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wW ORTLAW . SIRDAr, AUGUST 1e It e. CASTLE DALY: re Story of an Irish Home Thirty Years Ago. (Coastaeud.) Ellen bad a severe remonstrance reedy, but when Connor emerged from the blsoknese at the end of the cave-hib merry face looking oat of the folds of the old cloak still wrapped round his bead-ber anger vanshed ; she had mothlig to say as she threw her arms round hie eek but "Oh, Connor, Connor, bow could yeo do it " "How could I do what t Play such a nice game at bide-and-seek with you, Eileen aroon, e my bi tbday I" *'Little enough I came into your hoogbte. Have you frightened Leabia out of her wr a " SNot at all, it was thinking too much of me the darling girl was, to be sarprised t see me; I have made her own it. Was she to keep my birthday, and I not to appar out of the earth by magic to.tbank her 1" "If she were the same little Bab t:e sbe was last year, and not a great heiress, and if we did not owe so muooch to her brother, I would not mind your nonsensical wooinog; but as it is-don't hate me, Conneor dear-I shall be obliged to warn Mr. Tbornley, if you hang about her and try ti get round her in seoret ways. I cannot let him go away to England sad leave Leebla under our care, unless you permise to keep out of the way." "He is going away to England! Hurrah! Once let is get rid of his meddling bands and prying eyes, and we'll do some good here, D'Aroy and I." "Bot I shall warn him of your doings with Leable, and he'll stay." "You have not the heart. Think what I'll do for the cause if I get her and her thousands to help us." "It would be bsae. Ask your friend what he would think of such conduct." "Ask him I will, and welcome; he's too stanch to stick at anything that would help on the cause. Would you have him weigh the good of the country against a dirty bit of money of anyone's I" "Well, I have warned 3on; and now I must go. Mr. Thoroley will be back and miss me." "Bow cleverly you got rid of him. I heard it all from behind the wall, and did not I tin fle with impatience till Pelham wss fairly off? twas awkward your bringing him here to-day. He possibly might have taken it into his head to refresh his memory with a look round, and if be had put his head in here, would not he have got even a bigger fright than he bad when he fits; made acquaintance with the place I" "Was Pelham ever here I" "Have you forgotten Liotor I Tris is D1n nla' old still; and here, just where you are standing, was where Liotor was shot." "I hate to think of It, Connor; it seems as if that was the beginning of all our troubles." "It can't be helped now. Come on. I'll take yon round the edge of the hill. If Mr. Thorn. is there, be won't know me from an old woman, with the cloak round my head, and I'll answer for little Lesbia having presence of mind to toss me a halfpenny." "As they left the shed, Ellen shook hands with D'Aroy. "I am glad to have seen you, cousin," she said. "And I you, if we never meet again. 1 have too few belonging to me not to value every chance of changing mty dreams of teem to remembrances, above anything else that concerns myself." "There, what do you think of him t" cried Connor, triumphantly, when they had emerged into daylight again. "I like him. I see what you mean about his having power 'to draw all creatures living under the sun. after him, so as you never saw,' Sliete ito ý '-. . .---- - "And he'll do it t, some purpose one day, Eileen aroon: it was quite as much to show him to you as to speak with Lebiae, that I wiled you in there. Is not he glorious? I should like Cousin Anne to see him." "Why can't you both go like Christians and stay with Cousin Anne, instead of inrking in eaves and der a of the earth like " "Patriots as we are. No, no; we have too much conscience to involve Cousin Anne unbe k/ nown to herself in our lawless doings ; but, Ellen, he wants beyond anything to see the inside of Castle Daly. His mother need t , talk to him abJnt the place when he was a little lad in the wilds of America, and he thinks all the world of It. I have promised he shall at least see our old schoolroom, and the black framed likeness of aunt Ellen that banu s over the ohhnus'ey-piece." "Impossible, Connor ; you could not take him secretly to the Thorole) s' house." "Could not I What do you say to my hav ing found the key to the little door to the north turret, convenient in t;Ie pocket of an old coat the very day I left Dublin ? I have been in and o.' that way often enough to know it, I suppose." "But the roans are altered; the north wing Is seldem need, and thedoor of contumnictaton at the head of the turret it airs is genirally looked." "It will be open, you'll see, on thl night we pay you a visit, wbeu you'll lave the little trifle of noney we spoke about ready for me. I can't possibly got back t Dublin without it, I assure yon." "Connor, I can't let you drawr Lisbia into deceit." ' Give me credit for a grain of conscience, at least; we are not so 1 dly t It for f,,llowere I''at we need enlist her little frightened witsit, , our service. I hitter nmyself that I';t re are servants in Castle l)ly still that wouil do a good deal more for me tian for their raster. Ask Miss Maynard shere she think- the hticll bunch of forget-metnots sue fouuld iu her dressing-table this morning came fr,m,." "Connor, it's too bad. I believe its all j Lke with you. I quarrelled with Mr. Tl'irili'y a few utinnt ±s go for accrsing os tf playing at rebellion; but I do think in's nothing tn ut play with you." 'Well--hc--the fellow in there, has grim earnest for t je two of us; and for the rett, don't be rash. 8ome day, perhaps, when the opportunity comen, you'll see whether it'r most earnest or play with me. I don't think I'll be the worse for getting all the fun I cen oct of what comes in my way now. it's little enough pleasure there is in life this year for any one. There, put your lont on my knee for the last scramble up the cliffs and over the wall. And now I'd better vanish, but don't be too downo bhearted. You have not seen quite the last of me." He disappeared for an instant, but before El len had gone many steps fotrward down the slope of the hill, hble head wrapped in the old cloak again emerged from the shelter of the wall, and be called her back tt whisper, ' Remem ber, she believes firmly that I came all tbhe way from Dublin for the sake of seeing her for ten minutes on my birthday; and if you undeceive her you'll make me no bettor than a spy and an informer, and drive me to hang myself. I've warned yoo fairly." Ellen found Lebia still oocuopying the pre. ocei spot where she had left her, and looking as demore as if she had been employed the whole time of her absence in gathering sprays of sundew, and spreading oat the little rayed dises, on her hand as she was doing then. "Did youo-did yon dnd the preon you theght would give ye. se of Ooanor ? she asked, p .eia up Jt Rlss'. face II spite of featr v tloon, and anxlety, Eln old n elp buntsg out Into a hearty Inuh. "Babette, at least you and I need not huom bog easoh other. I want to tell you how sorry I am that Conneor should have been so silly and taken eauh a liberty with yen." "I suppose it was silly such a waste of time, wben be ought to have been studying, Bride and John would be very much annoyed if they knew; they would never think I was safe agaln,." "Nobody ovpg.ls angry with Connor, but he really deserves their anget and yours. "Of cour.e I am very angry. Yet perhaps one an bhardly call It a liberty. It wasa long journey to takeoust for the chansoe of seeing one for a few mlnutes. I don't think I ever heard of snob a thing being done for any one before-did you I' "Only a wild boy like Connuor would be so foolish; it is net worth thinking about." "Oh, I shall certainly not think of it again, nor mention it ti John and Bride. It is bet ter not to make them anxious-don't you think so I" "Of course, I had rather not have my brother's folly exposed; but you must do as you think right, Leabia; I dare not ask you not to tell." "One does not like every little thing that happet a to one to be thought of consequence. Jost because one happens t, be an heiress," said Lesbia, pouting a little. "It would be nothing to me, if it were not my brother Connor, for whom I always feel responsible." said Ellen. "Ah, well, let us clamber down into the road, and set out to meet John., and think no more about it. You will not tell your brother Pel ham; he must not know, of course. Bat-bnt I wonder what be would think if he heard that anybody, say the silliest person in the world, had t-avelled right across Ireland just to speak to poor little me, on his birthday. Be would wonder that anyone should think at worth while, would not he f" "I am sure I don't know. We had better walk on and hasten Mr. Thornley's move ments Look at the length of our shadows, it must be very late; Pelbam will be tired of waiting for us at the landing place." When John appeared at last, he had to con fess to having managed to sprain his ankle badly in leaping back to the shore of the lake from the island of waterlilies. He brought a large cluster of buds and flowers, but it only needed a glance in his face to see that the re turn walk along the rough road wiith the in jured ankle had been a severe struggle. Lea bia's flushed cheeks escaped notice under cover of concern at her brother's accident; and during the next uncomfortable hour-while John Thornley limped along the road, frown ing with pain and making strenuous efforts to keep op cheerful conversation with his coom panions, which neither of them could second Ellen was brought to reproach herself for a feeling of relief that had come to her on her first sight of Mr. Thornley's condition. She began to be sorry for his sufferings, though she could not help still hugging the thought that now at least for some days to come Con nor and his friend would be safe from observa tion of the keenest-witted person in the neigh borhood, and that her diffiloolty about acept ing the charge of Leebia might now be left to settle itself. It was a real relief at last when the boat was reached and Mr. Thornley subsided into a seat and allowed that be did not think be could have held on many minutes longer. He was quite beyond talking when the necessity for exec t on was over, and lay back faint and pale, while Ldebla eat by him and sprinkled him with water, and Ellen and Pelham took the oars. The sun had reached his point of disappear ance behind Lao y-Core by the time they en tered the lake ; the little island. with its ivy draped ruin, that, seen in sunshine from the hill had glowed like an emerald in its setting of opal water, looked dark and imposing now in deep shadow. The eastern distance lay painted in every delicate tint, from intense purple to softest lilac and grey-blue ; the bare tops of the Maam Torts, with the son behind them, stood out against a cloudless sky in a wondrous haze of crimson fire, their rough ont lines softened and clothed with a marvellous tke fond d to theamoss. phere and the hour. Mr. Thornley dragged himself up from the recumbent position which Leebia had enjoined on him, to etr y the scene. G'lamonr, is it not t" he said, smiling to Ellen. "One would think oneself sailing straight to the fortunate inlts to live on lot e fruit in peace forever. Who would think it was all bog and rock, and swamp and water?" "And famine and strife and woe I" Ellen cootloned to herself. "And ohl were the high hopes and the generocs purposes glamour t o I" CIAI'TER XXV'III. 'She loverr yen, thee i One it ish , f hope burst : ihin succeed night, Atn ari's at darkest now. Impoelble.'" C,.lo,nbl' B.irttda1, Mr. Thornley's accident bronught precisely the resolt Ellen bad foreseen. The proposed journey to London had to be put, off, and t> give himself a chtance of undertaking it before the spring was quite over, he had to submit to lie up and abstain from all use of the In jored ankle fur man:v da:ys. Nothing was heard of Connor, and Ellen ceased to start as unexpected sounds, and began to look eagerly for letters iu the hope of seeing Counor' hand writing on an envolope stamipedl ' D.b'in" again. The days f Mr. Thornley's captivity were decidedly pleasant days t j everyone in the hones. Alter I aperienuoug one or two of them, Ellen underet'..d the complacency with which Bride Thoroley congratulated herself on being bound to a brother who knew how to stay in the house reaeouably, and conld be cut fi from his ordinary occupations 'itltout making himself ando everybody sear hue, miserable. During the press of the sorrow fat business of the past winter, some literrary work, in which Jo'n Tbhornley had previo:bly ,ben nnuch interet 'd, and had to be laid aside, and now he and Bride turned Ick to it with a zeal that smetniaes cetIried Elle.n's suipathies with theire, ht:.! r,~tetines left iher (4she n t being of the ~iie.ut i l tHudentot uatiurel lost in astunatlhllmet :at the:r power of abhtrat lin frowm litre~ent ilnter n e..SI-e sat once or twice tarongh an hlunr or two of a rainy af:ernoon, listening t i their eaCer die cousaione in aluiot abeolute sileuce, while wonder grew ini her mind, till it was almset indignation, at the eight of two thoughtful people occup) iug themselves, while asuftlering such as she knew of was going on all around, with discuscions as to the relative merit of Charles Lamb's and Addison's etyles of essy writing; the setret cause of Dean Swift's me lancholy ; or even the shabare which IBonsse~n's dreams of the perfectibllity of human neture had had in bringilng about the reckless diseo gard of individual human life which marked the first French Revolution. She thought the talk even more heartless when, instead of for getting the present tiome, they spoke eagerly of it for the lake of searchlog out analogies to its woes in past periods of history ; Bitting cause and effeot, and probable remote conse quenees, with a stisfactiou in the complete ness of the chain of reasoning that made them appear like dieseetors calmly gathering knowl edge from the throes of a living subject Then the recollection of a facsoe writt in over with deep lines of indignation and pity; of a few words. lately heard, breathing restless impa tienoe of wrong, came back to her with a glow ol sympathetio approval and content. Surely it was nobler to grow wild with paln at the sight of a great calamity, and spend oneself in frantic efforts to arrest its progress, than to be able to stand aside and chronicle the death throes and photograph the riotlm's glazing eyes, and speulate pbhilosophloally on what was to come when the agony had passed. Os*e or twlee John divised by She eprss ee a ws taken, and when his and Bride's argements oame t, an end, he tried a little weistflly t draw out an expresslon of opinion from her, and gain an oppostonity of setting himself right in bher eyes. Then the conversation was apt to take a plunge into depths of metaphy ales, where the three sometibnes found. stand ing ground whence they could get glimpee of eahob other' points or view concerning the practical matters they seemed to have left far behind them. John would seknowledge the hardeing effeet on obaraeter of looking at lif obiefly from the inolleotual side, and con fee that even in great questions, of politics or eoolology, the want of due appreciation of the subtler emotions sad spiritdal souroes of individual and national life was a fatal hin drance to penetrating to the truth of things, and cansed the caloulations of the science that takes note only of tangible reenlte to prove it self folly when tated by experience. Bride, following her brother's lead, would bring ex amples from history of great result which had sprung from some unpremeditated word or deed of generous enthusiasm, or divine folly of self-sacrifice. Then Ellen listened complacently again, thinking of an enthusiasm which they had pronounced folly a few mine ntee before, bet which might yet prove itself to be the very conduot they were now admir ing. One or two rainy afternoons spent in s3oh talk had the effect of years of ordinary itteroourserin making the sharere in it known to each other. Ellen fell into a habit of refer ring in thought to the brother's and sister's standard on all occaseions when a judgment had t he formed, and began to feel as if she had spent half a lifetime in their company in stead of a few days. The last piece of literary work Mr. Thornley undertook during his imprisonment was an eessy on the poetry of Young Ireland. It grew from his having t, listen to numerous quotations from the poems of C Onnor's friends, which had served Ellen for arguments in their politioal disonussions. At his request she brought out her store of ballads out from the N4ation newspaper. And t> secure thatjostioe should be done to the merits of the verpee, she undertook to read them aloud herself. "Who is vt that signs himself 'D'Arcy'?" asked Bride, looking over Ellen's shoulder, as she finished a poem whiobh bad called out all her powers of effective reading; ' there is surely something of the true ring about his verses; and how well Ellen always reads them " "Give the paper to me. I shall better know what the poem is worth when I read it to my self-" Jobhn said, stretching out his hand for the newspaper Ellen held. She looked up suddenly, and saw an expres sion of kesn anxiety in the eyes that, unknown to her, had been stadying her face as she read, and she could not help starting and coloring violently. She had quite forgotten where she was; the lighted drawing room had faded away from before her eyes as she spoke the words, and she had been seeing the turf shieling under the bill, and the dosty snnrays streaming through a chink in its roof odtt a face that, now she had once seen it, seemed to furnish- a comment on the words she was repeating. It was startling to .be called back to her preset t surrounding by the consciousness that her thoughts were being guessed at by some one near; and she was angry. with herself for the agitation that would Increase the more she thought sabot it, as if she had been guilty of betraying a secret. Mr. Tboraley withdrew his eyes from her face : but as bJe falded and rustled the paper, she heard a quick impst!eot sigh. Bride had mea wbhile taken up a sheet that Ellen had laid aside a few'minutes before, and was busy with it. "Surely there is unnsual power of pictur esque desoription here too. John, just listen to the first verse again "'Lon, long ao. hebad the misty space Of twice a thouena years. In Erin old there dwelt a mighty race Taller th. n Roman spears. Like oaks and towers, they had a giant grace, Were fleet as deer, With woods and waves they maE'e their hiding-place, These western shepherd seers.' SuBoob pictures in a few words one does not often get from an unknown young poet." "How do on know he is young t-that strikes m.- as practised wrlt g--.. "le is young," said Ellen. "'The author of those verses is also a friend of Connor's He began to write very early, I have heard. He was thrown on his own resources when he was almost a child, and was editing a paper in America at eighteen. He is sub editor of the Nation no Ax." "And a hero in your eyes, I perceive," said John. "Other people have bad t o provide for them selves at eighteen, and fir their brothers and sisters too, without anyone taking them for heroes," said Bride, looking at her brother. 'That has nothing whatever to do with what we are talking about," answered John, sharply, and evidently annoyed. "Let me have all the newspapers. I will "look over Young Ireland's effasions at my leisoro, and see what I can make of them. Two of the poets are at least worth demolishing." Ellen, who had now recovered her self pos seesion, p ooeded to collect the newspapers, and arrange them asooording t, date. "'I hope I have not done the Young Ireland poste any harm by reading their verses aloud," se said. "I want you to write a good review. I know they feel it hard that no one in England takes any notoe of what they writ, let it be ever so powerful. It is like sounding a trumpet to deaf people. PerhaI s you might act as a sort of cood ctor, and carry the soonds into an at norphere that will reaoh more ears." "I will write my beet after that," said John, with a glow on hin pale face; "and as for your rending. I was thiniog, just as you epoke, that . I were dead, and you were to cone and read verses of mine over my grave as you have r' ad those, the sound would stir the fr . " , blo,,d about my heart, and call me bick to life an~in. It w-nold be enougi, I ehotid tay, to ,atiefy any pcet's au.mbion to hear y on read 1 I, verses occe." "I t oink .e , t.i I, ter op-u the window to let o t, I -- ., 'toteal till ttus," remarked Bride dr3l . "Tt- r om is so full of exaggerrtion it i g.a*,tegto our betads." ' , t irtto , ic:," 'coaid E len, laughing. "I knw tell l otlgh that nothing will ever eati fy Ce n'.,'' ambittion but a paragraph of oiiit! lt tet IpAiee inl a ,Uarte ly 1ctriei, and it is Mr. T'ooiniey, not i, who can give Lim th at." For the Itext day or two, Mr. Thornley shut himself iuto his study to wrte, and as Bride was occupied w'to preparations for the jour ney to London. which wes fixed for the end of the week, Ellen spent her time with Lesbia among her old baunts on the hills and lake. 8ometimes Pelham accompanied them in their walks; and sometimes Mrs. Daly was per suasded to take a seat in a boat, or to share a drive, and in her company Lesbia was always her beet and sweetest self, not the shy shrink ing Babette of Whiteoliffa days, nor yet the self-conscious heiress, who aired little whims and graes t1 the annoyance of John and Bride, but a pleasant mixture of coaxing sweetness and pretty deferenoe that exactly bit M's. Daly's requirements in a companion oand brccght out Pelham's conversationsl powers to snoh an extent that Ellen found herself at liberty to follow out her own thoughti undisturbed. She was not sorry to be hI f. to herself. Jnst for those days, under neath all the anxiety that possessed her there was a glow of renewed hope and oonaidence that colored her musings with a brighter tint than they had known for many a day. It star tied her, as falling in curiously with the cur. rent of her thoughts, when one afternoon, Pelham, detaloingher for a few minues' con versation In the garden, a tsr Lsbla bad gone into the beomse, began hile communications by akluag l ra ne tone- --trs viM meaote do youa appose lhes. account, and make :such acrifies as he dose to help u I Sb had been dependlng on his help; but it had not occurred to her to question the motive for its being so freely given, till Pelham put it to her. "Do you mean anythlng fresh "sbhe asked, remembering, after a minate's thought, that the service bshe was most counting on joust now could act have entered into Pelham's calculations, "Every day brings something fresh: and as I have no one to conelt but you, I want you to help me to consider whether we are not letting ourselves be bound by greater obll gations than it is right for as to accept frim anyone" "Dear Pelham, how kind of yeo to consult me I" said Ellen stroking the arm she bela fondly, and looking up intp his faee with as much gratitude as if he had offered her a crown. Pelham was touched. "I am sure I don't want to keep you out of my oo denoe,s he said, a little bhskily. "I am lowly enough, and we three ought to hold togeh er, for we have not much else but each other to hold on to. If I have net consulted you and Connor hither to, it is because you always seem to be looking so far ahead that you have no attention for what is paseing. "You shall always flod us ready to attend to whatever occupies you for the future. We will make a triple alliance, dear Pelham-so close, that neither Pelham Court, Pelhams' nor Thornleys shall ever come between aus again." "There is no need to guard against Pelham Court interference now, Ellen. My chief an noyance is the cool way in whiob Uncle Charles hands over our affeirs t John Toornley, leavr ing him to meet all difficulties as they arise in the beet way he can. As long as our mis fortune seemed manageable, Uncle Charles was ready enough to help, but now that it has passed beyond his experience, he refcses t3 be lieve in it-be turns his back upon us, and leaves things to take their course." "If Mr. Thornley had done the same i" "We should have been ruined as utterly as any of the poor wretches who are turned out of their little holdings to earn enough Indian meal on the public works to keep themselves from starving. Ellen, you and I are almost, if not quite, as truly beggars, living this year on charlty, as that gang of men with pickaxes over their shoulders who are crawling miser ably past our gets Jost now. I am sorry to startle you, dear, by saying such a thing, but it is true." '"But why is it. so How have things grown so bad with nef" "The famine. There has not been a shilling of rent paid this year on the estate, and will not be; yet the interest on the mortgages has to be made up. The holders are ready to come down on os at the first failure, and are only held off by the remittances John Thornley pays out of his own pocket." "But is he so rich t I thought it was Lesbia whe had all the money." "He had a legacy-and he calls paying our debts speoulatiog with his fortune, and says he has a right to do what he pleases with his own." "Then we are actually depending on him I" 'The rent paid for the Castle has been our chief resource through the winter; but what a transparent pretence it is-their choosing to rent it from as this year. The old residents are flying the country as if it were plague stricken, as indeed it is-and they stay on. It must be for our sakes ; but why I want you to help me to solve the puazzle and consider whether we can continue to accept his charity!" "You expected Uncle Charles to do more for no t" "I think he might take a little more trouble. I think he might be kinder to my mother and you, and offer you a home, instead of leaving you to be obliged to comparative strangers for a shelter." "Pelham, dear, you make me feel very guilty when you say that. There is something to be said in excuse for Uncle Charles, and I have only been waiting for a good opportunity to tell you. I bhad another letter from Marma duke just before we came here." "And you have answered it t" "Yes; mamma was very kind, and told me what-pleased-a-ndif y be as good to me, Pelham, and ty not to blame me more than you can help, for keeping mamma out of her old home-I will be s. grateful to you." "I can be sorry for your decision without blaming you. You have a right to choose for yourself; but I have always thought Marina. duke a very good fellow, and that you were lookv to please him." "Yes, I know everyJne thought so-certainly everyone at Pelham Court-and that would not have made it easier for me to go there as Marmaduke's wife. I shoould nrt have gone only to him, but to them all. It would nave been j ist the same with me as when I stayed there three years ago; and Pelham, I don't think I could condemn myself to carry snobh a sore, angry heart to the end of my life as I bad then, They di n. t mean to hout me, but their way of treating me as altogether different from themselves crept out at every other word. They were always telling me bow Irish I was. It was Irish exaggeration, Irish blundering, Ir'sb romance, whenever I spoke a word that came frt sh from my head or warm out of my heart. Yet, for mamma's sake, and to satisfy you, I thick I could have borne it al', in any other way than just the way Marina doke wanted. That would not have te,n honest. lie likes me as I am, poor fellow, and would have expected me to go on being myself in spite of them all, and I am not strong enough. IIe would have been disappointed, just as Connor and I used to be disappointed in ou:r b.tterfly chts e, when we closed our hands on a purple emperor, and found, on opening them, tLat there was nithing inside but broken wings and dust. Don't you think that there is truth in what I say, Pelbam, dear You'd like me to be true, above ail, wooull you not I" "Yes," said Pelham, deliberately, aft3r a oneoilet'bi'eunce ; "J ou are quite right, Elle: and whatever trouble is betore us, I promise never to reproach Joo with what you have thrown away. I know more about it than you suppose. You are not the only one of us who has felt cut of place at Pelbarn Court. I have not forgotten what I octl'ered when I first went t s live there as a little fellow, and they usneed to show me like a coriosity to their friends, as their cousin from Connaught, and wonder, be fore my face, that I had not higher spirits, and did not make Irish bulls. I used to vow to myself recver to speak an unnecessary word. If I am a dull, reserved fellow now, yon must puot it down to the training in silence I had then. After all, I am afraid sometimes that I am as Irish at heart as any of you-if feeling a great deal more than is convenient makes me so." "Oh, Pelham, thank you for saying that! Now we are real brother and sister." "But, whatever I mi at the core, I keep the horror that grew up with me of acting so as to draw on myself the charges usoally brought against Irishmen. Conduct that, under certain olroomstances, I might have been capable of, becomes impossible to me when I remember the contsmpt I have heard poured on it at Pelham Court as the usual resouroe of a broken-down Irish gentleman." "Bat what conduct 7" "Roined Irishmen are always said at Pelham Court to mend their fortones by marrying heireses." "Mamma was not an heiress-they cannot say that of----" 'No, no f-and yet you must have ncticed the pitying tone in which they always speak of our mother there, is if she had, if not de graded, at leaset done very badly for herself in marrTing an Irishman." "Why do you reeal that now 7" "To a yen back to the question we began "You are tbinking of Connor and Leebia." ' Of Connor I On no, he never wase n ear nest." "Jest and earnest are so mixed up tegether in Connor, one oannot say. It would nct have been another person's earness, but I believe it was his." "The worst for us all. There is no use in shutting our em to faots. Day by day we are sainking lowwr and lower, and every step down brings with it another link in the chain of obligation to the people who any day may possess themselves of all we are losing. Do yon think John Thornley'e'lindness is meant in any way to lay an obligation on me not to try-not to win--lin short, las he, do you think, the Pelham Court noWion of an Irisb man's method of repairing his broken fortunes t and does be intend by every service he forces on us to show me that it would be treachery in me to-the thought is intolerable His mea log or not meaning it changes nothing In the fo-ts-but I oould not bear to be taking bribes; to feel that it was eb:igation, not my own sense of honor alone, that g,'arded every woid and look." "My poor Pelham ! how I wish it was not such deep earnest with you." "I can't understand such a thing being at all, if it is not earnest. Of course I know per feotly well that there is to be no end ti it. Let the worst fortune come that can come, I will never be the seedy Irishman that worms himself into idle comfort again through a wo man's good will, nor shall Connor so degrade himself, if I cnn prevent it." ''And sapprse poor little Lesbia should love the one or the other of you '" "You have no reason to think she does." "I do not say I have; and at all events, Pal ham, no one can accuse you of giving her the opportunity. The ' Cadet dejColobriere' him self-who, by the way, now I come to think of it, is Lesbia's favorite romance-hero Just at present-was not more farouce than you are." "I don't want to make a bear of myself. I am not anch an idict as to think there is any need. I only grow savage when this question of the motive ef John Thornley's kindness puzzles me; and his favors begin to look like bribes." "His kindness has never astonished or puz zled me. I know quite well that he feels as if he could never do enough fir as, and that all he has belongs more to us than to himself. Toough he is so much more your friend than mine, I underatand him better than you do, and give him;eredit for higher motives. It has not anything to do with you and Leebia. All his conduct to us is influenced by-just that night-yen know what I mean. Our father died in his place; and when he took him out of my arms, I believe he felt as if he took upon himself all the care for us that our father would have had. I don't think you need scruple to accept any service from him: it comes to him as duty with t'e life that, but for our father's generos'ty, would have ended that night." " But he Las never said a word of the kind I should not think he is at all the soft of man to have such a romantio idea of duty. ton know they would call it so at Pelham Court. They would put that down as one of your seno timental Irish ideas, and scout the possibility of its influenclng Uncle Charles' model man of business, John Tnornley." "Then they don't know him as well as I do. Sentimental or not, the thought did not come out of my mind at all. I have read it in his face a dozen times. Some faces have snobh a great deal in them: and do you know, Pelham, I begin to think it is the plain faces that bear best to be looked at, and are the beautiful ones after all. Yes, I know it is an Irish bull ; but I mean exactly what I say. I at ed to call Misse Thoruley and her brother plain, bat since I have been here I have seen looks on their faces that are beyond an3thing for what they tell you." "Whatever Thornley's motives may be, my position of dependence on him remains the same; and you can't wonder at my finding it galling, and longing to esosape somehow. If only I were not snoch a fooll-if I could do any thing I" "It seems to me that you are doing a great deal. Let us, just fir argument's sake, suppose that all the Daly estates had passed into the Thornless' hands, that they were ownernd thegento would still be working and earning what you receive. "About a tenth part-for my work is not worth much. I am only learning. The rest of our income would be charity, and is." "You are so resolutely sensible, dear Pel ham, you won't let the least little touch of illusion onme in to hide the ugly bare outlines of fact. That is Pelham Court training, and it does make things hard for you." "At the best it is d fihuit to accept obliga tions gracefully, and not let them make one feel mean." "There are plenty of people have to do it this year. What we feel about the Thornley's bounty is only a twinge of the great pain all Ireland is feeling at having to take relief frtn England. There are some who can't b ar it at all, who are j2st driven wild with the shame of having to be fed by the hands that have oppressed and robbed us hitherto. They think it would be b t-er to break loose before the new chains are bound round us, and die free. You can unoderstand their feealing for the nation what you feel for yourself, can 5 on not, Pelham dear I "'I can understand it and blame it, too. I don't mean to encrage myself in bitterness, however great the temptati.n may be. When things are at the blackest, and one's way hard est to se'. what is the use of raising more mist, Wh, t aer it is hope or sauer that cre ates them, they can only bewilder. Let us do our best in our extremity to see clearly and walk straight." "I shall have a chance of growirg wise, now you take me in hand. We must indeed help each other, Pelbhan, for we have a great deal t > bear. How pret:y the village looks from bete-tho freshly white-washed cabins, the broad road overhanging the water, and the green shoie of the lake! Who would think there was sarrow and death in itt Pelhanm, since we ;inet leave all this, and leave it spoilt and sad, I am glad that you have not often been here; that your life has not struck such deep roots abaut the place as mine and Connor's." "I don't know. Som.times I think I shall feel the break-up mere than either £ f 3ou. I shall always be a irry that I did not care for the poor old place while it was ours." Joest then the bll for the Angelus from the little white-washed chapel in the village saunded. l len clasped her hands round her brother's arm, and held him motionless and silent where they were standing for a moment or two. "Just think," she said. when they turned again towards the honee, "what a great cry of anguish went up to-night from all Ireland wirh the Angelus bell: 'Pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death I' and the hour of death so near to thousands every where throughout the land now. As I stood still thet moment I ooold almost believe that I felt and heard the great throb and cry for help go pulsing up to the throne ef God. We must comfort ourselves by remembering that He heard it surely." An expression of reverent gravity remained on Ellen's face tell she had parted from Pelbham in the hall and mounted the first flight of the etsircase on her way to her mother's room, end then, at a sudden thought, she turned and ran back to him in one of those rapid changes of mood that were so incompreheonslble to him. Resting both hands on his shoulders, she look ed smilingly so his face "'Now, my dear Cadet de Colobriere-no. Aloe de Daly, I mean "-she said, "I am not coming down to dinner to day; mamma is tired, and I am going ti make tea for her in her room, and I lay a solemn charge on you not to befaoucet. I as3re you, on my honor, that the commooplaceu talking ladividal is tbe least eaages ohe imwo, *ae tS1a& - soleuoe imposes Upon ou to be eztb .ol agremeble, and to ma e tbe vealfoi in m anoe a leOsare nstead of a wea siness too bhs's. orw, attend, and I shall take measl t learn bow you conduoot yourself." S (To boo ctlnued.) ^ Por parioolars regarding Electrio Belts, a dres 'Pualvermaehar Glvanlte ompany." Cae at. Ohio. i ISCELLANEOUS. s REMOVAL. ALBER T G. BLANCHRD, Civil Engineer and Deputy Surveyor, r Has removed his oeo sand residence to NIO. 939 MAGAZINE STREET, corner of Dslachais street. one square above LonuL His downtown office is in the Mechasles' Ixchsa ui dnr the et. ChalesBotel-addres Box Sl. Liees and levels alven in any art of the olty. P and estimetes to order. Jy. FROM AND AFTER THIS DATE, MR . A MADDEN has an interest in my business. styls firm H. T. LAWLER & CO. July 1. 107 H.T. LAWLL J. H. KELLER, * .UrACrTe.. of n(O GsAnarcf " CASTDBUUR~ ALL KINDS OF LAUNDRY AND TOILET 6SOi KELLER'S FAMOUS CARBOLIC SOAP je30 ly For Cleansing and Disinfeoting Purposes p. A. MURRAY, CIBTERB NMAKER, No. 191 Magazine Street. ALL WORK WARRANTED. A lot of Cypress CISTERNS, fe 1005 to 20,000 gallons capacity, miad. the beet material and workmnsh kept constantly on hand. and for l at PRICES CHEAPER THAN TBi CHEAPEST. Highest Fremiume awarded ast b tO last LouLisana State Farin ands the Southern btates Agrilurul m Industrial Exposition of 186. All kinds of Cisterns made and r paired. SEND FOR PRICE LISTS. apT7 8 P. CALLFBY. T. CAR.T. C. PIEr, CALLERY & CO., PELICAN ODORLESS APPABARIh For Emptying Vaults. WORK DONE CLEAN AND NEAT-ORABO REASOJABLE. Particular attention paid to Repairing and Cementin Vaults. Orders left at any ef the following places will receive prompt attention: 28............Commercial Place ............ 23 Betwoen Camp and St. Charlse streets, 226......-....Josephine Street - .. ....... Betwoen Constance and Megazine, 87 FRENCHMEN STREET, Third District Box 57 Mechanics' Exchange, under St. Charles Hotel. Price Lists can be seen at any of the above plore Our motto, good satiesfaetion or no oharge. fell ly OFFICE OF THE AMERICAN COTTON TIE CO., LIMITED, GO..,w.,....iarondelet Street ........ Nrw ORLEANS. IMPORTANT SPECIAL NOTICE. The AMERICAN COTTON TIE COMPAIr (LIMITED) having fixed the proice of the celebrel ARROW COTTON TIE at 2 50 per bundle, lees 21 per cent dlcount fore the General Agents hereby authorize their Sub-AgesS in this city (dealers tI Baling Stuff") to sell to i contract with Factors and Country Merhlants. 0 future delivery on the above-named prloe and term in quantites, from time to time, as may berequinh settlementa being made on delivery. The Company having a large stock nowon handi having contracted for an abundant oupply to meets entire demand for Cotton Tree throughout the Clii States. the celebrated aRROW TIE will be plus upon the market gernerally. and sold by their n al Agents at the price and terms above r sated. it bll the object and purpoeo of the Company to r.eriiil continued patronage of the planting commnulty. R. W. RAYIE & CO., autl 77 ly GENERAL AOENTS. JOIIN G. ROCHE, 250 and 22.... Magazine Street....250and arear Delord. UNDER TAKRI AND EWBALMOR All businese entrusttd to my care mill receivp and careful attention at moderate rats. COARRIAGES TiO HIlRE5 309lt ANDREW LEO, CARPENTER AND BUILDER, OICE0 AND ei1OP, 459 Magazine Street. near Race. Al orders left there orat Box 94 Mechal lca' ndDeal Exchange, Oravier and St. Charles streets, wllhb& usual, promptlry attended to. n04 palase . olod.W nee.ri. "co $1200 PSa_. R........ . x, pno ar Peal. s s.crek O 1. Odd... C A. NT __?2 4, OTH S Items... CtsaioaLD i $3o GOLD PLAYED WATCG. Cherys os.nt8 Adre.sA 8. CanU s: ow GRAND OPENING Largest Stock EVER EXiIBITED IO NEW -