taken place in my fortunes since I saw you last."

"What do you mane, Denis?" inquired Susan, suddenly ceasing to knit, and
fixing her eyes upon him with a glance of alarm.

"To be plain, Susy, I find that Maynooth is my destination. It has been
arranged between my father and Docthor Finnerty, that I must become
a laborer in the vineyard; that is, that I must become a priest, and
cultivate the grape. It's a sore revelation to make to an amorous
maiden; but destiny will be triumphant:--

_Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis_."

The poor girl suddenly laid down the work on which she had been engaged,
her face became the color of ashes, and the reply she was about to make
died upon her lips. She again resumed her stocking, but almost instantly
laid it down a second time, and appeared wholly unable either to believe
or comprehend what he said.

"Denis," she at length asked, "Did you say that all is to be over
between us?"

"That was my insinuation," replied Denis, "The fact is, Susy, that
destiny is adverse; clean against our union in the bonds of matrimonial
ecstacy. But, Susy, my charmer, I told you before that you were not
destitute of logic, and I hope you will bear this heavy visitation as
becomes a philosopher."

"Bear it, Denis! How ought I to bear it, after your saying and swearing,
too, that neither father, nor mother, nor priest, nor anybody else would