"I will," said Mrs. Carleton, "and to you I must be Ada, for so I am named. I am glad that you are pleased at having Cora for your godchild. I thought you would be; that was a little plan of mine. I wanted to do something to make you feel happier."

Gentle, loving Ada, always thinking of the good she could do to others, always self-abnegating, always giving up her own happiness that others might receive pleasure; even in the midst of grief, bereavement and exile, devising means to cheer a life that she saw was more lonely than her own—such was her character.

The position in which Miss Vyvyan now stood as Cora's godmother created a sincere bond of friendship between the two ladies, which as time went on developed into a lifelong affection. They each understood and appreciated every thought and feeling of the other. The child, who was of an intense and affectionate temperament, loved both of her guardians. She confided in Anna and would stay with her for hours together, and she always demanded in her baby way that Anna should partake equally with her mother and herself of everything that she deemed pleasure and enjoyment, and if Miss Vyvyan remained long out of sight, inquiry and desire were expressed by Cora in one little sentence, "Anna be back." At the same time, with an innate and delicate discrimination, the child defined the distinction between her filial love for her mother and that given to her friend in so natural a way that neither of the ladies could ever feel slighted or wounded in the least degree.



CHAPTER VIII.

He who ascends to mountain tops, shall find The loftiest peak most wrapped in clouds and snow; He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Must look down on the hate of those below. Though high above the sun of glory glow, And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which to those summits led.

They had been domiciled in the castle for several days when Miss Vyvyan said,

"As I am to take care of the commissariat department out of doors, Ada, I think it would be well for me to go down to the beach and bring up all the provisions I can, while we have such fine weather, as we think the winter may be very long here, so if you consider it a good plan I will fill another storeroom."

"We will all go down, Anna," replied Mrs. Carleton. "We have been here five days now, and I hope the tide may have removed much that was distressing to see there."

When the ladies reached the beach it was as Mrs. Carleton had supposed, all the corpses had floated away, but the whole beach and the shore far up from the sea was still strewn with wreckage. They worked very diligently, making piles of many things that might be useful, little Cora trotting about as busily as her companions, and helping as far as she knew how. It was scarcely ten o'clock, but the ladies had been out in the sun for some time lifting and carrying heavy burdens, an occupation which was as fatiguing to them as it was novel. So that they might rest a little while, and get all the sea breeze that there was on that still day, they went out on to a mass of high rocks, which projected into the ocean and formed a cove on each side.

Scarcely had they seated themselves, when they saw a gentleman climbing up from one of the coves below and coming toward them. He was a young man perhaps twenty-seven years of age. As he approached them, they noticed that his appearance was that of a gentleman of rank, his every movement was full of grace and high breeding, his figure was slender and under the middle size, and his face exceedingly handsome and refined. His bright chestnut colored hair was long and fell in waving masses on his shoulders. He wore a small beard of the same hue, his dress was very rich and elaborate, after the fashion of the time, and when he spoke, his voice and courtly manner, told that he was what his appearance indicated. As soon as he came near to them, he bowed low, and made a gesture with one hand, as if raising his hat, but he was bareheaded.

"Ladies," he began, "pardon me for intruding upon you, but for the love of heaven give me a cup of water, it is many days since I moistened my lips, I have been shipwrecked on your coast."

The ladies were on their feet in an instant. Mrs. Carleton running to a birch tree a few yards back from the beach, and breaking off a piece of bark, deftly bent it into a cup, which she handed to Miss Vyvyan to fill from the same pond that had supplied them with water the first day they were thrown upon the island. Refreshed by the draught the stranger tried to thank them, but speech and strength failed him, and tottering a few paces toward the land, he fell down insensible beside a fissure in one of the rocks. The ladies went to him.

"His hands are as cold as if he were dead, Ada," said Miss Vyvyan. "What will it be best to do?"

"What did you do for me, when you first tried to help me?" replied Mrs. Carleton.

"I tried to get you warm."

"Well, then, we must do that."

At these words, they simultaneously took off the outside wraps they wore, and laid them over him, and hastened about among the wreckage, until they had a good supply of warm rugs and coverings.

"Where did you get those hot stones that you placed at my feet," said Mrs. Carleton?

"I made a fire and heated them."

Then we will make a fire and do the same thing.

They covered the poor fellow over, and put hot stones to his feet, and he seemed to be sleeping. In the meantime they prepared some light food for him. They sat in silence near by, waiting to see what they could do, should he return to consciousness. They observed the color coming back to his face, and a bright pink spot burned on each cheek.

"I fear," said Mrs. Carleton, "fever is setting in. I will make something with the fruit we brought down, that will quench his thirst."

The child seemed to echo the thoughts of her companions, seeing them anxiously engaged in ministering to the sufferer. She began gathering up anything that she thought pretty, and laid it by his side. Presently she went to him with a few wild flowers, which she had picked from the crevices of the rocks and among the shore grass close by. She observed the ladies spoke in low tones to each other and moved about very quietly. She knew there was some cause for this, for, young as she was, she had already an idea of illness and suffering, and her little heart was full of pity for others. She stood looking at him as he lay asleep before her, waiting with her wild flowers, until the time should come for her to give them to him. "Poorest, poorest," she repeated, at the same time stroking his hair with her baby hand. That was her own word, and her own way of showing sympathy and pity. The little one's vocabulary was, at this period of her life, very limited, but equally significant of all that she saw and felt. She possessed no extraneous babble. The only words she was capable of uttering came from her heart; hence they fell upon her hearers with all the beauty and strength of truth. "Poorest, poorest," she again repeated; "dorn seep; papa dorn seep, too."

At the child's last sentence, a shudder quivered through Mrs. Carleton's frame, and a still whiter shade passed over the already pale face. She clasped her little one close to her and bowed down upon its head. She did not utter a sound. Her silence said more than any words could have done, for hers was a sorrow that had no speech.

After a restful sleep, the young man awoke, and sitting up among the many rugs and coverings by which he was surrounded, he looked about in every direction, and appeared to be endeavoring to realize his true position. He saw the high tower of the castle rising so near to him among the trees; he saw the ladies and the child, but he did not feel quite sure of the truth of all he saw until Mrs. Carleton put a cup into his hand and said,

"This is a fever drink; will you take some? I have just made it from fruit, the same as we make it in Virginia."

"Thank you," he said. "I know what it is. I am a Virginian. I sailed from that colony in the ship Sir Walter Raleigh. Who has been so kind as to bring me all these rugs," he continued.

"We did," replied Mrs. Carleton, looking in the direction of Miss Vyvyan, who with the child stood near them.

"What, with your own hands? I regret to have caused you so much trouble; although I am grateful to you in the extreme, I would have preferred you to have given orders to some of your servants. It is not seemly that ladies such you are should wait upon me; it is not consistent with the chivalry of a gentleman."

"I understand your feelings on this subject," said Mrs. Carleton, "for I, too, am a Virginian; but we have no servants now, and my friend and I are glad that we can be useful. It is five days since your ship was wrecked, therefore we know that you must have suffered greatly. Pray do not be disturbed by seeing us doing what little we can to save you from perishing; let me assure you that we are very happy to do our utmost."

The young man bowed, his cheeks still wore the bright flush of fever which heightened the intensity of his soft brown eyes, that beamed with gratitude.

"Do you say that you are a Virginian?" he inquired, addressing Mrs. Carleton.

"Yes," she answered; "we were in the Sir Walter Raleigh, too; that is to say, my husband and child with myself, but I never saw any of the passengers. I remained in my cabin all the time we were at sea."

"I recollect you, now," he said. "I saw Colonel Carleton lift you and your child into a boat when our ship went ashore."

"Were you acquainted with Colonel Carleton?" she inquired. "He was my husband."

"We were not acquainted until we met on board, but during the several weeks we were at sea we passed all the time together. You say he was your husband. Is it possible that generous-hearted man is lost?"

Mrs. Carleton made an inclination with her head.

"Forgive me," he said, "my conversation has caused you pain."

"Please continue," she replied, "tell me all you know about him."

"I witnessed many of his acts of kindness during our voyage, and received kindness from him at what I suppose was the last moment of his life. The boat you were in was full and I urged him to get into another one, but he refused, saying, 'I can swim and you cannot.' At the same moment he took hold of me and dropped me into the boat as easily as if I were a child. You know how tall and powerful he was. The next instant your boat was capsized and I saw Colonel Carleton leap into the sea and swim toward you. His hand was almost upon your arm, when an enormous wave swept him out of sight. The same wave capsized our boat, and the next one threw me into the cove below. I might have got away before, but part of a broken mast lay across my chest and I was entangled hand and foot by the rigging. I could neither move nor call aloud. I heard voices more than once, the voices of ladies. I believe it was your voice and that of your friend, for I never knew my ear to deceive me. I saw corpses lying all around me. The tide took them away and brought them back again many times while I was there. All one night a dead hand lay across my throat, but I could not disengage my hands to remove it. I had no fever; I was conscious of everything. The tide was higher than usual this morning. It lifted the mast and I crawled from under it."

He appeared to suffer much from exhaustion and lay down again upon the rugs, and closing his eyes remained silent. After a little rest, he again sat up and resumed his conversation with Mrs. Carleton.

"I have a great love of music," he began. "I left the colony of Virginia with the intention of going to London, to perfect my study of that divine art, under the direction of Orlando Gibbons. He is very young to be a composer, but he is already of much renown."

For some time he continued to speak fluently on the subject of music, a subject of which the ladies perceived he was a complete master. As he talked, he became full of enthusiasm, and that wondrous light which belongs to genius alone illumined his beautiful, eyes and his whole soul spoke through them.

"Ah, my madrigals," said he, "they will yet be sung to His Majesty, King James. My symphonies I shall submit to Orlando Gibbons, then I shall hear them played by a full orchestra, the world will hear, then justice will be accorded to me, the great masters will be my judges, genius such as theirs allows them to be generous and true in their opinions of other men. They will see me as I am. They will not condemn what they cannot understand. They will not call my life useless, because my tastes, my talents and my whole being compel me to be different from those among whom I live. I cannot help it, and I would not if I could."

An expression of mental pain passed over his face as he thus proceeded. "Why did my uncle call my life and my work useless? It is hard to be misunderstood. If I can create out of my own brain something that is pure and beautiful, that gives happiness, that draws coarse natures away from their coarseness, to feelings more elevated, that can bring to some an ecstasy of delight, to others a sweet calm. If I follow a pursuit which injures no human being, no living creature, why am I to endure displeasure? Is it more manly, more noble to hunt the poor, panting deer till it falls gasping on the ground, and then to save its life for the purpose of chasing it again for sport? Is it more noble to ride races till the horses drop down dead? Tell me, do such pursuits elevate or brutalize?"

Taking a roll of paper from his breast, he handed it to Mrs. Carleton, saying, "I have a symphony here which I composed since I left my home; would you like to look at it? I wish my twin brother Ronald could see this; he understands me, and he will understand my music, although since his accident, his hand can no longer obey his will; yet he will read my symphony, aye, more, he will play it in his soul. With it you will find a song also, the words and music are both mine; when you have read it, will you hand it to your friend?"

Mrs. Carleton took the roll of music into her hand, but observing that the writing was almost obliterated from having been so long wet with sea water, she passed it to Miss Vyvyan, who sat a little farther off, desiring to spare him the pain of seeing that his composition was destroyed. The many pages of music were entirely illegible, with the exception of part of the refrain of the song, the words of which ran thus:—

Bury me deep, Where the surges sweep, And the heaving billows moan.

At the bottom was the name "Ralph." The following part of the signature was destroyed.

As Anna read over the words of the song, she could not help feeling that they might be prophetic of what was very near. She folded the paper together and returned it to him.

"Is that your signature?" she asked.

"Yes, that is my name," he replied. "Do you like music," he continued.

"I do," she said.

"How much do you like it?"

"I like it to such a degree," she replied, "that I think life is not life without music."

"Ah, that is what I think," he said. "But I am exhausted. Ladies, will you pardon me if I sleep a little while? I want to get back my strength, that I may be able to wait upon you both, and make all the return in my power for your great kindness to me."

He soon fell into a restless, broken sleep, constantly murmuring to himself incoherently.

"Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "he is very ill, and it is almost sunset, and quite impossible for us to take him up to the castle. We must make some shelter here for him; the breeze already comes in from the sea much cooler, and the night will be cold." The ladies picked up loose stones and planks and everything they could move, and formed a low wall around him, making a place of shelter as large as a small room. They then drew up a portion of a sail and laid it partially across for a roof. He still slept, but as they looked at him, they saw the fever was rapidly increasing; a still brighter flush was on his cheeks; his lips were parched, and his breathing distressingly short and oppressed.

"What can we do?" said Mrs. Carleton. "See there, Anna! The sun has gone behind the hill to the west of the castle; it will soon be dark. It would be terrible to leave him here to perish, for he needs great care, beside the wolves may come, and he is too ill to defend himself. Do tell me what you think it best to do?"

"One of us must watch by him to-night, Ada," replied Miss Vyvyan, "and if he should be better to-morrow, we may be able to get him up to the castle. I must be the one to watch. Little Cora could not pass the night without you, and even if she could, you are not well enough yet to be out in the night air. Let me go up and get a few things such as he may require. I will be back very quickly."

When Miss Vyvyan entered the castle, the sun had set, and a dull gray hue had settled upon every room. How dreary for poor Ada, she thought to herself, here almost alone, with the death of her husband so recent, and so vividly brought before her to-day. She at once thought of kindling a fire as the only means she had of taking away some of the gloominess of the place. She did so, and then spread a supper table as temptingly as she could with the only food they had at command, and hastened back again to the beach.

"He still sleeps," said Mrs. Carleton, "but his fever is very high. It distresses me to leave you here, Anna, and I would not, but for little Cora's sake."

"I understand you," replied Anna; "I shall always understand you. We are not mistresses of our own destiny; we have to do what we can, not what we wish. I know all that you would do if you could."

As Mrs. Carleton took the child in her arms and turned her steps toward the castle, the moon rose slowly from the sea and made a long, golden, glimmering path from the horizon to the shore. It was the harvest moon, which was almost at the full. The night was light and still, with the exception of the sound of the waves, which broke upon the beach below in one long, continuous moan.

Anna watched beside her charge, sometimes moistening his parched lips, sometimes arranging his improvised pillow, and listening to every sound both near and distant, with that quick, discriminating sense of hearing which we acquire from watching over those we love, and which she had learned during the last illness of her mother. The night was now far advanced. Close beside her came the quick, hard breathing, and the indistinct murmuring of the sufferer.

From down below, still arose the mournful tones of the heavily rolling waves, and from the forest came the howling of the wolves, but she could hear they were not near; and resolved if they should approach to scare them away, by setting light to a pile of wood which Mrs. Carleton had laid together for that purpose.

As she sat there on the ground and realized her situation, a feeling almost of terror came over her. During the past few years, she had gone through the discipline of a long lifetime. This night, the past and present seemed to combine to crush out the remnant of courage that had been left to her. She buried her face in her hands and rocked to and fro, struggling with her feeling, struggling with destiny, and struggling to call back some of her former self; that as her day, so her strength might be.

At that moment, Ralph awoke; he turned his face on his pillow, and regarding her with great earnestness, he said, "Where is Ronald, my brother? I want him here now."

Anna went nearer to him and, looking at the flushed face and the brilliant, restless eyes, saw that he was delirious.

"Ronald," he repeated. "Are you there?"

"Perhaps he is near you," said Anna, wishing to solace him.

"That is well," he answered. "I will play my new composition to him."

He immediately began to move his hands over the rugs which covered him, as if he were playing the organ.

"Ah," said he, "that is the chord I sought,—thank heaven.—Listen to this.—Hark, hear this resolution. Now do you see what that chord leads up to?—How is that harmonic progression?—How does this sound?—I shall have a double suspension there.—Ah, that is good.—Hark; now can you hear the melody running through the minor?—Yes, the violoncellos come in there,—so it must be.—More ink; quick, quick,—there is so much to write and so little time."

He sank down again, exhausted, and fell into a deep sleep. After an hour he again awoke, the flush had left his cheek; he was very calm, and had perfectly regained his senses.

"I have been dreaming of my brother Ronald," he said. "I thought he was here. Can you tell me what time it is?"

"I think," replied Anna, "by the position of the moon, it must be an hour past midnight."

"I have been ill," he said, "but I feel better, much better; almost well again. I want to thank you ladies for so much kind care of me; both Mrs. Carleton and you, but I do not know what to call you. I did not hear your name."

"I do not wish you to thank me now," said Anna, "because you are too weak to talk at present, but I will tell you my name. It is Anna Vyvyan."

"Vyvyan," he repeated. "I know that name; I will tell you all about it to-morrow—I feel faint.—There is a great oppression at my heart.—Those timbers crushed my chest.—I cannot breathe.—Raise me up."

Anna knelt on the ground beside him and raised him up as he desired.

"Yes," he said, "tired, tired."

The next moment a wonderful far-away look of rapture came over his beautiful face, and then a pale shadow such as might be caused by the passing flight of a bird;—his head fell upon her shoulder;—he was dead. Anna laid his lifeless body gently down and watched beside it through the silent hours of the night, gazing from time to time at the finely-formed features. They had a fascination for her, and she could not dispossess her mind of the thought that she had seen them before.

The first few streaks of dawn came creeping over land and sea, and the sun arose and shed a shimmering light on the surrounding islands, the forest and the misty mountain tops. With daylight, the howling of the wolves ceased, and the only signs of life were the sea gulls that floated about near the shore or ran screaming along the beach devouring their prey, and a pair of eagles which constantly hovered near and swooped down close to where the dead man was lying. Anna covered the cold, pale face and went nearer to protect it from any attack.

The sun had not long risen when Mrs. Carleton with little Cora left the castle.

Anna heard their voices, and went to meet them. "I must be careful how I speak," she said, addressing Mrs. Carleton, "for I feel sure Cora understands much more than she can find language to express, but I have to tell you that ever since about an hour after midnight I have been all alone. He sleeps."

The ladies gave the child some shells to play with, and went to where his body lay. They drew the sail over the low wall which they had made around him and completely covered in the little room.

"That will keep any eagles or wolves away while daylight lasts," said Mrs. Carleton, "but we must bury the poor fellow's body before night. The thought of having it devoured or mutilated when it is in our power to prevent it, is more than either of us could bear, for in addition to the forlorn state that we found him in, his genius and his gentle breeding made both of us take an interest in him. Beside, his being a Virginian, and the last person to speak with Dudley, gave him a claim on my friendship."

They went up to the castle and did not return until just before sunset, when they brought with them many beautiful wild flowers, which, as we have said, abounded on the island. They also gathered branches of the fragrant fir balsam, with which they lined the fissure in the rock on which Ralph's body was lying. Folding around the latter a robe of rich brocade, they lowered it tenderly into the tomb that nature had wrought. As Anna laid the face cloth over the marble features, she started back. The resemblance which had attracted and held her attention during the night, had come out vividly since the morning. The likeness was to her own mother, and was as marked as if Ralph had been her son. They covered his silken winding-sheet with flowers until the sepulchre was filled, then they laid flat stones across his resting place, and began to build a cairn over all. They continued building until the sun went down, little Cora bringing stones in her baby hands and placing them with the same precision that she saw her mother and Miss Vyvyan were doing.

"We have made everything secure now, Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "but we will come again to-morrow and add more stones to the cairn, and every time we come to the beach we will do the same. Will you take charge of the manuscript? We do not know what the future may bring. He wished his brother Ronald to see it, and we may, perhaps, some day have it in our power to carry out his wish. Now we will go back to the castle, for I see you are in great need of rest."



CHAPTER IX.

Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprising what they look on . . . . . to her All matter else seems weak; she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-endeared.

The maple leaves had turned from rose and crimson to orange, then to pale yellow and to brown, and had fallen to the earth, for it was now almost Christmas, but no snow was as yet on the ground. The ladies had made all the rooms which they occupied in the tower very comfortable and homelike, although they could neither of them bring themselves to speak of the place by the name of home, for that was a sacred word to both of them. They always spoke of their dwelling-place as the castle. We have already said that the views from every room in the tower were of exceeding loveliness. Most of the windows overlooked the islands, many of which were far away, others perhaps only two or three miles off. At one time, their beauty would be softened and half obscured by mist, at another they would appear to be lifted up into the sky by the effect of the mirage. At times a heavy sea fog hung over the island and obscured every distant object, and to the nearer ones gave a weird and spectral look.

Just at daylight one morning, when the fog was coming in from the ocean, the ladies were awakened by the lowing of cattle. On looking down from the tower windows, they saw some cows come out from under the trees and pass along close to the walls of the building. They scarcely had time to express their surprise to each other, before it was much heightened by the appearance of a woman, who followed the animals out of the forest and drove them quickly across the grass which had formerly been the courtyard of the castle, to a high mound a little way to the north of it, there both she and the cattle disappeared in the fog and among a thick growth of spruces. The woman's movements were quick and firm, and she stepped as one who not only possessed determination, but defiance also. She was tall and gaunt and bony, possibly not fifty years old, but her hair which hung loose in disheveled entanglement, was as white as if she were eighty. She had large black eyes that flashed upon every object that she looked at. She wore a red dress, which reached only a little below her knees. On her feet she had a pair of heavy, high boots, such as are worn by cavalry soldiers. Her head was partially covered by an old cotton handkerchief which had once been of many bright colors.

"Did you hear what language she spoke," said Miss Vyvyan?

"I caught the sound of a few words somewhat like Italian, but it was not Italian."

"I heard it," replied Mrs. Carleton. "I believe it was Spanish, but she passed so quickly I could not hear distinctly, or I should have understood her."

All that day the ladies remained in doors. They watched in the direction of the mound, but nothing was to be seen which would lead them to suppose that any dwelling was near to them; and so the time passed until night covered the island with darkness. They had put little Cora to bed, and were, according to their usual habit, sitting beside her in Mrs. Carleton's room. The night was unusually cold. It seemed as if winter had really sent in its heralds in advance, to announce its near approach. The wind howled and shrieked through the rooms which surrounded them up stairs, and groaned and roared in the many passages and apartments down below. Their glowing log fire was so acceptable to them, that they were loath to leave it, and so they sat talking together until midnight. They had gained a very good idea of time by observing the sun and moon, and were also greatly aided by the ebb and flow of the tide. They knew exactly the high-water mark, by certain rocks; they knew that it took so many hours to ebb and so many to flow, and they had become so familiar with the sound of the outgoing and incoming tide, that even in the darkness of night, they did not feel at a loss.

"It is past midnight, Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, going to one of the windows and leaning out to listen, "The tide has just turned. Come here," she continued. "What is that rising above the mound?"

"Sparks of fire and wood smoke," replied Miss Vyvyan. "There must be a dwelling of some kind there. That is probably where the woman went to with the cows, but it is strange that we have never seen anything of it before to-night."

The intense cold of the next day warned the ladies that they must use dispatch in finishing their arrangements, in order to be able to meet the exigencies that a severe winter night might bring upon them. During the two months they had been living in the castle, they had employed themselves continually in bringing in supplies of all kinds, until they felt they had ample stores to last them for a very long time, but they were all in the rooms down stairs; and as the distance from the tower was so great, and the weather so severe, they decided to make a storeroom up stairs, on the same floor as that on which they lived. They had been busy for some time, packing and carrying up their requirements, little Cora, as usual, just as active as themselves, taking up her loads and returning for more; her tiny feet pattering up and down the long, stone staircase, flitting back and forth between her mother and Anna, with her own peculiar, light, swift, graceful movement, which was like that of a bird.

All at once, they each missed the return of the child; but as the ladies were in separate parts of the castle, they each of them thought she had remained with the other. After some time had elapsed, they began to feel anxious, and each sought the other.

Meeting on the stairs, the question "Where is Cora?" came from the lips of each of them at the same moment; then a hurried explanation, and a terrible feeling of horror. They ran in every direction, calling her name. They separated and went different ways; they met again and went in search of her together. Could it be possible that she had gone up the watch tower, and fallen from the battlements. They flew up the tower stairs and looked over. They rushed down again and out into the court yard; no sound, no sign of the child. In the agony of their distress, they went into every room and opened every great chest, every large piece of furniture.

"Oh Anna," cried Mrs. Carleton, "that woman we saw, do you think she has stolen my child; perhaps put her to death. We must go to the mound where we saw her go."

They followed the tracks of the cattle, and pushed their way through the trees for a short distance, till they came to the almost bare mound; it was high and long; near the base was an opening of irregular shape, which was evidently the entrance, but it was partly closed by an old, broken door. They had gone within a few feet of it, when the door was violently thrown down, and the gaunt woman in the same strange dress stood in the doorway, brandishing a rusty sword at them, and speaking rapidly in a peculiarly harsh and high pitched voice. She spoke in Spanish, which Mrs. Carleton perfectly understood, and which she, also, spoke fluently.

"Go hence," said the woman. "What seek you here? I am Louisita, and all that you see here is mine; my land, my trees, my seashore; hence I say, away with you, or this sword pierces the heart of both."

"Pray, hear me one moment," pleaded Mrs. Carleton, "I am in the greatest distress."

"What care I for your distress, have I not enough of my own without listening to yours? Off with you."

"Only a few words," again entreated Mrs. Carleton. "I want to—"

"You may want, I heed that not. I want myself; I have nothing to give you. I would not give you anything, if I had it. You are intruders on this island. I saw you arrive, and the men you brought with you. Ha! ha! You meant them to land here. Where are they now? I saw it all, ha! ha! ha! You may wait for their return; they have made a long voyage, so long that they will never come back; glad, glad, I hate the accursed sex, they caused all my suffering; twenty years entombed here, through their state of mad intoxication. If only one of that great band of pirates had remained sober, I might have got away."

"Do let me ask you, have you seen my child?" said Mrs. Carleton. "I entreat you to tell me."

"See your child. I saw you take food to one of the accursed sex. I saw you try to make him live. I despise you for it. Why should he live to drink, drink, and bring misery on me and all women? I tell you again I hate them for their love of drink. I hold them in contempt for their weakness. The ocean did well to swallow them down, just as their brothers swallowed down the fiery drink on that fearful night when the great tower fell and crushed a hundred of them."

"Do, I implore you, say if my child strayed anywhere in your sight?" cried Mrs. Carleton, overcome with anguish. "We have lost her."

"Lost her; lost her; seen her;" echoed Louisita very slowly, and making a long pause as if to collect her thoughts, she added, "The child was young and the wolf was hungry."

As Mrs. Carleton translated the last sentence to Miss Vyvyan, she fell fainting into Anna's arms.

"Do not heed what she says, dear Ada; let us believe the best until we know the worst. Cora may have fallen asleep in some of the nooks in the building, and so did not hear us call her."

The ladies returned to the castle. Miss Vyvyan was also under the most intense apprehension, but she concealed her feelings from Mrs. Carleton.

"Which room were you in, Ada, when you missed Cora? She may, as I said, be asleep, and perhaps she is among some of the bales in one of the storerooms."

"I was down at the end of the passage," replied Mrs. Carleton, "in the largest room. We will go there first."

They went down and searched the room, but could not find Cora. As they came out of it they heard a sound which seemed to come from under ground. They ran to the half-dark stairway which they had seen when they blocked up the north door. The sound was more distinct; it was Cora's voice in conversation. Who could have taken her down to that subterranean place? They did not hesitate an instant, but descended the stairs as quickly as the darkness would admit, and found themselves in a dungeon where there was just sufficient light to see that an uncovered well was close beside the path which they were following. The talking had ceased. The silence was profound and added still greater gloom to the place. They both stood bending over the well and looking down into the depth of water which was black and silent. They each looked at the other. They read the thoughts which passed through each other's mind. They neither of them spoke. They did not dare to. While they still stood bending over the well, straining both eyes and ears to the utmost, little Cora's voice came again. It seemed close to them; they could not distinguish any words, but the tones were those of her usual pretty baby prattle. Was that voice from the spirit land? They could see nothing but the gray stone walls of the dungeon, the dark, open well and some large, loose stones, which had heavy iron chains with rings attached to them, and which had in former years been fastened to the ankles of the prisoners and worn by them till death relieved them of their burden. Just in the same way as many of the poor victims of imperial tyranny are to-day doomed to drag their chains and weights while they labor in the mines of Siberia. Again came Cora's voice as if from the further corner of the dungeon. The ladies stumbled among the loose stones in the semi-darkness, Anna, who was more robust and the taller of the two, folding her arms around Mrs. Carleton to support her, and both of them feeling their way lest they should fall into any other well or excavation. Arrived at the corner they saw a gleam of light, which came in a slanting direction through a large hole in the wall. They still heard the little voice and determined to follow it. The hole would only admit of their crawling in on their hands and knees. This they did for several yards, until everything was in complete darkness, and they found they were against a wall straight in front of them, and could go no further. The passage was too narrow for them to turn round and come out, the top of it was so low it nearly touched their heads as they crawled along. The air was oppressive, and suffocation almost overpowered them, but they could still hear the voice which seemed nearer. Feeling the walls carefully with their hands, they found that a sharp turn to the right, led along in a direct line toward the sound. This passage was also dark, and as narrow almost as a coffin. They continued crawling for several yards more, sometime cutting their arms with the broken stones which covered the bottom, and sometimes placing one of their hands upon some cold substance which moved and felt as if it might be a lizard or a sleeping snake. They neither called nor spoke, for they feared someone might have the child, who would run away with her, if warned of their approach, so they determined to come upon them suddenly. They were greatly exhausted, but they struggled on.

At length daylight appeared at the end of the subterranean passage, and in another moment they emerged from it and stood in a large stone hall, amply lighted from above by open iron gratings and loopholes in the walls; through one of the latter, a bright gleam of light fell like a halo upon the sweet, fair face and the golden head of the child, who was sitting on the floor, with a portion of her little white dress folded around a kitten, which she was rocking in her arms and talking to. Happy as was her wont and all unconscious of the flight of time and the anxiety that she had caused, she seemed to have made some little exploration of her own since she had been there and wanted to show her discovery, just the same as Mrs. Carleton and Miss Vyvyan were always doing to one another.

"Come," said she, getting up from the floor and taking her mother's hand, "funny sing down dare; Anna too," she continued, and stretching out her other hand, she caught hold of the folds of Miss Vyvyan's dress, and drew her along also, leading them both across the hall to a large gate of iron bars. It was locked, and closed the entrance to a broad stone passage.

"Down dare, funny sing," she went on, pointing to a skeleton, which lay just inside, and so near to the gate that one hand had been thrust out between the bars and the bones of it were lying close to their feet. A great quantity of long black hair still remained about the skull, in the midst of which was a Mexican ear-ring of elaborate workmanship. Everything told them that the skeleton was that of a woman. Glancing round the hall, the ladies could not see any door. How did Cora get there? Before they had time to inquire, little Cora saw something inside the gate, and with her usual quick movement, she swiftly passed her tiny hand between the closely placed iron bars and from a small heap of debris of finger bones, drew out a richly chased gold ring, inscribed with the name of "Inez;" set in it was a large ruby in the form of a heart.

The child who possessed as part of her inheritance a fine, sensitive instinct, looking at her mother, observed that her long silken eyelashes were wet with tears, and that traces of recent mental agony lingered on her face. In an instant, the dear little soul strove to comfort and cheer, after the manner so often employed by each of her guardians toward herself. Holding up the ring in one hand, and clinging round her mother with the other, she said,

"See, mama, Cora dot pitty sing for mama. Don't ky, don't ky, Cora loves mama."

"Sweet child," exclaimed Anna, taking her up into her arms and holding her to her heart. "Sweet child, more precious to us every day, for each one reveals some new beauty of character, some still more lovable trait. Come, dear Ada, come away," she continued. "I will carry Cora. How did my little godchild come here?" she said, addressing the little one in her arms.

"Kitta doe," answered Cora.

"Yes darling, where did kitta go?"

"By dare," said the child, pointing to a massive column, one side of which was built close to the wall and had the appearance of being placed there as a support, but was in reality to conceal a doorway which led to a flight of stairs between two walls.

The ladies went up, Miss Vyvyan carrying Cora. They soon found themselves in one of the rooms which was nearly filled with firearms and other implements of warfare. The entrance to it at the top of the stairs was concealed in the same manner as the doorway below, and but for Cora following the little white kitten, the ladies might have lived many years in the castle and never have seen it. The subterranean passage into which they accidentally crawled, had been made for a place of concealment in case of a sudden attack upon the castle.



CHAPTER X.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset was seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved and forever grew still.

* * * * *

And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

Christmas had come and gone, and the snow was lying deep on the ground. They had seen nothing of Louisita since the day Cora was lost.

"I wonder," said Mrs. Carleton, "how that poor woman, Louisita, exists? for I think from what I saw the day we went to her, that she is all alone, and if you recollect, she said something to that effect. I fear she suffers in this cold weather. You saw, of course, that it was no kind of a house that she came out of."

"Yes," replied Miss Vyvyan, "it appeared to be only a mound of earth."

"I want to take her some food," continued Mrs. Carleton. "Do you think we can get there through the snow?"

"I can carry Cora," replied Miss Vyvyan, "if you can take the food."

Mrs. Carleton filled a box with both food and fruit, and the ladies, with little Cora, went forth to visit Louisita.

She met them in the same manner as before, not allowing them to come very near to the opening, and brandishing the old sword.

"If that child were one of the accursed sex," she said, with a malicious look, "I would sever its head from its body."

The child could not, of course, understand her language, but she read the look, and clasping her arms closely around Anna's neck, she buried her face on her shoulder.

"Will you accept of this?" said Mrs. Carleton, speaking very gently, and at the same time lifting the lid of the box.

Louisita sprang at the contents as a famished tigress might have sprung upon some long-sought prey. Jerking the box out of Mrs. Carleton's hands, she put it on the ground, and again raised her sword. "Hence," she cried, "all of you; no one enters here. Ha, what do I see; stop, stop," she screamed. "Donna Inez, my lady, Donna Inez. Where did you get that ring," she continued, pointing to Mrs. Carleton's finger, on which she wore the ring that Cora had found. "That is the ring Donna Inez wore the night they murdered her. Yes, the accursed sex murdered her, the night they drank out of the skulls till they were all mad, mad, and the great tower fell upon them; ha, ha, ha. Who will drink out of their skulls when they find them? More of the accursed sex, they who make laws to command women, and who cannot command themselves. Away with you. I tell you to go, you are intruders."

"I fear your dress is not warm enough," said Mrs. Carleton. "You must suffer from the cold."

"Suffer," shrieked Louisita, "I have known nothing else than suffering for twenty winters and summers, and they the accursed sex caused it all by their passion for the fiery cup; it soddened their brains; it poisoned every good feeling in their hearts. It buried my husband under the ruins of the tower; it bereft me of my home; it caused my two babes to die of cold and hunger in this tomb."

"Poor Louisita," said Mrs. Carleton, "if you will come back with us to the castle I will find some warm dresses and other comforts for you."

"Never," she replied; "it is haunted. I have not been into it since I came away with my babes the morning after the tower fell."

"Why do you think it is haunted?" asked Mrs. Carleton.

"I know it is because I hear them shrieking in the night, and I hear Donna Inez calling, 'Open the gate'."

"I will not ask you to come inside, Louisita, but if you will only come up the outside steps to the door I will get you anything you wish for."

"I want food; I want warm clothes; I want something to cover my bed."

"You shall have it," said Mrs. Carleton. "I feel very sorry for you; I wish to make you happy."

"Ha! ha! happy," she repeated. Then looking toward Miss Vyvyan she continued, "Make her take that child out of my sight. She brings it here to mock me. I will run my sword through her heart if ever she brings that child here again."

"She does not bring my child here to mock you, Louisita. She is my friend, and loves my child, and we could not leave it alone. My friend always goes where I go, for fear anything might befall me. She cannot speak Spanish or she would explain all to you."

"Go away with you," said Louisita; "go get the things for me. I will come for them when I am ready, but I will not put my foot over the door sill."

"All things considered, Ada," said Miss Vyvyan, "I think it is well that Louisita is afraid to go into the castle, for she appears to be of a spiteful nature, and might try to do Cora some harm, but we will never again let the child be out of sight."

Mrs. Carleton prepared for Louisita's arrival by placing a number of things of all kinds in the hall near to the entrance which the ladies used. In a little while she came, still in the same short red gown and cavalry boots, bearing the old sword in her hand.

"Where are my things?" she demanded of Mrs. Carleton, speaking in the same defiant tone as usual. "Bring them here to the door. I told you I would not enter. That belonged to Donna Inez," she said, taking up a dress, "and that was Don Alphonzo's," seizing hold of the red velvet cloak which the ladies had found in the library.

"Wrap the cloak about your shoulders, Louisita," said Mrs. Carleton; "it will keep you warm."

"I will not," she answered, fiercely; "it belonged to one of the accursed sex; he died through drinking of the fiery cup; he caused the death of many through the same thing."

"Perhaps you will wear this, Louisita," said Mrs. Carleton, offering her one of the best and warmest table covers that she and Miss Vyvyan had brought from the wreck.

"Yes," said she, "I will; give me another for my bed."

"Let me go, Ada," said Miss Vyvyan, who had hitherto been standing far back in the hall with Cora. "I know where we put one that will please her, for I see that she likes red," and taking Cora up in her arms she disappeared.

"Why does she take that child everywhere," asked Louisita.

"I told you just now," replied Mrs. Carleton, "that my friend loves my child, and they are always happy together."

"Does she think she is happy?" said Louisita, "what a fool she must be; she is not happy, you are not happy, I am not happy. Oh, the fool, she has not sense enough to know that she is not happy."

Just at this junction Miss Vyvyan returned with Cora on one arm, and the other one loaded with warm, bright-colored articles, such as she felt sure Louisita would like. As she approached the door, where the woman stood, and passed the things to Mrs. Carleton, the child again clung tightly as before to Anna, who hastily went back to the end of the hall.

"Tell the fool to go away out of my sight with that child," said Louisita, "and I will tell you about this place. I will not tell her because she mocks me by bringing the child to remind me of my dead babes—my babes who were famished to death."

Miss Vyvyan went to the green parlor with little Cora, and Louisita began her narrative.

"I was born in Spain. When I was a young woman, Donna Inez was married to Don Alphonzo in Madrid. She engaged me for her waiting woman. I was married directly after to one of Don Alphonzo's sailors. We came to this island in one of the Don's ships. The castle was most gorgeously furnished with the spoils of almost every country in the world. I thought Don Alphonzo was a great noble, so did my husband, for he was so called in Spain, but soon my husband told me that the Don and all his men were buccaneers. Donna Inez did not know the truth until after we came here. We tried to get away, but that was impossible. The Don brought the richest dresses and jewels to make the Donna like her home, but he could not succeed. Many wrecks I have seen in just the same place you were wrecked in; Don Alphonzo and his crew burned false signals at night, they hoisted false colors by day, they drew the unfortunate ships to their doom; the Don had a hundred men in this castle, ready to obey his commands at any moment. They had uniforms and flags of many nations, which they used as disguises and decoys. They robbed the vessels which fell into their hands, they killed some of their crews, some they sold into slavery, and others who refused to commit murder, they chained to great stones down in the middle dungeon. That was called the 'dungeon of death,' for they kept the men there until they died of starvation, and when they died, they threw their bodies into the well. My husband, Juan, was put into that dungeon, because he would not kill a Spanish boy who was taken prisoner, but Donna Inez made the Don release him, for we thought Juan would help us to get away. The Donna had promised to give him half of her jewels, if he would find some way to get us back to Spain, but he made himself powerless, he soddened his brain, he murdered his manly feelings; he was once good and brave and I loved him with all the intensity and devotion of a true woman, but he learned to value strong drink more than my affection, he killed my love, he drowned it in the fiery cup, and I grew to despise and loath him. Don Alphonzo was worse than Juan, for he had so much learning and so much power and he turned it all to a bad use. He blasted other lives by his own evil example. Out of his wickedness grew the curse which fell upon me, but he has met with retribution."

"Poor Louisita," said Mrs. Carleton, speaking very gently, "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," she replied. "Let me tell you the rest. One night the Don and his crew came back with the greatest prize they ever seized. The men were summoned to unload the ship. They made immense fires from the castle to the beach, and by their glare they robbed the merchants of their valuable cargo. It was near midnight before their rapacity was satisfied. Don Alphonzo ordered the vessel to remain where she laid until daybreak, when he intended to set her adrift, with all her crew on board, that he might see them dashed on to those rocks which you see down yonder. The Don then commanded a feast to be set in the banqueting hall, in the base of the north tower. He ordered every man in the castle to attend the revel, that they might rejoice over their great prize. They all went; the wine flowed like water; they went down to the banqueting hall by a secret stairway; they passed along a stone passage, which was closed by an iron gate. The banqueting hall had no windows; they always held their revels there, that they might not be surprised by any enemy, for no light could be seen outside, and no one could tell that they were carousing. I listened on the secret stairs until their loud shouting had ceased, and I knew that the strong drink had soddened their brains, and paralyzed their arms. I ran to Donna Inez; I dressed her in the richest brocade; I covered her neck and arms with jewels of fabulous worth, for I knew the effect of costly attire upon the accursed sex whose help we needed. I made ready some caskets of jewels to take with us. I told the Donna all that I had heard of the ship lying there till morning, and we resolved to let the captain know that the Don and all his men were powerless, and to offer him the Donna's jewels if he would take us away. We knew he would be glad to escape; we knew he would be glad of the jewels, for they would make him very rich. We were ready to leave the castle. My babes were very young; they were asleep in a large basket; I could easily carry them to the beach. We heard a sound like a moan; it seemed far off, then a distant rumble, but nearer than the first sound; next a terrific roar; another and a fearful crash, crash. For a moment the whole castle trembled; a flash of light lit up the place; the north tower was wrecked from top to bottom; the walls fell inward; they fell as you see them lying now, for no hand has touched them since. We knew an earthquake had occurred. My babes awoke and screamed; I tried to quiet them, and to hold Donna Inez back, but she tore herself away; she was panic stricken; she did not know what she did; she said something to me as she ran out of her room about seeking protection; she rushed down the stairs in the direction of the banqueting hall; she never came up them again. As soon as I had hushed my babes I followed her. She was inside the iron gate; it had closed upon her as she passed through. It could only be opened by those who understood the secret spring. There was no one who could come to show us how to open it. We could not break the gate; that was impossible. We saw that the further end of the castle was stopped, all filled up with immense blocks of stone which had crashed in when the tower fell. Don Alphonzo and more than a hundred men lay under the ruins; they shrieked and groaned there all through the night. Donna Inez became frantic. She dashed herself against the iron bars like some newly caged bird. In the morning when the sun came up from the sea she was dead. I looked for the ship; it had sailed. I had almost lost the power of moving, but the cries of my babes called me back to activity. I gathered some covering and some other things and took them to the Vikings' tomb. I tore away the earth to make an entrance. We lived there till cold and hunger killed my babes. I have lived there ever since. Nothing could induce me ever to enter the castle again."

"Why do you call it the Vikings' tomb, Louisita?" asked Mrs. Carleton.

"That was what Don Alphonzo called it. I think he knew for he was a man of much learning, although he had no sense. He said the Vikings built the castle very long ago, and lived here for two hundred years till a great pestilence prevailed among them, and so many died of it that the remaining ones deserted the place. He said the Indians cast a spell over the Vikings and bewitched them, because the Indians used to live here in wigwams before the Vikings came and drove them away from their own land, and would not allow them to bury their dead among their forefathers, for they have a burial place on this island. It is down there just below the swamp where I saw you gathering flowers one day soon after you came here. There is a large elm tree down there, the only one near. The Indians are buried there all round it. They always had an elm tree in that place. They have a secret charm by which they keep it there. The Vikings cut down their elm many times, but it sprung up again in the night, and was as tall and large as ever the next day. When we came here Don Alphonzo had their tree cut down every day, but it always came up again just the same. At last he was afraid the Indian spirits would cast a spell over him, too, so he let their elm alone. The Indians still bury their dead under it, but no one ever sees them arrive. They come in the night. An elm will always grow there till the two thousand years for which they have their charm has expired. After that time there will never be another."



CHAPTER XI.

A fool, a fool!—I met a fool i' the forest.

The first winter which the ladies and little Cora passed on the island, was unusually severe, but they had expected and prepared for it; and the winter scene was so novel to them, and fraught with so much beauty, that they never wearied of it. Besides the constant occupation in their housekeeping and attending to Cora, and also caring for Louisita, and providing her with all the comforts they had in their power to take to her, for she still insisted in living in the Vikings' tomb, which she never permitted them to enter.

Spring came at last, and with it returned to the island the robins, the song thrushes, the beautiful golden orioles, and the humming birds, all of which had gone southward at the beginning of winter. The wood violets and the trailing arbutus blossomed among the grass. The spruces and pines put forth their young buds, and the whole island wore a garb of beauty.

The little family of three, spent much time out of doors, and visited the beach almost daily, for they all loved the sea, especially little Cora; and to enhance her happiness was the first desire of both of the ladies. They frequently wandered around Ralph's grave, and never omitted adding a stone to the cairn, which they had raised to his memory. Little Cora with her tiny hands, always placing her own mite to the pile. As the child grew stronger, they took longer walks, and taught her from the book of nature as they went along, for Nature's lessons in geology, and botany, and natural history, lay all around them.

They had by this, brought their lives into the same degree of system and order, as that in which they had each of them been educated in their respective homes; the want of which during the first part of their residence on the island they greatly missed. They now divided their days, and had regular hours for certain occupations, and they made a compact, that they would always be cheerful in the presence of the child, and meet their destiny bravely, that they might not give a somber tinge to her young life. Everything went well with them as far as might be, excepting that Louisita, who had the control over three cows, would never let them have a drop of milk for Cora. The child had for a long while after their coming, constantly repeated at every meal "Dinah, bing milk." She seemed to think her negress nurse was somewhere near her, and was able to bring anything she wished for, as formerly.

Her demands for milk, had ceased for a week or two, when one morning she again begged for it, and when told she could not have any, a look of extreme repression of feeling came over her features. She did not cry, or in any way show temper. The food was distasteful to the poor little thing; and the look of forced endurance, one may say that forced resignation and endurance combined, which we sometimes see in older faces and which is utterly discordant with their reasoning faculties, was distressing to behold in one so young. The child could not understand why she was not to have milk; but the brave spirit of her mother was her birthright, and like her mother, she endured disappointment without a murmur.

"This must not be any longer, Ada," said Miss Vyvyan. "It is too much for you to witness, and for Cora to suffer. That dear child shall have some milk. I will learn how, and I will milk one of those cows, whether Louisita's sword kills me or not."

"Dear Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "I pray you do not expose yourself to danger; do not be rash. Why what has come to you? I never heard you speak like that before."

"I know it, Ada, but you never saw me so placed else you would have. I detest selfishness, and you have been so kind to Louisita, and she is aware how precious Cora is to us. You know we shall not be depriving her of anything, because she told us she threw most of the milk away; but she encourages the cows to come here in order to keep them tame. You recollect that she told you the rest of the herd which stay on the other side of the island have become wild."

"I, of course, know that we should not be depriving Louisita," said Mrs. Carleton; "but I fear so much that she may hurt you."

"Only teach me a few words of Spanish, Ada," said Miss Vyvyan, "and I will put that out of her power. Teach me to say I am a spirit, you cannot harm me."

"I am afraid, Anna; for your own sake I would not have you go."

"I am not in the least afraid of her," replied Miss Vyvyan. "I have always done my best to help her, and I certainly intend to continue to be kind to her, because she needs help; but I never submit to injustice being done either to my friends or to myself. I consider it unjust to throw away the milk which Cora so much requires."

With those words Miss Vyvyan left the room. In a few minutes she returned.

"Ada," said she, addressing Mrs. Carleton, "my good old guardian, Sir Thomas, used to say 'All is fair in love and in war.' Now I am going to unite both love and war, for as I love you and Cora I must in all honor defend you both, just as some gallant knight would do if he were here. Put your hand on my shoulder and feel what is there."

Mrs. Carleton did so.

"Why, what have you under your dress?" said she.

"A whole suit of chain armor, Ada, that's all, and a helmet of the same under this lace scarf on my head. Louisita won't have the pleasure of piercing my heart this time, and when she finds that she cannot, she will think the spirits are round me, or that I am like the Indians and have a charm. I am going now; the cows are in sight. I saw how Louisita milked, and I think I can do it. Look down from the window, Ada, and see the fun."

"Anna be back," said the child, looking up with a face more full of anxious desire than inquiry.

"Yes, precious one," replied Miss Vyvyan, "Anna will come back."

No sooner had Miss Vyvyan approached the cow and was endeavoring to imitate as well as she could Louisita's way of milking, than the latter came striding out of the mound wearing her cavalry boots and flourishing her sword, exclaiming, as usual:

"Hence; away, away; all here is mine. Touch not that cow. I will pierce your heart."

Miss Vyvyan who heard it all did not take any notice of her, but went on with apparent indifference, pursuing her lacteal occupation. Louisita stood over her and went through all the sword exercises that she was mistress of. Still Miss Vyvyan continued her endeavor to milk, unharmed either by cut or thrust. Presently, turning to Louisita, she repeated her Spanish lesson as well as she could in the midst of her laughter.

"It is the fool who is laughing," said Louisita, looking up at Mrs. Carleton, who was leaning out of one of the tower windows. "It is the fool, who has not sense enough to know that she is not happy. I shall never interfere with her again; she can have all the milk she wishes for; she has a charmed life."



CHAPTER XII.

The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, Upon the place beneath. It is twice bless'd. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest.

Summers and winters went by; five years had passed since the family had been cast on the island; they had watched from the tower almost daily for a white sail, but none had ever appeared, and yet they always continued to hope that the day would come, and they struggled within themselves to be patient and cheerful. Sometimes the thought would take possession of the mind of each of the ladies, that one or other of them might die, and how terrible it would be for the one who was left, and worse still a thousand times, both of them might die and leave Cora; but neither of them would ever breathe a word which could convey such an idea to the other; and when such thoughts and feelings oppressed them, they took the best method of dispelling their anxiety by engaging themselves in some active occupation. They made a pretty garden for summer enjoyment out of doors, and another for winter in one of the large rooms, by filling boxes and chests with earth. They always had beautiful flowers in their parlor, which was a great source of delight to Cora, as well as to her guardians. The two guitars which they had found in the castle, they strung with wire, and managed to have some music every evening in the twilight; then they had a time set apart, also in the early part of the evening, which they called Cora's hour. For that period, they devoted themselves wholly to the recital of such subjects as were suitable and pleasant to her, and which they varied every day in the week, weaving each recital into a little story, sometimes telling from history; at another time, Mrs. Carleton would compose a story about Virginian life, and Miss Vyvyan would tell one about foreign countries; but the hour Cora liked best, was the one devoted to poetry and fairy tales. She was now in her eighth year, and could read very well; but there were no fairy tales among the numerous books in the library, so the ladies repeated them from memory. When the friends had put Cora to bed, they always remained together during the rest of the evening, working, and reading aloud to each other, making new dresses for Cora, who grew very fast, or planning some pleasant surprise for her, and as far as their present position allowed, always considering the child's future, and in what manner it was their duty to educate her, so that she might be best prepared to encounter any of the reverses or changes of condition, which fate brings into the lives of so many of us.

Louisita had taught the ladies how to poison some of the provisions with a plant which grew in the woods, and by so doing, and laying the poisoned food about the ground, they had destroyed nearly all the wolves, and now wandered about the island where they desired, making expeditions in search of flowers, or having little picnics for Cora in the woods, and visiting Ralph's cairn without their former fear. They had all been spending a long summer afternoon on the beach, the ladies seated on the rocks between Ralph's cairn and the sea, Mrs. Carleton working on a dress, that she was making for Louisita, Miss Vyvyan reading aloud, and Cora filling in the small open spaces in the cairn, with little stones of her own selecting. The sun had gone behind the hill on the western side of the castle, when the little party left Ralph's cairn and strolled along the shore, as they returned homeward, gathering the beautiful sea-pea blossoms on their way.

"Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "we have not seen Louisita to-day; shall we go to the mound and tell her that her dress will be finished in the morning, perhaps that would please her?"

"I am ready," replied Miss Vyvyan, "to go anywhere you please, Ada; you always know the right thing to do."

"May I stay a little way off with Anna," said Cora, "not far; I am afraid of Louisita, but I want to be near you mama, to take care of you. Don't you think, Anna, that Louisita is very cross," said the child.

"Not now, dear, she has been very gentle and quiet for the last year."

"I remember," the child continued, "a long time ago when I was little and you were trying to get some milk for me, and she hit you with her sword, she frightened me so; I was afraid she would kill you."

"She does not carry her sword any longer," said Miss Vyvyan, "and she does not scold us any more; she would not hurt any one now, your mama has been so kind to her, and set her such an example of goodness that she has made her good, too."

They had reached the entrance to the mound; Cora shrank back and clasped Miss Vyvyan's hand, who led her a few steps on one side.

"What is this," said the child holding in her hand a gold ornament set with garnets that she had just picked up from a heap of rubbish which appeared to be sweepings from Louisita's abode.

"That is a fibula, Cora, such as I saw in a museum in Norway."

"Look, Anna, look at these," she continued, gathering up several antique beads of glass mosaic and a few chess men of amber from the same place. "Tell me what they are?"

"They all came from Norway," replied Miss Vyvyan, explaining their use to her.

Mrs. Carleton meanwhile knocked on the broken planks which served for a floor, and as Louisita did not appear she entered the mound, but soon came out again, and whispered something to Miss Vyvyan who passed in, leaving Mrs. Carleton with Cora. On first entering, it was difficult to distinguish the interior of the place, or any of the numerous objects that it contained, as the only light came in through the shattered door, and a small hole on one side of the mound, which evidently served as a chimney and a window also. After a few seconds, when Miss Vyvyan's eyes became accustomed to the extremely subdued light, she saw that she was in a place that was four or five hundred feet in circumference and about twenty-four feet high. Advancing toward the side on which the hole was broken, she observed Louisita. A gleam of light fell upon her. She was kneeling in front of a small structure which formed a table. Her hands were clasped in the attitude of prayer, and her fixed and glassy eyes seemed to look up in the direction of a small silver crucifix, which hung on the wall before her. Her features were set and rigid. The rich brown Spanish tint had left her face. When Miss Vyvyan looked upon her she knew that she was dead, and, on laying her hand upon her cold brow, she concluded that death had taken place many hours previously; perhaps the night before. She summoned Mrs. Carleton, and bidding Cora sit down where they could see her from the inside of the mound, the ladies proceeded to lay Louisita to rest in the same tomb that had so long been her dwelling. They lifted her on to her bed; they folded the poor, tired hands of the weary woman, whose life had lingered on through those lonely, loveless years. They took the silver crucifix from the wall and laid it upon her breast; for although they were not of her creed, they respected her devotion. They felt thankful that in her lifetime they had done all they could to lighten her burden. They felt still more thankful for her own sake, that her pilgrimage was ended, and that she had gone to join the babes who were so dear to her mother's heart.

Not finding sufficient boards to close up the entrance securely, the ladies went to the further end of the place to get some which they saw there. The pile was very high, and as soon as they took hold of one, several other boards fell in broken pieces at their feet, revealing the ribs of an old Norwegian ship, inside of which lay the skeleton of a man which had been there so long, that it began to crumble to ashes the moment it was exposed to the air. They turned to leave the ship when another and much larger fall of boards exposed the skeleton of a horse. They paused a moment and looked round; they saw that Louisita was not in error when she had told them that the Norsemen were at one time on the island, for there was every evidence of the mound being the tomb of a Viking. Among the bones of the horse lay the remains of a bridle and saddle of leather and wood, the mountings of which were in bronze and silver. Near that of the man lay some ring-armor, a shield-buckle, two stones of a hand-mill for grinding corn, bits for bridles, stirrups, some gold finger rings and a fibula of the same metal. The ladies passed quietly out of the tomb, and built up the entrance as well as they could with stones and earth, across which they drew the vines and brambles that grew among the spruces close by, so that at the end of the following summer there was not any trace left of an entrance ever having been there.

* * * * *

Mrs. Carleton had missed Miss Vyvyan for a longer period of time than usual one day, and in going in search of her to a part of the castle which they rarely went into, she found her engaged in making a little gift to surprise Cora with, and singing in a low tone the following song:—

WHY?

Oh weary years why come and go With endless sorrow rife; And hope's dead dreams why come ye back To mock my empty life?

Oh destiny, oh bitter fate, Oh burning tears that start, Why must the hearts that love the most Forever dwell apart?

Mrs. Carleton entered the room so gently that Miss Vyvyan was not aware of her presence until the former was close beside her.

"You look sad, dear Anna; what can I do to cheer you?"

"This is a sad anniversary for me," replied Miss Vyvyan; "but I did not intend you to know it."

"Let us hope, Anna, that time will give us back some of our former happiness," said Mrs. Carleton.

"The grave is unrelenting, Ada; it never gives back what it has taken from us. I will tell you all some day. I cannot talk about the past now; it would unfit me for being of use to others who have suffered; it would make me no companion for you and dear Cora; it would be selfish to intrude my life upon you."

"No, Anna, pray tell me why I sometimes see so sad an expression on your face which you change the instant you find I am looking at you. You know you have never alluded to any event in your life prior to our being shipwrecked. You have told me of your childhood, certainly, but that was so bright and happy that the recollection of it must be an endless source of thankfulness. Now I again pray of you, tell me all."

"As you so much wish it, Ada," replied Miss Vyvyan, "I will tell you that the sunlight went out of my life too soon. At the time I first met you the world was all darkness to me; all my days and years were winter, and my only wish was to die."

"Oh Anna, do not say that," said Mrs. Carleton; "but go on and tell me why."

"Forgive me, I fear I was rebellious, but I only thought of the present. I could not look forward; it seemed as if there were no future for me here. I was alone; the only lips which had the right to breathe my name were sealed in death, and the stately dignity or cold respect with which I was always addressed reminded me hourly of my isolated existence. I have no words that can express to you the utter desolation I felt in having no one to call me by name. I often sought the whispering of the wind through the trees, the leaves and the long, waving grass in the hope that it might emit a sound which my fancy could fashion into the once familiar name, but all in vain; the trees and the leaves and the grass, even the rocks and hills, whispered and murmured and talked of many things, but the sound I most longed to hear came never."

Anna noticed that Mrs. Carleton looked sorrowful. She ceased speaking.

"Why did you stop, Anna; go on."

"I am distressing you, I see," answered Miss Vyvyan; "I ought not to pain you."

"Please go on, Anna."

"I cannot expect you to comprehend my exceeding loneliness at that time, because your life has never been empty, and you have now your beautiful child. When first I met you I had nothing. When I say nothing, I do not mean to infer that I was destitute of worldly means. I had an ample fortune which I inherited from my mother, besides the manor house and the landed estates of my grandfather; but I was destitute in the deepest sense; I had nothing of my own to love; I was alone. Do you know what that word alone means, 'when hope and the dreams of hope lie dead?' No, Ada, you cannot, God grant you never may. At length there dawned that rich, golden autumn day, when you named Cora, and gave me the right to say 'My.' The surprise was so great to me that I scarcely knew whether I was moving about in a dream, for my existence had been so long void of interest that I deemed happiness for me dead. But when I took Cora in my arms, and looked into the wondrous eyes, and saw the love, the purity and the delicate sensibility of the being to whom I could always in the future say 'My,' a new world and a new existence seemed before me, and I thought angel voices thus whispered and said, 'We have brought this beautiful child into your life to dwell forever as a sweet, fair flower in the garden of your heart.' And as the child grew and talked and called me by my name, the music of its voice and footstep gladdened my soul and sent a thrill of joy through my whole being. Ever since the day of our shipwreck, when you were lying on the beach so near death that I did not dare to allow myself to believe that you could live, (and may I say it, Ada, without seeming vain), when I was made the instrument to call you back to life. Ever since that day until this, you and Cora have seemed to belong to me; to be mine to love and live for. So you see you have brought back the sunshine into my life. I have finished; I shall never again talk in this way. My study shall be to brighten, not to sadden, the path which lies before you in the future."

Anna Vyvyan kept her promise to the end.



CHAPTER XIII.

The heart that has been mourning O'er vanished dreams of love, Shall see them all returning, Like Noah's faithful dove. And hope shall launch her blessed bark On sorrow's darkening sea.

* * * * *

I have had joy and sorrow; I have proved What lips could give; have loved and been beloved; I am sick and heart-sore, And weary, let me sleep; But deep, deep, Never to awaken more!

It was September again, and the golden rod and fall asters, that had for seven seasons been Cora's delight, were once more in their yellow and purple glory. The day was sunny, and the rich autumnal glow spread itself over the walls of the old castle, the forest, the rocks, and the sea, and the island and its surroundings seemed to the little family to be more beautiful than ever.

Mrs. Carleton was engaged in decorating the green parlor with flowers and trailing plants, which Miss Vyvyan and Cora had gathered for that purpose. The two latter had gone down among the trees near the beach to get the last basketful of moss to complete the work of adornment.

"Quick, Trefethen, quick, hand me my gun; see those birds, what an immense flight of them," shouted a strong masculine voice within a few yards of the trees which concealed them from view, and which also prevented them from seeing from whom the voice came.

"Don't fire," cried Miss Vyvyan, instantly catching up Cora in her arms as she used to do in the child's baby days.

"Don't fire," she repeated, "there are people here who are coming out of the woods on that side," at the same time, forcing her way among the trees, in the direction from which the voice came; and taking the advantage of making an inspection without being seen herself.

Cora caught sight of two figures standing on the open ground between the forest and the sea.

She clasped Miss Vyvyan's neck more tightly and whispered softly, "Look, Anna, there are two papas."

Miss Vyvyan paused, and looking between the branches she saw a tall, finely grown gentleman in the full military uniform of a colonel of the British army. By his side stood a man of smaller stature who wore the blue coat of a sea captain of that period. As the sunlight fell upon the bright scarlet uniform, the gold laced hat, the gold epaulets and the handsome scabbard which contained the colonel's sword, the child gazed in great amazement, not unmixed with admiration.

As we have already said, Cora was born brave, and like her mother struggled to keep up a calm courage through any emergency; but the poor little heart trembled a little when she said,

"Anna, I think he is a very pretty papa, but why does he wear that sword? Louisita used to wear a sword," she added.

"We are safe, Cora; he will not hurt us. He wears the uniform of our king. He would help us if we wanted him to."

"Shall we go to him?" said the child.

"Yes; we must so that we can tell your mama what sort of persons are on the island."

A few more steps took them out of the wood. Miss Vyvyan put the child out of her arms and led her. The gentleman in uniform advanced to meet them, and raising his hat said,

"Pray pardon me if I caused you any alarm. I did not know that this island was inhabited, and I saw so much wild fowl that the temptation to shoot was very strong."

"I can quite understand that," replied Miss Vyvyan. "We need no apology," she added, "as we were aware that most gentlemen enjoy sport, and your bearing and the uniform that you wear assure us that there is no cause for alarm."

The officer bowed low, but made no reply.

Cora, who was still holding Miss Vyvyan's hand, looked up at her and said again, "What a pretty papa, and more papas coming from the ship; but I like this one best."

The child's excitement was so great that her whisper was very audible to the officer.

"What does she mean?" he asked.

"That is her own way of expressing herself," Miss Vyvyan answered. "She calls all pictures of men papas. We think she has some recollection of her father, although she was little else than a babe when he was drowned here, which is seven years ago to-day. She appears in some mysterious way to realize that there was such a relationship, for she delights in looking at pictures of papas as she calls them, more especially such as are represented as wearing military uniform. And when she was very young I have often seen her press her cheek against that of a small statuette which we have of a soldier and kiss it and call it papa."

While Miss Vyvyan and the officer were still speaking Cora was examining the handsome uniform, and the gentleman was looking intently at the gold chain that the child wore round her throat. After a little conversation the officer addressing Miss Vyvyan said,

"I hope you will not think me too inquisitive if I ask whether this fair sea flower has a mother living."

"Oh yes," cried the child before Miss Vyvyan had time to reply, "I have the dearest mama in the world and we do love her so, don't we Anna?"

Cora in her enthusiasm let go Miss Vyvyan's hand, and taking hold of the officer's,

"Come," she said, "come with us and see her, and then you will love her, too."

Miss Vyvyan was about to suggest that probably the strange gentleman would prefer not to accept Cora's invitation until he had received one from her mother, when he interposed by asking Cora what her mother's name was.

"Why, it is mama," she replied.

"Yes, fair one; but she has another name."

"Oh, you mean Ada, that is what Anna calls her."

"She is Mrs. Carleton," said Miss Vyvyan.

"Great Heaven! my prayer is answered," exclaimed the officer. Turning quickly away for a few paces he covered his face with his hands, and his stalwart frame trembled with emotion.

"What is the matter," said Cora, "are you unhappy; never mind, do not be sorry, papa."

"Yes, my beloved child, I am indeed your own papa who has come back to you and mama; take me to her; I must go to her this moment, show me the nearest way."

Cora again clasped her hand round one of his fingers and as she lead him along she said, "Mama will be so happy for she thought you could never come back to us, and she often told me that if we were good we should go to you some day; poorest mama, big tears come into her eyes when she tells me about my papa."

Arriving at the end of the corridor leading to the green parlor Cora ran swiftly in advance of Miss Vyvyan and Colonel Carleton calling as she went,

"Mama, mama, we have found a real papa, not a picture, but my own papa."

Then came the meeting of the long-parted hearts and the recounting of events, which had taken place since the day on which destiny had torn the husband and wife from each other. Cora full of fresh young life joined in the conversation every instant, telling her father how they used to get the eggs of the sea birds and the honey from the wild bees' nest, and how they caught the sea perch from off the rocks, and how she found a jar of gold coins near the Vikings' tomb, which her mama said were pesos, and all about the fibula which she found there, also.

Then Colonel Carleton explained how he tried to rescue his wife and child, just as Ralph had told them a few days after they were wrecked; and how he was picked up by a young man from Wales who came out in the English ship, and was lashed to a floating mast by that brave young fellow, and by him kept from drowning until they fell in with a slave ship that was bound for the coast of Africa, but was also out of its course as well as their own unfortunate vessels; and how they were taken on board and kept toiling under an African sun for nearly seven years, when good fortune smiled upon them and they were sold as slaves and sent to the colony of Virginia.