"I shall remember thee;" answered the youth, as he dived into the throng that separated him from the scene of his expected glory. "A rash young fellow, that!" soliloquized Willie Bats; "he'll run himself into scrapes some day,-Oh, charming Cicely!" And with his mind full of that adorable individual, he slowly quitted the green.

A shout greeted the appearance of Edward Heringford among the rival archers; and those shouts were redoubled, when his unerring aim directed a bolt into the centre of the target. The prize was not yet won; others had shot with equal success ; and among these the contest was continued until gradually, but slowly, each of his competitors fell off, leaving Edward master of the field.

The applause of the multitude again found vent in an approving shout, the echo of which had scarcely died away among the hills, before it was renewed with increased vigour; and the demonstration of their rural joy was absolutely deafening as Kate Westrill, the Mistress of the Sports, bounded lightly over the rude bridge that connected the village with the scene of action. One voice, alone, was silent-silent from the excess of joy; and the eye that but now sparkled with victory, was softened by a passion more potent than even youthful ambition, while the lips, a moment before curled in the pride of triumph, were, at her coming, beguiled into a smile, that betokened the soul's purest delight.

CHAPTER THE SECOND.

TREATS OF THE HEROINE-AND OF VARIOUS DELICATE MATTERS CONNECTED WITH THE MYSTERY OF LOVE.

THE shouts of the villagers attained their climax, when Kate, having reached the green, took her seat on the throne of turf, held sacred to the Mistress of the Revels. Never was a village queen more worthy of the enthusiastic reception she encountered; never was a cottage girl better adapted to awaken such feelings as were then struggling in Heringford's noble bosom. In childhood he had been her favourite playfellow; and as the two grew in years, so had their mutual affection gained strength, until, in manhood, he became her favoured suitor.

It is said that contrast increases love; if such be the case, and their love admitted of increase, a supposition that Edward would most stoutly have denied, they must have been most desirably matched. If Edward was hasty and impetuous, she was soft and gentle; if the mystery that hung over himself made Heringford, at times, reserved and melancholy, Kate Westrill, with a happy smile, was ever ready to dissipate his gloom; for Edward Heringford, as we ought already to have informed the reader, was destitute of acknowledged parents; he had been brought up, from infancy, by an old cottager, whose name he had assumed, and whose dying breath, when, in the pangs of conscience, he would have divulged the well-kept secret, did not suffice farther than to plant, for the first time, in the breast of his young foster-child, a doubt as to his true connexions. With this old man perished the only apparent means of discovering the true source of his existence.

But to return to Kate Westrill, of whose general appearance, some idea, however slight it may and will be, must of necessity be given.

Her auburn hair was collected under the network of silver that formed a prevailing head-dress of the period, and over it was a coronet of maiden roses, emblem of her short-lived dignity. Her fair open brow, blue eyes, and chiselled lips, ever upon the smile, would have warmed the heart of any misanthrope towards his offending fellow-creatures. Her attire, whilst it corresponded mainly with the fashion of the times, was yet subjected to such variation as natural taste dictated: she wore the cote-hardie, or tight vest, of blue silk, buttoned as far as the waist, whence it descended loose to the middle;-innocent vanity, transgressing against the severity of sumptuary laws, had trimmed it with marten fur. The gown below it, shorter than was the custom, but just disclosed a tiny foot and ankle that a fairy might have been proud to possess. Her voice was clear and cheerful, her oftrecurring laugh so soft and pleasing, that none could refuse the sympathy it demanded.

And yet the merry girl was not unused to trouble: the affectionate cares of a mother were blessings she had never known; they were ended before she had learnt to love her from whom they proceeded. An aged father, weighed by his troubles, prematurely, into second childhood, required her constant attention; whilst her brother Andrew, from whom those troubles sprang,--he whose

early vice had hastened a mother's death, and whose continued dissipation had doomed a father to an untimely grave, omitted no opportunity to increase her sorrows: his sister he hated for that she was loved, and his father was a clog on his free-will. But, despite all this, Kate Westrill ever remained the same mirthful favourite; and although she now met her friends with a bright tear-drop glistening in her eye, which caused many an old man to shake his head with ominous compassion, and many a youth in honest anger to knit his brows, yet, when the token of sorrow fell upon her bosom, no other rose to replace it, and her voice was mirthful still, as she greeted the admiring villagers.

Seated now on her rustic throne, with the other maids of the village forming a mimic and merry court around her, Kate assumed the duties of her office. Having made a hurried apology for delay, choked by a rising sob that told of what her words hinted not at, she at once commenced her task of distributing the rural favours. With short, but highly-prized and treasured, compliments to the successful candidates, as, one after the other, with confused step and burning cheek, they came before her, she had distributed to each one the prizes he had earned, when the last and principal victor of the day stepped forward to receive his due. Bonnet in hand, and resting upon one knee before her, he waited, in humble attitude, to receive from her hands the valued tokens, to hear from her lips the soothing accents of woman's flattery. But Kate Westrill was silent. She placed in his hand the crossbow-prize of the archery ground; she crowned him with a laurel wreath, as the victor of the day; but still no word escaped her of compliment or of praise: yet her silence thrilled through Heringford's breast, and raised a pleasure there far greater than words could have afforded.

It was the custom of the village to conclude these revels with song and dance, in which latter the hand of their queen was the victor's due. In obedience to this practice, Edward, having risen, advanced towards his mistress, and led her, blushing, to the awarded post; the dance commenced, and gracefully did the happy couple perform their part in it: not even the evolutions of Willie Bats, who had succeeded in obtaining a temporary partnership with his "charming Cicely," could rob them of the general applause.

Willie, however, was not unnoticed; for, next to the hero of the day and his happy partner, none engrossed more attention than

himself and the maid of his choice. Cicely, the maid in question, requires little description; she was, in fact, a feminine edition of Willie himself, a faithful servant to old Westrill, and rivalled her young mistress, in good humour at least, if not, perhaps, to an over-scrupulous eye, in personal attractions ;-of these latter, however, we can say no more than that, to those who considered Willie Bats extremely handsome, she must have appeared a paragon of beauty. We have said Cicely was good-tempered, and we are almost inclined to wish that the truth had been otherwise, in order that we might have made it a plausible excuse for Willie's extreme bashfulness. The approach of a cannon ball could not alarm him more than the appearance of his charmer; and he would have preferred staring at the sun in its meridian splendour, for an unlimited time, to a hasty glance at Cicely's face, with the attendant risk he encountered of meeting her eyes half way. In fact, had their streams of love already mingled in the turbulent ocean of matrimony he could not possibly have feared her more. With such feelings as these, did Willie Bats take Cicely's hand in the dance, and, at the touch, melted-not with love, but perspiration. Behold him now, in turn, at the head of the troop, preparing to conduct his graceful partner, in measured step, to the end of the lines. With what steady, what becoming gravity, do they run their course! how timidly does he touch her ample zone! and see how stedfastly he averts his face, red hot with exercise, from the danger of incineration, to which a view of her charms would expose him! Now, amid the cheers and laughter of the assembled village, they have reached the goal, and, thoroughly exhausted with the exercise, retire from the dancers;-side by side sit the turtle-doves, each looking resolutely forwards, not daring to encounter the other's gaze.

No sooner had the retirement of this pair afforded the villagers opportunity for noticing other matters, than they discovered that Willie and his charmer were not the only deserters. Heringford and Kate Westrill were no longer on the green. Willie Bats nothing doubted of the true cause-Edward had promptly attended to his wishes, and his roundabout declaration of love was now going through its first stage. The thought tempted him to steal a glance at its object: slowly and cautiously he turned his head slightly towards the side on which Cicely was seated, and then, straining his eyes to their extremest obliquity, perceived—oh, dire confusion! shall we not devote a new chapter to the discovery?

No; be it said at once-that she also was stealing a glance at him: their eyes, despite their former precautions, now met, and who shall say what would have ensued between the blushing pair, if Edward and Kate had not that moment appeared, and, by diverting their attention, stopped all further proceedings? If Willie had before guessed at the cause of Edward's absence, his belief was now confirmed. What but a conference upon the important subject that absorbed all Willie's faculties, could occasion the meaning glances which passed between the returned absentees? What could account for the unusual manner in which Kate's little hand was squeezed, unless Edward wished to remind her of the promise he had obtained in favour of Cicely and her devoted swain? And Willie was right, for Edward had indeed obtained a promise; but he had forgotten Cicely, and it was only in favour of himself.

CHAPTER THE THIRD.

ELLERTON CASTLE-FAMILY RECORDS-A MIDNIGHT MEETING, AND
ITS RESULT.

THERE is a strange and undefined feeling excited in the breasts of most men at the sight of a ruined edifice. When we behold the spot on which have dwelt generation after generation crumbling to the dust, the scene of human hopes, and fears, and pride, and sorrow, following the fate of those who tenanted it, a sad conviction of the perishable nature of earthly circumstance is, unconsciously, implanted within us, and leads us from the ruins of time to a vague contemplation of eternity. The more glorious the pile that lies mouldering before us, the more deeply are we oppressed by these sensations; and we turn away from the spot with a subdued step, and a sentiment of awe that the pride of the most imposing structure could never succeed in awakening.

When, in addition to this, the stillness of night reigns around, and the wavering light of the moon casts its flickering shadows; when no sound, no object arises to divert the attention; there can, surely, be few men so callous as not to feel some portion of the depression that these scenes convey.

But there were more causes than these that combined to weigh