"I will ask my uncle," said Marion, trembling with agitation.
"You must ask no one, and nothing"—interrupted the little negro, her harsh voice growing yet harsher as she raised it—"but your own true heart: unless there be love enough to lead you on, your lover will remain bound by the spells of the sorceress for ever."
The thought past rapidly through Marion's mind, that if she could but see Edward, old love must revive, even if he had deserted her for another. Led on by some strange fascination, she followed the little negro woman. They came to the river side, where a small boat was moored, and when her companion was seated, took up the oars and began rowing with great quickness down the river. They stopped at a small flight of wooden steps, and an almost worn-out door admitted them into a large, but desolate-looking garden; another door, but that huge and massy, admitted them into a dark and winding passage. Marion shuddered as the little negro caught her hand to lead her forward; she followed her for some distance, when the sudden opening of another door dazzled her eyes with a blaze of light. They had entered a magnificent chamber, fitted up in the utmost oriental luxury for a sleeping-room. Marion was scarcely allowed time to look around, for her dwarfish companion whispered in a low tone, like the hissing of a serpent, "Open that gold box, and take out the lock of hair you see there; it is your lover’s." Well did the forsaken girl recollect the sunny hair; she pressed it to her lips, while her fast-falling tears dimmed its lustre.
"Come, come, I will show him to you," exclaimed the little negro woman, again hurrying her on; "if you still love him, when you see him, throw that charmed lock of hair into the fountain of fire by which we shall be standing, and the spell that binds him will be broken."
Marion had not power to speak, but she followed the dwarfish creature with a heart beating louder than her steps. Again her eyes closed in the presence of sudden splendour, they were standing behind the fountain of mingled fire and water; from thence they could see without being seen. In the centre of that gorgeous hall, a lady was seated on a mattress covered with cloth of gold, and Edward was at her feet. They had eyes but for each other, and her one hand was in his, while the other was twisted in his bright hair.
"Now girl," hissed the same whisper, "fling the lock you hold in the fire."
Marion almost mechanically obeyed; she flung it, and a burst of thunder shook the building—the little fountain grew crimson, as if with blood; but one heart-piercing shriek rang above every other sound—it came from the dark lady.
"Hast thou found me, oh my enemy?" said she in the same low, sweet voice; but which now seemed the very echo of a broken heart.
"Aye," cried the little negro woman, "the dark spell has the mastery."
At this moment Marion rushed forward; she had seen Edward sink back convulsed on the couch—she threw herself on her knees beside, and supported his head—the dews of death were upon it. The tall and stately lady stood by, paler than marble, and even her bright lips colour less. Still her radiant eyes flashed defiance on the negro dwarf; but the heart's agony was in the compressed mouth, and with tears in those
