im. It is true, indeed, that one night of
sleepless reflection had suggested another counsel, but had altered not
his desire that the mystery should be preserved.

He was confused, therefore, at the peril he had so narrowly escaped,
and for a moment was silent; at length he resumed, in a tone of assumed
ease,--

"'Going away!' sounds to one like me, who have lived a life of
wandering, so like pleasure that I always associate it with new scenes
of enjoyment; I think all the sorrow is reserved for those who remain
behind,--the deserted."

"So it may," said she, "with those who, like yourself, have roamed
the world in the excitement of ardent youth, glorying in enterprise,
thirsting for adventure; but there are others--ourselves, for
instance--whose humble fortunes have linked them with one class of
scenes and objects till they have grown part of our very natures; so
that we only know the world as it is associated with things familiar
to daily use. There are, doubtless, plants of more gorgeous foliage and
fairer flowers in other countries, but _we_ shall never learn to look at
them as we do upon these that speak to us of home, of spring and summer,
when they gladdened _us_, of autumn and winter, when our culture cared
for _them_. There are sunsets more rich and glowing, but if we see them,
it will be to think of that sinking orb which sent its last rays over
that wide river, and lit up in a golden glory this little chamber. There
's not a charm the fairest clime can own but will have its highest merit
in recalling some humble scene that tells of 'home.'"

"I never could leave a spot so dear to me as this were!" cried Cashel,
who watched with ecstasy the impassioned beauty of her features.

"Do not say _that_," said she, seriously. "We can all of us do what we
ought, however it may try our courage. Yes, I say courage," said she,
smiling, "since I fancy it is a property you have a due respect for. If
we leave scenes so dear to us as these, it is because we feel it a
duty; and a duty fulfilled is a buckler against most sorrows. But we
are wandering into a very sad theme,--at least, to judge from your grave
looks. What news have you of your gay company?"

"I see but little of them," said Cashel, abruptly.

"What a strange host!--and how do they amuse themselves?"

"As they fancy, I believe. I only know I never interfere with them,
and they are kind enough to reciprocate the civility; and so we get on
admirably."

"I