with neither mortal taint nor touch. To one of the Doctor's temperament, the scene was oppressively sublime; even the croaking voice and ungainly form of Esther Cram, or the presence of her elfish child, would have been a welcome relief at that moment. But they had gone; whether to hide in the dens and caves of the earth, like the other wild inhabitants of the mountain forest, or to seek food and shelter among the abodes of men, or to find a cold grave beneath the shrouding snow, none knew. Some such thought as the last seemed to arouse the Doctor from his reverie, for he sprang up suddenly, exclaiming, with energy:

"I an't no better'n a murderer, certain, to neglect them poor things so. Come, let's go, John. What will Bessie say now ?" and with one more look within the lonely hut, they slowly descended to their home.

CHAPTER IX.

"MOREOVER, Something is or seems,
That touches me with mystic gleams,
Like glimpses of forgotten dreams-
Of something felt, like something here;
Of something done, I know not where;
Such as no language may declare."

WHY and whither had the missing ones fled? Why had not Esther Cram, with her usual forethought, prepared her hut, poor and wretched though it was, still her only home, for the pitiless storms of winter? Why had she not, as in years past, laid by her stores, and then withdrawn herself and child within those miserable walls, to pass another tedious, inclement season of mere animal existence? Why, indeed, but that the demon of unrest, which had so mightily stirred her child's heart, had reached her own also! Oh! there were moments when its terrible ravings would have seemed cheaply silenced by the sacrifice of life itself. Such were those which followed the departure of Doctor Jepson and his wife, to whose visit and its object we have already alluded. Esther Cram watched their retreating footsteps with a demoniacal expression of exultation and hatred in her face.

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"Get ye gone," she muttered between her teeth,

many a long day'll pass ere these eyes look upon you again; beware of the lioness, when ye seek to tear the whelp from her side;" then striding to the door, she shrieked rather than called, "Nell, Nell."

A shrill echo was the only reply, as her fierce black eye peered up and down the mountain side. "Better so, perhaps," said she, walking off swiftly towards a favorite haunt; "trust not the hand that hides a wrathful heart; ha! has it come to this? would I raise my hand against the only one who has a drop of my blood in her veins? But they would do worse; they would refine her mind, only to fit it for more exquisite torture; they would beautify her person only to make its final immolation more sure and fearful. Twould be kinder far to snatch her from such a fate, and lie down with her on the cold, dark earth. But some power withholds me; I can not do it. O Nell, Nell! cursed be the day that brought light to your eyes; or rather, cursed be he who No, I can not curse Arthur's child. Alas!

woe! woe is on every side."

"D'ye call me, mammy ?" cried Nell, from the top of a high rock near.

"Yes-no-come here," was the reply, half-yearningly, half-defiantly. Nell knew her mother's moods well enough to come down fearlessly to her side. She longed also to know the result of the Doctor's request, so warmly urged by herself.

FLIGHT RESOLVED UPON.

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"Say, mammy," said she, pulling her sleeve, “may I go ?"

All the fierce passions of Esther Cram's nature seemed aroused by this simple question, accompanied, as it was, by an earnest, pleading look.

"Hence, viper," she cried, pushing her rudely away, "lest I crush you to the earth. Must you too league Shall my own flesh and

with them that would rob me? blood rise up against me, and I, fool, idiot that I am, cringe before ye all? No!" she screamed, bringing down her bony fist violently: "No! you shan't go; d'ye hear that ?”

"Then I'll run away!" Nell's eyes flashed as fiercely as her mother's then, and she stamped her little foot in her anger. Strange to say, this defiant reply changed the wrath of Esther Cram into admiration of the little dilated form and anger-swollen face of her child.

"Ye'll run away, will ye ?" said she, laughing; "and where'll ye run to, eh ?"

"To see the world," Nell quickly replied.

"Poor child, poor child," said her mother, "eager to rush upon your fate! Something's got to be done, I see," she added, in a lower tone-"I have it—yes, you shall see the world, Nell, but not in the way they would have you. Listen, child; you and I'll run off together, and we'll wander all about and see all the beautiful things in the world."

"And learn to read?" interrupted Nell.

4*

"Pshaw! child, no; I don't want you to learn to read."

"But he said 'twould make me good," Nell urged, edging up to her mother in her earnestness.

"He? O Nell! has the spell already begun to weave around you? There, go bid Lolo good-by, for to-mor row we leave this accursed place. Even here, in these dens, these caves, the world's poisonous breath has come and cursed the whole. Hear, O ye spirits!" she cried, stretching forth her arms in the deepening twilight; "I go and come not hither again, till by your arts the charm is broken and my child saved;" then in silence she strode quickly back to her hut.

Ere the sun arose the next morning, the fortune-teller cautiously guided her child down the mountain, in a direction opposite to where the village lay. To elude observation, though chance could scarce throw a traveler in her way in those solitary regions, she avoided her usual paths, and through tangled thickets and close underbrush led the way. Nell followed with beating heart and high hopes. What sights would meet her eye-what sounds her ear, in that great, unexplored world whither she was going! Could she have paused upon its threshold, and with prophetic eye pierced the vail of the temple within, how would she have shrunk from the dread ordeal! Well for us is it, that only one by one the mysteries of our being are unfolded-that single-handed come our foes, whom we may vanquish, if we will, by the two-edged sword of truth and righte