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Colonel Rolleston's regiment had been ordered home to proceed to the Crimea, and she well knew the anxiety his family must be enduring. It seemed cold and ungrateful to be unable to write one word of sympathy to Mrs. Rolleston, but any renewal of intercourse must lead to explanations, and it was her cruel fate to be able to give none.

Eleven o'clock boomed from a church clock in the town. Wardlaw did not come, and Seaton did not move from his ambush. Twelve o'clock boomed, and Wardlaw never came, and Seaton never moved. Soon after midnight General Rolleston's hall door opened, and a figure appeared in a flood of light.

They hurried back, but found by this time the tide had left the cutter high and dry on the sand. So they had no choice but to wait. Having three hours to spare, Hazel asked Miss Rolleston's permission to ascend the mountain. She assented to remain near the boat while he was engaged in this expedition.

He chopped their heads off outside, and threw their tails into the pots; he stuck a piece of pointed wood through the bream, and gave it to Welch to toast; but Welch waved it aside. "I see no cabbage," said he, grimly. "Oh, I forgot. But that is soon found," said Hazel. "Here, give me the fish, and you take the saw, and examine the head of the palm-tree, which lies at Miss Rolleston's door.

He had a close-shutting inkstand and a pen, and one sheet of paper, at the top of which he had written "Sydney," and the day of the month and year, leaving the rest blank. And he had the revolver with which he had shot the robber at Helen Rolleston's window; and a barrel of that arm was loaded with swan shot. THE moon went down; the stars shone out clearer.

Rolleston's other guests being Mr. John O'Leary, whose name is held in honour for his courage and honesty by all who know anything of the story of Ireland in our times, and who was sent a quarter of a century ago as a Fenian patriot not into seclusion with sherry and bitters, at Kilmainham, like Mr.

By these means he diverted their minds in some degree from their own calamity, and taught them the lesson they most needed. The poor fellows listened with more interest than you could have thought possible under the pressure of bodily distress. And Helen Rolleston's hazel eye dwelled on the narrator with unceasing wonder.

The night that followed was darker than usual, and, about midnight, a hand was laid on Helen Rolleston's shoulder and a voice whispered "Hush! say nothing. I have got something for you." At the same time something sweet and deliciously fragrant was put to her lips; she opened her mouth and received a spoonful of marmalade. Never did marmalade taste like that before.

Oh, that I could be a child again, or in my grave, to get away from this Hell of Love and Hate." At this point, we beg leave to take the narrative into our own hands again. Mr. Hazel actually left the deck to avoid the sight of Helen Rolleston's flushed cheek and beaming eyes, reading Arthur Wardlaw's letter.

But the gentleman who was to take General Rolleston's post met with something better, and declined it. General Rolleston, though chafing with impatience, had to give up going home in the Shannon. But an influential friend, Mr.