disclosed her latent passion, and took the outcast to her heart. Was not this love deep, enduring, ingenuous love?—and Cæsar Blake's determination was instantly formed to start without delay for Stainsbury.

Thus resolving, he had insensibly wandered through the shrubbery, and following a by-path, found himself in a coppice which overhung a small lake, some distance from the hall. Flinging himself upon a fallen tree, he perused again the letter of his artless and devoted mistress. 'I shall not waste

an hour," he said aloud, conscious that in this remote place none could overhear his soliloquy." "Yes, Ellen, quick as winds and distance will admit, I will prove how securely you have placed your love, and how fond and ardent its return shall be." He pressed the letter to his lips-replaced it carefully in his bosom-rose and commenced preparations for an immediate departure, when a deep sigh startled him. Hastily he looked round, and Harriette Kirwan stood beside him.

Wild, reckless, and impetuous, she watched from her window the direction he had taken when he left the house. Maddened by jealousy-agitated by the tempest of her passions, without any definite object to direct her, she determined to risk an interview. She quickly followed him, while, unconscious that he was observed, my father took the very path which, above all others, he should have shunned.

Her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes alarmed him; her bonnet was carelessly thrown back, and her magnificent dark, hair escaping overspread her neck and shoulders.

"Gracious God!" exclaimed my father, "has anything alarmed you, Harriette ?" She was silent for some time, till, bursting into a passionate flood of tears, she sobbed hysterically. Her astonished companion seated her on the fallen oak, and placed himself beside her. "Harriette, for Heaven's sake, compose yourself; what has occurred?" Still no reply."Dear Harriette, can I assist, can I relieve you?" No answer yet. Speak to me tell me what distresses you-you know, Harriette, I have no cousin I love so well as you." "And do you love me?" she exclaimed with animation, as she turned her wild and delighted eyes upon his. Oh, Cæsar, say so again!-say you do love me, and I shall be then too happy!"

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"Dear Harriette,"--and my father made an awkward and embarrassing pause "you know I ever loved you as a sister."

"As a sister!" and she pouted sullenly; "a sister's is not the love I feel toward you: Cæsar, I cannot live. Unless you let me love you fondly, warmly, ardently, as a woman loves, I shall die!" and she flung her arms round him, and hid her burning face upon his breast.

My father was fearfully agitated. He young, impetuous, and unreflecting-the undisguised passion of one so dangerously beautiful as Harriette Kirwan, might have wrought their mutual ruin. She hung upon his bosom, her eyes swimming with tears; and when he strove to calm her agitated spirits, and reason with her coolly, his lips unluckily met hers, and a fervid kiss of those impassioned lips interrupted, alas! the philosophic homily he had prepared himself to deliver.

It was indeed for both a trying moment; beautiful arms were wound around him, and looks, dark and lustrous, turned passionately upon his;-eyes that required the direct intervention of a patron saint to disarm-that none but an anchorite could resist that an Irish gentleman should more especially avoid, as

"He that knows

His heart is weak, to Heaven should pray
To guard him against looks like those."

Just then a noise was heard a red setter burst through the copse-a woodcock flushed-a gun exploded-and breaking the hazle boughs above their heads, the dead bird fell at my father's foot. Instantly hurrying his dangerous cousin along the path, before the sportsman could reload, the major and his companion were clear of the shrubbery, and directing their steps to the house by the open carriage drive.

It may be conjectured that the soldier carefully avoided another tête-à-tête. Harriette, mistaking the cause of my father's agitation during their morning interview, ascribed it to very different feelings, and indulging in hopes groundless and delusory, prepared to follow up her success. But the major, like an able commander, would leave nothing to chance, and had determined on retreating without "beat of drum." Secretly, therefore, orders of readiness were issued to Denis O'Brien, whom he had "purchased out" when he left the 18th. The baggage was packed without parade; and before daylight next morning, while the blooming Harriette dreamed of her dashing kinsman, the false commander was levanting upon the coach-box of the Galway mail, with Denis

and a brown portmanteau on the roof, the valet lilting an Irish song, and the master blowing "a comfortable cloud," with as much indifference as if they had bidden a ceremonious farewell to all in Castle Blake, "nor left a breaking heart behind."

It would be irrelevant to notice the fair one's rage when the departure of Cæsar Blake was first announced. In her chamber, she gave vent to feelings that were wild and tempestuous enough. Meanwhile the beloved one was posting to her favoured rival. The winds blew favourably and distance lessened until on the fifth evening, by the light of a splendid moon, the major drove into the remote village, adjacent to which the mansion and domain of Mr. Harrison lay.

CHAPTER III.

THE CROSS KEYS AND THE INTERVIEW.

It is the hour when from the boughs

The nightingale's high note is heard;

It is the hour when lovers' vows

Seem sweet in every whisper'd word;—
And gentle winds, and waters near,
Make music to the lonely ear.

Each flower the dews have lightly wet,

And in the sky the stars are met,

And on the wave is deeper blue,
And on the leaf a browner hue,
And in the heaven that clear obscure,
So softly dark, and darkly pure,
Which follows the decline of day,

As twilight melts beneath the moon away.

But it is not to list to the waterfall,
That Parasina leaves her hall;

And it is not to gaze on the heavenly light,

That the lady walks in the shadow of night;

And if she sits in Este's bower,

'Tis not for the sake of its full-blown flower;
She listens, but not for the nightingale,
Though her ear expects as soft a tale.

There glides a step through the foliage thick,

And her cheek grows pale, and her heart beats quick;

There whispers a voice through the rustling leaves,

And her blush returns, and her bosom heaves:

A moment more, and they shall meet-
'Tis past-her lover's at her feet!

PARASINA.

THE Cross Keys at Stainsbury was one of those comfortable country inns, which the experienced traveller prefers to the noisier houses of public accommodation that are to be found in larger places. It was "a low snug dwelling, and in good repair," flanked on one side by an extensive row of stabling, and on the other by a crowded stackyard. In front appeared a well cropped garden, with its flower-knots, and apiary, and close-cut hedges. There was a general neatness out of doors which told "mine host was no sloven: within, every thing was orderly and scrupulously clean; and when the traveller looked at the well-appointed parlour, he could not but contrast it with the dirty, dreary, rackety caravanserais, which even the best of the Hibernian hostels at that time were.

The arrival of the gallant major occasioned some bustle among the household of the Cross Keys. The soldier having now reached the scene of action, settled himself before the cheerful wood fire to arrange his plans for opening the campaign, by communicating his arrival to his "lady love." This, as it was the first, would probably be the most difficult movement—a failure would be fatal, and, therefore, due caution must be exercised. In Denis O'Brien he had an efficient and devoted ally, and, barring blunders, never did a more accomplished valet assist in the abstraction of an heiress. Denis had a bold heart, a stout arm, a ready wit, and brass enough to qualify for a London footman; but he had his failings, and these were an inveterate brogue, an unquenchable thirst, and an aversion to cool argument, which sometimes induced him to strike first, and reason afterward.

While my father was ruminating upon his plans, the table had been covered with a snowy cloth, and other necessary appendages for his immediate refreshment. Whether hunger or love had rendered his perceptions less acute than ordinary, I cannot say, but as he sate in moody silence, beating the "devil's tattoo" upon his boot, and gazing on the fire, the landlord's handsome daughter had visited and left the apartment thrice, without being noticed by the guest. This insensibility of the stranger piqued the demoiselle, who determined to interrupt his meditations.“ Did you order wine, sir ?" she said, poking her pretty face over my father's shoulder. But the traveller continued tapping the metal stove with the point of his cane. "Sir-sir, are you asleep or at your pray

ers ?" and she lightly touched his arm. My father raised his eyes carelessly, and they encountered a pair of as brilliant hazel ones, as ever undid a devotee.

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Now, Heaven pardon you," said the traveller, "I had just made resolutions against temptation, and you come here

to overset them."

"Sir-sir, for shame; how could you kiss one so, and the window open?"

Well, child, and who's to blame for that? Draw the curtains, and we'll talk about the wine. I'm so modest! it's a failing, I know-but who is faultless?"

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Modest! are you an Irishman?"

Yes, pretty one, sit down upon my knee, and I'll give you all the particulars of my birth, parentage, and education." "Can it be possible?" exclaimed the young attendant. "Gallant sir, have I ever seen that modest face before? Nay, I am not near-sighted, and am just as safe with the table between us. Have I had the honour of travelling in company with a crusty old man, a beautiful girl, and a most impertinent major, who, while the honest gentleman was engaged in attending to his trunks, did not neglect that opportunity, to bestow his parting benediction on the lips of the blushing daughter ?"

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"Now, who the deuce are you?" cried the 'soldier. Speak or I'll jump over the table and kiss to death upon the spot!"

you

"What a desperado the man must be!" said the maid of the inn. Shall I tell a tale that happened not a hundred years ago. Once upon a tiine, a young lady went to a watering place with her papa, and a cross papa he was. The day before she left home, her maid took a fancy to get married, and what was to be done? She could not get a servant, and persuaded her nurse's daughter to be her attendant for the time. On the return of the lady by the stage, (for papa would not travel as other people do, in their own carriages,) unfortunately a tall, impudent, well-looking Irish major was a fellowpassenger. Argus-eyed as the old man was, the soldier outmanœuvred him-persuaded the poor girl that she was in love, and in that belief she has since continued. Now, the attendant was not blind; she saw from behind the carriage that, while papa was rummaging the boot, the major was kissing his daughter, while he placed an emerald ring upon her finger, which ring the silly girl has worn next her heart since they parted."