el offered, simply stating that his nature was
not yet purified and chastened; he was aware he was not walking in the
Light; he believed it to be a troubled season through which he must
needs pass. His frankness, as he was shrewd enough to guess, was
a source of perplexity to the elders; it prevented them from
excommunicating him without further probation, while it left him free
to indulge in further recreations.

Some months passed away, and the absence from which Henry Donnelly
always returned with a good supply of ready money did not take place.
The knowledge of farming which his sons had acquired now came into play.
It was necessary to exercise both skill and thrift in order to keep up
the liberal footing upon which the family had lived; for each member of
it was too proud to allow the community to suspect the change in their
circumstances. De Courcy, retained more than ever at home, and bound
to steady labor, was man enough to subdue his impatient spirit for the
time; but he secretly determined that with the first change for the
better he would follow the fate he had chosen for himself.

Late in the fall came the opportunity for which he had longed. One
evening he brought home a letter, in the well-known handwriting. His
father opened and read it in silence.

"Well, father?" he said.

"A former letter was lost, it seems. This should have come in the
spring; it is only the missing sum."

"Does O'Neil fix any time?"

"No; but he hopes to make a better report next year."

"Then, father," said De Courcy, "it is useless for me to wait longer; I
am satisfied as it is. I should not have given up Margaret in any case;
but now, since thee can live with Henry's help, I shall claim her."

"MUST it be, De Courcy?"

"It must."

But it was not to be. A day or two afterwards the young man, on his
mettled horse, set off up the Street Road, feeling at last that the
fortune and the freedom of his life were approaching. He had become, in
habits and in feelings, one of the people, and the relinquishment of the
hope in which his father still indulged brought him a firmer courage, a
more settled content. His sweetheart's family was in good circumstances;
but, had she been poor, he felt confident of his power to make and
secure for her a farmer's home. To the past--whatever it might have
been--he said farewell, and went carolling some cheerful ditty, to look
upon the face of his future.

That night a country wagon slowly dr