LIONEL LACKLAND. 227 



dealt, woman ; and then darkness, darkness, years of maddening 

 grief, madness: oh thou just God! save me from myself ! But 

 hold, girl, hlood pays blood ; ruin for ruin ; — you tremble ; would 

 perhaps betray me; if I thought" — "Never, oh never!" sobbed 

 the woman, " for ever have I loved thee, will love thee for ever; 

 until the pale-leafed Neonin blossoms o'er my grave.'* Her deep 

 convulsive sob alone awoke the silence. ** My poor girl ; my 

 poor broken-hearted girl; weep on, weep on for me, I cannot 

 weep ; my eyes burn, and my brain is withering and scorching, 

 but I cannot weep. In the bright and sunny days of summer; 

 in the merry groups of the winter fire side ; in the dead of the 

 night; in the clear beams of the morning; all alone, with no 

 other sound than the winds, and the roaring deep ; or in the 

 midst of the noisy and busy crowd, I have tried to forget myself; 

 I could not — no, girl, I could not — like a demon my ruin and 

 misery have ever haunted my scathed mind : but the time is 

 come, I've looked for it, prayed for it, maddened for it, and it is 

 come at last ; and shall I pardon him ? If trouble and grief had 

 come upon him, if he too had writhed under the anguish of ruined 

 hopes, I could have pardoned him 1 but no ; while all has been 

 dark around my course, his pleasures have never ceased, his 

 prosperity never broken, his sun never dimmed ; and now, in the 

 full tide of his happiness, with new hopes, in the ripe volup- 

 tuousness of his desires, all hot and teeming of love and bridal 

 joys, his sun shining in the very turn of his bright path, now 

 will I be avenged." Scarcely audible, the voice of the female 

 muttered in husky tones, " and is it right to take the avenging 

 in our own hands ? what saith the book, ' vengeance is mine.' " 

 " Peace, woman ! prate not to me of God ; with years of gnawing 

 anguish have I purchased the sacrifice. To-morrow the furry 

 begins — Goat's-moor Furry — 'tis long since I flung the ball on 

 the merry evening of the furry, long since I trod, with a light 

 step and a lighter heart, on the brown heather of Goat's-moor; I 

 will be there once more ; you too will be there, but remember to 

 leave ere the sun sinks low, and be here exactly at the hour : to 

 be seen near the house might create suspicion, the Kethmen may 

 know you." " Know me !" (replied the woman, in a firm, melan- 

 choly tone), "know me! no, no — thou art not more changed 

 than I am ; grief has not come upon me without leaving its 

 marks; sorrow and anguish have not lain upon my heart so long 

 without telling the tale ; look at me ! am I then so like myself?" 

 " Listen, and interrupt me no more. Be not seen in the village ; 

 track him to the moor, and unobservedly slip the paper into his 

 hand ; if you should not succeed, I will draw him to the tent; 

 he will certainly be at the furry: I cannot be mistaken; I will 

 watch him with more fondness than did the mother that bore 

 him ; be here at the time, the tide will then be slipping off the 

 reef, and the boat moored in the vraun above. Now we part; 

 lememberi at eleven." 



