kindness in the neighbourhood. Books were lent him; opportunities of hearing good music afforded him. An organist in a neighbouring town gave him gratuitous instruction. But from the first moment that he became acquainted with the little girl from Lifford Grange, the beautiful Lady-Bird of his childhood, a new impetus was given to his imagination. She entered with delight into all the schemes of childish amusement which his fancy could suggest. He entertained her, her little brother, and Mary with stories which he remembered or invented about Knights and Princesses, Fairies and Enchanters; with verses which though rude and incorrect were not without a vein of poetic genius. He taught them to sing old ballads, to recite poetry, to act historical scenes. All this was particularly congenial to Gertrude's lively imagination. She liked to enact Queen Margaret meeting the Robber in the forest, or Amy Robsart disappearing through the trap-door of the castle; scenes from the "Midsummer Night's Dream,' or passages from the life of Robin Hood. But their grandest and favourite performance, reserved for the long summer evenings and the prospect of an uninterrupted holiday, was Campbell's ballad, "O'Connor's Child," dramatized by Maurice to suit their exigencies. With a bunch of shamrock in his cap and a wooden sword in his belt, he knelt on the greensward to ask Lady-Bird. 1. 2 of Edgar the hand of his sister, while the little boy was taught to stammer out in answer "Away, and choose a meaner bride Than from O'Connor's house of pride; Witness to Eath's victorious brand, Glory, I say, and power, and honour, Are in the mansion of O'Connor, But thou dost bear in hall and field A meaner crest upon thy shield." In what they called the second act, Gertrude, with a veil tied round her head and a cloak loosely thrown on her shoulders, leant her head on her hand and her elbow on a stile, while Maurice sang the lines in which Connocht Moran tempts his mistress to fly with him. "Come far from Castle Connor's clans, Come with thy belted forester, And I, beside the Lake of Swans, Will hunt for thee the fallow-deer, And build thy hut, and bring thee home The wild fowl and the honey-comb." In the third act of this childish drama they flew together through the green alleys of the Chase, her feet scarcely touching the grass as she ran, repeating "And I pursue by moonless skies The light of Connocht Moran's eyes." Then they stopped under some hazel trees, and built themselves a cabin with the boughs; and he went out to search the game with knife and spear, and she "his evening food to dress would sing to him in happiness," "Sweet is to us the hermitage Of this untried untrodden shore, For man's neglect we love it more." In an old hollow finger on her lips Then came the fourth act with its death-scene. How tragic they all thought it! tree they sat, Gertrude with her and her glancing eyes looking timidly about her. Then, with her mouth close to Maurice's ear, she whispered, "I hear the baying of their beagle," and he answered in the same key, ""T is but the screaming of the eagle." Then a great effort was made to stir up an old dog who had been pressed into the service to enact the "Couchant Hound" that starts up and listens, but this generally failed, and Edgar and Mary with hats on and with sticks, personifying the murderous brothers, rushed upon Maurice, who always fought too long and would not let himself be killed, which, as Mary observed, was very unreasonable, as it was part of the play, and Gertrude screamed, "O spare him Brazil, Desmond fierce!" till she grew tired and hoarse, and fainted away before her lover was fairly killed. The last act, however, was Gertrude's delight. She recited wonderfully well the spirited lines in which the daughter of O'Connor, in the madness of her passion and the delirium of her anguish, presents to her assassin brothers "the standard of O'Connor's sway,” and pronounces a curse, which is to be fatally fulfilled on that battle day, and which dooms their whole race to destruction. Her eyes flashed, her cheeks glowed, her slender childish form trembled as she cried "Go then, away to Athunree, High lift the banner of your pride, Many a famous actress might have won applause for the look and tone of wild inspiration with which she swore "That sooner guilt the ordeal brand Should grasp unhurt than they should hold The banner with victorious hand, Beneath a sister's curse unrolled." Such were the amusements of these children during about two years, and to Gertrude they were the happiest she had known. Then Edgar went to school, and soon after Maurice went to a school in London, and seldom came to Stonehouseleigh. Everything changed, - Gertrude and Mary were still friends, but there was no excitement to the former in their intercourse, and the latter took life very much in eaṛnest, and had a great deal to do in her own home, and many cares and thoughts and occupations which Lady-Bird did not understand, and in which she had no sympathy. And though they were fond of each other, there was no great intimacy between them: still, enough to become at any moment closer, as it did when a subject of common interest arose. The link that connected them was an odd one; some may think it unnatural, but people are very different, and young girls, especially, have strange grounds of sympathy. Certain it is, that the circumstances which will be related in another chapter served to bring them together, and to give an interest to their intercourse which it had gradually been losing during the last few years. Perhaps it grew out of the fulness of one heart, and the emptiness of the other some thing that required a vent in the one, a void to be filled in the other. This will be better understood as the story proceeds. |