veins seemed to rush into his face, as he thought of Disgrace being associated with the name he had proposed to ally with his own. Bracton a robber! he doubted the evidence of his senses ; but he spurs madly on, with looks disordered, and his dress splashed with hard riding.

Men turn round from their lounge on the pavement, to look at him with surprise. Eustace, calm and measured in all he does? Eustace, the man of habitual self-command? What does it mean? It means one thing, in the opinion of most among those who observe him: the readiest, the most probable theory in the England, and in the London, of that day. He has evidently been drinking, they opine. Whether he therefore rises or falls in public estimation depends a good deal on the disposition of the individual spectator. There are some, no doubt, who triumph in winning (so they deem) George Eustace, "that supercilious sobersides," to their view of life, and rejoice that he can prove himself a good fellow after all.

Meanwhile, heedless, unconscious of these favourable opinions, he presses on. He skirts Burlington House, almost the last remaining mansion of the lordly London of Hogarth's pencil. He emerges on Piccadilly, urges his horse a short distance down St. James'-street, and springs to the pavement opposite the great portal of Crockford's noted gambling-club. Now for the solution-is Bracton here ?

W

REGINA ANGELORUM.

HENE'ER I doubt if one so base as I

Shall share with heavenly choirs their joys serene,
This thought brings sweetest solace to my soul,
That thou, my Lady, art the Angels' Queen.

No seraph-form, to human weakness strange,
The regal sceptre holds in that high place,
But at the right hand of the King of kings
Thou sittest throned, a daughter of our race.

Mother of God, creation's star-crowned Queen,
Heaven's mightiest spirits worship at thy feet,
Yet 'mid the splendour of thy pomp divine

Our Mother and our Sister still we greet.

Shall I then fear to face the glittering ranks

That guard from step profane heaven's dazzling scene?
Their flame-tipped swords shall lower at the cry:

"Angels of God, my Mother is your Queen."

E. G. S.

THE WILD BIRDS OF KILLEEVY.

A TALE.

BY ROSA MULHOLLAND,

AUTHOR OF 'HESTER'S HISTORY," "THE WICKED WOODS OF TOBEREEVIL," ETC.

BOOK SECOND.

CHAPTER XX.

LISBETH AGAIN.

FAN had passed through her great trial in the most triumphant manner, giving entire satisfaction to her guardians. The success of her début was unquestioned, and already she had received the offer of a first-rate engagement to sing in Paris. But before this matter had been fully discussed, before Lord Wilderspin and Herr Harfenspieler had met on the day after the performance, early in the cool of the morning following that exciting evening, Fan and the Signora had stolen away from the city to a little country retreat that had been prepared for them. At Fanchea's earnest request, arrangements had been made for this hasty flight after her public appearance. She had been living in a fever of excitement for some time before the event; as the day approached, she had felt more and more unwillingness to appear on the stage, and her success had been bought by a tremendous effort at self-conquest.

"Let us get away the moment it is over," she had implored the Signora, "away into the green country, away from all the crowds of faces, where we shall not know whether I have failed or succeeded."

She had not told the Signora that part of her excitement was due to the fact that she expected to see Kevin among the audience. She felt that until the great trial was over, she could not speak on the subject of her meeting with her childhood's friend. She was already devoured by more excitement than she well knew how to master; and felt that to speak, or even to think much of Kevin, would be to give way and break down. Nevertheless, she had expected to see him on the terrible night, and she had seen him. Her friends, Lord Wilderspin and Herr Harfenspieler, had seen him, too, recognising him through his companions; and each had thanked heaven that Fanchea had been left in ignorance of his presence at Milan. They were also pleased that her request had been acceded to, and that she would at once be removed from the likelihood of a meeting with him.

"He is really a distinguished-looking young man," said Lord Wilderspin. "My mind misgives me for keeping them apart."

"You cannot keep them apart longer than fate wills," said the Harfenspieler, mournfully. "Up to this, I believe, your action has produced nothing but good to both. What I would give now to know that he is really married to the baroness!"

"I always thought that an unlikely story," said the old lord, who, somehow of late-ever since he had seen her eyes so red with crying, had begun to think that Fan was not the sort of creature to be happy on a stage, and that home was the best place for a woman, after all. As for his own hobby, had he not ridden it to his heart's content? He had proved his discrimination in discovering a first-rate voice, and forcing all good judges, as well as the public, to acknowledge that it was so. She had the world now at her feet, if only she would choose to live for the world.

But the old musician took a different view of the case. He had laboured not for the gratification of a whim, but that art might be glorified through his means. So far from being content with the result, and willing to turn from this achieved success, because the crowd had approved his work, and he saw himself now only on the first step towards attaining his desire. The long, famous, brilliant career which he saw opening before his pupil could alone repay him for the efforts of the last seven years, and that she should pursue it every step of the way, ever improving, ripening, gathering fresh power as she went, and pouring out the riches of her maturity and experience on the altar of art, for the increase and exaltation of its worship, was the burning desire of his soul. He turned away from Lord Wilderspin with an impatient frown, as his lordship's eyes kept flitting restlessly from Elsa on the stage to Kevin sitting wrapped in his corner among the audience.

"By Jove, I think he recognises her !" muttered his lordship; and Herr Harfenspieler could bear it no longer, but went off to mount guard and prevent the possibility of Kevin's sudden appearance behind the scenes. And Fan, holding her own secret, and keeping her own counsel, had made it easy for him to hurry her away the moment the performance was over. She would choose her own time and place for the meeting she longed for, and which her friends so much dreaded.

Her plan was to rest for a few days in her country retreat, and when she had gathered strength and courage, make her discovery known to the Signora. Then she would write to Kevin and ask him to come to see her.

As they stepped into an early train the next morning, they found the carriage already occupied by a little elderly lady of peculiar appearance. It was Lisbeth, bent on one of her solitary and erratic excursions. Hearing her travelling companions speak English, she immediately addressed them.

"It is so pleasant to hear even English spoken," she said; "I am so sick of that tiresome Italian, which I never mean to learn."

"Are you English, then?" asked Fan, with an arch glance at the Signora, who was looking fierce at this attack on her beloved mothertongue.

"I am German," said Lisbeth. "I would not be anything else. English people are so provoking-English or Irish, it's all the same." "Do you know much of the Irish?" asked Fan, with quickened interest. "Enough," said Lisbeth. "One of our party is an Irish gentleman. I must say he is a favourite of mine; but wrong-headed." A light came into the minds of both Fan and the Signora, faintly foretelling what was to come. Fanchea became eager to continue the conversation; but the signora, warned by Herr Harfenspieler, was anxious to put an end to it.

"My dear," she said, "do not fatigue yourself talking any more. Think of what you have gone through."

"But it rests me to talk about my country-people," said Fan, smiling; and then turning to Lisbeth: "Wrong-headed,' I think you

said ?"

"As poets will be. But I cannot allow anyone to abuse him except myself."

"If I do not know who he is," said Fan, smiling, "I cannot injure him."

"And I am not going to betray his name. But he is a young man, himself humbly born, though full of genius, and he might marry a lovely lady a lady of wealth and title-if he would. Yet he has no mind to do it. You could never guess why ?"

"Never!" said Fanchea. She was quite sure that Kevin was the young man alluded to, and she had almost exclaimed: "Is he not then married to her ?" but checked herself, and merely said: "Never!"

66

eight years

Why, all because of a craze for searching the world over in quest of a little girl he lost on an Irish mountain some seven or ago. I can hardly believe it, and yet it is forced on me. As you do not know the people at all, I may speak, and it relieves my mind to talk about it to somebody. The girl must be grown up now, and a nice young woman he will find her, if ever he does find her, which he won't."

"Then no harm will be done," said Fan, radiantly.

"Oh, but it will. He will have lost wealth, ease, a beautiful castle on the Rhine, and a lovely lady for his wife."

"True," said Fan, trying to realise all that Kevin was losing for her sake.

"You may well say 'true,' and all for a baggage like that!"

"But how can you be so sure that the girl will be objectionable when found ?"

"She will never be found."

"I should have said 'if found." "

"How do I know the sun will rise to-morrow? The child was stolen by gipsies, and has, of course, been brought up in their tents. What a charming wife for a man of refinement!"

"He may not think of that," said Fan, softly. "He may not intend to marry at all."

66

'My only hope is that he may never meet her," said Lisbeth.

"I cannot say that I sympathise with you in that wish," said Fan.

"Why?" asked Lisbeth, in surprise.

"Because I am Fanchea; and I shall be glad to meet him. If you see him before I do, tell him so."

Here the train stopped at the station for which the signora and her charge were bound, and before Lisbeth had collected her senses sufficiently to speak again, she saw her pretty fellow-traveller smiling and kissing hands to her from a receding platform.

The signora had sat in silent dismay while the above conversation was being carried on to its conclusion; and as she and Fan walked along the bowery road that led to their cottage retreat, she still kept silence. The blow she had long dreaded had suddenly fallen. Of what further use to advise, to remonstrate, or to be cunningly prudent? Her only hope now lay in the faint chance which remained the possibility that Kevin might prove more sensible than had been supposed.

"Mamzelle!" said Fan, as they walked along, "you must have got a great surprise. I have known for some time past of Kevin's presence in Milan. I saw him in the cathedral, but I did not speak to him. I intended to tell you all about it this evening. To-morrow I will write to my friend."

Mamzelle bowed her head.

said.

"Fate has been too much for me," she

"Now, dear Mamzelle, you must not call it an unkind fate. Did I not sing my best although I knew Kevin was listening me?" "Ah, if you will continue to sing," said the signora.

But Fan promised nothing. She said in her heart that she would do whatever Kevin might approve.

They found their country hiding-place a little house wrapped in vines and roses; and that evening Fan wandered about the garden pondering deeply on the news she had heard. Had that good old lady who belonged to his party, and seemed to know him so well, spoken truth? and did he still love her, Fanchea, better than anything else in the world, still think of her with the old romance, the old delight? She wondered if he recognised her in the theatre last night, when he had gazed at her so fixedly, so constantly. How noble, how handsome, how good he looked: just as her dreams had so often pictured him to her! And