by that notorious Master of Arts,
Little Cupid. Oona, or Una, O'Brien, was in truth a most fascinating and
beautiful brunette; tall in stature, light and agile in all her motions,
cheerful and sweet in temper, but with just as much of that winning
caprice, as was necessary to give zest and piquancy to her whole
character. Though tall and slender, her person was by no means thin;
on the contrary, her limbs and figure were very gracefully rounded,
and gave promise of that agreeable fulness, beneath or beyond which no
perfect model of female proportion can exist. If our readers could get
one glance at the hue of her rich cheek, or fall for a moment under the
power of her black mellow eye, or witness the beauty of her white teeth,
while her face beamed with a profusion of dimples, or saw her while in
the act of shaking out her invincible locks, ere she bound them up with
her white and delicate hands--then, indeed, might they understand why no
war of the elements could prevent Connor O'Donovan from risking life and
limb sooner than disappoint her in the promise of their first meeting.

Oh that first meeting of pure and youthful love! With what a glory is it
ever encircled in the memory of the human heart! No matter how long or
how melancholy the lapse of time since its past existence may be, still,
still, is it remembered by our feelings when the recollection of every
tie but itself has departed. The charm, however, that murmured its
many-toned music through the soul of Una O'Brien was not, upon the
evening in question, wholly free from a shade of melancholy for which
she could not account; and this impression did not result from any
previous examination of her love for Connor O'Donovan, though many
such she had. She knew that in this the utmost opposition from both her
parents must be expected; nor was it the consequence of a consciousness
on her part, that in promising him a clandestine meeting, she had taken
a step which could not be justified. Of this, too, she had been aware
before; but, until the hour of appointment drew near, the heaviness
which pressed her down was such as caused her to admit that the
sensation, however painful and gloomy, was new to her, and bore a
character distinct from anything that could proceed from the various
lights in which she had previously considered her attachment. This was,
moreover, heightened by the boding aspect of the heavens and the dread
repose of the evening, so unlike anything s