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 . 16, 1861.] beautiful music to those who knew the mysteries of its delicate mechanism.”

“But perhaps I might not have known how to awaken it,” said Helen. “Oh yes, you would. You have the answering music in your own soul. And that reminds me of the music I heard the night before last, when I was lying in the woods watching for the panthers. A high wind was tossing and swaying the tree tops far above my head, and the whole forest seemed one grand organ, the trees its mighty pipes, But if I dreamed any inspired dreams, or saw any celestial visions, that night, I was awakened from them rudely enough in the morning.”

“How so?” asked Helen. “By the panthers. I had found their den by their tracks, but it was so late in the evening when I got there, that I thought it likely they were out looking for food; so I made a great fire near the den, and waited till morning. Towards daybreak I let the fire go out, lest it should keep the panthers, and I placed myself where I thought I should have the best aim, if they came to the den, as I expected. I had not waited long before one of them appeared, carrying a young fawn. He did not see me, so I was able to take very cool aim at him, and hit him in a mortal part. He fell dead at once, and I kept my rifle ready for his mate, for I thought she was behind him, when the breaking of a rotten branch made me look round, and there was the female panther, crouching on a tree close to the mouth of the den, just ready for her spring.”

Helen shuddered.

“What did you do?” she said, eagerly.

“I acted from impulse, I believe, without much thought of what I was doing. It was not pleasant to see her blazing eyeballs, and I should not have been surprised if my shot had failed; but it did not. Just as she sprang I fired, and glad enough I was to see her roll over, and lie dead.”

“And yet you said there was no danger?”

“Only a little new and then; enough to give zest to the sport,” said Keefe, laughing. “However, I own I was well pleased to take their ears and come home conqueror.”

“What are their ears for?” asked Helen.

Keefe laughed.

“I brought them home as trophies,” he said; “bears’ paws, elks’ horns, eagles’ talons, and the ears of wolves and panthers are our only trophies in these woods: we haven’t even the dignity of a scalp-lock. We are like the old Berserkers, before they became Vikings; our heroism consists in felling forests and killing wild beasts.”

“Some of you have a good share of the bravery and seamanship of the Vikings, I think, if you have not their practical propensities: I wonder if any of them would have dared as much to rescue a stranger from death as you did?” said Helen.

“Oh, that was nothing,” said Keefe, “there’s not a good sailor on the lakes wouldn’t have done it. But there’s Mrs. Wendell looking out for you.”

Keefe always felt vexed when Helen made any allusion to his having saved her life; at such times he always fancied that gratitude was the only tie she acknowledged between them, and it was something for deeper and tenderer that he longed to receive from her; gladly would he have exchanged all the gratitude one human being could bestow on another for the smallest grain of spontaneous sympathy and liking. Highly as be estimated her perfections, he felt that his nature was of that true and noble manliness whose superiority every genuine woman involuntarily recognises, and he knew that his love for her was of that single, strong, and steadfast kind, which merited the same in return, but how could he hope that Helen would see all this, when it seemed to him that he had so little power of showing it. And then he resolved, as he had often done before, that he would yet do something which should prove his right to rank with the great men whom Helen so devoutly honored, and win from her at least approbation, if nothing more. But how to make or find an opportunity that might call out the latent powers he felt within him was the difficulty, a difficulty which the strength of circumstance usually renders insurmountable to all but the mightiest minds. Still he felt himself strong in courage and will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. Helen was joyfully welcomed by Mrs. Wendell, and the reception was not the less warm, because she was accompanied by Keefe. The good woman brought out her choicest preserves, sweet cake, and pies, spreading such a tea table of substantial dainties as is never to be seen out of America, and she seemed to find the most intense satisfaction in pressing the nicest morsels on the young pair, for whom she felt almost motherly affection. When Helen got up to go away, Keefe offered to walk home with her, but when she hesitatingly said she did not like to give him so much trouble, he seemed to think she preferred going alone, and said nothing more. So Helen went away by herself, the setting sun gilding her path as it wound along the green heights, and Keefe walked towards the woods, where the evening shadows were already gathering.

“Well, they‘re a long time coming to a right understanding,” said Mrs. Wendell to herself, as she looked after them; “but it is my belief that true love always comes right in the end. It is only where the love is not strong enough to fight against difficulties, and not faithful enough to live on in spite of time and chance, that it fails. Love without end has no end.”

was on a fine breezy day in the month of March, 18—, that a little schooner of eighty tons burden, in which I was a passenger, sailed with a flowing sheet into the magnificent harbour of Havana. The Spanish pilot who had boarded us, a tall, broad-shouldered fellow, with a ponderous head, hook-nose, blue eyes, and copper complexion, guided us skilfully through the somewhat narrow passage between the lofty Morro Castle on our left and the Puntal on our right. Having safely achieved an entrance into the broad expansive basin of smooth deep water which constitutes the harbour of Havana, and selected a