have you look ill at the good Fitzhammond's festival. Go to your room, dearest, and keep quiet. Good news spreads fast, and the Delvins will hear of Ambrose's release; doubtless, before you could reach their cottage: to be sure, he will go thither himself the first thing; and at such a moment you would only be in the way."

Lady Emily was obliged to yield a reluctant consent to her uncle's wishes; when, kissing his extended hand, and curtseying to Mr. Aldget, she withdrew.

Although Emily's wishes, had they been uncontrolled, would have led her to seek the Delvins in their cottage, and to have been the first to communicate the happy tidings, she felt a joy in the assurance that the event would not fail to reach them, and that it must be productive of the happiest consequences. Already in idea she saw Rose and Ambrose, the mutual pride of their parents, reconciled and united; and she beheld them established in their neat and comfortable cottage, the pattern of their native village, industrious and prosperous: and she pleased herself with the thought, that on

the morrow, when Rose hastened to her with the news, she should accompany her back to congratulate the good old Delvin and his wife, on this happy termination of all their sorrow. Alas! the youthful heart looks not beyond the present moment, and the felicity it expects is eagerly and too securely called its own. Lady Emily little knew what a sad reverse to her hopes the morrow would produce!

The first use Ambrose made of his liberty, as soon as he could steal away from his father, whose anger against Rose, whatever displeasure he felt himself against her, he could not bear to witness in another, was to fly to her dwelling to obtain an explanation of her conduct, which, he doubted not, would be as satisfactory and as efficacious in allaying his father's wrath, as in dispelling his own suspicions. His liberation from prison, although owing it to Mr. Carlton detracted from its value; his ardent and honest wish to account to Rose for the violence of his conduct on the morning of their last unfortunate meeting, although indeed the circumstances at

tendant upon it fully justified him—all flushed his heart with joy and anxiety.

The sun was shining unobscured by a cloud, the birds singing from every flowery spray, and the fresh herbage springing from every clod, beautified the earth. It requires refinement to speak of these things, but none to feel them : they are given by God to all his creatures alike, for their delight and their advantage; and many a gentle heart resides under a rustic garb, which does enjoy and is grateful for them, and such was that of Ambrose.

As he stepped along Love-lane, the wellknown resort of all village lovers, he came suddenly up to her whom he was seeking; she was walking slowly, with her eyes upon the ground, and sweeping the earth with a bunch of mayflowers she held in one hand.

"Rose! dear Rose! do you not know me? I am Ambrose, your own Ambrose."

"Bless me, why who'd have thought to have seen you here? I thought you'd been in gaol.”

"Well, Rose, that's not over and above kind,

methinks, to remind a man of his misfortunes; and the more's the cruelty of it, when you consider how I got there. Why, Rose! are ye not glad to see me? if that's the case, I wish with all my heart I was back there again."

66

Why really, Mr. Philips, you took me so by surprise, I don't know what to say!"

"Mr. Philips! why Rose," and he looked in her face, "are you my Rose? now don't call me Mister! I had rather ye knocked my head with a stone, that I would! I did not think, not I, as how you could treat a poor lad so! and one to whom you are betrothed!"

"Why, I wonder," returned the heartless girl, "what you could expect, after the ungenteel manner in which you behaved yourself to a gentleman with whom I was walking."

"He a gentleman! a pretty gentleman, truly ! why, I wonder, Rose, to hear you talk so! I never had thought to have seen the day! never. I wonder you are not ashamed of yourself; and if you comes to that, Miss Rose, why what

business had you to be walking with him, or any man ?"

"And pray, Mr. Philips, what's your business who I walk with? I suppose I may walk with who I choose, and talk too, and hold flirtations too, as my mother calls it, if I choose; and no obligation neither to ask your leave that I know of!"

66

Why, Rose, you quite astound me! as a body may say; why isn't you and I as good as wedded man and wife? haven't we exchanged tokens? broke our bit of silver together? and many 's the time, in this sweet lane, have we not swore to be true till death! and haven't our fathers and yourn good mother blessed us? and can ye now say I have no right to know what made you keep company with that fine Squire ?"

"You have no right, Mr. Philips, but what I choose to give you; and I don't know, after what has happened, that I shall choose to see you never no more!"

"Not me! not see me never no more! Well