I was
looking down, as I said, when suddenly, among those low evergreens, the
brilliant hue of a silken mantle caught my eye, and then a woman's brow
gleamed up upon me. Yes, there in that dark cradle, calmly sleeping, all
flashing with gold and jewels, like some bright vision of olden time,
methought there lay--a lady,--a girl, young and lovely as a dream;--the
white plume in her bonnet soiled and broken, and the long bright hair
streaming heavily on her mantle,--and yet with all its loveliness, such
a face of utter sorrow saw I never. I _saw_ her, I saw her, as I see you
now,--the proud young form with such a depth of grace, in its strange
repose, and--where are you going?--what are you doing, Maitland?
_Mait_. Helen Grey!--
_Mor_. You are right. I did not mark that break--yes--there she lies.
Said I right, Maitland?
_Mait_. Helen Grey!--
_Mor_. Maitland! Heavens!--what a world of anguish that tone
reveals!--Why do you stand gazing on that lovely sleeper thus?
_Mait_. Bring water. There's a cup at yonder spring. Here has been
treachery! Devils and fiends have been working here against me. We must
unclasp this mantle.
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