el of us is forcin' you to b'lieve it. I suppose
the mother o' you has your _wooden spoon_ to the fore still. I'd kiss
the Bravery you didn't come into the world wid a silver ladle in your
mouth, anyhow. In the mane time, we're at the Bodagh's--an' have an eye
about you afther what you've heard--_Nabocklish!_"

This, indeed, was important intelligence to Connor, and it is probable
that, had he not heard it, another opportunity of disclosing his passion
might have been lost.

Independently of this, however, he was not proof against the popular
superstition of the bees, particularly as it appeared to be an augury
to which his enamored heart could cling with all the hope of young and
passionate enthusiasm.

Nor was it long till he had an opportunity of perceiving that she whose
image had floated in light before his fancy, gave decided manifestations
of being struck by the same significant occurrence. On entering the
garden, the first person his eye rested upon was Una herself, who,
as some of the other hives were expected to swarm, had been engaged
watching them during the day. His appearance at any time would have
created a tumult in her bosom, but, in addition to this, when she heard
that the bees which had rested on Connor's house, had swarmed from _her
own hive_, to use the words of Burns--

She looked--she reddened like the rose,
Syne pale as ony lily,

and, with a shy but expressive glance at Connor, said, in a low hurried
voice, "These belong to me."

Until the moment we are describing, Connor and she, notwithstanding that
they frequently met in public places, had never yet spoken; nor could
the words now uttered by Una be considered as addressed to him, although
from the glance that accompanied them it was sufficiently evident that
they were intended for him alone. It was in vain that he attempted to
accost her; his confusion, her pleasure, his timidity, seemed to unite
in rendering him incapable of speaking at all. His lips moved several
times, but the words, as they arose, died away unspoken.

At this moment, Mike, with waggish good-humor, and in a most laudable
fit of industry, reminded the other servants, who had been assisting
to secure the bees, that as they (the bees) were now safe, no further
necessity existed for their presence.

"Come, boys--death-alive, the day's passin'--only think. Miss Una, that
we have all the hay in the Long-shot meadow to get into cocks yet, an'
here we're idlin