their hiding-place. I have heard it said that they steal away the children of wealthy parents, that they may exact a ransom. Sometimes I obtain glimpses of them from my chamber-window, prowling about in the night; but they have never offered to molest us."

We finally reached Dame Lawler's cottage without being disturbed, and found her standing in the door, looking anxiously for our return.

"A pretty couple you are, to be sure!" she exclaimed. "You come to spend a social afternoon with me, and I see no more of you until the night drives you home. A pretty couple, indeed! I had the table spread, and everything in readiness—but I saw nothing of you, and so I sat down to my homely fare alone. Out upon you, I say!"

Emily apologized, and promised to amend the error of her ways.

"What will your father say to all this ?" asked the old woman of Miss Florence.

66

What, indeed, will he say?" returned the agitated girl. "How imprudent I have been ! I must hurry home without delay;" and so saying, she requested me to accompany her through the woods.

We continued our way as rapidly as possible towards the Florence mansion, for it was now almost

dark. Emily expressed frequent apprehensions that her father would reprove her severely for remaining out until so late an hour. I endeavoured to quiet her fears, but it was to little purpose. Sometimes, however, she resumed her gayety, for her spirits were naturally too buoyant and elastic to be entirely subdued. The conversation at length turned upon Meg Lawler.

"She is a strange woman!" remarked Miss Florence. "For a year or more she has lived in that cottage, chiefly supported by my father. Poor woman! her husband deserted her some months ago, and has not been heard of since. I often wonder at her shrewdness and intelligence; she has not lived unobservant of the world. She is naturally of a kind and generous disposition; but, unfortunately, is much given to intemperance. The Bible she considers her greatest treasure, although, like many others, she sometimes disobeys its precepts. She is fond of relating the history of her life; and no greater insult could be offered her than a refusal to listen. She tells many strange stories, some of which, perhaps, are wanting in probability. Her mind is vigorous and energetic, but resembles the rude and unpolished marble."

By this time we had arrived at the margin of the woods, within view of the Florence mansion.

"Here you must leave me," said Emily: "you may think strange that I am so unceremonious, but I have my reasons."

I remarked that it would be ungallant to desert her, as the path was uneven, and she might find a difficulty in making her way.

"We must dispense with etiquette," she replied, "when necessity requires it."

I reminded her of the robber, whom she thought we had seen in the woods—adding, that he might be on the watch, and overtake her.

"What have I to fear?" she asked in a bold and fearless tone, drawing an ivory-hilted dagger from her bosom, which she held before her with an extended arm. "This is my protection! You see, therefore, I am not without a defence." And her words were uttered in a voice which bespoke her stern and resolute nature.

There was a brief silence, which neither of us seemed disposed to interrupt. Miss Florence at length added—

"Pardon me, but I would not be seen in your presence, nor in the presence of any man." I was about to reply.

"Hush!" she interrupted, in a deep, low tone, placing her finger upon her lips.

At this moment I heard approaching footsteps. Miss Florence looked hurriedly around, and said, in a scarcely audible tone

"It is my father!"

"Why this alarm? Why do you tremble?" I asked, taking her hand in mine.

"Hush! or my life is perilled!" she quickly replied, putting her mouth close to my ear, as if fearful that the slightest whisper might be heard.

Scarcely knowing what I did, I imprinted a kiss (the first-burning, passionate, and full of rapture) upon her innocent lips, and darted into the woods.

CHAPTER XVIII.

But though Nature

Was outraged thus, she was not overcome.

Feudal Times.

'Tis strange, that in the dark sulphureous mine,
Where wild ambition piles its ripening stores
Of slumbering thunder, Love will interpose
His tiny torch, and cause the stern explosion
To burst, when the diviser's least aware.

WALTER SCOTT.

My eye still followed the retreating figure of Miss Florence. She had not proceeded far, when she was accosted by a harsh and authoritative voice.

"Where have you been until this late hour?" "I was detained by the shower," she answered. "Indeed!" sneeringly replied the other.

where did you pass the evening?"

"At the cottage."

66

"And

Meg Lawler must have been unusually entertaining! How is it that you have grown so fond of her society all at once?"