over him, ventured to lay her tiny finger on the rings of pale gold hair that fell round his face in wild confusion. She touched the closed eye-lids, and put her cheek to the mouth, from which the breath could scarcely be perceived to issue; she lifted the hand, but it sank down again on the green grass; then the little maiden grew terrified, and began to weep.

Wake, beautiful stranger!-wake!--and I will take thee home, and make thee my brother! I will give thee honey and milk, and love thee! Dost thou hear? Wake, then!"

And, when there was no answer, the child knelt down, laid her young mouth close to those pale lips, and tried to breathe her soul into his with kisses.

They roused the boy to life,-ay, to a deeper life than that which then revived and lighted up his eyes with an almost adoring wonder as he beheld the face of Helys. From that hour, within the wild breast of the mountain youth there awoke the yet slumbering soul.

Month after month the stranger-boy dwelt in the house of Heremon. He learnt the Phoenician tongue, and then he told them of the savage home, far inland, from whence he had wandered, where men lived like wild beasts, and whence the orphan had been driven to dwell in the woods, or starve and die. And still, through all the rudeness of his mien, there shone out in him, day by day, a great and noble spirit, such as from time to time is born in the lowliest of earth's dwellings, to make of the man in whom it abides a ruler among his fellows, and a helper on of the world's great work.

Therefore it was not strange, if, when for a space this stranger-youth had grown wise in all the learning of the Phoenicians, he should yearn to go out into the wide world, and leave the spot which already confined his great soul. Sometimes when he talked of this, Heremon looked grave, and bade him rest and delve among the gold mines; for the old Phoenician loved the boy, and had given him, in addition to his savage name, that of Heremon's own brother Ith, so that the young Ith-Einar was counted as his adopted. And many a time did the child Helys, as she wreathed her arms round his neck, intreating him not to go away, think,-ay, and say aloud, in the simplicity of her heart, that never was brother so good, so noble, so beloved as he!

But when at last a Phoenician vessel touched the shore, and brought to the colonists strange tales of the world beyond the seas, Ith-Einar could resist no more. The ship bore back with it, over the ocean, the young pilgrim from this new land. Helys, still a child, wept at first a child's passionate tears; but, as she watched the white speck fade on the mysterious expanse of waters, these tears stilled themselves into feelings deeper and more silent. The golden mists had furled away from the young child's life:-it was no longer dawn.

MORNING.

creep over the hills, cloud-veiled at first, so that long after the time when the whole creation is full of renewed life, the dew still lies on the grass, a pale, dim shadow rests in the depth of the valleys, and the dim sky, covered with a silvery shroud, bends heavily down over the yet half-awakened earth, until suddenly the clouds part, and bursting through them, filling the world with a flood of light, appears at last the all-glorious sun? Then the whole earth breaks forth into singing, and rejoices, for the shadows are past, the perfect day is come.

She

So it was with the daughter of Heremon. grew up in her mountain solitudes, passing from childhood to maiden beauty, and still over her spirit hung a dim veil, beneath whose mysterious shadow the young virgin lived, even as the half-slumbering earth beneath the morning clouds. But when the time came, the veil was lifted, the clouds swept asunder, and the sun of her life arose.

Ith-Einar came back from over the seas, and stood before her whom he had left a child. He stood sublime in his youthful beauty, not only the outward beauty which dazzles the eye, but that which subdues the soul. He came from the East, with his mind rich in all the treasures of those glorious lands. The wisdom of Egypt, the luxurious grace of Tyre, the poetry of Greece, were in his heart and on his tongue. And more than all, there shone forth in his every tone and gesture the remembered tenderness of the old childish days. And Helys knew that he had brought back from those gorgeous climes the pure heart of the mountain-boy. Towards it her own sprang at once, and while her whole soul bent before him in almost worship, this olden tie caused to mingle therewith a human affection, deep and holy and enduring, which was to her as the very breath she drew. So these two loved one another. What more can tongue utter or pen describe of earthly joy?-the fullness of youth, of hope, of blessedness, the life of life, that is in those words, "they loved one another !” They had one mind, one heart, one soul. Her spirit, which had hitherto floated in crystal purity, like a stream yet ungazed on by the sun, received the impress of his, and sun-like he looked down from his high pathway, and saw his own image-not the less glorious because it was reflected in the still, clear waters of a woman's heart.

After a time there came a cloud over their glad morning. While the young lovers walked the world, seeing all around them, the earth below and the sky above, the past and the future, but in the light of this glorious dream, the old Phoenician bent over his gold mines, until his nature grew base and sordid. IthEinar, with his pure and continually-aspiring soul, seemed to Heremon like a reproving voice from the days of his own youth. He stood beside the miser, an image of that holier life from which he himself had turned away, and the dark, foul heart shrank from the glory of his presence.

dreams, and go and seek out a gold mine, then come back, and I will call thee my son."

And then Ith-Einar would in vain repress his proud bitter speech, while he turned and gazed in vague fear on the face of his beloved, lest he should read there one shadow betokening the low, mean soul that dwelt in her sire.

Love in a woman engrosses all things, atones for all things, but it is not so with man. Else why was it, that before many months had passed, Helys stood alone on the mountains? Ith-Einar was far away over the seas. He had come and gone like a dream, but when that dream was ended, its glory remained. Little of sorrow mingled with it, for she was so young, she had so much to hope. She knew he would come again, and so, after the parting tears were dried, she rested in the new life which he had kindled in her soul. She walked the mountain-paths he had trod, she learned unconsciously to speak his words, to think his thoughts, to love what he loved, to raise her yet unformed and girlish nature to all that was good and beautiful in his, that she might be like him and worthy of him, not only in outward things, but in the purest depths of her heart.

Thus the years crept by; but a year is so little when life is still in its morning. The flowers had time to gain a deeper perfume, the sky to grow bluer and purer-that was all. Helys went on her way, smiling still, and trusting evermore.

Heremon died, and the young Phoenician youths began to see how rich were the gold mines and how fair was the face of Helys. But she bent her proud head with a serene look, and turned away, sometimes smiling to herself that any one should dream a dream so wild, or think to win one glance from the betrothed of Ith-Einar.

| our land. Arise, my love, and come away . . . . O let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is lovely." But the streams alone answered her with their perpetual moan.

In the May twilight, when the young moon floated pale amidst the sunset glories, IIelys stood and wept. "O moon, that comest from the East, tell me if thou hast looked on the face of my beloved. Ith-Einar! Ith-Einar! are there no powers in earth or heaven that can bring me tidings of thee ?"

While Helys called aloud, there crept a deeper shadow over the valley; the streams seemed to cease their plainings, and to run without sound. And out of the mist there came a voice:—

"Child of the earth, thy great Mother heareth. Speak on."

The despair of love knows no fear. Helys trembled not, but answered, "O thou, if thou be the spirit of the earth, of which I have heard, how canst thou tell the depth of my sorrow? What should thy cold breast know of love, and of love's sufferings? Is there aught in the dull realm of inanimate nature, which can answer to the agony of a human soul?"

The voice replied, "O vain doubter, the whole universe is filled with the spirit of love. It runs through my deep bosom like a living tide, making the flowers spring up, and the trees bear fruit, and the face of the wide world become fair. Why is it that, when my children look on these things, they feel their hearts glow within them, and they long to love and be loved? Because my power is upon them, and the spirit within me answers to theirs. All nature has but one soul, which is universal love.”

Helys listened, yet the words seemed strange; she understood them not. Her woman's heart had but one voice, and that cried ever in its mournful intensity, "The world is nought to me--I live alone in Ith-Einar."

Helys sat often between the beautiful streams, thinking of them in this wise, and hearing in their mournful, yet subdued lament, the echo of her own. Patient she was amidst her loneliness, until the spring came out upon the hills, and sent up from the valleys a tender voice. Then Helys wept more and more, and there rang for ever in her heart these words from a strange Book which Ith-Einar had heard in the East, and of which he often spake :

"The winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in

of my fate."

"Even so," answered the solemn voice. "As surely as that these rivers shall one day meet and mingle their waters, so surely shalt thou and thy beloved become one-heart to heart, soul to soul. When the time cometh, remember!"

The maiden fell to the earth in a deep swoon of joy. When she awoke, it was day. Sunshine filled the vale, and danced upon the two streams. Already each had somewhat altered its channel, and creeping along over the velvet sward, drew nearer to its fellow. And as, day by day, both grew, and what was once green grass and flowers became murmuring waters, Helys watched the marvel, strength and hope came into her heart, and she believed.

NOON.

grew. I became a proselyte. I heard words sublime and wise as I had never heard before. They told me that in such a voice had this mighty One spoken unto man. Then my soul grew dumb before His holiness and His glory, and I worshipped the God of the Hebrews."

Ere long she saw that over this beloved face there had come a change. A grave thoughtfulness sat ever in the calm eyes. The very smile of the beautiful lips was sad ; and through them the words of love came seldom, or with a solemn tenderness that moved her almost to tears. When she asked why it was thus with him, Ith-Einar answered that he had travelled far and suffered much,-that the world hardly seemed the same as in the days of their first youth.

"What is the world to us in our beautiful valley?" the maiden would say. "There we will rest-thou and I; and I will comfort thee, and thou shalt suffer no more." But Ith-Einar smiled mournfully and answered her not a word. When the sun went down, and the valley grew solemn and still in the twilight shadows, he took his betrothed by the hand and said-" Helys, listen to what is in my heart. That heart was once laid bare to thee, with all its dreams, all its aspirations. It was young then, now it is old, or seems so. Helysthere is a deeper, and a higher life than that of love." The girl trembled, and her eyes sought his, but they were lifted towards the stars. "It must be so, since thou sayest it," she answered meekly.

He went on, "I thirsted for knowledge-for happiness-most of all for truth. I sought, from land to land, some deep well of wisdom and purity, whereof my soul might drink and be satisfied, but found only broken cisterns. Then I began to hate the world, and all it contained. It mocked me, I gave it back scorn for scorn. I think now, when I look in thine eyes, my Helys,”—and his tone softened, "that perhaps it might not have been thus with me, had I stayed in these mountains, where the dew of thy pure spirit could ever have fallen on me. But that is over

now.

"I came to a land renowned in the East for its wisdom, and pomp, and power. I had stood among the people of Egypt and of Greece, while they adored gods-some beautiful, some foul in form, and laughed secretly at their idle dreams. Now I beheld a temple where was worshipped One whom none saw, but whose presence filled the shrine. I asked more concerning this great undefined Spirit, which seemed to resemble a power which I had imagined and in whose existence I longed to believe.

"They answered me, that I was not one of the holy people, that I could not pass beyond the outer court. But the more my desire was withheld, the stronger it

Helys gazed on her lover in wonder and awe, for his countenance shone with almost superhuman brightness. "Thou shalt teach me more of this Divine

66

Ith-Einar pressed her hand, but his eyes did not turn towards her, and soon the light faded from his face: when he again spoke, his voice had sunk from its deep, sublime tones to a low and tremulous murmur. Helys, the beloved of my youth, thou must listen to me yet longer. When after its struggles and wanderings my soul had found the one great truth, it rejoiced with exceeding gladness. Then I vowed a solemn vow that I would show forth unto the dark world the light that was within me,-that I would carry unto the far west this glory and this joy, and so atone for the pride and hate and scorn which had been in my evil heart towards my brethren."

"Let it be so, then," said Helys, and a glad light was in her saint-like eyes. "A little sad it will be, to leave this fair vale, but thy wisdom is best. We will go forth, my beloved, into the wide world, and enter together upon this noble work of thine."

Ith-Einar covered his face in his robe, and when he lifted it, it was pale, stern, and passionless, like that of a statue. "The God of the Hebrews receives not blemished offerings. I vowed to him wealth and life, body and soul. No human tie may stand between me and the great cause for which I live. Helys, I must go forth alone!"

O ye stars, look down solemn and calm on that wild thrill of woman's agony, too deep for words, for groans, for tears,-silent as death itself, for it was likest death. Helys had knelt beside him when she last spoke; she knelt still.

Ith-Einar stood there too, without a word. He dared not look in her face, but he laid his hand upon her head in a blessing, solemn and mournful.

And he

"We will talk no more now, Helys; I must quit thee awhile, for it is the hour of prayer." passed slowly up the valley, leaving her kneeling still.

A moment more, and through that dull trance broke the pleasant murmur of the two streams. Then Helys threw herself on the grass and wept aloud. None ever knew the terrible despair that poured itself out, and then grew sublimed into strength and calmness beneath the eternal stars.

When the Hebrew proselyte had finished his prayer, his betrothed stood beside him.

Ith-Einar," she said, in a low sweet voice, "my beloved! thou shalt keep thy vow: I am content."

He turned, and his heart failed him a little. "I dare not repent me, and yet it is bitter. I never thought of thee, O my childhood's love! Would that I had died!"