Skirting along the hill with a gradual descent, the broad gravel-walk plunged into the valley, and there all was altered once more. A wide and uncultivated wood swept round, a small sparkling rivulet dashing on towards the broader stream amidst bushes and shrubs and water plants; a willow here and there bending down its long pliant branches over the glittering stream, and a patch of tall bulrushes raising their long green stems, where any occasional interruption occasioned the water to spread out. The trees were far apart, though the ground was broken and uneven, and the flapping wing of a heron, with his gray shadowy form rising up at some fifty or sixty yards' distance, added to the saddening and sombering effect. It was like a discord in a fine piece of music: just protracted long enough to make what had gone before and what followed after more delightful, and the next minute they issued forth upon the warm green meadows, gilded with buttercups, that lay by the side of the wider

river.

She could have

Heaven only knows what Isabella meant in bringing Beauchamp by that path, if she did not intend him to make love to her. taken him round by the other side of the house, and the straight horseroad to the bridge, or down over the turf through the open parts of the park, amongst the deer and fern to the farther end of the river, where it issued out of the grounds. But no, whether from something that was going on in her own bosom, which made her instinctively choose the scenes that most assimilated with her feelings, or from accident, caprice, or design, she led him through a path, full of the sense of love. There was one too many for a declaration, it is true; and she knew she was so far guarded; but yet it was a very dangerous walk for any two people, whose hearts had no better security than the simple presence of another, to stray along upon such a day as that.

The letter, which Beauchamp had received at breakfast, had evidently either pleased, or entertained, or relieved him; but the effect was, that he was infinitely gayer when he set out than he had ever been since we have first met with him. He crossed the open ground by Isabella's side with a firmer and more elastic step, with his head high and his shoulders back, he gazed over the wide-spread park scenery around, and seemed to snuff the air like a horse about to start upon a race. He commented upon the loveliness of such views, remarked how very English they were-how very seldom one ever saw any thing similar in any other land-and seemed to enjoy the whole so highly, as to leave an impression that the pleasure of the walk was heightened by the society in which it was taken. When he came under the shade of the tall trees his tone was somewhat changed, it became softer, more serious, more earnest; and so he went on, his thoughts seeming to receive a colouring from the scenery through which he passed, without losing their general character, or particular train at the moment. It was evident through all that he was thinking of Isabella Slingsby; and though, with finished courtesy, he divided his conversation very equally-not quite-between her and her cousin, yet even when he was speaking to Mary Clifford, it was very evident that his words, or at all events, his thoughts, were addressed to Isabella.

Mary said little, except just to keep up the conversation and deprive it of any thing like awkwardness; but she felt, and indeed nobody could help feeling, that Mr. Beauchamp's manner towards her cousin was too

marked and particular to be mistaken. Isabella, on her part, gave way to all the gaiety of her heart, sometimes with bright and laughing sallies playing round Beauchamp's more earnest and deep-toned thoughts, sometimes yielding to the impulse which she imparted, and venturing into the deep waters of feeling and reflection, whither he led her, till startled at herself she took fright and retreated. She was very happy, too; secure in Mary's presence from any thing that might agitate or alarm, she felt that she could give way to the pleasure of the moment; and even the knowledge of her father's situation and of the dangers and difficulties that beset him acted but as a softening and subduing power, which brought down her spirits from their habitual gaiety, and rendered her heart more susceptible of tenderer and deeper impressions.

Beauchamp felt that he was listened to, that he pleased, that he might be beloved. He had seen nothing coquettish about Isabella; he had heard a high character of her; he had been told by one, who had known her from childhood, that she seemed lighter than she really was; that if there was any thing assumed, it was the gaiety; that all the more profound things, that occasionally appeared in her character, might be trusted and relied upon; and that the seemingly high spirits were but as the breeze, that ruffles the tree tops without touching the depth of the forest. He felt sure, therefore, that she would not sport with him, if she believed he was in earnest, and he took care, that upon that subject she should have little doubt.

Thus passed away their walk; and though Mary Clifford would have given a great deal, had she dared to venture, to make Mr. Beauchamp a sharer in the secret of Sir John Slingsby's affairs, and asked the advice and assistance of one who had evidently gained much experience of the world, without being spoiled by the world, yet she knew not how to begin; a feeling of timidity came over her that stopped her; and the course of the conversation-its sparkling rapidity at some times, its deep and intense feelings at others-gave no opportunity of introducing a subject entirely discordant, without forcing it in a manner both harsh and discourteous. She determined, therefore, as they approached the river, to leave the matter to Captain Hayward, whose frank straightforwardness, she thought, would soon either find or make an opportunity.

When they reached the bank, however, Captain Hayward was not to be seen; but Isabella pointed to an elbow of the wood, which concealed a turn in the stream, saying that he was most likely higher up, and accordingly they walked on. As they were passing through the little path that cut through an angle of the woodland, they heard suddenly a loud exclamation, then a very ungentlemanly oath, and the next moment, as they issued forth, they saw Ned Hayward grappling with a tall, powerful

man, in what may be called a semi-military dress. The two were, apparently, well matched, though few, either in strength, activity, or skill, could match our friend. But the stranger, whoever he was, practised a trick, which he thought likely to free himself from his adversary, even at the risk of his own life. He struggled hard, and in the struggle drew towards the brink. Ned Hayward made a violent effort to resist the impulse, and most likely would have been successful; for, if any thing, he was the stronger man of the two. But a part of the green turf gave way, undermined by the course of the current, and both plunged in together into a deep pool, and disappeared for an instant in the water.

THE ABDUCTION-NO FAITH IN IRISH JAUNTING-CARS-CONSEQUENCES OF A BREAK-DOWN-THE VICTIM OF VILLANY.

Oh! weep for the hour,
When to Eveleen's bower,

The lord of the valley with false vows came;

The moon hid her light,

From the heaven that night,

And wept behind her clouds o'er the maiden's shame.
The clouds passed soon

From the chaste cold moon,

And Heaven smiled again with her vestal flame,
But none will see the day,

When the clouds shall pass away,

Which that dark hour left upon Eveleen's fame.

MOORE.

"I HAD a sister's son-a clane, nice lad he was, and I was proud of him. In the seven towns* there wasn't a better hurler, and it would do yer heart good to see him dance the patter-o-pee. Unfortunately for himself and me, he took to night-walkin; and the Ribbon-men- -curse of God upon the same! hooked him in, and med a captain of him. and Morteeine were sworn brothers, and well they might; for af Captain Starlight was the terror of the country, Captain Firethatch wasn't much behind him."

"Stop, Ulick-and who is Captain Starlight?" I ejaculated, interrupting the driver's narrative.

An Irish peasant will never answer a dangerous question directly. "Did yer honour ivir drink doch an durris wid a rought-fatured red man!"

"Ha! Ulick-I have, with Morteeine Crassaugh."

"Then," returned the car-driver, "I need say no more- Tiggum

Tigue Tigeeine !'"

"Hell and furies!" I exclaimed.

him, Captain Star-"

"And is this Crassaugh, as ye call

"Af he's not, there's many in the country that belie him.”

66

Well, Ulick, go on with your story.'

"Where did I lave off?" inquired the old man. "Och! about my nephew."

"But what has you nephew's story to do with that of Morteeine's wife?"

* Town lands.

Why, yer honour, that's jist what I'm commin to." "Oh, go on at your own pace, Ulick."

"I'll make the story as short as I can. My nephew was informed against-taken when asleep-tried at the assizes. His counsel got him through the murder charge cliverly; but for robbery of arms he was convicted, and sentenced to be transported for life. I went, the night before he was sent off to Cork, into the gaol, and took lave of him; and thin his heart softened, and he tould me what things laid to his charge were true, and what were not. Uncle,' says he, I'm goin' for ivir acrass the saas; and of all the acts I done, there's one that sits heaviest on my conscience.'- -And what's that one, avich?' says I.Oh! murder!' says he; it's the part I took in hoisting away poor Mary Handley.' That's Morteeine's wife, yer honour. Well,' says I, Phil, jewel! make a clane breast to your uncle, and tell it all.' Dispensing with the numerous interrogatories and replies with which an Irish narrative is always surcharged, the confession of the unfortunate transport was to this effect.

As a member of the Ribbon association, he had received a secret notice to meet a number of this mischievous fraternity at their accustomed rendezvous-the house of Morteeine Crassaugh-and, on reaching the lonely inn, the young leader found eleven men already assembled, carousing in the inner room, and, as he was informed, awaiting his arrival. All were liberally plied with whiskey; and, when they were considered sufficiently excited to undertake the intended task, the host hinted that, unless a pledge was given that they would effect the business with determination, he would not disclose the nature of it. Would it involve the loss of life? was asked, and a distinct negative was returned. On this assurance, the party unanimously consented. A cross and missal were introduced, and a solemn oath administered, that whatever the business was, it should be executed. The test once taken, Morteeine announced the purpose for which the secret meeting had been called-the object was the abduction of the heiress of the murdered quartermaster-the loveliest girl in the barony.

The driver's nephew was a ruffian of milder mood than his fellowcaptain, and he ventured to remonstrate. He pleaded the poor girl's orphanage reminded Morteeine that his wife was but a few days under earth-and pointed out the gross disparity, in point of years, between the intended victim and the abductor. A savage and sarcastic laugh was all that Morteeine deigned to return. To reason with a coldblooded scoundrel was to waste words in vain; the young man was reminded of his oath: and, with desperate fidelity in keeping a pledge, more honoured in the breach than in the observance, Ülick's nephew most reluctantly accompanied the ruffian band on their villanous enterprise.

No difficulty occurred in effecting the commission of the crime. A treacherous servant undid the fastenings of the back door, and gave admission to the gang. The farmer's family, completely taken by surprise, were easily overpowered and secured; the poor orphan was torn from her bed; placed half-dressed before a mounted ruffian; and, leaving the inmates of the house locked up under a guard, the party, with their prize, rode into the interior of the mountains, and secured, in a secluded cabin, the beautiful girl they had ravished from her home. To execute

the work of villany with success, Morteeine Crassaugh had made deliberate preparation. In vain military and police scoured the country in all directions; no traces of the lost one could be found; nor a clue be discovered by which to find the place of her concealment.

When the cause which had occasioned this outrage on her liberty was announced to the victim, and Morteeine named himself as her future lord, reckless ruffian as he was, he quailed before the burst of female indignation with which Mary Handley spurned the addresses of a man she loathed. Her spirit rose superior to her fears; and the young and beautiful orphan evinced such fixed determination to resist a union she detested, that it called forth the astonishment of all concerned, and elicited the admiration of several less obdurate than their savage chief.

But, alas! that nobleness of spirit which, from another, would have commanded respect and change of ruffian purpose, only stimulated the abductor to attain the object of his crime, and effect his most unholy marriage with his victim. A week passed: attempts to recover the lost heiress were considered hopeless, and given over. The villanous associates of the red innkeeper quitted the mountains, one by one, and returned to their homes, leaving the desolate girl in the custody of two or three savages in female form, and a monster to whom the word pity was unknown.

What followed may be fancied, not described. Another week passed: the ruin of female loveliness was brought at midnight to Morteeine's dwelling, and a degraded friar performed the mockery of a marriage. Through the semblance of a hallowed ceremony, the unhappy girl went, neither assenting nor resisting. The flower was crushed--villany had already done its worst-she felt as if her degradation had left nothing on earth to be hoped for or to be feared-her fate was sealed.

A month or two of silent grief gradually wore away, and a change came over the spirit of the injured orphan. Reckless, hopeless, fearless, her mood became that of one too desperate to even think of consequences-and a name that carried fear with it had lost its terror to her. Morteeine, for the first time, found himself over-matched. His threats were laughed to scorn-his blandishments rejected with contempt. Until his victim attained her majority, the object of his villany could not be reached; for, on her father's murder, she had been put under charge of the chancellor; and, of course, her fortune, for the present, was secured. From whatever cause he bore it, she bearded the lion with impunity; and, strange as it may appear, a felon spirit, unscrupulous as to means employed, and hackneyed in deeds of violence, cowered before the over-excited hardiesse of a beautiful girl of nineteen. "Wait only till he grabs her money, sir," observed the car-driver, winding up his tale, "As sure as yer honour and myself are safe and snug upon this jauntingcar, Morteeine Crassaugh will be hanged for Mary Handley's murder yet."

The words had scarcely passed his lips, until his assertions respecting our safety and snugness were falsified for off went the off-side wheel; a shaft snapped by the sudden jerk; Ulick was shot into an adjacent boghole; and I performed a sort of back somerset, without, however, sustaining the slightest personal inconvenience. When he had evolved from the turf-pit, Ulick proceeded to examine the cause and extent of the calamity; and on a slight inspection, he commenced crossing himself most devoutly, and imploring the especial protection of the Virgin.