ttered, in all the fervor of devotion, that my selfish waywardness and
my yearning for ambition might not bring upon me, in after-life, years
of unavailing regret! As I thought thus, I reached the brow of a little
mountain ridge, beneath which, at a distance of scarcely more than a mile,
the dark woods of O'Malley Castle stretched, before me. The house itself
was not visible, for it was situated in a valley beside the river. But
there lay the whole scene of my boyhood: there the little creek where my
boat was kept, and where I landed on the morning after my duel with Bodkin;
there stretched for many a mile the large, callow meadows, where I trained
my horses, and schooled them for the coming season; and far in the
distance, the brown and rugged peak of old Scariff was lost in the clouds.
The rain by this time had ceased, the wind had fallen, and an almost
unnatural stillness prevailed around; but yet the heavy masses of vapor
frowned ominously, and the leaden hue of land and water wore a gloomy and
depressing aspect. My impatience to get on increased every moment, and
descending the mountain at the top of my speed, I at length reached the
little oak paling that skirted the wood, opened the little wicket, and
entered the path. It was the self-same one I had trod in revery and
meditation the night before I left my home. I remember, too, sitting down
beside the little well which, enclosed in a frame of rock, ran trickling
across the path to be lost among the gnarled roots and fallen leaves
around. Yes, this was the very spot.

Overcome for the instant by my exertion and by my emotion, I sat down upon
the stone, and taking off my cap, bathed my heated and throbbing temples in
the cold spring, Refreshed at once, I was about to rise and press onward,
when suddenly my attention was caught by a sound which, faint from
distance, scarce struck upon my ear. I listened again; but all was still
and silent, the dull splash of the river as it broke upon the reedy shore
was the only sound I heard. Thinking it probably some mere delusion of my
heated imagination, I rose to push forward; but at the moment a slight
breeze stirred in the leaves around me, the light branches rustled and bent
beneath it, and a low moaning sound swelled upward, increasing each instant
as it came; like the distant roar of some mighty torrent it grew louder as
the wind bore it towards me, and now falling, now swelling, it burst
forth into one loud, prolonged cry