My Library

any evasion of it. The possession of genius is a certificate of perpetual suffering. “You now know why I am sad, O girl of the good heart. I am weak to-night; to-morrow will bring strength again. But, see! the golden sun is setting in the west. Alas! I fear that my sun is setting also for a long, long night of wretchedness.” “You speak well, man of the sore spirit,” replied the girl. “You speak well when you say the sun is setting; but you seem to forget that it will rise again, and shine as brightly as he does to-day! He will shine even though dark clouds hide him from us; and though you and I may not behold his glories, some one else will see his face, and feel his blessed heat. Old men tell us that the darkest hour is just before the break of day. I bid you take heart. You may be happy yet!” “The precise formula of the Mysterious Brotherhood!—the very words uttered by the dead mother who bore me! How did this girl obtain it? When? Where? From whom?” Beverly started, gazed into the mighty depths of her eye, was about to ask the questions suggested, but forbore. “We may all be happy yet,” said she; “for the Great Spirit tells me so!” And she crossed her hands upon her virgin breast—breast glowing with immortal fervor and inspiration; and she threw, by a toss of the head, her long, black sea