Mains—they call it Castle, now—but ride, I
tell you. Tell the proud man there that I am
dying fast, but that I wish to die where I
have lived—where my mother—where we
have all died. Ask him not to refuse me
this. It won't delay him long. Go, go; the
black horse is kept saddled on purpose. You
will be back again in two hours."

Sir Douglas Brand sate silent by the side
of his daughter Mary. Ah! what a pretty
girl she was! What Spanish eyes, spreading
Andalusian sunshine over English cheeks!
For she was surprisingly fair in the
complexion, and yet dark as midnight in eyes and
hair. And good, too; and clever. And, at
the present moment, very much surprised at
her father's behaviour. That hard man's
heart had been touched by the sight of the
picture. He now was absorbed in happy
recollections. He told his daughter as much
of his previous history as his pride would let
him reveal. He said, that at a certain part
of the road a piece of good fortune had
befallen him, from which he dated all his
prosperity. He did not say what it was, but
he pulled up the carriage, and helped her to
dismount, and took her arm lovingly in his,
and walked along the foot-way; and when
they came to the grass bank he had sat
upon——tramp! tramp! tramp! There
comes the sound of a horse's hoofs at speed!
The horseman, as he approached, pulled up,
out of respect to the lady; and Sir Douglas,
turning round, gazed on the exact counterpart
part of the scene that had filled his heart for
so many a year. There was the same noble-
looking youth—the same kind expression—
the same graceful figure. The black horse
was moving slowly on.

"In the name of Heaven!" cried Sir Douglas,
"tell me who you are! You have haunted
me from that hour to this!—aye, since the
time when you gave me the four golden guineas
until now that I am Sir Douglas Brand, with
half the lands of the county in my hands!"

"You, then, are Sir Douglas Brand," said
Charles, dismounting. "I was on my way to
wait on you, with a most humble petition."

"No, no! " said the old man, still wandering
in his thoughts, "not a petition to me; I
cannot hear it."

"Perhaps the young lady," said Charles,
"will exert her influence on behalf of my
poor father. He is dying, sir,—dying in
poverty, and without a friend—except myself;
and I am as powerless as he. All he asks
is, leave to die at home. Oh! don't turn him
out for the few days he may have to live!"

"Your father? Your father? Aye! It
was nearly forty years ago. His name?"

"The same as my own," said the young
soldier, ''Charles Harburn, of Glen Bara."

"We are on our way to Glen Bara," replied
Sir Douglas. "We will go with you. This
must be done by no hands but mine."

"Father," said Charles, gently opening the
parlour-door, "don't let the news agitate you.
Sir Douglas Brand and his daughter are come
here to see you."

"He is a tyrant—an oppressor. I won't
see him," said the major, raising his head
from the sofa where he lay.

"But he repents—he is changed and
softened, now," said the baronet himself, going
up to the invalid. "We have met before.
It is not my fault we have not discovered we
were friends."

"May I die in my own house?" inquired
the major, scarcely comprehending his visitor's
language.

"If wealth can keep you alive—if kindness
can prolong your days—you shall not die, my
truest friend and earliest benefactor. I have
discovered you at last! Don't you remember
our prayer together, in the road, near Falder
Hill, that heaven would join Dumbarton and
Ailsa Craig?"

A light shone in the major's eye—a smile
came to his lips. " I remember," he said;
"it all comes back to me at once. I was
riding black Angus. There was a little boy
in misery. I relieved him. And Nancy—
you wouldn't believe it, sir,—she went off
and married an old piece of mahogany, of the
name of Nobbs; and three years ago I saw
her in Falder Mains. She was Ailsa Craig.
We never came together. So the prayer, you
see, was useless."

"Perhaps not," said Sir Douglas, looking
towards Charles and Mary; "it seems to me
quite possible, Major Harburn, that the union
may still take place. But in the meantime we
must devote ourselves to the restoration of
your health. You shall find Glen Bara as clear
from debt as on the day when you took possession.
The sum you advanced me was a loan
which has prospered greatly. As the first
instalment, I will pay over to your son,
tomorrow, twenty thousand pounds—and I am
ready to mortgage Mary as security for the
rest."

THE ROVING ENGLISHMAN.

A BULGARIAN POST-HOUSE.

IT is in the gray of the dawn that we ride
through the gates of Rasgràd, having already
travelled a stage before daylight. The mighty
clang of many anvils forging instruments
of warfare, nevertheless, smites harshly
on our ears, and the fierce glow of the
furnaces strikes ruddily on our sight; for
the trade of the armourer is the busiest in
Rasgràd.

Our tired horses go steaming along through
the heavy morning dews, and our breath
comes in mimic clouds through our damp
beards and comforters sprinkled over with
watery jewels. The ground is wet and slippery,
and we feel sufficiently chilled and
hungry as we thread the tortuous filthy
streets, and at last come abruptly on the
post-house.