with Philip from a kind governess, with the best of care and the most
affectionate counsel. Lady Ellenwood was very gracious and motherly
towards him, and the Earl always kind; yet he never forgot his humble
Irish parents, whom he was allowed to visit every year.

Thus years went on, and Arty was regarded as a beloved member of that
high family,--as the chosen friend, the brother elect, of his young
master. They were taught by one tutor, and finally sent to school
together, always keeping along hand in hand, in the utmost brotherly
good feeling, with a great, tender love between them,--a love neither
tainted by haughty condescension on the one side, nor by flattering
subserviency on the other. It was a beautiful and marvellous affection.

At length the lads were spending their last vacation at home, in the
old Castle in Wicklow. They were nearly sixteen, and as fine looking,
gallant lads as the country could boast. Such loving, inseparable
companions were they, that they were playfully named "David and
Jonathan."

The pleasure of this visit to the Castle was only marred by the illness
of Mrs. O'Neill, who was thought to be in a decline. Arthur, though so
far removed from his simple life by the patronage of the great, had
always been a good and dutiful son, while Philip had ever evinced a
remarkable fondness for the warm-hearted foster-mother, whose sad blue
eyes dwelt on his merry face with a singular expression of yearning,
sorrowful tenderness.

It was the sixteenth birthday of Philip, Lord Alverley, and his happy
parents gave a ball in honor of the occasion. All the "best people" of
the country were present, and all was brightness, music, and
gayety,--joyous hearts keeping time to light, dancing feet. But, in
the midst of the festivities, the young lord of the _fete_ and Arthur
were summoned from the ball-room by Terence O'Neill, the lodge-keeper,
who came to tell them that his poor wife had taken a turn for the
worse, and was sinking rapidly, and that she desired to see her two
dear lads before she should pass away.

Without a moment's hesitation the friends set out together for the
Lodge. Terence O'Neill left them there and hastened away to summon the
parish priest. So it happened that the lads found themselves alone by
the bedside of Norah O'Neill. They sank on their knees beside her and
burst into tears. The dying woman gazed at them with a look of wild,
passionate love, which seemed struggling w