And that you will come alone?"

"I will."

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Then for the present, farewell! and may God shield you from all sorrow!"

"May he shield you, Cynric, from all harm; farewell!" and so saying, the lovers kissed each other, and Lucy entered the house, while Cynric stood gazing eagerly and anxiously at her chamber window, till he saw by her shadow passing between it, and the light of her candle, that she had safely reached her apartment. He murmured a short prayer for her happiness, and then bent his steps towards a lofty ridge of hills, that skirted the horizon from east to west, lying on the face of the green earth, like a huge land leviathan.

The situation of Cynric Owen was unfortunate in every respect; and the shadow of a dark and evil destiny seemed to have shrouded him even from his cradle. Born of a widowed mother, who had offended her kindred by marrying a profligate young man, he came into the world, unwelcomed by those glad festivities which commonly ushered in the birth of his kindred. On the contrary, he was received by his broken-hearted and discarded mother with tears and with wailings for what comfort had she in the birth of such a babe? and five years afterwards, when the hand of death was upon her, the bitterness of her last hour was poignantly sharpened by the conviction that her infant son was to be thrown upon the cold charity of unkind kindred. But there was one amongst her numerous stock of uncles, aunts, and cousins, who was possessed of that infirmity—a kind and compassionate heart; and while he soothed the agony of her dying hour, he still farther comforted the poor widow by promising to protect her child. This was Pryce Morgan, who took home the boy, a mischievous urchin of five years old.

Pryce Morgan was himself a widower, with one child, and that a daughter. He loved his wife so dearly, that her death, while yet in the full fragrance of youth and loveliness, rendered him morose. irritable, and unhappy. Thus constituted, he was, of all persons, the most unfit to rear so wayward and unbending a spirit as Cynric Owen's. It required infinitely more skill and patience than the squire possessed, to bring into proper subjection and control the fierce will of his young kinsman; and from the moment of his domestication at Garthmeilan, his impulses were left to take their own course, not uncontrolled entirely, it is true, but controlled in such a manner as to render their possessor only more vehement, wild, and impatient of correction.

As Cynric approached towards manhood his disposition assumed a more determined character, and a more decided tone. Impetuous as the mountain torrent, and swift in resolution as its flashing waters, his purposes were executed without a single reflection as to their expediency or consequences. "Uncle!" he would say to his guardian, "I am going to Chester fair to-morrow. I know that the snow is deep in the valleys, and that the road is pathless and peri

lous; but I have promised Lucy a fairing, my word is pledged to it, and I must go.' And before he was sixteen years old has he ventured forth from the middle of Merionethshire, on horseback to Chester, in the depth of winter, and in such weather, as the boldest shepherd dared not encounter. It was useless, and worse than useless, to remonstrate with him, and so his kinsman never attempted it, and he was permitted to do as he pleased, unchided, and often unquestioned.

One being, one gentle being, there was at Garthmeilan, who could assuage the fierce passion of Cynric Owen, sometimes even in its hottest moments. Need I add that Lucy Morgan was that gentle being? With a beauty more winning than commanding, more confiding than imposing, and with a disposition so sweet and gentle, yet resolute enough upon occasion, Lucy presented a direct contrast to her cousin. Yet was she of all persons, best calculated to manage him; and often, when his soul was shaken by the ungovernable mastery of his stormy feelings, she had soothed him even to tears: but even she could not always succeed in allaying the fury of his passion, which burst forth like a mountain-flood, crushing, and overwhelming, and scattering abroad every obstacle opposed to its vehemence.

These natural evils were in some degree neutralized by acquirements of a character well suited to his rank, but capable of misuse and misdirection. Those manly accomplishments which become the mountaineer, and which constitute so considerable a portion of his pastime, were, by Cynric Owen exercised only among persons of low condition at the fairs and wakes about the country. With such associates, it is true, he reigned paramount and while their adulation flattered his vanity, their servile submission accorded well with that love of mastery, which so materially governed his conduct.

It was at one of these meetings at a fair in Duffryn, a secluded mountain district beyond Barmouth, the "unfortunate affair," alluded to by Lucy, took place. During a wrestling match between Cynric's party, and some mountaineers from Caernarvonshire, a dispute arose as to the fairness of one of the throws. Words grew high, as they always do when Welshmen quarrel, and each party became more strenuous to maintain its point. From words the transition was easy enough to blows, and before the fray ended, one of the Caernarvonshire men was knocked on the head and killed. It was said that the blow was given by Cynric; at all events, he, as the leader, and most important person of the party, was fixed upon as the offender, and a warrant had been issued for his apprehension. Since this event he had not been at Garthmeilan since the night we have mentioned; and Mr. Morgan and Lucy were much alarmed at his absence, as they had been fully apprized of the transaction. They concluded, however, that he was concealed somewhere up the mountains; but they had in vain endeavoured to discover his retreat, as none of his usual associates knew anything about it.

Faithful to her promise, and full of agitation, Lucy, at the ap pointed hour, sought Lowry Pugh's cottage. Lowry was one of those aged pensioners, who are to be found attached to the demense of every Welsh squire: her best days had been spent in the service of the family; and her old age was now petted and protected by its members, in return for the fidelity of her attachment. The old woman, now more than " three-score years and ten," was very comfortable, and all that she wanted, she said, was to see her dear Miss Lucy happily married. Lately Lucy had spent a good deal of time at old Lowry's cottage; for she had made the old woman a confidant respecting that which, by the way, every one about the house sufficiently knew, namely, her love for Cynric; and she delighted to talk of him, especially now that his fate was so uncertain and overshadowed. It was, therefore, no cause of alarm to Lowry to see Lucy enter her humble dwelling after sunset; although her agitation on the present occasion did not long escape her notice. "Dear child," said the old woman, you are not well: tell me, what is the matter?" "I have seen him, Lowry," murmured poor Lucy; "and he will be here to-night."

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Here!" echoed the old woman, "here! Then he is safe! But when did you see him?"

Lucy told the old woman the adventure of the night before; and she had scarcely concluded, before the door of the cottage was darkened by a shadow, and the next moment Cynric sprang into the apartment.

"It was very kind of you, dear, to keep your promise with me," said he, as he pressed her to his heart. It is not every one that would have been so mindful of me in my trouble."

It is not every one that loves you as I do, Cynric. But tell me, for heaven's sake tell me, where have you been since you left us?" Hiding among the hills, love, and often, Lucy, nearer you than you supposed."

"But how have you subsisted ?"

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I am not without friends, Lucy: and they feed me.”

I fear, Cynric, that those friends, as you call them, would lead you into deeper guilt. These arms," glancing with a shudder at the pistols in Cynric's belt, "are for the purposes of further outrage; and with your hot blood and daring spirit are doubly dangerous.' Guilt! said you, Lucy-guilt !" I am not guilty. Foolish I have been, hot and headstrong I have been; but, by heavens, I am not guilty!"

Speak those words again, Cynric-say them again!" hurriedly exclaimed Lucy, as her eyes beamed with transitory delight. "Oh! how I have sorrowed and suffered, Cynric, when I thought that your hand was stained with the blood of a murdered man; and that the doom of a murderer was hanging over you. Why-oh! why did you not tell us this before ?"

(To be continued.)

Domestic Intelligence.