that strange and ungovernable passion.

Early the next morning the squire was so completely exhausted by the
consequences of watching, anxiety, and want of rest, that he felt
himself overcome by sleep, and was obliged to go to bed. Before he
went, however, he made Reilly promise that he would not go until he had
breakfasted, then shook him cordially by the hand, thanked him again and
again for the deep and important obligations he had imposed upon him
and his child, and concluded by giving him a general invitation to his
house, the doors of which, he said, as well as the heart of its owner,
should be ever ready to receive him.

"As for Helen, here," said he, "I leave her to thank you herself,
which I am sure she will do in a manner becoming the services you have
rendered her, before you go."

She then kissed him tenderly and he retired to rest.

At breakfast, Reilly and Miss Folliard were, of course, alone, if we may
say so. Want of rest and apprehension had given a cast of paleness to
her features that, so far from diminishing, only added a new and tender
character to her beauty. Reilly observed the exquisite loveliness of her
hand as she poured out the tea; and when he remembered the gentle but
significant pressure which it had given to his, more than once or twice,
on the preceding night, he felt as if he experienced a personal interest
in her fate--as if their destinies were to be united--as if his growing
spirit could enfold hers, and mingle with it forever. The love he felt
for her pervaded and softened his whole being with such a feeling of
tenderness, timidity, and ecstasy, that his voice, always manly and
firm, now became tremulous in its tones; such, in truth, as is always