t a hearty one.

"Well, Phil?"

"I said she was a fine girl, sir," said he, measuredly.

"But she's an uncommon fine girl, Phil, eh?"

"I think she is, sir."

"Well?"

Phil was twirling his hat in an abstracted way between his knees. "I
don't think she's to be won very easily," said he at last.

"Nonsense, Phil! Faint heart never won. Make a bold push for it, my boy.
The best birds drop at a quick shot."

"Do they?" said Phil, with a smile of incredulity that the old gentleman
did not comprehend.

He found, indeed, a much larger measure of hope in a little hint that
was let fall by Rose two days after. "I wouldn't despair if I were you,
Phil," she had whispered in his ear.

Ah, those quiet, tender, sisterly words of encouragement, of cheer, of
hope! Blest is the man who can enjoy them! and accursed must he be who
scorns them, or who can never win them.

Phil, indeed, had never given over most devoted and respectful
attentions to Adele; but he had shown them latterly with a subdued and
half-distrustful air, which Adele with her keen insight had not been
slow to understand. Trust a woman for fathoming all the shades of doubt
which overhang the addresses of a lover!

Yet it was not easy for Phil, or indeed for any other, to understand or
explain the manner of Adele at this time. Elated she certainly was in
the highest degree at the thought of meeting and welcoming her father;
and there was an exuberance in her spirits when she talked of it, that
seemed almost unnatural; but the coming shadow of the new mother whom
she was bound to welcome dampened all. The Doctor indeed had warned her
against the Romish prejudices of this newly found relative, and had
entreated her to cling by the faith in which she had been reared; but it
was no fear of any such conflict that oppressed her;--creeds all
vanished under the blaze of that natural affection which craved a
motherly embrace and which foresaw only falsity.

What wonder if her thought ran back, in its craving, to the days long
gone,--to the land where the olive grew upon the hills, and the sunshine
lay upon the sea,--where an old godmother, with withered hands clasped
and raised, lifted up her voice at nightfall and chanted,--

"O sanctissima,
O piissima,
Dulcis virgo Maria,
Mater amata,
Intemerata,
Ora, ora, pro nobis!"

The Doctor would have been shocked had he heard the words tripping from
the tongue of Adele; yet, for her, they ha