g around him, his eyes would
kindle, and a placid, but peculiar smile would play about his thin lips,
indicating that pleasant thoughts were in his mind; but whether of past
scenes or only of future imaginary joys none could tell. And oftentimes
this smile would suddenly vanish as you gazed upon him, and a dark cloud
would settle over his countenance. His brow would become contracted, his
lips compressed, and the expression of his eyes sad and gloomy. Then, as
if to seek solace, or a diversion of his thoughts, he would take up a
book and wander off into some secluded spot and read and meditate,
occasionally noting down with his pencil certain sentences from what he
read, or recording certain ideas suggested thereby.

But there was one being on whom Daniel Kelford looked without his usual
indifference, and for whom he felt a pure and lasting affection. This
was Elinor Manvers, the daughter of one of the wealthier class of
farmers, who resided about four miles from Mr. Kelford's. Elinor was
sixteen years old, and as beautiful as the hour is that visit the
Mussulman's dreams. Her sylph-like form, the classic regularity of her
well-defined features, her large and languishing dark eyes, all bespoke
a mind deeply imbued with the _spirituel_; but still she was a
true-hearted woman, a sprightly and merry mountain lass. She loved to
pour forth her wild gay songs, and hear the echoes of her
finely-modulated voice among the tall cliffs of the mountains. Her step
was as free and agile as that of the untamed deer; and to all except
Daniel Kelford she was a lively companion, and could ring forth her
clear laugh with all the free exuberance of feeling to which her nature
seemed inclined; but when with him she was conscious of a mysterious and
undefined awe settling upon her mind, and depriving her of the power of
appearing gay and frolicsome. Her true nature was as yet undeveloped and
unknown even to herself, and the influence which Daniel exerted over
her, and was destined to exert, was the mould by which her soul was to
be formed. There was something repulsive and yet attractive about him,
and though she shrank from him, she could not deny to herself that she
loved him, and the consciousness of her love was mingled with both pain
and pleasure. Her feelings towards him were of two kinds, directly
opposite to each other, and yet so mingling together that she could not
entertain the one without admitting the other. She shuddered when sh