orn beauty."

Miss Travers blushed. She was young enough to blush at a compliment from
such a source, as her father said laughingly--

"Well, Terry, and have they been deceiving you?"

"No," said he, gravely, as with steady gaze he fixed his large blue eyes
on the fair features before him. "No--she is a purty crayture--a taste
sorrowful or so--but I like her all the better. I was the same myself
when I was younger."

Terry's remark was true enough. The young girl had been a listener for
some time to the stories of the people, and her face betrayed the sad
emotions of her heart. Never before had such scenes of human suffering
been revealed before her--the tortuous windings of the poor man's
destiny, where want and sickness he in wait for those whose happiest
hours are the struggles against poverty and its evils.

"I can show you the beautifullest places in the whole country," said
Terry, approaching Miss Travers, and addressing her in a low voice,
"I'll tell you where the white heath is growing, with big bells on it,
like cups, to hould the dew. Were you ever up over Keim-an-eigh?"

"Never," said she, smiling at the eagerness of her questioner.

"I'll bring you, then, by a short-cut, and you can ride the whole way,
and maybe we'll shoot an eagle--have you a gun in the house?"

"Yes, there are three or four," said she humouring him.

"And if I shoot him, I'll give you the wing-feathers--that's what they
always gave their sweethearts long ago, but them times is gone by."

The girl blushed deeply, as she remembered the present of young
O'Donoghue, on the evening they came up the glen. She called to mind the
air of diffidence and constraint in which he made the proffer, and for
some minutes paid no attention to Terry, who still, continued to talk as
rapidly as before.

"There, they are filing off," said Terry--"orderly time," as he once
more shouldered his sapling and stood erect. This observation was made
with reference to the crowd of poor people, whose names and place of
residence Sir Marmaduke having meanwhile written down, they were now
returning to their homes with happy and comforted hearts. "There they
go," cried Terry, "and an awkward squad they are."

"Were you ever a soldier, Terry?" said Miss Travers.

The poor youth grew deadly pale--the very blood forsook his lips, as
he muttered, "I was." Sir Marmaduke came up at the instant, and Terry
checked himself at once and said--

"Whenever you want me,