colonels. Others put spurs to their horses and left the camp, fearing they could not restrain the desire for vengeance which devoured them. Others talked of going to the chateau to remonstrate with the king, and compel him to act in accordance with his first decision. Others went in search of the commissaries to seize them. Others loudly demanded that the cowardly traitors who had given such base counsel to the king should be given up to them; but, for the space of three or four hours, it is impossible to give an adequate description of the dismay and confusion which prevailed."* Then as the royal procession quitted Dreux, the faithful troops, "as a tribute of fidelity and affection, placed themselves along the road by which the king was to pass, and, for the last time, slowly and silently, and with tears in their eyes, presented those arms which they would joyfully have wielded against the enemies, and in defence of the cause of their lawful monarch, but which now, by the weakness of an old man and the cowardly treachery of his advisers, were broken and rendered useless in their hands. In addition to the poignant grief they felt at the departure of Charles X., they saw the royal child to whom they were all attached, and whom they had looked upon with feelings of pride as their future king, torn from them and carried into a land of exile;" and, when the last scene of this moving drama was enacted at Valognes, "the gardesdu-corps, no longer able to master their emotion, left the ranks to prostrate themselves at the feet of the king and princes, who, extending their hands, could only reply with tears. Seized with the contagion of the same spirit, they all rose and flung themselves on their knees before their distressed sovereign, and even shed tears over those standards which were never again to wave at the head of our victorious squadrons. Oh! it was an affecting and touching thing to see this mass of warriors weeping at the feet of a dethroned monarch and a child whose destined throne had been wrested from him before he could ascend it. Several times in the day the Duc de Bordeaux had shown himself in the balcony, when he was received by the villagers, who crowded round the gates, with an enthusiasm of which he was very proud; and he related to those officers admitted to his presence the kind and flattering words he had heard-poor child! whose career in life opened with misfortune and exile, and who, perhaps, one day, under the dark and tempestuous sky of a strange land, will dream of the flowers and sunshine of his own country."+

(To be continued.)

Op. cit. pp. 117, 118, 119. † Op. cit., p. 189-193.

R. F. O'CONNOR.

THE MOORES OF MOORE'S COURT.

BY DENIS F. HANNIGAN.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Whether it was that Mr. Sharkey considered his reception by the ladies more ceremonious than cordial, or that he wished to avoid much familiarity, knowing that his visit was of too official a nature to put him on intimate terms with the family, he certainly did not feel quite at his case during dinner, and found himself drifting into the dullest commonplace, and trying to evolve some wooden humour out of professional jargon in his attempts to join in the conversation. The fact is, this faithful votary of the law, having lived a bachelor during the greater part of his life, and having mixed in no society for many years but that of persons connected with his daily avocations, had little of that graceful ease which is thought to be one of the highest marks of good-breeding. Even when the ladies had left the dining-room, the attorney seemed to be in a state of mental confusion, which was a remarkable contrast to his ordinary professional shrewdness. However, under the mellowing influence of wine, and with male companions, his self-complacency soon returned, and he spoke with a freedom, and even a vivacity, that surprised and somewhat discomposed the baronet.

"You may have observed that I am not what is generally called a ladies' man, Sir Annesley," he said, with a short laugh, as he drank off a glass of wine. "I am a little musty, you see; but it is only natural in a lawyer who has lived a single life for many years."

The baronet nodded, at a loss for a reply.

"It would seem from your tone, Mr. Sharkey," Frank broke in, "that you don't intend to remain single always."

Mr. Sharkey filled out another glass of wine, and laughed. "That is rather a delicate question, Mr. Moore," he said, with a kind of smirking affectation. "A man at my time of life ought to have his mind made up-don't you think so?"

"Well, really, I don't know," replied Frank, laughing. "It is probably a question of taste."

"You seem to look at the question in a spirit of true moderation," said the attorney, more seriously than Frank really expected. "I agree with you that we cannot lay down arbitrary rules in such cases. It is not always in our power to marry early in life, and ”— glancing curiously towards Sir Annesley-"young men rarely turn out good husbands."

"Well, I don't know whether I can claim to be an authority on such questions," returned the baronet with a forced smile. "These things depend so much on circumstances, that it is vain to dogmatize upon the subject."

"No doubt-no doubt, Sir Annesley. It depends on individual tastes, perhaps, more than anything else." "Well, to return to the question that Mr. Moore asked me just now, I must say that of late I have felt rather inclined to bid adieu to celibacy."

"You express yourself admirably, Mr. Sharkey," said Frank, who enjoyed the attorney's confidential tone.

"There are so many drawbacks," Mr. Sharkey went on, "where one leads a solitary life-particularly when one is engaged in worldly pursuits-that existence becomes rather dreary. You cannot well receive a visitor, and cannot depend upon servants. You have nobody in whom you may repose perfect confidence. In fact, the utility of marriage is becoming clearer to me every day.” "You have begun to reflect on the subject rather late in life," said the baronet, in a tone that appeared slightly disdainful. "Can it really be true, Mr. Sharkey, that you have remained unmarried up to this time?"

This direct question rather posed the attorney, and he coughed awkwardly twice or thrice before he returned

"It is the fact, Sir Annesley. It has not been my happiness. to-to lead a bride to the altar up to this stage of my existence; but I hope to have that pleasure ere long, Sir Annesley. I would like to meet a young lady of good birth and cultivated mind, who might be, if I may use the expression, a social ornament." "So, then, your choice would rest upon a young lady, Mr. Sharkey?" said Frank, with a smile. "Do you not fear that you would scarcely find a congenial partner in a young person?"

"On the contrary, I believe it is much safer and wiser for a young lady to marry a man of experience," replied the lawyer boldly. "Is it not the most important thing for a young lady of good family, but limited expectations, to have a prospect of an ample provision in life?"

Frank could not help laughing at this worldly climax to so much turgid rhetoric.

By this time Mr. Sharkey had taken a considerable quantity of wine; and his utterance was by no means so accurate as it had been an hour before. He flourished his glass in a very convivial fashion, and as he raised it to his lips, said :—

"May I take the liberty, Sir Annesley, of drinking the health of that most accomplished young lady, your daughter?"

The baronet seemed thunderstruck by the lawyer's effrontery, and hastily springing up from his seat, cried :—

"This is a piece of insolence I never anticipated, sir! You seem to think that you are at liberty to insult my family as well as myself."

"Oh! a thousand pardons, Sir Annesley," said the attorney, in rather a crestfallen manner; "I assure you, I never intended the slightest offence. I meant it all in the spirit of friendship.” Friendship, sir!" repeated the baronet, disdainfully. "Don't talk to me of friendship, though you may think yourself privileged to threaten me when I am in difficulties. Come, Frank," he added, turning to his son, "let us return to the drawing-room.” As Frank arose, Sir Annesley, looking rather sternly at the attorney, said—“ I think it would be wiser for you, Mr. Sharkey, to retire early. You will be shown to your room. You may feel a little fatigued, perhaps; and I would certainly advise you not to see the ladies again to-night."

The last words were uttered with such bitter irony, that the attorney wriggled painfully in his seat.

When Sir Annesley and Frank had quitted the dining-room, he poured out another glass of wine, and drank it off in haste; then, after a few minutes' pause, during which he vainly tried to take a clear view of the situation with his besotted faculties, he arose, and rather unsteadily advanced towards the stairs, where the housemaid was waiting, with a candle in her hand, to direct him towards his chamber.

When he found himself alone, he cast a hazy glance around the bedroom, and approaching the large mirror which stood in a corner, surveyed his image with a kind of maudlin curiosity.

"I'm not so very old, after all," he muttered, "and not so very bad-looking either, only for this"-here he winced a little, as he laid his fingers on the carbuncle that adorned his nose—“ and besides, I'm a man of good position, which is the chief consideration. Girl a little too young, perhaps ; but, if I could marry her, the estate would soon be mine. I could brush off that young fellow like a fly. No need, then, to resort to the other alternative."

With this soliloquy, the attorney, who was rapidly becoming too muddled to collect his thoughts very easily, hurried into bed, and was soon dreaming of successful schemes and unlimited wealth.

Soon after breakfast the following morning, Mr. Sharkey invited the baronet to accompany him over the estate; and accordingly they both went out together.

The baronet did not at all relish the task of guiding Mr. Sharkey over the property which he had always been taught to regard as his own. He did not seem inclined to treat the lawyer with anything more than formal courtesy, for the scene in the dining-room had left too disagreeable an impression on his mind to be easily effaced. As they walked along, the lawyer made several attempts to draw out Sir Annesley on the subject of marriage, but found himself so sternly repelled that he at length confined his remarks to the general aspect of the estate and the condition of the tenantry. They visited several of the farm

houses; and Mr. Sharkey did not hesitate to ask the tenants how much they paid per acre for their land, and the number of acres they severally held. Indeed, he seemed anxious to make it known that he was personally interested in ascertaining the value of the property, as if thereby to show his vexation at the contemptuous manner in which Sir Annesley had treated him. At length they bent their steps towards Moore's Court.

On every side the arbutus, with its crimson berries, met the eye. Occasional glimpses of the sea, wherever the hills were divided by some narrow cleft, gave an additional interest to the landscape. But Nature spoke to these men's hearts in vain!

As they were passing the church-yard, where Mr. Callanan had sorrowed over his mother's grave, and where, a few weeks after, he had buried his only daughter

"Do you know, Mr. Sharkey, why Callanan brought his daughter to be buried here?" asked the baronet, glancing curiously into the church-yard.

"I really don't know, Sir Annesley," answered the attorney, considerably surprised at the question. "I believe some of his

friends were buried there before."

"His mother, I believe?" said Sir Annesley.

"Indeed! I was not aware of that, Sir Annesley."

"Do you know who or what his mother was?" asked the baronet, stopping suddenly in his walk.

"No, Sir Annesley."

"Let us come in here, then, and see her grave."

Mr. Sharkey was astonished at Sir Annesley's curiosity, which he thought rather uncalled for; but, seeing that the baronet had already entered the church-yard, he followed without saying a word. Some time was lost in trying to discover the spot where Mr. Callanan's relatives were interred. At length Sir Annesley stopped before two graves, one of which was marked out by a plain headstone. His eye caught the name "Callanan" on this stone, and he eagerly read the inscription from beginning to end. "So, then, his mother was the adopted child of a peasant?" muttered the baronet-" a tenant, I suppose, of my father. Ah! there is some secret buried beneath this stone."

"I believe, Sir Annesley," said the lawyer, as they left the grave-yard, “he has no reason to love your father's memory." "Why? Do you know anything about the matter?" the baronet inquired, rather excitedly.

"Well, I can't clear up the mystery, Sir Annesley, if we may call it such; but I have often heard him speak with something like hatred of Sir Valentine Moore."

"Ha! and this is the reason he wishes to injure me, I suppose?"

"I believe his animosity extends to all your family, Sir Annesley?"