The speaker was a young girl, whose dress, plain and coarse as it was, betrayed much of that simple gentility, which often appears instinctive in woman. Her face was of uncommon, and very peculiar beauty. A profusion of light brown hair drooping about her neck, and the deep fringe which veiled her large blue eyes, gave the upper part of her face an expression of pathetic, almost of melancholy loveliness; but her fair, dimpled cheek, and her laughing lip, rising at one corner, in most captivating archness, seemed like sunshine bursting beneath a summer cloud, and rapidly chasing away its shadow. Her figure, though slender and graceful, possessed the full, round outline of perfect health. Had it been embodied in statuary, one would have imagined the sculptor had half finished a Psyche, when Hebe came bounding along his path, and fascinated him from his purpose. Vandellyn had always shunned the society of women; but his fancy, cultivated as it was to excess, had conjured up many a romantic vision of love and beauty. Years of total seclusion would probably have rendered a less enthusiastic temperament than his, susceptible of sudden passion; therefore, though timidity induced him to retire hastily, it is not surprising that the fair being, so unexpectedly seen, should seem to more than realize his youthful dreams. As he watched the boat, which conveyed her from the shore, he soon perceived that the boy had great difficulty in managing it. Experience had made him thoroughly acquainted with the navigation of Lake George; and he knew that it was frequently rendered dangerous by powerful under

currents, the irregularity of which puzzles the ablest pilots. They are probably occasioned by winds rushing from caverns in the earth; for the waters of the lake are often billowy, when not a leaflet is stirring on its shores. Vandellyn, while waiting for it to subside, had sometimes compared it to the human mind, fretting and foaming from the contradictory influence of its own strong passions, till the calm majesty of nature could leave no image there; but he did not now waste time in poetic revery. With sudden impulse, he sprang into his own light skiff, and before the object of his pursuit had reached the middle of the lake, he was at her side, urging her to trust herself to his skilful guidance. The astonished girl blushed exceedingly. She had heard much of the Recluse of the Lake, and she knew that his present graciousness of manner was very extraordinary. However, terror overcame her bashfulness; and she told her little brother, if the boats could be fastened together, she should be much obliged to the stranger gentleman for setting them on shore. The proposal seemed to relieve the boy from much anxiety; and he evinced his gratitude by the most assiduous attention to their conductor.

Vandellyn and his companion were both eager to speak; but embarrassment kept them silent, and gave their interview the appearance of a cold, accidental encounter. However, as the boat was safely drawn up to the margin of the lake, and the young lady thanked him for his prompt assistance, she could not fail to remark the delighted expression of his eye;

and the boy was surprised by an earnest invitation to visit the hermitage the ensuing day. Never did impatient childhood watch for tomorrow with such keen anticipation. The lad could scarcely believe that he was indeed invited into that abode of hidden magnificence; and, when the remarkable event had in reality happened, he could hardly detail its particulars to his sister, so great was the delirium of his joy and wonder. "Oh, Mary," exclaimed he, "you don't know, and you can't guess anything about it. I never was in such a place in all my life. He an't proud; Mr Vandellyn an't proud, as they say he is. You don't know how good he was, and how many questions he asked about you. He gave me the handsomest bird-cage in the whole world, and the handsomest bird in it; and he said that I was such a fine boy he must send me to college. I told him your name was Mary Campbell; and that our father was dead; and that we used to be better off than we are now; and that the woman at Diamond Isle was not our own grandmother, only father's mother-in-law; that we did not live there, but had leave to stay a few weeks, till we could get good places out at service." "But you should not have told him that, George," interrupted his sister. "And why not, when he asked me every word?" said the boy. Mary Campbell could hardly answer to her own heart, why Arthur Vandellyn should not be acquainted with her place of residence, as well as her utter poverty. She knew little of a sinful world; but she had read in books that the poor maiden has much to dread from the rich man's love;

and, when she recalled the deference of the stranger's manner, and the beaming expression of his eye, as he bade her farewell, she shuddered, and even wept, that things, so pleasant to memory, should be so dangerous.

Could she have looked into Vandellyn's heart, her fears would have vanished. His love was indeed wild and vehement; but it was guileless as infant thought. It was a poet's dream, never to be realized by imperfect humanity; but it originated in pure and bonorable feeling, and might easily be changed to something better, and more permanent than the illusive delights of an overheated imagination.

From the moment Mr Vandellyn heard George Campbell's story, he resolved to educate both him and his sister for that higher grade of society, which beauty and talents so well fitted them to adorn. After two days' reflection upon the subject, he visited Diamond Isle for the purpose of making his intentions known. His repeated summons at the door of the hut were answered by the old woman, who, showing a face squalid as disease and poverty could make it, shrilly demanded his business. "Is Miss Campbell here?" inquired her shrinking visiter. "Yes," was the laconic reply. "May I see her?" "No, that you mayn't, sir," answered the beldame, fiercely; and, adding a torrent of abuse, which we forbear to repeat, she shut and fastened the door with all possible violence.

Her loathsome appearance, and the angry coarseness of her language, were a powerful antidote to the romance of benevolence and love; and for several

days, Vandellyn cherished the idea that one connected with such a woman must be tinged with her vulgarity as well as ignorance. Nursed in the lap of luxury, the poet made no allowance for the corroding influence of poverty; and innocent of all wicked intentions, he could not believe the grandmother's harshness originated in kind and judicious watchfulness; but the more reluctant he felt again to encounter the virago of the island, the more his curiosity increased with regard to the pretty stranger.

He was revolving these thoughts in his mind late one summer's afternoon, when he saw Mary and her brother passing swiftly by, as if they wished to reach home before the twilight closed. He instantly joined them, and urged them to walk in to look at the birds and flowers. The girl's modest "No, I thank you," was uttered in a tone so mild, he could not think it a very firm refusal; but when he repeated his request, she replied, with something of indignant decision, "No, I thank you, sir. It is quite time we were at Diamond Isle." The Recluse perceived he was distrusted, and his cheek glowed with honest indignation at the thought; but he bowed low, as he added, "Pardon the improper request; and allow me to make some slight atonement for my rashness." He darted into the house, and soon returned with a large, beautiful bouquet. George cast back "many a lingering look"; but Mary had walked on so fast, that it was difficult to overtake her. She was, however, evidently pleased with the respectful manner in which the flowers were offered; and, before they proceeded far,