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The Turning of fihe Long, Long Lane. BY MON SIEUR DEMOULIN. “ But I found out in Brandon'the and par- tioulare of the final fate of the poor wife and her unfortunate children. They had been sent away or assisted away by this Potts to America, and had all died either on the way out or shortly after they had arrived, acnord- ing to the villagers. I did not tell them what I knew, but 1m them to brlieve what they chose. It. seemed to me that they must have received thisâ€"information from Potts himself. who alone in that poor community would have been able to trace the fortunes of the unhappy emigrants." There was a. long silence. “ I have done all that I could," said Despard, in a dieconeolate tone, “ and I sup» pose nothing now remains to be done. When we hear again from Paolo there may be some new information upon which we can act.” “ And you can go back to your Byzantine poets.” “ Yes, if you will assist me.” “You know I shall only be too happy.” “ And I shall be eternally grateful. You i see. as I told you before, there is a. field of labor here for the lover of music which is like a new world. I will give you the grandest musical compositions that you have ever seen. I will let. you have the old hymns of the saints who lived when Constantinople was the only civilized spot in Europe, and the Christ- ians there were hurling back the Mohammeâ€" dnns. You shall sing the noblest songs that you have ever seen 7 " '1 ,,,,AL L---L .Mn “ How-â€"in Greek? You must teach the glphaibetjhen.”_ _ u“. “mummy..- -.___ “ No; I will translate them ‘for you. The Greek hymns are all in rhythmical prose, like the Te Deum and the Gloria. A literal trans- lation can be sung as well as the onginals. You will then enter into the mind and spirit of the ancient Eastern church before the dawn of the schism. “ Yes,” continued Despard. with an enthu- siasm which he did not care to conceal. “ we will go together at this sweet task, and we will sing the Kath’ hekasten emeran, which holds the same place in the Greek church that the Te Deum does in ours. We will chant together the Golden of Canons, the grandest song of ‘ Christ is risen ’ that mortals ever composed. Your heart and mine will beat together with one feeling at the sublime choral strain. We will sing the ‘ Hymn of Victory.’ We will go together over the songs of St Oosmas, St. Theophanes, and St. Theodore ', St. Gregory. St. Anatobus, and St, Andrew of Crete shall inspire us; and thw thoughts that have kindled the hearts of martyrs at the stake shall exalt our souls to heaven. But I have more than this. I have some compositions of my own ; poor ones. indeed, yet an efiort in the right way. They are a collection of those hymns of the Primi- tive church which are contained in the New Testament. I have tried to ' set them to music. They are : ‘ Worthy is the Lamb,’ ' Unto Him that loves us,’ ‘ Great and mar velous are Thy works,’ and the ‘ 'I‘risagion.’ Yes, we will go together at this lofty and heavenly work, and I shall be able to gain a ney interpretation for your sympathy.” PITCHERY-BIDGERY. Despard spoke with a vehement. enthusiasm that kindled his eyes Winn unusual lustre and spread a glow over his pale face. He looked like some devotee under a sudden inspiration. Mrs. Thornton caught all his enthusiasm ; her eyes brightened, and her face also flushed with excitement}. “ Whenever you are ready to lead me inlo that new world of music,” said she, “ I am ready to follow." “ Are you willing to begin next Monday?” “ Yes. all my time is my own." “ Then I will come for you.” “ Then I will be waiting for you. Bydhe way. are you engaged for to-night ?” “ No, why ?” “ There is going to be a fete ohampetre. It is a ridiculous thing for the Holby people to do ; but I have to go to play the patronees. Mt. Thornton does not want to go. Would yon saexifice yourself to my necessities, and allow‘me your escort ‘2" _ 7"" Wbulaé thirsty man be willing to accept a cooling draught ‘1” said Despard eagerly “You open heaven beforpwjiaskmiil will enteLfifiâ€"A * I'M/1” ""‘uficefig’mbled and he paused. “ You never forget yourself.” said Mrs. Thornton, with slight agitation, looking away as she spoke. “ I will be back at any hour you say.” “You will do no such thing. Since you are here you must remain and dine, and then go with me. Do you suppose I would trust you? Why, it I let you go, you might keep me wait} ing a whole hour." 773Well, if your will is not law to me what is? Speak. and your servant obeys. To may will gnly afid no my happinesg." 7 “ Thén let me inaké ion happy by forcing yot_1 to Mafia ..-... w. H iDespard’s face showed his feelings, and to judge by its expression his language had not. been extravagant. The afuernoon passed quietly. Dinner was served up. Thornton came in and greeted Despatd with his usual abstraction, leaving his wife to do the agreeable. After dinner, as usual, he prepared for a. nap. and Des part! and Mrs. Thornton started for the fete. It was to be in some gardens at the other end of Holby, along the shore. The towns“ people had recently formed a park there, and this was one of the preliminaries to its for- mal inauguration. The trees were hung with innumerable lumps of varied colors. There were bands of music, and triumphal arches, and gay lefltoona. and wreaths of flowers, and everything that is usual at such a time. 0n arrivingDespard assisted Mrs. Thornton from the carriage and ofiered his arm. She took it, but her hand rested so lightly on it that its touch was scarce perceptible: They walked around through the illuminated pathsl Great crowds of people were there. All looked with respectful pleasure at Mrs. Thornton and the Rector. “ You ought to be glad that you have come," said she. " See how these poor peo~ ple feel it ! We are not persona of very great consequence. yet our presence is marked and enjoyed. u. . n ,,, , 1 “ All places are alike to me,” answered Deapard, “ when I am with you. Still, there are circumstances about. this which will make it forever memorable to me." fl‘v‘vijddk Vat those lights,” exclaimed Mrs Thornton, suddenly, ‘f what variggi 09191:; 3 ’ “ Let u’s walk ink.) that; grow-1,” said Des- pard. turning toward a. cool. dark place which lay_before>tb.em. 'Here; at the end of the grotto, was a tree, at the foot of which was a. seat. They sat down and staid for hours. In the distance the lights awinkled and music arose. They said little, but listened to the confused mur~ mur which in the pauses of the music came up from afar. u n 1' u-rx.,- They walked on slowly, saying so little that at last Mrs. Thornton began to speak about the muexc which they had proposed to undertake. Despard’s enthusiasm seemed to Despard sighed. “ You and I." said be sleeping low and speaking in a sad voice " are compelled to go against the tide.” “ Shall we turn back and go with it '1 " “ We can not.” “ Do you wish to tum aside 7 ” “ We cannot“ qutist walk against th( tide, and against the rush of men. If Wt tum aside there is nothing but darknesa.” VTThen they rose and walked back. Entering the principal path a great crowd streamed on which they had 159 face; “71‘7th walked on in silefice till they reached the finite. __v a” , H The carriage has not come,” said Mrs. Thornton. -' Do you prefer riding? ” “ No.” " It is not far. Will you walk 7 " “ With pleasure.” They walked on slowly. About half-way they met the carriage. Mrs. Thornton or- dered it back. saying that she would walk the “est of the way. have left him. Hi3 reflies were vague uld general. On reaching the gate he stood mm for a moment under the trees and half turned toward her. “ You don’fi say anything at out the music? ” said she. 77‘7‘ That’s because I am so stupid. I have lost my head. I am not. capable of a single coherent idea.” “ My brain is in a. whirl. Yes, I am think- ing of something else.” “ Of what ? 7’ “ I'm afraid to say." Mrs, Thornton was silent. They entered the game and walked up the avenue, $310le and in silence. Despurd made one or two efforts to slop, and than uonlinued. At last they macth the door. The lights were streaming brightly from the window. Dea- pard stood. silently. ‘ 1 “ Will you 11m come in ‘2 " “ No, thank you," said he dreamily. " It is rather tbo late, and 1 must 30. Good night." “ Yofi Iii-érrthinking of something else all the time.” the He held out his hand. She ofiered hens and he took it. He held it long, and, half- stooped as though he wished to say some- thing. She felt the throbbing in his hand as “i clasped hers. She said nothing. Nor did Despard seem able to say anything. At last he let her hand go slowly and reluctantly. “ You will not forget the music ? ” said he. “ No." “ Goodâ€"night.” He took her hand again in both of his. As the light shone though the Windows she saw ‘his face -a face full of longing beyond words, k11ml sadness unutterable. He let go her hand, and turning away, was 103‘ amidst the gloom. She waited till the sound of his footsteps had died away, and then went into the house. On the followmg morning Despard was walking along when he met her suddenly at a. corner at the street. He stopped with a radiant face, and. shaking hands with her. for a moment was unable to speak. -V., .__ __ _, “ This was too much happiness,” he said at last. ” It is like a ray of light to a poor captive whsn you burst upon me so suddenly. Where are you going? ” "3'65,"1?m"on1§ géing to do a little shop- pingi) n. “ I'm sure I wish that I could accompany you to protect you.” “ Well, why not ‘2" “ 0n the Whole. I think that shopping is not my form, and that my presence would not be essential.” He turned, however, and walked with her some distance, as far as the farthest shop in the town. They talked gayly and pleasantly about the fete. “ You will not forget the music.” said he on parting. “ W111 you come next Mondav ? If you don’t I won’t. be re sponiible for the conssqueucesfi” spouswle 10: 111-18 uuusfllucuucu. " Then you mean to say, sirihat yop. expect me to come alone 7" “ I did not hope for anything else.” “ Why, of course, you must snll for me. If you do not I won’t go.” Despard’a eyes brightened. " Oh, then, since you allow me so sweets privilege, I will go and accompany you.” ” If you fail me I will stay at home,” and she. laughingly. He did not fail her, but at the appointed time went up to the Grange. Some strangers were there, and Mrs. Thornton gave him a look of deep disappointment. The strangers were evidently going to spend the day. so Despnrd, after a shot: call. withdrew. Before he left. Mrs. Thornton absented herself on some pretext for a. few moments, and as he qumed the room she went to the door with him and gave him a note. He walked straight home, honing the note in his hands till he reached his study ; then he locked himself in. opened the note, and read as follows : “ DEAR MR DESPARD, How does it happen that things turn out just as they ought not? I was so anxious to go with you to the church tic-day about our music. 1 know my own powers ; they are not contempiible; they are not uncultivated; they we simply, and wholly, and irretrievably commonplace. That much I deem it my duty to inform you. “ These wretched people, who have spoiled l a. day’s pleasure, droppeJ on me “magma? as though they had come from (Elle skY- . " ‘ y orni 7__, onus on I'hurstlay aintelnoon. ll yoifmao notI will never forgive you. On that day give up your manuscripts and books for music and the organ, and allot some portion of your time to, Yours, T. T." On Thursday Despard called, and Mrs. Thornton was able to accompany bun. The church was an old ons‘ and had one of the best organs in Wales. Daspard was to play and she so sing. He had his music ready, and the sheets were carefully and legibly wriltsn out from the precious old Greek ‘ scores which he loved so dearly and prized so highly. They began with the canon for Easter day of St. John Damaueene, who. according to Despard. Wfls‘the best of Eastern hymninta. Mrs. Thornton‘s voice was rich and 1411. AB she came to the Resurrection Day it took up a tone of indescribable exulmtion, blend~ ing with the triumph peel of the organ. Des- pard added his own voice. adeep, strong, full toned bassn, and their blended snmine bore aloft; the sublimeet of utterances, Christ is arisen ! t Then followed a more mournful chant, full of sadness and profound melancholy, the Last Kiss, the hymn oi che dead, by the same Pofit' Then followed a eublimer strain. the hymn of St. Theodore on the Judgmcnt, where all the horrors of the day of doom are set forth. The chant wee commensurate with the dread splendors oi the theme. The voxcce of the two singere blended in perfect concord. The sounds which were thus wroughl out. bore themselves through the vaulzed aisles, returning again to their own ears, im- parsing to their own hearts something of the awe with which imagination has euehrouded the Day of days, and giving to their voices that sndened cadence which the sad spirit can convey to its material unerance. The chant was a. marvellous one. It spoke of sorrow past, of grief stayed, of misery at. an and foraver, of tears dried, and a time when “ there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying.” There was a, gentle murmur in the flow of that. solemn, soothing strain. which was the sighing of the evening wind among the hoary forest trees ; it somth and comforted it brought hope, and holy calm, and sweet peace. _ Despard then produced some compositions of his own, made after the manner of the Eastern chants, which he insisted were the primitive songs of the early church. The words were these fragments of hymns which are imbedded in the text 0% the New Testa~ ment. He chose first the Song 01 the angels, which was first sung by “ a. great voice out of heaven ”â€"idou he skene teu Theou ~Be- hold, the tabernacle of of God is with men ! I As Deapard rose from the organ Mrs. Thornton looked at bun with monstean eyes “ I do not knmv whether your songs brings calm or unrest.” said she, sadly, “ but after singing it I wquld wish to die." ‘rlt‘is not the music, it is the words,’ answered Despard, “ which bring before us 1 time when there shall be no sorrow or sigh‘ ing.‘_’_ Despard’a whole frame trembled. “Will you sing the Ave Maria?” he asked, in a. low, scarce audible voice. Her head dropped. She gave a convulsive sign. He continued : We used to mm; In in the old days, the sweet, never~forgotten dogs now past forever. We sang it here. We stood hand in hand.” His voice ialtered. “Sing,” he said, after a time. 5129‘ “ That,” he replied, “ it is ours to mm after. There is such a. world. In that world all wromga will be righted, friends will be reunited, and those severed here through all this earthly life will be joined for evermore.” Their eyes men. Their spirit lived and glowed in that gaze. It WM; and beyond ex- pression. but each one held commune with the other ina. mute intercourse, more elo- quent than words. May such a time ever be?” murmured ” I can not.” Despard sighed. “ Perhapsfi is better not ; for I feel as though, if you were to sing it. my‘ heart would break.” v“ Do you believe that hearts can break? " she 8.?de but with indescribable pathos. Despard looked at her mourxlfuily, and said not a word. Their singing went on. They used to meet once a week and sing in the church at the organ. Despard always went up to the Grange and accompanied her to the church. Yet he scarcely ever went at any other time. A stronger connection and a deeper familiarity arose between them, which yet was accompanied by a profound reverencfi on Despard’s part, that never diminished, but as the familiarity increased only grew more tender and more devoted. There were many things about their music which he had to say to'her. It; constituted a common bond betwaen them on which they could talk, and to which they could always raven. It formed a medium for the commu- nion of soulâ€"a. lof3y, spiritual intercourse, where they ' seemed to blend, even as their voices blended, in a. purer realm, free from the trouble of earth. Amidab it all Deapard had so much to tell her about the nature of the Eastern music that he wrote out a long letter, which he gave her as they parted after an unusually lengthy practice. ,Part of it was on the subject of mania. and the rest of a different character. “ DEAR MR. DESPABD â€"Why am I not a seraph, endowed with mueical powers beyond mortal reach. You tell me many things, and never seem to imagine that they are all beâ€" yond me. You never seem to think ‘hat I am hopelessly commonplace. You are kmdin doing what you do, bm [where is the good whore one is so stupid as I am ? The. next time that they met she gave him a note in response. “ I suppose you ha've given up visiting the Grange forever. I don’t call your coming to take me to the chumh visits. I suppose I may as well give you up. It is as difficult to get you here as if you were the Grand Lama of Thibet. “ Amidst all my stupidities I have two or three ideas which may be used in our music, if I can only put them in practice. Bear with me, anal deal gently with " Yours, despondingly. T. T.” To this Despnrd replied in a note which he gave her at their next meeting, calling her “ Dear Seraph,” and signing himsvlf “ Grand Lama.” After this they always called each other by these names. Grand Lama was an odd name, but it became the sweaters: of sounds to Despard since it was uttered by \her lips ~the sweetest, the most musical. and the tenderest. As to himself he knew not what to call this dear companion of his youth, but the name Seraph came into use, and grew ta be associated with her, until at last he never called her anything, else. Yet after this he used to go to the Grange more frequently. He could not stay away. Elia steps wandered there irresistibly. An uncontrollable impulse forced him there. She was always alone awaiting him, generally with a sweet confusion of face and tenderness of greeting which made him feel ready to fall on his knees before her. How elae eoulel he feel “.7 Was she not always in his thoughts ? Were not all his sleeping hours one long dream of her? Were not all his waking thought-e filled with her radiant presence ? ‘ How is it under our control To love or not to love ‘2” Did he know what it was that he felt for her? He never thought. Enough that he felt. And that feeling was one long agony of intense longing and yearning after her. Had not all his life been filled by that one blight ‘imaize? Youth gave it to him. Amer years could not effuce it. The impress of her (use was upon his heart. Her voice was alwavs in his ears. Every word that she had ever spoken to him was treasured up in his memory and heart with an avarice of love which plrevem~ ed any one word from even being forgotten. At church and at home, during service and ‘muhnLiLinJhehstm o in the stud? he saw only one immana hear onyone‘VéiaTx only one face,and heard onlWe'Vfi'uE’ Amidst the bustle of committee meetings he was conscious of her imageâ€"a. sweet face smilmg on him. a. tender voice saying “ Lama.” Was there ever so musical and so dear a. Word as “ Lama?” For him, never. The hunger of his longing grew stronger every day. That strong. proud, selfrsecluded nature of his was most intense in all its feel- ings, and dwelt with concentrated passion upon this one object; of its idolatry. ‘ He had never had any other object but this one. A happy boyhood passed in the society of this sweet playmate, then a. young girl of his own age; a. happy boyhood here in Holby, where they had always been inseparable, wondering hand. in hand along the shore or over the hills; 9. happy boyhood where she was the one and only companion whom he knew or cared for-this was the sole legacy of his early lifeâ€"Leaving Holby he had left her, but had never forgotten her. He had earned with him the tender memory of this bright being, and cherished his undying fondness, not knowing what fondness meant. He had returned to find her married, and severed from him forever, at least in this life. When he found that he had lost her he began to understand how deer she was. All life stood before him aimless. pointless, and ‘meaningless without her. He came back, ‘hut the old intercourse could not be renewed ; she could not be his, and he could only live, and love, and endure. Perhaps it would have been wiser if he had at once left Holby and isought out some other abode. But the dis. covery of his love was gradual ; and when he Iknew that his love was so intense it was then limpossible to leave. To be near her. to breathe the same air, to see her face ocean- eionslly, to nurse his old memories, to hoard up new rememberances of her words and looks-these now became the chief occupa- tion of his hours of solitude, and the only happiness left him in his life. One day he went up with a stronger sense of desoia‘ion in his heart. than usual, going up to see her in order to get consolation from the sight of her face and the sound of her voice. Their former levity had given place to a seriousness of manner which was very different. A deep, intense joy shone in the eyes of each at meeting, but: that quick re- partee and light; bndiuage which they had used of old had been drapped. In their intercourse it was [strange how frequently there were long pulses of perfect silence, during which nei- ther spoke a word. Sumeiimeu each sat looking at the floor; summimva they looked at one another, an though they could read each othet’a thoughts, and. by the mere gaze of their earnest eyes oould hold ample spiritual communion. Music was the one thing of which they could speak without fear. Despard could talk of his szamine poets, and the chants of the Eastern Church, without being in dan- ger of reawakening painful memories The piano stood close by. and always afforded a convenient mode of distracting attention when 11; became too absorbed in one another. 7 On ode such occasion they stood by the Window looking out upon the lawmbub seeing For Mrs. Thornton did nut repel him ; she did not resent his longing; she did not seem forgetful of what he so well remembered How was it with her who had given her hand to another? “ What she felt the While Dare he think ?" Yet there were times when he thought; it possible shat she might feel as he did. The thuughb brought joy. but it also brought feat For, if the snuggle against this feeling need, ed all the strength of his nature. what must it cost her? If she had such a. struggle as he, how could she endure in? Then, as he considexed this, he thought to himself that he would rather she would not love him than love him at such a cost. He was Willing to sacrific-s his own heart. He wiahed only to adore her, and wns content that She should receive, and permit. and acoept his adora- tiun, herself unmovedâ€"a. passionleas divinity. CHAPTER XXVI. CLASPED HANDS. nothing in that abstracfied gaze. Despard stood facing her close to her. Her hand was hang- ing by her side. He stooped and took that little slender hand in his. As he did so he trembled from head to foot. As he did so a. faint flush passed over his face. Her head fell forward. Despm‘d held her hand and she did not withdraw it. Despard drew her slightly toward him. She looked up into his face with large, eloquent eyes, sad beyond all description, yet speaking things which filled his soul. He looked down upon her with eyes that told her all that was in his heart. She turned her head away. . Despard clung to her hand as though‘ that hand were his life, his hope, his jovâ€" as that alone could save him from some abns of despair into which he was falling. Hie lips moved. In vain. No audible sound broke that intense stillness in which the beating and throbbing of those two forlorn hearts could be heard. His lips moved, but all sound died (may upon them. At last a. stronger efi'ort broke the silence. “ Teresa. l ” It was a strange tone, 8. tone of longing un- utterable, a. tone like that which a. dying men uses in calling before him one most dear. And all the pent-up feeling of years rushed forth in concentrated energy, and was borne to her ears in the sound of that one word. She looked up with the some glance as before. ."Lime playmate,” said he, in a tone of in- finiteâ€"sweetness, “ have you ever forgotten the old days? Do you remember when you and I last stood hand in hand ? ” His voice sounded like the utterance of tears, as though, if he could have wept, he would than have wept as no man wept before ; but his eyes were dry through his manhood, and all that tears can express were shown forth in his tone. As he began to speak her head fall again. As he ended she looked up as before. Her lips moved. She whispered but one word : “ Courtenay 1" She burst into a. flood of tests and sank in- to a. chair. And Despard stood, not daring even to soothe her, for fear lest inthat vehem- ent convulsion of his soul all his self-com- mand should give way utterly. 7 7At length Mira. Thérnton 'roae. “ Lama," said she, at last. in a low, sad voice. " let us go 1:01p? pinnq." “ Will §ou sing the Ave Maria. 7" he asked. mournfully. r ; “ I dare“ not." she said. hastily. “No, any thing but thaw. I will sing Rossini’s Gujus Animam. ’ W '1‘an followed those words which tell in lofty strains of a broken heart : Cujus animum gementem Contrismtmn et flebentem l’ertrunsivit gladius ! When Mrs. Thornton saw Despard next she showed him a. short note which she had just received from her brother, accompanying nis journal. Nearly two years had elapsed since she had last heard from him. His journal was written as before at long intervals. and was as: follows: Halifax, April 10. 1847.â€"I exist here. but nothing more. Nothing is oflered by this small colonial town that can afiord interest. Life goes on monotonoualy. The officers and their {amides are what they are everywhere They are amiable and pleasant, and try to get the best out of life. The townspeople are hospitable, and there is much refinement among them. 7 But. I lwe for the most part in a. cottage outside of the town, Where I can be secluded and free from observamon. Near my house is the Northwest Arm. I cross it in a boat, and am at once in savage wilderness. From the summit of a hill, appropriately named Mount Misery. I can look down upon this citv which is bordered by such a wilderness. The winner has passed since my last emry‘ and nothing has occurred. I have learned to state. I went out on a noose-hunt with Colonel Despard. The gigantic horns of a moose which I killed are now over the door of my studio. I have joined in some festivities, and have done the honors of my house. It is an old fashioned wooden structure which they call the Priory. *“SVD its rl,‘ inter bWraudApriLialnom. here. In this country there is no spring. Snow is yet on the ground. Winter is trans- formed gradually into summer. 1 must keep up my fires till June, they say. During the winter I have guarded my tress- ure well. I took a house on purpose to have a. home for her. But her melancholy com tinned. and the state of mind in which I found her still endures. Will it ever change? I gave out here that she was a. relative who was in ill health. But the winter has passed, and she remains precisely the same. Can she live on long in this mood? At length I have decided to try a change for her. The holy Sisterhood of mercy have a convent here. where she may find a, higher and purer atmosphere than any where else. There I have placed her. I have told nothing of her story. They think she is in grief for the death of friends. They have received her with that warm sympathy and holy love which in is the aim of their life to cherish. August 5, 1847.â€"The summer goes on pleasantly. Abracing climate, a cool sea- breeze, fishing and humng in the forests, sailing in the harbor-these are the nmuse manta which one can find if he has the leis- ute. She has been among the sisterhood of mercy for some months. The deep calm of that holy retreat has soothed her, but only this much that her melancholy has not lessened, but grown more placid. She is in the midst of those whose thoughts are habitually directed to that world whxeh she longs after. The home from which she has been exciled is the desire of their hearts. They aim after that place for which she longs with so deep a longing. There Is sympathy in all those hearts with one another. She hears in their chants and prayers those hopes and desires. and these are but the utterances of What she feels. Here they sing the matshless Rhythm of Bernard de Morlaix, and in these words she finds the highest expression that human words can give of the thoughts and desires of her soul. They tell me that the firs: time may sang it, as they came to this passage she burst into tears and sank down almost senseless : She told them once that she was not a Catholic. but that. any form of worship was sweet and precious to hatâ€"most of all, the lofty utterances of the prayers and hymns of the church. She would not listen to dogmas, but ways that God wishes only love and praise. Yet she joins in all their rites, and in this House, where love is chiefly adored, she surpasses all in the deep love other heart. November 17.â€"â€"'1‘he winter must soon here again. My treasure is well guarded by the Holy Sisterhood. They revere her and look upon her as a saint. They tell me wonderful things about her which have sunk into my soul. They think that she is another Saint Cecilia. or rather Saint Teresa, the Saint of Love and Longing. January 2, 1848.â€"I have seen her for the first time in many months. She smiled. 1 never saw her smile before, except once in the ship, when I told my name and made her mother take my place in the cabin. They 9.11 say that she is unchanged. Her sadness has no sbatnment. On that meet- ing she made an effort for my sake to stoop to me. Perhaps she saw how my very soul entrested her to speak. So she spcke of the Sisterhood, and said she loved them all. I asked her if she was happier here than at my house. She said “ No.” I did not know whether to feel rejoiced or sorrowful. Then She smiled. '1’: W25 as if an angel from heaven had smiled on me. Do I not believe that she is one? O bona. putria. I Iumina. sobria to speculantur, Ad tum nomina sobrin lumina. collacrimzmtur : Est ma menti pectoris unctis, cum doloris Uonciplentibus methem mentibus ignis amoris. O mater alum. Christi carissimn, Te nuuc flugitant devotn. cords. at om, Ora. pro uobis! JOURNAL OF PAOLO LANGHETTI. CHAPTER XXVII. be she told me something which has filled me with wonder ever since. She asked me if I had been making in- quiries about her family, for I had said that I would. I told her that I had. She asked What I had heard. I hesitated fora moment, and at last. seeing that she was superior to any sorrow or bereavement, I told her all about the sad fate of her brother Louis, which your old friend Courtenay Despard had oom- muniosted to his uncle here. She listened without emotion, and at last, looking earnest- ly at me. said, “ He is not dead ! ” I stood amazed. I had seen the very news- papers which contained an account of his death. I had read the letters of Courtenay Despard, which showed how painstaking his search had been. Had he not traveled to every place where he could hear anything of the Brandons? Had he not written at the very outset wherever he could hope to hear anything? I did not know what to say. For Louis Brandon is known to have fallen overboard from the ship Java during a fire mendous monsoon, several hundred miles away from any land. How could he possibly have escaped death ? The captain, whom Courtenay Despardiound out and questioned, said he threw over a hen coop and a. pail. These could not save him. Despard also in- quired for months from every ship that arrived from those parts, but could learn nothing. The 11 Kt ship that came from New South Wales founderedoff the coast of Africa. Three passengers escaped to Sierra Leone, and thence to England. Despard learned their names, but they were not Brandon. The information which one of them, named Wheeler, gave to the ship-owners afiorded no hope of his having been found by any ship, even if it had been possible. It was simply impossible, however, for the Falcon did not ‘pass the spot where poor Brandon fell over- , board till months had elapsed. All these things I knew, and they came to my mind. She did not notice my emotion, but. utter a. pause she looked at me again with the same earnestness. and said, “ My brother Frank is not dead.” This surprised me as much as the other. “ Are you sure ?” said I reverently. " I am." “ How did you learn this ? All who have inquired say that both of your brothers are dead." “ They told me,” said she, ” many times. They said that my brothers had not come among them to their own place, as they would have had to come if they had left the earth.” 7 She spoke solemnly and with mysterious emphasis. I said nothing, for I knew not What to say, On going home and thinking over this, I saw that she believed herself to have the power of communicating with the departed. I did not know whether this intelligence, which she believed she had received. had been gain- ed in her trance, or Whether she thought that she had recent interviews with those on high. I went to see her again. and asked this. She told me that once since her recovery she had fallen into that state, and had been, as she called it, “ in her home.” I ventured to ask her more about What she considered a communion with the departed. She tried no speak, but looked like one who could not find Words. It was still the some as before. She has in her mind thoughm which can not be expressed by any human language. She will not be able to express them till such a. language is obtained Yet she gave me one idea, which has been in my mind ever since. She said that the language of those among whom she has been fine nothing on earth which is like it except music. If our music could be developed to an indefinite extent it. might at last begin to resembie it. Yet she said that she sometimes heard strains here in the Holy Mass which reminded hex.- 01 that language. and might be intelligible to an immortal. This is the idea which she imparted to me, i and I have thought of it ever since. ‘ Auguat 23.â€"Gl'eat things have happened. When I last wrote I had gained the idea. of transforming 11111810 into a language. The thought came to me that I. who thirst to: music, and love it and 'cnerlsh‘it ohm an fixingsâ€"to whom it is an hourly comfort; and. solace â€"â€"tha.t I might rise to utter forth to her sounds which she might hear. I had already seen enough of her spiritual tone to know what sympathies and emotions might best be acted upon. I saw her several times. so as to asimulate my- self to a higher and pure): exercise of what ‘ ever genius I may have. I was encouraged by the thought that from my earliest childhood, as I began to learn to speak so I began to learn to sing. As I learned to read printed type so I read printed music. The thoughts of composers in music thus became as legible to me as those of com posers in words. So all, my life my knowâ€" ledge has widened, and with that knowledge my love has increased. This has been my one aim in lifeâ€"my joy my delight. Thus it came to pass that at last. when alone with my Oremona, I could utter my own thoughts, and pour forth every reeling that was in my heart. This was a language with me. I spoke it, yet there was no one who could understand it fully. Only one had I ever met With to whom I told this besides yourâ€" self-she could accompany meâ€"she could understand and follow me wherever I led. I could speak this language to her, and she could hear and comprehend. This one was lmxBicef Now that she had. told me this I grasped at the thought. Never before had the idea entered my mind of trying upon her the effect of my music. I had given it up for her sake while she was wiih me, not liking to cause any sound to disturb her rapt and melancholy mood. But now I_ began to understand how it was with her. She had learned the lam guage of the highest places and had heard the New Song. She stood far above me. and if she could not understand my music it would be from the same reason that a grown man can not comprehend the wonls of a lieping. stemmering child. She had that- language in its fullness. I had it only in fine erudest rudiments. ,quNow Bice learned my words and followed me. She knew my utterance. I was the master A she the disciple. But here was one who could lead me. I would be the follower and deeiple. From her I could learn more than in all my life I could ever discover by my own unassisted efiorts. Sof fasted and firayed. I took up the words from the holy priesthood, and I said, as they any : It was mine, therefore, to struggle to overcome the lisping,stammering utterance of my purely earthly music; to gain from her some knowledge of the mood of that holier. heavenly expression, so that at last I might be able in some degree to speak to this exile the language of the home which she .loved ; that We, by holdmg commune in this language, might rise together to a higher spiritual realm. and that she in her solitude might receive at least some assocmte. .I fasted and prayed that so I might reduce this grosser material frame, and sharpen and quicken ever nerve, and stimulate every fibre of the brain. 80 alone could I meet nearly approach to the commune of spirits. Thus had those and prophets of old done when they had entered upon the search after this com~ munion, and shay had received their reward. even the visitation of angels and the vision of the blessed. A prophetâ€"yesâ€"now. in these days, it is left. for ‘he prophet to utter forth his inspira- tion by no other vivay that} thin _of music. __ Before that memorable evening I purified my heart by fasting and prayer. I was like one who was seeking to ascend into heaven to take part in that celestial communion, to join in the new song, the music of the angels. By fasting and prayer I sought to ascend, and to find thoughts and fit utterance for those thoughts. I looked upon my office as similar to that of the holy prophets of old. I felt. that I had a power of utterance if the Divino One would only inspire. So I ptuposed to her to come back and stay with me agmn. She conaepted_at qnce. Mundalcor meum, m3 labia msa, Omnipotens Dbue. qm labm Isuine prophume, oulculo munâ€" dustic 1guito For so Isaiah had been exalted till he heard the language of heaven, the music of the seraphim. She, my divmity, my adored, enshrined again in my house, bore herself as beforeâ€"â€" kind to me and gentle beyond all expression. but with thoughts of her own than placed between us a gulf as wide as that which sep- arates the mortal from the immortal. On that. evening aha was with me in the parlor which looks cub upon the Northwest Arm. The moon shone down there, the dark, rocky hills on the opposite side rose in heavy masses. The servants were away in the city. We were alone. Ah, my Uremona 1 if a. material instruâ€" ment were ever able to utter forth sounds m which immortals might listen, thou best gift of my father, thou canst utter them ! “You are pale,” said she, for she was al- ways kindly and affectionate m; n mether with a child, as a guardian angel with his ward. “You at. xa‘xe. You always forgot yourse] for others, and now you suffer anxiety for me. Do you suffer. I have my consoiahous." I did not make any reply, but took my Cm- mona, and sought to lift up all my soul to a love] with here, to that lofty realm where her spirit ever wandered, that so I might not he comfortless. She started at the first tone that I struck forth, and looked at me with her large, earnest eyes. I found my own gaze fixed on hez’e, rapt and entranced. Now there came at last the inspiration so longed for, so sought for. It came from Where her very soul looked forth into mine, out of the glow of her lustress, spiritual eyes. They grew brighter with an almost immortal radiance, and all my heart rose up till it seemed ready Ito burst in the frenzy of that inspired mo~ mom. Now I felt the spirit of prophesy, I felt the afliatus of the inspired sibyl or seer, and the voice of music which for a. lifetime I had sought to utter forth now at last sounded as I longed that it should sound. I exalted in that scum}. I knew that at last I had caught the tone. and from her. I knew its meaning and exulted, as the poet or the musician must always exuh when some idea sublimer than any which he has ever known is waited ovur his upturned spiritual gaze. She shared my exultation. Them came over her face swiftly, like the lightning flash. an expression of surprise andjoy. So the face of the exile lightens up at the throbbing of his heart, when, in some foreign land, he suddenly and unexpectedly hears the sound of his own language. So his eyes l-ght up, and his heart beats faster, and even amidst the very longing of his soul after home, the desire after that home is appeased by these its most hallowed associmions. And the full meaning of that eloquent gaze of bars as her soul looked into mine became all apparent to me. “ Speak on,” it said ; “ sound on, Oh strains of the language of my home I "Seaboard so long, now heard at last.” I knew that I was comprehended. Now all the feelings of the melancholy mouths came rushing over my heart, and 8.11 the holiest ideas which had animated my life came bhronging into my mind, bursting forth into Manes, as though of their own accord, invol- untarily, as words come forth in a dream. “ Ohvc'hou.” I said. in that language which my owp ljps could not utterâ€"“ oh thou whom {gaved fr-om the tomb, the life to which I restored thee is irksome but there remains a. life to which at last k-hou shalt mmin, “ Oh than,” I said, “whose spirit moves among the immormla, i am mortal yet imâ€" mortal ! My seul seeks commune with them. I yearn after that communion. Life here on es.th is not more dear to me than to thee. Help me to rise above it. Thou hast buen on high, show me too the way. “ Oh thou.” I said, “ who hast een thinga inefiable, impart to me thy confi once. Let me know thy secret. Receive me as the companion of thy soul. Shut not thyself up in solitude. Listen. I can speak thy language. _ ” Attend,” I cried, " for it is not for no’ thing that the Divine One has sent thee back. Live not these mortal days in loneliness and in uselessness. Regard thy fellow-mortals and seek to bless them. Thou has learned the mystery of the highest. Let me he thine interpreter. All that thou hast learned 1 will communicate to man. “ Rise up," I cried, “ to happiness and to labor. Behold I I give thee a purpose in life. Blend thy soul with mine, and let me utter thy thoughts so that men shall bear and Im- derstand. For I know that the highest truth of highest Heaven means nothing more tlmn love. Gather up all thy love. let it flow forth to thy fellowmen. This shall be at once the labor and the consolation of thy life.” Now all this, and much moreâ€"far moreâ€" waa expressed in Ihe tones that flowed frbm my Cremona. It was all my heart. I came forth. It was apprehended by her. I saw it, and I cxulbed. Her eyes dilated more widelyâ€"my words were not unworthy of her hearing. 1 was then able to tell something which could rouse her from her stupor. Oh, Music ! Divine Music! What power thou basis over the soul ! There came over her face an expression which I never saw before; one of peace inefiableâ€" the peace that pusaeth understandâ€" ing. Ah me ! I seemed to draw her to my- self. For she rose and walked toward me. And a. great calm chime over my own soul. My Oremona spoke of peaceâ€"soft, sweet; and deep ; the profound peace that dwelleth in the soul which has its hope in ftution. The tone widened into sweet modulationâ€"- sweet beyond all expression. Shgheld out her hand to me. I caught it in both of maze, anid Wet it with my marsh November 28.-â€"For the last three months I have lived in heaven. She is changed. Music has reconciled her to exile. She has found one who speaks, though weakly, thalangunga oftha: home. Love endures through the ages, but at last triumphs. The chief agent of his triumph is Athena. She represents Wisdom. which, by its life and increase, at 1m dethronee the God of Vengeance and enthrones the God of Love. She was so close that she almost touched me. Her eyes wera stall fixed on mine. Tears were were. but not tears of sorrow. Her face was so close to mine that my strength left me. My arms dropped downward. The music was over. “ Paolo.” said she, m a voice «3f musical tone; “ Paolo, you are already one of us. Yougpeak our language. “ You have taught me something which flows from loveâ€"duty. Yes, We will labor together; and they who live on high wili learn even in their radiant home to envy us poor mortals.” h I said not a word, but knelt ; and holding her hand 53.111, 1 locked up at; her in. grateful adoranion. We hold together through this divine me- dium a. lofty spiritual intercourse. Ilearn from her of that starry world in which for a. brief time she was permitted to dwell. Her seraphio thoughts have become communi- cated to me. lhave made them my own, and all my spirit has risen to a. higher alti- tude. BoI have at last received that revelation for which I longed, and the divine thoughts with which she has inspired me I will make known to the world. How ? Description is inadequate, but it is enough to any that I have decided upon an opera. as the best mode of making known these ideas. My opera is on the theme of Prometheus. It refers to Prometheus Delivered. My idea is derived from her. Prometheus represents Divine Loveâ€"since he is the god who suffers unendumble agonies through his love [or man. Zeus represents the old austere god of the sects and creede~the gloomy God of Vengeanceâ€"the stemâ€"the inexorableâ€"the cruel. For so the world 2096 on ; and thus it shall be that Human Understanding, which I have I hive resorted to one of those classical themes which, though as old as civilization, are yet ever new, becagse theyrarie the truth. personified under Athena, will at last exalt Divine Love over all, and cast. aside its olden adoration of Divine Venpeance. I am trying to give to my opera the severe aimpllciby of the classical form, yet at the same time to prevsde it all with the warm atmosphere of love in ins widest sense. It opens with a chorus of seraphim. Prome. theus laments ; bun the chief pan is that of Athena. 0.21 that I have exhausted myself. But Whers can I get a voxce that can ade- quately render my thoughtsâ€"out thoughts ? Whale is Bice? She alone has this voice; she alone has llm puwezr of catching and ab- sorbing into her own mind the 1deaa which I form ; and. wnh it all, a‘uo alone can express them. Iwoulj “finder over the earth to find her. But perhaps film is in a. luxurious home, where lm assocmms would nun listen to such a proposal. Pamence ! perhaps Dice may at East bring her marvelous voice to my aid. Dwambur 15.â€"Every day our communion has grown more exalted. She breathes upon me the atmosyhere of that radiant world,and fills my soul with rapture. 1 lived in a. sub- lime enthugiusm. We hold intercourse by means of music. We stand upon a higher plane than that of commen men. She has raised me there, and has made me to be a. partaker in her thoughts. - .a- ,n- Now I begin to understanfl something of the radiant world to which she was once for a brief time borne. I know her lost joys ; I share in her louginge. In. me, as in her, there is a deep unquenohable thirst after those glories that. are present there. All here seems poor and moan. No matorial pleasure can for a moment allure. My Cremone is my voice. 16 expresses all things for me. Ah, sweet companion of my Boul’a high: 1 my Guide. my Guardian Angel, my Inspirer I had ever before two monals while on earth 9. lot like ours? Who else heeidos us in ahis life over learned the joys of pure spiritual c-Hmmuuion? We rise on high together. Our souls are home up in com- pany. When we hold commune we cease to he mortals. My Opera. is finished. The radiancy of that Divme Love which has inundated all the being of Edith has bean imputed to me in some meaaum sulficiem to enable me to breathe forth to human ears t/unes which have been caught from immortal voices. She has given me ideas. I havu made them audible and in- telligible to men. I have had one performance of my work, or rather our work, for n all is hers. Hera are the thoughts, mine is} only the pxprggsion: I sought out a place of solitude in which I might perform undxsnurbed and Without in- terruption the theme which I have tried to unfold. Here, as we stood under the moon. I thought hot a. spirit with a mortal lover. I Jecoguized me full meaning of the sublime legend of Muma and Egeria. The mortal us< pires in purity of heart. and the immortal comes down and aesiats and responds to his aspiraniens. Opposite my house is a wild, rocky shore covared with she primeval woods. Here in one place there mats a barren rook, perfectly hum of vendure, which is called Mount Misery. I chose. this place as the spot where I might givu my rehearsal. :;Our souls vibrated in unison to the expres~ man of heaven‘ay thoughts. We threw our-c Mllves intu :he mpvure of the hour. fiWe trembled, we thriilt'd, til at last frail mortal namw could scarcely endure the in- tensity of that perfect joy. So we came {0 the end. The and is a obo- rus of angels. They sing the divinest of songs that is written in Holy Ravelatxon. All the Glory of that song reaches its climax in the last strain : “ And Got}, shall wipe away [L11 tears from their eyes . ,We wept togdher. But we dried out tears and wan home musing on that “ tearlesa eternity ” which lies befora 1m. Morning in: dawning as: I write, and all the feeling of my soul can be expressed in one Word, the sublimeut of all words, which is in teiligible to many of different languages and difl‘erem races. I will end th‘n this : " Alleluia I "' The note which accompanied Lunghéfii’s Journal was as follows : “ HALIFAX. December 18, 1848. “ Theresoula mia Doleiesma,â€"â€"I send you myjourual, sarolla carissimn. I have been silent for a long time. Forgive me. I have been End and in Bflizstion. But affliction has turned to joy. and l have learned things un- known before. -‘ Teresina mils, I am coming back to Eng- land immediately. You may expect to see me at. any timeduring the next three months. She will be with me; but so sensitive is sheâ€"so strange would she be to youâ€" that I do not know whether it will be well for you to see her or not. I dare not let her be exposed to the gaze of any one unknown to her. Yet, sweetest sorellina, perhaps I may be able to tell her that I have a dearest sister, whose heart is love, whose nature is noble. and who could treat- her with tenderest cure. “ I intend to offer my opera to the world at London. I will be my own impresario. Yet I want one thing. and. that is a Voice. Oh for a. Voice like that of Bice ! But it is idle to wish for her. “ Never have I heard any voice like hers. my Teresina. God grant that I may find her! “ I know others who would do as much,” said Despurd, in a voice that seemed full of tears ; “ I know others. who, like him. would go tn the gmve to rescue the one they loved. and make all life one long devotion. I know others,” he continued, “ who would all. dly die, if by thing they could gain what he has wonâ€"the poe- eeneion of the one they love. Ah, me ! Paolo is happy and blessed beyond all men.‘~ Bew tween him and her there is no insuperfible: barrier, no gulf as deep as death.” , ‘x Despard Epoke imp-etueusly, but suddenly‘\_, checked. himself. ‘ " Expect «icon and suidenly to see your most; loving hronher, PAOLO.” Mrs. Thornton showed this note to Des- pard the next time they met. He had read the journal in the meantime. “ So he is coming back ?” “ Yes.” “ And with this marvelous girl ?" “ Yes." “ She seems l0 me like a spirit.” “ And to me.” “ Paolo‘s own nature is so lofty and spirit- ual that one like her is inmlligible to him. Happy is it for her that he found her.” ‘~ I received," said he “by the last mail a letter from my uncle in Halifax. H9 is or- dered off to the Cape of Good Hope. I wrete him a very long time ago. as I told youI ask- ing him to tell me without. reserve all that he knew about my father’s death. I told him plainly that there was a. mystery about it which I was determined to solve. I reproach- ed him for keeping it secret from me, and reminded him than. I was now a. mature man. and that he had no right nor any reason to maintain any further secrecy. I insisted on knowing all, no matter what it might be. am of the earth, earthy ; but my brother is a. spizia imprisoned. who chafes at his bonds and longs to be free. And think what Paolo has done for her in his sublime devotion I" ” I received his letter by the last mail. Here it is; " and he handed it to her. ” Read it when you get home. I have written a. few words to you, little playmate, also. He has told me all. Did you know this before 1’" “ Yes, Lama,” said Mrs. Thornton, with a. look of sorrowful sympmhy. “ You knew all my father’s fate ? ” “ Yes, Lama." “ Ami you kept it secret?” ” Yes, Lama. How could I bear to tell you am! give you pain ? ” Heâ€"r vbice ‘n‘embled as she spoke. Des¢ pard looked at her with an indeeeribable ex- presaicn. “- Paolo is more spiritual than human Helaasrno materialism. He is spiritual. I (To ma: communn.) CHAPTER XXVIII THIS MUST END.