ose trammels which constrained and embarrassed
all his actions. His determination was so far prudent; but, alas! he
also resolved that it was but right, but necessary, that he should see
her before his departure. His leaving the country without a look or a
word of parting kindness interchanged, must to her appear an act of cold
and heartless caprice; he could not bear the thought.

'No,' said he, 'I am not child enough to say more than prudence tells
me ought to say; this cowardly distrust of my firmness I should and will
contemn. Besides, why should I commit myself? It is possible the girl
may not care for me. No, no; I need not shrink from this interview.
I have no reason to doubt my firmness--none--none. I must cease to
be governed by impulse. I am involved in rocks and quicksands; and a
collected spirit, a quick eye, and a steady hand, alone can pilot me
through. God grant me a safe voyage!'

The next day came, and young O'Mara did not take his fishing-rod as
usual, but wrote two letters; the one to his father, announcing his
intention of departing speedily for England; the other to Lady Emily,
containing a cold but courteous apology for his apparent neglect. Both
these were despatched to the post-office that evening, and upon the next
morning he was to leave the country.

Upon the night of the momentous day of which we have just spoken, Ellen
Heathcote glided silently and unperceived from among the busy crowds
who were engaged in the gay dissipation furnished by what is in Ireland
commonly called a dance (the expenses attendant upon which, music, etc.,
are defrayed by a subscription of one halfpenny each), and having
drawn her mantle closely about her, was proceeding with quick steps to
traverse the small field which separated her from her father's abode.
She had not walked many yards when she became aware that a solitary
figure, muffled in a cloak, stood in the pathway. It approached; a low
voice whispered:

'Ellen.'

'Is it you, Master Richard?' she replied.

He threw back the cloak which had concealed his features.

'It is I, Ellen, he said; 'I have been watching for you. I will not
delay you long.'

He took her hand, and she did not attempt to withdraw it; for she was
too artless to think any evil, too confiding to dread it.

'Ellen,' he continued, even now unconsciously departing from the rigid
course which prudence had marked out; 'Ellen, I am going to leave the
country; going to-morrow. I have had