Page:The Love Charm.pdf/7

Rh Edward started to his feet—the image of Marion was uppermost in his thoughts. "Lady," he replied, unconsciously imitating her own highwrought language, "in my country woman pleads not to man. I have not wooed, and I do not wish to win thee. Thou art wonderful and very fair, but thou art not my love." She looked at him for a moment with her large dark eyes. "I think," continued she, "I could make thee love me, if thou wert to stay here awhile. I pray thee, give me a lock of your sunny hair. I have seen none like it." Edward gave her one of the bright curls which clustered golden around his head. "Look around thee," said the lady, "for a little time. This hall is a triumph of my art. These birds and flowers belong to my native Mexico, and so do those glad valleys." Edward gazed around in wonder, and while he gazed there came on the air the same melancholy song that he had heard while on the river. The very sound of his own steps disturbed him; and he flung himself on a couch, to enjoy without interruption the exquisite melody. The intense perfume of the flowers intoxicated him like wine. He felt as if lulled in a delicious trance, in which one image became more and more distinct—the pale but lovely face of his hostess. His heart was filling with love for those radiant eyes. A softer fragrance breathed around him—it was her breath. He looked, and she was again bending over him; he saw himself mirrored in the moonlight of her eyes. "You will not leave me?" whispered she, in those soft sweet tones which were like notes from a lute. "Never!" exclaimed the youth, and threw himself at her feet. Weeks had passed away, and done the work of years in Adam Leslie's cottage. His garden was now in the richest season of the year. The sunshine had settled into crimson on the peach; the bloom was on the plum, and the dahlias, whose colours might vie with a monarch's clothing, crowded the garden with unwonted prodigality. Arm-in-arm the old man and his niece wandered around the now mournful garden; he trying to speak that comfort which his every look belied, and she trying to smile as if she believed him; but the tears rose into her eyes as she tried to smile. It was now more than six weeks since Edward's mysterious disappearance, and the little hope that had once been cherished was now dying fast away. That night, after Adam Leslie had gone to bed, Marion strolled into the garden. She could not sleep, and the lovely moonlight she thought might soothe her. Alas, the tears that had been in her eyes all day now began to flow, when suddenly the sound of footsteps roused her attention. She raised her face from her hands, and saw a little deformed negro-woman standing beside her. "Why do you cry," said the strange visitor, fixing on her a pair of small, bright, snake-like eyes, "like a child, when you might win your lover back like a woman?" Marion stood silent with extreme astonishment, and the woman went on. "Yes, if you will follow me—though you look as if you were frightened to death, I can help you to set your lover free. There are other bright eyes in the world besides your own; but yours will be the best and last loved, if you dare to follow one who is your friend."