Halbert stood silent and gasped for breath, his hairs erecting themselves on his head-his mouth open-his eyes fixed, and, as the sole remaining sign of his late determined purpose, his sword pointed towards the apparition. At length, with a voice of ineffable sweetness, the White Lady, for by that name we shall distinguish this being, sung, or rather chaunted the following lines :

"Youth of the dark eye, wherefore didst thou call me? Wherefore art thou here, if terrors can appal thee?

He that seeks to deal with us must know nor fear nor failing! To coward and churl our speech is dark, our gifts are unavail

The breeze that brought me hither now, must sweep Egyp

tian ground,

The fleecy cloud on which I ride for Araby is bound;

The fleecy cloud is drifting by, the breeze sighs for my stay, For I must sail a thousand miles before the close of day."

The astonishment of Halbert began once more to give way to his resolution, and he gained voice enough to say, though with a faltering accent, "In the name of God, what art thou?" The answer was in melody of a different tone and mea

sure.

"What I am I must not show-
What I am thou couldst not know-
Something betwixt heaven and hell-
Something that neither stood nor fell-

Something that through thy wit or will
May work thee good-may work thee ill.
Neither substance quite, nor shadow,
Haunting lonely moor. and meadow,
Dancing by the haunted spring,
Riding on the whirlwind's wing;
Aping in fantastic fashion

Every change of human passion,
While o'er our frozen minds they pass,
Like shadows from the mirror'd glass.
Wayward, fickle is our mood,
Hovering betwixt bad and good,
Happier than brief-dated man,
Living ten times o'er his span ;
Far less happy, for we have
Help nor hope beyond the grave!
Man awakes to joy or sorrow;

Ours the sleep that knows no morrow.
This is all that I can show-

This is all that thou mayst know."

The White Lady paused, and seemed to await an answer; but, as Halbert hesitated how to frame his speech, the vision seemed gradually to fade, and become more and more incorporeal. Justly guessing this to be a symptom of her disappearance, Halbert compelled himself to say,-" Lady, when I saw you in the glen, and when you brought back the black book of Mary of Avenel, thou didst say I should one day learn to read it.”

The White Lady replied,

"Ay! and I taught thee the word and the spell,
To waken me here by the Fairies' Well.

And thou hast loved the lance and the sword,
More than good text and holy word;
And thou hast loved the deer to track,

More than the lines and the letters black;
And thou art a ranger of moss and of wood,
And scornest the nurture of gentle blood."

"I will do so no longer, fair maiden," said Halbert; "I desire to learn; and thou didst promise me, that when I did so desire, thou wouldst be my helper; I am no longer afraid of thy presence, and I am no longer regardless of instruction." As he uttered these words, the figure of the White Maiden grew gradually as distinct as it had been at first; and what had well nigh faded into an illdefined and colourless shadow, again assumed an appearance at least of corporeal consistency, although the hues were less vivid, and the outline of the figure less distinct and defined,—so at least it seemed to Halbert,-than those of an ordinary inhabitant of the earth. "Wilt thou grant my request," he said, "fair Lady, and give to my keeping the holy book which Mary of Avenel has so often wept for ?”

The White Lady replied,

Thy craven fear my truth accused,
Thine idlehood my trust abused;
He that draws to harbour late,

Must sleep without, or burst the gate.

There is a star for thee which burn'd,'

Its influence wanes, its course is turn'd;
Valour and constancy alone

Can bring thee back the chance that's flown."

"If I have been a loiterer, Lady," answered young Glendinning," thou shalt now find me willing to press forward with double speed. Other thoughts have filled my mind, other thoughts have engaged my heart within a brief period and by heaven, other occupations shall henceforward fill up my time. I have lived in this day the space of years-I came hither a boy-I will return a man -a man, such as may converse not only with his own kind, but with whatever God permits to be visible to him. I will learn the contents of that mysterious volume-I will learn why the Lady of Avenel loved it-why the priests feared, and would have stolen it-why thou didst twice recover it from their hands.-What mystery is wrapt in it? -Speak, I conjure thee." The Lady assumed an air peculiarly sad and solemn, as, drooping her head, and folding her arms on her bosom, she replied:

"Within that awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries!
Happiest they of human race,
To whom God has granted grace
To read, to fear, to hope, to pray,
To lift the latch, and force the way;

And better had they ne'er been born,
Who read to doubt, or read to scorn."

"Give me the volume, Lady," said young Glen

66

dinning. They call me idle-they call me dull -in this pursuit my industry shall not fail, nor, with God's blessing, shall my understanding. Give me the volume." The apparition again replied:

Halbert Glendinning boldly reached his hand to the White Lady.

"Fearest thou to go with me?" she said, as his hand trembled at the soft and cold touch of her

own

"Fearest thou to go with me?

Still it is free to thee

A peasant to dwell;

Thou mayst drive the dull steer,
And chace the king's deer,

But never more come near

This haunted well."