At length he had given up his search in despair, and was in the act of descending, when he heard a soft call from behind him. He turned, and on a higher hill than any of the young villagers had ever been known to climb, stretched out upon its side in calmness sleeping, lay the fair object of his search! On the rock above her, round which the dew of evening had gathered the thickest, he beheld standing, apparently to keep watch upon the child’s slumbers, a full-grown female figure. This form, reflected against the sky, appeared rather the undefined lineaments of a spirit than a mortal, for her person seemed as light and almost as transparent as the thin cloud of mist that surrounded her. The smoky light of the setting sun gave a hazy, dubious, and as it were, phantom-like appearance to the strange apparition. He had scarcely time, however, to note this, ere she vanished from his view, so suddenly and mysteriously, that he could hardly distinguish whether he had been subjected to a mere illusion of the senses, or whether he had actually seen the aereal figure we have described. Yet he could in no other wise account for the voice he had heard, except by ascribing it to the same vague form, for the child was evidently in too deep a sleep to have uttered any sound. Doubtful what to believe in regard to this phantom-image, and in that perplexed state natural to one not willing to believe that his sight had deceived him, ere he yielded himself up to the joy of recovering Jessy Ellet, whom he loved with the depth and sentiment of more mature age, he hastily climbed to the spot where it had appeared. There was no trace, however, of the vision to be seen. It had melted again into that air from which it had seemed embodied. Immediately descending again, he lifted the slumbering child, whom he had found at last, and imprinting a kiss upon her face, proceeded to bear her down the hill. On reaching the valley, he found the rest of the party collected in the grove, after an unsuccessful search, in great anxiety awaiting his return. CHAPTER IX. Night wanes—the vapours round the mountain curled Melt into morn, and light awakes the world. Man has another day to swell the past, And lead him near to little but his last. BYRON’S LARA. The double night of ages, and of her, Night’s daughter, Ignorance, hath wrapt and wraps All round us; we but feel our way to err! CHILDE HAROLD’S PILGRIMAGE.