the appointed hour Meara had his orders ready for him. He had two letters written, one to Norah's father as from a friend of his brother's at Rathkeale requesting him not to lose one moment in setting off for his residence it he expected to see him alive; the other was for Norah herself requesting an immediate interview at an ap pointed place. He directed the boy to call at daybreak; to state that he was directed not to lose one moment in delivering it; that he had travelled all night and never stopped on his way. As poor Jem was known about the country as a faithful messenger this account appeared the more probable, and the opening dawn of the morning saw the old man on his miserable back speeding towards Rathkeale. Having delivered his letter to Norah, Jem was directed to watch for Shane Buie and mislead him as much as possible as to the contents of the letter, as there could be no doubt that he would hasten after his uncle if he heard that his father was ill. That he should not learn any thing of the matter from the old man before his return Meara felt perfectly satisfied, for the miser would not run the risk of being requested, much less obliged to take him behind him on the horse.

As soon as the hour for meeting her lover approached, Norah left her father's bouse, but she had entered the Glen ere she could distinguish the awkward form of her cousin sloping along the brow of the common. Having turned aside to avoid discovery and taken a more chcuntous rout she left him to proceed on his way. When Sullivan drew near to his uncle's habitation he was met by poor Jem, who pretending not to see him was singing in a strain of cracked melody

"Wanst more agin

"I'll walk the gli

"In sarchov my own thrue love!"

Then coming ferward as if he had unexpectedly met Sullivan he pulled the forelock of his hair in token of respect and said "Morrow Misther! will yee's give us a halfpenny to buy marvels?"

"To be sure I will, Jemmy my boy, when you get me the thing you know! Did you find the mare's nest for me yet, Jenny "

"Be gannies, I was hunting for it all day Sunday, Sir, an' shure I seen the goolden eggs, Sir; an' whare does yer honour think I seen 'em ?"

"Where, Jemmy ""

"Jist whare yer honour's standing; afore Miss Norah Sullivan's door!"

"No! Jemmy; you're not in earnest;" said Sellivan, not perceiving the irony of the boy's remark.

"Iss, Sir; an' when I was running to tell yer honour, a fairy came an' whipt 'em all away from me so he did, for all the world like Capt. Meara; Iss, Sir; an" that's as thrue as the shione au' the hill bey aut."

"Hold your tongue you young natural;" teplied Sullivan, Bos advancing and knocking at the door.

"Arrah, Misther Sullivan, shure it's not going to buckwhisht in an impty house yees are this mornin! The ould daddy went off to Rathkeale wid miss Norah this mornin airly an' 's not to be back atore the day after to-morrow!"

"Is that the way with them!" he replied not a little disappointed; "and did the old man leave no message for me?"

"Sorra taste OV a word he said to me, Misther Sullivan; but will I run an' ax him? I'll not be a minnit !"

"Is it running to Rathkeale you're talking of, you fool! Hold your prate, and the skewer to you!"

"Will yees give us a halfpenny Sir!"

"I'll give you a kick in the backside, you nip; be off with yourself or I'll make a marvel of you to the world's end" so saying, the disappointed suitor turned from the door and sought his

home.

About a mile on the lower side of Glyn, by the river side is a small nook sheltered by willows and reeds which grow on the marshy banks that protect the inner fields. It was to this nook that Norah hastened to meet her lover, and here she found him waiting anxiously for her arrival.

"Well, Norah; so you're come at last!"

"I am, Mr. Ned; and now that I'm here what do you want with me, that made you send for me so early this morning?"

In a few words Meara told her of the occurrences of the past night and of his plans to frustrate, if possible, the intentions of Sullivan; she heard him with much attention and then said quietly, My father will be mad all out, when he comes home and finds that you have done it!"

"I intend sending Jemmy away for a few weeks, and then the old man will be foiled!"

"There is no use in it;" she replied: ""Tis more than likely that he has told it all before now; I saw Shane Buie going up to the house as I came down the glen, and I hid my self till he passed, to hinder his seeing me. Jemmy was then before him!"

"I know he was, Norah; for 1 desired him to wait for him and mislead him about his uncle!"

"Tis no use I tell you, Ned; Shane is too deep for the likes of him!"

"Well, Norah, what do you say now? Will you come with me, or wait until your father comes home and forces you to marry him ?"

Is it now you mean!"-said the girl, looking him full in his face while the crimson blush covered her checks and neck,

"Now, if you will, Norah! But if not now say when! Remem ber that Shane Baie will use every artifice to enrage your father and that he will most probably consent to your marriage at once!"

"Listen to me, Ned! I will not marry Shane Buie, if it was to cost me my life! and I will not go with you unless you have a priest to the fore!"

"And will you come with me, if I bring a priest to marry us? 1f I bring a priest to my own house, will you come then with

the and we shall be married ?"

"I will Ned, provided you promise me and swear to me by this cross" said she taking up too twigs from the ground and Ex. ing them in the shape of a crucifix; "that you will not ask me without you have a priest at the house before me!"

to go

Meara took the little crucifix and kissing it swore solemnly to the girl that it should be as she desired. Now, Norah dear! since I have sworn to this will you come to-night, and I can easily bring a priest from Askeaton to be there before you!"

to her

During this conversation, Norah trembled violently; and now that she had fully committed herself she was quite overwhelmed by her feeling and burst into a flood of tears. The prospect of leaving her father's house without his sanction and during his absence terrified her; while the prospect of being married cousin contrary to her will deprived her of the resolution she had formed of refusing a hasty marriage. At the same time the certainty as she thought of being secured to Meara as his wife and the hope that her father would afterwards consent to receive them; together with the escape from Shane Buie's solicitations were too much for her already tried heart, destitute as she was of friends to conBult with or to protect her. She cried bitterly for some time sitting on the bank and rocking herself mournfully from side to side with her face hid in her hands.

Wurrab sthrue, but 'tis I that's to be pitied this day without mother or sister or brother to speak to or advise with! Oh father dear, if you were the father to me that you ought to be, 'tis a happy girl I'd be this morning, and not going to leave you in this way; dear, dear, what will I do at all at all! My heart is breaking within me when 'tis singing I ought to be with the little birds in the glen if all was as it should be!"

So saying, Norah's tears flowed doubly fast and she wrung her hands in an agony of distraction. Meara tried to soothe her feelings, and after some time, partly thro' his assistance and partly from the exhausted state of her own feelings she gradually became more tranquil.

"There's no use in delaying what must be done before long,

Ned! So in the name of God let it be to-night. But I will not touch one farthing of the money!"

'Well! Norah, just as you please! To tell you the truth, [ do not see any harm, in a person's taking what is their own and. what must come to them sometime or other; but if you don't like to take it 'tis no matter. The only thing is that we'll want to give the priest a treat of something besides his dues and I have not got much money about me."

"Whisht Ned, whisht; say no more about it; I will not take the money, I will not rob my father and leave him pennyless and childless together; No, Ned say no more about it now."

"Very well; I will not; now about our meeting to-night; at what hour shall I go for;"

"Wanst morë agin

"I'll walk the glin

"In sarch of my own thrue love!" Said a voice.

Turning round they saw poor Jemmy worming his way through the sedges towards the spot where they were sitting.

"How now, Sirrah;" said Meara impatiently.

want here ?"

What do you

Stop Ned!" said Norah laying her hand upon his arm; may be he can tell us, what he said to Shane Buie! 'morrow Jemmy!"

"'Morrow misther-ma'm I mane !-Wanst more agin, I'll walk”Silence, Sirrah!" said Meara

of yours, or I'll give it a bath in

Stop that squeaking windpipe

the river that will moisten it to some purpose! did you see Mr. Sullivan ?"—"I did Sir!" "Well, what did he say to you?"

"We toult me, Sur, that he'd give me a half-penny to buy

marvels when he cum home!"

"Come home from where?-Where did he go to ?"

"He locked the dôôr an' put the kay in his pocket an' rode aff fair an' aisy !"

"You stupid dolt-'tis of Shane Buie I'm speaking! Did you-!" Stop Ned, leave the gorsoon to me! Did you see Shane, Jem

"

my ?"

"Did I see him is it? Iss ma'm!"

"Well, tell us what he said to you like a good boy and I'll give you a half-penny!"

Thank you Miss! He axed me, Sur:-no I axed him was he going to buckwhisht in an empty house; an' he then axed me whare you wor; an' I said, says I, the ould daddy is gone so Rakkeale, wid Miss Norah, this mornin' airly. Now Miss, will you give us the half-penny ?"

"Stop a while, Jemmy, 'till we're done; what did he say to you then? "He said that he would kick my backside, an' make a marvel ov me "What else did he say, Sirval," said Meara angrily.

"He said nothing ma'm-sur I mane!"

“Did you see him since, Jemmy! which way did he go when he left you?"

He went down the ghin Miss; an' I since seen him riding Mr. Moony's harse atther the ould daddy!”

"The devil you did!"-aid Meara so violently as to make poor Jemmy scamper off as fast as he could.

"Norah;" said he, after a moments deliberation, "Shane Bnie will overtake your father, and finding that you are not with him he will bring him back, especially as his not having received a message of his father's illness will look suspicious. There is only one thing for it and that is for to come home with me at once, and when I have left you there, I will go for the priest."

Alas poor Norah; surrounded by difficulties; already under the seductive mfluence of her lover's sophistry; and fearful of the effects of her father's anger, she thought of no alternative; so reluctantly following in his path they silently proceeded along the shore until they came within a mile of his house; when entering the skirt of Beechmount Copse, they traced their way unobserved to the residence of Edmund Meara, and Norah passed the threshold that led to ruin and to death. No marriage rites were confirmed by the blessing of the priest; nor could entreaty-resistance-or renewed supplication shake the purpose of her seducer. Edmund Meara had his prey within his grasp, and he possessed too little of either shame, compunction or fear to be induced by her remonstrances to relinquish it.

When old Sullivan returned and ascertained that his money was untouched, be at first gave way to the griefs which he really felt for the loss of his daughter's society. By degrees however he became reconciled to it and made up his mind to bear with her absence sooner than receive either her or him. Meara gave out through the village that they were privately married, and she was unwilling to circulate her own shame by contradicting the report. Still as the name of the priest who performed the ceremony was never stated, doubts were afloat among the neighbours which once or twice came bitterly to Norah's ears. In addition to this trouble she was just beginning to experience the sad consequences of her union with a man of his reprobate mind. Scarcely had four months elapsed ere he exhibited unequivocal signs of indifference, nay at times, of dislike. Often he would absent himself from her during the night and on his retmin avoid any allusion to the cause of her tears and the state of her health. Latterly she had ceased to press for a marriage thro' fear of rousing his anger; and by every gentle and affectionate means in her power she strove to make his home