and, perhaps, invite the parlour to "step up,"
with a running commentary to us: "A very
well-informed man, that Corrigan; none of your
narrow-minded bigots. I always think he
must be connected with the press, he has
such a leading-article way of talking." Then
my aunt, who was a keen politician, would
draw the candle closer, hold up the news-
paper in dangerous proximity to the flame,
and plunge into the contents; every now and
then murmuring loud comments, sometimes
complimentary, but more frequently the
reverse, on men and things; occasionally
reading out remarkably uninteresting
passages, which used to clash drolly enough
with our young sentimentalities whispered
under cover of the newspaper.

I well remember the fatal evening on
which— grown by habit secure in my aunt's
absorption— I ventured some more than
usually demonstrative expression of feelings,
which not even the unromantic influence of
yellow stockings and the refrigerating routine
of a lawyer's office had prevented from
growing up in my heart towards my pretty
playfellow. Never shall I forget the
petrifying effect of my aunt's keen black eyes,
piercing through me over the top of the
paper. A startling silence and stillness fell
down at once upon us, broken only by the
loud and awful Hem! with which my aunt
cleared her throat for action.

What terrific address might have followed,
who can tell ? had not a tap at the door at the
imminent moment announced the never more
welcome Corrigan. My aunt was more than
commonly upright and stately on that
occasion, and alluded frequently to " mee late
brother's " intimacy with many political
characters. On Mr. C.'s remarking that
the eloquent mimber for Ballykillruddery
was, he feared, playing a double game with
his party— his name having been missed from
two divisions, and he known to have got
a cousin into the post-office, and his nurse's
step-daughter's nephew into the police— Miss
M'Murrough observed: " What was to be
expected from the son of a small Ballykillruddery
attorney ? It was mee father first
made a man of him," she continued. " Mee
father was always for encouraging cleverness;
and I well remimber Peter Flyn— mee father's
butler, Mr. Corrigan— saying he thought the
sight would never come back to his eyes
the first time he saw little Micke Brady sitting
down to dinner with The Master. Times are
a good deal changed since that, sir, but I have
often heard mee late brother mention that
Micke Brady was not a bad sort of fellow, and
often gave him orders to get people into places
— I don't understand rightly where— but I
know he did not quite forget what he owed
our family."

"Then, faith, ma'am," said Mr. C., who
was remarkable for the ease of his manners,
"you should give the honourable mimber a
reminder now, and make him get this young
gentleman a place under government; for he is
all and all with the Marquis of Clanjamfrey."

"It would be shorter to spake to the
marquis meeself," replied my Aunt Honoria,
with dignity. " He is only a fourth cousin
once removed on mee mother's side."

At this piece of information Mr. Corrigan
twisted his mouth for one half second into
the expression of a whistle; and then opened
it to observe, that, for his part, though he
despised the adventitious glare of rank, he
would not leave such a cousin in ignorance
of the lad's existence, and of his willingness
to serve his country. To which my aunt
rejoined sharply, that it was easy to despise
what we did not possess; and, as to making
Lord Clanjamfrey of use, there had been a
feud between the families, and she did not
know if she would condescend to ask a
favour of him.

I confess that my faith in Aunt Honoria's
influence with cabinet ministers and members
of parliament was far from strong; and the
only effect her discourse produced on my
mind was to raise dim, hopeless desires, that
some one or other would, some day, get me a
government clerkship with a rising-salary
paid quarterly.

After having been transfixed on that fatal
Monday evening by my aunt's keen optics,
I was naturally more prudent in my attentions
to Mary Lyle; who became all the more
pensive and sad, in spite of the sharp, short,
burning little assurance of affection I always
managed to snatch on the stairs, when she
lighted me down.

At last, dear old Aunt Honoria could hold
out no longer; and, one Sunday evening, there
was an unprecedented tremulousness and
hesitation in her manner. She looked at
us, too, now and then, in a tender, earnest
way, that seemed to be bringing tears into
her eyes. Presently, with unsteady voice,
she laid her hand upon my arm, and said,
"It looks a foolish business enough, mee
poor children, but I can't say ye no! And
perhaps your love for each other, and hoping
to be together, will help you on; for, it's
wearying to work hard without any hope
beyond getting the bare food and raiment.
But now think well, mee dears, and consider
whether you have the stuff in you that can
wait patiently and faithfully for long years,
and whether you love each other too much
to do anything rash— ay! a long engagement
is a terrible trial, but where's the use of
mere talking?— it's little a pair like you
will mind advice now, so ye must run the
chances. Our fathers and mothers did
before, only God guide ye through them,
mee darlin'," she concluded, kissing Mary
heartily; and, giving her eyes a furtive rub,
rushed intto a furious attack upon the gurl
for not having brought up the kettle, and
"it going on for siven o'clock."

From this period I became, by slow
degrees, dimly conscious that a certain mystery