ering inquirer. Her companion
again whispered that she should await the result in silence. Suddenly
the light flashed out as before, and she saw the dumb fortune teller
instead of the individual she expected. Her features were more writhen
and distorted than ever; and she seemed to mutter, it might be, some
malignant spell, some charm, the operation of which was for some
unknown and diabolical intent. Ellen shuddered as the weird woman took
a paper-roll from her bosom. Unfolding it, there was displayed the
figure of her lover, as she supposed, kneeling, while he held out his
hands toward the obdurate heart which he in vain attempted to grasp.

"I have wronged him," said Ellen, in a whisper to her companion; "if I
interpret these images aright, he now sighs for my favour; and--would
that we had known each other ere it was too late!"

"He knows now," said Lady Gerard; and immediately the dumb prophetess
was at her side. She threw off a disguise, ingeniously contrived, and
Ellen beheld her cousin William! The magic mirror was but an aperture
through the wainscot into another apartment, and the plot had been
arranged in the first place by Mrs Bridget, who had been confederate
with the handsome but somewhat haughty wooer, having for his torment a
maiden as haughty and intractable as himself. Thus two loving hearts
had nigh been broken for lack of an interpreter. William's absence had
taken deeper hold on Ellen's finely-tempered frame than was expected;
and it was with sorrow and alarm that he heard of her illness. His
distant relative, Lady Gerard, to whom he had retired for a season,
spake of the marvellous hand, which, he was sure, being a devout and
pious Catholic, would cure any disease incident to the human frame. It
was absolutely needful that a cure should be attempted, along with
some stratagem, to conquer the yet unbroken obstinacy in which, as
with a double panoply, Ellen had arrayed herself. The result of the
experiment has been shown. She was united to her cousin ere a few
months were old, and the "merrie spring" had melted in the warm lap of
summer.

THE LOST FARM;

OR, THE HAUNTED CASKET.

"And when of me his leave he tuik,
The tears they wat mine ee,
I gave tull him a parting luik,
'My benison gang wi' thee;
God speed thee weil, mine ain dear heart,
For gane is all my joy;
My heart is rent, sith we maun part,
My handsome Gilderoy.'

"