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"Go back the way ye came," says the man again, with growing excitement. "This is no place for ye. There is ill luck in yonder house. His soul won't rest in peace, sent out of him like that. If ye go in now, ye'll be sorry for it. 'Tis a thing ye'll be thinkin' an' dhramin' of till you'll be wishin' the life out of yer cursed body!",

"Did she stop there?" he says: "that was unworthy of her. Breath for once must have failed her, as nothing so trivial as want of words could have influenced Miss Carson.",

Of Violet Mansergh—who is still at the Towers, her father being abroad and Lady Rodney very desirous of having her with her—she knows little. Violet is cold, but quite civil, as Englishwomen will be until they know you. She is, besides, somewhat prejudiced against Mona, because—being honest herself—she has believed all the false tales told her of the Irish girl. These silly tales, in spite of her belief in her own independence of thought, weigh upon her; and so she draws back from Mona, and speaks little to her, and then of only ordinary topics, while the poor child is pining for some woman to whom she can open her mind and whom she may count as an honest friend "For talking with a friend," says Addison, "is nothing else but thinking aloud.",

"You—will—say——" Here he breaks down ignominiously, and confesses by his inability to proceed that he doesn't in the least know what it is she can say.

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Yew-trees—grown till they form high walls—are cut and shaped in prim and perfect order, some like the walls of ancient Troy, some like steps of stairs. Little doors are opened through them, and passing in and out one walks on for a mile almost, until one loses one's way and grows puzzled how to extricate one's self from so charming a maze.,

She herself destroys it presently.,

"Oh! so you can ride, then," says Lauderdale, alluding probably to the cause of his late merriment.,

"Show Mr. Rodney in here, Bridget," says Mona unflinchingly, not looking at the distressed maid, or indeed at anything but the unobservant butter. And Bridget, with a sigh that strongly resembles the snort of a war-horse, ushers Mr. Rodney into the dairy.