out and walked rapidly away, passing so near O'Carroll who concealed himself behind the trunk of a large tree, that he could easily have grasped his garments. He had scarcely disappeared from view, when the cottage door again flew open, and O'Carroll's blood boiled in his veins, as he beheld Colonel Grahame, with Marion Spencer leaning on his arm, come out and walk towards a little path which ran along the foot of the rock.

She seemed to rest upon him with an air of confidence and affection, and O'Carroll thought her neither inattentive nor indifferent to his words, while he stooped towards her and seemed to address her with tender

ness.

Regardless of the alarm which his sudden appearance might occasion Marion, and of the inhumanity of disturbing her, in a moment of affliction; regardless of every thing, in fact, save the suggestions of rage and jealousy, O'Carroll rushed from the place of his concealment, and advanced precipitately to the path along which they were walking. His countenance was inflamed with passion, and springing directly before Grahame, without daring to glance at Marion, he exclaimed in a voice, nearly inarticulate with rage,

"Wretch, cowardly and base! is this your boasted honor? this the courage and the principle, which prompted you to refuse a fair and manly challenge; but does not prevent your stooping to the meanest arts of deception and hypocrisy."

He was proceeding with the same violence of gesture and expression, when a shriek from Marion interrupted him; and but for the supporting arm of Grahame, she would have fallen to the ground. He turned to O'Carroll as he raised her, and said, with a look and an accent of severe reproach,

"Selfish and unfeeling man! to pursue me with your invectives, even to the abode of wretchedness and death! Leave me! depart from this place, nor violate with your ungovernable passions, this miserable asylum of the afflicted and unfortunate."

"I will not depart," exclaimed O'Carroll; "neither your threats nor your reproaches have power to drive me away wherever you go, there I am resolved to follow you."

"To what purpose, sir, is this declaration made ?" demanded Grahame haughtily; "for it is impossible that you can intend to adhere to it."

"I shall most resolutely adhere to it," returned O'Carroll; " nor will I quit you till you give me the satisfaction I demand."

"As a gentleman, as a soldier, as a man of honor and truth, I forbid your following me," said Grahame."Since you persist in your absurd demand, remain here, and when I have conveyed this lady to the house, I will return to you."

"In consideration of the lady's situation," said O'Carroll, "I yield to your request, though if your return be long delayed, I may be induced to violate my promise, and come to assist you in the pleasant task of recovering your fair charge."

Grahame regarded him a moment in stern displeasure; then raising the still insensible Marion in his arms, walked hastily towards the house. O'Carroll, too angry even for the momentary admission of tender feelings, and almost persuaded that she had intentionally deserted and deceived him, looked upon her lifeless form in gloomy silence, ashamed even to betray an emotion of compassion towards her in the presence of him, who, he thought, was secretly triumphing in his wretchedness. But the instant Grahame turned to leave him, the relentings of love melted his heart, and in an agony of tender sorrow, he stood gazing after her, when Talbot, who, in his place of concealment, had overheard the conversation and witnessed the scene, abruptly joined him.

"I fear you have been hasty," said he: "there must be some misunderstanding; for Grahame's countenance and manner assure me there is no intentional deception.'

"And are you too, imposed upon by the fair seeming of this man?" asked O'Carroll impatiently. "Did no other proof condemn him, the sudden swoon of Miss Spencer is a sufficient evidence of guilt."

"It may be of her's" returned Talbot, "and not neeessarily involve the truth of Grahame. But the mystery of the affair baffles all conjecture, and I confess I cannot rationally account for a single circumstance."

"I see no mystery," said O'Carroll; "I have only been the dupe of a villain, and these good weapons shall repay the injury."

"But Grahame will not fight," said Talbot; " and I know not any other mode of revenge which you can adopt, unless you pay him in his own coin, and win back Marion, with as much art and secrecy as you imagine he has used to deceive you.'

"I scorn to imitate so base an example," said O'Carroll; "and as for Marion, Talbot-passionately as I love her, I would not wish her to be mine, if she has, indeed, been guilty of the perfidy which I suspect."

"If you suspect her of falsehood," said Talbot, "how is it that you cherish such deep resentment against the object, who has superseded you in her affection? A perfidious woman is not worthy a sigh of regret."

"It is not because he has won her, but because he has done so by unfair means, that I am irritated against him," said O'Carroll. "If he had candidly acknowledged his designs and his love, I should have wished him happiness, and have seen with calmness, the possession of Marion transferred to him. But to be made the dupe of his hypocrisy, the object of his derision, it is insufferable. With all your equanimity, Talbot, you would not endure it better than myself."

"Perhaps not," said Talbot; "though I should not envy him the possession of a woman, who had already forsaken two lovers, and could be so readily won by a third."

"I will not believe that she has done so," said O'Carroll; "her father, I am persuaded, had much to do in forcing her from me; and also in bestowing her on that

villain Dalkeith, if indeed it be true that she did accept his addresses. We know nothing of her present circamstances, nor what powerful motive may induce her to yield to Grahame's wishes. I ever thought her greatest fault, a want of stability and firmness. She is so gentle and affectionate, that she is ever guided by others, and is ready to renounce her own happiness, if by so doing she can increase that of her friends."

"It is an amiable disposition," returned Talbot; "but I should wish a little spirit and decision mingled with these soft virtues. And really, O'Carroll, I think even you would weary of perpetual smiles and sweetness, and long for a dash of agreeable acid to vary the insipidity of your wedded life."

Perhaps so," said O'Carroll, coldly; "but I think I am like to have sufficient acid before I enter the pale of matrimony, to prevent my wishing for it afterward. Though, if indeed Marion Spencer, with all her innocence and purity, has proved herself a vain and fickle coquette, may heaven forbid, that I should ever more garner my happiness in the storehouse of a woman's frail affections."

"Grahame is approaching us," said Talbot; "shall 1 retire, or remain to witness your interview ?"

"Remain, by all means," said O'Carroll; "perhaps I may find service for you, though methinks he steps less haughtily than usual, as if he dreaded to encounter the face of his accuser. 99

CHAPTER X.

"There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;
For I am armed so strong in honesty,

That they pass by me, as the idle wind,
Which I respect not."

Shakspeare.

GRAHAME, however, did not walk with less decision than usual; though O'Carroll, resolved to believe him. guilty, was willing to fancy its consciousness evinced, in every gesture and expression. He advanced with a firm and lofty step; and after saluting Talbot, said, with a serious and authoritative air,

"What inquiries do you wish to make of me, Captain O'Carroll? and why is it, that you persecute and insult me with your resentment and unjust suspicions ?"

"Tell me, in the first place," said O'Carroll, fiercely, why you have hidden the lady, with whom you were just now walking, in this miserable place, apart from all observation and inquiry?"

"It seems she has not been hidden from your's," returned Grahame, "though her sex and her misfortunes ought to have protected her from insult."

"Insult!" repeated O'Carroll; "and who, sir, has presumed to insult her?"

"You, sir," returned Grahame; "by intruding upon her retirement, and alarining her with the violence of your gestures and expressions. Was it maaly, was it honorable, Captain O'Carroll, to seek me at such a moment for the avowed purpose of a quarrel; and to violate the gentleness and delicacy of the female character by the most bitter and intemperate language?"

"Why, then, did you force me to it, by refusing the honorable satisfaction I demanded?" exclaimed O'Carroll; "and, with a cowardice which I did not expect from you, decline the fair challenge that I gave ?"