et us be cautious. They wouldn't go on foot,
I think; and before we rise a ruction in the house, let us find out
whether she has made off or not. Sit you here, and I'll try to see
Connor, her maid."

"Ah, but, Andy, man, it's no just that pleasant to sit hei-e dry-lipped;
the tankard's, oot, ye ken."

"Divil tankard the Scotch sowl o'you--who do you suppose could think of
a tankard, or any thing else, if what we suspect has happened? It will
kill him."

He then proceeded to look for Connor, whom he met in tears, which she
was utterly unable to conceal.

"Well, Miss Connor," he asked, "what's the matther? You're cryin', I
persave."

"All, Cummiskey, my mistress is unwell."

"Unwell! why she wasn't unwell a while ago, when the gardener and I met
her and you on your way to the back o' the garden."

"Oh, yes," replied Connor; "I forced her to come out, to try what a
little cool air-might do for her."

"Ay, but, Connor, did you force her to come in again?"

"Force! there was no force necessary, Cummiskey. She's now in her own
room, quite ill."

"Oh, then, if she's quite ill, it's right that her father should know
it, in ordher that a docther may be sent for."

"Ah, but she's now asleep, Cummiskey--that sleep may set her to rights;
she may waken quite recovered; but you know it might be dangerous to
disturb her."

"Ah, I believe you," he replied, dissembling; for he saw at once, by
Connor's agitated manner, that every word she uttered was a lie; "the
sleep will be good for her, the darlin'; but take care of her, Connor,
for the masther's sake; for what would become of him if any thing
happened her? You know that if she died he wouldn't live a week."

"That's true, indeed," she replied; "and if she get's worse, Cummiskey,
I'll let the master know."

"That's a good girl; ma gragal that you! war--good-by, acushla," and he
immediately! returned to his own room, after having observed that Connor
went down to the kitchen.

"Now, Mr. Malcomson," said he, "there is a good fire before you. I ax
your pardon--just sit in the light of it for a minute or so; I want this
candle."

"'Am sayin', Andy, gin ye haud awa to the kitchen, it wadna be a crime
to send up anither tankard o' that yill."

To this the other made no reply, but walked out of the room, and very
deliberately proceeded to that of Helen. The door was open, the bed
unslept upon, the window-curtains undrawn; in fact, the room was
tenantless, Connor a lia