226 

 LIONEL LACKLAND, 



Ta Its tacvroYj 



OR THINGS CONCERNING MYSELF. 



SOAR THE FIRST. 



(Continued from page 171.) 



The tones were deep and stern, sometimes rapid, or rising into 

 a momentary passion, then suddenly sinking into the same low, 

 vibratory sound, which at first startled me; even in the mono- 

 tonous thrum of that voice, there was an energy strikingly 

 impressive. As I listened, my curiosity became unbearable; I 

 resolved to discover the speaker. Fixing the oar softly on the 

 sea-weeded rocks, I pushed off without the slightest noise; still 

 keeping under the shadow of the cliffs, I floated a few yards 

 further down, until I turned a projecting crag, when jumping on 

 fihore, I pulled in the head of the boat over the slippery stones, 

 and moved round the crag, gliding under the deepest shadow of 

 the rocks. I crept silently along, until I reached to within a few 

 yards of the cavern, whence the sound had evidently issued, 

 breathless with my exertions, my heart beating audibly against 

 my ribs ; I almost repented of my temerity ; for a few moments 

 I rested, uncertain whether to remain ; my curiosity prevailed, 

 and advancing noiselessly, I drew myself still further under the 

 Tocks ; there I sat like a timid hare in her form ; looking down 

 the cavern, which extended for some distance, I could just make 

 out the forms of two persons, but the light was too obscure to see 

 whether of man or woman. "Forgive him! preach to me of 

 pardon ! what ! will you, too, join with my own weak, womanish 

 heart, that sometimes pleads against its own revenge; I would 

 that my heart were as hard as these beaten rocks. Forgive 

 him ! what him ! no, woman, you don't mean what you say ; 

 what! pardon him after all" — (here the voice rose with terrific 

 force) — "never, never. Dost thou hear me? what have I been ? 

 what am I now ? a being once as happy as hope could make me, 

 as fond and kind as a mother to her child ; as generous as tlie 

 undenying earth; I may say all this now, for to what am I 

 reduced ? a creature beneath contempt — a wretch to be pitied 

 and laughed at — ah, ah, ah — yes, yes, I will forgive him. Forgive 

 him, who made me what I am, what we are — yes, girl, we, we, I 

 say, for what ait thou ? oh God ! let me not think of what thou 

 wert; no, no — keep me from that." I saw the man seize his 

 listener by the arm, as he continued, in a low, sepulchral voice — 

 " Dost thou know this place ? Ay, here it was, in this same 

 wizard's cave; tears, curses, struggles, that blow; 'twas well 



