Ormond

surely, if for any creature living, Sir Ulick O'Shane's affection had shown itself disinterested and steady. When left a helpless infant, its mother dead, its father in India,

uring infancy. On no one occasion had Harry, violent and difficult to manage as he was to others, ever crossed Sir Ulick's will, or in any way incurred his displeasure. And now, suddenly, without any cause, except the aversion of a wife, whose aversions seldom troubled him in any great deg

necessity of his affairs, the consequences of his extravagance - had brought him to this: the first sacrifices had not been made without painful struggles; but by degrees his mind had hardened, and his warmth of heart had c

t for Marcus O'Shane's safety that she was anxious; and he thought she had betrayed a secret attachment, the commencement of an attachment he thought it, of which she was perhaps herself unconscious. Were such an attachment to be confirmed, it would disappoint Sir Ulick's schemes: therefore, with the cool decision of a practised schemer, he determined d

s Ormond; ill-educated, unpolished, with a violent temper, which had brought him early into life into the dreadful situation in which he now stands? And at the moment whe

her grow very pale at the sight of his bloody apparition at the window of the ball-room. Bodily weakness, for she was not at this time in strong health, must be her apology, if she need any, for the faintness and loss of presence of mind, which Sir Ulick construed into proofs of tender anxiety for the personal fate of this young man. In the scene that followed, horror of his crime, pity for the agony of his remorse, was what she felt - what she strongly expressed to her mother, the moment she reached her apartment that night: nor did her mother, who knew her thoroughly, ever for an instant suspect that in her emotion, there was a mixture of any sentiments but those which she expressed. Both mother and daughter were extremely sh

emotions arose. He had no time to reflect on Sir Ulick's conduct. He felt hurried on r

then begin to hope that, with time and care, he would do well. With this opinion, guarded and dubious as it was, Ormond was delighted - his heart felt relieved of part of the heavy load by which it had been oppressed, and the surgeon was well feed from the purse which Sir Ulick had put into Ormond's hands. Ormond's next business was to send a gossoon with a letter to his friend the King of the Black Islands, to tell him all that had passed, and to request an asylum in his dominions. By the time he had finished and despatched his letter, it was eight o'clock in the morning; and he was afraid that before he could receive an answer, it might be too late in the day to carry a wounded man as far as the Black Islands: he therefore accepted the hospitable offer of the village school-mistress, to give him and his patient a lodging for that night. There was indeed no one in the place who would not have done as much for Master Harry. All were in

the facts: cringing and flattery easily won his favour; and, on the other hand, he resented any spirit of independence, or even the least contradiction, from an inferior. These defects in his temper appeared more and more in him every year. As he ceased to be a boy, and was called upon to act as a man, the consequences of his actions became of greater importance; but in acquiring more power, he did not acquire more reason, or greater command over himself. He was now provoked with Ormond for being so anxious about Moriarty Carroll, because he disliked the Carrolls, and especially Moriarty, for some slight cause not worth recording. He went to Ormond, and argued the matter with him, but in vain. Marcus resented this sturdiness, and they parted, displeased with each other. Though Marcus expressed in words much regret at his companion's adhering to the resolution of quitting his father's ho

an he really was, suffered proportionably this night; and so did Ormond, who, never before having been with any person delirious from fever, was excessively alarmed. What he endured cannot be described: it was, howeve

gave thanks to Heaven, prayed for Moriarty's perfect recovery, and vowed with the strongest adjurations that if he might be spared for this offence, if he might be saved fr

prised to see standing beside him Lady Annaly - she had made a sign to the s

e not to intrude upon your privacy. Be not ashamed, young gentleman," continued she, "that I

that one of whom I stood so much in awe - one whom I thought so much too good, ever to besto

nnaly: "this poor man's looks at this mome

- for as to prosecuting, that would never be any way, if I died twenty times over. I sint off that word to my mudthier and shister, with my curse if they'd do other- and only that they were at the fair, and did not get the word, or the news of my little accident, they'd have been here long ago; and t

city and generosity in this tragi-comic statement of the c

p, but Mr. Harry lets

have a farthing I can ca

that his name? - regains his strength, to which he seems well inclined, you do n

e. And did ye hear, my lady, how he is going to lave Castle Hermitage? Well, of all

the surgeon before his eyes, and having got over his first awe of the lady, he was becoming too full of

idle curiosity, but to a wish to be of service, i

perhaps, the army - he was too old for the navy - he was at present going, he belie

ed, but we are going there when we leave Castle Hermitage. I shall hope to see you at Annaly, whe

n be so very good, so condescending, to one who so little deserves it? But I will de

in you, which, on your own account, Mr. Ormond, have interested me in your fate. But fate is an unmeaning commonplace - worse than commonplace - word: it is a word that leads us to imagine that we are fated or doomed

and the truth and value of which he at once appreciates. For the first time in his life he heard good sense from the voice of benevolen

nt to let Lady Annaly know that breakfast was ready. Repeating her good wishes to Ormond she ba

I will make myself worth something more: I will begin from this moment, I am resolved, to improv

mmencement of our hero's reformation and improvement - hero, we say; but certainly never man had more faults than Ormond had to correct, or to be corrected, before he could come up to the received idea of any description of hero. Most heroes are born perfect - so at least their biographers, or rather their panegyrists, would have us believe. Our hero is far from this happy lot; the readers of his s

life of Ormond, deems it a point of honour to extenuate nothing; but to trace, with an impartial han