slowly with face turned towards him. Her
yellow hair, bound with a fillet about her forehead, fell loose upon her
shoulders; there was the light of love in her eyes and a sweet smile
irradiated her lips. Her white hands hung at her sides, and from under
the hem of her flowing garb, a tiny, snowy foot appeared barely touching
the surface of the water.

What was it--a phantom or a reality? A mockery of the vapor and the
night, or a spirit of God truly walking over the waters? We cannot say,
or rather we shall not stop to inquire. Enough that the poor old hermit
saw it, and seeing, was transported into ecstacy. His whole being
appeared transfused into the ethereal vision which shone before him. The
gross outlines of old age and shabby costume were melted into the
beautiful forms of exultation and reverence. Under the misty moon, under
the faint light of the stars, he fell upon his knees, stretched out his
arms, and his face turned eagerly upwards in the absorption of prayer.

"Once more, O Clara! Once more, O my daughter! It is long since I have
seen you, and my days have passed sadly in the lonesomeness of solitude.
You come once more to smile upon your old father, and bring a blessing
upon your orphan child. She sleeps sweetly yonder near the hearth.
Protect her from the harm which I know must be impending and of which
your visitation is the warning. You are the guardian angel of my cabin,
shielding it from all the dangers which have threatened it these many
years. Give me a sign of your assistance and I shall be content."

These were the words the old man uttered as he knelt upon the wet rocks.
Let no one smile as he reads them, for even the ravings of a diseased
brain are beautiful when they have a spiritual significance.

Batoche rose and advanced nearer, with arms still outstretched, as if he
would clasp the Spirit of the Waterfall, and seize the token which he
implored. But in this he was disappointed.

Not a word her lips did utter, and without a start or flutter,
She crossed her hands upon her bosom in the attitude of prayer;
And his stricken soul beguiling with the sweetness of her smiling,
Raised her bright eyes up to heaven, and slowly melted into air.

A thick bank of cloud floated in the sky, veiling the moon. The stars
paled, and it was very dark. The great Falls thundered with a sullen
roar. The wind beat against the forest trees with a moan. The hermit
knelt once more and engaged