CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SECOND.
Then in my gown of sober gray
Along the mountain path I’ll wander,
And wind my solitary way
To the sad shrine that courts me yonder.
There, in the calm monastic shade,
All injuries may be forgiven;
And there for thee, obdurate maid,
My orisons shall rise to heaven.
THE CRUEL LADY OF THE MOUNTAINS.
The first words which Edward uttered were,—“My brother is safe, reverend father—he is safe, thank God, and lives!—There is not in Corri-nan-shian a grave, nor a vestige of a grave. The turf around the fountain has neither been disturbed by pick-axe, spade, nor mattock, since the deer’s-hair first sprang there. He lives as surely as I live!”
The earnestness of the youth—the vivacity with which he looked and moved—the springy step, outstretched hand, and ardent
