Year: 1878

BLACKMERE HOLLOW.

 I had gone to Buxton one broiling July in search of the picturesque and cool. On the day of my arrival was wandering through one of the beautiful valleys of its vicinity, when passing round sharp turn in ahigh path over looking rushing stream. came with start ling suddenness upon lady who was seated reading upon g. piece of projecting rock. drew back step, raising my hat apologeti- cally. as my foot had brushed against her dress.

 Her slight figure was clothed in black, which brought out in strong contrast the extreme pal Tor of her delicate and beautiful features, and the pale auburn of her luxuriant hair. Her eyes were dark-a deep violet-large, sunken, and profoundly melancholy. A few months previously had been fascinated by Guido's portrait of Beatrice Cenci, which hangs in the Colonna Palace at Rome, and this wonderful picture of an incarnate sorrow had haunted my imagination ever since. It seemed to me that had suddenly fallen upon it's. living resem- blance. The sadness was less awful less de- spairing than that upon the countenance of the hapless Italian, but scarcely less pathetic. It was face with story in it, and a tragic one; a story that might be of the past-and its past, all told, could scarcely have counted twenty years--or of the future; for there are faces upon which God seems to stamp their destiny, upon which Woe casts his shadow in advance. Women far more beautiful had ex- cited in me only passing admiration this stranger fascinated me.

 A faint blush lit up her cheek as she rose, and in a. low, sweet voice acknowledged my apologies. To have fingered would have been obtrusive and ill-bred and yet my feet seemed rooted to the spot, my eyes spellbound. By an effort broke the spell, and passed on.

 That same day discovered, to my amaze ment and delight, that she together with her mother and father, had apartments in the house in which lodged. Her name was Isa- bel Clifford.

 experienced no difficulty in introducing my self to NIT. Clifford he met me half way. The mother was pale, withered woman, a confirm ed invalid, who used to be drawn about in 8 bath ehaiRa She was .tlie slstin of ehronic for which she was trying the Spa waters. Her husband was. startling contrast to this image of decrepitude He was stal- wart man, who stood at least six feet in his boots. His age could not have been much over forty, and his bold handsome face looked even younger but there was furtive insincere ex- precision in his gray eyes that disagreeably i'm His manner was obtrusive, and he dressed showily and elaborately. Altogeth- CT, he was the last person in the world whose acquaintance would have sought under other 

 Two days after my introduction found my self on quite an easy footing in the family, flat tered and caressed by the father and mother with fulsomeness that almost sickened me. Of course, saw through it all, but my infatu- ation rendered me willing victim. The be- havior of Isabel, however, was quite different; she seemed even to shrink from me, as though my presence distressed her, and yet l could feel instinctively that this proceeded from no Perhaps, 1 thought, it is disgust at the too obvious arts of her parents and this supposition greatly raised her in my es- teem.

 One day I was praising the scenery in the in MT. Clifford's presence, when he inquired if had ever seen the Lake coun- try.

 1 had not.

 "This is not to be compared with it," he went on; Il live in one of the most romantic districts. We return home in few days pay us a visit fortnight hence. 1 shall be delight ed to be your cicerone. What say you"

 Of course 1 assented.

 It was on bright August morning started from Windmere for Blackmere Hollow, that being the address given me by Mir. Clifford.

 It was four o'clock in the afternoon when, after ascending for several miles between lofty barren hills, whose stony sides seemed scarcely to afford vegetation sufficient evenfor the sheep that browsed upon them, peculiarly wild landscape suddenly broke upon me. had ar- rived at the summit of the mountains beneath me lay vast hollow, in the bottom of which slumbered the dark waters of a lake ; clusters of fir trees, expanses of purple heather, stretch es of bare rock, and, toward the margin of the mere, patches of bright green meadow, but no sign of human habitation. The day, although ine and warm, was heavy and cloudy; here and there thick mists curled round the summit ,f the hills, and rolled down their precipitous tides single ray of sunlight pierced through ! black cloud above our heads, and made lu- ninous spot upon the darkness of the lake. The effect of the scene was weird and ghastly.

 That is Blackmere Hollow, Sir" said the coachman, pointing with his whip.

 But where is the house P inquired.

 About half mile or 30 below, sir" he re- piled. r..

 The road, steep and narrow, now wound through dark cOpse, from which we emerged upon bare plateau on the left the woods sloped down to the dark, motionless waters, which well merited their title BIGckmere; on the right rose sheer barren precipice three or LOuF lcct HI duO UCuCdL1I facing the dark, mist-crowned hills, which rose on the other side of the lake. gray stone house. about which no atom of vegetation grew.

 That's Mr. Clifford's" said the eoachman.

 had alighted from the chaise at the top of the hill, preferring to trust my own legs rather than those of the horse upon such road, and stood still for a moment, gazing upon the scene. Never had my eyes looked upon a sol l tude so dreary, so sombre, so lifeless. A de- pression almost boding i'll fell upon my spirits

 shivered and passed on to the house.

 received a warm welcome from my host, whom I found at home.

 Bella has gone out for stroll, he said. She will be surprised when she returns and finds you here.

 'Does she not know of my coming ?r in- luired.

 ''No," he replied. ''Now, Mir Raynhanl, am plain, straightforward man" he went on assuming tone of exuberant frankness; I know this visit is not to me. 1 think am not rash when say that my daughter has made an impression upon your heart am not a wealthy man, far from it and he who takes her will have little beyond herself; but that is no small treasure, although say it perhaps that should not. have never met any one should prefer to yourself to whom to trust my denr girls future. believe may venture to say that she looks upon you with no repngnant eye but she is strange creature, and will probably do all in her power tO discourage you. If you really love her, such obstacles