that she would marry Donnell McDonnell before
I went away to America, which would ease my
mind about her, and also about him. For I
felt the greatest pity in the world for kind big
Donnell's disappointment.

My stepmother was provoked at my sad face
next day, and called me ungrateful. But when
I cried bitterly she got a little kinder, and in the
evening allowed me to go into Ballymena to see
my friend Gracie. So towards sundown, when
the snow was getting red upon the fences, I
wrapped my shawl about me and set off for the
town; sobbing loudly to ease my heart, all
along the lonely road, where there was no one
to hear me but the robins. The brown trees
against the dusky red sky, the white swelling
lines of the fields, the dark chimneys of the
town on before me, were all blent in a dismal
maze, when who should leap over a stile and
stand beside me but Gracie's great lover,
Donnell. I told him my eyes were only watering
with the cold, and he turned and walked
alongside of me for a good way, while we talked
of Gracie of course. He was very angry at
her, and said she was playing fast and loose with
him, and making him the sport of the town and
country. I took Gracie's part, and so we went on
till we came to the last white gate on the road,
and began to meet the townspeople. Then I
told him I was going away, and he looked so
vexed that I nearly cried again. I felt so glad
to see him sorry.

"Well, little Bet," said he, "we must give
you a good dance over in yon big farm-house of
ours before you go. And, in the mean time——-"

"I'll see to your business, Donnell," said I,
smiling. "Never fear but I'll do your business
to the last."

Then he shook my two hands till he nearly
squeezed them into jelly, and left me.

When I went into Miss Doran's it was past
the work hour, and the girls were putting on
their bonnets to go away; Gracie only was
sitting close to the candle, putting the flowers on
a ball-dress for one of the county ladies. She
having the nicest taste, had always the honour
of giving the finishing touches to the most
particular work. She looked very tired, but oh, so
handsome, with her pale cheek against the yellow
light, and her dark head bending over a mass of
white and rose-colour tulle.

"A bud here," said she, "and a spray there,
and then I have done. You'll come home with
me and sleep. That cross stepmother of yours
won't see you again to-night."

"Don't talk that way, Gracie," said I; "but
I came intending to stay." And the work being
finished, we went home to her lodgings. .

A lovely bunch of flowers was lying on her
table, and she laughed and blushed, and looked
beautiful when she saw it.

"Who is that from, Gracie?" said I.
"Donnell?"

"No, indeed," said she, tossing her head.
But I was sure that was a fib, for she looked as
happy as possible, lying resting herself in her
arm-chair beside the fire, while I set out the
tea-things. She looking so glad, and the shabby
room looking so snug, and our little tea-drinking
being so cozy, I could not bear to tell her
the bad news now, and began to set about
Donnell's business.

"Gracie," said I, "I wish you would marry
Donnell soon."

"Soon?" said she, opening her eyes, and
looking at me angrily. "I'll never marry him!"

"But you know, Gracie," said I, getting hot
about it, "that you ought to marry him. He
says—-that is, I know—-you have made him the
laughing-stock of the country, and——"

"Very fine!" cried she. "And so he has
been complaining to you, has he?"

"I did not say that," said I; "but, oh,
Gracie, I know you like some one. I saw you
smiling over a letter the other day, just the way
you are smiling now."

"And what if I do?" said she, laughing and
tossing her head; "that does not prove that it
must be Donnell."

"There is no one else so good," said I, eagerly.
"It could not be any one else."

"'Pon my word," said she, staring at me, "I
think you had better go and marry him
yourself."

"I? Oh, Gracie!" said I, starting up and
sitting down again, and beginning to cry, "I
wanted to tell you that I am going to America."

You may be sure we talked no more about
Donnell that night.

Dormell did not fail to keep his word about
giving me a feast before I left the country. He
invited three pipers to play, and half the countryside
to dance. Gracie and I met at the crossroads
roads, and walked over to the farm together, she
bringing a troop of beaux with her from the
town. The farm is a dear old place, with orchard
trees growing up round the house, and it looked
so homely that frosty night. Donnell's mother
met us at the door, and unpinned our shawls in
her own room. Gracie looked beautiful in a
pretty new dress and bright ribbon. Donnell's
mother stroked my hair with her hand, and stuck
a bit of holly in the front of my black frock.
She kept me with her, after Gracie had gone
down-stairs, holding my hand, and asking me
about my going to America. And the place felt
so safe and warm, and she was so kind and
motherly, after what I was accustomed to at
home, that my heart got so sore I could scarcely
bear it.

We had a great tea-drinking in the parlour,
and then we went out to the kitchen, and the
pipers fell to work, and Gracie was as amiable
as possible to Donnell. But just in the middle
of our dancing the latch of the back door was
lifted, and Squire Hannan walked in in his top-
boots.

"I wanted to speak to you on business,
McDonnell," he said, "but I will not disturb
you now."

"Will you do us the honour of joining us,
sir?" said Donnell. Squire Hannan needed
no second invitation. He was soon making his
bow before Gracie, and Donnell saw no more of