LHA DHU;

OR, THE DARK DAY. 

By William Carleton

There is no country in the world whose scenery is more sweetlydiversified, or more delicately shaded away into that exquisite varietyof surface which presents us with those wavy outlines of beauty thatsoftly melt into each other, than is that of our own green island. Alas!how many deep valleys, wild glens, green meadows, and pleasant hamlets, lie scattered over the bosom of a country, peopled by inhabitants whoare equally moved by the impulses of mirth and sorrow; each valley, andglen, and pleasant hamlet marked by some tearful remembrance of humblecalamity of which the world never hears. How little do its proudnobility know of the fair and still beauty which marks the unbrokensilence of its most delightful retreats, or of the unassuming recordsof love or sorrow, which pass down through a single generation, andare soon lost in the rapid stream of life. We do not love toremember sorrow, but its traces, notwithstanding, are always the mostuneffaceable, and, what is strange as true, its mournful imprint remainsever the longest upon the heart that is most mirthful. We talk not nowof the hollow echo, like mirth, which comes from thousands only becausethe soul is wanting. No; but we say that as the diamond is found in thedarkness of the mine, as the lightning shoots with most vivid flashesfrom the gloomiest cloud, so does mirthfulness frequently proceed froma heart susceptible of the deepest melancholy. Many and true are thesimple tales of Irish life which could prove this. Many a fair laughinggirl who has danced in happiness, light as a mote in the sunbeam, hasbeen suddenly left in darkness, bowed down in youth and beauty to thegrave, and though the little circle of which she was the centre may havebeen disturbed by her untimely life, yet in brief space, except to a fewyearning and stricken hearts who could not forget her who was once theirpride and hope, her Memory has passed away like a solitary bird, viewedas it goes over us, and followed wistfully, by the eye, until by degreesit lessens and lessens--becomes dim--then fades into a speck, andultimately melts into the blue distance of heaven. One such a "simpleannal, " brought about by the inscrutable hand that guides the destiniesof life, we are now about to present to our readers. Were it the merecreation of our fancy, it might receive many of those embellishments atour hand with which we scruple not to adorn the shadowy idealities offiction. 

It is, however, one of those distressing realities so often producedby the indulgence of vehement passion, that we are compelled by themelancholy severity of its truth to give the details of, not, alas, aswe could have wished them to happen, but simply as they occurred. 

The village of _Ballydhas_ was situated in the bosom of as sweet avalley as ever gladdened the eye and the heart of a man to look upon. Contentment, peace, and prosperity, walked step by step with its happyinhabitants. The people were marked by a pastoral simplicity of manners, such as is still to be found in some of the remote and secluded hamletsof Ireland. The vale was green and shelving, having its cornfields, its pasturage, and its patches of fir, poplar, and mountain-ashintermingled, and creeping up on each side in wild but quiet beauty tothe very mountain tops that enclosed it. At the head of the glen reposeda small clear sheet of water, as calm and unruffled as the villageitself. By this sweet lake was fed the pure stream which murmured downbetween the banks, here and there opened, and occasionally covered byhazel, black-thorn, or birches. As it approached the village the sceneryabout it became more soft and tranquil. The banks spread away intomeadows flower-spangled and green; the fields became richer; the cornwaved to the soft breezes of summer; the noon-day smoke of the dinnerfires rose up, and was gently borne away to the more wide-spread sceneof grandeur and cultivation that lay in the champaign country below it. On each side of the glen were masses of rock and precipices, just largeenough to give sufficient wildness and picturesque beauty to a viewwhich in itself was calm and serene. In the distance about a mile to thenorth, stood out a bold but storm-vexed headland, that heaved back themighty swell of the Atlantic, of which a glimpse could be caught froman eminence above the village. Nothing indeed could be finer than thebooming fury of the giant billows, as they shivered themselves intospray, and thundered around the gloomy caverns of the headland, especially when contrasted with the calm sense of peace and securitywhich reposed upon the neat white village in the glen. 

How sweet of a summer Sabbath morning to sit upon the brow of thisdelightful valley, and contemplate in the light dreams of a happy heartits humble images of all that is pure, and peaceful, and soothing inlife; the little bustle of preparation for the cheerful but solemnduties of the day; the glad voices of bright-faced boys and girls, eager to get on their Sunday clothes; the busy stirring about of eachtucked-up matron, washing, and combing, and pinning her joyous littleones; and the contented father now dressed, placidly smoking hisafter-breakfast pipe, looking upon their little cares, and theirstruggles for precedence in being decked out with their humble finery;now rebuking an elder boy for his impatience and want of considerationin not allowing his juniors to get first dressed, and again soothing ayounger one until his turn came. 

"Barney, troth you ought to have more sinse, avick, than to bequarrellin' wid poor Jemmy about gettin' an you. Don't you know he'sbut a child, an' must of coorse get his little things an before you, espishially as this is the first Sunday of the crathur's new jacket an'throwsers. Blood alive, Barney, be manly, and don't make comparishmentwid a _pasitah_ (child). I hope you've got off your lesson in thecatechiz this mornin', and that you wont have to hang down your head widthe blush of shame among the _bouchaleens_ (little boys) in the chapelto-day. Go 'way, avick, and rehearse it, an' whin your mother finisheshim, and Dick, and little Mary, she'll have yourself as clane as a newsixpence. "

Then came the moment when the neat and well-dressed groups issued outof their happy homes, and sought in cheerful companionship with thoseof different creeds, their respective places of worship; for, gentlereader, the inhabitants of Ballydhas were, in point of religion, someProtestant, some Roman Catholic, and others Presbyterian. Many a timehave we seen them proceed together in peace and friendship along thesame road, until they separated either to church, to meeting, or tochapel; and again return on their way home, in a spirit equally cordialand kind. The demon of political discord and religious rancor had notcome among them. Each class in the parish worshipped God after its ownmanner. All were happy, and industrious, and independent, for they hadnot then been taught that they were slaves and natural enemies groaningunder the penal yoke of oppression. 

Their fairs and markets were equally peaceful. Neither faction-fight norparty-fight ever stained the streets with blood. The whoop of strife wasnever raised by neighbor against neighbor, nor the coat trailed, or thecaubeen thrown up into the air to challenge an opposite faction. Therewas, in truth, none of all this. The people were moral and educated. Religion they attended with that decorous sense of decency which alwaysresults from a sincere perception of its obligations and influence. 

Yet were they not without their sports and rustic amusements. Wherethe bitterness of malignity is absent, cheerfulness has full play, andcandor, ever open and benevolent, is the exponent of mirth and goodwill. Though their fairs and markets were undisturbed by the savageviolence of mutual conflict, yet were they enlivened by the harmlesspastimes which throw the charm of uncorrupted life over the human heartand the innocent scenes from which it draws in its amusements. Life isharsh enough, and we are no friends to those who would freeze its genialcurrent by the gloomy chill of ascetic severity. 

Within about two miles of Ballydhas stood the market town of the parish. It also bore the traces of peace and happiness. Around it lay a richfertile country, studded with warm homesteads, waving fields, andresidences of a higher rank, at once elegant and fashionable. The gentrywere not, it is true, of the highest class; but in lieu of that theywere kind, considerate, and what was before all, resident. If anaccidental complaint happened to be preferred by one man againstanother, they generally were qualified by a knowledge of theircharacters to administer justice between them, without the risk of beingmisled by misrepresentation. This prevented many complaints foundedin malice or party-spirit, and consequently reduced litigation toan examination of the very few cases in which actual injury had beensustained. 

Many a fair day have we witnessed in this quiet and thriving markettown. And it is sweet to us--yes, intensely sweet to leave, for amoment, the hollow and slippery pathways of artificial life--of thatunfeeling, unholy and loathsome selfishness of heart, and soul, andcountenance, which marks as with a brand of infamy, the fictions offashionable and metropolitan society, where every person and professionyou meet, is a lie or a libel to be guarded against. Yes, it is pleasantto us to leave all this, and to go back in imagination to a fair day inthe town of Balaghmore. Like an annual festival, it stole upon us withmany yearning wish, that time, at least for a month before, should beannihilated. And when the fair morning came, what a drifting tide ofpeople, cows, sheep, horses, and pigs, passed on in the eager tumultof business, before our eyes. The comfortable farmer in his best grayfrize; the young man in spruce corduroy breeches, home-made blue coat, and bran new hat; the tidy maiden with neat bunch of yarn, spun by herown fingers, giving sufficient proof to her bachelor that a young womanof industrious habits uniformly makes the best wife for a poor man. Various, indeed, were the classes that, in multitudinous groups, driftedtowards the fair green. The spruce, well-mounted horse-jockey, withbottle-green coat closely buttoned, tight buckskin inexpressibles, long-lashed hunting-whip, and top-boots; the drover on his plump hack, pacing slowly after his fat beeves; the gentleman farmer, trundlingalong in his gig, or trotting smartly on a bit of half-blood. Here goa family group, the children with new hats and ruffles, grandfather alittle behind, with the hand of an own pet boy or a girl in his;observe the joy of their faces; what complacent happiness on the ruddycountenance of the healthy old man. The parents are also happy, butbetray the unconscious anxiety of those who love their children, andare sensible of the serious duties inseparable from their condition;the four little ones know not the cares of affection, and, consequently, their looks are full of delight, eagerness, and curiosity. What a tideof bewildered interrogatories does the fifth urchin pour upon the ear ofthe old grandfather, who is foolish enough to stop the whole group, in order to relate the precocious pertinency of some particular query. There goes a snug farmer, his wife, and good-looking daughters, seatedupon a farm-car that is trussed with straw, covered by a blue quilt. Wewill wager that some "good woman" has somewhere about the premises a fewcakes of hard griddle-wheat, to eat when they get hungry, with a glassof punch, and, it may be, a good slice or two of excellent hung beef orbacon. But now they approach town, and the stream thickens. There go thebeggars, mendicants, and impostors, showing a degree of agility ratherimpracticable with their respective maladies, grievous and deplorable asthey all, of course, are; and toiling vehemently after them, hops "Billi' the Bowl, " pitching himself along in a copper-fastened dish, with asmall stool or _creepie_ supporting each hand. But now the whole sweepof the town and fair-green open to us; tents, and standings, and tables, and roasting and boiling are all about us; for the _spoileen_ fires arein operation, and many a fat sheep will be cut up, as well for thosewho have never tasted mutton before, as for hundreds who eat ratherfrom hunger than curiosity. Heavens! what an astounding multitude ofdiscordant noises all blend into one hoarse, deep, drowsy body of sound, for which we can find no suitable term. Cows lowing, sheep bleating, pigs grunting, horses neighing, men shouting, women screaming, fiddlersplaying, pipes squeeling, youngsters, dancing, hammering up of standingsand tents, thumping of restive or lazy animals, the show-man's drum, thelottery-man's speech, the ballad-singer's squall, all come upon us; andlastly, the unheeded sweep of the death-bell, as it tells with sullentongues that some poor mortal has for ever departed from the cares andamusements, the trade and traffic, of this transitory life. 

About twelve o'clock the fair-tide is full; for that is the time inwhich the greatest interchange of property, and the most vigoroustransactions of business, with all accompanying bustle and activity, take place. For an hour or two this continues. About three o'clock thetide is evidently on the ebb; business begins to slacken, and thosewho have their transactions brought to a close, meet their families andfriends at the place of rendezvous--always a public house. It is now, indeed, when the heat and burden of the day have passed, and refreshmentbecomes both grateful and necessary, that the people fall into distinctgroups for the purpose of social enjoyment. If two young folk have beenfor some time "_coortin_" one another, "the bachelor, " which in Irelandmeans a suitor, generally contrives to bring his friends and those of, his sweetheart together. The very fact of their accepting the "thrate, "on either side, or both, is a good omen, and considered tantamount toa mutual consent of their respective connections. This, however, is notalways so; for it often happens that a match is broken off after manya friendly compotation has been held "upon the head of it, " which meansupon that subject. Let the reader stand with us for a few minutes, andwe will point out to him one or two groups who have met for the purposeof settling a marriage. Do you see that tall _sthreel_ of a fellow, who slings awkwardly along, for which reason he is nicknamed by hisacquaintances "a sling-poke"? Observe the lazy grotesque repose of histhree-featured face, for more it does not present, viz. --mouth, eyes, and nose. His long legs are without calves, and he is in-kneed; yet thefellow has such taste, that in order to show his shape he must needswear breeches! Look at his coat, which was made for him about five yearsago, when he was but "a slip of a boy. " The thin collar only reachesto the upper part of his shoulder; and as he is what is called"crane-necked, " of course the distance between his hat and the collaris incredible. The arms of the said coat are set so far in, that theyappear almost to meet behind; but, on the other hand, two naked bones, each about six inches in length, project from the cuffs, which come notfar below his elbows. The coat itself is what is called a jerkin; andas the buttons behind are half-way up his back, it is a matter of coursethat the tail, which runs rapidly to a point, is ludicrously scanty. Now, that youth, who is probably under no sense of gratitude to thegraces, has put his "co-medher" on the prettiest girl, with one ortwo exceptions, in the whole parish. The miserable pitch-fork, thelongitudinal rake--we speak now in a hay-making sense--has contrivedto oust half a dozen of the handsomest and best-looking fellows in theparish. How he has done this is a mystery to his acquaintances; butit is none to us--we know him. The kraken has a tongue dripping withhoney--one that would smooth a newly-picked millstone. There they go, each of them laughing and cheerful, except himself; yet the fellow, though conscious of his own influence, enters the public-house as ifhe were going on the forlorn hope, or trailing his straggling limbs toconfide his last wishes to the ear of the sheriff or hangman. He is, however, an Irishman at heart, though little indeed of the nationalbearing is visible in his deportment. 

Here again comes a second group. Keep your eye on that good-humored, ruddy-faced young man, compact and vigorous, who is evidently the wag ofhis party. Observe his tight-titling, comfortable frize, neat brogues, and breeches, on the knees of which are two double knots of silk ribbon. See with what a smart, decisive air he wears his hat--"jauntily, " asLeigh Hunt would say--upon one side of his head. That fellow has a highcharacter for gallantry, and is allowed to be "the very sorrow amongthe girls"--"a Brinoge, " "wid an eye that 'ud steal cold praties offa dresser. " He is now leading in a girl, handsome no doubt, but who, nevertheless, does not possess sixpence, or sixpence worth for herportion. Not so the sword-fish we have pointed out to you a while ago, the tail of whose short coat lay as closely to him as that of a crab. The cassoway has secured a girl who, in point of wealth and dower, willbe the making of him. However, you know the secret, Solomon says thata soft answer turneth away wrath; but what will not a soft question do, when put to a pretty girl, where there is no wrath?

Here comes another party, fewer in point of number than those we haveshown you; a young man, a middle-aged woman, and her two daughters--onegrown, the other only about fifteen. Who is--ah!--it is not necessary toinquire. Alley Bawn Murray! Gentle reader bow with heartfelt respect tohumble beauty and virtue! She is that widow's daughter, the pride of theparish, and the beloved of all who can appreciate goodness, affection, and filial piety. The child accompanying them is her sister, and thatfine, manly, well-built, handsome youth is even now pledged to themodest and beautiful girl. He is the son of a wealthy farmer, some timedead; but in purity, in truth, and an humble sense of religion, theirhearts are each rich and each equal. 

Alas! alas! that it should be so! but we cannot control the inscrutabledesigns of Heaven. The spirit of our narrative must change, and our talecan henceforth breathe nothing but what is as mournful as it is true. There they pass into that public-house, true-hearted and attached;unconscious, too, poor things, of the almost present calamity thatis soon to wither that noble boy and his beautiful betrothed. Theirhistory, up to the period of their entering the public-house, is verybrief and simple. Felix O'Donnell was the son of a farmer, as we havesaid, sufficiently extensive and industrious to be wealthy, withoutpossessing any of the vulgar pride which rude independence frequentlyengrafts upon the ignorant and narrow-hearted. His family consisted oftwo sons and a daughter--Maura, the last-named, being the eldest, andFelix by several years the junior of his brother Hugh. Between the twobrothers there was in many things a marked contrast of character, whilstin others there might be said to exist a striking similarity. Hugh wasa dark-brown, fiery man when opposed, though in general quiet andinoffensive. His passions blazed out with fury for a moment, and onlyfor a moment; for no sooner had he been borne by their vehemenceinto the commission of an error, that he became quickly alive tothe promptings of a heart naturally affectionate and kind. In moneytransactions he had the character of being a hard man; yet were theremany in the parish who could declare that they found him liberal andconsiderate. The truth was, that he estimated money at more than itsjust value, without absolutely giving up his heart to its influence. When a young man, though in good circumstances, he looked cautiouslyabout him, less for the best or the handsomest wife than the largestdower. In the speculation, so far as it was pecuniary, he succeeded; buthis domestic peace was overshadowed by the gloom of his own character, and not unfrequently disturbed by the violent temper of a wife whounited herself to him with an indifferent heart. He was, in short, a manmore respected than loved; one of whom it was often said, "Well, well, he's a decent man, nabours--a little hard or so about money, but for allthat there's worse. Sure we all have our failin's. There's one thing inhim any how, that if he offinds a man he's sorry for it: ay, an' when hedoes chance to do a good turn, sorra a word ever any one hears about itfrom his own lips. To be sure there's a great deal of the nager in himno doubt, an' in troth he didn't take afther his own father for that. Devil a dacenter man than ould Felix O'Donnell ever broke bread. "

His brother Felix, in all that was amiable and affectionate, stronglyresembled him; but there the resemblance terminated Felix was subject tonone of his gloomy moods or violent outbursts of temper. He wasmanly, liberal, and cheerful--valued money at its proper estimate, and frequently declared, that in the choice of a wife he would neversacrifice his happiness to acquire it. 

"I have enough of my own, " he would say; "and when I meet the woman thatmy heart chooses, whether she has fortune or not, that's the girl that Iwill bring to share it, if she can love me. "

Felix and his sister both, resided together; for after his father'sdeath he succeeded to the inheritance that had been designed for him. Maura O'Donnell was in that state of life in which we feel it extremelydifficult to determine whether a female is hopeless or not upon thesubject of marriage. Her humors had begun to ferment and to clear offinto that thin vinegar serum which engenders the exquisite perception ofhuman error, and the equally keen touch with which it is reproved. Time, in fact, had begun to crimp her face, and the vinegar to sparkle in hereye with that fiery gleam which is so easily lit up at five and thirty. Still she loved Felix, whose good-humor constituted him a butt for theirascible sallies of a temper more nearly allied to his brother Hugh'sthan his own. He was her younger brother, too, of whom she was justlyproud; and she knew that Felix, in spite of the pungency of her frequentreproofs, loved her deeply, as was evident by the many instances of hisconsiderate attention in bringing her home presents of dress, and incontributing, as far as lay in his power, to her comfort. 

The world, indeed, is too much in the habit of drawing distortedinferences from the transient feuds that occasionally appear in domesticlife. It would be hard to find a family in which they do not sometimesoccur; and when noticed by strangers, it is both uncharitable and unjustto conclude that there is an absence of domestic affection in the heartsof those who, after all, prove no more than that they are subject tothe errors and passions of human nature, like their fellow creatures. No sister, for instance, ever loved another with stronger affection thanpoor Maura did her brother Felix, notwithstanding the repeated scoldingswhich, for very trivial causes, he experienced at her tongue. Woe, keen and scathing, be to those who dared, in her presence to utter aninsinuation against him. 

"If she abused him, she only did it for his good, and because she lovedhim; an' good right she had to love him, for a better brother neverbreathed the breath of life. Wasn't he a mere boy, only one-and-twentyyears come next Lammas; and surely it stood to reason that he wantedsometimes to be checked and scolded too. He had neither father or motherto guide him, poor boy; and who would guide him, and advise him too, ifhis own sister wouldn't do it? Only one-and-twenty, and six feet in hisshoes; but no _punhial_, no cabbage upon two pot-sticks, like some sheknew, that were ready enough to give boy a harsh word when they ought tolook nearer home, and--may-be--but she said nothing--as God forbid thatshe'd make or meddle with any neighbor's character; but still, may-be, they'd find enough to blame at home, if they'd open their eyes to theirown failings, as well as they do to the failings of their neighbors. "

Another circumstance also strongly characteristic of the woman's heart, was evinced in the high and vigorous tone she assumed towards Hugh, whenever, in any of his dark moods, he happened to take Felix to task. These fierce encounters, however, never occurred in Felix's presence;for she thought that to take his part then, would remove, in a greatdegree, the 'vantage ground on which she stood with reference tohimself. Difficult, indeed, was the part she found herself compelledto play on those delicate occasions. She could not, as a moralist anddisciplinarian, proverbially strict, seem in any degree to countenancethe charges brought by Hugh against Felix; nor, on the other hand, wasit without a command of temper and heroic self-denial, rarely attained, that she was able to keep, her indignation against Hugh pent up withindecorous and plausible limits. During the remonstrance of the latter, she usually pushed the charges against Felix into the notorious failingsof Hugh himself, and this she did in a tone of irony so dry and cutting, that Hugh was almost in every case, as willing to abandon the attack ashe had been to begin it. 

"Ay, indeed, " she would proceed--"troth an' conscience, Hugh, avourneen"--avourneen being pronounced with a civil bitterness that wasperfectly withering--"troth an' conscience, Hugh, avourneen, it's truthyou're speaking, and not only that, Hugh darling, but he's as dark asthe old _dioul_ betimes, so he is, and runs into such fits of blacknessand anger, for no reason--Hugh, _dheelish_, for no reason in life, manalive. Are, you listening, Hugh? for it's to you I'm speaking, dear--forno reason in life, acushla, only because he's a dirty, black bodagh, that his whole soul and body's not worth the scrapings of a pot in ahard summer. Did you hear me, Hugh jewel? Felix, go out, avourneen, yeonbiddable creature, and look after them ditchers, and see that theydon't play upon us to-day, as they did on Saturday. "

Felix, who understood the sister's irony, went out on every such, occasion with perfect good will, and indulged in an uncontrollable fitof laughter at her masked attack upon his brother. 

No sooner was he gone than Hugh either fled at once, or gathered himselfup against the vehement assault he knew she was about to make upon him. 

"Why then, Hugh O'Donnell, ar'n't you a dirty, black bodagh, to go toopen upon the poor boy for no reason in life? What did he do that youshould abuse him, you nager you? and it's well known that you're anager, and that your heart's in the shillin'. Oh! it's long before you'dgo to fair or market and bring home the best gown, or shawl, or mantlein it to the only sister you have, as he does. Ay, ar'n't you the creamof a dirty, black bodagh, for to go to attack the poor boy only forspeaking to a dacent and a purty girl that hasn't a stain upon her name, or upon the name of one of her seed, breed, or generation, you miserlynager. I wouldn't say that before him, because I want to keep him underme; but where, I say, could you get so fine a young slip as poor Felixis'? My soul to the dev--God pardon me! I was going to say what Ioughtn't to say: but I tell you, Hugh, that you must quit of it; he'sthe only brother we have, and it's the least we should be kind to him. "

During this harangue poor Hugh's flush of passion usually departed fromhim. As we said, he loved his only brother; and so vivid were Maura'srepresentations of his virtues, that Hugh, his passion having subsided, was usually borne away by the pathos with which she closed herobservations respecting him. A burst of tears always concluded thedialogue on her part, and deep regret on the part of Hugh; for, in fact, the charges against Felix were such only as none except they themselvesin the very exuberance of their affection, would think of bringingagainst him. 

The reader is already acquainted with the allusion made by Maura to the"dacent and purty girl that hasn't a stain upon her name, or upon thename of one of her seed, breed, or generation. " This "purty" girl is noother than Alley Bawn Murray; and although Maura, from a sheer spiritof contradiction, spoke of her to Hugh in a favorable point of view, yetnothing could be more obstinately bitter than her opposition to such amatch on the part of Felix. 

This, however, is human nature. To those who cannot understand such acharacter, we offer no apology--to the few who do, none is necessary. 

The courtship of Alley Bawn and Felix had arrived, on the fair-day ofBallaghmore, to a crisis which required decision on the part of thewooer. They went in, as we have shown the reader, to a public-house. Their conversation, which was only such as takes place in a thousandsimilar instances, we do not mean to detail. It was tender and firm onthe part of Felix, and affectionate between him and her. With that highpride, which is only another name for humility, she urged him toforget her, "if it was not plasin' to his frinds. You know, Felix, " shecontinued, "that I am poor and you are rich, an' I wouldn't wish to bedragged into a family that couldn't respect me. "

"Alley dear, " replied Felix, "I know that both Hugh and Maura love me intheir hearts; and although they make a show of anger in the beginnin', yet they'll soon soften, and will love you as they do me. "

"Well, Felix, " replied Alley, "my mother and you are present; if mymother says I ought----"

"I do, darling, " said her mother; "that is, I can't feel any particularobjection to it. Yet somehow my mind is troubled. I know that what hesays is what will happen; but, for all that--och, Felix, aroon, there'ssomething over me about the same match--I don't know--I'm willin' an'I'm not willin'. "

They arose to depart; and as both families lived in the beautifulvillage of Ballydhas, which we have already described to the reader, ofcourse their walk home was such as lovers could wish. 

Evening had arrived; the placid summer sun shone down with a mild floodof light upon Ballaghmore and the surrounding country. There was nothingin the evening whose external phenomena could depress any human heart. The ocean lay like a mirror, on which the beams of the sun glistenedin magnificent shafts, in whatsoever position you looked upon it. Not awave or a ripple broke the expansive sheet, that stretched away tillit melted into the dipping sky; yet to the ear its mysterious and deepmurmurs were audible, and the lonely eternal sobbing of the awful sea, struck upon the heart of the superstitious mother with a sense of fearand calamity. Felix and Alley went before them, and the conversationwhich we are about to detail, took place between herself and heryoungest daughter. 

"Susy, darlin', " said she, "you see the happy pair before us; but whyis it, acushla, that my heart is sunk when I think of their marriage? Doyou hear that _say_? There's not a wave on it, but still it's angry, ifone can judge by its voice. Darlin' it's a bad sign, for the samesay isn't always so. Sometimes it is as asy as a sleepin' baby, andsometimes, although its waves are quiet enough, it looks like a murdererasleep. Now it breathes heavily avourneen, as if all was not right. Susy, darlin', I'm afeard, I say, that it's a bad sign. "

"Mother dear, " replied Susy, "what makes you speak that way? Sure itwouldn't be the little-sup o' punch that Felix made you take that 'udget into your head!"

"No, darlin'! Look at the pair before us; there they go, the pride, botho' them, God knows, of the whole parish; but still when I think of thebitterness of Felix's friends, Susy, I can't help being afeard. Hisbrother Hugh is a dark man, and his sister Maura is against it. God pitythem! It's a cruel world, acushla, when people like them can't do asthey'd wish to do. But, Susy, you're a child, and knows nothing at allabout it. "

Felix and Alley walked on, unconscious of me ominous forebodings whichthe superstition of the affectionate woman prompted her to utter. Thearrangements for their marriage were on that night concluded, and themother, after some feebly expressed misgivings, at which Felix andAlley laughed heartily, was induced, to consent that on the third Sundayfollowing they should be joined in wedlock. Had Felix been disposed toconceal his marriage from Hugh and Maura, at least until the eve of itsoccurrence, the publishing of their banns in the chapel would have, ofcourse, disclosed it. When his sister heard that the arrangementswere completed, she poured forth a torrent of abuse against what sheconsidered the folly and simplicity of a mere boy, who allowed himselfto be caught in the snares of an artful girl, with nothing but ahandsome face to recommend her. Felix received all this with good humor, and replied only in a strain of jocularity to every thing she said. 

Hugh, on the other hand, contented himself with a single observation. "Felix, " said he, "I won't see you throw yourself away upon a girl thatis no fit match for you. If you can't take care of yourself, I will. Once for all, I tell you that this marriage must not take place. "

As he uttered these words his dark brows were bent, and his eyesflashed with a gleam of that ungovernable passion for which he wasso remarkable. Felix, at all times peaceable, and always willing toacknowledge his elder brother's natural right to exercise a due degreeof authority over him, felt that this was stretching it too far. Stillhe made no reply, nor indeed did Hugh allow him time to retort, had hebeen so disposed. They separated without more words, each resolved toaccomplish his avowed purpose. 

The opposition of Hugh and Maura to his marriage, only strengthenedFelix's resolution to make his beloved and misrepresented AlleyBawn, the rightful mistress of his hearth, as she already was of hisaffections. Nay, his love burned for her with a purer and tendererflame, when he looked upon the artless girl, and thought of the cruelhearts that would make her a martyr to a spirit so worldly-minded andselfish. Their deep-rooted prejudice against her poverty, he delicatelyconcealed from her, together with the length to which their oppositionhad gone. As for himself, he acted precisely as if the approachingmarriage had their full sanction; he saw Alley every day, became stillmore deeply enamored, and heard his sister's indignant remonstranceswithout uttering a single syllable in reply. 

At length the happy Sunday morning arrived, and never did a moreglorious sun light up the beautiful valley of Ballydhas than that whichshed down its smiling radiance from heaven upon their union. Felix'sheart was full of that eager and trembling delight, which, where thereis pure and disinterested love, always marks our emotions upon thatblessed epoch in human life. Maura, contrary to her wont, was unusuallysilent during the whole morning; but Felix could perceive that shewatched all his emotions with the eye of a lynx. When the hour of goingto chapel approached, he deemed it time to dress, and, for that purpose, went to a large oaken tallboy that stood in the kitchen, in order toget out his clothes. It was locked, however, and his sister told him atonce, that the key, which was in her possession, should not pass intohis hands that day. "No, " she continued, "nor sorra the ring you'll puton the same girl with my consent. Aren't you a purty young omadhaun, you spiritless creature, to go to marry sich a _niddy-nauddhy_, when youknow that the best fortunes in the glen would jump at you! Yes, faiks!to bring home that mane, useless creature, that hasn't a penny to thegood! A purty farmer's wife she'll make, and purtily she'll fill my poormother's shoes, God be good to her! A poor, unsignified, smooth-facedthing, that never did a dacent day's work out of doors, barring toshake up a cock of hay, or pull the growing of a peck of flax! Oh! thin, mother darlin', that's in glory this day! but it's a purty head of ahouse he's puttin' afther you; and myself, too, must knock under to thelike of her, and see her put up in authority over my head. Let mealone, Felix; your laughing wont pass. The sorra kay you'll get from meto-day. "

Felix, who was resolved to procure the key, saw that there wasnothing for it but a little friendly violence. A good-humored struggleaccordingly commenced between them--good-humored on his side, but bitterand determined on the part of Maura. Finding it difficult to secure thekey, even by violence, Felix was about to give up the contest, and forcethe lock at once, when Hugh entered. 

"What's all this?" he inquired. "What racket's this? Is it beating yoursister you are? Is the young headstrong profligate beating you, Maura, eh?"

"No, Hugh, not that; but he wants the kay to deck himself up formarrying that pot of his. God knows, I'd rather he did beat me than dowhat he's going to do. "

"Felix, " said his brother, "I'm over you in place of your father, andI tell you that it'll cost me a sore fall, or I'll put a stop to thisday's work. A purty bridegroom you are, and a 'sponsible father of afamily you'll make! By my sowl, it's a horsewhip I ought to take to you, and lash all thoughts of marriage out of you. What a hurry you are into go a shoolin' (to become the rustic _chevalier d'industrie_). Youhad betther provide yourself the bag and staff at once, for if you marrythis portionless, good-for-nothing hussy----"

Felix's eye flashed, and, for the first time in his life, he turned afierce glance upon his brother. 

"She's no hussy, Hugh; and if another man said it----" he paused, for itwas but the 'hectic of a moment. '

"You'd knock him down, I suppose, " said Hugh. "Why don't you speak itout? Why, Maura, he's a man on our hands, and I suppose he'll be a bullyto-morrow, or next day, and put us all under his feet, and make us allknuckle down to his poppet of a wife. "

"Hugh, " said Felix, "I am willin to forget and forgive all the harshnessever you showed me, and to remimber nothing but your kindness, and youwor kind, to me; you're my brother--my only, and my eldest brother, and I beg it as a favor to one that loves you both, that you'll notinterfere in my marriage this day. "

"So far only, " replied Hugh, "that I'll stop it for good an' all. You'llget no clothes out of this press to-day. In ten years or so you may bethinkin' of it. There's Madge M'Gawley, take her, with all my heart; agirl that has fifty pounds, five cows, and threescore sheep: ay, an'a staid sober girl. To be sure she's no beauty, an' not fit for'gintlemen' that must have purty faces, and empty pockets. I say again, Felix, I'll put an end to this match. "

This was too much for Felix's patience. After several unsuccessfulremonstrances, and even supplications very humbly expressed, a fiercestruggle ensued between the brothers which was only terminated by theinterference of the two servant-men, who with some difficulty forced theelder out of the house, and brought him across the fields towards hisown home. Maura then gave up the key, and the youthful bridegroom wassoon dressed and prepared to meet his "man, " and a few friends whom hehad invited, at the chapel. His mind, however, was disturbed, and hisheart sank at this ill-omened commencement of his wedding day. 

"Maura, " said he, when about to leave the house, "I'm heavy at heart forwhat has happened. Will you say that you forgive me, dear, before I go?and tell Hugh that I forgive him everything, and that the last words Isaid before I went, wor--'that the blessin' of God may rest upon himand his, ' and upon you too, Maura, dear. "

These expressions are customary among Irish families when a marriage isabout to take place; but upon this occasion they came spontaneously froma generous and feeling heart. Felix saw with sorrow that his brother andsister had not blessed him, and he resolved that his part of a duty sotender should not remain unperformed. 

Maura, who suddenly averted her face when he addressed her, made noreply; but after he had departed from the threshold, her eyes followedhim, and the tears slowly forced their way down her cheeks. 

"It's no use, " said she, "it's no use, I love him, I love my kindbrother in spite of every thing. May God bless you Felix! may God blessyou, and all you love! God forgive me for opposin' the boy as I did; andGod forgive Hugh! but he thinks it would be all for Felix's good to stophis marriage with Alley Bawn. "

Felix, who heard neither his sister's blessing nor the expression of theaffection she bore him, passed on with hasty steps through the fields. He had not gone far, however, when he saw his brother walking towardshim; his arms folded, and his eyes almost hidden by his heavy brows;sullen ferocity was in his looks, and his voice, as he addressed him, was hollow with suppressed rage. 

"So, " said he, "you will ruin yourself! Go back home, Felix. "

"For God's sake, Hugh, let me alone, let me pass. "

"You will go?" said the other. 

"I will, Hugh. "

"Then may bad luck go with you, if you do. I order you to stay at home, I say. "

"Mind your own business, Hugh, and I'll mind mine, " was the only replygiven him. 

Felix walked on by making a small circuit out of the direct path, forhe was anxious not only to proceed quickly, as his time was limited, butabove all things, to avoid a collision with his brother. 

[Illustration: PAGE 75-- Felix fell forward in an instant]

The characteristic fury of the latter shot out in a burst that resembledmomentary madness as much as rage. "Is that my answer?" he shouted, inthe hoarse, quivering accents of passion; and with the rapid energy ofthe dark impulse which guided him, he snatched up a stone from a ditch, and flung it at his brother, whose back was towards him. Felix fellforward in an instant, but betrayed after his fall no symptoms ofmotion--the stillness of apparent death was in every limb. Hugh, afterthe blow had been given, stood rooted to the earth, and looked as if thedemon which possessed him had fled the moment the fearful act had beencommitted. His now bloodless lips quivered, his frame became relaxed, and the wild tremor of horrible apprehension shook him from limb tolimb. Immediately a fearful cry was heard far over the field's, and thewords--"Oh! yeah! yeah, yeah, Felix, my brother, agra, can't you spaketo me?" struck upon the heart of Maura and the servant-men, with afeeling of dismay, deep and deadly. 

"O God!" she exclaimed, with clasped hands and upturned eyes, "O God! myboy, my boy--Felix, Felix, what has happened to you?"

Again the agonized cry of the brother was heard loud and frantic. 

"Oh, yeah, yeah, Felix, are you dead? brother, agra, can't you speak tome?"

With rapid steps they rushed to the spot; but, ah! what a scene wasthere to blast their sight and sear the brain of his sister, and indeedof all who could look upon it. The young bridegroom smote down whenhis foot was on the very threshold of happiness, and by the hand of abrother?

Hugh, in the mean time, had turned up Felix from the prone posture inwhich he lay, with a hope--a frenzied, a desperate hope of ascertainingwhether or not life was extinct. In this position the stricken boy waslying, his brother, like a maniac, standing over him, when Maura andthe servants arrived. One glance, a shudder, then a long ghastly gaze atHugh, and she sank down beside the insensible victim of his fury. 

"What, " said Hugh, wildly clenching his hands, "Mother of glory, haveI killed both? Oh, Felix, Felix! you are happy, you are happy, agra, brother; but for me, oh, for me, my hour of mercy is past an' gone. Ican never look to heaven more! How can I live, " he muttered furiouslyto himself, "how can I live? and I daren't die. O God! O God! my brain'sturnin'. I needn't pray to God to curse the hand that struck you dead, Felix dear, for I feel this minute that His curse is on me. "

Felix was borne in, but no arm would Hugh suffer to encircle him buthis own. Poor Maura recovered and although in a state of absolutedistraction, yet she had presence of mind to remember that they oughtto use every means in their power to restore the boy to life if it werepossible. Water was got, with which his face was sprinkled; in a littletime he breathed, opened his eyes, looked mournfully about him, andasked what had happened him. Never was pardon to the malefactor, nor thefirm tread of land to the shipwrecked mariner, so welcome as the dawn ofreturning life in Felix was to his brother. The moment he saw the pooryouth's eyes fixed upon him, and heard his voice, he threw himself onhis knees at the bedside, clasped him in his arms, and with an impetuoustide of sensations, in which were blended joy, grief, burning affection, and remorse, he kissed his lips, strained him to his bosom, and weptwith such agony, that poor Felix was compelled to console him. 

"Oh! Felix, Felix, " exclaimed Hugh "what was it I did to you? or howcould the devil out of hell tempt me to--to--to--oh! Felix agra, sayyou're not hurted--say only that you'll be as well as ever, an I takeGod and every one present to witness, that from this minute till the dayof my death, a harsh word 'll never crass my lips to you. Say you're nothurted, Felix dear! Don't you know, Felix, in spite of my dark-temper'sputting me into a passion with you sometimes, that I always loved you?"

"Yes you did, Hugh, " replied Felix, "an' I still knew you did. I didn'toften contradict you, because I knew, too, that the passion would soongo off of you, and that you'd be kind to me again. "

"Yeah, yeelish, " said the other, while the scalding tears flowedprofusely down his cheeks, and the deep sobs almost choked him. "Oh, yeah, yeelish! what could come over me! As judgment's before me, he wasthe best brother ever God created--you were, Felix darling--you were, you were!" He again pressed him to his heart, and kissed his lips withan overwhelming fulness of remorse and love. 

"An' another thing, Felix dear--but first tell me are you gettin'betther?"

"I am, " replied the youth, "my head is a little confused, but I have nopain. "

Hugh raised his hands and streaming eyes to heaven. 

"Thanks, thanks, oh thanks an' praise be to God for that news! thanksan' praise be to you, blessed Father, for what he has said this minute, for it takes the weight, the dead crushin' weight that lay on my heart, off it. And now, Felix jewel, here, alanna, lay over your head upon mybreast, an' I'll hould you anything I whisper into your own ear what 'llmake you as stout as ever--keep away all of yees--the nerra one o' ye'll hear it but himself. Sure, Felix dear, " he continued, in a lowervoice, "sure I'm willin' that you should marry your own Alley Bawn. An'listen, sure, I'll give her a portion myself--I'm able to do it an' Iwill too. "

Felix, on hearing her name, looked around and endeavored, as appeared byhis manner, to collect himself. He put his hand to his head for a momentand his eyes were without meaning. Hugh observed it, and felt his griefinstantly checked by a fearful surmise as to a possible consequence ofthe blow which he had not contemplated. 

"Felix dear, " said he in a voice low, hollow, and full of terror, "whatails you? Is the pain coming back?"

Felix spoke not for about a minute, during which time he had becomequite collected. Then with an affectionate look towards his brother, hereplied--

"God bless you, Hugh, for the words you have said to me! Poor Alley?Hugh, God bless you! Would Maura consent? Will you consent, agra, to it, Maura dear?"

Maura, who had been all this time weeping, now advanced, and, smilingthrough her tears, embraced him tenderly. "Yes, Felix, darling, an' I'monly heart-broken, that ever Hugh or myself refused to consent, or everset ourselves against it. "

The boy's eyes sparkled with a light more brilliant than had ever shonefrom them before: his whole face became animated, and the cloudof sorrow which had rested on his pale brow melted away before theeffulgence of reviving hope. In a few minutes he arose and expressedhis determination to proceed and keep his appointment. Hugh and Maurarequested to accompany him, and the latter begged to be allowed theprivilege to give the bride away. 

"Maura, " said Felix, "will you desire the servants to have a decentdinner prepared, and we'll eat it here. I intend, if you and Hugh willlet me, to bring her home at once!"

"Och, God help the poor boy!" exclaimed Maura--"yes, darling, all thatmust be done. "

When ready to depart, he again put his hand to his head--"It comes onhere, " said he, "for about a minute or so--this confusion--I think I'lltie a handkerchief about my head. It 'ill be an asy thing for me to makesome excuse, or I can take it off at the chapel. "

This was immediately acquiesced in; but at Hugh's suggestion a car wasprepared, a horse yoked in a few minutes, and Felix, accompanied andsupported by his brother and sister, set out for Mass. On arriving atthe "green, " he felt that his short journey had not been beneficial tohim; on the contrary, he was worse, and very properly declined to gointo the heated atmosphere of the chapel. A message by his sister soonbrought the blushing, trembling, serious, yet happy-looking girl tohis side. Her neat white dress, put on with that natural taste whichis generally accompanied by as clear sense of moral propriety, and herplain cottage bonnet, bought for the occasion, showed that she cameprepared, not beyond, but to the utmost reach of her humble means. Andthis she did more for Felix's sake than her own, for she resolved thather appearance should not, if possible, jar upon the feelings of onewho, she knew, in marrying her, had sacrificed prospects of wealth andworldly happiness for her sake. At sight of her, Felix smiled, but itwas observed that his face, which had a moment before been pale, wasinstantly flushed, and his eye unusually bright. When he had kissed her, she replied to the friendly greetings of his brother and Maura with themost comely dignity, well suited to her situation and circumstances. Then turning to the elected husband of her heart, she said--

"Why thin, Felix, but it's little credit you do me this happy morning, coming with your night-cap on, as if you weren't well;" but as she sawthe smile fade from his lips, and the color from his cheek, her heartsank, and "pallid as death's dedicated bride, " with her soft blue eyesbent upon his changing color and bandaged head, she exclaimed, "God bemerciful to us! Felix dear, you are ill--you are hurted! Felix, Felixdarling, what ails you? What is wrong?"

"Don't be frightened, jewel, " he replied, "Don't, darling--it won'tsignify--my foot slipped afther laving you last night on my way home, and my head came against a stone--it's only a little sore outside. It 'ill be very well as soon as the priest puts your heart and minetogether--never to be parted--long--long an' airnestly have I wishedan' prayed for this happy day. Isn't your mother here, jewel, an' my ownlittle Ellen?"

Her eye had been fixed upon his countenance with all the love andanxiety of a young bride about to be united to the husband of herheart's first choice. She saw that despite of every effort to thecontrary, there was in his mind a source of some secret sorrow. A singletear rolled down her cheek, which he kissed away, and as he did it, whispered her in a tone of affectionate confidence, that it was but atrifle and signified nothing. Maura took her hand, and assured her thatno cause for apprehension existed; so did Hugh, but as he held her handin his, he perceived that she got pale again, and trembled as if seizedwith some sudden fear. 

When the ceremony was concluded, those who attended it of coursereturned to Felix's house to partake of the wedding-dinner. He, indeed, seemed to be gifted with new life; his eyes sparkled, and a deepcarmine of his cheek was dazzling to look upon. Courtesy, and the usagesprevalent on such occasions, compelled him to drink more than hisstate of health was just then capable of bearing; he did not, however, transgress the bounds of moderation. Still the noise of manytongues, the sounds of laughter, and the din of mirth, joined to theconsciousness that his happiness was now complete, affected him withthe feverish contagion of the moment. He talked hurriedly and loud, andseemed to feel as if the accomplishment of his cherished hopes was toomuch for his heart to bear. 

In the midst of all this jollity a change which none observed came overhim. His laugh became less frequent than his shudder or his sigh, andtaking Alley aside, he begged she would walk with him to the beach. 

"The say-breeze, " said he, "and a sate upon the rocks--upon ourthyme-bank, where we've often sat happily, Alley dear, will bring meto myself soon. I am tired, asthore machree, of all this noise andconfusion. Come away, darling, we'll be happier with one another thanwith all these people about us. "

His young bride accompanied him, and as they went, her happy heartbeating under that arm to whose support she had now a right, her lovethe while calm and secure in its own deep purity, she saw before them, in bright perspective, many, many years of domestic affection and peace. 

There they sat in the mellow sunset, until the soft twilight hadgradually melted away the lengthened shadows of the rocks about them. Their hands were locked in each other, their hearts burned withinthem, and a tenderness which can be felt only by souls equally pure andinnocent touched their delighted converse into something that might bedeemed beautiful and holy. 

Artless, humble, and happy pair! Sit on and enjoy the only brief glimpseof this earth's heaven which you will ever get. It is the last time thatheart will beat responsive to heart, and soul tremble to and mingle withsoul between you. 

Long before the hour of their, return, Felix had felt much worse thanduring any preceding part of the day. The vivid and affectionatehopes of future happiness expressed by Alley added to his concern, andincreased his tenderness towards her, especially when he contrasted hisown physical sensations with the unsuspicious character of her opinionconcerning his illness and the cause that produced it. 'Tis true hedisguised all this as long as he could; but at length, notwithstandinghis firmness, he was forced to acknowledge that pain overcame him. Withthe burning chill of fever bubbling through his blood--shivering yetscorching--he complained of the shooting pain in his head, and a strangeconfusion of mind, which the poor girl, from some of his incoherentexpressions, had attributed to his excess of affection. With wordsof comfort she soothed him; her arm now returned the support she hadreceived from his; she led him home, languid and half-delirious, whilstshe herself felt stunned as well by the violence as by the unaccountablenature of his illness. On reaching home they found that the noise ofsocial enjoyment had risen to the outrage of convivial extravagance; butthe moment he staggered in, supported only by the faithful arm ofhis wife, a solemn and apprehensive spirit suddenly hushed theirintemperance, and awed them into a conviction that such an illness uponthe marriage day must be as serious as it was uncommon. Felix was put tobed in pain and danger; but Alley smoothed his pillow, bound his head, and sat patient, and devoted, and wife-like, by his side. During allthat woeful night of sorrow she watched the feverish start, the wildglare of the half-opened eye, the momentary conscious glance, and themiserable gathering together of the convulsed limbs, hoping that eachpang would diminish in agony and that the morning might bring ease andcomfort. 

 "Poor girl, put on thy stifling widow's weeds, And 'scape at once from Hope's accursed bands!"

We feel utterly incapable of describing, during the progress of thisheavy night, the scorching and fiery anguish of his brother Hugh, orthe distracted and wailing sorrow of poor Maura. The unexpected anddelightful revulsion of feeling produced upon both, especially on theformer, by his temporary recovery, now utterly incapacitated them frombearing his relapse with anything like fortitude. The frantic remorse ofthe guilty man, and the stupid but pungent grief of his sister, appearedbut as the symptoms of weak minds and strong passions, when contrastedwith the deep but patient affliction of his innocent and uncomplainingwife. She wasted no words in sorrow; for during this hopeless night, self, happiness, affection, hope, were all forgotten in the absorbingefforts at his recovery. Never, indeed, did the miseries and calamitiesof life draw from the fruitful source of a wife's attached and faithfulheart, a nobler specimen of that pure and disinterested devotion whichcharacterizes woman, than was exhibited by the stricken-hearted AlleyBawn. 

There was something in this peculiar case, as, indeed there are in allfamily occurrences of a similar nature, which induced them to try uponthe suffering boy the full extent of their humble skill, rather thancall in a strange physician to witness the disastrous, perhaps fatal, effects of domestic violence. Had the cause of Felix's illness beenunknown to Hugh or Maura, they would have procured medical advice in theearly part of the night. Let us, however, not press too severely on therepentant brother. Shame, and remorse, and penitence, ought to pleadstrongly for "the hope deferred that made his heart sick. " Hugh'spassions arose to violence, but not to murder, a distraction which bothlaw and morality too frequently forget to make. 

When Hugh saw, however, that nothing except medical skill could savehim, he forgot his crime and its consequences. Stung to madness by hislove of Felix, and his fears for his recovery, he mounted a horse, andhad almost broken down the animal by over-exertion, ere he reached thevillage of B------, where the doctor he sought lived. 

After an impetuous and violent knocking the door was opened, and a manpale and horror-struck entered, whom the doctor was inclined to receiverather as the patient than the messenger. Yes! haggard, wild, yet weakand trembling, he staggered into the room, and, sinking on a seat, in avoice husky and hoarse said--

"Docthor! oh, docthor, you won't refuse to come! It's thrue he was mybrother--but I had not--I had not--oh--no--no--I had it not in my heartto murdher him! My brother is dyin'. Oh, come, docthor! come to mybrother, he's dyin', and 'twas I that struck, the blow. "

With a vehemence of grief that was pitiable, and an exhibition of thewildest gestures which characterize despair, he then uttered a cry thatrang through the house. 

"Oh, Felix agra, my brother, I'm your murdherer! My sister and I areboth wealthy--he's dyin' docthor--come, come. Oh, agra Felix--agraFelix! To see you well--to see you well--the wealth of the world, ifI had it, would go. My life--my life--docthor! Oh, that would be butlittle--but it, too, would go--I'd give it--all we have, my sister andI, to our blanket--to the shoes on our feet, and the coat and gown onour backs--all--all--you'll get--if you can save our brother, that Istruck down and murdhered!"

The doctor, a man of great skill and humanity, immediately orderedhis horse, and mounting him, accompanied Hugh to the sick bed of hisbrother. On arriving there, they found him worse; and never before, norduring his whole professional experience, had the doctor witnessedsuch a scene. Hugh took his place behind Felix, who, by the doctor'sdirection, was placed in a half-sitting, half-recumbent posture in thebed; his arms were placed distractedly about him, his breast was hispillow, and his cheek, wildly and with voracious affection, laid tohis. He was restrained from crying aloud, but his groans were enough towrench the heart from which they proceeded to pieces. Sympathy, in fact, was transferred from the sick boy to his brother; and perhaps more tearswere shed by the lookers-on from pity towards Hugh than Felix. 

But where was she, the bride and wife of a changeful day--of a day, inwhich the extremities of happiness and misery met? Oh, where but whereshe should and ought to be, at his bed-side, hoping against hope, soothing his wild ravings by her soft sweet voice; and when, in hisdelirium, the happy scene of the past day seemed reacted, then sheknelt, ever ready to lead him, by her words and caresses, into aforgetfulness of his present pain. In his desperate struggles he fanciedthey were tearing her from him; and when the strength of several mencould scarce restrain him, then came the mildness of her power. With hergentle hands and her fond, kind words she laid him in peace once more, and, kneeling by his side, cooled his burning temples with her palefingers, and wetted his parched lips with the draught prescribed by thephysician. When the crisis, however, approached, she saw by the keenglance of observant affection, that the doctor's manner betrayed hishopelessness of her husband's recovery. Then did her strength give way, and one violent fit of hysteric sobbing almost broke down her reasonand physical powers. Unavailing was all their tenderness, and fruitlessevery attempt at consolation. Even her own beloved mother failed. "Alley, asthore agruc machree, " said she, "don't give way to this, forit's sinful; it's wrong to cry so bitterly for the livin'. You know thatwhile there's life there's hope. God is merciful, and may think fit topity you, anien machree, and to spare him for the sake of our prayers, that your heart mayn't be broken. Here's the priest, too, an' sure it'sa comfort, if the Lord does take him from us, that he's not goin' widoutthe holy sacraments of the Church, to clear away any stain of sin thatmay be on him. "

Felix, tranquilized by the satisfaction that always results from theconsciousness of having received the rites of the Church, yet movedby the deep sobbings of his miserable brother, took his hand, and thusaddressed him--

"Hugh dear!"

"Oh, Felix, Felix, Felix darling, if you spake kind to me my brain willturn, and my heart will burst to pieces! Harsh, harsh, avourneen, speakharshly, cruelly, blackly--oh, say you won't forgive me--but no, that Icouldn't bear--forgive me in your heart, and before God, but don't spakewid affection to me, for then I'll not be able to bear it. "

"Hugh, " said Felix, from whose eyes the keenness of his brother'srepentance wrung tears, despite his burning agony; "Hugh dear"--and helooked pitifully in the convulsed face of the unhappy man. "Hugh, dear, it was only an accident, for if you had thought--that it would turnout--as it has done----But no matter now--you have my forgiveness--andyou deserve it; for Hugh dear, it was as much and more my ownthoughtlessness and self-will that caused it. Hugh dear, comfort andsupport Alley here, and Maura, too, Hugh; be kind to them both for poorFelix's sake. " He sank back, exhausted, holding his brother's hand inhis left, and his mute heart-broken bride's in his right. A calm, orrather torpor, followed, which lasted until his awakening spirit, inreturning consciousness of life and love, made a last effort to dissolvein a farewell embrace upon the pure bosom of his virgin wife. 

"Alley, " said he, "are you not my wife, and amn't I your husband? Whosehand should be upon me--in what arms but yours should I die? Alley, think of your own Felix--oh, don't let me pass altogether out of yourmemory an' if you'd wear a lock of my hair (many a time you used to curlit over on my cheek, for you used to say it was the same shade as yourown, and you used to compare them together), wear it for my sake, nextyour heart, and if ever you think of doin' a wrong thing, look at it, and you'll remember that Felix, who's now in the dust, always desiredyou to pray for the Almighty's grace, an' trust to Him for strengthagainst evil. But where are you, asthore? My eyes want a last look ofyou; I feel you--ay, I feel you in my breakin' heart, and sweet yourpresence in it, avourneen machree; but how is it that I cannot see you?Oh, my wife, my young wife, my spotless wife, be with me--near me!" Heclasped her to his heart, as if while he held her there he thought itcould not cease to beat; but in a moment, after one slight shudder, oneclosing pang, his grasp relaxed--his head fell upon her bosom--and he, Felix, who that morning stood up in the bloom of youth and manly beauty, with the cup of happiness touching his lips, was now a clod of thevalley. Half unconscious--almost unbelieving that all could be over, shegently laid him down. On looking into his face, her pale lips quivered;and as her mute wild gaze became fixed upon the body, slowly thedesolating truth forced itself upon her heart. She then sank upon herknees, and prayed to God that, if it were His will, and lawful for herin her misery to utter such a prayer, He would not part her indeath from him who had been to her far dearer than all that life nowcontained--without whom the world was now empty to her for ever. 

Quietly and calmly she then arose, and but for the settled wretchednessof her look, the stillness of her spirit might have been mistaken forapathy. Without resistance, without a tear, in the dry agony of burninggrief she gently gave herself up to the guidance of those who wept, while they attempted to soothe her. In reply to their attempts atconsolation she only uttered one brief sentence in Irish. "Oh, " saidshe, "God is good--still, still, this was a dark day to Felix and tome!"

At the inquest which followed, there was no proof to criminate thewretched brother; nor, to speak truly, were the jury anxious to findany. The man's shrieking misery was more wild and frightful than deathitself. From "the Dark Day" until this on which I write, he has neverbeen able to raise his heart or his countenance. Home he never leaves, except when the pressure of business compels him; and when he does, inevery instance he takes the most unfrequented paths and the loneliestby-roads, in order to avoid the face and eye of man. Better, indeed, to encounter flood or fire, than to suffer what he has borne, when themalicious or coarse-minded have reproached him, in what we trust, is hisrepentance, with his great affliction. 

Alley contrary to the earnest solicitations of Hugh and Maura, went backto reside with her mother. Four years have now passed, and the virginwidow is constant to her grief. With a bunch of yarn on her arm, she maybe occasionally seen in the next market-town; the chastened sorrow ofher look agreeing well with her mournful weeds. In vain is she pressedto mingle in the rustic amusements of her former companions; she cannotdo it, even to please her mother; the poor girl's heart is sorrow-struckfor ever. She will never smile again. As it is, however, the steadysubdued melancholy of her manner increases the respect, withoutlessening the love, of all who know her. Who, indeed, could see her, and hear her sad history without loving her purity, and her devotedaffection to the memory of him that was only the husband of a day, without pitying the stricken girl who suffered so much, and wishing thattime, which weans us from our greatest sorrows, may, by its influence, mellow her afflictions, until the bitterness of their spirit passes outof her soul. 

Reader, if you want a moral, look upon the wasted brow of HughO'Donnell, and learn to restrain your passions and temper within itsproper limits.