to assume. Her face, fresh and roseate,
full of youth, loveliness, and feeling, was
at the same time grave and anxious, as
she gazed in speechless wonder on the
scene.

"Miss Maxwell! " Patterson exclaimed,
"in the name of Heaven, what news? How
is all at the Mount? Yet, on this dreadful
day what but ill can happen?"

"Nothing is amiss, that I know of," said
the young lady, "we are safe at home. The
fire has not come near us."

"Thank God!" said Robert. "I was
going to your house, when I fell in with
this unfortunate family. Will you ride back
and send us a cart?"

"But I beg you will come with me, for I,
too, was going to you."

"To me! " cried the young man, in the
utmost astonishment. "Then all is not right.
Is George well?"

"I hope so," replied Miss Maxwell; but
the tears started into her eyes at the same
moment, and Robert Patterson gave a groan
of apprehension.

"I hope so," added the young lady,
recovering her self-possession; "but that is the
point I want to ascertain. Yesterday, he
went with Turcen into the hills to bring in
cattle, and this morning the fire surprised
them when they had taken two different
sweeps along the side of a range. Turcen
could not find George again, but made
his way home; hoping his master had done
the same. George has not yet come, and
the first is raging so fiercely in the hills,
that I could think of nothing but coming
to you for your advice and assistance."

"Thank you, Ellen!" said Robert with a
sad emotion. "I will find him if he be alive."
He sprung upon his horse; and, telling the
unhappy family that he would send them
immediate assistance, both he and Miss
Maxwell galloped away.

We will not attempt to divulge their conversation
on the way; but will let the reader a
little into the mutual relations of these two
families and these young people. Miss Ellen
Maxwell and her brother George were the
sole remaining members of their family. As
the nearest neighbours of the Pattersons,
they had grown into intimate friends. George
and Robert had been play-fellows in Van
Diemen's Land; and here, where they had
come in their boyhood, they were school-
fellows. Since then they had gradually grown,
from a similarity ot tastes and modes of life,
the most intimate friends. It was not likely
that  Robert Patterson and Ellen Maxwell
could avoid liking one another. They
possessed everything in mind, person, and estate,
which made such an attachment the most
natural thing in the world. Ellen was
extremely attached to Mrs. Patterson, for whom
she had the highest veneration; Ellen had
received an excellent education in Edinburgh,
whither she had been sent to her friends. In
her nature she was frank, joyous, and affectionate;
but not without a keen sense of
womanly pride, which gave a certain
dignity to her manner, and a reputation for
high spirit.

All had gone well between herself and
Robert till some six months ago. But, since
then, there had sprung up a misunderstanding.
Nobody could tell how it had arisen;
nobody except Ellen knew; and whatever
was the secret cause, she locked it impenetrably
within her own bosom. All at once
she had assumed a distant and haughty manner
towards Robert Patterson. From him
she did not conceal that she felt she had
cause for dissatisfaction, but she refused to
explain. When, confounded at the circumstance,
he sought for an explanation, she bade him
search his own memory and his heart,
and they would instruct him. She insisted
that they should cease to regard themselves
as affianced, and only consented that nothing
as yet should be said on the subject to her
brother or Mrs. Patterson, on the ground
that it would most painfully afflict them.

Ellen, who used to be continually riding
over to see Mrs. Patterson with her brother,
now rarely appeared, and proudly declined to
give her reasons for the change in her; adding
that she must absent herself altogether, if
the subject were renewed. To her brother
she was equally reserved, and he attributed
her conduct to caprice; bidding Robert take
no notice of it. Ellen was not without other
admirers, but that was nothing new. One
young man, who had lately come into the
neighbourhood, paid her assiduous attention,
and gossip did not fail to attribute the cause
of Robert Patterson's decline of favour to his
influence. But Ellen gave no countenance to
such a supposition. She was evidently under
no desire to pique her old lover by any marked
predilection for a new one. Her nature was
too noble for the pettiness of coquetry, and
any desire to add poignancy to coldness. On
the other hand, it was clear to the quietly
watchful eye of her brother, that she was
herself even more unhappy than Robert.
Her eyes often betrayed the effects of secret
weeping, and the paleness of her cheek
belied the assumed air of cheerfulness that
she wore.

Things were in this uncomfortable state at
the outbreak of the fire. It was, therefore, a
most cheering thought to Patterson that, in
her distress, she had flown first, and at once
to him. This demonstrated confidence in his
friendship. True, on all occasions, she had
protested that her sense of his high moral
character was not an iota abated; but, in
this spontaneous act, Robert's heart
persuaded himself that there lay something
more.

No sooner did he reach the Mount, than,
leaving Ellen to send off assistance to the
Fehans, he took Turcen the stockman, and
rode into the forest hills. It was soon dark,