that I am rich. I dare not appear before you till I hear the refutation of your reported engagements with Marcus-till you bid me look forward to a termination of the misery which a feeling of honor obliged me to inflict upon myself." Marion sank for support against the ivy-twined pillar of the summer house. Edith kissed her pale cheek, and fondly whispered, "I told you so: what answer will you send?" After the first moments of tremulous agitation—after an interval of silence, to lull the tumults of her heart, Marion merely ejaculated, "Poor Vibert! I thought he had forgotten me!" "Rather say, poor Edith," replied her sister, with a burst of that natural gaiety which had of late almost forsaken her; "poor Edith has now the willow-wreath all to herself. Alas! for some doughty champion to twine it round the neck of the false lord of Heroncliff! "Here-here is a pencil-the servant waits for a reply." Marion tore the back from her letter, and wrote "The reports are unfounded-the future is in your power." "Edith!" she said, when the messenger was dismissed, " give me your arm back to the house, for I feel faint. In the midst of all this happiness, there is a sickness at my heart-a strange boding, that I am only tantalized by chimeras, and meant for misfortune. Perhaps I deceive myself. Perhaps it is only the strange bewilderment occasioned by this revolution in all that interests me. I cannot help it." It was a gusty and querulous night. The old trees by their window groaned as though they were in trouble, and the scud swept along the sky like a host of spectres. Marion's distressing fancies were not to be calmed, and grew even more excited by the restless and apparently preternatural spirits of her sister, who discussed their prospects in her wildest vein. She arranged that when Marion became the lady of Hazledell, she also was to call it her home, make herself the sole object of attraction and tournament to all the squires round about, and display her true dignity by remaining a scornful lady and a respectable maiden aunt. By degrees, her fancy ceased castle-building— a few unconnected sparks of vanity grew fainter and fainter, and she dropped asleep. Marion had no wish or power to repose; her nervous sense of apprehension continued to increase; she tried every effort to direct her thoughts to other subjects, but they invariably became entangled, and again pressed with a dead weight upon her heart. In this mood she was startled by Edith laughing in her sleep, with a sound which terrified her. "Edith!" she cried, shaking her till she partially awoke; " Edith—you frighten me-why do you laugh in your sleep?" "I laughed," replied Edith, drowsily, and scarce knowing what she said, "I laughed at some one who preached to me of the vanity of human expectations." She again muttered a laugh, and a second time dropped asleep. Notwithstanding the note of Marion, the night at Hazledell had seemed to bring with it a sense of sadness, no less than it had done at Silvermere. Vibert's uncle had retired to rest with an ominous feeling of distress at the news of his deceased relations. After a while he had come back to shake hands with him again. The young ones, he said, were dropping about him, and leaving him desolate to lament the luckless humors which had impeded him from adding to their comforts as he might have done. Every joint of him trembled lest he should live too long. "God bless you, Vibert!" he added, "you have always been a good boy, and have borne kindly with my infirmities-God bless you! God bless you! Vibert, you will go to-morrow to Silvermere? I have long prevented you from being happy, and you owe me no thanks that you are so at last. Go to bed-you have grown thin from want of sleep; and it is all my fault." He quitted him again with affectionate and almost childish reluctance; and Vibert paced his room, in a fever of anticipation, till the rising of the sun, which had seemed as if it never meant to rise again. It was still too early to set out for Silvermere, but he knew that Marcus rose with the dawn for his field-sports, and his generous mind was unwilling to lose an instant in acknowledging and asking pardon for the suspicions which he had entertained of his friendship. He walked rapidly to Heroncliff, and found Marcus, as he had anticipated, up and dressed; in fact, he had passed the night in the same manner as he himself had done, and his face looked haggard and wild. "Marcus," said Vibert, "I come to tell you a piece of strange news "I know it already," replied Marcus, with an attempt to look glad. "I met your servant going to Silvermere with it. Your uncles in India are dead.” "I scarcely recollect them, and it would therefore be ridiculous to affect much grief for their loss; but the circumstance has been the means of showing me an injustice committed against yourself, at which I am sincerely grieved. I believed that you entertained an intention of supplanting me in the love of Marion; and although my reason had nothing to object to it, my heart felt that it was not the part which I would have acted towards you. I have accused you bitterly; but see, Marion has herself exculpated you; and you must even forgive me as one who has been too unhappily bewildered to be master of himself." Marcus took his offered hand and laughed, but with a fearful expression, which he strove to hide casting his eyes on the ground. “Then Marion,” he observed, “looks forward to being the lady of Hazledell ?” "Ay, and to do the honors of it to her sister, the lady of Heroncliff. My son shall marry your daughter, and we will join the estates in one." Marcus drew in his breath with a harrowing sound. Vibert," he said, "we had best remain unmarried; we are more independent to pursue our pastimes: we are not obliged to receive the society which is odious to us; and, whilst we are free, we are the more welcomed abroad. Promise me you will think no more of it." "You would not ask it, if you felt, like me, that you were beloved by Marion. What do I care for independence and my reception abroad, when I have such a thraldom and such a paradise at home!" "You are determined, then ?" "Can you doubt it? I am even now on my way to Silvermere. I should arrive too soon on horseback, and am therefore obliged to walk, for I cannot be easy till I find myself on my way thither. Come, take your gun, and accompany me." "I will accompany, in the hope of dissuading you, and bringing you back before you arrive there." “And I will drag you into fetters whether you will or not. Come; it is time to start, if we would be there by breakfast-time. What ails you? You look pale and shivering, this morning; and see, for the first time in your life, you have forgotten your gun." With that he kindly took it from where it stood, and presented it to him. "I will not take it," said Marcus, vaguely; "I am nervous, and cannot shoot." "Tut, man; take your gun, I say; a good shot will put you in spirits. There is an outlying deer from Hazledell in the Black Valley, and you must kill him for our wedding feast." Marcus bit his white lips, and did as he was bidden; and the companions set out upon their walk. The weather was still gusty and uncertain. The faint gleam of the sun was rapidly traversed by the clouds, which seemed to overrun each other, in wild and fearful confusion. Several large trees were blown across the pathways, and the crows skimmed aloft in unsettled course, as though they were afraid to perch. "How I love this bracing air!" said Vibert. "I feel as if I could fly." "You feel elastic from your errand. I have no such cause, and I would fain that the morning had been calmer. I think that long usage to blustering weather would have a strong effect upon men's passions, and render them too daring and reckless." As they descended the brow of fern and scattered plantations, from his bleak residence, his persuasions that Vibert would return became more and more urgent. He used, in a wild, disjointed manner, all the vain arguments to which the selfish and the dissipated generally resort to dissuade their friends from what they call a sacrifice of liberty. They were easily overruled, and his agitation grew the more violent. In this manner they arrived at the entrance of the Black Valley, a gorge of rock, and varied earth, choked up by trees and bushes, chance-sown, by the birds and the winds. This valley was between two and three miles in length, its gloom was unbroken by a single habitation, and it had been the witness of many atrocities. It was a place usually avoided; but it was the shortest road to Silvermere, and Vibert never visited it by any other. "I do not like this valley!" said Marcus; " we will take the upper road." "It is too far about-come on-you are not yourself this morning, and the sooner Edith laughs at you the better." They were making a short cut through the tangled thicket, from one path to another, and had reached a more gloomy and savage spot than they had hitherto encountered. Marcus sat down upon a piece of splintered timber, and motioned Vibert, with a gasping earnestness which was not to be disputed, to seat himself beside him. "Marcus," said the latter, as he complied, "your conduct is inexplicable. Why are you so anxious that I should not go to Silvermere, nor renew my acquaintance with Marion? You must have some reason for all this; and, if so, why conceal it from me?" "If nothing short of such an extremity will induce you to follow my counsel, I must even come to it. Marion is not what you have supposed her. You imagine that her love for you has kept her single. Ask of whom you will, if such be the general opinion. Till yesterday, she gave herself to another, who cannot aspire to a thousandth part of your merit, but who happened to be more favored by fortune. Last night, you became the richest, and she changed; but would Vibert be contented with a partner who preferred another?" "Marcus!—this other! It is of yourself you speak?" “Ask all the world, if she did not make herself notorious with me. She made me distrust all womankind. Vibert, let us both leave her to the reflections of one who has deserved to be forsaken." “May it not be that you, and not I, have mistaken her? She might have preferred your company because you were my friend, and you might have fancied that she loved you because you loved her. It is needless to contradict me-men do not tremble and turn pale because their friends are going to marry jilts. I do not blame you; for not to love Marion is beyond the power even of friendship. Let us only be fair rivals, and not attempt to discourage each other by doing her injustice. Let us go hand in hand, and each prefer his suit. For my part, I promise you, that if you succeed, I will yield without enmity." Marcus staggered as he rose. Vibert's countenance was grave but not unfriendly. "Go on then," said the former, in a deep broken voice, and with every feature convulsed; at the same time, he turned himself homeward; and Vibert, seeing that it was advisable to part company, pursued his course towards Silvermere. Marcus made but a few strides and paused. He clenched his teeth, and cast a wild glance at his rifle-made one or two hesitating steps, and then bounded after. Long and intense was the watch which the sisters kept that morning in the direction of the Black Valley, but no one was seen to come forth from it. "In other times," said Marion, " Vibert could arrive to breakfast, and it is now long past noon." Edith was not mistress of the gay consolation which had so often turned a tear to a smile, and framed an excuse out of the wild and stormy weather, which it was evident her own heart could not admit. "He did not use to mind stormy weather," returned Marion. "Besides, we heard a shot fired, and we know that no one has the range of the Black Valley but Vibert and his friend Marcus." "It was, perhaps, only the cracking of some time-worn stem, giving way to the hurricane; and, if it was a shot, we must take into consideration the peculiar nature of our cavaliers of the world, and make allowance for what they cannot help. How can we suppose that Vibert could pass the Badger's Bank without paying his compliments to the wild cat, or enjoying the shriek of the bird of prey that comes thither to tear his victim? He will be here to dinner, and make amends for his slowness by a strange tale of the wonders which caused it." Edith, you are drawing the character of Marcus-this is not like Vibert." "Well, well, then-do not speak with such a tremor, and he shall be a bright exception; and the only punishment he shall have is to be dismissed from your mind, just whilst I tell you why I have been thinking of the faithless Marcus. Do you listen? Yes. Why, then, dear Marion, I must have you guess the reason for my sage determination to obtain reverence as a maiden-aunt." "Edith- !" "Yes, yes I see you have guessed aright. "Tis a false-hearted-but, Marion, he was my first; and to be deserted for you is not a crime which makes him an absolute monster. Come away from this window, and let us rest our eyes, for they have followed the battling of the kites and crows till we grow giddy, and dreamy, and fanciful. Come, come, my bride of Hazledell, and listen to the lost wits of the soon undisputed pride of Silvermere." It was late in the day when they joined the rest of the family, and still no tidings had been heard of Vibert. There was a silence in the circle which proved that their uneasiness was not confined to themselves, and presently the consternation was completed by the mysterious countenance of a servant who called out his master. Marion and Edith clasped each other's neck in the sure presentiment of something fatal. The truth was less cruel than their suspense, for though communicated with all the care and tenderness which its nature required, it left them insensible to the horrors of which they had been the victims. The sisters and the two friends were doomed never to meet again. The fate of Vibert had been discovered by the game-keepers as they were taking their evening round, by the spot where he had been left bleeding and breathless by the dastard hand of his rival. That of Marcus was best known to the fiends which pursued him. We will not swell our history with an account of all the gradations by which a thrilling horror may settle down to a calm and lasting woe. The first news which followed the foregoing events related to Vibert's uncle. His infirm frame had sunk beneath his affliction, and he lay in the family.. vault beside his unfortunate nephew. Of Marcus, nothing had ever been heard. A stranger had been found, apparently self-destroyed, in a distant part of the country, but nobody had come forward to recognize him. There was, of course, a surmise that this might have been the fugitive, Marcus, and, whether true or false, he never gave grounds for any other. Years passed away, but the characters of Marion and Edith resumed no more their natural tone. The last was never seen to resume her smiles, nor the first drop a tear. Their feelings had been trampled down too rudely to spring again. What were their fates eventually is an inquiry of small importance-the history of their hearts is concluded. "ELLE ME VO IT." Though I may roam Italia's plains, And while in mirth's most joyous round, The happiest moments still I've found, Have been while thinking, "Elle me voit." Tho' gayest scenes my visions fill, And all my waking thoughts employ; Tho' for a time I'm happy, still I think and feel but, "Elle me voit." FERD. THE ETERNAL FIRE ON THE BANKS OF THE CASPIAN SEA. BY JOHN EICHFELD. THIS fire is in the peninsula of Apscheron, twenty versts from Baku, and is justly called one of the wonders of southern Russia. I have visited this spot. It is a burning desert, from the surface of which subterraneous flames here and there issue, which are occasioned by the exhalations of the naptha. Though this fire may not be eternal, yet it is extremely old, for there are traditions of the origin of similiar phenomena in other parts; for instance, in the Ural, on the river Mangischlak, in the village of Sulp-Aul (v. Pallas) and that which I have seen in Wallachia, on the little river Slanika, near the village of Lapatar, on Mount Klaschna. But the origin of the fire in the neighborhood of Baku is buried in the obscurity of the remotest antiquity. The first appearance of this fire, in an age when the phenomena of nature were so little known and explored, might appear supernatural. It is well known that Media was the seat of Zoroaster's doctrine, and the introduction of those mysterious receptacles of the eternal fire, which the Mahometans every where destroyed. Only the miraculous flame of Baku arrested the blind fury of the Mahometans. The temple consecrated to fire is still preserved by the remnant of the ancient Parsees, or fire-worshippers, who, though scattered over the immense tracts of Persia and India, come hither to perform the prayers imposed on them by their vows. This temple, however, is no beautiful specimen of architecture, but a simple stone square, in the centre of which stands the altar, from which issues the eternal fire. The flat roof is supported on four columns, from which a constant fire, conducted by tubes, likewise ascends. On the roof, above the altar, is a little belfry. On dark nights this temple is descried even at a great distance, and is the more interesting and majestic in the eyes of the traveller, as the brilliant flame does not resemble Vulcan's destructive fire, but is like some mysterious phenomenon awakening sublime recollections of antiquity. Within the wall which surrounds the temple, there are some stone houses, and a small garden, the residences of eight Parsee monks. During the time of worship, they strike the bell once, generally on their entrance into the temple, and then prostrate themselves before the altar. After remaining for a pretty considerable time in this position, they arise, strike the bell once more, and then finish their prayers. They give the fire the firstlings of every sort of food. They eat no meat, and live entirely on vegetables. Their particular affection to animals is probably the cause of it; the guardians of the Holy Fire keep a great number of dogs, which they treat as friends and companions. It is evident that they prefer their religion to all others, and consider themselves as purer than other men, because they are favored with the purest notions of the divinity. In conversing with persons of a different religion, they protect themselves by certain prayers, which they repeat in an under voice. They seemed much displeased when my companions were going to dress their dinner at the same fire as theirs. To satisfy them, I had the kettle removed to another part. When they carried water near us, they always cried out, Brama, Brama, Brama, doubtless to counteract our influence upon it. Perhaps they have a particular respect for water; at least, in remote antiquity, it was considered, by many of the followers of Zoroaster, as a divinity. The atmosphere in the temple, and in the surrounding court-yard, is very warm, on which ac. count the monks wear a very light clothing. It is reported that the monks, in former times, frequently made singular vows; for instance, to remain for several years in a constrained attitude, with their arms raised, or holding up one foot, etc. * They originated, at no very distant period, by the lightning having rent the upper hard layer of the mountain, which made an issue for the inflammable vapors, and, at the same time, caused the flames to arise. †The Europeans call them, as well as all other fire-worshippers, Guebers; which seems to be a corruption of the Persian word Giaur, by which they designate all those who profess a different re ligion. They call the Russians, Sare-Giaur, or Sare-Guebr, i. e. light brown idolators; probably be cause they observe fewer persons with black hair among them, than among the people of Asia. This, indeed, has ceased; but they still endeavor, as they used to do, to prevent the women from approaching the sacred fire; probably, that their presence may not divert their attention. In every thing that surrounds them, these monks are very neat and cleanly. They have no superfluity, but poverty is unknown among them. Their cells are likewise lighted by the subterraneous fire; which is easily extinguished by covering the vent through which the gas issues. The verdure of the garden on the other side of the court-yard of the temple, and the delightful shade of the trees, afford these hermits a refreshing coolness. If superstition finds, in the evanescent flame, an object of adoration, no inconsiderable advantage is derived from the naptha, which is so common here, and in the neighborhood, and yields to the crown an annual revenue of 200,000 rubles. That the sigh, and the care, and the reckless breeze Where streamlets, murmuring, glide and willows Of the world should reach thee not? Or for him, who, full of Isaiah's fire, Where seraph and saint and golden lyre wave. It is Vincenzio! not the cavalier On moonlight lake or in romantic dell. Or for him, the bard, who, by moonlight, strung Where Death and Beauty in dark wedlock sleep; His harp on lake or lea, While echo replied, as beauty sung, And all the warmth that urged the warrior's brow But who found, 'mid the fair, the gay, the young, Thus teaching us that love's the only light No kindling theme but thee? Thus sang a young crusader, when the stars To guide us thro' this sublunary night; SIGMA. |