Dalveen; "I must content myself with little Kate Laurie. Paul, come to me on the morrow,—we shall have either mirth from others, or more mischief between ourselves. Good night." And in this manner they parted. CHAPTER IV. Her eyes as stars of twilight fair, To haunt, to startle, and waylay. WORDSWORTH. WHEN Paul left Dalveen castle he turned his steps homeward. Formerly the distance at which his mother's dwelling stood from the castle was described in rustic measurement as a good bowshot; but the disuse of the arrow has rendered that once sensible mode of reckoning space obsolete, and I am obliged to say in words which convey no image, the distance was a mile. The tower of the lord stood on a high rock, like the abode of the eagle; the wit of the retainer, like the cunning of a waterfowl, had found a place for his nest in a deep quagmire, where neither horse nor man could pass, and in the very centre of which he had anchored his rustic habitation. He had also redeemed from the shaking bog some twenty paces square of garden-ground, and filled it with flowers, and fenced it round with the willow and wild plum. The only thing remarkable about Paul's abode was the place where it was built, and the art by which the little structure was reared. Tradition, indeed, before I examined the ruins, told me, first, that it was built by no good art; and, secondly, that in imitation of the imaginary architecture of the Spanish armada, it was built in alternate layers of wood and stone. It was a mixture of rude masonry and beams of the blackest oak, and was probably founded upon piles; for through the deserted floor of the house the water had bubbled up, and a plentiful crop of the water-lily and iris had arisen, in the midst of which a wild teal had placed its sluggish nest, and brought out its tawny brood. But on the day to which my tale belongs, this house was neat, trim, and well-ordered. The walls, covered with honeysuckle on the outside, were as well covered with household thrift within ; the floor was swept with a careful hand; the hearth fire sparkled clear; while the furniture, beneath the anxious hands of Prudence and her daughter Maud, glanced back the light of the morning sun or the evening fire like so many mirrors. The swallow hung its little nest of clay and grass beneath the thatch, and with incessant wing skimmed the bosom of the moss or the walks of the garden, abating the plague of flies; in the garden hedge the thrush, the sweetest of our Scotish songsters, built secure from the hand of the school-boy; and the inhabitants of three stoles of bees extracted sweetness from the meadow flowers and the mountain heath, and gave an air of happiness and industry to the place. A little narrow road, framed of oak and paved with stone, and wide enough for two men to walk abreast, led from the door to the firm land, and a deep clear spring at its side, threw up a stream of water plentiful enough to form a small rivulet, which, escaping from the bog, joined the sea after a course of a mile and a half among green knolls and granite rocks, during which it formed many pretty pools full of fine burn trout. On this secluded house the sun had set, and his retiring light still lingered on the hill-head and on the ship-streamers in the bay. The wood-doves had returned from feeding on the wild blaeberry, -the crows already darkened all the pine-tree tops, the bat was abroad, and flickered about in the dewy air, while the beetle, uttering his contented hum, struck against the shepherd as he returned from his flocks on the neighbouring hills. In an old chair of carved oak, enjoying the fresh air of the twilight, Prudence Paul was sitting, her white mutch bordered with broad lace, and her gown of shining gray, long and wide, and glistening like silk, descended not so low as to conceal two neat feet, with glossy shoes and little fastenings of solid silver. In her hand she held a hank of the finest woollen yarn, mixed purple and white, smooth and fitted for hose, such as the young men then were fond of wearing. Her looks were staid and touched with sorrow, her eye, dark and sparkling, had in her youth given lustre to district verse; and the fastidious neatness of her dress and the purity of her dwelling brought that charge of household and personal pride upon her which has been urged against the Dutch,—she wiped the seats upon which strangers had sat,-she wiped the floor over which they walked,—and of the well out of which they had drank would she not taste, till it had freed itself from all suspicion of impurity, by running an hour or more. At her side there sat a softer vision of herself,her daughter Maud in the opening bloom of maiden beauty,-dark eyed, dark tressed,—as pure as the spring out of which she drank, and as healthy as the lily that flowered on its margin. Her white shoulders and round neck were flooded by the dark clustering abundance of her locks; and her eyes large, moving in liquid light, and of a deep hazel hue, were every now and then lifted up from the task on which her hands were engaged, and fixed on her mother with a glance expressing duty and awe. Her dress was a boddice of brown, with an open and expanding collar which allowed the breeze free circulation,-with a little shawl of the finest silk, and ornamented with curious skill, but laid aside to admit the sweet fresh air of the twilight; and a petticoat of that glossy and |