or another, or else hearts made of such frail materials as ours would certainly break. If we have nobody else to sympathise with us, why we must sympathise with ourselves; so on this principle the Poor Relation began to make herself her own confidant. "So ends this dream," said the Poor Relation to herself, "this delusion, this infatuation! And how could I expect it to be otherwise? Have I not been nurtured in poverty, and is not poverty a leprosy which all men shun? Why did I make this experiment? I was happier before I dared to hope that I might be loved for my own sake. Then to acquire some accomplishment was a relaxation from toil then a book was my friend, music my consoler, and with these to fly to, I cared little for eating the bread of daily toil. But I wanted something to love!--had I possessed a parent, a brother, a sister,— oh, what happiness! how I should have doted! But no! when had I ever anything to love? How often have I said 'riches would buy me many friends,' but could I ever, ever know that I was loved for my own sake? And then when I snatched at that introduction into the circle of my own relations, hoping to find some one amongst them who could overlook my poverty, and love me for my own sake through all its humiliations, and he presented himself-the very being I would have chosen from the world-surely the joy intoxicated my very spirit. But he comes not!-he comes not! Ah, hope deferred doth indeed sicken the soul! He repents his preference! he sees my position in its just light! He shrinks from associating himself with my degradation! He recovers his senses, but I-I shall lose mine!" Just when the Poor Relation had arrived at this most sane conclusion, she heard a tap at the door, and not being either in voice or inclination to cry "Come in," trusted that the intruder would depart, instead of which the door was gently opened, and Mr. Harrowby himself entered. It is really wonderful how much hypocrisy the most moral of the sex can put into instant requisition. It took not a moment to dash away the tear, to gulp down the sob, and then the Poor Relation broke out in a voice of light hilarity, as though she and Care were utter strangers. 66 Well, really I have been amusing myself with thinking of you. Let me welcome you to my princely chamber. Look around you, Squire Harrowby, and tell me if you have a closet in Harrowby Hall that can vie with my costly bower. Look around, and see if my magnificent adornments do not mock your home." "You mock me, Hester," said Mr. Harrowby. "At this moment can you suppose that I see anything but yourself?" "Look on me then," said the Poor Relation, "look on me! See me as I am! Tear from your eyes the mists of a blinding preference. Look at me, a poor isolated woman. See! I have no beauty to charm your eye, I have no connexions to do you honour-these hands have hitherto earned their daily bread-the world may say that you have degraded yourself. You hear that I am abrupt of speech, uncompromising as you yourself told me, ungenerous! Are you not on the brink of a precipice? Stand back! stand back!" "Compose yourself, I beseech you. girl, be calm." Trust to my affection. Dear "And you retain your intention ?" "Most faithfully. Most firmly." "For your honour's sake ?" "For my heart's sake." "And under all the host of disadvantages which surround me— think! think ere it be too late-you still-you still " "Desire nothing in this world so much as this,”—and Mr. Harrow by took her hand-" Is it not mine ?" "Most generous of human beings!" exclaimed the Poor Relation. And then-and so-and so-and then-and so forth. We dare say our readers thought that they knew long enough ago how it would all end. If there had been a secret, however, we could have kept it. IRISH SONG. THE BRIDAL of dermot aAND KATHLEEN. BY MRS. CRAWFORD. DARTHULA SUL-ALLIN! ma gra bawn colleen! Darthula Sul-allin! thy Carolan waits, Come away to the bridal of Dermot Astore; To the feast and the dance, as in bright days of yore. In the joy of that meeting all grief they forget; The bridegroom in splendour has deck'd the gay hall, And the bride in her beauty looks brighter than all. Darthula Sul-allin! no longer delay! The gentle caora'st at rest on the flow'rs, The sweet rossin-cèolt is trilling his lay, And the bridal bells ringing-ah! would they were ours! Haste, haste, my Darthula! why tarry so long? The old castle rings with the dance and the song ; From goblets of gold the mil-fion they pour, And drink to young Kathleen and Dermot Astore. The Mil-fion, the ancient honey-wine, was the common beverage of the Irish at their banquettings, as appears in the life of Saint Berach. + Caora, a sheep. Rossin-ceol, in the Iberno-Celtic, means nightingale. THE DAMOSEL'S TALE.1 CHAPTER XIV. A wedding though little joy therewith-The damosel changes dwelling and fortune-The fair squire's return. "GILLE," said the damosel Avis, when she had slowly and painfully opened her heavy eyes next morning, "pray thee, what time o' day is it ?" "Prime, and one hour more, dearest lady. How fare you after your night's rest?" answered the faithful maiden, who still sat beside her. "How fare I? Why, truly, as to my health, well enow; but methinks I have had but ill dreams to-night. It seemed to me that my cousin Bradeston came to warn me of her bridal; but, in place of such joyous talk as fitted the time, she gave me nought but bitter and cruel taunts and speeches; and worse, Gille, yet worse by far-howbeit, of that I dare not speak even to thee, lest the telling should even bring it to pass. But wherefore dost thou shake thy head, and look thus piteously upon me? Of all loves, what hath befallen ?" "Alas and well-a-day, dearest lady !" said Gillian, in a low voice, "it hath not been wholly a dream." May Avis sat upright in her bed, and looked around her. "I remember me of it all now," she said, with a deep sigh. "What is doing below, Gillian? By the hour, there should have been stir enough in the house by this time." "They are gone!-all clean gone and away these three hours, sweet lady Avis!-knight and lady, squire and page, horse and mail!" "Our lady be thanked! then the bridal is over. And my lord prior, Gillian ?" "My lord hath left you his benison, and will ride over without fail at eventide, to know of your health, dearest lady." "Yea, did he say thus? It was graciously spoken, in any wise. You saw my lord, then, Gille? And what else befel? Seemed he as if well pleased with their hard and tyrannous usage of me?" "Surely, my dear lady, I saw my lord but for a moment's space, when all they of the household were commanded into the hall after the spousal; but, to my deem, his aspect looked as if any other cause had brought him, rather than love or liking toward the knight or his lady, though he is ever too noble a gentleman to bear him discourteously to any." "Thou sayest aright," said the damosel, again sighing heavily; "such behaviour had but ill beseemed him, and nought advantaged me. Wellaway! this is Monday, Gillian, as I think ?" "Yea, surely is it, dear lady." "And after that comes Tuesday-please God, by the end of to1 Continued from vol. xxxvi. p. 303. morrow night we shall see the end of all this work! Pray thee, Gille, put aside the curtain, and let me see the bright sun and blue sky. Methinks, whenever I look on them, I seem not so utterly forlorn; and, God wot, I have need of some hopeful thought at this time." Gillian did as she was bidden, though sorely grieving to see, by the stronger light, the pale cheeks and hollow eyes of the maiden, who quickly read her sorrow in her countenance. "Nay, dear Gille," she said, striving to smile, though in piteous wise, it is little now that ails me in body, thanks to thy medicine and the long deep slumber it brought; a little rest and quiet about the house, and good speed to-morrow, and all shall be well again. But, holy Peter, Gille, how hath my aunt ended matters with- the Lady de Hacquingay, as I suppose she is now called? Certes, there is no creature on earth so meek, unless it were thyself, as patiently to endure such message." "Of a truth, mine own dear lady, you have much to hear on that, as on other matters; but need is, afore all, that you take some food. Remember you, that neither meat nor drink hath passed your lips since sunset, and little enow in many days before." "Nay, then will I arise, and get me down to the small chamber that overhangs the garden," said the damosel-" that is, if I am yet free to use the house, Gillian ?" "Surely, dear lady-God and my lord prior forbid else!" answered Gillian; and straightway arraying the damosel, she led her to her own pleasant summer parlour, and hastened to set before her all the dainty cheer she could think of; but May Avis would taste nought save some fresh fruits and milk. "And now, good Gille," she said, "tell me whilst I dine what hath fallen out since yesternight-and above all would I hear how my fair aunt hath sped with Madame Eglantine." "Surely, then, dear lady, it were hard to judge which of them hath got the better, though the strife hath been both fierce and hot, as you shall hear anon. So soon as you were fallen asleep last night, I did your bidding to Madam Pauncefort, who truly made such show of anger thereupon as should little have been dreamed of by any of us. And therewith she gat herself, in much haste and heat, to the chamber of Madam Eglantine, where, by the noise and outcry as I passed by, it should seem there was high and angry debate between them. But dreading lest the din might awaken you, lady, whose health touched me more nearly, I made all speed hitherward; and in short space the sounds died away, little by little, until the whole house seemed to be stilled and quiet for the night. What further happened then, or at early morning, I know not, save that, by the space of an hour after dawn, there was clapping of doors, and clamours of voices, and hurrying of folk to and fro, and then all was suddenly hushed, whereby I guessed that they were one and all in the chapel; but I myself stepped not over the doorway of your chamber; until, when I could know by the sun that it was half way prime, there came one from my lord prior to bid me down to the hall, with the rest of the household; whereupon I did as I was commanded in all haste, tarrying but to make fast the chamber door, and take with me the key. When I came into the hall, behold! the tables were already set, and the folk round them eating and drinking-the squires and yeomanry of the stranger knight being all seated at the one, and my lord's people, of whom there were many, at the other, also by themselves— and at the high table, on the dais, sat my lord himself, as benign of countenance as is his wont, but truly with such mien of dignity and stateliness as I never saw in him until now-with the newly-wedded knight below him, in gay and costly attire, that only made him look yet more fierce and grimly. Over against them were his reverence the sub-prior, in cope and rochet, as of a holiday tide, together with my lord almoner; and on the right of my lord prior was my lady Eglantine, arrayed after the manner of a bride, in white and silver cloth of Tarse, with a band of rich jewels on her head, wherefrom hung a veil of silk and silver-so fair of face, and gaudily attired withal, that out of doubt, but to speak of her high beauty, she had been worthy to be lady to the best lord in England.” "My certes, Gillian," said May Avis, "she must have been in very deed a sight to delight the eyes of all; and methinks I could have well liked to gaze on her myself, maugre her despiteful usage of me. But my aunt, sweet Gille-how fared she in the midst of all this blithe bridal?" "In sooth, dear lady, when I pereeived that Madam Joyce was not in the company of the gentles on the dais, and called to mind her sore distemperature of the overnight, I deemed that she had fallen sick; but before I could inquire of those of our household, who were all standing on row at one side of the hall, my lord prior commanded us to draw nigh the foot of the dais; when he told us, in few words, that the mastery over Manor Place and lands being about to pass to the worshipful knight Sir Lancilot de Hacquingay, there in presence, our services should be no longer needed by our own lady, on whose behalf he gave us free licence-with many gracious recommendations, and assurance of fair recompence for all our pains-either to depart the house within the space of two days from the present, or enter at our choice into the household of my lord Sir Lancilot, who should be well content with our service and obedience." "Pray holy Mary they have mostly followed this last counsel!" said the maiden; "for it should much comfort me, Gillian, to think that my adversity had caused the mishap of as few as might be." "Truly, then, dearest lady Avis, they have all accorded with the knight's proffer-all save myself and one other." "Why, who else, dear Gillian? Surely it cannot be thy mother ?" "Out and alas, no, my dear lady! In very deed, she hath taken so vehement a fantasy touching this knight, who affirmeth himself to be of the same blood and lineage with Sir Thomas that is gone, that she holds her not less bound to his service than if her ancient lords were come again." For very shame, Gillian durst not tell her lady that the old shrew Muriel had been sitting feasting at the board, with the squires and yeomen of Sir Lancilot, from the very first, without so much as tarrying my lord prior's leave to change her service. 66 Nay, I looked for no other at her hand, good Gille; for, certes, |