that have crossed my path and glared on
me, but without daring to abide my steadfast glance?"

"I am Francis Tyrrel," answered he, "in blood and body, as much as she
to whom I speak is Clara Mowbray."

"Then God have mercy on us both!" said Clara, in a tone of deep feeling.

"Amen!" said Tyrrel.--"But what avails this excess of agitation?--You
saw me but now, Miss Mowbray--Your voice still rings in my ears--You saw
me but now--you spoke to me--and that when I was among strangers--Why
not preserve your composure, when we are where no human eye can see--no
human ear can hear?"

"Is it so?" said Clara; "and was it indeed yourself whom I saw even
now?--I thought so, and something I said at the time--but my brain has
been but ill settled since we last met--But I am well now--quite well--I
have invited all the people yonder to come to Shaws-Castle--my brother
desired me to do it--I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing Mr.
Tyrrel there--though I think there is some old grudge between my brother
and you."

"Alas! Clara, you mistake. Your brother I have scarcely seen," replied
Tyrrel, much distressed, and apparently uncertain in what tone to
address her, which might soothe, and not irritate her mental malady, of
which he could now entertain no doubt.

"True--true," she said, after a moment's reflection, "my brother was
then at college. It was my father, my poor father, whom you had some
quarrel with.--But you will come to Shaws-Castle on Thursday, at two
o'clock?--John will be glad to see you--he can be kind when he
pleases--and then we will talk of old times--I must get on, to have
things ready--Good evening."

She would have passed him, but he took gently hold of the rein of her
bridle.--"I will walk with you, Clara," he said; "the road is rough and
dangerous--you ought not to ride fast.--I will walk along with you, and
we will talk of former times now, more conveniently than in company."

"True--true--very true, Mr. Tyrrel--it shall be as you say. My brother
obliges me sometimes to go into company at that hateful place down
yonder; and I do so because he likes it, and because the folks let me
have my own way, and come and go as I list. Do you know, Tyrrel, that
very often when I am there, and John has his eye on me, I can carry it
on as gaily as if you and I had never met?"

"I would to God we never had," said Tyrrel, in a trembling voice, "since
this is to be the end of all!"

"And wherefore should not sorrow