He accordingly went out, and bent his I steps by a long, rude green
lane, which extended upwards of half a mile across a rich! country,
undulating with fields and meadows. This was terminated by a clump of,
hawthorn trees, then white and fragrant with their lovely blossoms,
which lay in rich profusion on the ground. Contiguous to this was a
small but delightful green glen, from the side of which issued one of
those beautiful spring wells for which the country is so celebrated.
Over a verdant little hill, which concealed this glen and the well we
mention, from a few humble houses, or rather a decenter kind of cabins,
was visible a beaten pathway by which the inhabitants of this small
hamlet came for their water. Upon this, shaded as he was by the
trees, he steadily kept his eye for a considerable time, as if in the
expectation of some person who had made an appointment to meet him. Half
an hour had nearly elapsed--the shades of evening were now beginning
to fall, and he had just come to the resolution of retracing his steps,
with a curse of disappointment on his lips, when, on taking another,
and what he intended to be a last glance at the pathway in question,
he espied the individual for whom he waited. This was no other than the
young beauty of the neighborhood--Grace Davoren. She was tripping along
with a light and merry step, lilting an Irish air of a very lively
character, to which she could scarcely prevent herself from dancing, so
elastic and buoyant were her spirits. On coming to the brow of the glen
she paused a moment and cast her eye searchingly around her, but seemed
after the scrutiny to hesitate about proceeding farther.

Woodward immediately showed himself, and after beckoning to her,
proceeded toward the well. She still paused, however, as if irresolute;
but after one or two significant gestures on his part, she descended
with a slow and apparently a timid step, and in a couple of minutes
stood beside the well. The immediate purport of their conversation