By angel Pity haply led, I stood beside that mournful bed, The long-attended nursling leaves When Death her of her work bereaves." Oh! never with a prompter hand Did I obey a like command- Of the pink couch on which he lay; A whispered message from the skies For Memory, in tints which Time Which warmed beneath each vital glow; The sketch that seemed to mock the tomb, Here sit and think! while to Thought's inward eye II. Behold how green glance in the glowing sun Of sweltering artizans; while, near at hand, sion stand! South Wales, June, 1846. ENIGMA. Quite early in life I am used, large or small; H. E. B. "Thy low sweet voice, thy kindly smile-these shall the loved one greet, And these the weapons that shall bind the captive at thy feet." ANNA SAVAGE. Most of our gentle readers must have heard of the Well of St. Keyne, the shrine of many a fair pilgrim in olden times, and still celebrated for the peculiar properties attributed by tradition to its bright waters. "The quality, that man or wife, Whose choice or chance attains First of this sacred stream to drink, Thereby the mastery gains." Concerning the saint herself, but few records are preserved; she is said to have been a holy virgin, daughter of Braganus, Prince of Brecknockshire, and to have gone on a pilgrimage to St. Michael's Mount, in Cornwall; in which county she remained some considerable period, much reverenced by its inhabitants for her sanctity and supposed miracles. Beyond this, the history of St. Keyne remains wrapped in obscurity; but we have nevertheless a legend to relate, albeit a modern one, concerning this same well, which is not without its moral. St. Keyne is a small parish in Cornwall, and like all country places, by no means abounding in young men; so that it was quite an event when old Mrs. Johnson communicated in secret to a few particular friends that her nephew, from London, was coming down on a visit of some weeks, and more than hinted that he was on the look-out for a wife; and in order, as it seemed, to facilitate such a dénouement, or with the good-natured resolution of affording her young friends a fair start and an equal chance, announced her intention of giving a large ball on the night after his arrival. In a few hours the news had spread throughout the whole parish. Such materials as could be procured in the neighbourhood were hastily bought up, and fresh orders given and executed with astonishing alacrity; while every one wondered what he would be like. Mrs. Johnson had but very limited answers to give to their numerous questions. It was many years since she had seen her nephew; she believed that he was not reckoned particularly handsome; "but a better-hearted man," added the old lady, with great animation, "never existed!" And then he was very rich, and not the least in the world proud. Mr. Villiers arrived in due time, and the long expected ball followed, as it had been previously arranged. Nothing could go off better than this latter event; everybody seemed pleased. Some well-deserved compliments, uttered by her nephew, on the beauty of the ladies of St. Keyne, were repeated by Mrs. Johnson, and passed rapidly from one to the other. And truly there were as goodly a bevy of fair girls collected on that night as any sultan could have wished to choose from, only that it was somewhat too apparent that our hero had but to throw the handkerchief to whom he would; a state of things too pleasing to cause him to be in any hurry to make a selection; accordingly he danced with one, talked to another, handed a third down to supper, and managed to make himself so generally agreeable that at the close of the evening all were unanimous in voting him to be one of the most delightful men they had ever met; and the ball the most delightful ball given within the memory of the oldest inhabitant of St. Keyne. One young lady admired his low voice; another, the perfect ease of his manners, so different from the nervous embarrassment of Mr. Brown, who was always colouring up, and making some awkward blunder, although she really believed he could not help it, poor fellow; another noticed the exquisite finish of a London toilet, even down to the spotless purity of the well fitting gloves, not forgetting a certain diamond ring, which looked marvellously bright when he pulled them off. "And how beautifully he waltzes!" exclaimed Miss Lawrence. "I could hardly endure my cousin, Tom Overton's rough way of twisting me round, who chose to be offended when I told him so." From these remarks we may safely conclude that Mr. Villiers was not likely to be a favourite with the male portion of the inhabitants of St. Keyne, a subject which did not afford him the slightest uneasiness. At the time of which we write, Herbert Vil- | brilliantly lovely; she took more pains to please, liers was somewhat on the wrong side of thirty, was always lively and animated, and acknow and had a few, and perhaps not a few of those ledged to have the most splendid voice that was little whims and peculiarities inseparable from perhaps ever heard in a private room; so that bachelorship, unless indeed the individual should she could boast of as many admirers as her be fortunate enough to possess a mother or eldest sister, and was, on the whole, more genesister, and which only required the ready tact of rally beloved. a loving heart to coax him out of, or humour him into, as the case might be. He was shrewd and keen-sighted to a degree which few suspected from his quiet exterior, but good-natured withal, with a suavity of manner equally the result of good breeding and a natural kindness of heart. Mrs. Johnson was not very much mistaken in supposing that he was tired of his lonely condition, and had come into Cornwall "to look about him," as the phrase is. But Herbert Villiers was not a man to fall in love all at once; and his present position, féted and caressed by old and young, was much too agreeable for him to be in any hurry to terminate it. The little village of St. Keyne had never been so gay; balls and parties followed each other in rapid succession; pic-nics were formed to visit every spot of interest in the neighbourhood; few indeed, but then the grace and beauty of the fair adventurers amply compensated for any want of poetical or traditionary association. After all, there is no poetry like that of glad and living voices! Alice we have already described, as far as it is possible to describe her. There are thousands like her in the world, scarcely noticed while with us, but bitterly regretted should we have the misfortune to lose them; household blessings, prized only in their departure. One might have lived in the house for weeks without being able to ascertain the colour of her eyes, so seldom were they lifted up from her work; or hearing the tones of her voice, which were, however, sweet and glad enough when alone, or with her sisters; for she was always cheerful, and nothing came amiss to those busy little fingers. Here it was that Herbert Villiers' whole time and attention was finally concentrated, much to the secret mortification of many a fair candidate; and, if the truth must be owned, but little to the gratification, although greatly to the amusement, of its inmates, the old father excepted, who thought him a very gentlemanly man; so indeed they all did; and after a time Caroline confessed it was very pleasant to have some one to sing to, and with, who was really a judge of such things; while Henrietta could not but be touched by his evident admiration of herself, and was piqued perhaps into something like gratitude by the ill-disguised envy of their young companions, and good Mrs. Johnson's warm encomiums bestowed upon one whom she was never tired of praising, and rejoiced to see at length evincing symptoms of having made, or being on the point of making up his mind. That the hearts of the fair sisters were at first but little interested in the subject was evident, from the playful badinage in which they loved to indulge when together. Alice, of course, not being a party concerned, could only sit and listen and work; or occasionally her simple remonstrance served to awaken fresh bursts of laughter. It was at one of these times that Mr. Villiers chanced to enter, as usual, unannounced-for all ceremony had long ago been dispensed with between them. One less confident or self-possessed might have caught the spirit of their momentary embarrassment, and directly suspected what was in part the real fact, that he might be himself the object of their mirth. But such a thought was the last to enter the mind of our hero. At a short distance from Mrs. Johnson's residence dwelt three sisters. Their mother had been dead some few years, since which time the duties of the little household seemed to have fallen on the youngest, a second Cinderella, only that she wanted the rare beauty of her gifted prototype of fairy celebrity; not that Alice could be called absolutely plain, but rather seemed so in contrast to the brilliant loveliness of her more favoured sisters; neither were they harsh or ill-natured, as those described in the old nursery tale, but on the contrary, very fond of her—who could help it?—and never weary of commending her patient industry, although they found it more difficult to imitate it. Henrietta, the eldest, and not unfrequently spoken of as the "Flower of St. Keyne," was certainly exquisitely lovely, so that it seemed almost excusable that she should be withal not altogether unconscious of a fact so frequently brought to her recollection: she had already refused several eligible offers, and was suspected of being somewhat ambitious. Naturally proud, and perhaps a little spoiled by the universal homage which she received, Henrietta was a great deal too much accustomed to be sought to once think of "You seem merry," said he. "May I not seeking, or paying any deference to the opinion know the cause?” of others; and the haughty carelessness of her "Ask Alice," replied Caroline, mischievously. manner was no doubt, from contrast, almost as But Mr. Villiers, seeing the poor girl's heighpowerful as her rare beauty in gaining the at-tened colour, was too good-natured to press the tention of Herbert Villiers. Be this as it may, he was evidently caught at last, although it was still a matter of uncertainty which of the sisters (Alice of course being out of the question) could lay claim to the honour of this new conquest. Caroline was more winning, although less 66 subject; and his attention being thus drawn towards her, noticed for the first time that she really was not so very plain as most people said, her features, although not beautiful, being sweet and expressive. That evening Caroline played and sang all his Oh, I don't know; she generally prefers it. And then we cannot all leave papa.' Yes, yes," said the old man, stroking down the bright hair of his youngest daughter with a selfish fondness; "Alice likes to stay with me, don't you Alice? God bless her! she is a good child-a good, dutiful child, and will make a treasure of a wife when the time comes." Alice stooped down, covered with blushes, to receive her father's kiss; and then both her sisters smiled archly, and kissed her too, whispering something that by no means tended to lessen that crimson flush which Herbert Villiers still thought so singularly becoming to her usually pale and tranquil face. The pic-nic passed off brilliantly. Mr. Villiers' attention was principally devoted to Henrietta, but not to the exclusion of her sister. Poor Mr. Brown found himself in high favour, and was less nervous in consequence. Miss Lawrence took great pains to win back her offended cousin, Tom Overton, and was finally successful. By the ladies, Herbert Villiers was unanimously voted a confirmed old bachelor; while the opposite sex, strangely enough, began at the same time to make the discovery that he really was a very gentlemanly fellow, and one whose society promised to be an agreeable acquisition in the neighbourhood. Caroline, who was in her usual high spirits, insisted on Mrs. Johnson, her nephew, and one or two others, accompanying them home to supper. An arrangement which somewhat discomposed the quiet Alice, who had evidently expected no such guests, and was sitting in her simple morning-gown-which she had not thought it worth while to change-reading aloud to her father. Under her active superintendence everything was, however, speedily arranged: and as she sat listening to their animated accounts of the various events of the day, her sweet, placid face and plain attire afforded a vivid contrast to the brilliant dress and manners of her more accomplished sisters-not a very favourable one, perhaps, for poor Alice. "Wait a bit,” replied her sister, running her fingers playfully over the ivory keys of the in"And now, my dear Alice, for goodness' sake, if you mean to enter into the contest, never wear such a gown as you had on last night!" "I did not expect Mr. Villiers would have returned with you," said Alice, simply. "But indeed I have no thought or wish to enter into the contest with two such formidable rivals." Why not, dearest?" asked Caroline, caressingly. "We know that you are not reckoned quite so handsome as our noble selves; but for all that, as papa often says, you will make a treasure of a wife!" "Indeed-indeed," said Alice, almost tearfully, “I have no such wish, and am quite content and happy to remain as I am." "Nay, Alice dear, I was only in jest; and not aware that Mr. Villiers was so disagreeable to you." The young girl seemed about to answer; and then paused all of a sudden, and resuming her work, bent over it once more with her usual industry. About this time Herbert Villiers unwillingly consented to accompany his aunt on a visit to some friends residing at a considerable distance. They were not expected to be absent above three or four days; during which, if the truth must be told, the hours passed wearily enough at the house of Mr. Ashford. Henrietta missed his unceasing attentions; while her sister cared little to play or sing when there was no one to admire her; and even Alice confessed that it seemed strange without him; mutually laughing at each other that it should be so. On the evening of the second day, Henrietta proposed a walk. It was a beautiful summer night, and tired at length with rambling about, the three sisters sat them down by the ancient Well of St. Keyne. The spot is singularly picturesque, independent of its tradition-haunted powers, or was at least, at the time of which we write; for we understand that its magic waters are now sealed up and secured by two modernlooking doors, so wholly out of keeping that it seems marvellous the sainted foundress of the spring does not order the imprisoned waters to break forth, and sweep away so unsightly a barrier. There were the "four trees of various kinds" mentioned in the old chronicles"Oak, withy, elm, and ash;" "What a pity that the youngest Miss Ashford is so plain !" observed one of the party, as they walked homeward through the quiet moonlight. “Yes, she is certainly not to be compared to either of her sisters," replied another. "But then she is very gentle and good-natured, and does a world of good, they tell me, among the poor. And after all, she really has a very pretty or four at least of a similar kind, for the originals have long since perished. And as the sisters sat together beneath their shadow, their thoughts and conversation went naturally back to the past; and finding little preserved worthy of comment, to the more modern anecdotes connected with the place, Caroline repeated Southey's wellknown lines on the subject with infinite humour. "But do you really think there ever was any one so silly?" asked Alice, incredulously. "Yes, I know several; some merely ignorant and superstitious; others who might be supposed a little wiser-acting, perhaps, oftentimes more in jest than earnest; and only half believing in the magic properties of that which they took so much trouble to secure. After all, they are not so very silly either; and a consummation so devoutly to be wished,' would be well worth the pains bestowed on its attainment." 66 "But is it so devoutly to be wished for?" "My dear Alice, can you really ask such a question with that serious face?" But for once the young girl was not to be laughed out of her own opinion. "It is quite evident to me,” said Alice, following out the chain of her own simple reasoning, notwithstanding the mirth of her sisters; "it is quite evident to me that St. Keyne was never in love, or she would have better understood the pleasant duty of obedience. As for mastery,' there is no such word in the gentle code of mutual affection and forbearance." "Hear her!" exclaimed Henrietta, with a merry laugh; while Caroline playfully inquired whether she spoke from experience. 66 No, indeed," replied her sister; "how should I?" "For my part," said Henrietta, glancing proudly into the bright waters, which reflected back her own rare loveliness like a mirror, "I am well content to trust my own, or rather, nature's spells in preference to those of any Saint in Christendom! A beautiful woman has no need to resort to witchcraft to manage any man; but as for letting them have their own way, it is not to be thought of for a single instant." "Of course not," replied Caroline; "and after all, it is the easiest thing in the world, if one only knows how to set about it. I grant that if she can rule without shewing she rules,' so much the better; but rule any way. I trust, my dear Alice, that you have no thought of setting up for a modern Griselda!" "There is no fear of that," said Alice, laughingly. "But it does seem natural, nevertheless, to obey one's husband." "Provided his wishes were not too unreasonable," interrupted Caroline. If you loved him very much, you would not think them so." "I would never be any man's slave, let me love him ever so well!" observed Henrietta, proudly. "No indeed," said Caroline, as stooping gracefully over the stream, she raised a little in her snowy hand, and drank of the contents; flinging the remainder playfully over Alice, whom | she called a silly child, who knew nothing about the matter! And then they walked home together in the soft twilight, talking of other things; and half expecting to find Mr. Villiers awaiting their arrival; for they could see, as they passed the house, that he had returned. No one, however, had been. Mr. Ashfordwho liked his joke as well as any of themsuggested that Herbert might have discovered a new source of attraction where he had been staying. An idea indignantly refuted by Caroline, in behalf of herself and sisters; her argument being brought to a triumphant, although somewhat abrupt conclusion, by the entrance of the object of dispute, evidently in high spirits, and looking so gay and animated, that Caroline could not help whispering to her sisters that he was positively almost handsome-at any rate quite handsome enough for a man. "Still this everlasting needlework!" exclaimed Mr. Villiers, sitting down by the side of Alice. "I am sure it must hurt you. Don't you think so, Mr. Ashford-and that a little walk would do her good?" "Why it's late for a walk," replied the old man; "but, certainly, as I often tell her, she does sit a great deal too much." "But I have been out to-day, papa." 66 Nay, come," persisted Mr. Villiers, "if it is only for five minutes!-the moonlight is so beautiful; and I have a message from my aunt, to be told to you alone." "A secret!" exclaimed Caroline, merrily. "Oh, you must go!" And whatever it was she contrived to whisper, as she helped to tie on her bonnet, it did not serve to lessen poor Alice's embarrassment. "How good-natured Herbert is," observed Henrietta. "To think of his taking her outit is so like him." "I wonder what the message is about?" said Caroline. By and bye, the sisters began to think it took a very long while delivering. Mr. Ashford consoled himself with the supposition that, in all probability, they had gone to Mrs. Johnson's; and retired to bed as usual. Presently afterwards Alice came in alone, and was immediately whelmed with inquiries as to what made her so late, and the cause of Mr. Villiers's abrupt departure; until Caroline noticed at length that she was weeping. Over "Why, my dearest Alice, what can have happened?" asked she, flinging her arms caressingly around her sister's waist, as she drew her gently towards the light. 66 Oh, it is so strange !-so very strange!— and I am so happy!" "Then why these tears, silly child? Come, tell me, what has Herbert Villiers been saying to you? 1?" asked Caroline, as a new light flashed suddenly over her mind. "You will not know how to believe it if I do." "Yes, indeed, if it be that he loves you. The only impossibility is to do otherwise!" "And yet," said Henrietta, half involuntarily, as Alice says, 'it does seem strange!"" |