no coui- appcno'l, never inon- lio was aravo and ro- deatli as n eroHs in- ns llower- wreathed, iroic death to die — a e and bhnncless life! na if lie would bo as in lifo. Ho, tlio only • face or manner was H, and a greater gen- Madame was loud in ; first; bnt Donghis heeartli by ii weijjlit not forget that tliis beuotlta a brave and infer on him. Ho [h of the long, do- 1 nothing but death BBVEN YEAR8 AKD UAIB. 155 hail power to cliangc. TIio frank, handsome face haunted liiin eontinuuUy — tho violet eyes and yellow Imir. Meanwliilc, at tho inn Nanette \u\ all night long between 'ifo a d death. In her dultri- nui she calleil upon Erie to come and save her; then she shnditeringly repnlned hiui, conjuring him to leave her. Douglas, too, was mixed up in her wild fiMieies. Toward dawn sho seemed calmer; and as the morn- ing grow brighter and brighter, and the wood-liirk sang high in tho licavtMis, Na- nette was slee]>ing, lier long fair hair flow- ing loose upon the pillow, and iier breathing geutlo and natural. 166 MtVEN YSAB8 AND MAIIl. CFIAPTKIl XI. "Oh, tho mlKht of the ilretiKlh thnt dwcllii npart In the (loep, ducp cells ofii womau'ii lieiirt ! Little we know It, nnd mnn mny doom It la but thii liilo of nil Idle dream ; Uiit theio nrn Hprhijrs which are never dry, Uiit flow on 111 (llonco exhimetlemily j And there me chords which, If onco ye sound them, 1 he hourt where they dwell will shiver ronnd them." From the UeniMiK TiiK days passed by lionvily niid dreari- ly; tho wholt) villuRo Hccuind to bo under a cloud. Tbo trnBicttl futo of tho liaiidHoiuo young stranger, who bad made biniwilf gou- erally beh»vcd, was univeraully biinentod, and cast a gloom over every one. However, Nanette was slowly recovering ; and, when tho long suninior days came, was ublo to sit up even out-of-doors during tbo warm, sun- ny hours. Tbo sa forever. Think of ntcnt, having only a fore suflfering will bo rhy can I not come most imploringly, lie past, do not come," J make the sacriiico lemn, like those part- eathed coffins, where lis with a somblanco furtlier hope, nor joy, a with ours. BBVBN YEAH8 AND MAIR. 167 CHAPTER XII. " And look i\ while npon n picture. 'Tls of ft liidy In licr caillcit youth, The very Inst of her illustrloiiB race, ner Ze, bo lovely, yet bo arch, Ib full of mirth, The ovcrnowlngs of an innocent heart. Just as she looks there In her bridal dress. She is, nil geutleneeB, all gnyety, ,„„^„ 1 or orankH the favorite theme of every tonpic. u ow the day was come-the day the hour ; NOW, frownln,;, BmlUng. for the hundredth time. IJer indent lady mentor preached riecoium , And In the lustre of her youth she gave Her hand, with her heart in It, to him ^he Uwe^^J DURING the lovely days that followed, the young people at the cMteau made many exclusions to places in the vic.n.ty. Somo- tiuies they strayed away, and spout long, eZis to afternoons iu quiet forest nooks, gathering the scarlet loaves or late autumn flowers. The forests, no longer cold and dark ill %eir green gloom, like the vault- ed halls of the dead, wore warm and mel- low with a rich, deep glow, like mighty ca- thedrals, through whose painted windows F 168 8KVEX YKAR3 AND MAIR. Btreanicil tho siiu In niyrind colors. What brush of painter or whot pon of poet cuii catch tho goldon gh)ry of iv forest scene in tho antinnii t Tho coh)r8 blend into an iu- (lescribiiblo harmony, and tho f()Uaij;o Beoms toconsunio itself in HllinBthe human heart with a last deep senHO of tho bounty of nat- luc, and, like tho »>vii>i, whoso deuth-song in tho sweet'-'st, lends to its wanint; houvw a ra liere to argue r other Uohiiniena from ■with anger. The vis- ions of having provoked ch a degree, continued, ras always understood » my wife; and 1 1 wear i« vie, that you will have es you." Hdl&no, trying to speak I never be you." ied he, quickly, " unless I nameless adventurer, e with a peasant-girl." aid Hdlfeue, drawing her 8 lull height, the Dong- lier cheeks, " I will not 5 manifest <;ro88iei'eM of u future, when you wish so to a lady, take care F yonr remarks be other husband." SEVEN YEAUS Ai.D MAIR. 177 He stood like one iu a trance. Disap- poiutmont, rage, jealousy, were all at work •within him ; yet as H616no swept haughti- ly past him, ho lield ont his hands to her in mute appeal for forgiveness. That af- ternoon, before ho hift the chiltoau, he found courage to speak to her again. " I have behaved like a bete," he said, hum- bly ; " but oh, ma mignonne, it was jealousy ! I always knew how it would bo, and that I, in spite of my long, devoted love, would be thrown aside for a stranger. Forgive me, though, now, and 1 will never offend again." "Nor call Monsieur Eric a Laplander?" she said, smiling a gracious forgiveness, aud holding out both ]i ii lattices, to mingle with tho fragrant ai • of the October after- noon. Tho music ">unded sweet and sol- ema ; and the bell < the great tower pealed out its deep-toned 'olody. Nanette was pr(. -nfc at tho bridal. She still looked wan au(i wasted; her hair was brushed back softly under her peasant's cap; her dress wjs plain and quiet; she seemed content, and even happy. She was in the hall when i ho bride was departing. H61fene stopped and smiled upon her. " May I kiss you, Nanette V she said. As she spoke, she stooped and embraced her; then Nanette said, "May the good <■. ' give you every joy, to you and yonrs !" Tears were fallin7 from H616ne'8 eyes when she turned away. To Eric, Nanette said, with a smile, " Why does the luily weep 1 It makes me happy to see her y lur bride. She will go with you to di&taut j-'oula." She had caught the name, and long after tho carriage had driven away she repeated to herself, " Far over the sea, to distant Foula." Yes, thither they had gone to that dreamy m 180 Seven years akd maih. and mystical land by tbo sea, where its mys- tery iHid its loveliness are for evermore a joy and a delight to tl'.a earth ; where the am- bient air is fnll of beauty and witchery; where the twilights and dawns are of rare, unearthly loveliness, and the green earth lies like one in an enchanted sleep, dreaming of sea-caves, and jewelled mines, and costly argosies. One bcantifid, clear evening in the Indian summer tliey arrived at Fonla. The Udal- ler's homo still stood, lus of old, a beacon of warmth and comfort to the tired travellers. Around the door had collected a number of villagers to greet their young mastir. Many of them ho had left as children, now growu to manhood ; others had become l)owod aud hoary since ho was there ; new tombstones, too, had been put up in the little church- yard, bearing tlio names of some who would have been among the first to welcome him home. The throng outside the door waited eagerly for his coming, and, forgetting the decket of years, expected to see liim still a handsome youth, proud, self-willed, and dar- ing — the same who had ruled them with au impetuous 8way,half of love aud half of fear. They remembered his old air of command, his fearlessness, his daring, his outbursts jf pasi et,s ty-f lad: thei call t stoc yen 1 wh( mol li in 1 for con the 1 tot cor ]ik( bro kn( lier snr I to AND MAin. 8pa, where its mys- ro for ovennore a joy irtli; where the ain- auty aud witchery; il dawns are of rare, ml the green earth uted sleep, dreaming ed miuos, and costly svcning in the Indian i Foula. The Udal- s of old, a beacon of > the tired travellers. ^Hooted a number of roiing master. Many children, now growu d become bowed and re; new tombstones, iu the little church- la of some who would first to welcome him tside the door waited ;, and, forgetting the ,od to see liim still a , self-willed, and dar- :l ruled them with an f love and half of fear, old air of command, ring, his outbursts of SEVEN TEAItS AND MAIH. 181 passion. When the carriage stopped, n qui- et, self-contained, still handsome man of thir- ty-five stepped out, who first assisted a veiled lady tp alight; t hen, raising liis hat, returned their noisy greeting, liindly, courteously, but calmly. Upon the threshold of the Udallor's homo stood the parents, both silver-haired and venerable. To a lady, tall, erect, and state- ly, Eric spoke : " Mother, this is Hdlfeno." Then H<5l6ne was folded to her heorfc. But when she had held her there a moment, the mother turned to Eric. " Sou of my heart," she said, clasping him in her arms, "here there is warm welcome for you and for the bride of your love. Wel- come, welcome, to the home of your forefa- thers!" The Udaller, on whom age was beginning to tell, received them with the most eft'usivo cordiality. H616ne wiis charmed. She felt like one in a dream when seated by the broad hearth she had learned from Erie to know and love. She felt as if life could give her nothing more than this liome iu Foula, surrounded by hearts she loved. And 60 the heir of the Udallers retnrned to the home of his ancestors, on the ;'ocky 183 8KVEN YUAIIS AND MAIB. i.slo far off in tin midHt of tlio ocean, wlitiro a now lift! began lor him— a life of joy nnnr, they heard of Na- nette's death. She had died poi. efuUy one summer afternoon, with the words of an old hymn upon her lips. All day long hiloro her death she had been heard to murmur bless- ings on hearts she loved in distant Foul.i. Time passed on, and Douglas never mar- ried He lived at the old chfttean with ma- dame, who was passing p-iicefnlly into the valo of years. At evening, Douglas was al- ways seen to enter the church-yard. A qui- et tiowir-grown grave lay near the sunniest wall, and there ho spent the twilight hour. Ho made himself much beloved by the peo- ple of the place for his many acts of unseUmh benevolence; but ho seldom smiled, though tho years grew apace, and the children that liad woven his sister's bridal garlands were wen and women, and tho silver began to show in his dark hair. O grov inno and won tiioj gra' Ton kee' villi for goe and l-'oi lull tioi yea Nai pac roE aw iut we SOI th( go ch 86) iNt) MAIB> of tlio ocean, wlinm I— a life of joy mid noon did tlio yonii}; DiiK tlio rocks, doso fairy-laiul of inys- wftH l.iiiiK inltia- r cveiiiiiK did they , of wbicli iu otliei- they heard of Na- diell pen efully one tho words of an old 1 day long heforo her rd to murmur lilesa- , ill distant Foul.'i. Douglas never niar- Id chilteau with ma- [ p"ricefully into the ing, Uoiinhia was al- jhurch-yard. A qui- lay near the sunniest It tho twilight hour. beloved by the peo- nanyactsofunsolflsh ildoni smiled, though ind tho children that bridal garlands were tho Hilver began to BEVEX VEAU8 ANI> MAin. 183 Uuco ho wout to Foulft, and seciued to grow yofing again, wandering with Kno MUiong th.^ old He,eneK, full of tlio fresliiieBS iiiid KweotneHH of life's early morning. They would have persn-aded him to roniain; but tli(\V saw that his h. urt was buried in a lm;v"vc, now old and nu/ss-covercd, in far-off Touraino, and that ho would fain be buck, keeping his lonely post, and waiting till tlio village sexton should one day niiiki- a grave for him beside Nanette, near where tho Loire goes winding on its solemn, , casoless way, imd far from the once -loved sea at distant 1-oiila. In tho picture-gallery of tbo chAtenn bung another portrait, hearing tl." lusciu.- tion," Robert, Viscount Uouglas," to which, years afterward, was added Last of the Name." Strangers' eyes gr. dim when, passing before it, tbey heard e tale ot a romantic love, long after lie i,.u\ passed away to rest, an.l the old chfttenn had lullen into other hands. Admiring giiiices, too, were cast upon the portrait of a Kin, win- some, and joyous, and bright, but of whom tho family records said simply, " Married and gone beyond the seas." And thus did tho years fly by; and the chateau by tho Loire became lonely and de- serted, the pictures ia tho gaUery wore cov- -w I iiiiijfmiii 184 BKVKX YKAUa AND MAIH. cred with mii»^....>i^i! ' - ^(i^^;5i?^»»ft>«"«J*«'"'*