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me for a moment to view the being who loved me? Deborah, you are kind-hearted, I know; dismiss your anger for the present, and contrive to bring me in sight of the body.”

Me, is it, that will bring you in sight of Miss Lucy, poor darling ?-No, that I'll be bound I wont! We should have had a wedding in the house instead of a - burying if you had not been a base desaiver! I'll con

trive no such thing at any rate! Miss Jane may do as she will, but you wont persuade me.”

She was walking away, but Clinton stopped her, saying, with a dash of careless and melancholy humour, “O, Deborah, I see now how it is with you,

• To be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain.'

You cannot mean all this bitterness against me! Do you forget telling me all about O'Reilly and Ireland ? Come, I know you will forgive me, Debby! and I can assure

you, if it will be any satisfaction to you to learn it, that I am far from happy."

Happy, is it? Oh, then, ye'll never be happy again while the world stands, I'll wager any thing,” said Deborah ; but at the same time she relaxed her repulsive demeanour. Clinton perceiving this, urged his request to her with such determined persuasion that she yielded, and turning to Jane, said, " Its but a trifling matter that he asks, Miss Jane, darling ; I'm in a mind, if you have no objection, just to step with him up the backkitchen stairs. Maybe the sight of the corse 'll do his soul good."

“ You may do just as you think proper,” said Jane ; “ I cannot take upon me any of the blame.”

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“ Lave that to me, darling,” said Deborah; and Clinton, having gained his point, followed the latter, as she led the way with a stealthy footstep and an uplifted finger, to the chamber of death.

They reached the chamber unnoticed, and Deborah, laying her hand on the key of the door outside, whispered, “ This is the room, Mr. Clinton: you can go in now, but don't stop above a minute or two. I will stand in front of the door, and listen. If I hear any foot coming

I shall give one tap over the lock, and as soon as you hear it you must come out as fast as your legs will bear you, mind that."

Very well,” said Clinton; “ only be sure and make the tap soon enough, and loud enough, for I should not like to bring blame on you, Deborah, and if I were

I fear you would not find it easy to excuse yourself.”

“ Don't stand talking, sir, but go in, and make haste to come out,” cried Deborah, turning the key softly, and admitting him into the room. Maybe it was what I had no right to do, the bringing him here,” she said to herself, as she stood listening on the landing-place; “ but for the life of me I couldn't deny him. Sure and its no marvel at-all-at-all, that Miss Lucy brake her heart for him. Oh, murther! there's Mr. Arthur comin'! Was ever any thing so unlucky ?"

She rapped her knuckle on the door, not once only, but several times, and as the summons was not immediately answered by Clinton's appearance, put her head into the room, and cried, in as loud a whisper as she could produce,“ Sir, sir, Mr. Lee's comin?!"

“ By Jove, that's unfortunate!" exclaimed Clinton;

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drawer in the frame of the looking-glass caught his

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object there permanently in his remembrance. A small

and the words had hardly left his lips when he heard Arthur addressing Deborah thus :

Why are you standing here, Deborah? Is there any one in the chamber?” The Irish girl answered readily

Yes, a gintleman, there is, Mr. Arthur.” 6. Who is he???

" Whisht, sir,” said the cunning girl," or you will disturb his honour, the Pastor, for he has complained afore now against talkin' in this passage, which, he says, disturbs him at his prayers.”

My voice will not disturb him, Deborah. You have not answered my question—who is the gentleman within ?"

Deborah was seized with a fit of coughing, which afforded her an opportunity for preparing her next evasion.

you plase to step down stairs with me, Mr. Arthur, I have something to tell you,

which its my bounden duty not to concale."

“ Surely,” thought Clinton, “ she is not going to tell him I am here !” The next minute he heard them both go down stairs, and would have opened the door, and passed out, but it was fastened.

“ I have placed myself in a confoundedly awkward position here,” said he, aloud. His voice startled himself; it sounded like a rude, unhallowed discord, in

a scene as this in which he stood. A small glass lamp burnt dimly on a table by the bed on which the coffin was placed. Clinton approached it,

and surveyed the room, wishing to fix every

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attention, and he drew it out, almost without intending to do so: there were some articles of jewellery which he had seen Lucy wear, in it, and also a note, folded, and superscribed to himself. He returned the drawer to its place, but retained the note in his hand, and examined every letter of the direction with emotions strange and perplexed. Presently he opened the paper, and read two verses, written in small and delicate characters. He must have been destitute of feeling had they not affected him. Their simplicity and truth touched the chords of his better nature, and, too late, he regretted that he had trified with the heart that had dictated them. They were as follows:

Farewell! was never wish so true,
As this which Lucy breathes for you;
Was never pi ayer so fervent given
Into the sacred charge of heaven.

When Lucy's form and voice are gone,
And one low grave is hers alene;
When of her faults and griefs none tell,
May you with health and hopes—FARE-WELL.

His eyes filled with tears—he was overpowered almost to suffocation. The note was put in his breast; his feet approached the bed; he bent over the coffin and ventured to touch the hand which had penned the verses; it was cold and fair as unsullied ice--nevertheless he raised it an instant to his lips, then dropped it with despair ; he spoke the name of the deceased girl with fondness and anguish, but there was no response on her lips. Mysterious change! at his lightest whisper, a little month ago, her heart would have palpitated violently; her eyes would have betrayed a sweet confusion ; her cheeks would have been dyed with blushes, pure and fresh as those of

morning ; now, the heart was pulseless, the eye unmoved under its dull film, and the cheek had parted with colour for ever.

His

power over her could be exerted no more. A mightier magician, had bound her in his spells.

The door was unlocked, and Deborah stepped in on tiptoe, securing it behind her, and then standing to listen. Arthur was heard retiring to his own room.

“ It's a nice predicament that I have got myself in for you, Mr. Clinton,” said she.

“ I hope you have not told Mr. Lee that I am here," said Clinton.

“ Lave that to me,” said Deborah ; “ I told him as a grate matter, that I'd seen you about the house, and he's gone back to his chamber—no, as I'm a true catholic, he's a comin' to this room, and sure enough he'll come in this time. O, where'll I hide myself out of his

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sight !

“ Rather talk of hiding me,” said Clinton, looking to see if there was any closet in the room. There was not, and he had only just time to throw himself down on the floor on the opposite side of the bed, and to bid Deborah unlock the door, before Arthur entered, with a slow, sad step. Deborah was very busy smoothing the furniture about the bed, and dusting the mahogany posts.

“You will oblige me by leaving me alone here, a few minutes,” said Arthur; and his monotonous and sunken voice, still expressed how much his heart was burdened.

“ Oh to be sure, sir-but now I think of it,” said she, feigning to be vexed with herself, “ Miss Jane said an hour ago, that she wanted to spake with you, and I forgot

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