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2 “ All counted,” said Margaret, just on the point of bursting out again. “ Well ?” asked Xavier, who, leaning upon his knees slightly raised his head to look into he r face. “ Well!” repeated the young girl, who crossed her hands, then let them fall be fore her, and looked up with her bright, merry glance into the dejected face of the old man. “ But do you not think there is a fine difference in your ages? Eh?” Margaret was in no condition to an swer—she laughed until she had to sup port herself. The first and most obstrepo rous outburst over, Xavier ventured a protest, without gaining any advantage. “Plague upon the rattle-brain !” cried he, “there is no use to talk sense to her!” “No use to laugh with you,” replied Margaret. Then, becoming suddenly serious, “ see, grandpapa, Pm not laugh ing now.” “ And why did you laugh so much ?” “ Evidently because you said some thing so absurd.” “What? What did I say? that between you and Luc there was such dis parity of age ?” “Yes.” “Is it this that seemed droll to you ?” “Exactly.” “You do not agree with ine “No—l do not.” “Thirty years!” “Well, thirty years ? If it were fifty years, what matter, provided there be a good understanding on each side! that is the first condition, is not so ?” “I do not say—but—yet— “ Yet what ?” asked Margaret with an air of importance, for the spoilt girl could as well afford an air of pique as she could that of innocent railery. Then she add ed, in a more sportive manner : Stop, grandpapa—do you know what to do ? go talk to Luc about it.” “To Luc V ’ “Yes, to Luc! and you will see— “ What will I see ?” “That you will soon be sA right—that ail difficulties will soon be removed.” “Do you think so ?” said the grand lather, perfectly astounded. “I fam sure of it,” replied Margaret most seriously. And as Xavier still seemed stupified, she continued : “Yes go and speak of it to him. I will say nothing more.” And she moved as if to go out. Xavier called her back < ! promise me, then, that you will not speak to him.” “Yes, I willingly promise that.” And she went out with the same grave expression. » * XIII, WE A T DID I TEL L YO U? After remaining a moment or two as if bewildered by the thousand and one thoughts that rushed through his mind as the result of the singular conversation he had just had ; Xavier mechanically opened the window and leaned out as though he tried in some way to relieve himself of the feeling of oppression he labored under. llis glance fell upon Jean Marie, who, strutting about with a self-sufficient air, had just turned into one of the little by paths that ran round the side of the vine yard at the foot of the hill. Xavier quickly went down stairs, walked out of the Mill, and, at once, joined Jean Marie, who, seeing him ap proach, drew himself up in the most con sequential manner to meet him. Some moments later, when he had learned, even to the minutest detail, all that had passed between the Master and the Mill-boy—between the grandfather and the grandchild—Jean Marie pomp ously exclaimed, “Lhbien! Pore Coudret what did I tell you?” i hen he resumed, in a soft, insinuating voice, punctuating his sentences, slowly and methodically marking time by tap ping upon Xavier’s arm with his first finger. “From all that, my good Perc (loudret, what are you to conclude, but that Jean Marie can see through a mill stone, when lie pleases to take the trouble to do so? I think you have the upper-hand with them at all events; their compact is at an end, no matter how soundly Luc may be sleeping now, laughing as lie does in his sleeve, at all that you may say or do. When you ask him to go away for a day or two, he says, “go speak to the little one about it/ ? because lie knows very well she can manage you, and that she will refuse to consent to this separation. On his part, he refers you to her when you wish to argue with him on the pro priety ot their plan. She has learned her lesson well. At first, when you ap peared to favor their scheme, didn’t you notice that she seemed glad, and listened earnestly to you, and that she answered you in the same mariner V* That is true, ’ said Xavier, much as tonished, the simple-hearted old man not observing that Jean Marie was merely enlarging on the information he had ex. tracted from him. But the very instant that you raisec any obstacle, she began to laugh, did she not ?” “ Ah ! that she did,” cried Xavier. “ I knew it ! just as she always did, when you would try to reason with her on the subject. She knows her part—it has been well marked out for her. He knew well, the cunning creature, that in advising her to laugh when you woulc speak with her, that you would always be outwitted. He has told her, “Laugh always—laugh anyhow,” and she does it. What will you have ? the poor little thing is caught—she is taken in the trap, anc does well wnat she is told to do. Then he says, also, “ When you arc hare pressed, send him to me.” And he waits for you defiantly. He thinks that from the very moment you come to discuss the affair with him, it is one step gained ; for that seems a kind of tacit admission that it admits discussion, and that he will have nothing more to do than make you feci tqe strength of his arguments. These arguments, who knows them, who can lmow them hut he ? Although he has such a dull, stupid look, he can plan the deepest intrigues, lie is waiting for you. And will you take my advice ? Here it is cut and dry. If you foolishly center upon any discussion on the subject, it will be all over with you, to your great dis comfiture, You will find yourself twisted and turned, and finally compelled to agree to everything. 11 is plans are cunningly formed. He has taken his time and it is not without *orne deep motive, that he spoke with so much unconcern and famil iarity. “ The fact is,” here poor old Xavier )egan to make some remark, but Pere Mi trie went on, not wishing to give up his larangue —particularly as he d r ew near lis peroration. “ Then, Pere Ooudret, if you mind what I say, you will he most cautious how you open your lips to him on one word relative to the subject under discussion; and you must remomber, if you approach it ever so distantly, to steer clear of your real motives and intentions—otherwise, you will be tricked, and well tricked at that. In two words I will tell you, Jean Ooudret, you have a most dangerous man in your house!” Xavier tried to exclaim, thinking the expression, perhaps, too strong. “ Yes, I maintain what I say,” quickly replied Jean Marie, ‘ a dangerous mau —a perfect pest /* ” The old man slightly shrugged his shoulders with a look of passive asseut, ' (to be Continued.) j [Selected for the Banner of the South.] TALLULAH: A LEGEND OF CHEROKEE. Long years ago, an Indian maiden dwelt in her father’s wigwam, near the source of a small stream, in Cherokee. The dark fountain gushed forth from a precipitous rock, above which towered gloomily the mountain of doom. The sparkling stream went on its way, re joicing in the verdure of its banks, in the gurgling of its sweet sounds; and, like good, extracted from evil, or, like honey, extracted from the bittersweet of life, it seemed the only joyous companion of the Indian maid. She sung'to it when sad, and her voice sounded like the murmuring of gentle waters. She invoked the spirit of the stream upon its banks, when tilled with the inspiration of the Indian faith. She wandered on its banks with the quiver and bow, till the mid-day sun turned her stops again towards the dark fountain, the gloomy mountain, and the stern, but oving eye of her Indian sire. Taliu’s figure was fine and symmetrical. Grace and dignity united in every movement. In her step, there was often a haughty air, as if she felt conscious of superiority ; and, when accompanied with a bending of the head backward, and a listening attitude, it was a sign of her abstracted mood. Now, she stood on the bank of the stream, with one sandalled foot on the edge of the light canoe, the other on the bank. Her long hair hung in glossy olaits. interwoven with wild flowers from the mountain side ; and her robe of dark blue cashmere, with its deep red border, contrasted well with the clear brunette, and the peach-bloom color of her rich complexion. She rested her slight paddle on the shore, and her black eyes were fixed on the setting sun, sinking in gorgeous light behind the mountain of doom. She thinks—yes, the Indian maiden thinks, that he is going to the spirit-land, to shine upon the hunting-grounds of the red men, given them by the Great Spirit; and, in a softly murmuring voice, she bids her mother awake from her bed of fra grant leaves in that far-off land; to come C 5 ' “Let the Night-Bird rest, in the deep shadows of the mountain forest, anc watch over the grave of the Spottec Fawn.” The Indian passed his hand across his brow, as if some gentle chord was touch ed, and answered : “We will carry the Spotted Fawn to the new burying place, over the big river, and there it will rest, till we meet in the eternal hunting-grounds of the Great Spirit.” The maiden drooped her head again upon her hands, and murmured a low song to Cherokee, which sounded as if it was a death-song of hope to her spirit : “O, Mother-Bird, come, To the Night-Bird’s home, And make her nest soft, in sweet Cherokee! Let her not roam, On the big river’s foam, But let her rest here, in We Aid vfoods, with thee. “The mountain of doom Is the Mother-Bird’s home; She loved the mountain of sweet Cherokee I Take the Night-Bird to rest, With thee in thy nest; O, let her lie down, in thy soft bed with thee! “O, let her not leave thee, Or ever forsake thee, For the white man to roam o’er thee, my sweet Cherokee! Thy waters so bright, With their deep, lovely light, Must encircle her form, while she slumbers with thee!’* # # * * The council fire burnt bright in the vale of Nacoochee, and, seated around, were the chiefs of Cherokee. The crackling tire sent up in volumes its ever-renewing light, and reflected its red glare on faces earnest, thoughtful, and severe. At the base of the semi-circular group rose an Indian mound of more than ordi nary magnitude; and, on the top of it, was a small tent, of cone-like form. The red, blue, and white cover, denoted it the tent of the Princess Tallu ; for the head Chieftain’s daughter bore that title, and had some influence in all their councils. At present, she sat on a buffalo robe, spread upon the ground before the tent. Her dress was deep red, with a blue border, worked in figures with white beads. Ilcr sandals were also brilliant with the same materials; and her black hair, hanging loosely round her, ornament ed also with beads, looked as if sprinkled with light, in the glaring reflection of the council fire. The Bounding Deer rose from the seat of honor (for lie was first among the Chiefs), and, standing out in the light, showed his athletic form, his noble brow, his eagle eye. But time had told its tale on all. His form was slightly bent, as if acknowledg ing to earth a tribute; his noble brow was marked with thought; bis eagle eye was softened, as if sorrow’s sad wings had also brooded there. Lofty feeling, how ever, animated them now, as he extended his strong arm up towards the heavens. “Red men !” he said, “Warriors of Cherokee ! What does the Great Spirit whisper in your hearts ? The pale faces come from the rising sun, and the morning light shines bright upon their path. They forth, from her wigwam of soft doe-skins, and look at the light, now sinking away from the eyes of her sad Night-Bird. “What does my pretty Night- Bird, dream of now ?” said a tall, majestic Indian, laying his hand gently on the maiden’s shoulder. She shrunk not from the touch, or drew her gaze from the western light, the last gleam of which was now fading into the mellow twilight hour; but she said in a low, firm tone: “I see her in the dream land, and she says to me, again, * Come to the bright waters ! come to the bright waters !’ ” And she stepped into the light bark, with a mysterious, dreamy spirit on her brow. The Indian placed his hand upon her arm, and said: “Princess Tallu, the Great Spirit says, not till three moons have come and gone; wait, and then my Night-Bird shall fly away over the big river.” She took her seat beside him on the bank, and there tsey talked, sire and maiden, till long shadows fell across the stream. The mountain of doom was defined, towering and black against the western sky, and yet the murmur of their voices fell upon the car. Tallu’s bare arms were folded on her knees ; and her beautiful head rested on them—the mute image of despair. The tall Indian stood by her side, and, pointing to the west, said : “Yes, over the big river, the Night-Bird must go, with the Bounding-Deer. The white man comes from the rising sun ; and the red-man must follow the long shadows, till he finds the hunting-grounds of the Great-Spirit.” The maiden raised her head, and said : come over the big waters, and they cover the savannas of the low country, like the locusts cover the trees in the summer time. They come up to the roosting place of the Chcrokees, and they say in our ears, ‘Move over the big rivers—go to big country.’ Ked men! warriors of Cherokee! what does the Great Spirit whisper in your hearts?” “Let us light the pipe of peace,” said the Bald Eagle, with the white lock of Winter on his head, “and open our ears to the voice of our White Father.” “Our White Father is worse than a tiger,” said a young Warrior, springing from his seat; “he lays in wait for the blood of his friends; lie scents his prey to the mountain lop, and in the deep caverns of the waterfalls iie hunts him out ! What does the pale face want with the mountains of Cherokee ?” “Can’t the white man make corn in the vale of Nacoochee to feed their papooses on?” said Wild Cat (of the Creek Nation, who had come to visit the Chcrokees in their Council), in a tone of irony. “The eyes of the white man can see like the hawk’s eyes, and his heart follows his eyes to the hunting grounds, and the corn fields of Cherokee. Will the Eagle give his nest to the greedy Hawk ? “Listen to the Warrior of the Creeks,” said the young Warrior, “and let the Bounding Deer and the Bald Eagle tell the White Father, we will keep our home in tiie mountains of Cherokee.” “Listen to the Great Spirit,” said the Bounding Deer; “He calls us toward the setting sun, where the prairies and the hunting grounds are waiting for the red men.” “Ugh !” said the Creek Warrior, with a sneer; “the pale faces whisper soft wind in the Cherokee’s ear, and make him sleep like a white woman.” “\Vah!” said the Bounding Deer, springing towards him, and seizing the belt which held his tomahawk and knife; the Wild Cat sneaks on his prey in the low grounds, and liis heart is muddy. His tongue is crooked, like the crooked river”—and he pushed him from them with such force that he tottered and fell backward. The pipe had not yet been lit, so that this was no breach of Indian hospitality. Excitement ruled the Council— the young Warriors, and all, venting their different opinions in muttered sounds, while the Bounding Deer stood in their midst, like the rock in the midst of the storm, calm and unimpressible. Princess Tallu stood upon her buffalo robe, her majestic form thrown forward, and her arms extended towards the Council. “Listen, red men ! braves of Cherokee! Listen to the Great Spirit. He whispers to the Night-Bird in the sighing winds of evening ; and he speaks to her heart in the bright clouds of day. lie has brought the pale faces to the foot of our mountains, and to the opening of the deep valleys, and he says to them, ‘Go up higher.’ Listen, braves of Cherokee! You must take up the bones of your fathers, and travel towards the setting sun. A White Fox has crept into the Council of the braves, and he wears the skin of the big Warrior of the Creeks. Let him rest at the feet of Tallu, and learn a spirit lesson from the braves of Cherokee.” The Council fire sent up its freshly re newed light into the clear air; and the calumet was smoked around by the now silent braves of Cherokee. Princess Tallu reclined upon her buf falo robe, leaning against a pole of the brightly striped tent, while half way down the mound, sat the White Fox, in die borrowed semblance ol Wild Cat, the iig Warrior of the Creek Nation. The shadows of a moonless night rested on the mountain of doom, and the vapors lung upon the low grounds, looking like dark and turbid waters. The gigantic Spirit who was said to pre side over it, seemed to preside over it with a jealous and watchful eye. In deed, the thunders of his wrath were ever ready to be hurled upon those who dared to ascend to the heights consecrated to lis presence. So said Indian tradition ; and the testimonies of all, who had ven tured to do so, proved that the elements, at any rate, were in league against thoss who braved the ascent to the summit of the mountain of doom. There, impressed upon trie rocks, are visible footprints of some mysterious aeing, as if some great spiritual agent, compelled to leave a token of his presence to man, chose to place his step upon this indestructible summit, surrounded by the thunderbolts and the wrath of Heaven. There, time after time, day after day, the vapors gathered around that veiled head. There the thick mists rested, and the thunder and lightning spent their fury ; yet the footprints remained there, unchanged and entire, surrounded with signs of the invisible and mysterious past. Three dusky looking forms, in Indian file, wound their way above the rock which overlooks the dark fountain; an,] ascending still in silence, they reached th.. first level of the mountain of doom. The next ascent towards the lowering summit, commenced in jutting rock? which, in some places, extended quite out, leaving a sheltered space below. Under one of these, was a solitary grave, to which the three advanced i n silence. The Bounding Deer lit a tore which he stuck in a crevice of the rock. ;1 1 bru its flickering light over the sad t\.qj no . place of the Spotted Fawn. Tl, n r j ei ] leaves, borne by the shifting wind, massed backwards and forwards over the rreen mossy grave, as loth to leave the sacred spot; and, hung in a crevice of the rock overhead, was a fawn’s skin, soft and spotted, renewing ever in time the memory and name of her who had de parted to the land of spirits. Tallu was there; but how changed, from the gaily dressed Princess, in the Council of the Chiefs! Now, she was pale, though stately, nay, even haughty, in her determined silence. Her long, black hair, hung unadorned around her, excepting with the native majesty of her eyes and brow, which beamed forth like gems from the centre of a rich setting of jet. Her form was shrouded with a mantle, covered entirely with the soft feathers of the night bird; and nothing exceeded the loveliness of the long tapering fingers, clasped around one knee, as she sat at the head of the grave. Her beautiful face was upturned towards the soft skin of the spotted fawn which hung above her. “What does the Great Spirit whisper to the heart of the Night Bird ?” said the Bounding Deer. “The Great Spirit says that the White Fox has come to steal the wigwam of the Indian brave, and to clip the wings of the Night Bird. The Night Bird hovers around the grave of her mother ; and the White Fox watches her like a coward, when only the Great Spirit is near. The Night Bird sees him with the eye of her spirit; and his face is pale , under the yellow die of the acorn juice.” The White Fox stood, with his arms crossed on his breast, leaning - against a corner of the projecting rock. “les,” lie said, “I am a pale face, hut not come to steal the wigwam of the In dian brave, or to clip the wings of the beautiful Night Bird Let the Night Bird look at the tips of her tapering fingers, and say if the snow has not been melted in the fountain, why the red blood shows so plainly, through the clear sur face ? Did the White Dove of the low lands never fly to the rocks of Cherokee for shelter ?” Tallu unclasped not her hands from her knee, or allowed her eyes to turn down ward to their beautiful tips; but turned them to the Bounding IX-er, with an earnest and inquiring gaze, as if com manding an explanation. “The Great Spirit opens wide the heart of the Bounding Deer,” he said, “and lays it at the feet of his little one. The Bounding Deer hunted on the banks es the great Tallulah, when he w T as young and strong enough to hold the big bow of his father, and to climb the rocks of the deep fall. In the roar of the big tempest, a young fawn moaned, and a shrill cry of anguish reached the heart of the Bounding Deer. From rock to rock he leaped, till, low down on a ledge, there lay the fawn, and a young girl, cast like a snow flake from the mountain top, lifeless, with her head resting on the spotted fawn. As ho said this, he raised his firmer, find pointed to the symbol of his love, and looked as if he were calling once more from the past the spirit of the pure one, who lay beneath the green moss and the dried leaves. “les, ’ he continued, “the Bounding Deer took her to his heart and his wig wam. She listened to the love* soim of the Indian hunter, and whispered in his ear the mournful story of her wrong" She stained her skin with the brown juice of the acorn, and worshipped the Great Spirit of the Indian hunter. Sir.* is waiting now, in the Eternal hunting grounds, to hear the step of the Bounding Deer, and the sweet voice of her little one, the gentle Night Bird.’’ The Indian hunter’s arm fell to hi" side. Ilis chin rested on his breast; and in his mute and passive attitude, he seemed as il only waiting the development of the present scene to take his departure to those eternal hunting grounds of hi" spiritual faith. I aliu s head rested on her knee, as it did once before, in the fading twilight, on the bank of the little stream ; and as the unfolding of her destiny pressed itself upon.her prophetic spirit, she drew the shelter of the night-bird’s plumage more closely around her, as if she was willing to