his reverie, and the next moment he was at the feet of Miss Ewing! He found her with his letter open in her hand; and he felt in a moment, from that intuitive and untraceable faculty of the mind which springs to conclusions while reason would be but ar ranging premises, a whole series of convictions, which thrilled through his beart, swift and subduing as the lightning's dash.

He saw that she sympathized with the distress he had painted-that her's also had been a night of unrestand that, like him, she had thus early come forth, agitated by his anxieties. And now he was before her, with the

secret of his heart revealed to her; not by the sympathy of friendship alone, or pity, did he claim an interest in her thoughts, but as a lover he bent before her, to acknowledge the devotedness of his heart to herself. How strange and affecting is that union of pride and humbleness of aspiring feeling and yet sincere devotedness, which belongs to the deep sentiment

of man's love for woman.

"Do you forgive me, Miss Ewing, for what I have ventured to write to you?" he exclaimed: "I dare not ask

more."

The colour fled from the young lady's cheek-returned in a blushing tidethen fled again: she tried to speak, but it was in vain-she burst into tears.

Dear, dear angel," he murmured; and he, too wept--they were the passionate tears of love.

Miss Ewing was the first to recover her self-possession. "Mr. Trevor," she said, "this is not a time for the indulgence of feeling. I have been deeply affected by the circumstances related in your letter; but, instead of yielding to sorrow, I ought rather to lose no time in offering you my counsel, feeble as it must necessarily be. I cannot think that there is positively no alternative but that of flying from the legal penalties which you believe you have incurred."

"It is the exposure, the disgrace, I wish to avoid," he exclaimed, "and, possibly, legal banishment."

"But is it certain that you must endure any of these? May not the guilt of your accusers be made to appear? I know nothing of business;

but if you would confide this matter to my uncle, he is prudent and kind."

"I feared that his strictness would make no allowance for a violation of the law," said Trevor.

"I do not think that you judge of him correctly," she returned. "If he thought you continued obstinate in the error into which you fell, he would be strict to correct you; but when he sees that an error is repented of, I am sure he would give you any assistance in his power. To put the matter to the test, will you give me leave to tell him the difficulty in which you are placed, and to beg he will give you his advice?"

soul I thank you for this kindness. I "Most readily; and with all my see that I may trust everything to your prudence. Would that I had ever had a friend like you.”

66

Nay," she replied, smiling, and wishing to raise his spirits from their apparent dejection, "you must not set me down for one of the wise old women whose reputation your servant was accustomed to magnify as 'better doctors than those of 'Poticaries' Hall, and cuter

counsellors nor any in the Four Courts.' I can but ask advice of another, which I think may be of use, and, I am almost and now I must begone, for I see my sure, will be readily and kindly given : find you here or in the breakfast room uncle has opened his windows. I shall when I have finished my conference."

But no sooner had she left him, than the task she had so readily undertaken seemed to her very different from what it had when her feelings prompted her to propose it. She began to doubt her ability for detailing the story to her uncle, and it was impossible she could give him the letter to read. Must she not, she said to herself, have appeared too forward to Trevor; and would not

her uncle be surprised, and perhaps displeased, that she had not at once informed him who his visitor was when she first saw him? These thoughts quickly occurred to her; but consciousness of the rightness of her intentiona determination to tell nothing but the plain truth-and recollection of the urgency of the case, overcame these scruples. She found her uncle already coming down from his room, and, telling him she wished to speak to him in his study, soon found herself fairly launched

into her explanation concerning their young guest.

Mr. Ewing heard the detail with surprise and much interest, and did not exhibit the least displeasure against his niece for what she had done. "Thee did right, my child," he said affectionately; "thee did right, in telling me of this. I know the family of the young man well, and must have often seen himself when he was a child. I knew also the man Moylan, of whom you have spoken: he is a villain, and that I can prove; but let us go to Henry Trevor I would speak with him upon this subject."

66

My dear kind uncle," said Mary, as she took the old man's arm, and led him to the garden, "how glad I am that you will advise him." They soon found Trevor, and the embarrassment attending upon his apologies and explanations was but just over, when a new scene of bustle arose. Patrick M'Cabe came running along the walk, and soon stood before them, hat in hand, but so out of breath, that he could not speak.

"What is the matter now, Patrick?" said his master. "What brings you here ?"

"I want to speak to you, sir," said Pat, now recovering himself, and assuming that sort of caution which the common Irish, with all their headlong ways, so soon catch up.

Speak on, then, at once." Pat glanced at his master, then at Mr. Ewing.

Speak on," repeated his master, understanding him. "I have no secrets here."

"Well, then, sir, Moylan's here: he's hard by at the inn."

"Hah!" said Trevor: "he has, then, traced me even here. It seems incredible. Did you see him ?"

"Be me sowl, I did, sir, and it isn't asy to mistake the look of him-it was him I seen, sure enough, barrin' it was the divil-and I didn't persave no horns, nor tail."

“But what can he have come here for ?"

"For no good, any how, sir, the revingeful spalpeen. If it wasn't that he has a brother a priest, be me conscience, I think I'd have basted him warm enough, and thrown him into the Barrow, to cool again before now. He does'nt

come alone neither, sir; there's two strange men with him. What's to be done, sir ?"

"Go and saddle the horses directly, and wait in the stable till I come. But I suppose it is in vain now," he continued, addressing his friends as the servant departed: "he must have his victim; further escape can scarcely be practicable."

Miss Ewing sat in silence, looking towards her uncle, while tears trembled in her eyes.

Thy case is not so bad, young friend," said the old man: "it is not needful that thou shouldst rely only on escape. I know this Moylan, who is a guilty man, and I have proofs against him which he perhaps little supposes. He received a good education, which he abused. It is now twenty years since he forged a will of his father's cousin, whereby he obtained from my brother-in-law a sum of money which he held, belonging to the deceased person. The crime was soon discovered; but my relative being of the Society of Friends, would not prosecute for the felony, but paid the two hundred pounds over again to the rightful owner. At the death of my brother-in-law, his papers came into my hands. I have the forged will still in my possession, and one of the witnesses whose name was forged is still alive. Moylan, who had before that time been intended for a priest, then left the country, and it is only two or three years since he returned. It is plain that I can give thee the means of making a case against him which will cause him to be careful of what he does: in the mean time, I advise thee to abide here, awaiting with fortitude what may turn out."

A ringing and knocking at the gate interrupted their conversation, and a servant came out to say that a person wanted "the master" immediately, on urgent business.

66

Tarry, then, here," said he to Trevor, "for possibly it is this enemy of thine. Mary, come then with me; for if it be him, I shall not speak with him but before a witness."

Why give you this needless trouble, sir?" said Trevor, with bitterness; "had I not better go and meet him at once ?"

Quaker; "better leave him to me; there are other affairs than thine of which it will be needful to speak to bun."

"Well, sir, recollect I am here ready, if you have occasion to send for me. I believe you do not approve of resistance in such cases."

"No, no; there must be no violence, and I trust there will be no occasion to think of any such thing: remain here till we come."

When the old man and his niece entered the parlour, they found awaiting them the stranger, in whom Miss Ewing recognized with alarm which she could scarcely conceal, a face which she had seen before. It was indeed Moylan, who, fearful that Trevor would escape from his clutches, and that he should thereby lose the benefit of the terms he had determined to make with him, had come down himself for the greater readiness of driving his bargain. Deprived of the resources which he had derived from the purse and the hospitality of the young man while he was his dupe, he now sought to extort a good round sum from him as his victim. Beyond this he had the ulterior object of sending him out of the country, if not by sentence of the law, by the fear of it; for, now that his political schemes were seen through by Trevor, the absence of that young gentleman was necessary to their success. His information of Trevor's movements, which seemed at first sight incomprehensible, was owing partly to the number of emissaries with whom his schemes placed him in connexion, but chiefly to the secret intelligence he derived through his brother the priest, over whom his superior energy and knowledge gave him unbounded influence. It was in this way that, unconsciously to himself, even the attached servant of Trevor, who would have encountered any peril rather than a hair of his master's head should be touched, furnished intelligence to his master's enemy.

"Hast thou any business with me, friend?" said Mr. Ewing.

"Not directly with you, sir," said Moylan, "except to apologize for calling upon you at so early an hour as this. My business is to find a gentle

man who I believe arrived here last night, and has not yet left this."

"And what hast thou to do with any guest of mine ?"

"I am sure, sir, it cannot be your wish to harbour any one whom the law demands to be given up. If Mr. Henry Trevor is here, he must go with me.”

“And dost thou think, James Moylan, for I know thee," said the Quaker, "that I will deliver into hands such as thine, and without remonstrance, a guest of mine whom thou dost persecute? Bethink thee what thou dost ; remember that his father was thy father's benefactor and thine own. Hast thou no sense of gratitude? Remember it was through thy company he fell into the errors which render him liable to the penalties of the law. Hast thou no shame ?"

"Sir," said Moylan, in angry tone, "I did not come here to be scolded by you. Let me see Mr. Trevor, and converse with him."

"He will not converse with thee; he is acting under my advice. What is it thou hast to say? is it that he must be dragged by thee to prison ?"

"That depends upon circumstances," replied Moylan.

The old man considered for a moment. "I think I understand thee," he said: "it might be that thou wouldst not object to the young man going out of the country."

Moylan nodded assent.

“And will nothing less satisfy thee than that thy recent friend shall go forth from his home, a fugitive and a vagabond, because it suits thy convenience or gratifies thy malice?"

"Mr. Trevor must, no doubt, leave the country," said Moylan, with a cool determination of manner which seemed to forbid further parley.

"I have, then, a written argument I would wish thee to glance at," said Mr. Ewing; and going to his desk, he took from one of its inmost nooks the forged will of which he had told Trevor. "Dost thou see this parchment?" he continued, exhibiting the endorsement upon it, at a little distance from Moylan.

The villain started back, involuntarily exclaiming, "The scoundrel, theu, deceived me; it was not destroyed."

Moylan looked round him, and out of the windows; it was the glance of an instant, but it satisfied him that there could be no witnesses to the scene but the old man and his niece. "Sir," said he, "I am a determined man; deliver me that parchment, or I shoot you dead where you stand;" and as he spoke, he pulled from his pocket a small pistol, and presented it at the old man.

"Oh! my uncle," shrieked Miss Ewing, springing towards him from her seat; but ere she reached him she sunk down in a fainting fit. At this instant one of the windows was dashed open, and a man leaping in with a loud shout and upraised stick, struck Moylan on the back of the head a blow which stretched him senseless on the ground. As he fell, the pistol that was in his hand was discharged, and it was well that Mr. Ewing had put the folded parchment in his breast pocket, for it saved his life. The ball struck him in the breast, glanced off the parchment, and did no more serious damage than that of cutting a slip from his second best coat, and tearing away one of the breast buttons. All this was the work of less than half a minute; the confusion that succeeded was dreadful. When the servants rushed in from the other parts of the house, and Trevor from the garden, the scene that presented itself was terrific. Miss Ewing and Moylan lay on the floor, both apparently dead; Pat M'Cabe, for he it was who had come so suddenly to the rescue, had cut his face and hands in getting through the window, and stood over Moylan with stick in hand, and covered with his own blood; old Mr. Ewing was upon his knees uttering pious ejaculations over his swooning niece, and the room was filled with the smoke of the exploded pistol.

A little time, however, subdued the alarm, and gave leisure to understand what had really happened. Miss Ewing recovered from her fainting fit, and wept with joy to find her uncle safe. He calmly thanked Heaven for his life preserved. A little careful washing, and some whiskey applied both externally and internally, made Pat McCabe almost as well as if nothing had happened; but he made a vow never to strike a man again on the back of the head, while he had a loaded pistol presented against a friend's breast. The wretched man, Moylan, had received a dreadful blow, and was the only one who required surgeon's assistIt appeared that M'Cabe had been all along at the edge of the window, out of view of those within, watching the interview between Mr. Ewing and Moylan; and when he saw the pistol presented, he acted on the impulse of the moment, and sprung into the room. Had there been time to think, he would, as he afterwards admitted, have taken Mr. Moylan's relationship to the priest into consideration, and have contented himself with tripping up his heels.

ance.

The event which had taken place put an end to the immediate danger of arrest in which Mr. Trevor had been placed by the persecution of Moylan, and the next day he had the satisfaction to learn, by a letter forwarded to him from home, that his uncle, to whom he had written a full account of the circumstances, had instantly come to Dublin Castle, and had succeeded in satisfying the authorities that the circumstances against his nephew were by no means of the nature that had been supposed. Directions had, he said, been issued that bail should be taken for his appearance when called upon; and he had no doubt but within a short time the affair would be fully settled. The letter concluded with this comfortable assurance and seasonable admonition: “You may consider that you have got out of this serious scrape; but let it be a warning to you while you live how you choose your political associates. Even those, much less dangerous in appearance than the desperate plotters or the senseless dupes whom you have lately known, may lead you into much