CHAPTER XXII. "And there she knelt by that mountain rill, "O Father of Heaven! the maiden cries, The face of my parents is hid from mine eyes, M. T. G. It would be difficult to describe Ellen's feelings when her lover left her on the margin of that stream. The strange shriek filled her soul with terror; but there was something in the sound which thrilled through all the fibres of her heart. Could it be possible? O God! how my heart palpitates! If it be she !" 66 Her lover's words were significant; the expression of his face more so. There was a mystery about Dermot's manner before he went away, and he had been absent now, three weeks. Her heart beat curiously; now palpitating with fear, now bounding with joy. If she had not gone on her knees, in prayer to God, her frame could scarcely have withstood the conflict of her feelings. What strength and solace there is in prayer! How it calms down the troubled mind, and says to distracting thoughts, "Peace! Be still!" Hearing a rustle in the thicket behind her, she turned suddenly round, and what was her surprise to see-not her mother, or her lover-but the White Knight, standing beside her. "Lady," said Fitzgibbon, seizing her hand, "how long have I sought, and sought in vain, for this opportunity; but heaven has at last rewarded my constancy, by giving you to these arms." "How dare you, sir? unhand me, base knight," cried Ellen, struggling in his grasp. 66 'No, by my soul, fair maid; we will not part so soon," replied Fitzgibbon, seizing her with one hand, round the waist, and placing the other over her mouth. I have here a fine opportunity of tantalizing my readers, if I had the heart to allow that Whitelivered Knight, Fitzgibbon Blanc, to carry off our heroine to his strong castle; but no, sweet reader, I cannot do it; I have too much chivalry. Hang all novel plots! His horse stood in the thicket, within a few yards of him, to which he bore the struggling fainting girl; but when in the act of raising her to the saddle, he received a blow on the head, which laid him senseless on the ground. "Ha ha ha!" exclaimed Mac Rory,-for it was he who had come to the maiden's rescue,— "ha! ha! ha!" exclaimed he again, as he marked the effect of the blow. When the Earl, accompanied by Mrs. Spenser, came to the brook, on the margin of which he had left Ellen, he was startled to find her gone; but, seeing a red cap and yellow jacket through the trees, he entered, and what was his amazement to behold his betrothed bride seated near a tree, with her head resting on Mac Rory's bosom, and his hand clasping her waist. Nor could he fail to observe that Mac Rory looked more tenderly intelligent than he had ever seen him look before. "But how did the Earl look ?" He looked daggers!-Drawn daggers! Thunder and lightning! O Woman!" But just at that moment his eye fell on the prostrate body of the White Knight. There he lay, pale and still as death, his beautiful hair dappled with blood. A thick knotty club--like that with which Cain slew his brother Abel-at his feet. The Earl hastened to Ellen's side. "Let me there, Mac Rory; you are a brave fellow,” squeezing his hand. Mac Rory grinned, and shewed his teeth. "Where is my child? Where is my child ?" cried Mrs. Spenser, rushing in between the trees. "Ellen my child, how is this? Is she injured? Was it the wolf?" "There lies the wolf," said Desmond, pointing to the prostrate knight. "O my God! did he dare? Let me sit down beside her, and lay her head upon my bosom. O Ellen, my child, my long-lost child! is this you?" kissing her. "Did I think to find you thus? There, lay down your head, my darling, on your mother's heart." Mrs. Spenser was a lovely woman, with rich golden hair and blue eyes. She was gazing down upon her child with bewitching love and tenderness, as Ellen looked up in surprise. is "Ellen, my child," said the mother, "it is I-it your mother." "Mother!” said Ellen, casting her arms around her, "oh ! have I found my mother?" and she laid her head once more upon that tender bosom, and wept like an infant. But I shall not attempt to describe the feelings of either the parent or the child, as they clasped each other to their heart of hearts. The Earl, who witnessed it, put his hand over his face, and laid his elbow against a tree, and wept his fill of tears, and drank his fill of sympathetic joy. CHAPTER XXIII. "If that thy bent and love be honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow." SHAKSPEARE. ELLEN'S mother is thus described by her husband, Edmund Spenser, in his "Epithalamion :"— "Her long loose yellow locks, lyke golden wyre, Sprincled with perle, and perling flowers atweene, Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre; And, being crowned with a girland greene, Seem lyke some mayden queene. "Her modest eyes, abashed to behold Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses sing, That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring. "Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did ye see So fayre a creature in your town before; So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she, Adornd with beautye's grace, and vertue's store? Her cheeks lyke apples which the sun hath rudded, |