“Upon its brink the student paused, and gazed into the dark waters with a steadfast look.  They were limpid waters, dark with shadows only.  And as he gazed, he beheld, far down in their silent depths, dim and ill-defined outlines, wavering to and fro, like the folds of a white garment in the twilight.  Then more distinct and permanent shapes arose;—­shapes familiar to his mind, yet forgotten and remembered again, as the fragmentsof a dream; till at length, far, far below him he beheld the great city of the Past, with silent marble streets, and moss-grown walls, and spires uprising with a wave-like, flickering motion.  And amid the crowd that thronged those streets, he beheld faces once familiar and dear to him; and heard sorrowful, sweet voices, singing; ‘O forget us not! forget us not!’ and then the distant, mournful sound of funeral bells, that were tolling below, in the city of the Past.  But in the gardens of that city, there were children playing, and among them, one who wore his features, as they had been in childhood.  He was leading a little girl by the hand, and caressed her often, and adorned her with flowers.  Then, like a dream, the scene changed, and the boy had grown older, and stood alone, gazing into the sky; and, as he gazed, his countenance changed again, and Hieronymus beheld him, as if it had been his own image in the clear water; and before him stood a beauteous maiden, whose face was like the face of Hermione, and he feared lest the scroll had fallen into the water, as he bent overit.  Starting as from a dream he put his hand into his bosom and breathed freely again, when he found the scroll still there.  He drew it forth, and read the blessed name of Hermione, and the city beneath him vanished away, and the air grew fragrant as with the breath of May-flowers, and a light streamed through the shadowy forest and gleamed upon the lake; and the Student Hieronymus pressed the dear name to his lips and exclaimed with streaming eyes; ’O, scorn me as thou wilt, still, still will I love thee; and thy name shall irradiate the gloom of my life, and make the waters of Oblivion smile!’ And the name was no longer Hermione, but was changed to Mary; and the Student Hieronymus—­is lying at your feet!  O, gentle Lady!

’I did hear you talk

Far above singing; after you were gone

I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched

What stirred it so!  Alas!  I found it love.”

CHAPTER IX.  A TALK ON THE STAIRS.

No!  I will not describe that scene; nor how pale the stately lady sat on the border of the green, sunny meadow!  The hearts of some women tremble like leaves at every breath of love which reaches them, and then are still again.  Others, like the ocean, are moved only by the breath of a storm, and not so easily lulled to rest.  And such was the proud heart of Mary Ashburton.  It had remained unmoved by the presence of this stranger; and the sound of his footsteps and his voice excited in it no emotion.  He had deceived himself!  Silently they walked homeward through the green meadow.  The very sunshine was sad; and the rising wind, through the old ruin above them, sounded in his ears like a hollow laugh!