and the less alert were almost sinking from fatigue, when joyous cries, sounding from the top of the mountain, and echoed and reechoed by the surrounding heights, announced that some of the young men had arrived at its summit; their success roused the emulation of the laggards, and they, redoubling their efforts, soon found themselves re-united to Martin Simon, upon a large irregular space, which commanded an immense horizon.

Le Follet, seen from this elevation, presented a truly fearful aspect. Every side smooth, steep, almost perpendicular, and really appearing so inaccessible, even by the path the travellers had ascended, that they shuddered at the thought of returning the same way. Its high conical summit towered above all others in the vicinity, and was more lofty than its neighbour, Mount Pelvoux, by reason of the mighty glacier on its crest, which partly rested upon the top of the other.

Scarcely allowing themselves time to recover breath, the group demanded, with one accord

"Show us the mine!-the gold mine!"

"Willingly, my friends," replied Simon, calmly, and advancing towards that portion of the mountain adjoining Pelvoux; "we have arrived at the end of our march."

"What!" exclaimed the chevalier, who followed Martin step by step, "is this treasure buried in such an inaccessible place? I had hoped

"You hoped the work would have been easier, was it not so ?" answered Simon, bitterly.

They approached the glacier, and Martin stopped suddenly before a rock, rather larger than the others, and forming one of the scattered chain of broken rocks extending along the side of Le Follet. His companions pressed around him with great anxiety to see all that passed. After removing several stones, which had been carefully placed so as to form a moveable wall, there at last appeared a small cave, five or six feet in height, and ten or twelve in depth-it was the gold mine. A cry of joy escaped every lip, and all pressed forward to catch a glimpse of the precious metal. The vein was straight and very narrow, but seemed as pure as possible, containing only a little quantity of copper, which added to its brilliancy. The sun, upon the point of setting, darted its rays full upon the entrance of the cave, in mockery, as it were, of the sparkling within, and at the same time so illuminating the treasure, that one would have thought avaricious Nature, unwilling to resign her wealth, and in revenge for being obliged to do so, was desirous of blinding men's eyes and exciting them to frenzy. All but Martin contemplated the gold with rapture; he simply entered the vault, and taking some iron implements in his hands, said—

"These are the only things I take hence, the tools with which I worked. You, my friends," he continued, addressing the crowd, "can ask nothing more. I have resigned all my rights to the gold; but remember, should an avalanche destroy your houses, I cannot now rebuild them; when the hail beats down and spoils your corn, I shall no longer be able to keep and comfort your starving family until the next fruitful season; no longer bestow a dowry on your poor daughters, or repair the roads when the storm and the tempest has overturned them. The King of Pelvoux exists no more!"

And as he concluded, just placing the implements upon his shoulders, he strode away, and left those assembled to the full enjoyment of their insatiable curiosity. Some of these gazed in astonishment at the gold, because it did not bear the effigy of King Louis. Others, among whom was Eusebius, sought to tear the crystals from the rocks with their nails, convinced that the most brilliant objects must be of the greatest value. Again, there were those who thoughtfully regarded the treasure, and debated in their minds the means of obtaining it only for themselves-of the latter number were Peyras and Michelot. But the ecstacy and thoughtfulness were both of short duration. Soon Martin Simon returned, and announced that if they did not wish to be surprised by the night, which would render the descent doubly dangerous, they must at once depart. The mountaineers glanced around, and seeing the truth of this warning, prepared to follow his advice. “M. Simon,” cried the chevalier, still thinking of his own advantage," before we leave this place, would it not be better for you to assign to each his share of the mine? Think of the disputes, the quarrels, the lasting hate your vague and unsatisfactory words may cause."

"We will consider that subject," slowly replied Simon; "but cannot any longer remain here. If a division this evening is absolutely necessary, let us all meet in the cavern near the fir trees. You hear," he continued, raising his voice; "those who are not found in the cave with the others will most certainly repent their contumacy."

He pronounced these words in a tone of raillery which did not give them much weight in the minds of his auditors; however, they promised to rejoin him, and quickly commenced their descent towards the valley. Martin Simon insisted upon being the last to quit the platform, and he did not do so until he had counted the number of his party, and assured himself that no one lurked behind. They all arrived without accident at the foot of the mountain. The day still lingered on the heights, but it was nearly dark in the plain. At this moment a white object appeared at the entrance of the place of rendezvous, and frightened the superstitious mountaineers, who imagined it to be the spirit of the mine, menacing its future victims. The figure was no other than Margaret, who, standing in silence on the platform in front of the cave, attentively examined every one as they passed. Michelot and the chevalier spoke to her more than once, but she did not answer, and appeared scarcely to understand their words. Then for the first time was the absence of Martin Simon perceived. Suddenly a prolonged cry, similar to those uttered by the shepherds when calling to each other at a distance, was heard from the opposite side of the valley, and Margaret replied by one equally shrill, rendered still more piercing from the silence around. Then addressing the mountaineers, she said, with terror

"Enter, enter all. It is for your lives."

They mechanically obeyed, and for a few moments there was no appearance which seemed to justify the girl's caution. At last Martin himself, quite out of breath, rushed forward towards the shelter of the cave, crying in an imposing voice"Let no one stir, or he will perish!"

Even as he spoke a tremendous detonation was heard, the air seemed agitated, the earth trembled, and showers of rocks and stones fell in every direction. All ran to the platform. "Take care," shouted Martin; "if my suspicions are correct, the greatest danger is to come."

But curiosity drowned fear, and without listening to his exhortations, they precipitately left the cavern, and fixed their eyes upon Mount Follet, from whence the noise appeared to proceed. A mine, consisting of many tons of powder, had, in truth, been skilfully secreted under the enormous mass of granite forming the base of the chain of rocks we have mentioned as being the only means of ascending the mountain. This powder Martin had ignited when he remained behind his companions; an immense volume of smoke, rising towards heaven, and the continually-falling fragments telling but too well how successfully. As the King of Pelvoux feared, the explosion was not yet over. The inferior masses. losing their equilibrium by the destruction of their common sup port, shook with violence; then the movement gradually progressed from one to the other of the line, until all were in motion, and detached from their positions-soon all rocked together-tottered for a moment, slid slowly at first, then, with inconceivable rapidity, bounded against the sides of the mountain, fell, rebounded, and finally, scattered into a million glittering fragments, as they were dashed into the vale below. Often breaking in their descent, the report was terrific. The air resounded as with the noise of continually-discharged artillery, and the echo, repeated from gorge to defile, seemed like the constant bursting of the thunder cloud. Every one had watched this grand display in silence and trembling. It was no time for any passion except fear. Some had sought refuge in the cave, to escape the falling stones: others, quite dismayed, concealed their faces in their hands, and mechanically stooped their heads and shoulders, guided by an instinct stronger than reflection. Martin Simon and Margaret alone contemplated with firmness the different changes of the catastrophe they had prepared; but the father convulsively pressed the hand of his child every time the shock was heard. The explosion lasted several minutes, then the reports became less frequent, and finally ceased altogether. But the smoke proceeding from such an enormous quantity of powder still obscured the vision, and nothing could be seen as regarded the extent of this fearful destruction. Soon, however, the evening breeze, which had been stilled by the commotion, gradually regained its influence, and gently raising the vapour, discovered Le Follet, apparently uninjured, and standing in striking relief against the roscate setting of a summer's sun. The long train of rocks, however, had entirely disappeared, and the one overhanging the gold mine and protecting it against the invasion of the neighbouring glacier, had sunk into the abyss ;-the mountain presented on either side nothing but a naked and perpendicular wall, for ever inaccessible to man.

Martin was the first to recover his faculties on the cessation of the uproar.

"My father, who conceived the execution of this powder mine, was an able engineer," he cried, with enthusiasm, "and calculated its effects marvellously well. I despaired of such complete

It certainly was very tempting: a gold mine, where by stooping once one could gather as much wealth as would have enabled one to live comfortably for six months; but, after all, man was intended to work, and it is better to labour in the fresh air and under the blue skies, than, as a poor devil of a miner, go about like bats in the dark. So, then, my friend," he continued, "it seems to me you have acted wisely, and I for one thank you for preserving us from the crowd of strangers who would have deluged our valley, attracted by the gold of Le Follet."

"It was a bad action," exclaimed the chevalier, in despair. "This gold, would it not have been far better employed in making the fortunes of the good people here assembled, than in thus depriving, without reason, your relations, your friends, and mankind in general, of its benefits?"

These words were re-echoed by the rest, and murmurs and complaints rose from the assembly.

The other mountainers, following his example, also seized the hand of Martin Simon. Perhaps many secretly regretted the loss of the rich prey they had anticipated, but there was no evidence of this feeling in their manners, and all conversation upon the subject had ceased, when the King of Pelvoux resumed it by saying

"Silence!" cried Martin, authoritatively, "and let me answer this young debauchee, in whom the love of gold has, in the course of a few hours, stifled every noble and generous sentiment. Is it so very certain, M. de Peyras, that I have committed a fault in the eyes of the true friends of humanity? What benefit would an increase of this yellow metal confer upon society, save to corrupt those already sufficiently defiled, but I had yet other reasons for the sacrifice I have made ?"

His auditors collected near him, in order to listen.

"I must inform you, my friend, that I do not intends any longer being master of the farms you severally hold from me. You know I was never very pressing in exacting the rents; and what I did receive was always employed for the benefit of our little community. From this moment you are owners of the houses you occupy and the lands you cultivate. We will confirm the gifts by a legal process as soon as possible."

Cries of joy and delight, mingled with clapping of hands, followed this announcement. The thought of becoming masters of the farms they rented, transported the villagers; and they overwhelmed their baillie with thanks and blessings. While these changes had been taking place immediately around Simon, a conference of a different nature was being held between those persons who had each, for a time, thought himself about to become the sole possessor of the wealth of the King of Pelvoux. When Martin's attention was directed towards them, the chevalier was gesticulating with an air of animation, and saying, as he regarded Mount Follet-"Yes, I am positive that all hope is not lost of recovering this mine, and properly working it. See what wonders have been accomplished. Do you not think that, were the existence of this vein of gold fully certified, the learned men and engineers of this country would hasten hither, and render easy, in a few months, perhaps, what appears so utterly impossible to-day ?"

"Quo non mortalia pectora cogis," grumbled the schoolmaster. "If this is really likely to occur at some future time, said Michelot, pensively, "it would be as well to confirm our present rights as first discoverers, by a proper and formal act."

"When my father had discovered this treasure," he continued, "his misanthropic and gloomy temperament at first prevented his revealing or benefiting by the secret. However, later in life, when the wounds of his heart were healed, and days of quiet happiness had softened the bitterness of his mind, he broke his resolution, and occasionally profited by the wealth accident had thrown into his hands; but he vowed to himself, and bound his descendants by a solemn oath, that on the day these riches became the cause of crime and evil they should cease to be available to man. For the accomplishment of this purpose, he prepared the powder mine, of which you have seen the fearful consequences, and the oath he had sworn to God and his conscience he obliged me to take after revealing to me the secret, and assuring himself of my being able to resist the temptations of egotism and ambition; this vow I again repeated by the side of his dying bed, and the sacred trust I have now performed in your presence. Whatever, then, may be the opinion of man, I have done my duty, and do not repent."

"God will reward you, my excellent father," exclaimed Margaret; "and here are good and worthy men who understand and fully appreciate your nobleness."

The young girl spoke truly, for all signs of discontent had passed from the countenances of the mountaineers. Old John approached Martin Simon, and said, in the name of the others, while he grasped him cordially by the hand

"Come, come, my brother, no one will blame you for the past.

quire twenty years' labour before it became accessible to a laden horse? But there is still more; during six months of the year a thick snow covers the top of Le Follet, and at that period it would be madness to dare the ascent; and henceforth the summit will be more dangerous than ever. Have you noticed among the rocks that have given way an enormous block of granite which formed a sort of barrier against the glacier, and prevented its overwhelming the mine? Well! if you had any conception of the terrific power of these masses of ice and snow, you would understand that in two years, or perhaps during the first tempest, an avalanche will conceal the object of your wishes for ever! No, no, gentlemen! for you to realize such a dream is impossible. To work the mine would expend more gold than the vein would return in a hundred years! Cease, then, to dispute about these useless riches; they are lost for ever."

Those to whom these words were addressed hung their heads in confusion as, piece by piece, their last illusion fell to the ground. But soon the feeling of disappointment disappeared before sentiments of a more honourable nature. For an instant the charm which had exclusively held each thought was broken. They al

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faults towards myself are already effaced; it would be better if there were not others of a graver nature which touch you more nearly." I know of whom you speak," said the chevalier, in confusion. "I have, indeed, been cruel towards poor Ernestine, and I blush to think that without your firmness she would still be awaiting the reparation to which she was so justly entitled; but for pity's sake, let me hope she will never know all my faults against her devotion." "It would be cruel now to utter a confession of that sort; but on your part, De Peyras, promise me to make her happy." "I promise you I will try to do so. But my noble cousin," continued Marcellin, lowering his tone, "you are not aware that your forgiveness, and also Ernestine's, is scarcely sufficient; there is yet another person whom I have indignantly treated, and who must hate and despise me."

"She pardons you," interrupted a soft yet firm voice at his side; "and only requires, like her father, that you should always love the wife to whom destiny has united you." It was Margaret who spoke; she had been standing beneath the

ready demanded with shame of themselves whether, in the fever and delusion now happily ended, they had not uttered words, and committed actions it was time to disavow.

The Chevalier de Peyras, above all, whose character was naturally noble and generous, felt bitterly how villanous and culpable his conduct had been during the last few hours. He pressed his hand upon his brow as if to aid his reason in repulsing his fallacious visions, and gave way to painful regret; then, drawing Martin on one side, he said, in an altered voice

"Can you ever forget, my dear cousin, my benefactor, that I have behaved most basely and ungratefully towards you. Oh! for pity's sake, crush me not by your disdain! I was drunk-I was mad-I no longer merit your friendship, or that of any other worthy man; however, I implore your pardon."

While pronouncing these words two large tears rolled down the youth's cheeks. Martin Simon was touched by his repentance. "Come, Marcellin, do not grieve thus," he replied, with his usual grave kindness; "there was some excuse on the score of an ardent imagination and an ambition natural to your age, which it is often a difficult matter to keep within proper bounds. Your

shadow of the cave, and heard all without being perceived. The chevalier, in reply, raised Margaret's hand to his lips, and then quickly retired. At this moment Michelot, with a timid and embarrassed air, approached the little group, and addressing the baillie in the honied accents which he had renounced since the morning, said

"I come to wish you farewell, my respected friend, and hope we do not part enemies. This foolish declaration of Raboisson's was positively of serious power, and I return it to you, together with the other papers supporting it." He presented the documents to Martin as he spoke, who, after casting a rapid glance over them to see they were not counterfeits, tore them in pieces. "I must confess," resumed the justice, in the same tone, "that I have not understood you, or judged your mysterious behaviour correctly. I conceived many false impressions, but I am now aware of my error. Your last sacrifice was so great, so noble, and so magnificent, that I am really astonished. I did not believe such disinterestedness could possibly exist upon earth, and frankly avow, for my own part, that I should not have been capable of a like action. The admiration I feel for you decided me upon

renouncing all proceedings against your peace, and restoring the papers."

"Yes, and the consideration that it would be useless to torment a ruined man," replied Simon, in a bantering tone; "besides, if you persecuted me now, a certain letter of credit might prove of no value. I appreciate your generosity, M. Michelot, as much as it deserves; but let us finish. The night approaches, and you could not travel in these mountains without danger at such an advanced hour; rest, therefore, at my house, and to-morrow we separate, probably for ever."

Michelot bowed his thanks, and prepared to quit the cave with Martin Simon, when, from the obscurity, another person emerged.

"Who is it now?" demanded the mountaineer, impatiently. "Me, me! adsum qui feci!" responded a groaning voice, which the King of Pelvoux recognised as the scholar's.

"What! is it you, old hypocrite? Well, what do you require? Could you not have been content with the repose and comfort I gave you-you whom I rescued from hunger and beggary? What have you wanted for during the last thirty years? I have treated you as my friend and equal; you have had a place at my table, and a seat by my fire, and yet that was not sufficient. No, you must have a grand fortune, even the wealth of your benefactor; and to wrest it from him you have become a hypocrite, a spy, and a murderer! While I thought you merely simple and absent, you were in reality cunning and attentive; while I suspected you not, you sought every opportunity to rob me of my secrets."

"M. le Baillie," interrupted Eusebius, in distracted accents, "overwhelm me not thus. I had endured poverty, and drank the bitter waters of humiliation so long, that I felt an intense desire to be envied and wealthy in my turn. Pardon me, I entreat-I implore. I am not quite ungrateful—'nec si miserum fortuna Simonem finxit.'"

The Latin was pronounced amid tears and sobs, and the effect was so comic, yet so pitiful, that Martin could not repress a smile. "Cease your jargon, poor fool," he replied; "I am always vanquished when you call Virgil to your aid. But what do you wish me to do? I have not the courage to condemn an old dog because he has bitten me, still I could not allow him a place on my hearth to give him a chance of doing it again. Besides, it is probable there may be some inquiry into your quarrel with Raboisson, and it would therefore be advisable for you to pass a few months on the other side of the frontier until the affair is settled. On your return I hope to be able to endure your presence without anger, and will take care your wants are supplied during your absence." Eusebius bowed, and retired behind in silence.

"I trust, my son," murmured a nasal voice, addressing Martin Simon, "that you are not offended by my zeal in the interests of our pious house. I should be sorry if you had misinterpreted the motives of my conduct. It was in the name of the poor, unfortunate, and the weary pilgrim that I demanded a portion.” "Deuce take me if you demanded a part," interrupted the King of Pelvoux, laughing; "you wanted the whole, or my memory is very treacherous. And as for your monastery, I do not see how that could have become suddenly enriched without exciting the attention of the officiating ministers a little. Come, father prior, you have but lost a golden calf, like the others." And having thus spoken, he took the arm of his daughter and left the cave. The sun had set, but twilight still lingered in the valley, and the moon had already risen above the mountains. The pedestrians carefully threaded the rocks encumbering their path, and were often at a considerable distance from each other. Upon approaching the village the mountaineers quickened their steps; but Peyras, Michelot, and the two old men walked slowly, and in silence, and as grave elders who, having shared in a frightful debauch at night, blush to meet their companions in the morning. "Margaret," said Simon, "this sacrifice has been more painful to me than I anticipated; nevertheless, I am proud and happy in having accomplished it. I seem to feel more cheerful, and my mind is lighter now an important secret is no longer in my keeping, and the immense responsibility removed from my shoulders. Yet, my child, I confess to you, that I fear these events will be the death-knell to the happiness of our little colony."

"Banish such sad thoughts, my father; and believe that your days henceforth will glide away in peace and repose. We are yet rich-very rich-and

"Do not speak of that," whispered the baillie; "but you are right, my little Margaret, we will henceforth live for ourselves. You will marry some honest and worthy man, and I shall revive in my grandchildren."

Margaret shuddered.

"Never, my father," she murmured, with almost savage energy.

"And why not, my child?"

The young girl rested a few moments ere she replied. "My father," she said, at last, in her usual austere tones," in once slandering you I committed a crime which, although you may forgive, will cause me to suffer both regret and remorse during the remainder of my existence. My life must be henceforth consecrated to you as an expiation of my sin. I shall never know the joys of a wife or mother, but will live in isolation and repentance. Besides," she continued, more slowly, "I can never love again as I have loved." "Who, Margaret ?"

"A man whom I now despise, my father."

And they entered the village without another word being exchanged between them.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE CONCLUSION.

THIRTY years after the events we have narrated, a little caravan traversed the road leading to the convent of Lauterat. The caravan consisted of an open litter, which appeared to contain an invalid (from the care taken in avoiding the stones), and a young man in deep mourning, who followed on horseback. The youth was handsome, and did not look more than twenty-five years of age; and from time to time he approached the litter, and addressed its occupant with tender respect. At last a peculiar formation of the rocks attracted his attention, and, hastily riding up, he exclaimed, in encouraging accents

"If I do not greatly err, Madame la Barrone, we have nearly reached our destination. Here, from your frequent description, must be the entrance to Bout-du-Monde; but I fear all is sadly changed." A lady, also in deep mourning, rose with difficulty from the cushions and gazed around; she uttered a faint cry as she marked the desolation and ruin where formerly all was order and propriety, and then sunk back exhausted.

"My beloved mother," exclaimed the youth, "how you suffer. Oh why, despite my entreaties, did you come here ?" "If I can but assure you their protection before I die!" she replied.

"For pity's sake speak not thus. I am young; and if poor I have yet an ancestry, courage, and can work. M. Simon would be old."

"I understand you, my child; but on my marriage day his daughter also promised her future aid, should I ever require it. Look out, my son, we must be near the village."

But in vain did the travellers seek a resemblance to the scene so vividly impressed upon the memory of one of them. The valley now showed no signs of cultivation, and appeared as if it had been shaken by an earthquake-heaps of stones being scattered in every direction by the side of deep excavations.

The lady (whom the reader has doubtless recognised as Ernestine) was speechless with anguish as she observed this sad change, evidently caused by those whom the report of the discovered gold mine had brought to the spot. Every building, with the exception of a few ruins, had disappeared; for in searching for the precious metal the adventurers had destroyed the rampart of rocks which protected the valley, and thus exposed it to the full fury of the storm and the avalanche.

"You spoke truly, Maurice," cried the baroness, in heartbroken accents. "Martin Simon is indeed no more; such a wreck must have killed him."

The young man dismounted and approached. "While I live my dear mother will never want a protector," he exclaimed.

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Child," she replied, "you can never know the depth of my obligations to those I now seek in vain.' "Madame," resumed Maurice, whom this reproof silenced for a few moments, "what shall we do?"

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Interrogate some of the inhabitants of these ruins, my son; they cannot be ignorant of the fate of the King of Pelvoux." The young man obeyed; and the lady let fall the curtains of the litter, partly to shield her from the piercing cold, and to hide the desolation of that spot which had for her so many conflicting reminiscences. Maurice soon arrived at one of the heaps of fallen walls, which had been formed into a wretched habitation by some poor peasant for his family, and the noise of his spurred heels caused the appearance of a boy, of about twelve years of age. whose pallid face and ragged dress gave signs of want and suffering.

"Can you tell me," inquired the youth, "if anything is known here of an old man called Martin Simon de Peyras ?"

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The boy shouted "Mother!" and an elderly female came forth from the interior of the dwelling; and, regarding the traveller with curiosity, answered-"No!"

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Strange," replied Maurice, as if to himself, "that his very name should be forgotten where he was once almost adored as a god. But pardon me, my good woman," he continued aloud, perhaps you would understand me better did I say the King of Pelvoux."

"The King of Pelvoux!" she exclaimed, with horror; and, rapidly crossing herself, she turned away, and was going to re-enter the hut, when the boy said, naively-

"Mother, was not that the famous magician, whose history you have so often told me, about his doing such wonderful things, and then being carried off by the devil ?"

"Yes; and it is foolish of a Christian to ask," she replied, glancing at Maurice, "what Satan alone can answer. Curses on the King of Pelvoux and all his abominable race.

Without replying to this malediction, although deeply grieved, the youth slipped a gold piece into the woman's hand, and said, firmly-"There must be some mistake, the man I speak of was venerated and beloved."

"Then you cannot mean the King of Pelvoux," she returned. "Perhaps some of the old inhabitants could have answered your questions, but there are none left. One must, indeed, be poor and miserable to remain here."

"What! is it impossible to find a peasant who has lived here thirty years?"

It is. When we came the valley was deserted; and we lodge in the ruins as we found them."

"Mother!" suddenly cried the boy, "the tall woman, who lives in the cave, and frightens us so much, might tell the gentleman something."

"Who is this woman?" inquired Maurice, eagerly.

"A poor mad creature, called 'The Idiot of the Rocks,' whom nobody knows, and who only leaves her cavern to get a little food from La Grave. She does not bear a good character; and people think her a witch as well as idiot. If she speaks, which is not often, it's no good, they say."

"And her name?" inquired Maurice.

"Oh! you can call her what you please, but she answers best to Margot, or Margaret." At this name De Peyras trembled. "I will seek her," he exclaimed; "tell me the road." "That is not easy, but Pierre shall guide you if you like, though he does not care to go near the witch of Le Follet."

"He shall be well rewarded for his trouble. Come, my boy!" The lad very unwillingly followed; and Maurice hastened to his mother to report his success.

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"It is Margaret!" cried Ernestine ; once so rich, so beautiful, and so beloved, now living in a hole of the rock-perhaps in the greatest misery. I will accompany you. Let us seek her."

The travellers now passed along the route leading to Le Follet, but the horses being unable to pass through the defile, Ernestine remained at the entrance of the rocky valley, and her son, with his guide, proceeded alone. When near the groups of firs already mentioned, the boy plucked the youth's sleeve, and whispered, in terror

"There!" at the same time pointing to a female figure, seated upon the platform of the cave, beneath the shelter of which Martin and his daughter had watched the explosion.

Her vision intently fixed upon Mount Follet (now, as Simon had predicted, crowned with eternal snow), the youth could not see her face; and the child said, in a low, fearful voice

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Speak to it if you will, but I shall return to the lady. God guard you." And making the sign of the cross, Pierre fled rapidly

"He speaks," she replied, trembling. "Yes, I heard the sound of his voice. It is him, younger and more handsome, yet thirty years have passed. Oh! they are right, I am mad."

She rose, as if to enter the cavern, but De Peyras made an effo:t, and exclaimed

"I entreat you, Madame, be not afraid; I will trouble you no longer than to inquire if you can tell me aught of Martin Simon or his daughter, Margaret ?"

'You, his son, but where is he?-why did he not come ?" "If you speak of my father," replied the youth, sadly, "this mourning garb

"He is dead," murmured the recluse, in a dull voice, "and perhaps never thought of- -but tell me your mother, has she been happy? No, confess that she has been otherwise-that he made her miserable."

"I must know by whom such questions are asked, ere I reply," haughtily returned Maurice.

"Do you not see?-but no, few would now recognise the unhappy Margaret," and again seating herself, she wept abundantly. Tears of sympathy glistened in the eyes of the youth, and observing them she exclaimed

"You are kind, you weep, and yet you cannot comprehend how much I merit your compassion, I who was once so proud, so beloved, and am now so poor, old, and desolate."

"What!" inquired Maurice, "have you neither friends nor relatives to console you ?"

All, all gone! I alone remain faithful to memory; but the recital of my sufferings cannot interest you; tell me your father, he must have died covered with honours and dignities."

"Alas! Madame, it was not so; we have endured privation, almost to want."

"I understand," she murmured, after some moments silence; "he loved pleasure, was haughty and extravagant. I feared it would be so, and your mother, where is she?"

"She is not far distant, but weak and suffering. If you would"

"I will not see her," interrupted Margaret, with a shudder; "she has doubtless discovered- -the interview would be too painful. There must have been some other cause for this journey than to see a cousin, neglected for thirty years."

Madame, I can scarcely confess." "Speak! speak!"

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My mother thought

"Well, what

"To tell you truly, Madame la Barrone came hither to entreat your protection for her son-for me."

"I doubt it not," replied the recluse, bitterly; "we overwhelmed the father and grand-parent with benefits, and now the child

demands his share."

"He demands but counsel and affection, Madame," exclaimed Maurice, arrogantly; "and even these he is at liberty to reject." This outburst did not appear to displease the solitary.

"He is haughty, like his father," she muttered. "Young man," she resumed aloud, "a promise made by either my dead father or myself must be kept. I have waited for you, and, poor as I seem, can rescue you once more. You have doubtless a horse, bring it here, and you can load it with the treasure."

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But, Madame

"Go!" she repeated, imperiously.

During the youth's absence Margaret lighted a lamp, and commenced actively digging in a corner of the cave. She soon came to a small iron-hooped barrel, the appearance of which indicated that it had been buried some years.

"It is the last of our wealth," murmured the recluse, as she raised it; "and when I placed it here, I thought of him I have often dreaded, lest thieves should wrest the treasure from me; but it is over now, and I shall fear no more."

Plunged in her reverie, she heard not approaching footsteps until a voice cried

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'Margaret, my dear Margaret, is it you?"

And Ernestine, tottering, and supported by her son, came towards her.

"I will not look upon you," said the daughter of Simon, the blood rushing into her pale cheeks. "Sir!" addressing Maurice, "why have you done this ?"

"Oh! do not blame him," cried Ernestine, entreatingly. "I hoped that, despite your love of solitude, you would not repulse my affection, or refuse a mother's thanks for the protection you have promised her son."

"She is right; and, perhaps, does love me," said Margaret, as i. to herself; "besides, did she not defend my father, whenStopping abruptly, she offered her visitors a couple of wooden stools, and resumed, in a tone of cold politeness

"My cousin is welcome to the dwelling of Margaret de Peyras