, and she retired, wishing
him good night, with no small degree of indignation expressed in her
countenance at his iniquitous wish. She retired to her chamber--her
anger was soon chased away by the idea that it was for her sake that her
father was so irritated, and that to-morrow all would be well. Bending
to her Creator in gratitude and love, and not forgetting Seymour in her
orisons, she laid her head upon her pillow, and visions of future
happiness filled her dreams in uninterrupted succession.

Enjoy them, beautiful and innocent one! Revel in them, if it were
possible, to satiety--for they are thy last enjoyment. How much would
the misery of this world be increased, if we were permitted to dive into
futurity. The life of a man is a pilgrimage in error and in darkness.
The _ignis fatuus_ that he always pursues, always deceives him, yet he
is warned in vain--at the moment of disappointment, he resolves--sees
another, and pursues again. The fruit is turned to ashes in his mouth
at the fancied moment of enjoyment--warning succeeds warning--
disappointment is followed up by disappointment every grey hair in his
head may be considered as a sad memento of dear-bought, yet useless
experience--still he continues, spurred on by Hope, anticipating
everything, in pursuit of nothing, until he stumbles into his grave, and
all is over.

Little did McElvina and the vicar think what the consequences would be
of their leaving Rainscourt in his wrath. Little did Rainscourt and the
nurse imagine how dreadful and how futile would be the results of their
wicked intentions. Little did the enamoured and guileless pair, who now
slumbered in anticipated bliss, contemplate what, in the never-ceasing
parturition of time, the morrow would bring forth.

Early in the morning, Rainscourt, who was awake, and who had not taken
off his clothes, was startled by a low tapping at his door. It was the
nurse.

"Well," said Rainscourt, hastily, "have you procured what we were
talking of?"

"I have indeed; but--"

"No buts, Norah, or we part for ever. Where is it? Who is with him?"

"One of the women. I tould her I would nurse him after daylight."

"When does he take his fever draughts?"

"Every two hours--Och hone, he'll take but one more.--So young, and so
beautiful, too."

"Silence, fool; go and send the other woman to bed, and then bring in
one of the draughts."

The old nurse turned back as she was hobbling away--

"And the