waves seemed dancing to their own music, and the joyous throbs of her heart beat time to their tuneful harmony: for the voices of nature always echo those that are speaking within us.
“Keefe is coming!” was still her cry; “he will soon be here!”
Then starting up, she sought along the beach for a smooth flat stone, such as boys play “ducks and drakes” with—a game she and Denis had often played at Long Arrow.
“Now,” she said, “so many leaps as it takes before it sinks into the water, so many weeks will it be before Keefe comes.”
She sent the stone skimming over the river as she spoke, but the answer of the oracle was destined to oblivion, for at the same instant, Ariel, perhaps terrified at the sight of the water, took sudden flight, and darted down the river. Forgetting her play with destiny, in terror for her favourite, Coral called to him to return, but in vain; the sudden sense of freedom, and love of liberty appeared to be stirring within him, and the voice he had once obeyed had lost its power. But his joy, if joy it was, did not last long. Unused to any but the shortest flights, his feeble flutterings soon showed that his strength was giving way; yet still he made no effort to return to the shore, but frightened and bewildered, struggled farther away, and Coral expected every moment to see him drop into the water, when a canoe suddenly turned a bend in the river, and came into sight; it met poor Ariel as he fell, and he dropped at the feet of the young man who was guiding it. The stranger raised the poor panting little creature, but its sufferings were nearly over, and it gasped out its faint life in his hand. Smoothing its ruffled plumes, and admiring its beauty, the young man looked towards the shore, wondering from whence it had come, and saw the young girl standing on the sand.
“She can’t have it living,” he said, to himself, “but it may please her to have it dead. I remember how Coral used to love her birds.”
And turning his canoe towards the little beach on which Coral stood, he soon paddled it thither; but as he came near, and caught sight of her face, surprise, doubt, and the wildest delight and wonder took possession of him; and as the canoe touched the shore, he jumped out with a wild vehemence which sent it drifting back into the current. Seizing the girl’s hands, which she held eagerly out, he gazed into her face.
“Denis, Denis!” exclaimed Coral.
“Oh, Coral! it is you then, I am not dreaming or mad; here is the river, and yonder is Quebec. I am awake, and in my senses. But to see you here—in that dress, and looking so beautiful! My God, Coral, what has brought you here?”
“Don’t you know? Have you never heard? I am with my father-my own father, and we live in that house that you can see through the trees. But—oh, look at poor Ariel, he is dead!”
“The bird? Yes; it died in my hand, just after he fell into the canoe. But—”
He hesitated, and then went on in a hurried manner:
“Is Keefe with you? Are you married to Keefe?”
“No,” said Coral; and she bent over her dead bird for an instant. Then looking up, she said, more steadily—
“What made you think that, Denis?”
“No matter now,” he said; and his eyes devoured her with a mingled expression of admiration, sadness, and astonishment. How lovely he thought her; her graceful dress, and an air of increased refinement more to be felt than described, adding new charms to a beauty he had always thought unequalled. As he gazed, she seemed a thousand times farther removed from him than ever before, yet he could not help feeling a thrill of joy when he heard that no such impassable barrier as he had feared existed between them; that she was not married to Keefe.
“But how did you come here, Denis?” said Coral.
“I will tell you when you tell me all that has happened to you since I saw you. Sit down here on this stone, and begin.”
“Do you see your canoe floating down the river?” exclaimed Coral.
“Let it go; I can’t think about it now. Dear Coral, tell me what wonders have come to you.”
They sat down beside the river, and Coral told Denis all that had befallen her since he left Long Arrow, her hearer every minute feeling more and more surprise and emotion.
“And are you happy here, Coral?” he asked, when she had done.
“Till an hour before I saw you I was miserable. I was pining for freedom, and the wild woods, and for you and Keefe. But this morning something made me happy. Oh! so happy! I will not tell you what it was just now, but I will by-and-by, and you must share my joy, Denis; you must never leave us again.”
Denis turned away his head and sighed.
“Now let me hear where you have been, and what you have been doing,” continued Coral.
“Coral, I suppose I need not tell you why I went away from Long Arrow. I would not have you know all the wild thoughts that distracted me then for the world. One thing was uppermost—to get away from you and Keefe. Seeing some Indians putting off in their canoes, I asked them to take me with them. I did not care where they were going. I knew they were leaving Long Arrow, and that was enough for me. Since then I have been wandering about with them, hunting and fishing, caring for nothing, wishing for nothing, but for some excitement that might banish memory and thought. At last my mind grew; calmer, better and gentler feelings came, and I longed to hear something about you and Keefe, and about my poor old father and mother. I was weary, too, of the savage life I led, and I determined to return home; but by this time I was so far away that my best way of getting to Long Arrow was through Quebec, but I never dreamt of finding you here.”
“Oh! was it not well I came to the river!” exclaimed Coral; “only for that we might never have met. And only for my poor little birdie. Your canoe would have passed by, and we would not have known each other. Poor little thing, how still he lies. I wonder where that part of