NORA H. (A Leaf from "My Scrap Book.") BY D. D. "The course of true love never did run smooth," was said of old by him who knew all things; and the adage has been found so true, that few and far between exceptions only prove the validity of the rule. "Bless yer sweet face, lady dear," said the dame who told me Norah's story; sure it's the bitther dhrop that may-be makes the taste of love seem afterwards the sweeter; that same doubt and fear that come between-whiles across the heart in courting time, just like a threatening cloud at harvest, whose shadow dims the golden sheaves. Not that I altogether think that the making up of lovers' quarrels is half so sweet as the not quarrelling at all, at all. I mind, when I was just a slip of a girl"-but I must take the "parole" from my communicative acquaintance, and separate the story I have to tell from the many narratives into which her history diverged, or I fear the "love passages" in the life of pretty Norah Richards would, for want of space, remain unchronicled. Norah was an orphan, born of an English father, but her mother had been a daughter of Erin. She could not remember either parent, for her father died when she was yet in arms, and the widow to whom he left his little farmencumbered, in consequence of early improvidence, with a heavy debt-after struggling and toiling for three years, sank into a premature grave, leaving the little Norah to the rude nursing of a bleak world. It must be mentioned, too, that there was a half-brother, the offspring of a former marriage; although for him, who at the time of his step-mother's death was about eight years old, his English mother's family had promised to provide. And did the hearts of the Irish kindred beat less warmly for the orphan they considered it their right and privilege to adopt? Ah, no; though they were poor-though it had been a hard pinch to find the means of conveying the infant from the neighbourhood of Bristol to Corkstill they did achieve it, and from that day forward the sister's child was considered as the cadette of a family already numerous. Ah! dear Ireland! you have faults, to be sure, which your fondest friends cannot deny, or altogether extenuate; but coldness, or lukewarmness of heart, is not one of them. It seemed that the kindness the Connell family had shown the little Norah met, even in this world, with its reward; for from the year of her adoption might be dated an improvement in their own fortunes. To be sure, they had a kind landlord, and they made the most of all the lucky chances that came in their way; so that by the time Norah was seventeen, they presented a fair specimen of thriving industry and rural contentment. The pretty cousins, Norah Richards, and Ellen Connell, were the acknowledged belles of M- —; and besides beauty, could boast of many useful accomplishments, such as are in fact most useful to a farmer's wife or daughter. In addition, however, to a thorough initiation into the mysteries of the dairy, poultry-yard, &c., they had "picked up" sufficient "book-learning" to read without pausing at any but the longest, most "ugly looking" words, and could write at least a more legible hand than many a boarding-school missalways provided sufficient time was permitted for the execution of this readable cacography. But however similar their acquirements, their characters were very opposite. It would, perhaps, be more orthodox to declare that Ellen, the Irish girl, was the coquette; but truth is truth, and she shall not be so slandered. Nelly might even be called a demure little body, and though two years older than Norah, she looked almost as much her junior. There was a well of feeling in Nelly's heart; but it lay deep, and could only be guessed at now and then from a flash of her dark eye, that seemed to gleam from behind the pupil instead of from its surface. Norah, who, after all, was only half-English by birth, and all Irish by education, had as true and warm a heart as her cousin; but she was by nature a coquetteshe loved to feel her power over the "boys" who sought a smile or kind word from her. It must be owned she smiled by fits on more than one; but the discerning might have perceived that a curl of her lip often contradicted the glance of her merry eye, and declared, pretty clearly, that her heart was untouched. It was not, however, in the nature of things that the winged little god should allow himself to be very long trifled with in this manner; so one fine spring-day he pointed an arrow rather sharper than usual, and taking deliberate aim, chose the heart of pretty Norah for his target. She soon afterwards experienced a sort of fluttering sensation whenever she expected to meet a certain Patrick Donovan; and when she did see him, an uncontrollable impulse, which suffused her cheeks with a deeper glow than usual, and inclined her to droop, rather more than was her wont, those mischievous deep-blue eyes. Ah! the false flattering sex are very quick at reading such signs as these, and the handsome Patrick took sufficient advantage of them to win a promise that ere autumn closed she would be his. For a few weeks the plighted lovers were the happiest of the happy; but, alas! alas! the leaven of coquetry was not eradicated from the heart of Norah Richards. She began to fancy she had been too easily won; and as, according to her notion of things, the only reparation she could make for such a blunder was to resume a little innocent flirtation with some of her former admirers, she determined in such pastime to employ the few months of "liberty" which remained before her. Poor Norah !-I have said she had a warm and true heart, and yet was there in it that mischievous spirit which only a severe lesson can exorcise. As for Patrick-a fine generous-minded fellow, without one natural grain of suspicion in his whole composition-she was quite astonished at the trouble it gave her to make him jealous. He loved her indeed with so trusting a love, that it is doubtful if his eyes would have been opened to her misdemeanours, without the officious "couching" of a friendan operation, by the way, which "friends" are extremely fond of performing. It was at an unlucky hour that Patrick Donovan awoke from his dream of security, for Norah was at that time deprived of her gentle cousin and judicious monitor. Nelly was in Gloucestershire, whither she had accompanied her father to sell stock, bearing with her a carefully-penned epistle from Norah to William Richards, besides messages without number, the joint purport of which was to apprise him of his sister's engagement, and invite him to M- for the wedding. Norah had always kept up an affectionate correspondence with her half-brother, who had paid more than one visit to Ireland, so that she had every right to hope he would grace her nuptials with his presence. To shorten what would be a long story, I must hurry over poor Patrick's reproaches, and the careless off-hand manner in which Norah replied to them. Perhaps, if Ellen Connell had been beside her to touch the better feelings of her nature, things would have been very different; as it was, she contrived in the course of three weeks to make her lover thoroughly miserable, though, to her own astonishment, she did not find herself quite so happy under the circumstances as she had expected. It was the evening preceding Nelly's return, that poor Patrick was driven to the pitch of desperation, and his heart seemed almost broken. They were at a "pathern" when Patrick besought his Norah not to dance with a certain "boy" whom he named; had he understood a coquette's nature, he would have known that this was the very plan by which she would be induced to plague him more than ever; but he had no such suspicion, and when he saw her not only dancing with the forbidden gallant, but carrying her flirtation beyond the point that any reasonable lover might endure to witness, he turned from the scene to conceal his emotions. More than once he passed his sleeve across his eyes, before he again sought Norah Richards, and then it was in a trembling voice that he addressed her. "Ye have torn the life out of my body, Norah, to-night; but I have loved ye too well to say bitther words, even though my heart is breaking. May be, ye wont aisy find a boy that cares for you so intirely; but God's will be done-I feel that he niver intended us for man and wife. I couldn't bear it, Noralı dear, indeed I couldn't, to see yer sweet eyes looking so fondly at such fellers as them, and hand to hand with them, and I yer own swateheart the while-not to say yer lawful husband; and I begin to think you'll niver be content with one true heart to love ye, and one pair of eyes to look warmly upon youand maybe they're not such a big bright pair as his-anyhow, I am thinking I'll give ye back yer promise," and with something between a sob and a sigh, Patrick drew from his neck the half of a sixpence, and separating it from the ribbon to which it was suspended, offered it to Norah. She turned away her head, for pride and affection were struggling in her heart; unhappily the former gained the victory, and she replied in a tone of unconcern, "I am sure, Mister Donovan, I cann't tell ye where the other half may be, though now I am thinking I saw it shining among a heap of litter yesterday, where the black bantams were raking; but I couldn't disturb the bastes, and I knitting in the shade." This was a dreadful fib, as black as the black bantams; for the missing half was, at that very moment, nestled upon Norah's throbbing heart. The lovers parted more in coldness than in anger, and each was free. weep; and Norah passed a night of such mental agony, that even the severe in judgment might have thought it sufficient expiation of her fault; but the first news she heard the next day was, that Patrick Donovan had gone over to Cork, to enlist for a soldier! Bitterly did she in the extremity of her misery, she confided to her aunt the particulars of the "lover's quarrel" of the preceding evening. She submitted with humility to the chiding she received, and after some cogitation, a penitent letter to Patrick was completed; but though in the hands of Mrs. Connell, to be despatched by a trusty messenger to Cork, was not yet forwarded when Nelly and her father arrived. With what pleasure poor Norah had looked forward to their return! But now she felt like a penitent before them. In a few minutes she found an opportunity of confiding her troubles to Nelly; but, for the first time in her life, she found less sympathy from her cousin than she expected; and in answer to her inquiry if they had seen Patrick at Cork, Nelly replied, "Yes, but he had not enlisted; indeed, he seemed very happy when we left him, and I dare say he will be back at M- to-morrow or next day." Nor was this all; for Norah soon discovered from signs, whisperings, and private interviews, that there was some mystery to be concealed from her; and even when she said she had changed her mind, and claimed to have the letter intended for Patrick returned to her, Mrs. Connell made some excuse, and said she had mislaid it. In her present mood it was some consolation that her conciliatory epistle had not been dispatched. If the truth must be told, she was not greatly surprised to hear that Patrick would return to M. Of course he still loved, and could not leave her; and again the black drop returned, and she determined she would see him at her very feet, before she gave him one kind or encouraging look. It will be difficult, therefore, for the reader to imagine her consternation and amazement, at discovering that when, as her cousin predicted, he returned to the neighbourhood of M- he visited the cottage of the Connells as the suitor of Nelly, treating Norah with merely cool civility! The coquette's heart was probed to the quick, but I rejoice to add her cure was complete. man's outstretched hand some few minutes before his sister joined them. That brief space of time must have served for some partial explanation; for when Norah approached, the mournful expression of her brother's countenance had given place to one of mingled wonder and delight. He even slipped away to the other side of the garden before she could address him, while her uncle detained her a good ten minutes, by making many pertinent, or impertinent, inquiries connected with the dairy. As William approached the cottage, he beheld the figure of Patrick Donovan stretched at length beneath the fragrant shelter of a newmade hay-rick, enjoying a sort of dolce far niente, which any of Italia's children might have envied. He passed without observation, and about twenty yards nearer the cottage beheld Ellen Connell calmly seated at some feminine What passed in the mind of Norah during the next fortnight can only be guessed from its results. She had heard that, at the expiration of that time, her brother was expected in Ire-employment. Surely there was nothing alarmland; but wherefore his visit was to be so much earlier than had been at first arranged, or in fact why he was now coming at all, she had yet to learn. As for Nelly, her wedding clothes were actually purchased! There could be no mistake about her approaching marriage; and her quiet happiness would have been delightful for a happy person to witness. Norah's aching heart was full; never had she so much felt the want of a fond and sympathizing friend to whom she could pour out her troubles : it was natural that to her kind brother she should turn; and when the day arrived on which he was expected, she determined to seek an interview with him, previous to his meeting the other members of the family. Perhaps Norah knew her cause needed all the advantages of a first hearing: however this might be, it was on her return from the dairy that Norah lingered at the gate through which she knew he would pass on his way to the cottage. ingly lover-like in their relative positions! But we must return to poor Norah; for, after all, she is our heroine. It was a warm and affectionate meeting; but the contrast was striking, between William's happy beaming face, and the pale cheeks and tearful eyes of the once-blooming Norah. Her story was soon told: she begged, she entreated to be taken to his home in England: she would be his most industrious servant-anything he chose to make her; but she could not live where Nelly was Patrick's wife. She was almost frightened at the effect her words produced; for, as soon as William Richards had fully gathered his sister's meaning, he turned paler than herself, and it seemed must have fallen if he had not leaned on her for support. After a moment's pause, he exclaimed, "We have both been wronged, if half of this be true; but I cannot understand it only a fortnight since we parted. There must be some mystery with which you are unacquainted. Let us hasten to the cottage, Norah; I feel, my poor girl, that I cannot breathe another hour without an explanation." They turned their steps towards the cottage; but when within a quarter of a mile of their destination, they saw Norah's uncle advancing towards them. William Richards involuntarily quickened his pace, and had grasped the old At last, released from the catechising she had thought unusually tiresome, Norah followed nearly in her brother's steps; she, however, did not observe the figure beside the hay-rick, or perhaps it had moved away; but she did observe enough of two persons, though they were partially concealed by the June foliage, to surmise that they were sitting in a very lover-like fashion upon a mossy bank; that is to say, the maiden's waist was encircled by a manly arm, the hand of which clasped tightly the taper fingers, which had perhaps attempted to displace it; if so, the form seemed by this time reconciled to its bondage, for the head rested very complacently on the youth's shoulder. The summer breeze moved the branches, and Norah discovered her cousin Ellen! A faint scream escaped her, for of course the lover must be Patrick; though, to do them justice, they had hitherto refrained from showing any such marks of tenderness in her presence. But somehow or other, before the scream had quite died away, she was caught in a pair of arms herself, and a kiss, stolen rather than sought, from her lips. Had Patrick a double? for surely it was his voice that murmured loving words in her ear! A mist seemed to pass from before her eyes, and looking up, she saw William still half supporting Nelly, and both so happy, that she could but turn to Patrick for explanation. Whatever he said was in a tone too low for listeners to catch; but it is possible, that when she turned very pale, he was describing the misery he had endured when on the point of enlisting at Cork, from which he was only deterred by the opportune return of Nelly and her father, and their urgent entreaties. Perhaps, when she blushed "celestial rosy red," he might be renewing vows of ardent love; and probably, when she burst into tears, and drew both halves of the sixpence from her bosom, he was excusing the family conspiracy, in which he had joined, with the hope of securing their ultimate happiness. All we know is, that in less than three weeks H there was a double wedding-that William Richards, who had recovered his paternal farm, took home a bride from the "Emerald Isle," but left behind, as his sister's dowry, the contents of a cottage furnished in the English fashion. Norah is now one of the steadiest little wives in the county, and Patrick is "well to do" in the world--thanks, in a great measure, as he proudly owns, to following the judicious advice of his brother-in-law in the management of his "bit of land." AN INVITATION. BY W. G. J. BARKER, ESQ. Lady May! O leave thy bower! Moon and stars are shining clear, 'Tis the thrice delightful hour Love and Beauty count so dear. From the river sweeps a song- Hark! the wind-harp's wizard sound At thy casement breathing low; Nature rests in sleep profound, All the world doth quiet know. Only from the dreamy flowers Come! the stars are growing bright Through the blue transparent skyDeeper is its tint by night, Yet it cannot shame thine eye. On our path the moonlight falls Fairies long have absent been, Creatures of the Poet's brain; But if thou wilt grace the scene All their beauty lives again. For in Poet's brightest thought Come! the hours are gliding fast - Banks of the Yore. AN ORPHAN'S STORY. BY CAMILLA TOULMIN. From "Orphanhood-" Free-will Offerings to the Fatherless," contributed by various Authors, and published for the benefit of the Orphan Working School. Reviewed in our last number. I can only just remember My dear mother's anxious brow, And her eyes that looked so fondly, And her voice so soft and low. Kisses, too, I well remember, Though the while she'd often weep; Do you know those tears and kisses Come again when I'm asleep! Lingering kisses-so much warmer From beneath its crispèd border I would draw her hair to sight; Do you know her long dark tresses Had among them lines of white! Yet indeed, my darling Mother Was but twenty-six years old, For upon her long black coffin Just that very age was told. She would talk about my Father, That dull poverty and sickness, That for years his life had known; From the path that Honour shewed him, And they call me now an Orphan! I am like a flower uprooted, Without rudder, without compass, Die ! the cold yet peaceful slumber, THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE. (A Sketch, in Two Parts.) BY GEORGE J. O. ALL MAN. "Look upon every day as the whole of Life, not merely as a section; and enjoy the present without wishing, through haste, to spring on to another lying before the section." "But gentles alle, beware the adder's tongue JEAN PAUL FR. RICHTER. Of those vyle babblers who swyte Truth despise ; JOHN LYLIE, about 1580. "It is said that troubles never come singly; and if they must come, it is well, for the great griefs drive out the lesser ones, which might else fret and swell beyond their just proportions." CAMILLA TOULMIN. PART THE SECOND. (Concluded from page 38.) While the thoughts, recorded at the end of the preceding part, occupied my mind, I stood looking from one to another with a confused recollection of the past, and yet with a keen apprehensiveness of my present position. "At least let me know the cause of this," I stammered. Dr. Carrington interrupted me, and taking me kindly by the arm, he requested me to accompany him into the adjoining room. Taking a silent and sorrowful adieu of Julia, I mechanically followed him, Frederick bringing up the now toward him, and my readers will believe that I did not read any very amicable or amiable demonstration towards myself written on his stern brow and flushed cheek. "Yet his fraternal affection," the Doctor resumed-" perhaps his pride-has overcome him in this instance too powerfully, to render his a very cool-or even coherent-narrative of the circumstances which you will now hear, and which need rather the medium of a pacificator, than a channel whose interpreter is the hot blood of youth. Well, then, to state the circumstance without circumlocution, you are accused of having circulated the report that my daughter's hand is given in payment of a large debt of honour-honour at the gaming-table!-which you are said to have won of Frederick; while another version of the report is, that you are to possess her, as the prize of a lottery or raffle-” "Sir? Lottery-raffle?" I pressed my hand to my brow - was I mad-or was my proposed father-in-law mad? -or were we all mad? "Well, Churchill!" said the Doctor kindly, as he felt my eyes staring at him in vacancy, "what reply have you to make to this unaccountable-this extra "Reply?" I echoed-" ha! ha! ha! It is too absurd, too ridiculous-too monstrous for belief!" "It is, as you will find, a grave truth-the accusation, at least," replied Dr. Carrington impressively. |