nor what
brought me here to-day. I came to throw my last stake for happiness."
He paused, and took her hand in his. "I came," said he,--and his lips
trembled as he spoke,--"I came to ask you to be my wife!"

Mary withdrew her hand, which he had scarcely dared to press, and leaned
upon the chimney-piece without speaking. It rarely happens that such
an announcement is made to a young lady quite unexpectedly; such was,
however, the case here: for nothing was she less prepared! Cashel, it
is true, had long ceased to be indifferent to her; the evenings of his
visits at the cottage were sure to be her very happiest; his absences
made dreary blanks. The inartificial traits of his character had at
first inspired interest; his generous nature, and his manly leaning
to right, had created esteem of him. There were passages of romantic
interest in his former life which seemed so well to suit his bold and
dashing independence; and there was also an implicit deference, an
almost humility, in the obedience he tendered to her grandfather which
spoke much for one whom sudden wealth and prosperity might be supposed
to have corrupted. Yet, all this while, had she never thought of what
impression she herself was making.

"I have but one duty," said she at last, in a faint whisper.

[Illustration: 188]

"Might I not share it with you, Mary?" said he, again taking her hand
between his own; "you would not grudge me some part of his affection?"

"Who crossed the window there?" cried she, starting; "did you not see a
figure pass?"

"No, I saw no one,--I thought of none, save you."

"I am too much frightened to speak. I saw someone stop before the window
and make a gesture, as if threatening,--I saw it in the glass."

Cashel immediately hurried from the room, and, passing out, searched
through the shrubberies on either side of the cottage, but without
success. On examining closely, however, he could detect the trace
of recent footsteps on the wet grass, but lost the direction on the
gravel-walk; and it was in a frame of mind far from tranquil that be
reentered the room.

"You saw no one?" said she, eagerly.

"Not one."

"Nor any appearance of footsteps?"

"Yes, I did, or fancied I did, detect such before the window; but why
should this alarm you, or turn your mind from what we spoke of? Let me
once more--"

"Not now--not now, I beg of you; a secret misgiving is over me, and I am
not generally a coward; but I have not the collec