Spenton accordingly, his wound having been found trivial, was tightly bound; and Edward, having gagged his mouth to prevent him from calling assistance, deposited him safely in the adjoining room: returning then to Kate Westrill he closed the door between them.

"I would have borne thee hence, Kate," said he, impetuously; "I would have borne thee hence, and find myself thus taken. But what matter? How much happier am I here with thee than in freedom when thou art absent. How vain is every care while I have love's smile to cheer me and uphold; to the lover, Kate, from the loved alone can sorrow come, for if she withhold her smile, then, and then alone, will misery be his. And now if they slay me, I can bear my fate while my last words fall upon thine ear."

A conversation thus commenced cannot but prove confidential; and profound as is the respect we entertain for the reader who honours us with his attention, yet we know our place too well to admit even him as a third party in the confabulation; he will see, however, if he return to Mat Maybird that for the present, at least, it was decidedly needless to talk about "last words," and that all the enthusiastic sentences which Edward poured into his Kate's ear, spoke of a faith and fortitude that, at all events, in the then position of affairs, were not likely to be tested. Moreover, we have a long time kept Mat Maybird and other friends waiting at the door, and good breeding reminds us that they should not longer be neglected.

We have already hinted the very original observation, that, where two parties are love-making, a third is one too many :-so thought Mat when he saw Willie Bats and Cicely together, and accordingly, with a praiseworthy consideration for their feelings, he strolled away to a short distance, still keeping his eye upon the cottage door. But Willie and Cicely were not becomingly grateful for this conduct; they considered it excessively awkward to be left alone, were unable to articulate a syllable, even between them, unless Willie's sigh and Cicely's short cough combined would form

one.

"Ah!" sighed Willie, as loudly as he conveniently could.

"Hem!" replied Cicely, by way of encouragement, to indicate that she was ready to listen.

"Cicely!" said Willie, in a very low voice, scarcely indeed audible. "Didst thou speak?" asked the lady.

"No," replied Willie, terrified at the length he had gone.

Another preliminary sigh, and Cicely's name was again whispered.

"What wouldst thou, Willie ?" asked she, determined that this time he should not deny having spoken. But Willie failed a second time at the critical moment.

"Nothing," was his reply.

"Why didst thou call my name, Willie ?" asked the maiden, by way of helping him on.

"I love" commenced Willie, and paused. Cicely now awaited the declaration, "I love-Mistress Kate Westrill."

"So do I," replied Cicely, who knew the limits of his affection. "I love" continued Willie, approaching the subject by degrees," I love everything in Mistress Kate Westrill's house, excepting her brother, when he is there."

"I too love not him," said Cicely.

"Thou art right, my-my dear,"-here was a step: "my dear!" -Cicely of course blushed, and so did the speaker. "I love also," he went on; "I love everything Kate Westrill loves, and everybody too."

This was rather more general than Cicely expected.

"I love," said Willie, "the room in which Kate Westrill dwells; more particularly I love the kitchen."

Cicely felt more satisfied; her bashful sweetheart was gradually coming to the point.

"I love the kitchen," said Willie; "I love it more than any room in the house!"

66

Why?" inquired Cicely, thinking thus to finish the preliminary declarations.

"Because,” replied Willie," thence come the victuals !" Poor Cicely! she had expected a very different answer; she had not thought her lover so devoted to eatables.

"I love the victuals better than any thing else—because Cicely

cooks them."

This was evidently next door to a declaration-it remained but to trace the matter to its primary cause; Willie, who had gained courage as he proceeded, did so briefly.

"I adore Cicely!"

The point thus compassed, he became, on the spot, a melting suitor, hot all over, to the last stage of inconvenient moisture. Cicely also blushed at the sudden avowal.

"Charming Cicely!" continued Willie Bats, "thou wilt be

mine? We shall live together in one house, and look at one another all day long! Wilt thou consent?"

Cicely looked and lisped an affirmative: Willie was delighted. "When," cried he, "when shall we be wedded? Speak, O my charmer."

"Not," replied Cicely, " until Mistress Kate's marriage release me from the duty of attending her."

"Thou and Kate then," said Willie, "ye pair of charmers, shall be wedded on the self-same day; I will persuade Sir Edward to marry Mistress Kate immediately!" Willie then grew very red at the thought of what he was about to perform; he looked at his plighted lady, and, in a low, insinuating voice,—

"A kiss, Cicely," whispered he.

Cicely stood perfectly quiet, ready to receive the favour; but Willie had expected her to be more forward. He looked at her as she stood demurely by his side, felt a cold qualm at his heart; mastered his fears at one gulp, and, throwing his arms around his charmer's neck, was imprinting an energetic kiss upon her lips, when,

"Make way, ye fat pair of turtle doves!" said the voice of Andrew Westrill, who stood, with Sir Richard Ellerton, waiting to pass out.

Willie and Cicely stood abashed, one on each side of the passage. Andrew smiled as he passed; Sir Richard appeared not to observe their presence.

Meanwhile Mat Maybird had paced up and down without the house, wondering at Edward's delay. He feared that some untoward circumstance must have occurred to foil his plans, and was about to enter, for the purpose of ascertaining what had happened, when Andrew Westrill and Sir Richard passing out of the house, verified his suspicions. He had not seen them enter—they must have found their way into Andrew's cottage from the garden behind; Mat walked on, as if he were accidentally passing, and met the two conspirators.

"Well met, Sir Richard!" said he; "I have to demand increased pay now that my services have increased in value.” "The man is taken," replied the other, "he is doomed.-Put Bruton in my power, and I will reward thee well !"

"I saw Heringford in the village," said Mat, "not half an hour since."

"He is safely now locked up," replied Andrew, "with Curts as

a guard; we shall not take his life until we have formed our plan of doing so securely. Curts is known in London; but thou might'st with ease impose upon Bruton-we need some spy upon him wilt enter his service, and Sir Richard will pay thee good wages?"

"Why am I to be Bruton's servant?" asked Mat.

"To insinuate thyself into his confidence," replied Sir Richard Ellerton; "to make thyself seem his dearest friend, whilst thou informest us of all his words and actions, and givest us notice of the first fair opportunity of effecting his destruction."

"That is rather dirty work!" remarked Mat Maybird.

"Here is that," said Sir Richard, putting gold into Mat's hand; "here is that which may hide the stain, though it cannot wipe it off. There is more. Thou shalt be well paid for thy trouble."

Sir Richard and Andrew Westrill walked on; Mat remained looking at the gold, as it lay on his extended palm.

"Money, forsooth!" said he; "gold too! An honourable hire ! It almost burns my hand!"

Taking up one of the coins, he threw it away: "there—that is expended! Heaven help the man that picks it up." A bird flew rapidly above him; he aimed a coin at it and missed. "Lucky bird!" said he, "lucky bird! the touch of this gold would have murdered thee, hadst thou not escaped it; it was directed first against a nobler game; but, whilst I live, it shall not hit the mark!" Scattering the remaining pieces in all directions: "Away!" cried he, "attendant imps of a human devil, ye lead me not astray !" Having thus, in a satisfactory manner, disposed of his wages, Mat Maybird, with a light step and very light heart, walked to the cottage of Father Francis.

"Do not fear," said he, when he found the old man ; "do not be alarmed at seeing me return alone: Edward is a prisoner, and Kate too: there was a slight failure in my plan-an unforeseen circumstance-"

In the mean time Edward and Kate Westrill remained in their prison, each happy in the other's society, and utterly regardless of the dangers by which they were surrounded. Once only they had sought the means of escape, but their search was unsuccessful; they relinquished it, therefore, without much sorrow, and sitting by the window, that looked down upon the cottage garden, watched the declining sun.

"Such, Kate, are our hopes," said Edward: "like yon bright,

unclouded orb, they will soon cease to cheer us; we shall feel night awhile, but again they will rise within our souls; a fair morning will cheer our spirits, and break, in good time, into the warm and sunny happiness of reviving day."

"See," said Kate, "as the setting sun is lost to our eyes, how the blushing west smiles placidly upon us: it seems to bid us be of good cheer, and giveth hope of a bright morrow. Oh, who would wish that his life should be one continued noon? I care not to possess a boon so dazzling! Give me, give me the darkness of night, whence sweet, merry morn ariseth. I feel, Edward, already the fresh pleasure that will be ours when we end our night of trouble."

Such, and ever cheerful, was the nature of the converse with which Edward and Kate whiled the hours rapidly away; Spenton remaining bound in the next room, and Curts diligently on guard without.

The hour of twilight was passed; darkness crept on; the stars shot forth, one after the other; the night breeze rustled cold among the trees, and was the only sound that broke night's silence.

Edward and Kate still sat quietly by the window: the calmness of the scene was stealing over their spirits; it was long since either had spoken.

"Seest thou that, Kate?" cried Edward, suddenly: "there is a man moving in the garden; it is dark, and I cannot distinguish more than that a man is there."

The figure now glided slowly along.

Kate perceived it. Suddenly it stopped beneath the window at which they were seated. It was of a person with his face masked, and his dress evidently a disguise. Edward opened the window, and was made aware of the presence of Mat Maybird.

"What dost thou intend doing?" asked Edward.

Patience, and thou wilt see," replied Mat, and disappeared among the trees. It was not long before he returned with a ladder, which, being placed against an adjacent window, Mat ascended, until his eyes were sufficiently raised to peep in. The sight that encountered him appeared to arouse his indignation, for he made a demonstration against the interior; and then, rapidly descending, planted his ladder beneath the window of Kate Westrill's room. Kate and Edward soon stood without, and looked up, light-hearted, at the empty chamber.

"Now for my fun!" said Mat. Again the ladder was placed against the other window; again Mat Maybird ascended; this time,