st imaginative order,
deeply imbued with lofty, poetic sentiment, and a tendency to reserve and
melancholy. His father had been an artist, and the sunny skies of Italy
cast their bright glory over his tender years, warming to impassioned
ardor the springs and fountains of his youthful bosom. Very few boys of
his age and acquirements could have endured the seclusion in which he had
dwelt for the last six months; but nothing could have been more consonant
with the reserved, romantic disposition of Edgar; and the prospect of
leaving the wild hut in the forest to go forth among the wide world's
jostling crowds, caused him heart-throbbing pangs.

After a long silence the hermit roused himself. The room was cold and
dark.

"Edgar?" said he, in a low, broken voice.

"I am here," answered the youth, rising, and feeling his way through the
darkness to his uncle's side, "Won't you lie down now? The room is so
cold, and there is no wood within to replenish the fire."

"Yes, my boy, I will lie down," said the hermit, "but not to sleep; the
ghosts of past joys are with me to-night."

"Drive them away, uncle!" said the lad soothingly. "I am not disposed to
sleep either. Let us lie down and cover us warm, and then you tell me of
your plans and projects for my future, as you had commenced to do a few
hours ago."

"No, Edgar, not to-night," answered the recluse. "Your young eyes will
wax heavy with these midnight vigils. You must sleep, my boy, and
to-morrow I will communicate my plans concerning you."

"As you say, uncle," returned Edgar, preparing to lie down.

Young, and happily ignorant of the cares and sorrows that distract the
bosoms of maturer years, he was soon asleep.

The hermit moved to the window, and, after gazing forth some time in
silence, murmured, "Wild, wild is the night! Heaven send she does not
suffer. I left two bundles on her lonely sill, though my fingers grew
stiff with cold ere I had gathered them. Thus do I feebly endeavor to
atone for past misconduct. How the wind roars through the pines! O, what
memories of long ago rush o'er my soul! I think of Mary as the time
approaches when she will be near me. Shall I see her face again? God
forbid!" exclaimed he, stamping his foot violently upon the stone floor.
After a while he resumed his low soliloquy. "I fear for Edgar," he said,
"lest the cold world chill his heart and undo his usefulness, as it has
mine. He has my temperament, reserved, sensitive, and wi