To return to Ballinamoyle:——One day Mr. O'Sullivan was sitting in his study, examining some old family writings, and rather wearied with his task, was not displeased to hear that familiar knock at his room door, which announces the approach of a friend. "Pray come in," said he: "Oh, Edward, is it you? I am happy to see you." "I should not have intruded into this sanctum sanctorum," replied Colonel Desmond; "but that I have in vain visited the library, and the parlour, and the drawing-room, without seeing a living creature, except the great dog who is lying asleep before the fire in the breakfast-room; and yet when Phelim took my horse, he said you were all at home." "That only means," rejoined Mr. O'Sullivan, laughing, "that with the aid of a telescope you might be able to discover all the party within a circuit of two or three miles: any thing on this side Tuberdonny he calls home. Miss Fitzcarril and Caroline are gone to cure Mrs. Cassady with some infallible remedy for the rheumatism; and Adelaide has rode with Mr. Dermoody, to see a curious ruin, that attracted his notice as he came from visiting a sick penitent yesterday. But it is late," continued he, looking at an old fashioned time-piece that stood on a bracket over the fire-place; "they will soon return."

In the conversation which ensued, Colonel Desmond appeared extremely absent, answering "Yes," or "No," at random to Mr. O'Sullivan's various inquiries; and his usual florid complexion was much heightened as at every little noise he looked towards the door, or eagerly gazed out of the window. At last Adelaide's mellifluous voice met his ear, gaily singing one of the cadences of that exquisite strain of Guglielmi's:

He started up, but the melody had ceased, and he was again disappointed in his expectation of seeing her, for she had entered at the back of the house, and crossing one of the halls, ascended the stair-case which led to her own apartment. "Lovely creature!" exclaimed he. "She is indeed a lovely girl," replied the delighted old man; "I never knew but one her equal. Do you know, Desmond, I am quite happy, now I feel that the evening of my days will go down in peace. But," continued he, after a short pause, "I shall feel rather dull at first after Adelaide leaves me." "Leaves you, my dear Sir!—when! where!" "She goes next week to her uncle Lord Osselstone. Dermoody has strongly impressed me with the necessity of this step; and indeed the only reparation her father's family can now make for the wrongs of my poor Rose, is to show the world they are proud of her child. Lord Osselstone, as the most public acknowledgement he can make of his niece, is anxious to have her presented as soon as possible; until something of this sort is done, a shade of doubt might hang over her birth, which my pride could not brook. We only wait till the last formalities have been gone through, to enable her to bear the name of Wildenheim in England. It appears that her father requested Lord Osselstone to use his interest to have this accomplished in the letters we sent to Vienna. It is certainly most prudent; for her dropping the appellation by which she has been known to so many people abroad, whom she may probably meet in London, would call forth much distressing inquiry." "And what have Miss Wildenheim's own wishes been respecting this journey?" eagerly demanded Colonel Desmond. "Notwithstanding her anxiety to see her uncle, I could scarcely prevail on her to leave me till the winter was over. She said I should miss her less in summer, when I could go out—Oh how like her mother she is! I at last represented that a thousand unforeseen events might prevent her ever again visiting her uncle; and that her acceptance of his present kindness was due to the memory of her father. She then consented, for she loves that father as much as——poor Rose loved him." The gentlemen were both silent a few moments, when Colonel Desmond said in a hurried tone, "No doubt with her charms, fortune, and connections, she will make a splendid alliance; you will rejoice——"—"Rejoice!" interrupted his auditor, "what to have her heart broken by some fashionable profligate like——No, Edward, my utmost wish would be to see her married to one of my own countrymen, who would not only be a fond husband to her, but, by residing here, would also prove a bountiful landlord to the poor people, who for so many years have stood in the place of children to me." "Is it possible?" said Colonel Desmond, seizing his hand, whilst his countenance brightened with his new-born happiness; "Is it possible, my dearest friend, you could be inclined to favour the wishes—alas! I dare scarcely call them hopes—of one who has nothing but a devoted heart and an honourable name to offer." "Edward," replied the old man, "your virtues would render you worthy the acceptance of an Empress; my happiness would be inexpressible to see you her husband. Would to God I had bestowed her mother on such a man!"

In a few minutes Colonel Desmond was conducted by O'Sullivan to Miss Wildenheim's sitting-room; and when the anxious parent retired, pleaded his passion with love's own eloquence. Adelaide, much agitated, moved almost to tears, which she could scarcely restrain as she spoke, expressed her esteem, her gratitude, for this long-continued kindness—her regard for him as her father's friend, as her own: yet concluded by saying, "An insuperable obstacle divides us; generously spare me the distressing recital wherefore. I implore your forgiveness if my conduct has unintentionally deceived you." "No, no," interrupted he, "you twice before conveyed your sentiments to me in a manner I could not mistake; but I have acted like an idiot—nothing has deceived me but my cursed folly and presumption." "Oh, do not say so," exclaimed Adelaide, with earnest kind anxiety to soothe his wounded feelings; "my judgment tells me, that, of all men living, I should be happiest with you, if my affections——" The sentence remained unfinished; but her swimming eyes and mournful tones were sufficiently expressive.

Colonel Desmond instantly retired, for he was too noble-minded to pain her feelings by further solicitation, and much too proud to have accepted her pity in place of her love. As he passed through the hall, he met his venerable friend, and pressing his hand, said, "Your kindness is of no avail. Melicent will now be my only consolation. When you are alone, you shall see me again;" then drawing down his hat over his brows, hastily left the house.

Mr. O'Sullivan proceeded to Adelaide, and sorrowfully remonstrated with her on her rejection of his friend. To satisfy his feelings, and justify herself, she detailed all the circumstances that related to her regard for Frederick Elton. "But, my dear parent," said she in conclusion, "this attachment, once so strong in my father's sanction and my own feelings, is now inert; if, as is most probable, he has bestowed his affections elsewhere, I trust I am too just to resent, too proud to repine. All I exacted from him, and promised for myself, was complete forgetfulness. I thought I had succeeded, but, forgive my weakness, every word Colonel Desmond spoke recalled the idea of Frederick from the oblivion I had condemned it to. We will never mention his name again, my dear Sir." She faltered, and throwing her arms about her grandfather's neck, wept bitterly. When again composed, she continued, "I know you think I ought to struggle against this romantic folly; believe me I do, I always have; never, even to my beloved father, did I expose the weakness of my heart as I have this day to you. For the last two years I have divorced myself from my own feelings, and my mind has dwelt with the thoughts of others. Time will do much; but I have not that ardent affection for Colonel Desmond necessary to make either of us happy." "I do not now wish, my dearest child, to influence your choice," replied O'Sullivan; "but his affection for you is unbounded, and with the high estimation you hold his character in, you could not fail to return it in time." "I fear, my dear Sir," said Adelaide, "that to have any rational expectation of happiness in marriage, a woman ought rather to depend on the love she feels for a man, than on his for her, as on her own sentiments alone she can depend with certainty. But I, of all my sex, have surely the least temptation to marry, who am so happy as a daughter. My future husband, whoever he may be," said she, with assumed gravity, "will have small reason to thank you for your indulgence; none of the lords of the creation will ever again treat such a little undeserving subject with the same lenity." The old man kissed her affectionately, and forbore any further solicitation for his friend.

On the day preceding that fixed for Adelaide's departure, she was sitting with her grandfather, examining the route he had traced out for her, and promising obedience to his injunctions not to catch cold: "I would not have Lord Osselstone see you for the first time with red eyes, swelled nose, and chapped lips, not for half the barony of Aughrakillynch; and I beg you won't wear any of the trumpery Mrs. O'Sullivan bought you in London last summer, but put on my favourite black satin dress you brought from Naples; you look like a queen in that. You said you'd wear it to-day, dear. God knows if ever I shall——" The accents died on his lips, and, ringing the bell with agitated vehemence, he ordered Miss Wildenheim's new travelling carriage to be driven round the ring in front of the house, that he might see how it ran. The trampling of horses soon announced the approach of the carriage. "Adelaide, dear, look for the seal you gave me, that I may see if the arms are done right," said Mr. O'Sullivan, who, in the mean time, went to the window to look out, exclaiming an instant afterwards, "It was well I had it round, that lazy rascal Phelim has never cleaned it since it came; it is splashed all over! And what the devil has he been doing with my horses—they are jaded to death! Hey day! who have we got here? Why, Adelaide, there's the handsomest young man I ever saw has opened the door for himself from the inside, and jumped out actually before the horses stopped."

At that instant she heard her own name pronounced, in the hall, by a voice which thrilled to her heart, as she instantly recognized it to be that of the handsomest young man she ever saw. She flew towards the door, but if with an intention to escape, was too late, for the stranger entered at the same instant, and seizing both her hands, presented Frederick to her view!

Her first emotion was that of delighted surprise; joy sparkled in her eyes, and irradiated her whole figure. His looks, his tones, his incoherent words, betrayed his inexpressible feelings. Mr. O'Sullivan stood gazing on the youthful pair in mute astonishment. Adelaide, in a few minutes recollecting herself, turned towards him, and, covered with blushes, introduced "Mr. Elton;" and, whilst the gentlemen were making their bows, retired from the room, but so lightly and swiftly made good her retreat, that till she was out of hearing, they did not perceive she had attempted it. The old man looked on Frederick with the deepest emotion, for Adelaide had turned to him with the same melting glance that Rose first entreated his approval of her beloved Reginald. Too much agitated to speak, "thought on thought rolled over his soul," impressing their melancholy seriousness on his countenance. Lord Eltondale, though a man of fashion, and a man of the world, was no coxcomb, and could feel embarrassed sometimes, as on the present occasion, when his eyes rested on the venerable figure that, excited by the feeling of the moment, rose from the slight bend with which age and sorrow usually tempered its commanding loftiness; and, with the dignity that fancy lends to the chieftains of ancient story, stood tacitly demanding explanation and apology. Frederick felt indescribably awed, and, with a feeling of painful confusion, wished himself out of the house, almost as earnestly as he had but a few minutes before wished himself in it. After making one or two more profound bows than were absolutely necessary, he stooped to pick up his hat from the floor, where he had dropped it at the sight of Adelaide, and then, with his colour nearly as much heightened as hers had been, addressing Mr. O'Sullivan, said, "I know not what apology to offer for this abrupt intrusion, Sir; will you pardon it, and permit me to pay my compliments to you and Miss Wildenheim to-morrow morning?" Mr. O'Sullivan's national and characteristic hospitality quickly banished the involuntary repugnance with which he had at first regarded the unexpected visitor, nor indeed could he long look with coldness on a countenance illuminated by his beloved grandchild's smiles; and therefore, on being thus addressed, extended his hand in sign of cordial welcome, whilst he replied, "Willingly, Sir, on the condition that you remain here to-night. I should be guilty of little less than homicide, in suffering you to drive over those mountains again this evening;—'tis almost dark at this instant." "Thank you, thank you a thousand times, my dear Sir!" exclaimed Lord Eltondale, if possible still more grateful for the manner in which it was granted, than for the much-coveted permission itself. "Could you but know the happiness your invitation gives me. I see you can pity the feelings of a young man." "I can pity them," said O'Sullivan, smiling. "When I know you better, young gentleman, I will tell you whether I wish to encourage them. In the mean time I consider you only as my guest; and in that light, Sir, you are heartily welcome to Ballinamoyle." Mr. O'Sullivan soon terminated the forced conversation which then took place between him and his guest, by offering to have the latter conducted to his room to change his boots before dinner, which proposition was willingly accepted.

All the family party had reassembled in the drawing room, with the exception of Miss Wildenheim, when her maid came to inform her dinner would be served immediately; she looked once more in the glass, to see if the profuse expenditure of rose water she had indulged in had been effectual in effacing all traces of tears; for she was perhaps not less anxious to avoid appearing before Frederick "with red eyes, and a swelled nose," than her grandfather was that she should not thus encounter Lord Osselstone. When she entered the drawing room, O'Sullivan smiled with pleasure, to see her "look like a queen," in the favourite robe, that, in many a silken fold, "giving and stealing grace," flowed round her exquisite form. Her luxuriant hair, as it wound in plaited lustre round her fair brows, seemed indeed to crown them with the diadem of beauty. But more than beauty adorned her angelic countenance; she had seen the dawn of felicity arise; its brilliant beam trembled in her soft eye, whilst its tenderest hues of roseate red tinged her cheek. As she drew near the circle, each, by some involuntary token of kindness, welcomed her approach; and the bewitching smile which played at hide and seek with her ruby lip, when she returned the greetings of affection, at once rewarded and excited them.

But no air of pretty consciousness spoke her prepared to act "L'Idola bella," or that she expected Lord Eltondale to fall at her feet, and worship her at the first gracious signal. Her manner had that self-possession, which was due to her own dignity, and under which every woman of true delicacy would shroud her feelings in a similar situation. Frederick forebore, by word or look, to cause her the least confusion; he was too generous to inflict the pain of distressed modesty on the woman he loved; perhaps also his love was so deeply, so anxiously felt, that it shrunk from the gaze of other eyes than hers who excited it. Neither of them addressed the other directly, but he soon managed, with well-bred ease, to introduce general conversation, which banished all appearance of constraint.

When dinner was announced, Mr. O'Sullivan, who always insisted on giving Adelaide precedence of Miss Fitzcarril, notwithstanding her representation of that lady's seniority, now formally requested Lord Eltondale to conduct her to the dining parlour; as her beautiful hand lay on Frederick's arm he took it in his, and would have pressed it to his heart, had not a half-reproving glance recalled to his recollection, that they were closely observed by several servants, who stood in goodly row, almost forgetting what for, in their eager scrutiny of his face and figure. Mr. O'Sullivan followed, leading Miss Fitzcarril in all the stateliness of la vieille cour; little Caroline skipped gaily along, playing tricks with Captain Cormac and Mr. Dermoody, whilst the former, by a wise shake of the head, prevented her touching his patron's silver locks, which were tied with a black riband, in an old fashioned tail, that reached half way-down his back, and daily tempted the merry sprite's ivory fingers.

A well lighted room, with a blazing fire and an excellent dinner, made the party almost rejoice to hear the whistling wind and driving showers, that foreboded a stormy night. Lord Eltondale was so overjoyed to find himself once more seated beside Adelaide, unshackled by any engagement, and almost certain of her regard, that all his former and characteristic vivacity returned; and his lively sallies infecting every body with his own gaiety, she talked to him with that flow of spirits, which her delight at seeing him naturally excited in her mind; and whilst his admiration increased every moment, she did not fail to remark, that "he was more intelligent in conversation, more elegant in manner and figure, than any man she had ever seen, except her father," who was still her model of perfection.

When the gentlemen unwillingly suffered the ladies to retire to the drawing-room, Mr. O'Sullivan called his granddaughter to him, and as she bent her head in a listening position; her brilliant countenance confirmed the cheerful acquiescence her words conveyed to his proposal. Frederick rightly guessing it was a request to defer her journey, as he opened the door for her to pass, said, in a low tone, with a sort of happy playful assurance in his looks, "Thank you, Adelina." She coloured, and her head was fast rising to the true altitude of feminine pride; when he, standing so as to impede her escape, without seeming to do so, whispered, "Forgive me; I presumed on former recollections; I had flattered myself the spell was broken, that separated me and happiness." One of Adelaide's enchanting smiles dissipated the uneasiness, that had quickly clouded his features.

It is not to be supposed, that all this escaped Miss Fitzcarril's notice; accordingly the drawing-room door was scarcely closed, when, with a significant wink, she proposed taking Caroline to assist her in settling her closet, when any of the gentlemen should return from the parlour, where she rightly conjectured Mr. O'Sullivan's fine claret would not long detain some of the party. Adelaide, with an imploring look, took her hand, saying, "I entreat you, my dear Madam, if you have the least regard for me, not to think of such a thing; I would not lose your society an instant this evening for the world."

The ancient maiden understood her, but thought she was only going to do as she would be done by; and recollected, with a sigh, that this was not at all the solution she expected of Judy Stewart's prophecy.

Adelaide's journey was postponed but one day; and she soon had the happiness of finding in Lord Osselstone almost a second father in mind, manner, and person, hourly reminding her of the beloved parent, that, till she knew her uncle, she thought none on earth had ever resembled.

Amongst the young men of fashion, that now seek the smiles of "the beautiful and accomplished" (according to the technical term which designates every high-born heiress) niece of the Earl of Osselstone, none seems to meet his Lordship's approval so decidedly as Viscount Eltondale, who, we may safely prophesy, will soon win on the regard of his Adelina's noble uncle, as much as he gained on that of her venerable grandfather, during his short visit to Ballinamoyle.

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THE END.

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Printed by S. Hamilton, Weybridge, Surrey.

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[Transcriber's Note: Hyphen variations within volume and between volumes left as printed.]