"DEAR SIR ANNESLEY,-I enclose you a copy of the decree of the Court of Chancery, by which immediate possession of Moore's Court, with power of sale, is given to the mortgagee, Mr. Vincent Callanan. I shall, in a few days, proceed to Moore's Court for the purpose of taking possession; and, by my client's directions, I intend to have the estate immediately sold. "Yours respectfully, "NATHANIEL SHARKEY." The letter fell from her hand. She gazed with a feeling of mingled awe and sorrow at her dead father. Lady Moore had already despatched a messenger for the nearest doctor, and, kneeling on the ground, she was now vainly striving to chafe the death-cold hand. Rose stood by, looking much paler and more pensive than usual. But gradually her face assumed a stern aspect; and she clenched her hand, as persons sometimes do when labouring under some violent excitement. This look, however, soon gave way to a softer and more feminine expression. Her lips quivered, and the tears burst forth, despite her strenuous will, as the waters of yore issued from the rock. She bent down and kissed her father's pallid cheek. "O poor papa!" she exclaimed passionately, "have you left us without one farewell? You have gone for ever from us, and the fortunes of our house are dark indeed!” Then, hurriedly drying her eyes, as if she were ashamed of her emotion, she cast a pitying glance at her mother, who was weeping silently. She tenderly embraced her surviving parent, and gently chiding her, said: "It is useless to weep now, dearest mamma. Let us be strong! We require our strength, indeed, now." When the doctor arrived, he pronounced Sir Annesley to be dead, and expressed it as his professional opinion that life must have been extinct for some hours before the fact was discovered. He considered that the fatal event had been caused by a sudden fit of apoplexy. Rose Moore, though she was deeply affected by her father's unexpected death, did not exhibit any violent grief. Indeed, she found it hard to realize for some days that it was not all a troubled dream. Yet, in those intervals of reflection, when she found time and opportunity to take a mental survey of the past, and to weigh fully the terrible fact that she was fatherless, she felt herself almost overpowered by her own emotions. Perhaps the most awful moment of youth is that in which we discover, for the first time, that one of the great links which bind us to life has been rent asunder. While we are still young, our buoyant spirits can scarcely acknowledge the reality of death. The influence of custom and the energy of youthful hope seem to fill us with the belief that we ourselves and all around us are immortal. We imagine that the uniformity of our existence will never be broken by any fatal eclipse. But, when the fatal arrow has stricken down some dear friend-when some voice which sounded daily in our cars has suddenly been stilled for everwhen we see the pale victim lying before us, cold and still and motionless, we feel that we have only been cherishing a dream, and life itself appears far less real and potent than death. . On the day after that on which Sir Annesley was buried, Mr. Sharkey, who, indeed, had not neglected the formality of appearing in deep mourning at the funeral, proceeded to take possession of Moore's Court, and delicately hinted that the ladies would greatly oblige him by changing their place of residence as soon as possible. Miss Quain had already gone, and Lady Moore had given her "good-bye" with considerable emotion. Rose, indeed, was far from being unmoved at the prospect of parting with her governess, towards whom she had always, in spite of her inherent pride, shown a strong attachment. It was the very day of their departure from Moore's Court; and Rose and her mother were already dressed as if for travelling. The phaeton-last remnant of family pride-was waiting at the door to convey them away. They intended to proceed to Dublin, where there was a cousin of Lady Moore, who had asked them to come and live with her, at least for a time, until they could provide a new home. A feeling of deep sadness, almost too deep for words, filled their hearts. Even Aunt Deborah seemed really moved; for she dropped a tear on the wellthumbed volume of Fox, which she was depositing in her reticule. "The poor old place!" cried Rose; "we shall never see it again, I suppose. Indeed, I fear now that the story of the family curse, which the old woman told me long ago, must have some truth in it." "What old woman do you speak of, Rose?" asked her mother, rather curiously. "Old Nance Flaherty, the postman's mother. When I went to visit her some time since, during her illness, she told me that the first of our family was cursed by a priest, who prayed, when he was dying, that the inheritance should one day pass out of our hands. He said, too, that only one of the Moores could escape the curse, which was to affect our family's spiritual and temporal welfare; and the way in which that solitary member could escape was to forsake the world and embrace a religious life." "This may be some old popular legend," said Lady Moore, thoughtfully; "yet sometimes these stories are imperfect accounts of old traditions which have some foundation in fact." "Who knows but the curse may be fulfilled even in its saving clause!" said Rose, with a faint smile; "for, indeed, I think it is not wise to regard this world as one's natural home. Nearly all that our family was proud of has vanished-the estate is ours no longer; poor papa' is dead; Frank is far away, a mere adventurer in a distant clime. I fear, mamma, I have loved the world too well; and I find myself bitterly disappointed." Aunt Deborah austerely compressed her lips, and slightly turned up the whites of her eyes. At that moment Mr. Sharkey approached, smirking with a mixture of obsequiousness and insolence. "I am sorry I have to give you this inconvenience, ladies," he said, in his most sugary tone; "but the fact is, the place is to be sold on the day after to-morrow, and we must make some little preparations, you know." "Oh! pray don't make any apologies, sir!" returned Lady Moore, with cold politeness. "We did not expect that you would show us very much consideration." "Pardon me, madam," said the attorney, bowing rather awkwardly, "I think you scarcely do me justice. I once made a very important proposal to your late lamented husband, but unfortunately he refused. Though it may appear rather a delicate subject, I may observe that I sought to obtain the hand of your interesting daughter in marriage, madam." "Indeed!" Lady Moore exclaimed, with considerable astonish ment. "Yes, madam, that was my ambition-an honourable ambition, I hope-and if Sir Annesley had acceded to my request, you would never be under the disagreeable necessity of quitting Moore's Court." "You wretched creature!" exclaimed Rose, unable to control her indignation, and all the pride of her race for one moment gleaming in her eyes, “had you the audacity to make such a proposal to my father? Begone, you vile, crawling wretch! we do not fear you. If I were a man, you should not long stand there writhing and grinning like some loathsome reptile. Come away, mamma! It is vain to waste words on so pitiful a creature." The ladies advanced to the door of the mansion, which they were about to quit for ever; and as they ascended into the carriage, Mr. Sharkey, filled with anger and humiliation, gnashed his teeth and muttered : : "She's a desperate fury, and ought to have that sharp tongue of hers cut out, if the law allowed it. Well, at any rate, they're gone at last, and I think I have won the game. When I get the purchase-money, I shall make my next move. Ha, ha, ha!" and the facetious attorney rubbed his hands together and laughed with great self-complacency at the joke he had perpetrated. (To be continued.) |