Tremulously, between my fingers, unnoticed by others, I took the stray ringlet, and whispered in her ears— "A strange story, that of my cousin’s, Lady Louisa." "And the lock of hair! such a terrible idea!" said she, shuddering, while her white shoulders and brilliants shone in the light together. "Does it terrify you?" "More than it gratifies me." "As the chances are that I may be killed and buried in the East, will—will you give me _this_ to lie in the trenches with me?" said I, curling the soft ringlet round my finger, with mock gallantry, while my heart beat wildly with hope and expectation. She turned her dark, full eyes to mine, with an expression of mingled surprise and sweetness. "Take it _now_, Mr. Norcliff, for heaven’s sake, rather than come for it, as William Calderwood came," said the sprightly Miss Wilford, taking a pair of scissors from a gueridon table that stood close by; and ere Lady Loftus could speak, the dark ringlet was cut off, and consigned to my pocket-book, while my lips trembled as I whispered my thanks, and laughingly said— "What says Pope? ’The meeting points the sacred hair dissever, From the fair head for ever, and for ever.’" "This is all very well, Mr. Norcliff," said she, laughing behind her fan; "but I cannot submit to be shorn in jest, and shall insist on having that lock of hair from you to-morrow." She had a lovely smile in her dark eyes, and a half-pout on her beautiful lip; but Cora—I know not why—looked on me sadly, and shook her pretty head with an air of warning, that seemed as much as to say I had erred in my gallantry, if not in my generalship. That night my heart beat happily; I went to sleep with that jetty tress beneath my pillow; thus, for me, Cousin Cora had not in vain told her quaint old legend of "The Clenched Hand." *CHAPTER X.* I loved—yes. Ah, let me tell The fatal charms by which I fell! Her form the tam’risk’s waving shoot, Her breast the cocoa’s youngling fruit. Her eyes were jetty, jet her hair, O’ershadowing face like lotus fair; Her lips were rubies, guarding flowers Of jasmine, dimned with vernal showers. STONE TALK. The next day was to see a crisis in my fate which I could not have anticipated, combined with the narrow escape from mutilation or death of more than one of our pleasant party assembled at the Glen. With all the intensity of my soul, I wished to learn my chances of success with the brilliant Lady Louisa, yet trembled to make the essay. Why, or how was this?